#prompt by the wonderful bamboo thank you again and happy birthday!!

[misha-moose-dean-burger-lover]

happy birthday, @irrlicht-ghostfront ❤️ i love you, and i'm judging you for this being your prompt, but i love you some more, so here <33 (warnings: car accident) [NO MCD]

It wasn't supposed to be this way.

Blink and a miss — accident — wrecked car, and fleeting on the painful side of barely conscious in a pool of his own blood. There was too much of it anyway. Castiel felt dizzy more than he felt the pain as time, almost tangibly, passed on.

There's no way he was going to live.

(It was supposed to end old — fingers crossed for painless. Featuring inevitably beeping monitors, and time to come up with last words. A goodbye to his family.

Not that he had much of one right now — he isn't sure if he can call Dean's family his, yet; Dean seems to insist on it but then he's always been a pioneer in giving Castiel more than he could ever deserve, starting with his own heart, so Castiel can't tell — but he'd finally started to have intentions to, in the future.

A dog, for Dean.

Children.

Intentions to beg his brother to come back, and not give up until he'd gotten his forgiveness and his only remaining family back. But that — well, it was a different alley than Castiel's thoughts swarmed to right now. And swarm they did, his head throbbing, and life thudding at its gates.

Castiel had also intended to marry Dean, misty-eyed and denying it. Intended to figure out flower arrangements, and guest seating. Intended to kiss him at the end of the aisle, with his hands cupping Dean's face, and Dean's around his waist.

Then, move out from their shared apartment into a house.

Yellow wallpapered bedroom.

Treasure, and keep Dean happy forever.

Fuck.)

His breathing is still ragged, and his head feels too empty, but the heaving has lessened. Probably the blood loss. Less pain, more haze. And the resultant thoughtlessness is perhaps the only thing that sparks the courage in him to do what he does next.

Castiel picks up his phone.

(A struggle, but he's determined.)

If he's dying, and he'll never get to live the life he'd finally started to dream of — never have a life to share with Dean, never get to see Dean again, then he'll take what he can get.

He's allowed this, he tells himself. Allowed to be selfish, one last time.

He's on his deathbed after all.

It's outstandingly painful to bend his neck enough to see he's picked the right number — but the mere idea of accidentally calling an acquaintance at a time like this brings a tensed sliver of life into his muscles, and straining, he looks. Right enough, he's got 'Dean :)' on the screen.

Pressing dial, he lets his head fall back on the seat, wincing again. Maybe that'll relent the floatiness, if his body circulates some goddamn blood into his brain — because he needs this.

He's dying, but he needs this. One last time, he needs Dean.

A thumb swipes the familiarly placed 'on speaker' button — he can't bring the phone to his ear right now. He's going to have to risk Dean hearing the still crackling ruins of the poor engine, strewn across the wreck in smoldering pieces.

He must make quite a sight, he thinks, waiting for the call to go through. Man found in car wreckage, trapped by the door, dead within —

"Cas?"

Dean's voice cuts through Castiel's morbid mental news report, and almost reflexively, he closes his eyes. There's a tangible relief in his head when he does it, and god, Castiel must've been doing worse than he's convinced himself he is.

Dean sounds beautiful as always, and so familiar its like home.

It's the last time he ever gets to have this.

"Hello, Dean." Maybe he manages to not sound weird, or Dean's just not listening for clues. The loud racket behind him, at Bobby (and Dean's) automobile shop, helps as well.

"Hey." There's a smile in his voice now. Fuck. He's smiling. He's smiling, and he's smiling at Cas, and it's the last time Castiel ever gets to hear it.

He loses himself trying to remember the last time he saw Dean smile — earlier this morning, kissing him goodbye before he left — no, down from their balcony, accompanied by a gleeful wave because Dean's shift started a couple hours after Cas's day in the office did — no, when Castiel checked the time, and the Dean on his lockscreen grinned up at him — and he doesn't realize he's fallen silent until Dean's speaking again.

"Babe, you okay?"

There's a tinge of worry. Only a smidge, and it still hurts. The last time Castiel hears Dean can't be laced with anything bad. And it can't be Castiel's fault.

There's a pause. "Cas, what's up?"

Castiel doesn't know what to say so he tries to hold on to the phone tighter, his throat fluttering as a tear rolls down his face.

"Wait," The worry dissipates, apology slipping in. "Am I forgetting something? Did we make plans for lunch, 'cause Bobby and —"

"N-no." Cas struggles, and it's getting harder to not pant. He sounds too breathy anyway. "We don't. Didn't."

He forces a smile into his voice while saying it. As if it doesn't break him that he'll never get to see Dean again. But he needs to smile, doesn't he? One last time. Just for Dean.

"Well, do you want to?" Dean sounds cheerful. Normal.

Perfect.

Castiel doesn't want to die.

"Not, today." He half-heaves, and another tear rolls down his face.

Not today.

(If he'd known, he'd have stared to his heart's fill this morning. Kissed him an hour longer. Held him in his sleep. Oh, if he had had any foresight at all.)

"Dickface-atron keeping ya busy?"

Castiel lets the air stuck in his chest out, and it probably makes up for a small chuckle. He doesn't want to lie, he just won't agree.

"Figures."

"Sorry." Castiel tells him, meaning it entirely.

"Nah, s'good. I love you." Dean adds, clearly smiling wider, because they've only recently added that to their vernacular instead of the pedestal it'd been on for the first eight months of their friendship turning into a relationship. Somehow, it feels grander though — or, that might also be because it's the last time Castiel ever gets to hear Dean say it to him.

Oh, he loves him so much.

(He doesn't want to die.)

"And I have my packed lunch anyway." Dean continues, filling the gap thankfully. Machines blare in his background and he braves on like a man used to not being able to hear his own words due to the racket. Castiel is grateful for it. He hangs onto every word, drinks it in. Makes himself hold on. "Pretty sure you'd kick me to the curb if I let a PBJ go to waste."

"Jelly?" Cas smiles, when he wants to sob. He's certain he sounds fainter too, he feels fainter, and it's a miracle it doesn't show.

The tears well up in his chest, for possibly the rest of time. Dead men don't cry, and Castiel can't.

(Can't be long now, can it?)

"Jelly." Dean confirms. "It's the curse of paying attention when you rant about jam, you know." He snickers. "I used to be normal."

"Yes, I'm very lucky."

Dean chuckles, and Castiel sighs.

He's yearned for Dean to be happy, tried to make him smile, longed to see him laugh, for so, so long it feels like a part of him now. And now, it goes back to Dean, without him.

Somebody else'll make him smile, somebody else will wake him up with a kiss on his temple, and somebody else will love Dean for exactly who he is because it's Dean, and there was never someone who deserved it more — so of course somebody will.

But it will never be him again.)

An untethered broken sound escapes his throat, and Cas winces, faking a cough with it.

That makes the blood gush.

"Oh, also — wait. Just a second." He interrupts himself, and probably covers the speaker with his palm before yelling blurrily to someone near him.

(Or perhaps it's not supposed to be blurry. Castiel wouldn't know. He can hardly make out his own breathing. It's a feat that he can make out the conversation, even if most of it is instinct memory, and all he's doing is holding onto Dean for as long as he can.

Somehow, it feels like he's been doing so forever. But the time left, had never been so little.)

When Dean returns, he sounds apologetically busy.

"Dude, that dick who yelled at Ash, remember? He's back. Garth went this time, 'cause douchebag brought a Sedan."

Castiel swallows again, and vaguely registers that it tastes like metal. Almost like there's blood mixed with saliva.

There's another morbid thought. What, in this wreck, is finally going to kill him?

"I should probably check on him. Garth sorta wears on you."

"Of course." He croaks, and slips — fuck, he slips — but for once, thank god for oversensitive customers and boyfriends with likeable personalities, because Dean's conversing off the phone again, his hand on the speaker.

"I'll call you back, babe." Dean comes back to add in a rush, and Cas sucks in a painful breath, slowly beginning to feel like the only thing keeping him conscious any more is the sensation of air in his lungs, in his mouth, in the back of his throat. "Still have to ask what you even called about, you know. Or maybe if you just missed me." He beams, he obviously beams, and Cas stifles a groan.

"I do." He wheezes. "I —"

"Me too." Dean returns, flirty, and Cas goes to add to it — because he has to, because he's not going to make it, he's not going to be able to hold on until Dean returns, and he has to — but there's a click.

Castiel stares at the screen, devastated.

(Or tries to, anyway.)

"I love you," He cries out, aware that the line's cut, but needing to hear himself say it anyway. Plus, his head feels too numb to keep words inside anymore. It's less a prison of thoughts, and more a canyon of loss.

More tears fall.

His heart is beating faster than it ever has.

"I love —" His voice trembles, tries again, and fails. His throat refuses to comply with the thousands of things there remain to be said, and the words slowly fade, neglected.

In more ways than one, it's like being administered anaesthesia before a surgery — Castiel was operated on for tonsils at age eleven, and he remembers it still — and it finally sinking in, and knocking you out, as the doctor says to count to ten, and you hardly graze six.

His hands clutch the phone tighter, neck rendering him incapable of looking anymore, so he has no idea what his thumbs are trying to type — but it doesn't matter, not really, because this is it. Completely alone, young, and desperately in love with Dean Winchester, Castiel closes his eyes for the very last time.

And everything fades to black.

*

When they find him, it's been at least four hours.

It's night.

The uniformed official stuck with the responsibility of calling the next of kin, Victor Henriksen, fishes out the wallet as the paramedics carry him into the ambulance and attach him to IV immediately, and steps away to dial his emergency contact with a crinkled brow of sympathy.

And as he waits for the guy, a Dean Winchester, to pick up, he can't help but notice that his number is exactly the same as the one the last text almost sent from the victim's phone had been typed to — clutched in his hand, an unnerving, 'I love'.

And well, he isn't particularly into romcoms, but he hopes the poor guy gets a chance to finish his sentence.

He was in pretty bad condition, Henriksen recalls, and the bloodloss had knocked him out for several hours, but he looked twenty five at most, more importantly healthy, and — he looks at the wallet again, and the picture of two men (one of them, the victim) smiling at the camera with their hands around each other — most importantly, seemed to have reasons to fight for.

(Plus, he'd been the one to call the accident in himself — albeit four hours after it happened, but Henriksen figured he'd been passed out for that long — so he had to want to live, right?)

"Hello. Dean Winchester, who's this?"

"Hello, sir, I'm Officer Henriksen, and I have you listed as Mr Castiel Novak's emergency..."

*

"You dick."

Castiel coughs, and gives up on squinting against the bright light. It's a LED. Like in hospitals.

"Jesus, Cas. You complete asshole, you —"

Castiel opens his eyes a sliver again. The walls do resemble a hospital. Plain, white tiled. Way too many AC vents. Is that something on his hand?

"So you'll open your goddamn eyes, and not even fucking look at me."

There's IV's on both his hands. And something stiff around his neck. Almost like a collar, but thicker. And when he breathes, his ribs start like they might hurt — but the pain is numbed as it registers. He must be running really high on painkillers; they never really worked for him.

"Fine. You don't gotta look at me." A pause. Then, more shaky. "I was so scared, Cas. So fucking terrified. They said they weren't sure, said it may be too late, and you were dying. And then they tell me the crash happened at three, and I feel like I'm going to have a fucking stroke."

His vision slowly unblurs, feeling returning to his fingers. He tries to fold them, and winces at the strain.

Immediately, there's a hand on his arm.

"Stop moving, dumbass. I'm going to kill you for this, you know. I am, but I need you to be okay first."

The words don't register, but the voice does.

(He sounds beautiful as always, and so familiar it's like home.)

"Hell, I just need you, Cas. Period. I need your ridiculous, stupid ass — and I need you to look at me when I'm begging you to be okay, and I need you to stay, with me, forever, and not call me first when you need a goddamn ambulance, you dumbass —"

"Hello, Dean." Castiel interrupts, a hoarse whisper, and he thinks he hears a sob from the general direction of the love of his life.

(He really can't move his neck — he's got to tell Dean that at some point if he's not understood already. It's the cast.)

"Oh, thank god." Dean cries, the words muffled by either him burying his face in his sleeve, or the lifesaving medications Castiel is alive on account of, but it's okay, right? Dean's here — and he's okay. It's fine.

"I'm sorry."

"I'm still going to kill you for this."

"Well, I'd deserve that." Castiel tries to joke, and almost pulls it off, except for the part where he can't see Dean's reaction until the latter lets out another broken sob, and grabs his hand. Castiel freezes, trying to squeeze back, tears welling up again. "I'm really sorry, Dean." Then, after a beat. "I'm going to make this up to you."

It feels like a strange thing to say, but it's exactly what he means.

"Yeah, you are. Although it can't stop my revenge being not texting you when I have a heart attack in aisle three when I'm eighty and you're buying eggs, but okay."

If Castiel could, he would've shaken his head at that.

(But at least, and this is what really matters — they made it. He's alive. He — he gets this.)

"I love you, you son of a bitch."

Castiel smiles slowly, a tear landing on his pillow. "I love you too."

#destiel #destiel angst #castiel #dean winchester #deancas #cas pov #tw car accident #angst with a happy ending #prompt by the wonderful bamboo thank you again and happy birthday!! #bluefirecas #queenrowena #userpris #tearsofgrace #rambleoncas #oh writing my writing #PLEASE FORGIVE MEDICAL INACCURACIES IF FOUND i am a self professed fool #also please forgive bad writing. i hadn't written in WEEKS when i wrote this #long post

[zaffrenotes]

[TRR x ES] Viewing Party

Book: The Royal Romance & Endless Summer Pairings: Liam x MC (Katrina Bailey), Drake x OC (Alyssa Devereaux), Jake x MC (Laurel) Rating/Warnings: G; mild innuendo Author’s Note: * All main characters belong to Pixelberry, I’m just borrowing them * Katrina Bailey & Laurel are the MCs I use when writing fanfic for TRR and ES, respectively; Alyssa Devereaux belongs to birthday girl @burnsoslow​ * This is my submission for @wackydrabbles​​ Prompt 80: Stop looking at me like that. * Author’s Note 2: * This is a birthday gift for my cheesy, potato loving homegirl Burnsie, who requested her very first Endless Summer/Jake fic, despite having never read any ES fic until now 🙈 for the sole reason being that she and Jake McKenzie are almost birthday twins, and my favorite pilot turns 30 this year. If you’re unfamiliar with canon ES trivia, Jake can hold his breath for 9 minutes, and Estela can hold her breath for an astonishing 14. This isn’t entirely what I had in mind when I set out to write an ES/Jake birthday fic, but I wasn’t about to miss your day because I’ve hit a whole ass writer’s wall, Burnsie! I hope you have an AMAZING day and I’m sending you so many hugs! You’re one of the sweetest ladies here, and I am so very thankful that I can call you a friend 🥰 also my real, real gift to you is coming at a later date, as I still have to work on it 😬 * and yes, that’s DDT in the moodboard - just for Burnsie, again - since I use Barnes as Drake’s FC in my TRR fics, lol * Word Count: 2000 on the dot!

It was nearly 10:00 PM on Friday evening, when Burns arranged things around the comfiest chair in her living room. The rest of her family already retired for the evening, after a small but wonderful birthday celebration in her honor at home. Within easy reach, she’d arranged drinks and snacks next to her laptop - a glass of water, a hot mug of tea, a slice of homemade birthday cake to take care of any sugar cravings, and a small platter of cheese and crackers for something more savory. She grinned softly at the newest addition to her mug collection, watching the steam rise from the contents within. 

The lavender mug arrived in the mail earlier that day from one of her friends, emblazoned with a quote from David Rose. Burns took a sip of the warm beverage before setting it down on the small side table and situated herself in the chair. She flipped open the laptop and pulled up a browser window, smiling at a gift from another friend - there was a sticker next to the trackpad with a drawing of a wedge of Swiss, quoting another memorable line from Schitt’s Creek, reminding her to “fold in the cheese.” Burns glanced to the time on the screen and logged in to her Netflix account, clicking until she arrived at the viewing party, and began typing to join the group chat. 

She was greeted with jubilant messages from Donna, Ella, Brandy, Anitah, and half a dozen other friends, wishing her a happy birthday before the show started. They’d formed an ever-growing viewing party for a new series titled Stranded in the Orchard, which was an odd amalgamation of Survivor and Gilligan’s Island. Taking a cue from reality tv competitions, there were hidden cameras all over the island to monitor everyone and reduce production crew intervention, and in a nod to Hunger Games, there was an omnipresent host that would drop messages to signal when challenges were about to take place. After four episodes, the ladies in the watching party started picking their favorites from the two teams. 

Team Ruby consisted of a group that appeared to have been shipwrecked onto the island. Leo was dubbed The Rogue; his brother Liam was The CEO; Katrina was The Attorney; Alyssa was The Teacher; Drake was The Cowboy; Olivia was The Weapons Expert; Bertrand was The Grump; Madeleine was The Whiner; Maxwell was Bertrand’s brother and The Jester; Hana was The Jill of All Trades. Bertrand and Madeleine had already been voted off when Ruby lost two events. 

Team Catalyst consisted of a group of mostly college students. Jake was The Pilot; Laurel was The Mystery Girl; Sean was The Coach; Michelle was The Doctor, even though she was only pre-med; Craig was The Muscle; Zahra was The Engineer; Aleister was The Slick One; Grace was The Brain; Diego was The Entertainer; Estela was The Huntress. Catalyst lost the last two events, which sent Aleister and Grace packing. 

Everyone settled in to watch the opening credits as they recapped last week’s episode, where Ruby won the immunity challenge and fishing gear by building a makeshift stretcher to rescue and carry Katrina from a jungle crash site to a first aid station on the beach; Catalyst voted Grace out. Burns popped a cheese cube into her mouth as she and her friends watched the two groups deal with day-to-day chores in their respective camps on Day 14 of the show. They chatted about the team members and how much Burns wanted to see Drake take off his shirt to go in the water, despite the knowledge that there were clips of him cuddling with Alyssa; Donna, Ella, and Anitah would keysmash in the group chat any time Liam appeared on the screen, even though he and Katrina were clearly sweet on each other, while Brandy and Alyssa Lauren would ask what was happening or who someone was from the Catalyst team.

—

“Pillows and blankets are nice, but what we could really use is food,” Maxwell said, drawing an octopus in the sand with a piece of driftwood. “I don’t know how much longer I can last on coconuts and rice.” 

“Liam and Drake took the raft out this morning to try fishing with the gear, maybe they’ll get lucky,” Katrina suggested, stirring the pot of rice in the fire. She set the lid on top and stood up from her kimchi squat position, dusting some errant sand off her leg. They both looked out towards the water, as dawn stretched out across the ocean, making out shadowy forms of their friends as they bobbed in the water, just before one of them went under the surface. Behind them, the rest of their friends began to stir awake from the scent of rice cooking. 

Back at the Catalyst camp, Jake sat by the campfire with Estela; they were working on making their own fishing gear from bamboo and camp supplies after losing the previous challenge. Jake fed a length of twine through a handmade fishing pole while Estela sharpened tips on one end of a pile of branches she’d gathered. “Whatcha whittlin’, Katniss?” 

Estela glanced at Jake sideways. “Stakes. Hand over some of that twine, I need it to bind these to make spears.” With a begrudging huff, Jake unfurled the twine and ran it against the edge of the makeshift bench he was sitting on to cut it, before tossing the rest at Estela. 

“How fast can you tie those off? We’re losin’ daylight for a morning catch, if you wanna ride on the raft with me.” 

“Five minutes,” she answered, already working nimbly around a branch to secure the whittled spikes. 

The screen cut back to Ruby’s camp, where Liam and Drake stepped ashore, smiles brighter than the sunrise as Drake held up a fish trap with small rays flapping against one another. 

—

“kjsdhfksjhfksjhfks,” Burns smashed into her keyboard. “Look at my man! With the sea bounty!” 

“mevmnbvmnxb,” Ella smashed back.

“How do you know Drake did all the work? Liam’s just as wet, hahaha,” Donna chortled in response.

—

After killing their catch as humanely as possible - with Alyssa turning her face to Drake’s chest to avoid witnessing it - Leo and Olivia gutted and cleaned the rays before setting them on top of their makeshift grill to cook. Liam and Drake regaled the group with their morning under the water, as they took turns fishing. 

While Team Ruby enjoyed some protein with their rice that morning, members of the Catalyst team glumly spooned rice into their mouths as they sat around the campfire while Jake and Estela dried off; their morning fishing trip had been unsuccessful. 

Later that day, both teams received messages from the host to gather for a reward challenge. Each team made their way to a small lagoon, where they saw a structure floating in the water. A booming voice overhead instructed them to swim out to the structure and await further instructions. Once everyone from both teams had done so, a blue holographic image of the host appeared in the center to explain the rules. “The challenge is simple,” she narrated. “We want to see who can hold their breath the longest. There’s a bar you can use to keep yourself from floating up if you need it. Last one standing earns the prize for the whole team — an overnight trip at the Celestial Hotel, where our rotating film crew goes to rest. You’ll be treated to clean sheets and towels, hot showers, along with a decadent dinner and breakfast menu the next morning, before having to return to your camp.” 

Everyone’s eyes lit up at the incentive of a night away from sleeping on the beach, away from mosquitos, rodents, and the threat of being waterlogged by passing storms. Stomachs gurgled at the thought of hot meals that didn’t consist of rice, and the possibility of cocktails or wine. “Oh, we got this,” Jake murmured quietly to Laurel. “Bet I can hold my breath longer’n any of those Ruby kids.” 

“Is that so?” Leo taunted, overhearing Jake’s comment.

“Just call me Poseidon,” Jake smirked. 

“We’ll see about that,” Leo replied. “You know most of us are from an island, right? We’re basically merpeople.” 

—

“Bets! Bets on who wins this!” Brandy typed into the chat window.

“Sticking with Drake,” Burns typed. “Maybe Hana. She could have another random talent up her sleeve.” 

“My money’s on Liam. Look how broad his chest is,” Anya replied. “He’s got to have massive lungs to match.”

“That makes no sense,” Ella typed, adding a laughing emoji. “But I’m Team Liam anyway.”

“Don’t hate me,” Donna began. “Something tells me Jake isn’t boasting right now.” 

From her screen at home, Alyssa Lauren used Eeny, Meeny, Miny, Moe to choose Zahra. The rest of the group picked their favorites as the castaways donned goggles and got into the water. 

—

“Ready? Set! Go!” 

Sixteen heads dipped under the water’s surface, with contestants pinching their noses and puffing out their cheeks as an underwater camera filmed them. A handful of them - Olivia, Alyssa, Maxwell, Diego, and Michelle - tapped out under a minute. As the sand settled, thirty seconds passed before Katrina, Laurel, Sean, and Drake headed to the surface. Just after the two minute mark, Hana, Craig, and Zahra gave up, leaving Jake, Liam, Estela, and Leo under the water. 

Jake looked positively peaceful, sandy brown hair swaying with ease in the water. Estela tapped her fingers lightly across the bamboo rod, counting each second as it passed. Liam glanced over to his brother, who’d begun to turn pink. Half a minute later, Leo popped up to the surface, muttering to himself out of frustration. 

Three minutes in, Liam surfaced, gasping for air, leaving Jake and Estela to battle it out between themselves. Even though the hologram host blasted a horn to signal the end of the challenge, neither Catalyst member surfaced. Liam ducked down to check on them, and Jake and Estela both signaled that they were fine. Everyone continued to wait as the pair spent minute after minute under the water.

—

“Seriously? They’re on the same team!” Anitah typed. “They won already!” 

“They’ve been underwater for a scary length of time,” Brandy added. “What are they, Navy SEALs or something?” 

“I think Jake mentioned he was actually in the Navy before,” Alyssa Lauren replied. 

—

A digital clock appeared in the corner of the screen as the two Catalyst members continued to hold their breath underwater. With each passing minute, members from both groups began to worry. After eight minutes passed, the host’s voice rang out, advising them to pull Jake and Estela up from the water to end the challenge. Laurel and Craig ducked down, eventually pulling their teammates up. “Congratulations to The Catalysts!” the host exclaimed. “A boat will be waiting at your camp to take you to the hotel.” 

Laurel swatted Jake’s arm as they made their way to the shore. “What’s wrong with you!? You were underwater for nearly ten minutes! Who does that!?” 

Jake looked over his shoulder to her with a grin, mischievous sparkle in his bright blue eyes. “Ten would be a new record, my best is nine.” He leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Imagine nine uninterrupted minutes of me holding my breath, Princess. My birthday is tomorrow, and I know exactly how I wanna celebrate,” he winked.  

Laurel’s cheeks flushed at the suggestion. “Stop looking at me like that, Top Gun.”

—

That evening at the hotel, after a sumptuous feast of lobster, crab, and an endless supply of beer and wine, the Catalyst members eventually went to bed. Much later into the night, Jake was seen sneaking into Laurel’s room. 

—

“I KNEW IT!” Burns typed. She laughed as her friends typed in responses full of lemon, fire, pepper, and eggplant emojis. She popped another cheese cube into her mouth and smiled, watching the rest of the episode play out.

#the royal romance fanfic #endless summer fanfic #choices the royal romance #choices endless summer #liam x mc #liam x trina #drake x alyssa #jake x mc #choices crossover fanfic #wacky drabbles #survivor au #happy birthday Burnsie #birthday fanfic #zaffrenotes writes #there was an attempt #this is not what I planned #lol but I am out of time and don't have it in me to scrap what I've written #🙈 I watched an entire season of Survivor for like...3 scenes to add to the fic

[nitewrighter]

Yahoo me, any character!

Let’s do some Birthday Gency!

(Whoops i guess this doubles as the “offer me” prompt)

Ever since the cybernetics were implemented, Genji’s body had a tendency to wake itself up without his permission. Granted, they were calculated off of natural and optimum circadian rhythms, and really the process that would wake him up was in fact, supposed to be largely a ‘warm-up’ process for his cybernetics so that his body would be ready when he did wake up, but the fact that it did actually wake him up, usually just a bit earlier than he would normally like, had come to be one of the many quirks of his body that he had resigned himself to ever since Doctor Ziegler saved his life. He knew the ceiling of the medical wing at the Overwatch Zurich headquarters very well at this point. Doctor Ziegler had even arranged for him to have a room waiting for him at all possible times should he run into any issues with his cybernetics. Admittedly it had been a while since he had come back here.

 In his last mission he had caught a bit more of a grenade’s blast then he would have liked, thought he had walked away from it just fine, but then his left leg started seizing up and his vision receptors would get distorted and staticky and he informed his CO and next thing he knew he was back here with Doctor Ziegler hard at work to repair the damages and run a full system diagnostic. He had come in too late and too tired from his mission to even bother staying awake through it.

His visor brightened as he awoke. He glanced down at the wires running into the plates on his arms and legs and along his ribs and then heard a gentle chiming sound coming from the monitors near his bed, indicating optimal cybernetic system conditions. He figured Doctor Ziegler would come in to unplug him from the monitors any minute now, but then he heard soft snoring in the same direction as the chiming and turned his head. Doctor Ziegler was asleep at the desk. She was a disheveled heap of a person wrapped in a labcoat and slumped between desk and swivel chair. There were heavy bags under her eyes and a strand of hair was stuck to her cheek with drool and threading into the corner of her mouth, which was hanging open as she snored. Genji regarded her for several seconds and then glanced back at the ceiling again. While he was pretty sure she would wake up with a bad ache in her neck from sleeping in that position, he also didn’t really have the heart to wake her up. The monitors chimed again and Doctor Ziegler muttered something in German and resumed snoring. Genji glanced down at the wires still plugged into him and cleared his throat (not that his throat actually got any obstructions with the cybernetics). Angela continued snoring. He cleared his throat louder. Angela remained unresponsive. 

“Doctor Ziegler,” he said.

Mercy woke with a start and an unattractive “Hnguh!” noise with a piece of paper stuck to the side of her face with her own drool, coughed a bit on her own phlegm, then muttered in german as she rubbed her eyes, “Statusbericht für diagnoskalibrier—” the monitors chimed again and she blinked and squinted at the monitors, peeling the paper off her face and pulling her hair out of her mouth. “Oh…” she said looking at the monitors. 

“Good morning, Doctor Ziegler,” said Genji, sitting up in his bed a bit.

“Morning…?” Mercy said, rubbing her eyes and yawning. She blinked several times and looked at the the sunny window behind Genji. “Morning,” she said, a quiet horror in her voice. She rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands, “Morning…Auch du scheisse…” the monitor chimed again and she hit a button on her keyboard to make it stop, then got to her feet, clearly aching. She stretched and her back popped several times and she rolled her shoulders as she walked over to Genji’s bed and set to work detaching the wires from the diagnostic monitors. “I am so sorry–” she started to say.

“You’re overworking again,” said Genji.

“I am not,” Angela yawned, “Overworking.” Genji could not make a lot of facial expressions with his whole mask and helmet, but he gave Angela a steady look which prompted her to go, “Look I just missed my afternoon coffee… and… dinner…”

“You do not need to wear yourself out so for my sake,” said Genji but Mercy scoffed.

“This was hours before you came in. You are far from my only patient, Genji, I assure you,” she said, unsticking some hair stuck to her cheek with drool with her thumbnail before pulling out a final wire. “All right–vision?”

“It is excellent,” said Genji.

“Mm-hmm,” said Mercy, “And the leg?” 

Genji swung his legs over the edge of his bed and bent and straightened his left leg demonstratively before standing up on his own two feet and taking a few steps around his hospital bed. “The leg is good,” he said.

“Good,” said Mercy.

“I will report in to Jack then. I should let you get to your other patients,” said Genji, moving to walk past her.

“Wait,” Angela said.

Genji stopped and Angela went back over to the desk and pulled out a bag, which she rifled through and then pulled out a package wrapped in green paper with a silver ribbon. She put it into Genji’s hands. “Your birthday was a few days ago, wasn’t it?”

“It was?” Genji said.

“Well… according to your medical records,” said Mercy, tucking her hair back and then re-doing her bun. 

“I… have been busy with missions,” Genji said, turning the package over in his hands, “It had not really occurred to me.”

“And you say I overwork,” said Mercy, smirking and folding her arms.

“I do say that,” Genji agreed before looking back down at the package, and saying, more to himself than to her, “My family never gave much mind to birthdays…”

“If you’re not comfortable with it you don’t have to—” Mercy started but Genji shook his head.

“I am glad you are giving me this. I am glad to have something to remember you by, Doctor Ziegler,” said Genji. He glanced down at his own hands holding the gift and then said, “Aside from the obvious.” His vision lingered on the the plates in his wrists.

“Genji?” Mercy sounded worried.

“Ah–sorry! My mind wandered,” said Genji, straightening up.

“Are you—?”

“I’m fine,” said Genji. Mercy looked unconvinced and an awkward pause passed between them before Genji blurted out, “Oh! Yes! I should open it!” and before Angela could ask him if he wanted to talk about it, he had quickly and easily whipped off the wrapping paper. It was an antique hard-cover copy of The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, with something hanging off of it.

“A book?” Genji said, flipping it open.

“Yes,” said Mercy, “Sorry for the odd choice in titles. Real books are hard to find these days. I just… I remembered you saying you had trouble with things feeling… real… with the implants. I know it’s silly but–but a lot of people still prefer these old things over e-readers because they’re supposed to feel more, um, real.”

Genji continued flipping through the book until he stopped and pulled out a bookmark. It was bamboo and hand-painted with sparrows, with a little sparrow charm hanging on a string off of it and out of the book so that he could find his page. The green glow of his visor brightened.

“They’re your favorite, right?” said Mercy.

Genji nodded then closed the book and ran his hand over the cover, feeling the slight indents of the gold leaf of the letters. 

“If you don’t like it—” Mercy started.

“I very much like it. Thank you, Doctor Ziegler,” said Genji with a slight bow.

“My pleasure,” said Mercy, “Happy Birthday, Genji. ”

#overwatch #gency #overwatch mercy #angela ziegler #genji shimada

[randrvstheworld]

Lost luggage, stolen bikes & sightseeing: the Rio therapy sessions

It’s been a tough couple of days. Ultimately things can only go up from the point of feeling like utter crap & a lot of good things have happened in the last 48 hours so I’m starting to feel a lot more positive. 

The bottom line is - Rio is awesome; beautiful, fun, sunny, heaps of fun stuff to do, loads of awesome street art, incredibly friendly helpful people everywhere & cool vibes which is exactly what I hoped for from a place I have wanted to visit for so long. However, it was off to quit a rocky start. As I mentioned in my last post I have been struggling quite a bit recently for a number of reasons, some of which I omitted from this blog for personal reasons, but have been massively looking forward to the arrival of Hannah from London for the festive period (not that I’m feeling too festive in 30+ degrees of sweltering heat, but that’s beside the point & also not necessarily a bad thing because I will never, EVER complain that the sun is shining, especially when I know my friends back home are cold & miserable). However, Hannah’s arrival was blighted by her airline leaving all her luggage in Germany, from whence she connected to Brazil from London, & she arrived stressed, tearful, sleep-deprived & anxious with no clean clothes or vape equipment in desperate need of a shower & nicotine. It was not quite the movie-level reunion either of us had planned or hoped for but did involve a lot of hugging & crying as expected. However, the people at our hostel here are impossibly lovely & were very sympathetic towards Hannah’s plight & so in a flurry of activity between them & myself within ten minutes Hannah had cigarettes, a towel, fresh clothes borrowed/donated from me, all the toiletries & makeup she could possibly need, coffee & a freshly made bed in the bunk directly above mine. After her sanity had been restored we set out to truly begin exploring the wonders of Rio.

This involved taking a cable car up to the top of Sugarloaf Mountain - world’s most adorably named mountain imo - which again marked big achievements from me in my ongoing quest to eliminate vertigo from my life. The mountain is remarkably smooth & very tall, like a giant turtle shell rising out of the ocean, & wrapped in jungly-ness. From the top we could see all of Rio; it’s surrounding islands, the harbour & it’s scattered boats, numerous more pre-historic looking mountains in the distance, Jesus with his arms spread, & many circling condors. It was a blissfully sunny day & it was truly incredible to see for so far all the beauty of this incredible city. During our ogling of the delicious views we were visited by heaps of tiny adorable marmosets that scurried along the viewing platform eating candies & numerous other decidedly un-marmoset-y treats donated sneakily by wayward tourists choosing to pointedly ignore the PLEASE DO NOT FEED THE MARMOSETS signs. I was very happy about this because a) marmosets are the cutest things ever & b) Hannah had specifically requested the sightings of monkeys during her stay & as a regular human & not God I was somewhat concerned about my ability to be able to deliver on this & yet here we found ourselves, on day one, looking at the cutest monkey-type creatures ever, right up close & in their natural habitat.

When we descended the mountain, the sun was beginning to set & we went for a swim on Batafogo beach where we saw green parrots & drank coconuts & ate THE BEST CHURROS OF OUR ENTIRE TRIP SO FAR. It seems they love dulce de leche even more in Brazil than any of the other places we’ve already visited in South America & this is in no way a bad thing. 

The next day - yesterday - we sunbathed on the world-famous Copacabana beach, then rented bikes & cycled to Rio’s lagoon, which is vast & beautiful & surrounded by mountains. Rio is pretty progressive in its cycling policies with lots of proper cycle paths round the whole city so cycling about seemed like a no-brainer. After making it halfway round the lagoon we decided to follow the signs to the botanical gardens & spent a blissful 90 minutes there before it closed. Not only does Rio have the best churros but is also home to the best botanical garden I have ever seen; it’s more like a huge, vast park than your typical greenhouse-like BG & we oohed & aahed over the most ginormous palm trees, beautiful orchids, & some fruit that look like giant lychees before inadvertently stumbling into monkey land: big patches of bamboo where we must have witnessed literally 20 monkeys eating their lunch. Another great score for Monkey Watch. Again, a real treat to see these sweet creatures right up close in such a beautiful environment. We also found giant fish & a turtle & a capybara in a lilypad-filled pond. I just love seeing exotic creatures in their natural homes. It really fills my heart with such joy & Hannah too was so excited by this it made me even happier. 

After the park closed we returned to our bicycles & cycled back round to our lagoon starting point & took a swan pedalo out across the water as the sun went down & the city lit up all of it’s twinkling night lights; very beautiful reflected in the water. Roxy had had to go home before this to sort out some stuff for a doctors appointment so Hannah & I, post-pedalo adventure, walked all the way back catching up on 6 months worth of gossip & ranting & counselling each other over our respective woes. It felt great to have a bit of time for just the two of us to talk & reminisce about anything & everything; I have missed Hannah so much & I didn’t quite even realise how much until she got here. I still can’t quite believe that she is actually here in Brazil. This is literally the longest we haven’t seen eachother in the entirety of our friendship & I have really struggled without her.

However, all good things must (temporarily at least) come to an end & on our way home, whilst stopping to buy Hannah some new clothes & stuff while she awaited the arrival of her luggage (thank you Lufthansa for the free sh*t, you incompetent cretins!) one of our renal bikes got nicked from outside the mall. FACK. Not cool, whoever you are! I feel like this is how the bike rental clowns run a racket on innocent tourists because they had provided one shitty lock for all three bikes which quite frankly I could probably have knawed through. A clean cut & we were one bike down & somewhat panic-stricken. There went another £100 which was significantly less than these cowboys tried to squeeze out of us but thanks to our lovely hostel hosts once more coming to our aid managed to whittle it down. However, paying for someone else’s crime truly stings. Plus it was another example of how alienating it can be to not know a language & having to rely on the kindness of hostel people etc to translate everything & help get you out of a jam. 

That said, the rest of today was marvellous. Roxy was tied up with her doctors appointment all day so Hannah & I declared it an ART DAY & visited Boulevard Olympico to look at all the giant murals, painted in the run up to the Rio Olympics in celebration of Brazilian culture. They were incredible. I have never seen such huge paintings; rendered in exquisite detail, portraits in the most vibrant colours with fantastically expressive faces. We also ate our first ever Cuban sandwiches & cinnamon lemonade - get to know - & went to the beach again to cool off in the sea. Cue more churros & coconuts.

I am now beginning to realise some things; Hannah’s arrival proved the catalyst for a pretty extreme late-night breakdown where the presence of the very person to whom I always turn in a crisis prompted an outpouring of emotion that has led in turn to some pretty heavy realisations. It is with renewed vigour that I am beginning to plan my return to the UK, to stability, to the loving arms of my friends & family & potentially to some help that I feel its finally time to admit I need. Having now eliminated the possibility that it was my job and/or London responsible for my sporadic waves of depression, given the fact that I have intermittently experienced the exact same feelings whilst away, I am now one step closer to deciphering what exactly is going on in my brain. Although it is with crushing disappointment that I must admit that travelling did not sure me of this ailment, at least now I can check the possibility of that off the list & try & move forwards. Hannah’s presence is so immensely welcome at this time; she is as always the most incredible, loving & supportive friend. I have been looking at flights home & being a gal that likes to have a plan having an end point in sight is in itself helping me feel more positive. I said all along that I would travel for as long as my money and/or enjoyment lasted & for now at least, it seems 8-9 months is my max on both counts. It’s cool. Only good things will come of this, I am certain.

I can now focus on spending as much quality time as possible with my oldest & dearest friend before she flies home again in 3 weeks. We have lots of fun stuff planned, including going to see some famous mosaic’d steps, visiting Jesus (just in time for his birthday!), going on a tour of a favela, Christmas at the beach, seeing in the New Year with some samba in Sao Paolo & rounding it all off nicely at the world’s biggest waterfalls. Things are looking up.

#brazil #best friends #travel diary #rio #riodejaneiro