#bc of the rattling and headaches

[blossoms-phan]

i still haven’t processed the last few preshows bc wtf do you mean they went to six flags and phil cried after riding kingda ka

[dandyshucks]

huge win !!! i realized the craft store im visiting while out of town has felt and i found a good colour for Guz so now i can make a little plush of him >:3

[prythiansprincess]

Can I get a FIC abt the reader being Theodore’s gf and best friend and she’s embarrassed and alone in her dorm bc of cramps and they are REALLY REALLY bad and he just comforts her and they snuggle and he gives her his hoodie and fluffy!! (I’m dying from my cramps in my bed rn 🙏 I need comfort from my book bf)

heart shaped bruises.

pairing: theodore nott x reader.

song inspiration: toothpaste kisses by the maccabees.

author's note: i'm so sorry you're in pain, love. hope this makes you feel better 💗

Bloody fucking hell. 

You clutched your stomach, doubling over in pain as another wave of cramps crashed into you at full force. An anti period pain potion. That would be your first invention after finishing your education at Hogwarts. For now, you were forced to endure the pain and misery sans magic. 

The clock on your nightstand rang obnoxiously, rattling the various barrettes and books stacked atop the table. The alarm meant that Charms would be starting soon. With a rather hard smack, you silenced the clock and buried yourself underneath the covers. 

There was no way in hell that you were going to make it to class today.

You couldn’t even get out of bed, let alone walk to the other side of the castle. No, you were staying right here. Cocooned in the safety of your blankets so you could wallow in self pity in peace. 

Apparently, suffering in silence was too much to ask for because the minute the alarm finally stopped, there was a knock on your door. 

“Go away,” you yelled, the words slightly muffled by your goose down comforter. 

“Y/N?” A familiar voice called from the other side of the door. “Are you alright, love?”

Tears pricked the back of your eyes. No, you were definitely not alright. Your uterus was an active war zone, your emotions were a poorly assembled rollercoaster in an abandoned theme park, and to top it all off, you had a raging headache like someone had taken a bludger to your skull. 

But you couldn’t say all of that. You didn’t want to freak your boyfriend out. 

“I’m fine, Theo. Just feeling under the weather.” You clamped your eyes shut, trying to block out the migraine. “Go to class without me.”

There was shuffling from the hallway before your door swung open, revealing a very concerned Theo. He took in the sight of you in bed, your cheeks flushed and your eyes red from crying all morning. Theo was by your side in three strides. 

“What’s wrong, dolcezza?”

“Nothing, I’m just not feeling well.” A fresh set of cramps chose that exact moment to pummel your lower abdomen, making you wince in pain. 

“That’s not nothing, darling.” He knelt beside you, taking your hand. “Tell me what’s wrong, Y/N. I hate seeing you in pain.”

Your eyes watered again. “Promise you won’t laugh?”

“Of course not, love.”

“It’s these cramps,” you said slowly, shifting to face him. “I’m on my period and it’s just really bad today. Usually I take a pain relieving potion, but even that’s not working this time around.”

Theo’s face softened. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

You averted his gaze, flushing. “I guess I was embarrassed. I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it.”

“It is a big deal,” said Theo. “Everything that has to do with you is a big deal to me. I hate thinking that you’ve been suffering through this all alone.”

“I just didn’t want to bother you with something so silly.”

“You could never bother me, Y/N.” Theo gently pulled back the covers. “If anything I’m the one bothering you right now. Scoot over, darling. Make room for your Teddy.”

“But you’ll miss Charms.”

“I’ve skipped for less. This time it’s actually important. You need me. I’m not leaving you.”

You smiled softly and made room for Theo. He instantly wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a snuggle. The familiar scent of sea salt and smoke felt like a warm hug in itself. Theo stroked your hair and kissed your temple. 

The cold air seeped in through your frosted glass windows, chilling you to the core. As much as you loved the ominous charm of living in the dungeons, this was one of its disadvantages. You shivered in Theo’s arms, cuddling closer for warmth. 

Your boyfriend radiated heat. You had no idea how when it was near freezing in your dorm. Theo liked to say he was hot blooded. You were just grateful to have your own personal heater. 

“Are you cold, darling?” 

You nodded, resting your head in the crook of his neck. “A little.”

Theo shifted beside you. He tugged at the hem of his hoodie and pulled it off in one swift move. “Arms up, love.”

You sat upright and did what you were told. Theo slipped his hoodie over you, smiling as the plush fabric swallowed you whole. It was warm and smelled like him. You wanted to drown in it. 

He kissed the tip of your nose. “It looks good on you, but don’t think that it gets you out of cuddling.” 

Theo pulled you to him, snuggling you from behind. He twined your legs together, making you giggle as his leg hair tickled the back of your thighs. You intertwined your fingers and kissed the back of his palm. 

The cramps may still be wreaking havoc on your body, but at least now you had Theo to comfort you. 

“How are you feeling, babe?” 

You turned, smiling. “Better now that you’re here, Teddy.”

Theo grinned and pressed a gentle kiss against your lips. “Get some rest, love. I’m not going anywhere.”

[sabotsen]

Fragment - 21 - T1004

Pairing: Lee x Commandant/Reader

Notes: Set during Ch21 Spiral of Chronos & contains spoilers. Cross posted to ao3 bc I hate the paragraph formatting here. Word Count 3.6k.

Warnings: Subtle Jealousy and possessiveness. Brief mention of character death and panic attack.

This is a secret Santa gift for @yandere-yearnings. I love you Dar!!! Happy holidays. I hope this knife stabs you lovingly.

Emotions cannot be compressed into numbers, not in a way that does them justice.

The depth, the weight, the agony of them cannot be expressed in binary. There is simply too much — too little — to account for them in calculations. 

He knows this. 

Honestly, he would like to think himself rational enough to follow through his calculations without the influence of emotions altering the numbers. In most situations, that assessment would be correct. His measurements, calculations, predictions are all precision sharpened to a lethal bullet aimed with perfect trajectory. He is a machine, built for war and numbers. He is a soldier, eliminating obstacles for the best calculated result. 

But Gray Raven is not a factor that can be compressed into simple numbers and figures. You, in all your stubbornness and kindness, are not measurable no matter what calculations and equations he uses. 

Your smile makes him happy — flustered, even — and your laughter rings in his head for days, leaving no room for even the shortest string of binary. Your touch is a warmth, a fire, that burns away every equation he knew by breath. Your voice is a melody that drowns out every calculated plan on the tip of his tongue. Your mere presence — the steady guiding light of your M.I.N.D. beacon — pieces him together so gently, more human than machine. 

It’s a terrifying thing — to be stitched together so lovingly, to feel the weight of emotions more than the unchanging shape of numbers. It’s a foolish thing — to think of himself as a person and not a machine, a tool, a number in the data string. 

He loves you for it. He fears you for it. 

Because you make him more. Because you make him undefined. 

But he does not change. Because it’s him.

So here he remains. Trapped in a Möbius loop. Because it’s you. 

Lee is rational. 

He is not one to be swept into fleeting emotions. Reacting on impulse often leads to more messes and headaches. There is a logical explanation for everything. 

He knows this. He knows this. 

But there’s something about the sight before him that makes his jaw clench until metal grinds against metal. 

Maybe it’s the way your frame seems even smaller than usual as you kneel with one knee pressed against the floor, a sniper rifle that is not your own within your hands. Maybe it’s the way Wanshi curves against you, the white of his hair and outfit a stark contrast to the soft grays of your Gray Raven uniform as he embraces you like sea foam does the ocean waters. Maybe it’s the way you tilt your head just slightly towards him, his voice soft as he speaks. Maybe it’s the sharp glint in Wanshi’s golden gaze flitting over your shoulder as he notices Lee in the doorway.  Maybe it’s the smile upon Wanshi’s lips, the silent glee of a hawk with prized prey, as he bows his head and nearly brushes his lips against your ear.  Maybe it’s the way his hands drift over yours, adjusting your hold, then drift to ghost over your hips and shoulders, lingering just a little too long to merely correct your posture.

Maybe it’s all of them at once. 

It’s an ugly thing that flares to life in the metal confines of his chest, writhing and clawing at the cage of his ribs. It’s an ugly thing that spurs him into the shooting range, jaw clenched and fingers digging into his palms firmly enough to scrape metal against metal. 

He knows the name of it.

But Lee isn’t one to act on emotions. He has to be rational. He has to be level-headed. Someone has to be in order to keep Gray Raven out of trouble. 

But even so. 

It’s an ugly thing that rattles in his chest and claws up his throat. He tastes it on the back of his tongue as he steps up behind you.

“Commandant.”

He feels it burn like acid against his skin when golden eyes lock with his over your shoulder and Wanshi’s fingertips brush against the nape of your neck. 

He feels it oozing, seeping like blood at his feet, lapping at the edges of your clothes as you kneel upon the ground and finally, finally turn your attention up to him. 

Your smile is soft, gentle and welcoming as always. “Lee. Are you here to hide from Asimov for a while?” 

Lee frowns slightly, his brow furrowed. “Please don’t lump me in with you, Commandant.” 

You have no idea, do you? 

You laugh — a beautiful sound that soothes the ache in his chest only as you lean back, posture relaxing and Wanshi naturally shifting just a breath away. It’s still too close, in Lee’s opinion. There’s a burning in his fingertips, a twist in his wires that urges him to pry you free from the hawk’s talons. If it’s shooting advice you need, isn’t he enough? Do you doubt his skills? Or is he not close enough to you for you to ask such a thing of him? Has he done something, said something, or missed some sort of subtle hint that forced you to go to Wanshi instead? 

It’s an ugly thing that burns in his chest and drips like acid from his tongue. But he swallows it back. He is made of metal and numbers. 

Lee sighs, his voice steady as it always is — he forces it to be. “Did you forget?” 

You blink, head tilted slightly to the side and your silence is his answer. 

He tries to ignore the way Wanshi tilts his head ever so subtly in the same direction and the way the hawk’s hands still linger on your shoulders. 

“You’re going to be late to the meeting. Celica asked me to be sure you didn’t forget or run off to hide again.” 

“Ah.” The color momentarily drains from your face, lips twisting in a blanch. The butt of the rifle drifts down, away from the cradle of your shoulder as you set it down and look every bit the image of a cat grabbed by the scruff. “It wasn’t on purpose,” you mutter, “I really did forget.” 

If it weren’t for the hawk still pressed against your side, perhaps Lee would have smiled that small, subtle one you know him for. The one that vanishes if you pay it too much attention, fading like light refraction shifting rainbow hues to common daylight — a lasting secret only if you cradle it just right. 

But he does not smile as he shakes his head in exasperation and gently places his hand on your elbow. “Let’s go, unless you really want to be in trouble.” 

His movements are gentle as his hand on your arm guides you up, but his gaze is sharp and pointed on the hawk whose touch lingers too long as you move away to stand. 

That golden gaze only softens when you turn your head to Wanshi, that familiar somewhat sleepy expression splayed across his features as if it had always been there. As if a sleepy owl is all he has ever been and ever will be. 

“Sorry to run, Wanshi. Thanks for your time,” your voice is friendly as always, unaware, as you hand the rifle back to the Strike Hawk. 

Wanshi merely smiles softly and waves his free hand. “Take care, Commandant.” Golden eyes shift, just for a moment to glance over your shoulder at Lee before lazily gliding back to your face. His smile sharpens in the corners, too soft and subtle perhaps for you to notice — but Lee does. “You know where to find me.” 

Lee scowls, his hand on your elbow shifting and anchoring onto your shoulder. It is pure restraint that keeps him from digging his fingers into the folds of your clothes, and you merely take his gesture as a silent hint to keep moving — something innocent and friendly. So you let him coax you away by the shoulders as you offer a small farewell and final thanks to Wanshi and leave the room. He should be grateful you see his actions in such a light rather than for what they truly are. But that ugly feeling in his chest wails and mourns that you do not see through his act. 

Just before the door slides shut, Lee casts one last look over your shoulder to the construct who remained sitting where you left him. That sleepy expression is gone, replaced by something too patient and cold, too sharp and predatory as it follows your back. Wanshi smiles, the shape of it upon his lips every bit the silent threat — the promise — of a hawk’s shadow brushing over a rabbit. The cold metal of the door slides shut, separating you from the Hawk perched and waiting. 

It is only after he has guided you down the empty hallway far enough away from the shooting range for his nerves to settle that he realizes the weight of your gaze on him. You’re burning a hole through the side of his face and by the press of your lips he can tell you’re thinking something — worrying about something. His arm across your back slips away, his touch drifting down to your elbow in a soft brush — easily avoided. But you don’t. You allow the soft, ghost’s touch of his fingers against you. 

“What.” He’s frowning. He knows he is. 

You’ve known him long enough by now not to be deterred by his blunt speech or soured expression. If anything, perhaps you find comfort in it — familiarity in the easy banter you’ve developed with him and his dry humor. But there is thoughtful caution as you watch him now and he traces even the smallest movements in your gaze as you observe him. 

“I don’t have a meeting with Celica today.” 

There’s a note in your voice, subtle and easily missed. Light and almost airy — it’s the soft smile hidden in your voice that doesn’t play upon your lips. 

That tone is the only reason his reply is as blunt and dry as any other common conversation, “Gray Raven is truly in dire straits if our Commandant is suffering memory loss so early in age.” 

You laugh, a hand rising to hide the bright smile he adores. You have a bad habit of doing that — tucking smiles and laughter behind your hands as if they are stolen burdens not meant to trouble others. Perhaps the war has done that to you, or maybe it was something else — the cruel words of others. He never did narrow down the origin, as you’ve had that habit since the day he met you. 

You should smile more, he thinks, as your hand falls away from your lips and the small hint of a smile remains. It’s the same one that plays upon your lips whenever he brushes off his flustered expression as his cooling system failing. But just like those moments, you do not call him on his bluff. 

Instead, your hand shifts and taps his that still lingered on your elbow. “How are you holding up?” The worry in your voice is evident despite the light cheer you try to hide it behind. “We haven’t seen you lately. I know you like to keep busy but you’re not allowed to pick up Asimov’s workaholic tendencies.” 

Lee tilts his head to the side, his frown softening a fraction but his brow furrows even more. “Do you not read the reports I send?” 

“I read them, but that’s not what I asked.” Your hand on his shifts, interlacing your fingers together and if he were still made of flesh and bone perhaps you would have felt the way his heart would have stumbled, the way his fingers would have trembled. But he is made of metal and numbers, and he is still as the warmth of your hand sinks into his. “Are you alright, Lee?” 

That ugly ache in his chest finally settles, soothed by your touch, but his thoughts tumble over each other in a silent maelstrom. His gaze falls to your hand in his, the way the softness of your touch contrasts so cruelly with the hard metal of him. What is there to say in this situation? Progress is being made on the specialized frame, everything necessary to know is logged within the reports you receive daily. So why are you asking? Why are you worried? 

He won’t fail you or Gray Raven. Never. 

The only thing stopping him from fully syncing with the frame is just those— 

“Lee?” 

Your voice pulls him from his thoughts and he feels the way your hand squeezes his gently. He hears the concern in your tone, feels it brush against him like the warmth of a blanket —  cozy in its familiarity, even if it is foolish. Carefully, he returns the gesture, ever mindful of his strength. But as he lifts his gaze up to your face, his breath catches in the metal of his lungs. 

Red.

The hallway engulfed in red and black — scorched and burning. Smoke curls and spills from the warped, gaping doorways on the right, billowing up and crawling through the broken ceiling above. On his left is an opening in the wall that frames a hellscape beyond — the earth molten and burning, shimmering in the blazing heat as the roar of flames nearly drowns out the screams and wails, human and metal alike. The sky above, once blue and freckled with stars, is now shrouded by the gray billows of smoke and ash. 

Grounded. Ruined. Burning. 

When did they fall? How could Babylonia, the cradle of humanity, have fallen? 

His hands shake.

Something’s wrong.

Information pours into him, drowning him — the swell of the ocean crashing into a man lost and dehydrated in the desert. 

He sees the figures of soldiers — constructs — fighting off in the distance. But it is not the corrupted they turn their guns upon. In the smoke and flames, he sees humans. He hears their screams, despite the distance — despite the fire roaring around him. He sees the constructs fall upon each other when the fire and wounds claim the humans. He sees them burn and melt in the heat, sees the way they tear their own limbs from their bodies and the arc of sparks that sparkle in the smoke like mournful stars. 

Something in his hand pulls upon him— too soft, too gentle, too delicate for this hell. 

“Lee!” 

Your voice cuts through the smoke and ash to pull his attention back. 

His gaze snaps from the sprawling burning battlefield to your hands on his then up to your face. But the sight of you crushes the metal ribs in his chest. Blood. Blood trails from your nose and dots the corners of your eyes like ruby tears. A dried trail of blood lingers in the corner of your mouth, lips too pale despite the crimson that stains them. Your vitals aren’t showing in the corner of his vision and panic spikes in his chest. 

The virus. 

It’s the virus. 

You’re ill. 

You’re hurt. 

His hands fly to your face to wipe the corners of your eyes, to your neck to find your pulse. 

It’s fine. It’ll be fine. 

Liv. Where is Liv? 

He has to get you to her. 

Serums. 

You need serums. 

Lee doesn’t hear the way you call his name as his hands fly to his chest, patting down his pockets. Where are the serums? He always carried some on him for you. Where…. Where are they?

Did he drop them in the crash? 

Did they shatter? 

Your hands follow in the wake of his, trying to grasp and still him, but he doesn’t notice. 

You need help. 

You can’t stay here. 

He has to —-

“Lee!” 

Your hands cradle his face, holding him in place and forcing his gaze back on you. 

Immediately, he feels the weight of your connection, the steadying link of your beacon sheltering him. A piercing headache cuts through him, pierces him like a lance straight through his head. Crippling. Agonizing. It blinds his vision and nearly brings him to his knees as a shrill sound shatters his audio modular — the dying wails of a beast, a warning call drowning out the roar of the flames. 

Your hands, the warmth of your touch, and your voice calling his name are the only things that keep him on his feet. He blinks, vision clearing as your worried expression comes into view — he feels the way your concern bleeds from you through the connection, a hint of fear rippling in the undercurrents. 

“Lee?” Your thumbs brush against his cheeks. “What happened? Are you ok?” 

Lee swallows, fingers finding purchase in the folds of your shirt. “Yeah,” he steadies himself, forces the trembling in his fingers to cease as he begins to count. Numbers, strings, data — anything to calm himself. “Just a headache.” 

“A headache?” Your tone is incredulous, a scowl on your lips as you pull his face closer to yours. 

“It happens,” is all he says. His gaze lingers in the corners of your eyes and trails down to your lips. No blood. He pries one hand from the folds of your clothes and gently wraps it around your wrist, fingers pressing lightly against your pulse. Steady, normal. Your numbers match the vitals in the corner of his vision.

You’re ok. 

You’re safe.

“Lee,” his name is a short, clipped thing. 

Slowly, reluctantly, he pulls away from your grasp and you let him, fingers lingering against his cheeks before he is out of reach. Your gaze is a heavy thing upon him as he glances to his left. The metal wall remains intact and from the narrow window outside he can see the vast  black starry expanse of space. 

There is no fire.

There is no smoke. 

“I’m fine, Commandant.” Lee takes a breath, his attention returning to you as his expression returns to the neutral calm you know him for. “They happen, now and then. It’s fine.” 

Doubt needles against the back of his mind through your connection, nibbling on the edges of him like a mouse. You don’t believe him. He doesn’t blame you. 

Lee doesn’t like the expression on your face, the way your lips turn down in a frown weighted by worry or the slight shimmer in your eyes. Your hands find his again, warm and gentle. He does not pull away as you gently tug on his arm. 

“Let’s go back to the lounge.” 

Lee does not argue. Quietly, he follows you, his hand in yours as you lead the way down the hall. 

It feels natural — 

It feels like home — 

If you lead the way, your hands on him to guide, he would follow you anywhere. Even into —

>>Memory playback paused.

>> Data corŗ̶̥̮̣̦͈̗̣̤̚ū̵͙̦̦͙̠͓̝͖̦̒̔̈̄̒p̴̢̎̈̄̂t̵͎̩͓̮͚̹̹͔̄͌̏͋͒̿̓́̄̎̓̀̆̈́̊͝i̶̧̛͙̥͖̫̹̘̤̳͎͈̜̍̒̏̔͒͐ͅơ̶̢̧̛̰̹̫̻͕͖̤̺͈͉̲͑͂̈́̃̂̅̀̿͗̅͗̃͘̕ṉ̷̢̡̛͙̙̹͚̠̲̦̞̖̤̱͗̈́̀͂͗̔̿̈́̈́̌̓͂̓͘͜͝͠ ̸̡̞͍̯̫͉̘̭̗̝̭̪͎̥̺͔̈́̄͑̐̆̾̅́͘̚f̸̧̱͎͈̣̲̣͓̖̟͎̆̏̚ơ̸̢̧̢̠̙̞̯͍̫͖̪̩̰̪̯͚̫̓͂͗̽̐̋̆̈́̒͊̊͋́͠͝u̷̝͇͍̰̜̥̣͊̍͆̈̌ņ̴̧̨̡͚͕̞̟̥͚̱̠͍̳̪́̽́͒̂͛͛̿̑̑͊͋͝͠͠ͅd̶̨͕̤̱̞̯̃̍̍̈͆̀́̽̇̿̏̽̍͛̚͠͠

>> Terminating playback. 

Thunder is the first thing he hears. 

Like the last wail of a dying man, it rumbles across the cold desolate landscape. A whale song unanswered. 

He knows it is not truly thunder, but rather the chaotic storm of information continuously flowing and merging into the center of this space, swallowed and devoured. It is the last sound made by those who came before and a warning to those who will come after. It is the sound of a body falling from the heavens, another stone constructing the Tower of Babel. 

Lee listens to it reverberate as he lingers on the last memory that flowed through him. 

How long has it been since he felt warmth — your warmth? 

Hard to say. Harder still to remember where ‘he’ originated from. Too many memories have been swallowed and merged into him, too much data compiled and stored for him to know which were originally ‘his’ and which came from ‘others’. 

What happened to you — to that version of you? 

Was it the fire that claimed you? Was it sickness? Was it age? Was it a bullet he failed to shield you from? Was it the corrupted he didn’t spot in time? Was it the Red Tide that swelled too quickly to stop?

Lee quiets.

Around him, data converges into ill begotten shapes only to crumble and shatter into streams of numbers. He feels it — in the not too distant future, in the not too far gone past — a ripple in “time”. Another version of ‘him’ who failed is falling from the Tower of Babel. 

He’s lost count of the bodies he has devoured. He’s lost count of the memories he has stored, stolen and kept. He’s lost count of the times he has failed.

The bodies pile up like stones. Brick by brick. One day he will reach the heavens. One day he will reach the top of the tower. 

He has to.He has to.

There is no other option.

Because there must be a world where you survive. There must be a future where you still exist.

Someone falls into this pitiful M.I.N.D., tucked into a corner of space and time long forgotten and overlooked. 

Another body. Another failure.

Lee sees ‘himself’ bloodied and wounded crumbled in a heap upon a shape made of data.

Thunder rumbles in the distance. A mournful wail. A warning.

Lee resigns himself once more and pulls ‘himself’ closer into the center of the storm.

He has to know what happened in that world of ‘his’. He has to learn. 

He only hopes he will see you again.

Even if only for a moment.

Even if it is only a fragment of a memory.

He misses you. 

>> Uploading dá̸̦͎̩̪̞̗̞̯̖̬̽́̏̋͝t̸̙̟͈̮̦̬͈̬̰͍͉̩͕̞͕͗͐̉̎̽̋̄̂͒͑͝a̷͉͕̘̍̀͛̇͋…̵̛̦̼̦̫̺̠͍̗͑́̎̏̽͐̐̆̎͠͝͝͝.̶̛̲͓͓̩͚̞̠͇͔̮͖̾͐̋̽̐͌̌̑͆̓̾̕ ̷̣̦͖̫̟͙̏̃̑͑̾1̴̧̛̥̱̰͚̽͒̐̀̍̀̇̄͛̾̇̎̕ͅ%̴̧̡͖̮̝̰̖̦̠̝̤̎̅̎̈́̊̌͂͜͝͝ͅ…̴̛̳͉̙̝͙͂̎͌̅ ̶̢̨̡̢̛͚̩͈̠̼̝͔̭͍3̶̛̺̖͎̂̋̈́̉̀̌̉͒͂��̚͘̕͝%̵̨͈͉̭̟̣̟̾͑̀̓̎͛̋̀͋̀̒̎̂̽̒͋̈́.̵̡̨̗̩̱̣̯͉͓͖̹̗͐͗̌̐̄͌̈́́̋̈́̓͘.̸̢͚͈̗͍̘̂̄̀̊ ̵̧̨̜̯̗̖̱̬̭̫̬̬̳̞̤͆̏͒́̊̌͌̐̾̈̇̀̕ͅͅ

[lastoneout]

You know...looking more into the fused vertebrae in my upper spine and cervicogenic headaches/migraines made me realize something.

The first migraine I ever had was when I was like a little kid, like 8-9 iirc, and I was at an amusement park with my family. We went on a big, very shaky wooden rollercoaster. I remember that it was so shaky that I felt like my head was rattling around, and my aunt was half-jokingly holding her arm over me and my cousin and shouting at us to "hold on!!!".

I felt fine before that, but afterwards I had a fucking blinding migraine(I thought it was a headache tho bcs I didn't know what migraines were), it was so bad I ended up curling up with my grandma on her mobility scooter and burying my head in my hand and sobbing from the pain, and my grandpa had to go find me ibuprofen before I could do anything else. I didn't have any auras or any other like pre-migrane symptoms, one minute I was perfectly fine, then I got jostled around all to hell on a huge rollercoaster and boom, worst headache of my life.

I always assumed it was kinda a coincidence? Because I thought I had normal migraines, but now....I think maybe it was because of my neck. And tbh looking back I do tend to get migraines when I've been really active, like at a movie or the state fair or whatever. All things that involve a lot of jostling around and holding my neck in specific positions.

Hmm. Things are starting to make a lot more sense.

[a-muffin]

Woe, Dandy's World oc be upon ye. Her name is a pun on the name Madelyn and medicine

(fun fact word vomit below)

A doctor(what kind? All of the above? She can therapy and surgery she can do it all)

Sleeps like 10 hours a day but is still tired 24/7 (mecore)

In her thirties

Plagued with a million pains. Doctor who needs a doctor the most

Stoic and intimidating. She's not mean just blunt and doesn't sugarcoat or do small talk

Her glasses are her eyes. There's nothing back there

Her head is filled with plastic pills. Her skill is placebo-based!!! (Suggested by someone on discord!)

The pills are comically large. Like football sized

She can't hear that well over the sound of them rattling(she has low stealth because of this)

The rattling gives her headaches

Someone took a bite out of one of the pills lol

Probably gives Shrimpo CBT or something

I have no clue what kind of doctor she is lmaaao

Wearing grippy socks, not shoes‼️‼️

Her colors are all cool bc those tend to calm people down.

Referred to as Doctor by everyone except Toodles, who sometimes calls her Miss

[bruh-anator3000]

Guess who is also severely ill rn and has been throwing up non stop???

Spoilers!!!! its me.

So let me grab Viktor by the hair and pretend hes taking care of me, c'mon psstpsstpsst vikki come here

Warnings: throwing up, on the nose references to that one dream I had and Machine Heralding, probably really bad writing since my vision is kinda going wonky, cringe self indulgence bc i need it

...

Welp, there went your lunch.

Down the toilet, leaving you heaving for air. Fat tears rolled down your face as you sat back on your heels. Panting, like a boa constrictor was tight around your torso and throat. Dabbing pathetically at your drool, snot, and tears.

Your light meal of saltine crackers with some ice chips lasted about... 10 minutes? Maybe more, since you had time to get up and go to the bathroom this round. Wincing, you buried your face in the towel, a godforsaken headache throbbing at the front of your head.

What the hell did you do to deserve this? The stomach virus had been going sround but you knew better than a silly virus. This was the virus plus your insane stomach that could never cooperate teaming up with your migranes to form the worst day in history.

No anti-stomach acid pills worked, none of the prescribed medications for your pains stayed down long enough, and half of them needed food to accompany them before being digested.

Who decided to make that a rule? You wanted to meet up with the pharmacist who decided you had to eat something first to make your stomach stop hurting. You wanted to ask if they knew what chronic stomach pain meant. Possibly hit them with a chair but that was if you had time.

But seriously, how were you supposed to keep prescriptions down when you could hardly stomach fucking crackers?

You eventually pulled your face away from the towel, rubbing your eyes raw, at the sound of the front door opening. The tell-tale sign someone else was home, quickly being accompanied by your cat greeting them in cheerful meows. You could hear Viktor call out your name. And you could feel, if you tried to say anything above a whisper back, the breakfast you never had was about to join your lunch.

Rio knocked over some pill bottles, guessing from how multiple clattered and rattled to the floor. The tsk that followed a better indicator that your cat had cleared off the kitchen table, while you hid in the bathroom. A bottle or two was picked up before the comforting tap-tap-tapping of a cane neared the master bathroom.

Tap-tap-tap against the door. "You're sick again, aren't you?" Viktor's accented voice carried through the door. You only nodded from your seated position against the wall. As if he could see you. "Can I come in?"

You tried for an affirmative hum that quickly soured in you throat. Viktor heard it nonetheless, and gently peeked his head through the door.

"Have you eaten anything?" He was aware not eating could cause this reaction. Eating could cause it to be like this, too. Or worse.

"Nothing stays down." You managed to choke out. He walked in, leaving the door a tad open for your cat to slide in behind him.

With a small groan, he joined you on the floor. Back sliding down the wall til he sat right besides you, hand curling over yours in your lap. Rio came trotting behind, finding her place in between both yours and Viktor's knees. She curled her paws beneath, creating a rushed loaf as she bumped her head against you.

You wanted to pull your hands apart, wrap one with Viktor's and have the other one run down Rio's back. But every movement, every flicker of the bathroom's light, it made you even more nauseous.

Reading your mind, Viktor squeezed your hands in his, speaking softly, "It's alright. Rio and I will take care of you." He smiled, teasing in a little humor despite your unforgiving state.

You leaned into his shoulder. A tear rolled down your face. "It hurts."

"I know."

"I'm so sick of this, Vik."

"I know," He sighed, letting his head drop. "We'll figure this out someday." His eyes glared at his leg. He could feel it protest against it's crossed position as he sat with you.

You sighed, letting your heap drop to your knees. "How was work?"

"Mmh, nothing extraordinary." His thumb rubbed soothing circles over your knuckles. "Jayce nearly blew his hand off." He lilted. "His hand got stuck in the Atlas Gauntlet and instead of just taking the Hex crystal out, he panicked and almost blew off his arm."

You hummed. "So regular day?"

"Pretty much."

You sighed. "Do you think if I ate a hex crystal, my stomach pain would go away?" Viktor snorted.

"I very much doubt that."

"Well, you're the scientist." You pouted. "Build me a stomach that won't violently protest everything. Like a... hex-stomach or something."

"A hex-stomach?" You nodded. "Hm, I'll ask Jayce what he thinks, but it may turn calories anf sugars needed for your body to function into magic."

"I'm supposed to not like that?"

"I can't think it to be pleasent to vomit magic." He winced.

"The point of the hex-stomach is that I will no longer throw up." He squeezed your hands again, thumb brushing your knuckles still.

"We'll figure out something less... risky." He said

...

As if we don't know his doomed narritive. Doomed little guy. Kay im gonna go throw up now, i hope you are having a great day, if not at least better than mine.

Let me take the suffering from you since I'm already in the depths of it. You go enjoy your day.

[his-tamine]

I know I’ve 100% seen this idea somewhere, and I cannot find it anymore for the life of me, but… werewolf allergic to themselves.

Like once they detransform back to human, their bed is covered with fur and dander which do not go easy on their nose just because it’s their own werewolf-form’s fur and dander.

[ I think I saw something ab this under Halloween snz prompts, and I wanna know which genius to credit for it bc this has been spinning around in my brain for like maybe a full year now. ]

-

Idk I’m just picturing a werewolf having to be chained up to their bed every full moon— not because they’re an actual threat to public safety, but because they’re a fucking werewolf and if anyone else saw them all hell would break loose.

They wake up the following morning covered in sweat, with a killer headache (and general body ache) due to the strain a transformation likely would cause to the body. Worse than that though, fur. Fur EVERYWHERE. All over the bed. Setting them off like crazy.

The relentless sneezing is already overwhelming on its own, but the fact that each sneeze worsens their headache, and that they’re still chained up and can’t cover or do anything about it… yeah.

Bonus:

Partner, roommate, or whomever they’re living with— whoever helps them get through full moons and chains them up— can always tell when they’ve woken up because of the distant sound of desperate sneezing and chains rattling coming from their room.

[kvetchinglyneurotic]

🌹but specifically for your original fic bc I have no doubt that its wonderful and deserves some love

Thank you! At some point I'll (maybe) get around to explaining the actual plot, but in the meantime, here's a guy having a bad time with no context:

Avram woke with a piercing headache, his cheek suctioned against a hard, cool surface, and a shooting pain that radiated from the base of his skull down his spine and settled in for the long haul when he levered himself upright. He blinked the black dots from his eyes and took in his surroundings: grey walls, grey floor, grey ceiling with a camera tucked discreetly into the corner. No windows besides a covered eye-level slit in the door. A solid metal table bolted to the ground, and Avram bolted to the table with shackles that chafed at his wrists and ankles and rattled whenever he shifted. “Excuse me,” he said to the camera. “I would like to speak to somebody about this, please.”

[nemesis-is-my-middle-name]

Can I ask for Ingo and Emmet for that newest ask game? :3

you most certainly can!! (send me a character ask game)

First impression: i actually had skipped the battle subway in bw so when i played pla, my first impression on meeting ingo was "this guy is coded like a cameo from another game. not sure which one tho. anyway he looks like a stuffed animal that went through the washing machine by accident and i just know there is a certain sect of lesbians on tumblr who are going to want to put him in a bug jar." and i was right on all counts. i'm ngl my first emmet impression was probably largely based on fan content before i actually went back to see the canon stuff so it was mostly "damn, giratina (arceus?) should Not have separated these two"

Impression now: DAMN, THEY SHOULD NOT HAVE SEPARATED THESE TWO. ingo is my special lil guy who is duty oriented until it kills him and very competent and unreasonably polite which are all character traits that do in fact make me, personally, wanna put a dude in a bug jar. emmet is. my guy my man he's me he's my everything i'm incapable of talking coherently about him.

Favorite moment: gotta be the only time i have ever bothered to go through the hassle of exporting a whole video clip from my switch when ingo loses to the protag in your first battle. he is so happy about it... when else does he smile that genuinely... waaaahh...

Idea for a story: uh hmm the problem here is all my story ideas are in my pinned or my pitches tag lmfao. i guess one thing i've been rotating is it would be fun to do something else with the oop-canon thing where neither of them fully remember each other but also don't have a ton of spare time to interrogate the situation, bc i think it's a fun take. some other scenario where emmet doesn't even remember that they're twins, they're just both like, "alright, you look exactly like me, that's goddamn weird, but fuck it, we've got bigger problems so let's just work together for now." i like how quickly they fall into lockstep without knowing why. i think it's fun

Unpopular opinion: i know i've said it before but LET THEM KICK ASS! for real! they are hypercompetent pokemon trainers who also manage the cat herding business that is a subway system that doubles as legal wrestling tournaments. they're probably stronger than most gym leaders, if not the elite 4, just by virtue of how much battling they're constantly doing against such a variety of opponents. they're clever and capable of very quick thinking in a wide range of situations and very capable of both reading/understanding and guiding/managing others. they should not be losing to FUCKING WILD POKEMON in basically any scenario. they should be so hard for anyone in hisui to rattle bc none of this is NEW to them. they're just built different. also let emmet specifically be a competent adult i am on my knees begging you

Favorite relationship: can i say each other, is that cheating. i feel like that's a given. it's just good. they are on the same wavelength and ready to back each other up basically all the time and not even getting smote by god itself can change that. OTHER than that i'm a big fan of them w/ the surveyfam. lav and cyllene specifically i think they would all make a fun squad together. fuck, this is what i shoulda said for the story idea section. i want to expand on that like, 5 sentence thing from a while back where they were both in jubilife together along with the protag in a similar situation, bc i think that's a fun idea. kamado's headache is never going away ever again

Favorite headcanon: hmmmmm shit i have too many to choose. does asj qualify as a single headcanon or is that too expansive. oh, this is a random thing, but i still really like the idea that they're like, roxie's uncles or cousins once removed or something, through their birth family that they largely avoid interacting with other than a few people who are mostly chill. they're VERY different wrt personality but roxie's got this unexpected responsible streak when she's arguing with her dad, i think it makes for a fun connection.

[bluiex]

Remember when I said I had too many WIPs? Yeah, have Scar texting Grian bc I decided in order for them to meet more and to make their interactions organic, Scar became a catsitter. A total foolproof plan, by the way, so foolproof.

--

He took his coat from where he hung it, saluting everyone as he checked his phone for the first time this evening. Nothing much, just Cub asking if they wanted to get drinks after the council meeting, False confirming what exactly they needed to bring up during the meeting, and a missed call from an unknown number.

His eyes widened when he remembered his promise to the cat lover—Grian was his name—and he immediately texted the phone number Grian gave him, ignoring the missed call from the unknown number. If it was important, they were either gonna call again tomorrow or they would’ve left a message. 

He entered the bus when he finally sent that message and waited impatiently for an answer. It wasn’t too late, he could see the last rays of sun fading into a darker blue, and he hoped Grian didn’t have a strict bedtime. His leg bounced and he played with his phone case, putting it off and on. 

His phone buzzed with a reply when he was opening his apartment. He checked he didn’t forget anything at Tango’s, gave pets to Jellie, noticing his roommate wasn’t in his room, and slumped on the couch, opening the text. 

Grian :D (8:24 PM): i had a feeling you forgot

Grian :D (8:24 PM): i talked with my girlfriend and she suggested we meet our cats before arranging you as our catsitter

Scar’s eyes widened at the suggestion. He completely forgot cats could get very much territorial, especially his Jellie who had her space since forever. Hopefully his roommate wouldn’t mind two more cats for an undetermined amount of time. 

He propped his elbow to have an easier time to reply.

Scar (8:25 PM): That’s a great idea!

Scar (8:26 PM): When were you thinking of meeting up?

He would never thank the heavens enough for the gift of autocorrect. 

As he waited for a reply, he clicked on his roommate’s messages. 

Scar (8:26 PM): Do you mind having two more cats for a while?

Grian had already replied before he could answer Cub’s message.

Grian :D (8:27 PM): how about tomorrow

Grian :D (8:27 PM): i’ll bring pearl and maui to your place 

Scar (8:28 PM): Sounds good!

His roommate just sent him a thumbs up and Scar warned faer he’ll have a visitor tomorrow. 

He finally answered Cub’s and False’s messages (yes, he would love to get drinks with Cub; he doesn’t know, please email Bdubs about it) and, as he stared into nothingness, realized his headache was gone. Maybe the meds actually worked. 

Jellie hopped on the couch, joining him and asking for pets. He chuckled fondly as he started to pet her, feeling his eyelids getting heavy. He couldn’t wait for tomorrow.

-- bloop anon (yes i decided that larry the snail was scar's roommate and use fae/faer pronouns bc magic snail)

OMG I LOVE LARRY THE SNAIL ALREADY

BEAUTIFUL. I'm glad we get a little more from this AU x3 it's so good.. Still wanting to know about the whole gf thing!! *rattles the bars of my cage*

[daincrediblegg]

YO!!! I was tagged by @officious-sea-lawyer to do this and so here I deliver:

❄️ Favorite Christmas movies

Well I actually have a NEW favorite christmas movie this year and it’s the 1970 Scrooge starring Albert Finney. True to my nature I really love a pathetic old man and he might be the most sopping wet and weird little scrooge I’ve ever seen but also in the flashbacks… holy shit he’s handsome (reminds me of francis a little. Just saying) … anyway go watch Scrooge all the songs were written by the same lady who did charlie and the chocolate factory. AS FOR OTHER FILMS GOD THERE’S PLENTY but to rattle off a few: Muppet Christmas Carol (THE FULL VERSION), Polar Express, any of the Rankin Bass christmas films, The Holiday, White Christmas, classic Grinch AND LA Grinch, 1939 christmas carol also. And of course, It’s A Wonderful Life.

☃️ Christmas traditions?

On christmas eve we all open a small present and then I make hot chocolate and watch the polar express when everyone’s gone to bed.

���� Favorite Christmas aesthetic? (Traditional, black and white, etc.)

Victorian!!!! Jesus christ but I love victorian christmas aesthetics (especially this year. Good GOD. I’m deeply into victorian christmas aesthetics this year)

🎁 Christmas food/drinks you love

HOT CHOCOLATE!!! But also I always buy a tin of danish butter cookies. I love those little bastards with the dried black currants in them especially. So fucking good. Also I won’t say no to a good gingerbread (or more importantly my fave cookie flavor of all time: ginger molases)

❄️ Best Christmas song

Not gonna lie. I fucking love Hark the Herald Angels Sing. It’s very nostalgic for me singing it with not just my youth choir but the WHOLE congregation at the end of Christmas Eve service and ringing bells… yeah man. Yeah. For more modern stuff I do fucking love any of Bing Crosby’s songs (but ESPECIALLY white christmas), and Andy William’s It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year.

🎄 One thing you got for someone (I won't tell :3)

I actually made hats for my whole family!!! Though actually I didn’t make a hat for my dad bc he doesn’t wear hats bc he’s a strange little man but I made him a little headband earmuff thing instead that I think he’ll really like 🥰

☃️ One thing you really, really want for Christmas

A fucking camera 🥲 I know I won’t get one tho. But I can DREAM can’t I? Other than that like the big thing for me is some new over ear sony headphones that don’t fucking hurt my ears and give me headaches yes. Other than that my 4 day trip to montreal was a great gift indeed I had a fucking blast (will provide details if wanted)

Now who to tag… hmm…

@prismatica-the-strange @your-mighty-words-astound-me @kittensmctavish @roaming-thru-roses @seldonhari @jokerownsmysoul @smileofacaffeinatedsaint and ANYONE ELSE TO WHOM THIS LOOKS LIKE FUN!!! Happy fuckin holidays bitches!

[kurtkunkleismybbg]

THiTR SPNAU

Grymmid!Dean holds a special place in my heart like- 

He’s so fun to write about!

Like he turns into a Boelen Python², which is fucking huge btw, and it totally freaks out Sam the first time he sees him shift, bc ‘wholly shit that is a bigass snake’.

But it’s just Dean with that derpy little look pythons have. And Zephyr eats it UP. Even though Grimics are reclusive (which makes Grymmids exceedingly rare), they know that as a species they are hardly likely to attack.

That's not to say he's not badass- bc he totally is!

Despite his derpy little face, he is a deadly efficient hunter, doubly so in his snake form.

He can hear demons from miles away due to low vibrations they emit. Angels emit higher vibrations, but they are strong, and it rattles his bones in a way that is most uncomfortable.

Regular monsters are no match for Dean, bc his reflexes are as quick as a pythons' and his grip is near impossible to escape with the way he constricts.

He also brunates!

When fall begins, he starts sleeping longer and deeper, depending on where in the USA they are. By November, he's waking up less, but a few hours can be coaxed out of him if they bury him in blankets and warm clothes.

And by the time December rolls around he only wakes up once every 48-36 hours to sip some water before falling back asleep.

Sam absolutely loses it the first time it happens, despite both Dean and Zephyr saying that it'll be over when the weather warms up.

Speaking of angels; let's mention one of our favorites: Cas!

While he doesn't get the chance to raise Dean from hell, he does get to meet the Winchesters and Zephyr.

Heaven sends him to spy on the brothers and help figure out what went wrong and how to get things Back On Track.

Zephyr and Sam are immediately suspicious of this rookie hunter that no one's heard of wanting to join them but Dean? Dean is takes to him instantly.

Ofc, it's just before brumation, so Sam sends him up to Bobby's so Cas doesn't notice him sleeping like the almost-dead all winter. The moment the frost melts, Dean is raring to go, and totally not because he's looking forward to see Cas again, nope!

Sam and Zephyr still don't trust him that much, but Dean still likes him just as much as he did before brumating, if not a little more.

As Dean sees it, Cas is warm like a perfect rock to sun on, he tastes like thunderstorms, and his voice is the most perfect thing he's ever heard. Who cares that he's probably a spy?

This leaves Zephyr and Sam baffled, because loverboy and Dean just don't correlate well together. It's to the point that Zeph flies back to Fearielynd just to ask her half brother's mom what's going on. (they may be Destined)

Gabriel also gets to meet Dean, but his experience isn't as fun as Cas's.

The moment they get to the same town the trickster's in, Dean just shifts (higher ranking angels are loud, which gives humunoid!Dean headaches) without an explanation.

Poor Gabe gets his own just desserts from the 8 foot long python in the form of tricks and scares.

¹ Grymmids are half Grimic (a creature I created) and you can read about them here:

² Grimics look like snakes and function similarly, so I use snake terminology.

(for reference)

[queen-scribbles]

For the Weird Questions for Writers: 13, 16, 35, and 39 please! (I have to ask 16, because I used to work in a library and we always tried to find the weirdest things people used as bookmarks! It feels like continuing the tradition, lol!)

13. What is a subject matter that is incredibly difficult for you write about? What is easy?

Not so much a subject matter, but I always struggle with arguments. Physical combat is easy(and fun! and I'm good at it!), but I have so much trouble writing arguments that have the right balance of emotion in them and don't rabbit trail in eight directions and end in a way that feels right. Also anything that would induce secondhand embarrassment is a BATTLE.

16. What’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever used as a bookmark?

Tbh, I don't really use anything other than bookmarks, scraps of paper, and maybe really flat bracelets(like the narrow woven ones) to mark my page bc I don't wanna mess up the binding. Sorry to disappoint. :P

35. What’s your favorite writing rule to smash into smithereens?

Hmmmm, either turning dependent clauses into sentences when it befits the dialogue/scene to make things choppy or putting prepositions where they shouldn't be if it fits the speech pattern of my POV character. (I'm pretty sure I split infinitives a bunch, too, but I've stopped tracking that one bc it was giving me headaches)

39. What keeps you writing when you feel like giving up?

The muses won't shut up, if I stop writing they'll drive me insane xD (basically, there's just too many ideas rattling around in my head and I don't want them going to waste)

[khazadspoon]

is it too late to ask for fic prompts? if not, how about "they're at a sketchy bar, some guys start trash-talking bb, kaz starts a fight over it bc he's a little drunk, and bb has to bail kaz out before he gets beat up too badly"?

Sorry it took a while, I was trying to think about how you’d trash talk bb and got muddled. But here! Have a thing. Violence and slight canon period typical homophobia but it’s not the Theme or anything.

———

The room was hazy, smoke lingering in the air like a blanket, music thudding under the low hum of conversations. People gathered at the bar with drinks and laughter, tables had extra chairs pulled up to accommodate friends meeting after long months apart. It was calm and yet there was something almost static in the atmosphere.

He didn’t know if it’s the alcohol or the headache brewing behind his eyes but something headset his heart racing.

Big Boss was almost silent in the corner. His eye drifted lazily over the crowd, occasionally focusing on Kaz when he said something of interest, mentioning possible contracts or weapons trade. MSF was growing and there was always something to do, but every so often they would get out, just the two of them, and wind down somewhere no one would know them. It just happened to be a bad idea one night.

“You’re in my spot.”

A guy, easily six and a half feet tall with arms thick as tree trunks, loomed over them. His accent was thick, not Costa Rican but familiar. Kaz wondered if it was Cuban. He put on his best, friendliest smile.

“Sorry, it was the only table left. We’ll only be an hour, maybe less, then we can-“

“Fuck off, fairy. Get out of my spot.” The man flexed, cracked his knuckles and moved to tug Kaz up.

A hand stopped him, grip light, but Kaz knew it wouldn’t stay that way.

Snake tapped ash from his cigar and calmly spoke. “That’s not a good idea.”

“Oh yeah? And what’re you gonna do about it?”

Kaz felt his pulse pick up. Sweat broke out on his palms, his stomach tightening as Snake rose up from his seat. “Nothing, yet, just take your hand off my friend and leave us be.”

“I don’t think so, shorty. Now take your boyfriend and go find some other place to be before I take your other eye,” the man puffed his chest out, jabbed a finger at Snake’s chest and spat at him.

Kaz saw red.

He lunged, fuelled by anger and cheep whiskey, fist flying into the guy’s jaw before his brain could catch up. Pain flared in his hand as he threw himself forward. He grabbed at the man’s hair, tugging hard and feeling it come out in his hand, thrust his knee up and heard the air rush out of the stranger’s lungs in a wet groan of pain.

He felt a sharp, heavy agony as a punch landed on his cheek. It rattled through him and he thought with a strange calmness that his glasses better not be damaged. The man, still wheezing and clutching his own crotch with one hand, slapped at Kaz’s face and Kaz tasted blood as he hit the wall behind him.

Then, in what seemed like seconds, he saw Big Boss grab the man’s arm, twist it, heard the joint snap out of place as he fell to the floor.

The bar was silent as Big Boss knelt over the prone body and bent to murmur on his ear.

“Right now your arm can still heal and be functional. If I lean on it the right way, you’ll be beating people up one handed for the rest of your life. You’ve got two options: get up and get to a hospital, or try touching him again and never get up again.”

His voice was low, smooth, no hint of anger or loss of control. Kaz swallowed the blood and saliva that had gathered in his mouth and stared with wondering eyes at his Boss. He’d die for this man, by his side or by his hand, and nothing could change that.

There was a pathetic whimper from the floor and the bastard nodded weakly. “Okay, okay I’ll go just don’t kill me!”

Big Boss stood up in a fluid motion and turned his back on the man. “Good. Now get out before I take both of your eyes.”

Kaz watched him scramble to his feet and stagger away, no one moving an inch to help him out of the bar. He wiped blood from his lips and realised he was grinning, though it must have looked more like a snarl. He could still taste blood and it felt… good.

Snake bent down for a moment and quickly wiped something on his shirt.

“Here,” he said softly, handing Kaz his aviators, “I think you dropped these.”

A half-mad chuckle burst from his throat. “Thanks, Boss.”

“C’mon, let’s get out of here.”

“Yeah…” He followed as Big Boss walked through the stunned crowd, his head thrumming with love and life and pain. He’d had enough to drink, anyway.

[doomshroomed]

Have to drop some ask game questions for Domi!! Ewe is so sweet i love her sm <3

1. Are they from Sandrock? If not, where were they born? 3. Which city state would they most like to visit, and why? 6. What’s their opinion on the Church of the Light? 10. What’s their house like? Is it well decorated? Do they take pride in their home or let it get messy? 19. What’s their favourite season? 24. Free space! Feel free to ramble about anything regarding them you can think of :>

HI THANK YOU SO MUCH 🥺 i love these questions

1. Are they from Sandrock? If not, where were they born? Domi was born in Highwind! She follows the builder blueprint (hehe) pretty closely so she moved to Sandrock as a builder :)

3. Which city state would they most like to visit, and why? Tallsky! It sounds beautiful for starters but also Mi-an is from there… it’d love to visit her family someday.

6. What’s their opinion on the Church of the Light? Ewe’s pretty apathetic for the most part. On one hand ewe can understand the fear it stems from and the desire to stay away from the dangerous technology that brought about the downfall of the world centuries ago, but on the other hand it might not hurt to explore it in a safe way.

10. What’s their house like? Is it well decorated? Do they take pride in their home or let it get messy? (ok ingame her house is a bit all over the place bc im lazy so im just going to answer this how it Would be in an ideal world <3) It’s fairly minimalistic and simple but with cute ornaments strewn about! She treasures any and all gifts and loves to decorate with them. Things do tend to get a little messy as she’s always busy and often forgets to take care of herself, nevermind her home, but it’s a well-loved space.

19. What’s their favourite season? Spring! It doesn’t do well in the freezing cold but summer is too hot for it (especially summer in Sandrock). Sandrock’s spring is a nice temperature :) 

24. Free space! Feel free to ramble about anything regarding them you can think of :> (typing this after i answered I kinda just rattled off some fun facts/elaborated on things i stuck on her builder sheet but >:) hehe THANK U..)

Domi frequents Fang’s clinic as ewe suffers from bad stress headaches. It’s something that ewe just has to live with and ewe refuses to let it get in the way of ewe’s job. Ewe always has ibuprofen on hand incase a headache hits while ewe’s out and about.

She has autism (bc i also have autism so all my ocs are autistic by default <3) and goes nonverbal occasionally! It’s usually brought on by dealing with too many people at once but sometimes it just happens. She tries to avoid people in order to let herself recharge but if she has to run errands she’ll bring a notepad and pen with her so she can write to talk :) Her Sandrock pals are all used to this (especially fang you cannot tell me that man does not have autism and doesnt also go nonverbal. he totally gets it) and are accommodating!

It writes poetry in the evening to wind down before it sleeps. It’s shy about sharing it with anyone but it’s written Mi-an, Nia and Heidi love letters with poetry in them so they’ve seen them :)

Speaking of women. I know we don’t have Nia in Sandrock yet but Domi’s endgame is polydating Mi-an, Nia and Heidi! Mi-an and Nia live with ewe and are also dating each other (i think they’d be cute) while Domi is dating Heidi by herself :) I also know this won’t be possible ingame but I’m quietly hoping someone makes a polymod 🤞

Domi’s Nemo is named Muffin! She also has a Palomino horse named Vanilla and a white horse named Marshmallow (i think i had to name it smth like mallow ingame bc marshmallow wouldnt fit but its meant to be called marshmallow hehe). I would really like her to have a goat as well…pwease Pathea🥺

It’s weirdly lucky and the four leaf clover necklace is one of its most treasured accessories!

Domi and Nia had a mutual crush on each other for years but never addressed it until Domi moved to Sandrock and realised just how much ewe missed her. Ewe then fell in love with Mi-an and Heidi too and things got confusing but everything was discussed and they’re cool with ewe being poly <3 Mi-an also fell in love with Nia so she got Two !!! girlfriends #lovewins

Domi looooooooooves Logan (platonically. she is a lesbian) they’re besties and really close. When he asked her to take care of Andy she practically adopted the little guy (she loves andy a lot too btw).  I don’t have anything else to add yet since he’s not in town but it felt important to mention