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Doing this cool thing where instead of writing I pop a ZzzQuil and go to bed at 9 o’clock 👍
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Everytime I see a cop dog I get sad. That dog should be at the club.
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Scranton, Pennsylvania, USA
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Yellow 💛 helping them sleep for WolfNichols 💛
I hope you like it!
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Bach is blasting somewhere downstairs.
A year ago, Josh wasn’t able to tell his Bach from his Brahms from his Beethoven; now, he can tell without even having to think about it. And—okay. Maybe he still pretends to confuse it sometimes, but that’s just because he likes watching Oliver’s face wrinkle in distaste.
The composer doesn’t matter, though; what matters is that it’s been two hours since Oliver said he’d be up in five minutes.
Admittedly, his tone had been absent when he said it, attention focused on the fern in front of him – apparently, the only time that Oliver is okay with surgery is when he’s performing it, on his plants – but the point still stands.
Josh has a day off tomorrow. Oliver doesn’t.
He needs to be up in—Josh checks the bedside clock—four and a half hours.
Josh closes the book he’s been picking his way through, one of those crime novels that Carol’s been getting way too into ever since Morris moved out of the house, and sets it down on the bed next to him. For a moment, he lets his hand rest on top of it as he weighs his options.
There’s something darkly reassuring about the small hours of the morning; something that Josh has always liked. Then he joined the navy. Out there, when he was overseas, this quiet part of the night was when they would lie in wait to attack; then, when his days were filled with fighting, it was one of the few intervals. He shared a hundred breathless moments with men whose names he wishes he could forget. And—in the three decades since he came back, Josh has come to appreciate this time even more. Those early days, when he was still readjusting to being Josh Nichols, civilian, and his sleep was haunted by everything he’d seen, he stopped bothering to try going back to bed after the nightmares. Instead, he’d sit out on his parents porch, dog tags an impossible weight around his neck, and wait for the sun to come up.
It’s not a happy time. But it’s consistent in it’s quiet and it’s stillness. And Josh has always appreciated consistency.
It would be so easy to just stay up here, in their bedroom. Let Oliver listen to his music, and tend to his plants, and forget that tomorrow exists for a little while long, all so that Josh can sit up here and just…pass the time.
Filtering up through the floorboards, the music is a reminder of where he is; of who he’s here with. It makes something affectionate fill his chest.
Oliver will regret it in the morning, though.
And Josh—
Well, Josh doesn’t like to see Oliver regret things.
With a groan that belies his old, aching bones, Josh rolls out of bed and goes to tell his boyfriend to come to bed.
What can he say? He's in love.
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Lets sneef with mama
#there's a zoo that I follow on insta where one of these was just born and I've been watching her grow#and she's so sweet#tapir
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MURDERBOT 1.10 "The Perimeter"
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jon stewart (L) and jimmy kimmel (R) for context
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He needs a list. So: Things he knows right now.
One. He's attracted to Henry.
Two. He wants to kiss Henry again.
Three. He has maybe wanted to kiss Henry for a while. As in, probably this whole time.
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#I’m not showing up again#I’m blocking my bosses number#I’m giving my 2 work friends some money so they can quit too#everyone else can suffer
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HEATHER BURNS as CHERYL FRAISER ↳ Miss Congeniality (2000)
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oooh 💙 backing them up in an altercation- wolf/nichols please.
@ericka-kinney also asked for this prompt 💙
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Josh stands in front of the wall of energy drinks at the bodega around the corner from the hospital and tries to decide if it’s worth it to journey all the way down to 92nd Street to use the gym for forty five minutes–tops–or if it’s better to just go home.
Long hours on his feet performing surgery either leave him feeling wiped out or keyed up and tonight it’s the latter.
He doesn’t feel like sleeping, but he also doesn’t feel like fighting Friday night traffic to get into Manhattan.
There are other options. A long list of numbers in his phone that would connect him to men who would fight the traffic for him, that would bring him wine or dinner or whatever else he asked for.
The thought doesn’t thrill him tonight and he’s afraid he’ll have no choice but to let the restless energy linger.
He grabs a Celcius out of the cooler and resigns himself to the idea of using the treadmill at the shared gym in his building until his legs feel like jelly and makes his way up to the counter to pay, pausing to grab a pack of peppermint Orbit gum and a fun-size bag of Snickers to keep in his desk drawer before he comes to a dead stop.
At the end of the aisle, in front of a display of Cool Ranch Doritos, Dr. Wolf looks to be on the losing end of an argument with a man in an expensive looking suit.
Josh knows he should leave it, like everyone else in the bodega is doing. The world is running so hot lately, and this kind of altercation is common. Usually they burn themselves out but Josh has seen first hand how a petty dispute over a parking spot or the price of a newspaper can turn deadly.
There’s no indication that that’s how this situation will go. He has no idea who this guy is to Wolf. An old friend or a jilted lover. He’s around their age, good looking but not what Josh imagined Wolf’s type to be. Not that he’s given it much thought. Not really.
Maybe Wolf doesn’t even recognize the guy and he’s just as lost as Josh is.
Josh knows that he should turn around and take another aisle up to the register. Pretend he never saw this and leave Wolf to fend for himself. It’s how he likes to be treated at the hospital–why should this bodega be any different?
Josh is just about to turn away when the guy pokes his finger into Wolf’s chest while Wolf takes a half step back and Josh feels a twinge of sympathy.
“Dr. Wolf,” he calls as he takes a step forward. “Everything okay?”
It gets the attention of both men—Dr. Wolf tipping his head to the side looking for a hint of recognition while the other man drops his hand down to his side and steps back.
“All good?”
“Dr. Nichols,” Wolf says, like he’s just figured it out and Josh tries not to roll his eyes. He understands Wolf’s prosopagnosia, but they’ve been working together for nearly a month now, something should have stuck. “We’re fine. I was just talking to Mr. Ashford—Kevin,” he adds quickly. “He is the son of a patient of mine when I was at Lenox Hill.”
“Six months my mother was in and out of that hospital and he didn’t even try to help her.”
“That’s not true,” Wolf tells him, “I did everything I possibly could—.”
Kevin interrupts with a scoff. “Like you even remember her. I was there everyday to see her and you didn’t even know who I was until I told you.”
“I remember your mother,” Wolf says. “I remember that she had a charm bracelet that she wore on her left wrist. She had at least a dozen charms on it–all fruits. Lemons, strawberries, cherries. Every time we moved her anywhere it would jingle. I helped her take it off before each MRI and then I helped her put it on again afterward. I remember that she only liked the butterscotch pudding from the hospital cafeteria which was impossible to find unless you got there first thing in the morning which I always did because I wanted to make sure she was as comfortable as possible. I remember your mother,” he says, “and I want to assure you that I did everything that I could to help her.”
“But you couldn’t save her,” Kevin snaps and Josh puts his hand on Wolf’s shoulder before he can reply.
“I don’t know your mother,” Josh tells him, “and I don’t know Dr. Wolf that well either, but in the few weeks that we’ve been working together it’s been obvious to me that he will do anything for his patients. I’ve really never seen anything like it. It’s as admirable as it is annoying at times.”
Wolf rolls his eyes. “I’m sorry that I couldn’t have done more for your mother,” he says. “I know how it feels to lose someone that’s so important to you. I know how angry you must be.”
Kevin looks away as his eyes begin to water and the grip he has on his shopping basket tightens.
“I’m sorry,” Wolf says again and Kevin sniffs.
“Doesn’t matter. Nothing really matters.” He pushes past them and Wolf heaves a sigh while Josh realizes he’s still holding his shoulder.
“Thanks,” Wolf says as Josh slowly lets him go.
“I didn’t really do anything.”
“You did enough.”
Wolf smiles, tentatively, and Josh smiles back, maybe the second one they’ve shared since they met.
“Looks like you’re gearing up for a wild night,” Josh says as he nods to the crossword puzzle and word search books in Wolf hand.
“It’s for a patient,” Wolf says as he holds up the books. “He says that completing small, but specific tasks help to reduce his anxiety, and the hospital gift shop is closed so…”
“Of course they’re for a patient. You know, you’re making the rest of us look bad.”
“Then maybe you should step up your game, Dr. Nichols,” Wolf says as they share another smile.
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Look at Pittbett, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, United States of America
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*This poll was submitted to us and we simply posted it so people could vote and discuss their opinions on the matter. If you’d like for us to ask the internet a question for you, feel free to drop the poll of your choice in our inbox and we’ll post them anonymously (for more info, please check our pinned post).
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I gave a victorian kid some sour patch kids and he sprinkled a little bit of cocaine on it as casually as you would salt before even taking a bite
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me (an angel): and this is the inner thigh, engineered to be the most biteable part of the entire design
god (just fumbled a tgirl, angry at world): put the femoral artery in it
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