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softie-rain · 3 years ago

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Meet me at the Hanging Tree

Hunger Games au

Next chapter: Chapter 2

Pairings: Peter Maximoff x fem!reader

Series Summary: Panem, governed by President Magnus, is getting ready for the 75th Hunger Games. It's in this Memory Edition that the reader will learn how far one can go for the loved one, even if that could bring her to certain death.

Series Warnings: Murdering, described death and violence, suicide, death for natural causes such as starving, hypotermia, dehydratation and wounding infection.

Disclaimer: The story is wrote in third person as I'll add other point of views outside the arena. Also, romance will began later in the book, as the characters won't immediately interact!

Chapter one: May the odds be ever in your favor

warnings: mention of starving

summary: seems like an ordinary day in District 12 as y/n Grey get ready for the reaping. But she can never know what future has planned for her.

a/n: if you feel like you've already read this it's because you have lol

Light. A bright light came out of nowhere, waking y/n up all of a sudden. Not that she had slept that much anyway. She never did, and that day especially.

She kept staying in bed, not wanting to get up. Because if she did, she would be forced to face the truth of what was going to happen, and she really didn't want to. Every year for five years now. That fear that grew inside of her the day before, developed during the night, and reached its peak in the morning.

On one side, that was good. Every time she felt fear, panic, anxiety building inside of her, her stomach closed itself almost in a protective way.

After all, she would puke everything shortly after anyway. She never ate during Reaping Day. But, from the sound coming from the small room next to hers, which was the only room in the shack that you had decided to call house for convention, Jean did. And she also woke up sooner than her, but that wasn't something new. Weird enough Jean was two years older than y/n, which meant that she couldn't be picked out anymore. And yet, sometimes she thought that she was even more scared.

One year. In one week she'd be seventeen, which meant that she only had to survive another reaping after the one of today. Mentally cursing herself for not being born a few days before, because that would have made this her last Hunger Games ceremony as a possible tribute, she finally got up slowly. She didn’t even have the time to reach the door that she was met with Jean red puffy eyes. She cried. Without saying a word, she went to hug her, uncertain if it was the right thing to do at first. “Did you sleep well?” Jean asked. “Yes.” The girl lied, as if she didn’t know the truth. Y/n moved out of her sister's grip, and directed to the chair where she left her clothes the day before. “You don’t need to go today.” She shakes her head. “Yes I do. We still need to eat tonight. What, you don't want to party with me not being picked?” The read-head stayed serious. “Please be careful. If they find you-” “They won’t. Promise.” And with that being said, she left the house with nothing more than her knife in one hand, and a small bag in the other.

Honestly she hated hunting. Those animals she killed, even the smallest one, they all had more freedom that she will ever have. And when she killed them, she felt like she was taking that freedom from them. But she had to survive too, right? Selling those squirrels allowed you to eat enough every day. Jean hated it too. She'd prefer that you just procured the herbs for her mother to sell them at The Hob like she did before, but before they had their dad working at the mine. When he died it was quite a shock for the three of you, especially for your mother.

She still worked, but she barely sold anything anymore. Jean had tried to help her too, but without any success. So it was up to y/n. Or at least that's how she felt.

As she walked over the fence, which as usual wasn't electrified, she looked up at the sky. It was of a dark color, gray clouds threatening to start raining. It was almost nine in the morning and the ceremony wouldn't have started before noon, so she had all the time to find something to eat, go back home, get ready, and survive the reaping. Walking in the woods scared almost everyone in District 12. But for her, it was escaping. Escaping the misery of the Seam, the terror of the Hunger Games. She heard a small crack on her left and cautiously lifted her weapon. There it was, a rabbit that had fallen in the trap that she had prepared the day before. "Sorry little one." She mumbled, cutting the rope. "But I need to live too."

~~~

"Well finally she's back! Where have you been, you're late!" Jean was almost yelling at her, the pity she felt this morning for her sister was now replaced with hysterical anger. It always went like that, she got used to it by now. "Oh just picking your dinner, you're welcome." She said, throwing the bag on the table. "Come on y/n, i prepared your bath." Their mother came out of Jean's room, which was big enough for the small bathtub - even if to y/n was smaller than a bowl - and so to be considered a bathroom. She undressed and started washing herself. After brushing off all the dirt off her body she dried her hair with a towel, if you could call that rag a towel.

She observed the dress that your mother had prepared for you on your bed. It was simple, mostly white with shadows of pale pink, probably the original colour. It was Jean's old dress, and now it was hers. The older sister was looking at her from the door, that sad look back on her face.

She waited until she was dressed and then hugged you again, tighter than that morning. "I love you, you know that?" Y/n nodded in her arms. "Well I hope so. It's the least after I make you survive every day." Jean gently slapped her on the arm. "Can you be serious for once?" She shaked her head. "Hardly doubt that." Jean chuckled. “Everything will be alright.” She reassured her sister. Their mother came in interrupting the moment. “It’s time.” They both nodded, and got out headed to the Palace of Justice.

The two sisters held hands the whole way there, until they had to separate due to y/n need of getting registered. She followed the line of kids and, after having dropped her drop of blood on the paper in front of the peacekeeper, she positioned herself in the group of possible tributes. She searched for her sister's look, hoping to find some hope. But her thoughts were interrupted by a feminine voice the whole District knew too well. “Welcome, welcome!” Effie Trinket said to the speaker. “Happy 75th Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favour.” She happily welcomed everyone. “Before we begin, here we have a video directly from the Capitol, with our President Magnus announcement for the year Quarter Quell!” And with that the video began. “War. Horrible, war…” Honestly, y/n felt pity for the woman. As any other Capitol citizen she found the Hunger Games thrilling and exciting, but being the hoster in District 12 wasn’t the best. If she was her, she would have had that desperate look in the corner of her eyes too. Almost invisible, but y/n knew it was there. Sometimes she wondered if she actually felt bad for the tributes, or if it was really just pure enjoyment of the Games.

The video finally finished and Erik Magnus appeared on screen, his daughter and son behind him, dressed elegant as ever. “Welcome, people of Panem. Exactly 75 years ago our most horrible, terrifying and destructive war came to an end. 75 years ago, we put the word over to the Dark Days. The Hunger Games are a constant reminder of those days, a reminder not to repeat the same mistakes again. I am now talking to the districts. You are angry and mad. You think that you are the only ones who had losses during that war, and keep having them. But I am here to prove you wrong. Every 25 years, as a reminder of the defeat of the Districts, we plan a Quarter Quell, and so we will this year. But this time, we want to remind you that we lost too. We lost friends. Families. Loved ones. And for that, this year, the Capitol too will offer two tributes, picked from this jar exactly the same way any other tribute is.” Everyone started murmuring, talking with the person next to them, even Effie seemed shocked. Someone started clapping, some other saying “That’s fair!”. Y/n observed the reaction of the person on screen. The president’s progeny looked just as shocked as the rest of the people. Was it possible that no one knew about it but the President and the gamemakers?

After a few minutes of silence where he ordered the teens in age to participate in the Games to get in line, he spoke again. “And so, we’ll be the first to start this Reaping Day.” He gestured to a woman next to him to go pick the card in the two jars positioned in front of him. “As for the ladies.” The woman spoke with a broken voice, her hand shaking from the anxiety. “Lorna Dane.” Even if she tried to hide it, the relief in her voice was obvious. The camera moved over the group, where a girl with short dark hair was already moving out. Everyone watched her as she kept walking, the girl herself picking to the giant screens in front of her. She reached the President on his stage, and positioned herself behind the woman who was now going for the other jar. “Now, the boys.” Her voice was less nervous now, which probably meant that she didn’t have any son. She took a piece of paper from it and looked at it.

At first, it was like she wasn’t reading it well, like she couldn't believe what was written. But she did anyway. “Peter… Peter Magnus.” The camera almost flew to the boy's face and even if she wasn’t shown, the sobs of her sister were clearly heard. As for Peter himself, he was clearly trying to hide the fear he felt, moving slowly to stand next to Lorna. The camera then moved to Erik, his father, who wasn’t showing anything but pure indifference to the news that his son had just got picked to a certain death. Y/n wanted to feel bad for those two, she really did. But like her fellow District habitants, she couldn't. She just hid it better. The only person she actually felt sorrow for was Peter's sister. Her cries could still be heard from the screen, even if two peacekeepers had distanced her from the stage.

The president stayed still, crossing his hands. "Now that Capitol City has their tributes too, we can proceed with the District Reaping. Happy Hunger Games and may the odds be ever in your favour." All the citizens clapped their hands, and then the connection was interrupted to show the Panem symbol, the national anthem in the background. Effie was recomposing herself after the news, and remembered the reason why she was there. "Ahem, well. As usual, ladies first." She said, and walked over to the jar. Her coloured nails wandered over the many names, and finally picked one. She walked to the microphone again and spoke with a clear voice: "Y/n Grey!" It took her a moment to realize that she had called her name.

Some kids started pushing the girl gently, and moved away so that she could reach Effie. At first she didn't make a movement, but soon realized she had to. Y/n started walking slowly, very slowly. Her eyes met with Jean's one and she knew, from the pain in her eyes, that that was exactly what Peter's sister was feeling at that very moment. "Ah yes, very well!" Effie said, inviting the new tribute with her. "And now, for the boys!" She barely heard as Effie called the name of Darwin. She didn't know a lot about him, only that he worked at the market. But as they shaked hands, only one thought was taunting her mind.

I am going to participate and probably die in the 75th Hunger Games.

tags: @raincoffeeandfandoms @septicrebel @sweeter-innocence-fics

#hunger games au #peter maximoff x reader #peter maximoff x y/n #peter maximoff x you #peter maximoff imagine #peter maximoff #evan peters #evan peters x reader #evan peters x you #evan peters x y/n #evan peters imagine

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the-broken-truth · 3 years ago

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The Dollmaker's Healer - Yandere Donna Benevieto x Reader (Part 1)

Memory is both a blessing & a curse - both helpful and hindering - both a miracle and a burden. You remembered how you come to be in the village - One of your late relatives passed away and bequeathed to you their Romanian Estate; you didn't even know that you were of Romanian Descent. Well - you knew your surname had a Romanian meaning but you didn't take much thought into it. Along with the estate - there were a few vaults and chests your late relative hoarded; making one of the richest residents in the village.

After meeting with the lawyer and getting your plane ticket - you traveled to Romanian's Village and was taken to your estate by a horse-pulled carriage.

The Estate was massive - tucked away in the Misty Valley with trees surrounding you; located on the edge of the cliff where the waterfall roared. The estate was about 3 stories - complete with an attic and a basement that was converted into a training room/herbal lab; that was your favorite part of the house. During your time in O/S (Orginal State), you spent a lot of your time hunting with your uncles or making salves and elixirs with your aunts from various plants; documenting the effects to know which were needed at which times.

To your uncles - you were the Bearer of the Eagle's Eye: You saw the furthest and could nail prey from as small as rabbits to as big as elk with a single arrow.

To your aunts - you were the Mistress/Master of the Gardens: Able to identify any kind of plant without fail. You got the best of both worlds and it came in handy considering that you were more attached to the wilds than civilian life.

With that memory of how you come to be here first in your mind, another come - the first time you saw the veiled woman and her puppet. You were standing on the back patio that overlooked the forest below the cliff your home sat - the fog was light this morning and you were just basking in the beauty when you looked to the side and saw another estate on the other side of the opening, sitting on the other waterfall's cliff. - it was grand but not as grand as yours. On the other estate's patio - you could see a figure, dawned in a black dress with a veil covering their face and - was that a doll upon their lap? You watched them for a while before the doll - it moved on its own, getting out the other person's lap and the two of them looked in your direction before disappearing into the estate. You thought about what the carriage driver told you - The L/N Estate was close to the House Beneviento - the current and only head of that family was Donna Beneviento, also known as the Dollmaker. You didn't think anything of it and went back inside your home to make some new healing salves you came up with.

A few months had passed since you first come to the village - you knew nothing here was normal: Lycans attacking at times, mutated wolves coming up out of nowhere, and then...there were the Daughters of the Castle - you encountered them a few times but you were able to defend yourself; sometimes leaving with a bite or a few scratches but it was never too bad.

One morning - you noticed that you were out of meat and grabbed one of the purses of Lei from the chest and put on your cloak before heading out the door. At this time - you developed of a bit of a reputation: You've used your salves for the people of the village and the sick got better, the hurt was relieved of their pain, and the restless was sleeping soundly; you made it into a bit of a business and it was very profitable. Everything was going great...until...the moment you met them.

"Excuse me. Are you Y/N L/N of L/N Estate?" A low voice called out behind you as you paid for your meat from the butcher. It was her - the veiled woman and beside her - clenching onto her dress - was the small doll you saw with her that day.

"Yes. I'm Y/N. May I ask who you are and what business you have with me?" You asked her.

"My name is Donna Beneviento - Head of House Beneviento. I came to find you because...I was hoping you could help me with my problem." Donna spoke in a low voice.

"What kind of problem?" You ask.

"It's her scar." The raspy voice of the doll called out - causing you to look at her. "She has a scar upon her face that she would love to be rid of but nothing she tried in the past seemed to have worked." The doll spoke.

"I'm guessing you're her companion? What's your name?" You asked the doll. The Doll and the Dollmaker were surprised - you weren't frightened by a talking doll?

"Angie. My name is Angie." The doll spoke. "You do no fear me?"

"At this point, I've seen a lot of things, Angie. Nothing really surprises me anymore here. So - what can you tell me about the scar?" You asked.

"It's...more of an infection caused than a common mortal wound." Donna's soft voice spoke as you stood back at your height to speak to her.

"An infection. Wait - was it caused by a Cadou?" You asked with a raised eyebrow - making both the doll and the dollmaker gasp.

"You know about the Cadou?" Angie exclaimed.

"Yes, I've dealt with a few cases of Cadou Scarring during my time here in the village. I made an elixir - while it can't get rid of the Cadou itself, it can make it so small that it gets rid of the scarring it leaves behind." You said with a smile.

"You...You can get rid of the scarring without getting rid of the Cadou? I...This is what I need - when can you do it?" Donna's voice was a bit louder - laced with hope that she could be free of the horrible scar without getting rid of the gift her mother gave to her.

"I have some vials of Cadou Represser at home; I don't feel quite comfortable allowing unknown people coming to my home but I can to yours - if you're comfortable with that. It will take 3 does - each a week apart." You explain.

"Yes - I can accept that. When can you come to House Beneviento to give me the first dosage?" Donna asked, her hands trembling with excitement.

"Once I'm done here - I dropped the food off at home, grab the vial and a fresh syringe, then meet you both at House Beneviento. Is that alright?" You ask with a tilt of your head.

"I...Yes. Please do come." Donna said as she gave a slight bow and turned on her heel before walking away with Angie at her heels. You smiled at the thought of aiding someone else with your knowledge and continued shopping - completely unaware of the smile and blush the veiled woman hid.

[A While Later]

After returning home and placing the food in the proper places - you made your way down to the Elixir Lab - that's what you liked to call it - and opened the cabinet to get a fresh bottle of Cadou Represser along with a fresh syringe - the cap securely over the needle to make more it was not contaminated by anything. You placed the two in your baggy jacket pocket before leaving your home once again. You began your journey to House Beneviento - crossing the wooden bridge that looked like it could collapse at any moment to the misty forest full of hanging dolls; you just looked at them and continued on your way until you came to a large grave surrounded by at least 20 smaller ones - looking at the gravestone of the large grave, you noticed that half of it was gone but the surname remained.

'Beneviento.' Sadness grasped your heart as you realized what you were looking at. 'Her family's massive gravesite. She really has no one besides Angie and her adoptive mother; that poor soul.'

You closed your eyes and brought your hands together in front of your chest in a praying manner - praying for the departed Beneviento Family & Donna's Happiness; no one should be as alone as she was. You finished your prayer and continued on your way - completely unaware of the porcelain eyes watching your move since you walked in the forest.

Upon arriving at the Beneviento Manor - you wanted up the wooden stairs to the door and knocked.

"Who is it?" The voice of Donna called out from behind the wood.

"It's Y/N. I'm here to do the treatment." You responded.

"Oh, please come in; the door is unlocked." Donna called out again.

You opened the door and saw Donna sitting in her wooden rocking chair near her round table; a cup of tea cooling by her side.

"Hello, Ms. Beneviento." You greeted as you made your way over to the veiled woman.

"Hello." It was simple and soft but you couldn't say anything about it.

With her permission - you lifted her veil to reveal her face and the Cadou that covered the right side of her face. Donna waited for you to utter about how horrifying she was but when she looked at your face, she saw the light blush creeping across your face. She asked if you were alright but all you said was: beautiful.

It was her turn to blush now.

No one ever called her beautiful - especially after seeing her scar. Donna felt a fluttering feeling in her stomach and warmth in her chest but she said nothing. You apologized for staring but she said it was alright; you thanked her before you gathered the supplies you brought with you and began your work. Filling the syringe with the liquid, you informed her that it would be a small stick and maybe some discomfort but it would pass in a few moments - she understood and you injected the Cadou Scar with the tip of the syringe and slowly injected the liquid until it was empty. You gathered your stuff but looked into the eye of the woman with a smile.

"I understand your reason but you really shouldn't cover your face, Lady Beneviento; you're very beautiful." You said with a smile.

"You... Do you really think I am beautiful?: Donna asked as you lightly dabbed the injection spot with an alcoholic wipe to make sure the injection site wasn't infected.

"Of course you are. You're a little different but that just adds to your beauty." You replied as your rose to your feet, gave her a polite bow before turning to leave but was stopped by her voice.

"Wait... Do you have anything else you need to be doing at this moment?" Donna asked.

"Not today. Why?" You asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Then...would you like to stay for tea?" Donna asked as she gestured her hand to the teacup.

"I would love to." You answered.

That's how it began - ever since the treatments started: you would go over to Donna's house just to see her and Angie, the two of them seemed to lighten up whenever you came around. During the second treatment, Donna asked you about her personal life - mainly: If you had a lover at home? This made you blush and Donna looked at but annoyed but when you said you didn't have a lover, she seemed to relax. After the second treatment - the Cadou was more than half as small as it was when the treatments started. Donna would ask you to stay more and more often, even when you had other clients to tend to - she was always upset when you had work but she didn't let her emotions get too involved...until that day.

It was a few days before her last treatment - the Cadou was so small that it only covered her right eye - the two of you were sitting and drinking tea and eating lemon cake squares; you made some and thought Donna would like one so you brought some over. Donna was talking about a new doll she was working on but when you didn't engage in conversation, she looked at you and saw you were zoned off somewhere. She gained attention once again and asked you what was on your mind - you informed her you met someone in the village.

This made her drop the cup in her hand, making it crash against the teacup platter resting on the table, shattering both.

"What do you mean - you met someone?" Donna asked with a low voice.

"Well - her father was one of my clients and she was thankful for my help. I ran into her in the village a few times running errands and she and I have been hanging out." You said with a blush on your face - this angered Donna more.

"But...Why would you need to hang out with her when you have Angie and me? Are we not enough for you?" Donna almost hissed at you.

"Well, she seems nice and we have a lot in common. She wanted to take me out to dinner tomorrow - it will be like our first date." That made something in Donna snap.

"A Date? With her?" She was silent for a moment before she spoke again. "No."

"What do you mean 'no'?" You asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Just what I said - you will not date this woman. You will not see her again." Donna said.

"And just who are you to tell me who I can or cannot see? My Mother? Donna, I'm a grown (Man/Woman), I can see who I want." You protested.

"I said you're not allowed to see her again; just listen to me and leave that woman alone. All you need are Angie and I." Donna said as she rose to her feet and made her way over to the stairs but stopped when you spoke again.

"Donna, you can't tell me who to see. You don't own me." You said.

"You need to listen to me - you are not allowed to see her again; just let it go." Donna gripped the rail of the stairway.

"You know what? I think I've been here for far too long to the point you think you can tell me what to do like you own me. I think I should leave." You walked to the door and reached out for the handle when the air suddenly got heavier.

"No. Don't...Don't leave me... You can't leave me, Y/N. Please." Donna called out as she began walking over to you but you kept your distance.

"No, I need to leave. I'll see you in a few days to finish the treatment but after that - we are no longer friends, Donna." Those words made Donna's blood freeze.

"No... No. Don't say that!" Donna's face raised as she lunged forward and grasped Y/N's hand. "Please, don't leave; I need you, Y/N. You can't just leave me." Donna begged.

"Watch me." You removed her hand walked out the door, slamming it behind you.

Donna fell to her knees and hugged herself, sobbing and begging for you to come back, to hold her and tell her you wouldn't leave her.

"Don't you understand, Mommy?" Angie's voice called out. "It's that other woman, she's making them think they don't want to be with you. If she wasn't in the way - you and Y/N would be together."

"Yes... I know it's her fault." Donna clenched her head and started laughing to herself. "She wants to take them from me. My Healer, my light, my love. But I won't let her. Don't worry, Y/N; once that weed in our garden is ripped out...it will just be us....Forever."

#resident evil 8 #donna beneviento #donna beneviento x reader

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coping-via-clint-eastwood · 3 years ago

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CSI Characters as Ancient/Medieval Fantasy Warriors (title is tentative)

I WROTE THIS ALL IN ONE SITTING!!!!! CAN YOU BELIEVE IT???????

*ahem* This is speculation about what powers and skills the CSI characters would have if they were warriors in an ancient/medieval fantasy setting, amongst other things. This was probably inspired by my recent wallowing in medieval fantasy (specifically Songs of War {if you don't know what that is, it's okay}), and I thought, why not entertain the idea? And after writing it out, I can say that it was fun toying around with it. If this inspires anybody to add on anything, or write fanfiction, or whatever, by all means go ahead.

@addictedtostorytelling @bartramcat @buildinggsr @davesdude80 @dobbyofearth @fandomismymiddlename @originalpinkranger @panchostokes @space-helen @stokes-theorem

All the people written about here are humans with powers.

Gil: He has enhanced eyesight, and is a sniper archer. If I may draw your attention to the ending scene of season 4 episode 2, All for Our Country:

Bonus shot because it reminds me of his Will Graham days:

He is canonically a deadeye. So, I am extending that to be a superhuman power. I'll put it this way: he can aim and shoot at the same target a contemporary sniper with a scope could; he does not require (or have, for that matter) a scope. Because he is not so able as his younger teammates, so he cannot be in the direct area of battle and fend off opponents. But he has excellent eyesight, so he hides up in a tree or on the edge of a cliff that overlooks the area or wherever is applicable, and shoots any targets he can. He uses a crossbow, since not as much strength is needed to pull back the cord as compared to a bow. He also has a light wooden staff which he uses to help him walk up inclinations. It's also his defensive staff; if an enemy manages to sneak up on him, he can point the staff at them and shoot a forcefield that will blast them back. But this is only effective at close range, hence why he has to use the crossbow for opponents further away. He wears a hooded cloak which is green on one side and a dusty brown on the other, so that he can camouflage himself, turning the cloak to whichever side he needs to match his surroundings. He is not the only one to wear a cloak however; Catherine, Ecklie, Jim, DB and Finn wear cloaks (more details when I get to each) as well to show they are of higher ranking, but only Gil's is hooded for practical purposes.

Warrick: His power is that he can jump really high. He can jump over a small hill and land on the ground on the other side. He's the one who helps get Gil to his perches if needed; he puts him over his shoulder and jumps, holding him with one arm and his war hammer in his other hand. He is strong enough to carry Gil. And Gil trusts him and is comfortable enough to let himself be borne in such a way, never struggling or crying out in fear when he is suddenly brought off the ground at such a high rate. In tandem with being able to jump high, he can strike his hammer on the ground when he lands and cause a quake. His hammer's enchantment depends on how high he jumped. On the ground, he swings his hammer at an opponent and sends them flying back (at a much greater distance than Gil's forcefield).

Bobby Dawson: He's the archer who is in the direct area of battle. He uses a small hunting bow, and also has a gladius in case any opponents manage to get close to him. He has enhanced reflexes, so he is able to turn around, draw weapons, and load and shoot his bow faster than normal.

Catherine: She is telekinetic. She does not use weapons because she prefers to have her hands free to gesticulate and help her focus on moving the objects she is controlling. Her cloak is a beautiful royal blue.

Heather: Mind control + reading minds + telepathy. And invisibility. Aside from turning the team's opponents against each other, mind control is useful for helping friends escape from dangerous situations; sometimes, it's easier than telling them what to do. She needs very strong concentration for her mind control, which is the ability she uses the most, so she makes herself invisible and keeps out of the way, but stays where she can see the person she is manipulating. Like Gil, she has the defensive staff in case anyone finds her.

Nick and Sara: They are what I like to call the speedster twins. It is very satisfying to wash them nyoom about and quickly kill any opponent in the path of their run. Typically, they start out standing next to each other at the same point, and then run on one side of the battlefield each. So they take out the opponents on the skirting of the battlefield. Sara has a cutlass while Nick has twin daggers.

Greg: He can talk to nearby spirits and ask them to help his team in the fight. With the power of this necklace that he has, he can conjure a protective invisible dome-shaped barrier around himself, which is invulnerable to any and every form of attack. Except if somebody were to dig their way up from below him of course. However, he has to stay in the same spot when he is inside this barrier, and has to deactivate it if he wants to walk (or run or whatever) somewhere else. The spirit of the person who gave him the necklace follows him everywhere, and stays by his side on the battlefield to protect him from any opponents who manage to get close. Greg has a curved cleaver in case he needs to fight.

Al: Aside from being a healer, he can freeze time. Sort of. He can freeze the movement of anybody who is coming at him, no matter how many there are. He does not wield weapons. He has wooden legs (which are enchanted to be completely painless for him) and a staff, but without the power that Gil's and Heather's have. To heal someone, he just has to touch them, for as long as it takes for the wounds to completely heal. **I was thinking about making him have something to do with necromancy, but I thought that that's too much like Greg's power.

David: He is the other healer, and is the one who kills the people that Al freezes. He just makes them fade out of existence. It is completely painless, and that way they don't have any bodies lying around the healers' area. Also, while Al heals physical injuries, David actually cures illnesses. So he has to touch his patient for as long as it takes to eradicate the infection.

The two healers typically stay in one spot, ready to head out into the battlefield if any of their teammates are injured.

Archie: He is the cryokinetic guardian of Henry, Wendy, Mandy, and Hodges, who are not combatants. He does not use weapons.

Henry: He is a blacksmith, in charge of repairing the people's weapons, and making new ones if necessary. He also makes the arrows for Gil and Bobby.

Wendy: She is an enchanter who imbues weapons with offensive powers, such as the quake and blast effect on Warrick's hammer, or the enhanced sharpness of the speedster twins' blades.

Mandy: She enchants weapons with defensive powers, such as Greg's necklace, or Gil's and Heather's staves. She is also the one who made Al's wooden legs painless.

Hodges: While Al and David are physical healers, and while Wendy enchants weapons, Hodges is the one who restores the powers of other people. He is not really drained when he does it, but it is better for him to stay still and rest while other people fight. It works exactly how Al's and David's healing does.

These five people typically stay near the healers.

Jim: He can control the weather. That also means he can summon lightning. And hailstones. And rain (creatures that are made of fire or lava are susceptible to rain). Like Catherine, he has his hands free to focus whatever he's bringing down from the sky onto wherever his target is. His cloak is pitch black in colour.

Conrad: He can clone himself; up to five clones of himself can exist at a time. It's alright if they are hurt or killed; so long as he is still alive. He wields a scythe. His cloak is a really dark grey, almost black, but not really.

Morgan: She can fly. This is not a power which requires restoration. Since she does not use wings, she can fly in rain. She uses twin swords.

Sofia: She is a shapeshifter. But she can not only turn into other creatures; she can turn into objects like a boulder or something. In such forms, she is invulnerable to like, say, a fist striking her, but if someone were to try and blow her up, she would have to turn into something else and run away. You know those fire creatures I mentioned? If she turns into one of them, she can harness their powers. Basically, she takes on the abilities of anything she turns into.

Riley: She can turn into any of her opponents, whether she has killed them herself of if they are standing right in front of her. Heather would be aware that this in fact Riley (telepathy yo), and Riley will work together with the person Heather is controlling. Unlike Sofia, while she becomes the mirror image of someone, she cannot have the skill level of the person she turns into. She herself is proficient with a club; if she turns into someone who was a swordsman, she would be wield a blade as well as them, and will continue to use her own weapon. If she turns into one of those fire creatures, she might be able to use their fire, but she doesn't have as fluent control over it as the original person. In fact, it is much safer for her to not turn into such creatures.

Ray: He has enhanced strength, which enables him to rotate his huge double-headed battle axe about his wrist above his head. And by "huge", I mean that the stick is almost as long as him, and the blades are bigger than his head. The stick is also quite thick; it has to withstand the weight of the blades, and the impact with which it is struck. By "rotate", I mean Ray is able to hold the handle at the very base, and pivot it perfectly around.

DB: Teleportation. This son of a bitch randomly popping up out of nowhere? Yeah. His weapon is a really small but especially sharp dagger, easy to conceal, and a quick and effective killer. He appears, quickly pokes his opponent, and then teleports to the next one. He can teleport anywhere within his viewing distance; he has to be able to see where he is teleporting to to go there. His cloak is silver in colour.

Finn: She is pyrokinetic. Her cloak is typically orange, yellow or red, but it can change colours to whatever fire she is wielding, which includes green, blue, purple, white, and even black fire. She does not use weapons.

Additional idea: Gil and Sara are soulmates. But they were not fated from birth; rather, their soulmate bond formed when their connection deepened. Before they met, their soulmates could have been anyone else, or they could have gone without a soulmate for the rest of their lives. Even when they met and fell in love at first sight (I'm one of those who hc that they did; ymmv), they were not yet soulmates. It was when they really got to know and understand each other implicitly and became unbreakably steadfast in their connection, of their own accord, that their soulmate bond formed. The physical manifestation of it was when their soul marks appeared; Gil has a butterfly on the right side of his neck, close to the back of his neck, and Sara has a rhinoceros beetle on the underside of her left wrist. Being soulmates, they can heal each other and restore each other's powers. The most soothing times for them to do it is when they can lie down somewhere private and hold each other close.

When their marks first appeared, everyone kept congratulating them; there was a lot of friendly teasing from Warrick, Nick, Greg and Hodges. As for themselves, they remained passive until they were in the privacy of their bedroom. They sat down on the edge of the bed, embracing and leaning their foreheads on each other's, uncontainable smiles on their faces as they had a little heart-to-heart. They did not really have to vocalise much; they had always been able to understand each other with just a few words. Then, they leant back from each other, but remained close. Sara lowered her head and slowly, reverently kissed all over Gil's mark; he closed his eyes and let her do it, enjoying how it felt, moving his head to one side so that his skin on the right of his neck was stretched flat and easier to kiss. When Sara was done, they leant back again. Gil lifted Sara's wrist to his mouth and kissed all over her mark, with as much care and adoration as she had done his.

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jaskiersvalley · 3 years ago

Text

CW major character injury (beartrap)

Splitting up for winter seemed like the most sensible idea. Geralt would head north with Ciri and, at his insistence at not leaving his muse, Jaskier. Meanwhile Regis would lead the others south, down to Touissant for a bit of downtime. Privately Geralt also hoped their infuriatingly stubborn Nilfgaardian shadow would opt to head for the warmer climates and leave them alone. It wasn't even that Geralt was worried about the man following them. Over the weeks it had become abundantly clear that he was trying to help in his own way, even fighting off a stray bandit or two to keep their tail clean. Rather, Geralt simply couldn't be bothered to exert the energy to get to know yet another person and it was another mouth to feed. Given his rather solitary nature, the fact he was travelling with a ragtag bunch was already quite exhausting.

As luck would have it, Geralt ended up with the Nilfgaardian trailing after them, heading steadily north. The weather got colder and sometimes Geralt caught the whiff of another camp fire, creeping a little closer as it that small lessening of distance would give their tail a smidgeon more warmth. It was pathetic and Geralt was more than a little pissed off. Still, at least the trip up to Kaer Morhen would lose him. Nobody was foolish enough to try and reach the old keep alone, even Witchers succumbed to the trail, a human by himself stood no chance. So either their foolhardy idiot would find shelter for the winter in the surrounding villages or he would perish.

They were at the bottom of the mountain, one last night to get some rest before they braved the slopes. Jaskier and Ciri definitely needed sleep and to give their bodies a break. Geralt was content to meditate, keeping them safe. In the distance he could hear their Nilfgaardian make camp, daring to stray as close as he ever had. Frustrated, Geralt found himself wishing that a bear would appear and deal with the annoyance for him. Alas, he couldn't hear or smell a bear in the region despite the villages mentioning that there had been some bears sighted earlier in the year. Thankfully the local hunters had taken care of them. Lost in thought, Geralt almost didn't register the sound of something snapping shut before a pained cry echoed in the forest. Immediately he was up, sword in hand while Jaskier was on his feet too, looking around in the darkness.

In the distance Geralt could hear pained hitches of breath plus a few agonised grunts. Whatever had happened, it wasn't the swift death he'd wished on the Nilfgaardian. There wasn't anyone or anything else in the vicinity so whatever had happened, the idiot did to himself. Probably stabbed himself with an arrow in the dark. Despite all his ill-wishes, Geralt couldn't bring himself to ignore someone in trouble.

"It's the Nilfgaardian. He's in trouble."

There wasn't any argument when he set off, Jaskier and Ciri behind him, treading carefully, a flaming torch lighting their way. Geralt almost wished they hadn't had the torch because then he wouldn't have had to see the scene in front of him in full colour. The Nilfgaardian was on the ground at the edge of a small clearing where he'd obviously planned on making camp. However, the stench of blood around him suggested that something hadn't gone according to plan. Walking up to him, Geralt watched as the man realised he wasn't alone and jerked upright. A beartrap kept him rooted though. His hands were bloody, even worse, his palms had been cut open from where he'd obviously tried to pry the metal from his leg. What struck Geralt though was just how young the man looked. Wide blue eyes stared up from shock paled skin, lips almost white enough to be missed. Only slightly older than Ciri, probably about twenty, Geralt couldn't fathom why someone so young was so desperate.

"You'll need to keep still while we get this off," Geralt said, crouching down. The young man tried to scramble away but aside from leaning back, he couldn't go anywhere. "Why don't we help with the pain a bit?" Hand raised, Geralt prepared to cast axii. Before he could, a rock connected with the man's temple and knocked him out cold as Jaskier stood behind him, hand wrapped around the lightly bloodied rock.

"That will keep him still and out of it," he declared. "It was the kindest thing."

"Or you could have let me use axii to keep him calm." Geralt tipped the man's head to the side to check how badly the rock had split his skin. It was going to give him quite the bruise, possibly a black eye and one hell of a headache. Still, it did made life easier and Geralt pried the trap off. It had snapped in bone deep, probably even broke his leg. Humans were fragile like that and the trap was meant for a bear. Sighing, Geralt looked around the miserable excuse of a half made camp. It screamed of skills learned on the fly, for the sole purpose of survival rather than something practiced in safety before being put into reality. "Grab his things. We'll head up to Kaer Morhen tomorrow and take him with us."

They had more in the way of bandages with them and, while the man was unconscious, Geralt did his best to clean the wounds, splint the leg and bandage it as well as the cuts on his hands. There wasn't much to be done for the headache of the future though.

In the morning Geralt roused from his meditation to find a pair of blue eyes staring at him.

"You going to make an example of me and kill me?" The accent was harsh despite the soft voice. It wasn't what Geralt had expected coming out of the man's mouth.

"Yeah, I wasted all the bandages on you just for that. Name's Geralt."

"Cahir Mawr Dyrryn aep Ceallach."

"Quite the mouthful. Cahir alright with you?" The nod was answer enough and Geralt set about getting breakfast ready. It was only thanks to the events of the previous night that he kept an eye out for more beartraps and avoided falling victim to one himself. He set it off with a stick and winced as it splintered under the metal jaws.

Despite their best efforts, by the time they'd loaded Cahir onto the cart strapped to Roach, his cheeks were flushed with fever and Geralt could smell the sickness on him. The valiant effort to get to know his new travelling companions better was foiled by the way Cahir kept drifting off, a combination of sickness and from the hit to the head. When he woke, it was only Jaskier's quick grab to the back of his shirt that kept Cahir on the cart as he threw up over the side.

It wasn't looking good. The first night they stopped, Geralt helped rebandage Cahir's injured leg. As the cloth fell away, it became amply evident that infection had thoroughly set in. The cuts were an angry red without defined edges to the inflammation while the wounds themselves were puckered with puss.

"It's fine," Cahir tried to reassure with a wobbly smile. "I've survived worse." Which may have been true but he'd probably also been in a place with better medical supplies. The gnarly scar below his collarbone and through to his back attested to his words but Geralt didn't think it was caused by an old, rusty beartrap. If they didn't make it to Kaer Morhen soon then no amount of surviving worse injuries was going to mean anything.

Come next morning Cahir was no longer quite so chirpy. He was still and silent on the cart, Ciri sat next to him and sometimes gesturing for Geralt to look, worried that Cahir had stopped breathing. He hadn't but his deathly pale complexion wasn't giving Geralt much hope. They were still at least a day and a half out from Kaer Morhen, maybe even two because of the additional weight on the cart.

A fever peaked and fell in cycles, each time Geralt hoped it would be the last but, before long, he reached to feel Cahir's skin and winced at how hot to the touch it felt once more.

By the time they made it up to Kaer Morhen, Geralt feared it would be just a corpse for a funeral pyre that they'd be dragging in. By some miracle it wasn't. With Eskel's help he pulled Cahir off the cart, floppy as unresponsive as he was, there was still air in his lungs and an erratic heartbeat in his chest.

"What did you bring us this time?" Lambert teased before getting a better look and his grin turned into a frown. "Well shit. I'll get Vesemir."

It took three days before Cahir was declared out of immediate danger. Geralt spent a lot of it down in the infirmary, sitting next to him. The others could start Ciri's training and Jaskier was no doubt pleased to get to spend time with Eskel again. It left Geralt in the quiet, watching over someone who he had convinced himself he hated. But this wasn't the person he'd conjured up in his mind. Barely older than Jaskier had been when they met, Cahir didn't look like he had any youthful optimism or naivety.

"I'm sorry." Geralt murmured, watching as Cahir slept, breath a little less thready. He should have been better. Shouldn't have judged, not when he was on the other end of so much of it himself.

By the time Cahir roused, everyone had settled into their winter routine. Ciri trained most days, reading tomes Vesemir left her when it got too cold for the outside obstacle course. It left Geralt free to sit with Cahir, watching as glazed eyes opened, unseeing. The worst thing was, not once did Cahir cry out for someone or reach for an invisible source of comfort. In all his years Geralt rarely found someone so lonely. Even Lambert, in his training days, had called out for his mother and, of late, for Aiden. It was a struggle to believe Cahir had nobody.

"Why?" The first word from cracked dry lips and Geralt jumped. He grabbed a wet rag and dabbed it against Cahir's lips, squeezing a little water into his mouth.

"Why what?" There were a lot of questions Cahir could have and Geralt wasn't a mind reader. He startled when a weak hand clasped around his wrist, keeping his hand close. It felt all too natural to take the rag in his other hand so he could cup Cahir's sunken cheek.

"You stayed."

Something told Geralt this wasn't something Cahir had encountered before and it broke his heart. Why nobody would stick around for him was baffling. Even a Witcher had more people looking out for him, he was certain. He cleared his throat, trying to think about why he stayed. It was true, he had no reason to. "I wanted to."

The soft 'oh' from Cahir pulled at something in his chest. He let Cahir tangle their fingers together shyly, looking up at him from the infirmary bed with so much awe and gratitude, Geralt didn't know what to do with it. So he sat back down into his chair and kept holding Cahir's hand. There was a lot of talking, of getting to know each other in their future. But, for now, Geralt was content to offer whatever comfort he could, vowing to be better than all those who had come before him.

#cahir/geralt #geralt of rivia #cahir mawr dyffryn aep ceallach #jaskier #cirilla fiona elen riannon #cw: major character injury #tldr: cahir is injured and taken to kaer morhen

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bubbletimestories · 4 years ago

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Like a balm on frozen wounds (Bucky x Hydra nurse reader)

First of all, thank you @harlekin6 for the original idea. I'm sure it doesn't suits what you had in mind but I loved the idea of an HYDRA nurse taking care of Bucky so...thank you and lot of kisses.

Summary : What if you were an HYDRA nurse, taking care of Bucky as they try to turn him into a weapon ? What if you were his only spark of light and warmth in the painful darkness ?

Warning : maybe blood, pain, mention of torture, manipulation

Themes : hurt Bucky, HYDRA, healing, torture, comfort, love

*******************************

The ambient humidity makes the walls ooze, giving the impression that they are dripping with black, foul-smelling blood. The hour of glory is far away, the Führer is dead and they had to flee, hide far away in the mountains while waiting for less gloomy hours. In the stench of failed machinations and scientific manipulations, HYDRA continues its experiments in the hope of being ready for a new golden age. Screams tear the silence, an agony that never seems to end even though the person strapped to the table is more dead than alive. His forehead is dripping with sweat, his bones are burning, and his gaze is veiled and haggard like that of an ox at the slaughterhouse. Around him, men in soiled blouses talk, put away their instruments. It is still a failure, it will be necessary to do it again. The same scene seems to repeat itself over and over again and the progress is so slight ... With a weary gesture, a man asks guards to transport the patient to his room, they clean the fluids on the icy tiles, they drag the young man in his dark cell, the rusty door of which is slammed, not without a frail figure having slipped inside. The prisoner must be treated well or there will be no other experience.

The spectacle is more heartbreaking with each visit, the once-vigorous body slumped against the wall, silent and listless. Gently, you wipe the wet forehead, the drool on his chin and above all, you speak to him in a low voice, almost caressing like a lullaby. At first, he refused your presence, being cold and ironic in front of a HYDRA nurse. It took a while for him to accept that you were a prisoner too, refusing your attempts at treatment even though he had never gone too, never violent. You remain a woman and he a gentleman. At least he was. Now the electroshock has burned his humanity, destroyed his sanity even though he still happens to be himself again when calm returns, which he can think a bit. At such times, he repeats his registration number, random words or even first names: Steve, Rebecca... These moments are shorter and shorter, more and more rare but still present. You are now the only one who can hear James B. Barnes and not an empty shell.

"... er ... newspapers ... shoes ... shoes ..."

The prisoner rolls his eyes and mumbles in a broken voice, gradually regaining his foothold in reality after locking himself in to avoid the pain. You suppress a painful sigh as you help him change position. As delicately as possible, you heal his wounds, your eyes moist as every time you see him in this state. A gleam passes through the tired blue eyes and James waves his one arm, too weak to touch you.

- Y/N... Y/N...

- Yes, it's me, Mr. Barnes, it's me. Don't worry, you are safe for now.

A shiver runs through the young man as his face seems to express a little relief, he lets himself go against your hand as you heal his temples. You are not allowed to call him by his real name, you are forbidden to speak to him but whatever, you are not afraid of dying. All that matters to you is to stay close to him, to comfort him. You are the only glimmer of hope and life in the perpetual fog of his existence. Your hand stops for a moment on his unshaven cheek, under your fingers you can feel his face, emaciated by hunger and suffering.

"I'm gonna take care of you, James, I'm there. Don't worry, rest if you can. I won't leave."

No one will be looking for you for hours, you can stay hiding here with the patient, speak quietly to him to chase away the darkness a little. But first, he has to eat, even if it's an infamous cold porridge. With any luck, no rat will have had time to taste it. Making sure James is seated, you pick up the spoon and help him bring it to his mouth, guiding his heavy, aching hand. If they continue to be so violent, he will soon no longer be able to feed himself, you will have to help him. HYDRA doesn’t understand anything, it is just a bunch of brutal and cruel animals. Slowly, very slowly, Bucky comes to his senses a little, eats with more ease even if he remains leaning against you to enjoy your warmth. The idea of kissing you crosses his mind but he still feels too weak right now. His stump hurts, it took all your energy to keep him from succumbing to the fever caused by the infection. You know the doctors have plans, they want to put a prosthesis on him, but as long as he's not a little more docile, it's impossible. One day he will crush them all under his fist.

- Dance... me...

- Promise, when you'll feel better. We'll go to dance.

Your voice shakes a bit, as always when he says he would like to dance with you. When he'll be free, he's gonna thank you, be a charming man like he used to be. Obviously, his thoughts are not that clear but it doesn't matter. Feelings remain. Exhausted, his eyes closed and he slowly falls on your lap to enjoy a little bit of peace, a few hours of rest. As always, you walk with the movement, a cool hand on his forehead as you part the long brown brands to clear his face. Sometimes you happen to hum to help him fall asleep, you love more than anything to see James's face relax as he sinks into unconsciousness and oblivion. In your arms he can taste a little peace and that's all that matters.

"Sleep, sweet soldier. You are safe with me."

He looks much younger when he is enveloped in sleep, sometimes you forget he's only in his twenties. All these tortures, these sessions of electroshock to break, it will end up killing him or turning him into a powerless vegetable. HYDRA scientists are fools, as if sheer violence can produce a result. You know that human beings need comfort, to feel safe. You have to be able to tame an animal other than with a whip. Governing by fear leads to rebellion sooner or later. But ruling from the heart is a more subtle game that pays bigger dividends.

"I'm gonna take care of you, don't worry ..."

Admittedly, James' enslavement produces faster results now that he is only a shadow of himself than if he had had all of his mental and physical faculties. The poor man is in so much pain that he is no longer able to think, not really. Slipping you next to him, caressing his bruised soul is extremely easy, your gentleness creates a flagrant contrast with the tortures of HYDRA, like a balm on burns. He may already whisper your name in his sleep, immediately relaxing upon contact with you. They want to break the soldier, you have already figured out how to reshape him into a more submissive being.

Footsteps are being heard outside, it is time for you to slip away so as not to arouse suspicion. You kiss tenderly the dry mouth of the young man and you feel him respond to your kiss, weakly but with a sigh of pleasure. Whatever they do with him, you know that what you have implanted is deeper, more undetectable. No violence, no key words or manual of instructions. So you come out of the cell with a smile, knowing full well that you will see him again soon. Day after day, you are there to comfort him, to rock him with sweet words by telling him that he is safe with you, that you are going to take care of him. Gratitude mixes with docile love, how could it be otherwise? You are his whole universe, his light in the frozen darkness.

As time goes by, HYDRA's haphazard method begins to bear fruit and they finally get the weapon they dreamed of. Of course, the Winter Soldier still gets startled, wants to attack his masters but he is gentle as a lamb under your hand, hugging you, kissing your lips devoutly, visiting your body like a sacred temple. It doesn't matter if they put him in a box while waiting for him to serve the interests of some madman, you know he will wake up just as amorous and docile and that you will be there to welcome him, whatever the time.

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #fic #HYDRA #manipulation #comfort

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winchesterxxi · 4 years ago

Text

Thank God for Girls (Din Djarin x Reader)

Rating: M (Mature)

Type: Smut

Request: “Heyy, I was wondering if you could do anything based on the song Thank God for Girls by Weezer? 😊 just have fun with it ❤️❤️”

Word Count: 856

Warnings: Helmet removal(is that a warning...?) Smut (a hell tone of teasing, dom!reader)

A/N: I literally had to read the lyrics to this song like 10 times until I finally found a good storyline that’d fit with it; have to say the first time I read/listened to it I was like ????? but the more I read the more my lenny face grew and we ended up with this!

MASTERPOST | REQUEST HERE | KO-FI

✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸

He’d always go through with his hunts - that’s something you admired about him: how he’d never missed a single fugitive. He’d always bring the bastards in chuckles and throw them in carbonite without a word. He was known as one of the most feared hunters of the galaxy but you only truly started to understand why once you got on board with him.

Flying from planet to planet, navigating the hyperspace, he’d go on mission after mission, most often leaving you back in the Crest to look after the kid, sometimes for days at a time.

And even if you are victorious you may receive many cuts, bruises, and scrapes And you will require band aids and antiseptic ointments And tender loving kisses on your stab wounds and when you come home

But whenever he walked through that door, you would immediately go to the fresher and get the first aid kit out knowing fully well that there would be some cuts that needed stitching and some bruises that needed taking care of, because there was only so much the beskar armor could protect him from.

His heavy steps would announce his arrival at the fresher’s door and you’d let him step in, sitting him on top of the toilet, stepping in between his legs and starting to dispose of the beskar plates, one by one.

She will be there waiting for you with a fire in her eyes

And you know exactly how this is going to end as soon as you take of his crotch plate. This happened every single time. He’d go on said hunts for days and not even once get off, since he’s met you there’s really been no reason to anymore and it never felt right with him: your hand feels much better than his.

And you knew how needy he was every since you and him first started to get intimate. No feelings whatsoever. Just out of pure need to release sexual tension.

She’s so big She’s so strong She’s so energetic in her sweaty overalls Thank God for girls

After you carefully remove his helmet, he wastes no time before pulling in close through the waist and burying his face in between your breasts, over the overalls in which you’d been in the whole day while managing between taking care of the kid and fixing some electrical issues in the ship’s control panel.

“Din...” you mumble, tugging at his sweaty curls. He hums in response, not moving his head away from the warm spot it found in your chest. “These overalls are filthy and I still need to take care of your cuts, I’d really appreciate that you didn’t get them infected.”

I'm so glad I got a girl to think of even though she isn't mine I think about her all the day and all the night it's enough to know that she's alive

“Let them.” He finally looks up, lust-tinted brown eyes meeting yours as he tugs your overall straps down. “I’ve thought about this moment the whole day.”

“Careful, Din. You might be falling in love.” you chuckle as his hands tug at the waist part of your overalls before pulling them down, until they pool around your ankles and you are left standing in front of him in only your undershirt and panties.

“Not yet. I just wanted to fuck you.”

She says I give her sweaty palms she almost had a heart attack

“So while I was here worrying about whether or not you’d come back alive, all you thought about was fucking me?” your smile was short lived as he once again tugged you close to his body, this time letting his breath wonder just below your belly button, causing a gasp to escape your lips.

“That and other things...” He mumbled against the skin on your hipbones, and at this point the thought of whether Grogu was still sleeping or if he could walk in on the both of you was the last thing on your mind.

The truth is that I’m just as scared I don’t know how to act I wish that I could get to know her better

“Such as?...” you ask suggestively, enjoying the wet trails he is leaving on your lower stomach while tracing his fingers over the pantyline that rested against your thighs.

“Your pretty mouth around my cock...” you hum in response, pulling his face away from your heat with both your hands before bowing your head down and connecting your lips with his in a slow and intoxicating kiss.

I’m levitating like a magnet turned the wrong way around I’m like an Indian Fakir tryna’ meditate on a bed of nails with my pants pulled down

Din’s head is somewhere else, completely drunk on your touch making him forget the wounds that adorn his face and body.

You kneel down between his legs, freeing his erection from the strains of the protective fabric, it immediately bouncing to rest against his stomach.

“No underwear...” you bite your lip, unconsciously liking your lips, before reaching for his length and licking a stripe from bottom to top, relishing his familiar taste, only brushing the head with the tip of your tongue. His hips buckle slightly and you pull away.

“I’m gonna make you beg for it.”

Thank God for girls On your reckoning day You better bow down and pray

#din djarin x reader #din djarin #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #pedro pascal x reader #smut #winchesterxxi #star wars

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astrowithkaro · 3 years ago

Note

Hello dear! I hope you have started your week in the best way possible. Can I ask you, for the language of Birthdays, to analyze 19th October? Thank you for your work, I love it!

Language Of Birthdays: October 19 - Libra

[You can find the rest of the series here; or check out my masterlist]

The Day Of The Projector

Those born on October 19 are independent, spirited and outspoken people who bring liveliness to their surroundings. They are, however, highly opinionated and stubborn in their approach to life. Because of their contentious nature they not only love to partake in competition, but also may unfortunately bring strife and conflict wherever they go. A constant theme in their life is revealing hidden truths, and therefore they have great dislike for ulterior motives, subtle emotional manipulations and punishment through silence. They tend to be explosive when angry, but after the storm has passed they generally do not hold grudges and are open to reconciliations. Perhaps the driving force behind their provocative nature is their desire, as mentioned above, to bring things to light, or better yet to shine the light of truth on the object of their interest.

Less highly evolved individuals born on October 19 can be terribly afraid of having the truth about themselves exposed. In this respect they can grow very defensive, even paranoid, in their compulsion to hide from public scrutiny. They can however develop themselves by gradually dropping these defences until at a moment of personal triumph they stand fully revealed without fear or shame, much like someone afraid of heights who finally manages to scale the highest peak. In this respect their triumph over shyness or introversion would be much greater than for the average person.

Another possibility for October 19 people is to drop out of sight, better themselves and their skills, and then reemerge more successful than before. The only danger here is that while cloistered they may stagnate or get involved in a lifestyle or family situation where they in fact never reemerge at all. October 19 people generally make good friends and faithful family members, but because they are free-spirited may resent attempts to tie them down. Indeed, they can become rebellious if pushed to commit themselves. They can also become extremely critical of those close to them, and sometimes their harsh words wound far deeper than they imagine, since their opinions carry great weight.

October 19 people must make an effort to break down their defence reactions, particularly regarding their motives and actions. They must also avoid possessiveness over loved ones, for example, demanding that their status be "best friend" and not just "good friend." Accepting a secondary position or supporting role on occasion, even coming to enjoy it, is a great step in the spiritual development of those born on this day.

Strengths:

Insistent

Independent

Lively

Weaknesses:

Argumentative

Disturbing

Possessive

Advice

Those born on October 19 must be careful about acquiring injuries due to their competitive nature. Their contentiousness can arouse hostility in others, which ultimately may prove dangerous to them not only in physical but also psychical terms. Those born on this day are very vibrational, easily disturbed by a nasty look or unkind word. Their threshold for nervous irritation is low. causing them to react sensitively to things around them, and thus allergies may prove to be a problem. October 19 diets should be carefully controlled, particularly in regard to dairy, fats and sweets. Competitively oriented, even contact sports may be attractive to October 19 people, but walking and swimming are more appropriate for those no longer young. October 19 women must beware of bladder infections and men of prostate problems.

Learn the value of silence

Occasionally, let your actions speak for themselves

Balance your desire to be independent with your need tor companionship

Don't assume that people will always forgive you

Thank you so much for your submission and you're more than welcome to send in more! I hope this resonated with you <3

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thejosh1980 · 3 years ago

Text

Little Wing

(Trigger warning: animal/pet death)

Today, right now, I am sat at the spot where Mijo felt his last sunrise, just 24 hours ago.

He was 28 weeks old, he spent 20 of those weeks with me, and my family. He was my family. He was thrust upon me by my wife and mum, who knew Mijo would be the kind of birthday present I'd want, but could never ask for.

When he arrived he was unexpected. Straight from the car, into my bedroom, onto my lap, what a surprise, it was love at first sight. Those eyes, that tail, that round belly, the fur, I was all in. I had to say goodbye to 4 beautiful pets whom I loved dearly when I left Germany, so then and there I made a quiet, whisper promise to Mijo;

“I'll never ever leave you”...

We began like any other Daddy and cat story, playing, eating, talking to each other. We may have made a few messes on the bed learning to potty train, but I couldn't really fault him, he was perfect. He loved cuddles, got under our feet all the time, talked to us a lot and wanted to be a part of everything happening around the house.

He meowed very loudly too. Sometimes he'd meow from the next room sounding lost and worried. That's when I started to realized something was very different about him. It took about 2 weeks, but then I realized, he was totally deaf!!!! No vacuum cleaner, loud bangs, claps, or door slams could get his attention. When he meowed loudly, it was either because he had to, to feel himself meowing in his head, or he was missing us and could smell us, but not hear us in the next room. I had never had a cat who couldn't hear me call their name, so this was going to be a challenge.

Mijo accepted that challenge...

In a short time I figured out how to clicker train him, using a torch. I love training cats. Most folks think it's impossible, but I've taught cats to fetch, sit and come on command in the past.... So, pretty soon I had him jumping up, over and across chairs and tables on cue. I also learnt a way to “call” him; assuming he could see me, if I knelt down and tapped my leg, he'd come a running. Every time. We had it all figured out.

Grab a harness and a lead, and off we go, walking around the garden. This wasn't a cat, this was a dog. He had very little fear, I mean, he couldn't even hear the birds making a racket or the car driving by or the dog barking next door. He was fixated on me.

I bought him a blow up boat, to use in the pool, to help him get used to floating on water. It was a huge boat for his little size, but he'd hop in, and I'd “treat” him while he got used to the motion. The plan was to build him up to a real boat, or canoe or SUP. I could imagine him walking on water.

He was also great with other cats, so I could take him to visit his cousin and they'd play all day (if we'd let them). He'd come with me to visit other family and then... well, then the real adventures started. Mijo and I could go to the river, the park and the beach. We also went for coffee at the busiest part in the local village, and he took it all in his stride. We took bike rides too, as he sat in a special backpack I had for him. I could hold him while skateboarding or put him on my shoulder as I walked around. He was chill, happy to see and smell his silent world.

When Alex or I came home, and he'd be in the bedroom snoozing or gazing out the window, we could come in, take off our shoes, put our stuff down, maybe run to the loo, then we could snuggle up with him, cause he hadn't heard us arrive. He would just be waiting... He'd just wait for someone to step close enough, blow on his ear, feel a vibration and then he'd meow a big BIG hello, purr and snuggle. He was a no pressure cat... But always ready for hugs and pats.

Besides being deaf, he just didn't seem like any other cat I'd had or even met...

But isn't the way it is with all pets? They're all unique.

He loved Alex. He always had a hard decision between my lap and hers, or sleeping close to one or the other. We had a son to take care of, to love and to enjoy. At the beginning, Alex wasn't sure about having a cat, she'd pretty much always been a dog person, but it didn't take long for Mijo to wrap her around his little paw. She was hooked.

We thought he was going to be grow up to become a big boy. You know, Maine Coon sized 5-6 or maybe 7 kilo. We had high hopes for a dog-like cat, big enough to take on the world. We wanted to show him the world too.

After he had his snip (desexing) in mid March, he wasn't very well, and it really traumatized all of us, we just weren't sure why he took it so badly. He was in a lot of pain, even though the operation itself was quick and really good, with no issues. He would spend the day, in his “bread loaf” position, with his nose to the ground. It was like he was conserving all his energy for when we came home or wanted his attention.

Eventually, after a few weeks he bounced back, back to being his usual self, for a while. He actually lost a lot of fur during this time, most likely due to a reaction to the antibiotics and pain killers. Where his collar and harness were, he lost all his hair. It only took a few days, a bit too quick to realize what was going on, he rarely wore the collar or harness after that. It meant we sometimes lost him in the house without his bell on to tell which room he was in, so I'd be running around turning on and off the lights to get his attention and a meow.

It was our fun game of “Mijo Polo”.

We had noticed he wasn't eating as much, and he wasn't as playful. In fact, all his toys were being ignored, and he rarely chased anything we teased him with. When we took him for playtime with his cousin, he wouldn't last as long play fighting. Something was up, we thought he'd bounce back by now.

Overall, he was a very chilled cat, having just had an operation and now with, ringworm, a tooth problem (one adult tooth was causing him problems and needed to be pulled) maybe that was why he wasn't too interested in food. Surely it wasn't bacteria, an infection or a virus in his blood.

In early May, Mijo developed ringworm, which, by the way, isn't a worm but rather a fungal infection. The vet already had us on anti fungal cream day and night. It's very unusual to get ringworm; it's all around us, but a strong immune system, actually, a decent immune system, would fight off any infection naturally. Cats generally just lick it all off their fur. Humans sometimes get it, from a scratch or a wound. It's in the soil, it's in the air.

When we got the treatment for the ringworm, we also gave him an appetite stimulant, to encourage him to eat, but it made little difference. As nothing changed, we went back to the vet a few days later, and did a hypothyroidism test; the results were borderline.

What could be going on?

At the time of his desexing operation, he was 1.7 kilos, a week later he was down to 1.5 and eventually 1.45 kilo. His body was growing a little, but his muscle and fat wasn't.

We talked to the vet and decided, even though his ringworm was infectious, the tooth had to go, sooner rather than later. It seemed logical that it was his biggest barrier to fulfilling his dietary requirements and his well being. We wanted him fattening up, growing up, and being his usual self again, ASAP. We needed to get him back on track towards good health, enough was enough.

On Monday 17th May I dropped the little guy off at the vet for the day. A check up and a tooth pull.

Before any cat gets an anesthetic, they run a simple blood test to determine if the cat is well enough. During the day we got a call that the operation couldn't happen, and that he'd have to stay in over night or longer, with meds to help him, because his red cell blood count was low. 10%. Most cats need around 40%, if there's any complication with the tooth pull, his blood may not clot.

It's official, he was very unwell.

I was at school when I got the news. I was in shock. Our little boy was that unwell? But he does eat (a little), he does walk on the lead with me, he's eating his treats... was he that unwell?

Suddenly we had to decide on some expensive tests to figure out what was wrong with him. I mean, the red blood cells were being eaten up by the white ones, but why?? We arranged the suggested tests and they kept him in over night.

I was very distraught. How can my little guy be so unwell yet behave well? With that blood count, he shouldn't be able to walk, he should be so lethargic that he can't keep his head up!! He should be in a coma.

All in all, theoretically, he should be dead.

So was it dwarfism, hypothyroidism, mycoplasma??? And and and?? Tests... Blood being taken.. Our boy in the vet over night, alone, worried, scared??? Will he make it through the night? I didn't sleep well...

On Tuesday afternoon the vet let us bring him home. His blood level was down to 9.1%. The idea was that, at least at home he'd have cuddles and love, and that might help his immune system. He was lethargic but not completely terrible. I would need to bring him in on Wednesday for another blood test, to see how he was doing.

On Wednesday, it didn't go well, Mijo had gone from 9 to 8.1% blood level. It was now becoming almost impossible to get any blood out of him. I saw how difficult it was 2 weeks earlier when he had the hypothyroid test, they had to try on both legs and his neck to get a half mil of blood! He was a champ and barely complained. But now, I couldn't imagine the pain he went through with even less blood.

He's been that sick for how long?? Why hadn't we noticed?

We were panicking.

The vet suggested we meet with a mature, more experienced doc, on Thursday. We should be able to figure something out, we had to. Each day = less blood = more chance of...

Well, I am a hopeful guy. I realize, I live on hope. I spent years hoping certain people in my life would change, or love me in a way that I feel some love. I always hope things will change for the better. I don't know why, but it's ingrained in me to feel hopelessness or hope... I think I'm never in the middle... or is that called acceptance? OK, maybe I do feel that too, eventually... But it takes a long long time...

I have videos of Mijo on Thursday 20th, he's cleaning himself in the sun, meowing and purring, happy to see me, walking around the garden with me. Full of life and adventure.

At lunch time, Mijo and I go to the vet. He is his usual cute self, always curious at the vets, and now there's a the new guy he's meeting, what an adventure.

Before he opens the cat box he said something along the lines of “Well, because his blood levels are so low, today is really about deciding if he goes to heaven or not...” I'm not sure, but I know I heard words like “heaven” and “euthanasia” early on in the consultation. Shock was setting in. I barely heard anything else he said, luckily we had Alex on the speaker phone.

Turns out, not only is our little guy deaf, he's an anomaly.

Any cat with 8.1% should be comatose. They should barely be able to walk. They certainly can't pee or poo without help and don't drink or eat much. Mijo came out of his box and sniffed around, was alert and ready to meet the new guy!!

The vet was stumped. He had never seen this before, in over 30 years...

We didn't know he was so sick, because, he was, overall, a well behaved cat. His weight he lost, sure, but he was now at least stable. He was eating, it just took a lot of creativity sometimes to spark his interest (mostly warming up meals and giving him treats).

The vet tried to explain to me, but I'm sure Alex on the phone understood it clearly, that we had very little time, well, no time. We had 3 choices that day. Go to a specialist an hour's drive away, give Mijo steroids and hope he had mycoplasma or Immune mediated hemolytic anemia (IMHA) or, lastly, euthanasia.

Wait???? What does that even mean??

The specialist would give him a blood transfusion, and some special custom drugs which should help him. The vet said it could cost in the 10s of thousands, and may help Mijo for a few weeks, but it's not a solution that we are sure would be long term or not.

Giving Mijo steroids would give him a fighting chance, or not... Basically it could cure or kill him. Because we aren't sure what is the cause of the low blood count, it could be IMHA, mycoplasma or something else, but it's a best educated guess at this rate. If it is the wrong choice, he may die quicker than expected.

Euthanasia, no explanation needed.

We decided on steroids. According to the vet, there was a 50/50 chance it would work. If the cause of the blood cells killing off each other was for or against steroids, we'd know soon enough. Still shocked I tried to understand it all. I'm so grateful Alex was on the line and knows this stuff through experience and study.

The idea of taking Mijo an hour's drive north to the specialist, to a cubicle, a place where we may not be with him 24/7, on the off chance that he wouldn't make it and die alone, we couldn't fathom that.

Mijo took the steroid injection like a champ, he always did injections well. He was given some antibiotics to also help. The vet said, that by Saturday we'll know if it was the right decision. We'd know if he would be getting better...

It was decided that on Monday 24th we'd go back in for a blood test to actually see if the steroids were working (cause apparently one can't really tell with Mijo's behavior, the cheeky monkey).

Mijo and I came home, and well, he ate, he was purring, sitting on my lap. The usual deal. When I went out to get the washing in, he tried to go out too, something we, as parents, have been very protective about. He doesn't go out alone, he doesn't go out without a lead or a bell. He's not an easy cat to find if he runs off, not that he has ever tried. He deaf, he can't hear cars or other dangers out there.

I promised him I'd take him out to that side of the house/garden that afternoon...

So we did, we went out, we sat down, he explored. He was well, good, better, best. He was my boy. He trusted me, I trusted him. I'm always amazed how well he walks by my side, like a dog, with loose leash... Taking my steps as cues when to walk, and when to stop.

We also met the neighbor's dog, which was a first, both were not really interested in each other... But still, Mijo knew there's a lot to live for...

Overnight he went great... Woke up with him on my chest relaxing waiting for me to get up and feed him, luckily I have a wife who had to get up for work at that moment. I remember she sang him a lullaby and held him like a baby. It was really sweet to see how much love they had for each other. Rock-a-bye Mijo...

We wanted to him feel as much love as we could. We felt that, if the steroids and antibiotics were doing their part, and we did ours, there's nothing he can't beat. And he sure felt the love...

I held him while doing some singing exercises, close to my chest. It was something we hadn't done before, and he purred. He'd look up and meow every time I stopped making vibrations. He felt it, I felt it, it was a connection.

We spent a lot of time, reading, relaxing and sitting on laps. Alex and I cuddled him, told him we loved him. He was really fighting. He was eating. He was a little more playful than in recent weeks. He wanted to live. We could feel it...

He went from eating half a packet to 1.5 packets a day, plus dry food. He always wanted treats, and I was always glad to oblige.

By Saturday he was wonder cat! Kneading... Purring... Chasing toys... Eager to hang out...

We'd overcome the problem! He was getting better. There's fight, love and life left in him. He was amazing. If it hadn't been for his ringworm (which was also healing very very well) I'd say he was perfect, especially once he put on another few grams...

We had 4 awesome days, loads of energy and love. He was never alone in the house, and rarely alone in a room. We wanted him to know, to feel, that we loved him so deeply and that all we want was him in our life, for adventures and cuddles.

On Monday morning, his appetite went down... He didn't really eat much...

We all left for the day, work and school. I think we were all worried, but he'd been so good and improved so so much, that we were sure he'd be fine. We have the blood test booked for the afternoon, I'm sure he'll pep up by then. The injection could be wearing off too...

Mijo and I went in to the vet, and his test came back at 14%!!! Damn, that's 6 points!! The vet expected 3 to be a big improvement. In fact, if he had 3 or less, euthanasia may have been the only option... Happy days! He was well. He's going to live! He'll be fine.

We're not out of the woods yet, but we are in the right direction.

All that love we lavished on him, not just in the past days, but the past 4 months. The adventures, the friends he'd made (both human and animal) the smells and sights he'd seen, the vibrations he felt, it was all coming together... He was a fighter with a lot of love to give...

We were over joyed. Really, I couldn't have been happier when I got the results. I gave a “whoop” and threw my fist in the air (I've never done that before in my life!).

We changed to tablet form steroids, as they'll be better long term, keep up the antibiotics and off we go...

But we all know, that often people and animals, when they know they are dying, they give it one last shot. And that was it... We didn't realize until Wednesday, that he wasn't actually going to get better...

Mijo stopped grooming himself, he slowly ate less and less... He became more and more lethargic, he started to sit in the “bread loaf” position with his nose on the ground, as he did after the snip, resting. We thought it was the change in steroids, and as I was at school and the girls at work, we just kept thinking he'd pep up eventually.

When I left for school Wednesday morning, he was alert, but lethargic. When I came home early to check on him, he had really changed again.

His belly was a little bloated, but he had hardly eaten. He had trouble walking, it seemed like it was a mix of muscle degradation/pain and confusion. His meowing changed to a high pitch cry, similar to that of a young kitten. He also stopped eating, he wouldn't even touch any of his tasty treats. He searched for any bit of sun to stand in, but he was looking so uncomfortable, his posture had changed, half sitting, half standing. I was grateful, when I carried him to his water bowl, that he drank a lot. He also went to the toilet, I held his tail so he didn't make a mess on himself.

We spent the afternoon outside, as the sun started to set. He loved the sun, I wanted him to feel warmth... I held him, talked to him. I don't know now many times I asked him to please hold on, please fight and that I loved him. He looked more comfortable in the sun.

I did film us walking around the pool. I am forever grateful for technology, so that I could just put my phone down, touch a button and record a moment. As we walked and talked, oblivious to the camera, I recognized a change in his breathing... I may have missed it previously, but for sure, his breath was becoming more and more labored. Every 3 or 4 breaths, he just had to try harder... His eyes were changing too... But I was sure he could recognize me, the way the vibrations from my chest reached his body and the way I smell. He would react from time to time, shifting or clawing at me.

He often touched my chest with his paw. Reaching out...

Mum and I went to the vet late Wednesday afternoon, the earliest we could. I explained it must be the change of steroids. No, it wasn't. They were the same type, it was just that he wasn't able to fight anymore. We discussed the specialist, called them and made a plan to go in first thing in the morning. I arranged for a friend to come with me, and Thursday morning bright and early, we were going up to get Mijo cured. Transfusion, drugs, you name it, we were going to do it. We had to, we told him we'd make him better.

There and then, Alex and I decided to trade in our honeymoon, you know from the wedding we had 13 months ago and still haven't done the traditional thing of a week or two away somewhere. We decided the money we had aside for that, would go to Mijo's specialist costs, because without Mijo, our honeymoon, whatever and whenever we decide to do it, wouldn't be worth doing, if he wasn't around.

I made a firm plan on how to help him through the night. We would hold him in shifts... All 3 of us... If one showered, the other held him. Dinner time, we shared the responsibility, not that we ate much anyhow. We cuddled, we talked, we purred, I would blow gently on his head... He was feeling love and he was fighting...

Because he hadn't eaten all day, we decided to try feeding him with a syringe, with success. With the tablets we were putting into his stomach, I felt he needed something else down there too... With a small syringe, he took it well, lapping up a tasty liquid treat.

When it was bed time, we put pillows around the bed, incase he fell, because he was very wobbly on his feet. He would cry out at random times, possibly from pain, but I think more from confusion. He sometimes wanted to get away from us, as we know, pets know when it's time and usually disappear, isolate.

We barely slept. I managed about 3 hours... But it was tough.. He wouldn't stay still, and eventually we put him in his little bed, near our bed... Of course he didn't stay there long.

At 4am I heard him crying... I found him under the bed... Alex woke up too... His breathing had changed a lot... Every breath was labored. He wasn't getting enough oxygen.

I laid on my back, and Mijo laid on my chest. This was how it often was, especially when I was reading... We did that until around 7am... Alex taking turns, holding him, talking to him, loving him. Mijo could barely hold himself up, he just laid in our arms... Breathing... His eyes began to glaze over...

We discussed our options, we felt the specialist was now a long shot. We didn't think he'd make the drive, he was near the end. Our little man had little fight left... And we wouldn't forgive ourselves for him dying in a foreign place. There were a lot of tears and back and forwards, including mum coming in for cuddles with the little guy at 5am...

Alex called the emergency vet, and we planned to go in at 8:30... Mijo's time had come...

When the sun comes up, if the blind is open in our bedroom, the sun shines right on through to Alex in bed, Mijo was in her arms, while she drank coffee as the sun rose.

Sometime later I took the little guy out to the pool, where we walked and talked, cuddled and loved, around and around, in the morning sun. I talked to him about all the adventures we had, riding bikes, visiting people, the beach and the river. I spent most of that hour, holding him, looking to his eyes... He gazed up, I just hope he knew it was me. I just knew he felt the vibrations of my words.

We both told him, it was OK to let go now. We were ready. But he kept on fighting for each breath... I think he was just like his Dad, always hopeful..

He last moments at home, where in the chair I'm sat in now. It gets the best light, first thing, even though it's inside the “catio”. Alex had sat down while I was walking outside, I seem to do better when I walk, and I brought him in for cuddles with her in the sun... He was bathed in sunshine, in Alex's arms... It was beautiful...

Actually getting in the car and going to the vet, was tough, but it really hit me when I walked in. I held the little guy, and just burst into middle-aged-man tears and sobbing... If you were there, you'd know I was my mother's son, cause she was sobbing too... I couldn't look anyone in the eye... I didn't understand what was going on, or about to go on...

I think I was in another place...

We went into a consult room, and I just laid the little guy down, not thinking of using the blanket we had... The vet explained the procedure and took him away for his catheter and first injection, some anesthetic? I don't know, but apparently it was the right thing, it helped with his pain.

I couldn't even look Alex or Mum in the eye... I just cried...

I still had hope...

When they came back, Mijo was wrapped in a soft blanket, what a great idea...!! He was quieter, more peaceful... The vet left to give us a moment...

He was still breathing, still fighting... I put my ear to his face, and heard him...

I kept making sure his eye lids closed from time to time. I remember back when Catalina, my little girl in Germany, needed to be anesthetized for a check up. The vet put some put liquid drops in her eyes and made her blink, so her eyes didn't dry out... So for Mijo, I did that every once in a while... I didn't want his eyes to dry up... I wanted him to be able to see me, because laying on that table, he couldn't hear me.

I begged Alex not to bring the vet back in for the final injection... I think I may have screamed something at her... I don't know... I wasn't me... I was trying to hold him in my arms, without moving him... I was trying to give him another chance...

I bawled...

I don't know if I have ever cried like that before... I thought I'd be all cried out... I thought all my tears had already left the building the previous hours and days... But there was more... a lot more... and more to come...

I know that Alex and I held hands over his body... I felt the love... I felt his warmth... his breathing... I know I cried tears onto him, there were tear drops on his lips...

I looked him in the eye as much as I could, but mostly, I cried...

I felt the liquid go into him, I felt it go around my hand into him...

I don't know much about what happened after that... I know I didn't want to leave him, I had promised him I would never do it. I regret not holding him once more... I know that at that moment, I felt the life drain out of me... I felt hope die...

I walked out, not knowing what to do, and flopped down on the grass outside... I never sit on grass, but Mijo liked it...

I managed to drive home...

That was yesterday...

Since then I've tried to rest, tried to come to grips with what has happened, tried to connect with a few friends, I've tried... I'm still trying...

This morning I got up wanting to do some sport, washing, then study and take on the day with confidence... It's a new day, I should take that opportunity to get back into my routine... It took all of 1 minute, from bed to bathroom, to be bawling... Except for the time I manage to calm down enough to type this blog, I've been crying... It's now 10am... I was awake at 6:15...

We are running out of tissues..

I felt so bad this morning, I wanted to plead with Alex not to go to work, because I just can't today. I just can't. We have discussed how she copes in these situations, and I know that's how she copes, by going to work, so I kept my trap shut. I just want her to hug me all day, so I can feel her warmth.

I cried so much on the drive to drop mum off at work this morning, she started crying too, and contemplated not going to work... She wanted to be there for me, but I told her, honestly, I don't think I'd be much company today.

I don't know the grieving process, we haven't learnt that in counseling school yet, but I do know, I'm feeling very lost... I feel very numb...

I can't explain it, and maybe that's why folks can never really explain how they feel after someone close to them, or their pet, has passed. We are just lost.

I also feel that I am grieving for my other losses in my life. It's a bit like, it's a culmination of all the others before him, plus him on top, making me feel pain like I have never experienced before.

Grief is just love, with no place to go... Alex and I talked about that quote last night. I used this quote to help me through leaving my 4 pets in Germany, I know I have to find a new place for my love, but for now, I just can't.

I know I couldn't have gotten through this without the support of my Mum and Alex...

While Mum cries at the drop of a hat, she is solid and thoughtful and loving. Alex is strong and experienced in these matters. She knew what to say, and when, even if I did yell back… Both have a lot of time and patience for me.

I know Alex and Mum feel bad, maybe even guilty, for choosing him. Mijo was a present, to give me joy and love and comfort. And he sure did, in multitudes, to all of us. I would never have gotten a cat back then, I didn't feel Alex or I were ready, we were still working through our issues with our pets in Germany.

Alex and I decided that we want Mijo home with us. He was only on this earth for 6.5 months, we expected him to be with us for 10+ years. Taken too early. Once he's cremated we'll have him in a little urn. He was so small, but if there's a little left over, we will either plant a tree with his ashes or sprinkle him down by the river, the first place he went to that was close to water.

The past day or so, I have shared what happened with some friends, classmates and family, and everyone has been so thoughtful and caring. Thank you, it's really helped to know you're all out there, thinking of the little guy. He would have loved to meet you all.

He was perfection. If someone else had gotten him, realized he was deaf, they may not have given him the adventures and life he had. Mum considers him a rescue cat...

So here I am, in the chair, his last chair in his last moments at home.

I can still smell him on my shirt. When I walk around the house, dazed, I sniff my shirt. He had a wonderful smell. The smell of love and adventure. I hope that smell lasts a life time.

I miss his warmth, his meow, which was damn loud!! I miss, that sometimes he'd get lost around the house... Or he'd lose me, around the house. He was gentle, and only bit me once, by accident, piercing my thumb a little. I miss the fact he had 1 tooth growing forward, directly out, making him a tri-toothed kitten with a protruding top lip! He took on the world without fear. I've never experienced anything like it in a cat. My girl Catalina did sit on my shoulder as I walked down the street in Germany, but Mijo, he let me go skateboarding with him, played guitar with me (he'd chew the strings) and one time, I even vacuumed his tail.

All trust. No fear.

Back when he lost all his hair around his neck and stomach after his snip operation, we were pretty concerned. Funnily enough, it grew back pretty quickly, but it grew back white, not grey. He had a ring around his neck and kind of marks on his back wrapping around to his belly. Alex googled it, and actually found out, cats can often have their hair grow back white after trauma or experiencing extremes of temperature if their hair was cut short or fell out.

About a month ago, I sent my dearest of friends, Sandra, a photo of his regrowth, and she commented looks like “little angel wings”...

Fly on little wing, fly on...

RIP Mijo Angus

12-11-2020 – 27-05-2021

Thanks for reading,

Josh

#pet #pet love #pet death #sad story #loss #griefandloss

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spooderboyandtincan · 4 years ago

Text

So let’s say our boy Peter’s sick

(A classic trope, I know, but.....................)

And of course, he doesn’t tell anyone, but his very intelligent aunt knows her nephew/ son, and as soon as she sees him, she’s like “Peter, honey. You’re sick. Get back to bed, I’ll make you soup.”

But apparently, he was worse than she thought and comes down with a bad fever. He keeps saying that he’s freezing and so so cold, but in reality he’s burning up. He keeps crying for Tony, and of course May immediately calls the man.

“Tony, you need to get here now!”

She can here his sharp intake of breath as it speeds up and can almost hear his heart rate increase. “Peter?! Is Pete okay? Fuck, May, tell me he’s okay!” he cries, voice trembling. She can hear him suiting up in the background.

“Tony, he keeps calling for you- he’s sick, you need a doctor. He has a temperature of 105 degrees.” She sounded scared.

That’s bad. That’s really bad. Peter Peter please be okay please please

I need you

He distantly heard FRIDAY calling Cho, saying that the proper medical services were on their way. He heard her say to slow his breathing down, heard her say that she was taking control of the suit. But none of it mattered. Peter mattered.

~~~~~

When Tony finally burst through the door of the apartment, his suit already halfway off, May had the tiny boy in her arms, sitting on the couch as he moaned, ready to hand him over to the doctors.

“Peter!” was the first word to come out of the man’s mouth as he rushed over to his son. Kneeling by the Parkers, he brushed the child’s sweaty hair from his forehead. “Hey there, spiderbaby. You feeling sick? That’s okay, we’re gonna get you all fixed up. Don’t you worry, tesoro. Just focus on being okay,” he rambled fearfully.

Peter didn’t get sick. He had his powers. His super immune system. Was something wrong? It had to be. He was never sick. Peter was never sick.

“His temp is the same, he keeps asking for you, saying he’s cold,” May said calmly, taking control. “You tell him you’re here while I make a cold compress.”

“Yeah. Of course. Of course.” He gathered Peter into his arms, cradling him against his chest. “Hey Pete,” he whispered, rocking back and forth. “I’m here, don’t worry. You’re okay, kiddo. You’re gonna be just fine.”

A long moment passed as he nervously asked FRIDAY when medical would be there, when his stupor was broken by a small, familiar voice. “ ‘Ony?” He looked down, surprised, at his baby’s hot, flushed face.

“There you are! Look at you, piccolo. You’re doing great. Focus on me, okay? Just look at me.”

Peter only groaned in response. “Don’ feel good. Cold. Hot.” Suddenly, tears began to flow down the poor kid’s face.

“Oh, no, no bambino, please don’t cry, it’s okay Pete,” Tony begged. He would never say so, but Peter’s tears caused him physical pain.

“Hur’s,” the boy whimpered.

“Can you tell me what hurts, baby?” Tony asked gently.

Peter sniffed and whispered “Side. Bad.” More tears trickled down.

His side? That made no sense. Tony frowned and gently peeled Peter’s soft, fuzzy spider man pajama sweater from his hot skin. And what he saw... nearly made him pass out. “Peter. Oh fuck. Oh god. Peter.”

Because his child’s stomach was covered in thick, sticky blood. “Fuck, no. No no no no. Peter!”

At that moment, in Tony’s pure, uncontrollable fear and panic, May chose to hurry in, brandishing a cold cloth. “Is everything okay? Tony? Ohmygod- Peter!!”

~~~~~

Cho and the med team rushed in only five minutes later, having been informed that Peter’s condition was worse than they had previously thought. There they saw the two parents, scared out of their minds and urging Peter to stay awake and focus on them.

“Tony.” They both looked up to see the doctor.

“Help him. Help him, please,” the man whispered.

The team rushed forward with a stretcher, pulling the small boy from his father’s strong arms and already hurrying downstairs to the ambulance. Tony and May raced along with them, each holding a limp hand.

~~~~~

Peter needed surgery. His bullet wound (as they later found out) had been infected and required treatment. Tony sat in the waiting room, huddled on the couch with May, trying to control his breathing and erratic heart rate. All he could think was Please please be okay Peter I need you I need you Peter I was supposed to protect you how did this happen. May’s fingers held his hand tightly, trying to ground him, but it wasn’t helping much. He was so scared. Because Peter didn’t tell, neither did Karen, or FRIDAY. It was his fault, he should have noticed. Did Peter hack his AIs? They were supposed to be un-hackable for that reason. And now he was in surgery.

Peter made it out without much issue. He didn’t wake up during the procedure, thankfully, but Cho said that he would be unconscious for some time as his super immune system tried to heal. He wasn’t in a coma, just asleep, she explained. He’d wake up.

That was all Tony needed to hear before he raced to Peter’s room in the medbay. The room was dark, the curtains closed, though there was a small lamp on the bedside table. A heart monitor was beeping steadily, but he only had eyes for Peter. Peter, who lay still and silent, dressed in a hospital gown and covered with wires. He had a nasal cannula and a thick white bandage around his waist.

Tony rushed to his small son, sitting in one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs and taking his cold hand. He immediately began rubbing it gently, trying to warm it. After a long silence, the man spoke quietly. “Hey Pete. How’re you feeling? Cold? Your fever went down but it’s still there. But you’re gonna be just fine, baby. I’ll make sure of it.” You just have to wake up.

Please. You’re scaring me.

~~~~~

May joined them later, pulling up a hard chair and handing Tony coffee, which he accepted but didn’t drink.

“Stop.” He jumped as May spoke suddenly.

“What?”

“You’re being too hard on yourself, Tony. This isn’t your fault.”

It isn’t my fault that my kid is a hospital bed, needing help to fucking breathe? “Right.”

“Tony,” May said firmly. “I know how you feel. Every time Peter comes home injured, he says he’s fine. He usually is, but sometimes it’s too much. I still blame myself sometimes, but I can’t keep him from going out and getting hurt. It’s what he loves.”

“But I should have known. I have protocols, ways to keep this from ever happening, it’s not supposed to happen, ever. And he- he fucking hacked the system, and that’s my fault.”

“It’s your fault he’s a genius?” she asked calmly.

“It’s supposed to be un-hackable. For this reason,” he said, trying to hide the fear and left-over adrenaline shaking his voice.

“Tony, that’s-”

They both looked down, shocked to hear coughing. “Peter?”

The boy looked barely awake, sick and flushed, but awake all the same.

“Oh god, baby, hey, hey, it’s okay, you’re fine,” Tony murmured bending down and pressing a kiss to his temple. The child continued to cough hoarsely, moaning. “Get a doct-” May was already gone to fetch Cho.

“Mis’er St’rk?” he slurred, confused and disoriented.

“Right here, bambino, I’m right here,” the man comforted.

“Mmm. Hur’s.”

Tony felt his heart clench. “I know, I’m sorry tesoro, we’re gonna fix that soon, okay? You’re fine, Pete. It’s okay.” He knew he was nervous and his words barely made sense, but it was all he could think to do.

At that moment Cho rushed in, May behind her.

“Hello, Peter,” she said calmly. “I’m surprised you’re awake.” She pulled a needle from her coat. “Can you tell me what hurts?”

“Mmm.” Tony squeezed his hand comfortingly. “Ev’rythin’?”

“Alright, Peter. It may take a bit but this will help your pain.” She injected the syringe into his IV and replaced it in her pocket. Turning to an extremely worried Tony, she said, “This will probably knock him out. I don’t know how he woke up so soon; even with his metabolism he doesn’t burn through these so quickly.”

“But he’s okay?” Tony asked, peering intently at the boy, who’s eyes were now closed as his breathing evened out.

“He will be. He does need to heal, though, Tony, and it’s your job- and May’s- to keep him on bed rest for the rest of the week, at least.”

May laughed quietly as she took her seat. “Oh, he’ll hate that.” Tony nodded in agreement, smiling.

The man finally, finally relaxed (though just slightly) when he realized that his son would be okay. Because he had to be okay. He pressed several kisses to Peter’s soft cheeks and curled into the chair, still holding his hand.

Whether the boy would be fine after May chewed him out, that was a different question.

#look at this trash #irondad and spiderson #irondad #spiderson #whump #angst #hurt/ comfort #hidden wounds #protective tony stark #precious peter parker #fever #tw blood #don't you dare tag as st*rker #eww #bad medical knowledge #no medical knowledge #poor bby peter

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stevesnailbat · 5 years ago

Note

So I was wondering maybe some angst between Steve Harrington and a sister Reader? Maybe he almost looses her (or she just dies) somehow?

warnings: mentions of violence and blood, sibling angst

word count: 1.2K

She had no idea where she was, but she knew she wasn’t in the right place. It had been four hours since she’d stormed away from Steve and the party, and she’d been wandering in the woods ever since. The only thing keeping her from losing her mind was the comfort she got from holding her nail bat in her hand, the spare one she had stolen from Steve’s trunk.

It was getting hard to see now, the sun had gone down and it was getting colder. She knew where she was going, but didn’t know how long it’d take to get there. The Byers’ house wasn’t far from theirs, she knew that at least.

She was cursing at herself as she went through the woods, wondering why she thought that it’d be the best route to take. She had to push through, though. It was close, she could see a porch light. There was something near her, though. She could feel whatever it was nearing her with every step she took, but she tried to keep going without looking back. The wind was blowing, which moved the branches and the leaves, she told herself.

There was an overwhelming feeling of fear that crept up in her as she got closer, like something bad was going to happen at any moment. She didn’t look back, which probably wasn’t the best idea. She didn’t realize something was on her until she felt all of its teeth cling to the skin of her arm, making her screech in pain.

The white-hot pain coursing through her arm was almost enough for her to pass out on the spot, but she persevered. She caught a glimpse of the demodog on her arm as she swung at it with the bat, the tears blurring her vision making it hard for her to aim properly. The bat definitely hit her arm too, but there wasn’t much she could do about it in the moment. After getting the demodog off her arm, she was able to get a good enough swing in to knock it cold for a moment. She knew there was more of the monsters to come if she didn’t run.

So, she made a dead sprint towards the porch light, despite the pain she was feeling from the loss of blood in her arm. She nearly face planted on the stairs twice on her way up, but made it to the top eventually. The frantic knocking on the door startled everyone in the house, but Steve recognized the sobbing almost instantly.

“Okay, okay, c’mon, get inside.” Steve said in a panicked voice, reaching to bring her inside but she pulled away immediately.

“I can walk, Steve.” she snapped, walking towards the kitchen table to sit down. “Don’t act like you care about me now.”

The party looked at Steve to see his dumbfounded expression, which quickly turned to guilt. Max ran over to Y/N with a wet towel and cloth to wrap her arm with. She smiled at the redhead as she started to wipe up some of the blood, but took the towel from her to do it herself.

“What the hell happened?” Steve asked as he watched her peel her blood-covered sweatshirt off to have access to the wound.

“I almost died, okay? You didn’t want your stupid sister dragging you down, so I left.” she said, rolling her eyes at him. “I tried to go home and then decided to come back, but those damn demodogs, or whatever they are, they’re out there now.”

“Hey guys, uh—can we talk for a sec?” he asked the kids and they nodded quickly. “Just me and her, like, alone.”

The four kids left the kitchen for their privacy, but Y/N didn’t seem like she wanted to talk. The glare she was giving her brother seemed like enough to kill in the moment.

“Don’t even try to apologize to me right now.” she said, standing from her chair shakily to grab a glass of water.

“Woah, hey! You need to sit back down. I don’t want you passing out now.” Steve said while grabbing for her as she nearly fainted when standing. “What are you trying to get?”

“Water. And pain medicine if you can find some.” she replied with narrowed eyes.

“Okay, stay there and I’ll get them.” he said, beginning to rummage through the cabinets.

“You let me go out there by myself, you—you let me leave.” she whimpered, finally feeling her emotions break through as she shed tears of anger and pain.

He stopped looking for a glass when he heard her sniffle behind him. When he turned around, she had a fearful and helpless expression on her face. As much as they fought and acted like they hated each other, they were still siblings and they still loved each other deep down. He immediately felt guilty after seeing her tears, knowing that him being an asshole definitely caused some of the damage.

“You just left, what was I supposed to do? I didn’t want to stop you if you thought you’d be safer at home!” he replied, trying not to be too harsh with his words as he stared at the cabinet in front of him.

“You could’ve told me that I’d possibly die out there alone.” she snapped, wiping her tears away.

“Yeah, I could’ve. But you wouldn’t listen because you never do. You like putting yourself in danger, right?” Steve asked bitterly while handing her a water and ibuprofen.

“Not really, but sometimes dangerous situations are better than being around you when you’re being an ass.” she noted, taking the medicine quickly.

“Look, Y/N. I know that I’m a really shitty brother sometimes—well, a lot of the time—but, I’m trying. I’m trying to keep you safe, okay?” he said as he sat in the chair next to her. “Honestly, you’re all I’ve got right now in our family, so I can’t afford to lose you. You may hate me sometimes but you’re kinda my rock and I need you here.”

“Yeah, I—I guess I can’t afford to lose you, either.” she said, rolling her eyes at her brother.

“Do you promise not to do anymore stupid shit until you’re healed?” he asked.

“I think this night is gonna be full of doing stupid shit, Steve.” she remarked and he narrowed his eyes in annoyance. “Okay, okay. I promise I won’t do anything stupid.”

“Good, now let’s get this nasty cut covered up before you bleed out or get an infection.” he said with a smile, ruffling her hair. “This is gonna give you a pretty badass scar, y’know.”

“There’s a pretty badass story behind it too, y’know.” she laughed while letting him finally clean her arm up.

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thatblondeperson · 4 years ago

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TimSteph, taking care of chronic injuries!

Hey look, another ask that got buried! Sorry friend!!!!

This is all preboot, RR/Batgirl era.

Ok so Tim is super extra imo when it comes to treating any kind of sickness, injury, ANYTHING. He’s the type of guy who will go to CVS and buy out the entire “cold + flu” aisle as soon a Steph gets a runny nose. He absolutely drowns her in cough drops and tissues. I can see him being extremely attentive as well. Like bringing blankets and pillows around the clock, happy to carry her from point A to point B, almost insisting to do so on occasion, and just sitting with her for as long as she desires/needs company. He absolutely pays no mind to germs. Steph can cuddle all she wants.

Steph is similar but less extra. She’s got some more classic home remedies that Tim doesn’t have. She absolutely would baby the hell out of him if he got sick though, and probably more often than not she has to put her foot down on him trying to patrol even if he’s completely out of it and burning up. Tim has a hard time relaxing, but eventually the time is used for him to catch up on sleep. Tim getting sick is like a mini-hibernation. I can see Alfred stepping in occasionally if they were both sick because Tim’s an absolute mess, and Steph can only do so much before she gets wiped out. They’re hopeless and completely out of service if they’re both ill at the same time. Error 404: Dorks not found.

Chronic injuries are a constant process. Steph obviously has a ton just from Black Mask alone. I’m sure she gets aches and pains on the regular due to the severity of the torture she experience. Power drills would leave some lasting abdominal pain for sure. Hell, I wonder if it makes cramps worse for her? It could in all honestly. She may need serious pain meds during that time of the month which are of course always kept on hand. On top of that, the physical trauma definitely left endless mental trauma. No question about it. Not to mention that time she got lightly shot in the head. I say lightly because I forgot this was a thing because they don’t really address it again. I imagine that would cause occasional headaches/migraines, and I’m sure Tim likes to run a scan every now and again to make sure there isn’t any lasting damage. And of course, we return to the medicine cabinet for more pain pills. (Thank you @incoherentbabblings for reminding me of the gunshot.)

I headcanon that both of them get nightmares on almost the regular. They’ve both got it set that if one of them is in the middle of a bad nightmare, the other just holds them close, doing whatever they can to soothe them until the calmness sets back in. The nightmares get more spaced out some time after they move in together because I think the constant safeness of having someone beside them every night would eventually help them both sleep through the night better. It is hard to get back to sleep though. Both of them have been put through the ringer, they’ve both seen death of loved ones up close and personal, and I imagine a lot of what they’ve experienced is still very vivid and intense for them.

Tim’s got his own fair share of recurring pain. The boy doesn’t have a spleen and tbh I don’t know how he’s not getting sick more frequently. But extra precautions need to be taken to keep him from getting infections when he gets any kid of open wound, thank GOD Steph is a nurse. Tim has to be kept pretty healthy though if at all possible, which brings us back to my previous headcanon about him not caring about germs when Steph is sick? Yeah, not his smartest move, but Tim’s an idiot and forgets that he’s fragile.

Both of them have regular joint issues. They’ve dislocated enough things for just about everything to make awful clicking sounds now and again. Steph doesn’t have as much regular muscle pain, she’s far more flexible than Tim is so she stays pretty loose and limber, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t have to work at it every day. Steph does yoga as a part of her routine. She gets Tim to join sometimes but he’s not very good at keeping up with it. He’s flexible too but not to her level, and he locks up easier if he’s had an especially tough night. They both try to put the time in to exercise when they can, spotting each other, keeping a routine going, because given how much they both get beaten and battered on the daily, if they don’t keep up with muscle pain, it’ll just get worse. On bad days when the pain makes any mobility difficult, massages ensue. They’ve got at least 15 ice packs in the freezer at all times, and a stack of heating pads in the medicine cabinet. And if all else fails, a nice hot bubble bath never hurts. With Epsom salts and everything. Steph likes to add a touch of lavender oil.

Immediate injuries they’re both very good at treating. Steph obviously has more technical knowhow, and she is the most medically trained of all the Batfam members, but Tim is detail oriented and good at focusing when he needs to so he can keep up just fine. They’re both good at stitches and general wound treatment, but Steph is better at consistent treatment. Tim will absolutely forget to switch out his bandages or clean things because his brain is soup and he cannot be bothered to think about injuries when he’s too busy with 50 other things on the constant. He needs to slow down. We get right back into “more prone to infections” again. Alas. Idiot.

They both have their fair share of mental health issues, though Tim’s tend to be more intense. Steph has her ways of managing her own mental state but Tim gets stuck often. He falls into some pretty deep depression spells, and his anxiety acts up fairly frequently. Steph has started teaching him how to meditate, but also has a list of distractions and special remedies that she can utilize if need be. Movies and tea are a good base line, though Tim’s mind gets very far away sometimes and it’s hard to pull him back out. Like he almost wants to wallow in his sadness. Often she just tries to ground him as best she can so he doesn’t get so lost that he can’t come back. Steph likes to make sure that he isn’t always using patrol as a crutch for when he’s feeling upset or tense. It’s hard to sway him away from more pain when he lets himself get so close to the edge. It breaks her heart, sometimes she feels helpless.

Steph has anxiety as well, and some psychosomatic tics from her past abuse. She needs a lot of reassurance and gentleness when her mind starts racing. She’s still prone to trust issues, even now when she’s surrounded herself with stable people. She’s been let down and she fears losing her steady ground sometimes. Tim, let’s face it, hasn’t been the most reliable in the past, but I firmly believe that with some growing up he’d step up to the plate and try to be a solid home base for her to the best of his abilities. He’s not going anywhere anytime soon. He’s very good at being gentle. That’s canon as fuck. I will die on the hill that Tim is as delicate with Steph as one would be with a priceless porcelain heirloom. Fight me, the boy would never intentionally try to physically or mentally hurt her. He tries so hard to reassure her but I thinks he feels a little helpless sometimes too. Some of her trust issues are his fault, and he can’t just snap his fingers and reverse his mistakes. He tries his best, but there will always be scars.

All in all, I think they’re both very tender and caring with one another. They’re both beyond broken sometimes, and they are a mess and a half. But they know each other, they know each others pain and sadness and I think once they got back together they’d settle very easily into a care routine. Both of them are carrying the weight of countless consequences and mistakes and hardship on their shoulders. Pain is just a side affect that comes with carrying so much baggage, but it’s a little easier to manage when they have each other for support. I do think some of it would get easier over time, and my wish for them is that they can move somewhere just outside the city, maybe by a lake. Far enough away that things are quiet, but not so far that they would completely leave the hero gig behind. I agree with the consensus that neither of them could fully quit. Tim would just sink into the background, but Steph would be out there in the field for many years. Justas long as they have somewhere safe and comfortable to return to, I think they’ll both be just fine. Plus smooches are the best fallback medicine for all ailments and we all know that they never run out of those. 😘💋

THANK YOU FOR THIS ASK! More than half of this was not anything to do with chronic injuries but fuck it. We’ve tapped into the hurt/comfort section of my brain and there is a lot of material there to work with. Idk when you sent this in but I hope it wasn’t too long ago. I hope this answered more questions than you ever intended to ask. 💜❤

#TimSteph #tim drake #stephanie brown #robin iii #spoiler #robin iv #red robin #batgirl #batfam #batfamily #dc comics #dc #batman #personal #ask tbp

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alonelytinywriter · 5 years ago

Text

Dark Shadows

Yandere! Ex-Villain! Present Mic / Yandere! Ex-Villain! Eraserhead / Original Female Character

Warnings: Lemon-ish (mentioned), Self-Harm mentions (nothing described, just heavily implied), strong language, kidnapping, mentions of pretty typical yandere stuff. Ye Have Been Warned.

Playlist ~ Chillhop Radio

Name: Oshima Mia ~ Birthday: January 3rd ~ Age: 24 ~ Hair Color: Black ~ Eye Color: Rose Gold ~ Gender: Female ~ Height: 5′2′’ ~ Quirk: Feline ~ Occupation: Bartender

Appearance: Mia is a small, fair-skinned girl. She has rose-gold eyes with full, dark lashes, and a dusting of freckles across her nose and cheeks. Her canine teeth are more pronounced and that, along with the full pointed ears and long, thick tail the grows from the base of her spine, are not the only aspects of her Quirk that manifest physically, although they are the most noticeable. Her hair, like her ears and tail, is black and typically styled into twin messy buns, braids, ponytails, or the like. She rarely wears her hair down, as she doesn’t like to fool with it. ~ Mia’s causal outfits normally consist of shorts or jeans, simple t-shirts, and comfortable flat shoes, although while working as a bartender, she amassed a collection of short skirts, shirts with too-low necklines, and dresses that where barely there. Whatever helps bring in those sweet, sweet tips at the end of the night.

Quirk: Feline ~ Mia’s Quirk causes her body to possess many characteristics akin to a feline, such as retractable claws, paws on the surface of her hands, and her spine growing differently, resulting in her developing a flexible vertebrae with elastic cushioning on the disks and a much longer rotation along the spine, much like a cat itself. Despite all this, her Quirk never really leaned toward the Hero side of the spectrum, and she therefore decided to explore other career options, leading her to take a job as a bartender. ~ Power - 1/5 ~ Speed - 2/5 ~ Technique - 3/5 ~ Intelligence - 3/5 ~ Cooperativeness - 4/5

~ Dark Shadows ~

~ The entryway to the club was like trying to walk through a wall of sound, and the inside was filled with dry-ice smoke, colored lights, and slender limbs that appeared and disappeared inside the churning smog as the patrons danced. Hizashi and Shouta had only just stepped past the bouncer when Hizashi’s eyes were drawn to the bar and he stared. She was beautiful - hair nearly the precise color of black India ink and piled atop her head in a pair of messy twin buns, liner smudged around her eyes thickly, lips painted red as blood from an open wound, and skin so pale it nearly glowed. She wore a knee length black dress that clung to her curves in the most delicious ways, a scrap of silk and lace that accented her cleavage (although there wasn’t much to show) and showed her legs (which seemed to go on for miles, despite her height), while covering her arms. And a body harness that encircled her waist, chest and neck added a wildly dark aspect to her outfit that fit the club perfectly.

~ It wouldn’t be any of this, however, that would draw Shouta’s attention. It would be the two pointed cat ears that flicked impatiently atop her head, the tail that curled and uncurled in time with the music, her slitted pupils which widened slightly as she glanced over the crowd. Someone sauntered to the bar, leaned forward, and said something so funny that the bartender threw her head back and laughed - a sound like resonated through the club like a beacon, light and clear and 100% female - and her canine teeth glinted sharply in the dim light. She was a heteromorphic feline, and it was noticeable.

~ Twelve minutes. It took Shouta exactly twelve minutes to case out the bar, for Hizashi to approach and make first contact, for Shouta to order the first drink. In that twelve minutes the two ex villains realize two things - One: The girl was clearly anxious around them both. Two: She didn’t recognize either of the ex-villains . . . or she didn’t care. There was fear in her eyes, that much was true, but it wasn’t directed towards them. It seemed more broad than that - the sounds, the lights, the bodies pressed against one another. Whenever a patron would lean in to closely the girl would pull back, ears flattening against her head as she frowned minutely. If the second bartender behind the counter brushed against her reaching for a bottle of liqueur, the girl violently flinched.

~ Her voice was smooth as she spoke to them when they took their seats, and both ex-Villains noted how her cheeks dusted brightly with a rosy tint as she took their order, how the blush deepened when they complemented her as she poured the two shots into the rainbow hued glasses before them. It was adorable. The way she pouted when she couldn’t reach a bottle she needed. How her cheeks puffed out when a extremely large, extremely drunk male ordered the same drink, for the fifteenth time in a row, her breath whistling between her lips, alerting the bouncers standing near the door that the man had clearly reached his limits. How she hissed at the man who was brazen enough to reach out and stroke his hand along one of her ears. She slapped the man, and Shouta was the one to notice the pink and black dappled pads along her hand that oh-so-closely resembled a cats’ paws. They talked of nothing but the girl when she attended to the other patrons, and when she stood before them, all doe eyes and blushing cheeks, the two had a hard time hiding their attractions.

~ They want nothing more than to kidnap her then, as she walks home from her shift at the bar as the sun rises, but as Hizashi stares at her small form he worries that she may not like either of them very much if they do so and after several quite moments of deliberations, Shouta agrees. Instead they follow their darling from the bar to a bus stop, and from the bus stop to her home, which is nothing more than a small apartment settled above a flower shop that smelled, of all things, peaches and wine. They couldn’t see into the apartment, due to its location on a main road, and being on the second floor, but they knew where she lived, and they both attended to their own plans to investigate the apartment later. To make sure it was good enough for their Darling, of course.

~ The two spend weeks at the bar after that first night, talking with the bartender, Mia as they found out, laughing through their drinks as she poured them and speaking softly of Mia when she attended to other customers. But one night, nearing the third week, they enter and realize that Mia is not behind the bar. It shouldn’t have been so surprising - she had worked every day up until then - so that she finally had a day off should not have shocked the two as it did, but when they realized that Mia was not where they expected, they glanced between themselves and the bar as if she would appear from their will alone.

~ “’Zashie! Sho - O - ota!”

~ Mia’s hair was down for the first time since the two had first meet her, pooling on the plastic vinyl of the booth as Mia waved wildly, a drink resting on the table before her, as well as enough empty glasses to knock out an American frat party. She was visibly swaying in the seat, her eyes glinting between the two men as they approached, surprise written across their faces. It doesn’t take long for the two to get Mia talking, and once she does she’s brazenly open for the first time, her answers coming freely as they ask about her childhood - which had been normal to the point of boring - to her Quirk - which she playfully describes as “Beautifully useless.” - to the bright ring that seemed to run through the tip of her tail - “My parents hated it, but when I was a kit, one of my older brothers accidentally shut my tail in a door, breaking two of the bones. They had to remove then to prevent infections and it made that part of my tail . . . floppy, I guess is the word for it. It didn’t sit right. So I wanted something to make it sit. And the piercing didn’t hurt at all cause it’s all numb through there anyways cause of the bones bean gone an all, and look ~!” Mia waves her tail in front of their faces, its long length unfurling and twitching, causing a ringing bell to sound. there, attached to the ring, was a small golden bell.

~ It was almost a good enough act to hide the shadows beneath her eyes, the way her ears laid back at the smallest of movements, the way her hands rubbed over her forearms again and again. They laughed, and pretended to drink with Mia as she continued to chat, seeming for all the world as if they were simply drinking with a friend but there was something . . . darker. Something darker that seemed to blanket the group as the questions became more personal and the responses became more clipped. Shouta’s question of her family had been met with stony silence, and for a moment the group feel silent as the club continued to blare around them. Finally, Hizashi broke the silence.

~ “What made you deride to drink so much tonight, Little Listener?”

~ Mia almost looked like she wouldn’t respond for a moment, eyebrows furrowed and lips pouted, but then she spoke, and her voice was barely audible over the din of the club. “Ahh, you know, life isn’t the best. Ever. So sometimes I drink so I don’t reme-mem-ber just how . . . not the best it is.”

~ She refused to go into more detail than that, even when Hizashi tried to get her explain again and again. In the end the two escorted Mia to her home as the sun rose above the rooftops, despite her never telling either men where she lived. She was slurring heavily, eyes nearly closed as they shouldered her door open and led her to her bed. Her breath was already calm and even by the time her head hit the pillow, and Hizashi wondered if she hadn’t been sleep walking after all.

~ Hizashi makes sure to leave a glass of water on her nightstand, along with several Advil, his hands fluttering over her form as he debated whether she would be more comfortable out of the hoodie and jeans she wore, but before he could come to a resolution Shouta moved forward and drew the sleeve of her hoodie up her arm, revealing a patchwork of bruises and fine line cuts that seemed to span the length of her forearm and biceps.

~ It’s nearly lucky that Mia had already passed out from the drink at that moment, because Shouta is not quiet as he striped her of her clothes, revealing more bruises along her legs, although there didn’t seem to be any more of the cuts.

~ Shouta seethes silently, but Hizashi’s voice, when he speaks, holds enough emotion for them both: “We will save her.”

~ They begin to actively coming around more and more after that, running into her outside the bar, the park, the grocer, the butcher. It happens so often that Mia stops wondering if she’s going to see them again and merely wonders when. They became a group, one that went to events together and on the nights when Mia and the boys would go out together, the nights when the sun was rising on the horizon as they attempted to stagger home, it becomes common place for the boys to crash on the couch together. One or the other would make a light breakfast if they woke before Mia, and if she woke before them they would wake to donuts and coffee from a shop down the street. She had admitted a few weeks into the arrangement that she didn’t really know how to cook, and she didn’t have time to learn, so why both when she could just get everything she needed already cooked for her?

~ Summer fades into fall and by the time winter comes the two ex-Villains have more than learned that despite her happy and lighthearted front, Mia was suffering from both depression and anxiety. They knew when it bothered her more becomes her clothes, which would normally display more than enough skin in their opinion, would become revealing no matter the weather. It was due to the bruises, the cuts, they were sure, and as they had found no evidence of a boyfriend, or girlfriend, or even an abusive family member, the two had been forced to confront the notion that Mia was doing that to herself - that she was harming herself.

~ They decide to confront Mia about it, but the night they plan on bringing it up Mia never shows to the coffee shop. At first the two assume that she had to work, something that had made her late or a no show to their meetings before, but after visiting the bar and learning that she hadn’t even been scheduled for that day Shouta and Hizashi decide to visit her apartment. And it’s a wreak. Door broken from its hinges, furniture tipped and thrown across the room, and there, in the bedroom along the door - blood. A single, bloody hand print smeared against the creamy paint. Pinned beneath a knife is a note with a brief message: If you want the girl back, you know where to find me.

~ And they do. It takes nearly three and a half days to find the cocky little fucker who took their darling from them and the moment they step through the doorway of the Yukaza hideaway, blood begins to fall. The last body - the little punk who lead the operation - hits the floor long before they actually find Mia. And when they do Hizashi openly begins to weep while Shouta stares in horror.

~ Mia was drugged, clearly so, and hurt badly. She was hung from the rafters of the hideaway by her wrists, her toes barely touching the ground. Her clothes had been cut from her, non to gently judging by the smooth red line that ran from the hallow of her neck to her belly button. Both lips were swollen and bleeding, her cheek was clearly broken, and bruises covered nearly every inch of her body. But, Shouta sighed in relief as he carefully cut her down and began wrapping her in his over sized coat, she seemed to have been used as a human bunching bag rather than a sexual toy, and for that he was grateful.

.~ Mia wakes up in the hospital, and afterwards Shouta and Hizashi offer to allow Mia to stay with them. “You’re place isn’t safe anymore.” Shouta points out, using her fear against her. “The men who kidnapped you must have had a reason. What if they come back for you?” In the end, Mia agrees, and through the next few months the two help Mia as she begins her painful recover and by the time winter becomes spring Mia is fully healed. Physically at the very least. She suffered from nightmares nearly every time she laid her head down to go to to sleep, and during the day the smallest of noises, which bothered her before, would send her spiraling into a panic attack. She, on more than one occasion, took swings at both Shouta and Hizashi in her sleep, but neither men resented her for it. It broke their hearts to see their darling this way, and one or the other commonly sleeps with her at night despite her protests that she can sleep alone.

~ A free weekend comes up, something that rarely happens as both men are much too often busy with their jobs - although Mia never does learn where the two work - and the group decide to spend that Friday night binge watching Studio Ghibli movies and drinking their way through a tall bottle of sake. Their nearly to the end of Pom Poko when Hizashi makes the first move. They had planned this for weeks now, and the both were sure of how this would end, whether Mia truly wanted this or not. They had been kind and caring. They had waited. And now, with Mia laying on the couch between the two of them, cheeks rosy from drink, they knew it was time for them to have their reward.

~ Mia nearly bolts from the couch when Hizashi suddenly leans into her and she fills his lips on her neck. But Shouta’s hands where on her shoulders, holding her down and rubbing soothing circles all in the same motion. “Guys, what are you -” but she doesn’t get to finish her sentence before Shouta’s lips are on hers and Hizashi whispered hushed words into her neck. Their hands were every where at once, pressing against her skin, slipping beneath her clothes. Mia couldn’t breath past the lips on hers, the smell of wine on their breath mingling with hers made her dizzy causing her mind to spin.

~ It isn’t until their laying together in the bed, skin sweaty and slightly out of breath that the words where spoken under Hizashi’s breath: “I love you.” And when the words are whispered back to them both, softly and of so sweet, the two ex-villains can barely believe it. it seems so sweet to hear after so long, and the face that she falls asleep only moments later, head pillowed on Shouta’s chest and cradled against Hizashi’s front, they feel as if they are on top of the world. Finally, Mia had accepted them. Finally, after nearly a year of conditioning their Darling, all their hard work had finally paid off.

~ They’re both gone when Mia awakes however, and she thinks little of it. They’re both often gone when she awakes nowadays, so she goes about her business, even a little grateful that the boys where gone. It gave her time to muddle over her actions the previous night. It was hard to remember how she had acted. She had been so . . . so wanton. She hadn’t even questioned the two men, and looking back she wondered if she should have. Memories still cloud her thoughts as she walks into the kitchen, towel drying her hair, a blush coating her cheeks as the look in Shouta’s eyes as he stared up at her from between her thighs replays in her minds eye. But a voice stops her train of thought just as she reaches the fridge, the voice of an anchor man from the news, speaking urgently.

~ “ - in the area are urged to use extreme caution. both Villains are known to be extreme dangerous, and despite their four year hiatus, we are still told that the Villains Eraserhead and Present Mic are not to be approached. If spotted, please, report to a profession, and they will respond. Again, all citizens in the area are urged to used extreme caution. Both villains are known - “ It isn’t the words that stop Mia. No. Its the reflection of the T.V. screen in the window. A screen showing to photos of men that Mia knew disturbingly well.

~ Shouta and Hizashi. Shouta and Hizashi dressed in gear that Mia had seen them both leave in more than once. Shouta and Hizashi staring at the viewer with glares hard enough to shatter ice. Shouta and Hizashi were villains.

~ Before Mia can process what she’s doing, she finds herself at a window, fingers tugging desperately at the latch. They lived at the edge of the city, in a low structured two story home that wouldn’t be a problem to jump from - she had fallen farther for less as a teenager - if only she could get the stupid fucking things open. No matter how long or hard she tugged, she couldn’t seem to make a single one budge. And when she approaches the front door, already sure of what she’ll find, she can’t help the sob that escapes when she finds it locked as well.

~ She was so stupid. How could she have fallen for them? It had never been a problem before. They had made no effort to convince her to leave the house, and why would she? They had always brought everything she had ever needed. Food, clothes, toiletries, anything she had ever mentioned or stated she needed or wanted. They had always appeared with it the next morning, and when Mia had lamented how none of Shouta’s cats seemed to like her, he had left the house without a word and appeared only hours later, a simple ginger kitten in his hands. They had cooked for her, and cleaned after her, held her after her nightmares and been so . . . so . . . so kind. No matter what, they had both treated her as if she were something fragile, something could easily be broken. Even when she had been sandwiched between the two, heavy breath on her neck and their bodies pressed tightly against hers, they had treated her as if she were nothing more than a porcelain doll.

~ By the time Shouta and Hizashi arrive at the house that night Mia has calmed a bit, sitting with the small ginger cat in her lap and a large knife next to her. To say the two men are surprised is a understatement, but the moment their eyes locked on the T.V. they understand. “You know.” Mia doesn’t say a word. She merely stares. “Did you see the news?” A small head shake and Shouta sighs, stepping forward lightly but Mia reacts violently, her ears flattening against her skull, her tail puffing with rage or fear, they weren’t sure. She bolted from the couch, Ginger falling the floor with a disgruntled meow, knife already in her hand. “Mia. You don’t want to do this.”

~ “Fuck you ‘Zashi.” Hizashi startles at the use of his pet name, his eyes meeting Shouta’s for a moment before Mia draws their attention back. “Why? Why could you just tell me the truth? Why did you lie to me? Why - “ Mia bites back a sob, the knife clattering from her fingertips as she stumbled backwards.

~ “Didn’t you watch the rest, baby?” Hizashi croons. “Didn’t you see the part where the two Big Bad Villains died?” And it’s true. Hizashi forces her to watch the T.V., really watch it for the first time in hours, and she saw that his words were true. The Hero All Might had defeated both Villains, whipping the floor with them both. They were pronounced dead on scene and while the news station continued to show repeated clips of the fight as a newscaster spoke, Hizashi walked forward and wrapped his arms around her waist. “Don’t you see, little listener? We killed ‘em, those Villains. All Might owed us a favor, and we finally cashed it out.”

~ “But what you did -”

~ “Does it really matter any more?” Shouta moved forward and melded to her front. “We can be with you. And we will. We’ll spoil you rotten and give you everything in the world. You just have to say you’ll be ours. That’s all. Just say it baby.” Mia refuses to listen, sobbing and moving to pull away, but both men refuse to let her go, cooing soft words of reassurance.

~ “It’s okay, little listener.” Hizashi soothes later, his hands stroking over her skin as they lay in bed together, Mia fully exhausted from her tears. “You don’t have to love us right now. we love you plenty to make up for it. And we’ll never stop loving you.”

#yandere #yandere thoughts #yandere erasermic #yandere bnha #bnha #eraserhead #present mic #yandere eraserhead #yandere present mic #yandere erasermic x ofc #lemon #ish #no beta ill die a (wo)man

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