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poorwritingandstalecoffee · 4 months

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don't let me go

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x reader

Summary: Y/n gets a concussion in the field but thinks nothing of the headache and later ends up in the hospital with a worrysick Emily.

Notes:

It’s been a hot minute since I’ve written fanfiction so if I’m rusty, just bear with me okay, and hopefully the burst of inspiration with last long enough me for to get back into the flow of things.

* Part 2 will be the ending probably.

Rating: 16+

Warnings: mentions of dizziness, headache pain, nightmare, and a very sad Emily (not forever though)

Word count: 1,638

It was supposed to be a regular Tuesday. That’s all.

You hadn’t intended any for this. The pain, the darkness, the silent, deadly suspension between life and death. The cold isolation from everything and everyone you loved—from her.

It just was supposed to be a regular fucking Tuesday. Where did it go wrong?

You couldn’t catch your breath; your lungs were on fire and pumping over time from the relentless running, running, running. Sweat matted the hair to your forehead and neck while your ponytail lashed at the wind and your arms and legs muscles screamed from the exertion. You didn’t feel it, though, not with the adrenaline and anger coursing through your bloodstream and the news that a 7-year-old girl’s life was hanging by a thread in a hospital bed and five more lay dead in the morgue because of the motherfucker.

You couldn’t stop. You knew if you did, he would disappear from your radar only to pop up 2-3 years later with the flashing headlines of another murder taunting and screaming at you from a pixelated screen for letting him get away.

So you kept running and running and running. Down street after street, Derek and Emily running perpendicular to you, and the rest of the team split into two cars coming from other directions.

Hotch was giving you orders, and the comms line was buzzing with information from the rest of the team as they tried to predict which direction he would turn next.

But you didn’t hear any of it; it was all white noise, with your surroundings blurring into flashing colors. You were the closest to him. So close you could nearly reach out and touch his shirt collar. So you gritted your teeth into near pain and pushed your tired limbs to go just a little farther, just a little faster.

Your lungs screamed because you hardly had any breath left to give, but you didn’t care—you nearly had him dammit.

Just. A. Little. Farther. And at the last second, without even thinking of it, without feeling a thing… you jumped. Careening toward him, clasping around his torso with an iron grip, you sent both yourself and the unsub flying in a mass of limbs through the street.

Your body smashed against the gravel and rolled with your head slamming into the concrete…but you never let go because you had him dammit. And you didn’t feel a thing.

“Y/n!!”

“Y/n! Hey, wake up!”

You jolted awake and flinched away from the warm hand on your already burning body. You couldn’t see a damn thing in the dark, and the air wasn’t reaching your lungs because part of your exhausted mind thought you were still back there—in the dream that wasn’t a dream but a faster and more truthfully terrifying version of the reality you faced the day before.

The sheets were becoming twisting, confining vines around your legs. You still couldn’t breathe right, and the shadows in your room were morphing into ghouls and demons that only caused the sweat on your body to run cold with quickening fear.

Just as you were making up your mind to run, a light flicked on, and a familiar face came into your hazy vision.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. It’s me, it’s Emily.”

Briefly, you looked at her with trepidation before your mind finally caught up with you, and your crumpled look of fear and confusion relaxed.

“Em.” Sighing, you fell back into your sweat-soaked pillow and closed your eyes while the first breath since waking up eased into your tired lungs.

Emily lightly brushed the matted hair from your forehead and looked at you with concern and solemnity. Because she knew this would come, had learned to expect it not just with you but herself also. After years of fighting the flesh and blood monsters, the imaginary ones would come to take their place until those two could be conquered.

“Deep breaths, angel. That one was rough,” she said while rubbing your arm gently. She would never admit it to you, but it scared her to see you like this.

Your eyes were still closed to try and stop your vision from spinning, but you could hear the soft tremor in her voice. “Hmm, oh, I don’t know. I give it a 4—you pulled me out of it pretty quickly, huh?”

“You still haven’t caught your breath, though, nor opened your eyes.”

At that you did look at her. Slowly, you let your eyes wander over her face: the telltale wrinkle of worry between her brows, the adorable bed hair that she would never stop arguing with you about how it is, in fact, not cute; the soft, flushed cheeks that you can’t help but want to kiss every second of the day; those completely kissable lips that are pressed into a frown; and finally, the endlessly beautiful dark brown eyes that could hold a thousand emotions at once and whose depths you could happily become transfixed by and lost in for eternity.

You looked at her with a familiar comfort and love that is as old as time itself. The kind of love that could cross time and space to reach two people who will continually find one another in every lifetime, in every universe.

“I’m okay, Em. I’m here with you, so I’m okay.” You reached for her hand, kissed her palm, and placed it against your chest so she could feel for herself.

Emily laid back down next to you and let her hand feel the steadying of your heartbeat. Moving her eyes over the plains of your face, she still marveled at how beautiful, strong, and human you were. After nearly two years together, she still was amazed at how much she loved you, at how you could continually make her feel like the most important person in the entire world, at how alive and human you could make her feel after years of feeling numb and cold to the world because of her demons.

“You’re okay. We’re both okay,” she said quietly. Without taking her eyes off of you, she turned off the lamp and pulled you closer to her.

“I’m still sweaty–”

“I don’t care. Let me hold you, please.”

“Okay, Em.”

She could feel you smiling against her neck, and she kissed the top of your head before burying her nose in your hair. Sighing in relief, she let herself be lulled back asleep by your soft breathing, because you were okay.

Right?

Later that morning.

“I still think you should go in—at least to get some stronger painkillers than fucking ibuprofen.”

“Emily, I’m fine,” you sighed in exasperation. You knew her worrying would only increase; it always does for either of you when something like this happens. “I got checked out yesterday, remember? And the headache will pass. It went away yesterday, and it’s going to go away today. Just give the pills time to work.”

You could see your words weren’t getting through to her with the way she was watching you like you would drop dead right in front of her. Her fingers were fidgeting already, and you knew she was fighting with herself not to start biting them.

Grabbing her hand, you rubbed soothing circles into her palm. “If it gets worse, I’ll tell you and will go, kay?”

Emily stared at you for five more seconds, letting the colors of your eyes, the feeling of your hand in hers, and your soft smile ease the stuttering, painful feeling in her chest before giving in. She pulled you back into her embrace, leaned back into the couch with you, and exhaled into your shoulder. “Okay…”

Five, ten, fifteen minutes into the movie that was playing, you could still feel her eyes on you—watching you for any signs of pain or discomfort. And to be honest, you could feel the headache creeping into unbearability and part of you hated both the headache and your body for falling out of your control.

The stabbing pain escalated to explosions across the back of your brain, the characters on the TV blurred in your failing vision, and you could feel the dizziness slowly clouding your senses.

“Alright, fine, let’s go.”

Emily’s breath hitched because you are always an inch more stubborn than she is, and if you're giving in, then it’s real this time, and no matter how many times you get hurt during a case, she will never be ready for it.

Slowly exhaling, she whispered, “I’ll get the keys and let the hospital know we’re coming,” because to say it any louder is like solidifying your pain into reality.

She lightly kissed your forehead and went to the kitchen to call the closest ER. You could hear her talking in the other room, and even that was becoming increasingly unbearable as the headache worsened.

Breathing in unsteady but measured breaths, you slowly stood and walked to the foyer where your shoes were, and just as Emily came out of the kitchen, you glanced up at her, and time slowed.

The explosive headache pain swallowed your mind, and black dots sporadically burst into your vision. You could feel the strength leaving your muscles, the sound of her voice escaping your ears, and for the first time since waking from your nightmare earlier that morning, you were terrified again. Your body felt so weightless and heavy at the same time—like you might fall through the floor or float up into space without a single tether to your life with Emily.

Slowly, you watched your hand limply reach out to her before the growing black dots finally swallowed your vision, and the last thing you saw was the look of terror on Emily’s face as she dropped her phone, screamed something you couldn’t hear, and ran to catch your body before it fell to the floor.

#michelle's works #emily prentiss x reader #criminal minds #emily prentiss #emily prentiss x female reader #emily prentiss x y/n #emily prentiss x you

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burritello3000 · 4 months

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Here’s some TMMT doodles. At first I wanted to draw Donnie with a bulbasaur, but then it spiraled out of control and I went crazy. I tried to make the Bulbasaur’s spots look like pixels. OK HEAR ME OUT I saw that icebreakers commercial where they put a little top hat on the gum and it reminded me of Donnie and I was drawing this so I put it in here. Donnie is so done with me, lol. Let’s just pretend that size difference is a thing for that bottom one. I tried a different brush instead of what I usually use and didn’t completely fill it in. I actually like what I did. It went a lot faster than usual. Anyways, thank you @kaysdenofchaos for my new obsession. I love your turtles ❤️

#TMMT #Doodly doos #TOP HAT! TOP HAT! 🎩#kaysdenofchaos #bulbasaur #pb&j duo

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superblysubpar · 2 months

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Princesses Can Slay Dragons Too:

dad!eddie munson x mom!fem!reader

an Easy Like Sunday Morning story

summary: you're overworked and stressed, Eddie's an oblivious but well meaning husband & dad, and a trip to the cabin with familiar faces might be just what you all needed. | even if a fic is not marked 18+, my blog is

7.7k words (listen, I know it has no business being this long. I worked on it for a year. Idk what happened, okay?)

warnings: please read the new "general warnings" on the masterlist linked above - "reader" has a "name/nickname", mentions of Ronance, mentions of alcohol, mom stress and a little bit of description of some blood/injury and parental panic/ descriptions of shock about it. There is a twinge of "poetic", quick descriptions of smut as well as brief discussion of "unplanned" pregnancies.

This started from an ask last March, which I've since lost (so sorry anon if you're still out there), and it grew and sat and grew some more and then sat some more and now here it is. I've grown very, extremely, emotionally proud and fond of it. Hope ya like it! 💛

Summer, 2004

“Baby, volume,” your voice calls out over the faint music playing, the thrum of wheels against the highway and the wind. Eyes remain shut, but furrowed lines form above your brows when you hear the familiar ding of a coin being grabbed. A palm rests on your thigh, fingers squeeze gently around it as the music of the level starts its loop again.

You need a coffee. Or thirty. Yes, thirty is good.

“Squirt,” his tone full of warning, yet somehow still sounding sweeter than the syrup that clings to all of their fingers and the gray fabric of the old van’s seats.

Despite the early morning breakfast stop at McDonald’s being nearly twenty-four hours ago, and your insistence on packed sandwiches and veggies for lunch, and a stop for a sit down dinner - the stale scent of greasy food feels heavy in the air. Which has your brain cycling through the list that will rid your family of the trip when you reach your final destination - get out of the car, wrangle them into pajamas, teeth brushed, fight about sleeping when it’s already almost morning, clothes into washing machine, air out the car, make the grocery list for the week…

Screw coffee - you need a shower, you need a shot of alcohol, you already need a vacation from your vacation.

A particularly loud grunt and the sound of something hitting or fighting or shooting has you opening your eyes, blinking away the sleep in them to find the dark highway lit by two gold headlights, showing off the yellow lines flashing past the driver’s window. Your mouth parts, ready to be the one to tell them no, like you always are, when he stops you.

He grabs your hand, his thumb soothing over your knuckles as his voice drifts gently into the backseat, “Come on, I don’t wanna take it away…”

It’s endearing, the way he always tries, the way he gives them a couple of chances. Because at this point, you’re ready to take the damn game and chuck it out the window. This level is haunting you, all you’ve heard every second of every day, even when you’re peeing or trying to shower. You’re pretty sure you’re dreaming in the pixelated graphics, the sound effects now accompanying your daily tasks.

A loud sigh falls from the backseat and with it, you’re certain the console is nudged one level lower.

You hate that of all of your children, the one most like him is still awake.

Sure, they’re all little gremlins, heathens, as he likes to call them - little tenacious mini monster versions of him that drive you up the wall but somehow make your chest ache with too much love.

But this one, this one takes the cake every time.

Eddie beats you to it again, the silver of his rings glinting in the green light of the dashboard as he lets go of your hand to reach into the back without looking. Out of the corner of your eye you see his bicep flexing, gently shaking the tiny knee in his big hand as he talks to the road sternly, “Lace. Volume off completely until I say otherwise, or Mario and Luigi are my best friends the rest of the week, capisce?”

“Caposh,” she grumbles, big red chucks swinging up towards the console and back down, her little legs don’t quite touch the ground yet, much to her dismay.

You keep reminding her that she has lots of time to be as big as her siblings, that her ever growing shoe size and the jeans you bought for the upcoming school year (which she’s already complaining are too tight - remember, you need to ask Katie about hand me downs from Liv, or shit, maybe even Grace, this weekend) tell you she is going to keep growing - and fast. Part of you can’t wait, and the other part wishes she’d slow down.

The sound vanishes completely and Eddie’s hand finds its way to your thigh again when you sigh. The part that wishes she’d grow up faster stirs, lit by the flicker of resentment when she listens to him so easily and not you.

Eddie’s fingers run up your thigh, then back down, skin beneath the denim buzzing as he squeezes softly and clears his throat.

“I think someone deserves an apology though, don’t you? ‘Cause I believe I heard you were asked already…”

“I’m sorry,” she squeaks and you can’t help but look over your shoulder at her when she does.

For once, her eyes are on you and not the game, big and brown - just like his - and truly sorry. You smile softly as her brows furrow under bangs that just refuse to stay straight. She blows them away with a big huff as she whines, “It’s just so hard.”

Your head nods, temple resting on the seat as you murmur, “Yeah, I know. Thank you for turning the volume off when your dad asked though, I really appreciate it.”

Eddie swallows, his finger aimlessly circles over the skin above your knee as he blinks at the road.

He’s always amazed when you do that.

Far more patient than anyone deserves, far more understanding than any of them appreciate, and much too good to him. For him. Especially with how things have been lately.

Eddie knew it’d been a little rough, with him being gone so much and the kids’ schedules just growing more cramped as they got older - summer was no longer the lazy days of kids riding around on their bikes and doing squat. It was full of sports and clubs, friends, all requiring a constant need to be dropped off, picked up, carted too and fro on seemingly hellbent on never lining up schedules. He’d been trying, he really had, to help you balance it all, but he had tunnel vision for things at work, he was so focused on his own shit he didn’t realize how much everything was affecting you.

How much being alone with three kids, two goldfish (scratch that, one, but still), a dog, and a house that seemed to have endless tasks to keep it running was breaking you.

He finds your hand and pulls interlaced fingers to his lips, kissing your knuckles, your wrist, your palm, all while keeping his eyes on the road. You close yours again, trying to focus on the soft press of his lips to your skin and not the reason why he’s doing it.

You know he’s thinking about last weekend.

On Friday, Caroline had complained that you only sewed new straps on her ballet slippers instead of getting new ones altogether. She was practically in tears because all the other girls in class had new leotards, new skirts, and new shoes and you promised you’d figure something out. She retreated with red cheeks and a slam of the bedroom door, stereo blaring behind it, the cusp of terrible teenage years promising to be worse than the twos.

After that, Michael shoved you off when you tried to hug him as you dropped him at the school for a baseball practice with an exasperated, “God, mom, stop!” - nine was grown up and he was much too cool to be a momma’s boy anymore apparently.

And to top it all off, Lacey had been following you around the house, that stupid game dinging and singing everywhere you went, one of the fish died and Lacey asked when it was coming back, and you somehow burnt the hamburger helper for dinner.

When Eddie got home, he found you hunched over the coffee table next to a precariously placed glass of red wine, a sock in one hand and a shirt in the other, piles of laundry neatly folded around you and your favorite movie playing on the TV. If it weren’t for the position that was sure to have your back feeling rough tomorrow, your soft, even breathing revealed you were dead asleep.

He had tried to ease you up, move you to the bedroom while trying not to wake you like he used to when his body was much younger, but you had shot up at the touch of his hand, the lightest sleeper of a mother of three. You blinked heavy eyelids while mumbling through sleep thick words about lunches for the two eldest who would be gone all the next day. Eddie had assured you he’d make them, and you were fairly certain you were back to sleep before your head touched the pillow.

The next day though, something inside of you snapped.

It had been better than the one before, but not great. You hadn’t showered, there was a leak in the kitchen that hadn’t gotten any better all week. The only break you had all day was picking the kids up from their activities, and making them a snack as soon as they dropped gear in haphazard piles in the entryway.

After hours on hold, you just started clanging around with tools you didn’t know how to use, your head throbbing from the lack of coffee or water and the sound of Mario grabbing another coin somewhere to your right.

Where was the real plumber you had asked Eddie to call? Maybe, if you concentrated hard enough, Mario would leap out of Lacey’s console, climb down the drain, and fight off the little mushroom guy who was-

You smacked the wrench against the pipe, repeatedly, like it had personally threatened you.

“Woah, woah, woah. Sweetheart, stop! You’re gonna break it!”

Eddie grabbed your wrist, pulling you up to see him standing with pizza boxes and staring at you with wide, blinking eyes. For a second, the sight of short curls starting to gray on the ends and lines next to eyes that were constantly squinting because he was smiling or refusing to wear sunglasses, had you forgetting you were mad, or stressed or…maybe you were just tired?

He cocked his head, trying to catch the gaze you let fall to the floor quickly as the kids shrieked about him being home. Eddie didn’t even get his question of if you were okay out before arms were wrapped around his waist and legs, all vying for his attention.

You had swiped at your nose to ward off the familiar sting, pulled down plates and started filling glasses of milk and juice, before shoving the casserole you’d had prepped into the freezer.

Then he snapped his fingers, smoothing a hand over Caroline’s hair and said, “Oh, hold on. I think you’re gonna like what else I brought home a lot more than the pizza.”

He left for the hallway, returning quickly, holding something behind his back that she tried to peek at and he tsked, singing, “Uh-uh-uh. Hold on. Your mom told me you were upset about your ballet slippers…”

Your shoulders rose, the pour of apple juice freezing over the glass.

He didn’t.

He smiled at you, oblivious, then at Caroline’s squeal of excitement and he kept going, “These aren’t new, but my co-worker’s daughter barely used them and…Ta-da!”

Eddie held out a shoebox with essentially brand new shoes and your body felt numb as you listened to her scream how much she loved them and him, squeezing him in a fierce hug as he kissed her temple.

Caroline held them up to you, proudly, and you smiled, nodding, saying something, you don’t even remember what. You ushered everyone to the table.

Lacey stood next to her chair, eyes darting over the hand-held game clutched in her fingers.

“Lacey, put it away, time for dinner.”

Ding! Bloop, bloop, bloop blah-bloop-de-bloop.

Eddie slapped pizza onto plates, licking stray sauce from his thumb, “How was everyone’s day? What’d you do?”

“Lacey, I’m not telling you again. Put the game away.”

Her eyes flew up to yours, something fiery and far to recognizable behind them that made you blink as she just said, “No.”

“Oh!” Eddie passed you pizza, oblivious, “How was lunch? Did dad do as good as mom?” He ruffled Michael’s hair as your daughter and you glared at each other.

Caroline nodded her head enthusiastically around a too big bite and Michael turned to you, pizza in his mouth on display as he talked, “It was so good. Can dad make our lunches every day? His was way better.”

You stood up from the table, without warning and without a word, walked to your bedroom, and slammed the door.

Were you having an adult tantrum? Maybe. Were you proud of it? Absolutely not. But the rush of tears that fell down your cheeks and the sob that overtook you was the kind of angry crying you simply do in private and you had needed to get there quick.

Footsteps jogged down the hallway behind you, the sound causing you to turn the lock on your bedroom door through blurry vision and gasps around your tears. As the knob tried to turn, you moved away with a hand over your mouth until the back of your knees hit the bed.

“Babe, open the door.” Eddie’s voice was soft as the knob rattled again.

“Liv, what the hell, open the door.”

You choked on a sob, fingers still over your lips so you barely got out, “I’m fine, Eddie, just…have dinner without me. I’ll eat later.”

The handle spun back and forth again, the sound of his forehead hitting the wood and his pained tone slicing through you, “Olivia, please open the door.”

You curled yourself on top of the bed, watching the handle through blurry vision slowly stop moving. Closing your eyes as the tears fell swiftly, you prayed it was the kind of crying that would just knock you out and put you to sleep, because god, did you need to sleep.

Only a few minutes later, maybe not even, the door swung open to reveal Eddie on his knees with a flashlight between his lips and a screwdriver in his hands and you, sobbing on the bed.

He jumped up at the sight of you curling your arms around your waist harder, at the way you rolled away from him and pressed your wet cheek into the pillow. At the way your hoarse voice called out, “Please leave me alone Eddie.”

The door closed, the lock clicked, and there was a distinct sound of both items he held dropping to the carpet with thuds. The bed dipped and the heat of his body curled behind you, fingers gently brushed over the damp skin of your cheek and neck.

Your body shook with more tears, eyes squeezing closed tighter when he pressed his nose to the back of your head while his arm wrapped around your waist, and he waited.

The tears eventually slowed, your chest started to fall and rise more evenly, and the light filtering in through your curtains started to turn lavender, then blue. Eddie managed to remove your jeans without waking you, and he pulled the duvet up over your shoulder as he bit his lower lip raw. Your face still didn’t look relaxed, like it was crying and worrying even in your sleep.

He left the room with with his fingers rubbing at the back of his neck, walking past the bathroom where water sloshed over the counter and soap slid down the-

Taking several steps backwards, his mouth opened, then closed at the sight in front of him, before he finally found his words and quietly asked, “Whatcha doing?”

His three children stood in a line in the mirror, looking at him in the reflection. Lacey held a stack of plates and silverware on the left, on her toes, pink socks (that were supposed to be white, but there must have been a laundry incident he was unaware of) fully submerged in bubbles, her little arms hoisting them to rest on the counter halfway. Caroline stood in front of the overflowing, sudsy sink, her hands invisible inside it, and Michael next to her with a rag and plate.

“We’re washing the dishes,” Caroline shrugged, like it was obvious.

He leaned against the doorframe, rubbing at his jaw as he hummed, “I…see that. Why are you doing that in here?”

The three kids blinked at him, and he tried not to smile, because you weren’t kidding that they eerily looked like him when they did that. They were all clearly confused, and then Michael said, “The kitchen sink is broken. It has been all week.”

Eddie closed his eyes, your cursing under your breath and beating up of the pipes when he got home making much more sense now.

All week? Why hadn’t you told him?

Shit, had you told him?

He cleared his throat and he tapped on the frame. “Right. Well, thank you for doing them. Try to stay quiet, mom’s sleeping.”

His body had barely turned out the door before Caroline called out, nervously, “Is she okay?”

Eddie wasn’t a fan of lying, even if it was to protect feelings. But the sight of his three kids with concern evident on each of their faces told him they’d know if he did anyways. Something told him they already knew she wasn’t and it was him who didn’t know the answer.

He sighed, entered the room deeper and kissed the tops of each of their heads, before he threw some towels over the floor that had puddles of water accumulating.

“I think she really needs to sleep, and I’ll talk to her later. But I think you guys doing the dishes really helps. Thank you.”

So while his kids did the dishes in the bathroom sink and you slept, the dog and…one…? goldfish kept him company in the kitchen where he inspected the sink.

It was an easy fix, but he didn’t have the part, and his stomach tensed with guilt as he thought about how you probably, definitely, asked him to look at it or call someone right away and he forgot. A simple drive down the street to the hardware store tomorrow, he’d have it fixed in less than an hour.

He put the tools away in the garage, above the label for them that you must have made and he went into the small office space in search of a post-it to put on the sink. The office was intended for you, but years and kids and projects went by and soon it became a dumping ground of all things house.

When he reached the desk, he found what he was looking for. There were plenty of post-its, in a variety of colors, lined up in a neat row above a large, tightly and neatly filled calendar.

Eddie swallowed as his fingers brushed over the names of his kids, him, the fucking dog and fish - all with their own color. The house, the bills, the errands…all of it had colors, schedules, a science, a system.

But the thing was, you weren’t a part of the system - you were the system.

There was nowhere, in that entire calendar, that had anything remotely relaxing for you on it. No dinner or wine night with any of the girls. No book club with Nancy anymore, maybe because they moved, but he had a feeling it still wouldn’t be there if they hadn’t. No dates with him. He couldn’t remember the last time he took you out, or hell, made you dinner - when was the last time he even cooked dinner for the whole family?

He swallowed as he read over the entire month, and the next and the next. Anything that would have been considered free time, or your time was full of laundry, grocery shopping, dusting the fucking baseboards, because apparently you do everything?

And Eddie knew he had colosally, monumentally, brutally, fucked up.

So when the kids were in bed, and the kitchen was clean, and the lunches for the next day were packed, and the laundry was folded and put away, Eddie crawled back into bed behind you.

He didn’t think you were awake, carefully letting his arm curl around you and his lips brush your shoulder in a wordless goodnight, an apology, a promise to talk about it as soon as you woke up. But then your words floated out and hung in the dark room and a tear slipped down his cheek.

“I’m sorry.”

Eddie sniffled, trying to reign it in, he cleared his throat, but you were already rolling to face him and he had his palms pressed to his eyes as his words left him all scratchy and on the brink of a full blown sob.

“Sweetheart, don’t you dare fucking say it again.”

Your fingers had curled around his wrists and tugged gently, until watery eyes were blinking at your own and you shrugged and whispered, “But I am.”

His lips found yours in a bruising kiss, noses squished together and gasps of air between parting mouths, fingers clutching at hips and necks as your legs tangled.

When was the last time he fucking kissed you like he meant it? Like it wasn’t a quick goodbye, goodmorning, or a hey, doll, how was your day as he half listened?

He shook his head, mouth catching yours in quick kisses between each softly spoken word, “No, I am.”

Your palms pressed to his cheek as your leg hitched over his thigh, breathless as he traveled over your jaw and down your neck for the first time in what felt like months.

Maybe it had been.

“Can you,” you tugged on short curls behind his ears as his tongue traced your collarbone which made you both groan, “Jus-just let me apologize?”

Eddie practically growled out the word no before his lips were back on yours.

It was fast fingers pulling at clothing and sharp teeth nipping at lips and skin, no foreplay, ‘just fuck me’ quick, and quietly because of the kids, kind of sex, until it wasn’t.

It only took him three thrusts to realize it wasn’t what he wanted. Quickly becoming memorizing touches that glided over skin and held with care, it was lips that whispered apologies and all the things he loved about you into yours, quiet and passionate pushing and pulling with each other, and hands gripping the others as you came together and said everything you couldn’t with intense eye contact, fingers deep in the curls at the back of his head as his name left your mouth only to be swallowed by his.

His lips brushed down your shoulder and back up, over your collarbone and chest as your fingers scratched at his scalp gently.

He hummed against your throat before whispering, “I think we should go to the cabin next week.”

“Eddie…” you started softly, already panicking about the missed events the kids would have to make up, the packing, the-

“Stop,” he kissed your jaw, then hovered over your face so his big, brown, sweet eyes could look down at you, “I can hear the stress coming out of you, and I just got it all out.”

You laughed quietly, fingers pressing to your eyes as you shook your head. Unconvinced, and if you were tired before, he’d just made you even more so.

Eddie kissed at your fingers, your nose, your cheek until he was nudging at the fingers again with his nose.

“Baby, I promise, it’ll be a good vacation. I think we could all use it. And I swear, I’ll be the parent. You kick your heels up and get drunk on shitty wine with Katie, okay?”

And here you were, doing just that.

The late/early morning arrival was not the shit show you were sure it was going to be. The kids listened immediately about being quiet entering the cabin at the late hour, especially after Eddie said if everyone woke up, the entire day on the lake would be ruined.

You woke up, without an alarm, for the first time in…you didn’t know how long. Greeted in the kitchen by Steve’s wife, Katie, quietly squealing and grabbing you in a hug that seemed to melt the tension from your shoulders. Eddie handed you a steaming cup of a coffee accompanied with a kiss on your temple and a swat to Steve’s chest when he tried to do the same.

The kids were already showered, dressed, fed - fruit and waffles and minimal syrup thankfully - and outside playing. You had your suspicions this was all largely due to Steve and his wife’s doing. If you dwelled on it too long, the comparison to how much better they were at the whole parenting thing than you could drive you insane, so you tried to ignore it.

There was only one argument with Lacey about the Nintendo, and Eddie snatched it and pocketed it and simply shrugged at her scowl when he did and said, “Told ya, babe.” Michael complained about lunch, but only until Nora, Steve’s eldest and seventeen, said “Oh, I love chicken salad” with a wink in your direction. You’d never seen Michael eat so quickly before and he was a garbage disposal on a good day.

And now, your heels were “up” leaning against the deck’s railing from your spot on the floor, a wine glass was in your hand. Katie was telling you all about Nora’s new boyfriend, Charlie, who Steve positively hated, as Eddie and him stood nearby, with beers and watching meat on the grill or whatever men do.

“Charlie is the least of our worries though,” she waved her hand with an eye roll, sipping the pink wine with a grimace, “I mean, you know. They’re monsters. Why’d we have them again?”

You laughed, shaking your head, “If you think yours are monsters, mine might literally be the devil incarnate.”

She snorted into her glass and you laughed, swiping at your lips with a shrug, “Okay, too far. But god, they’re…I don’t know. But, seriously, you and Steve…”

Your voice fell as the boys yelled over the grill at two of the girls doing cartwheels dangerously close to the fire pit.

“You guys, you really know what you’re doing. You’re a good team.” You smiled sadly, looking at the back of Eddie’s head and then at her.

She was watching you closely, a tilt of her head like she was trying to figure you out, before she grabbed your hand and squeezed it and admitted, “I yelled at him about loading the dishwasher wrong last week. We didn’t talk for three days.” She frowned and shook her head and looked over at him and he flipped his spatula and winked at her and she smiled and turned back to you. “Things aren’t ever what they seem on the outside. We all have shit. It just matters if your shit is something you can trudge through together. If you can help clean it off each other.”

She frowned at the wine she started pouring. “I don’t think this wine is helping with my metaphors, but you get what I mean?”

You nodded, taking in Eddie’s profile as he talked with his hands and got louder as he told a story to Steve.

“Yeah, yeah I do.”

It was silent as you both stared at the guys, sipping your wine, until you whispered, “So he loaded it wrong, huh?”

“So wrong!” She exclaimed, grumbling, “Who puts plates all willy-nilly? They go in a straight, neat-”

“I said I was sorry!” Steve shouted from the grill, his hands on his hips as he glared at the two of you.

Katie stuck her tongue out at him and he shook his head with narrowed eyes and she grinned, a quiet and not as silent as they thought conversation about her paying for that later.

You looked away, smiling into your wine glass when you caught Eddie’s gaze. He looked a little shocked when you made eye-contact, his cheeks flushed pink and you cocked your head with bunched eyebrows at him.

An unanswered silent question though, because the kids all shouted as a black SUV pulled up the long, gravel driveway.

A tall, lanky body jumped out of the backseat of the car before it was even in park, a head full of bouncing red waves shooting across the grass towards the literal swarm of children screaming, “Aunt Robin!”

She was down, on the ground, in literal seconds, the children forming a nice heap on top of her that the four of you all yelled about getting off at the same time, sharing grins that only parents who grew up doing the same thing and feel wrong for telling them not to could.

Your eldest, was bounding over to the car, along with Olivia, ready for the third to round out the little trio of three musketeers - Zoey Wheeler.

As they hugged and squealed about being back together, you all started down the steps to greet the late arrivals.

You couldn’t help but notice Caroline standing a touch away from Olivia as the two other girls gossiped about something from school.

But then Nancy was enveloping her in a tight hug, “Hey kiddo, hear you’re gonna be in the windy city pretty soon.”

Too preoccupied with your own waving of arms to tell her to stop talking, you didn’t notice Eddie whip his head over at Steve, who blinked with his hands raised.

Your head fell as Caroline turned to you with curious eyes and a quiet, “What?”

Eddie opened his mouth to explain, but you were already talking, him blinking behind you.

“I…I haven’t even told your dad. It was supposed to be a surprise for your birthday. You and me, driving to Chicago to go to this dance store that Zoey and Olivia go to. It’s not new stuff, but their dance troop shops there and it’s all really nice stuff and - oof!”

Caroline’s arms were squeezing you harder than they ever had, face pressed against you as her words got lost and muffled, but didn’t lose their meaning when she said, “Thank you so much mom.”

Your fingers ran over her hair, lips pressed to the top of her head as you enjoyed the hug for as long as she’d let you. “Of course, honey. Happy early Birthday.”

The girls quickly started discussing what they’d do on the trip, and Nancy winced out an apology you told her was unnecessary as you hugged, all while Eddie gulped down his beer and Steve narrowed his eyes at him which made Eddie wave him off, grabbing another beer out of the cooler.

“I am in need of assistance,” Robin called weakly, from her spot on the ground, now abandoned by all the children who were quick to return to their activities.

Nancy sighed and drawled dramatically, “Coming, dear.”

Robin groaned from the ground, but giggled. “Thank you, sugar-pie.”

“Robs, I’ll leave you down there…” she warned.

“Fine,” Robin shrugged, blue eyes staring up at the matching sky, “Dingus will-”

He was already hoisting her up, and grabbing her in a big hug only the two of them could find comfortable from the amount of squeezing suffocation.

Nancy looked at you and Katie and sighed.

“Wine.”

You were both already handing your glasses over with smiles before she could finish the word.

She was thoroughly tipsy by her third glass, and the stress you could sense when she arrived - maybe it was a thing all you mom’s could sense, or maybe it was because of being old friends - was melted from her face as she called out, loudly, excitedly, “Robin!”

“Yes, my love?”

Robin’s legs swung as they dangled from her hoisted up spot on the railing by the men. A baseball hat turned backwards over waves tinted red and silver and a sly smirk resting on her lips as she looked at her wife with more love than should be possible in a human.

Nancy’s cheeks flushed and you all snickered into your glasses, because you all knew what was coming next.

“I, uh,” Nancy cleared her throat, as big, blue eyes tried to blink innocently, “I need to talk to you. Inside.”

Robin grinned and nodded, “Lead the way, Wheeler.”

Nancy frowned, but clumsily made her way inside with a giggle.

With a hop down, a salute, and a quiet, “Duty calls, boys,” Robin followed, all of your “boos” and “ow-ow-ow’s” slammed on by the door.

Katie pulled out a stack of cards, the boys finally came over and joined you, and your legs crossed over Eddie’s lap as you hid your deck from him with a terrible poker face.

He soothed his thumb over your ankle bone, wet his bottom lip before he grinned at you. “Baby, remind me to never take you to Vegas.”

“You have taken me to Vegas.” You touched your cards to your nose, hiding your grin.

Eddie sucked his teeth as he nodded, “Right, right, how could I forget.”

“Seriously dude,” Steve moaned at his cards, frowning, “Vegas was a mistake.”

Katie smacked the back of his head and he flinched, but with a glint in his gaze at her, “What the hell was that for.”

“They got Lacey because of Vegas,” she scolded, “It wasn’t a mistake.”

“Believe me, I remember. I don’t remember much, but that I do. It’s sort of hard to forget the results of that trip. What with the children who came out of it. Lacey, Annie and-”

“Luke is stupid!”

Steve sighed at the now sherbert colored sky. He groaned, “I knew it was too good to last.”

You rolled your eyes as you dropped your legs from Eddie’s lap as Lacey stomped up the stairs, huffing. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Eddie sit up, but you were already grabbing at your daughter’s crossed arms and pulling her towards you.

“Woah, super mean word, let’s think of a better one.”

“A buttface!” She frowned, but didn’t resist your embrace as she climbed onto your lap, a privilege that was fleeting.

“Nope, try again.” You shook your head, letting your chin rest on the top of her head as a hand soothed up her spine, while hers gestured wildly in search of the right word.

“He’s…he’s…impossible!”

You hummed, great word - especially for a seven year old.

“Why is he impossible?” You asked quietly, Katie taking the hint and getting Steve and Eddie to go back to a semi-normal conversation and their cards.

Lacey fiddled with your shirt collar, grumpy and big lips pouting just like her dad. “We were playing Dragons, and he said that I had to be the princess and stay in the tree house while he fought the dragon and saved me! I don’t want to just sit there!”

Steve smiled around the lip of his beer and Katie rolled her eyes, looking at you with a mouthed, “We’ll talk about that later.”

“Ah,” you adjusted in your seat, hugging her closer as her fingers roamed to the necklace around your throat. “I would be frustrated by that too. I like helping. I don’t want someone to come rescue me, either.”

You glanced up at Eddie who smiled softly at you, watching intently.

“Right. So I’m not playing. I don’t like him anymore,” she huffed, breath warm on your already sweaty skin and fingers leaving something sticky and smelling like pine trees all over you.

“You don’t, huh?”

“Nope,” she popped the ‘P’, but her gaze wandered over to the yard where the boy in question fought his sisters with sticks.

It took you a bit, and maybe you were just soaking up the smell of her strawberry shampoo, or the way she fit perfectly in your arms, but you finally asked softly, “Hey, you remember Dimitri and Anya?”

Lacey shifted with a dramatic sigh, but she nodded.

“I’m pretty sure they didn’t like each other either. But, then Anya showed him she could do anything he learned to do, right? And he listened to her? She helped save him in the end, remember?”

“Spoilers!” Steve grimaced and Lacey giggled which he smiled and booped her nose at.

“So,” you lifted your daughters chin, big eyes that reminded you of someone else peering at you unwaveringly as you continued, “You go tell that Harrington boy that Princesses can slay dragons too.”

“They can?” Lacey asked, unsure, unconfident, in a way that melted your heart, put it back together and melted it again.

You nodded and cleared your throat, trying not to cry. “Absolutely.”

She started to climb off of you, but you tugged at her waist, brushing a curl behind her ear as you smiled, “And baby?”

“Yeah?”

You kissed her forehead and whispered, “It’s okay to need some saving sometimes. If you want or need the help, kay?”

She nodded, kissed your cheek, and hopped off, bounding down the stairs with a sing-song call to her tone, “Ohhhh, Luuukkkee!”

Lifting the cards from the table, you smiled at the sound of your daughter antagonizing a Harrington and before you could make a jab at Steve, fingers were under your chin, and Eddie was tilting your head, lips on yours and stealing all of the air from your lungs.

His tongue swiped over your bottom lip and his hand cradled your jaw as you opened for him without thought, fingers curling into the fabric of his t-shirt until loud clearing of throats came from your right.

You broke away with a gasp, but Eddie pulled you back in for one more press of his lips and a whispered, “Sorry,” as he sat back down looking not sorry at all.

Steve tried to hide his grin as he threw a chip into the pile and Katie grinned at you as she quipped, “Wow, guys, you’re worse than the lovebirds inside.”

Eddie didn’t look up from his cards, but he raised his eyebrows. “I seem to recall an incident in my home on my kitchen counter on my daughter’s first birthday, Katherine.”

“Touche, Edward, touche,” she beamed as Steve choked on his beer.

He quickly changed the subject, swiping beer from his lips as he looked at you. “You’re gonna have to show me how you did that.”

Your wine glass froze halfway to your mouth and he laughed, coughed, covered his mouth with his fist. “I meant the talk with Lace. Not the kissing. Now that you guys’ll be closer we can…”

Eddie hung his head as Steve trailed off and you quirked an eyebrow. “Closer?”

Katie took a large gulp of her wine and Steve gestured to the grill with a hook of his thumb over his shoulder, “I’m gonna…”

“I’ll help!” Katie jumped up and followed.

“Eddie, what’s going on?”

He sighed, set his cards down, scooted his chair closer to you before his hands grabbed yours.

“I got a promotion, sort of.”

“Wh-what? Eddie, that's great!” You squeezed his hands, your heart hammering in your chest because he wasn’t looking at you still. The knowledge that there wasn’t really room for a teacher to get promoted stirring in your brain. “Wait, how…”

He grimaced, thumbs swiping over your knuckles as he nodded. “Right, yeah. So, it’s not so much a promotion, as it is a completely different job, at a completely different school. Or um, University.”

“In…in Chicago?” You were starting to piece it all together.

“Mhm,” he hummed, biting at his bottom lip that you instinctively reached up and pulled away from his teeth gently. He finally looked up at you, worried, and apologetic, but hopeful. “It’s, it’s a really great job. Tons of benefits. At the university. Way more pay. Flexible hours. I’d-I’d be home so much more. And I know, I know that moving is insane. But I just…”

He rambled, and you got lost, because you were thinking about telling the kids, about uprooting your entire life, about never seeing the patch of wall that the kids heights were on again. Your routine, your system, your grocery store, all pulled out from under you.

But then you then thought about how you’d only been on this vacation for a day and how much less stressed you were. How Steve and Katie and Robin and Nancy would be in the same city as you again. About how happy your kids were with all of them, how happy you were with them. The support you’d have. The promise of more time with Eddie. The adventure.

“Okay,” you said softly, interrupting whatever he was saying.

Eddie blinked at you, mouth parted in surprise.

“Okay? Okay what?”

You shrugged.

“Okay, let’s do it. Let’s move. Take the job.”

Eddie swallowed, he scooted closer and he cupped your jaw, thumbs grazing over your cheekbones as he murmured. “Okay, let’s do it, like you’re excited and want to, or okay let’s do it, like you don’t think you have a choice and you’re stressed and sad and I’m gonna have to unlock the door with the screwdriver again?”

“I mean,” you laughed, brushing over the worried lines of his forehead as you did, “Okay let’s do it. It’s gonna suck to move and tell the kids, but I think…”

They always tell you, you see stuff in slow motion in moments of panic, fear, but you never really believe it until it happens to you - seeing it all happen before it did.

“Oh my god!”

You were pushing back from Eddie, yelling your daughter’s name as she climbed up a tree, her foot about to step on a branch that looked dead and rotting even from this distance, and then she was falling.

There was a boy shouting beneath her, and his older sister’s shouting at him, screams of mom and dad that all four of you raced towards.

Everyone’s footsteps except Eddie’s slowed when you saw the eyelids fluttering over brown eyes pooling with big, crocodile tears and the leg already swelling with bright red trickling down from it.

Katie was shouting about grabbing the girl’s from inside, about ambulances and driving. Steve was pulling at all the other kids, reassuring them it was fine, and Eddie was focused on Lacey and Luke.

You don’t really remember what you did. You had arms around you and you spoke, but you don’t know what you said. Ushered into a car by big hands and a little one grasping yours tightly.

In the end, all it was, was a deep gash in her leg, nothing broken. Luke a little worse for wear with a fractured wrist, but he beamed when Lacey signed her name on the cast and asked you how to spell Princess before it, then kissed his cheek and told him thank you for saving her.

The rest of the week was the same as the first day after that, save for the two kids who huddled next to each other on the couch on the deck, their temples pressed together as they shouted at the screen of the Nintendo Eddie gave back almost immediately. Day three of watching his kid that close to a Harrington boy made him rethink the whole move and said it wasn’t happening anymore, which Steve promptly replied with, “Dude, they’re seven. Wait till she’s seventeen and dating a guy named Charlie.”

Nora’s head had perked up from coloring with the younger kids, an expression almost identical to her father’s as she scowled. “I thought you liked Charlie!”

“I do, I do sweetie.” Steve rubbed at his temple and gave Eddie and you a look that said he really did not like Charlie.

Time moved too quickly, and the light-hearted moments turned to memories, and soon bags were packed by the front door, and everyone was restlessly sleeping, not ready to say goodbye just yet.

Which is how you found yourself quietly making your way down the stairs to the kitchen, when you woke up to the empty bed and cold sheets.

You found him in the living room, eyes glued to the hand held device, his thumbs jabbing at it while he frowned.

“She wasn’t kidding,” he whispered, the girl in question tucked into his lap, her leg propped up on a pillow and drool spilling down his white shirt.

His arms flexed with each press, tattoos that were rarely on display anymore dancing under each movement. Short curls that the flecks of gray in stood out in the moonlight. Lines of worry and laughter all over his face, brown eyes gifted to all of your children because of the same ones maintaining their gaze on the console.

You slid onto the couch next to him, curling into his side with a yawn and a gentle rearrange of Lacey’s legs onto your lap. Fingers gesturing for him to give it to you.

Eddie handed it over, his arm scooping Lacey closer to his chest while his other wrapped around your shoulders.

You kept your eyes on the game as you whispered, “I’m sorry.”

The breath huffed out of his nose hit your jaw as he quietly laughed, “Babe, what?”

Mario leaped over blocks as you told him again, “I’m sorry. I froze, I don’t know what happened. Thank you for taking care of her, of all of them, I don’t-”

“We’re a team,” he kissed your cheek, his smile stayed pressed to your skin, “You know, a wise woman once said, ‘it’s okay to need some saving sometimes. If you want or need the help.’”.

A hum from your lips that fought a smile as his fingers squeezed your shoulder. You couldn’t help but grin at the screen though, when you pressed A for the final time.

“I think I know her. Same lady who said Princesses can slay dragons, too, right?”

The screen lit up with little fireballs, trills and chimes coming from the console signifying you beat Bowser - this time, all of which you quickly tried to cover up as Eddie shushed.

“Mommy,” her sleepy voice muffled in his chest.

“Yeah, sweetie?” You whispered, console silenced.

“Volume,” word almost lost to the yawn she gave before she was snuggling back into the crook of Eddie’s elbow and was out again.

Eddie tried not to snort or let his laughter shake her as your mouth fell open in shock and he took the Nintendo back, moving on to the next level.

You shook your head at your daughter, and glanced down at her wrapped and injured leg, at the peaceful features of her sleeping face.

“Man, you’re lucky you’re so cute,” you sighed.

It was silent for a while, and your eyelids started to flutter closed too, when Eddie spoke again.

“I totally thought Bowser was a turtle.”

#eddie munson #dad!eddie munson #stranger things fanfiction #superbly subpars writing #cw alcohol #cw injury #cw blood #easy like sunday morning universe #easy like sunday morning AU

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disfordevineaux · 1 year

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What's kind of phone I think each Carmen Sandiego character has:

Carmen: That limited edition red iPhone that came out a few years ago. Because it is red, along with a red case with a red pop socket on the back that keeps.falling.off. It's also mysteriously in perfect condition?

Player: A Google Pixel because he doesn't want to conform to the status quo of phone brands and claims he made it 'hack proof'. He sticks by it and claims it's better than any iPhone or Samsung on the market, but it's really not. And he knows that, we all know that. And no phone case because he literally can't find one for it because no one has a Google Pixel. So why make phone cases for a phone no one has?

Shadowsan: They got him an iPhone 12 Pro, big enough for him to use and see the screen because he has to view it from a distance as, and I quote 'The phone lights make his eyes blurry.' It also had one of those wallet cases mums have on their phones. He left it behind when he went on his sabbatical and got a Nokia brick and an international sim plan just for calls.

Zack: The most disgusting, feral, warped, sticky, crusty and shattered iPhone 6 in white you have ever witnessed in history yet it works completely fine despite the glass you find lodged in your finger when you use it and the centre button that is just an empty hole to the motherboard. REFUSES to get a new one because he doesn't want to lose the headphone jack and claims that apple removing it in the first place was cash grab and he will have no part in it. And honestly dam right zack I am with you there my man stay strong King xx

Ivy: She has a custom made franken-phone that is made up of various parts from all brands across the board. Alot of the parts donated from Devineaux's pile of fallen soldiers that met their doom between the 18-24 months he was actively chasing Carmen/VILE before VILE fell. Literally a beast and has a military grade case that she also crafted which she had tested. It is literally military grade, she has a certificate and everything.

Julia: Currently, a Lavender Samsung Ultra 23 256gb storage. She got it mostly for the cool pen it comes with, and because it's lavender. She updates her phone model every 2 years and sells the latter for almost the same price she bought it for because she keeps it in pristine condition. She's only ever cracked a phone once and it shook Julia to her core. It looked horrific in her opinion, the hair line crack so bad it made her gag when she brushed her finger over it. So now she always has a nice, strong silicone pastel purple case and screen protector over her phone which she cleans regularly.

Chase: He went through 6-7 phones during the 18-24 months while chasing Carmen/VILE before VILE fell. Before then and now after, he had whatever the latest phone was the year he got it regardless of the brand, about every 2-4 years or until it kicked the bucket. During that 18-24 months, he'd walk into a phone store, ask for the latest thing, and be on his way. Most of them died in his care before he even had the chance to take the back plastic off. Now, he's in far fewer situations that indanger his life or phone. Or if he is, takes the moment to hand his phone and wallet to whoever is nearby for safe keeping because he really likes the new one Julia picked out for him (which is just the same model as hers but black). Julia also being the one who made him get a case. He had no idea that phones came with their own clothing options.

Chief: Only uses holograms. But has a landline??????????????

Zari: She once owned a black Samsung A20 with a yellowing clear case back in 2015 before she was declared missing at sea? That's all the information I can get on it my sources tried their best sorry.

Brunt: Doesn't need it because she can project her voice across vast distances. Get her a rolled TV guide and she can blast your message from one side of America to the other 🇺🇸 yeehaw and also because she's scared those 5g mega hd3g Max phone microwave rays will melt her brain if she gets one of those flat things and slaps it to her face like an genz zombie.

Bellum: Has 17 Ipads all with different cases on them.

Cleo: She has other people do that phone thing for her so she isn't sure what kind of phone she has and I don't know either.

Maelstrom: A telepathic link chip he had installed into his brain to connect to cell towers. It doesn't really work... Or do anything... But it's in there so.... Yeah?

Dash: A Samsung flip BECAUSE ITS JUST AS PRETENTIOUS AS HE IS and so he can snap it shut to prove a point. He's been through like 10 of them because he snaps them closed too slay-ily damaging it. No case because I have no idea how you'd even get a case for it?? Like it folds? I don't know.

Paper Star: Lives off grid.

Sheena: A white iPhone 11 with a gold trim case that has a huge crack down the front. The back glass is completely shattered, but it doesn't stop her from endlessly scrolling through those insta reels about reviewing different tanning lotion brands.

Crackle: An oily iPhone with the most humongous case you've ever seen. You could drop it and it would bounce around like a ping pong ball. The grease that covers the lens gives his selfies an air brushed vibe to them that he just loves.

Mimebomb: An invisible 1970s orange rotary phone.

Neal: That mystic purple conch shell with the pull string from that one spongebob episode that answered questions or something. You know what I'm talking about don't make me pull up a picture.

Topo and Chev: They share one phone so covered in stickers you can't even tell what kind it is but its probably an iPhone. It's filled with couples selfies and can only work when permanently charging so it's always connected to a power bank that is also covered in stickers. Ugh.

#tag yourself Im the invisible 1970s orange rotary phone #i was bored and inspired by my new phone #Carmen Sandiego #disfordevineaux #chase devineaux #julia argent #cs 2019 #carmen sandiego netflix #carmen sandiego 2019 #cs ivy #cs zack

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fountainpenguin · 4 months

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"And the women, they all pity me... because I'm married, but not in love! Frozen at the center...?" (x)

---

New Dog's Life chapter today! ~ 3rd Life series fan-season

Chapter 20 - “Sizzle (Grian, Scar)”

❤️ Read on AO3

💛 Start from Chapter 1

💚 More Pixels Imperfect fics

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Grian makes plans to set SnifferMyFeet up on a date, then buys some very special bread. Scar comes home to a wrecked apartment and confronts the gingerbread-loving demon in his closet. Just your average Traffic SMP fanfic- nothing to see here.

(First 1,000 words under the cut)

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Grian

Status: Dear, bewildered, and awkward

💙 🧡 💚

Grian leaves a very special cloak hanging in the closet of Lounge 3LF specifically for full moon nights. It's black and heavy. Not at all as flamboyant as he'd like, and decorations would certainly make it more fun. The biggest thing that mars the inky blackness is the giant red symbol on the back: a circle with a slash down the center. More red marks, spaced a few centimeters apart, wrap the hems of his sleeves. He's got one on each shoulder too, and it's really not flattering…

… but the stifling, peculiar nature of it is really the whole point. It's a full moon tonight, you know.

Grian wraps it around his shoulders and clicks the silver clasp at the front. The thick cloak is padded (on the off chance anyone nips him with teeth or claws). It's not armor, but he can't use his wings like this. It'd be a massive liability in a fight, but it dulls the color and rustle of his feathers, and it's excellent at diverting the eye of anyone who's out tonight seeking visual or auditory courting cues.

TwoMuchGrian's still fussing with his feathers, scowling in the mirror. Pearl and Jimmy don their black and red cloaks in turn. Martyn, for the first time Grian can remember, struts from the lobby without one. Grian tries not to notice anybody else. He flips up the hood, smothering his hair. He pauses for Two so they can leave together. While waiting, he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror and almost snorts.

Nah, certainly not flattering… but totally effective. I wouldn't flirt with me either tonight.

The lanterns and copper bulbs that glow inside the multiplayer hub stay fluorescently bright all night long. Defining "night" is difficult in the underground, especially with time zones from around the world all dumped in one small perimeter. The Between dimension keeps chugging along anyway.

As Grian leaves the multiplayer zone, stepping out into the bedrock streets, the clock tower chimes to signal 12k ticks. Out there, above ground, the world's officially bathed in pink and orange sunset lighting. So they say, anyway. Hmm… Grian tips back his head, gripping the hood in both hands. He pulls the fabric downward so it digs against his pores.

He breathes.

New Star Station's bustling tonight. The city population ebbs and flows with account activity at the best (and worst) of times, but for now, chattering voices ripple through the air. Happy, friendly people bounce along wherever they want to go.

Pearl brushes past him then, sending one last I'm sorry grimace with her mouth and eyes. Grian nods back to indicate All good. Each moon phase stretches out for four days in Between, and tonight's the second one in the batch. The pull against his fluffing scarlet feathers is much, much stronger now than it was on Monday. It prickles over every shaft and barb.

Since neither he nor Pearl care for random hook-ups, they usually go out for food together or catch a movie on nights like tonight. It depends what's going on with Hermitcraft. Really, Grian doesn't make a habit of jumping online for projects immediately after an exhausting Life series recording session like this one. He usually gets Pearl's second full moon night- Gem and Impulse hang out with her on the third.

But tonight, Pearl has a refugee at her place… and not exactly someone he's thrilled to go looking for. His last encounter with EthoCam (Sorry… Rhetoric) left a less than pleasant aftertaste behind. At that thought, Grian stares down the dimly lit street, letting his eyes fall halfway shut.

I need to warn SnifferMyFeet not to go near him…

Maybe another time. Maybe when it isn't the full moon. Vex posture and flaunt themselves like mad this time of the month. Sniff might bite, and that's really not something he's in the mood for. There's still server clean-up to do on Hermitcraft. He's been meaning to add a nicer bridge design to the dolphin path. Maybe he'll send Scar a whisper in a bit.

He rocks forward, setting a brisk pace down the street. Blaze powder and slime balls are already mixing into magma cream on the bedrock. Two drifts after him without touching the ground. As much faith as Grian likes to put in the 'Not on the market tonight' cloak designs, it's an extra blanket of reassurance (like a knock to the head) knowing his twin's there to watch his back. Two might split off for some flirting later on, but it's nice of him to walk him home.

His comm buzzes, rattling up his arm like a shockwave. Grian looks down.

TwoMuchGrian: are we going to bigb's?

"… No, not tonight. Just back to our place."

Cheery people flit around on feet and wings. Some dress in 'No' cloaks and chat anyway, just excited to catch up while they have the chance. Some hook their arms around those of friends or acquaintances they've got their eye on for the evening. Strangers, maybe (some of them). No love hearts flicker in the cracks and crevices, but the warm eyes and friendly laughs say just as much.

It's an early courting night. It's posture. It's a show. Expect a few fights to break out tomorrow morning as people settle in and get more cherry-choosey, fussing over the partners they want to keep for the next 100 days. The block turns next Wednesday or Thursday. Scar won't even hunt until a couple nights into the full moon. He says souls taste better when they're satisfied on their post-loving time high, and they put up less of a fight.

Loving time. Sure.

So… What's everybody doing if these were never real hook-ups to begin with? No kisses. No nothing. His digital, programmed peers have no need nor desire to reproduce. All these empty courtship tugs they feel beneath the full moon just lead to… nothing.

[Full chapter on AO3 - Link at top]

#trafficblr #Grian #GoodTimesWithScar #ZombieCleo #NPC Grian #Dog's Life #ridwriting #apparently art #If you are not writing your flirty bird hybrids feeding people bread with their teeth then what is even the point #Dog's Life art #mcyt #fic announcement #''And how many men before (good anarchy men)...''

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budderdomo · 4 months

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My Paint Tool Sai Brushes/Painting Process Tutorial!

Explanations and Examples down below

Disclaimer: long post

Hello! I wanted to first thank everyone for liking/reblogging my most recent art piece (the Darkiplier one) It has become my first post with over 1000 notes which is just insane for me. I just wanted to do something to thank you guys for that.

Anyway, this post will be divided like this, so scroll to the title if you want specific things

Introduction

Brush textures/shapes for download

Overall process -> Terms and Definitions

How I use each brush (+ examples) -> Sketch -> Lineart (only do this sometimes) -> Rendering -> Textures + Post Processing

Conclusion

Introduction

This post is mainly for me in the future to look back on how my painting process was. My process changes ALL the time, sometimes I use lineart, sometimes I paint, sometimes I don't use textures, sometimes I have 100 layers, sometimes I have 1. It just changes depending on the piece. There is no "correct" way to do art. Do what you want!

Second of all, I feel I should point out you don't need fancy brushes or many brushes to make good art. I painted this piece with 1 brush.

That's right, 1 brush (it was the P A I N T brush shown in main). I didn't have a sketch, I didn't have any lines, I started with big shapes and went from there.

Third of all, I use Paint Tool SAI (the first one). So this will be specific to that program. I'm sorry, it's just what I know how to use.

Brush Textures/Shapes

You may see in my brushes that there are textures/shapes that don't come with the standard SAI program. I tried to find the links for you to download them yourself.

Arrow: https://www.deviantart.com/digikat04/art/Custom-SAI-Brush-I-265506547

All texture brushes: https://painttoolsaibrushes.splstc.com/painttool-sai-textures/

For some reason I can't find where I got marble pt. 2 or chalk so here's the png files. (You can convert them to .bmp files) (Hopefully that works!)

Chalk : Marble pt. 2

Overall Process

Before I go over my process I'm going to define some terms I'll be using and what I mean by them:

Flats - base colors

Rendering - Includes shading, lighting, small details, and texturing to define a form

Blending - mixing two separate colors together

Reduction - Once you've made a line/shape, reduction is the act of erasing part of it -> At the bottom of my brushes (in the images up above) you can see a checkered box which makes your brush transparent. I use the erasing brush to Reduce the red circle.

Persistence - How well the brush can create a new shape/color on top of pre-existing colors (If the brush blends a lot on top of other colors it has low persistence)

"Hard" vs "Soft" brushes - How well defined an edge is on a brush

Stabilizer - Turns trembly lines into smooth lines

So, I draw a different way each time. My canvas size is normally between 2500 pixels and 4000. I usually do around 3000 though. In general for my paintings I usually do

A sketch

Flats

Hue Shifts

Lighting/Shadows

Brighter Light/Deeper Shadows (Highlights/Ambient Occlusion)

Smaller Details

Texturing

Post Processing

For my bigger compositions, I make thumbnails. And for my "comic book" style I use lineart and layer modes (like multiply, luminosity)

How I Use Each Brush (+ Examples!)

Sketch

I have 2 sketch brushes. "pencil" and "sketch" For most of my life I have been using the default pencil brush on size 1. But recently I have been using this softer "sketch" brush on size ~20 or so. Either way works, but I find that the "pencil" brush is easier for linework and the "sketch" brush is easier to blend into paintings

"Pencil" : "Sketch" examples

Lineart (opt.)

Nowadays I don't use lineart that often, but if I do it's with my "Softlines" brush. It's great for both very thick and very thin lines. I lower the opacity of my sketch and put lineart on a new layer on top of it

"Softlines" brush examples

Flats

With lineart I seperate each new color with a new layer. For painting I'm now using one color as an underpainting color and working on top of that layer. So I render one thing at a time while working on the same layer.

I lower the opacity of the sketch and create a new layer under my sketch. I use my "pencil" brush to lay out the underpainting color and "blur" for hue shifts. And then I reduce it to the silhouette using my "sketch" brush (This gives a softer outline)

Rendering

This would take way too long to explain every step of how I do it. So I'll explain how I use my brushes in this step.

"Arrow!!!" - I use this brush for laying out intial shapes, big areas of color, shading, lighting. The arrow shape has a point on the end that's really great for triangular shapes. It's not very good at small details because of the texture applied to it.

"Sketch" - I use this brush during the rendering as well. It's great for small details that you want a softer look of. It has a high persistence so it's great for working on the same layer.

"P A I N T" - This is a brush that's good at very many things. It has higher blending than "sketch" or "Arrow!!!" and it's shape is square. Great for blending, general painting, small details, reduction, etc.

"blur" - great for gradients or to smooth something out a lot

"Gaussian" - is a gaussian blur. Great for making things out of focus or fuzzy

"square TEX" - texture brush that has high persistence with some blending

"metal TEX" - texture brush with high blending and a spread shape.

"speckle TEX" - texture brush for kind of a sparkly look. High persistence

"water TEX" - texture brush that works kind of like a glaze. You can use for flair/fun

example

Post-Processing

Typically I use more filters for this. Paint Tool Sai has sliders to change hue, saturation, brightness, contrast, luminosity, and color deepen. So I tend to mess with those. I also add effects like chromatic aberration

The tutorial I follow for chromatic aberration in Paint Tool Sai: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=thmaephD9Ec&t=169s

I also add particles like dust and other objects.

Finally I use my Gaussian blur to make things out of focus/motion blur

Conclusion

I hope this helps! I feel like I'm at a point in my art journey where I'm good enough to give advice. So hopefully this helps someone out there with their art journey! Obviously I have a long way to go, but I'm pretty proud of where I've come. I remember watching speedpaints and tutorials trying to become better at art. So I kind of want to add to that cycle for artists. :D Have a great day!

#paint tool sai #brushes #art tutorial

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adiwan · 3 months

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Ruins of Alph Ho-Oh replica

I was yet again approached by one of my friends to create something from Pokémon, namely the Ho-Oh puzzle from the Ruins of Alph from Pokémon Gold/Silver/Crystal. I did such a good job with my previous Pokémon creations that they felt compelled to have something too. This time I was compensated fairly.

I used a screen shot from the Game Boy Color game, traced it in Adobe Illustrator. Instead of trying an exact copy I tried to imitate a look of a ragged outline that resembles the pixelated look without being too on the nose.

Then the file needed to be converted into a SVG in Inkscape (because of some wonkyness importing it into Autodesk Fusion 360), and then imported it into Autodesk Fusion 360, where I extruded the areas into a 3D-printable giant cookie cutter model. With that giant cookie cutter printed out I put that immediately into action and stamped an equally-sized slab of polymer clay (about 15cm x 15cm) and textured it with a balled-up piece of aluminium foil. After 30 minutes of baking and a little bit of cool-off time the most arduous part began with the painting process. It took me about 6 hours of carefully building up (and messing up) the paint job with the crappy acrylic paint that won't get used up fast enough. I messed it up a few times trying some color experiments and using my miniature painting washes. The last part was that gave me the most head ache as they are hard to fix when applied. Washing or rubbing it off meant that the crappy acrylic paint would also be removed. I felt stuck at some point using the wash as it made the surface too glossy and the brown darkened a ton. I was disheartened for a bit but rolled with that mistake. All I wanted was to have some minor darker variations. The majority of the time painting on it was to create a more coherent look by switching between dry brushing and applying very thinned layers of more washes. I got to a point that made me happy again with the outcome (also a little bit of sleep helped too).

For the photo I used my Canon EOS 350D (Canon EOS Rebel XT), for which I needed to buy a new battery. The old battery couldn't hold a charge. Next to my house there is a big patch of moss I find quite appealing to look at and I thought it would complement the golden-brown paint job very well. I propped it up with a small box so the whole thing wouldn't sink completely into the squishy moss bed.

#my art #pokemon #ho-oh #ho oh #crafts #polymer clay #prop replica #alph ruins #pokemon ho-oh #ruins of alph

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nucleariguana · 10 months

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The Lyrics To Every Song In “Mandatory Fun”

My maid is cleaning the bathroom, so I can't take a shower When I do, the water starts getting cold after an hour I couldn't order off the breakfast menu, cause I slept in till two Then I filled up on bread, didn't leave any room for tiramisu Oh no, there's a pixel out in the corner of my laptop screen I don't have any bills in my wallet small enough for the vending machine Some idiot just called me up on the phone, what!? Don't they know how to text? OMG! I got

First world, first world problems (First world problems) First world, first world problems (First world problems) First world, first world problems

I bought too many groceries for my refrigerator Forgot my gardener's name, I'll have to ask him later Tried to fast forward commercials, can't, I'm watching live T.V I'm pretty sure the cookies in this airport lounge ain't gluten free My barista didn't even bother to make a design in the foam on the top of my vanilla latte

First world, first world problems (First world problems) First world, first world problems (First world problems) First world, first world problems

Can't remember which car I drove to the mall My Sonicare won't recharge, now I gotta brush my teeth like a neanderathal The thread count on these cotton sheets has got me itching My house is so big, I can't get WiFi in the kitchen Uh, I had to buy something I didn't even need just So I could qualify for free shipping on Amazon

First world, first world problems (First world problems) First world, first world problems (First world problems) First world, first world problems (First world problems)

First world, first world problems (First world problems) First world, first world problems (First world problems) First world, first world problems

I'm waking up, in Cheeto dust My belly's covered with pizza crust I'm using my inhaler now I'm out of shape, fattening up I'm sipping Coke from a Solo Cup Donut crumbs are upon my lips, whoa

The TV's on, I really hate this show I can't reach my remote control Welcome to my new place, to my new place Sorry it's a cramped space, but it's my place Whoa oh, whoa I'm, really inactive, I'm so inactive Whoa oh, whoa I'm, really inactive, highly inactive

My muscle's gone, I'm atrophied Always lose my fight with gravity I rest my bones, and just chillax, whoa My NordicTrack's collecting dust And my StairMaster's a pile of rust This is it, The Inertia, whoa

I can't get up, this couch is part of me I'm growing cobwebs on my knee Pretty sad for my age, sad for my age I could break my rib cage, here is my age Whoa oh, whoa I'm, really inactive, yes, quite inactive Whoa oh, whoa I'm, really inactive, not very active

Near comatose, no exercise Don't tag my toe, I'm still alive

I'm giving up, my energy is shot I'm never moving from this spot Never move from this place, move from this place I'll stay here in this place, right in this place Whoa oh, whoa I'm, really inactive, just so inactive Whoa oh, whoa I'm, really inactive, not so attractive

Tuesday morning, 8:15 I was riding to work on the Jackson Park Express Seemed like any other day Then my whole world changed In a way I never could have guessed 'Cause she walked in Took the seat right across the aisle I knew we had a special connection The second I saw her smile

She smiled as if to say "Hello, haven't seen you on this bus before" I gave her a look that said "Huh, life is funny, you never know what's in store By the way, your hair is beautiful I bet it smells like raisins"

She looked at me in a way that asked "Did you have a nose job or something? I'm only asking, cause your nose looks slightly better Than the rest of your face" I arched my eyebrow, ever so slightly Which was my way of asking "Do you want my old Hewlett-Packard printer? It still works, kinda And I got a bunch of ink cartridges left"

Then, she let out a long sigh Which, I took to mean, "Uh" "Mama, what is that deodorant you're wearing? It's intoxicating Why don't we drive out to the country sometime? And collect deer ticks in a zip-lock baggie", oh yeah

I gave her a penetrating stare Which could only mean "You are my answer, my answer to everything Which is why, I'll probably do very poorly On the written part of my driver's test"

Yes, it all happened On the Jackson Park Express On the Jackson Park Express On the Jackson Park Express On the Jackson Park Express

I knew she was starting to fall for me 'Cause she crinkled her nose, which unmistakably meant "Baby, lets wear each other's clothes And speak in a thick German accent And, maybe someday we can own and operate Our own mobile pet-grooming service" I couldn't hold back my feelings I gave her a look, that said "I would make any sacrifice for your love Goat, chicken, whatever I could never hold you close enough Let's have our bodies surgically grafted together Oh, surgically grafted together"

She picked up a newspaper, and started reading to herself Which I'm sure, was a way of telling me "When you're cold, I will warm you When you're shivering, I will hold you When your nauseous, I will give you Pepto-Bismol every hour For as long as the symptoms persist" Oh, I, I never, ever want to see you cry So, please let me cauterize your tear ducts with an arc welder Then, I glanced down, at her shirt, for a second In a way that clearly implied "I like your boobs"

Yes, it all happened On the Jackson Park Express On the Jackson Park Express On the Jackson Park Express On the Jackson Park Express

I cleared my throat quietly, and then, I looked away And I'm sure it was obvious to her, just what I was trying to say I was trying to say, "Hey I'd like to make a wall-sized mural out of all the dead skin cells That you slough off while you sleep at night" Whoa-o-Oh, "I'd like to rip you wide open And french-kiss every single one of your internal organs Oh, I'd like to remove all your skin, and wear your skin, over my own skin But not in a creepy way"

Then, I'm pretty sure, she looked at me, out of the corner of her good eye And, though, she never spoke a word, this is exactly what I heard She was saying, "Oh! I wanna make out with you, in an abandoned toll-booth, in the middle of a monsoon I wanna ride dolphins with you, in the moonlight Until the staff at Sea World kicks us out I want you inside me, oh, like a tapeworm"

I pointed to the side of my mouth, as a way of indicating "Hey, I think you got something on the side of your mouth" She licked the corner of her lips, as if to say "Here?", I nodded, implying, "Yeah, you got it"

And, then the bus stopped, at 53rd Street, and she got up suddenly "Where are you going?", pleaded my eyes, "Baby, don't you do this to me Think of the beautiful children we could have someday We could school them at home, raise them up the right way And protect them from the evils of the world Like Trigonometry and Prime Numbers, oh no Baby, please don't go"

She brushed my leg, as she left the bus I'm sure that was her way of saying "I'm sorry this just isn't working out You're suffocating me I need some space to find out what life's all about So, goodbye forever, my love"

And deep inside, I knew she was right It was time for us both to move on And no, I never got her number, oh no no She never bothered to leave her address, oh But, as long as I live, I'll never forget Those precious moments we shared together

On the Jackson Park Express On the Jackson Park Express On the Jackson Park Express On the Jackson Park Express On the Jackson Park Express On the Jackson Park Express On the Jackson Park Express On the Jackson Park Express

We must all efficiently Operationalize our strategies Invest in world-class technology And leverage our core competencies In order to holistically administrate Exceptional synergy We'll set a brand trajectory Using management's philosophy Advance our market share vis-à-vis Our proven methodology With strong commitment to quality Effectively enhancing corporate synergy Transitioning our company By awareness of functionality Promoting viability Providing our supply chain with diversity (versity, ooooh) We will distill our identity Through client-centric solutions And synergy (Oooooh oooh oooh)

At the end of the day (At the end of the day) We must monetize our assets The fundamentals of change Can you visualize a value-added experience? That will grow the business infrastructure and Monetize our assets Monetize our assets Monetize our assets

Bringing to the table Our capitalized reputation Proactively overseeing Day-to-day operations Services and deliverables With cross-platform innovation Networking, soon will bring, seamless integration Robust and scalable, bleeding-edge and next-generation Best of breed We'll succeed In achieving globalization

And gaining traction with our resources in the marketplace It's mission-critical to stay incentivized Against this purple-poster-flexible-solutions for our customer base If you can't think outside the box You'll be downsized It's a paradigm shift! (Hey, Hey! Look out!) Well, it's a paradigm shift, now! (Here we go! Here we go! Here we come! Here we come! Ha!)

We clawed, we chained our hearts in vain We jumped never asking why We kissed, I fell under your spell A love no one could deny

Don't you ever say I just walked away I will always want you I can't live a life, running for my life I will always want you

I came in like a wrecking ball I never hit so hard in love All I wanted was to break your walls All you ever did was wreck me Yeah, you wreck me

All the other kids with the pumped up picture You better run, better run, outrun my gun All the other kids with the pumped up picture You better run, better run faster than my bullet

And we danced all night to the best song ever We knew every line, now I can't remember I think it went ooh eh ooh I think it went oohla eh ooh I think it goes eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh

Eh, sexy lady Po, po, po, po Polka Gangnam Style Eh, sexy lady Po, po, po, po Eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh

Hey, I just met you And this is crazy But here's my number So call me, maybe And all the other boys Try to chase me But here's my number So call me, maybe

I wanna scream and shout (hey!) And let it all out And scream and shout (hey!) And let it out We sayin', "Ohh, wee ohh, wee oh wee oh" We sayin', "Ohh, wee ohh, wee oh wee oh wee ohh, wee oh wee oh"

Now you're just somebody that I used to know Now you're just somebody that I used to know

It's going down (hey!), I'm yelling timber You better move, you better dance Let's make a night you won't remember I'll be the one you won't forget (Timber! Timber!)

I'm sexy and I know it Girl look at that body (He's sexy and he knows it)

I wear your grandad's clothes I look incredible I'm in this big old coat From that thrift shop down the road (Hey!)

That's right! (He looks incredible) I do! (He's in that big old coat) It's large! Hey, lets go! (From that thrift shop down the road)

I'm gonna pop some tags Only got twenty dollars in my pocket I'm hunting, looking for a come-up This is super awesome

She's up all night 'til the sun I'm up all night to get some She's up all night for good fun I'm up all night to get lucky

We're up all night 'til the sun We're up all night to get some We're up all night for good fun We're up all night to get lucky

We're up all night to get lucky We're up all night to get lucky We're up all night to get lucky We're up all night to get lucky We're up all night to get lucky We're up all night to get lucky We're up all night to get lucky Up all night to get lucky

Yes, we're up all night to get Can get lucky, we're gonna get lucky, let's all get lucky We're up all night to get lucky! (Hey!)

I saw a baby drive a truck I saw a junkie eat a tuba I saw a stripper kiss a duck Behind a dumpster in Aruba

I saw this fat, psychotic guy His underwear was made of crickets He pawned a skeleton to buy Some old expired lotto tickets

I saw a naked vagrant giving Mouth-to-mouth resuscitation to his cat I probably could have gone my whole life Without seeing that

With my own eyes I see things that'd drive a normal man insane Wish I could disconnect my brain From my own eyes

I saw a mime get hacked to death With an imaginary cleaver I saw an old man's final breath I watched him die from Bieber Fever I saw these diabetic chicks In an abandoned 7-Eleven I watched them snorting pixie sticks While they were belching Stairway To Heaven

I saw two drag queens trying to see how many crackers They could shove up each other's nose I'd like to erase my mind completely but I suppose That's just the way it goes

With my own eyes I see things that'd drive a normal man insane Wish I could disconnect my brain From my own eyes (my own eyes) Those visions haunt my memory Oh, there's so much I wish I could unsee With my own eyes

Some priest got drunk and stole a circus zebra And he trained it to massage his back My guinea pig committed hara-kiri So we used him to play hacky-sack My neighbor's kids sold weapons grade plutonium And frosty ice-cold lemonade They took MasterCard and sometimes Human organs in trade, that's how we paid I have to say that it was really darn good lemonade

With my own eyes I've seen thing that'd drive a normal man insane Wish I could disconnect my brain From my own eyes (my own eyes) Those visions haunt my memory Oh, there's so much I wish I could unsee With my own eyes With my own eyes With my own eyes With my own eyes

Everybody shut up, woo! Everyone listen up! Hey, hey, hey, uh Hey, hey, hey

If you can't write in the proper way If you don't know how to conjugate Maybe you flunked that class And maybe now you find That people mock you online

Okay, now here's the deal I'll try to educate ya Gonna familiarize You with the nomenclature You'll learn the definitions Of nouns and prepositions Literacy's your mission And that's why I think it's a

Good time To learn some grammar Now, did I stammer Work on that grammar You should know when It's "less" or it's "fewer" Like people who were Never raised in a sewer

I hate these word crimes Like I could care less That means you do care At least a little Don't be a moron You'd better slow down And use the right pronoun Show the world you're no clown Everybody wise up!

Say you got an "I", "T" Followed by apostrophe, "s" Now what does that mean? You would not use "it's" in this case As a possessive It's a contraction What's a contraction? Well, it's the shortening of a word, or a group of words By the omission of a sound or letter

Okay, now here's some notes Syntax you're always mangling No "x" in "espresso" Your participle's danglin' But I don't want your drama If you really wanna Leave out that Oxford comma Just keep in mind

That "be", "see", "are", "you" Are words, not letters Get it together Use your spellchecker You should never Write words using numbers Unless you're seven Or your name is Prince

I hate these word crimes You really need a Full time proofreader You dumb mouth-breather Well, you should hire Some cunning linguist To help you distinguish What is proper English

One thing I ask of you Time to learn your homophones is past due Learn to diagram a sentence too Always say "to whom" Don't ever say "to who" And listen up when I tell you this I hope you never use quotation marks for emphasis You finished second grade I hope you can tell If you're doing good or doing well About better figure out the difference Irony is not coincidence And I thought that you'd gotten it through your skull What's figurative and what's literal Oh but, just now, you said You literally couldn't get out of bed That really makes me want to literally Smack a crowbar upside your stupid head

I read your e-mail It's quite apparent Your grammar's errant You're incoherent Saw your blog post It's really fantastic That was sarcastic (Oh, psych!) 'Cause you write like a spastic

I hate these Word Crimes Your prose is dopey Think you should only Write in emoji Oh, you're a lost cause Go back to pre-school Get out of the gene pool Try your best to not drool

Never mind I give up Really now I give up Hey, hey, hey Hey, hey, hey Go away!

Your sports team is vastly inferior That simple fact is plainly obvious to see We're gonna kick your collective posterior Of course you realize we're speaking figuratively Our stats are thoroughly impressive Our coach really has the Midas touch Our players are fast and strong and brave And your guys, eh, not so much

In fact we've played teams across the nation And you're the worst one we've come across Try to assimilate that information And it just might help you cope with your impending loss Oh, and if somehow we are still failing To affectively articulate the points at hand Allow us now to summarize them in a manner That your feeble brains can understand

We're great (we're great) And you suck (you suck) We're great (we're great) And you suck (you suck) We're great (we're great) And you suck (you suck) You see there's us (we're great) And then there's you (you suck) We're really, really great (really great) In contrast, you really suck (really suck) Okay, full disclosure, we're not that great But nevertheless, you suck

Your sports team will soon suffer swift defeat That theory's backed up by empirical evidence We're gonna grind up your guys into burger meat Again, of course, we're speaking in the figurative sense What's the use of even going through the motions When you know that you're gonna lose anyhow So why don't you save us all some time And give up now (you suck!)

I never seem to finish all my food I always get a doggie bag from the waiter So I just keep what's still unchewed And I take it home, save it for later

But then I deal with fungal rot, bacterial formation Microbes, enzymes, mold and oxidation I don't care, I've got a secret trick up my sleeve

I never bother with baggies, glass jars, tupperware containers Plastic cling wrap, really a no-brainer I just like to keep all my flavours sealed in tight

With aluminum foil (Foil) Never settle for less That kind of wrap is just the best To keep your sandwich nice and fresh

Stick it in your cooler (Cooler) Eat it when you're ready Then maybe you'll choose (You'll choose, you'll choose, you'll choose) A refreshing herbal tea Mmm, lovely!

Oh, by the way, I've cracked the code I've figured out these shadow organizations And the Illuminati know That they're finally primed for world domination

And soon you've got black helicopters comin' cross the border Puppet masters for the New World Order Be aware: There's always someone that's watching you And still the government won't admit they faked the whole moon landing Thought control rays, psychotronic scanning Don't mind that, I'm protected cause I made this hat

From aluminum foil (Foil) Wear a hat that's foil lined In case an alien's inclined To probe your butt or read your mind

Looks a bit peculiar ('culiar) Seems a little crazy But someday I'll prove (I'll prove, I'll prove, I'll prove) There's a big conspiracy

One time I was in the checkout line Behind Steven Seagal Once I'm pretty sure Mr. Jonah Hill Was in the very next bathroom stall My best friend's brother Well, he was an extra in Wayne's World 2 My neighbour's baby sitter Dated three of the guys in Motley Crue I swear Jack Nicholson Looked right at me at a Laker's game

I got a lame Lame claim to fame

Check it out, I bought a second hand toaster From a guy who says he knows Brad Pitt I got me an email from the prince of Nigeria Well, he sure sounded legit My sister used to take piano lessons From the second cousin of Ralph Nader Last year I threw up in an elevator Next to Christian Slater Well guess what, my birthday and Kim Kardashian's Are exactly the same

I got a lame Lame claim to fame A really lame Lame claim to fame

Once at a party, my dentist accidentally Sneezed on Russell Crowe I posted first in the comments On a YouTube video I tried to sit by Steve Buscemi But he told me this seat's taken I know a guy who knows a guy who knows a guy Who know a guy who knows a guy who know Kevin Bacon

I had a car that used to belong To Cuba Gooding Jr.'s uncle A friend of mine in high school Had jury duty with Art Garfunkel One time I was staying in the same hotel As Zooey Deschanel I used the same napkin dispenser As Steve Carell at a Taco Bell Well I don't mean to brag but Paul Giamatti's plumber knows me by name

I got a lame Lame claim to fame A really lame Lame claim to fame I'm talking lame Lame claim to fame A really really really lame Lame claim to fame

Ow, let's get lame boys

First things first, I'm a craftsman (craftsman) Remodelling is my only passion (it's my passion) And I'm the greatest in the business Want referrals, yo My clientèle will bear you witness (right, right) I can help when your door jamb sticks (heh?) There is nothing in the world I can't fix (yeah) I do tiles, I do stone, I do bricks Call me, I'll come rushing over with my bag of tricks (bag of tricks) Where you go when your disposal is rusted (rusted) Termite problem making you disgusted (yuck) When your front window is busted (hey hey hey) Just one man that's always trusted

I'm so handy, you already know I'll fix your plumbing when your toilets over flows I'm so handy, I'll bring you up to code When your dishwasher's about to explode

Now you see that your furnace is needing some service I'm fully bonded, no need to be nervous Perhaps you would like a new counter Formica Maybe I'll hook up your dish washer combo dryer But all your pipes are antique Your water pressure's too weak You got an attic full of dry rot Because your roof sprung a leak Your fridge is starting to reek Your hardwood floors really squeak But don't you worry I'll just show you my amazing technique Now let me glue that, glue that and screw that, screw that Any random chore you got, well I can do that, do that Or maybe I'll just rewire your house for fun I got 99 problems but a switch ain't one

I'm so handy, everyone said so I'll grout your bathroom, resurface your patio I'm so handy, I'm the guy to know When your leaf blower doesn't blow-oh-oh-oh

Patch the drywall, clean your gutters and mow the lawn Make that phone call, I'll install anything you want Yeah, check my big staple gun, my socket wrenches are second to none I won't quit 'til I'm done, don't even care if I hammer my thumb (OW!)

Still rocking my screwdriver Got the whole world thinking I'm MacGuyver Your heating bills are shocking I can solve that with some duct tape and some caulking Your house is a disaster, huh? Need a guy whose a master with the plaster, huh? Let me be your stripper Taking off lacquer, no one does it quicker

I'm so handy, you already know I'll beat all price quotes, my hourly rates are low I'm so handy, you should call this pro I'm in the phone book and se habla Español It might seem crazy, wearing stripes and plaid I Instagram every meal I've had All my used liquor bottles are on display We can go to see a show but I'll make you pay

Wear my belt with suspenders and sandals with my socks (Because I'm tacky) Got some new glitter Uggs and lovely pink sequined Crocs (Because I'm tacky) Never let you forget some favor I did for you (Because I'm tacky) If you're okay with that, then, you might just be tacky, too

I meet some chick, ask her this and that Like 'Are you pregnant girl, or just really fat?' (what?) Well, now I'm dropping names almost constantly That's what Kanye West keeps telling me, here's why

Wear my Ed Hardy shirt with fluorescent orange pants (Because I'm tacky) Got my new resume it's printed in Comic Sans (Because I'm tacky) Think it's fun threatening waiters with a bad Yelp review (Because I'm tacky) If you think that's just fine, then, you're probably tacky, too

Bring me shame, can't nothing Bring me shame, I never know why Bring me shame, can't nothing Bring me shame, I said Bring me shame, can't nothing Bring me shame, it's pointless to try Bring me shame, can't nothing Bring me shame, I said

43 Bumper Stickers and a YOLO license plate (Because I'm tacky) Bring along my coupon book whenever I'm on a date (Because I'm tacky) Practice my twerking moves in line at the DMV (Because I'm tacky) Took the whole bowl of restaurant mints. Hey, it said they're free (Because I'm tacky) I get drunk at the bank And take off my shirt, at least (Because I'm tacky) I would live-tweet a funeral, take selfies with the deceased (Because I'm tacky) If I'm bit by a zombie, I'm probably not telling you (Because I'm tacky) If you don't think that's bad, guess what, then you're tacky, too

#weird al

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grapementos · 2 years

Text

dabi x reader

song: tv - billie eilish

tw: toxic relationships, unresolved angst, depression

numbness long overtook your still form, the once on-and-off dull ache in your hip long faded. surely you’d made an indention in your couch from just how long you’d been laying on your side, staring at but not quite watching the tv showing something or other on the news.

there were dried tear stains running horizontally down your face, a rather unflattering sight to anyone who might step in your pathetic excuse of a home. a dull sting throbbed in the whites of your puffy, momentarily unblinking eyes.

he’d left you again, leaving nothing behind but his memory. this time, he left while you were sleeping, whether it be because he couldn’t face you, or he just simply didn’t care. the former slightly eased the pain in your yet-again shattered heart.

it was a cycle, a loop: he begged and charmed his way back into your life, gave you everything you wanted, and then left again, leaving you to pick up the pieces of yourself. again, you fell for it. again, you thought things might be different.

despite your friends warning you, trying their hardest to plead with you to not do it to yourself again, you never listened. you could only assume they knew he’d left again by the way your phone had vibrated numerous times on the coffee table a few feet away from you.

you couldn’t be bothered to reassure them you were still breathing and not rocking back and forth in a corner of your home. they’d leave you eventually, you knew, just like dabi always did. you were a lost cause, a fool.

a fool in love

each time you were left alone, it went the same way: you cried for hours, days even. then came the bout of absolute nothingness—no emotions, no empathy, not a care for even your hygiene. and then you started to pick up the pieces, only to be shoved thirty steps back by dabi knocking on your door.

you were in your nothingness stage. your half-lidded eyes saw nothing beyond the unfocused blur of pixels on the tv and the reflection of headlights driving by through your window.

nothing. nothing.

no devastation, no pain, just dull numbness and a stuffed nose.

hours passed by and in that same position you stayed, not even moving to use the bathroom. that you’d regret, you knew—you’d been too close to kidney failure on a few other occasions.

your blank stare was unwavering, circulation faltering at your wrist joint thanks to the pressure of your face resting on it. if you moved to wipe at your nose, you’d feel the brush of your chapped lips on your hand, making you cringe.

finally, you grew uncomfortable enough to push yourself up to a sitting position, eyes squeezed shut at the rush of blood to much needed areas. phosphenes swarmed your vision when you tried to stand, making you stumble back down to a sitting position for a few more moments.

once you deemed yourself not at risk of passing out, you trudged your numb legs to your bathroom, daring to look at yourself in the mirror.

all you saw was an absolute wreck, eyes red and swollen, cheeks flushed, lips chapped, skin blotchy.

taking a deep breath, you turned the sink water on, splashing some cold, cold water on your face. taking a moment to pat your face dry, you squeezed some toothpaste onto your toothbrush, painfully maneuvering away from your chapped lips.

finally done with the most basic of hygienic care, you grabbed a bottled water from your kitchen and padded back to the bathroom, drinking about a fourth. it felt almost creamy against the built-up phlegm in your throat, your nose crinkling in disgust.

you grabbed your chapstick from your vanity, gently smoothing it over your lips that you hoped and prayed weren’t past the point of salvation.

lips moisturized, face somewhat clean, and teeth brushed, you looked at yourself again, taking your time to try to appreciate yourself.

you scanned over your nose, your eyes, the rosy pink hue of your cheeks, all of your flaws—and you smiled.

it was a weak but meaningful smile, your hands gripping the sides of the sink as you stared at the version of yourself you’d rebuilt a million times. strength is what you saw.

every ounce of that strength dissipated, however, as you nearly tripped over your own feet to answer the knock at the door.

reblogs are appreciated.

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silverskull · 1 year

Text

Wreck - by silverskull

New fic alert! Posted below the cut in its entirety, but as per ush, if you like this, I'd really appreciate an oul reblog or a kudo over on AO3! 💖

It had been an entirely run-of-the-mill chase right up until they were blindsided by the semi.

Tim felt his stomach drop into his boots as the images on the screen churned and crackled, pixels spinning and flashing in a digital scramble, the radios transmitting a high-pitched screech of ripping metal loudly throughout the briefing room. Somewhere behind him he heard McNeill gasp, saw Angela leap up from her chair in his peripheral vision, but his unblinking focus was on the screen in front of him.

On the video feed from the shopcams in the chase.

On Aaron and Lucy’s blurry and distorted outlines, now half concealed behind deflating airbags.

Neither of them were moving.

He could just see part of her shoulder, her right arm; Aaron’s head bowed low towards the camera, shattered glass glinting in his hair, his temple resting against the twisted mesh of the metal backseat divider, now bent and wedged between the two front seats. Tim had been in enough vehicle accidents to know the weakest points of the shop by heart, but even he had never seen such a mangled mess made of the interior, and some distant part of his brain was already composing an expletive-filled reprimand for Sergeant Walter and his careless lackeys in motor pool.

For now though, he was completely focused on Lucy’s still elbow, Nyla’s voice barely breaking through his thoughts as she called over and over again for either of the officers to respond to the radio. He hadn’t realised how close he’d moved to the screen until he felt Angela’s fingers wrap discreetly around his elbow, gently pulling him back far enough to notice that Aaron’s head was finally twitching, the sound of glass pinging across the speakers as the shards fell from his hair.

Aaron groaned, dust from the sand that had poured through their windows swirling from his shirt in small clouds as he wrestled himself free of his seatbelt.

“Officer Thorsen, do you copy?” Nyla’s voice was stern, demanding, and Tim could see Aaron shake himself into focus, reaching automatically for a speaker that had long since disappeared under the debris around him.

“Aaron, we can hear you, just talk to us.” Nyla softened her tone ever so slightly, and Aaron swallowed, pressing his fingers to a jagged cut along his eyebrow.

“Uh… I’m okay. I’m okay.” He shook his head, shoving his knuckles into his eyes and roughly scrubbing the dust out of his face. “I’m okay. I… I think we rolled.” He looked around himself blearily, blinking and absently swiping chunks of glass from the front of his shirt.

“Yes, Aaron, you rolled.” Nyla was firm again, walking around the desk with the radio held close to her mouth and her eyes fixed on the screen. “You rolled, and you’re okay, right? But now I need you to check on Lucy. Immediately.”

Angela had let go of Tim’s elbow, but stayed near him, her shoulder brushing against his arm as she breathed. He stepped away from her, moving up beside Nyla in front of the screen, where Aaron was shuffling awkwardly in his seat, fighting with the remains of the dashboard strewn across his lap as he tried to turn to face the driver’s seat.

Even through the dusty, staticy video, Tim could pinpoint the exact moment Aaron saw Lucy.

Thorsen froze in his seat, one hand wedged against the dash, the other against the metal cage, and his entire face dropped in utter dismay.

Nyla stole a quick glance at Tim before taking a deep breath and bringing the radio back to her mouth.

“Officer Thorsen, you need to check for a pulse.”

Aaron mumbled something low, repeating her words to himself as he scrambled upright, stretching his arm back and around the cage as he tried to reach Lucy. It was clearly a struggle, fragments of glass and metal tumbling around him as he knelt awkwardly on the seat. They still had no clear view of Lucy, but her shoulder shook as Aaron grasped it, extending his fingers beyond the view of the camera to find her neck.

For a few moments there was silence, Angela’s quiet steps the only sound in the briefing room as she edged back to Tim’s side. Aaron struggled for a minute longer, his face contorting and his eyes closing as he shifted against the metal barricade.

Then the screen froze.

Nyla raised the radio slightly; squinted at the screen; paused; then continued to speak.

“Officer Thorsen?”

No response

“Aaron, do you read me?”

No response.

Just as she took a step closer to the screen, all but ready to chew the radio, Tim saw Aaron release a breath, eyes still closed, and he realised that the screen had not, in fact, been frozen at all.

“Ma’am, who all is with you there?”

Thorsen had lowered his hand to Lucy’s shoulder, shaking out his fingers to get the blood flowing again.

“You’re on open comms, Officer Thorsen, broadcasting stationwide.” Despite the warning in Nyla’s voice, the undercurrent of panic layered through her words was evident.

“Is Sergeant Bradford there?” Aaron was blinking now, pushing his face hard against the barrier as he reached again for Lucy’s neck. Tim felt his blood run cold, Angela and Nyla’s worried glances in his direction doing nothing to ease the pounding of his heart. He stretched out an arm to seize the radio from Nyla, but she was too quick, switching hands and stepping out of his grasp.

“Yes, Aaron. He’s here. We’re all here.”

Thorsen closed his eyes again, shaking his head and taking short, strained breaths.

“It’s just… I can’t…” Aaron shook his head, dropping it to his chest, and Tim felt Angela again slip her fingers into his elbow, steadying this time, staying beside him and all but holding him upright.

“There’s no…” Aaron’s stuttering words were loud in the silence of the briefing room. “She’s not…”

Just as he thought his knees would give way, Tim saw Aaron’s head shoot up, eyes wide, a small gasp of surprise escaping his lips.

“There’s a pulse!” Aaron let out a quick burst of laughter and a soft ripple of relief rolled swiftly through the briefing room. “I found it - she has a pulse! Oh thank you lord…”

Tim sank onto the nearest desk, stabbing his knuckles into the centre of his forehead and restraining his breathing, blinking back tears he hadn’t noticed collecting at the corners of his eyes. He felt Angela’s hand warm on his shoulder, heard the hitch in her voice as she spoke quietly to him.

“She’s okay. She’s gonna be okay.”

Nyla was all business again, her voice steady as she passed instructions to Aaron, the wail of sirens breaking through the comms on the other side as first responders reached the scene.

Lucy would be rescued soon.

Lucy would be safe soon.

He had to be there.

***

Angela insisted on driving and Tim didn’t argue. His fingers felt itchy on the inside and his vision was unfocused, unbidden images of Lucy - injured, damaged, broken - manifesting in high-definition in his mind’s eye. He gripped the passenger’s seat of the shop the whole way to the scene just to keep his hands still, and while the drive felt like it took an eternity, he found he couldn't recall a single moment of the journey later on.

He was out of the car before Angela had even put it in park, stalking past a small throng of journalists and bystanders at the edge of the police line, not even bothering to show his badge to the officers waiting behind the yellow tape. Either they knew him, or they read the thunderclouds on his face because they let him pass without question, and he was almost beyond the first row of fire trucks before Angela finally caught up with him.

“Aaron!”

She called out at the same moment as she grabbed his elbow - again - and it took him a confused few seconds to realise that she was looking at the rear door of a nearby ambulance and not in fact addressing him.

Thorsen was sitting on the truck steps, wrapped in a silver emergency blanket and having his cuts attended to by a uniformed medic. He sat up straighter as Angela pulled Tim towards him, tugging the blanket closer around him and nodding thanks at the departing EMT.

“Detective Lopez. Sergeant Bradford.”

Angela waved away his formalities, shaking her head and frowning worriedly at him.

“How’re you feeling?” she asked, voice concerned and lips tight.

Thorsen nodded readlily, only a twitch in cheek belying his bravado.

“I’m fine ma’am. Mostly superficial, just some bruising.” He was massaging a sore spot on his chest, and glanced quickly at Tim before turning to look over his shoulder at the crash site. “Bailey’s over there now with the rescue team. They’re working-” Aaron’s eyes caught on Tim as he turned back, and he swallowed nervously. “They’re working on getting Lucy out.”

Tim heard Angela thank Thorsen, patting him lightly on the arm, and glancing briefly at Tim as they started to walk towards the centre of the activity. She still had her hand linked in his elbow, and he shrugged her off irritatedly, getting sick of the feeling of being in the spotlight. Whatever people knew - or thought they knew - all of this public mollycoddling was doing nothing for his anxiety, instead adding anger to the fire of fear burning furiously in the centre of his chest.

There were several fire trucks and ambulances, as well as more LAPD shops gathered haphazardly around Lucy’s vehicle, and it took them longer than he’d have liked to wind their way through both the vehicles and the bustle of first-responders.

At last, Bailey’s dishevelled hair and yellow jacket came into focus, and Tim started jogging towards her, Angela hot on his heels.

Bailey was on a short step ladder outside the driver’s door of the shop, grappling with the emergency lights on the roof, and blocking Lucy’s window from view. As they got closer, the extent of the damage became even clearer to Tim, his mouth drying out as he took it all in.

It was a wreck.

Every piece of glass had been smashed, gaping holes left open on all sides of the car, jagged metal yawning into the air like broken teeth. Lucy’s side had taken the full force of the collision with the semi, and even the reinforced steel of the bulletproof doors had crumpled like cardboard in the face of such a brutal pummelling.

The subsequent tumble had tested the limits of the roll bars, every pillar bent or twisted, paint and metal scratched and battered, the hood missing and the engine gently smoking under a thick layer of fire suppressant foam sprayed on by Bailey’s team.

The rear of the shop had hit something hard, crumpling into a wedge and forcing the central divider cage forward, mangling the back seats and scattering the contents of the trunk all over the asphalt. Fortunately, an officer was already cataloguing and gathering the weapons and ordnance from the war bags, removing them from the road and away from any sticky-fingered onlookers.

“Bailey. What can you tell us?” Angela’s voice rang clear above the hubbub, and Bailey turned to her, nodding a greeting as she stepped down from the ladder and handed the remains of the red and blues to another firefighter. She tucked a sweaty strand of her behind her ear, smudging a small line of dust along her cheek as she looked between Angela and Tim.

“It was a bad accident. Not gonna lie to you.”

Although she was still blocking Lucy from his view, Bailey was already rising in Tim’s estimation. He didn’t want to hear any more platitudes or half-truths. He needed to know what exactly was wrong, and how they could fix it.

“Aaron was able to climb out through the window, but there isn’t enough space left to pull Lucy from this side.” Bailey gestured behind herself, exhaling wearily and shaking her head. “There’s too much contorted metal for us to get her through any window, and the reinforced seat is great if you want to avoid a stabbing, but impossible to get through with our tools and the limited space in the rear.” She sighed again, dragging her forearm across her face, and finally moving to the side, giving Tim his first clear view of Lucy.

Her face was deathly pale, smudges of dust dark against her skin. She was remarkably injury-free, at least from what he could see; only small, angry cuts marring her cheek, eyebrow and chin, and a thin trickle of blood staining her lower lip. She was leaning against the remains of the door, hands slack in her lap, her chest rising almost imperceptibly with each shallow breath. Her pulse was thin and thready under his fingers, and he didn’t realise he had reached out for her at all until Bailey appeared quietly at his side.

“We need to get her on oxygen. We have to cut her out through the roof and it’s gonna get dusty.” She didn’t look at him, and she didn’t touch him, her gloved fingers latched onto the serrated edge of the window. “I promise you we’ll take care of her.”

He nodded, swallowing thickly, and moving his fingers from Lucy’s neck to her cheek, swiping a wisp of hair gently behind her ear. His hand lingered there for a moment; thumb brushing over the smooth skin of her cheekbone, fingers curled into the hair at the nape of her neck, imagining she was awake, and safe, and resting her chin into his palm by choice - not unconscious and locked in this all-too-real nightmare.

As he released her face and stepped back, carefully avoiding the torn metal around the edges of the door, he saw Bailey signal to another EMT, and soon the shop was swarmed with firefighters and equipment and machinery.

He had a passing knowledge of the machinery they used in these situations, but all he could see - all he could focus on - was Lucy.

Lucy - masked and breathing from an oxygen tank.

Lucy - shielded and shrouded by a flimsy folding kevlar plate.

Lucy - beneath the spinning blade of a giant saw, sparking and biting hungrily at the metal roof of the shop.

Angela gripped his elbow again, and this time her tense fingers told him it was just as much for her as for him.

***

The shrieking buzz of the saw gave way to the reluctant squeal of shearing metal as the firefighters pulled and tore at the roof above Lucy’s head. The shop was a hive of activity, yellow-clad workers milling around and about on all sides like a swarm of bees. Though he was unlikely to forget them in a hurry, they were sounds Tim would be happy never to hear again.

As soon as the roof was clear, Bailey was back on the ladder, clambering nimbly onto the remains of the hood and crouching low in front of Lucy. A burly EMT came up beside her, incongruously large hands gently snapping a plastic brace onto Lucy’s neck, while Bailey cut her free of the safety belt and the remains of the airbags.

Meanwhile, LAFD’s unexpectedly useful personnel hoist was rolled out again, little changed since the last time Tim had seen it at the abandoned house where Bailey had been imprisoned. It now sported a few additional harnesses, and, between them, Bailey and the EMT had Lucy looped into it and secured in short order. After a few minutes of tugging, testing and adjusting, Bailey stood high on the hood, blowing a shrill whistle through her fingers and waving a signal to the hoist operator.

On cue, the commotion around the scene came to a halt, silence descending over the gathered crowd as they stopped to watch the situation unfurl. Besides the hum of engines and the growl of generators, the high-pitched whirr of the winch was the only sound to be heard. That, and the glass crunching under the feet of the EMT as he and Bailey carefully pushed and pulled at the steadily winding ropes - and at Lucy.

She rose slowly, swaying slightly in the hoist, glass tinkling from her clothes and onto the remains of the shop below her. Her head sank low in the brace, cheeks soft, arms looped securely into the ropes, and she looked like she was only sleeping, rocked gently in the embrace of the thin sling. Bailey and the EMT stayed close, always keeping a hand on her and protecting her from the covetous maw of the metal surrounding her.

As Lucy’s feet drew clear of the roof and Bailey swirled a new single-fingered command in the air, Tim saw the bright yellow lines of a gurney being wheeled towards her. He followed, inching closer to the shop as the hoist turned slowly in the air and began to lower its precious cargo towards the ground.

Her feet had barely landed on the stretcher when Tim was beside her, reaching for her arm, her head, cradling her back as she descended onto the white sheet. He was faintly aware of Bailey whispering to the EMT, pulling back his protective arm and assuring him that Tim’s presence was permissible. He knew that Angela was somewhere behind him, keeping a watchful eye. He knew that he was in the way of the firefighters now removing the loops and latches of the harness. He knew all this, and yet.

And yet.

He couldn’t let go.

He held her hand as they unwound the woven ropes from her body. He brushed his fingers through her hair as they tied the belts and secured her onto the stretcher. He kept a grip on her ankle as they rolled her towards the ambulance, the legs of the cot clanking and folding noisily against the rear steps.

He looked back once, towards Angela, when he had climbed in after the EMTs.

She nodded, her eyes worried and her mouth a thin line.

The heart monitor gave one long beep, searching for the rhythm of Lucy’s heart, and the doors closed with a heavy rattle.

He slid up along the bench, eyes scanning every inch of her face, fingers wrapped tight around her arm, willing the machine into action.

…beep… … …beep… …beep…

***

Tim didn’t hate hospitals.

Hospitals were where miracles were performed.

Isabel was saved from a bullet; Lucy was brought back from the brink; baby Jackson was hauled pink and caterwauling into the world.

No, it wasn’t the hospitals Tim hated.

It was the coffee.

You’d think that in such a captive environment, some enterprising young LA barista would long since have set up some sort of orange-mocha-chip-frappucino outlet where a man could get at least a semi decent drip cup (extra caffeine) - but no. They managed to ruin even the simplest of expectations, ancient vending machines spitting out lukewarm, dusty muck into tiny wrinkled cups that he never managed not to spill.

The hours in the waiting room had bled one into another until he had completely lost track of time.

He remembered following the stretcher into the ER, his badge and uniform getting him a significant distance before he was stopped by a tiny, polite nurse. He’d walked circles into the linoleum of the dull waiting room until Angela appeared, somehow wielding his go-bag from the station and the last decent cup of coffee he remembered drinking.

She’d stayed by his side when the doctor came out, scanning the room and nodding when he saw Tim’s dark uniform. He made his way towards them, flipping over the thin pages on his clipboard and trailing his finger along the notes.

“You’re here for Officer Chen, I assume?” “Yes. She okay?” Tim’s mouth was dry and he didn’t have the mental capacity for social niceties.

“She’s… she’s stable.” The doctor nodded slowly, checking over the notes again before looking back at Tim and Angela. “She took quite a beating in the roll. She could be here a while. I don’t suppose you know if she has any family? Her ‘next of kin’ slot has been left blank on her medical file.”

“That’s me.” Tim knew his answer had been too quick when Angela shot him a look, her jaw popping open as her eyebrows furrowed. He blinked tightly, shuffling his feet and pointing loosely at the doctor’s clipboard. “I’m her medical proxy, I mean.”

The doctor glanced hesitantly between them, inspecting his forms and cross-checking it with Tim’s hastily-produced driver’s licence. When he was satisfied that they matched, he nodded, chewing on his lip and tapping his finger against the paper.

“Like I said, she suffered some serious cranial trauma. She has a greenstick fracture on her left ulna, she’s cracked her sixth and seventh rib on the right, and she’s sustained severe bruising all over, as well as mild lacerations on her exposed skin.” The doctor paused, glancing up at Tim and taking in a deep breath. “What we’re most concerned with is the severe brain injury.”

Tim felt his knees go weak again, and he stumbled into Angela’s shoulder where she caught him, holding onto him with one hand on his arm and another around his back.

“Brain injury?” he repeated, his voice tight with worry.

“Look, it’s not unheard of with accidents like this.” The doctor spoke gently, waving his hand in the air for Tim to remain calm. “We can see swelling on her CT scan, and she’s been unconscious since we admitted her. For now, I think the best thing we can do is keep her that way. Give her body time to heal.”

“Can we see her?” Angela asked after a pause, while Tim was still digesting the diagnosis, and he was once again reminded how glad he was to have someone like Angela Lopez on his team.

“I…” For a moment, the doctor hesitated, then shook his head quickly, motioning with his hand for them to follow him. “I don’t see why not. This way.”

They’d traipsed after him, the bleak corridors blending into one another through doorways and past trolleys until, finally, he left them standing outside a single ward, the lights dim and the monitors flashing, and Lucy - Lucy - wrapped in wires and tubes and thin hospital blankets, lying pale and motionless in the centre of the room.

He’d opened the door - at least, he assumed he had opened it - and ended up at her side, fingers trailing along her arm, her skin cool and pockmarked with tiny cuts, and her face filled his vision until it distorted into a warm, meaningless fuzz of peach and brown.

He could feel Angela’s hand on his back, steady even through the thick layer of his protective vest.

At some point she wedged a straight-backed chair behind his knees, forcing him to sit down and plonking his go-bag beside him.

Eventually, he slept.

***

Days passed, and people too.

Aaron was one of the first, followed swiftly by Nolan and Bailey.

Flowers began to pile up when Grey and Luna visited, and multiple plush teddies at the behest of Jack and Leah when their parents called by.

Tamara stayed overnight twice, working in visits around her college hours. Tim built her a camp bed out of scavenged hospital pillows and blankets, sleeping in it himself when she wasn’t there.

Genny came regularly, sending in packed food on the days she couldn’t make it, and texting him daily with updates on his nephews’ antics, or the latest LA celeb scandal - anything to make him laugh and take his mind off Lucy.

Which she probably knew was an impossible feat.

And to pass the time, Tim talked.

He talked to Lucy.

He talked to her about the food from Genny, or about Tamara’s courses (and his suspicions about that one classmate that appeared just slightly too frequently in her stories); he talked about Angela and Nyla’s latest cases, about Aaron and Celina’s attempts to avoid being Smitty’s test subjects for his chowder-flavoured-chip trial; he talked about Kojo and his arch-nemesis in doggy daycare - how they had to be sent to different rooms and scheduled for different playtimes just to keep the peace. He talked while he browsed his phone and while he ate his lunch; he talked after the doctors visited and when the nurses changed her IV; he talked while he walked in idle semi-circles around her bed, or knelt on the bench-slash-camp bed, gazing out the window.

And finally, one day, without warning, she responded.

“Oh my god, would you ever shut. up.”

Having imagined her voice so often in his head, it took Tim a few moments to link the strangled, scratchy words with the Lucy he was used to hearing every day, and when the penny finally dropped, he turned from the window in shock, his jaw hanging open and his eyes fixed on her drowsy form in the hospital bed.

“Wow. I didn’t actually think that would work.” She chuckled wheezily, grasping her ribs with her plastered arm and a pained wince.

He stepped down from where he knelt on the bench, half afraid to blink in case this was still all in his imagination, one hand twitching at his side with the desire to reach for her face, his steps hesitant yet inevitably drawn to her.

She frowned at him, her lips pulling down against the oxygen tube across her face, eyes scanning him from top to toe.

“Are you okay? You look… you look wrecked.”

He’d arrived at her side by then, and his hand reached out of its own volition, tracing over the loose waves of her hair and down the side of her cheek - rosier now, at last - to the crease of her dimples as she smiled softly up at him.

“You’re awake.” He could feel the smile stretching his own lips, his eyes smarting with the overwhelming sense of relief pouring through him at the sight of her awake and alert and affably insulting him like nothing had changed.

“Yeah… Have you been here all night?”

A laugh burst out of his throat, taking him by surprise, and he sank onto the mattress next to her blanketed legs, linking his hand with hers and curling a loose strand of her hair around his fingers.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ve been here all night.”

She narrowed her eyes, a small frown line creasing the centre of her forehead, but he shook his head at her, smiling and leaning up to kiss it away.

“Just doing my job.”

“Ah. So this is work, huh?” A puff of air along his neck let him know that she was amused, and he pulled back, drinking in the laughter in her eyes, the warm glow in her cheeks. He swallowed once, tamping down the stark memories of her pale and silent body at the crash site, reassuring himself of her luminous and living presence with him, here and now.

“What is it?” She frowned again, reaching up with her free hand to trace a line along the edge of his jaw. “What aren’t you telling me?” Her eyes widened suddenly and she dropped her hand into her lap, fear crossing her face as she struggled to sit up. “Is it Aaron? Oh god, is he hurt? Is he-”

“No, no, nothing like that.” Tim shushed her, pressing her shoulder gently back into the pillow. “Aaron’s fine. They caught the bad guys. No one else was hurt.”

She eyed him suspiciously, sinking slowly back into the bed. He consciously relaxed his shoulders, shook his head quickly, and tried again.

“Everything’s fine, I swear.”

There was a pause while she looked him up and down, eyes narrow again, before tipping her chin up haughtily.

“You know, you used to be a better liar.”

He laughed, a quiet breath more than a sound, squeezing her fingers a little more tightly.

“Never with you though.” He watched her face soften, her eyes big, and the beseeching twitch at the corner of her lips breaking through his last defences. He swallowed hard, the words sticking reluctantly in his throat. “I thought I’d lost you. Again.”

It didn’t seem possible, but her eyes widened even more, her mouth a small ‘o’ and her eyebrows arching in surprise and compassion.

And then she was reaching for him, gripping his shoulders and pulling him against her chest and down onto the bed with her. He fell into her easily, tangling one hand through her hair, the other wrapped securely around her waist. Her breast was soft and warm, and her heart beat strong and steady below his ear, each breath a solid reminder of her vital and living presence. She ran her fingers along his face, softly tracing the contours of his cheekbones and jaw, her plastered arm solid and firm across his ribs.

He wasn’t sure if he was crying, and if he was he didn’t care. She was murmuring hushed words into his hair, her lips vibrating with soft susurrations like kisses against his skin.

For the first time in days, Tim could finally breathe.

He let her hold him, his eyes fluttering closed against the rising light of dawn, and when Angela dropped by a few short hours later, she found them like that.

She smiled to herself, quietly leaving his coffee on the bedside table, retracing her steps back out and closing the door softly behind her.

The narrow window framed them perfectly, soft and sleeping, entirely wrapped up in one another and bathed in the warm glow of the morning sun.

Angela took a quick picture on her phone, envisioning a time in the not-too-distant future when it might be appreciated.

She grinned to herself, sipping on her own coffee, and striding briskly back to her car.

It was going to be a good day.

#chenford #chenford fic #my fic #THEY'RE DATING

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