#but listen. i wanna write them!!

[sinnersshackled]

guess who is still alive............ ptn girls my beloveds <3333

[ariaste]

Me: [sees everyone talking about how Assad Zaman was "literally" coming up with RPF about himself and Eric Bogosian in an interview]

Me: ah, fandom's doing its little "interpret an innocent comment in Some Kind Of Way" thing again, let's go find the video and do our own critical thinking about what was actually said here--

Assad: What would happen if I said-- [words that cannot be interpreted as anything but RPF fanfic]

Me:

Me: ok fandom gets a pass on this one actually

[lazybookangels]

okay hear me out. what do our beloved pro players go on to do after retirement? Specifically Neil and Kevin, because I don't think these to could or want to do something that is entirely removed from exy. Sure Kevin has history but I really don't see this man ever making it his job.

So Kevin and Neil have a habit of watching exy games together and I like to think they still do it after graduation whenever they can. It's just their idea of hanging out. Over the years they start commenting on the game more and more and have silly little arguments and debates that get way too heated because it's them. Kevin needs to be right and Neil likes to start shit now and then. As a treat.

One day, at a meeting with the other foxes shortly before their retirement from exy (not out of free will) someone complains that sports commentators are way too formal, they should just let them call a player a moron if they wanted to. Let them be honest. Let them go apeshit. Someone else says Yeah I wish they were more like Neil and Kevin when theyre watching exy together it'd be way more entertaining that way. And well. It's both the worst and best idea they've ever had. Good thing wymack is already gray.

Podcast or radio or talkshow or live TV hell even twitch for all I care but they start doing live exy commentary. Neither of them can shut up about exy and the insane brainrot these two have bouncing off of eachother is unparalleled. It's perfect. Match made in hell. There's a lot of silly arguments, debates taken way too seriously and (mostly well meant) insults thrown around, which makes it VERY entertaining to watch.

They also invite other people onto their little show as guests and that just makes it even more chaotic.

Bonus points if it does well enough and finds its way on TV it would get Ichirou off their backs for another few years at least

[stuckinapril]

I want to read books I want to write more I want to play the piano I want to sing in key I want to delve into fashion history I want to travel I want to publish research papers and I want to become a surgeon and I’m supposed to do all that in this one wild and beautiful life

[zecoritheweirdone]

hey do you guys wanna see a comic for a msa au me and my friend ascel came up with? trick question yes you do. anyway- hehehehehhhoo body swap au <3.

okay quick context for this rq- this is an au where it diverges after freaking out- instead of possessing the truck, lewis ends up chasing the gang for a while, maybe a week or two? arthur and vivi don't know why this random ghost they met ages ago keeps going after them, but one things for sure- he really, really wants arthur's head on a spike.

cut to the present- arthur got separated from vivi and mystery, and lewis ends up chasing him into the woods!

[sunnibits]

potentially hot take but this is a pet peeve of mine

[simplynims]

I remember awhile ago an anon over on audio roleplay confessions mentioned how in audio roleplays the audience seems to forget the 'roleplay' aspect of this type of media. As in you're playing a 'role' of a character in whatever series you're listening to and people tend to forget that when said listener character does something they deem as out of character for themselves.

It got me thinking and I've noticed that I really enjoy it when the listener characters have more defining personality traits and a bit of backstory! It's a much more engaging experience to listen to, especially if the listener character has a lot of their own flaws shown in the writing. I've also noticed that in this specific genre of content, a lot of creators are very hesitant to give any negative traits to the listener character other than faint sweetness and a blank slate that the audience can project their own characters on to.

I'm not going to bash anyone who likes this style of writing with what's supposed to be a self insert, but at some point it does get boring when their default actions in every other video falls back onto those same characteristics. I know it can be limiting especially since the listener is basically the y/n of audios and they want to be inclusive. But when creators realize that they don't need to confine themselves creatively with this, it's a much more fun experience for them AND the audience.

A great example of this type of listener character is Dennys from Escaped Audios. What I really liked about her is that she's a bit of a hot mess, an alcoholic, implusive, has lowkey anger issues, the type of girl that could absolutely give you a mean left hook and overall a character that 'says' and does INTERESTING! THINGS!! You don't know much about her but that's where you, the audience, can insert your own details in because you have the bases of her personality shown through out the My Greasefire Life series to use to blossom your own creativity!

Another example of this is Darlin' from Redacted Audios, you can tell right off the bat through the first few episodes what kind of person they are. They're hard headed, stubborn, distant, a fighter who cares heavily for the very few people they trust and love. Not only that, we're given a bit of backstory of WHY they're like this but it's vauge enough so that the audience can still put themselves in the shoes of Darlin'. It suits so well with the story line because they have depth!

A few more honorable mentions I'd like to also add in is Faithful from Good Boy Audios, Casper from YuuriVoice, the villain listener in Fall of Titans from Pebbles ASMR, etc etc. I know it can be difficult to pull this off without someone complaining that it's not immersive, but people are always going to have something to say whether that be negative or positive. Have fun with it and explore those options!

[politemagic]

everyone say congratulations to the first time homeowners!

edit: i may or may not have been inspired to write some headcanons based on this, if you're interested

[beetlethebug]

just got the tavern story about who would make the best frog and you know. you know that olric would be the best frog. and you also know that he would would go up to march with his big ol' eyes, 100% believing in the possibility of being turned into a frog, and go, "would you love me as a frog, bro?" and of course march would say yes. and because he's a nerd, he'd add, "no one would build you a terrarium like i would. you deserve the best. even if you were a frog." and you can bet your ass the next time that olric is (accidentally) snooping in March's room there are blueprints for the sickest frog terrarium the likes of which you've never seen. because march doesn't do anything by halfs (especially when it comes to Olric).

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Provider Discretion (LU in Healthcare)

(Lots of technical jargon in this one, lovelies, hope you don’t mind)

Something wasn’t right.

The patient herself was… okay. Mostly. She had called 911 because she’d had back pain that had just been getting worse, and she’d said she couldn’t even get around anymore.

Mo and Hyrule often exchanged a somewhat exasperated look when someone called an emergency line for something that had been an ongoing problem, but today this… was different. She just didn’t look well.

“I’m really sorry,” the patient apologized for the fourth time as Hyrule and Mo loaded the stretcher into the ambulance.

“It’s okay,” Hyrule quickly reassured her. His heart ached a little at how much this woman wanted to seem to shrink into oblivion. Even Mo, who, despite his big heart, often came across a little standoffish, had tried to make her smile multiple times. “This is what we’re here for.”

With a chief complaint of back pain, there wasn’t much to do outside of check vital signs. Mo could easily take this call. But Hyrule just… this felt wrong.

“Let’s get a 12-lead,” he said, already grabbing the cables for it while Mo got vitals. His partner didn’t argue, helping him place the leads in the right positions.

Vitals looked mostly fine. The patient’s blood pressure was high. She said she had a history of hypertension, so perhaps between that and her pain that would explain it. Though 180/98 did not make Hyrule particularly happy. But he couldn’t treat that.

The 12-lead showed normal sinus rhythm. Nothing wrong there. But something just didn’t feel right.

Grabbing the blood pressure cuff, Hyrule checked it again, but on the opposite side.

There was a discrepancy.

Hyrule and Mo looked at each other, eyebrows pinching. Mo took a manual on the left. Hyrule took a manual on the right.

They still didn’t match.

Feeling dread fill him, Hyrule told Mo, “I’m taking this call. Let’s get going. We don’t need lights but… just drive expediently, ok?”

The transport was blessedly uneventful. But the discrepancy remained. Her blood pressure was high, but higher on one side than the other. Coupling that with back pain…

Her aorta. Hyrule was worried about her aorta. The biggest artery in this woman’s entire body could getting ready to tear apart.

When Hyrule texted Warriors later, he got his answer.

Dissection. They rushed her to the OR. You pointing out the BP difference really tipped off the doc. Good catch.

Mo whistled. “Good thing she didn’t rupture in our truck.”

Hyrule blew out a breath. He was just thankful he trusted his gut.

XXX

The dispatch information had been for diabetic emergency. Fire had gotten there first, which Aurora was thankful for since she and Dawn were coming from the hospital and therefore farther away than if they’d responded from the station.

When they arrived, the house was a nightmare. The street was so narrow that the ambulance and fire truck blocked the road entirely, the stairs were so narrow Aurora felt like she had to squeeze her arms in just to climb up them, and the turns were so sharp she wasn’t sure how any kind of equipment could get up there. The patient was lying on his bed, altered, and unable to move.

According to the patient’s friend, he’d heard him fall and came up to check on him. He knew he was a diabetic and figured his blood glucose had to be low. Fire had already checked it, saying it was over two hundred. As the firefighter paramedic gave information to Aurora, he said, “He could be acting like this because of his sugar. Could be a stroke. We’re not sure.”

Honestly, Aurora couldn’t see the patient all that well from her vantage point. Dawn had already walked in and started assessing, they’d handed a reeves stretcher to the firemen, and they were working on loading him on to it. The girl went downstairs to prep the stretcher for their arrival. Once they managed to get the patient into the ambulance, Aurora stared.

This man’s entire right side of his face was noticeably drooping. He was moving his head a little to the left, eyes somewhat moving, pupils equal. Aurora quickly asked him to look at her, to follow her finger. While he could stare at her, he couldn’t track at all, and his eyes wouldn’t move to the right. He blinked once while attempting, and was only able to blink his left eye.

Who the hell thought this could be his sugar??

Once Dawn got in the truck, they were quick to get vitals and a 12-lead. He was hypertensive, all other vitals fine.

“We need to stroke alert this,” Aurora immediately said.

“But he was last seen normal three hours ago,” Dawn said uncertainly. “Isn’t that outside the window? Or is the window four hours now?”

“I think it’s four,” Aurora answered. “And it doesn’t matter either way. This is absolutely a neuro issue. Drive us hot, okay?”

Dawn nodded, heading to the front. She drove to the hospital with the lights and sirens on, allowing them a faster transport time, while Aurora called it in to the hospital. As they progressed, she tried to get the patient to follow commands, but he couldn’t. He held up his right arm but couldn’t hold his left up at all, and he still didn’t really track any movement.

When they arrived at the hospital, they were placed in a major room, transferring him quickly to the hospital bed. Warriors was charge that night, working on coordinating all the help they’d need for this patient. The ED physician entered, looking the patient over, and then turned to Aurora, asking, “So what makes you think he’s having a stroke?”

Aurora stopped in mid motion, looking at him with the most enraged and bewildered expression. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Why do you think he’s having a stroke?” The doctor repeated.

“What makes you think he isn’t?!” Aurora snapped, completely mind blown that this was even a debate. “His face is drooping so low it’s hitting the earth’s fucking crust, he’s altered, not tracking movement, blinking with one eye, down on one side, is hypertensive, and you’re asking why I—do you even know what a stroke is??”

“Let’s just alert it,” Warriors said calmly as he walked into the room, clearly sensing that the paramedic was about to explode. “It’ll get us a CT to rule it out.”

Aurora was fuming, and she stormed out before she could hear a response. Dawn tried to gently check on her, only to be subjected to her ranting for the next hour.

Later, Warriors texted Hyrule, who relayed the message. “You were right.”

“OF FUCKING COURSE I WAS!”

XXX

Legend wasn’t particularly a fan of working triage.

There were aspects of it that were exciting - he was the one to make first contact with patients who didn’t come in via ambulance, and he determined their acuity. But there was also a public relations aspect to it, a patience dealing with impatient people, a kindness and sympathy for those who were genuinely hurting or needing help but had to wait anyway. It was understandable, but public relations… was not Legend’s forte.

There was a reason he was put in triage, though.

It wasn’t always obvious, what was wrong with someone. But there were times when a patient just didn’t look right. Legend saw the man limp over, listened to him as he explained that he had some leg pain that had been going on for the last few days, how he thought maybe he’d strained a muscle but the pain hadn’t improved.

There were always signs to look out for. Little things, cues that something was off. The man looked resigned, reluctant; he clearly had been talked in to coming to the hospital, and he commented that his wife insisted on it. Legend saw the clothes he wore, heard the accent he spoke with, saw his muscles, and pieced together that he was probably a farmer.

Farmers never came to the hospital.

“We’ll get you back as soon as we can,” he finally said after completing his assessment. Usually, this patient would be low on the acuity scale—a muscle spasm or strain was not nearly as important as a heart attack, pneumonia, sepsis, strokes, traumas—but Legend made him a yellow rather than a green. Just to be sure.

That higher acuity score got him a room far faster. That faster room made a doctor assess him and notice that his left leg was bigger than his right. That doctor made sure he got an ultrasound of his leg, found clots in his leg. She also learned the man was short of breath sometimes, which his wife insisted was new, and got a CT scan.

Legend glanced at his chart later to see him being admitted. Confused and curious, he did some digging.

The man had a pulmonary embolism.

Huffing with a small smile of satisfaction, Legend closed out of the chart as another patient approached.

XXX

Time had to admit, he did not spend as much time assessing his patients as he should. His hours were stolen away in the OR, unpredictable and chaotic as his line of work was. So sometimes he didn’t get to round, sometimes he didn’t have a chance to walk in and chat with the patients and the nurses and the licensed independent providers who took charge of their care.

Today he was glad he did.

The patient was actually calm and pleasant, had little complaint of anything except for some lower back pain. In the world of uncomfortable hospital beds, it wasn’t a huge surprise.

But Time saw something. Some staining, bruising, around the patient’s groin. He peeked around their gown, turned them a little, and saw it.

Their groin was purple. He asked the nurse, who said they were told this had been baseline for a day or two, and that the independent providers over them had acknowledged the finding and moved on.

Time walked into the doc box where the providers were. “I want a CT abdomen for room 3. She’s got some bruising that’s concerning. Her H&H has been down trending steadily.”

“Her JP drains haven’t put out much,” the physician assistant noted, looking over the patient’s chart.

“She might have a retroperitoneal bleed,” Time pointed out. “Let’s just be sure.”

Years of education and even more years of experience had taught the trauma surgeon well. The war was especially humbling and educational. So when he got a text from the PA that the patient did indeed have a retroperitoneal, he wasn’t surprised. But he was disappointed that he had to be the one to notice it.

Sometimes, he supposed, it took the leader to point out the problem.

XXX

Four… didn’t like this.

Report had been bad enough. The day shift nurse spoke of how the patient had been previously septic and was recuperating well before her pressor demand had gone up during the day. She looked… not great. She was so edematous they were constantly changing the sheets underneath her arms because her body was leaking fluid from every inch of itself - they had dumped fluids into her over the last few days just to maintain her blood pressure. She was on a lasix drip to get her lot o pee off the fluid as best as possible, and her kidney function was… decent, but not great.

As Four assessed her, the clenching his chest only worsened. She was alert, oriented, a little miserable but trying to be in good spirits, bless her. She was peeing a decent amount, her pulses were present despite the swelling, her lung sounds were a little coarse but overall mostly clear. Her abdomen was soft and non-tender, her pupils were equal and reactive, and she didn’t have much complaint of pain aside from being sick of laying in bed, which Four could understand.

But still. This just… didn’t look great.

As the night progressed, the woman’s pressor need climbed. Four continued to increase epinephrine, increase norepinephrine. He tried not to increase the vasopressin too much as it had such a profound effect on vasoconstriction that it could cause necrosis. Also, the woman had a history of heart failure and had a pretty weak heart.

Four eventually went to the resident in charge of the patient for the night. “Hey. Can we maybe give 11 some albumin? She has plenty of fluid to give, but clearly it isn’t in her vasculature - she’s peeing ok but her pressure isn’t tolerating it. I feel like it could help.”

The resident shuffled on his feet uncertainly. “The surgeon really wants to make sure we can get this fluid off. I’d rather keep her negative and not give her more fluid, you know?”

“Yeah, I get that,” Four greed before continuing, “But albumin is only 250mL, and if it helps suck in the fluid that’s third spacing, it’ll still help. We’re dumping fluid in her through the pressors anyway.”

The resident continued to waffle, before the night attending asked, “She’s on vaso, right?”

“Yes.”

“Just go up on that.”

Four stared a moment longer, starting to doubt himself. He hadn’t been a nurse for long, and if an attending physician was saying this, then… it had to be true, right?

Sighing, he went back to the room and did as he was told. The patient’s blood pressure improved well enough, and the night progressed fine.

The next night was not as fine. At rounds, Four suggested that perhaps she should be lined for CRRT, a continuous dialysis that would allow for Four to control how much fluid they were pulling and would likely be better for the patient to tolerate. The night doctors shrugged, saying they’d mention it to the day team.

Again, the woman’s blood pressure was tanking. Again, Four had to increase pressors. Vaso had been turned down and was told to be left alone because the woman’s systemic vascular resistance was so high the attending was worried about her heart. (Four couldn’t help but feel a little bitter about it, because he knew that was going to happen)

This time, though, she went into atrial fibrillation as well. As Four called the resident and attending into the room, they deliberated the matter, muttering, “Maybe we should line her for CRRT.”

Four blinked. Stared. Was he… losing his mind?? Was he invisible? He’d suggested this earlier!

Ultimately, Four had managed to keep the patient stable enough so that it wasn’t needed. Ultimately, the shift ended uneventfully.

But when Four came back for his third night, he could hear the woman’s breathing from the door, he could hear how she was drowning in fluid because she couldn’t tolerate losing fluid but had too much for her lungs and heart to handle. The day team had lined her for CRRT, but her pressors were almost maxed out at their dosage, and she was so hypotensive that the renal nurse who had set up the machine was hesitant to start it up, saying it would further bottom out her pressure.

Tonight was different, though. Tonight, the provider in charge of making decisions and orders was a nurse practitioner, someone who was used to this unit. She walked in, saw the issues Four had seen, and she walked right back out, making a call.

Four struggled to keep the patient alive long enough for the ECMO team to arrive as the patient fell apart. He felt frustration boil his blood as he had to hand off her care after fighting for her, had to watch as the CV ICU nurse came in to take over while surgeons put large cannulas into the patient’s body to redirect blood flow around her heart so she could still perfuse her organs. He watched as they wheeled her out of the trauma ICU to go to the cardiac ICU where she would remain while on such extreme support, and he threw his pen on the desk, burying his face in his hands, fuming.

They should have listened to him.

[wren-kitchens]

i will hurt you, almost definitely (ask the people who have left me)

1454 words

the chests in the barn aren't the most comfortable of chairs, but gem is just making do, anyway. she's been staring at the scratch in the mangrove that she's pretty sure is from when mumbo took all their torches for about ten minutes now, mind entirely elsewhere. there's nothing- it- she's not sure. but.. she and joel seem to be on-track to winning this whole thing. so the question isn’t how will they win—because frankly she's pretty sure they've got it covered if they just keep doing whatever it is they’re doing—it's what happens next. because- it's terrifying to think that gem would have to repeat history, and she's sure- she's almost certain that she won't. they'd- if they both get to the end, they'll find a way to do it fairly. they'll- they could make another fight club. and then- then it's fair. neither of them will betray each other, she's- gem is almost sure.

yea I wrote this in about a day I think I was possessed by the spirit of toxic yuri

i'm not too great at writing arguments yet so if it feels awkward or rushed just pretend it doesn't tyty

the chests in the barn aren't the most comfortable of chairs, but gem is just making do after all. she's been staring at the scratch in the mangrove that she's pretty sure is from when mumbo took all their torches for about ten minutes now, mind entirely elsewhere. there's nothing- it- she's not sure. but.. she and joel seem to be on-track to winning this whole thing. so the question isn’t how will they win—because frankly she's pretty sure they've got it covered if they just keep doing whatever it is they’re doing—it's what happens next.

because- it's terrifying to think that gem would have to repeat history, and she's sure- she's almost sure that she won't. they'd- if they both get to the end, they'll find a way to do it fairly. they'll- they could make another fight club. and then- then it's fair. neither of them will betray each other, she's- gem is almost sure.

gem never really.. forgot what that was like. the image of pearl's face, stony and serious in the way it never is, circles in her mind every minute of every day, coupled with that agonising aching in gem's chest as she realised what that expression meant for her- for them. the way pearl spoke- as if she didn’t even know- of course she didn't want to- how could she even think-

there's a kind of creaking that doesn’t feel familiar, and gem stays as still as she can, listening as the noise seems to move. it's above her, she realises with a jolt, in the attic. gem pulls out her sword, slowly and silently, tensing as she hears the gentle sound of footsteps descending the ladder behind her. she's died once today, and that is absolutely enough for her- whoever this intruder may be is in for an unpleasant surprise.

the sound of a sword unsheathed, and within an instant, gem's blade flies to meet pearl's- and something in her burns. gem pushes herself off the chests, fighting with an intensity she hasn't needed to use since secret life; pearl clearly wasn't expecting it, if the look on her face is anything to go by. it takes but a few moments for gem to disarm her, sword at her throat, panting.

"once wasn't enough?" gem says, and something shifts in pearl's expression. "or is this some kind of tradition now?"

pearl is grinning, as if she has any right. "c'mon, I had to give it a shot, didn't I? yellow and all- who else was I going to kill?"

anger bubbles up in gem's chest, and she swipes her sword at pearl's face- slicing a clean cut across her cheek. "you’re just asking to be red, aren't you?"

it appears that pearl didn’t expect anything other than banter—and maybe she didn't expect to win in the first place—because it takes her a moment to recover. she dabs a hand against the cut, and blinks in surprise when her fingers come back bloody. "I- y’know, I didn't do it to hurt you-"

"kill me?" gem says, voice sharper than she expected it to be. "you didn’t kill me to hurt me-"

"I didn't fight you because I wanted you to die, I fought you because I wanted scar to live." pearl pushes herself to her feet, grin gone from her face. "I couldn’t have both-"

"you could have let it be fair." gem's voice breaks a little, even as it rings through the still air. "you just- you just sacrificed yourself for him, you didn't let me have a chance."

pearl takes a breath. "I wanted him to win-"

"oh- and I bet he thanks you for that!" gem throws her arms out. "you- he was- do you even know?"

"so you wanted that fate?" pearl demands, and gem is pulled up short. "is that what this is about- you wanted to be stuck in purgatory for a year? is that it?" 

gem rakes a hand through her hair, shaking her head. "of course I didn't-"

"so why is it a problem?" pearl half laughs, and gem notices that the sword has left her hand. "you- you don't want to have won- what else is there?"

"I thought we were friends." gem says, and it's not quite a lie. her chest aches as she watches pearl's expression shift into that stupid sympathetic look everyone has given her whenever she says that. 

everyone but joel. he gets it- more than she thought he would.

"we are friends, I just-"

"no, you don't- you don’t get to do that." gem takes a step forward. "you don’t get to- to spout the same shit i’ve heard from everyone else. 'it's just the games', 'you guys are still friends'- no, you broke my trust."

pearl gives a helpless sigh. "I don’t- what else do you want me to say? you’re-"

"if you say 'new' I will rip your throat out." gem says through bared teeth. "weren't you?"

pearl blinks, gaze darting to the side- to the exit. "I- what?" 

gem finds herself moving unconsciously- to block any kind of escape pearl might have. her heart claws at her ribs. "when scott left you? the person  you were supposed to trust- did that hurt? or were you just new?"

"gem," pearl takes a step backwards. "what- what are you getting at here?"

there are tears in her eyes, and gem blinks them away. "I thought you’d get it. you- you lived it, I thought you’d stay."

"it's not the same thing." pearl's voice is harsher now- gem hit a nerve. 

"it's close enough." gem says, fists clenched, shoulders tense. "it's close enough that you should know how much it hurts." 

pearl shakes her head, moving in a way that's almost pacing, but far too jerky and disordered to quite count. there's a stab of regret, and gem hates herself for it. "no. no, it's- that is not the same. he- he left me- i’d done nothing-"

"what did I do?" gem's voice wavers, and she can’t help it. "did-" she can barely finish, and she hates it. "did I do something to you?"

"it- we were soulmates." pearl says, a little more certain- a little more confident that gem can’t find an argument for that. "you and I.." she hesitates, no longer as sure.

gem exhales shortly. "did you- was I not as important?" 

all of a sudden, pearl snaps. "can you just let it go?" she demands, and gem flinches. "it was a year ago- that's just how it goes, okay? why are you so- so fixated on it?"

and before gem can even think about what she's doing- "because I love you!" she yells, and the words echo through the room as if they were in a cave. 

pearl is staring at her as if she'd just stabbed herself in the chest, and gem feels extinguished. "so is that- is that good enough for you?" there are tears falling down her face, and she can’t bring herself to care about it. "is that- is that close enough to soulmates? do you want me to elaborate about how it felt, or can you just agree that it fucking hurt when you killed me like I was nothing."

"so- so you can go back to your impulse, and your cleo, and your scott." gem spits, wiping her eyes. "and you can- you can pretend you’re their loyal dog, and you and scott can do what you always do and die before things get hard and call it a noble sacrifice." gem pushes the gate open. "but I don't want to see you again until i’m the one taking you out of the series." 

"I- gem-" pearl catches her wrist, and gem has her sword out before she's even fully turned around.

her hand shakes, but her gaze is steely. pearl is crying too, and a part of gem just wants to give in and pull her close- but it's only a small part. "pearl, you know me too well to think i'm bluffing."

pearl takes a short breath, and drops gem's hand. as gem lowers her sword, pearl slips out of the back entrance and disappears into the night. gem watches as she runs across the bridge, into the woods, until her silhouette is indistinguishable from the shadows cast by the birch trees- and gem crumples to the floor.

the moon is high in the sky by the time joel finds her there, and the sun is up by the time gem has stopped crying. but there's something in the centre of her chest, something burning red—and there's something else too.

gem is going to win this game.

[poems-of-a-lover]

i think i should have a boyfriend bc i have pretty fluffy hair and pretty big eyes and all that neurodivergent charm

[b0amagination]

Tastes of Whumptober: Day 11

I had an absolute blast with this prompt and I've been looking forward to it for a while. I should've gone and bought some wine so I could write being IDed from experience though. Unrealistic writing 😮😮😮

Convenience Store

Each item was set neatly on the conveyor belt.

A roll of duct tape. Kleenex. Air freshener. Trash bags. Zipties. Rubbing alcohol. Superglue. A bottle of merlot. Disinfectant. Sponges. Latex gloves. A wrist brace. Ibuprofen. A hammer. And a bar of chocolate.

A bright beep sounded as the cashier scanned each one.

“Doing some home improvement?” They smiled, placing the superglue onto the other side of the conveyor where one of their customers, the shorter of the two, was busy bagging with their head down. The other stacked the empty shopping basket with the others and pulled out their wallet.

“Definitely an improvement project,” they nodded back with a knowing look. “The whole thing just needs to be demolished and rebuilt at this point.”

“Oh I hear you. A pipe burst in my basement just last month and my spouse had to stop me from tearing the whole thing down then and there.” The cashier scanned the wine and paused. “Your ID please, Mx.?”

They flashed it with a toothy grin. 

“I’m flattered!”

“Just doing my job. Thank you.” They typed something into the system and picked up the next item. A few items later, a snort broke their calm demeanor.

“Hm?”

“Oh my goodness, I’m sorry Mx! Just had a funny thought.” The cashier scanned the hammer. 

“Do share! Lord knows we could use the humor.” They elbowed their partner who smiled meekly and nodded along, balancing with a crutch under their arm. 

“Well, sometimes home improvement supplies look a lot like premeditated murder supplies,” they giggled, and the taller one broke out into raucous laughter. The shorter just shook their head. “Sorry, I meant no offense.”

Realizing they were being addressed, they fixed the sullen expression across their face.

“Ah, none taken! I’ve just had a tough day, what with this shithead and all.” A playful poke to their partner who just laughed again.

“You’re in for it when we get home!” They stuck out their tongue.

The other went back to catch the items they’d missed in that time, slipping the chocolate bar in their pocket. 

“Alright, cash or card?”

“Card please.”

“Your receipt?” 

“Sure, why not.”

“Perfect. Have a good one!” 

“You too!”

The taller one took most of the bags, but the other still managed to carry one. They were almost out the door when a voice shouted out.

“Oh! Excuse me, I think you forgot one of your items!” The cashier held up the hammer, and the couple turned around. Neither came forward to claim it, but with a nudge and a whisper, the shorter allowed the cashier to drop it into their bag. “Can’t do any demolition without that, can you?” 

“Absolutely not, I’m glad we didn’t forget it!” The other didn’t say a word, struggling to lift the bag now, and then the two were gone. 

.

“Interesting what you choose to forget, darling.” A hissing whisper in their ear, so different from the friendly persona they put on in public.

“I don’t… I don’t know what you’re implying,” they averted their eyes as the trunk of the car opened. Fuck. 

Their captor’s foot landed on their broken ankle and they had to suppress a scream.

“I let you have one good leg for today. Don’t let me regret it.” The bag was taken right out of their hand. “In.”

They crutched up to the passenger door but a clearing of the throat stopped them.

“Childlock doesn’t work on that seat.”

Somehow, climbing into the back was more humiliating after that comment. The door was slammed shut before they could do so themself, and they felt the car shake with how hard the trunk was slammed. A horrible indicator of what was to come.

“I behaved around the store,” they grumbled when the doors locked and the engine turned on. 

“And then you fuckin’ ruined it.” 

“Black and white thinking much…” 

A fist flew against the passenger headrest and they were suddenly grateful to be flinching in the backseat.

“I’m buying a car with blacked out windows. That way, next time, I can throttle you in the backseat.”

[voidcat-senket]

You know that one unfinished fic that you love that tragically doesn't seem to be updating anymore? There's a secret to increasing your chances of getting it to update! Use this One Simple Trick! Leave a review saying you love it.

[thetwilightroadtonightfall]

finally watched Wish and had a major brain blast

They’re besties now because I said so 💫

[wikitpowers]

give us your kitty song recs !!!! please 🥹

OMG!!! THERE ARE SO MANY!!! I EVEN HAVE A KITTY PLAYLIST IF U WANNA CHECK IT OUT! BUT HERE ARE SOME OF MY FAVS <3 :

glimpse of us - joji

say don��t go - taylor swift

love is gone - acoustic - slander, dylan matthew

the one that got away - acoustic - katy perry

happier - ed sheeran

i want to be with you - chloe moriondo

4 ever 4 me - demi lovato

i didn’t know - sofia carson

why - shawn mendes

never not - lauv

all this time - only the poets

when i look at you - miley cyrus

off my face - justin bieber