#never got over this fic
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hashtag never got over this fic! 🤣
should I make fanart!!
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Charles has always left Edwin little notes slipped between the pages of his favorite books, in his science equipment, places he knows Edwin loves. Just silly things—post its that say “hi Edwin :)”. doodles of Edwin with his nose stuck in a book. reminders to stock up on wolfsbane. but.
Then, post canon, Edwin tentatively starts dating people. And it’s ridiculous, because Edwin’s right there, all the time, but Charles..misses him a bit. And his heads a mess, and he can’t sort out what the hell he’s feeling most of the time, and whenever he tries to say any of it out loud it comes out rubbish.
So. He writes down some of the shit he can’t say right, and because he’s a coward, hides them so he doesn’t have to see Edwin’s face when he reads them.
then Edwin starts writing back.
Neat lilac blue little envelopes appear in Charles coat pockets. In his bag. Once, in his shoe? Some nights, Edwin will clear his throat and mention something from a letter, offhand, like they’re just picking up conversation, and Charles can pretend they are. That they always have talked about the basement, the belt, the nameless fear that chokes him every time Edwin walks out the door with someone else on his arm.
Sometimes he can’t. The words get stuck in his throat. Edwin’s not mad, he’s maddeningly, stubbornly kind about it, which is worse.
Some nights they trade. A secret for a secret. Charles learns about the novels Edwin used to hide under his mattress, about all the lonely years before Charles got there. About Simon.
Meanwhile, Edwin is losing his mind, because Charles has accidentally stumbled onto what was a fucking courting ritual in his time. Love letters were something engaged couples treasured for years, kept and reread over and over. (Edwin does. keep them in a special box, will take one out and trace the words, tuck it in his breast pocket for courage).
Edwin would rather have to reattach a limb again than lose Charles trust, all the dark and beautiful things he shares with Edwin only. He knows—knows Charles doesn’t mean to make him fall more in love with him.
#payneland#dbda#dead boy detectives#charles rowland#edwin payne#mini fic#charles x edwin#chedwin#fic#anyone is welcome to write this!#maybe I will eventually once I crawl victorious from the mountain of my 10+ wips#either way I’m a strong believer in the 2 or more cakes principle#would love different peoples takes on this#UGH BUT JUST IMAGINE… Edwin being scared to date & try new things#reading over and over how Charles is scared too how he’s faking being brave most of the time.#keeping the letter over his heart for courage#(I do think Edwin should date people for a while because like. he’s hot! he never got to be a teenager!#let him kiss cute boys for a bit! realize there’s nothing wrong with him! become more confident! more centered!#maybe it makes Charles a little crazy! proud and possessive and confused horny!)#they have time! :) & sometimes you need to go on your solo journey so u can then become more freakishly codependent with your#work bestie husband ride or die twin flame in the future. yk
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the taste of iron
(buddie) (2.3k words) (8x01 alternate ending) so i made a joke the other day about what would have happened if buck hadn't pushed gerrard out of the way and then i kept thinking about it and then it wasn't a joke anymore and now we're here content warning: minor character death (but like. it's gerrard) (also blood related to said death)
Gerrard is so fucking loud. The vitriol, the bigotry, that’s what makes Buck angry, but it’s the volume that sets his teeth on edge. How it isn’t driving the rest of them insane, he’ll never understand.
The more he berates, the louder he gets. The construction, just feet away, adds to the cacophony. Buck can feel his eardrums vibrating with every spit-punctuated syllable that flies from Gerrard’s mouth. He needs it to stop, he needs it to—
All at once, three things happen. Gerrard’s hand comes up, finger pointed accusingly at the center of his chest. Buck takes an instinctive step back and stumbles, just enough to throw him off balance. The sound of the saw changes.
The split second it takes for Buck to steady himself is a split second too long. The saw blade flies across the room and embeds itself in the engine, but not before slicing deep into the tissue of Gerrard’s throat. Arterial blood sprays itself across Buck’s face. For a moment, everything goes quiet. Then, it descends into chaos.
Distantly, Buck hears someone shout his name. A hand grabs his shoulder and—
Firefighter needs help, I repeat—
—spins him around.
“Buck!” It’s Eddie’s voice, but Eddie—
Are you hurt?
—Eddie’s hands are on him, on his face, on his chest. They come away red and slick with blood.
“You’re okay, Buck, look at me, you’re okay.”
Go! Go, go, go go!
Buck blinks. Swallows. He tastes—
Three minutes away, we’re so close.
Eddie’s hands find his face again. “Look at me,” he says, as if Buck could ever look away. “I need you to breathe.”
I need you to hang—I need you to hang on.
Buck takes a breath, then another. There’s blood on his face. Eddie’s hands are on his face. Eddie’s hands are covered in blood. It’s not Eddie’s blood. It’s not Eddie’s blood.
There’s a siren, but Eddie’s not in the engine. Eddie’s in front of him, still standing. Eddie—
“Just like that, there you go. With me. In… and out…” His voice is calm, steady, unlabored.
“You’re—” Buck croaks.
Eddie’s eyes are wide and brown and focused. “I’m right here, Buck, keep breathing with me.”
His hand rises of its own accord and finds Eddie’s shoulder. The fabric of his t-shirt is dry and undamaged. Eddie’s brows draw together and a moment later realization seems to dawn.
“I’m okay, Buck,” he says, painfully quiet. “I’m not hurt.”
All at once, the tension that’s been keeping him upright goes. He stumbles, and without Eddie’s steadying grip, he’d probably fall. Buck blinks a few times, and the blurry world around him and Eddie comes back into focus.
Eddie’s turned him away from the engine bay, away from what must be an ocean of blood behind him. Everything he can see looks normal, but it’s unnaturally quiet. Buck lets out a shaky breath.
“Fuck,” he whispers, and it’s like shattering glass the way it breaks the silence.
Eddie’s face relaxes a fraction. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”
Buck lets Eddie pull him toward the locker room and guide him down onto the bench. He’s gentle, like Buck might break if he presses just a little bit too hard. He pulls at Buck’s shirt until it comes untucked, then carefully peels it off of him, leaving shivering gooseflesh in his wake.
“I’ll be right back,” Eddie says, “I promise.”
Buck nods numbly.
Eddie slips into the bathroom, and a moment later Buck hears the sound of running water. He comes back a few seconds later with clean hands and a damp towel.
“Okay,” he says quietly. He kneels and brings the towel to Buck’s cheek. It’s warm; Eddie must’ve waited for the water to heat before wetting it.
With one hand, Eddie drags the towel in soft, short strokes across Buck’s skin. The other cups the back of his head, steadying him. Buck’s eyes flutter closed, and Eddie takes the opportunity to carefully wipe at the blood that flecks his eyelids.
Finally, Buck hears the towel drop wetly to the floor and opens his eyes.
“With me?” Eddie asks. His eyes bore into Buck’s.
“Yeah,” he rasps.
Eddie squeezes his knee and stands. “Good,” he says, turning away just long enough to fish a sweatshirt from his locker and hand it to Buck.
“Thanks.” Buck pulls the sweatshirt on and is immediately enveloped by the smell of Eddie’s laundry detergent. It settles a little more of the anxiety that’s dug itself deep into his stomach.
Eddie settles next to him on the bench and brushes their shoulders together. “You want to talk about it?”
Buck shakes his head. He doesn’t. But—
“Is he dead?”
In his peripherals, Buck sees Eddie frown. “Probably,” he says after a long moment.
“Oh.” Buck feels less about that than he thought he might. He’s neither sad nor relieved, though he suspects the apathy will fade with the shock. “Can we go home?”
Eddie huffs a soft breath that might’ve been a laugh on another day. “Yeah. Pretty sure the 118’s not going back into service until B shift gets here.”
“Who’s going to deal with…” Buck trails off.
“Not us,” Eddie says decisively. He stands and grabs both of their bags from the lockers. “Come on, I’ll drive.”
“You hate driving,” Buck says quietly.
The corner of Eddie’s mouth ticks up. “Which is why I owe you more rides than you’ll ever cash in on.”
Buck surprises himself with something close to a laugh. “Yeah, okay,” he says.
Eddie all but manhandles him into the passenger seat of the truck, lingering just a moment longer than strictly necessary, then jogs over to the driver’s side. He turns the key in the ignition and fiddles with the radio until it lands on a station playing something old and soft.
As far as Buck can tell, it’s not a song he’s heard before, but it’s warm and comfortable all the same. He relaxes into his seat and pulls the sleeves of Eddie’s sweatshirt over his knuckles. It’s loose on him, unlike the majority of Eddie’s clothing, and Buck wonders if he bought it with a day like this in mind.
Eddie taps his fingers on the wheel as he drives and glances over at Buck every time they hit a red light. He’s quiet, though, and Buck is too, grateful for the chance to gather himself in the near silence. By the time they pull into Eddie’s driveway, Buck’s starting to feel mostly like a person again.
He follows Eddie inside, and it’d probably feel like any other day if he wasn’t still wearing his uniform pants and boots.
“I’m just gonna…” Buck says, nodding toward Eddie’s bedroom as he toes out of his shoes.
Eddie steps around him and squeezes his elbow. “I’ll be in the kitchen,” he says, but it feels a little more like, ‘take all the time you need, I’ll still be here’.
Buck’s had a drawer at Eddie’s almost as long as he’s known him. He bypasses that drawer and goes straight for the one that houses Eddie’s most comfortable and threadbare pajamas. He changes into a pair of soft cutoffs, and with his uniform sheds the last of the tension in his shoulders.
He wanders into the kitchen and finds Eddie whisking eggs in a mixing bowl. Wordlessly, Buck sets the table and pours two glasses of orange juice. When he’s done, he sits, knowing exactly what Eddie will say if he offers to help with the food.
A few minutes later, Eddie carries two plates to the table. Breakfast is simple, just scrambled eggs and toast, but Eddie’s gotten good at this; the eggs are beautifully fluffy and the toast is a perfect golden brown.
“Hang on a sec,” Eddie says.
He goes over to the fridge and returns with a new, unopened jar of blueberry preserves, the kind you can only get at the farmer’s market. Buck swallows thickly, suddenly aware of just how many words are caught in his throat.
“Thanks,” he says, the only one of them he thinks will come out painlessly.
Eddie ghosts his hand along Buck’s shoulder then sits in the chair closest to his.
“Eat,” he says softly, and it’s only then that Buck realizes he hasn’t even picked up his fork.
Buck read somewhere, once, that the physical act of chewing was enough to meaningfully lower cortisol levels. He’s not actually sure if it’s true, but sitting here with Eddie, he thinks it might be. It makes sense – you don’t stop to eat until the danger has passed. You eat when you feel safe. Buck feels safe. He spreads blueberry preserves on his toast and eats.
When he’s done, Eddie grabs both of their plates and drops them in the sink. He returns to his chair.
“Do you want to talk or try to get some rest?” he asks after a long moment.
Rest sounds really good, actually, but—“I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep,” Buck admits.
“We can watch a movie,” Eddie says, offering him an out.
Buck smiles half-heartedly. “Not sure I can do that, either,” he says.
“Then tell me,” Eddie says, voice full of all the concern he hasn’t expressed yet.
“I’m not sure what to say,” Buck says, finding it to be true as soon as it leaves his mouth.
Eddie looks conflicted for a second, but then his expression steels. “When I got shot. That’s what it reminded you of, right?”
There’s a certain relief in not having to voice it himself. Buck nods.
“Okay,” Eddie says gently.
“For—for a second I wasn’t in the station anymore. It was—I know you don’t really remember anything about that day.” Buck shrugs helplessly.
“I do,” Eddie offers. “Not most of it, I mean, but…” Eddie lifts his hand to Buck’s face and brushes a thumb along the curve of his cheek.
Something Buck doesn’t have a name for clenches in his stomach.
“I have this picture of you in my head; I was never quite sure whether or not I dreamed it.”
Buck’s breath catches in his chest.
“Guess not,” Eddie says ruefully, shaking his head.
“What, um—what do you—” Buck presses his lips together as the rest of the question refuses to form in his mouth.
Eddie sighs. “We never really talked about this, did we?”
Buck frowns. “We did,” he says.
Eddie shakes his head. “We talked about me, but you were there, too.”
“I didn’t get shot, Eddie.”
“And I didn’t get struck by lightning.”
Buck looks down at his hands and realizes they’re shaking.
“I know what it feels like to watch you die, Buck,” Eddie says seriously. “And you know how it feels to be covered in my blood.”
“I know how it tastes,” Buck corrects quietly. He glances up in time to see the stricken expression on Eddie’s face.
“What?” he breathes.
“It was the only thing I could taste for weeks.” Eddie’s hands find his. “And then today, I tasted it again.”
“Buck,” Eddie says roughly. Buck’s always liked the way his name sounds on Eddie’s lips. He says it like it means something.
All at once, Buck realizes that he’s been waiting years for permission to talk about this, permission Eddie’s finally given him, and it all comes pouring out.
“I thought you were gonna die, Eds. I—I thought I was going to have the taste of your blood in my mouth for the rest of my life. And I—god, I blamed myself for—for not seeing it coming, or getting to you faster.”
Eddie’s hands tighten around his. “You got there fast enough. You saved me,” he says.
Buck laughs softly. “I know. In my head I know that, but—but it never feels like it.”
“Still?” Eddie asks.
In lieu of a response, Buck takes one of Eddie’s hands in his own and presses his fingers to the pulse point in his wrist. His heart beats strong and steady. Buck closes his eyes.
“I’m sorry,” Eddie says.
He blinks them back open. His brow furrows. “For what?”
Eddie’s lips twist painfully. “We should have talked about this a long time ago. I should’ve asked.”
Buck shakes his head. “That’s not on you.”
“I think it might be,” Eddie says.
“You got shot,” Buck says. “You’re allowed to avoid the subject.”
Eddie huffs a soft breath. “I think…” he trails off.
Buck waits, counting every beat of Eddie’s pulse against his fingertips.
“I think I was afraid that if we talked about it, I’d remember.”
“And you didn’t want to,” Buck says. “I get that.”
“It’s all so blurry,” Eddie says, “but I remember the way it hurt. I remember being afraid. But I also—there was a moment, somewhere in all that, when I wasn’t afraid anymore.”
Buck bites his lip and nods.
“And…” Eddie’s jaw tightens for a moment. “And when I think about that, I—that’s when I see you.”
Buck takes a sharp, aching breath.
Eddie watches him for a long moment until something minute shifts in his expression. “Oh,” he says softly.
“What?” Buck asks.
Eddie shakes his head. “I just—I remembered something else.”
“Do you want to…”
“I think I’m gonna need a minute with this one,” Eddie says. “But I’ll tell you. I promise.”
“You don’t have to,” Buck says.
The corner of Eddie’s mouth ticks up into a small smile. “I know.”
“Okay,” Buck says softly. He holds Eddie’s gaze for several seconds, but nothing in it scares him. It’s Eddie, warm, perceptive and sure. “I—I think I might be able to sleep.”
“Good,” Eddie says. He stands, pulling Buck up with him. “Come on.”
And just as he has every other time Eddie’s asked him to, Buck follows.
#buddie fic#buddiefic#buddie#911#911 spoilers#fic#911fic#911 fic#this is such a bad time to post but oh well lmao#i am nothing if not impatient#anyway if you can't tell i never got over season 4 <3#abbie writes
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saw this dress and purse and i KNEW i had to draw this, it's so her!!
#ml#marinette dupain-cheng#miraculous ladybug#omg i post art not clickbait??#Hmm dont think i added enough sparkles.....#i initially wanted it to look like a page from her sketchbook but i got render-happy#I was gonna add tikki but she didnt fit the color palette -_-#indigarts#marinette#forcing myself to draw/write because if i dont i will literally never finish anything#not exaggerating i have over 40 art & fic wips combined#and like... 4 aus in the works?#my hands cant keep up with my brain!!!#Yall bored during hiatus... not me. stay safe tho!#and not to mention that ive been so sick i cant hold a pen most of the time#ok i'll shut up now#edit was no one gonna tell me i put the hyphen in her name wrong.
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✰ dating na jaemin.
you become his responsibility.
jaemin loves to take care of those he adores, so getting into a relationship with him means that he would do anything for you, literally. you could randomly throw in how you ran out of a perfume you liked and wake up the next morning to a package of the exact same brand, a small note from jaemin attached to it saying he “coincidentally saw it”. he is the type to pull out your chair for you before you could even get near it, and wouldn’t think twice about sacrificing his seat for you if there were none left. he would never let you open the door yourself, instead rushing ahead and pulling it open so you can get in first. the type to tug you closer to prevent anyone from bumping into you. jaemin loves to shower you with acts of service to show you how much he appreciates you.
long phone calls are a MUST.
whenever he has the opportunity to, jaemin doesn’t think twice before dialing your number and calling you. his schedule could be booked and busy, yet he would find a gap somewhere in between it where he could quickly call you, just to tell you he misses you. he anticipates these phone calls, perhaps they’re the highlight of his day. he can’t go a day without at least one call, even if it’s short. they could be the most useless calls, the ones where you just ramble about how you saw some pretty scenery on your way back home, and jaemin would listen to you with a small smile present on his face. the calls could last for hours as he refuses to hang up yet, begging you to stay on the line just for a few more minutes. jaemin enjoys hearing your voice, which is why he always makes sure to call you before he goes to sleep, putting your voice on speaker while he slowly dozes off.
endearingly jealous jaemin.
you would barely be able to tell that jaemin is feeling jealous, it’s almost too unnoticeable. jaemin tries to not get jealous because he doesn’t want to come off as a typical ‘possessive’ and ‘insecure’ boyfriend. still, you’re able to pick up on the force in his smile and his short tense responses. jaemin would reassure you that he is alright, because admitting to being jealous is much more embarrassing to him. it would take a lot of pestering to get him to admit to being jealous, especially if the jealousy formed over something really small such as your friends interacting with you. he’d have a sheepish smile on his face as he tells you that perhaps he felt a bit jealous seeing you get complimented by your other friends, sulking about how he should be the only one who can tell you you’re beautiful. jaemin tends to get jealous over harmless things, but it only reassures you how much he truly likes you (preferably all to himself)
how he asked you out.
it would take jaemin quite a while to admit to himself that he likes you. it’s simply because jaemin is picky with his ideal types and wants to take his time to discover whether the person he plans on pursuing truly fits him like he wants them to. once jaemin assures himself that you’re the one, he’d dwell on how to ask you out. a part of him would want to make it something big, a moment neither of you will forget, and another side of him wants to be casual about it, instead keeping it simple yet sweet. jaemin would opt to go with the fancier route and ask you out to dinner with him. he’d pay for all your meals, compliment you the whole night, and hold your hand while the two of you are walking outside. he’d tug you to the side where it’s just the two of you before admitting his feelings to you in a heartfelt confession. he’d tell you that there is no rush, and how you don’t need to accept it if you don’t reciprocate his feelings (even if that would crush his heart). no worries though, because you’re more than willing to reciprocate those feelings of his and officially becomes his significant other.
kisses.
kissing jaemin would be the epitome of romance. the tingling sensation that travels through your body as he’d place his hand on your jaw, tilting your head to look him right in the eye makes you grow weak. he’d lean in slowly, searching your face for any discomfort and hoping to see the green lights in your eyes. “is this okay?” he’d whisper under his breath, yet you can hear him perfectly. jaemin would wait for you to respond back with words, waiting for consent. and as you give it to him, he slowly craves in and place his lips on yours. the kiss is soft and slow, and you can feel the love emitting into the air. it almost feels like fireworks are exploding in the air as your lips move in synch. kissing jaemin feels like time slows down and it’s just the two of you. you’re not sure how long your lips have been attached for, and you don’t really care either.
#long overdue i missed writing these#NEVER forget my roots (fic writer over smau writer)#i missed writing for jaemin i got carried away with this#jaemin imagines#nct imagines#nct dream imagines#jaemin fluff#nct fluff#nct dream fluff#jaemin x reader#nct x reader#nct dream x reader#jaemin scenarios#nct scenarios#nct dream scenarios#jaemin headcanons#nct headcanons#nct dream headcanons#jaemin reactions#nct reactions#nct dream reactions#jaemin x you#nct x you#nct dream x you#jaemin fanfic#na jaemin imagines
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arthur (prince of camelot) still has to study under a tutor bc yknow uther wants him to be very intelligent before becoming king or something bc its super important idk idc anyways merlin is doing chores in his chambers while arthur is squinting at a book and merlin eventually caves and asks him what he’s reading and arthur gruffly explains that its a collection of stories from greece that make absolutely no sense so merlin asks him to read them outloud to him. arthur of course teases him and calls him an idiot and asks how he could possibly help but does as he’s asked and reads the stories to merlin as he does his chores. merlin (being crushed under the weight of destiny and tormented by the prophecies that kilgharrah spews) understands the stories almost immediately and gets all excited and starts rambling about them with arthur. arthur is glad to have someone who understands so he can give something that reflects a hint of understanding to his tutor who accepts it and moves onto the next unit of education.
the thing is, arthur finds more stories in camelot’s library and brings them up to his room to read them aloud to merlin under the guise of completing his studies but really he just wants to watch as merlin’s eyes gleam when he understands whats happening and listen to him ramble on and on about them bc he’s gay. the stories stick with merlin though and he realizes that they’re cautionary tales, that the heroes who were told too much of their future doomed themself to fulfill them - that them fighting the prophecies led to their completion. merlin takes it to heart and gives a big “fuck you” to kilgharrah before forging his own fate and helping morgana with her magic and handing out an olive branch to mordred and now everyone can live happily and peacefully in an albion teeming with magic.
#merlin and arthur are of course at each others side in the end#merlin is curled up with arthur in their bed and says a silent thank you to his king for saving him#arthur returns the sentiment wholeheartedly#bbc merlin#merlin emrys#arthur pendragon#merthur#fic idea#fanfic#fanfiction#headcanon#hc#head canon#merthur prompt#i have my own hc of fate vs destiny in bbc merlin and i like to incorporate that into everything i write#but then i realize that not everyone thinks that way lmao#i like to think that destiny is unavoidable. merlin and arthur are destined to form albion and lead it together#i think fate is like a fragile version of destiny#i think most people are tied to fate and will follow what they are fated to do unless those who arent tied down by fate change course#like i hc that seers are able to see the potential future of what is to happen should they not interfere#and the goddess leaves it up to them to choose. so like seers arent tied down by fate and can change the course of history#since merlin is literally magic incarnate i also think he isnt tied down by fate and can act to change things#kilgharrah told merlin the prophecy that would result in the dragon getting free and ending the pendragon line#and since merlin never got close w like any druids or magic users. no one told him the inner workings of fate vs destiny#so he listened to the dragons warnings dooming him to fulfill the prophecy that brought about one of the worst possible futures#bc the dragon was salty about his whole species being eradicated by uther and vowed to destroy the pendragon line#omg im ranting okay post over thank you and good night
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I LOVE Teen Stan and Ford, it’s sad they don’t get drawn enough, so thank you so much!
Does Ford ever help Stan when he gets overstimulated? Or maybe when he has a rage response and suddenly starts crying and calls himself stupid?
Here's the other post with Ford
#I am once again asking someone to write me a fic about these two posts. pretty please 🥺#this took me way too long to think off#the dialogue was escaping me#if you can guess what the book he's reading is... you won't win anything I just think it would be cool#maybe Stan got upset about his grades. or a boxing match ir something#sometimes I too bite myself. not deep enough to draw blood but enough to bruise. it's gotten better over the tears but still#now and then...#anywayszzzzzzzz#ask#anonymous#gravity falls#stan pines#stanley pines#stanford pines#ford pines#teen stan#teen ford#art#fanart#traditional art#watercolor#the last few drawings came out so nicely#both of them are emotionally constipated in their teen years (and onwards honestly) so instead of addressing the crying they ignore it#they pretend it never happened#btw here you can see my (successful) attempt at putting Ford out of the picture so I don't have to draw more#comic#long post#look at their socks#I forgot the 's' in 'books' I'm so stupid god
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i have this fic series i'm still working on where mihawk sort of becomes rayleigh's kid and spends ages 11-17ish on the oro jackson.
shanks and buggy imprint on him (bugs considers him a sort of older brother figure/sparring inspiration and shanks has a crush that eventually turns into full-blown love) and this is how i imagine they're like on the day mihawk sets off on his own haha.
#fic recs#dracule mihawk#akataka#mishanks#buggy#buggy the clown#shanks#akagami no shanks#red haired shanks#one piece#one piece fanart#op fanart#clearly my workaround to 'i should be working on my deadlines instead of doodling mishanks' is to finger-draw on my phone instead#on the plus side i'll never be tempted to go and fully render what was supposed to be a sketch#on the minus side i'm wondering if drawing with my finger takes up the same amount of time anyways.........#smh#anyways in this au i have this part planned where after shankd and buggy get into a fight over the chop chop#shanks comes crying to mihawk all devastated and annoyed and mihawk who is 16 and absolutely doesnt want to deal with a crying 12 year old#decides to fix things himself by showing buggy the pros of his devil fruit via forceful and incredibly harrowing sparring session LOL.#makes him see right away how much of a boon it is to never be able to get cut by a blade. it turns into an actually fun sesh#'cuz mihawk starts enjoying the challenge and the creativity and control and buggy starts wielding his knives in flying hands.#ends with mihawk berating him on how he treats his brother and how mihawk never wants to have to deal with shanks like that again#and also lowkey encouraging buggy by saying he's a resourceful kid and he's got people if he cant do things himself.#at this point in time shanks kind of wants mihawk to be his knight in shining armour so he's happy to hear what mihawk did#but mihawk is Fully Over bunking with two 12 year olds. ray please can he just set out on his own now. he's done it before. come on.#he is not a babysitter!!!!!!#tho these fics will focus mostly on hawk & ray jsyk#i digress
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Wally talks to his dad about his love life
Home I feel is a really good listener (maybe a little too good since he eavesdrops a lot on accident- very observant of his surroundings)
cw minor obsessive/possessive behavior on first photo under cut
I remember I freaked out years ago when I found out some bugs, specially some spiders, have lil beaned peets
#I will never get over that fact it’s the cutest thing ever#I think that’s what cured me from my fear of spiders LMAOOO#That and djmm#B e a n s#Welcome home#welcome home howdy#welcome home wally#welcome home home#howdy pillar#wally darling#wallypillar#howdydarling#funfact I was gunna draw some ship stuff for mob au with these two#Bbbbbut u h h h h h h#Every single time I ask anything relationship wise with mob howdy and Wally it’s like-#R e a l l y a b u s i v e JDHFHHDJDJDJ#I had a fic where I asked if howdy was married and he depressively said yeah#And I was like “why u so sad dawg isn’t married life supposed to be good specially with someone so powerful”#And he’s like “yeah but I’m just seen as another object- if anything the torture got worse afterwards-“#And I was like o h#And I ran away with him LMAOO#But then later we got caught by Wally and Wally killed me rip JDHDHDDH#In “canon” mob Wally marrying someone who is a part of the “mob family” he would treat mostly gently#However when it comes to howdy he would still use him as a punching bag#Howdy rarely gets any sleep- and to then be bound by the boss? Who never sleeps and is incapable of doing so? W h a c k#Another funfact#Since Wally can’t sleep he would stare at his (current/possible) partner while they sleep#Very awkward
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Yeah short skirts and crop tops are sexy— but there’s just something about a man that finds you so attractive wearing clothes that shouldn’t be considered typically sexual. Like baggy sweats or his old, worn shirt.
Those plain, boring outfits that aren’t planned and are just thrown together for comfort and practicality that have his dick throbbing for you as he imagines bending you over the nearest surface.
#there’s always fics where reader is wearing such sexy clothes and that’s what gets the guy going#but somehow I feel like seeing you dressed down would have the same effect#or like he sees you wearing his top or hoodie and he’s instantly feeling possessive (even if you aren’t dating!!!)#like ‘oh I just got cold so I borrowed your hoodie sorry’ except now he’s smirking at everyone else in the room because you chose HIS shit#or like imagine you’ve just become a mum and you’re feeling the unsexiest you’ve ever felt after childbirth#you’re tired you haven’t done makeup in weeks and you can’t even imagine doing any kind of self-care#wearing one of your man’s old shirts that you’re certain has baby sick or milk on it#and somehow your man thinks you’ve never looked prettier as he’s got his hands all over you while you try to cook breakfast or do laundry#OR OR OR !!!!!!!!!!#he sees you in his colours or wearing his logo or something on a plain tee and he’s ready to lose his mind
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i hope taco permadies in the finale. i hope she’s a victim of circumstance. i hope she dies convincing herself its for the better. that it’s her final punishment. that there was no other ending than this. that if her attempts to apologize for all the hurt she’s done didn’t work, she’s fully irredeemable. that there is no other fate best-suited for her other than death, and that in life there is no further point for her. i hope she dies believing she deserves it.
i hope she never gets the chance to tell microphone she loves her. i hope microphone is eternally left in the dark. i hope she never discovers the true extent of tacos remorse. her guilt. i hope she is left in silence to only ponder about how taco felt, hoping and praying that she meant anything to her. even a tiny bit. clinging onto any fraction of hope that taco could possibly feel the same way she does.
i hope microphone never finds out she’s dead. i hope she is led to believe that taco moved on from her. that she never meant anything to her. that she wasn’t enough again.
#tacomic#obligatory tag#this literally looks like a genuine taco hatepost im laughing#at least the first part#this isnt taco neg i mean this all affectionately#fuckkkkk#idk what came over me sorry to everyone that had to read this#i dont actually think shes going to die but i have a running gag of saying she’ll die. so#this is soooo emo sorry i think if she died it’d ruin her entire arc thing she has going on but it WOULD be funny if it did happen#and i got bored#if i was evil enough i’d make a fic of this#pickle is being left out of this sorry im too tacomic brained#i hope she never reconciles with pickle either in this context#rambles
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Jamie and Roy spending ridiculous amounts of time together and Phoebe knowing about it definitely means that Jamie’s around Phoebe a lot more in the off-season when she’s off school and Roy’s off work but still being Jamie’s personal trainer for free (and she definitely likes bossing Jamie around just as much as Roy does and finds the ridiculous shit Roy makes him do hilarious)
And you know that thing where kids love to randomly go watch this, I can do a somersault or want to see me do a cartwheel? and then you just have to awkwardly stand there and be like wow whether they actually can do them or not (and sometimes several times in a row have to try to think of something new to say the fifth time they do the exact same thing and then look to you for a reaction)
I’m just saying at some point they’re in some park and Phoebe definitely pulls a look how good I’m getting at cart wheels, Uncle Roy! around Jamie at some point and while Roy just stands there like 🧍♂️ and gives compliments that gradually get more and more deadpan and debates turning it into saying how much more impressive that is than anything Jamie’s done all morning but he doesn’t because he’s 90% sure that would just lead to Jamie getting all indignant and competitive and proving he can cartwheel too as if Roy isn’t already annoyingly aware of that from when he was dying trying to keep up with Jamie in Amsterdam while he was cartwheeling and practically skipping
But obviously Roy not saying anything doesn’t matter anyway and Jamie turns it into being like watch this to Phoebe and cartwheeling too and turning to Roy after like well go on, tell me how good I am at that too
Roy deadpans somehow it’s far less impressive watching a grown man cartwheel for attention. It’s just sad, really
But Jamie isn’t offended at all and just shoots Roy an obnoxious smirk and insists you’re just saying that because you know you couldn’t do one. Even trying would probably end with you needing a hip replacement or something
But before Roy can even properly argue or say something bitchy back, Jamie’s turning back to Phoebe with a how about this then? But even though it’s her he asks, it’s Roy he looks to the moment he finishes running a few steps and doing a one-handed cartwheel
And Jamie’s like well now are you impressed??? And god, Roy resents that he is and he could make a dig about how useless of a skill it was as an adult and how that wouldn’t accomplish anything on the pitch and he’d just look like one of the kids that picks flowers on the pitch instead of playing or even paying attention to where the ball is, but instead he rolls his eyes and says yeah okay
And Jamie beams but he doesn’t have time to properly gloat and give Roy shit because Phoebe’s already bossing him around telling him that he has to teach her how to do that too
#I’ve been debating putting this in one of my fics for months and still may#Meanwhile if Keeley saw Jamie cartwheel for attention and praise she’d be like I never know what to do when a grown man does a cartwheel in#front of me…#Keeley would be underwhelmed watching Jamie do a cartwheel but also 100% would attempt one and join in if Phoebe asked her to#Phoebe definitely got into football because of Roy#But I could also see her getting into gymnastics too because of Jamie indulging her and being just as eager to do the same little kid tricks#And then she sees someone else on the team do a flip showing off and them all arguing over whether they could do a flip too if they tried#And attempting with various results and she’s like well I want to be able to do a flip too and talks her mom#into signing her up for gymnastics and then talks Jamie’s ear off about her gymnastics class and the little kid tea from it because he’s#sure to match her energy and buy into it like he always does#Roy Kent#Jamie Tartt#Phoebe O’Sullivan#Ted Lasso#RoyJamie#Mine#I don’t have the energy or brainpower to reread this as usual so enjoy the typos and whatever autocorrect changes things too 😂
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bug trolls… i am interested in kankri vantas. if that isn’t too much trouble. your buggy guys are so silly and interesting and i am a fan
here is kankri and his baby brother…. they don’t get along!! i wish they did though id love to see these two go on an adventure together where they look out each other. since kankri is a beforus troll and a vegan, his shell is pretty thin because he’s not getting enough iron. on the other hand, karkat’s shell is heavier then it should be due to stress. thanks for the RQ!! im soooo glad ppl like my sillies :D
#kankris picking up karkat because karkat said fuck you im going to come over there and cram my scythe down your ignorance shaft#kankri said no you arnt. you’re not going to do that. im not letting you do that.#karkat vantas#kankri vantas#homestuck#trolls#buggy trolls#want to see these 2 depending on each other to survive in alternia. i think it would be very hard for them to do#but i think they could grow and develop in interesting ways if they got to be brothers who fight#enrichment in the isopod tank#redbloods#these two are natural drama that’s engaging story!! ive never really read a fic i liked that rlly got into their companionship as brothers#like there’s quite a few abt dirk and dave as brothers#most fics that have both of them focus more on their bonds with the sufferer#if anyone has a recommendation I’d love to hear it#give them crabdad no sufferer make them struggle in this cruel world. highly protective kankri grumpy wrathful karkat#they can’t stand each other but also rely on each other. redblood moment#given that isopods are comparatively social and good natured to many of the other troll buggy species I’ve picked out#that’s what I’m SAYIN#^silly#ok bye
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Ok Wild Angsters, you wanted a continuation, so here you go :)
Four already knew what he would be walking into. His phone had been blowing up for hours. He’d come in to work early. Whether he was assigned to take care of Wild or not was another matter - Vaati loved to try and take all the admissions, convinced he was the best nurse on the unit. If Four could just keep Vaati out of Wild’s room, he’d consider it a success.
When the charge nurse told him he would be admitting the trauma alert, he knew who he was getting.
Pre-admission jitters always made Four anxious, but this was an entirely other level of fear. He almost wanted to request a different assignment, but it was too late now. What if he couldn’t take caer of him because he was his friend? What if that impair his decision making? What if he just wasn’t skilled enough to handle it? He knew Ezlo wouldn’t give him an assignment he couldn’t handle, wouldn’t be there to support him, but still…
Four went over the supplies in his room once more. Safety checks were fine—they had suction, they had a bag valve mask, the code card was nearby—and he had all the supplies he needed. It was just a waiting game.
Four paced the unit at least three times before he looked at the OR status board again. Wild was still in surgery. He poked in his chart, glancing at injuries, looking at vital signs and anesthesia notes. The last update he saw was that Wild had gotten another unit of blood. Estimated blood loss so far was around 2200mL.
2200mL. That… wasn’t too terrible, Four supposed. He’d… seen worse.
Please don’t get worse.
Four knew for certain that Wild had been mass transfused in the ED. Warriors, his primary nurse when he was there, had told him as much. Between that and the multiple blood products he’d gotten in surgery, as well all the crystalloids he was likely getting as well…
Four took a breath. Then another. He grabbed his phone, texting Warriors. You doing ok?
Wars didn’t reply.
Four wasn’t entirely sure where everyone was at this point. Hyrule had stayed at the hospital, lingering in the emergency department and then the operating room waiting area, but Four hadn’t seen him since he’d clocked in. Warriors and Legend should be getting off shift now, but whether they were going to stay up was another matter. Time was obviously in the OR (Wild’s wreck had been around 10pm, he’d arrived in the ED around 10:45, and he’d been stabilized for surgery and gone to the OR by around midnight - it was 7am now… he wasn’t sure how long this was going to take, but it couldn’t be much longer). Malon should be getting on shift now as well - she had come in last night when everything had gone down, alongside Twilight. Wind had been cautiously left out of the loop until Wild had gone to surgery, simply because nobody had really had much information at the time, so no one wanted to worry the kid until they could figure things out. Everyone had their hands full as it was. But by now, Four knew Wind was either in the OR waiting room, harassing every respiratory therapist he knew, or in the hospital library pacing anxiously. As for Sky, the last Four heard he was bouncing between different people, checking in on everyone.
He clicked through more anesthesia notes, looked at flow sheets for blood products. There wasn’t much to go on, as charting was sparse. What Four did know was that Wild had been obtunded, got mass transfused, had gotten a chest tube, had been intubated, blood was evident in his abdomen, and he had an open femur fracture. He’s been taken to Time’s OR for a ex-lap. Head CT had shown a bleed, and they were monitoring it. That was all the information Legend had told the group when he’d had a moment to spare.
Four’s vocera activated, telling him he had a call from the charge nurse. When he answered, he was told Malon had called and said they’d be finishing up in about thirty minutes and were likely to come up open.
Why was he coming up with his abdomen open? When had they gone from exploratory laparotomy to a full on open abdomen?
Ten minutes later, Malon called back to give report. When Four answered, the first thing he asked was, “How’s he doing? Is he okay? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Malon said, even though she sounded exhausted. “And he’s… hanging in there. I’ve seen worse, I’ll say that. I’ll give you the full rundown, okay?”
Four listened as Malon gave report, feeling his heart settled into his stomach, which was tying itself in knots. Multiple spots of bleeding, possible compartment syndrome in his abdomen, a likely kidney injury due to compression from the bleeding on some major vessels, a small hematoma in his brain… they’d had to call neurosurgery to do an emergency craniotomy out of overt concern of swelling, given that Wild had apparently had previous head trauma, based on what they saw in the OR.
Open abdomen, craniotomy, ICP monitoring, bleeding, one chest tube… this was a disaster. Four swallowed as he wrote, feeling his hand shake a little as his heart raced. He was not qualified enough to be admitting this. He was not.
But the turnaround on his unit was pretty insane, and he was the most experienced nurse on the unit today. At least Ezlo was charge; he knew he’d be well supported.
This was a nightmare. But Four had dealt with nightmares, and he would deal with this. He wasn’t going to screw up taking care of any patient, but especially his friend.
Sighing, he hung up the phone after thanking Malon, pushing worries for her and Time aside, trying to focus on what he would need, who he should grab to help him, and how he should prep his room.
It was time to get to work.
When everyone arrived from the OR, Four made brief eye contact with Time. He couldn’t read much from the man, who was stone faced, aside from the exhaustion evident in the dark circles under his eyes. Four got to work quickly, assessing Wild from head to toe as he looked to see what IV medications he was on. A coworker wrote the note while Ezlo helped detangle his lines (the OR always brought up a mess, after all). Time gave an overview of the surgery, and Four listened along as he checked pupils, as he zeroed the arterial line and the ICP monitor, as he listened to lung and heart sounds, as he checked the chest tube and stripped it with his fingers to ensure patency, as he checked peripheral pulses, as he looked at the abdominal dressing to get a baseline in case there was swelling from bleeding later. One of the techs connected the chest tube to wall suction, and Four looked over his drips. Only having levophed at 2 wasn’t terrible, and he was getting a unit of red blood cells, which was in a transfusion set that was y’d to some lactated ringers fluid. He was on propofol for sedation. Another nurse grabbed a blood gas from his arterial line and sent off labs. His foley he had was temp sensing, and Four quickly ascertained that Wild was cold, so he set up the blanket warmer and covered his friend up.
His friend. His friend.
Four shook his head. He had to focus.
As Time left the room, he put a hand on Four’s shoulder, making him freeze. The surgeon didn’t speak, just locking eyes with him. Four wasn’t entirely sure if it was for his own benefit or not. But he had no more time to let his emotions make any decisions for him. He nodded to the doctor, who nodded in return, and then the two went their separate ways.
This was going to be a long day.
#Apologies if this sounds too similar to Level One because I haven’t read that fic in over a year and never finished it#So I don’t remember what happened to Wild in it aside from he was also in an MVC and was in rough shape LOL#Writing#lu in healthcare#lu wild#lu four#lu time#lu malon#dang how long is this storyline gonna be lol#I get too caught up in the medical side of it HA#He’ll be fiiiiine#I got all excited talking about admission from the OR stuff lol#It’s so chaotic y’all#There are like eight thousand people in the room and the lines are a hot mess and I HATE when teh lines are a hot mess#But this was also weird because I admit heart patients… and Wild—being a trauma patient—has… so few drips?? Compared to heart patients???#Like… trauma patients aren’t usually on pressors because what they need is blood#Whereas cardiac surgery patients might need blood… or they’re just vasoplegic… or their heart sucks…#Lots of different options lol#Anyway I’m rambling in the tags whoops#Skye time travels through the queue
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I think there r not enough fics about pat finding out that pran's been in love with him for soo long. I mean I wanna read him thinking that Pran is joking and have his grin fall out when he realizes the sincerity in his words. I mean I kinda wanna see it happen in bet era (although if it did happen during bet era I definitely don't think Pat would have been able to continue the bet any longer). I want Pat to wait until the full meaning of it set properly and I want realize the pain Pran went through. I want him to pamper Pran like never before. I mean I know he's already gone man for Pran but I want to see him completely loose it with this information.
#i need these fics now#i mean it feels like there can be so many versions of it#i want to see him happy sad devastated freak out by that intensity#i think Pran deserves it#it can also be like ink casually mentioning that pran is in love with him in the high school#and pat thinking she just got wrong idea about it#and him coming home and mentioning this to pran casually#u know to laugh over it#and Pran going “actually it IS true”#and pat laughing out loud#and Turing over only to see how serious pran is#or them cleaning out something and pat finding something which shows prans unrequited love#i know just friends gives away that pran had a crush on pat in high school#but i want to see him understand the intensity of it#and also that it never went away#anyway#bad buddy#bbs#patpran#bad buddy series#bad buddy the series
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After the OVERWHELMING support I got on my last WIP (Eddie gets transported back in time and meets Buck 1.0) I’ve decided to make a tag list for it. So interact with this post (like, comment, rb) if you’d like to be tagged when I post it!
#Eddie meets Buck 1.0#thanks everyone so much I’ve never got such an incredible wave of support on a fic#yall gave me so so much motivation to write 💜💜#Over 170 notes on it???? crazy!! love you all so much asdalksd#taglist
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