last few coming up hi

My first stab at appendicitis (wow, I didn’t intend for that to be a shitty pun), so hang with me! (I may have gotten really excited when writing this.) 

When Keith woke to a dull throb in the middle of his abdomen a few days earlier, he pegged it on lack of sleep mixed with poor appetite and went to class.

However, three days later, and instead of getting better like he had hoped, he was getting worse. The dull throb had spread from the middle of his stomach to the lower-right side, and it didn’t take a genius to know that that was where the appendix was located.

But, appendicitis was rare. At least, that’s what Keith told himself when he struggled out of bed to get ready for class. He was most likely dealing with some shit strain of the flu, but he couldn’t miss class, not with midterms approaching.

He tossed a hoodie and a pair of sweats on and crammed his feet into the closest pair of boots before shouldering his backpack.

“No breakfast?” Lance questioned with a frown as Keith moved toward the door.

“Not hungry,” Keith called over his shoulder as he turned the doorknob.

“I’m pretty sure I haven’t seen you eat in like three days,” Lance pressed, abandoning his bowl of cereal in favor of catching his boyfriend before he could bolt out the door.

He hooked a finger around Keith’s backpack strap and tugged hard until the latter was stumbling around to face him.

Lance moved his eyes slowly across Keith’s face. The latter was paler than usual and slightly flushed, but before he could press further with questions, Keith stepped forward and planted a firm kiss to his lips.

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anonymous asked:

Conner during winter: *uses his ttk to do basically everything, wrapped in a million blankets*

Tim sighed, moving to sit next to the lump on the couch that was more blanket than man. Though man wasn’t exactly what he wanted to call Kon, considering the childish way he was hiding himself away. 

He wished he knew how long his boyfriend had been at this, but he’d been gone for days working on a mission. Tim hated that it was entirely possible that Kon had been like this the entire time, without Tim even having the faintest idea. …Though he wasn’t exactly sure if he was angry with Kon or not, yet.

“Babe,” he started, carefully, trying to have patience with his boyfriend. “You know you have to come out sometime.”

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Gif is mine

Drunk Gibbs? Yes, please!!! Omg, I think he’d have completely unfiltered responses. You should write a flirty-drunk Gibbs 

Requested by profiler-in-training~

You heard a crash in the basement, and that’s what prompted you to leave the comfort of Jethro’s couch and investigate. As you descended the wooden stairs, you heard Jethro cursing.

“Jethro, are you okay?” You asked upon seeing him. The Marine was leaning against the counter, sawdust flecking his red Marine Corp sweatshirt. To your dismay, he has holding his hand, blood dripping from his palm. “What the hell happened?” You continued, running down the last few steps and coming up to his side.

Now that you were closer, you could see just how languid his movements were. The strong smell of bourbon made your nose wrinkle. “Dropped the glass.” He explained. “Tried to pick up the pieces. Didn’t work.” Jethro ended the sentence with a smile, his eyes very blatantly looking up and down your body. His voice was so uncharacteristically slurry that it made you smile.

“Well, we gotta fix you up. Follow me-”

“You gotta pretty smile.” Jethro complimented. “I’d like to make you smile more.”

His compliments inadvertently made you smile even wider. “Jethro, we have to clean your cut.” You gently grabbed his wrist, conscious of the blood.

As you tried to lead him to the stairs, Jethro was being difficult; trying but failing to pull out of your grasp. “I don’t wanna.” He argued. “Much rather kiss you.”

srickeral  asked:

I have a request, can you make a short story about stiles and his bodyguard? It is interesting. thanks.

I’m not a writer but I wrote a little snippet of story when I was first drafting the description for the Bodyguard AU.

This is just a (very) brief draft of how I imagined it going when Stiles first found out about the photos that had been published of him and Derek. I couldn’t continue it from this point because I don’t really know how to but here’s the small scene I managed to write :) 

Derek surveyed Stiles form across the kitchen. There was a tension in his posture that Derek wasn’t used to seeing and his knuckles stood out white and stark from the tight hold he had on his smart phone. Derek knew what he was looking at. It was the same thing Derek had seen on his computer this morning. The same thing that had caused him to rush over to Stiles’ at 7am.

“I think they got my good side.” Derek’s attempt to lighten the mood was met by a resounding silence.

“Give it a few days and this will all have blown over. They’ll forget about this as soon as the next celebutant checks herself into rehab.” His attempt at reassurance also seemed to fall flat. Stiles was sat stock still, staring at the photos on his phone with a furrowed brow.

“You’re not reading the articles are you?” Derek asked. “It’s a load of bullshit, Stiles and you know it.” More silence.

“For God’s sake Stiles say something!” Derek snapped, “I normally can’t get you to shut up so can you please kick that big mouth into gear and tell me how you’re feeling about this.”

Finally Stiles turned to look at Derek. His face was blank but Derek had been working for him for two years and he could see the storm brewing behind his eyes. He bit his bottom lip and Derek had to hold in a groan. There was serious shit to be dealt with and now was not the time to be getting turned on. They should be focused on dealing with the pictures.

“I need to talk to Lydia.” Derek was relieved that Stiles seemed to have gotten over the shock. Lydia was Stiles’ publicist and manager and she was bound to know what to do about the photos. He was actually quite surprised that she hadn’t gotten wind of these photos and stopped them before they were published.  Derek’s seen much larger scandals than this disappear when Lydia works her magic.

“That’s a good idea. Let me give her a call and then I can escort you over to her offices so we can get this whole mess str-“

“I’ve already called her,” Stiles interrupted Derek. “She’s coming over here and I haven’t got any events tonight so I won’t need a bodyguard. You can have the day off Derek.”

Stiles’ tone was cold, almost robotic and it was putting Derek on edge.

“OK that’s fine, you don’t need me to be a bodyguard today, but don’t you think I should stick around talk to Lydia anyway. I mean I am pretty involved in this scandal.”

Anger flickered across Stiles’ face. “It’s not a sca-,” He cut himself off. “You know what? Just go home, Derek. I don’t need you here.”

Derek opened his mouth to protest, but Stiles had already stood up and swept out of the room. 

high school au where poe is the star member of the lacrosse team and finn writes for the school newspaper. 

poe’s so good that he’s attracted colleges who want to recruit him, but he doesn’t let it get to his head. he is just so goddamn nice and friendly with everyone

finn, on the other hand, is not the most vocal or noticed person. he’s good friends with rey, and the two of them are as thick as thieves. he loves to write, and he’s had a crush on poe since freshman year. poe’s talked with him a few times, but he’s not much on poe’s radar. not with all the friends he has and the groupies that crowd him.

rey teases him a little for the doe-eyed expression he has whenever he’s in the same room.

but he’s observant, which makes him a damn good writer, the teacher heading the newspaper, leia, knows that and always gives him the lead stories. because hot damn people are actually reading the school newspaper on a regular basis for once.

but leia is also observant. she has noticed finn’s crush over the years, so when poe gets to senior year and the lacrosse team goes to the national lacrosse high school showcase and all the colleges start flocking to recruit him, she asks finn to go to all of the games and write articles.

finn is surprised, but leia promises that he can still write non sport-related articles as well. so finn goes to every game and makes some notes. rey usually goes with him and reminds to keep him on track because it’s hard to pay attention entirely with poe playing, but he still writes great articles.

one day rey can’t come to a game because she’s sick, and after the game is over, finn is still sitting in the now-empty bleachers and writing his last few notes. poe comes up to him and thanks him for writing the way too flattering articles.

finn doesn’t entirely know what to say, and poe talks about how he’s not even half as good as the articles make him sound. finn argues against it, and poe says that he’s embarrassed that he’s never properly introduced himself before.

poe talks about how he’s read most of the articles finn has written in the past four years at school and that he’s read his creative works in the newspaper as well, and he’s always loved them. and they start talking about favorite authors and tv shows and whatever else, and suddenly they’re sitting in the bench outside the stadium three hours after the game.

and at the end, poe leans in and kisses his cheek and says that he hopes he won’t have to wait until the next game to see finn again.

Like A Real Family Now

Summary: Dan thinks Phil is cheating on him and confronts him, only to discover something even more surprising.

Word Count: 1,120

Genre: angsty but turns fluffy

Warning: like two swear words I think? cheating

A/N: This is my first phanfic and I wrote it in about an hour so it’s not a masterpiece but it’s just kinda fun idk 

Phil was cheating on him.

For the life of him, Dan couldn’t come up with another explanation.  The last few weeks his boyfriend had been sneaking around and making unexplained phone calls, and the internet history on his computer had been wiped. The pair told each other everything, and Phil simply hadn’t been acting himself recently (of course, cheating seemed quite out of character for Phil in the first place).  But the final straw had come earlier that day. Dan hadn’t been with their publishers all day having a discussion about book publicity, and Phil, allegedly, had been home sick all day. This seemed almost inevitable after VidCon and Summer In the City, so Dan didn’t question it. But when a fan tweeted a picture of Phil hugging a stranger outside of a random house somewhere in Suffolk, wearing the same clothes he had been in when Dan left the house, it was all Dan could do to keep from breaking down in the middle of the meeting.

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ananbeth  asked:

i was looking through my to do tag and came across the post with “okay i get it you’re a great thief and don’t want to go to jail but i’m the exhausted af detective that’s assigned to catch you i stg if you let me bring you in so i can sleep i’ll get you a good deal” au and all i want is this jasper fic i mean cOME ON

Jason leans back in his desk chair, a soft creak echoing off the tiled floors and vacant desks. Every other detective has already packed up and gone home, letting him have the run of the floor. He stares into the florescent lighting, combing through the details of the case. There’s nothing he can’t tell you about all sixteen of her robberies, from the serial numbers of the items taken to how long it took her to lift her prize. He’s memorized every piece of information about what she’s done, but he can never seem to figure out what she’s going to do.

Her last play had been weeks ago, a dangerous daylight grab from a gallery. It had taken her sixty-seven seconds to come through the front door, distract security, snatch the painting, and walk out a side door. Jason had burst through the front door seconds after she’d left, finding only three million dollars worth of missing art and a new determination to find her.

Intuition tells him she’ll strike again, and soon. It’s been too long since she pulled of a job and she’ll be growing restless. All he has to do is figure out where her next target is, something far easier said than done.

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For Luck

“What about you?”

The question was met with silence, her face turning away because she didn’t want to give voice to the answer that they both knew.  It wasn’t hard to agree to sacrifice herself for the others.  It was the right thing to do, and as a future Keeper she knew the importance of sacrifice for the many.  That didn’t mean, however, that she really wanted to talk about it.

“Perhaps you will surprise it… find a way.”

She gave a brief, silent laugh at that and looked back at him.  “Maybe.”

She herded the others that were staying with her to the door, murmuring promises that she would make sure they were as far away as possible before she fired the trebuchet.

“Herald."  His voice stopped her before she could follow them outside, and she turned to face him again, curiosity writing itself over her expression.

"You need to make sure you keep its attention until we are above the tree line.”

She nodded, her mind already on what was to come.

“If we are to have a chance- if you are to have a chance- make sure that thing hears you.”

She nodded again, but managed this time to focus long enough to see his face fall.  She did want to go out this way, with someone already mourning her lose when it hadn’t even come yet.


It was his turn to look curious, his body half turned away from her, and his gaze not meeting her own.


She trotted the short distance between them, her hands coming up to clutch at the feathers of his over tunic.  She didn’t give him a chance to think, didn’t give herself a chance for it either before she raised to her toes and pressed her lips to his.

It was chaste by even the most innocent of standards, but he jerked at the contact.  In the seconds that it lasted it was only in the last few that she felt his hands come up to her arms and tighten.

She pulled back even as he leaned into her, a smile breaking over her face.  “For luck.  Or because I refuse to die without a kiss from a handsome man.  Either way you want to look at it.”

He stared wide eyed at her, his hands flexing into her flesh a moment before they fell away.  “For luck than.”

She nodded and stepped away from him, enjoying the way his cheeks had been burnished to a dark red.  “See you on the other side."  Whether she meant in this life or the next was left up for interpretation, and she hurried out of the Chantry without another word.


Later, much later, after the explosion of fire, and Corypheus, and her desperate hike through the snow, she was dimly aware of being scooped up, words of thanks echoing around her.

Whatever she was being held against was hard, metal she assumed, and ice cold against her side, but her head was pillowed against warm, ticklish feathers, so she couldn’t complain.  Not that she had the energy for it even if she had wanted to.

She opened bleary eyes enough to see a haze of red at her side, and Cassandra’s concerned face.  Following the sound of a voice issuing orders she realized that she was being held by Cullen, his face set in tense lines as he walked with her towards the fires of the camp.

She couldn’t help the slightly delirious, and certainly goofy smile that stretched her face, even as she heard a croak of a laugh slip from her throat.

"Seems it was lucky after all."  The words were hoarse and half mumbled, but they caught the Commander’s attention, and he glanced down at her long enough to assess the cuts she could feel on her face.

"So it was.”

She smiled again, her head falling more heavily onto his chest before the darkness reclaimed her.

FF#9 Talisman

Here is my contribution for this week’s flash fiction prompt by smoakandarrow. As always, thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy!


Sleep and Oliver hated each other.  

Or rather, Oliver hated to sleep.

It wasn’t always this way. Before the ocean swallowed his soul and spat him up on purgatory, Oliver slept like an ignorant child who expected to wake the next day.

He didn’t dread the blackness.

Did not know demons and ghosts hovered around in the shadows of his mind, just waiting to devour his sanity between the few hours a night exhaustion would force his eyes to drooped and his mind would override his own desire to stay awake.

Then the moment his eyes would close and his consciousness became dormant, his subconscious ran rampant.  Monstrous nightmares, blended into one another, each shredding his heart, until he woke panting and looking to kill anything in front of him.

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