#god i pray my tablets not fucked

[oldbirdwithnobrain]

one moment i was struggling to draw medic for my "meet the tf2 artist" thing, next thing you know i stumbled across a color palette and these happened:

was gonna draw more of the mercs, but my drawing tablet started acting up... sooo now i gotta troubleshoot that...yippee..

heres the color palette that started this detour:

#tf2 spy #tf2 #tf2 medic #god i pray my tablets not fucked #once my tablet stops bugging my “meet the artist” thing should quickly follow #i was almost done with the lineart when i got side tracked #i really like these colors <3 #so gonna use them more #tf2 art #tf2 fanart #fanart #my art #art #hah medic keeps changing #now i have a cartoony version i like just gotta perfect the simi reall one #hope youre all doing well #oldbird&co #blue

[urhoneycombwitch]

plan b

___

foreword: thank you to this anon, this was just the right amount of sitcom Spider-man pointing meme-ery that I needed. wrote this with husky!neighbor!Eddie since I thiiiink I’ve established that version of him is modern so hopefully this aligns with my made-up canon. lol.

wc: 1.9k

cw: weight mention (in the context of finding meds, no numbers used), embarrassment on R’s end of kink discussion, frenemies vibes between R and Eddie (they get under each other’s skin but in a hot way <3), Eddie is soft-domming in public, no actual smut but still +18 mdni

DISCLAIMER: Plan B can really fuck your shit up and shouldn’t necessarily be used when introducing new kinks. Please do your research and consult w/ a medical professional before using. Putting the fiction in fic with this one.

_____

Christ, there are too many options.

Your vision is swimming in the Family Planning aisle, fluorescent overheads of the CVS taking up residence in your left temple.

You press your fingertips against the spot, massaging gently as you pull different brands of boxes from the shelf to inspect the instructions.

This one says take within twenty-four hours, that might be- oh, shit, there’s a weight cap. Dammit. And this one’s… twice the price? For fucking why?

Frustrated, you shove the expensive thing back in place. The words on the blue label next in line catches your eye- Pre-Seed Fertility Lubricant- and you snap your hand away, as if scorched. Nope. Opposite of what you need. Christ. Pre-Seed?!

It’s almost giggle-worthy. You take out your phone, glancing up and down the aisle; the store is empty this late at night, just an older woman behind the front registers who had greeted you earlier with bored corporate formality, eyes fixed on her magazine.

Picture of Pre-Seed, taken. Check that one off the list. The only person who you’d want to share a laugh over text about this with is the one person who does not need to know why you’re in the goddamn Family Planning aisle at ten PM. On a Thursday.

At least, not yet. You lock your phone, pocketing it before zeroing in on the purple and green-themed Plan B that boasts One Tablet, One Step.

Although it’s pricier than some of the other morning-after pills, it’s the only one that you feel fully confident about buying. You give the box a little toss, feeling the next-to-nothing weight of it in your palm. Fifty bucks for a tiny pill, one that you may not even end up using- but you’ll be goddamned if you’re caught unprepared.

“Can I help you find anything?”

Your blood flashes cold, then hot, as you realize who the voice belongs to- attention focused elsewhere, you didn’t hear Eddie sidling up the aisle until now.

He’s leaning into his arm on the nearest shelf, grinning wolfishly at his own joke, chocolate eyes lit up at having found you here. He looks obscene- biceps and chest bulging at the stretched fabric of his t-shirt, hair unspooling dark curls from a low bun, black ink tattoos rippling over his bare forearms and peeking out from beneath his collar.

Honestly, you don’t know why he wasn’t stopped at the door by the woman on night shift. He’s bordering public indecency with those fitted Levi’s alone.

Fortunately the shock of hearing Eddie’s low voice is not enough to send the Plan B in your hand flying- too late to reshelve it without him seeing, you cling to it tighter, plastic creaking under your grip as you pray to every god ever that he doesn’t notice.

“Oh! Hey. Hi. Haha, very funny.” Well, that was smooth, but at least you said something comprehensible. “What’re you doing here?”

Eddie doesn’t seem to notice anything amiss, using his free arm to reach for a pack of condoms near your head- “Late night shopping. Stocking up for the weekend. Can’t seem to keep these around, seeing as I’m being fucked out of house and home.”

”Well… apartment,” you correct, heart leaping at the smile lines that jump around Eddie’s eyes. This is good, maybe you can just keep him talking and find a second to shove the Plan B into a random spot or perhaps launch it into the sun-

Nope, too late. Mid-crinkle, Eddie’s eyes drop to the package in your hand, and you watch his face drop as he processes multiple trains of thought at once.

“Oh, shit. Is that… did we…?”

There’s a pinch between his dark brows, likely running through the last few weeks of your hookups (which have all been protected) and trying to do the mental math; you shake your head, trying to stammer through the flush of embarrassment that’s overtaking your system.

“No, it’s not- not from us. Not from you. I mean…” you trail off, shifting uncomfortably from one sneaker to the other as words hit a jam in your throat.

Eddie’s in a full frown now, pushing off the shelf, standing to his full height, confusion and hurt seeping into his expression, voice quiet and pitched deep- “Is it from someone else?”

“Oh my god.” This was a nightmare, right? You’d like to wake up now. “No, no, not from anyone else. It’s-”

A sharp exhale, a shake of your head, and the words loosen all at once- “I was gonna get it for us, for me, for this weekend, if you wanted to give me a reason to use it.”

Eddie goes as still as you’ve ever seen him before, fingers stopped in their usual constant tapping, blinking at the box in your hands.

His face smooths.

Then he smiles.

Your stomach flips.

Eddie slides the condoms back into the wrong spot, not bothering to look as he leans in close enough for you to smell the spice of his cologne as he says in a sex-dipped timbre: “Well if you wanted me to fill you up with my cum, why didn’t you just say so?”

A horrified, awkward squawk escapes before you can bite it back; your head whips down the aisle to make sure no one else was within earshot of his dirty mouth as you blindly shove the Plan B away, deep into a shelf. “Oh my god. Jesus christ.”

”Eddie is just fine,” he responds mildly, the cool demeanor to your rapidly heating one as his grin simmers wicked between dimpled cheeks.

“Forget it,” you start, shaking your head and making to brush past, embarrassment flooding in hot, “Just forget-”

Eddie catches you by the elbow, effectively locking you in place with a single move, but he’s not looking at you; with his free hand, he snaps up the slightly crumpled box and scans the words.

“Y’think one will be enough?”

The flood subsides, gives you pause enough to stutter out, “W-what?”

Eddie’s fingers flex on your arm. He turns the box over in his big hand, rings glinting. “We’d better get two. Just in case.”

Your skin feels the impression of his palm even after he lets go, like a Polaroid in rapid reverse as he grabs a second box, warmth fading fast from your skin. “I don’t think- I mean, that’s not how they work, I should probably find a more permanent sol-”

“Just for the weekend.” His eyes are back on you now, self-satisfied smirk giving way to something darker, more intense. “Yeah?”

A shiver casts goosebumps down the length of your body. He’s goddamn toying with you, in the middle of a fucking CVS. Despite your flare of irritation, you nod, voice nearly a croak as you echo, “Yeah.”

The grin lights up his face again. “Good girl.”

Eddie doesn’t give you time to react to this (verbally, anyways- your cunt is most certainly responding to the praise despite your best efforts to remain unaffected), using one large hand to hold both boxes and another to press at the small of your back, leading you down the aisle.

Truthfully, you’re grateful for the help (regardless of his dominance-based tendencies that don’t usually get you this easy); based on the ringing in your ears, you’re doubtful of your own ability to navigate the maze of aisles.

Eddie walks you both to the front register, and you watch as if outside of your own body while the cashier scans the barcodes and Eddie swipes his card.

He pockets the receipt, slides a finger through the handles of the plastic bag, and holds it out between your bodies. Right in front of the goddamn cashier.

”For you.”

This brings you back to yourself, a bit, mortification giving way to annoyance (a much more useful emotion in this scenario), and you snatch it to your chest. It’s your turn to grab Eddie’s elbow, half-dragging him towards the exit.

“Come again soon,” the cashier calls, still in monotone.

So close. You’re less than a yard away from the sliding glass doors that would have swallowed Eddie’s reply- but as it stands, he gets in one last cheerful wave, an award-winning, dimple-charmed smile to match his bright response.

“She will!”

Damn him. You give a final tug and you’re both out in the parking lot, glass doors closing automatically with a whoosh behind you, cool night air kissing at your cheeks.

”Seriously?” You’re mature enough to recognize that your anger is misplaced, adrenaline-fueled, but that doesn’t stop you from whirling on Eddie, giving his shoulder a sharp shove that (unfortunately, tantalizingly) doesn’t move him an inch. “I can never return to this fucking store. Thanks for that.”

Eddie really doesn’t help his case, grin turned shit-eating as he rustles through his various pockets for his pack of cigarettes- “Careful, sweetheart- you know how hot and bothered I get when you’re mad.”

”Unbelievable.” You turn on a swift heel, slipping the bag loops up your arm to dig for your keys. “You just got me blacklisted from our local drugstore and you don’t even care.”

There’s the snick of a lighter behind you, while your car a few spaces down chirrups and blinks in response to the furious press of your fob’s unlock button.

Eddie chuckles, sardonic and unsympathetic. “Too bad this is the only CVS in the whole world. I think you’ll live, princess.”

Ignoring this, you stomp towards your car, petulant, bag rustling; the door is half-open when Eddie calls, “So, are you coming over tonight, or what?”

“Obviously!”

The door slams with more force than you intend, sound ricocheting across the lot.

From the respite of your tinted windows, you watch as a streetlamp-haloed Eddie takes a drag from a cigarette, smoke drifting thick around a hazy visage of the hottest man alive. (Maybe you’re a touch biased. But your opinion is based on personal accounts, so fuck the naysayers.)

He tips his head back to look at the stars, pale column of throat illuminated- with a flush of realization, you scoff. He’s putting on a show for you.

Two can play, you think, driving your seatbelt into place with a click. But first I’m gonna have to make a stop at home. Namely for new undies.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #husky!neighbor!Eddie #husky!neighbor!eddie x reader #eddie x reader

[chaosandmarigolds]

Among The Bullets

Chapter One, Part 2.

Summary: You're a transfer mechanic for a task force which you know nothing about, and while trying to figure out your standing with each of the members you begin to realize you may be over your head. (Evental romance, bear with me. Simon doesn’t know how to flirt but he’s trying ok??)

On your schedule, which you were fully planning on ditching once you got your footing, you had a meeting with the Captain of the team before dinner. Made sense in your mind, however, what didn’t make sense was how it didn’t tell you where to meet him- you assumed his office? Did he have an office? How would find said office within the labyrinth of rooms?  So, once again you found yourself very awkwardly standing alone within the bustling crowd, head bowed you looked over the tablet for any missing information. 

You still hadn’t eaten, your eyes were pleading for a moment of closure and your muscles ached for something other than a caffeine-dense drink; yet, there were things that needed to get done and once those things were done would be able to go on with your life. So, you ignored the lightheaded feeling, the grumbling of your stomach, and the throbbing headache, and was snapped back into reality by someone nudging your boot- in all fairness you knew it was innocent but you, with the past forty or so hours being a blur, were already high strung so with a spin on the heel you turned to face the person, fully prepared to bite their head off and tell them to watch where they were going. 

“For fucks sake man, can’t you’ fuckin-” Your words died on your tongue as you saw another one of the team members (who you weren’t technically supposed to know who they were, but twenty minutes alone in a military room full of computers and a lot of old guys with generic passwords of their wives names seemed too easy) if you remembered correctly this ones name was John or something, as was the Captains, but you made a mental note because this one had a nickname you found hilarious: Soap. A sergeant, above you nonetheless, only taller than you by two or so inches, but could throw your weight around. 

Well. If this was rock bottom then you would certainly take the chance to start crawling up, so you nod hello and once again hold out for him to take, this time (unlike the very mean Lieutant Riley) he took it. A firm grip as you spoke, introducing yourself, and then you clear your throat as you pull your hand away. He seemed nice, seeming to just read you while you began to ramble, “I’m a consult for the next assignment, from the engineering and mechanics…department or…something, sorry-um, I am looking for a Captain John Price, do you happen-”

“Oi, the Cap’n of’ic is-” 

“Oh my God.” The words just spilled from your mouth and if you had zero self-control you would've slapped your hand over your mouth to shut yourself up, but you did so you then began to explain your sudden interruption as he stared at you, “I- You- your voice-I just-I, I wasn’t expect-” His eyes were wide as you went on and you gulp down your embarrassment and motion to him,  “I’m so sorry, I’m sorry- You, you were saying?”

The soldier seemed to be debating if he wanted to be offended or not but he ultimately let out a laugh, “Funny, ‘er funny, bonnie. Cm’on ‘ll take ya.” 

Funny? Well, you would take funny over having another military man out for your blood, so with a small nod you follow beside him, the silence between you both seemed to be deafening until he then spoke, a small nudge to your arm (it almost sent you to the ground but you’re praying that he didn’t notice that part). 

“Gotta be nice to th’ ol’ man, got-chit?” 

You blink a few times to let the words soak in and with a sharp breath you laugh briefly, “I…he’s thirty 37? I highly doubt that’s old, well if he’s old I’m middle-aged-.” 

John gave you a look and then spoke, “Ho’ you know tha?” 

Oh, again with the information…. “Educated guess?” 

“Off what?” 

“The..” can’t say pictures, definitely can’t see you saw all of their medical files during your twenty-minute deep dive, it would be a lie to see you’ve met the man before so you just motion around vaguely, “Vibes. Mmhm, the vibes, just…I knew. From….” He was just watching you, it made your stomach turn and somehow you couldn’t keep your mouth shut, “The vibes.”

John nodded and then knocked on the door, shoving his hands in his pockets and when the door opened he looked to the Captain, “You foun’ us a witch.”

“No-” You try to correct the sergeant but he turns and begins to walk away from you, leaving you with what was going to be your death because now you have a Lieutenant who just hated your guts for no reason and now you have a sergeant who thinks you're a witch. Oh the stories you would be going home with, so you take a breath and straighten your posture, looking at the captain. 

From what you read up on Captain John Price you knew about two things: one, he got his rank for a good reason, and two: he likes smoking (his medical files said so) However, when you looked up at him and held out your hand for him to shake he looked bit too nice for your liking, he gave the impression of an older brother, someone nice, as nice as any person can be within the military- which would be a staggering change of pace from the other people you’ve met thus far, so with a shining smile and shake of the hand your introduce yourself and follow him into the office. 

“Forgive Johnny,” Price begins and motions for you to sit down in one of the not-so-comfortable-looking chairs across from his desk, “He’s…well, you see. He means well.” 

“Ah,” You fake understanding and nod as you obey and sit down, hands neatly placed in your lap and your eyes quickly scan the area around you,  “No, yeah, Sergeant MacTavish seem-” 

“Mmm?” 

Your gaze snaps back to the Captain, panic rushing your bloodstream as you realize you did it again, the third time in the past two hours. So you choose to play dumb, pulling your lips together in a line and tiling your head, praying that your doe eyes were believable (they were, just not to him, and certainly not at that moment)  “Yes, sir?” 

There seemed to be a moment of silence before Price motioned to the tablet that sat in your grasp, “Basic information you’ll need will be downloaded at 22 hundred, no need to break any laws for names.” 

A small gulp and you look down at the tablet which you had spent the last ten minutes fiddling with, the edges of the leather cover already frayed, “I see, is there-” 

“The mechanic on base was killed a few days back, which is why you were picked up early. You’ll also receive his daily tasks and his reports, work is a bit clogged so I suggest you geta jump onit..”

As much as you tried to keep your expression unfazed by the news that the person who used to have your job is now dead, the way your eyes went slightly wide was a good indicator and you cleared your throat a sound coming from you being more like a nervous laugh, “Th…The head mechanic? How many-” 

“Just you.” 

What. There had to be at least a hundred trucks in that garage and then the planes upon that, the helicopters, all on one person? You had to hold back an audible laugh as you tried to read his expression because that had to be a joke. It had to be a joke. Sure, you were the best of your trade that even the military wanted to trade you for other things to help other world militaries and yeah you were good at what you did but you…a sum of 178 vehicles? That would be a stretch, and that was only if it was basic maintenance- not war-run vehicles that were sure to have a plethora of things wrong with them. 

When you realize he was dead serious your face falls from the polite half-smile you had and into one of mild annoyance, scoffing, “You do realize I’m not a superhero right? Can’t multiply myself?”

Price seemed entertained by your snippy words returning with a stern nod and his words harsher, he knew you didn’t understand ranks or anything along that besides a very basic ‘be polite’ standpoint, after all, you essitantally worked for yourself for the majority of your life and any person who held a higher rank most like respected you so…he might as well go a bit easy on you, yet it didn’t stop his tone being bitter, “Be respectful, and I assumed so.”

Okay, you didn’t mean to be disrespectful, so that was on you You direct your gaze to your lap and let out a huff of air, “I apologize, sir. However, I am just one person there is no earthly way I can complete what I assume to be a list of daily tasks on over seven hundred vehicles within a twenty-four-hour frame, if I had a second pair then perhaps, I am fully aware of my limits and this is beyond them. I can maybe complete a third of what you expect me to do within a twenty-four-hour window, much less if you expect me to keep to a twelve-hour shift…sir.” 

A stiff silence followed by a gruff laugh, nudging a sheet of paper over to you, and by the look on his face he could tell the memory attached to it was less than pleasant, “Good communicator, they had that underlined in your file. Along with that they had your mission from Snezhihnsk. You were able to reverse engineer twenty-four foreign trucks within ten minutes, and from what the General said is true…those things were no more than scrap metal.”  

It would be a lie if you didn’t remember that day, it would be a lie if you wished you could forget it as well. Barely twenty, new to the field, new to everything- you were still in college, yet you had been picked up from your dorm and shipped to Russia, being told that you would go with these soldiers and that your own job was to take a piece of a machine they needed to be demolished. Needless to say, that mission went sideways, found some insane laboratory, and saved the inmates, or that's what you like to believe…After you fixed the trucks there was a bombing and everything else was a blur. You preferred to not think about that day, and you hope he would catch onto that. 

“Adrenaline makes the body do some pretty insane things, sir.”

“Then I suggest you find a way to get a dose of it, the list of tasks and maintenance requests are already on the tablet.” He watched you nod and move to stand up however, he preferred to end the meeting with you note being salty about everything so he chose to speak again, “How do you like the barracks, don’t mind sharin do ya?”

Your breath catches in your throat and you look to the captain, confused by the words, you had been given your own room, well more like an office, but it had a sofa bed. So you tilt your head, “Lieutenant Riley took me to a room, said that’s where I would be staying.” 

Price processed the words for a moment, “37A?”

You falter for a moment as you try and remember the room number as you move to stand facing him, “Yes, sir.” 

“I see, my mistake then,” It wasn’t, he knew what the room used to be and more importantly who it was. “Thought it was still used as office.” 

A small pause and then you nod your head, “I better go get started.” 

“Dismissed.”

; 

“And…why haven’t I seen her? I wanna see her.” Kyle questioned Johnny as he followed him as they walked to the table, nice and tucked away in the corner of the mess hall. Of course, he was the last one who heard of the new consult, and it being a female piqued his interest all the more, it was a rare day when they would see female soldiers on this base, so he was especially interested in seeing how a civilian would fit in. However, Johnny was giving him vague words like ‘she’s nice’ or ‘I like her jus’ fine’ meanwhile Simon seemed to just be staring at the door, waiting for something. 

Johnny flashes Kyle a beaming smile and sits down, looking over the tray of food which he didn’t truly find appealing but it would be alright he supposed, “An’ you will, L.T said she’ gunna join us for dinner.” 

To that news Kyle frowned even more and grabbed his cup, “Ghost met her to? How is that fair?”

“Eh!” Johnny snipped back at his buddy, “I foun’ her lookin loss as a pup, L.T was ‘er welcome, maybe if ya did ‘er job ‘stead of holin up ya woulda gotten ta’ see ‘er.” 

Kyle looked at Simon and then back to Johnny, waiting for one of them to say that was a joke and it was actually the other way around because if Simon welcomed the consult then it would be reasonable to assume they wouldn’t actually have a consult and that the person had run away, he would have. Well…no, he would’ve stayed to spite him, either way, he wouldn’t be shocked if the next morning they would have some other mechanic wandering the halls. So, after a few moments of silence and neither of them broke into laughter over the joke he let his mouth go agape, “You’re fuckin with me, Ghost was the welcome wagon. Scared shitless is what she was!” 

Among other things they were pretending didn’t happen Kyle added that he pretended to not notice Simon’s glare over to him on the remark and then sat up straight. Simon looks down at his watch and then makes a mental note that you must just be late to everything, because it was twenty after what he had told you- or rather your schedule- to be there for dinner, and he wasn’t exactly in the mood to wait around. Well, either you were late for everything or you had aptly passed out as soon as he left you- yet that would go along with Johnny’s claim that he had found you standing in some obscure spot, making fun of his accent, and then following him to Price’s office. So maybe you went to sleep after that? 

Either way, he wanted to be angry with you for that, it was unprofessional and bluntly very rude, but you did loot tried when he saw you get off the carrier, and you seemed worn slick just by the way you held yourself, eyes with dark circles and your body moved with each breath. You needed rest, so a small part of him seemed to be content with that notion, if not pleased- purely because the mission needed your undivided attention and he did not have time to catch you up on briefings and help you in more ways than what he has to do. No other reason. 

Conversation seemed to die down as minutes wore on and after about fifteen more Simon had resigned to his original assumption, you had fallen asleep and so that meant he would have to go to his-your room and wake you up. So without a word being spoken to Johnny or Kyle he stands up and walks to the room, which was only about two or so minutes, and it would’ve been less if some stupid idiot of a rookie had gotten out of his way in a timely manner. So, when he did reach the room he knocked on the door, waited for a few moments, and then tried again, this time being greeted by you peeking out from behind the door and then flashing a smile up at him. 

“Lieutenant Riley! I’m sorry about dinner, I had to come back here after my meeting with the captain and I needed to change into-” Your words falter off as you open the door more and vaguely motion to the ruined pair of cargos and black teeshirt (black so no one would see the mess of stains on it),  in your hand you held a five-hour energy shot and in the other an energy drink you found within a vending machine somewhere, “This. Is…Is there something you need help with?” 

It took him a millionth of a second to realize what you were doing, and he shakes his head, “You ‘ere late.” That wasn’t enough because you just nodded and then picked up a small tote bag, filled with what he assumed to be tools judging by the sound- which raised the question of why you didn’t have toolbox but he was going to leave that be for the moment and he…for some reason, found himself speaking again, stepping aside so you can walk out of the room as he did, “Ya met Johnny.” 

With a bite of the tongue, you look up at the Lieutenant as you walk down the hallway and to the garage, tablet sprayed across your hand and the list pulled up for a refresher, so as you walk you nod, “Yessir, he seems very nice.” Simon narrowed his gaze on the ground for a moment as he thought about what you said, which did align to some degree with what he knew about Johnny but not quite right, so he looked at you, “Is that so?” 

“Oh, no, he’s…very pleasant.” You mutter out, eyes going across the hangar to spot what you assumed to be the mechanic's workbench, tucked away in a neat corner, and an assortment of tools and places for things to be placed, as well as the control panel for the garage doors, so you pick up your speed. Finishing off the remainder of the energy drink and tossing it in the trash can as you set your bag down. Staring at the list that shined up at you the cursed tablet as you ran your hands down your face, stretching the skin with a grumble. 

For the time you started at the list, you seemed to forget the Lieutenant was nearby, and when you did finally remember you spun around, leaning against the bench and crossing your arms, blinking the fatigue away from your eyes and plastering a faux smile on your lips, “Again, Lieutenant Riley, what can I do for you?’ 

“What do ya on ‘yer hands?” 

“Checkups.” You chirp, and then to his eyes narrowing from the hidden holes of the mask you go on, “Routine maintenance, plus some since the last is…dead.” 

“Mm, Rusty, poor fellow.”

A stifled laugh and then you bring your hand to your mouth to keep yourself from laughing, it wasn’t that funny it wasn’t funny at all actually and you felt like a horrible human for even chuckling, but you were exhausted and- “Rusty?” You take a deep breath to keep your laughter at bay and you gulp down, “Your mechanic's name was ‘Rusty’??” 

“It was Robert actually.” 

You did your best to stop laughing and gulp down the remainder of the giggles that threatened to interrupt your words and you cross your arms tightly over your chest again, “Mmmm, poor Robert.” 

“Quite. Well, ‘ll leave ya to it.” 

Odd man, you mentally quipped to yourself and then watched him walk off, not waiting too long before turning back to the workbench, within the next forty-eight hours you had to perform eighty-nine maintenance checkups, seven of which as ‘odd sounds’ coming from them and sixteen others who had ‘severe shell damage which affects the ability to steer’. Then you had to get working on the jets- less of your forte but you knew enough to handle yourself and then the helicopters, which again was less than you commonplace but you were able to get the job done.It was going to be a very long time. 

However, you then spent two hours figuring out where everything was, how to get the trucks there for you to work on and then how on earth this Rusty man had his files and tools organized, it was all like a hen house, everything everywhere. So, at the moment when the sun began to set you were pushing a crate across the garage, it was filled with parts, and for some reason, the idiot thought it was a good idea for it to be where all of the plane tools were when they were car parts but… You were trying to refrain from mentally scolding a dead man. 

The crate has at least two hundred pounds of metal so when you got it to the spot you wanted you slumped to the ground heaving for air and leaning your head against the wooden box, waiting for a long moment before you let yourself close your eyes for a moment, and it was truly only a moment because you opened them when you heard someone stands in front of you. With a small breath you crane your neck up to see the person, another solider, another person on the team, so you push yourself up to stand as you introduce yourself, once again, “Hi, I’m sorry, resting my eyes- can I help you S-” 

No, don’t make the same mistake again so you end up clearing your throat, the man giving you a sweet smile,  as he let your hand,  “Gaz.” 

That’s not his name, his nickname, yes so you had to bite back your urge to correct him on his own name, so with a clear of the throat you straightened your posture, “Nice to meet you, can I do anything for you?”

“No, no, just wanted to make an’ introduction.” Kyle spoke as he took a short step away and then motioned to the newly reorganized space, “Nesting?”

With a glare, you stifle a laugh and shrug your shoulders, “No. Just…if you do a job, do it to the best of your abilities, you know?” 

Kyle nods as if not believing a word you said, “Gotcha. Well, I wanted to say hi and make sure you weren’t too shaken up by Ghost.” 

It took you a moment of dumbly staring at an obscure tool as you tried to figure out who he was talking about when it clicked, you looked to the sergeant, “Liuetant Riley! Uh,” you laugh and run a hand through your hair, leaving it on the nape of your neck for a moment, “He…he’s a little scary sure, but he seems kind.” A lie through the skin of your teeth, the Lieutenant somewhat terrified you, and he did not seem kind if anything he seemed beyond condescending to everything you did thus far.

“Mmm,” Kyle seemed to not believe your words again and then patted your shoulder, “Well, goodnight, girly.” 

That triggered something, and it made you a bit sick that it did but blood ran hot for a second. You quickly bite back by saying your name, full name and everything, not leaving out the middle and making sure the last held a nice dose of venom to it, making the sergeant turn around to face you with a confused look on his expression. So you say your name again, “That’s my name, not ‘girly’ not ‘miss’, not ‘kiddo’ not ‘lass’ not ‘bonnie’ or whatever the fuck he called me, my name.” 

There was a stiff silence and you let out a huff of air, sighing, drooping your shoulders, “Oh god, I’m sorry, I’m sorry- I’m tired, I…shouldn’t have snapped at you, you…you’ve been nothing but kind, I-” 

Kyle says your name to tell you to shush up, “I apologize, you have a name, I’ll be sure to use it.”

A small smile appears on your lips and you nod, “Thank you, sir.” 

“Don’t…no, don’t call me that, Gaz, call me Gaz.” 

You laugh at his return and put your hands in your pockets, “Kay, you call me by my name and I call you by yours, that sounds like a pretty fair deal to me.” With a smile still on your expression you say your goodnights and then stand still for a moment, looking down at your boots as you think, this Gaz character was actually pleasant, he seemed nice to where you wouldn’t have to lie when asked about him. 

After a few minutes you turn around and walk back to the workbench, everything as you put it, tablet turned off but leaning against an out-of-use carburetor and everything seems just so. To the sight you were content, because that meant you could get started on the mountain of tasks you had lined up, and you looked over the scene again, grabbing your gloves but faltering when you saw the flipphone that had been sitting beneath it. 

They had made such a point to take your phone, ensuring no outside contact.

So you look around the hangar again, yet, because of the time there is close to no one there, you even peek out the door into the darkness of the airfield. Yet again, nothing. 

You stare at the piece of technology for a moment and it then begins to buzz, but only twice, indicating you got a message- well not you, but the phone did.

Hesitantly you reach to grab it, flipping it open, being met with a simple message- 

Awaiting orders, prepared to receive? 

Another look around the hangar and you quickly type a response.

Yes.

(Comments and feedback make my day! Thank you for reading!)

#simon riley imagine #simon riley x you #simon riley fanfic #simon ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost imagine #ghost call of duty #johnny mactavish #coco’s chaos <3 #johnny cod #cod fluff #call of duty mw3 #call of duty #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick #cod imagine #john soap mactavish #john price #cod john price #simon riley x female reader #x female!reader

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

104/150 with lethal company?

104) I can hear it calling my name

.........

[Y/n], January 29th, [Log 001]

---I'm afraid this will be my last log. So I'm keeping this encrypted.

Everyone's gone, but I'm still here. And I'm terrified. We started on this job as strangers, and we became family. Now I'm all alone because of a stupid mask. A piece of scrap we should've just sold off.

But he thought it would be funny to wear. I don't blame him. He was always a jokester, willing to do anything to turn a frown upside down and make light of our dreary trips. I know he didn't mean to hurt us. He thought it was harmless. Honest to god we thought so too.

Until he started vomiting blood and tried grabbing me. He tore off my helmet, along with my tracker, but I managed to get away. I still don't know how. But I wish I was smarter about it, because I got lost.

Then I heard the ship's engines.

They must've thought I was dead. Or maybe they all died and the autopilot kicked in. I'm not sure. I don't even know the current time. But what I do know is that I'm stuck here now. Possibly forever. I could make an SOS but that monster is still outside. I had to barricade myself in this storage room and wait until it goes away.

It keeps knocking. I can hear it calling my name. But I know it's not him.

To anyone who reads this, don't pick up the porcelain masks. They aren't worth shit. It'll tempt you to put it on. Don't. You'll find better loot elsewhere. If you see anyone already wearing it, kill them. Stun them. Run. Whatever. Just don't let it take you.

And if you see me wearing it, put me out of my misery. I promise I'll understand---

Finishing what would likely be your final log, you sighed and slumped back against the wall, letting the tablet slip from your hands.

You don't know how long you've been stuck here--whether it's been hours or days.

But all you know is that the Masked on the other side of the door hasn't left. It was using your coworker's corpse, mimicking his voice as it pounded on the steel and tried convincing you to let it in, even shattering the window. For some reason it refused to leave you alone, and kept begging and begging until it began screaming unintelligently...

That would go on and on until eventually it would cease, weakly clawing at the door, only to rinse and repeat once it rested its voice.

You were starving, trying your best to ration the jar of pickles you were luckily able to find in this storage room.

Unfortunately, that's as far as your luck will go at this point. They were sour and made you want to vomit every time you ate one. But while you didn't want starvation to take your life, you weren't exactly sure how you really wanted to go out instead.

It sure as hell wasn't gonna be from that bastard who took away your friends.

"It's clear....all clear......come on out....the ship is leaving..leave....out.....COME OUT..!! COME OUT!! COMEOUTCOMEOUT-!!"

With your heart hammering in your chest, you curled up and covered your ears, squeezing both eyes shut. 'Fuck, it's losing its mind again...this is a nightmare..why did I ever take this job?' You tried not to focus on the screams so much, and instead prayed for some kind of miracle.

But in space, would anyone really hear your prayers?

Yet somebody must have, because the screaming abruptly stopped a minute later, being replaced by the sounds of heavy thumping and growling drawing near.

You only knew one other alien creature that made those.

And you knew it was pissed off.

Getting up and backing away from the door, you fearfully clutched a stop sign as you heard a series of terrified shrieks, roars, slamming and crashing sounds....before silence followed, save for the low growls you heard earlier and chewing noises.

Cautiously, you went back over and pushed aside one of the things covering up the window, and the sight on the other side was quite nauseating:

The Thumper was hovering over the Masked's body, teeth covered in blood and flesh as it tore into it, clearly wanting to savor this midnight snack.. But eventually it decided to drag the rest of the corpse away and to another part of the facility, only leaving behind a few shattered fragments of white dirty porcelain.

You couldn't believe it.

You were actually happy that a Thumper, of all things, saved your skin.

But you sure as hell didn't want it coming back for a second lunch. Now was your window of opportunity to get out of here. The adrenaline pumping through your veins was the only reason you were able to grab your loot and book it out of that storage room, being careful not to run into that Thumper again.

At least now you could go outside and (hopefully) send an S.O.S.

#saw this an immediately thought of the masked/mimics #clanask #lethal company x reader #lc x reader #lethal company masked #lethal company thumper #angst/horror prompt

[thewriterg]

𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐳𝐳𝐳𝐬

pairing(s); Leon Kennedy x fem!reader, officer!leon x chief!reader

summary; there was a case that called for some of your best officers out of town and of course you had to bunk with one of your most hard headed recruits of them all leon kennedy —kinktober day; 24—

word count; 1.6k

warning(s); somnophilia, power kink?, reader is an iPad kid for like 5 min, abb riding, degrading, pet names, kisses, and language

A/n:—GIFs; @megamyceted & @eurodynamic— R4 is probably my fav game rn after Silent Hill & Mk1 🤸🏾‍♀️

“I called in for eight rooms there’s no reason there shouldn’t be eight rooms” You hissed at the Manager of the motel the officers giving the man pity from their position in the makeshift lobby travel bags in their hold or resting on your back and Leon whistled lowly to himself which his colleagues would assume was in relief that the heat was finally off himself for once in his career you were hard on him to say the least

He could admit that sometime he could be a little reckless on a case in the field and when he did instead of ripping him a new one like you did everyone else at their personal desks in front of everyone you called him into your office some said it was your way of showing mercy others say that they’d rather take the berating at their desk in front of everyone like usual then be with the ‘final boss’ alone but they all came to one thing to agree on

The blonde got it the worst

All of your officers were fairly new and inexperienced but your older ones knew better and if they fucked up god hellfire sounded like making a snow angel compared to your wrath and Leon wasn’t stupid by any means he knew you gave the rookies a little more leeway but you still didn’t shove a silver spoon up their mouths and it was appreciative disciplined care is what he would call it

“There’s been a problem with housing arrangements me and another person will have to share a room” The blonde was practically crossing his fingers at the opportunity begging mentally please please please choose him while the rest of them prayed to any god that was out there to block the offer coming their way and it was no sweat of the mans back if his competition dropped out the race god if he found your your private bereavement intimate sleeping in the same room as you would be a fucking honeymoon

“Kennedy you’re with me” You declared while he gave you a stoic nod in response even if his his face was warming up and his stomach dropping at the thought of having your attention, being in your presence something that was much more important and meaningful than the pity looks that he was getting from his coworkers was

He had an idea he was your favorite before but now it was written in stone

The ride on the elevator was stiff and foggy to say the least while you handed off room keys to each officer who got off at their assigned floor when needed until his skin was crawling as he tried not to glare at the last man other then himself standing Damon Davis

Leon cleared his throat causing the raven haired man to look at him but it wasn’t his attention he was trying to grasp attention he did not get causing him to repeat his actions causing you look up from you tablet stylus pen resides in your fingers paused from gliding over the screen

“Davis I have you your key are white blind” You questioned and the officer sighed before the responding to you that annoying smirk on his face that Leon just wanted to wipe off-

“I was thinking I would give blondie his own room, he hasn’t really had that hardship why start him now you know?” The pale blue eyed cut from ice man spoke his tone carrying sarcasm resting a toothpick in between his lips and before the blonde could open his mouth to reply you already beat him to it

“Listen Damon I know you’re a little illiterate so I’m going to break this down for you” You sighed letting out little puffs of air at a the situation before your focus goes back to your iPad your tech pen making faint thumps on the surface of the screen

“I’m chief, I’m lieutenant, I’m commanding officer, I’m boss, is that right? Right. So I make the rules I have the last word and I do remember saying Leon Kennedy you are with me tonight because there is a lack of room correct? Correct. The name Damon Davis did not come from my mouth and you’ve disrespected my orders and one of my officers! Do you think we deserve an apology Kennedy? I think we deserve a goddamn apology!”

Leon fought the smirk that tried and succeeded to etch its was on his face the way only looked up from your screen to ask him a rhetorical questioned that you answered yourself the red tinge on his face giving hold all the satisfaction he could need but the apology was definitely the icing on the cake

“I apologize LT, you too Kennedy” The arrogant asshole smell of him begins to leave so he’s finally able to drain his nostrils Damon gets off at the next floor it wasn’t his and it wasn’t yours yet he opted to take the stairs if it meant ignoring the newfound hostility of the the elevator

“Be prepared for weapons cleaning when get get back to base those guns be a good shinning” You called out his as the metal doors shut closed riding your way up higher and higher until you needed a key card to confine the best flood and Leon was surprised to say the least candles lit and rose petals spread throughout the rooms floor and just for a moment he let himself think-

“Couple canceled and it was the last room available ” you mumbled stepping over the teal candles that you were sure was a fire hazard dangerously close to the carpet your legs showing a slip of ankle after stretching

“Please take down those candles, making my head hurt” You weren’t dumb far from it, you had eyes the officer was adorable cute as a fucking button you also noted how he followed your every order and looked at you like you hind every star in the sky

Your eyes traced to the blonde while he positioned himself on his knees his navy blue khaki covered his ass positioned high in the air while he blows out the different rows of candles just like you’d asked him to you shifted your gaze as he lifted from his position on the ground headed to the bathroom with no words spoken the door shut with a ‘click’ behind you

💌💌💌💌

When you wake up in the middle of the night you expect it to be morning but the more you come to a conscious state the more you realize what the hell is actually happening there’s a continuous motion on your thigh and you tilt your head slightly shifting your eyes to see blonde strands of hair peekinginto your peripheral and you feel his face pressed into your back and his hips rotating and grinding against you leg the barricade of pillows holding none of their weight

“Please miss, oh f-fuck please” You can hear him whining and would be lying if the mutter didn’t go straight to you cunt your half asleep dazed state bringing you no luck until you rolled over quickly your bottom half pressed against Leon’s abs just above his v-line while he stared back at you with wide, sultry, eyes

“You’re more of a slut than I thought” You mutter and Leon fights himself to not buck his hips into you at the degradation yet he whines at the sight of you nothing but a cami and boy briefs protecting you from the cold while gusts of winds circulate throughout the room

“Put your hands behind your back… so god help me put your hands behind your fucking back!” You demand barking out orders when Leon pauses and he does it because he’d always do what his Lt wanted so with a slight sit up form crossing his wrist and placing them on the cold mattress before lying on them himself securing his position

“Think it’s okay to use people whore? How you’d like it if I used you hmm?” The blondes heart is pounding as you get off of him and he fights the urge to look at what you’re doing but he’s already in deep shit so he resigns against himself until suddenly you’re on top of him again but this time Leon can feel your heat pressed against his stomach and he groans at the warm embrace engulfing his upper half it’s heaven and hell all in one

“If you touch me I’ll leave you with blue balls” You hissed when he starts trying to grind into getting no where because no pressure was on his aching cock but he stops nonetheless while you begin rolling your hips against the hardness of his abs the firmness of it shooting sparks of pleasure from your belly to your shoulders which hunched while your palms spread out against his chest while the blonde angled his back to arch so his muscles were more prominent to you causing you to moan at the motion

“Oh fuck! S-shit” The look on your face had him awestruck like you created fire, sketched constellations, and sprinkled fairy dust around country’s he felt like he could cum in his pants just from listening to the sounds of pleasure slipping from you lips like honey

“Please miss, just let me help Lt plea-” The blonde whined and before he could complain more your cunt was sat on his mouth muffling his sentence until it died down on his throat while a tongue darted out hitting your bundle of nerves

It was the best way to shut him up

#🦇𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑;𝐆 #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #sub leon kennedy #leon kennedy smut #spooktober #kinktober #angstober #flufftober #resident evil #romance #smut #fem!reader #i love you #thewriterg #2023

[illarian-rambling]

By popular demand!

Villain Introduction: Vermir Nadvalsib, the Mage Eater

“I don’t think you know the opportunity that’s being given to you, girl,” Vermir addressed. “I’m working towards a better world, ruled by gods who know what it’s like to be mortal. There will be no disease, no hunger, no tyrants…. Or no selfish ones, at least. It’s going to take a strong hand to bring this about, and that hand needs fingers to work with. I’m offering you a place at my side.”

Fana looked down at the woman’s outstretched eikodoro hand and spat in it. The girl’s tawny eyes flashed as they caught the pale light of Vermir’s runes.

“You’re one of those crazy book mages, aren’t you?” She barked a laugh. “Go fuck yourself. My father will be here soon and you’d better pray it’s him who gets here first, because if Aunt Tw—”

Fana’s threats broke off with a sucking gasp as Vermir’s dagger found her heart. All at once, reality stilled the girl’s fiery tongue. It was shocking—bad things could happen, even if your family had all the power in the world.

Gently, Vermir laid the spasming girl down, Twelve and Ten stepping to the side. “Don’t worry, sweet Fana, this’ll be over soon,” she whispered. “You’re going to become something great. You’ll be the newest of a new order. You’ll save the world.”

Blood coated the girl’s teeth as she stared up at the silver faceplate that would be the last thing those eyes would ever see. Vermir kept one ocular rune on her arcane signature—a swirl of molten, particolored glass. It faded, growing dimmer and dimmer as the life leaked from her breast.

“I’ll k— kill you,” Fana breathed, eyes wide and glassy. “My family… save me….”

Vermir saw the exact moment little Fana Devaris died. To her magical senses, it seemed as if the girl’s arcane signature exploded, a million glowing particles spitting out like sparks from a forge.

From her pocket, the mage drew a vial of black ichor. The spirit blood was the key—the biocomponent—that allowed her to suck magic from a sorcerer, just as that sorcerer’s blood was the biocomponent that allowed some fragment of their mind to survive in a metallic body.

"This will all be over soon," Vermir whispered, though the girl could hear her no longer. "This will be over and, oh sweet thing, you'll be something better."

Spoilers for Mystery of the Mortal God below

Vermir Nadvalsib was born on the Janazi island of Laben, about five hundred years before the plot of The Mystery of the Mortal God takes place. She lived there peacefully, serving as their village mage. It was a good life, and she loved her community like nothing else, treating their sickness and improving their infrastructure. Unfortunately, there eventually came one problem she couldn't fix.

Aderin flu is all but eradicated in modern-day Janaz. However, five hundred years ago, it killed islanders by the thousands. When the disease came to Laben, Vermir worked tirelessly to find a cure. She was never successful. In time, she felt the claws of the disease curl around her lungs as well, and so she turned to darker sources. She just needed more time to work out a cure. She just needed the right magic.

Vermir knew that Chosen, those blessed by the gods and given the power to work miracles, were capable of healing the sick. She also knew that no god has more than one Chosen, and that all the Illarian gods were taken. So, she sought this power from an alternative source.

In an ancient Araunian tablet passed down to her by her predecessor, Vermir read about a spirit of antiquity, feared by the long-dead desert people. They called it only the 'dark beyond.' Vermir thought she would be able to ask this old god to make her its Chosen, and thus use its power to make herself immortal so she'd have the time to make a cure to save her people.

Unfortunately, the being she called upon was no god.

End, though Vermir never learned its name, tore through Laben out of the portal she opened. It devoured the divine souls of the townsfolk and grafted their echoes onto Vermir before the ritual failed and it was pulled back into outer space. This rendered her semi-immortal and nearly broke her mind. The whispers of the people she inadvertently killed hiss through her skull in a constant murmur.

The Chosen of the Illarian church, deployed because of the End influx, found her all but comatose. The power flowing through her was too raw at the time for the Chosen to kill her, so they tossed her in the Trench. She didn't need air anymore, after all.

For five hundred years, she languished in the ocean floor prison. She came to blame the gods for her failed ritual. Why had they sent the Aderin flu if they cared for mortality at all? Why had the Chosen come to arrest her, but not to cure her people? Why was there cruelty in the world at all if the gods could prevent it?

Her hate calcified into a grand plan. First, Vermir would find herself a perfect, unkillable form, finally finishing her trip towards immortality. Second, she would find a way to steal sorcery and give herself a godly amount of power. To do all this, she would capture a spirit and use its divine knowledge and alchemically powerful ichor to fuel her plans. It took her many centuries to work all of this out.

She escaped the Trench by causing a magic blackout, using the tooth of a 'beast blessed by the dark beyond' she managed to find in there. (Not that Vermir would know, but that tooth would be none other than Izjik Meautammera's, which she lost by hitting her head on a rock) (The magic blackout she caused also allowed Sepo and Izjik to escape). She waited until the gods sent a spirit to investigate the surge of strange magic, then captured that spirit and pulled it into a mobile demiplane she spent her time in the Trench constructing.

After that, she just needed to find some sorcerers whose magic she could steal, and who she could put into robotic bodies as a test run for her own perfect form. It's just a little unfortunate for her that the sixth experimental subject she chose was a little more... willful than the others.

And the rest is history!

As a person, Vermir really believes that usurping the gods to rule in their stead is the right thing to do. She thinks that mortals deserve to be ruled by a mortal, and once her utopian empire is solidified and all disease and war are eradicated, she really does intend to step down to let people rule themselves. The one thing that she doesn't care about is how many people she needs to kill to get to this point. A mass slaughter of sorcerers is just the price that must be paid to give her the power to save the rest of the world. She's giving those sorcerers immortality, after all, in the form of metal bodies. Why should they be upset?

Her main weakness is her temper. Vermir likes to see herself as above such petty things, but when someone pushes her buttons, she loses her cool incredibly fast. This makes her sloppy.

Her main strength is that she's a legitimately good god-queen. At the current point in the story, she's taken over a city and executed its ruler. The people love her because she distributes food fairly, runs a judicial system that cares about more than money, gives free medicine to the sick, and provided heating runes to defend against the frigid climate to an extent that the old regime never did. Apart from her transfer for sorcerers into brainwashed metal bodies and stealing of their magic, all of which she keeps secret from the masses, she's an incredibly benevolent tyrant.

As for what she looks like, as she first appears, Vermir is a shriveled bog mummy of a woman. Her face is leathery and she has no hair. Her brown eyes are adjusted to the Trench's darkness. Later, she finds herself in a towering metal form made of pale silver eikodoro - the siren god-metal. No matter if she wears flesh or metal, Vermir is wreathed by a cowl of shadows, which are the chattering remnants of Laben's populous. She doesn't have the heart to get rid of the last echo of her people, no matter how annoying they might get.

Now for fun facts, I guess?

Vermir, for all the grief she's caused him, doesn't know Mashal's name. She just calls him Six, because he was her sixth subject.

She has some serious beef with Astra because the witch stole her notes, even though she sees a lot of herself in the younger woman.

Her first round of experiments (One through Seven) were done to perfect the transfer process of putting a mind in a metal body. The rest of the sorcerers she kills and stuffs into metal bodies are brainwashed into serving as her soldiers.

At this point in the story, after conquering a city known for its sorcerous university, she has the power of upwards of 15,000 sorcerers at her disposal. This would make her more powerful in sheer destructive capabilities than many minor spirits.

She has canonically used the words "ran through" to describe a library.

I imagine her with a New Jersey accent because it's funny.

She intends to find a way to put her metal soldiers back into fleshy bodies should they want it once her conquestest of the world and usurpation of the gods is over.

Frankly, Vermir is one of my favorite villains because she just has so much personality. Also, if someone showed up, killed the president on live TV, then declared that they were the predisent now and healthcare, food, and rent were now free, I'd probably get behind them too if that's all I knew. Lmk if you have any questions and I hope you enjoy my cunty little Glados ripoff <3

Have a bitchin day!

@amandacanwrite @elsie-writes @riveriafalll @kosmic-kore @kaylinalexanderbooks @bard-coded @carrotsinnovember @patternwelded-quill @somethingclevermahogony @whatwewrotepodcast @goldxdarkness @the-angriest-author @mk-writes-stuff @frostedlemonwriter @vyuntspakhkite-l-darling

#writing #writerscommunity #writblr #my ocs #author

[crockettmarcel]

I wish you would write a fic where Sarah and Ava actually hate each other and Connor is stuck in the middle <3

sorry that this took me almost two years to write lol. better late than never though right? wc: 1076

“Connor, how many psychiatrists work at this hospital?” Ava asks, appearing out of nowhere next to him at his computer.

“I’m not sure,” he says, turning to look up at her. “Maybe ten? Give or take.”

“Uh-huh.” She nods, then pulls out the chair next to his and sits down. “So, more than one, you’d say?”

“That’s usually what ten means, yeah. Why, what’s going on?”

“Oh, I’m just wondering why, if we have so many different psychiatrists here, you’d page Dr Reese to consult on our patient. Surely there was someone else, perhaps with more experience, that would have been able to assess competency?”

He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “Honestly, Ava, I had no idea she’d be the one doing it. I asked Maggie to page psych and I guess she chose Sarah. Not my fault.”

She glares at him, then for added emphasis, crosses her arms against her chest. “Have you considered using your brain for once? Next time, tell her to page anyone but Dr Reese, okay? It’s not that hard to remember.”

“Yes ma’am.” He salutes her, earning himself an even fiercer look, and he’s certain that if he pushes her any further, she’ll burst a blood vessel. Or into flames. “What’s the big deal, anyway? You don’t have to be there while she does her assessment.”

“I know that, Connor. I’m not a complete idiot.” As soon as Sarah had appeared in the doorway of the treatment room, tablet in hand and that stupid sickly-sweet, over-sympathetic smile on her face, Ava had excused herself and spent the next fifteen minutes staring daggers at the room from the nurses’ station. “But she had to tell someone the results of her assessment, and since you’d fucked off up here to do God-knows-what, I got that privilege.”

“Okay, well I’m sorry about that, Ava. I’ll stick around next time so you don’t need to speak to her.”

“My knight in shining armour, thank you.” She grins at him, and suddenly that murderous look in her eyes from thirty seconds ago has disappeared. Connor can’t imagine the death stares she must have given Sarah, and he’s glad he wasn’t around for the immediate aftermath of their interaction. At least the couple of minutes in the elevator on the way up from the ED gave Ava a chance to calm down slightly.

He wonders if he should go and check on Sarah.

“You know, if you told me what this whole feud was about—”

She cuts him off almost instantly. “Not a chance in hell, Connor. Absolutely not.” With that, the murderous look is back, and it’s the last thing Connor sees before Ava stands up and storms off.

They have a valve repair together in the afternoon, and he hopes that she’ll have done something — most likely shout at a med student or drink a gallon of her “super cool” black coffee — to calm herself down by then. If not, he’ll have to start praying.

—————————————————

He spots Sarah an hour later in the cafeteria. As grateful as he is to see that she’s alive and unharmed after her time with Ava, he’s in no rush to make small talk in between mouthfuls of lunch; she has that same pissed-off look in her as Ava did, and he’s not in the mood to hear about why. (He’s sure he already knows.)

He does his best to avoid eye contact with her, keeping his head down as he shoves his slightly disappointing chicken sandwich into his mouth, but Sarah notices him anyway. A chair scrapes against the floor, and when he puts his sandwich down for a moment and looks up, Sarah’s sitting opposite him, setting out her fruit cup and bread roll on the table.

“Hey, Sarah.” He’s not entirely sure what he can say without upsetting her further, so he waits until she’s stopped staring at him to speak again. “That, uh, that fruit looks good. What is that, cantaloupe?”

“You know,” she says, ignoring his attempt to start a conversation, “I liked working here a lot more before Dr Bekker arrived.”

There’s nothing he can do to stop this from happening, so he just raises an eyebrow and takes a sip of his coffee. “Is that so?”

“Oh, come on, Connor. Don’t act like your life wasn’t easier before she got here. We’ve all heard the way you two fight. You’re lucky you’re an excellent surgeon, because otherwise…” She lets her voice trail off, but the face she pulls is enough for Connor to know exactly what she means.

If he wasn’t such a good surgeon, he’d have been fired for his conduct.

“Look, I get that she can be difficult, but—”

Sarah scoffs. “She’s an absolute nightmare.”

He frowns. “What is going on with you two? She’s walking around looking like she wants to kill someone, and you’re like…” he gestures loosely at her, “...this. Can’t you just, I don’t know, talk it out?”

“There’s nothing to talk about.” 

She leans back in her chair and folds her arms, and Connor can’t get over how uncannily similar her movements are to Ava’s. Telling her would be a death sentence though, and he’s not that stupid, so he lets the thought go. Instead, he takes a moment to observe Sarah's defiant posture, her arms tightly crossed, and the determined look in her eyes. It's clear that whatever this is, it goes far beyond over-competitiveness or a disagreement about patient care. There’s something else entirely.

“And I take it you don’t want to tell me what the problem is?”

She sighs. “I got assigned to your patient today, and Ava was a complete bitch about it.”

“Yeah, I heard about that. I meant in general though. Do you want to tell me about what happened in the first place between you two?”

“I do not.” She rips a chunk off her bread roll, then breaks it up into smaller and smaller pieces until she’s left with nothing more than crumbs. Connor watches as she does it two, three more times, and it’s only when there’s less than half of the roll left that she speaks again. “I don’t know. Maybe. Not now, though.”

“Well, I’m here if you ever want to chat. And I promise I won’t tell Ava what you told me.”

Sarah smirks. “Good luck keeping a secret from her. She’ll figure it out, especially if it's about me.”

#chicago med #writing #sarah reese #ava bekker #connor rhodes

[unhonest-iago]

Incorrect History; Crystals

Everything that you’ve ever known about crystals is wrong. The simple yet elegant rocks that ties us mere mortals to the world’s fertile soil. You’ve probably searched up many times which stone correlates to when you were born. Aries’ pressurized diamonds to Pisces’ aquamarine.  One used for stress relief, the other stimulating creativity. Looking at them, you wouldn’t think about the many wars and political conflicts they’ve played a role in. Thus I believe it’s time we stepped back and got an even clearer reflection of crystals. That is if you pray to not lose your coveted gems. 

The intro reel plays, the text on screen reading ‘Factually True and Real History with Ted Nivison.’ A few images cascade behind the text, one being of the painting Girl with a Pearl Earring, while it gradually scales in size. Now you see Ted standing in front of a grassy knoll, you can assume it’s a green screen as it looks akin to Microsoft’s home screen.

Most would believe that the first big boom for crystals was New Age mysticism that arose in the 1980s but in actuality, they’ve been around since Ancient Egyptian. A ‘mini me’ form of Ted standing in the original’s hand. This revelation came with the discovery of clay tablets with magic formulas inscribed in hieroglyphics. Because this might come as a surprise to most of you, they did not have Staples.  A picture of Staples green-screened, the smaller Ted becoming aware of larger Ted. That kinda blew my mind when I found out. What the fuck? The mini Ted disappeared now. The Parthenos now set behind them.

Most of what we know regarding crystals comes from the Ancient Greeks. The word crystal derives from the word cryo. Before battle, Greek soldiers would rub hematite on themselves. Oxidation gives the crystal it’s pristine rusted color, closely associating it with Ares, their god of war. One such battle being the Trojan war, historians claim it was over the prized Helen of Troy but this is incorrect. Paris of Troy stealing her from her husband, Sparta’s king. A clip of the film 300’s protagonist yelling Sparta appears on screen. Rather it was what Helen possessed, a coveted amethyst necklace. The war itself almost destroyed the economy, allowing for the Romans to easily take over the omega filled population destitute of alphas. And the amethyst necklace unfortunately lost to time. 

Now let’s talk about the Victorians. A flash of puffy powdered wigs appearing on screen, different pieces of clothing; petticoats, feathered hats, waistcoat pockets holding watches. In 1829, Sir Boris Peel established London’s Metropolitan police force. They quickly garnered a corrupt reputation, referred to as spokes, cracking down on jewelry related robberies. Opals, rubies, & pearls most sought after. Women took to sewing them into their clothes, secret pockets when women’s clothing still had them. Further incorporating them into spring bonnets men on the hands of their watches. As tradition, peer pressure from the deceased goes, this is where aristocratic families willing beloved heirlooms to their descendants originated. As they later traveled to the adventurous new-beginnings of the Colonies, so did these possessions.

The east coast having settled, needing more room to stretch their legs, these ambitious settlers journeyed out west finding specks of gold in the Rocky mountains. They kept part of their finds separate, off the record. Only setting up shop after the glorious centers of attention turned to dust, haunted by their lustrous ghosts. Developing the tricks of the trade, mentoring others under their careful thumb. Hitting the 1980s, with the New Age movement, those jewels repurposed into anchors of healing as we entered the Age of Aquarius. Ted looks to the hourglass sitting on their mantle, the sand at the top now all at the bottom. Ah, it looks like we’re out of time. Thank you so much for joining me on this episode of Factually True History. I’m your host, Ted Nivison. Thanks for watching…or reading. It cuts to them waving, as the camera pans outward, the same intro playing, repeating as the outro. 

#iago writes #not x reader #ted nivison #chuckle sandwich #incorrect history

[dothwrites]

'our father who aren't in heaven' is sure a buckleming episode! fifty thousand characters, at least ten subplots, and somehow, entertaining in spite of it.

i AM furious at dean "not knowing" the achilles heel reference. this is a man who canonically reads homer and who is interested in movies like clash of titans. this is a cheap "hurr hurr dean is stupid" joke made at his expense and i will NOT stand for this 'dean is stupid' slander

the scene where everyone is watching donnatello translate the tablet is so ridiculous that it is entertaining. (additionally how much is on that demon tablet? there's been about twenty different pieces of information on that tablet. how did they find room for it?)

"if you want to stay here then stay here" said to cas when cas' love language is the phrase "i could go with you". dean is still so BRUTAL here and it's still so painful.

at least in the fight with charlie's demonic angels, EVERYONE is getting their ass kicked. "are any of us winning" is a line that has no business being as funny as it is

ROWENA! MY LOVE! MY GREATEST LOVE! queen of hell is actually the perfect character arc for her. it is so fitting. we also love rowena as a relationship counselor. dean and cas both say "it's fine" like "i love him; talk to HIM". and rowena says "fix it" like it's the easiest thing in the world (and you know what? it could be!). it just kills me HOW MUCH attention was given in the divorce arc to dean and cas' relationship and how integral to the show it was. and then in the last bit of the show it is DROPPED! like a hot potato!

jake abel looked at misha and jensen and said "i do not NEED a coworker; i will have extraordinary chemistry with MYSELF" and then proceeded to do exactly that. but seeing jake abel on my spn screen again after ten years was DELIGHTFUL.

this conversation between dean and sam is why i do not UNDERSTAND this idea that "dean wouldn't want sam to be with someone who was in the life". dean is so openly supportive of sam's relationship with eileen, and he GENUINELY enjoys her company. why is there the idea that dean doesn't support their relationship????

castiel's eyes should ALWAYS flash blue! i also enjoyed the idea of cas being the one to pray to michael for a meeting. and then "i didn't come to beg" like! what a fucking POWER MOVE. my GOD! cas and michael share a lot of good moments in this episode, and it's fun to think about cas, who is this insignificant seraph, finally catching michael's attention.

cas baiting michael into snapping... the BALLS on this angel are unbelievable. but he knows it's the only way he's going to get close enough to michael to make him see the truth! he's so smart! "we didn't bond" whoever told cas that he wasn't funny is a DAMN LIAR. and dean is STILL second-guessing cas! he's still criticizing cas' choices and how he chooses to go about things. annoying!

love how things like getting in and out of purgatory become so ridiculously simple in the later seasons. cas and crowley spend an entire season trying to find purgatory and in s15, michael snaps his fingers and BAM! there it is.

"since when do we get what we deserve" i am WEAK. i know that rich said that the glance to cas wasn't necessarily intentional but it still FEELS intentional.

#doth watches spn

[sag-dab-sar]

Unanswered Prayers?

I keep wondering about prayer requests and feeling like they go unanswered. I don't talk to the Gods, interact with the Gods, or ... "feel" the Gods as much as the vast majority of pagans/polytheists on the internet seem to explain. I cannot rely on the interactions to know if a prayer was answered, I have to go off faith almost entirely.

My immediate thoughts is the very Christian "God works in mysterious ways," reaction. I usually try to focus on the idea that Gods did answer just in a way I didn't expect. The "silver linings" in my life might be attributable to my supplication to the Gods, so I try as best I can to look for them.

But still I often express in frustration something like "the universe just fucking hates me" or "thanks universe *sarcasm*" and when I actually think about it, couldn't "the universe" that shaped my life be perhaps The Moirai? Or perhaps ordained in the Tablet of Destiny? or a higher "larger" deity? Because, lets face it, when I'm bitching about the universe giving me the life I have: who am I bitching about?

Yes, I am aware none of my Gods are all powerful but they can, and do, intervene in our world— otherwise supplication would be pointless. The basis of Kharis wouldn't exist.

Awhile ago my mom was sitting in my room with me, she looked at my altar and said "why aren't they helping you?" Part of me felt "maybe they don't" but I asked her "you pray to God for me don't you?" she said yes and I responded with "so why hasn't helped me? If God, Trinity, Jesus, whomever is the only God... surly he helps non-Christians." To which she agreed. Meaning if my current condition isn't being helped by my Gods then it also isn't being helped by The Trinity despite her prayers. We both thought about it and mentioned good things that have happened recently. I keep getting worse but any of these good things could be the work of The Gods (be in mine or my mom's ...or both). In another instance I told that exact story to someone and they slightly under there breath dismissively said "because none of them are real". Which is just a jerk thing to say but it does leave a seed of painful doubt.

Some people draw closer to their religion during times of hardship but here I am angry at life and wondering if any of my supplications are ever answered by any god. And if any of them exist.

.....And yet I continue to worship and honor anyways.

#polytheism #paganism #helpol #hellenic polytheism #sumerian #prayer #levpag #personal #i guess #headblind

[orionthecritter]

WELP! I OFFICIALLY NEED TO GET A NEW TABLET!

Half joking here, but I have awful news. The connector that I use for my cord to plug into my laptop is officially broken, I will either need to get it fixed, find a new one, or just give up on my current tablet and find a different one. First, I don't have money, I'm broke as a rock, second, I have absolutely no fucking idea on where to find a connector thats the exact same for my cord, and same thing as last, no money! And a new drawing tablet, we can guess why I can't get one. I have no clue what to do! And considering I was working on a comic for one of my askblogs, I'm most definitely, screwed. So for now, my art is either gonna be on paper or I'm not gonna post anything at all, which sucks! Cause I love showing my art to people! I'm not gonna draw on my phone due to me losing motivation quite quickly and never finishing anything, not even quick sketches! God I have no clue what to do, sorry for the rant, but I'm just stressed out at the moment! But to make the situation better, I made a quick phone doodle of myself and how I reacted in the moment.

Nother quick rant here, I've been thinking about getting a new laptop too, due to it just bugging out and crashing all the time, I'm trying to see if I can get one of my old aunties or grandmas laptops, so thankfully thats possible, although I'm not gonna get my hopes up, the laptops they both used to have are hella old, but I'm honestly praying they'll work. Anyways, if you made it this far, then thank you for reading my long rant! Everything's been a bit much but I'm gonna try my best to figure out on how to get it fixed! Hope you have good afternoon, good evening, and goodnight.

#art #digital drawing #drawing #this sucks #digital art #batim bendy #batim #batdr #batdr bendy #phone doodle.

[louiemutton]

Blossoms by the amazing devil, WinterHawk and set in freefall if possible (though I'm okay with any universe)

I am so sorry this is so late, I opened prompts and then real life showed up and smacked me directly in the face.

cw blood, mentions of injuries, references to dead characters

——————

The phone rings uselessly, dozens of messages pouring through as Clint ignores them. It feels closer to a tablet of stone, a useless brick in his hand. He goes to toss it away, the blood smeared across it another reminder of what had happened minutes ago. Before he does though, something flashes, catching his eye.

The name across the screen is emblazoned into Clint’s retinas. Bucky Barnes, the notorious ex-best friend, of Clint’s own doing. They’d been close once upon a time, some unspoken understanding that connected the two of them for years. Bobbi had noticed it, pushed for Clint to do something about it, but he truly was never ready.

But that had been a different era. These days they barely said a word to one another outside of mission talk. Their easy camaraderie was replaced with a tension that neither of them acknowledged, neither of them ever spoke about.

It was so like them to never talk about the things that actually mattered.

The mission was always more important.

The myriad of messages he’d received before this phone call meant nothing to Clint, but Bucky’s judgment weighs heavily on his soul. Part of him wants to know what’s going on in Bucky’s mind, if he thinks Clint is an evil assassin like everyone else. Or does Bucky truly know him, know that he’s in over his head again, a useless fuck up who got a teenager dragged into the line of fire and killed.

Clint’s not sure which is worse.

Curiosity wins over as he closes his eyes and prays this goes better than he thinks it will.

“Clint?” Bucky’s voice is hoarse, like he’s been yelling too long again. That or he’s been crying himself raw, because every time Bucky cries too much his voice gives out.

He tries not to think about which of the options it is.

“What do you want.” It’s colder than Clint intends, but he doesn’t feel much like himself to begin with. It feels like someone else’s voice, harsh and accusatory when all he wants to do is beg for Bucky's forgiveness.

“I called to make sure you’re alright.”

“I didn’t know you still cared.”

“Clint,” Bucky starts, but Clint doesn’t let him finish.

Clint doesn’t know what comes over him. “No, Bucky. You’ve spent the last five years fucking off on every mission you can get that’s as far away from me as possible, don’t pretend you suddenly care.” His chest is heavy with emotion and he’s not sure where it’s all coming from or how much of it is true, but it all comes flooding out regardless. He’s helpless to stop the pain that’s coming out of him, aiming it directly at Bucky rather than himself.

“You don’t get to lash out at me just because I asked you if you’re alright.” Bucky snaps, and it only aggravates Clint more.

“Fuck you.” Clint says, and he can feel his eyes welling up with tears because as hurtful as the words he had uttered were, he realizes that there’s so much truth in them, more than he ever let himself think about. He feels like Bucky abandoned him for years, the only time they were even in the same room together was when they went after Natasha, and even that had felt stilted.

“I called Kate.” Bucky says, his tone flat, and that stops Clint in his tracks.

“No,” he starts, but Bucky interrupts him.

“I know you won’t listen to me, I know I fucked us up, I know it’s my fault that I put work first. I won’t give you excuses, but don’t you dare start acting like I’ve stopped caring.” His voice breaks, Clint can hear it over the line, “I know you’re in over your head. I covered for you with Sam, but I never stopped believing in you. Out of everyone on this god-forsaken team, I am the only one who trusts the lengths you’ll go to not to kill people. So, don’t you dare act like I don’t care just because I’ve got my own baggage.”

“Bucky-“

“I don’t want to hear it. Kate should be there soon.” The line clicks, and despite how emotionally defeated Clint feels, there’s some small blossom of hope sitting in his chest, bubbling up amongst the pain and the hurt.

Bucky still cares, Clint thinks, and it’s something he truly didn’t think was possible anymore. He’s still got to figure out a way to defeat the hood on his own terms, but being seen by Bucky, Bucky knowing that Clint isn’t killing people, Bucky knowing Clint despite all the bullshit, makes Clint think that maybe all of this is possible.

He hears a knock on the basement door and a lilted voice calling out to see if he’s okay. He knows it’s Kate, but before he answers, all bloodied and bruised, he has a text message to send first.

Perhaps if he does, they can start to heal. Perhaps they can begin to move forward.

To Bucky: I’m sorry.

#violetlou2020 #winterhawk #freefall #i put references to the deleted kate scene in here if anyone needs a link to that let me know!!! #i dont know how i'll find it but i will figure it out lmao its on twitter somewhere #tater writes #Clint Barton #Bucky Barnes

[fruttymoment]

is Aggie like a mobile app or do you just doodle on the website on your phone

aren't you like afraid to lose your data because of tabbing out of your browser for a second

Aggie is a website, where i doodle more polished stuff compared to PENUP ! I used to use PENUP but it doesnt even have a stabilizer lol, and Ibis Paint never worked for me soo,

Your drawings doesnt get lose that easily, actually! For example, tabbing to another thing or straight up closing my Internet app never really lost my data! However, i do heavily suggest you open an account for it first. From what i understand, Aggie seems to save your work automatically the moment you stop drawing.

But, did i encountered some data loss at all? AH YES. YEP.

Aggie likes to glitch sometimes. Rarely, when i go back to my drawings the save system seems to not work on my recent doodles. So i sometimes saw that my work i completed is a bit back to being unfinished, only missing small stuff tho.

Aggie experience HEAVILY depends on your INTERNET. If your internet is great, strong signal, no pings, then your experience would be great! (There were some cases where aggie somehow disconnects EVEN if i had great internet, no idea why. But your overall experience should be fine with a good internet!)

If you have bad internet, low signal and sone pings, pray.

One thing i dont like about aggie is it usually DOESNT TELL YOU IF YOU ARE DISCONNECTED. When something goes wrong with the connection, our bro aggie doesnt even tell you usually and because of that you think there isnt no issue and continue drawing. Thankfully, aggie doesnt stay too long disconnected. Only for like 3-5 seconds i suppose. After several seconds, aggie suddenly stops and that horrific "Connecting..." message pops up in the top right.

I see that message in my nightmares.

When you encounter that "Connecting..." message, first of all, ANYTHING you draw in lets say 10 seconds recently probably has been completely fucked. If you are lucky, aggie immeditely tells you the message and disconnects you so you dont lose big stuff. But mostly, when it comes to ping or lagging, aggie struggles to tell you. Bro is shy and waits several seconds to tell me "um you are actually disxonnected something is wromg with th internet im so sorry im gonna reconnect you ok??? Oh and everything you drew in last 5 to 10 seconds are gone probably. Am so sorry"

You lose your data because you draw when aggie isnt even connected. And the problem is, like i said, aggie has some trouble to tell it.

The last type of error i witnessed is just straight up corrupted data.

Oh god.

I dont know why and how, but RARELY, your drawings suddenly gets fucked up. Like it looks like you accidently tapped on the screen and i dunno?? Here is an example;

Everything is What the fuck

finee :3 just happened

This can happen either in your very own eyes, or when you are away and open aggie again. Now this glitch thing is pretty rare i experienced it only few, but its so annoying because you cant even get rid of it simply by pressing the "undo" button. It does not delete it that way and you have to delete whats wrong manually.

On some cases, some pieces of your work even may get erasee in this glitch aswell. Its like your cat smashed your drawing tablet or something, just completely random stuff happens and you cant even undo your way out of that one bruh.

..what was i talking about?

OH YEA

Aggie is a website :>

Data loss only happens if your internet bad, and sometimes, rarely, with strange glitches

Also important to note that the point of aggie.io is to draw with friends, aggie itself is not an professional drawing service i think. Its still neat tho!

[unrequited-words]

03/08/23 Wednesday 9:49 p.m.

Two beers in. I made this simple pasta mini shells, premade taco meat I made yesterday, a jar of pasta sauce, Parm cheese in the shaker plastic can (romano, maybe), and mozzarella cheese. It's nice.

the beer is helping me forget. Baby is still up. An hour of OT tomorrow. I'd love to do more but I'm not wanting to wake up from 7-9 a.m. from extra hours and five bonus points per hour. If I am awake ... maybe?

Yeah, fuck that.

This last week was so hard. I took Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday off from being sick.

Of fucking course zod gave me shit. All I do is work. Haven't had a real vacation since I gave birth.,.. if you call that abfucking vacation? I had 713 points paid and now I am around 113 give or take. It's all paid. Damn,this pasta is good. I took a bite, lol

On Microsoft teams, my boss messaged me and he said I bonused for February fiscal month. 506.93 I think? I didn't I'd bonus at all due to quality.

Idk, guys... I still believe in God, I'm just scared for the future. Maybe it's supposed to be this way. I support a family of five between 38-39 a year. Inflation fucking sucks. Politics suck.

Rent went up so starting April it's 1300 plus the rest of our expenses, if I keep doing what I do for work we can make it on one salary for now.

I was nominated for an acclaim award for being big hearted at work, and if I win (doubt it) I will get a gift card (50/100.00) and either crumbl cookies. I've never had them.

I've been wanting to make chocolate chip cookies from scratch. We get the kids Saturday. If I pack everything Friday night and on Saturday work from 7:00-9:00 am, and we leave around 10:00-10:30 it isn't so bad. Round trip is 6 hours, but with the baby it feels longer.

We get the kids for a week and I know my son will fucking test me. He always foes. He doesn't fucking listen at FUCKING ALL! He is on his fucking tablet and on the spectrum. It's manageable but Jesus fuck yes this is me venting. It's difficult. Their mom is dofficult. Doesn't allow them to go and play or have sleepovers. She's a fucking trainwreck. she's rather chase dick than be a mom, honestly

If me and Zod ever split up I wouldn't chase dick I'm too old, and with a kid dating is exhausting. No thanks. I'm good.

It was a slow work day. I didn't do too bad. I'm tired. 10:06 pm and maybe in the next hour I can pass out. I hope Astrid goes to bed before modnight. Last night I fell asleep between midnight and 1:00. Slept through my alarm, oh well.

Maybe I'm buzzed but damn this pasta I made sure is yummy, lol. 🍝

I may have another beer but that's pushing it. Tomorrow sometime I need to wash the sheets for the other bed, and make a list before we leave Saturday. Maybe another trip to the grocery store?

My ex sent my birth certificate through the mail and I pray to fucking god it isn't lost. It has thos weird tracking number starting with 70, when normally USPS tracking starts with 98 ... The reason I know is I work with ups, USPS, FedEx, and DHL when customers order.

I'm very oaranoid. I need it to go to the DMV, otherwise if it's lost I get to spend a cool 54.00 fucking dollars requesting a new one.

The other bedroom is closed with all her toys. If she gets out of bed she has nothing to play with. She's watching Peppa Pig. It's cute. It isn't as annoying as that fuck Calliou. God, I need adult froends. I'm drowning in toddler bullshit, 😂

Welcome to my Ted Talk

#s #personal #mine #my fiance or husband needs to stop fucking snoring lol #This beer is nice #I'm buzzed #Thos pasta is nice

[ahkmenrah]

actually here’s my fucking rant: where’s ahkmenrah throughout all of this he literally owns the tablet his fucking dad is allegedly in this (if this imbd shit is actually true) and it’s literally about kahmunrah so WHY is his brother not in this WHY are they doing another movie without ahk i can’t actually believe that rami is allegedly coming back because that’s the only cast information that didn’t get changed and rami is too good for this. i swear to god like actually if he’s not in this movie im giving up im deleting this blog i don’t care about jedtavius jedediah octavius i don’t fucking care about those whities even a little bit. at the very least im praying they add some interesting characters of color into this movie this time because if it’s just white people again im deleting

#like actually

[mconlight]

[ CONSTANT ] : after days/weeks/months/years of endless flirting back and forth, sender finally dares the receiver to go beyond flirting and break the tensions between them properly. ( listen… LISTEN sons it’s about time )

sexual tension prompts.

status: omfg

haneul hadn't meant for this to go the way that it has.

this has been months in the making, truly. it started when he sent seojung a link to an announcement to a collection release he really wanted, and continued up until the week of the release with occasional whiny voice notes and voicemails about how hard it would be to get because of how popular the collaboration was. he knew it'd be next to impossible to get on the first release— by himself, anyway.

seojung was recruited, and the hours leading up to the drop consisted of haneul fretting over their phones and two laptops and a tablet to ensure he had the best chance at getting what he wanted. he knew seojung didn't really get it— didn't share the same passion for makeup that haneul had— but he sat on haneul's couch anyway and unnecessarily refreshed the shop page every two minutes when haneul got too antsy to just wait patiently. and haneul's grateful to be humored. it's why he asked him for help to begin with.

when the time comes, one of haneul's screens freezes. another refuses to display anything on the webpage. he manages to add what he wants to his cart on the third, but by the time he tries to check out, it's sold out. and haneul honestly thinks that's it— he's shit out of luck and he'll just have to hope and pray for a second release— until seojung voices a loud, "i got it."

it's all screaming from there ("you got it?" "i got it!" "holy fuck, you got it!"), including haneul's overenthusiastic: "oh my god, i could kiss you right now!"

which seojung responds with, "why don't you?"

and... haneul doesn't have an answer to that. part of his brain thinks (knows, even) that he's joking. because seojung always jokes like that. but the other part is looking at his friend's face and that look in his eyes and isn't so sure. the problem is that he's not sure which side to listen to, so he sits, staring at seojung like a deer caught in headlights. it's just— they've kissed before, right? they've shared a couple kisses between shots of alcohol and stumbling around seojung's living room and just before they fall asleep after fumbling into bed together. why would it be different this time?

so maybe that's why haneul leans in. their lips don't touch, but he stops when he's close enough to feel seojung's breath against his. if he's quiet enough, he thinks seojung might be able to hear his heart pounding. he stays— hands on either side of seojung's hips, weight leaning on his palms, barely a nudge necessary away from pressing their lips together.

"i will," he says quietly, "if you want me to."

#☾. answered. #nouvelis #☾. 月が綺麗ですね? #// is this???????? their time????????? at long last?????????????