#him eating again is a good sign and hes not vomiting anymore and no signs of diarrhea which is really good

[actualbird]

hi everyone. if you are the type to pray or send good vibes to an internet stranger's cat, i'd appreciate it if you could wish my cat gato well. hes currently confined at the vet hospital for an enlarged spleen and an infection. the vet's been giving me updates and hes not vomiting and his appetite is finally back (after a worrying bout of him refusing to eat). im hopeful that his recovery will be smooth but im still so worried about him that im throwing up out of stress. here he is sleeping all curled up like a shrimp before he got sick and hes so stupid and i love him more than words can describe.

[dooteattheuappetizing]

Fallout TV Fic prompts

Cooper gets Janey home in time, what happens to stop him from leaving with Janey and Barb?

Ever notice Maximus put his legs around Titus when they jumped out of the vertibird?

The Fallout Shelter mobile game version of the Ghoul plays happy families in the vault... So what difference would it have made if they all met differently?

When did Cooper first see and learn that ghouls can and do eat each other?

Maximus: It wasn't so much that the brotherhood were so religious, it was more to do with no one cared enough to teach a 10 year old boy the facts of the world when they were probably gonna send him to his death anyway.

When Hank takes the kids back Moldaver goes after him, not knowing that Shady Sands, Rose included, wasn't going to be there when she came back.

Lucy wasn't enthusiastic about marriage and babies, it was just what was expected.

Dane wasn't nearly as happy to see Maximus when he heard Maximus was planning to leave again. Dane had done his best to make sure Maximus had gotten his spot only to hear that he'd died in the wasteland. And now he wanted to leave again?

Thaddeus, trained to hate "abominations", meets his first ghoul after his own ghoulish nature starts to show.

Stephanie had waited, she'd been *good* and married the incompetent moron that had been her husband. She'd popped out a kid, it was her turn to get what she wanted, damnit. Overseer stephanie enjoys power and her new himbo.

When everything is done and settled, low on supplies, Cooper reluctantly agrees to bring his traveling companions, one tin can and one annoyingly optimistic vaultie, into necropolis. Now if they'd just stop TOUCHING things.

Pre-Fallout TV, Cooper, not yet quite hardened into the ghoul, meets Charon in the wastes.

Barb was given a choice, sign on with vault tech and be guaranteed safety, a future for her and her family, or let her conscience take over and watch them burn when she could have saved them. Wasn't the world worth sacrificing for that? Would janey think so?

Lucy has never tasted alcohol on the surface before.

Cooper had once made a successful life based on his body, his face, and how well he could convince others to buy into fiction. As he watches his own body wither he wonders if anything will be left of him by the time he finds them.

Once it sunk in, Maximus realized Lusy had left him, left with that thing. So why not go all in with the BOS? maximus slowly sees his conscience fail him.

What does dogmeat see and think about our 3 heroes?

No one came to save Lucy. Hank drags her home, leaving Maximus unconcious. What happens when they get back to the vault?

What if Lucy had been hurt when Moldaver escaped... Norm doesn't have a choice but to go himself into the wasteland to find his dad.

Cooper missed Roosevelt, he missed the simple company of that loyal dog and the safety of knowing he had a home, a dog, and a family that were all safe. Nothing was safe anymore. He vomitted the first time he saw people eating dog meat. Then he met "Dogmeat".

Cooper Howard the actor. Corporal Howard. Coop, the face of Vault Tech. Cooper, supportive friend, loving husband and father. The Ghoul, contract killer. 200 years, are all those men still alive inside?

[the-guilty-writer]

Meal Prep

Request from @lubunnii: Not going anon for this one. This is purely self indulgent,

Rossi’s child is underweight (not an ED or anything) and because of their anxiety they don’t really have an appetite.

That’s all I got, you can add more to that if you want.

David Rossi x teen!reader

Summary: Preparation of food is a sign of love in your family, so when your anxiety makes your stomach churn, your dad prepares you something special.

A/N: Thank you for this request! Hopefully it is what you were looking for. My ANS sucks so I understand the loss of appetite thing and sometimes a smoothie is all I can manage to get down so that's the first thing that came to mind.

CW: reader has a hard time eating due to anxiety, reader is underweight, doctors don't take reader seriously, lots of talk about eating and food and feeling sick

---

You didn’t hate food. How could you when you grew up in the Rossi household? A place where meals were made with passion, following recipes that had been passed down for generations which brought people together time and time again. The careful preparation of dishes and gathering to eat together was part of the way your dad expressed love. He’d go to the local grocery stores to pick out the finest ingredients and then spend hours in the kitchen cooking for the two of you, making sure everything was perfetto.

But good god your anxiety was a bitch. The underlying sensation of stress that caused your entire body to shake under the skin and your heart rate to rise also made you sick to your stomach. The nervous churning of your insides and the unsettled nature of your gut made you too nauseous to eat anything. Sometimes you could manage something easy on your stomach- a cup of plain yogurt with some fruit, half a granola bar, or a few bites of lightly buttered pasta if you were lucky- but some days you woke up feeling as thought you might vomit if you even smelled food.

And it really really sucked.

Your doctor had told you that you needed to eat more. Your weight had dropped below what was healthy, but all the M.D. did was write you a prescription for some prozac and send you on your way. You’d go back in a few months just to find out that your body still couldn’t keep on weight and be switched to a different SSRI that wouldn’t do any good in fixing the problem. Any request you made for anti-nausea medication would be denied due to the fact that you “just needed to relax” or “learn to meditate” or some other stupid passive gaslighting excuse a medical professional could come up with.

You laid on your bed, hoping that the nausea would subside soon so you could get something- anything- in your stomach. Despite your lack of appetite all you really wanted right now was to be able to enjoy the extravagant pasta dish your dad was preparing in the kitchen at the moment. The thought of missing out on it made you upset, but the thought of joining in made you want to vomit.

“Polpette! Dinner is ready!” your dad called from downstairs.

Years ago your nickname- meatball- would have made you smile. It was your favorite food when you were a little kid and it still was, but now hearing it just made you sad. Your stomach couldn’t handle the rich, hand-molded, mouth-watering food anymore.

You sighed and got out of bed, exhausted from your constant underlying unease and lack of fuel from being unable to consume more than a few hundred calories at a time. When you reached the kitchen, your dad welcomed you with his warmest smile.

“We have options tonight!” he said. Since Garcia got him into meal prepping, he’d often spend his days off making multiple dishes that could be reheated easily if he was in a rush. David Rossi wouldn’t be caught dead buying take out. “There is simple lasagne, spinach and cheese ravioli, chicken tetrazzini, and your great grandmother’s carbonara!”

The smell of the dishes hit your nose and your face warped as the idea of ingesting anything made you want to gag. You weighed your options.

“I- um.” You felt your face twist even more. “I don’t think-”

You felt panic rise in your chest, your hands shaking and your stomach churning. Tears began to flood your eyes and you shut them tight to keep them from falling.

Rossi was next to you in a second, wrapping you in a fierce hug. “It’s okay.”

“No it’s not, dad,” there was a hitch in your voice. “I want to eat but I feel so sick every time I think about it.”

Rossi placed a kiss on top of your head. “Go sit in the living room. I’ll be there in a minute, okay?”

You nodded and your dad wiped away your tears before you left the kitchen to sit in the living space. You curled up on the sofa, hugging your knees to your chest and leaning your head back against the couch cushions, willing your stomach to settle.

A few minutes later your dad walked into the living room and sat down next to you; he was holding a cup of something with a straw poking out the top. “Here,” he said, holding the straw for you. “Have some of this.”

You slowly sipped from the straw, a not-too-sweet liquid filling your mouth. It was a smoothie- strawberry and blueberry if you had to guess. The ache in your stomach calmed just a little as you swallowed the liquid mixture. Your dad rubbed your back with his free hand and you took another small sip.

“There you go,” Rossi said quietly. You leaned into him and he put the smoothie down on the coffee table to wrap you in a hug. “How are you feeling?”

“A little better,” you said. It was true- your dad knew exactly what you needed at that moment. It wasn’t a heavy dish that he had spent hours preparing, pouring his heart and generations of your family’s cooking techniques into in an effort to make it the most mouth-watering and flavorful meal on the planet; it was some fruit and ice cubes in a blender.

“Good,” Rossi said. He squeezed you gently around the shoulders. “We’re going to figure this out, alright? But until then I’ll do my best to make things easy for you.”

“Okay,” you whispered, thankful for your father’s understanding.

For the next hour, the two of you watched TV, him helping you take small sips of the smoothie between long stretches of time so you didn’t make yourself sick. It wasn’t until you almost finished the drink and he tucked you in bed that he went back to the kitchen to make a pitcher of the mixture in the hopes that you could drink some of it throughout the day tomorrow.

Perhaps it wasn’t the ingredients or the hours that made food special, but the thought and love behind it.

[grigori77]

Critical Role, Season 3 Episode 47

Ashley is a Big Giant Head! ASHLEY'S A BIG GIANT HEAD!!! What the ... oh gods, Sam, stop it ... more Nord VPN insanity ... and now Ashley's accent is failing spectacularly ... XD I'm collapsing. Just like Sam ...

"Search your heart-drive?"

Matt: "A well oiled ... something."

Marisha: "I have no beef with her. I'm sure she's lovely. I do play to beat her ass though."

13 days ... oh boy ... it's picking up pace now ... help ...

I like Ashley this size. She should always dominate the screen far more than all the others. She even dwarfs Matt now.

The Sablecast Grounds. Hmmm ...

And Imogen is still vomiting purple mist. XD

What's a bike?

Ashley makes the first roll of the night ... oh boy ... this never goes well ...

So that was a bust but at least they have a Stealth advantage with the fog ... but Sam's still rolling balls. XD

I'm sorry, deep growling HOOT noises? Are there owlbears in these woods?

EVERY TIME Liam rolls a Perception check, I mean come on! Why do you even ask any more? Orym is SPOOKY observant ...

Pate. Yeah. Send the rat ... wow, this transformation is HORRIBLE ... and he can't chirp, he doesn't have lips. And he flies like shit too ... XD

Uh-oh, fairy lights are never a good sign.

Aaaaaaaand now there's a creepy screeching sound ... oof ... hide, hide ...

Whoa, so the plant life here is unwelcoming go them? That's not a good sign either.

FCG is really just trusting the luck of a coin flip as divine guidance here ... yeah, this'll go GREAT.

Ashton: "I love a turtle race." XD

FCG: "Silly Imogen, it's not how the world works." Fearne: "Yeah, it's not how this flat earth works." Cue much good-natured derision from the group.

Oh ... the towers are set in a ring formation, and the Ruidus projection hangs directly over the centre of it ... that is a pretty leading sign ... oh goody, and now there's a scary big flying thing up there too ...

Ah, so Pate has no "indoor voice" ... hmmm ... "Thread the needle" ...

Dexterity of 14 for the flying rat. That's about right ... and now he's gotten got ... wait ... HE'S DEAD?!!! NOOOOOOO!!!!!

Laudna can get hom back at least. After an hour of casting, but still ...

Ashley doesn't wanna roll survival anymore and I don't blame her. Oh, NICE ONE Sam! And now FCG's getting a big head about his goddess being so good at guiding him ... XD

Again Matt actually ASKS Liam what he rolled on perception ... that's getting so funny to me ... XD

Another group Stealth roll ... Sam: "Thank you Changebringer." XD But yeah, that is a collectively AMAZING group check ...

Fearne speaks Sylvan! Whoa ... Nice one, Ashley!

All right, this is obviously a total Unseelie WILD Hunt kind of situation, right? I mean, they're SURE DRESSED FOR IT.

Hide or go? What to do ... oh no, another stealth check ... argh ... oh shit ... just about everybody rolls sweet but then Taliesin TOTALLY TANKS IT ... oh fuck ...

QUICKSAND!!! GAH!!!

Oh sure. CUT OFF HIS LEG. That'll TOTALLY help ...

And now the ground is EATING ASHTON'S LEG!!! IT'S EATING HIS LEG, PEOPLE!!!

Strength check ... oh boy ... 10? Really? Oh fuck, now he's getting pulled in even more ...

Invisible Chetney tries to use ball bearings as a distraction ... ooh, this could work ... hmm ... Holy fuck, that was BEAUTIFUL how well that worked ...

Dispel Magic don't do shit ... it's a creature! Oh wait! "The Iron Tithe?" OH YEAH!!! Do that! A bag of jacks saves the day. Surreal.

FCG: "Say a quick prayer with me!" Cue blank, unimpressed stares, particularly from Imogen.

The Shivering Keep ... they made it ...

Sam: "It was Liam totally anticipating your grossness." Liam: "Tell us about the Labia Wall, please."

Travis: "A faceless whippet. That's wild."

OF COURSE Fearne just finds this thing adorable ... ah, Laudna gets it ... an Eremad? "You can never hide from the Eremad." Well that's just lovely ...

FCG: "Dogs hate cats and mailmen, so Fearne could be a cat ... mailman ..." Yeah ...

Sam, what the fuck ... the flask is just WEIRD tonight ...

Imogen: "We should have just gotten captured and then we could have just gotten in." Hmmm ...

FCG: "You mean we should be as charming as Josh Gad to beat the evil Eremad?" Oh boy ...

Laura is seriously suggesting they try LOOKING FOR GAPS IN THE WALL like in Labyrinth ...

Oh boy ... puzzles are HARD ...

Sam: "What are you saying, Ashley Johnson?" Ashley: "Oh, I'm just frumfering over here." Sam: "Is this situation making you wanna say Egad?"

Chetney is literally shouting: "Hey! Over here!" and taking off running ... and then changing into a werewolf and saying: "You should come too!"

They're used to werewolves here in the Fey Realm. Oh yeah ...

Invisible Laudna Spiderclimbing with an invisible Orym on her back ... yeah ...

A finished Malleus Key! Not good!

Laura: "Aww, they're so cute!" Travis (chuckling): "Scratching the side of its no-face."

Chetney's attempt at a distraction is hilariously pitiful. Howl ... Imogen: "Oh no, Chet got captured." A different howl. Imogen: "Oh no, Chet got embarrassed."

They're making this so much more complicated than it already is and I love it ...

Six guards on three sides ... Sam: "666 ..." Slow descent into exasperated laughter ...

A ghostly taxman? Okay ...

FCG banishes the guard ... one minute for that ... okay, that's it then. Ticking clock ...

Busted! Oh wait ... Imogen casts Inflict Wounds! That's a ... NO. Hmmm ... ah, Chetney to the rescue! NAT 20!!! Beautiful! AND Fearne uses Hold Person on him TOO!!! Wow ...

Both the guards are now locked in The Hole. That was FANTASTIC.

Sam: "That plan went smoother tha a mattress pad!" Laura (very half-hearted): "Have no fear against ... the Eremad ..."

OTOHAN IS HERE!!! FUCK!!!

This description ... whoa, is this guy like AN ARCHFEY?!!!

Seminar?

Whoa ... oh, Otohan's gone ... well that's not so bad ... oh fuck ... the flying beast ... WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS THING?!!!

Oh yeah, this thing is NIGHTMARE FUEL ...

Oh, SAMMINAR. Okay ...

Laura needs TO GO. Orym: "All right, Imogen, quick, off into the bushes!" Imogen: "Yeah, I know, I'm gonna go in the bushes and take a piss." Sam: "Can you cast Piss Without A Trace?"

Matt takes this as his cue and decides it's time for a break ...

After laying it out for them ... Matt: "What do you want to do?" Laura gives a VERY nervous laugh ... yeah ...

Liam: "Has Imogen finished tinkling yet? I'm asking the DM."

Ah yes. Time for the cloaks. Yes. Do that.

Travis: "No, I don't give a shit about your monkey." Ashley: "No, I know you don't!"

Even Matt doesn't know what Level Fearne is now because of multiclassing ... bad DM, bad ...

Oh yeah, FCG can't breathe so he could go in the Hole indefinitely. FCG: "Cuz I'm not a real person." Imogen: "No, you ARE!" Awwwwww ... but also XD ...

Oh yes, let Ashton smash another Lens. For a GOOD CAUSE this time znd not just being his belligerent self. XD

"Dynamite's probably better than termites." Yeah ...

Floating hamster ... A VERY UNHAPPY floating hamster ... Marisha: "Wait, what if I just popped her in my mouth?" Oh my gods ...

Liam: "If I were to, say, offer to sell you the Brooklyn Bridge, would you be interested?"

Oh, and now they have two suits of creepy Fey armour ...

Awwwwwww ... slow loris ... wait, ARE THEY actually tiny havoc beasts? I thought they were just cute little things ... well, I suppose a Fearne version WOULD be a potentially nasty little shit if it wants to be. XD

Natural 20? DAMN Laudna, you sneaky!

OOOH!!! BATTLEMAP!!! OH MY GOD IT'S INSANE!!! Laura: "Oh my God, it's scarier than I thought!" Yes. Yes it is. Hot DAMN Wizzkids, you got MAD SKILLS!!!

Wow ... that's A LOT of setup ...

How to get inside the machine ... squeezy squeezy ... Laudna is gonna "get real flat" ... yeah, creepy dead womzn contortions for the win, apparently ...

Making my way ...

Fearne scurriness ... here we go ... going in from the ground ... be sneaky, Ashley! Athletics Check ... hmm ... 7? Oof ... shit! Noise! Argh ... OH SHIT!!! Eremad! Gah!

Oh thank gods, that was a MUCH BETTER roll ... phew ... oh dear gods that is HORRIFYING ...

Oh yeah! Is there a crown? Maybe that ... or the Arcane Cores ... hmm ...

The Loud Option. Yes.

Laudna: "Also, Fearne could fuck this up in five seconds, so we should keep that in mind." Matt: "So Fearne, what are you doing?"

Moseying to hunker ...

Magical gillie suit ... FCG: "Imogen, what are you doing?" Imogen: "I'm hiding! Shut up!"

Wait, is Laudna being PULLED INTO THE FUCKING GEARS?!!! AAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!! 16 points of slashing damage? Ouch ...

Orym: "How is it in there?" Laudna: "Yeah, I'm not doing that again."

Laura (laughing): "NO fucking WAY!!!" 28! I agree, Liam is a high-rolling GOD tonight ...

Because he's so teeny tiny Orym DOES NOT get ground up in the machinery. What to do now? Liam rolls a 7. Matt: "You look around and you realise ... you have NO IDEA." Yeah ... Orym's not a tech guy ...

Ah, so they're basically planning on turning this thing into A BOMB?!!! Are they fucking SERIOUS?!!!

Travis doing all the creepy demonic whispering in the background of Laudna's messages is always hilarious ...

Picking a target is HARD right now ...

Don't go deeper, Fearne, this is not ... Natural 1! AAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!!

31 on a lockpick ... whooooooo ... and this is a STUPUD hard look too so Chetney is a sneaky GOD right now ...

PASTA DOUGH?!!! Ashton, WHAT THE FUCK?!!!

Matt: "Okay, you are DOUGHING the locking mechanism."

Oh fuck ... busted ...

Orym lights the wick ... okay HERE WE GO!!! Orym jumps off and ATTACKS at the same time! Whoa, CHAOS!!!

Shield! Phew ... oops, that's quite the alarm call!

STABBY STABBY STABBY!!! Ouch!

Seriously guys just RUN!!!

Lightning Bolt or Witchbolt? WITCHBOLT because she can twin it ... NATURAL 20!!! Laura, that is BEAUTIFUL!!!

"Dogs and cats ... living together ... mass hysteria!"

Pow!

Matt: "So, at this point in time ... I think we need to roll initiative!" Taliesin: "I'm very excited, I wanna fuck some shit up."

Orym gets slash happy while waiting for the explosion ... hmmm ... is that REALLY a good idea?

Boy, these Unseelie choads can't attack for SHIT ...

Crimson Rite on Turmoil ... ooh yeah, Chet!

Laudna Eldritch Blasts the cores! POW!!! Oh, TWO MORE!!! Crack those eggs, girl! DOUBLE POW!

FCG: "I'm stuck in the grass! My own name's coming back to haunt me!"

Spiritual Weapon ... something that machinery hates ... a cup of coffee that's gonna spill! XD Splash! Now it's all sticky! XD XD

Ooooh ... this thing is getting REALLY unstable now!

Laura's trying to do dice maths and having a tiny crisis!

"How long is this fuse?" Matt: "Well it's been about 12 seconds ..."

Holy shit, Fearne! Did she just burn down this bitch all on her own? 5D8 of Fire damage? Ooof!

Matt sends us through a crazy sound effects journey ... EVERYBODY within 20 feet us in DEEP SHIT now! FCG: "Fearne, what are you doing to us?!"

BOTH the Unseelie guys are SPLATTERED.

Holy fuck, HALF OF THE BAD GUYS are annihilated!

NOW the dynamite goes off. In a VERY anticlimactic way ...

Everything is ON FIRE now. Whoa ... Ruidus is GONE from the sky! They know something's up now! Fuck, that flying thing is COMING NOW!!!

Void Jaws?!

Fuck, Imogen's arm is INSIDE THIS THING'S empty head! Oof ... she gets it out but it's A MESS now ...

Orym flanks to protect her ... whoa, she has TWO EXTRA POINTS to her AC now because of it!

SHATTER on the dog thing? Hooo ... it fails to save ... 21 points of Thunder Damage! POW! Fuck, Chetney ANNIHILATED that fucker!

Sam: "I'm a healer!" Marisha: "You're also 300 YARDS AWAY!!!"

Ashton swings for the beasty's junk ... 19 points of damage! And another ... yeah, that just DESTROYS it. He doesn't so much swing into it as RIGHT THROUGH IT!!!

Ashton: "I'll just say for my bonus action RUN THE FUCK AWAY!!!"

Laura: "Sre we still Sympathetically Bonded?" Sam: "Yeah, but I'm so far away I can't do anything."

FCG's right, you guys need to just GET OUT OF THERE!!!

Oh shit ... that thing is HERE!!! What even IS IT?!!! Wait ... it burn its whole turn just ARRIVING?!!! A brief reprieve!

Everybody is just BOOKING IT as fast as they can! Fuck, Ashton is MOVING right now!

They're all clumped together ... FCG could just Mass Heal right now ... YES!!! And now he's just gonna SHOOT AT the freaky dragon thing? From HERE?!!!

Are you kidding me, Sam? OF COURSE that thing flies! That's the whole point!

Laura: "Um ... I'm gonna cast ..." Liam: "Hem and haw." Laura: "Shut up."

Gloamglut ... and Sorrowlord Zathuda? Yeesh ...

Oh boy ... this thing is scary ... oh shit ... WHAT A NOISE!!! YEESH!!! Dark Fire Gaze? What?

Fuck ... Fearne is OUT!!! FCG takes half the damage ... oh fuck, she's STILL UP after all, but BARELY!!! Thank you, Letters!

These guys can't shoot for shit ... aside from a graze on Orym they don't hit ANYTHING.

RUN FOR IT!!!

Everybody but Fearne and Laudna can make it yo the gate in this turn ... wait ... oh fuck, Ashton your Gravity trickery has SAVED THE FUCKING DAY!!! YEEEEEESSSSS!!!

Oh no, the dragon ... FCG throws a Shield up for Fearne ... Orym uses Seedling to grab Laudna ... oh PLEASE let this work ...

Silvery Barbs ... IT DOESN'T HIT?!!! Yeah ...

Second hit ... 25 POINTS OF DAMAGE?!!! She's out! No! Get her out of there!

They break for the treeline and HIDE!!!

Matt: "And that's where we're gonna call it a night!"

GAH!!! Cliffhanger! Fearne ... is she all right? Is she gone? Is it Thursday yet? AAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!!

[ao3feed-erasermic]

Delinquent

Use the related link post to read Delinquent on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/61318984 by AcousticallyVibratedFrog “I am so fucked.” He wheezes before his laughter turns into uncontrollable giggling. He hardly notices as tears start flowing down his face, dripping onto the floor. He can’t see her face anymore, but when she speaks again her voice is considerably softer. “Not necessarily.” He brings his head up again to lift an eyebrow at her, still laughing lowly. “Have you seen my record?” He asks, gesturing to himself, in between laughs. “I am completely fucked, sensei.” She nods, smile still softened. “I have, and I stand by my statement.” or Shinso has been dealt a pretty shit hand in life, but gets a second chance in the form of a rehabilitation program specifically for children like him. Children registered as having 'Dangerous Quirks'. or Yamada and Shota agreed to get there foster licenses and be put into the system of Tsukauchi's rehabilitation program as available foster parents, but when they get their first call they question whether they're actually ready to bring a child into their lives, especially one with a history like Shinso's. But they're not about to give up before they've even tried. Still, it's going to be quite a bumpy road to go down, but they'll get through it together. Words: 12346, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia (Anime & Manga) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: F/M, M/M, Multi Characters: Shinsou Hitoshi, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead, Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic, Bakugou Katsuki, Kaminari Denki, Tsukauchi Naomasa Relationships: Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead/Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead & Shinsou Hitoshi, Shinsou Hitoshi & Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic, Bakugou Katsuki & Shinsou Hitoshi, Kaminari Denki & Shinsou Hitoshi, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead & Tsukauchi Naomasa, Shinsou Hitoshi & Tsukauchi Naomasa, Tsukauchi Naomasa & Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic Additional Tags: Original Character(s), Minor Original Character(s), Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Headaches & Migraines, Emetophobia, Parental Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead | Dadzawa, Parental Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic, Shinsou Hitoshi is in Class 1-A, Adopted Shinsou Hitoshi, Shinsou Hitoshi Needs a Hug, Shinsou Hitoshi-centric, Insomniac Shinsou Hitoshi, Shinsou Hitoshi is Bad at Feelings, Shinsou Hitoshi is a Good Friend, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead and Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic Adopt Shinsou Hitoshi, Shinsou Hitoshi is a Little Shit, Shinsou Hitoshi is in the Bakusquad, Shinsou Hitoshi Being an Asshole, Shinsou Hitoshi is a Mess, Vomiting, Bullying, Beta Read, Recovery, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Autism, Autistic Shinsou Hitoshi, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred, Panic Attacks, Sign Language, Deaf Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic, Hard of Hearing Bakugou Katsuki, Supportive Bakusquad (My Hero Academia), Insomniac Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead, Nightmares, Internalized Homophobia, Homophobia, Touch-Starved, Bakugou Katsuki is Bad at Feelings, Bakugou Katsuki is a Good Friend, Jirou Kyouka is in the Bakusquad, Quirk Overuse (My Hero Academia), Ableism, #dnd as a coping mechanism, Therapy, Near Death Experiences, Fear of Death Use the related link post to read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/61318984

[darkleysgarden]

Imperfect

Written November 16th

Warnings: Eating disorder (anorexia nervosa), depression, vomiting, use of the f-word multiple times (mature rating)

Type: Hurt/Comfort | Angst

Ship: Solodeus

Words: 2399

Summary: Asmo has an eating disorder which sometimes claims him full force. Solomon is there to make sure he gets the love and support he needs.

In the mornings Solomon always loved to get as much extra cuddle time in as possible. But, sadly, both of them were pretty busy people.

Solomon sighed as he sat up. He rubbed his eyes, stretching his tight limbs. He leaned down and kissed a sleeping Asmo's forehead.

Part of him wanted to flop back down into bed, yet he couldn't. Duty calls.

There was a disbalance of an ancient runes in the Human Realm. And whenever there are disbalances of magic in the Human Realm, weird things begin to happen. So, of course, as the most powerful sorcerer, it was his job to fix this.

He worked through his morning routine. He took a shower, got dressed, did his hair. He went to the kitchen to make himself breakfast. As he cooked, he slowly got confused. Usually Asmo would come out and hug him from behind, watching him cook the food he always refused. Yet, he didn't.

Solomon finished the meal, setting it on the table to eat. The house was oddly quiet. Even if Asmo didn't come out, he'd probably just shower and do his extensive skin care routine, but nothing.

He rinsed his plate off, digressing from the routine. Real quick, he went to check on Asmodeus.

As he stepped into their room, he noticed that Asmo was still laying in bed. Though, he wasn't sleeping anymore.

He stared at the wall, eyes glossed over. His cheek was dragged against the pillow, mouth slightly open.

Solomon frowned at the sight, approaching his boyfriend. He crouched down to face level. Asmo looked up at him, making eye contact before quickly diverting his eyes.

"Are you feeling alright," He asked, worry heavy in his tone.

Asmo closed his mouth, forming a small frown. His eyebrows pinched together as he shook his head.

With a sad sigh, he leaned in and kissed Asmo's cheek, "Are you feeling sick? Or just upset?"

A weak shrug came from Asmo. That wasn't a good sign. What could be plaguing him? Is it something that is upsetting him so much that he feels sick? Does he just feel gross? Does he really not know what is causing it?

"You're busy," Asmo's weak, vulnerable voice spoke, "I'll be okay."

The strawberry blonde put on a painfully fake smile that made his heart sink at the sight, "I don't have to leave if you need something. There is always another solution! More than one option! Somebody can stand in fo-"

"Sol," He spoke again, voice cracking, "It's fine. The world needs you."

"You are my world," He shouted without thinking. It came out cheesier than he anticipated. Though, he hardly anticipated anything, speaking without a thought. Yet, it was true.

Asmo was blushing slightly at the confession, "Go."

He frowned again, thoughts conflicting. Should he leave Asmo alone? This was rather important. Both things were.

Sure, he'd be back sooner than later.....

But, is it soon enough? He bit his lip, not sure what to do.

"Dear, it's okay, just go," He smiled softly at the term of endearment.

"Fine, I'll go," He ultimately decided, "I'll be back soon! Then you will be admitting what's wrong."

Asmo continued to lay there. He was usually up and ready to do so much. He makes smoothies for breakfast, showers, does hair and makeup for hours, not to mention morning jogs or videos. He does blog or do get ready with me's often.

Yet, today there is nothing. He lays there, sad and vulnerable. Solomon's heart aches for him. It will have to wait.

Quickly but carefully he'll finish his mission and return back to Asmo.

○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○

The door shut behind Solomon with a loud thud.

The house was silent.

His mind wasn't very silent, however.

Asmo needed Solomon to leave. He needed to check. It was important.

He doesn't want to get up.

The bed sucks him in, enveloping him in it's warmth and comfort. All is silent, all is forgiving.

If he stayed in bed, he wouldn't have to face the day, wouldn't need to face himself, wouldn't need to know.

He has to get up.

It's been too long since he last checked. He thought he was recovering. He was wrong.

The scale and measuring tapes were so familiar to him. He'd cut them off. They wanted revenge.

He couldn't have gained weight, could he?

Either way, he'd stuck to the same diet. He even continued to jog, run, and work out, even if his vision became dotted and he had to vomit. He had to stay fit, so he continued to exercise.

They say that proper exercise needs to be paired with a proper diet. His diet works for him. It keeps him at the same weight, keeps his waist the same size.

He'd splurged recently, though. He ate bigger meals, exercised less.

He pushed the blanket off of himself, body shaking. He sat up, staring down at his body. There were no rolls, he had a thigh gap, he had what most would consider to be the perfect body.

So, why didn't he love it?

It wasn't good enough, not perfect enough. He's heard media, he's read his comments. He's still too fat. He has to lose more weight. Nobody would want to fuck him if he was fat and ugly.

He's supposed to be fawned over, not avoided.

Imagine what Solomon would think! He wouldn't be able to handle it! Asmo wasn't as skinny anymore, he was sure of it! Solomon will be disgusted once he notices. He wasn't the same size as when they'd started dating.

He stepped over to his vanity, hands shaking as he pulled open the drawer. He pulled out a tiny tape measure.

Asmo pulled off the thin tanktop he was wearing, discarding it onto the end of their bed.

His hands shook, he bit his lip, holding his breath as he wrapped the cold tape around his waist.

His eyes were squeezed shut in forced suspense. He didn't want to look.

Slowly, he opened one of his eyes, the other following suit. His eyes trailed down his torso until he reached the offending area.

No...

He was right...

His waist had grown two millimeters.

He shrieked, dropping the measure onto the floor.

That's nothing. It's okay. You're overreacting. A millimeter is only a dimes thickness! You'll be fine.

It's so much. It's too much.

No one will even notice.

Everyone will notice.

He accidentally catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror.

He looked horrible.

His eyes had significant bags under them, his skin was dry, his freckles were showing, not hidden by any makeup.

If his fans saw him right now, they'd be disappointed. This is not the Asmo they know and love. It's a fake. It's an insecure shell of a man. He's a fool.

He's overcome with a wave of naesua.

Everything he's eaten in the past twenty-four hours needs to be gone. He rushes ro the bathroom, collapsing onto the floor, letting his guts out into the toilet. The sound was horrible. The retching, the gasps, the sloshing and ripping of liquid.

He whimpered, tears dripping down his face. Had the tears only just started, or had they been here all along?

He retched, trying to expell liquids that did not exist.

Desperately, he shoved his fingers into his mouth, attempting to stimulate the gag reflex that he had gotten rid of a long time ago. Lucky for him, he did get it to work.

He continued to reach and gasp, stomach acids coming out, making his throat burn.

His whole body was on fire. He was sweating. He felt disgusting. He felt clammy.

He touched the back of his hand to his forehead, frowning at the feeling.

Worst of all, he felt incredibly exhausted. And maybe that's how his head lolled. That's how he fell asleep, face slick against the toilet seat.

○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○

Solomon had been worrying about Asmo the entire time. It lasted way longer than it should have. But, at least he's finally home.

He rushed to the bedroom, finding an empty bed in response.

His confusion didn't last long, as he noticed that the bathroom light was on.

The door was open, which was common for Asmo, especially if home alone.

He planned to only glance, see him in there, and then wait in the room for him. But, Asmo wasn't using the bathroom.

Asmo was laying in a crumpled pile on the tile. He had possibly fallen asleep with his head on the toilet seat, then having his body relax enough to slide off.

In the toilet sat too much vomit. It made Solomon want to throw up for Asmo. He was suffering, clearly. That made him impossibly sad.

He scopped his boyfriend up, carrying him to their bed, laying him down in his spot. Since he showed no sign of fever, but was still hot, he kept the blanket off.

Then, he returned back to the bathroom, flushing the toilet and turning out the lights.

Solomon sat on the bed, pulling Asmo onto his lap, stroking his hands through his hair.

Apparently, Asmo wasn't in a deep sleep, as he began to stir. The stirring didn't last, he woke up quickly.

As he awoke, he sat up, looking at Solomon. He then flopped back against his chest with a small 'humph'.

"Do you have some sort of cold or flu?" Solomon questioned, Asmo weakly shook his head.

Solomon thought for a moment, "So it's mental?"

There was no speech or movement for a solid few seconds, but then he did nod.

"Talk to me," He encouraged, "I'm here for you."

Luckily, Asmo did reply, "My waist grew two millimeters."

The urge to say 'So?' was his first impulse. Then was confusion. Why did that matter? He's still beautiful as ever! Solomon never would have noticed such a change. Could anyone else even notice?

"Okay," He said, "I don't mind at all. I would have never noticed myself, if that makes you feel any better."

"How could you not notice?" Asmo replied, "It's so obvious! Next thing you know I'm going to be fat and ugly and everyone will hate me! I have to be perfect! Nobody will love me if I'm not!"

"I love you!" Solomon exclaimed, "I couldn't care less about your weight or appearance! I just want you to be happy! But, if that happiness comes at the expense of your health, I'll need to stop it. You're important to me! Don't forget that!"

"You're lying," Asmo whispered, voice sad as ever, "I am only Mr appearance."

"That's not even true!" Solomon was upset, upset that Asmo couldn't see that he was perfect no matter what, "If I gained a little bit of weight, would you hate me!"

"Of course not!" Asmo raised his voice in emotion, "You're still you either way! I could never hate you for that! You're looks are only a plus, and those looks wouldn't be ruined by any extra fat!"

"Then why can't you apply that to yourself?" He asked, sadness overcoming him.

"Because that doesn't apply to me!" Asmo screamed, tears running down his face, "That doesn't apply to me and it never has!"

Solomon felt tears run down his own cheeks.

Asmo continued, "I was created for my looks! I was never meant to have a personality! I was an attention-graber! Nothing more! That's what Father created me for, after all! And after I fell here it only became worse!"

Asmo was sobbing, voice cracking with emotion, "I went from the Jewel of the Heavens to the Avatar of fucking lust. Nobody cared what I thought, nobody cares now! All they wanted was to fuck me! 'Who wants a taste of the fucking whore!' 'He's a slut! He'll do whatever you want him to!' 'He's still up for more rounds! How disgusting!'"

He took a sharp intake of breath, coughing on it. They were both standing now, had been for awhile. Solomon took a step towards him, Asmo stepped away, "Every single day I am flooded with comments telling me that I am not good enough! People say that I'm not even attractive! They say that people only like me because I'm easy! Nobody cares about my personality! They just want me in bed! Past partners flaunted me around, bragging about how attractive I was! They never bragged about how kind I was, all the extra things I did for them, the cute little things I do that are unique to me, no! It was always, 'Look who I get to fuck!'"

"I care about your personality!" Solomon broke through, "You do so many adorable things that you probably don't even realize. You're the kindest person I've ever met! Not to mention the fact that you always sacrifice yourself for others. You manage to always cheer me or your brother's up! You love resplendent quetzals! A type of bird that most people don't even know of. You've always been a dog person, particularly bigger dogs, but they have never been your go to animal. You'd live to own a bunny, though. You have all these cute little details that make you, you, that I've always loved!"

Asmo stays silent, Solomon has more, "You whisper your thoughts under your breath, you get this little disgusted look whenever you see a bad outfit put in public, your eyes light up when you see a new store you'd love to go to, you really like heavy met, yet don't tell anybody, you nod your head along to little rhythms in your head during class, and more! There are so many good things about you Asmo! If anybody else takes that for granted, then they're the dumb ones!"

Asmo stepped forward, laying his head against Solomon's chest, "Thank you."

Solomon smiled, petting his hair, "Always."

Asmo wrapped his arms around Solomon, "I love you."

"I love you too," Solomon returned the hug.

He rocked them back and forth, humming a small tune. When Asmo began to relax in his arms, he laid down, laying Asmo against his chest.

Cuddled together, Asmo fell asleep.

He looked so adorable when he slept. If only he knew that. If only he knew that he was perfect, even as he lets out drool and soft snores.

There were no requirements necessary. Asmo is perfect.

No matter what.

[sparklingyandere]

For Better or Worse (part 3)

Summary: yan scaramouche x reader. final part. After several months of avoiding scara's rage, pressure builds and reader snaps. It has expected effects.

word count: 1609

warnings: violence, blood, marking, physical and emotional abuse, advanced yan behavior, mention of vomit, fem reader

Your husband is returning today.

He’s coming back from his first long-term mission since the early days of your marriage. You wait in the entrance hall to welcome him. The handle turns and your husband enters, his air of authority as present as ever.

“Welcome home, my lord,” you say.

“Ah, yes,” He acknowledges you half-heartedly and shrugs off his overcoat and gaudy hat, hanging them on a nearby coat rack, “dismissed,” he says.

He doesn’t have to tell you twice. All you had to do was greet him, then you could go back to doing your own thing until dinner. He walks off towards his study and you retire to the bedroom to read for a few hours.

Eventually, a knock comes at the door, and your handmaiden informs you it’s time for dinner. You head to the dining hall where Kunikuzushi sat at the end of the dining table, waiting for you.

Kunikuzushi. After you, as he calls it, “came to your senses,” your husband rewards your compliance with the knowledge of his real name. With an audience, you were required to address him only as ‘my lord,’ if you must address him at all. In private, however, he expects you to call him by his true name. He claims it’s an honor for you, but you think he just likes to hear you say it.

You sit opposite to him, a plate already made for you. Politely, you wait for him to start before you eat, just as you were trained. You open your mouth to ask him about his mission, but before you can speak he cuts you off and emphatically begins describing what he did during his expedition. You tune him out pretty quickly, as you only asked because you were expected to. For a while you just enjoy your meal while he talks, but when he seems satisfied with his recounting of events, you speak.

“My lord,” you wait for his acknowledgement to continue, “I was wondering when we could visit my hometown again,” you ask.

For your birthday, he had taken you on a supervised visit to your parents. He was present the whole time, scrutinizing your behavior, so you had no choice but to make up a lie that your marriage is happy and successful, and that you never visit because you’re busy, definitely not because you’re a prisoner in your own home.

He pauses from eating to think. “That decrepit village? Why would you want to go back so soon?”

You tense at him insulting your home, but you know to hold your tongue. “It was many months ago, my lord.”

“I just got home, and you’re already going on about seeing your parents. Let’s talk about something else,” he says dismissively.

“But, my lord, it’s different this time,” you push.

He seems irritated that you didn’t immediately drop the subject, eyes narrowing. “And? You know I loathe going to that ghost town.”

You don’t normally test his nerves like this, but you have good cause. “They haven’t responded to any of my letters lately, I’m getting worried,” you pleaded to him.

He groans in frustration. “Maybe they just don’t love you anymore. Get over it,” he says, going back to his meal.

Offended, you gape at him. “What is wrong with you? Why would you say that?” You regret the outburst almost instantly, but you just couldn’t help it.

“Me? What’s wrong with you? I saved you from that destitute shithole, and all you talk about is wanting to go back. You’re so ungrateful,” he scolds you, the irritation radiating off of him. The tension between you is dangerously thick, but you’re too enraged to turn back now.

“Grateful? To you?” You seethe, completely too far gone to think rationally, “My village was doing just fine. You came and ruined everything.” Some nearby servants and guards give each other nervous side eye, a very bad sign, but you don’t care.

His expression turns smug. “If your village was doing fine, why were they so eager to sell you off to me? Oh, that’s right. They just wanted an excuse to get rid of you. Now drop it,” he mocks.

You’re absolutely fuming now, fully consumed by your fury. Deep down, you know this is a bad idea. That you’re just asking for trouble. That this can only end badly. But you grab your wine glass anyways. Unable to listen to him talk so lowly of your home, of your family, you lose all reasonable judgment and hurl the glass straight at him.

Time seems to move in slow motion for a moment. The glass hits his chest, red wine staining his clothes. It bounces off of him and hits the ground, shattering into tiny pieces. Regret and fear flood your mind instantly. Kunikuzushi is frozen in shock, looking down at the cold wine that covers his torso and drenches his food. He gets over his shock and stands abruptly.

He glares at you with a familiar rage, one that you had hoped to never see again. He turns his gaze to a nearby guard and makes a vague gesture with his hand.

Two men harshly grab your arms and walk you out of the room. Once out of Kunikuzushi’s line of sight, they relax their grip and guide you to your bedroom more gently. You don’t blame them for being rough in front of Kunikuzushi, they’re under his thumb just as much as you are, and you appreciate the unspoken kindness.

The external lock in your bedroom turns the minute it closes behind you. You sit down on the bed and wait anxiously for the punishment you know is coming.

When he enters a few minutes later, your lungs seem to shrink and your breathing shallows. He’s still wearing the wine-stained outfit, and he’s holding a wine glass of his own. He sets the glass on a dresser and stands in the middle of the room.

“Well?” he asks expectantly.

He’s waiting for you to apologize, to beg for forgiveness. It’s humiliating, but you slink off the bed and get on your knees in front of him.

“Kuni, I… I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me. Please forgive me,” you don’t bother hiding the fearful shakiness in your voice.

“Hmm. Apology not accepted.”

Dread fills you, but before you can react his hand collides sharply with your cheek with enough force to make you dizzy.

“You disgraced me. You’re lucky it was only in front of the servants,” he says. You open your mouth to defend yourself, but he isn’t having any of it and kicks you straight in the stomach. You lurch backwards and roll onto your side, holding in the urge to puke. It had been a while since he kicked you like that. “Parents this, village that. It’s so fucking annoying.”

You start to cry. He huffs in irritation and weaves his hand into your hair, pulling you up into a sitting position. Kneeling in front of you, he reaches into the folds of his clothes and pulls out a pocket knife, “Let’s see if your parents will want you now.”

You immediately panic and beg him to stop, he just shushes you and holds your head steady. For a moment, you’re sure that you’ve pushed his last button, and that this is the end. But he lines up his blade against your cheek and cuts a straight gash between your ear and nose. He lets go of your hair and you sob, holding your bleeding face. It’s not particularly deep, but it’s sure to leave a nasty scar. Across all your other punishments, he was always careful to never leave any permanent marks.

“Now no matter where you go, or how far away from me you run, you’ll never forget who you belong to. You’ll never truly be free,” he says. You cry harder at his words. He retrieves the wine glass from the dresser and walks back over to you. He holds it over you and pours its contents directly onto your head, drenching your hair and clothes. The alcohol burns the wound on your face. “There. Now we match,” He smiles cruelly.

He just stands for a moment and watches you shake as sobs rack your body. He sighs. After he’s gotten his fill, he lowers himself to sit down on the floor beside you and puts an arm around your shoulder. You flinch and whimper, but he doesn’t make any move to hurt you. You’re wet and sticky all over from the blood and the wine, though he doesn't seem to mind as he pulls you onto his lap. He gently rubs your back in a gesture that’s supposed to be comforting. In a sick way, it works.

“I know it hurts, but it’s for your own good,” he coos, “I’m the only one you need now. Do you understand that?” His words hurt, but his tone is gentle and comforting. If you had any sense left you’d notice what he was doing, but in your humiliated and frightened state you need all the comfort you can get. You nod and rest your head on his shoulder, staining his shirt further with blood.

For a moment, you let yourself cry into his shoulder. You let yourself enjoy the comforting movement of his hand on your back. It’s peaceful, in a sad kind of way, but it’s the best you’ve got.

“No more talk of that village, okay?” His tone is still gentle, but there’s a hidden threat in his voice. You nod. He hums. “Good. Let’s go get cleaned up.”

[flareish]

Anxiety

kuroo x reader

summary: you hide your anxiety from basically everyone including your boyfriend, until he finds out for himself

genre: hurt/comfort

warnings: Emetophobia Warning! description of nausea/vomit, anxiety, bit of angst but ends in fluff

word count: 2.0k

a/n: I tried to make this as close to my anxiety since I hadn’t known anyone with my kind of anxiety(symptom wise) until I was seventeen, which was a good ways into when I realized I had anxiety. So here is some nausea anxiety representation!

masterlist

You tap your fingers in a mindless rhythm. Alternating the fingers and repeating them back and forth, trying to make it a game, a challenge. You did this over and over again to distract yourself from that all too familiar sinking feeling. That feeling like your stomach has managed to twist and knot itself a million times. Each bump of the bus made acid crawl up your throat. You crunched a mint in your mouth hoping the peppermint would soothe some of the nausea. It didn’t, but the thought was there. You just will yourself not to throw up on the bus, anything but that. The thought in itself makes you even more nervous, and in turn even sicker.

You don’t even know why you are anxious. Today is Kuroo’s big game, but it isn’t yours. You’ve been to a hundred of his games before but never before did you feel like this. Normally you get cute little butterflies, not an angry swarm of bees. The worst part is, there is Kuroo sat next to you happy as can be, completely oblivious. He keeps trying to drag you into conversations but you fear if you open your mouth for too long, all that will come up is vomit. So you keep your mouth firmly closed only smiling tightly or shaking your head at his prompts.

It's not exactly his fault though. He doesn’t actually know you have anxiety. It’s not something you really like to talk about. You are all for promoting the acceptance of mental health but you just find every time you tell someone the dynamic changes. Either they flat out don’t believe you since you “don’t seem like the type with anxiety”. Well duh, I don’t have social anxiety, I have situational anxiety. Like here in this situation. That or they suddenly treat me like I am incapable of handling myself. That whenever a slightly stressful event comes up, I am going to melt into a puddle of pure anxiety. Sorry but I’ve made it this far, I may have to throw up a few times on the way but I am still making it. 

So you just haven’t told Kuroo. You're just nervous that it will change the dynamic. You also don’t want to steal his spotlight. Today is supposed to be all about him. It's his big game. To suddenly speak up and tell him that his game is giving you anxiety would be selfish. So like you always have, you put a brave face on and face it head-on.

“Hey, are you okay?” Kuroo asks you, now facing you, “You look a little pale.”

“Hmm?,” You also turn to look at him, “Oh I am just a bit tired that’s all. I will be fine in an hour or so.” You hope at least. He nods relieved it's not something worse. 

You finally pull into the stadium and everyone is pushing their way off the bus. Luckily Kuroo is right by you to make sure you don't get accidentally pushed down the bus stairs and trampled. The team makes it’s to the bulletin board where they are given their matchups. Nekoma is paired with a pretty hard team. Suddenly, out of nowhere, you dry heave. You knew at the point you were going to throw up and within the next few minutes. 

“Hey I think I left something in the bus I’ll be right back.” You say to Kuroo before dashing off. He goes to reply but you are already gone. 

You make it around the back of the building before you throw up. At this point you’re kinda out of it, your mind is occupied on emptying your already empty stomach. Then you feel someone pull your hair back and gently rub your back. You don’t even have to look up to know it’s Kuroo. When you finish he hands you his water bottle.  You waterfall it and rinse your mouth out of that acidic taste. 

“What’s going on are you okay?” Kuroo asks full of concern. You hesitate for a moment, thinking of telling the truth. Then you remember this is supposed to be his day. 

“Sorry I must have caught a stomach bug.” He doesn’t completely buy it so you quickly add to it.

“I didn't feel great on the bus but I just thought it was because I was tired.” You feel bad lying, “I also don’t want to distract you before your game.” At that Kuroo quickly pulls you into a hug, “Your not a distraction, I just want to make sure you’re okay.” Your cheek is pressed against his chest and your hands grip the front of his shirt. 

“We should probably head back.” You mumble.

“Yeah.” He leans down to kiss you but you duck away. He looks incredibly offended and hurt at this.

“Dude I just threw up I don’t know if you want to do that.” 

“…Point.”

The two of you head back inside to the team, you feeling much better after throwing up. Before you know it, the competition has begun and Nekoma has won. You run down and celebrate with the team and it’s a happy day.

On the bus ride home Kuroo has a strange energy about him. Not like he’s mad more just like he’s just realized something. You nudge him and smile hoping to break him out of his little funk. He immediately smiles back and goes back to celebrating with the team. His reaction was almost like putting a mask on. You watch him for a moment before slipping into a conversation of your own.

When you make it back to school you go your separate ways. Him going to shower, and you to get home before it gets too late. A big hug before pushing away. You still refusing to kiss him after throwing up earlier in the day. 

You are laying on your bed, exhausted. Anxiety really takes a toll on your energy. Your thoughts are broken when your phone chimes with a text.  Leaning over to grab your phone off your bedside table you see it is from Kuroo. 

“Can you come over? I want to talk.”

No cute pet names. No slowly easing into it. Actually using proper grammar. Nothing in that message was a good sign. Just “I want to talk” was enough to make the acid begin to crawl again. You knew it had to be about today. Especially after you saw him zoning out on the bus. It had to be your anxiety episode. You knew he wouldn’t be happy you lied but going to this extent. Like he just found out you have anxiety and this is what he hits you with? The world’s most nerve-wracking text message. The only worse place than this would be “we need to talk”. That’s when you have really screwed up. So maybe you’ve only minorly screwed up since he said want not need. Does that mean you have the choice to say no? That was kind of tempting but you knew you would be tossing and turning all night thinking about what might be wrong. 

“Okay.” You reply to the text. Short and sweet. Putting on some shoes and grabbing a hoodie, you quietly slip out of your house. Kuroo’s house wasn’t too far but it was far enough. Enough to continue to stir in your intrusive and unstoppable thoughts. You eventually make it to his house and head in going straight for his room. Before you reach the door you hesitate and gather yourself. Preparing for whatever was about to come. 

When you go in you find Kuroo sat on the floor of his bedroom, back pressed against the bed. He jerkily looks up and you and gives you a tight smile. None of this is giving good signs. Something is very heavy on his mind. You sit down across from him, your back against the wall your feet almost touching. 

“So what was it you wanting to talk about.” You break the silence. He doesn’t respond for a moment. Just as you are about to try again he speaks up.

“Do you still love me?” Your face drops into confusion.

“Why wouldn’t I love you anymore?” You ask, suddenly realizing this wasn’t the conversation you were prepping yourself for. 

“You’ve been distant lately. You don’t tell me things like when you don’t feel good. I thought about it when I got home and I was wondering if you weren’t actually sick but just making the excuse because you got caught.” He’s very serious at the moment and his words hold a cold edge. 

“What do you mean get caught?” You match his tone. You weren’t planning on fighting but something about how he said it just set something off in you.

“You didn’t want to be there. Ever since this morning you were quiet and reserved. Even after the game, you wouldn’t even kiss me-”

“Yeah, cause I threw up! And how could I be faking it when I literally threw up.” You snap.

“You’ve been like this before though! Like last year’s big tournament you would barely talk to me.”

“That’s not true!” Although it kind of was just not the reason he thought.

“Oh yeah? What about at training camp you wouldn’t talk to me then either, you didn’t even eat with us you just sat on your own.” He threw back.

“Yeah, cause I have anxiety!” The words left your mouth before you knew it. Kuroo looked taken back.

“What?” His brow furrows, “Since when?” He’s not sure what to believe. You’re not surprised since you have worked very hard to hide it from everyone, accidentally sabotaging your own relationship without even knowing it. 

“Since forever. I just never told anyone.” You quietly say, ducking your head down.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” You didn’t even need to look up to see the hurt on his face, it was apparent in his voice. You start playing with your finger, tapping them in rhythms.

“I wanted to,” You mumble, “But whenever I do stuff changes and I didn’t want anything to change.” He shifts forward and you think he’s going to leave. Instead, he grabs your hands, stopping the pattern you had going. You look up.

“Did you think I would judge you?” He was staring straight into you, willing the truth to come out.

“Whenever I tell people they either don’t believe me and brush it off or treat me like I’m incapable of handling any amount of stress. I’ve never seen anyone react any differently so I was scared you would fall into one of those reactions and I didn’t know how I could handle that. I didn’t want my anxiety to be the thing to tear us apart. But I guess it still was.” By the end of your speech, your gaze has returned back to the floor, unable to hold eye contact for that long with him staring at you so strongly. You hear him sigh then you are pulled forward and into his arms. 

“I want to be your pillar of support. I want to be that third reaction that is one of acceptance, one that doesn’t drive you crazy.” He strokes your hair soothingly, his words making you tear up, “When you are ready I want you to tell me everything. From when you first noticed it, to where it is now, to how you deal with it, everything.” By now you are fully crying, absolutely collapsed into his chest. “I love you so much.” It gets muffled in his shirt but he hears it.

“I know, and I love you.”

It would take some time for Kuroo to get used to this change but slowly but surely he will be different from the rest and he will support you no matter what. Although he also respects your strength and knows you can handle your anxiety on your own, he is always there when you need it. He becomes the third unexpected and unheard-of reaction; acceptance.

[agirlwhoisaphantom]

Turning Page- Bucky Barnes x Reader

Turning Page- Bucky Barnes x Reader

a/n: This is a 3 part one shot. I wanted all parts to have their moment since there is going to be a bunch of fluff in them. Especially because they all take place at different times. This first part will be when you find out you are pregnant and you tell Bucky about it.

Words Count: 2300

Warnings: Fluff a lot of it. A hint of insecurity 

Summary: You have been feeling weird for the past couple of days. You decided to take a test and the results shocked you. Was telling Bucky about the results a great idea?

Hmm, the smell of freshly baked cookies surrounds you as you walk into the kitchen. Besides the smell of roses, your second favorite smell was the smell of homemade food. 

For the past three days, you haven’t felt the greatest. You had been vomiting, having random headaches, and you felt a very high fever. You didn’t think of it much. You must have been getting the cold or the flu.

You loved eating Chinese food, but for the past three days, whenever you wanted to eat it, you would immediately vomit it. You tried getting the food from different places, but it always led to the same results.

Searching your symptoms on the internet wasn’t the greatest idea, but you were just curious about what you might have.

Early signs of pregnancy

Signs that you might be Pregnant

Symptoms of the Flu

Those were your main results when you googled your symptoms. The one that made the most sense to you was that you might have the flu. Then it clicked to you. You and Bucky have never used protection, especially because you are on the pill. So you weren’t concerned about the lack of condoms. 

“Could I have been pregnant” “No, it can’t be” “what if I was? How will I tell Bucky?” your heart started to race faster and faster as your mind started to wonder if you were pregnant. You go through a roller coaster of emotions. You were excited, terrified, happy, sad, worried, every emotion in the book. Happy because you and Bucky have been talking about wanting to start your own little family. You were terrified because what if he didn’t want to have a kid this early? What would happen to Bucky? Would he quit? That was never something that popped up for the both of you.

Wanda walks into the room with a worried look on her face. “I don’t want to be that person, but I can hear your thoughts miles away. Is everything alright?” she takes a seat next to where you were sitting. She takes your hand and tries to comfort you. “I can go buy you a couple of tests if that brings your mind to ease.” you give her a small nod. She leans in forward to hug you. “I’ll be back. Wait right here and try to relax.” 

The moment she left the room, you go to the bathroom and start preparing for a bath. You stare at yourself in the mirror, looking at your lower stomach. You were able to see a small bump. You place your hand on your stomach. Now you were fantasizing, what if you were pregnant? Would it be a mini you or a mini James? 

You had the biggest smile at the thought that you might be carrying a baby in your stomach. 

You lower your body into the warm bath full of bubbles. You now felt relaxed. All you could focus on was the playlist that Bucky created for you, full of music that reminded him of you. The playlist went from 40’s music to present-day songs. Your mind wanders back to that day, where he was showing you the playlist he created for you.

You both were cuddling on the couch watching Star Wars: Empire Strikes Back. Your head was lying on his right shoulder and your arms wrapped around his bicep. Bucky looked confused watching the movie “so this is what you and Peter enjoy watching?” 

“Yes, this is a good movie, and if you don’t be quiet, I’m going to throw a handful of popcorn towards you” you giggled a little. You were serious. If he didn’t stay quiet, you were going to do that.

He turns his head, pressing his lips against your forehead. “Doll, I would like to see you try,” He whispers as he maintains his lips pressed on your skin. 

Without hesitation, you take a handful of popcorn and throw it to his face. He does the same thing and throws popcorn at you. At this point, you both forgot about the movie and focused on just throwing each other popcorn. There were shared laughs and smiles between the two of you.

Bucky moves to the floor, grabbing the pillow next to him, trying to protect himself. You grab the pillow next to you as well. 

Minutes pass by, and now the living room looked like a mess. It seemed like a popcorn machine has just exploded. The bowl that you and Bucky were getting popcorn was now empty.

You both were trying to catch your breath. From all the laughter you both had. Bucky gets back up and sits on the couch. He put his right arm around your shoulder. 

“Now, how are we going to watch the movie without popcorn?” you cross your arms and have a small frown on your face.

With his metal hand, he unwraps your arms and takes your left hand. He brings it up to his lips and softly kisses it “that sounds like a problem, doesn’t it doll?” he had a small smirk on his face.

You ignored him and snarky comment. It did make you giggle a little. 

Once the movie ended, Bucky reaches to his pocket and takes out his phone. “Doll, I have a surprise for you” his voice got small and a bit shaky. He was always nervous about giving you a present. He would always think that you wouldn’t like it.

He scratches his head, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to give this to you. It was something different it wasn’t the usual thing that he has given you. Such as flowers or food.

You notice how tense he was, so you place your hand on his cheek. You slowly move your thumb against his skin. “Baby, no matter what it is. I know I’m going to love it” you nodded briefly with a small smile on your face.

He takes a big gulp, but he was a bit more relaxed than he was a couple of minutes ago. “okay,” there is a small pause in between. He was unsure if he wanted to continue “Just to let you know Peter helped me create this since he knows more about this magic box than I do” he gave a brief giggle and hands you the phone “look for the app called Spotify, and there should be a playlist with your name on it.” 

You always found it cute that he never knew how the technology worked, but he was always willing to learn for you, as you scroll through the apps trying to find Spotify. The moment you opened the app, there it was the playlist made for you. The name of it was “songs that remind me of my angel.” You clicked on the playlist to see what songs it had. The playlist had over 100 songs.

Tears start falling down your cheeks. You were happy. You couldn’t believe that he had done this for you. 

Bucky had a concerned look on his face. “Doll, no, don’t start crying.” His voice was shaky, and he started to panic slowly. He intended never to make you cry.

You place both of your hands on his cheeks and pull him in for a kiss. As you both were kissing, you get on top of him, leaving no space in between the two of you. He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you in closer. 

You pull away for a moment. “Thank you, Bucky. I love it”

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

You hear a knock on your door. “Hey, I’m back from the store with the tests” You sighed in relief. It was Wanda. 

You rapidly get out of the bathtub and grab a towel to wrap yourself in. “You can come in, Wanda.”

Wanda opens the door and places the tests on the countertop. She grabs a towel “turn around. I want to help you dry your hair” you listened to her and let her dry your hair. “I don’t know how you might feel, but one thing I will reassure you about is that no matter what the results may say. Bucky is always going to love you.” 

With what Wanda has just told you, it put your mind at ease. She was right. No matter what, he was always going to be there. You take Wanda’s hand “can you stay here with me while I take these?” you had a small smile on your face as she gives you a nod.

You put on your PJs. You didn’t want to stay in a towel anymore. Opening the box, you can feel your heart racing, a hundred beats a minute. 

The moment you took the test, you stared at it. You were waiting for the results to pop up. On the box, it said to wait for five minutes. To you, those five minutes felt like an eternity. You wanted to know, and you wanted to know now.

Positive.

Two dark blue lines, you started at those lines for a couple of minutes. Those minutes felt like they were hours. You wanted to make sure you weren’t delusional and that you saw those lines. The results on that little stick were positive. You were pregnant, something you thought wasn’t possible. But it happened, your heart full of joy and love. You were going to be a mom, and Bucky was going to be a dad. The little family you both, have dreamt for years is finally happening. 

Before telling Bucky about the news, you wanted to feel confident about the results. Lucky, the pregnancy test box that Wanda bought had two inside. You take a big breath before you take it, just in case if those results were negative. You didn’t want to your hopes up. You take the second test, and the same dark blue lines from earlier show up. Once again, your heart fills up with happiness, joy, but mainly love.

You couldn’t wait till Bucky came home. You were so excited to tell him. 

Wanda didn’t have to ask you about your results. She already knew, especially because you had the biggest smile on your face. 

Hours pass by, you were thinking about how you were going to tell him. “Should I just tell him the moment he walks in?” “no, that would catch him by surprise” “Should I-?” your thoughts were running wild. Before you knew it, the door was opening.

Bucky throws his bag onto the couch. He looked exhausted; it looked like he had a very long day. You run towards him and hug him tightly. “Woah, Woah, looks like someone missed me” He holds you and gently kisses your head. 

He grabs your hand and starts walking towards the direction where the couch was. He sits down and pats his thigh as he wants you to sit on his lap. The moment you sat down, he wraps his arms around you. “I’m glad that I’m finally holding my baby girl in my arms.” Whenever he would call you his baby girl, your cheeks would turn bright red with the biggest smile. “I can’t get enough of that beautiful smile of yours. Such a sweet smile that lights up your whole face” He places his hand on your cheek and pulls you in for a kiss. 

You lay your head on his shoulder. You were taking a big breath before you said anything. Once again, your heart was racing. “Bucky,” there was a small pause. You wanted to make sure you said the right words and that he would be able to hear you. “I’m pregnant.” 

Silence 

You could hear his heartbeat increase. You were unsure what face he had. You didn’t know what emotion he was portraying. All you could feel and hear is the sounds of his heartbeat dramatically increase. 

The silence lasted for minutes. “Oh no, did I do the wrong thing by telling him?” you thought. You hated the silence. Your stomach started twisting and turning.

Bucky takes a big breath and places his hand on your lower stomach. “are we-“ he pauses for a moment, his voice got small and shaky, “are we going to be parents?” He starts to slowly move his hand in circular motions on your stomach.

You left up to your head from his shoulder and looked at him. He had the biggest smile on his face, tears forming in his eyes. He was happy. He knew the answer you were going to say without saying a word. Just the look on your face said it all. 

Bucky places his hand behind your head, slowly running his fingers through your hair. He pulls you in, pressing his lips against yours. It felt like time has stopped for the both of you. All you could focus on was how soft he felt against your lips, how addictively he invaded all your senses. 

You both were kissing like there was no tomorrow and as if your lives were dependent on it. Bucky tongue slips inside your mouth, gentle but yet so demanding. Even though this wasn’t the first time he had done that, it always felt like it was. This was the type of kiss that melted you into his arms, every square inch of your body dissolves into his. Moving your hand from his neck to his hair, you grip his hair, pulling him closer. 

Without breaking the kiss, he pushes you gently onto the couch. Now you were lying down. Meanwhile, he was on top of you. He pulled away for a moment and had the cutest smile on his face “Baby girl. We are going to be parents” you give him that same smile and give him a small nod.

[linasobsessions]

Our Journey OR 4 Times you asked Matt for something during your pregnancy and the one time he did {Matthew Tkachuk}

Word count: 2,5k

Warnings: talk of vomit? Matthew being extremely sweet (yes this should be a warning)

After you told Matthew you were pregnant he was over the moon. His face lit up with what probably was the brightest smile you had ever seen. He couldn't wait to be a father, even if your pregnancy was unexpected. He had swore right then and there that he would do anything to ensure you had everything you wanted and that he would take care of you and your little one in any way that he could. And he took his promise incredibly serious.

1.

A couple of weeks after you found out the typical pregnancy symptoms started. Especially the morning sickness was something you struggled with. It wasn't unusual you woke up with the urge to throw up. Today was one of those days.

You woke up cuddled into Matthews chest with his arms wrapped closely around you. He had come home from a long roadtrip last night and you were glad he was finally back home with you. Before you were pregnant it wasn't as hard to see him leave as it was now. Now you had another person you had to worry about which made it so much more difficult. Having him close to you and waking up next to him was one of the best feelings in the world. But this morning that feeling was pushed aside by nausea taking over. Unwrapping yourself from his arms you bolted to the bathroom to empty your stomach. You should be used to it by now but it still took so much energy from you.

You didn't hear Matthew wake up and get to the bathroom with you. Only when you felt one of his hands holding your hair back you noticed he was there. The other started to rub your back to soothe you. When your stomach had calmed down you lifted your head and let out a groan.

"Matt please get out. I don't want you to see me like this."

But he just pressed a kiss to the back of your head instead of getting up.

"Baby, I signed up for this when I told you I'd take care of you. This is part of our journey. I won't leave you alone with this. You okay now or do you have to go again?"

You nodded and stood up with his support to get to the sink. Grabbing your toothbrush you started to brush the taste of vomit away.

"I'll get you some tea, okay? Get back to bed when you're done."

You gave him a small smile and tried to speak with the toothbrush in your mouth.

"Can we cuddle then? I don't really feel up to doing something."

Matthew pressed a kiss on your temple and muttered 'you can be glad it's my day off' before getting out of the bathroom to make you the tea. Finishing off you spit out the toothpaste and rinsed out your mouth. You were glad to be getting back to bed as you laid back under the covers and got comfortable. Matt came back to the bedroom with a steaming mug in his hands which he put down on your nightstand. You patted his side of the bed so he would get back into bed with you. Smiling to himself he slid under the covers with you and pulled you close to him. Laying your head on his chest and drawing shapes on his skin. You started to get drowsy again and Matthew noticed.

"Go to sleep baby. I'll be here when you wake up. I love you."

You nuzzled into the crook of his neck as your eyes finally fell shut.

"I love you too Matty."

-------

2.

It took until the end of your first trimester for the morning sickness to calm to such an extent that it was a rarity. Pregnancy hormones took over their place. And these pregnancy hormones made you crazy. Not only did you have heavy mood swings. No. You were also constantly sexually frustrated. Matthew could do anything when he was home, even just sit on the couch watching a movie and you wanted to jump his bones. Not that he minded of course. He was happy to help you out with your seemingly insatiable libido.

It had been a calm night. You and Matt had planned to watch a movie and then go to bed. He had a game tomorrow so it was important that he went to bed early and got as much rest as he could. But your hormones seemed to have other plans. Watching him all concentrated on the movie and having his side profile with jawline full on display made you press your thighs together. Your hand reached out to the back of his neck as you run your hands through the hair there. As he leaned into your touch you decided to make your move.

"Matty?"

You moved your body closer to him and he reached out for your body to curl up against him. He looked down at you and raised his eyebrow, signaling you to continue. You looked down nervously in your lap. You didn't want him to lose rest because of you but you couldn't help yourself. You needed him so badly. Your fingers ran over his chest against the muscles you loved so much.

"I need you Matty. Please. Please fuck me."

The look you had in your eye made Matt give in. He let out a groan while leaning forward to press your lips together. You sighed as you finally felt the satisfaction of having him this close again. You pushed yourself into his lap as you wrapped your arms around his neck. His hands wandered to your hips, grabbing onto them so hard you were sure he would leave marks on your skin. The kiss started to get very passionate with your lips moving and synch and your tongues exploring the other. Almost unconsciously you started to move your hips against his, pressing your core into his crotch. Another groan left his lips as he threw back his head and you felt him harden up under you. He now guided your hips with his hands as you moved your mouth down to his neck, sucking on the skin under his ear.

"Take me to bed, Matthew."

He didn't have to be told twice as he held your thighs against him. He walked to your bedroom with you holding onto him, kissing him in a way he knew you would have a good night. And an amazing night it was.

------

3.

Your cravings were beginning to take over. Your little daughter, as you had found out, was craving the weirdest things st the weirdest times. Some things, like Nutella and pickles had already become so regular that you had enough glasses of both to last a lifetime. When Matt noticed it was a returning craving he bought as much of it as he could. You thought it was very cute, seeing him so caring to have your and your baby girl satisfied. He was very helpful when it came to your cravings, having made sure you would ask him to get things for you no matter the time. And the no matter the time was something that was kicking in now.

You looked at your phone for the time. 3.46am. And you were craving a milkshake with fries. Letting out a sigh you turned back to lay down and looked next to you to see Matthew spread out, deep in sleep. He looked so young and innoced while sleeping it could make you forget what a cocky little shit he sometimes was. But that only made you love him even more. You hated waking him up but he made you promise to make him get your cravings. Grabbing onto his shoulders you shook them while calling his name. Grumbling because he got pulled out of his precious sleep he lifted his head to look at you. You took this as a sign to continue talking.

"Baby girl is craving a vanilla milkshake with fries. Could you please get some?"

Without complaining he got up muttering a 'of course sweetheart' before throwing on sweatpants and a hoddie to get you your milkshake. Half an hour later the bedroom door opened with him carrying a bag of fries with two milkshakes, one for you and one for him. As you saw him making his way over to you, your face lit up with a big smile. This is was Matt was living for. Seeing you happy made him the happiest. He sat back down on the bed with you and you took his face into your hands and kissed him as a thank you.

"Thank you baby. You're the absolute best you know that?"

Matt smiled back at you while wrapping his arm around you. He looked at you eating your fries, dipping them into your milkshake as he sipped on his.

"Anything for you my love. Can't have you and our baby girl hungry can we?"

------

4.

At the end of your second trimester the unpleasant sides of your pregnancy started. You were constantly tired and your back hurt from all the extra weight on your belly. But the worst thing was the swelling of your feet and ankles. It felt like every time you went out it didn't take long for your feet to swell up yet again. It bothered you so much that you didn't go out as often anymore.

But one thing you would never miss for anything in the world. And that was a Calgary home game. So you were back at the saddledome in your Tkachuk jersey to support your boyfriend. Standing in the family box with all the other WAGS and children was something you looked forward to every time you were there so it was no surprise you didn't feel your feet swelling up until the middle of the second period. You tried working through it but it just got more uncomfortable as time went on. By the time the game was over and you were making your way down the tunnel you were ready to get home, lay down and do nothing else for the rest of the night. And Matt caught onto this. When he got out of the dressing room he wrapped his arms around you and let you to the exit.

"Let's get you home baby."

As you walked back into the apartment you kicked off your shoes and laid down on the couch while Matthew went to the bedroom to change out of his GameDay suit into more comfortable clothing. He came back with a normal shirt and sweatpants on, but it made him look extremely cuddly. He sat down on the couch by your feet and an idea popped into your head.

"Matty? Could you please massage my feet? There killing me."

He put your ankles into his lap without hesitation as he ran his hands over the swollen skin. It relieved the ache in your feet and you relaxed under his touch.

"You were standing too much again babe. You should sit down during games."

You only let out a hum, knowing you would stand for him and the team anyway. No matter how bad your feel would ache. But you knew Matthew would be there to massage the ache out of your feet after standing too much. Just like he was always taking care of you.

--------

+1

It was the middle of your last trimester and your belly seemed to get bigger and bigger every pday. You could feel your little girl kicking and moving around in your belly and it gave you comfort feeling her being so active. By now, Matt insisted of you staying home from games of his, just to be safe. And you followed his wish. But seeing the flames get crushed by the oilers during a home game made you wish you could be in the arena to comfort Matt as soon as he got out of the dressing room. But that had to wait.

You were getting ready for bed, changing into one of Matthews bigger shirts when you heard the front door opening. Matt was home. Hearing his dress shoes on the wood of your floor made you antsy to welcome him back. He opened the bedroom door and saw you with your arms already opened for a hug. For him, this was home. Seeing you in one of his shirts ready to welcome him home gave him a great feeling of being at home. Matt let out a sigh as he dropped his bag by the door and walked into your arms. He curled his arms around you to embrace you as tightly as he could without putting pressure on your belly. Running your hands over his back and through his hair you finally felt him relax. You stepped out of the hug to cup his cheek and run your thumb over the stubble on his cheek.

"Get changed. I'll be waiting in bed to cuddle."

You didn't have to tell him twice as he kissed your forehead and moved to your closet to get changed. Meanwhile you slid under the covers and watched him get out of his suit. As he was only dressed in his boxers he turned around and got into bed with you. He looked at you with sparkling eyes and a shy smile, something you rarely saw.

"Can I- can I talk to her?"

You knew exactly what he wanted to do. He wanted to talk to your belly. He had picked it up sometime along your second trimester, once you felt her starting to move around. He told her all about his day, jokes his teammates had told him but mostly he told her how excited he was to welcome her to the world and that he couldn't wait for her to get out of your belly so he'd give her all the hugs and kisses she could possibly want. It warmed your heart every single time, seeing him so attentive with your unborn daughter that you didn't hesitate to pull the shirt over you belly so it was on display. He rested his head above it and pressed a kiss against your skin. As he got comfortable you began to run your hands through his curls, knowing it would relax him and distract him from the loss even more. You were starting to drift off to sleep as you heard Matt say the first words to your belly of the night.

"Hey little one. It's daddy. I can't wait for you to finally be here so I can finally have you in my arms."

All these things ensured you he would be the best dad to your daughter. And you agreed with him. You couldn't wait for her to come into the world and grace you with her presence. You know your little one would be one of the most loved children in the world.

[yostresswritinggirl]

Alatus' Weakness

Even the strongest, mightiest men carry with them their ultimate weakness. And when it is under the wrong hands, their power won't be enough to prevent them from crumbling... What is it? What was it that the Evil God took hold of that forced him to serve his evil deeds for years?

Pairings -> Alatus x Reader (Xiao)

Word Count -> 1350

Themes -> You won't find happiness here.

Series -> #SojournerSpecials (600 Followers Event)

Warnings -> This is punishment for Xiao forcing me to whale for him. As well as the Oceanid anons. (EDIT: THIS HAS MADE PEOPLE CRY, PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN RISK)

The Yaksha of the wind dances in fluid whirlwinds as the breeze makes its rounds over the plains, his lightness barely wrinkles the green grass underneath his uncovered feet as the robes he dons flutters behind him.

It was so beautiful, he looked so ethereal.

And when his spear finally settles in a sharp swing, the force manifests into harmless gusts that sweeps the pasture for a second before straightening up again. Alatus had always been an agile dancer. And everyone in the village knows of this.

He offers a slight bow and a smile upon your loud clapping, so giddy of the exclusive performance that you were lucky to witness. It was a treasure that every local wishes to see beyond the battles he fights. Men and women alike yet out of them all it was you who was graced with this blessing.

"Beautiful as always, Alatus!" Your wide smile was infectious and his grin grows the closer he comes to you, arms finding its way around your waist and across your back in a soft hug. The giddiness continues as you turned into a giggly mess from his special affection, reciprocating with a tackle of a hug.

"Did you miss me that much?" He was answered by wordless nuzzles to his chest, making him chuckle and pull you closer.

Alatus was a great and powerful spear dancer, and he had been protecting the village you two reside in ever since. Gods and beings trekked the world commonly and it was too dangerous even for stationary communities. More so for those who lack the Vision to fight in the first place.

He was one, if not the only one capable enough to protect everyone. And many times he would go beyond the parameter to exterminate threats before they became an issue. Most of the time he disappears for a while during this expedition and then return triumphant as the village people greet him and praise him for his hardwork.

But at the end of the day, he settles down in your quiet home where he engulfs you protectively in his arms. There you two would exchange your tales during the span of his expedition, and he would indulge you in a showcase of his dances as compensation for his absence. The highlight of your day.

"There seems to be higher activity in the surrounding territories regarding monsters and Gods," he introduces the topic as he picks up the nian gao with wooden chopsticks, munching the soft treat as you poured a cup of tea to match the snack. "The other villages are asking me to patrol their parameters for a few days to at least clear some of them."

"There's been disturbances around here too," you worriedly chewed at your own snack as you two sat by the veranda of your home, watching the whole of the village from your spot over the cliff. This must be one of the reasons he liked staying here too, an easy access and overseer to the whole area for his duties.

Alatus hums in agreement but continues eating. The way he chews his meal was a telltale sign that there's a worry gnawing at the back of his head. And you had the same worry, except much lighter than his.

The growing tension between the Gods of Teyvat spurs on more turmoil at the news of Celestia's sudden challenge over the archons. And with such offers and desperation, powerless humans and villages had been wiped recently courtesy of the war.

It was a matter that didn't really bother him nor the village, but somehow it came back to him tenfold in multitudes of worry. He has a gut feeling. But Alatus cannot make himself turn away from the pleas of the people that call his name for saving grace.

"Come home soon," your smile snapped him back to reality upon knowing that he wouldn't just leave the other villages behind.

Yet when he left, there was still a gnawing anxiety at the bottom of his stomach.

Alatus for once... had lost his grace for in his hand his spear shakes in unspeakable fear. In front of him beyond the cliff's edge is the blazing ruins of a village he protected for years, day and night diligently. Monsters and men ravaged what's left and he tries to push away the guilt of ignoring them when he rushed immediately to his home.

To where his home should be.

"Alatus," the towering figure turned around to face him and his pupils dilated at the image, muscles flexing to dash when its hand raises in a motion to stop him, tutting mockingly at the warning. "Ah, ah, you wouldn't want them to die like this, would you?"

The being of pure evil had your unconscious form in its arms, a fight evident on your bruised and cut form as blood trickles from your forehead to the earth beneath. And on your head, the source of the wound, is a crown of thorns. He fights the urge to cry and vomit at the state you were in, at the state he could have prevented if he'd just STAYED.

"Please," his broken voice ghosted a smile on the God's face, "Please leave them alone."

"I'm afraid I can't do that," Alatus' heart sinks at the refusal with his gaze unfocusing at the difference in power. "After all, they're the one I wanted in the first place, everyone else is just collateral damage."

From that point forward, to preserve the little life force you have, Alatus was under the grasp of the evil god. Under his command he razes the villages he once protected, eating the dreams of the humans that only wish to live in peace. His hands of grace grips his spear with the stains of blood as he kneels in front of the evil God, its name he didn't bother to remember anymore at this point.

It smirks at him while over its hand floats a cube only a few inches bigger. Your cell, where you're cooped up with only a glow of deep blue indicating your existence within it. When he misbehaves he hears cries of agony from it, when he does very satisfactory he even gets to hold it but only that.

The years of painful service had wiped off his smile and most of his memories. Alatus had already forgotten your voice and your face at this point, only the humans and beings he had killed comes to his memories.

Soon after, he has only known the cube to hold something dear to him, a weakness that is a precious one he could not risk. When he tries to remember, he's reminded of a vague visage and a sweet taste on his tongue. If he could cry now he would. It was one of the only good things in his mind now even tho its details continue to ebb away with his horrific deeds.

And finally, like a light that shines through the canopy of the overhead trees, a being mighty enough to contend his evil master comes down to end his suffering.

Rex Lapis, the Geo Archon, the one the evil god desperately tries to overthrow died in his hands.

It is done, all of it. No more innocent blood should stain his hands. "The cube this god possessed is a cell." What should he do now? There was no other place to come back to, maybe the You that resides in the cube had any ideas, to start over. That sounds like a good idea.

"Alatus, was it?" His head slowly picks up from the blank stare it had on the ground.

"Yes, Rex Lapis?"

"Do you know of the one who resides within this cube?" There was a hesitance in Rex Lapis' voice that passed through him.

"They are someone that I know."

"It seems... that human... has perished 200 years ago in this cell."

Alatus, like that last day in a ruined village, had lost his grace when he collapses to the ground. His weakness and his hope both gone.

Seems to me my writing has been short lately

@moaa @dandelion-dreams @witchsungie @lehra @zelos-simp @legionqueensav @snackgod @rxsalinee @cala-ran @wind-wheel @lilydewi22 @yellowflowre @traveler-lumine @nonniechan @kookieyachi @struggljng @bunniesrorange @anormalguyreader

[poptod]

Would u be up to writing a crack fic where Ahk eats some dodgy food and gets violently ill from it and in his food poisoning induced delirium starts to like hallucinate and think that gods are against him and hanging out with him and stuff. so yeah. (also omfg never noticed the ostrich part in NATM!!!)

notes: YEA that fucking ostrich is hilarious and YES this sounds fun. u didn’t say if this was xreader or if this was in egypt or in the museum so i took some liberties, hope that’s alright! i also really ran with this so apologies for the length WC: 2,222

+

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Now, now, that’s no way to refer to your husband,” he said matter-of-factly.

“You are not - we’re not married,” you hissed.

“Not yet,” he said with a grin.

You rolled your eyes, scoffing. Ahkmen wasn’t King yet, but you still held the position as his advisor, placed there by both Ahkmen’s choice and his father’s insistence.

Now, however, you were focused on a different, more pertinent issue. An entire bag of almond date rolls had been thrown away for Ahk to find, opening the sack to find them untouched. Since he had little to no self control—which was why you were there to begin with—he immediately began eating them.

“There isn’t anything wrong with them,” he said through a mouthful.

“You don’t know that,” you said, still glaring up at him.

He swallowed before promptly stuffing another whole roll in his mouth.

“Stop that!” You said, and batted the sack out of his hand.

The cinch released and the rolls went flying down a sandy hill, reaching the river outcrop at the bottom. Ahk watched, miserably, as they disappeared.

“You have access to date rolls anytime you like in the palace,” you reminded him.

“But it’s such a long walk back, and I like it here,” he said, gesturing vaguely to the forested hill overlooking the Nile. Shade stretched over your bodies and the reed blanket beneath you, allowing the wind to cool your sun-beaten skin.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” you said, leaning back to lie down.

“How funny, then, that you are my life,” he said with a grin, following you till he propped himself up on his elbow, his free hand resting on your chest.

He stared at you, scanning you as you half-glared at him.

“What do you want?” You asked, looking up unimpressed.

“A kiss,” he said, puckering his lips.

“Shut up!”

You shoved him onto his back, laughter wracking his body.

A little while later you found yourself once more obeying Ahk’s whim, though his father had warned against that, and followed him in short steps down the tall dune. Solidified, plant-filled earth gave way for free falling sand that drifted off the slope and towards the riverbank.

The water during this time of year was at a steady but slow pace, flowing from south to north as the sun’s rising and setting indicated. Wind that once cooled you now brought hot air, exacerbated by the overzealous sun, who you imagined could burn even your ink-black skin. Sand avalanched around your still feet, landing you at Ahk’s side.

“Luncheon will be soon,” you reminded.

“I’m aware,” he said flatly. “Can’t I simply enjoy myself for once?”

“No.”

He waded out into the water, his shoulders tensing at the chill and only releasing as he went deeper. Once the red water reached his knees, just barely soaking the edge of his skirt, he called to you.

“Come join me,” he said, offering you his hand.

“We should go back to the palace,” you said.

“Come now, it’ll be hours before lunch,” he whined.

“It’s one hour. And you can’t be wearing that,” you said, gesturing to his outfit that consisted of no more than a skirt, partially torn and covered in dirt.

“Then take it off me,” he said with a sly grin.

You scowled at him, going over your options for a moment before you acted.

Once you decided, you waltzed into the river, soaking your sandals as you approached him. Satisfaction filled his gaze as you came closer, his hand still outstretched to you.

At last you took his hand, tugging him forcefully towards you. He let out a grunt, but before he could say anything, you reached forward and released the clasp keeping his skirt on him, allowing it to fall in the running water and drift away.

“Hey!” He cried, attempting to go after it, but stopped by your hand still in his. He turned back to you, a shocked look on his face as he said, “what was that for?!”

“Dawdling. Let’s go back to the palace.”

“Like this?!” He yelled, gesturing to his naked body. You snorted.

“You don’t mind. I know you don’t. You just want to be mad at me,” you said in a definitive voice.

“I don’t-“

“Come on, Prince,” you said, tugging him past you so he stumbled towards the shoreline. As he just barely got his standing you slapped his butt, pushing him forward further.

Ahkmen fell silent—as he rarely did—after he’d been dressed and was on the way to the garden, where the Pharaoh had arranged a feast he made and placed for himself, his family, and the ambassadors visiting from Punt. You were not invited, but you watched from above alongside the youngest Prince’s manservant. Ahk’s room was placed right above the western gardens, large arches within allowing a plenty good sight out, which you and Naguib took advantage of.

“He’s squirming an awful lot,” Naguib noted after several minutes of silence.

Naguib laid on his stomach, his chin propped up on his palms, in turn resting on his elbows on the stone floor. You sat nearby, leant against one of the arch pillars with a tablet of baked limestone on your lap.

At his comment you looked over the ledge, easily finding the trademark golden crown Ahk bore.

“How so?” You asked.

“Look at his legs,” Naguib said, and your eyes turned to his fidgeting crossed legs, “and his hands.”

His fists were clenching and unclenching.

“Should we check in on him?” He asked gingerly.

“.... nah,” you said after a moment. “I’m sure it’s fine. He’s probably just upset I slapped him on the arse.”

Naguib choked on his own spit, bursting into manic laughter.

“You slapped the prince’s ass??” He asked incredulously through gasps of laughter. “How’d he react to that?”

“He stripped me,” you answered, returning to your tablet with little waver in your voice.

“What -“

“That might’ve been because I took away his skirt, though. In that case, he just looked at me really strangely,” you said.

“How so?”

You twisted your expression to reflect what you remembered, a strange mix of confused, angered, and one feeling that was almost always at the forefront of Ahk’s mind—horny. Naguib burst into another round of laughter.

Several minutes later, after your conversation died down, Naguib looked back over the ledge and frowned.

“He’s gone,” he said.

“Who what?”

“Ahk, he isn’t there anymore,” he said, pointing to the empty cushion where Ahk had been sitting. You shifted to see.

“Huh. What do you think happened?”

Bursts of metal latches and swinging hinges interrupted you before either of you could think of an answer, followed by the wooden frame of the door slamming against the other wall. Both of you darted to look behind you, finding several different servants entering, a limp Prince in their arms.

Instantly you jumped to your feet. Naguib joined you, though much slower, and you both made your way to his bedside once the servants set him down.

“What happened?” Naguib asked, a hand on the bed as he looked up to one of the servants.

You set your hand over his forehead, testing his temperature, and using your sense of magic to reach into his veins, searching for a perpetrator.

“He hasn’t got a fever,” you noted, earning a nod from the servant tending him.

You made to search again before Ahk moved, groaning softly as he curled into himself, clutching his stomach.

“Ahk? Are you alright?” You asked—probably too quickly—as you knelt at his side, panic pounding its way into your heart.

“Ugh,” he grumbled, just barely wheezing out his breaths. “Alive. Right now.”

“What are your symptoms?”

“Stomach,” he breathed, halting as he flinched, his hands moving to slap over his mouth.

“Bucket!” You said to the servant, who nodded and rushed for one of the buckets in the nearest closet. “You’re going to throw up, its alright. Get it out.”

“Ughhh...” he mumbled, convulsing forward again as he attempted to hold it in.

In a flash the servant returned, rushing to set the bucket down beside the bed. You held it up, helping him scoot dizzily forward before he hurled.

Things continued in a similar fashion until the setting of the sun, the western rays finally sinking beneath the distant mountain horizon. Crickets and firebugs chirped, bringing in the cool breeze of evening, sending shivers down Ahk’s sweat-sheeted shoulders and back.

You ran your fingers through his hair, hoping to raise the curls off his heated forehead, but he raised his hand to stop you.

“No,” he slurred, “too sick... repetitive.”

“Alright,” you said softly.

His dizziness persevered from the evening into the night, but his vomitting had luckily stopped, though he did try to retch on an empty stomach twice. By then he was passed out from exhaustion, still shivering in his sleep. You stayed at his side without fail, raising his sheets up to cover him, and removing them when he broke out into another sweat.

At midnight, his eyes fluttered open.

The first thing he saw was you—surrounded by a halo of brightly glowing stars, colored in red, yellow, and purple. His sickness had faded but the delirium remained, and he reached out blindly for your face.

His fingers dragging across your eyes and cheeks brought you back from your meditation, shocked at his consciousness.

“You’re awake,” you said with a relieved sigh, your knees digging into the cold stone beneath you.

“Hathor?” He mumbled weakly, his eyes still half-closed.

“No, no,” you said, taking his hand down from your face and clasping it in your own hold. “Piye. Remember? How do you feel?”

“Am I dead?”

“Not as far as I know. You exhibit all the tell-tale signs of being alive,” you said, chuckling.

“... Bastet?”

“Also no. Piye.”

“Peets....” he mumbled before promptly falling back asleep.

The next time he awoke was a little later on, towards the very, very early morning. He once again broke you out of your meditation, this time with words rather than smothering your face. His state of aberration had yet to improve.

“Piye?” He asked softly, a husk of a voice.

“Yes,” you said, smiling. He remembered your name. “How do you feel?”

“When d.. you’re... you’re glowing,” he murmured.

“I what?”

He reached forward, and you flinched away, stiffened by a soft touch that traced down your jawline.

“You’re... glowing,” he said, louder, drawing in a deep breath as sweat began to bead on his forehead.

“Calm down, Ahk,” you warned him, pushing the hair off his forehead. “You’re going to work yourself up.”

“No,” he said with a strange sense of urgency, holding your face in the palm of his hand. You subconsciously leaned your cheek into his touch. “No, I need to see you.”

“I’m right here, with you.”

“Not in my dreams,” he breathed out, the words brushing his parted lips, now paler than ever.

Fever.

Vomitting.

Fatigue.

Gagging. Weakness. Dizziness. Chills. Sweating.

What would your father say?

He didn’t need to consult the numerous stacks of books shoved into his office to know what Ahk suffered from, but he was far away in Thebes, and you wouldn’t dare leave the Prince’s side, in fear of his condition and the wrath of his father should he suffer grievously.

“I told you not to eat those date rolls,” you chided, continuing to thread your fingers through his hair. That must’ve been the cause—sickness carried through infirm food. You could think of nothing else.

He didn’t say anything. Not for a little while, at least. He continued to blink, albeit slow, and stared unceasingly into you.

“He is in your eyes,” he whispered, his own eyes flickering between yours. “And... speaking.”

“Who do you see?” You asked softly, suddenly reluctant to blink.

“Heka.”

Not a God of magic, but the personification of it. The genuine representation of healing and enchantments. His fertile, black skin made of the Nile’s silt was reflected in your own complexion—darker than night, flanked by eyes that appeared to glow against the midnight of you.

“What is he saying?” You said, readjusting yourself beside his hand, a seriousness edging your tone. Claims of Heka were not to be taken lightly.

“Pledging.. love.”

“For who?”

“... me,” he whispered.

“Beloved of...”

“Beloved of you,” he interrupted before you could finish your thought, a smile creeping at the edges of his pale lips.

You chuckled softly, reaching up to stroke your thumb over the back of his hand. He was returning to a saner state of mind.

“Perhaps so,” you murmured.

[neonponders]

Okay I’m in this Flayed!Steve thing now. Here’s part 2 for this post ~

It’s the angsty middle (I don’t know if I’m doing a part 3 so this might just be angst with no conclusion LOL) so I’ll put it under the cut.

• • • • • • •

Billy frowned at Max’s gaggle of weirdos from atop his lifeguard throne. She had a pass to the pool - courtesy of his job - so the extremely obvious sneaking around was even weirder than that herd of freshmen usually behaved.

Whatever. It’s summer. It’s closing time, and Billy’s got plans to be nowhere in Hawkins tonight. He’s got a concert ticket burning a hole in his locker, and he can’t help but touch it fondly after he finishes his shower -

The lights go out.

He wants to slouch and tip his head back like Max does when she’s just over it. But since he’s the boss around here, he puts strength in his legs and barks, “HEY! Lights on and get out!”

When nothing changed, he quickly yanked on his jeans, t-shirt, and shouldered his backpack - ticket safely locked within an interior pocket -

Billy’s mouth opens to bellow, but someone else beats him to it.

“MAX!”

The voice is familiar but he can’t place it. Or rather, it’s out of place, so he doesn’t believe it until he sees Steve Harrington for himself.

“Max! Get out of the freaking sauna! I’m not interested in smelling like old men.”

Billy frowned. There was only one sauna, and women didn’t use it. A mild warning bell moves through Billy’s head at why Max could possibly be in the sauna at all, but instead he chooses to intercept the guy yelling for his stepsister.

“Hey, Harrington.”

It was convenient that Billy stood behind him; he got the full view of that Scoops Ahoy uniform as Steve turned around and -

Got a sandbag in the stomach. The pool staff used those to weigh down signs and traffic cones on busy days in the parking lot, but for the life of him, Billy had no idea where it had just come from. They weren’t stored anywhere near the locker rooms or sauna.

Billy gaped as the guy vocally coughed and flew backward. A good bit of spit got knocked out of him on the way into the sauna, and then the door slammed shut.

Freshmen swarmed around Billy, running at the door to bar it shut. Byers’ brother read the thermometer on the wall. “Almost at two hundred!”

“Max.”

Her red ponytail flew around her head as she looked at him and his confusion. “Billy, I don’t have time to explain.”

“You might!” Lucas intercepted. “We don’t know how long this will take!”

A new voice asked, “How long does it take?”

Billy analyzed this new person’s sailor uniform. “Who are you?”

“Robin. Who the hell are you?”

“I work here!” Billy growled. “What the hell are all of you doing after hours?”

“Steve’s possessed by something,” Robin said.

Billy’s voice went deadpan. “It’s July.”

She grimaced, “So?”

“So take your Halloween bullshit out of here - ”

Slow...quiet laughter turned their heads to the sauna door. Yet...the laughter didn’t match the sobbed, “Bullshit. My life is bullshit. Bullshit. Bullshit.”

“Two-fifteen,” Byers narrated by the thermometer. As if connected to the temperature, Steve got louder, wailing an atrocious sound that made even Billy wince.

“We’re all getting arrested for this if you don’t let him out - ”

“We can’t let him out!” Wheeler shouted. Jesus, the kid was just as bullheaded as his sister. “The Mind Flayer’s inside of him. Maybe you might be bored enough to let this thing take over our dimension, but we’re not!”

“Mike, he doesn’t know,” Max said as if trying to soothe the situation, but Billy’s eyes were on the sauna window. Steve had stood up. And Max stood too close to the door.

A fist broke the glass and gripped her hair the same time Billy dove for her. Max screamed as they both landed against the sauna door. Everyone was yelling, but through the chaos, a hand entered Billy’s vision and Steve flew away from the door as if pulled by a rope behind him.

Billy dragged Max away, but not without seeing how Steve landed on the floor, broken tiles following him from the wall. A girl stood beside them, but Billy didn’t know her. She had a nosebleed but didn’t seem to care. “Steve. Fight it. Fight.”

No laughter this time, but the sound of Steve crying was...hard to listen to. Billy and Max slowly returned to the others, all of them peering into the sauna at Steve slumped on the floor.

“I can’t. I’ve been trying. I can’t anymore. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

He held his bleeding hand, but all of him sounded broken. Billy heard himself ask, “What’s wrong with him?”

“Mind Flayer,” the girl said.

“Yeah, that doesn’t mean anything to me,” Billy remarked.

“It’s a creature from another dimension,” Byers said...a bit too calmly. “It possessed me last year.”

“You seem fine,” Billy retorted, even though Byers was pale, skinny, and for some reason stayed true to that ridiculous bowl cut.

“My mom and brother got it out of me, but it won’t be as easy this time. All of the flayed people have been eating chemicals. Steve’s house is a mess.”

Robin pointed at the window, “Does that look all right to you?”

Billy refocused on Steve...and all the black veins on his arms, his face.

“Two-forty,” Byers said.

The curly-haired kid...Dustin, Billy remembered from some locked cabinet of his brain, said, “The human body can’t survive past one hundred and ten.”

“What if he’s not human anymore?” Lucas said quietly, like a secret.

“Steve’s still in there!” Dustin yelled, even though his tone was soaked with doubt. “Steve, you gotta fight it, man. Come on! I know you don’t have the best track record, but this is a fight you can’t lose!”

“I ALREADY LOST!” he screamed. Max was crying in Billy’s arms. He hadn’t realized they still held onto each other. Steve cried, “I lost. Soon as this thing’s out of me...I’m dead. I’m so thirsty. All he drinks is bleach. I’m not okay. There’s no way I’m okay. I’m sorry. Robin. I’m sorry. I tried. I tried so he didn’t see you. I tried every time...”

Billy didn’t know what the hell was going on, but Steve’s veins were black, all of them bulging beneath his skin as he began to convulse. Will moved, gasping and weirdly riveted to Steve vomiting something that looked too thick to be saliva.

Then he deflated. “That’s not it. That’s not enough. Two-fifty.”

“What’s it look like?” Lucas asked.

“It’s a cloud - a vapor. It’s - ”

“A shadow.”

Like rats scattering, they retreated from the window where Steve stood again. Except the girl remained, gazing steadily back at him as he reached through the window...not to grab her, but to test the distance.

Steve smiled. Billy felt cold. “Limited human parts.”

Her jaw stiffened as her hands formed into fists at her sides. Opening. Closing. Opening. Closing.

Opening, and rising to point her palm at the window. “When the spider leaves, the web dies.”

Billy couldn’t believe that Steve moved because of this girl, but he landed against tiled wall again...and again.

Dustin was shrieking as Lucas and Mike held him back. “You’re killing him! Stop! Please!”

The girl sobbed through the blood dripping past her mouth -

A guttural hack of a sound wrenched out of Steve, and the sauna went dark. Not like the lights going out...but like dust out of a vacuum. Soot from a faulty firework making Billy squint and then dodge out of they way of Lucas wielding a lighter and hairspray.

To Billy’s horror, the soot cloud moved. Dodging and evading the hairspray flames - some of it even catching light and moving like cinders.

Lucas, Mike, and the girl chased it out of the building, but Billy and the others looked at Robin wrenching the sauna open. Steve lay unmoving inside.

“Steve? Steve! Oh...god. We need a hospital.”

They didn’t have a hospital. But they did have a lifeguard.

“Move. Let me see him.”

Billy still had no functional idea of what the hell was going on. All he knew was that he didn’t get paid enough for any of this, and his CPR training told him: when in doubt, keep compressions going until better helps comes.

“Max, call an ambulance. Then stand outside to flag them down. Robin, help me move him out of here. It’s too hot.”

For all of Max’s faults, an unsteady head was not one of them. She took off for a phone and Robin was thankfully nearly as tall as Steve and Billy. They lifted Steve with ease and got him to a locker room bench. Dustin and Byers put cool-soaked towels underneath Steve’s armpits as Billy began chest compressions.

Both boys flinched back at the sound of bones snapping. Dustin exclaimed, “That’s not right! That can’t be right!”

“I have to break the sternum off the ribs to compress his heart. Stay the hell out of my way.”

Maybe it was the sound, or the sound coupled with Steve’s sweat and slimed-drenched face, but Robin finally broke. She ran for a toilet and heaved. Then both boys held onto her, crying as Billy gripped Steve’s hair and jaw to open his windpipe and breathe into him.

It was gross. It was terrifying. And it felt like nothing was happening. Steve was cold and unmoving. He tasted strange. Soft lips made acrid and sharp.

Voices echoed in Billy’s ears but he didn’t stop. He counted to thirty and breathed for Steve twice.

Thirty.

Breathe.

Thirty.

He still counted even after an EMT ripped him off of Steve, and left him standing vacantly in the lot as the firework of a truck sped away.

[bamf-jaskier]

What the fuck are the Trials

Since the show is based on the books and not the games, and more people are more familiar with the games that the books, I thought it might be helpful to sort of officialize the posts I’ve done about specific topics in the books. 

Here are the previous posts on Triss&Geralt as well as Coën

TLDR: So looking at this process, according to the books the way a Witcher becomes, well a Witcher looks like this:

There is the Choice which is the decision to become a Witcher made when you are a child

Eat a lot of magic mushrooms that give you the strength and ability Witchers are known for

Then the Trial of the Grasses which is a concoction of mutagenic elixirs injected into the bloodstream which mutates you into a Witcher

Then finally there are the Changes. This is a big step and one that requires a mage. This is when the hormones are changed and a Witcher becomes permanently sterile

then there is training until you earn your medallion and BOOM, out onto the path with you

Now, have a post about what the trials are as far as the books are concerned

It’s important to note that in the books, The Witcher are a dying breed so the Trials are really only mentioned in Blood of Elves when Ciri trains with the Witchers and the two prequels, Sword of Destiny and The Last Wish. 

Let’s start out with the basics of the Trials, here is a passage from Blood of Elves where Triss is wondering why the Witchers at Kaer Morhen are being so secretive in regards to Ciri:

“It’s obvious. They want to mutate the child, subject her to the Trial of Grasses and Changes, but they don’t know how to do it. Vesemir was the only witcher left from the previous generation, and he was only a fencing instructor. The Laboratorium, hidden in the vaults of Kaer Morhen, with its dusty demi-johns of elixirs, the alembics, ovens and retorts… 

None of the witchers knew how to use them. The mutagenic elixirs had been concocted by some renegade wizard in the distant past and then perfected over the years by the wizard’s successors, who had, over the years, magically controlled the process of Changes to which children were subjected. And at a vital moment the chain had snapped. 

There was no more magical knowledge or power. The witchers had the herbs and Grasses, they had the Laboratorium. They knew the recipe. But they had no wizard.”

Later:

“And now they want to mutate the girl but can’t. And that might mean… They may ask me to help. And then I’ll see something no living wizard has seen, I’ll learn something no living wizard has learned. Their famous Grasses and herbs, the secret virus cultures, the renowned, mysterious recipes…”

Now, what Triss doesn’t realize is that Geralt and the others are not planning on subjecting Ciri to the trials at all but are instead trying to hide Ciri’s magical ability from Triss. They are worried she will report them to the Chapter. 

Of course, until they tell Triss this, she is deeply suspicious and goes on to talk about the mushrooms Witchers have access to which are extremely unique. 

“Of course, thought Triss. They’re feeding her those legendary cave saprophytes – a mountain plant unknown to science – giving her the famous infusions of their mysterious herbs to drink. The girl is developing quickly, is acquiring a witcher’s infernal fitness. Naturally, without the mutation, without the risk, without the hormonal upheaval. But the magician must not know this. It is to be kept a secret from the magician. They aren’t going to tell me anything; they aren’t going to show me anything.”

Later:

“I don’t give a fig for your trust, witchers. There’s cancer out there in the world, smallpox, tetanus and leukaemia, there are allergies, there’s cot death. And you’re keeping your “mushrooms”, which could perhaps be distilled and turned into life-saving medicines, hidden away from the world. You’re keeping them a secret even from me, and others to whom you declare your friendship, respect and trust. Even I’m forbidden to see not just the Laboratorium, but even the bloody mushrooms!”

Triss as a mage has extreme bias against the Trials and for good reason! Most of the populace doesn’t have access to any information on the Trials outside of vague ideas but Mages have access to first hand accounts such as this from Blood of Elves: 

“On the third day all the children died save one, a male barely ten. Hitherto agitated by a sudden madness, he fell all at once into deep stupor. His eyes took on a glassy gaze; incessantly with his hands did he clutch at clothing, or brandish them in the air as if desirous of catching a quill. His breathing grew loud and hoarse; sweat cold, clammy and malodorous appeared on his skin. Then was he once more given elixir through the vein and the seizure it did return. This time a nose-bleed did ensue, coughing turned to vomiting, after which the male weakened entirely and became inert.

For two days more did symptoms not subside. The child’s skin, hitherto drenched in sweat, grew dry and hot, the pulse ceased to be full and firm – albeit remaining of average strength, slow rather than fast. No more did he wake, nor did he scream.

Finally, came the seventh day. The male awoke and opened his eyes, and his eyes were as those of a viper…”

~Carla Demetia Crest, The Trial of Grasses and other secret Witcher practices, seen with my own eyes, manuscript exclusively accessible to the Chapter of Wizards

When most people think of the Trials, they are thinking similarly to Queen Calanthe in Sword of Destiny. 

Here is what Calanthe says to Geralt when talking about what he might do with his child surprise: 

“You are astonished,’ she stated. ‘Well, I’ve studied a little. Since Pavetta’s child has the chance of becoming a witcher, I went to great pains. My sources, Geralt, reveal nothing, however, regarding how many children in ten withstand the Trial of the Grasses. Would you like to satisfy my curiosity in this regard?’

‘O Queen,’ Geralt said, clearing his throat. ‘You certainly went to sufficient pains in your studies to know that the code and my oath forbid me from even uttering that name, much less discussing it.’

Calanthe stopped the swing abruptly by jabbing a heel into the ground. ‘Three, at most four in ten,’ she said, nodding her head in feigned pensiveness. 

‘A stringent selection, very stringent, I’d say, and at every stage. First the Choice and then the Trials. And then the Changes. How many youngsters ultimately receive medallions and silver swords? One in ten? One in twenty?”

Later Calanthe asks Geralt:

“Do you believe a Child of Destiny would pass through the Trials without danger?’

‘We believe such a child would not require the Trials.’

‘One question, Geralt. Quite a personal one. May I?’

He nodded.

‘There is no better way to pass on hereditary traits than the natural way, as we know. You went through the Trials and survived. So if you need a child with special qualities and endurance… Why don’t you find a woman who… I’m tactless, aren’t I? But I think I’ve guessed, haven’t I?’

‘As usual,’ he said, smiling sadly, ‘you are correct in your deductions, Calanthe. You guessed right, of course. What you’re suggesting is impossible for me.’

‘Forgive me,’ she said, and the smile vanished from her face. ‘Oh, well, it’s a human thing.’

‘It isn’t human.’

‘Ah… So, no witcher can—’

‘No, none. The Trial of the Grasses, Calanthe, is dreadful. And what is done to boys during the time of the Changes is even worse. And irreversible.”

Later:

“The risks are too great,’ Geralt said quickly. ‘As you said. At most, four out of ten survive.’

‘Dammit, is only the Trial of the Grasses hazardous? Do only potential witchers take risks? Life is full of hazards, selection also occurs in life, Geralt. Misfortune, sicknesses and wars also select. Defying destiny may be just as hazardous as succumbing to it. Geralt… I would give you the child. But… I’m afraid, too.’

Then in The Last Wish, Geralt describes his own experiences with The Trials:

“Kaer Morhen…That's where the likes of me were produced. It's not done anymore; no one lives in Kaer Morhen now. No one but Vesemir. Who's Vesemir? My father. Why are you so surprised? What's so strange about it? Everyone's got a father, and mine is Vesemir. And so what if he's not my real father? I didn't know him, or my mother. I don't even know if they're still alive, and I don't much care.

“Yes, Kaer Morhen. I underwent the usual mutation there, through the Trial of Grasses, and then hormones, herbs, viral infections. And then through them all again. And again, to the bitter end. Apparently, I took the changes unusually well; I was only ill briefly. I was considered to be an exceptionally resilient brat…and was chosen for more complicated experiments as a result. They were worse. Much worse. But, as you see, I survived. The only one to live out of all those chosen for further trials. My hair's been white ever since. Total loss of pigmentation. A side effect, as they say. A trifle.

“Then they taught me various things until the day when I left Kaer Morhen and took to the road. I’d earned my medallion, the Sign of the Wolf's School. I had two swords: silver and iron, and my conviction, enthusiasm, incentive and…faith. Faith that I was needed in a world full of monsters and beasts, to protect the innocent. As I left Kaer Morhen, I dreamed of meeting my first monster. I couldn't wait to stand eye to eye with him. And the moment arrived.”

So looking at this process, according to the books the way a Witcher becomes, well a Witcher looks like this:

There is the Choice which is the decision to become a Witcher made when you are a child

Eat a lot of magic mushrooms that give you the strength and ability Witchers are known for 

Then the Trial of the Grasses which is a concoction of mutagenic elixirs injected into the bloodstream which mutates you into a Witcher 

Then finally there are the Changes. This is a big step and one that requires a mage. This is when the hormones are changed and a Witcher becomes permanently sterile

then there is training until you earn your medallion and BOOM, out onto the path with you

This is why it’s such a big deal that Triss was brought to Kaer Morhen. Without a mage, someone cannot become a full Witcher and Triss believed that was why she was there. Of course, this wasn’t true but it’s a valid concern to have. 

One thing I want to note, there is absolutely NOTHING in the text that says that being a Witcher is limited to any sort of gender boundary. The fact that Triss so readily jumped to Ciri becoming a Witcher and the fact that Geralt didn’t specify  boys until he was talking about the sterilization process...well, there is a likelihood female Witchers actually existed. 

Again, in the books Witchers are a dying breed and you can literally count on one hand the number of Witchers we meet. Of course, considering mages are the ones who made Witchers, it makes sense that female Witchers are either strongly discouraged, banned or simply not talked about. 

One big point Triss has against Ciri’s training is that she won’t “develop” correctly like a woman “should” due to the mushrooms and harsh training and considering how so many northern mages place importance on beauty I could definitely see mages not wanting to have female Witchers, considering it a “perversion”. 

Just a fun thought I often have about the books that I haven’t seen anyone point out. 

So overall, here is what the books have to say about the Trials, it’s a touch different from the games but I find this very fascinating and interesting. Let me know if you want me to do a specific topic or relationship next, but for now, thanks for reading!

[fonulyn]

Perhaps a sick/fainting Leon to accompany sick and fainting Chris? I can't imagine Leon being a good patient even barely conscious!

so he doesn't faint but he is sick :'D

warning for descriptions of vomiting? not super descriptive tbh but if it's a thing that upsets you.

-

Something made Piers stir awake in the dead of night, and for a moment he was too disoriented to even pinpoint what it was. He shifted from where he was lying on his stomach in the middle of the bed, squinting at the room. Chris’ arm was warm and heavy wrapped around his waist, and by the sounds of it Chris was fast asleep. That made Piers smile to himself, as he knew how much trouble sleeping Chris had had lately. It was good he caught up on some of it.

There was no sign of Leon, and for a moment Piers waited as he figured Leon might’ve gotten up to use the toilet or get a glass of water or something. The minutes ticked by, though, and Leon still was nowhere to be seen, so Piers decided to go investigate. As carefully as he could he extracted himself from the embrace, trying his best to not wake Chris up if he could avoid it. Thankfully all Chris did was shift and bury his face into the pillow, his breaths slow and even, and Piers let out a sigh of relief.

Yawning Piers padded out of the bedroom, and the first thing he noticed was that there were lights on in the bathroom. So he headed that way, stopping in the doorway as he found who he’d been looking for. “You okay?”

Leon was sitting on the floor, practically hugging the toilet bowl. Either he hadn’t thrown up yet or he’d flushed it in between, there was no telling, but he seemed exhausted. He was unnaturally pale, his hair sticking onto his sweaty forehead, but he still attempted a grin. “Don’t worry about it,” he waved aside. “Go back to sleep. I’ll be right there.”

“Bullshit,” Piers huffed, moving closer. He placed his palm onto Leon’s forehead, and although his skin felt clammy to the touch he was still clearly burning up. “Have you been throwing up? Or just waiting for it?” he asked, brushing a few strands of hair off Leon’s forehead before straightening and stepping past him to the medicine cabinet. They didn’t have much he could give Leon for nausea, really, but he could at least find the thermometer and see if he had a fever.

“I’m fine, I—” Leon started, but he didn’t get any further before he was leveled with a look, and he gave in with a sigh. “Yeah I threw up. Multiple times. I don’t think there’s anything left to throw up, anymore.” His shoulders slumped and he pressed his forehead against the cool porcelain. “I was trying not to wake you.”

“Uh-huh.” Piers moved back close, arching an eyebrow at Leon. “Think we can take your temperature? Or do you need to…” He nodded towards the toilet.

“I don’t need to, it’s—”

“Leon.”

“Fine.” Grumpily Leon opened his mouth, although for all intents and purposes he looked like he really wanted to bite the thermometer in half. He let his eyes fall shut, obviously not feeling very great, and in an attempt to make him feel a little better Piers crouched down next to him on the floor and gently rubbed his back in slow circles.

That was when footsteps approached, and a squinty-eyed Chris appeared in the doorway. He yawned widely and ran his fingers through his hair, before trying to take stock of what was going on. “What’s going on?” he asked, voice coarse from sleep, but then he already connected the dots in his mind. “Food poisoning or a stomach bug?”

“We all ate the same thing yesterday,” Piers pointed out. “So probably the latter.”

Leon only made a whiny, annoyed sound from next to him. Suddenly he scrambled to grab the thermometer out of his mouth and blindly handed it over to Piers, before doubling over the toilet bowl and throwing up once again. There wasn’t much to come up anymore, mostly it was bile and dry heaving, but it lasted for a while and Piers kept on stroking his back throughout it.

Worried, Chris moved closer, and as Piers handed him the thermometer he took a look at it. “A bit high. Not too bad,” he said, obviously trying to come up with the best course of action. They probably had nothing they could offer Leon to eat once he felt like trying to keep something down, and other than that they needed to wait until morning before calling in sick on his behalf. “We only have leftovers,” he said, “best go get something that’s easier to keep down.”

Leon had stopped heaving over the toilet by then, slumping back against Piers heavily. Piers held him with an arm around him, and reached out to flush the toilet. “I can go,” he offered, “I’m actually properly awake,” he flashed Chris a teasing grin, and Chris rubbed his sleepy eyes with one hand while flipping him off with the other.

Piers turned his head to press a soft kiss onto Leon’s temple. “You feel like you could try get some sleep?”

At first Leon seemed torn about it, but then Chris hurried to cut in. “We can grab a bucket by the bed in case of emergencies.”

Slowly Leon nodded, and Chris stepped closer, and together they helped Leon upright. Once in the bedroom, Piers set the red bucket down next to the bed, while Chris settled in bed and pulled Leon close against his chest. Obviously exhausted, Leon slumped against him, eyes closed although he wasn’t yet asleep. “I’ll just say sorry in advance,” he mumbled, “in case I puke on you.”

“Well,” Chris chuckled, obviously not minding. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Fuck you,” Leon said, but he hid his grin in Chris’ shirt.

“Try to behave,” Piers griped, good-naturedly rolling his eyes at them. “At least until I get back.” He gave Chris a small wave, while Leon seemed halfway on his way asleep already, before heading out to grab his keys and his wallet. It was an immense relief that he didn’t need to leave Leon alone while he was obviously feeling like shit, but nevertheless, he tried to be as efficient as he could.

Later, when Piers got back from the store, he found Chris and Leon both fast asleep. Carefully he climbed in bed, curving against Leon’s back, and wrapped an arm loosely around his waist.