#cw steroid use

[ejunkiet]

😭

[ashasdiary]

Ovulation

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x fem!reader

Synopsis: Toji is away for work while you are ovulating — and you are suffering deeply from needingtobefuckeditis. When he returns, boy does he deliver. 

CW: horniness like you’ve never felt before, mentions of masturbation, established relationship, smut — unprotected sex, spanking, creampie, overstimulation?, anal fingering, squirting, hair pulling, dom!Toji, breeding kink (MDNI) WC: 4k A/N: oh to be Toji’s toy during ovulation… 😵‍💫

You could not think straight. Usually, the ovulation stage of your cycle would bring the to be expected egg white and some out of pocket dirty thoughts here and there, but this time? Your reproductive organs were on steroids. 

Even before your period had ended, your mind had been clouded with such downright dirty thoughts of being absolutely rawed that you worried to think what your body would be like once it actually did finish. 

And oh, were you ill-prepared. 

It hit you with full force the first morning without your period. All you could think about was sex. Of being fucked so good that you’d see god. Of your cunt being used and abused in the way that she was clearly craving so fucking badly. Of being so stuffed full of cum that it would leak out all over your legs. 

Going to work in these conditions was brutal. The work day was ordinarily not so long, but now? You were suffering. To add insult to injury, Toji was out of town for work, so you had no one to satisfy you except the sad little piece of plastic in your bedside drawer. 

You had long retired your rabbit since being with Toji, for obvious reasons, the main being that nothing and no one could ever come close to him. And you’d gotten so used to how good he would give it to you that you knew that nothing you could do with the rabbit would ever compare. 

Every time he was away, you’d have no communication until he came back, which you understood due to his line of work, but right now, you hated that fact because you wish you could at least hear his voice. Something, anything from him would help. 

So here you were, on day 2 of your ovulation phase, trying to get Megumi to sleep sooner so you could get to bed yourself. 

When he eventually did fall asleep, you darted out of his room and into yours, pulling off your clothes hastily and grabbing your current sleeping companion from the nightstand. 

While it wasn’t Toji, you managed to satiate your aching cunt for the time being. 

The next day was ever the challenge, but thankfully you had some tasks at work that required additional brain power so this distracted you briefly from the dire need to be fucked.

The constant horniness was getting tiring without Toji truly satisfying it, but you did your best to nonetheless, counting down the days until he’d come home, which — you check your watch — should be in 3 days, 2 hours, and 24 minutes. 

You decided to get creative with your methods, one such being a Pilates class. Your friend had told you, verbatim, “If you want to feel like you’ve been bent over, disrespectfully, and have your legs quaking by the end, go to a Pilates class.”

So you had decided to do just that. Megumi had a babysitter for that evening while you were at the class, so you got to fully immerse yourself into it. You did not expect it to be so difficult, having to bend your body into all these different positions and engaging your core in a way that you’d never felt before. The burn was undeniable and strangely, you did find that it helped somewhat. 

Your muscles truly ached the next day, a Friday. This helped keep the dirty thoughts and the horny feelings at bay as you winced from the muscle ache at work, but by the time you got home, your mind had clouded once again.

You had Megumi to tend to for the evening until his bedtime, so you had to keep it all at bay while you watched over the sweet boy. He was a great kid and you were grateful that he was as such. 

Finally, finally, you tuck him into bed a few hours later and make sure he’s asleep before you shut his door and head into yours like a woman on a mission. 

Day 4 of ovulation and it was probably the worst of them all. The desperation you were feeling was like you were a bitch in heat.

So, imagine the sheer anger that strikes through you when you find that your rabbit’s batteries had died and you had no spare ones to hand. Of fucking course. 

Toji is very many things. Toji is a punctual man. (Or, at least, he tells himself that. He tries to be.)

He had told you he’d be home after his mission on Sunday afternoon, and usually his missions take the whole predicted time, but this mission he’d gotten lucky with and he’d managed to finish up quicker than anticipated by Friday evening. He was happy about that; he’d be getting paid the same figure and also get to go home sooner. 

While he’s making the journey home, he wonders what he’d do with his “paid time off” as you’d call it — probably primarily family time with you and Megumi. You. He’d missed you, your voice, and your sweet body. He wouldn’t say it outright, but he was excited to see you. And so was his cock. 

Toji had expected to arrive home to a quiet, dark house since it was nighttime and you loved your beauty sleep. What he didn’t expect was to find you splayed out open on the bed, fingers knuckle deep as you pump them furiously in and out of your weeping pussy, quiet mewls falling from you as you gasp and rub quick circles on your swollen clit. 

Toji can do very many things. Arriving early to places is not one of them, you’ll note. 

Your eyes were closed and your face twisted into one of pleasure as you made do with your hands and fingers, but you opened them to watch yourself when you suddenly notice Toji stood in the doorway, raging hard on poking through his pants, and you instantly stop. 

“Toji?” You sit up quickly, unable to believe the sight before you. Were you so far gone that you’d imagined him? 

“Oh, don’t stop, baby, I was enjoying the show,” he husks, a sexy smirk on his lips as he kicks the door shut and stalks towards you. 

You kneel over to the end of the bed and let out a soft whine when he pulls off his shirt and comes to stand in front of you, capturing your lips in a heated kiss. He was real. When you break apart for air, you sigh, “I can’t believe you’re home already, I was going insane without you.”

“That so?” He chuckles lowly, big hands groping the bare skin of your hips and sliding back to your ass as he connects your lips again. He can sense some urgency in the way you kiss. “Unwrapped my gift for me, huh?”

“I’m ovulating, Toji. I’ve been feral. I needed you so bad this past week…I still do. I need it. I feel like I’m going to die if you don’t give it to me,” you look at him and he can see the desperation in your eyes. 

He laughs quietly, letting you open the ribbon of his pants, “Death by lack of dick. Interesting way to go.”

“I’m serious, Toji,” you responded, pulling him onto the bed with his pants at his knees. He lets them fall down the rest of the way and he kisses you again, hungrier this time. You moan into his mouth, lying back and pulling him on top of you. He hovers over you, your legs instantly wrapping around his hips. 

You feel the hot press of his heavy cock against your puffy folds, and the excitement of finally getting what you had been longing for, for this entire week gives you a rush. He grunts as he rocks his hips into yours, covering his thick cock with the copious amounts of wetness that had already accumulated at your core. The rubbing of his cock on your clit makes you mewl and you get restless, reaching down to guide him into you. 

“So needy for me, aren’t you? My perfect little wife,” he hums against your mouth and you lift your hips, pumping him with your hand once, twice, before you’re guiding him into your waiting entrance. She’d been waiting for this, waiting for him, and the pure relief that you feel of his cock filling you and stretching your walls is something heavenly. 

You let out a filthy moan when he bottoms out inside you, and he covers your mouth with his large hand, “Meg’s sleeping, sweetheart, I know you’ve been waiting for this but keep it down.”

You swallow, biting your lip and nodding before he gives you a dirty grind of his hips, his pubic bone grazing your clit. You nearly go cross eyed at the pure bliss this gives you. Truth be told, he was surprised at how easily you’d taken all of him on the first try, but he wasn’t complaining. You were snug as always, wrapped around him so perfectly like you were moulded just for him. 

He draws his hips back and you let out a gasp at the heavy feeling of his cock dragging against your plush walls. When he thrusts back into you, you feel like you might explode. You need him to fuck you senseless. 

“Faster, baby, please,” you plead, grasping onto his beefy arms, nails digging in a little. 

“I love when you beg for me,” he murmurs, lips curled into a smirk as he sucks on your neck. He rolls his hips steadily a few more times, ever the tease, but then he obliges with your request, quickening his pace. He brings his lips to yours in an open mouthed, breathy, messy kiss while he fucks you into the mattress, then leans back because he wants to watch the way you fall apart under him. 

You’re on cloud nine; there’s nothing better than the satisfaction of having a craving fulfilled, nothing better than the pleasure of Toji putting you through the mattress. You try to stifle your moans but you can’t, your face twisted in pleasure as he rams his thick, delicious cock into your needy cunt over and over again. 

It’s when he grabs your legs from your knees, pushing them up one at a time to fold you in half, that you feel the tingles of your orgasm fast approaching. He hooks his arms under your thighs and pins you to the bed that way, fucking into you rougher despite you being tighter around him now. “Ah— mm, T-Toji-!” Your hands trail up around his shoulders, nails leaving angry red tracks on his muscled back while he pistons his hips repeatedly into yours, the sound of your hips colliding echoing in the room alongside your lewd moans. 

You can feel your orgasm approaching fast and you grip onto him, gazing up at him, dazed. “Cum f’me, sweetness— hah— oh, fuck,” he grunts, dipping his head to tease your taut nipple with the flat of his tongue. 

He loved having you in this position, he loved testing fate every time you fucked like so. It’s the combination of your carnal desire being satisfied, his mouth on your tits, the deep plunge of his cock inside you, and his direct order that sends you over the edge into the deepest depths of euphoria with a moan so dirty it sounds like a cry. The wave that overcomes your body makes you stiffen and your walls pulse so tightly that it almost becomes painful while he continues to fuck you through it. 

“That’s it, baby, f-fuck, give it to me,” Toji groans, hips stuttering as he feels his balls tighten, signalling his imminent release. He pants as he keeps thrusting, and you pull his face up to yours so that you can kiss him. Tongues tangled, his pleasure overcomes him and he buries himself deep inside you as he cums, releasing his thick ropes into your waiting cunt. 

He breathes heavily and tries to catch his breath for a moment, lips moving lazily against yours. You bask in the delicious feeling of him fucking his cum inside you. 

You’re holding onto him tightly as he releases your legs and you wrap them around his waist again, letting out a quiet mewl when you feel him slip from your confines. “Baby…wait…” 

“Remind me to go on missions while you’re ovulating,” he says, a smirk curling at his lips while he pecks kisses on your jaw, “we should do that again sometime.”

You feel up his back, a part of him you loved especially, already feeling empty and wanting more of him. “Sometime? How about… again, right now?” You suggest, and he stops for a second, looking down at you incredulously. 

“Wh—now?” He repeats and you nod, biting your bottom lip as you bring your hand to cup his face. Thumb caressing his cheek, he turns his head to kiss the palm of your hand, his eyes hooded as he feels the rush of arousal through his body once again. His cock was still hard and he grabs your face in both his hands, crashing his lips to yours in a rush of desire. You moan into his mouth as he pushes his tongue past the seam of your lips and against yours. 

You push him up and this causes him to break the kiss as he sits back on his haunches and waits to see what you want to do. Precum oozes from his slit when he watches you get on all fours and rock your hips sensually for him. 

The mess between your thighs drips down them, but you don’t care. You just needed him, again. You wanted more. You wanted all of him. You arch your back, bringing your arms down so you can rest on your elbows. “I want you this way,” you tell him and he wets his lips as he kneels behind you. 

He’d never seen you be this damn needy. It was so sexy to him.  

Large hands grabbing your hips, he rests his heavy cock on the crack of your ass as he reaches around you to toy with your clit. You keen at the calculated movement of his thick fingers, absentmindedly pushing your hips back against his. “God, Toji…” you sigh contently, eager to have him inside you again. 

He can be a tease sometimes and make you beg for it, but right now, he was more than happy to entertain this. Taking his hand away from your clit, he holds onto your hip while he guides his leaking cock into your cunt. You keen at the feeling, the difference in position being felt entirely. You rest your cheek against the bed with a breathy sigh.

He feeds you inch by delicious inch of his thick cock, letting out a tsk when your walls clench around him involuntarily. He swats your ass in response and you let out a small cry, the sting of it going straight to your pussy. He finally bottoms out inside you again, and he pulses his hips, his balls teasing your throbbing clit. 

“O-oh…mmnh…” you let out incoherent sounds, gripping the bedsheets when he draws his hips back until only his tip was inside you, slamming his hips into yours with a forceful thrust. 

He begins a brutal pace, the sound of your hips slapping together even louder than before. Your eyes are screwed shut as you enjoy the feeling of being thoroughly fucked, your mouth agape while he pulls you back onto his cock. 

It’s too much, too fast, your brain can hardly keep up with the fast pace of his. He’s drawing out lewd and dirty moans of his name from you, to which he reaches up and wraps his hand around your hair, pulling on it a little. “I told you to be quiet, sweet thing.”

You bury your face into the sheets and muffle your moans while he continues to ravage your greedy cunt. He releases your hair and lets out a low growl at the sight of your pussy creaming around his dick. Toji loves your ass. It’s why he doesn’t even think about it before he’s gathering your slick and teasing your asshole with his finger. 

He’s fucking you into oblivion now, and the sensations are getting slightly overwhelming but you want to power through because you’d been needing this like you needed air. You wanted this. 

With each mean thrust of his cock against your plush walls, you edge closer and closer to another, no doubt, life changing orgasm. 

“Takin’ me so damn good, baby,” he grits out, dipping his finger into your ass as he continues his mean pace, the thump, thump, thump of his hips hitting yours like the base of a delightful melody. 

And boy, oh, boy, was he playing your body like his favourite instrument. 

It’s when he’s fully fingering your ass that it happens all at once, your orgasm hits you in an instant and a sudden rush washes over you; a pressure in your abdomen being released as you squirt all over him and the bed. You cry out, tears in your eyes from the ecstasy of it all, your legs almost giving out. 

He lets out a gasp, both from the surprise of you squirting all of a sudden, and from the sheer strength of your orgasm which had your walls gripping him so tightly that he struggled to keep his own at bay. Again. Fuck, you were addictive. “Jesus—! Fuck!” He hisses through clenched teeth. 

The mess of your squirt, your juices and your cream covered his lower abdomen and he was living for being this fucking filthy with you. He fucks into you a few more times before he starts to cum, slamming his hips into yours again and again to ride through it. His breath shudders as he slows gradually to a stop. He stays there, plugging his cum in you, and you inhale shaky breaths, eyes still closed. 

Toji can do very many things, especially with you. Fucking like rabbits was one of his favourite. 

He bows over your back, panting for breath, and you both fall onto your sides as you come down from the high. He caresses your hip, where he’d held a bruising grip on you before. You take a moment to gather yourself, and you move off of him, your puffy pussy feeling (and looking, Toji noted) truly abused by that point. You grab the glass of water you’d put on the bedside table earlier and take a long sip, rehydrating yourself. 

Toji rolls onto his back, closing his eyes, hand splayed on his abs. You let yourself shamelessly ogle his body while you drink your water; eyes raking down from his pretty face to his large torso, bulging pecs, defined abs, prominent v-line that led straight to his beautiful, big, curved, and still hard but slowly softening cock. 

You salivated at the sight of it. The tiredness in your body starts to dissipate the more you look at him. 

More, more, more. You wanted more. 

You set your glass down and crawl over to him, straddling his hips. He opens his eyes at this and gazes up at you in question. As far as he was concerned, you should have been satiated following that last round. 

He can see the glint of mischief in your eyes as you reach between you and wrap your hand around his cock, pumping it slowly. He doesn’t protest — if anyone can keep up with you it’s him — and he watches with piqued interest at how you work his cock so easily, doing all the right things that he likes. 

“We already got this messy and you wanna go again?” He inquires, and you nod lazily, thumbing over his slit and smirking to yourself when you feel it jump. Not only are you stroking his cock but you’re also stroking his ego, and he is thoroughly enjoying being the recipient of both of those things. 

It doesn’t take much before he’s rock hard again, and he’s groping your ass as you lift your hips and aligning him at your entrance, sinking down onto him in one smooth and steady motion. 

He grits his teeth, jaw clenching as he gazes up at you, your eyes almost rolling to the back of your head as you feel yourself being split apart on his thick cock for the third time that evening. 

You didn’t need much time to adjust to him so you rock your hips back and forth, feeling the base of his cock catch at your clit, making you cream around him. Toji’s groans are deep and rumble from within his chest as you take the reins, lifting your hips and sinking back down, over and over, desperately. You look so wanton as you ride him, your pretty tits bouncing in his face so he can’t help but give them the attention they deserve. 

You clench around him when you feel his mouth on you, so messy with it; open mouthed kisses, sucking, licking, damn near drooling all over your chest. 

“Christ, you’re gonna end up pregnant at this rate,” he says with a warning tone, but you only look at him with hooded eyes.

“What if that’s what I want, Toji?” You murmur, bouncing your hips faster. “What if I want you to put a baby in me?” 

“Yeah? Wanna give Gumi a sibling, huh?” He rasps, squeezing your ass tightly. 

It was at that point that you go onto autopilot, your body moving on its own accord, fucking down onto him with such carnal need that you felt like an animal. 

“Yes…yes, fuck, Toji, yes,” you ramble, feeling that you’re nearing your release. You reach back and play with his balls, squeezing them, pulling ever so gently, wanting him to cum with you. 

“I’m gonna give it all to you, pretty. Gonna give you every last fuckin’ drop,” his chest rises and falls quicker as you both get closer and closer to the edge. 

You lean forward and bounce your hips faster, filthy moans being drawn from your lips which Toji tries to quieten by crushing his lips on yours in a bruising kiss.

You both reach your peaks within seconds of one another, and you try to keep your pace to ride through it but you simply give into the rush of your orgasm and let it take hold of your body. Toji shoots his hot load into you, holding your hips tightly as you both let out breathy moans of each other’s names alongside profanity. 

Your walls greedily milk him of every drop that he has to give, and you sigh in contentment as you relax against him, sweaty but satisfied. 

Your legs had gone jelly now, the lactic acid build up was catching up to you. Many won’t know this but Toji does have an attentive side that he keeps reserved for you (and his son sometimes). You find yourself smiling when he brings his hands to your thighs and massages them gently, squeezing your muscles a little to get rid of the lactic acid burn. 

You kiss him slowly, taking your time to savour the taste of him. 

“Can we go again?” You ask with a needy tone, but you couldn’t quite hide the slight tiredness in your voice. 

“Honey, we’ve gotta pump the brakes…I’m tired as shit right now and I need— we both need to sleep,” he sighs, running a hand up over his face, pushing his hair back a little. 

You pout at him, rubbing the base of his neck and leaning in to suck a dark mark onto his skin, knowing you’d have to let up. “Tomorrow, then? Breakfast, lunch, and dinner?”

“Do I look like a buffet to you?” He quips, and you dissolve into a fit of laughter. “But…fine. Since you asked so nicely.”

Do not copy or translate my work. © ashasdiary, all rights reserved.

Divider by cafekitsune

[cindysnuts]

Good News everyone!!

The anemia WASNT caused by taking too much cbd!!! It was just from plain old internal bleeding! Gamer win!!

[someonehugratchet]

CW: drug abuse

Thinking about Ratchet and his prototype energon and how it’s so clearly meant to be like a steroid of some kind.

We saw him use it once and the effect it had, but what if he didn’t stop?

He’s a medic, he was able to figure out energon enough to have it help him even if there were bad side effects and he, y’know, figured out how to save Cybertron. So, it’s not all that unrealistic to think about him finding a way to lessen the effects some.

Now, if he did it so he wouldn’t have none of the side effects that he would have just made energon.

That’s not what I’m thinking, but more him finding a way to micro dose to give short burst of energy when he, oh I don’t know, pulls an all nighter to do work? Starts to get tired or saw from his older joints? When he feels like he’s not doing enough and needs something so he can be ‘better’ for his team?

It would be so easy for him to fall into addiction, especially with an enhancement drug that does actually sustain his life force some.

Of course he’d have to be careful about his optics turning green, but it’s Ratchet, he’d either find a fix or a way to hide it.

It’s not abnormal for any kind of medical personnel to self-prescribe drugs and the fact that he’s so well informed would make him convince and gaslight himself into thinking he’s in control. He’d definitely know what he’s doing is wrong, but he’s also so sure that he’s the reason his team gets hurt or suffers even if there’s nothing to suggest that.

I think that it would take the team a while to notice, but conceiving him to stop?

Ratchet is a stubborn old man at the best of times, but when you try tell him he’s wrong in any way?

They’re going to need some divine intervention for this one.

[ohmyplasticstars]

Cw: for EDs, V_mit_ng and Self St_ving

Poor guy!

That makes his nightmare form pretty sad aw

I feel bad for Gauss,I believe he's a lovely man whether he is chubby or chubby buff whatever he is under that suit.

Me personally I think he's buff chubby but the way he maintains his physique isn't in a healthy manner and that's where his eating disorder lies

Maybe he has bulimia, because it's the type of eating disorder where you binge eat a lot and then compensate for it through concerning ways like vomiting and self starvation

Maybe he's stressed about constantly having to be perfect to the public, one wrong move and he's gonna lose people and the public is.... EVERYWHERE and EVERYONE outside, must feel lonely.

Maybe he copes by having a lot of treats but then starts feeling guilty and you know

What's the point of socialising if you're never yourself? It's as bad as being lonely.

He also lives alone, so doesn't seem to have anyone for emotional support or anyone who knows him beyond his public image. Anyone who ever wants to be with him wants to be with his swauve, smug, confident, and planned out television persona he doesn't know if anyone will ever want to be with his regular self. Hell nobody knows what he's like behind the curtains.

So I think his nightmare form kinda reflects his nightmare, his fear that he's living a lie. He feels like he's not good enough. Because everything he does outside is planned out to please the public. He feels unworthy inside that if someone saw the real guy inside they'd be disappointed and put out by him.

I wouldn't be surprised if he uses steroids or some drugs to keep his physique up

Also his eyes being closed feels symbolic, like you know what they say, eyes are the window to the soul and he keeps his one closed. His smile feels forced like he feels like he's fooling nobody. The chain on his body feels restrictive like he's not allowed to go beyond a certain mold and the top of his head is tiny because he feels stupid. Just a dumb pretty puppet that's ugly on the inside, but pretty on the outside for the news industry to use.

-------------------------------------------------

So I guess the nightmare neighbors are negative perceptions of what the neighbor's fears are, worst nightmares are ect.

I'm gonna hold izaack like a hamburger now

[pseudowho]

Most of the times, on the day before my period I sob. Over the most mundane reasons. I cry and then i stop and then i remember and then i cry again and then my whole mood is ruined. Any shitty period symptoms you have?

This sounds like pretty normal PMS to me. And it really is normal; it's shitty, yes, but I'm 100% certain that so many of us here relate. Allow yourself to feel it! There's nothing wrong with you. It's just the way your hormones conspire against you, sadly. Keep yourself well fed and hydrated, and don't beat yourself up.

For me, and the shitty period symptoms...

CW/TW: PMDD, self-hurties

I personally suffer from diagnosed PMDD. It's like PMS on steroids, and I'm currently receiving Gynaecological care to try to shut down my ovaries to prevent ovulation, as every month I become dangerously depressed, anxious, suicidal, clumsy, foggy, forgetful and aching all over.

So...yes. I very much do have shitty pre-period symptoms.

But I'll be okay.

Love,

-- Haitch xxx

[botanikos]

Holy crap bae what is the story of the iron infusion? If you're comfortable talking about it! Am so glad you're still here!!!

Sure, I'm comfortable with it! It's not my only brush with death, just my most intense one!

cw for menstruation mention!

☆

To start, among my myriad of issues, I was diagnosed with PCOS (Polcystic Ovary Syndrome). This means I have a hormonal disorder and get cysts on my ovaries. Additionally, and ultimately how we found out about the worsening of the PCOS, I had extremely irregular menstrual cycles. So following a rather harsh 32-day cycle with pain in which i described as "wolverine gutting me repeatedly even though there's nothing left," and a failed trip to the hospital for aid, it was determined that due to these excessive cycles, I was severely anemic! Borderline blood transfusion, anemic. Yaaay!

Fast-forward! I was scheduled to undergo 2 rounds of Injectafer, an iron infusion to help get my levels back on track ( at the time, I wasn't capable of holding iron or producing enough of it ). The first session was fine! I sat with my phone and my mom and watched some Netflix.

Second infusion. . . They hooked me up, I got comfortable, and opened my book. I had enough time to look at my mom and said, "Hey, I'm sure it's just my anxiety, but I felt a small pain in my arm. Probably just the needle, but my chest feels cold and—" !! Everything went black, and I couldn't breathe. I could distantly hear people around me, but I couldn't move or see or breathe. My mom says I flushed red, and then all the blood left my body in an instant. They apparently even started to pull out a crash cart.

But they stopped the infusion and immediately replaced it with Benadryl and whatever steroid they used. The coming-back was ROUGH, and they forced the medicine into me quickly, so it BURNED.

Anyway, the staff there now know me by name; pretty sure it scared the shit out of them coz it doesn't happen so often and was really supposed to be an incredibly low chance of that happening.~

SO YEA, I am allergic to Injectafer! 1 of 2 known medical allergies! BUT I MAKE A STABLE AMOUNT OF IRON ON MY OWN NOW !!!!!!!!!!!! YAY ME!!!!!!

[mimallah]

Well it's here

Are you ready for it

The Nathan Essay (and a Bonus Theory)

CW: Child Abuse/Neglect, SA/CSA, Beastiality (because Matt n Trey are losers who think those jokes are funny), substance abuse by minors, ableism

Nathan is a minor antagonist within South Park, his first appearance was the Season 8 (2004) episode 'Up the Down Steroid', his role was minor but kickstarted the main plot, Jimmy abusing steroids that he bought from Nathan to get ahead in competition. From here, he's appeared with a connection to the main plot 8 more times, and once within the game The Fractured But Whole, as a minor antagonist in the Bring the Crunch DLC. His next appearance was 'Crippled Summer', an episode from Season 14 (2010), 6 years since his original debut. His personality had shifted a bit from UTDS, going from soft spoken and laid back yet shifty, to angry, loud, demanding, and psychopathic. Reasons for this behavior wouldn't be presented until the Season 18 (2014) episode 'Handicar', and only 2 minutes at the end cover it. Despite this lack of screentime, and the years between development in his character, he is one of the more complex and realistically tragic characters within the show. In this writing, events that lead and build to his development will be laid out and analyzed. At the end a bonus, less realistic, theory will be explored about an issue within 'Crippled Summer'.

Trauma, and the Result.

Traumatic events aren't a uncommon experience in this show, in fact they're often used just as a joke, a lot of Nathan's own trauma is just an in-joke for the audience to laugh at. The bulk of on screen trauma happens within 'Crippled Summer', showcasing Nathan being shot multiple times all over with arrows twice, bitten by a black mamba (in the middle of the woods where help would most likely take over an hour to get to him), blown up with a pound of C4, and finally, the distasteful start to a long running, horrofic joke with the character, being sexually assaulted twice by a shark. Even though all of this is played as a joke for the audience to laugh at (and they REALY think Nathan being SA'd, espcally by animals, is funny. It happens in the back of Mimsy's Phone Destroyer card too.), it's still, plain and simple,*trauma*. It is revealed later within 'Handicar', that his parents just...don't love him. There's no care for him within them. Sure, his mom kisses him on the head and calls him sweetie, but it's immediately turned around when he begs not to go to Summer camp that year (wonder why he wouldn't want to go back to camp...) and she claims she "can't understand him." She continues to ignore him the entire scene even as he grows more and more frustrated, eventually turning off the lamp on his nightstand despite his protest and leaves, and when she leaves she LOCKS the door behind her. Locks Nathan in his room. He can be heard falling and screaming in pain after, and continuing to yell for his friend Mimsy and run into things behind the conversation his mother has with his father:

___

Nathan's dad

What's he saying?

Nathan's mom

That he doesn't wanna go to summer camp this year, but I'll be damned if he's gonna ruin our Italy trip.

Nathan's dad

Right.

___

So she can understand him, she just chooses to pretend she can't because she doesn't WANT to listen. She doesn't love him, she would rather dump him off at a Summer camp and take her own trip because she believes he'll ruin it. They don't even acknowledge when he gets hurt and is screaming in pain, they just walk off. There's no love for him there, even in this single, 2 minute scene. 'Handicar' is also home to another SA scene used as a joke against Nathan, including him doing a "wacky" quip about "and I thought a shark was bad". He is also laughed at about the shark incident in this episode by Mimsy, the only friend he seems to have. Throughout the episode, Mimsy brings up Nathan just talking to his parents, and it's been established what happens when he does,so he shuts it down every time. 'Handicar' is just about a hurt, traumatized child trying to get away from a camp full of painful memories, only to get more hurt in the process...and to go home and recieve more neglect.

Nathan's response to the trauma he has experienced is, like the trauma itself, played as a joke. He hits people, he's angry all the time, he screams and yells and gets violent. He is SO HURT, he only knows HOW TO HURT BACK. In recent appearances, he's taken to usual vices. Substance abuse in the child characters in this show isn't uncommon. In fact, sometimes it's handled pretty well. Stan's alcoholism is played relatively straight, the tone remaining cold and somber for most of the scenes and even when played as a "joke" it maintains a serious, heavy air. Tweek is canonically addicted to meth without even knowing it, being made to work within his parents coffee shop, the parents lacing the coffee with meth to get people addicted and coming back. Tweek drinks this when his parents make him "taste test" it, and it has been shown that they keep him steady on it, obviously not wanting him to go into withdrawals.

Within Basic Cable, Nathan accepts Scott Malkinson's insulin as a trade for a Dosney+ account, using it himself before he handed over the account information. In the most recent special, 'Not Suitable for Children', he is shown smoking. His coping has gotten more unsafe and unhealthy.

Nathan and Friend(s)

Within South Park, characters tend to be broken off into groups of friends. The main five, Craig's gang, the Goth Kids, the Girls, all examples. There's also the Spec Ed Kids, though that is more a distinction of characters in a second class. Timmy and Jimmy are in this group, but are also within Craig's gang. Nathan's status within friend groups is..nonexistent. He's pretty much alone. He has Mimsy, and Frances is friendly towards him on occasion, but overall, he's alone. He hasn't even hung out with Mimsy since the Season 21 (2017) episode Moss Piglets. Likely, he is ostracized for his violent outbursts linked to his trauma. No one wants to hang out with the kid that hits and yells, who would? It's this reason, I feel, that Nathan IS so jealous of Jimmy. He's one of the popular kids, he's loved and friends with everyone. He has everything Nathan doesn't. Jimmy's parents are. Messy. Ableist at worst...but they still love him. They still care for him and his safety. At least more than Nathan's own. Jimmy has everything to Nathan, and he is so hurt and jealous. Everything Nathan does is for attention, because he has nothing. He wants to win the science fair because he wants people to pay attention to him, he WANTS to win the camp competition despite how much he hates camp because he gets to perform a song if he does and then people will be PAYING ATTENTION TO HIM. That's all he wants. That's why he's continued his original gimmick of being a dealer despite how many episodes center around him just being Jimmy's antagonist. If he's the guy that has anything you need or want, then he'll get attention. He'll be needed.

Nathan isn't the most tragic, yes, but he's up there for me, his whole existence built up on cries for attention and a want to belong. A character build on failures and traumas no one, especially not a child, should endure, just because it's "funny". Maybe one day we'll see him get his redemption arc, get friends and help. Get love.

BONUS: Cthulhu Theory

This is just a fun bonus because I don't really know where to put it, but I have a theory/headcanon that I enjoy thinking about a lot based on the impossibility of Crippled Summer.

South Park doesn't really shy away from killing characters off, they do it pretty often and pretty brutally. Even long running staple characters like Miss Crabtree and Chef weren't safe from being brutally murdered. So why is it that Nathan went through everything from being shot to crushed in 'Crippled Summer'?

I believe and theorize he's also cursed by Cthulhu like Kenny, unable to die permanently. He took several fatal injuries throughout the entire episode and just...walked em off immediately! Not to mention the episode ends with him being exploded by a POUND of C4, bit by a black mamba (which if not treated right away has a literally 100% fatality rate, and then a rapid fire of every other injury he got that episode repeated (Yes. Including the shark.). He should be dead, yet, he came back, for 6 more episodes and counting. I believe wholeheartedly he is also under Cthulhu's immortality curse, affecting him differently than Kenny. Personal headcanon being that since Kenny's parents just randomly stumbled into the ritual his curse requires a full death to be revived, whereas I headcanon Nathan's parents actually did a ritual as a joke leading to Nathan being just unable to die even temporarily.

******

Thank you so much for reading this far if you have, it means a lot to me and it's crazy that people would enjoy reading this, a 1.5k word ramble about an 8 episode background character XD tysm, I love you

[tiredrobin]

referring to my last post im too lazy to like. explain the premise in detail so the basic idea is danny and damian twins thing, danielle/dani clone is the same age as danny, she has his memories but not all of them and jumbled and fragmented and messy and it fucks with her a lot. and danny also. now theyre triplets in the way where damian has obviously no memories of dani but she remembers him and its SO MESSY and emotionally difficult for all of them because dani is 100% danny's sister but not damian's. heres a non-specific ficlet thing i tamped out because this au is stuck in my fucking head but i dont know enough to write it because i dont care abt dc stuff. thanks for understanding

also. theyre literally all transgender. because i said so. this is a legal requirement for this au. vlad switched the chromosomes to make a more stable clone but dani was like "...no, im a girl actually". danny and dani joke about switching bodies all the time. damian and danny didn't know they were trans until after they separated, damian still doesnt know danny is because he thinks danny is dead, danny does know Now because damians a wayne and is in the news and danny recognized him evn tho no one but damian's family knows hes transmasc. also danny is transmasc in the agender kind of way. nothing can fucking stop me

vague context: sometimes dani quizzes danny on his/sorta-their past, bcuz her memories are so weird and jumbled and it helps to hear the truth evn when she cant actually remember it.

cw: brief mention of an adult being creepy towards children

-

"Okay," Dani says, and Danny pretends he isn't fervently praying she'll shut up.

"Okay," he echoes after a long moment, prompting. Somehow, the wariness doesn't leak into his voice.

"Third coach tried to kill us—you," she says.

'Third coach' means Danny and Damian's third trainer. Dani uses words pretty strangely, sometimes. Her language has a habit of slipping into something more rudimentary, simplified, like she's a toddler.

She's a year and seven months old. Her grasp on language is, in Danny's personal opinion, remarkable.

"That happened, yes," Danny says when he realizes he'd been quiet too long. He's starting to drag. These conversations are exhausting in a way he can never articulate, not even to Dani, but there'd be no reason to because he knows she gets it. From the way she's listing to her side in the air, the imbalance fucking with her physics enough that she's starting to drift very subtly to the left, she's worn thin.

"… Why?" she asks after a long pause. "He seemed nice."

Danny focuses in on the thrum of her core. It's in near-perfect resonance with his own, which used to be so deeply disturbing it made his skin crawl but now feels soothing. It's a balm on his frayed nerves during the bad days; a reminder that, though he's lost one sibling, he has another.

"He wasn't," Danny murmurs. Third trainer smiled a lot—that might be what Dani is remembering—but he had wandering hands and a creepy way of looking at him and Damian. He taught them about pinching nerves. His fingers always lingered.

"Oh," says Dani. She rights her tilt, though she's still drifting. Danny's brain does a weird thing, a math sort of thing, that calculates the angle of her drift, the current speed, the projected acceleration. If she keeps going, she'll bump into the wall in three minutes, twenty-seven seconds.

(His brain does weird things like that, sometimes. Frostbite says it's a result of ectoplasm mixing with living neural pathways. The ectoplasm appears to be acting as a stimulant of sorts, or maybe a steroid. A stimulant-steroid. (…Stimuloid?) He hadn't been able to follow the explanation very well at the time, due to the fact that his brain was doing the opposite of what it's doing now. Sometimes he thinks so fast it feels like his thoughts are teleporting; sometimes his head is so foggy he can barely process what's right in front of him. It's super great. Super.)

"… Oh," Dani says again, softer. Then, in an abrupt subject change, "Did you really almost push Tucker off some stairs?"

"You" this time. The way she selects it—"us", "me", "you"—it says a lot about how the memory feels to her. She'd been raised an assassin; she barely knows Tucker, Danny's oldest friend. She hardly recognizes dad; she wants to cling to Sam. Sometimes it's him, sometimes it's her, sometimes it's a weird third thing. Or something. She'd phrased it in a way that made him laugh and forget most of it, when he'd asked, and now he regrets that.

"I did, yeah," he huffs a laugh. "He stole—"

"Our truck!" Our. "Yeah, okay, I remember that."

"It wasn't a truck."

"No? It—ohhh, it was the, um. The model train. The one you built! That Tucker's dad gave you."

He nods. "Yeah. I was worried he'd break it."

"And pushing him down the stairs wouldn't?"

"Assassin training."

"Sure."

One of her eyes is a little crinkled. She might be getting a headache, because that's the face Danny makes when he's getting a headache. (It's the face Damian made when he got one, too.) (Stop comparing them.) "You should get some rest," Danny tries.

"I'll get nightmares."

Her nightmares are weird. She's talked about them enough for Danny to feel familiar with them, even though his are nothing like her's. She'd tried sharing one with him, once, and it'd hurt his head for days after.

"I'm gonna get nightmares too, now," he points out. She winces. Danny realizes too late that might have sounded more accusatory than intended. He wanted her to stop asking questions, yeah, but not at the cost of herself. He's the reason she exists now; he's the reason why her head is so stuffed full of things that don't make sense, memories and daydreams and terrors both real and imagined haunting every step she takes. Even if he isn't the one that made her, hadn't ever wanted her—even if that, she's his responsibility.

"It goes both ways, idiot," she says.

She's not reading his mind, but. It's like she is. She can feel his core like it's his thoughts, and that's near enough. "I'm the older brother," he says, intentionally putting something a little haughty in his voice, a tone he hasn't carried since he was, like, eight or something. The effect is ruined a bit as he lays down, angled so he can still watch her drift towards the wall. "You're my responsibility. That's how it goes."

She rolls her eyes. "What if I wanna be the older brother?"

"Can't. You're the youngest, out of the three of us."

Dani sort of… pauses.

Danny does, too. He hadn't meant to say that out loud. Damian is… "gone" isn't the right word, because he's not dead. Not like Danny thought he was for a… for a while. But he's off limits in a way Danny can't access. He hasn't referred to Damian as his brother since the first time Dani started asking questions, and she'd been careful to avoid doing so herself. Which would seem considerate, if Danny didn't know she avoided it because the whole thing just feels too big and too messy to look at in the eyes.

And here Danny's gone, shoving his foot in his mouth. The three of us. There isn't three; Damian has to think Danny's dead. Has to have mourned him. If Damian knew…

It's so scary to think about.

And—there's Dani, now. Not a replacement—nothing could replace Damian—but Damian would feel that she is. Probably.

"What a mess," Dani says.

Had she thought the same things? Maybe. No way to tell without asking, and Danny's too tired to ask. "Yeah."

She touches down onto the ground. On silent feet, she checks the locks on Danny's door, and then she pads over to the bed and nudges him until he gives her enough space to lay down next to him. She's not going to sleep here, and Danny won't be able to sleep with her there (it reminds them both of sharing a bed with Damian), but she likes to do this sometimes and Danny likes it when she does.

Neither of them say anything else. Danny won't be able to fall asleep, but he manages to start a very light doze. Dani's core thrums contentment and his echoes it. She's saying I love you I love you I love you and he's singing it back, and when her pinkie hooks into his—like Damian, like Damian, stop comparing them but it's so much like Damian—Danny curls his to lock it in place.

"I might to spy on him," she murmurs after an unknown amount of time.

Danny cracks open an eye. "You won't."

"I want to," she amends, "But… I won't." I'm scared, she doesn't say, but Danny can hear it anyway.

"The tabloids do it enough for us," Danny points out.

She snorts. "Yeah, sure. 'Damian Wayne: Vegetarian or secret animal killer?' Definitely a good accurate way to get information."

Danny smiles and lets his eyes slip shut again. "He was like that even when we were little." Didn't like eating meat, eating animals.

"I remember."

He sighs. His core sings I love you. Dani's pinkie slips from his. There's a sweep of cold, like a blanket being pulled over him, and then she's gone. He might see her in a week; he might not see her for months.

Danny drifts to sleep.

[queen-mabs-revenge]

cw pet death

so my little freak of nature and i said goodbye last night which, as per other post about this, was silly and perfect in so many ways. from the death of one roman to another, and so it goes.

but yeah i just want to reflect on how i'm feeling to have it down because i'm devastated, yes, but i couldn't have asked for a better last day with her.

when we went with the steroid injections on wednesday, the vet was like 'in 48 hours you'll essentially see her at as best as she's going to be so you'll be able to decide then' and honestly by yesterday morning, she was very much the same except for the increased thirst drive and the slight increased interest in food (she licked a piece of chicken uau), so at that point making her linger would just see her decline from there.

yesterday was the first sunny day we've had in a good while -- sparkling sun and a high of 14. i rang into work and asked if there was anything urgent that needed doing, because i'd like to spend a last beautiful day with my cat. they were so gracious and covered for me, batting away a load of clients who decided they needed artwork on a friday before a long weekend lmao ok bye. spent a little time doing a last clutch of artwork with her sleeping on my belly in the sun.

got her into her harness and it was so clear that this was the right thing - she loves going outside, but hates that thing being put on her. i've modded it so that it has a clasp at the neck, but still clipping the torso bit always gets a hiss or two, but she just let me at it. got everything prepared including lining her backpack with a bin liner, a absorbent puppy pad, and then loads of fleece blankets and a couple of those instant heat pads.

out into the sunshine and onto our usual walk - she came out on my shoulder to have a look at the world, but for the most part stayed curled up in the bottom watching everything while lying down.

we got to the rag tree still cradling my gift pumpkins:

she got to walk on the branches:

the whole wooded area was prickling to life -- lots of leaf buds still tightly closed but getting ready, lots of tiny plant shoots making that first curve out of their seeds with their head still down in the shells

took the walk home through the park we always sit in behind the museum and watched the ducks on the shannon and listened to the river go by together

fed her for the last time on her window seat and then we cuddled some more while i rang my family so they could say goodbye to her on a video call

and then i experienced just pure love -- mo's been kind of a mascot for the branch - because of my apartment's location, i've been really lucky to serve as kind of a hub. i keep equipment and supplies for political stalls and protests, i host small meetings, etc. so her illness has been something the whole branch has known about and seen.

from the get-go i've had comrades offering help left and right, and during the last week, a few close comrades offered support in whatever way i needed it when her time came. i had to resist that depression tug to isolate, and just throughout the day as plans were taking shape, i kept in touch with them and i had a handful of my dearest come to the house before we made our way down to the vet. they left us have a few minutes alone in the house which... leaving that house with her for the last time was probably one of the hardest things. knowing she wouldn't be there when i got back. whew.

got to the office and got settled in and talked with the vet about postmortem plans. my first choice had always been to donate her body for study; i'd actually rang a few veterinary science schools, but i was told that their cadavers are procured through a closed system so that they can control for disease and whatnot for health and safety reasons. but the vet said that they'd would be honored to conduct a postmortem there and it would be really valuable for some newer vets in the practice, so that's what's going to happen. after, she'd still have been cremated, so i'm going to get her ashes in a scatter tube in a couple of weeks.

i had enough gabapentin to make sure mo was a bit stoned before going in, which was important for me because she usually has to be put into a feral cat crush cage to get any injections done because she's so fractious at the vets, but i was able to hold her while she got the primary sedative injection which meant so much.

she screamed like a hellcat and like....that's so her - herself to the very end! and i got the privilege of laughing about that with friends because they heard her from outside the door lol. they came in and gave her rubs and pets after she was sedated and i got to cuddle her loads after she got the cannula placed.

and my god that could have been so awful, but i had five dear friends who i love and who love me and who i fight and organize and struggle with who were there the whole time - they were out in reception chatting with each other and laughing and i could hear them in the room while i just held and and spoke to mo and stroked her fur, and that was so lovely instead of dead silence all alone.

vet came in and it was time; i held my baby as she pushed the euthanasia meds and felt her little breaths quicken and then slow before the vet checked her heartbeat. we laid her out on the table and i took pictures of all of her borlotti bean toes, we did pawprints, and i just got to pet her and stay with her for as long as i needed. she had a postmortem wee, and one of her wild postmortem reflexes was that her tail went full bottlebrush for about half a minute!

i took the blanket with me because it was hers, but wrapped her in a soft towel i had and just, yeah -- as the vet took her away she was talking to her just telling her that she did so well and she did. not just in that last moment, but just for 12 years she did so so well -- just the best old lady, my best friend in the whole world, the little beast that genuinely helped me survive lockdown, domestic upheaval, mental health struggles -- my walking buddy who's a minor local celebrity in her own right, and i was so so so lucky to have her.

and then we all went to our usual haunt which by perfect chance is right around the corner from the vet's office and toasted to her and just spent time together and just... if her last gift that she gave me was truly knowing that i have people who i can call on at any time, well then that's a hell of a gift.

going home was hard, but got to speak to my family and recount it all which helped and got so much love from them, too, and yeah look.

it was heartbreaking, but also heart mending.

truly the good death.

[fruitsofhell]

CW for an anti-black slur cause it's the name of a damn movie title, also mentions of historical racism in cartoons

Get really pissed off whenever I think about Coonskin by Ralph Bakshi because I need to rewatch it to see if it might be a fave movie of mine. I want to go over all of Bakshi's filmography sometime and really digest how he deals with depicting black people (especially Fritz the Cat cause the black crows are so cute!), cause he's in an interesting perspective where he is undoubtably sympathetic to us and grew up around us, but expresses this in ways that are soooo over the top we commonly see them now as only acceptable For A Black Person To Do.

Like, he's some white Jewish guy from the slums, he doesn't really have the right to reclaim the racist iconography as we think of it but at the same time it's like if someone's doing interesting artistic work they're doing interesting work. And I as a black person have actually been really inspired by that film ever since I watched it.

Ever since the rubber hose style became super hot again cause of Cuphead and Bendy I've seen people actively downplay how goddamn racist old cartoons were, or I've seen people pick up a clip from an old film and I just go "Chat, they don't know this is a quietly racist animation trend...". But it's not even just that old cartoons were racist and had racist trends, it was baked into their fundamental styles of comedy and cartooning - they were built to either exclude or humiliate blackness. And I feel like Coonskin is a work that expresses that very very loudly but with some sense of purpose.

I personally have wanted to tap into that idea since I started playing with golden age art styles, but for the tone I set in my shit that's way too overbearing. Plus, maybe as an actual black person something unique for me and not Bakshi is a wish to actually see myself represented in those old cartoon styles as more than as an object of controversy. I've also been meaning to watch more of the Proud family and works by Bruce W. Smith cause of that too, I heard in an interview he was motivated to draw because he wanted to see black folks in that mid-century, modernist style and like, SAME.

But it's actually way easier to work black features into that incredibly flexible style than it is to brute force them into the centerline/rubberhose ones where their origins can be traced back TO BLACKFACE. You guys remember that fucking lesson right? How the entire generic rubbergose face is a play on blackface, that's why the mouths and eyes are white but the body is black. If you're unfamiliar with that idea or don't believe it, look up Bosko, Warner Bros first attempt at a mascot, and see if you can tell what he's supposed to be.

It's more of an uphill battle, but not impossible to make it work in those styles. Though I have also considered the utility of borrowing directly from those racist designs to express a meta-contextual feeling/understanding that that is what you look like as a black person in this time period - that is you in the dominant narrative vision of the time. No matter what you are as a black person, to the historical zeitgeist you just appear as some flavor of coon yknow.

It could be a very potent visual tool I think, and I don't know if I'd be considering that if not for Bakshi and my relationship to Coonskin and its themeing. Which is the point, Bakshi was one of those racey types who always wanted to get people upset to start a convo or whatever. It's interesting to look at older but earnest expressions of this that would seem disastrous by today's standards - imagine "They couldn't make Blazing Saddles today" but true and on steroids.

[eisforeidolon]

Okay, I just have to comment on this [X]. In a couple different directions really.

First, agreeing with the obvious - of course Misha is making A SHOW of support for attention, because Misha is synonymous with desperate for attention. Especially since I wouldn't bet against him being entirely aware delusions about him appearing on TW to make D/C canon was keeping a bunch of his loonies on the hook.

Then we move along to the usual fallacy of thinking that if something doesn't happen on social media, it hasn't happened. As we see every damn time someone on the cast has a birthday. Considering Jared did mentor the TW cast to some extent, he likely did talk to them about the cancellation at some point - he just didn't feel the need to make a(nother) public comment.

Of course after that, we've got the same old same old cluelessness of thinking the actors should be reacting when the fans find out about something they've known for a while. This is 'How dare anyone be happy when Misha is getting divorced!!!' all over again. They really think because an article was published just now that Jensen and the other TW people only knew it was dead dead now? I mean, of course some of the fans had wildly unrealistic expectations, but do they really think the TW team wasn't aware most cancelled shows don't get picked up elsewhere (it's rare for any show at any time, but for a not-particularly-successful CW show during a writer's strike)? This wasn't a surprise to anybody who knows anything about how things actually work. So they're not only asserting Jared should look less happy at an SPN con where fans are paying to see him, a moronic premise to start with, but that he should do so over something that's not actually news, just some fans belatedly noticing their unrealistic expectations bubble get well and truly popped.

Which brings us around to the final load of nonsense which comes back up all the time, present in the linked post and the anon, people in this fandom being way way more confident in their ability to read the actors than they are because they're projecting like a fucking IMAX on steroids. Jared is smiling and laughing this con weekend because ... Jared's public persona for cons is generally smiling and laughing. Despite the assertions Jensen looks "pissed off" or "a bit off" or whatever? I looked through the tags and from what I saw? In a few photos he's doing his usual grumpy Jensen schtick, which again ... is just something he does at cons. Not to mention there are plenty where he's smiling ... just like every other con. They're doing what they always do, not sending you super secret signals with their faces.

Every kind of interpretation it's possible to do, certain loud parts of this fandom are embarrassingly bad at it because they don't care about common sense or full-picture context, just their own weird-ass agendas.

[shion-yu]

Day 30 - Coma

It gets more than Elliot can handle at home (part 3). Part one here and part two here. Whumptober 2023! I’m using the @ailesswhumptober's prompt list. This story is about my OC Cliff - here’s his profile if you’re so inclined: https://toyhou.se/23741453.cliff. This one’s a multiparter, this is the third and final part (I think).

TW/CWs: Major chronic illness, hospitalization

The ICU was much quieter than the emergency room. For some reason that was worse - maybe because it forced Elliot to think about something other than the chaos around him. Cliff lay on bleached white sheets pale as a ghost. Elliot couldn't bring himself to look directly at him. Perhaps the sound of the ventilator pumping in and out should have been comforting because it meant Cliff was still alive, but it wasn’t. It really wasn’t.

Moira called him sobbing. The hospital had notified Cliff’s father, who had then notified her. She was on the first plane there but it wouldn't arrive until later that afternoon. Elliot just told her it was fine. Cliff was stable, at least as stable as someone who couldn't breathe on their own could be. Cliff’s father made a short appearance but said little, focusing his efforts on working with Cliff’s doctors on diagnosis and plan of care. Elliot didn’t even have the energy to glare at him properly.

Upon arriving, Moira hugged Elliot right away. Elliot tried to comfort her but his attempts were half-hearted when he could find little to comfort himself with. He had called his own mom and had a full breakdown on the phone earlier. While she was of course supportive and worried for Elliot, she hadn’t offered to come by the hospital either. Elliot understood, but secretly he wondered if part of that was influenced by resentment, too. He'd been so broken the first time they'd split up and he knew she was still worried Cliff could just be using him as someone to take care of him now that he was sick. It wasn't true, but it was a fact that ate away at Elliot's consciousness. It was similar with Milo - he could call his best friend, but the guy would only be there for Elliot’s sake, not Cliff’s. His followers online definitely weren’t the right place for this. Ultimately, he felt alone.

Several differential diagnoses were thrown around over the next few days, but none of them stuck. The doctor explained that they'd taken several samples of blood, CSF, lung tissue and sputum to test and they were waiting to see what grew. However they were sure that at the least it was a very bad infection, most likely an opportunistic one from long term steroid use; Cliff's immune system was destroyed by the very medication that had been keeping him alive. There was talk about brain surgery too if nothing grew on the cultures which sounded beyond terrifying, but thankfully on the fourth day after arriving Dr. Barrows told Elliot and Moira they'd identified a bacteria - nocardia. It was something that was usually harmless in most people, but in this case it was severe and Cliff's chances of survival were extremely poor considering it had already reached his brain. The most intensive of antibiotics were all they could hope for. Elliot googled nocardia and then quickly wished he didn't, because it said the chances of survival for disseminated nocardiosis in immune suppressed people was only about 15%. That number throbbed in his mind. 15% sounded painfully low.

Despite this number, Cliff did respond to the antibiotics. His numbers were apparently getting better, even though to someone like Elliot he seemed the same. A week in, the ventilator was removed and sedation weaned. Cliff was breathing on his own with just oxygen, but he wasn’t waking up. There was nothing else to do but wait at that point and hope that Cliff’s body allowed him to wake up again. There was a possibility that there would be lasting brain damage. There was a possibility that he’d never wake up at all. The idea of either thing happening was almost too much for Elliot to handle. The stress caused him to feel the tug of old habits, but he ignored them for Cliff’s sake and Cliff’s sake only.

Elliot couldn’t help but blame himself though. Cliff had been getting progressively weaker for a while, but they’d assumed it was just part of his flare up. The doctor said that there was no way of knowing - Cliff’s immune system was so poor that he likely hadn’t been showing signs of the growing infection until it was so severe. Still, Elliot kept thinking, maybe if he had just paid a bit more attention...

It had been ten days since they’d come to the hospital. Elliot had rarely left the building this entire time and he was exhausted. This evening, Moira had convinced him to go home to shower and to take a nap; Elliot had resisted, but once he’d given in he didn’t even remember getting home before he passed out for the entire night, dead to the world. He was woken up the next morning by Milo knocking on his door - apparently zombie-Elliot from last night had texted him to come wake him up in the morning if he didn’t wake up himself. He hadn’t, after twelve long hours of sleep.

Milo gave Elliot a tight hug before coming in and immediately providing Elliot with much needed coffee and breakfast that he’d brought. “You look terrible,” Milo pointed out. “Have you eaten anything at all?”

“Thanks a lot... And yes. Cliff’s sister force feeds me every so often,” Elliot mumbled around a hot cup of coffee. He closed his eyes and felt like if he let himself, he’d sleep for another twelve hours. He was so tired, so worried. “What if he never wakes up, Milo?”

“He’ll wake up. He’s pretty stubborn,” Milo pointed out. It was a testament to how serious things were that he didn’t take the opportunity to tell Elliot he’d be better off without Cliff. “But he needs you alive, too. You need to take care of yourself.”

“I’m trying. I’m here, aren’t I?” Elliot snapped. Then he sighed, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean...”

Milo nodded. “It’s okay, I know. You love him.” 

Elliot looked up at Milo in surprise. “Really?” His best friend had always disapproved of his relationship with Cliff, something that had pulled them apart before. 

“Yeah,” Milo said. “You need him too. So he’s going to wake up.” 

They fell quiet, Elliot nursing his coffee and willing himself the energy to go back to the hospital. He showered and was convincing himself to return to that painful waiting game when his phone began to ring on full volume. Immediately panicked, Elliot grabbed it and saw that it was Moira. Please don’t be bad news. “Hello?!”

“He’s waking up,” Cliff’s sister answered. She sounded like she was crying. “Come back, okay?”

She didn’t have to tell him twice. Milo drove Elliot back to the hospital in record time and Elliot sprinted up to Cliff’s room. He couldn’t believe it until he saw for himself, but there Cliff was, eyes half lidded but open. The head of the bed was elevated and Moira was there holding his hand, talking softly to him. When Elliot showed up she smiled and pointed at him. “There he is,” she said.

Elliot burst into tears. He hugged Cliff as tight as he dared what with how fragile Cliff surely was, trying not to get caught in all the wires. When he pulled back, Cliff’s eyes were looking at him. Elliot let out a relieved sob. “You’re awake.”

“He’s not talking yet,” Moira informed Elliot gently. “I don’t think he really knows what’s going on.”

"That’s okay. That’s okay, baby, you’re awake, that’s what matters,” Elliot said. Cliff’s lips trembled slightly as if he were trying to say something, but nothing came out. Elliot wondered just how extensive that possible brain damage could be. But then he felt Cliff’s fingers twitch in his hand and he felt it form a very loose shape. He looked down and recognized it: sign language for I love you. And Elliot knew Cliff was going to be alright. Maybe not right away, but eventually, and that was what mattered.

Part 4

[return0fpluto]

Please for the love of the stars, if a doctor mistreats you and you're able to,

report it.

Story under the cut, CW for urgent cares, potential medication interactions, and medical malpractice

TL;DR: Doctor gave us dangerous meds, called our mother diabetic, pretty sure he got in massive trouble or is about to and good

There will be a green separation where the problems end and the consequences for medical malpractice start so if you can't do the whole thing, scrolling until you see green is also an option

Two days ago, this past Saturday, our mother took us to the Memorial Health Urgent Care Center next door to us. We were both fatigued, sore/scratchy throat, and overall felt awful and knew we needed medical attention. When checked, both of us had low fevers and were ushered into the back where we waited for a doctor.

It's important to note that 2 days before that, Thursday, our father went to that exact urgent care with pretty much the same symptoms, and was given a Medrol Dosepak, an steroid anti-inflammatory that works wonders for functioning until whatever you have has run it's course

The doctor walks in, after the swab for strep throat came back negative, and looks over us and the body's mother. "Seems like an upper respatory infection," he says, "I'll send you home with some cough syrup." The body's mother asks if either of us, particularly us (singular), could have a Medrol Dosepak, as they help and she knows they help

It would've been well within his rights to say no, and explain why he did. Instead, he said that he "doesn't prescribed Medrol Dosepaks" and that was that, he'd send us home with non-steroid treatment

He then came back into the room a couple minutes later and told our mother that he definitely wouldn't give her any steroid treatments, as she's diabetic and they could raise her blood sugar

Our mother is not diabetic. She's on metformin for former pre-diabetes that she doesn't even meet the threshold for anymore. This doctor saw a fat, mid-60s lady and decided she must be diabetic

He prescribed us each the following:

• 200 mg of Tessalon Perles (our mother had some from her regular doctor at half the dose, and this doctor was also going to give us, at least 100 lbs lighter, the same dose of 200 mg)

• A psudophedrine cough syrup after both of us expressed that we were taking Sudafed pills already (psudophedrine is basically the Cold & Sinus bit of Advil Cold & Sinus)

• 60 mg of Ibuprofen (WE (singular) ARE ON AN NSAID ALREADY. TAKING THAT WOULD'VE BEEN A HIGHLY DANGEROUS DOSE)

If our mother hadn't looked through those, or had been less informed, we would've ended up in the hospital at the very least. We would've most likely sustained serious and potentially life threatening injuries from those medications.

No other tests were done.

Less than an hour after we got home, we were both running high fevers and felt even worse. Our mother was able to safely drive us (thankfully) to the Holy Cross Urgent Care in the town over, where she had been able to make an appointment (side note, we remember none of this. We were texting a friend at the time and our memories come from re-reading those and recounts from other people, because we had an 100+° fever after Tylenol when we run cold).

It was COVID

We had COVID, both of us

This new doctor explained that an anti-inflammatory would stop our immune response and potentially make us sicker/more susceptible to long-term damage. He suggested things that could help, as well as listening to what our mother planned on taking and giving us, and said he could prescribe something but didn't need to, as that's about all he could've given us anyways.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Our mother sent messages to the Memorial support line from both of us explaining how the first doctor dismissed us out of hand and then prescribed us both that were flat-out dangerous, and I don't care if it was actual concern for patient wellbeing or fear of being sued, but today or tomorrow someone came/is coming out to talk to that doctor at minimum, and possibly get him in legal/medical board trouble.

Even if it's fear of a lawsuit, higher ups need to hear when a doctor is being negligent or dangerous

Please, please don't worry about being a "Karen", this is your LIFE on the line, you are allowed to be pissed if a doctor is toying with it even unintentionally!!

[kyluxtrashpit]

Old cat health update time. Kinda of another bad news good news situation. Cw for senior pet health problems

We’ve essentially eliminated most of the possible causes of the eye save for some sort of mass in her brain or nerves. It could be benign, it could not be. It could be slow growing or not. There’s still the theoretical possibility it’s idiopathic, but that’s rare in cats, so we’re going to operate under the worse case here for the sake of decision making

At this point in her life (16-17 years old) I don’t want to put her through any unpleasant treatments with a lot of hospital time. So we’re not going to do any scans, surgery, or chemo/radiation. There is, however, a low side effect steroid that can help at least slow it down

So we’re gonna try that. Worst side effects are she eats more (good for senior cats) and pees more. These are easy to deal with for both of us. And they’re gonna try to find a way to give it to her that does not involve daily pilling, which would also be ideal

I feel… weirdly okay with this. I kinda had a feeling this is what it would be. And depending on the specifics, she could still have years of good time left. She’s not having a lot of symptoms so that is ultimately a good sign

Obviously this isn’t the ideal scenario, but it’s not the worst case scenario either so we’re gonna see what we can do that won’t be unpleasant for her. Basically we’ll do everything we can to keep her happy and comfortable for as long as she can and let’s hope that time is on the longer end. She still could have years, so it’s not time to despair or anything like that

[backburnerdio]

OC Kiss Week – Day 2 Food

WIP: Time Borrowed Pairing: Beau & Garnet cw: Language, romance Words: 2357 Tag List: @irnalia, @waysofink, @ashen-crest, @spacetimewraithwrites,@dustylovelyrun, @idreamonpaper, @abalonetea, @jaimistoryteller, @kaiusvnoir, @writeouswriter, @reininginthefirewriting, @concealeddarkness13, @winterandwords (Used the Time Borrowed taglist, please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed from this event or the main taglist)

It had been a week since Garnet’s suspension and Beau found himself oddly excited to see him again. He didn’t know why. He kept fidgeting with the safety belt in Valetta’s hatchback, idly watching traffic as they zipped across town.

“You know, Beau, if you don’t wanna go over to Garnet’s, I don’t mind keeping you another week.” Valetta offered, lowering the music.

“I’m okay,” he nodded, turning his attention to her.

“You sure? You look kinda nervous.”

“No, I’m okay. I want to see him.”

“Yeah?” She grinned going strangely quiet before slowing them into the turning lane. “You know what he’d probably like? Some Pączki.”

Beau took a moment to identify what that was. “Donuts?”

“Ooh, yeah, no.” Valetta grimaced as they pulled into the bakery parking lot. “Cops eat donuts, Garnet eats Pączki. But between you and me, they’re the same thing. Just kinda like donuts on steroids.” She pulled them around to the drive-thru and was asked to wait to place her order. Valetta’s car was small, perfect for the way she zipped around traffic, but she was even smaller. She half pulled herself up into the window to be able to see out, drumming fingers on the door.

“Valetta?”

“Yep?” She twisted around to look at him, bottom lip pouting as she played with one of her piercings.

“How long have you known Garnet?”

“Ooy, uh, lemme think,” she sat back in her seat, staring out the windshield in thought. “Shit, I guess twelve years now. Couldn’t stand him at first. Kinda became friends out of sheerly trying to piss each other off.”

“Can I take your order?” A voice from a speaker asked, whipping her back around. It wasn’t the answer he expected. Of course, he knew Garnet was exclusively friendly. Valetta, Ryker, and Nebraska were the only ones Beau had only ever seen him kind towards. But it made him smile.

There’s a chance.

“I tell him all the time he’s too damn mean, but eventually he’ll give it up and be nice. You just gotta give it back to him. Don’t let him scare you.”

“He doesn’t scare me.”

“Tough guy now, huh?” Valetta playfully punched his shoulder, rolling them up to the window to be handed a paper sack. She bumped her wristband to their terminal before driving away. “Here, you hold these. But listen, for real, if at any point he annoys you and you need a ride or a place to stay, just let me know. I got you.”

“Thank you, Valetta.” He stopped playing with the safety belt, focusing on keeping the Pączki warm instead. It wasn't long before Valetta pulled them up to the curb of the apartments to park.

“Want me to go up with you?”

“No, no, I should be fine. I know which one it is.” He was careful not to drop the bag, getting out to get his bookbag from the back seat. “Thanks again for the ride.”

“Don’t mention it,” she leaned over, offering a fist. Beau reached in, gently bumping it with his own. “And, hey, don’t tell Garnet I bought those. He’ll be mad at me for spending money.”

“Are you not supposed to spend money?” Beau frowned.

“No, no, just Garnet thinks I shouldn’t spend money on him. Because, you know, I have a tattoo and piercing habit. Just, yeah, do me a favor and don’t mention it was me.”

“Okay,” Beau agreed, beginning to step away when he remembered something, “Oh! Lora really wants to go see that new murder mystery movie, but she’s too scared to go by herself. She says movies like that make her feel like she’s going to get killed in the parking lot. You should ask her out.” Valetta stared at him, brown cheeks catching a red tint as she gaped. “Okay, goodnight!” Beau hurried to the stairs, making it all the way up to Garnet’s floor before he saw Valetta’s car pull away from the curb.

He hoped she would take her.

The excitement he’d had in the car became something acidic without explanation. But it wasn’t fear. He wasn’t afraid of Garnet– had never been. Beau just kept thinking why Garnet wasn’t at work, that it had been over what happened with Bryant –because of Beau. When Garnet had brought him back after the scuffle and taken him to his SoulMedic appointment, Beau had hoped they really were friends.

But after being suspended, he wondered if Garnet regretted it now.

He paused outside the apartment door, cradling the Pączki, listening to the thrum of music coming from inside the apartment. What if Garnet hadn’t been serious about still having him over? What if it had been some type of sarcasm Beau didn’t get?

Well, I can’t eat these, and they can’t go to waste. He stared down at the bag and knocked on the door. After a while, when there was no answer, he figured Garnet couldn’t hear over the music and started to knock again when the gate was pulled open.

Garnet stood there in sweatpants, his usual defensive scowl easing into surprise as he scanned Beau over. “Oh, hey,” he answered, leaning out to check the hallway. Beau was momentarily distracted by the strange markings on Garnet’s skin, black segments running down his middle, designs covering one shoulder that spread to the elbow, his other arm wrapped in solid bands.

Garnet has tattoos too.

“I didn’t know you were gonna be here this early,” Garnet cut himself off as he checked his wristband, cursing lowly, “Oh, wait, I didn’t realize what time it was.”

“Should I come back later?” Beau offered.

“No, uh, no. It’s fine, I just…” He shifted his weight in the doorway, slightly pulling the door to behind him. Beau had never seen him fidget, drumming fingers on the trim as he glanced at the ground. It made it difficult for Beau not to smile.

He’s nervous too.

“Okay, I’m just gonna be honest with you, I, uh, I have no idea what I’m doing. Okay?”

“Okay.” Beau agreed.

“So, I was gonna…” he paused again, scowling before waving him in, “You know what? Fuck it. Lemme just show you.” Bumping the door open he led Beau inside, locking the door and hurrying past him. “I don’t know if you’ve ever tried reading an instruction manual, but you can’t judge me. This is a judge-free zone, and criticism isn’t allowed.” He paused at the end of the foyer, scratching at the side of his head.

Beau followed him in and stopped, thankful his gyroscopic systems acted as a safety net. Along the windowed walls that made up the back of the den, a tiered tower of shelves stood, complete with an overhead lamp. Some of the shelves weren’t attached, still on the floor spread around Garnet’s work area. But Beau didn’t miss the potted plant sitting on the top shelf.

“Okay, so, listen,” Garnet’s voice came through, having stepped into the kitchen to turn off the music. He hurried over, scrambling to explain himself. “Okay, no, don’t freak out. Nothing’s wrong with it. Okay? I’ve just never really had plants, you know? And I know, with how the rotation works, you spend more time elsewhere than you do here. That’s like, what? Five weeks gone compared to one week here. So, I was doing some research, and it’s winter, so I know it’s not getting enough sunlight, so I got a light for it.

“And then I needed something to put the light on, and it looked stupid on the coffee table –and I got to thinking, what if you end up with your own place? You’ll need something for it, right? So, I found this stand, and figured if you ever wanted, you’d have room for more plants.” Garnet stood by it, turning on the light to display. He made a little ‘ta-da’ motion before stepping aside. There was a moment his hands shuffled about awkwardly, fumbling to find he didn’t have pockets and instead hooked them on his hips.

Beau could only stare. Even from where he stood, he could see the flowering plant was already sprouting new growth since the last time he’d been there.

Garnet has been taking care of it.

“Oh, fuck,” Garnet hissed, dodging around the couch as he hurried over. “I’m sorry, Beau. It’s okay. Look, if you don’t like it, that’s fine. I can use it for like… I dunno, something. You don’t have to like it.”

“I like it,” he got himself to say, still staring.

“You’re a shit liar. Okay? I can see those lines on your face. I know you don’t like it.”

“I do like it.” He defended, reaching up to absently feel his cheek. The stress lines were back.

“Seriously, you’re not gonna hurt my feelings or anything. I didn’t even ask your opinion of it. I can take it back—”

Beau acted before he could finish, reaching for the nape of Garnet’s neck to pull him down for their lips to meet. Garnet tensed, exhaling as if he’d been punched in the gut, grabbing at Beau’s sleeve. It was approximately .29 seconds after the fact Beau realized what he’d done. He instantly wanted to collapse in on himself and disappear.

Only Garnet didn’t pull away. His other hand pressed to the side of Beau’s neck, sliding beneath the collar of his racer jacket and further to thread fingertips into his hair. The hand on his sleeve fisted the material, his turn to pull Beau closer. It caused Beau’s processes to kick into overdrive, trying to keep up with all the sensations and define what was happening.

He blinked rapidly when Garnet leaned back, hands staying in place. Beau’s HUD made him aware of the way Garnet’s pupils were dilated, mouth slightly open from his increased rate of breath.

“I like it,” Beau said without thinking, drawing Garnet’s gaze up from his mouth. “I like the plant stand. Please don’t get rid of it.” The hand in his hair loosened as Garnet leaned back, the sensors in Beau’s fingertips documenting the topography of scars, muscle, and bone as his hand slid around the side of his neck and down to Garnet’s chest when he returned to his full height.

Weight was missing from his free hand and he looked down.

“Oh no!” he stepped back, panic surging. The paper bag he’d been carrying was now on the floor, crinkled and abandoned. He quickly reached down to get it, carefully opening the crumpled top, hoping he hadn’t ruined the treats. “Are they okay? I didn’t mean to drop them. I didn’t ruin them, did I?”

“Wh-what?” Garnet blinked as if dazed before catching up to speed. He tilted closer, peering down into the bag when it was offered.

“Are they broken?” Beau scrambled for what he would do if they were. He could call for a delivery order. But what if they didn’t travel this far? Maybe he could take the tram back. But what if they were closed already?

“You got Pączki?” Garnet looked up at him, eyes wide.

“Did I ruin them? I didn’t mean to drop them.” It was a swirl of emotion that pulled heat into his chest, wanting to laugh and cry at the same time. He wasn’t sure which was appropriate and chose to keep both at bay.

“They’re fine. They’re okay.” Garnet chuckled softly, patting his back, “Jeez-o, they’re not like eggs. They’re probably rougher than that at the store.” Beau nodded, passing the bag to him in fear he may end up crushing them. “You, uh, you got these for me?”

“Valetta said you liked them.” As Garnet took the bag Beau noticed the redness starting in his face.

The realization of what they’d done came crashing down.

Beau couldn’t look at him, instead, he crossed the room to the shelving. The top shelf was almost at eye level, pulling his potted plant off the shelf surprised to find one or two of the tiny forget-me-not blooms.

“You shouldn’t be spending money buying me food,” Garnet chuckled nervously.

“And you shouldn’t be spending money buying me furniture,” Beau said without thinking, turning to assess the damage when there wasn’t a response. Garnet laughed, soft and airy, idly rubbing his mouth as he looked down at the bag.

“Fair enough,” he quietly said. And paused, “So, what do you wanna do tonight? It’s supposed to rain later, but we could still go out if you wanted.”

“Can I help you finish putting this together?” Beau cradled the pot to his stomach, schooling how tightly he held it to not crack the ceramic.

“C’mon,” Garnet snickered, turning to place the Pączki on the counter of the bar. “You don’t have to pretend. Alright? Serious talk, do you actually like it?”

“I told you I did!”

“Yeah, but are you just saying that to be nice?”

“I’m saying it because I like it. I’ve never had… things like this before. Things that don’t fit into a bag.” Things that make a home. His vocals couldn’t manage that, having to mute them at the strange whine they made instead. To distract himself, he looked down at the pot, only finding the sight of the flowers and new growth nearly made him cry.

“Okay,” Garnet whispered, close enough now to touch Beau’s shoulder, neck, the side of his face. “Hey, it’s yours. You can do whatever you like with it, I just don’t want you to feel like you have to keep it.”

“I want to keep it,” Beau said defiantly. “Are you not listening or do I need to kiss you again?” It caught Garnet by surprise, bursting with a chuckle.

“I mean, I’m not against it,” he grinned shyly, glancing away. “We’re gonna have to decide on one of those things because I don’t think that’s something I can multitask.” It made Beau smile as well.

“Let’s start with putting this together.” Beau decided to place the pot on the coffee table.

“Start,” Garnet echoed with a laugh. “Okay, you got jokes. But I gotta warn you, the instructions don’t make any sense."