#they're not gonna want to tell you next time they get damaged and you can't just rely on scans and weekly examinations

[my-thoughts-and-junk]

my new thing is obsessing over a funny little guy for a few months before moving onto another funny little guy

[teaboot]

Hey! Bamboo toilet paper person here. Your response was very thoughtful-- I want to apologize for placing the onus of climate issues on individual action, haha. I work at a zoo that bills itself as being very heavy on conservation messaging, but as a non-partisan organization we're obviously not allowed to talk about the evils of capitalism. This means that in our programming, we MUST place the responsibility of stopping climate change on individual guests, encouraging them to make more environmentally conscientious decisions like buying reef safe sunscreen or reducing carbon emissions by driving less. The most "political" we're allowed to get is telling people to stay educated and vote in favor of laws that will have a positive impact on the environment. I think I've been drinking the Zoolaid a little TOO much recently, because you're totally right-- the vast, VAST majority of damage to the environment is caused by major corporations, not random people working around their own unique needs. It was also low key a little ableist of me to take issue with that ngl.

Obviously no obligation to respond to this publicly (though it's fine if you choose to do so), but I did want to thank you for your response and mention that it did get through the nonprofit mission-based-organization propaganda living rent free in my head haha. Cheers!

Hey, you work at a zoo? That is SO cool, aadsdggjjg@!!!

And hey, no worries, you totally had a good point about endless waste and trying to counter it where possible- Just from personal experience involved in the barest edge of the fashion industry, I really, really, REALLY hate the idea that, like... people can't access simple shit like plastic straws, even if they're the best, most practical, least-harmful option for them.... because a 12 year old made up some random number for a school project about plastic waste

Where, as a zoo person, I imagine you're already aware that the average sea turtle is WILDLY more likely to die from abandoned plastic fishing nets or ocean-dump grocery bags than accidentally get a straw inside it

So here we are, using paper straws!- which may be an improvement, or may not, I don't have that data, and construction emissions are their own thing- BUT WE STILL HAVE OCEANS FULL OF ABANDONED NETS

WHICH ARE OBJECTIVELY WORSE, but MUCH harder to get rid of, and as the average person doesn't USE fishing nets, it'd much harder to market as a "You, not me" sort of issue.

Cleaning up fishing nets isn't trendy. It isn't sexy. You can't troubleshoot a cute little trendy solution for it that you can market to upwardly-mobile tweens.

But a reusable water bottle? A cute canvas tote? A metal straw? That's a solution you can buy and feel good about.

Never mind that you need to use a single cotton reusable bag somewhere like a million times before the cost of its construction counterbalances the cost of a single grocery bag every time you shop- which, hey, some of us were reusing as trash liners for their wastebaskets, or bundle bags for donating clothes, or lining for our leaky winter boots!

If a better option is available, I'll take it. But as ZERO HARM is next to impossible at this time, I personally am gonna aim for MINIMAL HARM as long as I can.

...sorry, I didn't mean to ramble off again.

But hey, if your nonprofit is doing good things, feel free to shoot me a link! I can post it on my blog :D

(Link to original post for context lol)

[thisapplepielife]

Written for a @astrangersummer.

Save it For a Rainy Day

Week #9 Prompt: Where It All Started | Word Count: 1950 | Rating: T | POV: Wayne | Characters: Wayne, Eddie, Steve | Pairings: Wayne & Eddie, Steddie | CW: Eddie's Rough Start in Life, Parental Neglect, Language, S4 Canon | Tags: Good Uncle Wayne Munson, Taking in Eddie, Eddie and Steve Meet as Kids, Haircuts and Swimming Playdates, Fix-It, Happy Ending

He's so little. 

That's the only thought Wayne has, over and over again. He's so goddamn little. With lank, limp hair, all snarled and knotted, matted. Unkempt. Dirty. Dark circles under his sullen eyes. He's small, but at the same time he looks every bit of a hardened fifty-five, at all of seven-years-old.

He didn't look like that the last time Wayne had seen him. 

And Wayne is sick that he's deteriorated to this point, in just two years time. At five, he had been a happy, wild boy. All snips, snails and puppy dog tails. 

With a loud mouth and big, round cheeks.

Al swore he was fine, that they both were, on the rare occasions when he'd call after losing Betts and Wayne had believed him. Until the social worker was on his front steps, Eddie standing there, head bowed, so utterly serious.

"Do you want me to find someone to try and comb it out, or would you like to shave it and start over?" Wayne asks, and Eddie just shrugs. Still not talking, still buried deep within his shell.

Wayne's not going to decide for him. Thinks it should be his decision, but knows it can't stay like this either, even if he doesn't have it in him to start dragging a comb through it. He knows that'll hurt, and he can't do it to Eddie. Won't. 

"When you decide, you let me know," Wayne says, hoping he'll decide sooner rather than later.

It takes three days, but Eddie finally comes up behind Wayne on the couch, and taps him on the shoulder, and makes the motion for shaving his head.

"Okay, I'll get you an appointment," Wayne tells him, because he wants to do this right, and not leave Eddie with the memory of Wayne shaving his head in the kitchen of the trailer. Maybe that's cowardly, but he'd rather push that off on a professional. 

Eddie is sitting on the little wooden board the hairdresser placed over the arms of her chair to make him taller, the hydraulic lift hadn't even been enough to get him where she needed him, and he somehow still looks little.

She gently, oh so gently, takes the clippers to Eddie's hair, shaving off strips, as she talks him through each pass. Eddie seems fine with it, there are no tears, but no smiles either.

This was the right call. A beauty shop, not a barber. Wayne's own barber does just fine on his own hair, but wouldn't have been so delicate with Eddie, and right now, Wayne's pretty sure his boy needs a soft touch.

There's another boy in the chair next to Eddie, probably the same age, but he's so much larger, and more animated. Studying every move of her hand as she barely trims anything off his thick head of hair. He doesn't need the booster board, even if Wayne suspects he's younger than Eddie.

"Nanny Louisa, can I get my haircut like that?"

She laughs, "Steve. Your mother would have both of our hides. We all have very strict orders for your haircut and you know it." 

"Aw, man, it looks so cool," Steve whines, and if Wayne isn't mistaken, that's Richard Harrington's boy. And if that's true, there's no way he's leaving here with his head shaved, that's for damn sure.

And then, as if it were a miracle, Eddie smiles. It's small, faint, barely there. But it's a goddamn smile, aimed at the other little boy that is watching as Eddie's hair falls down all around his chair and onto the floor.

The Harrington boy doesn't win, and only gets a trim, but Eddie has straightened up on the board. Not nearly as withdrawn as he was when they entered the shop.

Maybe shedding all that damaged hair feels like a new start. Wayne sure hopes so, because they're gonna need all the help they can get.

When he's all brushed off, and the plastic cape removed, the hairdressers each hand Eddie and the Harrington boy a coupon for a free ice cream cone at the shop down on the corner. It's a perk for being good in the chair, and they both earned it today.

Eddie clutches his coupon in his little hands.

"Do you want to save that, or get it now?" Wayne asks, and Eddie looks torn. That isn't the look Wayne wants on his face, so he quickly amends his question, "Or both? You can save your coupon for a rainy day, and we can still get ice cream now," Wayne offers.

"Really?" Eddie says, looking so hopeful, and it's the most beautiful word Wayne's ever heard in his whole life.

"Really," he reassures, "you save it until you want to use it. And I'll buy, today."

"Can we go get ice cream, too, Nanny Louisa?" the Harrington boy asks, and she looks reluctant, but finally nods. She couldn't let him get his head shaved, but ice cream, that's probably a much more doable request.

Wayne sits at the table with Louisa and makes the world's most uncomfortable small talk, as the boys sit at another table together, and jabber back and forth. Well, Steve is doing most of the talking, but Eddie, his sweet Eddie, has said more in the past thirty minutes than he has in the past week, and Wayne doesn't care who has gotten those words out of him, he'll be grateful. 

When the cones are gone, both boys appear at the side of the table, "Eddie's coming over tomorrow to swim," Steve announces. 

"Oh, is he?" his nanny asks, teasing Steve, and Wayne smiles. 

"He is. His uncle will bring him," Steve says with a confidence that things will always go his way in life, and Wayne hopes that rubs off on Eddie, just a little bit.

"I will?" Wayne teases, and Eddie meets his eyes, and Wayne nods. "If it's okay with Miss Louisa, I think that could be arranged."

"I don't know how to swim," Eddie admits on the way home, and Wayne laughs.

"Maybe you shouldn't have made a swimming playdate then, kid," Wayne teases, and Eddie laughs, a small quiet laugh. But it was a laugh. Wayne heard it.

"Yeah," Eddie says, and then he's quiet for a stretch, "could you teach me?"

Wayne isn't so sure that's his area of expertise, but he supposes he could try, "Yeah, I can try."

Knowing Eddie would be far too embarrassed to go to the public pool, Wayne takes Eddie out to the swimming side of Lover's Lake.

Wayne, not sure the last time he's even been in shorts, wades out in the water in his cut-off jeans, surely blinding the boaters a mile out with his white legs, as Eddie walks in beside him.

And Wayne teaches him, always staying within an arm's reach. And Eddie swims. It might not be the fancy strokes that the Harrington boy can surely swim, in his private pool with his private swimming lessons. 

But Eddie's doing it, and Wayne feels like maybe, just maybe, he's finally done something right for the kid today.

Eddie's laughing, and splashing, a quick study, and Wayne lets him paddle around for as long as he wants, until the sun threatens to sink beyond the horizon. 

Once back on shore, Wayne wraps him up in a towel, just one from the house, and gets him back into the truck.

"I'm starving," Eddie says.

"The downside to going swimming, I'm afraid," Wayne answers, but swings by Benny's Burgers on the way home, getting them both a burger, fries and a milkshake. Ice cream twice in one day is fine, Wayne's pretty sure, since Wayne's celebrating the first good day they've had since Eddie got here.

Anything the kid wants, forever, Wayne will do his best to make happen.

In the morning, Wayne brings Eddie by Melvald's General Store, to let Eddie pick out a beach towel from the rack. Eddie combs through them, so serious as he checks out the options: Star Wars and Barbie and Huckleberry Hound.

"Garfield!" Eddie finally declares, and Wayne supposes that's the one. 

"Garfield, great choice," Wayne says, taking the towel to the counter so they can pay for it. So Eddie won't be embarrassed bringing a fraying old towel from home. So he'll have something new, and fun, that he picked out all for himself. 

Wayne probably should have washed it first, but he's not that organized, and Eddie'll live. Wayne pulls off the tag and hands it over, and Eddie hugs it to his chest.

Pulling into the circle drive at the Harrington's is weird, to say the least. He's never set foot on the property, and never imagined he ever would. But, Eddie's brought a lot of changes, and if Eddie likes this other little boy, and he's kind, Wayne will be polite and make his boy happy in any way he knows how.

That evening, when he picks Eddie up, he's tired, and a little sunburnt, but rattling off information about his new friend and all their grand plans for the summer vacation.

And as time always goes, that summer flew by too fast, and before Wayne knew it, years had passed. The boys drifted apart as fast as they became friends. As kids do. By high school, Wayne hasn't heard the name Steve Harrington from Eddie's mouth in years. 

But that summer, that first summer, Wayne will forever be grateful for him. For Steve Harrington, Garfield beach towels, and more ice cream cones than he could ever begin to count. To swimming, and fishing, and playing in the backyard. 

To the little kid that made his boy smile again.

And when Steve Harrington, now grown into a man, shows up on Wayne's doorstep, Eddie's denim vest clutched in his hands, filthy and blood-stained, Wayne lets him inside without a word. 

Wayne takes one look at him, and tells him to wait there. 

He has to dig, but he finally finds Eddie's piggy bank in a cardboard box that he'd packed from the remnants of the trailer, and pulls out the bottom plug. Change falls out, clattering onto the desk. 

But inside, there's a slip of paper. Folded to fit, and dirty from spending so much time hanging out amongst the coins.

Wayne clutches it in his hand, and when he presses it into Steve's palm, trading him for the vest, Steve looks down at it, his eyes wet and red-rimmed.

Wayne starts, "I don't know if you remember-"

"Of course I remember," Steve cuts him off. 

"Well, I thought today might be that rainy day."

Steve laughs, and sniffles a little, both at the same time.

"This ice cream shop has been closed for years," Steve says, but he's finally smiling, just a little. 

Eddie's not here to do it himself, not here to coax out that smile, so Wayne's repaid the debt for Eddie himself. 

"Yeah, well…" Wayne trails off.

"But it is, you know," Steve says, "that rainy day. So, thank you."

And months later, Eddie shows up on Wayne's doorstep again. Dirty, his hair matted, and eyes downcast. Thin, worn to the bone, and as silent and stoic as he had been at seven. Wayne asks no questions. The answers don't matter right now. Instead, he pulls on him, hugging him tight, welcoming him home.

They've done this before, and they can do it again. And Wayne's grateful to have the opportunity. He was so sure he'd never see him again.

Then, after Wayne's gotten Eddie settled, and Eddie is standing in front of the bathroom mirror, combing out his own hair, Wayne excuses himself, heading for the kitchen to call Steve Harrington.

Wayne tells him to bring ice cream.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @astrangersummer and follow along with the fun!

[keerysfreckles]

safe haven - mike schmidt

pairing: mike schmidt x f!reader

summary: mike schmidt's next door neighbor seems on edge when she knocks on his front door. the reason being remains unknown, until mike orders a pizza and lets the scared girl stay the night.

warnings: use of y/n and she/her pronouns, mentions of an abusive and toxic relationship, slight cursing

michael schmidt wasn't used to any of his neighbors knocking on his door. the only interactions being simple waves while getting the mail, or nods of their heads when they drive by.

mike instantly recognized his next door neighbor as he opens the front door. he's seen her plenty of times before, but the two haven't spoken to each other.

he notices her shaken up appearance, as her loose t-shirt hangs off one shoulder, and the grey sweatpants on her hips are barely tied. her hair is down, but the baby hairs by her forehead are erratically skewed.

"hello?"

mike's simple gretting takes the girl out of her trance. she kept looking between mike and her own front door. she fiddled with her hands before responding.

"yes, hi, uh- look i know we've never really talked before, but can i please stay here for an hour? two at most," y/n pleads, her eyes never faltering from her front door, with worry filling her pupils.

mike nods, before opening his door so y/n can walk inside, "are you alright?"

y/n's fast to shake her head, "no, um- no not really."

mike doesn't think he's ever seen her like this. "do you want something to drink? or a snack or something?"

"just water, please," y/n shuffles awkwardly by the kitchen counter, as she watches mike grab a glass and fill it was tap water.

y/n's grateful once the cool liquid flows down her throat. all of the screaming she had just done really did some damage on her throat.

mike couldn't help but notice the small bruises covering her wrists, and the giant red mark on her neck as she tilted her head back to drink the water.

"do you want to talk about anything? you seem on edge," mike offers, as he leads the two to the living room. he sits on the couch, and y/n sits down beside him.

just as y/n opens her mouth to respond, abby comes running down the hallway, a notebook in one hand and colored pencils in the other.

"who are you?"

abby's bluntness throws y/n off gaurd, causing her to laugh. she can't even remember the last time she laughed.

"abbs, this is our neighbor, y/n. she's gonna hang out here for a bit," mike tells abby, watching as she sits at the coffee table in front of the couch.

mike and y/n both turn their attention to the tv, which is playing reruns of a sitcom. they both felt it wasn't the most appropriate time to talk about y/n's situation while abby was in the room.

"what are those marks on your wrist from?" abby suddenly asks, catching both adults off gaurd.

"oh, uh, they're from bracelets i had on earlier. guess they were too tight." mike took notice of the way y/n's voice shook at the end of her response.

"hey abby, why don't you go back to your room and draw something for y/n. yeah?" mike offers his sister, who nods in return, before she walks down the hallway back to her room.

"you don't have to talk about anything by the way. i'm not gonna force you," mike spoke softly, not wanting to scare y/n more than she already was.

y/n's knee started to shake and her voice wavered as she responded, "my boyfriend- well ex-boyfriend now uh- he got too much. everything was fine until last month when he started to get aggressive."

mike's eyes slightly widened.

"at first it was only verbally. but when i came home last week, he hit me because i stayed late at work. i tried to tell him why, but he just wouldn't listen," y/n's eyes started to water as she remembers the events that took place.

"today was just so bad. i had to get out of there before he did anything worse," y/n finally looks up at mike, and sees nothing but sincerity in his eyes. her heart slightly sped up at the fact someone was actually listening to her.

"so you came here to get away from him?" mike concluded, causing y/n to nod.

"you can stay here as long as you need to okay?"

y/n nodded once more, thankful for mike's proposal. however a harsh knock on the front door caused her head to turn quickly, and michael stood from the couch. "probably just some solicitors. i'll get them to leave."

y/n stayed on the couch while mike opened the door. his heartrate picked up once he was met with a taller man, with a scruffy beard and dark curly hair. he seemed to have a glint of hatred in his eyes, and mike could only guess this was the person y/n was hiding from.

"can i help you?"

"you haven't seen y/n around, have you? she ran out a bit ago," the man explained, seeming way too calm about the situation.

mike shakes his head, "nope, haven't seen her today."

y/n's heart races as she listened to their conversation from the living room. she can't help but worry he's going to come inside and take her back to the toxic home she just came from.

y/n picks her head up at the loud noise, and stands up abruptly from the couch once she sees mike stumble back from her ex-boyfriend pushing the door open.

"you bitch!" he screams, instantly grabbing y/n's wrist, making her yelp out in pain. "i told you not to leave! and you come over here to whore around with him?"

*brad let go," the only three words y/n manages to get out, as she's more focused on planting her feet to try and make her unmovable.

brad only pulls on y/n's wrist harder, and slaps her cheek with his empty hand. y/n cups her cheek in shock, as brad pulls her out of the house and into mike's front yard.

mike follows the two, and jogs over to brad and pushes his chest, causing him to let go of y/n.

"y/n get back inside, lock the door," mike orders. y/n's quick to run back inside as she watches mike tell brad off through the window.

a few minutes pass and mike knocks on the front door. y/n of course lets him inside his home, and as soon as he closes and locks the door y/n wraps her arms around his waist.

mike's shortly taken aback before he holds onto the poor girl. he hears her start to cry, as her body starts to shake. mike holds y/n's head to his chest and he gently sways the two side to side.

"you're okay. you're safe here," mike whispers against the top of y/n's head. "do you want to stay for dinner?" he offers, of course wanting to do nothing but cheer the girl up.

y/n pulls back from the hug and wipes her tears, before nodding her head.

mike's quick to dial the local pizza shop as y/n sits back down on the couch, her hand immediately goes to her wrist and looks at the new bruise already starting to form.

mike walks down the hallway to abby's room, for two reasons. he first asks if she heard any of the yelling, to which she responded no since she had her radio playing. and secondly he asked if she wanted to join him and y/n in the living room and have pizza soon.

y/n watched as both mike and abby walked out of the hallway. mike sat beside y/n on the couch and abby sat at the coffee table again, as she continued to work on her drawing for y/n.

"are you cold?" mike asks y/n, seeing the goosebumps covering her arms. she simply nods, and mike leans forward and removes the dark grey hoodie he was wearing. y/n couldn't help but look to his stomach as the movement of him taking the hoodie off cause his shirt underneath to lift. he smiled as he handed her the article of clothing, and couldn't help but feel his heart warm at the sight of his hoodie covering y/n's torso.

a half hour passes, and mike seems to notice how a weight has lifted off y/n's shoulders. y/n and abby have been in a deep conversation about cartoon characters. the conversation however is cut short when the doorbell rings, making y/n jump from her spot on the couch.

mike reaches forward and places his hand over her knee, causing her to look at him. "it's okay, it's just the pizza."

the reassurance calms y/n down, and mike walks to the door. he pays the pizza delivery boy and places the greasy pizza box on the coffee table. he's quick to get paper plates for the three of the them before he sits back down besides y/n.

the trio enjoy their meal together, and abby starts asking y/n questions. like where she's from, where she goes to school, what her favorite color is, and a plethora of other random questions.

after the three finish dinner, mike and y/n are captived by a movie that was now playing on tv. abby was busy adding the finishing touches to her picture for y/n, and was excited to give it to her.

y/n looks down and sees abby handing her a colorful piece of paper, "is this for me?" abby nods.

y/n looks over the paper, seeing three people resembling mike, abby and herself. the figures seem to be outside as they're together in a grassy area with flowers surrounding them.

"i love it abby," y/n smiles, "i'll keep it forever."

two hours pass, and after another movie plays, abby had fallen asleep with her head on her notebook, her right hand still gripping a red colored pencil. mike only laughs, before he shakes abby's shoulder to wake her up.

"i'll be right back," he states. y/n nods as she watches mike lead abby to her bedroom to put her to bed. y/n looks at the clock placed on the wall and sees its nearing eleven pm.

y/n leans her head back on the couch, and can't help but let her eyes close, as sleep takes over.

mike whistles while walking back into the living room, after saying goodnight to abby. his whistling is cut short when he looks at the sleeping girl on his couch. he chuckles at her positon. she's now in a curled ball, as her arms are crossed over her chest.

mike turns off the tv, and grabs the blanket draped over the arm of the chair from across the room. he places the material over y/n, before leaning down and kissing the girl's forehead. he wanted to make sure she knew she was always safe in his home.

[soupbabe]

Hey! So recently I was thinking back to the cannibal! reader with stu, and I was wondering if you can do that with the Sinclair siblings (separate ofc) with an s/o that’s a cannibal

The Sinclair Brothers with a Cannibal! S/o

Tbh cannibal reader is one of my fav kinds of reader to write <3 Honestly, these aren't the most romantic headcanons around, they're silly at most 😅

Warning: mentions and talk of blood and guts I guess lmao, the title is enough warning

Bo Sinclair

- Okay yeah Bo isn't known for his moral compass but I know that you were able to freak him out

- Today was rough, he's been chasing and going after a victim that he was sure slipped through his fingertips So to make him feel better you made him some chilli, not quite telling him what was in it yet

- He'd air out his grievances with his failure and you reassure him that you caught them for him...just to tell him that you're eating them right now.

- His eyes go wide as he spits out his food, he's more mad that you didn't tell him what's in his food than the actual act

- After Bo's initial shock calms down, he'll pull you close and kiss your forehead, telling you that you did a good job hunting and am even better job at cooking <3

- though if we're being honest it still traumatized him just a lil bit. From now on, everytime you serve him something with meat, he's side eyeing it and poking it around to make sure it wasn't someone he thought Vincent nabbed first

Vincent Sinclair

- I do think that you and Vincent would argue time to time just because of how protective he can be around the bodies

- He can't afford a body part to go missing for his sculptures, his brothers can't count on their hands the amount of times Vincent has nagged them for damaging the victims so severely

- Ignore that he has canonically decapitated a guy with no issue shh

- So there's a new rule for the two of you: first come first serve. Whoever captures and kills first gets to keep it.

- Honestly it's like a fun little game between you two, something to bond over

- Though I'd imagine there are moments where Vincent is sweet on you and tries to harvest some meat for you, sew his victims back up, and use them like they're good as new <3

Lester Sinclair

- I think he surprises himself with how calm he is when he sees you eating out of the not-100%-roadkill pile when you first meet. He knows what you're eating isn't deer or squirrel

- Sure, it's not something he'd ever think he'd ever see, he's keeping a knife close as he gets closer and takes you in

- I can't explain it but it's not that Lester is accepting and no judgemental of your diet, it's more that he's learned over the years to just not question things and to roll with the punches

- He likes to keep his s/o satisfied, he wants to make sure you at least eat your food safely and healthily

- So he hatches a plan to lurk outside Ambrose, wait for those who get to escape the twins, only for them to get "accidentally" ran over.

- Lester is such a sweetheart and is willing to wait all night for escapes and maybe a hitchhiker if he's desperate. He's always making sure that you're gonna be fed and stocked up for the next week <3

[disco-elysium-via-polls]

The following is a case file from Harry's ledger that seems to have been cut from the game. The text and audio is all still there in the game files, but the option to read it is inaccessible.

>Read a case file.

LOGIC - It takes about half an hour to piece one together, using the system you've devised. Which one do you want?

>COLLAPSING TENEMENT

DAMAGED LEDGER - This one's bad. Not that far from Precinct 41 -- in Central Jamrock -- there is an eight story apartment building with two hundred residents inside. It's the dead of winter, January. Snowing. Someone's beating their wife. It's half past midnight.

You get a complaint -- no one's there to take it. So you do call duty. The beating is taking place on the eighth floor. You take the elevator up. The building's creaking around you. Cold as hell. It's a run down old place. Concrete panels, rats everywhere.

And it's not pretty in the apartment either. By the time you arrive the husband's left. His wife has got her lip busted, face swollen. Eyes shut. Can't leave him, they're a *financial unit*. Enjoying this beautiful life in this beautiful tenement.

So anyway -- you take a leak before you leave.

In the apartment I got the call to?

DAMAGED LEDGER - Yes, cops do that. *While* you're taking a piss, you see a big crack in the wall. In the outer wall of the building. You can *feel* the cold air blow in. You take the elevator down, look up -- a big crack runs on the outer wall of the whole building.

Right from the foundation -- up to the eighth floor.

VISUAL CALCULUS [Easy: Success] - Oh god...

INLAND EMPIRE [Easy: Success] - No, no, no, no...

HALF LIGHT [Easy: Success] - Fucking hell.

The tilt is beyond the point of maximum deviation from the gravity bearing perpendicular. This means that the building is falling -- and will fall no matter what.

DAMAGED LEDGER - That's right. They trained you for this in cop school. Everyone has to pick a civil specialization so they can keep the city running: fire safety, first aid training, and so on. You took *building safety regulation*. And it tells you that this one -- is coming down.

+5 XP

Maybe not tonight. Maybe not even tomorrow. Maybe not the day after, but it's coming down. In a matter of days. It is physically impossible for it not to. And the two hundred people in there? They are all going down with it. The woman with the busted lip, the husband who beats her, their kids in the other room...

The drunk in the hallway. The girl in the elevator when you were going up. The youths on the stairs, laughing, smoking. The couple next to the apartment -- who made the call. They're all going to die.

But, you see, it's *freezing* outside. And there is no municipal government in Revachol. Nowhere to put these people. Two hundred people can't go to their *aunt's for a couple of days*. And above all -- there is no one to *tell* the building is coming down. No authority but you.

I'm gonna have to knock on every door and explain them how load bearing perpendiculars work?

I'm gonna have to go home and do nothing, not think about this ever again.

I'm gonna have to find my captain somewhere, first thing tomorrow. Maybe even *tonight*.

DAMAGED LEDGER - Bad, bad thoughts go through your head. So what you do is -- you call your partner. JV (only initials available) is up. He comes immediately. He didn't take building safety, but he believes you. He brings five more officers. Together you knock on *every door* and explain the situation.

The load bearing perpendicular. The maximum deviation. All of it... Some people believe you. Most don't. Some you have to *forcibly* remove. Some even pull guns on you. It takes 20 hours to evacuate the whole building. 200 people stand outside in the cold. Children cry.

Your captain puts them in a half-burned building 10 km South. It's got black mould and no roof, but hey -- it's better than death.

And then what?

DAMAGED LEDGER - And then the building doesn't come down. And it still hasn't. That was 52 days ago. BUT THAT IS NOT THE POINT. The point is -- it *will* come down.

+5 XP

Am I *absolutely* sure?

And when it does, everyone in there will die.

If it hasn't, it won't. I was wrong.

Oh god, I don't know...

DAMAGED LEDGER - 100000000000%

2. And when it does, everyone in there will die.

DAMAGED LEDGER - At the end of the day -- no one knows. The math says it *must* collapse. And the optics show that it doesn't. It's as if some kind of *evil spirit* is holding the tenement together, like the jaws of a trap. Luring the people back in. One by one. Already they're going... At least 40 of them are living there now.

As we speak. And you can't *keep* them from going back, because they all hate you. They despise you. They think you threw them out of their homes. Every day they despise you more -- and every day, more of them go back.

And every day is a day closer to the day the building will fall.

DAMAGED LEDGER - Exactly. These notes have been very clear. Seems you have been thorough with documenting this one. So -- which one of these do you want to read *next*? (Because there is nothing you can do about THE COLLAPSING TENEMENT).

[mayajadewrites]

I Wish I Hated You

summary: You don't do second chances. Especially after you gave your heart to Levi Ackerman, and he decided to throw it away so the next person has to repair the damage. Will Levi put his ego aside and finally admit his feelings for you are far deeper than you imagined? Or is a second chance out of the question?

warnings: eventual smut, this is a slow burn

ao3

C H A P T E R T W O: R E D

You watch Levi walk through the door with Erwin following closely behind. Erwin immediately spots you and mouths 'sorry' before holding up his phone to signal that he's going to text you. 

Levi doesn't make eye contact with you but he knows you're there. He walks up to the bar and orders two whiskey drinks for himself and Erwin. 

You feel your phone vibrate in your back pocket, assuming it's a message from Erwin.

Erwin: He insisted on coming here. I didn't want him to come alone and do something stupid.

You: Did Hange tell him I would be here?

Erwin: Not sure. He might've heard her talking to you though. She's awfully load.

You: Of course. 

"Hange, I'm gonna need you to start being more self aware." You sigh. Hange tilts her head to the side and looks at you before following your eyes and turning around to see Levi. 

"Fuck, I'm sorry! I didn't think I was talking that loud!" 

"It's okay. We're bound to run into each other at some point or another." You take a sip of your drink, letting the liquid slide down your throat. "I need another." 

"It's on me." Hange stands up and orders another round at the bar. She stands next to Levi as she waits for the drinks, pushing on his shoulder. He's wearing a grey henley with black jeans and black boots. You can't hear what's being said, but you see Levi's eyes dart away from Hange's. 

"Here you go!!" Hange danced as she brought the drinks back. "Man, your ex is a dick." She sipped her beer. 

"You're telling me. Cheers to me for not being with him anymore!" You clink your glasses, receiving a glare from Levi. 

His slate colored eyes finally met yours. One of his eyebrows were raised as he sipped his drink, holding your gaze. You can't help but stare into his eyes - the eyes you woke up to most mornings, the ones that observed you so closely that he knew exactly what to do to make you go crazy. 

You chug your 4th drink, wiping some excess liquid off your lips. Your head feels like it's spinning, which means it's time to stop drinking because it'll only get worse from here. 

Erwin comes over and says hi verbally, giving you a hug. "I'm sorry about this again. He's been in such a mood today." 

Your eyes fall to Levi again, this time he's already staring at you. Your heart feels like it's skipping several beats as he gets up from the barstool, seemingly coming your way.

"Levi, go away." Hange waves her hand. "You want to cause more damage? She's having fun."

"She's drunk." Levi said flatly, examining your face. "You see her cheeks? They're a shade before red. She needs to go home."

"You have no authority over her anymore, Levi." Hange's tone turned serious. "She's not yours." 

Levi didn't respond. He kept his eyes on you as you looked back and forth between him, Hange, and Erwin.

"I'm fine." You finally speak, sipping on the water Hange brought for you. "I'm gonna uber home once Hange and I are done." 

"No, I'm gonna drive you home." Levi pulled a chair to your table. 

"I'd rather walk home." You turn your head away from him. "I'll call a ride." 

"From who? What's his name?"

"Why do you assume it's a man? I was talking about calling Mikasa. I'll take any other Ackerman to drive me home other than you." 

Erwin could not help but laugh when you said that. He patted Levi on the back, shaking his head. "Levi what am I gonna do with you." He says between laughs. 

"The only Ackerman that will be driving you home is me." Levi ignores Erwin. "I'll make sure no one else can pick you up." 

"You're insane." You finally look at him, which was a mistake. Your heart almost melts at the sight. "Fine. If it'll make you shut up, you can drive me home."

Levi is content with that answer. He starts a conversation about something else for a bit, occasionally watching you. Soon Erwin pays the tab because he feels so bad about Levi.

"Next time I'll text you for drinks." Hange hugs you. "Small fry, please get her home safe. I don't want to hear anything crazy tomorrow."

"I'm always safe. Thanks for your concern, four eyes." Levi holds his hand out for you to take to get up from your seat.

"Absolutely not." You slap his hand away. "This is a ride. Because I'm drunk and can barely see my phone screen." You stand up slowly. "Just take me to your car." 

Levi walks in front of you to his car and opens the passenger door for you. You refused to take a step until he gets in the drivers seat.

"Come on, stop being stubborn." Levi rolls his eyes.

"Sit in your seat then I'll sit in mine."

"Even when you're obliterated you're hard headed." Levi went to his side and got into the drivers seat. You climb into the passenger seat, buckling your seatbelt and closing your eyes. Your apartment isn't too far from the bar, so this won't be too torturous - being in a car with Levi. 

You turn your gaze to him and watch him drive. He has one hand on the steering wheel, the other one tapping his leg almost nervously. His face looks stone cold. 

"Thanks." You open your door and get out of he car. "I'll have Hange bring me to my car tomorrow."

"I'm helping you inside." Levi turns the ignition off and  stands next to you outside. 

"I don't need anything from you. Especially your help." You fish through your purse for your keys. You can barely tell which is which but you will. 

"I need to make sure you don't die in there. I don't want you to choke on your own vomit." 

"That was one time." You rolled your eyes, walking with Levi to your front door. 

He uses his key to unlock your door before sliding it back in his pocket. 

"I'm gonna need that back." You look at him before walking in.

Levi doesn't answer, he just walks into your home. He grabs a bottled water from the fridge and some medicine from the cabinet. "Go change."

You don't have the energy to say anything back. You go in your room and put on one of your favorite baggy tshirts that covers your ass, so you don't need to put pants on. You pull your hair into a messy bun and you pad to the living room and grab the water from him. 

"I'm good now. You can leave." 

"I'm staying and taking you to your car tomorrow."

"Levi, can you please leave me alone?" You throw your head back. "I've thought about you every fucking second of this last month. I don't need to see you in my house." 

Levi sighs and sits on the couch. "I'll leave once you fall asleep." He looks down, interlacing his fingers together.

"Levi." You sigh. You watch as he looks up at you, his eyes look... sad. Unfortunately for you, you possess empathy. "Fine." You turn around and walk into your room and take a sip of the water. Once you get in bed, the room feels like it's spinning and you close your eyes to stabilize yourself. Then, you doze off.

You feel a warm hand on your cheek but you refused to act like your felt it. A thumb moved across your cheek to your hair, tucking a piece behind your ear. Then the hand was gone and you heard your bedroom door close, and then your front door. 

- 

When you wake up, it's noon. Good thing you're off today. 

Your head is pounding but not as bad as it could be. You take a sip of the water thats on your nightstand and stretch your upper body. 

After you brush your teeth and hair, you make your way to your kitchen to make a quick lunch. You see a cup of iced coffee and a bagel on your counter along with a note. 

Your favorite hangover meal.

Levi

[mj-iza-writer]

Whumptober Day 16

Necrosis - Swamp - Wound Cleaning - "No, I can't feel anything"

"Caretaker, we shouldn't be doing this", Whumpee stammered, "Whumper will find out."

Caretaker watched Whumpee walk across the floor.

"You seem perfectly fine for someone with as many health concerns as Whumper says you have", Caretaker judged, "so what's the story?"

Suddenly the door swung open and Whumper marched in.

Whumpee's knees buckled in panic, and they fell to the floor.

"What the heck is going on in here?", Whumper yelled.

"Whumpee can walk", Caretaker frowned disapprovingly, "what are you up to?"

"No they can't, you could have severely injured them. Damaged their legs", Whumper yelled as they went to Whumpee and lifted them up, "you could have ruined all of my hard work."

Whumper carried Whumpee to a wheel chair.

"You are here to assist me in their care, I will fire you if this happens again", Whumper stormed out of the room.

Caretaker looked at Whumpee.

Whumpee quickly told them to drop it, "it's safer for everyone", Whumpee sighed.

The next few days Caretaker watched as Whumper took care of a fairly healthy person. They treated Whumpee as though they were extremely sick.

Caretaker frowned, they had to do something or else Whumpee would get sicker.

"Please, Whumper sir", Caretaker heard Whumpee cry out one day, "I hate these."

"I know, but they're good for you", Whumper dumped a bucket of ice into burning hot water, "you won't get better without this."

Whumpee looked down at their body, Whumper was the reason their body was so frail now. They were fine before Whumper took them.

Caretaker came in, "Whumper in my professional opinion, Whumpee is fine, you don't have to..."

Whumper scoffed, "right, you've only been here a week, and you're telling me how to take care of them", Whumper glanced at Whumpee, "you want sick... fine."

Whumper went and grabbed Whumpee, and shoved them to the ground.

Whumpee screamed, "no, what are you doing?"

Whumper kicked them repeatedly in their lower back until Caretaker managed to pull them off.

Caretaker tried to restrain Whumper, he was strong from taking care of Whumpee for so long.

"Let go of me", Whumper yelled as he fought Caretaker, "you want them sick and unable to walk. I'll break every bone in their body."

Caretaker was finally able to overpower Whumper, and restrained them.

Caretaker called emergency for back up.

"Whumpee", Caretaker quickly knelt beside them, "are you alright?"

Whumpee shook, "no, he did something, I can't move", Whumpee started to sob, "I can't feel anything."

"Okay, it's gonna be okay", Caretaker promised, "police and medical will be here soon. We'll get you medical attention."

Whumpee breathed a shaky breath.

Whumper continued to thrash for a second then paused.

"Wait Whumpee, what did I do? Whumpee", Whumper yelled, "I'm sorry, wait, they need my help."

"You injured them, I'm not letting you anywhere near them", Caretaker talked over their shoulder.

"I know what to do though, there will be complications if it goes for a long time untreated", Whumper pulled at the restraints, "Whumpee tell them."

"I don't want you to touch me anymore", Whumpee yelled, "I can't feel anything because of you."

"You just swore you'd break every bone in their body", Caretaker turned angrily.

"I hope I paralyzed you for good this time. I hope you never walk again", Whumper thrashed in the restraints again, for everything I've done for you... you ungrateful..."

Whumper seemed to be getting his wish, a month following, and Whumpee was still paralyzed from their waste down.

Caretaker took care of Whumpee full time now.

"I went from a healthy body to having a caregiver who made me sick. Now I actually need a caregiver. I'm glad it's you", Whumpee smiled at Caretaker as they were wheeled out of therapy one afternoon.

"I'm glad", Caretaker patted Whumpee on the shoulder, "we'll get your body back as much as we can. Maybe you'll even be able to walk one day."

Whumpee grinned, "hopefully one day."

Taglist. As always please let me know if you want to be added or taken off of the list. It's not a problem at all.

@villainsandheroes @the-beasts-have-arrived

@sacredwrath @porschethemermaid

@monarchthefirst @generic-whumperz

@bloodyandfrightened @freefallingup13

@notpeppermint @cyborg0109

@idontreallyexistyet @painfulplots

@whumpbump @everythingsscary

@skittles-the-whumpee @expressionless-fr

@theforeverdyingperson @legendarydelusiongoatee

@candleshopmenace @whumpanthems

@lavndvrr @ivymyers

@starfields08000 @a-living-canvas

@lumpofsand @watermeezer

@indigoviolet311 @whumpy-mountains

@3-2-whump @risk606

@electrons2006 @paperprinxe

@whumprince @kaz-of-crows

@mis-graves @decaffeinatedtimetraveler94

@sausages-things @ragin-cajun-fangirl

@isikedmyself878 @daffyduckcommittedtaxfraud

@valravnthefrenchie @glennemerald

@jasperthecapser @does-directions

@deafeninglittlecrown @jumpywhumpywriter

[patsothercorner]

Try Again

TW: mature themes. do not read if you can't handle it. based on true real events.

I was 3. During an eye appointment, when I said I couldn't see the letters on the giant glowing screen. The doctor looked at me.

Try again.

I was 4. The dresser had fallen, me taking the brunt of it. I'm trapped, under the bed, where I attempted to seek shelter. I'm stuck. I can't get out.

Try again.

I was 6. After an hour of attempting to tie my shoe, my father glared at me.

Try again.

I was 8. Tears in my eyes as I get tackled to the concrete by a middle schooler. I told him I couldn't get up. He looked at me, outstretching his hand for me to take.

Try again.

I was 9. I walk down the stairs, and watch as my father presses his knee into my mother's neck. I listen to my mom call his mom. Saying she's gonna leave next time, but that for now, she'll do what she's been doing.

Try again.

I was 10. My father showed me how to mow the lawn. I miss the line, again and again. My dad rolls his eyes.

Try again.

I was 11. Locked in my home, while people outside suffered. The virus taking over every source of entertainment I had access too. I ask my sister to play a game. She says no.

Try again.

I was 11. I sit in my room and stare at the walls. Walls that were once clear, now have marks of my agony and suffering. I pick up the blade and swipe it across my skin. Nothing happens.

Try again.

I was 12. It's late. Maybe 3am. I open the medicine and scan for the ones I'd think would do the most damage. I take 4. Nothing happens.

Try again.

I was 12. Tears fall down my face as I stare at the pills once more, this time, they've multiplied. 16. I take them all. Something happens. I start to think. About my life. About all the things I have to live for. It isn't much. Still, I stick my fingers down my throat, and gag. Nothing happens.

Try again.

I was 12. Third time wasn't the charm. Neither was the fourth. Or the fifth. Maybe it's not my time. I think that's what my mom thinks when she looks at my arms. She asks if I want help. I look at her.

Try again.

I was 13. The blade was buried under dust, left untouched. Tears fall down my face as my therapist tells me that my father has good reason to beat me. She tells me kids have the tendency to be dramatic. I look at my shelf, where my worst enemy had found home.

I was 13. I stare at my sister as my father threatened to shoot my cousin. I watch as the boy who made our life hell for two years, sits there, and faces the man I've faced many times before. He's scared. He picks up his shoes and leaves. I don't miss the way my father smiles at me. Saying the same words.

Try again.

I was 13. The music volume isn't enough. They're yelling again. Fighting. You'd think they'd be tired of it, the arguing. But everytime, it's the same thing.

Try again.

I was 14. Getting home from a fun day at the fair with friends. The house is quiet, the silence as stark contrast from my pretty cousins running around. Young, one still a toddler, one starting 5th grade. My sister and I sit on the bed as my father stands in front of us. They're divorcing. They'll figure out the details later, but for the night, he's leaving. He does. My mom sits us down on the couch. He'd choked her. The kids were awake. Nobody knows what they'd heard. She wasn't going to assume they'd heard nothing. She'd ask when they were awake. Until then, we do what we keep doing.

Try again.

I was 14. We hadn't moved out yet. School had started. I wasn't enrolled. They hadn't accepted me. My mom suggests we move to the same district.

Try again.

I was 14. We'd moved out. I'm a week behind. I don't know anyone. Making friends is hard.

Try again.

I was 14. I made a couple friends. They're not great. It's okay. Better than being alone. I look at the walls of my bedroom. White. I can't bring myself to put anything on them. They're better white anyway. I've looked through the boxes. I've found the blade.

Try again.

I was 14. My mom stared at my arms once more. Not as bad as last time. An isolated incident. She asks if I want help.

Try again.

I was 14. New lady. She's nice. I like her.

Try again.

I was 15. I sit in my room, staring at the white walls, bottle in hand. I hadn't opened it. I stopped this problem a while ago. I look at the bottle. I open it. What's the harm?

Try again.

I was 15. I don't know how much I'd drank, maybe a shot or two. I open the medicine cabinet. Do I do it?

Try again.

I was 15. Tears fall as I listen to my dad's voice through the phone, muffled by my mom's ear. She's not crying, but I can tell she wants to.

Try again.

I was 15. They're going to therapy. We're going out to dinners again. He's coming over again. We're going over again. They're getting back together.

Try again.

I was 15. I'd tried again. A couple times. Every time, it'd failed. So I gave up. Maybe living is for me. Maybe I should be like my mom.

Try again.

I was 15. Living's not so bad. It's hard. But maybe it gets better. Maybe it's worth it. Maybe, instead of giving up, I should do what everyone else is doing.

Maybe I should try again.

Maybe trying again is hard, sure, especially when that's all I've been doing. But I guess when you do something long enough, you start to get the hang of it.

It's easy to say it. Try again. But doing... one of the hardest things we'll ever do as humans. I'm only 15. I shouldn't know the things I know. I shouldn't have gone through what I have.

I'm more mature than my sister, even though she's older. I've shielded her. She doesn't deserve to think the way I do, to realize the things I do. She doesn't like that I've done that. But it's hard to just stop when I've been doing it for years.

I've tried again. I haven't picked up the blade in months.

I'm trying again.

I stopped drinking. Addiction runs in my family.

I'm trying again.

I still talk to my therapist. She's helped a lot.

I'm trying again.

I've made great friends. Real friends.

Trying again.

I haven't tried to stop trying in almost 6 months. Fighting for me.

It's okay to fall. It's okay to struggle. It's okay to be sad. It's okay to cry. It's okay to not be okay.

It's not okay to not try again.

From me to you, do whatever you want. I can't make these decisions for you. But I can tell you this.

Try. Again.

[allastoredeer]

~Lucifer blanches. He looks around, as if trying to find a sense of Alastor’s words somewhere in the trash-heap he calls a room, before rounding back to him, lips pulling up in disgust. “Are you asking me out?”

“Ahaha!” Alastor laughs, slapping him so hard on the back it nearly takes Lucifer off his feet. “Oh, Heavens no. I’m just proposing we let Hell continue thinking that you and I are,” he waves his hand, searching for the word, “in cahoots. In that way.”~

This is golden comedy right here. Honestly every time I read ur fic I always start wheezing so hard I can’t breathe, u are an amazing writer, hope u know that. When I saw ur last update on the ‘damage control’ chapter i was so excited i devoured it so fast help

Alastor saying he wants to be in ‘cahoots’ with Lucifer it’s so funny to me cause no one use that term anymore, and Lucifer is just downright dumbfounded that they are even having the conversation. I can imagine the shadow rolling his eyes at them, we need more sassy shadow moments, he is so underrated. 😭😭

I love that Lucifer is trying to respect Al boundaries, especially after the ‘incident’ , and doesn’t pry to much on his scars, but now I am curious about what did Al meant. Does he not remember who did that to him? 🥺

Also I am curious about what they gonna tell to the others about their new found relationship. I don’t think Lucifer would want to lie to Charlie, but I also think that it would be too risky to make the whole crew knew they are acting, someone might slip. And it’s not like Al is gonna make it easy for Lucy anyway. If they want to be credible, less ppl knowing it’s best course of action for me.

Last thing~ I really wanted to thank you, cause ur fic really brings me a lot of joy since I recently only been able to find happiness in small things like these , and I I can’t wait to read more🌈

Hehehe, Alastor purposefully refusing to go into depth about their "sexual relationship," and even side-stepping outright calling it a relationship, is what's going to make it all more entertaining when he actually has to commit to the bit. Cuz you see, they're not fucking. They're "in cahoots."

It's different.

(I love Alastor's Shadow being sassy. If it's attached to Alastor, it has to be. I take no critiques.)

😈 Alastor and his scars is something I'm very excited to get into it. I've been thinking about them for a while, and while it may take a bit to actually get the answer, I'm very eager to get there when we do.

The way I see it, Alastor doesn't want to tell the others (as they already know their not actually dating--as he made VERY clear last time), but Lucifer isn't going to be okay with lying to Charlie. Out of the group, Alastor knows he can trust Husk and Niffty to keep it a secret. Maybe Angel Dust too. But he's most worried about Charlie and Vaggie.

Vaggie isn't a good liar, and Charlie's such an open, bright, heart-on-her-sleeves person, he doesn't trust her to keep up the ruse without letting something slip--most likely by accident.

But Lucifer is stubborn. He doesn't want to lie to Charlie, and if he tells Charlie, Charlie is going to tell Vaggie. If Vaggie knows, well, we already know she has a hard time lying on the spot, so if the others see Alastor and Lucifer suddenly "in cahoots," and ask about it, she's not going to be able to come up with a plausible excuse on the fly.

This is all to say, the next installment is going to be full of silly Hazbin Crew hijinks, where Alastor is forcefully enrolled into Chaggies Dating 101 Crash Course, and he is definitely not setting the grading curve. (And maybe we'll even get a bit of HuskerDust thrown in there, who knows. Certainly not me).

And it warms me so much to know that my fic can bring you joy in a time that such things are scarce 🥺 I can't wait to share more of the story with you!

[sugar-champagne]

To the nurses office

Jeffery x Reader

Summary: after getting beat up by Kylar again someone actually takes the time of day to see him he’s ok

Jeffery’s POV:

The day started out like normal. I was reading the latest chapter of Fairy Tale when I was so rudely interrupted by Kylar asking me why I was reading a “picture book.”

And I guess that’s where the argument started. I tried to explain that it was manga, but I guess his small jock brain was too stupid to understand the complexities of these books.

But it was no use. When the arguments ended, like they always do, I was on the floor, and my glasses broke from a punch to the face again. My dad is going to be so mad that my mom will have to buy a new pair.

But something was different about this day, something I never thought would happen, and that’s when I heard the voice of an angel.

It was Y/N. We have never spoken much before, but they always treated me like a real person, they came up to me, held my face, and asked me if I was okay. Not even the sharp sting of the punch could distract me from how soft their fingers felt against my skin.

I tried to answer them and tell them I was okay, but I could do nothing but stumble over my words. I couldn’t help it; they were so close, our faces nearly touching as they inspected my face for serious damage.

After trying to talk once more and stumbling over my words again, they lifted me to my feet like I weighed nothing (I look like I weigh 90 pounds soaking wet).

I stood there, their hand still holding mine. I stumbled a little, but they caught me and wrapped their arm around my waist to hold me up.

I couldn’t articulate how amazing it felt to be in their arms and being pressed so firmly against their side. I could smell the sweetness of their vanilla body spray that they use every day.

We finally made it to the nurse's office, but the nurse wasn't there. She was probably out on her smoke break. This is probably for the better since the nurses are getting sick of me coming in every day, but it’s not my fault I'm surrounded by a bunch of barbarians.

Y/N pulls me forward to the empty chair as they search the nurse's office. They found a pack of Band-Aids and ice packs. Then they sat right next to me. That was the closest i’ve ever been to an such an attractive person before .”. They started to speak again, and my adrenaline finally died down. I started to hear their soft, beautiful voice.

“Wow, he really left a mark on you, didn’t he? You should know better than to even talk to Kylar. You know he can't handle complicated words.” Then Y/N placed an ice pack on my sore cheek, which was a relief to the searing pain in my face.

“They broke my glasses. I just got these fixed the other day. My dad's gonna be so mad,” I said. And just then, Y/N took them out of my hands. “They don't look too bad. This happens to my dad all the time. You could just pop the glass back in the frame… And there we go, all done. Looks like I saved you from another argument, hehe.”

Oh, that laugh. I could listen to it on repeat forever. I don't know why they're so nice to me, but I can't deny I love this attention. “I wonder when you'll stop finally getting into so much trouble. I can't believe anybody would want to even fight you. I mean, look at you,” they said.

They started to gently pinch and rub my cheek, and in that moment, I felt like we were the only people in the world. I can only hope Y/N lets me stay a part of their world.

Hope you all enjoy 😉 more will be made

And to the people who really wanted it

@sakurashana

@iforgottoavoidthenoid

@zaythemain

@jeffery09luvr

[softpascalito]

Pedro Pascal Kinktober Day Twentyfour

Crossdressing - Joel Miller/F!Reader

Summary: Joel Miller has been wanting to try a different piece of clothing for a long time. It's not until you that he feels supported enough to do so. Turns out, you both really fucking like it.

Relationships: Joel Miller x F!Reader

WC: 2000

Tags/Warnings: Smut, Fluff, Insecurity, Soft Joel (The Last of Us), Crossdressing, Explicit Sexual Content, Explicit Language, slight mommy kink, Very slight internal homophobia if you squint, Jackson!Era, sub joel miller, just joel miller in a skirt bc he looks cute af like that

AO3 LINK

notes: let me prephase this by saying that everyone can wear skirts without it being sexual. but here, it kinda is. cause y'know, joel miller.

_________________________________________

It's the blush that gives him away.

Joel and you are on patrol, checking out some picked-over clothing stores. Spring is finally here and the clothing department in Jackson has been running low. With the town dance becoming a regular monthly event, demand for dresses, skirts and dress shirts has skyrocketed, despite them being rather impractical in the day to day life of most inhabitants of the city.

But people are just people. And they like celebrating, like the drinks and dances and an evening that feels far, far away from Infected or raiders or anything else that awaits them on the next morning past the wooden fences.

You haven't been immune to the illusions either and despite not having the most dance-happy partner, you have been begging Joel for weeks to at least join you for one slow dance in the barn. The mention of the no-doubt stunning dress that he'd get to see you in seemed to help.

“Oh, look at these!” You call from the corner of the clothing store, having found a section that holds a few dresses. A red sign looms over the racks, announcing the last sale of late summer. You shine your flashlight onto the first rack and let your fingers wander over a few of the fabrics peeking out to you, admiring the different shades of clothing.

“And they're on sale too. Aren't you a lucky girl?” Joel deadpans as he walks over to you, a small smirk on his face. You simply nod at his joke, fumbling with the price tag of one of the dresses, raising your brows, “Ah, yes. It's-” you squint, trying to make out the number that's printed on the weathered piece of paper, “fifty dollars.”

“Expensive taste you got there,” he mutters, finally reaching you and joining your effort of looking through the clothing items. You've picked out a yellow sundress, the print made up of small flowers.

“Was fifty dollars a lot?” You ask as you test the fabric, taking in how much damage time has caused. Joel raises a brow at that, “Depends on what you spend it on.” He comes up behind you, like he does so often, and places his chin on your shoulder, admiring the dress in your hand, “They would've been worth seeing you in that for sure.”

You turn at that, smiling sweetly as you hold the dress out to him, “Will you buy it for me?”

Joel frowns slightly, “You can just-” You quickly cut him off, already knowing what he's gonna say, “Just pretend to,” you mutter. “I can't wear this to the dance and not tell people that my boyfriend got it for me.”

He rolls his eyes a little but you don't miss the small smile on his face as he dutifully takes the dress into his arms, holding on to it for you, “You got yourself a deal, darlin'.”

You gather more clothes after that, as much as you can carry without your packs getting too heavy. It takes a while, finding the pieces that are still intact and not too washed out but there's a few nice ones and you nod approvingly as you roll up the last dress shirt.

Your gaze lands on Joel, who is securing his own pack, making sure that everything is holding together well.

“We need something for you as well, you know,” you scold, making your way back to the sale section. A soft sigh behind you lets you know that the man is not exactly a fan of shopping, even the free, post apocalyptic version.

A few more minutes pass before you find a nice shirt, a soft green that you're certain would compliment Joel well and you turn your head to look for your victim when you spot him back at the rack of skirts, running his fingers over something.

In a few strides, you're by his side and by the way he jumps a little as you appear next to him, he's clearly startled, “Jesus. What's up?”

His eyes scan the surroundings for possible danger as you shake your head, picking up the item he's been looking at. It's a pleated skirt of medium length, a plaid pattern similar to the ones that Joel's usual shirts carry. The colors are muted, beige and dark gray mixed with a few stripes of color.

The color that is the most interesting to you, however, is the one of Joel's face. His cheeks are a soft pink, the blush spreading down towards his neck. It's the same blush he had a few months ago in the sex shop, the same one he had when you had packed the pink strapon into your backpack and it's precisely the same color his cheeks turn when you're behind him at night, gently thrusting into him. It's that blush that gives him away.

“It's pretty,” you say gently, looking over at Joel to catch his reaction. He keeps a straight face that seems a little too straight to not be premeditated. 

“Yeah.” His voice is a little thin, confirming your suspicions and you watch him closely as he continues, maybe to break the slightly awkward silence, “Would look good on ya.”

“It would look good on you too, Joel,” you mumble, reaching out to take it off the rack and hold it between you. Soft, brown eyes meet yours and the look in them is so damn insecure it makes you wanna cry. He opens his mouth and closes it again, clearly struggling to find his words.

“I'm not-” You shake your head before he can go on, “I know. It's just a piece of clothing.” He nods at that, his gaze on the skirt in your hands.

“Tell you what, I'll pack this. If anyone asks, it's mine. That sound good?”

Joel clears his throat, looking down for a moment before nodding, “Sound good.”

You peck a quick kiss to his lips before leaning down to gently roll up the skirt and store it in your backpack, more than aware of Joel watching your every move.

You sigh, gently knocking on the bathroom door, “Joel, baby, come on out. At least let me see.”

A grumble behind the door, a similar response that you've already gotten a few times in the past twenty minutes, the exact time since Joel has disappeared into the bathroom to change into his newly acquired piece of clothing. It has taken a few days until he's come around to it after you hung it up in your shared closet.

Funnily enough, it reminds you of a cat after having a new piece of furniture placed in their home, the way they avoid it for days only to come closer and closer with each one until they finally determine that there's no danger and carefully discover the new item.

Joel is not yet in the no danger phase.

“Just one peek?” You ask quietly through the door and after another sigh, the door clicks and, inch by inch, opens. You take a few steps back, watching as Joel steps into the bedroom and your breath catches in your throat as you take in his form.

His broad shoulders are covered in a slightly worn-out sweater that pools around his waist. Below is the skirt, the pleating standing to the sides a bit, creating a cute form. His strong, hairy legs are bare, only his feet covered with black socks that he frequents.

You stare at his strong thighs peeking out, shamelessly and with your mouth slightly ajar and it takes you a second before you can pull yourself back to any thoughts other than the very inappropriate ones you're having right now.

Joel still looks self-conscious, his left hand playing with the hem of the skirt absentmindedly as he waits for your reaction. At your silence, he opens his mouth, of course, wrongly interpreting it, “Sorry, I didn't mean to- you know what, we'll just give it to the store.”

You surprise yourself with a small growl at that, sucking at your lower lip as you take a step towards him, “If you don't like it, we will.”

Your voice is quiet as you speak, “But goddamn, Joel, you look so hot right now.”

The blush is back and you're fairly certain that you've never seen him as shy as he looks now.

“You like it?” He still sounds so unsure and quiet and that's what makes you close the distance between you, reaching for his hand that's still fumbling with the fabric, “I love it. You look-” You force yourself to look up at him, taking in his soft, brown eyes, “You look absolutely amazing.”

A small breath of relief escapes him at that and he nods. You make a mental note to ask him about this sometime, how long he's been wanting to try a skirt. Your feeling tells you that it goes back, before you, before Jackson, possibly before the outbreak. Either way, you feel honored in a way, that he trusts you enough to do this with you instead of anyone else.

You watch as Joel moves a bit in the skirt, clearly trying to get a feel for the unfamiliar piece of clothing. He sits down on the bed, smoothing the skirt down over his bare legs and it's getting harder to ignore the heat in your stomach at that sight. Still, you don't want to turn this moment into something it's not, not unless he wants to.

Your hand finds his shoulder, squeezing slightly, your eyes darting between his eyes and his skirt, “You want me to-?” An eager nod comes before you even finish your question and with a small smile, you reach around to straddle him, placing your own form so perfectly on his lap.

“You look so fucking pretty, Joel,” you whisper again, your lips ghosting over his as your hand wanders behind you, caressing his knee for a few moments before slowly inching up his leg. It's something you've done a million times, skin that you've kissed and rubbed yourself on and stroked at night and still, this feels different.

Joel tenses under you, his breathing going a bit faster as he feels your hand moving further and further until, finally, you reach where you assume his boxers to be- just that they're not there. A small gasp escapes you at the surprise before you catch yourself and tut softly, staring right into the chocolate brown eyes in front of you. “First time wearing a skirt and you're already going commando?” You whisper, your voice hushed, “Were you hoping I'd find that? That I'd touch you like this?” Joel takes a sharp breath at your words. Or maybe it's the way your hand finds his balls, beginning to fondle them softly.

“You're being such a good boy for me, you know that? Looking all pretty for mommy.”

An actual whimper leaves Joel's lips at that and you know you've hit the mark. It does things to you, his noises, the skirt above his strong thighs, the little kisses you exchange and it isn't long until the skirt is pulled up, revealing Joel in all his glory for a split second before you're on him, enveloping him between your walls, your muscles already eager to milk him.

You play with the hem of his skirt afterwards, the same spot he'd held earlier. His breath is soft again and his heart is full, feeling so loved and worshiped and good.  

“You've been wanting to try that for a while, hm?” You whisper, finger ghosting over his thigh and he nods softly, “Yeah. Yeah, I guess I have.”

“Everything you imagined it to be?”

Brown eyes meet yours before he presses a gentle kiss to your cheek.

“Better,” he whispers, his eyes wandering down to your hand on his legs, the fabric covering his now softened dick, slowly getting used to the way it looks on him, to the way it feels around his legs and Joel Miller finds then, cuddled up with you in a heated bedroom somewhere in Wyoming that he likes wearing skirts.

People are just people.

[sea-owl]

I have had a shitty day today.

What has put a smile on my face is your accidental marriage trope.

Tell me, what kind of a shitshow does Phillip walk in to ag his first family dinner?

How does he top the chaos with his twins?

Not going to lie, I kinda want it to end with Violet smoking a cigarette in the garage. Trying to recover

I'm sorry you had such a bad day lovley.

Let's see, I've been debating this for a while but what if the accidental marriage also happened in the Full House au. So now we got the Crane twins running wild but they're being horrible influences on their younger cousins. Meanwhile Penelope is trying to stay calm because holy shit the random man from London aka her baby daddy was also here.

The Bridgertons descend on Phillip's home so they can work out some sort of agreement for the anullment, and they're nosy. They need to see what kind of man Eloise married, even if it's only temporary. Plus, since they're trying to stay on the downlow, it would be more inconspicuous for the family to travel separately to an unknown location to the media than to one of their homes.

One by one, the Bridgertons started to show. First to show was Sophie and Benedict, who live the closest. Anthony, Kate, and Violet were next. Violet just had to scout out the new potential grand babies. She has a gut feeling this Phillip fellow and his family are gonna be around longer than what the others think, no matter what Anthony says. Daphne and Simon follow behind. Gregory and Hyacinth drove all the way from University to see this shit show, some good quality entertainment right here. Colin and Francesca are the last to arrive.

Michael can't tell who's tenser between his two friends. He can understand why Phillip is tense. The Bridgertons are a powerful family. Hell, he remembers when John first started dating Francesca how big of a deal it was. Now, here was poor Phillip who just accidentally married in on a drunken night. Penelope has a story with these people though, he can tell.

The meal itself goes well. The Bridgertons ask questions. They learn Phillip is a botanist and a part time professor. He's never been married. He's 30. Favorite color is green. His two friends live with him mainly because he doesn't know what to do with this big house he inherited, so why not let his friends live with him. Two of the four children living in the house are his. No one admits that those children are from drunken one night stands. Better to keep that quiet.

Michael and Penelope get asked questions too. More so Penelope than Michael since Michael already knows the Bridgertons.

Things start getting interesting when they discuss the plan for Eloise's and Phillip's anullment.

"We can't do the anullment right away. The media is in a frenzy right now from Eloise's posts," Anthony starts. "That being said, they'll also be in an even bigger frenzy should we do the anullment too soon or if Eloise is spotted living with one of us. Do you mind her staying here?"

Phillip looked from Michael to Penelope. While it was his house, they lived here too, and he was always fair about them getting their say. Michael shrugged, he didn't mind. Eloise could easily keep up with the kids, and it seems like she's developing a fast friendship with Penelope, too.

"That's fine," Phillip agreed. "Just as long as the children living here are kept out of the media."

Anthony nodded. If there was one thing the Bridgertons could do, it was control the narrative. If they didn't want someone to be known, they could do it. I mean, look at Francesca, no one could find anything about her online unless she shared it. "Our family would feel more comfortable if two of us could possibly check in and keep an eye on things."

Eloise raised an eyebrow. "Are you siccing a babysitter on me?"

"I'm sending damage control," Anthony shot back. "You know Colin and Francesca are some of the best at getting the media to calm down."

"Why can't it be Benedict?" Eloise questioned.

Everyone looked towards the said Bridgerton and his very pregnant wife sitting next to him.

"Very well," Eloise muttered.

"Besides," Colin said. "We'll only be checking in. Officially, Fran and I will be visiting Benedict and Sophie to help them prepare for the baby."

Michael watched Penelope tensed further as Phillip agreed to the babysitters. He really needed to get that story out of her.

Then Violet asked to see the children. "I brought some sweets for them."

Phillip and Penelope got up to go get their respective sets of twins while Eloiseled her family to the sitting. Michael follows his friends to give the Bridgertons some privacy, and he figured this was his best chance to talk to his own little family.

Once they were far enough away from the dining room and not in hearing distance of the kids, Michael pulled his friends to the side. "You two need to relax. I don't know who was tenser between the two of you. I bet if we had put some coal in your hands, we could have made diamonds."

Phillip sighed while Penelope shot Michael a dirty look.

Michael shrugged. "Hey the scary part is over. Now we get to watch Violet get the kids on a sugar high."

Phillip rubbed his temples. "Oh lord, Amanda and Oliver on sugar."

Michael laughed. "Oh, I can't wait for my nibblings' chaos. But before that," Michael turned to the short red head. "What was with you this evening? I understand why Phillip was tense. But you were just as bad."

Penelope let out her own sigh. "Do you remember the random man from London?"

"Your drunken one night stand baby daddy? Yeah, what about him?"

"He's in the sitting room."

Both boys jaws dropped. "Which one?!"

"The babysitter," Penelope answered.

Michael couldn't help himself, he really couldn't. He busted out laughing. "So let me get this straight. The Bridgertons, one of the most powerful families in the country, the same people who gave even my perfect cousin John a hard time. You," he points to Phillip, "accidentally marry one, and you," he points to Penelope, " have babies with another. All thanks to drunk nights!"

Oh this was perfect! Michael couldn't wait to see this shit show play out. Couldn't ask for better entertainment.

"Aren't you in love with Francesca? Who's the other babysitter?"

Oh now why did they have to be rude and bring that up?

[sweaterkittensahoy]

hello!! for prompts because i saw the absolute banger of a reply you had to a very pretty very scarred hambone:

hambone/brady? either postwar during the VE day celebration crazyness/quiet moment together

Or!! Prestalag ofc pilot/bombardier goodness where hams just an absolute rat of a man and but hes bradys bombardier damnit nobody touch him

Okay, so I don't prefer to write stalag fic, but this image hit me like a bus, so I am making an exception:

Ham's face and neck hurt when it gets cold. There's no way to wrap himself up enough that it doesn't hurt. The scar on his neck throbs, but it's not that bad. The one his face, it aches every moment of every day, throbbing and sparking and even sometimes giving Hambone a twitch at the corner of his mouth. The Stalag doctor said he probably had nerve damage, couldn't guess if the pain will ever stop or get better.

Most days, Hambone just deals with it. They've all got aches and pains. He's not special. But some days, when the pain really gets high, that's when the twitch starts, and Hambone can't forget for a second that he's scarred. In the Stalag, he's nowhere near the worst off, but he wonders what he'll do after they're out. Who wants to be around a guy with a scar like this and a twitch to match?

Brady climbs in next to Ham, bringing his blanket with him. "Come here," he says.

"Fuck off," Hambone hisses.

"Come fucking here," Brady repeats. He's leaned against the wall, arm lifted so Ham can curl in.

Hambone sighs and scoots over, resting his unmarked cheek against Brady's shoulder as Brady tucks both their blankets around them.

Brady runs his fingers through Hambone's hair, then slips his hand lower, brushing his thumb back and forth over the scar on Hambone's cheek. He digs in a little by Hambone's ear, pushing down hard until he touches the corner of Hambone's mouth, then sweeps him thumb up nice and soft from Hambone's mouth to his ear.

"You're alive, Ham," Brady murmurs, repeating his little massage on Ham's scar. It helps. Relaxes the tissue and makes the twitch settle. Diffuses the pain to some extent, which makes it easier to deal with. "You're alive, and I'm glad about that every goddamn day. I know you don't like the scars, but I do. Because as long as I can see them, you're alive."

Hambone tucks in closer, slipping an arm around Brady's middle. He's thinner than ever, same as the rest of them. That he has the energy to take care of Hambone seems impossible. "What am I gonna do when we're out of here?" he asks. "I know my face wasn't great before, but now--"

"Hush," Brady says. "You know what you're gonna do. You're gonna get a haircut and a good shave, and then you're gonna put on a brand new, clean as can be uniform, and you're coming home with me and charming the whole fucking family. And if your scar hurts everyday, I'll do this everyday. Okay?"

Hambone hates that he needs the reassurance, but it's cold and he hurts, and they're hungry, and the war just keeps going and going. "Maybe I'll grow a beard," he says to make Brady laugh.

"You promised you wouldn't until I could," Brady says. "And I don't think I ever will."

"The sacrifices I make for you," Hambone says, and he shifts his mouth to kiss Brady's thumb as it touches the corner of his mouth again.

"We're getting out of here," Brady says. He tilts Hambone's head up so he can kiss his forehead. "And we're going to live our best life, you and me. And I will kiss your scars three times a day and tell you I'm glad you have them."

Hambone closes his eyes and breathes deeply as Brady works his scar again. "Okay," he says. "That sounds doable."

[walmart-miku]

Ok finished The Boy and The Heron. And I have Thoughts.

THE THEMES!!!! THE SYMBOLISM!!!! THE INEVITABLE MARCH OF TIME BUT WE STILL GO ON. THE "IMPERFECT WORLD TAINTED WITH MALICE" "WORLD FULL OF CHAOS AND FIRE" "PURE VS IMPURE" AHHHHHHHHH

ITS ABOUT GRIEF!!! ITS ABOUT HIW MAHITO LEARNS TO NAVIGATE A WORLD WITHOUT HIS MOTHER AND HIM ACCEPTING NATSUKO AS HIS MOTHER AND THE WAY ITS DONE IS SO GRACEFUL. He starts completely impartial to her. Besides the fact that Natsuko looks like his mother, Mahito is polite but cold to her. And then Natsuko gets "taken". And Mahito decides to go save her, not for himself but for his FATHER!!! (On a side note here, I love how good of a father Mahito has. He's really trying his best here, he dropped everything to look for them and was 110% ready to fight God.) And once Mahito finally gets to her its this beautiful scene of him calling out to her for her to come home with him and hee refusing and Mahito going from calling out "NATSUKO" to "MOTHER"!!!! HE CAN'T AFFORD TO LOSE ANOTHER MOTHER AND HE MIGHT HAVE FAILED THE FIRST TIME BUT HE WON'T THIS TIME AND AHHHHH!!!!

My brain will not shut up about the one scene where the heron tells Mahito that he can't fix the hole that Mahito made in his beak that's preventing him from transforming. It has to be the one who did the damage that fixes it. It has to be Mahito who fixes it. Do you see where I'm going here. How, as hard as you try, damage has been done and sometimes the damage has to be repaired by the cause.

THE REAL WORLD ATTACHMENT THAT HAYAO MIYAZAKI HAS TO THIS FILM. HE IS THE GREAT GRAND UNCLE. He created this beautiful empire of movies and has left a legacy and the movie ends with the empire/world falling l, with the potential successor turning away from the world and choosing his own path. THE MOVIE IS A LOVE LETTER TO HIS SON AND HOLY SHIT IM NOT GOING TO BE NORMAL ABOUT THIS FACT.

Little guys. A ghibli movie is not a ghibli movie until it has silly little guys. For this one we got the water water. LOOK AT THEM!!!! I WOULD DIE FOR THEM. I cried when they got eaten and then I cried some more when the old pelican died talking to Mahito. Because they didn't ask for this life where they eat the water water. But they have no choice. And their young don't know how to fly anymore.

Kiriko. Holy fucking shit Kiriko. She's managed to fulfill both the grandma and cool lesbian aunt roles in The Boy and The Heron and holy shit. First time I saw her butch form I. Also the little wood carvings to protect. How they're people from Mahitos world. How Mahito has so many people that care about him. (Look at her she's so)

Himi (Mahito's mother) ISNT AFRAID OF FIRE (how she dies) BECAUSE WHY BE AFRAID OF DEATH? WHY FEAR THE UNKNOWN AND THE END? WHY FEAR THE VERY THING THAT YOU CONTROLLED?

Mahito is super duper fucking unhinged (affectionate). The hospital is on fire, he runs against the crowd to get to his mother. The kids at his new school make fun of him. Next scene has no audio but some cheerful music and is of just Mahito fucking throwing hands. And then Mahito is still angry and full of malice afterwards that he just. Takes a rock and bangs it against his head. Mahito meets the grey heron and he decides that he's gonna kill it. He makes his won bow and arrow. He uses the herons own feather for the arrow. He also reflects his name perfectly. "Mahito" meaning "sincere one". He just says whatever the fuck he's thinking. He does not pull punches.

The book. "How Do You Live?" I Will Be Thinking About This Book So Much. (She left him a book, she left him a book about how to live because she knew that she wouldn't be there to watch him learn how to live but she still wanted to teach him how to live even if it was just beyond the grave through a book)

[enniewritesathing]

memory management (trepidation)

⏮️Previous || (📚Previous Stories) || Beginning ▶️

"̷A̢̡͆A̷̛̽̈́́Ą̶̅ͧ̕Ą̓̔͘͡Hͦͫ͢͢͏H̸̢̀H͝H̴͇͜H̶̡̰͍̀H̶̸̬̝̕H͙̘͜͞͝!̡͎̼̀͠"҉̯́

Thomas: "Holy shit, he just keeps going; it's been an hour! Mark, are you seein' this shit? Glad I'm not in there!"

Mark: "He's not going to last much longer."

(Thomas gawks at the comment. This isn't the Mark he knows. This one's too serious, too glum.) "Woah, now hang on. What's going on with you?"

Mark: "Nothing."

Thomas: "You've been acting funny lately. You're not having second thoughts or anything like that, are you?"

(Mark sighs.) "They're killing him and I just... I have a bad feeling I can't shake. I can't explain it right now."

Thomas: (nervously) "Ooo-kay... I mean, what's going to happen is looking like this guy's gonna die any moment now. Unless you know something I don't know, and if you do, please tell me."

(Mark turns away.) "It's fine, Tom. Really."

Thomas: "You should probably go sit down, yeah? Don't worry, I'll keep watch."

(Mark mutters something under his breath about putting in his resignation. Thomas looks on. Honestly, he should be glad he's not in there with the rest; they've got it handled. It's nice and safe over here. Less noisy... but now, he's feeling uneasy. Not a feeling one should have when they're the first line of defense...)

Jordan: "Kickout at three minutes; showing PVCs. Still close to initial vitals."

"̛A̧̡͛H̴̡̄H̵̎͠H҉H͏̸̲!͏̛̼"͏̳͘

Bernard: "Good night, how can he be still screaming like this? Fuck, I'm starting to get tired holding him down like this!"

(Charles pays no mind to Bernard's cursing and John's screams of pain, as he's known to do. Instead, there's a growing problem that's only going to get worse.)

(John's HF is deteriorating faster than he anticipated; there's clear damage done to his heart from fighting the toxins for an extended time. Not only that, his heart rate has not dropped down past 100 except for the times of initial injections. Even then, it doesn't last long.

That damn werewolf is killing himself in effort to live. How ironic.

Charles can see the organ beginning to struggle. At this rate, even if they stop, there's no telling if John would live long after even with youth on his side.)

(Charles looks up at Daniel from beneath his eyes. He can't admit the fact that he was right in his assumption. If he hasn't by now, he's certainly putting two and two together. There has to be something can do to keep this going.

Ah. He has an idea. A vote. Yes.)

(Jordan will most likely side with Daniel on the account that they're partners... however, they have the ability to ground Daniel better than anyone else and they can be persuasive when they want to. For now, they're a wild card.)

(Bernard on the other hand... now, there's someone who will stand their ground, even if he appears to be neutral. He's not one to mince his words either. He is dedicated and will see this through... as he's complaining all the way.

It does help that Bernard and Daniel are often passionate on their disagreements.)

(John's cries of pain is strangled.)

Daniel: "Charles, this isn't working."

Bernard: "Maybe if you would just shut up for a goddamn minute and let wolf boy tire himself out or would you rather just up and go?"

Daniel: "What did you say?"

// Next ⏭️