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bioodorange · 4 years

Note

so. i have been thinking. i know you said you wanted drabble ideas, but this is just a thought i had. how would the creeps react to seeing their s/o after a long time away? like, what do they do while they can't see their s/o? when they can see them in-person again, how is it? like, it's been months since they've seen each other and now they get to be together again?! :) (quarantine loneliness has low-key been getting to me lately tbh 😔) - dove anon 🕊️

Please excuse my shitty layout i have no idea how to use tumblr on a computer (thanks ava for letting me use your laptop at work) Also Im gonna include your favorites because you're my favorite.

Toby

So Toby is a very clingy person(?)

He craves attention, validation and emotional security

This mans would be a mess without his s/o around

You guys would be apart a lot considering you’d either be a proxy OR a human

You’d be used to him being gone alot because of missions but if it was for more then a week he’d have a hard time

During the time you were gone he’d call you A LOT

And on face time, not just calling or texting

He’d excitedly seggust you stay up all night

Three nights in a row

He would send you his hoodie in the mail or leave it in your room if it was quarentine or something

Would tell you everything about his day and send pictures of the smallest things that reminded him of you

He’d need a lot of support and love on your end

When he finally sees you again no matter your size you’re getting tackled in a hug

Lots of face kisses and nuzzling his face in your chest

He wants to play with your hair, look into your eyes, everything he couldn’t do before

Good luck getting away, this dude plans on keeping you in his lap for as long as he can

Tons of cuddling and him filling you in on absoulutely everything

When he’s done talking he’ll sit there and wait patiently while you tell him all about your life

Will be 100% you changed something about yourself even if you look the exact same

Masky

Tim is a grr im too cool for this shit kinda guy

But will melt upon seeing his s/o for the first time in a while

For this I kinda imagine maybe you’d have something outta town?

He would scroll through his phone all the time

Read old texts, look at old photos, hell he’d scroll to the end of your social media timeline

Constantly look at something when you posted

If you had a favorite food or something your favorite show- it’d be weird to him without you though

This dude would get so upset each day he woke up without you

Would call you just to hear your voicemail

Whenever you do have time to talk to him lots of asking if everythings ok

“I’ll come down there if I have to, it’s not a problem”

Just wants to make sure you’re okay as you can be

When you do come back he feels a bit awkward not sure how to express his emotions

Will offer lots of activities to do

Hiking, watching a movie, whatever you’d like

He’d hang around a lot more then he usually does

Wouldn’t be as clingy (physically) as Toby but would keep his arm around you

If he’s in the right mood might even make you breakfast or something

If you’re away for a REALLY long time he’d take picture of pretty views and make them into little postcards to send you

Babes doesn’t know how to express himself

Ben

As possesive as this little shit is

Thinks ‘Oh yeah I won’t miss em THAT much’

But thats because he can reach you like anywhere there’s a screen

Once he learns theres no devices allowed (where ever you are I dunno)

Automatically everything changes he’s like “Wait- wait what”

And suddenly he feels emotions

Tries his best to convince you not to go or to tag along

“Fit me in your suitcase I’m t i n y!”

Will definetely get discouraged when you keep telling him now

This petty bitch would consider the silent treatment

Only consider because you’d be leaving you soon

When you leave he tries to tough it for the first few days

But not having you around REALLY gets to him

Would bug everyone else for attention and shit

When they eventually get tired of his shit he starts plotting

Lets say you were like doing one of those long cross country trips

Where you stay in hostels and shit

This dude would have like a 35 step plan just to show up in your room

and be like “I told you so!” “...Ben how are you gonna get back home?”

“...Fuck-”

Would sulk around at the fact he was kinda dumb

Inbetween laughs you’d comfort him

Spend time with him as much as you could before he had to go back

From there he’d wait around his phone until you had internet to talk

As soon as you get back he hangs around you

When you’re watching TV hes there

Even if you can’t see him

Will NEVER admit how much he missed you

But you both know

Jeff

So out of all these salty crackers this mother fucker is the saltiest

like so much damn salt the ocean is jealous

sorry I just like bullying Jeff

Anyway! He’d try and get you stay with really shitty tactics

Like he’d take your toothbrush or some shit

“Aw dam what a shame you cant go anymore, why don’t we go watch some TV”

Dumb potinless arguing like “Why do you h a v e to go, you’re not gonna die. What if I die while you’re gone? How would you feel then hUH!?”

Will sit there sulking as you get ready to go cause he wants to see you leave

As soon as you leave he’s calling and checking in to make sure you’re ok

Would send you texts every morning for you to wake up too

Would scroll through your social media and accidently do the thing where you like a 5 year old photo

Panic

Quickly unlikes it and tosses the phone in the corner

begone demon!

He’d look through stuff on your desk or maybe a sketch book you left behind

Read old books you like

Just chill in your room all day cause he misses you

Has the day you’re coming back marked on a calendar

When you come back he‘s like “Yeah you’re never leaving again”

Picks you up and takes you to his bed or something

Yeah you guys are sitting there and cuddling until someone dies

#jeff the killer #jeff the killer x reader #Jeff the killer headcaons #Masky #maksy headcanons #tim wright #masky x reader #ben drowned #ben drowned x reader #ticci toby #ticci toby x reader

303 notes · View notes

purple-fireflies · 3 years

Text

try to slip past his defense (without granting innocence)

A/N: Soy Luna Grey’s Anatomy au -- some plot devices will be the same, others may differ. (This is just an excerpt, I'll post the full chapter on ao3 & tumblr when I'm done with it!)

Other notes:

The title is from The Fray’s “How To Save A Life” which is basically the show’s anthem song (that and chasing cars)

Sometimes, certain dialogue may be verbatim from the show (this is only for medical-related plot devices, ie meeting patients, assigning lab reports, establishing exposition, etc) so I’m stating here right now that that specific dialogue belongs to Grey’s Anatomy, and the characters belong to Soy Luna, but everything else belongs to me

Juliana never had the last name given in the show, so for story’s sake, it’s Bahiense.

She’s referred to as “The Nazi” but that’s not meant to offend anyone at all, it was the nickname given in the show, so I’m transferring it here.

In Soy Luna, Ámbar is one year older than Luna, but here she’s the same age as her

In Grey’s Anatomy, there are only 5 people in each group of interns, but for plot’s sake, there are 7 each

In the show, Benicio’s name was never mentioned, so for writing purposes, his last name is going to be Calisto

Luna sits up quickly—bad idea.

She winces at the light coming in through the window and groans at her headache.

And someone stirs next to her.

Exactly how much did she drink?

Enough so she doesn’t remember the name of the smirky boy staring at her, pulling on his boxers.

She is never drinking again.

And he needs to leave.

“You are?” He asks, grinning the grin that probably got Luna into this mess.

“Humiliated on so many levels,” She mutters, “And I’m late, as well. So if you could just, I dunno, leave, that would be perfect,”

“Or we could pick up where we left off?” He asks, with a grin that tells Luna he isn’t used to being rejected.

“No, seriously. I’m late. Which I shouldn’t be on my first day of work, so?”

Take the hint.

“Wait, so you live here?”

Jesus Christ, she’s going to be late.

“Huh? Oh yeah, it was my aunt’s house, but I’m selling it so technically, not for long.” She rushes out.

“I’m sorry,” He replies, actual emotion in his eyes.

“My aunt is still ali—you know, we don’t have to do the thing,”

“We can do whatever you want,”

Really?

“No, the thing. Where you pretend you care or ask me nice questions or whatever. Listen. I’m going to go upstairs and shower, and when I get back, you’re not going to be here, uh…”

What was his name?

He laughs softly, “Matteo.”

“Luna,” She replies, shaking his hand.

“Bye, Luna,” He says winking at her.

She smiles in response and jerks her head towards the door.

“Bye, Matteo,”

And that’s the last she has to see of him.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

“Each of you comes here hopeful. Wanting in on the game. A month ago you were in med school being taught by doctors. Today, you are the doctors. The seven years you spend here as a surgical resident will be the best and worst of your life. You will be pushed to the breaking point. Look around you. Say hello to your competition. Eight of you will switch to an easier specialty. Five of you will crack under the pressure. Two of you will be asked to leave. This is your starting line. This is your arena. How well you play? That's up to you,” The chief, Tamara Rios, says as Luna stumbles into the room, causing everyone to stare at her.

Great job, Valente.

Luna walks around the room. She sees Ámbar, avoiding her gaze as if it was poisonous. She sees another girl, a brunette, looking around the room with wide eyes. She sees Simón, looking back at her, and resists waving at him as a kindergartner would. She walks around the OR a little more and sees two girls so close they might as well be stuck together, one a blonde and the other a redhead. She bumps into another boy, who just huffs softly and brushes her off.

Rude.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

The resident takes 3 more interns, leaving Luna with the brunette she saw at the orientation.

“Only 6 women out of 20,” She says, sighing, as if mad at the statistic itself.

“And I think one of them’s a model. As if that would’ve helped with the whole respect thing,” The redhead interjects.

Luna and Ámbar share a look.

Luna turns to the brunette.

“You’re Nina, right?” She says, smiling.

Nina nods, “Which resident did you get assigned to? I got Bahiense.”

“The Nazi? Me too,” Luna replies.

The guy who bumped into her says, “You got the Nazi? So did I. At least we’ll be tortured together,” He says, trying to lean into Luna’s space.

Luna and Nina exchange a quick look saying, God, can you believe him?

A doctor comes up and calls out “Smith, Valente, Ponce, Simonetti, Medina, Sánchez, Álvarez,”

Ámbar walks up to the guy and asks, “Bahiense?”

He points down the hall.

The seven look down to see who he’s pointing at. It’s a woman slightly shorter than them, using a cane to stand up, ordering some other resident around.

The guy who bumped into her says, “I thought the Nazi would be a guy,”

Sexist much?

“I thought the Nazi would be...you know, the Nazi,” Luna mutters.

“Guys seriously? Maybe it’s just professional jealousy. You know, maybe she’s just brilliant and they’re so jealous so they call her the Nazi. Maybe she’s nice.” The redhead says, and Luna sees her nametag saying Jimena Medina.

The blonde next to her, Yamila Sánchez, Luna supposes, nods.

Which means the only one left that she doesn’t know would be...Luna cranes her neck to see his nametag.

Ramiro Ponce. Who is currently staring wistfully at Yamila.

Please.

“Let me guess, you still have hope left in your heart,” Ámbar says to Jimena, rolling her eyes as if it’s what she was born to do.

Jimena shoots Ámbar a dirty look (wow, Luna wishes her luck with that can of worms) and proceeds to try to shake Dr. Bahiense’s hand when she walks over.

Dr. Bahiense looks at her hand as if it’s infectious.

Jimena, undeterred, continues to say, “Right, well. I’m Jimena Medina, but you can call me Jim if it’s easier,”

Yamila, who seemed to jump out of thin air, says, “And you can call me Yam,”

Bahiense looks so unimpressed Luna thinks that if contempt alone was enough to murder someone, Bahiense would be a serial killer.

Luna shares a quick look with Simón, who gives her a reassuring nod.

Bahiense looks them all up and down, evidently annoyed with being stuck with their group (ouch).

"I have five rules. Memorize them. Rule number one, don't bother sucking up, I already hate you, that's not gonna change,” She starts, then moves to a bench, filled with different objects, “Trauma protocol, phone lists, pagers. Nurses will page you, you answer every page at a run. A run, that's rule number two. Your first shift starts now and lasts forty-eight hours,”

Everyone rushes to grab their pagers, studying them before Bahiense starts talking again.

“You’re interns, grunts, nobodies, bottom of the surgical food chain, you run labs, write orders, work every second night till you drop, and don't complain!”

Bahiense opens what Luna supposes is an on-call room, “On-call rooms. Attendings hog them, sleep when you can, where you can, which brings me to rule number three, if I'm sleeping, don't wake me, unless your patient is actually dying. Rule number four, the dying patient better not be dead when I get there, not only would you have killed someone, you would have also woken me for no good reason, we clear?”

Luna rushes to nod, writing furiously on her notepad, and then goes, oh.

She raises her hand.

Dr. Bahiense looks extremely pissed at Luna for having the audacity to have a question.

“Yes?”

“You said five rules. Those were only four.” Luna says, trying not to wilt against Dr. Bahiense’s gaze.

“Rule number five. When I move, you move,” She says after her pager beeps.

That’s some TV show shit right there.

They break into a run and watch as Dr. Bahiense runs down a couple of doctors.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

The helicopter—yes, a helicopter—lands, and a doctor pulls out a teenager on a stretcher.

This is way too much for Luna on her first day.

“What do we got?” Bahiense asks, and Luna hears Nina correct the grammar under her breath.

As the paramedic puts the girl on the stretcher (while she’s seizing) he says, “Katie Bryce, fifteen-year-old female, new-onset seizures, intermittent for the past week, ID lost en route, started grand mal seizing as we descended,”

Bahiense stops, leaning on her cane for a second, and then it’s all business.

“All right. Yam, put her on the side, 10 milligrams diazepam,” Bahiense groans when Yam does it incorrectly, “No, no, the white lead is on the right, righty whitey, smoke over fire, a large-bore I.V. don't let the blood haemolyse, let's go!”

Yam injects the diazepam and Katie stops seizing.

Luna releases the breath that she wasn’t aware she was holding.

Another doctor, in dark blue scrubs, another doctor comes up in stark contrast to what she and the other interns are wearing. Luna catches his name very quickly. Gastón Perida.

Nina sucks in a breath as he walks past them, Luna realizes with a start.

“So I heard we got a wet fish on dry land?” Dr. Perida says, and Luna catches how Nina stares at him with intent.

Dr. Bahiense, her sudden brashness gone, replaced with respect as she says, “Absolutely Dr. Perida,”

Dr. Perida nods, his eyes brushing over the intern group, stopping at Nina, and he then continues.

“All right, Dr. Bahiense, I’m gonna shotgun her,”

“That means every test in the book, CT, CBC, chem. seven, a tox screen, Nina and Ámbar, you're on labs, Ramiro and Yam, patient workups, Luna, get Katie for a CT, she's your responsibility now,”

Wonderful. Her first day and she gets the really hard patient.

“What about me and Simón?” Jim asks.

Bahiense looks so tired when she stares at Jim, “Right, you two, uh. You get to do rectal exams. Okay?”

Jim and Simón have faces that say no, not okay.

Luna makes a face gloating at Simón and he just glares at her in return.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

Ámbar peeks into the OR where Dr. Bahiense is. Bahiense comes out and looks at her expectantly.

“Um, Katie Bryce's labs came out clear, there's nothing in the results that explain her seizures,” She says, hoping to catch Dr. Bahiense to ask her what she really wants to ask her.

“And…?”

“ I heard every year the attending on-call picks the best intern and, and lets them perform a procedure, during the first shift?” Ámbar asks, glaring back at Dr. Bahiense when she tries to stare her down.

Ámbar Smith does not get stared down.

“Go away. Now.” Dr. Bahiense says, and Ámbar groans internally.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

Yam sighs at yet another ill-tried joke Ramiro attempts.

Flirty in med school and flirty now.

Why should she even bother?

“We have one more patient to work up,” She mumbles and he nods, walking slower to keep up with her pace.

She places her stethoscope and hears for a heartbeat. “Everything seems to be in order,”

“So he’ll be fine?” The woman next to him—presumably his wife—asks.

“If you don’t count that my bacon days are over, sure,” The patient replies.

Yam shares a smirk with Ramiro.

“You'll have surgery tomorrow with Dr. Perida, I hear he's good, and after that, you can have all of the bacon-flavored soy product you can eat,” Ramiro interjects, speaking easily with the patients.

“Please, kill me now,” the patient jokes.

“Wish I could, but I took the Hippocratic Oath for a reason,” Yam replies absently, going over and signing his charts.

She blushes at the weird looks she gets and rolls her eyes at Ramiro’s never-ending smirk.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

Katie. Won’t. Stop. Talking. Which isn’t helping Luna find her way through these halls.

Did she just miss the last turn?

“You’re lost,” the kid says, grumbling.

What do you think I’m trying to fix right now? Luna thinks to herself and just about stops herself from saying.

“I’m not lost.” Luna insists, then remembers she’s a doctor, “How’re you feeling?”

“I’m missing my pageant. How do you think I feel?”

“Right. You’re missing your pageant.”

This poor girl is in the hospital with seizures and the only thing that she can think about is her pageant.

Luna feels sorry for her.

“The Spokane Teen Miss? I was in the top ten after the first two rounds. This is my year. I could've won,”

Luna absently hums and realizes that they’re going the wrong way. Again.

She turns around and pushes Katie back the same way.

“You are so lost. What are you, new?”

Luna chokes back a laugh. Yeah, something like that.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

Yam watches Ramiro try to give their patient a central line. It’s not working.

And it’s visibly hurting the patient.

She groans and pushes past him, about to put the line in when Dr. Perida waltzes into their room and raises his eyebrows.

“Out.” He says, his nice demeanor replaced with annoyance.

Do all of the residents and attendings just hate interns on principle?

Yam glares at Ramiro and pulls him out, watching from the window as Perida puts the line in perfectly.

“Bet you used to mess up a lot when you started out,” Ramiro tries to joke with Perida.

Yam just winces and nods at Dr. Perida as she leaves.

Ramiro at least has the decency to look sheepish.

This is going to be a long shift.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

Luna sits, taking Katie’s patient history and generally listening to her incessant babbling.

“I twisted my ankle. I do rhythmic gymnastics, which is like, really cool. Nobody else does it. And I tripped over my ribbon, and I didn't get stuck with someone this clueless. And that was like, a nurse,” Katie says.

Luna bites back a retort.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

Simón groans at the plate of food in front of him. The number of rectal exams he and Jim had to do was enough to take the appetite away from anyone.

“This shift is 80 hours long, you have to eat, Simón,” Ámbar mutters, her gaze hardening after leaving Simón’s eyes.

“I can’t.”

“Eat.” Ámbar insists, pushing Simón’s plate towards him.

“You try eating after performing 17 rectal exams. The Nazi hates me. I want to puke.” Simón says, his face contorting.

“Just don’t puke near me,” Ámbar mutters.

“The Nazi’s just a resident. Attendings hate me,” Ramiro replies.

“Did you know Luna is inbred?” Nina asks, and all heads whip to her immediately.

Partly because no one expected the shy ingenue to say anything.

And partly because Luna being inbred is very surprising.

Simón hurries to say “It’s not uncommon to be the kid of a doctor,”

“I mean royally inbred. Her mother is Lili Benson.”

“Shut up. The Lili Benson?” Jim asks.

Nina nods.

“Who’s Lili Benson?” Ramiro asks.

“The Benson method? Where’d you go to med school, Antarctica?” Yam says incredulously.

No one notices how Simón and Ámbar tense up as Yam continues talking. “She was one of the biggest women surgeons. She practically invented th—”

“She won the Harper Avery. Twice.” Jim says, rolling her eyes at Ramiro.

“So I didn’t know one thing.”

“I would kill to have Lili Benson as my mother. Scratch that, I’d kill to be Lili Benson.” Nina says, her eyes alight.

“Katie Bryce is a pain in the ass. I swear if it wouldn’t get me fired, I’d strangle her with my bare hands.” Luna says, walking over to their table, sitting next to Nina.

She seems to miss the wistful glance Simón throws her way.

She does seem to notice the way everyone’s staring at her.

“What?”

Nina opens her mouth to say something but stops immediately when Dr. Perida walks over.

“Good afternoon interns. It's posted, but I thought I'd share the good news personally. As you know, the honor of performing the first surgery is reserved for the intern that shows the most promise. As I'm running the OR today, I get to make that choice,” Dr. Perida says, and Luna feels a rush of hope.

Or. Felt. Seeing as Dr. Perida is clapping Ramiro on his back (it was kind of worth it to see him choke a little on his salad) and saying, “Ramiro Ponce. You’ll be scrubbing in on an appendectomy this afternoon. Congrats.”

Luna deflates.

She wanted that surgery.

She wanted it really badly.

“Me?” Ramiro asks, not quite believing it. Or maybe he’s just wilting under Yam’s intense glare.

“Enjoy.” Dr. Perida says, nodding to everyone.

Luna doesn’t fail to notice that he’s staring at Nina while he says that.

Nina doesn’t fail to notice either, if the blush on her cheeks has anything to say about it.

Ramiro looks like he’s still in shock.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

“I’ve seen his file. Ramiro Ponce barely even made the cut to get into the program. He’s not your guy.” Juliana says to Gastón, raising her eyebrows.

“Oh, he’s my guy alright,” Gastón responds, absently checking the labs.

Juliana sighs, “Every year you pick your guy, and every year your guy suffers most.”

Gastón smiles. Everyone who knows him knows his easy nature, his inclination to being on the side of less serious.

Unless of course, it has to do with work.

“Terrorize one, and the rest fall in line, Bahiense.”

“I get it. I respect it. But Ramiro? Ponce is a puppy. A cute little puppy that is waiting to be killed. He can’t take the pressure. Think about it, Perida.” Juliana says, walking away.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

Luna watches as Katie’s parents stumble into Katie’s room.

The look of pure worry and fear on their faces makes Luna warm to them immediately.

A couple of hours ago, their kid was supposed to go on stage and wear a sash and be a kid.

Now they’re scared that their kid could be dying.

“Katie?” The mom asks, trying to hold her hand.

Luna falters, not wanting to break their little window.

“They gave her a sedative for the CT scan, so she’s just a tad groggy,” Luna says, standing up.

“Will she be okay?”

“Does she need surgery?” The parents ask at the same time.

Their urging faces make Luna wish she had an answer.

“Uh. You know, I’m not her doctor, I am a doctor, just not hers. Anyway, I’m not Katie’s doctor. I’ll go find him.” Luna rambles.

Luna finds Bahiense, “Katie’s parents have questions. Should I get Dr. Perida to answer them?”

“What? No. Perida’s off the case. The case is the new neuro attending’s case, Dr. Balsano. He’s over there.” Bahiense says, pointing to…

Oh god.

Please.

Not today.

This is not happening.

Matteo turns and stops dead in his tracks, his eyes clicking in recognition.

This is not happening.

Luna is not dealing with this.

She turns away from his gaze and walks away. What is she going to do?

She walks towards the stairwell and gets grabbed in.

She stumbles and Matteo catches her, running a hand through his hair, which Luna grudgingly admits looks not bad.

No. Luna. Stop it. Luna. No.

“Dr. Balsano. Did you need anything?” Luna asks, trying to not look at flustered as she is.

Matteo looks positively ecstatic at this turn of events. “Dr. Balsano? This morning it was Matteo. Now it’s Dr. Balsano.”

Luna dearly wants to slap that smirk off of his face.

“Dr. Balsano, we should pretend this never happened,”

“What never happened? You sleeping with me last night or kicking me out this morning because I don’t know about you, but both are memories I’d dearly love to keep.”

This guy really can’t take a hint.

“No. No. No. This is not happening. There are no memories of anything. I’m not the girl in the bar and you’re not the guy in the bar. I am your intern, Dr. Balsano.”

“I see how it is. You took advantage of me last night and now you want to forget about it.” He says, smirking incessantly.

“I most certainly did not,”

“I was drunk and vulnerable. Not to mention, insanely good-looking,”

“You’re not that good-looking,” Luna says, while her traitorous brain says Liar over and over.

“Sure I’m not. But last night, I was wearing my red shirt and I was extremely good-looking and you took advantage,”

He’s not entirely wrong about the red shirt.

“I didn—”

“Want to take advantage again? Say, Friday night?”

He’s smiling again, only this time it’s a smile, not a smirk.

Maybe Luna wouldn’t have said no if he wasn’t an attending.

“No. You’re an attending. I’m your intern. And I would seriously appreciate it if you stopped looking at me like that,” Luna says, glaring at him. It doesn’t seem to deter him.

“Like what?” He asks innocently as if he has no idea what he’s doing right now.

“Like you’ve slept with me,”

Matteo smirks.

“Dr. Balsano. Have you ever considered the fact that this is inappropriate?” Luna breathes.

He doesn’t say anything.

Luna sighs and leaves, the door slamming behind her.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

“Open. Identify. Irrigate. Close.” Jim instructs, and Yam sighs.

“Jim, I think he’d know,”

“He looks like he’s going to puke,” Jim shoots back.

Yam looks at Ramiro and says, “We have to go to the gallery now. Don’t screw it up.”

They walk up and take a seat behind Luna and Nina.

The intern above them says, “He’s going to faint. He’s a fainter.”

Yam fights back a if you only knew.

“Nah, I’m guessing code brown. Right in his pants,” another intern snickers.

Yam and Jim share a look.

Sure, she’s not a huge fan of Ramiro but he helped her a lot in med school. He helped Jim a lot in med school.

This is just savage.

“He’s going to sweat himself unsterile,”

“10 bucks he’s messing up the McBird,” someone says.

Oh god, they’re betting on Ramiro.

“20 says he cries,” Ámbar says, and sends an apologetic look at Luna.

“I’ll put 20 on him melting down completely,”

“50 says he pulls the whole thing off.” Yam hears herself say.

Luna grins at her, “That’s one of us down there. The first one of us. Where the hell is your loyalty?”

Yam breathes out.

The entire gallery, while it was buzzing before, is now silent.

“75 he can’t even ID the appendix,” Ámbar says again.

This time it’s Simón shooting her the look.

“I’ll take that action,” someone says.

Eric, Yam realizes.

The idiot from their bio class.

Nina elbows Luna when Dr. Perida says, “Okay, Ponce, let’s see what you can do,”

Jim breathes in quickly and Yam also holds her breath.

Do it right do it right please do it right.

“Here it comes,” Simón says.

“Scalpel,” Ramiro says and the nurse hands it to him, echoing the word.

Ramiro takes it and everyone cheers.

Perida motions for them to shut up as Nina says, “God, he’s quite a bit of trouble,”

Ramiro gets ready to cut as Perida instructs, “More pressure.”

Ramiro manages to do it without any mishaps and then proceeds to say, “Pickups.”

The scrub nurse echoes the command and hands him the instrument.

They go on for a little bit, and Yam thinks he might actually pull it off.

Until it goes downhill after Ramiro takes out the appendix.

Perida mutters an angry remark as all the interns in the gallery call him Double O’7.

Jim shares a worried look with Yam and asks Luna, “What does 007 mean?”

Luna sends them an apologetic look.

“License to Kill.”

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

The cool air rushes into the basement that Bahiense’s interns have settled into.

The majority of them pile onto the gurney as Nina goes to the vending machine looking for some chocolate.

Luna winces at the whine that Ramiro makes as he walks into their “hideout”.

“They’re calling me 007 aren’t they?”

Luna groans and shoves Simón’s head off of Ámbar’s lap so she can fall asleep in it.

She’s too tired to deal with any human interaction that requires her to, you know, have any sort of emotional security.

“No one’s calling you 007,” Jim and Yam lie (but they do it in unison so like, props).

Ramiro shoots Yam an annoyed look, “I was on an elevator and Eric whispered 007,”

Ámbar pushes Luna’s head off of her lap and glares at Ramiro, “How many times do we have to go through with this? 5, 10, 15? Please tell me soon or I’m going to rim your head off.”

Ramiro sits on the gurney and groans “Eric whispered 007 in the elevator and everyone laughed,”

Luna picks her head up from where she’s trying (unsuccessfully) to fall asleep and actually feels sorry for the guy for a second but the aching limbs and pounding migraine make it kind of hard to console the poor guy.

“They weren’t laughing at you,” Jim says.

“You sure?”

“Would we lie to you?” Jim asks.

“Yes,” Ramiro, Ámbar, Simon and Luna say.

“007 is a state of mind,” Nina yells from the vending machine and throws a packet of chips at Luna as she walks back.

“Says the girl who finished first at freaking Stanford,” Simón yells at her.

Nina just rolls her eyes in response.

Just as Luna finally feels the call of sleep, her pager beeps.

She just wanted 5 minutes.

“It’s 911. Damn. I gotta go,” and Luna takes off at a sprint.

“I should’ve gone into geriatrics. No one cares if you kill an old person.” Ramiro continues after Luna leaves.

“Yes. Yes, they do care if you kill an old person. Plus. Surgery is hot. Geriatrics is… Well, it’s for freaks who live in the basement with their mom,” Simón replies.

“I have got to move out of my mom’s,” Ramiro mutters.

Nina and Ámbar share a grin.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

Luna’s out of breath by the time she gets to Katie’s room.

She really has to go to the gym more.

“Finally,” Katie mutters.

Luna looks around, seeing if anything’s wrong.

Oh god, please tell me she has a good reason for this. She has a good reason. Maybe. Hopefully.

“Are you alright?” The nurse paged me 911.”

“Ha, it took me forever to get her to even pick up the phone. I had to go full Hulk.”

“Wait. So there’s nothing wrong? Nothing medically wrong?”

“I’m bored.” Katie shrugs.

Luna likes to think she’s a nice person. A little absentminded at times, but a nice person nonetheless.

Katie, however, is really testing the whole “do no harm” thing.

“I am not your babysitter. I am not your cruise director. You can’t just page me for anything.”

“Don’t be so overdramatic. My pageant is supposed to be on cable, but it’s like this hospital lives in the ’90s. I can’t find anything. If someone who’s not me gets the crown, I should at least get to see it.”

Luna takes a deep breath. She’s a teenager. You were also stupid as a teenager.

“Okay. This is a hospital. There are sick people here. Go to sleep and stop wasting my time.”

“I can’t sleep, my head’s all full.”

“Those are called thoughts. Run with them.” Luna says in a fit of anger.

She’s been working for almost 24 hours and she just wanted 2 minutes of rest.

But maybe she shouldn’t have snapped at a patient.

But that’s a lesson for another day.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

Luna and Nina are in the ER when they hear a loud voice.

“4B has post-op pneumonia. Let’s get her started on antibiotics, okay?” An intern says to a nurse.

Someone didn’t tell the newbie not to piss off the nurses.

“Are you sure it’s the right diagnosis?”

“Oh gee, I don’t know. I’m only an intern. But here’s an idea. You go and spend 4 years in med school and then talk to me. She’s got shortness of breath and fever. It’s post-op pneumonia. Start antibiotics.” He sneers.

Luna rolls her eyes.

The same guy walks over to her and Nina, “God, I hate nurses. I’m Benicio. I’m with Jeremy. You guys are with the Nazi, right?”

“You know it doesn’t have to be pneumonia, right? It could be splinting. Or she could have aPE.”

He sneers again (does it ever leave his face?), “As I said, I hate nurses.” and walks away.

“Well, he’s an absolute idiot,” Nina says, shooting daggers towards Benicios across the room.

Luna’s about to respond, but her pager beeps again.

“Dammit, Katie.”

This time she walks.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮

#soy luna #soy luna fic #lutteo #soy luna grey's au #simbar #yamiro #gastina #hope you guys enjoy it!

18 notes · View notes

inevitably-johnlocked · 3 years

Note

Hi Steph!

I’m sorry it’s my first time sending you an ask, so I dunno which button I clicked man. Sorry about that.

Ok, so what I wanted to request! I love your blog. You’re really kind and genuine, and I’ve found some great fics to light up my day from here. But sometimes, the posts are suuupppeeerr long, and I may not be looking for this info exactly? Like it clogs up a lot of my dash. So I wanted to request if you could use a “read more” feature after a brief, at least for the fic rec posts.

I hope I didn’t offend or anything. Thank u for all the kindness you put into the world each day. Have a good day fren!

Hey Nonny!

Ahh, okay, you’re not going to like what I am going to say, but you are very respectful and were smart and sandwiched your issue in compliments, so Ahhhh, I feel conflicted now.

With all due respect Nonny, this is my blog and I get more engagement on my lists if people can see the full list; many people prefer it that way, and honestly I get crapped on either way, so I’ve made the executive decision to not cut my posts. The only time I do is on “second” reblog on super long LONG lists so that I have a “cut” and “uncut” version of the post, but even those I’ve been reducing.

I’ve tried both ways, and full posts get better notice. All I want to do is share my love of fics and content with y’all, and the best way to do that is to just have it all there so people know what they’re getting.

Plus, am I to just “readmore” every single reply on my posts? A lot of the reason my blog has stayed as long as it has is because I’ve always been a very interactive blog. People LIKE seeing their replies added to a comment thread on my post, and it helps smaller blogs get noticed. It’s not much on the surface, but I’ve had smaller blogs come to me DELIGHTED that their name is now attached to one of my posts that are going through a “popular reblog cycle” (that is, a post that is being interacted with for a good few days before I actually finally add it to the month-reblog queue). It helps create a sense of community, I feel, and that’s one of the things I am very honoured to be: a starting place for community.

And this is just in a general sense and NOT directed at you, more at the people who shit on me in the notes of my long posts, but I don’t GET people getting upset about my TEXT BASED POST WITH NO IMAGES IN IT, but not on any of the image or playlist posts I reblog, which take FOREVER to load on mobile. I GENUINELY don’t get it. I don’t even use the app on my phone, I’m logged into the browser on my phone, because the app is garbage.

The problem is the app, in my opinion. That’s the gist of it. It loads slow, it scrolls terribly, and the UI is annoying, but instead app users blame the bloggers and not the fact that Tumblr staff ignore every suggestion we make. And because more of the newer people use their mobiles these days, us old-time Tumblr users are expected to microblog like the shitty sites that are Twitter or Facebook. Tumblr is a blogging platform, like LiveJournal, laid out all nicely and clean and honestly, (the royal you) you’re getting exactly what you signed up for: long posts, opinions, and interaction. If one wants shitty layouts, shitty comment threads you can’t follow and reactionaries, go to Twitter. Call me a boomer, whatever, I just find Tumblr so much more appealing now more than ever.

Sorry, I’ve needed to get this off my chest for awhile now. I don’t know. Maybe I’m being pedantic. I don’t care, really. My thoughts on this: if (the royal) you don’t like the content, or find stuff annoying, don’t follow me.

Because you know what a lot of my longest posts are? Helpline numbers at the bottom of posts. Useful links. And just stuff that make people happy. People in despair are not going to click on a read more of a post. People who want links to resources aren’t going to click on a read more. People who just want happiness after a stressful day are literally just scrolling to smile, and they ain’t gonna click a read more.

YES, there are reasons read mores are good, absolutely. I just PERSONALLY don’t like them because I like engagement. I don’t get much of it anymore on my posts, EXCEPT the fic rec posts, and THOSE work better as a full view.

BUT NONNY PLEASE KNOW I AM NOT UPSET AT ALL WITH YOU, and you’ve given me a great opportunity to discuss this thing that I’ve put off for awhile because the other people were less-than-kind, and it only made me NOT address it out of simple spite because I’m nothing if not a passive aggressive old lady.

So, here are a few ideas you can implement:

If you like my posts but not the longest ones, I always tag them “long post”. Tumblr finally has its own tag blocking feature, so just block “long post”. All of my very long lists will be blocked, and you can decide if you want to click on them based on what the additional tags are. I try my best to tag all my lists appropriately.

Similarly, you can “tag block” my username, and only click on the posts you like the tags for.

DON’T TAKE THIS THE WRONG WAY, PLEASE, this isn’t a “so there!” comment, I promise!!: You can unfollow me if you’re only following me for the fic lists, and instead follow me on Twitter at @inevitablyjohn1, which is used only to promote my new lists and art. Every Wednesday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday I post up the Wednesday Reblog, Five Fics Friday, Fic Rec Roundup, and Fic Rec Sunday, with a link to each post :) Then you’ll get all the lovely full lists I post 4 times a week. OF COURSE, this is the option I don’t want to happen, because I love all my lovelies and you’ll miss out on the random fics, insightful asks, and suggestions I get throughout the week, BUT I want you to enjoy your time on Tumblr, and if my blog is causing you stress, it’s the last thing I want to happen. I love all of y’all too much to see that!

THAT ALL SAID, Nonny, I’m really sorry to disappoint you, and I hope you understand my POV on this. I just don’t see any benefit on my part, for MY blog, which I run for MY happiness which has the side effect of making other people happy. I also hope you will still stick around regardless, but I care about your well being and I understand if you have to leave.

AND everyone, please don’t be harsh on this Nonny! They asked a question respectfully and deserve our respect in kind.

I truly wish you the loveliest of days, Nonny, and have a great week! <3

#steph replies #my blog #blog things #tumblr things #ironically:#long post #Anonymous

57 notes · View notes

kayluh1915 · 3 years

Text

Ice Cream Cake

Pairing(s): Pedro Pascal/Female Reader

Words: 3,233

Warnings: None

Pedro (in collaboration with your mother) throws you a party for your birthday, but not for the reason you originally thought.

DISCLAIMER!

So, the beautiful Maggie ( @221bshrlocked ) was talking here on Tumblr about an age gap between reader and Pedro and I am HERE👏🏻FOR👏🏻 IT👏🏻 so expect more of this because she's got me hooked. Blame her... when she gets back from her break! I originally planned for this to be FILTHY, but no matter how many times I tried to work it in, it just didn't fit. So, have some fluff instead! Maybe next time, you filthy whores.

This works as a stand-alone, but I do consider it to be in the same universe as Beautiful People. It isn't necessary in the slightest to read that before this, but it is available if you would like to give it a read.

As always, comments are welcomed and encouraged.

You can also follow me on Twitter if you'd like. My life is boring, but I try.

Enjoy!

Read on AO3

My Masterlist

It’s a warm summer evening. The frogs are croaking, the fireflies are starting to come out, and the crickets are singing as the sun began to dip over the horizon of the mountain. The perfect kind of evening for bonfires, camping, or even some late swimming. All great ways to spend a gorgeous evening. Far better than being pressed up against the glass of the local community center… in your opinion at least. However, for the sweaty fangirls, the chance of even getting a glimpse of your boyfriend was by far the better option.

“Such heathens.” Your mamaw said, rolling her eyes at the crowd outside. “They should show some dignity.”

“You were young too, Mom. Cut’em a break.” You Mom replied, carrying a plate of homemade peanut butter rolls.

“Well, I’d like to think I’d have more respect than to stare and lust over a local's boyfriend on her birthday, famous or not. He ain’t even here yet for cryin’ out loud!” You reached for one of the treats while your Mom was occupied, quickly stuffing it in your mouth. It was just as delicious as always.

“You should call for more security. If they’re like this when the man ain’t even here, I’d hate to see em’ when he does. Someone’s gonna get hurt.” Your Mom thought for a moment, looking back to the crowd outside that had somehow doubled in just that short amount of time alone.

“Yeah, you’re probably right. I’ll get on the phone and let the- Honey, don’t eat all of your aunt Judy’s PB rolls!” Your Mom scolded you once she noticed your stuffed cheeks.

“I dunno what you’re talking about.” You replied, mouth still full.

“It’s the bee’s birthday, Annie. Leave er’lone.”

“Then you can explain to the guests why there’s no rolls left.” The door suddenly opened, the overwhelming chatter from outside piercing the otherwise calm atmosphere of the community center and startling the three of you. You worried for a split second that maybe one of the fangirls had gone rouge and got past the guards or that one of the guests arrived way too early, but it was just your best friend, Emily… thank God.

“Damn, you’d think there was a celebrity nearby or something.” She joked, pointing her thumb back towards the door.

“There isn’t.” Emily’s smirk morphed into pure confusion.

“Whaddya mean? I thought he was supposed to be here around four?”

“Last second table read. Set him back a few hours.” She nodded in understanding, stealing one of the peanut butter rolls from the plate your mom was still carrying. She was about to protest but decided to take the damn treats into the ballroom so they would quit getting swiped in the first place. Even then she had your brother to worry about.

“Well, come on. We gotta go get you all dolled up for your man.” You looked towards the crowd, the mere idea of walking past all of those people green with envy making you nervous. Security guards or not.

“W-we can’t escape out of the back, can we?”

“Nope, they’re lined up back there too. I tired.” You threw your head back with a groan.

“Fuck.”

“There’s security out there, honey. They’ll protect you.” You mamaw said.

“Yeah, c’mon. You don’t wanna start your party in a ratty t-shirt and some jeans, do you?”

Honestly, you didn’t care.

When Pedro asked you what you wanted to do for your 25th birthday, you answered with the what you normally did. Stay home, do nothing, treat yourself to an ice cream cake from Dairy Queen, and maybe have Emily come over.

“When’s the last time you’ve done something special for your birthday?” He’d asked.

‘It’s been years. I’m not the party type and I never have the money to do what I actually want. Even a DQ cake is a decent amount of cash for me.” He paused for a moment, obviously thinking.

“... What have you actually wanted to do?” You immediately knew what he was up to.

“Nope! Don’t even think about it! It’s way too much money. Seriously, a DQ cake at home with you is more than enough.” It wasn’t his idea of spoiling you on your birthday, but he agreed. If that’s really what you wanted, then he’d give it to you. Whether you knew it or not, he’d give you the world if he could.

When you and Pedro visited your mother one weekend, she had asked you the same question. Before you could get out the answer you had given Pedro, she'd already replied with her own.

“You know, you haven’t had a proper party in years. We should throw you one.” You tried again to intervene, but Pedro stepped in.

“I’ll help in any way I can. Mi Abeja deserves something special for her birthday.”

So much for your private DQ cake celebration.

You weren’t ungrateful or anything. In fact, you really didn’t mind it. A day of dancing and good food sounded great and you were thankful to have someone like Pedro that was able to give you that. However, seeing all these people stepping on each other just to get one glimpse of the man you love made you long for that DQ cake.

“Pedro’s tee and jeans are fine.” You answered, Emily clicking her tongue at you and grabbing ahold of your arm. She dragged you towards the door and waved to your Mamaw.

“Be back in about two hours.”

Thankfully, you made it to Emily’s car without a scratch, taking in a huge deep breath once you shut the passenger door.

You wanted to choke her.

____________________

Your hairstylist released the last lock of your hair from the curling wand with a whistle.

“Lookin’ good, cutie! Pedro’s gonna faint when he sees you.” She exclaimed, spinning you around so you could take a look at your freshly styled hair. You cupped the curls framing your face and shook it out a little. Not even you could deny how much you loved being dolled up even if it hadn’t been your idea.

“Thanks, Jo. I love it.”

“You’re welcome, baby.” You got up from the chair and walked over to your couch, picking up the gift box Pedro had given you last week. He’d told you to wear it to your party, but not to open it until then.

“Well, open it! Let’s see what he picked out for you.” Emily exclaimed, obviously more excited about it than you were. Even Jo was peeking over as she got her stuff together.

You pulled the ribbon until it fell slack, placing the box back down on your couch to take the lid off. After fishing through a sea of tissue paper, you finally saw it. A black knee-length dress decorated with beautiful roses and daisies and a pair of black heels that had their own blossom.

“Ooooo! How pretty!” Jo cooed, adorning the dress.

“Man, he has a good eye,” Emily added. “That’s beautiful.” You looked over at her with a crooked eyebrow.

“Did you think he couldn’t match colors or something?”

“No, I’m just saying that men usually suck at stuff like this, but he did great.”

After everything was done, you stepped in front of your full-body mirror to take a look at yourself. You hated to admit it, but you actually looked pretty good. Your hair was curled and framed your face nicely as the dress Pedro had got you hugged your body perfectly. You even liked the heels which was a shock. You hated heels, but he had managed to find a pair that weren’t that tall so your feet wouldn’t hurt. It was a very sweet gesture, but you'd still be taking them off before the night was over.

“Shit!” Emily cursed. “Yeah you’re beautiful bitch, we gotta go. You’re going to be late for your own party!” You got back in her car as fast as possible, the heels slowing you down slightly. Despite that, you managed to make it in time, the security guards redirecting you to the upstairs entrance.

“Pedro’s here and they’ve gone wild. You’ll have to go in where the guests come through. There's more of us up there.” Emily complained mildly about having to park farther than she’d like, but you weren’t really paying much attention to her. Since the guard had told you that your boyfriend was finally here, the only thing you could really focus on was getting to him.

You made your way down the stairs slowly but as fast as possible, trying to avoid using the handrails since the decorators had worked so hard on making them look nice. Suddenly, you heard the crowd gathered outside scream, distracting you from your slow descent. You’re glad they did because at the bottom of the staircase stood the man you couldn’t wait to get to, everything but him going out of focus.

He was wearing a maroon button-down tucked into a pair of black dress pants. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up, exposing his toned forearms as the black tie sat crooked around his neck. His hair was also slicked back, a few curls defying the gel and coming down to rest on his forehead. His brown eyes were crinkled, his blinding smile causing butterflies to erupt in your stomach almost as much as the trimmed facial hair that framed his jawline.

You continued to make your way down, now using the previously avoided handrails so you could go faster. When you got to the last two steps, he held his hand out for you to take. You gladly did, his calloused hand so large and warm compared to yours. You giggled when the dork pressed a light kiss to your knuckle.

“Are you my Jack for the night?” You teased, earning a snorted laugh from him.

“Nah. Just always wanted to do that. Didn’t think I’d get my chance tonight.” He made sure you came down the last two steps safely, you immediately wrapping your arms around him as soon as your heels touched the tiled floor. You laid your head on his shoulder with a content sigh, Pedro returning the hug as soon as you initiated it, his strong arms holding you tight as he pressed tender kisses to your temple.

“Missed you...” You said quietly, loud enough only for him to hear.

He parted with you ever so slightly to kiss you properly, his lips melding with yours so perfectly that you never wanted to come up for air.

“Alright, alright, break it up you two!” Your dad said, the only thing that saved you from being lost in his lips for the rest of the evening. “C’mon, everyone’s been waitin’ to see ya.” You looked back up at Pedro, smiling wide as soon as you saw that he was staring.

“Stop it.” You laugh. He laughs too, pressing another kiss to the side of your forehead.

“I can’t help it. Mi Abeja looks so pretty tonight.” You reached up to his tie to fix it for him, your eyes focusing on the poorly tied knot that he’d obviously done himself.

“Save it. We have to go greet the family before they blow a gasket.” You said, patting his chest once his tie was finished. He stood next to you and put his hand on the small of your back, gesturing towards the ballroom with his free one.

“Lead the way, honey.”

____________________

The party was well underway by now, the bass of the music thumping hard in your chest as you ate your second piece of birthday cake. It was no DQ ice cream cake, but you couldn’t deny that your aunt Judy could bake.

After the cake was cut, the DJ started playing music, inviting everyone out to the dancefloor. Pedro asked if you wanted to go dance but you turned him down.

“Not yet. I’ll join you once I get my fix on cake.” He nodded, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he left to join your brother and a few of your cousins who were already “cutting the rug” you guessed.

You watched as Pedro loosened up, him and your brother dancing so rediculously that you couldn't help but laugh.

Whether Pedro wanted to believe it or not, he was quickly becoming a Hollywood golden boy. He more than deserved it, but the pressure of it all got to him sometimes and you were ecstatic to see him relaxed for a change.

He’d long discarded his tie, the hair gel barely holding back his curls that started to drape over his eyes that were crinkled up from smiling.

The song they were dancing to ended with one last thud from the bass, the DJ grabbing the mic as soon as it stopped.

“Alright folks, now we’re going to sllooww things down to allow the birthday girl to share a special dance with her love.” You looked up mid-bite of cake, not expecting to be singled out like that.

Pedro walked over to you, offering his hand as the slow song began to play. You quickly swallowed the bite of cake and wiped your mouth off with a napkin, placing your hand in his and allowing him to lead you to the dance floor.

He placed his large hands on your hips, pulling you close and laying his forehead atop of yours as your snaked your arms around his neck. You swayed with him for a bit, the flash of your mom’s camera vaguely registering in your mind, but you didn’t care. It all fades to nothing when you’re with him.

“You’re so beautiful.” He said, his mocha gaze full of adoration when he lifted his head away to look at you.

“You’re not so bad yourself.”

“Even for an old man?” You snickered.

“So nice that any other old man could never compare.” He breathed a laugh through his nose, his crooked smile doing things to you.

You continued to sway to the song, Pedro spinning you around a few times before you settled back into your rhythm. You laid your head on his shoulder after a bit, allowing him to fully take the lead. One of his hands left your hip to come up and hold the back of your head as he pressed gentle pecks atop your head.

“I love you so much.” You smiled on his shoulder, one of your own hands tangling into his dark curls.

“I love you too.”

____________________

Later that night, you and Pedro laid quietly on your bed, his arms tightly wrapped around you as you watched TV together. It was super late and you both were exhausted, but neither of you wanted to sleep. You were quickly losing the battle, however. Your eyes starting to droop as Pedro played with your hair.

“Don’t tell me you’re tapping out already.” He teased, his voice pulling you from the edge.

“M’sorry. S’been a long day.” You felt his chest vibrate with a chuckle, his mustache tickling your cheek as he pressed a kiss to it.

“I had one more gift for you, but I guess it can wait until morning.” Despite how tired you were, you were curious as to what he could have up his sleeve and couldn't resist looking at him over your shoulder.

“What is it?” He laughed.

“Awake now, are we?” He teased, rising up from the sheets with you and getting up. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

It took him longer than you expected and he made quite a bit of noise, but it was well worth it.

He watched your eyes light up with happiness as soon as your gaze landed on the piece of DQ ice cream cake he was holding in his right hand, a single lit candle atop of it. He was also holding a blue gift box with a white bow, but you were more focused on the frozen treat at the moment.

“Aww, Pedro…” You cooed as he set the cake down in front of you with a kiss.

“Happy birthday, my sweet Abeja.” You blew the candle out and licked the ice cream off the bottom, setting it aside and digging into the slice. You groaned at the taste, the mattress shifting as Pedro sat back down next to you.

“Good?” You nodded.

“It’s DQ ice cream cake. How could it be bad?” He let you enjoy your treat, your attention suddenly shifting to the gift box he’d sat down. You pointed your fork at it.

“What’s that?” You asked with your mouthful. Pedro looked to the box and picked it up, gesturing for you to take it.

“Why don’t you open it and find out?” You gave him shifty eyes, setting your fork down to take the box out of his hands. You took the bow off and set it aside, lifting the lid off the box quickly. You froze when you saw what was inside.

Laying atop white tissue paper sat your passport and a Mickey Mouse ear hat. You slowly took the hat into your hands, only just now noticing the sticky note that was stuck on the other side. It read:

“To DisneyWorld we will go for your special day, to create memories that will forever stay.”

You didn’t even realize you were crying until Pedro reached up to wipe a tear off of your cheek.

“How… how did yo-”

“I asked your mom. She said that you’ve always wanted to spend your birthday at Disney but never had the money. I knew you wouldn’t go if I told you about it ahead of time, so your Mom and I worked together to throw you a party so you wouldn’t be suspicious.”

There was no way you could accept something this huge from him. It had to cost him a fortune… weeks of his schedule.

“What ab-”

“Shhh.” He shushed. “None of that. You deserve this, Abeja. You work so hard and barely get anything. Please, let me spoil you just this once.” You wanted to turn it down, the guilt of not helping him pay for it eating you up. Though you knew he was under contract with Disney in the first place and more than had enough money to pay for it, you still didn't want him to think that you were trying to mooch.

However, the look of pure nervousness and adoration on his face melted all of that guilt away.

You sat the hat down and reached for him, hugging him tightly as more tears fell down your cheeks.

“...Thank you.” Pedro let out a breath of air you didn’t know he was holding, his arms hugging you back tenfold.

“No amount of money is worth more than this. I promise you that, honey. You’re worth so much more.”

You ended up falling asleep wrapped in his embrace, the day finally catching up with you. Pedro gently laid down, making sure not to wake you as he situated you to lay atop his chest while he laid on his back. You stirred as he pulled the blanket over the both of you, but didn’t rouse any more after that.

He reached over and turned the TV off with the remote and switched off your lamp, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before drifting off right behind you.

#kayla's rambings #pedro pascal #my fanfiction #ice cream cake

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ambivalent-anarchy · 3 years

Text

Body

Part 1 of 2

Part 2

Masterlist

Gender: Female

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader

Warning: None

Anon requested- can I get a one shot where the reader does the body positivity trend with the new megan thee stallion song and the reader is insecure about how ppl will react to it?? Most importantly how peter will react to it?? K thanks

Awww I love doing smol readers and where Peter's actually the one that has it together lol sooo thanx for this

The TikTok is that new body positivity trend with that Megan Thee Stallion song. Couldn't link it because tumblr acts weird about links but part 2 will have a video for Peter. Also reader will be 18 (senior in high school) cuz some people think minors shouldn't participate in the trend lol

A/N: Either a motivation fairy hit me in the middle of the night or I'm really just that bored to the point where I had no choice but to get my motivation to write back. Either way I'm happy lol. Enjoy! Thanks to @yumings and @kelieah for helping me feel confident in this lol

Will definitely be a two parter🙂

---------------------------------------

Body oddy oddy oddy oddy oddy oddy oddy-

You'd finally finished editing the video.

It was a simple, short collage of all of your favorite selfies and pictures that showed off your body well. There was a new trend going around on TikTok and when you saw it you just had to jump at it headfirst.

People would take their favorite pictures of themselves, ones that showed off their bodies just the way they liked, and they'd put it to the sound of Megan Thee Stallion's song "Body".

You looked through your entire phone gallery to find pictures that you were confident enough to post, some you'd forgotten you even took in the first place.

When you were done, you threw in the simple caption that everyone was using.

Heard we're using this sound to show off. My turn then😜

Yeahhhhhh, the caption sounded much more confident than you actually felt.

You actually thought about deleting it from the minute you posted it. Insecure wasn't even the word for it. And even with your followers there to hype you up, you couldn't help but feel self-conscious. So, albeit hesitantly, you went to your friends for support.

The first person you showed was Michelle.

"You killed that," she said in math class as she passed you the phone underneath the table so that the professor wouldn't see.

"Thanks," you said. "I was honestly kinda nervous about it." You noticed her incredulous look and explained yourself, toying with the loose strings on your jacket. "Like seriously, I don't wanna fish for compliments, it's just that there are so many better ones out there."

Michelle gave a lopsided grin. "That's just you being insecure, you dork," she retorted. "You look hot." She gave an uninterested glare at the teacher when they told her to be quiet. Then she turned towards you with a smile. "You shown Peter yet? I bet he'd agree."

You shifted in your seat nervously and MJ immediately caught on. "What, you don't wanna show him?" She gave you a look when you took a while to answer. "Dude he's literally your boyfriend. I'm pretty sure he'll like it."

"MJ, we haven't even-" you looked around secretively. "-we haven't even taken our shirts off in front of each other yet. There's literally a pic of me in my sports bra and I.." You shrugged, a little embarrassed by the conversation topic. "I-i just don't know how he'd react."

You and Peter were a fairly new couple and were taking it slow. You'd only ever kissed, cuddled, and held hands so far. Plus, you were a major causal clothes wearer. Sweatshirts and jeans, those were your specialty. The two of you were in no rush and you were both fine with that, but you had no idea how he would react to seeing pictures of you like that.

And, though it wasn't the most feminist approach, you kinda wanted to impress him. Was that so bad?

MJ, forever the voice of patronizing reason, rolled her eyes at you. "So, let me get this straight. You're not fine with your boyfriend seeing sexy pictures of you, but you're okay with literal strangers seeing you instead?"

"Look, I know it's-"

"No, no I totally get it," she said with a sympathetic smirk, before laughing. "I just wanted to show you how dumb it sounded though."

The bell rang, signaling the end of class.

"Look," she said, standing up and getting her things. "You have nothing to be worried about. Peter practically worships the ground you walk on. He'll love it."

When you showed Ned, he genuinely didn't give a shit.

"Oh my God, there's a new Megan Thee Stallion album?!"

"Uh, yeah."

"I have to listen to it right now!"

"Yeah okay, but do you like the-"

He was already plugging in his headphones before you even finished your sentence.

You showed Harry next. If anyone was gonna rate you unabashedly, it'd definitely be him.

He was the only friend you had in your lunch period, so you met up with him every day. Towards the end of lunch that day, you'll pulled out your phone and asked if he wanted to see the video. He enthusiastically agreed.

He watched the short video with an amused expression, bopping his head to the music all the while.

When it ended, he handed you your phone back and gave you a high-five. "Damn girl!," he praised. "Just throwing it out there, if Peter fails you, I'm hella available."

"Heh, thanks." You smiled as you felt your entire face heat up. "Ya think he'll like it?"

"What, you haven't shown him yet?" You shook her head, giving a nervous smile. "Oh-" he nodded confidently. "-he'll love it. Trust me."

"Are you sure?," you asked.

"Yeah," he responded with a shrug. "Why are you so worried?"

"Because he's not-..he doesn't really seem-" You couldn't find the right words for it. "I dunno, I just really want him to like it!"

Harry scoffed. "Look. Let me tell you a little secret about Peter Parker," he snickered. "Or practically all guys for that matter."

"Okay?," you said, curious as to where this was going.

He smirked. "You remember when he introduced himself to you at my party last summer?"

You nodded.

"Well, hon..." Harry lowered his head to where he was whispering in your ear. "Your personality wasn't what he was noticing from across the room.. catch my drift?" He chuckled when he saw you blushing as you caught where his eyes had wandered. "Just sayin'."

Seeing your incredulous expression, Harry continued. "Peter likes to act like he's not checking you out every second of the day, but I promise you he is. That little "I'm so respectful and bashful" crap he has going is complete B.S."

You smirked and rolled your eyes as he pulled away from your ear and kept walking. "You're an ass."

Harry shrugged. "True, but I'm a realistic ass." The alarm on his phone sounded which marked his time to start heading to his next class. Standing up, he smiled down at you. "Seriously, if I could take back all the time spent listening to Pete go on about how good you look in your jeans, I'd be one well rested guy."

You rolled your eyes, but it betrayed the small smile growing. After all, he wouldn't be Harry if he wasn't a flirtatious dweeb. "Bye Harry."

"Show him the video, [Y/N]. He'll love it. You know I'm right."

And then there was one...

Later in the day, you were talking with MJ after school, waiting because Peter always insisted on driving you home because chivalry was not going to die as long as he was alive to keep it going.

When he finally showed up, the first thing he did was take you by the hand and give you a quick peck on the forehead.

"How are you guys doing?," he asked as your little trio started to walk.

"We're good," you chirped, ever so conscious of the phone in your pocket that you were suddenly very hesitant to pull out.

MJ noticed and nudged you. "You got anything you wanna show anybody, [Y/N]?," she asked with a smirk, causing Peter to look at you curiously.

You stayed quiet, but MJ still wasn't putting up with it. "I think you may have a video that you made..."

You remained silent and Peter looked at you, a lot more confused now. MJ frowned. "Um... cough.. cough."

Peter laughed and stopped walking. "Okay, what am I missing?" He looked to you and when he didn't see your expression falter, he looked to MJ. "What's going on?"

Michelle shrugged. "[Y/N] wants to show you a dumb TikTok she made but she's scared about how you'll react."

"Michelle!," you scolded.

She shrugged again. "What? You weren't going to say anything anytime soon."

"A TikTok?," Peter questioned. "Cool, which one did you do this time?"

You could feel your face heat up for the hundredth time that day. "It's a...um.." You stared down at the ground. Jesus, this was hard. "..It's a body positivity trend."

His eyebrows went up at that. "Oh, well um.. is it cool if I see it?," he asked.

You blushed. "Sure." You pulled out your phone and opened the app. When you got to the video you quickly shoved it into his face before you had a chance to second-guess yourself.

Both you and Michelle watched Peter's face as he watched the video.

His cheeks immediately turned red but his expression was unreadable. He had to have watched it over 5 times before MJ pulled the phone out of his hand. "Helloooo, earth to Peter Parker?"

She snapped into his face several times and he started to blink wildly, apparently being pulled out of a trance. "I...um- heh.."

You gave a small, nervous smile. "..did you like it?," you asked, growing confused as stared at you, his expression still the same. "Um, Peter?"

Suddenly, he smiled and let out a little chuckle. "Sorry... just..." He laughed again and scratched his head, unable to keep eye contact. "You're just- like.... really hot."

You blushed. Fuck. "You're not just saying that are you?"

"No, really like-" He looked back at the phone. "...Damn." He bit his lip. "How on earth did I get so lucky?"

"Okay, can we please get in the car before I throw up?"

The two of you looked at an uncomfortable MJ with embarrassment riddled on your faces. "Yeah, totally," you said with an awkward cough. "Sorry."

"Nice video [Y/N]," Peter murmured bashfully, opening the door of his car for you, his face still beet red. "Really nice..."

Tagging: @allegra-writes, @allegra-soleil l, @yumings, @hey-its-grey, @spideyyeet, @sunkissedspidey, @tommyunderoos, @chaoticpete, @snarky--starky, @sovereignparker, @thesherlockianavenger, @bubblebucky, @eridanuswave, @ithoughtthiswastwitterbutfr , @kidney9-9, @gwenvrse

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thecampfirestory · 4 years

Text

Campfire AU AU Part 1 - The 4th Wall Hath Been Broketh

“So guys did any of you happen to recently, I dunno, maybe get hacked or something?” Roman stood in the doorway holding his laptop, shifting from one foot to the other nervously. Dee turned his swivel chair toward the door, eyebrow raised.

“No… why?”

“Uh...well… I think… it’s kinda hard to explain, just look-!” Roman nervously mustered before turning around the laptop to reveal a Tumblr blog page labeled ‘tscampfireau’. The blog showed many drawings and sketches. Dee just gave Roman a look.

“What am I supposed to be seeing right now?”

Roman quickly walked over to Dee’s desk, plopping the laptop down, scrolling until they clicked on a picture. “Look.” Dee looked closer - there, detailed in fine pen, was his mom’s wedding photo, complete to the exact detail of Virgil’s corsage, the expressions… this was a perfect recreation of the wedding photo framed downstairs in the living room. It didn’t make sense, no one uploaded it online. “Don’t you see, Dee? This blog has all the details of our entire lives. It gets… extremely personal.”

“Is this some kind of prank or something?” Dee asked. “Cause if it is, it’s not funny.”

“This isn’t a prank, you know your Mom would notice if I took that photo,” Roman said as dee turned back to the screen. “How the fuck do they have your Mom’s wedding picture?!”

“I...I don’t…” Dee said, grabbing his phone and pressing Remus’s number. It took two rings for his best friend to answer.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Rem, something’s happened, I need you to grab the others and meet me over here now,” Dee said, trying to hide his concern.

“Dee, what’s going on?” Remus’s tone turned serious at his friend’s slightly distressed tone.

“Just get everyone over here, I promise you’ll understand-”

----------------------------------------------------------------------

“There is nothing about this I understand.” Remus declared as Virgil scrolled through the laptop, giggling a bit at the comments. Patton and Logan sat on the bed, another laptop between them as they scrolled through.

“Remus, someone’s made a Tumblr blog that has all the personal details of our entire lives. Every moment we thought we were alone, every weird quirk, every personal pile of garbage - all compacted together for everyone to see.”

“‘Patton doesn’t like most of himself at this point. He believes he’s currently at rock bottom.’” Patton reads aloud. “Okay, that’s most definitely fake.” He looks up to smile at the others as the sentence and realization sink in, and his smile begins to fade. “Well...shit-”

“Jirt Jar!” Virgil yelled, and Patton sighed.

“Okay, okay, I shouldn’t have cursed-”

“No, no, they know about Jirt Jar!!” Virgil says. Before clicking on a photo with him and the Jirt Jar, smiling at it. “Wow, they even drew the wormies, Addy!”

“GUYS…” Logan said, looking at the laptop shocked. “They know about my bone theory, they know about the bone theory!”

“You mean that time when we were talking about injuries and-” Roman began before Logan quickly interrupted.

“Yes, yes, I know!” Logan said. “Point is, I never told anyone besides you guys, not even on social media. How in the hell did they-?!”

“What do we do, Dee?” Roman asked. “Do you think we should go to the police?”

“I...I don’t think that’s a good idea, we don’t have enough evidence, they’ll probably think it’s a prank.” Dee said, looking over to Remus. “Rem? Got any bright ideas?”

“Maybe we could...I dunno, All I know is that we need to get some answers, one way or another.”

LMAO U RLLY MADE A FIC SGDBGDHDHFJHDHFH OMG

#submission #campfire fics

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whatdidimissjm · 3 years

Text

Bed-Ridden

Someone sent me an ask requesting Lams with the prompt “that wasn´t even a sentence” but tumblr was so nice and deleted the ask, so whoever you are, here you go! Hope you like it!

John feels like shit. He has started feeling like he might come down with something a few days ago, but had brushed it off as something that would surely pass if he kept it low for a day or two. Now, on day two of keeping it low, though, he definitely doesn´t feel better and he is pretty sure his fever is a lot higher than it was the day before. After an internal debate he gets up from the couch, where he must have fallen asleep yesterday, intending to go to the kitchen, but when he sits up, the room around him starts spinning and he has to hold onto the couch to not fall from it. John doesn´t even know how long it takes, until the room isn´t spinning anymore, absentmindedly asking himself why it can even do that. He brushes the question off for later, when he isn´t feeling as bad anymore. He grabs one of the blankets and wraps it around himself to fight off the cold, faintly noticing that he is shivering.

After just sitting there for some time, not trusting that the room won´t start spinning again, as soon as he tries to leave to couch, he feels something vibrating next to his leg. John frowns and after a moment he lifts the blanket and finds his phone. A smile appears on his face as he unlocks it and clicks on the new message – a gif from Alex. He hesitates, not sure if he should say anything about his condition, before texting Alex back.

John: Hey, not feeling too great, I´m a bit sick, wanna keep me company?

He checks twice if he has spelled everything correctly, before he hits send. Then he puts the phone down next to him on the couch again, closing his eyes. The little bit of mental effort it has taken to compose the text message has left him completely drained and with a raging headache.

John must have nodded off again, because he startles awake when his phone vibrates again. He screws up his face and looks around in confusion, his heart beating loud and fast in his chest. When the phone vibrates with another message, he finally connects the noise he hears and picks up the phone, squinting at the bright screen. His eyes need a few moments to adjust to the light and when they do, he´s able to unlock the phone.

Alex: You know I have this one project I need to finish…

Alex: Pretty sure you can handle this cold on your own

Alex: I´ll call you when I´m done

John can feel his eyes welling up, but he blinks the tears away, trying to ignore the disappointment that´s starting to rise up inside of him. He thinks about what to text Alex back and in the end, he settles on a simple “ok” and throws the phone back onto the couch. A moment later it vibrates once more, but John can´t bring himself to look at it again and just closes his eyes. In theory, he knows that Alex wasn´t trying to be mean, but it still hurts him. The phone vibrates next to him again, so he just pushes it off the couch and pulls the blanket up to his chin, curling in on himself, not able to keep the tears at bay anymore.

John drifts in and out of sleep for some time, not sure if the things he sees are real or just fever dreams. He has lost all sense of time and when he wakes up once more, he doesn´t know if he has spent hours or days on the couch. The room is still spinning around him every time he moves and he feels a lot worse than before. His throat is dry, his whole body is drenched in sweat and even though he is incredibly hot, he is shivering and the knocking, that´s echoing through the flat, sends bolts of pain through his head.

The knocking that´s echoing through the flat…

It takes him a moment to realise that the knocking is coming from his front door and another moment until he manages to gather up the strength to sit up. John pulls the blanket clumsily around his shivering body and stands up, swaying on his feet. The room around him tilts at the sudden movement and he nearly falls down, but manages to hold onto the couch to keep upright. For a moment, he just stays there, breathing hard and trying not to fall down again, before he makes his way towards the front door. John doesn´t know how he does it without fainting or knocking into something, but he is glad when he finally reaches it. He fumbles around with the key for what feels like hours, before he finally manages to unlock the door. He throws it open, which causes him to stumble and fall forward. Instead of hitting the floor like he anticipated though, he finds himself held up by two arms, but unable to get his balance back. Distantly he hears someone talking, but he is far too out of it to make any sense of what the person is saying. He tries to tell them that, but doesn´t think he gets the message across.

“That wasn´t even a sentence.”, the person says, and John frowns. He knows that voice.

“Lex?”, he asks, his voice slurred.

Alex answers something that John doesn´t understand, but he is happy that Alex is here. He barely notices that Alex guides him back to the couch, only realising that they aren´t at the door anymore, when Alex makes him sit down.

“How´d we get here?”, he asks, or at least he thinks he has asked that. Talking and thinking is hard.

“I carried you.”, Alex answers, and even through his fever haze, John can hear the worry in his voice.

“Cute. Wanna kiss.”, John says, but Alex just shakes his head.

“How long have you been this sick?”

John just stares at his boyfriend for some time, trying to make sense of his words, before he shrugs.

“Dunno.”

Alex nods slowly, the worry now obvious on his face. John doesn´t want Alex to look like that, so he reaches out to put his hand on Alex´s cheek, but misses and punches his nose instead. He frowns and tries again, but Alex catches his hand and puts it down in his lap, before it can come anywhere near his face again.

“Baby, can you stay awake for a minute, until I´m back?”

John nods after a moment, but when Alex tries to get up, he weakly holds onto his hand.

“Please, don´t leave me again. I don´t wanna be alone.”, he pleads, his voice cracking.

An expression of pain passes over Alexander´s face, and he kisses John´s forehead, before he gently pulls his hand away.

“I´m not leaving you, I´ll be back in a second, just going to the bathroom real quick, alright?”

Reluctantly, John nods and allows Alex to get up. He watches his boyfriend walk away and as soon as he can´t see him anymore, he curls up on the couch, hugging a pillow to his chest, trying and failing to supress his tears. John flinches when he feels someone touching his shoulder a moment later, nearly falling off the couch.

“John, why are you crying?”, Alex asks concerned. “Are you in pain?”

John shrugs and looks away, letting out a soft sob.

“John.”, Alex tries again, gently brushing the tears from his cheeks.

John closes his eyes for a moment, just enjoying the gentle stroke of Alex´s hand.

“I don´t want you to leave.”, he mumbles finally.

“I´m here. I´m always here, baby.”

John just shakes his head again, still refusing to look up at Alex and pushes his hand away.

“No, I texted you and you didn´t come.”

“Baby.”, Alex says, gently tilting his head up. “I came immediately when you didn´t reply to my texts anymore.”

“What?”

Alex softly brushes his hair out of his face.

“We´ll talk about this later, alright? For now, I´m checking your temperature and then we´ll think about what to do with you. Sounds good?”

John nods after a moment, allowing Alex to take his temperature. He looks up when Alex doesn´t say anything after the thermometer has beeped and sees his boyfriend frowning at it.

“I´m calling a doctor.”

“No, I´m fine.”, John mumbles. “Call one tomorrow.”

Alex hesitates and looks down at the thermometer for a second, then back at his boyfriend.

“Your fever´s very high, though.”, Alex argues, but even through the fever haze John can hear his resolve weakening.

“Only need meds and food, that´ll help. Doctor tomorrow.”

John sees Alexander´s shoulders slumping and finally, he nods, mumbling something John doesn´t even try to understand. He barely notices Alex leaving his side once more, his eyes suddenly feeling way too heavy and he doesn´t have the energy to keep them open any longer. But Alex is here, and everything is alright, so he doesn´t fight it and just drifts off to sleep with a smile on his face.

#lams #alexander hamilton #john laurens #hamilton #hamilton fic #lams fic #hamilton musical #my writing #mine #my fics

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franeridart · 4 years

Text

Anon said: “I’ll have to draw something soft tomorrow” she says, then promptly disappears into the void.

Surprisingly enough, I don’t actually post everything I draw

Anon said: i NEED some todobakukiri art from you bc it’s just so damn beautiful;-;

You mean that you’d like to see more art for them from me? Cause I dunno when that’ll happen, sorry! But I’m glad you liked what I did already post <3

Anon said: I have a fever right now and I feel really sick but I’m taking the opportunity to tell you your art heals my soul. Thanks for making me feel better

Ah gods I’m glad to hear that!! Thank you so much!!! <3<3

Anon said: can I use your art in a video edit?

I’d prefer it if you didn’t, sorry!

Anon said: I love your art so much. When I recognise your artsyle on my dash, I know the next few seconds are gonna be good. You draw things so good.

Holy smokes thank you!!! Somehow hearing people recognize my style still feels wonderfully surprising, ngl!

Anon said: you are such an inspiration to me!! all your headcanons and your pretty art and the way you make relationships so humanly happy makes your page my happy place. i just want to say thank you for your posts and for being such a wholesome person because even though i rarely use tumblr, every time i come onto your page i get something that makes me smile!

Thank you!! Thank you so so much!!!!! This means the whole world to me!!!!!!!! <3<3<3<3

Anon said: do you mind me using your art as my wallpaper?

On your phone? Not at all, go for it! Thank you for wanting to!!

Anon said: Your Kiribaku children are SO PRECIOUS!!

THANK YOU!!!! I haven’t drawn them in so long I kinda miss them ;;;;;;;;;;;; they were fun

Anon said: I like how everytime you have Bakugo cry, Kirishima cries also or looks like he's upset as well. It's just a nice detail I've noticed! Very nice art you have❤

Glad to hear you noticed it and like it!! Bakugou is an angry crier and Kirishima a sympathetic one, so I feel like with them tearing up in emotional moments is a pretty common occurence haha

Anon said: Bro, I don't ship Kiribaku but your art is kinda making me wanna. stop being such a good artist okay

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! In my completely biased opinion krbk is a wonderful ship to ship, so maybe you might want to reconsider not shipping it!! >:]c

Anon said: I’M JUST SAYING , I’m a disaster bi and your art work of Mina and Sero is not helping!! They look freaking amazing!

BOY thank you!!!!!! They’re kinda challenging to draw so I’m glad you think so!!!

Anon said: I’m so tired but I’m feeling sappy so THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR EVERYTHING YOUR ART HELPS THIS EARTH

Ahhhhhhhhhhhh thank you! I’m not sure about the earth but I’m glad to know it can help you!!!

Anon said: Me : *goes absolute mad shit feral bonkers over the tiny chibi kamisero in the corner of one (1) pic where they aren't even the central point* THANK U FOR MY LIFE

Haha glad my little silly self-indulgence can make you happy!!

Anon said: I didn’t get into art school (ToT)

Aw man, I’m so so sorry to hear that )))): I hope whatever back-up plan you had works for you, anon!!

Anon said: I had volleyball conditioning and afterwards I looked at your art and it took away the muscle pain

That nearly sounds like a superpower I definitely wouldn’t mind owning! Imagine actually being able to rid people of physical pain through art............... sounds like a dream!

#fran answers #some long overdue #it feels like every time i make up my mind to be on a schedule with these things life decides to get in the way extra hard #geh #i'll have to work harder to fight it

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averykedavra · 4 years

Text

@deceitnotyeet I’m sorry for the mixup, Tumblr still manages to confuse me after three months. Does anyone know whether you can add a readmore to an ask? I didn’t think that would be a problem but then the post got super long...sorry, technology is not my strong suit.

Anyway. Thanks for prompting me! This was a lot of fun to write. I don’t usually write this ship, so apologies if it seems out of character, and apologies for making it way longer than I expected. I tried to write a fluffy drabble and then feelings happened. I’m so sorry for the confusion and lateness if you got this alert twice or not at all.

Word count: 1732

Warnings: some self-deprecation and insecurity, talk of explosions, mutilation, and death (in a joking fashion, nothing serious.)

I’m always open to prompts! You can find this story on Ao3 here.

The moment Janus knew he was in trouble was the moment Remus opened his mouth and said “I have an idea.”

Janus pushed himself away from his desk and stood up. “I’ll get the fire extinguisher.”

“Hey!" Remus protested. "You haven't even heard the idea yet!"

"I don't need to." Janus folded his arms. "The last time you said that, we almost incinerated a preschool."

"It's not my fault crayons are so flammable!"

"They...really aren't. I'm still not sure how you accomplished that."

Remus gave a shrug and grinned wider.

"Whatever you're planning to do," Janus continued, "it's probably dangerous, reckless, and illegal."

"Well, duh, it wouldn't be any fun otherwise!"

Janus sighed. "You're not doing it."

"Aww, come on!" Remus stuck out his bottom lip. "Pwease, JayJay? I promise nobody will get hurt!"

"What's the idea, then?"

Remus bit his lip. "Blow up stuff with dry ice?"

Janus narrowed his eyes. "What."

"I bought some last week!" Remus explained. "You can get some for like ten bucks on eBay, it's awesome—"

"What."

"'Cause I saw this video where they exploded a huge iron crate with dry ice, like a dry ice bomb, and they said not to try it at home so I figured I could do it in a Walmart parking lot or something—"

"What?"

"And the dry ice arrived yesterday and I don't have anything to do and can I please blow something up?"

“Remus,” Janus spluttered, “that’s incredibly illegal!”

“Not that illegal.” Remus ran his hand through his hair. "Anyway, you're all about sticking it to the man, right?"

"I'd much rather put my time and effort into a systematic dismantling of the current governmental hierarchy than setting off dry ice bombs in a parking lot."

"Party pooper," Remus complained. "You don't have to come or anything."

Janus rolled his eyes. "I'm not letting you go alone and set off dry ice bombs in a parking lot!"

Remus grinned. "So you're coming with?"

"No, I'm keeping you captive." Janus grabbed Remus' wrist. "You're going to sit right here and I'm going to go get that dry ice and throw it out."

"You can't just throw out dry ice," Remus pointed out. "Unless you want to destroy the trash can. Wait—hey, can we throw out the dry ice?"

"No!" Janus tried to stop himself from laughing. "I'll Google how you get rid of dry ice. I'm sure there's a safe way."

"Google it, then." Remus' eyes sparkled. "Now."

Janus pulled out his phone and Googled 'getting rid of dry ice.' "Wait, there's a WikiHow for this?"

"There's a WikiHow for everything."

"True." Janus scrolled through the page. "Okay, so we just have to let it sublimate. Stick it in a warm room and let it evaporate for a few days."

"A few days?" Remus looked around. "Where would we put it, the kitchen?"

"Why don't you figure that out?" Janus snapped. "It's not like I was the one who brought a packet of dry ice into our apartment.”

“Rude!” Remus smiled. “Hey, if we just explode it, we’ll be rid of it in seconds.”

“Yeah, along with our arms.”

“Who needs arms anyway?” Remus poked at his elbow. “Mine are always getting in the way. They’re nice and bendy, but I’ve always wanted to learn how to write with my toes. Losing my arms in an explosion could be a learning opportunity. Then again,” he added, flexing his nonexistent muscles, “depriving you of these lovely specimens would definitely be a crime.”

Janus tried to stifle his laughter. “So is exploding stuff in a parking lot, in case you didn’t know.”

“I won’t do it in a parking lot, then.” Remus clasped his hands together. “JayJay, please. Boyfriends are supposed to support each other!”

“Uh-uh. You’re on your own. You can go get yourself killed, and when you die, I’ll write you an obituary.” Janus flopped onto the couch and deftly flipped up his laptop. He began to type, reading aloud as he wrote.

“This is written in honor of Remus Prince, recently deceased. He, like the idiot he is, decided to explode dry ice in an unknown location. His brain got blown to itty-bitty pieces and he is now dead. He is survived by a twin brother, a beleaguered boyfriend, and the several rats who seem to regard him as their king.” Remus cackled. “His boyfriend, who is very handsome and intelligent and deserves better, seemed grieved by the news. ‘I loved him deeply,’ said the boyfriend, ‘but he has no braincells and this was bound to happen eventually. At least he won’t leave dishes in the sink unwashed anymore.’“

Remus collapsed onto the floor, roaring with laughter. Janus chuckled too. It was easy to make Remus laugh, but it still made him feel warm and snuggly and other things he would never admit to if his life depended on it.

"Flowers can be delivered to their apartment,” Janus concluded. “Please send corpse lilies, for the smell is quite similar to the deceased’s farts and reminds his boyfriend of the good times.”

“M-my farts are the good times?”

“All the times would be the good times if you were deceased,” Janus said. “Except for the time you tied spaghetti noodles to the ceiling fan. That would still be a bad time.”

Then Remus abruptly stopped laughing. Confused, Janus closed his laptop and peeked at his boyfriend. Remus was lying on the ground, a mess of curls around his head, eyes wide.

“What is it?” Janus asked.

Remus blinked a few times. “You said you love me.”

“I—what?” Janus mentally rewound their conversation. “I don’t think I—“

‘I loved him deeply,’ said the boyfriend.

“Oh,” Janus said weakly.

“Yeah,” Remus agreed.

“Well, I do,” Janus said. “You know that. We’ve been dating for a year, did you think I hated your guts?”

“No,” Remus said. “I just—you never said it before. Out loud.”

“I suppose I didn’t.” Janus frowned. “Didn’t you...realize? I thought you knew.”

“I knew,” Remus said unconvincingly.

Janus pursed his lips. “Really.”

“Yeah! I know you love me!” Remus shrugged, still on the floor. “I just...I dunno. Think too much sometimes.”

After a moment of hesitation, Janus slipped off the couch and lay on the floor next to his boyfriend. He rested his hand on Remus’, and after a moment, Remus took it.

“I’m sorry,” Janus mumbled.

“What?” Remus looked insulted. “Why?”

“Because...” Janus looked over at his demented, ludicrous, wonderful boyfriend. “Because if I’d known, I would have told you way before now.”

“You don’t have to do anything,” Remus muttered. “I’m just being insecure and shit, don’t—“

“I don’t have to do anything,” Janus agreed. “But I want to. If you doubt that I love you, I want to prove you wrong.”

“You don’t—” Remus shifted on the carpet, avoiding Janus’ eyes. “I mean, you don’t have to—“

“Are you interfering with my life plans?” Janus teased. “Because we agreed we wouldn’t interfere with each other’s life plans.”

Remus chuckled a little bit, which Janus counted as a victory. “Yeah, but you still stop me from blowing shit up.”

“Because I love you,” Janus said. “And because I wouldn’t want you dead or in jail. Because I love you.”

Remus rolled his eyes. “I get it, JayJay.”

“Do you?” Janus asked. “It’s come to my attention that, in fact, you don’t understand that I love you. So...”

“So?”

“I love you, Remus Prince.” Janus grasped Remus’ chin and pulled his face around until he was staring into his eyes. “I love the way you laugh at everything I say even when it’s not funny. I love the way you fall asleep on my shoulder when we watch weird animal documentaries together. I love how you helped me practice my debating skills by giving me random phrases to explain logically. Every part of you that you’re insecure about, that you think is weird or imperfect or stupid?” Janus ran his thumb under Remus’ eye. “I don’t love you in spite of those. I love you because of them. I love you so much, Remus, and I’m furious with myself for not letting you know sooner.”

And Remus, who knew every swear word in the English language, regularly walked around the apartment naked because it was “freeing,” and made more sexual innuendos than Janus thought humanly possible...Remus blushed. Deeply. He giggled and tried to hide his face in Janus’ chest, ears flaming red.

Janus immediately decided his life’s mission was to make Remus blush more often.

“I-I love you too,” Remus mumbled into Janus’ shirt.

Janus chuckled and placed a kiss on Remus’ head. “I already knew that. But thank you.”

Remus looked up, smiled, and kissed him.

It wasn’t how anyone would expect Remus to kiss, not heated or sloppy. Simple and sweet and thankful. Janus cupped Remus’ cheeks and kissed him back. It was a practiced motion. He knew Remus inside and out, he knew the exact way Remus tilted his head into the kiss, the exact texture of his hair and the exact place where his cheeks puckered with dimples. But it didn’t make it any less wonderful. It was safe and reliable and felt like home.

“Don’t you have work to do?” Remus asked when the kissing stopped, cuddled into Janus’ chest, their legs tangled on the floor.

“It can wait.” Janus smirked. “It’s come to my attention that a certain boyfriend of mine is planning to blow some dry ice up in a parking lot. As a concerned citizen, it’s my duty to stop him any way I can.”

Remus grinned. “How will you stop me, exactly?”

“You can’t go blow things up if you can’t move.” Janus pulled Remus closer, wrapping an arm around his back. “So I must keep you with me as my prisoner. For the sake of civilization.”

“Civilization’s the only reason you’re doing it?”

“Absolutely,” Janus agreed. “In fact, maybe we can get some pillows and have a matinee session. It wouldn’t be good for my prisoner to get bored.”

Remus laughed, his green eyes sparkling. “You’re a weakling, I could escape anytime.”

“But do you want to?” Janus asked, reaching out and running his hands through Remus’ hair.

Remus buried his face in Janus’ shoulder, mumbling something that sounded like “Cheating.”

Janus smiled softly.

“Love you too.”

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puttingfingerstokeys · 4 years

Text

faraday cage

so the title should tell you the ship (if you’re familiar with my terminology), but if not, it’s Faraday Cage (Johnny/Raiden). Spacing’s all fucky and, as usual, tumblr eats italics. I’m a lazy POS tho so here ya go! One day I STG I’mma post these on Ao3, with like maybe more words/deets. I skimmed this one before I posted it, so like, hopefully it’s not a TOTAL mess. Hilarious ‘cause the story actually titled “How Come Cassie Gets Two Dads” is only like... POTENTIAL faraday cage and also isn’t in the prevented timeline at all (I mislabeled it initially, WOOPS).

Prevented timeline

“Hey, Raidude, I’ve got a question for ya.

“Yes, Johnny Cage?”

Raiden shifted on the lawn chair to face the mortal who addressed him, fully aware that whatever came out of the man’s mouth next would almost certainly be foolish. He was eager to hear it.

“What color’s your hair?”

“Oh my GOD, dad; you can’t just ask a guy what color his hair is—that’s so weird!” Cassie, just emerging from the house with a plate of lemonade for the three of them, was appalled at her father’s lack of courtesy toward their divine guest. That, or she was simply messing with him. “It’s like asking a girl if her hair is dyed—that shit stings.”

“It does not insult me, Cassandra Cage,” Raiden reassured the woman, taking the offered glass and giving a serene smile in return. She rolled her eyes. He would never stop calling her Cassandra Cage. She suspected he could not help it. “Fujin and I are twins, thus...” He trailed off, gesturing at his own pause. “But I understand—”

“Wait, you guys are twins?” This was Cassie, settling down next to her father, two glasses in hand. Johnny tipped his shades down his nose to better judge if the god of thunder was toying with them. He was, as usual, not.

“Why is this surprising?” Raiden seemed genuinely taken aback, in point of fact, that the mortals had not known this from the start. He had never made mention of it, because it had never mattered. Every day, he was surprised, again and again, by the things the Cage family said or did, or asked, in this case; it revealed still more layers to the complexity of mortality.

“You just don’t—I mean he looks like he could be, I dunno, mid thirties?” Johnny looked to Cassie for confirmation. She pursed her lips and nodded. “And you’re like—”

“A dad,” Cassie filled in. “Like, sorry in advance and all that, but lowkey dilf status.”

Johnny went red. Cassie was also colored to the ears. Raiden looked between them and understood context with enough acuity to know that whatever she had just said was not, in general, something one discussed in polite or mixed company.

“CASS!” Johnny finally managed to hiss this and give his daughter a hard sidelong glance.

“Well not ME, but like, y’know…” She gestured in Raiden’s general direction, while the god himself was having a mental field day observing their antics. It must truly have been glorious to be mortal, to experience many things only once, seeing phenomena which, to a god, occurred millions of times in the eons of their lifespan, but to a mortal were wholly unique, singular, and precious.

“Well whaddabout me?” Now Johnny was on the warpath. Raiden leaned back in his seat and observed the exchange further, still wondering what “dilf” signified.

“No, dad, I’m not asking anyone that. Gross.” Cassie made a face. “I mean you’re a movie star, so like, someone prolly thinks you’re hot.”

Johnny laughed aloud at that and drank deep of his lemonade, shielding his eyes from the California sun. “That’s good ‘nuff for me. I just need someone to think I’m hot and it’s all good. My ego is very fragile.”

The three sat in silence a while, the only sound accompanying them a light clinking of ice cubes on glass when someone took a drink. It was peaceful and they finally—all three—felt as if they could breathe once more.

“So Fujin’s really your twin, huh?” Johnny was, evidently, not ready to let that point go. Raiden nodded.

“He is the wind and I the lightning,” he said simply, as if this explained it all. “His appearance is that of a much younger man, but keep in mind, we are neither mortal, nor human.”

“Your appearance probably reflects your job, or something, right?” Cassie was taking a stab in the dark, but she was neither stupid nor unobservant. “I mean you’re like the cosmic dad, so, it kinda makes sense you look like one.”

Raiden pursed his lips, considered this, and nodded. “I am flattered, Cassandra Cage, that you consider me a father figure.”

“What am I,” Johnny grunted, crossing his arms and imitating a pouting child, “chopped liver?”

“I can have two dads, dad,” Cassie returned almost without thinking. Her cheeks colored, but she pressed on. “It’s the twenty-first century.”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Johnny, drowning the words in more lemonade and waving his daughter off. “I dunno if Electric Slide here wants the job, though, do ya, big guy? Cassie’s a handful.”

“Cassandra Cage is a competent kombatant; she takes after both her mother and father; I would be honored to fight by her side.”

Raiden’s answers to these things always came across in one of two ways: pedantic and pontificating, or sweeping, all-encompassing, realm-crossing philosophies. This was the latter. Cassie froze a moment, her brain scrambling for words. It was an immense compliment she had just been paid and she, the motormouth of the century, had nothing to say in return.

“Th…thanks,” she stammered, mimicking her father and drowning more words in lemonade. She had her mother’s eyes, in shape if not color, Raiden had noticed, and they widened the same way when he complimented her. He did not hand these out without thought, and so he was pleased she understood the gravity of his meaning. “I’m… prolly not callin’ you dad, though; that’d be kinda weird.”

“Y’think the neighbors would buy the ‘uncle’ bit?” Johnny ventured, speaking to his daughter.

“No way. That just makes you guys sound like a couple on the DL; no one’s on the DL anymore, especially not in Beverly Hills.” The Cages laughed aloud and Raiden smiled once more. Their mirth was infectious. He felt lighter in their presence. It was refreshing. The thunder god felt safe alongside them, a strange phenomenon he did not realize he had lacked until it was placed in his lap, so to speak. He removed his hat and set it gently aside, desirous of the sun’s warmth upon his brow.

Johnny noticed immediately when Raiden reached up to then loosen and remove the cap which he wore underneath his hat. That thing was a piece of headwear almost as famous as Kung Lao’s razor-edged lid; Johnny could not remember the last time he saw Raiden not wearing it, if ever. Cassie turned as the cap came free and, spilling out, absent of its confining presence, was a thick, light-catching, glossy mane of the whitest hair they had ever seen—save on Fujin, of course. Raiden felt about in his hair and made the face of someone who has lost something.

“Your uh… scrunchy broke?” Cassie was the first to find her words. She didn’t know what she was witnessing, precisely, but she knew it was rare. Raiden was far too tightly wound to simply take his hat AND cap off in front of just anyone. She wondered if they were the first people to see his hair in millennia. Her heart thudded a little faster as she considered it; this was special and she didn’t even have her phone on her (yet another rare occurrence).

Cassie Cage played the part of a flippant valley girl, but her guts were her mother’s and cleverness and bravery came before all else. She could drink all the iced coffee she wanted, wear the most expensive shades, and shop only at places called boutiques, but she was still a Blade. Blade women looked upon gods with the appropriate awe and she was doing just that at this moment.

But that was nothing compared to her father.

Johnny was, in a word, thunderstruck by Raiden’s voluminous hair and was assaulted all at once by the urge to see it spread out on a pillow. He stowed that, quick and hard, trying to replace his expression with something resembling nonchalant serenity and contentment, as if it was totally normal for the god of thunder to be disrobing in his presence.

“I seem to have misplaced it, yes,” admitted Raiden, almost sadly. “But it was ancient and… on occasion, ancient things … tire out.”

Johnny leaned forward and took a chance, laying a hand upon Raiden’s knee, lightly, knowing the clothing he wore protected from much of his electrical potential, but not all. There was a low buzz just beneath his fingers. “You’re tired, but not tired out, man,” he reminded Raiden. Cassie was standing quietly, sneaking away from her seat. She knew what she was seeing and it would be best to get a move on while their attention was focused on each other. “You’re a god—like, an eternal battery; you guys never run out.”

“Your confidence in us is flattering, Johnny Cage,” said Raiden sadly, “but ultimately misplaced.”

“I don’t think it is,” responded Johnny with resolve. “No, see, I’m not built to have faith in something I haven’t seen—someone who I don’t know can deliver on his promises, or fight damn hard to do it.” What other god would go to the lengths Raiden had to protect his people? Johnny couldn’t think of a single mythological example, at least. “I have faith in you because you’ve more than earned it.”

It was now Raiden’s turn to be struck dumb. His lips were parted, just a little, as if he had intended to protest, but the protest died thereupon and was caught, suddenly and without warning, by Johnny’s.

#cc #cw #mortal kombat #faraday cage #johnny cage #raiden

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clumsyclifford · 4 years

Text

you and i are finally gonna get it right

seems like i should post this on tumblr as well because that seems to be the thing to do so here i am, doing that :) massive overwhelming shoutouts to @ashesonthefloor for reading this when it was even worse than it is now & helping me with it and also @cliiffords for letting me talk nonstop about how horrible it is <3 (fair warning: this fic is 5k so if youre on mobile...settle in lol)

here’s an ao3 link you can use if you prefer

If Michael has to pioneer the movement of normalizing being tattoo-free, then so be it. He and Calum will be the frontmen. - Neither Michael nor Calum have soulmates tattoos. (Apparently.)

November 20th, 2013

Michael wakes up in his bed with a hangover and a tight sting on his left upper arm. Before he even opens his eyes, he cycles through all five stages of grief. He’s not sure he’s properly landed on acceptance when curiosity gets the best of him, and he looks.

To The Moon.

Oh. Wait a minute.

That’s not a soulmate tattoo. That’s a genuine, god’s-honest tattoo that he’d gotten last night. It had been a slightly drunken (okay, very wasted) decision, encouraged by Calum, but looking at it in this light, he doesn’t regret it. And — he squints. Just underneath it, approximately the dimensions of his thumb, is a string of numbers. Michael stares at 250196 for many minutes, but his hungover brain feels fuzzy and bewildered. He doesn’t remember getting that one, but it’s not a long shot to assume it had been part of last night’s shenanigans. Michael remembers him and Calum stumbling into the tattoo parlor, giggling far too loudly for a tattoo shop at 11pm. It’s not like Michael has ever planned anything in advance, ever. Get a bunch of random numbers tattooed on him; why not?

He scrambles blindly for his phone. Checks the time: 1:10 in the afternoon. Nice day of sleep, then. Pretty good start to his eighteenth birthday.

He calls Calum.

“Morning,” Calum says when he picks up. “Happy birthday.”

“Hi,” Michael says, and at that exact moment he realizes what the numbers are. “Oh my God, you’re such an arse. Did you seriously make me get your birthday tattooed on me? The night before my birthday?”

“What? No,” Calum says, but he doesn’t sound very certain.

“Well, I wouldn’t have done it on my own,” Michael says. The unspoken I wouldn’t have done it if you hadn’t asked me to floats away. “I can’t believe you. I mean, I know we were wasted, but…I can’t believe I let you convince me, honestly.”

“I didn’t!” Calum protests. “...I think. Gotta admit, I was…very drunk.”

“Me too,” Michael says mournfully. “Out of childhood with a bang.”

“I think your childhood ended long ago,” Calum says.

“Your mum’s did,” Michael says, nonsensically. “Fuck, my head hurts.”

“I thought you were getting To The Moon,” Calum says.

“I did. It’s here. And underneath it, your birthday. 250196.”

“That’s my birthday,” Calum agrees, as if Michael doesn’t know that. “Well, listen, it sounds to me like a blessing in disguise. Now I'll always be with you.”

“That's the opposite of what I want. I wish you'd leave me alone," Michael says. “I’ll get you back for this. I was already commemorating our friendship with to the moon. Why would I want your birthday on me?"

“'Cause I'm your favorite," Calum says.

Michael doesn’t answer, because it’s true enough. Not that Michael would choose to have anyone’s birthday tattooed on him, but if he had to choose, he’d choose Calum. He’ll always choose Calum.

“So,” Calum says, as if about to ask about the weather. Michael knows Calum’s nervous voice, though, and this is it. “Uh, got anything else new, then?”

Michael bites his lip. “I haven’t checked. Only just woke up.”

“Oh. That’s cool. Let me know if — when you find yours.”

“I’ll call you back,” Michael says, and hangs up. He sits in bed for too long, staring at his palms, thinking about how he doesn’t need any more tattoos. He got To The Moon, and he’s got Calum’s birthday, which, admittedly, is a weird thing for drunk Calum to convince him to get. But fair enough as a prank, he supposes; maybe he’ll make Calum get Michael’s birthday on him, as payback, on Calum’s eighteenth.

Finally, he gets out of bed and goes to the bathroom. He stares at himself in the mirror. The bathroom lights are blinding, achingly bright. The hangover is killing him. He strips down to his underwear and slowly does an inch-by-inch scan of his entire body. Three times.

There’s nothing. The knot that had built itself up in Michael’s stomach unravels, and Michael realizes he hadn’t been nervous that there wouldn’t be a soulmate tattoo; he’d been nervous that there would be.

And there’s not.

He calls Calum back.

“There’s — I don’t have one,” he says.

Calum is quiet. “What do you mean, you don’t have one? Everyone gets one.”

“Well, I haven’t,” Michael says. Hearing Calum’s voice, he can’t stop smiling.

“How is that possible?” Calum says. “Check again.”

“Calum, I checked like nine times. I haven’t got a soulmate tattoo.” He pauses. “I didn’t want one anyway.”

“You didn’t want one?”

Michael shakes his head. “Nope,” he says. “Fuck soulmates. I’ve already got you, haven’t I? It’s not like I need anyone else to cuddle or spend all my time with. They’d probably just be jealous.”

Calum laughs uneasily. “If you say so.”

“I do,” Michael says firmly. “Not everyone has a soulmate tattoo, not like anything's wrong. I don’t need some ink to tell me what’s important. I’ve got everything I need.”

“Wow,” Calum says. “Being eighteen has truly made you wise.”

“It sure has,” Michael says. “Do you wanna get Maccas and play Fifa?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be at the coffee shop?”

“Ah, Luke’ll cover me,” Michael says. He’ll do it for Luke’s birthday on the condition that Luke does it for his; that’s the agreement.

“In that case, I would love to,” Calum says.

January 25th, 2014

Michael wakes up in Calum’s bed. For one very brief, baffling second, he thinks, did Calum and I have sex?, but no, he’s fully clothed and definitely hasn’t had sex recently. So just good old-fashioned sleeping together, then.

“Morning,” Calum says from the general direction of the doorway. Michael twists himself around and immediately regrets it; his head is pounding.

“Fuck me,” he mumbles.

“You should be so lucky,” Calum says. “Hungover?” Michael nods, squinting. Calum comes over, Tylenol in one hand and a glass of water in the other. “Me too.”

“I fucking love you,” Michael says, and downs the Tylenol and water. “Happy birthday.”

“Yeah, about that,” Calum says, crossing his arms. “I know you said you were going to get me back, but I didn’t think you meant it like this.”

“Like what?”

Calum shakes his head. He’s got the ghost of a smile on his face, but he’s clearly trying very hard to hide it. “Mate, we have to stop drinking so much and blacking out.”

“I dunno,” Michael says. “I kinda like the mystery. It’s like, who was that Michael? What was he thinking? I’ll never know.”

“Mike, you don't even know what you're thinking when you're sober.”

“Hey, shut up. I think at least three things a day.”

“Not including wanking.”

“...I think at least one thing a day.”

“Thought so.” Calum tugs the collar of his t-shirt down, and Michael’s breath catches when he sees Calum’s new tattoo. It says MMXII across his collarbone, in big, blocky Roman numerals.

“Oh, it looks sick,” Michael says.

Calum raises his eyebrows and pulls it down a little further. Michael has to squint, because he’s not wearing his glasses.

“I can’t see that,” he confesses. Calum huffs and comes closer.

201195.

“You got my birthday tattooed on you?” Michael says. Calum stares at him. Michael connects the dots. “Oh my God. I so don’t remember last night at all. That’s incredible. I have nothing but respect for blackout-drunk Michael. He clearly knew what he was doing.”

“You know I’m going to have this forever, right?” Calum says, but despite his best efforts, he doesn’t sound mad, not even a little. “We’re both stuck with each others’ birthdays tattooed on each other forever. Because we’re drunk little shits.”

Michael shrugs. “Could be much worse,” he says. “You could’ve gotten it on your dick.”

Calum snorts.

“And, uh.” Michael swallows. “Nothing else? Apart from the two that you, like, actually went and got?”

Calum watches Michael, and Michael hates how unreadable his expression is. “Nope,” he finally says. “I checked. It’s just those.”

Michael feels badly for feeling so relieved. “I’m sorry,” he lies.

“No, I — I’m actually fine with it,” Calum says. “I mean, it’s like you said, right? Don’t need any new people in my life. I’m pretty happy where I am.”

Michael grins at him. He hadn’t realized how scared he’d been to learn about Calum’s new soulmate until finding out that Calum doesn’t have one. Maybe it’s selfish, but Michael is selfish. He wants Calum all to himself. He doesn’t want a soulmate. He doesn’t want Calum to have one. He just wants it to be MichaelandCalum forever.

“Nice,” he says. He looks up at Calum and his smile grows. “You learned from the wisest. Well, happy birthday. What do you want to do?”

“Sleep off this hangover,” Calum says honestly. Michael spreads his arms across the bed.

“Join me,” he says. Calum rolls his eyes.

“That’s my bed, you loser.”

“So that’s a no?”

Calum climbs into the bed and curls himself into Michael’s side. “Never said that,” he mumbles. “G’night.”

It’s nearly 11am, but they both fall asleep, secure and warm. Michael feels safer than he’s ever felt.

March 8th, 2014

“I just don’t understand how you can be so relaxed about it,” Luke says, absently strumming variations on the A chord.

“It’s literally the simplest thing in the world,” Michael says. “I don’t have a soulmate tattoo. Move on.”

“Yeah, but neither you nor Calum? And you’re not, like, a little bit curious about why not?” Luke presses.

“Leave him alone, Luke,” Ashton says, twirling a drumstick. “He’s obviously soulmates with someone he hates, and he just doesn’t want to say. Probably Ben or Jack.”

Luke gags. Michael reaches for something to throw at Ashton, but all he’s got is a guitar pick, so he throws that. Ashton catches it and starts tapping the snare drum with it.

“I just don’t really care,” Michael says, in response to Luke’s question. “Like. I don’t know. I don’t feel like having anyone else in my life would make it better at this point. I’ve got Cal, and I’ve got you guys — the band — and my family…” He shrugs. It makes undeniable sense to him; he’s happy where he is. If it ain’t broke, right?

Luke sighs. “I could never be like that. I’d be dying to know who my soulmate is.”

“Yeah, because you’re clingy as hell.”

“Oh, that’s rich coming from you.”

“I’m not clingy!”

“I’ll just ask Calum when he gets here, then,” Luke says.

“Okay, fine. I’m a little clingy, but so are you,” Michael says. “At least I’m not harping on not having a soulmate tattoo. You haven’t even got yours yet and you’re obsessed with it.”

Luke sticks his tongue out. “I’m allowed to be curious,” he says. “Ash, aren’t you curious whose yours is?”

Ashton jolts when Luke addresses him. The pick drops from his hand onto the batter head of the snare. “Um, I dunno. Yeah. But, like, whoever it is, I’ll find them in due course. Might not even have gotten their tattoo yet, so I’m trying to take it easy, not worry.”

Michael casts a strange sideways glance at Ashton, who’s bouncing his leg up and down. Nervous. He looks at Luke, then looks back at Ashton.

“Wonder what yours will be,” Luke says, leaning over his guitar and twisting his fingers. “Like, what matches the moon?”

“The sun?” Ashton offers. “The tide?”

Luke nods like he’s deep in thought. “Sun would be nice,” he mumbles, as if talking to himself.

Michael wishes Calum were here. If Luke isn’t Ashton’s soulmate, he’s quitting the band and the coffee shop and taking Cal with him.

July 23rd, 2014 - 12:16 a.m.

“Hello?”

“Mike.” It’s Luke. He sounds nervous. No, he sounds scared. Michael can deal with nervous Luke while playing Portal, but not scared Luke. He pauses the game. Chats from Calum appear on the screen, but he ignores them for the moment.

“Hey,” he says gently. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Luke says, which is clearly a lie. “I’m just — it’s my eighteenth.”

“Oh, holy shit,” Michael says. Obviously he’d known that, and had remembered up until about two hours ago, when he’d started playing Portal with Calum and all thoughts had exited his mind. “Did you get your tattoo? Do you have one?”

“Yeah,” Luke says. “It’s, uh. It’s the sun.”

“The sun?” Michael repeats. “That’s a bit random.”

“Yeah, but,” Luke says, sounding desperate, “it’s the sun right on my forearm — looks exactly like —”

Oh. Michael knows. “Oh,” he says softly. “Holy fuck.”

“It can’t be him, right?” Luke says. “Like. There’s no way. The odds…”

“Well, that’s sort of the point of soulmates, isn’t it?” Michael points out. “Like, yeah, in a normal situation it would be a crazy coincidence, but soulmates aren’t supposed to be normal situations.”

Luke is silent for a long time.

“Luke?” Michael prompts after the quiet gets unbearable. “Do you want it to be him?”

“Yes,” Luke says, in the smallest voice ever. “So badly.”

Michael can’t help it; his heart skips a beat, and it’s not even his own love story. “Well, if you want it to be Ash and you’ve already got the sun where he’s got the moon, that sure does sound like it’s him.”

Luke exhales so hard it crackles on the phone. “No way.”

“If it helps,” Michael says, “I’m pretty sure Ashton’s been hoping you’re his soulmate since he met you.”

“You’re just saying that,” Luke says, but Michael’s not; he’s not blind. He can see the way Ashton looks at Luke like he’s a fucking planet, and Ashton’s content to just orbit. He’s heard some of the stuff Ashton writes and never presents to the band as a whole. If Michael had a nickel for every time Ashton mentioned blond hair and blue eyes in his lyrics, he’d have enough money to kick Ashton from the band and hire a better drummer who wasn’t constantly pining after their lead singer. He’d have enough money to quit the coffee shop and take Calum from the record shop and skip town completely.

“Call him,” Michael advises. “And leave me alone so I can finish playing Portal with Calum.”

“You could’ve done that while talking to me,” Luke says.

“And yet I paused it, just to take your call, because I’m just that nice and lovable,” Michael says. “Now fuck off.”

“Not so nice and lovable now,” Luke mutters.

Michael hangs up on him and unpauses the game.

January, 2015

Michael hasn’t done the research.

He doesn’t care. Or he does his level best pretending he doesn’t care. For a little while between his eighteenth birthday and Calum’s, he’d mostly been lying when he’d told people he didn’t care, but as soon as Calum had turned eighteen with no soulmate tattoo in sight, Michael had realized he actually doesn’t care.

And he doesn’t want to know what it means, not to have a soulmate tattoo. If Michael has to pioneer the movement of normalizing being tattoo-free, then so be it. He and Calum will be the frontmen. Besides, it’s not like anyone needs to know. It’s not like anyone should care.

Some people do care, though. Some people are invasive coffee shop customers who think they have the right to ask after Michael’s soulmate tattoo like it’s the sort of casual conversation you instigate while ordering a vanilla latte. Some people are wrong.

“Oh, I like your tattoo,” is what this woman says. She looks to be middle-aged, or maybe mid-sixties, and she’s talking about To The Moon, Michael reckons. Then the lady says: “Is it your soulmate one?”

Michael bites back a rude comment. “No,” he says.

“What’s your soulmate one look like?” the lady asks. Like she would have any right to know if Michael had one. Michael hates his day job.

He glances over at Luke, who’s halfway through making the latte, and grimaces, a desperate plea to be rescued from this conversation. He should have just lied and said To The Moon was his soulmate tattoo. But he’s sick of talking about it at all. And who’s this lady anyway, thinking she can just march in here, order a coffee, and then ask Michael about his soulmate tattoo like they’re acquainted?

Luke steps over. “Hi, ma’am, sorry, Mike’s much better with vanilla lattes than I am, you’ll want him on that,” he says. That’s a straight lie, but Michael gratefully slides away and goes to finish the latte. “Was there something else we can get for you?”

“Oh, I just wondered about your soulmate tattoos,” the woman says. “It’s just been a long time since I’ve seen people who have them so fresh, and — oh, I don’t know. I wondered.”

“Well, I can tell you I’ve got mine,” Luke says, and proudly displays the sun tattoo on his forearm. “My soulmate and I are together going on six months.”

“How lovely!” the lady squeals. “The sun, that’s beautiful. What does she have?”

“He,” Luke corrects uncomfortably, “has the moon.”

Michael tunes them out and finishes the latte. He puts less vanilla than he should, but the woman deserves something a little more bitter. Maybe it’ll wake her from whatever dreamland she’s in where nosy questions about personal topics are considered fair game.

At least Calum lets him complain. Michael’s been bitching about the old lady for about twenty minutes, but Calum, ever the patient and loyal best friend, has let him carry on.

“I just don’t get why everyone is so obsessed with knowing,” Michael finishes, and sighs deeply, feeling the weight lift from his chest. “God, I’m tired.”

“You just talked for nearly half an hour,” Calum points out.

“And I could go longer!” Michael says. “I’m irritated, Cal. Maybe I’ll ask the manager to blacklist her from the store.”

“Complaining will get you nowhere,” Calum reminds him. “And it sounds like she wasn’t trying to be invasive. Old people are just like that.”

“But she was,” Michael whines. He falls finally onto the couch, where Calum has sat watching him pace since he got home, and cuddles into Calum’s side. “See if I make her coffee again. I’ll throw a diva fit.”

“You do that every day, anyway. You threw a diva fit when I asked if your shampoo was two-in-one shampoo and conditioner.”

“Because who uses two-in-one, Cal? Animals, that’s who.”

“See? Diva.”

“Well, if she comes back, I’ll just bitch at her about shampoo and conditioner until she gives up and goes someplace else.”

“Just pretend you’ve become violently ill,” Calum suggests. “Or that you’ve gotten a very urgent call.”

“I’m awful at pretending I have calls,” Michael says. Calum starts carding through Michael’s hair. Michael knows it’s a trick to calm him down, and he hates that it’s working. Calum’s gentle, methodical gestures are soothing.

“Then just text me, and I’ll ring you, and I’ll make up a horrible emergency,” Calum says.

Michael sighs. “That’s why you’re my favorite, Cal.”

Calum brings his free hand up to pat Michael’s cheek. His hand is warm and soft and the touch feels familiar. “No problem. It’s what I’m here for.”

“To get me out of talking to annoying customers?”

Calum leans his head on Michael’s and presses a light kiss to his head. “Yup.”

“Can’t wait for our band to be famous so I can quit,” Michael mumbles. Calum laughs.

Michael closes his eyes. Calum is safe and comfortable, and it’s been a long day. He falls asleep, breathing in sync with the rise and fall of Calum’s chest.

four years and three albums later

It’s been a surprisingly long time since Michael’s been back down this street, since he’s seen this strip mall. Touring practically non-stop will do that to a person. Almost every shop he remembers being here has been replaced. Michael wishes Calum were here to do this walk with him, but Calum is a little bitch who’s been dragged into the studio for writing. Michael’s weaseled his way out of it. He loves to write, but he can do it outside of a studio, and he’s really not in the mood, today.

He wanders down the strip mall, listening to Good Charlotte to truly get himself back in his old emo mindset. Almost this entire strip mall is unfamiliar to him, except one store. Michael stops in front of it, scoffs, laughs, and walks in, tugging his headphones off his head.

The guy at the counter seems to recognize him. “Hey, it’s you!” he says enthusiastically, with a heavy Irish accent.

Michael grins, confused. “Me,” he says, as if that will clear anything up.

“Oh, sorry,” the tattoo artist says. “I just — I did your tattoo back in, what was it, 2014? And your mate’s as well.”

“Calum?” Michael asks. The guy snaps his fingers.

“That’s him. I keep seeing you guys on the TV now,” the guy says. Michael feels badly for not knowing his name. “Seems like you’ve made quite a name for yourself, eh? I always want to brag, you know, ‘I did his first tattoo.’ But I don’t name-drop. Feels cheap.”

“You can name-drop,” Michael says, thrilled that his name is even the kind of name anyone could name-drop. “I’m surprised you remember us coming here, that was a while ago. I’m really sorry, I don’t think I got your name…?”

The guy laughs. “Makes sense, you were pissed off your arses both times. I’m Niall.”

“Michael,” Michael says. “Although I reckon you know that.”

Niall nods. “I’m not likely to forget the times you came in anytime soon,” he adds. “First time I ever saw soulmate tattoos appear while I was in the middle of giving someone a tattoo.”

Michael’s heart stops.

“What?” he says, dimly.

Niall, unaware that he’s just said something groundbreaking and totally insane, carries on. “Oh, you know, the numbers. Birthdays, I think you said they were. You got his and he got yours, right? They just showed up, smack at midnight. Both times. Never seen it happen before.”

Michael can’t breathe.

“I,” he says, but fails to find words enough to finish that sentence.

“How’s the one I gave you holding up?” Niall continues. “I could take a look, if you like.”

“No,” Michael says. He feels dizzy. “Sorry, I…I actually have to run, I forgot — I’ve got to…” He shakes his head. “The birthday tattoo I have, I…I thought that came from here. I thought you did that.”

Niall frowns. “No, mate. That one just appeared. For your pal, as well. I was in the middle of doing the numerals when your birthday just, bam. Threw me for a loop.”

Michael trips backwards and steadies himself. “Okay,” he says, although he feels like he’s suffocating. “Well, um, I better run to my thing that I have — see you. Thanks.”

He all but races out of the tattoo parlor and doesn’t stop until he’s away from the strip mall. Then he leans against a stop sign.

Okay. This isn’t possible. It’s been — it’s been, what, three? Four years? Michael’s never had a soulmate. He’s okay with that. He’s never wanted one. He’s always been just fine, just him and Calum, and neither of them having —

Michael blinks and thinks about what Niall has said.

“Holy fuck,” he murmurs. He yanks his sleeve up and looks at his tattoo of Calum’s birthday again. “Holy shit.”

He pushes himself to his feet and starts purposefully making his way to his parents’ house, shooting off a text as he does:

michael: come to mine after studio. wanna talk to you

Calum has a key, so he lets himself in.

“Hey, Mikey,” he says. “What’s up?”

Michael has been playing guitar for the past two hours, or trying to, but his hands are still shaking too much. He sets it aside when Calum comes in.

“How was the studio?” Michael asks nonchalantly, like this is a normal day, and everything is fine.

Calum frowns. “You’re acting weird. You only texted me once. What’s going on?”

“Texting you once isn’t weird,” Michael says.

“Michael, have you met you? I’ve received one-word answers from you in more than one text.” Calum crosses his arms. “Why are you being weird?”

“We’re soulmates,” Michael blurts out.

Calum raises his eyebrows. “That’s impossible, given neither of us have soulmate tattoos, Mike.”

“Really? How’d you get my birthday on you, then?” Michael challenges.

“From when we got drunk on my eighteenth, you idiot, same as how you got mine on you.”

“Yeah? Cal, do you actually remember getting that tattoo? Hell, did we pay for these ones?” He stands up finally and shifts on his feet. “You asked to get 2012. Do you remember that?”

“Obviously, yes.”

“And do you remember asking to get my birthday?”

Calum stares at him. “No,” he finally says.

“I think we’ve been colossally idiotic,” Michael says. “I never asked to get your birthday tattooed on me. We were just too drunk to remember.”

“Oh my God,” Calum says. “Holy shit.” And then he laughs, like it’s funny.

“Don’t laugh,” Michael says. “This isn’t funny, it’s absolutely mad.”

“Yes,” Calum agrees, still smiling. “Absolutely fucking insane. We are the dumbest people on the entire planet. I’m in love with you, Michael.”

Michael’s heart stops beating. “What?”

“I’m not sure I knew,” Calum says. “But I definitely am. I — it’s only you for me. You’re it. I didn’t want any other soulmate.”

“Me neither,” Michael breathes. “You’re it for me.” His face feels hot. “Oh, holy shit. I’m in love with you.”

“Welcome to the party,” Calum says.

Michael’s run out of things to say, so he kisses Calum.

It doesn’t feel like the huge revelation Michael might have expected. It just feels…right. In fact, it feels obvious. Like for years he’s been working to solve a math problem, and now he’s finally realized it’d been exactly what he’d thought. It’s Calum. Of course it’s Calum. Who else could it have been? Who else could it ever possibly be? Everything he’s ever felt about Calum has been love, even when it had been anger or hurt or confusion. He loves Calum, is in love with Calum, and always has been.

Calum doesn’t hesitate to kiss Michael back, cupping Michael’s jaw as if anchoring him to the kiss. He tilts his head, fixing the angle, and they fit so perfectly that Michael wonders why they’ve never thought to do this before. He tugs on the front of Calum’s t-shirt, pulling him closer, and wraps his arms around Calum’s waist, and it feels so natural, and so easy, to just kiss Calum like it’s what he was made to do. Calum licks at Michael’s lower lip and Michael’s intoxicated by the way it feels, Calum’s tongue in his mouth, Calum’s hands threaded in his hair, Calum under his palms, Calum, Calum, Calum. He makes a noise that’s half-groan and half-sigh, and feels Calum smiling against his lips. He pulls away. Michael feels dizzy.

“Fuck,” he whispers. “I really like kissing you.”

“Good, ‘cause there’s going to be a lot more of it,” Calum says.

Michael leans his forehead against Calum’s. “You taste of Vegemite.”

“There were snacks at the studio,” Calum says.

“Did you save me any?”

“Any Vegemite chocolate scrolls?” Calum leans back and raises his eyebrows. “Dream on.”

“That’s rude,” Michael complains. “I’m not sure I’m in love with you anymore. We should break up.”

“We’re not even really dating,” Calum says.

Michael blanches. “Oh. Right. Cal, d’you wanna be my boyfriend?”

“Not if you’re just going to break up with me straight away.” He sticks his tongue out. Michael wants to kiss him again, but he’s still recovering from the first.

“To be honest,” Michael says, “our tattoos are pretty shit compared to Luke and Ashton. They get the sun and the moon, and we just get a bunch of numbers? Birthdays? How uncreative do you get?”

“You’re going to challenge the ineffable power of soulmate tattoos because you think ours aren’t creative?”

“I’m just saying, it might have been nice to get something a little cooler or more symbolic.”

“I don’t know,” Calum says. “I like having your birthday. It makes me feel like you’ve been important to me since birth. And like I’ve always got a piece of you with me. The sun could be anyone, but this day is yours.”

“And Joe Biden’s,” Michael says.

“God, you ruin every moment, don’t you?”

“I share a birthday with Joe Biden!” Calum glares at him. “Okay, yes, that was really cheesy and adorable,” Michael concedes. “I like your birthday on me, as well. For the same reason.”

Calum grins. “For real, Mikey. Can we, like. Do this?” He gestures between the two of them, as if whatever this is will become automatically clear. Michael’s not sure what it is, or what it even should be. They’re best friends turned soulmates turned…what? “Be boyfriends and all?”

Oh. Well. That’s simple enough. “Yeah,” Michael says. “I’m not marrying you until I get a prenup, though. Gotta have that money.”

“God, can I break up with you yet?” Calum mutters.

“Nope, there’s a five minute wait time, and I just broke up with you like one minute ago.”

“We weren’t dating when you broke up with me then, though.”

“Well, I still did it, so you have to wait.”

“Fine,” Calum says. “I have an idea for what we can do in the meantime.”

It’s a pretty good idea, Michael decides when Calum kisses him for the second time. “Could kiss you forever,” he mumbles against Calum’s lips.

“Not if I break up with you,” Calum says. Michael pulls away, appalled.

“Oh my God, now you ruined the moment! You’re such a hypocrite!”

Calum doesn’t stop laughing for awhile, but it’s fine. Calum’s laugh is Michael’s favorite sound.

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