Here for a good time not a long one (lvl 20+) (She/her)(Bi/Ace) What you can find here: Destiny 2, Jedi:Fallen Order, Zelda, Hollow Knight, Assassin’s Creed, Fire Emblem, FFXIV,FFVII, anything else that makes me go: OOOOH!! Have a good day!
I’m sharing this so I can refer to this when I get those anxiety attacks… Today was one of those days I could have used this. I’m def saving it now for next time.
The Pitt is baby's first fandom for so many people. Wdym I should hate Langdon, because he was stealing pills and treating patients high? I was 9 years old watching Dr House pop 3 stolen Vicodin with a half bottle of Whiskey and then treating the Black Plague. Who am I to judge?
I really like the idea of Eridians dealing with major emotional trauma by going into hybernation while a team of trauma specialist take care of them / take turns watching over them and maybe even vibrating next to them with healing frequencies 😭🙏 and it doesn't like solve the issue 10000% or anything but when they come out of hybernation it's a lot easier for them to deal with process and heal from whatever happened. It's like they skip the RAW fresh part of the healing process 😮💨😮💨😮💨
They low-key see Simon and they're like damnnn he should probably hibernate for a couple years at LEAST right oh- humans don't do that? Why not stupid humans???
frodo getting criticized for decades for not doing much / not being a hero compared to sam is fitting when you consider mental health and strength is often trivialized. frodo carried the most dangerous and insidious item in middle earth for YEARS. ancient beings (elves, gandalf, etc) were taunted and tempted by it. boromir was corrupted within weeks without even touching it. men and hobbits turned against their brethren for it. killed for it. and frodo, with a wound from a morgul knife, bore it’s weight when no one else could. had it been anyone else, middle earth would have fallen.
no, he couldn’t have done it without his samwise. but isn’t that a lesson in itself?
could you do a ryland x reader where they’re arguing and then make up ? sorrryyy i love angst and the idea of feeling sad and being comforted afterwards 🙂↕️🙂↕️
lol no need to apologize!! i hope you like this! i know that the source of the argument might be a little silly, but once the idea popped into my brain i was like. oh he would so do something like this
and i hope it's okay that this is a tad on the shorter side, at least relative to the one shots i've been posting recently lol! it was just a really nice change of pace for me to write something a little more compact
dropping the ball (ryland grace x reader)
also posted on ao3 | my masterlist
You come home from work after a long, exhausting day. There's a hamster in your kitchen. What the fuck, Ryland?
~2.5k words; fluff and hurt/comfort; established relationship; domestic life (which comes with arguments!); Ryland makes. some questionable financial decisions; gender-neutral reader
By the time that you drop your keys in front of the door to your apartment, you’re about ready to kill someone.
Work was grueling and annoying, your feet hurt, the bus had been twenty minutes late, you slept horrendously the night before, and now this. The keys stare up at you from where they landed on the concrete step. Taunting you. When you stoop down to pick them up, your bag goes sliding off of your arm. Oh, man, you were supposed to cook dinner tonight, too, you realize, as you simultaneously consider just collapsing right there on the steps and letting the birds feed on your bones.
The keys and bag are retrieved after you stare at them for a while, Kubrick-style. The doorknob sticks a little when you turn it, but finally you’re inside, walking up the stairs to your second-floor apartment—because of course! Who doesn’t also want to walk up a flight of stairs the second they get home—and mentally running through all of Ryland’s favorite places to order dinner from in order to maximize your chances of not having to cook.
You kick your shoes off, and then—there’s a really weird sound, like some kind of chittering or squeaking, and for a split second you think there must be an appliance that’s broken, or something, which would really just be the cherry on top of this monumental disaster of a day, and then you look up.
Ryland is standing by the table in your shared kitchen, still in his button-up shirt and lanyard, like he’d only just come home minutes before you did. He grins widely and gestures toward a large, plastic container on the table. “Ta-da! We have a hamster now. Well, I have a hamster, really. It’s for my classroom. He’s just here temporarily.”
You just stare at him. And stare. And stare. Finally, you drop your bag, and it hits the floor with an unceremonious thud. Something spills out of it. Whatever. “You bought. A hamster.”
“Yeah! I saw this ad that the pet store was doing a sale, and it really got me thinking—I mean, what better way for my students to get firsthand experience with animal biology? And it gives me some pretty serious cool points.” The hamster squeaks next to him, like it’s contributing to the conversation. “Exactly. He gets it. So I biked back here, and then I took an Uber to the pet store, and here we are. I’m still working on a name, maybe I should have my students vote—”
“Ryland.”
“What’s up?”
Deep breaths. “When did you see this ad?”
He’s still smiling, but it’s started to gain a panicked edge, like he’s realizing in real time that this, perhaps, was not the brilliant idea he thought it was a few seconds ago, and that you are not nearly as ecstatic as he is about this. “I might have. Seen it this morning.”
You close your eyes. “Yeah. I probably should have guessed that.” This is. Really not what you need right now. You rub your face before finally looking at him again. “How much did it cost?”
“…Not a lot? It was—the sale was.” He is starting to lose steam the longer you stare at him. “It said if you bought the cage and food and stuff, the hamster was free.” Ryland looks down at the cage, then, and picks up a little plastic sphere that must have been sitting behind it. “He came with his own ball?” He offers, as if this makes it all better.
What if you just screamed? Like, really loudly? No words, or anything, just a shriek. Maybe that would make you feel better. “And this wasn’t a thing that, I don’t know, we could have talked about beforehand? Or you could have at least shot me a message, like, ‘hey, I’m about to buy a small, living creature and bring it into our home,’ or something?”
The plastic ball is set down, gently, next to the cage. The hamster scurries over and looks at it curiously. “Okay, yes, I hear you, 100%. But the sale was ending today, and I didn’t want to bother you while you were at work. Also, like I said, he’s going in my classroom, so he’s really just here for the night.”
“Right. And where will he be over the weekend? Or during holidays?”
Ryland looks at you for a moment and then down at the hamster, clicking his tongue. “I. Didn’t think about that.”
You’re getting the distinct sense that, as per usual, not a lot of meaningful consideration was put into this at all. “And what if he needs to go to the vet? We’re supposed to be saving up for our wedding, not buying a fucking hamster.”
His eyes widen a little. “Woah, okay, so I know this might not have been my most well thought-out idea, but—”
“No, it really isn’t,” you interrupt him, flatly. “Neither was the telescope, considering that it’s collecting dust in our closet, because you can’t even use the thing in the city. Or the water purifier that didn’t fit our faucet. Or how about the grill utensil set that you bought last week, when we don’t even have a grill and you hate cooking?”
There are a thousand other things that you could probably list, but you feel like you’ve already proved your point, so you stop and look at him with exasperation. He shifts uncomfortably. The hamster seems unfazed by the tension building in the room. “Well. Alright. But I bought all of those things with my money.”
You can feel your throat start to clench, because you’re about five milliseconds away from completely losing it, and when you get frustrated, you start to cry, which is incredibly annoying and makes you cry even more. “That’s. Do you understand,” you say slowly, “why that was not the right thing to say right after I mentioned the wedding that we’re attempting to plan?”
He refuses to back down, because he hates losing. When you’re playing games at a bar or competing in trivia, it’s cute, but right now it is infuriating. “But I returned the purifier,” he points out. “And the grill set can be used for normal cooking.”
“Oh, my God, that is not the fucking point!” The five milliseconds have passed, and you can feel the tears welling up in your eyes. “I’m not doing this right now. I’ve just had the worst day ever, and now there’s a goddamn hamster in our kitchen. I’m taking a shower.”
“Hey—” He tries to cross the room, but you turn on your heel and walk into the bathroom, slamming the door behind you and locking it, which you never do, because sometimes he’ll come in and shower with you.
Right. Your bag is still in the hallway. You don’t even have your phone to play music. Ugh. You turn the shower on and strip, staring at the ring on your hand for a few moments before taking that off, too, because the water is absolutely scalding already, and you don’t want the metal to warp, and sometimes the prongs catch in your hair if you leave it on.
You go through the motions of washing up, and then you just—stand there, for a while, thinking, as the steam rises and fogs up the mirror. Well. There’s a hamster in your apartment now, apparently, and you feel pretty justified about being frustrated at that fact, but…you probably shouldn’t have yelled, especially because it was less about the hamster and more about the fact that your day had been terrible, and it wasn’t fair to take it out on him.
It’s just. He really couldn’t have at least texted you about it first?
You watch as a strand of hair slides across the shower floor and into the drain. The money really wasn’t an issue, if you were being honest. The wedding wasn’t happening for a while, because you were both determined to pay for it yourselves, which meant it would probably take years of saving. And he had returned the water purifier, because getting the wrong size had been an honest mistake. The telescope and the grill set—yeah, okay, those were a little harder for you to justify.
An indeterminate amount of time passes, without any music playing to help you gage how long you’ve been in there, until finally you sigh and shut the water off, stepping out to towel yourself off. You do feel a little bit better; there was something about having clean hair, or maybe the hot water had helped relax your aching feet a little. It meant that you were starting to feel a little worse about the yelling. Not about being mad about the hamster, though.
There’s a knock on the door. “I have your robe.”
“…Thanks.” You unlock the door, and then it opens a crack, and his hand sticks in to hand the fluffy fabric to you. You’re about to say something, the beginnings of an apology and an explanation, but Ryland closes the door softly and pads away.
Oh. Now you’re really feeling bad about the yelling.
You wrap yourself up in the robe and wipe the mirror off. Okay. You are going to go out there, and calmly explain, without crying, that you really had a truly horrendous day, but also that the hamster thing is still kind of crazy.
When you open the door, you’re immediately hit with the smell of your favorite takeout noodles. Aw. You cautiously walk into the living room, and the boxes are already set up on the table, and he’s poured you a glass of wine and lit some candles.
He’s standing in the middle of the room, looking a little nervous, like he doesn’t really know what to do with himself. You take a deep breath and start fiddling anxiously with the tie of your robe. “I’m sorry—”
“No, nope, absolutely not,” Ryland interrupts. “That’s not—you don’t have to be sorry, because you were right. I spent the last hour,” jeez, were you really in the bathroom that long, “imagining how you must have felt after having a crap day and then coming home to a very small rodent in the kitchen, and—not good, is the answer I arrived at.” He walks forward to you, then, smoothing his hands over your upper arms. “So. I am sorry. About the hamster. And the grill set. And the telescope. And—”
“Ryland.” You’re still a little peeved about the hamster. But you also love him, a lot, and it’s not like you’re perfect, either. “It’s okay. I’m sorry that I yelled. I mean—I am a bit mad about the hamster. But. I exploded a little bit, and it wasn’t even really about the rodent.” He quirks an eyebrow at that. “Well. Maybe a little. But the other stuff really wasn’t fair, because the telescope was from a long time ago, and you did return the water purifier. The grill set—I still don’t really know why you did that.”
He smiles, just a little, and it feels like a knot in your chest is starting to slowly uncoil. “I don’t know why I did that either. I think—I had this idea in my head, of trying to start cooking, so I could cook for you.” Your heart melts a bit at that, even though buying a grill set without a grill is a little like putting the cart in front of the horse, except you don’t have a horse and the cart is also, like, falling apart. You’re tired, okay? Analogies aren’t coming very easily to you at the moment. “But I really hate cooking. Like, so much.”
“Yeah.” You’re the corners of your mouth start to turn up. “And you’re pretty bad at it.”
“Hey now. I can make a mean quesadilla. As long as there’s only cheese in it.” Ryland pulls you into a hug, then, pressing a kiss to the top of your forehead. “And I shouldn’t have said the money thing. That was not cool.”
You hum, relaxing into his body. “I didn’t—I don’t want you to think that was me saying you can’t, like, buy things if you want them and can afford them.”
“I know,” he mumbles into your hair. “I know that. But I’m not just a ‘me’ anymore. There’s a ‘we’ now.” The grammar of the sentence kind of doesn’t make sense, but it’s still exactly the right thing for him to say, so you nod. Then he draws back, tenderly grasping your shoulders. “Okay. Now sit. Your noodles are getting cold.”
He guides you to the couch and hands you the takeout box before sitting beside you. Then, to top it all off, he pats your knee, brings both of your legs on top of his, and starts massaging your feet. It’s—it’s difficult for you to describe the feeling this gives you, because you know he’s not doing it because he doesn’t want you to be mad; Ryland is, quite simply, doing it because he knows that your feet hurt, and he doesn’t like it when you’re in pain, because he loves you.
At one point, he reaches forward for the remote, his other hand still kneading your aching muscles, and throws on an episode of your favorite show, lowering his glasses to hang off of his face so he can watch. He laughs when you start quoting it, because you’ve seen it a million times, and even he says one of the lines at the same time as the character, because he’s seen it right along with you for about half of that million.
There’s the sound of plastic scuffling against the floor, then, and a very slight thud against the couch. You peer down to see the hamster in his little ball, leaning up with two tiny arms against the inside of the plastic sphere and sniffing at your noodles. Oh, no. He’s really, really cute.
“Oh. Yeah. I thought—I wanted him to have a little freedom before I took him back to the store,” Ryland says apologetically.
God damn it. Well; you did offhandedly say to him a few months ago that a pet would be nice someday. It’s just—you were kind of thinking a cat, or something. You sigh. “Maybe we can. Let’s—okay. How about this: we do some research on hamsters, and then we can talk about it. Deal?”
“Deal.” He’s quiet for a beat, and then: “I kind of. Already did the research earlier. During my prep period.”
You look up from the hamster. You cannot help the smile that is already growing on your face. “Alright. Lay it on me.”
(The hamster is not returned to the store. It goes to his classroom, and each weekend, a different student of his takes it home and sends pictures. The hamster is, surprisingly, incredibly chill with all of this. You both take him for longer breaks. He would be a really cute ringbearer, you find yourself thinking during one of those times, watching him excitedly roll around the living room.)
