#i did clean it up a bit late at night so it sort of matches the recent bilbo doodles haha!

[morningnoodles]

lunch break thorin skritches

[shrike-fic]

inexperienced reader x 'i secretly play the flute thinking about you (respectfully)' hozier?

Sorry this took so long yall, I’m constantly busy with…….. interesting stuff. Hope you enjoy :)

⭐️ Hozier zerkin it ⭐️

Warnings: smut pure smut

—————————————————

Andrew got home late into the night after one of your bar excursions. His head was swirling with cheap beer and whiskey laced memories of just a few hours ago, going over what happened as to maybe have some sort of recollection of any of it in the morning. Thoughts of you dancing together, taking shots together, laughing together plagued him as he swayed through the house.

Briefly grinning to himself at this secret admiration for you, he’s taking his coat off and practically ripping his shoes off after he gets into his room. As much as he’d love to pass out on his worn in bed right then and there, he figures it’d be unhygienic to sleep in his bed with clothes that he’d been in all day. In his hazy mind, he stands up with a groan, grabs his shower towel and starts walking towards the house’s bathroom.

As Andrew prepares his shower and strips down, he can’t help but think of some things that you.. drunkenly confessed to him. You confided to him about some things that you may or may not (definitely have not) done. He was shocked of course, how could a girl like you not have men practically falling at your feet? Lighthearted teasing ensued between the two of you concerning who had done what and where and when, but he just couldn’t wrap his head around what you said.

He steps in, his feet hitting the cool tile, and his hand having a matching feeling pressed to his palm as he uses the wall to steady himself. Turning on the water, he melts into the much needed steady warm stream that was pouring over him.

God, how nice it would be if you were in there with him.

He knits his brows at the thought of that, face turning pink with nobody but the droplets on his skin and the shower head to witness it. He feels slightly guilty from this, with you being his closest friend thinking of you in this way seemed wrong. But some part of him knew that deep down thats what he really wanted. Desperately wanted. His head wasn’t getting any clearer the longer he spent in the shower, which made him feel dirty no matter how well he cleaned the whole of himself.

The longer he stayed in that shower, the longer that heat grew between his legs. He knew he was half-hard by now, his dick practically begging to be touched. He harshly sighed out, almost a scoff, and quickly turned the water to cold to maybe sober him up and get rid of some of these dirty thoughts. What was he, a teenager?

With his hair being scruffed up in a towel, and some boxers haphazardly thrown on, he made his way back into his room where he so desperately wanted to collapse in. He fell back into his bed, letting his legs kick up a bit at that motion. After laying there with his legs hanging off the bed, he decides to swing them up and under the covers where the rest of him follows. He rubs his face with both of his hands, knowing deep down how utterly screwed he is. You had just confessed a deeply personal secret to him, and he’s being plagued with all the things that he’d love to do to you.

Heaven knows the splash of cold water on himself didn’t work. It hardly sobered him up, but it did nothing to keep those deliciously hedonistic thoughts out of his head. So there he was, knees slightly bent with his stomach clenched and his hand working his stiff and leaking cock up and down. His head was tossed to the side of his pillow, thrown back with his knitted brows framing his strained face, and his clean pair of boxers somewhere in his messed up sheets.

His lips were parted, with wanton groans and quickened breath spilling out of it. Oh how he wished it was your hand instead of his. His breath hitched and let out a desperate noise at the thought of this, quickening his pace, moving his other hand to comb through his hair.

He wondered how your hand would feel. Softer and smaller than his, not as confident in your actions, yet still wanting to help please him the best you could. His thoughts raced from your hands, to your lips, to what you would taste like. How he’d kill to find all of this out; to experience all of you. His mouth falls open deeper, with his desperate noises becoming louder and needier the longer he stroked his leaking cock.

Pre cum was dribbled on his pale lower stomach, his hips slightly bucking into his thoroughly moving hand. Thumb rubbing up against the hot red tip of his cock provided the perfect amount of friction to get him so close to falling off that edge. His back arching and him twitching in his own hands, he could see stars in behind eyes and feel the knot in his stomach snap as he pumped himself those last few times.

One last cry, and Andrew was sloppily bucking his hips into his hand releasing his cum onto his stomach and fingers. He pumped himself through it, nearing to the point of overstimulation— he just couldn’t get enough of you. Finally he released his spent dick from his hand, and laid there with a mess all over himself. After catching his breath for a minute, he reached over to his nightstand and cleaned himself off with a tissue. Cursing himself lightly as to why he would bother to take a shower just to do this to himself directly afterward.

He wasn’t totally free of guilt after finishing to the thought of you, he just didn’t really know how to deal with it. The best solution he could come up with? Sleep it off. Which would be great, but who the hell is calling him at such a late time? He groggily reaches over to the nightstand to pick up his phone ready to grumble at whoever was calling him at an hour like this, only to realize it was your name at the top of his screen.

He answers the phone, feeling a bit more guilty than before.

“Hey.. ehm… are you alright? Why are you calling this late?”

“You were supposed to call me when you got home, I was worried you hadn’t made it or something” You say with a slight scolding voice.

“Ah I’m very sorry, I was.. in the shower.”

He cringes at himself and covers his eyes with his hand.

[sealofarchives]

Could you create a headcanon for ‘Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles’ about what kind of fathers Leo, Raph, Donnie, and Mikey would be? I find this idea fun. :3

Headcanon: Rise!Turtles being dads and sweetest husband to the reader (Separate) (Requested prompt)

A/N: I'm still uncomfortable with the idea of aging up the guys towards "mature content."

However, this idea was really cute. It only made sense for this prompt where the guys are aged up with some reference to their bad end!future selves. I went with around early 30's when the turtle of your choice and the reader are in a committed relationship and currently raising a kid at the moment.

So please have common sense and think before typing some snarky response with 'oh aged up content is bad lol' (Because I will put those ideas on the 'do not write list' if people get too weird about it...)

Raph

You know how he has the habit of that one baby voice with Mayhem. (and a bit of the hey buddy tone towards Mikey or Donnie)

- His kid is never gonna escape from it. (even by the time the kid is a grown up)

He definitely panicked for a bit when his kid (during the energetic toddler phase) enjoyed climbing over a big guy like him.

- So he had to ask Donnie to make a battle shell specifically as a soft cushion. So the spiky shell doesn't accidentally scratch the kid.

Part of him is worried anytime he has to scold his kid. And only when you're around is when he feels okay to do so.

- He definitely does the "Did you ask (Y/N) if you could have another cookie?" sort of question. (Sometimes willing to go along with what his kid wants or following (Y/N) if he got caught spoiling the kid)

You're getting at least one peck on the cheek by the end of the day.

- Or earlier in the day if he accidentally woke you up.

Compared to his younger self who slightly whined about chores, he grew to enjoy it when both of you worked on it together.

- Laundry being one example where you're usually folding clothing fresh from the dryer. And he stacks a pile back into the clean basket/hamper.

His eyesight in the right eye has gotten a bit worse. (not as bad as his bad end counterpart where he needs an eyepatch) But, you often act as his extra set of eyes and call out to any surprise attacks.

- Which earned the title of you two with a tag team couple and he still blushes thinking about it.

Leo

Every few hours before a night patrol, he always checks in to see what his kid is up to and often gives a hug before leaving.

Often gives bedtime stories through retellings of Lou Jitsu's movies or Jupiter Jim's comics.

- Even acting out of some of the scenes before a yawn decides its time to sleep.

Gave one of his spare bandana scarves to his kid.

- Had the biggest grin on his face when the kid realized "Oh hey! We're matching!!!"

Almost similar to the night patrol part, but if you can't make it because of work or some other boring life detour.

- Its a portal away for a light hang out sesh. For both of you to take a breather away from the grown up life.

Late night conversations are just a regular thing between the two of you.

- Especially when he couldn't sleep. By the time he almost dozes off to sleep in your arms, he still playfully teases you that your voice is soothing to him.

When light conversations about the bad end future was brought up during a casual match of video games, he was never used to the idea that he had a prosthetic arm.

- You instantly hugged his right arm, jokingly reassuring him.

"As long as you can crack a joke in the most serious moment. I'll still know that its you Leo."

"Even in a timeline where, me and the guys were raised by Draxum?"

You gave the red slider turtle a 'really?' pout before he hugged you into his lap.

"Nah I'm just kidding, but for real though. Draxum's former henchmen are still goofballs that know their way around the city. I'm pretty sure that Leo could get a couple of one liners and maybe from you as well."

Donnie

Almost went into a frenzy trying to child-proof the lair. (Especially the month before the kid's arrival changed the atmosphere) But eventually settled down.

- Realizing it would have stressed his kid out by any sudden new changes (and a bit of his family and your help explaining the reasoning as well)

Leo's showboating energy transferred to him but, in a way that, the softshell turtle is very grateful. That he has you as a spouse and both of you raising a kid along side his sentient inventions. And will try to bring it up in any conversation.

- The whole wallet photo gag of him showing family pictures. You love this silly turtle but, usually lightly pinch his face if its the wrong time for that.

He lights up whenever his kid goes to him for any sort of question.

- He slightly restrains himself to avoid going overboard with the answer. But, his kid is smart enough to know that and sometimes tells you that he's not being himself again.

Cannot force himself to sleep unless you're beside him. (or if you have to drag him to bed yourself)

- The few times where he woke up while you were still sleeping. He always gives you a light hug and a kiss on the forehead before getting out of bed.

He subtly took interest in one of your hobbies. (Either an ongoing or a new one) Just so he can step away from a tedious project that was going nowhere and not bother you with the boring details about it.

- Sometimes mentioning a fun fact to impress you.

You gave into his idea of letting your kid have a similar weapon like Casey Jr's.

- Only when they reached their 13th birthday and learning the basics of: constructing it and fixing parts along side their dad. How to use it defensively, offensively, and etc.

Mikey

Considering how his future self had some hair on his head, he kept it long so he can do a few matching embarrassing baby photos to his kid.

- Like giving the kid a tiny ponytail and etc. He definitely cried a bit while having his signature grin when the kid pulled too hard on his hair, laughing at one of his jokes. And you had to step in to help him.

He knows how to work around some of his kid's picky eating habits. Usually making sure his kid is having fun or decorating the plate in an artistic manner.

- However, there are times when the kid can hide the veggie or fruit out of plain sight. Or his kid asks his uncles for help when Mikey's focused on some other thing.

Absolutely does that peek-a-boo trick with hiding his face or whole body into his shell.

- He was nervous at first, if the trick might have scared his kid but, no the kid was giggling. Curiously crawling towards him in awe of it.

Will sometimes make meals ahead of time. (often being, if you returned from work, too exhausted to greet him)

- Either leaving a note on a plastic container in the fridge of: [(Y/N)'s breakfast: DO NOT EAT unless you want an surprise session with Dr Delicate Touch </3] (this also applies to lunch as well)

On very rare occasions, he will temporary wear a cloaking brooch. If you're at an area isn't very friendly towards mutants and/or yokai.

- The one time that happened, is when you forgot to bring your lunch at a job that barely lasted a week. (Stuff that was out of your control but, he was relieved that you got out of that place before your coworkers decided to physically fight back at the manager)

Spends at least one day in the week with you to do some light meditative exercises.

- On the really bad days, he doesn't mind letting you hold his hand as a stress ball or just have a quiet moment to relax while his brothers babysit your kid.

[halfmoth-halfman]

iv. the night was young (and so were we)

Pairing: Mob Boss!Price x F!Reader Word Count: 4.6k Warnings: alcohol, drunken karaoke, medical inaccuracies, wound descriptions Disclaimer: I do not own modern warfare or any of the modern warfare characters. A/N: i'm so sorry for this being late, things have been kind of exhausting, but good news is i hit some inspiration and have half of the next chapter already written so it should be out much quicker! thank you guys for being patient with me! prev | next

Unable to sleep, you’re up and ready first thing in the morning. You take better care to clean and rewrap your hand, making a small mental note to restock the bandages in your first-aid kit as soon as you can.

You make it to the club an hour early and less than excited to start clean-up from the previous night’s events. You don’t bother walking to the front, heading straight for the back door as you sort through your mental checklist of chores.

You’ll start with the kitchen; it’s the least you can do if you plan on asking Rudy to look at your hand. You hadn’t been paying attention to which racks you’d knocked over during your struggle, but you don’t think it's more than you can handle cleaning.

Warm air hits your face as you swing the door open, walking into the kitchen, ready to work.

A sharp whistle echoes through the kitchen, and you startle, not expecting anyone to be here this early. Your eyes dart up, ready to look for the source of the whistle, but you catch the shine from one of the countertops and realize:

The kitchen is spotless, not a single thing out of place as every surface sparkles and shines.

Valeria leans against one of those shining counters, polishing a set of knives as Rudy and Alejandro loudly sort through the ingredient racks behind her.

They don’t seem to have noticed you as you quietly step further into the kitchen.

You get two steps closer to her when Valeria speaks, “Heard you put on quite the show.” She doesn’t look up from the set of knives, setting the newly polished one aside and plucking another from the unclean pile.

“Wouldn’t call it a show,” you mutter, joining her at the counter.

“No?” She shoots you a quick glance, brow raised, and mouth pulled into a slight smirk. “That’s not what Laswell says.”

“It wasn’t much,” you shrug. “All it took was some creative storytelling and a few tears.”

Valeria scoffs, muttering a quiet, “Of course.” She finishes polishing and sets the knife aside, folding and laying the cloth on top. She turns to face you, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning with her hip against the counter. Her eyes drop down over your clothes, lingering on your bandaged hand for a moment before traveling back up to your face.

“Laswell said she got there late—that they already had you in interrogation when she arrived.” Valeria tilts her head, eyes never leaving yours.

“For a few minutes,” you nod. Valeria hums, nodding along in seeming sympathy, but her eyes convey anything but. A small chill prickles its way up your spine under her intense gaze.

“Sounds like a quick conversation,” Valeria says offhandedly, but you hear the underlying question.

What did they tell you?

What did you tell them?

You take the suspicion in stride, a small huff of laughter escaping your lips. Valeria's brows raise, almost offended at your nerve to laugh at her.

“If you count being talked at with some patronizing spiel about how I need their protection, a conversation, then sure.”

“Their protection,” Valeria scoffs quietly. “From what?”

“My big, bad boss and his apparent gang of ne’er-do-wells,” you huff with a roll of your eyes and add, a bit indignantly, “Like I even need their help. I can protect myself just fine.”

“I can see that.” Valeria glances down at your hand again. She meets your eyes, staring you down for a few seconds longer. You match her gaze with a small smile and tension lining your shoulders.

I’m not a threat. You don’t need to worry.

Valeria looks away first, returning to her knives with a dismissive wave. You feel like you should say more, add something to try and convince her you don’t intend to harm the club.

You take a moment, trying to find the right words, “I—”

“Look who’s here!” Alejandro and Rudy finally spot you, leaving the ingredient racks behind to join you and Valeria at the counter. Alejandro passes her with a quick touch to her back and a small kiss to the top of her head that she clicks her tongue at, walking up to clap you on the back. Rudy hangs back, waiting on the opposite side of Valeria and watching you with a polite smile.

“We were wondering when you’d show up,” Alejandro laughs.

“I thought I’d come in early, y’know? Get a head start on cleaning up the kitchen after what happened,” you smile back at him.

“Don’t worry about that; we’ve got it covered!” Alejandro nods to Rudy, sending him a wink that you almost miss.

“I appreciate it,” you say, and Alejandro gives your shoulder a gentle squeeze. “I should probably start on the bar then—”

“Bar’s already done,” Rudy cuts in. “Couple of the boys took care of it already.”

“Oh.”

You hadn’t been expecting that. Sure, you figured the others might’ve helped a little or found someone to lift the things too heavy for you, but you didn’t think they’d clean the entire place themselves.

“Well—” you turn to Rudy, setting your hands gently atop the counter, ”—I hope you won’t mind if I ask you for a favor, then?” His brows knit together in confusion as you raise your bandaged hand, wiggling your fingers at him in a little wave. “Price said to have you take a look at this?”

His eyes widen in surprise as he nods, “Yeah, come on.” He steps back from the counter as Alejandro disappears into the back and returns with a small bag for Rudy and a metal folding chair for you. You thank him, sitting down as Rudy goes through the bag. He pulls out a small black roll that unravels into a kit of various scalpels, tweezers, needles, and scissors.

“What happened?” Rudy asks, stepping away to wash his hands before putting on a pair of disposable gloves.

“The cops do that to you?” Alejandro questions, stern gaze set on your hand.

“No, I got scraped up when I crawled through the broken glass behind the bar. Then…” You glance over your shoulder to where Valeria polishes the knives, your gaze settling on the silver of the blades.

“You alright, avecita?” Alejandro asks softly.

“Someone grabbed me from behind,” you sigh. “I didn’t see who it was, but they slammed me into the counter, so I grabbed the closest weapon I could find. Didn’t mean to grab it by the blade, but it worked well enough.” You turn back to Rudy, who’s staring at you with something akin to pity.

“You did good,” Rudy mumbles, holding a gloved hand out to you. You set your hand in his, palm up, and he begins unwrapping the bandages. It stings slightly as the gauze pulls at the blood that’s started to scab along the edges, but you keep your hand still for him. Rudy hums as he sees the wound in its entirety; it’s nothing too severe—a good slice across the palm and a few minor cuts around it—but your skin is red and starting to swell.

“Good news is it doesn’t look like any glass is stuck in your skin,” Rudy explains, slightly turning your hand.

“And the bad news?”

“Cleaning it will probably hurt. A lot.”

Your left shoulder pangs in a soft ache.

“Can’t hurt worse than being body slammed onto a counter,” you joke. You get a small laugh from Rudy and even a little huff from Valeria behind you. Rudy momentarily lets go of your hand to get whatever he needs to clean your cuts, so you turn to Alejandro.

“Why would you think the cops did this?” you ask.

“The Chief’s got a hard-on for Price, and he tends to look the other way if his boys get a little too rough,” Alejandro explains, the malice in his voice as apparent as the frown that pulls at his mouth.

You feel Rudy grip your hand again and keep your eyes trained on Alejandro.

“The Chief?” you ask, thinking back to your walk through the station. Your mind immediately travels to the officer in the different uniform—the one who’d yelled at Soap. “The bald guy?”

“Shephard,” Alejandro spits.

Rudy wipes something soft and wet across your palm, and the following sting instantly shoots up your arm. You sink your teeth into your cheek, waiting for the pain to dull to a manageable point.

“What’s he got against Price?” You grind the question out as Rudy continues, fighting the urge to pull your hand away.

“Nothing reasonable,” Valeria scoffs.

“They worked together before the club opened,” Alejandro explains. “Something went down between them, and Shepherd’s had it out for him ever since.”

“Something went—ow, fuck—something went down? Like what?”

“Don’t know,” Alejandro shrugs, “but whatever it was, it was bad.”

You try to think back to your father’s old visitors—his war buddies, business partners, and informants. You don’t remember the name Shepherd, not even as a codename. And none of his seemingly endless stories about Price and the 141 ever mentioned him.

“Alright,” Rudy says, releasing your hand again, “The biggest cut will probably need a few stitches, but everything else should be fine. I’ll rewrap your hand, and you’ll have to keep the area dry for at least 48 hours. After that, water should be fine, just don’t soak it, and we’ll look at how you’re doing in a week or so.”

You nod, hand now numb from the pain of the disinfectant, “Whatever you say, Doc.” Rudy raises a brow at you, and you respond with a teasing smile.

Alejandro leaves Rudy to his work, continuing whatever they had been doing with the ingredient racks while Valeria works silently behind you.

You let your mind wander back to Shepherd, wondering where you could have met him. He didn’t seem familiar to you. You doubt your father would have known him, but you can’t imagine him not wanting to keep tabs on someone who wanted to take down the 141 as much as he did.

Or maybe it wasn’t your father who knew him. It could’ve been—

A shiver travels up your spine.

If he knew Shepherd, you definitely didn’t want to get involved.

-

True to his word, Rudy takes your stitches out a week later, pleased with how well you’ve healed. He wraps your hand again, this time with a cold, medicinal cream slathered over your palm. You ask him for extra bandages, telling him it’s for your own first-aid kit, and he’s kind enough to give you an unopened box with enough rolls of gauze to keep you stocked for months.

The dynamic shifts after that first week.

Kyle remains friendly as ever and always happy to speak with you. Soap and Alex are a little friendlier, inviting you to join their conversations before your shift and letting you play music over the speakers while you work.

On the rare occasions they’re there at the same time as you, Roach and König will join you for lunch, sitting on the edge of the stage with you and sharing snacks. You learn that Roach and König are roommates, living in a large flat with a third bedroom that’s meant for König’s boyfriend, who travels for several months out of the year.

You’re invited to visit during open hours more often, Alex saving you a seat at the bar next to Nik, where you have the perfect view of Farah as she croons into the microphone. Valeria even manages to convince you to join a few poker games; she never lets you win, of course, but she also goes out of her way to make sure you beat everyone else at the table.

Even Ghost doesn’t seem to watch you as much. He still doesn’t speak to you but seems more tolerant of your presence. You’ve never been one to look a gift horse in the mouth, so you take what you can get.

You see Price around the club more after that first week as well. It’s usually in passing, you working your way around the club and him mostly coming and going from his office, but he always goes out of his way to stop and say hi. You try not to overthink it, but it’s hard not to notice his hand lingering a few seconds too long on your shoulder and how those brilliant blue eyes follow you around the room when he doesn’t think you’re looking.

Do not get involved with your boss, you scold yourself.

Unfortunately, you’ve never been good at taking your advice.

Two months after what has been dubbed The Hassan Incident, Kyle, Soap, and Alex catch you at the end of the day, calling you over to the bar just as you’re about to leave.

“We’re going out tonight,” Kyle grins as you walk up the steps.

“And you’re coming with us!” Soap laughs, throwing an arm around your shoulder to pull you into his side.

“Going out where?” you ask, pulling yourself from under Soap’s arm.

“A couple other clubs,” Alex explains, “Boss says it’s good to get out and survey the competition.”

“And he knows we could all use the night off,” Kyle adds, grin sliding into something more teasing. The other two laugh—a joke you aren't in on.

“I appreciate the invite, but clubs aren’t my thing,” you say, offering an apologetic smile.

“Whaddaya mean? You’re here almost every other night!” Soap asks, nudging you in the side with his elbow.

“That’s not the same—”

“Don’t be a downer, come with us!”

“Everyone’s gonna be there!”

“You’ll have a great time, we promise!”

You groan, throwing your hands up in defeat. “Fine! Fine.” The guys cheer, Soap and Alex high-fiving over the bar. You roll your eyes, no actual malice behind it, giving the three a pointed look, “But you three are paying for my drinks.”

And in unison, they say, “Done.”

-

Surveying the competition turns out to be code for going on a club crawl and getting obscenely drunk.

You lose track after the third or fourth club, trying to manage your alcohol intake and matching every drink you’re given with a glass of water. It works for the most part, leaving you just drunk enough to let loose and have a little fun.

While the rest of your little gang spends their time at the bars, Soap and Kyle wear you out, making it their mission to get you to dance at every club your group visits. You spend the few moments of reprieve with Alex, Farah, and Valeria. You dance with Farah and Valeria a few times, Alex politely declining as he lifts one of his pant legs to show part of an impressive silver prosthetic.

“Wasn’t much of a dancer before, but now it’s like I have two left feet,” he laughs. Instead, he keeps an eye on Farah and your drinks, praising your moves when the three of your return to the table.

By the night's end, Soap and Kyle have succeeded in their mission, and you’re exhausted enough to miss the lumpy mattress of your motel room. You think the others are starting to come down too, but someone suggests karaoke, and all hell breaks loose.

You follow everyone out of the club—was it number seven or eight?—sandwiched between Roach and Alejandro as the group walks toward their next destination.

“Doin’ awrite, Goose?” Soap calls back to you, leaning heavily onto Ghost, who looks unbelievably annoyed but refuses to move his arm from around Soap’s waist.

“Are you?” you laugh, taking in the way the Scot stumbles and struggles to keep pace with Ghost.

“Aye,” Soap slurs, leaning into Ghost’s side. “Ah'm jus’ great.” The others snicker, equally as uncoordinated and intoxicated.

The walk isn’t long, crossing a few streets before things start to look familiar to you. You recognize a street sign, then a shop, and finally, realize where you’re headed when you turn the corner and see the club sitting across the street.

“You guys have karaoke?” you ask no one in particular.

“Sort of,” Kyle says, smiling wide as he slows his stride to loop his arm through yours. “You’ll see, come on.”

The gang enters the club, pushing tables together in front of the stage while Price, Nik, and Alex start grabbing bottles from behind the bar. You help where you can, moving chairs until they’re arranged around the rows of tables all facing the stage and holding a cable for Roach while he sets up a single mic on stage.

“Gaz yer f’rst!” Soap yells, handing Kyle a full shot glass and shoving him towards the stage. Kyle downs it easily, hopping onto the stage, and everyone finds a seat. You reach for yours, but the chair pulls out before you can get it. Price stands behind it with a small smile, gesturing for you to sit down.

You’ll blame the sudden flush of your cheeks on the alcohol.

“Thanks,” you nod, sitting down. Price walks off but returns a moment late, and Kyle checks the mic with two glasses in hand, setting the one full of ice and clear liquid in front of you. “Oh, I’m not—”

“It’s water,” Price laughs, and you sigh in relief. You take a generous sip, savoring the cold as it travels down your throat.

You turn to thank him, but you’re interrupted by the sudden blast of music and a chorus of cheers and shouts from the rest of the club.

Kyle stands center stage, phone in hand so he can read the lyrics to his song, and takes the next three minutes to deliver an unforgettable—and slurred—performance of The Pina Colada song that has you loudly cheering. He receives a standing ovation when he’s done, bowing and jumping down from the stage. He takes the seat next to you, thanking you for your praises as Soap clambers up on stage, Ghost hovering nearby and ready to help at a moment’s notice.

His rendition of I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles) is dedicated to Ghost and has the rest of you dying in your seats from laughter and singing clumsily along.

After Soap, an excited Alejandro and less enthusiastic Rudy sing a duet of Me Gustas Tu that is equally sweet and enjoyable.

Soap goes again, pulling Ghost on stage to sing Tequila with him. It’s mostly Soap dancing and holding the mic up to a silent Ghost. It’s funny enough, but during the final chorus, Ghost sighs and reluctantly grumbles a quiet tequila into the mic. Everyone goes wild, but none more so than Soap, who rewards Ghost with a kiss on his masked cheek before taking off back toward the bar. Ghost follows him, eyes trained on the ground to keep anyone from seeing the sudden blossoming of red across his face.

Nik takes Soap’s place with a surprisingly lovely voice that has your full attention until a set of hands slam down onto your shoulders. You jump, nearly knocking your glass over, but Price and Kyle jump into action and catch the glass before it can tip.

“Y’ready t’ sing, Duck?” Soap asks, leaning forward and crushing his cheek against yours.

“I’m not singing,” you laugh, gently trying to guide Soap away from you.

“Sure y’ are!” Soap laughs, louder than necessary. “Came here t’ sing, s’now yer gonna sing! Picked yer song an’ ev’rythin’!” Soap gives you a slightly rough pat on the cheek, walking away before you can argue.

“No,” you say, looking between Price and Kyle for help, “I am not singing.”

“Sounds like you are,” Kyle chuckles.

“You’re the boss,” you whine, nudging Price in the arm. “Tell him I’m not going up there.”

Price leans back in his chair, staring down at you with a smirk that looks too damn good on him. “Consider it your audition.” Kyle chokes down a laugh behind you as your mouth drops open and Nik’s song comes to an end.

“Awrite, get up ‘ere, hen!” Soap shouts into the mic, pointing directly at you. The others cheer and clap, all eyes trained on you.

“I hate both of you,” you mutter to Price and Kyle. You pluck Price’s glass from his hands, downing the rest of the drink and allowing the whiskey to burn down your throat and spread liquid courage through your veins before making your way up to the stage. Soap hands you his phone, a song already paused on the screen, and disappears off the stage.

The sooner this is over, the sooner you can go home.

You hit play, surprised when the first few notes echo across the club.

You know this song.

You’ve played it for him and Alex a few times before, mentioning that it was one of your favorites, but you hadn’t expected either of them to remember that.

You know the words, and you’re already up here, alcohol and adrenaline humming through your bones.

Might as well.

You squeeze your eyes shut, forcing out any images of crowds of black suits and too-tight dresses and crescent-shaped scars sitting high on the cheekbone.

You’re safe here.

Go for it.

You sing the first few notes, beginning softly and letting your courage build up. And once it does, you give the performance of a lifetime. You’re a little too drunk to dance, so you stick to the mic belting out each note with everything you’ve got, not even needing to look at the lyrics. It’s somehow the longest and shortest three minutes of your life, and you absolutely kill it, fueled by your nerves and the uproar of applause as you hit the final chorus.

The song ends drowned out by the drunken cheers of your co-workers and, dare you say, friends. You give a short bow, walking to the edge of the stage to return to your seat.

A gentle, warm hand wraps around yours. You look to the sudden grasp and find Price standing in front of the stage, your hand in his as he helps you down the dip of the stage.

“Quite the performance,” he murmurs, eyes never leaving yours. He doesn’t pull away, keeping your hand loosely in his.

“The extra drink helped,” you joke, wrapping your hand around his and giving it a soft squeeze.

You pull away, and he lets you go, stepping back to allow you past him so you can return to your table. Kyle, Soap, and Ghost are waiting for you, the former two clapping you on the back and offering you congratulatory drinks. Ghost tips his head in a slight nod that feels far more personal than anything you’ve ever gotten from him.

You accept the drinks, throwing all caution to the wind as König takes the stage.

The rest of the night passes with far more fun than you’ve had in years. You cut yourself off and sober up enough to drive yourself back to the motel after making sure everyone else was taken care of—a gesture Price and Ghost seemed very thankful for.

You collapse onto your bed, only bothering to remove your shoes, and are out the moment you land on the hard mattress.

-

You manage to get to the club early the next morning, splurging on a cheap coffee from the gas station and a pair of novelty sunglasses to keep the blaring sun out of your eyes. The cashier says nothing but gives you a sympathetic smile and tells you to keep your change. You thank her, sliding the too-pink strawberry-shaped shades over your eyes as you return to your car. You drive slowly, being extra cautious with the visor down to keep as much sun out of your eyes as possible.

After parking, you take a few minutes to collect yourself, sipping from your burnt coffee. It takes some effort, and a small pep talk to yourself, to get you out of the car.

“Fuck this,” you hiss as the bright rays of light immediately beat down on your face. You lock your car, heading straight for the back door and into the thankfully dim kitchen. It’s a slow trek to the main room, your mind throbbing with thoughts about which corner you could hide in to take a quick nap.

You don’t think anyone would mind.

Really, you’d be surprised if they showed up for the day; most of them had been in a state far worse than you when you’d left.

You’re halfway across the room when a door clicks open behind you, and you hear, “Canary, come here!”

You groan, holding your head as you slowly turn around. The best you can muster is a frown at whoever’s just shouted and is now laughing very loudly at you as you slog over to the office doors. You slide your sunglasses up, looking at Kyle’s beaming face with pure exhaustion written on your own.

“Rough night?”

“Fuck off.”

Kyle lets out a laugh that has you gripping your head, pushing past him into the office. Any other time you’d welcome the rich smell of Price’s office, but your hangover has fucked over your senses, and it takes everything in you to not vomit on the carpet.

A low whistle echoes through the office and burrows straight through your ears.

“And I thought Soap looked rough,” Price chuckles from behind his desk. You send him your fiercest glare, taking a long sip from your coffee with your middle finger strategically placed along the cup. “Is that how you treat the man who signs your paychecks?”

“You don’t even know how much you’re paying me,” you huff, flopping gracelessly into one of the chairs in front of his desk.

“How much is that again?” Kyle laughs, taking the seat next to you.

“Not enough,” you mutter into your coffee cup.

“Good thing we’re here to discuss your pay then, isn’t it?” Price asks. Your gaze shoots up to him, brows raising as a spike of anxiety jolts through you.

“Please don’t fire me while I’m hungover. I might throw up on your desk.” The words tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them, but you’re too worried to feel embarrassed.

“Least she’s honest, yeah?” Price laughs to Kyle. He leans back in his chair, a broad smile on his face. “Alex and Farah are going on vacation.”

“O…kay?” Your brows knit together, confused as you look between Price and Kyle, who’s doing a poor job at hiding a suspiciously devious grin.

“In the meantime, the club will need a singer.”

You flounder, unable to form words as you’re already off-kilter brain tries to understand what’s happening.

Gaz nudges your arm, “You did say you wanted to sing here.”

“Our new Songbird,” Price adds softly.

“Uh, yeah. Yes! That—that would be…amazing.” You barely get the words out, trying to contain your excitement, fluster, and every other burst of emotion you’re feeling. “When do I start?”

“You’ll rehearse with Farah in the weeks leading up to her leaving and take over after she’s gone,” Price explains, turning to Kyle. “Have Valeria get her fitted. Today, preferably.”

Kyle nods, pulling out his phone and standing from his chair. He holds a hand out to you, not looking up from the screen.

“Better go before Valeria gets too busy,” Price smirks. You take the hint and grab Kyle’s hand as he helps you up. He walks ahead of you, holding the door open for you.

“And Gaz!” Price calls as you pass through his office doors. “Get her a phone!”

“Will do!”

taglist: @sleepyendymion, @blazedprince, @blueoorchid, @ohgodthebogisback, @melancholyy-hill, @wasteland-babe, @meepetteoneonly, @anitaebee, @honeyr4ven, @curasimp, @jxvipike, @frazie99, @reiya-djarin, @urfavsunkissedleo, @hauntingtherosebush, @aerangi, @ofmenanduhhhwellmen, @warners-wife, @xx4rcticxx, @mundane-frogola, @marytvirgin, @nyooom, @gogh-with-the-flow, @arctic-writes, @thriving-n-jiving, @deadpoetsandhoney

[bradshawed]

Masterchef ft. Mama Seresin

summary — ladies first. it’s chick’s turn to wow jake and she’s scrambling all over the place to get the perfect night together with the help of bob and a rooster sized distraction

warnings — no use of y/n, female reader, fluff, mild cursing, bobby being a sweetheart <3 and rooster being a cockblock

word count — 1k words

Chick’s an anxious sweetheart determined to win and Jake’s Jake (I feel like that sums it up pretty well). Sometimes things might not entirely go according to plan or they may need a little help from the squad but that’s okay. It’s how their family works, they’ve got each other’s backs.

This wasn’t how I’d planned to start off the series and some of it may seem a little out of order but that’s sort of how they work. Hope you all like it and them and feel free to drop in any thoughts or ideas of your own that you’d love me to write for them xx

the love olympics masterlist.

Fuck. The time on the oven inched closer to half past seven and the peach cobbler had only just been placed in the oven. You were a flour covered mess and your kitchen counters weren’t looking any better, although it seemed that Bob had avoided the brunt of the explosion. Panic had officially set in as Jake could walk through the door any moment and there was still so much to be done.

Bob, sensing your panic, placed a calming hand on your shoulder, wiping a smudge of flour from your cheek as your body collapsed against his. “You go get ready, I’ll clean up the kitchen and check on Jake’s status and we can set the table together.”

“Are-are you sure? You don’t have to do all this, you’ve done plenty already Robby I-”

“I did it because I want to, and that was an order Chick, go get ready.” You raised an unconvinced eyebrow at the man who’d quickly become a brother figure to you, “Go, you seriously need a shower.”

“Okay, okay I’m going. Thank you for your help, I really couldn’t have done it without you.” You thanked him with a flour covered kiss on the cheek before bounding up the stairs to get your much needed shower.

By the time you’d put on Jake’s your favourite sundress, the kitchen had been cleared, the table set and candles lit, illuminating the room in a soft orangey glow.

There was a note in Bob’s soft cursive sitting next to the oven with little instructions and an apology for looking through your things to find the candles which you really hadn’t minded one bit. He’d signed off the letter with his usual signature adding a small ps on the end mentioning that Jake might be a little late. You chose not to question it as you sat down on the couch waiting for the aviator in question to arrive.

A soft knock came from the door and you scrambled to find the remote to turn off the tv. Nearly falling over yourself in an effort to reach him, you collected yourself for a moment before opening the door with a shaky breath. There he stood dressed in an emerald green shirt to match his gorgeous eyes and black slacks, holding out a beautiful bouquet filled with your favourite flowers.

“Hi.”

“Hey.”

You smiled up at him shyly as you accepted the bouquet with a kiss on the cheek, welcoming him inside before he could make one of his usual smart ass comments.

Jake was stunned into silence at the aroma that filled your small house, his feet (once void of his shoes) carried him straight to the kitchen like he was five again in his childhood home.

“Dee- is that-?”

You gently took his hand in yours, bringing him closer to the dishes, as you moved to plate the dinner you’d prepared with Bob’s help.

Bringing the dishes to the table with Jake trailing behind you like a puppy carrying the beers diligently, you felt a nervous pit in the bottom of your stomach. Whether it had been brought on by his reaction or the fact that it was him, you couldn’t tell, but it caused you to wring your hands together once you’d sat down after Jake had kindly pulled your chair out for you.

“You know Chick, I wasn’t expecting this for the first round. It’s not bad but I could definitely show you a thing or two to make it better.”

Jake had flipped back into himself almost immediately while you were both eating. The conversation flowed naturally as you asked each other about anything and everything. You weren’t quite sure what caused it or if you were glad to have that part of him back but it did ease your nerves. This you could do, this was comfortable, it was natural, just one more surprise left, you could do this.

“Don’t worry cowboy, I have plenty of tricks up my sleeve.” You quipped before standing up to retrieve the plates. Jake however, stopped you, taking them in for you while you led the way to the kitchen to plate up dessert.

A pair of arms came to wrap around your waist, trapping you between himself and the counter. “Sorry I was late darlin’ Rooster was being weird and kept stalling for something.”

“Stalling? I’ll have a talk with him later, ask him what’s up.” You had a few ideas, possibly one involving a certain aviator making a phone call to check on Jake’s eta, a phone call you’re guessing went straight to Bradley. You were gonna have to bake something to thank them both.

You entangled yourself out of Jake’s arms carrying the plates to the couch, refusing to let him help you. His pout however, was quickly erased at the first bite to which he let out what sounded like a moan.

“Fuck this is so good! It tastes exactly like my momma’s recipe. Where the hell did you get this from?”

“Made it, from scratch, with Bob’s help..” A smirk creeped up onto your face, “the recipe, I got from Evelyn.”

Jake froze with his spoon halfway to his mouth. “You talked to my mom?” A giggle escaped you as Jake wrapped his arms around your body pressing you into the couch, “No wonder everything tastes so good.” You let a shout of protest at that.

“And you call yourself a momma’s boy but you can’t even tell your mother’s recipes. Shame on you Jacob Thomas Seresin.”

His signature mischievous smile creeped up onto his handsome face, “Oh, you’re gonna get it now sweetheart.” His fingers began to tickle you, your yellow sundress beginning to ride up as you giggled and tried to squirm away from him, begging for him to stop.

Laughter subsided as his movements began to slow down, both of you realising the position you were in causing your faces to heat up. That’s of course, when Bradley decides to walk into your house ranting about how Bob owes him a huge favour.

He pauses, squealing, as he slaps a hand on his eyes, “Are you both decent?”

feel free to ask to be added to the tag list!

tags; @waklman @sematarygirls @djs8891 @genius2050 @dempy

[chillychive]

Having so much brain rot abt teacher Mumscarian so I’m gonna throw it at you lovely citizens of the inter webs:

- Grian is the part time art teacher who subs a lot at the school.

- Mumbo is the tech teacher who everyone is a little afraid of before they get to know him and realize he’s just a tall, intimidating goofball.

- Scar is an architect who is known for 2 things: Amazing architecture and his cat who he manages to mention in every single conversation regardless of topic. You could be talking to him about geothermal heating and he’d find a way to work in Jellie in something that made complete sense in the moment but was utterly bewildering upon reflection.

I accidentally wrote a fic, so here you go!:

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Grian sighed, heading to the main office to check his mailbox after a long day. He passed his sister, Pearl’s desk, on the way and paused.

It was utterly wrecked, piles and piles of papers decorating it. She was so stressed out at dinner last night…

He sat down. She could owe him for this one. He sorted through the papers, finishing the easy ones and making neat piles of the rest.

It was nearly 9 now, he was going to be late for dinner, but he knew Mumbo was finishing up some work- a student had wrecked their project in the rain by accident so he was painstakingly assembling a replica for them so they didn’t fail the class- so he wouldn’t be home for a while, either.

Mumbo’s love for his students was a big part of what Grian loved about him- it was hardly the first time Mumbo had gone far, far out of his way to help one of them- once he actually drove all the way to a student’s house to talk them through a project that would make or break their grade after they called him crying.

Partially to distract himself and partially to annoy Mumbo, Grian pressed the button on the intercom. Everyone would be out of the building by now, so he wasn’t worried about annoying anyone.

“Main office to Mumbo Jumbo, how are you, dearest?”

It only took a couple seconds for Mumbo’s reply. “Grian?! How-“ Grian could hear Mumbo’s smile in his voice, “You almost made me drop the whole project! I’d have to start from scratch!”

Grian laughed. “Sorry…”

“No you’re not.”

“Nope!” Grian grinned into the mic, squinting at the page in front of him. “Did you go to the assembly today?”

“Yep… had to go to the first one and the third.”

“The presenter was so hot.”

Mumbo laughed. “Seriously, the man was way too attractive for his own good.”

“And his cat was the cutest.”

“No, the cutest was how much he loved her.”

Grian grinned. “Okay, you’ve got me there. And his eyes, too.”

“What about them? I wasn’t close enough to see.”

“They were like this really vibrant shade of green- I’ve literally never seen someone with that color eyes before- and it perfectly complemented his suit too- I wondered about the maroon until I saw his eyes…”

Grian slowed his ramble, and Mumbo clearly noticed but didn’t say anything.

“Anyway, yeah, he was so hot.”

Mumbo laughed. “I’m nearly done here, but I have a lot of clean up to do, so I’m gonna go for a bit.”

“Okay! I’m just tidying in the office, so I’ll be here when you’re done.”

“Love you, Gri.” Mumbo said over the intercom, and Grian grinned, turning it off with a quick “Love you too.”

—-

Grian had finished cleaning Pearl’s desk and had moved on to his own papers when he was interrupted by the door opening.

“Ready to head home, babe?” He asked, not looking up.

Someone cleared their throat. “Sorry, just wanted to let you know I’m leaving…”

Well that definitely wasn’t Mumbo. Grian looked up.

“Oh.” His face was definitely burning. “I- sorry, can I help you?”

The man in front of him- a taller guy in a wheelchair, wearing a maroon suit with a cat snuggled into his lap. Grian drew his eyes up to his face, which was currently doing it’s best to color match the suit, to meet those startling green eyes.

“I’m Scar.” The man offered, rolling toward the desk. “Do I need to sign anything or can I just go?”

Scar’s voice was smooth, but his red face betrayed how flustered he was.

“Nope!” Grian squeaked.

“Hear that, Jellie? Time to go.”

Grian watched Scar’s rapidly retreating chair, cursing his bravery for what he was about to do. “Wait! There is something I need you to sign.”

Scar’s head turned quickly. In moments, he was in front of the desk again. Grian shoved the paper he had just written at him.

Scar read it, eyebrows raised. “This is a… non-disclosure agreement?”

“So you don’t tell everyone about what you overheard.” Grian explained, blushing.

Scar’s face stretched into a classic salesman smile. “Oh, but what if I want to tell someone?” He rolled closer. “I can think of a few things I’d like to say.”

Grian, stupidly, raised his chin at this. “Oh yeah?”

“How about, ‘Are you single?’” Scar asked, equally confident.

Grian frowned, pretending to ponder the question. He leaned forward, face inches from Scar’s. “I suppose that wouldn’t be a breach of contract…”

“Perfect.” Scar breathed. Grian started to lean in. Scar sat back in his chair, teasingly. “And what about the other fine fellow on the line? Would it be imprudent to ask about him as well?”

“Oh, not at all!” Grian grinned, sitting back in his seat. “In fact, I could call him right now, see if he has any objections to our little contract.”

“I think that would be quite appropriate.”

Grian turned on the intercom. “Mumbo Jumbo to the main office?” He turned it off again, leaving no room for Mumbo to protest.

“And now, would it be a breach of contract to suggest, say, dinner?” Scar asked, eyes gleaming.

“Actually, Mumbo and I are going for dinner soon… any objections to Thai?”

“That sounds amay-zing!”

It was that moment that Mumbo walked into the main office, tugging a backpack on wheels behind him. Mumbo stopped in the doorway seeing Scar. Behind Scar’s back, he mouthed to Grian “He’s been here the whole time?!”

“Ready to go?” Grian replied, standing and gathering his things. “We have a date.”

“Sorry, what?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[dr-trafalgar-law]

Trafalgar Law X CisFem Reader

1

The rich scent of coffee percolated through the small apartment kitchen. Preferring to keep the room dark only the tiny light above the stove was left on. The sun had yet to rise and judging by the pattering against the window above the sink it wouldn't matter anyway.

Bringing the hardly sweetened liquid to his lips Law did his best to keep anxious thoughts away. Usually these consisted of work related topics, things he needed to get done when he arrived at the hospital or patients that took priority. This particular morning you were prominent.

He thought back to a night in November. At the time you had been matched for a month and had very recently moved in together. He had been opposed to all of this arranged marriage nonsense from childhood. Forcing people to be together for procreation didn't seem healthy mentally. But the alternative was prison, so most people just went with it.

Then he met you and discovered how similarly you operated so he decided to learn more. You had been pretty forthcoming with your reluctance, almost offensively so. You also felt the need to explain that you had a previous relationship that ended abruptly because of the law and obviously weren't dealing with it in a healthy way.

That week you stayed late at the shop every night working on different orders. When he did see you, you were practically vibrating with nervous energy. So, the nightly ritual of visiting the shop started, at least until that Friday. When he had announced he was coming to the shop you told him you'd meet him at home, which you did arriving at the same time. Even in the chilly humid air he thought he caught the scent of cologne as you passed, chalking it up to the hoodie you must have borrowed from a coworker, as he had never seen it before. After showering you shared the meal he'd brought from the hospital. You didn't say much but somehow seemed at ease especially considering the project you had been working on. Perhaps finishing the cakes provided some sort of closure? No, Law couldn't be that naive. Something definitely happened, something you didn't want to share. However, at the time he wasn't compelled to press you for information. He wasn't sure that even now after nearly four months you'd come clean. It wasn't like you had grown any closer as a couple, and he didn't know if you ever would.

His ears perked hearing your bedroom door softly open and shut behind you. Finally, the smell of coffee had made it to your room inviting you into the kitchen. You rounded the corner in an old purple shirt with the collar cut out, so it hung off your left shoulder, a pair of black leggings and mismatched knee-high socks.

His silver eyes roamed over the dip of your exposed shoulder before swaying up to your yawning face. It amused him that from day one you had no problem looking like a straight up mess in front of him. Perhaps it was because you weren't interested or maybe you just weren't like other girls. No woman he'd ever slept with dared to be seen without makeup.

You wore makeup as well, but it was always tastefully done. Law had surprised himself finding that he preferred you without, he liked the very light olive toned semicircles under your eyes and the natural hue of your lips so much so that on occasion you caught him staring. Being unaware of this preference and very aware of his constant stern expression, you had not thought about the attention being out of attraction.

"Morning." You yawned again running your fingers through your tangled hair.

"F/N-ya." Your fiancé nodded bringing his cup back to his lips.

"Top you off?" you asked pulling your mug from the cupboard not bothering to turn on the lights.

"Big order this week?" Law asked leaning back to hand you his cup.

"No, just couldn't sleep. There isn't much going on today I might just stay here and get some things done." Now that you'd said more he noticed your voice was a bit hoarse.

He hummed turning to let his eyes trail over you, even in the dim yellow light of the stove your skin seemed pale and clammy. Carefully he watched you fix his cup of coffee with shaky hands and move on to your own. The shadows under your eyes had deepened slightly, it was probably nothing, but no one would die if he asked.

"Are you feeling alright?"

"Yes doctor," you smirked handing his cup over, "just a restless night is all."

"Then It's best if you stay home." He affirmed sipping the strong brew.

Somehow it was always better when you made it, though you did it the exact same way he had, yours was something to savor.

"Is it good?" You asked in amusement.

"It's ok. Why?" was his curt reply.

"You hummed," you chuckled, "That means you like it."

Had he? When were you so observant?

"I did no such thing." He glanced away from your smug expression.

"Will you be home for dinner? I was thinking about cooking." The light from your phone caught his attention drawing his gaze back to your face.

"I can probably arrange that." He tried to sound nonchalant, but you caught the intrigue in his tone.

"Anything you'd like? It's been a while since I made something savory, but I can still throw down."

He raised a brow at your enthusiasm, "Whatever you'd like is fine."

"Sandwiches then?" You teased.

He rolled his eyes, "If you can really throw down, how about onigiri, Ms. Chef."

"That will require some research and a trip to the store, but I accept your challenge." You were already searching for recipes on your phone.

After sitting in silence for a few moments and finishing his second cup of coffee Law checked the time and rose from the table to place his mug in the empty sink.

"Seven o'clock." You murmured looking up to meet his stormy gaze.

"I'll do my best. Have a good day F/N-ya." He exited the kitchen, a few seconds later followed by the sound of the door locking from the outside.

After your short trip to the store, you returned home to stock the fridge and pantry. It was shameful how much time you avoided spending there. Only coffee, sugar and creamer sat in the kitchen, and there were still boxes stacked in a corner of the living room waiting to be unpacked. You intended to remedy that.

Moving into the common space you began opening boxes. They'd been there so long you didn't know if they belonged to you or Law. The first was heavy and filled with medical magazines and notebooks. Box two was full of novels, most of them adventure, and the smallest was yours full of framed pictures and photo albums.

You organized the magazines and novels on the empty bookshelf that lined the back wall, leaving Law's notebooks for him to sort. At the bottom of that box you found a small framed picture turned over. Carefully you plucked it from the box curiosity piquing as you flipped the silver frame over. Law hadn't had any pictures of family or friends that you knew of. Making a mental note to ask about that your gaze fell over an old photo of your fiancé. He couldn't have been more than ten, wearing a school uniform with a little yellow backpack hooked over his shoulders. Next to him crouched a tall blond man with shaggy bangs swept across his face and a cigarette pressed between his lips. You were sure he'd always had that attitude and judging from the look on his adolescent face you were correct. The man in the photo must have been his adopted father, whom he didn't talk much about.

You filled your day with little projects and finally got around to making dinner. It wasn't difficult, but it was time-consuming. You felt good about preparing something he had picked specifically. It was your job to make people happy through their appetites, but this for the moment muted the crippling guilt that had been plaguing you.

Seven turned to eight turned to nine o'clock. You covered dinner in plastic and placed it in the fridge before moving back to the living room to binge watch some shows you had missed. It was disappointing that Law hadn't arrived or returned your texts but you supposed that came with being a doctor.

                                                                                          ____________

Law walked in quietly shutting the door behind him, first noticing the pictures lining the hallway. He stopped at the photo of his eleven-year-old self with Corazon on the first day of sixth grade. You must've had a productive day. Feeling incredibly guilty he continued into the apartment greeted by the soft light of the tv, he hadn't even noticed you on the sofa buried in a mess of blankets until you gasped.

"Sor-" Law was cut off as more gasps left the now writhing blanket pile.

Removing his coat, he crouched down pulling the throws away quickly. Your body had curled up into itself as you tried desperately to catch your breath. In the natural motion to ball up you'd smashed yourself into the back of the sofa. His slim tattooed fingers wrapped firmly around your wrists as you clawed at your chest and throat.

"D-don't..." you rasped.

"F/N-ya," he started softly pulling you into him as he sat, "try to calm down."

"Trying." You shuddered grasping his hands trying to fend off your instinct to fight back.

Now your clammy skin and shaky hands that morning made sense to him.

He hummed cradling you while you cried and hiccupped still hooked into a fetal position. Being wrapped in his warmth and hearing his low soft voice helped you focus on your breathing. The dark abyss that had been enveloping you began to fade.

"I'm... I'm sorry." You stammered. 

[sappymix1]

dnf and new london memories

It’s London, and it’s so late Wednesday night that it’s turned to Thursday morning when George stumbles back into Dream’s hotel room.

They’d been out shopping and eating and last of all drinking, enough that George’s lingering cold was replaced by the burn of alcohol down his throat and the rambling energy that always made Sapnap call him annoying and Dream hold him close. Komanche was fun. George was surrounded by his favorite people and, after tonight, his new favorite people, and nothing could touch him. It didn’t matter that he was in London again, nor did it matter that anyone else was. Today was the happiest day of his life. And so was the day before, and the day before that. 

The only person who had been missing was Dream. He’d woken up the day before with George’s sore throat, but a thousand times worse because he was Dream and of course he had. Both George and then Sapnap had offered to stay, but Dream had said not to. He said to have fun, and that there was no point in all of them missing out. Besides, he wanted to rest before they went to see George’s parents the next day. 

By the time George unlocked the door to their room, he’d drank so many drinks with the name of some sort of fruit in the title, ordered to match with Sylvee even though he knew that she could handle them better than him. He’d danced with Hannah and stepped on her feet on purpose, and a few times on accident too. He’d pulled his phone out and tried to call Dream while Sapnap pried it out of his fingers, protesting even as Sapnap repeatedly told him that Dream was trying to sleep. He’d called Larray instead, and he’d told him that he found more exciting people to go out with in Europe. Larray had scoffed, and responded yeah right, and then do not do that when George asked him if he should call Dream even though he was sick. Like it was his fault that he missed him.

Dream was in bed looking all pathetic and sleepy when George came back. George had felt like he was still dragging the music of the place they’d been last with him, but it quieted once he was in the room. “Hi,” he said, volume probably a bit misjudged. “I missed you.” He’d had so much fun. “I wish I’d stayed.”

Dream’s nose was slightly red, and he squinted at him like he’d been on the edge of sleep, even though George knew he’d been waiting up for him. Dream always was, when he went out. Something about how it made him nervous when George was vulnerable like that. “I’m glad you went,” Dream said, voice scratchy like George’s had been when they’d left Paris. “I want you to have happy memories in London.”

“You’re dumb.” George should shower. He’d been so many places around so many people, and normally he’d be able to feel it on his skin. Right now, all he could feel was how desperately he needed to be close to Dream. He grabbed a comfy shirt from his open suitcase and a clean pair of sweatpants and rushed through changing. 

“Get some water,” Dream said as soon as George started to walk over to bed. “I know you probably didn’t drink enough. I always tell you to drink more water when you go out.”

George obediently drank some water, making a face when it was too warm. “You’re sick,” he said into the cup, narrowly avoiding spilling it on his new shirt. “I’m supposed to be taking care of you.” 

“You went to go get me cold medicine this morning. That’s taking care of me. Get some tylenol and set it next to the bed so you can find it in the morning.” 

“Did you take the cold medicine?” George asked, just in case. At Dream’s nod, he turned off the lights and brought the bottle of painkillers back to where Dream had said. 

Dream’s body was warm when George climbed into bed next to him, and he couldn’t tell if it was his normal body heat or if he was running a fever. He curled up next to him anyway. Sometimes they slept together and sometimes they slept apart, but every time George got even a few drops of alcohol in him, the need to be in Dream’s arms was overwhelming. Luckily, even sick and tired, Dream was happy to hold him. 

“This is a happy memory,” George said, voice quiet, and he looked up so he could see Dream’s face. “I– Like, I used to dream about this when I was here before.”

“I know,” Dream said through a sleepy smile as his arm around George’s waist tightened. “I just…I don’t want you to think badly of your home anymore. You love London. It’s not fair.”

George squirmed a bit, until Dream gently ran a hand up his side, soothingly over his ribs and stomach and he relaxed. “I love you,” he said, voice starting to sound drowsy. He hadn’t realized he was tired. “I love you in London. I love taking care of you in London. I’m happy.

He felt Dream exhale, and he heard him smile. “Me too.” 

[epithet-beloved]

Something about xerxes my tired mans.

Maybe taking care of his sorry ass💛

LIVING WITH XERXES ROUGHHOUSE HEADCANONS

synopsis… You share an apartment with Xerxes Roughhouse

ft. Xerxes Roughhouse

tags… anime campaign, fluff, can be read as romantic or platonic, domestic scenarios, roommate headcanons, reader keeps Xerxes from working himself to death, established relationship, no actual spoilers for anything

word count… 866

a/n… This is how I reveal my Xerxes bias. Him and Jericho are my #1 anime campaign chrs and I love them so so much I’m sealing them in plastic capsules and shaking them around ✧ 🦄

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 You may or may not be the only thing reminding him to eat sometimes.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 Xerxes is admittedly….not the greatest at taking care of himself, so having you as a roommate certainly does help a bit with that.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 In terms of completing tasks when others are relying on him, he never fails or hesitates. But he can tend to be so focused on productivity and serving those he cares about that he neglects himself. A lot.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 Plus, man is used to living with a lot of people since he grew up with such a big family, so even if he prefers to have quiet time to himself after work, he appreciates having someone else around to ground him when he zones out overworking himself.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 That being said, he would do best with a quieter roommate. Though he can mesh with pretty much anyone as long as you don’t ignore the boundaries and ground rules he has, which he’s pretty clear on, so it’s hard to forget.

When you’d first agreed to move in with Xerxes, you very vividly remember the list of ground rules he had given to you shortly after. Most of them were pretty standard — no loud music late at night, clean up after yourself in the kitchen, rotate who does laundry……but a few stood out to you.

“Hey, Xerxes?” Without looking up at him, you pointed to one of the bullet points on the printed list. “Why did you feel the need to write ‘no indoor skateboard ramps’ and ‘no doomsday bunkers’?”

When your eyes darted up to his face, you could see a tiredness in his eyes unlike any other.

“You don’t want to know.”

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 Aside from maybe being a bit uptight, Xerxes is fairly easy to live with — he’s organized, quiet, and very upfront with his expectations, so you don’t have to worry about dealing with a passive aggressive roomie.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 That being said, you try to sneakily do his chores for him most of the time since you know how much he overworks himself. Xerxes will insist you don’t have to do this, but the bags under his eyes suggest otherwise.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 Sometimes the man comes home and passes out the minute he steps through the door. Most days he doesn’t even get to bed and just passes out on the couch instead.

Finding Xerxes asleep in the lounge has become a bit of a routine occurrence, if not a somewhat concerning one. You knew that you couldn’t control his sleep schedule, let alone his much more concerning work schedule, so the least you could do is try to take care of him in the moment.

There was a blanket you always left draped over the back of the couch for occasions such as these. It felt surprisingly natural to grab it, shake it out a little, and drape it over your slumbering roommate. You’d have to wake him up before dinner and scold him about these unhealthy habits of his.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 You typically rotate who makes dinner. Xerxes is a pretty alright cook, and no matter what your skills are, he’s always appreciative and rarely complains. Dinners don’t always have a lot of conversation, but neither of you mind. Comfortable silence is sort of a love language for you two.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 You got matching aprons for the two of you for when you cook together, and he isn’t very outwardly expressive about it, but he thinks it’s just the sweetest thing ever.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 Also, I’m convinced that he just owns several copies of the same outfit and that’s all he wears. He owns pajamas, but sleeps in his work clothes half the time anyway.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 He acts indifferent if you steal one of his shirts, but he’s secretly endeared by it.

You were honestly worried the guy would kill you the first time he saw you in one of his stolen shirts. Not like Xerxes was at all the type of person to do a thing like that, but even someone who’s known him as long as you have could still find him intimidating sometimes.

Even so, all he did was give you a quick once over, sigh to himself and turn around without a word to hide his smile from you.

“Just throw it in with the other darks when you’re done.”

Maybe you should start doing this more regularly.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 Even though you’re the one taking care of him most of the time, Xerxes is a dependable guy who keeps his promises, so he’ll always be there for you when you need it, just like you’ve been there for him.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 Expect a blanket to be draped over you when you fall asleep somewhere, or breakfast left on the table for you when you slept in and he had to leave early. Sometimes, he doesn’t always have the time to say goodbye to you in person when he leaves for work, so he always makes sure to leave a note of some kind.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 Sometimes, he’ll accidentally write a “love you” at the end of them, being used to writing notes for his family.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 You never bring it up to him verbally, but you try to show him that you care for him just as much.

[ectogeo-rebubbles]

Trick or treat! 👻

(for this ask game)

Hey there, I absolutely adore the scene in ch 3 of your fic Understanding where Garak and Julian have sex in the changing room of Garak's shop, so I'm gonna write a thing that is very based on that, but with them doing it in Julian's workplace this time haha! Everyone reading this should be sure to also go read Understanding, not bc you need to in order for this to make sense, but simply because it is VERY FUCKING GOOD. And then also you can see for yourself the extent to which I just entirely ripped off maeselc's scene here hahaha.

(Untitled Garashir ficlet. Rated M or maybe E. Content warnings: semi-public sex. Fic continues below the readmore.)

"Doctor Bashir?" Nurse Jabara said from the other side of the curtain that separated the biobed from the rest of the infirmary. "I have some questions about these patients' charts."

Garak bit down on his own hand to muffle himself.

They hadn't expected anyone else to still be here this late. But they hadn't particularly bothered to check either, before Garak had pulled his own clothes off and laid down on the biobed.

"Of course. I'll be done with this examination in just a moment," Julian responded calmly.

"Okay. I'll be in my office," she said, then walked away.

Julian hadn't paused his examination as they talked, and it was thorough. Garak's legs were spread and his thighs were trembling as long elegant fingers probed deep into his most sensitive places while he thrust himself up into the warm grip of Julian's other hand. Almost getting caught had only heightened the thrill running up his spine, and after few more pumps, Garak's back arched as he came all over himself.

Garak let his hand fall from his mouth when he was no longer in danger of crying out. When Julian brought his own fingers to Garak's mouth, he eagerly sucked them clean.

Wasting no more time, Julian pulled out an examination gown from where they were stored below the biobed and used it to start mopping up the rest of Garak's rains.

"Well, everything seems perfectly normal, but don't leave just yet, I want to follow up with you in a few minutes," Julian said cheerily to Garak--though clearly only for the benefit of any eavesdroppers--as he stepped over to the sink to wash his hands. "You can change back into your clothes though, and put the disposable gown in the reclamator when you're done with it."

Julian rolled his sleeves back down and, with a final wink to Garak, slipped out from the curtain to help Jabara with her paperwork.

Without the heat of exertion, Garak was cooling off. He used a fresh part of the garment to dry himself more thoroughly, then stood and wiped up the wet spot from the biobed. He finished dressing just as Julian returned.

Julian kissed him as soon as the curtains were closed on them again.

"She's gone now. It's just us."

"Good. I certainly wouldn't want you to get in any trouble," he said, with a tone of voice that suggested he very much wanted to get him into all kinds of trouble.

A slightly devious smile curled his lips. "Mmm. Well, there's always the possibility that there will be some late night medical emergency that interrupts us again."

Garak matched his wicked grin. "So, what sort of follow-up appointment did you have in mind for me, Doctor?"

[livealittleoc-cb]

Felix: 🥰

[ smudge ] felix cleans lipstick off cupids and eros' face

@monsterhigh-cb

The LixCuRo house was in a sorts of chaos for the night.

Cupid was having a fancy party to celebrate his and Lix's current tour that they were doing together. Eros had made the three of them some last minute outfits, staying up late as he made sure that everything was perfect. He made a poofy over dramatic dress in pink for Felix, a shirt skirt and bra like spaghetti strapped top in pink and black for Cupid and a red suit that went along with the patterns on each of his partner's outfits.

Eros was the first one to get ready, putting on his suit, fixing his hair and adding a little bit of makeup to the corner of his eyes along with a little blush and lip gloss. He made sure to straighten his hair out and put in a pair of diamond earrings with a chain necklace.

Lix was the second one to get ready with help from Eros. He helped his boyfriend slip into his dress, making sure it fit how it was supposed to along with doing Lix's hair how he wanted. He helped him do some over dramatic makeup that matched his outfit along and was going to compliment the other two.

Cupid was the last to get ready. Or...well...more like make a mess as he got ready-. They had put on their two piece outfit bouncing on their toes as they went to grab a leather jacket, tucking their wings in to make sure they didn't get caught. That's when everything went downhill. "MY WING GOT STUCK!" Cupid yelled as she whined and tears slightly brimmed her eyes as her wing got cramped in a strange position in the jacket they had been trying on. They ran around slightly tripping on their tiny black heels, whining more as they did so. Eros just sighed as he pulled away from a hug he was in with Lix and looked at his other partner with a blank.

"Stop running around you're going to hurt yourself." Eros said sternly causing Cupid to whine but stopped and stayed still, Lix was pouting the whole time as he looked at his boyfriend squirm trying to get his wing out from the garment. "What did I tell you?" Eros said as he walked to Cupid helping him get his wing unstuck.

"Ask you if I needed help."

"Did you?"

"No." Eros shook his head while Cupid just huffed. "I can do it on my own I'm a big girl." He made a grumpy face that Lix couldn't help but giggle at as he hugged his partner when the jacket was off of his wing. He lightly bent down to press a kiss to his shorter boyfriend the other turning his head and puckering his lips. "Another please." He said and Lix laughed lightly pressing a small kiss to his lips. He turned to Eros going a little on his tippy toes to press a kiss to his cheek. He looked at the two realizing that he had left kiss marks and smudges on both of them. A fit of giggles overcame him as he saw them both of them looking at him confused.

"You have something there and...there." He giggled a little as Eros turned to look in the mirror and blinked as he saw the marks, Cupid walked up next to him and started to giggle.

"We look cute.~" He mused with more giggles while Felix back hugged her and giggled with her. Eros couldn't fight the smile that spread on his face as he shook his head.

"We do. But now we have to clean it off." Cupid whined while Felix smiled and bounced to grab a napking and reached over to lightly clean up the smudged lipstick on Eros' face. He then went to a whining Cupid who pouted big at the lipstick being removed from his face. Lix smiled and pressed a kiss to Cu's lips before hugging her. Eros smiled at the two hugging them and kissing bother their heads. "Come on let's do Cu's makeup and curl his head." Felix squealed as he bounced excited to work on his boyfriend's look. Eros chuckling along as Cu's wings fluttered happily.

[australiablog]

18/7

My sleep seems to be getting worse, I think I coughed all night and nothing is helping. I am happy I started the antibiotics last night already so I hope they will kick in soon! All the laundry is dry and hallelujah it all fits. I don’t have extra room though so I can’t buy anything before cairns or it’s not gonna fit. Unless they let me bring my doctor who bag as a purse and stuff things in there on top of my backpack. I am really early but I can either sit around in my hotel room or at the airport and be there just in case something goes wrong. Yes I’m a paranoid bitch so option two it is. I stopped at the cafe across the street to get a breakfast muffin and a coffee for the bus. I only had to wait a good 5 minutes before the bus showed up. The drive itself was pretty quick, just 20 minutes or so. So I’m flying nationally so I definitely don’t need the international terminal so when I was walking towards the Virgin Australia desk to check in, a woman walked up to me and asked where I was going and what airline because the international terminal was not here. I just stared at her for a few stunned seconds before replying I was in fact going to Melbourne and I needed virgin. I was honestly offended. Like fuck off Karen, I take public transport in places I’ve never been before, and I can find my way in a brand new airport too. Just because I look like a backpacker (which yes granted I do) does not mean I don’t know where I’m going. I tried checking in at the self check but somehow it wouldn’t let me, so I asked a staff member and she had a look at my list with all my flights. She thinks because they are all booked under Singapore airlines but are operated under the local airlines the kiosk was having difficulty. So I walked to the international virgin desk and she checked me in with no problems. I always have matches and a lighter in my toiletries in my big baggage. Now I had to put them in my cabin bag, which confused the hell out of me. That you can’t have power banks I can understand but matches???? Well thank god I knew immediately where they were. Security was another mess, I asked if I had to take off my hiking boots and the guy said no. Of course going through the metal detector it went off and I had to take off my shoes. When I was through my backpack was nowhere to be seen. It got selected for a bomb swap. I packed that backpack to perfection in a tetris kind of way with all my souvenirs, she of course took everything out to see that my tripod had set off the alarm. My entire backpack is a hot mess now because I can’t remember how I packed it and I had to do it with everyone around me. At least it closed and I’ll sort it out later. I still had 2 hours before my flight so I just got a drink and worked on my diary. The flight was only an hour and they did offer refreshments, after the air pocket I once experienced with Bieke I am wary of drinking warm things on an airplane. Also they recommend not drinking tea because it’s not very clean so I got a coffee with lots of milk and basically drank it in a few goes. Melbourne is in a slightly different time zone as I was before, so for the rest of my trip I’ll now be +8 for my family. I don’t think I’ll notice it except for when I wake up they will most definitely be asleep. Before I usually still caught mum and dad before they went to bed. Andrew was waiting for me at the baggage which confused me because apparently you can just walk up to that here. We waited a bit for it to come along, I tied my pink straps around it so it was nice and visible. The drive to his house was about 3 hours. It was pretty late by the time we got to this house. We didn’t do very much, we ended up watching deadpool since the new movie is coming out next week. Andrew is giving up his bed for me, and he’s sleeping on the sofa that turns into a bed in their second living room! I told him he didn’t need to do that, but he insisted!

[gettingbyy]

3/16/2024

this post is for mouse, but you can read it, too, if you want.

i hope you like the random photos i've been choosing. xD you've probably seen them all before, but it's still kind of fun to try to match them up with how i think the current post might go. the magnolia trees downtown will be blooming again soon so this one felt appropriate. i had another idea of what photo i might've used for this one, but i can't remember what it was. maybe next time.

anyways.

things have been going okay lately, with spring getting here and daylight savings happening, i'm finally starting to feel like a human again. it's been getting a bit better since i started working from home anyway, but more light is definitely helping. that said, i think the time change fucked me up real bad. i haven't been able to get out of bed before 930-945 all week (yay for working from home and working in my bed), i've been exhausted and i still can't sleep at night. shit's problematic. hopefully next week is smoother, but if this is the price i have to pay for daylight, i'll gladly pay it 50 times over.

A's internship/job is over now; she was hoping she could stay there, but long story short her manager and one of the HR people are both super ableist and discriminatory. she asked for disability accommodations (4 days of 8 hours a day instead of 5 days of 8 hours) and everything blew up in her face even though her request was perfectly legal and reasonable. i had just gone to a deep-dive webinar about the Americans with Disabilities Act a week or two before all this went down and i was appalled at the actual laws her workplace broke. to make it even wilder, she works at a community health center, doing things like, y'know, helping clients get accommodations at work for disabilities (among other things). the full story is kinda long, but i can tell you someday if you want. needless to say, she's back to the drawing board but has some prospects. fingers crossed.

my job is going okay right now. it's been a week since a bunch of articles came out saying we'll be declaring bankruptcy soon, but so far we haven't heard many peeps (other than a ton of us being anxious about it). allegedly, the type of bankruptcy we'd file would let us stay in business without making major changes, but we have over a billion in debt so....yeah. it's funny, on the website/earnings announcements they always say $1,xxx.xx million because it sounds a lot better than $1.1 billion. they're not really fooling anyone, though, or at least not us as the employees. they're especially not fooling me, because i know how far behind we are on paying our invoices.

i'm working on going through my books and sorting out what doesn't speak to me anymore. i have some of yours that you got when you were here last - i'm going to box them up and put them on a shelf in the basement so they don't accumulate cat hair like mine all are lmao. so far, i have about 25 books i'm going to be giving away or selling to a used bookstore i recently found. that's just the shelves in the blue room; i still have to go through the 9-cube white shelf in mine that's double-stacked.

where i'm at so far.

the main shelf in the blue room did have a couple double-stacked cubes, but mostly those were A's terry pratchett books. it's been an adventure. next step is cleaning my room (pack up unused bags, get my cameras and gear organized, etc.) and then i can use the space in here to sort out the other shelf. i'm telling you this to inform you of my life, but also to hopefully hold myself accountable. xD

this is pretty long so i should probably wrap it up. it was definitely way more stream-of-consciousness than the other one so hopefully it's not too rambly. miss you bbg, i hope you're doing a bit better now. <3

[notebookmusical]

Okay part 2!!! I understand your reading slump and I haven't had a lot of time for reading lately either. I'm sorry you haven't been enjoying your reads. I will also be pretty busy over the next two months and I'm not sure how long it will take me to read or if I will focus on reading much at all but i'm gonna try. I plan on going back to Tomorrow x3 eventually cuz it did seem like it has potential and a story I might like but I always start books and forget about them anyway lol. You can explain the annotating for the Night Circus if you want! I don't like writing in books or anything but I can keep it in mind while reading. Although your annotations looked nice and clean from the pics I saw.I always try to look at any discussion questions in books too. Also if you have any opinions on who to picture for this book, that always helps me a little bit. But I was also thinking of trying to read the new Hunger Games this month. The new movie looks pretty good and I might never read it once I watch the movie. I've heard mixed things about it but I like the clips I've seen and Olivia Rodrigo has a new song for it! I heard it last night and liked it..it definitely has a Hunger Games sound to it. It actually reminds me of Safe and Sound mixed with Carolina. It's funny cuz Rachel and Olivia are sort of alike to me..they're the same age and had to adjust to fame quickly in a similar way. Idk if you ever watched the new West Side Story, but I love her voice.

I agree about the vault songs. I think its more that they picked certain songs cuz they wanted the album to tell a specific story. Taylor explained this with Slut vs Blank Space, and Is it Over Now vs Out of the Woods. For Maisie, it was more like some had an acoustic sound and she obviously wanted more fun songs maybe. Like..I prefer listening to The Last One or Truth Is over Run, but I understand why she picked it. Also my sister noticed a cool double meaning in the song..like is being the last one a good thing or bad thing basically and I thought that was interesting. Like I'll be the last one cheering you on..after everyone left or I'll be the last one you would even think of..and other people are more important than me. It's funny cuz sometimes we have different interpretations of a song. One example is High infidelity and the lyrics about killing the one you love and never loving them enough. She thought it was her that didn't love him enough and I thought it was him not loving her enough. So for Suburban Legends, I get a little confused too and can understand maybe why people would like the other songs more. I think at first, I just took the 2nd verse literally, about the high school reunion..which is something I then started thinking of my own life and relating to it. Then the line about I broke my own heart and you were too polite to do it kinda reminded me of Midnight Rain or the idea of You're On Your Own Kid..and how she had to choose between her dreams or relationship and the song is a fantasy if she chose him. This also ties in with the title of suburban legends once I actually thought about it. So when I compared it to Dorothea, it's kinda a similar idea..almost like the same perspective of the song Dorothea. Cardigan has a similar feel of lost love and longing to me. But I've now seen other interpretations that she is using high school as a metaphor and the song is back and forth and the person did not care about her as much. I kinda realized that cuz the first verse didn't quite match up with that interpretation. However it seemed to match with my experience in general so that's what the song means to me. It might have a hint of Gold Rush too..which I also connect to. To be clear, I don't really mean the story within the songs..just how it relates to me and my life. Teardrops, Hey Stephen and Stay Beautiful also tell a similar story.But like the ruin line I interpret as nothing the person did..just how life is, and you don't end up with the person you wanted in high school, but you'll always wonder what if. Idk if this is confusing, I thought it would be obvious or the point of the song, but it didn't seem to be the common interpretation lol. Also I can't believe she added more dates to the tour!

Connections was kinda hard for me today! I kinda had the right idea but sometimes I can't fill in every word in the category. I actually got blue first today which were the words that were letters. I knew royal flush and family went together but not the other two words even when I knew the category, so that happens sometimes too. I was so stuck on the double words one cuz I thought it was something to do with spelling. Or I'll get two categories pretty easily and be sort of lost with the other two haha. The game also tries to trick you a lot, like with apple and dell computers from yesterday too so it just depends. I think usually the easy ones are easy for me, and the hard ones are hard but there have been a few times I got purple first or 2nd. One time was the guitar parts, but I didn't know the horror directors from the other day at all. I usually find that fill in the blanks are pretty hard though. I hope you have a great time seeing Hadestown tomorrow!!! Can't wait to hear all about it!

if it makes you feel any better, i haven't picked up a book at all in like four days, and i most likely won't until i'm on a plane on friday! i'm trying to decide what book i want to take with me — i'm thinking of maybe bringing beautiful world, where are you by sally rooney; it'd be a reread/an annotation project (and yes, i know i'm in the middle of like four of those right now) but that's what i'm leaning towards. i might also try to read an arc on the plane? it's not a very long plane ride, so we'll see. with the night circus, i'm double annotating — which means i'm annotating two copies at the same time! one copy is for traveling book club (each person picks a book, you annotate → send it along to the next person in the group chat who then annotates/reads your annotations → passes it on, etc) and then i also wanted to annotate it for myself! but it's a very lengthy process. double annotating always takes me 50 million years. my friend em has fancasted dev patel as marco, and jessica henwick for celia and has been saying so for years so i always think of her + her fancast when people ask me this question, but personally i am terrible at fancasts and have yet to find someone who is the perfect celia / marco / etc. to me!

i haven't read tbosas either! i keep meaning to and then i ... never do. i feel like i should also reread the hunger games, if i'm going to read that though! have you listened to the new olivia song? i really liked it! i think it fits the vibes of the trailer/what i know of tbosas really well. and i have not watched the west side story movie! rachel is really talented, i remember seeing the video of her at broadway flea back in the day singing a little fall of rain with chris mccarrell haha! we have some mutual friends, fun fact!

i thought about changing my url to a the last one url but i felt like i had just changed mine to this and i'm trying to be better about changing my urls every single month. i also thought about changing it to a hockey url though! so we'll see! and yes — broke my own heart ... reminded me a lot of midnights! i think we talked about how a lot of the vault feels very midnights-y, and i think that's a prime example! and yes — like the 1! i love those what if/sliding doors stories/thoughts!! and i can't either — i'm hoping to get vancouver tickets since that's much closer to me than where i currently have eras tickets for (and my friend and i could maybe stay with my father), which would make things a lot easier/cheaper.

it's been a hot minute since i replied, but connections today (nov 5) was easy for me! the royal flush one was silly! i totally guessed with the horror directors one and all my friends in my group chat were surprised i got it! i started playing murdle a few days ago, and i've been having a lot of fun with it! there's the mini murdle and then the daily murdle — you should give it a try! my group chat also did colorfle for a while, and some of them do bandle, actordle, and moviegrid but i don't listen to enough music/watch enough movies to participate in those haha.

hadestown was fun; we had an understudy for orpheus (john krause!!!!), but the paramount theatre's sound system is really really finicky, especially for shows where the band is on stage, and so i just had a really hard time with act one sound wise. i could barely hear him, and then everyone else was super loud/the music was really loud, and it just detracted from the overall experience, but they fixed some of it by act two so that was more enjoyable! i also think (and i have thought this every time i see it, but it was more so noticeable this time) that act one feels very long in comparison to act two which is much faster paced! i also still think that they should close act 1 with wait for me, but i don't know where why we build the wall would fit! hmm...

how was your weekend? did you get up to anything fun? sending you a warm hug + hope you have a good upcoming week!!! 🤍 xo

[halloweeneveryday]

Table for three

I hope this won't be too much to read, but this too has stayed with me.

In the late 90s, I was eighteen or nineteen years old. I was waitressing at a family restaurant on the outskirts of a big city.

Just a little background: I had been working there for a couple of years by that time. It was the sort of high quality establishment that had a bar attached, a big lobby, and so on; it could seat about one hundred people when full. Traditional food, full meals, and for the most part, traditional customers. On All-Ireland match days, we’d be mad busy, and it might get a bit rowdy and whatnot, but other than that it was a place you’d come to to have candles on the tables, starters, main course, dessert, coffee, wine, and generally stay a while.

One particular Saturday night, I was the only one serving meals at about 10 pm or so; the dining room was more or less empty so I wasn’t rushed off my feet. I did have a couple of supervisors working with me but they were not out on the floor serving/cleaning/seating people like I was.

I was wiping a table in one corner, and three people walked in. A couple, and who I guessed was their daughter, not much older than me. So maybe they were in their forties or fifties. Nicely dressed up for the evening. I stopped wiping, walked over, asked them if they wanted a smoking or non smoking table, seated them, put menus in front of them. As you do.

Went and fetched them a jug of water. Went back to my cleaning.

Soon the couple looked ready to order (they were making eye contact with me) and even though the girl had gone to the ladies’, I went over with my little notebook and pen. Scribbled down his order, her order. Everything was normal.

There was a pause. I said, and I’ll never forget this, “do you want to wait for her to come back, or do you already know what she wants to order?” I thought it was a perfectly reasonable thing to ask, but I got a puzzled look from both of them.

I think it was the man who asked me to repeat. I did, and they brushed me off, “ah, no, no, it’s just us tonight.” Now, the thing to do would have been to listen to them, and walk away into the kitchen and put their order through and forget it.

Instead, stubborn me stood there, wanting to be sure they understood what I was asking, to avoid confusion later. I said something like, “is she not eating, then?” or similar. “No, no, we’re by ourselves, thanks.” And then I was getting annoyed that even if she didn’t want to eat, with them they could at least acknowledge my acknowledgment of her presence! I said (and I was never, before or after, so brisk with a customer; in that place you could get into awful trouble for being cheeky) “okay then, but I was only asking about the person who was with you. That’s fine, though.”

Then they looked at me properly for the first time, and asked me what I was talking about. So I said about the person who was with them when they came in, but at that point I took the order and went away, deciding not to spend an evening discussing it and looking silly or whatever. (Too late, I think!)

I spent the next ten minutes silently putting bread rolls on their table, wiping other tables, serving the few customers we had at other tables, and generally not engaging too much with the couple.

The daughter did not return so I shrugged it off. I had to. Before I brought their meals out, they called me over. They were both looking a little bit troubled, and he was definitely pale now.

I didn’t know what to say to that, but they told me that what convinced them I saw her, it was my absolute insistence, that I wouldn’t leave it alone, to the point I was nearly rude. Because I’d seen her, knew she was a young woman, likely to be their daughter etc. I didn’t just get a vague idea of three people. The couple had seemed like the type that would stay for dessert, the works. He got up and went quickly out to the lobby to make a phone call halfway or so through their meal.

I was not scared, I should add that. At no point. I wasn’t threatened, wasn’t chilled or anything. I just wondered... how. All these years.

source: https://www.boards.ie/discussion/comment/94240170/#Comment_94240170

[dragon-heisters]

Session 24, 4 Feb 2023

I’m late this week, due to pizza. Pfenig has watched Wakanda forever; Nuri immediately tells him “no spoilers!” He has already had Thor: Love and Thunder spoiled for him at work. “No spoilers!” I tell him.

BWJ has got big people clothes now, and a big people beanbag; Pfenig doesn’t like it. Right, to the dirty prostitute ward? We should clean this place up. Unionise them. Council tax, that sort of thing. We are presented with a reference image:

Good grief.

We are looking for two drow; it’s been about half an hour since we lost them, but were able to follow them with Thessalie’s Horn Marker spell. Nuri picks up Pfenig and pets him like a Bond villain; Pfenig immediately starts yowling. He hisses for a bit, then falls asleep. Nuri carries him around like a baby.

We haven’t heard the Horn Marker for a while; we make Perception checks. We think they might be near the lighthouse, so right near the coast. Nuri approaches a... gentleman of the night, as Thessalie storms ahead.

“Excuse me… Sir?” he tries.

“What services can I provide?”

“I’m just seeking information,” he stammers, and asks about the drow. How much is the information worth to him, the prostitute wants to know. Nuri will reimburse him with one gold. He hands one over.

“I ain’t seen nothing,” the prostitute tells him, pocketing the gold. Of course.

“Can I talk to this lady,” Hazel wants to know.

“‘Lady’ is very generous of you,” the DM says. The ‘lady’ tells her to jog on, this spot is taken.

We’re just looking for some drow, Hazel says.

"What’s a drow?"

A dark elf.

"I might have. What’s it worth?"

“Me moving on. If there’s dark elves about doing nefarious things, you’re not going to get much business are you?”

The lady decides she will tell Hazel something for a copper. Hazel hands one over.

“So… dark elves? Grey skin?” she points toward the big beached pirate ship. The Kraken’s Folly. They were heading in the direction of the lighthouse.

Thessalie spots one of the drow, and quickly ducks back out of sight to tell the others. We decide to have cat-Pfenig and Hazel stealth ahead and cut off any escape that way, and Nuri and Thessalie will stay behind and cut off the retreat. We’ll trap them!

Could we pay a prostitute to distract them? Wave their genitals around? There’s one in an open yellow trench coat and matching codpiece. Nuri shoves Thessalie in his direction.

Thessalie calls the prostitute over. He starts listing prices but she interrupts him. “Don’t even speak to me, just take these five gold pieces and go and distract those dark elves over there.”

He does as he’s told and goes over to solicit them. Pfenig and Hazel make Perception and Stealth checks. They hear the drow trying to talk to each other - he got what was coming to him, the boss won’t be angry, that sort of thing - as they are swatting away the prostitute.

Hazel hides around the side of a little boat. Nuri and Thessalie discuss spell slots; Thessalie has one that she’s saving for something specific, Nuri has none. We should intimidate them, so they might give up the stone without a fight? Nuri has fire for hair, he should lead the charge.

Nuri approaches the drow. “Give up the stone and you can go free!” (But in his Batman voice.)

The prostitute takes that as his cue to leave, and the drow turn to Nuri. They look very pissed off to see him. They don’t want to hurt us; leave them alone! Nuri says we don’t want to hurt them. One holds up a bloody arm; could have fooled him.

Hazel fires a warning arrow past them. A 21; the feathers on the end of her arrow stroke one’s face as it whirls past. They look for the source but can only see that green cat. Did he fire the…?

They can’t give us the stone. They really don’t want to hurt anyone.

Who are they working for, Nuri asks. They say, the good of the city. Well, so are we! They keep looking around, and looking out to sea. They’re being very furtive. They warn Nuri that we might want to get out of here.

Pfenig un-cats, and holds out the fake Stone. Swapsies?

How would they feel about a team-up, Nuri asks, and makes a Persuasion check. 18. We’re hardly in any condition to fight, one says to the other in elvish. As they discuss, we hear a clanging noise and an enormous mechanical dragon turtle (WHAT, we all immediately demand) rises up out of the water. We roll initiative, as the drow make for the turtle.

One of the drow goes first, and leaps onto the dragon turtle. The other follows suit. Hazel shoots over the top of the boat she’s hiding behind, aiming for the mechanical turtle. She is close enough to see “Big Belchy” written in Common on the side of its shell. 22 hits, for 18 damage. She hides again.

Thessalie runs to the dock and casts Disarm on the white haired elf, hoping that he is the one holding the Stone; he fails his strength save and drops the stone which lands with a plop in the water. (I get inspiration!)

Nuri, having not seen what Thessalie did, casts Infestation on the same elf, shouting, “You should have made a deal with us!” The elf swats at the cloud of flies suddenly surrounding him and jumps back five feet - but stays on the back of Big Belchy. “Covered in bees!” Nuri shouts.

Pfenig leaps into the water to go after the stone. He has no wild shapes left so “I just use my regular big old dumb Pfenig shape”. The water is deep. The stone is wafting down at speed, so unfortunately his reflexes aren’t quite enough to just swipe it. He swims down. “I’m cold now.”

Big Belchy’s mouth opens - the drow start battering it. “No, don’t!” It belches a cloud of steam onto the pier. (Well that explains the name.) All of us but Pfenig make Dex saves. Nuri is fire resistant and Hazel makes her Dex save but Thessalie takes the full 22 damage and goes down. (Fortunately the damage is non-lethal.) Big Belchy then makes to leave, but isn’t going after the stone. (Pfenig gets temporarily swept up with the other tokens, and has to be put back.)

Big Belchy heads out into the harbour, taking the elves with it.

Pfenig reappears as Nuri and Hazel prop Thessalie up against a building. Thessalie has heard of Big Belchy. It was made by Lantonese (sp?) gnomes, and only they would know how to fix it. It sank in the harbour over a century ago.

We have a friend near here who has an Apparatus of Kwalish… Maybe she'd let us borrow it to look for the Stone? We go and look for Grinda. Thessalie and Pfenig can both cast Detect Magic as a ritual once we get down there.

“Ah, if it isn’t the treasure hunters!” Grinda says when she opens her door to us. She will lend us the Apparatus for free, since we were so polite and returned it last time in good condition. She suggests we take a short rest first, as we’re in a right state. Pfenig will cast Cure Wounds on Nuri and Hazel; he offers it to Thessalie but she’s alright, actually.

Grinda casts Water Breathing on all of us, as only two can fit inside the Apparatus. Pfenig and Thessalie swim alongside, and Nuri will drive.

We descend into the harbour. Pfenig remembers roughly where the stone went down. It all seems to be going well until -

Goddammit, I knew it. That bloody shark! “Delicious, you’ve returned!” Obliteros says. We roll initiative…

Pfenig goes first and casts Shillelelelalalelalabels. He still wants to look for the stone; Obliteros is miles away. He does Chill Touch, mostly as an afterthought. Does 13 hit? Yes, it does. 6 necrotic damage.

“That tickles!”

Fuck.

Is Nuri familiar with Obliteros, he wants to know? Well she tried to eat us once before, so yes. Technically. He touches his forehead, casts Message, and whispers “Obliteros. Please… Let us pass and we will make you a god on dry land. They will chum the waters for your amusement, they will worship you as a god.” He makes a Persuasion check; a ten.

“To whichever one of you little snackettes is in my head; I have just eaten, so eating you would be just for fun. But maybe we could make a deal. There’s a pesky dragon that’s moved in, and it tries to stop me eating people. I want you to convince that dragon to let me eat people. And then I’ll let you go.”

Nuri is confused for a moment as to the exact terms of this deal. How can we talk to a dragon if Obliteros won't let us go first? Will she bring it here, or...? She explains again, patiently; she will let us go if we promise to talk to the dragon. Nuri, unable to believe his luck: “Oh, okay, yeah, yeah, we can do that. We’ll definitely talk to the dragon, and you’ll let us go.”

“Alright, you can leave. But if you don’t talk to the dragon, next time I’ll eat you whether I’m hungry or not. And then I’ll sick you up and eat you again.” She saw a boatload of priests not far away; they were blessing other fishing boats. She’ll go off and eat them, she says. Or maybe just kill them. And with that she swims off. Nuri gets Inspiration for that, mostly because the repercussions here are potentially hilarious.

We descend to the bottom where we find, glowing under the Detect Magic spell, a bundle of rags - and inside it, the Stone of Golorr:

We know that one of us has to attune to it to use it; that is, if we should decide not to give it back…

We return to Grinda with the Apparatus. Pfenig tells her we’ve solved her shark problem. Nuri, awkwardly: “… Well… About that...”

Grinda is concerned. If we’ve made some sort of deal with Obliteros, she fears for all of us. Pfenig, who doesn’t know what Nuri has done, scoffs: “You’d have to be an idiot to do that.”

Can Grinda keep the priests that bless the fishing boats off the water for a bit, by any chance…?

We have some things to do, not least a long rest. Then we (probably) have to go and convince a dragon to let a shark eat anyone who falls in the harbour. Should we keep the Stone, or return it? Who should attune to it, if we decide to keep it?

(None of them know it, but this is Thessalie's Evil Wizard Origin Story. She eyes the Stone greedily.)