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lunarw0rks · 1 year ago

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Angst Drabble where task 141 thinks reader was KIA but they just being held captive and was probably tortured until reader escaped?

☾𓂃❛🍰❜┊ we buried you

warning(s): platonic!141, canon-typical violence, torture mention, blood/injury, medical procedures, hurt/comfort, gn!reader ♡ masterlist // requests // ask box

you already looked dead and felt it even more. bloodied, beaten, and deprived of proper food and water for weeks. but you had your chance to escape; one chance, a slim one.

your captors' facility had been raided — before they could restrict you to a chair again. the man who was in charge had been dropped through one of the windows, and the commotion in the prison's corridors was too chaotic for anyone to hear the faint gunshot.

the ringing, and feeling of water trapped in your ears — it was a blessing given all the overstimulating chaos. no one was looking for you, not while they were defending their compound.

you lifted your head from your blank stare in your lap once you heard the heavy thump of his body. you crawled to the warden's corpse, fingering the speak button on his radio, but your vision was too doubled to focus. on top of it, you weren't sure you could speak. you gave up on that the second day into imprisonment. no words resulted in punishment, but so did the use of them. it was a double-edged sword of anguish.

it was now or never; any longer and you would catch an infection or bleed out from your injuries.

to find his gun, you would have to roll the weight of a grown man onto his stomach. maybe last week, before you sustained a broken rib you would've. but now? you could do nothing except stagger through the empty corridors with his keycard, deadened eyes doing little to observe a threat.

the luminance of the afternoon sun nearly knocked you down, an achy forearm raised to block the sheer brightness of the star. your best course of action was to keep moving towards the sounds of friendlies; now was not the time to be the hero you were trained to be.

it was a desert area, only adding to the dryness in your throat and eyes. the distant voices of soldiers, British ones grew louder as you advanced down the valley, eventually seeing a tank in view. what sounded like an officer or general, his shouts were interrupted by the downright grisly sight you were. a military undershirt matching his and your undergarments — crimson stains in the fabric, your skin, the cuts and gashes, bruises big and tiny, sunken and hopeless features.

❝don't move an inch!❞ he bellows despite you already stopped in your tracks, bare feet blistering against the torrid sand. it was only fair in a land full of terrorism — assuming anyone could be an enemy. his men raised their rifles as the officer approached steadily, the force of his squad as backup.

the keycard smears with your bloody fingertips fell to the sand before you turned your arm to him, flashing your only chance at getting back to your men; an insignia for the 141 across that traveled down your forearm.

his gaze softened as he gripped the tender flesh of your arm, inspecting the ink tattered by injury. he gives it a harsh rub with a wetted finger — but the tattoo is very real.

your legs buckled beneath you once you knew you were safe as if your broken body could only stay upright for minutes under the sizzling sun. you crumpled against the sand, eyes droopy and about to clench shut.

the last of the commotion you heard was the officer speaking frantically into his comms — and most notable, a familiar name. captain price.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

❝bleeding christ...❞ price muttered as you wheeled past him limp on a gurney. you were supposed to be KIA, buried and dead for months now. your comms had been lost, and everyone else in that transport didn't make it. but you were here, and barely breathing.

how you managed to stand, let alone remain lucid enough to identify yourself to British forces, he couldn't comprehend it. however, your captain wasn't surprised — you were tough as nails.

the medics worked tirelessly; wrapping you in cooling blankets, inserting a central line, IVs pumping fluid, and a feeding tube to slow feed you until your gut could handle nutrients again.

for hours; they induced your slumber, some much-needed shuteye as the lines and medications did their work on you. though you hadn't been moving much, your attempts at speaking and panicked looks around the medbay were inhibiting your ability to rest. but right now, your shallow breaths were like a living miracle.

you survived and made your escape out of sheer willpower — no one would forget this.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

soap was the first to sit with you, reading from a sports magazine. his logic? if you're up and bickering with him again, that means you're alright. your eyes would flutter open for seconds at a time, a small frown pointed at your chatty visitor, then they would shut again for hours. anything was better than nothing.

gaz and ghost only visited through the window into the medbay, a few minutes of observing your bruised body before they forced themselves to move along. or the captain did. the world couldn't stop for you, as much as he wanted them all to be there for you when you were lucid.

it was captain price that was. he gave the other three a light assignment, something that would keep the trio occupied for a few hours.

after what seemed like two days of medicated slumber, your eyes finally opened fully. you stared down at the stitches all over you, the soft cast around your wrist. most of all, the achy feeling is still ever-persistent despite the sedatives.

❝captain?❞ you croaked in a weak and emotional tone. you weren't in that prison, you were in the 'comfort' of a medbay. perhaps it was the drugs or the hell you had been through, but you were near tears.

his hand outstretched, a palm resting on one of the few uninjured bits of flesh on your arms. ❝you did it, kid. you... made it.❞ price's tone was soothing and low, like that of a parent consoling their maimed child.

what you had been through, he didn't need to know. he didn't ever want to picture it. what mattered most was that you were here and that you had proved yourself in the most heartbreaking sense.

he finds his pocket, pulling out his cell. ❝i have make a call to laswell. i can ask the others to visit if you'd like?❞ price asks softly, eyes remaining on you as he dials the number.

whether you wanted to see the rest of them right now or not, that was your decision. you earned it.

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servantofthefates · 2 months ago

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Life-Changing Money Manifestation Tip 💰

This is not a technique I learned from books, or a principle my elders taught me. It is simply something I have observed to be unfailingly effective.

I know it might seem counterintuitive, impractical, and perhaps even downright foolish. But it has been consistently true for me and the people around me.

The tip is: Never ever be frugal with money.

Even when you're afraid you won't have enough, be open-handed with your spending. Spend on your needs, spend on your wants, spend on others who deserve your generosity. Just. Keep. Spending.

The fuck, right? What if you already don't have enough to begin with?

Well, you know how they say, "Love is infinite" or "There's enough love to go around" or "Love multiplies, it doesn't divide"?

The same is true for money.

Money is energy. It just happens to have physical manifestations like coins, bills or gold.

Love too is energy. It just happens to have physical manifestations like kisses, words or gifts.

And it is common knowledge that if we wish to be loved, we must first love ourselves, and give love freely to those who are worth it. We must let love flow through us.

Same with money. If we want to have it, we must first spend it on ourselves and give it freely to those we deem worth it. We must let money flow through us.

And flow it will.

Just as it is nearly impossible for a cold-hearted person to invite love, it is also very hard for a stingy person to invite money.

I have seen this first-hand many times.

This man owned a boutique advertising agency. He gave out bonuses and free international trips to his team the way corporations give out cheap pizzas to their employees. And back then, this man's business thrived. Some months, he made more than global agencies did. And the awards were pouring in too. He was on top of the world.

Suddenly, his elderly mother got terribly sick, and he panicked. He knew he had to spend a fortune on her medical bills, and his fear got the best of him. So he cancelled the free trips. He stopped giving bonuses. Eventually, he even cut down salaries and moved to a smaller office.

One year later, his business went bankrupt. Because all his talented employees left. And with that, the trust of his clients dried out. His business — which had the potential to become an empire — ended up becoming just a TikTok trend.

Because he held on to money too tightly... money felt suffocated and walked out on him entirely.

The opposite example is me. No, I do not also own an ad agency. But I have learned to never worry about money. And since then, money has never disappointed me.

Last year, someone dear to me had been praying for a MacBook, but her parents couldn't afford it. I too couldn't afford it. Not without digging into my savings. So I did. Because I know money will always come back to me. And it did.

Two days after I placed the order, I received an email from Shareworks that my stocks were ready to be withdrawn. The amount? Double what I paid for the Mac. These stocks are released yearly, so I tend to forget about them. But they came at the right time.

And it is like this every time.

I buy a Louis Vuitton bag with money meant for my holiday. Suddenly, a friend invites me to go with them on a fully paid trip to the same country I was planning to visit.

I buy a bunch of tarot decks with a week's worth of transportation costs, and my company announces we're working from home for a week while they repair some rain damage.

I buy a box of Patchi chocolates when I'm already short on my monthly budget, and my salary gets released early because it's the holidays, and the CEO is feeling friendly.

I know life is not always as sweet as I described it to be. Sometimes, it's not about Louis Vuittons and Patchis, but about diapers and cough medicine. I am perfectly aware some people are struggling — not about holidays and tarot splurges, but about keeping the electricity on and putting food on the table. I will not pretend to know the solution to their hardships.

What I do know is there are people who are considered poor in my community who are seriously way happier than me. And I know I have had bosses who made thrice as I did who were far more miserable than me.

And that tells me that despite our different stations in life, energy is energy. And it's always best to let it flow freely.

So I repeat... never ever be frugal with money.

When it knocks on your door, say, "Hey, nice to see you!" When it leaves your house, say, "See you again soon!" And when it finally seems to be making itself at home, do not lock it in the basement. Cook dinner with it. Invite your friends over. Watch a movie. Do karaoke. Look money in the eyes and say, "I'm glad you've decided to stay."

#Manifestation #Manifestation tips #Law of attraction #Witchblr #servantofthefates #Witch tips #All About Spells

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marlynnofmany · 25 days ago

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One More Earth Animal

Since the only reason our spaceship had a cat was because I’d rescued a family of them from people who had no business keeping any animal, and since a couple of crewmates had helped in that rescue, and everyone was agreed that it was a deed well done, I was very interested when I heard that our newest courier job was transporting another rescued cat.

I was loading supplies on the far end of the ship when I got a message from the captain about this last-minute addition. I was the animal expert — from the same planet as our new cargo, no less — and she requested my presence. The extra info that the cat had been dumped on a colony world by illegal traders who hadn’t been able to sell it just made me hurry through the hallways faster.

As I entered the cargo bay, my thoughts were on whether I should have detoured to grab a medical scanner, and wondering if Telly would want to be friends with the furball in the cage. Where was that cage? Ah, over by the door next to the captain and the customer. Other crewmates were loading boxes while they talked.

“I’m glad you’re going in the right direction,” the customer said while she signed the payment tablet with several red tentacles, while waving two more for emphasis. “This isn’t the first time somebody’s dumped live cargo, and at least this time I know a guy from the right planet who’s eager for a new pet. Sounds like he misses Earth, and would be happy to have anything that reminds him of home. Oh hey, speaking of which!” She waved a tentacle at me as I walked up. “Another Earthling. Good luck all around.”

Captain Sunlight nodded and took the payment tablet back, every inch the dignified lizard alien. “Yes, Robin here has been a big help with animal cargos, cats in particular.”

“My pleasure,” I said with a wave. “Can I get a look?” The cage was the kind with bars on the front and only ventilation holes on the sides; good for animals that needed to feel safely hidden, but not great for trained veterinarians wanting to inspect them without opening the door.

“By all means,” the customer said, scooting the cage forward. “It’s been very calm. It shouldn’t give you any trouble.”

I crouched down from my tall human height and peered into the shadows, hoping the cat was healthy, not calm because of illness. Had they scanned it already? They must have.

A skunk peered back at me.

“Oh jeez!” I fell back and scrambled away, startling everyone in the room. “That’s not a cat! Keep your distance!”

Captain Sunlight immediately stepped away, alarm on her scaly face. “What is it? What’s the danger?” The customer was babbling in surprise, but I ignored her.

“That’s a skunk,” I said, fully aware that the name probably meant nothing here. “They’re a breathing hazard when provoked. They spray a toxic liquid that will ruin the air on our whole ship until it’s properly cleaned. You’re lucky it didn’t do it already.” I aimed that last at the customer.

She flailed her tentacles in distress. “It’s been very calm! Not afraid of anyone! Are you sure it’s not a cat?”

“Yes,” I said firmly. Then something else occurred to me. “Have you scanned it for disease?”

The tentacle movements turned guilty. “My assistant said he did…”

I leapt to my feet and raced down the hall. “Be right back! Don’t touch it!”

They replied, but I was already out of earshot, dodging past crewmates without stopping to explain. Rabies was largely eradicated on Earth, but this wasn’t Earth. And a potentially rabid skunk was infinitely worse than a tame one.

Eggskin was in the medbay; I didn’t pause to see what they were doing. I just grabbed the hand scanner from its spot on the wall and raced back the way I’d come. “Need this, thanks!”

Questions followed me, but I ran faster. Almost plowed into Blip going around a corner, but I ducked under her muscular elbow with an apology and kept going. Blop was right behind her, stepping to the side. The pair also had questions that I ignored.

Back in the cargo bay, Captain Sunlight was questioning the customer on the far side of the room, with Zhee and Paint also standing back. The cage was right where I’d left it.

I activated the scanner, getting as close as I dared. “Please don’t have rabies. Please please please.”

After a moment, the scanner pinged: Free Of Disease. Relief hit me like a wave. “It’s not contagious,” I announced.

The scanner was still processing, and it came up with extra information that made me laugh in deeper relief.

“Its stink gland was removed!” I collapsed onto the floor in front of the cage. “Doubly safe. Everything’s okay.”

Captain Sunlight said, “That is good news.”

The customer pressed several tentacles over where her heart probably was. “I didn’t need that kind of scare today! Clearly I should have words with the assistant who identified the species.”

“They got the planet right, at least,” I said, shutting off the scanner. “But yeah, if there’s a chance there are more skunks wandering around out there, you do NOT want to assume they’ll act like cats.”

Captain Sunlight was thinking ahead. “Will this be a problem for the recipient? Since it’s not the animal he’s expecting?”

The customer spread her tentacles. “He did say that he’d welcome any creature from home that could handle living indoors!”

I waggled my fingers experimentally, and the skunk waddled forward to sniff them. “I think it’ll be okay.”

Captain Sunlight asked, “This is an acceptable companion animal, once the gland is removed?”

I laughed. “No, they make terrible pets. But people have kept worse. I’ll have a talk with the guy on delivery, and I think it’ll be fine. This little fluffer has probably been raised by hand. And skunks really are adorable, once you get past that whole spraying issue.”

“Good to know,” said Captain Sunlight. She finished the transaction with the customer, who was more than happy to leave the skunk in our possession. Zhee and Paint expressed their own relief and finished moving boxes around. The captain volunteered to put the scanner back while I brought the animal cargo to our quietest storage hold.

I carried the cage very carefully, the polar opposite of my wild dash through the corridors earlier.

It took a while for Eggskin to find me, since apparently Blop had gotten a papercut or something that needed tending to, but after a few minutes the medic entered the storage bay with all the caution of someone approaching a dangerous creature.

Eggskin probably wasn’t expecting to find me holding it and cooing sweet nonsense while it chittered happily in my lap. But it really was friendly, and like I said, skunks are adorable.

~~~

These are the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book.

Shared early on Patreon! There’s even a free tier to get them on the same day as the rest of the world.

The sequel novel is in progress (and will include characters from these stories. I hadn’t thought all of them up when I wrote the first book, but they’re too much fun to leave out of the second).

#my writing #The Token Human #humans are weird #haso #hfy #eiad #humans are space orcs #skunks #in spaaace #always an exciting concept

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mazamba · 10 months ago

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Dani's Delivery Service

I just realized what'd be Dani's perfect job.

Delivery and messenger girl.

She gets to travel, she's definitely strong enough to carry whatever she needs to move, and Frostbite can probably get her a backpack of holding or something.

She'll move important stuff for free, but charges top dollar for Dumb Rich People Stuff (TM).

Need several tons of medical supplies shipped to an active war zone? No charge, just get better.

Need a gelato moved from Sicily to New York before dinner? That'll be five million dollars.

Need a box with "Do Not Open" marked on bright red on top? She'll need to know exactly what she's moving before she considers it.

She does move through the legal means, no skipping customs for her, so if the box's contents are illegal/harmful in any way, she might be held liable.

Every so often, she somehow ends up in the crosshairs of a up-and-coming supervillain for refusing to transport something, but that's just an occupational hazard.

#danny phantom #danielle phantom #dani phantom #danielle fenton #dani fenton #dp x dc #dp x marvel #the last two tags are mostly for the crossover potential

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lenaboskow · 5 months ago

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again back to the lightning strike, everyone says bobby kept eddie out of the back of the ambulance so if they lost buck he wouldn't have to watch it, but if the ambulances at the lafd are anything like the ones in my county (and based on 2x01 when they were transporting charlie i think they are, just maybe not as big of an opening), he would know. he could hear everything. there's an opening between the cab and the box, so that the driver can hear and talk to the medic with the patient. he would have heard them checking for a pulse, and saying no pulse found and resuming compressions. he heard every shock administered. he heard everything. somehow i think that's worse

#911 #911 on abc #911 abc #eddie diaz #evan buckley #evan buck buckley #buddie #buck x eddie #buck and eddie

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lynk-zee · 6 months ago

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Transported

Part 1 here.

Speechless. One moment you were in Zayne’s phone on a virtual date, the next a bright light engulfed the room, a life sized, in the flesh, version of you standing in his bedroom.

Zayne would be so confused—how is that scientifically or medically possible? But you were here! You were real! And your eyes shined so bright when you looked at him.

“Zayne!” You ran forward and slammed him into a hug. “It’s so nice to actually hold you…”

Frozen. He stood there, arms in the air from shock as your very warm and real body embraced his own. He must be dreaming…

But he wasn’t. Because you were still there when he woke up the next morning. Was this the rest of his life.

Zayne would definitely take care of you, teaching you how to cook, going on little dates with you. At least now the money he spends won’t go to a corporation. Now, all his time and efforts will go to you!

He was laying back in bed, in the middle of one of your spicier memories. Rafayel couldn’t take his eyes off the screen, especially when you started pulling your strap down to taunt him. Then something strange happened. Your dialogue box opened, saying, “Wouldn’t this be better in person?”

A bright flash engulfed the room, making him cover his eyes and hiss. All of a sudden a weight was sitting in his lap and when the light died down there you were, in that same outfit you were in during your “date”. His jaw dropped as you smirked down at him.

“Hello, Rafayel..”

Combusted. Rafayel died…

…Of happiness!

He would take such good care of you, worshipping you like the deity he thought you were, buying and dressing you in whatever clothes you wanted. He’d model his art after you, the prices of his paintings skyrocketing from how absolutely breathtaking you made his work. With you, real, and on his arm, Rafayel would be the happiest man alive!

Xavier was in the middle of a mission when it happened. Traversing through a no-hunt zone, wiping out any and all wanderers that lingered. He got a notification on his phone that your character wanted to go on a date, but he was so hunting wanderers that he didn’t notice. That made you mad.

So once the excitement died down and the wanderers in the vicinity were no more, Xavier’s phone started flashing. At first he panicked, thinking it was his evol was having problems, until the surrounding area was engulfed in light. And you were there, standing in your date outfit. Your cheeks puffed, your hands on your hips as you reprimanded him for missing your date.

“And I thought we had something special!”

Right as you were talking, a surprise wanderer spring up from underneath you. You screamed as your body flew from the force. Xavier caught you quickly, disposing of the wanderer without a second to spare. You looked up at him in awe, his jaw clenched in sheer focus as he scanned the surrounding area one last time. Then he turned to you.

“Are you alright?”

You could only blush and nod as he sets you down, taking your hand to take you home. Xavier took your sudden appearance with grace, having seen weirder things in his time. But as you hand fed him egg tarts at his home, he decided that this was the best phenomenon he’s lived through.

#love & deepsace x reader #rafayel x reader #xavier x reader #zayne x reader

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awkward-tension-art · 6 months ago

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Darkness on Umbara Chp.1 (Rex x Reader)

Hey everyone! guess whose in too deep!? me! I've clung to these fictional copy-paste men so much, you can call me a fucking LEECH!

Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 5. Chapter 6. Chapter 7. Chapter 8. Chapter 9. Chapter 10. Chapter 11. Chapter 12. Chapter 13. Epilogue

Landing on Umbara

cw: Rex x Reader, Reader is a medic, incorrect military procedure, graphic descriptions of injuries, blood, swearing, death and battle, Spoilers for the Umbara Arc, reader insert, reader is gender neutral, no use of (Y/N), if i miss a tag LMK

This is very briefly proofread so I die like a man

Minors DNI, even if theres no smut

Umbara was dark. From what you gathered, it was extremely fucking dark.

You prepared your supplies with Kix. As medics, you both needed to double and triple check every pack, case and box.

Kix would be on the front. His expertise was more front line first-aid rather than your position behind the forces. He would keep the men alive long enough to get to your hands where you’d focus on the more intense medical care. While you would be armed to defend yourself, it was better if you stayed out of the line of direct fire.

Your safety and position were tied to the status you were given. As a natural born human in the GAR, your life was inherently seen as more important than the clones. This thought process was something you were vehemently against. You and your fellow soldiers were on equal ground. You’ve always tried to treat them with respect, kindness and patience.

On several occasions nat-borns would disrespect or belittle clones in your presence, which usually resulted in a verbal lashing from you. Much to the joy of your General Anakin and his padawan Ahsoka.

And the affection of a certain Captain Rex.

You peered up from looking over the medical supplies you were supposed to carry. Currently your secret lover was across the hangar meeting with the Jedi generals, ARC troopers and commander of the 212th.

Despite being in his helmet, you knew you caught his eye. Rex didn’t give anything away except a small movement of his hand. Something Fives didn’t miss, who gave you a small wave.

He knew of your relationship with Rex. So did Anakin. But other than those two, it was secret. All for his protection, as clones were forbidden from romantic partners.

There was a surge of energy in the hangar and you looked around. Your eyes met Kix’s before you nodded to him, “Showtime.” The first wave was loading up ready to get to Umbara’s surface.

“I’ll keep Rex safe until you touch down.” Your medic friend winked at you before he stood, got his helmet on and got to his transport.

Scratch that, Kix knew about you and the captain too.

Several of the gunships lifted, flying from the hangar down to the planet below. The first wave of troops, including ARF troopers, were being sent down to clear the field. From there, a second wave of back-up, your wave, would join them. Your command was temporary. All you had to do was get them to the ground before they took orders from Rex and Anakin.

You adjusted your gauntlet with the communicator on it. T-minus 5 minutes. Your fingers danced over your supplies, double-checking everything you had.

Bandages, tourniquets, laser cauterizers, laser scalpel, bacta, patches, emergency suture kits…

“Ready, doc?” A trooper, Ringo, took you out of your thoughts.

With a nod, you lifted your pack and stepped up onto the gunship, “Ready. Let’s load up.”

Others followed your orders and soon, you were in the sky above Umbara.

Despite the first wave’s efforts, chaos still reigned. Almost immediately your gunship was assaulted by artillery fire. A shot exploded next to you, shaking the entire air vehicle. A ship to the west of yours burst into an explosion of flames.

In response, your second hand shot up for stability. A trooper had their hand on your shoulder to help keep you steady. After a moment, the transport stabilized and you let go, stepping to the back where a crate of supplies waited.

“Dare, how close are we?” You chimed on your communicator. Hopefully you didn’t startle the pilot.

“Landing in 30, I can’t get to the landing site, so you’ll have to walk some to the staging area,” he responded.

“Play it safe,” You commanded, “Land where you can. And try not to crash, I like living and I'm sure the other men do too.” A couple of clones snickers in their helmets. Your little quip helped ease the atmosphere it seemed.

You prepared a speeder. The small vehicle had been modified to carry a patient and allow you to transport extra medical supplies. It was outfitted with some extra armor and protection as well, so in an emergency you could activate a rayshield at the cost of the vehicle's speed.

“Doc, landing in 10.”

“Good job.” You spoke into your communicator before getting on the speeder. You counted down in your head, and just as you got to 1, the doors opened.

The troopers unloaded, guns ready. Shots were fired, though it didn’t seem as concentrated. Explosions were going off, but at a relatively safe distance. Seemed the first wave did a better job than you originally thought. Your speeder got to the ground, and you made your way to the staging area with the rest of the men.

The battalion had established some trenches, allowing a brief moment of rest and preparation for everyone. You stopped right at the small medical area Kix had skillfully established. Already there were injured in the double digits. Without pause, you got to work.

“You nearly missed the party,” Kix snarked, handling a blaster burn on the thigh of a shiny.

“I’d call this fashionably late,” you quipped back, getting your hands on a different soldier. Blood was seeping from the bottom of his damaged helmet, staining his blue and white chestplate in red. Your mind kicked into training, “What's your name?” You asked, voicing a kinder tone.

The poor clone was clearly in agony, responding with a tremor to his words, “S-Stag.” He swallowed, trying to control his mental state.

These damn soldiers liked to pretend everything was fine.

“Alright Stag, I’m gonna remove your helmet.”

He didn’t argue when you pulled it off revealing the extent of the damage.

Severe blaster burn. Missing eye. Jaw visible. Shrapnel from the helmet had pierced his cheek and temple. Concussion possibly.

His remaining brown eye looked wildly at you. You recognized fear. terror.

So, you gave him a reassuring soft smile, “Not too bad, I’ve dealt with worse.” Your fingers quickly wrapped around an injector filled with painkillers, “Here, I’m gonna give you something to help with the pain.” Your words seemed to have a positive effect because he nodded and let you treat him.

You worked quickly and efficiently, stemming the bleeding and getting him stabilized. When you were finished, he had calmed down considerably. Once Stag was stable, you moved on to the next trooper.

By the fifth, you realized one of them couldn’t be saved.

He was a shiny. Barely off Kamino you guessed. The plastoid of his chest piece looked to be shattered and singed from a bolt to the chest. His breathing was shaky as he leaned against the dark trunk of a glowing tree.

“I need a trooper.” you called taking the soldier’s hand in your own. You learned quickly into the war that the clones always wanted to die with a brother near them. A reminder that they weren’t alone.

“I hope I’m good enough.”

That voice.

“Rex,” Your head turned, looking up at him. You wished you could smile, but you had to keep your excitement under a mask. Plus, the situation didn’t call for it.

His warm eyes were on yours as he pulled off his helmet and knelt. There was clear sadness, knowing that this was the end for one of his men. So the only thing he could do was offer comfort.

“Fyre.” The captain spoke softly, “You did well.” He put one armored hand on the dying man's shoulder.

Wordlessly, you gave Fyre a shot for the pain and held his hand, “Everything is alright now.” you whispered to him. This wasn’t uncommon, when you or Kix were too late to save someone.

At the beginning you would burn through supplies trying to save everyone, only to fail and lose them anyway. Over the course of the war, you knew to recognize when all you could do was ease their pain and let them slip away.

It was the grim reality of the war. You couldn’t save them all.

Fyre coughed and squeezed your hand. His eyes closed and the clone took his last breath.

“Damnit.” you swore, checking his pulse. You only felt stillness. He was gone.

Rex sighed, “You tried. So, thank you,” He stood and helped you stand. He couldn’t let his grief from the loss overwhelm him, “I wish you stayed on the ship.” The clone captain admitted, “I get the feeling Umbara is going to be brutal. More so than previous battles.”

“You can’t get rid of me so easily,” Your eyes quickly scanned around. No one seemed to be close enough or paying attention to the two of you, “My darling.” you added, interlocking your fingers.

Your lover looked around quickly before he responded quietly, “Mesh’la, be careful what you say.” Despite his warning, he made no move to pull away. In fact, he stepped closer, “For now, at least.”

Of course, you knew the two of you had to reign in your love and affection in front of others. On the battlefield he was the captain and you the field doctor. Trying to push those boundaries would stress him out. Afterall, if his romance with you got to Kamino, they’d call for a decommission. Something Anakin would never go for, but better safe than sorry.

However, he warmed to small touches and brief moments whenever the situation allowed.

Your lips had a small smile, “I’m glad you're not hurt.” you raised one palm to stroke the side of his helmet. The battle wasn’t even an hour in and already his armor was dirty.

“Promise me you’ll be careful.” Rex murmured, keeping his voice down, “Please, ner kar’ta.” He was being protective again. Normally the captain was better at prioritizing. He was the leader of the battalion first and your lover second. But right now he seemed…spooked. Were things getting bad already?

Umbara must be getting to him. After all this assault was much different than other battles.

“I’ll promise if you promise,” Your lips quickly pecked his visor. It was chaste and fast, so no one could see. Just a sweet kiss between the two of you.

He was about to respond when his communicator went off.

“General Skywalker,” Your lover pulled back and raised his wrist up.

“Come find me, I need the status of our men.” Anakin’s voice sounded on the other end, “and tell our good doctor I said hello.”

You snorted.

“Right away, General.” the clone captain said, returning to his professionalism. He looked at you one more time before stepping away to find the jedi.

You sighed, “Back to work.” Without waiting a second, you found another injured soldier and began to treat him.

Your eyes glanced at the shadowy sky for a moment, unable to shake the pit in your stomach. It felt like something was deeply wrong.

The darkness on Umbara must already be getting to you too.

#reader insert #captain rex x reader #rex x reader #star wars x reader #the clone wars x reader #captain rex #clone trooper kix #umbara arc #clone wars 501st #tcw x you #tcw x reader #star wars the clone wars #Star Wars

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limerenceheart · 1 year ago

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Hii I just wanna say I LOVED that nahida/rukkhadevata reader sm. If u don't mind, could I request with that same reader with either jingyuan or luocha. It can be headcannon or story if you'd like!

hello! I'm happy to heard that since I was just making it up as I went along lol. I'm choosing Jingyuan for this request because Lucoha's ability would clash too much with the reader. I'm posting this as head canons because I am likely to do a jingyuan x reader x loucha drabble soon.

if it came to the crunch, I personally believe Jing Yuan would be more terrifying compare to Blade regarding this situation because of his social/political influence.

This temporarily role wasn't suppose to become permanent.

A quick stay at the Xianzhou Luofu to fulfil the role of the healer lady for this planet.

The blue haired woman arrived back yesterday, her presence signifying your dismissal but someone got in the way.

Jing Yuan, the general of the Xianzhou Alliance halted you from getting on the star skiff that would take you back home.

A few moments later, you found yourself being escorted back to your accommodation because the silver haired man declared there was an emergency that required two healers.

If Jing Yuan was a normal person, you would just ignore him and jump onto the star skiff but disobeying someone like him could lead to a political war considering you were from a different planet.

It still wasn't enough for you to shake off the ominous sense of dread, the way that Jing Yuan grabbed onto your shoulder along with saying your name felt too laid back.

The general shouldn't had felt that comfortable considering you only interacted with him once, coming across the slightly injured man after a practice sparring battle where you healed his busted knuckles.

A simple gesture like that wouldn't be enough to trigger something like this off.

You highly doubted that he remember considering it was weeks ago.

If the general did, then he was surely too interested in you and as the days passed, this hypothesis became more and more apparent.

It started off as subtle and small gestures.

recommendations for eating places, public transports tips, guessing facts about yourself.

it shouldn't been alarming but the whole thing hit far too home for it to be a coincidence.

As a healer, you couldn't tell him to fuck off though but you slowly began more trapped as time went by.

"It's just a custom for the host to show respect for their guest."

These type of statements would always be the answers whenever you tried to ask others about the general, no one took you seriously since a foreigner wouldn't be aware about the traditional customs.

This factor was backfiring so much that the only way others would take you seriously is that Jing Yuan would have to splatter bruises onto you and even then it would be very hard to prove he was the culprit.

You just tried to shut down all the negative feelings because the trip will soon end.

A letter arrived requesting your presence back home and a happy smile only appeared on your as you packed your suitcase till a pair of cloud knights came along to escorted you to the general's private study.

Jing Yuan cannot control everything.

Your bubble of naivety popped when the general announced the news that your planet wanted you to stay here as a medical student underneath Lady Bailu's care.

It was a golden opportunity considering the whole thing was being funded by the Xianzhou Alliance but it felt like your homeland just sold your soul to the devil.

The worst thing is that you didn't have a single say in the matter where you much rather be alone to process this but the general just wouldn't leave you alone.

"Oh (y/n), this is a special gift from Lady Bailu to as a welcoming gesture to joining her party."

The general slide the small black box with a red ribbon tied on top across the desk that you were standing in front of.

You grudgingly took the small box from the desk but the general once again spoke.

"Aren't you going to open it?"

It was a silver bracelet but seeing Jing Yuan's slight smile revealed his true intentions.

The man might as well have given you an engagement ring instead.

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr #yandere honkai star rail #yandere hsr #yandere honkai star rail x reader #jing yuan x reader #yandere jing yuan #yandere jing yuan x reader #jing yuan #hsr jing yuan

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randomsuggesteduseername · 5 days ago

Text

—I WANT IT ALL—

Steve Harrington x fem!reader

wc: 5.7k

contains: hurt Steve, fluff, mentions of death and the upside down, kissing

a/n: heyyy this is my first fic i hope i did it right and that you enjoy!!!

When the world split open a little over three months ago everything changed. You’re still not sure if for the better or worse, but what was sure was that you weren’t alone. The family you gained when you got dragged into this whole supernatural mess has stuck with you through thick and thin, not abandoning you when you needed them most.

For sure it’s an unconventional family, consisting of traumatised teenagers and some young adults you’ve only fleetingly seen in your high school days, yet you’ve never felt more loved and protected in your life, now when real danger is roaming on the ruined streets of Hawkins.

“Coast is clear for now.” Steve announces as he pulls the backpack full of weapons and necessities for his weekly patrol shift off his shoulders, though the weight of the whole situation still hangs heavy. Your eyes lift to instinctively give him a head to toe look to make sure he’s okay, it’s an instinct you’ve developed in time, one you’ll probably never get rid of. Robin and Eddie engage in some hushed small talk about something not so interesting at the kitchen island while they prepare some lunch packs for the refugees still inhabiting Hawkins High.

Three months ago, the high school became a safe space for anyone in need of shelter or medical attention. You’ve been one of the coordinators for the supplies which could still be saved from the ruined stores throughout the town, but as time went on, that responsibility stuck with you, now partnering with chief Hopper who handles the transport of boxes and boxes of food, clothes and medication being dropped off weekly by the military.

“How many do we have?” You ask Robin, holding the pen tightly in your hand, the tension ever present in your body. She ties the bag after adding a bottle of water before she starts counting while Eddie finishes the pack he’s working on. “About 36,” You nip your lip in thought, barely aware of Steve plopping onto the armchair in the living room, before you speak out.

“Okay, we need five more bags, and then Hopper can come and pick them up.” Moving into the living room, you grab your handy walkie talkie and rub a knuckle at your eye while you turn it on, calling out for Hopper, waiting in radio silence for a few moments before his voice comes through, confirming he’s going to come and pick them up.

The only people left in Hawkins are the ones who want to help the cause, some of the locals who are still too injured to leave, and a few military volunteers. That would sum up to about 100 people. It’s safe to say that the town, or what’s left of it, is deserted, but something has kept you all here, a sliver of hope that you’ll be able to stop this once and for all, and from the stories you’ve heard, the gang has done exactly just that three times before.

Putting the walkie talkie down, you decide to take a seat on the worn out couch in the living room, your head tilting to the right slightly as you gaze at Steve, reading his body language as you realise how tense and troubled he is too. “How was the patrol? More Dogs?” Questioning as you’re aware of the danger he faces each time he goes out, you know how brave he is for that and you can’t help but admire it. Having been a witness to his wounds when he and the rest of the older group emerged from the gate between worlds, he still chooses to go back out and face those creatures again.

“Yeah, the Bats seem to be distracted by the decoy we put up in the woods, but the Dogs are really cornering us lately.” You can see the worry in the line between his brows, your chest tight at the thought of smoothing out that crease with your fingertips, but you know that will have to wait for later. “Hop says something about a military weapon they’ll give us to fend off the dogs, so I hope it comes soon…”

Nodding, you look back at Robin and Eddie as they start moving the bags to the back door from where Hopper will take them and load them into the truck, you sigh before your eyes are on him again, lightly knocking your foot to his shin, trying to muster up your best comforting smile. “It’s going to be fine…Hopper always has these things under control.” You assure him as you trust that the chief will do his best to keep everyone safe, your small smile doesn’t fall as he nods curtly and lets his lips curl up a bit too.

—

Nancy and Jonathan came home soon after darkness fell over the town, they’ve been volunteering for the community, Nancy as a gunman and Jonathan occasionally staying on watch on the cameras placed all over the town. So dinner was shared between all of you which was somewhat of a rare occasion.

The canned vegetable stew didn’t take long to warm up, and despite the added salt it still tasted off, leaving a depressing tang in your mouth which was enough of a reminder of the current situation.

Sharing a look with Steve, you can see the need for some time off, some dark bags beginning to form under his eyes, his skin a bit more pale than usual. Wondering if all he needs is sleep, you lift your hand to your ear, tugging lightly on the lobe of your ear to signal to him silently that he can have your attention if he needs it.

The thing between you is as vague as it can get, not bothering to label it or try to make something of it other than a way to establish human contact and trying to get your mind off things, the last thing you’d need right now is a relationship. You pull your gaze back to the small bowl of soup in front of you once he mirrors the gesture, letting you know he’ll meet you after everyone else falls asleep.

The rest of the night is quiet, just some mindless chatter amongst all of you, and a game of Charades cut short once Eddie and Robin started bickering about how Eddie is not fit for the acting part at all.

Soon enough you’re moving up the stairs, pushing open the door to your shared bedroom, finding Robin already in it, her back turned towards the door as she lays on her side. You’re used to sharing a bed with her, so the sight is enough to let you know she’s about to fall asleep. Not wanting to disturb, you carefully lay down on your side of the bed and stare up at the dark ceiling, trying to not let the anxiety wave wash over you as you lock your fingers over your stomach while you patiently wait for the pattern knocking you know all too well.

And it comes just about thirty minutes later. Your eyes open again, though you were not even close to falling asleep. Padding to the door, you look back at Robin to make sure she’s still sleeping. You open the door and let your eyes take him in, tall and broad just as ever, though his shoulders are sagging a bit, no doubt feeling the tiredness creeping up on him.

Stepping out of the bedroom, you silently close the door behind you and follow Steve as he leads you to the bathroom. It might not be the best hangout spot, but at least you know no one will see you there.

That’s what you agreed on. Keeping it all a secret, involving yourself in a relationship is the last thing you need with the apocalypse already unfolding, so you two settled on secret meet ups in the downstairs bathroom, sometimes, if there’s less people in the house, even daring to hang out in the living room.

He lets you inside first before he follows and locks the door from the inside, leaning back to rest against the door while you hop onto the counter, lightly swinging your legs as you take a look at him. It always starts with keeping the distance and barely glancing at one another, though it never ends like this. You two are like magnets, especially when you’re alone and no one’s prying eyes are there to witness and judge.

“What’s going on, Steve.” You ask him softly to open up, tilting your head as you give him some time to think of an answer, biting your lip to suppress the urge to reach out for him. “I know you think you’re hiding it well….but I can see something’s not right.” At that, his gaze lifts, a tinge of something sad in his gaze, something which has your chest squeezing.

“I can’t do this anymore.” He murmurs, head leaning back to thump softly against the wooden door. “Can’t hide like I’m some kind of rat, stuck inside this cursed town.” You understand the feeling well enough, knowing that it seems like this will never end, that you’ll spend the rest of your days in this gloomy, dangerous version of the town you once loved.

You extend a hand towards him, watching the way he ponders that choice and ultimately decides to let his fingers thread between yours, squeezing while you pull him closer, letting him step between your legs as you settle your hands on his arms, rubbing soothingly while his palms press to the counter just shy of your bare thighs.

“You know how brave I think you are, right?” You smile softly, squeezing his biceps as he nods, his head hanging low, staring down at the white tiles on the floor. “We are going to figure out a plan…and we’ll execute it. Can’t believe in saying this, but it’s worked before, it has to do now too.” You can’t find anything better to tell him, not being sure of how much longer you’ll be able to hang on by this thinning thread.

Your hand travels up over his shoulder, fingers tracing his jaw before you tilt his head up to face you properly with a finger under his chin, your eyes getting lost in his momentarily like they always do. Taking a breath, you push some hair off his forehead, watching as he leans into the contact to let your fingers stay at the back of his head to play with his hair, soothing him as best as you can while feeling his arms wrap around your middle as he links his fingers behind your back.

Silently, he leans into your shoulder, placing his forehead there to rest, while you wrap your arms around him. It’s a silent tangle of limbs, your body warmed up by his touch and suddenly you mind seems to relax.

Letting out a satisfied sigh as his grip tightens on you, closing your eyes you let your nails trace softly over his back, feeling his body slacken a bit more, the tension leaving you both. This has become almost like a coping mechanism for both of you, a safe space to pretend like things aren’t the way they are, at least for a short amount of time.

His hands lay flat over the small of your back, index finger lightly pushing up under the hem of your shirt to brush above the waistband of your pajama pants, feeling the skin there as if it’s his guilty pleasure. Smiling to yourself as he tries his best to keep himself in check, knowing sometimes he’d like to pretend he’s not as needy as he really is, you coax him closer as your legs wrap around his waist and you tilt your head to the side, pressing some small, chaste kisses from the base of his shoulder to his neck, murmuring softly that won’t judge.

“Need anything, baby?” Asking in a soft tone, aware how much he likes to just be pampered since he always has to keep up a tough front and push through any of the hardships he faces daily, your words making a sound rumble deep within his chest which makes you smile. Pressing a longer kiss behind his ear, he turns his head to nudge his nose into your neck before you cup his cheeks, pulling his head back up to yours to watching his hooded eyes and slightly parted lips. So pink and inviting, you take a deep breath as you tear your gaze away from his mouth, focusing instead on how close he is to your face.

Whatever went on during these late night rendezvous sessions, you never crossed the line beyond comforting touches and soothing kisses. He never made a move for more, and neither did you, because the rules were pretty clear when you agreed on just using each other to relax.

—

Late nights with little to no sleep were an usual thing at this point. Sometimes you find it easier to lay awake than fight yourself to get some sleep, which is what you’re doing now, staring at the thin sliver of moonlight slipping through the thick curtains parted just a bit, as if it’s got you in a trance. You remember the nights spent back at home, finding the moonlight soothing, but now it seems to have the exact opposite effect.

The white, cold light makes you shudder, reminding you of the dangers lingering outside, ready to get you at any time. You shift uncomfortably, turning your back to Robin and the window, but you’d be a fool to think that it’s all it takes to finally settle down for the night.

Almost ten minutes later, when sleep is still a stranger, you decide to get up and take a short trip to the bathroom. Tiptoeing carefully to the one down the hall, your eyes focus on the door, a sudden wave of light blinding you as it opens, making you cover your eyes and stumble back against the wall behind. “Fuck..” You murmur and rub at your eyes before attempting to open them again, finding Steve in the doorway, a slightly sorry look in his eyes as he apologises and steps aside.

“Sorry, didn’t hear you coming.” You nod and take another look at him, his eyes bloodshot, his chest heaving a bit and his hair a mess, though not the kind you find cute when he comes downstairs for coffee in the morning. “What happened?” You prod carefully as you tilt your head to take a better look at his face, confirming to yourself that he looks like he’d been crying before you accidentally interrupted him.

It took you a while to coax it out of him once you pushed him back inside the bathroom and locked the door behind you, but ultimately you ended up hugging. His stuttered breathing seemed to instantly calm as well as his shaking body. There was something about you which had his brain turning off, leaving his mind worry-free. He grabbed at your shirt, let his fingers curl tightly into the cotton while he pulled you flush to him, his face hiding into the crook of your neck.

The position was slightly awkward due to the height difference but he didn’t seem to mind it, more so, he let out a soft sigh which had him melting even more into your arms. This thing…kept you going for months, it got you looking forward to something, a feeling which had been long gone for a while. So you both clung tightly to what you had, and decided to guard the secret, because this was not something romantical, nor something which friends do.

Blurring the line between the two was dangerous, yet you never seemed to care each time you ended up tangled into the bathroom, stroking soothingly at one another while you let silence surround you.

—

“Speak, Stevie.” You pout softly as he doesn’t seem to be in the mood to tell you what he needs, still wearing that frown which dents a line between his brows. You catch his gaze lingering on your mouth, wondering if he’s aware he’s doing that or not. You take a breath and follow his hand with your gaze as it leaves the small of your back, coming up to cover the side of your face and jaw, pinky finger resting on your neck while his thumb reaches up to rub your temple, the rest of his fingers curling gently at the back of your neck, anchoring his hand there.

You stare at him, unsure of what to say or even do, having never been put in this situation with him before. His eyes squeeze shut, seemingly having an inner battle with himself, his grip lightly tightening onto your face as you gasp softly, hands finding support on his chest, gripping at his shirt, fingers holding onto his collar.

You stay like that for what feels like hours, when in reality your hearts beat so fast time seems to slow down. “Steve?” You try again, wondering if your voice will break him out of the trance he’s been put in, his eyes opening again, pupils visibly swollen in size as he leans in, the tip of his nose brushing yours, having your heart lurching into your throat in surprise, you gaze nervously at him as he pulls back, letting his hand fall from your face which leaves behind a coldness which greets your skin.

“I’m sorry.” The words strike you momentarily, unsure of what’s going on, or even what he’s apologising for, all you know is that despite your promises to one another about what this would always be, you felt open to crossing the line the moment he showed just a bit of interest in doing so too. You hug yourself once he steps away from you, leaving you with an empty and cold feeling along your skin, watching as he leaves the bathroom with nothing but a brief glance over his shoulder.

—

Emergency meeting is not something you’d want to wake up to. Especially after a sleepless night.

Usually after meeting up with Steve you’d go back to bed and easily fall asleep until the morning, but this time you could barely lay still, thoughts of what this meant for you crossed your mind multiple times, your skin prickling with goosebumps each time you remembered how hot his breath felt over your lips, how intense his gaze had been when you locked eyes.

So now, getting dressed and trying to pull yourself together you realise it’s not an easy task.

You rush through the house, as do Eddie, Robin, Nancy and Jonathan. You briefly wonder where Steve is, not wanting to ask but luckily at some point Eddie mentions that Steve had to leave early to help Hopper at Hawkins High.

Once you’re dressed up, you slip your combat knife into the side of your boot, jumping into Eddie’s van along with the others. You sigh as you let your knee bounce slightly, wondering if something bad is happening.

The drive to the high school is not too long, though Eddie had to drive slower than usual in order to make as little noise as possible, but you don’t think that beast of a van can be anything remote to silent. Gazing out the window, you’re met with the familiar sight of split pavement oozing with black vines, the occasional group of bats swarming the area in search of some sort of food, no doubt searching for humans.

Getting out of the rusty van, you sigh as you follow the group inside, gathering in the gym where the meetings usually take place. Seeing some people already gathered, you let your eyes wander, guiltily searching for that pair of hazel eyes which has your heart skipping a beat. Maybe he snuck out of the house before everyone woke up in order to avoid having to talk to you or even see you.

But believing that would be entirely too self-centred when there could be a crisis on the way. Waving slightly at hopper, fully dressed in camo and carrying numerous weapons just as usual, you approach him with a small smile.

“Hey…is everything okay?” Asking to gauge his reaction, wondering if it’s really something to worry over or not. He squeezes your shoulder and assures you that there’s nothing to worry too much about. The breath you let out empties your lungs and relaxes you. Thanking him, you take a step back before the sound of familiar heavy boots scruffs across the floor, coming to a stop behind you.

You don’t have to turn around to see who it is when the deep rumble of a voice comes out, making your thoughts briefly fill with the images from the previous night.

Turning around, his eyes fall onto you for a brief moment before seems to pull himself together and talk to Hopper. Taking the sign, you bite your lip and decide to leave them to talk alone, heading back to the rest of the group.

Immediately being bombarded with questions about the meeting, you shrug, letting them know that it’s not something too bad, and that Hopper wouldn’t tell you exactly what this is about. Feeling a sort of tightness in your chest, you sigh, trying to get rid of it. Unsure why his indifference to you suddenly made you feel some sort of way it never did before.

Turning your attention to Hopper as he starts talking to the group of people who managed to join you into the gym, your brows furrow as he mentions needing some volunteers to go out in the woods, saying two of the people living here went missing after they allegedly left and couldn’t find their way back.

Taking a deep breath as you know how dangerous the forest can be, your eyes widen as Hopper mentions that the volunteers need to talk to Steve so they can be put on the list. Wondering why he wants to join the search party, you suspect it has something to do with what he said the night before, about not being able to stay hidden any longer, knowing that putting himself out there isn’t really a smart move.

Seeing a few men volunteering to go out, you toy with your fingers, taking a look at Steve again, though this time he’s already looking at you, his eyes snapping away as if he’s been caught red handed, you knowing you should talk to him about what almost happened the previous night.

“He’s insane…dingus needs to learn his place sometimes…” You hear Robin talking to Nancy behind you, clearly disapproving of Steve’s initiative as well as you do. You try to keep silent, continuing to listen to them as Nancy says that he’ll always want to help, being in his nature to protect.

Aware that’s true due to the stories the kids told you about him, how the great Steve fought the Dogs so effortlessly, and how he kept the upside down creatures at bay with only his infamous nail bat. You still feel worry gnawing at your stomach.

Not long after the meeting ends, Steve comes to greet the group, but he doesn’t get to as Robin immediately voices out her concern. “It’s a death sentence, dingus…think about it!” She presses again, tapping the side of his head with her fingers, trying to get her point across, though it seems to fall on deaf ears.

“She’s right.” You speak up, ignoring the thought that he might not care about what you think. “You’re already putting yourself in enough danger as it is with the patrols.” Your eyes settle onto him, seeing him briefly thinking about it before he lets out a deep breath.

“Those two people are still out there, we need to save as many of us as we can, so I’m not going to wait around for them to die.” He speaks, seemingly set on his choice, and you know whatever you’re going to say, it won’t be enough for him to give it up. Nodding in defeat, you watch as he lets you all know not to wait up for him since he’s probably going to come home late.

—

“Mrs. Click started staring at me as if I was the one eating in her class…” You laugh as Robin tells you about her time in high school since you didn’t have the luck to share any classes with her back then. “And guess who was munching on pringles, high as a kite, behind me.” You cover your mouth and laugh, whisper shouting at her.

“I didn’t know he smoked.” Slightly shocked to find out Steve used to smoke weed in high school, you shake your head and smile, toying with a loose thread on the sleeve of your sweater, your gaze lifting to Robin again as she asks about you and Steve. “Hm? What about it?”

Slightly nervous of her sudden curiosity, unsure what she’s going to want to ask next, you breathe in as she says that she keeps catching you staring at one another, wondering if you’ve really been that obvious about it.

Catching the suspicious look she gives you as you insist everything’s okay, even more than that, you shift on the couch as she says that it’s time for her to go to sleep, asking if you’re coming now too. “I don’t think so…I’ll stay up for a bit longer.” You murmur as you swallow down, shifting as you look out the window, the night outside turning everything black, making it hard for you to see.

Closing your eyes for a bit, you tell yourself you’ll go up soon, though the more you sink into the couch the harder you find it to keep track of your thoughts, soon enough your head lulling to the side, falling into a soft sleep. Barely managing to rest, your unconscious thoughts keep leading you back to him, as if he’s put some kind of spell on you which is holding your mind hostage.

It wouldn’t be so bad if you wouldn't have promised yourself that there will never be something between the two of you, that you’ll end it before you can let your feelings get the better of you. But now, being faced with the exact thing you feared you realise that you don’t want to stop seeing him. You can’t.

It’s strange, getting attached to someone you don’t even know that well, who occasionally gives you some attention, yet, the moment the front door opens, you jolt slightly, waking up as your head turns to the door to find Steve coming inside.

“Hey. Done with the search party?” Asking softly, trying not to scare him as you were waiting in the dark, his head nods as he lets out a pained breath before he bends down to pull off his boots. Standing up with a frown, taking in his stance, you wonder if he’s hurt, your worries being confirmed the moment he grunts and clutches his side as he stands up straight.

Rushing to him, you watch how his palm presses over the side of his waist, lightly hooking your hand around his elbow as you silently bring him to the bathroom. He trusts you, so he lets you guide him inside the bathroom, the bright bathroom light having him twitch slightly. “I’m okay, it’s not that bad.” He tries to sound reassuring, but the way he leans back against the counter and clutches it tightly might suggest otherwise. Helping him shuck off his bomber jacket, you let it fall on the floor, tucking some hair behind your ear as you grab the hem of his sweatshirt, pulling it up as your gaze falls into the bat bite mark against his ribs.

Some anger rises into your throat, wanting to break down and tell him that you were right to worry about him, but all you find yourself able to do now is tut gently and start searching for the first aid kit. Taking the red box out, you look for the antiseptic as you pour some on a clean rag. Hesitating for a moment as you take a look at him, you speak softly, giving his wrist a comforting squeeze.

“Stay still, please.” He nods, breaching for the wave of pain once you start cleaning him carefully. Thankfully the damage is not that bad, looking like the bat barely got to latch on, but the canine marks go pretty deep into his flesh. Whispering soft apologies from time to time, you breathe in and throw the rag into the sink once his skin and wounds are clean. Pulling out a bigger bandage to fit the twin puncture marks, you wrap his wound up, his voice coming out soft from above you.

“I went through worse…it’ll be fine.” What he means by worse you know pretty well, the scarred tissue along his sides, back and the clear mark along his neck are proof enough of what ‘worse’ means for him.

“Steve, shut up.” You mumble, not being very fond of the memory of patching him up, how raw and hurt he looked will always stick with you. Sighing as you take a step away from him, letting his sweatshirt fall back down, you gaze at him for a moment too long before you look at the floor.

“Did you wait up for me?” He questions as he seems to carry a sort of hopeful glint in his eyes that you did stay downstairs to see him get home safe. Feeling like you’ll embarrass yourself by saying yes, you shrug and mumble. “I- I guess I fell asleep.”

“Oh,” Watching him purse his lips, the silence settles between you as you wonder if bringing up what happened the other night is really a good idea. “It’s late..” He murmurs, wondering if he’s just trying to send you away, but you shake your head, lifting your gaze as you feel a sting crawling its way to your eyes, lifting your hand to tug on the lobe of your ear.

His eyes immediately clock onto the gesture and he does the same, reaching out for you as if he was waiting for you to initiate the contact he’s been needing so much too. Biting your lip, you wrap your arms around his waist, letting yourself grip his sweatshirt as his large hands splay over your back, rubbing soothingly as he lays his chin on your head, making your eyes close as he envelops you fully.

Taking a deep breath, you ponder the consequences of asking him about the near kiss you shared the previous night, keeping your face against his chest, as if it’ll protect you from facing the embarrassment of rejection, you breathe in and close your eyes.

“Last night….did you- did you want to kiss me?” You wait for an answer you’re afraid might not come, wondering if he’ll flee on you again. His grip tightens slightly on you, hands stilling over your back as he takes in a breath. You can hear the cogs turning in his head, wondering if this is your cue to step away from him and leave.

“If I did…would it be so bad?” Asking softly as your breath hitches, you dare to pull your head back from his chest, gazing up at him as you nip on your lip in thought. “No, I guess not.” Your fingers fiddle with the cotton of his sweatshirt as you nervously gaze up at him, your heart lurching in your throat as he cups the side of your face just like he did the other night, this time the touch doesn’t feel so fleeting.

Eyes twinkling as you stare up at him, following the way his gaze dips down to your lips again, making you press yourself closer for him, silently begging him to do it.

The first thing you feel is the way his hair tickles your forehead, followed by the bump of his nose into your cheek, making your eyes fall shut in anticipation before the plushness of his lips cover yours. Soft and warm, they move against yours as if he’s trying to get to know you better, his thumb soothing you with stroking motions over your cheekbone while he pulls back for a moment, smiling to himself as he finds your eyes still shut, leaning in to chase his lips.

His chuckle has you opening your eyes, a crimson blush spreading over your cheeks as he speaks, smiling lightly. “Greedy…” You open your mouth though it shuts again as you give his chest a soft shove, smiling too as he doesn’t waste much time, kissing you once again. Humming into it, your hands lift to the back of his neck, hooking them there to keep yourself upright, as if his kisses don’t make your legs turn to jelly.

Sensing you're in need of support, he wraps his arms around you, switching places as he hikes you up onto the kitchen counter, like you usually stay when you’re here together. Brushing his hand over your arm, he traces his fingertips down to your hand and laces your fingers together, resting your hands against your thigh as he lets his tongue be a bit bolder, licking a thin line over your bottom lip which has you letting out a soft, embarrassing sound.

Smiling into it, his lips part as he lets the kiss get deeper, humming softly as you arch and settle your arm along his shoulders, you tilt your head back as he pulls away to watch you. Biting your lip at the flush which lingers onto his cheeks, his eyes creasing lightly at the edges due to his smile, you hum and give his lips a soft peck, looking down at your locked hands.

Maybe these are not the best circumstances to start a relationship, maybe you’re supposed to push him away, but how can you subject yourself to this lonesome existence when you’re constantly in danger?

#stranger things #steve harrington #steve x reader #stranger things season four #steve harrington fluff #fem reader #joe keery #stranger things fic #fanfic #first post

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sirfrogsworth · 11 months ago

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Mounjaro's Revenge: The Inevitable Adventures of Froggie, Chapter Unknown

I keep saying I can't leave the house without having some kind of adventure. And I really thought I was going to have a quick, uneventful doctor's visit with my monthly checkup this past Wednesday. I'd go in, they'd check the box Medicare requires every month, and I'd come straight home.

But adventure seeks me out. I can't seem to escape its grasp. And, yes, sometimes I like having adventures. They give me something to write about. And sometimes they are fun memories. But sometimes adventures just make me tired. And not all adventures are positive.

For the past 3 weeks I have been on the second dosage amount of Mounjaro. Unlike the Ozempic, I have had a few issues with side effects. Roughly 48 hours after my injection, I get sick to my stomach and feel pukey. It lasts for about two hours. I either vomit and lose the urge or I hold it in and it fades. I am then compelled to take a nap.

Considering the weight loss and glucose control, getting sick for an hour or two per week isn't a huge deal. There is a good chance I will get used to the medication as time goes on, but even if I don't, I am okay with this consequence.

My injection day was Tuesday, and based on past experience, I figured I'd have until Thursday morning before I got sick. The past 2 episodes happened at almost identical times, so I figured Wednesday wouldn't be a problem.

But right before my doctor's appointment I started feeling extremely... rough.

Optimistic for no good reason, I was hopeful I could get through the appointment before the urge to vomit arrived.

I get to the office and there are 3 patients ahead of me. This was not a good sign. My doctor tends to overbook and I was probably going to have a bit of a wait. I arrived in the middle of a lively conversation about where to get a good steak in St. Louis. I'm used to waiting rooms being full of quiet and bored people staring at their phones so when I opened the door it felt like the conversation smacked me in the face.

The cast of characters were as follows...

There was an older black man who had the spirit of a kindly grandpa. He seemed nice and wise and was enjoying the steak conversation. Let's call him, Old Guy.

There was an older white fellow who was anxious about the wait time due to having another appointment soon. He was on hold with the other doctor's office trying to delay his appointment time. He was only mildly interested in steak due to that distraction. I already used Old Guy, so... Anxious Guy.

And then there was the steak expert who was leading the conversation. Actually, leading is not strong enough. He was *dominating* the conversation. As I sat down and his visage entered my field of view, I was a bit taken aback.

Do you know how in Star Trek everyone has a mirror universe doppelganger who may look the same, but they usually have personality traits that are reversed?

They are often identified by arch overacting or a change in facial hair.

The steak expert was my mirror universe counterpart. He was of similar age, height, and weight. Same color hair and eyes. He even wore similar clothing.

But he had a goatee instead of a beard. *gasp*

And he wore... sandals. *double gasp*

He had clearly been in a recent transporter mishap.

I mean, I could *never* wear sandals. The world is not ready to handle my nude foot and I find very few sandals have the load-bearing capacity necessary for people my size. You are asking for foot pain if you are over 300 pounds and wearing sandals.

Mirror Froggie was very outgoing and personable, but he had trouble filtering what he said and was often obliviously rude. He clearly thought himself to be hilarious but struggled to make even kindly Old Guy chuckle.

Old Guy said, "I think Longhorn makes a decent steak for the money."

And then Mirror Me's unfiltered response... "Longhorn is shit. You shouldn't eat there. You are wasting your money on shit steak."

"I don't know, I've always enjoyed..."

"I'm telling you, friend, it is shit steak. End of story."

You could tell that made Old Guy feel bad for suggesting what he liked. But he brushed it off and asked for a better suggestion. Mirror Froggie confidently told him of a restaurant called "Sam's" that had "the best steak in town."

Old Guy proceeded to ask Siri to look up Sam's and it took a few tries. He reminded me of my dad fighting with the iPhone and repeating things over and over with increasing volume. I think Old Guy wasn't specific enough as he got the wholesale club on the first few attempts. Finally he said, "SAMMM'S STEAKHOUSSSSE" and found success. Old Guy saw the reviews and some of them were... not great.

But Mirror Froggie was like, "You can't read reviews. They're all liars." And I was questioning why people would take the time to lie about a small St. Louis steakhouse, but whatever. He then said it was because the restaurant was in disrepair and needed new plumbing, but that's why they could sell such amazing steak at reasonable prices.

Theories are less logical in the Mirror Universe. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Anxious Guy got off his phone call and cursed into the void. He missed his other appointment. He interjected with, "Is that Sam's place expensive?" And that sent Mirror Froggie into a long diatribe about the price of meat at different places and his annoyance at steak-related inflation. Soon after, Anxious Guy finally got in to see the doctor. Old Guy was keeping Mirror Froggie busy with conversation, so I just closed my eyes and rested as they discussed the price of oversized shrimp "as big as your fist". I guess they ran out of things to say about steak.

As they were talking I started to get a spidey-sense about Mirror Froggie.

He *needed* conversation.

He *needed* distraction.

His boredom abhors a vacuum.

Whenever there was a lull or silent moment, I could see him getting very antsy. And if Old Guy got called in before Mirror Froggie... I was going to have a problem.

I was feeling sicker by the moment and did not have the bandwidth to help some stranger with his inability to accept boredom.

And... Old Guy was next.

Because, of course he was.

I feel like sitting there with my eyes closed and also not having said a word the entire time was a pretty decent social cue that I was not interested in talking. But Mirror Me decided to poke that notion with a stick in order to find a way in.

He speaks barely above a whisper, "I wish I could sleep in a public waiting room. Not sure how you do that."

"Yeah, I'm not feeling well. Nothing contagious, just very tired."

"Well, if you're sick, I guess you're in the right place, am I right? *long pause* Cuz we're next to a hospital. *short pause* Right?"

Oh great, he's a joke explainer.

Mirror Froggie did not care about my desire to sit in peace while I waited. His foot was anxiously a-tappin' and he was vibrating with energy that needed someplace to go. He tried standing up and walking in circles. And I guess because my eyes were shut he decided to narrate his walking and stretching to keep me informed. That satisfied him for roughly 20 seconds. He sat back down and was clearly struggling to be alone with his own thoughts.

"Hey, friend."

I open my eyes slowly.

"Do you see that magazine next to you? Would you mind handing that to me?"

I thought, "This is good. He's seeking out an alternate source of stimulation. He can read the magazine and I can rest until my turn."

Seriously, brain... where is this optimism coming from? I've been a cynical misanthrope for like 4 years now.

He flips through a few pages. "Look at this. It's got Oprah on the cover. It's got to be good, right? They don't put Oprah on the cover unless it is good, ya know? Though she doesn't look right after losing all that weight. You know what I mean, friend?"

Well, shit.

I didn't give him a distraction, I gave him a conversation starter. Still, I kept my eyes closed in the hopes he would give up.

"Hey, friend."

Crap.

"You want to hear a joke?"

I open my eyes. I'm not getting out of this.

"Sure." as unenthusiastically as I can manage.

He proceeds to tell three jokes all strung together. All of them terrible and none of them coherent enough for me to remember. I gave him complimentary singular chuckles even though two of the punchlines didn't make sense. I think one was about accidentally eating cat food.

"Hey, friend... how'd you like my jokes?"

I jokingly replied back, "Well, you said *a* joke and that was *three* jokes. That wasn't what I agreed to."

He chuckles and I close my eyes again.

"Hey, friend."

Jesus Christ, would someone jingle their keys for this dude?

"Do you want to hear a 'locker room' joke?"

Oh fuck me.

"I... guess?"

There was no way out of this aside from unpleasant confrontation and my energy calculation of that was much higher than just suffering through a dirty joke.

Here it is, as best as I can remember...

"So there is a pirate ship. And the captain has a beautiful daughter who has come aboard. He tells her that the crew hasn't seen a woman in a long time and they aren't safe to be around, so she should keep a razor blade 'down there.' After the voyage he assembles all of his men and instructs them to pull down their pants. Every one of them has had their dick cut off... except for one. The captain goes up to the only one with their dick intact and says, 'Thank you for not deflowering my only daughter. You should be commended for your restraint. And as a reward, I will make you my first mate.'"

I literally cannot type the punchline because it was an unintelligible noise. Basically, Mirror Froggie imitated someone without a tongue trying to speak.

Yeah. That happened.

I could not hide my disdain for this joke and I was feeling too awful to muster up any kind of response. He seemed confused by the absence of laughter from his wonderful rapey body mutilation joke.

"You get it, friend? He lost his tongue because he ate her pussy."

Yes, explaining the joke always helps... friend.

In whatever the opposite of the nick of time is, moments after this stranger said "ate her pussy"... the nurse calls Mirror Froggie in for his appointment.

I would feel relieved, but the Mounjaro side effects were getting worse and the urge to lose the remaining nutritional value from last night's dinner was increasing by the moment. I was next in line, so I was hoping Mirror Froggie didn't take up too much of the doctor's time with horrible "locker room" jokes and dubious steakhouse suggestions.

Roughly 5 minutes later the nurse calls me in to get my vitals. She weighs me and I am down another 3 pounds. That reminded me of why I was suffering this tummy tantrum. My blood pressure was perfect but my pulse was quite high. I was very anxious holding in my stomach contents and I tried to explain, but she asked me to try and relax to lower my heart rate. We compromised when I got it down to 107.

The nurse keeps forgetting that I don't really have a family anymore. And I know she has a lot of patients in and out and they probably all blend together. But she always ends up asking me questions that require me to remind her my parents are dead.

"Did your mom put up the Christmas tree yet?"

I went with, "No tree this year. Too much work."

"Aw, that's too bad. I actually got mine up early this year. You gotta put up a tree for Christmas."

Thankfully her job was done at this point and she abruptly ended the conversation.

Next up, the pee guy.

He has never actually told me what his name is so that is just what I call him in my head.

Every month I have to sacrifice my urine to the gods of Medicare so they know I am taking my meds and not selling them on the mean streets of Spanish Lake. And the pee guy always comes in to collect my sample. The little cup is kept in a white paper bag for discretion. He used to just give you a clear ziplock, and that was a little embarrassing, as everyone in the waiting room could see your pee. I definitely prefer the new white paper bag system.

It could be my lunch or some cookies or a bunch of peanuts.

Who is to know?

The pee guy is a bit of a talker as well. But the nice thing about his conversational style is that you can't get in a word edgewise. If he asks you a question, he'll even answer it for you. This requires very little effort on my part.

"Hey there, Mr. Benjermin!"

(I have noticed Ben-jer-min is a common pronunciation among Black folks in the area. Not sure if that is just a St. Louis thing or not. Perhaps I have a dialectologist follower who knows.)

I wave hello.

"How's it going, Mr. Benjermin!? Good? Good. Just gotta get your sample. Still taking the same meds? (I nod yes.) Okay, just need you to sign here. New Year's is coming up. Gotta be careful not to party too hard. You'll be regretting that. Though you don't look like a drinker to me. (I nod no.) Yeah, you're a good one. You keep it clean. Okay then, Mr. Benjermin. You're all set. Here is your new sample cup for next time."

He replaces my white paper bag with a new white paper bag and leaves the room without me saying a word. And I'm just realizing he asks me if I am a drinker quite a lot. He must sense my teetotaler spirit or something because he always assumes (correctly) that I don't drink. He's just really concerned about me partying too hard.

Finally the doctor comes in.

My doctor is kind, compassionate, and competent. The almost 3 Cs. But he's got a touch of what I call "Boomer-itis." He's on the progressive side of most things but there are a few ingrained sensibilities from that generation he didn't escape. It's mostly harmless. Though he said something sexist in front of a nurse practitioner student during my last visit that made her roll her eyes behind him.

He greets me and I tell him I'm not feeling well from the Mounjaro and that I am still recovering from my trip to Florida. He tells me that a lot of people can get sick for days from these new drugs, so getting sick for an hour or two isn't so bad. I agree, though I really wish I had not gotten sick at the exact time of this appointment. I keep eyeballing the trash can in the corner just in case things go sideways in my tummy.

He asks about my trip to Florida and I predicted that—as I already had photos ready to go on my phone. I scroll through them, showing off amazing cityscapes and mountainous clouds and an orange sunset over a lake—hoping to impress him with my photography skills to no avail. And then he sees Katrina. Now, I am not blind to her attractiveness, but I do sometimes forget how people respond when they see her next to me.

"Oh, wow. She's beautiful!" he exclaims.

I almost felt flattered on her behalf. But then his Boomer-itis starts to kick in. And he repeats, "Yeah, she's *really* beautiful. Just a friend, you said?" His facial expression and tone of voice are like, "You poor thing, you have been friendzone'd." And probably a touch of, "She's out of your league, buddy." I don't know exactly how to describe it, but it is this familiar look of pity and worry. This is usually followed up with a probing question trying to figure out what our "deal" is. Why is it so odd to that generation that a man and woman can earnestly be just friends and perfectly content with that arrangement?

It would be the easiest thing in the world to just say, "She's gay" and that she isn't "out of my league" as she plays an entirely different sport. (Competitive Subaru Ownership?) But my friendship with Katrina is not some consolation prize due to her queerness. I shouldn't have to explain or justify why I'm "just friends" or why I'm not "being led on."

In a worried tone, "So, umm, how'd you two meet?"

There it is.

"She is an artist. I posted some of her work on my website and it was very popular and helped people find her work. She messaged me to say thank you and we were instant friends. 10 years later she's my best friend and very much like family."

Thankfully his pity face evaporated and he finally saw how long-lasting and meaningful this friendship was. But it is a weirdly common obstacle I have noticed whenever people see a fat guy has a conventionally attractive friend.

Friends are great. Friends have been more supportive and beneficial to me than any romantic entanglement I've ever had.

All of my friends are hot and queer and that's awesome.

Note to self: Put that on a t-shirt.

Knowing how difficult it was, he congratulated me on surviving the trip and we wrapped up our appointment quickly. All I have left to do is check in with his assistant, get my prescriptions sent in, and make my next appointment. I can see the finish line, but my tummy is rumbling and I am making contingency plans for the Great Upchuck of 2023™. I'm clocking trashcans with plastic liners. I'm trying to remember where the nearest restroom is. And then I look down at the little white paper bag containing my urine sample cup and think, "Last resort."

Trinica (the competence ninja and my favorite person in the office) is processing my meds and searching the calendar for next month's visit. Shelly is keeping quiet and working on her computer. I start pacing back and forth. I'm not sure what I think that will do, but I think desperation is taking over at this point.

Shelly sees me and asks, "How's that whole disability situation going for you?" She is acting like my best friend now after cursing at me on the phone. I have a feeling she had an unpleasant conversation with my doctor after that episode because she isn't this sweet and nice to anyone.

I give her the update, "Everything is submitted. My lawyer is happy with all of the records we were able to find. It's just a waiting game now. It could be a couple of months but if I have to see a judge it could be over a year."

She commiserates with me about how slow the process can be.

Then, out of fucking nowhere, Mirror Froggie reappears in the little sliding reception window like a jumpscare in a horror movie.

Are you fucking kidding me with this guy?

"Hey Trinica, do you have a business card for the doctor? I want to recommend him to Doug."

Who the fuck is Doug? Are we supposed to know Doug? Is Doug the tongueless pussy-eating pirate who needs medical attention?

Trinica looks in her desk and is unable to find a spare card. So she stops processing my stuff and starts hunting around the office. She has a bad leg so she is slowly limping while searching every desk. I have never wanted to strangle anyone before, but my doppeldouche was really pushing his luck.

At this point I am just staring at the little trash can in the blood-draw room. I can feel the scrambled eggs reversing course through my digestive system.

Trinica finds a fucking card for fucking Doug and fucking Mirror Froggie finally fucks off to bother people that are not me.

Trinica gets me all sorted, I wish everyone a Merry Christmas, and make to the car.

I sit in the driver's seat, and with that unearned optimism, say to myself, "I made it."

For all of you who are squeamish about bodily fluids, you can just pretend this is where the story ends. Everything was fine. I made it home and was happy and comfortable and nothing gross happened. The nausea faded away and I lived happily ever after.

The End.

Thank you for reading this and have a lovely day.

Just scroll on by to the next post!

Okay, so you all probably thought I was foreshadowing a monumental barf.

But foreshadowing is typically subtle. You don't want to give away the ending. Of course this was going to end in barf. The barfing was inevitable. The barf was not what I was *actually* foreshadowing at all.

Did anyone catch what it was?

You know that discrete white paper bag?

The one that could be for peanuts or maybe a sammich and definitely not my urine sample cup?

The last resort?

Look, it's all I had.

I was not going to make it home. I was not going to make it back into the bathroom. No trash bins on the horizon. Nothing in my car.

At first it was just an itty bitty baby barf. A perfect amount to be contained in a flimsy paper bag. I felt a relief wash over me.

"That's all?" still being stupidly optimistic.

But then I made that noise.

That... pre-retch noise.

That one where your head kinda juts forward and your lips make a giant O shape and you make a very specific grunting sound. That sound where if another person hears it, they involuntarily make the same specific grunting sound.

This was when I had one of those movie moments when a character knows they are about to die and they can't do anything about it. And I made this exact face as I waited for the impending doom of a vomitous explosion.

The Great Upchuck of 2023™ commenced.

And it was... intense.

Everything inside my stomach transferred rapidly, furiously, projectile-ly into the bag of foreshadowing.

I mean, I'm pretty much convinced my stomach is a TARDIS because I do not remember ingesting that much food. This sheer volume of barf had to be coming from another dimensional plane.

I could see it staining the sides of the bag as it was clearly not meant for this. When I finished it was barely intact—soggy, if you will. When I was absolutely sure I had ralph'd to completion, my only option was to gently place it on the passenger's side floor (sans floor mats). All I needed was for it to last 5 more minutes on the trip home and then I could dispose of it and pretend this never happened.

Physically I felt such a relief. Sometimes there is this post-puke euphoria where you just feel, well... lighter. Unburdened with no longer having that feeling. Happy it is over with.

I place the key in the ignition and head for home. As I'm driving I can't help but stare at the bag. I can see it mocking me as it changes colors. The exterior was getting... damp. If this were someone else's vomit, I would have been vomiting because of it. Just... so gross.

I get home and park the car. I walk around to the passenger side to begin the extraction process. I pull the trash can close and I have to psych myself up to deal with this horrible hurling happenstance.

And this next part, well... it would be hilarious if it weren't so damned disgusting.

I stare at the bag.

The bag stares back at me.

I take a deep breath and approach the bag.

The bag grins at me.

I gingerly grasp the very tippy-top in an effort to not touch any of the offending material.

I slowly lift up the bag.

And the very instant it reaches just enough height to do the most damage...

The bottom falls out.

If the bag had broken just as I was picking it up, the carnage would have been minimal. Only a small area to clean up. But clearly this bag read the Wikipedia page on air burst nuclear weapons. It knew you get a much more devastating blast radius if you detonate from an elevated position.

A TARDIS worth of partially digested scrambled eggs just pour and splatter and spray onto the floor of my car. It looked like the bag was puking out my puke.

The bag is now dead but I can feel its ghost laughing at me.

I stand there frozen holding the top of this evil deceased white paper bag trying and failing to process what just happened.

I realize I have no idea what to do with this situation. This is something that would usually be followed with, "MOoooOOOoooommmmm! How do I clean up vomit?"

And she would say, "You'll never do it right. I'll clean it up."

And I'd pretend to be like, "Oh no, it's my mess. I could never let you do that for me."

And she'd insist and break out her endless supply of very specific cleaning potions and magics and soon it would be as if the vomit didn't even exist.

So, I guess my question is... do I have to get my car detailed now?

The Actual End.

#long post #the inevitable adventures of froggie #trigger warning #vomit mention #rape mention

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