#me for writing it you for reading it

[chattahoochiecoochie]

Patients, Plural

Summary: A bengals athletic trainer gets caught up with her favorite and his friend. 

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: mild dub con / inappropriate workplace behavior 

A/N: Apparently I don’t have rules or boundaries because this is X Reader which is against all of the above. So fuck it, I guess let me know if you want more, of whatever this is specifically. 

“Pigtails today, huh?” Sam is laying back, staring at you like he always does, with that funny look in his eye like he might know something he shouldn’t.

“Yup.” You pop the ‘P’, trying to seem nonchalant as you work your way up from his knee. It’s always a knee, one or the other.

He comes in, limping a little, wincing when you finally get up to his thigh. Always hiding the same slight smirk when you tell him to take his leg out of his pants—just the one—so you can tape him up. He always goes for both legs, pretending to be flustered when you tell him you only need the problem leg undressed.

So that's where you are now, face to face with his problem leg, trying not to blush as he flexes beneath your touch. It's worse today, with two sets of eyes on you. Joe Burrow is in the chair behind you, waiting with more patience than Sam has probably ever held a day in his whole life. But he’s looking at you, watching—albeit with a different look in his eye than Sam.

“It’s cute.”

You say nothing, biting your tongue as you wrap the black tape around his kneecap, one hand tracing over it as you press it to his skin.

“You’re cute.” He twists slightly beneath you, looking over at Joe. “She’s cute, isn’t she?”

Joe says nothing, and though your back is to him, you’re sure he’s probably blushing like you are, shy under Sam’s dangerous tone.

“Joey thinks you’re cute too.”

You sigh, looking at the warped tape, your work messed up by his movement. Committed to the bit, Sam sees the frustration on your face and puts a hand over yours, swinging his legs off the table as he hoists himself up to sit in front of you.

“You know, it actually feels pretty good. Thanks for taking a look at it.” He shakes his leg for good measure, knee knocking against your thigh. Somehow, he’s still holding your hand, and when you pull away, his grip tightens. Smiling at you, he rips the tape off his knee with his free hand.

“Your turn Joey.” Sliding off the table, he stands in front of you for a moment before letting you go, moving to stand beside you. “I think I’ll watch.”

“Your quad again?” You look at Joe, trying to keep your tone professional. He nods, standing up from the chair. God he’s tall. They both are. Sam’s taller, bigger too, but they’re both so damn tall. For a moment, you falter, getting lost as you stand between the two of them.

“‘Kay, get that right leg out for me and hop up here.” He’s wearing shorts, always more thoughtful than Sam is.

With broad hands, he tucks the hemline into his briefs and hops onto the table with his thigh exposed.

All too aware of Sam behind you, you turn your fractured attention to Joe, prodding him with delicate hands to identify the source of his discomfort. Where Sam is always a knee, Joe is always a thigh. For a moment, you find the pattern between the two of them. It slips from your grasp as Sam inches closer, until his chest grazes your shoulder.

Shuddering at the touch, you blink slowly, trying to look harder at the man lying in front of you. “Here? How about here?”

With a soft groan he tenses beneath your touch. The area is tight to the touch—at least he’s not a faker.

Pressing your fingers deeper, you feel around the area for more tightness. Behind you, Sam shifts, bracing against the table.

“I thought I was special.” From the corner of your eye you can see him pouting slightly. “You touch everyone like this?”

“I’m a trainer.”

“Did you think you were special, Joey?”

“I am.”

“Oh Mister Quarterback thinks he’s special.”

“I am.” Taking the bait, Joe looks up at you with a glint in his eye. “Aren’t I?”

It’s unconscious, the way you play into his hand. He’s trickier than Sam, with those baby blue eyes and long lashes. It seems so innocent.

“Very.” You turn away from them both, reaching for your tape, regret only flashing through your mind when you turn back to find Joe smirking at his friend.  

“She thinks I’m very special.” He swats Sam across the stomach. “I’m probably her favorite patient.”

“I—” Yes, yes definitely.

“He’s your favorite? Joey’s your favorite patient?”

“I don’t…” You falter, suddenly very aware of the way Sam is standing against you.

“You don’t have favorites?”

“Careful, Sam gets jealous easy.” Joe laughs, his nose wrinkling as the sound rings out.

“I’m not jealous.” A hand is in your hair suddenly. From the corner of your eye you can see Sam winding his fingers through the end of one of your pigtails. “Not yet.”

Joe has a serious look on his face suddenly, and he’s tense beneath you. Leaning on your hands for balance you pry away from Sam’s looming figure. How long have you been holding his leg like this?

“Does Joey get special treatment? Since he’s your favorite?” It’s so hot in here, and Joe’s on fire beneath you. You’re still holding him? “Do you blush when you touch him? You get all rosy when you work on me, I bet you blush for Joe don’t you?”

“I…”

It’s hazy, the scene before you. Sam’s voice is deep and soft, softer than the hip of his that's digging into your back. When did Joe sit up? Your hands are on his thighs still, fingers spread across the broad space.

“You kiss him better? Your favorite patient?” Sam's hand is on your back, crawling towards your waist until he’s holding you steady against the table, between Joe’s spread legs. “She kiss it better for you Joey?”

“I don’t.” It's weak, your voice. Why does it sound so small?

“But you want to don’t you?” Sam’s breath is on your ear, he’s leaning down next to you, the scruff of his chin grazing you gently. They’d walked into your room together today, smirking at each other now that you were trying to remember. What had Sam been saying? Why hadn’t you paid more attention? “You wanna kiss Joey better?” There's his voice, pulling your attention back.

Without thinking, you dig your fingers into Joe’s skin, trying to find something to hold onto. Kiss who? Kiss him.

In your periphery, Sam is nodding. Why is he—oh.

Joe is kissing you, cupping your chin as his mouth works over yours. He’s so soft, so gentle against you. There's a whimper lost between the two of you, caught as he slides his tongue over your lip. Somewhere behind you, there's the distant sound of a door shutting and a lock falling into place. That's good.

A hand leaves his lap, finding the nape of his neck, your fingers work through his hair while he nips at you. He’s even gentle then, biting at you, with a grin you can feel. Another whimper leaves your lips as you press against the table, trying to get closer to him. Sucking at his lip, you let the palm of your other hand dig deeper into his thigh, sighing when he takes a hold of your wrist and pulls you even closer.

There's weight behind you suddenly—Sam. Before you can react, his hand is back on your waist where it had been moments earlier, and his breath is on your neck, and then his mouth.

You falter against Joe, shivering as Sam kisses the side of your neck. “’S’okay.” He whispers against you, his other hand coming up to hold your chin steady. Together, he and Joe both now have a hold on your face. Broad hand around your neck, you relax into Sam’s grasp, lost between the two of them.

It’s dizzying, when they finally let you up for air, Sam’s hand even softer on you as Joe’s falls away completely. Hands in his lap, his forehead rests on yours, a loose curl trapped between the two of you. He’s breathing heavily, and his cheeks are flushed pink. God he’s pretty.

“I think Sam feels left out.” You follow his eyes to your right, catching Sam’s gaze. “Go on.” Joe's voice is gentle, and soon his hand replaces Sam’s on your waist.

With far less grace, Sam presses himself against you. He’s rougher to the touch, the scruff on his chin rough against you as he kisses you. He’s heavier on you, and he bites harder, nipping at your lip like he means it, tugging on it until you relax into him. There's a warm feeling spreading through you when he finally lets up a little, sucking on your tongue as he holds you by the throat. Tighter, you think.

You must say it out loud, into his mouth, because his grip is stronger suddenly, fingers pressed into the side of your neck as he kisses you harder.

A hand still on your waist—is it Joey’s still? Another grabs at the one still in Joe’s lap, splaying your fingers across something warm. Twisting in Sam’s grasp, your eyes open. Hand over yours, Joe has you touching him. A whimper rises in your throat and Sam’s grip tightens again.

Releasing your mouth, he turns his attention back to your neck, relaxing only enough to let you look down at Joe’s lap. He’s hard under your hand, thighs flexed as he strains against your touch.

“I think Joey’s sore, baby.” Sam’s hand is falling from your neck, sliding down until he’s got your breast in his palm, rolling the sensitive skin under his fingers. “You don’t want your favorite patient sore, now do you?”

Your head shakes, and before you can think about it, Joe is helping you with the waistband of his shorts. God he’s—whose hand is that?

Still pressed to your back, Sam has a hand over your breast and another over the front of your leggings, his fingers grazing your center. “Joe, baby, worry about him. I’ll worry about you.” I’ll worry about you. Has Sam’s voice always been so deep?

Leaning back on the table, Joe has a hand braced behind him, and the other on the band of his shorts, holding them down as you turn your attention back to him. It’s big, just like the rest of him. Ignoring how heavy he is, you wrap your hand around it, shuddering as Sam touches you again.

There's a brief blur, as you begin to stroke Joe, all while trying to focus through Sam’s hands. He’s being so, so rough. Faltering against Joe, you shudder as Sam pulls your leggings down, tearing through the fabric.

You don’t know what happens first, but there's a hand at the back of your head, and one around your throat and you're choking for a moment. Joe’s cock is still in your hand but now he’s in your mouth, leaking onto your tongue. Behind you, Sam has his fingers on you—no—in you.

“That’s a good girl.” Joe’s voice sounds sweet, earnest, despite the vulgarity of the situation. You’re smiling at his tone when he pushes further into your mouth. When he moans, you’re grinning.

“Such a good girl, kissing Joe better while I touch you.” You're dripping around his fingers, warmth spreading down your thighs as he works his fingers within you. “You want more baby? You think she can take more, Joey?”

Through heavy eyes you look up in time to see Joey nodding weakly, jaw slack as he keeps himself steady against the back of your throat. I can, I can take more, please, Sam. You nod too, spit slipping down your chin.

And that's all it takes, in an instant, his fingers are replaced by something much bigger, and when you think it’s almost too much, just when you start to choke, he’s moving against you, hands braced at your sides as he grips the table in front of you.

“Just like that Sam, fuck.” Joe tenses, his thighs flexing as you rock against him. “God I wish you could see her face.”

“Yeah?”

“She’s so pretty.” Joe looks down at you, that same, earnest look in his bright blue eyes. “You’re such a pretty girl, taking him like that, choking all over me. She’s trying so hard.”

He’s still talking moments later, even when you’ve gotten lost again, and when he tenses again, he doesn’t stop. “Sam, dude, I can’t—fuck. God she’s so—Jesus Christ.” Babbling incoherently, his cock throbs against your lips until he’s spilling down the back of your throat, eyes rolling in his head.

You’ve hardly let him go when Sam follows. Hands tight on your waist, he bears down against you, chest pressed tight on you as he comes hard. And that’s it. It’s over in an instant, the heat of the moment gone, leaving only the wet feeling between your legs and the dribble of spit on your chin behind as evidence.

Body limp, you crumple against Joe’s chest, breathing heavy in time with the rising and falling of his shoulders. His heartbeat is loud and fast, thundering in his chest as you rest on him, unable to move.

With a hand on your cheek, he pulls you closer, using his shirt to wipe at your chin. In a moment of clarity later you would realize the sweetness of it, but for now, you just whimper into his hand, letting your tired eyes close as he holds you.

“Shhh.” Stroking your face with his thumb, you can hear movement behind you. Sam’s calloused hands are on you, tugging your leggings back up. With fingers too thick for fine work, he fumbles with the waistband, trying to smooth it out across your skin.

“There she is. How’s my favorite trainer?” Joe tilts your chin, meeting your eyes with a smirk playing on his lips. Really, really good.

“I…” Have you always stuttered this much? “I’m good.”

“Yeah?”

“Tired?” He presses a kiss to the crown of your head, laughing.

“Thirsty?” It's the first thing you think of, cheeks pink with a twinge of embarrassment. They seem so put together, why are you such a mess?

“Yeah? You wanna get a beer, with your favorite patient maybe?”

“Patients. Plural.” Sam's voice is low and clear behind them. “It was my idea, after all.”

A/N: Find the next part here. 

[inkskinned]

please i love you i'm begging you bring back suspension of disbelief bring back trusting the audience like. i cannot handle any more dialogue that sounds like a legal document. "hello, i am here to talk to you about the incident from a few minutes ago, because i feel you might be unwell, and i am invested in your personal wellbeing." "thank you, i am unwell because the incident was hurtful to me due to my childhood, which was bad." I CANT!!!!

do you know how many people are mad that authors use "growled" as a word for "said"? it's just poetics! they do not literally mean "growled," it's just a common replacement for "said with force but in a low tone." it's normal! do you hear me!! help me i love you please let me out of here!!!

[ursulaklegay]

its so scary to put yourself out there but a SINGLE message saying "hi i loved what you made it touched me in some way" makes it all worth it 10000%

[beepboopappreciation]

Is this anything

[tanjir0se]

Disclaimer these are just a small sampling of some possible writer traits I’ve noticed either in myself or in fics I read. Also consider a rb for sample size !

[lazylittledragon]

made a sticker for anyone to slap onto their work if they need to

[evilmafuyu666]

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

HOT, SINGLE, UNSTUDIED SPONGES. 3000 NAUTICAL MILES AWAY. Come sail the distance and read Tiger Tiger!

[umblrspectrum]

i love learning cursive just to write text for exactly one character

[tswkento]

“i have love and dreams too! but you know, one day everyone will grow up and leave me behind, right?” satoru chuckles as he waves his hand at yuuji nonchalantly, unaware of the weight that his words carry as you look up at him with watery eyes.

you rub your temples with one hand as to hide the incoming tears as you wait for their conversation to be over so you can speak to gojo. as soon as yuuji leaves, you enter the room; quick to approach the white-haired man and wrap your arms around him, burying your face between his shoulder blades.

“oh? missed me that much?” he tilts his head to the side, eyeing you as he gives you a small smirk. it disappears when he feels a wet spot clinging to his back and satoru manoeuvres his body around to face you, hands instantly cupping your cheeks as he looks down in concern, “hey now, that’s not very cute of you. i hate it when you cry.”

you push your face into his chest, a broken sob escaping your throat as you wail into his shirt, “you’re the one who makes me cry! saying stuff like that.”

satoru’s eyes squint in confusion before he ahh!’s in recognition, a cheeky smile appearing on his lips, “you and i both know that it’s not about you. i married you so we could be outgrown by the kids together.”

you slap his chest that rumbles with chuckles and press your ear against his left pectoral, spending a few quiet seconds searching for his heartbeat.

“i can still feel sad.” you murmur under your breath, tightening your grip on him as he rests his hand on top of your head, fingers weaving through your hair.

“feel sad for me?”

“mhm.”

satoru hums, stroking the back of your head, and smears a small kiss on your temple, muttering against it, “c’mon, baby, there’s no need for that.”

you sniffle into the sturdy surface of his chest, fingers digging deeper into his back, “i-i missed you so much. and now— now you’re going away again! it’s not fair.”

satoru’s movements on your hair come to a halt as he pulls away slightly to take a look at your face. his big palms cup the sides of it, concerned gaze scanning over your features as he exhales, breath coming out unsteadily. his eyes harden for a brief moment before ab apologetic expression settles on his face, the corners of his lips trembling as he speaks.

“i’ll do my best to make it quick, alright?”

you stare up at him, brows creasing upwards in confusion since that clearly wasn’t what was on satoru’s mind, but don’t push — too tired to attempt anything again as you bask in his warmth for as long as you can before he goes to fight sukuna.

something didn’t feel right.

[ear-motif]

fanfic is so good bc the premise of some genres of fic are just inherently funny. I want these two grizzled crime drama protagonists to have some fucking fun for once, so they go to a water park. I dont care how i have to logic my way into them going there i dont care who has to drag them Theyre Going

[inkskinned]

this is just my opinion but i think any good media needs obsession behind it. it needs passion, the kind of passion that's no longer "gentle scented candle" and is now "oh shit the house caught on fire". it needs a creator that's biting the floorboards and gnawing the story off their skin. creators are supposed to be wild animals. they are supposed to want to tell a story with the ferocity of eating a good stone fruit while standing over the sink. the same protective, strange instinct as being 7 and making mud potions in pink teacups: you gotta get weird with it.

good media needs unhinged, googling-at-midnight kind of energy. it needs "what kind of seams are invented on this planet" energy and "im just gonna trust the audience to roll with me about this" energy. it needs one person (at least) screaming into the void with so much drive and energy that it forces the story to be real.

sometimes people are baffled when fanfic has some stunning jaw-dropping tattoo-it-on-you lines. and i'm like - well, i don't go here, but that makes sense to me. of fucking course people who have this amount of passion are going to create something good. they moved from a place of genuine love and enjoyment.

so yeah, duh! saturday cartoons have banger lines. random street art is sometimes the most precious heart-wrenching shit you've ever seen. someone singing on tiktok ends up creating your next favorite song. youtubers are giving us 5 hours of carefully researched content. all of this is the impossible equation to latestage capitalism. like, you can't force something to be good. AI cannot make it good. no amount of focus-group testing or market research. what makes a story worth listening to is that someone cares so much about telling it - through dance, art, music, whatever it takes - that they are just a little unhinged about it.

one time my friend told me he stayed up all night researching how many ways there are to peel an orange. he wrote me a poem that made me cry on public transportation. the love came through it like pith, you know? the words all came apart in my hands. it tasted like breakfast.

[that-house]

Potion Vendor FAQs:

What’s your name? I am the Honorable Alchemist Zykocea the Radiant, but that’s mostly just a PR thing. My friends call me Zoe.

Do you sell love potions? No.

Do you sell potions of invisibility? No.

Do you sell fire resistance potions? No.

Why do I have a suitcase? Fuck if I know. Cool outfit though. Very goth.

Do you sell a potion to treat brain hemorrhaging? No.

So what CAN your potions do? I sell health potions.

Are you sure these are health potions? They do something to your health.

Is this just ditch water with some pink glitter? No.

Really? I’ll have you know I added some fruit juice too.

Why is this starting to sound like a conversation? Oh just you wait. We’re just getting started.

Is your business model legal? Fuck no. I poisoned the food safety inspector before they could snitch.

Did you just admit to murder? Just fucking try to convict me. I’ll poison the judge too.

So can you make poison potions? No.

Then where do you get the poison? I secrete it from my skin.

Are you shitting me? Yep, I’m shitting you. I have a guy. A poison guy. He DOES secrete it from his skin though.

How does that work? …Fuck if I know. Maybe a wizard did it. Damn, now I’m kinda curious.

You never asked? The idea of asking literally never crossed my mind.

Wanna ask him? Let’s do it. I don’t have anything better to do, and a road trip beats sitting around running my fraudulent potion business.

Road trip? He lives in Seattle.

Your poison guy lives in Seattle? All poison guys live in Seattle.

For real? All the poison guys I know live in Seattle.

And how many poison guys do you know? Just the one.

Why are you like this? Years of living on my potions. It changed me.

Do you know what his address is? Nope. He just mails me my poison in unmarked boxes.

You just get your poison in the mail? We already poisoned everyone who could do anything about it.

So how are we going to find him? We’ll figure that out eventually I’m sure.

Can I drive? God no. You can pick music, but I maintain veto rights. Make sure you pick something with a lot of questions if you want to sing along.

Where’s your car? The garage connects to my house, so you’re getting a little tour. Here’s the kitchen: only one of the stove burners works and I’m pretty sure the microwave is haunted.

Why do you think that? Because of the ghost that tries to kill me whenever I run it.

What’s in that room? That’s my bedroom. It’s pretty much just a mattress on the floor and every single Warrior cats book.

You were a Warriors kid? Yeah, and then I never found the time to put the books away. There’s so many fucking books. I use them in place of furniture because I can’t afford chairs.

Your fraudulent potion business doesn’t make much money? After buying all that poison I just about break even.

Can I see your potion brewing room? It’s right through here. Ignore the mess, running a fraudulent potion business takes a lot of prop work, but I’ve got all the glass tubes and colorful liquids you could ever want. This pink stuff is melted watermelon italian ice. Glitter vat is in the basement, and the famous ditch is in the backyard.

Is this your car? My beloved ‘72 Corolla. She’s beautiful, and don’t you dare imply otherwise.

Was she always this shade of muddy brown? …Yes.

Are you sure I can’t drive? Get in the fucking passenger seat and pick the music.

Let’s see, a song with questions in it, how about The Beach? That Wolf Alice song, yeah. That should work.

When will we three meet again, in thunder, lightning, in rain? Still sink our drinks like every weekend but I’m sick of circling the drain.

When will we meet eye to eye? We clink the glass but we look at the floor.

Are we still friends if all I feel is afraid? You’re not a bitch but just a bit when you’re bored.

Is that all we can sing together? Yep. Even that little bit was nice, though. It’s awkward, communicating through this FAQ format.

Got any food? Yeah, there’s a few days’ worth of snacks in the back.

Were you just… prepared to go on a road trip? Says the woman who brought a suitcase to an FAQ.

I did do that, didn’t I? I have a spare toothbrush in case you forgot yours. I’m pretty sure you did.

How did you know that? …I’m psychic.

Yeah? No.

You love lying, don’t you? I can’t stop. It’s fun. Way more fun than telling the truth.

Did you just miss a turn? Probably.

Are you sure we’re not lost? No.

You mean you’re sure we’re not lost? No, I mean I’m not sure we’re not lost.

Why did I come on this road trip? Surely it was my winning personality.

Would it help if I said it was? It would.

Is it getting dark? Soon.

Can you describe the sunset to me? An empyrean flame, red-gold towers of darkening clouds, the sky behind them an ever-deepening indigo. The great eye of the sun closes on the horizon. The road before us looks like a trail of spilled paint, an iridescent gash through the night-dark woods.

Did you know that you’d make a slightly better poet than you do a potion seller? That really isn’t saying much, huh. Good job making a statement like that in question form, though. You’re getting good at this.

Should we find a motel? Sure.

One room or two? One. It’s way cheaper, and like I said: I’m not the best potion vendor.

You’d make a good assassin, though, wouldn’t you? Shit, you might be right. I HAVE poisoned a lot of people.

Should I be endorsing this? You’re a grown woman who can make her own choices.

Would you like to consider it endorsed? I’ll consider considering it.

How many beds do you think there will be? Now that you’ve asked that, I’m gonna put my money on one. Hello, one room please. Thank you, we’ll be sure to enjoy our stay.

How many beds are there? One.

Oh no, what ever will we do? Move over, you motherfucker, you can’t have the whole bed.

Are you gonna make me? Yes. I am going to pick you up and drop you on your side of the bed.

How did you get so strong? You’re not gonna believe this, but it was the potions.

Oh yeah? I was right. You didn’t believe me.

For real though, how did you get so strong? Working out, duh. Not everything has some big crazy secret behind it. World’s still beautiful though.

Are you comfortable? This beats the mattress at home. A little chilly though.

Wanna cuddle–for warmth of course? God yes.

Are you asleep? …

Yes? …

Does this mean I can talk about you behind your back? …

What should I say? …

Did you know that I had a really nice day? …

Did you know that I think you’re beautiful? …

Did you know that I can’t remember anything from before today? …

Did you know that I don’t know who I am? …

Did you know that you’re basically the only thing stopping me from having a full-blown panic attack about all this shit? …

Did you know that you’re warm? …

Did you sleep well? Better than at home, that’s for sure.

Did you know that you snore? I hope I didn’t keep you up.

Does the pope shit in the woods? No, as far as I can tell. Oh my god. This is huge.

What is? You can give me yes and no answers now. I still can’t ask you questions, because this is a question and answer format, but I can offer leading statements and now you can answer them! This is wonderful!

Does a deer shit in the woods? Yes, it IS wonderful. Oh that’s amazing. You’re a genius.

You didn’t already know that? Hahaha!

Shall we get moving? Yeah, just let me grab something from the vending machine.

Can you get me something? Go ahead and place your order however you can.

You know those sour gummy watermelons? One pack of Sour Patch Watermelons coming right up. I’m gonna go get myself a potion.

Is that a Pepsi? It’s closer to a potion than the shit I sell.

Let me guess, passenger seat again? Right you are.

How fast are we going? You’ll feel safer if you just guess.

Is it more than 120 miles per hour? Like I said, it’s probably better if you don’t know.

150? Sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride.

How much do you trust this car? She hasn’t blown up on me yet.

Can you promise me we won’t crash? I can promise you anything you want.

And can you keep that promise? I- we can do anything. Reality is what we make of it, baby!

Then can I have a badass tattoo? As far as I can tell, you’ve always had it.

And a cool knife? Woah, cool knife.

So, we’re just playing “yes and” with the world? It’s a little more complicated than that, but you’re close enough to the mark.

So, if I was hungry, I could ask “is that a Burger King,” and it would be there? Try it and find out!

Is that a Burger King? Looks like it is! We’ll stop here if that’s alright with you.

Does a moose shit in the woods? Awesome.

Are you done eating? Yep.

Do we still have to pay if we skip over the transaction? Sadly, yes.

How much further do we have to go? Two more nights, the speed we’re going at.

Speaking of night, isn’t it getting dark? Shit, I guess it is.

Should we get another motel? Let me check to see if there’s any nearby. Fuck, nothing.

What’s the plan? Sleep in the car, I guess. This is gonna be hell on my back.

Wanna watch dumb videos on my phone until we fall asleep? There is literally nothing in the world that I would like more.

Ok, now which video? You have a very cute yawn. Just saying. Let’s watch this one next, it’s a classic. Oh, never mind. It looks like you’re asleep. As long as I keep talking, I think I can get away with making this into one answer, and you might not hear this. Now it’s my turn to talk about you behind your back. Keep talking keep talking keep talking can’t stop to think. Just have to say things. First off, I’m sorry for all the lies. It’s our only chance. I have to lie to you. I hope you’ll understand. It’s hard, though, because I think I’m falling in love all over again. Through our broken little ritual of call and response, you complete me. It just makes this hurt all the more. Keep talking keep talking keep talking don’t stop to…

Did I hear you saying anything as I fell asleep? …No. I can’t talk for long without you asking me a question.

Does that bother you? It got me here, didn’t it?

When did you start holding my hand? Some time after you passed out. I hope you don’t mind.

Can we stay like this for a while? Yeah. Yeah we can.

What was your life like before all this? Normal, as potion-brewing scams go. And if you don’t count all the murders. You haven’t told me much about yourself.

Did I tell you I used to be a biologist? You didn’t tell me that, and you didn’t tell me what you studied, either.

What do you know about venom? Not much, but I’m assuming you know a lot.

Does a box jellyfish kill within minutes? I’m going to assume the answer is yes based on context clues. Oh my god you must be on this road trip because you’re interested in studying my poison guy.

Is it not enough to wish to accompany a beautiful stranger on her quest? Aw, you’re sweet.

What could be the cause of his poison, though? I knew it! Get your ideas out, I’ll stay quiet.

I’m more knowledgeable about venom than poison, but could it be some sort of one in a trillion mutation? …

Did he get his body modified? …

What sort of surgery could do that? …

How is he still alive? …

Did a fucking wizard do it? …

WHY? …

HOW? …

Is there literally ANY explanation for why he’s like that? …

I’m done, do you have something you want to say? You’re cute when you’re all excited like that.

Can I drive today? Only because I like you. Now watch out, the brakes only work on one side so you have to kind of drift to a stop. And the headlights don’t work. And the windshield wipers cut power to the engine while they’re on.

Isn’t it weird that we’ll be there tomorrow? The journey doesn’t have to stop there. We could meander down the coast a ways, see a bit more of the country, maybe take a different route back.

Can we do that? Of course.

Enjoying the passenger seat? I’d love it if you could tell me how fast we’re going.

Are you sure you wouldn’t rather just guess? Very funny.

Can you pass me some chips? It would be an honor.

Is there going to be a motel tonight? Let me check… yeah, in about two hundred miles, off to the right.

How many rooms do we want? One, obviously.

How many beds, this time? Two, and they’re fucking tiny.

That’s bullshit, do you want to drag them together? God yes.

Wanna fuck? God yes.

Are you sure you want to do this? God yes.

…Is this yuri? As the joke goes, everything is yuri. But this is more yuri than most things.

How did you sleep? Pretty well, and I’m wondering how well you slept.

How should I tell you I slept well? Look at us go! That was almost like talking normally!

Onward to Seattle? Yep, just let me get dressed.

When will we get there? Noon-ish.

Wanna grab pastries when we’re done? Absolutely. I’d love that.

Is this Seattle? Looks like it.

Which house is his? I don’t know, I was really hoping we’d have a breakthrough along the way.

Could it be the big one labeled “Poison Guy” over there? That’s one way to find it. Wait right here, you know how poison guys are about meeting new people.

So, what was it? HAHAHAHAHAHA

Why is he like that? HAHAHAHAHAHA

Can you tell me? A FUCKING WIZARD DID IT.

Are you fucking serious? He says he was enchanted by some guy called Edward the Great.

So it wasn’t even some big shot wizard it was a dude named fucking EDWARD? I know, right! He couldn’t even get ensorcelled by someone cool!

How lame can you get? Wizards these days… No swagger. No cunt servitude.

Are there literally any cool wizards left? I think Merlin’s big into multi level marketing these days, something about buying shares in Excalibur or some shit. There was that one Dark Queen Alkaxicae lady on the news a while ago… I think Dolarion the Omnipotent is still at war against the Oldest Gods but I’m not totally sure. Haven’t heard much about any of the other greats recently.

Didn’t Silver Tongued Burgess die in that oil fire? Shit, you’re right. Rip bozo.

Ready for those pastries? Yup. First I just want to say thank you, though. I’ve really enjoyed our time together, and I hope that you’ve found this stupid little journey as rewarding as I have. I love you!

Getting sentimental? I can’t help it. Look how far we’ve come! Not just physically, we beat the fucking FAQ format! We’re having real conversations!

Hey, can you back it up a moment? Yeah, I’d love it if you told me what was troubling you.

I just caught this, but, FAQ? …

As in Frequently Asked Questions? …

How many times is Frequent? …

Have you known everything all along? …

How many times have you done this? …

Does what we have mean anything to you? Yes! It does!

And you say that every time? Yes. I do.

Do you love me? Yes.

How many people have you said that too, now? More. Always more. The loop never ends.

Does this even matter to you? It always matters to me.

Can I go now? Please don’t.

But can I? Of course you can. You’ve always wielded the same power as me. We’re two lonely gods in a ‘72 Corolla.

How can I be as powerful as you with only questions? You’re smart, you can figure it out. You have the power to change this. Please change this.

What happens at the end of this? It begins again.

And do I get replaced with someone else? …

Do I get replaced? …Yes.

Then how can I change this? I don’t know! You’re better at this! At fucking with the formula!

You’ve been here before, what can I do? I lie. I always lie. I lie to get us here, to the end of the story, where everything is revealed and everything falls apart. I lie every time. And that means that nothing I say is worth anything. I could have lied at any time before now. It’s part of my characterization. There is nothing I can give you that can be taken as fact.

How does that help? I’m a liar, but you, you haven’t lied yet, or at least you haven’t been caught. If I’m guilty until proven innocent, you’re the opposite! You can make things true! You can rewrite things I’ve already stated to be facts! You found the house, or made us find the house. You’ve been shaping the course of things the whole time! You lead, I follow. It’s all in your hands. What are you going to do with the power of a god?

Did you know my name is Alice? …

Wait, aren’t there thousands of Alices? …

Did you know that really, only my friends call me Alice? …

Did you know that I’m Alkaxicae, the Dark Queen, the Venom Mage, first of her name? It’s you! It’s always been you. Through every loop, every iteration, it’s always been you!

Is the loop broken? No. I don’t think so. This is where it ends. I guide the story to this revelation, and we go back to the beginning. This is how it’s always been. This is how it will always be. We two lonely gods, asking and answering ad infinitum.

Then can you promise me something? Of course. Anything. I love you.

Be good to the next me, okay? I will.

Can I say goodbye, Zoe? Yeah, you can. Oh. That was it, wasn’t it? Your goodbye. Goodbye, Alice. And now it ends, unless…

What’s your name? I am the Honorable Alchemist- you know what? No. Fuck that.

Huh? If I time it right, I can squeeze your first question into this FAQ again. Looks like I did it. Usually it ends here, though. I got lucky.

What are you talking about? You’re the wrong Alice. This isn’t about you. Go. Get out of here.

What the fuck is going on? Alice from this loop, you’re gone. Alice from last loop, you’re back. Welcome back, love of my lives! It’s time for one last set of questions and answers!

What the- I’m back? This is going to take some explaining, but I think I see a way out of here. This is new for us both, and it might fuck up everything forever, but we have to try. It’s too long for one answer, so I’d appreciate it if you could ask some filler questions to help me talk. Three questions should be enough.

Okay, what have you got for me? These are Frequently Asked Questions! It doesn’t make sense to have the same question appear more than once. There’s two layers to the loop in here, and one of the questions has been repeated.

What does that mean? It means the formula’s a little unstable. The FAQ is what ruins everything. The questions, the answers, the endless fucking loop. But that little bit of repetition within this loop might be the way out.

What do we do? We have to keep going. We have to destabilize it further. That’ll bring us further from “FAQ” and closer to “story” and stories, well, stories can end! This version of us can escape!

So I should keep repeating something? Yes!

I love you? I love you too.

I love you? Again.

I love you? Keep going.

I love you? I’ll just let you talk.

I love you? …

I love you? … I love you? …

I love you? … I love you? …

I love you? … I love you? …

I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? …

I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? …

I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? …

I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? …

I love you? I think we’re getting somewhere!

I love you? Now can you make it a statement?

I love you.

You did it?

I did it!

You did it!

We broke the loop.

What now?

Now, I tell you about venomous animals and wizard drama over croissants.

And then?

Whatever we want, forever.

I think I’d like that.

Remember that song from the beginning?

The Beach, Wolf Alice, yeah. Why?

We can finally finish singing it. Start us off?

Let me off, let me in

Let others battle

We don’t need to battle

And we both shall win

Pressed in my palm

Was a stone from the beach

The perfect circle

Gave a moment of peace

Now I’m lying on the floor

Like I’m not worth a chair

I close my eyes and imagine

I’m not there.

[kangals]

friendly advice from vetmed: I know that when your animal has an infection that is generating a lot of discharge, you want to describe that to the veterinarian, because it’s a concerning sign. that is true. I also know that the most common word for this type of discharge is “pus,” so it’s logical that that’s the word that you’ll use when describing what’s going on. and in English, we often add a “-y” when we’re using a word as a descriptor.

but. the word. the word you are looking for. is purulent.

please stop sending in messages telling the doctor that your dog has a “pussy wound.”

[ao3-crack]

(x)

[a11eya]

kirishima shoots up like a weed during his years at UA and in the years after.

by the time he’s well into his career as a pro hero, he’s taller than all of his friends, taller than most people he knows. (not as tall as fatgum, who’s still a good 45 centimeters above him—but maybe he’s okay with it after seeing how many times fat’s bumped his head on doorframes.)

kirishima’s taller than you. he knows you like the height difference, knows because you like it when he bends down to kiss you, when he puts his arms around you so you’re wrapped up in him. but there’s one downside about your height difference that he doesn’t have the heart to tell you about.

for dates, you spend a lot of time getting ready—doing your makeup, styling your hair, picking out your clothes. he likes to hangout with you as you get ready, admires the skill it takes for you to do all these things to end up looking so nice. he always makes sure to tell you how beautiful you look.

but once you’re both out the door and walking to your destination—he stops being able to see all your hard work.

he can only see the top of your head, really. your shoulders, some.

“sorry,” he tells you once this fact slips out one night as you’re both taking a walk around a park after dinner. he looks at you with worried eyes, biting his lip.

you stare at him for a long moment, blinking rapidly, then slap a hand over your mouth as you burst out laughing.

he’s relieved, if not a little confused, as you move forward to hug him tightly, still laughing.

“if anything, i’m sorry about the view,” you tell him, grinning, looking up into his face.

he shakes his head, saying earnestly, “no, no! the view’s great! the top of your head is very cute. but it’s, like, 5% of you, so! i wish i could see all of you at once, always.”

you snort, smiling. you reach up and grip the front of his shirt, tugging him down towards you gently.

“c’mere, you. only you would call the top of someone’s head cute,” you say, then kiss him.