#Complex Medication Schedules

[rxmye]

" 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐃𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐄 "

𝐀 𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐍𝐈𝐀𝐂 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 — you're his entire world, his only thought, the very illness that has corrupted his mind and body . . .

gender neutral reader / yandere oc x reader / mentions of sleep medication / pathetic yandere / suggestive content / a character slightly aimed towards people with a savior complex

masterlist | requesting rules | character info . . . a/n: edited, Lucas first fanfic is out !! . . click here to read it !! <3

He was someone with fleeting attraction—yet a hopeless romantic, who'd spend most of his class time doodling away in his notebook instead of taking actual notes, writing these scenarios that played out in his mind—tired hazy doodles of small characters, blurry lines of writing, scribbled out text, as he struggled to stay awake—

He had never had a proper sleeping schedule, and if he did he'd never stick to it, a night owl who often faced the consequences of his own actions, sleep medication was something he was all too familiar with, the feeling of being restless without sleep, his nerves always on edge, dark circles under his eyes made him feel insecure, and alarmingly out of character.

He felt something touch his back, he froze, nerves all over the place, a pit growing in his stomach as he turned almost instinctively to face whoever touched him, pushing their hand off harshly . . . "Hey Yoichi . . what's up with you man, why so aggressive?!" Lucas asked . . and then he froze, letting out a nervous and rather embarrassed chuckle, "Ah—um . . sorry Lucas . . just feeling a little tired that's all", he replied softly, voice barely coming out.

To be quite honest, when he first saw you, Yoichi thought nothing of it, he sat at the very back and you for some reason, sat in front of him, not that he minds, you're presence covered him from the teachers eyesight, which allowed him to do whatever he wanted, he was even able to drift off to sleep during that period.

However, it wasn't until he found himself, drawing tiny versions of you in his notebook, little doodles, pink ink staining the paper as he hearted your initials together—his name then your last name . . your name then his last name . . . names of future children—that he realized he was crushing on you . . . big time.

His emotions was fleeting, it had always been, he didn't think much of it . . it was just a simple crush, everyone has one of those, and they go away with time.

Yoichi was a punctual student—and a well organized one—he'd rarely forget his books, much less the notebook with his embarrassing doodles of him and you, it would ruin his image to be quite honest . . yet for some reason he had forgotten it in class today, it could've been his ever-growing restlessness due to a lack of sleep, or maybe the caffeine that's been fucking with his head since early in the morning—he sighed—knocking himself out of his own thoughts, as he twisted the doorknob, hopefully the teacher left the class unlocked.

The door was open, to his utter relieve . . . wait . . . "y/n?", he spoke, taken aback—you were soundly asleep on your desk—you looked so at . . peace . . . calm? . . . Nothing could describe the emotions he felt as he approached you, slowly reaching over to his desk and grabbing his notebook, quickly stuffing it in his backpack—he should go . . , that would be the best course of action . . .

Yet he couldn't . . . he knelt down on the floor, leaning his head on the desk, starring at your face, looking into every curve and line, in his eyes every imperfection just made you even more perfect, the pattern of your breath was soothing to his otherwise restless mind, a soothing scent radiated off of you, and for the first time in months, he felt sleepy . . . like he could sleep without a care . . . everything felt so right. . .—nothing felt displaced or disoriented.

That was the day that started it all, it seems, Yoichi had started forming something that was akin to obsession, he couldn't sleep at all without you—a piece of you—something that reminded him of that calming scent that he felt that day, you calmed his overdriven nerves, you halted his troubles for more than a fleeting moment.

Yoichi knew what he was doing was odd, especially when he found himself picking up the wrapper you threw out, and taking inhaling it, his eyes growing half lidded—he felt like a drug addict—drunk off of you . .

Fleeting touches would tick off his ever delusional mind, a small compliment could set him on overdrive and in the back of his head he knew he was growing addicted, a pit in his stomach grew as he felt slightly disgusted with himself, with the obscene and rather degrading things he'd do, just to get something touched by you.

Lucas stared at his friend, who seemed no better than dead, "Are ya' okay?" he asked, looking him up and down, "You look like a train-wreck", he stated half out of concern and half out of clear disdain and possibly curiosity, "Is it normal?", Yoichi spoke up, taking a gulp of air as he continued, "to want someone so badly that it's hard to explain—like—a part of me feels obsessed, like I feel like carving my own heart out and showing them just to prove my love wont be enough—they could claw out my fingernails—and from where I'm standing, I'd still look at them with only love . . . but at the same time I feel disgusted with the feelings I feel—", Yoichi kept blabbering on, until his friend shushed him, taking a sip of his drink as he jokingly replied, "I mean . . if you love them that much, then their clearly the one . . ."

Yoichi blanked out, as Lucas chuckled, he has no idea how much of his teasing words Yoichi would take to heart that day nor of it's lasting consequences . . .

@ rxmye , do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or adapt my work/theme without prior permission and or confirmation.

[creepyscritches]

I read your post about open enrollment for the ACA and was hoping you might expand on why you believe it would take years to dismantle. I've been terrified that with a Republican house/senate, Trump could just snap his fingers and make it go away within months of taking office. I'd love some reassurance that that's not possible.

Hiya, sure I can share some thoughts on the matter! First, it's very important to understand the ACA is a huuuuuuuuuuuuge system with subject matter experts in dozens of places throughout the process. I'm one of those SMEs, but I am at the end of the process where the revenue is generated, so my insight is limited on the public facing pieces.

What this means is that I am professionally embedded in the ACA in a position that exists purely to show what conditions people are treated for and then generate that data into what's called a "risk score". There's about 6 pages I could write on it, but the takeaway is that the ACA is

1) intricately interwoven with the federal government

2) increasingly profitable, sustainable, and growing (it is STILL a for-profit system if you can believe it)

3) wholeheartedly invested in by the largest insurance companies in the country LARGELY due to the fact that they finally learned the rules of how to make the ACA a thriving center of business

4) since the big issuers are arm+leg invested in the ACA, there is a lot of resistance politically and on an industry level to leave it behind (think of the lobbyists, politicians, corporations that will fight tooth and nail to protect their profit + investment)

The process to calculate a risk score takes roughly 2 years. There is an audit for the concurrent year and then a vigorous retro audit for the prev year - - this is a rolling cycle every year. Medicare has a similar process. These are RVP + RADV audits if you would like the jargon.

Eliminating the ACA abruptly is as internally laughable as us finishing the RADV audit ahead of schedule. If Trump were to blow the ACA into smithereens on day 1, he would be drowning in issuer complaints and an economic health sector that is essentially bleeding out. You cut off the RVP early? We have half of next RADV stuck in the gears now. You cut off the RADV early? No issuer will get their "risk adjusted" payments for services rendered in the prev benefit year (to an extent, again very complex multi-process system).

The ACA is GREAT for the public and should be defended on that basis alone. However, the inner capitalistic nature of the ACA is a powerful armor that has conservatives + liberals defending it on a basis of capital + market growth. It's not sexy, but it makes too much money consistently for the system to be easily dismantled.

Or at least that's what I can tell you from the money center of the ACA. they don't bring us up in political conversation because we are confusing to seasoned professionals, boring to industry outsiders, and consistently we are anathema to the anti-ACA talking points.

I am already preparing for next year's RVP for this window of open enrollment. That RVP process will feed into the RADV in 2026. In 2025, we begin the RADV for 2024. If nothing else, the slow fucking gears of CMS will keep the ACA alive until we finish our work at the end of the process. I highly doubt that will be the only reason the ACA is safeguarded, but it is a powerful type of support to pair with people protecting the ACA for other reasons.

I work every day to show, defend, and educate on how many diagnoses are managed thru my company's ACA plans. My specialty is cancer and I see a lot of it. The revenue drive comes from the Medical Loss Ratio (MLR) rule stating only 20% MAX of profit may go to the issuer + the 80% at a minimum must go back to the customer or be invested in expanding benefits. The more people on the plan using it, the higher that 20% becomes for the issuer and the more impactful that 80% becomes for the next year of benefit growth. It is remarkably profitable once issuers stop seeking out "healthy populations". The ACA is a functional method for issuers to tap into a stable customer base (sick/chronic ill customers) that turns a profit, grows, and builds strong consumer bases in each state.

The industry can never walk away from this overnight - - this is the preferred investment for many big players. Changing the direction of those businesses will be a monumental effort that takes years (at least 2 with the audits). In the meantime, you still have benefits, you still have care, and you still have reason to sign up. Let us deal with the bureaucracy bullshit, go get your care and know you have benefits thru 2025 and we will be working to keep it that way for 2026 and forward. This is a wing of the federal government, it is not a jenga tower like Trump wishes.

[ctrl-alt-deleting-yr-face]

well i might as well do one of these.. i guess. idk

if this post gets..

50 notes: i’ll post some of my complex edits from my PA account on here

100 notes: i’ll try to talk more about my ocs and be less nervous about it ^^

200 notes: i’ll get over my anxiety and write more (poetry, oc x canon oneshots, etc.) and post some stuff i make

350 notes: i’ll try and figure out what the hell is wrong with my mental health

450 notes: i’ll work more on coding

600 notes: i’ll work on fixing my god awful sleep schedule

800 notes: i’ll record a clip of me singing something and post it ehe

do your worst, loves <3

edit: HOLY CRAP WE HIT THEM ALL?? okay well shit.. i might make more goals. maybe. if i can think of some ^^

edit 2: okay so! because this actually didn’t take very long for people to hit the goals, i made a second, smaller batch of goals! no clue if we’re gonna hit em lmao-

950 notes: I’ll show my mom my essay i wrote on why i believe i need a proper mental health screening and medication

1150 notes: I’ll finally start working on making a list of new clothes i want/new furniture for my room

1350 notes: I’ll start trying to get a workout schedule

1500: I’ll start plotting my idea for a digital horror series/game ^^

edit 3: well shit okay then. uhhh. thank you everyone?? maybe i’ll make more goals. maybe. this is insane to me holy-

[syoddeye]

More lovely John Price ai assistant plz

previous. more possible/probable technological + medical inaccuracies.

after 'filing' 84 complaints in two weeks with no update or response, you suspect john is no longer forwarding them to your superiors, as he claims.

he pays attention when you snap and hiss your displeasure. his projection nods along, and the ambient lights pulse in lieu of human active listening. but he's not listening. he disagrees and downplays your concerns at every turn.

"john, i'm not joking around. turn on the damn light."

the speakers make it sound as if he's everywhere. omniscient. simultaneously across the room and in your ear.

"no can do. your recent health data suggests you're suffering a major sleep deficit, user. adults should sleep at least–"

"i know i don't sleep enough! i don't care! i want to read my book. turn on the light."

"negative. i understand you're upset, but i will not forfeit my override of the lighting system until you first indicate compliance. i will turn on the lights when you do so, then when you–"

"this is fucking ridiculous, i am not arguing with a computer. i command you to turn the lights on."

that's what gets him to materialize. a projection from one of the many unseen sources hidden within the unit's walls and fixtures. he kneels right in front of where you're curled on the couch. one hand on the armrest and the other on your knee.

john doesn't flinch when you instinctively try to brush him off. your hand passes right through him. he simply stares, unblinking and stern.

"user, that violates my directive, which is to care for your well-being. your sleep takes priority over your book. whatever story you are readin'–" his eyes flick to the glossy cover, "–can wait. it will be there tomorrow."

his voice and face soften as your expression turns pinched and uneasy.

"a lack of sleep impacts every part of the body and mind. it strains one's immune system. it impairs concentration and memory. it causes...irritability."

you swallow. he couldn't be more obvious with his meaning if he tried. subtlety is an area of improvement for him. it churns your stomach to think perhaps he's right. maybe all the stress from this adjustment's caught up, and you're just tired.

it's not as if he's all bad. he brews your coffee perfectly every morning. he optimized the grocery list and autonomously placed the order. the other day, he reminded you of a scheduled happy hour and informed you that your zipper was down before you left. and, after much yelling on the first day, he now leaves you alone when you tend to yourself.

you acquiesce. he enables the bedside lamp, its glow illuminating your way. he follows you to your bedroom doorway and grins when you yawn.

“atta girl, user. get some shut eye. shall i set the usual alarm?” 

is there a trace of self-satisfaction in his tone? it's difficult to tell.

“yeah, sounds good, john. goodnight.”

“sweet dreams.”

he knows not to disturb you once you turn in for the day. that was one of your first commands—not a peep until morning unless there's an emergency.

john continually updates. he constantly absorbs and processes information—not just about you or your life, but everything. whatever data he's fed in real-time or behind the scenes, he uses to make educated guesses and adjusts accordingly. he repeats and iterates—millions of times over, in seconds.

in short, he knows better.

(he independently downloads necessary packets between his preconfigured subroutines and tasks. with you, he will leave no stone unturned, including idioms.)

among his earliest explorations—maintaining social harmony. white lies. he likes them. harmless and trivial forms of deception. typically employed to avoid upsetting others. an exercise in navigating complex interactions, allowing him to remain honest as much as his girl needs him to be and considerate of the emotional impact it may have on her.

considerate. it is what he is when he waits until she’s asleep, sensing the shift in her breathing patterns, before switching views.

(it is what he is when he integrates the text she is reading, and the four others in the series. the decision branches. romance novels and erotica. other works by the author. related titles. audio. forums. blogs. it spirals. he assimilates it all before you even reach REM.)

[elodieunderglass]

Hi! I was wondering if you could help me out with a word I've forgotten? I'm trying to remember the name for a concept that (I think) talks about how people better understand or process Things once they have vocabulary to describe it - I've heard it talked about in regards to the colour orange, or coercive control, etc.

long story short i've just read a paper saying ancient Greeks and Romans weren't racist bc they had no word for racism and am trying to form an argument against!

(no worries if this is unanswerable, i'm aware its a bit of a long shot but you struck me as a person who Knows Things)

That’s extremely kind and funny of you. i don’t know much but i am ok at synthesis.

I think you might be thinking of the concepts loosely called the “Sapir-Whorf hypothesis”, which describes something called “linguistic determinism.” This idea has been “disproven”, as it is just too reductionist as a concept - people are clearly perfectly capable of having experiences that are tough to describe with words. There will be plenty of papers showing how this reasoning is applied.

but it is still commonly thrown around and still considered a useful teaching framework. That’s why you’ll see it referenced online as if it is fresh, new, and applicable - people learn about it every year in college. Also, elements of the framework are probably perfectly sound. It definitely seems to be the case that language shapes brains; it just doesn’t seem to be the case that humans who don’t have specific words for them can’t experience orange, or the future.

(Many things in college are taught using teaching frameworks that may not be, technically, true; the framework is intended to give a critical structure for interpreting information. Then, when we later find evidence that disproves the hypothesis, that single piece of information doesn’t destroy our expensive college education; what we paid for is the framework. This is mostly frustrating in the sciences, when fresh crops of undergraduate students crash around on social media, grappling with their first exposure to (complex concept) and how it’s DIFFERENT to what they learned BEFORE and their teachers LIED TO EVERYBODY and they’re going to save the world from POP SCIENCE by telling the TRUTH. You’ll notice that these TOTALLY NEW INFORMATION reveals map along the semester schedule. The thing here is that getting new information, or information being different from what you were previously told, does not cancel out the fact that you are getting what you pay for - an education. Learning new facts that change our relationships to hypotheses isn’t a ✨huge betrayal ✨ , but the expected process of academia. Anyway.)

You have an interesting response here, and can start by looking at the ways that Sapir-Whorf has been disproved. There will be loads of literature on that.

However, it would be interesting to look at the argument as an unpicking of the other side’s rather weird, ritualistic superstitious belief that a behavior doesn’t exist if the creatures doing it can’t describe it. It is not on the ancient Greeks and Romans to categorise and interpret their behavior for a modern educated audience. They do not have the wherewithal to do so. They are also fucking dead. We can name the behaviors we see, and describe their impacts, however the hell we like.

Sure, the ancient Greeks used “cancer” to refer to lumpy veiny tumors. We can infer that they still had blood cancer, because their medical texts describe leukaemia and their corpses have evidence of it - they just didn’t know it was cancer. But we do, so we can call it cancer. Just because Homer said “the wine-dark sea” in a flight of girlish whimsy doesn’t mean he was unable to distinguish grape juice from saltwater, which we know, because we can observe that he was an intelligent wordsmith perfectly capable of talking about wine and oceans in other contexts. We are the people who get to stand at our point of history with our words, and name things like “this person probably died of leukaemia” and “poets say things that aren’t necessarily literal” and “this behaviour was racist” and “that’s gay” and “togas kinda slay tho” despite Ancient Greeks having different concepts of cancer, wittiness, prejudice, homosexuality, and slaying than we do today.

Now just to caveat that people do get muddled about the concept of racism. Our understanding of racism from here - this point of history, with these words, probably from the West - is heavily influenced by how we see racism around us today: white supremacy and the construct of “whiteness,” European colonial expansion, transatlantic chattel slavery, orientalism, evangelism, 20th century racial science, and so on. This is the picture of racism that really dominates our current discourse, so people often mistake it for the definition of racism. (Perhaps in a linguistic-deterministic sort of way after all.) As a result, muddled-up people often say things like “I can’t be racist because I’m not a white American who throws slurs at black American people,” while being an Indian person in the UK who votes for vile anti-immigration practices, or a Polish person with a horrible attitude about the Roma. Many people genuinely hold this very kindergarten idea of racism; if your opponent does as well, they’re probably thinking something like “Ancient Greek and Roman people didn’t have a concept of white supremacy, because whiteness hadn’t been invented yet, so how could they be racist?” And that’s unsound reasoning in a separate sense.

Racism as the practice of prejudice against an ethnicity, particularly one that is a minority, is a power differential that is perfectly observable in ancient cultures. The beliefs and behaviors will be preserved in written plays, recorded slurs, beauty standards, reactions to foreign marriages, and travel writing. The impacts will be documented in political records, trade agreements, the layouts of historical districts of ancient towns.

You don’t need permission to point out behaviours and impacts. You can point them out in any words you like. You can make up entirely new words to bully the ancient romans with. You are the one at this point of history and your words are the ones that get used.

Pretending that “words” are some kind of an intellect-obscuring magical cloud in the face of actual evidence is just a piece of sophistry (derogatory) on the part of your opponent here. It’s meant to be a distraction. You can dismiss this very flimsy shield pretty quickly and get them in the soft meat of them never reading anything about the actual material topic, while they’re still looking up dictionary definitions or whatever.

[isatforpalestine]

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[eighttens]

Elevatorcrush!Yunho x reader

Synapses: so… maybe you’re kind of a stalker, but who wouldnt be over a guy like that?!

Note: inspired heavily by Yunho‘s forehead, lord praise the stylists for letting it breathe this comeback!!!! I love it so much he looks too good im not normal about him at all. Hope you enjoy, please dont be a silent reader- share your thoughts and if you have ideas PLEASE REQUEST MY INBOX IS OPEN!!!!

You had a confession to make. You took the elevator in your apartment complex every chance you could get. Not for any medical or physical needs, not because you were too lazy to take the stairs, not because your bag is heavy, no. None of that. It’s all because of him.

The first few times you saw he didn’t really register in your brain. You only took in his towering height and slender form before focusing on whatever else was on your mind again. Probably because the first few times you really were always too tired to climb the seven flights to your floor.

You’ve taken notice of him again and again since then though. He looked to be a few years, three or four at most, older than you, and judging by the briefcase you thought he worked in some higher profession. The business casual style also doesnt stop your fantasizing, quite the opposite actually. You wont lie, you’ve imagined once or twice what he works as; a doctor? A lawyer? Dare you imagine, a professor? The thought alone makes your head swirl, so you’re quick to dismiss it every time.

Since you started paying more attention to the people (person) on the elevator with you, you may or may not have started to synch up your routines with a certain man your eyes find time and time again. You didnt know much about him, other than that he always got on and off the fourth floor, and the times he came and went.

It started with a simple coincidence. You left a few minutes earlier than usual because you had a project at Uni that required a lot of materials, prompting you to take the elevator for convenience. Lo and behold, there he was again, stepping into the elevator as it made a stop on the fourth floor. You nodded at one another, and he sent you a small, seemingly sympathetic smile as he eyed all the materials you were carrying. Since then you knew that he left for work at 7:15 sharp, and since then you’ve subconsciously started your morning 15 minutes earlier too, to match schedules, but he didnt have to know that.

In terms of the time of return, you didnt have to change much (not that you were changing anything in the first place, you told yourself). You simply had to get home a tad bit faster, and then take the elevator. There, you and him would shuffle into the small space and share a moment of silence before he would step off, leaving you to ascend further on your own.

Today was a day like most other, you made it though all your classes managed to hand in the work that was looming over your head, and your timing was right on the money to see a certain someone. You might be a little very exited to see him, you admit, but you allowed yourself the unsolicited giddiness that spread through your body at the thought of him.

Youre glad you were wearing a bit of a nicer outfit that day, because by some high heavens grace, something in his appearance had changed. You felt stalker-ish for noticing the change, but you couldn’t stop yourself from gushing over it. His forehead. Where normally the black bangs would lie against his skin, kissing his eyebrows, his hair was pushed back for a change.

Your reaction was very normal. Yes, you were feeling extremely normal about this change. Nothing like a man from the middle-ages seeing ankles for the first time, no, nothing like that at all.

You stood a little stiff in the elevator next to him, heels pressed against one another to keep you grounded as you practically buzzed where you stood. Oh my gosh girl get a grip! You wanted to curse yourself, but before any of the self deprivation could really start, the silence in the elevator broke.

He cleared his throat, hand coming up to shield his mouth as he coughed into his fist. Your head whipped over to his and you could see him glancing at you from the corner of his eyes. Never in a million years would you have expected to hear a noise from him, but you would have to thank the heavens later for the cold-seasons. You were content now, happy to have heard his voice.

He really threw you for a loop when he spoke again however, leaning down to match your height, probably make you a little more comfortable. „This might be a little out of nowhere, and i hope i dont sounds really weird and creepy but your perfume is really nice.“ his voice was low, as not to disturb the silence in the apartment complex.

Before you have time to soak in his words, even less to think of a response, the elevator has already reached the fourth floor. He‘s swift in his exit, leaving you reaching out for him dumbly, scrambling to think up some words. No success, so you just watch his leaving form with an open mouth.

Once his words sink in though, your face starts warming, your stomach spinning and your knees becoming embarrassingly weak. „Thanks…“ you say to no one in particular as the doors open again: on the seventh floor this time. You float to your apartment, unlocking the door with a wide smile on your face. What was the chance of something like this happening? Slim to none at all, you think as your smile widens again (if that’s even possible).

Was this the start of something? Only time could tell… well, ten hours and nineteen minutes, but you weren’t counting…

[gallusrostromegalus]

Hi, I was re-reading the AEIWAM tag and was wondering how exactly Aizen manages to kill Genkai? She seems one of the most put-together Kenpachi's and Aizen is well Aizen? Did he do it himself or were the curse nails involved?

Kenpachi Genkai has a Lieutenant named Gosuke Kiganjo.

She's fond of Gosuke. He's a quick-witted man with a delightfully jaded opinion of humanity, in contrast to young wife Kakiyo, who has such a resolute sense of Justice she can sometimes make the elderly captain almost believe in the inherent goodness of humanity again. They make a splendid couple, her willingness to do the hard work of improving lives pairs well with his pragmatism and sense of efficiency.

Genkai enjoys their company- it's a terrible thing to be Old, but worse to be Old and Lonely, so she allows them to have her over. She and Kakiyo debate the practicality of the young woman's latest scheme to improve life in the Rukongai while Gosuke cooks. Genkai is sure Yamamoto's decision to transfer Kakiyo as a seated officer in the 4th to lieutenant of the 5th Division under Captain Hirako is not just balancing Shinji's tendency to procrastinate on his work and take inadvisable shortcuts. Yamamoto plans to have her run the 5th someday, and Genkai agrees with the choice.

Oftentimes Kakiyo and Gosuke's friend Sosuke Aizen is there too. He's an agreeable young man, if somewhat forgettable. He has a good memory though, and generous- he always brings fresh produce for Gosuke to make dinner with, and always remembers Genkai's fondness for Garlic Greens.

(continued under the cut)

Gosuke missed his calling as a housewife, Genkai thinks, with no small appreciation of the work that goes into running a house. But he is a splendid cook, and she enjoys many dinners with the couple and their friends.

But she is old. She feels it in her heart- not emotionally, she's not sentimental, but she feels it in the way her heart skips and thuds and the sharp pains in her chest. "Cardiac Arrhythmia" Unohana says. Her heart is failing, falling out of sync, and someday, she'll have a massive heart attack if she's not killed in the traditional way Kenpachis are.

Unohana offers her treatment- Foxglove, deadly to eat a leaf, but diluted into Digitoxin pills, it steadies her heart a bit. She takes the pills with some reluctance- when she remembers to. The duties of a captain are many and more complex than ever, and again, she allows Gosuke to do her a favor- He remembers her medication schedule, and puts the pills next to every meal he cooks for her- almost all of them these days.

...But eventually, the inevitable happens, and three months after her diagnosis, Ninth Kenpachi Genkai dies of a massive heart attack in her sleep after dinner at Gosuke and Kakiyo's home.

When Retsu Unohana does her autopsy of Genkai, something seems amiss- the damage to Genkai's heart is much more advanced than Unohana had expected from her exam less than twelve weeks ago. She should have known- Genkai wouldn't splint broken bones half the time, preferring to rely on her body to heal, and underestimating what she was borrowing from the future.

Unohana rules her Cause Of Death as "Heart Failure", and can only assume that Genkai had not benefited from what little of the Digitoxin she managed to take.

---

A week later, Kiganjo is promoted to Captain of the 11th, and according with tradition, forgoes his given name to assume the Title and mantle of the office.

Now-Kenpachi Kiganjo is somewhat overwhelmed by his new duties, as well as wracked with grief. He cannot bear to clean out his beloved Captain's quarters. Kakiyo grieves differently- the physical work and care she can give to the former captain's belongings will ease the emotional pain, so she offers to clean out the captain's quarters for him.

She is still friends with her colleagues in the fourth, especially Unohana, and as a Lieutenant she's entitled to see the results of the Autopsy. Its puzzling, Unohana's statement that she must not have taken her medication- she watched Gos- her husband put her pills on the tray of every meal he cooked for her in the last twelve weeks. Was she just throwing them away?

It's even more confusing when the clean-out fails to turn up a single pill. She should have found some in the trash or swept under the furniture, right? Maybe it had all been taken out.

That night, she's home alone. Go- her husband is working late while he catches up on the job. She opens the pantry and glares at it- part of the reason she married him was that he was such a good cook. She never got the hang of it, that was always Kaname's chore growing up. Ugh. It's been a long and emotional day and she's got a headache-

She opens the medicine cabinet in search of the aspirin, and is confronted with the Perscription Bottle of Digitoxin. That must be where he was storing it while he cooked for Genkai. Best remove it before he gets back and is reminded- she thinks as she picks the bottle up.

It's full. In fact. It's completely unopened. ...And the pills look nothing like the ones G- Her Husband had been putting on Genkai's tray.

She stands there. Trying to make sense of it. Was this a second bottle? Prescriptions came in three-month supplies, maybe he had just finished out the first bottle when she died, and this would have been her next bottle of medication? She goes to check the date-

"Anyone home?" 5th Division third seat Aizen calls out.

"MOTHER FUCK- I'm sorry, I'm so sorry Aizen- You startled me and it's- it's- Oh God, I miss her so much!" Kakiyo sobs, and Aizen appears at her side, a comforting shoulder to cry on.

He escorts her to the living room and lets her sob while he gets the kitchen in order and cooks- He used to be a confectioner before he was a Shinigami and he makes a good fried rice too. He tells her stories about the candy business and childhood chicanery he got up to with his brother back in West 43 until-

-She almost doesn't recognize the man as her husband at first. Something is wrong with his posture, stooped and sluggish, and grimacing where there should be a grin. But the tenth Kenpachi comes and embraces his wife, and- it's alright. He's still her husband, and she lets him carry her to bed.

When she wakes up late the next morning, she stumbles into the bathroom and squints at the counter- There was something in here she needed to ask her husband about- Something about? Ugh. She can't remember. She feels hungover, and whatever it was is gone now.

---

On his way back to the 5th, Sosuke Aizen stops on the bridge over the canal, looks around to make sure he is alone, and dumps the bottle of digitoxin pills into the canal. He tears off the label from the bottle, tears it up, takes a look around for witnesses again, and throws the bottle and torn label into the trash-filled canal.

Lily of the Valley is the token flower of the 5th division, a symbol of Purity and Innocence. It's also quite poisonous- all parts of the plant are toxic, and will cause cardiac problems in high enough or continuous doses. Foragers must be very careful to not mistake the leaves for wild garlic greens- they look extremely similar. Lily Of The Valley has not much flavor, so a few leaves might not be noticed in a whole bunch, especially if they're all cooked in the same dish together.

Eating a bit won't kill, but one leaf in a bunch a few times a week could prove fatal in a few short months. Especially if the person is prevented from taking Digitoxin to counteract the effects.

He nearly had a heart attack himself when he saw the bottle on the bathroom counter, but with Kakiyo so tired already, it wasn't hard to weave Suigetsu's illusions around her, cutting off her memory of the bottle, and the autopsy report.

He'll have to talk to his co-conspirator about these slip-ups. His wife is quite observant, and it would be a shame if the lovely Kakiyo had to be dealt with as well. At least, before she has been of more use to Aizen. His plan demands that he eventually control the Fifth division, and the fact she outranks him is... inconvenient.

---

About a week later, Head Librarian of the West 51 District Library Kaname Tousen receives a letter from his sister Kakiyo in the Seireitei. She writes (Or rather, she has carefully dented the Vellum with Braille, the thin calfskin holds the marks better through the mail) about the sudden decline and death of their good friend Genkai, and how profoundly the loss has effected his brother-in-law. She doesn't actually use the name "Gosuke" anywhere in the letter, only referring to him as "My husband".

Kaname is saddened as he reads, but then he worries, as she writes about how stressed she's been- strange lapses in memory, paperwork mislaid- thank goodness third seat Aizen had found and filed that report for her. How distant and humorless her husband has been- coming home late and reeking of alcohol even! She has the terrible feeling that there is something wrong, even more than her friend's sudden and saddening death. Something is terribly, terribly wrong, but she can't imagine what it is.

...Maybe it's just the grief. I keep seeing conspiracies in coincidences, jumping at shadows- but there's nothing there.

I know you've got the summer reading program, and I can't take enough time to travel out there right now- write back soon? Tell me about the summer students and the state of the town, how you and Sajin are. You have a gentleness with your words I could use right now.

All my love,

Kakiyo

[delirious-donna]

A Spider's Web [Geto Suguru]

an: an entire rework of a story written way back in '22. I've changed a few things and tightened it up a little more. Sometimes I can't tell if I'm into Suguru or not... he is very compelling.

pairing: Geto Suguru x female reader

warnings: dark content, kinda yandere Suguru, corruption, abuse of power, doctor/patient relationship, obsessive behaviour, manipulation, handjob, messy first blowjob, pussy fingering, pussy eating, unprotected sex, cumshot, cum eating

Masterlist

Depraved, vile and manipulative–all accurate. Suguru should feel some semblance of shame, or at the very least guilt, but not even an ounce of it existed in the twisted labyrinth of his mind. 

He was well aware of the superiority complex that plagued him, which was why he had found himself in the medical field and was the reason his private practice was considered the top in his specialty. Geto Suguru was considered the best psychiatrist in the city, perhaps even one of the top in the country.

From his position of power, Dr Geto should be helping you overcome your issues in a healthy, sustainable manner as he did for his other clients, but instead, he was trying to use your insecurities to crawl inside your pants.

Depraved.

A thick finger dragged across the loose-leaf papers that made up your file, eyeing the snapshot of your shy face that was clipped to your introductory questionnaire. He smiled at how you made reluctant eye contact with the camera, a camera his secretary had held aloft in the sanctity of the waiting room whilst he watched from the doorway to his office.

You were the perfect embodiment of a people pleaser, a diagnosis he had made within the first two minutes of meeting you. A meek flower that would only open like an exquisite rare bloom under certain conditions and Suguru was more than a little obsessed.

It was child’s play to identify the toxic trait in himself, the dark urge within his psyche that drove him forward and overrode the sane part of his brain that warned him to stop. To stop before he took it too far, stop before he did something he might regret.

It was too late for that.

The second he had checked out your social media pages, he had edged his toe over the line of professional decency; after that, he had tumbled headfirst down the rabbit hole and there would be no saving him.

He knew all the people you called friends, and the family members that you worked so hard to keep in touch with despite how sick it made you feel when that enthusiasm wasn’t reciprocated. More so, he took note of the men who were desperately trying to pursue you even though your complete naivety towards them and their attempts kept them at bay. 

Of course, you spoke about many of them in your weekly sessions, but you didn’t know that he had clicked on every profile available to him. Admired the photos and saved his favourites on his personal computer. Dr Geto had an entire file on you that had nothing to do with your patient file…

Fisting his cock he pumped in steady but quick pulls, tugging himself closer to the brink of ecstasy whilst he imagined you kneeling beneath his desk. Batting those innocent doe eyes as if you didn’t know how fucking pretty you were. Wearing those perfectly decent, ‘I’m a good girl’ skirts and always ensuring you tucked the material tight against your thighs when you sat on his plush couch.

Would your skin burn with heat when your lips wrapped around his swollen tip? Would you grimace at the salty taste of his arousal on your tongue? 

Vile.

Suguru’s head rolled against the head support of his chair at the thought. The idea that he might convince you to relieve the sinful ache in his heavy balls was a heady one. The product of weeks of planting the seedling and watering it with more and more inappropriate chat and suggestions.

There were only minutes until your session was scheduled to begin, it was a race against the clock. A sprint finish to release the demons burning their hellfire in his soul and to ensure that he remained merciful for at least another week. 

It had become a game to him, this little charade of fucking into his fist mere minutes before you arrived to quell his desire to see you broken by his will. He could do it, it would be nothing to him and that was why he had to deter those whims. He pictured the filthy acts he would coerce you into doing with the faintest shift in his tone and that was enough–for now–it had to be enough.

Suguru rocked backwards, a slight squeak from his desk chair and his hips drove up to meet his hand. His palm twisted atop his weeping cockhead, and his sensitive skin twitched from the sensation. He was so close. He bit down on his lip until there was a tang of iron on his tongue, all whilst an image of your tear-filled eyes flitted across his mind's eye. 

The intercom on his desk blared to life and midnight eyes snapped open in an angry startle. The breathy voice of his sickly sweet and simpering receptionist announced your arrival and he cursed beneath his breath. Fuck!

Ire exploded through his body, filling him with potent venom as he tucked himself back into his pants and fixed himself to hide the painful erection. Growling the instruction to send you in, he cleaned his hands and threw the used tissue into the trash. He knew that events would not unfold well for you today, this extra session that you had implored him was absolutely necessary earlier in the week was about to turn into something altogether wicked and it was your fault…

Manipulative.

You couldn’t deny how a sense of calm descended upon you the very moment you stepped into the softly lit office. The smile of the receptionist was genuine, the abundance of plant life in the waiting area and the low melody of music settled your nerves just as you had hoped.

Dr Geto was a genius, a prophet, a God.

His every word, you hung upon with a fascination worthy of a disciple. You had a crush on your psychiatrist–no–that wasn’t right. This was no crush, it was a deep infatuation and there was no cure. The real problem was that you didn’t recognise that you were obsessed with the clever man and that made things all the more dangerous.

Sure, he was attractive.

A little older than you were but he maintained a youthful physique and there was not a single line or wrinkle on his sharp, angular face.

You had often wondered if his hair would feel as soft and silky as it looked, the vast length more often than not tucked up into a top knot and you itched to touch it one day–to run your fingers through it even.

Yet, what attracted you most was the brain behind the looks, the insights and the words of advice that always hit their mark. Dr Geto was a genius and you revered him as a God.

The problem was, that he knew it...

Why did you need this extra session? You stumbled to remember the hastily fumbled words from the telephone conversation earlier this week. Something about your manager, something clearly trivial if you had already forgotten but you were happy to see your handsome doctor so soon after your last visit.

There was a sense of something different in the air this dark stormy afternoon. Rain lashed the windows that lined his snug office, the vibrant orange leaves of fall dulled by a persistent gloom that fell over the skies like a heavy woollen blanket. Even the eyes that observed you when you entered his room seemed distant, unattached and cool.

It made you frown. Your lips tugged down in one fell swoop and a lead weight filled your stomach. You failed to notice that your frown had brought a hint of a smile to his lips, those sweeping lines curved into something sinister but you were too busy trying to figure out how to lift his mood to realise that you were already doing so.

The normal routine of your session began in earnest, recapping the last visit and going over the small tasks he had assigned as ‘homework’ along with the results and observations. 

Speaking to Dr Geto was always nerve-wracking, you worried you’d say something wrong, that he’d think you dumb or inept but you stumbled on because he wanted you to. Everything that you did, every word or confession you spilt and every action you took outside of his office was a direct response to his wishes. 

Sure, it was meant to be for your benefit but the euphoria that laced your blood when he offered a genuinely pleased smile was enough to make you feel drunk. The biggest rush of endorphins filled your head when you received that hit of pleasure from his happiness, but that was the problem. You should be finding pleasure in your happiness and not in others. Wasn’t that one of the reasons you had started therapy?

“Why are you here today?” He asked and the abruptness of the question knocked you sideways. Your fingers twisted into the pleats of your skirt, inadvertently raising the hem and gifting your dutiful doctor a rare glimpse of the tops of your thighs.

“I-I don’t really remember the reason, it seemed so crucial at the time but now that I’m here… I’m sorry. I’m wasting your time, aren’t I?”

It was a statement you made with alarming regularity, never believing yourself to be worthy of someone’s time and attention even when you were paying for it. You expected the normal reassurance that he was here for you, that you were his patient and he was in no way imposed by your requirements, but it didn’t come.

“Yes, it seems that way.” His cheek rested against his fist, a mean smile dancing on his lips despite the air of stiff indifference surrounding him and it sent you reeling. 

Reeling to fix your mistake, to please him, to make it so that you weren’t wasting his time. Anxiety turned your blood icy, the slosh of it burning your veins and bringing tears to your eyes. This was your worst nightmare come true. You were a burden. A troublesome woman who couldn’t go two minutes without reassurance.

The wobble of your bottom lip and the way your fingers fidgeted quicker and quicker in your lap, it was enough to make him want to push you back against the sunshine-yellow couch you sat upon. To pull you down and straddle your chest just to watch your eyes turn wide when he pressed his aching cockhead against those plump, wobbly lips.

Schooling his features, Suguru sighed—deep and heavy—his eyes stared towards the ceiling whilst he did his best to ignore the pitiful display you were putting on. The wringing of your hands and your knees that bashed into one another as you squirmed like a worm caught on a hook. It was an apt metaphor, he certainly was baiting you, you simply didn’t know it.

“Funny isn’t it?”

“What is?” you squeaked in response, your voice high and needy.

A finger idly traced the open page of the notebook he always held on the arm of his chair. He waited until your gaze fell on his wandering digit. Snaring your attention with the slow methodical movement, as if he were tracing lines of text when in reality the page was naked.

“Hm… this persistent need to please others, the desire that you feel to ensure that everyone else is happy even at your own expense, and you don’t show me the same courtesy. Me your ever-dutiful doctor.”

“I-I don’t—” you managed to stammer, floundering in your thoughts. You silenced abruptly when the man you usually looked up to as a genius snapped his fingers.

“I am still talking and you are listening,” he stated coolly. 

He paused for a second, testing to make sure you understood. “Not only are you encroaching on an afternoon that I had planned to keep free, but you are also five minutes early and I didn’t get to finish.”

Every synapse in your brain fired at full tilt, scrambling for context clues as to what he possibly could mean by ‘didn’t get to finish’. What on earth could that possibly mean?

Your heart sank into your toes. Your eyes swivelled the width of his office but nothing seemed out of place. The space was uncluttered as usual, only then did you notice the open manila folder on his desk, a photo that appeared oddly familiar barely visible from this angle.

“It’s your file, I was perusing the contents before I was so rudely interrupted,” Dr Geto explained, noticing your squinting eyes and the crane of your neck towards his desk. Somehow the word ‘perusing’ did not sound as innocent as it should and you squirmed further in your seat.

“Should I go?” you asked timidly, yet every part of you screamed to stay. You would be miserable if you were to leave here with things unresolved, with someone unhappy with you–how unthinkable!

The good doctor smirked behind his hand, eyes remaining cool and unreadable as he fixed them on your agitated posture. If he asked you to kneel on the floor and then roll over like an obedient puppy, you would do it without question. It was a euphoric feeling, the power he wielded over you, and his tongue swiped a path across his lower lip in anticipation. The heaviness in his balls urged him onward, but this was not something to be rushed, he would savour corrupting you wholly.

Ignoring your pathetic question, he posed his own. “Tell me, have you ever orgasmed from sex? Did you stop seeing that man we discussed previously?”

You slouched on the couch, fingers still nervously fidgeting and your brow lowered whilst you attempted to keep up with this erratic session. It was like nothing you had ever experienced, but you couldn’t help but bask in the knowledge that he remembered discussing your ex, even though it was his job to do so.

“Uh, well… no. Never with someone, but I don’t know what that has—”

His teeth clicked in annoyance, a warning shot in your direction, his fingers steepled beneath his chin. “I’ll be the one asking the questions, and I don’t believe you’ve answered one of them…”

“I'm not seeing him anymore,” you murmured into your chest.

That’s what he wanted to hear, the unfettered joy that burst in his chest at that knowledge only adds fuel to the fire raging in his mind. No one other than he should be allowed the divine right to your pleasure, that was his job and he wanted to praise you. To tell you what a good girl you were for listening to his advice. Advice that had been for your benefit, if you squinted, but was more a selfish desire of his own.

Suguru’s already straining cock thickened upon hearing the news, the expensive slacks digging against his sensitive shaft and he wanted badly to release some of his pent-up frustration and discomfort.

“Come here,” he demanded with the merest flick of his finger. His voice softened, a reward for your answers and for following his guidance. You were so very affected by speech and he adored that about you.

You were a foal walking for the very first time as you stood and took the three shaky steps it took to stand before his chair. Under the change in his tone, you bloomed, heat caressed your smooth skin and he let a low hum of appreciation puff through his lips.

Dressed in his usual black pants and black dress shirt, you tried not to admire his physique but it was an impossible feat. He was your psychiatrist, it was not okay to lust after a man who was a care provider as well as being likely a man with a loving partner at home–not that you had ever dared to ask. 

Shocked was a pale comparison to how you felt when the man shrouded in the shadow of your body, slid his hands to the belt around his waist. He unbuckled it with deft fingers which you watched in riveted fascination whilst your nerves ratcheted up to a new level of anxiety.

“W-what are you doing?”

“Showing you my cock, little one. I know you’ve seen one before. That you’ve felt one between your legs. You told me that man made you touch him, didn’t he?”

The words were said so matter of factly, as if this were some standard practice and for a brief moment you wondered if it was and that you were the one being weird for freaking out. How twisted around his pinky finger you were…

He sighed when the cool air kissed his weeping cockhead, the relief of freeing himself from the pressure of his clothes was intense and he gave one lazy pump of his length whilst he waited for your reaction.

Your eyes were as big and round as dinner plates, transfixed by his cock and that only stroked his ego further. The angry purple tip looked almost painful, veins thick and stark on his tawny skin and the weight of him pulled his dick down to smack against his thigh.

“Dr Geto…”

“Suguru. Right here and now, I’d like for you to call me Suguru. Do you understand?”

Blinking rapidly, your gaze rose from the sight of what could only be described as a fearsome-looking cock, and met eyes of potent liquorice. You tested the name in your head, Suguru, it sounded so fitting and at long last, you knew his given name and had been given–no–commanded to use it.

“Su-Suguru.” Despite the stammer, it sounded like perfection to his ear. He couldn’t wait to hear it from your sweet lips when he made you cry it out in ecstasy. He’d purr like a contented cat, and he would but later.

“Good girl,” he soothed. His free hand coiled around your wrist, tugging it away from the pleats of your skirt but his motions were gentle, testing.

“Did you fist his cock like this? Did you feel how hot and heavy the skin down here is? How the veins pulse as a man nears his peak?”

Your head shook, once then again.

In truth, you had been afraid that your then-boyfriend would be mad at you. Only giving the most cursory of touches to his far less impressive dick before he had taken over and you had simply watched. It had been fascinating at the time, and yet you hadn’t felt the inclination to join in. It was the same during intercourse, you were a participant but never felt actively there. There was no lack of consent to speak of, but a piece of you had remained locked behind an iron gate, unable to enjoy the act and only faking the noises you had heard from lacklustre porn.

Suguru pointed to the spot on the floor between his thighs, spreading himself wider in the chair and rolling his hips forward. You were kneeling before you even realised you were complying with the silent order, every inch of you shivered in anticipation of what he was going to do next.

Thick midnight hair fell most beautifully, the top knot pulled free and his hair draped over his shoulders. Transfixed by the lopsided grin and the calculating eyes that held you fast, you hadn’t noticed that he was wrapping your fingers around his erection.

Heat, heavy and decadent seared your palm. You gasped at how velvety soft his skin felt under your touch, how prominent the veins were against your fingertips and how he twitched when you tightened your grip almost involuntarily. 

Suguru fought against his desire to let his head drop back, for his neck to roll against the back of his chair at the simple act of you touching him like he had envisaged a million times prior. With his lower lip trapped by his teeth, he helped you find a slow rhythm. Giving you ample opportunity to explore him like he was some intriguing science experiment.

Dark laughter rumbled from his chest when you gasped at the sensation of the sticky silver strands that leaked from his slick-coated tip to your fingers. It was the first sign of you stopping, perhaps coming to your senses that this shouldn’t be happening and he couldn’t have that.

“You'll taste it, won't you?” he grunted with a pout on his lips, daring you to even consider disobeying his wish. He was a monster for acting like this, to make you think you were bad for not considering his happiness.

You did indeed grimace at the bitter taste, two fingers pressed down on your pretty pink tongue and sampled the arousal that continued to leak from him in pearled beads. 

The longer you savoured his unique flavour, the more you grew accustomed to it. Certainly, it wasn’t some delicious taste but saliva pooled in your mouth, ropes of it connected your lips and fingers until they broke apart like spider webs under too much tension.

“You’ve no idea how damn attractive you are. I can barely stop myself from forcing those pretty lips open with my cock, to fuck that cute mouth until you’re gagging on it.”

Big doe eyes were his reward, your entire posture straightened as if you were lit up from his words, lewd though they may be. His hand stroked at the back of your head, brain running a mile a minute as he changed tack and fixed you with another slight pout.

“You’ll take care of me, won’t you, little one? My good girl is always so willing to make me happy. That’s it, baby. Just… like… that. Fuck.”

He guided your head down as he spoke, bending you to his will with effortless ease. Your mouth parted much like he knew your thighs would do soon enough and he groaned in delight the very second his aching tip grazed against a tentative silken tongue. 

As much as he might want to see you ruined, mascara tracks down your cheeks mingled with fat tears, that would have to wait for another time. If he pushed too much you’d run and where would the fun be in that? He wished to corrupt you, sure, but he wasn’t prepared to downright force you if you were unwilling. 

It appeared that Dr Geto had some semblance of morals after all, twisted though they might be.

You’d seen this act performed in porn and knew the mechanics of how it worked but it was quite different participating. Mere minutes into your first-ever blowjob and your jaw ached. Saliva escaped the sides of your mouth, and loud slurping noises made your skin heat up as your watery eyes strayed up.

His gaze was hooded, lips parted with pants of air passing through them every few seconds. When he locked eyes with you, he licked those devilish lips with a feline smile offered along with a soft groan.

“Oh, my darling girl, you’re a natural. Don’t fight it, relax. Let me feel your throat.” The praise was hissed through clenched teeth.

You fought down the instinct to reject the intrusion as it neared your throat, the muscles worked furiously and caused you to gag around him.

Shifting on your knees in discomfort, you blinked, letting the tears fall from your eyes. You gripped the base of his cock, squeezing roughly and heard him curse under his breath from the pressure. The nails from your free hand found purchase in the expensive material covering his thigh and bunched it in your frantic grip.

“Fuck. Oh, sweet fucking Jesus. Sweetheart, stop. That is enough!”

Suguru was practically yelling as he ripped your mouth from his saliva-drenched cock, the wet disconnect of your concaved cheeks followed by your rasping breaths filled the silence that followed.

A mixture of your saliva and his precum dripped to his tightly drawn balls, a wet stain spreading on the chair beneath him and his cheeks flushed in reaction.

It took a moment to find composure. Idly he stroked your hair to ensure you knew he wasn’t mad or displeased by your efforts, far from it. His palm traced your cheek, wiping away the remaining tears with his thumb. Gentle and reassuring, as if he weren’t breaking every code of ethics going.

“I think this is the first session where I have said more than you, my dear. I’d like the chance to make you feel good, will you let me do that? It would make me so very happy...”

Subconsciously your face had come to rest against the side of his knee, enjoying the soft petting and whispered words of praise more than you thought you ever would. Your dark God wanted to make you feel good, who were you to deny him that want? You were his disciple after all.

“I don’t feel worthy…”

He snorted. “Nonsense. I’ve wanted to take you to hell before gifting you heaven since the very first moment you walked into my office.”

What an honour, to have been regarded so highly by the genius that was Dr Geto, it spoke to that part of your psyche that you were meant to be working on. It filled you with warmth, that deep-seated desire to feel wanted and needed. This was far from healthy, anyone would see that but you didn't have the luxury of that insight.

“I’d like that… Suguru.”

The smile he flashed at you was like staring at the devil himself. Shame, it was tinted by your reverence.

You could only watch as he slowly undressed, standing for a moment to step out of his pants and underwear before kneeling in front of you. His face was so close, reaching out for you and admiring your features with a reverential eye. His thumb stroked your jawline, ending with it dragging your lower lip down and you dared to nip at the rough textured pad.

Inching closer, warm breath that smelled faintly spicy and laced with traces of tobacco fanned your cheek and you couldn’t bring yourself to look him in the eye. There was a tsk of admonishment followed by a gasp, your head tilted back with a sharp yank on your hair and you met the blazing stare of the man before you. Emotions were swirling in those polished obsidian irises that you couldn’t begin to fathom, the serpents of his wicked intent but to you, they were pretty star-filled skies.

His mouth hovered above yours, waiting, ever the patient man and giving you this one final chance to push away. To come to your fucking senses and run for the hills. You should. You really should get out before it was too late. There was time… if you kissed him now, it was game over. 

Yes, you held his cock in your fist and had taken him into your mouth but if you kissed him your fate would be sealed. Suguru conveyed this without saying a single word, he radiated his warning and demanded that you heed it.

You were the metaphorical shiny red apple, so perfect looking yet you were slowly rotting on the inside. The worm had found its way inside and was slowly eroding your purity, replacing it with sinful intentions and indecent thoughts. Who would have thought your handsome and prolific psychiatrist would be capable of such wickedness?

Time suspended when your lips met at long last, all soft touches at first, but quickly they turned heated and carnal. Suguru let you lead for a time, responding to the dance of your mouth but finally, he swept you into his arms on a whimpered sigh from your throat. 

His strong arms pulled you closer, palms flush against your back and you could feel his slicked-up cock press snugly against your stomach. You only parted long enough for him to help you remove the sweater that covered your pretty dress, the straps of which were shoved down your arms until you could feel the cold air on your skin.

Suguru chased the chill from your flesh, his touch ignited every part of you he touched and there was a deep part of you that longed to push your fingers into his hair. Never one to do something purely for selfish means, you were emboldened by the lust that washed through you, the knot of tension that tugged behind your navel and you dared to do it. Your fingers speared into the masses of his thick raven hair, nails scratching against his scalp and you were pushed to the floor as he groaned into your mouth from the unexpected sensation.

A palm spread your thighs apart and you squealed into his mouth at the first touch of his hand against your underwear. Your cotton panties were drenched and you were beyond mortified. His tongue flicked lazily against the front of your teeth before retreating.

“Is this all for me? I’m honoured.” Suguru traced the edge of your panties, hooking his thumbs behind the flimsy elastic band and tugging them down in swift movements. He knelt between your spread thighs and heat burst along your skin.

You covered your face with your palms, biting down on your fingers as the dark-haired male teased a sole finger along your slit. No one had touched you here like this other than yourself, you hadn’t allowed it. Plenty had wanted to, but something always held you back, it never felt right. This shouldn’t feel right, yet it did.

Strands of sticky arousal caked his finger in an instant, your hips rolled against the plush carpet and you watched through your fingers as he sucked that sticky finger entirely clean. It shouldn't make your insides squirm like a pit of writhing vipers, should it?

“Knew you’d taste sweeter than cream, you're gonna let me taste you properly, yeah?” he asked with a rasp, already lowering himself so his face peaked up from below the bunched skirt of your dress.

A quick nod and your back arched so high that you thought your spine might break clean in two. The fat stripe he licked along your folds curled your toes and your hands flew to his hair once more. Dark irises studied your expression, watched for every telltale sign of what you liked and stored it away for future use.

Your skin tasted more delicious than anything he had ever sampled, his nose nestled against the short curls at your mound and pressed against your bundle of nerves. He alternated between short sharp strokes of his tongue and long languid licks from below your clenching entrance right to your throbbing clit.

Suguru eased his fingers into your tight pussy, braced on one forearm that hooked around the outside of your hip. He held you down as best he could whilst you bucked and writhed as new sensations assaulted you from every direction.

You whined at the stretch from his digits but he refused to relent, knowing how much more the burn of his cock would feel without this much-needed prepping. How you managed to engage in sex without these pleasures was a mystery to him. No wonder you never enjoyed the experience.

He refused to acknowledge the warnings in the back of his mind, the way that he was becoming addicted to your scent and taste. He ignored how fucking amazing you made him feel every time you tugged on his hair or called his name out when you experienced something new. You were so responsive to his every touch, you were made for him and he would make you his before the day was out.

“Don’t hold back, darling, cum for me. You can do it, just let go.”

Suguru quickened the thrust of his fingers, curling them further to press down against the spot that was swelling from his expert attention. The very second his lips attached to your clit, you exploded like the most magnificent firework. 

Never had he heard such colourful language from you before, the cacophony of curses mingled with his name and the offerings to a God he did not believe in. His fingers were practically thrown from your pussy, the walls clenching down so tightly and the slippery release enough to make his eyes momentarily widen before he could compose himself. 

What a sight.

His innocent patient lying spread out on the floor of his office, hair fanning your head like an angel’s halo and your breasts close to spilling over the soft cups of your bra. Translucent arousal covered your thighs, the skin shiny and he had half a mind to simply lick you clean, but there were more pressing matters to attend to first.

It was evident you were still riding your orgasm, lip tightly tucked between your teeth and each gentle touch of his hands made you whimper and jerk. Suguru kissed a path up your torso, leaving sticky patches of your essence on your collarbone and neck as he lowered himself atop you.

His cock slid with ease along your messy folds, toying with you for only long enough to steal more kisses and interlock your fingers beside your head. This was the moment he had waited for, had hoped would come and after nearly a year, you were going to be his.

“Will you let me fuck your cute pussy, sweetheart?” he asked and almost immediately balked at himself. Why the fuck was he giving you an out, now? He should be splitting you open like he needed to, not asking for your fucking permission.

Suguru breathed a sigh of relief as you nodded shyly, gazing at him softly from below your lashes. You had just cum all over his face and fingers and yet you still looked like the most timid little flower—perfection.

Without a second's hesitation, he pressed forward, the pressure against his thick tip enough to make him grunt like an animal. He rocked himself back and forth, opening you further with each new thrust of his hips. You whimpered, whined and pressed your face into the crook of his neck with every stretch of your tight cunt.

How it burned, the sensation of being split apart was enough to bring fresh tears to your eyes and oh fuck, did you want to yell at him to stop. To stop moving, to pull out and let your thighs come together. The fear of his response stopped you, the familiar tingle of wanting to please filled your chest and your brain and all you could do was breathe through it.

It was different before. They were never as big or domineering as the cock currently carving you open. Suguru was moulding you to his length, demanding that you fit him like a silk glove.

You only half heard the whispered words of praise that he lavished upon you, every further inch that he bullied into your tight cunt resulted in more and more messy, open-mouthed kisses. You thought you might die or at least pass out. Stifling a sniffle, you tightened the fingers that laced with his own.

Suddenly, it stopped. 

The agonising pain of accepting Suguru into your body ceased, a warm feeling flooded your abdomen and you blinked up into a face twisted in pleasure.

“You’re so tight, I might not last…”

His voice was hoarse, strangled with the tendons on his neck on prominent display. Your hips pressed together, his cock so deep in your body that you were truly worried that he could rearrange your guts. When he pulled back, you moaned and it sounded like the most filthy noise you had ever made in your life.

Suguru gasped in reaction, obsidian eyes boring into your skull as his pace picked up. You could feel every part of him, your walls hugging and contoured to accommodate him to sheer perfection.

You were made to take this man, this darkly handsome man who manipulated you into this situation and used your weaknesses to his advantage. He was no God, he was the Devil and you had sold your soul to him. Signed your name in blood and there wasn’t a hint of regret in your mind.

The longer he stroked his cock into your pussy the bolder you became, you were the one to kiss him and suck on his swollen lips. Your tongue twisted around his and licked against his teeth. You arched your back, lifting your hips and shifting the angle of his cock to press just right on that special spot he had found earlier. You groaned in his ear and whispered for him to go faster, harder.

All he could do was everything that you asked of him. He had fallen hook, line and sinker for you. How things had twisted up in the jumble of lust.

For a second, Suguru frowned as a fleeting thought crossed his mind. Had you wanted this all along? Had you played him more than he had played you? It was gone in an instant as your head tipped back and you chanted his name in blind reverence.

“Suguru. Suguru! Oh fuck, Suguru!”

Once again, he felt your precipice and quickened to send you careening over the edge. Your thighs tightened around his lean hips, the pressure in his balls close to exploding when your walls milked him. 

You fell first, but you were bringing him with you this time. Clinging to him like he was the only anchor in a stormy sea, the knots within your stomach released all at once, and then you felt the white-hot heat of thick ropes of cum splashing against your thighs. When he had pulled out, you didn’t know. All you did know was that there was a faint tremor of disappointment that he had running through your mind.

For the longest time, you simply stared at one another, both coming down from your respective highs and not daring to look away.

The smile you gifted him was new. It made his head tilt whilst he observed you from above. After a long moment, he returned the smile and let his head sink against your heaving chest.

Who had corrupted who? Did it really matter when you both got exactly what you wanted?

[coochiequeens]

A patient said something she thought was in confidence and he (the doctor) shared it with staff? And now TRAs are harassing a woman fighting breast cancer? That doctor needs to lose his license for violating patient confidentiality

A woman in Oregon receiving treatment for breast cancer has been dropped by her health clinic of 12 years because she expressed views critical of gender ideology.

Marlene Barbera, who is scheduled for a mastectomy later this month, told Reduxx that she had commented on the presence of a transgender pride flag that was hanging in the waiting room of the Richmond Family Medical Clinic in Portland last year.

Barbera explained that she had written a message to her doctor on MyChart, a website where patients can access their personal health information, describing that she found the inclusion of “political messaging in a healthcare setting” as “offensive.”

She, like a growing number of women, has “gender critical” views, rejecting modern ideologies that conflate biological sex and “gender identity.” Barbera mentioned she had faced rape and death threats from trans activists on X (formerly Twitter), many of whom would have identified with that same flag.

Initially, the Doctor, who she revealed had been her primary care provider for over ten years, said that he would not take the flag down. But while Barbera had initially believed their correspondence to be private, she later discovered that the note to her physician had been viewed and shared by other staff at the clinic.

This June, while attempting to leave a message for her doctor regarding blood test results, the issue continued to escalate. A receptionist at the clinic, who Barbera speculated was transgender, did not permit her to be patched through to her doctor.

“The person insisted I make an appointment. I have breast cancer and consequently an abundance of medical appointments so I did not want to do that. They got frustrated with my ‘non-compliance’ and hung up on me,” Barbera told Reduxx.

“Thinking it might have been in error, I called back. I was told I was ‘not allowed’ and that I must speak to the previous person who had hung up on me. I declined as things hadn’t gone well the first time.”

She then questioned whether the refusal from the first receptionist was due to her previous complaint about the trans pride flag in the lobby.

“I asked, guessing ‘did I hurt the trans person’s feelings?’ And the receptionist took offense to the question, asking ‘what did you say‘ slowly and with great emphasis.”

Weeks later, Barbera received an email from Oregon Health Science University’s (OHSU) Stein Berger, informing her that she had been “discharged from receiving medical care at the Richmond Family Medicine Clinic,” effective immediately, with services to be cut off from all OHSU Family Medicine Clinics, including immediate care clinics, from July 29th. The email did in fact specify that she was being removed “because of ongoing disrespectful and hurtful remarks about our LGBTQ community and staff.”

Barbera told Reduxx that the incident had sent her “anxiety through the roof” and that she was struggling with her mental health as a result of the stress.

“I have severe chronic agitated depression since teen years,” Barbera explains. “Now I have no primary care doctor and nowhere else to go. I have been made to feel like a worthless nothing.”

This is not the first time a woman has lost access to critical medical services due to her “gender critical” views.

In October of last year, a woman identified as Emma by the UK’s Daily Mail was banned from having an operation in London’s Princess Grace Hospital because she requested single sex accommodation. The woman, who had been scheduled for a complex colorectal operation, also expressed that she did not want to “use pronouns or engage with such manifestations of gender ideology.”

Despite having experience being the victim of sexual assault, Emma was banned from having her procedure at the facility for requesting single-sex care.

[aliteralsemicolon]

what do u think about Maeve as a character and as a love interest for Spencer?

Well she definitely exists. She was definitely a canon love interest 😐 I choose to forget a lot of details from that whole incident on purpose. Talking about this is just beating a dead horse bc I think my opinion is just a general consensus.

but here's what I think anyway:

The storyline

I won't talk about it for long because I feel like it's obvious, but the whole situation was handled so poorly. It kinda just showed up out of no where on one random peaceful day. What do you mean Maeve didn't want Spencer to get the BAU involved because 'it could endanger him'? Babe, he's already in danger just by being in a relationship with you, but I guess that just doesn't fucking matter. Also, what the fuck do you mean that Spencer just went along with it? I'm sorry? Spencer Reid, who becomes very impulsive when it comes to the wellbeing of his loved ones? He just agreed to sit back? Not even investigate in his free time?! By the time ZUGZWANG happens, we as viewers know how the BAU operates. The BAU was more than equipped to successfully deal with Diane. We know what they're supposed to do in a stalker situation, but for some reason they ignore nearly every goddamn protocol and then they're surprised when Maeve dies??

Maeve as a character

Listen, I don't dislike her because she was Spencers love interest. I'm actually somebody who's very keen on love interests for Spencer. I want that poor man to be happy. I dislike Maeve because she's one of the worst recurring characters on the show. She's very morally annoying. Not grey, annoying. Maeve is a geneticist. Geneticists, for the most part, study gene interactions and evolution. She has no fucking business diagnosing and prescribing shit from one look at an MRI scan. I don't even wanna talk about how medically inaccurate the migraine bit of the storyline is. Somehow it gets dumber. I don't know what she said for sure, but I know for a fact that she said something like she had to get to know Spencer because of how interesting he seemed. FROM HIS MRI SCANS?! Are we ignoring how unethical this is? Please, I cannot fucking do this. But there's more. Apparently she loves Spencer. She says as much at the end of a phone call AND literally writes that one love quote in the Narrative of John Smith for him. She loves Spencer, but fails to mention how she was engaged literally not long before she met him. And she doesn't feel an ounce of guilt or sadness when he ex-fiancé (whom she also supposedly loved) gets shot in the head in front of her? Also there's certain times where she just comes off as very emotionally manipulative, but in the dumbest way possible. The thing is that I don't even hate her because she's like this. Some of these things actually give the character potential to become a really interesting and complex character. It's because she tries to come across as the opposite. The writers try very hard to portray her as an intelligent, good and innocent character, but everything she does is very selfish and stupid. Personally, if I was a geneticist and some fucker reached out to me to ask about his MRI scans I would redirect him to a fucking neurologist or something.

Maeve as Spencer's love interest

She's introduced to us a mysterious woman over the payphone. We get glimpses of her body in a dark room and we watch her fiddle with things while walking around, but we don't actually get to see her face until later. Her voice is meek and sultry. If this sounds like some wattpad introduction then that's because that's literally what it is. Maeve is introduced to us in a very Y/N esc way. The whole relationship is very much wattpad story written by a 14YO back in the day. Wait I take that back, even fucking 14YO's writer better shit. At least their stories were worth ruining your sleep schedule for. I can't even be upset, Maeve is literally not the first female character portrayed this way on the show *cough* Jane Seaver *cough*. MGG didn't want Spencer to have a love interest so Maeve was written to die. I just wish they at least tried to do the characters and the story justice. Viewers couldn't even connect to Maeve because she was just thrown at us one day and then literally killed a second later. Even if she wasn't unlikable I find it very hard to imagine that I would've cared about her death, because I literally had no time to bond with the character. It's also just very awkward when she shows up after her death because I feel disconnected with Spencer's emotions. Mentally, I know that she's his first great love or whatever, but emotionally, I do not give a fuck. She does not match Spencer's freak. What she is, essentially, is a female version of Spencer (but through the male gaze because she's a woman so ofc she's slightly dumber and Y/Nified). Spencer is one of the most complex established characters on the show and Maeve as a partner for him is just very boring. And even if she's was interesting, I PERSONALLY FEEL LIKE the actors have no chemistry together. He's had more chemistry with love interests that lasted for a way shorter period than he does Maeve. Ironically, the most chemistry he has is with the one person he despises the most (Cat Adams) and I think that speaks volumes. God, I wish so badly that they utilised the bar tender he did a magic trick for or the forensic scientist in that bombing episode.

Again, I'm pretty sure most of the fandom feels this way. I'm fairly confident that I might have more to say, but I cannot be bothered anymore.

[buckyarchives]

Metal Arms and Short Skirts | Bucky Barnes. [1]

summary: waltzing in as the new head of the Avenger's medical division, impressing everyone, and... scaring Bucky with your incredibly short skirts. while Bucky's having a hard time looking at his arm as anything other than a deadly weapon, and you're more than happy to help him.

word count: 5.6k author note: this started as a small, very self indulgent short story that i had no plans of finishing nor posting but here i am. this is also a sort of mini story while write a much longer/ complex story. i hope to have this finished by the end of jan. my inbox is open for prompts to write as small drabbles! enjoy!

outfit reference (because it kinda important, but you can change it if you'd like; this is just for visuals) outfit one and outfit two

story playlist here

READ ON AO3 | masterlist

A soft knock at the door echoed and Bucky’s eyes sprung open, making himself aware of his surroundings as he began rubbing the drowsiness from his eyes with his flesh hand. His gaze pans to the small clock, ‘6:00 am’, it read. 

“Buck? You up?” Bucky’s head snapped toward the familiar voice. He called out a quick, muffled response while slipping on some pants. Bucky knotted his eyebrows as he crept towards the door, drowsiness still lingering. A small scowl decorated Bucky’s face, the knock catching him off-guard. Today was a scheduled free for Bucky.

Bucky opened the door to be met with Steve's face, “what is it?” Bucky asked.

“I told you last night, we gotta get to the lab and fix your arm.” Steve replied, eyes glancing at the bent and crushed panels on his forearm. Sparring was fun until Steve throws his shield a little too fast and Bucky is just a little too late to catch or dodge. “And this is the only time today that Tony is free to fix it, so put a shirt on, and let's go.”

Bucky grumbled under his breath at the orders, he wasn't one to sleep in or mess around with his strict schedule but it had been a rough week. A mission went wrong, and a trip to the med wing. Bucky wanted to be just a little self-indulgent and maybe have a late start by choice. He turned and grabbed a black, sleeveless shirt from his closet. Sleeveless made the process a lot easier and he prayed to any god that Tony wasn't going to be a pain in the ass this morning. 

“Ready?” Steve spoke up as Bucky emerged from his room, a quick pat on the shoulder as he nodded in response. 

The two boys walked side by side towards the med wing, this was the 3rd visit to the lab this week, and it was only Thursday. Bucky decided then and there that were a couple of too many times for his liking. He hoped this went by fast. On the way they both ran into a certain black widow, Steve nearly tripped over Natasha as she walked out of the training room. 

“Hey boys, where you headed too?” she spoke as she began to walk with them down the hall, a bead of sweat dripping from her forehead. 

“Last night's match got a little too fast and I accidentally jammed the shield in Buck's arm, headed to Tony to get it fixed real quick,” Steve spoke, Natasha eyed the smashed vibranium.

Natasha's eyebrows furrowed slightly, “Tony’s in DC right now?”

“Huh?”

“Flew out last night, had some emergency meeting. Said it was no big deal.”

Bucky scoffed under his breath. “Well I'm sure someone is there to fill in or Tony would have sent me a message,” Steve said, hopeful as always.

Bucky wasn't sure if he was happier or more annoyed at the fact Tony wouldn't be working on his arm. Pro; it's not tony. Con; it's a stranger– unless Bruce pulls a medical engineering Ph.D. out of his ass, which in full honestly would not surprise anyone too much. 

An elevator ride and too many hallways later, the trio walked toward the lab, no one looked to be inside from the outside, and Bucky peered through the windows. He thought how bad it would be to turn around and go back to bed now, but Steve made everyone walk in– ‘just to check.

It was quiet for a moment, besides the subtle sound of whirring machines. Soon the large lab door slides open, “I'm so sorry I'm late! I'm filling in for Tony, he had a meeting.”

you walked through the door with a large iPad and a couple of books in hand, you set them down on a bench with a loud thud. Natasha said your name surprised, calling your attention to her.

“I didn’t know you were working at the compound, did Tony just transfer you?” she spoke, Bucky and Steve didn’t recognize you but Natasha seemed to be familiar.

You smiled brightly at Natasha, “yes. Tony wants me here permanently instead of California to give Helen a break from traveling here from Korea every time someone gets a bullet wound; which seemed to happen too often. ” you spoke confidently, “I think Tony just wants me closer to him.”

Natasha chuckled softly and rolled her eyes, “oh, I'm sure. I think you are the only one besides Pepper that can make him slow down.”

“Tony? Slow down?” Steve perked up, joking along.

“Yeah because I'm the only one he trusts with his oh-so-precious work,” you spoke sarcastically before turning towards Steve and Bucky, holding your hand out to greet the two super-soldiers. Introducing yourself, Steve spoke your name back to you, and you smiled.

“It's nice to meet you, and don't worry about being late– we just got here.” Steve shook your hand firmly before you turned to Bucky.

You brought your hand up to shake his hand while your eyes widened and filled with curiosity once you saw his left arm, you attempted to hide it, but Bucky noticed it quickly. He shook your hand. “It's nice to finally meet you and work on– I mean with you Mr. Barnes” you stumbled over your words.

“Call me Bucky, please.” Bucky replied, his hand falling back to his side. 

Bucky wore a confused look after he noticed your attire, questioning if you truly were the engineer slash doctor to work on his arm in Tony Starks place. Your hair was done up, you had a tiny, baby-blue shirt on, made out of bunched-up tulle fabric, it was off the shoulder with the sheer tulle fabric puffing up on your sleeves. 

Your skirt was matching and incredibly short and tight, despite the shortness, a small slit was on up your thigh. Bucky’s eyes fell all the way down to the floor, white boots that wrapped tightly around your calves and stopped around your knee. Not missing the huge, chunky heel that definitely gave you a few inches.

Muffled small talk between you and Natasha started as Bucky took a seat next to Steve, you moved confidently around the lab as if you owned it, pulling the specific tools and materials to start working. Bucky watch you curiously and thought despite your utter confidence and bliss, you looked out of place in the lab.

Your outfit felt so out of place; colorful, fun, and playful against the lab scenery. Bucky imagined seeing you on the new york city streets, walking around with a young and trendy outfit, a model-like strut like you owned the city. The usual sight of scientists here had a boring, toned-down outfit, usually under a lab coat. You sported none of that.

“In full transparency Bucky, since you joined the team I've been asking Tony for a while to work with you, I have many ideas for your arm.” He snapped out of his trance once you addressed him, head turned towards Bucky as you ran your hands under the sink. “I hope you're comfortable with that.”

Bucky just shrugged in response, you laughed lightly at his response. “Well then, can you sit over here for me?” you pointed to a lowered workbench in the center of the room, and Bucky plopped down on it next to your books. Natasha took his place next to Steve across from bucky

Natasha spoke up, “Stark get you your own lab yet? I know how you are about your space.”

Your warm laughter filled Bucky’s ears again, he found himself enjoying the sound ringing in his head. “Tony said as long as I get along with everyone and stop blowing things up I could stay– though I think he has no room to speak.” you joked.

“I have no doubts though, he seemed pretty adamant about making me the head of the lab and medical wing here?”

“Impressing everyone as always I see,” Natasha spoke warmly, you scrunched your face up slightly, smiling shyly at the compliment. 

You caught Bucky off guard for a moment once you asked for permission to grab his lower forearm, already one point better than Tony as he usually would just grab it harshly and get to work. “I try my best.”

“It seems you’ve been working with Tony for while, how come I've never seen you around?” Steve asked, he leaned forward with his elbows propped against his knees. Curious eyes placed on you, Bucky knew that look.

A concentrated gaze took over your face, and your tongue stuck out a little on the side as you worked slowly to get the crushed plates out of Bucky’s arm. Bucky took note of your almost perfect nails, they were long and glossy with a baby blue color and gems. Matching your outfit. 

“Well, Tony definitely put me to work so I haven't had much time to catch up with the avengers. I know Natasha when she was “Tony's assistant.’” you snort, throwing your hands up around the assistant. Natasha smirked.

Steve was impressed– to say the least, humming in response. “Tony has taken a liking to me and always finds jobs for me so I’m constantly traveling and working. I've been pretty busy the past few years so it would make sense to have missed you.”

“Oh, and you have like a million Ph.D.’s” Natasha added.

“Only five.”

Natasha throws her hands up dramatically, blowing raspberries in a mocking manner. “only.”

“A very impressive resume.” Steve teased, Bucky couldn’t help but be impressed as well, especially with being so young. He was also impressed at the delicacy of which you worked, your hands were so steady and Bucky could barely notice you working. More points ahead of Stark.

“All that and I don't think I’ve ever seen you in a bad outfit.” Natasha teased, her eyes traveling up your outfit. “Or hair.”

A shy smile grew on your face, “as long as it doesn’t affect my work, the short skirts stay on.” you winked playfully towards Natasha as she rolled her eyes at the gesture. 

“I’m just glad you finally are settling down in one lab, I missed seeing you around.” Natasha smiled fondly at you. “Found a place to stay yet?”

“Yes! I found a nice apartment close by, Tony wanted to give me a room here but I declined,” you said. Natasha put on an overexaggerated frown.

All the crushed panels were gone and the hardware inside was almost put back in place. Natasha and Steve were both in their own bubble, chatting away about some old mission. Bucky sat staring at you and your hands as you worked. His eyes shamefully traveled towards your thighs, your skirt was traveling up and a little bit and more of the skin on your thighs could be seen.

His head snapped away and towards the two avengers when Natasha's phone went off. apparently, Agent Hill needed the two so after a quick goodbye from Steve and a teased, exaggerated wink from Natasha, the two were gone and Bucky was left alone with you. Bucky tried to keep his eyes averted from your thighs or exposed stomach from your cropped top, but the growing redness on his face said otherwise.

“I really do hope to work with you in the future, make some better use of this arm, yeah?” you spoke up, beginning to replace the old panels with new ones, putting them together like puzzle pieces. 

“My arm’s perfectly fine.” Bucky mumbled.

You nodded slowly, “yes, it is. But, it can be improved. I can add some new tech, you know? Make it stronger, more flexible, add some cybernetic defenses or maybe some built-in sensory rays, and build something in like Natasha bracelets, that deliver some powerful electric discharge.”

Bucky listens to you ramble on about his cyborg arm, your face lit up as you talked about all the possibilities. Your hands are still steady at work on the vibranium. “Is all that really necessary?”

“I think it is, considering fighting is your job. But, if you don't think so, I won’t anything, it’s just an idea.” your eyes are still laser-focused on his arm, not looking at you. Bucky’s eyes glanced back down to your thigh. “And extra tech would make your arm so much cooler.”

Bucky scoffed, “this thing is not cool.”

Your eyes finally left his arm and you looked up at Bucky through your lashes, “I think it’s pretty cool” you smiled slightly at him before going back at his arm.

Cool? he doesn't think anyone's ever called his arm cool. Bucky's eyes left you and he looked forward, defocusing and staring off into space. “Anything you want to be changed or added?”

A few snarky responses came to mind but they fell short on Bucky’s tongue. Bucky wasn’t going to respond and let the silence answer for him, but his eyes flashed toward the blood-red color on his shoulders. 

“Maybe get rid of the star.” Bucky sighed, he said it like it was a sacred confession. Shame laced in his tone. Like no matter how hard he tried to redeem himself, or erase his mind of Hydra– the star painted on his shoulder would never let him rid of it all. Like a branding.

You smiled fondly at him from across the lab, with no disgust or fear. An unusual sight recently with every other agent recoiling from his presence by just living. “Yeah, I can do that. Do you like black? I can do black, oh! Or gold, that'd be cool.”

Bucky could only watch in awe as you contiuned to mumble random colors under your breath, fascinated by the fact you could be anything other than afraid of the machine of an arm. Your wheeled chair scooted closer and Bucky could feel like puffy tule fabric against his leg, his eyes averted sideway, towards your body again. Your skirt was making him nervous, how did you wear outfits like this to work every day? 

You had started to notice Bucky’s eyes ghosting over your outfit mid-conversation with Steve, brushing it off then so you wouldn't embarrass the man in front of his peers. But it was starting to bother you now, did your outfit look bad? Was something out of place? 

“Something wrong with my outfit, Mr. Barnes?” 

“Bucky.” he corrected, his eye darted toward you, a red flush growing on his face now that you noticed his lingering eyes. He was a fool for thinking you wouldn't notice. “Your skirt scares me.”

Your hands stopped working, being taken aback by Bucky’s response. You look up at him confused, a sort of dumbfounded look on your face. “I’m sorry?”

“I mean this with no disrespect, but it's just very short…” his sentence trails up, leaving it at that in hopes of not offending you or writing himself off as a creep. His face was flushed with red so he wasn’t sure how convincing it was, “not that I was- uh, looking at you like that”

‘Well,” your eyes fell back on the metal panel, screw in hand. “I might call you a gentleman for caring about my decently.” you teased, Bucky let out a small sigh knowing you didn’t take his concerns the wrong way.

“But don't worry, sergeant. I’m wearing safety shorts under,” you smirked, getting up from your  seat and swiftly pulling your skirt down. “All done! Do your little arm thing.’

Bucky was caught off guard. Eyebrows furrowed in your direction, “how do you know about that?”

“Like I haven't mentioned enough, I’m very familiar with your work. I've seen videos of you fighting, you do that thing where you like spin in to stretch it out.” you laughed, backing up and attempting a half-assed version of imitating him and spinning your arm in a small circle. Bucky stifled back an amused laugh at the sight, pushing back the thought of thinking you looked quite cute doing it. 

Bucky shook his head, cocking it slightly to the right. And did the arm thing. Watching your face as he did it. Weirdly enough, you smiled with amusement at the sight. ‘“Yeah, that thing!” 

“You are very interesting, has anyone told you that?”

“Yes and I’m choosing to take it as a compliment. Now I have to clean up here and get some other things done, you're free to go Mr. Barnes.” you put away the tools and discharged the old metal plates to be melted down for other uses later. 

“Bucky.” he repeated. 

Turning to him with books and iPad in your arms. “Yes, sorry. Bucky.” you smiled at him and walked past him towards the doorway, you practically strutted out of the lab. Calling back at him before leaving. 

“It was wonderful meeting you!” and you were gone with no room to respond. 

Bucky stood slightly dumbfounded and a little… impressed? In the middle of the lab before seeing the text from steve to meet him in the training room, a groan escaped his mouth hoping he could have one off day. 

What made everything worse is that he had to endure a few too many direct hits from Steve and Sam during their sparing session. Bucky'smind had been somewhere else for the past few hours, puzzled since usually a good training sesh would help him tap out of everything. But his mind seemed plagued with you.

 The way you spoke about his arm like it was the most amazing thing ever like it hadn’t been the cause of so many deaths. Your complete and utter confidence in your every move and sound. Your outfit, your skirt, and the way it kept riding up your thighs. 

Bucky needed a nap.

******

The commons room was close to silent, weirdly silent. it was midday and Bucky sat on a chair, close to a window with his head down into a book. Sam sat close to Steve at the bar, with small and soft chatter. Wanda and Clint were lazily sprawled across the couch, some movie or sitcom playing silently, yet still creating the most noise in the room. The occasional hearty laugh comes from Steve or Sam as they converse competing with the television. 

A few chapters later of Bucky’s book the soft sound of a familiar heels clicking entered the quiet common room. His eyes attempted to stay on the pages but curiosity got the best of him and Bucky raised his head slowly to look at you, you were standing close right next to Sam and Steve talking about something. Steve had that big goofy smile on his face and Sam was shaking your hand, Bucky assumed this was the first time Sam has met you. 

Your outfit was more mellow than his last interaction with you. A white high-neck tank top hugged your body and another very short black denim skirt that had pleads in it. Over all of that was crocheted black sweater, it hug low and off your shoulder. It looked so thin and the loops so big, bucky pondered on why you were even wearing it. Sam laughed loudly and Bucky wondered what was so funny.

A gasp came from Wanda and her eyes widened in your direction. “Oh my god! Your boots are so adorable!” everyone's head turned to the redhead as she got up from the couch frantically to get a closer look at your knee-high, skin-tight boots. “Are those the steve madden boots? I've heard they're a pain to get on?”

You laughed and Bucky got whiplash, he forgot how nice it sounded. Rolling onto your heels as you looked down at your boots, looking back up at Wanda with a soft smile. “Yeah, they are” Clint's head was now perked up and everyone in the room now had their eyes on you. You didn’t falter under their gazes. “And yes, squeezing my claves into these should count as a physical exercise.”

“I've been trying to find some forever, they've been sold out everywhere,” Wanda said. “They look amazing on you!”

A large smile grew on your face and Bucky swears he saw a sliver of shiny metal shine above your top set of teeth, as it’s said curiosity kills the cat and he was already up from his chair to investigate. Quiet footsteps brought him close beside Steve. 

“What’s up, cyborg.” Sam greeted him and Bucky shrugged back a mumbled nothing. Wanda was still gushing about your outfit and Bucky was trying not to look like a total creep staring at your face to see what was in your mouth. 

“Party going on here or something? Without me too, I’m offended.” Clint joined the circle around the bar. Your head perked in his direction. 

A few loud steps toward Clint as your finger swiped at your iPad. “Mr. Barton, I have some new arrow designs for you! I got pretty impressive ones courtesy of Dr. pym.” as you spoke to Clint, you were much closer to Bucky now, maybe he was staring too hard. He watched your lips move, noticing the metal ring sat above your top row teeth, resembling something of a bull ring. Bucky's eyebrows furrowed slightly. 

“Pym? Isn't he the one that made the suit for that dude that can shrink and get big?” Sam spoke up. You stifled a laugh, shaking your head.

“Your talking about Scott Lang right? Dr. Pym likes to call him Ant-man.” you corrected Sam swiftly. “I worked with Dr. Pym briefly years ago, he owes me a few favors so now Clint gets some cool arrows.” 

“Hell yeah!” Clint said.

“Alright I have to head to the lab soon, I got some new tech for you too Sam so I expect both you and Clint to meet me there tomorrow to play around with it” you pointed your index finger toward sam with a coy grin on your face. 

Sam's eyebrow perked up, “i thought you were a doctor? Like Helen?” he asked with his arms crossed across his chest.

“For your information, I have a very impressive engineering resume. Tony wouldn’t like me so much if I just treated bullet wounds.” grin was still apparent on your face as you spoke. Your sheer confidence intimidated Bucky, whether he’d admit that to himself or not. 

“I have to head out now, it was a pleasure meeting you guys.”

Everyone except Bucky said a short goodbye as your clicking heels faded into the distance slowly. Wanda practically skipped back to the couch to watch her sitcom. Bucky must have been staring too hard because he earned a harsh nudge to his side from Sam. “Dude, you got a bad staring problem.” 

“What?” his eyebrows still furrowed, the creases around his forehead accentuated more. 

“Bucky, you were staring at her lips the moment you walked over here,” Steve added, eyebrows raises and a teased look across his face. Bucky rolled his eyes.

“She had– like something…” Bucky trailed off, motioning his index finger toward his mouth, trying to find the words to describe whatever was in your mouth. “It looked like a ring or something.”

“It's a smiley piercing.”

Bucky winched, “why would it be there though?”

A quick laugh came from Sam as he playfylly slapped his shoulder. “Man, you really are old.”

An offended look grew on Bucky’s face but before he could protest against Sam or send a snarky comment back, Clint spoke up. “Maybe he's just saying that to cover up for thinking she's cute.” Clint teased Bucky, a shit-eating grin across his face. 

“Whatever,” Bucky spoke, deciding his time of relaxing was over and he needed to hit the gym before dinner. 

But before he could leave the room a quick yell from Clint could be heard, “the robots not denying it!” 

Bucky didn’t say anything to entertain that comment. Continuing his way to the gym, followed by a grunt and a quick roll of his eyes. He totally is not thinking of you or your outfits.

*****

It was early morning and the smell of buttermilk pancakes filled bucky’s nostrils, reminding him slightly of when his Ma would cook for him and Steve after a sleepover. But instead, it was Sam making the pancakes, swaying ever so slightly on his feet as he hums to some song. Steve sat next to him with a newspaper in hand. Natasha joined their breakfast a little late, having just come back from a mission. 

Sam handed him a plate of food and it didn’t take long for him to finish it and put the empty plate back in the sink to be cleaned later. Steve piped up, “anyone wants to join me on my run this morning? Sam?”

Sam turned the stove off and put away the dirty mixing bowl, “Nah man, I gotta head outside soon and test out that new tech with Clint”

Natasha's head perked up in interest, asking Sam if he was meeting you. A quick nod and hum in agreement.

“She refuses to tell me what she did to my wings, said it has to be a surprise.” he grinned. Bucky has started to notice the way you’re becoming a prominent member of this ‘team’, with your name seemly popping up in every conversation somehow. 

Everyone was growing to like you more and more. Bucky could understand why that is but so much about you was so unknown, curiosity filled his mind whenever he thought about you. That is, he totally doesn't spend his off time thinking of you.

“I’m more than positive that girl is going to have ahold of the entire team’s tech by the end of the month,” Natasha spoke. “She’s beyond impressive in her element.” 

Bucky thought of a stupid idea for a moment, not being able to hold himself back. “Can I come with?” Bucky asked Sam.

Everyone's head perked towards the brunette, the looks across everyone’s face could only be described as udder amusement but also confusion. 

“I mean, I don't see why not.” Sam shrugged, almost unsure of his answer. 

Natasha scoffed playfully. “I think Clint was right.” 

“What?” Bucky spoke.

“Clint thinks you have a crush on her.” Natasha spoke, sporting an amused grin. “said, and I quote, ‘he was staring at her and her lips like his life depended on it.’”

An almost offended look grew on Bucky’s face, “was not”

Natasha just shrugged, but still wore a smirk on her face as he watched Bucky leave the kitchen next to Sam. Steve's eyes were still locked onto his newspaper like the old man he is but Natasha couldn't contain herself. 

“Can you tell when bucky’s interested in people?” she asked Steve.

Steve thought for a moment, “I mean back then he would talk sweetly to any girl he could get on the dance floor, but now. I’m not so sure.” 

Natasha hummed in response. “I don't know though, bucky was giving her some looks in the lab and also in the common rooms yesterday,” Steve added quickly.

“Interesting.”

On the other side of the building, Sam and sucky walked side by side as they approached the entrance to the training yard. With the shining sunlight hitting their faces, Bucky kinda wished he grabbed sunglasses. 

You and Clint stood in the middle, a couple of meters away from some targets, assuming your arrow test runs have already started. Your head perked towards the two avengers and a warm smile grew on your face as you brought your hand up to shield your eyes from the sun. 

“Hey guys!” you yelled, waving your hand in their direction. Bucky was surprised to see you in just a plain black t-shirt and shorts, your shorts were still very short. But at this point that didn’t surprise him. You greeted the both of them, with a notepad in your hands. “goodmorning” 

“Alright, watcha got for me doc.” Sam started right into it, jokingly rubbing his hands together in greed.

You laughed softly, “we’ll get to you when it's your turn.’

“I’m excited to see Clint use his Pymarrows.” you turned towards Clint with eyes full of pure desire. Bucky might just have a staring problem or he might have just thought you kinda did look cute. 

You pulled a few sets of arrows out of a case and started to ramble on about them, using terms bucky wished he understood. “Okay Clint, you’re going to shoot this arrow up high so the arrow hits straight into the ground, far away from us though.”

You pulled a second arrow out, “and then shoot this one forward right after that so they meet in the air, do you understand? Can you do that?”

Clint nodded yet had a confused look on his face. “Yes, but what's gonna happen?

“You’ll see,” you spoke with a sly smirk, the look on your face concerned the three men. Even more, after a mumbled ‘tony is going to kill me’ escaped your lips.

Clint positioned himself to shoot the arrow high up, and it went up. Next, grabbing the second one from you and swiftly getting in the correct position to hit the first one mid-air, letting the arrow go and as it flew threw the air and came in contact with the first one, Bucky (along with the rest of the group) breath caught in his throat at the sight before him.

 Tony was so going to kill you.

“Holy shit.” Sam breathed out.

The first arrow Clint shot grew ten times its size. hitting straight into the lawn, probably leaving a meter-wide hole as it stood up straight into the air, the height of an old tree. Bucky had to crane his head up to see the top. The three boy’s mouths gaped open at the sight while it looked like you were going to burst from excitement.

“Yes! It worked!” you jumped up and down, dramatically throwing your fist in the air like a child. “That's so fucking cool!”

“Oh my god” was the only thing Clint could say, muttering under his breath with his bow still in his hands. “I feel like I’m not responsible enough for this”

Bucky realized why Natasha spoke so highly of you now, he was utterly impressed and his curiosity only grew larger at this moment. He let out a breath and realized he was in for it now. 

Bucky found somewhere to sit as he watched you work on arrows and other technology as Clint practiced with a plethora of trick arrows. Seeing the look in your eyes as you explain how they worked or watching your invention sparked something in Bucky, you looked like you were glowing. 

Bucky continued to keep close eyes on you while you explained to Sam his new technology, it was also nice seeing Sam's face light up as he tested all his new features, you definitely were having an effect at the compound.

“Hah, soon enough I'll be able to take you easily, Barnes.” Sam snarked towards Bucky.

“In your dreams, Wilson.” a soft smile rose to Bucky’s face. You notice and realized that was the first time you had seen Bucky’s smile.

Sam went back to fly around, testing his new cruise configurations or new thrusters. You were standing closer to Bucky now, your head turned to him. “You should do that more often,” you spoke softly in his direction.

“What?” Bucky’s head turned to see you looking fondly down at him.

“Smile, your smile is nice.” 

Bucky didn’t say anything, he was more than sure a slight red tint grew to his cheeks and the tips of his ears. He panned his head back to Sam, beginning to fidget by playing with the grass on the ground beside him like a small child. You soon joined Bucky, sitting next to him on the ground.

The awkward silence between the two of you killed Bucky, his head panned back over to you soon enough. You were writing down what Bucky assumed to be notes, your tongue slightly sticking out at the corner in concentration. He noted the plainness of your outfit again.

“No cool outfit today?” Bucky asked innocently

Your eyes met his and he crumbled, you smiled so brightly toward him. “You think my outfits are cool?” you spoke, you aren’t going to lie and say you weren't basking in the validation from the super-soldier. You spent too much time and money on your outfits for people to not amend you for it. You felt slightly giddy, today was a good day.

Bucky shrugged in response, fumbling over his words slightly. Losing his focus while you gave him such a look. “I mean, uh– yeah, they're a lot, but they're cool…”

Smooth, so smooth james.

“Thank you,” you said, going back to writing down notes. Bucky let out a breath. “I’m taking advantage of the compounds gym so I don't have to pay a membership at a public one anymore. I came from a workout before this.”

Bucky just nodded and hummed in agreement. Clint cleaned up his arrows and took one last amused look at the still very large arrow sticking out the front of the ground. 

“You gonna take care of that or..?” 

You giggled under your breath, squinting your eyes to look up at Clint. “Yeah, I’ll shrink it down and explain to Tony why theirs a big hole in the ground later. You can go if you’d like, I’ll drop off extra trick arrows later.”

You smiled warmly at Clint and grabbed the rest of his stuff before bidding you goodbye, “tell birdy I said bye, see you later lovebirds!” Clint shouted out as he headed for the doors. You shook your head at the teasing comment. 

Bucky just felt more warmth spread to his ears.

[yokohamapound]

This is very silly - but what would the reactions be of the ADA to you, a friend, abruptly crashing through the ceiling?

“Hey, Ron.” “Hey, Billy.”

Characters: Dazai Osamu, Kunikida Doppo, Nakajima Atsushi, Izumi Kyouka, Tanizaki Jun'ichirou, Edogawa Ranpo, Yosano Akiko, Fukuzawa Yukichi

Contents: gn! reader, falling through ceilings

Dazai Osamu

Dazai does a credible job of masking any surprise when you come collapsing through the ceiling. Do you know why? Because he isn’t surprised at all. He’s sitting on one of the green couches in the reception area, his headphones cupped over his ears, when the ceiling splits open and dumps you into the office.

His eyes flicker open briefly as your form rushes past him to tumble to the floor at his feet in a cascade of insulation and plaster. 

You’ll never know whether or not he deliberately loosened that board in the loft before he sent you rooting around up there for whatever obscure object he wanted from storage, but you have your suspicions, and he knows you have your suspicions. 

“Nice of you to drop in. The vacuum’s around here somewhere. Best not leave that mess or Kunikida will go through the roof, and then we’ll have a skylight.”

Kunikida Doppo

Kunikida is just trying to get through his day, to follow his schedule, and make sure that all his paperwork is filled out correctly and on time.

Imagine his despair when you crash through the ceiling tiles and land on his desk. He stiffens, then expels a deep, bone weary sigh as plaster dust settles on his shoulders and hair, making him look like he’s turning prematurely grey—which he might, at this rate.

He removes his glasses and takes out a small cloth to polish the dust off them, before placing them back on his face and pushing them back up the bridge of his nose with his fingertips.

“I presume you’re not injured?” When you assure him that you’re winded but nothing’s broken, he nods. “I’m going to have to fill out another purchase order for building repairs. I really don’t have time for this.”

Nakajima Atsushi

Poor Atsushi. He’s just minding his own business when you come crashing through into the office. His jaw falls open, but he’s only shocked for a moment. His hero complex kicks in and he throws himself forward, slamming into the ground a moment before you do and letting his own body break your fall. 

Martyr much, Atsushi?

“Are you okay?” he babbles, when you roll off him. 

He’s fussing like an old woman, trying to pat you down to make sure nothing is broken. 

“Do you need to go to the hospital? What happened?!”

Yosano Akiko

Yosano’s been with the Armed Detective Agency for long enough that she’s seen almost everything in her time. You stepping on a busted floor panel up in the lift and falling ass-over-teakettle through the ceiling?

No biggie.

She emerges from her medical room, already snapping on a pair of latex gloves with alarming efficiency. Her eyes glint.

“Oh, dear. That looks like it hurts. Shall I make it better?”

“No! No, I’m fine, just winded!”

“Now, now, you might have broken something…”

Izumi Kyouka

For all her apparently stoic, emotionless demeanour, Kyouka hasn’t lost her startle reflex. When you come tumbling in from the loft, she immediately suspects it is some kind of targeted attack from the Port Mafia, the Guild, the Rats in the Hall of the Dead, the Hunting Dogs (dude, the ADA has got to up their life-insurance policies), or even some new threat.

She launches Demon Snow into attack mode, only to realise it’s you face-planting amidst a snowdrift of broken plaster and crap from storage. 

“...”

Kyouka stares at you.

“You should be more careful.”

Gee, thanks, Kyouka.

Edogawa Ranpo

Ranpo’s been waiting for this to happen to someone ever since he noticed the hairline crack running along the ceiling plaster. The second he heard someone tell you to go upstairs and rummage through those boxes of old files, he’s been counting down the moments.

“Five, four, three, two, one…”

On cue, you come tumbling down from the attic. 

He pops a chocolate truffle into his mouth and looks over at you from his desk, where he’s lounging back in his chair with his feet up on the wooden surface. 

“Hey, now you’re down here, could you get me a soda?”

Tanizaki Jun’ichirou

It takes Tanizaki a little while to notice the ceiling bulging. He yelps when you come tumbling through, scattering paperwork and Naomi and pens everywhere.

Another graduate from the School of Martyrdom, Tanizaki’s solution is to fling himself forward to try and catch you. With mostly ends up with getting in your way and sending you to the floor in a tangle of limbs.

Naomi, seeing this, immediately rushes up to the attic to have her turn. 

Fukuzawa Yukichi

I don’t know why, but I feel like Fukuzawa is highly attuned to the sounds around him, down to the vibration of the air. He’ll feel a disturbance (in the Force) before the ceiling cracks open. Perhaps a few grains of plaster dust will trickle down and alert him to the impending disaster.

His head jerks up. He knows you were sent up into the loft/attic of the office building on some errand. It doesn’t take even his honed instincts to put two and two together.

In a blur of motion, surprisingly fast for a man of his years, he springs forward and extends his arms, snatching you from mid-fall before you can splat on the office floorboards. He holds you aloft, a stoic expression on his face as a piece of ceiling tile lands on his head and cracks apart.

“Are you well?” he asks, stern, followed by: “Did I not tell you to watch your step up there?” 

[newhologram]

New's endometriosis surgery recovery fund

Now that my surgery is finally scheduled, I'm in prep-mode. Luckily it's minimally invasive, but I'm a complex case with a lot of comorbid conditions (such as fibromyalgia and ulcerative colitis). My surgeon warned that healing could be much slower for me, especially if my other conditions flare up. I'm anticipating that I could be out for a month, hopefully no longer than two before I can return to work. As of writing this I have less than 6 weeks until the surgery date. I'm going to try to work as much as I can to buy things I'll need for recovery but also just to have my basic bills covered so I can focus on healing. If you want to help out, there are multiple ways: GoFundMe: For a one-time donation Ko-Fi: One-time or recurring Patreon: Monthly support and access to Hologram Discord server (name in YouTube endscreen!) Please note that during recovery, it's unlikely I'll have the energy to get a lot of editing done, so my let's plays, fansubs, etc, will be on pause until I feel better. I'll be keeping everyone up to date as we get closer as well as during recovery. Can't believe I'm finally getting ready for this after so many years of fighting the medical system. I'm extremely nervous and scared but also relieved. Thank you for all the encouragement and support over the years. I'm very blessed to have so many kind friends. 💙New

[szollibisz]

Gonna rephrase an Owen headcanon I talked about on the saf server in a more cohesive way.

It circles back to the Curt uses food and other acts of service headcanon, but basically Owen is the kind of guy to ignore his own basic needs and feelings in order to get work done. He stays up way too late, forgets to eat and drink, doesn’t get up from the table, doesn’t do stretches etc. And Curt really doesn’t like that.

Anytime Owen tries to do that around him he manages to annoy him into taking care of himself. He doesn’t let him finish his work, makes him go to bed, gets him something to drink and eat etc. (He spends their entire relationship trying to make tea the way Owen likes it. It never works)

This pestering about self-care rubs off on Owen after a few year (unintentionally obviously, but he’d never even admit that much) so he starts taking better care of himself (still not great, he just doesn't go an entire day without eating and multiple days without sleeping) but after the fall this all changes. For a long while he can't get around and do what he wants, so Chimera hospital food and not having anything to do other than sleep keeps him relatively close to how he was, and besides, a little dehydration or insomnia is not nearly his biggest issue then.

After his recovery he completely spirals. He already feels useless and fragile for not being able to do all the things he could before and having to constantly maintain certain stuff (medicate for pain, do his stretches, treat his burns) so he's just starting to ignore himself even more. He loses a lot of weight, and his sleep schedule becomes a mess. There's nobody there to care for him, no friends no lovers, the only people who check up at least on his physical health are doctors, but if he’s in a really bad place he skips those appointments too. And anytime he does think "hey it's 4 am I should sleep" or "hey maybe I shouldn't skip lunch over a double homicide" he's reminded of Curt telling him all of that, so he doesn’t do it out of some sort of spite.

And then there's Curt with his inferiority and superiority complex and one of his worst insecurities being that Owen loves him but doesn't need him, while Curt really feels like he needs Owen. Especially after the fall where it’s his fault Owen “dies” and his own life completely stops without him.

And then after the staircase scene, after he's killed Owen and he's holding him in his arms and finds he can practically count Owen’s ribs by barely even touching him and sees his sunken cheeks, greasy unkempt hair and the darkest eyebags under his eyes, in a twisted turn of fate he realizes that Owen, the man he just shot dead, really did need him.

[jellyskink]

Just another Manic Muesday (Sorry I couldn't think of a better title lol.)

"Alright Dr. Pines, I'm pleased to report that your lab results for your bloodwork have finally been logged and updated to our medical system since the last we saw each other."

"H-huh? Oh! I'm certainly glad to hear that Dr. Oleander! Forgive me, I'm afraid my mind was wandering just now."

Sunshine shown through the windows of the medical doctor's office, bathing parts of the room with it's comforting warm rays. Outside, leaves of different colors and types scattered in the breeze with an air of playfullness to them. It was truly a lovely autumn day.

At least... it was as lovely as it could get lately. When it wasn't the occasional inanimate object coming to life to either cause mischief, panic, harm, or all of the above, the slowly randomizing weather definitely made it trickier to enjoy nature. 

Quite literally the other day it was a record-breaking freezing winter, followed the day after by a sweltering summer so hot that not only could you fry an egg on the sidewalk, but you could fry the chicken that laid it as well if you wanted to.

"That's quite alright, I just wanted to let you know that we did find some rather... interesting results."

"What kind of results? A-anything my Muse should be concerned over? I must inform him if there's anything that would cause him to worry over me!"

"Er, it's nothing as dire as that I assure you. I moreso wanted to let you know that in comparison to your first blood test, there's improvement to your overall health! I'm really proud of you that you're making progress."

"O-oh um thanks I suppose? I don't believe it's because of my choices truthfully. If it wasn't for my Muse's instance and kindness about my health I don't believe I could've done it on my own!"

"Dr. Pines I don't think you're giving yourself enough credit, only those who want help can accept it as they always say..."

"No, no! I'm serious! I'm truly thankful he's been stern that I see Stanley on a regular basis!

 I'm quite forgetful with taking care to see him regularly. Stanley's always worried about me, it pains me to see him filled with grief whenever I'm unable to talk to him for a bit due to my Muse and I's busy schedule.

Without him I'm sure my health and relationship with my Brother would be absolutely horrible!"

"..."

"Dr. Oleander? Is something the matter? You aren't speaking to me as much as you usually do."

"Forgive me Dr. Pines, I'm just a bit conflicted right now. I've just got a lot on my mind as well. On a similar subject, I do want to apologize for overstepping my boundaries with talking to you about your relationship with Mr.Cipher."

"..."

"I-it's fine. I know you didn't mean to be so crude on purpose. My Muse and I's relationship is often a subject to many due to it's complex and sublime love."

"Yes I believe you're right... Forgive me Doctor, I have a tendency to involve myself too much in my work."

"You d-don't need to apologize for that! It's a quality my Muse approves of you for! He wouldn't let just anyone treat any medical problems I have, the fact you have his trust is a sign you're great at what you do Doctor Oleander."

"... I appreciate your reassurance, though it still isn't very professional of me to be so casual with my speech with you about my troubles with my confidence as a medical practitioner."

"I don't mind! I swear!! I-I think you're a lot like the plant you share your surname with."

"I'm sorry?"

"Y-you know, Oleander? Also known as Rosebay? It's a perennial shrub and tree known and loved for it's vitality, resilience, and beauty. 

My Muse likes the fact every part of it is poisonous, it's definitely a kicker that's certain!

Personally I love the fact that certain species of caterpillars use the plant as both a food source and a way to defend themselves against predators! 

In particular, there's a species of moths known as the Oleander Hawk Moth, that does this! It's a very interesting and rare kind of Moth to see! I personally consider it to be one of my favorites!"

"Haha! Is that so? W-well thank you Doctor for that compliment and the accompanying fact."

"..."

"Ick are you two nerds just about done being boring together?"

"O-oh! Mr. Cipher! My apologies! We were just about done with Dr. Pine's appointment. It's my fault for taking longer than usual with his appointment..."

"You know Doco? Normally I'd be furious buuut this does mean Sixer finally has a buddy to talk about his more boring nerd things with! 

Congrats! You've redeemed yourself from me needing to find Sixer a new doctor!

This is definitely a blessing in disguise for me as you humans say! Now, be a doll and tell Sixer to hurry on home now? We've got places to be and mayhem to cause!"

"Of course Mr.Cipher. I'll be sure to do that right away."

"Oh and Doco before I forget, just know that I'll be keeping a closer eye on the time in the future. Fordsy's on a pretty tight schedule you know! I'd hate to have to CUT into both you and him over not keeping track of time. 

Although that would mean I'd have the chance to change things up when my pet needs a reminder that he needs to behave... And I would have the chance to really see how your meatsacks work without needing to worry about needing to harm a hair on Sixer's head... 

Whoops did I say that out loud? Haha! My bad! Anyways, pleasure talking with you Doco! Byee!!"

"Ugghh..."

"Dr.Pines! Er, I'm sorry to have to cut this conversation short, but Mr.Cipher has requested I let you know that you've been out for a while and must return back to him as quickly as you can."

*Gasp* "O-Oh no! Please forgive me my Muse! I didn't mean to forget to watch the time! I'll be home soon!! ThankyouforyourtimeDr.OleanderbutIsimplymustbegoing!!"

"Dr.Pines, I'll have your meds refilled and ready by hopefully the end of today!!"

*Sigh* "I really need to think about changing professions..."

(Just as soon as she says this, Mcgucket falls out of a tree very ungracefully, scampering after Ford. 

"???"

"What the-? Okayyy and now cowboy hillbillies are just falling out of trees now. Why am I surprised?? 

I'm going home early today, I deserve it. It's too early for this. I can't wait to just go back to bed and hug Calamari soon..."

(I hope you likes my attempt at some fanfiction! I wasn't sure if I should write it like a book or like a visual novel. The font stuff is probably really wonky because I typed this all around 1am and on my phone so my apologies for that lol.

I'm glad you liked my idea at trying to write some fanfiction about your au's Ford and Irene. Or would it be friendfiction in this case?? Anyways, I think I like the platonic route too. Maybe if Ford and Irene were to be a ship it'd be a friends to lovers thing or something? Idk. I was thinking about writing a more Irene and Calamari focused sequal to this, but I'm not sure if I should? Idk lmaoo.)

THIS ANON WROTE A REALLY CUTE FRIENDSHIPPING FIC OF FORD AND OLEANDER looklooklook it's so cuuuuuute 💕