#but I have a job so that's not a problem for me

[communistkenobi]

I was looking for a book recently on an online storefront and was recommended a book written by a physicist about the history of humanity. this was a popular press book that was not intended to be read by other academics, but it reminded me of this niche genre of books, with experts from the physical sciences writing about human behaviour or history or what have you. Could you imagine coming across the inverse? A popular press book that purported to explain physics written by a historian?

There is some deep imbalance in how public perceptions of “general intelligence” seem to work - those in STEM are generally recognised for their competence, expertise, and intellectual acumen, and this recognition can be generalised, that at some level a demonstration of your expertise of eg astrophysics is a demonstration of your abilities of investigation writ large, that you have figured out some central underlying element of science that allows for basically limitless intellectual extension to any field or subject. A physicist can write a book about human history and be taken seriously by the general public on the assumption that physics is more difficult to understand than history, so any lower domain of investigation is open to them. The reverse is often not extended to a lot of the social sciences, particularly the theoretically-heavy social sciences; theory is just making bullshit up at the end of the day, it has no real practical application because any questions about the philosophy of thought or knowledge - how did we come to know what we know and under what conditions do we know these things - is just the indulgent wankery of people who can’t find a real job.

And of course it would be silly to insist that because you have read Hegel, an infamously difficult thinker, you know how to interpret the lab print-outs of electrochemists - I don’t want this goofy concept of general intelligence to be applied everywhere, I want it to go away entirely, but its current uneven applications across scientific fields indicates a broader problem with public conceptions of expertise and knowledge.

This probably has something to do with anti-communism on some level - social science is not generally regarded as “real science” (in no small part because social science is often the field of bureaucrats, and while animosity towards bureaucrats is deeply sympathetic, I suspect the reasons for this animosity are not themselves scientifically grounded), that while there is a public understanding of “objective facts” that exist prior and external to human interpretation, the politics of knowledge are hegemonically oriented around liberalism, to such an extent that any critique of the assumptions of knowledge are viewed as a dogmatic denial of reality done for the purposes of political infiltration and brainwashing. And I don’t feel totally unqualified to say this, given that this is basically the de facto response from students encountering Marxism for the first time in university. “Marx is too dogmatic” may as well be inscribed above the doors to lecture halls. Hell, Jordan Peterson made a nice little public career for himself railing against “post-modern neo-Marxism,” a phrase so nonsensical that the fact he was not immediately and permanently laughed out of the public arena for saying it is an indictment of how politically illiterate we are as a society!

And the infuriating thing is that a lot of social science scholarship (not just from the US but especially from the US) is complete horseshit, just pure evil garbage motivated solely by a desire to justify the fact that we do really need to keep killing tens of thousands of people a year to keep this whole party going. Every sociologist who calls themselves a “methodological individualist” is contributing to the long-standing tradition of eugenics scholarship but is too craven and vain to admit to this. If you had to describe the sum-total of the social scientific scholarly output of the west in a word, it would be ‘mysticism.’ Because it is the case that anti-colonial, anti-imperial, and anti-capitalist investigations of the political-economic conditions of the world have produced social scientific knowledge on par with the discovery of the atom, but it is not treated as such. “It is right to rebel” is not just a moral claim about violence but a scientific summary of human history.

But I think it is precisely this reactionary state of affairs that makes people devalue the social sciences as an actual site of legitimate investigation, that understanding the historical trajectory of ideas or the political conditions of life are valuable pursuits for any just society. Because social science deals with the social world, the political conditions under which the social world is investigated and understood are themselves bound up in questions of political and economic power. But this equally extends to the physical sciences - I know at least in environmental sciences, there is an ever-growing reckoning with climate change as an imminent threat to all life on earth, and environmental scientists cannot avoid talking about the political conditions of our planet even if all they want to do is study a river. Genocide is measurable in soil samples taken in the American continent. The separation of the environmental from the social is itself a historically contingent arrangement of knowledge.

But this is infuriating to even complain about because I don’t want to sound like an entitled academic or ego-bruised professional. I have no desire to start a faculty war with the STEM fields. I feel secure in my own expertise. I do not want anyone to “recognise my greatness” I am just profoundly lonely in this whole affair. and it just so happens that we exist in terribly anti-intellectual conditions for the most cruel and ugly reasons possible, and so we (me, I) have to suffer seeing books on sale claiming to give a general account of human history written by a physicist

[pfaugh]

From "They Thought They Were Free" by Milton Mayer (1966)

A chemical engineer by profession, he was a man of whom, before I knew him, I had been told, “He is one of those rare birds among Germans—a European.” One day, when we had become very friendly, I said to him, “Tell me now—how was the world lost?”

“That,” he said, “is easy to tell, much easier than you may suppose. The world was lost one day in 1935, here in Germany. It was I who lost it, and I will tell you how.

“I was employed in a defense plant (a war plant, of course, but they were always called defense plants). That was the year of the National Defense Law, the law of ‘total conscription.’ Under the law I was required to take the oath of fidelity. I said I would not; I opposed it in conscience. I was given twenty-four hours to ‘think it over.’ In those twenty-four hours I lost the world.”

“Yes?” I said.

“You see, refusal would have meant the loss of my job, of course, not prison or anything like that. (Later on, the penalty was worse, but this was only 1935.) But losing my job would have meant that I could not get another. Wherever I went I should be asked why I left the job I had, and, when I said why, I should certainly have been refused employment. Nobody would hire a ‘Bolshevik.’ Of course I was not a Bolshevik, but you understand what I mean.”

“Yes,” I said.

“I tried not to think of myself or my family. We might have got out of the country, in any case, and I could have got a job in industry or education somewhere else.

“What I tried to think of was the people to whom I might be of some help later on, if things got worse (as I believed they would). I had a wide friendship in scientific and academic circles, including many Jews, and ‘Aryans,’ too, who might be in trouble. If I took the oath and held my job, I might be of help, somehow, as things went on. If I refused to take the oath, I would certainly be useless to my friends, even if I remained in the country. I myself would be in their situation.

“The next day, after ‘thinking it over,’ I said I would take the oath with the mental reservation that, by the words with which the oath began, ‘Ich schwöre bei Gott, I swear by God,’ I understood that no human being and no government had the right to override my conscience. My mental reservations did not interest the official who administered the oath. He said, ‘Do you take the oath?’ and I took it. That day the world was lost, and it was I who lost it”

That feels like a good, self-contained thing. But if I haven't lost you yet, there's some more afterwards that I think is about as relevant.

“Do I understand,” I said, “that you think that you should not have taken the oath?”

“Yes.”

“But,” I said, “you did save many lives later on. You were of greater use to your friends than you ever dreamed you might be.” (My friend’s apartment was, until his arrest and imprisonment in 1943, a hideout for fugitives.

...

“Of course I must explain. First of all, there is the problem of the lesser evil. Taking the oath was not so evil as being unable to help my friends later on would have been. But the evil of the oath was certain and immediate, and the helping of my friends was in the future and therefore uncertain. I had to commit a positive evil, there and then, in the hope of a possible good later on. The good outweighed the evil; but the good was only a hope, the evil a fact.”

“But,” I said, “the hope was realized. You were able to help your friends.”

“Yes,” he said, “but you must concede that the hope might not have been realized—either for reasons beyond my control or because I became afraid later on or even because I was afraid all the time and was simply fooling myself when I took the oath in the first place.

...

Shall we say, just to be safe, that three million innocent people were killed all together?”

I nodded.

“And how many innocent lives would you like to say I saved?”

“You would know better than I,” I said.

“Well,” said he, “perhaps five, or ten, one doesn’t know. But shall we say a hundred, or a thousand, just to be safe?”

I nodded.

“And it would be better to have saved all three million, instead of only a hundred, or a thousand?” “Of course.” “There, then, is my point. If I had refused to take the oath of fidelity, I would have saved all three million.”

..

“I don’t understand.”

“You are an American,” he said again, smiling. “I will explain. There I was, in 1935, a perfect example of the kind of person who, with all his advantages in birth, in education, and in position, rules (or might easily rule) in any country. If I had refused to take the oath in 1935, it would have meant that thousands and thousands like me, all over Germany, were refusing to take it. Their refusal would have heartened millions. Thus the regime would have been overthrown, or, indeed, would never have come to power in the first place. The fact that I was not prepared to resist, in 1935, meant that all the thousands, hundreds of thousands, like me in Germany were also unprepared, and each one of these hundreds of thousands was, like me, a man of great influence or of great potential influence. Thus the world was lost.”

[derinwrites]

Do you have any advice for writing in a web serial format?

Let’s look at this in two sections – the business part, and the actual writing part.

The Business Part

1. Consistency. Consistency in updates. Have a schedule and STICK TO IT.

If your schedule is too hectic and starts affecting your health or otherwise adversely affecting your life, change the schedule; update less often. Don’t update in spurts and then randomly stop. The audience will far more easily tolerate a slow schedule than an inconsistent one; an inconsistent one will lose many readers. You’re not Andrew Hussie and you can’t get away with that bullshit.

There may be times where you need to take a hiatus due to some emergency, life event, or health condition. This is fine – your wellbeing is more important than your story. But you need to be up-front with your audience about this; tell them you’re taking a hiatus and tell them exactly how long it’s going to be. If you can, you should tell them in advance (this isn’t possible for things like a car accident, but is very possible if you’re planning to, say, move house in a month). If you’re taking too many hiatuses, then it’s better to slow down your schedule and update less often. Audiences prefer fast and consistent, but if they have to choose, slow is better than inconsistent.

The #1 helper to consistency is having a big buffer – that is, have several weeks’ worth of unpublished chapters. The length of your buffer is personal taste, but I like to keep mine as long as possible so that if there’s some problem that stops me from writing for several weeks, it won’t upset the schedule. It keeps my stress down to know that I have that leeway. Other writers prefer to only write a week or two ahead, though, so different things work for different people.

2. Decide on your monetisation system early and prioritise it.

The most popular and most effective method for monetising a web serial seems to be the patronage method, which is the one I use. You set up a patreon, ko-fi, or whatever sponsorship system you prefer, and offer rewards to those who support you. Having their names in a credit list and getting access to advance chapters are very common rewards. Some people also lock access to their discord behind a paywall, or offer extra stories or let supporters name story characters.

This model is not the only way to make money from web serials. Some people make money via advertising, or selling merchandise, or use the web serial itself to advertise stories that they sell. You can of course use several revenue streams – you can have both a patreon/ko-fi and run ads on your website (I don’t because I hate ads, but you can), or start selling merch related to your story once there’s a demand for it. Many web serial authors (including myself) sell their completed works as books. But the important thing here is that one of these systems will be your main system, and you need to know what it is and behave accordingly. If you run ads AND have a patreon, are you more focused on ad revenue or patreon revenue? You’re going to have to put your time and attention into one of them over the other. You’re going to have to make decisions that will help one and harm the other. So know in advance which one is most important to you.

You don’t have to monetise your story at all, of course. Plenty of people write fiction on the internet for free every day with no thought to making an income at all. But if you’re serious about this, I would recommend monetising it, because that makes a better and more consistent product. The reason I’m still able to keep writing these year after year is that my supporters pay my mortgage; without Patreon and ko-fi, I’d have to get a different job, and wouldn’t have time or energy to write consistently. Also, the reason I can write and update even when I don’t feel like it, and the reason I always push to make my stories as good as possible even when I’m not interested, is because I owe it to my supporters who are paying me real actual money to read my work. If I didn’t owe my readers anything, none of these stories would ever get finished, because writing is only fun about half of the time.

3. Don’t expect to be able to turn this into a career.

This advice sounds silly coming from me, who has through sheer luck, as well as the generosity and passion of my readers, somehow turned this into a career. But I need to emphasise that that luck is not typical. Most web serial writers will not be able to support themselves solely with their writing. It can make a good side hustle, but if your primary goal is “low barrier to entry work-from-home career where I don’t have to answer to a boss and can support myself comfortably,” then web serial writing is usually all of those things except the last one. There’s no harm in trying to turn this into a career – I did it, as have many other web serial authors – but don’t expect that result, is all I’m saying.

Still, if you can do it, it does have a lot of advantages.

4. Don’t expect to make money fast.

I remember when I finally started making an entire $100/month on Patreon. It was a fantastic day.

It was when I’d been writing web serials for four years.

5. Your most valuable resource is your readership.

Your readership will grow and gather momentum over time. The best business decisions you can make are those that grow your readership and allow your readers to participate in community, even if you have to give up opportunities to make money to do it.

A good example of this is discord. Some people have private discords that only their patrons can access; while this is a useful anti-spam and anti-harassment tool, I don’t recommend doing this if you don’t have a major spam or harassment problem. Some people will pay for discord access, yes, so you might get a handful of extra dollars per month that way – however, you will also get a far less active discord. When it comes to readers, population density is critically important; the more activity, the more people talking about your work together (or talking about anything and bonding with each other), the better. Plenty of people have joined my free discord just because it was there and only read my stories after seeing people talk about them there. Then they go and get their friends to read the stories. Enthusiastic readers are inherently valuable, and the best thing you can do is give them the resources they need to talk to each other and share their interest.

This principle applies to a lot of things. I have a lot of free stories on my website that aren’t the usual web serials, and more than once I’ve considered whether they should be paywalled. The answer I always land on is ‘no’; I couldn’t tell you how many readers have been roped into my web serials because they liked Copy <|> Paste, or The Void Princess, or Drops of Blood. These readers may or may not then become monetary supporters, but even the ones who don’t will increase activity and discussion about the stories, have fun and tell jokes in the discord, and may even produce fanart. A thriving community is always going to be more valuable to you than a few extra dollars; make sure to support them accordingly.

Your readership will start very small. In terms of marketing, this is your hardest time. A big readership does the majority of the marketing for you, but when you’re on your own, it takes a lot to convince anyone to give your stories a shot. It helps if you have an existing readership to leverage, which is what I did – I’d been writing Animorphs fanfiction on AO3 for years, and many of my first readers followed me over from there. If you have such a community that already has faith in your writing, leverage it. If you don’t, you can gain one my writing in a place where people go to read stories similar to your work, such as an appropriate subreddit, or a web serial site like Royal Road or Scribblehub. You are looking to gain as high a number of enthusiastic, engaged readers as possible.

And now, the fun part – the actual craft!

The Writing Part

1. Always remember that you are writing for two audiences

A web serial author has to keep two audiences in mind; the serial readers, and the bingers. You are writing a story that needs to be fun and engaging when read very slowly, at the pace of whatever your update schedule is, but that also needs to be interesting when read all at once.

This is not an easy task.

It’s something I fucked up pretty significantly with Curse Words, which was my first attempt at this. Curse Words has a lot of complicated political stuff happening throughout pretty much the whole story, as well as a complex save-the-world plot that’s reliant on a lot of secrets, mysteries and extremely speculative information. With so many wheels spinning, I decided to make the protagonist not particularly smart and move him very slowly through the plot to make sure that the reader would be able to keep up.

This was a mistake.

‘Pretty slow and simple’ at a novel reader’s pace is torturous at a web serial pace. Readers got a full week to discuss the mysteries and implications of each chapter with each other, doing the detective work of ten chapters between each one. The frustration with Kayden’s slow pace was clear, and he came across as an outright idiot rather than an average teen. Personally, I think this lesson was one of the biggest reasons for the difference in quality between Curse Words and Time to Orbit. Don’t slow down for your audience; they’re already slowed down by your update schedule.

At the same time, though, you don’t want to move so fast that you lose the bingers. You can’t assume that your readers will have time between chapters, or that they will discuss each chapter with other readers, or that they will go back over previous chapters looking for clues. Interested people reading update by update will do this, but bingers absolutely will not. So you still need to make sure that everything is comprehensible on a binge read with no backchecking or outside investigation.

My advice on this matter is to move as fast as possible, but take care to make sure that readers are reminded of everything important a few chapters before it comes into play. That way, both audiences can keep up. If you have to make a decision, it’s best to favour your update readers; they’re your most active community. They’re doing the up-to-date discussion, and probably doing the most word-of-mouth and fanart, although binge readers will do that too (I have plenty of dedicated readers who wait five or six weeks to binge a bunch of chapters on purpose, just because that’s their preferred reading style, and they’re still very engaged). But if you plan to publish your story later as a complete work, you also need to keep in mind how it’s going to read as a binge – and also, new readers will binge the earlier chapters of your story to catch up to the current one, so make sure it’s a good experience for them or they won’t get a chance to become update readers.

Two audiences. Mind your pacing and information reveals accordingly.

2. Chapter length

The general rule of web serials is that the more often you update, the shorter your chapters should be. The generally agreed ‘sweet spot’ is 1-1.5k words, 3 times a week, but this depends heavily on individual style. I update once or twice a week (depending on what stories I’ve got going) and try to keep my chapters between 2 and 2.5k words. If you update once a month, your sweet spot is probably about 10k words.

Don’t hold religiously to what other people tell you the ideal word count is – this will vary drastically with genre and personal style – but it’s best to try to stay fairly consistent. It’s not always possible to stay exactly on target because the best break points between chapters will vary (I’ve got 1.8k chapters and 3.5k chapters), but readers like to be able to predict about how long an update will be and they like it to not vary too wildly too often. As with choosing your update schedule, choosing your chapter length will depend on what suits your personal schedule, and what suits the story you’re writing.

“The shorter the chapter, the more frequent the updates” is a good rule for attracting the widest audience. Short, infrequent chapters will have a lot of readers losing interest between updates; long, frequent ones will have a lot of readers feeling overwhelmed. But the most important thing is finding something that you can consistently output year after year (remember, it took me 4 years to make $100/month; this is a long game).

3. It’s a TV show, not a movie

This advice is less useful in our age of Marvel movie franchises and made-to-binge Netflix series, so pretend I’m talking to you in the year 2010 or earlier. If a novel is a movie, a web serial is a TV show. What I mean by that is that a novel is shaped primarily as a complete experience, whereas a web serial is shaped as a chapter-by-chapter experience.

It’s best, in both cases, to have a well structures and paced story that is made of well structured and paced chapters. But sometimes you have to choose between the structure or a chapter and the structure of the story as a whole; making one better will cheapen the other. When you’re writing a novel, you should choose the structure of the whole, but when you’re writing a web serial, you should choose the structure of the chapter. Web serial readers will prefer a chained series of excellent chapters, over a beautiful story of chapters with mediocre individual structure.

In fact, whether you want a structure to the overall story at all is personal taste. My stories have strong overall structure and move towards a planned conclusion because that’s how I prefer to write (and it also makes the story bingeable, since it’s basically a novel being released really slowly), but plenty of web serials out there have no real planned ending and will wander about for years and years in no obviously consistent direction, occasionally throwing in a big twist or major change to freshen things up. These would make absolutely horrible novels, but make very popular web serials. Whether you write like me or like them, the rule is the same – the experience of each individual chapter takes priority.

Come to think of it, this might be why people call my stories “ADHD crack”…

4. Okay, so how do I structure a good chapter?

I generally try to do three things in every chapter.

- Hit the ground running

- Give them something new

- End on an open question

Hit the ground running – Unless it’s the very first chapter of the story, you don’t have to be coy getting into the action. Open the chapter as if it’s the middle of the chapter; start at full momentum. Catch the high point of the last chapter before it falls. It your last chapter ended with “We checked the fingerprints on the candlestick. It’s Colonel Mustard.” then you can start this one with “But he was in the library at the time!”, you don’t need to recap or slow down or anything.

Give them something new – Every chapter should give the reader at least one thing to talk and think about. A new choice, some new information, a shift in perspective, whatever. People are reading these updates one at a time so it is vital that they feel like they got something out of the experience. A chapter in which nothing is learned will make readers feel like their time was wasted, and they have all the time until next update to reflect on that.

This is also true of a novel, but it’s much more critical in a web serial. A novel with nothing chapters in it is just frustratingly slow-paced; a web serial with nothing chapters in it leaves the reader feeling cheated for long stretches of time.

The thing to talk about doesn’t necessarily have to be a big plot reveal or major advancement. An incredibly cute scene, or sad scene, or funny scene will work just as well. But you have to give them SOMETHING. If you’re giving them nothing, consider cutting the chapter entirely and integrating any important foreshadowing or whatever into the next chapter.

One major hurdle of mine with this rule is recap chapters. If you’re writing a very complex plot over a long period of time, you need ways to occasionally take stock and make sure everyone is on the same page and nobody’s forgotten or misinterpreted anything important. This information can be recapped or conveyed in the middle of an action sequence or something, but I personally find that putting other stuff in the scene makes it too distracting and therefore less effective. I like to literally just sit the heroes down in a room and have them go, “okay, we’re spinning a lot of threads at once right now; what do we know, what are we trying to figure out, and what are our next steps?” This is the literary equivalent of the save point or room full of health packs right before a boss battle. Game designers don’t put that room there to be nice; they do it so that they know exactly how much health you’re going to have going into the battle, and can structure it accordingly.

You can make these chapters entertaining with character banter, but you can’t really introduce new threads to talk about, except possibly as a twist right at the end. Introducing new information mid-recap distracts from the recap and makes it pointless. You might have something similar in your stories, chapters that are essential but don’t give the reader anything new to work with.

My advice for these is to just bite the bullet on this one. Release the chapter with nothing new to talk about. You can get away with doing this occasionally, if the chapter has a clear purpose (I get a lot of readers tell me that they appreciate my recap chapters). Readers who get nothing out of the chapter will shrug and talk about older stuff instead, so long as you only do this occasionally. But a chapter with no new information has a cost in opportunity and in reader patience, so only pay it if the chapter’s worth it.

End on an open question– End the chapter with a reason for the reader to come back. You want them to think about the story afterward and be eager to read the next chapter when it comes out. Adhering to this principle is probably why I have such a reputation for cliffhangers, although truth be told I don’t use nearly as many actual cliffhangers as people say, I just try to end by opening a question. By that I mean, the audience should always end a chapter asking a question, which can be something that will span dozens of chapters (“How can Colonel Mustard’s fignerprints be on the candlestick? Is he being framed? Does this mean that the candlestick was in the library and isn’t even the murder weapon?”) or span a single paragraph (“How will the narrator react to learning that Colonel Mustard lied about never touchign the candlestick?”) This could be the emotional height of a scene, or the point at which new information recontextualises everything. It could be the moment where the stakes are raised or an important assumption turns out to be false. Anything that makes the audience eager to learn what happens next will do.

There should always be at least one open question in your story, more if it’s thematically appropriate. You know how mmorpgs and crafting games and suchlike keep you playing for hours and hours by making sure you’re always near the end of an activity – keep playing til you reach the next level, oh but now we’re nearly at the end of this quest so we should complete that, oh but now we’re just 20 gold short of being able to buy that cool new armour so we should just… same trick. Readers should always have at least one ‘quest’, an open question that they’re following, and should always be close to an answer.

You don’t have to dramatically introduce an entirely new question each time; you can end a chapter by reminding the reader of an existing open question. I tend to be a fan of the Big Dramatic Reveal On The Last Line method (cliffhanger reputation), but you don’t have to do it that way. Indeed, it’s a good idea not to do it that way every single time, lest you get stuck in a rut; every chapter ending doesn’t have to be incredibly tense and snappy. Somebody mentioning that they wish they knew how they could get enough food to make it through the winter before a full paragraph of cuddling and falling asleep in their mother’s arms works just as well.

5. It will help if your story is good, but it isn’t required.

You don’t have to be very good at writing to do this.

It helps to be good at writing, of course, and I assume that since you’re asking me for tips, you’re the sort of person who wants to be as good at writing as you can. But there is some true hack garbage out there doing absolute numbers in the web serial circuit. I try not to harp on about this too much because Curse Words fans get really upset at me when I do, but I think most of us can agree that Curse Words kind of sucks. And that just sucks in an ‘author is still learning how to do this’ kind of way; there’s much worse writing, real bullshit Ready Player One-level writing, trucking along out there brilliantly.

The point I’m trying to make here is that this isn’t an industry where there’s any value in hesitating and wringing your hands and asking yourself if you’re a good enough writer to do it yet. You are. You can just start writing a web serial right now and so long as you consistently update, you’re probably already above average for the market. And your first one probably will suck (mine did), but it’ll teach you how to make a better one. I think that Time to Orbit: Unknown is passably okay, and it absolutely would not be passably okay if I hadn’t written Curse Words first. Just go for it. Try to write a quality story if you can, but if you can’t, it’s honestly not that big of a deal. What matters, truly matters, is that you are committed to improving your craft. And that means actually practicing your craft. Which means writing some chapters and setting up a release schedule.

Good luck.

[fluoneia]

further continuation of pitfighter!vi | part 1 | part 2

sypnosis. vi left an impression on you more then you thought she did. but, you left even more of an impression on her. and you can’t control a feeling like that, can you?

warnings. dom!vi, lowkey hate sex, use of a strap on, lots o angst !! (in the beginning), uhh i tweaked the timeline a lot so this doesn’t exactly follow everything going on. bear w me!

damn.

you were surprised vi stayed true to her word. it was two months since she initially left. you tried to move on with your life, forget her, and try to remember that she was with that someone that she mentioned.

if she stayed, that means she’s happy. right?

right?

stupid feelings. truth was, you wanted her to come back. she wasn’t just any other client to you at this point.

god, how did you get yourself into this mess? you vowed to not get involved with a client. yet, here you were.

“you seem distracted.” your friend, and co-worker says while she combs through your hair. you’d gotten close to her over the past two months, her being your only viable source of comfort in the moment.

you frown as you look into the mirror.

“it’s nothing.” you shake your hand, glancing down to your hands.

“are you sure?” asta cocked a brow as she placed the comb down. “come on. you’re acting so weird lately.”

you run your thumb over the indents of your palm, following your fingers.

“well..” you start, “i.. there was a client. around two months ago. she was..” you snort, “different, that’s for sure.”

“.. okay..” asta looks into space as she thought.

“she told me she wasn’t coming back— that she couldn’t. her heart was taken by this enforcer girl. said she couldn’t give her up.”

asta is quiet for a second. you turn to look at her. “.. so, what i’m getting from this, is you’re getting your heart involved in a client you took twice.”

“what?” your back straightens. “no! no, my heart isn’t involved, i’m just.. curious. that’s all.”

“uh-huh, okay.” asta snorts with a roll of her eye. “who is this, anyway?”

“oh, uh.. her name is vi.”

asta’s eyes widen so far her eyebrows shoot up. “the fucking vi? as in the vi everyone here hates?”

“i guess so.” you frown.

“hah! no way you’re falling for that little sadistic fuck.”

“asta!” i cry.

“i mean, seriously, y/n! she’s no good, especially for you.”

“i’m a whore in the undercity. i’m not exactly amazing.”

“still, though. i can’t believe you wound up having to take her as a client twice, i mean, are you alright after that?”

you glare. then, you smile at the memory. “actually..” you feel a blush creep on your cheeks. “you’d be surprised. it’s not just her that got to take control.”

“you.. vi? being submissive? oh, you’re crazy.”

“crazy good.” you snort, pushing off your chair. “besides, i’m not falling for her.”

“yeah. sure you aren’t.”

“i mean, i can’t, anyways. i’ve already made that mistake before and i’m not about to make it again. my heart is never being involved with my clients ever again.”

asta takes a second to respond. then, she says, “you know, sometimes it isn’t all that bad.” she shrugs. “i met my husband through this business.”

“it does more harm then good. plus, aren’t you two having problems because of the job that you met in?”

“well.. kind of. but still.” she places a hand on my shoulder, “not everything in your life has to be dictated because of what you do as a job to survive. it’s rare you feel a connection with your clients, right? especially you.”

“i don’t have a connection with her.”

“you keep telling yourself that.” asta chuckles, “that’s what i said about my husband before he started courting me.”

“whatever!” i cry, pushing her hand off me. “i have a client.”

“don’t go imaging it’s vi!”

“ugh, shut up asta!”

a week later, you’d made up your mind. obviously, vi wasn’t going to come back. it’d be best for you to just move on.

your hands tighten around eachother.

so damn stupid. you were so damn stupid. your feelings were so damn stupid— she went to you out of convenience, nothing more.

she was under the influence, on a sex drug nonetheless. you went too far with her. you never should have given in to her pleads in the first place.

“come on, slow-poke.”

you still.

“slow-poke is a bit cocky for you to say. i recall you saying i was moving too fast, when i tried to—“

“okay, are we seriously talking about that right now?”

you’d recognize that voice anywhere. it was haunting your thoughts for the past two months.

and you don’t dare lift your head. you feel your breath pick up as you glance forward.

your breath catches in your throat as your eyes land on her. on vi. what the hell was she doing here?

without another thought, you flick your hood over your head. your body curls in on yourself, staring at your feet as you walk forward, moving past her.

“you used to be all over me,” a posh, matter-of-fact voice says. “now, you can barely even look at me.”

“we’re on a mission, caitlyn. we’re not talking about our relationship right now.”

her voice becomes louder as you grow near.

“when will we?”

“soon! just.. just not now.” vi grumbled.

you try to ignore the warmth in your skin as you knock shoulders with her as you pass.

“hey! watch where you’re going—“

vi stops herself as you glance over your shoulder.

you watch as her eyes flicker, the redness seeping into her skin as she flushed.

“wha.. y/n?” she says in almost a whisper.

your eyes glide toward the girl beside her. a pretty woman, with sharp features and rich, navy hair, tied into a ponytail. she held herself so well.

no wonder vi was so enveloped in her.

vi feels like her heart is about to burst out of her chest. she glances toward caitlyn, who gives you a weird look as you stare at her.

what. the. fuck.

that’s all vi can think.

her eyes flicker between you and caitlyn.

vi watched as you slip the hood off your head. you bring your head up with an inhale, forcing a strong front.

“.. hey, vi. funny seeing you here.” you say in that soft tone that’s been haunting her thoughts and her dreams for months since you’ve been apart.

“you know this girl?” caitlyn says as she stares at you. you glance toward caitlyn, brows furrowing. she stared at you like you were filth— and you probably were, body being tainted by the hundreds of hands that have touched the most vulnerable of all— your body.

vi swallows. “yea.. yes, um—“ she closes her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose. “old friend.”

old friend? really?

you glare at her.

“can i, um.. can i have a second to talk to her? alone?”

vi’s hand rests on caitlyns shoulder. her skin looked so soft— so clean.

you try to ignore the flame of jealousy in your chest as caitlyn’s hand rests atop of vi’s, before nodding her head once.

“don’t take long.” caitlyn lets her hands drop to her sides. vi gives a small nod, shoulders relaxing as caitlyn steps back, moving out of earshot.

and then she turns to you.

“i thought you said you were never coming back.” you frown as your arms cross on your chest.

“this isn’t me coming back.” vi says curtly. “we’re on a mission.”

“a mission? are you some sort of enforcer now?”

vi says nothing.

you freeze.

“you.. you’re an enforcer.”

“temporarily.” vi raises a hand, “it’s not anything to do with—“

“just go.” you spit. “an enforcer from zaun. it’s not an honour to be labelled that, violet. you’re a pawn in whatever plan they’ve conjured up.”

“it’s a plan to help zaun.” vi says in a whisper as she glances at someone passing. she winced. “can we talk about this elsewhere? preferably not in an open alleyway?”

your eyes shift to the caitlyn girl she treasures so much. she’s staring at the two of you.

“or we could just not talk.” you push off the wall you’d been resting on, “continue on with your mission. you have no use of me, by the looks of it.”

“actually, i do. someone we’re looking for passed through babettes brothel, and we need a—“

“i’m not helping you with this.” you shake your head. “find another worker there to interrogate.”

“y/n.” vi says firmly.

“stop saying my name like that.” you narrow your eyes. “just because you were my client doesn’t entitle me to help you with your stupid investigation. you were a client to many there— ask them.”

“i was more then just a client and you know it.”

her face tightens with anger.

“not really,” you tut your tongue, “you paid, and i gave. nothing more.”

“you can’t be serious.” her hand finds your arm, and she leans closer, glancing around. “you took my virginity. that’s not nothing.”

“you were hardly a virgin when we first met.”

“yeah, not in.. that sense, i wasn’t.”

you hated that she was right. virginity was a prized thing for most people— hell, you used to hold principles like saving your virginity for marriage. and now, look where you were.

but, much like other people, you never forgot your first. a boy from piltover— you were young and naive, much like violet.

“i should have never done that.” you shake your head, “that was too far of me.”

vi’s eyes soften. she glances back at caitlyn, before looking to you. she steers you away, moving out of eyeshot.

“it’s not that i.. regret it. if that makes any difference.”

you huff.

“you said you weren’t coming back. yet, here you are.” you gesture.

“for a different reason.” she tightens her grip on my arm, “come on. help me with this investigation and i’ll leave you alone. for good.”

but that isn’t what you wanted. you didn’t want her to leave— you didn’t want her to be her right now, with her new prized girlfriend, but she was still here. you hated how your heart jumped with glee at that fact.

you inhale a deep breath, clenching your jaw.

“fine. i’ll help you.”

vi exhaled in relief. “thank you.” she whispers. her hand loosens on your shoulder, before slowly slipping off, her fingers trailing over your skin.

“what’s the big deal, anyways?” you furrow my brows.

“cait will tell you everything.” she cocks her head behind her. you nod your head, and follow her as you walk back to caitlyn. it hit you that she was tall, and it made her even more menacing— towering over you with a mean look on her face. you couldn’t tell if that was just her face, or she just didn’t like you. probably both.

“so she’ll help, then?” caitlyn says, turning to vi.

vi nods. “yeah.”

“i can’t promise i’ll actually be of help to you.” you cross my arms on your chest. “just because i agreed to tell you what i know doesn’t mean it’ll be any use.”

“worth a shot, right?” vi shrugs. i give her a brief nod.

“we can’t talk about this here.” caitlyn says.

you sigh. “we can go back to my house. it’s just ‘round the block. but again— i only have an hour.”

they give a nod of agreement. you inhale a deep breath, before paving a way back toward your house.

suddenly, you felt unconscious about your living space. you hadn’t cleaned it, and there was no doubt clothes left on the floor, leaving it a mess. you mentally curse yourself as you unlock the door, pushing it open.

“make yourselves comfortable.” you mumble, kicking some clothes out the way.

vi doesn’t take another glance at the house as she walks inside, following behind you. caitlyn hesitates, looking around the messy room, before following suit.

i grab a glass of water, jumping up onto my counter.

“alright. so, what did you need me for, exactly?” i look to caitlyn.

caitlyn slowly turns her head toward you. “oh— yes, um..” she clears her throat, obviously distracted. “a few days ago, someone passed through the brothel you work at.”

she fumbles through her bag. your eyes glance toward vi, who leans against the counter parallel to you, crossing her arms on her chest. the blue outfit just looked so.. off on her, yet, she still held herself the same.

she didn’t seem that bothered by the mess— partly because she’s seen it before, and partly because she’d already been in your house, in your bed—

stop it.

caitlyn places a sheet of paper on the island. i pick it up.

“have you seen this girl?”

your eyes move around the paper. you had seen this girl before— quite an oddball, but she was funny. blue hair, tied into long braids. your eyes train on the JINX — PILTOVER, WANTED.

“uh.. yeah.” you nod. you’d never expect her to be a wanted criminal, but who wasn’t down in the lanes?

“how? where did you see her last?” caitlyn says. there’s a gleam in her eyes as she leans closer.

“well.. maybe two or three days ago she came around the brothel during my shift. she was a client.”

vi pushes off the table abruptly. “you took my sister as a client?!” she stalks toward you.

“well, yeah.” you shrug. your eyes widen as you realize. “we.. no, she didn’t want anything.” uou chuckle at the memory, “she just wanted to talk.”

vi seems to calm down, her shoulders slouching. you give her a brief look, before turning to caitlyn.

“she.. i don’t know why she came to a brothel to just have a chat, but she isn’t the first one to do that. it’s honestly not that weird for clients to just want to talk like normal people when they have no one else.”

“i didn’t give it that much thought. i don’t remember much about her.”

you glare at vi. “not that it’d be any of your business what happens with my clients.”

vi puffs a breath of air through her nose, ripping her gaze away from you. she didn’t understand why she was so.. so jealous, so riled up over the memory that you still worked at the brothel, that you still took clients, that other people were touching you.

she had no right to be possessive, yet, here she was.

“.. anyway.” caitlyn clears her throat, brows furrowing as she senses the tension between you and vi, “what can you tell me about her? did she say anything about where she was going?”

you shake your head. “we talked for the hour she paid for, then she left. that was it. i didn’t see where she went.”

caitlyn sighs in frustration. vi looks to her, “this was a big waste of time.”

“it was the only lead we had.” caitlyn pushes off the wall. “if we ask some of the other workers, they’ll probably have seen the direction she went.”

“at this point we’ll miss the last departure. it’s too long of a walk back to piltover if we want to be safe.”

“we can’t leave while the trail is hot! if we wait another day, it’s just another night wasted.”

you h ump off the counter. “just stay here.” you place your glass in the sink, “i have a guest bedroom.”

that was a horrible idea.

it was like your mouth was on autopilot as you say this— stuck on the fact that if vi left now, you’d never see her again. it was stupid if you to offer, yet, you couldn’t stop yourself from doing it.

caitlyn glances toward you. then to vi. she raises her eyebrows as if to say, “well?”

oh, and vi was even more stuck. seeing you again drove her crazy— much less sleeping in the same house again. no doubt it’d grab at her head, keeping her awake at the last memory in this very house.

her chest puffed as she tried to regulate her breath. she wasn’t sure if she could handle herself in such close proximity to you again. it’d surely drive her mad.

but, she too was stuck on the fact that this might be the last time she saw you.

so, vi nods. “sure.” she chokes. her voice is tight as she avoids her eyes, glancing down at her feet.

you huff at the memory of your shift.

“the guest bedroom is just down the hall. make yourselves comfortable.” you move past them, shoulder grazing with vi’s— on purpose, on accident, you couldn’t tell. “i’ll be back soon.”

you still as you see caitlyn move out of the kitchen, glancing around. once she was out of earshot, you back up a few steps.

“oh, and, vi?” you lean closer to her, moving to her ear. “try to control yourself. i can sense your tension from a mile away.” you rest your hand on vi’s shoulder. “if you want me to take care of that.. another time, yeah?”

you pull away without another word, giggling under your breath. you pat vi’s shoulder as you slip away, grabbing your coat and bringing it around your shoulders.

and as you close the door, you leave vi’s head in utter shambles again.

she stands in the same spot, mind processing your words.

try to control herself? after you’ve just said that, and you’re looking like the most beautiful women she’s laid her eyes on?

fat chance.

she’ll get you eventually.

you were released early from your shift, as the night was slow. you kind of dreaded getting back to your apartment, knowing both vi and caitlyn were there.

you wanted to help them. honestly. but you werent sure what would.

your mind recalled the memory of that jinx girl.

you remembered you tried to advance on her— assuming that’s what she wanted, like many other clients. but she stopped you.

she surely wasn’t well. rambling on about life and death, about family, and about how no one can be trusted, and all that.

and after that, she disappeared as soon as she payed. you turned to say goodbye, but she was already gone.

you huff as you open your apartment door, slipping your coat off your shoulders. you hear laughing from your living room, and walk toward it.

as you turn the corner, you see caitlyn and vi laughing together.

“vi, i’m serious!”

you linger in the background as you watch them.

“i mean, the look on my fathers face. he couldn’t believe it at first.”

“well, you won’t be able to get rid of me, anyway.”

your face tightens as you watch her place her head on caitlyns shoulder. she spins a pen in her hand.

“i’m the dirt under your nails, cupcake.”

you decide to leave it alone there.

you step back, running a hand over your neck. so she was happy. you grimace as you walk down the hall, entering your bathroom.

“stupid.” you’d whisper to yourself.

here you thought you had vi wrapped around your finger. but really, you were wrapped around hers.

asta was right, anyway. she was no good for you, and you were no good for her. she was right in the fact that your heart was involved. it was involved tenfold.

you were stupid to ever think that you and vi had a chance.

you were a whore from the undercity. she’s an enforcer now.

nonetheless, she was still from the undercity. she was still a zaunite, just like you.

you strip yourself of your clothes. you step into your steaming shower, and let the water run over your body, your hair.

you close your eyes as you try to drown out your thoughts.

it wasn’t until midnight you left your bathroom.

the house was quiet. you deemed that they had gone to sleep, and move toward your room.

you throw on one of your favourite sets— a gift from a reoccurring piltover client from when you used to work there. you loved the silk texture, the white pearly fabric.

and since you hadn’t eaten much today, you move toward your kitchen.

you huff as you walk down the hallway, quiet against the hardwood floor. you grab your glass from the sink, turning on the tap.

“y/n.” a voice says behind you. you jump, spinning around.

“oh. it’s just you.” you sigh in relief as your eyes land on the familiar black of her hair. vi sauntered toward you, leaning against the counter.

“i.. i had a question.” vi whispers. her voice is laced with sleep— she had stayed up to talk to you. alone, finally.

you stare at your hands as you pour the water down the sink, picking up a bag of pretzels. “and what’s that?”

vi bit her tongue. then, she spoke. “what did you mean, before?”

you furrow your brows.

“when you said.. if you want me to take care of that.” vi shuffles. “you said, another time.”

you still. youd forgotten youd said that— mostly to test the waters around her.

“what did you think i meant?” you hum, placing a pretzel on your tongue. you lean your hip against the counter parallel to her.

vi says nothing.

“look— if you’re gonna act clueless, whatever.” you scoff. “but don’t rope me into something that’ll just cause a mess.”

you turn away from her.

as you move, your stopped by a hand on your wrist. she yanks you backward, your back landing harshly on her chest.

you gasp.

“i don’t really care if it causes a mess.”

you feel her breath on your shoulder. her hand smooths over your hip, pulling you against her.

“you’ve been messing with me ever since we bumped into eachother in that alleyway.”

you stare harshly at the wall in front of you. her thumb dips into the fabric of your shorts, resting it there.

“and you show up in these little shorts and expect me to contain myself?”

you feel her lips against your ear.

“what’s with the sudden switch up?” you say breathily, head leaning against her shoulder.

“you know what you’re doing.” violet scoffs against your ear. you feel your skin blaze alight as she presses her lips to your neck. you feel her tongue glide across your skin.

“violet.” you say harshly. you’re not sure how you feel about the sudden change in the air— vi wasn’t the girl she was last time she was here, no, she was how she was in the brothel the first night you met.

this girl really did give you whiplash.

“this is wrong.” you say, hand placing over the hand on your hip. despite your words, you lean into her touch. “aren’t you with caitlyn?”

vi stills for a second at caitlyn’s name. “one more night can’t hurt.”

“that’s what i thought the last time we met.” you hum, leaning into her touch. “one more night.”

vi spun you around, stalking forward, pushing you back until your back hit the counter. her arms caged around you, her eyes so dark, so unrecognizable.

all night, vi had been thinking about how you’re working your shift, having other people touch you. all night, she thought about you.

all she wanted right now was to distinguish herself from the others— to prove to you that unlike all the others, she cared. she cared for your pleasure, she cared for you, despite her mind screaming at her that she shouldn’t.

another wave of jealousy washes over her. she leans closer, hands gliding over your stomach, pushing up the silk shirt.

“you remember how you said to stop thinking so much around you?” vi says with a smirk, nose touching eachothers, her lips parted. you feel her breath on your skin, her hands on your stomach. they truly did feel warm, so calming, so right, unlike the others who have touched you there. you didn’t feel violated under vi’s touch, you felt.. comforted. it gave you a chance to actually feel the pleasure of another persons hand, rather then focusing on giving pleasure.

her hand splays against your back. her lips were so close to yours, merely one movement away. you wanted nothing more then to feel them again.

“that’s what i’m doing.” vi says, voice husky. “cmon.” she gives a toothy smile. “don’t leave me hanging here, cupcake.”

and it’s like everything changed.

your face closes to a deadpan. you push her off, slamming your fists on her chest.

“wha..” vi gives you a look of confusion.

“you’re so.. arrogant!” you lower your voice as you remember caitlyn is still there— the same caitlyn that vi had said that same nickname too a mere few hours ago. “and stupid!”

“what the hell are you talking about?” vi’s brows furrow.

“that nickname.” you spit. “you’d dare to call me that after using it on caitlyn?”

her mind recalls the memory.

i’m the dirt under your nails, cupcake.

her eyes widen. truth was, she was thinking about you when she said that. she said it because she’s your dirt underneath your nails. she came, and now she’s never going to leave, like a thorn in your side.

“really?” vi deadpans. “that’s what you’re worked up about?”

you purse your lips.

she lets out a chuckle that only fuels your anger. she takes a step toward you, before lowering her voice.

“i knew you were listening.” vi explained, “i was saying that to you.”

you still.

“though, this jealous side of you is kind of cute.”

“shut up.”

“just saying. now, can you stop throwing a fit? kind of holding myself back here.”

“ugh, shut up!” you cry before you grab her face, crashing your lips against hers. vi stilled for a second, taken aback, but she feels a rush of passion flow through her body.

her hands are on you in an instant— clawing, grabbing at your clothes so roughly. her lips are just as you remembered; soft. yet this time, they held a sense of dominance unlike the last time you kissed her.

she hummed against you. and you feel so much.. anger, hatred, jealousy, desire. vi was enjoying this way too much, and you hated that.

you feel her hands on your hips once more, her tongue gliding against your bottom lip, as if asking for permission. you give it by pushing your tongue past her lips, her own finding yours as they tangle and dance for a sense of dominance— to see which way will overtake.

but vi leaves no room for argument. her fingers dig into the skin on your thighs. you squeal as your brought from the floor, her hands holding you up as she picks you up.

your legs dangle loosely around her torso, hand smoothing into her hair, pulling, tugging, holding on so she’s forced to never leave.

you didn’t really know where you were going, but now, you were moving. her tongue glided through your mouth, running along your teeth, your tongue, your gums, everywhere, forcing herself through every part of your mouth until there was nothing left.

and oh, did you miss this feeling.

this feeling of passion, of lust, of desire. this feeling of recklessness. you both know you shouldn’t be doing this— but who can stop desire?

you realize she had guided you to your room when you feel your back hit the fur of your bedspread. she pressed herself between your legs, pulling away from you.

“fuck..” she whispered under her breath, hands smoothing up your stomach, cupping your barely clothed breasts.

“don’t talk.” you loose out, grabbing her face again and pulling her lips back onto yours. she takes that as an understanding, fingers unhooking every button oh so slowly.

you lift yourself off the bed to tear the shirt off your shoulders, throwing it to the side.

vi’s eyes flicker as she pulls away, looking at your body. her eyes land on your budding breasts. just so fucking beautiful. every bit and piece of you was perfect in violets eyes, and she hated how she felt that way.

“i missed you.” she whispers, both forgetting and ignoring your demand of silence. she pulls away, taking her jacket off of her shoulders. clothes fly in a haste, leaving you both naked in mere minutes— well, you naked. she kept her bandages on.

you can’t help the next thing you say. “missed me or missed my body?” you huff, sitting up on your elbows.

vi’s brows furrow. her nose twitches, before she crashed her lips back against yours without a word.

ah. got it. you’d think.

whatever. you shouldn’t have expected much with a hookup.

truth was, vi didn’t know. she didn’t know if her actions were based off purely lust, or something else. she tried not to think about it much— she couldn’t think much, anyways. you were just so soft, so beautiful.

her hands smooth over your body, and you were so drunk on her touch you decided not to care about anything else. her hands, touching you, possessing every part of you.

vi’s lips leave yours, trailing kisses down your jaw, onto your neck. you relish in the feel of her tongue, of her teeth scraping against your skin. her hands, smoothing over your thigh, toying with the strand of your panties. you feel your mouth go agape as her tongue glides over your neck, leaving red splotches, marking you.

you gasp as you feel her hands quiver over your clothed core, pressing so gently it made you whine. she was toying you, being so gentle when she knew you wanted her to be rough.

“don’t think i’ve forgotten.”

you couldn’t process her words— not when her fingers slipped underneath the cloth and dipped into your slick. your head throws back, a jolt of pleasure ripping all throughout your body. a shock to your nerves— finally, a touch that was pleasurable.

“oh, you’ve forgotten, haven’t you?”

your brows furrowed. what the hell was she talking about?

you let your mind fog again when her fingers dip inside of you, pressing so deep. you gasp, feeling your skin grow ablaze, the ache in your stomach only growing. you grasp onto the bedsheets, shocked at how fast this was moving— ten minutes ago, you were accepting the loss of whatever this relationship was. now you were thinking, what the fuck is wrong with me?

“you’re gonna feel everything i felt that night.”

she says this so close to your ear. you feel her breath on the shell of your ear, her teeth nipping at your skin.

“though, you won’t be under a drug like i was. i’ll just have to make up for that.”

her fingers press up as if to further move her point. you let your eyes close, body leaning toward her, hips pressing against her wrist.

“where do you keep those things, hm?”

“what the fuck are you talking about?” you huff, eyes slowly opening to look at her.

“you know,” she leaned closer. oh god, her eyes. that smirk. you were done for.

your brows furrow as you thought. her fingers slipped out of you, causing you to frown at the loss of her touch.

she ran a hand through her hair as she looked around, before reaching over you to open a drawer. your eyes catch on the glimpse of her bicep, a glimpse of the tattoo that ran down her back. gods, it only turned you on further.

“ah.” she says. you’d hear her fumble with something before moving back to you.

and your eyes shift to the thing in her hand.

one of the strap ons you owned— and never used, just by the sheer size of it. black, girthy, and big.

“nonono, violet—“you back away from her. she could not use that one, not now.

“oh, yes.”

there’s a certain gleam in her eyes as her hand grabs your hip, pulling you closer to you.

“told you.” she says as she leans back, fumbling with the straps. “i’m gonna get you back.”

you were in for it now.

for someone who’d never used a strap on before, you were pleasantly shocked.

you’d moan into your pillow as her hips slam against yours, over and over and over again. her hand smoothed over your back, pressing it down so your hips pushed up.

you’d never felt this.. this good, this full.

your entire body shook, every bone weak and practically useless. it took everything in you to hold yourself up, to not pull away from her, from her hips.

“oh—“ you groan, “vi!” you’d lost yourself, suddenly not caring about your voice. once vi realized that, she dragged her hand under to your chest, pulling you flush against her.

her hand moved over your mouth, silencing your cries.

at the new angle, she only pushed deeper.

your eyes widen, every nerve, every muscle twitching and shaking with pleasure. you couldn’t handle it, you simply couldn’t.

“not so tough now, huh?” she huffed, her voice out of breath and tight. you feel her being her hips back, just barely, before pushing back into you with such force you felt tears well into your eyes.

how could one woman have this much stamina?

you’d lost count at the amount of climax’s she’s brought you to.

she abruptly pulled out of you, flipping you over, pressing your back against the bed. it was like your body was drained of any sort of will— her strength easily able to manhandle you in every way she could, every position she wanted you in.

she placed herself back inbetween your legs. you saw that smirk on her face, so cocky and confident.

you couldn’t form words to comment something about it.

she brushed her hand over her forehead, inhaling a deep breath of air.

“i kind of like this.” she said breathily as she lowered her hand, aligning the tip of the silicone cock to your hole. as you feel her push back inside you, you let out a damned scream.

she’s quick to cover it, lips pressing against yours to silence your cries.

your legs touched either side of the bed, her hands pinning them down. your hips ached at the stretch— your core ached at the raw stretch the strap-on gave you, and as she pressed further deep inside of you, you swore you saw stars.

“god, oh, i— fuck!” you cry against her lips, hands gripping so hard on her back, nails digging into her skin, leaving crescent marks on her shoulders.

“shh, shh..” she hushed, hand smoothing across your thigh as a sense of comfort, yet, it only riled you up more.

she was so deep, so insanely deep— somewhere surely no one’s ever touched before.

“wouldn’t want anyone to hear you, would you?” she’d taunt, “see you in this position..”

her hips pull back, before bullying her way back into you, at such a slowed, tedious pace— to mess with you, no doubt.

you didn’t care. you didn’t care for anything— you couldn’t, not after this. you were sure you’d never felt anything like it— it was even better then the first night at the brothel.

“i— i can’t—“ you’d cry, head pushing into the pillow to hide your face. you just.. felt so fulfilled.

“oh yes, you can.” she mumbles, eyes flickering over every expression you’d made, engraving it in her mind.

her hips were flush against yours, filling you to the brim. her body pressed against your chest, her hands moving to grip onto the pillow on either side of your head.

“oh, fuck.” she said so softly, wincing as she felt the pressure against her own clit. then, her hips pulled back, and slammed right back into you. she found out, in this new position, it also gave her pleasure.

with how sensitive she was, even the short amount of pressure could help the ache between her legs.

a gleam found her eyes.

her pace became faster, harder, like a damned piston jolting inside of you.

you bite hard into your lip, hands falling limp and falling on either side of you.

“a little longer, princess..” she huffed into your ear. “come on, you can take it.”

“no, i—!” you cry, legs clamping around her torso. “mmmph—“

“just..” she let out a sharp exhale, adjusting her hips so the base hit her clit just right. she moaned into your ear, eyes rolling back, and the sight was just so damn beautiful.

you feel the cord in your stomach grow hot, your body shaking with every thrust she made.

at this rate, you weren’t sure how much you could handle— it was too much vi, so much vi, you were going to go mad. vi, vi, vi.

“oh, vivivi—“ you whined, your body riling itself up, again and again, over and over, each thrust bringing you closer to the familiar taste of an orgasm.

you were scared. scared of the feeling, of the pure pleasure that coursed through your body each and every time. scared of that feeling, of that blinding— oh, god!

your eyes shut closed, your legs clamped around her as that familiar snap of your orgasm flooded through you.

“say my name.”

“v..” you attempted. and then, you deflate against the matress. “vio..”

“come on, you can do it.”

her hips were relentless, forcing you through your orgasm. your body aches with overstimulation, threatening to burst with each and every second.

“say my name.” she says it more directly, nearly damn demanding you to. her voice is a growl against your ear, her hips picking up in pace.

“oh, violet!” you cry, voice cracking.

vi let out a loud moan, her head pressing against your neck, whining against your skin.

and then, she deflated above you.

your body jolts and shakes with every flow of energy, every flow of pleasure. you were so fulfilled, so full, finally getting what your body had been aching for, begging for.

a proper fuck.

a proper fuck from vi.

you had vi. and that was all you needed, even if it was only for the times being.

you yelp as she flips you over, resting you on her chest. she pressed her hips deeper inside of you, and you gasp.

“n.. no! no, no more.” you cry, your head falling against her chest.

“don’t worry.” she says as she caged her arms around you, hands resting tightly on your waist. her hands run up your back. “i won’t push you.”

you let out a sigh of relief.

you fell into a silence.

it was hard for your body to recover from your orgasms when the strap-on was still inside you, pressing into that spot. with every shift she made, you felt your body rile up again.

a beat of silence.

another.

you hear your click tick. you feel her chest go up and down with her breath. you hear her heart beat.

.

.

“i missed you.”

she says this so softly. her arms tighten around your torso, her nose nuzzling into your hair.

“not your body.”

a/n. uh.. hey.. sorry this took so long LOL anyway this kid kind of rushed i apologize and it kind of sucks but blushes thank u for all the support on this little mini saga that stemmed off a one shot 🤗

taglist. @just-levyy @princesssmars @thesevi0lentdelights @kissyslut @devotedlyelectronicartisan @cheyisagirlkisser @maracujais @n1shuu @vivispace @elliecoochieeater @izu-lu @wanna1be0 @honeybunbunnie @yariany02 @dumblilb @lalalalal16 @vyvvycg @ayooooohush @slvtformilfs @the-disaster-in-waiting (some of ur tags didn’t work im sorry :( )

[pomefioredove]

Hiya! I'm the one who requested the Siren thingy from some time back! LOVED IT BTW!

But anyways, since oneshots are opened, I was wondering if It's possible to do a one shot with Leona and a Reader who has a very intimidating appearance but is actually a sweetheart. They even own a motorcycle that they drive around on and often wear skates on campus!

leona fic... I've been itching to write him lately idk why... thank you anon!!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ "dangerous"

type of post: fic characters: leona additional info: romantic or platonic, reader is gender neutral, reader is not specified to be yuu, CUDDLES!!!

So, you're "intimidating".

He supposes you're in the right place for that.

After "meeting" you (you accidentally skated over Ruggie's foot, which was very funny, but still annoying), Leona had dismissed you as yet another NRC showoff with something to prove.

He'd been at Night Raven College for a decent time, now, and he'd seen your type before. Intimidating, fast, dangerous.

Leona had heard the way the other students talked about you. The whispers, the gossip, even the quiet looks of awe/fear were worth a thousand words.

His thoughts? Whatever.

To him, you were another herbivore in need of a serious ego check. And, more importantly: not his problem.

Until today.

"And beat it," he says, shoving the two Savanaclaw first years he'd caught cornering some poor piece of meat in the hall.

"You're gonna give me a damn headache."

The two scamper off, tails between their legs. Leona sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. "Damn froshes..."

Can't anyone at this school behave? Showoffs.

If he so much as gets a sticky note from staff about his freshmen causing trouble... again... Sigh. Nothing a good nap can't fix.

He's about to find a warm place to sleep when he feels something in his hand. Leona would jump if he were anyone else.

But he's not. So, he looks down to see... you. The poor piece of meat in question.

Holding his hand.

"Thank you," you chirp.

He raises an eyebrow. It's not every day some herbivore has the guts to touch him like that.

So damn sweet he can feel his teeth rotting from that look alone.

"I wasn't 'doin it for you," he takes his hand back and begins walking.

He makes it halfway down the hall before his ears flick towards the sound of footsteps behind him. He turns, and you're there.

Leona gives you a warning glare, and he keeps walking.

Again, footsteps. He looks over his shoulder. "Beat it,"

He keeps walking. If you weren't giving him that damn look, so innocent and sweet at witless, he might've assumed you were trying to pick a fight.

You're either stupid or brave, following him into the lion's den.

But you do, from the hall to the botanical gardens, from the door to his favorite spot.

For whatever reason, he lets you. Something about that look on your face...

"Y'know, if you're trying to hunt, you're not doing a good job," Leona yawns, stretching out in a patch of sunlight.

"Oh," you say. "I'm not."

"Obviously,"

He closes his eyes. You just stand there. He clears his throat. You still don't move.

Finally, he sits up. "What're you, looking for handouts? Go bother someone else, I've already got a moocher,"

"I'm not, I just..."

He raises an eyebrow. "You what?"

You seem hesitant, your hands folded oh-so-politely. For all the talk he'd heard about you, you're really... rather...

"You're nice to me,"

Sweet.

Leona scoffs. "That's it? I'm nice to you?"

You say nothing. That question answers itself, anyway- and, yet, doesn't annoy him, either. You must have a piss-poor life if you think he's nice.

It makes Leona's chest feel warm. Damn it.

"Fine," he sighs. Damn it. And he scoots over to make room for you in the patch of sunlight. Damn it.

You sit beside him, and he wraps an arm around your waist, and pulls you into his side. He watches you get comfortable.

"You're a real sweetheart, y'know that? You're not gonna survive long at this school," he mumbles. "But I guess you know that, huh? That's why you're here."

You nod. Damn it. When'd he get so weak?

"Just... don't get too used to it," he says. "This is a one-time thing."

(Spoiler: it was not).

[ultraericthered]

#i got to screen Wish before it released during a school trip and let me tell you something #even though we noticed the glaring problems with that movie immediately #i also noticed something i dont think many others did at that time #there was so much talent and potential being held back. if you read closely you can pick up on a cry for help from the creatives behind it #i want to elaborate but i think if you know. you know #and if you don't.. this post does a good job of shining a light on a small part of that cry for you #despite its many issues i think i still liked Wish. Not because i think it was a good movie but bc i think it could have been a great one had circumstances been different. #my heart goes out to those who put their souls and everything they had into that movie and others in similar situations #some of the creators had given a small talk before the screening and to me they seemed very emotional about it #i think what many people forget is that nobody can see a project's flaws better than the people who worked on it #but what they also see and you can't is everything more it was meant to be #please remember that the core of many issues in any project is that the people with the talent often do not have power to call the shots

Yes, all of that. And I find it ironic that the gifed scene is the one that got people saying "Hey, King Magnifico's not really much of a villain, he's got a good point! He's just upholding his part of a social contract with his citizenry and doing what he, as king, needs to do to protect their wishes but also protect Rosas by ruling out granting any wishes that might backfire and have dangerous repercussions for the kingdom and the lives of the people! Asha's just an ignorant spoiled brat for demanding anything more of him! Magnifico Did Nothing Wrong!" So when you take that position on what you're being shown by the story and not scratching the surface to look at what Magnifico is doing in-universe by not giving back the wishes he knows he will not grant and knows the people who gave them to him cannot remember and what the out-of-universe subtext of this is, you're siding with the Disney Corporate Executive Overlords. You're siding with Bob Iger's "they're not being realistic with their expectations" argument. You're siding with Chapek and Iger's practices done under excuses like "It doesn't fit the Disney brand", "mass appeal stories over personal ones", "people don't want to go and pay to see movies with girly princess titles", etc. You're siding with their practices of dumping content straight to streaming (or onto Disney+ not too long after they've hit theaters or TV) even when that actually limits profits that the actual creative teams can make from their own work, of tampering with the artists visions and how the finished product turns out and then punishing those artists if it doesn't turn out well, and of ignoring ideas for original creations in favor of contiunally milking their popular (and profitable) existing IPs. You're siding with people who make up an entire entity that say loudly to the faces of all those who put in the work, the skills, the talent, the passion and dedication to create art and content they feel people deserve to enjoy, in the forms they deserve to enjoy them "I decide what everyone deserves!"

Capitalism errodes into a force for human evil when the people at the top prove susceptible to three things in excess beyond mere greed and self-interest: unchecked power, irresponsibility, and indecency. King Magnifico is allegorical for that evil, with a bit of a communist dictator angle to him too since that's the end point of those exact same excesses and extremes for socialism. He's a major problematic fave for all kinds of reasons, but anyone who wants to tell me he's a good guy can kindly GTFO.

Wish (2023) dir. Fawn Veerasunthorn, Chris Buck

hey do you think the overworked creatives about to go on strike are trying to tell us something

article sources under the cut

Mattson, Kelcie. "How Disney Almost Killed 'Nimona.'" Collider, January 2 2024.

Earl, William. "Shelving Batgirl Was the Right Decision, Says New DC Studios Head Peter Safran: 'It Would Have Hurt DC.'" Variety, January 31 2023

Couch, Aaron. "Warner Bros. Reverses Course on 'Coyote vs. Acme' After Filmmakers Rebel." The Hollywood Reporter, November 13 2023.

Ridgely, Charlie. "Scoob! Sequel Director Revealed Film Was 'Very Close' to Completion Before HBO Max Cancellation." comicbook.com, August 2 2022.

Clark, Travis. "Staffers at the animation studio Blue Sky say it's 'heartbreaking' that Disney canceled its final movie, 'Nimona.'" Business Insider, February 18, 2021.

Harrison, Mark. "Why was the Batgirl movie cancelled?" Yahoo! Entertainment, January 31 2024.

Amidi, Amid. "Warner Bros. Shelves Fully-Completed 'Coyote Vs. Acme' For Tax Write-Off." Cartoon Brew, November 9 2023.

Lee, Alex. "Why Netflix keeps cancelling your favourite shows after two seasons." Wired UK, September 28 2020.

Tyrrell, Gary. "We All Knew It Was Coming." fleen.com, February 10 2021.

"Warner Bros. Reverses Course on ‘Coyote vs. Acme’ After Filmmakers Rebel." see: 3.

Bergeson, Samantha. "Warner Bros. Will Let 'Coyote Vs. Acme' Filmmakers Shop Movie to Other Distributors." IndieWire, November 13 2023.

Strapagiel, Lauren. "Disney's First Feature Animated Movie With Queer Leads May Never Be Released." BuzzfeedNews, February 24 2021.

"We All Knew It Was Coming." see: 9

@/scottderrickson. "I think it’s absolute bullshit that a studio can and does shelve the creative work of hundreds of people for a fucking tax break." Twitter, 10 Nov. 2023, 4:52 p.m..

[autonomousroboticorganism]

you hide attempt to hide an injury from them (TF Prime)

featuring - Optimus Prime x F!Reader, Bumblebee x F!Reader, Smokescreen x F!Reader, Knock Out x F!Reader, Wheeljack x F!Reader, Soundwave x F!Reader, Shockwave x F!Reader

summary - you play soccer and get injured, then try your best to play it off (Autobots), you get hurt on the Nemesis and try to play it off (Decepticons)

warnings - none

a/n - writing this the night before an extremely important soccer tournament my team is in, this tournament decides whether or not we go to the second highest woman's league in our country. in case anyone was wondering, one of my teammates did break her arm during one game so it's possible.

OPTIMUS PRIME - broken arm

You don't know how it happened. One minute you're making a tackle, the next you're rolling around on the ground clutching your arm. Your scream of pain alerted the referee, who promptly stopped the game so you could be rushed to the hospital. However, not wanting your big robot lover to worry, you put on a long sleeve shirt at home before going to the base so you could pretend nothing was wrong.

"(Name), why is your one arm thicker than the other?" Miko asked you, tilting her head as her eyes settled on your limp limb.

"Uh, no reason," you lied, then sighed when she gave you a look. "Okay, I broke my arm in a friendly work soccer game today. I just don't want Optimus to know. You know how he worries."

"You do know broken arms take weeks to heal right?" Jack raised an eyebrow. "How are you going to hide it for so long?"

"Hide what for so long?" The leader of the Autobots asked as he came into the room, having heard your voice. "(Name), I was just leaving to come fetch you."

"Oh, no need," you smiled, "I called for a groundbridge."

Jack and Miko exchanged looks, but it wasn't that that alerted the Prime. His gaze fell upon your arm, and though he was no expert in human biology, he definitely knew that they were supposed to be the same size.

"What happened?" He asked, approaching the platform. "What is wrong with your arm?"

As Jack and Miko gave you 'I told you so' looks, you were forced to tell him the truth about your injury, "I had a friendly soccer match today at work, a game we like to play. And I, uh, broke my arm."

The bot's optics went wide when you said that, and he gently took your broken arm into one of his servos, "Were you not going to tell me?"

"I didn't want you to worry," you told him. "You have enough to worry about already."

"I will always worry about you, regardless of what other problems I am facing," he scooped you up onto his servo entirely. "Please do not hesitate to tell me, so that I can assist you in any way you need."

You smiled softly, wrapping your good arm around his one digit in a half-hug, "Thank you, love. I'll try to be more careful next time."

The Prime nodded in agreement, then proceeded to carry you around the whole day and help you with whatever you needed or wanted to do. He then let you rest on him, knowing hurt humans needed just as much downtime as hurt Autobots.

BUMBLEBEE - sprained ankle

"I can do this, I can do this..."

"Uh...(Name)?"

You glanced up at your fellow humans as they gaped at you. YOu were sure you had been doing your best to look like you were walking normally, but from the expressions on their faces you assumed you were doing a terrible job.

"What happened?"

"Nothing?" You tried with a nervous smile.

"Come on," Jack encouraged, "You're obviously limping."

You groaned, "Okay, my soccer game was a little rougher than expected. In a difficult tackle, I fell and my foot twisted awkwardly. I have a minor sprain, so I should be good in a few days."

"Do you plan to tell Bee?"

"No, he's only going to worry. Please don't tell him."

Plan Don't Tell Bumblebee fell on its face when the Autobot rolled up to the school to fetch you and Raf. Arcee and Bulkhead also came through, so Raf left you on your own and joined Miko in Bulkhead.

"Raf!" You protested.

"Sorry!" He apologised sheepishly. "I can't do it!"

Once you were sitting in the passenger seat of the scout, he beeped in concern asking what was wrong with your foot.

Your jaw dropped, "How did you-"

He responded with a few more beeps, saying that he wouldn't be a very good scout if he didn't pick up on cues or signs while observing something. You sighed and looked down.

"I...sprained my ankle. In a soccer match."

Worried beeps and whirrs followed that admission, and he started fussing over you and telling you rest when you got back to base. That he would do all your running around or get Jack or Miko to help. And that you were to see June immediately.

"Bee," you whined in complaint, "It's a minor sprain! It'll be healed in a few days, I have a good biokineticist."

He wasn't having any of that, insisting that you see June or you don't get kisses or cuddles from him. You gaped at the steering wheel.

"Bumblebee!" You gasped. "You wouldn't dare!"

He beeped, try me.

"That's so mean," you pouted. "But fine. Since my boyfriend wants to be a big bad bully."

He protested, making you laugh, but proceeded to ensure that you did what he asked at the base. And that you didn't have to walk on your foot any longer than necessary. Overkill for a baby sprain, but you didn't play with kisses and cuddles from the bot.

SMOKESCREEN - torn hamstring

It was extremely difficult to hide this one. When it happened, you screamed and cried like you'd been shot in the leg, because that's exactly what it felt like. Tearing your hamstring was no joke, it was a serious injury that really hampered your ability to walk.

"He's not going to like this," Arcee shifted her weight, uneasy.

"Please?" You begged. "He's going to scold me like I scold him."

"Well, he's not going to be back for a few hours, so maybe we can come up with a story?" Bulkhead suggested, while June was tending to your injury.

"Like what?"

"Hey guys, what are we talking about?" The bot in question popped up behind Bulkhead, but thankfully couldn't see.

"Uh, nothing!" The Wrecker steered him away. "Nurse Darby is just taking a look at Raf. He has a bad cold." Everyone stared at Bulkhead, but he pointed at a very proud-looking Miko.

"Wait, but let me greet (Name)," Smokescreen tried to push hos way through. "She came just now, didn't she?"

"She's tired!" Arcee butted in, "Had a long day at university."

"Oh..." Smokescreen deflated. "Well then, tell her I hope she's not walking on that leg she injured." He said it so nonchalantly, you all had to do a double take.

"What?!"

"(Name)," your lover sighed, "I finished my mission early. Tailed you for most of the day. You don't think I would notice?"

You groaned, "It isn't what you think-"

"I just want to make sure you're okay," he bent down to look at you closer when the others finally parted to let him through. "My girlfriend is in pain, I want to help."

You smiled up at him, "You're so sweet, Smoke. Okay, I'll stay off this leg, Nurse Darby is giving me crutches anyway."

"Oh no, I'll carry you."

"Smoke...I have lectures..."

"You're not going."

"For weeks?"

"...Okay, just for the rest of this week," he suggested. "I want to spend time with my physically impaired girlfriend."

"Hey!" You protested. "Who taught Smokescreen those words?!"

Smokescreen just laughed as he scooped you up, gently so as not to aggravate your injury, and held you close to his chassis. He observed your bruised, swollen leg, lips twisting into a frown at the sight. He didn't like seeing you hurt, especially if he couldn't have protected you from it.

"Come on you, we're going to rest and watch movies for the rest of the week." You tried to protest, but he was having none of it.

He took you to his berthroom and lay you down in a comfortable position, making sure to elevate your leg so that you could rest comfortably.

KNOCK OUT - torn MCL (a knee ligament)

The moment your cry of pain echoed through the hallways of the Nemesis, every vehicon in the vicinity froze up. The mad doctor was sure to hear of this, and they could do nothing to stop the wrath he would no doubt inflict on them for this. They hadn't mean to hurt you, but they had also been a bit rougher than they were supposed to and this fact scared them.

"Please don't tell him," one of them pleaded with you.

"Fine, but one of you needs to carry me to his lab because I'm pretty sure I hurt my knee."

You had befriended some of them, others weren't keen on you, but you knew that these ones were being honest. Decepticons in general didn't know how to handle human beings, so it came as no surprise to you that you got hurt.

But Knock Out would strap them to his lab table and open them up if he found out, so you agreed to try and keep it a secret.

The vehicon carrying you lay you down on your boyfriend's tool table, before quickly scurrying out of the room. You watched Knock Out tend to a comatose Megatron, unsure if he had even heard you come in.

"What was that about?" He asked, confirming that he had.

"Oh, uh, nothing," you dismissed it, "I just got too tired to walk back, so I asked one of the vehicons to carry me back."

This got the mad doctor's attention, "What?" His optics zeroed in on you sitting on the table, and he instantly grew suspicious. You were normally active. "Where is your pain?"

"That's so unfair!" You crossed your arms. "You know me too well."

"I'm your boyfriend, darling," he smirked, "I should. Now tell me what those idiots did to you before I go ask them myself."

"We were just playing," you assured him, "I fell, tried to land on my legs and overextended my leg. I heard a pop in my knee, and then felt excruciating pain. Now it feels like my bones are knocking around if I try to walk."

"..." The medic was not amused. "When were you planning to tell me?"

"Uh..."

"You do realise they could have hurt you worse, or even..." He shut his optics and sighed, "Never mind. Let me see." He abandoned Megatron to come look at you, using a tool to scan your knee. "Hmmm, a ligament tear. Not a very serious one, but you'll still be on bedrest for six weeks."

"What?!"

"That's what you get for playing rough, my dear. Now come here, let me distract you from the pain."

His distraction in question was a kiss, before he researched what to do with your injury and got the necessary items to strap you up and brace your knee to stabilise it.

"No strenuous activity for six weeks, other than walking. Even then, keep it short and only when necessary."

"...Fine, Doc Knock."

"Don't call me that!"

WHEELJACK - shin splints

This one didn't kick in until a day after you'd played the game. You'd been teaching Wheeljack and Bulkhead how to play the human sport, and forgotten to properly stretch beforehand. You'd also forgotten that you hadn't played in months. So your shins were strained from overuse after months of inactivity, leaving an incredibly painful burning sensation the next day.

You tried to walk into base looking like you were fine, but your pained expression attracted attention from Bumblebee, who beeped in worry.

"Don't worry Bee, I'm fine," you smiled, but it was a tight one.

Wheeljack and Bulkhead returned from scouting an Energon mine a few moments later, the former immediately picking you up and placing you on his shoulder, missing the pain etched on your face.

"How was your day, sweetheart?" He asked you. "Got into any trouble?"

"No," you admitted, trying to sound upset about it. You also tried to appear nonchalant on his shoulder pad, but that was doing too much and ultimately outed you.

"And what might be the problem with you?" He turned his helm to study your figure. "What's hurting?"

"You don't miss a beat, do you?" You sighed.

"Not when it comes to my only reason for staying on this rock," he smirked, then held you up in his servo to be eye-level with him. "Now tell me, what happened?"

You sighed, "I kind of picked up an old injury after our session yesterday. Just shin splints, nothing serious. They're painful, but minor. They'll go away soon, they always do."

"Anything I can do to help?" He offered.

"Just maybe ask Nurse Darby for some ice, please?"

"You got it."

He set you down on the couch by the TV in the base, then went off to find June, or even Jack. He returned a few minutes later with an ice pack in his servo, and scooped you up again.

"I can press it to my shin myself, you know!" Your cheeks burned, getting flustered.

"Maybe I want to do it for you," he argued.

Your eyes went wide, and you grew even more flustered. An uncontrollable smile formed on your lips, and you lay back on his servo as he pressed the tiny bag to your shin.

"And don't hide any injury from me again, sweetheart."

SOUNDWAVE - concussion

This one was completely by accident and totally embarrassing. You were trying to find your own way up onto his berth, not wanting to bother him by calling for help. But you had made it only a few feet up the side before your foot slipped, and you fell. Your head hit the ground a little too hard, and your vision blurred for a moment. You groaned as you pushed yourself up, but your head began to throb uncontrollably.

"That's just great," you mumbled, rubbing your temples. But when you tried to stand up, you swayed on your feet and stumbled forward, unable to stay balanced. "Concussion, nice."

The Decepticon chose that moment to enter his berthroom, his helm tilting down slightly as he observed you for a moment. He already knew what had happened, he was the eyes and ears of the cons after all, so there was no point trying to hide it.

"I'm fine, Soundwave," you tried reassuring him, but you couldn't even walk to him in a straight line. "Okay, I'll BE fine soon."

He was having none of it, picking you up gently and laying you on his berth. His screen lit up with a question mark, a silent plea to tell him why you hadn't asked him for help.

"I didn't want to bother you," you admitted, casting your gaze to the floor. "You're busy with important stuff."

He bent down in front of you, pointing at you and displaying a red heart on his visor. Meaning - you were important to him too, and he cared about your wellbeing. Then he displayed another screen, which showed tutorials on how to ask for help.

"Ha, ha. So funny," you replied dryly. "But I'm sorry, I just wanted to try and not be useless or helpless for once."

He shook his head, denying that you were any of those. Then he put his visor close to your face, and typed one word onto it: Rest. He wanted you to relax, because you had sustained a concussion.

"Alright, alright," you gave in, laying back down on his berth. You smiled, feeling warm inside at his attempts to take care of you.

And he did so quite well for a Cybertronian accused of having no feeling or emotion. He made sure to get you painkillers and water, an ice pack, and your favourite snacks. How he got them, you didn't want to know. You were just grateful for the love he was showering you with.

SHOCKWAVE - broken nose

Shockwave wasn't in the lab for once, having been ordered by Megatron to go and retrieve more predacon remains. Starscream stormed in, absolutely furious with the Decepticon scientist, and when his optics landed on you he knew the perfect way to get back at Shockwave. Which was why you now lay on the ground, listening to Starscream's laughter fade as he left, tears streaming down your face with blood streaming out of your nose. It was broken, that much you knew, but you were in too much pain to get up.

But when you heard Shockwave's familiar heavy footsteps and his voice briefing Megatron outside, you quickly sat up and wiped your blood off the floor with your shirt, then ripped a piece off and tried to stop the bleeding. You turned away from the door, hoping Megatron and Shockwave wouldn't see you.

"(Name), is everything alright?"

You nodded, "Yes, I'm okay Shockwave. Don't worry."

"So that's what Starscream was so happy about," Megatron mused. "Tend to your pet, Shockwave, and then brief me on your latest developments." With that, he left the room.

"(Name), what happened?" Shockwave asked, picking you up off the floor. "Why is there blood on your clothes and a piece of your t-shirt in your nose?"

You sighed and pulled the reddened material out, allowing blood to gush out once more as you teared up, "Starscream." Your bottom lip trembled, and the pained expression on your face told Shockwave enough, as did the sight of your misshapen nose.

"I will tend to your wounds," your boyfriend began, "And then I will see to it that Starscream be punished for this inexcusable and cowardly act."

"Thank you," you responded quietly.

He helped stop your bleeding, and bandaged your nose. Then he made sure the rest of your body was fine, before he set you down on his table.

"Wait for me here, I shall return to give you physical affection after Starscream has been dealt with."

You smiled at him and nodded, warmth filling you at how much he cared about you and how much he was willing to do for you. You relaxed in the lab while he went to deal with Starscream, and when he returned he delivered the affection he promised. Which was mostly cradling you in his servo or letting you curl up against his neck cables. Nonetheless, you were happy and soon fell asleep as the pain medication kicked in.

[usomads]

You're My Problem // Tama Tonga x Reader

Author’s Note -> Hiiii, so idk how I feel about this honestly but I wanted to get my first Tama story out (we’re starving out here lol) and here’s what I came up with. Lmk if you have any recs for him, and as always, happy reading!!!

Plot -> You and Tama can’t stand each other. Locked in a room with him by force, will the two of you make up or will the hate continue?

Pairings -> Tama Tonga x Fem!Reader

Warnings -> Cursing, Choking, Degradation, Oral Receiving (M!Receiving, F!Receiving), Hair Pulling, Unprotected P in V, Creampie, MDNI

Word Count -> 2.4k

It was impossible to point to a specific incident that led to you and Tama despising each other so deeply, it seemed as if from the moment you met it was clear the two of you would never get along. You were assigned as a producer for the Bloodline storyline, which unfortunately meant that you were working closely with him every single week. None of the other members had a problem with you. In fact, they loved you, but Tama never shared that sentiment. So here you were in the Bloodline’s locker room trying to pitch the promo they’d be doing later in the night but, of course, Tama was being difficult as usual.

“You’re insufferable, you know that? I can’t even get this fuckin’ promo out without you bitching at me every five seconds. God, it’s like you do this shit on purpose-”

“Maybe you just don’t know how to do your fuckin’ job, you ever think of that, Y/N? Oh, I’m sorry, you’re never the problem, right? Shit goes sideways at least once a week but hey, it couldn’t possibly be Little Miss Perfect right?” 

“Oh, so now you think you can tell me how to do my own job? I don’t see the other three struggling with it, so that would just narrow it down to you, right? You wanna talk about me not doing my job right, look in the mirror assho-”

“Both of you, please, shut the fuck up already. It’s every week with this shit, I’m fuckin’ tired of it. Can you just get along, for once?” Sefa groaned, clearly annoyed with the two of you constantly arguing.

“Well if she weren’t such a stuck up bitch then ma-”

“The fuck did you just call me?!” You stood from your seat at Tama’s words, instantly being provoked but was stopped by Sefa stepping in front of you, preventing you from getting in Tama’s face.

“Jesus fuckin’ christ, enough. Both of you need to calm the fuck down-”

“Fuck you mean, ‘calm down’? Did you not just hear what he said? Now get outta my way so I can-”

“No, none of that shit. We got more important business to tend to. Y/N, your promo idea is great, like always. And Tama,” he looked in the Tongan’s direction, “that was fuckin’ uncalled for. I don’t give a fuck how much you don’t like her, callin’ her a bitch is not cool, uce. But both of you,” he pointed between the two of you, “need to figure out whatever this issue is. I can’t have y’all bitchin’ at each other all the time, shit’s annoying as hell. So you know what, I’ve got an idea…” Sefa trailed off. “Me, Jacob, and Tonga are gonna go talk to creative about some shit real quick, and you two,” he and the other two walked towards the door, “are gonna talk this shit out. And I’m not lettin’ y’all outta here until ‘til you do.” You and Tama both tried to say something to stop them but went ignored as Jacob, Tonga, and Sefa went out the door and closed it behind them, locking it in the process. You let out a huff of annoyance, slouching in your seat.

“You realize this is your fault, right?” You spoke out loud, not looking at Tama. “If you weren’t such a fuckin’ dick then we wouldn’t be here right now. Once again, you gotta fuck something up...” 

Tama laughed obnoxiously, “My fault? Oh, don’t act all fuckin’ innocent here, Y/N. You know damn well you had just as much a part in this as I did. Don’t play all innocent now, Sefa ain’t here to defend you.”

You stood up abruptly, ignoring him as you walked to the door and tested the doorknob, finding it was indeed locked. “You’ve gotta be kidding… he fuckin’ locked us in here?!”

Tama stood up and walked over to the door, brushing by you to try the door himself. “There’s no way he did that shit, you’re just being fuckin’ dramatic,” he twisted the knob to also find it locked, you scoffing as he had to try it himself. You step to him, forcing him to look at you as you spoke.

“What the fuck is your issue, Tama? I don’t get it,” you asked, demanding an answer. “Like, what the fuck did I ever do to you? I tried being nice to you at first, I really did, but you’ve been such a fuckin’ prick ever since I met you that you’ve made that literally impossible.” Tama fumed as he pushed your back against the door, stepping dangerously close to you. Your mind felt dizzy as he stood over you, him peering down at you with his intense gaze. Your stomach had all of a sudden become a bundle of nerves as you watched his face, anxious of what he might say or do, but deep down there was a small part of you that enjoyed how intimidated you were by him. You hated how much you enjoyed this, trying desperately to put those thoughts to the side and forget about them completely, but he wouldn’t let you. His stare wouldn’t let you. The heat emanating from his body wouldn’t let you. And his next words certainly wouldn’t either.

“You wanna know what my problem is, Y/N? You. You’re my problem.”

“Well, no shit, I fuckin’ knew that dumba-” your words caught in your throat as he stepped impossibly closer and wrapped a hand around your neck, your bodies nearly touching. You gasped at the feeling and felt your eyes begin to roll to the back of your head, trying hard to maintain a level of self control under his touch.

“My problem is every time you talk back or insult me, I wanna shove my cock down your throat right then and there to shut you up.” He growled. “Been tryin’ so hard not to ruin you since the moment I met you, ‘s why I been actin’ like I can’t stand your ass. But the more bold you been gettin’ with me,” he leaned down to your ear, “the more I wanna fuck that attitude of yours right outta ya.” You bite your lip at his words, trying your best to suppress the moans that are daring to fall off your lips. Tama raises his head and meets your gaze once more, watching you try desperately to contain yourself underneath him. Your breath quickens as his eyes scan your features, looking for any sign of surrender to him. “Not so bold anymore, huh?” Your lip bite morphs into a smirk, finding your confidence at his teasing remark.

“You gonna sit here and continue to talk outta your ass, or you gonna man up and fuckin’ kiss me already?”

He chuckles lowly before smashing his lips to yours, the grip on your throat tightening and a moan swallowed by your lips coming from his mouth. You grab him by the shirt and pull him closer, craving his touch as your lips dance along his. He forces his tongue in your mouth, dominating it as his other hand grips your hip. Wetness begins to pool at your core, the overwhelming sexual desire between you two palpable as you both fight for dominance. The two of you switch positions; Tama’s back against the door as you separate. Your swollen lips paint a smirk as your hands travel to the hem of his shirt, tugging on the fabric and prompting him to remove it. The bulge in his pants is prominent, silently aching for you as your fingers dance along his waistline. Tama watches your actions- watches you toy with him.

“Y/N, if you don’t…”

“Don’t what? You were the one who called me a bitch earlier, might as well play the part…” you begin to back away from him but his hand grabs your wrist tightly and pulls you to him.

“I don’t think so,” his eyes darken as he speaks to you in a commanding tone. “Get on your knees.”

“Make me.”

Tama grabs your shoulders, shoving you down and undoing his pants to free himself. His cock hits his stomach as he pulls his boxers down, veins prominently detailing the thick shaft as precum leaks from the swollen tip. You look up at him through your lashes, Tama taking a mental picture of the sight of your doe eyes making eye contact with his. To him, the sight of you peering up at him with bruised lips, mere inches away from having your mouth on him was the sexiest thing he’s ever witnessed. You give him a wink and wrap your hand around him, spitting on his dick and slowly stroking it. He groans when you touch him, weaving his fingers into your hair. Your tongue slowly trails from base to tip, tracing the outlines of his veins and giving kitten licks to the swollen head, making him shiver.

“Mmm, fuck Y/N, quit teasin’,” he moaned, gripping your hair harder. You didn’t listen, continuing your actions until he tugs your head back to look at him, a gasp slipping from your mouth and allowing him to slide his tip inside. “You wanna play, huh? Fine by me, baby, let’s play.” He pushes your head slowly down his length, forcing you to relax your jaw and throat to open yourself up to him. You feel his cock hit the back of your throat and gag, eliciting a groan from him as your throat tightens around him. “Mmm, you think you’re so big and bad, ain’t so big now with this dick down your throat, huh?” You moan around his cock, your eyes watering as he thrusts himself in your mouth. He fucks your throat violently, his hips bucking at an unrelenting pace as tears stream your face and you choke on him. He pulls out, allowing you to catch your breath but continues to stroke himself as he looks down at you. “Look at you, you’re a mess. Such a fuckin’ slut f’me, chokin’ on my cock.” You whine at his words, you had never been one for name calling but the way it glided off his tongue made you weak in the knees. “Oh, you like that, huh? C’mere, you wanna be my slut so bad imma fuck you like one.” He lifts you back to your feet, kneeling down and taking off your bottoms, leaving you in your panties. He moves them to the side, collecting your wetness with his fingers. “Damn, baby girl, I did all this? You’re a fuckin’ mess for me,” he smirked.

“Tama, I swear to God…”

“Nah, you wanted to play earlier, remember? Now it’s my turn.”

“Tama…”

“Whatchu want, hmm? Imma need a little more convincing than that, sweetheart.” You whined and laid your head against the door, eyes gluing shut as his fingers teased close to your aching core but would never quite touch it. 

“Please…” you mumbled softly.

“Sorry, I didn’t catch that. What were you sayin’?” He smirked, loving how desperate you were for him.

“Fuck, Tama, please. Please, just fuckin’ touch me alre- oh fuckkk.” His tongue making contact with your dripping folds cut you short, your eyes rolling back as his tongue ravaged your pussy. He moaned as he lapped at you, the vibration sending chills throughout your body. He lifts his head and blows cool air on your clit before wrapping his lips around the swollen bud, making you cry out his name and tangle your hands in his hair. He continued to assault your pussy with his tongue, and it wasn’t long before your legs were shaking underneath him.

“S-shit, Tama I-” He stops his movements, slowly rising back to his feet and giving you a sinister look. 

“Oh, you thought I was gonna let you cum so easily?” He turns you around, pressing your front against the cool surface of the door. “Nah, baby, you cum when I let you.” His tip pokes at your entrance before pushing its way in, the thickness of his cock filling you instantly. He places a hand on the side of your head, pushing it into the door as he pounds into you mercilessly. You moan his name loud, unable to control yourself as Tama fully dominates you.

“Fuckk, such a pretty lil’ slut f’me. Takin’ me so well.. you love this dick don’t you, baby girl? Tell Daddy how much you love his cock.” He continues to fuck you hard, your skin slapping echoing the room. “I- I, oh fuck, s-so good. I-”

“That’s it, mama, let the whole fuckin’ arena know who’s fuckin’ you this good.” He grabs your hair and pulls, arching your back and he slams his hips into you. You cry out his name, the new angle hitting your spot in all the right ways. You know you’re close- your pussy tightens around him and he groans. “Lost that attitude, didn’t you? All it took was to fill you full of good dick and you shut right up… fuck, baby, so fuckin’ tight f’me. Squeezing the fuck outta my dick. Keep that shit up and imma fill this pussy up.” 

“P-please..”

“Oh, you dirty fuckin’ slut, you want that, don’t you?” You whimper in response. “Imma give that shit to you baby, gotta cum for me first. C’mon, ma, nut all over this dick.” His hips drive into you deeper than before, daring you to come undone, and you do. You cum hard, your vision turning white and your limbs shaking violently as you release all over him. Your pussy tightens one last time and Tama curses your name, snapping his hips into you and releasing deep inside your pussy.  He stills inside you, allowing his cum to completely fill you as the two of you attempt to catch your breath. He plants kisses on the side of your neck, allowing you to ride out your orgasm. After a moment he pulls out of you, reaching down to your panties and moving them back in place, trapping his cum inside. You two rest for a moment, skin to skin as he holds you in his arms, the both of you stuck in a blissful trance until a loud knocking raps from the other side of the door. 

“Aye, y’all make up yet? Got a segment to get ready for, we’re coming in.” 

Shit.

[domesticated-slut]

Rat Race Simulator

Players: 1+ Supplies: d4, pencil, paper

Congratulations - you found a decent job. It won't destroy your body, pays decently, even comes with mediocre insurance. But it's still a job, so it sucks.

Begin with 0 STRESS, 0 DEBT, and 0 ENNUI. Minimum for each stat is 0.

Each workday, roll d4 for each stat - these are responsibilities which will incur a penalty to that stat if unaddressed. If 4, immediate +1 to stat. Then you may take 8 actions:

ADDRESS TASK: Address one of today's tasks. Requires 2 actions if relevant stat >=3. HAVE FUN: -1 ENNUI, -1 STRESS, +2 DEBT BUDGET: -1 DEBT, +1 STRESS LIVE CHEAPLY: -1 DEBT, +1 ENNUI GET HELP: If another player agrees to spend one action to help you, gain 3 actions for the day. Only once per day. FREE TIME: If no tasks remain, -1 to stat of choice.

For each unaddressed task at the end of the day, relevant stat +1.

Each weekend, choose one:

REFRESH: -2 to stat of choice JOB HUNT: +2 STRESS, +2 ENNUI. Roll d4. If 4, set all stats to the number of times you've successfully taken this action before.

Game ends when you're sick of it.

Okay to archive off-site.

I wanted to be able to dedicate a little more time to the challenge this year, but this month has been difficult for me because of nonsense at work, which I've chosen to use as the theme for this year's (admittedly rushed) submission.

In absolute terms, I'm extremely fortunate to have the kind of job that I do - but it's still incredibly demoralizing to do it day after day for people who don't understand or care about what I'm doing, especially when living paycheck to paycheck. So, I decided to channel those feelings of frustration into a game with no exit condition and what's intended to be a system that leaves a faint glimmer of hope, but will almost certainly lead to a negative feedback loop you're unable to require from - if you're playing alone, that is.

It's possible that I did the math incorrectly, but my intention was that the only way to consistently keep on top of the daily tasks is with multiple players and the GET HELP action. In a group of two or more players, the GET HELP action basically means that, if you're all willing to cooperate, everyone gets 9 actions per day instead of 8, which I think tips the scales just enough to where you will usually be able to stay at low enough stats to avoid the additional cost for ADDRESS TASK, which is when things really start to spiral.

The JOB HUNT weekend action is mostly a trap if you're playing alone, since it does nothing to actually fix the systemic problem you're facing and will usually just give you +4 to your stats for no gain. But in a group, it should be able to serve as a way to try and recover from an unlucky start.

200 Word RPGs 2024

Each November, some people try to write a novel. Others would prefer to do as little writing as possible. For those who wish to challenge their ability to not write, we offer this alternative: producing a complete, playable roleplaying game in two hundred words or fewer.

This is the submission thread for the 2024 event, running from November 1st, 2024 through November 30th, 2024. Submission guidelines can be found in this blog's pinned post, here.

[ruggiesbiologicalfather]

i've been struck by inspiration

here's my ranking of twisted wonderland students by how likely i'd be to let them behind the wheel of a car. this is gonna be a long one bc i'm including explanations of course. (and i know that in-game it's rare to be able to drive, we're ignoring that and pretending it's common to drive around)

1. Leona: canonically, he can drive and drive well. i feel like this was an easy one. but it makes sense!

2. Vil: he just has so many random skills that i feel like driving would be no problem at all. honestly, there's not much that i think vil CAN'T do

3. Trey: everything about him screams Responsible Driver. he would definitely play chauffeur for heartslabyul whenever they need to go somewhere. AND he'd have snacks in the glove compartment. 10/10 ride

4. Jamil: he can absolutely drive well - near perfect i'd argue. what's the alternative? let KALIM drive? get real. it's his duty to get where he needs to go safely

5. Jack: the self-discipline that this boy possesses is unrivaled. he would be locked in behind the wheel. he spent so long becoming the best driver he can be and by god, he's gonna prove it

6. Deuce: LISTEN TO ME, LISTEN! he's really good on that blastcycle which is more dangerous and difficult (said as a former bike/atv guy). a car is nothing to him. plus he's on his Honor Student streak so he's trying his best. my only worry is speed. slow it down, friend

7. Epel: similar to deuce. farm kids learn to drive really early in their lives. HOWEVER... driving safely?? hmmmm... his biggest flaws are going too fast and whipping around curves when no one else is on the road

8. Riddle: he would definitely follow all the road rules. to the letter. every trip would take an extra 30 minutes to an hour. no music, windows up, silence. he won't even let YOU be on your phone lest he become distracted. also ROAD RAGE. interstate driving would get very scary

9. Ortho: fuck it, let the robot give it a shot

10. Azul: i feel like once he figured out the mechanics, he would be fine on the road. however, if he got pulled over he would definitely argue with the cop and get us both arrested. so... i'm gonna pass

11. Jade: yes, we're getting where we need to go. but... nefariously. and there's something in the trunk. i feel like he'd also randomly go "oops" just to freak out his passengers. "what do you mean OOPS?" "don't worry about it :)"

12. Ruggie: there's a wildness to my boy that drove his ranking down. he would definitely drive a jeep with the doors off. music blasting, wind whipping around everywhere. it would be a fairly safe drive but not a particularly enjoyable one. also i would fall out

13. Silver: i don't know, i feel like he would be chill. i put him low bc briar valley doesn't have cars so his driving education would be quite scarce and he'd be a new driver. but he could get the job done. probably

14. Sebek: similar to silver but he needs to relax. malleus is fine, we're just going to walmart

15. Ace: he just gives off the vibe of "16-year-old kid in the car his dad bought for him." never lets anyone merge, hits curbs, can never figure out the speed limit, etc, etc. even worse if deuce is in the car! "ace, watch out for the mailbox!" "don't tell me what to- *BANG*"

16. Cater: gay people can't drive

17. Rook: distracted driver. god forbid there's wildlife around, he would turn 180 in his seat to look at it. this Oh Shit Handle is getting some use. also i KNOW his car would be shit. i don't care that his family is rich, he's driving a 2003 hyundai sonata

18. Floyd: LISTEN! there's a 50/50 shot that everything goes perfectly fine. like as long as he's in a good mood, he can get the job done. you definitely just have to check in before you buckle up. get ready to tuck and roll

19. Malleus: what is a car?

20. Idia: there's so much anxiety there i feel like one thing would go slightly left and he'd almost pass out. he's white-knuckling the wheel, praying that no one else is on the road. it's alright buddy, you can be a passenger princess

21. Kalim: No.

22. Grim + Yuu: okay, for this one it's a joint effort. yuu at the wheel and grim on the pedals. there's so much chaos and screaming. four-way stops don't exist. yellow lights are green and red lights are yellow. the horn has not stopped honking since the engine started. this is an emergency situation ONLY. like someone is bleeding out in the backseat and no one is answering their phones

23. Lilia: absolutely not. i will walk

[auroras-zenith]

what doesn't kill you // part 5

you had your whole life planned out for you; start an agency with your best friend, scale the charts and make japan your bitch. but when a tragic accident leaves you incapacitated and out of a job, you find you just need to start fresh. you cut ties–and for two years, you've all but disappeared. until they need you again and come knocking at your door.

bakugo x retiredpro!reader

prologue ✧ previous ✧ next

"Where are you going?"

You stilled. Your instincts were alert as ever, and yet, you couldn't whip around the way you might've had you not been in this stupid wheelchair.

"I can't tell you that." You said quietly, ears trained on who you knew to be Jirou behind you.

But turning would give her the impression that this was up for debate–and it wasn't, so you kept your head facing strictly forward.

"You won't get far."

The scoff that escaped you was angry at the surface, but mostly just hurt below that. "Who'll stop me? They don't want me anymore, Jirou."

You refused to cave, but your shoulders wilted inward slightly at the admission. "My own partner can't look at me anymore."

Her footsteps were quiet as she moved to your desk, picking up a picture frame containing an old photo of you and Bakugo.

"He's just–"

"Processing? Yeah. Shoto said the same thing. And Izuku. And Kirishima. Along with pretty much everyone else we know." You mumbled scornfully. "But you want to know what Katsuki said?"

"Nothing. He's said nothing."

She sighed, staring at your happy faces. She set the photo down.

"Fine." Moving to the door, you assumed that she was leaving.

You returned to packing, a new weight on your shoulders as you did so. "How'd you find me?" You had to know before she left.

"The same way he'll find you, the minute he comes to his senses." She shrugged, making her way to your kitchen. "I'm going to have Chamomile! You want some?" She called.

She wasn't leaving? "Wha- no?" You mumbled, confused.

The clothes in your hands were set down and forgotten once more as you hurried to make your way to her–cussing as the bulky wheelchair refused to move the way your legs used to.

"How's that? And how did you get in?" The wheels turned clumsily as you entered the room, finding her sitting on your counter next to a boiling kettle.

Purple eyes followed you, unreadable as they seemed to analyze your every move.

"You were the fourth ranked hero of Japan, L/n. You think the hero commission doesn't know where you live? I'm the nineteenth ranked hero. You think I can't get a key made?"

That... was a fair point that you had not thought of before.

Would he really change his mind?

Not that that was the point. The point was of course that you now had a new problem to consider.

"But I'm not fourth anymore. I'm just a crippled civilian, as far as the commission is concerned. As far as anyone is concerned. Once I move, their information will be outdated." You challenged with a frown.

The kettle began to whistle loudly. "I can't tell if you really believe that." She said with a shake of her head as she poured her water. "Just because you're out now doesn't mean they'll stop keeping tags on you. The only people they don't have their little hooks sunken into are the people who fought to have them removed."

Hooks of your own were being shot straight into her back–except they were more like daggers because she was so doing this on purpose.

"Dude, if you know how I can get my info wiped, just tell me."

A white cup was in her hand as she turned back around. You fought the urge to flinch.

That was his cup.

The one only he was allowed to drink out of. The one that he had gotten you a couple years ago as a gift to himself. The one that he left here for all the late nights and early mornings the two of you would need a warm glass of tea to stay awake together.

You shoved the thought away, fighting to stay present. Deal with the more important issue.

"You can't." She looked apologetic.

"Wait- what?"

"You can't." She repeated, turning back around and adding her sweetener and milk to the tea. "It... it takes rank."

Oh. Right. Rank. Rank that bestowed authority. Rank like being the fourth prohero of Japan. Rank you no longer held.

You cleared your throat, taking a deep breath. The world was making it very hard for you to run away.

You were both silent for a moment.

"You have plenty of money."

The words were quiet. Tentative. Testing the waters and offering another option.

"You don't need to work another day in your life. You have no need for hero work anyway."

Your head was shaking no before you were conscious of it. "I can't stay here Jirou." Voice shaky, it was your turn to turn away.

A loud sigh echoed through the room.

The silence that followed it was louder.

"I know."

The ceramic cup made a quiet clink as it was set on the table. Next thing you knew, warm arms enveloped you as she kneeled before you.

This time, the silence was not so abrasive. Rather, soothing.

"I'm going to get you out of here." She whispered gently in your ear, not breaking the embrace. "I'm so sorry this is happening to you. And I really, really wish that you could stay. Wish that we could've gotten to know each other better."

When she finally pulled away, the warmth she'd brought stayed with you. Her hands continued to rest on your arms as she backed away just far enough to look you in the eye.

"But I'm here to help you. You just have to trust me, okay?"

Could you really do that? In your current state? When you had just lost the person you had trusted most in the world and the scars were still so fresh?

You stared at her, searching for any sign of dishonesty or reason for mistrust in her eyes.

"Okay." You decided when you found none. You could.

a/n: sorry i missed the update yesterday 😭 ily all 🥺

taglist: @floverisland @biancatomlinson @rosaryia @highlandhyena @sarashu @rednicotine @emmaiscool22 @your-mum3000 @whoreforfictionalmen18 @sikuthealien @thefirst-ofus @harryzcherry

permanent tags: @phtmmsqrde @pikachuzhc @stabbygabyy @frosted-flakes @didibanini

[cheapshrimpysheep]

Book 7 - Battle Maps/Node Battles

I'm just writing this in case it can help someone get past the Node Battles in Book 7 - The Lord of Malevolence.

I am a F2P player (Free to Play) Which means I have never paid anything in this game, so all my tips can be used by any player as well.

I've always managed to get through these battles on the first day and I'll tell you what I usually do. My method is certainly not the best out there, but it works very well, at least for me.

1. Choose characters according to the number of SSR

I first see how many SSR cards I have of each character and choose the characters at the beginning of the node according to that number.

For example: I always choose Idia because I have 3 SSRs of him, then I choose characters that have 2 SSRs each and if I can still choose more I choose the ones that have 1 SSR.

When I'm undecided about which character to choose, I check out the Duo Magic.

For example: My best card is Azul's Dorm Uniform SSR whose Duo Magic is with Riddle and I happen to have 1 Riddle SSR, so if it makes sense I'll put Riddle on my list too.

2. Just fight the necessary battles

Don't worry about unlocking all parts of the map, you can do it in the 2nd round.

When you finish one of these node battles map, all your cards regenerate as new, but the map remains with the parts you unlocked.

So what I do in the first round is to only fight the battles necessary to finish the map, choosing the least difficult ones if I can and avoiding the most difficult ones.

Once I finish the map and load it back, I can choose the characters again (I usually stick with the same ones) and when the map opens, all the parts I unlocked remain unlocked and I just need to unlock the ones I have left with all my cards regenerated. (I talk about this in point 6)

3. SR are your pawns

Do you know how in chess the pawns can be sacrificed? This is what I do with the SRs.

Following the logic of only fighting the necessary battles, when I choose a relatively easy battle like 2 or 3 stars, I use SRs to save my SSRs for the more difficult battles.

But, I still use SRs at max card level and with the spells at least at level 5.

SRs do the job and there is no big problem in losing them in battle, but it is good to have them strong enough to last longer or even fight more than 1 or 2 battles.

4. Get all the help you can

Whenever there is a chance for me to gain advantages in battles, such as healing cards or buffs and debuffs, I take them all!

5. Save your best SSRs for the final battle.

The last battle is usually the hardest so it's a good idea to try and save your best 5 SSRs for that time.

Even if you lose in the first round of the battle, you will still be able to do enough damage to make it easier in the next round with other cards.

But you can use other SSRs in other battles that are relatively difficult.

I usually use SSRs to win the fight quickly or at least cause enough damage so that if I only have SRs left, they can win on the next attempt.

6. Second round

So, I said I would play these maps twice: the first time to progress the story and the second time to unlock the entire map. And like I said, the map will be the same as you left it and all your cards will be completely regenerated.

The hardest first.

Here I reverse the rules of the first round, take advantage of the fact that you have all your cards at max and start with the most difficult battles, as there is no longer the problem of losing cards. Even if you start losing your SSRs, the SRs can handle the less difficult battles, and so, in principle, you can complete the map.

I think these are all the things I think about when I play. I hope this can be useful to someone. ❤️ And if you want to share more tips, feel free to comment them.

[shamebats]

Sometimes I feel like my job is so easy and like I barely do any actual work but in reality I need 3 monitors to do it properly because it requires me to have so many programs, websites & documents open at the same and there are parts of the process where I can fuck up severely if I misclick once & don't catch the mistake, plus it requires really good problem solving and abstract thinking skills that most people haven't trained as intensively as I have in my career. I use a ton of brain power, that's not something you can do non-stop for 40 hours a week as a human being.

I just want to say, if you've ever worked a low-level office job and thought 'wow this is piss-easy', that's not a sign that the work you were doing is objectively easier than other types of work, it's a sign that you were good at it.

by which I don't mean 'stop de-valuing office work' bcos that's not a real problem, no-one is doing that, I just feel like a lot of young people aren't aware that e.g. being able to type fast and accurately, open up a computer program you've never used before and figure it out unaided, are marketable skills, not things that 'everyone' knows how to do.

I've worked in 'easy' office jobs for 6 years now and believe me, some people are bad at them & do not find them easy.

[beuxwhoyouare]

Ready to Go

I always thought I would die young. I just don’t forsee a long life ahead for me. It’s not like sad or anything I just think I’ve done all I wanted to. There’s never been like a dream job or goal I’ve ever foresaw in my future. It’s not depression or anything, if anything I think more people should be honest with themselves about being useless and just tapping out of a long life of nothingness.

See. You’ve read this long and didn’t even notice I haven’t mentioned my name. That’s because like my life, my name is equally inconsequential.

I was pondering about ways to easily tap out of life while I sat at the bus stop waiting. Eventually I got on the bus at my usual stop to take me to my usual destination when an older white man slowly waved his hand in front of my wandering gaze.

“What’s out there?” he feebly asked in a weak voice.

I’ve never been asked something on my route before. I kinda just zone out into my own mind like this and-

“Hey kid. You keep zoning out are you okay?” he interrupted my internal thought.

It’s like he knew I was talking to myself but how?

“I’m just in my own head. Sorry did you want the window seat?” I finally replied audibly.

“No. Just making sure you’re okay. Was worried you were one of those druggies or something. Whole life ahead of you and you youngins just throw it all away.”

What a presumptive thought. He really believes that young people can’t have a complex and existential inner dialogue. I think older people don’t give us enough credit. I’m complex, I think.

*hehe*

What’s he laughing at. Wait maybe he is listening to my inner dialogue? Let’s see. Lemme think of something and see how he responds. I don’t want to die, I just want to peacefully tap out of the game of existence.

Damn nothing? He isn’t going to say anything? I’m losing my mind.

“Where do you want to go in life kid?”

HE HEARD ME I KNEW IT!

“I mean let’s say you manifested it enough. Maybe I’m here to help you move on. The worst thing you can do is live a life unfulfilled. It seems like that’s how you’re living.”

“You can’t be serious…What can you do?”

“It’s not really me, more like a pact to the deities that rule existence. It’s the law of the land. Everything in this world is all about balance. Even our lives, if one aspect is out of balance it could throw the whole world out of whack.”

“So what’s out of balance? Just because I’m tired of being aimless in life? It’s not like I’m the only aimless one right?”

“Maybe you’re not the only one, but you’re the only aimless one put in my life. I have so much I wanted to do but spent too much time wasted. I wanted kids, I wanted love, I wanted it all but got sick and spent years withering away in a hospital bed.”

….why is he telling me all this? What can I do about the law of the land? If I could help him I would but he’s talking about myths and hocus pocus.

The bus made an abrupt stop next to a big park near a historical reserve in town. The old man grabbed my arm and dragged me with him off the bus, across the street to the park.

“Dude your boney arm is hurting me. I’ll follow you just let me go”

“We’re here anyway. I can feel one of the deity’s presence around us. All you have to do is say your true hearts desire out loud for it to become true. You can’t move on and I can get a chance to fix my life’s shortcomings.”

My true hearts desire? Doesn’t he get it my problem is I don’t have a desire. There’s nothing fueling me.

“That! Say that out loud.”

“I KNEW YOU COULD HEAR ME! But how?”

“Your inner dialogue was calling to me like a siren. I’m telling you I was meant to hear it. To run into you! This moment was meant to happen.”

Honestly resisting the occult is too much work anyway. I don’t know why I’m even poking and prodding into his story. What is it going to do for me in the end? He’s offering me a way out.

“I don’t have desire. I don’t have a goal. I’m not sad, I’ve lived an okay life but I’m done.”

“I want a real chance to live life. I payed my dues. Please all I ask for is a real chance.”

If felt like all the sounds of nature stopped. The sun suddenly disappeared and it felt like a spotlight appeared above us. All I could see was the old man when he disappeared in front of me. It all disappeared in front of me. Then silence. Well everything was silent from then on. My request to tap out was granted.

“Keven. I like that name, I definitely look like a Keven now. This is a good place to start I think?”

I feel bad that a young person could fall out of love with existing. There’s so much young people have to live for and he just wanted to die? I’ll live the best live for the both of us.

I’m quite the looker now too so that should probably help on the having kids and starting a family front. Although he’s a little short for my liking. You know what no I’m going to be grateful for this new life I’ve been given. There’s still some memories in my head that belong to him. I think he might be gay….well I never got to explore those things in my time but it doesn’t help the kids dream.

Whatever I think starting today I’m going to be Bi. I’m gonna search through these memories and continue working out. Seems like it has a positive impact on people’s outlook and morale. Maybe that’s where the kid went wrong. He didn’t seek ways to be happy. I’m choosing happiness and choosing to be fulfilled.

Let’s start by jerking this thick beer can growing under my shorts though…and maybe seeing if this hot couple in the gym might want a newly confident Latino twunk third.

[saveyourblood]

Pretty Boy - Ch 6 (Buddie x Reader)

Summary: You can feel Buck staring. When your eyes meet his, you realize he’s staring at your hand, which is still on Eddie’s knee. You slowly retreat, which makes Buck turn his attention to your face. You smile softly. He just looks out the window. The one where you’re an advanced paramedic, Buck and Eddie are firefighters, and you think you might be in love with both of them.

Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4 | Ch 5

Chapter Summary: The tension between you and Buck brings you and Eddie closer.

Word Count: 3.3k Warnings: none

Things between you and Buck are… weird. Awkward. Uncomfortable. The last time you had a real conversation with him, it was a fight, but it ended with you saying how much you care about him. It’s left you feeling like there’s an open wound on your chest, one that exposes your heart. You feel vulnerable, and you hate it. Your hatred of the feeling triumphs over your desire to be around him, at least for now.

In a weird silver lining, your lack of time with Buck has created room for one of your other coworkers — Eddie. Talking to Eddie when Buck was around always felt strange, like there was something in the air that wasn’t supposed to be. Which is funny, because when it’s the two of them, they’re as thick as thieves. Something about you being in the mix feels like adding oil to water.

You like to think you’ve gotten to know Eddie relatively well in the last few weeks. So when he’s staring off into space while the rest of the team is eating breakfast, you don’t feel awkward asking what he’s thinking about.

“Nothing,” he says, turning his coffee mug absentmindedly. “Just… this new school with Christopher.”

“Don’t think it’s a good fit?” You ask.

“No, it’s perfect,” Eddie replies, turning his attention to you.

You smile softly. “Then what’s the problem?”

“They need to do a family interview.”

“Again, what’s the problem?” you chuckle. “I mean, aren’t the divorce and custody agreement papers enough?”

“They would be… if I had them.”

You frown. “What?”

Eddie sighs as he rubs his forehead. He leans closer so you’re the only one who can hear him. “We’re still married.”

Apparently, you don’t know a goddamn thing about Eddie.

“Oh,” is all you manage to get out.

Eddie chuckles briefly. “Yeah.”

“Wow. Just… from how you talk about her, you made it sound like things were… over over. Like, officially over.”

“ Shannon and I aren’t officially… anything these days.”

“You’re officially husband and wife.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, but he smiles as he does it. “Touché.”

“What’re you gonna do?” you ask softly after a moment.

He sets his elbows on his knees and clasps his hands together. “I don’t know.”

You just watch him and can’t shake the helplessness that washes over you. Eddie’s in a tough spot; no matter what you say, you can’t fix it. All you can do is be there.

“Tell me what I can do,” you say.

Eddie looks up at you with a lopsided grin. There aren’t many things you wouldn’t do to keep it on his face.

“I’ve been told I’m a lot of fun when I drink,” you continue. “Well, when I have three drinks I’m fun: that’s when I get dancy. After five drinks, I get sad. You can pick the number.”

Eddie laughs.

9-1-1 dispatch is down, making doing your job almost impossible. LA is a maze; without GPS navigation, you rely on your phone and eyes to do most of the work. It’s a miracle that dispatch existed before computers.

You’re in the passenger’s seat of the rig, and you tell Hen to make a right turn. When you pull up to what’s supposed to be the scene, though, there’s nothing.

“Dispatch, this is RA 118,” you say into the radio. “There’s nothing here.”

“No pregnant woman?” A dispatcher asks.

“There’s no building. It’s an empty lot.”

“Stand by, 118.”

You hang the radio with a huff.

“What’s going on with you?” Hen asks.

You frown and look over at her. “What?”

“You’ve been… off lately,” she explains. “Like, you’ve got this short fuse now.”

“Why shouldn’t I? We can’t even do our fucking jobs because some moron can’t fix a computer!”

Hen raises her eyebrows.

“Okay, point taken.”

“Buck says you two haven’t talked in a while.”

“Well, he’s a firefighter and I’m a paramedic. We can work the same shift and not see each other,” you shrug. “ I don’t know why he’s talking to you about it.”

“I’m not sure, but… it sounded like I’m not the only one worried about you.”

You play with your hands in your lap.

Hen sighs. “Look, I don’t know what happened between you two, but I hope it gets fixed, because you two are miserable without each other.”

“It’s not like that-”

Hen raises a hand to silence you. “I don’t know what you guys are… best friends, work spouses, or dating. Frankly, I don’t care. All I know is that, for better or for worse, you need each other. “

“118, you're gonna need to proceed to San Vicente, east of the Miracle Mile District,” dispatch crackles over the radio. “The nearest cross street is Sixth.”

You pick it up and push the button. “RA 118, copy that.”

“Where the hell have you guys been?”

When you finally arrive at the correct building, you’re faced with a pregnant woman lying on the lobby floor. A small crowd has formed around them, which you push your way through.

“We are fighting a system outage, sir,” Bobby explains, “we apologize for the delay.”

You crouch next to the patient on one side while Hen starts an IV on the other side.

“Hi,” you introduce yourself and don some gloves. “What’s your name?”

“Sonia. I’m 39 weeks pregnant, and 38 years old, which makes me a geriatric pregnancy,” she laughs a little. “God, I hate that word.”

“Word doesn’t matter: you still get a baby out of it,” you smile. “I’m gonna check how progressed you are, okay?”

She nods.

“10 centimeters, 100% effaced,” you observe. “You’re doing great, okay? On this next contraction, you’re gonna push, alright, Sonia?”

She doesn’t respond, so you look up.

Her expression changed. A moment ago, she was nervous but smiling. Now, her face is flattened, and she’s staring ahead at nothing.

“There's something wrong with the baby,” she says quietly.

Your body goes numb.

There are a few things you never want to hear a patient say, and ‘something is wrong’ might be at the top of the list. It’s called ‘impending doom’ — there’s no obvious threat, but it feels like something is about to go terribly wrong. You’ve seen patients die within minutes of saying something doesn’t feel right.

“Your baby is fine, Sonia,” you assure. “You'll-you'll be able to see for yourself in just a minute.”

“No! No, this was a mistake, all of it,” Sonia cries. “Roger was right to panic. Look, we can't do this. I can't... I can't do this. I shouldn't have this child.”

“Hey! Hey, Sonia, look at me,” you say, patting her knee to get her attention.

It takes her a moment, but her eyes eventually meet yours.

“All you have to do is push,” you tell her. “That’s it, okay? Just push.”

She still looks terrified, yet she nods.

On the next contraction, Sonia pushes. You coach her through the contractions, telling her when to push and when to rest. It only takes a few rounds until the baby is fully born.

“He’s here!” you exclaim as you wrap the baby in a towel.

There’s some happy laughter and a round of applause from the crowd as the baby cries.

“Beautiful boy, it’s time you meet your mom,” you say as you move to place the baby on Sonia’s chest.

She’s staring at the ceiling, her expression slack.

“I’ve got the baby,” Eddie interrupts, taking the baby from you so you can work.

“Sonia?” you say, rubbing your knuckles on her sternum. She winces, but barely.

“I can’t get a systolic above 70,” Hen says as she deflates the blood pressure cuff.

“She’s cyanotic,” you say, noting the blue tinge to her lips and fingernails. “She’s in shock.”

“Hemorrhagic?” Hen questions.

“She’s barely bleeding,” you shake your head.

You press your fingers to her neck. You don’t feel a pulse.

“Lost a pulse, starting compressions!” you shout.

Everything starts to move a hell of a lot quicker. Within seconds, the defibrillator is at your side, and as you compress Sonia’s chest, Hen is placing the pads. Eddie has a finger on her neck to ensure your compressions are effective.

When you get Sonia on the gurney, Eddie tags you out as the compressor to give you a break. Your entire body shakes with adrenaline, yet you help pack her into the rig and climb inside.

“She was fine,” Eddie mutters as he compresses. “Birth was going like clockwork, even for a geriatric pregnancy.”

“Sudden despair and fear and anxiety, rapid loss of BP, subsequent cardiovascular collapse…” you think aloud. It dawns on you. “Oh my god.”

“What?”

You’re reaching for your phone, dialing the phone number of the hospital you’re heading to. “It’s an Amniotic Fluid Embolism.”

Eddie looks over to you. His brow is damp with sweat. “She could be in DIC.”

“She needs Mass Transfusion Protocol,” you agree. You raise the phone to your ear. “LA general, this is RA 118 en route, I need to speak to your ER charge nurse.”

When you’re rolling through the ER doors, you’re kneeling over Sonia on the gurney as you do compressions. Doctors and nurses are shouting directions at each other, but all you focus on is your arms moving up and down.

You hop off so they can move her off of the gurney and onto the hospital bed. In the process, you notice that the defibrillator is showing Sonia’s in Ventricular Tachycardia — a shockable rhythm.

“V-Tach,” you say normally at first, then shout. “V-Tach! Everyone clear!”

The ER staff has no idea who you are, but when someone shouts those words, anyone with a medical background knows to listen. Everyone backs away with their hands raised. After hitting the ‘charge’ button, you do a quick survey to ensure no one is touching Sonia. Then, you hit the lightning bolt to deliver a shock.

Sonia’s body jerks at the electricity. The EKG tracing goes from tombstone shapes to a flatline. Then, there’s a beep and a QRS complex. Then another, and another.

“Got a pulse!” a random voice shouts.

You make your way out of the trauma bay and into the hallway, where Eddie’s waiting for you.

“That was… amazing,” Eddie says.

You stand next to him wordlessly. You nod but then let out a sob as you collapse against the wall.

Eddie helps lower you to the floor. He keeps a hand on your shoulder, squeezing tightly.

“God, this is embarrassing,” you remark between a few sobs.

“It isn’t,” Eddie immediately responds. “We’ve all been there.”

“It’s, uh, it’s how my mom died,” you say with a sad laugh. “They didn’t catch it in time. She bled to death internally. I just… I don’t know what I would’ve done if she didn’t pull through.”

“She did,” Eddie says, moving his hand from your shoulder to your knee. “She pulled through because of you.”

You nod again, wiping away some of your tears. “Thank you.”

Eddie nods in return. You notice that his gaze goes from your eyes to your lips and back up to your eyes.

It happens in the smallest of movements, but before you know it, your forehead is pressed against Eddie’s. You can feel his breath on your mouth. You quietly gasp at the sensation, and it makes him sigh.

You press your lips together. “You’re married.”

“She wants a divorce,” Eddie whispers.

You smile sadly. “You’re still married.”

Eddie sighs again, but this time, he moves away from you.

“I’m not saying it can never happen,” you say quietly. “All I’m saying is that I’m not that kind of girl. And you definitely aren’t that kind of guy.”

Eddie nods, his mouth shifting into a few different expressions.

You rise to your feet and offer Eddie a hand. “Let’s get back to work, Edmundo.”

Eddie laughs genuinely at the use of his full name. He takes your hand and uses it to help get himself up, but he continues holding it when he’s standing.

“Back to work,” he agrees and squeezes your hand before letting go.

You’re heading out a scene call, fire in progress with multiple victims suspected. You’re driving the rig while Eddie sets up the back. The 118 is the nearest firehouse, so your unit will be the first on the scene. It comes with a lot of responsibility, but you know you and Eddie are ready for it.

That is, until there’s a massive ‘BOOM’ from behind you.

You immediately pull over and look in your rearview. The engine following behind you is now on fire and lying on its side in the middle of the intersection. You can see a few firefighters lying on the pavement.

“Eddie, grab our bags!” you shout as you unclick your seatbelt.

You fly out of the rig and meet Eddie in the back. Instead of handing you your bag, he sets a hand on your shoulder and pushes you both to the side of the ambulance.

“What the hell?” You ask.

“There’s a bomber,” he says in a low tone.

“What?” you ask again, peering to the side of him.

Sure enough, there’s a kid — no older than twenty — with several pipe bombs strapped to his chest. He’s holding what appears to be the detonator in his hand. Someone is laying at his feet, his leg pinned under the passenger side of the engine.

Buck was sitting in the passenger’s seat.

You try rushing forward again, and Eddie grabs you by the waist this time.

“It’s Buck!” you scream as you struggle against him.

“I know,” Eddie says, his arms wrapped around you as he presses your back to his chest.

“We have to do something!” you cry, still thrashing against Eddie.

“We have to wait for the scene to clear,” Eddie explains. It’s more than a little annoying how calm he sounds. “If you go in now, both of you could die.”

“So what, we just let him die?” You ask, but you’ve stopped fighting.

Eddie doesn’t say anything, but his grip around you loosens. Eventually, you feel his arms drop back to his sides. That’s when you make a run for it.

You make it far enough to catch the bomber’s attention. You raise your hands in the air.

“I’m not who you want,” you explain, “I just want to help him. He has nothing to do with this. He has friends and family… he’s my family. Please, just let me help him.”

The bomber looks from you to Buck, then back at you. “He’s collateral damage.”

“Is that how you see yourself?” Bobby interrupts. He approaches with his hands raised.

The bomber’s attention shifts to Bobby, the person he’s been after this whole time. You use it as a window of opportunity to approach Buck slowly. When you finally reach him, you crouch down by his head.

“Hey, Pretty Boy,” you say softly. You set a hand on his head. “How’re you feeling?”

His left leg is the one that’s pinned, and he’s lying on his stomach. He tries to look up at you. “You shouldn’t be here. It’s not safe.”

“I could say the same thing to you,” you joke. You move your hand to his neck. “Are you in pain?”

“No, just kind of numb,” he says. “That’s not good, right?”

Your heart sinks. “You’re in shock: it’s normal.”

Bobby manages to distract the bomber long enough to subdue him. As the bomber gets rushed off, the rest of your team rushes in.

“Eddie, start two lines, wide open,” you instruct. “Hen, get him in the C-collar.”

You dig in the medi bag for a tourniquet. As you apply it, you try to drown out the sound of Buck crying out in pain.

“How are we doing?” Bobby asks as you stand.

“We’re out of time,” you mumble. “We need to get him out and to the nearest trauma center.”

Any extra body moves to the truck, waiting for the count to lift it. You place yourself in front of Buck, taking both of his hands.

“We’re gonna get you out,” you promise.

He nods slightly.

“Okay, my count,” you say as you move your hands to underneath his arms. “1… 2… 3!”

As everyone begins to push, you start pulling on Buck. He isn’t budging.

“It’s too heavy,” Bobby says.

“We got anything on the truck we can use for leverage?” Eddie suggests.

“No, we need more people,” Chim says, picking up his radio. “Dispatch, this is 118…”

There’s some clattering from across the way. Bystanders are pushing through the barricades to help. This time, you’re able to get him out.

You get him on the backboard, then onto the gurney. The whole time, you’re telling him that he did a good job and that he’ll be okay. As you’re running with him to the ambulance, he mumbles something. Once you’re settled into the rig, you ask him to repeat himself.

“You’re my family, too,” he mutters.

You wait in the waiting room the whole time Buck is in surgery. When he makes it out of recovery and to the ICU room, you don’t leave his side. You’re sure visiting hours are over, but you stay out of the nurse’s way. She doesn’t say anything; she just gives you a sympathetic look every once in a while.

You hear him stir a little bit. You look up from your phone to see Buck blinking awake.

“Welcome back,” you smile.

“You’re here,” he says, voice rough.

“Where else would I be?”

Buck looks around the room, slowly orienting himself. His eyes eventually land on his leg, which is in a cast and suspended in a sling. His eyes widen, and he lets out a few breaths as he tries to sit up.

“Okay, okay,” you set a hand on his shoulder, gently pushing him back. “It’s gonna be okay.”

“Is it?” Buck asks. “Did you talk to the doctor? Did he say anything about how the surgery went?”

“Just that you made it through,” you say softly. “And you're now the proud owner of one titanium rod and four beautifully cobalt-chromed screws.”

“Before they wheeled me in, he, uh… he said he didn't know how it was gonna go.”

You take his hand gently. “You’ll walk again, Buck.”

“Yeah, h-he said… he said he was pretty confident about that. He, uh, he just... he didn't know if I would ever… work again.”

You run a hand over your face. “Okay, I'm not gonna lie to you and tell you everything will work out how you want it to. But what I will say is that we should take this moment to be glad that you’re alive.”

“I’m really sorry about our fight,” Buck apologizes.

You laugh. “Buck, that is… so far from being important right now.”

“No, it isn’t,” he insists. “It wasn’t fair, how I reacted. I’m proud of you. I was just… scared.”

“Scared of what?”

“Losing you,” he admits quietly.

“Yeah, well, I was pretty scared of that today, so we’re definitely even,” you joke. Your smile softens and you squeeze his hand. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You move your hand to his forehead. You trail it down to his cheek, letting it rest for a moment. You turn your body to face him better. His eyes are closed, which you’re grateful for because if he were looking at you, you wouldn’t have the guts to do what you want to do.

You kiss him. It’s hesitant at first, and when he doesn’t react right away, you start to pull back. Before you can, Buck has his hand on the back of your neck, pulling you in closer. Your hand moves from his cheek down his neck and eventually rests on his chest. You only pull away when your lungs are burning from lack of air.

Buck traces his thumb over your lips. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

You blush, laugh, and bury your face in the crook of his neck.

[sergeantneko]

So I do have an answer to this, but not because of doctors. I live in the UK. And, for better or worse, I can't work because of multiple reasons (mental disorders, on and off physical pain, struggles with hygiene, etc.). As a result I have to claim what's called benefits here. In america I believe they're called government grants, unsure.

One such is PIP (personal independant payment) which is paid to individuals with various mental disorders or inability to work.

However, on my phone interview with them they tried to ask about a previous claim, I said that they legally can't use previous claims due to the possibility that circumstances could change. The person on th ephone then proceeded to say "Do not tell me how to do my job."

I am very good at speaking, despite having autism. Based on that fact alone, they tried to deny my case despite all my other problems.

Told mom and she wrote a very angry letter for the appeal I made, stating what the interviewer said to me and that they can't deny the case just based on me being able to speak, no matter how good, and threatened to take them to court.

They phoned me a few days later to tell me I got the claim and that whoever interviewed me originally didn't do their job properly.

So there's my story of being denied by supposed medical professionals just because I could do something that 99% of the population do.

hate going to the doctors with persistent debilitating symptoms and then then they call you with the results which is just like good news! your blood is red