#shelf ship

[shocktreatment]

emotional support tv

[shocktreatment]

started watching mlp again. i need these guys in wedding gowns walking down the aisle with me stat

[fayandfangs]

twelve miles and nowhere

The road to mystic falls

a fay nima x enzo st. john fic

She left Lynchburg with a backpack, a broken suitcase, and a very firm policy about people. Enzo was driving back from the best mood he'd been in in years.

Pairing: enzo st. john x fay nima (self ship)

Setting: post season 6x14

The suitcase had a broken wheel.

Fay had noticed it around mile three. She had not stopped. Stopping would have required acknowledging that this plan had a flaw in it, and she was not prepared to do that yet. Maybe mile five. Maybe Mystic Falls. Maybe she would simply drag it all the way there and let it die on arrival and that would be that.

She kept walking.

The skirt was long and dark blue and it was her favorite one, which was the only reason she'd packed it, and it was not ideal for this, but very few things about today were ideal and she had made her peace with that approximately never. Her backpack sat high on her shoulders. Her edges were starting to do something in the humidity that she refused to think about. The suitcase dragged behind her on three working wheels and one loud, grinding, deeply personal complaint about the situation.

Mystic Falls was another twelve miles.

She knew nobody in Mystic Falls.

Good. That was the whole point.

Enzo was driving with the easy, loose energy of a man who had just gotten exactly what he wanted, which for once, he actually had.

Sarah Salvatore had chosen him. Freely. He'd needed it to be free had constructed the whole thing so that it would be and it had worked, and now the road was open and he had nowhere urgent to be and he was allowing himself, in the privacy of an empty highway, to feel good about it.

He almost missed her entirely.

She was on the right shoulder backpack, long skirt, a rolling suitcase with some kind of catastrophic wheel situation that he could actually hear from inside the car. Just walking, steadily and with some force.

He passed her.

Drove another quarter mile.

The sound of the suitcase wheel was still somehow in his head.

He slowed down. He wasn't entirely sure why. She was just an interesting picture young woman, full backpack, modest blouse, long skirt sweeping around her ankles, broken suitcase, middle of nowhere, totally alone. It was strange enough that he wanted to know the shape of it.

He reversed.

Fay heard the car before she processed what it was doing.

She heard it pass her, which was normal. Then she heard it slow down, which was less normal. Then she heard it actually reverse back toward her, which was the kind of thing that made her hand drift automatically toward the front pocket of her backpack, where the pepper spray was.

She didn't look at it.

Policy.

The car rolled up beside her and matched her pace and the window was already down and she stared straight ahead and kept walking.

"Rough day?" said a voice. British. Easy. The particular tone of someone who found everything faintly entertaining, including, apparently, her.

Fay said nothing.

"The suitcase," the voice offered, helpfully. "It's making a sound.

"I know what my suitcase is doing."

"Just checking."

She kept walking. He kept rolling. The car was moving at approximately the speed of someone who had fully committed to being annoying and was settling in for the long haul.

"Where are you headed?" he asked.

"Not your business."

"Fair. Are you all right?"

"Absolutely fine."

"You're walking on the side of a highway."

"People walk."

"Not usually like this."

She looked at him then, just to make sure he received the full effect of her expression, which communicated very clearly that she had assessed him and found nothing worth her time. He was watching her from the driver's seat with his arm resting on the door and an expression that was almost a smile. Sharp face. Dark hair.

She looked back at the road. "I'm fine," she said. "You can go."

"I'm in no rush."

"Good for you."

"I could give you a lift..."

"No." She scoffed

"You didn't let me finish."

"You were going to offer me a ride," she said. "I'm saying no to the ride. You can finish the sentence if you want but the answer will still be no."

A pause. "You're quite sure about that."

"I'm quite sure about that."

He just continued rolling along beside her at three miles an hour like this was a completely normal thing to be doing, and she kept walking, and the suitcase kept making its noise, and the situation was what it was.

"It's twelve miles," he said, after a while.

"I know how far it is."

"To Mystic Falls."

She didn't say anything to that, because she hadn't told him where she was going, and he'd said it like he already knew, and she filed that away somewhere in the back of her mind under strange and worth remembering and kept her face even.

"I'm not getting in your car," she said.

"You mentioned that."

"I'm mentioning it again."

"Noted." He didn't sound deterred. He sounded, if anything, like he was enjoying himself, which was its own specific kind of irritating the kind that got under the skin not because it was aggressive but because it wasn't, because he was just there, easy and unbothered, like her refusal was a perfectly interesting response that he had no particular problem with.

She walked another hundred yards. He drove another hundred yards. The suitcase wheel screamed.

"You know," he said conversationally, "I'm not actually going to do anything. I'm just going the same direction."

"I don't know you."

"Enzo," he said.

"I didn't ask.

"Now you don't have to."

Fay's jaw tightened. She was aware of the pepper spray in the front pocket. She was aware of exactly how many seconds it would take her to get to it. She was doing a quiet, private calculation about whether this man was actually a threat or just genuinely the most persistently annoying person she had encountered in recent memory, and the answer was leaning toward the second one, which was almost worse, because you couldn't pepper spray an annoyance. Well. You could. But you'd have to justify it later.

"Please," she said, and she said it with a very specific flatness that was not a please in any traditional sense, "go away."

"In a bit."

"Now." Fay demanded

"You know, most people would just take the ride..."

"I am not most people and I would like you to take your car and your accent and whatever this is." she gestured vaguely at him without looking, "and go literally anywhere else."

"The accent," he repeated, like he was genuinely curious what she had against it.

"It's doing a lot of work and I don't appreciate it."

He laughed at that. and she hated that it didn't sound mean, it just sounded like she'd said something that landed, and she didn't want to land anything with this man, she wanted him to leave, she wanted very badly to not be having this interaction on the side of a road in the middle of nowhere Virginia with a broken suitcase and sweaty edges and twelve miles still to go...

His phone rang.

The sound that came out of that phone was she didn't have an immediate word for it. High-pitched. Urgent. Whoever was on the other end had something to say and was saying it at volume, and Enzo's whole energy shifted in an instant, that easy amusement snapping into something more alert, and he said "yes, I'm yes, I heard you " and then he was accelerating, just like that, the car pulling forward and past her and down the road, and within about fifteen seconds he was gone.

Fay stood there.

The road was empty. The suitcase was quiet for once, because she'd stopped moving.

She looked up at the sky.

"Thank you," she said, out loud, to no one, or possibly to God, or possibly to whatever patron saint covered men who have the decency to leave when their phones ring. "Thank you. Genuinely. From the bottom of my heart. Thank you."

She stood there one more moment.

Then she picked up the suitcase, adjusted her backpack, and kept walking.

Twelve miles.

Fine.

Mystic Falls had a hotel.

Nima knew this because she was standing in front of it, reading the rate on the small placard by the door, and then she was walking back out of it, because the rate on the small placard by the door was not something she could do anything with. The woman at the desk had watched her read it and had not said anything, which Nima appreciated. There was nothing to say. The number was the number.

She had eleven dollars.

She walked the main street once, slowly, the suitcase dragging behind her on its three working wheels and its one ongoing complaint. There was a grill. There was a pharmacy. There was a hardware store that was closed. There was a church. There was a board inside the grill with local listings that had a flyer for a missing cat and an advertisement for something happening in September and nothing else. She stood in front of it for a moment and then walked back out.

She found a bench in a small park off the main street and sat down on it and took out her phone.

Twenty nine percent.

She looked up motels. There was one, four miles out on Route 7. She looked at the rate. She looked at her eleven dollars. She looked at the rate again.

She put her phone away.

The light was going. Not gone yet but going, that particular gold and low quality that meant dark was maybe an hour out, which meant she had an hour to figure out where she was sleeping, which was fine. She had been in worse situations than a park bench at dusk with eleven dollars in a town she didn't know. She had a list. It was a long list. This did not crack the top ten.

She was very tired.

Not scared. Just tired. The kind of tired that had been building since somewhere around mile seven and had settled into her shoulders and her feet and the backs of her eyes and was not going anywhere.

She sat with it and looked at the trees and did not make it into anything larger than it was.

That was when she heard someone cutting through the park.

He almost walked past her.

She could see the moment he registered her a slight adjustment in his stride, the particular hesitation of someone deciding whether to say something. She kept her face even and waited for him to decide no and keep walking.

He stopped.

He was around her age. Maybe a year younger. Dark hair, tired eyes, He looked at her and then at the suitcase and she could see him doing the math she hadn't asked him to do and didn't particularly want him doing.

She waited.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey," she said.

He didn't leave. Fay had given him the flat, even look that usually communicated clearly that she didn't need anything from anyone standing in front of her, and he'd received it and stayed anyway, which was either obliviousness or something else. Fay hadn't decided yet.

"You just get here?" he asked.

"Why do you ask."

"You've got a look."

"What look." Fay remarked sarcastically

He thought about it genuinely, which she hadn't expected. "Like you're deciding if this was a good idea," he said.

Fay looked at him. That was accurate enough that she didn't respond to it, which was its own kind of response and she knew it.

"I'm fine," she said.

"Okay," he said, in the tone of someone who believed her and also didn't, which was a difficult combination to pull off and he managed it without appearing to try.

He sat down on the other end of the bench. Not close. She looked at the space between them and then at him and he was already looking at the trees, not at her, like he'd simply decided this was where he was sitting and it had nothing to do with her, which she did not entirely believe but could not immediately disprove.

They sat there.

He didn't say anything. She didn't say anything. The park was quiet except for the suitcase, which made a small noise when she shifted her weight, which she ignored.

A minute passed. Maybe two.

"Is there a motel in this town," she said finally. Not a question exactly.

"Route 7," he said. "Four miles out."

"I know about that one."

He was quiet for a moment. "It's not cheap," he said carefully.

"I know that too."

Another pause. Fay was aware of him thinking, not in a way that felt calculating, just genuinely working through something. She let it happen. She was too tired to stop it.

"There's a place," he said. "Where I'm staying. It's my sister's, technically, and some other people live there too, it's it's a lot to explain. But there's space. If you needed somewhere."

"I don't know you," Fay said.

"No," he said.

"I've been sitting on this bench for twenty minutes. You've been here for four of them."

"Yeah," he said. Just that.

Fay looked at him. He wasn't doing anything with his face wasn't trying to look trustworthy, wasn't leaning forward, wasn't performing sincerity at her. He'd said the thing and now he was just sitting there, looking at the trees, like the offer was on the table and she could do whatever she wanted with it and he genuinely had no attachment to which way it went.

She looked at the suitcase.

She looked at her phone. Twenty nine percent. She thought about four miles and the motel rate and how her feet felt and the dark that was now very seriously coming and the eleven dollars that were not getting any more than eleven dollars no matter how many times she counted them.

"I'm not going to be agreeable about it," she said.

"About what."

"If I said yes. Which I haven't. I'm saying I wouldn't be I don't do that. I don't make myself easy to have around because someone did me a favor."

"Okay," he said.

"I mean that." Fay stated sharply

"I know," he said. "I believe you."

She looked at him one more time. He looked back at her the same way he'd been looking at her the whole time steady, not pushing, not waiting for anything in particular.

"What's your name," she said.

"Jeremy."

She nodded.

"Nima," she said.

He nodded once. Didn't comment on it, didn't repeat it back to her, didn't make anything out of it. Just took it and sat with it like it was enough, which it was, because it was all she was giving him.

She stood up.

She picked up her backpack and put it on and adjusted the straps and looked at the suitcase wheel which made a noise in response to being looked at, which was new.

Jeremy stood up and reached for the handle without asking and she opened her mouth and then closed it and made a silent, private exception on the grounds that the wheel situation had become genuinely structural and this was not the moment for principle.

They walked out of the park.

One night.

She was not making any promises beyond one night.

The town moved past them, small and old and lit up in the way small towns lit up at night warm windows, quiet streets, the distant sound of the grill still going. She looked at it and thought about the British man on the highway, the way he'd said Mystic Falls like he already knew, and she thought about Jeremy saying it's complicated about the people where he was staying, and she thought about the fact that she had walked twelve miles to a town she'd seen on a sign once and knew nothing about and was now following a stranger through it at night.

Well, she thought, in the dry flat part of her brain that observed her own life like it was mildly interesting television, that's one way to do it.

She kept walking.

[postwarlevi]

Happy Valentine’s Day 💝

Selfship ask: Is Valentine’s Day important for you & Jean? What are your plans for today? 

Hello Val!! How are you my friend? And how was your day yesterday? Thank you for indulging me hehe

We both had the day off and I had planned to get up early to make breakfast but Jean beat me to it and had blueberry pancakes just about finished when I woke up! We ate out on the porch and took our time then got dressed and took our pup Murphy for a walk in the park. It was nice just holding hands and letting Murphy sniff every blade of grass and talk about what we wanted to do today.

When we got back to the house we dressed Murphy in a red bow tie and took some cute pictures of him and then the three of us for social media. We like to do cutesy things like that.

Jean saw there were classic romantic movies playing in the theaters and we went and saw Sabrina with Audrey Hepburn and Humphrey Bogart. I'm a huge old movie fan and I turned him into a fan of Bogie so it worked out. There were only a few other people there and we picked a spot away from anyone and shared a popcorn and box of candy and maybe a kiss or two hehe.

Since he was spoiling me I made lunch when we got home and told him to relax a bit. Instead he took Murphy out and I watched them play from the back window while I turned on some old songs. While eating lunch I asked what else he'd like to do. He likes the outdoors more than me and we went to go try rock climbing. I was a little nervous although it was very safe. He cheered me on so loud and I took forever to get to the top but was excited I didn't fall off. Jean of course made it took so easy. We took a couple pictures where I looked exhausted and he did not LOL.

We went back home to shower and change and he surprised me with a nice dinner out. We dressed up and just enjoyed our dinner together. The staff was attentive but very good at not coming over too often so we didn't feel rushed. Jean had flowers delivered to our table before dessert and we had at array of small yummy treats.

At home we fed Murphy and went for another evening walk and I let Jean pick what we watched. Our evening ended in pajamas watching Die Hard hahaha I don't mind it and he loves it.

This man loves a good cuddle and made sure I had a good day and I thought it was completely perfect 🥰.

[frozentundra]

Zeus, Ares, Hermes, Athena for Pieck? :0 !!!

thank you!!! :>

Zeus: How did you first meet your f/o(s)? How did you feel about each other at first?

We meet when i was visiting (kidnapped) to her home and i was very like ">:V" but she was like "he's kinda cute 😏"

Ares: Are you ever protective of your f/o(s)? Are they ever protective of you?

Oh very much so we both want each other to be safe

Hermes: Was it love at first sight? Slow burn with lots of pining? How fast did your relationship progress?

slow burn with a little bit of enemies to lovers

Athena: Are your f/o(s) interested in any particular hobby or interest of yours? Have you taught them about it, or let them watch you, or anything similar?

YES!!! i love rambling to her

[axy-maxy]

whoaaa you ship with karma? can you do the shipping thing with you and him? all of the questions!! have a good day kitty! nice to meet you!

Yess I love Karma soooo much Assassination Classroom was one of the first anime’s that I watched! I have almost all of the manga and everything! Nice to meet you too!

falls asleep on the couch

Me! Karma always takes pictures to use as blackmail then carries me to bed (or leaves me there he knows I get grumpy when I’m woken up)

makes friends with the neighbors

Eh between me and him probably me Karma would try to prank them and I would have to stop him before they hate us.

is the adventurous eater

Definitely Karma! This boi will try anything once! But I like trying things too!

hogs the covers at night

Karma does it more then me! He reallyyyyyy likes to cuddle up we end up having to get like 4 blankets for the bed

forgets to do the dishes

Neither really were both good at doing it!

tries to surprise their partner more often

Me! I love to surprise Karma with random doodles and sketches of my art!

leaves dirty laundry on the floor

Also me Karmas kinda of a clean freak!

stays up til 2 AM reading

Both! Karmas the reader and I’m the drawer! I love staying up and drawing while he read out loud!

sings in the shower

Me! Karma videos it and uses it to embarrass me! But I don’t mind!

takes the selfies

Ehhh could go both ways! Karma would just randomly takes pics of me and I would want to take the selfies!

plans date night

Same here neither really were teens! We don’t really plan anything I don’t have work he doesn’t have an assassination thing to do? Random date night!

Thank you so muchhh friend I hope to see more of you!!

[psychnerd47]

This week is going to be “fun”

Tomorrow is the first step of the extensive dental work I need to get done to try to correct the placement of my bottom teeth, this is the third attempt in trying to keep them in place. And to start the process I have to have my permanent lingual retainer removed from my bottom teeth (it’s going to hurt 😢) and then have my teeth all rescanned since the computer screwed the models up last time, and be fitted for my temporary retainer. On Wednesday I have to go to my psychiatrist (I don’t really like my current psychiatrist but she’s the only one my insurance will cover at the moment), and try to get her to understand that I feel too medicated. Like I’m not majorly depressed any more but like I don’t feel great either. To be honest I’m having a lot trouble feeling and processing emotions at the moment. I feel like I have reached Freud’s state of everyday misery. But unfortunately unlike the psychiatrist that was dropped by my insurance, my current psychiatrist never wants to change meds. So we’ll se how this goes. But at least my f/o’s have my back so it could be worse, I guess