good-ju-ju

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ik i just run a tumblr smut page BUT!!!

FUCK ICE, free palestine, free congo, FUCK trump, FUCK musk, no one is illegal on stolen land, and if u disagree, FUCK YOU TOO!!!

i’ve said this before but if u support that fuckass orange in office, idc if ur a silent follower or ur like is ur only form of interacting with me, just know, i don’t want it!!! and u are a terrible person!!! 😛

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Queer Palestinian Books for Pride Month 🍉

Just a reminder: we do exist. ♥️

Please consider sharing this post, whether to show your support for Palestine, to boost awareness of these books (remember, reading is revolutionary), or to show your audience that you offer a safe space. I know it may seem small, but it makes a difference. Trust me. ♥️

Have you read any of these queer Palestinian books? If not, which would you consider reading first? ❓

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Peach

Michael Robinavitch x Reader

Unfortunately, You bruise like a peach. Fortunately, you are loved

Loving you, the world tended to remind Robby, was a virtue. A rare gift the world has continued to nurture for almost a whole year, as if he earned such a thing for his moves to be a healthier person.

Past musing on his motivation to slowly switch to nicotine gum and the therapy intake meeting he has on Thursday, there is you. Sweet and sensational you.

From the way you advocate for others and himself at a yell to the way you sprawled out in every space you took up, unafraid to be seen and self-knowing enough to know when that space is yours to take.

But, like most things in the life of Dr. Robby, there is a very specific hang up he is constantly navigating.

You bruise.

So easily, and you get hurt even easier.

Being blessed with a knack for being overtly expressive and critically passionate came with its consequences for you, and thus a new priority for him.

“Hey fruitcake! You know your peach is down here?” The voice of good old Myrna calls out unmistakably for Robby just as he enters the chaotic open space.

Her words don’t hit him as he initially waves her off and heads over to the hub at the center of the work flow.

The woman remains persistent as she wheels on closer to him “I’m serious you fucker, your sexier half is getting a check up right now from one of your ducklings”

Robby emptied his hands with a suffering sigh before he runs a hand down his face, grumbling as he lowers himself to make eye contact with the abrasive woman.

“Myrna-“ “don’t do that voice, it makes you sound like a prick” “-could you let me in on why you think their here?” He stands straight as he tilts his head at her

“Because, fruitcake, I had the privilege of watching your kids-“ “I’m not their father” “-panic all the way to the room when they finished introductions. I believe you were out sucking on those Marlboros Dana says you’re tryna kick”

The woman looks all too satisfied at how quickly Robby flushes, eyes darting to the ever changing treatment board before he walks away with a pace that makes the woman cackle as she calls out behind him

“It’s okay, this isn’t the worst thing they’ve come in with this month!”

“Oh there he is!” Your voice floats over to Robby from where you sit on the bed, the steady but clearly unnerved hands of Dr. Mel King press on your face for bruising in a way that has you flinching minutely “hey baby”

A wide smile sits on your face, something someone would mistake for the effect of a pain reliever or assume you incompetent for, and it is not as reassuring to him as you initially hoped.

“You order labs?” His question is met with a feeble nod and a raised brow from Mel as she continues on her exam

You are met with the disappointed face of one Michael Robinavitch, though it lasts for only a second until Dr. King’s hands apply enough pressure to your ankle to have you tear up

“What happened this time?” Robby sidesteps Mel to stand behind you, hands on your shoulders to minimize any flinch as she gets closer to the darkest part of the onset bruising and swelling.

“Mmm, my foot caught on that stack of books in my room you kept nagging about” another suffering sigh comes out of Robby as he quietly starts to rub at your shoulders, a quiet laugh fanning air into your hair as the man shakes his head when you yelp at pressure from a gloved hand.

Note: just a little something from my mind to you, clumsy people rise up

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Good-ju-ju’s Masterlist

Writing Prompts and rules

Crossovers

The Pitt

Top Gun

Marvel

DC

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Note: Hello! Welcome to my writing prompts, here I will be taking requests in my ask box. Please send me a corresponding emoji and a number from each list and enjoy

TW: this next section lists sensitive topics in reference to what I will not be writing

Rules

I do not write:

- any content involving minors or underage characters in sexual scenarios

- requested severe depictions of mental health, I prefer to do the research and write this with care if I am going to dive into it

- Sexual Assault, or any non-consensual scenario

Characters I write for:

The Pitt

Micheal Robinavitch

Jack Abbot

Dennis Whitaker

Trinity Santos

Frank Langdon

Marvel

Peter Parker (college age/comics/aged up/variant)

Sam Wilson

Joaquin Torres

Bob Reynolds

Charles Xavier

Matt Murdock

More depending on the request

Top gun

Platonic! Pete Mitchell

Platonic! Penny Benjamin

Bob Floyd

Bradley Bradshaw

Jake Seresin

DC

Bruce Wayne

Dick Grayson

Jason Todd

Wally West

Clark Kent

Selina Kyle

Pamela Isley

Platonic!Alfred Pennyworth

Barbara Gordon

Jaime Reyes

victor Stone

ER

John Carter

Peter Benton

Susan Lewis

Misc

How to Request in my ask box:

Emoji: This tells me what list you are requesting from

Number: this tells me what line you or title you want me to write on

character or tile: this allows me to properly write you request

example: 💗, 3, Peter Benton

Domestic Prompts 🏠

Old Injury 🩹

Assorted dialogue 🗣️

Prompt lists by @scealaiscoite

Quiet Acts of Love 🤍

Prompt list by @novelbear

Romance, reuse, reduce, recycle 💗 (soon)

Iconic romantic lines from already famous media

Short N’ Sweet 💋(soon)

everything Inspired by Sabrina Carpenter’s Short N’ Sweet

Renee Rapp Inspired👄(soon)

everything inspired from Renee Rapp’s discography

ABBA⭐️ (soon)

Everything inspired by the wonderful ABBA Discography

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The Pitt

Navigation: Smut 💌, Fluff 💕, Angst 💔, Hurt/Comfort ❤️‍🩹, Platonic🫶🏽

Series

The Wedding Season 💌💕💔❤️‍🩹

Dr. Jack Abbot

Dr. John Shen

Dr. Trinity Santos

Dr. Michael Robinavitch

Peach 💕

Dr. Frank Langdon

Dr. Mel King

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The Wedding Season:

Reader X The Pitt Series

Navigation

Smut 💌

Fluff💕

Angst💔

Hurt/comfort❤️‍🩹

Mood Board and preview

Dr. Jack Abbot

Tears and Party Store Tiaras: Jack Abbot x F!Reader

Dr. Michael “Robby”Robinavitch

Trinity Santos

Dennis Whitaker

Run Run Rudolph 💔

Frank Langdon

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Run Run Rudolph

Dennis Whitaker X Black!F!Reader

TW; Racism, prejudice, Use of the Term southern Belle which is a name in reference to the antebellum period (hence the previous warnings)

You stand, hands ringing in a way that is all too unbecoming of a lady your age according to several people groom-side, watching the run of drizzled rain across the Malibu beach. The low jingle of a Christmas tune,surprisingly inappropriate for the mood even while being just a week before the big holiday, serves as a small comfort as the music thrums around lively in contrast to your unseeing but observing eyes.

A southern syrupy tone sits on your tongue, sheltered behind a set of whitened and straitened teeth to stay prim and proper. If you didn’t know any better, you’d worry your words would ooze out of the gaps in the remaining imperfect enamel. Your accent, it’s cute. Never met a southern Belle before.

A black sheep, a southern belle from nowhere important south where the mud coats shoes all the same as horse shit and all the same as any other animal fenced in by working hands, and it’s clearer than ever in a gown worth five times your hometown and a glare set on the rain and the wet sand of the beach outside.

“Okay everyone is getting seated and I think Thomas is getting a little anxious, you ready Bird-“ the words of your flustered mother catch as you turn from the greyscale skyline, the sleek gown that took a terrible amount of money and time swishing around your legs. A design you had been more or less forced into.

trust us Belle, it’s modern. None of that flashy stuff

“Oh baby, you look beautiful” you both tear up for reasons unsaid but not all that different no matter what you believe. The warmth of her palm meets the normally appled part of your cheek when it fails to find any sign of the messy crown of hair you typically sport, now gelled with a scent that makes you fight off sneezes and a band pulling your hairline back with a dull throb.

The moment, a forced milestone that sinks deep into the ocean of false happiness today is becoming like the year before it, is quickly ruined as a flurry of women rush the room looking just as prim and proper as you do.

Several of Thomas’s family dressed up as bridesmaids in a god awful line of silver dresses Trust us Belle, its sleek. that accentuate boney hips and a family line of designer diets and trophy wives while fitting the winter wedding.

Your mother is pushed to the side quickly as the mother-in-law to be makes her way to you and the gaggle of loud and gossiping women make a path for her, the woman spares your mother no glance as she reaches for your face. A hum leaves her as she studies your face “Henrietta…” I’m not calling you Birdie, you’re not six and you are no bird

“you Make a beautiful bride” Her crimson coated lips smirk as she glances at your mother for a moment before gliding away, leaving an intimidating air and a sight of the back of her inappropriate cocktail dress. Your mother forces a smile you barely get to see before the mass of women crowd you with big motions and marriage advice that goes in one ear and out the other.

The choice of an indoor ceremony is last minute and a huge stressor for your in-laws, if the screaming of your mother in law and wedding planner are anything to go by, a decision made by the sky in a way that feels like something close to serendipity. If you were any closer to god like your nana tried so hard to instill in you all your life, you would claim that even the heavens themselves protest this union.

Some greater power interfering in a way that finally takes choice away from the people who practically stole the motions of wedding planning from you, feels like a karmic sign from the universe. It is a pity you still end up stood across from Thomas, gowned up within an itchy and easily heated material that is supposed to hammer in the winter wedding.

Fluorescent lights beat down on your face in a way that would have you sweltering if it weren’t for the layers of makeup and products you’d never even heard of prior to meeting you groom.

“…Etta? Belle?”

Right. Stereotypical and closed vows at the insistence of your dear groom, a bumbling man desperate to earn favor with his parents as the only male of their children. Thomas stands bright and tall, smiling with the type of self assurance that comes practiced with a pre-shined silver spoon and a generational career as a private medical practitioner.

“Oh… um..” You bat your eyes for a moment, a well practiced misdirect for him to latch on to while you zone back into the dull zone of your life to be more than your usual doll status, and the officiant starts up again with the clearing of his throat as you turn a glance to Thomas’ ring, a family heirloom you had not been permitted to breathe near till now, and your maid of honor, his Barbie resembling sister.

“Do you take Thomas Jonathan Reeves to be your lawfully wedded Husband, to live together in matrimony, to love him, comfort him, honor and keep him, in sickness and in health, in sorrow and in joy, to have and to hold, from this day forward, as long as you both shall live?” the words feels weighted, less of an anchor in a sea of worry and more like a bundle of bricks tied to your ankles.

You bite at the inside of your cheek as you hold onto his hands, the silence is intense and most likely amplified from being the second silence in the last five minutes. Your eyes dart from his form to your audience before meeting the scarily light eyes of the man before you as you drop his hands slowly, flinching away when he tries to grab on again with an angry and stiff smile that affirms you as you lift them hem of your gown up and make your getaway.

The running doesn’t stop for hours, not until you are sat in the uncomfortable and stuffy airplane seat with a last minute black airport brand rain coat and matching pair of bright red rain boots that hide under the floor length hem of your wedding gown. Your phone, now on airplane mode, is full of a variety of messages from several involved parties. They range from threats that make you squirm and reassuring, loving, words that make you squirm harder and turn away from the mess altogether.

Your small reprieve is interrupted by a muffled voice that has you taking out an earbud as you find the bright eyes of a brunette woman who stands in the aisle with her arms crossed for a minute, scanning your attire before plopping down into the aisle seat with a huff “I’d complain that you stole my seat but I think you need it more than I do right now”

Her words awaken something as a laugh bubbles out of you, relief and fear coming together as you think to the journey ahead of you. No one to help you other than your sister awaiting more details about the wedding sh refused to attend, a simple screenshot of your flight information being all she has to go by for the next four hours.

“Yeah” you sober up with a simple smile as you glance out the window of the now taxiing airplane, flight attendants failing to capture your attention from the woman beside you “its been quite a day”

Note: yes, this is a Dennis Whitaker X reader but I was vibing and the airport meet cute didn’t jive with me. I also love the idea of Trinity being bestie.

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Tears and Party Store Tiaras

Jack Abbot X F!Reader

It starts fast, sloppy with no real intention of meeting someone to build much of anything with.

Which, for an emergency department, is probably for the best.

In another story the blood on his face that took entirely too long to wash off, gifted oh so kindly to his person from a menopausal woman with a rather unfortunate pulmonary embolism, would be compared to that of a soldier fighting an endless battle.

In another story the wound on your foot, the result of a rather quick and intoxicated decision egged on by several other bachelorette party attendees, would be seen as a damsel in distress waiting on her savior to come cure all her ailments and rescue her from the woes of her predicament.

However, the story of Jack Abbot and you is both more and less than either of those stories.

Too grounded in a world plausible to the horrors and multitudes of societal tension that keep his emergency department running long through dusk and dawn.

Too saturated in the type of situational irony that producers and publishers pay you to bring to life on pages and through mounted microphones that create a wall of tripping hazards between you and the lucky guest of the week.

You enter through the ambulance bay on a gurney, a giggling and sloppy bride in white and a broken plastic tiara stumbles through on your left being led by an exhausted paramedic trying desperately to get her drunken state situated and hydrated. she is followed by a slightly hobbling brunette with a pinched expression winding even tighter with each sob that sounds from the bride to be on the other side of your gurney.

A woeful and apologetically tearful redhead rounds out the group in a way that already has Shen huffing under his breath in amusement as he watches the greying attending, now blood-free but thoroughly fighting to not scowl at those he passes, travel the familiar route to the exam room.

Wedding season is not for the faint of heart, and certainly not for the crowd of women who have been otherwise sober for years, but it all comes down to the people with healthy boundaries that allow them to reject being on a bridal party and those without said boundaries. Also known as You.

And now, four bars and one fallen table later, you sit on a gurney in the flurry of the chaotic four woman bridal party. Through it all you play mediator between the group, even as cousin Trisha’s sobs get louder and your sister, Jane, continues to lecture no one in particular while cousin Megan now reaches for the shiny missing part of her tiara from your barefoot in drunken awe.

The world doesn’t stop when Jack Abbot makes his way into exam three. The pain in your foot persists, the irritation under his skin pulses. The collective obnoxious space your wacky family makes up is shut from he rest of the emergency department as he shuts the door with a small kick to the door stop. “Hello, I’m Dr. abbot. I heard we had a bit of an incident at O’Malley’s, I’m assuming you lost the fight with the crown?”

“Actually, it’s a tiara” Trisha is quick to cut into the conversation, her correction severely unappreciated as Jane tugs her down into a seat. After that, not one of your disastrous party companions gives him another look past Jane, being the sober friend for the first and last time tonight, who listens on as Jack examines your foot.

“Dizzy, please let the nice doctor look at your foot” Jane’s words capture your attention even less than Jack’s prodding, his fingers prodding around the area with a lack of reaction that worries him all the way through narrating his move to remove the hunk of sharp decorative plastic from your heel

“So, Dizzy, how did you earn-“ his eyes follow the next moment with a sigh as you knockout on the bed after one firm tug dislodges the tiara and all three other woman keep you from hitting the floor.

“Right.”

By the time you come back around, the minutes that have passed make a clear difference as a light shines in your face in a way that is all too overstimulating when accompanied with the emotional sputtering of your drunken friends.

Jack is careful with his assessment, thorough and well practiced in a way that not even you can break from the smell of too many cheap shots fanned from your breath or the hazy and slow blink of your eyes as you struggle to get a word into the room. Your own focus finds his hair with an inebriated fascination that cuts short at Jane’s voice.

“So, is our little Dizz gonna fight to fall off a bar top table another day? Or should I trash the video out of respect for the dead?” the woman’s words come out callous but the way she leans into your orbit as she comes closer to the bed and the identical frame of your eyes and nose on her face tells him exactly why she is listed as your desired emergency contact.

“Yeah, embarrassment is more likely to get to her before the gash here” Jack straightens his posture as he sees his words pale your face. Discarding his gloves for a new set as he pulls a tray closer, focusing some lights on the aforementioned foot “lets see what we can do to get you guys on your way”

Jack’s words do nothing to quell the two other members of the party as they start back up into a mess of boozed sobs, the bride being the most difficult as she has now decided to get closer to you. “Oh my god, Dizz. Please don’t lose your foot, you still need to walk with Jackson at the wedding and that would be so messed up”

Her words slur and slip as she attempts to scold you, being tugged back quickly by Jane before a word can finally slip from your lips, something Jack is just now starting to register, and their collective noise piled on to a shift that is only half way done by now makes short work of his focus.

Jack gives the group another gracious minute or so as he prods around before seriously looking up from your elevated foot just as Trisha has listed the fourth reason your injury is selfish. He looks to the group before meeting Jane’s eyes. “Alright I’m gonna ask that you three wait out in the waiting room while I stitch up your friend’s foot”

the sober of the three crouches in your face gently when her stare does nothing to waver Jack’s firm suggestion, a sigh leaving her lips before she looks in your eyes.

“Hey Honey, I am gonna take these two out to freshen up and call Mason to come get his sisters. Stay with the doctor and I’ll be back soon” Jane is quick to collect the others, giving a quick kiss to your forehead before she leaves you in silence with the doctor a he works on your foot.

His words land after your third flinch at the feeling of his hands holding your foot. “Ticklish?”

The lack of response after a few minutes has him holding his tongue only for a moment as he stitches the gash on your heal together again before meeting your eyes. “So did the bridal party take your tongue when I wasn’t looking or are you usually this quiet?”

His attempt at a joke knocks a laugh loose, the sound bouncing off the walls in a shriek that could be from many things that make the whole moment hysterical. Either way, Jack takes the win as he resumes his work for another minute before your voice rasps out quietly.

“Depends, the hospital know you have a side gig in comedy or is the standup portion more of a four am type of deal?”

Note: wow, I got real sidetracked for a second. We love a quiet queen, I’m gonna run with it and see how long that lasts but yay! also, contemplating wedding tropes and why is my mind saying Dennis Whitaker x Runaway Bride!F!Reader and Trinity Santos x F!Reader in an arranged marriage to a man?

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The Wedding Season Series: The Pitt Series

So, the brain rot and personal anti-AI policy finally got me!

I am in fact writing a series, and a wedding series to boot! The goal is to just write, even if I have to explain the whole timeline or let yall guess. I do not believe marriage is something all these characters would want in their future and so I will say, Not every story will end in being married but they will feature a wedding!

I will be writing for all the characters I will have listed in the series masterlist, though I am open to suggestions in my asks.

Each reader will have a nickname they go by in place of a name and I want to widen my way of writing so they will definitely have significant differences from each other paring.

For now, enjoy a little sneak peek from Tears and Party Store Tiaras: Jack Abbot X F!Reader and a mood board

Please share your thoughts!

Sneak Peek

Mood Board

Yay. You made it to the board!