#if I wrote him too ooc

[feroluce]

I love the fact that the Silvermane Guards are essentially just a very devoted "We Love Gepard Landau" fanclub, and I desperately need for all of them to get into ship wars about it behind their Captain's back. The soldiers are all split into several factions:

Some of them ship him with Sampo 🛡💣 (enemies to lovers/hateship enjoyers; this does not necessarily mean they like Sampo- in fact it's more like most of them want to sic their Captain on him skzjsmdm)

Some of them ship him with Bronya 👑🛡 (knight and princess trope enjoyers and also a sorta-kinda "that is our mom and dad" type of deal; this faction gets riled up and ridiculously hypes Gepard up to Bronya every time she comes down to the frontlines mskdkxmd)

Some of them ship him with the trailblazer 🛡💫 (the smallest and newest faction, but steadily gaining!)

Some of them ship him with Pela ❄🛡 (workplace romance enjoyers; Gepard once charged out into the Fragmentum alone to save Pela from an expedition gone horribly wrong, and when this faction saw Gepard carrying Pela back princess style they threw a whole party)

Some of them ship him with Dunn 🛡🗡 (also workplace romance; Dunn is very flattered by this because yeah wrong Landau, but wow, the troops really think he's good enough to woo the Captain, what an honor)

And some of them ship themselves with the Captain 🛡❤ (yumejoshi enjoyers; this faction throws a massive group effort every Valentine's Day and are also all very supportive of each other)

The final faction is an odd one, because they're defined not by who they ship their beloved Captain Gepard with, but rather by who they don't ship him with. Their name is generally shortened to the A.B.S. Group- Anybody BUT Sampo 🚫💣 DKSZJJSMSOZ

[glow-worms-are-believers]

Make off (dp x dc)

The important thing here was not to panic, Jazz thought to herself as she strained against her restraints fruitlessly. She tried to take a deep breath but the dirty gag that had been shoved into her mouth made it hard to do. In fact, with the way the left side of her face was swelling due to that punch she'd gotten earlier, breathing was hard in general right now. Jazz was in bad shape and she knew it.

She'd known Gotham was a dangerous choice, but she'd thought if she took precautions, if she stayed out of everything, she would be fine. She was a psych major in a city with lots of insane psychopaths, sure, but she was angling for family therapy, which was very much not going to put her anywhere near the infamous Arkham. And yet.

Jazz closed her eyes. It was useless to dwell on the past when she needed all her capacities to escape her current situation. She consciously did not look over to the misshapen pile she could see in a corner of the room, and very carefully did not take note of how she could distinguish the shape of something that looked like a cut off arm. Instead, she looked to the side, towards a slumped, tied up figure. He looked to be in his early twenties. Jazz managed to nudge at him with her foot in an attempt to wake him up.

It took a few tries before the guy started moving. It had taken the guy a second to come to, and when he did it was with a muffled shout. Jazz looked around, alarmed that someone had heard. She desperately tried to catch his eye as she vigorously shook her head in an attempt to signal him to shut up. He seemed to understand the message, but it was unfortunately too late.

"Oh, good. The new shipment is awake." It was a man in a white lab coat that had come out of a door off to the side. He was wearing surgical gloves and had rolled in a gurney. Jazz backed away from the man which simultaneously pressed herself into the wall, behind the other victim. As she did she felt a sharp pain in her arm as something sharp pressed into it. Could it be?

"I usually have more in stock but harvest has been poor lately."

Jazz made a show of pressing herself closer to the wall in fear to disguise her tracing the outline of the sharp thing. It felt like a piece of metal that was sticking out of the broken down, rusty walls.

The man in white looked over at her before he turned his attention towards the other victim. He strode over, crouched next to the bound man before grabbing his chin to tilt it upwards. The guy struggled against the grip but their kidnapper held firm.

Jazz took the opportunity to position her bound hands against the sharp thing and start sawing her restraint on the sharp edge experimentally. Back and forth.

"Hm," the scientist mused as he turned the guy's face to the sides, before letting go and brushing his hand against his pristine pants. Jazz stopped moving. "You'll do," he concluded before turning towards the gurney and taking a few things out of the side pockets.

Jazz started on the sawing again, this time more vigorously, grateful her partner in adversity was partially hiding her by the way he was positioned. She looked up to make sure her abductor was busy and caught him inserting the needle of a syringe into a bottle of unknown substance. She stifled a hiss as she cut the skin of her wrist on accident, and carried on her repetitive motion. She could feel the zip-tie starting to give way when the creep turned back towards them with a full syringe.

"Here we go," he said as he turned towards the younger man who just glared at him. The creep paid it no mind as he plunged the syringe into the younger guy's neck and pushed the plunger all the way down. Her fellow captive tried to headbutt the creep but he evaded it.

The creep turned back towards the gurney and Jazz took the chance. She gave a big heave and was rewarded by the snap of the zip-ties. After that it all happened very fast.

The creep started to turn around, only to be met with Jazz's roundhouse kick to the head. She immediately turned to the gurney, betting on there being a scalpel and was rewarded with the sight of a surgical knife instead. She grabbed it and made short work of her fellow captive's restraint.

As she was helping his up, a voice came from the corridor the creep had come out. "Boss?"

Jazz froze.

"You ok, Boss?" came a second voice.

Jazz looked to the now-freed man who looked back intently, though she could see how hard he was trying not to lose focus. Whatever was in the syringe was starting to take hold. She didn't know how many guys where there and her companion was clearly in no condition to help her fight. Their best chance was to run away and regroup later.

Jazz didn't have time to hesitate, she grabbed the guy's arm and started running down one of the tunnels leading away from the approaching voices.

Hopefully a head-start would be enough to make up for her flagging companion.

[otomes-and-tears]

i love your shya fanfic. So, i will be requesting one with Pran!! What if it was all cute, Pran becomes a bit more social with JB because he's slowly internally getting comfortable with Her, JB points it out and he gets flustered/embarassed over it and continues to ignore her for 2 days. (Do with this what you will. You're allowed to change up some things for the sake of making it in-character)

♦ Unavoidable Orbit ♦

► tags/warnings: -

► summary: Pran doesn't understand why Jb wants him.

► words: 866

► a/n: GLAD TO FEED PRAN NATION!!

► Masterlist

Pran’s world was supposed to be quiet. Predictable.

The kind of place where he could walk through the halls without catching a single glance, where no one bothered him unless absolutely necessary.

His version of peace was a delicate balance of avoidance and detachment, where he could never disappoint anyone because no one ever expected anything from him in the first place. He didn’t even offer the bare minimum.

And he’d had it.

He’d mastered it.

Then JB happened.

Jb was… Insistent, for lack of a better word.

She was utterly averse to any kind of rejection. Pran knew, from experience, that she’d much rather insist, insist and insist, push all buttons she could find, and win someone over through sheer exhaustion than simply accept a world in which someone wouldn’t want her. No matter how much he insisted on his lack of interest, how boring he made himself out to be, or how he’d perfected the art of the dead-eyed stare.

JB simply didn’t care.

It was exhausting. She was exhausting. 

And Pran wasn’t built for people like her—for JB’s sheer energy, her endless search for praise and validation, the way she preened under the spotlight. 

She was meant for people like Everett: shallow, willing to indulge her in banter and join her in making fun of other people. Or someone like Shiloh, who’d blindly follow her wherever she led, feeding her endless, meaningless praise, doing whatever he must for her amusement.

(he tries to forget about how she insisted, in a tone more serious than Pran had ever heard from her, that no matter how many books Shiloh carried for her, she was happy with Pran and wouldn’t trade him for anyone)

Pran ran from the type of attention she so eagerly sought out, but somehow, he’d ended up in her grasp anyway. Held tightly in her claws, blinded by the spotlight that followed her. Nothing seemed to be a deterrent, no matter how hard he tried to escape or how much he pushed her away.

No indifference seemed indifferent enough. His words just made her laugh. His silence didn’t faze her. Her presence became an ever-present part of his routine, as sure as Jeremy’s apathy.

So why couldn’t he hate her?

He hated everything about this. He hated that above all else he had begun to look forward to their dates, that he grew to enjoy her company, even when she was annoying and too loud. He hated how he didn’t even notice when he started answering her questions with full phrases instead of regarding them with annoyed silence.

He hated that he knew her favourite animals were bears, that he knew exactly what songs she’d pick at karaoke, and how he’d caught himself humming along to them later. He hated how he noticed that, even if she made fun of his preferences, she cared enough to respect them.

Pran gave her the bare minimum. Why was that enough?

“You’re talking to me more lately,” JB noted one day, her grin sharp and teasing as she poked his cheek. She sits close, too close, content under the cool shade of a large tree he likes to sit under. “Does this mean you’re finally realizing how charming I am?”

He’d snatched her hand away, careful not to hurt her, begging his face to remain impassive.

 “No.” 

He’d snapped, voice even, but a little too defensive. The answer is almost automatic in its frequency.

She’s unfettered, however. 

“Sure, sure…” JB said, that grin growing somehow more insufferable. “It’s okay to like your girlfriend, you know. I’m extremely likeable.”

“Go away.” 

He’d muttered, and she only laughed in response. When had she ever listened to him?

“Aww, look at you, all embarrassed!” She’d leaned in, and he’d known, he’d known, she’d read him like an open book “I’m winning, Pran.”

He’d ignored her. Completely. For two whole days.

At first, he felt relief. His world had returned to quiet predictability. 

No interruptions. No poking at his patience.

It was what he’d wanted, wasn’t it?

By the second day, that quiet began to feel too loud. He’d catch himself glancing down the hall, expecting her voice to cut through the noise of students passing by. She’d been there so often, it felt unnatural for her to be gone. He’d check his phone more than usual, not that he’d admit why, but the silence stretched on.

And on the third day, he’d opened his phone to find a single text from her.

> are you done being dramatic yet? i’m bored.

His fingers hovered over the keyboard. He stared at the screen for far too long. She didn’t send anything else. No follow-ups, no obnoxious selfies, no string of emojis. Just the single message, waiting for him to find it.

He hated how that made his chest feel tight.

He hated it even more when he found himself typing back.

> I’m still ignoring you.

Her reply came in seconds as if she was sitting by her phone, just waiting for his inevitable response.

> lol sure. meet me after class, panda

His head hit the desk. He didn’t delete the message.

He’d never tell her, but he’d already planned to.

[azul-marie]

leon. (brume)

fem. reader. angst, suggestive mentions.

your husband is a stranger.

the man you married months ago has been reduced to nothing, ground to bits, reborn as a soldier, a tool, a puppet. he is no longer yours; he will never be again.

the color of the sky, his eyes shone bright, now sullen and sunken with unspoken hurt. hollow cheeks from missed meals, dark bags from little sleep. of these things and more, he says nothing. shares nothing. and you let him be, out of love, out of fear, to keep the distance between the two of you from growing further apart.

nevertheless, he treats you much the same. still kisses you soft, still holds you close in all the ways he knows you like. but there is a new edge behind his movements. unfamiliar. paranoid. his hands, calloused in places they weren’t before, grip too tightly your own when you’re out and about. his unnerving stares towards alleys and doorways, his too quick response to his hip at every sound. was he always this way? or was it the city, the hell that brought it out?

leon, you’d whisper, come lay down and rest.

he listens. in the evenings he curls up next to you, lets your scent, your warmth, engulf him like a cloud. a tangible reminder of what he wants to protect. lets you tuck his face close up against your heart. he listens to its beating until it slows to a pulse, then slips away to stand guard at the front door again. and when you wake up alone in the dark, you pretend his version in your dreams sleeps soundly besides you.

leon, your arms hug around his waist, make love to me today.

he listens. be it by day or moonlight, he indulges you in every way you ask. his too rough hands grabbing, bruising, taut muscles grown slick with sweat and lips parting to kiss at your breasts. this body is unfamiliar, no matter the pleasure it brings. his newly assigned training, grueling and relentless, has wrung out every bit of softness he once had — he is sharp, cutting at your flesh, pulling and shaping you beyond what you knew. who is this stranger, loving you as he did? who is this man, whose dark eyes you avoid when he looks at you?

“leon,” you plead, sorrow in your throat, “please tell me you love me.”

he is quiet. stops stuffing his go-bag with mission ready supplies, beckoned by an early morning phone call before dawn even crackled through the sky. a part of him wishes to throw this godforsaken bag out the door, or crush his phone into the pavement and hope he finds a way to keep from being found. another wishes you’d just go back to sleep.

“you know i do.” he replies without turning around, voice heavy with a humorless sort of huff. a disbelieving sound. “don’t tell me you forgot already.”

“just tell me, please. say it before you go.” your voice breaks faintly at the end.

leon turns and peers so intensely at you that tears swell forth in your eyes. it prevents you from discerning his expression. was it one of pity? exasperation? you bury your face into your hands, woe bubbling up like a spring.

strong arms embrace you. whispers of affirmation dull against your sobs, against the outpour displaying your silent suffering. if only you could find comfort in this man’s arms. in the way he kisses your seasalt tears across your cheeks, how tenderly he runs his hands through your hair. through the blur, you see the youth of your love, the hopeful candor who was once your leon. when you blink, then blink again, it is the face of a jaded, somber man who gazes at you the same way he did, once upon a dream.

“i do. i swear i do.” leon insists. he presses kiss after kiss on every inch of your pretty face, unsure how else to soothe you. “you’re everything to me, remember? you’re why i’m still here. you’re all i have. please don’t cry, darling. i love you, i love you.”

you close your eyes. bask in the noise. if you try hard enough, you can still make out the soft cadence of your leon’s voice hidden beneath his baritone pain. but it’s not him, is it? it’s not anymore. try, try harder, and perhaps you’ll learn to love him like the leon he was before. maybe then his kisses wouldn’t feel like thorns, and his hugs wouldn’t choke you blue.

“i just want you back. that’s all i really want. please stay here, don’t leave me waiting alone.

oh, leon, please don’t go again.”

[danmeichael]

Mo Ran is 13 years old. He is at this horrible dinner party with his not-horrible aunt and uncle, and his only-annoying cousin. People keep getting up on stage and being presented with awards, and he has to clap for all of them because it's polite. He isn't entirely sure what's being celebrated and he doesn't really care, either.

His suit is itchy, the food doesn't taste good, and he really wishes he were at home playing a video game and eating fast food slathered in chili oil.

It's too loud, and it reeks here. So many alphas trying to show off how big their dick is, and omegas trying to bolster their alpha's ego by proving what a prized mate they are. What they're expected to do. What Mo Ran will one day be expected to do.

Mo Ran wasn't paying attention to what was going on on stage until suddenly his uncle jostled him and started pointing excitedly at the next person getting an award.

Ah, being here made sense now. It was Chu Wanning. One of uncle's friends, and probably the prettiest person on earth second only to Mo Ran's late mother. He didn't know how anyone could be that pretty in real life. He's smart, and he puts too much sugar in his coffee when he thinks nobody's looking, and he's an Omega, too, just like Mo Ran.

He proves just how smart he is by immediately starting on a short lecture the moment the presenter hands him the microphone. Most of the people in the ballroom are completely silent, save for a few whispers.

Nobody seems to comprehend anything he's saying, which means they're particularly stupid because Mo Ran understands at least half of it.

When he finishes speaking and is presented with his award most of the room claps out of obligation. Xue Zhengyong and Xue Meng leap up into a standing ovation and start cheering. Even his aunt joins in, more quietly.

"That's my Yuheng! Woo!"

"LAOSHI IS THE BEST!"

"That's our boy!"

Even drowned in the bright white lights of the stage, Chu Wanning's reddening face is obvious. His expression stays mostly the same, but Mo Ran thinks he sees his eye twitch.

Everyone seems ecstatic until the alpha presenter lingers a little too long at Chu Wanning's side, talking to him.

There's an odd tension from his aunt and uncle, like a cup you filled up just past the top that stays in place only thanks to surface tension.

The tension breaks when the presenter puts a hand on the small of Chu Wanning's back.

Wang Chuqing is also an alpha, but she doesn't stink like the rest of them. Her smell is usually faint and clean and warm. Not right now. Despite the calm neutrality of her expression, her scent is angry and hot, scorching, so strong it's just shy of giving Mo Ran a headache

It only abates when Xue Zhengyong grasps her hand.

Mo Ran thinks that they share a heart, that Wang Chuqing's rage is her husband's as well, and vice versa. That's how he can tell how close she is to snapping, even though Xue Zhengyong is a beta.

The presenter smiles in a way Mo Ran is quite sure he thinks looks charming.

"Chu-xiansheng, you're doing incredible work in your field! Beautiful, intelligent, making a name for yourself. Any Alpha would be lucky to have an omega like you!"

Here we go again.

There is only a momentary pause as Chu Wanning takes the microphone from him without looking at him. Like he isn't worth it.

With the same burning cold neutrality he almost always affects, Chu Wanning says "Any Alpha would be lucky to be me."

Mo Ran is frozen even as his aunt and uncle start tidying their place settings, gathering their things in preparation to leave.

Any Alpha would be lucky to be me.

Mo Ran was not aware of the shackles around his ankles until Chu Wanning clicked a key in place to unlock them. He didn't know their weight until he realized he didn't have to carry them. They were turning him black and blue, how had nobody told him not wearing them was an option? That being the extension of someone was not compulsory?

He's only pulled out of what he might later call a religious awakening when Chu Wanning rushes past the table with bright red cheeks.

"We're leaving," he says, as close to frantic as Mo Ran has ever heard him.

Xue Zhengyong laughs triumphantly as he half-jogs behind him. "Way ahead of you, Wanning!"

Wang Chuqing makes sure he and Xue Meng are a few steps ahead of her before she joins the precession. "What do you say we stop for dinner on the way home?"

The discussion of dinner plans that follows is loud enough to drown out all the whispering, and Mo Ran's revelation renders anything he catches meaningless anyway.

[stillsolo]

so for years and years, i've been under the belief that han's blog anniversary is oct 16th — but it turns out i'm wrong? archive says i made this blog in sept, so then i was like wait, oh yeah! he was a sideblog long before i moved over to the swrpc. with that in mind, i logged out, logged into my super old art blog where i kept him as a sideblog, and according to my sideblog, it says i created him on tumblr in FEB???

idk how to explain to y'all how extraordinarily confused i am by this development that's apparently not a development at all bc i've just been a haplessly confused old man this whole time

[passthroughtime]

today i’m thinking about “different first meeting” kuwagami scenario where kuwana is acquainted with kaito beforehand, BUT not as friends, but as fuckbuddies at most. maybe, even just as a one night stand.

yagami comes to kaito’s apartment because he couldn’t reach him or something, and sees another new guy coming out of his shower; this isn’t news for him that kaito occasionally hooked up with random women and men alike, with preference in the former. yagami pays kuwana no mind and actively deflects any advances from him, thinking that kuwana sees him as another fuckbuddy of kaito. yagami doesn’t fuck around that much, and definitely isn’t in the mood to find somebody to stay the night with: they have an urgent case, and there isn’t any other thing on his mind at the moment.

while kuwana falls in love with yagami at the first sight. sure it’s weird to fall for a business partner of the guy he just fucked and isn’t going to remember for long. but, yagami is perfect, in some stupid way. kuwana says something dumb, gets rejected, and his hurting heart tells him he can’t let yagami go. he hasn’t felt this way about anyone in years.

so, he starts to hang around kaito much more frequently, they may even be called friends at some point. yagami thinks they are dating; this is the last thing kuwana wants him to think.

although, they click with each other pretty quickly; with all the annoyance, it’s fun to bicker with him, rarely being serious, picking on him and being picked on in turn. but it also frustrates yagami, because he sees that kuwana doesn’t really care about kaito (the amount he'd expect of the guy kaito is together with). while kuwana sees that yagami worries for kaito, and thinks that it’s in that way. once, he, heartbroken and losing hope, asks what yagami sees in kaito (as a possible romantic partner), but words it badly and is understood even worse. yagami falls out with kuwana, and they stop talking altogether.

yagami sulks and is very upset, because he thought they had something special going there, even if it was just a mutual interest, which wouldn’t turn into anything else. kuwana stops talking to kaito, explaining to him that it was because he couldn’t bear to be with yagami in one room when he hates him so much. his words kind of insinuate of kuwana’s feelings for yagami, but kaito doesn’t catch the hint.

some time passes, and yagami and kaito talk about kuwana. yagami says that he regrets so much cutting kuwana off from his life. kaito remembers what kuwana said, tells it to yagami as word for word as he could remember, and though he doesn’t understand what’s wrong, yagami sees kuwana’s message clearly.

yagami can’t reach him by his number (it’s out of service), so he comes to his house in ijincho. he isn’t home, but yagami waits for him. approaching his house, kuwana sees him sitting on the steps and asks, “did you not cuss me enough?” and everything he says is openly antagonizing. yagami tries to talk to him calmly, but with time kuwana, unyielding, starts to piss him off. yagami says something along, “and here i thought you’d want me to apologize to you” and storms out the house with an intention to drink this anger away and come back.

kuwana isn’t able to stop him (when he tries, yagami punches him in the nose so hard kuwana sees stars, and it starts bleeding), but he finds him leaning on the railing in the nearby parking lot, with cheep beer in his hands. “you didn’t escape far. feeling guilty?”, kuwana asks, meaning his injury. “yes,” yagami answers, meaning the argument that lead them to stop talking with each other.

kuwana asks to share his beer with him, to which yagami complies, and jokes about them having an indirect kiss. “so childish,” yagami says, “we are long past the age of indirect kisses.” “do you want an ‘adult’ kiss?” kuwana jokingly asks, falling into their playful type of talking naturally. “yes,” yagami answers, and kuwana hears no ridicule in turn. he kisses him and tries to say that he wanted to kiss him for as long as they know each other.

“i knew that all this time,” yagami interrupts him, “but i didn’t want a kiss from somebody who isn’t serious about it.” after kuwana’s question of what has changed, yagami answers, “because now i also know you want more from me than this, or sex, or whatever. makes kissing you a lot less disgusting.” kuwana laughs, and yagami steals this sound with another kiss.

[nyk-is-always-lurking]

Rc9gn au where after the finale Randy realizes that the ninja is no longer needed so after some time thinking it over he decides he will give up the mantle as the ninja and mind wipe himself with the ultimate lesson.

Except there's one teeny tiny problem. The door to the ultimate lesson keeps evading him, and every time he gets there the nomicon gets one of the doodles to pluck him out of reach. So apparently the Nomicon doesn't want Randy to stop being the ninja. So he doesn't wipe his memories and just continues life as normal, keeping the mask and nomicon with him at all times just in case but never putting the mask on.

This basically continues until adulthood, but before he graduated he had the brilliant idea of still going into the nomicon, either to train or just to tell it about his day. He does this like every other day until he dies of old age right.

And then far into the future, long after his death, someone has to take up the mantle of the ninja of norrisville again. And when they go into the Nomicon there's the usual nomicon advice and training but sometimes there's also someone else. They show up in various stages of their life, as a teen, adult, old man etc. And that person will give some advice that the nomicon can't really help with. Like non ninja related things.

And now there are two beings in the nomicon. One is the embodiment of all the experiences of the past ninjas, and one is the first and only ninja to never forget who he was

[thepatronsaintoffilth]

Heyy ,I don't mean to be rude or anything,but I really hope you will update ur Heisenberg fic bc I just LOVE ur writing and how you depict him !!

Your are like in my top three people who actually depict his personality spot on and I have been rereading it over and over agian ,hope this reaches you well 😋

Oh my goodness, thank you so much for this :) Top three? You don't know how happy that makes me, its insane.

I haven't given up on the story. I want this next chapter so bad. Probably even more than anyone else that's waiting for it. I'm dealing with some mental stuff (working on it - with professionals, even!), some family stuff and money stuff.

All that noise crowds out my writing, especially for bigger projects like YSLT. I'm lucky if I can get out the occasional short or text post/snippet these days. I want it so bad, but I know not to force it when things get this bad.

Good-ish news, just something to consider: I have the bulk of this next chapter's word count done ... sort of. It's technically already written, but its jumbled, incomplete and needs a LOT of connective tissue to finish it before i edit and proofread.

I don't have it in me right now, but its still on my mind, every day.

💞Saint

[alaricseer]

Always kind of a bummer to think about how the changes ive made to ala over the years so that i could enjoy him more are also ones that have made him more... niche? Or less generally palatable? But i also know i cant go backwards, nor do i want to.

[endawn]

if one were to receive an unprompted letter from pax, they should consider themself a person he holds a very high opinion of. he is not one to write much. to sit down and take the time.

[dayurno]

we’ve talked about nurse jean but have you ever thought about nurse kevin. have u. worlds most awkward most attentive nurse in the world. picturing him in scrubs as we speak

OF COURSE I HAVE i listen well obviously i have thought about it. first of all i am into nurse costumes with the little dresses so you can jot it down if you want, but even besides that its really cute……………. little scrubs……….. i feel like although kevin is not a nurturing person at all he would be such a good nurse, if a forceful one….. i think he would do great at telling people what to do and how to do it to get better and all things considered might even be a good nurse. plus if you hit your head really hard and ended up in a hospital and saw kevin day over you checking your vitals wouldnt you think he was an angel?

i wrote a kevjean fic once lovingly titled nurse kevin because it was about the stretch of time jean stayed in palmetto before usc where kevin kind of helped abby take care of jean’s injuries (mostly out of guilt, mostly out of a secret second reason). he was really good and diligent but not gentle at all… truly bulldozing jean back to health…. here’s a funny scene

“Don’t Kevin me, I am serious. If you hurt yourself for any reason, I will make you regret it.” He tilts Jean’s chin back, pushing the mouth of his own bottle through Jean’s lips and forcing water down. As a nurse, Kevin makes a tremendous athlete. “Drink. It’s good to get some water in you every few minutes.”

Cool water slips down his throat. A bit of it drips down the corner of Jean’s mouth, and it must soften the nasty stare he gives Kevin over the bottle. Kevin swipes it away with his thumb, squeezing Jean’s chin, and only pulls away when Jean cannot take it anymore and forcefully grips his wrist.

This is… this is babying, even for Kevin Day.

“I am not an invalid,” Jean tells him, but he is so thoroughly ignored in lieu of Kevin checking on his bandages that it doesn’t matter. “Kevin, I’m fine.”

“You’re fine when I see that you’re fine,” Kevin dismisses him. At last, he straightens up, then taps on the small of Jean’s back for him to do the same. Out of habit, and perhaps something else, Jean does as he says. “Keep your posture up. You might upset your stitches otherwise.”

SO YEAH horrible horrible nurse who does not care at all if you dont want to be healthy…… i need him. he could fix me. he did not fix jean but me for sure he would

[ladyseidr]

okay so i decided, fuck it, let's be honest: sam, dean, and jess are Official muses now <3

[darabeatha]

the rules are simple! post characters you’d like to roleplay as, have roleplayed as, and might bring back. then tag ten people to do the same ( if you can’t think of ten, just write down however many you can and tag that number of people ). please repost, don’t reblog!

Current Muse:

Constantine XI (fgo)

Ashwatthama (fgo)

Vlad III (fgo)

Jason (fgo)

Camazotz (fgo)

Arjuna (fgo)

karna (fgo)

Odysseus (fgo)

Edmond Dantes (fgo)

Robin Hood (fgo)

Billy the kid (fgo)

Sherlock Holmes (fgo)

Daybit (fgo)

Tezcatlipoca (fgo)

Charlemagne (fgo)

Moctezuma II (fgo)

Duryodhana (fgo)

Ritsuka Fujimaru (fgo)

kukulkan (fgo)

tlaloc (fgo)

Saito Hajime (fgo)

Nitocris (fgo)

Moriarty ruler & archer (fgo)

Nero Claudius (fgo)

Castor (fgo)

Asclepius (fgo)

Antonio Salieri (fgo)

Morgan (fgo)

Baobhan Sith (fgo)

Barghest (fgo)

Oberon (fgo)

Arash (fgo)

Gilgamesh caster & archer (fgo)

Arthur Pendragon & alter (fgo)

Henry Jekyll and Hyde (fgo)

L.ucifer (fgo)

Want to write:

TO BE HONEST; right now I'm pretty chill but I definitely want to write an angel! Gabriel or Uriel or Michael

Have written (in Tumblr & other platforms):

(I'm not going to list all my f.ate muses bc that would make the list super long so I'll mainly focus on characters from different fandoms, if they are all on the same line its bc they were inside a multiuse)

Norton Campbell ( Identity v )

Aesop Carl ( Identity v )

Espresso cookie ( Cookie run )

Zhongli, Xiao, Kazuha, Diluc, Albedo, Kaeya + more ( Genshin Impact )

Giyuu ( kny )

Tsurumaru Kuninaga ( Touken Ranbu )

Heshikiri, Ishikirimaru, Kasen, Nagasone, Ookurikara, Shokudaikiri, Mikazuki ( Touken Ranbu )

Doppo Kannonzaka, Gentaro (as guest muse) ( Hypnosis mic )

Samatoki ( Hypnosis mic )

Akutagawa, Chuuya , Ranpo, Fyodor, Dazai, etc ( bungou stray dogs )

Cain, Shylock, Mithra, Lennox, Nero, Oz, Bradley, Chloe, Faust ( Mahoyaku )

Would write again:

Norton Campbell ( identity v )

Aesop Carl ( identity v )

Tsurumaru ( or any of my other touken ranbu muses )

tagging: Y O U

[eldritchborn]

I need to break Valtiels muse back in so you should send some asks to the weird angel

[avirael]

FFxivWrite 2024

Day 15 - Kindness (Free Day)

“Haurchefant!”, A’viloh yelled as he noticed the Elezen at the lower end of the staircase while looking down into the entrance hall. Quickly he followed him downstairs. “Rael told me you were looking for me.”

“Right.”, he said with a bright smile. “And here you are! I have to admit when you weren’t home yet when I arrived back home from the Congregation earlier, I was a little worried something might have happened to you on your way home.”

“Oh! No, I’m fine! I just brought Chloé to the stables and walked a bit through the city.”, the Miqo’te explained. “I am sorry if I caused you to worry.”

“No, it’s alright. I should have known you could take care of yourself after this impressive show of strength today.”, Haurchefant chuckled.

“Well... then let me use this opportunity to thank you once again for such a wonderful gift and also for your support and cheering me on like this.”, A’viloh said and smiled at the Elezen. “I wouldn’t have been able to do this without your and Rael’s help.”

But Haurchefant shook his head. “I’m sure you would have anyway. And it of course goes without saying that I should support such a good friend as you are.”

“I don’t think it’s that obvious.”, the Miqo’te pondered. “At least I am not taking it for granted. Also that you spent so much time with me the last few weeks. First at Camp Dragonhead, when I wasn’t feeling well, and now here. Your kindness helped me a lot in this strange city.”

Haurchefant laughed slightly and A’viloh realised what he had said. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to insult your home of course. Ishgard is beautiful, as is this house. Very comfortable in fact… but still… it’s so unfamiliar for me. And some days I feel horribly lost and lonely.”

“That’s only understandable…”, Haurchefant offered reassuringly. “But I am glad to hear I could help you. I only wish for you to be happy. After everything you’ve done for all of us, you certainly deserve it.”

“I don’t know…”, A’viloh said and the sadness still lingered on his face. “I am not as special as all of you make it sound sometimes…”

“Of course you are!”, Haurchefant protested but A’viloh just shrugged. For a moment the Elezen seemed to think, then he exclaimed, “Oh! I know something that might cheer you up! Have you ever seen northern lights?”

“Have I ever seen what?”, A’viloh replied in confusion.

“Oh, splendid!”, Haurchefants beamed and asked a servant to fetch their coats. “I think you would love the northern lights, come one!”

Too puzzled to protest A’viloh followed him to the door, where a servants already handed the Elezen their coats. Quickly Haurchefant put on his own coat before helping A’viloh into his and then opened the door for him.

“Thank you.”, the Miqo’te whispered. “But where are we going?”

“Only to the pavilion.”, Haurchefant explained. “Don’t worry, you won’t freeze! There should be a fire. I can’t promise that we will see any northern lights though. It is rare for them to be visible from the city, but at least the sky is clear enough to see the stars tonight, so there is a chance...”

So far the night sky had mostly been hidden by clouds since they arrived here in Ishgard. At least the stars had never been so clear and shining as they were this night.

A’viloh found it strange how the stars over such a far-away and cold city could remind him of the night sky in the desert. The constellations were slightly different of course but the sea of glimmering lights was just as infinite and beautiful as he remembered.

There in fact was a small fire lit in a crozier inside the little pavilion at the side of Fortemps manor. The tiny building had been positioned so you could overlook some of the rooftops of Ishgard and also have a free view at the snowy mountains and the night sky above.

Since A’viloh had forgotten his gloves he stretched out his hands to warm them at the fire. Meanwhile Haurchefant stepped closer towards the lookout over the city and let his eyes scan the sky.

“There!”, he suddenly exclaimed and raised an arm to point at the sky. “It’s not much, but look, there in the distance!”

Curiously A’viloh looked up and followed with his gaze where the Elezen pointed. At first he couldn’t see anything but after a moment he caught sight of the faint, green glowing whirls in the sky. He gasped and hurried to Haurchefants side, leaning onto the banister of the pavilion to get a better look at this curious, beautiful appearance. For a few moment he just wordlessly stared to the sky, his eyes shining brighter with wonder than the stars in the sky.

“This is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen…”, he whispered.

“Truly…”, Haurchefant replied but it wasn’t the sky he looked at. “There it is again, that pretty smile of yours.”

Startled A’viloh turned his eyes to Haurchefant who looked back at him smiling fondly.

Carefully the Elezen rested one hand on A’viloh’s and although it surprised the Miqo’te he didn’t pull it away. He wasn’t sure what this was but it felt comfortable. So often he felt horribly lost and hopeless and lonely but not when Haurchefant was around. His courage and cheerfulness were so contagious.

Tentatively the Elezen raised his other hand to caress A’viloh’s cheek and A’viloh couldn’t help but lean into the warmth he provided.

“I like you, A’viloh.”, Haurchefant confessed quietly and a little hesitantly the Miqo’te replied. “I like you too…”

He didn’t know if he really meant it the same way as him. But maybe this was enough for now.

“I would like to kiss you…”, the Elezen whispered almost silently and although it wasn’t a question it sounded like one.

What does it matter anymore?, A’viloh asked himself and nodded barely visible. Maybe I can be happy after all…

But he knew it felt wrong even before Haurchefants had leant down to him, about to close the distance between them.

He wanted to try, he wished it felt different but —

Wordlessly he raised a hand to the Elezen’s lips and turned away. Why did this feel so wrong all of a sudden? Why couldn’t he just he happy?

“I’m so sorry”, he whispered. “I can’t…”

Carefully he glimpsed to Haurchefant who looked so confused.

“There is someone else…”, A’viloh explained without really knowing anymore who it was he was talking about. But did it really matter? The result was the same. “There was, I mean… He is gone…”

“I am sorry…”, Haurchefant offered but A’viloh shook his head.

“No, I should be sorry.”, he repeated and evaded Haurchefants eyes with a sad expression on his face. “I’ve given you false hope. But I thought I could…”

“It’s alright.”, Haurchefant said softly and instead took A’viloh’s hand and pressed a light kiss to his knuckles. ”You really don’t need to explain yourself to me. And no need for such a sad face. Wasn’t this a wonderful evening until now?”

“It was.”, A’viloh agreed and smiled as he noticed the Elezen was still smiling at him too.

“Do you want to tell me about it?”, Haurchefant asked but A’viloh didn’t want to ruin the mood a second time. “Maybe another time…”

The Elezen reassuringly put a hand on his shoulder.

“Fine. But you can always talk to me if you want. You are a friend, A’viloh, and you will always be, no matter what.”

A’viloh felt so silly for rejecting someone as kind as Haurchefant. He was such an unconditional, wonderful friend. He himself on the other hand…

“I just wished I could be such a good friend for others as you are…”, the Miqo’te admitted and looked to the ground.

This seemed to surprise Haurchefant. “What makes you think you are not?”

Sharply A’viloh laughed. “Oh, only their faces when they look at me. Lately all I do is cause them to worry. Have you looked at Rael recently? Ever since we fled, every time I talk to them, they seem more and more troubled and withdrawn and I cannot tell why…”

“Hmmm…”, Haurchefant tilted his head in thought. “Rael certainly seems like something is bothering them and indeed they were worried about you. But are you sure this change is your fault? Do you think I should try to talk to them instead?”

“If Rael doesn’t talk to me, I doubt they will talk to you…”, A’viloh explained with a sigh. “If I just could so something to cheer them up…”

“Why don’t you?”, Haurchefant asked. “Certainly there is something Rael likes that would make them happy?”

“Books?”, A’viloh offered but didn’t sound convinced.

“I think there’s more than enough in our library already…”

“Magic and potions? But what do I know about that?”

“Isn’t Rael already studying with the astrologians? But maybe they would like to talk about it… what else?”

“Nature? Yes! And animals!”

“Ah! That’s something we can work with!”, Haurchefant exclaimed. “Sit down! I’ll pull the fire a bit closer. I’m sure we can figure something out….”