#the clinic fanfic

[super-unpredictable98]

Comes in Waves (The Clinic AU)

Pairing: Shane x Reader

Word Count: 990

Warning: Strong language, needles

a/n: NEW CHARACTER ALERT! It took me a while to bring you guys someone new, but here he is. Keeping my promise to write for all of Rob's characters at least once, here's Shane who stole our hearts in only a little over 6 minutes.

(Masterlist)

"Hey, do you have zinc left?" A voice behind you called.

"Yeah, pick a colour," you chuckled, pointing at your backpack while you carefully waxed your board.

Shane wasn't a stranger, but he also wasn't exactly your friend. He was more like an acquaintance, you bumped into each other sometimes at the Aileens and maybe talked for a minute or two, but so far that was it.

He was a nice guy, weirdly strong for how skinny he looked, and although his hair was definitely influenced by 2000s emo boy bands, he wasn't bad looking. In fact, you caught yourself looking forward to seeing him at times, not that you ever said anything.

"Oh shit…" Shane muttered, seeing the time on your phone when he tried to find the zinc.

"Everything okay?" You asked, suddenly worried he saw something you didn't even know you had in your bag. Your mind went through the endless possibilities from used condoms to dead rat, from bloody pads to human remains, maybe drugs or a copy of Fifty Shades of Grey.

"I forgot to take my insulin," he sighed, grabbing his own backpack to check if he even brought it.

"You're diabetic?" You mused. You felt stupid for not knowing, but it's not like the subject would've come up in conversation between you two.

"Mmhm," he nodded, taking the pen injector out and smiling. "Oh thank God I don't have to go all the way back home."

Although he seemed relieved to have found the medication, his face also clearly let his worry show. Even after a couple years of his diagnosis, Shane still wasn't so good at injecting himself and he was still quite scared of needles, which left him embarrassed whenever he had to do it in public.

He scrunched up his nose and looked at the applicator as if considering if that was a good idea or if he should just go home and ask for his mother's help again. On a good day, it took him about fifteen minutes just to get the nerve to do it, but he was already past his time and truly didn't wanna seem like a wimp in front of you.

"What is it?" You finally asked.

"Um… nothing."

"Are you scared?"

"I'm just not a fan of needles, that's all," Shane chuckled nervously, trying to sound as chill as possible.

You wanted to smile, it was adorable the way his voice faltered a little and how he tried to seem so nonchalant about the whole thing when he was clearly shaking like a leaf.

"You know, my little sister is diabetic, I've done this for her a few times, do you want me to try?" You offered without even thinking first. You were not that intimate, but somehow you just couldn't watch him struggle and do nothing about it.

"Really? Would you?" His face lit up.

"Yeah, no problem," you assured.

When he turned around for you to unzip his suit though, then you realized what you were doing and all the blood rushed to your face. You reached for the zipper and slowly pulled it down, exposing his back and his (quite nice) shoulders.

He pulled the suit off and you were able to see the lean muscles on his arms, the discreet treasure trail that started on his navel, and the adorable mole he had near his collarbone.

"Everything alright?" He asked this time noticing how you were paralyzed just staring.

"S-sure, sorry, I was just trying to remember if I locked the door when I left," you spewed the first bullshit excuse that popped into your head. "Can I do it?"

"Please," he set the right dosage and handed you the injector along with the little disinfectant tissue to clean the area before.

"Alright, look at me, don't focus on that," you instructed as you carefully wiped a spot on the side of his stomach. "When did you start surfing, Shane?"

"Well, I-" he flinched when he felt the needle approaching his skin, pulling away from you and almost making you laugh. "Sorry, I'll stay still."

"It's okay, just focus on the story," you encouraged, moving as fast as you could while still trying to do things swiftly enough for him not to notice.

"I started when I was ten, I saw Green Iguana and really wanted to do it myself," Shane started, not even realizing as you punctured his skin and pressed the top. "I didn't have lessons or anything, I just borrowed my mate's board and watched lots of videos for beginners, he helped me a little too…"

"All done," you put the cover back on the pen and gave it back to him. "But I'd love to hear more about how you started."

"Jesus, you really are good at that!" He gasped, looking down at his stomach in awe. "How did you do it so fast?"

"A magician never reveals their tricks," you teased. "Besides, if I tell you, you'll never ask me to do it again."

"Do it again?" Shane repeated, a little puzzled by the suggestion.

"Come on, the waves are looking great right now," you took your board before he could think more about the implications of what you just said.

"Wait! Wait, you really don't mind doing this for me?" Shane asked, taking his board as well and following you to the ocean.

You shook your head, involuntarily letting your eyes linger a little too long on his naked chest, which certainly made you blush once again.

"How about I thank you?" He finally seemed to understand why you were so flustered every time you two met and he had to admit he also felt that way. "We can grab something to eat on the way back, my treat."

"I'll think about it," you smirked before taking off and jumping in the water. "But you'll have to catch me first!"

Tag List: @elliethesuperfruitlover @salvador-daley @seanfalco @firstpersonnarrator

[3-aem]

thinking about touch starved touch sensitive gojo again. Absolutely desperate for even the most grazing touches from getou and yet overwhelmed by it all.

[mkunart]

✨Commission! ✨

Harvey and farmer August 🌿

[cherri-ying]

Sing for me, little Nightingale (Yan! Scaramouche x Reader)

Ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56024689

Felines are deserving of their accolades. Merit embodies their nimble spines and ductile limbs; bodies like pliable sand, threading their way through knots, twists, cavities and labyrinths. The prince of the hunt flexes and swipes his talons and his victims are swift to falter, their necks wringed and their spines contorted in ways that are unnatural to their physicality.

“I’ve got you now.”

At times, though, even a cat doesn't remain undefeated.

“How stupid are you to think that a cheap disguise would work against me?” He almost sounds amused, his words an arctic hiss against your ear. Reaching up, Scaramouche claws at the thick cloak that veils your face and tears it to your shoulders. Your hair is quick to mime the departed elements, hanging in disarray across your face. A mantilla of unkempt tresses, veiling whatever thoughts sketch your visage.

The Balladeer regards the sight of your person with a sort of contemptuous delight. Forcefully knelt at his feet with your wrists bound behind you and your head drooped in defeat—or in pensiveness. It's a shame Zapolyarny is so devoid of windows. What light finds it's way into these all-too familiar stone chambers is too sparse to see what expression you're making.

“Well? Say something. Or have I rendered you incapable of speech?”

Tentatively—begrudgingly—you tip your head back, back, back until your irises lock with the hypnotic indigo tinctures belonging to the puppet who leers dauntingly above you. Locks of such a hue that only you could wear part like the red sea, revealing a thin, perhaps solemn, ambiguous smile—the last expression the harbinger could anticipate. Or desire.

“Thwarted again, hm?” You chuckle and it sounds like frost, “and I even took extensive measures to conceal my tracks. No good?”

“Failures are bound to repeat themselves.” Scaramouche doesn't nuisance himself with that syrupy facade he wears to rope his targets right between his molars. Malice is a noisome stench in the air as he adds, “This is the seventh time I’ve had to retrieve you. I'd figure you’d have learned your lesson by now, but time after time you insist on making yourself a burden to fetch.”

“There's no harm in trying, is there?” You maintain that strange curve on your plush lips. It’s difficult to tell what you're thinking, or feeling.

“‘No harm’, yet you delude yourself into believing that a time would come when you could successfully evade me. I wonder how long it’ll take until those dreams of yours crumble and die.”

“You know, there’s a word for what you are,” you state after a thoughtful pause. “I think it’s called: overbearing.”

What a strange person, with a strange smile. Normally, Scaramouche would meet such defiance by smiting his poor victim to dust within the blink of an eye. In your displays of resolve, though, the invincible harbinger finds himself crouching to your level, trailing a slender hand against your windpipe. How easily he could squeeze the life from your throat until you begs for reprieve; choke you of your indignation. Instead, he allows it to linger there without purpose, applying no pressure, grasping nothing.

“And there’s a word for what you are.” He nearly whispers. Difficult. Stubborn. Irrevocably his. “Irrational, when I only want what’s best for you. And what’s best for you, is to offer me your complete submission.”

“Even though I’d sooner offer my life than yield to you?” A new tone makes itself heard in your cadence. Such words, such simple, few words, reveal what lingers beneath your otherwise indifferent facade.

Sagacious. Provocative. Challenging.

Of course, you're testing the boundaries of Scaramouche's resolve, as he does with yours. Suddenly, the atmosphere is taut and palpable with tension for what may become of the future.

Sly, sly little songbird.

Something most unanticipated happens, and you reveal your hands, which you freed from their binds. Maybe it shouldn’t surprise Scaramouche, what with your prowess in the art of escape, but regardless your smile stretches in the presence of the astonishment that lifts his eyebrows and makes his eyes flash white, if only briefly. You take your time observing such a paltry display of rare, raw, emotion, how it shapes the contours of his features at the command of your actions. And gently, you take his hand that graces your throat and tenderly place it on your cheek.

"Ah... You've always been this way, haven't you, Kunikuzushi? Since the very day fate first connected your eyes to mine? " You slant your head into his cold hand with all the fragility of a shedding lotus petal descending into a reservoir, resting your cheek against his cold, liquid touch. Although, the action is far from affectionate. Rather, it's reminiscent of a sort of obstinacy, wearing the facade of love.

"You pine for my heart like you're starved for my flesh.” You take his hand and pass it through your cloak, poising it on your chest, right above your pumping heart.

"But... Perhaps I have no heart to offer you. What then? What will you do when you realize, there is no flesh to pick from my bones? No heart beneath my ribs?"

Scaramouche trudges through your words, running them across his mind. No plausible answer makes itself seen. He relinquishes his hand from your chest.

A cat may not have wings, but it is unrelenting.

“If you have no heart…” He murmurs, before smiling a bitter smile, “Then I’ll make you learn how to love.” how to love him. “I’ll create a heart in the shape of my love, and then I’ll take it. By force if I must.”

"You're willing to create something, just to seize and destroy it..." His words taste like blood upon your tongue. Strange. Carrying pleasantry and uncanniness in a sordid congruence. your lips falter from their smile.

"What a rotten soul you have... When will you realize that your avarice will be your demise?"

A wry, perhaps relenting chuckle emerges from your throat. Then you sigh.

"Perhaps we were made for each other." “

Then why do you run from me? Why do you fight, when you’re meant to be mine?” He asks, vehement, pertinacious.

"But that is where you're mistaken, Scaramouche. You see—” You direct your pointer finger to his chest, resting it in the junction between his collarbones.

“—You're tenacious in pursuing me. But I'm," You points at herself, "Tenacious in avoiding you. We are made for each other like the same ends of two magnets. The same, yet destined to be apart."

There it is, another one of your challenging remarks. The chirping nightingale wriggles free and unfurls it's wings, just as the cat thinks the bird is trapped beneath its paws. And oh, how infuriating, how exhilarating you are. Hatred is a simmering tempest that ignites the harbinger's temper. He despises how affixed he is to you, to the thought of trapping you beneath his claws, only for you to fly free and rejoice your liberation in song. It's petty. It's pathetic. It's irresistible. The Balladeer scoffs.

“Is this all just a game of push and pull to you? Just how long are you willing to avoid me?”

 “How long are you willing to pursue me?”

“Until you submit to me.”

“Then, until you set me free.”

Scaramouche can only watch as you put on your hideous, inhuman, anomalistic smile. Fine, then. If nothing else, he’ll build you a gilded cage to lure you into a golden prison disguised as a paradise. He’ll rip your wings from your body, flesh and bone marrow hanging in loose tendrils, so to erase all notions of flying free from your unreadable mind that he tends to make his possession, until you’re bleeding so sweetly beneath his claws. His beautiful songbird, who sings in the shape of his love.

Because you were made for him. He, the heartless one, who wishes for a heart. For your heart, which you are't willing to offer. Which you wish you never had.

You’re the only one who believes he still has a soul; that he ever had one, rotten as it may be.

Scaramouche cannot let that go. Regardless of how many times you flee from his talons, he will find you and chase you to the very ends of this earth.

Fly away, little singing nightingale.

[number1yisuchongfan]

“What?”

This is based off a moment in my Incubus Scout fic on ao3 (x)

[skibasyndrome]

after lake smut I shall provide hallway smut 🫡 I will just throw promo-based fics at the wall and see what sticks until the season finally airs

[haveyoureadthisfanfic]

Summary: How Tommy—who is not a hero, or a villain, or even a vigilante—saves the life of one of L'Manberg's most feared supervillains, and accidentally ends up becoming the resident doctor for every supervillain in town (and maybe gets a family along the way too).

Author: @bonesandthebees

[bizarrelittlemew]

Abstract: We present five cases of penetrative stab wounds of the abdomen (all involving the same two patients) and the care and interventions that led to successful recovery (and reconciliation). To cite this paper: Roach & Spriggs, L. (1717). A Series of Cases of Penetrating Stab Wounds of the Abdomen. Republic of Pirates Medical Journal, 1(1), 29-31.

read here

in which Roach co-invents peer-reviewed scientific literature

(can fix-it fics be written in the format of scientific journal articles? I have decided that yes, yes they can)

[qqquib]

IN HONOR OF HEATWAVES BEING REMOVED FROM AO3

i’m only counting fics i’ve personally read bc im silly 🤭

[youwereeverything]

TommyInnits Clinic for Supervillains (TCFSV)

Thank you to the person in the replies for pointing out my very obvious spelling error I made spelling Techno. I would like to explain that I have dyslexia which makes it hard for me to write, seriously you should see me typing and writing essays, so many mistakes. So yes, it says Techo and I’m not bothered by that or sharing it.

[poraphia]

enemies to lovers with clinicbur is top tier but i will leave you with the following thought

Wilbur’s s/o goes missing and is presumed dead at the beginning of his villain career (before he met tommy). He grieves, is very very sad.

Years later, after the events of TCSFV, a new vigilante pops up. For reasons he can’t understand, they seem to be very concerned when he almost dies in a fight with some heroes, pulling him to the side to and gently patching him up, making sure he’s okay before scurrying away.

I’d say more of my ideas but my stomach is killing me a

HERE ME OUT HERE ME OUT

---

"HAS ANYONE SEEN SIREN?!" Zephyrus called out to the others. His wings frantically swayed in the wind as he scanned the rooftop, but to no avail, the blindfolded villain was nowhere to be found.

"SIREN!" he called out again, but before he could examine his surroundings one more time, 404 throws his daggers at great speeds, nearly slicing through his feeathers.

But there the villain laid, near limp as he hid behind the doors of the fire escape, clutching at his sliced-open thigh. One moment, he was out on the battlefield, fighting Rewind, the next moment, he felt arms wrapped around his chest as he was dragged where no villain or hero could spot him.

The figure before him stared down at him anxiously, feeling around their pockets before digging into their bag to see if they could assist in any way possible. Eventually, they settled on an old t-shirt, ripping into two. They took a water bottle, carefully dousing the wound and wiping away the excess blood, then used the other half of the shirt to tightly wrap around the wound.

Siren hissed in pain as he watched the slender fingers work their magic. He looked to face the figure, and through the haze, he could only distinguish a familiar mask he's seen on TV every so often.

A vigilante.

After making sure the fabric was secured, the figure looked up to face him now. Something felt so... Familiar about the gaze. Something soft, something so homely.

Siren didn't realize his hand started to trail closer to their face. Slight disappointment tingled inside of him when he realized he was only met with the solid material of their mask instead of warm skin. The vigilante only returned the gesture by placing a hand on top.

"Wil--"

But before they could continue, footsteps were coming closer to the doors, immediately making both of the two whip their head around. By the time Siren turned back though, they were gone. Apollo burst through the doors shortly after, immediately crouching down to tend to his wound.

"Are you okay?! Holy shit, you took a nasty blow back there! Please don't tell me it hit a bone-- Did you try to patch it up yourself?!" Apollo's lecturing went through one ear and out the other. Not even the pain he was feeling could distract his mind from what just happened. And most importantly,

How did they know his name?

---

BUT THATS JUST A THEORYYY AAAHH I WROTE THIS AS SOON AS I SAW IT LMAO AND I JUST GOT HOME (excuse any grammar errors i literally just wrote this on the tumblr post thingy thing)

[recurring-polynya]

hello, congrats on one mil!! you mentioned (very) off handedly in the tags a long time ago that an au where renji was byakuya's sibling would be difficult because renji would want hugs and Kuchiki Do Not Hug. ever since ive been wondering: what exactly would it take for byakuya to give renji a hug? this is my prompt to you. any and all external influences are permissible but it has to be a real, proper hug. no side hugs allowed. bonus (infinite) points for rukia being somewhere in the mix.

I thought about this for 20 minutes and then just yes, and...'d my way through the rest of this. It was very fun! Hopefully someone else finds this half as funny as I did.

| read on ao3 | request guidelines |

❄️ ☃️ ❄️

"Hitsugaya here."

"Hello, Captain Hitsugaya, it is Captain Kuchiki."

"..."

"I am calling from Lieutenant Abarai's phone."

"Of course you are. What's up?"

"I have a question. What is the standard treatment for hypothermia?"

"...why are you asking?"

"When a person dives into very cold water, say, if they were chasing a semi-aquatic Hollow into a lake and the air temperature is below--"

"Kuchiki, how do you have Abarai's phone if he just jumped into a lake after a semi-aquatic Hollow?"

"Because he threw it at me and yelled 'call Rukia and ask her how to treat hypothermia, I'm sure she knows.'"

"But you didn't call Rukia."

"I did not. I would prefer if she did not find out that I let Abarai jump into a frozen lake. I did not mean to. He is very quick and also a bad listener. Hmm. The water is turning very red. Hollows do not usually have red blood. It would probably be a bad idea to jump in after him, don't you think? Then, we would both have hypothermia."

"Where are the two of you?"

"The thirty-first district of North Rukongai."

"Okay, that's too far away. (yes, it's your brother. no, everything is not fine. no, i think it's better if you let me talk to him.)"

"Is my sister there?"

"Yes, your sister is here."

"What are you doing with my sister, Hitsugaya Toushirou? She already has an official, family-approved suitor!"

"Does she, Kuchiki? Or does she have an official, family-approved popsicle? (no! no, stop grabbing! Matsumoto, some help please!)"

"Forget what I said earlier, he is coming out of the lake now. (Abarai! What is the limb situation? Ah, excellent, well done!) He even has all of his limbs. He does look rather pale and is shaking a lot, so perhaps we should get back to the hypothermia question."

"To be honest, I don't know that much about it. Usually I'm trying to freeze people to death. I only know what they teach in the decadal first aid refresher. Maybe you shouldn't have done that sleeping-with-your-eyes-open thing the last time we had--"

"Captain Hitsugaya, perhaps we could save the recriminations for later. Abarai is dying."

"Fine. I'm giving the phone to Rukia, who is here to work on her bankai, the same as every Tuesday afternoon. Kuchiki, tell your brother how to fix the hypothermia he gave your boyfriend."

"Brother!"

"Hello, Rukia! I would like to clarify, I did not 'give' Abarai hypothermia. He is very difficult to--"

"Stop talking, I know how he is. I am not holding you responsible. I only heard half the conversation, is he wet?"

"He dove into a lake, so yes."

"Okay, your first priority should be to dry him off."

"(Abarai, Rukia says you need to dry off. Yes, I know I have told you not to do that. Go ahead and do it. Just try not to get me--ugh! I told you not to--!")

"Is he trying to dry off by shaking himself like a dog? Don't let him do that!"

"It is surprisingly effective."

"It could also cause him to go into cardiac arrest so please don't let him do that!"

"(Abarai, Rukia says your heart will stop working if you do that. Yes, it sounds fake to me, too. I am just the messenger.)"

"I would hang up on you, except that then Renji would definitely die. Look, is there shelter nearby? Somewhere you can get him inside?"

"No. Can I just pick him up and flash step him back to town?"

"No, that would also cause his heart to stop. (Captain Hitsugaya, can we send a message down to-- oh, you already have? Oh, great, thank you!) Captain Hitsugaya has already called the Fourth. They're sending a medic to you, but it'll probably be at least an hour. In the meantime, you need get him dry and start to warm him up. Do you have any spare clothes?"

"Why would we have spare clothes?"

"I don't know! Sometimes people carry spare capes! They come in handy! Can you give him your haori?"

"Of course not, he hasn't passed the Captains' Examination."

"Okay, well, make him take his wet clothes off, and you figure out which parts of your outfit you can spare. Don't tell me. I don't want to know."

"Oh, I see. Hmm. Wait, Rukia. Before I disrobe, I read a book once, where someone was in a cold climate and they were freezing to death, and they killed a bear--"

"Do not put Renji inside the dead Hollow, Byakuya. I mean it."

"Hollows disintegrate when they die, Rukia, and even if they didn't, he left it at the bottom of the lake. (You did kill it, right? All right, good.) Ahem. I was just thinking that I could find a bear--"

"You do not have time to find and kill a bear, Brother."

"Hmm. Very well. (Abarai, take off your pants. Rukia says so.)"

(various mumbling and other noises)

"All right. I have returned. Abarai is wrapped up in both our cloaks."

"Wait, you had a cloak this whole time?"

"Of course I had a cloak. We went to the mountains of North Rukongai. Of course we dressed appropriately. Abarai even had the presence of mind to remove his before jumping in the lake. (Yes, I know it was so you could swim better. Do you wish to take this phone call?)"

"You could have--you know what? Never mind. Okay, do you have any field rations with you? Getting some warm food or liquid in him would be very helpful. Even if you can just warm some water with kidou and give it to him, that would be good."

"We did not bring any provisions. We were only supposed to come out here for an afternoon and we did not expect to have to leave town. (No, Abarai, I do not think you should drink that lake water. Well, a Hollow died in it, for one thing.)"

"Brother, do me a favor. Go touch his skin and tell me what it feels like."

"His skin?"

"Yes, I want to know if it's cold."

"Does it matter where?"

"Not really, I guess."

"(Abarai, stick your arm out of the cloak. Look, this is very unpleasant for both of us!) I am touching his arm. I would say it is approximately 30C."

"How can you-- never mind. I don't want to know. Is he shivering? Are his teeth chattering?"

"Less so than before, on both counts. That is good, right? That means he is warming up?"

"No, it means his body is shutting down. Is he still talking to you? Is he lucid?"

"He is still talking, a thing that I assume he would keep doing even after all other vital signs have ceased. I will check the state of his reason. (Abarai, who was the captain of Sixth Squadron during the Hellish Dangai Incursion of 892? No, it's not a trick question. All right, it's a little bit of a trick question…That's a really questionable interpretation of events, Abarai. No, I do not think there are any historians that would agree with you.) Rukia, I will be honest. He is not at his best."

"If he's talking and making sense, that's…something at least. But he's not in good shape and you've got to do something to help him warm up until the medic gets there."

"'Sense' is really debatable, Rukia."

"I think you're going to have to do the kaidou, Brother."

"My understanding is that the body temperature stabilization kidou should only be performed in a sheltered location by a trained Squad 4 medic."

"Yeah, that's the clinical one, and you are correct. You need to do the emergency one. It's not as good generally, but it's less tricky. It should help, though! Zabimaru runs hot, so if you can just give them a jumpstart, Renji will probably stabilize by himself."

"(Oh, is that so?) Abarai says you cast this on him 'all the time.' Why didn't you bring this up earlier? And why are you freezing my lieutenant 'all the time'?"

"He likes it. And I assumed you would refuse!"

"Why would I refuse? Which kaidou is it again?"

"Did you really sleep through the decadal first aid refresher? It's number 17!"

"Number 17…that's the one where…oh."

"Can you do it, Brother?"

"..."

"Brother?"

"When you say you do this to him 'all the time', is it because you are truly giving him hypothermia constantly, or is it just a ploy to…you know?"

"..."

"Rukia?"

"Must it be one or the other, Brother?!"

"Well, I was just wondering if the full body contact was truly compulsory, or if maybe I could just…do it from a respectful distance."

"You have to hug him, Brother."

"..."

"It's not so bad, Brother! You nearly cut off an arm and a leg to save me once!"

"...what if I were to sit next to him, so that our sides were touching? I…I could probably even put my arm around him."

"A side-hug is not going to cut it! The whole trick of the thing is getting your saketsu and hakusui close enough to his! You can hug him from behind, if that makes things better."

"I think that might actually be worse, Rukia."

"You're just going to have to hug him normally, then. Renji gives very good hugs! I tell you it won't be so bad! Just do it!"

"I am only doing this for you, Rukia."

"I appreciate it, Brother."

"(All right, Abarai. Brace yourself. As unpleasant as it is, I am going to have to--no, I will not 'bring it in!' Why must you make this worse than it already is?)"

(unintelligible)

"Brother? Brother, are you still there?"

"I am still here. I am doing it. I am hugging him. This is terrible."

"Are you doing the kaidou?"

"...right. The kaidou. I am now doing the kaidou. Ahem."

"Hi, Rukia, can you hear me? He's got the phone kinda close to my face and I can hear you!"

"Renji, is that you?!"

"It's me! He's hugging me, Rukia! This is so weird!"

"We can memory wipe both of you later, probably."

"No, I mean, he's really bad at it! This is the worst hug I have ever gotten!"

"Shut up, Abarai."

"I think you need to relax a little, Captain. Loosen up those arms."

"I do not want pointers, Abarai."

"Well, I'm having--a little trouble--breathing."

"Oh. I see. Yes, sorry."

"Not to interrupt all the fun you two are having, but does it seem to be working?"

"I have no idea. Abarai, is it working?"

"It's pretty different than when you do it, Rukia, but I think it is. Can I have a real hug when I get home?"

"You can have as many hugs as you want when you get home."

"Ahem."

"I am trying to keep him thinking positive, Brother! You can also have as many hugs as you want when you get home! It sounds like you need some practice."

"..."

"Or if you'd rather just have a stiff drink, I'm sure that can also be arranged."

"As you say, Rukia: why not both?"

"Sounds good to me, Brother!"

~end

[thatsquitepoggers]

Dude, ik its been awhile but i just had the best thought ever. Imagine being TCFSV! Quackity's girlfriend, and while he was just wandering around, doing villian shit, you send him a text. What does he see? A picture of you, in a slightly revealing outfit, just walking around aswell. It may not have been much, but it was to Quackity. Next thing you know, your on your knees agenst a cold, hard, brick wall of an allyway. And Quackity is thrusting his cock into your mouth, trying to stay quiet so nobody looks into the dark ally, and calls the cops or somthing. (Dude ik i suck at this stuff i just felt the need to share this enlightment.)

[trishzerothree]

Siren ^^

I decided to draw in Paint again ;)

[hollywoodsargeant]

boyish - chapter 9 24.5k words | 100.2k words total | loscar

The way his insides have been tipped over is familiar, non-overwhelming. He almost feels like it should feel bigger, like more, but— it was just Logan. He knows how to handle Logan. And maybe he likes that things never seem to change between them. It’s a constant; steadfast, a piece of himself he knows he can always fall back on. Just the two of them, a set of steady, parallel lines, stretching infinitely into a future where they remain alongside each other.

hey man. this chapter drove me so off the walls insane that i 1) wrote nearly 25k words in 4 days and 2) WROTE NEARLY 25K WORDS IN 4 DAYS? sorry. a lot happens in this one. i nearly lost my whole entire mind writing it so enjoy <3 it is now Your problem.

side note. be the 100k word fic you want to see in your favorite rarepair tag, they said. it will be fun, they said (i promise i am having fun. it is just also 4 in the morning)

+ if anyone would prefer a link to chapter one :)

[knifknightkorner]

Me: *Trying to do HW*

My brain: But Choso

Me: Fair enough *Writes copious amounts of fanfics to cure my depression*