#a horrible caffeinated vision
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"Okay." Danny slowly laid the already cold body back onto the table, ready to slide back it into the refuge of cold storage. "Okay. Dead guy. Stay there."
The body didn't move.
"Fantastic. Now. Hang out while I pour the embalming fluid into the pump, alright? It should only be a minute."
And it usually did; working in a funeral home wasn't extremely glamorous, but it paid the bills, and Danny had already been used to the rhyme and rhythm of negotiating death with the public by the time he sent in his mortuary school application. It had been a transition that made sense. And in the end, the degree had only cost him a few extra years post-graduation and a little dig into student loans, and now Danny had a stable 12-8 job and health insurance valid in the state of new jersey.
Today, though, the pump had that decided enough was enough. With a bang and a boom, the pump spat out a cloud of smoke and clunked uncomfortably.
The dead body sat up.
Danny scrambled over to push it back down. "No. We talked about this. Dead people don't move. If you want to stay here and have me put you back together all the time, you have to stay put. Got it?"
Whatever the weird gold-eye corpses were on in Gotham, they at least listened to him on occasion. They weren't ghosts, per se— they never pinged on any of the ghost detection devices Mom and Dad had packed in his going-away-to-college bag— but they were, despite being occasionally animate, perfectly deceased.
Weird. Danny had never gotten used to it. Still, they came in droves, too eager to sit on the top of the basement stairwell and lurk in the corners and stare endlessly at them with their weird, avian eyes, and sometimes they heralded the arrival similarly weird-ass bodies that had lost their heads or their arms or their limbs through the more conventional channels.
"I'm losing too much thread to all y'all coming in all the time," Danny complained to the dead body, who, at the moment, was the only person present to blame. "Stop getting your limbs cut off. This stuff is expensive, you know. It's a specialty order."
The body didn't even have the courtesy to blink. Rude.
"At least let them bury you this time. Every time one of you darts off when my back's turned, my boss thinks I'm stealing corpses. My coworkers think I'm building my own Frankenstein or something."
The corpse neither verbalized nor blinked, but Danny hadn't expected it to; with a sigh, he rolled the corpse back into cold storage, locked its little door (not that locking it in had ever stopped it) and called it quits for the night.
It's not like anyone was paying him for the extra hours anyway.
#I'm very pro Danny accidentally adopts a whole bunch of Talons#people have definitely done it before but this scene came to me in a vision#a horrible caffeinated vision#could absolutely be an excuse for#talon!dick#talons#dp x dc#faer fic#dpxdc#dcxdp#talon!au#dcu crossover#death tw#well. the funeral industry anyway#medical tw#just in case#corpse tw#¯\_(ツ)_/¯#free to a good home
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WiP Wednesday 13/03
Thank you @wordsofhoneydew @magicandarchery @onthewaytosomewhere @suseagull04 @getmehighonmagic @sunnysideprince @priincebutt for the tags!!! I’m so sorry if I’ve missed someone I’ve been in and out of meetings and transporting to those meetings all day <3<3<3
Happy wip Wednesday tho!!! This week @happiness-of-the-pursuit made a comment about how my horrible stay-alive-during-law-school-finals-week juice should be in a fic and I ran with it, so there you guys go!!
It was inadvisable. Alex knew it was inadvisable the first time he did it, and he knew it the second time he did it. By the third time he was so high on caffeine, his hands were shaking, but one might argue attending law school was inadvisable as well. So Red-Bull lattes it is.
And it’s not like he meant to create this monstrous concoction in the first place. The milk his annoyingly perfect and considerate asshole of a roommate placed on his desk, along with a can of already opened Red-Bull, the cinnamon shaker and the mug holding his three shot of espressos (waiting for the addition of milk to his liking, decreasing by the increase of his stress level) were all next to each other. So when he accidentally picked the can and poured the contents of it inside his mug, it wasn’t on purpose.
But it got him an A on his Constitution Law paper so the next time he had a big dead-line coming up he did it again.
And now after mainlining three of them, running across campus for his Tort Law final, the tightness in his chest seems like a predictable outcome. What Alex doesn’t expect is for his arms to go tingly and lose the sensation in his legs. His vision goes blurry, the ground coming closer and closer. And the last thing his mind registers before it all goes black is the incessant ringing in his phone and Henry’s contact name- ‘HRH Dickhead 💩’ popping up on his screen.
As always this is an open tag to anyone who wants to participate and some no-pressure attached tags are under the cut!!! So sorry if you already posted and I missed it, like I said I had to adult all day and I hate it 😔 and if you guys don’t wanna be tagged lmk!!
@agame-writes @affectionatelyrs @absolute-audacity @anchoredarchangel @anincompletelist @bitbybitwrites @cha-melodius @cheesecurdsgravyandfries @cricketnationrise @clottedcreamfudge @daisymae-12 @dumbpeachjuice @emmalostinwonderland @everwitch-magiks @firenati0n @gayrootvegetable @heybuddy-drabbles @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @inexplicablymine @indestructibleheart @indomitable-love @i-am-freyja @junebugclaremontdiaz @kiwiana-writes @littlemisskittentoes @lizzie-bennetdarcy @msmarvelouswinchester @myheartalivewrites @ninzied @nocoastposts @orchidscript @porcelainmortal @read-and-write- @rmd-writes @sweetmidnights @sherryvalli @smc-27 @songliili @theprinceandagcd @three-drink-amy @zwiazdziarka
#rwrb#firstprince#rwrb fanfiction#first prince#firstprince fanfic#rwrb fanfic#wip game#red white and royal blue fanfic#red white & royal blue fanfic#red white and royal blue fanfiction#wip wednesday#god why are wednesdays so busy#i just wanna post wips#don’t mix redbull with coffee kids
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i know that when a restaurant/food manufacturer brags about having a plant-based ingredient in something, it's meant to be in contrast to an entirely artificial ingredient, but it always gives me horrible visions of a world in which there is meat-based caffeine.
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-Flood me like Atlantic-
Chapter 7
Word count: 2.5k
Warnings: Strong allusions to/descriptions of to Self h@rm. bl00d, swearing, general 18+ content but nothing way too explicit this chapter. Some slightly fluffy vibes as a break from all the shit because my boy has been through it.
“Have you forgotten, my Vessel?”
“No.”
“Does it tempt you? The light?”
“Not as such. The light hurts my eyes, and there is no music in it. I cannot be somewhere where music is not.”
“You do well. Stay in the dark, my pretty voice. And wait for my words.”
“Yes…”
It’s not a dream. But at the same time, he’s not awake. He’s locked in the space between his mind and his eyelids; a dark place where he can’t move or think beyond the words coming out of his mouth, words that don’t even feel like his own. And yet here there’s a strange sort of peace here; a foreign, fearless, silence of his thoughts. He knows his purpose when he’s here.
“Yes…” his lips form the word over and over. He’s glad he’s finally found the point of having his mouth; to create the word and know that in this void, he is approved of because of it.
Suddenly there’s eyes in the dark. They’re blue as glaciers and round as planets and for a second he feels his Eden being invaded. Then the vision suddenly vanishes, and in its place is sunlight.
And a headache.
A splitting, horrible headache.
He blinks a few times to get the world into focus, and suddenly realizes that someone is standing directly over him. He barely has a second to process the enormous blue eyes blinking down at him before the person turns their head and yells out of the room, “guys! He’s wakin’ up, guys!”
It’s the drunk drummer he met at the bar.
Vessel tenses, fingers clawing the blanket now half on the floor and pulling it up over his bandaged chest. He’s still blinking, trying to figure out if last night's events were real and, if so, where the hell he is, when a second person comes into the room. He looks more put together than anyone he’s seen so far, leaning against the doorframe with a calmly curious look on his face. He eyes Vessel slowly, smiling politely when their eyes meet.
“Goodmorning.” He says.
Vessel is starting to feel enormous sympathy for every bug he’s ever uncovered and examined when flipping over garden stones.
There’s dusty sunlight pouring in through the window frames, bathing both him and the tiny living room/music room/three men live here and it shows room. And the big blue eyes of the drummer are still on him, hovering about two feet away and waiting patiently for him to do something.
“Hello.” Is what he manages.
“Damn, you’re a bit busted huh mate?” The drummer says, eyes sympathetic now as he swipes his unruly hair. “Not great.”
“No, not great.” Vessel has to agree. He still hasn’t moved. “Um, II, right?”
The drummer smiles. “Nice memory! Good on you, man. IV, come introduce yourself.”
the guitarist shrugs off of the doorframe, wandering over casually and nodding down at the man on the couch.
“IV.” He says.
Vessel nods awkwardly, trying not to stare at the very noticeable sling around his shoulder. But the guitarist obviously notices his inner turmoil, because he instantly waves him off. “aye, I’ve got a break from practice for a few weeks, I’m grateful. If III tries to blame you though tell him he’s crazy, it was my clumsy ass.”
Before Vessel can reply, another voice fills the room.
“Don’t try and make him feel better.”
All eyes suddenly turn to the doorway, where a now familiar figure is standing, messy hair pulled back in a knot and an enormous steaming mug in his hand. His robe hangs loose off his angular frame.
He just hovers there, eyeing the space between II and Vessel like at any moment the caffeine might kick in and he’ll jump for it; ready to tear the half-living singer a new one if given any reason. Vessel takes the warning and doesn’t so much as breathe too deeply.
Meanwhile, II sits down beside him without a fear in the world.
“Sorry you had to put up with III as a nurse.” He laughs, folding his hands in his lap. “One time I tripped on the step and sprained my damn ankle, and he had to carry me bridal-style back inside. Grumbled the whole way, then just fucking dumped me here too.” He gestures at the sofa and the man currently trying to shrink himself on it, a laugh still on his lips. He glanced back at III. “didn’t even make me soup.”
“I can’t fucking make soup.” The bassist says, gripping his mug with ring-decorated fingers- a few of the stones Vessel recognizes, some of the fatter rocks and symbols he doesn’t- and taking a long swig. “And if you didn’t get soup, there’s no way he is. We’ll probably have the cops beating down the door any fucking second looking for his busted ass.” He glares at Vessel, making eye contact sharp enough to cut new stripes into his skin. “Time to head out, bruv.”
A sudden flush of embarrassment climbs up Vessel’s chest, turning his bloodless cheeks pink as he blinks back. He feels practically naked right now; wearing his emotions on his face and a pair of baggy black sweatpants low on his hips. And the increasing certainly that he’s incapable of walking doesn’t exactly make him feel safe right now, either. Who are these people? Why are they held up in a cabin in the woods, and how much goddam witchcraft have they been doing up here? For all he knows, they could be in league with Venus. Is the voice in his head something they conjured up?
Silence!
The command rips through his brains like a bullet. He winces, scrunching his eyes as a gasp leaves his mouth. A gentle hand grabs his shoulder.
“Hey, you alright mate?” II asks, eyes searching his miserable face.
“He’s not going anywhere.” IV says, blinking down at the sight. He turns back to III, who himself even looks a little concerned at the way Vessel is shaking.
“He’s got no strength in him, man. I’m gonna make some fuckin breakfast, then we can talk.”
The guitarist walks past his friend in the doorway, sliding into what must be the kitchen.
“Fine.” III says, passing his mug between his two hands and tapping painted nails on the porcelain. “But if the cops show, one of you two is answering the fuckin door.”
And just like that he leaves, turning back down the hallway and closing himself up in the same bedroom he’d got the sweatpants from.
“Don’t worry about it, man.” II says, trying to look understanding as the trembles in Vessel’s shoulders settle and he gathers his breath, blinking his eyes back open to the world. “Whatever happened to you, you can tell us or not. ‘Matters is, you’re fine now, eh? IVy’s gonna cook something up, then you can just hang around long as you need. Make some music.”
The idea of singing feels like it hasn’t crossed his mind in millennia, much less doing it for them. But there’s a strange comfort in the way the drummer looks at him with those big, soft blue eyes.
He manages a grin, and nods.
Meanwhile pots are starting to clang in the next room, the smell of eggs wafting into the dusty parlor like a sign from god.
• • •
He remembers the feel of the carpet beneath his feet. The way his shoulder collapsed against the wall, rattling the picture frames smiling down at him.
“…m,mom?”
He remembers clutching his wrist, seeing double as something seeped dark and thick from between his fingers. He didn’t mean for there to be that much.
“M…mom!”
Her silhouette filled the end of the hallway, casting a shadow down to him. Her face went white as a ghost.
“What’s wrong?” She demanded, hurrying to him. She wrenched his arm off of his chest, a horrified gasp leaving her lips.
“Jesus Christ, how did that happen? Did you do this on purpose?!”
“It was an accident.”
“You’re fucking thirteen. You know not to play with knives, fucking hell…”
“I’m sorry.” He sobbed. His heart was gonna beat out of his chest. He was dying.
Her hands felt cold on him, prying at his fingers around the warm blood to get a better look.
“Get into the bathroom right now.” She ordered. She sounded like she might cry too, but not now- she always did her crying later.
“And stop crying.” She said, ushering him down the hallway. “You’re gonna wake up your sister.”
“I’ll do it.” II says, reaching an arm across Vessel. IV takes the salt shaker from his friend's hand and nods his thanks.
Vessel shakes from the daydream, shoving his arms underneath the table. The sleeves of II’s hoodie barely go past his wrists.
“Huh?”
“That bandage coming loose on your head?” III asks, picking at his steaming pile of eggs and toast. “IV was talking to ya.”
“Sorry.” He says, reaching for his own fork. The sleeve slides up his arm again and he tugs it back down with an age-old instinct, trying to politely search for a bite.
“What was that?”
“Just asking for the salt.” IV says, trying to smile at him. Though the thing comes out looking pretty full of pity. “Hey, how’re you feeling now, mate?”
Truthfully, he feels like he might throw up any minute. But at least the imminent threat of passing out seems gone.
“I could use a cup of tea.”
III’s face seems fixed in a permanent look of distaste, but he doesn’t say anything as II jumps up from the little round table and heads to the counter, filling the kettle from the tap. “Oh, fucking me too!” he says, bringing that same endearing enthusiasm into every word he says. Vessel’s heart flutters a bit at the man’s eagerness; when was the last time someone made him tea?
“Pick your poison, Vess.” He says, turning on the stove and reaching for a little decorated box beside the sink. “We’ve got Earl Grey, English Breakfast… and this funky Jasmine Rose one III got. Tastes a bit ass, honestly. Not good with milk and sugar.”
III shoves a forkful of eggs into his face and rolls his eyes. “Anyone who needs milk and sugar to enjoy tea doesn’t get a damn opinion.” He’s very blatantly avoiding Vessel’s face now, just glances at IV as II chuckles and pulls out two bags of English breakfast. “IV, you like it don’t you?”
The guitarist just smirks, taking a slow sip of his creamy coffee. His eyelashes flick down to Vessel, who’s currently fumbling with only his third bite of food. “No comment.”
“What?! I thought you liked it, I fully got another fucking box in my bag, man! You were slurping it down the other morning during practice.”
IV shrugs, seemingly content when a fourth bite passes Vessel’s lips. “Felt good on my throat… Still tastes shit.”
“You sing?” Vessel suddenly asks, surprised to hear his own voice. He sits up straighter, casting his eyes to the man beside him.
Suddenly II starts laughing behind III, clinking a lid down on a pretty brown teapot. “not like you, he doesn’t.” He says, eyes twinkling in the steam. “He screams. I swear to god, if we had neighbors they’d be scared shitless. At least the squirrels don’t seem to mind.” He pulls two mugs from the cupboard and sets them down. “I think they’ve made him their banshee leader.”
IV’s laugh is deep and soft, filling the little kitchen with even more warmth than the sunlight streaming in. “I can sing normal, too.” He swipes his hair out of his eyes, taking another sip of his drink. “ jus’ not as fun.”
“Aye, not so loud.” III says. And now his eyes dart to Vessel’s, gluing him down. “We’ve got a soft tenor in the room.”
Vessel’s eyes go a shade darker. He doesn’t peel them off of the bassist across from him.
“I can scream.” He says.
IV seems intrigued, though both he and II seemed fixed on the tension between the singer and bassist. “Oh? You like to fry?”
Vessel swallows. “Sometimes.” He says, breaking eye contact only long enough to take the mug II offers him. He mumbles a thank you.
“But I like it deeper, goes better with my songs.”
“You’ve gotta sing for us at some point, mate.” IV says. “That performance you gave at the bar was something else, but if you’re serious about it, you can’t hold out on us. We could harmonize.”
“Maybe.” Vessel’s eyes go a little wide as II tips a jug of milk into his tea, stirring a mound of white sugar into the mix like a true Englishman.
“Maybe later.” The tea scalds down his throat, but the taste is a comfort all the same. His tongue darts out across his lips and he rolls them awkwardly, uncertain how much longer he can take the eyes of the bassist on him. He forces a chuckle. “Not sure if III would uh, like that.”
“You kidding?” II says, smiling contentedly after a long sip of his nearly completely white tea. “III loved your singing, said it was the best voice he’d ever heard! Your pitch could go so well in a heavier mix, and he was about ready to play a riff for you right then and there when I found him before our show.” He doesn’t seem to notice how red III’s face is turning, instead smiling over at IV, who seems more than amused. “If shit hadn’t gone down on our set, I think III woulda hauled you up on the stage with him in a heartbeat.”
Vessel is speechless. There’s no way III actually liked his voice. Although, there was the healthy gap between his performance and the black eye he received for the man to have had second thoughts on the scrawny kid and his fucked up keyboard. Vessel’s wide eyes go straight to his lap, any and all words escaping him as III turns progressively redder across from him.
“Isn’t that right, III?” The drummer asks, now potentially aware of the effect his words have. He’s grinning too big. “Didn’t you say you wanted to hear him sing with some bass?”
“Bass can level up any performance.” III says, planting his elbows on the table. His hair falls into his face as he looks down to pick at his chipped nail polish. “But it’d be better with an actually good scream.”
“Don’t worry.” Vessel says, something brave stirring in his chest now that he’s got a sudden vantage on the man who’s been pushing him around like a trolly ever since they’ve met.
“I can scream loud enough, for you.”
The imminent silence is interrupted as II chokes violently on his tea.
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Bowled Over (Roy Kent x Reader): Chapter Seven
You work at a bowling alley and a young girl named Phoebe has a birthday party there. You catch her uncle's eye.
Roy Kent x female reader
Will try to update roughly every two weeks
Chapter Seven: Deserving Something Good
(2.4k words)
Warnings: Roy Kent-level language (you know what you're in for), periods, past medical trauma, injury, mentions of addiction, fluff
Summary: Roy considers the results of his disastrous night out. He tells Phoebe about them, with your support.
Due to the throbbing in his very-swollen knee, Roy hardly slept. He could have taken the prescription he’d been given in hospital, but he refused because he didn’t want to get addicted; he’d seen a few rivals fall to it during his career, and he wasn’t going to let that happen to him. Plus, a small, niggling part of him felt he didn’t deserve the relief, since he knew he had felt warning signs that his knee was going to give out on him but had ignored them and kept bowling. So he spent most of the night awake and in pain.
It hadn’t been a completely horrible night, though. He’d found the fucking courage to talk to Splits, he kept thinking smugly. They were official now. And she’d said that she didn’t think he was old, which was a sweet lie. Hopefully he didn’t fuck it up with her and would be able to keep her around for a while.
Roy did manage to sleep for a few hours, which was honestly more than he expected. He naturally woke up around 3:30, when he would have gotten ready for a run with Jamie, and texted the young superstar that he wasn’t feeling up to it this morning, and to go without him. After receiving an emoji in reply, Roy battled his way up and into the downstairs bathroom for a shower. Thankfully he’d kept the shower chair from last time he’d fucked his knee.
He hit a slight snag after the shower: he hadn’t thought to ask Splits to grab him fresh clothes for this morning, so he had to put his pajamas back on. He always tried not to wear them when Phoebe stayed with him, as he wasn’t sure how appropriate it was for an 11-year-old to see her uncle in boxers. Couldn’t be helped now, though.
He hadn’t thought to replenish his supply of contacts down here, either. Roy had started wearing dailies during the pundit gig at Sky Sports, when he’d realized that he couldn’t read the prompters, but it was something he kept hidden. Not even his family knew that his vision was shit now, but that would have to change today.
Later in the morning, Roy was in the kitchen. He’d dragged a barstool in front of the stove and stress baked a loaf of quick rise bread. While it had risen, he’d dug through his junk drawer, which was the hiding place for the pair of glasses he’d bought in case he’d hated the contacts. They were simple black plastic frames, and they’d never been worn before today.
Roy was sipping coffee and reading with his back to the house while the bread finished cooling when Phoebe came out of her room. He didn’t look up, or turn his stool, when he heard her enter.
“Morning, Phoebe,” he droned. “Sleep well?”
The man heard a thunk. He swiveled the barstool and saw his niece’s head on the counter. “So that’s a ‘no,’ then?” he asked.
When Phoebe spoke, it was in a growl that would have made Roy proud under different circumstances. “I feel like shit,” she said. “Being an adult sucks.”
Roy hadn’t forgotten about her new ailment. He had a mug of coffee, which he’d never allowed Phoebe before, that he plunked down on the counter in front of her. When she raised her head, she first double-taked at it, and then at her uncle’s face.
“Since when do you wear glasses, Uncle Roy?”
“Since I got old, Pheebs. It’s been a couple of years. Now drink up; Keeley always said caffeine helped when she was on her period. I’ve got all the fancy creamers and shi- crap in the fridge.”
Phoebe hopped down from her barstool, took the mug, and lumbered to the refrigerator. As she poured out an unholy amount of vanilla creamer, Roy said one more thing that made her give him a glare.
“Erase the tab. You used a bad word. That was our deal.”
Although she glared, Phoebe knew better than to argue with Uncle Roy about the tab. Their one rule about it was that, if she got caught swearing before the end of the month, that month’s debt was reset, and he didn’t have to pay her for any of his language before the reset point, only everything after.
That didn’t stop her from going to her room, bringing back her notebook, and making a great show of ripping out, crumpling, and throwing away the page where she’d been tallying his language. It was so exaggerated that Roy couldn’t help but laugh.
“Do you want some French toast? As a peace offering? I made the bread this morning.”
Phoebe nodded and tried her vanilla creamer. Roy reached for a pan in one of the cabinets, but it was just out of reach from his barstool, and he only managed to knock it onto the floor with a metallic clatter. He and Phoebe both flinched at the noise, Roy more so. He hoped he hadn’t woken up his girlfriend upstairs.
His girlfriend. Upstairs. Fuck, Phoebe didn’t know that he’d finally gotten the balls to ask Splits out officially, or that she had spent the night in his bed. Granted, he hadn’t also been in his bed, but still. He typically tried to set a good example for Phoebe.
The noise had woken her up, it turned out. Footsteps thumped across the ceiling, and he could hear the shower running. About 20 minutes later, Splits came downstairs. Her hair was wet, and when she sat down at the bar to say good morning, Roy could smell all of his soap, shampoo, and deodorant on her.
“I hope you don’t mind I used your shower,” she said. “And your product.”
He didn’t mind, although he was embarrassed that he couldn’t remember the last time he’d cleaned the shower. But seeing her there in his stolen tee shirt and joggers, smelling like him… it felt right. His house didn’t feel empty with her and Phoebe in it. For once, it had people in it; people he was making breakfast for, surprisingly feeling like he deserved this slice of a quiet existence. Like he could smile without trying to hide it.
Phoebe was watching him with her hand over her mouth, like she was hiding her own smile. He stared at her until she looked away, and then turned his attention back to the stove, and his girls’ breakfasts. French toast was easy to make, and he quickly had three plates ready for eating.
“Right, come take yours,” grunted Roy. “I can’t carry it for you.” He looked to the woman wearing his extra pajamas, and as soon as he was close enough, pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Good morning, babe.”
“Good morning,” she returned with a peck on the forehead. “Nice glasses. Very studious.”
“Thanks, I fucking hate them. Can you grab my plate for me? I can’t manage it and the barstool and the crutches.”
She happily obliged, and even grabbed his coffee before he realized he’d need help with it. She was an angel. After Roy dragged his knee and his stool back to the bar, he sat down close enough that his arm was brushing hers. Phoebe was watching them both intently.
“You weren’t this touchy last night,” the girl observed, “and it looks like Miss Splits slept here.”
With a grunt, Roy said, “That’s because she did. It was too late for her to walk home, and I obviously couldn’t drive her.”
“Did she sleep in your room, Uncle Roy?”
Fuckin’ hell, this child. How was he going to explain this to Phoebe? Or, he realized, to his sister? He wasn’t just corrupting his niece; he was corrupting Sofia’s daughter. She would make his life a living hell if he didn’t get this right. Roy tried to think of what he could possibly say to explain this, but a gentle hand laid on his arm caused him to momentarily forget the English language.
“Yes Phoebe, I slept upstairs in your Uncle Roy’s room, but that’s only because he was a gentleman and slept downstairs on the couch,” explained Splits.
“And because I can’t drag my ass up those stairs,” Roy growled.
Phoebe marked the first tally on a new sheet in her notebook. “Okay, so she slept here. And borrowed pajamas.” Her subtext was clear; she was hinting that she knew something had happened between the two adults the previous night, but she didn’t know exactly what.
“We didn’t do anything naughty, Phoebe,” said Splits. She shot a side-eyed glance at Roy as if to ask are you going to tell her, or am I?
The man grunted to clear his throat, trying to find the words. “Okay,” he ground out, “last night, after you went to bed, I talked to Splits and asked her to be my girlfriend.”
Leaning forward eagerly, Phoebe asked, “And?”
Roy felt his face go all relaxed as the tension left it. He was aware that his smile was threatening to take over, but he didn’t seem to be able to fight it. “And we’re going out.” God, that sounded so dorky! He was definitely getting old.
Phoebe was thrilled. She hopped off of her seat and squeezed herself between the couple to hug them. “That’s wonderful! She’s amazing, Uncle Roy. She helped me a lot last night.”
“Thank goodness for that. I didn’t know what to do. Speaking of, there are napkins in the cabinet by the shower in your bathroom. Do you need anything else?”
“No, I’m okay. I don’t feel as nauseous today. I should get ready for school, though, so I’ll put some in my bookbag.”
Phoebe gave the couple one last squeeze and then left the room, leaving them alone. Splits linked her arm through Roy’s and sighed happily as she looked up at him.
“You have stuff here?”
“What?” he shrugged. “I have a little sister, and have been around women before. I may not look it, but I do have some sympathy in me.”
She laughed. “You don’t project it often. It makes you more human when you do.”
“Hmm. That, and my shit knee. Work is going to be interesting. A gaffer who can’t walk? The press are going to have a fucking field day.”
Roy was trying to make light of it, but he was worried about the logistics of the next few weeks. He couldn’t drive like this, or do hours of standing at training and matches. Some of the tension must have returned to his face, because his girlfriend started rubbing small circles on his arm.
“Do you need a driver?” she asked. “I’m not scheduled today, so I can help out if you need me.”
Yep, she was an angel. He wasn’t one to ask for help – it was uncomfortably vulnerable – so she’d asked for him.
“That would be fuckin’ great. Thanks, babe.”
They spent the next few minutes plotting out the day. Roy made a quick list of everything he’d need from upstairs for the day, which Splits was happy to fetch for him. He wasn’t ready for the team to know about her, so she’d drop him off late, after dropping Phoebe at school and stopping at her flat so she could change into clean clothes. Those delays would hopefully mean that the team would be in the weight room by the time he limped into Nelson Road, and nobody would know about Splits. He knew it was only a matter of time before they found out, but he’d protect her anonymity as long as he could.
A few hours later, the plan had gone perfectly. Splits pulled up to the doors of the Earl Greyhound Training Facility, where there wasn’t another soul around to notice her behind the wheel of Roy’s monstrous vehicle, or see how he almost fell out of it as he tried to maneuver the crutches. After he caught himself, he just stood there looking at Splits.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Just- Thank you for everything the past 12 hours. Couldn’t have done it without you handling all this girlfriend-level shit.”
“I’m glad to do it,” she smiled, and Roy almost felt guilty, like he didn’t deserve someone this great. She continued, “When do you need to be picked up?”
Tilting his head, Roy thought aloud. “You don’t have to pick me up. Jamie lives close, and he owes me for the extra training, so I can probably guilt the prick into driving.”
Splits wilted a bit, like she’d wanted to drive him. Now that he thought about it, he realized that she’d enjoyed getting to drive. And he knew she didn’t have wheels of her own.
“Do you want to borrow the car for a bit?” he blurted out.
His question surprised her. He’d surprised himself, to be honest. “Are you sure, Roy?”
“It’s not like I can fucking use it. You’d be doing me a favor, really; the battery’ll die if nobody drives it, and then I’ll have to call somebody to change it.”
“Roy, I can’t take your car. It’s…” Splits struggled to find an argument, which amused him. “I do like driving it,” she conceded.
“Then take it, babe. Use it to pick me up on the days you’re not working, and I’ll guilt Jamie into doing the rest.”
“I’ll have to meet Jamie properly, since we’ll be sharing custody of you.” Her eyes sparkled at her joke, but Roy could only roll his.
“I’m not letting you anywhere near each other,” he growled. “I’ll never have any peace.”
“Yeah, but you’ll be surrounded by people who care for you, which can’t be all bad.”
Hope blossomed in Roy’s chest as he thought about having people. He didn’t want to believe it, so he waved a dismissive hand at Splits.
“Hmm. You don’t know Tartt. Fucking annoying little prick. I should get in there, make sure he isn’t getting out of hand.”
Splits nodded, a fond smile on her face. “Okay, boyfriend. Have a good day, and let me know if you need anything.”
“You have a good day, too. Have fun driving the Beast.”
“I will!”
Roy closed the passenger door and gave a wave. She waved back and tapped the horn twice before driving away, leaving Roy to gather his courage, summon his sternest coach face, and hobble into training.
If anybody questioned the crutches, they were going to fucking get it.
Tag list: @preciousbabypeter @harry-bowie-mercury @amieinghigh @onceuponaoneshot @chewymoustachio @my-neurodivergent-world
#roy kent bowled over#roy kent#roy kent x reader#ted lasso#ted lasso fanfiction#mutual pining#slowish burn#reader is a bowler#because I was a bowler#hence the terrible pun title#my writing#no editing we die like men
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how to exit your lazy era — level up, stay motivated and make 2024 your best year🕯️
Firstly why do we even get stuck in our lazy era?
no motivation
you just faced a major failure
not seeing the results you want after working for so long
a way of procrastinating
an easy way to put away all your important task aside
“It’s easy to not do anything in life. It doesn’t even require any effort whatsoever.”
How to overcome this?
Plan your days earlier
Honestly we often hear people giving all sort of tips and tricks to be productive, but the thing is nothing works unless you have a vision for how your day is going to look like. Didn’t they say this?
“Visualization is the key to manifestation.”
2. Start your day with a boost of motivation
This is coming from a personal experience of mine. The only way I overcome my morning sickness was actually by quickly hitting the play button of my favorite motivational podcast as soon as I switch off my alarm. Now it feels like an autopilot mode. For real, try it out.
“Motivation is what gets you started. Habit is what keeps you going.” — Jim Ryun
3. Do what you love first thing first
Game-changer. It is one of the prime reason why I LOVE (not like) but LOVE getting up early after discovering the main hack of morning routine which is to do something that truly excites you to your very core.
It could be painting, reading, dancing, journaling, writing, singing, working out, walking, sitting outside sipping your favorite coffee, walking your dog, or literally not even doing anything. Whatever that soothes you, calms your soul and rejuvenates your being. BOOM! That’s exactly what you need to do as soon as you’re up.
For me personally, I love meditating, reading while sipping my coffee and just spending time with nature. The serenity and tranquility can’t be put into words to be honest!
“Slow morning is the recipe to my productivity for real.”
4. Sweating it out
Have you ever been in a situation (I'm sure we all have been in this one) where your body feels sluggish after lunch probably in the late noon? YES! It feels so horrible like you can’t keep your eyes open without consuming doses of caffeine.
Plus working from home is becoming a norm after the pandemic, therefore being stagnant is becoming more of a common trait that binds all of us together. Sitting still in front of your PC, sending emails through your handphone, recording content and et cetera.
This constant stagnation is actually preventing the daily movement our body needs to rejuvenate. Therefore, when we don’t get it that’s when the laziness kicks in. We do know the root problem right now and the root solution would be to move your body as often as you can.
Working out doesn’t need to fit into this standard practice social media has eluded us all by the frame of being in the gym. Honestly there’s more than that.
Hike
Run
Jog
Stroll
Swim
Sauna
As long as you are sweating, you’re good my friend.
5. Vision board
Vision board is one of the easiest, accessible and FUN thing you can do to get yourself out of the rut. I don’t think so we need to go all around again to get the gist of vision board but it would be incomplete if I don’t share this secret with you.
Make a physical and a digital board. The physical one plays a role to be sitting in a space where you spend most of your time at. For instance, your office, work-studio, hostel and et cetera.
And the digital one is as important as the physical one because most of the time we are indulged or I would say obliged to our gadjets these days. Therefore, by setting your vision board as your lock screen wallpaper is definitely going to give you the sense of awakening your mind needs whenever you feel you’re slacking off.
PS: Pinterest is a great tool you can start off with.
6. Use your bank balance as a source of motivation
This is such a good way to actually get you moving. It’s a source of trigger that makes you question yourself like:
How am I supposed to achieve all of my goals on the vision board if I am not taking any sort of action from my side?
That million-dollar home, vacation and experience is not going to come alive if you’re just sitting and wishing for it.
7. Read self help books
I am sure everybody who’s legit on
Medium
platform is an avid-reader. I am not going to speak about the power of books because you know it all. The key is just to pick the right books according to your current life’s situation.
The main gist today is to help you exit your lazy era. So here are some book recommendations from my side.
Atomic Habit by James Clear
Think and Grow Rich by Napoleon Hill
Man’s Search for Meaning Viktor E. Frankl
The Richest Man in Babylon by George S. Clason
Meditations by Marcus Aurelius
The Miracle Equation by Hal Elrod
Psycho-Cybernetics by Maxwell Maltz
The Concise 48 Laws of Power by Robert Greene
The 5 Second Rule by Mel Robbins
Think Like A Monk by Jay Shetty
The Power of Now by Eckhart Tolle
Stillness is the key by Ryan Holiday
PS: What’s your favorite self-help book? Reply to this.
Stick till the very end because I am sharing with you the main HACK that nobody talks about.
8. Design your environment in a way that motivates you
We all have heard the phrase how your environment influences you. The least you could do is be conscious of how powerful your social circle is, the people whom you hangout with, the people whom you work with, the people you choose to have relationships with and the place you choose to live in.
It’s these little things that makes the most difference in your life at the end of the day.
9. Step out if that’s what you need
Honestly, a change of environment is what you need sometimes. Our body, out entire being recognizes when we are stuck in the same space for quite some time and this could be the #1 reason why you’ve been procrastinating. Probably you could do this:
Go to your favorite restaurant/café
Work from the library
Honestly choose a spot where you feel you could really maximize your potential and somewhere that actually motivates you to step up. Do better!
10. Allow yourself to be lazy at times
AHHHH! This is the magic pill I was speaking about. I realized nobody seems to tell you this but let’s be real. The only way to exit your lazy era is by giving yourself room to actually be lazy. You can’t expect yourself to transform overnight. You can’t expect to be productive 24/7. You can’t expect yourself to meet all the high standards you’ve set yourself up to.
And I want you to know this. It’s okay to be lazy sometimes. It’s okay to catch yourself not doing anything sometimes. But always remember this.
You shall only reward yourself to be lazy when you’ve absolutely fulfilled the promise you’ve made. The tasks you need to complete. The assignments you need to submit. The thesis you need to work on. The presentation you need to deliver.
Trust me if you implement all of the above habits, you would realize this:
“It’s the small changes in your daily life that you needed all along for your long-term success.”
#productivitytips#productivity#100 days of productivity#productivity challenge#productivityboost#social productivity business#productive#studying#career#life hacks#on writing#writing#writers on tumblr#writeblr#wri#writers and poets#writerscommunity#creative writing#writers block#novel writing#writer stuff#writer community#writer#female writers#writblr#writer things#reading community#reading corner#new blog#blogs
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paper rings snippet!! (teachers!spiderdads)
my exams are hell!! but finally thank god i have a break
have something from me <3
chapter 2 snippet :D
not exactly a spiderdads clip but it has loser Miguel so
"You're really bad at this," Lyla says.
She sits at his table, an iced something or whatever in her hands. Miguel wished she went with something more normal as a greeting, like hello, or good morning. Or. maybe just a nice shirt Miguel, is that stain from Gabriella's lunch you prepared this morning? Even that would be better.
"What did I do?" He hasn't even done anything this morning. He walked in for a coffee five minutes ago, he literally has not been in school long enough to have things to be judged for.
Early mornings are never wasted in Brooklyn Visions. Keeping up the reputation of a nerd school, students have already been here before Miguel showed up. Despite the fact that they have dorms here that allow them to stay in and sleep more, kids are in this campus as soon as the security guard turns on the lights.
Today is no exception, and many students are already here. They're all poring over notes or rushing homework. Some people here may just be waiting for their friends, but there's an air of seriousness in this high school. It’s what Miguel likes so much about Visions, the fact that there’s not too much nonsense from the students.
But God is cruel, and his nonsense comes from the white-cardiganed woman who flashes her pink glasses at him.
“We haven’t seen you at lunch in a long time, Miguel. But you’re not even that good at being his friend.” He drinks his coffee, and somehow the jolt of caffeine doesn’t even hit him. He might not have had to make friends since he was in his twenties, but he isn’t horrible, alright?
“Not ‘alright’, it’s pathetic. You just let him talk at you, and you respond every three minutes to him. You get him food, but you’re functionally a babysitter.”
“If you want him to feel cared for, you have to know him. And he has to know you.” Peter knows enough about Miguel after a week of lunch. He knows Gabriella is in a soccer league, she goes swimming. She likes My Little Pony, and that the rainbow dash on Miguel’s table is from her.
It registers in Miguel. Other than his divorce. He doesn’t know anything about Peter. He listens to stories about his students and the news that appears on his Facebook, but that’s all. Peter gets him coffee, and he asks about his life and his kid. He even knows that he has a brother. Only Lyla knows that (And sends embarrassing photos to him, God.)
“If you actually want to make him less depressed about his life, you have to make the effort to care.” He is trying, you know? He looks down and watches his reflection on the plastic blue table. He keeps his head down when he asks, “So, what do I do?”
“Learn something about him. Try a bit harder, alright.”
new chapter coming out tmr/saturday!! love u all :D thank u for all ur support guys <3
#spiderdads#petermiguel#spider bite#peter b parker#miguel o hara#atsv#across the spiderverse#itsv#into the spiderverse#spiderman 209#spiderman 616b#ao3 updates#i forgor how 2 tag#teachers!spiderdads
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hi hello i very much enjoy your house + starbucks posts and with a few recent mentions of them i feel okay asking: what would you say about masters, park, and adams regarding hypothetical starbucks
ooh thank you!! i’m always excited when people enjoy my starbucks posts, I really enjoyed being a barista even though it paid horribly 🤣 And I love thinking of coffee orders for characters so thank you for requesting these three!! <33
Adams: caramel macchiatos for sure, almost always hot, but occasionally an iced one in the summer when it’s just too hot for hot coffee! in the fall I think she’d really enjoy the new seasonal apple crisp macchiato (she gets tired of PSLs). In the winter she’d love any of the gingerbread drinks for sure!
Park: Park gives me the vibes of a person who can and would drink almost anything at Starbucks and enjoy it. She just wants the caffeine and likes all the flavors, she’s not super picky and likes to mix it up and try new ones a lot! She strikes me as someone who likes to ask the barista what their favorite is and then order one of those. I think if she told me to make whatever fits I’d go with a dirty chai (a chai latte with espresso, two shots for her since she needs the caffeine) made with either oat milk or almond milk, and some cinnamon powder on top.
Masters: This one was the hardest to nail down, and then it came to me like a vision of the holy grail. Masters is a medicine ball girl. The real name for it is “honey citrus mint tea” and that’s what she’d call it because she’s lovely and polite and she’d always double check that we had honey in the back to use before ordering one. The recipe for it that I always use is one bag of citron green tea, one bag of peppermint herbal tea, two packets of raw honey, half hot water, and half steamed lemonade. Usually it’s a hassle to make these but Masters is so lovely and would always be so nice to chat with that I’d make one for her anytime, no problem <3
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more miscellaneous nilan facts:
Favorite scents are peach / nectarine and lavender. Wears perfumes or other scented items with notes of either in them.
Not very good at sports, but enjoys workouts at the gym. He does a lot of strength training.
Has taken self defense classes in tandem to this.
Has a particular distaste for marijuana and tobacco smoke (due to his lungs being quite sensitive, especially to the smell), though he has smoked other herbs ( such as tea leaves and mugwort ) in the past.
A huge coffee drinker... so much to the point of caffeine addiction: this manifests with the works. He gets lethargic and intense headaches when he goes without drinking it for too long.
An animal person whose favorite animals in particular are dogs and wolves. He often leaves kibble out for strays.
The uber driver of his friend group, but hates the act of driving due to road anxiety. Born to passenger princess, forced to pilot.
Favorite times of the day are twilight, when the moon is rising from the horizon at its largest and just before dawn, where the moon is falling and the world is quietest.
A bit of a drinker: enjoys sweeter drinks and cocktails, and on occasion with a good chaser, Hennessy.
Poor vision, near-sighted with cataracts. Inherited from both sides of the family. Fails all perception checks and any success at them is just pure luck.
Favorite music genres are RnB, numetal, and rap. He grew up on these genres, especially Atlanta based hip-hop and RnB.
An A-B student in college.
Considers himself a non-practicing Buddhist, but visits his local Wat (temple) every Sunday to offer alms to the monks.
Favorite foods from his culture? ຕົ້ມເຄັມຫມູ and ເຂົ້າປຸ້ນ.
Good sprinter, horrible long distance runner.
Favorite insect: butterflies.
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"I am happy that you are in good spirits and health again, dear."
"And that you have your partner by your side forevermore."
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Even if I haven't seen every part of the egb sadly because of work and exhaustion because of it, I was happy just reading the parts everyone send you haha (and the sabotage ehe) the afterparty was fun, even if i have to read a few pieces still.
But really Rin? Caffeine Withdrawal? 😂
The memory thing with the vision was a nice detail, not gonna lie.
Ps:// Albedo still clinging to the push ups in my phone on your profile picture...But it shouldn't be a problem anymore :)
ANTARES AAAAAAAAAA *pat pat* he's so majestic and pretty sobsob (cue dragon!zhongli in the background sulking)
oh dear i hope your work is calming down soon!!! and that you can take a rest this weekend!! your storyline was really interesting and it was too bad we couldn't explore it more, but still!! thank you for your support hehe <3 take your time reading, the posts won't go anywhere :D
queen. bestie i am not kidding when i say this. caffeine withdrawals are horrible. it makes you want to just. stay in bed and even then the pain is unbearable. i went through it once. never again. i'd... i'd rather fuel my coffee addiction shdlfjslkdfj
ah it's probably just the cache, it's okay, tumblr will resolve it soon (i hope) hsldfkjlsdfkj
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In Dreams [12/?]
Pairing: SanSan
Rating: T
Summary: By the time the three people in front of her have finished their coffee and food, they all three sport wide eyes, Sam is constantly opening and closing his mouth as if the words he wants to say do not come quickly enough. Arya is uncharacteristically silently gaping. To her surprise, it's Gendry who recovers first, "That's quite the tale, Sansa."
Words: 1000
Notes: Apologies for the delay, migraines have been hell.
Read @ AO3
While she prepares the coffee and some sandwiches, Sansa explains everything she has found, everything that Sandor has said and reluctantly, pulls the necklace he gave her.
By the time the three people in front of her have finished their coffee and food, they all three sport wide eyes, Sam is constantly opening and closing his mouth as if the words he wants to say do not come quickly enough. Arya is uncharacteristically silently gaping. To her surprise, it's Gendry who recovers first, "That's quite the tale, Sansa."
"It is, isn't it?" She agrees.
"May I take a look at the necklace?"
Had someone else asked, she would have said no. But Gendry is a smith and a jeweler. His work is impeccable and she trusts his opinion, so she offers the necklace to him and watches as he turns the necklaces over and inspects it.
It is then that Sam finally speaks. "You know Sansa, it wouldn't surprise me if Qyburn managed to keep Sandor alive one way or another." When she turns to him, he continues. "As you know, I was in the Citadel and... well, there's a forbiden area that I once sneaked in as a dare, and Qyburn's book was the one I snagged."
She feels dread filling her. "Was it too bad?" A thousand horrible images flash in her mind, and her heart goes out for Sandor and she desperately hopes that whatever Qyburn did, was not terrible.
Sam looks reluctant, but in the end, he speaks. "He wanted to reanimate bodies. Rumor has it that he managed it on one occasion." He says softly.
It is one of her worse fears, that Sandor was an experiment. "Was... was it so terrible?"
"The book didn't say," Sam says and she believes him. Sam has always been an honest person. "But I won't lie, Sansa. Qyburn was basically banned and his research destroyed. Let's hope that Sandor is fine."
"I hope so too," she says as she struggles not to shake. In order to feel a bit better, she turns to Gendry. "What's the professional opinion, Gendry?"
The three of them know what her question is, and let it go. Gendry nods and offers the necklace back. "A fine craftsmanship. At least five carats in solid gold, the cut is an old cut which is rare. All in all, should I be selling something similar, it would cost a pretty penny."
She has no intentions of selling it, but she appreciates his opinion. "Thank you, Gendry." Then, she turns to Arya. "You have been too quiet, should I be worried?"
Arya gives her a rude gesture, "Nope. Just... I think that for the first time ever, you actually blew my mind. But on a serious note... what do you plan to do?"
She sighs, "I'll be looking over the grounds. There has to be something somewhere."
The three of them share a look, then Arya speaks again. "Well, we're here. Why don't we do it now? You fed and caffeinated us, fair trade. Besides, I'm sure we could cover more ground and if we take all day, maybe you could do something to eat? That'll be payment." Arya snorts. "Okay, be in this adventure is cool and the food is an added bonus."
She feels her eyes sting, and tears blur her vision. But she blinks them away and gives them a grateful smile. "I would gladly feed you all. Any time. You all know this. Just... let me get something in the crockpot and we can get started."
She hurries to get everything ready for some pulled pork sandwiches, thanking her lucky stars that she has a package of coleslaw ready and all she has to do is simply mix everything. She has drinks and only has to do some French fries as a side. When she's done, she says, "His full name is Sandor Clegane. But he went by the moniker of The Hound, so keep your eyes peeled for either."
"Yes, boss!"
She laughs, turns the crockpot on, offers bottles of water and some baseball caps and then leads them outside. "Good luck to us all. Call if you find anything." As soon as she says that, the four of them make off in different directions.
She is walking slowly, turning every thing she finds in the sprawling yard. She cannot afford to miss a sign. She moves every piece of rock, every bush of flowers or plants, and doesn't take her eyes of the ground. If her mind weren't so busy with worry for Sandor, she would also be making plans for her yard. After all, it's quite sprawling and there are some wooded area that would hopefully be able to sustain her ideas.
The sun beats down on her, but for once, she doesn't mind. She needs all the light that she can have to make sure she doesn't miss a clue. But so far she has been quite unlucky. She stops for a moment, takes a deep breath and says. "Sandor, if you're listening, please help me find you."
Obviously, he does not respond, so she keeps looking. Desperately hoping to find anything that gives her hope. Then, in a moment of complete despair, she plops on the dirt floor and blinks back tears.
It is then, that she realizes that she is in the same spot where she and Sandor always meet. Her heart thunders in her chest and her hands begin to sweat, she breathes in deeply and exhales slowly, she needs to be calm. Maybe she's close now.
She carefully moves about, without a second thought, she falls to her knees and walks in all fours looking for something. Anything that tells her that Sandor is close and that she will find him.
Then, when she's about to give up. She spots a flat rock surrounded by yellow flowers. She rushes towards it, her heart and mind racing. Is this it? Oh, please, she thinks, let me find him.
She moves as much of the dust and weeds that she can off the rock. Then, she gapes. For there, engraved in the rock, there are three hounds.
#sansan#sansa x sandor#sansa & arya#sansa stark#arya stark#samwell tarly#gendry waters#asoiaf#asoiaf fic#au: modern westeros#multipart: in dreams
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Adventure on Wave Mountain
(a short story I wrote 6 years ago in a sleep-deprived caffeine-induced manic state and have finally summoned up the courage to share with the world)
One day, A fell in love with B. But B was more interested in C. Unfortunately, C had been captured by E, an evil magician, and was being held in the deepest dungeon of E’s castle, located at the top of Wave Mountain. They were being subjected daily to horrible magical experiments.
B proposed to A that the two of them go on a journey in order to rescue C. A agreed, adding that they could contact their friend, D, who had a large amount of knowledge about the terrain around Wave Mountain and could serve as a guide. D was a small spider who lived in a nearby village.
D agreed to help them. But what the two didn’t know is that D was secretly in love with A!
The three travelers made the long journey to the mountain. They faced many dangers, and were beginning to run low on supplies, but finally, just before morning, they made it to E’s dark castle at the mountain’s peak.
The companions opened the front door of the castle to find an entrance room with two other doors, one leading to the right and one to the left. D, who was skilled at detecting magic, examined both doors. “There’s a spell on each door allowing only one person to enter, so it looks like you two will have to split up. I don’t think it applies to nonhumans, though.” B decided that they would be fine alone, and so D went with A though the door on the left, while B went right.
B found themself in a smallish reception room containing some chairs and a desk. A lamp on the desk cast a cozy warm glow about the room. At the desk sat a guard named G.
G introduced themself and explained to B that this was the entrance to E’s dungeon—but to get in, B would have to beat G in a staring contest. B, though not physically strong, had a large amount of mental control over their own body, and so they agreed to the contest eagerly.
B sat down across from G and the two began to stare at each other. They stared for five minutes, ten minutes. To pass the time they started chatting. G told B about their childhood working in their parents’ bakery, before finding at age fourteen that they identified strongly with E’s evil cause and running away from home to join E and get a job as a guard. G had had many challengers, they told B, but they had never lost a staring contest.
As the two talked, however, something unusual happened. After so long staring at B’s face, and hearing about their life, G found themself feeling something they’d never felt before. B was so…beautiful. It seemed a shame to G to simply turn B away, as G had done to so many other challengers. G ached to keep talking to and looking at B. They were falling head over heels in love. But then G scolded themself, remembered why they were there. Protecting the castle was the most important thing. “My sincere apologies,” G said, pressing a button on the desk as they spoke, “but this is how the boss wants me to play.”
B saw a flash of light, an explosion, and then something red. And pain. They clenched their teeth together, determined to keep eye contact with G, but tried to use their peripheral vision to see what had happened on the desk. Their right hand had been blown clean off. Shards of wood that had been torn out of the desk were now embedded in their left hand and arms. A bomb. They felt sick, but kept their eyes on G, even more determined to win despite the unfairness of it all. E’s rules are not fair, B knew, but E sticks to them no matter what. So G will do the same. Even if my hand needs to be blown off, I’ll be allowed entry if I win.
G swallowed. Even the best starers had given up after the bomb was pulled on them, and usually it wasn’t even necessary. B must believe very strongly in their mission. And their hands, G thought…what have I done to the hands of such a kind, pretty, determined person! First one tear, then another came to G’s eyes, then many more. It was the first time they had ever cried in their life. G hid their head in their hands in shame, trying to cover the tears. G realized too late that they had broken eye contact.
G glanced at B, then looked down into their lap again. “Rules are rules,” they said, opening a drawer in their desk. “Who are you here to save?” “C,” said B. G selected a key from their drawer and handed it over. “Good luck,” they said. “You’re the first one to ever beat me and you deserve it. The dungeon is through this door back here.” B walked to the door they indicated, opened it. “But be warned that your troubles aren’t over yet,” G called as B went in.
Meanwhile, A and D were walking upwards, seemingly endlessly—a flight of stairs, then a hallway, then another flight. They finally found a locked door blocking their path. At first the two thought they were stuck, but then D, because of their small size, volunteered to go inside the lock and turn the bolts with their legs and A agreed. A watched D disappear into the lock, heard one click, then another, then 6 more. Then a voice: “There’s one bolt that I can’t reach, but with your strength you should be able to force the door open.” A wrapped their hand around the knob, then hesitated. “You’ll be ok?” “Hopefully,” came the reply. “Either way, we don’t have any other options.” “Alright then,” A said. “Get ready…” They twisted the knob, harder and harder, until with a sound of snapping metal it turned and the door swung open.
As the door opened A found themself face-to-face with E, who had been making some sort of dastardly magical concoction before they were interrupted. A froze on the spot in their fear of E’s power. Then, D fell out of the keyhole to the floor, and suddenly all of E’s attention was directed to the small spider—5 of D’s legs broken, desperately but unsuccessfully trying to stand.
E fell in love instantly. Who was this attractive spider, they wondered, who had somehow managed to get into their secret laboratory against all odds? I want this spider to be in my life forever, they thought. E strode past the cowering A and began to bend down to look at D. They’re hurt, E realized. Then A, in desperation, threw themself between the magician and the spider, crying, “stay back!”
“Get out of the way,” commanded E. “I need to heal that spider.” Heal?, thought A with confusion, but they said, “Not until you tell me where the dungeon is. I’m here to rescue a friend.” “Mhmm,” replied E in a sassy manner, “and since when was such a small human strong enough to order around such a powerful evil magician as I?” But then E realized that A’s left heel was poised above D. “Tell me or I’ll crush them,” A said grimly. Ignoring a startled squeak from D, they continued: “You want to have a chance of healing this spider, you’d better tell me where to go. I need to rescue somebody who’s important to a friend of mine.” “What a wet blanket,” sighed E. “It’s right down these stairs.” They pointed to another doorway in the back of the lab. A headed for the door, pausing to look back at the magician and D. “You’re really going to heal them? Aren’t you evil?” A asked. E replied: “You do you, and I’ll do me.” Apparently satisfied, A turned and continued towards the dungeon.
After descending a different, seemingly endless array of staircases, A went through a door and found themselves face-to-face with B. B sprawled on the ground, in despair, splattered with blood. Which seemed to be theirs. And missing a hand. “Fuck,” said A. “Shit.”
They wrapped their arms around B, tears falling from their eyes. “What happened?” But B could not answer. “We need to save C,” was all they said. “I have a key to their cell. It’s just over there.” A looked to where B was pointing, noticed what they hadn’t before. To their left there was no floor. Only a seething pit of what A immediately recognized as Hydrofluoric Acid. Across the pit, A could see another hallway, probably leading to C’s cell. And to get across—a row of bars, arranged like monkey bars, along the ceiling.
B stood up, hugged A. “We’re almost there,” they said. “I can’t use my hands, but you can go across, get C—it should be easy with your strength. Take the key,” they said, holding it out. “No,” A said, practically sobbing “I can’t—I just threatened to kill D, B. I was ready to kill one of my friends to save another. I can’t save C. I don’t deserve to.” “Yes, you can save C,” B replied. “I’ve done much worse than you did. People do what they have to in order to save loved ones. It’s ok. You can keep going.” A blinked, rubbed their eyes. Let go of B’s bleeding hand. “You’re right,” A said. “keep going…” They walked towards the pit. Grabbed the first bar. “Then you need to come with me,” they said, turning. “Because I’m pretty sure that door locked behind me. Hold on to my legs.”
“I guess you’re right,” said B, after checking the doors they both came in through. “Sure you can carry me?” “Of course,” said A. “What else is there to do?” So B grabbed onto A’s legs with their arms, and A swung onto the first bar, biceps straining to hold both of their weights. A was the strongest person B knew, and sure enough, they swung to the second bar, and the third, B holding on.
Suddenly, B heard a flapping sound. Some sort of cloud was approaching the two of them. As it got closer, B began to make out a flock of birds flying towards them. “Cave Pigeons!” they yelled to A, but before they had even finished the flock was upon them and all was a blur of feathers. B felt talons digging into their neck, their arms. They looked up to see that A was being attacked even more heavily. A had let go with one hand in an attempt to wave the pigeons away from their other hand, but every time they stopped the pigeons would come back and start clawing at the hand that was still holding on. Finally, A realized that all they could do was keep going. They began to reach out their right hand, now covered in cuts, to grasp the next bar, while the pigeons fluttered and clawed all around them. B watched as A tried once, twice, and on the third try finally managed to wrap their hand around the iron. A wasn’t going to make it, B realized. With all the blood on their fingers they wouldn’t be able to grip the bars and carry both of their weights. There was only one way, B thought, to avoid the two of them falling to their deaths.
“I’m so glad I was able to be friends with you!” B said to A. And they let go of A’s feet. “B!” A screamed. “No!” But all they could do was watch as B fell away from them forever.
C, leading A, took the steps up out of a secret dungeon exit into the pinkish light of morning on Wave Mountain. At the same time, E was emerging from the front door to watch the sunrise. D, legs healed, rode on their shoulder. C started in fear to see E, while A just looked at magician and spider dully. “Don’t worry,” said E, letting D down from their shoulder. “You three can be on your way whenever you’d like. I just really wanted to look at the sun rising over the mountains this morning.” A blinked, then turned to look at the rising sun. But what A saw was a funeral pyre, set adrift out into the infinite black oceans of space. Mourning B’s death. Only, the sun has always been a funeral pyre, A realized with a start. It’s a funeral pyre for everyone that has ever died, anywhere on the earth. A stood there, letting it wash them clean in its blinding pink light.
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I know it's supposed to be Worldbuilding Wednesday and all...but can you ramble a bit about Cas? Please tell me more about him & his most important relationship dynamics in your wip?
@writingonesdreams
I physically vibrated when I read this ask. Honestly it might be cause I drank caffeine while on my ADHD meds and I might want to check if that’s something that I’m not supposed to do. That or my body is finally shutting down with its last hurrah. But I swear I’ll answer this ask before that happens. Thank you so much @writingonesdreams!!!
Cas! My boy! My sweet child! I intend put him through so many horrible things! ✨ Let’s see…
I’d say Cas’ central trait is loyalty, and care for others, with many of his traits branching off of that central trunk of his personality. His selflessness, sacrifice and charity all stem from his care for his loved ones safety and well-being, as does his empathy for those around him. He’s got a heart like a roaring fire; strong, and bright, and burning hot, but if you tend to those flames and take care, you’ll have a heat that will make you feel safest in the world. He would do anything to protect and help those he loves, any hour, and place, he’s there at their side, through dark or light.
At the same time however, this loyalty can be twisted under certain circumstances into his flaws, his compassion and selflessness can make him neglect his own well-being, bottling up his problems and fears to not burden the others. He can forget that, they cherish him for who he is, not for what he can provide. He feels responsible if anyone gets hurt, as it’s his job to protect them. And, of course: He would do anything to protect his loved ones. Anything. Face anything, fight till he’s bruised and bloodied and then some, sacrifice everything, burn the world to the ground just to warm them in the cold.
More serious stuff aside and focusing on some more lighthearted stuff, and his positive traits! He’s hardworking, sometimes a bit too much so, things he can’t figure out frustrate him, and he will use spite as his fuel to get something done if it irritates him.
He’s surprisingly gentle when he needs to be, despite how loud or passionate he may seem at times, if the moment requires it he can calm down and be quiet, and calm, and his emotional maturity is something that will definitely round out over the course of his arc.
He’s loud, lively, loving, makes the most of his time and prefers to look at life in an optimistic way, believing in the good there is in the world, and enjoying the moments as they come ✨
As to relationships and dynamics! I’d imagine that the whole main cast of my WIP is very tight knit, Found Family Plus, with a very open and trusting familial energy and platonic love between them all, like siblings, LOTS of banter and inside jokes once they get to really know each other and forge those bonds, especially as they meet new people ✨ Note: All the below dynamics are mainly the dynamics they will eventually form, and not the immediate ones as, well, Cas will meet all these people in his story
Cas met Ciro first, and Ciro him. They form a bond that evolves into platonic and familial love that lets them trust each other completely, with their lives. Of everyone of the main cast, Ciro is the one Cas would go to first if anything happened or if he needed to talk about anything, bad dreams, visions, emotional trouble, anything and everything. I picture the two of them often staying up late and just talking about things, or sitting in the silence together.
Alix is like a younger sibling to Cas, someone for whom he’d give his life for without a seconds hesitation, whom he cheers for when they succeed, who he’s eager to see fulfill their goals, someone who he has an admiration for in the same way someone may admire their younger sibling; celebrating every success, helping them overcome struggle, saying “I’ve gone through this alone, let me help you so you have it easier!”
Cyril and Adira are his mentors, at the same time both a mix of a parental figure as well as older sibling, takings sort of role as Cas does with Alix, and simultaneously both treating the whole younger cast like their children. With their experiences however, especially Adira, they feel a need to help prepare them for the world, for all its dangers. They both see parts of themselves in Cas, both those parts good and those parts bad, and hope to be there for him to help root those negatives out.
Tamara is a character I’ve regrettably not thought about much, but, taking this opportunity as with the others to try and form a more concrete idea of their dynamic in my head; They’re very much the duo who crank each other up to 11 when they get into conversation, in a “ok but how about!” energetic, hyper way, not an argument way. Think two people walking side by side, both speeding up as they try to match the others pace before they’re flat out sprinting. Lots of drawing little models and graphs, throwing around ideas, and discussing.
And of course, romantic interest. I’ll leave it at this: Enemies-To-Lovers, a Zuko-style redemption arc, “Be my home to come back to, and I’ll be yours”, and all that good stuff and no I’m not not going into detail because I’m now reflecting on dynamics and the ways in which I should evolve and progress these characters and how any romance would play into this what are you talking about
Some quotes to round this out!
Thank you again so much for this ask!!! It was a lot of fun trying to think all of this stuff over and it gave me a chance to reflect on a few ideas I’ve had in my head for a while now! ✨
#writeblr#writing#writers on tumblr#writing thoughts#circa specturgia#wip.circa specturgia#writing inspiration#writing asks#writing community#wtwcommunity
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Valryn pokes Vali's face. "You look tired, go take a nap."
@goresugars
The fae stared off into space, laying his head against the comforting coldness of the wooden table. His mind throbbed with racing thoughts, manifesting as a vague, prodding headache sitting behind his tired eyes. It couldn't be any more plainly obvious that Valeriu felt exhausted, he wore not only his emotions but also his needs, upon his sleeve.
Especially when he thought no one was looking. A hand reached out of his peripheral vision, yet barely reacted as the hand extended an index finger and poked Vali on his scaley cheek. Vali slowly picked himself up (which did little to correct his slumped posture) and turned to Valryn. "Mhm....what gave you that idea?" The dokkalfar replied, snidely, with as much sarcasm he could muster, which wasn't much.
Valeriu would, for the most part, remain youthful forever -- but if three hundred and fifty-one years of exhaustion could be written in someone's eyes, or maybe in someone's eye bags, then Valeriu wore it plainly. To put it simply, he looked horrible, like death warmed over. Maybe Valryn should hold up a mirror to the fae, to scare him into getting his obviously much-needed beauty sleep. The Archmage turned back to the makeshift desk he set up in a sunroom near the top of the tower.
He picked up a cup, containing now lukewarm coffee, and drank fully, not stopping to savor the brown slurry of coffee, sugar, and cream. Even caffeine wouldn't be enough to save him from passing out soon enough, but hopefully, it would carry him long enough to finish ....what was he even working on?
Valeriu turned back to the misshapen pile of paperwork, letters, documents and manuscripts, all the words melding together like a watercolor painting upon the pale vellum they rested upon. Worlds of legal jargon, artifact manifests, expedition logs, letters from numerous Amorium noble houses he still needed to reply to, essays on magical theory and application from his older apprentices he needed to read and grade, spells and ideas for spells that were supposed to be tucked away safely in a grimoire; they were all contained within that Kronenberg-like mass of papers. Pure academic chaos.
How did he even manage to carry all this with him? (The magic of being able to manipulate liminal spaces and an extreme dedication to his work, that's how). He rubbed his eyes, squinted, and everything came back into focus, albeit momentarily.
Vali sighed, ready to admit defeat. "Fine, fine, I'll go sleep," Vali stood, shakily. His head spun, blood rushing upward, making his legs feel like jelly. He grabbed Valryn's shoulder for support, and as if his body already decided to commit to sleep immediately once his mind accepted defeat, he practically collapsed onto the mage. That's what staying up for a few days will do to you. You either sleep properly, or you experience the glory of micro-sleep and faint on someone. It was a right miracle the two of them didn't collapse to the floor -- but they got pretty close.
"Oh, fuck-- I am so sorry. I - I really do need to sleep." He chuckled faintly, pushing himself off Valryn's chest. "I don't think it is a good idea for me to be climbing downstairs at the moment." His eyes settled on one of the love-seats in the sunroom. Yeah, that looked comfortable enough. He was short enough to curl up there. Maybe hang his legs out over the edge. Vali strode over as confidently as his shaky legs would allow him to, and back-flopped onto the couch. "If you need me I'll..." A long yawn. "I'll be here." The fae laid his arm over his eyes, and within moments, he was fast asleep.
#vali voice: im not tired im....ok im tired#even when hes off adventuring around and bumming it in another mage's tower hes still carrying his paperwork with him???#WTF VALI#how is this hedonist motherfucker a workaholic -- oh yeah nevermind that makes sense#work hard party hard....sleep hard#also valryn making sure vali at least somewhat takes care of himself :) sweet#ic.#ask.#goresugars
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Storytime on how I was in my y/n era, and became a furry super villain with the Joker.
--By anonymous
So recently I just finished making my new partial fursuit it took me very long to do so, over two years to be exact. While fursuit making is a lengthy process and I'm always pretty busy with college and you know Gotham ect. It didn't't compare to the horrible task of needing to ship stuff. You know how hard it is to import stuff to Gotham?! Let me tell you how. Most people won't even touch our city with a ten foot poll, even disregarding that there was a 99.9% chance of it being stolen, or destroyed in an attack. The amount of shit I had to order repeatedly was SO STU I- I'm getting off track but I really needed to get that off my chest.
I was obviously really excited so I had the "brilliant" idea to go out fursuiting to "show off my new suit."
God I was such an idiot.
My fursona is fairly colorful with them canonically mostly wearing suits/vests. You see in Gotham if you even wear remotely colorful clothes you're going to be mistaken as a outsider or a rogue ; especially if you're wearing suits.
I'm a depressed college student that was running on 3 hours of sleep at the time, cut me some slack.
It probably didn't help that my fursona also was a skully. But my dumb ass self for whatever reason completely forgot about this. So here I was walking around with a pink vest covered in different animal skulls, a white undershirt, with lime green pants, brown dress shoes and white gloves.
I went to my favorite coffee shop because all Gothamites have a caffeine addiction we need to adhere to. Unknown to me at the time Joker was actually robbing a bank that was literally two streets over. The coffee shop workers were kinda wary of me but I didn't notice because people in Gotham acted weird all the time. So when I see the god damn JOKER about to drive down our street with tons of cash in his admittedly cool car I pull out the gun I was carrying. (It's Gotham if you're not carrying some level of self-defense you're an idiot) Apparently though everyone thought I was robbing the place and the employees started trying to in common routine give me the money in the cash register. Before I can explain that I'm not actually trying to rob them Joker sees me and I guess he thought I looked interesting. He then turns the car towards the shop and then proceeds to drive into the fucking coffee shop.
His car easily smashed through the glass windows and the wood furniture in the car's way along with two poor people who were on a coffee date.
I am just standing there staring at the Joker getting out of his car not sure what to do, scared out of my mind. So my brain filled purely with adrenaline thinks it's the best idea to try and shoot the Joker. With the gun in my hand I hastily raised the gun and tried shooting him. Keyword tried.
I would consider myself pretty decent with a gun. I have been hunting and frequently go to shooting ranges for five years. Unfortunately I got pretty lazy with keeping up my skills so I hadn't shot a gun in like 4 months. This means I was pretty out of practice. I also was you know sure I was going to die a horrible death, while in a fursuit that was obscuring my vision. That doesn't give people a stable level of mind/sight to successfully shoot something. Unless you are one of our useless cops without glasses.
So when I pulled the trigger I ended up missing the Joker and hitting a cop that was previously across the street coming up behind him and trying to shoot Joker himself . I only hit him in the shoulder and didn't kill him thankfully. Joker complimented my "sharp shooting" thinking I was trying to save him and with him liking my ✨ aesthetic ✨ he invited me to join him.
Me pretty deep in shock just agreed as I didn't want to be killed. After getting into the car with him he started to drive to his safe house I think. Before we could reach it though the other cops finally showed up, I was now in a high speed police care chase with the Joker. He handed me this bazooka looking thing and said to shoot the cops. Idfk what I was doing at this point and I was scared I was going to go to Arkham so I thought what the hell. I tried shooting the thing at the cop at the very front of the chase and you know what? I missed, again and the thing hit this truck holding some type of gas and exploded; killing all the cops in one go.
(My therapist is going to need a therapist)
Joker complimented my shooting again saying something like I was "putting the angsty bat kid to shame." I don't know what the hell he was talking about cause I was processing that I just became a mass murderer.
When we finally reached his safe house I was met with the Riddler, Penguin, and Scarecrow. They were all sitting at this large table that was covered in paper and various weapons.
Riddler was in the far left bent over a paper writing down something. Mumbling about different riddles he had to try out on the Batman.
Penguin who was on the right side of the Riddler seemed annoyed at his ramblings. He didn't look like he had any plans in front of him on the messy table.
Scarecrow was-
I honestly didn't give a fuck cause you know I was still thinking about how I'm a mass murderer now. Joker started talking about how I saved his bacon and wanted to introduce me. When he realized he didn't actually know my name he just looked at me expectantly. With all the rogues' eyes on my now I was feeling pretty pressured. (Social anxiety is a bitch) I said the first thing that came to mind at that moment. So with all the courage I could muster I proclaimed in the most crazed sounding voice I could do that my name is-
"The Skull Collecter."
Like what kinda drugs was I on?! What edge lord's type shit name is "Skull Collector." Though I guess it's slightly accurate since I do collect different animal skulls. Satisfied with my shitty name they asked what my deal was with the Joker and what I wanted with them. So too deep into this shitty situation I started to weave a tale about my backstory.
I said that I was once a regular average Joe with an interest in collecting skeletons. I became more obsessed overtime with my hobby until I eventually I "realized" how better animal and human skulls were when harvested by my own means. (Once again it was half true since I do like collecting then cleaning the skeletons myself.) So I started killing people in secret and taking their heads. Scarecrow told me he actually heard of me awhile back. I don't know if a god took pity on me for the sheer lunacy of my situation but apparently there was conveniently a maniac going around killing and stealing people's heads. Later through my own research I learned that the same guy died accidentally when trying to escape the police in Washington. Fell off a building apparently and died before the ambulance could reach the hospital.
I really really didn't want to get absolutely bodied by Batman and sent to Arkham if he followed the Joker's and my trail. So I made up some excuse about how I needed to go do something important at my "lair" and I had to go. Thankfully after a little more convincing I was free to leave. After I was a decent distance away I immediately took off my fursuit head; I then proceeded to have a complete utter mental breakdown.
Well that's chapter one! I want to do this fic in third person in the future if I complete it.
#gotham#only in gotham#batman#joker#only in gotham rp#rp#roleplay#furries#furry#fursuit#this is really trash writing but I just need to finish it
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I am a casualty
of my own creativity
imagining
horrible things
brewing anxiety,
and some OCD.
So, nervously
I scratch at a back scab
and drink some caffeine,
my way coping,
when I stop laughing
and joking,
when I’m all the way open
just be reminded
that my trauma
is a burden
when spoken
and those who heard
each terrible word
will be broken
or at least as
traumatized as me.
So, I should stop.
No one needs to see
or feel the sting
of my messed-up reality.
My secret isn’t
deep dark visions
of a troubled past.
The truth has become
my cold clay mask trap
that makes me feel better when,
I’m angry or numb.
-2023
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