#i’m such a slow writer

[from-beyond]

Hiring an assassin to kill me if I haven’t finished vestigial before I go back to uni

[cameronsprincess]

have a rafe x jj x reader i might post later today<3 still working on my requests, slowly but surely getting them all done and ready to be posted for y’all 💞

[writeouswriter]

My followers: And is this “writing” you’ve been “working on” in the room with us right now?

[luneariann]

Established skk my beloved

[keys-hellscape-1020]

You’re a healer, not a fighter. And yet…

Enjoy more stitch y’all sorry it took me so long. Also the title for this is SO bad I’m so sorry.

Platonic!141 x Medic!reader

Tw: Canon typical violence, cursing, gore, blood, Background character death, explosions, grenades, heavy smoke, reader is dissociating, implied that reader is having a panic attack, military inaccuracies, light angst, hurt/comfort.

~

You hate, nay despise, when you get separated during missions. If history holds true, and it always does, it won’t end well.

You are currently stuck in a small room, well stuck is a strong word as you do have 2 possible exits, it’s just that neither is very promising.

The slightly more promising of the two is a small rectangular window on the other side of the room, about 6 feet away. You’re not sure if you could get your torso through, and even if you did, if the 5 story drop didn’t kill you the enemy that was swarming the building certainly would.

The other exit was a hallway, leading back the way you fled from. You were crouched in a corner that bordered the door, gripping your gun tightly. There was no cover in the room, simply beige walls and that dammed window.

Suddenly a loud noise crackled from your comms, causing you to fumble to quickly turn it down a few notches. “Stitch! Stitch are you there? We almost have the case!”

You shuddered in a breath, carefully watching the door as you lifted one hand up to your radio to respond. “Sounds good Soap. I’m currently pinned on the 5th story, no visual on the enemy.”

“Stitch do you have any way to get out of there? We are pushing on 7th story.” That was Price, you could hear the sounds of a firefight in the background.

“I’ll find a way around.”

“Copy that, repo quickly.”

You carefully came out of your corner, crouching near the door you grabbed the doorknob, quickly flinging the door open.

The moment the door opened it was filled with bullets. You ducked behind the wall, grabbed a grenade from your gear pulled the pin and hoped.

When you heard a loud explosion paired with a choir of screams you leapt into the doorway, your gun posed in front of you.

You quickly took care of the few enemies you could see between the smoke and rubble. After a moment of no movement you moved forward to the rubble.

Crouching down you looked at the one solider who was still alive from your assault, half buried under rubble. He was a big fucker.

“Fuck off.” He growled at you as blood ran down his face.

You assessed him with a critical eye. His injuries would prevent him from moving very far. If you moved all weapons away from his reach he wouldn’t be a threat. That is assuming he lives.

You leaned over him to grab his sidearm from its holster on his side. As you leaned over he grabbed your arm with one hand and your shoulder with the other.

In any other circumstances he would’ve been able to break your arm, but he was injured and you were on high alert. You quickly tore his side arm from its holster and drove it into the side of his head, knocking his grip off of you.

Pointing his gun at his forehead you growled, “I am showing you mercy. Do not make me regret it.”

Breaking you out of your focused state was your radio, crackling to life loudly on your chest.

“STITCH! DON’T- THE EMEMY- TRAP”

The enemy used your shock to his advantage, grabbing your elbow and attempting to pry the gun from your grasp. You however were still faster despite your shock. You ram you head into his, causing him to let go of your elbow. You then pull your knife from its sheath and drive it home in the side of his neck.

With his blood staining your hands you turned to respond to your radio, ignoring the enemy’s gurgling in the background.

“What about the enemy? Do you have the case?” You asked, concern growing in your chest.

“STITCH” That at least you could tell was Price.

“Captain? Captain what’s going on?” You asked frantically, you had to fight the urge to run to them. If things were going wrong getting yourself hurt would not help anyone.

Suddenly your radio was full of very loud static. You fiddled with the channel, hoping it was just a technical error, but the longer you tried to get a connection the more you lost hope that it was simply a technical error.

You feel the blood drain from your face as the reality of the situation hit you. Your boys were captured. You quickly switch your mic off. Damnit.

Alright think. Your boys still have to be in the building, there’s no way they got them out already. You know they were heading to the 7th floor. The enemy will most likely be taking them up to the roof to lift them out. You just had to intercept them in time.

That is assuming they’re not dead.

But there is no time to think like that. They can’t be dead. If they’re dead you’re going to drag their sorry asses back to the living world and kill them again.

You quickly look around in the rubble, there has to be something here you can use. The corpse of an enemy solider catches your eye. They’re about the same build as you and while their uniform is splattered in blood it would do the job well enough.

You quickly pull on their jacket and vest along with their helmet. You could only hope that would be enough, you had to move.

————

You found the stairwell on the 5th floor, once you executed your plan you would have to move quickly or face loosing your boys forever.

You quickly started climbing the stories, you keep marching forward undisturbed until you got to the 8th story, when you were met with two guards.

“Who the fuck are you?” One of the guards shouted at you, pointing his gun at your head.

You quickly raised you hands in the air, it was vital they thought you one of them. “We- were attacked. 5th floor. Everyone is dead.” You croaked, forcing tears into your eyes and tightening your throat.

The two guards looked at each other, back at you, then lowered their guns a few inches.

“Where on the 5th floor was this and when?” One guard questioned, narrowing their eyes at you.

Fuck. You thought it was on the western side but you couldn’t be sure. No more that 10 minutes could’ve passed since it happened, but how could you be certain?

You couldn’t be, you just had to take a guess and hope you were right. “Western side.” You shuddered, hoping you weren’t overdoing your acting. “It- it just happened. No more then 10 minutes ago.”

“We just lost contact with a group on the eastern side. You know anything about that?” The guard shot you a suspicious glance. The other one fiddled with their trigger, glaring at you.

Fuck it.

You grabbed the one who was fiddling with their trigger and pulled them in front of you, using them as a human shield against their friend who sprayed a wave of bullets at you on instinct.

You pushed one guard into the other, and while they were reeling from the shock of having their friends mutilated corpse pushed into them you grabbed your knife and rammed it into the side of their head, aiming at the lisp of their helmet and angling upwards. So much for the plan.

There were footsteps coming down the stairwell, you had to act fast. Quickly you stash your knife in its sheath before pulling out your gun and firing it at the entry to the 8th floor, shouting expletives.

A team of 6 rounds the corner on high alert, they’re looking where you’re shooting and not at you, good.

“They went that way!” You shout, gesturing towards the door with a nod of your head.

“Move!” The leader barked, rushing towards the door. You pressed yourself to the wall, watching as they filed into the empty floor.

Once the coast is clear and the last of the enemies are through the door you turn around to creep carefully yet quickly up the rest of the stairs.

You manage to move up the next two flights of stairs without difficulty. You make your way to the floor right below the roof and listen carefully, your ear perched right up against the door.

You are met with the sounds of very angry, very Scottish yelling. You let out a shallow sigh of relief. Just as you suspected your boys are still in the building, now the hard part. Getting them out of it in one piece.

You wait at the door a moment longer listening for any clues, you fail to hear any coming from beyond the door, but you do hear one from above.

Carefully, and ever so slowly, cracking the door to the roof open, you are met with exactly what you expected. A helicopter is slowly descending to the platform on the roof, surrounding said platform is at least 5-8 enemy soldiers.

While not great you can work with these conditions, and that’s what you plan to do.

Not that you have much of a choice.

————

You quickly run to the floor they’re holding your boys and in a moment of fuck-it-I-have-nothing-to-loose (you’re lying to yourself you have everything to loose), you charge in, slamming the door to the wall.

You immediately stand at attention, and direct your eyesight to the man you hope you are correctly assuming is in charge.

When no bullets start firing at you you realize they are waiting for you to speak.

“Sir!” You bark out. “The heli is waiting on the roof sir!”

An old, short man turns to focus his eyes on you. You feel the cold sweat gathering on your neck as he fails to say anything, you swear that in the moment you could feel him cracking open your chest and feasting inside. Discovering all your secrets, uncovering all your sins.

Then he speaks, “bout damn time! Have the rest of your team come down. Escort these damn prisoners the fuck out of here!”

You turn to report to the rest of your fake team when a sense of dread hits you like a cold water ballon.

The messenger they would be sending. To alert the old fucker about the heli landing. That you already told him about.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid!!” You hiss out quietly to yourself, two seconds away from stomping your foot and pouting like a child.

Your panic is cut short however when the door to the roof opens. You quickly snap to attention as the solider heads towards you, fixing you with a scalding glare.

“What are you doing?” They question. You feel like they are a priest, pulling all your sins out of you one by one.

“I’ve been assigned to guard here, on account of the enemy solider running amok.” You say stoically, puffing out your chest in a crude imitation of a loyal solider, proud to be guarding their commander.

The other solider briefly stares at you, before gesturing for you to get out of the way. Fuck there’s nothing you can do. Any attempt at taking them out would surly be heard. Fuck it- there’s nothing you can do.

You step aside.

————

It feels like a lifetime as you wait for a sound, a whimper, a pen dropping, an indication of what your next move should be. It feels like a lifetime as suddenly the door you’re standing next to bursts open.

You are guided by instinct as you fire a bullet into the head of the solider who had opened the door. You duck low, pull the pin on a grenade, and throw it into the room.

You are shaken by the proximity of the explosion, and your ears are ringing fiercely. You push forwards anyway, and once you are well hidden by the smoke in the room you duck behind the remains of a pillar. You hear movement and you quickly peek out form behind it, firing wildly. It is only another moment before the smoke begins to clear enough that you can see.

You glance around cautiously, and see that every solider in this room is dead, remarkably there are fewer corpses then you expected. The only option for where your boys could be is behind a door on the other end of the room.

You can hear yelling coming from it.

You can hear footsteps from behind you.

You slam the door behind you shut, amazed it’s still on it’s hinges. You grab a chair and shove it beneath the handle. You hope that buys you enough time to get your boys out because otherwise you’re doomed.

You approach the door, your gun posed in front of you, and kick.

The door holds.

You kick again.

The doorframe splinters under the force with a shrieking groan and the door swings open.

You are met with the man who you had addressed before, holding a pistol to Price’s head. All of your boys are in the room, looking like they had been thrown in haphazardly, their arms tied behind their back and their legs held together by zip-ties.

You creep one foot into the room before the old fucker shouts out, “Stop! One more step and I blow his brains out!” As he speaks he kicks Price, not hard enough to send him to the ground, but he still lets out a small grunt of pain.

“Hands off him ye’ wanker!!” Soap shouts out from one side of the small room. He pulls against his bonds with a groan, but does not accomplish anything.

Suddenly a loud shout and a bang is heard from the farthest door. You are forced to turn around, your gun held high, as you hear the enemy continue to struggle to get in.

“You’ll be dead soon. Surrender and maybe I’ll go easy on-” suddenly his speech dissolves into a blubbering mess of groans and hiccups, all began by the distinct sound of metal sinking into flesh.

You whirl around, panicked, only to see your Captain standing over the fluttering body of the enemy commander, holding a small pocket knife.

He glances at you over his shoulder before speaking, “Hold the door, I’ll get them out.”

You do as he says, moving to crouch behind a pillar, gaze trained on the door.

“Sir,” you call out over your shoulder, “enemy heli on the roof.”

Price makes a noise of acknowledgment and quickly crouches down next to you behind the pillar, an enemy gun in his hands. You barely notice Ghost, Soap, and Gaz moving to shelter on the other side of the room before the door bursts open with a sense of finality.

————

It’s nothing short a blood bath, a mess of bullets and gunpowder framing the centerpiece of organs and body parts. Bone fragments, and limbs, and cries of pain and pleas to merciless gods. It feels like both a century and a moment before soldiers stop flooding into the room.

Price motions for you to move forward, and gestures towards your belt silently. A smoke grenade. You nod in understanding and pose right behind a door, a smoke grenade in your hand. You glance over your shoulder briefly, checking that all your boys are in place.

With a confirmation that they’re ready you pull the pin on the grenade, shut your eyes tightly, and throw it. Once you hear the smoke dispense you desperately push forward.

It feels like a fever dream, moving through smoke and cries of pain. You feel like you’re watching a movie, a compilation of photos as you feel yourself pull the trigger again and again and again. Body responding before you can even think to. You feel every movement so intensely, and yet not at all. Like a puppet you react to your instincts, watching your boy’s backs. Making sure they stay safe. By the time the smoke clears and you’re ready to move to the roof you swear you can feel yourself swimming in blood. You can feel it creeping up your shoes, your shins and your knees, you hips, up and up until it’s entering your throat and your nose- suffocating you- you can’t breathe-

“Stitch?” You’re forced back into your body by a firm hand on your shoulder. Turning your head you see Gaz standing next to you, somehow managing to pull a small, kind smile onto his face. “We’re almost out.” He soothes kindly.

You swallow the blood in your throat before nodding firmly. “Right. We’re almost out.”

————

It was surprisingly easy to take control of the helicopter, but you suppose you should have expected that. Once they’d heard the shooting and explosions beneath their feet they would have almost certainly abandoned their post in favor of helping their allies. It doesn’t truly matter to you though, their lives ended all the same.

After busting through the door, that they hadn’t even bothered to lock in their rush, it was simply a matter of taking out 3 soldiers and the pilot. A laughably easy task considering what you had just accomplished.

You leaned back in your seat on the helicopter heavily, resting your head back against the side of the beast. You feel your weariness in every bone in your body. You don’t think you’ve ever dealt so much death in such a short period of time. While you were no stranger to the feeling of taking a life, you took less than the average solider. You focused on mending, not breaking, whenever possible.

You supposed that today mending life was not in cards as much as tearing it apart. You wonder if you have what it takes to be a solider, if you break at the first sign of difficulty.

You’re broken out of your thoughts by a firm hand on your knee. You open your eyes and sit up to be met with the sight of Soap’s big blue eyes staring at you in concern.

It’s takes you a moment before you notice that he’s handing you something, his field journal. You take it with a confused glance, but he mearly gestures for you to look inside.

You look at the page he was holding open, it contains many small doodles, that despite their small size are still remarkably well done. You see doodles of Ghost and Gaz, who are sitting across from you. He’s sketched how they currently look, Gaz with his head resting on his fist as he stares at the clouds racing by. Ghost as he leans back, his arms and legs crossed.

What really draws your attention though is a question, messily scrawled beneath the doodles. Next to it is a stylized, cartoonish drawing of you, surrounded by several hearts.

The question reads, “You alright hun?”

You look up at Johnny and he blinks at you a few times before suddenly startling, like he had forgotten something, and sheepishly handing you a pencil.

You scrawl down right below Johnny’s handwriting, “I’ll live. You?” You hand his journal back to him, and watch as he scrawls down his response.

“Bit shaken, thought I was done in for a second there. At least until you stepped in <3” Next to the heart he’s drawn a goofy kissy face, equipped with his signature Mohawk and all.

Johnny and your’s silent conversation is cut short by Price shouting over the sound of the heli from up by the cockpit, “We’re landing in 2 minutes!”

“Roger that Cap!” You yell back, handing Johnny his journal back with a ruffle of his Mohawk. He gawks at you in playful insult while you go about making sure you (and your boys) are prepped for landing.

————

Once you’ve got both your feet back inside base exhaustion hits you like a tsunami wave. Now that you’re certain you’re safe the adrenaline is fading like water out of a balloon. Despite the fatigue festering in every part of your person, you’re not in bed. Instead you’re in the armory, cleaning your gear.

You want nothing more than to sleep, but it’s routine for you to make sure all of your duties are accomplished first so you can sleep well. You’re silently taking apart a pistol when you hear footsteps approaching the armory, knocking you out of your thoughts.

It’s only a moment before Price walks through the doors, surprisingly enough he’s not carrying any of his own weapons.

As soon as he sees where you’re sat on one of the benches he B-Lines to you, approaching with a speed and purpose that you’ve only seen him use on missions. The adrenaline from the mission must still be in his system, you muse. He’s been in this industry long enough for it to make sense.

“Go the fuck to sleep sergeant. The actual hell are you still doing awake?” He barks as he approaches you.

“Will soon sir.” You respond nonchalantly. “Just cleaning my gear first.”

He guffaws like it’s the most foolish thing he’s heard all day, (which says a lot considering he has gotten captured today) and gestures for you to scoot over.

You do so, slightly confused by what he intends to do. Once you’ve made room on the bench he sits down next to you and grabs your vest. As he lays it on his lap he goes through the pockets systematically, making sure the vest is perfectly up to code.

As you observe him you’re slightly surprised by his actions, you imagine he must be wanting to go to sleep after the day he’s had.

“You don’t have to help me sir.” You say carefully, tip-toeing around his grumpy outward appearance.

“A good leader always makes sure his soldiers are taken care of before himself. Now finish cleaning that pistol so we can get the fuck to bed.”

————

With Price helping you it didn’t take long for you to finish and finally head to bed. You could feel your feet sticking to the ground with every step, and it took you twice as long as it normally did to walk to your barracks from the armory.

As you approach your door you notice a slumped figure next to it, causing adrenaline from the day to start kicking back up inside you. Feeling your heart start to hammer, yet not having the energy to do anything about it, you continue to approach leisurely.

As you get closer you recognize the balaclava and all black clothing that clings to a large frame. Ghost. When you finally stand next to him you nudge his hip with your foot.

“Come on big guy.”

He blinks up at you wearily, but starts to stand all the same as you unlock your door. You walk in and throw your boots and jacket off as you approach your bed, little care for where they end up.

You flop down on your bed, the scratchy blankets and thin military mattress feeling like paradise after all you’d been through. When you see ghost’s shadow approaching out of the corner of your eye you roll over, facing the wall.

You feel Ghost lie down on your mattress and sling a heavy arm over your waist as you both settle down into a deep sleep.

It had been a hard day, but you would do it all over again for your boys.

[sovereignjojoz]

Bucci gang + embarrassing nicknames (milestone special!)

Warnings: bizarre activities, one mildly suggestive pun in Abbacchio’s, cringe names, google translate.

Pairings: Bruno x reader, Abbacchio x reader, Mista x reader, Fugo x reader, Bonus giorno x reader, Bonus Narancia x reader.

Summary: some embarrassing nicknames.

Notes-sup. It’s been a while. Narancia’s is the best imo. Happy holidays just in case I take too long with my next post!

Bruno Bucciarati

“Brubooboo!” You called out, peaking your head into the meeting room next door.

Bruno turned to look at you, evidently embarrassed at the use of your unique nickname, a faint pink hue present on his sun-kissed cheeks.

You shook your head amused at his reaction, he seemed to hate the nickname yet he never expressed his displeasure; ever the gentleman sitting there bearing the brunt of your teasing.

“Amore mio,” he smiled, regaining his composure.

You leant forward, resting your elbows on his desk whilst putting your face on the psalm of your hands. “Sup baby?” You asked, the corners of your lips turning upward.

He hummed in response, pinching the bridge of his nose. “What brings you here cara?”

You walked around the desk so you stood beside him, “I was in the area,” you explained, “I thought you’d be done and we could walk home together but clearly my brubear seems stressed.”

You pinched his cheeks, gently pecking each side.

He scoffed, exhaling, “renounce those awful nicknames.”

You pulled his head back so it was facing upwards to look you, “that would mean we’d have to break up.” You teasingly frowned.

“pensi di essere così divertente (you think you’re so funny)?” He muttered, letting out a sigh.

“I’d like to believe so.” You told him “but more importantly do you want me to bring you some dinner, it seems like you’ll be a while, I can just-”

He silenced your rambling by lifting your, interlacing your fingers with his before standing to his full height.

“It’s alright, I’m done for now at least. Torniamo a casa. (Let’s head home).” He stood up, pulling you to the exit by your hand.

You squeezed his hand, drawing closer to him.

“Shall I take out your braids and massage your head when we get home?” You mused, massaging his knuckle with your thumb.

“Sounds perfect.”

Leone Abbacchio

“Bababacchio” you sang imitating the tune of ba ba black sheep as you burst into his bedroom.

Abbacchio closed his eyes, exhaling frustratedly. Recently you’d found calling him the most ridiculously horrific names hilarious and had taken it upon yourself to purposefully make the next one worst than the last.

“What [name].” He asked monotoned, already unimpressed with you although you hadn’t even said anything.

“Chill Habba bubba,�� you raised your hands up in mock surrender, “I’m only here to sleep,” you told him crawling onto the bed beside him, “preferably next to you.”

He stood up, bunching his long silver hair up so he could tie it into a ponytail for bed, a hair tie in his mouth as he falsely contemplated what you were saying.

“If you stop with those disgusting pet names fine but say one more and i'm kicking you out.” He warned, as his nimble fingers pulled his hair through the band.

You winked at him, “Fine with me toots.” You told him spreading out on his bed, patting the empty space beside you; inviting him to lay there.

He clicked his tongue at your remark but decided not to act irrationally, using the small bit of patience he had to give you a chance.

You hummed, shifting to move more towards Abbacchio’s side of the bed as he got undressed for bed.

Abbacchio’s chiselled physique just so happened to enter your view frame, a physique which you just so happened to be rather fond of.

You could hardly be blamed for propping your face in the psalm of your hands so you could further enunciate your voice.

“Dangggg! Leone! More like le-own-me!” You teased suggestively raising your eyebrows.

In all your time knowing Leone, you’d never seen his features contort into disgust quicker, you honestly felt rather hurt, that pun had at least been painfully amusing, at the very least!

“fuori. (Out).”

“Wait I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” You apologied breathless, unsuccessfully trying to stifle your laughter behind your hand.

“Hold up! stop, let go of my ankle!” You complained as he lifted you out of his bed, dropping you on the floor.

“Leone I’m sorry, let me back in please!”

Guido Mista

“Mimi, it’s so cold!” You whined, staying as close to him as humanly possible, “and your shirt is too cropped for me to put my hands under.”

“Number one, that’s on you and secondly quit it with that name! You’re gonna ruin my street cred.”

Jokingly, you scoffed, side-eyeing him, “what street cred, you wear zebra print pants?”

He lightly pushed you away, shoving his hands in his pockets as he dragged his feet into the hotel the pair of you would be staying in.

“uscire con qualcuno che hanno detto, sarà divertente hanno detto. che bugiardo. (date someone they said, it will be fun they said. what a liar.)” Mista mumbled a tad bit too loud under his breath, kissing his teeth at the end for dramatic effect.

He kicked the door open with his foot, holding it open as you leisurely walked in after him.

“Oh whatever.” You said rolling your eyes at his dramatics, “stop acting as if you don’t relish in the privileges that come with a relationship.”

He waved his hand in the air, dismissing your sentence, “Well why wouldn’t I, they are there for me to use, right?”

You turned your nose up at him, “Hmph.”

“C’mon baby,” Mista whined drawling out the “y” sound. He encased his hands around your face, kissing your cheeks. “Let’s just have fun tonight, yeah?”

“Fineee.” You took his hands off of your face and dragged him to the receptionist desk.

The tanned male winked at you in response, “yo, could I get a room for two, king sized bed please.”

Fugo Pannacotta

“Fugie pants, fungo, pannana! Could you be a dear and help me with my homework please?”

Fugo walked into the room, mortified, with a cackling Narancia trailing behind him.

“[name]! What did we say about using such vile names!” Fugo exclaimed, positioning himself at your side.

You threw your head back, sighing, “I can’t quite recall fugs.” You answered, biting your bottom lip in an attempt to stifle your laughter.

“[name].” The young male warned curtly, squeezing your jaw so your boisterous laughter would be lessoned.

Narancia wiped his tears of laughter, high giving you as he made his way to exit. “Man, see ya around. Too funny.” Narancia mumbled to himself, his laughter still audible as he departed the room.

“Stop it.”

“But it’s so funny, if you’d just stop reacting I’d stop-”

He pinched your soft lips with his fingers, cutting your sentence off. “no.”

Mini Bonus: Giorno

“Hey Gio.”

The blonde side-eyed you curiously.

You pointed at him with your pencil, “you know if you rearrange the letters in your name you can come up with some pretty interesting name combos.”

He raised his eyebrow, interested, “oh really?”

“Uh huh. Like giovanno, Giovanni, gio-vara, gio-cara.”

Bemusedly, he smiled. “I don’t have a c in my name.”

“I know that giogio, I was trying to be cute with a cute pun.” You groaned exasperated.

“Failure was inevitable.”

“Hey!” You pouted, playfully poking his cheek, “for someone so nice you sure are cheeky.”

Bonus: Narancia Ghirga

The whole week you had been trying, yet ultimately failing, to tease Narancia by giving him an embarrassing nickname.

But despite your best efforts nothing seemed to work, he was seemingly immune to embarrassment.

You thought back on those instances, trying to recall where you had gone wrong.

“Hey my sugar plum fairy cake gumdrop!” You greeted Narancia, kissing his nose.

“What’s up my boo boo bear honey plum nugget.” He responded back with an equal amount of fervour.

You stiffened, cringing in your place, how could he say that so easily. You decided to push through, chanting the mantra “resilience is key.” In your head.

“Nothing my bubble gum sugar cube bub.”

“Alright my sweet peach bubba lover. I love you.”

You mock retched running away, as Narancia chased after you.

Total and utter defeat.

[elevenenthusiast]

I’ve been rewatching Gilmore girls and i still think their slow burn should have lasted for a little longer

[escespace]

Merlin And Arthur modern settings with a twist

Merlin walks into his trusted coffee shop. Locally owned, familiar customer service, he's known them since he moved to the city. Strangely there's someone at the cash register when he goes to place his order , it's not a place where there are lines or a lot of new customers.

He doesn't pay much attention until the conversation in front turns up the volume beyond what is normal for the quiet place.

"There is no way to screw up a simple order of black coffee and yet human idiocy ends up surprising me!" Said the burly blond who turns his back on him

"Hey hey! that's enough, My friend"

"Do I know you?" He turns to it and can tell that the front is just as impressive as his back had indicated.

"I'm Merlin..."

"so I don't know you"

And we know how this romantic introduction continues. The difference is that this time Freya, who is working the cash register, has been tired of the customer since he came into her store like a wrecking ball pushing other customers and ordering fancy franchise coffees until that after a lot of time wasting she forced him to make a normal request, then she decides to push the coffee in the hands of the unknown man as a courtesy of the house hoping that he would eventually go away (and hoping she would not have to intervene in whatever that pair is referring to by " Take You Apart" and "blows")

The unknown blond does not leave but has the decency to seem surprised by the attention he's been drawing as he retreats to the corner table.

Merlin is near the cash register to talk to Freya but it seems that the only thing he wants to talk about is the blond idiot, which tires his friend out. With a cake stuffed in his mouth she shushes him away, which makes him sit at a table with a direct view of the blonde.

From that position Merlin comes up with the brilliant idea of playing a harmless joke.After all, anyone who yells at the adorable Freya deserves it, right? I won't say yet what happens but it involves public wifi.

It's only when Arthur arrives at his apartment complex, where of course all his loved ones live, that he notices people looking at him strangely. Leon handed him a cream without saying anything when he passed by. Morgana can't stop laughing like a deranged hyena and Gwen is hovering around him like a disappointed mother, trying (and failing) to give him a lecture on safe practices (SAFE PRACTICES OF WHAT?)

After a while they finally take pity on him (more like they want to see his face when he finds out) and they show him a Twitter post he apparently made that same afternoon where he asked: "what could it mean if there are itchy welt near my You know?"

HE DOESN'T EVEN POST ON SOCIAL MEDIA

That one was definitely not posted by him. But then, what happened?

He delegates to Morgana the task of investigating what happened because he has no experience with technology and she has contacts. It is clear that someone entered his media but they doubt that it was only to post a silly message in an abandoned account.

The problem was that Morgana's contacts couldn't find anything even the next day. Luckily, Arthur was expecting it and didn't stop, instead preferring the old way. He checked the time the post was made and remembered that right at that the day before at that moment he was in the annoying cafeteria.

Surprisingly, the tall black-haired man is there again. And Arthur's not lying to himself, the back and forth he had earlier with that guy distracted him from the terrible day he'd been having, you could even say it was fun. He can go and bother him and do what he came to do, he is a multitasker and a skilled one at that.

"looking for trouble again?"

"That would be looking for you and, no thanks, I wouldn't disgrace myself that way"

...

"You think you're so smart but the truth is it takes more than just a quick tongue to get you far"

"You wish you could see my tongue being quick, my friend, you're not so lucky"

...

"that's not even a word!"

"Didn't you hear me say it? Let me repeat it, DOLLOPHEAD! That's what you are! "

...

And somehow they end up talking about why Arthur is there:

"Hahahaha! Whoever made this is a genius!"

"It's an eight-year-old's joke. It's not funny or stylish. Apart from that, this person entered my abandoned social networks, I don't even remember the last time I logged in... Who knows what else he has done with my data"

"You know what? I have exactly what you need"

He hands him a card that says "Golden Age: Private Investigation" and Arthur laughs

"What? You a private investigator?"

"If you don't want it..."

He tried to take it from his hand, but Arthur quickly put it in his suit jacket and, without stopping to stare at it, he walked away.

A week passed before he decided to visit the supposed offices of Golden Age and it was not in the least because of his problem with infiltration of his social networks. The truth was that nothing happened after the damn post. There was no missing money or corrupted files, and Morgana had her best technicians checking the devices associated with the organization at all times.

Before Arthur reaches the building where the offices are, he notices that there is a commotion in a remote place. There he finds Merlin surrounded by unfriendly looking men and what does the idiot do? He makes them even angrier with his mockery.

Arthur couldn't even get close because Merlin ended up showing them something from his phone. He held the device being too haughty and it seemed to be well earned given the cautious reactions he received

It seems that it was not enough because the next moment the thugs were advancing on the slender black-haired man. He was agile enough to get under the pile of arms but almost ran over Arthur, who was stupidly blocking the exit from the alley, before continuing straight towards the road with tremendous car traffic

Arthur will never admit that he was paralyzed when he noticed that Merlin didn't even take his eyes off his cell phone as he continued running. The thugs followed soon after, though not as nimbly, among the honking vehicles.

It was a miracle (more likely thanks to his obsessive observation skills) that he noticed what was really going on.

It wasn't that Merlin was a lucky bastard. The bastard was controlling the cars in some damn way until he finally reached the opposite end of the street Just as the police sirens started to sound nearby and the thugs had no choice but to start running towards a parked van

Now, now. If there's one thing Arthur is grateful for in life (and there isn't much of that) it's for making him smart. He's gotten to where he is because of his abilities, despite what anyone says, among which he takes most pride in his ability to recognize talents that would be valuable in his organization, and no matter what Merlin was doing he surely could serve well in the team.

Unbeknownst to Arthur, of course, that during the week he took to think about whether or not he should go to Golden Age, Merlin was also doing research and nothing he found about Arthur sat well with him.

This is then just the beginning of the most ridiculous and exasperating relationship of rivalry-friendship (and perhaps something more) between a genius hacker with a Robin Hood complex and a corporate who works on a line not very legal (aló? Mama? I'm in love with a criminal)

.

.

.

Holy heavens, have mercy on me and stop sending me ideas because I don't know how to write them!!! 😫😫😫

I swear that after so much thinking about this idea I already know what the first meeting between Arthur and Merlin's associates in Golden Age would be like: Lancelot and Gwaine (a disaster involving weapons and a very stressed Merlin). I also know that Arthur is in a relationship with Vivian at the time he accepts his friendship with Merlin for what it is (and neither of them like each other romantically at this point but they don't need to be in love to be their weird themselfs with each other) And VIVIAN BEGINS TO COMPETE ALONE FOR ARTHUR'S ATTENTION (She thinks she's competing against Merlin but the reality is there's no competition to begin with)...

Now now if only I could SIT DOWN AND WRITE INSTEAD OF FANTASIZING

[shaykai]

Durgetash doodle based off of a fic I’m writing

[myokk]

#19 from the questions: What is your general favourite thing about the character? What is your least favourite? Can be multiple if it's hard to choose!

Hi anon!!!! Thank you for the ask😭💓😭💓🫂🫂🫂

My favorite thing about her is her character. At least to me, she’s like a ghibli protagonist…she makes the wrong decisions, she doesn’t always get things right, but she’s noble and is always doing what she thinks is expected of her. She is very sweet & wears her heart on her sleeve even if she doesn’t realize it💔 I hope I can show her growth as the story goes on😭💓

At the same time, it’s kind of my least favorite thing as well. She can be REALLY frustrating to me bc she doesn’t make the same decisions I would😤 I sometimes write her accepting things that happen to her, or going along with things that are detrimental bc it’s what she thinks she should be doing, AND IT’S PAINFUL !!!!!! I JUST WANT TO SHAKE SOME SENSE INTO HER !!!!! But then I remember how stupid I was at sixteen…remembering that *I* survived my teens somehow & I was WAY worse than she is and learned my lesson😆😆 and I’m like…she will be fine😌

[newtkelly]

.

[thevampiremasquerade]

I’m trying to post my other story asap before i go to Egypt but i keep rewriting it because i’m not satisfied with it at all lmao

[small-spark-of-light]

some kc glows and co in these trying times

[blairamok]

i’m feeling more normal these days, i’ve been enjoying my break immensely. i want to talk and post about my AU again, even though i said i wanted to keep it to myself for a bit, but i love sharing it so much. i just need to get my brain into a space that can ignore the stressful comments because i know they’ll never really go away lol

[kradogsrats]

me realizing that they had the guy named for the lighthouse guiding the huge-ass blind dragon around

[letssofia3006]

You know what’s even better than waking up with a certain someone absolutely annihilating your notifications with likes? When they escalate to a full-blown reblog spree.