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#and I am so happy to work on this fic again

nerdieforpedro · 2 days

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Weekend Update 05/19/2024

Three weeks in a row. I should play the lottery, I might hit for some big money!

Nerdie, please. We think it’s fine that you play the lottery, but have you done much this week?

I will have you know, that I worked three 12 hour shifts in a row, one of which I was the charge nurse. Something I’ve never done before and only had a 4 hour class once. The person that was supposed to be training me was not there so I just did trial by fire. I also worked this weekend.

Though the highlight of the week was Friday night!

What? You had a hot date? Good for you!

Huh? This is Nerdie you’re talking about, no. Not at all what happened. I got to see Hozier live in a concert! It was wonderful! I might still be singing all the songs, have played them for my coworkers and that one guy whose room I was in for 30 minutes getting him cleaned up and bed changed should know a fair bit of “Almost (Sweet Music)” and “Something New.” I think I also had a brunch with my family this week somewhere in there.

We have so many questions…did that man even know what you were singing? Is he now a fan? How was brunch? How did you even find out about the concert? Why wasn’t that the first thing you said?

Sometimes you gotta bury the lead. Brunch was with mama Nerdie and two of Nerdie’s brothers. I have three total. I’m the only girl. The concert was magical, I’m trying to figure out something for September but it’s likely sold out. I think I really lucked out last Friday.

Nerdie, do you have anything fanfic related? We’re happy to know you’re doing well. We wonder sometimes, but you know, this is Tumblr.

This week will be a bit different. I did a lot of reading last week but this week, I didn’t read much of anything except beta reading for a couple people. So Nerdie will highlight some series she thinks you should peek at:

Symphony by @maggiemayhemnj (A wonderful series featuring Joel - who is having a moment with his new hair by the way. I did notice, how could one not? Has Joel and a female OFC in post outbreak Jackson.) Fun fact - one of my patients called me symphony so it’s going to be one of my many aliases now.

If Wishes Came True by @schnarfer (A Dieter Bravo trilogy. Our beloved trash panda is many things and has many expressions, some not so great. Can it turn into something worthwhile?)

Headshots by @secretelephanttattoo (Marcus Pike - being the sweet man that he is. The OFC is a photographer. Love blooms. It will give you warm fuzzies and you’ll sniffle. It’s totally fine to do so.)

Bloody Kisses by @perotovar (Shane Morrissey and Tim rockford are the combo I was not aware I needed and now I think about them. The longing, the realization, the understanding, the build up, and the growing pains. Just read it and you’ll get it.)

IRL by @grogusmum (A sweet Javi G fic. You and Javi have been chatting about your shared interest in movies and sparks fly. So much so that you fly to see him in person. How does that go? Read and find out.)

These are five series I’ve read, loved and will read again because I enjoy them. I hope you all do too.

I believe I did post a Dieter one shot for the Dieter Bravo Brain Rot May challenge about aliens.

Also @fhatbhabiee back! 💖💖

I was tagged by people for WIP Wednesday through Saturday so I’ll do something from my not titled Pero x Dragon fic (look - it was a thought I had and it morphed into this but it’s dialogue):

Darkness is beginning to take him as is the cold. Pero cannot feel his limbs nor tell if he’s moving them. “Hmmpf, you care nothing of your life? Just to let it slip away like this. You appeared to be a warrior of some sort. Do all human warriors lay on their belly and wait for their final breath? Such a pity.” This voice, such torture before death to be mocked like this, couldn’t he have died in battle? “I’m already in hell only hearing this voice before I die. Goddammit.” The mercenary laments. “Are all humans fools like this? Why will you not heed my words? I am not trying to reach you for simple vexation.” “Stop with your flowery words then. Say what you actually need. I’m not going to listen to you the entire time before I leave this earth.”

Pero is the type to curse and argue with demons, angels, monsters and Gods if it means he has the last word. I stand by this. Contrary to what this conversation reads like, Pero does not die. His fate could be worse than death, we’ll have to see. 👀

The Peeps who maybe tagged me? @tinytinymenace @connectioneverywhere @magpiepills @604to647 @djarinmuse

@megamindsecretlair and @for-a-longlongtime There are either people I missed or people who didn't tag me. My bad either way. 🤣

I’ve also been toying with which series between my Marcus therapy series and my sweet Javi P series to start posting on Tumblr. I’m not sure which one. Everyone one’s welcome to ask me questions about any of these WIPs, just know I may not stop talking about them like most fic writers.

I think I do dialogue well in my fics, and wacky ideas, but I could use work on world building, smut, descriptions and other things. I think. Who knows, I'm just going to keep wiring and we'll see what happens.

Stay safe and hydrated everyone!

Love Nerdie!

#weekend update #fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #dieter bravo #joel miller #pero tovar #marcus pike #javier pena narcos #javier gutierrez #tim rockford #shane morrissey

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rax-writes · 5 hours

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↬ comfort

Rolan x Reader

Warnings: None, just pure fluff. It's my good bitch @drizztdohurtin's birthday today, so I wanted to write a comfort fic that she'd been wanting. Happy birthday, Serena!!

There were not merely one or two negative components of the day. It started with poor sleep the night before, an all-day headache, breakfast going awry, intermittent cramping and a lower back ache from your monthly cycle starting, multiple aggravating customers at Sorcerous Sundries, and finally, spilling wine on a book you’d been engrossed in after dinner. All in all, it was a very unpleasant day, and although you tried your best to conceal your negativity, your husband noticed.

Rolan always noticed.

He watched you attentively as you drug your feet across the floor of your bedroom, getting ready for bed much more slowly than usual, a dejected look upon your face. As you began to approach the bed to lie down, Rolan asked, “What’s wrong, my love?”

In lieu of a proper response, you merely climbed into bed and laid right on top of him, and he was quick to wrap his arms around you. Rolan placed a gentle kiss to the top of your head, then one hand began alternating between lightly trailing his nails all over your back, to rubbing soothing circles there. He was silent for several minutes, letting you relax against him for some time. Eventually, however, he repeated his question, in an even gentler tone than before.

“Just a bad day,” you mumbled against his chest, relishing in his warmth.

“How can I help?” Rolan asked softly.

“Would you rub my back for a bit?”

“Of course. Lay down on your front here beside me, darling.”

You did as he bade you, and although you loathed leaving the comfort of his chest, you were not absent from his warmth for long, as he made quick work of pushing your sleep shirt up and rubbing circles with his palms. Rolan then retrieved the massage oil from the nightstand and used that on you, focusing on your lower back, clearly remembering that your lower back usually gives you the most trouble.

After an unknown amount of time, you were on the verge of falling asleep, so you quietly let Rolan know that you wished to cuddle him again. Rolan then resumed his previous position of laying on his back and opening his arms to you. The massage oil had been used up, so his hands were clean when he wrapped his arms around you and began lightly scratching the bare skin of your back, extremely mindful of avoiding adding too much pressure, lest his nails harm you. His tail wrapped around your calf affectionately, and he occasionally pressed kisses to your forehead, temples, and the top of your head. The warmth of his abdomen against yours was doing wonders to soothe your cramps, and when you wrapped your arms around him, he – seemingly unknowingly – began to purr faintly. It made you smile, and you pressed a kiss to his bare chest.

“I love you.”

“And I love you. More than you will ever know,” Rolan vowed, placing a finger under your chin to tilt your head up so he could kiss you. “You are the most enchanting sight I have ever laid eyes on. Nothing could ever compare to you, both in beauty and in brains…. Well, except myself, of course.”

You snorted, and you could practically hear him smiling in response.

“I am endlessly grateful that you agreed to marry me – although I will never truly understand what I have done to deserve such good fortune.”

Smiling, you kissed him again, before laying your head back down on his chest. You were already on the cusp of sleep when you murmured, “I love you, you sap.”

“And I love you, darling.”

The blissful blackness of sleep encompassed you shortly after, and you fell asleep atop your husband, as comfortable and cozy as you could ever be.

----------

Thank you to my bestie @sscamanderr for beta reading ♥

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beneathashadytree · 3 days

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IMPORTANT POST!!

Hi guys.

I think I will have to close my requests unless something changes. I normally wouldn’t do this when I LOVE receiving requests from you guys, but I will have to do this because people keep repetitively ignoring my rules for requesting, despite the link to them being in my pinned post.

I understand that many of you guys are new followers, and I’m so happy to have you here! But it’s getting very exhausting having to reblog my rules for requesting practically every week because people just don’t bother looking at them before sending in a request.

My rules aren’t there to be mean. They’re there to protect my peace and create a safe space for me online, just as I hope I’m helping you guys create for yourselves. In fact, most of my rules are there PRECISELY to make it a safe space for everyone.

My most ignored rules are these two:

1- No gender of the reader is specified (hence why I only use they/them pronouns in a gender-neutral manner)

2- No physical appearance or details are specified (anatomy, race, size, shape, sexuality, religion, beliefs, etc)

Even after I reiterated my rules twice last night, and reminded everyone that last night’s SMAU was a one-time thing because I’m simply horrible at saying no, within less than 30 minutes of posting about that I’d already received 3 requests completely disregarding my rules and going against them.

My reasoning for both is that I am an extremely underrepresented POC with a unique identity—in fact, I can’t think of a single piece of media that represents me in all the aforementioned categories. This caused me to understand that so, so, so many people will be inevitably excluded if I specified anything about the reader. And if I did, I would have to make individual posts for every single possibility under the sun, and there would be 0 plot or substance in these posts.

And that’s why I’m saying it again: please always assume that you are ALWAYS represented in my works. It doesn’t matter what you look like or what you identify as, my fics/SMAUs are all made with you in mind. I rethink everything I write (eg: hair length/type, clothes by only metioning cloth materials, and blushing that differs in appearance—if it shows at all—from one skin color to the next) and make them as vague as humanly possible to make sure that they’d be fitting for EVERYONE. You are never, ever meant to be excluded in this fandom. We’re all so diverse and different from each other, that it would be impossible to cater to every single person individually and not miss someone along the way. I would never wish that feeling of exclusion on ANYONE.

I keep reblogging my rules because I would hate to embarrass anyone by calling them out individually. But it’s upsetting feeling that people are just ignoring what makes me comfortable and what I feel would make my blog the safest place possible. So now it seems that I will have to close my requests until I can make sure that everyone has read my rules and understood precisely why they’re there.

This is never out of malicious intent, but out of an insistence that I make everyone feel welcomed while creating more content for everyone in the fandom to consume. I would love to be friends with everyone in the fandom, and to always talk to you guys!! But I hope you understand where I’m coming from and looking at it from everyone’s respective POVs when reading my works.

I hope everyone is doing well and that you’re all safe, happy, and loved💗💗💗

#maya talks

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alvojake · 4 hours

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I'm about to get reeeaaalllll sappy here for a few moments

when I first got onto tumblr, my intent was to just read the amazing fics that everyone had written because I love reading and enjoy others' writing as a fellow writer. I was at a point in my life where I felt like all of my favorite hobbies weren't making me happy anymore, so I backed off of writing for a very long time. I felt as if everything I wrote was just garbage and it just didn't feel right sharing it with the world, so I just stopped, it was truly heartbreaking because I love write with a passion, it had always been an outlet for me during my rough childhood. however, reading so many good fics here on tumblr from writers that I now consider my friends/moots (@yeonzzzn @enha-stars @simpjaes @minhosimthings @pprodsuga @ja3yun) helped me open my heart up to writing again, and for that, I am truly thankful <3

I had started writing not even a month after I had lost my cousin unexpectedly; it was such a hard and dark time for both me and my family that I just needed an escape before I spiraled into the deep end. never in my wildest dreams did I think that I would be where I am now, three months into writing and talking to such amazing people with almost 2k followers. if you had told that broken girl in the hospital that she would find some light in the dark again, this is where she is now; she would just look at you like you had grown three heads. there are truly no words to express how grateful I am to everyone here who has helped me see that light again.

even during a rough patch in the beginning when I had another person copy one of my works, I was truly at a loss for words because not only did they copy my work, but theirs had far more notes and comments on it than mine and it was truly disheartening and I second guessed if I would be able to sort it all out, but during all of this I had aeri to back me up (@heeslut4life). now, I'm not gonna lie. I'm not entirely sure I would have made it past that if it wasn't for her, so thank you, aeri, truly.

but before I go on too much longer and gross everyone out, I just wanted to say that I am thankful for everyone here, moots and followers alike. you guys are truly amazing, and I love you all so dearly <33

tagging all of my moots/friends (that weren't tagged above) because you all are truly dear and near to my heart, and I love you all so so so so much: @karinasbaby @jaylaxies @jaeyunluvr @ikeuverse @wondipity @fakeuwus @j4yluvr @moon7jay (we miss you xyn </3) @wonryllis @wonlvkay @pockettwinzz @antonitty @jjunie-0 @hoondrop @hxxsxxng @seunghancore @dollyyun

#↳˳;; ❝ 𝓴𝓪𝔂𝓼 𝓫𝓪𝓫𝓫𝓵𝓮𝓼 ᵕ̈೫˚∗#*ೃ༄ 𝓶𝔂 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓼˚◞♡ ⃗#i love you guys #and yall deserve nothing but happiness in life #<333

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ekwolfwriter-blog · 2 days

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WIP Zutara Challenge: Rumors

Rumor has it! Rumor has it! Lolol, anytime I hear of Rumors, that song appears in my head.

But honestly, this one has a lot of potential. Especially as there is a lot of ways you can do rumors. Like positive, negative, angsty ones that lead to miscommunications, or possible rumors for happiness.

I think for this one, I want to do a positive rumor.

So this is from an old fic that I want to work on, and maybe post, but it is a lot, so I am going to try and condense it:

Katara wakes up to many many meetings on her plate and has been trying her best to get through the day so that she can meet with Zuko. But there is a rumor in the palace that the Fire Lord has been sneaking around lately. Spending late nights coming in and out and running himself rugged.

Katara was able to ignore the rumors because she knows he has been out and about. (maybe some blue spirit stuff) but she knew he was a busy man. But then the rumors get to her that maybe he is meeting with someone else. And it gets her worried because he also seems to be too busy to meet with her.

Katara tries to get answers from Sokka, that she saw Zuko was talking to - but no answer. She also tries Aang and Suki - both with half answers or not so clear message.

So Katara finally gets to meet with Zuko to confront him, but he has a special surprise. And he takes her to the garden and proposes with a crown he had been working on to make just for her. And it ends with her accepting the crown and happy to be married to Zuko. Starting some new rumors as well.

Hopefully, I can post again with some more, but hope you like this idea

#zutara #zutara fanfiction #writing #zutara month 2024

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suddencolds · 1 month

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Atypical Occurrence [1/?]

Happy birthday to my dear friend, @caughtintherain!! I wanted to give you some Vincent suffering to chew on for the occasion, so please take this fic (or, first part of a fic) as a gift <3

this is an OC fic - here is a list of everything I’ve written for these two! chronologically, this fic takes place a month or so after the last installment leaves off :)

Summary: Vincent shows up late to a meeting. It just goes downhill from there. (ft. fake dating, the flu, a house visit)

—

Vincent is late.

Yves tries not to stare at the empty seat across from him. The meeting—their first meeting of the day—started five minutes ago. If there’s anything Yves knows, it’s that Vincent always comes in early.

In stumbles Cara, handling a morning coffee with probably more espresso shots than anyone should have at 8am. Then Laurent, briefcase in one hand, paging through a folder of files in his other. Then Angelie, Isaac, Garrett, Ray, Sienna. Then they get started, and Yves turns his attention towards the graphs projected onscreen at the front of the room, and tries very hard not to think about Vincent.

It’s five minutes later that the door swings open, near-silent.

Sienna—who’s presenting—stops, for a moment, to look back at Vincent from where he’s standing in the doorway, which means that of course, everyone looks.

Cara turns around in her seat, raising an eyebrow. Angelie frowns at him.

“Sorry I’m late,” Vincent says, quietly. “It won’t happen again.”

Isaac shrugs. Angelie looks a little concerned, but she turns back to her work, anyways. Sienna resumes her presentation. All in all, it’s nothing—or it should be nothing. Probably traffic, on the way here; a particularly unlucky commute. An unlikely occurrence, but—to anyone else—not anything worth dwelling over.

It might be a sufficient explanation, if Yves didn’t know better.

Vincent takes care to close the door quietly behind him, then heads over to the only open seat, across from Yves. He unzips his briefcase, quietly, unobtrusively, and takes out his laptop. Yves tries to focus on what Sienna is saying—she’s giving a review of a client’s current investment strategies; he’d reviewed her work on this just a couple days ago.

Vincent asks good questions throughout—he always has a good sense of what areas still lack clarity, Yves has found. Today is no exception. He takes part in the meeting with such calculated precision that Yves almost misses it.

Almost misses: the slight stiffness to his shoulders, as if it’s taking more than the usual amount of effort to keep himself upright. The way in which he clears his throat before speaking, like it might actually hurt. The way he rests his head on one hand, halfway into the meeting—as if even now, barely forty minutes into the workday, he’s already exhausted.

It’s subtle enough to go unnoticed, subtle enough that Yves wonders if he’s just reading too much into it—if, perhaps, Vincent is fine, after all.

—

He doesn’t see Vincent again until lunch.

Or, more accurately, he doesn’t see Vincent again until he’s headed down for lunch with Cara and Laurent. Vincent is already on his way out of the cafeteria, a takeout container in hand.

“You’re not going to eat here?” Yves asks.

Vincent doesn’t look at him. “I have some work to get done at my desk,” he says. He clears his throat again, like it’s irritating him.

“Okay,” Yves says. Vincent turns to leave, and Yves thinks of a hundred ways in which he could possibly prolong this conversation, and then decides against it. Vincent is already so busy.

“You look tired,” he settles on, instead.

He expects Vincent to dismiss this, to reassure him that it isn’t true. But Vincent looks up at him at last, blinking, as if he’s surprised that Yves noticed at all. His eyes are a little dark-rimmed underneath his glasses.

He doesn’t deny it, which is as much of a confirmation as Yves needs.

“The sooner I can get this work done, the sooner I can go home,” he says. Yves supposes he can’t argue with that.

“I guess I’ll see you around, then,” Yves says, even though he wants to say more, even though he feels like there’s more that he should be saying. “Don’t work too hard.”

Vincent nods, at this, and resumes walking.

—

Yves is probably overthinking it. There isn’t anything concrete, really, to justify his concern.

Vincent’s lateness to the meeting could just as easily be the consequence of an alarm he’d forgotten to set, his exhaustion just as easily a side effect—of recent late nights in the office, of arbitrary changes to the projects he’s on, of last-minute demands from clients.

The next time he sees Vincent is at the end of the work day. Yves always takes the elevators on the north end of the building—they’re ones that lead directly out into the parking garage. When he gets out to the hallway, Vincent is already standing there, waiting for the elevator.

Yves watches Vincent stiffen, slightly. Watches him raise one hand up to his face to shudder into it with a harsh, “HHihH’iKKTSh-hUH!”

A thin tremor runs through the line of his shoulders, as if he’s too cold, even though the office air conditioning is no colder than usual. His hand, cupped to his face, remains there for a moment more before he lowers it.

He sniffles, then, rummaging through his pocket for—something. When he doesn’t find it, he just frowns a little, sniffling again.

“Bless you,” Yves says.

“Yves,” Vincent says, his shoulders stiffening a little. He clears his throat, turning around so that he can address Yves properly.

It’s only a few seconds later that he’s turning sharply away, tenting both hands over his nose and mouth for—

“Hh-! hHiH—HIHh’DZSSschh-uhh! snf-!”

“Bless you again.”

Vincent sighs. “Don’t bother.” He really looks exhausted, Yves realizes. During their brief interaction at lunch, he’d already sensed as much, but the harsh white glare of the bright corporate lighting only makes it more evident.

Vincent looks a little paler than usual, if only slightly, and there’s a slight flush that spreads itself over his cheekbones. He looks—well, nearly as put together as always, distilled only by the slight crookedness of his tie, as if it’s been on too tight; the near-invisible sheen of sweat over his forehead. The slight redness to the bridge of his nose, the slight shiver to his hand as he reaches up to adjust his collar.

Yves frowns, taking this all in. “You look kind of…”

“Terrible?” Vincent finishes for him.

Yves winces. “...Well, terrible is a strong word. I was going to say, you look like you could use some sleep.”

“I’m… feeling a little off,” Vincent says, staring straight ahead, as if it’s not an admission at all. But Yves suspects, from the way he avoids eye contact, that perhaps it was something he was intending on keeping private. “You should keep your distance.”

The elevator dings. The sliding doors part, and he steps inside.

“First floor?” Yves asks, hesitating next to the panel of buttons.

“Yes,” Vincent says. Then, quietly: “Thanks.”

“You know, now that busy season is over, the world is not going to end if you take a sick day,” Yves tells him. “Even if you do like, twice the amount of work as everyone else on the team, if you needed to call out, I’m sure something could be arranged.”

Vincent smiles at him, a little wryly. “I must look pretty bad if you’re saying this to me.”

“Yes, I was lying,” Yves says. “Clearly, you look terrible.”

It isn’t true at all—even here, even like this, Vincent doesn’t look terrible, not even in the least. But Vincent still smiles, at this—a tired smile.

The elevator doors slide open.

“Text me if you need anything,” Yves says, impulsively. “Seriously. Tissues, soup, medicine—whatever. It’s not far of a drive.”

“That’s very considerate of you,” Vincent says. “I will see you tomorrow.” And then he steps out of the elevator, and Yves is left with an inexplicable sinking feeling in his stomach. As far as he knows, it has no place there. Obviously, Vincent can take care of himself. Obviously, Vincent can handle a cold. Yves has nothing to be concerned about.

—

The next day is rainy—a constant, torrential downpour, which makes his commute to work take almost twice as long as it usually does. It wouldn’t be spring here, Yves supposes, without dreary weather like this.

Back in uni, when he rowed crew, they’d practice out for hours out in the rain. Now that he spends the majority of his day inside, he supposes he can’t complain. The shelter of the office building is a reprieve.

Vincent doesn’t show up.

“I think he’s out sick,” Cara says, when Yves asks. “You know, it’s funny. I don’t think I’ve actually seen him take a sick day before.”

“For how hard he works, he definitely deserves one,” Garrett says.

“He seemed fine yesterday, when I saw him,” Cara says, with a shrug. “Probably came on quickly.” Yves nods.

But that isn’t quite right, is it? Vincent hadn’t seemed fine, had he? Yves thinks back to the things he’d noticed—Vincent, uncharacteristically exhausted during the meeting, though it was clear he’d been just as engaged as usual. Vincent, shivering in the elevator, telling Yves to keep his distance. How poorly had he been feeling already, yesterday? How poorly does he have to be feeling today to have called off of work for it?

He finds some time just before lunch to text.

Y: how are you holding up? Y: yesterday’s offer stands if you need me to bring you anything!

He doesn’t get a response from Vincent, which is a little concerning. He checks his phone halfway through lunch, and then twice more, in between his afternoon meetings, just in case he’s missed a notification.

“Are you expecting a text from someone?” Cara says, looking a little curious.

“Just a friend,” Yves says, which is and isn’t true.

To make a point—to Cara, and possibly to himself—he shuts his phone off. He very pointedly does not look at it again for the remainder of the hour.

It’s not until mid-afternoon that he finally gets a response.

V: Sorry to get back to you so late.

Yves sits upright, fumbling with his phone to get it unlocked. The text bubble pops up again, somewhat intermittently, to show that Vincent is typing.

V: If it’s not too much trouble, there’s a blue folder on my desk labeled 2-A.

Yves blinks at this, a little disbelieving.

Y: you’re asking me to bring you work files? Y: arent you supposed to be resting 🤨 Y: paid sick leave, remember? as in, leave your work at work??

V: I meant to pack them yesterday.

Y: that’s like a genie grants you 3 wishes and you ask for an extra day of assignments Y: terrible waste of a wish if you ask me

V: As a genie, you’re quite judgmental

Y: ok ok Y: as your loyal lamp dweller i’ll be over around 8pm with folder 2-A Y: you need anything else?

V: Nothing else V: You can just leave them outside my door

A beat. Then Vincent sends:

V: Sorry to trouble you

Yves thinks of twenty responses he wants to send to that text. Then, thinking better of himself, he shuts his phone off and gets back to work.

—

It’s a little past seven when he finally checks out of the office.

Outside, the rain hasn’t even begun to let up—it falls, straight and heavy, in large, globular droplets. The streets gleam with water. Yves leaves his umbrella in the trunk, tunes out everything but the static of the rainfall, and drives.

Yves has only ever been to Vincent’s apartment once—to pick him up for the New Years’ party Margot hosted—and even then, Vincent had met him at the door. But he recognizes the unit, nonetheless.

For a moment, he considers leaving the folder of files outside of Vincent’s door and taking his leave.

But it’s windy, and he’s afraid the papers might fly away, torn up by the biting wind, and get lost face down in a puddle somewhere, which would defeat the purpose of him coming here in the first place, and would probably also breach some employee confidentiality policy. So instead, he knocks.

It’s silent for a moment. Rain beats down on the slanted rooftops, a constant thrum.

Yves is about to reach out to knock again, when the door swings open.

There stands Vincent, in a pale blue hoodie and loose-fitting pajama pants, with neat rectangular cuffs.

He looks tired. It’s the first thing Yves registers—the unusual fatigue to his expression, which he can’t quite seem to blink away; the flush high on his cheekbones. The way he holds himself, his shoulders stiff, carefully, defensively; as if despite his exhaustion, there’s a part of him which wishes to appear presentable still.

It’s only a moment later that he’s taking a halting step back, ducking into a hoodie sleeve. Yves catches the shiver of his expression, his eyebrows pulling together, before it crumples, and his head jerks forward with a harsh—

“hHihh’GKkTT—! Hh-!! iHH-’DZZSCHh-uuUh!”

The second sneeze sounds louder and harsher than usual, even muffled into the fabric of his sleeve. It betrays his congestion all at once.

“Bless you,” Yves says.

Vincent emerges, sniffling a little. When he speaks, he sounds a little hoarser than he did yesterday. “I thought I said you - snf-! - could leave them on the front step.”

“You did,” Yves says, glancing down at the folder in his hands. “But it’s windy, and it’s raining. I figured you’d prefer to have your files intact. How are you feeling?”

Vincent blinks at him. He’s leaning heavily against the doorframe, Yves realizes, one hand gripped tightly around the frame, his knuckles white from the pressure, as if it would take him too much effort to stay upright otherwise.

“Alright,” he answers. “Thanks for making the trip here. I… it must’ve taken longer, in the rain.” He squeezes his eyes shut, as if his head hurts, as if the light coming from outside is exacerbating his headache. “If you ever need me to pick something up for you, I owe you.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” Yves says. Despite himself, he reaches up to press his hand against Vincent’s forehead.

The heat under his fingertips is alarming, to say the least. Yves blinks, lowering his hand, and tries to keep the worry out of his voice. “Have you taken your temperature?”

Vincent shakes his head. “I don’t think I have a thermometer.”

“Have you eaten, then?”

Vincent averts his glance, looking sheepish. “I… was planning to stop for groceries, yesterday,” he says. Planning to.

Yves thinks back to the elevator ride yesterday. Vincent had probably already been feeling very unwell, then. And yet, he’d talked with Yves as if nothing was out of the ordinary. I’m feeling a little off, he’d said, as if anything about his current affliction could possibly be characterized as “little.” I will see you tomorrow—as if he had really, genuinely been intending on showing up at work.

“So I take it that there’s nothing in the fridge, either,” Yves says.

“If it’s any consolation, you’ll be pleased to know that I slept,” Vincent says, in lieu of answering.

Then he shivers—the sort of concerning, full-body shiver that is a little concerning, coming from someone who is usually unaffected by the cold—and Yves is immediately reminded that the door they’re speaking through is open.

“Can I come in?” he asks.

“You probably shouldn’t,” Vincent says, before his expression scrunches up, and he’s ducking away with a— “hh—! hHih-II—TSSCHHh-UH! snf-!”, smothered hurriedly into the palm of his hand. He sniffles, emerging with a slight wince. “This came on pretty quickly. It might be the flu.”

“It’s fine,” Yves says. “I got my flu shot in the winter. And anyways, I’ll be careful.”

Vincent is quiet, for a moment. Then, frowning, he says, “I’d feel terrible if you caught this.”

That’s the least of Yves’s worries—he doubts he’s going to catch this. Even if he does, it will just mean a few days off of work. Not the end of the world, by any means. Nothing to warrant the expression on Vincent’s face—Vincent looks upset, as if he’ll really can’t think of anything worse than Yves catching this. Like even the thought of it is worth being upset over.

Yves shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it, seriously.” He pushes past Vincent to step inside and shuts the door behind him. “Here, I’ll set these down on your desk. Where is it?”

“Down the hallway, to the left,” Vincent says.

Yves takes the folder, leaves his shoes at the door, and heads inside.

Vincent’s bedroom is small and organized—it’s the kind of bedroom that’s tastefully minimal, in the sort of unified manner that implies that everything in it has been carefully arranged. There’s a small white desk in the corner, a stack of files arranged neatly next to Vincent’s laptop, its lid halfway to shut. There’s a bookshelf, leaned up against the wall far; the bottom shelf looks to be filled with textbooks; the top shelf lined with books, both in Korean and in English. The walls are painted slate gray, the carpets lining the floorboards picked out to match, and there are pale blue curtains hanging from the windows, pulled tightly shut.

There are signs here, too, of his illness, but they are subtle. A tissue box, nestled between his pillow and the headboard, half empty. A waste bin at the foot of the bed, conveniently in reach. A small bottle of aspirin on the bedside counter; an empty packet of cough drops sitting at the edge of his nightstand.

Yves sets the folder at the end of Vincent’s desk, next to the rest of his files, and turns to face him.

“You’re not going to work on these until you’re feeling better, right?” he asks.

“Only if I can’t sleep,” Vincent says, which Yves supposes is a satisfactory answer. Then he twists away, his eyebrows furrowing, lifting a loosely clenched fist to his face to cough, and cough.

The cough is harsh and grating—his entire frame shudders with the force of it, his breaths shallow and raspy. He really sounds awful. This must have come on quickly, Yves thinks.

If it’s upsetting, seeing Vincent like this, it’s even worse to be standing here, in his room, doing nothing. So—if only to make himself useful, if only to convince himself that there’s something he can do—Yves ducks out into the kitchen.

The pantry is meticulously organized—glasses lined up in neat rows; stacks of bowls sorted by size. He fills a glass with water, shuts the cabinets, and takes it back to the bedroom.

By the time he gets back, Vincent is sitting at the edge of his bed. His glasses are folded neatly, left at the very edge of the countertop.

“Here,” Yves says, crossing the room, holding out the glass for him to take.

“Thanks,” Vincent says, taking it gingerly from him. He takes a small, tentative sip, and then another—his hands are a little shaky, Yves notices. “You - snf-! - should really go.”

“I’m not entirely convinced you’ll be fine on your own,” Yves says.

“Of course I will be,” Vincent says, with all of his usual certainty. He lays down, pulling the covers over his body. “I have been fine on my own for years.”

It’s meant to be reassuring, Yves supposes. But he doesn’t feel reassured in the least.

“Thank you again for bringing me the files,” Vincent says, at last, shutting his eyes.

“You could’ve asked me to get you groceries,” Yves says. “There’s a supermarket not far from here, right? And you’re out of cough drops.” He takes a few steps over, towards the desk in the corner of the room. “These—” He examines the bottle of ibuprofen on the table. “—are expired.”

“Just because you’ve extended this kindness to me,” Vincent tells him, “doesn’t mean I should take advantage of it.”

Yves blinks, a little taken aback. “It’s only groceries. I wouldn’t have minded, really.”

“See,” Vincent says, with a note of—something in his voice. It sounds a bit like resignation. “That’s just the kind of person you are.”

Yves doesn’t know what to say, to that.

Before he can think up a fitting response, Vincent’s breathing evens out. Yves lets himself listen to the shallow, steady cadence of it. Lets himself acknowledge the heavy, painful feeling in his chest for just a moment. Then he shuts the lights off and heads back out into the hallway.

#snz fic #sneeze fic #sneeze kink #snz kink #snz #i wanted to end somewhere more conclusive but i was falling asleep at my keyboard trying to end this so #please take this for now 🙏#my fic #it is very late rn so i am scheduling this for the middle of my work day tomorrow... now i need to run to sleep T.T #i will finish off the latter half of the house visit in the not too distant future!#yvverse #ps caughtintherain if you are reading this ily and i am so grateful to you for letting me consult you abt these two 😭😭 and i hope it's #okay for me to post this as a gift jafkhjfslk ANYWAYS pls read this at your leisure and happy birthday again!!!

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chuu-huahua · 11 months

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guys @downbadforpixels sent me this

and told me “pm + ada karaoke/just dance night because i said so and dazai as the princess and chuuya as the prince except chuuya actually pulls out a ring” and i 100% agree. so here’s SOUKOKU JUST DANCE SHENANIGANS

because yes, kouyou did set them up. she hides a cheeky smile behind the sleeve of her kimono before settling down next to the agency’s doctor, chatting with her amiably while she keeps an eye on dazai and chuuya. they had dragged each other onto the cleared dance floor, elbowing each other while their loud argues could be heard by everyone in the room.

the music starts, drawing their attention away from each other, as they get ready to dance. chuuya seems as if he’s right at home, body moving to the beat and executing the moves flawlessly, while dazai seemed slightly awkward with his bolo tie almost flying over his head. the agency and mafia members watch them silently, sipping their drinks and some of them giggling to each other.

as the music reaches the final chorus, chuuya bends down on one knee and reaches a gloved hand into his pant pocket. dazai teasingly stretches out his left hand, holding it in front of chuuya before turning around to kunikida to laugh. however, a few gasps from the surrounding people make him turn his head back in curiosity, only to come face to face with chuuya who was holding out a ring to him.

dazai’s face is flushed. his lighter complexion makes the blood gathering on his cheeks obvious and he can feel his face and neck heat up as he lets out a quiet “eh?” at the sight before him. the ring reflected the dim lights of the room, letting them bounce against the cool metal surface and reflect on the surfaces of the small diamonds on the band.

chuuya encircles dazai’s hands gently, rubbing a gloved thumb across the inside of his wrist. bringing his knuckles up to his lips, he presses against them slightly, reveling in the way dazai seems to have completely shut down. he raises his brows in a silent question, satisfied when dazai nods his head dazedly.

dazai only snaps out of it when the metal band is smoothly inserted onto his left ring finger, and chuuya stands up to pull dazai down into a proper kiss.

the crowd around them cheers as the music continues to play, but the couple only continues to stare into each others eyes before letting their lips meet each other again.

“... i talked to your dad, go pick out a white dress; it’s a love story, baby, just say yes !”

#lei writes! ଘ(|li.‸.)#guys idk how to write kiss scenes i'm sorry #i am once again pushing my flustered dazai agenda #but yay they got married!!#i had to actually plan out how the scene was gonna work cuz idk how proposals happen #today was the last day with the y4s :(((#also guys i'm planning an x reader fic that's gonna be out soon(?)#it's angst tho :D #ok but married soukoku is so cute #kouyou planned everything i'm so happy #and then after that her wedding with yosano gets planned by skk #and they all live happily ever after :D #bungou stray dogs #bsd #soukoku #dazai #chuuya #kouyou #also yes i'm now in my taylor swift era or smth

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rosyredlipstick · 5 months

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FAR GALAXIES (7/9)

She didn’t answer. Instead, she pulled out her PADD from her coat, slow enough that Nico only slightly twitched. Jason’s transmission was loaded up on the screen—at the bottom, their signature tag was spelled out.

“Guardians of the Galaxy. That supposed to be a joke?”

“More like an aspiration,” Jason said.

Space, the final frontier. Or whatever.

solangelo, 36k

ao3

#solangelo #will solace #space fic #nico di angelo #i have emerged from my writing cave to humbly place this chapter before you before i go into a deep deep deep sleep oh my god im so tired #i have been working on this chap since oct. i am so happy and excited for the future where i never have to look at these words ever again #happy holidays etc i wanted this up before xmas and now i can REST #<3

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bakatenshii · 10 months

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Hiya! I love your writing and ive been following your blog for a couple of years now (2-3 I think) and I just wanted to say how much I appreciate and adore your writing! Thank you so much for all you’ve written! Ive not been on tumblr much the past few months, and I’ve found that many of my favourite writers are leaving and deactivating their accounts, which is such a pity although completely understandable! Tumblr can be a pretty sucky platform for writers unfortunately :/ anyways I just wanted to thank you for your writing, it’s absolutely gorgeous and your style inspirational! I hope you keep writing, on or off tumblr, as you truly have a gorgeous and unique style! Thank you so much for all your contributions and I hope you’re having a lovely day!!

NONNIEEEEE oh my god oh my god hi hello I am going to sob first and foremost so im gonna get all snotty all over this ask wozooqjzlaozo but thank you so much? genuinely genuinely this means more than u can imagine and I aaAAAAA (being off tumblr and on and off writing ((mostly off oop)) really shows via my decline of the eng language clearly HAHAHA I can’t even articulate properly)

THANK U FOR BEING HERE FOR SO LONG?? AND REMEMBERING ME?? AND JUST. IT FEELS LIKE COMING HOME AND THEN SEEING ALL MY OLD FRIENDS AND THE NOSTALGIA IS A LIL NUCLEAR AND IM JUST SO EMOTIONAAAAAAL AAAAAA

Thank YOUUU for being on here and reading and being so so so lovely to me AND ALSO. im gonna go hide in the tags actually but I owe u my life I am kissing all ur fingers nd toes and maybe lips I’m infinitely happy that ur still here after all this time on this platform, I hope u are having the best day (and the best past few years whilst I’ve been mia <333)

#urusai! baka #OH MYGUAIZIAOZOAKZPIAOAOAO #U DONT UNDERSTAND HOW THIS MADE MY DAY MADE MY WEEK MADE MY ??? MONTH #ILYSM GENUINELY SO SO #I CAME TO CRY ABOUT UR LOVELY COMPLIMENTS IN MY TAGS #BECAUSE I COULDNT DO IT OUT IN THE MAIN POST IM #KICKING MY FEET BLUSHING RUNNING LAPS IN MY BEDROOM AND TAKING COLD SHOWERS #thank u so much for just. ur #idek i never know what to say when someone compliments my writing because im simultaneously combusting at the praise and being seen and just #its so !!!!! thank u for recognizing (??? not the right woed for this but) it and im so happy u like it!!!!#I am working on a fic!! 3k in!! it was going strong and then i got distracted by irl axooaz but its a partner fic with rae rae and SHES #BASICALLY DONE HERS SO IM GONNA QORK HARD TO GET BACK INTO MINE #I love writing sm i just waterboard myself with wips a lil hehe #but hopefully i am praying i xan finish smth for once (again finally)#also re: writers leaving— its so sad and i get itttt and I MISS EVEDYONE ON HERE AND TOSAY I ACC JUAT GOT A TIKTOK FROM 2020 HQ AND IT MADE #ME WANT TO CLAW MY FLESH OFF MY BONES AND FEED IT TO A TIME MACHINE SO I CAN LIKE #PERMANENTLY LIVE IN THAT TIMEEEW AAAA ok ok anyways #i love u pls stay and this msg made my heart explode like a supernova #u r near nd dear to my heart everyone from that time is automatically i am latching onto u all #kissing u loving u hoping the past fww yeass have been amazing for u <33333

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seventeendeer · 9 months

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shout-out to the 214k word undertale fanfiction I wrote and published ~7 years ago that still gets kudos on the regular

I want to make art and share it w the world and feel seen and understood, but finishing stuff is hard. if I die before I finish anything else that is fine, however, bc clearly that fanfiction will continue to shine across time and space like an immortal angel stretching on and on until the heat death of the universe

#deerchatter #ive obvs gotten a lot better at writing. but yall wouldn't know that since i never fucking share anything. help me #i can never seem to finish anything ...#recently picked up my fanmade pokémon region project again. have finished 80 mons so far but not a single completed dex entry #which i want to do before sharing ...#i genuinely am so happy my old ut fic got so popular and is still read to this day bc even if i never manage to finish anything else #at least i got to show off smth i made to a lot of people. even if it is no longer my best work.#bleh 3am artistic loneliness. that soul void game did smth to me man

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orchidyoonkook · 6 months

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Saw this today. And I kind of just sat for a moment in shock.

A fic with over 640 THOUSAND words.

A fic with over 84 THOUSAND hits.

And less than 1000 kudos??

Less than 250 comments??

This isn’t it guys. Fic is dying by the looks of these numbers. This author is putting their all into this story and not even 1000 of the 84000 people who opened the work could’ve been bothered to click one button to leave a kudo?

And this isn’t me bitching about me. If you know me you know I never expect likes or comments or reblogs on my work. But when I get them I’m over the moon. I’m showing my friends, my partner, my mom even my grandparents on occasion. I’m ecstatic.

But I don’t need them like other authors might. Like other authors may need them to know to keep going. To know their work is appreciated. To know what they are doing is worth doing and to stick at it.

So remember to be kind today. Leave a kudo. A comment. A reblog with a “I love this” in the tags.

It may not be much to you.

But it is everything to the writer.

#I’ve never felt the need to make one of these posts until I saw this #eighty four thousand people.#eighty four. thousand.#and only 919 of them bothered to let the author know they even liked it.#i just #when the numbers are like mine and small (which I am perfectly happy with so not mistake me)#do* not.#it doesn’t really matter as much to me cuz I don’t expect a huge amount of feedback and again that’s fine. that’s perfect. i love every #person who decided to read and leave a comment or like or reblog or review. like. that’s all I could ever ask for #but soemthing like this!??? that HAS the numbers and the following to be treated like this??#idk I felt the need to say SOMETHING. anything. fic didn’t used to be like this and even tho I say that like every other creator.#remember #I was a LONG TIME lurker before I ever posted something. but I always left a kudo or a comment.#always.#let people know their work is appreciated #yoons ramblings

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