#call of duty desired reality

[shiftinggamingbooknerd]

I don't know if it am slow to getting it all, but something has just popped into my mind, especially with the last couple of days of feeling like I am hitting a wall with shifting.

Here is is...

The reason why we feel connected to certain TV shows, games, books, comfort characters etc and want to be in that reality is because when we watch/read/play these things it is remind us of our homes, our other lives that we live.

It isn't obsession, it isn't delusion, there is a part in your brain that connects to these things for a reason.

Or am I crazy?!?! Haha

[mariameowshifts]

[shiftinggamingbooknerd]

I do this!!!

It is the most relaxing and best way to do it, in my opinion anyway!

How to Shift: Simplified

This is what I did the time when I was closer to shifting (I'm currently in a break, since like a week after that attempt), and it's also how many people shift.

It's actually pretty simple. I'm going to explain it in steps to make it even easier to understand, although it's not supposed to be a step by step method.

LAY DOWN AND RELAX: Breath deeply, meditate, count your heartbeats... do whatever it works for you. take a few minutes, till your mind is as calm as possible.

IMAGINE: Start imagining the exact place where you'll wake up. It's not necessary to visualise, I personally don't do it. I just imagine everything in first person as I were there. If you feel like it, try adding more and more details, like the breathing of your roomies, the texture of your clothes, etc. However, this is optional.

THINK AS YOUR DR SELF: What are you doing tomorrow? What's that thing you can't forget to do? Do you have to finish your homework? Think in first person, as you were you other self. Daily basic things. Think what s normal person would think before going to sleep.

ENJOY BEING THERE IN IMAGINATION: Once you've imagined it, you're there. So, go on, enjoy it.

That's basically all. It's not a method. You don't have to do it in order. You don't have to remember the steps. Do it naturally, enjoy the process. Do what you feel like to do.

I'm going to tell you the KEY to this.

FORGET YOU'RE TRYING TO SHIFT. Focus on the 4d (imagination) to the point you don't remember you're not there, but attempting to shift there.

And remember, it's not a step by step method (it's like the fourth time i say it i know), but more of a "do what you feel" method. So do it in the order you like the most. If you rather first start thinking as your DR self, do it. If you rather mix imaginacion and thoughts, you're free to do it. The important thing, is that you feel there, and forget you are (not) there, but you are attempting to shift to that place.

Hope this was clear enough:)

Happy shifting

[lotus-pear]

rewatched madoka magica again today bc i fucking hate myself and to absolutely no one’s surprise i went through all five stages of grief in a single evening

[lexililyblack]

*Lexi fixing up Tesla up after a shoot out*

Tesla: “Are you really a medic or just the Barracks Bunny who needed a reason to stay?”

Lexi: *stops wrapping her injury & stares at her*

Soap in the background: “oh fckin shite”

Lexi: “Are you really an assassin or just looking for daddy’s attention so he actually loves you?”

Soap: *chuckles*

HAHA in a DR memory when we first hated each other :) hope yall enjoy

[katsmultiverse]

teen cod dr me mood boards

btw, no, none of these photos are mine and i found them all on pinterest. also, girl in middle of each is my face claim! :)

lemme know in the comments if you want more of these for my other drs! <3

🪼clothing🪼

🪁sports/athletics🪁

🌻father & daughter🌻

[theirishwolfhound]

Bit of a rambling thing, so like fair warning I suppose. But these are topics that I would like to use in my stories one day, just so that I can figure out my own thoughts. There is more information at the bottom about why I am personally writing this, but consider this more of a self insert type of fic (but a lot of physical details are left ambiguous) for comfort. It has a lot of different thing from my own life.

Task Force 141 (Comfort Fic)- Are You Still There?

Content Warnings: Mental Health Related Issues (Disassociation/Derealization), Passive Suicidal Ideation, Hurt/Comfort

Written In First Person, Nickname: Cardinal, You can read this as a x Reader fic but it isn't intended that way

Joining the army was something I never wanted to do, but I had no choice. Between the lack of familial financial support to the increase of the general price of living, I had no choice. I don't even know why they would accept someone like me into the force. Perhaps they were like me. Desperate. In need of anything they could get their teeth and nails in. Willing for anything, or anyone that would approach with an offer. But now that I'm in it I can't really get out. A trap I willingly walked into like an animal that doesn't know any better. One who was hungry and tired of fighting everything so I chose to fight with a collective. It nearly broke me. But the pay is nice. So at least there's that. My bones and body ache every day. But the people I work with make it worth it. Right now however is a brief rest, no missions, no worries, no problems. At least that's what I think it should be, but my mind is too busy. There are too many thoughts in my head.

What if I didn't have to join up? I wouldn't be here, that's for sure. What if those pills back in secondary school had done the job? Then I wouldn't be here, but I'm not going to try it again. What if I took a bullet next mission? There's nothing I can do it it does, if it happens then it happens. What if I don't wake up in the morning? Preferable, but I have things I need to do tomorrow. Do my pets back home miss me? I hope so. Does my family miss me? Half of them do. All of these are valid thoughts, I think they are at least, and I can't help but to have them even as I sit with my friends in the common room. Two of them play cards together, one reads a book, and the other simply scrolls through his phone. But we're watching a movie at least, so there's noise. Looking at them, I realize that I'm lucky to have them. They're my friends after all. But I don't know what they're thinking, or if they feel the same way. If they feel trapped. ...if they feel real. Are they real? Counter question: am I real? Is this... all in my head? Arguably what is in my head and what is not? Should I reevaluate my decisions? ... My life? ...

Even now as I type this I can't tell if the men around me are actually there. If the phone in my hand is real. If these thoughts are my own. It's scary. To not trust your own mind that is. Life is scary in general. For example: never knowing if you're going to even wake up in the morning. But it's something I'm willing to accept. Something quick and painless. Sleep is the best way for sure. Would I wake up? Maybe. I don't have any underlying health problems as far as I know. Where would I wake up? Hopefully in my bed. What time line would I be in? One that I'm familiar with, I pray for that. Would I adapt if I woke up in a new body? God, I hope so. ... Would they miss me? ... I hope so.

I don't hear his voice when he talks to me, I can't even see who it is, I can only sit and remain transfixed on my notes app. If I ever have to go to therapy because it gets too bad I need something to show them, right? I can't tell if the pressure on my shoulder is real or not, if the way the couch dips next to me is actually there or if I'm still lost in the idea that maybe the world I'm in is all just a dream. That my friends aren't real and that I'm going to wake up in the next moment. It has to be real. It has to be. It feels real. But I don't.

"Are ye okay, Cardinal?"

Am I okay?

"Can you talk t' me?"

Can I?

"What's going on, mate?"

"...I don't know."

"'ad us worried there, mate."

"Yeah ye' was jus'... starin' off again., thought ye might start cryin' yer eyes did that glossy thing."

"Mhm, spaced out a good ten minutes ago."

"...you okay, mate?"

"Ah... sorry... and yeah. I guess I just have a lot on my mind."

Coming back to reality was a bit hard but with the grounding hand on my shoulder it made it easier, the same with the presence next to me. For a moment I could focus. But deep down I know it won't last, the next time I start to think, I'll spiral again. It's a scary thought. I can feel my eyes burning at the mere thought, but there's nothing I can do about it.

"What do you need, Cardinal?"

What do I need?

There's not much I want in life, not anymore. I had to give up my dreams and aspirations so that I could just live. I need basics, this I know... but I'm not hungry. There's a roof over my head. I don't need a drink yet, and I'm not tired.

What did I need?

"...I dunno." "Maybe some bubble tea?"

"Yeah? C'mon then. I'll drive."

"Shotgun!"

"Cardinal get's the middle seat."

"Mm, 'spose that works."

The hand on my shoulder shifts down to my arm, helping me to my feet before two of them wrap an arm around each shoulder so that we could begin to walk out of the common room. It could be real, it could be fake, but for right now... I know that I want it to be real... for my sake.

Part of me likes to think about the possibilities of not being myself, not really in the depression kind of way (i think i could be wrong) but like in the day dreaming kind of way.

Again it may be the mental illness but like constantly formulating these ideas in my head about myself or my OCs really keep me level headed.

I don't know what it is. But it's the only way I am able to not focus on burning out. Like one moment I could be the fucking Dragonborn fighting off Alduin (I'm actually walking through a supermarket trying to get groceries) or the next moment I'm on an undercover mission with the 141 giving me updates on my surroundings via the earpiece in my ear so that I can survive (its a headphone, I'm listening to music while working a job that is breaking my body down with each shift.)

It's like I don't exist but the people I want to be do.

I would give anything to just be in a different world for like a few hours. Whether it be Skyrim or where ever CoD takes place (don't actually send me to Britain) rather than where I am. I want to be without pain, or worry about work— I want to worry about dragons burning down my fucking house.

I should be happy in general, not only when I play DnD or get to just sit with my fiancé in relative silence (parallel play if you will).

I can't tell if this is disassociation or not. I don't think it's derealization but what would I know, y'know?

[shiftinggamingbooknerd]

Everyone has their down days with shifting, and it sucks so bad when the thoughts crack into your head. "I can't do this." "Am I crazy for believing this?" "I might as well give up. It's never working!!"

If you give up now, what if tonight is the night? The night that you arrive in your DR. They night that you open your eyes and see the different surroundings.

You don't give up on what you want in this reality, don't do it for the others.

You are already in your DR, with your comfort characters, with your s/o. You are doing those things that you have daydreamed about.

Get out of your own head, your own negative mindset and fucking shift!

Why are you still reading this?

GO!!

[shiftinggamingbooknerd]

Me: "Notion? Huh?? Must of automatically downloaded, never heard of it."

Them: "I'll have a look for you."

Me: Throws phone into incoming traffic. "Whoops..."

😅😆

"What’s that notion app on your phone?"

[zorbiit]

My Significant Others vs Domestication

Note: This post is just for laughs. I adore all my significant others from my drs. I have shifted to these people and these funny hahas are not a reflection of who they are as people as a whole. Just having a little fun! I also do not actively shift to a few of these drs as of currently, but I love them all the same.

Spencer Charnas: Easily domesticated. 10/10 this man is just happy to be around me and happy for me to be loving him. You’d love him too if you saw the look on this silly little horror guy’s face in the mornings.

Noah Sebastian: Domestication Levels; difficult! This man is a chaotic string bean. It’s not impossible but I do be strugglin’. His choices in food are questionable at best; pizza with marshmallows and chocolate sauce a deep hatred for Subway, and he’ll train his children with marshmallows he keeps in a fanny pack.

James “Bucky” Barnes: Not impossible, but not easy. He’s a grumpy old man who questions everything. Short of giving this 100 year old man a heart attack each day, he loves me though definitely is questioning if he wants to spend the rest of his oddly long life with me.

Cayde-6: Impossible to domesticate. This EXO Vanguard, though he is goofy and spry, the house life is just not for him and to be fair, not for me either! We have a job to do and we love what we do and take pride and the house life isn’t for us.

Simon “Ghost” Riley: Now, I have yet to domesticate this brick wall of a man, but I’m not going to say it is impossible. A difficult task, yes, 1000%. There are a lot of walls you gotta crack through just to see a sliver of life, but it’s there!

Keegan Russ: Much like Simon, he’s gonna be a difficult one, though I often refer to him as the “Diet Ghost” because he definitely has a softer side than Simon and therefore I believe it would be easier to domesticate this blue eyed beauty of a man.

—————————

Note #2: the people down here are either ones I once shifted for and no longer do or are my friends’ significant others who I’ve spent enough time around in drs to just know. Again, all for silly hahas

Loki Laufeyson: Good luck! His ability to be domesticated is mild, he’ll probably humor you for about a decade before he gets bored. Not bored with you, he’ll love you and burn the world down for you if he feels the need, but this leather covered coat rack is burdened with a glorious purpose and being a house husband just isn’t one of them.

Tom Hiddleston: Probably the easiest human to domesticate! This man loves with passion and will do anything to make you happy. House husband status at 1000%. That work-life balance he has that down to a T and you are the main priority every single time.

John Price: Not impossible but extremely difficult. This man yearns for a domestic life, however he has a job to do and it often takes priority. He has a slight issue with feeling the need to protect and protecting is part of his job.

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish: This chaotic bean could be domesticated however he just wants to blow shit up. He’s a goofy man but he might need a little direction. Your household will be utter chaos and that’s okk!

Ricky Armellino: Can’t convince me this man isn’t some Loki variant. He loves kids, but he is chaos incarnate. He loves touring, it’s his job, but he loves being a chaotic little shit and that’s alright! Join him in the chaos, it’ll be easier that way.

Patrick Galante: Domesticate this man immediately. Perfect house wife with a great taste in craft beverages. He is a sweet bean without a single care in the world and an amazing cuddler. 10/10 house wife.

[vonloup]

Lowkey wanna yap about my creepypasta/call of duty DR (dream reality) but I don't wanna get called crazy. Just might post the aesthetic of it tbh

[wintermactavish]

Where's my shifters at?

[lilliathshifts]

1. iZombie

2. Fame

3. MCU

What are yalls top 3 DRs?

Mines:

1. Hogwarts.

2. Outer Banks.

3. The Vampire Diaries.

[ember0666]

I'm trying to think about more details for my call of duty dr which is my main Dr.

Things in trying to figure out is which part of England woild I live in? In my Dr I'm from Ireland thoigh my families moved to England when I was around idk between 6-14

I imagine my parents have g a farm in the countryside, and I'm loving in an apartment in a bigger town/city thoigh I know very little about England and would love some help lol

[captain-huggy-bear]

In The Firing Line

Pairing: Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Lil' bit of hurt/comfort, lil' bit of angst, lil' bit of panic

Summary: You break up a fight at your school getting hurt in the process. There's only one person you want to call in that situation.

Notes: I have in fact been punched in the line of duty as a teacher and while it's not common it is truly a scary experience and I very much wish I had a Quinn to pick up the pieces when those things happen.

Another kinda angsty one? I keep putting the reader through some stuff in this series, I promise teaching is not always this eventful...please don't be scared of it <3

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :)

Writing Masterlist

There are some dangers to your job, hazards you might say...while generally speaking teaching is a safe profession except for your stress levels, the reality is you're dealing with human beings who aren't yet capable of fully regulating their emotions and thinking through their actions. So things happen...like fights...and fights are...unfortunately something you can't just ignore as a teacher. They are in fact something you have to actively deal with.

There's a deep seated desire not to get involved, a sense of self preservation that says don't stand in between two teenage boys who are going at each other. That unfortunately is overridden by two things: 1) The duty of care you have to keep your students safe and stop them hurting themselves or others and 2) Your genuine desire to not see any of your students hurt.

At this point in your career you work off of instinct. The moment Carl throws a punch at Gabriel, while you're in the middle of teaching mind you, you're ushering every other student out of your classroom with directions to find another teacher. That leaves you with 2 teenage boys flipping tables and intent on pummelling each other. Really, you'll later find out the fight is over something silly, Gabriel had talked to the girl that Carl liked, Carl had been told that Gabriel was flirting with her and talking shit about Carl. He wasn't. Later they'll both apologise to you profusely and their sets of parents will come in and apologise to you too, but in that moment? Your only concern is stopping the fight from progressing any further and stopping blood from being spilled.

Perhaps it's misguided, but in your experience getting in the middle works. Often students stop, pulling their punches out of fear of hitting an adult, like a sort of reset button. The fact that you're there usually does the trick. So that's exactly what you do, you wedge your significantly smaller self between two teenage boys who stand well over 6ft tall, one of whom is on the boxing team and the other on basketball team. You think this is a good idea, spoiler alert, it is most certainly not.

You misjudge this, it's almost like slow motion the way that Carl's fist comes towards you, his eyes seeming to widen as he processes that you're now in the way and in the line of fire. You have just enough time and thought to turn your back to him so that he doesn't hit you anywhere soft and vulnerable.

But, fuck does it hurt to have a junior boxing champ throw a solid punch straight at your shoulder blade. You jolt straight into Gabriel who breaks your potential fall and both boys fall dead silent, fight ended as quickly as it had began. Whatever haze of red had come over them completely diffused. All you can hear is a series of swear words followed by the sounds of some of your colleagues coming in to take both boys away.

You're dimly aware of one of the English teachers wrapping an arm around you and carting you down the corridor towards the staff room, of being sat in a comfortable chair and handed a warm drink that you have little desire to sip at.

"I think she's in shock..."

"She can't teach like this, can you talk to Lisa about covering her lessons for the day?"

"Should we phone someone?"

The conversation happening near you is practically underwater, dull sounding. You register it but you don't really hear it, words that go in one ear and out the other like water off a duck's back.

Your gaze fixes on your principle who crouches in front of you with a soft smile, "Y/N, do you want to phone someone? Get them to take you home, we're going to give you the rest of the day off, okay?"

You nod more out of instinct than anything else, you feel like you're underwater or not in your own body. Adrenaline still pulsing through your system, shock having hit you so hard that you don't feel real. You feel floaty, not really present.

When you're left alone, an empty staff room, you reach for your phone. You unlock it on autopilot, find the contact without really thinking and listen to it ring, once, twice before being picked up on the third ring. Reliable and steadfast as always, he never fails to answer the phone to you.

"Hey, baby, you okay?" Quinn's voice is soft, sweet but curious with an undercurrent of worry because you almost never phone him while you're at school. It's that that seems to break you, seems to dissolve the numb shock and bring forth the waterworks.

"No..." You can't help it, you're sobbing in an instant, breathing rapidly as the shock gives way to panic, like Quinn's voice broke the dam that had been holding your emotions in check. "I-I-I..."

"Breathe, baby! Hey, hey, breathe...you're okay, what happened?" You try to follow his instructions, but your breathing is still sharp, short, stunted. Every breath cutting itself off by the next. Each sob interrupting your words and your attempts to get a full breath in.

"Baby, listen to me, okay?" You try to tune into Quinn's voice, the steady stableness of it, the way he tries to keep it as even as possible, "Breathe with me, okay? Breathe in..." You listen to him as he instructs you on how to breathe, breathing in when says and out when he says until your own breathing is back to a point where you can at least talk, still the tears don't disappear.

It's like your body has finally realised it was in danger, like it's finally realised what happened. You're just thankful that the room is empty, that everyone else is teaching right now because you can't help but feel embarrassed as you cry over the phone to your boyfriend over something that feels silly in your mind. It was just a punch and it wasn't even intended for you, you probably won't even bruise....

"What happened, baby?"

"I...I tried t-to break up a fight..." Your shoulder aches now that some of the panic has worn off, right in the shoulder blade. A reminder of the fact you've been punched by a junior boxing champ.

"Are you okay? Did you get hurt?" You can tell he's worried, the stability of his voice disappearing in favour of concern but you stay silent...you don't want to make him worry... "Sweetheart...?"

"I...I got punched in the shoulder...I'm okay...I...I think." You don't want him to worry more than he already has, you know what Quinn is like...if he could wrap you in bubble wrap and keep you with him all the time he would. You know he supports you having your own life, own career, but he also hates you being unsafe in any way. You don't want him to worry especially when he's not around, the idea that he might worry when he's away on a roadie kills you inside.

"Has anyone had a look at you?"

"No...they want me to go home though..." Not like you have a proper nurse in school anyway, besides, you're certain you're just going to ache. You doubt there's any lasting damage.

"Okay, okay, give me 20 minutes? I'll get Petey to drop me off and I'll drive you home."

"You don't have to, Quinn..." You don't like feeling like a burden and that's how you feel right now. Quinn shouldn't be spending his day off picking you up from work and looking after you. He should be relaxing, enjoying the little free time he gets between games and practices, resting his own injuries like his hand that's still braced.

"Baby, respectfully, shut up. I'm going to get you, you aren't driving home, and we're going to spend the afternoon cuddling, okay?" You can't help but smile, wiping some of the tears that have tracked over your cheeks away, the salty taste on your tongue from where a few drops had hit your mouth.

"Okay...I love you."

"I love you too. Get your stuff ready and stop feeling like a burden. You're not. I love you, so I want to help you." You can't help but huff out a laugh at him calling you out for the thoughts you don't voice, because of course Quinn would know what you were thinking, of course he'd know you were feeling like a burden already.

"You know me too well." You roll your eyes, easing yourself up from the seat you'd been placed in earlier and making your way to the door knowing you need to venture to your room to grab your things. A little bit anxious about it, but knowing the students in question were likely already in isolation or the principle's office or been sent home after everything. Even though you know without a doubt Carl and Gabriel never intended for you to get hurt.

"That's my job, sweetheart."

"We've had this discussion before, your job is to hit a piece of vulcanised rubber around on the ice." Quinn's pretty certain you sassing him is a good sign that you're getting over the shock of being punched on the job, a good enough sign that he can't stop the laugh that comes out because at least you're okay.

"That's my paying job, not my proper job. My proper job is to look after you, baby."

"Mmm, do you want an ID badge for that?" Your classroom is empty when you get to it, students having been taken somewhere else for the period, most likely to the gym. It makes it easier for you to start grabbing your things without a million and one eyes on you.

"Yes please, and a lanyard."

"I'll get that printed for you right away," You're putting your work laptop away, grabbing your water bottle, phone balanced between your ear and your shoulder. Quinn finding away to calm you without even being in the room was something you were thankful for, while that well of anxiety still sat deep in your chest, you felt at least functional in that moment. More functional than when it first happened at least.

There's a beat of silence, where Quinn is unsure if he actually wants to come off the phone. Hearing you reassures him you're okay, not perfect, but okay...but he knows that to get Petey to pick him up he needs to actually say goodbye to you. A dilemma if he ever saw one.

"I'll see you soon?"

"See you soon...thank you, Quinny," You mean it, you always mean it. For a man who is so busy, so stressed all the time, he truly never failed to be there for you. You never thought twice about phoning him because you knew he'd pick up, knew he'd help no matter the situation, even if he wasn't around he'd find someone who could help. It was his reliability that always had you reaching for his number, even when past boyfriends had been last person you might have called. Quinn was always steady, always there, always on hand.

"Anytime, baby."

You're waiting in the car park when Petey's car drives up next to you, the window rolled down for the blonde man to give you a sympathetic smile.

"Hey, Petey..." You give him your best attempt at a smile but you know it's a weak one, his features scrunching in sympathy. You can see Quinn in the passenger seat, hoodie on, beanie over his hair.

"Hey, Y/N, you okay?"

"I will be..." You answer as Quinn gets out of Petey's car, your smile starting to turn more genuine when Petey throws a bar of chocolate at you out the window. Not even just any chocolate, but the good stuff, European chocolate.

"Feel better soon, okay?"

"Thank you, Petey." You stand back as Quinn thanks Elias for the ride, tapping on the roof of the car as a sign it's okay for him to leave and you grasp the bar of chocolate tightly, feeling emotional over the thoughtful gesture.

That emotion spills over with one look from Quinn, tears starting to silently stream down your face as he pulls you into his warm arms. You feel so utterly safe the moment he does, your face pressing into his hoodie and just breathing in the scent of his cologne, the sea salt smell of his old spice deodorant. He practically traps you in his arms, trying to give you a sense of security and safety by wrapping you up tight, one hand coming to comb through the ends of your hair, the other stroking down your back in slow motions.

Quinn presses a kiss to your hair as he rocks you side to side, feeling the way your body shakes in his arms, the residual adrenaline left over from the whole affair coursing through your body. He knows better than most how your body responds after taking a hit, he's felt it time and time again on the ice, but the adrenaline usually gets worn off in play for him. For you? This is unfamiliar territory, unexpected and with no way to get all that adrenaline rush out of your system.

"I've got you, sweet girl...let it out, you're okay..." If there's one thing Quinn will always do, has always done, it's make sure you understand you can rely on him. That you don't need to hold back any of the ugly parts, the difficult parts, the raw parts, out of fear of being a burden. He doesn't care that his day is being spent stood in a school parking lot holding you while you cry, in fact he prefers it to the alternative, you pretending nothing happened, not telling him, crying on your own somewhere...

"Wanna go home, baby?" You nod into his chest, arms so tight around his waist that he almost worries he might not be able to breathe if you just squeeze a tad tighter. "Keys in your pocket?" You nod again and he slips his hand into your pocket, then the other one, fishing out your car keys.

The walk to your car is hindered by your refusal to come out from your spot hiding in his chest, you walk backwards while he walks forward. A strange sort of dance that shows just how much you trust him not to let you fall over.

It's obvious when he gets you to your car that you don't want to let go of him, that you feel safe surrounded by him in every sense of the word. Surrounded by his arms, surrounded by his hoodie, by his scent. But, Quinn is good at compromise, at finding solutions to problems, seeing the gaps in the defence and making a solid play.

"You want to wear my hoodie for the ride?" Your nod is all he gets and he's quick to strip himself of the oversized hoodie, pulling it over the top of your head and helping you work your arms into it. It's large on him and large on you, sleeves long enough to cover your hands, fabric billowing in a way that makes him think he could probably slip in there with you if he tried hard enough. He helps you pull the hood up and over your head, watching as you burying your face into the neck, breathing in the familiar smell of his cologne.

It's like hugging him when you can't and it helps you feel that comfort still when he can't hold you because he has to drive. You still feel surrounded by him, his body heat having infused the fabric, his scent in the cotton, the sheer size of the hoodie comforting you. It brings you security that you need right now.

"Better, baby?"

"Mmhm." You hum from within the hood, eyes wide and soft and it makes Quinn's heart ache a little to see you like this, so withdrawn, so needy because of something that shouldn't have happened in the first place. There's part of Quinn that wants you to stop working altogether, wants to just pay for you to put your feet up, relax and enjoy your hobbies but he knows you love your job despite the issues. He knows he could no more ask that of you than you could ask him to stop playing hockey because of the dangers associated with his career.

"Okay, let's get you home, yeah? Then I'm going to check you for a bruise, okay?"

Quinn's gentle with you as he opens the car door and helps you in, doing your seatbelt up for you and making sure you're as comfortable as possible for the ride. Your music plays the moment he starts the engine and you smile just a little when you watch him have to adjust the driver's seat, complaining that your legs are far too short.

That smile eases some of his worry but you can see his concern in the way his fingers alternate between tapping the steering wheel and gripping it tight between his palms, tight enough that his knuckles go white each time. Every now and then he reassures himself that you're okay by reaching a hand out for your thigh, palm squeezing the plush flesh once, twice, before returning back to the steering wheel.

You don't say much on the way into the apartment, just let him reach his hand back for yours, gripping it tightly with your smaller hand and letting him guide you through the apartment building hallways and through your front door. You let him guide you all the way to the bathroom until he has you in front of him under the bright florescent lights. Quinn's large palms run up and down the tops of your arms in gentle strokes as you peer at him from beneath his hood, still buried deep, breathing in his familiar smell.

"Let's take a look at you, baby, okay?" You nod and help him as he lifts the hoodie up and over your head, turning you around until your back is facing him. It's intimate but rather clinical, not the sort of undressing you might usually experience with Quinn and you appreciate that. You appreciate that he can see you undressed for practical reasons, genuine reasons without making it sexual or strange, you appreciate that Quinn's concern right now is making sure you're okay not the fact he can see your bra.

You can feel his hands glide over the skin of your back and shoulders, assessing, the careful way he looks you over as if a single touch might cause you more unnecessary pain.

"Has it bruised?" Your voice is rough from the crying and the period of silence you'd entered into and Quinn takes it as a good sign that you're starting to talk to him again.

"Yeah, baby, practically black and blue...the kid a boxing champ or something?" He means it as a joke, but the irony is that he's not wrong.

"Yeah, he was actually..."

"Shit, baby...stay here, 'm going to get some ice and paracetamol for that bruise, okay?" You let him go but the moment he's gone you're looking in the mirror, twisting your head round as far as possible to see what the damage it.

Quinn's not wrong, you're legitimately black and blue, your shoulder has a nice fist sized bruise that is already turning various shades of blue and purple, blood pooling under the skin. It explains why each roll of your shoulder aches like nothing else.

"Here, baby," Quinn returns to the bathroom with a tea towel filled with ice, pressing it against the bruise and holding it there. It's cold, uncomfortably so, causing you to hiss.

"s cold..." you mumble frowning at him in the mirror and Quinn gives you a sympathetic look and a quick, commiserating kiss to the top of your shoulder.

"I know, but it'll bring the swelling down, just a few minutes for me, baby?"

"Okay...a few minutes" You agree watching him tend to you in the mirror, downing the paracetamol he brought back for you from the first aid drawer he keeps in the kitchen. Quinn's attentive, even as he holds the ice filled towel to your skin he checks every now and then that he's not giving you freezer burn, that it's helping reduce the swelling and not actually hurting you more.

"Atta, girl," Quinn's free hand cups the back of your neck, thumb rubbing back and forth soothingly, every now and then digging in to a sore spot to distract you from the uncomfortable cold sensation against your shoulder blade.

"Can we cuddle now?" You're patient for the first few minutes but that starts to wain as the cold becomes almost painful against your skin.

"Yeah, sweet girl, we can cuddle now...think you've earned it," Quinn throws the melting ice into the bathroom sink, hand trailing down to grip yours to tug you back to the bedroom.

He helps you change into comfy clothes before tugging you down into the bedcovers with him. You breathe a sigh of relief as you curl into his side, face pressed into the warm crook of his neck, leg slung over his waist. Quinn rests a hand on your thigh, pulling your leg tighter against him while his other hand finds its way into your hair, scratching gently across your scalp.

"You tired, baby?" You can't help but close your eyes at the way Quinn's fingers curl in your hair and run through each strand, burrowing as deep into his neck as you can as he pulls the covers up and over the top of the two of you to create a cosy little nest of warmth.

"Yeah...really tired..."

"Eventful day, huh?" You nod into his neck in agreement, feeling like your body has been through the mental and emotional wringer. There's the physical discomfort of being punched obviously, but the bigger issue is how emotionally exhausted you feel. Your nervous system having been put through fight or flight, only to have to come crashing down from that adrenaline high.

"You can sleep, baby, it's okay, I'll be here when you wake up..."

"You promise?"

"I promise, 'm not going anywhere." It's his reassurance, the firm but gentle hold on you that helps you fall asleep because you trust him, you believe him. You know that if Quinn says he'll be there when you wake up, then he'll be there.

[lexililyblack]

OKAY SO QUITE LITERALLY

i’m pretty sure i shifted to my call of duty dr for a few seconds! i woke up really early this morning & was up for about another 15-20 min scrolling through tiktok for edits, looking at pinterest and stuff then went back to sleep then i woke up again and was discombobulated lol but went back to sleep or i thought i did and (keep in mind i wake up in the barracks in my room in this dr) suddenly i here this banging on my door and it happened like BAM BAM BAM BAM like someone was trying to wake me up ya know? well it scared the shit out of me LMAO and i then shot up in my bed and went out to the front door cuz i thought it was ya know here and there was no one and there was no sign anyone was ever at my door and the cats were sleeping and they are basically guard dogs so if someone was knocking at the door they would’ve been up and at the door or at least crying. and i felt crazy cuz i heard it crystal clear like someone was pounding on a metal door or like just not a door made of wood(that sounds stupid) lol

so after talking to one of my best friends who also has a call of duty dr, she was like dude you had to have shifted. and the more i think about it the more i’m convinced so yeah! :)