#so if you enter a room to the left through the marker you run back to the right wall of the room and pretend you're in a new one

[mediocrevideopodcast]

Hi!! Could I request a platonic Mordecai Heller and GN reader where the reader helps Mordecai calm down after a stressful day, as well as dealing with reoccurring memories that hurt him to think about? Thank you so much! <3 <3 <3

A/N: Wowie, thank you for the patience on this! I might make a part 2 if people are interested since this was so short (and in the "earlier" stages of a Mordecai friendship,) but I had a lot of fun with this. He's such a good character, and while I think it'd take him a long, long time to ever open up... I think he'd really appreciate just having someone there in the moment. Enjoy!

Pairing: (Platonic) Mordecai Heller/Reader. Could be read as pre-relationship if you really believe in yourself. Content Warnings: Canon-typical implications of violence, vague allusions to comic spoilers (but nothing explicitly stated).

The halls are cold as you pad through the winding maze, kept warm only by the steaming teacup in your hand. Despite the immaculate condition Mordecai keeps his home in, it's damn-near impossible to keep the chill out when Winter rolls around. You pause in front of Mordecai's door, listening intently. The faint light trickling through the cracks in the door seems to be the only sign of life tonight, though.

You'd be lying if you said today wasn't a hard one. It seems like one too many things went wrong on today's run -- guns jamming, crowd panics, the usual. All small grievances in the grand scheme of things, albeit annoying ones. You've learned to look past the inherent danger in these little slip-ups -- to worry is to suffer twice, after all. But that's not what threw you off your game.

No, the issue was that you hadn't expected Asa's target of the week to have kids… and neither did the rest of your quartet. The argument on what to do with him lasted for longer than it should have -- it's not the first time Marigold's made you weigh your safety with your morality, but you've never had to do it like this. You shake your head, clearing your thoughts. It all worked out as it was meant to. 

You knock quietly on the door, calling his name. One beat passes, and then another. 

Silence. 

Anxiety brews quietly in your gut -- it's not particularly unusual for him to get absorbed into his work, but tonight feels different. You recall the lingering chill that surrounded Mordecai, long after the four of you split ways.

Taking a deep breath, you open the door, walking inside. 

Mordecai sits at his desk, bathed in the light of the lamp. His paperwork sits discarded, with a red marker sitting in the middle of his desk. It's such a bright object, so different from the rest of his office that it stands out like a bleeding wound in the wood. His eyes are closed, ears folded back with a furrow in his brow. If he's noticed you enter, he doesn't comment. Instead he rubs the bridge of his nose, before tracing harshly along the path of his pale white brows and landing at the creases of his lids. 

You pad over quietly, just loud enough to be heard. "Do you want to talk about it?" 

He sighs. "Not…" he pauses, pulling his hand away from his face. He opens his eyes, but they remain locked on the desk -- or more accurately, the pen. "Not particularly." 

"That's alright."  You hum quietly, taking a breath and placing the mug on the table. You turn, striding across the room to sit on the couch in his office. You pull a book from your bag, opening it to where you left off before casting another look at Mordecai. It's only then that his eyes move, glancing at the cup, and then at you. He blinks owlishly.

"Earl Grey," You smile, "Four minutes, and not a moment longer." 

For a moment you think you see his own lips perk up, too. But more than that, his shoulders drop some of their tension. He picks it up gingerly, raising it to his mouth before casting a look over the rim. 

"Thank you," he murmurs, taking a sip. 

"Of course."  

The silence is comforting, simply coexisting in the presence of one another. In the few short years you've known him, he's never been one to talk about his past. Although, you can't blame him for such a thing. It'd be dangerous in this line of work, after all. But you know him well enough to know that the quiet company is both more than he expects, and exactly what he needs in moments like these. You can't know what part of today hurt him this much, but you can be there when he needs you. The minutes tick by peacefully before he speaks up again. 

He clears his throat, drawing your attention back unto him. 

"Would you leave, if you could?" His voice is low, but steady. Unwavering. And yet it carries a weight with it, hinting at some deeper meaning beyond. You can surmise that part of it is about Marigold, but the other half...

"Beyond a doubt." 

You're not sure what compels you to say it, so confidently at that. It'd mean certain death if you left, and you know it. Whether it be at the hands of Asa himself, or from the retaliatory action from other gangs… it wouldn't be a wise decision. But when the words come out, you know that you've never meant anything more. 

He huffs quietly to himself, pulling his eyes away from yours. He picks up the marker and places it in a drawer before pulling his abandoned papers back into his workspace. "Good," he says. "It's good to have an open mind." 

You might not know everything that's led up to Mordecai being here, and you're sure that you'll likely never know much of his past. But you can be here in the present, and you'll be damned if you're not gonna be in his future, too.

#divider by @cafekitsune #lackadaisy x reader #lackadaisy mordecai x reader #mordecai heller x reader #lackadaisy imagine #lackadaisy imagines

[arielburrow]

Maybe one where joe gets nervous about the stadium crowd

10 minutes

This one is definitely a little shorter, but I thought it was cute :)

Four years. It had been four years of game days, big crowds, and adrenaline rushes. But never in those four years had Joe ever cracked.

This game was so very momentous given it was Joe’s first time back on the field since the first playoff game last season. The game which was going so well, until it wasn’t. With three minutes left in the fourth quarter, Joe took a third down sack which left him with a torn ACL and a fractured vertebrae. Devastating, to say the least. But the truth was, even in that moment Joe didn’t crack. You remember running to the tunnel to meet him alongside his parents, as he was carted off to be examined. You were so worried, even if you put out a good front to support him.

It was definitely a rough journey, the rehab process truly put you and Joe’s relationship to the test. You had to press pause on your life and focus on supporting him through his recovery. But of course, you guys made it out of the woods, and you truly felt that the two of you were now closer than ever.

His demeanor remained calm and collected as he joined the team again for training camp a couple of months ago. Since then, the guys have been grinding, finding that chemistry again to put on a show when it was finally time to hit the field again, which was now just about an hour and a half away.

It was the season opener, an away game at none other than Arrowhead Stadium. Walking through the tailgate, you could already tell what kind of game this was going to be. While bengals fans were ecstatic for Joes return, the sense of rivalry between the two teams had no intent of sitting this one out. You begin making your way to your seat, saying goodbye to the other significant others, as you decided to sit a bit early and catch up with Joe’s family.

After about an hour of chitchat, it seemed as if the whole stadium had been flipped. What was once a mild crowd, was now and sold out roaring mess, that couldn’t care less that there was still a half hour till kick off. You had no choice but to stop talking with his parents as the stadium had just gotten too loud. It was majority chief fans, with a few bengal fans. scattered about. You watched as the clock ticked down to the 20 minute marker, which caused an uproar of cheering and chanting across the stadium. You turn to yell something to Robin, but you’re stopped by a tap on the shoulder.

“y/n!” Katie yells, motioning for you to stand up. You get up quickly, feeling a little alarmed at her demeanor. She must notice Jimmy and Robins confused faces, because she leans over to converse with them for a few moments. “Katie is everything okay?” you ask in a worried tone as she begins her descent with you by her side to the field access.

“I don’t know y/n, he’s not talking at all, after warmups he came back into the locker room and slammed one of the office doors, he hasn’t come out since.” She stresses as you too hurry to the visitors locker room. “I need you to talk to him, get his mind right, because we need him out there in exactly 18 minutes.” Katie is stern, but you can tell she’s worried, as are you. Joe has never been in this situation before.

Entering the locker room, it’s surprisingly quiet, a few players greet you, but you can tell everyone has picked up on Joe’s funk. “y/n”, Tee runs up to you, leading you to where Joe is. “You know him the best, get our guy right.” he pleads giving you a side hug before going back to his locker.

You stand infront of the door, hesitant to knock. Instead, you just open the door. You frown as soon as you see his appearance. Head in his hands with his eyes shut, he’s sitting in the corner visibly startled by something. “Joe..” he only looks up when he hears your voice. He immediately stands, pulling you into him, wrapping his arms around you tightly. You hold him for a moment and allow him to feel whatever it is that’s getting to him.

“You can even hear it in the locker room…” he says lifting his head on his shoulder to meet your eyes. “What?” you question.

“I worked so hard for this moment and I knew it would be hard…but hearing that crowd. It’s paralyzing. What if i’m not ready.” His eyes hold a sense of worry, not sadness, just confusion, almost desperation.

“Joe. You are the only person who could do this. Nobody can fight like you, even when you were down, you were fighting like hell to get back to this moment. Who cares about the noise, you know how to tune it all out, you just have to find that mindset again.” You say reaching a hand to his cheek.

“It’s just so loud. I cant even think straight, let alone read a defense.” He stresses as he begins pacing.

“Joe-” “What if that was it?” He cuts you off and the pacing comes to a stop as he now makes eye contact with you from across the room.

“What if I lost the spark when I went down? I mean i’ve made my way through practice, but game days are different. What if I can’t get that rush back?” You walk over to him and sit him down on a desk so you can come to eye level with him.

“Joe, listen to me carefully. You have ten minutes, ten minutes to find that spark.” You place your hands on his knees and coke close to his face. “Whatever the fuck it is that makes you Joe Burrow, I need it, your team needs it, you need it. 10 minutes Joe.” You say quietly but sternly.

“Baby this is it, this is the comeback you’ve been working for. That crowd? That noise? They’re waiting for it Joe. Cmon, put on a show.” you wink and smile as you push yourself off of him. His face now holds a different emotion and he watched you walk towards the door.

“See ya in 10 Burrow.”

“10 minutes left!” Robin yells next to you. “Cmon Joe! We need this!” Jimmy yells amongst the crowd. The crowd that hadn’t given out even a bit throughout all four quarters of the game. Joe was playing alright for the most part. He started rough, with a pick within the first five minutes, but the team pulled through and we’re sitting down by 3 points. A couple more plays go by and the Bengals kick a field goal to tie the game with 5 minutes remaining.

You were nervous, there was no denying, this would be a big factor for Joes outlook on this season, and if they lost he would only be harder on himself. The clock continues to tick as the ball only barely makes it to the line play by play.

With one minute left you watch as Joe fakes a throw to Jamar, only to take off down the field. This was your least favorite part of the game. It sounded selfish, but it was true. Whenever Joe would take off, you just imagined the worst possible hit taking place. You watch as 2 defenders tail him, but he keeps up as you watch the yards decrease.

15

10

5

Touchdown.

You jump out of your seat and hug his parents as you watch the sideline go nuts. The once electric stadium was now mumbles, besides the few bengal fans around you. Joe takes off his helmet and you watch as he embraces Jamar and Tee.

You knew this meant the world for him and it felt like a dream to see him back as his normal self. The sidelines pour onto the field and Joe embraces multiple players and coaches. You see Zac pull Joe in and spend a moment talking to him, then the Jumbotron picks up on it and the crowd erupts. What was once a moderate group of Bengals fans, sounded as loud as the whole stadium. They chanted Joe’s name in union, staying seated as the rest of the chief fans made their way out.

This was going to be a good season, you thought to yourself.

#joe burrow #joe burrow fic #joeburrow #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow x y/n

[sansxfuckyou]

I've got the beats, I've got the bass (I've got the treats, for you to taste)

Summary: Floyd doubts there'll be a lot of him left to save when his brothers find him

Warnings: cannibalism, gore, amputation, Floyd is going through it, check Ao3 port for full tags

Authors Note: inspired by the Troll Twins AU by @ohposhers, im aware the cannibalism post was like, not official to the au, but the inner phan demanded i write this. title from DJ Whore by S3RL, hope ya'll enjoy and if you do consider dropping a reblog or checking out the ao3 port

edit 2023.12.28: WE GOT A SECOND CHAPTER OUT NOW!! it displays a small amount of comfort edit 2023.12.30: the third and final chapter has been posted, it's also been turned into a series because I have so many ideas about it

It's a little bit twisted, and a lot bit fucked up.

But they can't sing, they're Trolls and they can't sing, maybe if they were Classical it wouldn't be a problem. But they're born Pop and they can barely hold a note despite the fact they want to be famous so fucking badly. So they turn to the next best option, run away to Mount Rageous and make it big with a bunch of jello jointed freaks.

Of course, they still need an iota of talent to make it with even a bit of success.

Their method for getting that talent is beyond cruel, beyond human, beyond anything that could be conceived by a Pop Troll. But Velvet's everything but a Pop Troll these days, sadistic, uncaring, greedy- she'll get what she wants and she'll take her brother with her. She'll take her brother and the first unfortunate thing that has talent at that, figure out how to use that talent for herself and keep it.

Veneer always stared, unable to do anything as she worked, "Vel, this is-"

"Genius? I know," Velvet always answered with as she shucked slices of meat from the Troll under their ownership, paper thin and raw on a plate she'd hand to Veneer, "Eat up."

And he always did, he always fucking ate it. He always took his half and she always took her half, rejuvenating the talent they lacked with a small tray of raw meat from their own kin. She smiled this darling smile the entire time their captive watched them devour him, and Veneer tried to do the same.

"You two are fucked," Floyd argued as Velvet would bandage his arms and block off the bleeding because she had some civility despite everything. He'd clench and unclench his fist just to make sure he still could considering how spindly he was with how much they took away from him.

Velvet just giggles, "Maybe we'll take off your whole arm next, let you bleed out a bit," She traces a sharp nail across the joint of his shoulder. He shudders and tries to jerk away, the cuffs on his wrists make it shockingly hard to do so.

They get famous while he wastes away, chunk by chunk. They're erring closer to having a fame that reaches outside of Mount Rageous and he's erring closer to them having to nibble on his bones for his talent. The idea almost makes him laugh, but then he remembers that laughing hurts with how frail he is.

It's when Velvet enters the room with a hacksaw and a breaking knife that he cries for the first time. Tears welling up in his eyes and he can't bring himself to stifle them or wipe them away even though the cuffs are gone. He just sobs, aware of the fact that this is it, they're finally going to lop off his head.

"Oh don't be a baby," Velvet chided as she grabbed her marker, bright red, paint instead of ink, and dragged it along Floyd's thigh, just above his knee. She left a dotted line around his leg and he tries to stop crying.

"Do you have any anesthetic?" Floyd asked, trying to be smug.

Velvet gives this falsely contemplative hum, "Maybe," She lays down the jagged end of the hacksaw at the line, "But probably not."

Then she starts to cut, back and forth across the flesh with enough pressure to snap a rib. Teeth tear him open and he yowls, nerve endings fraying as his blood pools around him. It's shiny, not glittery per se, but definitely holding an almost opalescent sheen due to his Pop origins. It makes Velvet's mouth water, the fresh scent hitting her nose and she could tear into him with her own teeth right then and there but she doesn't.

No, she just forces further down through tendon and fat alike. His meat is both lean and marbled quite nicely with the diet they've been feeding him. Just enough to keep him alive, but fatty and carbohydrate heavy to make his flesh taste better and less tough. She presses the breaking knife beside the hacksaw when she hits the knob of the femur and presses hard until she hears something splinter. The scream accompanying it confirms her suspicions that she broke it as she cuts through marrow without any remorse.

He just whimpers and bites his tongue, hot tears still roll down his face as he watches her try and tear it the rest of the way. Twisting and yanking and it hurts so fucking bad but he can't do much to stop her. It comes off with this terrible sound and he wails as Velvet just lops off the skin with the breaking knife, aware she'll have to go at it more finely later.

"Shut up," Velvet demanded, tossing aside the leg and grabbing the bandage, "I'm not gonna let you die, or sleep through it."

He just nods as she bandages up his jagged stump, not even bothering to slice it smooth with her knife so the nerve endings aren't everywhere and torn every way possible. She bandages him with some semblance of care, he is their talent, he is their guinea pig, she can't just let him die. That'd be too nice of her considering how much talent is left on his bones, how much skill they can pilfer from his flesh.

"Hey Vel! We're running out of seasoning!" It's Veneer whose shouting down the hallways and Floyd hears.

"So I'm not good enough raw?" Floyd questioned, trying so very, very hard to be smug despite the pain coursing through every inch of his body.

Velvet scoffed, taking the leg and standing up, "Don't flatter yourself."

There's this stench of decay in Floyd's holding room by the time the twins are actually taken down. Even at that they aren't really taken down, just put in the slammer by their ever present assistant Crimp who would occasionally sneak some iron supplements into his food. She was nice, she was trampled on but she was nice, learned how to play ukulele to Floyd's singing and the such.

But she couldn't put back the flesh they stripped him of, tearing him down to his bones and even at that lopping limbs off. He's missing a leg below the knee and his entire right arm, shoulder down, and the rest of him is worryingly thin. Not because he was starved, far from him being starved, by the time he started running out of meat on his bones they upped his diet to try and make him last. It was futile really, they still tore off his skin and the flesh underneath it till all he had was bones with a paper thin layer of nerves and red wrapped in bandages.

The floor and walls are thoroughly saturated in the scent of his blood, his tears, and the medications they used to keep him from dying prematurely. Tranexamic acid to thicken his blood so he wouldn't bleed out. Midazolam to help him keep breathing even with the frailty in his everything. Benzodiazepines to stop his anxiety and force his muscles to ease up so his flesh wouldn't be so tense. Morphine, acetaminophen, risperidone, the list went on and on, he's pretty sure the nights he spent vomiting them up only hastened his wasting.

Dying would've been better than this though. Being torn apart, picked apart, used for his talent, having the life ripped out of him. At least none of his brothers had to see him like this, at least Branch didn't have to see him so ruined. He'd be the worst brother ever if Branch had to see him like this, if any of them did. Traumatized for life, he doubts he could live with himself if any of them got nightmares from seeing him in such a zombified state.

He winces when the door opens and light filters in, the rush of uncontaminated air doesn't reach him through the overpowering scent of decay. He can barely make out the silhouettes as Trolls, and instead of being defiant like he usually is, he crumbles. He can't fight it anymore, he's on his last leg to a literal degree and he knows he'll die if they take anymore.

"I'm out of talent," He begged, tears welling up once again, "I'm dead, just look at me," His voice catches on a sob.

They take one step further in, "Floyd?"

Floyd barely recognizes the voice, but he still sobs, even harder knowing it's one of his brothers, "I told you it was a trap, John," He's laughing now, it hurts so much but he's laughing regardless. He tries to shove himself up but everything hurts too much to do so, "Why did you bring our brothers?"

"Cause last time you were in a diamond holding cell! Now you're in a fucking closet that smells like shit," John snapped before stepping even further in, one step at a time. He was still getting used to the low light, his three younger brothers followed in suite.

"Don't! Just, leave!" It's a plea, it's the closest Floyd can get to a demand. He desperately thrusts out a paw like it'll stop them even though he knows it won't, and the action rubs the bandages against his raw nerves the wrong way. There's a hiss of agony, "Please, don't."

"We came here to save you," Bruce butted in with.

"I left my tribe to find you, Floyd," Clay said, stepping more gingerly than the others, "We're taking you home."

"Do you want to stay here?" Branch questioned.

And Floyd just sobbed, raising his paw to his face to try and hide himself away from them, hitching his good leg to his chest to hide the bandages. He whimpered and cried as they finally stepped close enough to see him in all of his ruination. The footsteps stop and he knows they're all riddled with disgust, riddled with fear, with regret, with shame. Their brother who looks like he was sent through the wood chipper, their brother who promised he'd come back, their brother, destroyed.

"I told you to leave," He whispers the word, eyes shut and body limp because he can't bear to see their disgust, "I fucking told you."

Paws gently lift him up, cradling him in a set of arms and he keeps sobbing, curling into whoever held him. He doesn't know which one it is because they all wear vests and open front shirts, in the past at least. He just knows he's holding on tight and apologizing for all the blood he's getting on their fur despite the repetition of 'its okay' being spoken back softly.

-/-/-/-

Floyd is out cold in the back of John Dory's van, strapped down with strips of the emergency roll of scrap booking felt that Poppy always brings with her. Branch has never been more pleased in his entire life that his girlfriend is a weirdo who always needs to scrap book because it's keeping his brother secured. He still feels absolutely sick to the stomach and he's not sure if it's the vile smell of rotting blood or the disgust with what Velvet and Veneer had done. All of them feel nauseated.

"Is he gonna make it?" Clay is the one who breaks the silence.

"Of course he will, we have the best doctors across any genre," Branch snapped back with, the sharpness of his voice unintentional.

Clay shrinks back just a bit, but shoots something back just as sharply, "Sorry to hit a nerve."

"Can we not argue right now?" Poppy asked, leaning between the two with this nervous look on her face, "Please?"

Branch crosses his arms and slumps against the wall of the van, Clay mirrors the motions.

Bruce clears his throat, "Poppy's right, we should just get Floyd under medical care as soon as possible."

"Is he even awake?!" John shouted from the front, eyes still firmly fixed on the road but body riddled with concern and fear and so many other things.

"He passed out!" Bruce shouted back.

Branch leans up against Poppy, "I'm scared," It's a whisper, it barely comes out at all. He never thought he'd admit an emotion as vulnerable as fear to a Troll as loud as Poppy.

Poppy just wraps an arm around his shoulders before whispering back, "It'll be okay," even though she doesn't know if it will.

"What if it isn't?" Branch asked just as quietly.

Poppy doesn't have an answer.

There's this low groan from the back of the van, no one up front dares to move because Bruce is already back there. They don't want to send Floyd ricocheting into another freak out, "Where am I?"

"In John's van," Bruce answered with.

Floyd tried to move but he couldn't, panic shot through him. His breathing hastened just a bit, "Why am I tied down?" He tries to quell the fear resting so heavily on his voice, weighing down on his calm and cool exterior.

"Because you're not doing so hot, it's for safety," Bruce said, trying to keep his voice soft, slipping into dad mode without even realizing it, "We'll take them off as soon as we get home, okay?"

Floyd gave this weak semblance of a nod, "Okay, is Branch here?"

The aforementioned brother scrambles to get to the back of the van, "Of course I am."

"Sorry you had to see me so messed up," Floyd apologized and Branch feels like crying at the comment because it's so fucked up that Floyd is saying sorry for being destroyed when he could do nothing.

"Floyd, it's fine, you couldn't," Branch tries to speak, he really does, but a whole lot of nothing comes up. He just holds onto Floyd's paw desperately tight, "We should've been there sooner."

"You had your own lives," Floyd countered with, "Thanks for saving me anyways."

"We'll always be there to save you, Floyd," Bruce supplied in place of Branch who was just rendered nonverbal.

"Is he gonna walk again?" Branch asked.

The doctor shook her head, "Even with prosthetics using Funk technology and Rock materials, he still doesn't have enough meat on his bones to properly move them to their full extent."

"Can't you give him a graft?" Clay asked, "I read about it, skin grafts, muscle grafts, take some flesh and use it somewhere else."

"I absolutely would but the thing is," She gives this sigh before gesturing to Floyd's body.

He's near skeletal, not enough of the right bio chemicals in him to scab up everywhere, he's torn up and raw. With the bandages removed he looks even more zombie, even if he is asleep over a hospital cocktail with light analgesia. It wasn't supposed to knock him out, just ease the pain, but apparently he was destroyed enough that the small amount of alcohol did knock him down. His arm is as thin as Clay's, in some places stripped to the bone. His good leg and his other thigh have chunks ripped out of them, whole sections of muscle and tendon alike removed but not quite to the bone there. His ribs are pronounced, so are his collar bones, and the crests of his pelvis, not enough flesh to keep the sharpness hidden.

"There isn't anything to take and use elsewhere. He's a shell of his former self, if we're lucky we can stabilize him and keep him on light foods until he fills out a bit. Then he'll be stuck in a wheelchair for the rest of his life, if we're lucky he'd be able to use a prosthetic with crutches on a good day," The doctor explained. A deep sense of horror knotted itself onto the brothers stomachs. Not enough flesh to do a graft, of course there isn't enough leftover, he's a skeleton for fucks sake! They're glad Floyd isn't awake to hear about his brand new future (they don't know he'll take anything so long as he isn't in the hands of Velvet and Veneer).

John Dory won't stand for it, "Hey doc, if you have a donor with the same blood type or whatever, it could work, theoretically speaking," He's grasping at straws really, but he doesn't want his baby brother to live a life without dancing, or going on walks, or any other thing that he can think of. He'd sooner die than use a wheel chair, his life was the mountains, his life was rough terrain. And even though he doesn't know if Floyd feels the same, he doesn't want his brother robbed.

"Are you insane?" Was what Bruce said before the doctor could answer.

"I was in the woods living off of swamp scum and bird carcass for twenty years, I absolutely am," He presses a digit to Bruce's chest as he speaks and shoves him back, "I want my brother to walk with us, to dance with us."

"He can do it in a wheel chair," Bruce countered with, "Medical advances have been made, we've come really far in twenty years."

"Guys," Clay butted in with, they both snapped to glare at him, "Let the doctor speak before you tear your heads off."

"It could work, hypothetically, but if his body rejects the graft for some inane reason he might not make it through the night. Although he might not make it either way given his current condition," The doctor said, "It's up to you four to call the shots because he's out cold."

They all share a tense glance.

"We all have the same blood type," Branch got out quietly.

"Blood type O, universal donor, can only take other O's," Clay tacked on.

"And our fur would match his, he wouldn't look totally frankensteined," John said.

Bruce stayed quiet.

"It's up to you, Bruce, this could work," Branch pressed.

"Fine, just don't take too much off of me," Bruce said, "I have a wife who would not appreciate me coming home butchered."

"Bruce, this is about Floyd," Clay said rather sternly, "We all know your wife will love you no matter how bloody you are."

"Guess some things never change, like your whole 'gotta look good' thing," John teased.

The doctor cleared her throat and all eyes were on her, "If we want to have enough time we'll need to put you under for surgery in the next hour or so, the clock is ticking."

"I'm doing it,"

"Count me in,"

"Me too,"

"So am I,"

-/-/-/-

All of them are unconscious when they're stolen from, strips of flesh taken from their serratus anterior and latissimus dorsi so no one has to see the scars when it's over. They're carefully cut open and extracted, a little bit of skin came with it because Floyd didn't have enough skin himself these days. At least when he still had the bandages on they could lie and say he had scabs and skin, lie and say the stench was because he hasn't had a shower in months, not because his blood refused to dry properly and rot and infect instead.

Mismatched muscles are stitched into the gaping lacerations across his body, surgical glue used around the edges just to make sure. Patches of his brothers skin from where their flesh was taken are stitched atop to try and hide the raw flesh, bright red and shimmery, it might help stimulate his body into trying to regrow his own skin. Otherwise he'll always have scars a deeper hue than his blood beside skin held on with stitches like he's one of Frankenstein's monsters, unfinished and abandoned.

Except his brothers are risking their own hide to try and bring him back from his virtually undead state, so close to death he might as well bury himself. He has four brothers letting themselves be butchered so he'll be able to move his remaining limbs, so he'll be able to live without the risk of developing a medication tolerance too strong. He has four brothers that are giving a doctor permission to take a piece out of them to sew into him instead, maybe if he were awake he'd say something about how poetic that is, how they'll never be apart again.

But he isn't awake, instead he's blissfully asleep on a small shot that was supposed to make him more sociable and numb the pain. He passed out rather fast after taking it, and then his brothers could begin discussing the truth of the matter without Floyd. If he was awake when they brought up the graft they know he would defy it, they know he would say it isn't right for them to make that sacrifice. They also know their brother would waste away without their help, waste away without any extra meat, exposed bone doesn't scream 'healthy' in Pop Village.

There's an extraction from Bruce first, tactfully cut from his lower back and laid atop Floyd's rib cage. Slid over top the painfully thin muscles in thin slices, some if it was placed along his hips to add padding to his painfully prominent bones. To make him less skeletal, it was mostly cosmetic on that front, but if he tripped and fell he could shatter like glass with how exposed they were. He'd shatter and there'd be so much blood it would leave someone scarred for life, so much whimpering because punctured lungs leaves no room for screaming.

The doctor takes from John Dory next because of how insistent he was on the procedure, how insistent he was to make sure Floyd could have flesh again. It's taken from one thigh, a solid chunk taken out and replaced with an almost jelly substance. He'd collapse when he walked without a substitute of some sort, he'll be reduced to crutches until he gets used to it. A consequence perhaps, or just cruel fate that he has the perfect cut of meat to fill one of the larger gaps in Floyd's good leg. He's restitched with most of his skin, but again, a good chunk of it goes to his little brother, to keep him from drying in the sun.

"What's happening?" It's Floyd, waking up strapped down and held open with someone holding a piece of meat. He instantly goes to thrash, scared, afraid, oh god he thought he escaped. What a cruel dream, imagining his brothers would actually pull through, he's still stuck.

"Calm down, Floyd," The doctor said, "We're in a hospital, giving you a surgery, your safe, your brothers are safe."

Floyd tries to nod, "Why am I awake?"

"Analgesia knocked you out, it just wore off," She said, grabbing a needle, "So please, hold still."

He does as told, needle sliding through his skin with ease. It only stings a little bit as he anesthetic pushes through his veins rather sluggishly. The doctor falters on using another needle to actually knock him out and only chooses against it when he drifts back to sleep. There's a long pause of no motion, no advances, just in case he wakes back up again, but when he doesn't she continues.

Placing John's flesh into the cavity of Floyd's leg and stitching it closed, surgical glue to keep it in place after he's been closed up. The stitches almost match his fur, thread off by a single shade, just a bit darker than he is. And it keeps staining on the blood inside of him when the needle goes through, keeps picking up that red pigment that shines like liquid gold. She'll rinse it clean after the surgery is done, after he's patched up using chunks of his brothers who love him so much they'd tear themselves apart for him.

She hesitates to take anything off of Clay because he's already spindly. But he wants to give as well, he's the one who remembered their blood types were all O despite the odds. He gets the exterior layer of skin from his lower back shucked off unforgivingly, he's too thin to take his muscle, that'd put him in danger. The flesh is stitched onto the nub just above Floyd's knee, where he was amputated without any reason. The jagged gore won't connect to a prosthetic very well, it's smoothed with a scalpel before the skin is put into place. Definitely not the average surgical move, but whatever it takes to keep a patient alive, including slicing off bits of meat in need of replacement. It's rotten flesh anyways, always exposed to air and never allowed to properly heal, it reeks of death like the rest of his body.

Branch is the final one taken from, strips out of his thighs spliced into Floyd's arms length wise. They fill out nicely, rest atop the bone in such a fashion they look like they belonged in his arm instead of Branch's leg. The hue of the flesh and the hue of the skin didn't match, the gray that Branch experienced still held strong even upon being cut up and stitched to a new body. It really makes Floyd look chimeric, like a rotten, decaying, beast of mythology that shouldn't be able to exist. And if he makes it out alive he'll fit the description perfectly because his heart rate should've dropped off the face of the planet by now, but it hasn't, he's still alive somehow.

He's still alive and so far his body isn't rejecting the sacrifices his brothers are making for him. It's a miracle really, them getting him to the hospital on time to get him stabilized for a surgery is also miracle. And maybe the defiance John Dory held over letting Floyd be forced into a wheel chair will bring advances to the medical field, probably not. But this in itself is amazing, the fact he's getting pulled together by thread and woke up not coughing blood is absurd.

Maybe when he wakes up at the designated time he still won't cough up blood.

-/-/-/-

John Dory wakes up last, "What happened?" He swings his leg over the edge of his bed and hisses because it hurts real bad.

Bruce is face down on his bed, "We gave Floyd a muscle graft, remember?"

"Right," John answered with before going to stand, he instantly collapsed, heavily leaning on the small table. Crutches, he grabs them instantly to prop himself up, knees shaking, "Where's Floyd?"

"I'm over here," Came Floyd's voice from the other side of the room, he was hobbling over with his new leg. It looked sleek, a lovely metallic sheen to it due to the materials and the Funk craftsmanship ties it together, the shape similar enough to an organic leg. He's using a crutch to walk over, fresh flesh in his thigh sore, but working with a bit of weight alleviation.

"You look great man!" Elation is heavy on John's voice as he tries to take a step over with the crutches. He nearly falls, "Whose are these?"

"Yours, the substitute for the chunk they took out of you is still fresh. It's gonna take time to walk 'normally' with it, but crutches are easy after a bit," Floyd explained, "Thanks."

John sits back down on his bed, "Well jeez, your welcome bro, but I may have to take that flesh back if I can't walk."

"You're lucky you aren't in a wheel chair," Bruce stated boldly, rolling onto his side just a bit, "The doc said that it was almost so bad you'd need one, you're lucky."

"Say, where's Branch? And Clay?" John asked, changing the subject with ease.

Floyd shrugged with one shoulder, the prosthetic not responding as much as desired, "I'm pretty sure they're in the room next too us, still asleep. When I asked the doctor she said they were still alive."

"They fucking better be, I'll crush her skull with these stupid crutches if they aren't," John snarled out.

"See, you're already in love with them," Floyd teased, "I'm sure Branch will outfit them to your style once he's done with his recovery."

Bruce gives a laugh, "Karma."

"Shut up," He pointed the end of his crutch at Bruce threateningly.

Bruce just batted it away with his paw, "How dangerous."

"Guys, neither of you are in condition to get in fight,"

"Beg to differ,"

"I could kick his ass no matter what,"

Floyd sighed, taking a couple disjointed steps closer to take a seat at the foot of Bruce's bed. He leans his crutch on the edge, "You could not, you're a dad."

"Makes me even better at tossing little shits around," Bruce countered with.

John is quick to try and breach the small gap, he ends up face first in Bruce's bed. It garners a loud laugh, "Shut up," it's a muffled plea, "How long are we gonna be in this place for?"

"A considerable while," Floyd offered nervously, "It varies between us. Me, you, and Branch are gonna be here the longest because we need some physical rehab, might be permanent for you and Branch, it will for me."

Bruce hoists up John fully onto the mattress, "I'm regretting saving your life," Bruce clips the back of his head for that comment.

Floyd just laughs, "Gee, I love you too."

#troll twins au #trolls world tour #trolls fanfic #trolls floyd #velvet and veneer #trolls #writing #fanfic #fanfiction #tw gore #tw body horror #tw cannibalism

[kit-williams]

The Red Tithe

Fuck you @bispecsual

OC: Ophelia, 7ft tall stable mutant, female, dirty blonde hair, green eyes

tw: Carcharodon, loss of female autonomy?

Ophelia was use to being a freak. She was the tallest and broadest woman on her planet perhaps even amongst the men. But she was a stable mutant as the church declared her fine. Then the horror came... the Red Tithe as she would discover it to be called. She lived on the edge of a larger town so she had time to try and escape but somehow they discovered she existed and it was horrifying.

Ophelia ran as fast as she could as two brothers had nipped at her heels after she had to put down the children that she was carrying. They ignored them as it was clear she was important quarry. It didn't take her long to realize she was being herded. The apothecaries were excited to have her genetics running through the population of slaves or serfs or even the Astarte. What scared Ophelia so much was how silent they were... and she remembers screaming as she scrambled around the closing net before she was grabbed.

She holds in a whimper as they've made it very clear her place and why she is here... to be breeding stock... to be used and harvested until there is nothing left to harvest. She can still feel the markers being drawn on her body over where her ovaries are. She whimpers as she can feel the prowling of brothers before in a panic she slips into a room to simply hide not realizing she ushered herself into the lair of a predator.

Black eyes lock onto the shaking shoulders and ears tune into the whimpering and shuttering breaths. Tyberos can practically taste the salt in the tears. He can hear her breathing pick up as the door doesn't open and he watches those fearful green eyes dart around looking for a way out. A serf's door... anything...

Ophelia just feels dread wash over her as there is a horrible pit in her stomach. She trembles as she turns and turns right into his palm cupping her cheek and chin. Silent tears flow down her face as she should have questioned why the room was so spacious... why the furniture felt big... she was so use to everything being so small that she couldn't fathom something being bigger. She lets out a distressed sob.

He lets out a soft 'shhhh' as he pets her hair and takes a step closer. Ophelia scrambles back, her singular heart pumping so hard, the wall against her back. The fearful wail stuck in her throat as the firm bed barely gives as she is tossed onto it. Ophelia curls up on herself into the fetal position as she cowers. He whispers to her, "I'll be gentle. I promise."

She sobs still thinking this is some random Astarte she unfortunately wandered into not realizing she entered the void father's room. For Tyberos she was cute... that was a plus... he admired the fact that she ran as long as she did. She'll have many pups... and once they isolate the gene for her height and build they'll collect her eggs and like everything else they acquire... they use it for all it is worth. But as Chapter Master... he will indulge in keeping her around even if they harvest everything from her.

She lets out another sob as his tongue moves against her cheek and he inhales the smell of wildflowers, "I'm going to breed you now." He says as she just sobs beneath him.

#warhammer 40k #Space Marine #Yandere #Yandere Space Marine #Space Marine x oc #Tyberos the red wake #tyberos #Space Sharks #carcharodon astra

[charliethecandyeater]

🖤💛🖤💛🖤💛

He took them all.

He actually took them all.

The Narrator couldn't believe it. He didn't even realize that it could be done!

How had Stanley been getting away with this for so long?

Pens.

Pencils.

Weird off-brand dry erase markers.

Even the stupid little crayons that had been in one of the desk drawers, heaven knows how the hell that got in there.

All crammed into that infernal bucket clutched tightly in his sweet protagonist's arms.

He was intrigued by this, his curiosity piqued. What was his little human up to?

"As Stanley came to a set of two open doors, they entered the door on their left." The Narrator said the line like always, fully expecting Stanley to disobey him yet again.

But Stanley, much to The Narrator's surprise, actually listened to the story for once and went through the right door. That being the left. Door.

The Narrator had to stop a verbal 'oh' that threatened to leave his lips. Well that's unexpected, but surely not unwelcomed. The Narrator straightens himself, slightly more invigorated and excited to get on with the story.

In fact, he almost let out a sigh of relief as Stanley finally walked into the meeting room after what felt like thousands of runs of him completely ignoring the proper path. In reality it was only 10, but it was 10 *excruciatingly long* runs.

And so the Narrator began his dialogue for this room, as he always did. "Yet there was not a single person here either."

He watched as Stanley started rummaging around the table looking for... Something? He chose to ignore it and continue on as proper.

"Feeling a wave of disbelief, Stanley decided to go up to his boss's... Stanley, what are you doing?"

In the short time he had been talking, Stanley had gathered roughly seven or eight blank pages, trying his best to put them in a neat stack before continuing to look for more.

"Stanley, didn't you hear me? Just what do you think you're doing, we have a story to experience together!" Stanley simply gave a cheerful lopsided grin to the ceiling and continued looking for more paper.

Now, as an omnipresent being, the Narrator always did find little quirks of humans funny. Stanley had done several strange things before, and the Narrator had learned to except these weird little quirks in one way or another. On several occasions Stanley had simply plopped his little butt in the broom closet and actually sat there until he almost passed out from exhaustion. The Narrator had to reset the story manually when it had gotten to that point. Apparently the broom closet was some sort of... oh how did they put it... "comfort room" for his human, and The Narrator has since cut back on his mocking of Stanley's love for the broom closet. If Stanley truly likes the room so much, it wouldn't be right for The Narrator to complain.

Other times Stanley would just stay in his office without triggering the coward ending and simply sit at his desk while daydreaming. Horribly inefficient, definitely time-consuming, but it definitely wasn't hurting anyone. It was the many things like that that made Stanley feel like a real person. And if Stanley was real, then The Narrator was definitely real. The little tiny quirks and interests that Stanley had did nothing but fuel The Narrator's desire to understand and appreciate his protagonist better.

This was new, however.

The Narrator was startled out of his thoughts as Stanley unceremoniously dumped all the writing utensils stored in the bucket onto the meeting room table. An involuntary gasp had left The Narrator's mouth, unfortunately too audible for Stanley not to have noticed. A cocky little smirk pulled on to his dark freckled face and *God damn him*

"That wasn't nice!" The Narrator huffed. A small barely audible chuckle left Stanley's lips, his hands moving almost mirthfully.

'I'm sorry, I didn't mean to.'

"Well *good* that you're sorry!" The Narrator bit back, though there was no real malice to his words. "Stanley, if I were human you could have very well given me a heart attack! Which I don't believe would have been very pleasant for either of us."

Stanley smiled as he quietly giggled, eyes moving back downward to arrange the writing utensils he spilled onto the table. The Narrator could feel a laugh of its own threaten to pull itself from his lungs. Damn it all, he sure was a pretty picture when he smiled.

"All right stanley, enough is enough, please tell me what's so important that you have to completely derail my story."

Stanley rolled his eyes before quickly signing.

'You're too dramatic. It's not *completely* derailed, all I have to do is go through the door.'

"Well then it's sidetracked!" The Narrator retorted.

Stanley pulled up a chair and uncapped a colored permanent marker as he sat down. It was a bright fluorescent yellow, and it vaguely reminded The Narrator of the Adventure Line(™️). A vague image of the little rascal(™️) flashes briefly through The Narrators thoughts.

His nonexistent brows scrunched in confusion, and he really couldn't help himself as he leaned in closer, vaguely wondering if he should load in his physical model so he could get a better look at whatever Stanley was doing.

"Stanley, are you drawing pictures? Oh! Or perhaps writing your own story? Oh dear, I can't imagine how mundane *those* would be."

Stanley fought the urge to roll his eyes again, another chuckle vibrating their chest as they continue doodling on the newly acquired sheet of paper. Their eyes lifted towards the ceiling once more, signing 'Would you like to come down and draw with me?'

The Narrator shook his head, a smile on his face despite everything.

"Oh, no no Stanley, I'm not an artist."

Stanley's lips pursed as he thought.

'Stories are art, right? They're just kind of with words instead of colors.'

The Narrator didn't say anything as he saw that. What an interesting take. It certainly made him feel a bit flustered that Stanley called his stories "art", silly little human. The omnipresent being neglected to say anything after that, simply watching his companion draw in silence.

#tsp bucket #tsp stanley #tsp narrator #tspud #tspud narrator #the stanley parable narrator #the stanley parable ultra deluxe #the stanley parable #stanley x narrator #but I guess it's platonic #I made it with the ship in mind though

[sanjisprincesswifey]

from the prompt list can i request #8 "is that my shirt?" with Sanji when he and f!reader have been dating a while and are moving into the same bedroom

note: ah the opportunity to write some domestic sanji, thank you sweet anon! (:

♡: female reader. 700+ words. sfw content.

the box full of books and journals rumbles against the wooden floor, as you set it down. you stretch your back as you stand upright once again, falling back onto the queen-sized mattress you had recently purchased, wiggling out your tired ankles.

your eyelids fight sleep as your body does the same, attempting to not give in to the comfort of the pillowy bed.

“tired already?” sanji chuckles as he enters the room with boxes of his own in hand.

you giggle, not opening your own eyes but shaking your head anyways. “maybe a little, but i still have a couple of boxes in the girls' cabin i need to get,” you yawn.

sanji peeks out the door, across the hall to the aforementioned room, and then back to you before smiling.

you feel the mattress shift as he lays down next to you, leaning on his elbow to stare down at you. you lean into his warmth nuzzling your head into his clothes chest, not doing yourself any favors with how tired you are.

with his free hand, his fingers reach out to caress your cheek before running them through your hair. he hums with contentment, leaning down to kiss your forehead a couple of times. “why don’t you get some rest, darling? i can take care of the boxes,” he suggests, not wanting you to move from such an angelic position.

you finally open your eyes, furrowing your brows together with a pouty expression on your face. “no sanji! i’m almost done, i was just resting my eyes for a second,” you argue back, leaning up to peck his lips and then sit back up on the bed.

sanji knows not to argue back so he agrees, resting his forehead on your exposed shoulder, and kissing the skin lightly. “whatever you say, my love” he concedes as he perks his head up like an idea popped into his head, “why don’t you start unpacking? i’ll grab the rest of the boxes for you,” he smiles, rubbing his cheek on your shoulder.

“yeah, i can do that,” you admit, knowing that the boxes left in your room were some of the heaviest ones.

sanji kisses your forehead once again before going to retrieve what’s left.

you stand up, reading the marker on each box to find what was most necessary to unpack first. a box of sanji’s that read ‘important stuff’ in his scribbly writing intrigued you the most, as you slice open the tape and reveal what’s inside.

somethings are unsurprising, a couple of framed pictures of him and his family on the baratie, his favorite cookbooks, full cartons of his favorite brand of cigarettes, and handwritten notes you had made him. when you find the correct location of which these items belonged, you stare in confusion at the one item left at the bottom of the box.

you reach down to grab the soft fabric, unbelieving of the item in your hand.

“no wonder you were resting, these boxes are pretty heavy,” sanji laughs, cracking his back as he sets down your box.

“sanji,” you pause, having to stop yourself from laughing.

he turns to you, a goofy smile on his face before noticing what you were holding. sanji’s face, now bright red from embarrassment, turns into a frown as he rips it from your hands.  

sanji stands there unimpressed as you roll onto the mattress in fits of laughter. “is that my shirt?” you manage to say, in between trying to catch your breath. “i lost that like a year ago, even before we started dating,” you laugh with tears brimming in your eyes, watching him hide his face from you.

you reach up to uncover his face, revealing a flustered sanji. you continue to giggle, leaning up to kiss his pouty lips. “want to tell me how you managed to take it from me?” you question, watching his lips fight back a smile at the memory.

“it was laundry day. i took my turn after you and you left it in the dryer…i planned to return it, i—i swear! but it smelled so good and, and i couldn’t help myself,” he admits, unable to look you in the eyes.

“is that why you took me shopping the day after?” you question, remembering his offer so long ago.

his eyes widen, realizing that he had been caught as he slowly nods his head. you shrug your shoulders, rummaging through one of your boxes behind him and pulling out one of his shirts.

“that’s okay. i stole this from your laundry too,” you giggle, showing him his own shirt.

like, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated! (✿◠‿◠)

#black leg sanji #sanji x reader #one piece x reader

[kariachi]

Have some chill fic. The team stop for lunch after work.

~~

“Um, Kev?”

“Yeah?”

“I thought we were going home?”

“After we eat.” The Tennysons shared a look as Kevin parked the car in front of a small, nondescript building on the outskirts of one the small towns they sometimes found themselves driving through. There was an outlet mall-style cheap sign on the front declaring it ‘Joe’s Pit’, picnic tables to one side with some patrons seated, and plywood cut-outs of various farm animals against the walls- one of which had ‘I’m beefalicious’ on it in a child’s scrawl. They could hear dogs barking when they stepped out onto the seemingly recently paved parking lot, and smell wood smoke lingering in the air.

Neither Ben nor Gwen seemed overly impressed.

“We have restaurants back in Bellwood, you know,” Ben pointed out as they headed for the door. Kevin just rolled his eyes.

“This place has five stars on DynaDine,” he said, “and apparently some great fucking lamb and mutton.”

“Who barbecues lamb,” Gwen asked, face screwing as she shared another look with her cousin.

“Too damn few people.”

A bell over the door rung as they entered. Maybe five tables, three of them occupied, took up most of the room, aside from a single counter in the front. The walls were covered in tin cut-outs of farm animals and equipment, photos of various people, some framed some not, and a mural in the back of a man driving a horse-drawn sleigh full of food that had very clearly originally been of Santa Claus. Some country song about gambling was playing, and a big posterboard sign behind the counter declared No Take Out. At the counter was a woman old enough to be their mothers, with a green streak in her hair and a broad grin on her face.

“Hey, how’s it going? I’m Maggie and welcome to Joe’s Pit! Eating in or heading out?”

“Oh, like he’d let food in the car,” Ben said, rolling his eyes and dodging an elbow to the side.

“Hey Maggie!” Kevin threw on a smile like there’d been no commentary. “It’s going good but, we haven’t eaten in at least an hour so…” Maggie laughed.

“Well, we can certainly fix that problem here,” she said, grabbing three paper menus out of a stack. “Any food issues going on?”

“He can’t have peanuts, I can’t have strawberries, and I keep kosher.”

“Alright.” She nodded and grabbed up a marker, popping the cap off with her teeth. “You’re not gonna want these then,” she said as she crossed various items off on one of the menus, “no pork, no dairy.”

“That’s right,” Kevin said with a nod, “and nothing off the ass half of the cow.”

“And nothing from the back end… You’re not gonna want these either, the blueberry sauce has some strawberry to balance it out and the chocolate berry strudel has ‘em too.” Handing the menu off to Kevin, she started work on a second. “And you’re gonna want to avoid some of these desserts. We don’t make ‘em on site, they’re from The Flour Shop in town- left at the third intersection on Main, right at the second turn, you’ll know it when you see it- but some of ‘em Amy likes to put peanuts in for I swear no reason at all.”

“Thanks,” Ben said as he accepted the menu, all of them chuckling. Final menu in hand, Maggie turned her attention to Gwen, who put up a hand.

“I can eat anything,” she said with a smile and a laugh from Maggie.

“Saves me some trouble then,” she said as Gwen took the paper. “You kids gonna eat in here, or sit outside?”

“Yeah, about that,” Ben said, a frown coming over his face, “do you guys have dogs?”

“Oh,” Maggie said, “don’t mind them, they’re loud but they’re friendly, and they can’t get out of their run. There should be plenty of seating away from it if you prefer.” Nodding, the Tennysons looked at each other, gesturing like they were trying to telepathically decide where they were going to sit. Kevin and Maggie watched for several seconds before he just rolled his eyes.

“We’re sitting outside.” The cousins frowned at him, visibly put out that he’d taken charge without them, while Maggie nodded.

“Alright then, I’ll be out to get your orders in a few minutes.”

“Great,” Kevin said, taking a step back that prompted the cousins to head back for the door, “thanks Maggie.”

“Not a problem.”

The bell chimed again as they left, Gwen leading the way as they hooked a hard right towards the tables.

“You know,” Ben said, eyes mostly on the paper in his hand, “I don’t think there’s a single smoothie on this menu.”

“Oh no,” came Kevin’s deadpan response, “the horror.”

True to Maggie’s word, as they entered the picnic area a fenced off spot between the tables and the pits came into view. There were three large dogs inside it, each of which could have been an example image for ‘mutt’ on Wikipedia and each of which was losing their minds barking at them. It was a point of particular focus as they scanned for a place to sit.

“So…” Gwen said, and Kevin shrugged.

“I don’t know about you guys, I like dogs.”

“So we’re sitting by them,” Ben said in a tone somewhere between teasing and griping.

“I’m sitting by them, I don’t know what you guys are doing.” With a sigh and an eye roll Gwen started for the table nearest the chainlink, Kevin smiling brightly at her.

“Why are we going along with this,” she asked.

“Because every time we stop somewhere to eat you guys outvote me,” Kevin said, “and I want lamb, so I’m vetoing your asses.” Shaking her head, she smiled back at him.

“You’re lucky I like you.”

“Trust me, I know.”

The benches on the picnic table were worn smooth, with just the slightest divots where people had sat over and over for however many years it had taken for the thing to turn grey and split at the ends. It was more comfortable than either Tennyson seemed to have expected, and they found themselves relaxing as they sat down. Helping was the fact the dogs stopped barking as soon as Kevin took a seat within arm’s length, instead falling to whining for attention and licking at his fingers as he stuck them through the fence to scratch at their muzzles.

“Don’t think I’ve had actual barbeque since I stopped playing baseball,” Ben noted as he and Gwen started properly scanning their menus. Both ignored Kevin’s sole focus on not-quite baby talking the dogs.

“Emily’s brought back leftovers from a date night one time we have a sleepover,” Gwen said, “and I think that’s the only time I’ve had it.” Face twisting, Ben gaped at her.

“How have you not had barbeque except for one time,” he said. “Kevin’s had enough to have opinions and he hasn’t had shit in life!”

“Mom doesn’t like it,” she said with a shrug. “She doesn’t even like it when dad puts barbeque sauce on grilled chicken.”

“My cousin,” Ben said, shaking his head, “has been deprived. Here-” He leaned over the table to point at an item on her menu. “-grab the combo, some ribs, some chicken, some beef.”

“No lamb,” she said with a smirk, pulling a snicker from Ben.

“If Kevin doesn’t drop some on our plates I’ll be shocked.”

“Alright, alright, I’ll get the combo. Maybe some coleslaw and macaroni. What are you grabbing?”

“I’ve never had a beef rib before, might grab that. Don’t know about sides.”

“Grab the fruit skewer,” Gwen said. Ben raised an eyebrow at her. “I just noticed it, it looks good.” Leaning back in his seat, Ben scanned the menu again.

“How about this, you get the fruit, I’ll get the macaroni, and we can all split one of this chocolate mini bundt cake they’ve got down here.”

“Sounds good to me…”

True to her word, it didn’t take too long for Maggie to come out and track them down, chuckling at Kevin’s intense focus on playing with the dogs right up until Gwen tugged on his sleeve.

“You kids ready to order or can I just get you some drinks,” she asked as Kevin finally took a look at the menu, kind enough to look to Gwen first.

“I’d like an ice tea please,” she said, “with the combo plate, some coleslaw, and one of these fruit skewers.”

“Alright,” Maggie said as she noted it down, “and what do you want on your plate? You can get up to three smoked meats.”

“Can I get the chicken quarter, some spare ribs, and some brisket?”

“Sure thing.” Ben checked the menu again as she turned to him.

“Actually, can I get the burnt ends? With two things of macaroni.”

“Yes, you can. And will you be getting a drink too?” He beamed up at her, setting his menu aside.

“Yeah, a coke’d be great.”

“Okay.” With a quick note, she turned finally to Kevin. “And are you ready?”

“I need the lamb leg,” he said with a nod, “some mutton ribs, and some brisket-”

“If I’d known he was buying the restaurant…”

“-and can I get the corn and veggie skewer for sides?” Chuckling, Maggie took down his order.

“Will those be per meat order, or do you just want the one each?”

“Per order, I’m all my money’s paying for.”

“Smart guy,” she said. “And your drink?”

“A lemonade.”

“Alright then.” Pencil in hand, she counted off everything as she listed them. “One iced tea with combo plate- chicken quarter, spare ribs, and brisket, fruit skewer and coleslaw on the side. One coke with beef ribs, two macaronis on the side. One lamb, one mutton, and one brisket, with three corn, three veggie skewers, and a lemonade. I get everything?”

“If we could have one of those mini bundt cakes too,” Ben added, “the chocolate one?”

“And one chocolate bundt cake.” Still smiling at them, Maggie waited for them all to nod approval before dropping her clipboard to her side. “Alright, I’ll have the drinks out to you in a minute, and your food’ll take a bit longer.”

“Okay,” Kevin said, Gwen quickly following with a-

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. I’ll be right back.”

Politely, they waited until she had walked away before the cousins rounded on Kevin.

“‘An hour’,” Ben said, grinning as he teased, “dude, have you eaten today?!”

“You don’t see lamb and mutton often,” came the rebuttal alongside a shrug and a smile of Kevin’s own, “I’ve gotta make the most of it.”

“We are not splitting the bill evenly this time,” Gwen laughed, “not a chance.”

“Oh yeah, the one time it’s me instead of Ben upping the charge,” Kevin said, gesturing between the two of them with feigned offense.

“He ups it by like ten bucks, you upped it by thirty.”

“At least,” Ben added, turning to Gwen. “Did you see that part of the menu? I didn’t look, because I care about not spending all our money-”

“I’m not deaf, Ben, I know you were expecting me to share.”

“You’re going to have to- three meals, you won’t be able to fit behind the wheel, we’ll be stuck here overnight.”

“You seriously underestimate me and my car.” Smiling, Gwen shook her head.

“I’m just worried you’re going to rupture something.” Grinning back, Kevin slung an arm around her shoulders and strained to watch Maggie returning with two glasses and a soda can over Ben’s head.

“Well then, you two are just gonna have to try some lamb then, aren’t you?”

~~

It was with groans of satisfaction and stomachs just on the non-painful side of stuffed that they all dropped back into the car, Kevin fitting perfectly fine despite Ben’s teasing.

“I need to bring Julie out here at some point,” Ben said as he adjusted his seatbelt, Gwen looking about ready to take a nap in front of him.

“I vote we make a bi-monthly thing,” she said, “every other week, double date, for the rest of our lives.”

In the driver’s seat, Kevin took advantage of their distraction to pull out his phone, opening up DynaDine and leaving a quick review before they got back on the road.

K11- Subscribed User, Non-Visible Mutations, Food Restrictions Friendly, accommodating service, great food, large portions, cute dogs. 5/5 must visit location. Make sure to get the lamb.

#fanfic #ben 10 #yes i'm tagging

[tomcat-tapes]

Random Top Gun AU I thought about if anyone wants a brain rot with me

LABYRINTH AU

In which Ice is Jareth the goblin king.

A young Bradley upset with the passing of his father, and refuses to want anything to do with his stepfather, Ron, or his half sibling Jake.

One evening when his Mom and Step dad are away in a date and he’s stuck babysitting his kid brother who has not stopped crying. Frustrated and stressed, Bradley tells little Jake a tale of the Goblin King, the same story he heard from his father before his passing.

“Stop it! I’ll say the words! No I mustn’t,, I wish,, Oh I can bear it no longer! Goblin King! Goblin King! Where ever you may be, take this child of mine far away from me!”

And Jake vanished, the Goblins have taken him. Bradley was mortified, he thought they were just stories his dad made up! And that’s when He appeared. The Goblin King. He refused to give Jake back, told Bradley to forget about the child but he couldn’t. Deep down Bradley knew he loved his brother, and oh god what will his parents say? He needed to get Jake back.

“You have thirteen (13) hours in which to solve the labyrinth, before your baby brother becomes one of us,,forever.”

It was a piece of cake. Bradley walked with confidence until he realized there was no openings inside the labyrinth.. luckily a nice worm told him the trick. The labyrinth is not at all as it seemed. There were stoned hands pointing in every-which direction. Bradley pulls out a marker he had stashed in his one of his pockets, this place is so confusing, he writes an arrow in the direction he’s going to keep track of where he had been. “I’m coming Jake,”

“I saw my baby, crying hard as babe could cry, what could I do? My baby’s love has gone, and left my baby blue! Nobody knew, what kind of magic spell to use.”

Among the many failings in Bradley’s journey, he did meet a short cranky Goblin with the name Jester, something he found quite odd, Hester’s were supposed to be funny and he was nothing but disdain, he was however fascinated with Bradley’s bracelets. The next goblin he met was tall, shy, and enjoyed talking to rocks and making friends, he called himself Slider.

And after a run in with a bunch of Fierys they ended up in the big of enteral stench. Where the encountered yet another Goblin. Small feisty and energetic creature that looked to be a mix of a fox and a squirrel, everyone called him Mav.

Onward the party went to the Goblin Kingdom, Jester offered Bradley a peach. Once Bradley took a bite of the peach he collapsed, and he dreamed of a glamorous ball you’d read in those fantasy books. Bradley himself was dressed in layers of flowy fabric and glitter. He laughed and he danced, smiling and never wanting to wake up from it.

“There's such a fooled heart beatin' so fast. In search of new dreams, a love that will last within your heart. I'll place the moon within your heart. As the pain sweeps through, makes no sense for you, every thrill is gone, wasn’t too much fun at all. But I’ll be there for you, as the Word falls down.”

When Bradley did awake he was in the comfort of his room with foggy memories. All his cherished possessions were there. His stuffed animals, his books, his slippers and his favorite board game. The posters and playbills lining the wall, his music box and vinyl records that he was gifted from his dad before he passed. Everything was in place and as it was, but something was wrong. A little book on his desk caught his eye, Labyrinth. The words of strength echoed in his head, “you have no power over me,” looking around. This was a distraction! He needed to get out. Tearing at the posters and walls everything crashing around him. Out, out, out!

As the hole in the wall opened, Mav and Slider were there helping him out. They quickly made it to the gates of the goblin kingdom. They came across a giant metal gollum standing guard at the gates where Jester came into the rescue to defeat it! At last inside the City! Goblin guards flooded to town to try and stop the party but thankfully with the help of Slider’s rock friends it was a breeze.

They arrive at the castle, “I need to go in alone, thank you for all of your help” “if you should ever need us, for anything at all, we’ll be here.”

Inside the castle was even more twists and turns, stairwells that were sideways, and upside down, leading to one room and out another. “JAKE!” And there baby Jake sat on the stairs giggling like he’s been having a good stay inside the caste. He doesn’t notice Bradley as he begins to crawl up the stairs. “Jake wait?!” Bradley dashes down the stairwell where he ended up on the opposite side of the room from his brother. He tried again and again to no avail as the Goblin walked along the stairs as well to watch the chaos.

Finally Bradley and The Goblin King confront each other.

“Everything that you have wanted, I have done. You asked for the child to be taken, I took him. You cowered before me, I was frightening. I have reordered time. I have turned the world upside down and I have done it all for you! I am exhausted living up to your expectations of me. Isn’t that generous?”

Bradley was quiet as he tried his best to remember the lines from his book. The same book his dad always read, the one his dad worked hard to write and publish. His favorite story.

“Through dangers untold, and hardships unnumbered. I have fought my way here to the castle, beyond the Goblin City. For my will is as strong as yours, and my-“

“STOP! Wait, look Bradley, look what I’m offering you. Your dreams.”

“And my kingdom as great.”

The Goblin King became frantic, showing Bradley an orb that held his dreams

“I ask so little. Just let me rule you, and you can have everything that you want.”

Bradley thought hard, this was the part he had trouble remembering.

“Kingdom as great,, Damn. I can never remember that line.”

“Just fear me, love, do as I say. And I will be your slave.”

King Ice demanded, he was at the end of his rope and Bradley knew it. If he could just remember the line!

“My kingdom as great,,,my kingdom as great,, you have no power over me!”

The orb was thrown up in the air. And King Ice disappeared and a snowy owl is what remained. The world began to fall into itself. Everything went black.

Bradley woke up in his bed once again. Was this another trick? Was this real? He looked aver at his shelf and noticed a bear was missing. He quickly got out of bed and stumbled down the hall to his parents room where the crib stood to the side. Peering into and seeing his baby brother, Jake, lay sleeping peacefully with the missing bear in his clutches. All is well and Bradley finally breathed easy. Turning of the lights to the room and returned to his own.

His parents arrived home and for once he didn’t feel angry for once. He tidied his room, putting the books away, and the playbills in the drawer of his desk. He sits down at the desk and stares off into near by mirror.

“Goodbye, Bradley” he saw Slider in the mirror, turning around Bradley saw nothing there. He looked back in the mirror. “And remember Master Bradley, should you need us,,” Mav said solemnly. “Yes, should you need us, for any reason at all” Jester appeared looking solemn.

“I’ll always need you, I don’t know why, but every now and again, for no reason at all. I’ll need you.”

“Well why did you say so!”

Bradley turned around in his chair again and there they were his friends and other goblins he’s met on his journey. It was the best night of his life.

There was a snowy owl that sat outside the window. Watching as the small party go down. With a subtle nod it flapped it’s wings and flew away.

The return to the Goblin Kingdom, the snowy owl formed back to King Ice, and he smiled.

“Good job everyone” he greeted, “That went perfectly, I think Nick would have been proud!”

Long ago before there was Bradley there Nick Bradshaw, he found the Goblin Kingdom and had the adventure of a life time and in the end he had asked the Goblin King to do the same for his future child. Ice had agreed, it had been a long time since a human has visited the kingdom and he delighted everyone he befriended. Not only that but he also introduced Mav, a spirited Goblin, to Ice. Helping young Nick out was the least Ice could do..

Doodles below⬇️🔮

(Ft. Wolfman and Hollywood Goblins hehe)

#top gun #top gun art #top gun 1986 #top gun maverick #icemav as dads #sorta #iceman #tom kazansky #Ice is the Goblin King #Maverick #pete mitchell #Mav is sir Didymus #he probably named his dog Goose #Slider #slider as ludo #ron kerner #Ron keener is Brad Brads step dad #carole bradshaw #jake seresin #Jake is baby Toby #jester #jester as Hoggle #the worm is viper or Duke #labyrinth #Labyrinth AU #top gun au #implied Icemav #bradley bradshaw #Nick Bradshaw wrote the labyrinth for Bradley #tomcat writes

[whatstruthgottodowithit]

A Crazy Idea [Part Two]

Fandom: Grey’s Anatomy

Pairing: Daniel Kwan x Female Reader, Jackson Avery x Female Reader, Benson Kwan x Female Reader

Characters: Daniel Kwan, Jackson Avery, Female Reader, Catherine Fox, Benson Kwan

Word Count: 1967 // Rating: Teen & Up

Summary:  Jackson’s back and he’s finding he might have been replaced in more ways than one.

Tags/ Warnings: Confessions of Love, Jealousy, Friends To Lovers, Exes, Ex Lovers, Fighting, Arguing, Operations,Past Relationships, Open Wounds,

Notes: okay so i’ve not watched the new series so I don’t know kwan that well and apparently his names changed?!? but I stuck with Daniel anyway. Hope this is okay! x

Part two as requested! 

Tags: @h-a-j-i-m-e-ru

PART ONE // PART TWO

As the elevator dinged open Y/N sighed and trudged inside. This was her fifth shift in a row and none of them had gone swimmingly. She had had train wreck patients, countless surgeries and to top it off Daniel had avoided her like the plague so she didn't know if she was coming or going with him. The only saving grace was that Jackson was still in the hospital though that was going to change today as she was sure he would be fit enough to discharge. She went to the attending's lounge and got ready for her day before she headed to her floor to get her list of patients. When she arrived Daniel was standing by the nurse's station with a plethora of charts in his hands. He was looking over one he was holding, his brow furrowed over whatever he was reading but it uncreased as she approached and stood next to him. He looked up, his face falling for a second before it quickly fell into a neutral position. 

‘Y/N,’ he greeted coolly. Y/N felt a shiver run down her spine at the indifference in his voice.  ‘Blue,’ she greeted. She wanted to say more. To tell him about the feelings she had been mulling over for the past few days but she couldn’t. He went back to charting and she could feel the nurses at the station watching them. She was sure they didn’t know anything about them but their being nosy was enough to stave off the topic.  ‘Are you on my service today?’ she asked hopefully.  ‘Yeah,’ he said, ‘I’ve already prepped the ward round. Let’s get started huh?’  ‘Yeah,’ she mumbled and then he was off walking down the corridor to their first patient making her almost have to jog to keep up. Their first couple of patients were relatively simple. He ran through their new stats and figures and examined them for her. Everything was running smoothly though there was no banter or chatter between them. 

‘I want an MRI Head for her,’ Y/N mentioned as they left Mrs Larson’s room and moseyed down the corridor. ‘ ‘But her CT didn’t show anything,’ Daniel said.  ‘I know but there’s something..off about her. I don’t know what but my guess is she’s definitely had some sort of stroke,’ Y/N said. ‘I don’t know she seemed fine to me,’ Daniel mumbled. ‘Yeah because she was flirting with you,’ Y/N giggled. ‘Oh so she must have had a stroke to be flirting with me?’ he scoffed.  ‘No, that’s not what I meant-’ Y/N started but Daniel wasn’t listening he was making a beeline into their next patient's room. Y/N sighed and entered behind him as her eyes took in her next patient. Jackson. 

He was packing things into a bag but he turned around as they entered and stopped. He pushed the bag aside and sat down on the bed as he said, ‘hey.’ ‘Hey,’ she said looking at him and then glancing at Daniel who seemed to be enthralled in the chart. She didn’t mind this. Mainly because Jackson knew all about the awkwardness that they had been having after she had acted on his words. He threw her a look and she shook her head slightly. Jackson nodded but before they could go any further Daniel spoke, ‘Jackson Avery, 41, was admitted three days ago with a hand laceration. Had debridement, wash out of the wound with a repair of damaged tendons and ligaments. Broken scaphoid and trapezium supported with a half cast to hand. Inflammatory markers improving with antibiotics.’ ‘Thanks Blue,’ Y/N said with a smile which wasn’t returned.

‘So, am I gonna be allowed to bounce today or not?’ Jackson smirked.  ‘Your mother getting on your nerves that bad huh?’ Y/N chuckled.  ‘I’m confined to one room,’ Jackson said, ‘she’s not had such an easy target in a while.’ ‘Well, let’s see,’ she said, ‘Blue do you want to assess the wound?’  ‘You don’t want to do it yourself?’ he asked with confusion and a hard edge to his tone.  ‘This is good teaching,’ Jackson said jumping in before she could speak. Daniel’s eyes narrowed but he nodded and took a seat beside the bed as Jackson held his hand out. 

‘Wound looks fine, sutures are intact,’ Daniel said.  ‘And?’ Y/N said looking at Daniel who glanced at her. ‘And?’ he said.  ‘And I’m five days post op and the sutures are on my hand,’ Jackson said.  Daniel looked at him with a sulk on his face but didn’t answer, ‘so because the skin is so thin the stitches can be removed because the healing will be complete skin deep. Jeez have you been teaching this kid or not?’ ‘I’m not a kid,’ Daniel said.  ‘I’m sure he knew it’s just slipped his mind,’ Y/N said coming towards Daniel who leapt up out of the seat.  ‘I don’t need you to defend me,’ Daniel said.  ‘I’m not,’ Y/N reasoned looking at him. ‘Course not,’ he scoffed.  ‘Hey,’ Jackson said warningly, ‘she’s just trying to help.’ ‘Well, I don't need her to. And I don’t need her pretending her students are better than they are just because she wants to impress you,’ Daniel said almost squaring up. Jackson stood up facing him the pair of them seething. 

‘She’s your superior,’ Jackson said, ‘you should show her some respect.’ ‘Guys,’ Y/N said but neither of them was taking any notice of her. ‘Oh, are you gonna make me? What are you going to do? Call your mommy,’ Daniel smirked. Then without warning, Jackson pushed Daniel hard.  Shock ran through him but as he realised what had happened he leapt forward to shove Jackson back. Y/N was in the middle of them in a flash. ‘Cool it!’ she shouted but they were only watching each other.’ ‘Do that again and I will not be held responsible for what happens to you,’ Daniel said. ‘Oh yeah,’ Jackson challenged.  ‘Blue knock it off!’ Y/N said.  ‘You’re taking his side?’ he baulked. ‘She is because you’re being a jackass,’ Jackson said. ‘I’m not taking anyone’s side,’ Y/N said with exasperation, ‘just trying to get you both to remember you’re in a hospital! You’re working and you’re a patient for god's sake. You need to knock it off.’

Her voice was loud now and it had seemingly been enough to draw attention as a nurse appeared at the door wondering what was happening, ‘everything okay?’  ‘Fine Sarah,’ Y/N said.  ‘Yeah peachy,’ Daniel said moving out of the way. Sarah nodded and left the door but Daniel was soon behind her.  ‘Where are you going?’ Y/N asked.  ‘What do you care?’ he said and then he was gone. When she turned around Jackson was watching her with a stony expression.

‘You're a terrible best friend, you know that?’ she said as she shoved him down onto the bed, sitting down on the chair in front of him. ‘Me?!’ he scoffed as she started to set up a tray to remove his stitches ‘Yeah, you,’ she said as she wiped his hand clean, ‘you know we’ve been having problems.’ ‘And that’s my fault how? He was being childish,’ Jackson said.  ‘And you shoved him!’ Y/N said shrilly.  ‘Because he was being rude! You don’t deserve that. In front of me or anyone.’ ‘I don’t think he would've done it in front of anyone else,’ she said truthfully, ‘I think he’s a little jealous.’ ‘What he thinks you're in love with me?’ Jackson said. She hadn’t exactly told him that part of the story. ‘No,’ she said, ‘but he knows we’re close. And lately, he and I haven't been.’ ‘Because he confessed his undying love and you didn't say anything,’ Jackson smirked. ‘No! I just…I just wasnt ready for it then. And he’s avoided me ever since. I mean I wasn’t going to tell him I love him at the nurse's station was I?’  ‘You love him?’ Jackson asked. Y/N looked at him startled. She hadn't even noticed the words had come out of her mouth but the more they ran through her brain the more she confirmed it. She did love him. She hadn’t seen it before. They’d always been close but since he had started working at the hospital it had shifted and subconsciously she had held back, scared it would ruin everything. 

‘Yeah, I do,’ she said with a small smile.  ‘Then what are you doing here then?’ Jackson asked.  ‘You’re hand,’ she started but he shook his head.  ‘I can take these sutures out myself,’ he said, ‘as long as you promise I can go home I’ll do anything…I’d probably do a better job anyway.’ ‘Har har,’ Y/N said standing up. ‘So I can go home?’ Jackson said.  ‘Sure can. I’ll tell the nurses later,’ she said giving him a quick hug, ‘I’ve got more important stuff to do.’

Jackson nodded and watched as she took off into the corridor in the second search for Daniel. That first day she hadn’t found him but today she was determined. She looked everywhere until it dawned on her where he might be. Finally, she ended up in the basement corridor and found him sitting on the discarded beds that lined it. He looked up as she entered and scowled but he didn’t move as she came to sit beside him. They were silent for a moment before she said, ‘are you okay?’

‘What do you care?’ he asked. ‘I do care,’ she sighed, ‘you know I do.’ ‘Just not as much as I want?’ he questioned looking at her before his eyes turned to his hands which were resting on his knees. ‘You don’t know what I want,’ she said. He looked at her confused but didn't speak which made her sigh, ‘you never gave me a chance Blue. I broached the topic because I was blind. So blind. And Jackson opened my eyes-’ ‘Good old Jackson Avery,’ he scoffed. ‘Yes! Good old Jackson Avery because he pointed out what was blatantly obvious. You have feelings for me. And I’d ignored it because we’ve been friends forever and I didn’t want to ruin anything. But since he pointed it out I realised that I feel the same. And I’m sorry that it wasn’t the big love story you wanted when you said what you said. I’m sorry that I couldn’t be on your level right away but that doesn’t mean I'm not there now.’ ‘How do I know that’s true? That you’re not just forcing yourself to feel that way?’ he said with sadness lacing his voice. ‘Because you told me that the idea of us isn’t that crazy to you. And you’re right. It’s not crazy. It’s right…natural,’ she said, ‘I want to try this Blue. 100%. And if it doesn’t work out then fine…because I never want to lose you. Either way.’

Daniel seemed to take in her words for a moment and then he leaned in and kissed her gently. Her hands cupped his face as she kissed him back. A flutter ran through her stomach as he held her close. Then his pager sounded. He sighed and pulled back with a frown as he pulled it out of his pocket and looked at it.

‘Sorry,’ he said, ‘duty calls.’ ‘I get it,’ she said, ‘come on we’ll go together.’ ‘Okay,’ he said as they climbed off the bed. As they started to walk he slipped his hand into hers causing her to look up at him with a smile.  ‘Sorry we wasted our first kiss,’ he said. ‘I don't think you can waste a kiss,’ she replied, ‘not when it’s worth the wait.’

#my writing #a crazy idea #daniel kwan #daniel kwan x reader #daniel kwan fic #blue kwan #daniel blue kwan #benson kwan x reader #benson kwan fic #benson kwan #jackson avery #greys anatomy #greys anatomy fic #requested #requested fic

[janjmoz]

Alboloduy to Abla

29.7km in 7 hours walking time and about 850m of elevation.

We started out around 7:30am and we’re happy with our early start. We walked out of town on roads and then spent a short period on the river bed before doing a lovely off road climb that gave us beautiful views.

We were then on a mainish road for a little while (still walking up hill). We knew we had to turn off the road and a couple of errant arrows sent us in a goose chase that cost us about 20-30 minutes, our nice early start has been canceled out 🙄

Back on the right path we stopped at a picnic area for a cuppa and a snack. The path was quite nice from there and we entered a private property and followed a dirt road through it, eventually leaving it and heading into the river bed.

Most of the rest of the day was spent walking in the river bed. At times it was quite loose underfoot which made for heavy going.

We stopped in Nacimiento for a cold drink and some food where we met up with the Madrileño 4 and heard we were not the only ones to go astray off the road.

Our next stop was in Dona Maria where we had a picnic lunch before striking out to get this day finished. I have to say this afternoon has been hard yards and not particularly picturesque.

A high point was seeing the Sierra Nevada again and finding we are now officially in that region. Another high point was passing the 50km mark. The marker is somewhat confusing as you could be forgiven for thinking you have 50km to go, where in fact at that point we had 167km left of this first stage and 1,332km to Santiago.

The last 2+km into Abla was on road and the albergue (apparently that is the correct name, not hostal) was at the furthest and highest (at least it felt like) point of the town. The albergues are donated by the local councils and I think nobody wanted to have to trudge all the way up here so they gave it to the Camino foundation.

We are re-encountering some of the same people along the way. I’ll introduce them over the next few posts. Also some of the albergues are manned by hospitaleros who volunteer to run the albergue usually for a 2 week stint. The whole thing is run by an amazing network of hugely passionate volunteers.

Tonight was dinner in the albergue again. It’s always simple but pleasant - salad and then lentils with vegetables, etc and possibly fruit for dessert. Tonight we also had some red wine. Conversation is interesting as it’s a mix of Spanish, French and English. Last night there were also a delightful couple of older German ladies, but they have stopped in Nacimiento tonight.

All in all we’re loving being pilgrims though looking forward to having a room of our own in a few nights time.

[romaine2424]

Eight Days A Week (Chapter 11) is Up

Note: Additional Tags have been added to the story. If you have any questions, DM me here on Tumblr.

Chapter Summary:

Harry goes across the pond as an exchange Auror. He's introduced to NYC in summer in a very rude way! Meets his new Chief and other exchange Aurors. Libby has an unexpected patient her last week before starting the Alchemy program. Kreacher has a going away present for Harry. And Libby comes to visit Harry.

Excerpt:

Harry’s eyes opened with startlement. There was someone knocking on a door. It took him a few moments to remember where he was and that it was probably his bedroom door being knocked on. “Yes,” he said as he rose to a sitting position and shook his head. He glanced at the clock. It was six. The sky was still bright but grey and white.

“Harry, it’s Ryoko. We’re having dinner downstairs; would you like to join?”

“Er…Yes, sure. Be right down,” Harry responded. He blinked his eyes repeatedly, still feeling disoriented. It struck him that Ryoko must be the Auror from Japan but that she spoke perfect English. After brushing his teeth and splashing his face with cold water he left his room and stepped down the small hallway to the stairs. He scrambled down the two flights.

“Good evening, sorry to be late,” Harry said as he entered the dining room. The round table that sat six was topped with dishes he didn’t recognise but it smelled wonderful. “Wow, who cooked?”

“That would be me,” said the wizard with dark skin in an English accent Harry wasn’t familiar with. “I’m Dembe…from Uganda.”

Harry sat down in the seat waiting for him. “How…how do you and Ryoko speak perfect English?” They all laughed. Harry looked around not getting the joke.

“English is my country’s official language. Your home country, Auror Potter, colonised mine until the 1960s.” Harry grimaced. “My native language, is Luganda, which is what I use when I cast spells.”

“The house is charmed to translate. I hear you in Japanese and you hear me in English,” the witch Harry now understood to be Ryoko said. Her short, bobbed hair was silky black and her brown eyes soft. “It extends to the garden and to the bottom of the front stoop.”

“That—that’s fantastic,” Harry blurted out. “Well, again, sorry I’m late. I fell asleep. I’m Harry, from the UK…England…coloniser of Uganda, which I apologise for.” Dembe nodded and gave Harry a generous smile.

The wizard next to Harry turned and spoke next. Harry had to blink; he hadn’t been struck by such a good-looking man since Bill Weasley. Harry wasn’t sure if it was the golden tone to his skin, his large chocolate brown eyes or the tattooed black stripes on the side of his face. “I’m Roberto from Brazil.” Harry nodded.

“Reine from France,” the blond witch next to Roberto said.

“Dembe,” the wizard from Uganda repeated.

“And I’m Carla from Germany,” the witch sitting to his left said. Harry noted that she like the other two witches all had short haircuts. Carla’s was grey with lavender streaks.

“We should eat,” Dembe said. “My mama and my aunties will expect a report back later tonight,” he added with a laugh. “They insisted I bring the first meal. We had a large feast last night with family and friends. Mama and aunties wanted me to share it with my new friends.”

Harry felt a current run through him as Dembe talked so openly with a large generous smile. Something struck him deep. New friends. Harry couldn’t remember the last time he’d met new magical friends. This night he put down a marker in his brain would be one to remember.

Read More:

Eight Days A Week (Chapter 11) on AO3

#eight days a week #romaine2424 fics #transfem draco #transitioning #drarry #drarry fic

[alketaire]

i would appreciate a Peep 👀 at the guide if/when u are ready 2 share it… always have trouble w/ the start of DSC rip

It's ugly as hell and I still need to make a callout map but do you mean the Sparrow part or Security? Because survey says both suck ass for everyone, but I've gotten it written up:

[thing] is a marker for an image I’m going to put in later, but I’ve added a couple of links for now.

[shelter bubble] Desolation The airlock will open into a large peach-coloured bubble on a glacial cliff surrounded by an intense blizzard. Six pikes are sitting around the bubble. There's no harm in using them, but you may be better served by using your Sparrow until you're very familiar with this section. It's a navigation challenge. [map] From overhead, it looks fairly simple, but on the ground, you need to use faint lights and barely-visible landmarks to go from bubble to bubble. When you're outside the bubbles, you'll gain stacks of a debuff called Frostbite that will tick up once every couple of seconds. Once it hits ×10, you die. Standing in a bubble will grant the Shelter from the Storm buff, which removes a stack of Frostbite every half-second. Urgency is added by the numerous Web Mines strewn along the path, which detonate instantly and slow you to a crawl for four seconds. [tower and lights] If you're trying to find the right route on your own, your best bet is to peer through the storm for the dim lamps that roughly line the path and the spiky towers that stand over each bubble. It will still likely take some trial and error, since there are lots of errant ice outcrops, mines, and bottomless pits in your way. [Dark Council Guards] From the third bubble onwards, the first player to reach the bubble will be met with a wave of Dregs and a handful of Dark Council Guards. Clearing these enemies secures that bubble as your respawn point should you die on the next leg of the journey, so it's worth it to stop and clear them out at each bubble. Once you get to the seventh and final bubble, you'll also have to defeat two Brigs that guard the airlock to the next area. [Secret chest] If this is your first DSC run, you can ignore this chest; it's a bonus that drops extra copies of guns or armour you've already picked up from this raid. When you want to find it, look back towards the direction of the previous bubble, then hug the cliff on your left. You'll see a couple of ledges to jump up on around the far side of that cliff, then you'll need to jump way up to get to the crevice where the chest is hidden. You can then jump back down to the bubble through the other end of the crevice.

[Security] Crypt Security The room looks pretty tubular when you first enter it. The other half of the room is studded with server-tower-looking pillars. In the centre of the far side of the glass wall are two sets of three tough glass cylinders with large fuses inside. There is also a sub-level with a number of tubes, server pillars, and small panels. The light side, dark side, and the sub-level feature a central, glowing yellow terminal with a red symbol hovering inside it. Interacting with any of these terminals will start the encounter and give the player who interacted with it the “Operator Augment” buff. If you've played the Exotic mission in Season of the Seraph, this – and the Scanner Augment that will come up a little further into the encounter – may be familiar to you. If not, now is the best time to get to know them. [shower] Augments Augments are buffs that can be acquired in the combat encounters of the DSC raid, rarely in patrol zones on Europa, or in the exotic quest “Operation: Seraph's Shield.” Each type of Augment grants a particular ability to the player holding it, and can be easily differentiated at a glance by the colour and shape of the icon in the lower left of the screen or over the head of the character holding the Augment. [Hacker Vandal] Augments can be acquired either by interacting with an Augment Terminal that already contains one or by picking it up off the ground after the death of the Vandal or player who was holding it. Augment Terminals are connected to all other Terminals in an encounter, and can be used to transfer Augments between players; putting an Augment into a Terminal will allow another player to pick it up from any Terminal. However, there can only be one Augment in the Terminal system at any given time. If a player puts the Operator Augment into a Terminal, for example, another player cannot put the Scanner Augment into any of the Terminals until someone else takes the Operator Augment out. Augment Terminals can be temporarily deactivated by Sentinel Servitors, and reactivate when the Sentinels are all killed. [Operator, panel] Operator Augment The red Operator Augment enables the player holding it to activate a particular type of panel or remove specific debuffs (with bullets, of course). The panels often trigger events such as opening a door or making an enemy vulnerable. All panels and objects that can be activated by the Operator will be covered in a red glow that pops in a red bubble when the Operator shoots it. [Scanner, panel] Scanner Augment The Scanner Augment allows the player holding it to see objects that need to be activated or enemies that need to be attacked; the Scanner will then typically communicate to the rest of the team what objects or enemies are, to the Scanner only, covered in a yellow glow. [map] The objective of this encounter is to destroy the fuses that are currently protected by glass; ranged DPS like Xenophage will pop them in no time. To open the glass, a player with the Operator Augment needs to shoot four of the ten panels on the sub-level; players on each side of the upper level with the Scanner Augment can tell the Operator which panels they need to shoot. Once the correct panels are shot and the glass shields withdraw, the Scanner Augment needs to be passed downstairs so that the player on the sub-level can see which fuse needs to be destroyed first. Once all six fuses are destroyed, the encounter is done. [fuses] Once a player picks up the Operator Augment from the Terminal, all of the doors on the upper level will shut, so the other five players should divide up between the light (tubes) and dark (servers) side of the upper level. The Operator is the only player who can open the doors on the far side of the room to access the sub-level. You might assume that the Operator-to-be could save time and just pick up the Augment from the Terminal on the sub-level, but unfortunately, the sub-level is prone to being on fire after the encounter starts. It is on fire for several seconds at the start of the encounter, it will light on fire if the Operator shoots the wrong panel, and if the Operator takes more than a minute to shoot the correct panels, it will be – surprise! – on fire. [Scanner slam] Therefore, the rest of the team upstairs needs to work fast. Shortly after the start of the encounter, a Hacker Vandal with a big yellow Scanner icon over its head will spawn on the dark side of the room. A player needs to pick it up and look through the windows scattered around on the floor to see which two of the five panels on the dark side are glowing yellow. They then need to call out those two panels as they make way to the Terminal in the middle to put in the Scanner Augment so that a player on the light side of the room can take it from their Terminal, find the two correct panels on the light side, and call them out. [fuse below] When the Operator has successfully shot the last correct panel, a notification in the lower left will tell the team that the fuses are now unshielded. The Operator must then dunk their Augment in the Terminal, where a non-Scanner should be waiting to pick it up and allow the Scanner on the upper level to dunk their Augment so that the player on the sub-level can pick it up. The player on the sub-level then needs to look at the six mini-fuses visible near the top of the central round pillar nearby; each one corresponds to a fuse upstairs. If the players upstairs shoot the wrong fuse, it explodes and wipes the team after a few seconds. The player on the sub-level needs to call out which fuse is glowing (e.g. “light mid,” “dark left”) so that the players upstairs can destroy it. [Sentinel] Lots of adds, a few Dark Council Guards, and a couple of Overload Captains will spawn on the upper level. The lower level will have only a handful of adds for the Operator to deal with. Throughout the encounter, Sentinel Servitors will spawn on one side or the other of the upper level and shut down the Augment Terminal system. Keep an eye out and make ending them a priority unless you're busy popping fuses. After all the fuses are destroyed, pickup your loot by the door on the far corner of the room from the entrance and head on down the hallway to the next encounter.

#d2 #destiny

[infinity0nhigh]

“A daydream spills from my corked head / Breaks free of my wooden neck / Left a nod over sleeping waves / Like bobbing bait for bathing cod / Floating flocks of candled swans / Slowly drift across wax ponds” “…we’re all too small to talk to God. yeah, we’re all too smart to talk to God.”

Spent most of last night dragging this lake for the corpses of all my past mistakes / Sell me out, joke’s on you / we are salt, and you are the wound”

“We all carry these things inside that no one else can see / they weigh us down like anchors, they drown us out at sea / I look up to the sky, there may be nothing there to see / but if I don’t believe in him, why would he believe in me?”

“They say the captain goes down with the ship, so when the world ends, will God go down with it?”

“I saw her with her hands tied back / And her rags were burning / Crawling out from a landfilled life / Scrawlin' her name upon the ceiling / Throw a coin in a fountain of dust / White noise, her ears are ringing / Got a ticket for a midnight hanging / Throw a bullet from a freight train leaving”

“Walking to the other side / with the devil trying to take my mind / and my soul’s just a silhouette, from the ashes of a cigarette. Sometimes, the jail can’t chain the cell / and the rain’s too plain to tell / all alone by a barren well / Scarecrow’s only scaring himself”

“Stretched to the limit, attention spans snap back, retract, collapse in the laugh tracks / Noise response, applause and hand claps / floodgates open to the sound of the rainbow / Breaking point’s on the verge of pointless / Fools anointed to the followers’ fanfare / Look for the common, not superficial / Code Red cola spurns conformity crisis / Perfunctory idols rewriting their Bibles, with magic markers running out of their ink / Lives in White-Out, turn the lights out / fax machine anthem’s got their hands up”

“Wishes bounce me weightless / the infrared scope on pointlessness / the bulls are sedated, and this fight’s fixed”

“I love everything about you that hurts, so lemme see your moves / lips pressed close to mine, true blue” “Trade baby blues for wide-eyed browns, I sleep in your old shirts and walk through this house in your shoes. I know it’s strange. It’s the strangest way of saying ‘I know I’m supposed to love you.’”

“It’s these substandard motels on the corner of Fourth and Fremont Street / appealing only ‘cause they’re just that unappealing / any practiced Catholic would cross themselves upon entering / The rooms have a hint of asbestos and maybe just a dash of formaldehyde / and the habit of decomposing right before your very eyes… along with the people inside / What a wonderful caricature of intimacy”

“When the moon fell in love with the sun, all was golden in the sky. All was golden when the day might the night.” “When the sun found the moon, she was drinking tea in a garden, under the green umbrella trees in the middle of summer. When the moon found the sun, he looked like he was barely hanging on, but her eyes changed his life in the middle of summer.”

“Give us this day our daily dose of faux affliction. Forgive our sins, forged at the pulpit, with forked tongues selling false sermons. / Because I am a new wave gospel sharp, and you’ll be thy witness / so gentlemen, if you’re gonna preach / for God’s sake, preach with conviction.”

“I’m breaking my teeth off trying to bite my lip. And there’s all kinds of redheaded women that I ain’t supposed to kiss. And it’s this color that never fails to turn me blue. So I just swallow it and hold onto it, and use it to scare the hell out of you.”

“Sister, I’m not much a poet, but a criminal, and you never had a chance.”

“I’m casually obsessed, and I’ve forgiven death. I am indifferent yet, I am a total wreck. I’m every cliché, but I simply do it best.” “Went to sleep a poet, and I woke up a fraud. To calm your nerves, I’m feeling for my clothes in the dark.”

“The next time the phone can wring my neck, it gets no answer. And the time that I spent telling it my roots; I’m shaking in my boots. But still it looks at me like an old friend I’ve betrayed. The dark side of the doormat is the one your shoes have frayed.”

“I’ll be stuck fixated on one star when the world is crashing down.”

“You claimed all this time that you would die for me. Why then, are you so surprised when you hear your own eulogy?”

“I fell from the heavens as a fetish blessed with an operatic skeleton. And as the stars watched me descend, I cracked a family tree and, broke off all the branches.”

…are some of my favorite lyrics.

[gonzo-rella]

Inadequate (pt. 1) | Jamie Tartt (ft. Keeley Jones)

MASTERLIST | AO3 | KO-FI

PART 1, PART 2 

Relationship(s): Jamie Tartt x insecure!gn!reader (romantic), Keeley Jones x insecure!gn!reader (platonic)

Summary: When comparing yourself to the people around you, you always seem to fall short. After all, your role of Rebecca’s personal assistant is hardly something to brag about. That’s why Jamie Tartt asking you out takes you by surprise, and leads you to needing Keeley’s support.

Warnings: Swearing, descriptions of food/eating, mentions of extreme insecurity, references to alcohol consumption/getting drunk. (Let me know if I need to add any)

Word count: 2.2k

(A/N: I based a lot of this on my own feelings, but hopefully it’s something that people who aren’t me can relate to.)

Considering she was Jamie’s ex-girlfriend, perhaps you should have thought twice before you asked Keeley to have lunch with you to talk about what had happened. But, in your defence, Keeley was always the best person to have around in these kinds of situations.

You were sat opposite one another in a cafe, your partially-eaten toasties in hand and your steaming cups of tea sitting in front of you. Keeley’s curious gaze was almost searing as she watched you stare at your lap.

“Babes, are you actually gonna tell me what happened?” Keeley asked, covering her mouth because she was still chewing. “You’re freaking me out a bit.”

“Oh, sorry.” you apologised, finally looking up at her. “I didn’t say anything weird without realising it, did I?”

She shook her head as she swallowed the mouthful of toastie she’d been eating.

“No, it’s just...usually, you never really give a shit, you know?” Keeley explained. “But, right now you’re giving more shits about whatever Jamie said to you than me when I got food poisoning two years ago.”

“Thanks for that one, Keels.” you muttered, nose scrunched up a bit.

“Yeah, well, you get the point.” Keeley said, taking another bite of her toastie. “So, what the hell did Jamie say to you to make you literally run away from him? Tell Auntie Keeley.”

You looked down at your lap again, glanced back up at Keeley for a moment, then finally settled on fixing your eyes on your tea.

---------

You made your way to Ted’s office, the box of whiteboard markers Rebecca had asked you to deliver to him in your hand.

Fortunately or unfortunately (depending on how you looked at it), your journey involved walking through a locker room full of half-dressed footballers, who, amidst raucous laughter, chanted your name jokingly, as was their unofficial tradition when you walked by. It was reminiscent of being a shy kid in secondary school who had won the favour of a group of popular kids.

You entered Ted’s office without knocking.

“Rebecca told me to bring you these pens.” you said, going to place them on his desk.

Ted held his hands up, indicating he was ready to catch the box that you had no intention of throwing to him.

“There was a reason I didn’t do GCSE PE.” you stated, quickly realising he probably had no idea what a GCSE was.

“C’mon,” Ted said, readying his hands to catch the box. “Come at me.”

You huffed in defeat and threw the box at Ted, and he miraculously caught it. Despite the fact you were less than 2 metres apart, you were quite surprised that you’d managed to throw it without failing spectacularly, and settled on calling it an achievement.

“I suppose rounders club in primary school really payed off, eh?” you joked, once again realising you were using a term that would have been unfamiliar to the American coach. “Anyway, I’ll be off. Good luck with practice.”

“See ya, N/N.” Ted called after you as you left.

You walked back through the locker room, relieved to no longer be the focus of the team, who were now chatting amongst themselves as they tied their laces, pulled up their socks and yanked their shirts over their heads.

An even greater relief flooded over you as you stepped outside, the kind of feeling you get after leaving a game of dodgeball unscathed.

“Oi, Y/N.” a familiar Mancunian voice called out to you. You turned around and found Jamie Tartt jogging over to you, walking in the opposite direction to his teammates, something that only some of them had realised at this point.

“Jamie? What’s up?” you asked, glancing between him and the other Richmond players, half of whom were now looking at the pair of you. Even Ted, Coach Beard, Roy and Nate were watching. You noticed Nate saying something to Ted, only to be ignored.

Being watched like this caused an inferno to spread across your cheeks, and you wondered what Jamie had to say.

He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. You folded your arms and furrowed your brows.

“Are you alright?” you questioned.

He swallowed his saliva.

“Yeah, yeah. Fine.” he stated dismissively. “I just...”

An uneasy feeling settled in the pit of your stomach. You hadn’t seen Jamie like this before. Usually, what was on his mind rolled off his tongue like a ball down a hill, but whatever he had to say wasn’t leaving his lips with such ease, leading you to believe it was something significant, something so big that it had gotten caught in his throat.

“If you can’t say it, you don’t have to keep trying.” you tried with an awkward shrug. “And, it looks like everyone’s waiting for-”

“I really like you.” Jamie blurted. “It’s not because I think you’re fit. I mean, you’re still pretty fit, but, like, I dunno, I like who you are too, probably more than how you look. That doesn’t always happen for me.”

You stared blankly at him. Your mind felt empty, or maybe too full to function. His words ricocheted against the walls of your skull in a rhythm that matched your frantic heartbeat. The childish, or perhaps even primal, instinct to run overtook you, and before you knew what you were doing you had turned around and legged it.

This was probably one of the few times so far in your adult life that you had actually ran, which showed in the lack of grace in how you moved, the lack of speed in your sprint and the fact that you had begun to run out of breath alarmingly quickly. You had no desire to find out how many grown adults had just seen your embarrassing attempt at running, so your eyes remained fixed ahead of you.

The cold morning air no longer hit your face as you made it inside, but you received a number of puzzled glances as you stood Blair Witch style staring at the wall, trying to get your breathing back to normal.

The walk back to Rebecca’s office was a slow one. As you walked, you pulled out your phone. ‘Fancy going out to lunch later?’ you texted Keeley.

‘Sure,’ she texted back. ‘You can tell me what’s wrong when we’re there.’

---------

“Oh,” Keeley said, eyes wider than you’d ever seen them. “Wow.”

“‘Oh shit’, more like.” you commented drily. “Not only did Jamie Tartt tell me he fancies me, I ran away from him like he’d just threatened me with a bloody machete.”

“Yeah, that is pretty bad, isn’t it?” Keeley replied, face scrunched up awkwardly. “Do you usually do that when people tell you they fancy you?”

“I don’t usually have people telling me they fancy me,” you answered. “Especially people like Jamie Tartt.”

“Why do you keep calling him by his full name?” Keeley questioned with narrowed eyes.

“Well, he’s a footballer.” you shrugged. “You don’t call David Beckham ‘Dave’, do you?’”

“Yeah, but you’re better mates with Jamie than David Beckham.” Keeley replied.

“I wouldn’t exactly call Jamie a ‘mate’.” you said.

“You got pissed with him a couple of weeks ago, right?” Keeley pointed out. “Surely that bumped him up to ‘mate’ status?”

You looked at her, bewildered.

“Is that how you measure friendship?” you questioned. “How do those teetotal people make friends, then?”

Keeley huffed in mild frustration, tapping her index finger against the table irritably.

“I just mean it’s not like you’ve never spent any time with him outside of work.” Keeley said. “Plus, I’ve gotten drunk with you enough times to know you’re way more friendly and open when you’re hammered. He deffo thinks you’re mates after that.”

“Of course he thinks we’re mates after....” you quickly trailed off, though ‘after’ was enough to dig yourself at least a shallow grave.

Keeley sat up excitedly, an eager smile tugging at her lips.

“Oh my God!” she exclaimed, earning a couple of glances from some of the other customers. “I knew you were lying when you said nothing happened! Did you guys shag or something?”

“No!" you practically hissed. 

“Kiss?” Keeley asked hopefully.

“No.” you answered more calmly.

“Did you let him hug you?” Keeley demanded. “No fair! You never let me hug you.”

“No, I didn’t hug him,” you sighed. “And, for the record, I’ve let you hug me...at least seven times.”

“Then, what happened?” she asked with knitted brows, disregarding the latter part of what you had said.

You sighed in exasperation, knowing you’d end up having to tell her sooner or later.

“We went back to my flat.” you revealed. “We ended up talking until the morning. We were both sober by about 4, but we kept talking until we both had to head off for work. 

“I haven’t talked like that with anyone in ages.”

Keeley beamed at you, which caused you scrunch up your nose.

“No, no. Please don’t smile like that.” you said, which only caused her smile to grow.

“Why not?” Keeley replied innocently. “That’s legit the cutest thing I’ve heard at least all week.”

“You do realise that we’re talking about your ex boyfriend?” you said emphatically, expecting her to be at least a bit annoyed with you.

“Yeah, my ex boyfriend.” Keeley retorted. “I’m with Roy now. I’m not bothered what Jamie gets up to, even if it’s with one of my besties.”

“Well, there’s nothing to be bothered about,” you insisted dully, now refusing to make eye contact with Keeley. “And there won’t ever be anything to be bothered about.”

You felt the warmth of Keeley’s confused and concerned stare.

“Huh? What do you mean?” she asked. “He’s told you he fancies you. All you need to do is explain to him that you Usain Bolted away from him because you were nervous or something and that...”

She paused for a moment, looking at you as though she were analysing your face.

“You do fancy him, right?” Keeley questioned.

“It doesn’t matter whether or not I fancy him.” you returned. “I’d rather be...suffocated by my own feelings than be with Jamie Tartt.”

Keeley looked deep in thought for a moment, as though she were solving a difficult maths problem, but she ended up looking back at you.

“I don’t get it.” Keeley said with a soft shake of her head. “He fancies you. I’m 95% sure you fancy him. What’s the problem?”

“Oh, God,” you grimaced. “I’m gonna have to say it and look like a mega emo, aren’t I?”

Keeley still looked confused, much to your chagrin. 

She just didn’t get it. 

You couldn’t blame her for not getting it. Being Keeley Jones, one of the fittest women you’d ever met (as well as a former model), was vastly different to being you, a fairly average-looking PA. The problems you each dealt with when it came to dating were vastly different, and you each had to worry about vastly different things.

The thought of explaining these problems to Keeley was mortifying, but you decided that telling her the truth would save her a bit of worrying.

“I’m not the sort of person that footballers are supposed to go out with. I know it. Everyone else knows it.” you explained. “It doesn’t matter how much I like Jamie because I don’t think I could deal with any of that.”

Keeley pouted and looked at you sadly. She reached across the table and held your wrist reassuringly.

“Come on, babes, don’t be so down on yourself.” Keeley argued. “All that should matter is how you and Jamie feel about each other. Just ignore all the judgemental tossers.”

“It’s not just everyone else who’s the problem.” you sighed. “I don’t feel like I’m…good enough for Jamie.”

“There shouldn’t be a ‘good enough'.” Keeley countered. “Not when you’re both decent people who obviously like each other. If he wasn’t interested in you, he wouldn’t have asked you out.”

“Alright, maybe that’s true, but saying it doesn’t change anything in my head.” you said, trying your best to not sound rude.

Keeley looked at you silently, her heart sinking at your words. She realised that, no matter what she had to say, she couldn’t change how you felt about yourself. Perhaps no one could change how you felt about yourself.

“If you've already figured out what you want to do, then why’d you ask me out to lunch?” Keeley quizzed.

“Because, I wanted you to tell me I’m being a colossal arsehole.” you admitted. “I deserve it.”

“You’re not a colossal arsehole. It’s not like Jamie’s entitled to you or anything.” Keeley contended. “I just don’t think it’s all that healthy to deny yourself happiness like this just because you’re insecure.”

“It’s not just about me being insecure. There’s other stuff.” you returned. “I know what kind of a guy Jamie used to be. I mean, when you were dating him, he cheated on you, and you’re the sort of woman everyone who wants a girlfriend would want as a girlfriend. If he felt the need to cheat on you, why wouldn’t he cheat on me?”

“He’s changed, N/N,” Keeley said. “He really has.”

“I know he has,” you sighed. “And I feel like a right twat not giving him a chance. But...it just won’t work. People like me and people like him aren’t supposed to be together. What’s the point in even trying if I know it’s just not gonna work out?”

She could tell you were holding back, at least to an extent. This was only the tip of the iceberg, and she could tell that this wasn’t an easy choice for you to make. It wasn’t like you were overjoyed at the prospect of rejecting Jamie.

Keeley was pretty depressed after hearing all of this: you, on the other hand, didn’t seem sad (to Keeley’s surprise). More than anything, you were demoralised and jaded by the reality you believed you were trapped in.

“Bloody hell, that got a bit bleak, didn’t it?” you said in a light tone upon seeing Keeley’s somber face. She didn’t say anything. You glanced at your phone. 

“I think we’d best get going in a sec.” you tried.

“Yeah.” Keeley responded, forcing a smile. “Let’s head off.”

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt #keeley jones x reader #keeley jones #ted lasso x reader #ted lasso #x reader #x gn!reader #gn!reader #gender neutral!reader #romantic #platonic

[blue-eyed-cutiepatootie]

I’ll Always Take Care of You

wc 994 destiel, established relationship, fluff

Cas and Dean are in bed. They’ve brushed their teeth and put pajamas on. Cas is crocheting a scarf for Jack so they can match with the one Cas made last year. Dean is reading a fantasy adventure novel that Claire recommended.

Or he’s trying to read. He keeps rubbing at his eyes and whining. The whining itself doesn’t really bother Cas, but Dean’s discomfort does. 

“Dean, did you take your allergy pill this morning?”

Dean scrubs his hand over his face before letting his head hit the headboard with a thump. 

“Yes, but my eyes still itch like crazy.” Dean glances over and Cas pauses his work to squeeze his arm in support. 

Dean refocuses on his book and lasts another two minutes before rubbing at his eyes again. Cas finishes the row he had started on the scarf, marks his place with a stitch marker, and sets his work in the basket by his nightstand. He quietly gets up and glances at Dean who is trying his best to continue reading with puffy, irritated eyes. 

Dean’s seasonal allergies have worsened this year, so a week ago Cas had done some research and ordered a “Moist Heat Eye Compress” that was supposed to help hydrate dry eyes in a more natural way. Dean hates using eye drops so Cas thought this might be a good supplement. Not that he’s mentioned the compress to Dean yet. 

After reading the instructions on the tag, Cas put the compress in the microwave for 25 seconds. The directions said not to exceed 30 seconds, as the compress would be too hot but Cas figured it would cool down while he convinced Dean to try it. Turning the kitchen light off, he pads back to the bedroom with the compress. As he enters the room, Dean is once again rubbing at his eyes with the back of his hand and looking miserable. 

Stopping at Dean’s side of the bed, Cas gently pulls the book from his other hand. 

“Hey, I was reading that!” Dean grumbles, irritation flickering across his face. Cas just starts walking over to his own side of the bed. He picks up an old grocery list from his nightstand to mark Dean’s place in the book before situating himself next to Dean, propped up against the headboard. 

“Come here,” Cas says, pulling Dean down until his head was resting on Cas’s lap. 

“I know your eyes have been bothering you more lately so I thought we could try this moist heat eye compress treatment.” Dean scoffs as Cas holds up the mask. “You wear this warm compress over your eyes for 10 minutes and it helps rehydrate your eyes. Then they’ll itch less.”

Dean scowls up at Cas, his face flushing. “Babe, you know I don’t like not being able to see…”

Cas’s chest tightens at Dean’s suddenly small voice. He trails his fingers through Dean’s hair. “I know. But I’ll be right here. I’ll even read your book to you. Please just try it once. If you’re uncomfortable, we’ll stop immediately.” He knew he was pressing his luck, but thankfully Dean’s face relaxed. 

“You’ll stay the whole time?”

Cas nods. He knows the dark reasons behind Dean’s hesitation. Cas would also struggle with not being able to see. And he’d read that after the treatment the moisture produced from the compress could cause blurry vision for several minutes. He’d cross that bridge when they got to it. 

Dean sighs, “Alright, sunshine, give me the compress.” Cas hands it over and Dean slips it over his head. “Feels weird.” He pauses. “Not bad weird, though.”

Once Dean was comfortable, Cas began reading and running his fingers through Dean’s hair. He paused a few paragraphs in to check on Dean.

“Sweetheart?”

“Hmm?”

“How does the compress feel? Are you alright?”

“...feels good,” Dean murmurs, “I’m good.” 

By the end of the chapter, just as the ten minutes are up, Dean’s breaths are deep and even and the arm slung over Cas’s waist has relaxed. Cas carefully places the book on his nightstand, turns the light off, and eases himself down to lay next to Dean. He’s a little worried about Dean waking up in a panic if the compress is left on, so he gently removes it. As he does, Dean shifts and buries his nose in Cas’s neck.

“Sleep well, Dean,” he whispers, placing a soft kiss on his forehead before drifting off himself.

. . . .

Cas wakes to sun filtering through the curtains, which isn’t unusual, and a heavy weight draped over his right side. That was the unusual part. Turning his head to check the time, Cas’s eyes widen in surprise. Dean rarely sleeps in this late. Happy that Dean is resting well and not wanting to disturb him, Cas just lays there. He listens to the soft breaths beside him, hears the birds singing outside.

Cas is nearly back to sleep himself when Dean’s breathing sharpens and he rolls off of Cas. He checks the time and rolls back over to press a soft kiss to Cas’s lips. 

“Thank you,” Dean says quietly, blushing. 

Cas pulls back a little to look Dean in the eye. “For what?” They’ve been working on saying exactly what they mean. 

Dean blushes a deeper shade. “For the compress thing, for not making fun of my hang ups,” Dean’s eyes close briefly and then they’re looking right into Cas’s soul. “For staying. For taking care of me.”

Cas brings his hand up to Dean’s face. “I’ll always stay,” a kiss to one cheek, “I’ll always take care of you,” a kiss to the other, “I love you, Dean,” a kiss to his lips.

Dean returns the kiss before pulling away and bringing his own hand up to Cas’s cheek. “I love you too.” He kisses Cas again. “But I ain’t callin’ that thing a moist heat compress or whatever. That’s a weird ass name.”

Cas laughs, “Of course, Dean.”

#liv wrote a thing #destiel fic #destiel #deancas fic #ok i'm going to run away now #hope you guys like it #this is the most words i've written in 5 years that wasn't for a lesson plan

[hanazou]

╰ ⋆ ଓ. 𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐃𝐚𝐳𝐚𝐢’𝐬 𝐁𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐅𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 • ₊˚

warning : depression, suicide, and self-harm

note : Thank you for this request, anon! this can also be interpreted as a friends-to-lovers since I believe that before dating Dazai, you have to befriend him first in its earnest meaning. Sorry I had to post this without your ask, I accidentally posted without triple-checking so I redid it

𝗗𝗮𝗶𝗹𝘆 𝗢𝗰𝗰𝘂𝗿𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗲𝘀

There’s never a dull day when you’re Dazai’s best friend.

You and he create codenames for everyone in the agency, some are super random that sometimes you forget who they’re for.

The rest are so painfully obvious just for the sake of getting good reactions from the said target (mainly Kunikida, sometimes Atsushi)

Kunikida is Miserable Four Eyed Single

Atsushi is Hello Kitty

Yosano is Don’t Even Try

Neither of you attempts to come up with one for Ranpo and don’t have the heart to give any for Kyouka

The Tanizaki siblings are Cherry Bombs and Kenji is Steak Harvester

None for Fukuzawa because although he’s cool with jokes, you and Dazai respect him and also don’t want to risk unemployment.

Those in Port Mafia get nicknames too.

Chuuya is Tangerine Slug. Dazai didn’t even try to get creative and you don’t bother

Mori is Overpriced Perfume because of his coat, tie, heavy cold perfume, and the smile of a potential sugar daddy.

Akutagawa is Angry Canine, Gin is Crawling Bat

Kouyou is Fancy Hot Pink

Hirotsu is Weathered Tobacco.

Kyuusaku is Daycare Child

You and Dazai toss balls of paper, Ranpo's candy wrapping, or anything else at each other from across the room.

Atsushi is stuck in the middle, both position-wise and “whose side are you on?”

You and Dazai argue to win over Atsushi’s good side so he’d help one of you throw paper at the other. You pull Atsushi’s right arm and Dazai pulls his left.

Of course Atsushi won’t side with any of you with that sharp glare from Kunikida that shivers him.

Prank wars are a must! Things always get crazy because Dazai is the epitome of turmoil and he has a high tolerance for the most annoying pranks.

Dazai spends half of the office's clear tape to stick them on the doorframe so you'd run your face onto it.

You drop a toy cockroach through his collar after sneaking behind him

He somehow knows which toilet stall you'll use (either you have a habit or he just… deduces) and tampers with the bidet beforehand.

He always puts a roll of toilet paper behind the closet though. If you don't panic or get too mad, you'll find it.

You spray your cologne/perfume directly at his face and say it's "to replace the nasty odour from his bandages" while he coughs.

You tie the waist belt of his trench coat he lets loose to door handles and watch him get caught and fall on his butt.

He often crashes at your place at ungodly hours to ravage the alcohol (sake) in your mini-fridge, bearing a bucket of crab sticks he’ll fry using your stove, and does it at least twice a week.

He comes to your place because his alcohol tolerance is wa~ay better than yours and he doesn’t want the trouble of dragging your wasted self home.

His living space isn't the best for a pair of hazards to drink in either, it has bad ventilation and is too cramped.

Do you know that kind of game show in Japan where the guests have to do super odd missions? That’s what you and Dazai watch while chewing on crabsticks

More often than not, Dazai gets too lazy to make the walk back home so he crashes at your place (not that he actually sleeps well with those neverending disturbing thoughts, just enters energy-saving mode)

When he “wakes up” earlier than you he uses your bathroom and every pleasant-smelling shampoo and body wash you have without hesitation.

Don't sleep in for too long because your face will not escape Dazai's permanent markers.

Why did he even bring markers?

You and Dazai arrive late because you took your sweet time beating him up for using too much soap and water.

Just by your simultaneous late arrival and Dazai’s oddly fragrant hair, Kunikida knows you and Dazai slacked off the night earlier and gives you both an earful.

You either stop Dazai from flirting with random women or join him when you see someone attractive.

If you stop him, grab him by the neck or ear and pull him away.

If you join him or even compete against him to woo his beauty, you have to come up with normal and better flirts to win her attention.

If you're his competitor, Dazai pushes you away by swinging his hips against yours to send you off stumbling.

Random duets while sounding like a constipated seagull with asphyxiation.

It doesn’t matter whether you’re a good singer or not. When Dazai starts his Double Suicide song your vocal cord is squeezed thin

Once, you and Dazai scared away the cat Fukuzawa wanted to pet.

Ranpo asks Kenji to get him earplugs to cover his ears from you and Dazai’s "singing". Yosano ends up asking for a pair too.

Spontaneous random hauls (during ungodly hours) to 100-yen stores (like Daiso) or 24-hour minimarkets. Sometimes it's a good way to let out some steam after a tiring day at work.

In case you don't know, 100-yen stores are super common in Japan. Every product sold there costs only 100 yen (the highest Japanese coin value)

95% of the bill is on you, of course. Dazai chips in with only like, 5,000 yen or 10,000 yen at the most

Dazai doesn't mind carrying all the bags since you paid for most of the products.

He buys the most random stuff too, like cat nail clippers.

"I'll give it to Atsushi-kun," He says.

"But I was the one who paid for it," You stare.

Eating hotpot at the roof of your apartment or any random building which roof is open (aka invade-worthy) at midnight.

The utensils, portable stove, and ingredients are on you. You can't expect Dazai to provide those when all he eats and drinks are alcohol and instant food

He's the one carrying everything behind you while you unlock (pick the lock) and open the door

Dazai always, tirelessly, tries to pour his whole sachet of MSG and you have to be quick to bust him before the whole soup is ruined

He pokes his chopsticks into your meatball and steals it just before you eat it

Everything becomes a mess from there.

The udon that got tangled between his chopsticks dropped on your thigh, the mat, and his own leg. The broth drips on everything

The mess aside, it’s very enjoyable with the dark sky, tiny stars, and cool breezy wind against your faces and hairs.

Dazai’s not the only one who crashes at his best friend’s place unprovoked, uninvited, and by unpopular demand.

You bring trash bags because you always have to dispose of the empty sake bottles, food wrapping, and leftovers he let flood his space.

If you don’t, you have to squeeze yourself to fit on the small untouched space on his floor because the rest of the area is hidden under the trash.

Dazai whines and says you’re nitpicky while sitting on the couch watching you clean, poking your back with his toe.

Sometimes you bring DVDs of old movies for you and Dazai to watch and diss together over soft drinks.

𝗪𝗼𝗿𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗧𝗼𝗴𝗲𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿

You and Dazai often clash when Dazai isn’t mentoring Atsushi properly.

“What kind of mentor asks his newbie junior to help him get out of an oil drum on his first day of work?”

“I know not everybody can be me,” Dazai flails his hand.

Sometimes you feel the need to chaperone Dazai and Atsushi... just in case...

You have to be able to endure not knowing anything and just do things according to his plan because Dazai always keeps his strategies all to himself

Always be ready to be told to do the stupidest things

"Stand at the end of the plaza and make pigeon noises," This is something Dazai might tell you.

After arguing, you have no choice but to follow because as he claims, "Have my strategies ever failed?"

The ending will be something along the lines of the target you and Dazai pursuing use pigeon noises as their code and the voices you made disrupt their communication.

Dazai always has a cocky smile each time the mission is successful at the expense of your patience (and dignity).

Dazai trusts you to always have his back, even and especially when he puts himself out there as the dummy for the sake of success.

He doesn’t think twice about entering a building with a bomb inside to confront criminals while you’re left in charge to find the diffuser before it explodes, killing everyone and him included.

Or like when he counts on you to find the sniper in time while he strikes a ‘negotiation’ else he gets shot dead.

It's even more irritating how Dazai never bats an eye at the possibility of him dying while he always, stealthily, protects you from behind the stage

It's hypocritical of him and it angers you from how one-sided everything is.

You often rage at him about this after the jobs are done. It irks you even more how he never thinks it’s that big of a deal and always dismisses your emotions like it’s a casual day to day conversation.

(A fist or slap may be thrown at him in the heat of the moment.)

Dazai never gets fully convinced by your concerns about him, but he may compromise for future plans. It’s a slow journey that requires your patience and persistence.

𝗘𝗮𝗰𝗵 𝗢𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿’𝘀 𝗦𝘂𝗽𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁 𝗦𝘆𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗺

Being his best friend means that there's a huge chance that you relate to his emptiness/hopelessness (or even both) since Dazai's emotional distance grows when faced with people who he deems is "in another world".

[If you're one of the people who walk under the light, unaware how it feels to have slimy dark hands creeping over you, it'll take longer for you to be his best friend.]

It's your second nature to keep an eye out for bandages on sale. You always buy a heap of them for Dazai. You see bandages, you think of him.

Dazai ‘thanks’ you each time by treating you for a night out at random bars to get wasted together

He actually rejects any woman’s advances so he can savour his time with you. Who else will he do that for?

Whatever depressing or embarrassing blurbs you both say out of drunkenness, they'll be forgotten when morning comes.

You continuously break into his living space to make sure he doesn't do anything stupid. It terrifies you how you can never absolutely know what he does when you’re not with him considering how spontaneous his attempts are.

You always burn any rope before he makes a noose out of them

You throw out any suspicious pills and every blade you find

You properly sort any dangerous cleaning chemicals

You can never reach his infamous Complete Guide to Suicide book though, he always keeps it somewhere safe

You secretly install a couple’s app in his phone that gives you his location and alerts you if he’s out of range in case he tries to jumps into a river or off a building.

(He actually knows but for some reason, he doesn’t want to uninstall it. By gut feeling, you also know that he knows and are glad he keeps the app)

Dazai always protests each time you stop his suicide attempt, which may lead to arguments, but at least you'll see him tomorrow. You don't hear any genuine irritation in his complaints either.

When he looks like he doesn’t even want to crack a joke about what he’s feeling, you strike up a conversation as if nothing’s wrong

Dazai appreciates that. He doesn’t need advice, just a faithful presence that doesn’t judge him.

Your conversation with him circles around what he’s feeling without actually addressing it, just to give enough clues that you acknowledge his feelings without being melodramatic.

Dazai is much more casual compared to you whenever he catches you having a depressive episode, but there’s always that pensive look in his eyes he can’t or doesn’t try to hide.

His statements aren't what you'd call conventionally supportive but he delays your dark thoughts for another day.

And if they're still there tomorrow, he'll delay them again. It goes on like that.

He knows how to handle your depressive/suicidal thoughts if you have any.

"Are you going to use that box cutter? If you have to be an amateur, at least live until tomorrow so I can teach you the proper art of suicide."

"This noose is too weathered," He wiggles the flimsy rope in his hand. "How about shopping together to find better kinds of stuff after work tomorrow?"

“You seriously still believe these pills are lethal?” he throws the bottle over his shoulder and it rolls down the gutter. “Don’t you know basic chemistry? The best these will do is give you diarrhoea.”

You always end up following his goofy lead and he somehow always distracts you successfully.

Basically, he addresses your pain the way you address his; acknowledging it without making a huge fuss about it, and you appreciate his efforts.

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