Psst you got any good sick or injured Keith fic recs?
OK! finally getting around to answering this. sorry it took so long but ive like literally had to go through all of my bookmarks to find some, and even then the ones im about to rec are pretty loose on the sick/injured Keith.
Needless to say, theres lots of angst, some have happy endings, some dont. Ill add the warnings in for each rec
Warnings: N/A Summary: After the wormhole collapses, Keith finds himself stranded on a strange planet. Alone. Until Lance comes along. With their lions dead and resources limited, Keith and Lance need to put aside their differences and work together to get home. Wherever that may be, now. WC: 26966 (6/6) General Notes: Its the typical fic of Lance and Keith getting stranded on a planet post s1 wormhole collapse. From what i remember its told mostly through Keith’s pov and I enjoyed it for all its worth. 7/10
Warnings: Major character injury Summary: “Keith, if we make it out of this alive, I’m going to kiss you.” WC: 6421 General Notes: I really wish i remembered more of this one, i can only tell you that it was good. Lance is the one that ends up hurt the most, but like both of them are pretty beat up. 8/10
Warning: N/A Summary: “We’re not robbing the bank of the biggest crime lord here, Lance. Do you have a death wish?!”“Let’s just do our damn best to not die. I am too gorgeous to expire this early, dude — I haven’t even hit my prime yet.”Six weeks after crashing landing on this miserable world, the Red and Blue Paladins are on the verge of losing everything. This is how Lance and Keith turned it all around and earned their badass reputation as The Two McClains: Mercenaries That Get The Job Done. WC: 13181 General Notes: They both get pretty scuffed up in this one, and its more of that dynamic duo action. i really love these two as space mercenaries/pirates. 8/10
Warning: N/A Summary:Keith and Lance comfort each other later after Keith tells everyone he is Galra.Lance didn’t get the chance to tell Keith his scar is actually really sexy though. WC: 1134 General Notes: Short and sweet post ep8. You know that shoulder injury he gets, all about that. 8/10
Warning: N/A Summary: Keith gets hurt during a mission, and Lance is not sure how to handle that.Lance wakes up on the floor outside of the medical bay, jerking wildly, body a mess of aches and twinges. WC: 19418 General Notes: summary pretty tells all there is to this fic, and its pretty much all this, and Lance not knowing what to do with himself really. I loved it. 9/10
Warning: N/A Summary: Keith recognizes him immediately. Alarm bells go off in his head. This person is important, he thinks. He wishes he could remember.“Keith!” he exclaims, “Look who’s finally awake. How are you feeling today?”Keith falters. His mind is working a mile a minute trying to recall this person’s name, what he is to him.“Um… who are you?” he asks dumbly. He immediately regrets it._______Keith suffers from dissociative amnesia. WC: 4107 General Notes: a;sdkjgnasah this fic, holy shit, keith with amneisia kills me. my heart hurt the whole time, ust ughhhh. He’s not necessarily hurt but Lance is there taking care of him and boy, the domestic life suits them, but damn does it hurt. 10/10
Warnings: Major Character Death Summary: Two deaths and one funeral. Keith has trouble readjusting to Earth and Lance has trouble dealing with Keith. WC: 9845 General Notes: I’m emotional over this still and i havent read it in forever ok/ thats all i gotta say. 9/10
Warning: N/A Summary: “Show me how much you hate me.”Keith wants to know what Lance’s problem is. The answer might surprise him. WC: 3632 (3/3) General Notes: Boys being boys and being idiots. What can you do. 7/10
Warning: N/A Summary: Keith is sure that he’s having a heart attack. Or that he hurt his brain when he fell earlier. Because it’s simply not possible that the boy who’s sitting next to him is not a hallucination. How could someone so gorgeous just sit in an emergency room at night?"Keith and Lance unexpectantly meet at the emergency room in the middle of the night. WC: 23862 (4/4) General Notes: lmao this one is great, def not as heavy as the others, but both of these doofuses get injured. keith is a hockey player and lance has legs for days. enjoy. 10/10
Warning: N/A Summary: Keith and Lance are captured and stuck in a cell together, but it’s not the Galra. They almost wish it was. These Cordalians feed off of emotions, and their favorite emotion is sadness. Worse, they’ve found a way to make their victims relive their worst memories to make that pain fresh again, and Keith has a lot of terrible memories he’d rather not relive. WC: 18925 (8/8) General Notes: just read it. please. 10/10
Warning: Graphic Depictions of Violence Summary: “My mom always hated the Garrison and what we were supposed to do there. I never got it. How can you despise the idea of being a hero?” Lance laughed a little here, dryly. “But I think I understand now.”He took a shuddering breath.“Because heroes aren’t meant to survive,” he choked, and then buried his face as the tears started falling again. WC: 8463 General Notes: askgjnafbab, lance breaking down in this fic hurt my heart. 8/10
Warning: N/A Summary: 'Lance wasn’t sure if he’d imagined the brief tremble at the corner of Keith’s lips or not, that slight stutter that promised a smile. But before he could guess further, Keith gave his knee a shove and got to his feet. He reached out to him, “I’m done here, and I’ve still got some daisies to sell you.”“Yeah,” Lance agreed, looking down at the extended palm, noting the little Saturn tattoo on the inside of Keith’s wrist where the sleeve hiked. He took the hand, “better not overprice those too, you asshole.”’(in which lance is a broke university student trying to impress a pretty girl with flowers, but ends up falling for the florist that sells them instead.) WC: 63774 (11/11) General Notes: This isn’t the kind of physical hurt that most people think of, but Keith does get emotionally hurt in this one and it just breaks my heart. i really loved this, its wonderfully written, and its just, wow. 10/10
Warning: Graphic Depictions of Violence Summary: It was his fault. He shouldn’t have retreated – he should have ran after them, Galra forces be damned, and ripped the red paladin right out of his weaponized hands, shooting the commander dead on the spot.But he hadn’t. Lance stood there, frozen with adrenaline and fear, before backing out with tears in his eyes, justifying it to himself by saying, ‘he won’t get far, we can easily get him back once I have Voltron with me.’He’d forgotten they didn’t have Voltron. He’d forgotten that without Keith, Voltron was nothing.Keith is Galra. Keith is gone. Keith is Galra. Keith is gone. WC: 28197 (yes one chapter) General Notes: this is more along the lines of keith finding out he is galra and hence running away its still one of the best fics in this fandom imo. 10/10
warning: N/A Summary: Lance deals with the aftermath of being sucked into a black hole and stranded on an alien planet.When Lance wakes up, all he can see is blue. WC: 16921 General Notes: more of klance being stranded on a planet post wormhole collapse, and just yes. 10/10
Just Static by Jessadilla/wobblyarms
Warning: N/A Summary: –Static—–iro, Hunk, Kei—, nybody? I’m—–static—-I’m sorry guys. This is all my—-static–cc—–I found my coordinates. They’re—stttcc–guys. I hear something—–scccc–end transmission-Alone on a hostile planet, transmissions aren’t getting through. How did it come to this? WC: 84141 (16/16) General Notes: just holy fuck. this fic made me cry, like straight up. it is more than likely one of the few fics that have made me cry, and i dont cry easy. 100/10
the howlies got in a lot of bar fights. you might think that the last thing a bunch of soldiers would want to do with their free time is fight people, but actually bar fights were a great stress relief. nobody really got seriously injured, and we tried to keep property damage to a minimum. (and we also almost never started bar fights, for the record. most of the time it was guys from another unit who wanted to prove how badass they were by taking on the infamous howling commandos.) so bar fights themselves weren’t that unusual.
but peggy’s bar fights…oh, they were glorious.
see, peggy never got in a fight for no reason; she was smarter than that. but when she did fight, it was truly beautiful. ive never seen a better right cross, before or since.
so one time we were on leave, sipping drinks in this english pub. the howlies were at the back table, enjoying a couple pitchers, while peggy was up at the bar, chatting with the barmaid. many of the bars and pubs back then had female bartenders–filling the gaps with the men off at war. and generally barmaids (which was what a female bartender was called back then) were the sort of girl pegs got along with–sensible, dependable, and not willing to take shit from any man. so she often enjoyed commiserating with the barmaids while we drank. she used to say she had to be free of us ‘charming gentlemen’ before she wound up blowing things up as erratically as we did. which was hurtful. our explosions were very intentional. mostly.
so peggy got to chat about the best ways to hurl drunken idiots out doors and we got to ply steve with alcohol to see how much booze it would take to make him drunk. (tragically, we never found out.)
on this particular occasion, peggy was sitting at the bar when this mountain of a man came in. and i mean huge. thor-sized. like the hulk’s pinker younger brother. and with him came a dozen or so of his closest friends, all locals. (they may also have been poorly disguised orcs. im not sure, but i wouldn’t discount it as a possibility after seeing all the nonsense ive seen) the group of them made their way up to the bar, wedged their way in, and started harassing the barmaid.
now, i don’t know what they said. peggy refused to repeat it. all i know is that one of the larger idiots said something stupid, laughed, and reached out to grope the barmaid. his hand made it about six inches from her chest when peggy’s fist broke his nose. he hit the floor like a tree falling, and the bar went quiet for a split second before one exceptionally suicidal idiot lunged at peggy.
everything went crazy. there were a good few dozen of us 107th guys in the bar, and all of us knew and adored pegs, so when the mountain-men went after her, every fine man of the 107th went after them. but it turned out that the locals defended their own, and we were pretty evenly matched for numbers. within seconds, everyone was throwing punches. bottles were thrown. dernier used a tablecloth to blind a man and threw him out a window. dumdum used one guy’s fists to hit another guy. i hurled bottlecaps at people’s eyeballs, because it’s fun.(im a sniper. we like distance) steve tried to wade through the chaos to get to peggy, but people kept punching him and then clutching their hands in agony, so he got kind of bogged down.
at the bar, peggy was demonstrating exactly why she was the 107th’s darling–because she could put a grown man twice her size on the ground in two seconds flat. she knocked out six men; seven more promptly fell in love with her.
as the chaos began to wind down, most of the locals had either been beaten down or fled, and only the mini-hulk and a couple others were left, brawling like berserkers. we were just about ready to turn steve loose on them when the barmaid handed peggy a stool. peggy took it, walked up behind where most of us howlies were still duking it out, and broke the stool over the big guy’s head.
he went down hard. the rest of them surrendered out of terror.
(and, possibly, they had also fallen prey to abruptly-in-love-with-peggy-carter syndrome. but really, who wasn’t?)
⇁male objectification, superficiality, fuckgirl!reader, dirty talk, and cocky!jin if that isn’t your thing
⚬ word count
After trooping through a series of horrendous first dates and mediocre hookups, you were convinced you would never find a man capable of satisfying your needs. Your friend recommends you try a slightly unconventional method to remedy your bad luck.
alternatively: seokjin has a five star dick and you decide to give it a go
Soulmate AU: You Can See Color Once You Meet Your Soulmate II
@kurtwxgners I’m gonna do something Frank in the future for you but until then, Soft Boy Trio ™ Member Jonathan!
You had been
blessed with artistic abilities, specifically when it came to drawing and
painting. Starting in your youth, when you could hold a pencil or crayon just
right enough to make a coherent image, people had praised you on your skills.
And, when you got old enough, you began to pat yourself on the back as well: The
shadows were placed just right, you knew your way about light reflection for
the most part, and even your least realistic pieces had some charm to them that
you couldn’t help but find yourself impressed by.
Now all you
needed was for your soulmate to come along, give you the ability to see color,
and you’d be all set.
You didn’t want your friends and family to take it the
wrong way – you wanted to meet your soulmate for more than just the fact that
their presence in your life would open up a whole new level of sight for you.
The idea that life would supposedly become livelier by meeting the one you were
destined to be with just tickled the romantic inside you, and you couldn’t wait
to experience something only one person could give you.
However, you also needed to take it from a practical
standpoint: You, as an artist, craved to see exactly what you were creating.
Selfish as it may be, it also seemed reasonable that it wouldn’t do just to
match shades of gray with shades of gray and hope you’d selected the right
color or not see what some teachers, parents, and even a few scattered
classmates were seeing. You weren’t trying to be dramatic when you insisted
that there was a certain emptiness in being the creator and not being able to
see exactly what everyone else saw in your work.
You just wanted to see it, too.
And if that dang soulmate of yours would hurry up
already, you’d be able to see it together. Share a first that meant so much to
you both on a loving level and a level regarding your pride as a creative mind.
But alas, when your family
moved to the small town of Hawkins, Indiana, you felt that hope plummet. By the
end of the week, everyone knew of you. You’d been hoping to mirror such
knowledge but alas, that would be stretching it. Even though Hawkins was the
picturesque small town spoken of in romance novels and lists in magazines,
there was no way you could know and meet everyone.
“Just take it
one step at a time,” your mother offered when she saw you pouting in your chair
at the dinner table. When she didn’t see a lift in your demeanor, she likened
it another way: “You can’t rush good art, right? Paint by numbers and you’ll
get the image you want eventually.” You huffed quietly in your
seat and slumped even lower. You appreciated her attempt to help but at this
point, the pessimism was beginning to loom over you like the grey clouds that
loomed over Hawkins on any given day.
“But painting by numbers is so boring!” you whined.
You dipped your head back dramatically. “And basic!” you added.
At this point, your father saw fit to offer his own
insight. “Yeah, it’s basic, but, hey, good things need to start off little
first. You didn’t just get good at art, remember? I mean, yeah, you were ‘destined’
to be great at it, but it still took some time. Likewise,” he took your mothers
hand into his, “love takes time – even with a soulmate involved. So you have to
paint it bit by bit, starting with the patience it’s gonna take for you to meet
Your response was another quiet exhale, though you did
prod thoughtfully at the food you’d left mostly untouched on your plate.
Nearly two weeks later, you were still mulling over
those words: “Paint by numbers, great things take time.” It had become a
mantra, not only for waiting but for anything you did, including artwork. You’d
since joined your school’s art club, made a couple of friends. You hadn’t quite
established yourself in Hawkins just yet, but these distractions were just
enough for you to bide your time with.
Unfortunately, distractions do not always come with a
guarantee of never again experiencing artist’s block: That was always going to
happen, no matter what. And considering how quiet the town was compared to your
previous home, it was happening a lot more often than it had ever before. It
was frustrating! Once you saw some places the first two times, you’d need some
time to pass before it felt new and refreshing to go there again – there was so
little to draw inspiration from, you felt.
It therefore had become commonplace for you to
approach the art club’s instructor and ask for some time by yourself to gather
your thoughts and stroke your usually decent imagination.
You hadn’t meant to wander far this time. But that
temptation to balance along the nearby train tracks was all too strong. Most temptations
are when you’re unable to occupy your mind with better habits.
You never thought about how silly you might’ve looked,
clumsily waving your arms and bending at awkward angles at sudden intervals.
You only stared down at your feet as you place one in front of the other on the
step at a time, paint by numbers
you rush, it won’t go according to plan
One foot –
In front of the other –
things takes time –
You sputtered as your foot slipped off the rail, your
body flopping sporadically. You were more of a painter, but you definitely knew
that sound. It was the sound that would always accompany school art shows, the
sound you’d always hear after your parents demanded that you stand next to a
work you’d had hung up and smile awkward for: A camera.
As soon as you could regain your composure, you
whipped your head around. Even in the quick motion, your eyes were able to
train themselves on the then blurry figure that was standing yards away from
you. What they weren’t able to do, however, were properly adjust as a sudden
world of color violently engulfed your vision.
Your mouth, unfortunately, was already too full of
accusations to be stopped in time.
“Hey, what’re youdowugh –”
That was all you managed to say and slur before your
vision, once again, became engulfed in color. However, it was the color black,
a color you already knew, and it swallowed up everything.
You could hear the old cot beneath you creak as you
moved. If that wasn’t enough to wake you up, the scratchy, old blanket on top
of you definitely was. A lowly groan escaped your lips as you came to, rubbing
your eyes free of whatever dragged you under. Before the fuzzies had cleared,
however, you could hear the school nurse chirping from nearby.
“Glad you’ve joined us here, darlin’!”
You grunted in response before resting your hands on
your blanketed legs. It was only when you groggily blinked that your vision
confirmed a silent thought that you had woken up wondering.
“There’s …” you breathed. You were unable to
finish that sentence. Luckily, the nurse seemed to already know what you were
“Color? You fainted due to overstimulation. Don’t feel
bad about it, though, honey: lots of people experience this when they finally
meet their soulmate. Especially younger
folks. I couldn’t tell you how many students have come through my office after
fainting from spotting their loved one – ”
At this point, you’d tuned out. Actually, you’d tuned
out when she said that word: Soulmate.
Despite it being a thought that had haunted your mind for what felt like eons,
it all just seemed foreign to you. Almost unnatural.
“ – in fact, he should be back in a moment; he just
walked out for a moment.”
“Wait, what?” you blurted out without thinking. The
nurse, however, continued to be unfazed.
“Still a bit foggy in the head, are we? Your soulmate:
he just stepped out for a sec and should be right back here in a jiffy. I suppose
he needed some air; I can’t blame him: The poor dear looked so worried when he
came in here, holding you like a princess. Couldn’t tell you how he managed to
speak so fast when he was explaining what happened.” She smiled. “He was really
worried about you, hun.”
As if on cue, a knock sounded at the door, followed by
the clicking of it being opened. You noted that the knock was very soft. Almost
as though the person doing it were afraid of hurting the inanimate slab of
wood. But other than that, you weren’t able to bring yourself to actually look
at the person entering to learn anything else of them. Your head, your heart,
your soul were all screaming in
unison: It’s him, it’s him!
When you didn’t look up, instead compelling your eyes
to remain focused on your fingers, plucking at the scratchy blanket, the trio tried other methods of enforcing their demands: Your heart threw itself against
your ribcage, your mind whirled so badly that you swore you could feel your
brain dancing, and your soul seemed to be blitzing inside of you into every
nook and cranny. It was all too much, so much so that you couldn’t hear the
quiet footstep nearing you.
It wasn’t until your body allowed for you enough quiet
to feel a new presence by your side. It was in this acknowledgement that you
were able to hear his voice: “H-hello …”
In this moment, it hadn’t occurred to you that your
soulmate would be equally as nervous as you. Inhaling deeply, you spared no
slowness in your final attempt to look upon your destined loved one. You hadn’t
learned anything from whipping your head earlier; why start now?
The first thing you noticed were his eyes. That was
probably the first thing most people
noticed when they saw Jonathan Byers: they were so unusually tired for someone
his age, even more so nervous and even almost saddened. If it wasn’t his eyes,
then most people would firstly note that his demeanor flowed with an overwhelming
sense of shyness, effecting his posture to the point of appearing smaller and
more fragile than most boys his age. This is what you took note of second. The
third thing, which would’ve been the first thing if not for the fact that he could occasionally go without it, was
the clunky camera he was holding in his hands; almost like how a child holds
their safety blanket.
But what many and most who did not know Jonathan Byers
would not have seen would be the small, wary smile that graced his features.
That was reserved for those he felt the closest to.
You weren’t certain what to say. Sure, you, like many
others at some point in their lives, had made a plan about what you would
probably say upon first meeting your intended. You practiced a speech here or
there, thought up possible scenarios within which you could throw a cool,
flirty joke. It never occurred to you that you’d faint upon first meeting,
however. So you were at a loss for proper words.
“You … take pictures?” Smooth, (Y/N). Surprisingly,
though, your soulmate didn’t seem bothered by the clumsy first sentence. In
fact, he seemed more bothered by the fact that it was his picture-taking that
had caused your first meeting to go so bizarrely.
“I … I’m sorry. I was taking pictures and …”
he seemed to struggle to find the right words that wouldn’t come off too
terribly. “You just looked really – r-really natural and I really wanted to ..
. . to …” He gave up altogether, instead directing his attention to the
floor where he fell into an awkward foot-to-foot shuffle. You didn’t mind. In fact,
you were finding yourself rather flattered.
You folded your legs up to your chest and rested a
blushing cheek on them as you smiled back up at him. “It’s okay,” you offered. “I’m
(Y/N) (L/N), by the way.” You watched him nod slightly.
“I’m Jonathan. Jonathan Byers,” he offered. You could
tell he was trying and failing miserably not to blush right back at you.
“Well, Jonathan,” you began, “I can’t begin to express
what a pleasure it is to meet you. And if you don’t mind, I’d really love to see that photo you took of me
when you get it developed.” You bit your lip. “And all your other pieces, if
you don’t mind … In fact, I can show you my pain –”
Wait … Weren’t you in art club before all this!?
Jonathan, in his nervous nature, couldn’t help but
jump slightly as you hollered, “Oh, crap!”, watching in confusion as you
fervently detangled yourself from the scratchy blanket.
You weren’t thinking when your grabbed his hand and
began sprinting down the hallway back to the art room. It didn’t even occur to
you that you didn’t really know Jonathan, other than the fact that he was your
soulmate and a photographer. You were just doing what suddenly came naturally:
Wanting your soulmate to be around you. Besides, great things take time; you
had to start somewhere. Even if “somewhere”
meant dragging your confused, startled, and yet somewhat love-struck soulmate
down the hallway.
Jonathan stood nervously behind you, just watching
you. He felt bad, guilty if he had to give it a name. He didn’t need to worry
about colors in his photos – they were going to happen without his influence.
Painting, on the other hand? That required
some acknowledgement of which colors the creator of the piece was using.
He gulped quietly as he watched you continue to stare
at the painting you’d been working on earlier that day. It had been five
minutes. You hadn’t said a work. You just … stared at it, arms to your
side, staring straightforward, no head-cocking or anything.
Jonathan hadn’t been seeing color for too long, not
even two hours. But considering that he’d been seeing it longer than you had,
as your fainting spell took some time out of you, he had an idea of what colors
certain things were supposed to be.
The sky wasn’t usually yellow, from what he could tell, and the clouds he saw weren’t lilac and indigo. The sun, from what he could squint at, didn’t appear
to be blue, and the trees he’d seen while running back to the school with you
in his arms didn’t appear to vary in any colors beyond brown and green, so he
couldn’t exactly say that trees were actually blood red with white and purple
Jonathan also hadn’t known you for long, not even
twenty minutes. So he couldn’t tell how much of a stickler and perfectionist
you might’ve been. But considering you expressed such a high passion for art as
he did with his photography, he worried he may have ruined all your hard work
with his lack of presence.
It was therefore a surprise to the young man when you
turned to face him, a big smile plastered on your face as you squealed, “I
“Babe!” Came Digger’s booming voice from inside the hotel suite. “-’Ey babe, where are ya?”
“In here!” You hummed in delight and wiggled around in the water. Currently residing in heaven, you sat back and waited for Digger to open the bathroom door to find you comfortably sprawled out in the bathtub.
It was very weird to have Joe away from you. Sure, you two were apart sometimes, usually for work, but he didn’t go on holidays very often, so going back to an empty bed at night was quite odd for you. You had to remind yourself not to go to his office and try to coax him away from his computer and into bed. He had only been gone for a few days, but the flat felt so empty without him that it felt like a lifetime. You had done your best to let him have his fun with his mates from back home; it was Ben’s stag-do and Joe rarely got to see him alone, much less all his old friends at once.
He had been really good about checking in and sending you lots of pictures, showing you that he missed you too. He even managed to sneak in a facetime call between the bars they were going to, and it warmed your heart to see him on your phone screen.
However, his little reminders didn’t keep you busy at home for long. You had spent the whole of the last few days deep cleaning the whole flat, washing all the sheets and remaking the beds, unpacking a few boxes of stuff that just needed to be put away, and even assembling a new table that arrived for the guest room just to keep yourself busy in your down time. Still, you found yourself bored without Joe beside you. So to say you were excited to have him back home was an understatement. You answered on the first ring when he called that evening.
“Ello love, we’ve just landed, I’m getting off the plane in a few minutes and then I’ll catch an uber home!” He updated you, and he sounded a bit tired, but also happy to be back on the ground.
“Okay! I can’t wait to see you!”
“Same here. Do you want me to pick up a Waga’s on my way in? I can’t be bothered to cook.”
“I can order it and then you can just come straight home,” you said a bit too quickly. You heard him chuckle into the speaker.
“Baby, it’s on the way and it’ll take five minutes. I’ll call it ahead so that it’s quick and then I’ll be home as soon as I can.” You could hear the smile in his voice, and it made you blush. You always got overexcited to see him, and he thought it was the cutest things. You were still shy about it, because a few of your exes had found it annoying.
“No, you don’t have to call ahead, don’t rush. Sorry to be pushy, I just miss you,” you mumbled.
“Hey, none of that, nothing to apologize for. I like pushy, and I miss you too. Were about to get off the plane, so I gotta go. I’ll see you soon. Love you.”
“Love you too. Hurry!”
And with that he hung up, and you began to wait again.
They knew it was a gimmick, but, like most struggling groups at the time, they were desperate. A last-minute gig at the Apollo filling in for a food-poisoned O'jay’s and the Supa-Fly’s had caught the fever: they had had a taste of the big time. Their dance moves were good but not great, and Pete’s bass playing had been slowing them down ever since he lost those four fingers after slamming them in his Caddy door. They needed an edge. When Terrence accidentally left a pair of his shoes on stage before a performance, Gandy quipped they had their new lead dancer. And so, “Invisible Larry and the Supa-Fly’s” were born. The band prospered in the northern circuit and even birthed a mild dance craze in North Phillie (“Do The Invisible Larry”). However, during a coveted performance on “Soul Train”, Terrence’s attempt to animate the shoes using tethered gerbils went awry (Don Cornelius was deathly afraid of rodents), and the band broke up shortly thereafter.
Spot is a vegetarian, and when he and Race move in together, Race has the hardest time learning how to cook things that don’t involve meat.
For the first month or so, Spot basically has to live off of protein shakes, because Race keeps accidentally making chicken fettuccini or burgers, until Race finally buys a vegetarian cookbook. (Thug Kitchen. Check it out.)
Why isn’t Spot cooking, you ask? He accidentally set the stove on fire one day trying to make a quesadilla and was banned from using the appliances.
Let me tell yall about their dog. She’s a pit bull mix named Rosie, and Spot picked her up one day from the shelter. (“I was just there during my lunch break for fun and I couldn’t not get her!”)
Race was kind of hesitant about getting a dog- he’s never had pets before- but goddamn, does he love Rosie. She sleeps in their bed every night and takes up more room than either of them combined.
They play tons of video games together, and have a horror movie night at least every two weeks, usually more often. The bloodier, the better.
Spot’s the cleaner. Race is perfectly happy to leave dishes in the sink for a week or just pile the trash bags by the door. After one of their fights (which are always loud and explosive) they made a deal that Spot would keep things clean as long as Race cooked and did the laundry.
Speaking of laundry, they share socks. All of their friends think it’s kind of weird. But they always get mixed up in the wash, so they just decided to put them all in one drawer and stop trying to figure out whose was whose.
They argue a lot, but it’s never over anything serious, and they never stay mad for long. When Race is mad, he goes for a drive and when Spot gets mad, he goes to the gym. They both have their outlets and are respectful enough to give each other space when they need it.
Race snores like a chainsaw. Spot has invested in some really good earplugs.
You know that saying, “never go to bed angry”? Yeah, that’s bullshit. Sometimes they get angry right before bed and for that, there is a really good air mattress. It’s fine. They just sleep it off.
They have a really hard time agreeing on decor. For almost a year, their walls were just blank, white walls with nothing on them. They’ve divided out zones where they’re allowed to decorate.
The only exception was the time Race decided it would be cool to hang a clown mask on the wall. That resulted in their biggest fights ever. The clown mask is gone now.
Spot’s feel good show is the Great British Bake-off. Race’s feel good show is Criminal Minds. If one of them comes home and the other is watching one of those shows, they automatically know that it’s been a rough day.
Race plays piano.
Spot got Race a whiteboard once for Christmas, just so he could work out some of the physics issues he had to deal with at work. They used to have a strict “no work at home” rule, but it made Race twitchy and neurotic when he couldn’t work things out, so Spot finally gave in.
Spot sings in the shower. Not well. It always wakes Race up, because he has a tendency to take showers at ridiculous times, like 2 or 4 AM.
Spot is constantly falling asleep in places he shouldn’t, like on the couch or in the shower. Race normally just wakes him up and moves him to bed, but there have been a few times where he’s had to be carried. It’s not easy.
hey! I don’t know if you take requests or so, but I’ll take my chances. I loved both parts of “not my jersey” and was wondering if you could write some more parts? (: I loved both the relationship with Mitch and the aspiring relationship with Auston, and would love to read more about both! Have a great day! hugs x
Word count: 2563
Author’s Note: Ask and you shall receive! I really hope you guys like it, and if you want me to continue this series, let me know!
You liked to think that you were good at a number of things, but sleep was not one of those things. For the longest time, you had struggled night after night with finding a cure to your insomnia. You had tried melatonin, heating pads, moving electronics out of your room and only being on your bed when it was time to sleep, all to no avail. No matter what you tried, you still found yourself tossing and turning, your sheets tangling into a mess when you finally were able to find sleep. Mitch liked to joke that you were secretly a vampire and that was the reason why you couldn’t sleep until the sun was almost up and why you walked around with perpetually dark purple rings under your eyes.
Nothing made your sleepless nights worse than when you were home alone. Your anxious mind kept your thoughts racing with thousands of scenarios on what could go wrong with Mitch so many miles away and not in the next room. Needless to say, team road trips usually had you huddled up on the couch, watching Netflix with the lights on until you eventually passed out. You’re in this position tonight, blankets piled around you as you tightly clutch the remote, trying to focus on anything but sounds and shadows that might get your mind racing.
Remember: you are who you are and you are complete in yourself, with your strengths and weaknesses and follies and foibles and successes. It’s all apart of you and you don’t need to rip yourself apart for being imperfect.
Acknowledge: your talents, your strengths, your good ideas, your past successes, your struggles that you won through, your cute little habits, those times you were right, your accomplishments. You are great. Maybe not all the time, but you don’t have to be. You are great the way you are.
Accept: your flaws. Being wrong sometimes. Making mistakes. Not being good at everything. Imperfect grammar. That you don’t know everything. That you’re trying. That everything is a process and you are still learning. Always.
Enjoy: the life that you have. Indulge in your hobbies. Watch your favorite shows. Listen to your favorite music. Paint and write and dance. Take walks. Spend time with people you like. Sleep late. Eat good food. BECAUSE YOU DESERVE IT AND YOU ARE WORTH IT.
Practice. It is so hard to be good to yourself. Practice being good to the people you love. Support them. Then remember how you did it and treat yourself that way. Look for the good around you. Highlight the best parts of that book or movie or show or celebrity and talk them up, put them front and center. Enjoy them. Then remember how you did that and do it to yourself. Accept that the world is imperfect and bad things happen but remember that you have the power to change things in your world for the better and impact those close to you. Then remember that if the world has potential for good, so do you.
Believe: In Your Self. Because you are just as great as everyone else. And as humans we have the capacity to grow and change and this is part of our nature. If you do the work and believe in yourself and stay positive, you can be that powerful too. Powerful enough to be the person you want to be.
Request: Hi 😋 so I was hoping for a Hobi scenario 🙈 where he hears y/n talking with her BFF and he hears something about how she likes guys that are serious and kind of mysterious (but he didn’t know she was talking about anime guys) Then Hoseok starts acting serious and all that for y/n to like him more. P.S: I love your writing so much 😍
Genre: Fluff / Comedy.
Hoseok couldn’t decide if he had arrived at the best or at the worst time.
You were in your house enjoying a night with friends, and him, Hoseok didn’t mind being around you girls, he’d usually laugh his ass off at your occurrences or exactly the other way around, it was good for you as a couple to be able to feel so comfortable with each other’s friends since some times it was you coming to his house to have a great time with him and the guys, and he knew those troublemakers liked you as much as your friends liked him. So you were in a well build ground on the friends department.
He liked that, he liked to think that was one of the things that made your relationship so strong and then he heard the voice of your best friend talking and it was like betrayal.
-Come on Y/N, you don’t like them like Hoseok-
He had trusted her, he had given her his good will and showed her his jokes, for what? Was she getting into your head just like that? And how dared her, and you to speak like that so freely? He could go in at any minute. He had just gotten away to go to the bathroom and make a quick call to the manager and when he came back he started to hear this.
Hoseok hid himself against the wall feeling his heart beating faster, he was eavesdropping on your conversation, but then you were talking about him somehow, so he had the right to know.
You laughed making Hoseok frown, you found that funny?
-No I don’t, Hoseok is a different deal-
A different deal? So what? He was like some kind of exception? Hoseok had always thought he was your ideal type, the man you had waited for your whole life, not an exception.
-So how do you really like them Y/N?- your friend continued with that mischievous tone girls used with each other.
-Well, let’s see…- you started with the same tone. Hoseok usually found it endearing when he heard you like that, but now it was making him annoyed. What was so fun about this? Talking and thinking about other guys, your ideal type.
Even without wanting it Hoseok tuned in his ears to hear better what you’d say next.
-I like them like… mysterious you know? That type of guy who is a bit aloof and you don’t exactly know what he’s thinking, I don’t know, I think mysterious would be the best way to describe it-
Hoseok gasped under his breath, outraged. If he was sure about something in life was that he was everything but mysterious. And to you he was like an open book, he had really thought you liked that, but hearing this now made him think he had been wrong all this time.
Your friends laughed and you laughed with them, Hoseok’s frown deepened. He truly liked you, he loved you. And he didn’t want you to bore of him, so he thought about his odds and nodded with determination, if you wanted mystery then mystery you’d get.
Kenta We went and had a good time at the Haikyuu Concert 2017!! We snuck away from rehearsals… kidding, today was miraculously an off day!! lol The impact of hearing a live orchestra play music from the anime’s best scenes was amazing, and as I was listening to the soundtrack, there were a lot of moments where I was just completely moved… (T_T)
The road of sweat and tears and smiles that they’ve walked on… I suddenly realized that all the music of those moments really gets into you. Haikyuu is so great… I really feel this at various times. I feel nothing but gratitude that I can be involved in this stage play rendition of Haikyuu. So, there’s no way we can lose. Since the stage play too, has the ‘power of live performance’ as its weapon.
Plot: Dean Winchester dies, leaving his brother and his girl alone. All the frustration and anger brings Y/N and Sam together in a way that is a lot more than friendly comfort. As Sam and the reader delve into a relationship, a surprise visitor comes knocking on the door, changing everything.
Warning: Angst, fluff, Dean dying, much smut, unprotected sex (wrap it) kinda cheating but not really, swearing
hello loves! this will be my only post this week until next saturday because I have finals all this week and have to study! but i will still be accepting requests from anything you guys want or from this blurb list as well! hope you enjoy!
Being with Harry was hard. Relationships were hard, but being with Harry was hard. There was good times, great times even. But those amazing times were often forgotten when an argument striked. It would be stupid things, things that shouldn’t matter. He would leave his socks on the stairs everyday or you would forget to pick up dinner. They were ridiculous arguments, but compared to the deafening silence that now stands in the way of your relationship, you miss the arguments.