had to get a cortisone injection in my foot today ( certainly wasn’t planning on it before hand ! ) and then had to go to work immediately after while it was swollen and tender and i can barely put weight on it right now and i have only just gotten home an hour or so ago
i work tomorrow and then this friday but after that i’m off until next wednesday, so i’m going to make a genuine effort to be around ( feel free to hold me to this! ) because i have some real fun stuff in my drafts AND stuff that’s been collecting dust in my inbox that i would love to get to soon AND !! mutuals that i have not yet written with that i would love to start stuff with !!
@leschanceux / hank & alex — "that's even nerdier, unfortunately."
a retort sits buried beneath hank’s tongue, one he actively fights to swallow, before the moment passes and his gaze lifts a few degrees before landing on alex’s stupid little smirk.
the paper that hank has been tiredly making his way through revising is quickly abandoned alongside his favorite red pen as he leans back in his chair, arms outstretched for a moment behind him as he tries to play it off.
i’m allowed to have a favorite pen. dickhead.
hank, language — a voice echoes within his thoughts before he shoots charles an apologetic grimace from across the room before turning his attention back to alex.
“ you know you really are the worst, ” he mutters under his breath, no malice behind the words ( only brotherly annoyance ) before his tone melts into something more genuine, “ i do really think if you applied yourself, you could be a great teacher, alex. ”
things seem to settle down quickly; he still wonders whether kip is actually enjoying the movie ( he says he is, at least ), but scott's having a pretty good time here on the couch with his boyfriend. he does notice just how red kip's gone after the kiss to the side of his head - almost as red as his admirals home kit jersey, in fact - and it amuses him no end.
so he does it again.
and then he takes pity on kip, leaves off kissing him so he can watch the theft of the declaration of independence, grinning the whole time ( he might, at heart, be as much of a little shit as ilya goddamn rozanov --- at least when he wants to be ). he's still grinning when kip gapes at him, the movie forgotten for a minute. "yeah, we went to the same college but a couple of years apart. he came back to talk about something after national treasure, and i sat in on the talk, spoke to him after. he was really nice. i think i have the photo somewhere, actually."
kip revels in the warmth of scott’s lips against his cheek once again, the fading musk of his cologne, the slight scratch of their matching scruff.
( a beard on a face like scott’s was near lethal— one could start a fire if too much friction were ever involved. )
“ completely disregarding how utterly jealous i am of you for that, ” kip pauses, pointer finger held high for emphasis before he brings it down gently to boop scott on the nose, unable to stifle the near giggle that follows.
this new level of comfortability they’d reached together was something kip would cherish as long as he possibly could; for the rest of this life and well into the next.
for all the time henley spent secretly wishing to be reunited with the horsemen, for just one more job with them... she never wanted it to be like this. for the new magicians to get roped into their life or death schemes, for merritt to have been caught... it's no longer adrenaline coursing through her veins but fear for the people she cares about instead.
the plane to abu dhabi is hardly the proper place to catch up - but she hasn't seen her friends in way too long, and she needs a distraction from the growing pit in her stomach and overanalyzing every detail about the plan and how it could all go wrong.
there's a bright smile on her lips when she plops onto the seat across from jack - just a little forced, trying to push down her nerves and hopefully not stress him out too. "hey, you." her foot lightly bumps against his, to draw his attention towards her. "i wanted to come up to you before, but we haven't had much time to sit down and talk, with all the almost dying and all that."
henley lets out a laugh. "how have you been, jack?"
the shoe bump from henley had been just enough to pull jack out of whatever black cloud he’d been swallowed up by since their escape from a french prison, if only temporarily.
he had been leaning on the armrest of his seat, chin propped up in one hand bearing a near unnoticeable tremor, when previously vacant stare dissipated and tired eyes blinked up at the woman across from him.
“ hey, ” he gave a watery smile before letting out a shaky sigh and sliding down a few inches in his seat, like a balloon someone had carefully untied and decided to let a bit of air out of.
“ i’ve been better, hen. i’ve definitely been better. ”
jack had always been the most sensitive of the four. sure, he was technically the baby of the group, but that didn’t always mean he had to live up to the title. he was forty now, for fuck’s sake. a grown man. with a life, and a steady job ( no matter how shitty it may be ), and a family— well, maybe— part of one. not in the traditional sense, at least.
that particular spiral of thought did very little to quell the nausea already building back up in his stomach, so he pivoted, straightening up a bit as he turned all of his remaining focus back onto henley- and not whatever mess was surely about to go down in abu dhabi.
Concerned roleplay starters. Send me...
(Send 🔄 + any emoji to reverse the outcome.)
😭 to find my muse crying.
🤕 to find my muse with an obvious injury.
❤️🩹 to find my muse trying to hide an injury.
🤢 to find my muse visibly sick.
🩸 to find my muse after they've been in a fight.
💤 to find my muse passed out.
🥴 to catch my muse as they faint.
🌧️ to find my muse in the rain without an umbrella.
😵 to find my muse half dead in an alley.
🫳 to put a comforting hand on my muse's shoulder.
🫂 to give my muse a comforting hug.
set her rink bag down and pulled off her gloves. she could already feel the bruises on her thighs and butt beginning to form despite the padded shorts she wore to prevent that. it had been a session mostly of practicing her jumps, and while she'd landed most of the doubles, she wasn't having a good triple day. "you know, how the hell am i supposed to land a quad, if a bad ice day means i can barely land jumps i've been consistent with for years?" she wanted triple axel and a quad lutz, she knew she could get there, she just had to crack it. "by the way, the hockey practice earlier really fucked up the lutz corners. i had to avoid whole spots cause there were just chunks missing." even after resurfacing, there were still huge dents. annalise didn't understand why they kept scheduling freestyle sessions after hockey practices, but at least she knew that she could trust ryan to commiserate with her. she started unlacing her skates, flexing her toes as she pulled her feet out of the boot.
ryan was busy undoing his own skates as annalise began to make her way through her short, but specific — and certainly warranted - list of complaints.
he couldn’t help but nod along in affirmation as she spoke.
“ no, you’re entirely right — ” his thoughts drifted briefly to the practice in question that ryan himself had actually been present for. observing, but still. “ i’ll pass on a message. they think angry hockey players are scary? they haven’t met an angry figure skater, ” ryan let out an exhale of a laugh, shaking his head in faux outrage as he deflected past the vague mention of his new connections.
annalise didn’t know he’d been ‘ playing for the enemy team ’, and she most certainly didn’t need to know.
“ at the very least, your doubles are sharp as hell. be proud of that. i know it’s not much, but don’t beat yourself up for things that aren’t exactly in your control, ” he shrugged, nodding toward the torn up ice.
there was a moment where nancy seriously thought mike was a goner. why was he just standing there? she ran toward him, relieved they hadn't gotten separated just turned around in the dark forrest and grabbed him, putting herself in the demogorgan's path instead of him.
she raised her gun.
she fired at it, first one round to get it's attention away from mike. and then another as fast as she could into the demogorgan's head. from such close range it practically exploded. she felt what must be some kind of brain matter splatter on her. yuck!
as soon as the demogorgan fell limp in front of them she turned to her brother. "mike, mike are you okay? we've got to go."
shit. he was out like a light.
nancy shouldered the gun and knelt down at mike's side. she nudged him and then nudged him again. "don't make me carry you mike. get up, we have to go!" she didn't know if she would even be able to if she had to. she was sure the gunshots had probably gotten the attention of other demos though and they had to get out before they came.
wherever mike was, he was floating, sinking, falling— and then, as suddenly as he’d slammed into the damp underbrush of the forest floor, he was launched back into consciousness, sitting up with such urgency that his and nancy’s heads nearly collided.
“ whu—- oh god, ow. ”
one hand flew up to cradle the back of his head as the other gripped nancy’s arm for stability. “ i- i’m good, i’m good. i swear— ” mike scrambled to his feet, listing to the side briefly before catching himself against a tree.
the demogorgon corpse lay twitching amongst the leaves a few feet away.
their pace was instantly quicker than mike would’ve liked, but he understood the severity of the situation. a crawl had never gone this awry before; they needed to course correct, and stat. mike kept one hand on nancy as they ran, “ for the record, i wouldn’t be surprised if you could carry me. ”
it was a compliment, and he meant it as such, even in his disoriented state — although it might’ve sounded a lot more like a critique of his own lanky form rather than the strength and determination of his sister.
“ just a bruise? christ, shane— it’s the size of a grapefruit! ” ryan’s expression is one of deep concern and mild horror as his free hand hovers over the deep purple flesh on shane’s abdomen; he can practically feel the heat radiating from inches away. “ you sure you don’t have any broken ribs in there too— ? ” his tone is lighter, but the look of concern has yet to fade.