#Double Chute

[dawntheduckrb]

They put me downstairs at work :(

All thumb healing progress was undone in one evening apparently. It actually felt mostly fine on Sunday, until after work. They put me in an area I'm rarely sent to on Sunday evening, and I had to do a ton of heavy lifting. My arms are sore but it's like a post-exercise soreness (painful, but still very normal). My thumb felt fine allllllll day today, until I started to draw. Even with breaks, it still feels super tense, and now it's hurting even when I'm not using it. I'm gonna take that as a sign to stop for the night lol

I have one drawing I want to finish before school starts back up, because I'm worried it'll distract me if I don't have it done before then. Of course, if my hand prevents from finishing it, I'll manage, but that'd suck :')

On a lighter tone I feel very strongly about this cat in a blanket I found, I don't know why it amuses me so much but it's such a mood

[in-class-daydreams]

Imagine ex-husband Gojo and your son, Sen, getting into the nastiest fight to date.

"Doman expansion: Infinity Castle!"

You feel yourself floating right side up, then everything shifts and you're suddenly falling upside down. You hit the tatami mats with an "oof!"

Sen's domain is a Japanese-style castle with infinite rooms he can manipulate at will. The domain is infinite and some rooms can lead to nowhere, reminiscent of Satoru's domain. When he and his best friend Naoki overlap their domains, one could find themselves isolated, battling shikigami in various parts of the castle.

Sen and Satoru land on their feet not far from you.

"Yikes," Satoru says. "Pretty crude, if you ask me."

"Good thing I'm not asking!" Sen would say, powering up his next attack. Satoru would move to counter and by now you have a headache and a bruise, and you've had it with the bickering.

"Domain--"

"Enough!" You put your hands together. "Domain expansion: Thousand Heavenly Gates"

The scene shifts and you find yourselves standing on water with a clear sky above you. One thousand torii gates stand tall all around you. Your ex and son feel the rage inside them start to fade away.

Pointing an accusing finger, you scold them, "You two are two of the strongest sorcerers who ever lived. Using your gifts to bicker with each other is some of the most blatant disregard for your stations I've ever seen! I don't want to see another domain used for this kind of stupidity again. Am I clear?"

"Yup."

"Yes, mama."

"Now," you say slowly. "When I drop this domain, you two are going to spend some civil father-son time together. Go get lunch. I don't care where, but on the way back, pick me up an ice cream. Double scoop. Satoru?"

You ex-husband grimaces and has the decency to look chastised. "Yeah, I know what flavor. That swirly one you like."

"Good. Don't come back until you've learned to play nice."

~

Imagine ex-husband Gojo picking you up from girls' night.

Sen goes back to the school dorms at night, so you figured you go out for a few drinks with your friends to catch up. Satoru heard about the event from Shoko and offered to take you home. You agreed and on the way took a detour to your favorite arcade from when you and Satoru were teens.

"Ugh! I swear these things are rigged!" you groan in frustration when the claw game drops the plushie you were aiming for.

"My turn," Satoru says. He scoots you out of the way and focuses hard on the white one-eyed cat you've been trying to get.

In the reflection of the plastic, you notice a slight glow behind Satoru's blindfold.

"No way you're using the six-eyes for this!" You whack his arm playfully, trying to stifle your laughter.

"Don't hate the player, babe, hate the game," he replies. With that, he presses the button and the claw drops. It hits the toy dead center. Closes. Lifts. The two of you hold your breaths.

And drops right into the chute.

"Yes!" you squeal while Satoru retrieves it. His face screws up in a look of contempt.

"Ew, it's even uglier up close."

You snatch it from him and hug it close to your chest. "Don't say that! He didn't mean it, Gege, don't worry."

"You named it already?"

"I named him."

"His face makes me mad for some reason."

"Your face makes me mad for many reasons."

Satoru lightly punches Gege in the face, which leads to you chasing him all the way back to the car, brandishing your new friend like a weapon.

~

Imagine ex-husband Gojo walking you to your front door.

You thank him for the ride and for taking you to that arcade. He doesn't need to know this, but being there with him made you feel like you were seventeen again.

Many things about Satoru remind you of how happy he made you. Even now.

"I'm sorry I acted like that," he says. Your reminiscing means you didn't catch the first part of his apology but you nod like you've been paying attention the whole time. "We're not together any more and I haven't been good about respecting boundaries and I'm sorry."

He blabbers on some more but all you can think about is how this whole apology is exactly the kind of communication you'd been wishing for throughout your marriage.

"So if you're seeing someone now, I get it. I mean, it doesn't matter if I get it or not because it's none of my business but--"

"Oh, shut up, Toru!" Fisting a hand in his shirt, you drag him to your level and kiss him like you’d never get to again.

~

Thanks for reading!

Click [here] for more of Sen being mean to his dad | Ask stuff about Sen and the fam [here]

[katsukistofu]

peanut butter and jellyfish

contents ౨ৎ ⋆ h. shinsou x fem reader. 5k words — fluff. cursing. comforting insecurities. friends to secret lovers.

⭑ shenanigans with your not-so-secret boyfriend ft. sleepovers with eri, a cat eating pizza on you at 3am, your classmates being nosy, and an aquarium date.

note: your quirk is forensic sight! so ur gc name is the way it is bc ur eyes lol get it

You choke back a laugh as a very focused Eri puts yet another sticker on Hitoshi’s face. 

Snacks and pillows are strewn around the inside of the blanket fort the three of you finished building moments before. Stiller than a rock, your calm best friend sits there cross-legged so that Eri can give him a makeover of unicorns, stars, and rainbows. 

“Do you think he looks pretty yet?” Eri tilts her head at you.

“Like a real-life princess.” You giggle. “Good job, Eri!” 

“Yay!” She happily high fives the hand you hold up for her. “Do you feel pretty yet, Hito-nii?”

“I feel so bonita.” Hitoshi deadpans, sending you two into another fit of giggles.

“You were pretty already, Toshi,” you coo, rubbing a thumb over the sticker of a cat making sushi on his cheekbone. Mr. Aizawa must have bought that one for her.

Hitoshi pretends to shyly gaze at you from under his long lashes. “Aw, really?”

His lips curve into a lazy smile, and a heat that you’re all too familiar with rises up your neck, you turn away–a little too quickly, to Hitoshi’s amusement.

“Nevermind you’re ugly.”

He laughs and the heat creeps up to your cheeks.

Such a simple sound, yet that soft, husky voice of his always manages to make your insides a mushy mess, even when you had painfully tripped over his cat, Celery, when he transferred and first moved into the dorms with your class.

The normally stoic, reserved purple-haired boy had doubled over with an uncontrollable wheeze, supporting himself on the sofa as your groaning self was sprawled across the floor. 

God, they were lucky they were both cute.

Yet, you couldn’t help but smile as he reached a hand out to help you up, the other still covering his mouth. 

That was the first time you made him laugh, and now, you’ve heard it so many times that you could finally stop counting on both your hands’ fingers but you still wanted more.

“Want me to paint your nails, Eri?” You ask, scooting over to your bedroom’s drawer. 

You open it, your own light blue nails painted a color that reminds you of the sea against the pastel pink of the treasure box you take out. It had a heart-shaped diamond on the latch. 

The heavy box was filled with a collection of nail polish the girls in your class usually used for their sleepovers as well, and new bottles, mostly varying shades of apple red, started mysteriously appearing the day after Eri said she had never gotten painted her nails before. 

“Yes!” Eri’s eyes sparkle. “Can I please have matchy nails with Hito-nii?”

“Of course, sweetie.” You smile. She was adorable. 

Hitoshi rubs the back of his neck. “You sure you want yours black this time, Eri?”

“Yes!” She huffs stubbornly. “Like dad’s clothes and those things under your eyes!”

“Hey!” He protests. She shares a mischievous look with you and you both giggle, catching the pillow Hitoshi gently throws at you. 

“Oreo wouldn’t treat me like this.” Hitoshi reaches out to ruffle Eri’s hair and she squeals in protest, batting his hand away. 

Eri holds up the oversized panda plushie he was talking about. It was comically bigger than her, and you had to bite back a laugh.

The moment you two spotted it in the claw machine outside Shinsou’s favorite cat cafe near campus, you knew you had to win it to add to her ever growing collection of stuffed animals.

With a grin, you remember the huge sigh of relief Shinsou let out when it finally fell into the chute.

“Duh he wouldn’t ‘cause you’re his twin!”

Hitoshi mock gasps. “Take that back.” And tickles her neck, barely dodging as you throw the pillow he threw earlier back at him. 

“Woah!”

Except much, much harder.

“Don’t worry Eri, I'll protect you!” You grab another nearby pillow and throw it at him, which he easily catches in mid-air with one hand like it was a frisbee.

“Aw.” You pout. Mr. Aizawa was training him a little too good now.

Eri pats your arm to console you. “It’s okay I appre-shee—apree-shee—“

“Appreciate?” You offer, and her face brightens as she nods.

“Appree-shee-ate. You. For trying.” She finishes shyly.

“Aw, thank you Eri. I appreciate you too.” 

Hitoshi’s eyes soften at the sight of you two. 

“What about me?”

You scowl. “You can go duck yourself, Toshi.”

“Love you too.”

Eri suddenly gasps. 

“Dad says that to Uncle Zashi too!”

Despite already knowing the answer, Hitoshi and you turn to look at her suspiciously.

“…Which one?”

As if he knows you’re talking about him, Aizawa yells down the hallway.

“Eri, brats, pizza’s here!”

───────── 

“Can I have another hug?” Hitoshi asks coyly after class one day. 

The bell had just rung, and you roll your eyes at his leaning form on the wall of the almost empty hallway. 

Everyone was leaving for lunch.

Except you two, but that was Hitoshi’s fault.

“I just gave you one!”

“Oh no.” He places a dramatic palm to his forehead. “I think I’m going to pass out because of someone if I don’t get a hug in the next five seconds.”

“Greedy ass.” You sigh, wrapping your arms around his waist. 

He hides a grin, shuffling closer to close the gap between your bodies. 

Hitoshi smells like fresh linen with hints of sunshine, probably from his daily bike ride he took around campus before class started, and the coffee he brewed this morning. 

A sense of comfort settles into your bones as the familiar scent envelopes you, and you breathe it in. 

He softly tucks your head under his chin as you nuzzle your face deeper into his chest, your headache from taking the quiz in Ectoplasm’s class earlier now long gone.

“Did you know that when cats see that it's raining outside a window, they go to another window in the same room to check if it's still raining outside?” Hitoshi randomly whispers.

“I did not know that.” You giggle. His lips feel ticklish on your hair. “Does Celery do that too?”

“All the time.” Hitoshi grins. “I have a video from yesterday’s storm, I’ll show you in the cafeteria.”

“Ooh okay!”

He straightens, and takes your hand, your fingers easily lacing through his as you both start to head in the direction of the dining hall. 

When you trip over nothing, he snorts, already expecting it, and catches your waist before you take a fall that will be difficult for your ego and your knees to recover from.

“Careful,” he says as you clutch onto his school uniform in relief, and you swear that already deep, smooth voice of his drops an octave on purpose, almost sending you to the ground again.

Hitoshi’s thumb is still tracing small circles on the back of your hand as the both of you join the line for the traditional school lunch. You could try a different cuisine tomorrow. On today’s menu was miso seaweed soup with a side of grilled fish and a milk bread roll along with, of course, rice.

You feel a vibration on the side of your leg, and for the umpteenth time this school year you thank UA for adding pockets to the school uniform’s skirts as you slip your phone out. The jellyfish charm Hitoshi got for your birthday last year dangles from your case.

Surprise, surprise, it’s the class group chat.

-forklift uncertified -

it’s barbie bitch 

guysss guess what i sawwww

invisi-girl 

IS IT TODOROKI IN A PINK TUTU

 

pikachew

girl what 

invisi-girl 

u guys don’t get the vision

i saw it in a dream last night

the rock 

nah i get it dude

that would be so manly

ice spice 

I would not be completely opposed to the idea

invisi-girl 

SEE

it’s barbie bitch 

it’s even better >_<

it’s barbie bitch 

hitoshituckingyourhair

behindearwithasoftsmile.png

mochi cheeks

OHMYGOD!?1?2?2

SOCUTEEEEETES

airpods with wires

i saw that

airpods with wires 

can yall not flirt before lunch 

next time i’m gonna throw 

up before i get to eat

sue you 

AWWWW OUR LITTLE BABYS ALL GROWN UP

forensic balls [you]

FUCK U GUYS IM 17

yaomomo

exactly

a Baby :)

forensic balls [you]

yaoyao ur supposed

to be on my side </3

yaomomo 

sorry my love i cannot 

deny the facts </3

pikachew

Nahhh only shinsou can call her that guys ;))))

airpods with wires

wah wah wah

forensic balls [you]

one more word and i’m gonna change the gc name to fornite jiggle physics 

sue you

NO

yaomomo

No thank you

my chemical romance

what a mad banquet of darkness

it’s barbie bitch

babe look me in the

eyes this isn’t like you 

forensic balls [you]

try me. 

pikachew

DO ITTTTTTT

forensic balls [you]

ok just bc u told me to 

i won’t now 

scotch tape 

dayum rip denks

forensic balls [you]

also not my fault u guys 

have early ass birthdays smh

shirt guy

Senior citizen core fr

forensic balls [you]

ily midoriya

shirt guy

ilyt pookie xx 

kazoo-ki

Girl u aint slick

shirt guy

You’re so late omg

pikachew

bro has us on mute

kazoo-ki

shut up dunce face

kazoo-ki

How tf do I change my name

mochi cheeks

LMFAO

wiki-how

Bakugo it is fairly simple. 

wiki-how

First you click on your profile, then your personal settings. 

wiki-how

From there you press “Change Display Name” and you should be able to enter your name of preference. 

kazoo-ki 

K

better than you

Thanks glasses ig

wiki-how

You are very welcome.

kiri the rock

nice one dude!

sue you

wow egotistical much

better than you

You wish yours was as big as mine

pikachew

that’s what he said

it’s barbie bitch

omg it just hit me

it’s barbie bitch

the first person to 

finally get bitches in our class 

it’s barbie bitch

i’m so happy i could cry

pikachew

I GET BITCHES

sue you

yeah over the screen 

we're talking irl

pikachew

leave me and my otome games alone

forensic balls [you]

real 

forensic balls [you]

AND IM NOT DATING HITOSHI

it’s barbie bitch

HITOSHI????????

airpods with wires

first name basis is crazy

forensic balls [you]

fuck i mean *shinsou

scotch tape

y’all smell that

the rock

peeeyew

pikachew

smells like sum bullshiiii

kazoo-ki

Could’ve fooled me

yaomomo

You aren’t??? :(

yaomomo

But I wrote a reminder to wish 

you two happy anniversary and 

even bought tea to celebrate!

forensic balls [you]

….for what date

yaomomo

April 1st :(

forensic balls [you]

………………

airpods with wires  

@ it’s barbie bitch we can see u

across the cafeteria u are BAWLING

eyebags

what the fuck

Hitoshi bites back a laugh as your widened eyes meet his, glancing up from your phone.

“Not dating, huh?” He grins.

You groan and pinch his arm. “I panicked okay! I didn’t know what to tell them.”

“Hmm, do you want me to?”

“I mean, only if you want to.” You shyly play with his fingers. 

“I kind of like us being a secret from them for a little longer. It feels… nice.”

Hitoshi smiles. “I know what you mean.” He wrinkles his nose. “Though they’re so nosy it looks like they figured it out already.”

“Pffft, yeah.” Mina could definitely sniff out a relationship from miles away, no matter how much PDA you tried to sneakily do in empty hallways.

Hitoshi squeezes your hand in reassurance.

“I like it too.” He leans over, and your eyes are forced to meet the dark violet of his.

The side of Hitoshi’s soft-looking lips, courtesy of the strawberry chapstick he stole from you before class this morning, quirk up as he looks down at you with soft eyes, the ones he reserves for you and random cats he sees on the road.

“Chapstick thief,” you mutter.

“Oh, you want it back?” Hitoshi grins. “Kiss it off me then.”

Your cheeks grown warm. “Not here!”

“Good,” He smirks.

“I prefer keeping you all to myself, anyway.”

   ───────── 

“What’s wrong?” 

He’s crouching down so that your eyes have no choice but to meet his from your spot on the bean bag.

He gently pushes the switch in your hands down to your lap and pokes your thigh. You squirm away ticklishly. 

“Tell me.”

“No.” You huff, picking your switch back up. “I just wanna play Stardew, leave me alone.”

“Darling.”

Your face flushes at the pet name, and he smirks. His secret weapon still works without fail. Hitoshi didn’t even need to activate his quirk to have you under his thumb. 

“You’re not going to feel better if you keep it in. Tell me what’s wrong.”

His nails are still pink, you faintly notice, trying to distract yourself from your very attractive, very insistent boyfriend in front of you with his comforting hands placed on your thighs.

You painted his left hand, and Eri painted his right at the last sleepover you had together. She had insisted that he should match nails with her this time, since she matched with him last week.

It was already terrible and impressive that Hitoshi was a people-reader, even worse that he knew what to do to make you fold so easily and open up.

Curse you Hitoshi, you and your disposition for healthy communication.

You should have never recommended that therapist to him.

“I don’t know,” you finally mumble. He tilts his head, showing you that he’s listening. 

“I just feel like I don’t deserve it.”

“Deserve what, sweetheart?” He asks. The softness in his voice is unbearable and what you've been bottling up for weeks finally spills out.

“I feel like I don’t deserve it when good things happen to me.”

Hitoshi blinks, then lets out a snort. Which turns into a full blown laugh coming from his chest.

You shove his face away and he falls on his butt, still chuckling. 

“You’re making fun of me!” You say indignantly.

“Sorry, sorry, I just–” He coughs, and takes a breath to recollect himself. 

“You say a lot of dumb shit and I think that's the worst thing I’ve heard you say.”

You pout. “I’m feeling very invalidated right now.” Hitoshi rolls his eyes, and his hands reclaim their spot on your skin, except this time he’s gently cupping your face in his hands. 

He’s not used to comforting people, but you can see that he’s trying.  

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers, and you inhale sharply. “You’re kind, you’re intelligent, and I see you try so hard everyday. You always do a good job when you set your sights on something. Why don’t you deserve good things?”

“I don’t know.” Your gaze is numbly pinned to the silver chain around his neck, the one with a little crescent moon on it that he wears everyday, not even taking it off when he goes to sleep. The one you gave to him. 

“That’s okay.”

His thumbs caress your cheeks, and you think you can breathe a little easier. 

“Let's think of it this way,” Hitoshi says, still cupping your cheeks, grounding you. “It’s not about whether you deserve it or not. Do you want it?”

You finally meet his eyes, and answer with a voice shakier than you’d like it to be. 

“I do. I want good things for myself.”

“Atta girl,” Hitoshi says with a proud quirk of his lips. 

You stare at him, your heart suspended in your chest, feeling better but still looking a bit unsure.

Hitoshi notices this from the way you start biting the inside of your cheek, and he leans his forehead against yours. You freeze. 

He smells like fruit, like freshly washed blueberries and those ripe strawberries in the kitchen in the dorm’s fridge. “That’s more than enough. We can work from there.”

There’s still a worried furrow between your eyebrows.

“Come on, sweetheart. We can go to the aquarium you love this weekend.”

He smirks as you perk up at that, drinking up the rare, shy expression suddenly on your face again, and leans down to your ear. 

“You’re so easy,” Hitoshi whispers. 

You grumble, you could hear that stupid grin in his voice.

“Sorry, I can't hear you with your face in my chest.”

You raise your head to glare at him and his heart soars. There was his girl.

God, his smug face was starting to irritate you more and more. "I said that if you were my husband I'd poison your tea!" 

“If you were my wife, I'd drink it."

   ───────── 

-thot pockets -

it's barbie bitch

omg guess who i just saw 

cuddling in front of the tv

it's barbie bitch

youwrappedlikeaburritoinhitoshisarms.png

dating allegation #1 

MINA WTF DELETE THAT

dating allegation #1 

WHY R U STALKING US

[dating allegation #2 saved an image]

dating allegation #1 

BRO WHOS SIDE ARE YOU ON

dating allegation #1 

PURPLE MINION LOOKING BITCH

dating allegation #2

ok forensic penis

dating allegation #2

who changed my user

pikachew

me

cuz u guys are NOT beating 

them :laughcry::laughcry:

ice spice

I am just confused as to why 

you two are sitting on each other 

ice spice

When the rest of the couch 

appears to be unoccupied

ice spice

Perhaps this is a new 

procreation method?

mochi cheeks

TODORKIWHATHAHVDHSHA

pikachew

LMDFAOOOOOOOOO

ice spice

? 

dating allegation #1 

WHATTHEFUKC

the rock

never change bro 

sue you

IACTAULKYLCANT BREATHE HELP

it’s barbie bitch

ME NEITEHHR

dating allegation #2

Whenever my eyebags get darker

dating allegation #2

Just know I blame it on all of you

   ───────── 

“Celery?” You mutter, rubbing your bleary eyes. “What are you doing?”

“Mrow.” The cat continues eating the slice of… pizza? On your chest.

It looks like the one that you and Hitoshi ordered earlier after quizzing each other for Present Mic’s exam.

 

“I love you so much but I am so confused.”

You reach for your phone to text Hitoshi, your still-asleep hands fumbling a bit on the nightstand.

toshi <3 [12 hrs ago]

us 

you [12 hrs ago]

literally us <3

toshi <3 [12 hrs ago]

want to order takeout and 

watch ouran highschool after

we study for tmrws exam

you [12 hrs ago]

yes please omg

you [now – 03:24]

hey

can u explain why ur daughter

is eating pizza on my boobs

at 3am

toshi [03:30]

whar

?

toshi [03:31]

OHfMGOD

CELERU

Not even five minutes later, he’s knocking on the door to your room. You open it, and the sight of a very sleepy looking Hitoshi greets you. His already unruly bedhead is even messier than usual and you’re pretty sure he’s wearing his shirt backwards. Did he put it on before coming over? 

Wait.

You blink, long and hard, banishing the thoughts of a groggy, very shirtless Hitoshi lying in his bed, with the light of his phone screen illuminating his handsome features as he replies to your text. Those four hours of sleep must finally be hitting you.

Hitoshi sees you blinking, and takes it as a sign you’re still in shock at the pizza monster in your lap.

He gives an awkward pat to your shoulder in reassurance.

“I think this is just how she shows affection.” Hitoshi stares down at Celery fondly.

The way you stroke her fur so softly makes his chest feel warm and tingly.

“Does she eat leftover pizza off your chest at three in the morning?”

“...No.”

“Hah. She said she likes me better. ” You smirk victoriously. “Isn’t that right sweetie?”

The calico cat purrs as you scratch her ears, a bit of tomato sauce under her chin. Hitoshi exaggeratedly puts his hand over his heart at this scene of betrayal.

“Seriously? Celery, I took you off those streets and raised you like I was the one pregnant with you for nine months.”

“Mrow.” She bumps her head against your hand.

“Pfft, give it up Toshi. It’s time for you to hand over the adoption papers.”

Hitoshi rubs the back of his neck. “Or we could just share custody.”

“What?” Your cheeks grow warm. “You want me to be her mom?”

“I mean you kind of already are. Look at her,” he says, eyes softening as he looks at the two of you. 

Celery has her paw on your arm. After eating until her little tummy was full, she was already starting to doze off.

“She takes after me.”

You let out a derisive snort.

“Yeah you looked just like that after our binge marathon today too."

“Not in that way.”

He smirks at your confused reaction.

“Then what do you mean–”

At that moment, Celery decides it’s the perfect time to snuggle into your tank top, smearing what’s left of the pizza on her face all over it.

Hitoshi’s eyes widen. He laughs, covering his mouth.

You’ve never been so glad you chose to wear black to sleep.

   ───────── 

“Trouble child, you’re here.”

“Hi Mr. Aizawa.” You roll your eyes. “When are you going to stop calling me that, it’s getting old.”

“When you stop getting into trouble.”

“Okay, that’s fair.”

“The kid’s almost ready.” He snorts. “About damn time. Been up since six.”

“He has?” Your eyes widen. “For what?”

Your teacher smirks. “Nerves. Isn’t this his, what, tenth time taking you out though?”

A flustered Hitoshi suddenly appears from behind him with a light pink dusting his cheeks and steers Aizawa back to the door. “O-okay dad that’s enough.” 

He’s cutely dressed in a soft-looking grey cardigan over a white shirt and black wide-legged pants. 

This had to be the most boyfriend he’s looked, ever, and he looked very boyfriend all of the time. 

“Hitoshi?” You do a little twirl for him in your own outfit. “Fire or nah?”

He looks up from his phone, where he’s googling the bus route to the aquarium, except his eyes linger. Without skipping a beat, he responds.

 “Fire.”

“Toshi, you’re staring.”

“Of course I’m staring.” He says it with a tone like 'what else would I be doing?'

You shyly fidget with the edge of your shorts. “Why?”

“Because you’re beautiful.”

Hitoshi reaches out a hand, like he hasn't just casually left you breathless, and his own eyes soften as he notices your starry-eyed look. 

“Let’s go, you crybaby.”

“Damn. I was going to say you look handsome too, but I don’t remember being the one who sobbed my eyes out watching Your Name last night.”

The tips of his ears turn red.

“Shut up.”

“Was like our fifth rewatch too.”

“Shut up before I kiss you.”

"Is that a threat or a promise?"

"Both."

‧₊˚ 🐚 ✩ ₊˚ 🌊 ⊹ 𓇼

Hitoshi’s lips twitch as he sees your eyes light up at the sight of the sign pointing in the jellyfish exhibit’s direction. “You’re adorable.”

“Thanks.” You grin. “You’re slow.”

You take him by the arm, your brain faintly registering how muscular his bicep is despite holding it so many times, and drag him along. 

In their tanks, the glow of the moon jellies fills the darkness in front of them as other visitors murmur around you two in awe. Blue light reflects off the water and through the glass, illuminating your boyfriend’s dreamy features and you can’t help but admire how pretty he looks.

Hitoshi turns from watching the jellyfish to face you, fingers now lacing through yours. You don’t look away. 

A soft smile flickers across his face when he catches you staring at him.

“This reminds me of when we first met.”

You smile. You remember. He was the one Mina relentlessly teased you for staring at, which you completely denied at the time.

“Why’re you so thirsty?” You remember her whispering into your ear at the Sports Festival in your first year. The both of you were sitting in your class’s designated spots in the stands.

Your eyes had widened, scandalized. 

“I am not!”

“Please. You’re totally staring at him.”

“Who?”

“Shinsou Hitoshi.” She grinned. “Cute, right?”

Of course she paid attention when they announced his name specifically. 

You could never remember anyone’s, and she probably saw you looking at his picture for a little too long when it appeared on the Jumbotron’s screen, announcing that his match with Oijiro was about to begin. 

“Not really,” you lied, a bad attempt at feigning disinterest. 

Like your eyes hadn’t been trailing down his lean figure the moment his next match started. 

Or noticing how attractive it was the way he casually folded his arms when he taunted Midoriya, or wondering in your mind if his perpetual bed-head was as soft as it looks. 

Mina turned to you, smirking at your slightly dazed expression.

“Really? Then you wouldn’t mind if I told him you had some questions about his quirk and wanted to talk about it after this, riiight?”

“What?” You shake your head furiously. “I mean his quirk is really interesting but–ugh Mina, no!” 

“For the plot!” She waggled her eyebrows.

You nudged her knee with a huff. “I’m breaking up with you.”

“Nooo, I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” Mina eyed you cheekily. “I won’t call him over.”

“Oh thank god.”

“But only if you admit he’s your type.”

You groan. “Okay fine. I think he’s hot, happy?”

“Very.” Your best friend laughs, pure happiness indeed written all over her face. You can see the matchmaking gears already turning in her head. “I just know you too well, babe.”

You roll your eyes. “Sometimes I really wish you didn’t.”

“Come on, you guys would be so cute together though.” She sighs dreamily. “Forensic sight and mind-control? Plus you’re both hot as fuck? Talk about a power couple.”

“....I think I’m going to go sit with Yaomomo instead.”

Recalling the memory, you laugh. “I know, we kept accidentally making eye contact after your second match because our seats were right across from each other.”

“That awkward prolonged eye contact in the stands might’ve been how I started crushing on you.”

You smirk. “You had a crush on me? That's so embarrassing.”

“I know.” He rolls his eyes, softly tucking a stray hair behind your ear. “Worst decision of my life.”

You hold Hitoshi’s hand tighter as you step closer to his side to get a better view of the tank. 

“Glad the feeling is mutual.” 

You spot it before he does.

“Oh my god Toshi. We need to get this for Eri.”

He spins around from the collection of the aquarium’s official shirts for sale, a shirt with a print of a whale shark in his hands. 

“Wha–oh my god.”

Hitoshi stares at the giant penguin plushie you’re holding in front of you. 

It was bigger than you–no, bigger than him even.

“Not sure if it’s going to fit on the train home, but we’ll make it work.”

   ───────── 

"Can you teach me how to draw a unicorn too, Eri?" Hitoshi asks.

You had already asked Eri before him seconds ago so you stick your tongue out at Hitoshi, mouthing ‘copycat,’ and he tilts his head down to quickly kiss your neck, making you giggle. 

He still has a pink bow wrapped around his bicep from when you three played dress up an hour ago, and you fight the urge to laugh again at how silly he looks.

Eri is too focused on her drawings to care about either of you, and after she scribbles around a little more, she turns to face her older brother.

“Yeah!” She hands him a red crayon. “Okay, so first you draw half of a circle.”

Hitoshi follows Eri’s instructions.

He lifts his hand, which nearly covers the paper, to reveal a red ‘C’ that looks like it got run over by a truck.

“No, no not like that! Erase it.” She frowns disapprovingly, hands on her hips. “You’re really bad at this Hito-nii.”

“Please Eri-sensei. I'm trying my best.”

“Try harder!” She turns away with a huff, then peers over at your paper. 

“Ooh yours looks so good!” Eri claps, and you smile proudly. 

“It’s all thanks to you, Eri.” You reach out to fix her pigtail that was starting to slip out of the cat-patterned scrunchie, and she giggles, holding still for you. 

Hitoshi grumbles. “This smells like favoritism.”

“That’s ‘cause your unicorn looks Celery’s poop!” Eri chirps. Then she runs away to the kitchen right before you double over in laughter at Hitoshi’s extremely offended face, clutching onto his broad shoulders for support. 

“She said your drawing looks like shit!” You snort, and he groans.

Celery’s ears perk up in Hitoshi’s lap and she meows, looking in your direction. You hold out your arms. “Celery, you want uppies?”

She ignores them and decides to sit in your lap instead, purring softly.

“Mrow.”

“Yeah? And then what?” You coo, gently rubbing her fuzzy forehead, and her eyes close in contentment.

She mewls again, pawing at your sock and you laugh.

“Okay, okay I’ll tell him.” 

Looking up at Hitoshi, he tilts his head the same way Celery does when you talk to her. 

You bite back a laugh, you’re not sure who’s the cat in the room at this point.

“What did she say?” He asks you curiously.

All you do is blink slowly at him in response.

Hitoshi’s brows knit in confusion.

Then his eyes widen, a soft pink starting to color his cheeks.

Shyly, he slowly blinks back.

Suddenly, the gray-haired girl comes back from the kitchen, apples Aizawa sliced like rabbits for her on a plate in her hands. 

You’re still slowly blinking at each other as she walks through the door.

Eri looks at the both of you weirdly.

“What are you two doing?”

“Mrow.”

teehee hitoshi’s the pb to ur jelly(fish) get it

[frownyalfred]

Thinking about Bruce always feeling insecure about living up to his parents legacy, thinking about him feeling unworthy of using the master bedroom when he returned, thinking about him as Brucie uncounsciously taking his hookups to other rooms in the mansion, never to his (parent's), thinking about Bruce welcoming his kids in the master bedroom with open arms whenever they have nightmares, the same way his parents did to him, thinking about Clark feeling insecure about Bruce's true feelings towards him, thinking about Clark being totally oblivious to how big of a deal it is that he's alowed to sleep beside Bruce in the master bedroom.

The sanctity of the master bedroom is SO real. I grew up in a house with separate living quarters for staff (old old house) and the bedrooms for children were in a wing, and then the master suite and guest suites were in another section of the house. The implied distance between those sections is huge, even if they're only one closed door or a few feet away.

Bruce slowly accepting his place in the master suite -- now that's a fic I'd love to write. Keeping the hookups and random encounters to another equally lavish but different room or wing of the Manor, even. Somewhere that's easy to shuttle people in and out of, maybe near the laundry chutes or the servants' stairwells. Sleeping there even when he doesn't have guests, because the ghosts in the master suite are too much.

But maybe, once Dick is living with him, he can't justify it -- the master suite is near the children's rooms, and sleeping on another floor, away from a traumatized child, seems like a terrible idea. Alfred's rooms are too far away, nestled somewhere in the servants' quarters even though Bruce keeps trying to get him to take a guest suite.

So he takes over the suite, making it his own slowly but surely. Yet leaving portions of it untouched -- maybe the old floor to ceiling drapes, with their antiquated trim and beads. The double sinks in the en suite, made for a couple. He removes the four poster bed for a california king, modern enough to dispel any mental similarities. Big enough for a kid to come and hide, after a nightmare.

Clark being allowed in that room, even near that portion of the Manor? That's a huge step forward, a huge display of vulnerability and trust. It's not just Bruce's room, it's his parents' room, it's just off the children's wing, it is in many ways the heart of the residential portion of the Manor. All hallways, servant corridors, etc, lead there. And the more people that stay there, the more that suite is viewed truly as the center of the Manor itself, outside of the Cave and maybe Alfred's kitchen + butler's pantry.

[spyskrapbook]

"Unité d’Habitation / La Cité Radieuse", 280 Boulevard  Michelet, 13008, Marseille, France [1947-52] _ Architect: Le Corbusier _ Photos by: Spyros Kaprinis [25.05.2024].

"The building takes the form of a housing bar 135 metres long, 24 metres wide, 56 metres high and mounted on stilts. Three hundred and thirty apartments, divided into twenty-three different types, can accommodate a population of between 1,500 and 1,700 occupants having at their disposal on the seventh and eighth floors a shopping street and a hotel-restaurant, together with a kindergarten and sports facilities on the roof terrace. The constructive principle adopted, the so-called “bottle rack”, consists in building apartments inside an independent frame of posts and reinforced concrete beams. The apartments are made up of standard elements assembled on the site. All the apartments are dual-aspect, except those on the south side. A sun-break loggia provides an open-air facility at the same time as limiting exposure to sunlight. Protected by double glazing, the apartment interiors are subject to the two basic rules of naval and monastic architecture: rationalism and simplicity. The living room, open on two levels, is the nucleus of the family “home”; upstairs the parents’ room occupies the mezzanine. The kitchen is equipped like a laboratory: electric cooker, refrigerator, rubbish chute and storage racks. The entire apartment is fitted with racks replacing traditional storage. The ventilation of the kitchen, bathroom and toilets is mechanically operated, while the entire apartment is supplied with clean air by an air conditioning system. These facilities were not found in the low-cost collective housing units of the time, and the standard surface areas of the Unité d’Habitation are greater than these by between 40% and 50%. The seventeen-storeys below the terrace are connected by eight interior streets which, given the overlap of the two-storey apartments, each serve three floors. Each street is accessed by a battery of four elevators complemented by a service elevator and three emergency staircases. The entire building and its equipment are designed in terms of the Modulor, the universal measuring unit conceived by Le Corbusier."

[honey-dont]

types of freight cars

made a whole post to help ppl design stex ocs as the resident freight enthusiast :) while this isn't every freight car in existence, it's definitely a good chunk of them!

FLATCARS

The most basic type of freight car. They’re…well…flat! Designed for carrying bulky loads.

Autorack: Transport automobiles. Can have single, double, or triple levels.

Boom/Idler: Placed in front of a breakdown crane to protect the boom or in front of/behind oversized loads to protect the overhang.

Bulkhead: Have walls (bulkheads) on the end. Used to transport pipe, poles, slabs, and lumber. Prone to derailing when traveling empty and put speed restrictions on the freight train.

Centerbeam: Carry lumber. Another type is the opera (round) window style. Have to be loaded/unloaded evenly to avoid the car tipping over.

Depressed Center: Used to carry extremely heavy loads such as generators. Have a lowered (depressed) middle section.

Intermodal/Well: Carry semi-truck trailers and containers. Have a lowered bottom (well).

Skeleton/Spine: Very narrow car used to transport lumber. Has stakes on the sides. Spine cars do not have stakes and are often used for intermodal transport.

GONDOLAS

Open-topped cars that generally transport loose goods. Can also be covered. Differ from hoppers in that they have flat bottoms and have to be manually unloaded or put through a rotary dumper.

Bathtub: Transport coal. Have rounded bottoms for extra space.

Coil: Carry coils of metal. Can be open or have specialized covers to protect the cargo. Typically considered a subtype of gondola, but can also be a subtype of flatcar as well.

Side-dump: Cars tip sideways to dump loads. Often carry ballast or rocks for railbeds.

HOPPERS

Evolved from gondolas but differ in that they have sloped bottoms and discharge doors. Can be covered or uncovered, and have between two to five chutes. Open cars transport bulk goods such as coal, while covered ones carry food items.

Ore Jenny: A small, specialized hopper designed to carry large loads of iron ore from mines.

BOXCAR

Enclosed cars with side or end doors. Used for bulk commodities and for goods that need to be protected from the weather.

Stock: Used to transport livestock such as cattle, horses, sheep, and poultry. Have ventilated sides for airflow. A variant used to carry fish was attached to passenger trains and was more luxurious.

Refrigerator: Insulated and cooled cars used to transport frozen goods.

TANKERS

Used to transport liquids or gases. Can be specialized to carry hazardous materials.

Milk: Specialized tank car variant (as opposed to the boxcar variant) that carries milk. Attached to passenger trains to prevent spoilage.

Pickle: There's pickles in there! The vats were filled with vinegar.

Torpedo: Carry molten iron. Designed to withstand very high temperatures.

Whale Belly: Large tank car with a lowered midsection for additional carrying capacity.

SCHNABEL

These cars are a type all of their own. Used to transport extremely large loads by pinching it between the arms of the car.

[izzystizzys]

Die Alone: The Coruscant Guard Christmas Special

All‘s calm and quiet on Coruscant, for once - the Senate‘s either gone home to celebrate the universally beloved Xeshmas with their closest, or is attending the annual festive bash at the Spakatomi Splaza buildings, sponsored by Chandrila. At 79’s, a horde of merry Commanders get together to bask in the Xeshmas spirit (red, green and white shots) and celebrate another year survived. But wait, Bacara groans into someone’s boots only thirty minute into their jolly bash, where the kriff is Fox? Ignored the invite again?

A strange feeling comes over Cody. He spent the entire day brooding, telling everyone who would listen that he has the strangest sensation of having forgotten something important and being told it can’t be that important if he’s forgotten it (Wooley) or to quit being such a partypooper (Rex). Now, it dawns on him.

He never sent that comm to Fox.

To be entirely fair, Fox probably couldn’t have attended either way - stuck as he is as the singular vod on babysitting shift at the empty Senate building. Still, it would’ve been nice to at least hear from some of the others, considering he saw them all loiter towards the clubbing district on security cams anyways. Now, here he sits and gathers dust - as a glorified secretary while his brothers are off partying or on security detail at Spakatomi Splaza.

Fox heaves a deep sigh and traces expletives in the thin film of dust on the reception desk. One positive of this whole thing - for once, he’s safe from being accosted and having slurs thrown at him by uppity senate staff, or, Force forbid, being called on a special mission by the Chancellor. He’s safely in his Nubian mansion by now, thank the Galaxy.

Thire and Ballsy are heading the party security, which, most ridiculous kriffing thing he’s had to assign troopers to in a long time. He would’ve doomed himself to it, but the Chancellor specially requested he man the desks and empty Senate. Fox is, after all, the best of the best.

Kriffing Xeshmas parties. Mothma, who’s usually capable of critical thought, specially requested they be in softshell for this assignment - to make their guests feel more comfortable and off the clock, she told Fox with a completely straight face.

Imagine that. Off the clock. Hah.

Fox is so busy watching the imaginary off-time he’s only heard of in dreams that he doesn’t even register the sudden plunge into darkness, until he starts to blink and his brain slowly comes back online.

Well, kriff.

With a heavy, internalized eyeroll, he flicks at his vambrace. Nothing. Taps for the light-controls. Nothing. Pokes at the screens of various pads.

Nothing.

…double-kriff.

With a much more external sigh, Fox heaves himself to his feet and attempts to manually flick on his helmet lights, only to grunt out a string of curses when he realizes they shorted out along with everything else. He gropes at his belt and -

Yup, magpack on the blaster too. Great.

Fox trudges through the empty, darkened corridors with all the enthusiasm of the world’s saddest glorified customer service worker, mentally cursing all the great forces at work to create this extraordinarly shit day for him.

Mothma for throwing stupid kriffing Xeshmas parties and requesting an unreasonable amount of softshell (!) Guard for it.

Palpatine for ordering him to babysit the Galaxy’s center of operations alone.

Cody and all the rest of them for not even kriffing pretending to invite him to anything anymore.

This stupid kriffing generator for deciding to kick it at the worst possible moment, and whoever was stupid enough to make the whole Senate power grid and comm access dependent on one single kriffing -

Fox freezes, all at once.

Voices. Plural. Outside.

Slowly, Fox creeps towards the slide doors leading outside. He pries them open gently, careful not to allow for a single creak or slip that could give him away. It’s more likely to be nothing than anything, but -

“ - enter from the trash chute, while Bossk takes the staff entrance on the other side and cover more ground that way. Bane, you will screw off the vent covers through the third floor exit and -“

“I know what I’m doing”, a deep, gravelly voice interrupts that sends shivers down Fox’ spine. He’d hoped he’d never have to encounter it outside a criminal court recording again - triple kriff. “I don’t need your lectures, Sing.”

“Touchy today, are we?”, Aurra Sing says, snidely, and it begins to dawn on Fox exactly how kriffed he really is. “Relax, Bane. We know what we’re doing. The Chancellor’s treasury doesn’t stand a chance in Sith-hell.”

A low, vibrating hiss answers her, trembling with laughter. Fox has to force himself to hold his breath to keep in the expletives that want to slip free, hands cold and clammy in his gloves.

“Alright, everyone on position. We wait an hour for the commotion to really get started over at Spakatomi, and then -“

Deciding he’s heard enough, Fox carefully shifts the sliding doors back closed and inches back through the hallways with his heart hammering in his chest. Kriff, kriff and double-kriff this stupid kriffing holiday - first thing he’s doing when he gets out of this alive is outlaw the very idea of Xeshmas for all acting GAR personnel, and then he’s going to shove a Nabooian fir-tree up the ass of Jango Fett’s kriffing ghost, because somehow, this too is his fault. Fox just knows it.

First, though, he’ll have to keep three of the Galaxy’s most infamous and deadly bounty hunters from stealing Republic secrets and treasures on his own.

(Somewhere, among the debris-littered ring of planetary satellites, a string of increasingly desperate comms waits to go through:

CC-4477: FOX

CC-4477: FOX HELP

CC-4477: FOOOOOOOX

CC-4477: THERE ARE SEPPIE TERRORISTS IN THE LOBBY THEY ARE BEATING UP ORGANA

CC-4477: I AMN HIDNG I TOLET

CC-4477: Sorry for that, Commander. The situation is back under control - I have acquired a bomb. I‘m sure you‘re right outside with the others setting up a perimeter - I‘ll keep the hostages safe, ori‘vod! :) -Thire)

[unluckywisher]

MI CIELO !!!!!! DROPPING A predictable REQUEST IN YOUR INBOX BEFORE I HEAD TO SLEEP <3 anything with comfort vibes for luke (and/or?) kieran pretty pretty pleaseeeeeee 🥰🥰🥰🥰

BNUUY! Hehehe okay 🥰 (that bun is so cute i'm planting my face on its fur 😭)

Twinkle Toys was holding a promotional event as a new plushie had been introduced: The ever elusive Double Trouble, two smol round birbs stacked on top of each other. Of course, you were determined to get it.

But it was no use. The claw would drop it every time, since its shape was slippery. You had spent a lot of money by now, so you decided to take a break and visit the N109 Zone.

Sylus was away at a business meeting with a dealer, so Luke and Kieran were the ones to greet you. They were quick to notice your less-than-happy mood.

You explained the situation with the plushie. "Why don't we get it for you?" Luke suggested. "Yeah, we've had to deal with many situations in our line of work. How difficult could it be?" Added Kieran.

They changed into their 'plain clothes', much more casual - a hoodie and jeans, though they were still wearing a face mask covering the lower half of their faces and a cap to cast a shadow over their eyes.

Entering Twinkle Toys once again, they looked around with awe. It seemed like they had never been at one of these establishments.

You pointed at the accursed claw machine, housing the plushie, almost mocking you. They frowned at it, Luke pointing at his eyes with two fingers, then pointing at the plushie, and Kieran shaking his head disapprovingly at the machine. They only wanted to make you smile with their theatrics, really.

Since you had explained you had already spent a bunch of money, they refused to let you spend more. Plus, they looked really excited to try all of this for themselves.

Tray of spare change in hand, you three stood in front of the claw machine.

You were the first to try, since you had to explain the controls to them. Once again, the plushie flopped down before it could reach the exit chute. You sighed, "See?" They nodded in understanding.

Luke was next. He had a face of pure concentration, and you guessed he was probably sticking his tongue out under the mask. The claw missed the plushie completely. You had to hold back laughter. Luke facepalmed against the control panel and Kieran pat his back to comfort him.

Kieran's turn. He took his time to set the claw right above the plushie, learning from his brother's impulsiveness. It caught on, and for a moment you thought this might be it, but just like it had happened to you, it fell out of the claw's grasp. Kieran threw his hands up in frustration.

An hour went by, your hands still empty. More importantly, your tray with spare change also empty. "This this is rigged!" Luke said, kicking the bottom of the machine and regretting it fast with an 'ow'. Kieran nodded, huffing.

More than anything, you had enjoyed their reactions and their company in your misery, so you weren't that upset anymore. You shrugged, "It's okay. At least you tried. Thank you!" And hugged them both. They hugged you back.

When you pulled back, however, they had a mischievous glint in their eyes. "Why do you talk like we're done here?" "What do you mean?"

You ran. You ran so fast, giggling. There were so many plushies in your arms, in Luke's arms, in Kieran's arms... An angry Twinkle Toys employee chased you for a couple of streets, but you eventually lost him. You stopped in a hidden alley to catch your breath.

Perhaps using the twin's skills to break open the machine and get all the plushies was wrong, but with how much money you had spent already in the establishment, it was practically fair. They were very satisfied with themselves.

"Don't worry, I'll hack their cameras and erase all the footage of our crime later." Reassured Kieran. "These plushies are really cute." Said Luke, hugging all the ones in his arms.

"Well, I don't need this many plushies so, you can keep the ones you got!" You smiled. There were at least ten in your hold. "Thank you."

The tips of their ears turn visibly red. "It's nothing... We're happy we could help you!"

Their beds at Onychinus' base had been decorated with a pile of Double Troubles ever since.

[chic-a-gigot]

L'Art et la mode, no. 48, vol. 17, 28 novembre 1896, Paris. Dernières Modes. Dessin de Lucy. Bibliothèque nationale de France

Pour le Bois. Robe en cachemire double, rouge "Montmorency". Paletot droit boutonnant de côté, orné, ainsi que les épaulières, de soutache noire. Bande de même soutache à mi-jupe. Col de fourrure.

For the Woods. Double cashmere dress, red "Montmorency". Straight overcoat buttoned on the side, decorated, as well as the shoulder pads, with black soutache. Band of the same soutache at mid-skirt. Fur collar.

—

Toilette en cachemire-drap vert rameau. Corsage croisé, garni de taffetas plus foncé, retenu par trois liens de taffetas formant choux sur le côté.

Ensemble in green rameau cashmere cloth. Crossed bodice, trimmed with darker taffeta, held by three taffeta ties forming cabbages on the side.

—

Déshabillé en crêpe de Chine "soufre". Double pli séparé par le chute de dentelle surmontée d'un gros chou de satin blanc. Jabot de dentelle blanche.

"Sulfur" crepe de chine dressing gown. Double pleat separated by the lace fall topped with a large white satin choux bun. White lace jabot.

—

Toilette en velours vert. Petite veste fendue sous les bras et formant boléro derrière, en grosse guipure d'art. Grandes pointes de même guipure à la jupe.

Green velvet ensemble. Small jacket slit under the arms and forming a bolero behind, in large guipure art. Large points of the same guipure on the skirt.

—

Déshabillé en surah rose églantine, ouvert sur une blouse de mousseline de soie coupée d'entre-deux de dentelle. Revers coquillés en dentelle légère. Ceinture et choux de satin.

Negligee in eglantine pink surah, open over a silk muslin blouse cut with lace inserts. Shell lapels in light lace. Satin belt and choux buns.

[jungle-angel]

The Morning Of Mornings On The Day Of Days (Bob Floyd x Reader)

Summary: Bob and the Daggers get the opportunity of a lifetime with their grandfathers

Warnings: Parenthood, mentions of death and war etc.

Tagging: @floydsmuse @bradleybeachbabe

Normandy, France

June 6th, 2024

The buzz of the planes hummed in the ears of the Daggers as they hooked their lines and made ready to jump. Bob checked and double checked just to make sure his was ready since he would be first.

"You're doin it wrong," someone told him.

Bob looked up and sure enough, the wrong line was hooked. The old man helped him hook the proper one and at last, he was ready.

"Thanks Papa," Bob said, a little embarrassed.

"No worries bud," Lowell Floyd said with a smile. "I appreciate all of you doing this with us."

"Wouldn't have it any other way Mr. Floyd," Hangman told him with a shit eating grin.

Lowell Floyd peered out the window and saw that they were getting close to the drop zone. "S'been eighty years," he sighed. "Looks just like the day we landed here."

Bob peered out the open door and sure enough, there it was, the French coastline, just as his grandfather had described it.

"Alright guys!" Lowell announced. "Chute check!"

Everyone sounded off, one ok, two ok, three ok and so on and so forth until everyone had announced that they were good to go.

"Ready Papa?" Bob asked him.

"Ready as ever," Lowell answered with a wink of his eye.

Jake took a hard deep breath when he felt a hand clap onto his shoulder. "You're alright kiddo, I've got your back," Ed Seresin told him.

"And I've got yours Pops," Jake responded.

"Grandpa you ready?" Natasha asked.

"Ready as ever my little Birdy," Earl Trace laughed.

"Get ready Grampy we're goin in hot!" Payback told his grandfather.

"Roger Reuben, all set!" Gus Fitch answered, giving him the thumbs up.

"Pa you ready?" Coyote asked.

"Do I have to answer?" Pedro Machado responded.

"Ready when you are Pepe," Rooster called to his grandfather.

"Ready to rock'n roll Rooster, this one's for your Ma and Dad!"

"Mickey are we really jumping into Normandy?" John Garcia asked his grandson.

"Looks like it Abuelo," Mickey laughed.

"Holy shit!"

Finally, the moment of anticipation had come. The drop zone loomed well below them with others having started to parachute from the planes.

"Go! Go! Go!" Lowell ordered.

One by one, they leapt from the door, their chutes opening as the wind rushed beneath them. They clung to the lines and steered on towards the ground, praying that they didn't get caught in the trees. Bob couldn't help but laugh with relief as the ground began to come up beneath them, the anxiety from before melting away as they floated safely towards the ground.

One by one their feet met the earth and the chutes landed behind them in a heap. Bob rolled to the ground, exactly how he had been taught when right beside him landed his grandfather, laughing the entire time.

"You did good bud!" Lowell declared proudly, pulling his grandson into a tight hug.

Bob returned the hug eagerly, relieved that at last he and his grandfather had made it safely to the ground with the others. "Yo can we do that again?!" Mickey asked excitedly.

"Not unless you want somebody riding bitch," John Garcia laughed.

All of you headed back to the grounds where you met back up with your families. Auggie chirped excitedly about how Bob got to jump out of the planes along with his auntie and uncles, wishing that he could do it himself.

"Baby that was amazing!!!!" you squealed, wrapping your arms around him and planting a kiss on his lips.

"Scary as hell though," he chuckled. "Couldn't imagine doing that back in the day."

You all shared a few laughs and a few memories along the way, hearing the stories both happy and sad from the Dagger Grandads about their time overseas. You, Bob and the others left flowers at the graves and a few flags before it was time to head back to the house you were staying at. Neither of you would forget the memories that were created this day, nor would you forget those who had come before you.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for not better hiding or managing my garbage during a house party?

CW for blood mentions, in both accidental injury and menstruation.

I (22F) live in an apartment building with a weird (to me) trash policy, there are set times you can take your garbage out, with no chute or communal disposal place. If you want to take out your garbage any time that isn't part of your usual time and date slot.... you just can't. I usually try to think about my waste and disposal like days in advance just because of this, because I often have friends/ colleagues over and especially if I'm cooking or have received bulky online orders, I have to do something with the garbage if company is expected. I also live in a relatively small apartment itself and it's not like I can really hide these things - I can put cardboard away, but not actual garbage, without it likely creating more of a mess or a stink in a very small space.

All of this to say, I had a little holiday party last night. Yesterday morning, I had an accident with a carrot peeler and had to spend about half an hour on the bathroom floor trying to stop a finger cut from bleeding, cleaning the blood, wrapping the wound, bleeding through the gauze and bandaids, etc, etc. When it finally stopped, I cleaned the bathroom vigorously. Obviously. I put the bloody cottons, band-aids, wrappings, all of that, in my bathroom garbage can. The problem was, I can't get rid of my garbage until the next night (tonight at the time of writing). I put more tissue paper on top to hide it, push it to the bottom, and finally decided too to double-line it. So, in the garbage can, there was the initial liner, assorted q-tips and whatnot, the bloody stuff, more tissues and toilet paper and cotton rounds to hide it, and then another liner on top.

Later that night at some point in the party, my friend Polly (25F) went to the restroom and when she came back, she pulled me aside into my bedroom and said that she had gone to hide a tampon replacement and saw "a lot of fucking blood" in the trash and that "she would never say this to call me out or make me feel bad" but that she thought it was really gross to have it out at the party. I told her I couldn't take the trash out - she's heard me complain about the trash policy before - and I was really sorry and mortified, I thought it was hidden okay. The rest of the night I think Polly just looked really disgusted at me. I'm sitting here all morning feeling really bad, but like, also getting irritated. If she was going to hide a tampon that well, does that mean she would have dropped it into the can under the lining if there hadn't been a second lining and not said anything, which is like - I'd argue even more gross? She looked so.. I don't know how to describe it. Displeased? she absolutely was colder through the night too. I keep wondering if I should reach out and ask her if she's okay. But I mean AITA for not doing anything more with the garbage and not hiding or disposing of the blood better?

What are these acronyms?

[thedeviltohisangel]

Spook and John have my 🫶🏼. Maybe for a prompt “who did this to you” John asking Spook? I just think with her background as a spy and his protective nature, it fits them!! Can’t wait for more 🙌🏻

All The Things I Did (Interlude): I'm Such a Fool

a/n: broke my own heart with this one. introduced a very curious dynamic with harding, a little bit of solo cass and a few little fluff crumbs so you all don't hate me too much. send romance/fluff/ post-war spook and bucky??? prompts to ease my soul. i'll be waiting to chat...

The moment Colonel Harding was the one behind her office door and there was no smile on his face or flirtatious joke on his tongue, Cass knew. 

“Anyone?” 

“Rosenthal’s crew just landed. I was on my way to interrogation.” Her heart was struggling to know what to do. Seize with sadness over the loss. Hammer in her chest to keep her mind moving. Slow down so she could have a moment to think. 

“I’m coming with you.”

----

She sat silently while they went through each plane until they got to the one John had been on. The tapping of her toes only sped up when the navigator announced he saw ten chutes. “About where was that drop, Lieutenant?” The men looked over at her, Colonel Harding already gathering his breath to tell her to stand down.

“Somewhere over Westphalia, maybe, ma’am. It was…I’m sorry I don’t have anything more specific.”

“It will do just fine, Lieutenant. Thank you.” Cass tucked her notebook, she hadn’t even opened it, under her arm and barely made it out the door when Harding started calling after her.

“Cassandra! Lieutenant!” She kept walking, knowing exactly what he was going to say and knowing with certainty she was not going to listen. “Lieutenant Egan!” That made her pause.

“Who told you that?” She kept her back to him. She wasn’t sure quite yet what game he was playing.

“You don’t think your counterparts were keeping an eye on you over there?” She rolled her eyes. Men and their egos.

“Your feelings about the situation are irrelevant, Colonel. I have work to do.” Cass was going to grab her bag and go get John. 

“You’re grounded, Lieutenant. You try to leave this base and I’ll have you shipped back to the States on the next available flight.”

“Then good thing the OSS answers directly to the Joint Chiefs of Staff, Colonel.” 

----

“You shouldn’t be here so soon, Ingrid.” Cass had spent the night in an emergency safe house close to her drop site before setting off to the nearest town where Peter lived, her contact she paid to help get around Germany. Ingrid was the name he knew her by.

“I wouldn’t if it wasn’t for a good reason.” She looked around the beer hall, empty at this time of day. “I’m looking for a pilot. American. Dropped over here a day or two ago.” Peter got quiet and stopped moving the rag over the bartop. 

“Ingrid, asking about American pilots is very dangerous around here.” Her fingers flexed tightly around the glass of untouched beer she had politely paid him for. Tipped double.

“You don’t need to take me to him. I just need to know how to find him on the way to Stalag Luft.” 

“Two men were here this morning on their way to pick up bodies.” 

“Bodies?” 

“They have a spot in the middle of the woods where they bury them.” Cass closed her eyes and fought to maintain composure. There was no chance John was dead. She would have felt it. She would know in her soul. 

And when she rode the horse Peter lent her to that clearing and she saw a lifeless body lying directly in the sun like God himself wanted her to find it, she almost started to think he was gone. 

“John?” She practically fell from the horse as she realized it was him. Dropping to her knees, she grunted as she rolled him over. Her breath stopped when she got a good look at his face. Cass felt around frantically for a pulse and almost cried when she felt one thrumming against her fingertips. “Baby, you got to wake up.” She deduced he had run away from the men that were here to bury a pile of American bodies. It meant that it was only a matter of time before they either found them or sent for German soldiers. 

John thinks he heard her voice. Thinks he felt her presence above him. Thinks that meant he was dead. 

“Cass,” he moaned. His head wasn’t supposed to hurt this bad if he was dead. “Please.” Please just take me away from here, he was asking. Take me somewhere where I can be with you again.

“It’s me. You’re going to be okay. I’m going to get you out of here.” There was no chance she was going to be able to get him on the horse without his help. She draped his arm over her shoulder, his head lolling weightlessly into the crook of her neck. 

“You’re real.” 

“We have to get you up, okay? Can you help me, Johnny?” Her arm wrapped securely around his waist, steadying herself to lift. With a grunt she pushed up but only made it a few steps before she collapsed under his dead weight and hit the forest floor. She rubbed her knuckles as hard as she could against his chest in an attempt to wake him back up. “Come on, come on.” He coughed a little and his eyes fluttered open completely. 

“Cass…you can’t…be here.” She ignored him, propping him up into a sitting position and readying herself to lift him once again. “Cass, please. Go.”

“Not without you.” She had him. They were so close. She couldn’t go back now. 

“I love you, Cassandra Ann Egan.” He was saying it like it was goodbye. She wanted to respond. She wanted to cry and scream. Wanted to burn the entire world down for getting her here but not letting her have it.  Have him. But the sound of a gun cocking and a cold barrel placed to the back of her head made her freeze.

“Get away from the prisoner.” Cass willed herself to think of a way out of this. There was no way this could be the end.

“You want to point a gun at someone, point it at me.” John was sitting up straighter now. Adrenaline reaching all parts of his body. His instinct to protect simmering inside him. He reached for Cass’ arm in an attempt to drag her behind him.

“I found him bleeding while riding out to the market. Was only trying to help.” She slowly stood with her hands up, the gun lowered when the officer heard the German words coming out of her mouth. Keep talking, keep diffusing, keep distracting. 

“He’s coming with us, no need for your help.” For his part, John was using the tree he had been leaning against to pull himself up. He got his wish, the guns right back up and in his direction. 

“You get on that horse and you get somewhere safe.” He was pleading with her. Have never asked her for anything since he met her but was asking her for this. To give him the peace of mind that she was safe. 

“Ingrid, there you are!” Cass looked in horror as Peter entered into the clearing. “You’ll have to pardon her, sirs. She gets lost sometimes.” The two men from the carriage had returned to the beer hall to radio the local security forces. Unable to stop his curiosity, he had followed them to make sure she was alright.

“Enough!” One of the soldiers drew back his gun and brought it down on John’s back, his legs giving out and causing him to drop to his knees. She lurched forward with a scream, Peter grabbing her and pulling her back.

“Stop! Let me go!” 

“Get your hands off of her you son of a-” Another blow, the wind knocked out from him this time. She kicked at Peter’s legs but his grip only tightened as he began to drag her away. 

“John! John!” she screamed as tears flowed down her face. 

“Let her go! Don’t fucking touch her-Cass!” He crawled a few feet in the direction she was being dragged, kicking and screaming and writhing with the pain of leaving him behind. The next blow knocked him out cold.

----

He was certain she was dead. Certain that that was the last he would ever see of her. John had wanted to ask the interrogator. He had shown a grainy image of Cass, called her The Little Sparrow, and asked if he knew her. Knew her real name. Location. He had only smirked. That was his girl. John knows she would have been all too happy to know just how far under their skin she was. He had half a mind to ask the guards to kill him too on his way to the cell. What was the point if she wasn’t there to get home to? To fulfill the life they were foolish enough to let themselves dream about. 

Seeing Buck and the boys numbed him for a little bit. But then Buck asked about London. Asked if John had finally told Cass he loved her. If they had made plans for when this was all over. The words were lodged in John’s throat. He wanted to tell Buck he had told her he loved her over and over again. That she had finally said she loved him back. Endlessly. That they had felt in their guts they were running out of time so they had found their way to a bombed out Abbey and made it all official. But he couldn’t bring himself to talk about the good times.

“Major John Egan.” A guard appeared in the doorway. “You’ve been called back to interrogation.” He had been here a couple of days but knew enough it didn’t sound like a positive. Cass had told him of her encounters with the Gestapo. Maybe they had learned of his connection to her. Maybe that were going to try and torture the truth out of him. 

The guard led him out into the yard, passed the nicer huts where the Germans stayed and toward the remote corner where more housing was being built. It was starting to look more like a good spot for an execution. At least he would see her again. 

“Do I get my last rites?” he asked as he was ordered to stop. There was not a single other soul in sight. 

“Five minutes.” The guard walked away and John looked around in confusion. Maybe he could try and climb the fence. Maybe he could-

“Excuse me, but I’m looking for my husband.” Oh. 

“What kind of husband leaves a wife as ethereal as you all by her lonesome?” There was a chain link fence separating them but she was there. She was alive and she was there. “I thought I’d lost you.” Cass’ fingers curled into the fence and resting her head on the cool metal, his skin finding hers in one of the openings. 

“Me too. But we’ve been fucking with all plans the Germans have for us, haven’t we?” He smiled and wished he could touch her more fully. Wished he could kiss her and twirl her hair around his finger and feel the rise and fall of her breath against his chest.

“We should never have left London,” he whispered. 

“We’ll get back there-” Her words paused as she sucked in a breath of pain. John gripped the fence tighter. She lifted her shirt and John noticed a deep purple bruise along her ribcage. “Definitely broken,” she wheezed.

“Someone do that to you?” 

“You’re not supposed to be worrying about me, John.”

“Who did this to you?” 

“I had a run in with a guard on my way in. He propositioned me and didn’t like that I turned him down.”

“Would you be mad if I killed him?” There was no humor in his tone. His request for her permission was actual. 

“I don’t want you in here any longer than you already are. We made a lot of plans we have to follow through on.” Cass couldn’t help the tears that pricked at the corners of her eyes. 

“I owe you a real wedding,” she hummed in agreement, “some little Bucky’s and little Spook’s,” she leaned in as close as she could, “and that house by the ocean.” She had talked about a house she walked by every summer as a little girl. Thought it was a castle and dreamt of living there with her books and her farm dogs and her own family. Bucky was going to buy it for her if it was the last thing he ever did. 

“I’m going to visit as much as I can. I’ll write to you everyday.” She had noticed the guard approaching again. Their time together was coming to a close. “I love you more than anything else in the entire world,” she said the words as if they were the most sacred. After John had jumped the gun with his feelings weeks ago, she had made him work for the words to be echoed back. He was more addicted to her love than cigarettes.

“I love you, too, Cass. Promise me you’ll always know that. No matter how long it takes for me to get back to you.” 

“I’ll be right here waiting for you. I promise.” Their lips met in one of the diamond gaps, both of them trying to portray everything they felt in the soul. 

“Time’s up.” 

“Let me look at you. Just one more minute.” He wanted to be sure he was able to commit her to memory. Every little detail. Didn’t want to forget a single beauty mark. A single scar. The curve of her top lip or the way her eyelashes looked when they fluttered closed. 

“Now, Major.” The grip on his arm was firm, John practically being dragged away as Cass just pressed herself closer and closer into the fence. He never took his eyes off of her, silently mouthing his love for her one last time before he was around the corner and she was out of his sight. 

“Do me a favor, sir?” The guard stopped and looked at him. “Point me in the direction of the guard that put his hands on my wife.”

[literatecowboy]

Dr. Feelgood

9. Seek and Destroy (the Captain's Vestigial Organs)

Summary: You've been in trouble at work several times before for "lack of professionalism" but now you've gone too far. You've been reassigned to Task Force 141 as a temporary doctor to replace the ones they've made quit out of frustration. You must either prove yourself and earn your former position back at a prestigious military hospital in California or face dishonorable discharge. Author's Notes: Fucked up the first upload of this sorry!! Warnings: Medical gore, appendix rupture, home surgery, angst, fluff, unsanitary medical procedures

-----

As the weeks and months passed, your relationship with Simon only grew stronger. He’d begun going on missions again with the rest of the squad, and more and more frequently, you’d been taken along with them. 

You were lying in bed reading one night before a mission when Simon entered the room. He’d been sleeping beside you each night, so his appearance wasn’t a strange one, but you could sense his worry as he shut the door and pulled his hoodie over his head. 

“What’s wrong?” you asked, frowning and setting your book aside. 

“Worried about Price. Just caught him in the kitchen, and doubled over. Was clutchin’ his stomach like it was killin’ him.” he said, setting his clothes to the side and tugging on a pair of sweatpants to sleep in. 

“Did he say anything?” you asked, sliding out of bed and putting your slippers in. 

“No, didn’t see me,” Simon said with a shrug, sitting down on the bed.

“I’ll go knock on his door. I’ll be back soon,” you said, pressing a kiss to his cheek 

—

Your room wasn’t far from Price’s and it didn’t take you long to reach the door. You didn’t hesitate before knocking and calling out. 

“Captain? Can I speak to you?” you called softly. 

“Come in,” he called. You pushed the door open and slipped inside, closing the door behind you. Captain Price was sitting at his desk going over last-minute intel. 

“Heard you weren’t feeling well. Care to tell me why you didn’t come to see me?” you asked, taking a seat in the armchair near the desk and raising an eyebrow at him. 

“What’re you, the KGB? Call off your spies,” he said with a chuckle, not looking up. 

“You’re avoiding the question, Captain. What’s wrong?” you asked. 

“Indigestion. That’s all, doc. I’m alright.” he said, finally sparing you a glance. 

“Can I get you to take an antacid?” you asked. 

“No, I’ll be alright.” 

You sighed and sat for a moment before rising. 

“John, I’m not trying to mother or nag you - I care about you,” you said. “I don’t say anything about the cigars anymore and I let you weasel out of your physical, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to let you ignore your health,” you said. John sighed. 

“I know you care - I’m not trying to be rude when I brush you off. I’ll…come to you for help when I really need it, that’s all,” he said. 

“You’d never be troubling me, I hope you know that,” you said. Price nodded. 

“Thank you, doc,” he said. You turned and slipped back out the door. 

—

The next morning came quickly and brought the departure for the mission with it. A lengthy flight carried you and your teammates far out of the country during which you did your best to keep an eye on Price while chatting with Soap and Gaz. 

Eventually the conversations petered out. When the captain fell asleep, you took the opportunity to snag the seat next to Ghost and nap on his shoulder as he browsed through his phone. 

The flight was the easy part. You wouldn’t be welcomed with open arms by the traffickers you’d been sent to destroy so parachuting in was your only option. Price went first, followed by Soap and Gaz. You dove after with Ghost taking the rear. 

This mission was a serious one, but Ghost caught up to you and took your hand anyway. You fell together until it was time to pull the cord on your parachute. 

Your landing was thankfully soft and you cut free of your chute, stashing it in a ditch and kicking sticks and leaves over it before regrouping with the others. The trek to the safehouse was easy, a run down little hovel just outside city limits. 

It was late when you settled in. There was only one bedroom and the bathroom was run down so everyone skipped showering and spread out bedrolls before congregating in the kitchen around the dinky little table to eat MRE’s. 

“I’m glad we got more practice with parachuting before we left. Haven’t had to do that in years,” you said, shoveling lukewarm “ravioli” from its packaging and into your mouth. Gaz shivered. 

“I hate that. Falling, it’s just so unnerving,” he said, shaking his head. 

“You just don’t want tae lose your hat in the wind.” Soap said with a grin, plucking the thing off Gaz’s head and putting it on his own. Gaz snatched it back and they started to wrestle over it until Price cleared his throat. 

“I’m off to get some rest. Don’t have much of an appetite for this.” you noticed he winced as he stood and frowned at his nearly untouched food. Ghost nudged you under the table and you rose, following the captain out of the room. 

“Price, you need to be honest with me. Are you okay? I know the MREs are shitty but you didn’t touch your breakfast either,” you said, sitting down on the couch across from him. 

“Just some stomach pain, doc, I–” Price let out a pain-filled gasp, his hand flying to his right side. His eyes squeezed shut and he leaned back against the couch, his large frame trembling. 

“Deep breaths, Captain. How long has this been going on?” you asked as calmly as you could, springing to your feet and kneeling beside him as he lay down across the couch. 

“Two- ugh- days,” he gasped, wincing and tensing as pain shot through him again. 

“Your abdomen - lower or upper?” you asked, lifting his shirt and thanking God he’d taken his tac gear off when the team had settled in. 

“Low, low down,” he grunted, patting his navel. 

“At your belly button - has it gone to the right since?” you asked, gently putting pressure on his stomach. Price responded by throwing up on the floor beside where you knelt, gasping and retching. 

This got everyone’s attention and the rest of the men came in from the kitchen. Ghost held Soap and Gaz back as they tried to rush to the Captain’s side. 

“Give ‘er space to work,” he grumbled. 

“Ghost, call back to command - see if we can get an emergency medical evac,” you said, reaching over into your bag and cracking open an ice pack. You wrapped it in gauze and pressed it gently to Price’s forehead, standing. 

“An evac? What is it?” Gaz asked, reaching for his radio with worry in his eyes. 

“Diagnose me, doc,” Price rasped, wincing as pain shot through him once more. 

“My money’s on your appendix. We need to get you to a hospital as soon as we can so I can operate.” you said, standing to fetch your supplies. As Gaz and Soap disappeared to contact command, Ghost came to assist you. 

“Is there anything you can do here?” he asked, watching as you put gloves on and began drawing up medication to help with the pain. 

“Make him comfortable until we evacuate. Operating here would almost definitely result in an infection.” you said, turning back to Price with a syringe of pain medication drawn. 

“Might not have a choice.” Ghost grumbled, gazing out the window. It had begun to snow. 

—

Hours later you stood, pacing in front of the large windows of the safehouse. The snow had only begun to fall more heavily - it was turning into a blizzard. Gaz approached, shaking his head. 

“Still nothing?” you asked, doing your best to keep your voice steady. He shook his head. 

“Ghost is still on the phone with command, but with the weather, it doesn’t look like anyone will be able to get to us safely for a few days.” he said. The silence that followed was only broken when Price spoke up. 

“Get it out of me, doc,” he groaned, half delirious because of the pain medicine. Soap looked up at you from where he sat at his captain’s side. 

“I don’t want to risk you getting an infection. I don’t have the proper sterile environment to safely operate.” you said, shaking your head, unable to meet his eyes. 

“What’s worse - leaving this untreated for days, or operating and treating any potential infection when we get back to base?” Gaz asked, sitting down beside where Price lay. You stayed quiet. 

“I trust you, doctor,” Price rasped. His face was pale and sweat soaked - he looked terrible. 

“I think it’s four to one in favor of operating, love,” Ghost said, making you jump as he came up behind you and rested his hand gently on your back. You sighed. 

“Clear the table in the kitchen and round up all of the cleaning and medical supplies we have.”

—

If you hadn’t been fired before, you’d most definitely be fired for this. 

You stood in the dingy kitchen (officially the weirdest place you’d ever operated on anyone) facing your tools and your temporary assistants. Price lay on the table, unconscious and wrapped in a paper medical gown. Without access to anesthesia, you’d opted to give him a large dose of pain medication that would hopefully keep him asleep through the procedure. 

You had to admit that as goofy as they looked, you were quite proud of the 141 for following your instructions so diligently. At your instruction they’d all scrubbed their hands clean and donned the same paper gowns as Price. Bonnets had come next, then goggles and masks and gloves. Ghost had even taken off his balaclava.

You’d done your best to sterilize the place - the table on which Price lay had been thoroughly disinfected before being covered in plastic wrap and a layer of paper gowns. You’d done your best to keep everything cohesively one color and had firmly instructed the boys “not to touch anything blue or I will kill you.”

The kitchen lights overhead had been supplemented by all of the lamps in the house and you were satisfied by the light level as you gently shaved the area on which you would operate and disinfected the skin around it. 

Soap was waiting behind you with a biohazard container and took the used instruments away when you were finished. 

“Gaz, would you hand me my scalpel?” you asked. He retrieved it from the tray dutifully and offered it to you. You took a deep breath and made the incision. Price didn’t stir.

As gently as you could, you separated the abdominal muscles and made contact with Price’s appendix. The thing had certainly burst, and you flushed the incision with saline before going in with your needle. 

As quickly and carefully as you could, you clamped off the appendix from the rest of the colon and tightly sutured it off. Once everything was ready, you freed the appendix from its place and lifted it out of the body, depositing it into a waiting container offered up by a pale Soap. You released the clamp and checked your work, ensuring you were satisfied before flushing the wound with saline again. 

Once you were satisfied with the work you’d done, you let the abdominal muscles settle back into place over the organs and took hold of the sterilized suture kit offered by Ghost. The wound was closed without issue and you moved in to bandage it instantly, taping large gauze pads to Price’s side. 

“Should be good,” you said, nodding and looking up at your assistants. “Let’s get him to bed.”

—

Hours later, after having settled Price into bed and thoroughly cleaning the kitchen, you laid on your bedroll pondering whether you’d get a severance package or not. 

The door opened and Ghost came in from outside, shaking snow off of his boots and taking his jacket off. The icy wind that blasted you in the face when the door slammed shut almost felt good. He came and knelt beside you, running his fingers through your hair. 

“You alright?” he asked. You sighed and shook your head. 

“Counting down the hours until my court martial for killing my captain,” you said with a thin smile. Ghost climbed onto the bedroll beside you and pulled you into his arms, pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

“Won’t let that happen. Had no choice in the matter. It won’t be as bad as you think,” he murmured. You shrugged, tears welling in your eyes. 

“Simon, I’m scared. What if he gets an infection? What if he dies and it’s all my fault? I won’t be able to live with myself. He hasn’t woken up,” you wailed, burying your face in his chest as you cried. He rubbed your back comfortingly, resting his chin on your head. 

“Price isn’t going to die, love. He’ll be alright.” he said softly. 

“What if he doesn’t wake up? I didn’t know what the fuck I was doing, I’m not an anesthesiologist! That was so stupid of me,” you wailed. Before Simon could reply, there were hurried footsteps from the other room and Soap burst in.

“Price is awake!”

-----

taglist: @iamaliceinwonderland, @itsmeamysworld, @ghostlythots, @oranoyaora, @keiva1000

[tgmsunmontue]

You need to learn how to fall 4/10

Hangster (and IceMav) - Bradley is too tall to be a naval aviator and instead becomes a sky diver, specialising in spin recovery. He is a civilian contractor to the Air Force and Navy to teach pilots how to survive parachute spins from ejections. A more in-depth version of this post.

PROLOGUE 2003-2006 2007-2010

2011-2015 – The later years

                He’s approached about doing his doctorate and he does a double-take, reading through the email again. They’ll pay him a stipend, as well as his study costs, and his travel to a variety of free fall simulators around the world in order to carry out research. It seems too good to be true, so he reads through it carefully. And then again. It’s specifically for military freefall (MFF), which includes both high altitude low opening (HALO) and high altitude high opening (HAHO) operations. They’re versatile techniques used by Special Forces and Bradley is already familiar with the Free Fall Analysis and Simulation Tool (FAST). He’d be building on the work already undertaken, further developing understanding of dynamics of MFF and spin recovery.

                Holy shit.

                Holy.

                Fucking.

                Shit.

                He prints it off the email and contract that came as an attachment and takes it to show Ice and Mav, wants them to look it over incase he’s missed something. Is quiet while they read through it, Ice reading over Mav’s shoulder.

                “Do you want to go back and study?”

                “I hadn’t thought about it to be honest. But this would be so cool…”

                “It’s not here, but sounds like they’re flexible around location. And would pay for your travel and accommodation. This is a very generous offer…” Ice says, and his eyes are narrowed and he looks suspicious; Bradley knows then that he’s going to find a catch. He knew it was going to be too good to be true.

                “Your name needs to stay on the research. Any papers they publish in the future, they need to reference you by your name, not the funder of the study. Add a clause that states until you have, say, twenty publications, you remain a key contributor.”

                Bradley hadn’t thought that was a big deal, but he shrugs, guesses Ice knows better than him.

                “That’s assuming you want to go into research and doing this for something other than just… for the fun of it?” Ice says, his tone shifting and Bradley realizes that he was maybe reading it as if he himself was going to do it and why would Ice want to be involved… It’s then that he realizes that he could potentially save lives with research. Knowing how to fall out of plane, work a chute, get out of a spin fast, land. Those are all skills that you can learn, that’s he’s learnt, is busy perfecting and practicing as much as he can.

                “Yeah. This would be great to do too.”

…             …             …

                Tom stares at the press release, the word CONFIDENTIAL stamped through as a watermark. His hands shake a little before he catches it and stills them. He can marry Maverick. Don’t Ask Don’t Tell is being repealed. After tomorrow his proposal of a year and a half ago could actually mean a wedding. He doesn’t want a wedding, not really. What he wants is to be married to Pete, and not have his career suffer for it. Although he’s definitely decided to fuck off and leave the Navy if they have a problem with him and his life with Pete. There are some things more important than the Navy, and while it may have taken him a few years to realize it, his cancer had been a good reminder. He pushes back from his desk and goes to find the man in question, of course in the garage tinkering on the one bike Tom lets him keep at the house. If he didn’t place limits their place would resemble a junkyard.

                “I love you…” he says, and it’s quiet words and Pete immediately looks to him, grinning and abandoning whatever it is he’s working on, wiping his hands on a rag and stepping in close.

                “I love you too… what brought this on? Empty house?” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, like Bradley being away somehow offers more freedom when he has a completely separate

                “Hmm,” he hums, noncommittal. “If we could get married tomorrow what would you want?”

                “Uh… what do you mean?”

                “Lots of people? Us in our dress whites? Flowers? Big sit-down meal?” Tom asks, thinking about the weddings he’s been to.

                “Uh… what? What’s wrong? Why are you asking me this? Ice? Tom…?”

                He realizes then that Pete thinks that maybe the cancer is back and he shakes his head.

                “I’m perfectly healthy, and I’ll prove it to you later. Just let me dream…”

                “What would you want?”

                “Just us and Bradley, maybe Slider and his family. Quiet and not a big fuss.”

                “Yeah, that sounds perfect.”

…             …             …

                His first time in a free fall simulator is fun for the novelty aspect. It’s nothing like actual skydiving but the amount of data they can collect is immense, and he gets to try out some risky moves he wouldn’t actually ever attempt in the air. It’s exhilarating when some of them pay off and sobering when they don’t. Working with people who find skydiving as exhilarating and as interesting as he does is a separate thrill and results in his first long-term serious relationship. She’s whip-crack smart, challenges his ideas and best of all she gets on with both Mav and Ice. When they end things after nearly three years they remain friends.

…             …             …

                Pete watches Bradley walk across the stage to accept his doctorate and claps until his hands are red and painful. Grins at Ice, brushes his fingers over the platinum band on Ice’s ring finger in his silent way of saying I love you.

                “Our son is a doctor of skydiving…”

                “No. He has a doctorate in physics. There is a difference.”

                “Doctor of skydiving sounds cooler…”

PROLOGUE TAKE 2 - 2016 onwards (NEXT PART)

[hometoursandotherstuff]

This 2019 castle house in St. George, Utah has been removed from the market. 8bds, 10ba, last year assessed at $5,052,900. I'm thinking that it hasn't sold b/c it's kind of cold and in some areas, creepy. Take a look at this one.

Look at the sheer size of the vast grand entrance hall. Yikes! There's a TV over by the corner fireplace. Is this supposed to be a living room? Can you imagine the utility bill in this place?

The kitchen and everyday dining area. Wow, I wonder if that light fixture is a real Chihuly.

The kitchen's huge and has sleek black cabinetry. I think that the area to the right must be for a dining room.

Looks like a pantry.

The laundry room is like a laundromat.

Huge home office.

I don't know what this is. Could be the home theater?

This is fun. Two chutes that come down to land in a foam pit.

Well, let's go upstairs and check out the bedrooms.

There's a fireplace and den type area on the upstairs landing.

Not lovin' the primary bedroom. It's gigantic, but kind of cold.

The closet looks like it has a pulley system for the clothing on the upper racks.

The en-suite has a tub in the middle separating a double shower.

Here's one of the other 8 bds.

And, its en-suite.

This looks like a children's room, so I wonder if this is where the chutes to the foam pit come down from.

Another bedroom with an en-suite.

This is the most interesting bedroom and en-suite.

Here's a covered patio, but the grounds aren't finished yet.

See, it's just dirt.

I imagine that there will be a pool and everything.

Actually, according to the plans, it looks like 2 pools or a pool and a pond.

Plus there's also an apt. Maybe it's for a caretaker.

[spyskrapbook]

"Unité d’Habitation / La Cité Radieuse", 280 Boulevard  Michelet, 13008, Marseille, France [1947-52] _ Architect: Le Corbusier _ Photos by: Spyros Kaprinis [25.05.2024].

"The building takes the form of a housing bar 135 metres long, 24 metres wide, 56 metres high and mounted on stilts. Three hundred and thirty apartments, divided into twenty-three different types, can accommodate a population of between 1,500 and 1,700 occupants having at their disposal on the seventh and eighth floors a shopping street and a hotel-restaurant, together with a kindergarten and sports facilities on the roof terrace. The constructive principle adopted, the so-called “bottle rack”, consists in building apartments inside an independent frame of posts and reinforced concrete beams. The apartments are made up of standard elements assembled on the site. All the apartments are dual-aspect, except those on the south side. A sun-break loggia provides an open-air facility at the same time as limiting exposure to sunlight. Protected by double glazing, the apartment interiors are subject to the two basic rules of naval and monastic architecture: rationalism and simplicity. The living room, open on two levels, is the nucleus of the family “home”; upstairs the parents’ room occupies the mezzanine. The kitchen is equipped like a laboratory: electric cooker, refrigerator, rubbish chute and storage racks. The entire apartment is fitted with racks replacing traditional storage. The ventilation of the kitchen, bathroom and toilets is mechanically operated, while the entire apartment is supplied with clean air by an air conditioning system. These facilities were not found in the low-cost collective housing units of the time, and the standard surface areas of the Unité d’Habitation are greater than these by between 40% and 50%. The seventeen-storeys below the terrace are connected by eight interior streets which, given the overlap of the two-storey apartments, each serve three floors. Each street is accessed by a battery of four elevators complemented by a service elevator and three emergency staircases. The entire building and its equipment are designed in terms of the Modulor, the universal measuring unit conceived by Le Corbusier."