#and medication could be really helpful for you

[amirasainz]

heyy,

Could i please request an F1 grid x driver reader where its a really hot race and the reader is struggling to keep racing put keeps pushing forward to finish it, and ends up completely exhausted and collapsing, and all the drivers start being really protective towards the reader and act like mother hens

Enjoy reading and send some requests!!!

-xoxo babygirl 💜

The Heat of Qatar

The Qatari Grand Prix was brutal. The desert heat seemed to radiate through every layer of the circuit, and the night race provided little relief. Despite the floodlights, the air felt heavy, humid, and unrelenting. For Y/N, just 18 years old and in her first season with Red Bull Racing, this was her toughest challenge yet. A bright young talent with nerves of steel, she’d handled every twist and turn of the track that day like a pro. But by the time she pulled into parc fermé, her body was at its limit.

As she climbed out of her RB, her legs trembled. She grabbed onto the side of the car for balance but barely had time to steady herself before her vision blurred. The cheers of the crowd and the hum of engines faded into the background as her knees buckled. She collapsed onto the asphalt.

---

“Y/N!” Charles sharp voice was the first to cut through the chaos. He was out of his Ferrari in seconds, sprinting toward her as she crumpled.

Carlos, who had been taking a swig of water, dropped his bottle and ran to help. “Y/N! Are you okay?!” His voice was tinged with panic.

Max jumped out of his car, cursing under his breath. “Bloody hell, what happened?” His piercing blue eyes scanned her pale, sweat-drenched face as he crouched beside her.

By now, nearly all the drivers had abandoned their debriefs to surround her. Lando and Oscar exchanged worried glances, already flagging down the medics, while Lewis and George pushed through the cluster to make sure she had space to breathe.

“Move, give her air!” Lewis ordered, his voice firm but calm.

---

The medics arrived quickly, but the drivers were relentless in their concern. “We’ll handle this,” Carlos said, almost shooing one of the medics away. “We’ve got it.”

Charles was already cradling Y/N’s head, his hand gently brushing her damp hair away from her face. “It’s okay, Y/N. You’re going to be fine,” he murmured, his voice soft as he tried to soothe her unconscious form.

Lando crouched beside them, looking at the medics. “What do we do? Is it dehydration? Heatstroke? What’s going on?”

Oscar, his normally calm demeanor cracking, added, “Should we get her more water? Electrolytes? Do you have an IV?”

“Let them work,” Max snapped, but his tone lacked its usual sharpness. He was kneeling next to Y/N, holding a water bottle and unscrewing the cap. “When she wakes up, she’s drinking this. No arguments.”

---

They carried her carefully to the medical center, with Carlos holding her legs and Charles supporting her upper body. Lewis draped his cooling towel over her forehead, muttering, “This will help with the heat.”

Once inside, the doctors began their evaluation, but the drivers were relentless. They hovered like a pack of mother hens, ignoring all instructions to leave.

“Honestly, we’re making sure she’s okay,” Carlos argued when one of the medics suggested they step outside. He was kneeling by her side, dabbing her neck with a fresh cold towel. “She’s part of this family.”

Max handed the water bottle to Y/N, who was slowly regaining consciousness. Her eyelids fluttered open, and she blinked at the concerned faces surrounding her.

“Max?” she croaked, her throat dry.

“Drink this,” he instructed, his tone softer than usual. He held the bottle up to her lips and coaxed her into taking small sips. “You scared the hell out of us.”

Charles exhaled a sigh of relief, his hand still in her hair. “You’re okay. Just rest. We’ve got you.”

“Y/N, don’t ever do that again,” Carlos said, his voice trembling slightly. He patted her shoulder and then her neck again with the towel, as if unable to stop himself.

Lewis, who had been standing back, approached with a blanket. “She’s sweating too much—her body might go into shock.” He draped the blanket over her with care, ensuring it didn’t overwhelm her.

“I feel… dizzy,” Y/N admitted, her voice barely a whisper.

Oscar, visibly distressed, turned to one of the medics. “What else can we do? What’s the protocol for this?”

“You’re doing everything right,” the medic assured him. “She needs fluids, rest, and time.”

---

The drivers took that to heart. Lando knelt down beside her, his brow furrowed. “Y/N, just focus on breathing, okay? Deep breaths. You’re tough. You’ve got this.”

Oscar added, “You’re the strongest person we know. This is just a bad moment.”

“Yeah,” Max interjected, trying to lighten the mood. “If you can survive working with Christian, you can survive this.”

That earned a faint smile from Y/N, which sent a wave of relief through the group.

Charles continued stroking her hair, his touch gentle. “If you need anything—anything at all—we’re here.”

Carlos, who hadn’t left her side, was now holding her hand. “You’ve been incredible today. The heat got to all of us. Don’t blame yourself.”

Lewis adjusted the blanket slightly. “Your body’s just telling you it needs a break. Listen to it.”

Y/N’s voice was barely audible, but she managed a quiet, “Thank you… all of you.”

---

They stayed with her for hours, refusing to leave until they were certain she was stable. Eventually, Christian Horner and the team staff arrived, but even then, the drivers lingered, their protectiveness unwavering.

As they filed out one by one, Max leaned down and whispered, “Next time, don’t push yourself this hard, okay snoepje? We need you out there—alive.”

Charles, the last to leave, pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Rest, Y/N. You’ve earned it.”

Though exhausted, Y/N felt a warmth that had nothing to do with the sweltering Qatari night. Her family on the grid had her back, no matter what.

[sientifiksiameez]

#The NCI had a really good piece on cancer centers addressing things like this #A lot of it falls under 'social determinants of health' (SDOH) which are generally looked at as social factors that affect care/wellbeing #Food/housing insecurity being major focuses for reasons like the above!!! #Iirc the practice began in an OH clinic but the staff started a food pantry that did not involve federal benefits #Stocked it themselves etc so fed benefit barriers didn't stop people from having food after chemo #The food pantry was by design no-questions + free to anyone (including staff + patient families) #The pantry was a success + paid for itself thru a growing community of volunteers after the first year and dozens more pantries were set up #Clinics nationwide are now following the example and reaching out to the innovator clinic #Same OH clinic also built a pro bono legal dept to help w housing + employment security #With rents controlled or fees waived or medical leave won: patients could focus entirely on their health and family #With the huge increase in treatment completion across at-risk populations this is also being adopted by other clinics nationally #It is worth mentioning that the clinics themselves are doing this - - often against advice of higher ups #This should not be the clinics' full weight to shoulder but it is powerful to see them able to treat the whole patient's health picture #If you are in a similar position: check if there are cancer resources available for legal or food support. #This is still an early adoption type thing over the last 3 or so years so it may not be available everywhere #But it is a practice designed precisely in response to people forced to decide between health and home #Treatment transports are also becoming very prevalent if transportation is a barrier!

(via @creepyscritches)

This is why "eat the rich" is not a violent statement. Rich people literally kill others for their own profits. Any violence against rich people who do this is self defense.

This is also one of the many reasons why there are zero good cops. The nicest cop in existence would arrest someone for stealing to survive but would not arrest these greedy employers for killing for profit.

[midnighthazee]

Greenridge ABO Series

Series Masterlist Masterlist

Warnings: explicit language, fear, mentions of past abuse/trauma, violence, abuse, mentions of blood, pet names, a lil smut... 18+ MDNI

WC: 5867

Chapter 11

Two days went by. Two long, agonizingly slow days. The Mansae pack had made it to the house within the hour and Changbin explained how chaotic their day had been. The Mansae members eagerly pitched in to help. Their pack medic Joshua and his assistant Seungkwan worked with Felix and Doctor Quinn in keeping an eye on you. They checked your vitals every hour, keeping you on an IV drip. They also took shifts at night to keep an eye on you around the clock.

Changbin and Seungmin went to check on Minho since there were so many people at home to protect you should the Nykos attack. Jeongin wouldn’t stray too far from you though. He even slept on the floor in the basement living room the first night.

  When Changbin and Seungmin arrived at the house, Minho growled and yanked at the chains when they entered.

“Minho?” Seungmin spoke cautiously.

“We really should have put some clothes on him before locking him up.” Chanbin noted.

Minho was still hard, his tip red and leaking.

Seungmin stepped forward carefully, looking into Minho’s eyes. They were golden and no longer red so that was a good sign. Changbin stood back, observing in case he needed to intervene.

“Please.” Minho rasped.

“Please what?” Seungmin asked, catching Minho’s rut scent.

“Touch me.” Minho hung his head, voice barely audible.

Seungmin stepped forward, caressing Minho’s cheek. Minho whimpered, leaning into his touch. He was covered in cum, so was the floor, and Seungmin felt bad. He clearly had been trying but to no avail.

“I’ll help you.” Seungmin whispered, kissing Minho as his hand dropped to Minho’s cock and stroked.

Minho bucked his hips, searching for more friction. Seungmin squeezed hard, pumping his hand faster. It was only a few minutes before Minho cried out, cum dribbling down Seungmin’s hand. Minho’s body shook as the orgasm washed over him. Finally, after hours, he began to soften. Apparently it wasn’t enough for him to do it, he needed someone else’s touch.

Seungmin littered his face and neck with kisses as Minho leaned into him. Changbin went and grabbed some pillows and a blanket from the other room, placing it next to Minho so he could rest. Then he cleaned him off while Seungmin went to wash his hands. Minho laid down, his wrists and ankles still chained to the wall.

“Should we unlock him?” Seungmin asked upon return.

“We’ll check on him when he wakes up.” Changbin assures, kissing Minho’s temple.

“I’m going to stay here until he wakes.” Seungmin said, sitting next to Minho and rubbing his back.

Changbin nodded, heading back to the house.

It took a few hours but eventually Minho woke up. 

“Seungmin? Wh-where’s y/n?”

“You don’t remember?”

“I remember waking up next to y/n this morning. I started my rut and told her to leave but she insisted on helping me.”

“She did!?” 

“Yes…You seriously think I took advantage of her?.” Minho glared, shaking his wrists to make the metal clink. 

That must be why I’m locked up, he thought.

“I don’t know. We thought the urges took over or something.” 

Seungmin shrugged, looked away. He was unsure how to break the news, knowing how Minho was - he was not going to take this well. Of course Minho could tell there was something he wasn’t saying.

“Spit it out Seungmin.” Minho demanded.

Seungmin sighed, “You went feral. That’s probably why you don’t remember. My guess is it was because of Lewis’s mark. ”

Minho clenched his jaw, staring at the far wall. “What did I do?”

Seungmin took a deep breath.

“You marked her.” He looked at his alpha, awaiting his reaction.

Minho swallowed, his fists clenched. “How bad is it?”

“Minho…”

“How…bad?” Minho growled.

“She sub-dropped.”

Minho took a deep breath. “I wanna see her.”

“I don’t think that’-”

“Tell her I’m not going to hurt her. That I’m chained-”

“She’s in the med room…we are waiting for her to wake up.” Seungmin spoke in a quiet voice.

Minho finally looked at him and Seungmin shivered under his intense gaze. 

“It’s not your fault-” Seungmin tried to say.

“It is. I did this.” Minho looked back at the ground. “You should go be with her.”

“I’m here to help you with your rut. She’s got plenty of people around her right now.”

“I don’t need help.” Minho stated.

“Minho…”

“Seungmin…I love you…but I demand you leave. Go.” Minho commanded with his alpha voice.

Seungmin stood, shoulders slumped, and with one last look, he left. He headed back to the house, finding Changbin. Changbin sighed upon hearing about Minho but told Seungmin to just give him space to process. Seungmin did bring Minho dinner after a little while but he said he didn’t want it.

The next day, Changbin had gone to bring him food. Minho was sitting there, staring off in space. Changbin could see a tent where the sheet covered his crotch but Minho ignored it. Changbin undid the chains, but Minho didn’t move. 

“You need to eat.” Changbin said after a few minutes of silence.

Minho just stared at the floor, catatonic.

“She’s doing better.” Changbin offered. “Her vitals are going up so that’s promising. We are still trying to find Chan but I swear it-”

“Chan is missing?” Minho finally spoke, looking to Changbin.

“Seungmin didn’t tell you?”

“No. Tell me what?”

“Chan didn’t come home yesterday. The Mansae pack is here to help us find them.”

“That’s what Seungmin meant when he said she’s got plenty of people around her.” Minho muttered.

“Yes. I swear it’s the Nykos but we have no proof. Two of Seungcheol’s people went to track their phones’ last location. Hopefully from there we can find them.”

“If it was the Nykos, go storm their house and get them back.” Minho deadpanned.

“If we do…and they aren’t there…” Changbin shook his head. “We can’t be reckless. You know this.”

Minho sighed. “I hate that I put this on you and Innie.”

“It’s not your fault. Plus, I think it’s good for Innie.”

“I knew I should have kicked her out of my room.” Minho shook his head.

“Minho…you would still be dealing with your rut. So you would still be here.” Changbin reminded him. “Eat please.”

Reluctantly, Minho ate his food and Changbin went back to the house. Seungmin would be there later and end up helping him a bit with his rut, Minho’s urges taking over.

Hoshi and Mingyu finally called, letting everyone know that they found their phones as well as the car flipped over in a ditch. They were further convinced of this being a kidnapping since one of the doors was ripped off. It was also unsettling to think they were hurt from the car accident. 

Jeongin was soothing Felix as he sobbed in his lap, this all being too much for the sensitive beta. Jeongin was doing his best to remain calm and collected, soothing Felix and learning from the older alphas and betas.

Nighttime finally came and everyone was getting some rest. Changbin was restless of course but sleeping. The Mansae pack was scattered around the house, sleeping on couches or piled with each other in the guest room. 

Jeongin, after finally getting Felix relaxed and sleeping, went to check on you. He was standing in the doorway, watching you carefully. You were sleeping peacefully, although your skin looked pale. Jeongin missed your smile, the sound of your voice, your laugh. He smiled at the memories, impatient for you to wake.

Thump…thump…thump…thump…th-

Jeongin hurried to your side, squeezing your wrist. No pulse.

“FELIX!” Jeongin yelled, starting CPR.

Felix popped up, confused. 

“FELIX!” Jeongin called again, waking a few others.

Felix sprinted into the room, Joshua shaking Seungkwan.

“What happened?” Felix questioned. 

“I don’t know. One minute she was fine. Then I heard her heart stop.” Jeongin explained.

“Push epi.” Joshua said.

Felix measured out the epi and fed it through your IV, Jeongin still giving CPR. Felix’s eyes were teary but he blinked them away. He had to be strong for you right now.

“Pulse check.” Joshua said.

Jeongin stopped as Joshua pressed two fingers under your jawline.

“She’s got a pulse.” 

They all breathed a sigh of relief.

“Ohh, thank god.” Felix said, dropping to the ground.

“Breath, Lixie.” Jeongin rushed to his side and rubbed his back as he cried. The stress was definitely getting to him.

“Her heart is weak right now. But it’s fighting.” Joshua informed.

“She’s strong. She’s a fighter.” Felix sniffled, standing up. “She made it out of that hellhole. She will survive this.” 

Joshua smiled sympathetically, nodding his head.

“You three rest, I’ll keep watch.” Seungkwan offered.

“I’m fine.” Felix said, holding onto your hand.

“Lix, you only slept an hour. And only four the night before” Jeongin held Felix’s other hand. 

“I’m not leaving her side again!” Felix nearly yelled. 

“Okay,” was all Jeongin said.

Jeongin stepped out of the med room, Joshua and Seungkwan too. They laid back down in their spots on the couch, Jeongin noticing Minho at the back door. He was inside, just standing there staring with a blank expression. Jeongin sniffed the air, not catching the scent of his rut. Was it over already?

Seeing Minho’s eyes look towards the med room, he wondered how much of that he heard.

“Go see her.” Jeongin whispered.

Minho looked at him, making him squirm under the harsh stare.

“I’m sure it would help if you go hold her hand or-” Jeongin stopped when Minho moved.

Minho walked around the couch opposite of the med room and headed upstairs without a word. Jeongin pouted. If he would go see you, it might help you recover, especially now that you’re bonded and he marked you. But Jeongin didn’t push. Instead he just tried to get some sleep.

It was the early hours of the night and everyone was asleep. Minho stood in the doorway of the med room, refusing to enter as he watched your slow breaths. He locked in on the faint heartbeat of yours, staring as Felix was cuddled into your side, finally sleeping. The bed was barely big enough for the both of you but he didn’t care. He needed to be close to you.

Minho looked behind him, seeing Jeongin asleep on the couch. He remembered what he said, and what he’d been taught of soulmates. Sighing, he stepped forward, coming to your side opposite of Felix. Seeing you like this made his heart ache. He had done this - he had nearly killed you. And you were still not out of the woods yet. 

Hesitantly, he reached his hand out to yours and took it. Your touch felt tingly on his skin as held your hand. Studying you, it sounded as if your heart beat was stronger. Counting, he realized it was elevated. Maybe being bonded does help. 

He held your hand for a while, not wanting to pull away. Nearly twenty minutes passed and he heard movement from the living room. He closed his eyes, leaning down and breathing your scent before whispering in your ear.

“I’m sorry.” He kissed your cheek and left, his hand slipping from yours.

It was the next morning when Doctor Quinn returned. She checked your vitals, Felix filling her in on what happened last night. It made her worry, but your vitals were in a healthy range and she felt optimistic of your recovery. Felix wouldn’t believe it till you were awake and talking though.

Minho was upstairs, cooking breakfast for everyone. Changbin insisted he rest but Minho ignored him. So Jeongin and Changbin pitched in to help him cook for everyone. Soon breakfast was ready, Felix refusing to leave your side. Seungmin brought him a plate down, kissed your temple and went upstairs to eat.

“We can’t keep sitting around. We need to go to the Nykos and get our boys back.” Minho said once everyone was done eating.

“We don’t know how many people are at their house right now. Their numbers are huge…like five times ours. We would have to bring everyone - I-land and Ahgase - and hope we have enough.” Seungcheol noted.

“Someone has to stay behind for y/n,” Seungmin added.

“Doctor Quinn can.” Minho said. 

“What if they bring a handful of people for y/n? Doctor Quinn can’t protect her from one alpha, let alone like two or three betas.” Seungmin pointed out.

Minho sighed. If they split their numbers to leave you guarded, they risk not having enough to rescue their members. Not that they had enough anyways if reinforcements were already in place. If they had your pack members, they probably had packs on guard ready to attack. 

“Even if we leave her with just Doctor Quinn, who says we would make it past the border. They would be expecting us and keep us off their lands. We could very much not even make it to the house.” Wonwoo said as if he read Minho’s thoughts.

“I just can’t stand them being there as long as they have. Who knows what shit Lewis is pulling right now.” Minho grumbled, running his fingers through his hair.

“What if we have Doctor Quinn take y/n away. Hide her somewhere while she recovers. She would be safe, and we better our odds on the front lines. We are just going to have to take the chance of guarded borders and large numbers.” Changbin suggested. “We can call I-land and Ahgase. Tell them to get here immediately and make our move tonight. That way our people don’t spend another night there.”

“I hate to play devil’s advocate…” It was Hoshi, raising his hand to intervene. “But what if they aren’t even at the house. Lewis could have taken them somewhere else.”

It was silent.

That was definitely an option, one they didn’t want to think about. If they made it to the house, and their people weren’t there…

“Then we torture him until he talks. Kill no one and only take prisoners. Someone will break and tell us where they are being held.” Minho states. “We move at dusk. I’ll call I-land and get them here. S.Coups, can you call Ahgase?”

“Of course.”

“Everyone, get some rest and fuel up. I need you at your best.” Minho says. 

Everyone nods and moves to get themselves fight ready for tonight.

Meanwhile in the basement, Felix was checking your vitals for the third time that hour. He was stressing to say the least, anxious your heart would stop again. You had been dressed in some of your clothes, the new mark cleaned carefully by Doctor Quinn.

As he took your blood pressure, reading the dial as he listened, you blinked your eyes open. Your brows furrowed at the harsh overhead lighting. You blinked rapidly as your eyes adjusted, turning your head slowly when you noticed someone next to you. A small moan escaped you, causing Felix to look at you. 

“You’re awake!” Felix practically fell on you. “Oh my god, you’re awake!

You groaned a little as he squeezed you, your lips turning up into a small smile.

“Oh, y/n! I was so worried. We all were!” Felix spoke with tears in his eyes.

You swallowed, trying to sit up.

“Easy. Take it easy. Let me get you some water.” Felix sprinted from the room, across the living room to the bar and grabbed a water bottle from the fridge. He was back within thirty seconds and placed it to your lips. He tipped it slowly, helping you drink.

“What happened?” you rasped, coughing.

He helped you with a few more sips. “What do you remember?”

You thought back. The last thing you remembered was waking up in Minho’s arms and he had started his rut. Your eyes got wide, worried about what happened during that time for you to end up in the med room with Felix crying. But Felix waited for you to speak, not forcing any memories.

“I remember Minho got his rut. And…I pushed him to let me help.”

Felix nodded. “That’s it?”

“I remember feeling this…blinding pain. Like nothing I had ever felt before. Not even with the Nykos.” You said that last sentence in a small voice, hating that something hurt you more than the Nykos.

“Minho marked you. He went feral upon seeing Lewis’s bite and his instincts went into overdrive.”

“But it didn’t hurt like that before.”

“It’s because he was overwriting the old one. Your old bond was being broken, a new one forming. Doctor Quinn was supposed to be here to observe when you were finally ready. You know, in case you sub-dropped… which you did.” Felix explained.

“Where is he? Where’s Minho? Is he okay?”

“He’s upstairs and he’s fine.”

“I should help him.” you moved to stand.

“Whoa, y/n.” Felix guided you back down. “Help him with what? His rut?”

You nodded.

“You’re in no condition for that. Plus he’s not rutting anymore.”

“What? How?”

“I don’t know. He stopped last night.” Felix shrugged.

“How long have I been out?” 

“Two days.” Felix whispered, stroking your cheek.

“Two days?!” You gasped. “Wait, he's done already?”

“Apparently. It's confusing for him too.” Felix shrugged. “But he said there have been reports of skipping a rut or one ending early during times of high stress.”

It was quiet for a few moments as you processed everything Felix told you. He tucked your hair behind your ear, smiling at you. 

“I’m sorry.” you whispered, looking at your hands as they fidgeted in your lap.

Felix took your hand in his. “Sorry for what, love?”

“Being a burden. We should be worrying about the Nykos…”

“No, no. Shhhh.” Felix squeezed your hand. “You are never a burden. We will always take care of you, no matter what. We love you. I love you.”

You meet his loving gaze, your own eyes watering. “You do?”

“Yes. I don’t care if it seems too soon. I know how I feel.” Felix says. He was always one to wear his heart on his sleeve.

“Felix, Minho wants to see - hey you’re awake!” 

You tensed at the foreign man coming into the med room. Felix felt you squeeze his hand and remembered you hadn’t met them yet.

“It’s okay. This is Joshua. He’s part of the Mansae pack. He’s a friend and he’s been helping me take care of you. Him and Seungkwan.”

You looked at him and he smiled at you. You looked down, avoiding eye contact with the alpha and whispering, “Thank you.” 

“Oh course. I’m glad to see you awake and talking.”

“I have to go see Minho. Will you be okay stay-” “Let me come.” you pleaded.

“Y/n…you need rest.”

“I’m okay. I’ve been resting. I wanna see Minho.”

Felix didn’t know how to tell you that Minho didn’t really want to see you right now. Instead, he was too busy beating himself up over it all.

“Y/n…” Joshua stepped forward. “You were…without a pulse for a while. Felix and Jeongin finally brought you back but your heart stopped again just last night. I’m happy, but a little surprised you’re awake so soon after that. And with such strong vitals…. I know it’s a lot to take in, but you really should rest your body. You don’t want to stress it too soon.”

You looked to Felix to see if what Joshua was saying was true but he was looking down at your intertwined fingers, gnawing his lower lip. It must be true and the thought made you whine. Truth is, Felix was happy Joshua told you, he didn’t have the heart to relive it by telling you himself.

“I’ll send the boys down, okay?” Felix forced a smile as he reassured you.

You just nodded, knowing he needed to go. 

Upstairs, Felix rushed over to the boys on the couch.

“She’s awake! Y/n’s talking and she’s awake!”

“Really?!” Jeongin popped up from the couch.

Felix nodded his head excitedly.

Changbin, Seungmin, and Jeongin rushed downstairs, racing and arguing about who’s getting the first hug.

Minho remained seated on the couch, not showing how relieved he was to hear this news. He couldn’t bear it if he had killed his soulmate - hell, their soulmate.

“Don’t say a word.” Minho warned them as they descended the stairs.

“Say a word about what?”

“I don’t want her to know about our mates. She doesn’t need the stress.”

“You’re going to lie to her?”

“No.”

“Lying by omission is still lying.”

“Doctor Quinn is going to take her somewhere private and secluded while we infiltrate the Nykos.” “I’ll go with her.”

“Felix. I need you fighting with us. We need everyone helping. We don’t know what we are walking into or how many people will be there.” Minho’s tone was serious and gave no room for protest.

Felix's shoulders dropped but he nodded.

“So I need you rested and ready. We leave at dusk. I-land and Ahgase will be here soon. Doctor Quinn too. We will leave and then she will take y/n away.”

“This is all happening so fast.” Felix stated.

“I know. But I can’t leave them at Lewis’s mercy another night.”

“Okay. I’ll be ready.” Felix said.

“Thank you.”

“You should go see her.” 

“Go eat.” Minho stood and walked off.

“Minho.” Felix stood and he stopped. “She’s okay. You don’t have to punish yourself. Go see her. She even asked about you.”

Minho looked back at Felix and, without a word, left towards his room. Once behind his door, he exhaled heavily, clutching his chest as he dropped to his knees. Silent tears fell from his eyes as relief washed over him. He sobbed for a few minutes before collecting himself and standing. 

He hadn’t been in his room since coming back from the rut house, too preoccupied with everything going on. And now, he’s seeing the messy state he left behind. Walking forward, he looked down at his unmade bed - the sheets blood stained. You bled on his sheets when he bit you, and now the sheets were a reminder.

Minho moved robotically, ripping the sheets from his bed. He rolled them up into a ball and took them out to the trash in the garage. Then he came up, finding new sheets in the hall linen closet. He made his bed and tidied up his room before going back to his action plans.

The boys had practically fallen down the stairs to get to you, scaring you briefly with all their commotion. 

“Y/n!” They exclaimed, about to attack you with a group hug. 

“Easy.” Joshua warned, but to no avail. 

You winced, the pressure of them hugging you made your shoulder hurt a bit. The mark was still sensitive, your tissue healing.

“Sorry.” Seungmin muttered, kissing your temple. 

Jeongin leaned in and kissed your forehead, Changbin kissing your cheek. He wanted to kiss your lips but nobody knew about the first time. (He also didn't want to do it in front of everyone).

“Are you hungry? Seungmin can make you some food.” Changbin offered.

You shook your head. 

“You need to eat. It's been like three days, darling.” Seungmin squeezes your hand. 

You pout but don't say anything.

“I'm gonna make your favorite, okay?” Seungmin says. 

You can't help but smile. He pecks your cheek and then hurries off upstairs. 

“Where are the others?” You ask.

“Um…they are working on the,uh…the Lewis problem.” Changbin says. 

You notice the way his smile seems tight. Like he's hiding something. But you don't get a chance to ask because Felix comes back and sits on the edge of the bed. 

“This one…has refused to leave your side.” Jeongin says, jabbing his thumb in Felix's direction. 

Felix smiles sheepishly. “I was worried.”

“We all were. But we still rested and ate.” Jeongin notes.

You smile at Felix, your heart warming at his undying love. All of them cared about you so much and you didn't know how to handle it. It was overwhelming but in the best way. 

After a few minutes of them cooing over you and helping you to the bathroom, Seungmin returned with food. 

“M'lady,” he said with a bow. 

You giggled, taking the plate. It smelled so good, your stomach growled loudly. The boys chuckled as you started eating. 

Joshua came back in, telling the boys that Minho was asking for them. They promised to be back quickly, leaving you alone to your thoughts. You kept eating, thinking about how you probably scared them all so bad. It looked like they hadn’t been sleeping much and that made you sad. 

Suddenly, you got a bright idea for a sleepover night. You would get pillows and blankets and set them up in the living room, demanding everyone huddle together for the night. That would probably be the best way to get everyone to have a good night’s rest. And that way you didn’t have to be alone with your nightmares just yet.

After eating, you attempted to stand. The IV was still in your arm, but you ripped it out, now knowing how to turn off the flow of it. You pushed the covers off and swung your legs over. Your body was stiff and you wanted to move around to get the blood flowing.

You slid off the bed, your feet dropping about a foot before hitting the cold tile. Your legs felt a little weak and wobbly but you managed all your weight on them. Carefully, you walked to the foot of the bed and found that it wasn’t hard - you didn’t even need to support yourself. You continued walking, upstairs to a living room crowded with foreign faces.

You froze, not sure what to do. The mix of smells was overwhelming. You looked into the kitchen and saw Minho at the island. Quickly, you walked over and hugged him from behind. He tenses.

“Are you okay?” you whisper.

Minho swallows. “I should be the one asking that.”

You let go and he finishes making his sandwich. 

“Minho…” you start.

“I gotta get some planning done.” Minho walked out of the kitchen and down the hall to Chan’s office.

You pout. He barely looked at you. And he seemed so distant. Your mark began to sting a little. He wasn't… rejecting you, was he? He hasn’t been this cold since your first day. Your cheeks flush red as you realize all the people probably witnessed that.

“He’s just processing.” One spoke up. “I’m Seungcheol.”

“Y/n.” you forced a smile.

“I think he blames himself for you… well… you almost dying.” 

The idea made your heart ache. Nothing about this was his fault. It was yours since you pushed him the other morning. Sighing, you go back downstairs. You stopped at the bottom of the stairs, not wanting to go back into that room. So you decided to go out back.

Outside, you inhaled deeply, enjoying the smells of the yard. The fresh crisp smell of the leaves and trees. It was a bit colder than you last remembered, making you hug yourself. You stepped forward, your barefeet in the grass. It was comforting - the freeness of being outside. 

You caught a whiff of unknown wolves as you heard chatter from above. It must be members of the other pack on the balcony. You went to go back in before you caught some of the conversation.

“I don’t know what condition we are going to find Chan in. I’m worried.” one of them said.

Find Chan?

“Lewis is probably doing a num-ber on him for taking the omega. And I can’t wait to put a hot poker through his eye.” spoke a second one with a grunt as he acted out the motion.

Lewis what?

“Tell me about… That bastard needs to be humbled.” the first spoke again.

Your legs move before you think, carrying you upstairs. You look around the living room, everyone stopping and looking your way. Some hushed voices whispered as you made your way down the hall to Chan’s office. Swinging the door open, you find it empty. You march back down the hall and upstairs.

“Y/n? What are you doing out of bed?” It was Jeongin.

“Where’s Chan?” you asked.

“Uh, he’s with-

“Lewis?” you interrupt.

Jeongin swallowed.

“H-how do you know that?”

“So it’s true.”

“Y/n…” 

“You weren’t going to tell me?” your voice was getting louder.

Jeongin pulled you into Felix’s room since it was the closest. It was the only bedroom without a neutral color scheme, a dark blue on the walls. It also had a cute window seat on the far wall.

“What are -,” Felix said, caught off guard by the intrusion.

“She knows.” Jeongin deadpanned.

“Knows?” Felix asks cautiously.

“That Chan is with Lewis.” you answer, crossing your arms.

Felix’s eyes go wide, sucking in a breath.

“What happened?” you ask.

They sat you down, explaining everything they knew.

“Let me come with you.”

“You just woke up from a two-day coma.” Felix states.

“I can fight.”

Jeongin laughs.

“It’s not funny. I’ve been training too. Please! I can’t sit here and do nothing when it’s my fault in the first place.”

“It’s not your fault.” Felix gives her a look.

“If I hadn’t veered off course and ended up in your yard, they would be prisoners right now.”

“If you hadn’t ended up in our yard, you would probably be dead. Or still suffering and not knowing you had actual soulmates.” Changbin stated from the doorway.

You all turned to see the beta with his arms crossed. He wasn’t wrong…

“Minho said Doctor Quinn was going to take you somewhere safe in case they try to come here for you.” Changbin explained.

“No.” You say, standing from Felix’s bed. 

“Sorry, babe.” Changbin shrugged.

“This isn’t fair.” “It’s for your protection.” Jeongin grabbed your hand. “Please let us keep you safe.”

You look into his pleading eyes. You didn’t know if it was his cute pout or he did some alpha influence thing, but you rolled your eyes. “Fine. I’m going to shower.”

You left their room, showered and dressed within an hour. It felt nice to freshen up and put clean clothes on. Then you went over to your nightstand, taking out a notepad and pen. You decided to write a note to Minho to leave on your bed. 

Sorry boys,

I can’t let anymore of you get hurt by Lewis. 

I Love You.

You glanced one last time at your room, not knowing whether you would ever make it back. You committed it to memory and closed your door. Then you casually made your way down to the basement. Most of the hybrids were congregated in the kitchen eating. You heard the doorbell and realized it was probably the other packs coming in. But you kept going. 

The few people in the basement were asleep. So you quietly snuck past them, opening the basement door and slipping out. You hurried across the lawn, checking to make sure there wasn’t anyone up on the balcony before doing so. Once the coast was clear, you darted into the trees and hurried off towards the Nykos. 

You didn’t know how far it was to their property, but you pushed on. At least you had shoes now and proper clothes, although you probably should’ve worn pants and a sweater, not shorts and a t-shirt. The sun was beginning to set, making the air feel colder.

You pushed on, hugging yourself to keep warm. The scent in the air started to smell more familiar, flashes of your nights running away from the brothers came to mind. You pushed them away and walked forward. 

It had been an hour and the sun was nearly set. You continued on, watching your step. You followed the scent, climbing up a hill at one point. Then you notice a worn path. Looking up, you see a tree with letters carved in it - your initials. You were here. You made it back to Nyko territory. 

Now you just had to make it into the house undetected and find the boys. They would probably be in the basement like you were. The hairs on your arms and neck stood up. It was eerie being back after all this time. The memories kept threatening to creep up on you, but you focused on your mates and happy memories.

Snap.

You jump, twirling around. No one was behind you. You swear you heard a branch. Cautiously, you keep walking. It was quiet for a minute until another snap. You turn again. But this time, everything goes dark. Your hands instinctively reach for your face - a bag covering it. Muscular arms grab you and lift you up.

You scream and thrash in an effort to get away but his grip doesn’t loosen. You hear the creak of the backdoor and know that you’re now in the house. You’re thrown to the ground, bag removed. You blink at the light as your eyes adjust. Looking at the man hovering over you, you don’t recognize him. He must be from an allied pack, hence why he was guarding the border.

“Boss will be out to see you.” he grumbled, his voice deep and crackly.

You look around and notice another man standing by the outside door. You were in the living room, the basement door off by the far wall. The lock on the door was open. Perfect.

You eye the men, watching as one paces the living room. The other stands guard, looking between you and his comrade. You slowly adjust your position on the floor, subtly getting yourself closer to the door. The one who carried you pulls out his phone. You look to the other and he’s looking outside. As quietly as you can, you rush to the basement door, swinging it open.

“Hey!” the men yell after you but you’re halfway down the stairs.

That god awful smell hits you, making your eyes water. You splash in the puddles as you hurry to look in the cells. They were empty. Not even the other omegas were in here. Panic sets in as you make your way to the torture room in the back. You hear the mens’ footsteps coming down the stairs.

Please don’t be in here. Please. You think as you round the corner.

The door was wide open and you were met with an unpleasant sight.

You gasped loudly, staring at the hanging body. It was naked and covered in open wounds from torture, completely mutilated. But it wasn’t Chan.

It was Lewis.

He was dead. Alpha Lewis was dead.

Your vision started to blur and you felt lightheaded. Your stomach churned at the sight, making you lean over and vomit on the floor.

The men groaned, carrying you back upstairs. They dumped you on the floor yet again and, this time, the room started to spin. You tried to focus your vision at the sound of footsteps, but you were only met with a pair of black boots and an unfamiliar voice.

“Hello, little sis.”

TAGLIST:

@estella-novella @lxvxchxrlxttxbxrsx22-blog @butterflydemons @readr1221 @gaby105-skz @notevenheretbh1 @bah2004 @sinfulfic @bowsnbang @just-a-blackthorn-cookie @dreamerwasfound @motheraiya55 @m00njinnie @writeuntilthebitterend @jutdwae-flower @staytinyluv @emmxxsworld @galaxy4489 @wolfo2027 @iknow-uknow-leeknow @thatgirlangelb @fr34k4c1dr41n

[ckret2]

I'd been meaning to do this since I found your account but today I read through the entirety of your Goldielocks fic (or at least, what's available) and all I can say is WOW !!!!!

You're really fucking good at writing these characters, capturing the lighthearted-yet-somehow-serious tone of the show, and the stuff you make up for worldbuilding fits right in with canon stuff. As a lover of making things canon-compliant and in-spirit-of-canon, this fic is like a dream come true. You're an amazing author !

I really look forward to your post-TBOB edits of the eclipse arc and the flatworld arc, I can already kind of guess where you're gonna go with it, but it's still exciting to think about what direction you might take things.

I'm also wondering, are you planning on changing anything about the Death Valley girls, what with the info we got about ciphertology and the like ? Or keeping them relatively the same ?

(I stayed up till almost midnight reading this - I'm so glad I don't have to be anywhere early tomorrow)

Thank you!! I've discussed my TBOB edits of the eclipse arc already, you can see some of them here if you want.

For the flatworld arc, I actually think basically nothing's going to change. Spoilers, but: Bill's world was never gonna be like Flatworld. It was gonna be a big reveal late in the fic ("big" for the characters, not the readers lmao) that Bill's world was actually pretty okay—like yeah, a few flaws, but not "barely-exaggerated satire of Victorian-era ableism/sexism/classism" flaws—and everything the kids read in Flatworld that made them pity Bill was 100% bullshit. It was going to turn out that Bill's world is actually...

... pretty much fucking exactly like Euclydia ended up being in canon—up to and including baby Bill getting medical trauma over having a super-rare cool-ass eye mutation that lets him see the stars of the third dimension.

I was gonna have Bill go "oh yeah, that's why I drove the author insane, I was that pissed at him for making my home world look that bad. I didn't correct you guys because I thought it'd be useful if you pitied me."

I did this because, before TBOB came out, I knew that no matter what I wrote about Bill's home dimension, probably a good 20% of readers would just push it to the side and automatically assume that his dimension was exactly the same as Flatland—like, occasionally readers were making comments about my fic talking about how triangles ***ARE*** oppressed in his home dimension like it was a canonical fact and taking it as a given that I was writing that. For that 20%, it seemed to me like the best way to ensure it got through to them that whoa, this isn't Flatland would be to have the characters assume his dimension is exactly the same as Flatland so that I could say, in story, "no that's totally wrong."

Post-TBOB, a lot fewer readers are gonna make that assumption. But having the characters assume his dimension is a lot worse than it really is is still a part of the story—it ties into the narrative of them slowly growing to expect him to be something more sympathetic/heroic than he actually is, a la Dipper's assumption that the Axolotl poem is a prophecy about how Bill will help save them—so there's no reason for me to take it out.

So yeah, tl;dr: Flatworld doesn't need to change because it was always going to be wrong.

I'm only gonna change the Death Valley girls a little bit. Everything I've currently written about them stays the same; except I'm also gonna mention that, yes, they are a Ciphertology sect, and yes, all the girls in the cult are Cipherwives.

So now I also get to crack jokes about Bill being both flattered and a little creeped out that even after he mostly ditched the cult they just kept inducting new recruits as "cipherwives" whether he showed up or not, like wow, you're just gonna marry him off in absentia to some lady he's never met??? What if he doesn't wanna marry her? What if he doesn't like her haircut?? Every time he shows up he finds out he's got a new wife! He loves the attention, but jeez, girls! At least send him a letter with his new bride's picture and wait for him to mail back an "OK" or something!

[spicedwatermel0n]

Young adult designs

Finally redesigned them!!! I wasn't really comfortable with keeping my late teen designs and young adult designs looking mostly the same aside from a few minor details so this is to fix that!! I've said I was gonna do this for a while lmfao... Anyways this look will span from 21 to 30 in which they undergo changes that I may not post rn? Adult and early teens are both sort of untouched designs. I have the looks in mind, but they're not really heavy on plot so... They haven't been drawn out. But I will post middle aged designs!! Now for obligatory "what are they like"

Nigel: looks pretty dead beat. He lost his arm in a mission for the KND some time ago. He's difficult to find, as he doesn't really... Live anywhere. If you need him, just wish for him. He'll probably arrive... Or not, because he's not a mind reader. He's starting to get into minor conflicts with the police. No one knows anything more about him, and that's probably his goal.

Hoagie: went cold turkey on EVERYTHING when he got his apartment. He's too busy fooling around with Wally or working to do anything bad to himself... He works a pretty rough 7-5 at a store where he does whatever they ask him to. Stock shelves, mop the floors, deal with customers... But it keeps a roof over his head, so he does it. He tends to wear a basic company uniform to work, that he absolutely DESPISES. Once he's home, he usually gets into something feminine. His job sometimes requires him to work extra hours or stay a bit longer to finish something. He holds internal anger for it, because he just wants to get home and smother Wally with love, but he does it because he DOES get paid for overtime. That's the least he could ask for, really.

Kuki: working a 9-5. She plans on getting to college to become a lawyer at some point. No one knows what exactly her job is. It's not her fault, she just doesn't care for it enough to remember. She got top surgery at 22 after working her ass off for the money she'd need. Don't tell anyone, but Hoagie helped a little. Also, she has her own apartment, too. It's really fancy and decked out, but she lives alone. She likes it that way. After years of living with her parents, she needs alone time all the time, unless she actively decides to invite someone over.

Wally: also went cold turkey on everything when he moved into the apartment. He's taking college classes at UVA to become a pediatrician. It's not quite Harvard, but it's damn near close. He's actually pretty dedicated to it. ADHD medication is the sole reason he can be so dedicated. He tends to wear somewhat feminine attire, as he's learning to understand that he doesn't have to conform to how society believes the genders should dress, and isn't any less of a boy just because he wants to wear feminine clothing.

Abby: going to an unknown college for her therapist degree. She doesn't tell anyone because she worries they may show up there to bother her, or something along those lines. She's often very busy studying, and if she isn't, she's doing volunteer work. She lives with her parents still. Chronically tired, just like, a little bit more than before. She has stopped caring about what she wears and just puts on whatever the hell works. She visits Kuki whenever she needs socialization or love.

Additional piece: the layout of Hoagie and Wally's apartment. This was for my own reference but I'd figure I'd post it

[threepandas]

Counting Down: 3 [<-Prev][]

My eyes were getting worse. There was nothing the healers could really do. Because, ultimately? There was nothing actually wrong, with my eyes. They were working exactly as nature intended. Exactly as my genetics designed. It was just... badly designed. Poorly suited, unfortunate perhaps, ill optimized in every way, for my environment.

If I had been living alone? Or in a sparsely populated, low growth environment? Subterraneanly? Well, THEN my eyes would have been perfect. Perhaps a bit on the over sensitive side, but otherwise perfect. I would have been a Sage. Elevated to Pathfinder, for my ability to safely lead my tribe through the dark.

But here? On Coruscant? Amongst the constant flow of billions? It is AGONY. A disability of the worst sort. Like two ice picks, slamming light and information into my brain. At the rate I am developing...

At... At the rate I am developing?

I may eventually be as good as BLIND. Be forced to wear a glorifed blindfold. And... and when THAT, inevitably fails? As it WILL fail? There have been... been somber, serious, terrifying talks? On if I wish to first try removing myself to a remote Temple for seclusion (and risk the lack of medical care that comes with it.) or if? O-or if?

Medically, it would be better to just... replace my eyes.

T-They can't even guarantee? That it would work. There are species that see through the Force. My problem may BE that I am somehow one of them and simply not physically built for it. That I developed the needed mutation. I... I could lose my eyes for NOTHING.

Yet...?

The headaches. The LIGHT. I can not take missions anymore. Can not even help in the Crèches. Their unfiltered, unshielded Force presences? Are like staring into search lights. I can not even help with Initiate classes, having grown too fucking sensitive! How will I EVER find a Padawan?!

I... I wanted one. Someone to guide and teach. Someone to watch grow.

Maybe that grief, (that I might never have one, that I KNOW he can do better,) is what makes me so short with Qui-gon. Obi-Wan is a youngling, damn it! Not a crutch for you mental health! Something which? Of course leads me to chasing Yan's Padawan down. REPEATEDLY. (Stop running! Boy! I KNOW YOU CAN SEE ME, QUI-GON! You better STOP RUNNING!! Listen to your Aunty while she SCOLDS YOU!) Because SOMEONE needs to beat that into the stubborn, heart sick, fool's head!

Why not me? I'm stuck on medical leave! Possibly FOREVER.

(Have a treat, Obi-Wan. You're too skinny.)

It's not productive. I KNOW it's not productive. The harder I push, the more Qui-gon digs his heels in. Yan's old Padawan was many things, but weak willed? Even in the depth of his grief? Hardly one of them. The whole LINEAGE was stubbornness made manifest. Literal STONES we more agreeable and subject to change.

I just wished Padawan Kenobi wasn't the one paying for it.

So, I helped. Without judgment. No harrasing him about his weight or his injuries, no demands he explain this or that. Just... there, if he's ready. If he trusts me. Bacta and pain relief, a safe place to sleep, someone to guide a peaceful meditation. And of course, Food. Ration bars by the basket. Take and hoard as many as you need. Here, both rich and mild foods to choose from.

Hugs and safety, I could do that. Be that. Put my emotions aside, for the sake of a child. Did his mere presence hurt? Yes. A LOT. But I would sooner die then let him know that. Bright and beautiful as his soul was, young and growing as he is? There is no pain, that is merely the confusion of crude matter. I am FINE. This... is FINE.

(Dispite the drugs, the meditation, it still HURTS.)

Neither Yan or Sifo like it. In fact, Yan is? Both in turns, heart sick and furious. His old Padawan entirely too good at dodging him. Dispite Yan being on the HIGH COUNCIL. Dispite BOTH Yan and Sifo, being on the High Council. It's genuinely impressive. Alarming, yes, that he uses such skill to avoid any attempts at therapy... but, well....

I've SEEN what the Mind Healers here consider a job "well done", with Sifo. Their definition of "help". So... granted, I understand completely. But he could just as easily take his Padawan on a "healing retreat"! Sneak away to get ACTUAL help from one of the other Sects! Illum perhaps? The Whills?

He KNOWS I'm right. It's why he's avoiding me.

(The little SHIT.)

Breathing in filtered, earth rich air, I tried to breathe out my stress. The Thousand Gardens do not just extend upwards. They went down as well. And they will continue to go upwards if ever another Temple is built upon the current one. Just like the last gardens, in which I sit, the light requiring plants that can be moved will be brought upwards. Those that can't? Get solar lamp systems.

Tiny biodomes, here in the dark. We do not kill our ancient trees, after all. Our plant and gardens. They are precious heirlooms. Living, breathing, friends. And besides? In the places they abandon, for the light up above? NEW gardens can be made! Subterranean ones. Glowing lichen and mushrooms, cave shrubs and parasitic low light trees.

It is peaceful, down here. Glowing plant life and distant lamps, like so many stars in the dark. The sound of running water and quite murmurs of the few who prefer such low light meditations. There are more then a few knights napping, having found gardens that speak to them. Their various light sensitive visual organs, finally having found relief.

Somewhere above me, Sifo is pacing. Erratic. Another vision of death and despair, of clones marching upon us all. It is getting to him. Like the slow eroding of a cliff face. Death by a thousand cuts. Over and over and OVER. Despair. Won't you do something? DESPAIR. Don't you CARE? DESPAIR. I can offer the power to FIX things. Don't you want it? Don't you WANT it~??

The Dark Side is a cruel and insidious thing. A riptide. An undertow, which drags you out to sea, then drowns you. It offers sweetness, safety, freedom. Only to deliver oblivion and pain. Power without control, it corrodes you. Destroys all that you were. Giving voice to your worst impulses, silencing your better nature.

You become a mockery of yourself.

I... I am scared for him. For Yan. I can see the outline of their ends, beginning to line up before them. They are pulling away. Growing frustrated. Their discussions with me are growing less philosophical difference with the Order, and more... dangerously immoral. Heretical. Nothing actionable, of course, but... I wouldn't expect their to be.

Both are High Councilors. They, of all people, know how to toe the line.

What do I DO? I ask the Force. Meditation after meditation, seeking guidance. How can I help them? And yet... I get no reply. No insight. Only nudges towards Obi-Wan. Towards teaching and compassion. Slipping him lessons on how to help slaves cope with the trauma. Philosophical debates on the doctrine of attachments. And, of course? Showing him my completely personal project, that HE will in no way someday need, of creating lesson plans for my hypothetical future Padawn.

How VERY thoughtful of him! To help me get some of those data pads! To help me research and revise my plans. He'll make a great mentor one day~ Amused? Me? No, no, dear. I was just thinking of a funny joke. Have ever given thought to Form Three?

Also! Never trust the Senate intelligence, dear. They are full of shit and couldn't spot a slaver if the sale was happening right in front of them. Do your own research whenever possible and NEVER rush in. NEVER.

(Yan refused to rush the assignment. Was in the Process of contacting the Armorer of Little Keldab for information. A Team was sent behind his back. On the word of the Senate alone. They almost completely DIED and the rightful Ruler of the Mandalorian people? Enslaved. Force knows where. Are you HAPPY now? Was rushing WORTH it? Your "regrets" mean NOTHING to the dead.)

It's building. I can feel it. The darkness is growing, my friends drifting farther and farther from the light. All, while? I am stuck. Disabled by my eyes. By the pain my so call "blessing" gives me.

Giving up on another useless meditation, I rise. Head for the lifts. The hallways down here are... quite. The old temple towers a peace place. Filled with the ancient echos of long dead Masters. There are room down here. Apartments. They are unassigned, yes, but no one truely cares if they are used. Granted, I would have to dust them myself.

I consider it. The light, (or really, the lack there off) is much more comfortable down here. The quite, less stressful. If Sifo didn't have such traumatic associations with darkness? I would honestly suggest moving down here with me. It might do us both some good.

As the lift rises, I tap the side of my lenses. Momentarily blinding myself in preparation for the increasing light. Soon enough, vision returns. The cacophonous press of noise. Oh dear, it's mid-meal. I should have waited. No wonder it's so loud and bright. Gritting my teeth, I keep my expression calm and pleasant. My shoulders relaxed.

It is not the younglings fault, that it hurts to be near them. They should NOT have to carry that guilt nor knowledge. I walk calmly but swiftly. This is fine. This Is Fine. Ow, ow, ow, OW, OW! This Is Fine!

Relief. I get passed them. The healers are right. Damn it. It really IS not just my eyes that are growing more sensitive. I... I so badly wanted them to be wrong. But as days go by? As weeks pass? Everything has slowly gotten... gotten so LOUD. Sharp and shrill, grating and rumbling, barks and squeals. Just? Just ALL of it. Too much.

Loud.

At the rate i'm going? I'm going to end up in a Force damned helmet like some sort of Mandalorian! And... and yes, I know there is no shame in that. That each race has their own specific needs. That it is humanist to think certain traits are somehow BETTER then others. I just... just feel like I am slowly losing myself. My freedom.

I am scared.

My body feels like it's betraying me.

Somewhere, near the High Council's chambers, I can feel Yan seething. How long has it been? Since the three of us coexisted in simple peace? Before Sifo's accident? Their appointments to the Council? Or was it as recent as Xanatos and the disaster of his Fall? How... How long have I been a pillar? For the mental and spiritual strength of others?

It's grinding me to dust. I'm so tired. Just... just want to rest. For just a moment. Without the fear, that my moments weakness? Will condemn a good man. Will irreversibly harm, a growing child. I.. Force, I am so tired.

Sifo is waiting for me, in my apartments. My plan for a moments rest? A fleeting, impossible, dream. He is pacing, pacing, pacing. Lines of tension and darting eyes. Hands clenching and unclenching. Running through his already ruined hairdo, again and again. It was easy to see what someone might think him mad. He certainly looked it.

"I saw them again. Bastards! I don't-! What am I doing wrong?!" He gasped the second he laid eyes on me. Already ranting before the door even closed. "I vow not to step foot on Kamino? They still appear. Avoid Mandalorians? Still! They exsist! But, oh! What if I plan Temple defenses? Surely THEN, right?! No! They somehow get passed them! Is it me? Am I the problem!?"

"TELL ME!"

He spun, eyes wide and manic, arms spread. As though inviting a blow. Inviting his own destruction. Hair falling from his careful hairdo in mad whisps, clothes disheveled, hands faintly trembling... he did not look well. Looked near tears. Teetering on the edge of something ugly.

How long could he hold out? I wondered.

I didn't have a comforting answer for him. No sweet and gentle words. But I could offer a hug. A hand to hold, as he faced down the dark. Sometimes... sometimes there WAS no right answer, Sifo. Sometimes the pieces were all on the board yet. Or the very act of try to stop Fate, made it so. I don't know. Can't know. Neither of us can.

But I can be there WITH you, until the end. And we can do our best.

Have you eaten yet? Had any tea? When was the last time you slept? Terrible things do not become easier to bear, if you burn yourself up, trying to face them. You have to take care of yourself too. I stepped forward, into that desperate stance, and pulled him into my arms.

"You believe me. You BELIEVE me. It's just inevitabe, too you, isnt it? That's what your trying not to say, isn't it? That you've run out of options. " Sifo's arms wrapped around me in a desperate grip. Like a drowning man holding onto the only life raft at sea.

"You're just afraid. Don't want me to break myself, destroy myself, chasing something that can't happen. Because we're Jedi, and you know we have to try. Try and try and TRY! Until it destroys us. Destroys everything. Hoping against all hope that they'll just... just LISTEN! But they WON'T, will they? They won't listen. It's inevitable. A cleansing. Purging of the old, to give rise to something new. The will of the Force itself."

Cleansing? Purging?! Alarm bells started to ring in my head. Nothing good came of talks of "cleansings" or "purgings" of ANYTHING.. NOTHING. I opened my mouth to refute him. Never got the chance. Yan's Force presence slammed into ours. The equivalent of crashing open doors and stomping feet.

Startled and alarmed, I turned just in time to see him sweep into my apartment like a raging, high society, storm cloud. The expression on his face could peel paint.

"Apparently," he snarled, barely holding together. "my Grand-Padawan has SUPPOSEDLY left the Order! Despite showing no prior interest in doing so, sending no missives to friends or fellow Creche-mates, and? Of course? Let us not forget? SUPPOSEDLY doing so? For some TART in the midst of an ACTIVE WARZONE!"

Horrified, I felt the blood drain from my face. No. NO! I thought I had more TIME! Please! Dear FORCE! Tell me, Qui-gon did not LEAVE his Padawan on-!

"Oh yes! CLEARLY, this is but a childish desire to wet his-!" Yan visibly struggled to beat back the surge of incoherent WRATH and fear. The disappointment. They HORROR at a child, in such unimaginable danger. "The Council won't even HEAR that there could be anything amiss! Won't even CHECK. A supposed WASTE of RESOURCES, when already we are stretched too thin! A CHILD, potentially ABANDONED in a WARZONE! And they-!? THEY-!?"

My mind races as I pull away from Sifo's grip to face Yan. The Order won't authorize use of their ships to go check. But... But? Are we not Jedi? We serve the Force. Our mission is to PROTECT. Minimize suffering, bring Light to the universe. Take a sabbatical! NOW! In fact? We ALL will. It will be GOOD for me, to be away from Coruscant's crowded population.

Call your Family, Yan. We need a Serranian Ship. Ask if we can borrow the Senator's, since it's on planet. We aren't slaves. They can't stop us, if we simple decide to GO. Punish us? Perhaps. But not STOP us.

An almost roguish grin settles poorly, under the near manic glint in Yan's eyes. Too expressive. Too unhinged. He has never been anything but composed, he values it too highly. Sifo's answering grin is just as manic. Just as... slightly wrong. Too much. Fitting both too practiced and ill fitting on their faces.

Like they are feeding off each others madness... some part of me hisses in concern. A feedback loop, we aren't strong enough to stop.

I try to ignore it. Focus on the now. There is a child in danger. It's... it's fine. Probably. All I have to do, is keep them away from the Sith! They... they won't Fall. They WON'T.

R-Right?

Yet... watching them plan our trip? Calling in favors and gleefully plotting. Casually threatening. Feeding of each others energy, as they do. I... I am not so certain. Once again, that moment of dissonance strikes true. Like looking around and realizing I am an actor on the stage of a Tragedy, ready line after line, as we march onward to the inevitable End.

Attachments are going to condemn you. Seems to whisper the Force. Like chains that choke and squeeze.

I know, I whisper back. But I am foolish and still want to save them.

Please let me try.

Please.

Let me TRY.

[cripplecharacters]

Hello, I'm writing a novel and I'm curious if you have any resources or mods that could answer on the topic of full term pregnancy for characters with physical and mental disabilities? The character I'm writing is an amputee (both legs lost to sepsis) who struggles with psychosis/BPD and takes plethora of medications.

Would she have to go cold turkey to carry to term? Would the pregnancy have any negative effect on her physical disability? Just want to get my facts gathered before I start writing something I'm entirely unfamiliar with

Hi asker,

Some medicines are never safe during pregnancy because they have a proven high risk of miscarriage or serious risk to the developing baby.

But many more medicines are taken during pregnancy even if they can carry risk to the pregnant person or the baby. That's because they help the person using them so much, that the risk of not taking them is higher. They may modify doses or monitor themselves or the baby more often. So no, she does not necessarily have to go cold turkey to carry to term.

Some sources for more information:

Medicine and Pregnancy: an Overview by the CDC (US site)

Medicines During Pregancy on MyAlberta (Canada site)

You specifically mention psychosis, so maybe your character takes antipsychotics. There has been a lot of fear that antipsychotics can cause birth defects/abnormalities or miscarriages, but more recently many people are encouraged to stay on them while pregnant.

I haven't read fully through these, but they should be informative:

Use of Antipsychotic Drugs During Pregnancy on NIH (US site)

Antipsychotics in Pregnancy and Breastfeeding on RC Psych (UK site)

Antipsychotic Use in Pregnancy on NIH (US site).

There is no BPD-specific medication, so I can't really specify anything else. Some amputees take medications, and some don't, so I can't specify there either. If you know what your character takes, you can google their specific medication types + pregnancy. People get pregnant all the time, so this is not an uncommon avenue of thought.

Either way, this varies depending on what your character specifically takes. But ultimately, there is no absolute requirement that she must go cold turkey to carry to term.

Hope this helps,

mod sparrow

Hi!

One issue she could experience as an amputee is related to prosthesis fitting - I'll assume that she uses them since you didn't mention her being a wheelchair user. During pregnancy she'd probably gain weight, which might mean she will need to visit her prosthetist to make sure it's comfortable for her to walk in. She might also experience more swelling in her residual limbs, which basically means the same thing - depending on how much changes her body goes through, she might have to make a few trips. This is especially true if she's an above the knee amputee rather than below.

Amputee Coalition has a page on pregnancy that you can check out, with some possible timelines that are currently recommended (especially helpful since it sounds like your story is set in modern times).

Hope this helps!

mod Sasza

Hello! I'm someone with diagnosed schizoaffective disorder in remission and BPD keeps getting thrown at as a possibility for a diagnosis for me, and medication for BPD can range from nothing to a combination of antidepressants and antipsychotics, antipsychotics being front line for any psychotic symptoms or disorder. I have had doctors plan with me as the antipsychotic I am on (vraylar) is unsafe for pregnancy however olanzapine is often considered safer. Generally for someone on heavy-duty medication there is a safer drug in the same class their doctor switches them to and closely monitors their progress and health from pregnancy to breastfeeding.

-Mod Bert

[crazyvik97rpg]

Honestly, being so anxious and stressed himself lately, Sebastian unfortunately had no idea that William really had a tough time as well, overall, lately - basically neglecting himself too. Sebastian had no idea, while his parents were visiting, while they chatted and laughed over coffee, while his mom brought him the newest gossip from some of her clients and their own family. It was a pleasant Sunday full of little distractions for him and the nurses were happy with his vitals. Everything was alright.

He sent William a text in the evening, telling him about his parents' visit, how nice that had been and how much he was looking forward to tomorrow. To finally leave this dreadful hospital bed. And William never showed his true feelings - never let Sebastian see how exhausted he himself was.

Monday morning came and Sebastian eagerly awaited Dr Cole's visit, to clear him and basically sign the papers for his discharge. She once again checked his vitals, checked the surgery wound and had a nurse apply new bandages, have it all neat and clean. Along with that, Sebastian got prescribed some medicine - pain medication, to take if he needed, bandages and some equipment to clean the wound and apply new bandages himself, also a doctor's note for work and an absolute sports-ban for the next 2 months or so. Sebastian wasn't exactly happy about that but...he had to take it.

He got a bunch of documents, where all that information was listed in detail as well as dates for some follow-up appointments that would be in some weeks. Once all the paperwork was done, Sebastian only had to get dressed now. He had some sweatpants with him, socks, his usual sneakers. Since he would be alone at home most of the time of his sick leave, he already practiced getting dressed alone, which was only a bit difficult now because his arm was still a little impaired. Other than that, he could do everything just fine. Except maybe tie his shoes, but a nurse helped him there. Next thing he did, was text William.

'Love, I'm basically ready to go now. Still in my room. Where are you? I can walk down to the entrance, if you want'.

God, he was so excited. He'd finally be going home.

For I have sinned...

The principal cleared his throat, eyes scanning the notes that he had wrote down before this meeting. It already lasted an hour, and the teachers gathered in the faculty room were becoming restless and bored. But indeed there were some things to discuss, with the concert that the senior class was supposed to perform at the end of the semester, and with recent staff changes. 

William glanced down at his watch, sighing softly. His class was starting in 15 minutes, so at least, whether the meeting will be done soon or not, he will get to excuse himself. He looked out of the window, his mind wandering. Principal’s voice turned into white noise in the background. It was a pleasant day, late summer. But William was looking forward to a slightly cooler weather. Wearing all black could really be bothersome at times. 

“And lastly, I am pleased to announce that we have finally found replacement for the violin teacher. Dear Mr Tanaka, may he rest in peace, was with us for so many years that I’ve been concerned we won’t be able to find someone as good as to fill this position.” the principal spoke. “But Mr… Michaelis, was highly recommended to me, and he indeed has impressive references. He will be starting this week, so please welcome him warmly once he will arrive. Ah yes… about that. He will arrive today at noon, I need someone to pick him up from the train station and bring over for the tour around the school. Any volunteers?” 

William was barely listening, and definitely not paying much attention. He glanced at his watch again, and saw that it was time to leave, as his class was about to start. He raised his hand to excuse himself, and little did he know, he just volunteered.

“Father William! Excellent!” the principal exclaimed. “Just don’t be late, the train arrives at noon.”

“Train…?” William questioned, raising his brow. He had a feeling he was missing something…

***

Right after the meeting, William had to run for the class, so he had little time to clarify what exactly he had volunteered for. He was a piano teacher in this Music Academy, but also he served as a priest in local church. Well respected, and rather liked. So when he later found out it was about the new violin teacher, he didn’t refuse. Who, other than himself, would be a better choice to introduce a newcome to their community?

So even though he raised his hand by accident, he accepted this fate.

After classes, at noon, William took a taxi and drove to the train station, to pick up their new teacher. Wearing black trousers, and a black shirt with a thin tie, was absolutely dreadful in this weather, so William quickly found shelter under the roof of the station platform, that provided some shade.

The train had just arrived. William had no idea how Mr Michaelis looked like, but he figured he will just look for someone carrying a violin case with them. 

He was in for a bit surprise.

@crazyvik97

[justmeinadaze]

Not Alone Part 2 (Medication)(Eddie X You)

A/N: This is what I mentioned writing the other night and is a part to this ask here.

I want to say that I have had so many experiences with medications since I was diagnosed with my mental health issues in 2016. I had watched it help people like myself after so many trials and errors and I've watched it hurt people to their core. I've been physically hurt to the point where I was vomiting and curled up on the bathroom floor. I've had pills that messed with my brain chemistry to the point a friend found me sobbing on the floor terrified I was going to die. All that fun stuff and to be honest the worst part was no feeling heard.

I would tell doctors how much pain I was in and they would tell me it was normal. After a couple of days I would tell them something wasn't right and I was told to give it more time. It wasn't until 2019 I finally found a doctor who worked with me and realized that my brain and stomach are extremely sensitive to meds and we have to start on the lowest doses first before moving up. Ive been on my current set of pills since then and it's changed my life.

Of course, mental health meds don't fix everything and I was suggested a vitamin that help with calming your mind. Yesterday, I took and what the reader feels about her quiet mind is how I felt. I didn't know what to do with myself. Honestly, I just wanted to be held and told everything is ok.

But yeah, my advise to you is trust your gut. If you want to take medication and notice somethings off voice your concern. If you don't like what a drug does or how it affects you, say something. DO NOT let a doctor walk all over you. If I've learned anything over the last few years, it's that all doctors are human and like humans...they make mistakes and can be assholes.

Warnings: Mentions of mental health concerns, details on medication symptoms (tummy ache, vomiting, change in personality, quiet mind), feels of "being a bother" More then anything this is Eddie taking care of you and him making sure you're ok. Mr. White Knight <3.

Word Count: 1579

“Ok and what should we be on the lookout for?”, Eddie asks as his hand remains intertwined with yours. 

The doctor you had just met at the insistence of your family heavily exhaled as your boyfriend asked him another question that seemed to annoy him. 

“Look, Mr. Munson, she’s going to be fine. This medication helps so many people to be relaxed and quiet their mind. At most, she’ll be so relaxed that you both will get a good night’s sleep. Now, I do have other patients waiting.”

As he begins to walk the door, the metalhead starts to follow before you grab his elbow and pull him back. 

“Stop it, freak.”, you tease as he tosses you a smile back. 

“Hey, I just want to know that you’re safe. I don’t like seeing you in pain or anything. I know your depression tells you no one cares but I do.”

Beaming up at him, you pull his lips to yours as he wraps his arms around you to hug you to his chest. 

***

“Y/N? How are you feeling so far, baby?”

It had been about an hour since you took the antidepressant the doctor recommended and Eddie noticed within 5 minutes of taking it your entire body language changed. You seemed…heavier…as if there was a weight baring down on you and folding your frame. 

His careful eyes followed you around the trailer as you silently grabbed a water bottle and sat cross legged on the couch to watch tv. The thing was…he could tell in your eyes that you weren’t really paying attention. You seemed to be looking through the tv instead of comprehending anything going on. 

“I’m…I’m ok.”

“Can you give me more than that, please?”, Eddie asked as he sat down beside you.

“I’m…calm. I don’t feel anything really. Like…I’m relaxed but…I kind of just want to curl up into a ball.”, you mumble raising another red flag in his brain. 

“Why is that do you think?”

“It’s going to sound dumb.”, you sigh as you hang your head. 

“Hey.”, he coos as his fingers lift your chin. “Nothing you say is dumb to me. I’m a freak remember?”

Eddie smirks at the sound of your laugh but even that sounds out of place. This particular metalhead was never a fan of medication. He believed it worked and helped people but in his experience it made things worse. His uncle once tried to put him on ADHD medication when he was a boy and promptly took him off it when he noticed his nephew’s personality completely change. In later years, weed helped calm him down along with his music and creating a campaign for Hellfire. 

You had told him once, you struggled with finding your purpose. Your family made you believe that paying bills and working a desk job is normal. It’s the only thing in realty that was attainable.

With him, he showed you a new world that you absolutely loved and encouraged you to try new things like writing or learning an instrument for yourself. Since you had started seeing him, you felt like someone cared and put you first, constantly making you feel wanted and seen. 

Throughout your time together, he watched a personality unfold that made him fall more in love with you every day and truth be told he was terrified that medication would strip that away but if it could help you be happy and achieve your dreams than he was open to the idea.  

“My mind…has never been quiet. As far as I can remember something’s been…buzzing around in there, you know? This…this scares me…I don’t know…what to do with the silence.”

Eddie’s heart cracks listening to your explanation as he pets your head and kisses your temple. 

“Well, sweetheart, things will never be silent with me as your boyfriend.”

Giggling, you crawl into his lap and melt into his embrace as he softly plays with your hair.

***

Three hours later the energy changed as you felt a pain in your stomach you had never felt before. Rushing to the bathroom, you threw up over and over again as Eddie held your hair back. 

“Everything’s ok, baby.”, he whispered before turning his attention to the phone next to his ear. “No, I don’t fucking care that he’s not there! Then give me another fucking doctor to talk to. My girlfriend hasn’t stopped throwing up in the last thirty minutes. I refuse to believe that’s fucking normal!”

“Look, sir, there’s nothing we can do about it over the phone and like I said with mental health medication, it is common for it to cause the symptoms she’s experiencing. After a while, they will go away.”

“What is ‘a while’?”

“Usually after 2 weeks, your body gets used to the—”

“Oh, hell no! You’re saying she’s going to be in this much pain for that long?! What about her job, her life, her fucking sanity!? Aren’t these pills supposed to help with the depression!? How does that help!?”

“Eddie…”, you cry as you try to reach for his arm to calm him down. 

“Listen, we have an opening for you to see her doctor tomorrow morning. Bring her in and we can take a look.”

“Yeah we’ll do that.”, he sasses before hanging up the phone. “Here, sweetheart. Drink some of this water and then we’ll go lay down ok?”

“I’m sorry.”, you sob causing him to grab a tissue to wipe your eyes. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for—”

“I’m causing problems. I’m making things difficult for you—”

“No, baby, No. Listen to me, Y/N. The only thing that’s difficult for me is watching you hurt like this. I knew that fucker wasn’t taking you seriously. I swear to God when we get in there tomorrow—”

“Please…I just wanna lay down.”

Nodding, Eddie careful lifts you and lays you in his bed, bringing the covers up over your frame. After placing a trashcan by the bed and the water on his nightstand, he crawls in behind you and pulls you into his arms, gently kissing your shoulder as he listens to your breath. 

***

“Alright, Miss Y/L/N, now I heard you were having some symptoms in regard to the medication and—”

“She’s not taking that bullshit anymore. Check her over and make sure she’s not dehydrated or needs a hospital and then you can fuck off.”, Eddie growled from his place in front of you like the protector he was. 

“Listen there’s no need for—”

“There’s a huge fucking need. She came to you for help and you just toss any drug at her without really speaking to her about her history?! You didn’t properly warn her about the side effects. Trust me, the most that happened wasn’t ‘a good night’s sleep’. She threw up half the fucking night and sobbed in arms. Do you know what that’s like?! Having someone you love being in pain and feel so fucking helpless?!”

The doctor cleared his throat as he sighed. 

“She said it calmed her mind but to an extent she didn’t know how to handle. You don’t just thrust someone into that. You have to ease them in so they don’t get overwhelmed. You should know that…or did years in medical school strip you have your humanity and common fucking sense?”

“Let, um, let me look her over here.”

Eddie’s intense eyes watched the doctor as he checked you out and you confirmed you felt better since you didn’t take the pill again for day 2. 

“She seems fine and one day on the drug won’t hurt her mentally. I recommend a day to rest and then she’ll be as she was.”

The metalhead, seemingly satisfied with his answer, took you in his arms and gently placed you on the tile. 

“I’m not trying to be a dick, doctor. She’s been through so much already and all by herself. Lord knows I’m not perfect but if I can help her I will. You dropped the ball here, sir, and I hope you don’t again.”

***

“Thank you.”, you murmur as your arms wrap tighter around him while you both lay in bed listening to the music and the rain outside. “For standing up for me. My family and doctors always treat me like I’m being overdramatic.”

“No, baby, you’re not. You deserve to be heard. My mom’s medication used to make her sick all the time and she would brush it off saying it was part of the process. I know they helped her with her pain but…”

“Will you help me look into maybe some alternatives? Something that can help me without changing or hurting me? Or maybe we can find a doctor that will work with me…”

“Of course, sweetheart.”, he coos as he kisses your forehead. “You’re not an inconvenience or a problem by the way. You say that a lot when you’re low. I really do like helping you and or taking care of you. You’ve always been there for me and I see how you are with other people including some that don’t deserve your kindness. You deserve to have someone help you take the reins from time to time.”

“What did I do to deserve you, Eddie Munson?”, you smile up at him. 

His chest vibrates as he laughs and grins down at you. 

“I don’t know. Probably some voodoo chant or dance or something.” 

##########

Eddie Asks

[dollcherray]

ㅤㅤ౨ৎ LETS DROP THE BEAT ⟡ ݁₊ .

₊⊹ TF2 MERCS WITH LUCIO READER

౨ৎ Pst! Cherry says: hello, it's been a while, i've been feeling better these days, but to refrain from feeling burn out again, I'll keep the requests closed and write some fanfics to cope for some time, hope this is okay<3 this was inspired by @papil0nglegs , make sure to check out some of their work 🫶🏼 (little bonus at the end)

｡𖦹° Type: Romantic/platonic, fluff, headcanons, reader isn't necessarily male, just has the same abilities as Lucio but can be seen as any gender u want <3

✧₊⁺ Characters: Scout, Medic and Spy.

♡ Song: PUNK TACTICS

⟡ ݁₊ . SCOUT

౨ৎ He's very normal about you. (he's not)

౨ৎ When Scout first met you, he was already really into your style and personality itself, finally someone who could keep up with his electric self! you two were inseparable at the moment you were put together.

౨ৎ Not only Scout likes your personality as a whole, he enjoys your way of battling, he finds it fun and its refreshing to hear some other noise other than the constant screaming and chaos of the battlefield.

౨ৎ Everytime he needs healing now he'll go to you for help, Medic also thanks you almost everyday from saving him from hearing "DOC!!" in that damn boston accent everyday, all day.

౨ৎ Is amazed by your social skills and how quick you are to befriend (almost) everyone in the team, Scout himself is a social guy but you just beat him easily.

౨ৎ So he matches your energy SO MUCH, everytime you go: "Lets do this team" or something of the genre, Scout always go: "HELL YEAH!!! U KNOW!" he loves when u do that.

౨ৎ Sometimes y'all race in the middle of the battle just for the fun of it, sometimes you win, sometimes he wins, but its always fun for both of you either way.

౨ৎ "Can't stop, wont stop!" "Hey! that's my line!"

⟡ ݁₊ . MEDIC

౨ৎ He's... neutral about you.

౨ৎ While Medic thinks your way of battling weird, he is quite fond of your way of healing, it's efficient and quick, but its kind of a bummer have to keep up with you in order to heal, and keeping up with you is something only Scout can pull off.

౨ৎ This old man also thinks your boom box so annoying, everytime you're near him, he gets an headache, seriously, Medic sometimes gets angry at how "unnecessarily" loud you are, but he doesn't say anything cuz he knows you don't really care about his annoyance anyways.

౨ৎ But like i said: you have some points with him for saving him from Scout: Medic could feel himself aging 3x faster just from hearing Scout calling him.

౨ৎ Doesn't really Uber you since you're also on the healing side too, so he thinks it would be a waste, maybe he would if you asked for i but if not Medic won't even cogitate.

౨ৎ I have to say: Medic's a bit jealous of your tech and healing skills, but his pride would never allow him to admit it, usually would just try to do something alike in secret, if you catch him, doc's going to deny it to the end.

౨ৎ Medic finds you polite too, a bit too electric, but polite, even when he ends up envying your tech and whatnot... you always is positive towards the old doctor.

౨ৎ Not much to say, this man is cool with you.

౨ৎ "You ready doc?" "Let's do this mein Freund"

⟡ ݁₊ . SPY

౨ৎ Oh please stop.

౨ৎ You guys are polar opposites, while he's all sneaky and silent, you're all intense and loud, he HATES that, is it so hard for you to keep it down??

౨ৎ Sometimes he asks himself how do you even is one of the most efficient mercs, Spy thinks the way you work is so unprofessional.

౨ৎ You two have beef and it shows, everytime you two ends up interacting in the battlefield you always got some funny remark to make about him, and so does he.

౨ৎ You may or may not blow up his plan of sneaking behind enemies by making noise to startle the enemy, consequently getting him eliminated.

౨ৎ Spy is getting gray hairs just from people mentioning you, another one that always ends up with headaches because of your music, but unlike Medic he voices his annoyance, but again: you do not care, so you just mock him.

౨ৎ You also sometimes switch your healing area to speed when Spy tries to enter it to heal himself, and your little smug ass go: "We need a healer!" while spy is just 🧍🏼

౨ৎ Spy labels you the #1 stressful merc to be around now, making Scout go to 2nd place! congrats 🎉

౨ৎ "Must you always be so loud?" "not my fault you don't like music."

⟡ ݁₊ . BONUS !!

⟡ ݁₊ . Little interactions dialog you have with them<3

౨ৎ "Yo Scout, you killing it with that bat!" "And ur killing with those skates!"

౨ৎ "We need a healer!" "Very professional..."

౨ৎ "Lets pump this battlefield!" "I like your enthusiasm mein freund."

[macgyvermedical]

Can you give me an estimate on how much pain a compound fracture would cause, especially if other parts of the body are damaged within the break? Or is that too oddly specific?

Acute pain, like a broken bone, is highly dependent on the individual and their past experience of pain, so there's not really a good way to quantify how much pain any specific injury would cause.

The way we "quantify" pain in healthcare for comparison (usually a comparison of before* a medication vs after) is on a scale of 0, being no pain, and 10, being the worst pain the person has ever experienced. You might have heard it "the worst they can imagine", but honestly I don't find this particularly helpful because it relies on both the person's pain history and their imagination instead of just their pain history.

The best I can do is ask you to think about what other experiences this character has had. If this is the worse thing that's ever happened to them, this could be their 10/10. If similar things happen to them a couple of times a year, it might be an 8 or 9 instead.

*skewed to around "4" and "7" because that's when the order says you can give pain medication.

[rokkit-story-time]

"L-look, I just... I wanted to chill out for a few days, yeah? Cats are a good form for that!"

I nodded slowly as I kept petting. The slow, gentle strokes along his fur seemed to be helping. "And now you've forgotten... how your power works?"

"No!" It was less a shout and more a whine. I decided to assume it was the cat body changing the quality of the voice. "I... I don't have a 'default' or anything, you know? I don't just 'shift back' to my original self, I actively turn *into* it each time. A-and now I'm..." They tuck their nose between their paws. "...I can't picture what I looked like clearly enough to change..."

Oh. "I have some pictures of us from a year or two back. Would that help?"

He looked up at me and blinked, then lowered his head back onto the couch. "Yeah... yeah that should be enough to go off of. Now all the panic feels a little silly..."

I didn't reach for my wallet right away. "I mean, you couldn't have known when I'd come over."

"Yeah, I guess, but even if it was a little uncanny, I could've turned back into something with hands and sent you a message asking..."

"...so why didn't you?" There was something else here. I could feel it. So I started nudging. "And before you say you were panicking too much, you've been silent for *days*. That doesn't seem like a short-term lapse in judgement."

"W-well, I was still enjoying being a cat up until yesterday!" The protest was weak; there *was* something else going on. "A-and..."

"And... you didn't want to change back?" I offered.

"No! M-maybe?" They tensed like they wanted to flee, but slowly relaxed again under my continued reassuring scritches. "I want to change back into a *human* again, b-but..."

I looked at them with a smile and nodded. "But...?"

They looked at me, then shifted to rest their chin on my leg. "...remember last year? At that club event?"

They paused, so I nodded and continued for them. "I wanted a possible hookup and you decided the discount was worth it, so we ditched the faux-het-couple routine by you turning into a girl." I tried to keep any smugness out of my encouraging smile. They were different that night, and no amount of excuses had made me forget just how.

"W-well, I, um... th-that was the first time I'd ever done that." They refused to look at me, but I nodded anyway. "But it... w-wasn't the last? I-I mean, it was the last in... in public..."

They seemed to have trouble continuing, so I offered another nudge. "...but sometimes you'd do it again in private...?"

"...yeah. I... I tried out different looks and body types. A few of them I really liked. And sometimes, I... I caught myself wishing I could wear a look all the time. While going about my life, you know?"

"...why can't you~?"

They raised their head, and even the cat features managed to look utterly incredulous. "What, do you want me to out myself as a shifter!? Or are you suggesting I fake my own death or something?"

I couldn't help but laugh as I shook my head. "Nothing that dramatic! C'mon, you can be subtle. Call up a therapist, talk about your feelings a bit, get a prescription for some new medication..."

"...so like... actually transition...?"

I nodded. "If that's how you feel, then yeah." My smile widened as I scritched under their chin for a moment. "In case it wasn't clear, I'm here for you and will always support you fully. And I say you should do what feels right!"

"M-maybe. But that whole plan feels, I dunno... a little disingenuous?"

"So you can pass better than most and won't actually need any HRT or any surgery. Does that change who you want to be?"

She laid there for a long moment before responding. "...no..."

I nodded, still alternating between head scritches and long pets down her body. "...have a name in mind~?"

"...Coral..."

"Damn, you picked a pretty one~" I flopped back against the couch. "You've really been thinking about this ever since that night at the club, huh?"

"...yeah..." She was silent for a few more moments before speaking up again. "...sorry. I... I should've talked to you about it before now. I kept meaning to! But there was always some excuse I'd give myself, and then I wouldn't be able to speak up, and..."

I just nodded. "I get it. Kind of a shame, though... I could've asked you out waaay sooner."

"You... what!?" Watching the cat body language take over as she suddenly leapt up and backwards made it *really* hard not to laugh, but I held it down.

"Well yeah, remember how I kept saying I wanted to make sure I only left with the cutest girl at the club? Well, the cutest girl at the club that night was *you*. But I couldn't just say, 'hey you should turn yourself into a girl more so we can date' or anything. Glad I didn't too, or I wouldn't get the chance to see what other cute looks you've grown attached to~"

"Y-yeah, I-I guess you're right!" The panic in Coral's voice was similar to when I'd first gotten there, but somehow much more gay this time. "I uhhh, I should probably go change then!"

I patted my pocket as she dashed for the stairs. "Need that picture~?"

She stopped. "...no. Not right now, at least." She looked back at me with what I could only assume was the cat version of an emotional smile. It was *adorable*. "Thank you~"

I just nodded again as she turned and zoomed up the stairs, excited to see what she might look like when she came back down.

Your friend, a shapeshifter (a secret you've kept since childhood) hasn't answered your texts in days, so you head to their home. Upon arriving, you find that they're in the middle of an existential crisis; they can't remember how to turn back into their original, human form.

[kiko---random-stuff-probably]

Infection

How Kallamar got his scar on his left eye.

For context: Kallamar is seveteen and got recruited by Shamura (who is around 30).

Kallamar did not expect, after being recruited by War themselves as a poisoner, to be in any way met with open arms by the other soldiers, for several reasons.

First of all, he was not a warrior. He only stepped foot on the battlefield after everything was done, and some of the soldiers considered him way too fragile and weak to actually help.

Second, he was a foreigner, and had some problems with the language barrier, even if luckily he came from a place where Silk Cradle's language was pretty used and he even read it on some medical tomes. Still, he had a certain accent (that he was actively trying to lose) and some words were still unknown to him. He was pretty sure thatsome soldiers referred to him with a slur, bbut he was not sure. He wasn't the only foreigner in Shamura's army, but this was not going to stop it.

Also, the fact that he poisoned his ex village was considered by a lot of soldiers as a clear sign that he was, and he could quote the exact words a soldier used behind his back, "a psychotic piece of shit who will not hesitate to stab the Spider's back". Which, obviously, was not true: he had no reason to hurt Shamura! After all, they gave him a home, a role, hot food and sometimes they even talked to him! Way mroe than anything he could had ever wish for!

So, he knew he was not in any way welcome there.

Still, slashing his left eye was a little too much.

Right now, Kallamar was sitting on a brand bed in the medical bay, holding an hand over his now bandaged face.

The doctor was reassuring, once again, that his wound was not going to get infected and that he was going to have a quick recovery, before excusing herself and leaving when Shamura entered.

War glanced at the squid, their expression indecifrable and cold. Disappointed, maybe.

Kallamar looked at the ground, as his mind started to race.

- I was informed of what happened. I still want to hear your side.-

- I didn't... I was not the one to start it.-

- I have no doubt in that, but I still want to hear your version.-

Kallamar was shaking, as he tried to find the words.

- I didn't... I was just... they attacked me out of nowhere, and said i had to "earn my right to live" and things like that, and others were inciting them, and... and... and they had a knife, and...- he was more than omce interrupted by a few sobs - I was scared... I couldn't...-

- You managed to take their knife away and then stabbed your opponent, right?-

- They putted it down, saying something about "a fair fight", and I knew they could had easily snapped my back, I just...-

- You stabbed them in the neck. Precisely in the carotids.-

Kallamar still didn't loook at them.

- And than you stabbed them other fifteen times. Some of the soldiers even report that you started laughing during your rampage.-

Kallamar holded back a sob. As they needed another reason to hate him. He was going to be executed, or thrown in the prison at best. All for a stupid fight.

- I really can't see why you were scared. Honestly, I'm impressed.-

Kallamar looked at the spider, trying to catch an underlying sarcasm. Instead, he found something akin to pride - Do not worry, I am not mad about their death, it was self defense after all.-

- I killed them.-

- They attacked first with the intention to kill you. I can forgive your reasonable outburst of adrenaline. We will have to work on your emotion management and teach you how to incapacitate an opponent without killing them, even if I doubt someone else will decide to try something similar to this.-

Kallamar was sure he must had misheard them.

-... Why aren't you mad? You should be mad that I was the one who survived. You should...- towards the end, he slipped in a swear word in his language.

Shamura's expression was filled with genuine confusion.

- Why would I be mad about that...? You are an important asset in my army and also a good kid with a promising future. I would had been really upset if you actually died.-

Bullshit. They must be lying. He was just a stupid weakling who could not do anything right and who's only role in life was to die and-

- Regardless of whatever your old village made you believe, you matter as much as anyone else. I'm happy you're alive, kid.- the spider gently patted his head, and that was it.

The squid bursted into tears, overwhelmed.

War let him cry, fully knowing how much he needed it.

[ask-thetulparcrew]

I just wanted to wave excitedly as a fellow system with Mouthwashing fictives

Does anyone remember curly doing pull ups using the pipes in the tulpar? Or what were your favorite hobbies/ways to pass the time on the ship?

🕊️🪦

OH MY GOSH.. ANOTHER SYSTEM WITH MOUTHWASHING FICTIVES.. I'm trying so hard not to foxy jumpscare you guys /vpos. BUT that did ironically make me remember some source memories I didn't realize I had. Yes, my curly did. In fact, I used to do that it first started in the medical bay to grab my attention, and I was too wrapped up in doing something. I didn't notice until he was about 5 pull-ups in, and I got spooked and fell out of my chair. He stopped doing his pull-ups to make sure I was okay as he laughed a bit. It became a regular occurrence, however, because he needed to "stay active somehow so he doesn't lose his babies." His babies being his muscles. I'm pretty sure in reality he did that as a way to bring everyone, especially me closer to each other as I was rather avodiant of everyone. One of my favorite hobbies on the ship was studying the books that were on the ship (plus the books I smuggled in) it was all about my other source history as well as medical related notes. A thing that helped past time was Daisuke showing me videos that he had saved on his phone before the ship took off. I also tended to do Daisuke's, Curly's, and Swansea's hair at times whenever I was being "too avodiant" as my Daisuke and Curly put it. We only got swansea to agree because Daisuke kept asking him nonstop until he agreed. We also hosted game nights from time to time to past the time, and sometimes, I'd be dragged to it. Though, most of the time, I tried to keep to myself and my little corner (medical bay). -🪫 (MN)

so the funny part about me being on this blog is that mouthwashing is *not* my main source so as far as memories go there its kind of a bust but if it still counts i still really liked doodling and hiding sticky notes everywhere i was just because i could. was kind of a guy of many hobbies because i had nothing better to do which is not unlike our current host so im right at home in my little corner of doing whatever i want forever honestly -🪅 (MB) <— (Look at this goober not having mouthwashing as a primary source on a mouthwashing ask blog /t /lh -🪫 {MN})

Not that I can recall in my source! The pipes aboard the Tulpar were usually carrying steam, water, or materials that'd be dangerous if the pipe broke! Swansea might've caught me once and told me off from doing so. Instead, I've a pullup bar installed in my bedroom, as well as some dumbells, to stay in shape! -🪐 (TT)

[wizzdot]

Sunshine

Chapter 4

Description: will Ray agree to join the team? Will she go to Mexico with them..? Will she remember how to shoot straight? Who knows..

You listened to what Price had offered. You really tried to find it in yourself to agree, but no. “I can’t do that..”

“Can’t do what..?” - “expect your men to trust me. To, for want of a better term, take a bullet for me.. it’s not fair. Christ, even I wouldn’t trust me as far as you could throw me..”

“..” You glance around at the three men, all silent, the Scot fidgeting with his hoodie strings and Ghost staring straight at back at you. The Captain starts to respond, but you cut him off, earning an exasperated sigh from the man.

“Also.. I’ve been out for months, over a year, in fact... What makes you so sure I can still shoot straight. Hold my own in a fight? What if it’s all gone? Any potential you may have seen in me. It’s gone. I’m exhausted, Captain. You’re placing too much trust in me. I’ll let you down. Your team, I can see it’s precious to you. I can’t be trusted with that responsibility…”

The man clears his throat and sends a wry smile in your direction.

“You don’t lose that sort of skill. It stays with you forever. If, for your own peace of mind, you’d like to go down the range and sharpen up, then feel free. Likewise, if you’d like to spar and polish up on your hand to hand, then I’m sure one of the boys here can help. Gaz, too, once he is fighting fit, which won’t be long. As far as trust goes, I look at it this way. Trust is a two way street. If you trust me, my team, enough to join us, then we will trust you enough to fight alongside. Simple as that, really”.

You clench your jaw, annoyed at yourself for even considering this. No, surely not.. snap out of it!! Just as you think of something to say to help get you out of this, the captain speaks again.

“You have my word, y/n, you’re free to leave. If at any point you want out, just tell me. I’ll sign the papers, set you up with a new identity and new house, you’ll be out. For good. I’ll give you the clearance, make sure you get your pension, your insurance, retirement, everything, you'll be discharged. I can say it’s on medical grounds.."

You can’t quite believe his offer. When you’d thrown that tantrum at the ceremony, they’d take everything from you. Everything that the Captain had just listed, gone, you had a red stamp across your name.

DISHONOURABLY DISCHARGED

You feel your throat constrict. You clear it slightly, trying to relieve the lump that had settled there.

“Fine” you murmur, not looking up from your shoe laces, if you looked at any of them now, you might change your mind and go running back to your shitty life on the outskirts of town. You’d been more dead for the past 18 months, than you would have been if you’d actually have died in Russia, with the rest of your unit. It had been a sorry existence. One of solitude, and misplaced anger. You’d made your bed and laid in it, so to speak. And God, was it a horrible, lumpy, uncomfortable bed..

“Fine, I’ll do it” you repeat, turning on your heel and leaving the room.

“Welcome to the team, Ray. Johnny will show you to your room, and give you a quick tour of the base” the Captain replies, in an even tone, hiding his slight surprise at your agreement.

You glance to Johnny, who immediately snaps out of his dazed state and jumps to his task. “Right, yeah, ok! Follow me, lass”.

You follow Soap, who cleverly decides not to make conversation, this time. He arrives at a room.

“This is you..” he explains pointing to the door in front of him. He then points to his left “that’s Gaz..” then to his right “and that’s me - Cap and Ghost have their own rooms in the next hall. The common room is at the end of this hallway - 141 only. The communal mess hall is back the way we came, near the infirmary. The gym —”

You decide to interrupt. “That’s all, you can go.. I know where everything else is” you murmur, accidentally harshly. He immediately turns and it makes you feel guilty for your tone. Christ, you’d not had to be nice to anyone for years.. you were rusty.

As he turns away with a glum look on his usually too cheery face, you wince, realising that you’d upset him. You step into the room he had shown you, closing the door behind you. It was a typical military base room. A bed in the middle, a chest of drawers and a wardrobe, with a desk on the other side of the room. Basic and simple. You dump your bags on the bed and start rummaging through what little you had left.

These bags hadn’t been touched since you’d left. They were still packed from when Price and Kyle had arrived to your room immediately after storming out from the ceremony. As you unzip the rucksack, filled with your old life, your dog tags tumble down and snag on the zip.

You try to blink away the sting in your eyes, holding them up to the light with the metal chain. They clink against each other, flashing the artificial ceiling light into your eyes . Up close, you can see small scratches and tiny divots - scars left behind from years of service.

After a deep breath, you lift them and secure them around your neck - finally back where they belong. They feel cold against your skin, but the sensation feels familiar. Pull yourself together!

The next thing in your bag, is your old shemagh. It is tattered, torn and frayed at the edges. It’d always been with you on the field. You’d never been anywhere without it. If it wasn’t around your neck, it was tied to a gun, or around a belt loop. It was your good luck charm. God, the miles that old scarf had done…

You noticed that the Captain and Gaz usually wear one of their own around their necks. You weren’t sure if theirs held the same emotional attachment as yours did, but you assumed their ‘items’ were the hats that always donned their heads, and Ghost’s was his mask. You weren’t sure what Soap’s thing was yet..

As you pull it from the rucksack, the fabric feels so soft in your hands, you scrunch it up and take a huge inhale of its scent. Memories flood your vision. You sit down on the bed, allowing yourself a moment to reminisce on the past.

A knock on the door pulls you from your thoughts.

“Y/n? Still in ‘ere?” The voice asks.

You roll your eyes. It was Gaz.

“What do you want?”

“To catch up..” he replies, undeterred

“Already have..”

“C’mon, Ray.. let me in..” he whines, trying the handle.

Damn it, should have locked the door.

He freezes when he sees you, sitting on the bed, hands wrapped around your military scarf and wearing your dog tags around your neck. He eyes you for what seems like ages. Eventually he speaks..

“There she is!” he smirks “knew you couldn’t resist...”

[slippinmickeys]

The Unseelie Court (3/16)

Scully was surprised to find that the Adrian County morgue had the budget to employ a diener, who met her at the autopsy bay door with a scowl. He was a gruff looking man, short and stocky though his hands were as big and thick as baseball mitts. His face was like a cartoon character, a Looney Tunes mob boss with a big nose and a jutting chin. He had inky hair and what looked like a perpetual five o’clock shadow with eyes so dark she couldn’t make out his pupils, even from up close. 

She introduced herself, and he grunted. 

“Aeon,” he said, shaking her hand and pointing out the locker room. “Have trouble finding the place?”

Scully shook her head. They’d come right from the crime scene. Mulder had dropped her off and headed to the hotel to check in.

“Have you been waiting long?” she asked him. 

He looked at her with his head cocked to the side. On his left eyelid were a constellation of skin tags. He shrugged and turned away. Scully hefted her small bag over her shoulder and walked in the direction he’d pointed. 

The locker room was small, cramped. She banged her elbow into the locker behind her as she changed into scrubs, and swore, shaking out her arm. Adjusting her watch band after the pain began to subside, she got a good look at the face. Her watch had stopped working. 

She sighed, knowing what Mulder would say, and pulled out her laptop. If he was going to throw wild theories at her, she was determined to walk into the conversation prepared. Armed for bear. 

There was nowhere to really sit, so she wandered down the hallway until she found a room with a few scattered tables and chairs. 

It was a break room like any other—a few crumby tables, a gummy bottle of Dawn next to the sink, a microwave that probably needed to be cleaned. The walls were bare but for the ubiquitous Family and Medical Leave Act poster and the air was reedy with the chemical smell of Lean Cuisines. Scully scrunched her nose distastefully. Opened a search engine and dug in. 

***

Mulder breezed into the autopsy suite with the sweet smell of the outdoors on his clothes, a marked contrast to the redolent Eau de dead of the morgue. 

Scully looked up from the table, surprised and pleased to see him. 

She pulled up the protective eyewear she was wearing, her eyes bright above the surgical mask. Mulder couldn’t help but grin at her, even over a body. Behind the cage of his ribs, he felt his heart soften at the sight of her. 

“Hey,” she said, leaning gloved hands against the edge of the autopsy tabletop. “How’d it go?”

“Not great,” he said, coming to a stop a few feet away from the body. “They had enough vacancy for separate rooms.” 

Scully’s eyes darted to the door nervously.

Mulder regretted teasing her. He watched as she shifted gears, and he moved his gaze to the body in front of them. The autopsy tech had removed the young man’s clothes, but it was clear Scully hadn’t gotten very far into her examination. There was not yet any Y incision, and the blanket offering the deceased what little dignity could be provided in his situation was still pulled up to his shoulders. 

“I thought you’d be half done by now.”

“I got a late start,” she said, shrugging. She pulled the mask below her mouth and leveled a look at him. “I take it you’re still married to this fairy idea?”

“Personnel file lists me as Single, Scully, you know that.”

“Cute,” she said humorlessly.

“My mother always said so.”

She gave him a look, her mouth a long, thin line. Yep. Shouldn’t have teased her with the hotel remark, he thought. She wasn’t big on being teased to begin with, and he’d probably just cratered his chances of an on-the-case dalliance. 

“The fae, or people like them, exist across nearly all cultures,” he finally said, tipping his cards so she could see his hand. “That kind of prevalence usually indicates at least a foundation in authenticity.”

“A version of Santa Claus exists in many cultures, Mulder, and I think we can both agree he’s not real.”

Mulder felt them settle into their usual routine. Odd how it sort of turned him on. Teasing was one thing, he thought. Honesty was another.

“I got what I wanted this year,” he shrugged.

At Mulder’s declaration, Scully’s eyes flitted immediately to his and she felt a flush rise up and spread along her collarbones. For a moment she could feel his rapacious mouth clamped over her vulva, his long, thick fingers curled into her, three knuckles deep. She gripped the metal countertop in front of her and inhaled before speaking.

“There is a theory that fairy folklore evolved from folk memories of a prehistoric race,” she said. “Newcomers superseded a body of earlier human or humanoid peoples, and the memories of this defeated race developed into modern conceptions of fairies.”

A slow, impressed smile crept up the corners of Mulder’s mouth. “…you’ve been doing some research,” he said.

“I may have spent a little time on the computer, yes,” she said, trying not to appear too pleased. “I think I pissed off my diener.”

“He’ll get over it,” Mulder said with a dismissive wave. Her diener must have been the dour fellow that showed him into the suite. Mulder shuffled his feet and leaned back against a metal countertop with an eager look on his face. “Hit me with it.”

Scully licked her lips before continuing, feeling a surge of sensual energy. 

“Proponents of the theory find support in the tradition of cold iron as a charm against fairies, viewed as a cultural memory of invaders with iron weapons displacing peoples who had just stone, bone, and wood at their disposal and were easily defeated. In folklore, flint arrowheads from the Stone Age were attributed to the fairies as ‘elfshot,’ while their green clothing and underground homes spoke to a need for camouflage and covert shelter from hostile humans, their magic a necessary skill for combating those with superior weaponry.”

“It’s a decent argument, but it’s not much fun,” Mulder said. 

“I’m going to remember that you said I had a decent argument,” she said, feeling ever so slightly smug. 

They were quiet for a moment and both turned their attention to the body before them. 

“Have you done an initial examination yet?” he asked. 

She shook her head, moving to stand next to the victim’s head. She reached up and turned on the microphone recording, rattling off the salient details. 

“I’ll begin with a visual examination,” she dictated, beginning by looking around the victim’s head and neck for signs of what might have killed him. 

Mulder slumped back against the shelf he was leaning against. He’d asked one of the deputies working the case to bring him a few more of their local missing persons cases just to compare notes, but now he thought maybe he should just head into the local station. Autopsies could take hours, and he wasn’t the biggest fan of the sounds and smells that came with the territory. He tapped the battered old file folder against his leg trying to decide what to do. 

Scully, for her part, was now fully engrossed in the work that lay before her. Getting to the victim’s face, she peeled back his eyelids, looking for petechiae. She didn’t see any, but she did notice that the man’s eyes were two different colors, as though he’d been assembled by a doll maker whose attention had strayed. One was a startling blue, like her own, the other brown, as dark as the oily depths of a cup of diner coffee.

“Mulder, can you hand me the missing persons file?”

He pushed off the tabletop he was leaning against and passed it over without a word. 

She flipped up a few pages. The purported victim, Daly Carmichael, had eye color listed as hazel, with no mention of heterochromia. She made a dull puzzled sound in the back of her throat. 

“Everything all right?” Mulder asked, stepping forward. 

“I don’t think this is Daly Carmichael,” she said. 

Mulder approached the table. “What do you mean?”

“The eyes are the wrong color,” Scully said. “Look.”

She handed over the file and shined a small flashlight into the victim’s eyes. 

“Two different colors,” Mulder said. 

“Yes,” Scully said. “The file lists his eye color as hazel.”

Mulder looked down at the picture of Daly. The man before them was identical to the picture in the file. Mulder squinted at the photograph, but it was old, taken in the 70’s, washed out pigment on textured paper; eye color was impossible to make out.

“Maybe the information on file is wrong,” he said.

Scully sighed.

“We’re still waiting for dental confirmation?” Mulder said. 

“Yes,” she confirmed. “The diener took dental X-Rays. They’ll go to a specialist.”

“Then maybe we shouldn’t make the call now,” Mulder said. He decided right then that he wasn’t going anywhere. This was too damn interesting. 

“I find it hard to believe the information in the file is wrong, Mulder. It’s a notable discrepancy. Heterochromia only occurs in 1% of the population. Of the world.”

“What if I told you it was common in fairies?”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” She reached up and turned off the mic.

“Not kidding,” he said. “There’s evidence going back roughly 500 years that Changelings have shown evidence of changing eye color.”

Changelings , she thought. Fucking changelings . Even her Aunt Olive didn’t believe in that one.

“Mulder, Changelings aren’t real!” she sputtered, letting frustration get the best of her. “They’re European folklore meant to make parents feel better about giving birth to children with chromosomal abnormalities and babies who succumbed to childhood illness!”

“By swapping out healthy infants for the imbecilic offspring of fairies or elves,” Mulder explained, feeling as though he were doing a good job keeping his own feelings in check. 

Scully leveled a look at her partner and took a deep, calming breath.  “Look at the file for Daly Carmichael,” she said, reclaiming a calm tone. “Tell me what religion he was.”

Mulder flipped open the file. “Catholic,” he said. “An altar boy at St. Francis.”

“The existence of changelings is believed to stem from the idea that infants are susceptible to demonic possession,” Scully said. “In the Medieval Chronicles, by Ralph of Coggeshall and in other sources, fairies are said expressly to prey upon unbaptized children.”

Her vigor and determination was something to behold.

“Scully,” he said, a little breathless, “are you trying to seduce me?”

She shook her head and turned back to look at the body, leaned in to get a better look at the victim’s face.

“Mulder, if I were trying to seduce you,” she said without looking up, “you’d know.” She reached back up and began recording again.

Something electric zipped through his veins. His mind spent the next thirty seconds buffering, interrupted only by a knock at the door. 

He turned to see Deputy Avery hovering outside, looking affable but maybe a little uncomfortable. He gave Mulder a friendly smile. 

Mulder gestured at him to come in, but the deputy only poked his head through the open doorway, holding out a couple of file folders. He never took his eyes off the body on the slab. 

“I’ve got those other Missing Persons files you wanted to see Agent Mulder,” he said, then took a thick swallow and stepped into the room, holding the folders out as if he didn’t want to be any closer to the victim.  

Mulder understood the impulse and put the poor deputy out of his misery, stepping forward to take them off his hands. 

“Appreciate you making the trip down here, Deputy.”

“Don’t mention it,” the blond man said, blinking rapidly at the body on the table. 

Scully finally looked up.

“He going to be okay?” she said, a little bemused. 

“Deputy Avery?” Mulder said. 

Avery darted his eyes to Scully and then straightened his posture.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, and approached the examination table. Mulder wasn’t sure if he was trying to prove his mettle to himself or the pretty FBI agent, who, Mulder couldn’t help but notice, looked radiant, even with safety glasses and a mask. 

A second later, a mop that had been standing up against the wall on the other side of the room—one Scully hadn’t recalled seeing before—fell to the floor, handle first. The sound made all three of them jump, and Avery shot out a hand and grabbed Scully’s arm.

“Jesus!” Avery said, his other hand to his heart. 

The sound had startled Scully too, the hairs on the back of her neck standing up, an uncomfortable chill racing through her. Still, she gave a small chuckle and Avery looked down to where he was grabbing her and immediately let go. She turned back to the body. 

Mulder stepped forward and put his hand on Avery’s shoulder. 

“Appreciate you bringing the files by, deputy,” he said. “You can go.” 

Avery swallowed hard and gave the body one long last look, darting his eyes briefly to Scully. 

“Thank you, sir,” he said, scooting quickly out of the room, leaving the door swinging in his wake.

When Mulder turned back to Scully, she had an odd look on her face, peering closely at the victim, leaning in. 

“Huh,” she said after a long minute of examination.

Mulder had to give himself a mental shake. “What is it?”

She turned to the tray of instruments that had been carefully set up next to the autopsy table and grabbed a pair of long tweezers. She worked the victim’s jaw open a little and pressed the instrument past his lips, pulling out, a moment later, a broad, dark green leaf, stiff and glossy. 

Mulder stood up straighter.

“What is that? A leaf?” 

“Appears to be,” Scully said, twisting the tweezers to get a better view. “Magnolia, maybe. I don’t know.”

Then, suddenly: “Aeon?” she called out. 

Mulder was confused for a moment when the dark haired diener stuck his head through the bay door. 

He grunted in acknowledgement. “Yeah?”

“Magnifying glass?” she asked, looking around. 

“In the lab,” the man said, hooking a thumb toward the room opposite the autopsy suite. “Through here.”

Scully moved efficiently, stepping out of the autopsy bay and through the doors of the  lab. In the corner was a small examination station. Mulder followed, watching her curiously. She pulled down the lighted magnifying glass to get a better look at the leaf. 

“Mulder, look at this,” she said, holding the leaf under the light with the tweezers.

He looked through the lens. Etched into the back of the leaf was a seven-pointed star. 

“Bag this, would you?” Scully said, pushing the leaf toward him, an energized look on her face. 

She wasted no more time getting back to the body. She wouldn’t admit to Mulder, but she kind of liked it when things got weird. 

She wasn’t quite prepared for how weird things were about to get, and how fast. When she stepped back into the autopsy bay, the body on the table was just as she’d left it, mouth wide open. 

But it wasn’t the young man she’d left there. It was someone much, much older.