dumps everywhere

me: I’m not going to write bedsharing fic, I’ve done it once and so far everyone else’s has been utterly beautiful so I don’t want to mess it up

also me:

(for @rebelcaptainprompts Prompt #4: One Bed. Not really a fic but my brain went wild reading all the lovely fics for this prompt so…. here you go. Word Count: 383)

Jyn learns a lot about Cassian, in their bed. 

She can list them off, one by one. 

His hands are perpetually freezing. They’re always intertwined with hers when they’re not pressed against her for warmth. He has the callused hands of a sniper, and she knows the lines of his palm by heart.

He hates the cold. Ironic, yes, but the way he amasses a mountain of blankets is endearing. Many a day Jyn has mistaken Cassian for a pile of blankets, only given away by his hair sticking up from under the hem.

He can fall asleep anywhere, and sleeps lightly. Just like her. But he prefers to lie on his back, allowing her to curl up and press her face to his chest. He sleeps deeply on nights like these.

He pulls her in closer while he’s sleeping. He has no recollection of doing so, but Jyn knows. She doesn’t mind. 

Some nights, he doesn’t sleep. Jyn falls asleep to the sensation of Cassian toying with her hair, and wakes up finding herself held tightly to his chest, his face buried in her neck, the distinct air of someone who had been kept awake clinging like dampness to her skin. But those nights become rare. If they stay up, they stay up together. 

She learns a lot about herself, too.

She likes to burrow into things, for warmth, she assumes. Snug against his side, face against his chest, taking up his pillow space.

She takes up a lot of space. She’s used to sleeping in cramped quarters, but once she tasted the luxury of sprawling across a bed, she never willingly went back. Cassian often woke up to find a leg sprawled across him or a hand in his face. 

She hates it when she wakes up to find Cassian had rolled away from her. But that doesn’t happen very often.

She’s memorized the intricacies of his body, knows where every unhealed blaster wound has left its mark, where a lifetime of servitude to a greater cause has broken him. He knows hers. 

The sound of his breathing lulls her to sleep. When her mind is wandering, mulling over the day’s events, or reliving long-dead terrors, the rhythm of his heartbeat against hers quiets her mind.

And so, she falls asleep.

GSC, Basically

So this story begins when we meet Trainer “my bangs are as long as my dick” Gold and he is just a really pervy ten year old ok? But whatever, what’s important is that this ginger bitch steals something and nearly breaks some random guy’s spine. Gold, naturally, only cares about the fact that he MAY have stolen his backpack so he vows to pound this ambiguously gendered emo’s face into pudding. Literally nothing else happens between them except Gold being a petty ass bitch. Anyway then we get Señorita Thunder Thighs, who proceeds to attempt to kick everything causing her problems. She’s a badass and a Mom so she’s got no bad qualities but she’s apparently not too strong bc…. plot and shit. She gets depressed and we get our first taste of abusive parenting. Spicy. Anyway, there’s this masked dude who is so obviously this OTHER creepy old dude, but seeing as Johto’s combined intelligence is comparable to that of an overripe banana, no one figures it out. Gym leaders fight, Yellow is there I think, and Pryce reveals he’s a massive dickwad. Shitty motive….. still child abuse. The other appear, side characters get a moment to shine, teashipping proves to be the only pure and good ship in the entire franchise, and Gold dies. Blue conquers her fear by capturing literal gods and Green tries to arrest a literal child, but who cares about that Gold actually isn’t dead and he’s a Daddy now.

bexloko  asked:

heyo! white rose, #9 for the "i love you" prompt thingy? :D

Yeah sure!

The first thing Ruby heard as she entered the front door of her house was a loud thud, followed by a stream of profanity. “Weiss?” Ruby called down the hall as she followed the sound of loud, high curses to the kitchen. “Are you okay?”

She turned the corner into the kitchen at the end of the passage. She stood for a moment in shock as she saw the state the room was in. And then she began to laugh.

All of the cupboards were opened, various ingredients and kitchen supplies in disarray across the counters. It was chaos, plain and simple. And Weiss stood in the middle of it all, covered head to toe in flour.

She crossed her arms, glaring daggers at Ruby. “Stop it! Stop laughing at me!”

Ruby tried her best but giggles kept forcing their way out of her every time she saw Weiss’ even paler than usual face, trying to look stern even under the layers of white, fluffy powder. “S-sorry, Weiss. I’m sorry.” She took a shaky breath, swallowing a chuckle. “I just–how? What? What were you doing?”

Weiss brushed at her shirt, sending little white clouds drifting up around her, but accomplishing nothing in terms of cleaning herself off. “I was trying to bake cookies! But this kitchen is an unorganized mess! I couldn’t find anything and when I tried to take the flour off the top shelf the bag ripped and it all fell out onto me!” She shook her head for emphasis, and flour flew out around her head like a halo of dust.

Ruby bit down on her lip to keep from smiling. “You were… baking?”

Weiss scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Yes. Is there a problem with that?”

She’s embarrassed, Ruby realized with a pang. “No! No, no, no. I’m sorry, I wasn’t making fun of you. Just… surprised, is all.”

Weiss stared at the floor, chewing at her lip. “I wanted to surprise you with something nice. Something not store-bought. You always made it look so easy, so I thought I’d find a recipe and… I don’t know. I’m terrible at this kind of thing.”

Ruby pulled Weiss to her, kissing her gently. It was dry, and dusty and flour-filled, but still good. Of course it was, it was Weiss. “Thank you.” She said, planting another quick kiss on the tip of Weiss’ nose. “That was very sweet of you.”

“But I dumped flour everywhere and I made a mess of our kitchen.” Weiss’ shoulders slumped.

Ruby laughed and shook her head. “That’s nothing. The first time Yang and I tried to bake something, she set the curtains on fire and I managed to get cake batter on the ceiling, the floor, and all four walls.” She smiled at the memory, remembering how Summer had helped them to clean up, and then made them promise to ask for help next time.

The thought gave her an idea. “First, help me clean up,” she said, glancing around the room. “And let me find my mom’s recipe.”

Weiss blinked, brow furrowing. “What?”

“Well we can’t do anything in this mess, and there’s no way some quack on the internet can be better than the Rose family at making cookies. The secret method has been passed down in our family for generations!”

“But this was supposed to be for you! You shouldn’t have to put in all this work. I’ll just clean up and then we can–”

Ruby raised a finger to Weiss’ lips, shushing her. “I won’t be on my own! I’ll have my apprentice to help me.” She grinned and winked, and Weiss’ eyes widened as she finally caught on.

“You’re going to teach me to bake?”

Ruby nodded, unable to contain her grin. “C’mon, it’ll be fun. It’s not every day I find something I can do better than you.”

“That’s not true!” Weiss protested, “You’re good at plenty of things. Being wonderful, for one.”

Ruby giggled and flung her arms around Weiss’ neck, leaning her head forward so that their foreheads touched. “You’re pretty wonderful yourself, Weiss.”

“Thank you, Ruby.” Weiss let out another sigh. “I’m sorry I made a mess of things.”

Ruby just shrugged and smiled. “But then we wouldn’t be able to have fun cleaning it up! Besides, the best part of baking is sharing it. That’s what my mom always used to say.” She felt that familiar ache in her chest that always came with talking about Summer, but Weiss held her tight and that eased the pain a little.

Weiss made a final attempt to brush the still-clinging flour off of herself, then gave up  with an irritated huff. “I’m going to go change.”

“Good idea. You look like a snowman,” Ruby remarked with a snort.

Weiss glared and turned away, flicking her hair as she did so that a cloud of flour flew into Ruby’s face, making her sneeze. “Hey! You did that on purpose.”

Weiss glanced over her shoulder, batting her eyes innocently. “I have no idea what you mean.”

Ruby sneezed again. “You know exactly what I mean, Ice Queen.” But Weiss had already flounced out of the kitchen towards the bedroom. “You are the worst!”

“Love you Ruby!” Weiss’ voice was light and teasing.

Ruby shook her head in exasperation, but even so a smile bloomed on her face. “I love you too.”


I have been putting this off for months. My office became a dumping ground for old projects and the rubbish bin was full so i dumped stuff everywhere.

I struggle with having low energy levels after work due to depression and lethargy so the last thing I want to do is clean. I put some time aside this weekend to jump in and clean it. Very happy with the result. You can see the rubbish that I purged during the clean. 🤣


If you ever wanted to know what a stone mite or a duracrete slug looks like, WELL, YOU’RE WELCOME.

It’s not just criminals that makes the Underworld a dangerous place to live–there’s never much of any sunlight, there are piles of waste dumped everywhere, some buildings are maintained, but others are left to rot, the crime is bad enough that they have to rely in vigilante justice, and some of the creatures you’ll find down there are.  Well.

”Being awakened by a conduit worm’s feeler threads trickling into one’s ear is enough to make almost anyone wish to move off-world.”  NO KIDDING.


This is in a series of Coruscant reference posts:
how the Underworld works, maybe???
- a more general Coruscant post
- waste disposal on Coruscant
- the wildlife of Coruscant
- focus on the dianoga on Coruscant

Short - Distractions Part II

The lights drained around them…flickering energy outside shooting across the walls like a specter that sought to infiltrate the Gibraltar compound. Shadows danced along the metal panels and finally died off into the darkness of the hallways.

Gasping was muffled from the overlook upstairs as Genji returned his lips to Angela’s each time she took a breath. Her arms wrapped loosely around his neck, keeping him close to her own pleading lips. He rested between her legs and peered down at her when he finally pulled away from a battle of air and flesh.

Both of them remained clothed, but neither wanted to leave after getting caught up in the moment. None of the others had even attempted to usher them to bed, and for that, they were grateful. Long gone were the interruptions of youth, and their blossoming romance was left in more adult situations.

Genji smirked from beneath a lifted visor and something akin to mischief played in his eyes. Angela could do no more than stare up at him with a bemused and yet bashful expression. Despite both of them being In their thirties, she felt youthful and playful again. Butterflies always fluttered about in her stomach when she caught him looking her way…or even when Genji’s name was simply muttered in passing. It rough forth old memories of grade school when crushes long past were called upon during role call.

The cyborg’s fingers rose and brushed against her collarbone until they wrapped around her chin in a delicate embrace. He liked to coax her eyes to fix on his own, she noted, and it always caused her cheeks to flush a brilliant peach. Somehow, he managed to keep his weight off of her as moved his attention from her face only long enough to pluck the blanket that had been folded on the back of the couch. The draft from the storms swirling outside still managed to permeate the building and the metallic walls did little to resist it. Angela had shivered once beneath Genji and that was the only cue he needed.

While holding her close, he moved expertly so that she somehow ended up in front of him, spooned against his chest and beneath the knitted wool of the blanket. His breath fell in short, but calm, bursts of heat against the back of her neck and an entirely new sort of shiver reverberated through her being.

“Angela…are you still cold? Is it…”

She shook her head before he could finish and she looked over her shoulder as much as she could laying like she was, “No, don’t worry. You aren’t cold tonight”. He always had a penchant for concerning himself with his prosthetics and their temperature around her. While it certainly took a great deal to heat himself to a comfortable level, he didn’t want to freeze her to death. At her clarification, his arms snaked around her waist and clasped to hold her close.

Neither of them paid any mind to the rest of their environment, mostly thanks to the amount of security that Athena offered. A very careful clicking of booted feet was lost on them as they whispered to one another. Downstairs, just below the grated walkway above, a particular figure leaned against the wall smoking a cigarette. His disheveled mess of hair did much to cloak his face as did a rather full beard of reddened brunette hair.

Jesse flicked his ashes to one side and breathed carefully so that the smoke wouldn’t rise to greet the two upstairs. He’d come back towards the kitchen for a drink when he’d caught a hushed noise from the two. Never one to turn down the opportunity to snoop on someone, he’d taken to the shadows and listened from his post. As he drained a small glass of diluted whiskey, minus the ice, he nearly spit it out when he heard the couch begin a series of squeaks. There hadn’t been any frantic sounds of clothing being removed and he exhaled slowly and quietly. Something about the thought of them being so public made him a bit frustrated. Perhaps even a bit jealous.

After placing his glass back in the kitchen, he rose up the stairs with calculated steps until his eyes fixed on the couch and the figures that now formed one big mass upon its cushions. Just as he heard a very quiet muttering of “I just need to pull these down a little further and then I can….”, Jesse cleared his throat.

“Ya know, if I didn’t know better, I’d say some shenanigans were afoot here. We got a sleepover and no chaperone…”

Both Angela and Genji shot up, Genji’s hand still down the front of her shirt like a raccoon with its hand caught in the trash, their eyes just as wide. Jesse’s lips curved up into a crooked smile that could only be seen thanks to his cigarette.

“McCree… no one asked you for the commentary”, Genji’s tone had swiftly gone from loving to irritation incarnate. Everything had now turned into confrontation and his stance spoke highly of it, “Now please, scurry off to bed…”.

Jesse seemed undeterred by Genji’s bipolar reaction and gave them both a rather large heave of his shoulders. He flashed his teeth and gave Angela a brief nod of his head. Instinctively, a hand came up to tip a hat that was elsewhere, “Beg yer pardon the , I’ll leave ya to yer hanky panky… just make sure to wipe the couch down when yer done. I like to sit up here with coffee in the morning.”

As he started towards the hallway that housed his room, a couch pillow ricocheted off the side of his head. Instead of reacting wth rage, a deep, amused laugh echoed the halls until he disappeared around a corner.

Angela sat fully upright while an agitated Genji rubbed at her tense shoulders. The green glow from his visor gave them something of a temporary night light as the vibrancy reacted to his heart rate, “That man can certainly be an asshole…”.

Genji nodded in agreement and his eyes still rested on the hallway Jesse had disappeared into, “How much do you suppose he heard?”.

The doctor gave him a shrug of her own but smiled sheepishly, “I suppose the better question is, do either of us care?”.

@revolutionaryduelist honestly if we put jake aside for a second and just talk about dirk, separately from being someone who fell in love with one of his best friends, dirk’s story is still an incredible narrative about what it’s like to be queer in a group of (perceived) straight people.* 

  • he’s emotionally isolated. jane doesn’t know he’s queer because he’s never brought it up to her. he can’t talk to roxy because she’s in love with him. he tried to talk to jake and jake shut him down. i can’t tell you the number of times where i wanted to talk about queerness and didn’t because i knew the people around me weren’t receptive. the number of times where i wanted to talk about queerness in a group of straight people and they didn’t want to hear it. the times that i spoke anyway and felt the group become uncomfortable and want me to stop talking. 
    • this is reflected in dirk’s physical isolation as well. he’s the loneliest person in the world. at least roxy had the carapacians, as shitty consolation as that may be. dirk has only ever had himself. 
  • speaking of dirk only ever having himself — dirk can only rely on himself as a product of his physical isolation. i’ve often felt the exact same way — because i’m trans. that being different from everyone around me meant i could trust no one. that people would (and they do) always let me down or not be there in a way that i needed. you know what? this feeling that i’m the only one around to look out for myself has made me a) distant and guarded with people and b) feel desperate to be in control of my environment and of myself. i’m speaking from personal experience, obviously, but i’m by far not the only one. 
  • “different from everyone else” now where have i heard dirk say that. oh, right. dirk thinks he’s toxic to the people around him. he thinks that his friends don’t understand his core issues (do straight and cis people ever truly understand? we can explain and they can be kind, they can sympathize, but i know i’ve never really made a cis person understand what it feels like to be me). dirk thinks he’s the poison element in his friendships. anyone remember being a teenager in a room full of people who were in some way vulnerable (discussing romance, changing clothes, etc.) and wondering if they would have let you be in the room if they knew what you’re really like? if they knew the truth about you, would they still like you? would they still trust you? would they be disgusted? would you lose everyone you ever loved if people knew what you truly are? 

there’s probably more detail but these are the things that stick out the most strongly to me. sorry to get so personal with you guys, it’s just that dirk is very important to me, as someone who is, at times, a queer boy. 

*note: obviously jake is not straight, but he pretends he is for some time. post-canon suggests jane is also queer. and, of course, roxy and calliope’s (and roxy and jane’s) story has always been very romantic. dirk is not actually in a group of straight people, but there was VERY likely a time when he thought he was. 

Peter Parker? Gross!

Sure, Peter Parker is the cutest boy ever, but he has his moments. Who doesn’t? This is a list of all the gross things your boyfriend, Peter Parker, does. -A friendly reminder that not everybody is perfect, and that we all do the same disgusting things-

  • He’s a teenage boy! What do you expect?
  • “Babe, let’s go hang out in my room!”
  • Before you even step foot into his bedroom, you can smell something funky.
  • You open the door and it’s a total dump: clothes scattered everywhere, plates with rotting food on the ground and on his desk, his garbage can overflowing
  • “There is NO way I am going in there,” you say while plugging your nose
  • “But how are we gonna kiss without May catching us?”
  • Cue sad Peter trying to convince you with his endearing puppy eyes and frown
  • “Clean it and I’m all yours!”
  • Did you just see a rat scurry across his bedroom floor?

Keep reading

Losing Sleep (Liam x MC)

Book: The Royal Romance

Pairing: Liam x MC (Allie)

Rating: I’m so bad at these. PGish…nothing naughty or explicit here.

Word Count: 1303

Summary: MC has difficulty sleeping her first night back in Cordonia. This is fluff of the super sappy variety, as I wait for the emotional disaster awaiting us in Book 2. Thank you to @misha726author for the Liam x her MC, Eleanor, ask (HERE) for putting the idea of Liam’s inability to cook in my head. :)

Tagging @liamfanfiction. :)

Sleep eludes her on her first night back at the palace. Despite the jet lag and fatigue after being mobbed by the press after arriving back in Cordonia, Allie can’t fall asleep. She’s tense and on edge, half expects security guards to storm into the room, rip her away from Liam, and remove her from the palace again, even though her name has been cleared.

Allie feels bad for Liam, knows he’s just as exhausted as she is, if not more so. Every time she sighs and fidgets and tries to get comfortable, he stirs, tightening his arms around her and asking in a whisper what’s wrong. She reassures him, tells him she just can’t sleep, eventually slipping out of bed just before midnight and reclining on the chaise lounge near the window so that he can get some rest.

It’s a clear night, the stars shimmering overhead, a gentle breeze fluttering the drapes. Despite the bad memories, Allie is glad to be back, has waited and wanted for months to be back here with Liam.

“What’s wrong, Allie?” Liam’s sleepy voice stirs her out of her thoughts, his hand squeezing her shoulder before he nudges her over and joins her on the lounge.

She turns, sliding her legs over his and nuzzling against his neck. Liam runs his hand up and down her thigh, tilting her chin up to kiss her.

“It’s…stupid,” she murmurs, smiling as he presses soft kisses to her mouth again and again, his lips gentle against hers.

“It’s kept you up all night. It’s not stupid,” Liam says.

“I just keep thinking this can’t be real,” she explains, leaning into him. “I spent months wanting to wake up next to you, dreaming about you, and then waking up alone…and I don’t want to wake up alone tomorrow.”

“Allie,” Liam murmurs. His eyes are wet when she looks up at him. “You won’t wake up alone.”

He smiles as he tucks her in closer. “And I wish I could promise that you’ll never wake up alone again. But I know eventually I’ll be away for one function or meeting or another, and you won’t always be able to come with. But as much as I can, I’ll always be there when you wake up.”

His hands are soothing as they slide over her back, lulling her eyes closed. She doesn’t know if she’ll be able to sleep, but she feels better, accepting Liam’s hand when he stands a few minutes later.

They curl up in bed, his heartbeat a steady thump under her ear, their fingers laced together. Liam drops off to sleep almost immediately, his breaths deep and slow, his grip on her hand loosening as he drifts off.

When she wakes, it’s nearly three in the morning. She’s surprised she was able to sleep at all. Liam has rolled on to his side facing her, his arm slung around her waist loosely. Allie watches him for a few minutes, his face relaxed. She doesn’t want to wake him, but she can’t keep herself from touching him, reassuring herself that he’s real, that she isn’t still sleeping and this all just some dream she’ll wake up from.

She traces her fingertips lightly over his bare chest, across the lines of his collarbones and up to his jawline. He shifts in his sleep and she stills her fingers, smiling at the slight crease that forms between his eyebrows. Smoothing it out, she lets her hand wander down his cheek and trace over his lips.

“Mmm,” Liam mumbles in his sleep, kissing her fingers. His arm tightens around her waist as he pulls her in to him, his eyes still closed as he brushes his lips over hers, soft and slow.

His eyes open slowly, and he blinks at her sleepily. “Did you get any sleep?” he asks in quiet murmur.

“A little. I’m sorry I keep waking you up,” she apologizes.

“Don’t apologize,” he says, brushing his lips over her neck. “I had a hard time sleeping the whole time you were gone. I’d wake up, convinced you were just down the hall or had woken up before me, and then it would all come rushing back.”

Liam tangles his hand in her dark hair, pressing his lips to hers. “Have I told you lately how happy I am that you’re finally here?”

She smiles, sliding her leg in between his and nuzzling into his chest. “You might’ve mentioned it a few times.”

“Only a few? That’s not nearly enough,” he says in mock indignation.

“You’ll just have to owe me,” she says teasingly.

“Good thing we have the rest of our lives for me to do it,” he whispers in her ear.

“I like the sound of that,” she whispers back.

Liam presses gently against her hip so she turns and repositions them so her back is against his chest. He brushes her hair off to the side and presses his lips to her shoulder, sliding his hand down her arm and tangling their fingers together.

“I love you,” he murmurs in her ear.

“Mmm. I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of hearing that,” she smiles, bringing their joined hands to her lips and pressing them to the back of Liam’s hand. “I love you, too.”

Her eyes drift closed, and when she opens them again, it’s mid-morning, the sun warm against her face. Before she even has time to register that Liam isn’t in bed next to her, the door quietly opens and he sits down behind her, setting something down on the nightstand.

“Good morning,” he greets her, smiling as she rolls over and leaning down to kiss her.

“Good morning,” she says, sitting upright and eyeing the mug of steaming coffee on the nightstand.

“For me?” she asks hopefully, remembering how dark and rich the coffee had been the last time she was here.

“Of course,” Liam laughs, handing her the mug.

“I promise I was going to wait for you to wake up,” he says. “But I really wanted to surprise you with breakfast in bed.”

“You cook?” Allie asks in surprise.

Liam looks sheepish. “Well, no. I tried.” His cheeks turn pink.

“What happened?” she asks, an amused look crossing her face.

“I may have nearly started a fire.”

She starts laughing. “You started a fire?”

“No! I nearly started a fire. One of the chefs stopped it and told me not to touch an oven again.”

“Oh my god.” She sets her mug down before she dumps coffee everywhere, laughing so hard that she can barely get the words out.

“And the coffee?” she manages to ask.

“I helped make the coffee,” he protests, trying but failing not to laugh, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

“Helped how?”

“I measured the grounds out and put them in,” Liam says, then mumbles, “…after I put them where the water goes the first time.”

Allie is now laughing so hard that tears are streaming down her face. “Oh, Liam. You are, without a doubt, the sweetest man I have ever met.”

She smiles, sliding onto his lap and kissing him. “I love you.”

“Even though I can’t cook?” he asks, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

“Well…you’re a king, with a kitchen full of professional chefs, so I don’t think we’ll have to rely on your cooking any time soon,” she says, nudging him playfully.

“Excellent point. In any case…I’m sure I can convince one of the chefs to teach me to make something for you,” Liam replies, smiling as she leans in to kiss him again.

“Tell you what,” she says, “If the chefs allow you in the kitchen ever again, I can teach you to cook.”

“I’m fairly certain I’ve been banned for life. But let’s see if we can persuade them.”

K so I was going to save this for angst wars but yknow what let’s dump this everywhere right now

so we’re all assuming Grif’s coming back. From a Watsonian narrative standpoint it makes sense to have him come back, from a Doylist standpoint he’s an iconic character and I don’t think they could really get rid of him.

But what if he just


What if the troopers get into trouble, and get out of it again, and go through another Big Damn Adventure and make it all the way through and it turns out they don’t need Grif. They’re fine without him. They work

and then they eventually come back with the day saved to an empty moon.

Kai’s the one who sends them a message to let them know he went back to earth. Sarge grumbles about “good riddance” and polishes his shotgun a lot and no one can find Simmons for a few days

Donut eventually goes to visit

and he has to go alone.

He gets there and he knocks on the door and Grif answers it and just says “oh. it’s you.”

not angry

not upset

not excited

completely neutral.


“do you need something?”

“I just wanted to come say hi!”

“well. Hi.”

and they stand there awkwardly for a minute or so

until grif just shuts the door and donut leaves

and grif is never spoken of again

that’s it.

Vutha goes down to the galley, where he finds an unwashed, overweight man passed out drunk on a table. There are chickens running everywhere.
  • Vutha: *dumps a bucket of dirty water onto Fishguts, NPC cook, to wake him up*
  • Fishguts: *sputters, looks up, sees Vutha, jumps back* Who're you? *holds up cleaver defensively*
  • Vutha: *speaking in a deep, slow voice* Vutha.
  • Fishguts: Vutha? Is that your name, or is that some ungodly lizard-thing?
  • Vutha, pressing one massive hand to chest: Vutha.
  • Fishguts: You... speak Common?
  • Vutha: *long pause* Yes.
  • Fishguts: Okay. W-why are you here? It's not time for supper. *peeks out window to check* Nah, nah, it's not time for supper.
  • Vutha: ... Food.
  • Fishguts: It's not time for supper.
  • Mark: Eat him.
  • Evan: I'd get killed so fast!
  • Mark: I got your back.
  • Evan: No.
  • Vutha: Cook.
  • Fishguts: I'm the cook. Uh... are you the cook's mate? Did Mr Plug (first mate)assign you down here?
  • Vutha: *impassive stare* *impassive tongue-flick* *nod*
  • Fishguts: O-okay... My name is Ambrose Kroop.
  • Vutha: *more impassive staring*
  • Fishguts: Y-you know how to cook?
  • Vutha: No.
  • Fishguts: Well, you can't be worse than Magpie.
  • Evan: I will grab a chicken for him, with a Nat 20. I'll lift it up and snap its neck.
  • Fishguts, dismayed: Cockerel!
  • Vutha: *holds out chicken*
  • Fishguts: *begins to weep*

Originally posted by stupidteletubbie

Niall Blurb request - The Rainy Day

I walked towards the family room, the basket I was carrying loaded to the brim with clean laundry and dangerously close to spilling everywhere. I dumped the basket on the couch and turned to look at the television. A documentary on tigers, of course. Niall was sprawled out on the other side of the sectional, Isabella curled up next to him. “Ni……” I watched him as he absentmindedly ran his fingers through Isabella’s curls, his eyes trained on the television.  “Ni……” still nothing. “NIALL!”

“Jesus, Syd!” he jumped as he turned towards me. “No need for yellin’. What’s up?”

“Maybe if you had heard me the first two times I called you, there would be no yelling.” I grinned.

“Sorry, didn’t hear ya, love. This show is amazin’. Did you know that tiger urine smells strongly of buttered popcorn?” His bright blue eyes lit up as he spoke.

I burst out laughing. “No, Niall. I didn’t know that.” I leaned over and kissed him lightly on the lips. “But now I do.”

Keep reading


Completely plotless thing with Avory Shepard and James Vega during her incarceration. 

“Fucking shit, Vega, not in my fucking bed!”

James cocked his head, a deer in the headlights of a very large, very dangerous Mack truck bearing down on him with incredible speed. Too many tequila shots dulled his reaction time and the semi crashed into him with full force, though off kilter, and knocked him over onto his side. His bag of chips flew from his hands, the contents of which spilled over the bed, the crumpled foil landed on the floor.

“What the hell, Shepard?” His tongue felt thick and his words were slurred.

Dios. Going shot for shot with Commander Shepard was a dumb idea. If the world wasn’t spinning beneath him, he would have taken a moment to regret his decision. But as it was, he was too fucking disoriented from Shepard’s tackle to worry about what Anderson – hell, what Anderson and Hackett would do to him if they walked in at that moment. Off duty or not, his superior officers would not be happy.

He was playing a dangerous game, but Shepard was damn persuasive, and James would be lying if he said he didn’t want to spend more time with her off the clock. Over the past four months, she had shattered every preconceived notion he had about her, and now, sprawled beside him, body twisted and golden mane cast in a halo around her head, it was almost hard to remember she was the Commander Shepard.

He pushed himself up into an unsteady seated position, leaned back against the headboard.

Shepard’s eyes were closed and her smile wide, her chest still shaking with laughter. “Your fucking face, Vega.”

James looked down his cheeks at Shepard, who he couldn’t be sure was drunk or just in a particularly Shepard mood. “You spilled the chips.”

Shepard panted, tried to quell her laughter. “I told you not to eat in my bed.”

“You did it.” James slurred a defense.

Two more deep breaths and Shepard finally opened her eyes, and he watched through blurred vision as she struggled to find him. She squinted up at him for a moment as he swayed, then one lazy, limp wristed arm rose into the air, like a drunken cobra rising from a basket. He felt himself go cross-eyed as she flicked her wrist, pointed a finger at his face, and he flinched when she poked him a little too hard on the bridge of his nose.

“I used to have a scar like this.” She dragged her finger across his cheek, following the scar there.

James tried to ignore the warmth of her touch, clumsy as it was, as she traced the mark clear to the end. He focused on the burning heat in his belly; the pleasant acidic feel of tequila on an empty stomach went perfectly with the smell of lime and salt lingering on her finger. It was almost enough of a distraction to stop the chill from running down his spine as she flicked her finger off his cheekbone. Almost.

“Used to?” James swatted at her hand and she laughed, let her arm flop back down over her chest.

“Yeah,” she rolled onto her side, propped her head up on her hand, “Cerberus replaced it with all these fucky red monstrous ones when they brought me back from the dead.”

Even through the daze he was caught in, he could hear the lack of humor in her tone. And even though she had been having a hard time locking her eyes on any one thing for a while, she wasn’t even trying now, her gaze off somewhere far away.

He knew she used to have a scar very similar to his, could remember how he and his fellow marines who followed her career had speculated how she got it, what she had done to the person who gave it to her. It was her signature mark. The first time he had seen her without it, the first news story when she had resurfaced with Cerberus, had been like seeing his own disappear.

“Prob'ly for the best, Shepard.” James’ head rolled to the side. He tried to raise a brow, but his face felt like molten lava, incapable of much more than a lazy grin. “Looks better on me. I wouldn’t want to show you up.”

She snorted, rolled onto her back and flung her arm over to smack him on the thigh. “In your dreams, Vega. I rocked the shit out of that scar and you know it.”

“Yeah,” he sighed, his eyes blatantly drifting over Shepard’s sprawled out form, “you rock a lot of things, Lola.”

Glossy blue eyes came back to the moment, snapped up to meet his and she flung her arm at him again, this time smacking him square in the chest. “Oh, fuck off, Vega.” Her hand fell, her arm draped palm up over his thighs. “You lost your chance with me when you spilled chips on my bed. Fucking crumbs everywhere.”

James chuckled and leaned over the side of the bed to retrieve the bag of chips. He dug out a handful, piled them onto Shepard’s open palm. “Eat, Shepard. You’re getting grumpy.”

She scoffed. “Maybe because someone dumped chips everywhere.”

“Yeah, yeah.” James pulled out another handful, stuffed some chips into his own mouth. “I still haven’t heard a thank you for risking my ass to drink with you in the first place.”

She grumbled something under her breath, the sound drowned out by her crunching on a chip. He looked down at her, her eyes closed and her mouth chewing lazily like a cow on cud. The Commander Shepard looking more and more human every day.

“You’re washing my sheets tomorrow.” She swallowed and her eyes opened. James felt his cheeks flush, caught red handed watching her, but she was oblivious. “And thank you.”

James felt his mouth quirk uncontrollably into a lopsided grin. Yeah, definitely more human, and it only took four months and an entire bottle of tequila.