#'The damage cell will quickly be healed by the other cells'

[eyepatchdate]

This game drives me so fucking INSANE. atom = adam ofc and just. Equating opening to the expanse to THAT choice.

[honeybuckin10]

Hospital Beds - a Hawks x fem!doctor!reader One Shot

Summary: Hawks heals more than his wings after the Paranormal Liberation War attacks [wc: 4.6k].  

Warnings: mentions of mental health struggles, mentions of character death, descriptions of wounds, swearing, angst, fluff, comfort, potentially unpopular Hawks opinions. characters slightly aged up.

a/n: started writing thinking this was gonna be cute and flirty, ended up taking a kind of serious turn (still otherwise cute and flirty with happy-ish ending). might do a spicier part 2 at some point. as always, don’t be a ghost reader pls and ty <3

Hawks’ eyes were focused on the window, lost in thought. There was a crowd gathered outside Central Hospital. From the muffled voices through the glass, it didn’t sound like they were there for support. He felt the span of his back against the hospital bed, a sensation both foreign and grounding. The space where his wings once were stung slightly at the contact, despite the heavy nerve blockers he assumed were administered earlier.

“Back again so soon?”

You broke him from his trance as you shut the door behind you. Your eyes immediately scanned his monitors, a pleasant smile never leaving your face.

“At some point, we really do have to get your heart rate checked out.”

He didn’t actually have a high heart rate. But the machines he was hooked up to always went crazy whenever he got sight of you. He was too embarrassed to say anything, though he wondered if you noticed why his charts never reflected any underlying conditions when his vitals were checked by others.

“You’re not a very good patient, you know. Though now that you can’t talk, perhaps you’ll actually listen.”

He tried to respond, but quickly remembered he couldn’t open his jaw, not very much at least. No sound came out of the small gap between his lips.

You had treated Hawks on several occasions now, usually after incidents involving fire. Most were minor. He’d come in and joke that he’d done it on purpose to see you. You’d roll your eyes, every now and then you’d even dignify him with an actual response: ‘nice try’. But his injuries now were unlike anything you’d ever seen. You knew it was bad when he didn’t try flirting with you. Then again, it’s not like he could even if he wanted to.

Your tone was light and breezy, but the furrow in your brow betrayed your façade.

“I’m only joking, of course. But in all seriousness, your trachea was severely damaged from the smoke inhalation during the attack. Fortunately you narrowly avoided respiratory failure, but you won’t be able to use your voice for a couple of weeks. Lucky for you, technology has advanced enough that you won’t have to carry around a notepad everywhere you go. We recommend using the voice app on your phone.”

You handed him his cell phone, when Hawks noticed a plastic bag of personal items behind you with unknown origins. You followed his eyes to see what was distracting him.

“Oh yes, a young man named Tokoyami brought you a change of clothes and some other things you may need while you were out. Said he was your mentee.” You paused, searching for some kind of reaction. You thought it might brighten his spirits. His eyes widened somewhat, but there was still no smile. “It’s clear you’ve had a big impact on him.”

Tokoyami. His mentee. A child. More memories of the battlefield came flooding back. Twice. Dabi. He knew you hoped that bringing up his pupil would put him at ease. But Hawks was suddenly overwhelmed with guilt that he had put the student is such a dangerous situation.

“I also spoke with Dermatology. They informed me that sixteen percent of your body is covered with third degree burns, another twenty percent second degree, and twenty-two percent first degree. Given the severity and location of the burns, you’re also at risk of developing contractures that could compress your airways in the future so we’ll need to keep a close eye on that. Once your wraps come off, they’ve prescribed you a topical treatment that you’re to use three times a day until everything is healed. You’ll also be started on an oral antibiotic immediately, which you’re to take for three weeks.”

He attempted to use his new voice.

“What about wings?” You took a deep breath. Not good.

“I’m getting to that. I’m going to adjust your bed a little first. Are you able to lean forward?” He nodded as the bed rose up and the angle of his back moved more upright. He winced, unable to hide his discomfort but did as you instructed.

“I’m sorry, I know this is painful for you. I’m going as quickly as I can.” You talked through how you were examining his dressings, that his biggest risk at the moment was that the wounds would get infected, and that the dressings would need to be changed again before the end of the day.

“I think they will grow back. But it will be painful and it will be slow. You must be patient during this time and you’ll have to stay out of the field for a while. I’d recommend taking a well-deserved break until they’re fully healed.”

Bedrest sounded like Hawks’ personal hell. He only nodded his head. He didn’t have the energy to protest.

“You’ll also need to go through a psychiatric evaluation before rejoining field.”

Hawks let out a muffled groan. You let out an exasperated laugh.

“Really, you didn’t make a peep when I was examining your open wounds but you draw the line at psych eval?” You watched as he typed out his next thought.

“Waste of time.” Your eyes softened.

“First of all, this is standard procedure. Endeavor, Mirko, Eraserhead, all those UA students are going to have to get one too. Second, even if it wasn’t, what you – what you’ve all gone through would cause even the strongest soldier some kind of stress. We want to make sure that you’re all in the right headspace so that you’re the most prepared you can be going against whatever this enemy is. You have to take care of yourself first before you can take care of others.”

Hawks sat there a moment in silence, absorbing your words. Wondering whether you would be so sympathetic and kind if you knew the truth. He began typing.

“I killed someone,” the unnatural voice said. It came from him, but it didn’t feel like him. It echoed against the walls of the sterile room, void of emotion.

You pulled a chair next to his bed so that you were slightly below his eye level.

“I heard. That must be a lot to carry.”

“You hate me.”

“I don’t.”

“I’m a bad person.”

“You’re not.” You paused, choosing your next words carefully for the fragile hero. “I don’t know what your world is like. I wasn’t there so I don’t know exactly what happened. But I do know that we are both in the business of saving lives, albeit in different ways. My guess is you made a split second decision on what was in the mission’s best interest to save the lives of your colleagues and ultimately the lives of civilians. Nobody has a crystal ball to know whether that was the best or right choice. But it was a life or death situation, and you did the best you could in the moment. It’s natural to feel remorse and guilt, but you can’t let it debilitate you for the rest of your life either.”

What right did you have to comment on such things?

“You’ve never killed someone,” he countered.

“I have. In my OR. There are some people that can’t be saved, no matter how hard you try.”

“I think he was a good person,” he typed, wondering if that negated everything you just said.

“Good people do bad things all the time. It doesn’t make them bad people.” He sighed, swallowing the searing pain as harsh air passed through his lungs. You watched closely as the hero studied his bandaged hands, refusing to make eye contact. “For now, the best thing you can do for yourself and Japan is rest. We need you.”

He sat with your words. It didn’t dawn on him until long after you left the room that you weren’t just talking about Twice.

-

As you warned, the days passed at a glacial pace. He didn’t enjoy how quickly he acclimated to talking through his phone. He had growing pains from the nubs of his wings that began to poke through his skin. Each day brought a revolving door of doctors and healers and other specialists, by whom he was constantly poked and prodded and observed. Hawks hated every minute of it. Almost every minute.

You came in daily to monitor the progress of his wings. It was the most painful part of his recovery. But you entered his room with a smile and sunny disposition, like you weren’t about to inflict torture on him for thirty minutes. The air hurt his exposed back when you removed the old bandages. It stung when you applied antiseptic to cleanse the area. It felt like he was going to pass out when you ran your gloved fingers along the growth that was coming in. He felt all the more pathetic laying on his stomach as you did your work.

But you did your best to distract him with bad jokes and hospital gossip. Not that you had to put in that much effort. Your presence was distracting enough.

On the fourth day after the battle, you finally got a chuckle out him. What’s black and white and black and white and black and white? He shrugged as you applied ointment. A penguin falling down the stairs. You quickly realized that your methods may have been faulty as his laugh devolved into a coughing fit, his lungs still weak.

“Shit, I’m sorry. Try to remember your box breathing.”

He held his breath at the top of his inhale. Four, three, two, one. Exhale. Four, three, two, one. He repeated this for a minute before his breath finally returned to normal. He gave a thumbs up. I’m ok.

Relief washed over your face. “I’m sorry I made you choke on air. But glad to see you in better spirits today.” He began typing.

“I’m always in good spirits when you’re around.” You bit back a smile no one could see as you started redressing the incoming wings.

“Ah, there he is. Yeah, you’re definitely starting to feel better.”

“Can’t you tell? I’m the pinnacle of health.” The gallows humor was hard to miss despite the monotone robotic voice, the statement in stark contrast to his fully bandaged and hospitalized body.

“You will be, soon enough.” You finished applying new bandages. “That’s it for me today, unless there’s anything else you want to share.”

“Capricorn. 27. Single –“

“Yeah, yeah, very funny.” You pulled off your disposable gloves, turning to hide the blush creeping up your neck. “I already knew that from your chart. Nice try,” you teased.

“Didn’t know you were stalking me.”

“Goodbye Hawks, I’ll see you tomorrow.” You knew your faux sternness was hardly believable, as you caught him wink before you closed the door.

-

Two days later you bumped into Hawks and Best Jeanist in the hallway. You broke into a wide grin when you noticed the two heroes, pleasantly surprised to see just how much progress your patient had made in such a short time.  

“Good morning gentlemen.”

“Good morning Dr. y/l/n,” Best Jeanist said with a small bow. Hawks was visibly confused about his formality.

“Please, there’s no need for that. It’s just good to see you back in the land of the living.” Best Jeanist helped fill in the gaps for his perplexed cohort.

“Hawks, Dr. y/l/n was part of the team who developed the drugs to put me in a temporary death-like state to convince Dabi that you’d killed me. We can thank her for setting us up for success to get you undercover.” Hawks knew he missed out on a lot during his covert mission, but had no idea how many parties were involved outside the ordinary network of hero agencies and the Commission. You blushed at the praise.

“It was nothing, really. You guys are the ones doing all the hard work.”

“Truly, we are in your debt,” Best Jeanist piled on. You weren’t used to so much flattery and you had a job to do so you tried to end the conversation.

“Anyways, I have to get to my next patient. Jeanist, keep an eye on your partner. It’s good for him to walk around a little bit but make sure he doesn’t overdo it.”

“I won’t let him out of my sight.” He gave another bow.

“I’m right here,” Hawks typed, unamused by the turn of the exchange.

“I’ll see you in a few hours, Hawks,” you yelled over your shoulder before disappearing down the next corridor.

The session later that day was nothing out of the ordinary. The nubs sprouting from his back had formed into tiny but well-defined wings and he was able to sit up during exams as opposed to lying face down on the hospital bed. All signs of positive progress.

He watched wistfully as you documented your observations, swaying his legs off the side of the bed like a child.

“They’re coming in quite nicely, I’m really happy with where you’re at.”

“Great what do I need to sign to get out of here?”

“Ahhh not so fast. You have to stay at least another two days and even once you’re discharged, you most certainly are not ready to return to active duty.” He pouted underneath his respirator mask.

“You’re no fun.”

“Sorry, just doing my job.” You proceeded to check his other vitals before heading out. First you took off his mask to check his lymph nodes, pressing your fingers firmly against the outer side of his jaw, moving down his neck. He was acutely aware of the lone thin layer of latex that separated you. He couldn’t stop the warmth that crept up his face, thankful that most of it was still covered. His flushed cheeks may have been under wraps, but he couldn’t hide his quickened pulse from you. You put on your stethoscope and instructed him to breathe deeply a few times, the cold metal circle moving from his upper back, to lower back, to his chest.  

Your brow furrowed in confusion. “Your lungs are sounding better but your heart’s beating like crazy.”

He feigned surprise, which was much easier when he didn’t have to control his own voice. “Really? That’s odd, no one else’s said anything.”

You pulled up his chart again to check the inputs of all the other practitioners who’ve treated the hero since his arrival at Central Hospital. All values normal.

“On a scale from one to ten, how much pain are you in at this point?”

“Two or three.”

“Are you feeling nervous about anything?” He chewed his lower lip trying to think of a way to get out of this, knowing that if he said no you would run more tests which would be unnecessary and prolong his stay.

“Yes,” he lied. Kind of. He actually was a little nervous, though definitely not for the reason you likely thought. You brought your chair next to his bed again.

“Do you want to talk about it?” A loaded question.

“No.” The good thing about talking through his phone and the mask was that he could get away with saying less. Sympathetic people tended to not ask follow up questions.

“Okay. Well, you know I’m always here if you ever want to talk.” You spoke slowly, your reassuring voice laced with uncertainty. It was difficult to get a read on him when you couldn’t hear the tone of his voice or see his face. “Do you have any questions?” He nodded.

“Will you go on a date with me?” You almost choked on your own saliva. You blushed, but forced yourself to remain stoic.

“I’m very flattered, but there are strict protocols against physician-patient relationships.” Your stern message was undercut by your stammering, high pitched squeak.

“What if I promise to never get hurt again?” You tried not to smile, knowing it would only egg him on. You were failing.

“You shouldn’t be making promises you can’t keep.”

“What if I find a different doc?”

“You’ve gotten awfully good at talking through your phone,” you muttered under your breath.

“Can’t hear you.” Despite his mostly covered face, you could tell from the crinkle around his eyes that he was enjoying every moment of this interrogation.

“I-I’d have to take it up with the Board of Ethics.”

“That’s not a no.”

“You’re incorrigible.”

“Can I say one more thing?” You sighed, bracing yourself for whatever nonsense he was about to spew.

“I’d rather you didn’t but legally I think I have to say yes.” You watched as his thumbs frantically moved over the keyboard.

“Thank you for taking care of Best Jeanist. This operation wouldn’t’ve gotten so far without him or you.”

“Oh.” Your felt your heartbeat in your throat. “Again, just doing my job. Glad I could help.” You fiddled with some papers. “Let’s try this one more time. Do you have any other questions… about your health.”

Hawks shook his head, looking exceptionally pleased with himself. Despite the fact that you wanted to scold him for the bizarre interaction, you were reassured by his pleasant disposition, one you hadn’t seen since he arrived.

“Good. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

-

Tomorrow rolled around but you entered an empty sterile room, bed ready for a new patient. After a few seconds your confusion passed and you saw red.

You stormed down the hall in search for any hospital staff, until a poor resident had the unfortunate luck of being in your path.

“Where the hell is my patient?”

“I-I’m sorry?”

“Room 3409. Yesterday my patient was there and today the room is empty. He wasn’t ready to be discharged so where is he?”

“I-I-I don’t know ma’am, I’m sorry.”

“Dr. y/l/n, this is a hospital, not wrestlemania if you could keep it down please. And stop traumatizing the junior residents.” Hawks’ pulmonologist emerged from his office and tried to placate you. You glowered at the first young doctor as he silently excused himself from the conversation that was definitely beyond his paygrade.  

“Please tell me he got moved to a different wing.”

“I’m afraid not.” He spoke again before you could let out another outburst. “I warned him of the risks of a premature discharge, to which he insisted he was feeling fine and that those were risks he was willing to take. I had him fill out some paper work and a consent form and he left this morning.” Your nostrils flared as you silently seethed.

“I’m gonna kill him.”

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that so I don’t have to report you. Oh, and one more thing…” The doctor took a deep breath before proceeding, worried he may end up the subject of your wrath. “This is probably terrible timing, but – he requested to take you off his care team,” your eyes widened “…and should he be re-hospitalized that you not be involved.”

“WHAT?” You continued mumbling a string of profanities under your breath. The doctor continued slowly and calmly.

“He made it very clear it had nothing to do with the quality of care he received from you. But he uh, mentioned something about a potential conflict of interest.” He took a step back as you burned an imaginary hole through his head with your retinas. “I cannot emphasize enough how much I do not want to know any more information about this.”

“There is no more information about it because it doesn’t exist!” You wanted to scream. “Fuck him. Fuck you. Fuck this hospital. I’msosorryItakethoselasttwoback.” You stomped your foot down like a petulant child before storming off. “FUCK!”

-

By the next day you had cooled off, that is, until you saw Hawks loitering outside Endeavor’s room as you were making your rounds.

“YOU!” you boomed. Hawks’ excitement to see you was quickly replaced with fear as you approached and you were close enough that he could see the rage steaming off you.

“Hey doc,” he said sheepishly.

“Don’t you ‘hey doc’ me.” You were very close to his face. He was sure he would’ve felt your breath if he didn’t have the stupid respirator mask on. For a split second he thought about taking it off but realized that would only further enrage you. “What the hell were you thinking?”

He began typing but you swatted his hand before he could answer. “Ow.”

“And you –“ Best Jeanist would be the next recipient of your verbal lashings. “You said you would keep an eye on him. Liar.”

Hawks had never seen his colleague scared before, but there was a first for everything.

“He just wanted to come for a ride-along, I promise he stayed in the car the whole time!”

“I have never been more disappointed,” you said in a low voice. Best Jeanists bowed.

“I am very ashamed and deeply regret my actions. I am sorry.” That seemed to pacify you momentarily. You returned your wrath to Hawks.

“I told you you’re not ready to return to the field. And now I hear you’re refusing to receive treatment from me? I cannot explain to you how embarrassed and insulted I am.” You allowed him time to type this time as Best Jeanist stood there as witness, desperately wishing for the floor to open below and swallow him whole.

“You’re right. I’m not ready. But this enemy is moving too quickly, time is of the essence. I’m in good enough shape that I can help off the field. I’m sorry I went against your professional judgement.” You continued to glare at him with pursed lips.

“And?”

“And I was being proactive. I’m taking you on that date.” Your face flushed immediately while the avian hero somehow remained shameless. You did your best to maintain your composure.

“Is that a threat?”

“It’s a promise.” You crossed your arms defensively.

“After a stunt like this, I wouldn’t be so sure. Plus, since you’ve already taken it upon yourself to be discharged I’m not sure why you’re even here.”

“Now that we know about the Todoroki family connection to Dabi, we need to gather intel. Also need to consolidate info from those at the Jaku Hospital attack. Off-field work, if you will.” Your eyes narrowed, only to be met with undeterred playful golden irises.

“Fine, I’ll allow it. But I feel the need to make it known that I’m not happy about it.” The injured hero smiled again.

“Thanks, doc.”

“Again, our sincerest apologies for the mishap.” Best Jeanist did his best to make up for his companion’s clear lack of repentance.

You only gave the heroes a parting glare as you walked away.  

The rest of the day passed, otherwise uneventful but long and exhausting. You kept a professional and pleasant face for the benefit of your patients, but it was getting hard to maintain after all you’d seen in the last seven days since the attacks. Yes, there were cases of miraculous recoveries in the face of overwhelming trauma. But far more frequent were lives that were forever altered by all that had transpired, not just for patients themselves but all the other souls connected to those individuals. The hospital was at capacity, and each bed represented not just one person but a web of lives that now had to face a new crippling reality. If you thought about it too much you could cry – which you did, in the nearest break room or supply closet if had even just two minutes between appointments. Thus, your favorite part of the day became doing paperwork in your office at the end of your shift. It was methodical and soothing, and allowed you to disassociate.

It was at that moment when you were enjoying your oasis that an intern rushed into your office, disturbing your peace.

“There’s an emergency on the top floor, you need to come quick.” You immediately got up and followed her down the hall and up the elevator, asking clarifying questions about the situation.

But when you entered the room in question, all you saw was a picnic blanket on the hospital bed, two champagne flutes, a bottle, and the number two hero. The intern shrank in the doorway.

“I’m really sorry, he said he would send me a bunch of merch if I could get you here.”

“You’ve got to be joking.” You rubbed your temples, hoping it would transport you to another dimension where you never went to medical school and thus would not be here. “You are not to accept a single thing from him, do you understand?” The intern nodded aggressively. “Now go, I’m sure you have better places to be, ideally with a patient who actually needs help.” The intern scurried away without another word.

“And you,” now turning to Hawks. “Bribing medical professionals? Super illegal.”

“Sorry.” His mischievous eyes said otherwise, clearly undeterred by your scolding. You scoffed.

“No you’re not.” He shrugged. You took a closer look at the set up. “Seems kinda wasteful, doesn’t it? You can’t even drink.”

He turned the bottle to show the label. Sparkling nonalcoholic cider. The corners of your lips tugged upwards, threatening to betray your steely exterior.

 Any semblance of a smile quickly vanished, however, when he removed his respirator mask.

“What are you –“ He spoke before you could protest or before he lost his nerves.

“I’m going to be gone for a really long time after today. I don’t know when I’ll be back. Or if I’ll be back.” He cautiously grabbed your hands. “Regardless of which it is, I really want to make sure I don’t break any promises.”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in when he paused. You suddenly found it hard to keep eye contact.

“This is a hospital, not the Make A Wish Foundation.” Despite your icy response, you made no effort to pull your hands away from him. He gently rolled his thumb over your knuckles, trying to memorize every ridge and crease.

Most of his face was still covered in bandages, but you liked that you could now see how his lips curved into a lopsided smirk, punctuated by laugh lines that formed around the corners of his mouth. You liked knowing that you were responsible for it. Your mind concocted imaginary circumstances of other things you could do to get him to make the same perfect expression.  Your eyes lifted to meet his when you were done daydreaming.

“I thought they were one in the same.” He was insufferable. His arms fell to his sides when you separated yourself from him. For a moment he almost looked like the defeated shell of himself that was in your care a week ago. But it was quickly washed with relief when he saw you grab the bottle.

“You are the worst patient I’ve ever had.” A satisfying *pop* echoed in the room. He knew your words were hallow, as your acquiescence was rewarded with the hero’s bright eyes and heartfelt smile that made your heart beat in time with the little bubbles that evaporated around you. You handed him a glass of cider, his fingers ghosting over yours as he took the flute from you that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Then it’s a good thing I’m not your patient anymore.”

[icarusredwings]

This has been on my mind for NO Fucking reason so to make it shut up, lets talk about it.

"Why doesn't Wade just do chemotherapy?"

In this essay, I will explain the answer to that question, looking at Germ cancer cells and testicular cancer rates to decide-

Can Wade have biological kids?

Let's start with the basic facts.

What a germ cell tumor?

A germ cell tumor is a mass made of reproductive cells, also called germ cells. “Germ” is short for “germinate,” which means to mature. For men and people assigned male at birth (AMAB), germ cells mature into sperm. Related, germ cell tumors most often form where eggs get made (ovaries) and where sperm gets made (testicles).

[ https://my.clevelandclinic.org/health/diseases/23505-germ-cell-tumor]

Testicular cancer.

Most testicular cancers start in cells known as germ cells and are called germ cell tumours. Germ cells in men produce sperm. Testicular germ cell tumours can develop from germ cell neoplasia in situ (GCNIS). GCNIS means that there are abnormal cells in the testicle.

[https://www.cancerresearchuk.org/about-cancer/testicular-cancer/types#:~:text=Most%20testicular%20cancers%20start%20in,abnormal%20cells%20in%20the%20testicle.]

More than 90% of testicular cancer start in the germ cells, which are cells in the testicles and develop into sperm. This type of cancer is known as testicular germ cell cancer. Testicular germ cell cancer can be classified as either seminomas or nonseminomas, which may be identified by microscopy.

[https://www.cancer.gov/ccg/research/genome-sequencing/tcga/studied-cancers/testicular-germ-cell-study ]

Treatments.

At the moment there is not a lot of options, the most common are:

Chemotherapy

Radiation

Surgery

Chemotherapy.

Chemotherapy works by stopping or slowing the growth of cancer cells, which grow and divide quickly. Because of his healing factor, this would probably not work and if anything cause Wade more illness seeing as Chemo causes

Fatigue

Hair loss

Easy bruising and bleeding

Infection

Anemia (low red blood cell counts)

Nausea and vomiting

Appetite changes

Constipation

Diarrhea

Mouth, tongue, and throat problems such as sores and pain with swallowing

Peripheral neuropathy or other nerve problems, such as numbness, tingling, and pain

Skin and nail changes such as dry skin and color change

Urine and bladder changes and kidney problems

Weight changes

Chemo brain, which can affect concentration and focus (serve mind fog)

Mood changes

Changes in libido and sexual function

And last but not least Fertility problems

[https://www.cancer.org/cancer/managing-cancer/treatment-types/chemotherapy/chemotherapy-side-effects.html ]

Radiation.

At high doses, radiation therapy kills cancer cells or slows their growth by damaging their DNA. Cancer cells whose DNA is damaged beyond repair stop dividing or die. When the damaged cells die, they are broken down and removed by the body. In theory this would work a little bit, for about 12 minutes and then he immediately would have all of those dead cells back because while the radiology killed one spot, cancer spreads. Quickly. With his healing factor its MUCH quicker too. All that pain for nothing.

Fatigue

Hair loss

Memory or concentration problems

Throat problems, such as trouble swallowing

Cough

Shortness of breath

Taste changes

Skin changes (such as burning and peeling)

Less active thyroid gland

Sexual problems

Fertility problems

Urinary and bladder problems

[https://www.cancer.gov/about-cancer/treatment/types/radiation-therapy]

Surgery.

I dont even need any sources for this. We saw what happened to his legs when ripped off. They just grew back. And if removing cancer cells makes newer cancer cells? That's useless.

Summary.

Wades entire body is cancerous. Yes. His ENTIRE body. Every arm, toe, and fingernail on this man is cancerous. His healing factor is literally just having rapid cancer growth (amongst other things)

Chemotherapy and radiation will not work on him. Chemotherapy works by killing cancerous cells in order to grow healtheir ones. Except Wade can only produce cancerous cells. Yes, while they are new and much more likely in the very early stages, it's still cancerous.

This being said, there is no cure or treatment for Wades Cancer (that we know of at this time) Its quite physically the only thing keeping him with super hero powers yet still remains even after his powers are taken.

Hate to say it.

I hate to say it but statistically removing older, more advanced cells to replace with newer, less progressive cells (aka removing or ripping off his limbs/ parts of his body so they can grow back as new and fresh) is probably the best 'treatment' Wade has right now. Radiology would work the same, right?

Yes, but A. Not as B. Too many side effects that he he'll have to deal with MORE making him even more crazy and sick. Why would he do that when he can just tease Logan into slicing a hurt leg off and go from there?

Will the treatment help him be fertile?

Realistically, without his powers, he probably would be dead in a week, perhaps less due to just HOW much cancer this man truly has.

Chemo would also make it worse. So much worse, in fact. Both pain wise and his chances at ever biologically having a child.

Result(s) Before the cancer was diagnosed, (66%) 79/120 couples who attempted to conceive succeeded within 1 year. After (Cancer) treatment, (43%) 38/88 couples conceived within 1 year.

[https://www.fertstert.org/article/S0015-0282(03)00335-2/fulltext]

Testical Germ Cell Tumors are associated with semen abnormalities before orchiectomy. This review shows an increase in abnormal semen parameters among men with TGCT even outside the treatment effects of orchiectomy, radiation, or chemotherapy.

[https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC4270136/ ]

The way that TGCT affects the sperm is that it's very common for not only lower sperm count (obviously, it's hard to produce when you're fighting an entire body illness) but also changes the shape of the sperm which makes it very difficult to reach the egg. Sperm with crooked tails, double tails, double heads, or even broken sperm have a very hard time reaching the egg (think of it like natural selection) and die off before they get anywhere. If you already have low countage and most of them can't make it?

Well that's much lower chances of fertility.

In the comics.

In the comics, Wade has a daughter named Eleanor Camacho in which he was unaware of because her mother saw his face and ran away in terror. The entire thing is that her mother thought she was going to die and decided fuck it, if im gonna die Im gonna die happy so decided to spend these last moments with wade (who she literally just met- if that aint weird in itself idk what is).

She only ever found him to demand child support, and he refused to believe such a beautiful child could he his given his stance of insecurity and well- Just utter shock anyway, I think. He is right. Eleanor is gorgeous as a baby and as an adult.

(There's actually a whole comic where he's trying to fight death so his daughter doesn't die before him because he "couldn't bear the thought of living without her" so they activate a bomb "with the power of a black hole" and comit death together. It's very sweet)

TLDR

In conclusion.

Yes, Wade can have children, but he has a better chance at being successful if he removes his lower half and regrows it so that its *less* cancerous than before cells, therefore hes more likely to have normal shaped sperm and probably more of it during the process.

No, chemotherapy, radiation, and surgery would not be effective. Unfortunately, the most effective thing for him is ripping his limbs off sometimes.

"Forest- why the fuck did you write this?"

You know... I really don't know. I wanted to become a bio geneticist, and here I am. Writing about some bald guys' balls on the Internet. Siiigghh... anyway. Use this. however you want, I don't even care at this point.

[on-a-lucky-tide]

fun things to inflict on a pilot who bases his value on how useful he is to others:

temporary blindness >:3c

141 accidentally pierce an old mustard gas canister during an operation. Nik takes the brunt.

cw: injury, temporary blindness, distressed character.

Price paced up and down the base hospital ward wringing his hands as he waited for news, his heart in his throat. The mission had gone south so bloody quickly, and no matter how many times he retraced their steps, Price couldn't pinpoint the exact action that had caused such a monumental fuck up.

Old world war one bunker. Old old. The perfect place for a terrorist cell to store chemical weapons, or at least a lead to them. They had jumped early that morning with Nik because it was in east Germany and he had the knowledge they needed to break through the security systems. The USSR had used it as a base of operations during the Cold War, so without Nik, getting in would have been like chipping away at granite with a toothpick.

They got in. They secured the intelligence - no bloody weapons though - and were on their way out. A small detachment of enemy combatants had infiltrated through a different entrance that hadn't been recorded on the schematics they were working from. There had been an exchange of fire. A stray bullet caught a canister and...

Nik ignored the most fundamental rule of chemical warfare. You sort your own fucking mask first. But no, the stupid wanker grabbed for Gaz's first, because he was closest to the explosion and had only a split second to react.

Nik had been too slow with his own as a result.

Holding Nik in the casevac had been one of the most difficult experiences of Price's life. The skin lesions across his face had been like second degree burns, his eyes swollen shut, streaming. Anywhere there was moisture, the old gas had attacked. Despite the wounds, Price had seen the terror on his face as he tried to wrench the damp gauze off. He couldn't see.

"John, ya nye mogu videt! John... gdye ty? Gdye ty!" His usually calm, sombre voice, with its laid back drawl, broken and cracked in desperation.

In the end, Price had taken the decision to sedate him in the heli, one of those big hands clenched in his to keep him anchored as the drugs brought his heart rate under control and soothed his panic. He had lashed out at Gaz blindly - "otyebis ot menya!" - but between them they had managed to get the sedative into his thigh.

There were other wounds; bumps, scrapes, but none as serious.

"Sir, I'm sorry," Gaz had rasped, chucking the needle back into the bag. "This is my fault."

"No," Price had shaken his head. "Not your burden to carry. G'won, go eat somethin'."

The door at the end of the hall opened and the doctor summoned him with a flick of the head. "Well?" Price demanded, ignoring the pursed lipped irritation he got in return.

"It's temporary," the doctor said, his arms folding. "The gas was old, degraded. Still potent enough to cause damage, but with the right treatment, he'll get his eyesight back."

"How long?"

"Difficult to say. Four to six weeks for the skin lesions to heal. His body will decide on the rest... uh, captain," the doctor reached out a hand as Price tried to walk past, "there is a risk of long-term dyspnea, respiratory problems, awful stuff mustard gas, it attacks the central nervous system too, it can cause changes in mentation, and I understand from his file that he has a medical history of--"

"--I know what's in the file."

"We may be looking at more damage here than just his eyes. But only time will tell."

When Price stepped through the door, Nik startled, looking in his direction even though the heavy bandages over his eyes prevented him from seeing. Price spoke softly as he closed the door at his back. "S'just me, Nik. Easy."

Price nodded tightly, walked by and shouldered his way into the next ward. He found Nik's room but hesitated outside. Nik was awake. He was trying to grope around the table in front of him, searching.

"Captain, it is... well, I would say good to see you but..." He gestured vaguely at his head, his wry smirk shaky, and then that hand returned to patting around the table.

"Did they explain everything? Did you..." ...understand. Fuck, Price didn't understand half of the medical jargon, so he wouldn't be surprised if Nik struggled in his fourth language to parse what they were saying. Fourth out of eight. Asking felt like an insult to Nik's intelligence. The doctor's comment about mentation lodged in Price's throat like a shard of glass.

"Da. It will heal but there may be some future complications, I..." Nik suddenly slammed his fist against the table, anger twisting his mouth into a snarl, "..blyat, where is my phone? I need.." Nik's voice cracked and his chin tilted down with the shame of it, trailing off into miserable silence.

Price reached for him and tried not to let the resulting flinch shred his heart. Once Nik realised it was Price's hands and not whatever phantom his mind has conjured, he relaxed. Price sat down on the edge of the bed. "You don't need t' do anythin' but heal. We've got yer covered."

The way Nik's jaw twitched, teeth clenching at the back, his shoulders rising a little towards his ears; Price could see the clawing discomfort without needing to see his expression.

"You're gonna have to trust us, Nik. I need yer to trust me."

"I do," Nik croaked. "It is... This is not your burden to carry."

"Even if you weren't who you are, you still got injured in one of my operations."

"I let you down. And now I am useless." Nik's other hand clenched into a fist at his side, making the finger monitor creak under the strain.

"Temporarily out of commission. Not useless."

Nik turned his head away, refusing to hear it. They sat in silence, Price's thumb stroking back and forth over Nik's knuckles, giving him a point to focus on that wasn't his burning skin or the darkness of his vision.

"Nik, short of turnin' me over to Al Qatala, you could never let me down," Price said, finally.

Now was the time. Now Nik needed to hear it more than ever.

"You... mean the world to me. I..." he rubbed at his face, tugging at his whiskers, "...I love you. And when I saw you go down, my heart stopped for a second. The world stopped. Believe it or not, I was glad you were screamin' bloody murder in that chopper, cause that meant you were still here."

Nik drew a stuttering breath, but he didn't say anything. The man who had a one-liner or a bit of sass for every occasion sat in mute silence. It made Price ache in a way he never had before.

"'M not gonna abandon you, Nik. Wouldn't have even if this had been permanent. An' I know you don't believe me. I know. But... 'm gonna show ya. And you can grumble and cuss at me 'til the cows come home."

Nik's head fell back against the pillow and he sniffed, scowling with a muttered curse.

"You olrigh'?" Price squeezed his hand.

"Da. I am crying like little girl and it is stinging my eyes."

Price chuckled, patting their joined hands against his own thigh. "Soppy git."

That had to be a good sign. Tear ducts were what the eyes used to heal and maintain themselves, right? And he could feel the tears. Positive. This was positive. Price lifted Nik's hand to his mouth and kissed his knuckles, lingering there to feel the warmth of his skin.

Nik swallowed, his fingers tightening in Price's grip. "If I had known that losing my eyes would have earned me John Price, I would have cut them out years ago."

"Fuckin' 'ell, Nik," Price said incredulously, always somewhat taken aback by the intensity with which Nik expressed himself when it was just them. He sighed. "Yer've had me all this time. I just... I'm just not as brave as you are."

Nik huffed. "Bravo Six is the bravest man I know."

"Only for some things. Not feelin' particularly brave right now, and you're the one in the gurney."

Nik tilted his head towards Price, so desperate to see his face. Price was glad he couldn't. His damn eyes were watering. "Then, I will be brave for you. This, I can do without my eyes."

Price smiled and made sure Nik could feel it against his palm, promising him silently in that moment that he wouldn't waste a single second more of their time together on this bloody earth. "Sounds like a plan."

[bones4thecats]

Hi can I get a seperate scenario request where Cooler, Cell, and Whis have to help Fem reader with their sprained ankle, because they fell down the stairwell on accident. And F! reader just kinda looking around not knowing if she'd just broken a bone or not. (Note: Based on irl experiences, I just had something like this the 2nd time 😭)

Hope you have a good night by the way 💜

When Their Fem/GN! S/O Sprains Ankle

Characters: Cooler, Cell, and Whis Requester: @silkyshulks A/N: Holy crap, you sprained your ankle twice? That must be tough. I swear that I stub my toe or hit my head everyday, pretty sure I'm one more table-to-forehead thump away from brain damage, lmao. Anyways, hope you get healed up from your sprain and enjoy this! By the way, the Reader has no gender mentions in this! ⚠️ Spoilers/Trigger Warnings for: Spraining your ankle, maybe? ⚠️

Disclaimer: I have five requests left, let's hope I can get them done!

╔══════════════════════════════════════════╗

╚═════ Cooler ════════════════════════════════╝

🧊 You looked at Cooler and smiled. It wasn't a smile full of love, no this was one that you put up to make the other members of the Force feel freaked out

🧊 It was when you started going down the stars that you slipped and fell, causing you to hurt your ankle, but, as you were used to pain much worse than this, you looked around and up at Cooler, whom was panicking, wondering if you had broken anything

🧊 When he brought you to the ship's doctor, he was beyond angry that you had sprained the area between your foot and calf. He wasn't angry at you, he was angry at himself for allowing this to happen

🧊 The doctor handed you a medical note of everything you needed to do for the injury to heal; mainly just some rest, an ice-pack being placed on it from time-to-time, giving it a wrap of sorts to keep it from getting worse from moving, and getting it raised above your heart's level while resting

🧊 Cooler sighed as you shifted in your bed, not being used to having your ankle raised so highly. He grabbed a nearby ice-pack and placed it on your ankle, causing you to suck in a deep breath quickly before scoffing and looking away from your lover

"You don't have to be ashamed. Injuries happen to the best of us."

"Coming from the guy who didn't sprain their ankle in front of their lover and multiple members of the Frieza Force then having to keep it up despite having dealt with worse injuries than this."

"Are you done with your little tangent?"

🧊 He tries to stay around you as much as possible to make sure your injury would heal as quick and perfectly as possible. While he cannot always be there, due to some issues within the Force, he makes up for it all by sitting beside you with his head on your chest for you to slide your hands on while trying to cure your boredom

╔══════════════════════════════════════════╗

╚═════ Cell ═════════════════════════════════╝

🔬 This world that you both lived in was utter chaos. So getting injuries wasn't something to out of the ordinary for anyone, but for you? It was completely new

🔬 Cell always made sure that you stayed safe, keeping you from falling and injuring yourself multiple times. Hell, one time he was fighting someone and dashed to keep you safe from a boulder crushing you!

🔬 This time, he hadn't noticed you got injured because he wasn't there

🔬 Cell had gone out to deal with some humans and came back to find you wrapping your ankle and putting some ice on it, flinching and trying to keep yourself calm despite the obvious pain from the injury

🔬 You were shocked to see Cell kneel in front of you with a darkening expression, and you knew what he was going to ask you

"Who did this to you?"

"Nobody, Dear. I just fell down the stairs on accident and ended up spraining my ankle. It should be healed in about a week at most."

"Are you sure nobody harmed you?"

"Yes, Cell. I'm sure."

🔬 After that, he stayed by your side 24/7. You never suspected that the Bio-Android could be so clingy before this, but here you were, having him on his hands and knees for you

🔬 He always replaces your ice-pack, making sure there were always two. One being frozen while the other you could use so you didn't have to wait on some compression being added to your injury

🔬 Cell also may or may not have almost destroyed your stairs after the incident...

╔══════════════════════════════════════════╗

╚═════ Whis ═════════════════════════════════╝

😇 Whis values your health above all else. He knows that you're more susceptible to getting sick than him, so he always kept up-to-date with your symptoms, making sure you couldn't get to ill

😇 But this was an injury that he did not expect to happen

😇 Beerus and Whis had finally gotten to go to Earth after destroying a few planets about 7 galaxies away, and Whis was happy to get to finally see you again after nearly four weeks worth of destruction and traveling with Universe 7's God of Destruction

😇 He made his way to you door was confused why you didn't come right to the door when he gave the special knock you both made to let each other know it was you. So, after three tries, he opened the door was began looking around for you

"Y/N? Where are you?"

"I'm-uh, I'm over here, Whis."

"Oh my."

😇 You sat on the bottom stair of your home, your face had some light scuffing on it while your ankle's slight movements caused you to shiver and groan in pain under your breath

😇 Whis kneeled in front of you and laid his staff nearby your head, just within your grasp. He then picked up your leg lightly, draping the back of your knee over his thigh as he rolled up your pant leg to see your ankle

😇 He saw how your skin darkened at the marking around your ankle. It looked much like a bruise, but he had treated enough injuries dealt by Beerus and Goku to know that this was a sprain and not just a horribly-placed bruise

"Don't worry, love. I can get this fixed up in a mere second!"

😇 Motioning for his staff, you reached to your side and handed him it, to which he thanked you and laid your ankle back down on the ground, making sure your leg was laying straight and not bent from your knee

😇 He then allowed his staff to glow before he tapped it right above your injury, which caused it to slightly ache in pain before it went away. He had healed it in a mere couple seconds!

😇 Whis reached out for you, to which you grabbed his outstretched hand and pulled yourself back onto your feet. While your ankle did slightly pound from the pain, it wasn't as bad as before

"While it may look healed, you may want to put some ice on it and wrap it up if the pain gets worse, alright?"

"Yeah, thanks, Whis."

"No problem, after all, what kind of a boyfriend would I be if I let my S/O just writhe around in pain?"

[leon-stupid-kennedy]

Resident Evil: The Darkside Chronicles ➳ Archives ➳ Memories of a Lost City ➳ Enemies ➳ G

G Adult Body

A new kind of creature, born from an organism genetically rejecting the G-Virus. It's the result of forced, false reproduction on the part of the G-cells, destroying the host body and rendering it useless. The G Adult Body that was born out of police chief Brian Irons had a large left arm with an eyeball on it, a unique G characteristic. This creature will also reproduce G Young Bodies from its mouth. These are little reproductions of G with no ability to reproduce themselves.

G Young Bodies

Small organisms spat from the mouth of a G Adult Body. They squirm about on the ground and spring up and attack their prey. Individually they are weak, but when they attack in groups, they can be menacing. Killing them quickly is very important. G Young Bodies have no ability to reproduce.

First Form G

It is still evident by the left half of its body that this monster was once human. Its greatly swollen arm, and the lead pipe it wields in its hand can deal extremely deadly attacks, but perhaps because of its asymmetrical body, its movements are slow, and there are huge gaps between its attacks.

Second Form G

This is what has become of Dr. William Birkin, the creator of the G-Virus. As the virus takes over his body, the appearance of new organs, a phenomenon unique to G, is apparent. Its mutations have spread to include new bone and skin structures, and a whole new brain to go with its new head. Other mutations involve large claws growing out of the right hand, and a larger version of the eyeball on the right shoulder.

Third Form G

Further progression of G. It has grown two new arms and the larger, almost wing-like arms have moved to its back. Changes have also begun in the heart and other organs. As the virus spreads through muscles in the lower body, it becomes capable of moving extremely fast. As with its arms, it now has an eye on its left thigh.

Fourth Form G

After suffering a threat to its life in its third form, G heals its injuries while continuing its mutation to something far removed from its original form. It has become a beast that crawls on all four legs. Its agility has increased considerably, as demonstrated by its ability to run on walls and jump very high. After it corners its prey, it uses its head and chest, which have now morphed into a large jaw, to devour it.

Fifth Form G

Eating every living organism in its path, it mutates further into what appears to be a living hump of flesh and teeth. Its soft, malleable body allows it to squeeze through narrow corridors, and the remains of not-yet-fully-digested creatures can be seen. Its endurance and durability is on the same level as its fourth form, and it's difficult to inflict critical damage on it, even with heavy weaponry.

[lookinghalfacorpse]

hello

In what way do you think Dream is disabled/affected post-prison and if he does, what do you think he does to hide it?

permission to yap granted

this is what i do in most of my fics, so i have a good amount of content to go through. i could keep yapping, honestly, but i wanted to include the main things that cause my brainrot. gross pictures under the cut.

muscle atrophy. this happens quickly as the body enters starvation mode and begins to burn proteins. there would be a visible decrease in muscle mass, he would feel very weak and his limbs might tingle. recovery is possible, but isn't as easy as i think many people portray. the body is smart and will reduce its basal metabolic rate to adjust for a long period of starvation, and even after leaving the prison, his body would be primed and ready for another period of starvation. his body has learned that his environment doesn't provide consistent food. the body cannot 'reset' after a normal calorie intact resumes. the body keeps the score, or whatever they say. (i looked at a lot of pictures from 'the starvation experiment'. it lasted a little less than a year and was a setting where participants were carefully kept alive. most men lost 25% of their weight and only returned to their pre-study weight after 2 years of extensive treatment and therapy. u know cdream ain't seein a therapist. pictures under the cut)

quickened mouth decay / mouth dryness. on the topic of starvation, the mouth is actually one of the first places affected during a period of starvation. we don't make the saliva that we should when we aren't eating, and without saliva, the mouth begins to rot. this, along with fasting headaches, would be one of the first things he notices in the prison. it would be fixed pretty quickly upon eating normally.

seizures. many things can cause seizures to begin in someone who wasn't born with an epileptic condition, and dream's experienced most of them: starvation, head trauma, nerve damage, severe vitamin d deficiency, severe sodium deficiency, severe stress. these may decrease in frequency as he heals, but he'll be at greater risk if he fasts for any amount of time or if he's stressed. low-level muscle spasms are also going to be common.

impaired night vision/ decreased overall visual acuity. malnutrition does a ton of funky things, including to the eyes. he'd probably have a harder time adjusting to nighttime; i imagine returning to the prison is comfortable for this reason because he can control the brightness. hazy, eroded corneas are also common and might be visible to others. i put a picture under the cut. notice the green hue.

weakened immunity. like many others have mentioned, he will emerge from that cell with a paper-thin immune system. he'll be particularly weak to pneumonia and other respiratory diseases-- muscle atrophy also effects the muscles of the lungs.

essential tremors. just a fancy word for constant shaking. these could be psychological in nature, given the, you know, torture, but there are some links between malnutrition and tremors as well. he might try to hide it with weighted gloves.

improper amputation. "improper" is certainly a word for it, i know, but i want to emphasize that the kind of chop c!quackity would perform is nowhere near the level of a professional, surgical amputation. wearing a prosthetic would be very painful to say the least, especially if it isn't hand-crafted to suit his residual limb. i think cdream would probably try to endure that pain for the sake of hiding a major amputation, ie leg or arm, but i'm not sure he'd worry much about something like a finger. losing fingers doesn't affect grip strength as much as you might think, and i feel like thats all he'd really care about.

panic attacks, ptsd, memory loss, depression, hallucinations. just being locked in a single room for that long, let alone being tortured in it, would be enough for any of these symptoms. we have canon evidence for many of these, of course.

whatever other symptoms his injuries caused. depending on what tendons/muscles/bones quackity targeted, we might be looking at some different symptoms. i'm a big fan of concussion headcanons, and stiffness/immobility around scar tissue.

ultimately, i think the best bets for cdream as far as HIDING these effects are thick clothing, ill-fitting prosthetics, weighted gloves, moving in daylight, and avoiding confrontation. he'd probably want to prioritize mobility training to regain some dexterity and coordination, and to ensure that he can run away even if he can't fight.

^ eroded cornea

^ the starvation experiment

[cookie-crumblr]

The Smell of Smoke

Innocent F! Reader x M!Yandere Bully OC

Part 4~

His Info: 🖕✨

Part: 1 2 3 4 5

!!!MINORS DNI!!!

CW: !F reader, use of she/her when referring to reader, reader has a vagina, YANDERE, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, name calling (bitch,little slut ), BULLY, gagging, extreme violence against reader, branding, burning, oral on ml, spitting, choking, water boarding, p in v, breeding kink themes, collars (i think all above is still non-con) DRUGGING(SO SORRY I FORGOT OMG)

“Name’s Ace! by the way, I mean…” Ace fumbles with his fingers and his hair for an awkward amount of time before speaking again. “Um… Y/N…” He takes a deep breath finally deciding to get to his point, “Stay away from my brother. I mean— like— please!”

“I wasn’t trying to be anywhere near the guy, he’s just… everywhere.” You sigh.

“I… I know… You have to keep trying though! I-It’s not that he’s a bad person… He just…” He makes a motion to your damaged person to demonstrate what he’s trying to say. “Anyway, I’ll get ya outta here and home safe, but you have to promise me at least eventually that you’ll stay away from us.”

(Changes how the future parts of SOS will play out)

Ace’s warning did little to change your future. Your present…

You washed your face in the bathroom at school.

That was all.

All you did to deserve this.

Ezra holds your face under the faucet and painfully smushed against the porcelain.

He shoves you harder against it suddenly, it twists your neck.

“Take it, bitch.” He uses his other arm to motion something behind your back. “Hold her. You, strip her.”

Other hands take the place of his against your head.

You hear a flame, “N-No!No!NoNonoNo!” you babble.

“Shut her up.” He motions to them with his shoulder. His hands are occupied, holding a blow torch in one, and a brand in the other.

You shake and struggle violently against them, one stuffs something into your mouth, and another breaks your leg by kicking in your knee.

You scream into the gag, and that isn’t even the worst pain you’ll get to experience today.

Ezra presses the red hot metal to your, now still, lower thigh.

The agony is immeasurable.

It feels like an eternity, but

You black out from it instantly.

You aren’t in a hospital when you wake this time.

It’s more like…

A prison. or, a detention center.

Your leg is set right, and your burns are being properly treated. The environment could be cleaner, but you seem… Safe.

“He’s coming down,” some guys guarding the cells say as they get into position.

Ezra comes down the stairs, you can hear him before you see him.

“When’s she gon’ wake up”

“Not for another hour or so…” someone pipes up.

His foot thumps come closer and closer until, he’s within your bed’s upright position’s view.

“She looks awake t’me.” He takes the man’s skull in his hands and slams it into the glass. His face comes closer as if to say something—

“Wait!! Wait! Ezra!! I literally just woke up!! Don’t!” You jump to your feet and the monitors buzz and screech. Your leg hurts.

“Get in there and stop her.” He opens the door and throws the man in.

He lights a cigarette as he stares holes into you.

The other guys grab you and force you back into bed. the “doctor” quickly and effectively, sets everything back into place.

You don’t have any fight left to try anything.

Ezra gets them all to leave before coming in to see you up close.

He tilts your head up roughly and bends down to kiss you without saying a word.

You let it happen, too tired to resist, though a fire builds in your core.

It almost burns, and then, he pulls away.

“You’ll need time to adjust, and heal.” He says as he stands back up.

“Adjust?”

“Yeah. Like new schedule ‘n shit. You’re… Under my protection now.” He rolls up his sleeves, “You have t’ adjust t’ this too.”

“To wha—” His dick is shoved into your mouth, wetness pools from the intrusion.

Hands in your hair forcing your nose bent up, and pressing tight against his body.

You choke around his girth. “Your mouth already forgot about this cock, I’m hurt” He throws his head back as he starts to fuck your face. Only bringing it back down, to stare at your big watery eyes.

His scowl deepens as he fucks you harder. “Don’t waste any.” He spits on you, as he cums down your throat.

“Turn tha fuck around, bitch, and crawl.”

You do as you’re told, looking back at him a couple of times and catching his lingering glances.

“I’m only gonna give you my fingers right now, and you’re gonna cum f’ me. Gotit, bitch?”

You nod.

Your legs shake, as he starts to stroke your lips. his thumb is teasing your entrance while his two fingers pinch and glide over your clit.

“Mm ah!!” You cry out, the dull throngs of pain from your leg injuries adding to you’re pleasures intensity.

“Good little slut” He fucks you harder and harder with just his fingers on the outside and his thumb not even inside you. You come completely undone on his hand.

He buckles a thick collar with a leash around your neck and ties it around a metal post.

“Mmf, actually, I might cum in you again,” His voice is so much deeper and hungrier than you’ve ever heard in anyone.

“Hah! ahh! haah haa!” You moan in rhythm of his thrusts.

*plap plap plap plap*

He stripped completely naked to fuck you.

This man goes all out.

He’s holding you by your arms, and he shot you up with morphine.

Your body burns so bad and you don’t even know how many times you’ve came.

He pulls you to the edge of the bed and folds your legs to your chest and into a mating press.

“Don’t fuckin’ waste this—“ He thrusts in harder, “I don’t cum ‘n sluts”

“Oof!” He’s knocking all the wind from your lungs as he pounds into your womb. “hu-huh!?”

*Plap — Plap — Plap!*

“AH!!” Your body shakes, and at the same time he reaches for some duct tape nearby, as he pulls out he wipes himself clean and presses his cum back into you.

He then puts the strip of it right over your cunt.

“Don’t have too much fun with that, ‘n you better not get fucking pregnant, bitch.” He disappears out the doors again, and you’re left a high and confused mess.

[onlybeeewrites]

A Dance of Ash and Steel (2/ )

Pairing: Elara x platonic!Rhysand, Elara x Brother!Cassian, Elara x Eris

Word count: 4.2K

Summary: After Elara gets back home from the Autumn Court, she informs Rhysand on what happened. Both discover a curious choice made by the heir of the Autumn Court that leads to more questions than answers. 

Warnings: mentions of past abuse, blood, past injuries, nightmares, PTSD, general violence, sexism, stupid Illyrian males 

A Dance of Ash and Steel: Part 1

~~~~~~~~

It hadn’t taken Madja too long to help work on Elara’s wounds. The open cuts and slashes healed over easy enough, leaving some soft and pale against her tanned skin. Some smaller cuts would fade into the color as if no damage even occurred there. The bruises had faded off, the proper blood flow restoring the color back to normal.

Though some other of the injuries would leave lasting reminders of her lovely time in the Autumn Court; which truly was a shame considering Elara loved the Autumn time. The cool winds, the colors of the trees as they prepared themselves for the cold winters that were to come.

But even Madja could only heal so much. The physical wounds anyways. She wouldn’t be able to sooth what the damage had done in her mind. She wouldn’t be able to take away the images of those autumn court soldiers. Their faces. Their taunts that echoed and repeated. The struggle to keep holding on each day in hopes that she finds a way out of there. That she’d be able to find the strength to fight them off after being let on the brink of starvation and dehydration. Madja wouldn’t be able to heal that part of her. That dark corner of her mind that left her questioning who she was. That part she went to—

“Elara?”

A smooth, gentle voice pulled her out of the thoughts she didn’t realize that she was falling into. This always happened. The spiraling into her own thoughts. After a mission gone wrong, or in this case—her kidnapping and torturing for information. 

“Elara..”

The voice said again, and this time she blinked once. Twice. Swimming to the surface. Quickly trying to find her way to the top. Into the fresh aair and stop from sinking further into herself. Overanalyzing every choice she made while she was chained to the wall. Thinking about protecting her family. Her wings tucked in closer to her back subconsciously; impossibly tight. And then she did it. Reached the surface and blinked again. Once. Twice.

Her eyes refocused off of the wall she didn’t realize she was staring at. Elara blinked again as she looked where she was sitting, where she was. Who was in the room with her. No longer in that cell. No longer in the Autumn Court. Her eyes flickered to the window of the little study. When had it gotten late? How long had she been staring off?

Elara sat in one of the armchairs in Rhysand’s study, the flickering fire casting long shadows along the bookshelves. Right, She thought to herself, it was time to give Rhys a report on what had happened. To tell him everything she had seen and heard. To try and figure out why they had taken her in the first place, and to get to the bottom of what the hell they were looking for. 

Rhys sat across from her, his violet eyes unreadable, but flashed of concern flickered behind them. She could feel his power stretching, brushing against the edges of her mind—not probing, just waiting. He was always kind like that. Always let her start off first, especially when it came to hard assignments or for those that went wrong.

“They came out of no where,” Elara started after a minute, pursing her lips that were once cracked, split and bleeding. She had so much water and yet her mouth still felt dry. So dry. No water—no she had water. At the side table to her right. A class of cool water sat there untouched. And it remained there. Full.

Elara swallowed again before she continued. Rhys, patient as ever, remained quiet allowing her to speak, to continue at her own pace. Kind, Rhys was so kind. They were all so kind, her family. “I was patrolling the borders to make sure we had no one slipping in after the incident last month. I landed because I thought I spotted a fire near the borders our borders with the Fay Court. Turns out it had been a trap. I landed and…there was eight of them. I managed to take down half before they over took me..”

The memory of it replaying in her mind. The realization of it all hitting her too late before she could safely take off back into the air. It had started off with just three of them. She was so sure of herself that she could take just three soldiers. She’d been able to handle Illyrian males, so how hard could Autumn Court soldiers be? 

But then more came from the trees. Two more. Then three more. The next thing she knew she was surrounded by these soldiers. Each carrying swords, all closing in on her. She had managed to kill three of them before everything had gone dark. 

Elara remembered waking up that first day in the cell. Her wings were bound, her wrists shackled to the wall so they could only move a few inches forward. The cuffs cutting into her wrists already. And cold. So fucking cold. Cold and damp. And she remembered the first soldier that came into her cell to start questioning her. The sick sadistic grin in his face; and later seeing him dead on the floor. 

Thank you, Azriel.

The female Illyrian sighed, her wings shifting behind her uneasily before getting right to the point. She didn’t want to relive it any longer than she had to. She didn’t even want to show Rhys that part. Didn’t want to show anyone that. She wanted to tell him and just leave it.

“They were looking for someone,” Elara said, voice steady despite the lingering rasp from days without water. Her hands playing with a stray thread that frayed from the sweater Mor got for her. A soft deep green sweater and some soft black pants. Much comfier to wear comparing she had been wearing her torn leathers for three or four weeks straight. It was always nice to wear clothes that didn’t smell like blood and dirt.

Rhys didn’t react outwardly, but his focus sharpened. “Who?” His tone careful, but firm as he looked at the slightly younger female across from him. Patient as always. 

Elara shook her head. “They never gave a name. Or said one. Not around me. But the way they were speaking, I think they’re looking for a female. Beron’s soldiers kept pressing me for information—asking if I had heard anything in the Hewn City. If I knew where this female was.” She leaned forward slightly. “Whoever it is, Beron wants them first. Or wants a name. He’s paranoid and he’s afraid. That much I can tell,”

Rhys was quiet for a moment, fingers drumming once against the armrest. She could see the gears turning in his head, “Did they say why?”

“No. Just that it was urgent.” She met his gaze. “They think you know something. Or at least know where they are,”

Rhys exhaled slowly, his power coiling tighter around the room. “Which means it’s not just Beron looking. 

Elara shrugged, “I can’t say for sure. I don’t think so….i haven’t heard anything from Helion or Kallias or Thesan. If there was a concern from the other High Lords I would have heard of it by now.”

Rhys studied her for a beat before asking, “Alright. We’ll keep an eye on it for now. Let Helion know what happened on our borders. I’m sure he’ll be thrilled. Especially when it comes to his favorite Illyrian,” he said, the corner of his mouth turning up into a playful smirk, “Thank the Couldron you managed to get out of that cell..”

Elara hesitated for a moment. Debating on whether or not to tell him. And the words spilled from her lips before she even realized what she was saying. “I didn’t.”

His brows lifted slightly, a silent demand for her to explain. The playfulness disappearing from his expression, and something along the lines of concern replaced it. 

She swallowed hard. Knowing this would be going one of a few ways and finally got the words that struggled to come up her throat, “Eris let me out.”

The air in the room shifted, darkened, as if the very walls had tensed. The energy of the room shifted at the mention of the heir. The oldest of the Vanserra children. The cruelest some say. Heartless. Like a predator that enjoys watching its pray struggle before it finally makes that life ending bite at the neck.

Rhys sat back, his expression still carefully neutral, but she could feel the thoughts running through his mind. She could see him putting those handy High Lords skills, as Elara called them, to good use.

“Did he say why?”

“No,” she murmured. “Just that he ‘felt like evening the odds.’ He hadn’t come down at all either. That was the first and only time I’ve seen him the entire time I was there.”

Rhys let out a quiet hum, though there was no amusement in it. “Eris doesn’t do anything without reason.” His fingers drummed against the solid oak wood of his desk. Eh soft thumping filling the air.

“Trust me, Rhys. I know.” Elara’s fingers curled against her knee, gripping onto the soft cloth. Grounding herself there. She couldn’t let herself go back into those depths of her mind. Not yet anyways. “That’s what worries me.”

Rhys was silent, watching her closely. Then, his voice quieter, more careful, he asked, “Did it feel like a debt?”

Elara stiffened, replaying that moment in her mind—Eris standing in the dim torchlight, his face unreadable, his power crackling in the air between them. He had let her go. Had risked everything by doing it. And he hadn’t asked for anything in return. 

Not yet, at least.

Elara swallowed. “No,” she admitted. “It didn’t feel like a debt. Though I’m not sure to be fair I was pretty out of it..”

Rhys’s gaze didn’t waver. “Then what did it feel like?” He asked, pushing cautiously. But this was important. If Eris did get a favor? He’d be sure to cash in that favor from Elara when the proper time came. They all knew it.

She didn’t have an answer. And that, more than anything, unsettled her. But Rhys was looking at her—no. Not Rhys. Rhysand was looking at her. Her High Lord. And his eyes bore into hers, into her very heart and soul. 

But Elara didn’t know what it was that Eris left her with. She had been down there for weeks. And Eris hadn’t once come down to see her. To taunt or tease or mock like she was more than sure he would. The idea alone made her want to punch him in the face. Or have him meet Avisra. But he had done nothing. Teased and taunted her. And then let her go. 

Rhys sighed at her silence, knowing best to leave it at that. Knowing that Beron was paranoid, that they were looking for some female was good enough for now. Later on he’d be sure to ask if she’d seen anything else. Heard anything else. And perhaps peak inside her mind to make sure there was nothing she missed.

“Thank you, Elara. You should probably go get some sleep now. I’m sure you’re exhausted. We can talk more about it after you’ve rested,” Rhys said, giving her an assuring nod. Taking that as her queue to leave, she got to her feet and nodded, before leaving his study without another word. Words felt like too much right now.

The townhouse was quiet, the low hum of the city outside barely audible through the thick walls. The faint smell of the sea lingered on the breeze, and for a moment, Elara allowed herself to breathe deeply, trying to push the shadows from her mind.

She was safe.

She was safe and out of that cell. Safe and away from the Autumn Court. But the words kept circling in her head—they think we know something. They think she had the answers. Or she would know. But she didn’t. She had no idea who they were looking for. Why this female seemed to important to them. Why Beron seemed so paranoid. Afraid even. He had to be afraid if he were to go to such lengths

Elara rubbed her temples as she walked to the bed, her thoughts heavy, but exhaustion finally creeping in. Her limbs felt heavier and heavier. Her wings starting to droop behind her—Cassian would kill her if he saw she wasn’t lifting her wings. But she had to sleep.

The second her head hit the pillow, sleep over took her like an eager friend. But not a kind one.

Everything quickly shifted as sleep dragged her further and further under. The memories of the past several weeks refusing to be pushed aside, refusing to allow her a moments peace and seemed to resurface.

Her breath caught. The memories started as flashes—sharp, cruel images of the Autumn Court soldiers, their faces twisted with malice, the way their hands gripped her, how they tried to rip the answers from her. The cold steel of the bars, the weight of the chains that had held her. She could still hear their voices echoing, their threats, their twisted promises of what would come if she didn’t speak.

And then the shadows deepened. The cold dark pulling her further and further downward. Sinking its teeth into her flesh to keep her steady with it.

The cold air of the Illyrian camps swept in, and the distant sounds of the harsh winds of the mountain filled her ears. She could hear the crackling of the fires, the shouts of the warriors training, and in the distance—the cries of her mother. 

Her heart slammed against her chest. Her mother’s face, pale and bloodied, haunted her from the corners of her memory. The cruel punishments. The cruel work. The harshness of the camps, the brutal beatings, the relentless days of being pushed to the edge. Pushed. Taunted.

A sharp gasp tore from Elara’s throat as the images bled into one another. The soldiers in the Autumn Court had been cruel, but the scars left by the Illyrian camps—by those who had raised her—were deeper, more jagged. They all mixed together in a cruel kaleidoscope of memories she tried to ignore.  

Her mother’s wings. The way they had damaged them, the way her mother had never recovered from the humiliation, the trauma. The screams of pain Elara had never been able to forget. Ones she was grateful that Cassian never had to hear. 

It’s not real. 

Not anymore.

Her eyes bulged open then, waking finally from the cruel nightmare her mind decided to play that night. Elara stared up at the ceiling of her room while she gripped the blankets, her fingers digging into the soft fabric as her breath quickened. Her wings flexing, twitching and flinching as if she were ready to take off into the air right then and there.

She felt like the walls were closing in. The panic set in fast—too fast—and she couldn’t stop it. The room spun. The memories, the faces, the pain—it all collided. Building on and on. Continuing and never ending. Like a spiral staircase and Elara just keeps going down, down, down. Deeper into the grasp of darkness and cold.

But she couldn’t scream.

I can’t…

She shut her eyes, pulling the blankets tighter around her, trying to ground herself. She couldn’t let it take over. Not again. Not like last time.

Elara swallowed hard, trying to force air into her lungs, the panic clawing at her chest. It sank its claws into her and was refusing to let her go. 

Breathe. Just breathe.

Her mother’s voice echoed in her mind—calm, steady, even as she lay broken in that cold, cruel place. You’re stronger than this, Elara. Don’t let them break you. Never let them break you.

Her breath came in ragged gasps, and the memories mixed with the physical sensations of the torture. It was too much. It was always too much Too much. 

Elara forced herself to sit up, wrapping her arms around her legs, her breath shallow but steadying. She needed to get control, now. And quickly. 

Elara’s chest heaved, the air suffocating in that suddenly too small room. She pressed her hand over her heart, feeling it pound wildly as she fought for control. She fought for silence. She had to. 

She had already worried her brothers so much. It wasn’t her fault, that she knew. But it still didn’t stop the guilt that bubbled within her for worrying them. For worrying them all. And if any of them got a sense of this? Cassian would never let her be alone. 

Focus, she told herself, forcing her breathing to slow. Slow. In. Out. The words in her mind, each one a lifeline.

One… two… three… four…

She repeated it over and over again, matching the rhythm with her breaths. Slowly, bit by bit, her heart stopped pounding as fast, and the pressure in her chest eased, if only slightly. But it was something. 

The panic didn’t fully dissipate, but it was receding. The shadows of the past slowly loosened their grip on her mind. The present returned. She was in the townhouse. She was safe.

Elara squeezed her eyes shut, trying to banish the last remnants of the nightmare from her mind. She couldn’t let it consume her. She wouldn’t. She couldn’t afford to do that. She couldn’t afford to fall into the darkness of her own thoughts. Her mind. Her nightmares and anxiety. Not when she had a job to get back too. Protecting Velaris was more important than anything on this earth. 

But even as the panic ebbed, the ache lingered, the quiet terror of those memories still pressing against her ribs. She wasn’t sure she could ever escape them. She wasn’t sure she ever would. 

But for tonight, she would fight them. Alone, if she had to. But she was used to that. She knew she didn’t have to. She had her family. Mor. Rhys. Az. Cassian. Technically Amren but she wouldn’t listen nor really care.

Though this wasn’t new nor the first time that nightmares plagued her in these hours. Her heart returned back to his normal steady beat. Her hands still shaking like after shocks as she slowly laid back down. Turning on her side she watched out the window at the city that she loved so much. The city that she was entrusted with to protect her life with. And she allowed the city that she loved, to lure her back into sleep

A sweet, empty, quiet, sleep.

~~~~~

The next morning wasn’t much better. Neither was the next. And neither was the following day when Rhys told them they had to make a family trip to the Hewn City. Kier had apparently been causing some trouble. They all needed to go down to remind him of his place-Rhys mainly. It had been a while since they had all gone. But any time Rhys went, so did Elara.

So after everyone had gotten ready, they traveled down under the Moonstone Palace, deep under the mountain and to the Court of Nightmares

The Hewn City was a pit of shadows and deception, its very air thick with the scent of stone, smoke, and the sickly-sweet perfume of courtiers vying for power. The obsidian throne room gleamed under dim faelight, casting long, jagged shadows across the polished floors. It was a place of veiled threats and sharpened smiles—a place Elara had learned to navigate with her own blade-edged poise.

“You know I’m still not convinced you have to wear that. Can’t you just wear your leathers and siphons like me and Azriel? I don’t think it’s appropriate for the head guard to look like that,” Cassian complained to his sister, distaste and repulsion written shamelessly over his expression. 

Elara rolled her eyes they entered the throne room of the Court of Nightmares. One of Elara’s least favorite places to be. Cassian always did this. Every single fucking time. She didn’t care much for the clothes. She knew she looked hot. Everyone did. It was the dress code down there. Down in the Hewn City, Elara was still the highest guard in the room. Unfortunately, they didn’t take kindly to females in positions of power. 

So she had to make them listen. And one way to get males and people in the Hewn City to listen? Violence and sex.

So she did what she had to do. Just as they all did when they had to go down there. Playing into each of their own little roles they were given. Unforgiving. Unapologetic.

Elara glanced down at her attire for a moment, capturing. The clothes that had a mix of authority and allurement. It was a perfect combination for the lead guard of the night court.

She was dressed in a fitted black leather corset, the boning structured enough to highlight her figure while still allowing her to move with ease. The deep neckline exposed just enough skin to be daring but not impractical. A flowing sheer skirt, slit high on both thighs, billowed around her legs, revealing the sturdy black leather boots that laced up to her calves. Twin daggers were strapped to her thighs, their hilts peeking out just beneath the fabric. The sword at her hip gleamed under the dim light, a reminder that she was more than just decoration in this court of vipers.

Her hair, usually tied back for practicality, had been left loose, cascading down in soft waves, though two small braids had been twisted back from her temples and fastened with silver pins. A faint touch of makeup that Mor had insisted on dusted her eyes. Simple dark eyeshadow above her hazel eyes—all added together to provide her a sharp, dangerous edge. Mor insisted she looked hot, but she just felt like she smeared dirt on her eyelids. Though she trusted Mor’s judgment.

“We have the same conversation every time we come here, Cass. It’s just for a few hours. You really need to grow up,” she grumbled, “if I was a male I would but unfortunately they wouldn’t take me seriously if I wore your dress code.” Have said rolling her eyes as she glared at the courtiers around them.

The place smelled. Smelled of ill intentions. Of evilness. Of pain. Of fear. The males, particularly. It all reminded her too much of growing up with the Illyrians. All entitled to what they believe they earned—no, deserved. And she had a feeling Cassian and Azriel knew that too as she felt an assuring cool caress on her back; Az’s shadows. Always assuring. Always so kind and playful. With her at least. Probably because she wasn’t as obnoxious as her brother.

Elara could feel the eyes of the court on her. The savage hungry looks that reached out like grasping hands. For hunger. A hunger for lust. A hunger for blood. 

It didn’t matter.

As their family took their places around the Dias, Elara stood at Rhysand’s side, a sentinel draped in both allure and lethality. His personal guard here. She’d been called his guard dog by countless courtiers. But she didn’t care. As long as she wasn’t alone, they could call her whatever they’d like.

Elara kept her focus on Rhysand, who lounged in his throne. By now he had already scolded the court before demanding the music to play. Drinks flowed, music echoed, people danced, kissed, gossiped. Everything in between. Rhys was now speaking to Kier in that silk-lined voice of command, every word laced with subtle warning. Elara had moved to the bottom of the dias, keeping an eye out over the crowd. 

Then the air shifted.

A ripple of awareness moved through the court, whispers barely hushed behind jeweled goblets, beyond the music that echoed off the walls. Elara caught the flicker of movement at the far end of the chamber, the way the gathered nobility straightened, some stiffening in apprehension, others watching with intrigue. Many avoiding and shifting their gaze away.

And then she saw him.

Eris Vanserra strode into the room with all the effortless arrogance of a male who belonged in the shadows but refused to be swallowed by them. He was a vision of Autumn’s fire and ice, dressed in a deep crimson shirt, the open collar exposing the sharp lines of his throat. His long coat, black and gold, swept behind him as he walked, the embroidered flames along its hem flickering like embers in the low light. His short red-gold hair was neatly done, sweeping neatly to the right; allowing none of his features to be hidden.

His molten gaze swept over the room before landing on her.

Elara tensed, fingers flexing around the hilt of her dagger, ready—though for what, she wasn’t sure. But wherever Eris Vanserra was concerned? It was never good.

She watched as he stalked across the room, walking through like a predator before stopping right in front of her. Eris smirked, “Hello, Little Bird. You certainly are looking better than the last time I saw you,” he commented, allowing his eyes to rather shamelessly roam over her form before dragging them up to meet her hazel eyes.

She took a step forward. Swiftly she pulled her dagger out, lifting it so the very spark point of her blade was almost touching his throat. She glared to up at him. He wasn’t that much taller than herself, five or six inches or so. Regardless, she blocked his path before he could get any closer to Rhys. “The High Lord is busy,” she said smoothly, voice cold as steel. “Come back later and he might have time to speak with you,”

Eris watched with great amusement. Though not moving. Not even seeming afraid of the Illyrian blade that could easily slice his jugular with one quick swipe, or one wrong move. Instead, he tilting his head as if amused by the very idea of being turned away or being threatened by the shorter female.

“I’m not here for him,” he murmured, his voice low, teasing.

Elara brows furrowed slightly, but she didn’t let her confusion show. And instead remained silent as she continued to stare him down, waiting for him to continue. 

Eris took another step closer. The blade pressing into his neck a bit more now, not enough to draw blood but almost. But now he was close enough that she could catch the faint scent of embers and cedarwood. His scent alone caused her head to spin.

Eris continued to smirk down at her, almost as if he knew. Knew that his actions kept her up at night. Pleased to know he had this sort of effect on the female.

“I’m here for you, Little Bird,”

[deusvervewrites]

Oracle Cell: Since we already have an God Arc for Eri, the BFS/BFG combo, I'd like to suggest a Short Sword/Shotgun combo with Medium shield for Himiko and a Long sword/Sniper with Tower Shield for Midoriya.

For Midoriya it would emphasize his analytical mindset with the Long sword having, a built in gun mode for close combat, A sniper for having understood the Aragami's weakpoints using the appropriate ammo, and the tower shield for his willingness to take big hits and keep going. His most used Ammo Type would ironically enough be the Healing Ammo.

For Himiko, it would work well with her Quirk and her natural agility. Short sword for agile, flexible combat with Shotgun to keep her in the thick of the fight and a medium shield in case she really needs to block something.

If anything, Himiko, Eri and Izuku work exceptionally well together because they cover each others short comings.

Eri does BIG HEAVY DAMAGE, but takes a bit to get her Cannon reliable.

Izuku helps with identifying the parts that Eri can hit to quickly deal with the Aragami, while also providing covering fire when able.

Himiko basically dances making sure the Aragami is focused SOLELY on her, dodging and weaving between attacks always in BURST mode because she NEVER LETS UP.

And since the games operate with four-person squads this works out really well

[toasttt11]

worse

April 28, 2025

It was the sixth playoff game in the first series and Penguins have won two so far. Kensington was having some great games in the games so far.

Kensington asked her family not to come out for the first round and come out if that make it two the second and her friends were all busy with the school year ending soon they couldn’t join anyways.

It was halfway through the third period and the teams were tied 2-2 and Kensington had just scored the last goal tying them back up during her last shift.

She looked up as she took the pass from Sidney when she suddenly felt the other team player slam into her but more importantly they slammed into her bad knee, she quickly crumpled to the floor and instantly she was groaning out in excruciating pain, it was completely worse than the first time it was injured.

Kensington was on her side and curled in to a little ball, holding her knee to her chest, whimpering out in pain as she felt so much pain in her knee, more than she has the whole time it’s been injured.

Sidney and Braden both quickly rushed over to her as well the penguins trainers, everyone on the team knows about her injury and they can see her holding her bad knee.

Kensington looked up with teary eyes and shook her head, she knew she wouldn’t be playing any longer.

The trainer had Sideny and Braden help her up again and she had all her weight on her good leg, her bad knee not even close to touching the ice. She wrapped her arms around the two and they both wrapped an arm around her back helping her stand.

They slowly helped her get of the ice and down the tunnel. Luckily they were playing at home so they had there full medical staff, Kensington was helped down the tunnel and in to a medical room and in to the medical bed.

Sidney and Braden both wanted to stay and be by her side, “Go, go win the game.” Kensington croaked out barely being able to open her eyes from how much pain she was in.

They didn’t win the game and the Penguins were out from the playoffs.

Kensington had gotten helped changed out of her uniform and equipment and they took her into the MRI, the medical team shared a uneasy look seeing how bad the knee had gotten from that hit, they knew surgery was now needed and as soon as possible.

Kensington was staring at the celling devastated as she knew her knee was worse she could feel how bad it was and she had just gotten out of the playoffs for the first time.

She looked up as the door opened and the doctors walked in with hesitant looks on their faces and Kensington felt dread fill her stomach as she knew something was bad, something bad with her knee.

“Tell me.” Kensington politely demanded she wanted to get it over with, she knew nothing good would be coming from them and she prepared for the worst.

“Your tear is still there and it has gotten worse, but you also damaged more in your knee. Kensington you have a grade 3 tear in your ACL and MCL. You’ll need surgery as soon as possible.” The doctor gravely told her.

“How long will i be out.” Kensington desperately questioned as she realized she know how three different tears in her one knee.

“At least four months up to six months depending on how it heals.” The other doctor sadly told her, “We can schedule your surgery for tomorrow morning we just need your consent.”

“Do it.” Kensington quickly agreed knowing the sooner she gets the surgery the sooner she can heal up.

The doctors left the room giving her some space.

One of the team members had gotten her personal items and brought her to Kensington, she grabbed her phone and saw hundreds of texts and she knew everyone saw her fall and were definitely texting her very worried.

She ignored everything and clicked on her mom’s contact, for the first in months she was calling someone else and not declining someone else’s call or face time, she held the phone up to her ear waiting for her mom to answer.

“Sunny!” Ellen quickly answered the phone and had four pairs of eyes on her all just as worried for Kensington.

Jack, Luke, Jim, Quinn and Ellen were all at home in Michigan watching her game together and had been worried like crazy since they saw her fall and get helped off the ice.

“Mama.” Kensington felt herself tear up at her mom’s voice, “I really need you to come here.” Kensington knew she couldn’t hide this any longer and she needed her family.

“Of course we will be out as soon as possible.” Ellen quickly assured just wanting to see her daughter, “Sunshine are you okay?” Ellen heard the wavering in her daughter’s voice.

“No. No I’m not okay.” Kensington whispered out, she hadn’t been okay in along time, “I’m getting surgery tomorrow.”

“Oh my sunshine.” Ellen covered her mouth knowing it has to be bad to get a surgery that quick, “We will be there okay.” Ellen reassured her.

“Thank you Mama.” Kensington sniffed blinking her eyes to keep her tears in.

“And uh could you tell Will please.” Kensington whispered softly she knew she needed Will just as much even if she felt like she didn’t deserve to ask for him to come with how she’s been treating him.

“I will.” Ellen hummed she knew she would tell Will, Ryan and Gabe and they all would be coming out as well, “I’ll see you tomorrow my sunshine i love you.”

“I love you too mom.” Kensington whispered back.

[dynamic-k]

I don't actually know why I'm doing this, but oh well.

This is for Super Sticks. I love your fan fiction by the way, ITS AWESOME!!! :D

This idea kind of came to me in the middle of the night, and I'm not sure why but like:

Vic is an alchemy genius right? And he made something that could help with Hazard's gene problem thingy.

Agent Smith had a leg problem. Despite not having powers, he had proven himself to be an invaluable stick in his time at rocket.

I was thinking, it would be really interesting to see the mercenaries (although not really in super sticks) together. Like, how would they interact with each other? How would they function as a team?

I'm getting off topic xd

Ballista is currently a hero, so it would make sense for the team to be on the hero side, right? I think Primal and Hazard could do it, but Agent can't, due to his left leg being uhh... yeah.

I know it said in Arc 2, that Agent would still have a bad leg: 'Agent being a total badass even with one bad leg', but what if Vic made something to help Agent??? Maybe with Blue as well, if it was another potion...

Having the team helping with hero-ing might help Chosen, Dark, and Second, with all the new villains and such.

idk. i kind of made like an entire au of super sticks, where one small positive thing lead to a whole villain arc XD. The stuff above is just something that happened to pop up in my brain when i was supposed to do homework-

Yeah, I'm just going to stop now.

-R

[*muffled happy crying into pillow noises*]

AHHWBQJAHKRQAV THANK YOU!!

Vic is indeed an alchemy genius, and he did make immunity supplements. Hazard's usage of his powers always hurt him because his S.P.I. (self-power-immunity) cells were mutated and didn't work properly, so the S.P.I supplements that Vic designed for Hazard were to replace the failing cells. Multiple supplements will have to be taken to keep up the stockpile of good cells.

I have been meaning to include some mercenaries' bonding moments somewhere in Arc Two, or perhaps as a Bonus Feature! I just... Haven't yet figured out where in the timeline I want stuff to be placed yet-

It's so cool you've come up with your own little spinoff AU! I am very intrigued, hehehe

:D Agent is a hero at heart, bad leg neverminded. And I do have a very specific badass Agent scene broiling around in my brain since before Arc One was even completed- XD

In all technicality, Agent's leg is full healed... Except uhh

See, there's nerve damage. Agent's leg was rotated around completely backward and while the emergency surgery corrected it quickly afterward, there's a lasting numbness and mild pain flareups to be suffered from there on out. It may eventually go away after several years, but for now, it stays.

Plot wise, I never planned for Vic to miraculously come up with some solution or fix-it for Agent's leg, even though he is very smart in problem curing areas and alchemy. (This may change, I dunno. My brain is a little bouncy on unfirmed ideas-)

Vic straight-up invented those supplements, came up with a whole serum that mimicked those cell properties, to stand in as a viable substitute. And it took him a very long time to perfect it. It would probably take an equally long time, or even longer, if Vic were to attempt making something for Agent. And uhhh, he can't exactly experiment hands-on in the comfy confines of his current jail cell, can he-

Ballista and Hazard have already canonically been doing hero work in Arc Two's time, and our three Ladybug hollowheads are aware of it, though they haven't yet met Hazard in person. Agent reopened the Rocket Hero program that Vic had abandoned in Arc One, so yeah.

Primal will eventually hop onto the program, I'll say that much, but for nowwww.... The situation is complicated. And I have some plans to help complete her redemption arc. Arc One left things a little ambiguous and incomplete on purpose, hehe

"idk. i kind of made like an entire au of super sticks, where one small positive thing lead to a whole villain arc XD." Color me intrigued! :D I love spinoff AUs~

No wait- Don't stop- I was enjoying the ramble- /silly

[smallhorse]

The Science of the Serum

Allow me, if you will, to put some science into the science fiction of the marvel cinematic universe.

the shield super soldier serum functions as an imperfect non sentient symbiote

it’s a unique blend of cells that requires a host to survive, when it enters into the system of the host, it immediately starts taking over and in a series of rapid cell multiplication and deletion, starts to make things better by replacing the old cells with the serum enhanced cells

however the cell replacement is imperfect in that it replaces healthy host cells fine, replaces its own cells very well, but damaged tissue is difficult for the serum to recognize and replace to optimum functionality

Steve had weak muscles but they were healthy muscles and therefore they were able to be enhanced by the serum, it took longer for his lungs to operate at full capacity but Steve had medication to assist the function of his normal lungs and so between the medication and the serum they were able to get those lungs up and running pretty quickly

Now what about damaged/imperfect cells that don’t heal on their own, even with the super soldier serum? This treatise posits that they remain the same in that the super soldier serum cannot determine how to fix these cells and so it settles with imitating the cells to the best of their enhanced abilities

Operating under this assumption, it can be inferred that the scars that Steve had pre-serum stayed with him after the serum was introduced into his system

Insert a transition sentence here!

Prior to the sleek vaccine system we know and love involving a singular needle depositing the vaccine intramuscularly, the vaccines, specifically the smallpox vaccine in this case, that were in use around the time when Steve was wandering around being all pre-serum and adorable were administered through scratches into the superficial layers of the skin created by multipronged lancets

As such, anyone who received the small pox vaccination were left with a distinctive scar on their arm

So obviously Steve was like what’s this something to make me less sick? Sign me the fuck up and of course he drags Bucky along and then a half hour later they’re walking out of the clinic with perfectly circular wounds on their left biceps

Of course they laugh: chicks dig scars! need me to kiss it better? I'll give you a lollipop if you don't cry this time. and these little scars that they share feel more like badges of honor, brotherhood, and love than they feel like representations of their inoculations

Now when Steve rescues Bucky from hydra imprisonment Bucky is obviously thrilled to see him but also he’s never seen Steve like this before, he finally has the physical presence that is attitude always needed and now it’s like he’s transformed. Bucky always knew Steve was brave but seeing him in battle is this cognitive dissonance that he can’t really get over for a while.

That is until one night they’re sleeping rough with the commandos camped out in the middle of nowhere and they get shoved into the same tent because dammit Steve snores and Bucky is the only one who can sleep through it and so they’re lying together, Bucky trying to find a way back to his friend that suddenly he doesn’t feel like he knows any more

Bucky is running his fingers over the new Steve just trying to familiarize himself with this new body when he feels that little nickel sized depression in Steve’s skin and by god it’s night out and he can’t see a damn thing but Bucky would know that scar anywhere in the world because he has the exact same one. And so their matching scars become almost a talisman to remind them of who they were and who they are to each other. 

Months go by and hydra is pleased with the success of their brain washing, they’ve almost got the asset convinced he’s all machine, there’s back slaps and congratulations all around but it had nothing to do with those shoddy scientists. Bucky wasn’t Bucky anymore when he reached for that little dimpled scar on his arm and felt only cold smooth metal. he wasn’t Steve’s Bucky anymore. he wasn’t Bucky anymore. He wasn’t anyone anymore. he was only ready to comply

[mysticwolfshadows]

Taken - Zutara - Part 72

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When the fight is over, Azula chained to a grate, Katara wastes no time rushing to Zuko's side. He's still twitching, little sparks flying off of him.

She doesn't hesitate to reach out. She feels the residual energy jump up her arm, but refuses to let herself pull away. Water coats her hands, glowing as she presses them to his chest. Her eyes close, concentrating on healing Zuko. Dread chilled her to the bone.

The lightning had damaged his already weakened heart. It was beating erratically, on the verge of stopping all together. Desperate, she reached for the pendant that had hung around her neck for months. It was a miracle it had survived this long.

Pulling the cork, she pulled the minuscule amount of water out. It shone brightly, swirling above her palm faster and faster. Praying to every great spirit she could think of, she pressed it to the wound on Zuko's chest. It shined bright, before fading, and she quickly pressed her ear to Zuko's chest.

A steady beat.

"Katara?"

His voice is hoarse, and she jerks back to look at him. He's squinting, like it hurts to open his eyes too much.

Unable to stop herself, she grabs his face, and pressed their lips together. He made a small pained noise in the back of his throat, and she felt one of his hands come up to grasp at her sleeve.

Nearby, someone cleared their throat.

Pulling back, Katara found the sages and Aang standing awkwardly nearby. Feeling her cheeks heat with embarrassment up, Katara snasp at them.

"Help me get the Fire Lord up," she orders, shifting to get an arm under Zuko's shoulders. He's blinking slowly, eyes unfocused like he wasn't sure where he was. "And get him inside. We'll reschedule the coronation for tomorrow."

The sages looked at each other, before quickly moving to do as she ordered. People were starting to come back into plaza, and Katara turned to search the crowd. Her eyes landed on Lieutenant Jee.

"Jee," she called. The man immediately snapped to attention. "Spread the word. Azula has lost to me in an Agni Kai, and is stripped of her honor for her disgrace under Agni's light."

There were a few gasps, and Jee rushed to spread the word. Everyone would need to go home. It was clear that the non-Fire Nation people had even less idea of what was happening, but General How and Pakku directed them away. The Southern Warriors left at Bato's order, leaving her father and the Gaang standing with her in the courtyard.

Off to the side, they could hear Azula screaming and crying.

"What do we do about crazy?" Toph asked. "Prison with Ozai?"

Katara turned, watching Azula crying herself hoarse. She couldn't bring herself to feel anger. Instead, she saw pity for a girl that could one day be her sister.

"Something's wrong with her," Katara said. "She's... not well. Like she's been stricken with some kind of madness."

"So she's actually crazy?"

"Toph," Katara sighed, shaking her head. "Either way, we can't do anything other than put her in a cell until Zuko is crowned. He'll have to make a decision."

She didn't mention that, by winning on Zuko's behalf, she technically had the right to decide Azula's final fate at the moment. Instead, she just nodded to a pair of Jee's men, who would move Azula to her temporary home. The firebender screamed as they carried her away, grate and all, but the fight seemed to have drained out of her.

"Is he alright?" her father asked, instead. He glanced towards the palace, soldiers beginning to stand at the main entrance. "If I could, I'd like to see him."

Katara frowned, turning to look at her father again. "Why?"

"Probably that kiss," Sokka said, making a face.

Shit. "You... saw that?" Katara asked.

Her father nodded, face grim. "I did."

"What are you planning to... say to him, when you see him?"

"Things any father would say to his daughters boyfriend."

She didn't have the heart to tell her father that she didn't know if they were a 'couple'. They had been putting off that talk while the war was going, and it had been a busy couple of days.

Instead, she nodded, and hoped she would get a chance to speak to Zuko first.

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[tanadrin]

As we age, it is almost as if we suffer a curse; every single thing in our body seems to work less well over time, and once we hit old age, it all seems to start breaking down rather quickly. Everything from how well we heal from injuries, to our immune system, to our senses seems to start falling apart at once.

As I understand it, the evolution of aging is the result of an almost accidental trade-off between reproductive fitness in the short term, and consequences for the individual member of the species in the long term. For instance, you have animals like octopuses and salmon who mate once then die, usually producing many hundreds of offspring. This is because lots of small cumulative adaptations that helped reproduction in the short term had negative consequences for the individual in the long term--but because these animals got so good at making that first reproductive opportunity really successful, the cost for fewer future opportunities to reproduce was (in terms of reproductive fitness) small. And over time their ancestors leaned harder and harder into this strategy.

Humans obviously aren't anywhere near that specialized. Our offspring are normally one at a time (and multiples are very high risk) and require a lot of care. Like all mammals, we nurse and look after our young. But there's still a degree of evolutionary tradeoff; base rates of disease and accident still make betting on reproductive opportunities too far in the future a losing proposition, and the act of giving birth is itself very dangerous for women, so it makes sense to still somewhat front-load our reproductive opportunities, and if we survive for a long time, to transition to a more supportive role for other members of the community (as indeed some hypothesize is the reason menopause evolved in the first place; but note male fertility also declines with age, even though there's no exact male equivalent to menopause).

So deleterious mutations that affect us mostly in our old age, or adaptations that come with a benefit in the short term, and with a high cost in the long term, probably built up in our genome for the same reasons that they did in that of octopuses and salmon, just in a less dramatic way. And so it makes sense that when we age, lots of things tend to go wrong. Aging isn't the product of a single process of system; it's the product of many systems in our bodies breaking down, because they have a degree of planned obsolescence built into them. This is why we shouldn't expect anti-aging interventions to be big dramatic breakthroughs that suddenly fix everything. We have lots of problems to deal with when it comes to "curing" aging, from shortening telomeres and waste products building up in our cells to UV damage to the eyes and loss of bone density, all from different sources.

Despite the image we may have absorbed from science fiction, longevity doesn't look like a single treatment that could easily be monopolized and sold at $100,000 a dose. It looks like hundreds of little things, many of which we're already working on quite diligently and making small-but-important breakthroughs in, and in areas where advances often go from "experimental and possibly very expensive" to "routinely available" in a couple of decades. And this makes sense too! Public health authorities and insurance companies have a vested interest in these advances--a treatment that improves the survival rate for a kind of cancer or helps to prevent heart disease means they have to pay less in more drastic, more expensive medical treatments down the line.

[bethanythebogwitch]

Godzilla biology and history

(Monsterverse inspired, but incorporates the Toho movies and adds some non-Godzilla kaiju).

Godzilla (Gojira colosseus) is indisputably the most well-known example of interior earth hyperfauna (colloquially referred to as kaiju or titans) and the most influential and controversial kaiju known to man. Three individuals of this species are known, referred to as Godzilla I, II, and III. G. colosseus is an apparent reptilian organism with a superficial resemblance to theropod dinosaurs, though the species displays multiple non-reptilian traits including external ears, gills, endothermy, and three rows of bony plates that occur in the back and tail as extensions of the vertebral column. Godzillas also have a more upright stance than theropods, with tails that drag along the ground. While determining the genetic relationships of hyperfauna has proven difficult with the limited data available, G. colosseus is speculated to be related to other known species including Titanosaurus amphibious (Titanosaurus), Gorosaurus asperacutus (Gorosaurus), and Gojiramimus piscovoria (Zilla).

As with other hyperfauna, Gojira colosseus is capable of deriving nutrition from radiation. While it evolved to feed on interior earth radiation, nuclear radiation is also used as a food source. As with other hyperfauna, Godzilla will supplement its radiation diet with other food sources. Godzilla has proven to be an obligate carnivore and will consume other kaiju or whales. Godzillas are amphibious, capable of surviving both on land and in water due to possessing both lungs and gills. The species spend most of their time in the water, only occasionally coming to land. While underwater Godzilla will swim by propelling itself with its tail or walk along the seafloor. An adult Godzilla can reach up to 120 meters in height and is enormously strong even for a creature of that size. Godzillas are also highly intelligent, capable of recognizing individual humans, quickly formulating strategies in battle, some tool use (usually limited to using objects as bludgeoning weapons), and commanding subordinate kaiju. The species possess secondary brains located near the pelvis that control much of the bodily functions and muscular activity of the body, leaving the primary brain free to focus on more complex thought. If either brain is damaged, the other can take over its functions. While the strength and intellect of G. colosseus are vital when battling, another major advantage the species has access to regenerator-g cells. Found in no other species, regenerator-g cells are a poorly-understood variant of stem cell capable of rapidly specializing and replacing damaged or missing cells. The regenerator-g cells grant Godzilla rapid healing, even by the standards of kaiju. It is speculated that a Godzilla could even regenerate a brain as long as the other remained intact.

As with many other species of hyperfauna, Gojira colosseus possesses an internal organ known as the Yamane organ that functions as a biological nuclear reactor. This organ provides Godzilla with a supply of radiation while it is away from sources of interior earth radiation. This is a temporary solution and any Kaiju will need to access a source of interior earth radiation avoid starvation in the long term. G. colosseus has evolves to weaponize its internal radiation in the form of a stream of superheated, ionized particles released from the mouth, commonly known as atomic breath. This stream can appear either as a solid beam or a cloud of vapor and glows blue due to Cherenkov radiation. In rarer cases often after absorbing excessive radiation, a Godzilla will produce a stronger red version of the atomic breath (the red spiral ray), or will release a cloud of superheated, ionized particles in an expanding radius around it, known as the nuclear pulse.

Gojira colosseus is known to be territorial and highly aggressive when provoked. The species is known as one of the few alpha species, kaiju which can force other kaiju to submit to and follow them, often after a battle for dominance. Other known alpha species include Gigatinea mosura (Mothra), Titanopithecus kongii (Kong), and Hypertestudine pyrovoria (Gamera). While nothing is known about how adult Godzilla interact with each other, the species has been observed practicing parental care (albeit only one instance of an adult and juvenile interacting has been observed) and both Godzillas II and III had formed alpha-subordinate relationships with other kaiju. Godzilla II and III had shown stronger bonds with some subordinate kaiju than others, most notably with Angilosaurus spinatesta (Anguirus) that some researchers suggest is indicative of possible bonds beyond the simple alpha-subordinate relationship, possibly indicating something recognizable to humans as friendship. Godzillas have also been known to temporarily ally with other kaiju species that do not submit to them as alphas, most notably Godzillas II and III with Mothra. While G. colosseus has many characteristics of an apex predator, the species are known to have been attacked by Titanus muto (Muto) to be used as hosts for their eggs and by Titanopithecus kongii (Kong) in apparent battles for dominance. In both cases, it is speculated that groups of those more social species would collectively attack individual Godzillas. As the interior earth ecosystem is in the process of recovering from an apparent mass extinction, it is difficult to gain some information about the relationships of certain species.

Godzilla I was the being that introduced humanity as a whole to the existence of kaiju. While paleontologists had begun finding fossil evidence of hyperfauna, nobody expected that such creatures could still be alive until one made landfall in Japan in 1954. Why Godzilla I chose to attack humanity is a matter of speculation, though it is believed that nuclear weapons testing in the Pacific Ocean woke it from hibernation and it may have interpreted the blasts as an attack. Regardless of its motives, Godzilla I traveled from the ocean to Tokyo, attacking islands and ships along the way. The attack was unprecedented and the JSDF had no effective way to respond as conventional weaponry proved ineffective. The answer came from scientist Dr. Daisuke Serizawa, who invented a weapon known as the oxygen destroyer, which utilized a chemical called micro-oxygen to break down molecular bonds in biological matter. Dr. Serizawa discovered micro oxygen in fossils later discovered to be constituent organisms of the colonial kaiju Destoroyah infernalis (Destoroyah). A survivor of the nuclear bombing of Japan at the end of World War II, Dr. Serizawa chose to keep the existence of micro-oxygen secret, fearing it could be used as a weapon even more terrible. In the end, Dr. Serizawa was convinced to use the oxygen destroyer against Godzilla I, but he destroyed his research and committed suicide to prevent the weapon from ever being recreated. Godzilla I was reduced to a skeleton, killed along with all other life in the Tokyo bay area. The ethics of Dr. Serizawa’s destruction of his research has been debated considerably since then. Certainly the oxygen destroyer could have caused immense devastation to humanity and the environment as a whole, but it could also have been a potent defense against other kaiju. Perhaps if Dr. Serizawa had known Godzilla was not the only one of its kind, he would have made a different decision.

In the aftermath of the attack on Japan, the world debated what to do. The creature was named Gojira after a storm god worshipped by the natives of one of the islands it attacked. English language reports mistranslated the name as Godzilla, which has become the accepted name for the species outside of Japan. Scientists were at a loss to explain how such a large creature (50 meters) could support its own weight or acquire enough food to sustain itself. The answer many arrived at was that the creature was originally a mundane animal, often speculated to be a marine reptile or late-surviving dinosaur, that was mutated by exposure to radiation from nuclear testing. Many believed, even hoped, that Godzilla was a lone freak of nature. Those hopes were dashed when, over a year later, a second, even larger (100 meters) Godzilla appeared and engaged in a battle for dominance with Anguirus. This battle marked a turning point in world history: the realization to mankind that we are not the uncontested masters of the world and that monsters are real. 

In response to the appearance of Godzilla II, multiple government organizations were founded to study and respond to the threat posed by hyperfauna. The most notable of these are the Japanese G-Force and USA's MONARCH. Godzilla II was active around the Pacific Ocean until 1995. It engaged in primarily territorial battles or battles of domination against many other kaiju in that time, causing considerable damage to human lives and property in that time but defeating other kaiju that could potentially have caused far more damage. Indeed, on several occasions, G-Force was forced to deliberately lure Godzilla II into combat with Kaiju posing a more immediate threat. While Godzilla I was actively hostile to humanity, Godzilla II seemed more indifferent to us. It made no attempt to actively attack humans, but also took no care to avoid human casualties during its activity. In 1993, G-Force agents began exploring an uncharted island that showed higher than expected levels of radiation (later discovered to be a wellspring of interior earth radiation) and discovered an egg. This egg eventually hatched into an infant Godzilla. The infant bonded with biologist Azusa Gojo, who took on a parental role to it while G-Force leadership discussed what to do with the kaiju. A significant fraction of G-Force believed killing the infant before it could become a threat was the best course of action. The choice was taken out of their hands when a Rodan (Volcaptera rodan) arrived on the island and attempted to attack the infant, likely in an attempt to kill a potential rival before it could mature. While G-Force agents stationed on the island attempted to drive off Rodan, Godzilla II arrived, apparently responding to a bioacoustic distress cry from the infant. Godzilla II quickly drove off the Rodan and began to care for the infant. G-Force decided that the risk of angering Godzilla by killing its adoptive child was far too great to take and began passively monitoring the situation. Both parent and child remained on the island, nicknamed Birth Island. Within two years, Godzilla III had grown to approximately 50 meters tall, a similar size to Godzilla I, which has led to speculation that Godzilla I was also a juvenile. Despite their similar size, the two individuals had very different behavior. Presumably, III’s bond with humans, particularly Azusa Gojo, led to it becoming much more trusting of humans and even protective of them. A similar example of exposure to humans as an infancy leading to benevolent behavior was observed by MONARCH in Zilla II. As it aged, Godzilla III began to become more independent of its parent. 

In 1995, multiple attacks on humans and animals by an unknown subkaiju in and around Tokyo attracted the attention of G-force. Victims of this attack were reduced to skeletons and it was determined by G-force that the deaths were identical to the effects of micro-oxygen. At first it was thought that someone had recreated Dr. Serizawa’s oxygen destroyer, but the truth was soon determined to be different. The subkaiju were in fact utilizing micro-oxygen. These subkaiju were determined to be colonial organisms made of countless smaller organisms working together and soon joined together to form the kaiju Destroyah, a living oxygen destroyer in the form of a monster. At the same time, Godzilla II was undergoing a meltdown as a result of a battle with the G-Force's Mechagodzilla weapon. This meltdown greatly enhanced Godzilla’s strength and the power of its atomic breath, as well as dramatically raising its body temperature. However, if not stopped, the meltdown would not only eventually kill Godzilla, but result in a nuclear explosion more powerful than any nuclear weapon ever created by humanity. This would result in radioactive fallout covering most of the planet, not only causing devastating effects on human health and the environment, but likely triggering many more kaiju to awaken. G-force developed a plan to rapidly manufacture absolute zero cannons and cool Godzilla at the moment of meltdown to prevent its explosion. Godzilla III encountered Destroyah and battled it, quickly losing. Godzilla II followed its child’s distress call and found III on the verge of death. Enraged, Godzilla II battled Destroyah even as G-force and the JSDF set up the absolute zero cannons. Godzilla II died that night, but G-force’s plan successfully prevented the explosion. Destroyah was killed by the combination of extreme heat and cold from Godzilla II’s meltdown and the absolute zero cannons. The release of radiation from Godzilla II’s death was absorbed by the dying Godzilla III, not only revitalizing it to full health, but rapidly accelerating its growth. Godzilla III quickly became fully grown at a larger size than its parent (120 meters). 

Godzilla III is still alive and has engaged in battle with multiple Kaiju over its life, including sparking a rivalry with Kong. It has clamed a large portion of the Pacific Ocean as its territory, particularly in the area around Monster Island, the site of a major wellspring of interior earth radiation. Godzilla III has been the subject of the Monster Island Project, a joint project between the G-Force and MONARCH to encourage kaiju to relocate to similar wellsprings or into the interior earth where abundant access to interior earth radiation for food will hopefully reduce confrontations between the kaiju, or at least ensure they happen away from human civilization. This project is still ongoing and its success has yet to be determined.