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scarletsaphire · 2 months ago

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Danny's parents are wrong. There is no such thing as ghosts, and the "portal" in their basement is nothing more than a hole in the wall. A hole in the wall that holds a nefarious illness that causes Danny to start rotting from the inside out. When other citizens of Amity Park begin to exhibit the same horrible symptoms, will they be able to stop it, or will the city fall to this mysterious virus? -- A little late, but here's my second entry for @ecto-implosion 2024! This one is with @justaphantomhuman whose art you can find here: https://www.tumblr.com/justaphantomhuman/768612892548513792/ectoimplosion-2024?source=share I hope you all enjoy!

The first other person who got infected, or at least that Danny noticed got infected, was the lunch lady. She'd been working at Casper High for as long as anyone could remember, with a picture of her next to the brand new lunch menu hanging in the back of the cafeteria, dated 1967 to prove it.

She’d always been nice. Not overly so, not in an overbearingly, tooth rottingly sweet kind of way, but in the “always adds a little extra on mashed potato day” kind of way. The exact level of nice a lunch lady should be.

Maybe Danny should’ve noticed something, when she started adding way more than a little extra mashed potatoes, both to his tray and everybody else’s. Maybe he should’ve noticed when she no longer seemed to reply to the students, working on autopilot and regurgitating a script of “Eat, eat, growing boys and girls need to eat!” He definitely noticed when the force of scooping pees cut into her wrist, and the now loose flab of skin fell into the less than stellar minestrone.

The horror sinking into his gut was almost enough to cover the piercing hunger.

He grabbed Sam and Tucker’s arms, dragging them away from the lunch line to the closest table they could talk freely at.

“Whu- hey!” Tucker protested, but he didn’t try and break Danny’s grip. “What’s your deal?”

“Did you see that?” He hissed through clench teeth. He ignored their loose rattle.

“See you sacrificing my spot in line? You bet I did.”

Sam elbowed Tucker in the side, which did nothing to stop his protests. She was just better at drowning them out. “Saw what?”

“Her- her wrist. It just fell off. Into the soup.”

Sam paled, and Tucker cut himself off.

“Like…” Tucker asked, eyes darting to Danny’s neck where his skin was still red and loose.

Danny nodded. “Exactly like that.”

Sam leaned forward, lowering her voice to a whisper. “We can’t let people eat that.”

“Agreed.” Danny's eyes darted to the lunch line; students trailed back to the cafeteria doors and out into the hall. “But how?”

“Easy. Sam, scream that you saw a rat.”

Sam turned sharply to Tucker. “Why do I have to do it?”

“Because you’re a girl, and you can scream louder!”

“We both know that's not true! And besides, I would not scream at a rat.”

“Hey! I have a very manly scream!”

Danny would’ve bit his lip, if he hadn’t spent the last month training that reflex out of him. They didn’t have time for their bickering. They had to act fast.

He jumped up on the table, pointing towards the food line, and screamed as loud as he could. “Is that a rat?!”

To Tucker’s credit, the plan worked wonderfully. The students in line immediately dissolved into chaos, screaming and dropping their trays and running from the line. In some cases, they ran from the cafeteria altogether.

Danny did not pay attention to the commotion. His eyes remained drained on the lunch lady, as she continued to spoon more and more soup into an abandoned, overflowing tray. Her grip on the spoon didn't waver, even as she began to wear through the bone, more and more splatters of blood mixing in with the soup below.

—

Maybe it was a good thing that the first zombie was revealed in such a public way. When Principal Ishiyama came to try and figure out what was happening, she immediately called the police. And of course, Danny’s parents, with their radio tuned in on police channels at all times, arrived first.

He wished he could've watched them work, but he couldn't; they’d evacuated the cafeteria the moment they arrived.

“This is why you should bring your hazmat suit to school, sweetie!” Maddie had said, her voice muffled through the full face mask that she wore. Then she was gone through the double doors of the cafeteria to clean up the mess the lunch lady had made, both of the lunch line and of herself. By the time they were done, Danny had left the school grounds.

“Any ideas on how this could happen?” he asked, consciously fighting the effort to kick a rock down the sidewalk. He’d already splintered his toe nail in two once; he didn’t need to do it again.

Sam worried at her bottom lip before shaking her head. “Not that I can think of. Unless you decided that you were sick and tired of beef paste for lunch?”

Danny threw his weight into her side, knocking her off the sidewalk for just a second. She laughed, then adjusted her course.

“Maybe we’re looking at it wrong.” Tucker did not look up from his PDA as he spoke, fingers flying over the buttons. “Maybe it isn’t like the movies.”

“Well, we don’t exactly have a lot else to go off of.”

“Yeah, my parents expected to find ghosts, not freaky zombie virus.”

Tucker snapped his fingers and pointed at Danny. “But we have that!”

Sam and Danny shared a look. “What, ghosts?”

“Cause we definitely can’t handle ghosts and zombies at the same time.”

“No, of course not.” Tucker held up his PDA, letting Danny see some kind of study displayed on screen. “Viruses!”

Danny took a moment to digest the words before the substance became clear to him - it was on how viruses spread.

“Its a place to start at least,” Sam said with a shrug

“I do think that's still like the movies,” Danny teased. “It’s not like zombie viruses are real.” He corrected himself after a moment. “Were real.”

“I mean they kind of are though, present company excluded. There’s some kind of brain disease that takes over deer. And mind controlling funguses that kill ants.”

“Why do you know that?” Danny asked.

“It’s Sam, of course she knows about zombie diseases.”

“Fair point.”

“Anyway, viruses are normally transmitted through either touch and bodily fluid and stuff, or through the air. We’ve already established you weren’t swapping spit with the lunch lady through any means-” Tucker ignored Danny’s pronounced gagging noise. “-so she must have gotten sick through the air.”

“That’s great!” Sam’s voice was full with as much fake cheer as she could ever muster. It all dropped with her next sentence. “Except that doesn’t make any sense.”

“It makes perfect sense! What else could have infected her?”

“Ok then, riddle me this. If it's transmitted by air, why haven’t either of us started peeling yet?”

“Well, obviously-” Tucker snapped before stopping both his sentence and his walk, leaving Danny to run straight into his back.

Danny backed up quickly, hand flying to his nose. It came up covered with congealed blackish blood. “Aw, crap.”

“I am so sorry dude, I didn’t think-”

“It’s fine,” Danny waved him off with his clean hand. “Just- tissues?”

Tucker nodded and handed him the small pack from his bag.

“It doesn’t look too bad at least,” Sam said, craning her neck to try and see the damage through the gore. “A little smushed more smushed, but not any more noticeable than the last three times.”

“That’s good.” Danny tore off two bits of the tissue and plugged them into his nose, then began wiping off the rest of it with the remainder. “Sam does have a point though. Anything that could infect her should’ve infected you guys by now.”

Tucker bit his lower lip. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“Maybe it's just random?”

“Maybe it is,” Danny said, looking at the soaked through tissue in his hand. He ignored the way his skin hung loose in some places, and the thin red marks that covered it. “Let’s hope that it randomly decides to fuck off soon.”

—

The lunch lady was in Danny’s basement now, with a pot of water colored brown and a lunch tray that drained back into the pot. It was almost impressive how quickly Danny’s parents figured out how to keep her contained. As long as she had lunches to serve, she was perfectly happy to sit there forever. Which meant that Danny would have a zombie in his basement for who knows how long.

It’s not like he could judge much. There was a zombie in every room he was in anymore.

He removed the hazmat suit his mother had insisted he wear after he got upstairs. His dad was right where he’d been when Danny got home, crouched on the floor surrounded by tweezers, a magnifying glass, and a minefield of vials. “What are you doing?”

Jack threw Danny a beaming smile that was just barely visible through the hazmat hood screen. “Picking up all of the samples she left in the floorboards. Don’t want to let anything go to waste!”

“Oh. Well, good luck.”

“Thanks kiddo! Oh, and your mother wanted me to tell you that there’s twenty dollars on the fridge. You and Jazzy pants are gonna need to get yourselves dinner.” He turned back to the floor picking off more tiny scraps with the tweezers. “Your mother and I are gonna have our work cut out for us. You know how it is, science waits for no man!”

“Thanks, but I’m not very hungry.” Danny’s stomach growled, betraying his lie.

Jack laughed. “You’re probably just turned off from everything at lunch. Why don’t you go place the order. Number for pizza’s on the counter!”

Danny nodded his head, then made his way to the phone in the kitchen. He was hungry. He was always hungry lately, and he knew damn well pizza wasn’t going to do anything to help. Still, Jazz would be getting home soon, and it would be nice for her to have something to eat.

He ordered the veggie lovers pizza with extra mushrooms, just like Jazz always wanted but he’d always fought against. Danny had always held the opinion that if you were going to put that many green things on a pizza you’d be better off with a salad, but he wasn’t going to be eating it anyway.

Danny had made himself comfortable on the couch while he waited for the pizza. His dad had finished prying skin cells from the floor and had returned to the basement, probably to begin analyzing the samples. Danny had been absentmindedly flipping through tv channels when the bell rang.

On the other side of the door was a short fat man holding far too many pizza boxes for one order. “Box collector!”

Danny blinked slowly. “Um… I think you have the wrong house.” He slowly began to push the door closed. “No!” the man bellowed, sticking his foot into the gap of the door. “You called to steal my boxes, I heard you, I heard you say it!”

“Listen dude, I don’t know whats wrong with you, but I’m not trying to take anything from you!” Danny pushed harder, but the man didn’t budge.

“Attempted thief! I have come to ensure that you have not taken any other boxes from the box collector!” He was getting louder and louder with each word, trying to push his way into the house.

“I said leave!” Danny grunted, pushing on the door as hard as he could. There was the sickening sound of bones cracking, and for a brief moment Danny stared at his hands still pressed against the door trying to figure out which of them had snapped. But his hands were fine, his fingers were fine, and neither of his arms weren’t bent weird or limp.

His eyes trailed down to the foot still in the door, blood spewing from the gouge the force had left. The bones were crushed together, some poking through the skin, revealing their splintered ends.

The man on the other side of the door did not stop trying to force his way inside. He didn’t even pause in the box themed ramblings, stacks of pizza boxes still visible through the crack in the door.

“Mom! Dad!” Danny yelled towards the basement door. “We have an emergency!” There was a beat, then two where he didn’t hear anything, and he could almost feel his heart drop into his stomach. Then the pounding of footsteps on metal seemed to shake the house, and his parents threw open the basement door open with a crash.

“Danny! What’s going on?” Maddie said, Anti-Creep Stick gripped tight in her hands.

“There’s-” The door was shoved hard against Danny, and he stumbled before regaining his footing. “Another one!”

“Another-” her eyes went to the bloody mess on the door frame before she nodded her head. “Jack-”

Jack didn’t need to wait for whatever Maddie was going to say, already running to the door to take the burden off of Danny. “I got it! Go help your mother.”

He ran to his mothers side. “I need you to think really hard. What was he doing here? Was there something he was focused on, something he won’t stop doing besides getting into the house? Anything you can think of.”

Danny nodded. “That’s easy. He’s been talking about boxes this whole time, and has like. A dozen pizza boxes. He’s been accusing me of trying to steal them from him.”

Maddie looked away from Danny, surveying the room. “Go to the storage closet upstairs and get as many boxes as you can. Dump whatever's in them on the floor, we can clean it up later. Bring them to the basement.”

Danny didn’t ask what the plan was, just taking off to do as she said. The storage closet had plenty of boxes of all sizes in it, all filled with dusty old junk that was soon sitting in sagging piles on the floor. He threw the boxes over the banister before following them down the stairs.

Getting them all into the basement was a tricky endeavor, but he managed, and soon Danny was standing in the basement surrounded by empty cardboard boxes and a slowly decaying lunch lady. His mother was nowhere to be seen.

“Mom?” he called out.

“No mother here, just some delicious soup! Come on sweetie, have a bite!” the lunch lady said. Danny ignored her.

“Over here!” Maddie’s voice was muffled and came from underneath one of the workbenches. Danny made his way over, trying to push the boxes along with him. “Did you get the boxes?”

“As many as I could. What are you gonna do with them?”

“I’m going to trap him.”

“...with boxes and a desk?”

“There’s a hole in the wall that leads to some kind of crawlspace,” Maddie said. “Pass me that?” She gestured to a sheet of metal, and Danny obliged. “If he does have this obsession with boxes, he should go straight in. And when he does-” Maddie let the sheet of metal fall, blocking the gap underneath the workbench.

“Is that going to hold him?”

“We’ll weld it on if we have to, but if our hypothesis is correct, then he shouldn’t even try to get out.” She lifted the metal plate back up and left it on the workbench. “Start tossing boxes into the space back there. I’ll try and lure him in.” She turned to the stairs to leave.

“Wait, no, you’re not going to act as bait!”

“We don’t have much of a choice!” she snapped.

“Let me do it instead.” Maddie stopped dead in her tracks, so Danny continued. “If its some kind of illness then I’ve already been exposed at the door, right? You’re better with welding too, and for all we know, he’s only mad at me.”

Danny could almost hear her inhale through the hazmat suit. “Fine. But be safe, and don’t get hurt.”

“I’ll try.” That’s all Danny could do.

—

Danny remembered Dorathea as a happy girl, bubbly and excited and always wearing old fashioned clothing. Something about her family being renaissance faire actors who had more costumes then clothing. She never seemed to mind, even when Paulina picked on her for it. Dora always said it made her feel pretty, and she’d spin in her full length dress and knock the pencil right off Paulina’s desk. No one ever knew if it was on purpose or not, but it got the bullies off of Dora’s case.

The Dora Danny remembered was very, very different from the one in the hospital bed.

He knew she’d gotten sick. Really, really sick, the kind of sick that meant she hadn’t ever set foot in Casper High, hadn’t even set foot out of the hospital in months, but knowing that was very different than seeing it. She was pale, her lips almost blue, her cheeks sunken and wires and tubes glued to her scalp and stuck in her skin, leading to IVs and breathing machines and monitors that Danny couldn't even guess at their purpose.

What made it all worse was the work down skin from where she was cuffed to the bed. She was still straining against them, pushing her IV needle further into her skin, causing it to bulge and twitch with every movement. She was trying to say something, but the oxygen mask over her mouth made the words completely unintelligible.

“It's lucky she was here,” Maddie said to Dora’s older brother, who was scowling at the Fenton’s from the other side of the hospital bed. “The data from her onset may help us save the entire town.”

“I don’t care about the town,” Aragon sneered. “I want you to fix her.”

“Well, given what we’ve seen of previous specimen, it’s likely that-”

“We’ll try our best.” Jack interrupted her with a hand on her shoulder. “Won’t we, Mads?”

The two of them locked eyes, before Maddie nodded. “We’ll do everything we can.”

It took a good hour for the Drs. Fenton to review Dora’s scans and records, and another twenty minutes for them to set the hospital room up the way they wanted. The whole time Danny sat in one of the uncomfortable visitor chairs, bored and confused. His parents had packed him into the car once they’d gotten the call without telling him what was going on, and the explanation they’d given him on the ride was lackluster, to say the least. Only that they’d need his help.

That left Danny to spend nearly an hour and a half sitting there watching Dora. It was clear that she was infected and not just in the way the heels of her feet were worn through from dragging them against the bedsheets. He could see it in her eyes.

She wasn’t blinking, keeping her eyes wide and frantic and shining with a fevered, desperate need for… something. Danny didn’t know what. If he could understand her frantic mumbling through the mask she’d probably tell him, but that probably wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.

“You ready Danny boy?”

Danny tore his eyes away from Dora’s towards his father, smiling at him expectantly. “I would be if you’d tell me what we’re doing.”

“We’re studying the onset, of course! One of our good friends here at the hospital noticed her deterioration and thought it looked like something your mother and I are interested in, so they called us for a consultation!” Jack rubbed his chin. “Well, she said it looked like that weird mumbo jumbo we called science back in college, but close enough!”

“Yeah, I got that. Why am I here?”

“To help, of course!”

“I think what your father is trying to say-” Maddie cut in, “-is that we want you to help run some tests on Dora here, so we can measure her reactions, psychologically and physiologically.”

“Exactly that!” Jack nodded enthusiastically. “Seeing as you already know her, and your…” he trailed off, glancing down at the compression socks Danny wore around his lower legs. His parents had bought them for him, after they’d figured out, well, everything. “...unique condition, we thought you’d be the perfect fit!”

“Oh. Yeah, I can do that.” Danny stood up from the chair, trying to shake the chill that settled into his bones.

“Wonderful! We’re going to sit over here and monitor everything. When we give you the signal, go ahead and remove the mask. Then just… talk! If we need something else, we’ll ask, okay?” His mom ruffled his hair before moving to the fair side of the room. She used to kiss his forehead, back before they realized he was a contagion risk, but she didn’t now. He missed it.

“Whenever you’re ready, Danno!”

It was almost surprising that Dora didn’t snap at Danny’s fingers when he removed the mask, especially with how she kept staring at him. The same fevered look in her eyes, desperate and needy and begging him for something, it made Danny almost feel like prey. It made the first words out of Dora’s mouth even more surprising.

“Will you go to homecoming with me?”

Danny blinked out of surprise more than necessity. “Um. What?”

“Homecoming!” Dora smiled wide, so wide that the corners of her lips seemed to stretch and crack. “It's soon, isn’t it? I’ve had the principal sending me every flyer and poster for weeks! So, will you go with me?”

Danny glanced back at his parents, but they didn’t seem to notice. His mother was engrossed in the display for the machines Dora was hooked up to, and his dad was scribbling notes onto a clipboard with such speed Danny was afraid he was going to break the pen.

Danny began to answer. “Uh… sorry, but I wasn’t really planning on…” He cut himself short as he saw Dora’s eyes narrow, her hands clenched into fists so tight he could see blood trickling from her palms. He quickly changed course. “But if its with you, I’d love to go!”

Her reaction to his yes was maybe even more disturbing, as she fought against her restraints in what Danny thought was celebration. The noises she were making were certainly celebratory, though definitely not intelligible. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she spoke again. “Wonderful! We’re going to dance, and drink punch, and spend the whole night together! I need to practice so I don’t step on your feet!” She giggled, and began turning her body side to side. She didn’t even seem to notice the restraints as she kept twisting to her left, further and further before the sickening snap of what Danny could only imagine was a part of her spine breaking echoed around the room.

Dora’s smile never fell of her face, and her soft humming never fell from her lips.

Danny glanced to his parents yet again as he backed away from Dora, this time met with their looks of horror. Not at Dora and the scene in front of them, but the display. They weren’t writing anything down anymore. Instead, they shared a look, this one holding so much more weight than the one they’d shared when Aragon.

“We’re done here, Danny.” Maddie stood from her chair and started her way out of the room. “Your father will take you home. I need to make a call.”

–

Amity Park had emergency broadcast speakers. That was new information to everyone, including the speakers, if the surprised crackling noises that emanated from it were anything to go off of. When it finally managed to clear into an audible voice, it was a woman’s, cold and calculated.

“This is an emergency broadcast from the United States Government. If you are hearing this, you are currently under quarantine. Any attempts to leave the bounds of Amity Park will be met with martial force. If you have any questions regarding the authenticity of this announcement, please contact your local government officials. If you have any questions regarding the conditions of your containment, please report to the city hall for a briefing performed by Dr. Madeline and Jack Fenton. Thank you.”

Danny assumed that the announcement was met with chaos. He could picture people yelling into the phone at the mayor’s secretary, people driving to the town outskirts to find the agents, dressed in full, pure white hazmat suits blocking off the road. He imagined people looking at themselves in the mirror, scouring themselves for signs of an illness they hadn’t realized they’d contracted. And then Danny pushed that from his mind, because his parents were wrong.

“We know why you’re all here.” His mother’s voice, amplified by the microphone on the podium, echoed through the walls. “And we want you all to know that we know how you think of us. How you think of our work and our research.”

Danny should’ve been out there with them. Jazz was, and she’d only been informed of the whole situation while Maddie ran through government phone numbers. She hadn’t taken the news well. She’d called their dad a liar, a kook, a fake scientist who was living in delusions.

Jack had shown her Dora’s scans. The lunch lady, still in the basement with her lower legs swollen to the point of bursting because her heart had given up pumping, who still greeted the family with a smile and scooped them an ever draining bowl of soup. She’d stopped protesting, when the facts were in front of her.

That was why Danny hadn’t given up yet. He had more facts. He knew that they were wrong, that they were making a mistake. He was proof of that. They just didn’t believe him.

“We want to assure you that we are not overreacting. We are not working on fake numbers, and we are not wasting your time. We would be happy to explain our data to anyone interested, just like we explained it all to the CDC, and then the agents of the GIW who recorded the announcement that brought you all here today.”

They were making a mistake, getting everyone so panicked. It was all going to be just fine, like Danny was. Different, sure. It was going to be very different, but Danny had adjusted to the different just fine. The rest of the town would too.

“We won’t try to put it lightly. We are all dead.”

It would take some time, and people would probably end up hurt. It would suck really, really bad. But it wasn’t death . It wasn’t the end of Amity Park, or the end of the world like they’d been discussing with the agents. It was just… a change.

“A few months ago, an airborne illness was released into the city, infecting everyone who lived here. It progresses slowly, eating away at the infected person's brain until they can no longer feel pain, until their body can no longer sustain themselves. They become solely interested in one thing, one activity or purpose that they dedicate themselves to while the virus continues to eat away at their bodies and the chemicals their damaged brain can still produce.”

Danny wasn’t a mindless shambling creature, he was still him . They’d done scans and tests to try and figure out how it happened, how Danny became an exception. They couldn’t figure it out. Not for certain, but they had a hypothesis.

“You may have heard of some incidents these past few weeks, of common Amity Park citizens suddenly going crazy. We believe the reason they were so susceptible to this disease is because of preexisting brain damage. The disease had less to do, and was therefore able to progress to its final stages quicker then in a healthy specimen. We don’t know how long the majority of us have yet. It could be weeks, or months, or hours. It is just a matter of time.”

The electrical shock from the initial incident had stimulated the virus in Danny’s body into its final stage too early. It didn’t have the time to cause the type of damage it needed to revert Danny to the mindless actions the other infected displayed. It would be impossible to replicate, they said. Danny didn’t believe them. They were wrong, their hypothesis was stupid, and they should never have tried to lock things down. People were going to panic over nothing.

“We won’t hold you here any longer. Our advice to you all is to get your affairs in order. Call your loved ones who live out of town, hug your family, and find something you love to do. You’ll have the rest of your afterlife left to do it. If you have any questions, we will be in the town hall for the remainder of the day.”

This wasn’t the end of Amity Park. Danny knew it. They would all live to see tomorrow, and every day after it. He wouldn’t accept anything else. He couldn’t.

–

The sun was big and beautiful, painting the sky in brilliant shades of orange and red and yellow. Its blinding light was blocked by the leaves of the tree hanging over Danny headed, shielding his eyes from the worst of it. The day had been warm, inching just slightly towards uncomfortably so, but now that the sun was setting it was perfect. He took a deep breath that he did not need, letting the fresh air move through his lungs and into his body.

“It’s funny, looking back on it.” Sam sat on his left, and Tucker on his right. It had become sort of a routine of theirs, to sit and watch the sunset together. There wasn’t much else to do in town anymore, since the power grid got shut down. “Everyone was so worried that it would be the end of the world, but we’re still here.”

Neither of his friends replied, but that wasn’t unusual. They didn’t talk much anymore. He didn’t really blame them. Jazz had talked about how trauma can cause selective mutism, and this whole thing had been traumatic, even if it had all turned out just fine.

“I’m glad I was right.” The grass was cool under his fingers, the ones on his left slick with moisture. It might’ve been warm, if things were different, but it wasn’t. He didn’t mind that. Cool meant water. Dew drops. Fresh rain. Warm was… not those. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if I wasn’t.”

A soft buzzing sound came from his right. Danny didn’t turn to look; he didn’t need to. He knew what it was already. Bees. Only bees, buzzing by his ear, Nothing else. “I don’t need to. Everythings ok, and I still have you guys.”

It was instinct that his hand moved, following the cool liquid to its source, tracing the blades of grass and twisting roots to where they pushed into Sam’s wrist. The tips of his fingers were slick with her blood, but he didn’t think about it, and she didn’t care. Couldn’t care.

He closed his eyes as he turned and smiled at Tucker. He didn’t want to see the bulge of a radio speaker in Tucker’s mouth, bloody tears stretching along his cheeks. He didn’t want to see the dial he’d shoved into his eye, tuned to a station that no longer exists, spitting out nothing but the soft buzzing static.

“And we’ll always have each other.”

#cw: gore #ectoimplosion2024 #body horrow cw #its zombies man #its all of the zombie stuff

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kitthepurplepotato · 2 years ago

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MWRMI part 5

My Weird Roommate, Midoriya Izuku

Week 3 Part 1 - Reality Check.

~•🥦•~

Summary: Living with pro hero Deku was too good to be true; when Midoriya doesn’t come home one night, Y/N realizes how painful it is to love the Number One Hero.

Warnings: Injured Deku, swear words, a hint of angst.

First part Master List

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

After having Midoriya around you for a whole day the house feels cold and strange without the green haired nerd. Your moping got to a point when even All Meowt felt sorry enough for you to come out and keep you company so needless to say, you definitely look pathetic right now.

Sometimes, when the urge to see your flatmate got unbearable you messaged him about stupid things; random hero fun facts, fan arts, screenshots, a picture of you cooking his favorite meal and for your surprise, Midoriya responded to all of them.

After a while he also started to send you random pictures about his patrol; sometimes it was just a lovely picture of the sunset but sometimes they were grimy and disgusting; pictures of his injuries or a selfie of Midoriya with a massive black eye. Usually, by the time the greenette came home the injuries were gone thanks to the amazing healer guy they have on their team, but that doesn’t make it easier to see him like that. Being close to a hero isn’t a fucking dream, it’s more like a nightmare. You never know when it’s the last time you see him and you can never sleep soundly until you hear the door open; what if he ends up in a hospital and no one informs you? What if he comes home thinking he’s all okay but there is an internal bleeding killing him slowly while he sleeps?

Yeah, being close to heroes suck.

But let’s come back to the present now; to the present that’s also not so pleasant.

You wake up in the middle of the night to a notification on your phone; you dozed off on the table again while working on another project. The notification almost makes you throw up; it’s an article about a massive fight in the middle of the city, not too far away from your current home. You turn on the TV as the article states it’s being aired live; you can see pro hero Deku, barely standing on the sidelines while the rest of his team finishes the work in the middle. Dynamight manages to catch the last villain, so technically the heroes won, but you can’t help the tears trailing down your cheeks from seeing your friend wobbling to the nearest emergency station before passing out in the nurse’s arms.

You try to keep calm but you can’t stop yourself from sending him a message.

You: Please send me a message when you wake up, Midoriya!

Just as you expected, there is no response coming back. Fuck.

Thankfully, All Meowth graces you with his existence and lets you pet his fluffy little head. What a supportive little animal.

After a few dreadful minutes; 40, to be exact, there is a notification on your phone.

Midoriya: ….!hehdgeuehdbgenevrm

Midoriya: I!m oksbdgeb

Midoriya: fuxk

Midoriya: Hey Freeloader, stop freaking the shit out, I’ll bring him home as soon as he’s coherent. Make him some soup or some shit, the fucker didn’t take a break today. I’m also hungry by the way and I deserve a fucking serving.”

You don’t need to think twice to know who wrote that message. You sigh and take a deep, shaky breath.

He’s fine. He’s coming home.

~•🥦•~

“We’re home!” Dynamight’s loud and hoarse voice breaks through the silence.

In any other situation, you would probably take five to ten minutes to fangirl over the fact that Dynamight is here; he might be rough and abrasive towards everyone but his good looks and heroic deeds still managed to take him to the second place on the hero rankings; but right now, you can only see the green haired man who’s holding into his shoulders like he can’t even stand straight without help.

“Midoriya…” You run through the living room to check up on him but Dynamight puts his arms out to stop you in your tracks.

“He’s high.” He declares. “Our healer’s quirk likes to kick you in the ass when it’s overused. He’s not aware of his surroundings, so don’t even bother.” The blonde hero rolls his eyes and makes his way towards the kitchen, the greenette limping after him, still holding the guy’s shoulder like a lifeline.

“Izuku, we are going to eat and then you are going to bed, okay?” Dynamight pushes Izuku’s chin up to force eye contact; he speaks to him with a soft, reassuring voice like he’s a random toddler he found on the street. They sit down next to each other on the dining table then Izuku nods but doesn’t move towards his food; the blonde sighs and takes the spoon in his hand. “Open your fucking mouth, you big baby!” Dynamight screams at the clearly high greenette, who obeys without hesitation.

… it’s 5 fucking AM and here you are, staring at motherfucking Dynamight force feeding pro hero Deku with your soup at your fucking dining table.

This fanfiction got really weird, really quickly.

“Where is Y/N?” Izuku speaks up after gaining some color in his cheeks. You perk up at the sound of your name but you decide not to get involved in their conversation.

“She’s literally sitting opposite of you, you dump fuck.” The blonde grumbles, clearly fucking done with the situation.

“Is she okay?”

This is such a Midoriya thing to do that you can’t help but smile; the guy comes home after almost dying on the battlefield yet his first coherent question is about someone else’s wellbeing.

“No, she’s probably scarred for life after seeing me feeding you, to be honest.”

Well, what were you expecting from Dynamight, sugar coating? Nah.

“No…” Midoriya’s voice trembles. You really want to hug him. “I don’t want her to be mad. I don’t want her to leave!”

Fuck, your face is wet. You never ever want to see that look on Midoriya’s face, it’s absolutely heartbreaking.

“She’s not going anywhere you moron. She made this soup for you, so eat it.” Dynamight grumbles at him again, but Deku only smiles at him.

“What the fuck are you smiling at me for?” The blonde is clearly not a big fan of affection, his face contorts into a frown from all the cheesiness.

“Y/N’s soup is even better than yours.” The greenette answers with a lovesick smile on his face but apparently, this wasn’t the right thing to say as the blonde’s face heats up in anger.

“Now take that back you asshole or I’ll push this spoon down your fucking throat.” Dynamight looks like he’s about to explode but Deku is clearly unaffected by the empty threat.

“No, Kacchan is mad.” Midoriya’s shit eating grin is so huge it can probably be seen from the top of Mt.Fuji. The blonde decides he’s done with Deku’s shenanigans and literally throws the guy into his bedroom without a single warning. He comes out after five minutes and sits down on the sofa; he holds his hand out and stares at you until you put one and two together.

Ahh, he’s asking for food.

“I really wanted to hug him before he goes to sleep.” You reprimand as you make your way to the sofa with a big bowl of soup. You made a special batch for the spice loving blonde as a thank you. Dynamight rolls his eyes and nods approvingly at the taste.

“I don’t want to listen to him bitching about embarrassing himself in front of you again. For some fucking reason he really cares about shit like that when it comes to you.” Bakugou answers nonchalantly, like you’ve known each other for ages and this isn’t your first ever conversation. After seeing your confused face, he elaborates on the topic. “He won’t remember you being with us because I didn’t let him look at you. He’ll wake up tomorrow thinking you were fast asleep and he won’t beat himself up about it.”

“So long story short, you being an asshole is all an act and you are actually more like a protective big brother.” You poke at the sleeping bear, but for your surprise, he doesn’t get offended by you seeing through him.

Okay. This is new. This is not how people portray Bakugou in their fanfictions.

“We are all family. We support each other. Being a hero is a lonely job so if we are not there for each other no one ever will ever be.” The blonde answers with a straight face but his voice gets melancholic by the end of his sentence.

You don’t know what to say to that. You understand the sentiment but at the same you can’t help but wonder how the fuck is the pain not worth it. These people; both Midoriya and Bakugou; are the most protecting, most loving people you’ve ever met in your life. They are loyal to a fault and they go out of their way to make their loved ones feel safe.

“You guys deserve the fucking world and some blood and the lack and of contact during missions won’t change my mind about that. This night was the worst day of my life but I would do it over and over again if it means I can stay close to him, because he’s worth it.”

You definitely overshared a bit, but by the look of it, Bakugou doesn’t care nor comments on it.

“You are different than the rest.” He mumbles, playing with a piece of meat at the bottom of the almost empty bowl.

“Different?”

“Yeah. I didn’t like this whole roomie idea, you know.” He admits. “It’s dangerous, even with a mutual friend. A lot of people tried to use him and he’s so fucking naive. But I can see it in your eyes, you know… That you care about him. And he also can’t shut up about you, so.. welcome to the family, or whatever. Also, gimme’ your phone number so I can update you on all the shit so you don’t freak out.” Bakugou throws his unlocked phone into your lap; his background is a picture of the gang sitting on each other on Deku’s sofa. He’s so cute.

“Thank you… for accepting me. It means a lot.” You mumble sheepishly, your whole face red as a tomato. Bakugou snaps his phone out of your hands and throws it in the air to catch it, just to be cool and edgy.

“Save the cheesy shit for the nerd, Freeloader.” The blonde grins. “Make sure he sleeps enough. He’ll be good as new by the afternoon.” Dynamight stands up to put the dishes into the dishwasher. “Thanks for the food, send me the recipe.”

And with that, the hero is gone and the the silence is back; you lie down on the sofa and listen to the noises coming from Deku’s room, but after a few rustles, everything quiets down and only the soft, content snores can be heard from the room next door.

You fall asleep on the sofa, not having the energy to go into your room; at least you will be there in case Midoriya needs help during the night.

~•🥦•~

You wake up to Midoriya’s footsteps around 9 AM; barely a few hours after he came home last night. He looks disheveled and confused as he tries to put on his hero costume.

“Midoriya… go to sleep.” You pull yourself up; the hero jumps in surprise by the sight of you. “How do you want to fight evil if you can’t even sense me sleeping on the sofa, huh?”

You know that’s a low blow, but you’d do anything to keep the hero from going out today. He needs to stay home and you also need him to rest for your own sanity. He looks pale and all over the place, there is no way you’ll let him go out like that.

“Y/N, I’m fine. I can’t skip work…” Midoriya is just about to start rambling about the importance of his job, but you don’t let him finish. You throw your phone towards him which he catches in one swift move.

“Read it.”

Dynamight: Yo, freeloader. Tell Deku he’s not needed today. I found cover for him. If he leaves the house I’ll kill him.

“How does he know your number?”

Fuck, you didn’t think this through. Midoriya is not supposed to know about yesterday.

“He left a note with his number on the table, so I sent him a message.” You lie, feeling terrible for doing so but it’s all for his sake.

Deku doesn’t say anything just sits down next you; his face looks sad and heartbroken, but he doesn’t say a word about it. You really want to hug him but you are not sure it would be appreciated right now.

“Mido…” You are just about speak up, but he doesn’t let you finish.

“You are lying to me.” He declares with a heartbroken smile. He knows. He doesn’t remember but he’s a clever guy and you are a terrible liar.

“Not all lies are bad. Sometimes, people lie for the sake of their loved ones.”

“I also lied.” Midoriya admits. “About me being okay. I’m really tired. Mentally. Physically. In every single way.”

“I know.“ You can’t help it; your hands move towards Midoriya’s frizzy curls. Midoriya melts into the touch, clearly desperate for affection now that the air is clean between you two. “Put your head into my lap and let’s watch a movie, okay?” That way he can fall asleep and you can keep an eye on him for the rest of the day. Win-Win.

~•🥦•~

As the movie starts, the two of you fall into a comfortable silence. It’s a dumb and fluffy movie, something that takes his mind away from all the violence in the real world. Midoriya’s hair is full of knots under your palm, so you slowly rake your fingers through the mess, detangling it lock by lock as the green haired hero contentedly sighs, urging you to keep going. It’s way too domestic and way too intimate but you can’t stop; Midoriya clearly needs the attention right now, he’s melting into your touch, his cheek buried into the soft throw that sits between your things and his head for more comfort.

When the movie ends, you realize you didn’t even look at the screen once but neither did Midoriya; he’s fast asleep on your lap, drooling like a golden retriever after a full day of fun. You try to clean him up a bit but he’s not having any of it; he murmurs in his sleep and takes your hand in his, subconsciously caressing the skin. A shiver goes down your spine from the soft touch, churning your insides with it, but you don’t have the heart to wake him up.

Midoriya is too much. He’s so kind, so beautiful, so affectionate, and so-so full of love; you can’t believe you are on the receptive side of all of this. You really feel like you don’t deserve Midoriya’s attention and deep inside you know it doesn’t mean the same to him as it means to you but right here, right now, you let it all in, ready for the biggest heartbreak in your life when this is all over.

~•🥦•~

You wake up after a few hours, still in the same position. Midoriya’s now flawlessly fluffy head is still resting in your lap but he’s facing the other way around; he looks up at you with sleepy eyes, a tired but honest smile decorating his handsome face.

“Good morning, sweet pea.” He mumbles half asleep, hiding his face in your tummy for a few more seconds of peace.

The nickname almost makes your heart stop, but you try your best to ignore the fluttery feeling in your chest.

“I’m quite sure it’s afternoon.” You strike back with a sass, which the green haired hero blissfully ignores.

“Whatever. It’s nice.”

“Yeah.” You admit with a red face, and this is the moment Dynamight chooses to barge into the flat with a bunch of other people behind him.

Okay, this is extremely awkward.

Do these people know how to knock?!

“THE MIDORIYA CHEERING UP SQUAD HAS ARRIVED!” Chargebolt yells while the others hide their faces in embarrassment.

“By the look of it, shitty Deku has a good enough time already.” Dynamight snickers and Deku jumps up like a happy puppy to forcefully hug the shit out of the annoyed blonde. While everyone is busy staring at the two hugging each other, you take a moment to take a look at the intruders; every single of these people are heroes you follow on every single available social media.

Don’t freak out.

Don’t. Freak. Out.

Don’t…

“OH MY GOD, THATS RED RIOT THAT’S FUCKING RED RIOT, Midoriya!”

Fuck.

… Next Part!

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Random ramble from the potato:

- Thank you so much for all the love on this series I'm so happy you love it as much as I do, this is baby😭💚

- Also, you are not ready for the next part! Ask my bestie, she has a lot to say about it. 😂 @porusuniverse

- I accidentally bought a Deku figurine today. And a Todoroki one. It was an accident, I swear. Kacchan was lonely, he needed a friend.

Likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated as always 💚 Tell me your thoughts! 🥦

Taglist: @porusuniverse @stickygumchewer @sixxze @mily-moo (wanna be added? Just tell me in the comments/send me a message!)

#mha x reader #bnha x reader #midoriya izuku x you #midoriya x y/n #midoriya x you #pro hero deku #deku x reader #midoriya x reader #midoriya izuku x reader #midoriya izuku #my hero academia

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moonlight0934 · 3 months ago

Text

Public Display

Nagisa slips into his house, deciding to enjoy the quiet while his mom is still at work. He drops into a chair in the living room, then pulls out his homework. He doesn’t end up actually working on that for very long, and ends up falling asleep. It’s an hour later when he wakes up to the door opening.

“Hey, Mom,” Nagisa calls, blinking to dislodge the sleep from his eyes.

“Why do you sound like that? Your voice is so deep,” his mom says, sounding annoyed.

“Sorry, I was asleep. It’ll regulate. Anyway, how was your day?” Nagisa asks as he slips the rubber bands out of his hair.

He runs his hands through his hair, frowning as he realizes how long it’s gotten.

“It was fine.” She walks in, and sits beside him. “I had a good day at work, and I picked up the groceries for your favorite soup.”

Nagisa frowns.

“Oh, why? You don’t like that soup.”

Shit, she wants something. What could she possibly want right now?

“I just thought I’d make it. It’s not like I dislike it.”

Oh no, she’s dodging. It’s bad.

“Ok, that’s fine. What are your plans for the rest of the week?”

“Well, my company is having a party this weekend, but I haven’t gotten the exact details yet.”

Yes she has. She definitely wants me to come, but there’s no way that’s it. What’s she going to ask me to do?

Nagisa hums.

“Well, I hope you have a good time. I need to do my homework, so I’ll be upstairs doing that unless you need help with dinner.”

She shakes her head, and Nagisa stands up. He takes his bag and books up the stairs to his room before dropping onto the bed.

“Ugh, I am not ready for the other shoe to drop. I wonder how long it’s going to take. It’s already Thursday, so it can’t take that long if the party is this weekend.”

Nagisa buries his face into his pillow with a long-suffering sigh. He’s right, and his mother sits him down after dinner the next night for a chat.

“So, I want you to come with me to my party this weekend. It’s going to be on Saturday, and it’s going to start at six o’ clock. So cancel any weekend plans you have.”

“Ok, I’m just going to have to call Karma, but that’s easy enough. Is there anything else?”

“No, just know that I’ll be helping you get ready on Saturday.”

Nagisa nods, standing up.

“Ok, what time do I need to start that process?”

“Three.”

That’s a long time. There’s definitely something she isn’t telling me.

Nagisa tries to put it out of his head until he has to talk to Karma the next day.

He walks out with Karma while Karma chatters about something he’s going to be doing later.

“Why are you so quiet?” he asks suddenly.

“Oh, I actually needed to talk to you about that. I’m not going to be able to help you with that writing project this weekend. My mom wants me to go to some work event with her.”

“Then why don’t we just push it to Sunday?”

“Um… I’ve got a lot of cleaning to do this Sunday. I know it’s already Thursday, but can you find someone else to help you with it?”

Karma frowns.

“Yeah, I guess I can. Are you excited, or is it going to be boring?”

“I’m not sure. I don’t have much information yet, but I guess I’m not too bothered that I have to do it.”

Karma hums.

“Well that sucks, especially since I’m not coming into school tomorrow. So, I’ll see you on Monday.”

“Ok, bye, Karma. Thanks for being understanding.”

Karma laughs. Nagisa walks home, and forces himself not to think about it again. Since it’s only a day and half away, there’s no reason to stress about it. He just needs to wait and see what happens.

His mom doesn’t end up coming into his room until three thirty on Saturday. She’s holding the most extravagant midnight blue dress that Nagisa has ever seen.

“What is that?”

“This is your outfit for the event. We have to get started if we want to have your hair and makeup done in time. It took me longer than I thought to do my own makeup.”

“I thought I was going to be wearing my tux if it was that fancy.”

“No, sweetheart, you’re going to look much better in this.”

“I don’t want to wear that, Mom.”

“Well, if you don’t wear it, then I’m going to pull you out of that stupid E-Class. If your teacher still has a problem with it, then I’ll pull you out of the school entirely. It has not been good for you, and those people are bad influences.”

Nagisa sighs, his eyes darkening.

“Ok, fine.”

“Good, now let’s get you ready.”

She dresses him up, curls his hair, and puts makeup on him.

“Why do I have to do this?” Nagisa asks as he steps into the heels that his mother bought him.

“Because I told you to. You’re so beautiful like this.”

The drive is quiet. The venue is extravagant, and huge. There are tons of people milling around, and most of them wave as Nagisa’s mom leads him to the door. Nagisa’s face burns, but he doesn’t say anything. She’s smiling widely though.

“Hey, Hiromi, it’s good to see you. Oh, and I see you finally decided to bring your daughter. Hi, sweetie, how are you?” a man at the entrance asks.

Nagisa doesn’t look up until his mother elbows him.

“She’s just shy.”

“Hi,” Nagisa says lamely, barely glancing at the man’s face.

“Come on, dear.”

His mother spends the next hour and a half parading him around to all of her friends, cooing about how adorable her daughter is. Nagisa barely says anything until she finally sits down.

“You told your co-workers that you have a daughter?”

“Well, not exactly. They just assumed, and I never corrected them.”

“I’m leaving.”

“No you’re not. You want to go back to school, don’t you? Just stay for another hour or two. It’ll be more fun from here on out.”

“Why do you even care if I walk home?”

“Because my boss isn’t here yet, and I want you to meet him.”

Nagisa sits down too, tucking his chin in his hand.

“Don’t do that, it’s not cute.”

Nagisa huffs, but leans back. He almost immediately sits up, straightening his spine before his mother can say anything. It’s another hour before two men walk over. One is older, and the other one looks like he’s in his early twenties.

“Hi, how are you?” Nagisa’s mom asks, standing up.

The older man smiles.

“Good afternoon, I’m good. Is this Nagisa?”

“Yes, this is my baby, Nagisa.”

“My son’s wanted to meet you for some time now. Your mother speaks very highly of you.”

Nagisa forces a smile onto his face as he glances at the younger man. He still looks like he can’t be younger than twenty two.

“Well, it’s wonderful to meet both of you.”

“Why don’t you go dance with Trevor while I talk to my boss?” Nagisa’s mom asks, pushing Nagisa towards the younger man.

Trevor holds his hand out, and Nagisa has to stop himself from physically recoiling. He takes Trevor’s hand, and lets himself be led onto the dance floor. The music is quiet and slow, but Nagisa still has them dance arms length from each other. Trevor tries to talk to him a few times, but he isn’t really listening. Eventually Trevor gets the hint, and takes him back over to the table.

“Ah, how was your dance?” the older man asks.

“It wasn’t great. Can we go, Dad?”

“Yes, of course. It was nice seeing you, Hiromi. It was also a pleasure to meet you Nagisa, I hope to see you again.”

They’re walking away before either of them can respond. Nagisa’s mom turns back to him.

“Come on, we’re going home.” They’re in the car before she speaks again. “You could have at least pretended to be nice.”

“I was nice. I just wasn’t the kind of nice that he wanted. Also, he thought I was a girl.”

“Yes, I know that.”

She opens her car door, and slams it shut again as soon as she’s out.

“Mom, I don’t want to go to your work functions so I can act like I’m a girl.”

She turns around to face Nagisa.

“I am doing this for your own good. You could have so many opportunities if you just stop being so stubborn. I could have gotten assigned something that could have changed our lives. Instead now they’re annoyed with me, because you were rude.”

“I wasn’t rude.”

“You were rude. Now go to your room.”

Nagisa goes to his room, changes, and throws himself down on his bed. He silently sobs, his face buried in his pillow. His mom comes by to take his phone, but leaves him alone otherwise. So, he spends the rest of the night crying alone in his room.

#whumptober2024 #whumptober #no.23 #forced choice #public display #i'm doing this for you #assassination classroom #nagisa shiota #karma akabane #emotional angst #child abuse #whump writing #writing challenge

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vivianleighwishesshewasme · 4 months ago

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Study Buddies chapter 2

Well Wishes

John Shelby was still out two weeks into the group project. Pneumonia was the culprit. The Doctor had been fetched when Tommy’s tablets stopped helping to reduce the fever and John’s conversations with their mother persisted. Tommy couldn’t take the constant delusional chatter and worry that their mother had a hold on John and was truly coming to take him. He’d also never admit it out loud but he was jealous that she was talking to John and not him.

Polly was run ragged. Couldn’t even sleep herself sick with worry. Tommy worried when she had set fire to her skirts one morning. She hadn’t done that since she was eight and didn’t know better. One more day and he knew she’d have been unfortunately successful to no fault of her own. She slept in the wooden chair near John's bed most nights praying over him. When she was able to slip away it was to work at the betting shop or light a candle for him.

He was on the mend though thanks to Polly, her soups, water and the tablets the Doctor had prescribed John. The opium to help him sleep probably didn’t hurt either.

A soft knock on the door alerted the room's owner. After a soft,” come in” Polly walked in with a bright smile on her face. He had been up and down all day. Almost equal in time now meaning he was getting better. She had come with a tray of tea, biscuits and a small bowl of bread and soup. That bread he had smelled for almost two weeks now off and on. It was heavenly.

“John, you up for company?” Polly asked tenderly while placing down the tray and distributing everything in front of him. She took out a tablet and passed it to him. She did everything to the exact hour. He took the tablet and swallowed the tea. She smiled and affectionately ruffled his hair. He looked up at her and grinned.

“Quit messing up my hair Pol. I’m alive thanks to you and Tommy eh.” He playfully swatted at her earning him a light smack on the shoulder. He chuckled. He was feeling a lot better. Grateful he had made it. He was tired of sleeping. His body now ached from laying down all day. He rotated his shoulder and reached for the bread, happy to dunk it into the soup. Best bread he’d ever had in his entire life.

“Well, you are definitely on the mend. I’ll send her in.” Polly walked briskly to his door and down the stairs, her heels clicking on each step. John sat back and thought. What did she mean, her? Why would a girl visit him?

He had been told he was handsome by several girls in school but he’d never been seriously flirting with one. Was this one of his little stalkers that doodled his name in her book and pretended to be shy when he caught it. He knew the intention when he saw it. He’d never dated even at sixteen. After school he helped in the shop and helped with Ada and Finn. He really didn't have time for anything other than his family.

“How are you feeling?” A soft sweet voice dripping of honey was warm to his ears. Martha Anderson, the shy quiet girl in his class stood before him. He stared at her for a moment. She was pretty to look at. Always well kept and clean. She smelled of soap if he had to stand next to her in the hallway. Why was she here to see him?

“I'm alive, still sleeping more than I think I have my whole life.” he said casually. He couldn’t understand why she was here checking up on him. He wasn’t mean to her, he just didn’t really care to pay any attention to her before.

“Yeah, I’m glad you are alive.” She said with kindness dripping from her voice. She walked a little closer to the table still not sitting or asking to sit. He motioned to the chair across from him. She smiled broadly and sat down across from him.

“ My sister had pneumonia last year. She didn’t make it. I’m glad you are okay.” He caught the hitch in her voice when she’d mention her sister. He had almost died but he didn’t think now was the time to tell her that. She seemed different to him. More confident maybe outside of school.

“Thank you Martha, sorry about your sister eh.” John meant what he said. He couldn’t imagine losing his siblings, especially after the death of their mother. He and Tommy had found her. That last image of her never left his mind no matter how hard he tried to think of any other sweet memories of her.

“ Well, I have cards for you.” she said, causing him to jolt from his thoughts. He dropped the bread and it plopped into his soup. He cursed and fished it out with his spoon. Setting it aside on the teacup plate he scowled at the soaking bread. Well that bite was ruined. Thanks Martha he thought bitterly. That bread was his favorite and only thing he’d enjoyed in this sickness. It was almost better than Polly's soup. Not that he’d ever admit that out loud to anyone. No, that secret was going to his grave with him.

“Cards? For what?” he asked. Why would anyone give him cards? He didn’t go out of his way to be friendly and he started more fights then he’d ever admit to just for fun.

“From the class and one from a teacher and one from the janitor. Well wishes to get better.” Martha grinned and shoved the cards towards him, careful to be mindful not to place them in the spill near the soup bowl that the wayward bread had caused. She wasn’t a careless girl. John’s face screwed up in confusion. No one ever did this for him before, why now?

“What teacher? And why the janitor?” He was genuinely puzzled. She placed her hand over her mouth to his smile. He raised an eyebrow in disapproval of her actions. She was treating him as if he’d done something cute. He wasn’t cute, Finn was cute, he was a little kid. John was practically a man.

“I guess you shoved a kid and yelled at him last year for knocking over the janitor's cart intentionally. He appreciated it and the fact that you helped him up and picked up afterwards.”

“What teacher Babs?” he inquired as he shoved another piece of manna into his mouth. She looked thoughtfully at him before continuing giving him time to chew before she spoke. He appreciated her manners.

“Oh, Mrs. Changretta. Guess she’s sweet on you.” John scoffed as he dipped his spoon into his broth.

“Guess she gave me sweets sometimes, spanked my arse once. Called me a cheeky bugger a few times.” They both chuckled at her nickname for him.

“Was she wrong?” Martha teased. John almost choked. She was a completely different person outside of school and church. He almost couldn’t believe it. He hadn’t had any medicine today so he knew he wasn't imaging it.

“Haha, I like you like this mouse.” He said as he pointed his spoon at her. He spoke before she could interrupt to protest. “You're actually funny and friendly when you're not hiding behind your friends.” Martha pulled back in the seat and looked down at her alp. He felt a twinge of guilt. He had meant it as a compliment.

“I don't have any friends. I'm too busy, family, work and stuff. And you're not calling me Mouse, John Shelby.” He felt relief when she looked up and weakly grinned at him. She was trying to pull herself up. He appreciated her spirit.

“Mouse it is then.” He goaded. She picked up the biscuit and tossed it at him. He laughed and caught it tossing it back at her. He hit her right in the chest and she pouted. God, she was fun to be around.

“Hey, no hitting the sick man.” He scolded her. His heart wasn’t really in it. He was biting his cheeks to keep from laughing. His stomach hurt from the belly laughs she was giving him.

“I don't see a man, just a cheeky boy.” She teased and used the time he wasn’t reacting to toss the biscuit back hitting him.

“Oi, knock it off mouse, or I'll knock it out of you!” He threatened, his giggles erupting ruining his tone.

“You are definitely feeling better.” She commented glad to see him awake and alert.

“ Maybe it's the company.” He winked at her. She sat back, her eyes as wide as the teacup saucer. He was flirting unabashedly with her. She sat in silence as he reached out to shuffle the cards on the table.

“Which ones from you, eh?” He asked, blushing. She was crimson red flushed all over her lovely face. She pulled out a soft baby blue card with a white paper doily trim. Her handwriting was phenomenal, neat and curled beautifully. She definitely practiced her cursive. His numbers were always nice and neat but never his letters. He slid it off the table and tossed it toward his bed, grateful when it didn’t land on the floor. He thanked her and took a huge sip of his soup. He was trying to still his fast beating heart, what was this little mouse doing to him.

“Thanks for feeding my family. We can care for ourselves, you know.” He hadn’t meant it to come out harshly but it had. Pain raced across her face and she quickly put on a social mask and smiled. She didn’t mean it. He wasn’t used to charity.

“Were neighbors John, it's what we should do when someone is lame.” She smirked at him. She wasn’t going to take the high road, that was interesting to him.

“I’m not lame, just not awake enough yet. Watch yourself Andrews. I’ll come for you when I am.” Her sweet laugh echoed off his walls. It was genuine again.

“And do what with me John?” She challenged and rolled her eyes. He leaned over his food getting as close to her as possible. She sat back personal space having been invaded.

“Maybe I'll kiss you.” He said his voice barely above a whisper. It was her turn to blush again, shifting the flirty power back to him.

“Anyway, get better…I don't want to carry you through the project Shelby.” She stood up briskly teasing him. He noticed the change. He’d embarrassed her.

“Yeah yeah, like you're smarter than me Martha. It’ll be me carrying you through the project eh?” She was highly intelligent. They both knew it now.

“Hey, tell whoever made the bread, I want to marry them.” She had turned toward the door but stood frozen in the doorway. John grinned like a cat that caught his mouse. He’d suspected it had been her. She had watched him eat very much of only the bread. He had her where he wanted her now. She shook her head and walked out.

He sat back and rubbed his face with both hands, Martha, Martha Anderson was his little angel. She’d be in trouble when he got back to school. He had seen too much of her personality. He knew she had to be his girl eventually. Free bread wouldn’t hurt his feelings either.

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#peaky blinders fanfic #john shelby #martha shelby #polly grey #thomasshelby

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ineffable-kelpie · 1 year ago

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Special Delivery

Rating: G

Wordcount: 418

Prompt: A sleepy hug

Characters: Lesley (the International Express Man), Maud

Lesley balanced the tray on one hand as he pushed the bedroom door open. Inside, Maud was still sound asleep. He knocked twice on the door to announce himself. “Special delivery.”

Maud stirred groggily and tried to look at him. “What’s this?”

“Late lunch,” said Lesley, setting the tray on the bedside table and turning on the lamp. Maud still looked pale and groggy, but when he laid the back of his hand against her head, it felt cooler than the last time he’d checked. Hopefully her fever had finally broken. Lesley sat on the edge of the mattress beside her. “Or early dinner, if you like. I wanted to let you sleep, figured you needed the rest, but you’ve got to eat something at some point.”

Maud lifted her head and sniffed. “Is that your chicken dumping soup?”

“Fresh off the stove.”

“Aw, tiger.” Maud turned and wrapped an arm around his waist with a sleepy smile. “I’m lucky you recovered first. That way you’re feeling better, and I get homemade soup, so we both win.”

Lesley chuckled and leaned over to return the hug as best he could in their current positions. “How are you feeling now?”

“Still achy, but better. The fourteen hours of sleep probably helped.” Maud pushed herself up to a sitting position.

Lesley helped move the pillows to cushion her back, and then passed her the soup. “There you go. Eat up.”

“You take such good care of me,” she said, smiling, settling the tray on her lap.

“Of course, love.” Lesley kissed her forehead. Yes, her fever had definitely broken. “Glad to see you on the mend.”

He sat with her in comfortable silence as she ate, one hand resting on her knee. “It’s really lucky you were able to get time off work this week,” said Maud after several minutes. “I know how rigid the delivery schedule can be.”

It was stranger than that. Lesley had never had any deliveries scheduled this week in the first place. It was like whoever arranged such things had known he was going to get sick. The exact same thing had happened the last few times he got sick, and when he’d needed time off to attend his aunt’s funeral, and when a burst pipe had flooded their basement. He had long since stopped questioning these things, but he still didn’t know how to explain them to Maud. She wouldn’t believe half the things he’d seen at his job, anyway. “Lucky,” he agreed.

#good omens fanfic #good omens ficlet #international express man #good omens lesley #good omens maud #sickfic #hugfest 2024 #cyankelpie's fic

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iviarellereads · 2 years ago

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Full TLT series to date thoughts on rereading Harrow the Ninth, chapters 21-30

A probably semi-regular weekly bonus to my reread blog, since sometimes you realize things on reread that just make you need to yell in a full spoiler space.

The mewling baby noise in Harrow's head… I don't recall seeing this before, nor an explanation. Is it Gideon's baby cries from Wake's memories? The babies killed to conceive Harrow? Nona's manifestation beginning?

My hint about Cam and Pal's "deaths" in the River bubble scenario might be on the edge of a spoiler, but part of this project is encouraging asking questions about detail in what we read, so I stand by it.

SNERK and other noises of stifled amusement. "The Sleeper, who sleepeth not. Perhaps a better name would have been … the Waker." Ortus, you dork, giving away that it's Wake before any first time reader has her name.

The rusted pipette needles that come in on a wave in chapter 21… I've been kind of operating under the assumption that they relate to Wake and the BOE's research, or perhaps more specifically Wake's attempts to execute Dios Apate, Major.

Has anyone determined whether it was Pyrrha or G1deon fucking Wake-in-Cyth-clothing in chapter 23?

I'm sure everything that can be said of the soup scene already has been said, somewhere, but knowing that Jod will reconstitute himself from atoms later on, the whole "spell to freeze the people in the room without freezing time" seems much less impressive.

Chapter 27 and the bone regrowth. I have to admit, I hadn't dug too deep into the fandom last time I read this, so I never saw it in the mirrored sex scene way some folks do, but now… I definitely see it. I can even see Gideon, as an unreliable narrator of the scene, not giving Harrow the detail she noticed and was jealous of. Or, if you think this scene does happen as described, I can see Gideon mentally removing the details she didn't want to think about from her record as we read it. The only problem with this interpretation is Gideon's subsequent statement that Harrow had never even seen two people get hands on each other before at Dios Apate, Minor.

Abigail tried to move the teens on to what comes after but they're too stubbornly teen-aged to listen.

The infamous "I will remember your mouth" line. Wake sure had a way with words, you gotta give her that much. Though, with a name like hers, how couldn't you?

Dios Apate, Minor. Still an incredible execution, and the fact that John still doesn't suspect anything from the way they've come on to him at least once before in the exact manner. And even the reader, while you might suspect that they've deceived him in some way before, I think it would be very difficult to guess the extent of Dios Apate, Major at this stage. So good.

#tlt #the locked tomb #gideon the ninth #harrow the ninth #nona the ninth #nona the ninth spoilers #nona spoilers #tlt spoilers #the locked tomb spoilers

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xprojectrpg · 6 months ago

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Moment of Awesome - Meggan Szardos/Gloriana: Following the sudden flooding of District X, Meggan and Spectrum work together to find a missing family member in a bodega.

It was so quiet that Meggan had almost missed it, but yes. There it was again. It was a bit louder the second time, and a bit more identifiable as a rather worried meow. “I think that’s the missing cat,” she realized. She set aside the bag of debris as she tried to zero in on the exact spot the sound emanated from.

“Right about...here,” she noted as she heard another noise. She flew upward, and carefully shifted the foam tile, thankfully one over from the actual location, so no animal came tumbling down on their heads. “Hello, there,” she softly whispered to its occupant. She didn’t want to just grab the poor dear and scare her into scratching. “Sorry your home filled with all the water.”

Luckily, the cat treats were on a higher shelf, and in plastic bags - Nica grabbed a pouch and floated up to perch on the top of the shelves, near the section of ceiling Meggan was dismantling. "Try these," she suggested, laying the packet within reach. "And I'll do my best impersonation of a nice, warm sunbeam."

“Good idea,” Meggan praised. What cat in its right mind could turn down flopping around in some sunshine? She hoped this one wasn’t too frightened to be tempted into a luxurious beam. She shook a few treats into her palm, and then placed two of them down near the cat. It had briefly backed away, but then appeared torn.

There was some understandably wariness there, some curiosity, a dainty sniff; and then, yes, eating quickly. “Oh, you’re definitely hungry, and I wish we knew your name,” Meggan noted. At this angle, she couldn't read a collar. She would briefly start calling her Miss Calico Doe in her head until she found out the actual moniker for her. “Just a little closer, please,” she encouraged softly.

Nica sat still and quiet, letting Meggan do her thing and just focussing on warmth and light. C'mon kitty kitty, it's all safe here...

Meggan was able to scratch behind the ears as she got a bit closer. The cat gradually began to take an interest in the moving light and the warmth, even as she stole more treats from Meggan. The cat sniffed Meggan’s hand delicately, and then studied the area further below. Meggan moved back slightly, as she spotted the cat was preparing to make a leap from there to a nearby shelf.

Restraining herself from a gleeful squeal as the cat jumped down onto the shelf near her, Nica reached out slowly to let the cat sniff at her glowing hand. "There's a good kitty-cat," she murmured softly, as the cat decided she was safe and began rubbing its head against her hand, purring.

Meggan returned to the ground, grateful the poor thing hadn’t decided to continue on to another hiding place. She poured the remaining treats into her palm. “Would you like more?” She asked, when the cat looked her way expectantly once it heard the crinkle of the package. The treats were quickly accepted, and the purring increased in volume.

Nica took advantage of the treat scarfing to check the cat's collar for a name tag. "Bonita," she read aloud, and the cat looked up and chirped as if agreeing. "Well then, Bonita, let's get you out of here and back home, yes?" The bodega owners, Valentina and Tomas, lived in an apartment not too far away. "We don't have a carrier, but maybe we can find a box that isn't all soggy?" she continued, looking at Meggan as the cat climbed into her lap and curled up, making the most of the warmth being projected.

Meggan went to check. The first one was a bit too shallow to be of any use, but the next one looked like it might be helpful. The boxes beneath it had been ruined, but this one was just high enough that it was okay. “A former box of varieties of soups could work?” As she spoke, she was taking out the cans, and checking the depth.

"Perfect," Nica agreed from on top of the shelving. "Put my coat in the bottom to make it comfy? I don't really need it, it's just for show." She nodded towards the woolen duffle coat tossed carelessly over the counter. "And some treats so she doesn't jump out as soon as we put her in?"

Meggan smoothed out the coat, and then put a small trail of snacks to the box. As Bonita ate, she could only shrug. “That’s the best lure there could be!” She also put five more in the corner of the box, so the cat could have a good allotment of treats to occupy her while she was brought to her home. “Good girl, Bonita,” she praised when it looked like she was wasn’t going to be obstinate about getting in. She was just kneading the wool at the front, though.

Nica meanwhile had floated back down to the floor when Bonita had left her lap in favour of treats. "C'mon, kitty-kitty, she crooned, crouching next to the box and putting her warmly glowing hand inside to encourage the cat to climb all the way in. "There's a girl. Don't you want to go home?"

With a loud purr, Bonita followed the light the rest of the way inside the box, and got to work on the next treat she found. “Good girl,” Meggan cooed.

#moment of awesome #Gloriana #Meggan Szardos #plot #xproject #x-project #rpg #rp

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damiano-mylove · 4 years ago

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Members of Måneskin with a mentally ill/disordered S/O

Illnesses included: Depression, ADD, Tourette's and PTSD (so warnings for that and SH, drug usage, isolation, and heavy topics in general) *Masterlist*

This was a collaborative effort between Nik, Lina, Lute and two unnamed but very appreciated people - all of us afflicted with the varying illnesses above

Vic

Vic would take an empathetic approach to your illness/disorder (relating to you, researching, never pitying)

Depression

Vic would take a more of a nurturing role to your sadness

On the more sad days, Vic would nap with you for a little bit but she'd get to a point where enough would be enough

She would coax you out of bed in ways that appeal to you more than you'd ever care to admit, starting out with just getting you to eat somewhere else than in bed, then eventually moving up to showering, etcetera, etcetera

Vic would be very acutely tuned toward your needs, and she always fulfilled

It broke her heart that you were so sad, but she could relate and that made it a lighter burden on your back

When you first told her, Vic just went silent, then hugged you for a long time

ADD

Vic wouldn't be as supportive in this, but not in a neglectful way

She had a way of getting your attention back on the topic at hand, but sometimes she was just as bad as you for getting away from the main point

The impulsivity, she wasn't the biggest fan of, but you two worked through it like adults

When you'd forget things, Vic wouldn't get annoyed - but she would always remind you when you forgot what you needed to remember

Also, she was the best for finding misplaced things

PTSD

Vic would be very careful to avoid your triggers, however she never felt as if she was walking on eggshells

Before you were able to fully tell her what happened, Vic would never force you to tell her anything you weren't already ready to tell her of your own accord

There was no way she couldn't feel a bit sorry for you, but she never showed it, and she certainly didn't pity you - she just was sorry that something happened to you to give you PTSD

She would be mindful to never act as if she would be able to fix you

Tourette's

It didn't annoy her as much as you thought it surely would - especially since you had been trying to keep the tics at bay in the beginning of your relationship

Vic usually went on like nothing happened when you'd tic, but sometimes she'd laugh if your tics would hit her

Vic would proudly go out with you, even though you were scared about the looks you'd get on the street, but she never minded because she loved you and she wanted to show you that she loved you

Thomas

Thomas would take a supportive approach to your illness/disorder (reminding you to take your meds, making appointments for you if you'd ask, doing anything he could to make you feel better)

Depression

Thomas would always be the perfect person who would just shut the fuck up and cuddle you, but he would only do it if you'd ask because he knew sometimes you didn't feel like being around people

Wasn't really trained in any of this so he just cared for you like he'd like to be cared for

He was doing his best, and it was apparent, but sometimes you'd have to tell him what not to do and what to do

Of course, Thomas wouldn't bat an eye to stop or start doing anything at the raise of your finger - whether it be rub your back or let you be alone for a bit

He understood that he alone could not cure your depression, but he understood that he would be around for the ride, if you would have him

When you first told Thomas, he was silent, just nodding. He asked you a few very respectful questions but would never dream of pushing you. He would rub your knee and assure you of his love for you, no matter what

ADD

Honestly, Thomas didn't know what ADD was, at first

He googled it, then thought better to just ask you for a primary source

During nights where you couldn't sleep, Thomas would be right beside you, not sleeping either, which wasn't healthy for either of you, but it sure as Hell made you feel less lonely

Thomas lost shit and things all the time, so he never judged you for that, and his memory was potentially worse than yours so who was he to speak on that

But he was extremely good at getting you to finish tasks before moving on (sometimes just finishing them himself)

PTSD

Again, didn't exactly know what it entailed at first, but asked you a few questions to clear the air

Thomas would lead you through deep breathing exercises (unless you told him not to) when you were triggered and started losing control

Would always do anything and everything he could to avoid triggers with you

He would he more than patient with you

Tourette's

He would find some of your tics endearing (not harmful ones)

At one point, you'd even developed a verbal tic saying Thomas' name, which he always chuckled at and responded to you every single time as if you'd requested his presence, each time with a new pet name and a smile

If your tics would hit him by accident, you would apologize profusely, but Thomas would always laugh and brush it off

During tic attacks, he knew to just let you be, unless you would stop breathing, then he would certainly step in

He would ask his doctor a "hypothetical" about how to help someone through a tic attack, then used that advice forevermore, and it usually made a helpful difference

Ethan

Ethan would take a companion role (letting you take the lead, showing him what would happen and what to do to help, always listening to you before making his own move)

Depression

He'd dealt with depression before, but thoroughly understood that everyone is different in how they display mental illness

Ethan would recognize what to do, but would ask you for confirmation before acting upon anything that had potential to make a difference

On days where you couldn't leave your bed, he would bring you food (not a steak dinner, but he would definitely bring you soup or toast or a sandwich)

On days where you couldn't shower, he'd either be in the shower with you, or he'd draw you a bath instead, or he'd buy dry shampoo and sanitary wipes (those would be the last case, because he didn't want to throw off your pH)

He would assure you of his love and that you didn't burden him whatsoever

You were suffering, and you didn't make him suffer, but he did take some of that suffering from you

ADD

Certain times, I regret to say, he may get slightly annoyed, but not for long and not to the point of icing you out or anything

Ethan always found things to keep your mind occupied (watching Monty Python (actually a great programme for AD(H)D people), intricate games, new books, etc)

The best at finding lost things, and also has the best memory under the sun

Your symptoms wouldn't bother Ethan, save for constantly speaking (which can get a little annoying during a film or something)

PTSD

Would basically just go one with life - he would avoid all things relating to your triggers and PTSD - but otherwise, it would be business as per usual

If you got triggered, he would be by your side and on your side

He would do anything; deep breathing, distractions, grounding, getting your meds, anything

Ethan would always let you speak about it, when you'd want to, but otherwise treated you the exact same way as he had before you told him

Tourette's

He's always looking for something to joke about, and sometimes your tics provide just the material

He wouldn't dream of taking the piss out of the harmful or mean tics, but if you were laughing, then he was sure to be laughing as well

If your tics involved a bird whistle, he'd call you his 'little red bird' but wouldn't anymore if that upset you

Tourette's are a tough subject to joke about, but Ethan would always listen if you told him it was offensive, unfunny, or just a bad joke and Ethan would always take it in good humour and apologize

Most of the time though, he could make some funny fucking comments

Damiano

Damiano would take a nonchalant approach (not explicitly talking about it, never take the spotlight off you (if he could help it), try his best to help you through any challenges without making you feel like you were an inconvenience to him

Depression

He was your best friend before he was your lover

As such, you were always able to talk to Damiano about your depression anytime you felt it getting bad, as to warn him

Damiano would never leave your side, unless you told him to, but he'd always have a film on in the back, or he'd play with your hair, or distract you by brushing your hair or having you help him pick out an outfit

He enjoyed cleaning, so your bedroom would never become a depression room, and that helped get you out of your slumps most of the time

Dami was also swimmingly good at getting you up, even if it be just for a dance in the moonlight then back to bed, or a walk around the block then on the couch

He understood wanting to cope, but if you were prone to drug usage, Damiano would totally discourage it and stop you from using as best he could

ADD

Not everyday is a trip to Disney, but with Damiano, it is

Damiano always had new records to catch your fancy, he'd always have some home project lined up for the two of you, he'd always let you do extravagant things with makeup on his face

It seemed if you lost something, Dami would find it, but if Damiano lost something, you would find it (good system actually)

Would always have reminders in his phone so he would add reminders for you on his phone (appointments, birthdays, events)

Damiano seemed to always have just the trick to get you to sleep, even when you felt like you physically couldn't

PTSD

After you told him, Damiano would immediately avoid the topic in future conversations

He would support you fully during any trigger or episode, but he never treated you any differently at all just because you have PTSD

It hurt him that something hurt you so badly, but he took it all in a deep breath - after all, he signed up for you, all of you, so he certainly wouldn't give up on you just because of a disorder

Damiano would be in your corner 100%, and you knew it and you knew you could always go to him

Tourette's

Some tics would get that beautiful smile on his face, but otherwise he continued conversations like nothing ever happened

He didn't bat an eye at a physical tic, not a verbal tic

But he was the man to go to during a tic attack

He wouldn't treat you like a science experiment, or like an insane asylum patient - he treated you with love and support, like no one else ever had

Damiano had read about a dozen books on how to support people with Tourette's, and he'd also talked to other people he knew who had Tourette's - Damiano was thoroughly educated on how to help you, the love of his life

headass this was hard to fuckin write and i know its shitty and the cw’s are a bunch and i cut it but im sorry and hope its good enough

#maneskin #måneskin #victoria de angelis #victoria maneskin #victoria de angelis x reader #thomas raggi #thomas raggi x reader #thomas maneskin #ethan torchio #ethan torchio x reader #ethan maneskin #damiano #damiano david #damiano maneskin #damiano david x reader #fanfic #damiano david fanfiction

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nanyoky · 4 years ago

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@essayofthoughts asked for:

"Perc'ahlia babe and also Vaxleth and Pikelan"

Mwahahaha...

Perc'ahlia:

Who’s the messiest one: I mean it depends. Cuz Percy has a place for every little thing. But when he's mid project it tends to turn into organized chaos. Vex may occasionally leave things lying around if she's tired or distracted.

Who feels the most uncomfortable about PDA: definitely Percy, but it's less uncomfortable and more "easily flustered." Like it's just something he's accepted. Vex gunna smooch. Percy gunna blush.

Who’s the funniest drunk: Percy. Cuz he has the same attitude, but he's struggling to take off his socks for bed like "what a- a- idiotic invenshuhh..... Fucking.... Stuplid..... Imma make em better... Make... Sock....better...." While Vex is equally drunk but still doing her four step skincare routine like "yes dear"

Who texts the most: probably Vex. Anything between conversational back and forth, long rambling but deep trains of thought and "LOOK AT THIS DOG I MET"

Who has the most embarrassing taste in music: hmm probably Percy but only in like a "parody of himself" kinda way. Nothing but a mix of chamber orchestra and emo music. Which aren't all that bad on their own, but he is a hashtag Byronic Posh Boi and so of COURSE that's all he listens to. Vex has cool(tm) tastes in music. Even if a song or artist wasn't cool (tm) before, it becomes cool(tm) once she likes it.

Who reads the most: I mean Percy. Not that Vex doesn't read, but he big nerd.

Who’s better with kids: ooo boy that's A QUESTION for some canonical parents, huh? I'm going to say Percy, just because I feel like Vex is a parent who can get overwhelmed sometimes and not know how to handle needy kids when she's running on empty (feel like I should say this does not make a person a bad parent- just that as a kid it's hard to understand that adults get tired). Meanwhile Percy has a natural tone that suggests what he's saying is fact, so if he's too tired for high energy toddlers he's just like "sitting by the fire drinking tea is a very fun game" and the bbs just climb into his lap like "you're right being quiet and snuggly is very fun" while Vex watches like "HOW."

Who’s the one that fixes things around the house: Percy's a good good tinker boi

Who’s got the weirdest hobby: listen one of them invented firearms and the other has a pet bear it's a toss up.

Who cooks and who cleans up: Both are what you might call... Functional cooks. Nothing to write home about, but they get the job done. But Percy excels more at baking (structured, exacting) and Vex is better at more loosely defined things like soups and sauces. Cleaning up is a duo activity and a nice part of their evening wind down.

Vaxleth:

Who’s the messiest one: deffo Keyleth. Houston we have a hoarder. She gets emotionally attached to everything, and saves up little bits and bobs of things for crafting and home diy projects all the time.

Who feels the most uncomfortable about PDA: probably Keyleth, but it's in like- the most Social Anxiety way possible. It's not so much that she's uncomfortable, it's that she gets worried that being snuggly or kissing will make others uncomfortable.

Who’s the funniest drunk: oh that's a hard one. Cuz we've seen them both be high quality drunks, (ie day drinking queen and "heterosexuality is fake and magic is just the fucking best????????"). I'd say Vax because I feel like he's more likely to insist he's not that drunk and doesn't need anyone to look after him, and therefore will get into more shananigans/flirt more

Who texts the most: another toughie. Probably Vax, in a similar style to Vex.

Who has the most embarrassing taste in music: they both have the same issue as Percy, in that their tastes are just a parody of themselves. Vax has three categories of favorite music: sad emo boy, sexy alt boy, and rebellious 90s girl. And then Keyleth is just unironically into the softest cheesiest music you've ever heard on the soundtrack to a chick flick. We're talking Jewel here, folks. Also retro oldies cuz Homeschooled Vibes. I'm going to say Vax tho, cuz he's the one who gets emotional about it, while Keyleth is just a casual listener. And he listens to more of her music than she does his. She'll send him the Live at the Troubadour recording of Kelly Clarkson's Sober and he responds back like "??? Why would you send me this??? At 10am on a Tuesday??? When I have things to do??? Now I'm crying on the bus?????" And she's just "glad you liked it! :D"

Who reads the most: probably Vax. He gets deep into reading in attempts to find less self destructive ways of getting out of his head.

Who’s better with kids: hm I'm gunna say Vax on this one because Keyleth has a tendency to try too hard with everyone and was also an only child who was forced into very structured time while growing up cuz expectations. Vax has more clear memories of actually just being a kid when the twins were with their mom, so he can relate easier. That being said they're both pretty good, as we see with that kid Simon, a scene that will HAUNT ME FOREVER.

Who’s the one that fixes things around the house: def keyleth. DIY queen. Vax just gets frustrated and is like "let's just buy a new one"

Who’s got the weirdest hobby: hmmm. Keyleth has A LOT of hobbies, but Vax def will do parkour, just cuz. Like he may have started back when he was still kind of a criminal, but now he doesn't have a practical excuse and he doesn't even like- record it or anything so there's no point to it. He just sees urban environments and goes "gotta jump. Gotta climb. Just gotta."

Who cooks and who cleans up: Keyleth has got prep on lock. Gardening. Hunting and trapping. Gathering. Cleaning and dressing and chopping. She's got this. It's adding fire to things where she starts having trouble. Vax picks things up from there just fine though, and covers dishes and such on the back end.

Pikelan:

Who’s the messiest one: Pike. Pike. Pike. Having a perma-home at last means she gets comfy, which means you can usually not see the bedroom floor. Scanlan is scandalized.

Who’s the one that fixes things around the house: Scanlan tries. He likes the idea of being helpful with domestic stuff and not just a goofus who's just around for the fun parts of being together. Unfortunately he's never really lived anywhere long enough to get good at household repair, and it takes him way too long to do anything. Pike is pretty handy, but gets so busy that she'll just put up with something being broken for weeks. Best case scenario is Pike shows Scanlan how to do something so the next time he can do it himself and feel accomplished and she can come home to things being fixed and give him smooches and coo over him being a handyman.

Who's the funniest drunk? Pike. "I'M TRYING TO STEALTH."

Who feels the most uncomfortable about PDA: it may shock people, but Scanlan has the same "once it's serious I get bashful" disease as Vax. Pike will absolutely give his bootie a tap in line at the grocery store and he just goes bright red. He tries to laugh it off like he's still the smarmy mess everyone knows, but she teases him endlessly about it.

Who texts the most: Scanlan is an absolute "good morning," "thinking of you," "how was your day," and "goodnight" text person before they live together. After they move in together it's just text versions of his cover songs about his love for her and dank memes.

Who has the most embarrassing taste in music: we know it's Scanlan. We've heard his cover tracks. Pike has similar cool(tm) tastes as Vex.

Who reads the most: Pike is probably someone who's always on the move, so she's more an audiobook person. But Scanlan is like fully ready for the dad life. Just loving any weekend where he does nothing but sit around in flannel pj pants reading a mystery paperback.

Who’s better with kids: It's a hard one. Scanlan second guesses himself quite a bit and worries every little thing he says or does is going to become Lasting Trauma. Pike acts more chill about it, but slowly gets more and more overwhelmed until she nearly has a nervous collapse. But their opposite styles work well together and they're able to be a pretty great team.

Who’s got the weirdest hobby: I feel like Pike is someone with a weird collection. It is either something a little spooky but cool and academic, like antique medical equipment, or something horrifyingly tacky, like a thong from every city she visits. Maybe both.

Who cooks and who cleans up: this is where Scanlan is a much quicker learner about domestic stuff. Pike is a good cook, but it's usually on the move so much she doesn't have the time for meal planning and prep. Scanlan absolutely throws himself into being a house husband and gets obsessed with cooking shows. Pike insists on helping with dishes tho.

#do it for the meme #I'm so bad at doing these in a timely manner #critical role #vox machina #perc'ahlia #vaxleth #pikelan #percival fredrickstein von musel de rolo iii #vex'ahlia #vax'ildan #keyleth #Pike trickfoot #scanlan shorthalt

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tiredkeys · 5 years ago

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Strider Bros with an s/o who’s very used to pain, but laughs it off

i have a request, if that's ok!! the strider bros with someone who's very used to pain and getting beat up and covered in bandaids/bandages daily?? but she laughs it off and no matter how hurt she gets, she's always so kind and trusting towards others and very physically affectionate. she acts pretty memey and breezy alot of times, but she will try and fight back if someone tries to hurt those she loves,,ahh sorry if this is too much, i kinda projected here,,,sorryy

Requested by anon

Oops this one is really long, I really enjoyed this and got a little carried away...

Requests are open!

Dave

Oh man

Oh man oh man

He got this exact same treatment from bro and he is devastated you have so many bandages on you all the time

Like? You both are out with some friends and someone twists their ankle

And you, at the speed of light, have some bandage out and their foot is fixed up in no time

On god, he almost starts crying on the spot because only boy scouts are supposed to know that and he knows you needed to know how to patch yourself up but you shouldn’t have needed to repair yourself so quickly and GOD

Honestly, he’s convinced you don’t have a right elbow because it always has a colorful bandaid on it

Speaking of bandaids, sometimes he’ll draw stars or hearts or just doodle on ones that cover paper cuts or that are wrapped around your fingers

He always asks first and he’s just so careful

When y’all first got together, you learned very quickly that he is NOT physically affectionate

He loves you so so much, and he hates it that his instinct is to flinch away when you brush up against him or go to hold his hand

It takes him quite a while, waiting for you to initiate and several sweaty palms that he doesn’t quite know what to do with, but when he does get comfortable showing affection around you? He’s so touchy

He’s not a huge fan of PDA (the cool kid facade is still strong) but in private, he just want cuddles and he wants them now

But he’s so so gentle, especially when you have new injuries

Often times, he will hold your arm and trace some older scars you have while y’all watch movies

And even when he accidentally puts too much pressure on a new cut, or his pointy elbows hit a soft spot, you’re smiling at him and cracking jokes while he apologizes for the next ten minutes

He’s baffled by you in the best way possible

He sees someone you care about being bullied for something and you are up and defending them SO FAST

It looks like you’re a hair’s breadth away from throwing punches

And he’s astounded

The change in you demeanor was so fast

And his first instinct is to be worried, then the bully leaves, and he’s still worried

But god he is so proud of you

I mean, he’s seen some of the bruises you have

But you just are so trusting and nice and soft towards others, you have no bitterness in your heart and he has no idea how you do it

Your constant vulnerability so revolutionary to him

One time, he accidentally walked in on you touching up your bandages

This beating was particularly bad, injuries stretching from just below your collarbone to around your ribs into your lower back

And he cannot move

He’s stuck in the doorway for a solid minute before you notice him

Shooting him your most convincing smile, some sluggish finger guns and a quick jipe you’re back to fixing yourself

“All these colors are really making me look like a piece of art, aren’t they?”

Oh my god he doesn’t know what to do

He just stands there until you’re done

“Who did this to you?”

Whether its a guardian, bully, or just a stranger, his heart still drops

He’ll make sure you are as comfortable as possible, in bed with snacks, drinks and a book or movie

He’ll crawl in next to you and pretend to be invested in whatever you are doing

But he’s crying

It’s hard to tell because he still has his shades on, and you don’t actually notice until you see him swiping at his face

You have to push his glasses up into his hair so he will look you in the eye

Y’all talk a lot that night

You wake in the morning and bathed in the sunlight and Dave wrapped around you like a blanket of protection

And you are safe

Dirk

I mean, he’s had his fair share of fighting robots so he’s pretty scared up right along with you

He’ll totally be up for comparing scars and stories about them

You got any you’re insecure about? He might not know how to comfort you but he will most definitely sit down with you and try and distract you

He sometimes forgets that you are as used to pain as he is and it's like a cold slap when you get hurt and shake it off

I mean, your pain tolerance is through the roof

You get hurt, say something like, oh this is nothing and he’s like so?? We are getting you patched up

And he will pick you up and will not let you move until you are fully bandaged, even if he knows you can do it yourself

On the flip side of that, when he gets busted up, he is always starstruck when you pull out the proper medical equipment and heal him up

Fixing up his twisted wrist, and he’s just staring at you because you’re just so gentle and caring with him, he feels so safe

Whenever he makes his own bandages and splints, he always ended up wrapping them up a little too tight, not enough to actually cut off blood flow, but enough that it was always more uncomfortable than it needed to be

Once, someone tried to pick a fight with him, and he just kinda squared up and went “ight i'm going to get decked this time”

And you BUST DOWN to DEFEND HIS HONOR and it's so scary

The offender? Flees so quickly at the sight of you, in a rage, and this anime character lookin dude, about to be in a rage because that kind of passion is contagious

But he’s so oblivious to your advances it isn’t even funny

He’s a little caught in his self-hate to even consider that you might be into him

Because what on Earth would you ever see in him?

Also, he is not a touchy person!!

He has -5 experience with physical contact and he will literally jump out of your arms he is so perturbed

You go into hug him one time and he zips off so fast and you don’t see him for quite a while

Did you move too fast? Did you hurt him?

Nope, he’s just cooling himself down

Despite his best efforts, he can not keep a cool face around you

Even when you’re gently punching his arm or touching his shoulder as you brush past, he will get so flustered so fast. There's just nothing he can do about it

One time, you cornered him about it

Not even flash stepping could save this fellow from your onslaught of questions

Does he hate you? You stopped your bigger physical affections long ago and while you know that he really doesn’t get a lot of that but would he like you to stop? It’s alright if he does, you’d just like some verbal confirmation. I mean, you really really like him and your love language is touch, but if he isn’t okay with it he isn’t okay! And if he doesn’t reciprocate your romantic sentiments towards you, it’s all alright! He shouldn’t feel pressured to do anything he doesn’t want and... Man, you’ve really gotten off track here. You’ve said far too much but you mean all of it. Is he okay?

Even with the added defenses of his tinted glasses and his rock-hard demeanor, you can see he’s shaking

This, to you, is not a good sign and you begin to backpedal like HELL

While you’re chattering away, he is going over his options in his head after it stopped yelling and the list looks like this:

You’re lying to him and this is a joke

You’re not lying, but would be miserable in a relationship with him

You’re not lying and both of you would put the effort into a relationship and it would be beautiful

He decides to take his chances

Grasping your wrists to effectively stop the word soup spewing out of you, he lets you know how he feels

He also really likes you, like… you know… but it terrifies him, just like you do! You’re always beat up and those weak excuses really won’t work much longer, and you care so much and that’s so scary, so breathtakingly scary, and you’re so funny and easy to talk to and he knows he’s not used to touching people, or just people at all, but if you'd like to teach him, that’d be okay. Someone has to watch your back, anyways.

And that’s the whole story right there, folks

Stay safe! Thank you for reading!

#homestuck x reader #dave strider #dave strider x reader #dirk strider #dirk strider x reader

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irresponsibility101 · 4 years ago

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a concept: korto vos (the kid of quinlan vos and therefore chaotic as fuck), ailyn vel (the kid of boba fett and therefore chaotic as fuck) and eeth koths unnamed daughter (who was probably actually pretty chill but ends up chaotic as fuck through diffusion) have fabulous adventures throughout the galaxy and experience Emotions™️.

ailyn has an arc where she gets over her anger at dear old dad, maybe because he gets offed right about now (not really but she doesn’t know that), eeth koths unnamed daughter (who probably got rescued from project harvester by quinlan and korto somewhere between the age of 10 and 14) gets an arc where she struggles with her anger and tries to figure out who her dad was before he got offed when she was all of 2 minutes old, and korto just has several consecutive existential crises about not being good enough compared to the other jedi and what the fuck happens now palpatine is gone he’s spent like half his life fighting him in some form and oh fuck is quinlan dead?

(he probably isn’t but who knows)

kothspawn maybe at one point has a casual discussion with Yoda completely unaware that he’s Yoda and just thinks that this weird glowing frog man is just that, a weird glowing frog man, and lets him give her random advice about being a jedi. this entire scenario can also work the exact same with eeth koth but his advice is a bit more grammatically correct and a bit less swamp soup focused and they bond and he reveals he’s her dad on the way out like ‘surprise lol it’s your dead dad’.

ailyn ends up bonding with rex through the family bonding experiences of stabbing bastards with pointy sharp things and initially neither of them have a clue who the other is because rex is old and ailyn is a brown copy of her mother (who in this verse went missing way earlier so boba and ailyn aren’t at the level of murder but definitely don’t get along all that well until both of them think the other one is dead and eventually she shows up on tatooine after the mandalorian season 2 and embraces her inner little shit) and then he casually makes a reference to being a clone after they’re done being awesome and she’s like wAIT A MINUTE

tldr: I want a bunch of emotionally stunted teenagers/young adults being forced to team up and being gay doing crimes around the time of the fall of the empire with the obligatory found family trope thrown in there.

#bonus points if ailyn flirts with all buff women they stumble across and yes i mean all of them that includes cara dune and fennec shand #she doesn’t do anything with fennec #cara however #that’s a different story #ailyn vel #korto vos #star wars #fic ideas #eeth koth’s daughter #Star Wars original trilogy #captain rex #ct-7567 #eeth koth #yoda #the fabulous adventures of ailyn vel korto vos and kothspawn #ka’ra koth

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goodlucktai · 5 years ago

Note

If you wouldn’t mind,, natsume being pretty in his houzuki costume (maybe with tanuma/r nishimura/ or someone)

Suzuki’s eyes are wide and glassy in a way that preludes tears. Nishimura, who is and always will be a sympathetic crier, straightens up from his slouch across Natsume’s desk in alarm.

“I’m so sorry!” their classmate wails, clutching handfuls of cheap, lilac-colored fabric. “I was fixing one of the hems at the breakfast table and my little brother poured soup all over it. It’s completely ruined.”

Her twin brother has a look of grim resignation on his face, obviously having dealt with this level of dramatics all morning. Tsuji moves in to begin damage control.

“Okay, well,” he says helpfully, “maybe it’s not so bad! Maybe we can–”

As soon as the Suzukis unfold the costume, Tsuji’s mouth clicks shut. What looks like a full serving of miso soup has stained the entire front panel. Their little brother couldn’t have done more damage even if he tried.

The silence stretches for a beat, maybe two. Suzuki’s eyes get even wetter.

And then Natsume surprises the hell out of the rest of them with a sigh. He rubs the back of his head, mouth twisting as if two parts of himself are at war with each other, before he finally surrenders, “I might have a solution.”

It’s a mark of how much he’s grown in the past two years that he doesn’t flinch away from the collective attention of the entire class when it lands on him a second later.

“Like, to get the stain out?” Tsuji asks.

“No, that’s hopeless,” Natsume says apologetically. Suzuki hangs her head. “I just meant, I might have something at home we can use to replace the costume.”

“Beats trying to sew another together before the play tomorrow,” Nishimura pipes up, always and forever on Team Natsume. He doesn’t even know what’s going on, really, but it doesn’t matter when Natsume slants him a grateful smile.

“Okay,” Tsuji says. “Let’s ask sensei if we can run by your place. Yes, Nishimura, you can come. Everyone else, run lines!”

It’s late afternoon by now, but the whole school is abuzz with last-minute festival prep. They pass Taki by chance on their way to the lounge and Nishimura slaps her an enthusiastic high-five without breaking stride. The teacher’s lounge is a beacon of peace and serenity in the storm of madness, and Nomiya-sensei slides open the door warily at Tsuji’s knock.

He was their homeroom teacher when they were first years, and he smiles at the familiar trio they make. Kurusu-sensei is on the phone, but through a game of charades they procure permission to leave campus, and Natsume texts Touko to let her know.

And that’s how, twenty minutes later, Nishimura finds himself in the kitchen with Touko and Tsuji and Nyanko-sensei, while Natsume reluctantly goes upstairs to put on the replacement costume. Touko insisted he model it for them, so she’d know if she needed to make any alterations before they whisked it away.

Nyanko’s ugly face is exceptionally smug-looking, and that should have been enough to tip Nishimura off that Something Was About To Happen.

As it is, he still inhaled iced tea and spent a fraught ten seconds coughing and hacking it out of his lungs while a distracted Tsuji thumped him half-heartedly on the back.

“Shut up,” Natsume snaps, his face bright pink. He looks– he’s dressed in–

“Takashi-kun, where on earth did you get this outfit?” Touko asks, hands folded in delight. “I’ve never seen it before.”

“A friend gave it to me,” he mutters. “I sort of… I was in a sort of festival a few years ago. I played the role of the Harvest God.”

“Some play,” says Tsuji, sounding very sorry he missed it.

Touko is already tugging at the collar of the costume and straightening the shoulders to make it lay flat. There’s an amused, affectionate smile on her face at the Natsume-typical shenanigans playing out in her kitchen. After a moment, Natsume tentatively glances at Nishimura as if to gauge his reaction, one bright brown eye and a sliver of his face all that’s visible from behind the antlered mask.

It’s the exact second Nishimura was waiting for; he snaps a picture with his cellphone.

“Nishimura!” Natsume howls. He rounds the table at a run, and Nishimura jumps out of his chair to put Tsuji bodily between them. “Oh, don’t you dare!”

“I have to show Tanuma!” Nishimura yells back, frantically texting. “I have to!”

There’s a whole lot of commotion at that point, Tsuji trying to extract himself, Nyanko-sensei yowling when he gets underfoot, Touko laughing airily, Natsume and Nishimura wrestling for the phone.

Natsume is bright with fury when he finds the picture successfully delivered to the group chat and a whole stream of excited texts pouring in even though everyone is supposed to be working on their class projects, and pins Nishimura with his most impressive glare.

It’s more impressive than usual, because he looks downright intimidating in this beautiful, delicate-looking dress up, like a creature melted off the page of a fairy tale, but it’s also not very impressive at all, because it’s Natsume.

So Nishimura offers him his brightest, get out of jail free card smile.

“Hey,” he says, “they’re all gonna see it tomorrow, anyway.”

“Yeah,“ Natsume grits out. “On Suzuki.”

But he can’t stay mad at Nishimura for very long. The standing record was a miserable eleven minutes back when they were fifteen, and Nishimura doesn’t even remember what that fight was about anymore. Sure enough, Natsume’s eyes soften after a minute and he hands the phone back.

“You’re the worst,” he says succinctly.

“I did you a favor. If Tanuma wasn’t in love with you before, he definitely is now.”

He’s chased out the door by a livid mountain god, but that’s just part of life these days. Besides, running is excellent cardio; since making friends with Natsume, Nishimura’s been in the best shape of his life.

#natsume yuujinchou #natsuyuu #nishimura satoru #natsume takashi #tsuji masayuki #my writing #prompt #anonymous #natsuyuu fic #this is just silly and i wrote it while im waiting to order food :')

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theurbansquared · 4 years ago

Text

Guide To Avoiding A Loser Brokerage

by James Hill | theurbansquared

Brokers can be bastards and some even get better at it while other brokers are legitimate life-changing business Sherpas

A broker is supposed to guide you through a career in real estate much like a coach or pimp - offering protection and how to understand a complicated system better and direct it to revenue without getting your neck broke while playing the game. I created and ran the most well-reviewed, largest full-service brokerage in the fastest-growing city in America. This gave me access to nearly ever broker and their broker's pay structure and innovations. I also got the agent's version of my same broker buddies brokerages when they eventually joined my brokerage; hovering anywhere from 20–60 agents. Trending insider chatter has blame going to real estate brokers of decades past (and current) and how they’ve managed their agents - - letting unsupervised agents with no experience run wild on the streets practicing on the public wearing out Realtor love and making a need for all the Mountain Dew-made Zillow-y options that currently exist.

Brokers are out of touch more than ever with today’s current media load, having to understand and use social media platforms for their advertising (since the private Town & Country affair that real estate once was is forever over and the landscape is a bit more like a half Juggalo, half programmer flea market).

Let’s dive into some situations and tenets that most agents don’t consider when choosing a brokerage.

Sales Volume

This is a bit of negotiating psychology and due diligence. Simply ask how much sales they (the brokerage) did last year and how much they’re currently at. If they don’t know these numbers they’re goons. If they don’t give it, you guessed it - they’re hiding something; their lack of revenue. I’ve hired and fired hundreds of agents and in interviews so few ask this question but it’s one of the most important questions you can ask as an agent and you need the information. An agent that doesn’t ask this has already given a tell that they’re not a top producer since they’re not interested in the production capacity of the team they may join. No bueno. Creep the brokerage as well obvi -- reviews, FB & IG engagement and current running ads, and make sure the company Christmas Party isn’t catered by Chic-fil-a at a Burnet Road dive bar.

Office

40% of your learning and 350% of your work will be done at the office. Those numbers will make sense 90% of the time after a few years in real estate. The rest should be on the streets - your car, properties, driving 75 mph talking and sending out docs, gorging on breath mints. Office, home, tiny homes, motorhomes have all blended into one larger conversation where work/live ethos are all in re-definition.

But, when you do need a more savvy moment in any market when people talk about borrowing or selling something that’s over $100K they don’t want to hear some bullshit too loud pedantic conversation seated right next to them at Starbucks or the local kooky coffee shop. In real estate Murphy’s Law is always in effect. The super important listing sign off that has to go well and they want to hear you pitch again before deciding? There will be someone (at this super ‘caj’ coffee house meeting) there projectile vomiting, or throwing cats, or something else tiresome or bad that takes more calls.

Speech and body language are massive parts of sales so when the entire set is thrown because a barista is running through a whole Sublime album. You want the most inviting cool office you can ever pull off at any given moment in real estate . Was that ever a question? There's a balance -- you can't afford that year one or three, but it’s called real estate for a reason. Sexy, exciting buildings is what the brochure said when I joined. Also, it’s about style not size.

If you haven’t lost business to coffee house back pressure you really haven’t failed at agency properly.

Social IQ

Social reach is the only conversation now. Many brokerages won’t make it as the lead generating aspects of the industry aren't powered by a private MLS anyone and the publicly-hated ‘Realtor’ designation have both brokers and agents guessing about tomorrow. Calendars, best practices and free shitty tips & templates are the du jour of the day for anyone trying to get an agent's eyes. You can Google and get all the ‘basic’ social media dance steps, but with everyone at the same happy hunting spot, you’re being covered up, which leaves all your new artistic efforts fruitless and also squandering winning time.

Traffic, leads and engagement are all separate areas that have to be fulfilled properly and even this is in flux with historic corporations and current start ups all on the same advertising playing field. Social reach and engagement is about going to the consumer direct and becoming their friend with soft bribes -- free food, gifts, prizes (trips, events tickets) or industry work tools. The great news is, real estate has always been mostly consumer direct - start up a convoy at the grocery store (bar, church, meetup) and you’re in the car that weekend looking for houses with a new client. While you, your brokerage and the world are figuring out their exact social media mix, you need to make sure a brokerage isn’t lost on social media since many won’t be able to stay in business in the next few short years. Your brokerage needs to have a plan and and at best some presence on social media. Plus, they should be running low-cost performative marketing ad campaigns to get a feel for what and if set user groups are responding to ads. Anyone can post on IG but people engage on IG when they become inspired. A brokerage should have some sort of inspiration and relationship tied in with the local allure of their city -- or heading that direction.

Mentoring

Much like a neurotic buyer chasing an interest rate for their home mortgage (and then never buying a house) agents too focused on commission may miss the essential career need for mentoring -- for their clients and career. I had a 5 deal minimum for my new agents before they were ever unsupervised and received more commission. I've had new agents with celeb clients in hand and celeb agents with no clients in hand. No one wants to do business with someone with absolutely has no, experience but they do it because they like you as a friend or fam. Your mentor is the person riding shotgun with you at the beginning of your career. On many levels you want to be this person since they embody the position and role. You're literally and figuratively are borrowing experience from them and they deserve to be paid for it. You always have to strengthen your brand outside of your brokerage but if you don’t have any experience your brand doesn’t have ‘strength’ you simply have a logo and a drag & drop website where you're possibly talking about yourself and love of unicorns or football shit but the big boat deals you dream about in bed aren’t gotten this way. Remember, no unicorn could ever throw a football good without a lot of practice and a good mentor.

Support

Support in a brokerage is really communication and solutions for small problems, and systems for managing bigger ones with people. Most of the annoying things in real estate happen outside of the deal - contracts, calls, emails, docs, signatures, more docs. You typically want a super admin, broker, or agent manager that you can call and they pick up the phone. It’s pretty simple. With a mentor, admin, or broker you’re going to have a n 8:30 PM question or deal that’s going down. You’ll need printer help. Real estate always happens now (this was one of the main mantras in my office). Printing, prequal, weekend support and constant post dinner shenanigans.

Training

Meet Frank Miller, David Mamet, the Sex Pistols, Tony Robbins, Wayne Dyer, Hendrix, Tom Hopkins, The World’s Greatest Detective and Conan The Barbarian. We had a lot of different inspirations for the style and ethos of our urban brokerage. The World’s Greatest Detective is Batman. It was a moniker that became popular in the seventies. We used this example about how important due diligence and proper Fact Finding techniques are for serving and closing deals for clients. (It’s almost essential to be inquisitive in real estate esp about property/development to have success). Training is largely your sales meeting(s). Although I don’t come from a car background I’ve mentored many car guys transferring to real estate (they typically are out of the industry within 2 years and are there only for boom markets). Car guys have meetings every morning 6 days a week and they’re not at 9 or 10 am. They’re already working.

free module: The Burger King Phenomena: Why Agents Do Less Working For Themselves Than If They Were Working At Burger King

Many brokerages have no training/meeting schedule (monthly doesn’t count -- that’s a meet and greet company pump and catch up meeting). If a brokerage doesn’t have training on a schedule then there is no training. You’ll possibly be thrown a 3-ring binder, or given some PDF’s, or links to old bizarre training videos or a soup sandwich of all three and sometimes even a bill for the training. An agent’s training/meetings and their attendance to them are the difference between an agent making it or not when you’re 24 months or less in the role as an agent especially in the fast turbulent waters of the current 2021 market where brokerage and agent purpose and pay are under attack. From my experience, new agents that hide die.

Media

Having a background as a creative director I’m aware with great detail of agency and brokerage media needs, the cost and time they extract, and the corresponding revenue they’re projected to bring back. Brokerages are looking for their purpose now as simply having a brokerage doesn’t bring in leads like it used to. This is fitting, since the digital dumbass brokers that that didn’t understand the importance of ‘the web’ rickshawed our MLS data and sold the agent/broker centric real estate system for their benefit while current agents are left with an empty greasy enough to-go box to curl up with. Brokerages were never media houses or ad agencies but now that consumer level graphic programs and website builders are ubiquitous and any agent after being licensed for 10 days can drag & drop a website up in 4 hours and make it look like a brokerage that’s been around for years. I know I’m going wide on the subject here but stay with me because this is the crux of where the industry and consumer are renegotiating roles.

A brokerage’s value proposition has changed drastically with the telecommute revolution that was only sped and strengthened by Covid. Also, generational knowledge base gaps in technology are more apparent than ever with technology as younger agents can often be more media savvy than their broker. The market is flooded with self appointed companies or gurus that are taking on the role of the classic ad agency (Mad Men) or media production house. Also beware of real estate coaches with little or no real estate experience offering to guide you in social media. Okay media can’t be used in apex situations (such as the luxury listings you’re after) and doesn’t draw apex listings. Beware of tapioca room temperature tips and general lists from companies that can appear informative but are really boilerplate low grade data to get your attention to ultimately upsell you on a paid service.

As an agent or a brokerage, consumer level graphic and website building programs can be a death ticket to your business as your competitors have the same tools and are cranking out the same type of style of messaging you are now. Now agents, principals, admins and in art class creating flyers. This has been done since the nineties as the valleys of dead agent careers is full of 2-day Microsoft Word (or any of their shitty office offerings) seshes to produce nasty flyers and presentations. These programs are fun and making bad flyers absolutely work related - the kind of work you don’t want’ related to your business because it’s adult crayon coloring. Activity does not equal production. Staying busy doing the wrong things doesn’t make money in real estate. Rather than spending agent winning time staying in the wrong lanes for way too long, get with a team or brokerage that are providing the most exceptional visual media you can find in your market. It used to be cool 2 years ago, now it’s the only thing that matters. Visual content.

free module: Better Agent Media, Less Agent Money (media tips and hacks).

Access

This is access to your broker. Brokers with families are typically less available. Your best bet as an agent is looking for a grinder broker who sleeps on the couch at their office. This person doesn’t have kids to build into so they’ll build into your career and you’ll get the most out of these brokers. Beware of cheesedick, apathetic, rich boy, bored brokers not around and more concerned with projects like a shitty vanity wine brand that their wife’s forced them to launch since she’s not living her best life anymore as an agent.

Style

What kind of style is your brokerage? Is there an opportunity to bring more style sophistication to the market -- standout in a smaller market? Or, are you in an ultra stylish market currently and butt hurt because you already have a little story about how you’re going to keep it real and be a Dockers wearing slob for eternity? The thing about style in agency is you always need to look like you can list a million dollar house. Oh, is it really that simple? Yes it is. You complicated it. Clients always care about their housing a little bit more than they care about your real estate career. They don’t have time to figure out why you’re wearing shoe styles from 7 years ago. Don’t make it hard for people to do business with you. If you’re ugly, even better. It can be a massive advantage. Everyone on the planet loves when someone who doesn’t fall into our general current ‘attractive’ spectrum doesn’t give af, looks great and puts themselves together in a stylish way that the viewer can understand (can I get away with Teen Wolf?). A great side benefit from this step in the right direction is it’s a great way to make someone who is conventionally attractive insecure.

You want to be in the same style as the people in your area but the secret is you need to lead that style pack if you can -- you always lead and dress apex. Years ago this was anecdotal but after over 100K hours in real estate a good suite (tailored) saved my ass and literally got me business. I listed the largest house in east Austin because of a suit (and got a front page story on the newspaper real estate section for free because the owner saw me walking into the next door neighbor’s house).

Offices, dress, logo, email signature are all elements of you and your brokerage’s style. Style in and of itself isn’t enough to be a top producer in real estate. I’ve had stylish and even celebrity agents that didn't do zilch, but style often is a fingerprint to something more.

Picking the right elements for your agent style is an art because you have to offer something from yourself that’s unique enough as well as something familiar (a bridge to your uniqueness). I have a background as a musician and also as a merchant sailor. Fortunately those are easy convo starters. You could be a philatelist and have some challenges, but regardless it absolutely will take a year or three to develop your own angle and style towards the market as you learn it and the agent role more.

Things that look attractive and familiar puts client’s psychologies at ease. So, if skinny jeans are in you better get in them (that’s like five years old now). You’re on stage. You don’t wear what the worker people behind the camera wear. If you want to wear boring shit get on the other side of the camera. If you want less leads saddle up to a forgettable brokerage. People have hard days. They want you to put an effort into your real estate agency role. Currently it’s a fried role so you’re dealing with that too. People love to be smiled at and sold and especially from someone who smells good. It doesn't ever get old. Don’t make them beg for your charm. Be a nice charming person with a shirt that fits good, it’s a powerful combo.

Get My Damn Paper

If you’ve never seen a werewolf in daylight mess with an agent’s commission after the deal’s done and funded. Admin? Who is the damn person who does the admin? (accounts payable is the icey pro word if you like). That person that you contact to get your commission check cut? If that person is a weirdo, or there’s an unfriendly or sketchy quality to the office or admin staff, do not go forward (don’t confuse this with new people or industry jitters). Grab some free coffee, leave the smarm and jet to the next brokerage blind date.

Software

CRM is an annoying conversation. Here’s the things with CRM’s - for all the work CRMs curtail, because of their complexity and existence and the work(time) they take to interact with you need to consider how much work you’re putting into operating the CRM software verses how much time it’s saving. Many times brokerages have expensive yearly subscriptions with per agent fees for their CRM which can make the brokerage have a zealot meth thing for the ‘team’ software and promise you can’t have a career without taking a bump too. To understand CRM better before it was a name, Client Relationship Management is what analog Proximity became. Let me explain - being close to people in Church, bar, school, same building -- all give proximity. This becomes familiarity, then ease, then trust. People do business with people they trust & like. Once people disconnected physically and started using other means more contact attempts have to be made to work for or ‘prove’ worth.

Follow Up is a large component of most CRM’s and there are gobs of money for agents who follow up meticulously. Simply ask the broker what CRM they use and research it. Something to remember - unless you’re extremely busy with your career you don’t need a CRM. You can manage & database your clients & leads ‘by hand’ and strap it to the cloud with G-Suite/Google Sheets.

Brokerage Name

A small but important aside, if a brokerage have named themselves after a precious metal or a gem, or if it says elite in the name then it’s not elite. If it has the words prestige or worldwide or international it may not be any of those either. I know a handful of exceptions to this rule but this is a great dirty primer to use when choosing a brokerage that’s going to propel your career and have shrimp options at the Christmas Party.

#agent #realtor #realestateagent #broker #brokerage #newhomebuyer #coach #businesscoach #entrepreneurs #new agent #zillow

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poc-movie-supremacy · 4 years ago

Text

Merry Christmas

On one very Merry Christmas, disaster strikes the Lim-Ilnyckyj family. Will everything be okay or will it be deadly Christmas for all???

------

Steven hates eggnog. He hates that it’s only sold on Christmas. He hates that he always forgets to buy more of it. He hates that he made Andrew go get some on that Christmas night.

Yesterday night…

Steven loves Christmas. He loved it when he was a kid and he loved it now. He loved the Christmas music, and the twinkling lights, and the constant buzz of happiness. It’s become even more special now that he has Andrew and Sunny and Mark.

“Do you have everything you need for the party tomorrow, baby?”

Steven surveyed the kitchen. “I think we should. Do you wanna get started on the dumplings?”

Andrew nodded and started getting out all the ingredients. “Sure are you going to start the banana bread?”

“Yup.” Steven maneuvered around Andrew as he got out his ingredients. They worked together in the kitchen seamlessly to produce a Christmas feast. Tomorrow in the late afternoon, they were hosting a large Christmas dinner with all of their friends and family. Considering who was coming they were planning on making a large meal.

“The ham is going to be ready for pick up tomorrow right?”

“Last time I checked honey.” Steven had on a Hanukkah sweater under his apron. It was a gift from Zach a few years ago. He also had an elf hat that Adam gave him and a discrete hickey from Andrew. Didn’t need the kids seeing that.

As they cooked, those same kids sat on the couch watching Christmas movies. Currently they were enthralled by Disney’s A Christmas Carol. The lights from the Christmas tree blinked lazily at them. It painted the kids in a warm glow. The smells of cooking food and scented candles wafted around the house. The adults kept a half an eye on them as they worked in the kitchen.

As Steven stirred the banana bread mix, he felt a slight tug on his pant leg. Looking down he saw his baby boy holding on to his leg. “Hey Markie, what’s up?”

Steven knelt down so he could hear his son better. “Baba, are ghosts real?” Steven almost fell over laughing. It was making his son agitated but he couldn’t stop. Sunny and Andrew started to look at them curiously.

Before Mark could start crying Steven squeezed his hand. “Buddy, hey, Buddy I’m sorry. You know what, when your Uncle Shane and Ryan come over tomorrow you ask them ok? They know more about this than I do.”

“Oh God, Ghosts.” Andrew groaned into his hands. He looked almost comical in his zany red Christmas sweater and Mickey Santa hat that Ryan got him a few years ago. Their poor kids look very confused at their parents. Steven almost fell down from laughing too hard.

“Do you think when they finally started dating Shane would intentionally scare Ryan so that Ryan would go to him for comfort?” Andrew wondered. The red Christmas light fell on his profile, emphasizing his strong jawline and beard. It made Steven’s heart happy to look at. It was also hilarious sine he looked like a giant red man from where Steven was crouching on the floor.

“Oh most definitely. I had to help him sometimes.” Steven rolled his eyes exasperatedly while Andrew chuckled.

"Anyways, you kids wanna make Christmas cookies after me papa are done?” Steven asked. Papa and Baba’s cookies were a special treat for the Lim-Ilnyckyj kids. They enthusiastically took any chance of making them with their father’s as they could.

“Ok watch a few more movies while Papa and I finish cooking, alright?” They nodded and went back into the living room. Frosty the Snowman and It’s Christmas Charlie Brown played through before Steven and Andrew were ready for them. Sunny and Mark rushed into the kitchen eagerly, happy to bake with their parents. It got a little messy, but they had fun. Andrew had flour in his hair and icing was everywhere. After that adventure, Steven and Andrew wrangled their kids to bed. Then they cleaned up the house to make it more presentable.

Half-way through the clock struck midnight. Steven was busy fixing the mistletoe so he missed Andrew coming up behind him. He squeaked when he felt Andrew wrap his arms around him. “Merry Christmas, Baby.” Andrew reached up to press a quick kiss to Steven’s lips.

Just as quickly he pulled away leaving Steven a giggly mess. He playfully swatted Andrew on the shoulder before getting back to work. “Merry Christmas to you too, Honey.”

Christmas Day for the Lim-Ilnyckyj household was chaotic. Sunny woke up Mark and together they woke up their parents. They were found sleeping back to back holding hands. They did not go to bed like that. It made Sunny and Mark laugh as they bounced on the bed. Their giggling is what actually woke up the two parents. Andrew gave Mark a bear hug while Steven tickled Sunny senseless. When they finally escaped their parents hold, the kids pulled their parents to the Christmas Tree.

“Don’t forget we’re going to Mass at noon. Then everyone’s coming over at 3. Can you get me some matcha honey?” Steven asked.

“Sure.” Andrew stood up from the couch to go get some coffee in the kitchen. Light streamed in from the open windows onto the children. It made them almost glow in the morning light.

Steven peacefully watched the kids divide up the presents. Mark got some nice lego’s and a coloring book while Sunny got a kid-safe detective and chemistry kit. They got a few other gifts but this was their favorite. Andrew came back with two cups of matcha, one for Steven and one for himself. Steven smiled happily and kissed his husband’s cheek in thanks. They hadn’t been planning on opening their gifts, but Sunny and Mark insisted.

Steven’s gift was an art project and a Ratatouille stuffed animal. Sunny and Mark smiled eagerly at him. “Uncle Adam helped us pick it out! Do you like it Baba?”

Steven pulled his kids into a hug. “I love it so much.”

“Your turn papa.” Mark handed his father one of his presents from Sunny and Mark. It was another art project and a stuffed animal of a cat possibly from the Aristocats.

Andrew squeezed the cat close to his chest. “You guys, this is great.”

“You like it?” The kids asked him excitedly.

“I love it. And I’ll open the rest of the gifts after I get the ham. Ham is the last thing we need right?”

“It should be..” Steven said. It wasn’t.

“Ok, let’s eat some breakfast, I’ll get the ham then we’ll go to Mass. Sounds good?” The kids nodded distractedly. Steven made them special christmas waffles (which were like regular waffles with a lot of sweets in them).

“You’re going to give them a sugar rush,” Andrew said.

“Yeah and they’ll crash during mass.”

Andrew smiled sneakily at his husband. “You're so smart.

Steven shrugged with faux humility, “I try.”

The kids did in fact crash half-way through Mass. Steven and Andrew had to carry them the rest of the celebration. All the Church goers cooed as they passed. At home, Steven and Andrew let the kids sleep as they made sure the house was ready for the party. The wrappers were all thrown away and the Christmas lights were turned on. The food was arranged artfully around the kitchen table. At 2:20 the children were woken up and cleaned up for the party.

The first people to show up were Uncle Ryan and Uncle Shane. Their three kids, Sherry Linda and Benny stood behind them carrying gifts. After hugging Ryan and shane, Steven graciously took the gifts from his nieces and nephews. Mark ran up to Ryan’s leg and pulled him down. “Uncle Ryan, Uncle Ryan, Baba told me I could ask you a question.”

“What’s up slugger?”

“Are Ghosts real?” Mark whispered.

Ryan immediately started wheezing while Shane groaned. Mark looked around very confused. His dads had the exact same reaction. At the same time Ryan told him yes, Shane shook his head no. An argument ensued to Mark’s utter confusion. Linda rolled her eyes, took her cousin by the hand and pulled him away.

“Ignore my dads. They can’t agree on this.” Sherry, her younger brother Benny and cousin Sunny and followed Linda and Mark. They made their way to the play room away from the bickering adults.

“If you ask me,” Sherry started, “I think they are.” Benny nodded too. He was three so there was a 60/40 chance he was just agreeing because his older sister said it, but none of them commented on it.

More guests started to arrive, The Fulmers, the Habersburgers, Cool Uncle Adam. The kids all went to play upstairs while the grownups stayed downstairs to talk.

Christmas music rang throughout the house as Christmas lights twinkled around them. The cookies and eggnog were a big hit, especially after someone spiked it. Steven didn’t account for this and sadly they ran out of eggnog quicker than he planned. “Do you want me to get more?” Andrew whispered in Steven’s ear. He had seen Steven start to play with the hem of his shirt, a tell-tale sign he was agitated.

Steven played with the hem of his shirt more and almost started to bite his lip. Internally he was having a debate with himself. “Are you sure? You don’t mind?” Steven whispered.

“No it’s ok. The trip would be quick.”

“Want me to go with you?”

“Nah stay home. I think Bergara’s going to do something to my clothes, I want you to stay guard.”

“Yes sir.” Steven smiled and kissed his husband on the cheek. Silently Andrew left the party to get some eggnog. Annie saw this and quirked an eyebrow.

Steven answered her silent question. “It’s all good.” No it wasn’t “He’s just getting some eggnog.” He wanted to get some eggnog.

Annie nodded slowly like she was debating on what to say next. “The roads are slippery. I hope he’s careful.”

The thought made Steven nervous, but nothing bad could happen right? It was Christmas Day so he decided to trust in God and believe that Andrew would be alright. Steven nodded at Annie and steered the conversation towards studio ghibli.

-_- -_- -_-

It takes half an hour to get from the grocery store and back to the house. Steven knows after all the times one kid has gotten sick and he had to rush to the store for soup. It had been 20 minutes so far. Steven wasn’t too worried. He went to the kitchen to get more cinnamon rolls where he caught Ryan staring out at the snow.

“Snowstorm. Must be blue moon today,” Ryan whispered when he noticed Steven beside him. “First time I’ve ever had to bundle up like I do visiting Shane’s family in California. Kids were ecstatic though.”

Steven snorted softly. “I can imagine, Cali boy.”

Ryan fondly rolled his eyes, “That was an awful nickname and you know it. By the way, where did Andrew go? I haven’t seen him in a while.”

Before Steven could answer, his phone rang. Excusing himself, he answered and started to walk away. He made it four paces before he felt his heart shatter.

-_- -_- -_-

Steven was stock still in the middle of the kitchen. He wasn’t moving. Ryan called out to him, but he wasn’t responding. Hesitantly, Ryan walked over to Steven. His breaths were shallow and his eyes looked bloodshot. Carefully Ryan took the phone out of Steven’s hand.

“Hi, my name’s Ryan Bergara, I’m… Steven’s relative, what seems to be the problem?”

“Mr. Bergara, as I was just telling Mr. Lim, Mr. Andrew Ilnyckyj has been in a car accident. He’s in St. Luke’s hospital on 5th and 9th.” The operator had a sympathetic voice, probably picking up on how much Andrew means to Steven. Ryan took a deep breathe in an attempt to steel his nerves. He couldn’t break down, not yet, not until this whole mess was sorted out. Someone had to be strong for Steven.

“Oh, um thank you, Steven and I’ll be there as soon as we can. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas Mr. Bergara. I hope your friend turns out okay.”

“I hope so too.” Ryan hung up and pocketed the phone. He turned towards Steven who was still stock-still and crying. “Hey man, I need you to breath. He’s going to be okay. Shane and I’ll drive you to the hospital, the rest can stay back and watch the kids.”

“The kids… you can’t tell them just yet. You can’t. It’s Christmas Ryan. Wait, wait until tomorrow.”

“Ok, ok I promise. Wait right here. I’m going to go tell the grown ups and get Shane.”

As he was about to leave, Steven reached out and tightly gripped Ryan’s arm. “Don’t, don’t leave.”

Ryan paused and took a deep breath .”Ok, slim lim, come with me.” Slowly Ryan tugged Steven back to the living room. To get everyone’s attention Ryan made one sharp whistle.

Everyone turned to look at them and concern colored their faces when they saw Steven’s tear stained face. Before they could speak Ryan’s voice wobbled out, “Uhh, Steven just got a call from the hospital,” Annie held a hand over her mouth, “Andrew’s been in a car accident. Shane and I are going to take him there, but we need someone to stay behind to watch the kids. It’s Christmas. I don’t want them there quite yet.”

Shane walked up to stand on Steven’s otherside. He wrapped an arm around Steven’s shoulders and rubbed in an effort to calm him down.

“We can stay with the kids,” Katie offered. She sent a sympathetic look towards Steven that went unnoticed. The others offered to clean up before either going to the hospital or going home.

Ryan and Shane ushed Steven into the car and drove as quick as they lawfully could to the hospital. When they came to a stop in front of the hospital, Steven jumped out and made his way to Andrew’s room. They watched him go silently, sadly. Before they joined him they parked.

-_- -_- -_-

Steven ran down the hallways as fast as he could. Christmas music played softly through the halls, but it doesn’t have the same soothing effect anymore. It started to become more threatening as it played in his mind over and over. You better watch out. You better watch out. YOU BETTER WATCH OUT you better not cry, you better watch out I’m telling you why…

It made him sick. His anxiety increased two-fold. The washed out hallways seemed to stretch on forever. It was freezing to the bones in there. For every step Steven took, the hallway added another foot of length.

401… 402… 403.

Steven felt like he was running on borrowed air. Like when he got that phone call Satan stole his breath and wouldn’t give it back to him. He didn’t stop running though, he would run as quickly as he could to get to him.

Finally, finally after his ugly christmas sweater was starting to choke him, finally after his tears were starting to stream down his cheeks, he made it to him.

Andrew was lying unconscious in his hospital bed. There was a long scar over his left eye and a bruise on his left forearm. Steven almost fell over at the sight of it. Yet he pulled himself together and staggered to Andrew’s bedside. Tightly he grabbed one of Andrew’s hands as he willed himself to stay strong, stoic.

The hospital room was cold and unfeeling. It smelled of antiseptic and medicine. Steven hated it. He hated that he was here, he hated that he was the okay one. Steven, Steven burned with anger. But anger doesn’t last long, especially for Steven who quickly goes from murderous to deep tragic sadness. It makes his knees weak.

He pulls up a chair so he could fall into it. While still holding his hands, he rests his forehead onto Andrew’s stomach and let the tears fall. At first it’s singular droplets but then it becomes heaving sobs. All the pent up energy he feels is released through the tears. He’s relieved the kids aren’t here to see either of their parent’s like this. They’re too young.

He hears Ryan and Shane approach but he pays them no mind. All he’s aware of is Andrew’s soft breathing and the beep of the heart monitor. The sound is both a blessing and a curse. As much as he hates the incessant beeping, he’d take it over its silence any day. The boys walk over to Steven, Ryan on his left and Shane on his right.

Shane’s quiet as Ryan speaks. “The nurse says there was some internal bleeding, and he has a few broken ribs. The roads were a little slippery the other car couldn’t break fast enough to avoid collision. She checked your insurance. They’re going to send in robots to fix up the bleeding. Thank God we updated the healthcare on time.” Ryan tried to joke to alleviate the dour mood. It didn’t work that well.

Steven tightened his hold on Andrew’s fingers. Jaggedly, he nodded his head. Shane placed a hand on top of his shoulder. “Hey man ease up. Don’t break his fingers.” Steven wanted to hold onto his husband’s hands like a lifeline, but he knew Shane was right. Instead he grabbed one of Shane’s hands and one of Ryan’s. No one spoke as they quietly watch Andrew sleep.

When the nurses had to take Andrew into surgery, Steven let them lead him back to the waiting room. The lights were bright in an awful way, harsh on his eyes. They sat together on one of the uncomfortable hospital chairs. No one spoke, unsure of what to say. Steven played with the hem of his Christmas sweater and prayed the rosary over and over internally.

Later on in the night, Adam, Annie, Rie, and Niki came over to sit with them. Unless it was to offer Steven a comforting word no one spoke. They all waited apprehensively for an update on Andrew’s situation. Annie wrapped her arms around Steven who curled into her.

“I’m sorry I jinxed it.” Her voice was whisper-soft and shaky, like she was about to cry but didn’t want to.

“You didn’t do anything wrong. Just more evidence that you might be a little more magical than we thought.” Steven tried to humor her. Annie just held him tighter and kissed his forehead.

“I’m magical as fuck and I’ll use my powers to make Andrew come out the surgery room brand new,” Annie declared confidently. Despite himself, Steven smiled.

-_- -_- -_-

Andrew’s surgery lasted a few hours. Ryan shot a text to Katie that Andrew would be staying overnight and Steven would too. Katie offered to stay the rest of the night with them, but Adam refused. He drove back to keep an eye on the kids while Katie and her husband went home. She gave him a sympathetic smile and made Ryan swear that he would update them on Andrew’s situation. After that they sent Steven one last sympathy text before heading home.

Luckily the surgery went smoothly. He’d wake up from the anaesthetics in a few hours. Since only one person could wait for him in the hospital room everyone stayed in the waiting room. Steven went to visit Andrew alone. He pulled up a hospital chair and fiddled with the hem of his sweater as he prayed.

Half-way through the night, Ryan and Shane had to go back home to pick up the kids and put them to bed. Annie stayed with Steven the whole night. She went with him to see Andrew before having to go back home. Well into the morning, once the kids were awake and ready, Adam took Sunny and Mark back to the hospital to wait for Andrew and Steven. They were quiet and still for once chock full with worry. Adam tried his best to distract them. He played youtube videos, read to them, and let them play games on his phone. Nothing seemed to work however. The only thing the kids wanted was their father.

They looked up when a nurse called Adam’s name. They got up together, one kid holding one of his hands. The nurse gave him a pleased, tired smile. “Everything went well, so well in fact that you all can visit him.”

“We can visit Papa!” Sunny squealed excitedly. It made the nurse laugh.

“Yeah, your father’s waiting for you.” Sunny would’ve sprinted off if it weren’t for Adam. He quietly thanked the nurse before turning his attention back to the squirming kids.

“We walk together, no running off. We can’t run into anyone.” The kids sullenly agreed with Adam. Together they walked towards Andrew’s hospital room. He didn’t let go of the hyper kids until they crossed the threshold. Sunlight light up Andrew’s hospital room. There were some flowers and candy lying on the side table. Steven and Andrew had matching red rimmed eyes as they held hands. Big Smiles shone on their faces when they saw their kids. Before the kids could pounce on Andrew’s torso Steven scooped them up onto his lap.

“Hey, hey, before you shower your papa with all the love in the world, we got to go over a few ground rules.” Steven waited until he had his kids attention. “Your father’s chest and stomach is very sore so you can’t put any pressure on it. That means so sitting on it, no tight hugs, no leaning against it. Ok?”

Both kids nodded solemnly before Steven let them onto Andrew’s hospital bed. Mark sat on his left while Sunny carefully climbed over him. When they started talking they also started crying and they did this on top of each other. Adam went to stand silently behind Steven. No one could fully understand what the kids were saying. It was something between, don’t go, I’m scared and it was confusing. Andrew let them cry it all out. He rubbed Mark’s arm up and down as he tried to thumb away Sunny’s tears (in vain). Gingerly he let the kids lay on him, wanting to be just as close to them as they needed to be to him.

“I’m going to be ok guys, I promise. Papa just got in a little tumble.” The kids didn’t really believe him, he did have a scar on his face after all. They did always like the rumble of his chest when he talked though, so they just quietly listened. Andrew told them a story about one of his Christmases as a boy. It was long enough to have them fall asleep by the end of it. Andrew kissed them on the forehead before turning towards Adam and Steven.

“They fell asleep quickly. What did I miss from the 24 hours or so?”

“Nothing much. After Steven got the call, half of us went to the hospital while the other half stayed behind to clean up the house and watch the kids. They’ve had some trouble sleeping. Very worried for you.” Adam informed him. Absentmindedly Andrew tightened his hold on his kids even if it pained him.

“Merry Christmas to us,” Steven quipped sarcastically.

Andrew snorted. “Hey, I turned out fine. Little banged up but I’m ok.”

Steven carefully squeezed his upper elbow. “You better be. I didn’t want to tell the kids that pops went out for milk and never came home.”

Andrew and Adam laughed out loud. “I promise baby, I’m not going anywhere.”

#standrew #shyan #ella's worth it fics #we're all fic writers here #I coined mark from the bible #sunny cause Steven was like sunshine personified so obviously his kid would be too #and sherry and linda since they are shane and ryan's respective mom's #ella's unsolved fics

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