#Healing Lives for medical purposes

[neverendingford]

.

[airyairyaucontraire]

You can see the process of reconstructing this person from the ground up in the new Netflix documentary Secrets of the Neanderthals (I think that was the title) and, to sweeten the deal, it’s narrated by Patrick Stewart.

Or hey, given Captain Picard’s love of archaeology, you can just pretend it’s him.

every prehistoric human reconstruction has me thinking “I want to smoke weed with this bitch”

she looks like she would have been an awesome neighbor, like she would have loved menthols and called me baby

[loveanddeepthroat]

Unlucky Thirteen

Summary - Sylus liked the quiet girl with the poorly heart. She was the only kid in the laboratory who hadn’t come and gone before he could even remember what she looked like. When he doesn’t see her for a whole day, he knows that there’s only one place she could be—the Medical Bay. He’d been through it all before she’d even arrived at the lab over a year prior, and felt a duty to keep her company whilst her heart healed.

Word Count - 2.4k

Warnings - Child!Sylus and Child!MC as experimental lab rats. Mentions of child experimentation and non-consensual medical treatments. This theory of them being lab rats is not canon, so keep in mind that I have made this all up!

Sylus couldn’t find the girl with the poorly heart.

It was the third and final free hour of the day in the laboratory’s Playroom, and she was nowhere to be seen among the children.

Again.

The girl had been missing a few times before now—usually for further experimentation. But for all three of their free time breaks from observations and alterations meant only one thing.

She had to be in the Medical Bay.

He didn’t know much about the quiet girl, other than the fact that she had problems with her heart. There was always a big, white bandage over her chest that just peaked out over the neckline of her plain white gown, but he would never ask her questions about it. They only got to see each other during mealtime and free time, so discussing the things they were put through in between was something neither of them wanted to commit any time to. She didn’t want to talk about her heart as much as he didn’t want to talk about his eye.

In fact, they didn’t talk much at all. They just had a common denominator that seemed to draw them to each other.

Sylus had watched kids come and go from this place for a few years, hoping that one day it would be his turn to leave. That futile hope had been short lived, and it became clear that he wasn’t going anywhere when all the other kids around him dropped off like flies. 

When she came in with a new group of kids around a year ago, he thought nothing of it. She was just a face he’d forget after she would undoubtedly be released. But as those weeks turned to months—the few children she had arrived with long gone—her face had remained a constant for Sylus.

He wasn’t stupid enough to believe that she’d finally been freed today. The people in the lab coats were far too interested in her as of late, and she was starting to look more withdrawn each time he saw her. Much like he had when he woke from an operation he didn’t know he was having.

The more he thought about her condition, the more he hoped that she was in the Medical Bay—rather than somewhere more sinister.

He’d grown a bit of an attachment to the girl. She was the only friendly face that hadn’t left him. Even in their lack of conversation, he enjoyed her company. Felt comforted by her. They often read in silence side by side, always in whichever back corner of the Playroom was free of other kids. The less significant test subjects always delved straight into the toys and games, but the two of them had no interest in joining in.

Sometimes, if the lab coats had prodded around in his eye too much, the girl would quietly read aloud to him. He liked it when she read to him. So much so that he sometimes played on his eye problems just to hear her read for an hour.

He was used to her being absent for one or two of the three free hours they get, but this was too much for him. 

He had to get into the Medical Bay.

His head had purposely been rested against the electric heater beside the bookshelf for a few minutes as he made himself appear as clammy and feverish as possible. His cheeks burned as he pinched them repeatedly, and he put on his best nasally voice once he approached the Playroom supervisor with a little book tucked under his white t-shirt, rubbing his good eye for added effect.

“I feel sick,” he whined to the stone-faced woman in all-black clothing.

She barely threw down a glance at him, raising a lazy eyebrow. “You were fine during dinner.”

Damn.

Plan B came into quick effect. He rolled his eyes back a little, swaying where he stood. The hot skin of his forehead bumped against her hipbone as he stumbled forward dramatically, and she quickly bent down to his level, steadying him with her firm hands.

“Oh for goodness sake,” she mumbled, her frown deepening when she pressed the backs of her cold fingers against his head. She pulled out a little radio device that was tucked in the chest pocket of her shirt, speaking into it frankly with a push of its button. “Patient S013 is feeling unwell. Feverish. Permission to move from Room 11 to the Medical Bay?”

Sylus held his breath, willing whoever was on the other end of the radio call to grant the cold woman the permission he didn’t know she would need. He’d only ever been to the Medical Bay once before, and hadn’t ever wanted to return. Being examined and tested by strange scientists everyday was bad enough. He had no interest in spending time with the nurses who tended to him after his surprise surgery.

“Permission granted,” a male voice affirmed through the radio.

The stern lady grabbed suddenly at his shoulder, pushing him lightly out of the noisy room and down the silent halls. He liked when they were silent. He’d heard enough screams from children to haunt him for life.

The walk to the Medical Bay was short, and Sylus remembered to throw a few sniffles and pathetic coughs into the silent trek to keep up his charade. He must’ve still looked red faced and sickly, the nurse on duty handing him a gown to change into straight away upon his arrival.

He changed as quickly as he could behind a curtain that gave him only a sliver of privacy, tucking the book he’d smuggled from the Playroom into the inner fabric. The nurse checked his vital signs In the small triage room with nothing but a blank look on her face for comfort. Nobody around here tended to smile or show any true emotion towards the children. 

It didn’t affect Sylus at all. He didn’t know any different. Didn’t remember a time when someone smiled at him. Or when he had smiled at someone else. 

He wasn’t sure if he ever had.

The small, sterile Medical Bay was empty as he followed the nurse inside—save for the tuft of the girl's hair he could see peeking out above her blanket. He almost audibly sighed with relief to see her, but the fact that something was wrong enough for her to even be in the Medical Bay struck alarm bells in his head.

“Patient S113 isn’t feeling good, so try to be quiet,” the nurse told him. She pulled back the covers of the bed next to the girl, hurriedly ushering him to get in before giving him a syringe of medicine to take. “I’ll check on you in a few hours.”

He nodded, waiting for her to turn around before he took a look at the sickly girl a few feet away. The skin on her face was shiny and damp in the stark light of the strip lights above them. She didn’t look well at all, and had the thin, white blanket pulled right the way up to her chin.

The nurse administered a dose of something fluorescent yellow to her in another syringe, pressing her hand to the girl’s damp forehead with a tut. Sylus could’ve sworn that the nurse sighed a little in concern.

“That medicine should make you feel a bit better soon. Try to sleep,” she murmured to the girl quietly, moving the strands of hair that were stuck to her skin before leaving the room. 

He didn’t know what to do once the nurse closed the door behind her. The quiet girl looked so…deathly. Her colouring was a good few shades lighter than it usually was, and there was a greyish tinge to it too. Whatever was going on with her, it didn’t look good.

“What happened?” he blurted quietly.

She slowly turned her head towards him, blinking a few times to focus her eyes. They widened a little when she realised it was him.

“Hi,” she whispered, her voice small and croaky.

The sound hurt something in Sylus’s chest. “What happened?” he repeated again, sitting up a little further in the bed to get a good look at her.

The girl lifted a shaky hand, pointing straight to where her heart was. “I think it’s broken,” she replied.

Sylus frowned a little. He didn’t know that hearts could break. Bones could break, he knew that much. He’d seen broken bones quite often in this place. Her heart wasn’t like most people’s—he knew that too. 

But it couldn’t break. Right?

“Are they going to make it better?”

She blinked at him a few times, and he really studied her. This was the most they’d ever said to each other in conversation, but it didn’t feel strange or wrong like he thought it might. It felt natural. Almost like they were both still here in the wake of so many other young patients’ departures for a specific reason. 

He found himself wanting to know more. He wanted to know everything about her heart—including how to fix it.

Her weary eyes glanced around the room for any listening ears, and she shifted the blanket down from her chin so she could see over it. She eventually whispered back to him, “I’m not sure that they’re even trying to fix it.” She took a shuddering breath in, wincing a little bit. “It doesn’t feel like it.”

That’s when he noticed it.

In the absence of the blanket, he saw the gnarly tail end of a stitched up incision where he would usually see a bit of the bandage she always donned on her chest. He may have been young, but he knew without having to ask what the lab coats had done to her. They’d done the same thing to him once before. Put him to sleep without warning to poke and prod into the innards of his most interesting body part—his right eye. He had no idea why they were so interested in it, or why they were equally as interested in her heart. But whatever the reason, it was mutually exclusive to the two of them.

“They’ve done that to me, too,” he reassured her quietly, trying to shift that anxious look from her tired face. She didn’t know what was going on, so he felt a duty to soothe any worries on her mind. “I woke up in here with a big bandage over my eye before you came to live here. Couldn’t see properly for a few weeks, but it got better. Like your heart will.”

The girl looked apprehensive, but seemed a little bit more settled to know that he’d been in the same situation previously. They fell into a comfortable silence for a moment before she spoke. “You’ve been here for a long time.”

It didn’t sound like a question, but he answered like it was. He didn’t want to stop talking with her, hoping it was bringing her some semblance of peace. “I have,” he confirmed with a nod. “Me and twelve other kids were the first here. That’s why I’m patient S013.”

“Thirteen is supposed to be an unlucky number,” she whispered.

Sylus cocked his head to the side, wondering if she was kidding. He’d never heard of that before, but if she was right, it would make perfect sense. Patients S013 and S113 being the two most focused on subjects in the lab coats’ top secret experiments did seem a bit too coincidental in his mind.

He sure did have a lot of time on his hands to think about things like that, too. She was the one hundredth kid after him to arrive, and ended up stuck here with him for the foreseeable. Maybe whichever newcomer unlucky enough to be patient S213 would end up in their same predicament.

“We’ll find our luck one day,” he finally responded, exuding all of his confidence into that one sentence. He was determined that he’d fight his way out of here one day, and that he’d be able to bring her with him. He wasn’t strong enough—not yet. But whatever they were doing to him here, he’d use it to his own advantage once he got a good understanding of it. “Maybe we’ll both get out of here, and we can see what the world is like.”

The girl smiled. Smiled at him, even in her state. It wouldn’t have been possible to not smile back, no matter how unnatural it felt for the corners of his lips to curl.

“Yeah,” she whispered. Her blinks were slowing down, and she looked sleepy. “That would be nice. I’d like to see the ocean one day, like I’ve read about in books.”

Sylus suddenly remembered the book he’d smuggled in, still resting coldly against his stomach beneath his gown. He quickly reached down into the neckline, grabbing it out and waving it up for her to see it.

“I could read to you, if you want? While you fall asleep.” He wasn’t sure if it would help her in any way, but the familiarity of a book seemed like the best form of comfort he could think of for her.

Her tired eyes lit up a little, and her smile widened. It struck something in Sylus’s heart, and for a moment, he wondered if he had a heart problem. He’d never felt such a feeling, but he liked it. It felt like a real feeling. Not just the horrible physical feelings of aches and pains.

It was a mental feeling. A caring feeling.

He settled himself back against the plump pillow behind him, opening up the book. It was a children’s fable that they’d read many times before, and the one book he enjoyed hearing her read. He checked on her once more, making sure she was still awake and eager to hear him read.

The idea of a book seemed to wake her up a bit from her fatigue, but even so, Sylus would read the book over and over until it lulled her into a peaceful sleep.

He quietly cleared his throat reading the title aloud the way she always does.

“The Kitten Who Met The Crow…”

A/N: I hope you enjoyed this little story! I think the lab rats theory is so interesting and couldn’t resist this sweet little idea! I’ve been a bit slow on the content recently and I do apologise, but I’m in the midst of moving into a new apartment and the stress of that on top of the way my neurodivergent son is struggling to cope with it has turned my brain to mush. Things should settle soon and I’ll be back on the requests 🤍

[greenglowinspooks]

(DCXDP) The obligations of a rogue versus those of a parent (Pt. 5)

—

Tw: torture scene (GiW agent receiving), general angst, canon-typical violence (DC), nobody is having a good time

Will be crossposted to AO3 eventually

(Masterlist/subscription post)

—

It was pretty easy for Danny to forget that Dr. Crane was a rogue at times.

Most of the time he wasn’t comically evil, like what he’d expect of a Gotham rogue. He was helping Danny, even if only because he didn’t want to be taken in by the GiW as well. He was even downright nice most of the time, or at least neutral.

Sure, he had a strange obsession with fear and psychology, but that wasn’t really out of the ordinary for Danny. It didn’t feel like living with a rogue, just like…staying with a distant relative, or something.

He seemed like just an ordinary person.

Today, though, Danny was brought back to reality.

The GiW agent they’d tracked down together writhed on the ground, screaming in pain and terror. Scarecrow was sat a few feet away, setting up a syringe of the antidote he’d made.

After a few more moments, he injected the man with the antidote, watching him like a hawk the entire time.

Suddenly, the man surged forward, lunging at Scarecrow with a feral scream.

Unluckily for him, though, he was still weak from the fear toxin in his system, and from the beatings he’d received prior. Scarecrow easily wrestled him to the ground, settling himself on the broad part of the agent’s back with a vice grip on one of his arms.

“Let’s try again,” he said sharply, all of the warmth Danny had grown used to gone from his voice. “Where is the GiW base of operations?”

The agent took several shuddering breaths before spitting at Scarecrow, defiance and hatred written all over his face.

For just a moment, the room was utterly silent.

“Fine, have it your way.”

Scarecrow began to twist the man’s arm further. It wasn’t long before the agent began to squirm, then writhe, beneath him. Danny’s stomach churned.

“You know,” Scarecrow began, almost conversationally, “there are plenty of jobs that one can get without the use of their legs, especially with the level of education you have. Anything that doesn’t involve hard labor, really.”

The man’s face was beginning to turn red in his struggle not to scream. He took in gasping breaths, the way that his mouth moved almost reminding Danny of a goldfish.

(He felt awful for the comparison, but it was true.)

“However,” Scarecrow continued, “I find you’d be rather hard-pressed to find a job without the use of your arms. Especially in a place like Gotham, where you can always be replaced by someone eager to do your job for even less money. Of course, you could most likely coast off of savings and severance pay for a while, but…”

He leaned closer to the man’s head, his voice lowering.

“Would you be able to live like that? To live with yourself, if you no longer have a purpose?”

He allowed the agent a few seconds of rest before increasing the pressure on his arm. The agent gasped, letting out a strangled hiss. His arm bones were making fascinating noises in response to the strain. Danny felt sick.

“You seem like a rather driven young man. I’m sure your family would hate to see you unmotivated, directionless. Would they resent you, do you think?”

“Fuck you, you—”

The man was cut off by his own scream as Scarecrow finally allowed his arm to break, audibly splintering into thousands of useless shards of bone.

He had the exact pressure memorized. Clearly, he had done this before.

This was wrong. This was wrong.

Shouldn’t Danny step in, do something?

“That won’t heal cleanly. Even with the best medical care in the world, you’ll end up with permanent damage.”

The man below him wheezed and sobbed, choking on air as Scarecrow let go of his arm carelessly, letting it flop back onto the ground.

“Just the sort of thing something like you deserves,” Scarecrow hissed, his voice cold.

“You tortured a child, and you enjoyed it. You laughed with your friends about it. In your notes, one of your friends complained about the screaming,” Scarecrow brought his leg around, grinding his boot into the man’s broken arm. He howled in agony, writhing uncontrollably.

“Was it inconvenient to him, do you think? Too loud? If you were joking about it, clearly you thought so, too. I could fix that as well.”

He drew out another needle, this one once again filled with fear toxin.

“Scarecrow, wait,” Danny choked out.

Scarecrow turned to look at him.

Even his posture was different than usual. He looked… stiff, more like an animal than a man. When he tilted his head at Danny in a silent question, it looked like something in his neck had snapped, his head lolling to the side.

Danny wondered if he was consciously moving like that, or if it was habit at this point.

“You—we don’t have to do this. We can get information some other way, right? You don’t have to…”

Danny looked down at the GiW agent below Scarecrow. He didn’t even have it in him to glare up at Danny like he had before. Instead he laid limply on the ground, tremors rolling through his body uncontrollably.

“We’ve exhausted every other option and you know it,” Scarecrow said, his voice low, “this is the only way we can move forward.”

“Still, I—I don’t,” Danny swallowed, his throat tight, “this isn’t—this isn’t right. Isn’t there some other way to do this? Like—a truth serum, or something?”

“Truth serums are notoriously unreliable. They’re almost as bad as lie detectors. We’re much more likely to get a reliable result from this.”

Danny just stared at the GiW agent and his splintered, ruined arm. He began to weakly wriggle in Scarecrow’s grasp, which was graciously ignored.

He vaguely remembered himself doing the same thing when he was on the operating table; even if he knew there was no chance of escape, he still thrashed and screamed, desperate to get away. The jagged I-shaped incision on his torso felt uncomfortably warm.

What was there left to say?

“The Bat does the same thing at times, you know,” Scarecrow said, “him and the rest of his brood. By using my toxin, I’m actually lessening the amount of permanent damage that I’m doing. Physically.”

“Still, that doesn’t make it right,” Danny said desperately. “Even if—even if everyone in the world did this, it wouldn’t make it right.”

Scarecrow hummed.

They were both silent for a moment.

His next words were gentle, absurdly so when compared to the scene in front of him.

“I would love an alternative. But…”

He shrugged, hand coming to rest on the break in the GiW agent’s arm. Even without applying any pressure, the man stopped squirming immediately.

“There aren’t any other options,” Danny repeated, his voice flat and his body numb.

“Yes,” Scarecrow said. “I’m sorry.”

There was a pause. No one moved a muscle. Eventually Scarecrow spoke again, his voice strangely empty.

“You can stand outside and keep watch, if you’d like. At such a short distance their radars won’t pick us up.”

Danny said nothing, leaving the room silently.

He sat outside for quite a while.

He was grateful that Scarecrow had, with his help, dragged the agent to one of his previous hideouts. It was soundproofed, after all.

He was glad that he didn’t have to hear the rest of what Scarecrow did to the man.

After what felt like an eternity, Dr. Crane left the building, joining him outside. He guided Danny back to his beat up old truck and they drove home in silence.

“Did you at least…do you know where they are, now?” Danny asked as they entered the apartment, his voice small.

“They didn’t share the details of all of their locations with any one person. I know where one of their locations are, but not their main base of operations.”

Danny felt disgusted. With himself, with Dr. Crane, with the GiW.

He was disgusted by the agent, too. Did he just hate the restless dead so much that he would prefer to be tortured than to give them the upper hand? Did he really think he was in the right?

Was there a chance that he was?

Danny felt very, very small, and very stupid. Stupid and weak and cowardly.

“Danny,” Dr. Crane spoke, his voice soft.

“I’m truly sorry that this is happening to you. I really, truly wish that you didn’t have to endure my company. I…”

He fell quiet. Danny wondered if he was just saying this to pacify him, or if he truly meant it. He wondered if it really mattered in the end.

After a few moments of silence, Dr. Crane sighed, looking truly pained.

“I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

Danny was quiet.

“I’m going to bed early,” he finally said, turning away and leaving without a second glance.

—

[genderkoolaid]

Though I have a UTMB prescription for my hormone treatment, I am still at war within TDCJ with trying to obtain my T injections, boxer shorts, hygiene products, razors, and basic pronoun respect. These past five years have been a nonstop battle against the horrors of prolonged solitary confinement. I've been a victim of numerous assaults during my time here. I've been punched, stomped, kicked, and spit on by officers. I've been purposely placed in a rec cage by transphobic officers where I was assaulted by four inmates. I've been denied gender-affirming clothing. I've endured broken bones, bruises, and wounds that were left to heal without medical attention because I've been denied medical treatment. It’s the luck of the draw weekly on whether or not I receive my T injections week to week, depending on medical supply, availability of staff, and the mood or personal opinion of the selected officer chosen to escort me to the infirmary. One officer doesn’t like the fact that I’m trans and refuses to take me to medical. My transition sometimes stagnates due to the inconsistency of my T injections. My body suffers silently from the weeks when I have to miss a dose of my hormonal therapy. I’ve been denied razors to shave, and when I am given razors they’re dull, causing me to get razor burn. Out of sheer malice, I am given women’s hygiene products such as deodorant, body wash, and shampoo, causing my pH balance to be off-kilter and creating irritation and inflammation. With no resources or outside support, there’s no coalition or aegis for protection or help for me to live as a trans man in prison safely.

[writteninlunarlight-years]

Wound patching headcanons with Adam, Lucifer, alastor, and vox? As in, patching their wounds? Getting all close and personal, taking care of them, kissing it better. You know, the good stuff 🫣🫣🤭

Adam

When he came back from hell, injured and bloodied, all thoughts left your mind; all you could think about was saving him.

Crying as you stitched up his stab wounds and hoped that Lute got him back home in enough time that he would live another day.

You were diligent and careful with every inch of his body as you worried that the man you loved would never return to you.

As he woke up, you felt immediate relief and held him close to you for days straight till he was strong enough again.

You let him have it once he was strong enough to handle physical activities. Your voice carried through the entirety of the angelic tower.

Once your rant about taking care of himself and the wrongness of extermination was over, he was happy to open his arms up for you.

Even though you tried hard to continue being mad, it was impossible not to climb into bed with him and hold him even longer.

Lucifer

When he had fallen, you also fell just inches behind him; you knew his wounds would far surpass yours. Where you willingly chose to fall with him, he was cast out.

Once safe and sheltered from most of the elements, you took tender care of his broken wings and tore up the body.

As you stitched him up and wrapped up deeper wounds, you sat above him, crying, hoping he would pull through this.

As he woke from his stooper, he caressed your face gently as you held his hand there, pouring all your emotions out to him.

He reprimanded you for falling with him but, in the same breath, mentioned how happy he was to have someone so devoted by his side.

As he healed, you two built up hell and gave those who had received free will a purpose.

Even though he sometimes blamed himself, he was so happy to have you beside him, fixing hell up one step at a time.

Alastor

He was picky about who got to see him so vulnerable and weak; he was not about to let others know that he could be harmed in such a manner.

When you showed up outside the radio tower, panicking after watching him disappear after a fatal blow. He couldn't deny the happiness he felt in his fleeting moments.

As you laid him down and tore open his suit, you made quick work of the large wound across his chest that Adam gave him.

You were stoic and focused on ensuring that he emerged from this alive with only a scar to tell the tale.

Once you had finished and he was doing better health-wise, you finally snapped and broke down in front of him, explaining your worries and fears.

He gently pulled you into a hug, resting his head atop yours, reminding you that he was alive and reminding himself he would be a goner without you.

When you two arrived back at the hotel, relief was felt through most of the others; however, you were happy that Alastor finally let down his walls with someone, especially since that someone was you.

Vox

Vox had suffered another beating from Alastor, something you were far more used to than you cared to admit.

He never got hurt enough that it required intense medical attention, but he did get his pride slapped around most of the time.

You sat delicately on his lap while he held your waist so you could gently fix up his screen

You were never a techy person, but you learned over the years how to replace his wiring and screens when things got bad like this.

Once he was all patched up, you sighed and rested your head on his shoulder, allowing the day's weight to catch up with you.

Worrying that you were now growing tired of him, Vox asked what was so wrong, only for you to pour out your heart and concerns he may get really hurt one of these times.

Feeling your genuine confession, he smiled softly and kissed you, reminding you that he fights for you to be safe and work free in his tower, but he would make an effort to come home scratched up less often.

[thesummerestsolstice]

Whenever Numenor experienced a plague or outbreak, Elrond came, without fail, to treat the sick and offer the people of the island comfort. He did it for many reasons– to honor the legacy of Elros and his descendants, because he sometimes considered the Numenorians more his people than either elves or men, because he was a healer who believed deeply that all life had value.

Of course, treating mortal plagues is a hazardous business– especially for a part-human medic who is just as susceptible to the disease as his patients.

Elrond, never one to be dissuaded from trying to save lives, tries to find a way to protect himself from the infection while being able to treat his patients. No one in Middle-Earth knows exactly how mortal diseases spread, but it's clear that it spreads from the healthy to the ill– through bad air, coughing, infected blood, or some other means. So, Elrond has to find a way to not make contact with or breathe the same air as his patients. While treating them.

Eventually, he settles on a set of robes that leaves no inch of his skin uncovered, along with heavy, opaque veils and a mask of his own design for his face. The mask– full of athelas flowers to purify the air– is fashioned in the shape of a bird as an homage to Melian, who was said to have healing powers. He made the main piece mask with his own hands, carved it from dragon bone– sturdy, and thought to have protective powers against against diseases and curses. The eyes are made of dark tinted glass that glows faintly– a gift from Celebrimbor.

In all fairness, Elrond did not realize how creepy the bone white mask and fully-black outfit was, especially given his general aura of strangeness ad birdlike mannerisms. He had bigger concerns at the time. That said, his outfit, which kept him from getting sick even during the worst of the outbreak, was soon adopted by many of the Numenorian healers. Over time, the story of the plague doctor shifted became part of Numenor's legend– that healers dressed in such strange outfits to frighten disease away. In that way, the odd, birdlike appearance of the plague doctors soon became a comfort to the Numenorians, rather than a fright.

As gifts for helping with various outbreaks over the years, Elrond also got several plague doctor masks that were decorated, more for style than for purpose. He wears them at fancy elvish events sometimes, just to mess with everyone. And whenever he heads off to Numenor, he always makes sure to bring his full plague-doctor regalia, just so the people there will know he's always there to protect them from any lurking plagues.

[alientee]

Christmas Cookies 🎄

This is a 18+ minors don’t interact and have your age in your bio. NOTHING BUT PURE SMUT. (Oral.M Receiving, spanking, spitting, cum everywhere) 2000 something words. AFAB reader

Sometimes you wonder why you chose this life. Your parents were gone, leaving behind you and two siblings. Not like they had a choice; they died in the omnic crisis. So you had to make a decision: die with your brothers going into the system, or live and protect them. So you made yourself useful until somebody picked you up.

Being a healer in Talon wasn’t so bad. You weren’t cut out for violence or war, and you were terribly shy. But you had to do what you needed to take care of your siblings. Plus, Doomfist and Moria were impressed with your progress in healing the troops, so you were moving up with the pay grade. You stayed in the background, stayed out of the way, and kept everyone alive, so your job was easy.

Well, your job would be easy if a certain tank didn’t take a liking to you. According to him, he had a soft spot for medics, especially sweet ones like you.Ever since you joined, Mauga has done everything in his power to get you to open up to him. Always asked Doom to bring you out in the field with him. He trusted you to keep him alive for some reason. He’d flirt with you, pick you up, drag you off with him, and even bring you dinner when you patched him up.

Sometimes you felt like he’d get hurt on purpose just to see you. He’s so huge that bullets don't affect him, so seeing him hurt made you a little skeptical. But with all the time and effort he put into you, sometimes they really would send you out on the field with him. He made you stay well hidden, or he carried you on his shoulder. Late missions had become late nights with you patching him up, listening to his crazy ideas, and telling you about his home.

You both had gotten close, but you think your shyness to speak up let it get out of hand. After a while, you grew to have feelings for him, and Mauga could tell; he was even a little smug about it. Mauga was touchy—really touchy—and overprotective; you didn’t realize what you got yourself into. To the point where other Talon soldiers would avoid you because, apparently, it was an unspoken rule that you were off limits.

And you were fine with that because people left you to your own devices. The problem was that you weren’t used to his overly sultry nature. Even after the large man had taken your virginity, (another story for another time.) You both went from being friends to him claiming you and doing whatever he pleased (with consent, of course). He never said if you both were a couple, so you didn’t want to put too much of your feelings into it.

But he made it very difficult, always being very kind to you or following you around. You decided it was best to avoid him until your feelings calmed down. You didn’t want to get so invested in him only for him not to feel the same. Your heart couldn’t take that kind of pain in your life again. So you did your best, and it paid off; you avoided him for a week. But Mauga got sick and tired of that real soon.

So here you were trying to avoid him on Christmas, thinking he wouldn’t be at work. You spent the day with your brothers so you could come in tonight. You were in the kitchen baking deserts for the team. You didn’t mind; you loved baking, plus you got paid extra for coming in today. You even put on a cute Santa dress and thigh-high socks. You already made a cake, gingerbread, pies, and even fruit muffins. The last thing left was the second batch of sugar cookies. You placed them in the oven and set a timer.

While you opened the oven, ready to put them in. You felt something hard press against your ass. The next thing you know, you’re lifted into the air. “EEK!"

You try to grab onto something, but you are set on the counter. And loa and behold, Mauga is standing right in front of you while in between your legs, smirking at you.

"M-Mauga, what the heck! I was baking.” He ignores you and starts to rub your cheek with his thumb.

“You make something for me, sugar?”

“U-um……. You can have a muffin if you want.”

He chuckles, "Nah, I think I want something else. I think you owe me a pie, sweetheart."

You quickly move to hand him a pie. "Here, take one!”

He looks at the pie, then back to you. He takes it out of your hand and sets it back down. He pushes you on your back against the cold counter. “Your funny; how bout a cream pie?"

“I can make you o-mmmh." Mauga cuts you off by shoving his tongue down your throat. He pushes your body down on the counter. He grabs at your thighs, squeezing them.

“Pretty thigh highs,” he says, running his finger along the socks. “It’s like you made yourself into a present for me.”

He starts to bite and nibble on your neck while putting his hand up your dress. His tongue licks up the side of your neck until he nibbles on your ear, and you shiver. You hated to admit it, but you missed his touch. His hands grip your ass, holding your lower half up. He scoffs and starts to rub at your covered folds.

“Lace panties, huh... I'm starting to think you really did dress up for me.”

You try to look away; it was an embarrassing position for you. And even if you told him you didn’t do it for him, he wouldn’t believe you anyway. He grips your chin,forcing you to look at him. “You miss me? Cuz it seems like you’ve been avoiding me lately.” You push him back a little.

"Mauga, you know I have siblings to take care of. I've been busy."

He looks down at you, frowning. He’s a firm believer that if there are 24 hours in a day, some of them better be for him. He slams you back on the counter, kissing your forehead. “If you’re going to make excuses, I won’t go easy on you.”

He moves back to push up your dress, rips your panties off, and leans down. “Spread those fucking legs; show me that pussy.”

You spread your legs, and he spat on your pussy, making you gasp. He slides his tongue over your cunt and starts to finger you slowly. "Mauga, we can't; we’re in the kitchen.”

Mauga hums in agreement, his tongue diving deep into your wet folds. He licks and flicks your sensitive spots, making you squirm with pleasure. Before you could grab his hair, he moved away, making you whine. Mauga chuckles and pulls you closer, his hard cock rubbing against your ass. “Thought we couldn’t do it in the kitchen?" He grabs a handful of your ass cheek and squeezes it roughly, causing a pleasurable pain to shoot through your body.

“Wanna watch your ass jiggle while I fuck you.” He throws you over, putting you on your stomach. "M-Mauga, wait, maybe we should wait till I’m done cooking.”

He paused for a moment, looking down at you. “You may not think I know what’s going on in that head of yours, but you’ve been acting insecure and putting up walls, then you started avoiding me, so im gonna show ya you can’t leave me your mine and I’m yours got it.”

You start to tremble and turn around to look at him. “I’m…. I’m yours?” He doesn’t answer; he’s still holding your body up. You realize all you can do is hold on and take what he gives you. Mauga teases you for a moment, rubbing his tip at your entrance. He starts to slowly push his cock inside you, filling you up with each inch. He slowly thrusts in and out, causing you to moan in pleasure. On instinct, you arch your back for him. “That's it, baby. That’s my good girl."

He reaches around, grasping your breast and squeezing it hard as he continues to fuck you. Mauga growls while his cock is pounding against your wet pussy. He grinds his hips forward, pushing deeper into you. You feel him playing with your nipples, pulling them roughly, and you cry out in pleasure. He pulls back slightly, then slams his hips forward again, burying himself to the hilt inside you. You scream his name as he starts to fuck you harder and faster.

Mauga smacks your ass, rubbing the cheek softly to ease the sting. "I think you deserve a punishment for dodging me; how bout I spank that cute ass, hm? Redden you up a bit.”

“Maug-ga! I’m close! Please!”

He smacks your ass harder this time. Pushing your body into the counter as his hips smack your thighs. Your body is being pushed back and forth in the air while all you can do is weakly grab at the counter. Your eyes roll in the back of your head, getting thrown around like a rag doll while Mauga bottomed out in you was bliss. You couldn’t help but moan out his name like a mantra, losing your breath with every thrust. He grips your hips, fucking you faster as he feels his balls tighten. “Want me to cum in this pussy or on that pretty face?"

“D-d….dont know Ahhhhh~”

You can barely answer him when he’s plunging his cock into you nonstop. His cock slick with your juices, making nasty squelching noises. He fucked you deeper while he whispered the dirtiest thoughts in your ear. His cock is stretching you past your limits. You make a weak attempt to crawl away, pulling yourself onto the counter.

Mauga grabs your hips, slamming you back on his cock. “Don’t you fucking run from me; take this dick.”

Mauga groans and thrusts a few more times. One more powerful stroke is all it took. Mauga started filling your pussy with his hot seed. He thrusts deep, feeling his cock twitch as he unleashes his load inside you. You can feel his cum seeping into your walls, filling you up with his essence. He keeps fucking into you while you cum on his cock, covering him in your juices.

You sigh and start to relax on the counter, catching your breath.

"You're not done, sweetheart."

You start to protest when he picks you up and puts you on the floor. He grabs you by the back of your hair, pushing his cock to your lips.

“Open wide, baby."

You open your mouth, and Mauga shoves his fat cock down your throat. You gag, tears coming to your eyes as you steady yourself, putting your hands on his thighs. Mauga growls, pushing his hips forward, his cock forcing its way into your mouth. "Fuck yes." He groans, his hands gripping your hair tightly as he thrusts in and out of your mouth. His cock is hitting the back of your throat.

You swallow his dick down to the base and begin to play with his heavy balls. Your sloppy noises echo through the kitchen.

Mauga's hips jerk violently as he feels your warm, wet mouth on his cock, his hands gripping your head tighter. "Fuck yeah, suck it, baby." He groans, his hips pounding into your mouth as he fucks your face with long, hard strokes.

Mauga's moans turn into grunts as his hips start bucking wildly as he loses control. "Mmmmh shit! Almost there..." He grips your head tightly, his cock jerking erratically in your mouth as he approaches his climax.

Mauga's entire body tenses up as he feels his climax come again, his hot cum filling your mouth and his hips jerking violently. "Fuuuuuck!" he moans lewdly, his cock pulsing with each spurt of cum, filling your mouth to the brim.

He pulls out of your mouth, spraying the rest of his cum on your face, his cock still hard and throbbing, cum dripping from the tip onto your tits. "Swallow it all, sweetie." He commands, his voice rough with authority.

You swallow all of his cum, sticking your tongue out to show him you finished.

Mauga chuckles, thinking you look gorgeous with your face covered in his cum. “Frosted like your cookies."

Just then, your timer dings.

“Cookies done, babe, go on and take ‘em out. You can frost 'em after I’m finished fucking you again."

[comfort-questing]

crow's personal ranking of idioms about dead-ness, for whump purposes

"half dead." basic and classic, and can be used both actually and figuratively ("you look half dead" ie. we all know you didn't sleep last night). 6/10, not bad, points deducted for the frequency of figurative use where nothing actually happened to a character and they just need a nap

"more dead than alive." now we are committing to at least 51% dead, which is promising. I have never heard this used figuratively in a narrative so if someone says it about a character, they mean it. they looked, and dead was the predominant impression. good whump should be expected hereabouts. 8/10.

"dead on their feet." usually used for exhaustion, but honestly, a peak descriptor of exhaustion. 7/10 for that reason alone. we've all been there.

"all but dead." ...does anyone ever say this, or did I just come up with it? -/10 since I don't feel ethical rating it if I'm the only one who uses it

"threshold of death/on death's door/brink of death/verge of death" - dated but also, classic. a solid option overall, implying suspense, uncertainty of outcome. 5/10, nothing special but no complaints really

"looking like death" - equally appropriate for emotional or physical whump, but needs more detail to follow up so we know which one is meant. 4/10 in the abstract, due to ambiguity

"inches from death." have hated this one ever since I was a small crow, because it's usually used for narrow escapes - nearly stabbed, nearly crushed by a falling object, nearly bitten by the monster. emphasizes spatial arrangements to the detriment of actual effects. 2/10 since it can be used for whump, just rarely is

"dying" as an adjective describing a character. is it foreshadowing? is it a medical descriptor? it's probably foreshadowing, or else we're going to have a magical healing deus ex machina. either way, not a thing this crow is super into... 1/10, I'm sure it has potential though.

"left for dead" mmmmmmph... this one is underrated... implying either ruthless, targeted brutality, or perhaps callous abandonment by someone. either way, whump is inevitable to follow. 10/10. whumptober knew what they were doing picking that prompt, and every year I try to find a way to live up to its promise.

"deathly cold/deathly still" ... never out of place or out of style, a clear statement that something is very wrong, a sign of escalation of the situation. equally excellent for finding a teammate in a dungeon, or for checking in worriedly on a sick character in the middle of the night. next-level whump, and especially great for terrifying caretakers. 11/10.

[darkfluffydragon]

Shoving the Phantasmagoria Duo into the SCP foundation >:3

Item #: SCP-1029 Object Class: Safe Special Containment Procedures: SCP-1029 is to be kept in a reinforced glass display case within a secure containment chamber at Site-221. Access to SCP-1029 requires Level 2 clearance and authorization from at least one Level 3 researcher. The containment chamber is to be monitored at all times via surveillance cameras. Testing involving SCP-1029 must be approved by the Site Director and conducted in a controlled environment. Description: SCP-1029 is a sentient orchid flower resembling a wooden staff. At the apex of the staff is a single eye, which exhibits movements consistent with those of a human eye. The staff measures approximately 1.5 metres in length. SCP-1029 displays several anomalous properties:

Healing: SCP-1029 has the ability to heal any physical wound or injury inflicted upon a living being. The extent of its healing capabilities surpasses conventional medical treatment, demonstrating near-instantaneous regeneration of tissue and loss of limbs. It has yet to be tested whether or not SCP-1029 can bring back a subject who is on the brink of death.

Compulsion: One of SCP-1029 most notable effects is its compulsion to compel truthfulness in individuals who hold it. Subjects holding SCP-1029 report an overwhelming urge to speak only the truth, often confessing thoughts or feelings they would otherwise keep hidden. This effect persists until the staff is released. Attempts to deceive while holding SCP-1029 result in discomfort or pain for the subject. Many resisted the idea of even attempting to lie while under the influence of SCP-1029 due to finding the thought “nauseating” and “disturbing”.

Sentience: SCP-1029 displays signs of sentience, exhibiting awareness of its surroundings and reacting to stimuli in its vicinity. Additionally, SCP-1029 demonstrates a degree of control over its anomalous properties, selectively activating its effects based on the intentions of those interacting with it.

Magic: SCP-1029 showcases additional unexplainable ‘magical’ properties, including the ability to emit a soft, soothing light and to create a shield. It has been observed to manifest minor telekinetic effects, such as moving objects within its vicinity. Testing is still being done to see what else SCP-1029 can do.

However, if SCP-1029 is used to intentionally harm another being, the item exhibits signs of distress. The eye appears to express sorrow or disappointment and SCP-1029 emits a faint sad chiming or bell noise. Continued misuse of SCP-1029 results in heightened emotional distress, with the staff actively resisting attempts to use it for harmful purposes. SCP-1029 has been in existence for an indeterminate amount of time, with historical records dating back several centuries and the ancient ruins by the ████████ Forest that it was found in being theorised to be perhaps even older. Dr. ██████ believes that SCP-1029 is related to [DATA EXPUNGED] Occasionally, certain individuals are able to perceive a faint apparition holding SCP-1029, adorned with a golden crown. This phenomenon occurs sporadically and seemingly at random, with no discernible pattern or trigger. Individuals who experience these sightings report feelings of warmth, safety, and tranquillity. This figure has been named SCP-1029-1 Addendum 1029-1: SCP-1029 exhibits the ability to influence the wielder’s mental state, as during a recent test where the previously aggressive subject was asked to hold SCP-1029 for a prolonged period of time, the subject’s behaviour was recorded to slowly become abnormally passive. SCP-1029 was removed from the subject before the test could further continue, and we are waiting for further instructions. Addendum 1029-1: Other SCPs are more capable of seeing SCP-1029-1 than regular people. Further testing is required to see if subjects undergoing anomalous effects are able to see SCP-1029-1.

Name: Dr.Phantasmagoria (SCP-1067)

Occupation: Senior Researcher (Level 3) Part of the Antimemetics Division

Current Status: Phantas is currently kept within Site-221 after being transferred from the Antimemetics Division by [REDACTED] due to [DATA EXPUNGED]. Phantas's eccentric demeanour and unconventional methods contribute to his effectiveness in handling anomalies. However, his propensity for unorthodox approaches requires additional oversight to ensure compliance with Foundation protocols and containment standards.

Special Considerations: Phantas's status as SCP-1067 introduces unique containment challenges, as his anomalous properties render others susceptible to antimeme and amnestics symptoms. Despite having been deemed safe and having dedicated a long period of time working as a researcher within the SCP Foundation, regular monthly evaluations are essential to mitigate potential security breaches and safeguard sensitive information both for Phantas and those who come in regular contact with him.

Additional Notes: Phantas must undergo regular psychological evaluations to ensure his mental stability and resistance to anomalous influences.

He will never be allowed to receive a higher clearance level.

[maxsimagination]

The world needs more Claudia Pina content so I’m requesting literally anything for her. Maybe like she gets hurt in a game or something and ends up super pissy about not being able to go out and do stuff and see everyone at trainings and stuff so reader realizes that and has to comfort her.

𝙢𝙞 𝙗𝙚𝙗𝙚 - 𝙘.𝙥𝙞𝙣𝙖

summary: when claudia gets injured, yn is there for her. but claudia doesn’t want to rest, she wants to go out.

𖦹 masterlist

𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗠𝗢𝗠𝗘𝗡𝗧 claudia went down i was the first one there.

it just happened to be the el clásico, the biggest women’s game in the spanish league. barcelona were winning 4-1 in the 80th minute, but not even five minutes later, everything went crashing down.

it was a corner conceded by real madrid, which mapi stepped up to take. we were all huddled around the net, some pushing and shoving to fight for the ball. when mapi kicked it, it curved perfectly, almost going straight into the net. it just needed the tiniest touch to send it in.

claudia was the one who made that header and scored the goal, but just as her head had made contact with the ball, someone else had crashed into her, causing her to fall sideways. her left knee was the one that copped the brunt of the fall, being whacked against the goal post and the hard ground at the same time.

her scream was enough to stop everything, and i whipped around to see her on the floor clutching her leg.

she was sobbing, tears flowing freely down her face, which was not a normal thing for claudia. the medics instantly rushing onto the field, barley waiting for the referee to call them. they rolled her over gently, careful not to jostle her leg too much. i was kneeling by her head, refusing to leave until i knew what was wrong.

the medics did a quick assessment to see whether she needed to come off, but it was a no-brainer at that point. she could barley move her left leg, let alone walk off the field, so the medics brought on a stretcher and placed her on it gently. she was escorted off the field and disappeared down the tunnel.

it hurt to see her go like that but i had to see out the game, for her.

the second that final whistle was blown, i was gone. running off the field and through the tunnel to find where they’d taken claudia. it didn’t take me long, there was only one medics room.

i opened the door and poked my head inside to see claudia on the bed, a brace on her knee.

“oh, mi bebe.” (my baby.) i walked into the room to stand beside claudia. she was clearly very upset at being injured yet again, after having just come back into the starting squad.

claudia didn’t say anything but i knew what she was thinking, what was going on inside her head. it was a terrible way to go down, and in el clásico of all matches.

—

three weeks after that match, and claudia was already up and walking around. it was more of a hobbling really, but if claudia heard you say that you wouldn’t live to see another day.

the first week or two was spent with claudia on bed rest, and by the third week i had given up on trying to get her to stay there.

“claudia!

please come and sit down!”

there was a grumble and some sounds of movement from the apartment before claudia hobbled into the living room and plopped down on the couch.

“you have to rest, claud. otherwise you won’t heal.”

“i don’t want to rest!

i’m stuck here, just waiting for you to come back from wherever you go. training, team bondings, hanging out. i’m stuck here, on bed rest, until you come home to help me with everything.

i’m getting lonely.”

there was a silence that hung in the room after claudia’s admission, it was almost a guilty silence. i felt bad for not noticing sooner, for doing something sooner.

“i’m so sorry claudia, i didn’t know. i promise i didn’t try to exclude you on purpose, i just had no idea that this was what you were feeling.”

i gave the girl a hug, claudia melting into my embrace almost immediately.

we sat there for a while, just enjoying each other’s company. i rubbed my hand up and down claudia’s back, attempting to soothe her.

“i promise i won’t leave you out again, mi bebe.” (my baby.)

[justwinginglife]

May I have a request for Hoshina with a s/o who have a ability to heal people? It's either injuries or even broken bones. She's a doctor (or medic) in the defense force, she didn't use ability unless its very serious. She's not even a kaiju.

Imagine when Hoshina was in life and death situation or brink of death dealing a tough opponent/Kaiju she saved him with her abilities and he woke up fully healed. She explained to him she have these abilities of hers, since she was born.

Very interesting prompt, sorry for the wait and thanks for being patient. It definitely was difficult for me to figure out how to work the healing powers into a universe that doesn’t have powers so I hope what I went with turned out okay. Also fun fact- this post could've been significantly better but it accidentally got deleted somehow and I had to start all over from the beginning and try to remember what I wrote and it was so devastating so the writing is definitely not as good as it could've been.

A Reason To Live

Your mother was a freak of nature and apparently it was genetic.

You’d been told she was already strong, already tough, already fast, like all the women on her family’s side, even to the point of being declared superhuman but it wasn’t enough for her. She’d lost her husband and all her children to the Kaiju and she’d never be able to repair that damage to herself, that feeling of never being enough, much as she tried to through lengthy experimentation and numerous scientific enhancements to her body. Eventually, the stress of being pregnant with the last child her dead husband would ever give her overwhelmed her heart and she passed on.

You were born as the result of all that experimentation and that, mixed with your already inhuman genetics led to an interesting development, one that had never been heard of before. You had the power to heal. And nothing else.

You thought it a useless power at first. You were so focused on being the failure of your bloodline. You had planned on joining the Defense Force, like your whole family had before you- anything to feel connected to them. But whatever it was that made them outstanding, you didn’t have it, you didn’t have their strength or their speed, and you were devastated at the thought that your bloodline would die with your unimpressive self.

Then, one day when you were walking home, you noticed a tourist standing on the edge of a bridge. Before you realized how desperately they were eying the murky waters below, they jumped. Unable to catch them in time, you cursed your own inadequacies again as you ran to pull their limp body from the river. As you dragged them to the bank, you realized they were still alive, but just barely. They were badly injured but had enough life in them to whisper their regrets, to murmur they actually did want to live. And it touched something deep inside you, awakened some ancient power, and you healed them like it was second nature.

Saving them made you realize that even though you couldn’t shoot a gun or swing a sword for shit, you could still make a difference. So you became a doctor, only saving your powers for the most serious of cases, but studying your ass off so hard you almost didn’t need to use your gift.

And for the first time in your life, you were content, you made peace with your strengths and your weakness, and you felt like you actually had a purpose. You almost didn’t even realize you were missing anything in life until you made the acquaintance of one Soshiro Hoshina. You had been okay just being content with your life but he made you experience more than just contentment- he made your life blissful.

You couldn't imagine what you'd do without him constantly making excuses to see you. He'd bring in officers, any officers at all, and claim they needed treatment for rug burns or paper cuts, anything he could do to see you, to be near you.

He'd bring you your favorite coffee every morning just to be the first one to say good morning to you and put a smile on your face.

He'd even wait for you to finish work so he could walk you home, saying that it wasn't safe for such a gorgeous woman like you to be alone at night.

Sometimes you were glad you were weaker than him, so you could rely on his strength. And he loved that you relied on him, he loved to provide for you, to protect you.

But on some occasions, today in particular, those familiar insecurities would crawl their way back up to the surface reminding you just how weak you really were.

Today he was hurt. Badly. And all you could do was sit and wait for them to bring him to you on the verge of death. You would have given anything to be able to fight by his side, to protect him so he wouldn’t even need your healing in the first place. Sometimes you were scared you wouldn’t be able to heal him, wouldn’t be able to save him, he'd be too far gone. Maybe one day he wouldn’t even survive the journey back to you. Then what would you do? How would you go on with your life? Could you find contentment again? You didn't think so.

He'd even smiled at you weakly when they first brought him in. He was always trying to comfort you when he was the one that needed comfort. You thought you might just die right there beside him if you couldn't see that smile again.

You cleared everyone out of the clinic, anxious to start treating him. No one knew about your powers but you didn't want to waste time trying to treat him without them, he meant too much for you to start with conventional methods. So you kicked everyone out and got to work healing him.

You thought this might be the day your powers failed you as he didn't seem to be responding. But then you heard a groan and his eyes blinked open. You sighed, the sound thick with relief.

"Love, I know you're a good doctor but this is something else." He lifted his arms and examined every square inch of skin, trying to process the complete lack of an injury anywhere.

"Guess you weren't hurt that badly." You muttered nervously, trying to figure out how you were going to explain this to him.

He raised an eyebrow. "Dearest, my life was flashing before my eyes, I think might've actually been dying. So whatever you did, you did a hell of a job."

"Well I'm just glad you're okay." You were eager to drag him away from the topic.

"You know... I saw you, out there. Out on the battlefield when I thought I was dying. Couldn't think of anything else. You're my whole world."

You bit back tears. "And y-you're mine. So don't go dying on me again, okay? Promise."

He chuckled. "Can't do that love, but I'll do my best not to die on you anytime soon. Now are you gonna tell me how you yanked me back from the Underworld?"

You bit your lip.

He ran his thumb over your lip, forcing your teeth to release it. "It's okay baby, it's just me. You can tell me anything."

You nodded slowly. "I know, I know, love. It's just... it's complicated."

He sat up in bed, wanting to give you his full attention and support.

You got in the bed with him, not wanting to look at him but not wanting to be far from him, so you snuggled up against his chest as you told him everything.

He was surprisingly very receptive to the whole situation. Even cracked jokes about being able to get into more trouble now that he knew you could save him like that, which earned him one hell of a lecture from you about staying out of danger best he could.

As much as you liked when he visited your clinic, you never wanted him to visit on a gurney. You weren't sure your heart could take anymore scares. After being so lost for most of your life, you finally found a reason for living and you'd be damned if you'd let that slip away from you.

He held you close the rest of the night and reassured you with many sweet promises that he would be careful and that he'd try not to do anything to endanger his future with you. Once you were satisfied, you fell asleep in his arms. It was a weight off your chest to finally tell him the one thing you'd been keeping from him and you slept soundly against him, knowing he now had every part of you.

He slept just as soundly, comforted by the thought of having every part of you for life.

[lovezbrownies]

I wanna make a request for Yandere Bully, Lauren if that's alright?

Scenario: every single day, since the reader transferred to her school, they always have very visible injuries on their face and body. (ex: a broken arm in a cast, a leg brace, bruises and swollen eye sockets, broken nose etc.) Reader comes to school with these injuries nearly every day.

Then, it turns out that the reader is part of an underground fight club where the reader fights and gets beaten up every single night because they're poor and need to earn money for their sick mother's treatment.

I am so sorry for the delay! Very very long one ! :3

Lauren's Masterlist + General Masterlist

Synopsis: How would Lauren react to seeing you hurt all the time?

Lauren McCanister x GN!Reader

Warnings: Physical assault, fighting, bullying, isolation, crossing boundaries, stalking, made up illness, usual Lauren activities!, slightly edited!

“Mom, how can I tell the difference between injuries made on purpose and injuries made by accident?”

“Why do you ask, Laurie?”

“Something suspicious has been happening with my darling as of late, constantly comes to school in pain. Various bruises, broken limbs, and random swelling.”

“Hm… Let’s go to the big whiteboard in the lab, the living room whiteboard won’t be enough. Bring your notebook.”

You hiss in pain, trying to sit on your desk as gently as possible to not anger the arm whose bones you’ve broken two days ago at the last fight you attended. Thankfully it was only your arm, had it been your leg you wouldn’t have been able to participate in tomorrow’s fight. The underground society’s rules are twisted, any broken limbs are okay to fight with, even if both your arms are shattered, but if it were your leg? Not a chance would they let you register another fight. You couldn’t care less if you were battered and beaten almost to death, as long as you had enough to pay for your mom’s medical bills for the month. 

Your mother’s been sick for a while, and you’re her only hope to get her better. And even if she was terminally ill with little to no chance that she’d make it into the next year you will make sure that year would be the most fulfilling, joyful, healthy year for her. Your mother’s done so much for you as you’ve grown, sure maybe there’s been a few bumps along the way but there always will be when you have a parent. Either way, you will make sure she’s treated, you will make sure she gets better, and you are sure she will heal and become healthy once more.

Since you’ve changed schools you haven’t exactly been a very social butterfly. Not making any new friends in the new one and neglecting your friends from the old one, far too busy to partake in any friendships. One individual, in particular, hadn’t stopped bothering you, however, harassing and bullying you since you joined the school. Lauren McCanister, the most popular girl in school, a jock, gorgeous, and incredibly smart. She’d chase after you and obsessively harass you until either school was over or when you finally reached your home. Lauren for some unknown reason loved to follow you home, of course, while verbally abusing you along the way.

One very strange thing about your bully is she’s far too worried about your health for her to count as a bully anymore. An everyday occurrence it is, with your broken arm and bruises scattered around your body, she’d cornered you like a Lion, “Fuck’s this? Again? What, you broke your arm when you were cooking and juggling the ingredients but fell down the oil you spilled before that? Fucking likely with how ridiculous your damn stories are, I know these aren’t self-inflicted dickhead, who did this? What’s their name? Do you know them personally? I hope you know you’re m-min- Ugh, you’re my-my um… Whatever! You’re not supposed to be hurt! Get hurt one more time I will find who did it and kill them! Good lord…” 

Excited shouts sound out, and you breathe in and out, today is another fight, and another fight tomorrow, and as many as you can until your mom’s happy and healthy again. It was almost instinct at this point, go on the offensive immediately, get a few strong punches in, go on the defensive then trap your opponent in a death grip before throwing them down to the floor where you then proceed to beat them up until the ref says signals the winner, that is you, that they’ve won. After that is all the stupid celebrations and drinks and whatnot, you prefer to leave before anyone pulls you into a celebratory party. You’d rather take the money you owe tonight and get the hell out of there.

“Hey! Rel, wait!!!” Just as you are about to go to your manager for the cash someone calls out for you. Calling out a nickname only your fellow fighters use, it stood for Relentless Pain which is the name your manager gave you after a few fights. Looking back it was two other fighters who were also under your manager. “Oh sorry, what’s up?” Dick (Dick Crusher) smirked as he and Skull (Super Skull)  neared you.

Leaning into you Dick spoke into your ear, he needed to get close so you can hear him through the crowd, “I didn’t know you had such a hottie for a girlfriend!” Confused, you gave Dick a perplexed look, Skull leaned in to speak in your other ear, “Yeah! Like super super hot! She’s blonde, green eyes, really fucking tall, but in a dominatrix hot way, ya know?” Blonde, green eyes, and tall… Only one person you know of matches that description, and no way in god’s name will you let that evil bitch know you work here, else she’d use this shit against you.

This can’t be real, first, she torments you in your personal life, and now she wants to do the same in your work life? Lauren can eat shit you won’t let her take this away from you, you needed this job, and knowing Lauren she’d do anything to ruin your reputation. You panic, grabbing Dick and Skull’s respective shoulders, “What?! No way! Give someone my spare costume and have them pretend to be me, man! She’s insane! A-A stalker or something!” Panic settles into the duo’s faces as they realize the weight of what you’ve said.

Dick grabbed your hand, rubbing it softly, “We got you man don’t worry, we’ll make sure she never knows you’re here!” Skull follows up while taking off their jacket, “Here, take my jacket, you don’t gotta worry about a thing!” You muttered a soft thanks as you put on the jacket Dick offered, immediately running out of the nightclub the underground fight club is hosted in. You didn’t want to risk a thing, so you ran home, as fast as you could.

“Hey, lady! Here they are! The Relentless Painnn!!” Moron One called out to her, extending the word ‘pain’ as Lauren turns around, finally, you’re here! Finally, she can get an explain to her what you’re doing here, why you’re getting yourself hurt over an- “Who the fuck is this?!” Lauren exclaimed as she took a good look at the wimp claiming to be her darling. They were scrawny, hunched over, and had so little muscle it almost made her laugh.

Moron Two stepped forward, hands raised in the air, “Listen, man, you told me to get my best buddy, the Relentless Pain, and I did! Now, we will-” 

“Shut the fuck up, you absolute buffoon, if you value your life and family I’d suggest you get me MY Relentless Pain, or else I will make sure you will regret the very day you were born you absolutely pathetic piece of TRASH!” Lauren cut Moron Two off as she yells at the two ridiculously dressed nincompoops, the other nincompoop cowering in fear behind them both. Her darling wouldn’t fucking cower in fear! Her darling eats fear for breakfast!

Lauren growled, rolling her sleeves up due to frustration, “I fucking saw them! I saw them on the stage and this wasn’t them! My [Name] isn’t some fucking wimp! My [Name] has a fucking broken arm and this moron doesn-” It then hit her, this wasn’t some stupid mistake, this was all on purpose, to give you the time to run away from her before she can find you. Now she is confused and furious, why would you run away from your girlfriend? And why the hell would you run away from your girlfriend.

Lauren ran out of the dressing room, the two morons calling out to her but she had better priorities than those idiots! She continued to run, bumping into several people until she finally made it out of the nightclub, there wasn’t a single soul out there, except for some person wearing a hoodie, and walking away from the club, but Lauren was sure it couldn’t be you. You were wearing your fighting clothes, not a hoodie and shorts, but then again… Moron One had a jacket on when she first met them, but when they came back they didn’t have it on…

Was that damn bastard trying to hide you away from her? Fucking idiot won’t know what’s coming, but now she has to deal with you. Lauren calls out to you, she needs you. “Hey! You! Come back here!” She yells out at you, as you look back at her slightly, you face still hidden, and suddenly… The figure books it, running faster than she’s ever seen you run! 

You couldn’t be stupid enough to run away from her right? You know how fast she can run, don’t you? Cause this little act is going to give you more trouble later on, that’s for damn sure. Lauren scoffs and starts running after you, this chase reminds her of the predator and prey dynamic, especially with how much you’ve been looking back as she nears you. It… It turned her on… Sure, she felt a little shameful, but she’s a sadistic bastard, Predator-Prey dynamics are her bread and butter!

With lust on her side, she caught up to you pretty easily, grabbing your arm and stopping fully, pulling you back into her, laying your head on her chest… Except it wasn’t you, it was some… weirdo! ”Ew!!!” Lauren exclaimed, sick to her stomach over the fact she let some rando touch her. The weirdo stuttered out a few words, “I-I-I’m s-so sorry!! I’ll p-pay the-the bill I swear!” They shuffled around their jacket pockets, quickly taking out their wallet and handing it to Lauren. Which the lady then proceeded to push him to the ground and stomp back to her car, beyond furious over tonight’s events.

Maybe she was wrong, maybe you didn’t work at the club… No, hell no. McCanisters are never fucking wrong, and she will get it out of you one way or another.

Another day, another fight. It’s been two days since the Lauren incident, and surprisingly she hasn’t brought it up at all, maybe she wasn’t there, maybe it was some other hot tall blond! But you couldn’t think of any other person who’d claim they’re your girlfriend that looks like her, whatever, as long as she doesn’t ruin your career you couldn’t give more of a shit anymore. You spent the rest of the day as you usually do, hoping to god that this time she won’t try and catch you in the fighting club.

And of course, god doesn’t listen, as one could see the predatory Lauren had pushed you into an empty classroom, she straddled you and pinned both hands to the floor, careful not to put too much pressure on your broken arm, and before you could try and recover she had used her head to point to the sole desk in the room, where a camera was recording you both. She looked so damn smug you almost wanted to beat the hell out of her for humiliating you like this, for always taking advantage of you, for making you feel miserable any time of day.

“Be careful with what you do to me, darling, there’s a camera recording every single thing, and many more that I hid-” Lauren threatened but you couldn’t sit still and let her do whatever sick thing she wanted to do! You wiggled as hard as you could, managing to get a hand out of her grasp. The moment of hope quickly is stolen away from you as Lauren captures your wrist once again, “God damn it stay fucking still!” She screamed, accidentally spitting on your face, making you wince in disgust you were temporarily distracted and the spit aided in stopping your resistance.

The woman above you panted heavily, the smug smirk that was previously on her face has been replaced by a strong grimace, her hands tight around your own, and her legs tightly pressed against yours. This was bad, horrible. You were at a disadvantage, fight back and you have no life. Lauren’s the town’s princess, and if you dare hit her you will become ruined, fired from both jobs, no money to pay for your mother’s medicine, and no way out of the town with no money and no car.

Then, a strange sound suddenly cuts through the tension. She… Lauren was laughing, wildly even, as if she was reading your very thoughts, as her laughs slowly tuned out she shifted her face closer and closer to yours, noses now touching, her hair covering your peripherals, “Tell me. Why are you always hurt? And don’t lie to me or I swear to god you’ll have more than a broken arm after this.” Why is she so obsessed with what you do in your free time? Why does she want to know why you’re always in pain? Lauren hates you for all you know, always berating you day in and day out, so why so… needy?

You sighed, trying to look the other way, yet you couldn't see anything other than blond hair flowing all around you, to tell her or not to tell her… That is the question… Then you felt Lauren dig her nails deep into your wrist, she smirked as you yelped in surprise, looking back up at her, “Answer me.” Lord, she’s nosy… Either you answer and she tells everyone, which can lead to your arrest due to how illegal underground fighting is, leaving your poor mother all alone, or you don’t answer and she does some other fucking thing to ruin your life. One can never escape a McCanister with their sane intact still.

“You want to know? Soo badly? Fine, I fight in an underground fighting club, there. You can let me fucking go now, right? Since you’re going to ruin my life one way or another anyway right? Just let me have a lick of freedom before you sick the police on-”

“God, shut up. I’m not going to do anything, jeez why the hell do you see me that way?” She literally threatened your life two seconds ago, “Why are you fighting? You don’t need the money, aren’t you on financial aid?” Lauren asks question after question and it’s getting on your last damn nerve. Is any of this necessary? Should you genuinely be putting up with this? And all for what? To not make Princess mad? Who the fuck cares you have less than a year to get out of this hell hole and you couldn’t care less if she ruins your reputation, as long as you can still make enough money for your mom.

You rolled your eyes, sighing. It was fairly easy to overtake her strength, she may be a jock but you’re an athlete. You quickly turned the table on her, her now on the floor while you stood high above her, brushing yourself off. “You found out what you wanted, why I fight is none of your business, Lauren.” And you attempted to storm off, yet the classroom door was locked shut. Looking back at the blushing Lauren on the floor, you ask, “Why did you close the door, Lauren…?” Chuckling softly the woman on the floor slowly gets up, dusting off her skirt. She walked up to you, head held high.

A smirk was plastered on, her face full of mischief. “I had a feeling you’d do something like that, so I had someone lock it after I got you in here! And they won’t open the door until I send them a voice note specifically telling them to, so you have no way out until you tell me the whole truth, silly!” Her smirk only extended to a full-blown Cheshire smile, tilting her head to the side Lauren looked deeply into your eyes, expecting her demands to be met. 

This was a bad position, cameras watching your every move, a witness outside who is also the only way out. You couldn’t attack her and get away with it, breaking open any windows would take too long, and she probably already has that solved as well. Looking off to the side you let out a scoff, “Why’re you so obsessed with me? Don’t you hate me or something? You know with all the harassment, I thought you’d enjoy me being beaten up.” You honestly expressed to Lauren, though her only response was a big scoff, mocking you for your own thoughts.

Lauren leans towards you, leaning her hand against the wall next to you she has you in her grasp. “Shut up, who cares about why I’m doing this, just tell me why you’re looking for the money.” Lauren shamelessly brushes off your concerns, a need for knowledge overwhelming her. God, I’m just like Mom Lauren thinks, “Heavens, fine, if I tell you, you’ll let me go got it?” Lauren nods frantically, ready for whatever your reasoning might be, “I- My mom’s sick, it’s terminal and I needed the money for her medicine. That’s it. Is that what you wanted, you sick freak? To know my mother is ill and dying and I’ve risked my life for her? Are you satisfied-”

Lauren immediately cuts you off, “Which illness?” Her rude interruption stunned you, with no worry or guilt she asked something so incredibly intrusive… Fine, whatever it takes to get the hell out of this room, it’s getting hotter and hotter. “Willheim’s.” Silence overtook the room, you nor Lauren uttered a single word, up until Lauren’s twisted laughter began echoing throughout the room, you looked at her, rage overcoming you.

“Aha! HA! I-I’m so- ehe- sorry! It’s just so ironic!” Your hands are clenched, knuckles white with pressure. You wish you could blow her head out, “I’m so sorry, I laughed because my mother just discovered the very cure for Willheim’s. I can have my mother administer it to your mother for free, just come over whenever you want! I’d do a-anything for y-y- Erm, my mom made it a while ago actually! Just has been arguing with Big Pharma over the price which is w-why she’s taking so long to publish i-it!” Lauren stammered out, so nervous, so needy for your approval.

It felt like a complete smack to the face, all that work and pain, only to find out your bully’s mother had the cure this entire fucking time? It was hard to even comprehend the words Lauren just spat out, with just one visit to her home your mother would be safe and healthy again. It was both a dream and a nightmare, having your mother be healthy again is the only thing you’ve dreamt of for months now, but to know it’s Lauren McCanister that’s helping her? What a nightmare.

A stinging pain came from your palms, a wet feeling covering your fingers. You’ve been clenching your hands so hard your fingernails began penetrating your skin, what a lovely day. Your face filled with disgust, you continued to stare into her eyes, hatred swirling within your own. Lauren stayed quiet, that stupid smile of hers still going strong, “...Fine.” You mustered out, shame overcoming you, pride no longer intact. 

Somehow, Lauren’s face glows even brighter, and finally, finally, she backs off. Lauren gestures for you to follow her as she walks off the the back of the room, where a bunch of pillows and blankets and various foods and drinks lie. Strange how you hadn’t noticed that before. As Lauren sat down in the middle of all that comfort she extended her arms outwards, beckoning you into her arms.

“Come here. You have to tell me where all those bruises came from and who they come from… I’ll take care of you from now on!”

[hazshit-hotel-hater]

I’M STUCK ON THIS FUCKING PLANET. I’M STUCK ON THIS GODDAMN EARTH.

Tap photo for better quality

That’s right!! I’m talking even more about sinner bodies because I’m CRAZY!!! RAAHHH!! 🤪 SHES SO CRAZY WE CANT TAKE HER ANYWHERE!! 😝 it’s 3 in the morning and I can’t stop thinking about this goddamn TV.

I think Vox is genuinely the most fucked up character in this rewrite currently. Not really morally fucked up, there’s definitely worse people, but physical alterations in hell out of the main cast he definitely has it the worst. In my last post I talked about how Angel formed in hell and I want to go back to this because Vox did not form in hell as a TV or even a robot at all. He got formed on the road after dying in a car crash and was literally just this fucked up clump of wires and metal panels and had gross little robot hands and he had to make everything else himself and wait for his body to adjust to it, so he literally cannot regenerate normally. He didn’t even have a face yet or screen of any kind, just a little camera to see out of. If his screen shatters he needs to get a new one or if his body breaks he needs to get it repaired, thats why he’s able to upgrade his body and stuff.

And like yeah some tech sinners do just form as robots but Vox just is a fucking mess and I think about it all the time and thats why his demon form is all fucked up like that and I think thats partially another reason he hates Alastor’s ideals so much sometimes because hes like “technology bad!” even though he literally is also partially a tech sinner and hes just stupid but like without technological advancements Vox literally would have nothing like they wouldn’t’ve met, Vox would not have a company, etc, etc and thatd probably help a lot of people yeah like the Vees would not fucking exist but ignoring that, just on a personal relationship scale I imagine your “friend” being like “man I really hate the thing that gives you life and allows you to live a somewhat normal existence” hurts a bit.

Technological regeneration is a bit more confusing and hard to explain than biological regeneration since machinery can’t really “heal” in real life. The concept sounds almost bewildering, like you can’t cut a wire and have it slowly heal like skin would, you’d need a whole new wire. But Vox internally, the things that allow him to move and live how he does now, it’s the only part of him that he can heal, and to him, it’s still “defective”.

Vox is disabled mentally and physically; he has Autism, ADHD, and epilepsy, all of which he is unable to be medicated for due to his new body. These are all things that he hates to acknowledge and will become irrationally upset by if they are mentioned to the point he will actively to deny certain aspects of disability. Being a man from the 1900’s-1950’s his views on mental disabilities and mental illnesses are… less than uh.. “acceptable” for today’s standards. He often disregards slurs towards this being called slurs and insists that “They used to just be words” or “It’s a medical diagnosis.” yet still gets incredibly upset when he is ever called a slur that actually could apply to him. In a way he tries to come off as purposely ableist so that he doesn’t have to confront this aspect of himself that he doesn’t understand. His knowledge in technology or sharks or economics aren’t “special interests” to him, they’re just “regular things a man likes”. He can’t process what a hyperfixation is. He doesn’t know that it’s normal for him to be unable to speak on occasion or that certain textures make him severely uncomfortable. These are either seen as weaknesses or “average people things”. Aside from how terribly disabled people were treated back around the 50’s, he views the neurodiverse aspect of his mind as something that only serves to further push him from grasping the feeling of regular humanity again.

For physical disabilities, he doesn’t lie or deny that he has epilepsy, yes he has an intense disdain for mentioning it, but for very few people he is close with he will disclose this information to them privately. There are a very select few people that are aware of this and two of those people are Velvette and Alastor. This post isn’t really about diving into Vox’s epilepsy so I’m keeping this concise because I have another post to put all of that in. Hope you all enjoy the wacky art :)

The binary says “Trust us” for anyone curious

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

The Arcana HCs: M6 with an MC who's been through SA

~ here's some angst/hurt/comfort, friends. I've held off on writing this for so long because I know it's a heavy topic, but considering how I've yet to meet a femme-presenting person who hasn't been through this and how unacknowledged masc-presenting survivors are, I figured it was worth a shot. you are seen, you are loved, you did not deserve it, and you are more than worthy of good things <3 ~

CW for, obviously, references to SA (sexual assault) and descriptions of related triggers. Rated PG-13

PLEASE DO NOT READ THIS IF IT WOULD DO YOU MORE HARM THAN GOOD

-- for headcanon purposes, the details of MC's experience (what happened and when) are up to the reader's interpretation and comfort level. However, MC is able to remember it by the beginning of the prologue --

Julian

When you first tell him about it, you can almost hear his heart cracking with every word. He's pained and horrified

And he's not going to interrupt or make it about him. He carefully navigates himself to put all of his attention into listening to you without his presence being suffocating or overwhelming

Heartbroken

Waits until you've finished talking, and gently asks if he can ask you a few more questions in a medical capacity

He'll never, ever press you to share details that you're not comfortable with, but he understands the human body and given how much he cares about yours, he wants to make sure you're ok

If there's anything medical/physical that needs to be addressed and if you're comfortable with it, he'll do the gentlest, safest job of taking care of you that he's ever done in his life

His greatest impulse is to wrap you up in a hug and tuck your head under his chin and swirl his cloak around you like a pair of wings until you're all bundled up and safe

But he doesn't want to touch without permission, and - oh, please tell him his particularly blatant brand of flirting didn't bother you. Or if it did, please do tell him, because he never wants to hurt you

Walks on eggshells for each physical progression of your relationship because he's terrified of discovering your boundaries the wrong way, quick to establish that none of it is your fault

Never, ever lets you think less of yourself for it

Asra

When they first heard about it, they physically froze in place

He said very little. The only spoken words on his end were either to invite you to talk about it, or to comfort you. He spent most of the time with his hand over his mouth and pain and anger in his eyes

Their determination to never impose their feelings on you tripled, and much of their tendency to leave on such physically distanced trips came from wanting to preserve your personal living space

Made sure to teach self defense moves, both physical and magical

Long after your relationship turns from friendship to romance, he continues to ask every time he shares a sleeping space with you if it's okay, and is always happy to snooze nearby instead

Double and triple checks which kinds of touch you're okay with when they want to be affectionate with you. They can hold your hand, but please don't grab your wrist? They won't even touch it

Given how connected your bond makes you, both emotionally and physically, he's very careful about establishing boundaries

They can tell you're struggling emotionally - is it okay if they try feeling it with you?

He's on a trip, and wants you to feel a hug - is it okay if he sends his touch to you like that? Would you rather touch him instead?

Both versatile and creative when it comes to finding ways to share love without triggering you - wrapping their shawl around you in lieu of a hug, playfully sitting on their hands to share a kiss

If time heals all wounds, love turns the wreckage into a garden

Nadia

Her chin snapped up and the look in her eyes became so fierce when you first mentioned it that you almost became afraid

Which is why her whole demeanor shifted into something both soft and protective for the rest of the conversation. Tell her everything you're willing to, and then please let her take care of you

She's extremely gentle with you afterwards, until she's once again sure of what kind of physical and relational dynamic you want

She knows there's nothing wrong with her liking to take the lead, but she loves you and the last thing she wants is for her preference to play into your trauma. She does bring this up in conversation

What are you comfortable with her initiating? What are things she can change about how she initiates touch to make you feel safer and give you more freedom to speak your preferences?

Very, very gently asks if there's anything she's done so far that has bothered you, and offers you the most loving, sincere apology

Goes out of her way to make sure that you always have accommodations to let you ensure your own safety

Crowded party? She's got a quiet room to slip into if you need it, with a guard at the entrance and a signal if you need to retire

You don't like to feel restricted/touched in certain ways? Everything from your clothing to the jewels she gifts you are tailored to feel as safe and protected as possible

Nobody knows what happened to the person who harmed you, but you never hear from them again. At all

Muriel

You swear you could see him shrink a little when he first heard

It was like a little bit of life left his eyes, and all that was leftover was a deep, respectful, shared grief

It's not as if he can relate to the type of harm you experienced specifically, but he knows what it's like to have his body exploited and objectified for someone else's gain, and he knows it hurts

That's most of how things proceed at first - he doesn't drastically alter his behavior around you (let's be honest, he never touched you without knowing it was safe for both of you to do so)

But he does move differently around you. Even fewer sudden noises, body language designed to be as non-threatening as possible, a small, reassuring nod anytime you make eye contact

(though in that last case, the nod happens as he's flicking his eyes away and blushing at being caught)

Anything he can do to acknowledge your personal space and physical autonomy, he does, and he doesn't stop doing it

The more you find yourself comfortable opening up about what happened, or at least, how what happened has affected you, the more easy he finds it to open up to you in turn

Hypervigilant about how other people perceive you and their intentions with your personal space. Can and will scare off anybody shady with his perfected stinkeye

Always, always, always touches you like you're something precious, never without asking, with gentleness and reverence

Portia

She still feels a little bad about how extreme her outburst was when you first talked to her about it, when what she really wanted to do was give you a safe space to express yourself

Jaw dropped, a loud indignant "What?!", and then her chin wobbling with rage while her eyes began to well up with tears

Oh she wanted to scoop you into a hug so bad while she cried for you, but she knew that wasn't what you needed

Quick to make a time and space as calm and cozy and safe as possible to talk about it more with you, with fuzzy blankets and tea and snacks to make it a little less unpleasant

Not pushy at all, but not hesitant to ask you questions, both about what happened, and about how you feel about it and how that changes the way you do relationships and touch

Couldn't help crying for you on and off the whole time, but used her handkerchief quietly and refused to take attention from you

She's the most touchy-feely, so she's quick to ask you questions about what kinds of affection you're okay with receiving in general, what kinds you'd like to be asked about first, what to avoid, etc

Already the type of person who picks up on social vibes quickly, she never hesitates to steer you away from a shady character

And now that she's seen how it impacts your life, she's quick to ask around about people with weird vibes, and warn both you and anyone who seems like they might be vulnerable to them

Dedicated to reminding you how important you are every day

Lucio

He didn't get what you were talking about (beyond being able to tell that you were describing a past unpleasant experience) until you straight up told him without beating around the bush

Shocked, and later, furious

It ends up being a conversation you have to come back to, because once he gets a rough idea of what happened, he's spending half an hour pacing and brandishing his gauntlet and spewing threats

How dare they - how dare anyone think for a moment that treating someone as incredible as you is okay? He is throwing them in the dungeon. He's not Count anymore, but he'll find a way!

Doesn't think for a second that you could be remotely to blame

Which means he also doesn't think to remind you that it's not your fault and that you haven't somehow become worse for the experience until you bring up those feelings

He will happily rage about all the good things you deserve if you do

He knows you're strong and capable, but the thing he intuitively wants to do is make you feel safe. Whether that be by keeping watch while you sleep, or standing between you and strangers

Not very used to restraining himself when he wants to fling himself at you for a hug, and it takes a little trial and error for both of you to figure out what sudden affection feels safe and what doesn't

Won't hesitate to pull his sword on anyone crowding into your space or making you uncomfortable

Never sees you in the shadow of your pain. You are you - that's all

[laurasimonsdaughter]

How do you feel about the idea of vampires using blood bags and donor blood to sate their bloodthirst rather than drinking directly from living people? Cause its seen in a lot of more recent vampire stories as a “ethical/safer” alternative to feeding on people directly to make the vampire characters seem more sympathetic cause their “not hurting someone directly”. Personally i see it as horrid idea, a “road to hell pathed in good intentions” kinda thing. Bringing up awhole lotta ethical dilemmas around how this blood is acquired and used. Cheifly in that this blood could be used to save human lives rather then sate vampires hunger. Among several other ethical and logistical issues which could probably make interesting stories of their own.

I think that depends completely on the kind of world the vampire operates in.

Is this a world in which it is possible for the vampire to explain to an open-minded human what the situation is and obtain their informed consent to be bitten and fed on? And is it possible to do so safely and without (permanently) harming them? In that case doing that would probably be the most ethical solution to the need for blood.

But if its a world in which a vampire’s two options are “steal blood that has been collected from humans” or “attack and overpower a human to feed on them (even non-fatally)” then I honestly cannot fathom how the latter would ever be seen as the more ethical choice. How could taking (even stealing) something freely donated to be given to those in need of blood ever be worse than the violent assault of another person?

Of course, the traditional idea of a vampire is that they are monsters, parasites, their entire existence and need for blood is meant to be unnatural and, I guess, unethical. But stories that introduce the “drink bottled blood” solution are usually showing vampires trying not to harm people. The logistics and ethics of that solution are usually also a subject of debate. From the questionable: in Only Lovers Left Alive the vampires bribe a blood bank employee who is clearly making a lot of money off of them. To the horrific: in Vampire the Masquerade: Bloodlines the blood bank is run by the ghoul of a powerful vampire and it turns out he tops up the supply by kidnapping people off the street.

But if we think of a normal blood bank ran by normal medical professionals, who have dedicated their time and effort to helping people. Why would they not want to help someone with a permanent dependence on blood? I do not think for a moment they wouldn't notice if blood suddenly went missing without explanation. Of course they’d notice. And they probably wouldn’t be pleased. But I also think they would infinitely prefer their blood supply being stolen, to having to use it in emergency transfusions on a slew of traumatised, terrified people bleeding profusely from the neck after being dragged into a dark alley by an unseen assailant.

Now, if you ask me what would be the most ethical thing to do? Strike a deal with a blood bank or hospital to get the blood they are going to have to dispose of. In general the medical world is always eager for more blood donors, not because there is never enough, but because blood does not store well. Sadly, a lot of it goes off before it can be used. So why not make sure it fulfills its intended purpose to help and heal anyway?

But even if none of that was possible, if vampires had to remain in the shadows, and the blood bags had to be stolen. I would personally prefer to donate my blood and have it stolen, than be dragged into the dark.