#increase the dose and he got better for a few days but then crashed again

[fishing-for-blood]

Can we get a picture of your rats?

🥺 the fellas............

Watson is the tan and white one, Cricket is the black and white, they're my older boys almost I've had for 1.5 years. Franklin is the black one with white socks and Maurice is the albino, they're my new guys I got a few months ago. The young fellas are SO DIFFICULT to get pictures of though, their zoomies are too strong. But yeah all four are named after those DNA scientists and they are the lights of my life actually

[flameohotwife]

For the fluff prompt ask: 45 (Kataang, obv)? 👀

45. "You're hurt. Please just let me heal it." from this prompt list.

1.5k words. Rated G. Read on ao3.

Fire and rocks crashed down around them as Aang bent an airshield, but there were so many of them. The rebels had ambushed their tiny camp; it was just Aang and Katara and Appa and Momo on their way back to Air Temple Island from meetings with King Kuei in Ba Sing Se. Aang had immediately sent Appa and Momo to the dark night skies for safety, tucking the bison whistle into his robes for later, and the two of them fought, side by side, against at least a dozen men.

“You’ve got to get out of here!” Aang shouted to Katara as they took advantage of an opening and tore towards the nearby stream.

“And risk having to bring you back to life again?” Katara shot back at him. “Not a chance.”

Aang smirked in her direction as he easily dodged a boulder that fell between them, causing them to run off in different directions through the trees. As much as he hated having Katara in danger, he loved having her by his side for battles like this. She made him feel more confident, and they had always worked so well together, pushing and pulling and complementing each other’s every move. When they worked as a team there were very few foes that could take them down, and that was without the use of the Avatar State.

But Katara’s water skins had quickly become useless as the firebenders dried out the air around them. They had to retreat to water, and that opened them up for more attacks.

The rebels descended on them as they ran, and soon there were flying shards of rock in addition to the boulders, which acted almost like arrows. They were small but sharp, and Katara felt more than one cut into her before she got within reach of the water. She hoped Aang was faring better than she was.

As soon as she could bend water from the stream, though, it was all over. She quickly had their pursuers frozen in ice, and Aang made quick work of the rest of them once he joined up with her. Locals had heard the fight from the nearby town, and law enforcement was there to deal with the rebels before the two of them had finished putting the fires out.

Attacks like these were becoming more and more frequent, the closer they came to unifying the former colonies into what Team Avatar called the United Republic. A few rogue benders from both affected nations had joined forces to oppose their efforts, not wanting their land taken from them or their homes ‘corrupted.’ No matter how many speeches Aang gave about peace and balance and hope, these rebels always found them after. This time was no different.

Finally, the dust settled and they finished quelling the last of the flames. But when Aang noticed blotches of red dotting Katara’s blue robes, he all but flew to her side, heart racing again.

“Hey, Sweetie, you’re hurt,” he said, trying not to show the panic that had suddenly overtaken him.

“Huh? Oh,” Katara replied, looking down and noticing the cuts on her arms and back, and one low on her hip near her abdomen. “It’s nothing, Aang, don’t worry about it. Let me check you over, hm?”

“Katara.” His voice was firm, but his eyes were pleading. “You’re hurt. Please just let me heal it.”

She rolled her eyes but smiled at him and acquiesced, sitting down on the bank of the stream and holding her arms out for him to start.

Aang had never quite achieved the healing success his wife had, but after years of practice he was at least able to mend minor cuts and scratches like these. The water seemed like it was glowing brighter than usual in the dark of the forest. Luckily none of the rock shards had cut her very deep, but he still reached a little further with the water to be sure she was okay; that there was no internal damage from the impacts.

He moved from her arms to her back, and despite Katara’s earlier protests she sighed in relief as he closed all the small wounds, leaning into his touch. When he healed the small gash near her abdomen, though, knitting her flesh back together and reaching further with the water as he had done with the others, he stopped abruptly, water crashing down into her lap.

“Aang?” Katara asked, looking up at him. His eyes were wide and his mouth was flopping comically like a fish, and she shook slightly in an effort not to laugh outwardly at him.

“Sweetie?” she tried again, but Aang just smiled his brightest smile and swept her into the tightest hug.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he finally asked, quietly, into her hair, still clutching onto her for dear life. There was no judgment or accusation in his tone, just open wonder. Awe, even.

“Tell you what?” Katara had never felt more confused, but Aang just bent another small orb from the stream and pressed it fully to her abdomen this time with one hand, taking her hand with his other to feel with the water as well.

As she took control of the glowing water, probing further into the tissue there, she felt it. A small, barely noticeable change in her chi. Or, maybe, it wasn’t actually her chi at all. A faint bundle of energy that was not quite her own. She couldn’t be more than a few weeks along—she wasn’t even expecting her monthly bleed for another couple days.

“I… I didn’t know,” she said, simply. She looked back up at him and they both laughed and hugged again, shocked as they were. They hadn’t exactly been trying for a baby, but they hadn’t been doing anything to prevent one, either, now that they were married. They’d figured they would let things happen in their own time, without the pressures the world wanted to place on them. Now that it had, they couldn’t have been more elated.

“A baby,” Aang sighed. “A baby!” He took Katara’s face in his hands and kissed her with more love and adoration than he’d thought possible. In one instance his love for her had doubled, had increased an impossible amount, because she had doubled his world. There would be time to discuss names and logistics and redecorating their small house and rearranging their lives, but for now, all that mattered was that they were going to have a baby!

“It’s still really early,” Katara warned when he pulled away, feeling his excitement grow. His joy was contagious, yet she knew how often women miscarried before reaching their second trimester. “We can’t even be a month along, yet. Lots of things can happen in the next couple months so…let’s keep this to ourselves? For now?”

“Yeah,” Aang replied dreamily. He understood the risks, but also felt confident that the universe would do that to them, after all they’d been through to get here. Neither of them were supposed to be alive. Katara should have died in the Fire Nation raids and Aang should have died at the Air Temple with all the other Air Nomads, or under Ba Sing Se during the war. Yet here they were, creating new life together. New life that he had just felt with his own hands. He had never felt so ecstatic.

“It’ll be our secret, for now,” he agreed, “but I’m still going to dote on you, you know.” He stood, lifting her in his arms and pulling out the bison whistle once she was on her feet. “Let’s get home, hm?”

“Okay,” she laughed. Her own happiness and wonder, while slightly dampened with a healthy dose of reality, was still hard to contain, and it bubbled out of her as she hugged Aang again. She felt so much potential within her, not just for new life, but for renewing their lost cultures. For a new, small person with Aang’s beautiful spirit. For new love, that was already growing. She couldn’t seem to stop hugging him, even as Appa arrived to pick them up.

Aang swept her up in his arms again and airbent them both into the saddle. They settled against their bags and snuggled up for the ride, hands intertwined and Katara’s head resting softly on Aang’s chest. “Let’s go home, boy,” he called to Appa. “Yip, yip.”

Appa groaned and thumped his tail, and they were off. As they soared up to the sky, both their hearts were soaring, too. A baby, they kept thinking, over and over. A baby!

“I can’t wait,” Katara whispered, just loud enough to be heard over the wind. Aang’s smile—a permanent fixture for these last few minutes—widened, and he held her tighter. He pressed a kiss to her hair, still dirty and smoky from the all-but-forgotten battle, then moved their entwined hands to rest on her abdomen.

The sky brightened slightly before them as the sun’s first morning rays licked the sky. As they flew East towards home, they couldn’t help but feel their future brightening as well, full of promise and hope with their little secret. Their baby.

[batmanie]

Petri dish - Scriddler

Furious screams and a wild stream of insults sobered Jonathan from his almost catatonic state. Two guards dragged a newcomer through the bright corridors of the asylum. The man struggled and flailed but he was powerless, while held in their iron grasp. Scarecrow opened one, bloodshot eye, his ears always eager to listen to the sweet sounds of despair that other inmates often emitted within the welcoming walls of Arkham. As the guards showed the man to the cell in front of his own, Jonathan took a good look at his new neighbor. Short, light brown hair, wide forehead, average-sized, and a high-pitched, annoying voice – it was Edward Nigma – the riddle-guy who had hacked the GCPD database, blackmailed the city hall and pissed off the Bat. Crane had seen him before but it looked like Nigma had had an encounter with Batman again, and judging by his bruises, it hadn't ended up too well. “Listen to me, you brain-dead dullards,” Nigma shouted at the guards through the glassy wall of his solitary cell, trying and failing to get their attention. “...you know I'm right, even a simpleton like you should be able to see that! Batman cheated! I don't know how he did it but I'm going to find out!” He slammed his fists into the glass, his voice now distant but still weakly echoing through the otherwise silent corridor. “I will expose this fake hero-wannabee! Can you hear me? I'm not a villain – HE IS!!!” Scarecrow smiled internally, this sounded like the beginning of a first-hand object lesson on the psychology of a delusional, egotistical, clinically narcissistic patient. A truly delightful combination of mental disorders squeezed together into this one, fragile-looking body. It almost surprised him, how much hatred and passion a single man could contain.

Scarecrow's night was passing accompanied by Nigma's shouts, bragging and wailing as the background noise. It was going on for so long that after some time Jonathan grew tired of the repetitive theme of Batman being the evil offender, and his mind slowly started to produce quite vivid images of multiple ways to shut Nigma up – one of them included getting him drawn down the toilet. It was a good three hours since his capture when Edward finally ran out of steam and his tantrum died off – or perhaps Valium he had surely been given, had kicked in only now. Motionless like a stuffed doll on a field of hay, Scarecrow observed his neighbor through the glass, noticing how the nervous pacing stopped along with the screams. Nigma sat down on his cot, leaning against the wall. A few minutes later his body slid down on the mattress and he was already sleeping, one hand hanging from the bed. “Lesson one is over,” Jonathan thought, not without some relief. Maybe he could try to get some rest, too? He closed his tired eyes but his chronic insomnia got in his way yet again, leaving him sleepless till the morning. The next day, the pattern repeated itself – Nigma woke up highly energetic, paced up and forth, talking to himself, insulting every guard or doctor unfortunate enough to pass by his cell. His loud and constant rambling soon escalated into a full-out outburst of psychotic yelling about Batman's stupidity, which by the evening left Nigma with a sore throat and ended with the Arkham staff dosing him with more tranquilizers so he crashed on his cot like a roadkill on asphalt. It went exactly the same way for the next two days, and all that time Nigma didn't bother to notice that Crane was watching him from the safe distance of his own cell. So far the obnoxious man had made no attempt to interact with Scarecrow, which was surprising, because the psychological profile that Jonathan was able to put together based on his observations, clearly suggested that this individual sought any form of attention he could get. Yet, Edward acted like Crane didn't exist. Or perhaps in his self-centred psychosis, Nigma really didn't see him?

-#-

In the afternoon of day four of his research on Riddler, Scarecrow was waiting for the nurse who was bringing food rations to the patients every day at 2 p.m., disposing it by putting a plastic tray through a small hole in the metal door of each cell. He didn't trust the Arkham food but he enjoyed those little moments when he could decide to make some sudden movement and scare the living hell out of the poor nurse. Or he could very well just stand next to the glass, staring the nurse down with his cold, professional gaze. That method of intimidation tended to work even better on some of his test subjects. The best thing was, he didn't have to choose beforehand, he was free to just go with it as the situation progressed. As he stood there, waiting patiently, he spotted Nigma doing the same. Their eyes met from across the bright-lit corridor and it was the first time the riddle-man really spared him a moment of his attention. Crane took a good look at Edward's face – the face of someone who was still youthful, still untouched by the true horror that Arkham surely was. And even if one could probably call Nigma's features quite handsome, there was this look in his dark-blue eyes – the look of pure disgust that didn't make him look attractive at all. It made him look like someone who loathed everyone and everything around him. Jonathan would have felt offended by being stared down like that by some arrogant wannabee villain, if only he had cared. Luckily for Nigma, he didn't. The night after that event brought an unexpected, new development. Scarecrow was pretending to be asleep, as he usually did, when his ears picked up some commotion in the cell across the corridor. It was Nigma – turning over on his bed, talking in his sleep. Jonathan rolled his restless eyes. Was all that talking during the daytime not enough for this man? It was about 90 minutes since the riddle-man had fallen into his slumber, and he already must have entered his REM phase, having an uneasy time in his subconscious. Intrigued and ready to take more mental notes on Riddler's case, Doctor Crane got up from his cot and silently walked toward the glass, leaning in so close that his breath now created fog on its glossy surface. He watched as Nigma flailed his legs as if running from something or someone. He heard him mumbling incoherent rubbish, it was hard to recognize the words since 3 inches of bullet-proof glass, and the corridor separated them. Whatever sounds managed to go through the small air-holes in the glassy wall and right into Scarecrow's ears, they reminded him of a strangled “No, please!” and filled his dark soul with joy. “Night terrors,” he nodded to himself with appreciation, clinging to the glass like a fish in a tank. “How interesting.” It seemed like the stay in Arkham, or perhaps the latest encounter with the Bat had taken some toll on Mr. Nigma after all. “Just perfect.” He was eager to see which direction the nightmare was going but soon enough something changed in his test subject's behavior. The thrashing about stopped, Riddler's movements were reduced to simply rolling his head on the thin, sweat-soaked pillow. His moans went a note higher and gained a strange hint of despair and frustration. It didn't sound like a bad dream anymore, Scarecrow was confused, yet he was still staring at the man wriggling on his bed in some sort of not-so-unpleasant struggle. It was hard to tell for sure, especially in the dim light of the asylum after the 'lights-out', but Jonathan could swear he saw Nigma rocking his hips, his body twitching involuntarily with a short, intensive spasm. “So it's an erotic dream after all,” Doctor Crane mused, not even considering to look away. The elevated heart rate, increased blood pressure and muscle tension – it was quite amusing how the human body responded with symptoms of arousal to both fear and desire. The second one might not be related to his actual field of research but a true scientist should be open to all given opportunities to learn more about the subject. He wasn't given enough time to fully feed his scientific curiosity. Riddler suddenly gasped loudly, and his body shook with a violent convulsion. He woke up, Scarecrow knew that, whatever dream he had – it was over. Now, Nigma just laid there, trying to recollect, probably going through the mental pictures stored in his brain again and again. It didn't take long before Jonathan registered a slight movement on the other side once again. Edward shifted his position, making himself more comfortable on the bed, spreading his legs and pulling the thin, cotton bed cover over his lower body. His hands slid under the cover, Scarecrow didn't see well but he could easily imagine them roaming up and down the body, probably unzipping the orange jumpsuit or just exploring the still sensitive skin. Soon enough, a small patch on Riddler's cover started to rise and fall rhythmically, in a way that left very little to anyone's imagination. “He is really going to do this,” Doctor Crane hummed to himself in disbelieve. With all the cameras inside their cells, and with a reputation to maintain, that was a rather bold decision. Or perhaps this was just the compulsion of a madman? He had taken Nigma for more than just a man of basic instincts but then again, as a scientist, he knew that there was no escaping from being controlled by your hormones when triggered. The dream must have gotten the riddle-man good, leaving him hard and in need of release. No wonder the man was now moaning into his sleeve, covering his mouth with his left arm, while his right was steadily working on his erect member. “He is ready to pleasure himself in front of a camera. In front of me...” The thought intrigued Jonathan, he felt a shadow of a smile creeping over his long, hollow face. “A lack of shame,” he added to his internal list of symptoms of Nigma's mental illness. “Possible dissociative personality disorder – further research needed.” Edward did not finish yet, his right hand moving at a frenetic pace under the layer of his white cover. His hips were grinding for a fast release as he thrust into his own palm. At some point, his legs kicked the bed cover away, exposing him to the cold night air. Crane licked his dry, narrow lips, watching the show with anticipation. He didn't see the details but he could tell it was close now. A few seconds later, the body on the cot arched like a cane and a muffled moan reached Scarecrow's ears, he greeted it with mild amusement. The show was over and it ended rather predictably, Jonathan was about to retreat to his own cot when all of a sudden Riddler's eyes snapped open and the man perked up his head, catching Crane staring right at him. In the red hue of Arkham’s nightlights, Nigma's eyes seemed to be burning like a true hellfire. Scarecrow boldly stared into that flame, not even trying to turn his head away. He knew that the very moment they dared to lock their eyes in such an intimate situation, it automatically became a challenge – whoever looked away first, would admit his defeat and take the shameful blame. A dreadful, bloodcurdling female scream, coming from somewhere deep inside the asylum, shattered the tense, little moment they shared and made Edward instinctively look into that direction. Jonathan sighed, he was sure it was Zsasz going on one of his night escapades again. And if he was right, it meant an emergency lock-down and general havoc – no time to play mind-games with Edward. Casting one last look at his disheveled neighbor, Scarecrow caught Nigma quickly zipping up his jumpsuit and fixing his bed-sheets like nothing had ever happened. Before the alarm turned on, he returned to his spartan bed, getting back to his well-taught motionless position against the wall. He would continue in his research on Riddler tomorrow, he still had the time for that, tonight however, he could rejoice in the panic that was sure to spread through the madhouse any minute now.

[ghost-writing]

The Monster 2/?? - August Walker fanfic

This is a re-post from my other blog... I’ve decided to post my writing on a separate page, it’ll be easier to access like that.

I’ve edited this a little, but there might still be some spelling mistakes & grammatical errors. (English is not my 1st language!) So, if you see something that irks you, please tell me! :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

PART TWO - Breaking

Word count: 3.2k  (The bit below the 2nd gif was labeled “part 2.2″, and titled “Interlude at the office”, but it’s quite short, so I decided to not make it separate anymore.)

Warnings: Sex (unprotected), rough sex, a certain dose of violence (including light choking), SMUT, swearing and bad language. And August Walker. (The Kingstache deserves its own warning.) And it’s probably full of typos and redundancies.

Part one can be found here!

He texted her around midnight. He had tried to not give in, resisted for almost a week, but he needed to let some steam off tonight. And he thought he liked her, which was angering him even more. She was a good investigator: smart, could think outside the box, and did not take shit from anyone, not even him. He used to like that about Sloane: she commanded respect. She did not deserve it, though. He did not know yet if Annie Franken did, he had not scratched under the surface enough. But after the month he had spent here in Brussels, he could say that he almost enjoyed working with her. At the very least, she made this dull case more acceptable. He had been offended when Sloane had given him the assignment. He felt it was an insult to his previous accomplishments. And the case would last months. At least, he’d get to travel around Europe. And since that night, he thought she was another perk.

Less than five minutes into his first meeting with the captain, he had requested to see the whole team’s files. He wanted to know exactly who he was working with, especially as it was his first time working with the Nexus. The man in charge had refused, but he went higher to get them, and he got them. Detective Franken’s dossier was heavier than the others, almost as thick as the captain’s. Apart from the chief, she had been there longer than everyone on that team, which was why she was in charge, and his direct liaison officer.

She had been in a little more trouble than the others, too. Nothing important: some insubordination (from what the redacted report seemed to say, she had been right, and her senior officer got fired shortly afterwards), and a one-time misconduct while handling a criminal in her care (he was lucky to still be alive, but he had it coming). He smiled thinking about the pics of Denizio, the “victim”: covered in bruises and scratches, a couple of deep bites, a dislocated shoulder, and multiple fractures (nose in two places, left side of his face smashed in, seven ribs, and right ankle). He was impressed: she was a fighter, and a nasty one. He had searched for the video of the incident, but had not got to it yet. He didn’t doubt that the evidence had been deliberately lost, to avoid her too much trouble.

The file also contained a lot of praise: from her former chief in the federal police, and her current one. Thinking back of his first meeting with the man, all these compliments, the twinkle in his eyes: the captain admired her, maybe even had a crush on her. August understood the appeal: good at her job, and a nice rack. Maybe too virtuous, at first sight, but he could smell that there was something hidden under the surface of that porcelain skin. Something wicked. He could see it as clearly as his own darkness.

So he stole her psych evaluations, and got disappointed when he read them. All pristine. Not in an obvious, “I’ll tell them what they need to ear” way. She admitted some problems, discomfort, insomnia, anxiety even. But she had a degree in psychology and criminology: she could’ve been faking it. He listened to the tapes: she sounded genuine. Articulate, but still confused by her feelings and reactions at times. Not the reactions of a control freak, just someone genuinely trying to understand herself, and better herself. He particularly disliked the way she was bouncing ideas off the shrink, as if he had been a wall to play against. No, actually, it’s the guy he hated. He either talked too much, or didn’t ask the right questions, the ones he would’ve asked her. And she seemed to like that bespectacled poster boy of blandness. He thought for a moment that they had fucked in his office, but after a really quick check, he found out the man was a closeted gay.

And so, an hour ago, he parked his car in front of her building, trying to calm down after Sloane’s phone call, a fire burning low inside him. He texted: “Are you at your place? Can be there in 10.” He knew she was in: shortly after his arrival, she got out on the balcony, sipping a drink, looking at the horizon, stretching her limbs, trying to unwind after a long day. The answer he got ignited something else in him. “Sure.” Not yes: sure. Sure, you can come over and fuck me. Sure, I’m waiting for you, CIA. Sure. He was panting, raging. He tried to steady his breathing, which took some time. He gripped the wheel tight, his knuckles turning white. Concentrating on the air filling his lungs, then escaping, slowly. Better. Blank face, blank mind, the August Walker way. Never give too much, to anyone. So tonight, he was going to take. And he made himself a promise.“If she has changed from that black t-shirt and sweatpants from earlier, I’ll take everything I want.” He too needed to unwind.

He got out of the car, slowly making his way to the 3rd floor apartment, still breathing in patterns, not to snap too quickly with the pretty doll upstairs. He knocked, looking at the floor. Seconds stretched, and she finally opened the door. She was barefoot, naked legs, dark red satin starting a few inches above her knees. A short kimono, belt knotted tightly around her waist, modestly covering her ample breasts. Sexy, not slutty. He felt his cock twitch. She still sported the same ponytail she had earlier, but she looked younger than at work. Probably the absence of the constantly furrowed brow, which was a common look in those offices, anywhere around the world.

Pushing past her, he entered without a hello. He heard her protest: “I did not invite you in!”, and made his way into the living room.

“I am not a vampire, I don’t need your invitation.” Thinking to himself “What you are wearing is one, anyway.” He heard the door close.

“Yeah, you give more of a werewolf vibe, actually…” His cock twitched again. He turned to face her, menacingly backing her against the wall. “Doll, you have NO IDEA”, he thought.

He towered over her, a nasty look on his face. He was so close she could probably feel the warmth of his chest, though they were not touching yet.

“Don’t you like a wild beast?” He breathed her scent deeply. “Damn, you smell nice, doll!”

“Do I look like a poodle lady?”, she jested.

And all hell broke lose inside of him: he slammed his body into hers, pinning her against the wall, making her gasp from the physical shock. He grabbed her wrist in his left hand, and opened the kimono with the right: she was wearing a dark red satin balconnet bra that barely covered her breasts. He grabbed her ass: a thong. All assorted to the robe. “Something for guests.”

She was pushing her hips towards him: he growled, less than an inch from her mouth now, but instead of kissing her like she wanted him to, he bit her throat and sucked viciously. She yelped : the thought that this man could hurt her, or break her in two with ease, crossed her mind, but she was still aroused. And she could feel that he was too. She could feel his heart beating in his chest. The thought of August Walker having a heart made her chuckle, and he growled some more as a response to her silent joke. She ran her free hand in his hair and, wanting to kiss him, she grabbed him to make him move towards her face. But he snatched her wrist, brought both her arms above her head and held them secure in his gigantic left paw, still nibbling on her throat. He unbuckled his pants with his right hand, undid the zipper, moving away from her just enough to look at her heaving chest, moving up and down rapidly with desire. Her nipples were peaking out of the satin, now, hard as rocks.

He brutally yanked her thong, and she felt the elastic band clap on her hip. She almost told him that those cost a lot of money, but decided it was wisest to just go with the flow, right now. She got distracted almost immediately anyway: he took his cock out and penetrated her without holding back. As she was dripping with anticipation (she had been since receiving the text, to be honest, running to the bedroom to change out of her comfortable sweats, into something more appropriate for a booty call), he slid his entire length inside her with ease, up to the hilt, and stayed still for a few seconds, looking hungrily at her round tits, biting his lips at the sight of her exposed nipples. He let go of her wrists, leaving them tingling with the sensation of blood circulating again in her veins, and pushed the satin robe off her shoulders and arms. She let it slide off her, feeling it brushing the back of her legs as it fell to the floor.

Suddenly, he pushed the vase and the decorative bowl that were placed on the sideboard next to them, sending them crashing down, and lifted her with his other arm to sit her on the wooden piece of furniture, still inside her. He then planted both his hands on the wall, on each side of her head, framing her, leaning in, his forehead touching hers, pushing her shoulders closer against the cold surface, and he started moving his hips, back and forth, between her thighs, wide open for him, increasing the speed every few thrusts. She moaned louder, and tried to grab his shirt to open it.

“Don’t.”

That one syllable made her blood freeze, and she took her hands off him, grabbing the edge of the sideboard outside of her legs instead. He was grunting like an animal, a huge bear completely enveloping her with his frame. She had always liked big guys, she liked feeling small in their arms and under them. She didn’t need a man to protect her; it was more about being shielded from the outside world for a moment, forgetting everything but the man fucking her senseless. And this large grizzly was very good at that, even if he was rough. She liked rough. She preferred a bit of pain than feel nothing at all.

But the bear man was inflicting more than a little pain, now. His eyes were still fixed on her breasts, dark with rage, his thrusts becoming violent. His lips occasionally sucked at her nipples, more often his teeth bit into them, but he was mostly looking at her breathing in and out, slightly smiling when she’d whimper in protest. And as she started to cry a bit louder, a visible grin was adorning his face.

He stopped pumping into her, grabbed her with one arm around her waist, carrying her next to the couch. There, he pulled her off his cock, savoring her gasp, and put her down. Her legs were slightly shaking, but she did not try to hold onto him for balance. She had understood that he was in a foul mood, and did not want to be touched. “Good girl.” But he was still raging, not feeling like calming down, and she would pay the price for it, even if she behaved. But he was sure that she could take it. If she had wanted him to stop, she would’ve fought back, and he’d be in a similar state as that “poor” Denizio guy.

So, instead of feeling sorry for her, he turned her around, bent her over, and parted her legs with his hands, guiding her ankles with a feet. He slapped her ass once, twice, three times. She let a scream escape only with the first blow. He pushed her forward, so that she ended up kneeling on the sofa. But instead of letting her upper chest rest on the back of it, he grabbed the base of her ponytail in his left fist, and yanked, silently ordering her to look at him. And as soon as her eyes met his, he slid his cock back into her, making her moan loudly. He saw fire behind her pupils: she was enjoying this. Thus, he fucked her, hard and fast, into oblivion. And her cries of rapture grew louder and more desperate. He let go of her hair, seizing her elbows instead, pulling her to him, allowing him to go even faster. She came, but it still wasn’t enough for him, so he let go of her arms, and shoved her face in the seat, pushing her back with both hands. She was screaming now, her petite body jerking with each thrust. He slapped her ass some more, leaving big red marks on her pale, soft flesh, and vigorously took hold of her waist, knowing perfectly well he’d leave bruises, feeling pride at the thought.

She felt him withdrawing, turning her around to face him. She was a rag doll in his hands, unable to think for herself. Not once had she fought him, asked him to stop. She thoroughly loved being used by him. He could take whatever he wanted, right now. And he did: he bottomed out into her, making her howl, a throaty wail after her prior screaming, and pinned her down with his hips. His right hand lifted her leg up, allowing him deeper access into her cunt, and his left hand caught her throat. The surprise of his touch made her climax, her whole body shaking, her eyes rolling in her head, her back arching, her walls clenching on him. Thereby, he huffed and puffed as his own orgasm built, and swore profusely as he pulled out of her to come all over her belly and her breasts.

Both out of breath, they looked at each other, panting, completely spent. She saw a light in his eyes, hoped he would just collapse on top of her, and finally kiss her, but in an instant, his expression changed. He got up, tucking himself back in his pants, rearranging his clothes, smoothing his messy hair. And without one last look at her, he got out, his words slapping her face.

“See you at work tomorrow, Franken.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The day had been long, just like the rest of the week. She still couldn’t sit down without wincing. She couldn’t sit down at all the first day. And she had to wear a fucking turtleneck to hide the bite marks and the hickeys he had adorned her neck with. Her whole body was covered in bruises, purple finger prints on her wrists and forearms, on her hips, on her ass. She was raging inside, and he was there, working like absolutely nothing happened.

He did not avoid her, they still exchanged about the investigation, they had prepared a necessary trip to London. But it felt different than the week before, the week after that first night. Before, she had noticed his gaze, a furtive smile; once, he even had asked her if she wanted tea. But now, he was distant. Or maybe she simply wanted him to be closer.

She was angry about all the marks left on her, and she definitely would’ve preferred to be able to sit normally, but it was the way he left that hurt the most, and how he acted now. She wasn’t a fuck toy to discard after use. She didn’t want a relationship, she just wanted him to acknowledge her existence in a decent way. Say hello, and kiss her before, during and after making her climax like she hadn’t in a long, long time. She could’ve been nice to him too, reciprocate. Because whatever August Walker tried to pretend he was, deep down, he was human too. Probably. Or maybe he was just a psycho.

She could see some signs: the manipulation, the violence. She wasn’t sure about the lack of remorse or guilt. She felt he was wearing a mask, not just covering up a mistake. Doing what was expected of a cold, calculated man. But she had seen glimpses of humanity in him. He had grabbed a fantasy book left by Simon on his desk, and had smiled as if remembering the first time he had read it. She heard him hum to a song played on the radio while on a stakeout, thinking she was asleep. Not a robot, just a character he was projecting, for protection most probably. She could relate: she had tried that, but could never maintain it for too long. She still joked, she still cared. And she needed to come out for air after keeping a serious face for too long. Just like she could not let him get away with using her like he had, not without saying something.

So tonight, after sending Simon and Niklaas home, she confronted him. He was finishing the cold pizza they had earlier, mumbling about anchovies.

“How did that broom get stuck so high up your arse?”, she asked, a fake incredulous look on her face. He almost chocked on a tiny hairy fish, and he fumed.

“I’d really love to ear that story. Please, tell me how!” She batted her eyelashes, simulating fascination.

“I’m not playing this game with you…” He dropped the slice back in its box.

“No, of course not. I can’t take control of the conversation, that would belittle you, wouldn’t it?”

He remained silent, stood up and walked towards the door. Before he got there, she aimed and fired: “You lost control the other night.”

He stopped in his tracks, turned around.

“I did not.”

“Yes, you did. I had zero control, I left it to you, but you lost it anyway. If you had not lost it, you would’ve pretended. You’re a great pretender, Walker, that’s part of your job. But instead, you acted like a little boy who can’t help breaking his toys.”

“There”, she thought. He twitched when she called him a boy, almost catching fire. And right after, a flash in his eyes. Regrets. Just a hint, before snapping back.

“You enjoyed it.”

“I do like it rough, yes. But I don’t like being treated like a cheap whore.” She got on her feet, moved slowly towards him, stopping just an inch from his tall frame. “I’m not cheap in any way.”

Looking down on her, August wrapped his arm around her waist, resting his hand in the small of her back, drawing her closer to him. Almost tenderly, if it wasn’t for the hardening cock in his pants, rubbing lightly against her belly. He breathed in slowly, before what must have felt to him like spilling his guts.

“Let me take you out while we’re in London. For dinner.”

She pushed away from him, moving towards the door.

“No.” She got out of the office. “See you at work tomorrow, Walker.”

[kronecker-delta]

Farscape Nier crossover and ideas

Snippet (from 2017) Farscape/Nier: Automata --- Her room was a mess. Scattered parts of her uniform and other clothes piled along along the sides, kicked there when she came and went. Her personal books disarrayed, off the shelf and toppled over by her bed. She'd been putting off cleaning again and with the recent arrivals none of the operators could be spared to make up for her bad habits. None of that mattered at the moment. White sat in her chair, staring out into the void. A souvenir of her old days in the ground based resistance held in her hands. The framed picture of pair of androids seated on the still smoldering bulk of the ruined machine behemoth a memory of a simpler, happier time. A knock on her door brought her attention away from melancholy remembrance. Before she could compose herself and more sternly tell whoever had interrupted her what she had meant by 'Only bother me if there's an emergency' another knock issued forth. Followed by a voice. "Hey White? You in there?" She froze. She had so desperately hoped that it wouldn't be him. *** "I've never been here before," White said apologetically as their transport ship came down beside the small lunar outpost. A tiny thing, compared to the bunker. Even given the greater volume underground for secured data storage and backup generators. "No problem. First time I've been on the moon," he said, giving her a reassuring smile that didn't quite manage to look entirely honest. His frown returning as they stepped out of the transport, the boots of his pressured suit crunching into the light dusting of lunar sand that had covered part of the landing pad. "Feels like I should say something... 'Great leap for mankind and all that' you know. Hey, is the Apollo site still around?" "It is. If you want we could visit there Commander Crichton." "Just John... or Crichton. Being called Commander all the time feels weird," John Crichton said. "I know I'm the last human but..." "I-I understand," White answered. Keeping her own emotions deeply locked down as they passed into the fortified complex of the moon server. Past the scant few technicians and guards and into a dark room, nearly empty save for a single console located in the center. A black void engulfed the walls, impenetrable shadows, as the terminals and screens had long laid dormant. "So now what?" His voice echoed in the room, which must have been far larger than they had at first thought. Low clicks and whirs came from the bulk of the machine, the long slumbering physical access port awakening. Lights flashed along the walls and beyond them, racks upon racks of computer systems networked together awakening. A great screen before them coming on and displaying a stylized picture of a tree, long dark roots stretching out from its base. OVERSIGHT AND RECORDING SYSTEM VER. 2.01 SLEEPING BEAUTY ONLINE. CONFIRM USER PERMISSIONS NOW. "Commander White, YoRHa access S-Class security," White said. Looking to her side and adding, "As well as a guest." CONFIRM GUEST'S IDENTITY. "John Crichton, Commander in the IASA," John said. "Born... 1969. June 6th. If that helps any." The computer sat in silence for a long moment, not responding, the screen frozen as the loading bar seemed stuck in time. They shared a look of confusion, both android and human wondering if the ancient archive might have crashed and who was going to have to go out and ask the few technicians to help reboot it. Then the room came alight, a dozen more monitors online, the totality of it awake for the first time in forever. HUMAN IDENTITY CONFIRMED BASED ON HISTORICAL RECORDS. YoRHA S-CLASS SECURITY CLEARANCE SUBSTITUTED FOR UNRESTRICTED SYSTEM ACCESS. S-CLASS, SS-CLASS, AND HAMELIN ORGANIZATION FILES NOW UNLOCKED. GREETINGS COMMANDER JOHN CRICHTON. HOW MAY THIS SYSTEM AID YOU TODAY? "What... what's 'SS-Class?' There shouldn't be a level of security above mine." NEGATIVE. THERE ARE TWO. SS-CLASS, CONTAINING SENSITIVE FILES DEEMED TOO DANGEROUS TO BE KNOWN OUTSIDE OF THE ADMINISTRATIVE COUNCIL. AS WELL AS FILES REGARDING THE HAMELIN ORGANIZATION, WHICH WERE TO BE SEALED UNTIL SUCH A TIME AS A HUMAN USER ACCESSED THIS SYSTEM. "We do this so that the future generations will have the opportunity to judge us for our sins." "Who the hell was that?" John asked, shocked by the computer suddenly vocalizing. Producing the sound of some long dead man. Old and ill, his voice straining to make the words clear into the recording. DR. EUGENE ADLER, HAMELIN RESEARCHER IN DEMONIC ELEMENT MANIPULATION EXPERIMENTS. BY HIS RECOMMENDATION AND THE UN SPECIAL SECURITY COUNCIL'S AUTHORITY IT WAS FELT THAT KNOWLEDGE OF THE HAMELIN ORGANIZATION'S INVESTIGATIONS INTO THE DEMONIC ELEMENT AND THE 6-12 INCIDENT COULD NOT BE PUBLICLY REVEALED UNTIL THE CRISIS HAD PASSED. John looked to White, hoping she might be able to explain something, anything of what the computer had just told them. But she looked just as confused as he did. "Ah... Computer?" YES JOHN CRICHTON? "Define 'demonic element' please." DEMONIC ELEMENT: QUANTUM OBSERVATION REACTING PARTICLES BROUGHT OVER BY THE ENTITIES INVOLVED IN THE 6-12 INCIDENT. TWO VARIETIES WERE DETERMINED UPON FURTHER RESEARCH. TYPE I, WHICH CAME FROM THE ENTITY CLASSIFIED 'QUEEN OF THE GROTESQUE' AMONG NUMEROUS OTHER NAMES ACQUIRED FROM OBSERVATION DATA OF LEGION FORCES AND PRE-SUBLIMATION MEMETIC CORRUPTION OF WHITE CHLORINATION SYNDROME PATIENTS. TYPE I MATERIAL HAS BEEN REMOVED FROM THIS UNIVERSE FOR THE LAST EIGHT THOUSAND YEARS FOLLOWING THE COMPLETE PURGING OF IT FROM THE EARTH'S ENVIRONMENT. TYPE II CAME FROM THE OTHER ENTITY, CLASSIFIED AS 'A DRAGON' NO OTHER NAME OR IDENTITY DETERMINED. WHILE HIGHLY REACTIVE AND DANGEROUS IN LARGE DOSES IT WAS FOUND TO BE STABLE IN SMALL AMOUNTS AND TO LACK THE MALEVOLENT EFFECT ON INTELLIGENT LIFE THAT TYPE I MATERIAL EXHIBITED. EVENTUAL CONTROLLED EXPOSURE AND SYNTHESIS EXPERIMENTS LED TO THE CREATION OF FOCUSED MAGIC ENERGY EFFECTS AND SUBSEQUENT DEVELOPMENTS IN FIELDS OF NEUROLOGY AND META-COGNITION AS WELL AS NUMEROUS OTHERS. PROJECT GESTALT AND ANDROID CONSCIOUSNESS ARE BOTH LONG TERM SUCCESSES OF THIS RESEARCH. HIGH ENERGY MAGIC WEAPONS WERE ALSO ATTEMPTED BUT LATER SHELVED FOR BEING UNRELIABLE. AS OF THIS DATE THE AMOUNT OF TYPE II MATERIAL PRESENT IN THIS UNIVERSE IS ESTIMATED TO BE 63 METRIC TONS, OVER A HUNDRED FOLD INCREASE IN MASS FROM THAT OF THE ORIGINAL ENTITY BROUGHT ABOUT BY CONTINUAL SYNTHESIS AND ITS NECESSITY IN THE CREATION OF NEW ANDROIDS AND ALL CURRENT GENERATION MAGICAL DEVICES. THE ANDROID WHITE HAS 6 GRAMS OF IT AS PART OF THEIR INTERNAL SYSTEMS, MOSTLY RELEGATED TO META-COGNITIVE PROCESSES. "Wait... wait!" John yelled out, grabbing onto the unused console as he stared at the enormous amount of text that had just been displayed. More and more appearing on other monitors, going into greater detail about all sorts of absurd things. "What do you mean by magic? And dragons? What the hell happened to Earth?" THE 6-12 INCIDENT. PLAYING ARCHIVED DATA NOW... *** Crichton sat on the edge of her bed. Looking down at his hands, fingers intertwined. He hadn't spoken since White had stepped aside and ushered him in. Neither had she. She had wanted to be alone, and had hoped that Crichton would choose to spend some time with his alien friends. Or his semi-human lover... "You know, it's kind of funny," he said at last, a low chuckle that surprised White. He truly did sound amused by the dark comedy of his situation. "What?" "Well, when I first realized you were lying about something... after I got over the whole 'android' deal anyway," Crichton said, looking up from his hands to look into White's eyes. "I was so certain that the deep dark secret you were keeping from me was that you all went Terminator on the humans and than got ashamed about it." White found herself smiling despite it all. "I guess I can imagine why you would think that. Even if we don't all look like Central European bodybuilders from the Old World." His expression collapsed, going from amusement to a shock so profound it looked like a stiff breeze would have knocked him over. White found herself confused and then very worried. Had she said something wrong? Then he started to laugh, slow at first, but building into something that bordered on mania. Rolling onto his back and shaking in the hysterics. "Haha... oh god... you have no idea, no goddamn idea how long I've wanted someone to get one of my dumb references," Crichton sat up looking far happier than he had a moment ago, the levity of their absurd connection dispelling the melancholy cloud that had hung over them since their return from the lunar server. "Like I love those idiots on Moya, but being around aliens on the other side of the galaxy for a few years really makes you long for some normal human conversation." "I... I think I can understand. Somewhat. It must have been very lonely out there." "Lonely, terrifying, insane... beautiful too. Space is crazy like that. Full of contrasts so sharp it's stunning. I-I wanted to bring that back you know? Not just to get home, but to show what I had found out there," he said, pointing to the stars outside White's window. "I guess it's too late for that now." "I'm sorry," White said. Noting the strange look that Crichton was giving her now she hesitated before continuing. "I'm sorry we failed." "Failed? Failed at what? Stopping a magic apocalypse that had already started before the first androids came online? Which reminds me, we're going to need to do something about them later. Those twin models that someone had the bright idea to shoulder with some fucked up version of android collective punishment." Crichton leaned forward, massaging his forehead as he did so. "That's probably only the tip of the bullshit you're dealing with and here I come with a whole new mess of problems. Maybe it would have been better if I had never found Earth." "No! Crichton you-we can fix things. I know we can. Not just your presence here or for getting access to sealed archives in the server. The technology you brought with you. It very well might represent a turning point in the war with the machines." "And what about the Sebaceans... the Peacekeepers? The Scarren Empire? Or hell, even the Nebari Establishment? Better gravity control systems and two hundred year old ship scale energy shields won't stop a fleet if it comes knocking at our door." "We'll do what we always have. Try and protect Earth and mankind's legacy from any aggressor. Whether distant cousins that no longer remember their home-world like the Sebaceans... or these Scarrens you've mentioned so much. We won't- we cannot retreat from this fight. Not now." White clenched her fist tightly, the glove creaking as she set a firm expression on her face. "I promise you Crichton, even if the past is lost, we will make a future worth fighting for." Ideas: I've been thinking over the ideas of a Farscape/Nier crossover some more, coming up with elements, themes, and specific scenes that would be fun to explore and write. These are some of the ideas I've had in no particular order. 1. Androids in relation to the Last Human (Crichton). Crichton is a self-admitted sci-fi geek, not surprising for a second generation astronaut that grew up wanting to explore the stars. He straight up makes comparisons to how he attempts to handle alien encounters to be inspired from watching Star Trek. Given that I think his relation to the androids would develop in a certain direction. Once the initial shock of a) the amount of time passed and b) that these people he thought were human aren't passes, he wouldn't feel comfortable having an intelligent race acting subordinate to him. I can see multiple incidents where some variety of complex philosophical quandary or just plain relationship question from 6O results in him telling them that humans really didn't have a better answer. Long term this would likely take the form of a very serious conversation where he points out that Earth, and what of its culture and history still lives, isn't in just human, whether the dead ones or genetically altered human descended Sebaceans. Or even in any hypothetical offspring that he might have. Basically, 'Mankind' includes them, as they're what's keeping the memory of it all alive. Aside from some bonding scenes between various androids and Crichton as they go over bits of alien tech, one idea I have in particular is that he takes a tour of moon landing sites, including the one his father visited. Effectively the only place he will ever see any lasting evidence of that man in particular. And the reaction of his android guide (White perhaps?) as well as the Apollo 11 plaque cements his decision to change the way the androids view their relation with humans, at least in so much as he can. 2. 2B and 9S (and others perhaps). I think there's a lot of fun to be had in placing the androids into weird situations with the aliens, and even more so if for some reason they have to head off away from Earth for a period of time. Since I can easily see the plan being for them to lie constantly. Lie about being human, lie about the 'Glorious Terran Federation' which is totally a military power that we didn't just make up, lie about what they're capable of, lies upon lies as they try and deceive the Scarrens and the Peacekeepers and keep Earth safe from either side those aggressive powers. In general I think 'Androids pretend to be human to deceive aliens' is a good plot for lots of stories, and could easily be turned into a rather long plot. Since the androids wouldn't want to let Crichton head off to parley with these alien aggressors on his own. And he could really use all the help he can get for whatever crazy ass plot he comes up with next. 3. Aliens would want Android tech. Probably just Scorpius, but others too if they find out more about Earth. I hadn't realized it at the time, but there was a period of the show where the hybrid Scarren-Sebacean was working with Crichton, and that would be the perfect opportunity for him to learn something about the androids and Earth history. And being him, he would look at all this extra-dimensional BS and android super soldiers and see potential weapons. He'd probably be disappointed that the Queen's Maso wasn't around anymore and that Hamelin Organization stopped human testing after Emil, since it would mean he'd be working from scratch if he could just get back into the good graces of the Peacekeepers and do so with enough of the demonic element to set up another research base. Hell, he'd probably try to directly convince Crichton get the androids to agree to serve the Peacekeepers, since that would technically put them back into contact with 'humans' if genetically engineered ones. Arguing that he could get the entire remaining population of Earth a ticket off world (to a nice Peacekeeper controlled colony where the can serve their new military overlords) if destroying the machine lifefroms proved to difficult even with a few starships to blast them from orbit. 4. The Terminals. The central intelligence of the machine lifeforms would likely reconsider its direction of evolution far earlier with a living human to observe, especially one that tries so hard to avoid aggressive resolutions. Even if that doesn't work, Crichton's crew and allies proves that he has managed to connect and form lasting bonds with entirely alien beings over and over. A direct repudiation of what the machine network had thus far found to be the fastest way to accelerate its own growth. Whether this would lead to a quicker conclusion that it needs to escape Earth and find its own destiny, likely expedited by FTL tech it took from the androids once Crichton revealed it to them, or an attempt at some kind of allegiance against the various hostile powers of the greater galaxy is unknown. While I can easily see Pascal and various pacifistic or non-hostile machine lifeforms being taken into account as potential allies the actions of the terminals past and potentially present would form a barrier to attempted cooperation. 5. Allying with the Worm Hole Ancients. The aliens that gave John Crichton knowledge about worm holes in the first place did so because they were running from an unstated catastrophe that had destroyed their home world. They originally decided against direct contact with Earth because it was likely to be divided and hostile. 21st century Earth that doesn't exist outside of Crichton's memories. It would be very interesting to see how they might react to finding out the new status quo. I've got a couple ideas that might be fun with them. One being that their dimension/time traveling tech lead to them accidentally creating their own personal Watcher related incident and the subsequent self-inflicted annihilation of their home world to stop it from spreading to the greater portion of the galaxy. Creating a situation where despite their far greater technological adeptness they find a reason to deeply respect humans/androids for facing down and defeating what they truthfully could not, reclaiming their world instead of burning it and running. (Though I'm iffy on that alteration/crossover expansion as it sort of makes them more like the Stargate's Asgard.)

[transformers-trash-fan]

this is x reader

And WHOO Boy! This took FOREVER and not all of them follow your request sorry about that. I tried to make them all interesting and you didn’t ask for any Bots in particular sooo.....I kinda got carried away with it. Sorry for the lack of ‘Cons but I had no ideas. And personally I think some are better then others I hope you enjoy

I also apologize for any dash clogging this dose because it’s so long

Autobots

Optimus

He always knew that you were strong and he found it quite interesting and admired you for training your strength

That being said, he didn’t realize how strong you actually are. So when he walked into the base and saw you doing deadlifts with forge of Solus prime he was Understandably shocked and confused

After you notice him you explain that you were looking for something that was a bit more challenging then the weights at your gym but even such an artifact proved too weak to quell your boredom

Well first he asked you to not “play” with the large hammer anymore. And then he had you sent to Ratchet to figure out exactly how you can carry such a thing without breaking a sweat

Bumblebee

He’s seen you workout at the base and is always impressed has, and will watch you if he has nothing else going on

One day you’re looking around for something; so he asks you what you’re looking for

“My weights aren’t heavy enough so I’m looking for a substitute” you look up at Him.. “actually, can you transform for a second?”

He is Absolutely confused but dose it anyway because you’re his s/o obviously anyway he almost screams when he feels you pick him up

Buzzing like crazy, sort of scared mostly confused. Wait why are laughing... stop laughing and answer him...

“Please! You’re child’s play... you wanna see something really cool?”

Smash cut to you holding WheelJack, Bulkhead, Bumblebee, Smokescreen, and all the kids over your head just walking around like it’s nothing

Next time you and bee go on patrol you’re driving... or walking

Bulkhead

You, him and Miko were out on patrol in the mountains

And you know those two, so obviously you were listening to some hard rock with the volume all the way up, and the windows closed so not fun on your ears so you hopped out to walk for a little while

After you guys all got to a clearing Bulkhead transformed and told you and Miko to stay there while he went on. Because Raf said that there was a risk of a rockslide

Miko was still listening to her music when it hit an exceptionally loud drum solo which Miko played along with hitting some nearby rocks, loosening them directly above A campsite

You dove in front of the large boulders stopping them from rolling but you had already slid over halfway to the site.

By this time Bulkhead and Miko ran down to meet you Miko Freaking our a bit but when they got to you. You were sort chilling sitting on said boulders

Both Bulkhead and Miko were freaking asking you how you survived and how you moved the boulders

“ they weren’t that heavy, honestly I’ve carried worse” “WHAT?!?” “no way!”

They are both very impressed

Ratchet

He was busy doing (whatever he dose all day idk) and you were helping him... well “helping” as much as he’d let you

You kept telling him that you’d be more then capable to help but he just scoffed and continued to work.

so you were left to fiddle with whatever you could find eventually you got bored and decided to do some reading the only problem is that when you pulled your book out of your bag you dropped your favorite pen

So of course you climbed down to get it, but Ratchet didn’t notice so needless to say when he feels something pick him up he yelled causing you to stumble back and drop him

”don’t yell like that!” “Don’t pick me up!” It took him a few seconds to register what he just said and what the heck had just happened....”h-how?” “How what?” “How did you pick me up?” .....“Why did you pick me up?!?”

You just shrugged “my pen rolled and you almost broke it” he nodded for a second before he got a confused look again “but...how?” You shrugged again

Welp looks like you finally get to help! But this isn’t exactly what you ment you thought as Ratchet hooked you up to all sorts of monitors oh well... at least you didn’t hurt him

WheelJack

You and him were just riding around in the Jackhammer when a couple of ‘cons got on your tail. You two were able to escape unharmed but can’t say the same for the Jackhammer. The damage caused sent the ship spiraling into the base of a mountain

Thankful Jackie being a good pilot he was able to keep the ship from a crash landing... not that it was a good landing but nether of you were hurt

“Ugh; you ok (y/n)?” “Yeah I’m fine; You?” “A little banged up but fine. Can’t say the same for the Jackhammer though”

Jackie gets the door to open and you two walk outside to get a scale of the damage... it’s not good

“Scrap” “How are we going to fix this!?” “*sighs* well, I should probably start by movin some of these rocks pinning the wings” “We” “Hm?” “We should start moving the rocks” He chuffs “We? How exactly are you going even nudge one of those?” 

You just walk over to one of the rocks and pick it up and throw it past Jackie’s head

“Ok then!”

Deceptcons

Megatron

Of course the one time you ask to go with megatron to Check on an Energon mine is the time when the Autobots get the bright idea to show up

(Long chase and fight scene later) You and megatron get corners in part of the mine by Optimus

Obviously you don’t really wanna be on the receiving end of the Prime’s blade

You grab the biggest rock you can comfortably hold and chuck it at Optimus with all your strength.

The impact and shock from what happened knocked Optimus a few steps back

That moment of Distraction was enough to allow Megatron to nail Optimus into the wall before transforming and escaping with you in tow  

He’s thankful that you helped him, though he probably won’t tell you for a while

Definitely has Shockwave examen you

Shockwave

He observes you working out in his lab... you seem to do it all the time

He obviously already knows how strong you are so watching you work out causes him to ask questions

“Since you are already quite powerful, why do you work so hard to increase yourself so little?”

“Because it’s fun?”

.....

“Your actions are....  illogical”

[pandemiclaughter]

Rambling about MIL her anxiety, parkinson’s

Some of the most frustrating conversations are with those who are in the very beginning stages of dementia, super stubborn, riddled with anxiety, angry, and sprinkled with some passive aggressiveness on top for extra fun.   Then I’m going to make this communication even more difficult by letting my rambilng ADD tell you about these difficult encounters. 

(warning---you may just want to skip this one---if you do, but want to have an idea of what this is about here’s the basics of the post:  

The basic facts from this crazy non-linear explosion of words is my MIL believes she truly is going to run out of oxygen to breathe in the air. And how she went from telling me she has never had anxiety to she has lived with anxiety her whole life.)

MIL (in her 80s with Parkinson’s) does not have good balance, she can not stand for many seconds without support. She is always freezing.  When we first moved in here she would run blow dryers on her bed all night. She said it was to keep her warm. But now through much more dedection---they were also white noise to help with her anxiety. 

So we have moved to no longer using the bed as potential kindle.  It took her a few months to learn to use an app for white noise sound (damn when they upgrade the app---she stopped using it and went back to a CD--but was mad because it was a different CD player). We got google dot to work for a bit, but then she would tell it to play things with a limited time.  She also refuses ocean sounds--because ocean sounds make you pee.  (I get how the sound of a trickling stream may make you want to pee--but crashing waves---dear God, how forceful is your urine?)

So back to her freezing.  We got a nice little heater in there, with a thermostat and a timer.  Hubby went and turned “off” the vents--(these vents are from the 70s and they do not really close). One vent under the bed, the other behind the dresser.  Both I would have a really hard time getting to. 

Hubby and I came in the other night to help her with her sleep sounds again.  And he notices her vents are open full.  

First we asked her how---because with her balance---(We’ve had one fall since we’ve been Coronateened--thank GOD she didn’t hurt herself). So she’s like, of course I opened them---I didn’t have enough oxygen in here. 

Wait---her room is the largest room in the house---master bedroom with a door to the outside, windows, regardless--run out of oxygen--how do you run out of oxygen---she’s not in a sealed box. She continues to tell us that the oxygen runs out at night and she can’t breathe.  Hubby and I try not to laugh--explain she will never run out of oxygen in the air--and the air conditioner is not bringing in more oxygen. We ask her please, if she wants her vents opened or closed to come get us--because we really don’t want her falling.  (I still can’t figure out how she got them opened.)  This is the same woman who refuses to walk on grass--because she will fall and refuses to walk down the driveway--without someone watching her.  She’s riddled with these weird beliefs (it runs in the family--hubby’s sister is afraid to eat meat if the white and the dark meat have visibly touched).

Later, another time, I try to talk to her about her episodes at night and in the conversation explain they might be anxiety attacks she is feeling.  I ask her what has worked for her in the past for her anxiety attacks. Now this is the same woman who usually gets excited about being ill--but she hates that I use the word anxiety. 

MIL: I have never had an anxiety attack. I don’t have anxiety. 

Me: Ok, but didn’t you used to take Xanax daily? 

MIL: Yes. 

Me: Ok, why did you take Xanax daily?

MIL: That’s because I taught school and kids are stressful. 

Me: Ok, but didn’t your doctor just recently stop filling your prescription? Just in the last year?  (she’s in her 80s)

MIL: That’s because he said it’s not good for my health and I could fall.   (ok--I know kids are stressfull--but I’m pretty certain that you weren’t still stressed years after teaching---but I don’t go there.)

Me;  So was there anything else that you did to help when you were more stressed out?  I mention how she was doing well after starting Zoloft, but over the last couple of weeks she hasn’t been sleeping, she seems on edge,  maybe wanted to talk to the doctor about upping the dose.  (What I really want to tell her is I need you to get your anxiety in check, because it’s starting to set off my anxiety something awful.  We have had conversations about my anxiety it has helped opened up some discussion--and also that her 3 children all have it too.  i know some of this is people just didn’t talk about anxiety before---or I guess she didn’t?)

(this is the sweet lady that only gets mad at me---well and her oldest daughter. Before we moved in, I had never heard a harsh word--I knew she got mad at her oldest daughter, but since I have moved in---she really saves getting mad for me instead of her oldest daughter. her relationship has gotten better with her oldest---and I try to remember that when she gets mad---I would love for someone to be the buffer between me and my Mom, if this was my Mom, so I could enjoy having a better relationship.  My husband---the baby of the family and only son of an Italian family---he can do no wrong---still to this day.  If she is even slightly upset with him---she will still direct it towards me or his sisters)  I digress.  

MIL:   SHAUNA--- I HAVE HAD ANXIETY MY WHOLE LIFE, I just live with it. And I never needed more than under a mg of xanax---i’m already on 50 mg and that’s just too much medicine.  And I’ve never had an anxiety attack.  (ok---at least we have moved from never having anxiety---that was quick) 

(all who have known her feel like she took xanax more than once a day---she used to be zoned out and chill a lot--we have really wanted to see if edibles could help--I know I’ve seen some great things with the parkinson’s too---and if I am right---it could be a mixed bag with anxiety--becuase it can increase the paranoia---but maybe that’s a full edibile?---maybe the CBD only stuff?  I need to look into it more---we still live in the most strict---weed is bad state). But willing to help her too--if it will help. 

Me:  (I give up even trying to compare/contrast Xanax to Zoloft dosages.) Have you ever thought of deep breathing when you feel like there is no oxygen in the room?

MIL: That won’t work.

As this cycle of conversation contitued she opened up to hearing about breathing exercises, tells me about how she has used them before and used to have a CD on them,  and then was shocked again about the fact they could be on youtube.  

She’s always shocked we tell her she can find things on youtube.  We possibly always take it a bit too far hubby tells her how she can learn to make a pipe bomb or find naked old men to watch, if she wanted.  I can’t think of all the crazy things hubby tells her she could do on youtube. I’m surprised we haven’t had a visit from the governement. 

 She has learned to do her daily Parkinson’s workouts and other therapy through youtube. I also connected her with a therapist online (she swore she didn’t need one of those--but thank goodness for them.).  I will have to remember their name--great company and really reaching out to the elderly during this pandemic time.  But they seemed like a good company before this time---I’m glad. They also check in with the patient’s family members to see how they are doing and relay things back and forth and also help the children with their aging parent. 

Then we are back to square one---she doesn’t want help with anything---so showing her these breathing videos---that takes a couple more days. 

I forget how much time she takes.  And sometimes I just need a break, so me needing a break extends some of this time too. And how did you teach school, but also believe you can run out of oxygen in a large, ventilated room?  I get these worries aren’t logical---but sometimes they just hurt my brain. 

Rambling end for now. 

[antman-56]

The Real Deku

After the recent attack at UA by a new group of villains, Midoriya got hit with one of their quirks. It didn't do anything to him immediately, so everyone assumed he powered through it subconsciously.

The morning after came and everything seemed to be in the norm. He woke up, did his morning routines, and left his room.

On his way to the Common Area he stopped by Kaminari and Mineta.

Kaminari : Hey Midoriya, feel any better?

Mineta : You better have! Mt. Lady and Midnight gave him so much attention!

Midoriya (holding the bridge of his nose) : Shut up Mineta. If you weren't such a constant pervert then maybe some girl would like you. But hey that as likely as likely to happen when Bakugo turns nice.

Both Kaminari and Mineta jumped at his response.

Kaminari : Jesh Midoriya, you wake up on the wrong side of the bed or something?

Midoriya : I don't know did you ask out Jiro yet?

Kaminari was lost for words making sounds to respond and Mineta was on the verge of jumping Midoriya.

Both of them have never seen him like this.

When they finally able to respond he was gone.

***Common Area***

Class 1-A (excluding Bakugo) were in the Common Area. It was a mix of people doing homework, making plans, or just generally hanging out.

Kirishima (excited) : Hey Midoriya how are you doing?

Midoriya (smiling) : Fine. I just needed some sleep.

Kirishima : Yeah, I bet after you took that hit yesterday. Anyway enough about that, what did you get for . . .

Kirishima notice Midoriya was not paying him any attention. He followed his gaze and saw him starring at Sato.

Midoriya (yelling) : Sato shut up with your slurping!! It's not a Ashido!!

All conversations turned to a halt. Everyone couldn’t believe what they heard until the turned to the source.

Midoriya : I get you need the practice but do it in your dorm room not in fucking public.

Sato (yelling) : How do you . . .

Midoriya : The way you rubber neck.

Everyone didn't know what to say. Their defined cinnamon roll had finally grown a back bone and it was pissed.

Sero : Dude what's your problem?

Midoriya : I don't know, hows the hole you been trying to carve into the girls changing room?

Class 1-A girls : What???!!!

Sero : DUDE!!! WHAT THE HELL!!!

Jiro : No "What the hell" him! Where the fuck is the hole you made or so help me recovery girl won’t be able to heal you.

Midoriya : Jiro your no better. You made one in front of Kaminari locker.

Jiro (blushing) : No I didn't !!!

Midoriya : Then stop being a Tsundere and ask the idiot out.

Momo : Midoriya please what’s the problem? Have you eaten?

Midoriya (extends arms) : And now the insecure princess speaks for her subjects.

Jirou : That dose it you green bastard.

Jiro began to walk to Midoriya, cracking her knuckles. 

Midoriya : And the musical closet jumper comes into play. Ready to defend her Sugar Mommy.

Both Jiro stopped in her tracks and blushed.

Momo (slight blush) : Midoriya please, think before you speak.

Kirishima : Dude stop. This isn’t manly!

Midoriya : Your no different from Jiro, so shut up.

Kirishima was eyes opened wide. How he found out?

Tenya : That’s enough Midoriya! Apologize to everyone! They don’t deserve this kind of treatment!

Midoriya : Tenya this is an A and B conversation so C your way out! 

Tenya : Midoriya!

Midoriya (Mocking his voice): Midoriya you need to sit correctly, Midoriya you must iron the plates alphabetically, Midoriya you must shit this way. Just shut up.

Midoriya left the Common Area in a huff right before anyone was able to fully registered what had happened.

***Outside***

Uraraka : Deku! Deku! Where are you?!

Uraraka left to find him almost immediately when everyone began to argue. When he left everyone began to have a new opinion of him. Some say to support him defending himself others to get him back to being to shy beta male.

She continued her search when she spotted a fuming Kendo and preaching Monoma from Class 1-B.

Kendo (clenched teeth)  : That sneaky little . . . green haired . . .

Monoma : What did I tell you!  What did I tell you! Everyone in Class 1-A only thinks about themselves.

Uraraka : Hey, I'm guessing you guys just talked to Deku.

Kendo (fuming) : Yeah, and would you like to explain to me why he said I was a failure of a class representative and a . . .

Monoma : You Class 1-A students are all the same.

Uraraka : Just please tell me which way he went.

They both pointed at ground Beta where she saw a series of explosions.

She began to sweat, knowing the source of those explosions will be getting a shock about the new Deku.

***Ground Beta***

Bakugo was on top of a rooftop panting. He training to perfect two new moves he just developed, albeit just to his AP Shot deadly and controlled.

That's when he spotted Deku.

Bakugo : DEKU!!!!

Midoriya looked up to see Bakugo on a rooftop looking down at him.

Midoriya met his gaze, turned around and started to walk away.

This made Bakugo furious.

Bakugo : HEY!!! Why did you come here you nerd? Did you come to see what an actual hero!!

Midoriya : If I did the trash can is a few feet away.

Bakugo : WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY!!!

He jumped of the building to meet Midoriya. When he hit the ground, he made sure to make a big explosion upon impact, leaving him in the center of the crater.

Midoriya : I said your less than trash.

Bakugo ; THATS IT!!!

Bakugo jumped into the air and caused a series of explosions to increase his speed to Deku.

Midoriya saw the attack and used All for One: Full Crowl to kick Bakugo in the face.

It sent him flying into the nearest building.

Bakugo got back up after the attack and was dumbfounded. Deku was faster. Obviously dumb luck. It won’t happen again.

Bakugo got up and blew charged at him with the intent to kill. He saw Deku go for another counter but he was already ahead of him.

Bakugo blew himself out of the building and right on top of Deku. Bakugo was now blowing himself up higher into the air. When he though he was high enough he began to focusing all the nitroglycerin in his right hand to focus into a ball. He than let it a volley of smaller balls at Deku. 

Midoriya began to cover himself when he saw Bakugo firing at him. After a few seconds nothing seemed to happen, no explosions were heard and he was fine. When he dropped his guard he noticed all the balls of light around him.

AP SHOT : HELLZONE!!!!

What followed was all the balls exploding around Deku. 

When Bakugo landed began to admired his handy work. He was so caught up in his premature victory that he didn't feel the first punch connect with his nose.

Deku let out a barrage of punches and kicks onto Bakugo without break.

Bakugo finally recognized his was being attacked. He also noticed that he was faster and stronger then the last time they fought. He was barely able to block every third hit.

A swift kick to Bakugo's side was the breaker of his defense.

It sent him to a railing on the side of the practice road.

Everything was hurting for Bakugo and he knew he wouldn’t last long. He was not going to lose to some useless nerd much less Deku.

He sent an explosion to gain some distance from Deku. He then concentrated all his fire power into the palm of his hands to form a ball and he slowly clashed his hands together.

AP SHOT : DEATH BEAM!!!!

What happened next was a singular line of pure destruction coming at Midoriya.

Midoriya quickly put One For All into his legs to jump. Unfortunately he did not come out unscathed. Everything below his knees were burnt but not to the point where he couldn't walk.

He crashed onto of a rooftop and after struggling to get up he was able to observe what he just avoided.

It split the fake city into two. Their were no buildings, street, or any of the fake props they used.

Bakugo : I WIN !!! WHOSE THE TRASH NOW HUH!!!!!

He turned around to leave until he felt a kick to the back of his head.

Bakugo blacked out as soon as contact was made from the unexpected force to his head. He laid their on the ground motionless and defeated, but Midoriya wasn't done.

He turned him over and started to viciously pummel him and yell in between his punches.

Midoriya : You . . . Piece . . . Of . . . Shit!!! . . . You . . . bullied . . . Me . . . Beat me . . . Turned . . . Everyone . . . Against . . . Me . . . I HATE YOU!!!!!

He continued punching and screaming at him till Uraraka finally got to him.

Uraraka : Stop! Deku! Stop!

She ran to him and held his arm right before he was about punch Bakugo again.

When she looked at him he was crying.

Midoriya (breathing)  : Why? This is the "Thing" that ruined my life.

Uraraka (still holding his arm) : Because that's what heroes do. They don’t cross the line, no matter what.

Midoriya : I’m not a hero.

He added more force to his arm, even though Uraraka was holding his arm. He was about to make Bakugo blind in one eye before Uraraka screamed.

Uraraka (closeing her eyes) : Punch him and were through!!!

He stopped before his fist made contact.

Uraraka (slowly crying) : If you hurt him, we aren’t friends anymore.

She was now in tears. This is not her Deku! Deku was nervous, kind, passionate, forgiving, generally a nice person.

This Deku scared her he was merciless, harsh, and cold and HE was not HER Deku.

Midoriya could feel Uraraka crying harder on his arm. He dropped Bakugo and hugged Uraraka.

Midoriya : Uraraka . . . I'm sorry.

He was now crying for a different reason. Instead of remember the torment that his bully of an idol brought him, He was crying that he almost ruined the best thing that every happened to him. That he almost lost his first true friend. 

Midoriya kept saying "I'm Sorry" as he cried into Uraraka's arms and she in his.

In that instance a small whisper was made 

"I love you".

***The Next Day***

Class 1-A had mixed feelings for Midoriya.

They half of them thought he snapped and was turning into another Bakugo. The other half wanted to encourage him to become more spoken but agreed he need to change how he did it.

They also heard what happened between him and bakugo. Some of his classmates were now afraid of him others were proud. But the way he left Bakugo was something they again agreed on that was too far.

A broken nose, broken jaw, 5 broken ribs, a dislocated shoulder, broken forearms, and a concussion. The scariest part was that he was almost put into a coma from the amount of blunt force his brain suffered.

Momo : Midoriya is turning into a rage induced dilequent!

Jiro : He's just an asshole Momo.

Tenya : That is no way to address a fellow classmate!

Toru : He made fun of you!

Tenya : And I forgive him because he is my friend.

Mineta : He was a jerk and that's who he is now.

Mineta tried to scoot in between Momo and Jiro and put his arms around them.

Jirou used her earjacks to stab his eye.

Everyone began arguing about how they would treat Midoriya because of yesterday’s events.

Shoto : Wasn’t he attacked by a weird quirk the day before?

That got everyone's attention.

Tsuyu : He's name was Maskless right?

( Present Mic : "Maskless" , his quirk is called "Truth" ,  he can released a odorless pink gas through his fingertips. The gas itself is able to turn off the inhibitors in the brain that are responsible for lying. He can turn a frined into a foe real quick depending on their true feelings and how long they have been with that person.

Aizawa : Mic what are you doing?

Present Mic : Well I ...

Aizawa : I don’t care just do it quietly. I’m trying to sleep.  )

Shoto : He got Midoriya point blank range and he just powered right through it. A fatal error on his part. And on us as his friends.

Mina : So, it could be the villain’s quirk to blame, is what your saying?

Shoto : Its a possibility.

The part of Class 1-A that was against Midoriya started to regret what they said about him. He probably had no control over himself and they were just taking about abandoning him.

Tsuyu : Uraraka what do you think?

Tsuyu knew what happened at ground Beta. She stalked Uraraka using her camouflage when she left the Common Area to find Midoriya. She would have made herself know sooner but they needed their moment.

Uraraka : I don't know what to think. He is Deku and will he always be Deku.

Tsuyu patted her on the back, hoping she will get her answer.

Kaminari (loud whispering) : Guys he's coming!!

Midoriya walked into the Common Area, yawning and stretching. When he entered he was surprised to see everyone was quiet and staring at him.

Midoriya : uh . . . why is everyone staring at me?

"MIDORIYA !!"

They all cheered and rushed him.

Kaminari : How are you doing man?

Sero : Feeling antsy or . . . ?

Midoriya : I'm fine, I guess I was out yesterday.

Shoto : What do you remember?

Midoriya : The villain attack and that's it. I'm glad we didn't have class yesterday, I had the weirdest dream.

Everyone couldn't believe it. He doesn't remember anything yesterday.

Only one person didn't believe it.

***End of Day***

Midoriya was on the rooftop of UA dorms, looking at the sunset.

Uraraka : Why did you lie?

Midoriya : Agh!! You scared me!

Uraraka : You didn't answer my question.

Midoriya looked away from her and continued his gaze on the scenery.

Midoriya (ashamed) : Because I meant everything I said.

Uraraka wasn't surprised. Even the kindest people have their limits and when they snap it's an atom bomb.

Midoriya : Are you mad?

Uraraka : No, I get it. You were tired of smiling like nothing is wrong.

Midoriya : Are you going to tell the others?

Uraraka : No. Because that wasn't the Deku we all know and love.

She walked over to him and gave him a side hug. She rested her head on his shoulder and he rested his head on hers.

They stood their in silence, they just enjoyed the sunset and each others company.

////

I want to thank @razorblade180 creation of the prompt. I wanted to make something that was able the match my reaction whenever I read his stuff. I recommend his stuff, they are amazing and I want to thank him for giving me inspiration to start posting stories of my own.

[lady-o-ren]

Just Between Lovers - Valentine's Day

Chapter One / Chapter Two / Chapter Three / Chapter Four / Chapter Five / Chapter Six /  **Christmas Special**                                                                                                                                    

A/N: 1) I had some trouble getting JBL Claire's voice back so I'm pretty sure this is an even more heightened version of her than usual. Sorry. There's also a few nods to past chapters for fun. 2) Don't think too hard on the timeline here. This could all be from a time of yesteryear that never was, trapped in a raindrop…to a puddle…then a fall...

****

For @tuethat who has been so wonderfully kind and lovely to me ❤ I can never thank you enough ❤

And I hope this early Valentine is entertaining for all of you who have stuck with this story.

****

It was the day of St. Valentines.

Just another day for the indifferent, with their suffering roll of twitching eyes to all the blinding displays of love blasting red and rows of heart shaped discounted chocolates. Waxy, inedible, spit to the dirt kind, with a curse to oneself for being tempted to foolery yet again.

Where lonely hearts disavowed all celebration with a single (triple) downing of liquor. Be it cheap wine that promised to dribble down your shirt resembling a sloshed dog or golden divinity that could purge the quivering heartache to a slowing, heavy beat. Blood warming, coursing, churning hot in the belly, stroking desire just below. Shooting to a stinging burn of mouth, cooled with a gasping breath of deliverance, going back for another touch of fleeting affection.

Then there were the lovers.

A time to come together to forget how much you annoyed one another with a drooping rose bouquet, petals torn and missing, curling yellow at the edges. A chocolate box all too familiar with it's yellow sticker scraped away. Reservations for the same restaurant as the year before but with a different girl who got the better of him and you the lesser.

Sometimes the day delivered a proposal of lifelong commitment hidden away in a goo of chocolate, your fingers smeared sticky sweet in discovery as curious (intrusive) glances waited to slap their hands together as you contemplate a future dripping like shit.

Or one beaming of promises everlasting, a ring held by a man conjured from a true elsewhere of lochs, glens and rolling heathered hills. The dark hours of my escape, dreams turned reality...

And if James Fraser ever dared to do so in front of an audience with mouths agape, phones in hand, mine would fall down low twisting on all that dangled dear.

He wouldn't though...

That was another day. A different time…

This Valentine's however, we found ourselves sheltered from the chilly downpour outside to the snugly warmth of indoors with greasy takeaways piled high. Forks clashed leaving a loser ruthless, fingers tasted, bitten, tangled in curls as lips wandered, tracing the lines of veins to throbbing heated pulse, food spilling without a care.

Better than any meal over candlelight...until a turn of events left him overly concerned and me frustrated.

Now, Jamie's attention was squarely on a game of tight shirts and shorts, muddied and bloodied, as I  laid molded, body and soul, on my side across the couch, legs atop his lap. I was left to rest unbothered until a moment of triumph on screen where I was rewarded with his hand under the hem of my dress to cup and knead the swell of all that he held dear. A dip in the score, however, was a hard digging grip, leaving my skin pink, and he a knock in the ribs.

If only I could move.

My sore arse wasn't enough to propel me to violence. I felt weighted to the soft blue cushions, feeling an increasing kinship with the sluggish disposition of sloths. But even they had a somewhat lazy grace about them. I settled for a hiss of Jamie's name and a scoot away from his bruising touch that on any other day would have been welcomed and reciprocated, depending on my mood.

I could see a blushed mark of that mood glowing at his neck.

“Did I wake ye, Sassenach?" Jamie, all glimmering dew eyes and red waves of proper dishevelment, finally tilted his gaze my way having the bloody nerve to look innocent and damningly attractive. I didn't trust it.

"I was never asleep."

"So that was yer arse I heard?"

My foot went for his gut, while the other sought a snap of fragile bone between his well muscled thighs. Jamie easily caught both, locking my legs to submission, then slapping me on, "That fine, sweet rrrump", taunting its size so pleasurable to his eye. But before my fists could avenge my honor he gently turned me, bestowing a penitent kiss, warm with a breath of an apology tickling my bare and tender skin. A face of love brightening his features, crumbling my resolve to be cross with him.

Bastard

My face, an open invitation to every scant thought, spoke wordlessly with Jamie. His bawls and cock were safe and would remain perfectly intact. Perfectly so.

A continued assault of peppered kisses had me giving in completely, breaking in laughter, pulling him by the scruff of his shirt as I was feeling tremendously better with each dose of his soft lips. With a sweet splitting grin, Jamie kept himself where he was, instead placing his hold at my hips, thumbs pressing circles into the protesting joints that had me mewing a satisfied sigh that reddened the tips of his ears like a well pleased faun.

He leaned forward with a press of his devotion at my belly, where his breath seeped through the fabric leaving my breasts puckered in habitual anticipation for a higher aim that never came.

“Are you still tender, mo nighean donn?" Jamie's burr, a heavy cadence so close to my skin, traveled up my spine, loosening the rest of the knotted kinks that had shortened our earlier amorous efforts.

"Not if you keep on with thaa - Ah! lower Jamie -" He did, a soothing touch of reverence that went on and on down to my ankles and back where they started, stirring a hunger in me. Again.

Embarrassment must have stained my face as he flashed me a two-eyed wink that always left a flutter in my chest, a giggle suppressed.

"Och, I'll dig around the fridge for something to feed ye."

"There's nothing in there. I looked." Nothing and everything appealed to me and I was exhausted by the waves of cravings.

"Did ye check the crisper?"

"I refuse to bend that low." I gave Jamie an accusatory cutting stare, where the response I received was very much the sting of male pride as I rubbed the reason why and of his thorough doing. Maybe his cock wasn't so safe, but damn him for rising my pulse.

"I know. That's where I hid a certain wee box for ye."

I sat up with such speed my furry sloth kin would be envious.

"Christ, Sassenach! Ye'll jostle my wee lad." Jamie's palms went to settle whatever upheavel he imagined our child suffering, with a care that made me outstretch my touch to his stubbled cheek, finger trailing down to his chin and back.

"Yours is she?"

A proud Scottish grunt was pressed to my palm. "Ours." A kiss at the small round of my belly once more was given with a coo of gibberish my heart knew well. "A voracious wee fiend we have. Gets that from me and I beg yer pardon on our child's behalf -as he yet can do much but kick."

"An impatient wee thing too." My hands joined his in a caress of our love, rings of silver, a sparkle of diamond, catching the budding bright starlight lighting the room.

"I'm afraid yer to blame for that, Sassenach." He chuckled as I lightly swatted at his arm to get to his legs, a long stride that cut my admiration for his chiseled physique that started at his broad shoulders and lingered on his jean clad arse and thighs.

"Shall I bother with a plate?" He called from the kitchen.

"Serve me only a slice and I really will pummel you." I knew it had to be raspberry tiramisu thay would be devoured no matter the regrets. Embarrassment left behind.

"Ye sound mighty confident of my surprise for ye, mo ghràidh. Two forks? Or am I to lick ye off?"

"What do you think, love?"

Jamie was back before I could cackle off my teasing with his own restrained hunger eyeing me like the fat hen I felt.

"Damn the forks then."

"Aye." Was my squeaked reply, lost as his mouth met mine, creamy and sweet, tart from berries, the sneak having already had a taste.

But as he carried me (us) away I didn't really give a damn…except…

"The tiramisu, Jamie."

The plea was smothered in another kiss that burned my lungs, parting briefly, starved for air, only to crash him back to me.

He didn't forget.

[everythingisgayandnothinghurts]

Before and After

Steve’s world is all about after the serum was given and after he woke from his time in the ice.  What if he was forced to live the before, even just for awhile?

This is inspired by @whumpitywhumpwhump post about asthma and how terrifying it is so I decided to write this little thing.  Well, it was supposed to be little anyways.

When Steve woke his room was dark and he could only see darkness outside his window as well.  He blinked heavily a few times and ran a hand through his hair to try and wake up a little more.  He remembered vaguely that the team plus Bucky had gone out on a mission that afternoon.  Hydra had been causing problems and as usual they were the ones to interfere before it got out of control.  

His heart stuttered in his chest.

This time had been different.  They had been expecting them to show up and almost eager to see them.  The fighting had been difficult, even for him and his beyond normal capabilities.  One of them had gotten the upper hand on him and before he could throw the guy twenty feet away from him he had been injected with something.  He remembered the fear that had shot through him when he realized a needle had pierced his neck.  The memories it brought back had been unpleasant to say the least.  

He had actually cried a bit when Bucky had found him frozen in place.

Whatever he’d been injected with must have knocked him out for the rest of the day and they had left him to sleep it off.  Steve smiled at his knees when he heard dishes being washed in the kitchen and slowly the hum of TV filtered in.  Not everyone had left him of course.  Buck would never leave his side like that.  Hell, he would probably leave him to fend for himself despite the fact that now he could lift almost twice his body weight.  

He made a displeased sound when he swung his legs over the side of the bed and the room spun for a moment.  How did they find something strong enough to still affect him after so many hours?  Bruce couldn’t even give him anything to last more than four, despite trying for months now.   He brought a hand up to his head and closed his eyes to try and get the world to stay still long enough for him to figure out what was going on.

“Hey, you’re awake,” Bucky slowly eased the door open and his face lit up when he saw Steve awake.  “You’ve been out for about nine hours.  It’s nearly midnight.”  He wasn’t so casual when Steve made another sound of alarmed displeasure and dropped his head fully into his hands as he hunched over the side of the bed.  He felt sick to his stomach in such a foreign way that it was almost frightening.  Since that serum he hadn’t been ill and nothing had really affected him physically.  His body had been through beating after beating and he had never felt this awful.  “Steve?”

“I’m…” Steve wanted to tell him he was fine, but fear was clogging his throat.  This was so stupid.  There was nothing to be afraid of.  HIs stomach being upset was perfectly reasonable when he’d been given a heavy dose of some drug.  “What did they drug me with?”

“Bruce didn’t have any conclusive results to tell us.  He figured it was some kind of tranquilizer to get you out of the fight.” Bucky knelt in front of him and had both hands on his knees.  “How are you feeling?”

“Sick,” Steve admitted softly as he swallowed a few times.  “That must of been one hell of a tranquilizer then.”

“You feel dizzy,” Bucky’s hand came up to brush through his hair and over the hands already cradling his head.  

“Dizzy and have a headache,” Steve confirmed as he tried to shake off feeling so off.  “I’m sure I’ll be fine.” He made to stand and immediately was weak in the knees.  Bucky hurried to catch him before he hit the carpet and Steve felt the fear increase.  What the hell was going on?

“Take it easy Stevie,” Bucky’s voice leaked of concern as well and he tried not to let it alarm him further.  “Let’s stay in bed, okay?  You hungry or anything?  You haven’t eaten all day so I’m sure you’re starving.  Tony brought up some sandwiches around dinner for you to have.  Or I can make you whatever you want me to.”

“Just stay,” Steve said in a voice that could barely be heard.  He tugged Bucky close and felt his eyes drift closed again.  The other man quickly got the hint to climb in bed with him and cradle him close.  

“You just need some rest, Doll,” Bucky told him softly with a soft kiss to his head.  “Today was a rough fight.  Nobody came back from that without a few bruises.  They came after you the hardest.”

“I don’t get sick,” Steve said quietly and felt his eyes sting.  What the hell was going on?  “I mean, ever.  After eight hours I should be healed just fine.  It was just some drug.  They didn’t even really hit me.  I spent four days with Tony when he had the flu and I didn’t get so much as a sniffle.  I feel… I feel funny.”

“Shh,” Bucky hushed him gently with a hand tangled back in his hair.  “Tomorrow you’ll be fine, okay?  Get some more sleep and the morning will bring a better day.”

Steve was too exhausted to argue that point so he let himself fall asleep and pretend that nothing weird was going on.  

He woke before Bucky the next morning and was relieved when his symptoms did seem to be better.  He felt a bit sluggish, but other than that he was fine.  He got changed for his morning run and made some breakfast for himself.  He was full after only three eggs, which was unheard of, but maybe it was part of his recovery.  He quickly put on some shoes and went outside for his usual run.  Soon enough he was on the familiar streets of the city and everything was fine again.  His fear had been for nothing after all.  

He thought that for about twenty minutes before the fear came back ten times worse.

He felt his chest getting tight about ten minutes into his run, but he figured his lungs just had to wean off the last of that drug and pushed on.  He could run for at least a couple hours before his body showed any sign of weariness.  He had made it almost to his familiar streets of Brooklyn when he passed a construction site where work was actively happening for a change.  He waved to the guys, too out of breath for a real greeting.  He slowed to a jog but that wasn’t enough for his body to catch breath again.  He started to cough as the tightness grew like a rubber band had been wrapped around him.  

He knew this pain.  He had had it so many times growing up on these streets with construction and all kinds of stuff in the air.  He could hardly walk to school without using his inhaler once back in the day.  He leaned a hand on a brick wall next to him as he seemed to be unable to suck in air to his lungs.  He felt like he couldn’t breath and like the dust was choking him.  This didn’t happen to Steve Rogers, better known as Captain America.  This hadn’t happened since coming out of the ice.  

The pain grew and his breathing got worse, bringing him to his knees.  The fear crashed over him in a tsunami tide now as he fought to suck in air.  He fumbled for his phone in his pocket and dialed the person he called the most.  

“Did you seriously go running after the night you had?” Bucky offered instead of a greeting.  “Nobody is going to blame you for laying in bed one morning of your life.  Super soldier or not you are allowed rest and relaxation.  I had plans for-”

“Buck,” Steve got out as tears streamed down his face.  He didn’t care what he looked like right now when he could hardly suck any air in and he felt like he was suffocating.  “Bucky.”

“Steve?  Hon, what’s going on?” BUcky’s voice turned sharp and serious in an instant.  “Are you alright?”

“I can’t breathe,” Steve choked out as panic crept over him as he said it aloud.  “Asthma.”

“Asthma?” Bucky repeated, bewildered.  “What the fuck?  Steve you don’t have-”

“Bucky,” Steve sobbed his name again as he clutched his chest.  

“I’m on my way to you,” Bucky assured him and Steve could dimly hear doors slamming as he made good on his promise.  “Stark can track you or whatever.  Take a deep breath Steve.”

Steve tried to and it hurt like hell.  His chest was burning and he was getting dizzy from lack of proper oxygen.  “Can’t.  It h-hurts.”  

“I know it does,” Bucky said, sounding in nearly as much pain as he was in.  He heard Bucky saying something frantically to someone else.  “We are on our way, okay?  I’ll see you in just a few minutes.  It’s gonna be okay I promise.”

Steve let the phone go limp to the ground and tried to hold onto the thought of Bucky coming soon.  He could get him through this if it was asthma.  God knew he had more than enough practice.  The number of times he had forgotten his inhaler as a kid was staggering.  He really had had no self-preservation skills.  

Loud footsteps gave him seconds of warning before both Bucky and Tony were in front of him.  He was having a full blown panic attack by now and his head was throbbing in pain.  Bucky didn’t hesitate a moment before maneuvering behind him and tugging him close to his chest.  

“Okay, okay Stevie I’m right here.  We got this down to a science now, hm?  Follow my breathing, okay?” Bucky’s hands were rubbing his shoulders gently as his chest moved slowly and deliberately.  

“W-why is this happening?” Steve gasped out as he tried to follow instructions.  The alarm wouldn’t leave him since it had been so long and it should be impossible for this to be happening at all.  

“Steve, we’ve got you, alright?” Tony said steadily.  “I may not have asthma, but panic attacks are my specialty by now.  We’ll get you through this.”

“I brought this,” Bucky showed him an inhaler that Steve had no idea existed.  The plastic was pressed to his lips and Steve felt a smidge of relief as the medication miraculously hit his lungs.  He coughed a few more times and it seemed to take forever for air to reach his lungs properly.  

Steve curled against Bucky’s chest as the pain ebbed away to a bearable level, though the fear was still there.  Tony was holding his hand and looking concerned and kind.  It was a surreal experience and he hated being seen crying like this.  He felt like a kid all over again and it wasn’t the best feeling.  

“Feel any better?” Tony asked quietly after long minutes of the three of them sitting on the sidewalk.  Steve nodded and squeezed his hand tightly.  “I’m sure that was terrifying.  It’s been decades since you had to go through that, right?”

“What is going on?” Bucky asked quietly as he rubbed his back.  “Steve doesn’t have asthma.  He doesn’t have even a hint of it.  He was out of it last night after the drugs had been his system for over nine hours.  Something weird is going on.”

“It looks like something they gave him messed with the serum,” Tony speculated as he rocked back on his heels and stood.  “Let’s get him back the Tower and away from the construction.  It’s probably what set him off in the first place.”

“Don’t even think about it,” Bucky warned as Steve tried to stand up on his own.  “You just worry about getting air into those lungs.  You need to take it easy until we figure this out.”  

“I’m sorry,” Steve apologized softly as Bucky scooped him up in his arms.  A kiss was pressed to his temple softly.

“Darling, you don’t need to apologize at all.  This isn’t your fault,” Bucky assured him quietly.  

“I should have taken it easy.  Should have known something was off,” Steve said hoarsely before breaking into a round of coughs.  

“Take another puff of your inhaler,” Bucky instructed and already the Tower was in view.  He really hadn’t gotten far when he had collapsed.  Steve fell quiet and let his head rest on Bucky’s shoulder as they quickly approached the Tower.  This whole thing made him feel oddly helpless.  He could remember in the days when Bucky was constantly with him in case he got in trouble with other boys, or his breathing, or anything else he could find.  He would have died at least five times over if Bucky had never been his friend.  He had truly forgotten how terrifying asthma attacks were until now.   He didn’t want to go back to those times now that he knew a world where breathing was done without thinking.  How could he be an Avenger with asthma?  Without the serum who was he in this new world?  He had had a hard enough time finding a place in it as a superhero.  What use would he be as just peaky Steve Rogers?

He was quiet as Bucky settled him in a bed and Tony went to see if Bruce was free to see him.  He felt small now and he wasn’t used to feeling that way.  He had become so used to being the guy that saved the day time and time again.  Of feeling useful and powerful for a change.  

“Steve,” Bucky said as he sat next to him on the bed.  The quiet rumble of his voice caused the tears to come back as Steve realized that his hero days could be over and he would go back to being nobody again.  It wouldn’t matter so much except all of his friends were on the team now.  He had nobody outside the Avengers.   A hand came up to cup his cheek as a thumb wiped away his tears.  “What’s the tears about, babydoll?”

“What if Captain America is over?” Steve asked in a quivering voice, staring at the white sheets.  “What if I’m not a hero anymore?”

“I’ll sleep a ton better,” Bucky muttered as a joke, but it fell flat when Steve didn’t so much as smile.  “So what if you aren’t a hero?”

“My whole life is here,” Steve said miserably.  “I don’t have a place out there.  If I have to leave I don’t have anything.  I don’t even know where I’d live or-”

“Steve,” Bucky interrupted him and made their eyes meet.  “Nobody in this tower loves you because you can throw cars around, alright?  If whatever Hydra did to you really did take away your powers nothing will change with anyone here.  Your home is here, with me for good.  Okay?”

“Why would you ever question if you belong here?”  Tony cut in as he stepped in the room.  “Capsicle, you’re stuck with us no matter what goes on.  That much I can promise you.”

“Yeah, yeah I know that,” Steve muttered as he held Bucky close.  

“Let’s get some answers, yeah?” Bruce cut in as he shrugged on his coat and stepped into the room

It didn’t take long to conclude that Hydra had indeed tried to mess with his powers.  They were trying to take them out from the inside instead of fighting them.  Steve was their first target.  He wasn’t sure if he was horrified or honored by that.  Bruce, genius that he is, had a plan to get him back to full strength, but it seemed like he would have to lay low for a few weeks.  Steve already had a feeling the number of missions were about to increase dramatically in that time.  

But he would come back stronger than ever sooner than they’d think.  

[sage-nebula]

((DO NOT reblog this, or I will delete the post and block you, thanks))

I’m doing . . . a bit better. I think. Maybe.

It feels a bit hard to say, because I crashed . . . so hard on Thursday. I was on a decline ever since the week before, but it was like a . . . slow decline, you know. A stuttering one, where I was maybe digging in my heels to try to stop that from happening because I had been doing so much better (I made a post about that and everything!), and I wanted to keep doing better. I wanted to be okay. But then Thursday happened, and my depression crashed on me hard, and ever since then I’ve been trying to claw my way back up with what feels like limited success, really, really wishing that my doctor had increased my dosage of Lexapro when he had the chance (though neither of us could have predicted this happening).

But this vague rambling probably doesn’t explain much, huh.

Basically, if you haven’t been paying any attention to any of my tag posts: The week before last, my very good friend (who was also my boss and mentor) of nine years took his own life.

I feel, or have been feeling, in many ways responsible. Everyone I talk to about this says that I’m not, that it wasn’t my fault. But he had been confiding in me over the past few months about the difficulties he was going through. At one point he said that I was his only friend that he could talk to about this (which I’ve since learned was apparently not true, but that’s what he told me). But there was a period of a couple weeks where I didn’t check in with him to see how things were going because I was sorting through my own issues with my panic attacks, and adjustment to the Lexapro. Then, the very night that I made a post about how much better I was doing, he took his own life. I just felt . . . responsible. I felt like I could have, or should have, done more. The guilt was not helped by the fact that I knew it was suicide even before I was told. While everyone else said, “I never saw it coming,” to me, I . . . I didn’t know he was doing that badly, I didn’t know that was a real risk, but I also wasn’t surprised because I knew how much he was struggling. I knew, and yet I wasn’t there to help him. I didn’t check in with him, because I was so busy focusing on my own issues. That made me feel guilty. That made me feel responsible.

But I was still trying to keep on top of things. I was still trying to keep moving forward, because I knew that’s what he would want, anyway. And then Thursday happened, and . . .

Basically, on Thursday, his family held a memorial service for him, which of course I attended. And while I was there, I met and talked with his mother. And she, unprompted, told me in graphic detail exactly how he took his own life. 

And I couldn’t handle it.

I lost it completey. I know it was rude of me, and I know it must have looked terrible to her, but I ended up having to give a quick “sorry” and bolt from the scene. I felt like I was going to either throw up or pass out, or throw up and then pass out. I stayed at the event for a little while longer, because I had other friends there, but while everyone else went out for drinks, I went home. I couldn’t be out anymore; I still felt precariously close to the edge. But when I went home, I didn’t accomplish anything. I tried playing a couple different games, but I couldn’t concentrate on any of them well enough to actually play (it was like I was staring at the screen without actually seeing it, resulting in a lot of deaths). I couldn’t write, because I couldn’t muster up the will to think of words. I ended up marathoning eleven straight episodes of The Good Place because I saw Netflix had the first season and I didn’t know what else to do. I cannot express how strange it is for me to sit there and watch a television program for that long in one sitting. Ordinarily my attention span doesn’t allow for it. I usually only watch things when I’m eating, because I have to be multitasking like that in order for my brain to be able to tolerate it. But that night, I just sat there and stared. I did process what was happening in the show, and smiled a little at the jokes, but that was about the extent of it. I crashed that hard. It was like my brain straight up blue screened. 

And I’ve been trying, with immense difficulty, to recover ever since.

Friday was spent in a daze much like Thursday night, even though I was at work and had stuff to do (and even though the afternoon is when I usually talk with my bff SB, but I could barely muster up the energy to do so and I felt so bad). The main difference is that there was some crying, and also some random bursts of anxiety or anger that quickly faded back into depression. I was so goddamn depressed. I was depressed enough so that I could actually say “I’m super fucking depressed” because I recognized that for what it was. I didn’t want to do anything. I felt completely exhausted. I had those bursts of anxiety or irritation, as I said (mostly related to people bringing up Voltron to me, given that there’s literally nothing that could redeem that show or Joaquim / Lauren in my eyes and it’s still a source of upset to me, yet something “big” happened on Friday and so everyone wanted to talk about it), but mostly I just felt like my emotions had completely crashed out and hit bottom. I couldn’t muster up the energy for anything. When I got home I tried playing games, but I don’t have new ones to play and won’t until August, so it felt like there was nothing for me to do. Critical boredom and critical depression, and my very good friend / mentor was still dead.

But Saturday was a little easier. And today has been a little easier, too. I’m still not at 100%, or even close to it. I think I’m maybe at . . . 65%? 70%? But I’m slowly . . . slowly climbing my way back up. I’m still completely exhausted, still wish I had a stronger dose of Lexapro, but I’m climbing my way back up. And what has really helped me is having friends who have checked in on and supported me, and let me know they cared. I felt bad about not being a fun conversation partner for my bff SB, but that was due to my own feelings making me feel bad, not anything she said or did. SB has been unconditionally supportive, compassionate, and caring toward me through all of this. We talk every day and she’s been there for me through it all, despite the ocean between us. And I have other friends, too, who sent me messages to check in and offered to talk if I needed it; who sent me puppy gifs and pictures to try to cheer me up; who stopped by my desk at work to see how I was doing on Friday, and to reiterate time and again that I could talk to them if needed; who, after hearing what happened, asked me if I was safe. Having those friends who checked in like that, or who have been supportive like that, has helped. I might not be at 100% yet, but it helps having those friends there.

Anyway, I don’t know, there’s no real point to this. I just wanted to get it out of my head. Sometimes it’s better to have things like this out of your head than to let them rot in there. (And also, if I’ve seemed off to anyone lately, this would be a good explanation as to why.)

(once again, DO NOT reblog this, or I will delete the post and block you. thanks.)

[alphahormones]

New Ways To Lose Weight During Government Lockdown

Are you someone who has done nothing but just sat back, relaxed, and eaten to your heart’s content throughout the lockdown period? 

Are you still doing the same now that the governments have once again asked us all to stay at home? 

I get it - you are afraid of gaining weight, or the worst outcome: you already have put on a lot of weight after the Holiday Season. And now, you are worried about what to do and how to lose weight so that you can return to your normal weight or even shed off a few more pounds?  Don’t worry, we at  Alpha Hormones® are here to help you all. With our safe, and effective weight loss programs, we have got you all covered. Here, we have compiled new ways to lose weight. Of course, weight loss doesn't happen overnight - it takes time, consistency, and a strong mindset to keep the extra pounds off. 

And even when you have lost weight, it does not mean that you go back to munching all that sugary goodness and fried deliciousness . Certainly not. You have to keep a strict check on what you eat so that you do not overload your body with unhealthy calories.

New Medication Combination For Weight Loss

Along with optimizing your hormones and treating the metabolic cause of the weight gain, certain medication can help you lose weight. However, there are many side effects associated with any medication, and so it is always better to start them only after you consult with a medical provider.

Orlistat

It is an anti-obesity drug, indicated for people who are overweight or have the tendency to put on weight just after they have lost it. Orlistat prevents the fat-breaking enzyme from breaking fat down only so that it could be passed out in your feces, and not get absorbed into your body. But, it only acts on fats, and therefore, you need to keep a check on your other nutrient-intake as well. Common Side Effects: Bowel disturbances and oily stools

Acarbose:

This is an anti-diabetic drug that is used to control high blood sugar levels and is recommended to be taken along with following a strict diet and exercise schedule under a medical provider supervision. Acarbose can  also be used for losing weight by slowing food digestion helps keep blood glucose from rising very high after meals. It helps people achieve a state of satiation - a feeling where a person feels as if he has had his full meals and needs no more. This helps, in a very modest way, to lose weight over a period of time. It also helps to regulate the appetite and hunger mechanisms, which leads to an automatic control in both these things, preventing you from overeating.   Common Side Effects: Gastrointestinal discomfort and low blood sugar

Naltrexone (Low Dose):

Naltrexone when taken in low doses has a significant impact on weight. It modulates the appetite, thus preventing overeating, and also reduces insulin resistance, which might be indirectly causing a person to lose weight. It is also seen to increase growth hormone levels in obese people, thus accelerating their metabolism and causing them to put on muscle mass. It can be a very good option for all the weight-watchers, only if taken in low, controlled doses.  Common Side Effects: Dizziness and nausea

Role of Alpha Hormones® - What Do We Do?

At Alpha Hormones®, we combine these three medications for weight loss along with diet and exercise plans in our Wellness App. This is your chance to step towards living a guilt-free, healthy, and balanced life. The App has been designed with great care and will assure you that your journey towards losing weight will be a healthy and balanced one. We understand that our clients might have different demands and requests, and our App has been made to take care of all your queries and make losing weight a worthwhile experience for you.

We do not recommend you to start using any of these medicines on your own will - rather, we would recommend you to book a ‘Weight Loss’ consultation appointment with us. In this appointment, we will guide you in detail regarding all the ‘Pros’ and ‘Cons’ of opting for one of our weight loss programs, and suggest to you what is the best option available for you.

Non-Medical Ways Of Losing Weight At Home

These methods are easy to practice and you can achieve success by trying them out, what is required from you is one thing only: Consistency. If you are consistent and patient enough to reach your goals, you easily can in a few months. So, without further delay, let us look at what we can do to lose weight and appear smarter in a healthy way!

Types of Intermittent Fasting

Intermittent fasting is a relatively simple and quite easy way to lose weight. It is the best option for beginners, and the best part about it is: you can arrange your schedule in any way that appears convenient for you! What more could one ask for? In intermittent fasting, you train your body to adapt to a ‘fasting’ state. When our body goes into a fasting state, that is, when we stop eating or drinking anything, it starts breaking down the stored fat bodies inside itself to release energy. This is because the food we eat provides us with energy, right? So, when there would be no food going in, obviously we would feel drained and tired, and to help us, our body will start using the emergency ‘energy’ stores which are nothing but fat stores. And when fat is broken down, what happens? It is burned and our body is left with lesser and lesser amounts of fat. This, in the long-term, helps us lose weight easily. There are different types of intermittent fasting which you are allowed to choose as per your convenience:

16/8 Fasting: This type of fasting allows you to consume food only at specific hours. The ‘16/8’ method is the most popular mode used by people, in which you are allowed to eat for 8 hours in a day (say, from 12 PM to 8 PM), after which you will have to fast for 12 hours straight. It is easy to adapt, and hence, the majority follows this mode of intermittent fasting.

Alternate Day Fasting: In this type of fasting, a person is asked to eat whatever he wants to for one whole day, and for the next day (24 hours), he has to observe a fast throughout the day.

Periodic Fasting: Also known as the 5:2 fasting, in this type of intermittent fasting, a person fasts for a maximum of one or two days, and enjoys a fast-free interval for the rest of the week. But calorie restriction is to be practiced in the fast-free period. 

Even though intermittent fasting might appear easier than it sounds, it requires a strict check and balance of your calorie intake. Our Wellness App can help achieve your fasting state.

High-Intensity Interval Training

No diet or calorie-restriction method is going to help you unless you put your muscles to use in burning fat. High Intensity Interval Training (HIIT) is one such type of workout in which you have to alternate between periods of very high-intensity exercises and low-intensity resting or ‘cooling out’ periods. The motive is to engage in a full cardio robust, which in turn helps you to lose weight. New study found that 5-10 minutes of HIIT exercises (i.e., burpees and jumping jacks) makes you los weight faster than doing 30 minutes of low or moderate intensity cardio exercise (i.e., walking and jogging).

By opting for ways that suit your lifestyle and being consistent with them, you can very easily lose weight healthily. There is no need to go for “Crash Diet” options as they can cause more harm than benefits.

Conclusion

Now that you know some of the new medical options for weight loss you should schedule an appointment to see an Alpha Hormones® medical provider. Opting for our treatment will not only make you lose weight, but would also promote you to adopt a healthier and active lifestyle. So, what are you waiting for? Book an appointment today!

Schedule Appointment

References

Hauner, H., Petzinna, D., Sommerauer, B., & Toplak, H. (2001). Effect of acarbose on weight maintenance after dietary weight loss in obese subjects. Diabetes, obesity & metabolism, 3(6), 423–427. https://doi.org/10.1046/j.1463-1326.2001.00156.x

Rynders, C. A., Thomas, E. A., Zaman, A., Pan, Z., Catenacci, V. A., & Melanson, E. L. (2019). Effectiveness of Intermittent Fasting and Time-Restricted Feeding Compared to Continuous Energy Restriction for Weight Loss. Nutrients, 11(10), 2442. https://doi.org/10.3390/nu11102442

Drew, B. S., Dixon, A. F., & Dixon, J. B. (2007). Obesity management: update on orlistat. Vascular health and risk management, 3(6), 817–821.

Atkinson, R. L., Berke, L. K., Drake, C. R., Bibbs, M. L., Williams, F. L., & Kaiser, D. L. (1985). Effects of long-term therapy with naltrexone on body weight in obesity. Clinical pharmacology and therapeutics, 38(4), 419–422. https://doi.org/10.1038/clpt.1985.197

Hong, K., Herrmann, K., Dybala, C., Halseth, A. E., Lam, H., & Foreyt, J. P. (2016). Naltrexone/Bupropion extended release-induced weight loss is independent of nausea in subjects without diabetes. Clinical obesity, 6(5), 305–312. https://doi.org/10.1111/cob.12157

[mrsprescott]

I love you, Nathan Prescott

Prompt: (y/n) finds Nathan bleeding in the hallway after Warren beat him up and there a price to pay. She makes sure of it, because no one fucks with her Nathan.

Genre: Angst?, fluff

(Y/n) sighed and checked her phone. She had just sent yet another text to her boyfriend, and he hasn’t even read it. Usually, when he didn’t respond to her it meant one of two things. Nathan was mad her for whatever fucking reason he came up with in that head of his, which she hoped wasn’t the case, or he was having another one of his breakdowns, which she really hoped wasn’t the case. She even made sure that he had taken all of his pills before she left, so if all was as it was supposed to be he wouldn’t be hearing those god awful voices. Hell, she helped dose out pills for the rest of day, and the rest of the week. She just couldn’t stand the thought of those voices getting to him. Well, getting to him more than they already had.

She glanced at the time and decided that she better just go to the boy’s dorm to check on him. She picked up her new camera, the one Nathan had bought her as a gift just a few days ago, and placed the strap around her neck. She pushed herself off of the ground and looked at the rest of her friends. “Guys, i’m going to go head over to Nathan’s. Text me if you need anything.” She smiled at them and Victoria smirked in return.

“Remember to use protection, (y/n). As absolutely gorgeous as your babies would totes be, I am far too young to be an aunt.” Hayden along with Courtney and Taylor laughed, but (y/n) simply shook her head with a smile. “Fucking shut it, Vic; but you’re right. Our babies would be fucking gorgeous. Seriously though, catch you guys later.” The smile on (y/n)’s quickly started to fade the closer she got to her destination. She popped her knuckles and decided that she better start to mentally prepare for whatever she was going to be walking into.

If the reason was one of the two she was thinking of, she was fuck either way for a little while. Best case scenario she’d walk into a pissed of Prescott’s room where he’d probably scream at her for half an hour and she would have to figure out why. However, with the camera around her neck that time would probably be cut in half. He loved seeing her in his gifts. Partially because she rarely ever would allow him to buy her anything (something Nathan both loved and hated), and because he was insecure. Always thinking some other guy was going to steal her away from him. It always calmed him down she showed she was still his.

Worst case scenario Nathan would be having one of his episodes again. (Y/n) prayed to about ever god she could think of for him to not be in one of those. She didn’t think she could handle seeing him with a razor blade in his hand and crimson lines on his wrists, or his arms again. His life was already fucked up enough and he didn’t need anymore reminders of that on his body. She also couldn’t imagine him accidentally cutting too deep forcing her to live in a world without him.

Her pace increased to a jog and she felt the colder than usual air nip at her cheeks. “God damn it, Nathan. Please just have fallen asleep.” She thought to herself. Her throat felt dry and she could feel her heart pounding against her chest. She was so focused on getting up the steps to get to him she didn’t see the group in front of her until she crashed into them.

“I am so,- wait. Chloe? What the hell are you doing here?” (Y/n) demanded, her arms crossing over her chest. “Now i’ll be damned. Little miss traitor (Y/n) still remembers my name. This her Mad Max. She is the one that I told you about. The one banging that psycho Prescott.”

“Watch your fucking mouth, Price. Don’t call him that.” (Y/n) spat as her eyes narrowed.

“Or what, huh? Gonna get that punk ass boyfriend of yours to tell his daddy on us? Well i’m already expelled so I don’t give a damn. Or are you just going to walk away again like you did when you abandoned me and Rachel?”

“I didn’t abandon anyone, Chloe. I just started dating the person that I love. Rachel was fine with it Chloe, the only person who had a damn problem with it was you. I would have loved to help you pay whatever the fuck you needed to pay, but instead of coming to me like a friend you broke my trust and hurt the person I care more about than anyone at that last party. So do me a favor, and get the hell out of my way so I can go see him.”

She pushed past the blue haired girl but before she could go through the doors, someone grabbed her arm. She spun around and looked at the person stopping her from seeing her Nathan. “What the hell do you want, Max?”

“(Y/n), he drugged Chloe at that last part. He is a monster. She told me everythi-”

“Did she also tell you that she flushed all of his pills down the nearest toilet so he couldn’t get to them that night? Or that she spiked his drink with molly and god knows what else to get him so fucked up he had to lean on her to get home because he couldn’t even walk right on his own? Just so she could steal all the money she needed to pay off the drug dealer that, spoiler alert, Rachel enjoyed fucking more than you? She didn’t, did she? The only monster here is Chloe, taking advantage of and trying to steal from the mentally fucking ill because she is a selfish and irresponsible bitch. So fuck off Max, and take your boy toy, and that lying whore with you.”

She stormed past them and into the hallway. The blood that was still boiling within her froze with what she say. There was her Nathan, lying on the ground, bruised, bloodied and beaten. She rushed over to him and dropped to her knees. “Oh my god, Nathan.” He was crying and shaking floor. (Y/N) gently placed her hands on his cheeks and brought his head up to rest in her lap. “Nathan, please look at me baby.” His watery eyes cracked for a moment to register who was in front of him. As he did, the water works seemed to start back up all over again.

He hid his face by tightly pressing it into (Y/n)’s stomach and hands were clutching at any material he could on her. “(Y/n) i’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. Everybody hates me, they hate me.” He sobbed into her. The tears and the blood mixed, leaving a stain on her light green shirt that would probably never come out. She ran a hand through his hair and did her best to comfort him. “Shh, Nathan that isn’t true. I don’t hate you, Vic doesn’t hate you. We both love you so much, baby. She doesn’t call you her brother for no reason.”

(Y/n)’s words didn’t seem to help much though as he continued to repeat those words over and over again. She let him stay like that for a good ten minutes before she told him she was going to take him to his room. She pulled him to his feet and wrapped his arm around her shoulder and hers around his thin frame. The height difference made the walk a bit awkward, but they managed to make it. She pushed the door open and they stumbled in and she placed her camera on his desk. After she shut and locked the door behind her (Y/n) allowed them to collapse on his bed. Nathan was on top of her, face hidden away in her chest, and arms wrapped around her much like they were earlier. His eyes finally started to dry but her hands continued to rub soothing patterns on his back.

“Who did this?” “That bitch Caulfield’s whimpy ass boyfriend.” (Y/n)’s jaw clenched. Until now, the girl Victoria dubbed the ‘selfie-ho of Blackwell Academy’ hand never really been on her radar, neither had the boy that followed her around like a lost puppy. Now however, both of them were at the top of her shit list with Chloe. If there was one thing that you didn’t fuck with of  (Y/n)’s, it was her boyfriend. She saw red, and she felt the anger bubbling up inside of her. She took a deep breath and reached over for her boyfriend’s headphones.

“Here, put these on. You should probably get some rest.” He agreed and she slipped them over his ears. She pressed play on his whale song recording.  She waited until he finally drifted off to sleep to pull her phone out of her pocket. She clicked on her messages and started typing.

You: Vic, I need you to come to Nates asap, Bring your keys to get in, doors locked and he is asleep on top of me.

Vic: Damn, (Y/n). Pretty kinky, don’t u think? Not really into Nate like that,,,

You: This isn’t a fucking joke, V. Nate is hurt.

Vic: Fuck, okay, Leaving now,

In just a few minutes (Y/n) heard the lock starting to turn. Victoria quietly came in the room and eased the door back shut. She took a seat on Nathan’s couch and looked at her friend in concern. “What the hell happened, (Y/n)?” “Something that I am about to take care of. I need you to stay here in case he wakes up and needs something. Okay?” “Yeah, anything (Y/n).” The girl carefully slipped out from underneath her boyfriend and leaned down to give him a kiss on his head. “(Y/n), are you sure you don’t need Hayden, or someone to go with you?”

“Yeah, Vic, i’m sure.” She walked to the door and was halfway through before she looked back. “Before I go, would you happen to know where our resident selfie whore and her boy toy are?”

“Main campus. They have something to do with this?” “He did do it. What’s his name.” “Warren Graham. He is going to be sorry, so is that bitch Max.” “Got it V, see you in a little bit.”

(Y/n) walked quickly, her hands already balled up into fists. She spotted them, laughing it up in the parking lot. She was never really one for violence, but they crossed the line first, not her. She made her way up behind them, and then she tapped on his shoulder. “Warren Graham?” She asked in her sweetest voice. “Yes?’ he replied and started to turn his head. That’s when she hit him square in the jaw as hard as she could without him expecting it. All it took was that one punch, and he was down.

“What the fuck, (Y/n)!” Chloe yelled pushing her back. “That is what that son of a bitch gets for Nathan!” She yelled, pushing her back. “Nathan fucking deserved it-” “And how you feel if someone did that to Rachel even if she did deserve it Chloe? Huh? You’d flip the fuck out just like me.” Max stepped in between them and yelled at them to stop.

“Don’t fucking touch me, Caulfield.” She pushed the girl’s arm off of her, and when she did that it caused a phone to fall out of her bag. Nathan’s phone. She quickly snatched it up in her hands, and looked at the two.

“If you two ever come near Nathan again, I swear to god you’ll regret it for the rest of your miserable lives.” She spat, before turning to leave and once again make her way to her boyfriend’s dorm.

“Why didn’t you rewind, Max?” “Because you lied to me, Chloe. That is what happened at the last party, isn’t it?” “Max-” “Save it.”

***

(Y/n) took one last deep breath before she walked into his room once again. He was still asleep. Good. She said goodbye to Victoria and settled back down next to him, smoothing his hair back. She hoped Chloe had finally gotten the hint. She wrapped her arms around his borderline to thin frame and held him close. She needed to start making him eat more, but that was an issue for another day. “I love you, Nathan Prescott.” With one final kiss she drifted off into the sweet escape of sleep.

[all-thingsstrange]

Incident in the Cabinet

O’Malley and Jekyll, part 3 of 3

Part 2 here 

Adding the tag list here: @distance-does-not-matter @lavinia-love-official @writer-grandma 

_____

It had been another fortnight, and O’Malley’s warning was proving true.  We were nearly out of the salts necessary to return to my normal state.  I had sent Poole out earlier that day with an order for Maw’s, my last act before being forced to revert.  

Now Hyde was pacing up and down the length of the cabinet.  He had nothing better to do.  He was bored, to put it lightly - he was made to be freedom itself, and yet here he was trapped, unable to go outside for fear of the police.  I watched from the mirror, from his own face - heavy, dark brows, and beady black eyes - while remaining still and quiet, seated in a reflection of the desk chair.  I watched him with a mix of pity and disgust.  Disgust, for obvious reasons, but pity because… because I realized the more detached I had become from him, the more attached he had become to me.  

I had long since given up my need for Hyde, and yet he still needed me.  This was as close to caring for something as he had ever come, and it did pain me to watch his captivity despite my indifference to his fate.  He did resent me for that indifference, for the horror; and yet he passionately held on to me from the necessity.  He was, perhaps, even more upset over the use of the last salts than I was.  He was exposed, even in here; if any of the household besides Poole were to find us, it would be doubtful whether they would believe that I yet lived.  And even Poole, should his quest fail, might break his oath to wait until he was certain I was gone, and fetch either Utterson or the police.  

There was nothing that could be done about that, however, not without the salt.  And so he paced, and I watched, and we waited.  He, with increasing urgency, and I, with long-drawn resignation.  We passed several hours like this, before he turned on me sharply, taking me by surprise.  

“This is your fault, you know,” he growled.  I blinked back at him, wondering what stray thought had ignited his temper.  

“How so?  You are the one who killed Carew, not I.”

The calm in my tone only enraged him further, which should not have surprised me.  “Only after you tried to keep me locked away like an animal!”

“So you retaliated by proving yourself to be exactly what I wanted to contain?”

He stalked up to the mirror.  I was still halfway across a room from him, but he was as close as he could manage to get.  He jabbed an accusatory finger at me.

“It got your attention, didn’t it? And if that girl hadn’t seen it -”

“And what would your response have been? Kill the girl?”

Before he could confirm what I already knew, a knock came.  He whirled, turning first to the door to the inner court, anger evaporating to make way for hope.  But Poole neither called out nor entered, and the knock came again… from the side-door, near the street.  

“Jekyll?” a voice asked, and Hyde knew it instantly.

“O’Malley,” he hissed without thinking, backing slowly away, looking longingly toward the door to the inner court but well aware the household was easily as dangerous as the man outside.  We could simply stay put, of course, but Hyde’s fear was as unmanageable as his anger.  

Adam’s knock came again, louder this time.  “Jekyll, are you in there?”

It was all Hyde could do to keep a strangled “yes” from his throat.  Adam had never seen Edward Hyde, but he would know that the voice from within wasn’t my own.  Fear of discovery, then, kept us silent.  Besides, I could hear Hyde reason without words, the door is locked.  He can’t -

The doorknob started to turn, and wasn’t stopped by the lock. Cold horror sang in every part of Hyde’s being, and he searched for an exit.  Finding none, he dove behind the armchair I kept by the fire, peering out only to observe the tall man entering the chamber.  

O’Malley had one hand in his pocket as he gazed around, and held a key in the other.  Hyde cursed me in his heart, and with good reason.  I had left the key in the same place for years, after all; Hyde’s copy was not the only one that existed.  It was, however, the only one I had destroyed, all those months ago, when I first determined to leave him behind forever.  

Hate for me was shoved aside to make way for terror as Adam’s eyes met his.  Wordless, Hyde pulled himself behind the chair, pulling his legs to his chest to make himself smaller, if that was possible.  He trembled as the floorboards creaked under Adam’s feet.  He winced and braced himself, fearful yet resigned as though he stood upon the gallows.

Several painfully long moments passed between the last footstep and Hyde finally opening his eyes to find himself still alive.  He looked up, slowly, wondering what the devil possessed O’Malley to break what was to Edward a very blunt oath to kill him on sight. There was a question mixed with his fear as he met Adam’s eyes, but both were nearly drowned out in a flood of rage when he recognized an emotion lingering behind Adam’s white eyes as he looked down upon what most would consider a soulless villain.

It was my fault, really, that he associated the pity in Adam’s eyes with disgust.  I knew it to be pity for a rejected creature - not a kindred spirit, quite, but from the little Adam had said about his own creation, it suddenly occurred to me that he might sympathize more than a little with Edward.  But Hyde only understood pity in the context that he was something inferior, something to be looked down upon.  It was almost enough to cast away the terror he held of O’Malley and elicit a challenge.  But not quite.  Edward simply glared up, wondering what would happen next.  

Adam was the first to break the tense silence.  “You must be Edward Hyde.”

Hyde only nodded in reply.  

“So Henry’s gone, then?” Hyde noticed Adam’s hand shift in his pocket, and, expecting a weapon, glanced desperately at the mirror behind O’Malley - at me.  I gave him a shrug.  Tell the truth.

“No,” he answered after a few moments’ hesitation, slowly returning to Adam’s face.  “No, he’s still here.”

“Then prove it.” Hyde’s quick reflexes caught the corked vial before he had a chance to see what exactly it was.  One glance, however, was enough to send the first electric shock of elation through us - through both of us.  It was filled with a fine, white powder.  

Edward’s voice shook.  “Where did you -”

“They were left at Lanyon’s house.”

“And you got them because…”

“I’ve been to see Lanyon.” It should have been obvious, but Hyde was still confused as to why he was still alive.  Realization was dawning on him, however.  

“He’s not doing very well, is he?”

“I need to speak with Henry,” was the brisk reply.  

For a brief moment, I felt his temptation.  The need to perhaps save this, what might have been the very the last dose of the salts, for a later date.  Perhaps to flee the country, even, depending on how long they would last.  But he was too afraid of Adam to even attempt that.  He knew it, and I knew it.  And so, without another word, he went to the cabinet and removed a vial of the red tincture, a graduated glass, and a handful of my notes, before returning to my desk.  Some of his old, spritely eagerness was resumed in these actions, and he was excited to watch the colors and nature of the compound change after adding half the remaining salts to the red tincture.  As some of his old personality returned, I was relieved that it was directed toward our return to my body despite his natural disinclinations.

It was, of course, fear of Adam that made him so eager.  The promise lingered on what might even be considered our shared conscience, if he could be said to have such a thing.  His spirit settled somewhat as he placed one hand on the vial and picked it up, turning to face Adam in one last attempt to maybe gain a few spare hours of freedom, or perhaps hope for permanent existence.

“You know, watching this is what put Lanyon in his present state.  You can still -”  he was going to say ‘leave’, but Adam’s expression caused the word to die before it reached his lips.  He would not go anywhere until he was sure I was still alive and safe.  Hyde shrugged it off. “Or stay, your choice.”

He was disappointed, but now had no other option but to drink the pale green liquid.  The process, while jarring to those unfamiliar with it, was a matter of routine for us.  The pain, the fear, and the dizziness in direct succession were all followed by the crashing relief of being able to stand on my own two feet, place my hand to my forehead, blink my own two eyes at the fire and lamplight flooding the room.  

I didn’t waste time exchanging pleasantries with Adam.  “You said you came about Lanyon?”

There was something I didn’t understand in Adam’s face, as though he was looking upon someone he never expected to see again - nor wanted to.  But my concern for my fellow doctor overrode all curiosity.

“Oh, Lord, Hastie.  You didn’t come to tell me that -”

“No, Lanyon still lives, but not for long.” His voice was quiet.  “You have time to make amends, Henry.”

I rubbed my face, taking a long, shaky breath, before looking down at my hands.  My own hands, long and pale, and trembling.  Nothing like Hyde’s.  I was well aware that this might be the last time I saw my own hands.  It dampened my mood.

“I don’t know how long this will last, Adam.  I may not have time.  Especially if Utterson is right, and he has no intention of seeing me.”

“I could go with you.  He is willing enough to speak with me.  And if you do… revert, I can help you with your worse self.”

“He’s not me.  He’s made that very clear.  Now he only wishes to use me as a shelter.”  Only after I spoke did I realize how bitter my tone was.  I refused to look at him in my reflection, and he reciprocated the dark emotion simply by remaining silent.  I relaxed, however, seeing Adam’s face.  “I can’t, Adam.  I can’t afford for him to be seen, especially by Lanyon.  If it’s true, if Hastie is dying…”  I shook my head.  “If that is true, then Carew’s death is not the only one on our conscience.”

Adam sighed.  “I just wanted to get that to you.  Will nothing convince you to see Lanyon?”

“Nothing.”

“Then I suppose this is good night.  Until either fate or necessity beckons.”

“Jekyll,” Edward called from the mirror, a note of desperation in his voice.  “Jekyll, you know I won’t be able to help it if you go full under.  Tell him that.  Ask him - ask him about the promise, if it’s not my fault.”

“Good night, Adam,” I called after his retreating figure.  I have made up my mind that if we are to permanently take Hyde’s form, I will do nothing to stop his destruction.  Before I return to him permanently, however, I intend to do one last favor for my friend Utterson - for all my friends.  Hopefully, hopefully, with God’s help, I will have time to finish this last project.  

I only have one dose of the salts left, and I mean to save that for the very end. Until then, and until my final confession is completed, I sign these entries as the truth.  Should I never have the opportunity to finish, I hope I am remembered, not as Edward Hyde, but as the poor, misguided, suffering fool,

- Henry Jekyll

[suchawonderfullife]

3. Why Hansa?

I believe in divine intervention, karma, the universe giving you what you need at the right time etc. So I’d done over a year on antibiotic (abx) therapy, and seen maybe a 5% improvement (and by that I mean, I went from being unable to sit up for longer than 10 minutes at a time, to maybe on a REALLY good day I could sit up for just 20 minutes and not end up with seriously exacerbated symptoms). Abx is your mainstream treatment for Lyme. But let me make this clear, if you’re past stage one (longer than 6 months), your chances of this method of treatment actually working long-term and eradicating the Lyme are slim to none. No medical journal or LLMD (lyme literate medical doctor) or the CDC or any other organisation will admit this though. For patients who have felt better on this treatment, they often relapse once they stop or their symptoms return. So they haven’t fixed the problem and taking abx long-term is very damaging to the body. 

At the time we didn’t know any better and my Dr. as brilliant as he is, is not a lyme literate doctor, so he was learning too. There was a Dr in my city who was treating Lyme with IV antibiotics and I could have potentially got a PICC line put in. I told my Dr I would go and see him instead. He begged me not to go. He said “you are so so ill and complex, he will not understand this and it will make you worse, please don’t see him.” I’m so glad I listened to his advice. When I did oral abx with my CFS Dr, he was shocked that I couldn’t even cope with minute doses compounded especially for me. If the lowest dose of something like Doxycycline is 200mg, I would have it compounded to 25mg and I would take 1/2-1 tablet (depending in if I could cut it) every 3-4 days. When you start abx for lyme you are looking at 400mg once a day as a MINIMUM and then you steadily increase to 1000+mg per day. You then add in other abx so you’re taking a cocktail. 

You then get what’s called a herxheimer reaction. We call it herxing. This is where the bacteria that are dying, release toxins into the bloodstream at a rate too high for the body to cope and try to flush them out. So we experience exacerbated symptoms, feeling FAR FAR worse (I cannot stress enough how beyond torturous herxing is when you are already so sick). Herxing can also cause death if the die off is too great, so it is dangerous. My herxing was a living hell. Where the lyme is in your body is where you will feel it most. I have so much Lyme in my brain that I was more often than not severely depressed and suicidal, I had no control over my thoughts and my reality was often distorted. I had severe Lyme rage (it’s a real thing) and if I was a physically violent person, there would have been many holes in the walls, smashed furniture, broken mirrors, smashed phones and I probably would have hurt myself in the process. Rage at that level is all consuming and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. The soles of my feet burned so bad I couldn’t walk on them, my bones felt like they were constantly being drilled into or sawn off, I developed tremors like I had parkinson’s, vocal ticks where I would make random uncontrollable noises, I constantly felt like I was suffocating and unable to breathe, my nausea never went away, pounding headaches for days, night terrors so real I was terrified to try and fall asleep, but insomnia helped with that, night sweats where I would wake up soaked in sweat and freezing cold, my body feeling so hot like I’m living in an oven, whilst my feet are purple and stone cold and so much more. Remember I put up with this for over a year so far (2 years total). But I pushed through it, because I’ll do anything to get better. 

However it wasn’t working. At the rate I was able to cope with increasing my dose (because my herxing was so severe), it was going to take me 10 years to reach even a “normal” dose of abx and I wasn’t getting better. That’s when fate stepped in. My mum’s work colleague’s husband, worked with a man who treated himself for Lyme Disease and was now an Osteopath. Someone who CURED themselves of Lyme, holy shit!!!! I had to talk to this guy. He ended up calling me one night free of charge to give me advice. I remember being so ill I wasn’t well enough to hold the phone, comprehend what he was saying and physically speak, but I had to push myself because I wouldn’t get this opportunity again. He gave me the most incredible advice that made so much sense, I don’t remember all of it, but it was like a lightbulb moment and he had given me hope. His approach was different to anything I’d come across (because I’d done everything mainstream from the medical world). 

He’s an osteo, a holistic doctor, so their approach to healing the body is not to just pop man-made pills to “fix” the problem. It’s about healing the body so that the body can fight for itself. It’s not about the diagnosis either, it’s about working out what went wrong in the first place to allow the disease to thrive and working to fix that. The disease is the symptom, not the cause. The advice I remember over the phone was: to never use a microwave ever again. A microwave changes the molecules in food so your body no longer recognises it as food. I now heat everything up on the stove. To turn my WIFI off at night. EMF’s (electromagnetic fields) feed Lyme bacteria, it aggravates them and Dr. Dietrich Klinghardt (a highly regarded Lyme Dr in Germany) has studies to prove this. I sleep far better with the WIFI turned off and mine and my partner’s phone MUST be on airplane mode before we sleep, or they’re not allowed to stay in the room. If your mobile is in your room when you sleep and not switched off or on airplane mode, it must be at least 5metres from your bed. I don’t have an alarm clock next to my bed anymore as that’s more unnecessary EMF’s. My parents even sleep better with the WIFI off, if they accidentally leave it one, they have a terrible night’s sleep and they’re not even sick. I also have orgonites, salt lamps and selenite towers around my house to help absorb EMF’s. He also said I must drink bone broth every day to repair my gut. 90% of your immune system lies in your gut. I already knew I had IBS, leaky gut syndrome, gut dysbiosis, multiple food intolerances and more, so repairing that damage made sense. 

I started seeing him for a treatment called bioresonance. I’m not good at explaining this treatment. But basically everything has a frequency and say a healthy human has a frequency of 103. When your body is in dis-ease, it will have a frequency far lower. Bioresonance resets your frequency to what it should be. As the Lyme has written itself in my DNA, it’s in all my cells and has programmed itself into my bodies way of functioning, it would be in my bodies frequency. I know this sounds like airy-fairy crap but honestly if you disagree I couldn’t care less. It’s the ONLY treatment that I dramatically improved with and I have at least a dozen friends who have had the same experience.

You lie on a bed and get hooked up to this machine and you just lie there for 45-60 minutes. My new Dr commented on how sick I was. He would massage my organs whilst I was hooked up to the machine and he would say my stomach was like cement. My organs were struggling to badly, the massaging would leave me in tears from the pain. Bioresonance would also make me incredibly ill afterwards. It’s what I imagined chemo to be like. I would go home so toxic, nauseaous, my head pounding and beyond exhausted. But these were a different kind of symptoms to what I had experienced with Lyme, I can’t even describe it properly, I just felt so so ill. I would go to bed and sleep for 3 hours, wake up still feeling like death, eat very simple foods, take zofran wafers and panadeine forte and just be a vegetable on the couch. It would take me days to over a week to recover from this treatment. But every time my body finally recovered, I was actually better than before. It was working. After my 3rd session I drove for the first time in 2 years. I didn’t have the cognitive ability, energy or strength to do this previously. I drove 5 minutes down the road and WALKED around our local shopping centre on my own for an entire hour. I wasn’t even able to walk from the car to the door previously, if I ever went down the shops it was in a wheelchair and even sitting up for that long was incredibly difficult. 2 months into this treatment and I was able to drive myself 20 minutes to a friends house, spend time with them for a few hours and drive home. My health continued to improve with every session and eventually the treatment didn’t make me that sick anymore. 

He also weaned me off my abx as they were proving of no benefit to my body. I found out about essential oils. Did my own research and started using them. Shortly after signing up to a company, my Dr. told me he had heard good things about oils too and joined the same company. I can’t say much about essential oils as legally they have this red tape where they cannot promote any sort of healing. This is why mainstream medicine LOOKS like the best option, because holistic and natural options are not allowed to promote any kind of healing or benefits they provide. I will say they are phenomenal and I couldn’t recommend them enough, they are the second biggest contributor to helping me on this journey. 

I changed my diet to eating organic, drinking bone broth and having fresh cold-pressed juice daily. Cutting out all my food intolerance foods and eliminating refined sugar also helped significantly. My Dr. also makes his own fermented probiotic which I would have a shot of every morning. It tastes disgusting. Doing all of this to help repair my gut made a huge difference. When I eat something I shouldn’t I feel far worse and when I eat sugar it affects my brain and I become very moody and angry. Caffeine makes my adrenals crash so I drink decaf as a treat sometimes. If you can’t afford an entirely organic diet, you get organic meat before fruit and veg. Saving for my treatment I haven’t been able to afford organic food for over 9 months now and I’m really looking forward to being able to buy it again. 

My Dr. informed me of how stress is toxic to my body. Stress emits chemicals in the body that weakens us, and for a chronically ill person, we simply cannot handle this change in bad chemistry. So I’ve learnt to cut people out of my life, set firmer boundaries and avoid drama as much as possible, because it is simply not worth my health. It’s no one’s responsibility but yours to understand this either. I have broken up with partners, ended friendships and even cut off extended family members because of their behaviour, treatment of me or choices. They need no explanation from me either, because more often than not they won’t “get it” and it’s very hard to change people. Moreover, as I’m an empath, I absorb other people’s emotions and stress. I’m a great target for people dumping their problems on me. Don’t get me wrong, I care about people and want to help, but I had a few relationships that were one-sided, where the person would vent or dump their problems on me, talk about themselves and that’s where the conversation would cease. To me that’s not OK. I was honest with these people and either asked for space or set new boundaries for our relationship. Many chronically ill people are empathic, so knowing this is important. 

1 year of bioresonance and I was heading towards 70% health. Life was looking great. But I had a few stressors in my life, a few relapses in health and I seemed to settle around 50% health. Some days I might only be at 20% and other days I might be lucky to hit 70%. So at this point you would call me a “high functioning Lymie.” I’m still quite sick, but I no longer look sick. I can’t work or study, but I can complete basic tasks for myself most days. I can maybe leave my house once or twice a week for a social catch-up or to run some errands, but I will feel worse the next day and have to spend it lying on the couch. Majority of my energy goes towards simply caring for myself, showering, preparing food, cooking, house work, grocery shopping, sorting out medications, completing errands and then on a good day I might have a little energy spare to go out for a few hours, play the piano for 30 minutes, walk my dogs for 15 minutes or chat to a friend on the phone. 

Some days I can’t even get dressed, have a shower or speak (which sucks because I LOVE to talk). My health is incredibly unreliable and inconsistent. This is what frustrates me. I just can’t get above 50% health. I’ve had seriously scary relapses in the last few years too, where I’ve spent weeks bedridden, unable to care for myself and thinking “is this it? Is this where I go downhill and don’t get better?” I’m terrified of that. I can’t travel, contribute to society in all the ways I so deeply desire, have children, exercise or do anything relatively “normal” without it causing significant payback. I have to calculate how much energy every activity would cost me and I often have to for-go important gatherings or events because I’m not well enough. If I have 2 friends’ celebrating their birthdays on the same weekend, one on a Friday night and one on a Saturday night, I have to pick one. I couldn’t do both. And even then, I don’t know until the last minute if I can actually attend. Often I pick my event and then can’t even go to that. If friend’s and family want to make plans ahead of time, this makes me incredibly anxious, because I worry my health won’t be good enough and I’ll have to cancel last minute. This creates a lot of stress and guilt. I’m very grateful for the people in my life that tell me it’s OK if I cancel last minute, but I still feel guilty and disappointed to miss out on spending time with them. It’s not a CHOICE for us to isolate ourselves and be stuck in our beds or couches alone, feeling like crap. 

Even the other night I wanted to go out for dinner with my parter, but I woke up so sick and had a terrible day. I rested, ate healthy food and put oils on that usually help my symptoms of fatigue and nausea. But I felt no better. I was stressed and trying to “find” the energy to go out. I changed my clothes, decided against trying to put makeup on and just tied my hair up. Walked into the lounge room and just felt 10x worse from those activities. It was a battle in my mind for 10 minutes on deciding whether to push through or admit to my partner I wasn’t well enough. He’s very flexible and supportive so he was fine to stay home, but I felt so disappointed and annoyed at my body for not being able to cope. All I needed it to be ok with was driving 20 minutes down the road, sitting in a restaurant for 90 minutes and driving home. I just wanted a nice meal with my partner, holding hands, looking at each other, talking, and I couldn’t do that. This kind of disappointment is something I deal with often. 

So 1 year ago I decided that this inconsistency was just doing my head in. I’m fed up. I want a life. I remember at 5% health I begged the universe (or god, whatever your beliefs are) to get me to just 50% health, so that I could function a little and have some sort of a “life” and I would be so grateful. I got there. But this is not living, I still feel like I’m merely existing, with a little bit of joy or distraction from time to time. That’s when I started to look into more “extreme” treatment options. Australia and what is has to offer is not working for me. I will never get better if I keep trialling the limiting options is has to offer for a disease it deems does not exist and it therefore cannot comprehend the complexities of. 

[calemor]

Poison

The Heroes of Fannen-Dar, Chapter 3

Robin got home and closed the door behind her.  Or rather, she arrived back at the unused wooden dumpster behind the abandoned alchemical warehouse and shut the lid after she climbed in.  It wasn't a gorgeous place, but it was a place she could call home.  At least to herself.

She lit the lamp that had been given to her by a pitying merchant.  The light fell upon her one other shirt, a box with no lock, and a pot next to a sack of whatever edibles she had managed to scrounge up.  Crouching, since there was not enough room to stand, she moved over to the box.  She had once heard a story of a box with no lock yet could not be opened.  There was no key, no password, and no hinges, yet something rattled within it, so the story went.  Robin didn't keep a lock on her box because she hadn't found one that worked.  She opened it up and took out a dull knife.

Robin opened the sack and put the pot on top of the lamp.  It still had a bit of rainwater in it.  She dumped some of the contents of the sack into the pot; turnip stems, potato skins, and the rare slice of carrot floated in the murky water.  She took a brown apple core and began cutting it up with the knife.

She sighed as she prepared her supper.  She wondered how her life had reached this point, and how she was doomed to live like this for the rest of it.  It had seemed so simple; you take what you want and enjoy yourself.  It got more complicated, however, when you factored in the degrees to which people go to hold on to their things.  Thievery was her loftiest goal, but it wasn't her only option.  Street performing had gotten her nowhere.  Of course, no gang would let her join, even just as a messenger or lookout.  She had even tried begging, but that got her more kicks to the shins than iron coins.  It was a matter of her dreams and her talents not matching up.  She had dreams, but no talents.  She finished dicing the apple core and watched the perfect cubes bobbing in the stew.

Robin had just turned to her collection of discarded pamphlets when a dull, scraping sound caught her attention.  Robin looked back at the pot.  It was where she left it, the occasional bubble rising to the stagnant surface.  Another scrape thrummed down her spine.  It was the kind of sound only something terribly heavy could make.  Robin pressed her ear up against the side of the dumpster that was touching the warehouse wall.  When another scrape came, it pounded her ear, dragging it down into the depths of pitch where you could feel sounds.  Long, painful, dragged-out sounds, coming from the vague direction of upwards.  Then it was suddenly cut short.

Robin grabbed the pot and threw herself against the side of the dumpster just as an anvil came crashing down through the lid.

The cloud of dirt that the anvil had shuddered from its rest made Robin cough as she checked herself over to make sure she was still alive.  Her stomach was in her feet.  Her heart was in her throat.  Her brain was running around in circles, screaming.  Everything was where it should be.  Somehow, the stew had not spilled, and Robin only realized now that the pot was burning her arms where she was hugging it as if it were her newborn child.

The remnants of the dumpster's lid moved, and Robin blinked in the sunlight.  A hand reached down and picked her up by the collar of her leather shirt.  Someone did this about every other day, so Robin had patched up her collar so that it was baggy and easy to grab, but didn't tug on her neck when it was pulled.  The hot water sloshed as she shook and looked into the eyes of the three-quarters-orc from the Bloodroot gang.

"Hallo, there," he said.  "Member me?"

"Yugh."

"Fought so."  He grabbed the edge of the wrecked dumpster and effortlessly tore down what was left of the wall.  "Nice place you got," he said with a toothy grin.  Of course, it was hard for a half-orc not to have a toothy grin, what with the tusks and all.

Robin shivered.  "It...it was, I guess.  Can I...help you?”

"Oh, why, yeah, you kin help me, all right."  He now grabbed her with two hands.  Her neck remained unrestrained, but it still had the intended effect of making her even more terrified than she thought she could be.  "The Bloodroots are great.  You made us look like dingbats."  He leaned in, and Robin could smell his breath.  It was like a bouquet of flowers and a mug of apple cider were mixed together with a slab of three-week-old venison.  Robin tried not to look down at the chunky water she held.  "We don't like looking like dingbats," the half-orc snarled.

Robin swallowed, which she quickly regretted, as the smell was then turned into taste that slid down her throat.  Her brain, at least, had stopped running into the walls of her head, but it was now shrunk down against her temple.  It wasn't focused enough to prevent her from saying, "It wasn't me, it was King Dom!  He made you look like dingbats!"

"Did you just call us dingbats?" the half-orc grumbled.

Robin whimpered.

"Listen," he said, shaking her once.  The water sloshed again, and a bit landed on Robin's arm.  It was still hot enough to sting.  The half-orc continued, "You may think you're great, you may think you kin keep getting away with whatever you want because King Dom took some sore of shine to you, but I'm not letting it slide.  Broos may think it's good for us to listen to him, but I'm gonna give you the biggest pounding you ever had."

Robin sighed.  "All right.  But I just want to say one thing before we get started."

"Wuss that?"

"Hope you like garbage stew."

Robin thrust her arms forward and dumped the hot water over the half-orc's head.  He shouted and loosened his grip just enough for Robin to swing the pot, knocking it over his head, then slip to the ground and run like a devil that just found out it committed a virtue.

Robin instantly remembered that she had gotten no sleep and her legs were still sore from being chased halfway across town the day before.

She turned a corner and began to climb up the wall of the warehouse.  There were enough windows and loose bricks to act as footholds.  Robin grabbed onto the ledge above, tried pulling herself up, and found that she lacked the upper arm strength.  Her foot found a hold, and then her other foot found a higher one.  Her right hand shot up without a thought and reached for the slot of a missing brick above the window.  She heard heavy footsteps from the back of the warehouse.  When she looked down to see how far she had gotten, she froze in fear.

The half-orc came charging around the corner and picked her up from her spot three feet up the wall.

"Wait!" she shouted, squirming against his pincer-like grip.  "We can work this out, I can make it up to the Bloodroots!"

"Yeah, you can," the brute replied, "by sitting still and mergede-burg."

Robin took a few shallow breaths.  "Uh...can you repeat that?"

"Mordaga-ferv..."  A look of confusion spread across the half-orc's face, but it was quickly replaced with unconsciousness as his eyes rolled into the back of his head, his tongue lolled out of his mouth along with white froth, and he and Robin both collapsed onto the ground.

She twisted her body until she was free from his arms.  He didn't seem to mind.  Robin heard someone else click their tongue.

"Well, that didn't happen in quite the manner I expected," a voice said.  Robin looked up to the top of a shorter building next to the warehouse.  A man was lying on the roof, looking over the edge with his head in his hands.  When Robin looked up, he waved.  Not knowing what else to do, Robin waved back.  "Busy day, then?" the man asked.

"I...I suppose you could say that," Robin replied.  The figure above got to his feet and jumped, stuck to the opposite wall for a brief moment, launched off again, did a front flip through the air, and landed on his back on the alley floor.

He got up and brushed himself off, as if he had planned the whole thing.  Robin got the impression that it wasn't an attempt to cover his mistake, but rather a routine that happened so often he had forgotten he was striving for something more elegant.  The man himself, however, was incredibly elegant.  He was an alfar, a high elf, the ones you read about in stories who built towers that touched the moon, traveled the world through magic portals, and made faeries weep when they laughed.  He had straight, golden hair that framed his face and brushed down his back, with a single strand resting against his chest.  His ears were tapered, rising all the way up to the top of his head.  He wore sleek black leather, covered in buckles and studs, that displayed his thin but muscular torso.  He was the kind of thin you would call lithe, as opposed to Robin, whom you would merely call skinny, if you were trying to be polite.  She couldn't help crossing her arms in an attempt to use her pointed elbows to increase her visual width.

"Greetings," the alfar said, holding out a gloved hand.  "My name is Gwyntmarwolaeth."  Robin noticed a dagger sticking out of the sleeve on the arm he had held out to her.  She stared at it until he lowered his hand.  "Everyone just refers to me as Gwynt, though," he added, without losing a hint of cheerfulness.

"Did you have something to do with him?" Robin said, pointing towards the pile of half-orc.

Gwynt nodded.  "I was testing out a new sedative of mine.  I found a lovely little pot of water and thought, no better test subject than homeless dumpster-dweller whom nobody would miss, ha ha!"

"Ha ha!  Ha," Robin said, an octave higher than usual.

"So, it didn't work out exactly as I had planned, but the potion was tested in the end!"  He grinned at the unmoving body next to him.  His smile filled his whole face, causing his solid green eyes to squint.  Alfar didn't have crow's feet, for their skin never wrinkled, but no human could have put on a happier expression.

Robin coughed.  "So, he's just asleep, then?"

"Oh, no, he's clearly quite dead.  The potion was a complete failure as a sedative.  Of course, I should have known when I added another dose of deathvine."  Gwynt laughed, and while Robin didn't hear any faeries weeping, perhaps a crow did make a garbled attempt at singing.  "That's just the ups and downs of being an assassin, though.  Sometimes a sedative turns out to be a poison!"

"Of course."

"But you're not a helpless, homeless cretin after all!" Gwynt said, looking her up and down from head to toe.  "What is it you do for a living?"

Robin shuffled her feet.  "I've been told it's not true, but I consider myself a thief."  She wasn't too worried about confessing her illegal profession to an admitted assassin.

"Say!" Gwynt clapped and pointed at Robin as if he had just noticed her.  He then looked back and forth between her and the dead half-orc.  "Does this mean you can't work with him anymore?"

"Well, I wasn't working with him, but I do find myself without employment at the moment."

Gwynt raised his hand to his chest and his jaw fell open in shock.  "Employment?  You are too good to be merely working for another group.  You should be the one calling the shots!"

Robin couldn't remember ever being praised before, so at first she thought that Gwynt was demeaning her.  "Well, we can't all be fan-tratten-tastic assassins, as you so clearly are," she snapped.

"I'm honored, my lady," Gwynt said, a shade of pink creeping up his cheeks.

Robin closed her mouth, then opened it again.  "Wait, were you serious?"

"Absolutely."  Gwynt motioned for Robin to follow him, and they walked back to the rear of the warehouse.  Gwynt waved his hands over the scene, replaying Robin's daring and short-lived escape in his head.  "The way you ingeniously escaped that brute's clutches, adroitly evaded him for quite some time, and then cleverly stalled until my poison took effect...It was like watching a work of art spread across the canvas by itself."

It was Robin's turn to blush.  "Gee," she mumbled.

"I think you would fit right in with myself and my cohorts."

Robin's eyes turned into double moons.  Yesterday she (technically) stole something for the first time, and now she was being asked to join a gang!  It was almost too much excitement at once.  It was too much when you considered she hadn't gotten any sleep.  Robin staggered, then fell into a sitting position on a crate propped against the warehouse wall.

"You want...me?  To be a professional thief?" she said.

Gwynt shrugged.  "Well, it's not up to me, but I can introduce you and offer up my recommendation.  And you won't start with a leadership position, of course, since Anzo is...well, you'll meet him, and the rest."  He smiled.  "But, yes!  We're sorely lacking a good thief at the moment."

Robin looked over at the dumpster she had privately called home for the past three years.  It was now just a pile of wood surrounding an overturned anvil.  A ragged strand of blue cloth that she had used as decoration flapped uselessly in the breeze.  It was beyond repair, especially because no one else even remembered it existed.

"I'm in," she said.  Gwynt laughed again and cheered.  "What do you call yourselves?" Robin added.

Gwynt bowed formally, with an odd flourish of his hand.  "I am but a humble servant of the group, destined for greatness, known as...Bedlam."

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