#and plenty of them are optimistic and hopeful

[moonstruckme]

Heyyy! So I'm obsessed with your writing! Your EMT series might be my favourite thing I've ever read.

I was wondering if I could request an EMT Marauders x reader story where she gets really sick but thinks it's nothing and downplays it to them, only for it to end up being Pneumonia or something. And maybe they feel guilty for not realising it sooner?

I know you've probably already written something similar to this so no worries if you don't feel like writing it but I'd love to see your take it if you decide. Hurt/comfort is my favourite trope in the world. I just can't get enough of it!

I hope you're doing well!

Thanks gorgeous, hope you're doing well too <3

cw: pneumonia

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

You make sure there’s plenty of honey in your tea when the boys get home. 

“Hi,” you greet them, pleased when your voice comes out semi-normal. 

“Hey, gorgeous.” Sirius flops onto the sofa, nearly on top of your curled-up legs. “How was your day?” 

You try to keep your answer brief, your cough plied into submission with honey and warm tea but not for long. “Good. Got some things done.” 

You don’t mention that after every one of those things you’d had to have a thirty-minute lie down, or that many of them involved disinfecting surfaces you’d accidentally coughed near. 

“Being sick isn’t an opportunity to get things done.” Remus sinks into his chair, leveling you with a reprimanding look. “You’re supposed to be resting.” 

You shrug. “The only reason I haven’t been at work is because—” A couple of coughs fight their way out of you. James’ expression pinches as he sits on the arm of Remus’ chair, but thankfully the fit passes quickly. You take another sip of your tea. “Because I don’t want to pass it to anyone. I think I have to go back tomorrow, though.” 

Sirius makes a soft tsking sound. The boys are all still in uniform, his tattoos peeking out from the short sleeves as he traces looping circles on the side of your knee. “But you’re not better yet.” 

“Yeah, but I’m running out of sick days.” 

James frowns. “How long has it been?” 

You bring your tea to your lips, avoiding meeting anyone’s eyes. “I’ve been out for a week.” 

“But you were sick for a while before that,” he says. “What is that, ten days? Eleven?”

You shrug. 

Sirius is looking up at you with a puckered brow. “Do you feel like you’re getting better?” 

“I think so,” you say optimistically. It’s quickly undermined, however, when you’re caught up in another coughing fit. You have to set your tea down to keep from spilling it, holding a tissue over your mouth. 

James’ eyes widen, and Sirius sits up to rub your back. 

“That doesn’t sound very good,” James says. 

“No,” Sirius agrees. He reaches to feel your face, but you brush him away. 

“Don’t-—ack—don’t get too close. I don’t want to get you sick.” 

“I’m not gonna get sick, you baby.” He pushes past your hands. “Let me do my job.” 

“You just got off work.” 

“Yeah, well,” his voice softens, taking on a sympathetic hum as he lays his palm flat to your hairline, “maybe I maybe I was talking about my boyfriend job.” A pause. “I think your fever’s gotten worse, my love.” 

You whine. “Really?” 

“‘Fraid so. Have you noticed your symptoms getting worse at all?”

“I don’t” —you cough and reach for your tea again— “think so.” 

“Dove,” Remus says warningly. 

“It’s hard to tell,” you admit. “It’s moved around.” 

“Like where, honey?” James asks. 

“Like, in my…” You feel your throat contract, another fit brewing. You touch a hand to your sternum to avoid speaking. 

“In your chest?” Remus infers. 

You nod. 

He hums and moves to sit on the coffee table, his knees touching yours. You try to warn him away, but Remus shushes you gently. “Let me look at you.” 

He brings one hand to your face, feeling the way Sirius had, and touches the other to the pulse point on your neck. His touch is gentle and cool against your warm skin. You don’t know what exactly he’s looking for, but you find yourself fighting the urge to fall asleep in the basin of his palm when it slips down to hold your cheek. 

“You don’t need to talk,” says James, “but just nod yes or no, okay? Have you noticed yourself feeling more tired lately?” 

You nod tentatively. 

“Yeah? Less appetite?” 

You frown. “I don’t think—” You’re cut off by your own hacking. 

“One week off work, and she completely forgets how to follow instructions,” Sirius teases, rubbing your leg. 

“Terrible patient,” James agrees. 

“Alright,” Remus says once your fit ebbs. “I don’t have a stethoscope, but can you turn sideways for me?” 

You do, confused. Remus puts his ear to your back. You must make an odd face, because Sirius grins at you, reaching over to pinch your chin affectionately. 

“Take a deep breath,” Remus instructs. 

You try, but it doesn’t get far. Your lungs expand maybe halfway before you’re coughing again, horrible, wracking coughs punctuated by stabbing pains in your chest. Remus sits up after a few moments, rubbing your back. 

“Sorry,” you manage. 

“Why are you sorry?” Sirius pulls you into him, cradling your head to his chest. “That sounded like it hurt, huh?” 

“Yeah,” Remus answers for you, brows bent with sympathy. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. At least now we can get you some medicine, though.” 

You cough weakly. “You can?” 

“Sounds like pneumonia?” James asks Remus. Your boyfriend nods. 

Sirius coos, petting your head. “I’m sorry, baby. I was thinking it was just a cold.” 

“It’s not your fault,” you croak. “I was, too.” 

“Feels like we ought to have known the difference, though,” James admits. When Sirius gets up, he’s quick to take his spot, tucking you underneath an arm. 

“Where are you going?” you ask Sirius. 

He’s putting his shoes back on. “To get someone to write you a prescription. The sooner we get you on antibiotics, the better. It’ll give you something to show your boss, too.” 

“I don’t need to come with you?” you ask hopefully. 

He winks, grabbing his keys. “Perks of knowing people at the hospital.” 

“Perks of flirting with the doctors, he means,” Remus mutters after he’s gone. 

“Hey,” James laughs, giving his boyfriend’s knee a playful squeeze, “it works out for us, doesn’t it?” 

“Sometimes,” Remus allows. He fixes his gaze on you. “Anything we can do to help you feel better, sweetheart? Do you want to try a hot bath? Steam would be good for you.” 

You look down into your now cool mug. “Could I have some more tea?” 

He takes it from you with a kiss to your head. “What a silly question.”

[mythalism]

i think what people need to understand is that no amount of essays assuring me of veilguard's strengths, of which i agree there are plenty, is going to change the fact that the emotional experience veilguard prompted within me (and for many others) while i played it was a deeply negative one. discomfort at best, painful at worst. im talking stomach aches. visceral, somatic creeping disappointment and dread that i tried to fight for hours and hours but eventually had no choice but to accept. i stopped wanting to play entirely around 30 hours. i felt vaguely ill. i felt anxious. i could not sleep for a few days. and im not saying i felt sick because it was so bad, but that i felt sick because of the sinking realization that i was about to be terribly, horribly disappointed after so, so long. you could call me dramatic and im sure someone will. idk what to tell you. my emotions manifest physically long before they become decipherable or understandable to me mentally, especially when they're 10 years in the making. probably an autism symptom. regardless, it was genuinely pretty awful, especially because i had immense good faith for this game. i was so hopeful and optimistic and generally thrilled and literally anyone who followed me before october 31 would know that. the emotional whiplash and crash was intense and devastating, and i was reeling for days. you cannot tell me that this experience was "wrong" or "toxic" due to it's negative nature. it was entirely involuntary and outside of my control, as i would expect many people's joy was. emotional reactions are not beholden to fandom discourse.

any post i have made criticizing the game since is attempt to make sense of the emotional roller-coaster of the past 10 years, this summer, and finally this game's release. i do not come on here and write out my criticisms of veilguard because i want YOU to dislike it too. the nature of my essays are not persuasive. if they do persuade you its just because i am a well-trained essayist. sorry. if they dont, great! that wasnt the point. i have no desire to change anyone's mind on the game, in fact i actually would not wish the disappointment i felt on anyone. the fact that i have a lot of followers who agree with what i say and who spread the thoughts i express across tumblr is literally out of my control. when i write out my long-winded criticisms, it is out of a need to express and externalize that sinking, cold feeling i had while playing, in pursuit of understanding exactly why playing that game felt that way to me. identifying, analyzing and verbalizing is the only way i have been able to process my experience. its confessional and therapeutic more than anything. it helps other people understand their own difficult emotional process with the game. its not an attempt to ruin your fun. my negative experience with veilguard does not invalidate anyone else's positive one.

i see so many posts acting like all criticism is an intentional, targeted hate campaign and i dont understand that assumption. to what ends? what would that achieve? why would i bother with such a thing? maybe that is some people's intention in the deep hater corners of this website, and im blissfully unaware. if it is, fuck them. its certainly the intention of annoying grifters, but i feel the distinction between transphobe grifters and devastated fans is pretty clear, so im not sure why the lines are deliberately blurred as if those groups are remotely similar. some of my criticisms come from a more objective place. the writing comes to mind, and it's a consistent criticism from thousands of players. but just because i consider it to be poorly executed, does not make it unlovable. and when i say that i think its poorly done, i am not saying that you cannot or should not love it, or that you are stupid for loving it. maybe someone out there is saying that!!! but i am not. things do not have to be perfect to be enjoyable. they dont even have to be well executed to be enjoyable. "i think x aspect of veilguard is poorly done for yz reasons" is a completely different sentence than "you should not like x aspect of veilguard for yz reasons". these are not the same statements. i see so many posts that are so vitriolic and acting like two experiences of this game cannot coexist, that one has to win and be objectively right, moralizing them on a false axis of positivity = good and negativity = bad, and acting like the existence of one negates the experience of the other. and why? why would that be true? i literally love so many things that other people think are absolute ass. i also love plenty of things that i myself think are actual ass. i love them anyway. this is allowed and really fun. i am not sure who told you that it is not.

however, i have just as much of a right to express my disappointment as you have to express your excitement. i am genuinely happy for everyone who loves the game, i am glad it resonated, or that you saw yourself in its characters, or that it just scratched your hyperfixation itch. but whatever je ne se quoi it had for you, it did not have for me. i have written out so much criticism about so many aspects of the game, but fundamentally what it comes down to and what i cannot express in words is that while i played after waiting 10 years for that moment, it felt wrong. it wasn't that i had specific expectations for game story that were not met, in fact, it exceeded my expectations in a lot of ways. i mean that in terms of how i felt, something was off. it did not resonate. it did not land. it did not hit the right cord with me. i did not have enough moments of joy to outweigh the feeling of emptiness. i did not walk away from it feeling the way that the previous games made me feel. and ive been trying to figure out exactly why that is for three months now by talking about it with people who feel similarly. i am not sure that i will ever be able to analyze my way into figuring it out. it might just have to simply be that it left me bereft.

and so my posts are not anti-veilguard hater propaganda to make you feel like shit for loving the game. rather, they are me verbally processing exactly why i feel like shit so i can hopefully stop feeling like shit. to assume that people who are trying to process these negative feelings are toxic and intentionally malicious is a projection made in bad faith. i love dragon age, and it is because i love it so much that it disappointed me, and it is because disappointed me that i have to verbally process it on tumblr.com so that i dont go absolutely insane. i tag my posts properly. i do not go into tags where i do not belong. i do not rage-bait. i am participating in post-partum dragon age therapy between me and my followers. if it ends up on your dash, sorry. my therapy is popular i guess. so please for the love of god enjoy the game, freely and enthusiastically. i am happy for you. i will sit here and be jealous that it spoke to something in your soul that it unfortunately did not speak to in mine, and nothing i say can take that away from you. please stop interpreting it as an attempt to.

[saveyourblood]

Pretty Boy - Ch 8 (Buddie x Reader)

Summary: You can feel Buck staring. When your eyes meet his, you realize he’s staring at your hand, which is still on Eddie’s knee. You slowly retreat, which makes Buck turn his attention to your face. You smile softly. He just looks out the window. The one where you’re an advanced paramedic, Buck and Eddie are firefighters, and you think you might be in love with both of them.

Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4 | Ch 5 | Ch 6 | Ch 7

Chapter Summary: A Tsunami hits LA, leaving more than a few tragedies in its wake.

A/N: You know what would be cool? If you left a comment :) Word Count: 3.2k Warnings: mentions of trauma/injury

“How’s Buck doing?”

You look up from your afternoon cup of tea. Normally, you’d drink coffee, but you’re trying to reduce your caffeine consumption. There’s a lull, so you’re sitting in the loft, trying to catch up on charting. One simple question from Eddie, though, and charting be damned.

“He’s… Buck,” you say. It’s not much of an explanation, but you hope it makes sense anyway. “He was really excited to come back, and this definitely threw a wrench in things.”

Eddie shrugs in contemplation. “Maybe he’s not as ready as he thought he was.”

“No, he’s plenty ready,” you disagree with a chuckle. “I just think maybe his body isn’t. Like, maybe this is a sign for him to take things slower. I don’t know.”

Eddie hums in acknowledgment. “Everything okay between you two?”

“Yeah,” you say almost immediately. “I mean, sometimes it sucks being the optimistic one all the time. But other than that, we’re okay.”

“‘The optimistic one’?”

“Buck gets down on himself sometimes,” you explain. “Like, sometimes I think he doesn’t get out of bed until I get home from work. I keep reminding him that everything happens for a reason, but… honestly, even I’m starting to have trouble believing that.”

“Sounds like things maybe… aren’t okay,” Eddie observes.

You can’t help but laugh. So much of your internal dialogue is you convincing yourself that everything is fine. When you say it aloud, it definitely doesn’t sound fine.

“I don’t know what else to do,” you say quietly, propping your elbow on the table. You rest your cheek on your palm.

“Trust me, I know the feeling,” Eddie agrees with a bittersweet smile.

Jesus Christ, you’re a terrible friend. Eddie lost his wife a few weeks ago, and here you are, bitching about boyfriend problems.

“How are you and Christopher doing?” You ask softly.

“How you’d expect,” Eddie answers with another sad grin. “It’s hard getting him interested in anything. He just goes to school and sits in his room until he sleeps.”

Your heart aches at the thought. You know what it’s like to grow up without a mother, but you never had to deal with the pain of losing one, not to the same extent as Christopher. You lost her, but you didn’t love her before you lost her.

“You should bring Christopher over some time,” you suggest. “I mean, Buck has nothing better to do all day; he’ll tell you that himself.”

Eddie nods, slowly at first, then quicker. “Good idea.”

Bobby crosses the loft. While you don’t want to end your conversation with Eddie, you also don’t want to waste the opportunity in front of you.

You close your laptop. “Hey, Cap? Can I talk to you?”

The last time you were in Cap’s office, you were being reprimanded for pushing Buck against an ambulance. Now, you’re bargaining on his behalf. It's funny how things change.

“What can I do for you?” Bobby asks after you take a seat across from him.

You take in a deep breath. “I’m here to talk about Buck.”

“About how you’re dating him?”

You blink. “Cool, so now everyone knows.”

“Eh, I’m not sure Chimney does.”

“Oh please, I’m sure him and Hen talk about it all the time,” you laugh. “How’d you figure it out?”

Bobby shifts in his seat. “I saw you kiss him in the hospital.”

Your face flushes. “You’ve known since the start, then. That’s… fun.”

“Honestly, I thought it was going on longer than that,” Bobby explains. “Since the two of you started getting along, you’ve had a connection. I knew it was only a matter of time before you both figured it out.”

“So… what happens now?” You ask. “Does one of us have to transfer?”

Bobby shakes his head. “Nothing like that. When Buck returns to work, you’ll each have a disclosure form to fill out. It gets sent to HR. Not much to it.”

“Is he ever coming back?”

“What?”

You clear your throat. “That’s what I actually came here to talk about. Are you ever gonna let him come back?”

“Of course. As soon as he’s medically clear, he can return to light duty.”

“Hmm.”

“What does that mean?”

You rub your hands together. “Buck has two settings: 0 and 100. In the last few months, all he’s talked about is getting back to 100. If he can’t be himself here, he doesn’t have a place here.”

Bobby looks at you. “Aren’t you afraid for him? Afraid that him always being at 100 will just get him hurt again? Afraid that he’ll never learn?”

“Of course I am,” you laugh softly. “But those are the things that make him Buck. And, god help me, I love him, even if those things scare the hell out of me.”

“He needs someone like you in his life,” Bobby says softly. “I’m glad he has you.”

“I’m glad I have him,” you agree. You pause. “Listen, Bobby: that man will sign whatever liability waiver this department throws at him. If you’re not ready, I understand that. But if that’s the case, you need to do him a favor and cut him loose. Because he’s ready, with or without the 118. So you should either let him come back at 100 or let him find somewhere that will."

“Seriously, man? A fucking tsunami ?”

“And only one wave wiped out miles of the city,” Eddie adds. “We’ll probably be looking at four or five more before it starts to recede.”

“It’s a good thing you left Christopher with Buck today,” you continue.

A natural disaster means you get to work rescue and paramedicine. You spend hours on a rescue raft, tagging DOAs and helping victims where you can. Eventually, you make it to the Santa Monica Pier. You’ve only been to it a few times since moving, but it’s nothing like you remember it. The Ferris wheel, which is normally on a platform sitting above the shoreline, is partially submerged underwater. Actually, the entire bottom half is submerged, and passengers are still in each gondola.

You quickly evacuate the people standing on the spokes, as they’re the most accessible and have only minor injuries.

“Grab a harness, rope, pulleys, and figure eight plates,” Bobby instructs.

“Times that by two,” you say as you click your helmet on.

Both the men stare at you.

“What? That woman at the top said her husband can’t move. You’re gonna need me.”

“It’s not safe,” Eddie protests.

You scoff. “Oh, it’s safe enough for you, but not for me?”

“It’s… I’m not…” Eddie fumbles.

“Alright, make it two of everything,” Bobby corrects.

Climbing the side of the Ferris wheel is surprisingly easy; it’s like a harder version of rock wall climbing but easier than actual rock climbing. You occasionally have trouble finding your footing but quickly correct it without a hitch. You and Eddie make it to either side of the gondola in no time.

“Oh, thank God you're here!” The woman exclaims.

You sling your bag into the gondola. “What happened here, ma’am?”

“Name’s Stacy. My husband, Max, hit his neck when the wave came, and now he can't feel his fingers.”

“My arms went numb. A couple of minutes later, my legs gave out. Am I paralyzed?” The man asks.

“It’s too soon to tell,” you say, climbing over the side. “You said you lost sensation in your arms first and then your legs?”

“Well, that might be a sign of swelling, which means you bruised your neck instead of breaking it,” Eddie explains.

You look over the side. “Hey, Cap, we can get one down to you, but the other one's a possible spinal. We're gonna need a Hail Mary.”

“I’ll order one up for you,” he calls back.

You hear a helicopter moving in as you and Eddie place a C-collar on Max. You quickly strap him into the rescue basket that the helicopter lowers down. Within minutes, Eddie gives the pilot a thumbs-up, and Max is airlifted into the sky. After taking care of Max, you place Stacy into a harness and help lower her to a rescue raft.

The Ferris wheel shifts. You grab the closest bar and hold on for dear life.

“Incoming debris!” Bobby shouts from below.

Eddie reaches out for you. You reach back. One of the spokes disconnects from the Hub, and it cuts the rope keeping you upright. Another sudden shift, and it’s too much — you’re knocked off the side. You hear Eddie screaming your name on your way down.

The first thing you feel is hot, searing pain in your side, like someone is jabbing a hot iron rod into it. The pain makes you gasp instinctually, but instead of air filling your lungs, it’s water. The feeling makes your head feel light and the rest of your body heavy. You feel a sudden shift in the water, like a heavy object dropped right next to you.

Then, you feel nothing.

You wake up sputtering. The water that took residence in your lungs is evicting itself, whether you want it to or not. You turn your head to the side, your coughs quickly turning into gags.

“Oh, thank god!” A familiar voice exclaims.

There’s some happy laughter in your ears, past the ringing sound. As you continue to heave, a gentle hand settles on your cheek. When you finally cough up or vomit all the water, the hand on your cheek straightens your neck. You feel a sudden warmth on your forehead: a pair of lips.

“What happened?” You ask. It’s barely audible, yet it feels like you’re shouting.

“When you hit the water, you aspirated. You went into respiratory arrest, then cardiac arrest. You were down for 7 minutes.”

The familiar voice… it’s Eddie. You blink your eyes open slowly. He’s hovering over you. There are tear tracks on his face.

“Good work,” you praise, somehow mustering the strength to pat his arm.

He laughs again, and some fresh tears spill onto his face. You smile faintly, a gust of cold air making the expression fade. You’re suddenly very aware of the fact that your top half is bare. Thankfully, they left your bra on.

You cross your arms over your chest. “Can I borrow your shirt?”

“This is stupid.”

“It’s not stupid — you need a hospital.”

“Yeah, a real hospital, not some makeshift disaster hospital,” you argue.

Eddie hasn’t let you walk since the beach; he barely let you stand up for transport. Now, you’re being pushed in a gurney. It’s humiliating,

“They need to make sure you’re okay,” Eddie says.

“I’m okay — ABCs are intact! My airway is patent, I’m breathing on my own, and my circulation is fine. I need a course of prophylactic antibiotics to prevent bacterial pneumonia, but other than that, I’m solid.”

You’re backed up into an open spot under a tent. A doctor begins listening to you while a nurse sticks telemetry patches to your chest.

“I’m gonna go help with triage; you better still be here when I get back,” Eddie orders, pointing a finger at you.

You collapse into the gurney with an annoyed groan. The groan turns into one of pain when the doctor starts prodding at your ribs.

“Definitely broken,” he observes. “Pneumothorax unlikely. We’ll get you something for the pain.”

You shake your head. “Just stop touching it and I’ll be fine.”

“You need something, or your breathing will become ineffective.”

“Something oral, then,” you bargain. “I don’t want to be doped up on Fentanyl.”

“Get her two 5 and 325 of Vicodin,” The doctor orders.

The nurse nods and goes to get the pills while the doctor attends to other patients.

You survey the crowd. There are a lot of ‘walkie-talkie’ patients, which is a good sign. Everyone is dirty and at least a little bit beat up, but from what you can see, nothing too serious is going on. You look to your right, and your eyes fall on the black tent. At least 15 covered bodies are lying on a tarp.

Your vision dances back over the crowd. A man in a white shirt with glasses strapped around his neck is stumbling around. His face has some scratches, and one of his arms is bloody. Weird, he kind of looks like Buck. You squint your eyes, and they widen.

It is Buck.

“Buck!” You shout, already scrambling out of the gurney. You pull off the telemetry leads, leaving only the stickers on your chest. You see a table with folded scrubs and grab a top. You slip it on, jogging slightly to catch up.

“Buck!” you shout again.

This time, he sees you. His eyes widen as he rushes towards you, scooping you into a hug.

“Hey, Pretty Boy,” you rasp out.

He holds you tighter. The pressure makes your broken ribs dig in further, making you gasp with pain. Buck quickly pulls away.

“What happened? Are you okay?” He asks, setting a hand on your face.

You set your hand over his. “I was gonna ask you the same thing.”

Your hand trails down his arm, making contact with a wet piece of fabric. You frown, pulling it away. Even in the dark, your fingers are shining bright red with blood.

“Baby, you’re hurt,” you say, taking his arm into both of your hands.

“It’s nothing,” Buck brushes it off.

“You’re on blood thinners,” you remind. “If a cut is even a little deep, it bleeds for a long time. You might need stitches.”

“I can’t worry about that now. I need to find him first.”

“Find who?”

You look him up and down, eventually settling on the glasses around his neck. They’re Christopher’s glasses.

“Hey, what did I say?!” Eddie shouts from a few feet away.

All the color drains from Buck’s face.

“I told you to stay—” Eddie starts lecturing, making his way through the crowd. He cuts himself off when he sees that Buck is with you. “Buck? What are you doing here?”

“Eddie…” Buck lets out slowly.

“Are you okay? Wait, where's Christopher?” He asks. The expression on his face flattens. “Why do you have his glasses?”

“We, um... me and Christopher, we were...at the beach, and… um...and listen to me, okay? I swear to you... okay, I tried… And I just...”

A few involuntary tears run down your face. Your heart is breaking listening to Buck’s shaky voice and watching the realization on Eddie’s face.

“Christopher?” Eddie asks, his expression changing.

He rushes forward. You and Eddie watch as a random woman sets Christopher down, just for Eddie to hug him tightly.

“You’re Buck?” the woman asks.

“What? No, I’m his father, Eddie.”

“He was looking for Buck.”

You put a hand on your boyfriend’s arm, watching him take in a few quick breaths.

“Are you okay?” you ask softly.

“Yeah… I’m great,” Buck says.

His body disagrees. His legs give way, and he starts to fall forward. Using all of your body weight, you push him back onto a makeshift gurney a few feet away.

“I got you,” you promise, keeping your arms around him.

He grips the arm you have around his chest, leaning into it for support.

You kiss the top of his head. “I got you.”

“So what really happened to you?”

You smile sadly, taking a sip of your water.

You and Buck have been up all night, sitting at his kitchen table. He went through everything that happened to him and Chris during the tsunami. At some point, it became morning. Normally, you’d be drinking coffee by now, but you thought it best not to put extra stress on your heart until you see a cardiologist.

“Eddie and I were on top of the Ferris wheel — ironically, the one at Santa Monica Pier. We were helping clear victims from it, and then the tide shifted. He reached out for me, I reached out for him, but a piece of the Ferris wheel broke and cut my rope. I fell into the water on my side, which is how I broke a few ribs. I aspirated, went into respiratory arrest, and… my heart stopped. They coded me for 7 minutes.”

Buck shakes his head as he runs a hand down his face.

“All I remember is hitting the water, then waking up on the shore,” you continue. “In between that, there’s… nothing.”

Buck takes a sip of his beer. “That’s probably for the better.”

You laugh. You can’t help it — it’s always been one of your coping mechanisms. “Yeah, probably.”

“Well, I’m glad it was Eddie there,” Buck says. “I mean, Hen and Chim would’ve fought like hell, but he’d move the earth for you. Just like I would.”

That funny feeling settles back into your stomach. Eddie cares about you in the same way Buck does; at least, that’s how Buck sees it. Some day, that’s bound to cause trouble. But for now, you’re grateful for Buck’s gratitude.

There’s a knock on the door. Buck frowns but gets up to answer it.

It’s Eddie and Christopher. Christopher is the first to enter, hugging Buck.

“There's a morning snack and midday snack, two coloring books and a bunch of Legos,” Eddie says as he walks in. He sets Chris’s backpack on the table, then looks at you. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” you return with a smile.

“Between us, he's never built anything that kinda looks like anything. He just likes sticking things together,” Eddie continues in a low voice.

Christopher is blissfully unaware, making his way to Buck’s couch.

“There's 20 bucks for pizza, and if I were you, I'd eat a couple extra slices. You look like you're wasting away to nothing.”

“Eddie,” Buck says, voice flat.

“ I will say, honestly, you being laid up is working out for me.”

“You want me to watch Christopher?” Buck says, approaching Eddie. “After everything that happened?”

“A natural disaster happened, Buck.”

“I lost him, Eddie.”

“No, you saved him,” Eddie argues, pointing at his son. “That's how he remembers it. And now, it's his turn to do the same for you.”

You feel like you’re intruding on the conversation, but you don’t dare look away.

“I was supposed to look out for him.”

“And what, you think you failed? I failed that kid more times than I care to count, and I'm his father. But I love him enough to never stop trying, and I know you do too.” Eddie sets a hand on Buck’s shoulder. “Buck...there's nobody in this world I trust with my son more than you.”

Eddie looks at you, then back at Buck. “Except for her, maybe. It’s the whole paramedic thing.”

“Which, speaking of…” Buck brushes Eddie’s hand off his shoulder, but it’s to pull him into a hug. “Thanks for saving her.”

They clap each other’s backs a few times, pulling away after a few seconds. Buck keeps his hands on Eddie’s arms while Eddie keeps his hands on Buck’s waist.

“She saved us first,” Eddie remarks.

He makes his way back to the door. He opens it and is about to walk out. Before he does, though, he turns around and points at you.

“You’re officially not allowed to work rescue anymore,” he declares.

Buck nods. “Agreed.”

Ch 9

[dandelionjack]

using the above tweet, i.e. proof that he’s a fan, to begin an Assad Zaman For The Sixteenth Doctor agenda. (not that i want Ncuti gone, god forbid — i hope he stays on for the usual three seasons or more!) now back to Assad: just look at him, for heaven’s sake

you’ve heard the man on interview. you’ve seen him perform fiery theatrical speeches in fits of rage and quiet judgemental contemplation and irresistible charm. he’s got matt smith’s talent of portraying an incredibly old, world-weary immortal while being a young man

you can just envision him. stepping out of that big blue box. a calmer, less brash-and-bold, less ostentatiously optimistic doctor than fifteen — the twelve or eight type, a brooding romantic, distant and wistful, yet with that edge of emotional manipulation like eleven possessed

i am aware that plot + character dynamics + personality + costume design + set design + mood and atmosphere etc. are all up to the writers, directors and rest of the crew, not the actors at all, but they are created to fit around the doctor’s actor’s vibe to an extent — at least i know that capaldi influenced a lot during his tenure, from the fashion choices to the intensity of twelve’s relationship with clara.

basically, we all know how assad is. he understands armand on an intimate level. he’s got a grasp on the psychosexual multi-layered tension of it all. so, provided he gives input, this could be a renaissance for all us twelveclara eightcharley elevenamyrory ninejackrose (etc. etc.) freaks — imagine another unstable “TARDIS trio”, all at odds with each other, challenging each other, with the episodic sci-fi stuff as a reflective background to different aspects of their complex relationship. series 5-10 were peak for a reason. we need that type of Who back, no offense to ruby “perfect companion with 0 tension” sunday. not like kids won’t get it: kids actually love the moffat era plenty + there’s always fun scary monsters for the kids to enjoy

well, i’m getting ahead of myself. # assad zaman for sixteenth doctor 2028 . look at his sad, deep eyes. there’s a billion years in them

[weird-is-life]

Don't deny it

Pairing: Rockstar!Sirius Black x fem!reader

Summary: Rockstar!Sirius keeps denying your relationship and you finally have enough

Warnings: angst, fluff, use of pet names, use of y/n, swear words, mentions of head injury, happy ending ofc

Words: 2.4k

You thought, that you've been just imagining it, but as you hear Sirius getting interviewed now, you know, you haven't.

Sirius has been keeping your relationship secret. Like everytime he got interviewed in the last few months, he played it like he was single. No mentions of a girlfriend, meaning no mentions of you.

Like you get it, that the band is really famous and that mentioning your name would kind of make your life a bit more difficult. With less privacy and everything.

But he doesn't have to say your name, he could just admit having a girlfriend. No need to go into details.

And you think, you've finally had enough when you hear him reply to the reporter's question.

"So my last question is for all of the fangirls, is Sirius Black taken?" the reporter chuckles as she asks it.

You hear Sirius laugh too," taken? No, I'm definitely not taken. Still very single, sadly."

You hear him laugh some more, before you turn the interview off. You feel like the dumbest fool.

Obviously, Sirius is too embarrassed of you to even admit he's dating anybody, there can't be any other reason.

And you've definitely had enough of it. Everytime he denies your relationship, you feel like your heart is being ripped out of your chest and stumped on.

You can't go on like this. You don't want to hurt like this anymore. You can't keep hoping that one day, he's going to admit having a girlfriend. You just can't, it pains you too much.

So with that, you decide to ignore Sirius, hoping he'll understand, that you don't want to see him ever again. You know, he shouldn't be home for at least 2 weeks, so hopefully by the time he comes home, you'll move on (too optimistic).

You stop responding to his texts, answering his phone and eventually, you even turn off your phone. You don't give him any explanation, you don't think he deserves one.

Sirius on the other hand is going crazy with worries just after a few hours of radio silence from you. He even calls your best friend to find out if you're okay. Apparently, you are, but you friend refuses to tell him anything more and just hangs up on him.

That doesn't ease his worries at all. He rakes his mind for an answer to what's he done? But nothing comes to his mind.

He tries to contact you again and again, but still, no response. You don't respond even when James or Remus try. So Sirius starts to loose his mind over you.

But he can't leave to go to you, no matter how much he wants to. The band is in the middle of finishing the new album, so he can't just bail on them. He tried it and got yelled by the management pretty badly. Threatening of getting let go by their label if he just leaves.

Sirius becomes completely useless at the studio and the band rehearsals, messing up everything, because his mind is stuck on you.

"Please sweetheart, pick up, please" Sirius whispers brokenly as he once again tries to call you.

You don't pick up and the phone call ends. Sirius throws his phone across the room from the frustration. He slumps onto a sofa and puts his head into his hands in defeat.

He sits there with tears freely running down his cheeks. It's a heartbreaking sight, seeing him so hopeless.

James and Remus find him like that and immediately know, that they have to push him to go see you.

"Go, " James tells him.

"What?" Sirius looks up confused, eyes red.

"Go after her," Remus adds encouragingly.

"But the label....I can't....they'll cut us off-"

"Doesn't matter, we'll just find some other label, there's plenty of them, that want us," James says, maybe a little smugly at the fact, that are are many labels that would kill to have The Marauders.

Sirius looks at them unsurely, "are you guys sure?"

James and Remus groan in frustration, "fucking hell, will you just get out of here, please?" James tells him.

Both Sirius and Remus chuckle, and Sirius quickly gets up. He comes up to the boys and hugs them tightly, squeezing them almost death, until they are pushing him away.

Sirius basically sprints out of the studio. He just grabs all the essentials and runs to the airport. One of the benefits of being famous is the private plane, which he happily uses on his way to you. He gets home in a record time.

The walk through the halls towards your apartment is very nerve-wracking. Sirius doesn't know what to expect, but he certainly doesn't expect all of his stuff, that he's left at your apartment to be sitting outside waiting for him.

"Shit," he curses under his breath and runs a trembling hand through his hair. He can't believe this is happening. He hopes it isn't. He hopes, it's just a nightmare, that he'll soon wake up from. He can't just loose you, he won't survive it, he's sure of that.

Sirius checks under the rug for the spare key and as expected, it isn't there. So Sirius just knocks.

No answer.

He tries again, because he knows you're inside, he can hear the shuffling of things.

"Y/N, please it's me, please open. I-I....can we please talk?" Sirius begs and begs, but you're too stubborn for your own good, you've always been like that, so you don't open.

He knocks and begs, until the neighbours are threatening to call the police on him. Sirius, defeated, sits down with his back to your door.

"Please, love, c-can we just talk?" his tired voice still doesn't break you, but Sirius doesn't give up, " okay, it's okay. I'll wait 'till, you're ready."

And he means it. He makes himself as comfortable as he can on the floor, intending to stay there however long it takes.

You, on the other hand, put on your headphones to ignore Sirius pleads and knocking. You just can't see him right now or anytime soon, your heart is too broken for that.

Even if one part of you wishes to see him and hug him, your body craves the comfort of him. But the rational part of you knows, that'd be too bad for you.

Sirius keeps hiding you and you keep hurting, you can't go on like this, not anymore.

You go to sleep, full of raw emotions, and even if sleep doesn't come easily, eventually you drift off.

In the morning, you wake up just as tired as you were, when you went to bed. And when you open your fridge, you realise, you don't even have anything to eat for breakfast.

You groan internally, you don't feel like going out of your apartment, like at all, but you have to, you can't go on without food.

You put on your most incognito clothes, hoping that you won't meet anyone you know, especially Sirius.

And as you open your door, they suddenly slam wide open, because of some weight pushing against it front the outside.

Said weight, you realise, is Sirius. You yelp in shock, when you see him and look at him bewildered.

Sirius wakes up with a groan. He wasn't thinking of you opening the door, when he first leaned against it. Now he kind of regrets it, as his entire head hurts from hitting it on the floor.

"What the fuck, Sirius?" you whisper yell, you would yell loudly, if it wasn't so early in the morning.

Sirius, upon realising that he can finally see you, stands up quickly. That isn't the best idea though, because his head starts to spin.

"Sweetheart, i-"

"Don't sweetheart me, Sirius. What the hell are you doing here? Have you been here since yesterday?" you question, angrily. You notice, that Sirius looks just as bad as you. Huge eye bags under his eyes, hair dishevelled like crazy.

"Yeah, I told, I'd wait until you were ready to talk," he just replies, giving you a small, hesitant smile.

You don't know, what to say. Your head is full of emotions and you can't decide, which ones are right and which ones aren't.

While you are thinking of what to say to him and glaring at him at the same time, Sirius head starts to spin badly.

"I think, I'm going to pass out," Sirius quickly tells you as he almost tumbles on the ground.

You, without thinking, catch him by the arms.

"W-what's wrong?" you ask a little scared. You find Sirius at your door and suddenly, he's passing out?

"I hit my head..." he mumbles out and hisses as he touches the back of his head.

You sigh, "fuck, okay, c'mon." You help him to your couch and swiftly go to retrieve some ice pack for his head and some water.

You put the ice pack at the back of his head and Sirius winces some more. "Sorry," you whisper.

"It's okay-....I- thank you, sweetheart." Sirius calls you 'sweetheart' again and you want to slap yourself for feeling the butterflies.

You quickly go to the kitchen, so he doesn't see the redness at your cheeks. "Shit," you whisper to yourself, "what am I going to do?"

You've wanted to stay away from Sirius as far away as possible and now he is in your apartment? You don't know if you want to run away, punch him in the face or kiss him stupid.

You stay as long as you can in the kitchen, basically just hiding away from Sirius and you complete forgot about your intention of going to the shop.

Sirius is unusually quiet, so after a longer while you gather all the courage you can to face him, only to find him fast asleep.

You sigh at the sight of his peaceful, asleep face, you quickly throw a blanket over him (before you can think it through) and head out to actually get something to eat, 'cause you're starving.

When you come back, Sirius wakes up at your arrival.

"H-hi, "he says with a groggy, sleepy voice. He smiles at you like nothing has happened, like everything is normal and it makes you suddenly so so angry.

You drop your grocery bags on the ground and quietly, but sternly ask, "you are embarrassed of me, that's why, right?"

Sirius is quickly woken up from his half asleep state by your mad voice and baffles," e-embarrassed? What? Of course, I'm not."

"Yes, you are," you say exasperatedly, you can feel, that your eyes are filling with tears, " you are!"

Sirius stands up slowly, but steadily and comes closer to you, not entirely close, he still wants to give you some space. "I could never be embarrassed of you, y/n, never."

"Then why?" you ask desperately as one tear rolls down your cheek, Sirius's hand itches to wipe it away.

"Why what? I don't understand," Sirius begs for explanation, while he rakes his mind for an answer to his question as well.

"Y-you keep pretending like I don't even exist, like you don't want me!" you try to suppress the little sob, that escapes your mouth. Sirius wants to fucking beat himself up for making you cry, even if he doesn't really know the reason why yet.

"What do you mean?" Sirius asks stupidly and you sob again.

"What? What? What? The fucking interviews Sirius, I mean them," you pretty much yell it to him, the frustration being too much for you.

Sirius finally understands and the realisation hits him like a crushing wave. He didn't know you were feeling this way about them," why didn't you say anything? I thought, you were okay with keeping our relationship private."

"Private yes, but not to the point you are literally chuckling and saying how incredibly single you are," you argue," that's just wrong. But if you want to be single so badly, i won't fight against it."

"No," Sirius blurts out instantly, " I don't want to be single."

"Then what do you want?" you sniffle.

"You. Just only you, nobody else," Sirius is trying to catch your gaze, but you refuse to look at him, "sweetheart, please look at me."

You hesitate, but eventually you look at him. You notice, that tears aren't only on your face.

"Have you been feeling like this for a long time?" Sirius questions and you nod, he curses under his breath.

"I'm so sorry, i didn't notice. Shit, I'm such an idiot, " he starts and without thinking he takes a few steps closer to you," I'm sorry, angel. If I knew, you were feeling this way, I would have never ever continued denying our relationship. Fuck, It was killing me to stay quiet about us, I wanted to tell them everything about you. Please believe me."

You stay quiet and your sobs slowly start to go away. Sirius waits for you to say something, anything really.

"N-not everything please," you whisper. You can't stay mad at your Sirius long, even if you'd really want to sometimes. It's just not possible to be angry with him, especially when he loves you so much.

"What was that?" Sirius doesn't catch it.

"Don't tell them everything about me please," you tell him as you, after a few days, smile. Truly smile.

Sirius takes it as a permission to finally touch you. He has you in his arms in a matter of seconds, squeezing you oh so tightly, while he laughs happily.

"Does this mean, t-that I am forgiven?" he asks you unsurely, as he reluctantly eases you out of his tight embrace.

"Maybe," you grin at him

"Maybe? What do I have to do to get a yes, huh lovely?" Sirius softly asks, he takes your cheeks into his hands and gently wipes the tears away.

"You could kiss me, you know," you say with a sheepish smile. You look too cute, cheeks red and puffy, for Sirius to say no to you. As if he would every deny you a kiss or anything else for that matter.

He instantly leans it and kisses you, it's soft and maybe a little desperate kiss, but it doesn't matter to you or him.

You let him kiss you as long as you manage without breathing, even if you know there're still things to talk about. You'll talk about it, just later, after you get enough kisses.

[respectthepetty]

Before I do whatever it is I do for episode twenty of Perfect 10 Liners, I want to state that Junior is entering into the Fluke Gawin territory of babygirl.

And every week, I get more excited for Junior and Mark to give me more of their special brand of chemistry in My Romance Scammer.

It wasn't in my Top 5 GMMTV picks for nothin'!

So I am delighted that Junior and Mark get to play Lapis Lads in love with each other because they are easily my favorite couple in this eighteen-year-long show.

I think the only ones more happy than me are Green Guy Gun and his bestie Yellow Yal Arm.

Who is actually wearing yellow! Unlike his Red Rascal boyfriend who is wearing black.

But I'm not upset about it because I have bigger issues to focus on like Yotha constantly being true to his color and embodying his Negative Ned persona as he continues to doubt Faifa's ability to love while his sunshine boyfriend resides in Optimistic City with the rest of us.

So I loved the fact that Gun kindly reminded his man that Yotha once made him cry . . . a lot. People need time to learn to love, and thankfully, Gun gave Yotha plenty of time, so now it's time for Yotha to support his brother who was there when Gun needed him and quit being the nail in my clown car's tire!

Because Faifa is in love with Wine even if he can't say exactly that! But, to my surprise, he has been owning up to his big emotions every chance he gets. He told Wine that he purposefully bumped into him in the park. He tells Wine he is cute, and that he is trying to change his ways for him. HE REJECTS PEOPLE!

Faifa likes this dark Blue Boy!

And the whole world knows it!

Sidenote: I'm in love with the translation since it uses this idiom which also includes their color!

And even though Wine isn't 100% sure of his feelings, the colors and his actions are telling me he likes Faifa just as much as he agrees to stay on the phone with his light Blue Boy while they sleep with the light blue backing him up.

So even though these two color-coded boys in love are still trying to confirm if they need to make another plate for Wine at the family dinners,

Arm is already in his Jane Austen Emma mode and matchmaking like a true Regency era socialite. Only Arc could rein him in, and even then, Arm is prepared to pull out the final boss next week when he suggests his OTP visit the love guru known as Tawan.

And considering how everyone, including Yotha during an actual physical fight to support his brother and bestie Blue Boy Phuri, keeps telling Faifa he needs to be a bit more selfish when it comes to love and quit being so dang nice to everyone and their mom, I'm excited to see what advice Tawan will offer the boys.

Like they can't keep hiding from what is right in front of them.

And they can't keep ignoring the way they feel about each other.

They are in love with each other, and they are helping each other in all the best ways.

So if these two toxicitos could make each other better and communicate how much they love each other, then I have hope for the best Blue Boys.

But these perfectly color-coded boys have to get over a few humps first, and, unfortunately, they aren't the sexual kind.

So thank goodness Wine is there to help light Blue Boy Faifa learn how to reject people since it physically pains Faifa to not be of help at all times.

And it's even better that Faifa is turning darker for his dark Blue Boy and becoming more possessive about Wine as he slowly realizes he wants to be the only one to be his special someone.

Thank God.

And thank (Blue Boy?) Jay for asking the questions that need answers!

Because our boy deserves someone to make sure he drinks milk alternatives, changes his shattered phone cover, and gets home safely.

I love these Lapis Lads.

And soon they will realize they love each other.

But . . . will that be before or after Tor makes an appearance?

[dykesynthezoid]

I do think we’re getting at least some escalation of devil’s minion in s3 btw. And I don’t think that’s even me being hopeful or optimistic I think it’s literally just logical.

I’ve seen people say oh, but devil’s minion happens in QOTD, and s3 is TVL; and firstly, they’ve definitely made it sound like some elements of queen of the damned are going to be present in s3. Secondly, I suspect season 3 is going to end with the lead up to Lestat’s San Francisco concert. So the whole season will be both Lestat backstory + the set up for the events of QOTD. And devil’s minion happens, guess what, before Lestat’s San Francisco concert. It would almost not make sense to not at least touch on it while the other story beats are culminating up to that moment. Like, Daniel and Armand are already present in the story (where they aren’t in the book in the modern day storyline), why would you not continue their storylines to the next logical step?

Also, I think you have to consider just how many new characters and storylines QOTD introduces and how daunting that can be to absorb if you’re unfamiliar. Waiting to do anything with devil’s minion until season 4 means that’s just one more new storyline to have to inject into a narrative already very crowded with exposition. It just doesn’t make a lot of sense to do that, and I suspect the writers are pretty aware of that.

And frankly like. What other storylines would Daniel and Armand be getting? Like how are either of their stories supposed to move forward without, y’know, each other? Are we supposed to expect all of season 3 just to be one big pause button on both their larger narratives? That seems very silly. Daniel at least has the journey of adjusting to vampirism, but Armand especially is like. His semi-redemption and character evolution comes from devil’s minion. That’s the only real next step for him.

And I mean. Look at Assad and Eric. I don’t think Rolin Jones could convince them to wait a whole other season for something to happen if he tried. I know, I know it’s easy to be like “oh but maybe it’s just actors being silly” but compare how open they’re being about it now and how much more tight lipped they were in between seasons one and two. It’s night and day. It is a very very different vibe. And apparently, Assad has been plenty excited about it this entire time, so he was actually somehow managing to keep his mouth shut before. But now maybe he doesn’t need to, because he knows season 3 will at least offer something in the way of that development.

I think it’s entirely possible we won’t necessarily see the full “culmination” of their relationship until season 4, but I do think season 3 will at least have development and escalating tensions that are undeniable. I think it’ll likely start out slow and ramp up as the season continues. I’m not going to panic if we don’t get much in the first few episodes or if it takes until episode five to see Daniel’s turning. That might be needed, honestly, in terms of giving Lestat his necessary focus. But I think more small pieces will begin to accumulate, will escalate to a place of higher tension by the mid season, and then the finale will include some type of reveal or emotional climax, setting things up going into season 4.

And you know what, it’s worth mentioning: things have happened faster on this show than I expected before! I did not expect Daniel to be turned at the end of season 2. I thought we probably had a whole other season to go before that happened. “Well they were afraid of cancellation” / “well Eric just wanted to be a vampire so badly” and will these things also not apply to season 3/Eric and Assad wanting devil’s minion?? Idk babes. I’m doing the math and it doesn’t seem that crazy to me

[bitchy-craft]

Messages For You | Pick A Pile

Hello and welcome to this Pick A Pile! In here you'll find out a few things you should hear. I hope you guys enjoy and find this useful. Do make sure to leave comments down below on your experience! I do want to remind you all that this is a General Pick A Pile which means this is for a lot of people; therefore keep what resonates and leave what doesn't.

ANNOUNCEMENT: I added the ability to choose your own questions to be answered in my shop.

Masterlist > Questions > Paid Readings [NEW]

Pick A Pile!

Pile 1:

Relax, you deserve time off

It’s okay to take a step back; and when you do so, use that time to observe everything around you

Be confident and strong, you can do whatever you want

Be your true authentic self, that’s the way you’ll succeed

Don’t sit and wait, move and grow

It’s okay to take risks, most of the time they aren’t as big as you imagine them to be

Obstacles are there to overcome, do so

Leave behind what doesn’t serve you, they’ll be stuck where you leave them

Don’t always defend, start and fight

They’ll get what they deserve

Pile 2:

Be proud of what you’ve achieved, you deserve it

If you can’t reach what you want, jump and get it

Stand your ground and keep your head up high, the rest will follow

It’s okay to be worried, and it’s okay to have a support team to help you get through it

Rome wasn’t built in a day, you have plenty of time

They help you a ton, they want to help you a ton, let them

Someone is jealous of you, pay attention

You’re allowed a little help to grow

Patience is key

Focus on yourself, not around yourself

Pile 3:

Love yourself, you deserve to be loved

There are people who are protecting you

These people are trying to reach out to you; recognize their signs

You don’t need to do everything alone, there are people who want to guide you towards success

It’s time to heal, you’re ready

Balance your time and energy; take your time and take your needed breaks

It’s okay to not succeed immediately, you can try different things before finding what works best for you

Be optimistic, have hope; it’ll come to you

Choices are there to be difficult; take your time to analyse your decisions

What you’re waiting for will be there soon; continue what you’re doing, do your best

[fadedneonzzz]

Some very very sad news today, Rooster Teeth has officially closed its doors without warning to many including many people working at RT. It’s rough as now the fate of RWBY is currently in limbo with WB looking to sell the IP off along with the other popular IPs. Now it’s very likely RWBY will be picked up by someone at some point as it’s pretty profitable as a franchise, that’s not what I’m worried about. What worries me is RWBY getting the gen:LOCK treatment in which a new group of writers are tasked with continuing the story with no input from the original writers or creators. The last thing I want is another company trying to reinvent the wheel with RWBY to “revolutionize” or make it “more appealing”/“more profitable”. My hope is that the majority of the original cast is kept, most of CRWBY is retained, and that the only change made is the company attached to it. Ideally, I want a company that will allow them to continue their vision for RWBY with as little interference as possible.

Also, if you’re celebrating this because you think RT deserves it or because you think this will be the death blow to RWBY, kindly fuck off. People legitimately lost their jobs without warning, these animators worked tirelessly to deliver a show loved by many more and entertained people for over 10 years to continue the legacy and memory of Monty Oum. It’s really disgusting to see people take joy in this. Yes, RT was definitely a flawed company, in fact it did plenty of shitty things over the past 5-6 years, but even still I don’t think there’s a single person who deserves to lose their job and potentially livelihood because of it.

Now am I a little too optimistic? Maybe, but that’s just how I am. There’s definitely a chance we’ll never see another volume of RWBY again, but I think it’s better to cross that bridge when we get there instead of fixating on the doom and gloom.

[maddyjones2]

low angst, high comfort long fic recs

what it says on the tin: Low angst (low conflict between Crowley and Aziraphale), high comfort (positive committed relationship), over 200k, fics with plenty of story. The first three are already complete. The fourth is the joy of my Sundays.

shotgun wedding by @charlottemadison42 it's much recommended for very good reasons. Some angst about relationship due to external constrictions. The conflict is sourced outside the relationship. If you are a self righteous health insurance exec or fascist fan of scandalized testing in education this might not suit you. Otherwise, it's a good 'un with a wonderful surprise at the end.

if he is your cleric ... By @noodlefrog-omens Crowley is hungry and thinks Aziraphale is dinner. Once they get over that small hurdle, and C realises A can provide both dinner and conversation there is an excellent quest. All your fav antiheros are dreadful and have satisfying and appropriate outcomes. The good people triumph and live happily (we hope). No d &d knowledge is required

You know I'll never be lonely by @sylwritesstuff and @ladydragona an omegaverse romance. Crowley is single parent for his nephew, Warlock. He meets Aziraphale in the course of his work and things do not end optimistically. After this start they meet again on a more positive note. Almost all the conflict in this fiction are social and the strength of A and C together is what allows them to triumph. I love the idea of being able to transform into a wolf. Both Crowley and Aziraphale are competent, skilled and wear clothes with pockets.

Finally, the king's dearest knight by @sylwritesstuff and @ladydragona is another omegaverse romance. There is magic, a quest, sword fighting, bad people, good people, so much fun. No transforming into wolves so far but I'm not ruling it out for the future :-). Although Aziraphale and Crowley both have secrets, this doesn't prevent from trusting each other and not letting others divide them. Again, both Crowley and Aziraphale are skilled, competent and no hampered by their clothes for the life they are living. Conflict comes from outside our beloved idiots. This fiction has been going for six months and has at least as far to go again I suspect.

The amount of work involved in creating these very long works seems to me to be incalculable. I dips me lid, which seems woefully inadequate acknowledgment of the effort made and joy bought.

[hb-writes]

You Never Know

Summary: A seemingly random, last-minute lunch in the park turns into a moment Charlie and Harvey Specter will remember forever.

Characters: Harvey Specter & Charlie Specter (OC)

Suits (Lines to Live By) Masterlist

Comfy-vember/Comfy-cember/Fluff-uary Masterlist

—

Charlie focused on the chip in her mouth, savoring the crunch and the sharp, tangy flavor as salt and vinegar took over her mouth. Before she had even finished chewing, she was already fishing for the next one, her fingers searching the small bag for the perfect chip, one of those that was folded over, ensuring maximum crunch, maximum drowning out of the thoughts in one’s head.

Not that drowning out thoughts was the intention of this last-minute little picnic lunch of sorts. It was rare that her brother had time in his mid-day schedule to meet her. Rare that he could take his lunch in the park with her rather than at the office or simply not having time for a lunch at all, but when Charlie proposed it, texting him and asking that he meet her at school since as a senior, she was allowed to leave campus for the forty-minute lunch period, Harvey had been agreeable to them getting a little midday sun. Charlie had hoped the sun and the park and her brother’s presence would calm her nerves enough to do what needed to be done. She had hoped it would set the stage just right, but for some reason it wasn’t doing its job. 

Not for her, at least.

Harvey, though, he seemed plenty relaxed, reclining back against the park bench in his sunglasses now that he had finished his hot dog, sunglasses shielding his eyes and making him look impossibly cool and nonchalant, catching the eye of every single person that walked by. 

“What’s up with you?” Harvey asked, sliding his hand into Charlie’s chip bag the second she withdrew her own. Something deep inside Charlie protested at Harvey stealing her chips even though he’d paid for their lunch and pretty much everything else she owned, some vestigial sibling thing she figured she’d never quite grow out of.

“Nothing,” she answered before taking a large bite of her hot dog, one that would require her to spend a significant amount of time chewing. 

“Right, and you just invited me on a Thursday afternoon picnic for fun.”

Charlie finished chewing and swallowed. “You’re not having fun?”

“I’m having a blast, but you look like you’d rather be anywhere else right now.” 

Harvey glanced at his watch. Charlie had to be back at school in fifteen-minutes, meaning she had about ten minutes to get to the point.

“Time’s running out.” Harvey lifted his sunglasses. “What’s up? Out with it.” 

Charlie popped the last bite of hot dog into her mouth, focusing on chewing and swallowing before she turned from him to start digging into her bag. Harvey was once again enjoying her chips when Charlie turned back with an envelope in her hand, one she had been holding onto for a while now, too nervous to open it because she knew that whatever was inside would decide her future. 

The first time a letter came—that one from Columbia University—Charlie had ripped it open without even thinking. Without hesitation. And reading that first sentence had hurt all the more because of it. Because she had been so optimistic. So certain. 

Charlie hadn’t even considered the possibility she could be placed on a waitlist. 

Most of her classmates had already received their acceptance letters and had made their selections, eagerly donning attire representing their chosen university on Fridays as was allowed during second semester of senior year as per the school dress code. More than Charlie was envious of that, she was anxious that she would end up having to wear her school blazer for the rest of the year, because it seemed like no universities would be choosing her. 

Around the time Noah and Louisa received their eleventh or twelfth acceptances, Charlie had started to feel some real doubts start to creep in. Maybe she should have diversified her applications. Maybe she should have looked beyond NYC. Maybe she probably, most likely should have applied to more than two schools. 

Because two schools wasn’t really a lot, especially not when one put you straight on their impossibly long wait list, and now that Charlie was in possession of the decision from the only other school she had applied to, she was really thinking she had fucked this up.

Maybe.

Probably.

She blamed herself more than anything. She had pretty adamant that she only wanted to apply to these two schools, but she couldn’t believe that Harvey had actually let her go through with it. What the hell was he thinking? 

Harvey withdrew his hand from the bag of chips as soon as he recognized the return address printed on the top left corner and wiped his hand on the napkin before he took it from Charlie. 

“How long have you had this?”

Charlie shrugged. It had been well over two weeks. Probably closer to three, but she had convinced herself that it was better not to know. Harvey didn’t need her to know anyway as Harvey had already scanned the postmark, seeing at least when it had been sent out from NYU’s undergraduate admissions office. 

“Don’t you think we should open it?” 

Charlie shrugged again and Harvey sighed. He wasn’t so old that he couldn’t remember how it had felt receiving his own college decision letters. Back then, a letter from NYU had been a way out for him. Harvey had been desperate to get away from home, desperate for a little distance from dynamics that were eating him alive, responsibilities and secrets that weren’t his to hold. 

It hadn’t hit Harvey until now that for his sister, a letter from NYU would mean the opposite. While Harvey had been desperate for a way out, Charlie was desperate to stay. She was excited for college, but she liked her life. She liked their home. She didn’t have anything she wanted to run from because with Harvey she felt safe and loved and happy. 

“You know it’s okay,” Harvey said, moving the small bag of chips so he could slide closer and fit an arm around his sister. “Whatever it says, we’ll figure it out.” 

Charlie nodded as she leaned into Harvey, his closeness more comforting than his words. Anything resembling Charlie’s agreement was feigned, a gesture made for Harvey’s benefit only since she was having trouble believing that anything would be okay once she read the letter. 

“And the decision’s already made whether you open it or not, so you might as well—” 

Charlie took a deep breath. She knew he was right. “Can you do it?”

“I can, but I think you should be the one to do it.” Harvey handed the envelope back to his sister. “We’ll figure it out, whatever it says.” 

“It’s probably a no,” Charlie mumbled. 

Harvey didn’t argue with Charlie’s pessimism though he knew it probably wasn’t a ‘no’ considering she’d been waitlisted at Columbia already. At worst, it would be another waitlist, but Harvey doubted it.

“Listen, Charlie. Life is like—“

“Don’t you even dare,” Charlie cut him off before he could even get properly started with his Forrest Gump quote, but he was already committed and the fact that Charlie elbowed her brother as she admonished him meant the words had had their intended effect. Charlie had relaxed at least a little bit. 

“You never know what you’re going to get, so quit delaying and just open the goddamn letter, Charlie.” 

Something about Harvey’s wording frustrated Charlie enough that she finally did it, eagerly ripping open the well-sealed flap and allowing the contents to spill into her hands, tears falling from Charlie’s eyes as she read the first few words. 

We are pleased to inform you that you have been admitted to…

Charlie pulled her eyes from the letter to grin at her brother. There was more to read, pages upon pages of information, but she hugged her brother before turning back to it, her arms latched around him. 

“I guess this means you have to let me borrow your sweatshirt tomorrow,” Charlie said as she pulled away. “I have to wear something from NYU.” 

Harvey didn’t bother arguing that she must’ve had something in her own closet to wear, or that they could go get her a sweatshirt of her own. She’d been stealing that particular crewneck for years, constantly praising it for being perfectly worn-in and vintage. She’d never said she liked it so much because it belonged to her brother, but Harvey knew that was part of it, too. Just like how he’d actually enjoyed that Charlie continued stealing it from time to time, even if he didn’t enjoy that it no longer fit her like a dress. Or the fact that he no longer had to roll the sleeves for her.

Those facts and the fact that his little sister would be going to college in the fall actually made Harvey a little sick. He couldn’t believe how time had gone so quickly. How much things had changed for them.

But more than anything, Harvey was proud of his sister. 

“It’s your sweatshirt now, kiddo,” Harvey said. “You earned it.” 

—

Suits (Lines to Live By) Masterlist

Comfy-vember/Comfy-cember/Fluff-uary Masterlist

[beau-bunny]

binging diaries again… finally got around to my diaries Aphmau redesign…

She’s a bundle of joy when she first arrives in town, a selfless and optimistic problem-solver who took one look at a rotting, decaying village and decided she would fix it up single-handedly. She repairs their houses, builds a guard tower, builds them a bigger and better farm, builds more homes, brings a lot more villagers and merchants to the town, rebuilds old alliances that decayed after Malik’s death and makes new ones with near and faraway towns. Shes stubborn and headstrong at times, and in the beginning her desire to always see the best in people leads her into some nasty situations, but through her actions, agency, and persistent efforts, she becomes the embodiment of hope and healing for the town (Very similarly to how Irene the Matron aided her hometown in its recovery!). This is why the town elects her the Lord of the village.

Loss after loss, battle after battle, traumatic event after traumatic event, the state of the world slowly falling apart around her gradually chips away at her bright and cheery demeanor, matures her, hardens her into a woman that is- still very much capable of being sweet and happy and warm and loving!!! She never loses her core personality!! But it…changes her nonetheless. It hurts, and she grieves, and it comes dangerously close to breaking her over the years. She ends up hardening into a woman who’s capable of playing both the darling lover and the military General. A woman who’s learned how to be cautious and wary and approach things tactically, who learned how to determine the difference between a good person who just needs to be warmed out of their shell—and a charismatic liar whose nowhere near as good as they seem on the surface. She’s mature, she’s wise, she’s a natural leader, she’s cautious and on occasion can be rather guarded, but…she’ll always be warm and gentle and kind on the inside.

After Aaron dies, her mental health takes a massive dip, and on occasion she ends up in a rather dark mental place. A vengeful, angry, violent place. Come season three, she’s learned that sometimes you have to kill in order to protect the ones you love the most, and after he dies, that part of her becomes…a bit worse. If you’re her ally, the only change you would have noticed is the deepened bags under her eyes and her lack of sleep, but if you’re an established enemy, like, say, Zane, you might notice that she’s stopped talking things out and started jumping straight to Kill Mode (…which is, tbh, valid). She leans heavily on her partners to help her through this darker time in her life, and after the series finale when they get Aaron back and Shad is defeated, she’s doing much better.

She’s a sweetheart and a goody-two-shoes, yes, but like. she’s also basically a military general in the midst of a very long war. she’s got fuckin ptsd and is MUCH more emotionally mature and wisened than her Mystreet and Void Paradox counterparts. girlies been through hell. literally.

Also religious trauma I think she’d have plenty fair share of religious trauma from the whole Irene business

[adhd-coyote]

Shiver was terrified.

There was a sleeping tubie in his arms, a too-small cadet clinging to his pants, and a pair of teenagers wracked with growing pains scurrying behind him. He was praying to the little gods his ori’vode had told him about that the tubie would stay asleep, because if any of them made too much noise, it was going to be over. Shiver could not let that happen.

He’d memorized schedules, camera positions, and multiple routes to their destination, and stuffed bags full of supplies in preparation. Honestly, for how hurried this plan had been, it was a good one, or at least he hoped it was. It had to be.

Step one: Pack everything he could carry into a bag stolen from one of the trainers.

Step two: Figure out and memorize a route, make sure to have back ups.

Step three: Go oldest to youngest- grab Cabu and Mirda, then Circuit, then CT-7814.

Step four: Get the hell off of Kamino.

And somehow do all of that without getting caught.

He’d managed the first three steps. Step four would likely be the most difficult. Shiver wasn’t even going to think about what they were gonna do once they were actually off planet. Right now, his only goal was to get them to the hangar, grab a ship, and leave. He could worry about after that later.

He’d already picked out a ship and slipped a carefully-measured sedative to its owner. Combined with Trainer Stilgor’s drinking habits, they’d have at least six hours before he woke up, and even longer before he realized his ship was gone. Plenty of time for Shiver and his hangers-on to steal it and be well on their way, so long as they reached the hangar without issue. Everything had gone smoothly so far, but Shiver wasn’t optimistic enough to think things would keep going that way.

He hated that halfway there, he was proven right.

Labored breathing drew his attention to Circuit, whose steps were getting more unsteady as he struggled to keep up. Circuit had always been weaker than the others - the result of some sort of genetic defect - and that day’s training had been hard on him. Shiver wished he could have given Circuit more time to rest, but they needed to leave as soon as possible.

Without speaking a word, Shiver handed the tubie over to Cabu, made sure the cadet was holding him right, and then pulled Circuit up into his arms. Circuit wrapped around him, legs around his waist and arms around his neck, and held tight. They kept going.

Miraculously, there weren’t any more issues. They made it to the hangar, which was blessedly empty, and Shiver used the stolen remote to unlock the ship and lower the ramp so they could hurry onboard. Shiver set Circuit down in one of the back seats of the cockpit, while Cabu handed the tubie off to Mirda and took the copilot’s seat to help prep for takeoff.

Shiver let instinct take over, grateful that medics received flight training and that their chosen ship was one he could fly. They were ready in no time, and after making sure all of the cadets were buckled and Mirda was holding 14 tight, Shiver grabbed hold of the yoke, took a deep breath, and took off.

[thenightwolf51]

A detail from the first Trolls movie that always kinda confused me was the fact that Chef was gonna feed Poppy to Gristle.

Poppy is King Peppy's heir, shes the future queen. You'd think that would make her off limits. She needs to survive to be crowned and eventually continue the royal line. The bergens are a monarchy themselves so they understand this importance and the trolls are their livestock so they would have to put some focus on maintaining genetics and keeping the trolls at a somewhat stable quality of life, that includes the social dynamics of the tribe. At least as much as we would keep track of the Queen bee in a hive, the biggest bull in a herd, or the fastest horse in the derby.

But now with Band Together it makes more sence.

Viva is older than Poppy, which means that she would likely have been assumed to be the future queen. As far as the bergens are concerned King Peppy already had his "heir and a spare". Poppy was just the spare.

With that in mind, i wonder if it was a tradition for bergen royalty to be fed a royal troll for their first trollstice. "Every prince deserves a princess" Chef had said. Did Peppy have a sibling that was fed to Gristle's dad?

If Poppy hadn't been born, would Viva had been considered old enough for Peppy to be given to Gristle instead? She managed to lead the Puttputts when she got seperated. Or would Gristle have gotten Viva and the bergens just hoped Peppy would create a new heir?

And back to the genetics bit. Do you think they selectively bred the trolls for the best taste or effect. Like specifically choosing trolls or families with undesirable traits to cook at trollstice so that their genes die out. Is that how the average pop troll of the current generation got to be so... delusionaly cheerful.

Like i know its all played up for the movies because their pop trolls, constantly singing and dancing and eating sugary sweets. But in comparison to the other genres they just seem more exaggerated.

So how much of that happy positivity and optimistic near lack of self preservation that most pop trolls have is natural for their genre and how much is enhanced due to at least 100 years of selective breeding.

I imagine the happier a troll the more dopamine/serotonin they produce naturally so the bergens would probably take care to decrease the the amount of trolls that wernt as "potent". Which likely would have been trolls that sang and danced less, were more likely to develop anxiety or were prone to depression or going grey.

On the evolutionary side of things this would have led to the happiest and more optimistic pop trolls to be the most attractive and ideal mates even if the trolls don't relize the scientific reason behind it or consciously notice that happy trolls had a higher servival rate.

(Which kind of reminds me of that one post that said something about boybands like Brozone who made trolls happy with their music likely being "protected" in some way because bergens wanted them to continue making trolls happy)

And i do think the pop trolls were captive for at least 100 years because i doubt a whole town and castle, essentially a small kingdom can be built in one life time. Especially not one with an established monarchy and near religious holiday that has a "minister of happiness". Honestly i wanna see it as over 200 years, give them plenty of time to forget their pre-trollstice history like the existence of other tribes

This is a bit long and rambling but my world building mind really wants to hyperfixate on the details of the pop troll's captivity and what it means for them as a species and for the ways their culture might have shifted or adapted.

[analogwriting]

The Walk-in

Killer x gn!reader (afab edition) word count: 4.2k amab vers. a/n: i got this idea from a revelation i had about how im pretty sure every walk-in in every restaurant ever has been boned in at least once. my source to site is me bc ive been working in the food industry since i was, like, 12.

“Oh my god, y/n, have you seen the new cook?” Your best friend, Wire, spoke up from behind the bar. He was currently wiping it down, preparing for the rush that would be starting soon. 

You were bussing tables when he spoke up, you paused, walking over to him and tossing the rag over your shoulder. “I haven't. Isn't he a friend of the owner’s son or something?”

“Yeah. Met him in college.”

“Ah. Friend hire.” You made a face, causing Wire to laugh. He knows how much you weren't a fan of people being hired just because they knew someone who worked there - especially when it came to the owner. “They never last.” You shook your head. 

“Oh, c'mon. I heard his cooking is great.”

You raised an eyebrow as you went back to wiping down tables. “Biased opinions, probably. Of course they're gonna say his cooking is great. But good cooking isn’t everything in this line or work. You and I both know that.”

Wire had a thoughtful look on his face as he nodded. “That's true.” There'd been plenty of instances where a good cook was hired, but they couldn't deal with the rush or crazy customers. None of them would last through the night. “He seems like he'll hold well.”

You snorted, standing up and folding your arms across your chest. “That's what you said about the last guy.” You rolled your eyes with a grin. The poor sap didn't last half an hour. 

“I was being optimistic?” You snorted and shook your head. “Oh sure. Optimistic.”

“I'm sure he'll become overwhelmed and leave within the hour.” That was your bet. You didn't usually expect much from newcomers, especially friend hires. 

“Wow, not even giving me a real shot, huh?” A deep voice came up from behind you. A shiver ran down your spine - not from fear, but from the sheer attractiveness his voice had. Oh shit.

You turned around and the air left your lungs as the most beautiful and sexy man stood behind you. You blinked, trying to find words to say but your brain wasn't fully caught up with the situation. Holy shit, this was the finest man you'd ever seen in your life. 

“You must be the head server with the high expectations then.” You opened your mouth to say something - only for nothing to come out. You glared over at Wire who held his hands up in surrender with a shit eating grin on his face. He knew that this man was exactly your type and chose to retain that information. 

A sly grin spread across the cook's face. “Cat got your tongue? Where'd all that barking go?” 

Your eyes widened, one of them twitching. Oh, he had a mouth on him too. It was on. 

Finally, your brain caught up. It'd felt like eternity, but it was only a few seconds. You folded your arms across your chest, an unimpressed look crossing your features. “I believe I am giving you a chance, just don't have high hopes. Can’t in this line of work - takes a special breed.” 

You looked him up and down. Fuck, he was fine as hell. “Anyway. They say you're a good cook. The customers will be the judge of that. That's not all, however. Where most people fumble is service itself. Always ends up being too much for people - too busy.” 

Then your brain circled back to what he had said earlier. “And of course I have high expectations. I only want what's best for this place and I don't need people wasting mine or my coworkers time.” 

The man before you just had an amused look on his face as he watched you. That irritated the shit out of you for reasons you couldn’t specify at the moment. “Don't worry, I won't be wasting anyone's time. I assure you, I won't be going anywhere either. You better get used to me now,” he crooned, leaning in as he spoke.

Your eyes narrowed at him. You wanted to punch him in his smug little face. “I've had plenty like you, too. Big talk. Think they'll last. Usually, they're the quickest to leave. Honestly, I’m being generous with an hour.” 

He chuckled, straightening back out. “We'll see when I'm still here after rush then, huh? If I stick it out, which I will, what do I get for winning the bet?”

The sheer audacity of this man. You stared at him, but didn't hesitate in your answer. “A job, duh.” You rolled your eyes. “I don't have time for this. I have a floor to prep.”

The cook laughed. It was one of the most beautiful sounds you ever heard. Damn, you must just be horny. It had been a while since you've gotten laid, but you also had a rule of never sleeping with your coworkers. You didn't knock others for doing it, you just didn't personally. You felt it made things complicated - though you were also an overthinker. Too many what ifs. What if it didn’t work out? What if you hated working together? What if you spent too much time together? What if, what if, what if?

“I'll see you after dinner rush then.” He winked at you and your heart almost stopped. Jesus fuck, you were down bad for a man you wanted to strangle. He walked off, leaving you standing there with Wire. You watched him leave, admiring his fat ass as he left before you turned back to your best friend.

He burst into laughter and you narrowed your eyes. “You're the worst, you know that?” That caused him to laugh harder. “Oh my god. I was just waiting for the moment for the part where you both just tear off each other's clothes and start going at each other right there, holy shit.”

Your face immediately warmed up. “Shut up, Wire. No one asked you.” You folded your arms across your chest with a frown. “You could've fucking warned me he was hotter ‘n hell.” 

Wire laughed again. “And miss the look on your face? That was priceless. I've never seen you be so taken aback before. The great y/n rendered speechless by the new cook.”

“Don't call him the new cook. He's gotta prove himself first.”

Another chuckle came from your best friend and he shook his head. You sighed, looking in the direction said man had left.

“What are you thinking about now?”

“How it's a shame he's not a baker with all that cake he's got. And how I wouldn't mind him icing mine.” Wire burst into laughter again and you just shook your head, clicking your tongue. “Too bad he won't last.”

Your attention shifted to the customers that walked in and you headed over to greet them. 

--

Rush was busier than usual. It was always insane, but it was even more so tonight. This was something you usually lived for, the chaos of the floor. It kept things interesting and helped time fly by. Slow nights drove you insane, which is why you were always scheduled the busiest nights too. Plus, you were insanely good at your job.

Being head server, your main job was just making sure that things were going out on time, keeping tabs on your servers, and taking care of any customer issues. You were technically a manager, yes, but you liked the title of head server better.

However, you could feel eyes on you all night. Yes, that's typically normal considering you're a server, but this was different. You also knew exactly who the culprit was. The new fucking cook. Every time you headed to the back or to the window, his eyes were on you. You'd glance at him, catching him red handed. 

Only, he didn't look away like most people. He kept his stare, only offering up a grin and the occasional wink as he cooked. Your body heated up every time, flustered that he was so casual.  Your mind was running wild with what you wanted him to do to you. You tried to keep yourself busy, but the growing heat across your whole body was making it hard. 

You tried to lie to yourself, saying it was because rush was busier than usual and you were running around even more. Every time you finally started calming down, he seemed to appear out of nowhere with his stupid smile, sending you into a spiral again. 

You could honestly punch him, that might just solve your problems. He was aggravating in every sense of the word. His cocky attitude was getting to you, making you even crabbier than you already had been. You were trying your best not to take it out on your fellow servers or the customers. It was fine for the most part. 

After rush, you asked another server to cover the one table you had left so you could take a minute. You immediately beelined it to the walk in. You flung the door open, unbuttoning your shirt a few times as you walked in. You closed your eyes, listening to the hum of the fans keeping it cool, and taking a deep breath as you fanned yourself with your hand.

Then the door opened, revealing the new guy. Someone mentioned his name was Killer. Funny. You wonder how he ended up with a stupid nickname like that. 

You glared at him as the smug smile spread across his face. Unfortunately, you knew he didn't end up leaving. His eyes being glued to you all night constantly reminded you that he had proven you wrong. He actually had done pretty well and the customers seemed to enjoy his cooking. He'd be sticking around as long as he wanted now - the job was his. Which also meant you had to deal with the fact that you were going to have to see him almost every day. 

“Guess you're stuck with me now, huh?”

“What are you even here for? Just to bother me?” You were in a foul mood and it was all his fault. You weren’t in the mood for his cocky attitude or ‘I told you so’ right now

“Well, I originally came back here to grab something but now I don't even remember what it was supposed to be now that you're in front of me looking like that.”

You looked down at yourself, confused. “What? Gonna make fun of me?” You were disheveled and hot, your skin flushed in some places. 

“No. You actually look really good like that.” A lazy smile appeared on his face as he folded his arms and leaned against the shelves. What the hell was he doing?

You could feel your body growing warmer despite the cooler air being blown at you. “The hell is your fucking angle? You've been staring all night and now you’re saying weird shit.” 

He blinked, raising his eyebrows. “And here I thought I was being obvious.” 

You stared at him for a moment as your head spun. What did- oh. Your eyes widened slightly and his grin grew. “Now you got it.”

Though, he didn't have much time to say anything else before you essentially pounced on him. You couldn't take it anymore, he'd been riling you up all night and you were at your wits end. And he was here, basically telling you to screw him. Actually, literally. 

You had walked over, grabbed him by the scruff of his shirt and kissed him hard. He grinned into you, wrapping his arms around you. “Finally,” he mumbled. 

You shook your head. “Don't let your big mouth ruin it.” He just laughed before kissing you again, patting your ass. You took the hint, hopping up and wrapping your legs around him. He held you with ease, hands firmly on your ass as he pinned you to the shelves. He squeezed you hard, making a small whine escape your lips. 

Your own hands pressed against his chest before pausing. You felt something through his shirt. “Oh my god - are your nipples pierced?” You had never moved faster than you were right now as you undid his shirt. 

He blinked in confusion at your sudden shift of attention, disoriented and a little pouty that you pulled away like you did.

You opened his shirt and, lo and behold, piercings. Your eyebrow raised and a grin spread across your face. “Now, that's hot as hell,” you mused as you ran your hands across his broad chest and piercings, tugging at them a bit. You heard him inhale slightly but before you could play much further, you were set on the ground, lips attacking your neck. 

You felt his teeth graze your neck before lightly biting at you as a hand slipped past your waistband and you felt him begin to toy with you. Getting right to business. 

Immediately, you melted into him, your hands gripping his shirt as your breathing grew shallow and labored. You cursed under your breath, your legs spreading slightly to give him better access. You definitely didn't see yourself shagging this man so quickly, if at all, and especially in the walk in. Who the hell were you at this point?

Though, it wouldn't be the first time someone hooked up in here and it also wouldn't be the last. You just never thought it'd be you.

“Fuck,” you whined, feeling his fingers circle your clit before sliding down further and a single finger teasing your folds. He kissed you again, patting your thigh. Once again, you knew what he was asking, hiking up your leg and he held it as one of his thick fingers slipped inside of you. You gasped, moaning against him. Fuck, you hated how much you were loving this. The last thing he needed was an ego boost. 

But honestly, you were too horny to care. 

You were ripped out of what little thoughts you had when he slid in another finger, moving them around inside you. You moaned loudly, causing him to kiss you once more to keep you quiet. Sure, the walk in had the constant fan to keep things cool and it muffled noise, but it wasn't completely soundproof. 

Knowing your coworkers, if they noticed both of you gone, they more than likely put two and two together. Especially the longer you were gone. You were kind of surprised that no one checked the walk-in yet, they were typically nosey as hell. 

Your moans were growing louder and you rolled your hips against his hand, wanting more. “You're a noisy one, hm?” 

“Says the one who cant shut the fuck up,” you mumbled back, breathlessly. He just grinned, inserting another digit, causing you to shudder and moan again. He moved his fingers around, his thumb stimulating your clit as he did so. He was hitting all the right spots and it was driving you insane. 

“Keep your leg up,” he said as he let go before reaching that hand around you to untie your apron. He emptied it out and rolled it up all with one hand. You watched in confusion but as soon as you opened your mouth to ask what he was doing the cloth was shoved into your mouth. Your eyes widened in surprise.

“Since someone can't keep quiet, I'm not going to be able to focus on ruining you and keeping you quiet.” Your face turned red, your body heating up even more. You felt like you were on fire. This was the most embarrassing situation you've been in but holy shit did it turn you on. 

Before you had much time to react, his hand placed itself back holding your leg and his other hand began to move inside of you. His fingers moved fast and ruthlessly, his thumb assaulting your clit in the process. Your eyes widened at the sudden change of movement, moaning loudly. The apron muffled it, so maybe he'd been right. You don't know how to keep quiet. Shit, how was this man single? With hands like this? 

You felt a coil tightening deep within you, your hips rolling and grinding against him. You were moaning and whining. The apron was going to be soaked by the end of this endeavor.

Right before you reached your climax, he stopped moving before pulling his fingers out of you. You whined in protest, looking at him with desperation. You should've expected something like this at this point, but you were so lost in the sauce that you forgot who was currently fucking you right now.

He spun you around, pressing you into the shelves, and pulling your ass out. He gave you a firm smack, making you whine into the apron. Fuck, he was driving you insane. It's like he knew exactly what you liked. 

A shiver ran down your spine as he pulled your pants down, exposing you to the cold air of the walk in. It also didn't help that you were soaking wet either, making things even colder. You gripped onto the shelves before you, trying to keep yourself from shivering anymore. 

Soon, you felt his body heat close to you. Now a shiver of anticipation ran down your spine. You had felt him press against you earlier when you were making out. He had felt big and usually you'd end up on your knees, getting a nice jaw exercise before you ended up getting railed. However, Killer kind of just took the lead and took care of you. Which isn't something you were really used to. You were also used to usually ending up having to finish yourself off. 

But by the looks of things that wouldn't be the case this time. 

Killer pressed a kiss to your shoulder before leaning into your ear. You felt the heat of his body wash over you, the sudden temperature shift making you shiver. “If its too much, bang on the shelf twice.” You just raised an eyebrow at him. If only you didn't have this makeshift gag, you would've said something smart. 

“Don't worry,” he said. “I can read your comment in your eyes.” You just narrowed your eyes at him, making him grin - he was eating every moment of this up. You weren’t sure how you felt about him already knowing you so well.

Your glare didn’t last very long before you felt the fat head of his cock press against you. A sharp inhale went through your nose in surprise, not expecting him to be quite that large - he was about the same size as some of your bigger toys. Your eyes rolled back as he began to slide his way into you. You groaned, gripping onto the shelving as you stretched around him. You could feel him throbbing against you as your own walls throbbed trying to expand enough to fit him.

You took each inch of him like a champ, spreading your legs more and bending over to get him to fit all inside of you. He eventually bottomed out and you both were panting as he paused for a moment. You could tell he was holding himself back, which you appreciated. You’d rather not have anything tear. That was never a pleasant experience.

“Look at that,” he breathed. “You took in every inch of me. Good job, baby.” His voice was low as he spoke into your ear. You weren’t exactly sure about the petname, but fuck hearing the praise made your head swim. What was up with you? You were never this submissive. 

You moved, pressing into him slightly as you whined. You needed him to move. He just chuckled, but luckily took the hint.

He pulled out of you slowly, almost agonizingly slow. You knew he had to be messing with you. You glared at him over your shoulder and he just grinned back at you. You had half a mind to take the apron out and say something. You started to reach for it when he slammed back into you. Your eyes widened, tears pricking the corners of your eyes as they rolled back. A strangled scream erupted from your throat as you felt yourself climax suddenly. Pleasure ripped through your body, every inch of you shaking as you held onto the shelves for dear life. 

Your breathing was heavy, labored. You hadn’t been expecting that in the slightest. You thought he’d take it a little easier, but at the same time you’d never felt anything that good…probably ever.

“Too much?” You looked at him through your blurred vision, shaking your head. A smile appeared on his face, replacing the concern that had been there. “I knew you could take it,” he said. In that moment, you realized he was panting pretty heavily too. His skin glistened with sweat, hair sticking to his face. Fuck, he was one of the most beautiful men you’d ever seen in your life.

His hands gripped onto your hips and you knew you were about to have your shit absolutely rocked. You gripped the shelves, bracing yourself. As you predicted, he absolutely started to go to town. One way station to pound town, population: you. Or however the saying went. In moments, the sound of skin against skin mixed with grunts and moans was filling the walk in. You just silently prayed that the cooling system was loud enough to muffle the noise for the most part. 

You didn’t dwell on this too long as your mind was slipping further and further into the lusty abyss of pleasure. Your entire body felt like it was on fire despite the fans blowing right on the two of you. You wouldn’t have been surprised if you the cooler was going to end up being on the warmer side after all was said and done.

With the absolute ferocity he was drilling into you, you wouldn’t be surprised if you couldn’t walk or had some serious bruising tomorrow. You knew you’d have to push through it though because tomorrow was your double. Fuck, you really didn’t think this through. Hell, you didn’t think at all.

Again, your thoughts came and went, never sticking around for long and soon just nonexistent. Your eyes were practically glued to the back of your head as he used you. This was the railing of a lifetime. You’d already came once and you could feel yourself on the cusp of another. Killer was also about at his wits end too - his movements were growing more desperate and erratic.

You reached the edge first, feeling your body shudder once more as euphoria washed over you with your climax. You let out a muffled, long moan. His hips also stilled as he came hard as well. You were filled with warmth, feeling overly stuffed even more so before feeling some of it leaking down your leg. Damn, just how much did he unleash inside of you?

You were slumped against the shelving, trying to collect yourself. Your eyes were closed as you panted heavily, too weak to make any movement right now. Killer was panting too, placing soft kisses along your shoulders and neck while whispering soft praises that made your head spin a little more. 

After a few minutes, he reached over, pulling the soggy apron out of your mouth. “Holy shit,” you mumbled, coughing a bit. 

He slowly pulled out of you, making you whine slightly. You shivered as you were suddenly left empty, still too weak to move. He shoved himself back into his pants before helping you. He dressed you back up; pants on, apron around your waist. He stood you back up. “Are you alright?”

At this point, you weren’t sure - still on cloud nine. “I think I’ll be fine.” You stretched a bit, wincing slightly. “Tomorrow’s gonna suck though.” 

“I can cover for you.”

You looked at him for a moment before bursting into laughter. “No offense, but I think you’d be a shit server.” 

He frowned. “And here I thought shagging you would take the attitude out of you.” 

You raised a brow, putting your hands on your hips. “Is that what you thought? Sorry, this isn’t something that comes from needing to be laid. I’m just always a bitch - personality trait.” You shrugged, retying your apron. You fixed yourself up before looking over at Killer. You snorted, buttoning his shirt back up.

“Looks like I’ll just have to try again.” A smug smile appeared on his face and you looked at him, a smile tugging on the corners of your own. “You can try as many times as you want, loverboy. It ain’t happening.” 

“I’ll ice that cake anytime.” Your eyes widened at his words and he laughed. “Yeah, I heard your little baker comment earlier. So you like my ass?” He winked, making your face turn red. “Fix your hair,” you mumbled. “Make it look less obvious we just boned.”

“Yes, boss.”

You rolled your eyes, flinging the walk-in door open to reveal several of your coworkers standing there. Wire grinned widely, a smug look on his face. “Everyone owes me twenty bucks.” There were collective groans. “No one knows our head server better than me, you should’ve known better than to bet against me.” He shook his head, holding his hand out as everyone forked over money. 

“But they literally never sleep with anyone that works here ever,” someone protested, pouting.

You knew right then and there - you were never going to hear the end of this.

[cartoonjessie]

Hoping to find someone that recognizes the mysterious stars they saw in their vision, Moana and Maui get Moni to make some paintings of the constellation for them. Maui is not feeling optimistic about the vision though... Start from chapter 1 or… Read chapter 5 on AO3 here.

Maui got up from where he sat and Moana followed him, out of the cavern again. Luckily the rain had stopped and the moon and stars were once more illuminating the way. They walked to the shore and only when they’d stood at the ocean’s edge for a few minutes, looking at the familiar stars above them, Maui continued talking at long last: “If you wonder why I’m so scared of walking into a trap, well… I’ve been trapped plenty of times before. It’s no fun.” He wanted to continue talking, but before he had found the words to say, he suddenly felt how her hand had slid into his once more, and as he looked at her, he saw her gaze of encouragement. He’d stopped breathing for the smallest moment.  Her hand slid so easily into his these days - without thinking, even - and while a part of him wondered if it meant more, he quickly shoved that thought far away to focus on what they’d actually been talking about.  “If I had a tattoo for every time I’d been trapped, there’d be no more room for tattoos of my heroics.”