#path does: prompts

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Could you write more Woody/Herman pls? I hella appreciated the first one you filled. Woody trying to woo an oblivious Herman, angsty or fluff.

<3!!!

There were things he didn’t understand without the helmet but lived in his world of ignorant bliss. He didn’t understand his emotions and what he was feeling. With the helmet, he understood even less. There were words to put to his thoughts and his actions, words he leaned, words he wished he never knew.

He did the research in the late hours of the night. Monitored his heart-rate, read cases, and found a few unhelpful gay movies from the 1980s that he thought would explain everything but instead explained very little. How would he go about this? How should he go about expressing himself beyond words he was taught.

He began with the little things first, doing things he’s always done for him but with more attention to detail. He made his coffee to how he memorized it: one cream and two sugars. He mixed his training laundry with his so his basket would be empty when he would go get it. He made sure he wouldn’t get hurt during training.

Herman was his best friend, his only friend before the helmet. Herman looked after him as an old brother-type figure. He understood much more.

“Herman, I got you your vitamins,” Woody announced as he walked into the common room with a glass of water in one hand and the vitamins in the other. Herman was sitting watching TV with a beer in his hands. He wasn’t allowed to drink anymore. “How did you get that in ‘ere?” he asked.

“Shh,” Herman shushed and called him over. Woody’s heart dropped and quickly walked over to him. Herman put down his bottle next to him to open one for him. It brought back memories of them sitting in the field and laughing about anything and everything. He put the water and pills down and took the bottle. “I sneaked in a stash. Don’t tell Adam.”

“I won’t, I promise,” Woody said. He finally figured out how to open his helmet temporarily and he sucked in a cool breath of air before bringing the bottle to his lips and chugging half of it in one go.

“Brings back good memories,” Herman chuckled as he watched Woody chug it down. Woody pulled the bottle away, feeling the foam rise up to the top. His mind went straight to try to get the foam to stop and his hands were covered in it.

Hearing Herman laugh loudly at his mishap made his heart twist and turn. His helmet was signalizing that his heartbeat was irregular. He ignored it. He just smiled and laughed with him as he wiped the foam onto his pants.

They stayed quiet as they watched TV and sipped at their beers like they weren’t in an army reserve training to go into space. It felt the same but different at the same time. Woody didn’t ask constantly ask questions about what was happening on TV or make dumb comments. He understood the jokes, the references and the inaccuracies in the show.

Once he heard Herman snore, he turned off the TV and put away all the empty bottles. He sighed as he didn’t get Herman to take his vitamins or drink some water. He searched the common room for a blanket of some sort and found a duvet in one of the lockers. He put it over Herman and hid the beer.

He made Herman was okay, checking his vitals. While his blood alcohol levels were a little high, he would be alright in the morning. Woody smiled before leaving the room. He wouldn’t ever wish for more than what they had.

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hey if you feel like it you should totally write Zach/Hagan and like Zach wants to practice making out and who is Hagan to deny a chance to teach the kid something. if you don't like the pairing you can chose anyone that you want

Who am I to deny a prompt like this. :)

Zach pressed his lips to his hands and checked his breath a few times as he fixed his blazer in the mirror. Hagan was sitting in the corner reading the newspaper and couldn’t help but look up at the young adult.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he asked. Zach turned to face him, almost forgetting that he was in the room. It was their only day off in weeks from training and Zach had planned to take Mindy out for a date. Hagan took his fatherly position and supervised Zach so he wouldn’t plan any funny business.

“Y’know, practicing how to kiss,” he shrugged.

“With the back of your hand?” he furrowed his eyebrows as he folded the newspaper and put it on the shelf next to him.

“Well how else am I supposed to practice? A pillow?” Zach replied defensively.

“Someone else?” Hagan suggested.

“Like who? You? Fuck that,” Zach turned away in slight disgust.

“Well, not to brag, but I kissed a lot of girls in high school,” he grinned with pride.

“Bullshit, Herman told me how much of a little shit you were,” he teased, wiping the smile off Hagan’s face.

“I was an attractive little shit,” he boasted. Zach laughed. “I won’t tell anyone.”

“Promise? If the slightest noise comes out of your mouth, I swear to fuck-” Zach stopped mid-swear.

“I won’t tell a soul,” Hagan promised. Zach’s face was blushed as he stepped over to Hagan and pressed his lips against his, feeling his beard scratch his face. Hagan pulled away quickly. “Kiss me like I’m your date.” Zach sighed and kissed him again, not wanting to admit to himself that he was actually enjoying it.

It made him weak when Hagan kissed back, reaching over to put his hands on the edges of the chair to get a deeper kiss. Hagan wanted to hold him but he kept his hands on his thighs, gripping at his sweatpants.

The kid was pretty good. He was learning just by body language. They were running out of breath but it was good practice.

The intercom rang to announce someone was at the door and they pulled quickly apart. Zach’s lips shining with saliva from the lesson.

“My date’s here,” he huffed before he pulled away and wiped his mouth on his sleeve.

“Good luck, kid,” Hagan was able to tell him as he rushed away to the exit.

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Run and cover, hagan catches herman mumbling something in his sleep. "I love you tony?" What does that mean?

(I haven’t forgotten about you, love)

“Herman, you’re snoring again,” Hagan gently shook his arm. He heard him from his own room and it was keeping him from getting any sleep.

Herman turned to his side and it had seemed to stop the snoring. Hagan sighed in relief and retreated to the door.

“I-I love you, Tony,” Herman mumbled in his sleep. Hagan stopped in his tracks at the words. He hadn’t heard Herman say Tony in decades and it was bringing back memories of when they were teenagers.

He turned to see Herman hugging the corner of his pillow. Whether he meant it romantically or not, it was going to stick to him. Hagan walked back over and reached out, wanting to wake him and ask him.

He pulled away and walked to the door. He heard him snore again but didn’t turn back.

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Brake-Check drabble request please <3: Zach pushes himself too hard during training and Hagan worries about him. Is Brake-Check considered a rare pair???

If I can browse the tag in less than ten minutes, it’s a rare pair.

askbox

They were nearing the end of their training. The sun was setting and all four of them were dripping with sweat. Woody’s helmet had fogged up and Herman’s boots were begging to stop. Hagan felt his entire back stick to his shirt.

Zach seemed alright for the most part. Hagan had been paying a lot of (unnecessary) attention to him and he noticed a slight limp since Adam made them run laps.

“Zach? You alright? Your ankle..” he mentioned before the next task. Zach’s eyebrows furrowed at him for even noticing it.

“It’s nothing, I’ll walk it off,” he shrugged as he moved to their designated position.

“Go! Go! Go!” Adam yelled as they started the obstacle choice. Herman was out first and Woody’s fogged up helmet was an obstacle in itself and caused him to trip face first into the mud. Hagan believed that the twentieth time of doing the damn course would be his best and he was ahead for once.

Everything came to a halt when Hagan heard Zach curse out in pain. He stopped in his tracks and turned to see Zach on the ground with his free hand around his ankle. He ran to him and knelt next to him.

“Walked it off?” he teased and instantly regretted it as he saw Zach’s face curl up like a child who scraped his knee. “C’mon, I got you,” he said as he put his arms under Zach’s body and lifted him up.

“Put me the fuck down, I’m not five,” he groaned. Hagan ignored it and Zach tried to worm out of his grasp but he was too tired and too much in pain to fight any longer.

Hagan knew he shouldn’t have stayed in the office while Zach was put in a brace for a sprained ankle. It was getting too obvious and when Herman asked about it, he would just shrug it off as being a father figure for Zach. He would keep on lying.

“You’ve gotten pretty strong,” Zach commented as he laid in bed with a pillow under his foot. Hagan chuckled.

“Carrying you is a workout in itself,” he replied. He yawned, it was getting close to midnight and they would be up almost at sunrise. “Get some sleep, alright?”

“Come here first,” Zach ordered and Hagan rose from the chair. He had a huge grin on his face as he sat up and gave him a quick kiss. “Go shower, you fucking stink.”

Hagan was speechless as he smiled and took it as his goodnight as left the room. He would’ve stayed, but he was at risk of triggering Woody’s helmet.

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Blainemonger: Jon is working on a charcoal piece and Blaine, unknowing of the medium, tries to get Jon's attention by putting his big meaty hands RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE OF JON'S PIECE. And Jon, either explodes or contains his anger but is seriously eyeballing the x-acto knife next to him.

God, I love you Amari <3

askbox

After many months, Blaine had figured out his way around the studio arts department. He never quite fit into the art school scene but he wasn’t there to join in, he was there to bother his boyfriend whom he knew would be in his assigned studio.

He casually walked into the room and saw him instantly. He was sitting a the table, headphones in his ears, drawing in his sketchbook.

Jon’s fingers were coated in charcoal and the undersides of his hands were smudged as well. He was going over one of his older still life drawing in hopes of getting better at perspective. He would occasionally switch to his smudger to blend his shadows.

Blaine stood in front of his desk, calling his name but he didn’t hear him over the sound of his music. He didn’t mean to be careless as he placed his hand in front of Jon’s face to get his attention and slam his hand on his drawing.

“Blaine! What the fuck?!” Jon yelled over his music as he put his pencil down and pulled his headphones over his head. Blaine pulled away his hand as he heard Jon shout.

“Hello!” he greeted. Jon did not look happy as he furrowed his eyes up at him. Jon was seriously considering pulling out the x-acto knife from his kit but he didn’t. Blaine’s face went from happy to confused. Jon looked down at his drawing and sighed over the big hand print in the charcoal powder. Blaine looked at his hand and saw that it was covered in the black powder.

“I thought you were drawing in marker,” he confessed. Jon wanted to run his hand through his hair to calm down but his hand was as black as the abyss and would probably stain his hair.

“No, Blaine, this is charcoal and you just fucking, smudged the fuck out of it,” he replied. Jon searched for his rag and quickly wiped as much as he could off his hands. All his progress was destroyed.

“I can fix this,” Blaine said as he took the sketchbook and tried to smudge the black to remove his hand print. Jon watched in horror as Blaine probably made the error irreversible. 

But Blaine tried, and he stubbornly tried to fix his mistake but he didn’t even know what he was doing anymore. He was just smudging and his finger was so dirty that it grayed any white spots. 

“I-I don’t think I can fix this, I’m sorry,” he admitted as he realized the mess he made of Jon’s artwork. Jon looked up at him with heavy eyes and desperation. Blaine wiped the charcoal off his hands and onto his jeans, not caring about the black streaks his fingers left behind.

“It’s okay. It was only practice,” Jon brushed it off, taking the notebook and looking at the work that Blaine did. It was a disaster but he tried. Blaine went to his side and wrapped his arms around his head.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled into his head. “Forgive me?”

“Yeah, I would hug you back but I’ll leave marks everywhere,”  Jon smiled as he showed his his charcoal covered hands. Blaine hugged a little harder and by habit, Jon wrapped his hands around his warm strong arms to comfort him.

He left long black marks where his fingers were, and many more on his clothes.

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procrastinating life. send me drabble prompts

as usual: rare pairs are encouraged.

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rare pair!!! poor jonrisinger is sick and tired of geoff and joel always not taking "on the spot" seriously and disrespecting his ganes so he devises a plan to teach his bfs a lesson

Meanies!

askbox

There’s always a line for someone’s patience. Jon loved them to pieces but he couldn’t continue to watch them make a mess of his show. He was close to never asking for their participation ever again.

Jon had a plan. A turn of events.

He invited Geoff and Joel for another round and they didn’t decline.

“We are turning the tables tonight, my wonderful guests Joel and Geoff will be hosting tonight. I’m just gonna sit in this seat and watch,” Jon announced and got off his seat. Joel and Geoff never heard of this plan before, but they were being recorded live and they couldn’t say no. They both sat, squeezed, side by side. They picked up the clipboard and read off of, trying to remember the basic rules of the game.

“Listen, if this is because we’ve been assholes every time we’ve been on the show, then I deeply apologize. I don’t have a damn fucking clue what to do,” Joel apologized first. Jon furrowed his eyebrows but didn’t say a word, he was waiting for Geoff. He looked up from the clipboard and cleared his throat.

“Yeah, sorry, dude, we’re jerks,” he said.

Jon smiled, accepting their apology and returned to his seat to restart the game. Joel and Geoff sat quietly in their seats and played along.

That evening, Joel and Geoff curled themselves around Jon, nuzzling at his neck.

“You two are such brats,” Jon laughed as he received the attention.

“We’re sorry, again,” Geoff mumbled into his shoulder. Jon turned his head to kiss Geoff’s cheek and then again to kiss Joel’s.

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RYLES. FORBIDDEN LOVE.

inspired by the story of Marie Antoinette and her affair with Count Fersen

french royalty!au

Archduke Miles Antony de Luna, a title he only held for what felt like such a short time, became Dauphin Miles de Luna, a unfamiliar name to the French vocabulary. Marriage by politics was fated for him to gain peace in his home country, and by his father and mother’s will asked the Duchess of Berry and the Dauphine of France to be his wife.

His home in Versailles was magnificent, he indulged a lot of time in the gardens and on his horse. Anything to be busy and away from his wife. He couldn’t blame the woman, she was kind towards him, only trying her best to win his heart to ease the pain they both didn’t want to admit to. He tried as well. He kissed her every morning before he left the castle to tend to his duties. He let her teach him French, trying to incorporate him better into French society.

Though, they both knew that it wasn’t working, and a loveless marriage it would stay.

“His Royal Highness, Miles Antony, I would like to present to you my good friend, Count James Ryan Haywood, he is visiting from London to attend the military school in the neighbouring town,” Miles was presented to the beautiful man in front of his in the most elegant militia attire he had ever seen.

“Enchanted,” he bowed. Miles tilted his head down in response. The ball was getting very long and tiring. He rather just be in his room, letting his wife read out loud until he fell asleep. Though, his curiosity got the best of him and he had spent most of the night with the count.

The count felt so honoured, and had asked if he could pass by again. The Prince smiled wide and told him: “You are always welcomed to come to my home.”

What became a few visits, it was obvious that they had grew very much fond of each other. Miles would sprint out of his quarters as fast as he could, wanting to see the count.

“My dear, where do you go in such a hurry?” his wife had asked at breakfast, seeing him tense and restless. He looked up at her. She was looking very plain that day, her hair in tight braids around her head and in a lifeless white gown. He swallowed his tea loudly.

“Pardon me, I have business with the militia this morning,” he rose and walked over to his wife. She wanted a kiss on the lips, he could tell by the taint of strawberries on her lips. She took a deep breath before leaving a chaste kiss. “Have a good morning.”

He tasted strawberries on his tongue at noon. Royal hands snaked through his hair, pushing his body against his against the golden engravings of his personal room. No one would come in without knocking; he took advantage of his powers.

“May I?” Count Haywood asked as his calloused fingers traced the buttons on his jacket.

“Surely,” he expired before taking his mouth in his against. The count was quick to open layers and leave marks on his skin that only he would see. Clothing piled on the floor beneath them.

When Dauphin of France turned into King of France, he felt like he had nothing left to lose in his battle against his people to keep his title. He indulged as much as he could in who was Count Haywood, who he had ordered to stay in France until otherwise. He could barely hide it anymore, the word was out that he couldn’t satisfy his wife, he couldn’t court a woman and instead betrayed the church and tasted hell itself.

“My, you’re so relaxed for a King with a country on the brisk of a revolution,” the count commented as King Miles sat half-haphazardly dressed upon his bed, smoking a pipe. The count crawled onto the bed, kissing the man’s bare stomach and resting in between his legs.

“I am no King, I am a disgrace, and I will let this country be ripped from my hands like they ripped me from mine, now, come, kiss your King for I may not be alive tomorrow,” King Miles pulled the count up from his blouse and kissed with a tobacco filled mouth. The Count chuckled in his lips.

The shouting became louder and louder. He couldn’t ignore it any longer. Rumours were countless towards him while he protected his wife.

“You are not my husband!” she cried one morning, tossing a tea cup at him that crashed against the wall behind him. He watched her cry, feeling no remorse in what he was doing. He had failed her first.

“Go, I cannot keep you here any longer,” he had told his lover. He kissed his lips again and again, trying to savour what he was sacrificing. “I have a coach waiting for you at the gates to go to Switzerland. I must break this affair and tend to my kingdom.”

The Count’s eyes widened and then relaxed. It was destined to not last and what was love was now gone. “I’ll write to you in secret until the day you die.” he promised. He stroked the Kings hands one last time before departing as quickly as he could. The King stayed in his chamber the rest of the day, asking for no one to ask for him.

While all his attention was put on politics, his family and making alliances during times of turmoil, he was charged with high treason. It was said that the King’s hair had turned white overnight after the charges. Sent to the guillotine, he left behind no children and a Queen without a King.