#Hi-Ho Chorus

[jolikmc]

A Daffy Dwarf uses Hi-Ho Chrous on the party. Chrono Cross (1999)

[barstoolblues]

go here :)

[obstinaterixatrix]

my memory’s pretty spotty but surprisingly I remember a fair amount of lyrics from a song I haven’t listened to since… at minimum 7 years

[bucksboobs]

On their way to a fire, Buck opens his big mouth and says something very stupid. Not an unusual occurrence but this one is unique: “Hey, Hen? Can I ask you a gay people question?”

Hen side-eyes him. “Are you sure now’s the best time?” The engine shakes on its suspension.

Buck blusters forward. “So Tommy and I have been dating a month and a half now.” The mention of Tommy grabs both Chim and Eddie’s attention.

“Wait, really?” Chim asks, Hen’s not sure if he thought it was shorter or longer than that. His memory of time seems to be the worst hit by the encephalitis.

“2 months next Thursday.” Eddie says.

“Y-yeah… that’s right.” Buck raises his eyebrows at Eddie. The rest all stare, Hen included. Those two have always been locked at the hip but knowing each other’s anniversaries seems excessive. Buck seems to agree.

“How do you know that?” She asks.

“Their first date was the same day I asked Marisol to move in with me.”

“When did Marisol move in with you?” Hen and Chimney ask in unison. Last she heard about Marisol she had only just met Chris, moving in seemed a long way off for them. Since when was she living with him?

“She didn’t” Bobby answers, giving his sternest glare to the rear view mirror. Hen knows this means she’s in charge of keeping these fools in check so he can focus on driving.

“Yeah we decided against that. Anyway Buck you were talking about Tommy?” Hen stifles a laugh. There was a story there she was going to have to wring out of Bobby because Eddie’s deflection abilities are legendary.

“Yeah so- um- ho-how long before we can uh…”Hen cocks her head. What exactly is Buck after with Tommy right now, they’re not nearly to the point of I love yous and she doesn’t think Buck would be this nervous about dating advice. “I mean how long did you and Karen wait until you, uh” Oh.

“Had sex?” Hen asks bluntly.

“Whoa, you and Tommy haven’t had sex yet?” Chimney asks, astonished.

“Buck when’s the last time you waited this long with anyone?” Eddie asks with a cocked eyebrow.

“Never? Maybe high school?” That tracks.

“Or Abby.” Chim offers. Buck winces at that. She knows that woman did him dirty, looks like the scar still aches.

“Six minutes to ETA.” Comes from the drivers seat. “5 and a half…” Bobby takes a sharp turn that shakes the whole truck. “5 minutes.”

“So how do I ask him to fuck me.”

A chorus of “BUCK!” rings through the truck. Eddie looks petrified at the idea of his best friends having sex with each other, Chim looks exhausted with his brother-in-law of barely a month and look, Hen would give the world to see this kid happy but sometimes he’s just too stupid for his own good.

“Buck. I think you need to remember Tommy doesn’t have a lot of experience in this area either.”

“He doesn’t?”

“Did you forget he’s only been out as long as you’ve been at the 118?” Hen learned that about Tommy from Buck’s gushing the day after the wedding. She’d also talked to him in a fluorescent lit waiting room after the most gorgeous hospital ceremony she’s ever been a part of, so she’s aware that he’s not used to being with men that want more than just sex from him. “He might think you’re just as nervous as he is.”

“I didn’t know he got nervous.”

Chim huffs at that. “Next time you see him ask him to tell you a story about a rooster.” That makes Hen smile.

“He probably won’t believe you’re ready until you can talk to him about it.”

“I don’t— I-it usually just kind of happens. You get a look, there’s a nod, they look at your lips and lean in…”

“Yeah but that was women who knew what they wanted and what you wanted. Tommy won’t know unless you tell him what you’re ready for.”

“So to get him to fuck me I have to tell him to fuck me?”

“Jesus, Buck. Yes.” Hen laughs. They are, thankfully, finally pulling to site so she doesn’t have to enumerate exactly how he needs to ask. If she did she’d have to explain birds and bees that she is not the best person to explain.

“Come on, kids, let’s save some lives.” Bobby calls as he pulls the parking break.

The fire looks pretty bad, two story house, they’ll have to split up by floor. As they gear up Buck says, privately, off-mic. “Thanks Hen, you’re a good Gay Yoda”

“Do him or do not, there is no try.”

[zweigsangel]

girl pls do another hockey chrisss 😪😪 im obsessed (ily) xoxo 💫

hockeyplayer!chris catches ballerina!reader talking about him w her friends ── .✦ divider: @faeberrywine

it was a familiar routine for you. for all of you. the dance studio’s locker room was always filled with soft chatter and the sound of zippers being pulled open, bags carelessly thrown into the corners. you and your dance companions would sit in a loose circle on the floor, legs crossed, dressed in your casual clothes after class, hair still damp from sweat. the smell of perfume and deodorant mixed with the faint scent of the wooden floor, the air warm from the workout.

“so, tell us about chris!” one of the girls teased, her voice light and curious, a smirk on her lips. all eyes turned to you, their faces expectant, as if this was the highlight of the post-class ritual. giggles bubbled up from the group.

they knew about him. of course, they did. they had seen him waiting outside, leaning casually against the doorframe, hands in his pockets, always there at the same time to pick you up. it had become a regular sight, and with each class, their curiosity grew.

you tried to fight it, tried to suppress the smile that was already tugging at the corners of your mouth. biting your lip, you glanced down, but it was no use. every time someone mentioned his name, it was like your face had a mind of its own. you couldn’t stop the warmth that spread across your cheeks, the small smile that crept up despite yourself.

“he’s…” you paused, the words lingering on your tongue, before you finally gave in, “he’s amazing. perfect.” the girls erupted into more giggles, nudging each other knowingly.

“he's just... different,” you continued, your voice barely above a whisper, but in that intimate space, everyone heard you. “he listens, y’know? like, really listens. when i'm with him, it feels like... like i can really be myself.”

there was a brief pause, the kind where you could almost feel everyone processing your words. then, a chorus of sighs erupted from the group, exaggerated but playful. “ugh, stop, you're making it impossible for the rest of us!” one of them groaned dramatically, tossing her head back.

you laughed, shaking your head, the warmth in your chest growing. one of the girls leaned in, her eyes wide with mock envy, “you're basically living in a rom-com!”

the room was filled with teasing smiles and shared glances, the kind of easy connection that came from being young and in the midst of discovering love, even if only through each other’s stories.

“and he does this thing where he—“ you started, a soft smile playing on your lips as you remembered the way he always brushed a strand of hair behind your ear when you talked, like it was second nature to him. but before you could finish, the door to the locker room creaked open, and there he was. chris, leaning casually in the doorway, one hand resting against the frame, the other tucked into his pocket. his eyes found yours immediately, and that familiar, effortless smile spread across his face.

“all set, angel?” the room fell silent for a beat, and you could feel every pair of eyes on you, the teasing smirks practically glowing in the air. “speak of the devil...”one of the girls whispered, breaking the silence with a round of chuckles.

you rolled your eyes playfully at your friends, grabbing your bag and standing up. as you walked toward the door, with chris waiting there with his relaxed smile, almost instantly, the the girls exclaimed, “byee!” their voices exaggerated, hands waving dramatically like they were sending you off after a performance.

chris raised an eyebrow, amused, and gave a small wave, playing along perfectly. “bye, girls,” he responded, as he casually slipped his arm around your shoulder and the two of you headed for the door.

their laughter echoed behind you as you left, and you shook your head, grinning to yourself. he grabbed your bag with his other arm, effortlessly slinging it over his shoulder. “how are you?” you asked, a soft smile on your face as you looked up at him.

“good, good,” he replied casually, then a small grin tugged at the corner of his mouth as he glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. “so, i'm perfect, huh?”

your eyes widened in surprise for a second, heat rushing to your cheeks. you playfully shoved his arm, realizing he'd overheard the conversation in the locker room. “oh my god! you heard that!”

he chuckled, clearly enjoying your reaction. “just caught the end of it,” he teased, “but don’t worry, i won’t let it go to my head... too much.”

before you could respond, he tightened his arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer. with a soft laugh, he leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to your forehead, his lips warm and comforting. “you are perfect, angel,” he murmured, and in that moment, you couldn’t be happier.

[tetheredfeathers]

Beach scene.

"I do," I say. "I need you." He looks upset, takes a deep breath as if to begin a long argument, and that's no good, no good at all, because he'll start going on about Prim and my mother and everything and I'll just get confused. So before he can talk, I stop his lips with a kiss.

I feel that thing again. The thing I only felt once before. In the cave last year, when I was trying to get Haymitch to send us food. I kissed Peeta about a thousand times during those Games and after. But there was only one kiss that made me feel something stir deep inside. Only one that made me want more. But my head wound started bleeding and he made me lie down. This time, there is nothing but us to interrupt us.

My hands cup either side of his face, his stubble feels rough against my smooth hands. My cold lips envelop his impossibly warm ones, my hands make their way around the nape of his neck, and a sudden desire to pull on his golden curls overtakes me. A certain urgency invades my senses. I lose comprehension of reality and the gravity of the situation we are in.

His hands come around my shoulders to caress me, I think, until he pushes me away. My face surges with embarrassment. In what world would Peeta refuse my kisses? Is he out of his mind?

"Katn-iss, lo-ve, listen," he attempts to speak as I slither my hands down his waist, lifting the hem of his undershirt. "Yo-u're the one w-ho should—"

My heart races as his swollen lips form the word "love." Is he saying this for the audience, or does he really want to call me love? I am his love, aren't I? I think of a world where Peeta would come home from work every day and say, "Love, I'm home." Oh, how I would long for him all day, both our faces lighting up brighter than every star collected as we make our way to each other.

"Don't 'love' me," I spit, fuming at his selflessness. How dare he try to sacrifice himself for me? How dare he think I could survive one day on this earth without him? How dare he not realize how much I need him? My body heaves with anger and passion, lighting an ethereal flame as I engulf his lips once again. I lose all restraint, one hand aggressively tugging at his blonde locks and the other swiftly removing his shirt. I absorb his words with my mouth, sliding my tongue across his upper lip. A breathy sigh escapes from his mouth, sending shooting stars into my head. He finally gives in and unlatches his lips, allowing my tongue to enter. His tongue is no competition for mine; I push him over and explore his mouth with unearthly desire.

In the caressing silence that follows, I find myself on top of him, straddling his lap. I grind my hips against him, breathing out his name as I feel his arousal against my core. His burning chest heaves harder against me as he peppers my neck with kisses, working his way to my ear. Overwhelmed with desire to become one with him, every inch of my body buzzes with electricity. A peculiar place in my body pulsates with energy, only slightly relieved when my hips grind against him. I want every inch of his body enveloping mine, covering me and holding me ever so tightly.

The rough pads of his fingers brush ever so slightly against my breasts, making me arch my back against him. He smirks mischievously against my collarbone, proud of the reaction he is able to elicit just through a slight brush. Oh two can plan the game, Mellark. Just you wait.

I glide my nails over his back, finally resting my hands on his hips, pulling him ardently against that spot that's begging for relief. His hips buck aginst mine as my mouth lays wet, open mouthed kisses all over his golden neck; Our moans chorus through the dead of the night as the breeze envelops our tangled silhouettes.

His stocky build flushes against my soft curves, reminding me of all those nights on the train. Why hadn't I tried this sooner? Why hadn't I realized that he is the only boy I really need? Why hadn't I understood that I physically cannot survive without him?

What if this could be it? What if one day I could take Peeta to the meadow behind my old house with miniature versions of ourselves? A small girl with black hair, blue eyes, and a little boy with blonde hair, grey eyes. Somehow under the hot, pink sky and the gritty sand digging underneath our feet, I imagine a world where my beautiful my boy with the bread could be a father.

The sensation inside me grows warmer and spreads out from my chest, down through my body, out along my arms and legs, to the tips of my being. Instead of satisfying me, the kisses have the opposite effect, of making my need greater. I thought I was something of an expert on hunger, but this is an entirely new kind.

It's the first crack of the lightning storm - the bolt hitting the tree at midnight - that brings us to our senses. It rouses Finnick as well. He sits up with a sharp cry. I see his fingers digging into the sand as he reassures himself that whatever nightmare he inhabited wasn't real.

[ourmadmusings]

We’re no worse off than the worse of them - 

It was obvious how soft he was for you. Gwen noticed as soon as she joined, the way his smile lingered long after you’d left, the way he’d follow you around the citadel like a lost puppy when you came back from a particularly risky mission, the way he’d actually listen to your advice and hear you out. His word was not final with you around, an interesting shift in dynamic compared to what she was used to. Hobie and Peter B. saw it, too. The way the two of you worked together on missions was like watching a well-rehearsed dance, to which the steps were borne to you both so naturally. You both played nice together, an odd juxtaposition to his usual lone-wolf routine.  You teased at him, poked fun at the way he’d grumble at the team, reminding him to play nice, they all had the universe’s best interest in mind, no matter how differently they went about showing it.  “So, do you think they’re like, an item?” Gwen asked over lunch, Peter snorted a laugh at the idea.  “Ha - no, I don’t really think so,” Hobie chimed in between bites, a small smile pulling at his full mouth, “I don’t reckon anyone could get that close to the boss-man and live to tell the tale.”  “Guys, come on, he’s not hardly as bad as you’re making him out to be here, give him some credit,” It’s Pav this time, a hum of agreement from Peter, too. “I bet the old man’s got some game under all that scowl.”  “I’m sorry, old man?” As if on-queue, O’Hara stands with hands on his hips over the table, an eyebrow raised and lips drawn tight, “‘m not much older than Peter, you know.” They give a short chorus of gasps, chokes, and a few laughs before O’Hara lets out a heavy sigh, “don’t you all have somewhere you ought to be, or do you enjoy wasting my time having to hunt down your little breakfast club?”  “Oh, come on, don’t be like that. If you keep frowning, you’ll just give yourself wrinkles, Miguel.” You’re quick to peer around his back, winking at the table. “Don’t you have a basket of puppies to spit on?” His eyes widen as he looks down at you, face turned up just enough to catch a toothy grin thrown at him, and attempt to lighten the mood from his scrutiny.  “Aye, that’s a good point,” Hobie finally chimes in again, “I gotta go anyways, Gwen?” He stands and pushes her tray back, an invitation to wander off. She stands and follows, Pav joins, and Peter mumbles something about needing to head home to put Mayday down. They all stare on their way out, watching the disposition shift almost immediately.  “I wish you wouldn’t talk like that with them around.” His words hold no heat, he’s got the ghost of a smile playing at his lips and you slide around to face him, hands on your hips to mirror his stance, “well, someone’s gotta show ‘em you’re not all bad. Besides, what’re you gonna do about it?” Your smile stays wide still as you carry on the conversation, a longer one than any of them have seen that hasn’t devolved into an argument.  “Is that an invitation or something?” He’s cheeky about it, “you did hear what else they said, no? They think I have game.”  It’s the raise of his eyebrow that sells it, you can’t help the yelp of a laugh that comes from you, “They’re not wrong, but I don’t think it’s the type of game you’d wanna brag about.” The tips of his ears heat up at your teasing, “are you trying to get me to fight with you?” He’s shifted his weight, a genuine smile gracing his features for once, stooping to face you directly, “oh-ho, is that a threat, old man?”  “Old?! Come on, you’re gonna hurt my feelings.”  “Ah, see! There’s that smile I love so much.” Your cheeks heat up at his teasing this time, the kids were right, maybe he did have some game, you thought.   The group stares at the two of you through the interaction, wide-eyed, open-mouthed stares sent between them. 

A few weeks pass and their investigation leads Gwen and Miles to follow the two of you closer. They needed concrete evidence of your relationship before they could accuse you of anything.  “Wait, whaddya mean, he was flirting?” Miles whispers from his place, a healthy few feet away from the commotion. A stray Doc Oc had shifted into another world, you and Miguel had decided it was too risky to send more spider-folk, so he opted to take you along in lieu of a full team.  “I don’t know -shh!” Gwen sticks a finger up over her masked-mouth, “but if he finds out we’re here, he’ll skin us alive. Keep it down.”  Your usual grace is no match for this particular anomaly, a quick strike from one of the metal arms sends you spiraling into a support beam with a sickening thunk. Miguel hollers for you, with no response. Another metal arm is just as fast as it catches your skull and thrashes you into the beam again, you’re limp by the time Miguel can confine him.  Miles and Gwen make a swift exit after that, catching only a glimpse of O’Hara as he rushed over to where you lay, an uncharacteristic panic in his voice as he supports your head and shoulders - “Lyla, send someone, please, hurry.”  Never once had they heard him willingly plead with the AI.  They don’t get an assignment from O’Hara for a while, and feign ignorance when Hobie and Pav ask.

a/n: ok how about a break from the regularly scheduled freak shit I usually post about O’Hara. He deserves some soft shit too smh.  Pt. 2 - Pt. 3 - Pt. 4 -

[stubz]

"Can't you cut it off?"

"No I can't cut it off Zyz because unlike you my leg can't grow back."

"Yeah Max is a mammal. We just have to wait till Friday and it'll be all better."

"It'll be longer than Friday Tarlax, it won't be completely better till after the tri-eclipse festival."

*chorus of what's, groans, and other disapproving children sounds*

"But that's...1..2..4..6...7 weeks!"

"I thought you said you weren't hurt that bad!"

"YOU ALREADY RESTED FOR A WEEK!!"

"Yes but it'll still take a while for me to be able to play with you guys again. Right now I'm only able to keep an eye on you kids and help Kim out with crafts and non-physical things."

"But when Pollix broke his arm he was all better in 2 weeks, and my uncle Fenrir broke his foot but he's all better after 10 days."

"Listen kids, humans take longer to heal than most other species. And until then I can't play with you or else my ankle will just get worse."

"But why can't-!"

"Please just one-"

"Maaxx-"

"Come on-!"

"ENOUGH!" having enough of the kids guilt and nag her injured co-worker on his first day back ran the the other human's patience dry.

"Max fractured, broke, his ankle and you want him to run on it? You want him to carry you all while just standing for too long hurts him? You want him to make his injury even worse so that he can play with you?"

complete silence

"After all Max has done for you kids and still you demand that he bends over backwards to entertain you...terrible behavior, I am disappointed in you, all of you."

"...Sorry Miss Kim."

"I'm not the one you kids should be apologizing to."

*chorus of small whispered apologies to Max*

"I forgive you, but like Kim I'm disappointed in you. Now everyone go get your snack."

.

..

"Kay what's eating you?"

"...I feel bad for yelling at the kids now."

"I know but you and I know that was necessary."

"Yeah but I still don't like it."

"Sorry for making you do that. I should've put my foot down and lectured them instead of you."

"Well...to be fair you couldn't without losing balance or wrecking your ankle even more."

"Ha. ha. very funny."

"MAX!!" screams dozen of children and younglings.

"Holy shit!"

"FuuuACK ...damnit my ankle..." his body forgot that even while scared he should not be jumping.

"We got you stuff to help you get better faster!" one by one the children handed the humans jars, wrapped up food, beverages, medicines, and many other things that helped one's health on their respective planet.

"Wow, this is so thoughtful kids. Thanks."

"And thanks to my uncle Fenrir I know how you can play with us but also catch up in case of emergencies."

"Oh really? Is it some kind of scooter--ho crap! THOR PUT ME DOWN!"

"Does it hurt?? Athea, Pollix, come on!"

"Waitwaitwaitwait!"

"There! Not only can you move faster, but also your taller and we get to train our stamina and endurance like any good warrior."

"Kim. Help. Me."

"Are you in pain?"

"...actually no...it's surprisingly comfortable."

"then what's wrong?"

"this is against protocol."

"Dude we have like zero protocol here when it comes to playtime."

"..."

"Your scared of heights?" they ask raising a brow.

"In my defense not many 6'3 men can be carried like this..."

"Well considering your only 2 feet higher now I say we call this your exposure therapy. Carry on kids, but don't run with him unless he says so."

"KIM! DON'T LEAVE ME! I WILL EXPOSURE THERAPY YOU TO SPIDERS IN YOUR SLEEP FOR THIS!!"

"No you won't! Your too nice plus to make things even the spider would have to be small and in a container."

[annymation]

I changed the song “I’m A Star” to fit with my rewrite of Wish

Soooo yeah… I don’t have any song writing background so please be nice 😅

But I’m pretty proud of how it turned out. Think of it as “You Never Had A Friend Like Me” kind of song but sang by Star Boy from the concept art to Asha, explaining to her he’s there to help her out, but he can’t exactly make her wishes come true just with the snap of his fingers, because her wishes can only come true through her own actions

Hope you like it!

Lyrics in orange are said by Star ⭐️

Lyrics in purple are said by Asha 💜

The song has the same rythm as the original, but I recommend listening to the demo when comparing

I’m A Star (rewritten)

[Verse 1]

Have you ever wondered why you look up at the sky for answers?

Or blow dandelions in the wind? Asking them to better your chances

Why throw a coin down a well? Knowing well that's no spell?

Things passed down generationally, to you (yes, I hear)

And to some unbelievers those are simply fallacies

But have you ever wondered why you look up at the sky for answers?

[Chorus]

Well, you don't have to look too hard

I'm here for all your question marks

If you're tryna figure out just who you are

Don't look far

In the sky, and your front yard

In your heart and in the scars

If you really wanna know just who you are

You're a star…

[Verse 2]

What! You just said YOU'RE a star! Uh-huh

Well, yeah, but you're up to par

Cause' while I do bring that sweet magic intervention

Only you can reach your own desti-nation!

See I'm more of that lil voice that suggests

Whenever you don't know how to handle all your quests

So even though I can't do the work for you

I can sure always help

You get it through!

[Verse 3]

A wish is a dream that comes from your heart

See, I’ve dropped in just to do my part

With my magic I'll make that dream go just as planned

But I'm sure that by now you already understand:

My wish coming true, depends on me?

EXACTLY! huh

[Chorus]

For you don't have to look too hard

It's all around and not too far

If you're tryna figure out just who you are

You're a star

Do you know you're a work of art?

Even in the deepest dark

If you really wanna know just who you are

I'm a star!

[Verse 4]

Some say that's just too ordinary

Like us stars just ain't necessary

Cause’ I’m no genie legendary

Granting wishes one, two and three

Well friend, just between you and me

I think I'm more fun cause, you see

I'm here to guide and make you believe

YOU can write your origin story!

[Chorus]

You don't have to look too hard

It's all around and not too far

If you tryna figure out just who you are

You're a star

No matter where you end or start

We're both each other's counterparts

If you really wanna know just who you are

I'm a star (Wooh)

[Post-Chorus]

Ooh, I'm a star

Watch out world here you are (Hey, hey)

You know who's lookin' sharp? (Who?)

Me, I'm a star! (Wooh)

Oh, you're a star

Watch out world here you are! (Hey, hey)

You know who's lookin' sharp? (Who?)

You! You're a star

[Outro]

Ha-ha-ha, wooh

Yes, wooh

Ah-ha-ha, ho-ho

I had a lot of fun experimenting with this song! Please do send suggestions on how to improve it if you have any. Also I’m curious, if we had gotten Star Boy, who do you think should voice him?

[orange-peony]

Thank you for tagging me @monbons and @leithillustration!

I've been working on one of my collabs for the CORBB. Here's a snippet (Simon's POV):

“Snow,” he says, as if in shock. As if my existence on a bus was something surprising. “Baz,” I reply. “Hi. Hello. Ho—how are you doing? Fancy seeing you here.” His eyes are so beautiful from up close. His eyelashes are ridiculously long. They even curl up at the end. “You mean on public transport in general or on this specific bus?” he asks, cocking an eyebrow. “No, I-I-I…” I stutter, calling myself an idiot for not thinking about what I should have said should this occasion ever happen. I feel my face catching fire. I watch both of his eyebrows go up. “Do you often take this bus?” he asks, sounding nonchalant. “I—er…” “Every day,” Betty supplies, turning around and smiling at Baz. “He even helps me carry my bags, since we’re heading the same way. Simon is such a nice lad. I am Betty, by the way.” “How do you do, Betty,” Baz says, forever the gentleman (unless he’s talking to me). “I shall return to my knitting and leave you boys to talk,” she says pleasantly. Baz turns around and seems to study me for a long moment. My palms start sweating, and my breathing accelerates. Is he going to say something? Is he going to stop taking this bus?   “You smell like cinnamon,” he says instead. “And freshly baked bread.”

Tags under the cut, but before I cut, please send us prompts for the @carry-on-au-fest !

@pato-roldnart , @bubble-gumhead , @cutestkilla , @thewholelemon , @artsyunderstudy , @iamamythologicalcreature , @mooncello , @hushed-chorus , @larkral , @letraspal , @you-remind-me-of-the-babe , @facewithoutheart , @emeryhall , @imagineacoolusername , @alexalexinii , @fatalfangirl , @wellbelesbian , @shrekgogurt , @skeedelvee , @blackberrysummerblog , @rimeswithpurple and anyone who fancies sharing a WIP of any kind

[fxckin-blackbeard]

Welcome to Hell...

Zombie Apocalypse Starter for @heartthrobxhook

ᒥ🧟‍♂️ᒧ—        "Fuck this cold ass place, worse than Bristol!" He pulls his leather jacket closer to his body and fights back the shivers that threaten to shake his body.

"The further North, Ed, the better. Slows the infected down." Izzy sighs.

"Slows US down, too, man..." Edward grumbles. "Oi, thats--Are ya dumb?! Not that line, throw the dockin' line!" He rushes off suddenly, moving below from the quarterdeck to help one of the men setting up on the dock. "Start from the bottom, wind up, and use ya full body to make that line taught, brother." He shows the man how to secure the bowline and gives him a clap on the shoulder.

There on the dock of this small Maine town was a massive frigate sailing ship, how she made it into the port was incredible.

A chorus of growls and stomping feet round the corner. Bodies shuffle and drag themselves closer to the leather clad group making their way onto the dock. Frothing, snarling, bloody, gnashing teeth slobbering with diseased drool looking for fresh flesh. Edward grabs a cutlass from his side, smirking widely now. "Oh-ho-ho man, let the fun begin! C'mon ya pus filled fucks!"

A year before it began, the News talking of the spread of a flu. But Edward remembers well it only took a week for everything to go to shit. What started as a flu had people going feral, crazed with the sickness in a rabid way. Bites, scratches, infected blood, or saliva was all it took and like wildfire it spread fast. First was big cities, next was the suburbs, last was rural towns. No one was spared, there was no time to control the infected. Society began to collapse, cities bombed, military overrun, the power went out about a month into the chaos. Been Hell ever since.

Edward was a normal man, he worked as fishermen in the Southern United States. When the infected started popping up, he seemed to flourish in this new hellscape.

Edward wipes the infected blood off on his leather pants and combs back his long curly silver hair. "Iz, take Ivan and the other boys to the nearest Pharmacy or Hospital. Stock up on those meds. Fang and I will look for a gun-shop or police station." For ammo. The sea was safe, but scavenging on land required ammunition. And not just for the infected. The two groups, after flattening the group of infected fishermen on the dock, split ways. Their plan to cover as much ground and stock up as much as they could from this town.

"My, my, my...Looks like someone's been busy as fuck." He approaches the station, seeing all the glass covered by boards. Surrounding the station was infected bodies, all domed and being picked over by crows. With his cutlass resting on his shoulder he approaches the door. "Storybrooke? What a pansy ass name for a town..." Edward scoffs looking at the metal letters above the entrance.

"Ed..." Fang begins, but he sees the look in Edward's eyes and gives up the fight before it could begin.

Edward, with playfulness and thrill in his eyes, bangs his fist on the door. "Knock knock, pus bags! Come get it!" Should there be any infected inside, this was his means of drawing them out.

[to-the-stars8]

Reviving Love

Jason Todd x Reader Chapters AO3

Chapter 8

Oh, my life is changing every day, in every possible way…

When Jason approached your door he heard that familiar song that brought back two vivid memories. 

The first memory was the day he was supposed to help the art club paint the background for the school play. When he had walked into the auditorium with a basket of supplies, Bruce had insisted he bring it, and the song had been blaring full blast with a chorus of out-tune voices singing long. Yours’ among them. As he approached the stage, he finally saw you. You were knelt next to a huge wood tree, paintbrush in hand, and singing along to the lyrics. 

And, oh, my dreams, it’s never quite as it seems—Never quite as it seems

He remembered suddenly feeling flush and stumbling to get all the words out of his mouth. All at once, he just found you so incredibly pretty. 

The second time he had heard that song was his first year of high school, the autumn right before he died. It was homecoming and, after some begging since he was technically grounded, Bruce had let him go. Jason made a point not to tell you so it could be a surprise when he showed up. He found you standing off to the side looking heartbroken. When your eyes met it felt like one of those stupid high school romance movies. Where the room stopped and was drowned in a pink light with roses. When you kissed him he remembered how your breath smelled like cinnamon and your eyes sparkling in the lights. 

Now, as he stood at your front door, he felt that same rush of feelings that made everything dizzy. Luckily, when you answered it brought back some of the senses he had lost while reminiscing. As you welcomed him in, the song still played. 

I know I’ve felt like this before, but now I’m feelin’ it even more—Because it came from you...

“I’m sorry,” You said, walking past him to turn off the speaker. “I was a little lost in my tunes.”

“No worries, I like that song,” Jason admitted. 

You turned to him, smiling. “You do?”

“Yup. I…danced with my prom date to that song.” It was a stretch of the truth, but the last thing he wanted was to connect the dots any further.

“Oh! I danced with my homecoming date to that song, too! I guess it’s pretty popular at school functions,” You laughed and motioned him to the kitchen.

That had been the first time you had referred to him, well the younger him anyway. When he entered the kitchen, you were leaning over a pot of some boiling pasta. Next to it was some sauce that he could only assume you had made from scratch with all the spices, herbs, and other things cluttering the counter. 

“Do you mind trying some of this?” You asked, turning to look at him with a spoon in your hand. 

Nodding, he stepped closer and put his lips to the spoon. It was awful, and he found it hard to tell you it sucked—Unfortunately, his face gave away his feelings. You laughed and it was beautiful. 

“I admit, I’m not the greatest of cooks,” You said, putting the spoon down. “Do you cook?”

“I do, so maybe I could give you some pointers?”

You grinned. “Please?”

Everything you did was so sweet, and he was sure you weren’t even doing it on purpose. With every mistake you made or everyone he made, you laughed it off. You made the whole situation of essentially being the worst cook ever into something fun. You were kind enough to open your home to him, the worst person alive.  

You were inching another forkfull of pasta towards his mouth, and, before he even entertained the idea of taking a bite, he said, “You know, if you keep feeding me, I’ll just keep coming back.”

The way you smiled gave away that he had said something good. Bashfully, you responded, “Well, what if I was trying to do that? Have you come back, I mean.”

Instead of saying anything, Jason took a bite of the pasta as he wiggled his eyebrows up and down at you. You took the hint and looked away so he wouldn’t see your blush. As you stirred the pasta a few more times, you wondered if he could hear how loud your heart was beating. You felt like an awkward teenager again. 

“Um, we should eat,” You said, not sure what else to do as you moved around Jason to get to the bowls in the cabinet. “Or else I’ll be spending all night forking food into your mouth.”

“I wouldn’t complain—Hold on, let me get those,” He said, reaching above you to grab the bowls on the top shelf. He put one hand on the counter next to you, encasing you in, and pressing right up against your back to reach for the plate. As you sucked in a breath, you could smell him. Jason smelled of cigarette smoke and mint, an odd but welcoming combination. 

As he put the bowls down, Jason stopped as you turned around. He hadn’t realized just how close you were, only mere inches from your lips, and he could have swooped down to seal in his feelings. Yet, he didn’t. You looked up through your lashes, eyes going to his lips, but made no move to kiss him. 

“I should…” You trailed off, hoping he would do something. 

A quick image flashed in Jason’s mind, one with you bent over the counter and him whispering just how pretty you were into your ear. As soon as the image came into his mind, he backed off. Smacking his face lightly when he turned away, he pulled his thoughts from his little head. He couldn’t get over how shallow it was to think of you in such a way, especially when couldn’t take that final step. It was too much, and he was terrified to be a disappointment to you since he had little to no experience.

You didn’t let him get away this time, though. You stepped around him, your fingers gingerly pushing his cheek to look at you, before stepping closer to him. He could feel your body press against his, and he had to think of every disgusting thing he had ever seen to not get hard. He tried focusing on the music he had insisted you turn on. This time, you looked down at his lips and then back up at his eyes, wanting him to know how you felt. 

“I know,” You began, and Jason could smell just how sweet you were. “You want to take things slow, and I respect it—but, please, don’t tease me like this.”

“I…” Jason tried to find some excuse, but he couldn’t. Quickly, he said, “I’m sorry.”

You grinned, leaning up to press a ghost of a kiss to his cheek. “I hope this is okay?”

“Yes,” He breathed. 

You smiled as you pulled away just enough to remember himself. You reached up, eyes not breaking away from his to make sure no lines were being crossed, to fix a bit of his shirt that had become wrinkled. “Do you think I’ll bite?”

“Maybe, can never be too sure in this city.”

You giggled. “I promise you I won’t. Unless you ask.”

Jason smiled and he saw you blush. He could do this, he thought, he could be with you. Maybe, he could figure out how to be good enough for you, too. In the background, he could hear Dreams playing again. 

Then I open up and see the person falling here is me—A different way to be.

[jerzwriter]

A million years ago, someone asked me if I'd write a series that mimicked canon but with Tobias Carrick as head of the Edenbrook Diagnostic Team. While I don't have the bandwidth to take on a series at this point, as I'm doing my Open Heart re-read, I will rewrite select scenes that I think could be interesting.

The first one is that first night at Donahue's. I may have forced myself to finish this tonight just so I could read @alj4890's version before I go to bed tonight! lol Amanda, my fellow Tobias ho, I'm so glad you're taking this trip with me.

Book: Open Heart Book 1 / Chapter 2 That first night at Donahue's Pairing: Tobias Carrick x Casey MacTavish (F!MC) Rating: Teen Words: 1,445 Series: If it were canon... AU Summary: Casey and her new friends are celebrating their first day as interns at the renowned Edenbrook Hospital. When her attending, Dr. Tobias Carrick arrives, he can't take his eyes off the beautiful young woman, even though he knows he should. When she joins him for a drink, will the two of them be able to fight their attraction? Or will they give in?

A/N: Participating in the @julychallenge Pink: Playfulness, Warmth Black: Attraction

After a grueling sixteen-hour shift, Dr. Tobias Carrick opened the door to Donahue’s, desperate for a brief escape. He hadn’t been to his usual watering hole for the past couple of weeks, not since his messy breakup with the pretty nurse from Peds. He knew the probability of her tossing a glass of Merlot onto his expensive threads was real and best to be avoided. But tonight marked his grand return. Tonight, his need for relaxation made the threat of a hefty dry cleaning bill worthwhile.

It hadn’t been your typical day. The universe decided that the usual life-or-death matters weren't enough. So, it threw in a new class of interns and all the “joy” that came with them. There was a surprise visit from the Director of the Board and, to add insult to injury, a long phone call with his mother. Yes, tonight, he needed the poor lighting and the scent of stale beer that only his home away from home could provide. He nodded to Reggie as he settled onto his barstool, and within moments, his usual drink appeared. Finally, he was ready to unwind.  

As he sipped his bourbon, his eyes wandered across the room, settling on the tiny dance floor in where a group of new interns were swaying to the sounds of Marvin Gaye. At least they have good taste in music, he thought, as he was about to turn back to the bar. But then he noticed a mane of golden hair thrashing about, accompanied by a radiant smile that threatened to light up the room. Dr. Casey MacTavish, was a new intern he met in a rather dramatic manner at the start of the day, and he hadn’t been able to get her off his mind since.

He couldn’t peel his eyes away. Her movements were a little erratic, to say the least, but there was no denying she was sexy as hell. Her laughter rang out over the music holding him captive. He took another sip of his drink, feeling a twinge of something he shouldn’t feel for an intern smoldering inside. He had a reputation for the artistic way he managed to blur lines, but as her attending physician, he knew this was one he shouldn’t cross.

He turned his attention back to his drink and was relieved when Reggie came over to discuss the Red Sox’s post-season chances. It was a welcome distraction, but despite his best efforts, his thoughts kept drifting back to Casey. He turned back ack to the dance floor, but she was gone but, luckily, not for long. A raucous chorus of wolf-whistles drew his attention to the side, where a new surgical intern Tobias had already dubbed “Ken” had the object of his attention bent backward as he feverishly kissed her.

“That lucky son of a bitch,” he mumbled under his breath.

The moment Casey was back on her feet, she tossed her head back with another infectious laugh, and despite Reggie’s attempts to pull him back to the conversation, Tobias was lost.

“I get that she’s prettier than me,” he finally heard Reggie laugh. “But does she know the Sox as well as I do?”

Caught, Tobias grinned sheepishly. “I don’t know, man,” he replied. “She strikes me as someone who could surprise you.”

“Yeah,” Reggie smiled, drying off a tumbler. “Well, she strikes me as someone who is making her way over here. Don’t look now, boss, but...”

“Hey! Do you mind if I join you?”

Her voice was melodic, and if he thought she looked gorgeous across the bar, seeing her up close was a bit too much... even for him. The delicate blush on her cheeks and playful giggle made it clear she caught him eying her from head to toe. Normally he was as smooth as silk... but he already made his first misstep. But who could blame him? Her smile, those blue eyes, the way her denim cut-off shorts clung to her body, showing off her... assets... that top that left little to his overactive imagination...

Casey cleared her throat loudly and motioned to the empty stool beside him. If she were being honest, she was reveling in the level of control she appeared to hold right now. “So, may I?”

“Of course,” Tobias replied, unable to hide a smile.

“What has you so dazed?” she teased, slipping onto the stool beside him.

“You just... you look different outside of work.”

“Different good or different bad?”

“Different,” he said, turning to her with a smirk. “You looked like you were having fun out there.”

“Yeah, burning off some steam. If I can’t celebrate my first day as a real doctor, what can I celebrate?”

“True, true."

Just then, “Ken” approached the bar to order two beers. Tobias glowered his way, but "Ken" didn't notice one bit. He was too busy winking at Casey before rejoining his crew.

“I see you’ve made some quick friends," Dr. Carrick observed.

“Of course I have," she beamed, trying to discern… was he jealous? “With all of this charm and personality... I practically have to fight them off with a stick!"

Tobias laughed so much his eyes crinkled as he motioned to Reggie. “Two specials,” he smiled. “I hope it’s not too forward of me to buy you a drink.”

“Hell no!” She winked. “You know what I earn; feel free to buy me as many drinks as you want.”

God, he was impressed. Tobias Carrick was a known flirt, a master in the field, so he knew when he met a match and holy shit, did she have it. He didn’t want to steer the conversation back to a more appropriate topic, but he felt like he should.

“So, how was the first day?”

“It was... challenging, but that’s the name of the game, isn’t it?”

“Sure is,” he nodded. “When I first came to Boston, I was interning at Mass Kenmore, and let me tell you....”

The two began to trade war stories of med school and, in his case, beyond. Their boundaries softened more with each sip they took. The conversation flowed easily, marked with laughter and, occasionally, a brief touch that felt like sparks igniting under their skin. Without realizing, Tobias leaned in closer, hanging on her every word. Beauty and brains were one thing, but her charm and wit gripped him and didn't let go.

“You know,” she said, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “I didn’t expect to see you tonight. Do you come here often?”

“More often than I should probably,” he grinned. “It’s my go-to place after a long day.”

“Well, it’s easy to see why.”

He let out a snort. “Please don’t tell me because of the ambiance.”

“Of course not!” she replied, nudging his shoulder. “It’s the great company! I mean, it’s clear that I’m already your favorite, and here I am!”

“Oh, are you?” He chuckled, no longer able to deny the warmth building inside him. She had him mesmerized and all but forgetting “the rules.” But he was Tobias Carrick, and rules were made to be broken... weren’t they?

“So, the guy over there... the one you were kissing...”

“Bryce?” She asked, taking a sip of her drink as Tobias’s eyes fell to her lips; never had he been more jealous of a straw. “He’s cool. We just met today.”

“Damn!” Tobias exclaimed. “Does everyone you meet get a kiss like that?”

“Nah,” she smiled seductively. “Only the ones I lose bets to.” Meeting his eyes, she built up her courage and spoke with a flirtatious lilt. “Anything you care to wager, Dr. Carrick?”

That was it. He barked out a laugh, his eyes on fire. Yeah. He may have met his match.

“You’re something else,” he smiled, then his voice became lower and took on a more serious tone. “You know, I know we’re supposed to keep things professional, but you are not making it easy for me.”

“Yey," she clapped, "then it’s working!” Her face became serious, and she lowered her voice, too. “I definitely feel something here, Tobias, but I'm not stupid. I know this would be... complicated.”

“Mmm,” he hummed. “But complicated doesn’t mean impossible. If you ever wanted to find a workaround, you just say the word.”

Casey’s eyes searched his. They looked at her so intently she had to remind herself to breathe.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she whispered. Sensing the shift, Casey's nerves got the better of her, and she glanced at the clock on the wall. “I should get going. Early start tomorrow and all.”

Tobias nodded, masking his disappointment. “Yep, and I heard your attending is a real asshole.”

“I don’t know,” she smiled. “He's impressed the hell out of me so far."

Tobias bit his lower lip, fighting the urge to take this to the next level with all his might. This woman was going to be trouble.

“Good night, Casey. I’ll see you tomorrow,” he replied, never taking his eyes off her as she walked away.

Tobias sighed as she left with her friends. This was going to be complicated, but there was no way he was letting her slip through his fingers. Some things were worth taking a risk for, and there was no doubt in his mind that Dr. Casey MacTavish was one of those things. He finished his drink and threw some bills on the bar to settle his tab.

“Hey! Leaving so soon?” Reggie hollered.

“Yep!” Tobias smiled. “I want to get a good night’s sleep. Suddenly, I’ve got a lot to look forward to tomorrow.”

~~~~~

Agh! This was so much fun! WHy didn't I do it sooner! lol

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

Tagging others separately.

[mi---amor]

Tipsy-Turvy

A//N: Chef Saltbaker x Self Insert OC

Although Amor's shown to speak/think in English for reading convenience, she's actually doing so in Spanish.

Saltbaker will also sometimes be referred to by the hc name I gave him. Not too much in this one because this is set within the early days of them working together.

°•°•°•°•°

Amor followed a peculiar sound. Rich singing occasionally interrupted by hiccups and giggling. 

It was early. Too early for the dimly lit, sweetly-scented bakery to be occupied by anyone other than herself for the weekly anticipated order of produce. A 4:00 AM delivery, to be exact. 

Amor had no complaints. It was part of the job, one she enjoyed no less and had plenty of prior experience for. Being a chef’s baking assistant, she was readily willing to get up at what most people considered to be the butt crack of dawn, cleaning, going over stock, and arranging the deliveries to be as presentable as possible for when her boss arrived.

Strangely, she didn’t recall being told he would be coming in earlier than usual today, if her ears did not deceive her. The only reason might be to help with unloading the truck, but that was hardly a challenge for either of them. 

Poking through the kitchen door, Amor was met with several oddities right away. To start, the lights were not on. Instead, a procession of candles lined one of the countertops, illuminating a portion of the area in a surreal, seance-like way. 

Beside a wall adorned with plates, utensils, and frames, a gramophone filled the scene with lively orchestral music and an operatic singer- two of them, technically. Dueting over the recorded voice was another that was much lower, much louder, and directly at Amor's feet. 

“Sir?” she wondered as Chef Saltbaker merrily belted out the next chorus in unhinged, staccato Italian. He lay sprawled and surrounded by four hefty jugs most likely retrieved from the cellar, his uniform rumpled and undone. To complete his apparent desire to resemble a castaway sailor, his ascot was tied around his disheveled salt-and-pepper hair.

Underneath his coat was an undershirt that, during the events of whatever the hell transpired, had bunched up like a raised curtain. Inside his glass window of a stomach was a tinted, bubbling view of whatever he had sucked dry from the jugs, as well as the pounds of salt his mysterious innards were made out of. 

Probably not the best combination. 

Amor kept her gaze on her superior’s upside-down face shining in the abnormal ambience. She crouched nearer to his level to yell out a very confused, “Hello? Chef?”

Saltbaker’s half-lidded eyes rolled upward and lit with some semblance of recognition. 

“Oh-ho-hoh! Cia-*hic* - ah, scusami. Ciao, bellissima!"

Well, that confirmed it. Chef Saltbaker was plastered out the wazoo, a sight Amor hadn't had the privilege of witnessing before. 

Sure, she'd seen him sip daintily at a wine glass after a particularly busy day. She'd accepted a cup or two herself and could admit she looked forward to them and the friendly chats that ensued. The bottle would get finished by him most of the time, but evidently, it wasn't enough to affect him whatsoever. 

Not like this. The level of drunk the chef had achieved in secret was astounding and not at all something he seemed capable of doing. Not outside of his own home anyway.

Had he even gone home? 

Amor hurried over to the gramophone and stopped the record. Saltbaker held a warbling note until he gave a puzzled grunt. He groggily looked over, whining petulantly at his baking assistant.

“Why’d’y’do that?”

“Chef Saltbaker, sir, you’re uh. Very drunk.”

The chef dropped his head back with a clink. He waved the allegation away, looking as if he were being puppeteered by a sleepy toddler. 

“Jus' a-*hic*- glass or five. Not too much, n' if it was,” he gave a boastful slap to his middle, “it’s nothing this ol’ tank can’t handle, ha ha!”

“Sir, it’s 4:00 in the morning,” Amor insisted. “Have you gone home and slept? At all?”

Saltbaker slurred the question in his language, mockingly falsetto, and made himself laugh, shaking up the party’s worth of booze inside him. “Ehhh. Who has time t'do that anymore?”

“Right, okay.” Trying to think of how to go about the situation, Amor set her fists on her hips and stared at a mounted clock in the shape of a frying pan. The deliveries were going to arrive any minute now. She could handle them herself just fine, but she needed space in the kitchen to sort and count the items out. Not to mention figure out how to get started on everything else single-staffed.

Frowning, she returned to the lump of a salt man. “I have a feeling you’re not going to be able to sleep all this off before 8:00.”

“Why yes, I can! See? S-S-Sleeping!” Accepting the challenge, Saltbaker rolled over, sloshing audibly like a whiskey keg. He had basically become one and was not fit to do anything else for the day- or however long it took saltshaker people to reach a hangover. That much Amor knew and resented to be her problem to deal with. 

The chef she had begun to befriend and admire was supposed to be the opposite of whatever this was. She would have even gone as far as to say he wouldn’t ever put himself in such a predicament. Not when he had a business he seemed to care intensely for.

Did he have something else on his mind lately? Something…. troubling? 

Amor went over to his side where his cheek was smushed against the tile floor. He was doing a terrible job pretending to be asleep, blinking out of sync and mumbling along to the musical number he had been robbed of in his head.

Frustrated as she was, Amor had to admit… it was hard not to find the situation a tiny bit amusing. Out of all the types of drunks to be, Saltbaker luckily landed on jolly dialed up to a hundred. If it was on any other occasion, Amor would have no doubt been laughing at how ridiculous he was being. But this was not the place, not the time, and certainly not the type of boss she could work with. 

“Can you stand up?” she asked, although the answer was probably not going to shock her in the least.

“Yes, of course!” Saltbaker declared, flopping back into his previous starfish position. 

Amor waited, but after a minute he remained where he was, seemingly pleased with the zero amount of progress he made. 

“Sir?” 

“Mmm?”

“Can you stand, please?”

“Oh. Ohhh! You mean now?”

“Yes,” Amor said through one very tired rush of air. “Please. Right now.”

At his assistant’s command, the chef lifted his arms like an awaking zombie, gave a smidgen of effort, and then dropped them. 

“I think I- *hic* -like it down here. Heh heh, you should join me, gattina.”

Amor flushed pink at the pet name honeyed with flirtatiousness. No, she had to have misinterpreted that. Chef Saltbaker liked to tease and throw around nicknames for everyone… one difference being strictly in English. Maybe that quirk in his naturally charming tone had just been her imagination, which betrayed her yet again as she pictured herself cuddling in the big man’s arm and performing karaoke to Italian opera. 

A certainly ideal evening outside of work hours. 

Right now, he needed to move his ass out the goddamn way and maybe sober up at a table or broom closet. Seeing how he definitely couldn’t tell the difference between up and down and no one else was coming to punch in and lend a hand, Amor was the one stuck with having to deal with him- plus get everything else done for the day. 

She was not getting paid enough for this. 

“Sir, can you try to sit up one more time?” Amor asked. She nudged his shoulder with the tip of her shoe. “I’ll help you.”

Through a seesawing grin, Chef Saltbaker hummed at his assistant bathed in candlelight. “Amore mio, have I ever told you your ey- *hic* -excuse me, oh dear. Your eyes… they are sapphires shining bright…ly… no- yes- bright… they make th’morning… uh…” He trailed off and scrunched his brow. “Fiddlesticks. I had learned that jus’ for you. From a picture about cats. You like cats. I remember that abou- *hic* - you.”

Gosh, he was beyond ridiculous. And yet, Amor couldn’t keep a half smile from appearing on her lips. Never mind that her eyes were actually brown; he was right about the cat fact. It felt nice that he cared to remember that insignificant detail from one of their previous unwinding talks. She decided she’d let him have that one. 

“Yes, I do. And I liked whatever that was too. Very sweet.”

“Aw, really?” The chef beamed and fumbled a translucent, surprisingly soft finger to boop her nose. “Well, good! I have man-n-ny more. I'll think of ‘em.” 

“You can tell me all about it while you get up, okay?”

Chef Saltbaker watched with interest as his smaller assistant planted her feet firmly between his legs. She bent over with her hands out toward him, but he pulled his up to his chest like a scared puppy.

“Oh my… Miss Leches, that’s quite forward.”

As politely as she could, Amor told him to shut up and grab hold. Once she got a grip on him, she yanked with strength befitting someone more his size.

Jerking forward with a yelp, the chef stayed vertical for a full second. Before he could rush back to the floor’s embrace, Amor scurried and braced herself against his back. 

She didn't know what lifting a waterbed strictly with her spinal cord felt like, but this had to be it. 

“Unf-! Come on, Chef, work with me.”

“I do work with you, yes. And I- *hic*- enjoy your company very much! Too much, probably.”

Amor huffed and puffed and dug an elbow in, hoping the pain would at least register somewhere in his body and get him to move. With a sturdy little support digging into his shoulder blades, Saltbaker seemed to sense his limbs needed to create useful movement. He lurched over onto an elbow and took the long, sloshy journey to his feet.

“Whooo, so much spinning! I believe I'm going to regret this later.” 

“Yep, probably. Good job not falling on me.”

“Not a problem. Thank you-u-u for being so…. ever so helpful.”

Amor more or less let him lean on her like an armrest before he dropped anchor against a blessedly nearby counter. Believing the worst to be over, she went to gather her hair out of her face- only to catch the chef chuckling as he started sinking to his knees like a melting ice cream.

“No, no, no! Up, stay up.” Amor righted him with another elbow jab to the squishy source of all her wasted energy and time. 

“Oof-!” Saltbaker stuck out his bottom lip and, finally noticing he wasn't decently dressed, decided a little too late to cover up his exposed target. “That wasn't very nice,” he admonished, waggling a finger parentally at his assistant.

“Neither was any of this,” Amor grumbled, patience well spent. “What happened? Why didn't you go home?”

“I have… *hrp*- a much better question. Do you?”

“What.”

Thinking she hadn’t heard him in the otherwise completely silent room, Chef Saltbaker folded in on himself to close the several feet of distance that separated them height-wise. His nose nearly gouged Amor’s eye out, and by his breath alone she feared secondhand intoxication. 

“Do you drink?” the chef clarified, bouncing a little on his toes for emphasis. 

“Chef, I do. But like this?” Amor gestured at his everything. “No. And my advice is that you shouldn’t either. Would you like me to call you a cab or something?”

Saltbaker didn't really seem to understand, which was entirely expected. He had no idea where he was going with his initial question anyway as the world grew increasingly disorienting the longer he stood.

He rocked in place and rambled on. “I asked this, why? Because I dunno if you do. And 'f you do, you knew, who know… knew do. And I do. Knew. Mmmm-hm.” 

Convinced he'd spoken gospel truth, Chef Saltbaker set a fist on his hip, his other going for the counter. He missed completely and his center of gravity gladly took over. 

Amor nonchalantly sidestepped as her boss face-planted into the ground, rattling everything within a five-mile radius. He didn't move or say much else and she decided that was for the best. She continued with the morning duties after a brief checkup confirmed the chef was more than okay. He was snoring. 

Amor shook her head and wished him well once he woke up.

He was going to have a massive headache, and she wasn’t going to make it any better by asking him for a raise. 

[ozzgin]

LETS 👏GIVE 👏Y/N 👏SOME 👏LOVE👏

This is gonna be nearly impossible in real life but the anime has tons of non logical stuff SO...

Please make a HC of Modern Y/N meets prehistoric Y/N 🙏

Cause you know how somewhere in the earth someone could possibly be your twin?

That situation but in different timelines 😭🙏 perhaps maybe Modern Y/N is part of the science team and is SHOOK

Make the impossible POSSIBLE BEGGING

Y’all this is such a whole new level of meta-

I had to sit down and figure out how to even write this. Third person of (Y/N) variations? Second person except you never know which you is you? But I might sail forward with the latter, with the little twist that one line is yours, and the other one is yours. You get to decide. Pick your timeline or don’t pick at all and just be both.

Baki Headcanons: Prehistoric! Reader meets Modern! Reader

Featuring the Baki characters, you and you. (With a surprise you appearance)

“You never mentioned you had a long lost twin, (Y/N)” your coworker comments playfully. You return a hesitant laugh without looking away from your monitors. He has a point, the resemblance is uncanny. Save for the impressive size difference, every other feature down to the finest detail is eerily similar…no, more like identical to yours. There has to be a rational explanation but your mind is blank. Who the hell are you looking at? One of the screens flashes a loud notification and you jolt at the sudden disturbance. They’re waking up.

Your eyes are burning and the surroundings are blurry. You can almost feel your bones creaking as you groggily lift yourself up. There’s a faint tug at your skin and you touch around for the source. Long, thick threads seem to be attached to the surface of your body. Roots? Some sort of creature? You’d rather not wait to find out, so you swiftly rip them off. You hear a groan next to you and as you turn, your vision begins to return some clarity. Pickle is rubbing his face in irritation but immediately calms down once he sees you’re with him. At least you’re not alone. Although it doesn’t change the fact you don’t know where you are.

“Amazing”. Several people murmur in chorus as you stare down, towards the ancient creatures. You’d share their excitement if you weren’t so entranced and afraid by the view of a person that’s almost a perfect copy of you. You touch the double glass and wonder if perhaps you’ve been glancing at your own reflection all along. You don’t have to mull over it too hard, as the prehistoric man begins to lose his patience and the security window becomes a frail obstacle in the path of his massive fists. Within seconds you’re on the ground, scrambling to avoid the shards that now spread across the lab tiles. Is this how you die?

Pickle scans the room, completely baffled by the strange machinery. He doesn’t recognize anything. Not even the humans cowering in fear before him. He would like some answers, but doesn’t know where to obtain them. Frustrated, he grinds his teeth and considers his options. He turns to search for you and his head freezes. Did you…become smaller? What are you doing on the floor? He rushes to help you up, but you yell out in fear and try to shove yourself away. A familiar growl erupts behind him. It’s you. Confused, he checks the person he’s still holding. Wait. What?

Your wrists are aching and you’re panting. You can feel your knees giving up. Is he trying to kill you? Why you, out of all the people? The Jurassic man pauses in his movement and you shyly peep over towards the commotion that distracted him. You lock your eyes with the woman and she seems to be in disbelief. Can’t blame her, really. You’ve had plenty of time beforehand to process the similarities, but it’s her first time meeting you. Is she as shocked as you were during the first encounter? And then it hits you: the man thought you’re her.

You’ve often observed your reflections in the water and have always been fascinated by the phenomenon. As far as you can tell, however, there’s no pond or river around this time. Who is the person standing next to Pickle? You exchange a quick look with your equally bewildered mate. Oh, how exhausting. This isn’t your home and that isn’t you. You don’t understand. Maybe this stranger has some answers to all this. You step forward and squat down to the level of this smaller version of you. You’ll get to the bottom of this.

The wall crashes and you slap the emergency exit button. You crawl out of the cockpit, coughing out the dust particles and fumes caused by the explosion. Did the Time Machine work? You survey your surroundings and gasp involuntarily. Is it…you? There’s a tall, toned woman kneeling before a much smaller human, but they both bear your appearance.

My partner (that proofreads everything) absolutely lost it when he saw the request and found the idea so wild he wanted to write his own thing. So hereby attached are his own headcanons. Enjoy! This was a crazy ride.

Bonus: Baki Characters but it’s all You, the Reader

You reminisce about you fighting you. How you challenged you, met you in your underground fighting arena, how you circled around you, looking for an opening into your defense. How glorious when your fist hit your face, and how your blood splattered on the ground of your arena.

You are preparing to fight you. The strongest fighter in the world is you, and you are your son. If you want to have any chance of defeating you, you will have to become even stronger than you. So you train, every week, every day, every hour. In your basement you are facing yourself, so that one day you can stand in front of you instead.

You couldn’t believe your ears when you called from the survey site. In the salt, you found you fighting yourself, in the shape of a T.Rex. Reviving you after millions of years would further prove your spot as the number one scientist.

You feel yourself exiting your body, flying through the cold air. You rudely land on yourself lying among the trash bags. The unpleasant feeling wakes you up. Upon waking, you demand your clothes. You put them on, even though they barely fit your muscular body. You exit your alleyway, walking through the crowd of you. You stand out from yourself, so you spot yourself immediately.

[cathumanthing2]

List of things my orchestra, chorus, and band teachers have said:

"I need your bows to be infused with the power of christmas and stretch out" (orchestra 1)

"i guess I'll be practicing all week instead of doing homework" "atta girl, you got your priorities straight!" (band)

"it needs to sound like 'ho ho ho' not 'ho ho those damn kids keep takin my cookies'" (orchestra 1)

"you're making it sound like the wrong sleigh! its 'sleigh ride', not" *plays the chord from psycho* (orchestra 1)

"dont drink and run, kids" (orchestra 1)

*mewing* (chorus)

"you guys are so zesty" (chorus)

"it sounds like if you took a box of ornaments and just dumped it all over the tree then threw the tinsel on and then it catches fire and your house burns down" (orchestra 1)

"thats a good mama" (chorus)

*weird voice* "i have flower" (orchestra 1)

"YES, ill let you take my job today" (orchestra 2)

"if you're gonna fart... pose" *strikes some weird pose* (band 2)

"you're supposed to do *makes petting motion* kittyyy kittyyy, pet it gently, not *fucking WHACKS the invisible kitten* animal abuse" (orchestra 1)

"yes, im evil and made this warmup to make you smack yourselves in the face" (chorus)

"i want you to burp so loud and long that even your dad is impressed" (band 2)

"i guess we're teaching sign language now" (orchestra 1)

*steals people's sheet music* "im doing you a favor" (band)

*day before long weekend* "you did so good that im giving you Monday off of school" *collective groaning noises at an overused joke* (band)

*chases oboist around the band room* (band)

"who do you think it is?" *calls on kid with hand raised* kid: "is it-" "its not [name2]" (chorus)

"i need you to pretend you're throwing up" (chorus)

"i cant believe im saying this but... percussion, can you perhaps be louder?" (band)

"I have a funny story...my dad died and when my mom got married again she didn't invite me to her wedding." (orchestra 2) (NOTE: i never had this teacher, i joined orchestra the year after she retired)

"do you know how hard it is to make frosty the snowman sound like frosty the snowman instead of frosty the big wet sad puddle?" (orchestra 1)

"We will accept bribery" (chorus)

"guys, will you PLEASE stop hitting kittens" (orchestra 1)

*at a baritone who has his arm resting on the back [name]s chair* "[name2], i dont think [name] wants to go on a date with you" random kid: "yeah, [name2] is like 'hey, wanna go to the movies and put our hands in the popcorn bucket at the same time'"

SO. thats what i have so far. this is FAR from a complete list. the band 2 is for an extra band where the teacher isnt the same one or one of the ones for band, and orchestra 1 and orchestra 2 are completely different and numbered based on when i joined. 1 is after school and not really a school orchestra, and 2 is a school orchestra.

bonus: things they say a lot

"snailed it!" "open up your vowels, sopranos" "you SLAYED" "does anyone have any hot tea?" (chorus)

"SHAPE IT" "less talking more rocking/less conversing more rehearsing" "lets go! *loud clap*" (orchestra 1)

[insert dad jokes here] (band)