#it's better than a seizure at least

[razzek]

Because shitty hell hospital wasn't bad enough, I just learned they were giving me a med that's dangerous specifically to asthmatics regularly and let me leave with a prescription for it. 8) I refuse to take any med from now on until I at least read it's Wikipedia page since apparently no goddamn medical professional can be fucking bothered. Ugh!

[devilsflowermantis]

migraines are such bullshit i’m on a daily med and a take as needed and today one still somehow managed to fuck me up

[buckets-of-dirt]

What is the point of a very specialized "watch" that costs the same amount as an actual smart watch (which have apps that theoretically do the same thing) but has fewer functions and isn't even very good at the one thing it's supposed to do?

[syxilla]

Ken sato x !reporter reader

oh, how he wishes you saw him as a man and not a boy.

cw for everything below: age difference (its used for the plot), suggestive (depending on who you ask)

thinking about kenji trying to impress reader in his games. the reader who is older, more mature and composed than him. who always comments on his arrogance in their articles or interviews. honestly, you were his harshest critic! it was your nickname amongst your co-workers as well. everyone knew you held hatred for him, and so did he. you frequently commented on his age and how it isn't smart to put so much faith into such a young and ignorant man and call him a living legend. "he isn't mature enough!" you always stated.

he hated that. his age doesn't make him better or worse than anyone else; he was just better because he was ken sato. but that didn't stop him from trying to act older, at least around you. because it was for you.

he's still so desperate to impress you. he'd do cooler moves in games, smile at the camera more in interviews, and, even though it seemed impossible, he became more prideful. but he couldn't help it! feeling your intense gaze on him as he walked onto the field or got into a stance, it was invigorating.

he especially got a rise out of seeing you roll your eyes, slumping back in your seat, crossing one leg over the other once you realized there was nothing for you to comment on his performance. it was perfect. so perfect that it would (sometimes, if he was lucky) get a small, ever so slight, smile from your lips. even better if he saw you nod your head in approval. so after one of (arguably) his best perfomances yet, one he spent weeks practicing just for his pretty little critic, he walks up to you, ready to soak in all the praise he believed he deserved.

"so... how was that y/n?" he teased, slamming himself into your personal space. it's his favorite place! if you thought it belonged to you, it was also his. "leave me alone, sato." you grumble, not wanting to admit your defeat to him. "it was good, wasn't it? right? righttt?" you push him away and begin walking away, eyes looking straight forward to avoid his gaze.

"oh c'mon, am i really that bad you can't even compliment me?" he pouted playfully, poking your oh so soft cheek, giving it a slight pinch. "fine, sato! you're a good player. you impressed me today, enough for me to even say im... proud of you." if you were to sneeze each time kenji's heart began to race, it'd look like you're having a seizure because of how fast it was.

"then why dont you show me how proud you are of me," this made you halt, snapping your head towards him. "how?" you asked, eyes focused on his lips that quirked up into a grin. "take me out to dinner. tommorow night. let me pick, and i'll consider the debt you owe me paid off." he smiled, taking a step back, allowing you to breathe again. when did you stop? "i'm not indebted to you anyway?" you retort, pushing him back even more to feel like you had the upper hand here. "yes, you are! all the times you've doubted my abilities! am i not worthy of getting an apology? a gift?" he said dramatically, placing his hand on his chest.

you sputter nothing in disbelief, until something clocks inside of your little brain. "are you asking me on a date, sato?" you asked, crossing your arms over your chest, a shit eating grin on your face. he leans down to your level, which is when you register how much taller he was than you, and tilts his head to the side. "and if i am?" kenji's voice goes quieter. "you're not my type." you mock, mimicking his tone. "i like them older." to this, he laughs. "you like grandpa's y/n? you like them near their deathbed?" he joked, trying (and failing) to hide his laughter. "yeah, atleast they're gentlemen, unlike you."

"i may not be the most gentlemanly person on earth, but i am a gentle man in everything else."

oh! oh. now you were entering dangerous territory. not for him, for you. it was so clear what he was setting up as a trap, and yet, despite all the warning signs there was, opened your plump little lips and asked with the purest face ever (even though your thoughts were the complete opposite) "how can i know if youre lying or not?"

and kenji, oh the annoying ken sato who you would never admit admired, not even on your deathbed, stepped closer to you, leaned down near your ear, and said in the loudest voice, loud enough so that you cant mishear him, and quiet enough that no one else can, says

"why dont i show you?"

if your composure was a ship, it would be near the ocean floor, the reason for sinkage; ken sato. right when your last functioning braincell is able to deliver a quip before total failure, someone calls kenji over. "you have a interview remember?" it yelled. "coming!" he smiled sweetly, kissing your cheek ever so softly.

the immature baseball player might not be as immature as you thought...

(thanks for the support on the last one, so i thought i'd write another one because im desperate for this man, like he's desperate for the reader, lowk. also i didnt fully proofread itmso sorry if skme names r missing colors and whatnot)

[user211201]

Modulated

--- Original author: realhankmccoy ---

“I ain’t no motherfuckin’ redneck, you assholes! Don’t you fucking get it? I’ll never be ok with you being here and disrespecting our gay spaces!” I had shrieked and screamed, and I was being sassy as fuck. But they had darted me, so it was too late for me already. I had been one of the hottest little twinks in Colombia back then. I had such a tight little body, I was non-binary, and I was supportive of my local drag scene. I was absolutely into resisting these fucking fascists and their goddamn bullshit lifestyles, which I couldn’t stand.

That’s how I thought of it all back then, anyhow.

Man, that dart though, it had done its dirty work. I was writhing on the floor of the club, so I didn’t even get to witness the way it transformed me as I went into spasms. It was almost like having a seizure, but I could feel the muscle growing on me, and I could hear my shrieks and wails shift in pitch as I grew on into this whole new, far more masculine body.

I was getting to be built like a brick shithouse really fucking fast, and was taking on more of a mature look. Everywhere I was getting more muscle. I was splitting the seams of my jeans, and my underwear, and felt my back pressing up and splitting my tight pink t-shirt.

When I finally was able to sit up, I was in a daze. I had rendered my clothes asunder. I had bristles of hair all over my face, and the har on my head had grown longer, too, sort of flopping in my eyes. I was a mess.

And then the headache came. I was clutching the sides of my head and moaning, almost screaming in pain out loud, as my twinkish mind collapsed and got replaced by a growing part of me I didn’t even know existed. That part, my friends, is the motherfucking, take-charge redneck stud I am today.

My friends helped me get out of there, and I was still in transition. It takes a good seventy-two hours at least until you can fully collapse one of those weak-ass brains like the one I had before and until a more dominant, superior personality takes over like the one I was starting to get.

So yeah, like I said, I was a mess, and when my friends got me back to one of their apartments, I was still sporadically ranting about how dare those fascists do this to me, they’d never win, this was fucking awful. But as I heard myself talk, there was a growing part of me that was observing myself and thinking “so what? You sound like a raving lunatic. Look at this body! Damn, boy, just look at that muscle!”

Sleeping on it, man, that twink brain of mine must have collapsed even further. I woke up and I just wanted coffee with a splash of alcohol in it, so that’s what I got. Then I added two splashed. I had already stripped out of my shredded pink t-shirt, and my friends had some loose boxers that fit me, but I was just this naked, muscular stud in awe of his own body and trying to come to terms with who I was now.

I was seeing my friends with new eyes, too. They seemed anxious to me, weak, full of nervous, overly feminine motions, jittery, immature, skittish and mostly just kind of fucking annoying. “Those are your friends,” I’d remind myself. “This isn’t you who’s thinking this.”

But that growing part of me was thinking “This is you. This is all you, stud. You’re so much better than them. They don’t even know you’re thinking this, and if they only knew, they’d probably be terrified.” That thought made me want to laugh out loud, so I did.

“What are you laughing at?” one of them asked.

“Oh, nothing man, nothing,” I said, looking away and scratching my head. “These are your friends,” I told myself again, but I didn’t really seem to believe what I was trying to tell myself that morning. “So what if they’re your fucking friends,” my new mind was saying. “They’re fucking losers, man. Don’t let them drag you down. You ought to just get out of here.”

That morning, I was feeling just hornier and altogether more fucked up than I’d ever been. I was thinking, nah, this can’t be the new me. I’m no motherfucking redneck. I don’t think like them. But already I was feeling excited, having this body, having these different feelings, realising that I didn’t feel like such an evil guy like this, not like I thought I would, anyhow. All I wanted to do at that point in time, I felt like, was get the hell away from these people. I didn’t know to where. I borrowed some shoes and a t-shirt that was so tight it hurt, pleading that I had to get back to my apartment. It felt like the shoes would split, and the shirt was riding up on my belly, as I trotted back to my place.

I didn’t know what I was doing or what I was gonna do. When I got home, I felt thirsty, just wanting to drink a little, feeling like that would make this feel better, even though I told myself no, you have to compose yourself, you have to call people, you have to report this. Just one drink, I thought. It turned into shot after shot, and before I knew it, I was drunk, hard in my boxers, having kicked off the shoes and thrown that tight-ass shirt on the ground as soon.

Then I was beating off, and cumming, and the build-up to that orgasm, man, it flooded my brain with some real redneck juice. I wasn’t thinking of the type of guys I usually did. I was thinking about redneck studs, studs like myself, feeling the drool run down my chin as I beat off. As I came, shooting way up on my pecs, rubbing it in with my hand, I was whispering to myself, almost like a confession that I had yet to voice to anyone, “You hot fucking redneck. Holy fuck, you love this, don’t you. You’re a redneck now. Holy fuck. Holy fuck.”

The desire to live for working out and fucking was already growing in me.

Thoughts were just racing through my head then. I knew I didn’t want to be some lame-ass yuppie or some weak-ass queer, man. I felt this powerful attraction to the redneck scene, the working class scene, the country scene, the military scene, the jock scene, you name it, any scene were men were men instead of the glitter fairy I had been before. I couldn’t quite pin it all down at that point yet, but my thoughts were sure racing.

Can you picture me, getting drunk in my apartment, turned on at my own body and swirling thoughts? And then I started to really know, man. I started to know. There was no going back now. The guy I used to be was a loser. I didn’t want to be him anymore. I was pissed off that I ever even was him.

I walked barefoot into the bedroom, checking out his stuff in the drawers and on the walls. Almost none of it would even fit me anymore. His feminine attire and the way his shithole apartment was decorated disgusted me. It made me want to punch the wall, even, so I did that and it felt good. I saw the paint crack and the drywall cave in. This new body had power.

I screamed then, a roar of pure rage and exhilaration. I punched the wall again, and it felt so fucking good that soon I was ripping all his shit off the walls and throwing it in a corner, ripping that flouncy shit off the mattress and I didn’t stop, screaming the whole while, until the bedroom at least look bare bones enough to resemble something a man would want to sleep in. I’d be damned if I ever let that loser back into this mind.

There were a few flashes, sure, and man was he a crybaby as he went out, as well as one hell of an angry little prick. Lots of hatred in his heart. I’d just laugh and say, “Fuck you!” sometimes out loud as I felt that twink brain collapse forever.

And now, as far as I’m concerned, he’s gone man. No longer a part of me, thank God.

I was nervous at first, when I started trying to hang out with guys I thought I’d have a lot more in common with that my old friends. Would they accept me? I was pretty desperate for acceptance at that point. I starting hanging out at a diner that I knew a lot of them liked to frequent, classic diner that pre-dated even the 1950s, a real antique. But these sexy ass guys would show up there, and soon we got to talking over waffles and hash browns.

Soon I was telling them I was darted, and they were saying that was hot as fuck, wanting to hear the story. Soon I was telling it to them, my legs in the air, sweat dripping down my bearded chin, as I was getting fucked.

Months after that, I was almost fully integrated into the lifestyle, man, and soon I was the one doing more of the fucking, especially after I got these sweet-ass tattoos all over my right arm. Getting fully into it, the desire to be that all I could be as man, hell, it ran in my veins now. I was going to let those commies know that I was better than them in every single way imaginable, and I wanted to show it off. I still get hard just at the thought of that, demonstrating my own superiority in the most tangible – well, to them, intangible, because I don’t want them even fucking touching me – methods available to me.

Yeah boys, it meant war for me, just like it had when I was a stupid twink, only this time I was playing for the other side, and it was chess instead of checkers.

Of course, there’s a lot more to life than just that for me, namely having hot-ass sex with all sorts of country studs and military men, hell, being part of that whole network of strong and powerful men who worship and respect other guys who’ve worked for it. I feel like I’m serving my country and being a paragon of virtue for it even when my legs are slung over some guy’s bull neck and thick, rounded deltoids as he plows the fuck out of me with his long-ass rod.

I had never gotten fucked this good when I was a twink.

I do real work with myself now, a man’s work. I dress like a man, I eat like a man, and I live my life like a man. I’m fucking proud of it, too. I love who I am now, and relocated to the other side of town, too, where the action’s hotter and I have way more in common with most folks.

I am sure glad I’m a buff stud with a thick-ass chest these days, and I don’t ever go clean-shaven. Been really into guy’s pits lately, and getting them to flex for me so I can lick those. Yeah, shit, I’ve gotta stop, because here I’ve got a raging boner just telling you all about that right now. I swear I’m way more horny than I used to be. At least seventy-five percent of the time now, I’d bet, I’m a top these days.

I don’t really like bottom boys, either. Their mere existence tends to piss me off, to be honest, so when I do fuck them I tend to be an aggressive power top. A lot of the time I don’t even think of it that way, though. I just think of them as so weak that the same rules don’t even apply to them. Different rules, in a way, because they’re a different kind of guy than me. Much more like women, unable to control themselves, you know how they are. I used to be one of them, and I’m so glad I’m not anymore, that’s for fucking sure.

A lot of the time I prefer to just fool around with guys such as myself. I love topping another top, having to wrestle somebody for hours in a strength and dominance competition. Gets the blood flowing. I like somebody who puts up a fight. C’mon, son, do you have any idea how fucking fun that is for me now? To meet up and hook up with another guy who’s just as manly as I am? That’s the stuff I live for now. I’m ready to just fuck my life away with hot ass guys at this point.

So, yeah, I’m a top who loves to wrestle with other tops and see who can dominate. I must be pretty good at it if I swear I’m scoring a seventy-five percent these days, but that’s just because occasionally I throw in some twink losers. Yeah bud, even some of these leftists get thrown a bone by me every now and again. They need us, and I like them to know they need us. They wouldn’t know what to do without us.

One of these days, I might even check with one of my army friends and see if I can come along on a mission so that I can dart one of them myself. I think I’d laugh my ass off when my dart goes in his neck or his shoulder, wherever it his him. Just to see the look on his face, shit boy. That could turn a guy on just by imagining it, so one of these days I’ll have to make it legit.

Fuck if I care about the loser I once used to be or what I’m supposed to be doing with my life. My life is better now and that’s all that matters to me.

Hot-ass guys, man. That’s what I live for.

[1-ker0sene-1]

i’m the era of disabled!reader, would you write something for reader who has epilepsy? 🥺 can’t find any fics in my chosen fandom with epileptic reader (or oc) and it makes me sad 🥺

{I hope you don't mind me pairing with Simon on this one ♥️ I hope you enjoy! And please if I get anything wrong lemme know! I'm more than willing to come back and edit!}

CW: improper seizure safety (not by you or Simon), epilepsy seizure description

In full honesty, Simon didn't know if he could do it in the beginning of your relationship. He didn't think he could handle your seizures.. Of course now- having been properly educated about it. He would absolutely scold himself for thinking that, you just need a little bit of help sometimes. You aren't a damn charity case and he hates when people treat you like it. You deserve to be comfortable and safe, not pitied and prodded at. Not only is he your partner and best friend, Simon has become your biggest advocate. Of support for your condition, but also your independence.

One of the first things you both sat down and talked about when getting serious, was seizure safety. Simon needed to know how to help, at least as much as he possibly could without hurting you. He also learned throughout this, that not all seizures are the same. Sometimes you're just.. Absent, with a flutter of your eyes or a quiet mumble as your gaze flickers to nowhere. You just seem lost for a couple minutes. Other times it's the seizures everyone thinks of, where you stiffen, twitch and seize, sometimes even falling to the floor. How can he help? He's a little stressed when learning that there's not much he can do but carefully maneuver you into a recovery position, put something under your head, and just be there for you.

Simon won't ever forget your scariest seizure, you two were just shopping. Simple. He left your side for forty-eight seconds. Exactly forty-eight, he remembers. He just went to grab something you forgot in a different aisle. Picking up a box of chicken stock for dinner, he hears the slam of your body hitting the floor. He remembers the feeling of his stomach twisting into knots, dropping the container and making a run back to your aisle when he hears someone call out.

It's not you calling, you're far into the seizing, a citizen found you before Simon did. Now it's not the bastards fault, this stranger didn't know how to help you, so in the panic the man was holding your shoulders down trying to still you. Simons hackles raise, words ripped from the masked mans throat instantly.

"Off her- NOW."

Simon didn't think, he just moved, his big meaty hand grabbed the man by the back of the neck and threw him away from you. He's honestly been nicer to enemy soldiers. He didn't even spare the stranger another glance, falling hard to his knees next to you.

" 'm right here baby.. Right here.."

He rips the balaclava off his head, definitely taking a tuff of hair from his scalp. Not that he would notice right now. Simon carefully lifted your head just to slip it under, the softer fabric better than the hard floor. Stroking your hair away from your face, he doesn't hold you down- but his hands are close to you, resting featherlight on your cheek.

"You're safe doll.. I'm right here.. it'll pass."

He murmurs to you, unsure if you're hearing, but either way he keeps talking you through. Now, his arms gently hook under your leg, being as gentle as he can- his hands position you to your recovery position and on your side. Fishing out his phone quickly, he's already got the timer going. Less than five minutes. Please be less than five minutes.

"I have you sweetheart.."

Simon is right by you, watching your every movement closely. He's shoved away any items, just you and him on the floor.

"Should we call an ambulance?"

A stranger asks, Simon shakes his head. Never taking his eyes off you. You just had to go through it. If it's not a long one you should recover alright.

"I have her. Just stay back and move on-"

He snaps, he's stressed, he knows they're just concerned but he doesn't want anyone fucking with you right now. Simons eyes light up as the seizing calms, under two minutes, you're coming back to him. He finally lets out the massive breath he's been holding in. His thumb caresses your cheek.

"You're alright.. there you are.. you're okay."

Simon curls himself closer to you, stroking your cheek as your eyes slowly start adjusting back. You're foggy, confused, he's holding you a little closer and whispering softly.

"it's Simon, love.. Your Simons right here. You're right here.. we're in the store baby."

Now that you were coming back from it, Simon slips himself behind you as he moves you to lay against his chest. It's a while before you're able to be moved, waiting until you're fully alert again, he's taking it slow carrying you back to the car and getting you home. The rest of the week is spent easing you through the recovery. Low lights, he knows your head is aching. Lots. Absolutely lots of sweet talking. His strong girl.. he calls you. Making sure you take your meds on time and get plenty of rest.

"I'm sorry Si.. I didn't mean to scare you.."

You mumble, in bed together. Simon is sat up against the headboard, holding you close on his lap. His hand strokes locks of your hair, shaking his head sternly.

"Don't be apologizin' for anything. Didn't do a damn thing wrong-"

His hand slips to hold your chin, making you lock eyes with him.

"Hear me? Nothin'. I got you.. I'll always have my girl."

[bootybumper808]

ᯓᡣ𐭩 SUNNY DAYS

YES, MY HEART IT’S FULL OF YOUR SMILE, YEAH.

denji / fem!reader (modern au drabble)

SYNOPSIS: one school morning, you were dozing off and mere inches away from falling asleep. The lack of sleep from last night was at fault. You could hardly keep your eyes open. That was until your desk neighbor tapped your shoulder and handed you a note.

—YOUR TEACHER WAS PROBABLY talking about something important or so. Not like you were listening. Well, you really couldn’t with the war you were fighting. A fierce battle against fatigue and shame.

One side wanted a well deserved rest after pulling an accidental all nighter whilst the opposing side refused to as your classmates would be well aware of how tired you were.

You’d feel even more shameful if you fell asleep and fell off your chair or slept talk. Your average reputation you tried hard to uphold would immediately be replaced by ‘girl who talks to herself in her sleep’ or whatever the hell these psychos at school would come up with.

If the person in front of you turned around, they’d probably think you’re having a seizure. You’re head would slightly fall limp until you’d knock yourself conscious and your eyes were struggling to even stay open for a simple second.

This was an actual hell. Maybe you shouldn’t have stayed up all night. What were you even doing? Man, you can’t even think properly.

All you could hope was that class ended soon so you could walk around to waken up.

The dread lasted for a few more minutes until the person who sat next to you tapped your shoulder and whispered your name soon after, catching your attention.

“This is for you.” She handed you a folded note with haste, seeming worried that she’d get caught by the teacher. You were grateful for the gesture as it woke you up from being half asleep but now you were confused.

A puzzled look manifested on your facial features as you stared down at the folded paper. On the side that faced up was written, ‘open!!!! [Name] only!!! fartbombing any1else who does!!!!!’

The writing was actually kinda really messy, took you a bit to decipher it. When you did you found it odd. Who uses fart bombs as a threat? It sounded stupid and childish.

…On second thought, it might actually be a really good threat. Especially if the fart stinks really bad. It could probably kill a person. Honestly, way better than literal bombs. At least it won’t destroy buildings.

You had to resist a chuckle before you unfolded the paper. Revealing even more writing. It was just as bad as the previous writing if not worse. Whoever was writing this needed serious help because you can not read it for the life of you.

It just looked like scribbles with the exception of a couple letters. The spelling was kinda bad too. Your exhaustion from earlier was slowly returning the more you stared at the paper which did not help.

A couple times passed but you couldn’t tell how much. With whatever time you spent, you managed to figure it out. ‘go owt wit me plez! b my gurlfrend?’

Below it was two choices, yes and xtra mega yes (said letter for letter—mind you), with an empty box below for you to check. Little doodles were all around the paper such as a couple doggies, hearts, and a stickman with heart eyes.

It was funny. And cute. You couldn’t lie about that. But how were you supposed to answer without knowing who it was from? Your eyes searched all over the side of the paper that faced you but nothing.

You tried the other side and there it was. In tiny little letters. The name Denji. You’d like to say you knew him well. You’d get grouped together often in team projects and exchanged numbers even, which is how you became friends.

He was easy to talk to and had humor. He was really nice too, willing to do almost anything you’d ask for… you barely did though. You felt to bad making someone do work for you.

His sweet personality overtime made your mind race at night. His smile almost made your heart break your ribcage. Overall, you liked him back. Obviously.

How did you not recognize his writing earlier? It’s easy to tell. Unconsciously, the corners of your lips lifted, forming a nice little smile. You could feel your heart pick up its beat and all of a sudden, all your fatigue was gone. In replacement, you felt happy and a little nervous.

For what? You didn’t even know. You picked up your pencil and checked off the second yes. He didn’t even give you an option to reject. Not like you would have anyway.

Folding it back up, you tapped the girl who had handed you the note. “Thanks, could you pass it back? Please?” You spoke in a hushed tone, careful to not alert the teacher.

She nodded and turned to the person behind her which created a sort of chain. You glanced back to the desk where Denji sat, only to be met with his own eyes that stared back. A light pink dusted his cheeks and you smiled even wider, an act he returned before you faced forward.

You waited with an anxious heart for the moment the paper would reach the owner. You wished you sat in the back too so you could see his reaction.

The only indication you got was a quiet, “yes!” and a thud that soon followed after, causing practically the whole class and the teacher to turn towards him.

You turned also, softly laughing with your hand covering your mouth as he rubbed his elbow with a pained expression. Did he hit it on the table? Denji was quick to recover and apologized to the class before meeting your eyes with a shy smile you absolutely adored.

NOTE : yall this is my apology for not updating apple cider ☠️ literally im so brain dead i cant think of anything 😭🙏. + I DONT GIVE A FAWK THAT DENJI IS SUPER EXTRA OUT OF CHARACTER I MADE THIS ON A WIM HAVE MERCYYYY 💔… I SWEAR ILL TRY TO GET SUM OUT THIS WEEK

[scary-lasagna]

oh oh oh!! Yandere proxies with a darling who, in the escape attempt, damages the proxy marking thing?

If a marking is damaged, it still relays a weak signal. Lesser creatures won't be able to detect it, but higher beings will. But damn, is it painful. It's a direct link to Slender, and then it's severed, it's disobedience. Disobedience is punished.

Masky

It was a knife, the very weapon used against you to subdue your 5th escape attempt.

You were a fighter, and that's why he wanted you.

That's why he adored you.

But damn. You could really pack a smart faced punch when you needed to.

He was on top of you, with the handle of his knife between his teeth, struggling to fist both of your wrists at the same time. And in a quick motion, you snatched the knife, chipping his tooth in the process, and swiped down on the shoulder of his jacket.

He screamed, completely blacking out in pain and clutching his shoulder. You managed to quickly scamper away as Masky starts heaving and collapsing on the ground, spots clouding his vision from the pain alone.

You didn’t waste time pushing yourself off of the bloody grass, and almost slipped as you ran into the brush of the forest.

Time seemed to escape you as you pounded your way through the forest, not caring where you went as long as you were keeping distance from Masky, who was hopefully still writhing in the ground in pain and regret.

But then you came to the conclusion that you were lost. You didn’t know how long you’ve been in the woods, how many times you’ve passed the same tree (or at least you thought it was), and why it seemed like something was following behind you.

It might just be a squirrel, right? But no, foolish [Y/N] this is the Black Forest, there are no harmless squirrels. Any creature in here following a cute little human like you has no good intentions to your health.

You didn't even have time to react to your quick, painless death of a snapping neck.

Hoodie

Hoodie is usually a bit more smarter than this, he knows how to protect his weak spots, unlike Masky who tends to act on reckless anger.

It was only a simple scratch as you flailed under his grip, consistently dragging you by your ankles and eventually the rim of your pants, which you quickly learned was an easy handle that he enjoyed dragging you around with.

A game of cat and mouse can only go on so long before the mouse gets eaten. Freedom was only steps away into that dark forest, you didn't care if you could find your way out, because you'd have a better chance of survival against the elements and beasts rather than with this complete psychopath.

But a measly little scratch, just enough to draw blood was enough to drag him down.

He was more fortunate than the others, getting by with only a scratch that felt like a hot, molten nickel erupting from the wound.

Hoodie's grip released, and you quickly freed yourself, scrambling away while he hunched in pain, screaming through his gritted teeth.

Hoodie's body was entirely tense, focused on the sheer amount of pain wrecking his body in wave after wave.

You almost paused to stare at the sight, not quite sure if it was a trap or not. He tended to trick you with little tests.

But you tested fate that day, and sprinted into the forest, letting him watch helplessly as you faded into the brush.

Toby

tw: seizure

Toby doesn't feel pain, but magic will not let a bad deed go unpunished no matter the circumstance.

In Toby's eyes, you only needed a little coaxing to stay still while he attempted to shackle the handcuffs on your wrists.

He'd given you too much freedom to be comfortable with.

A knife stuck out of Toby's back, although it took a moment for him to realize the marking was split open from the blood running down his back.

He felt no pain, but the hallucinations started soon after.

He kept screaming your name, calling for help, it was too pathetic for you to feel sympathy for, even if you had stayed to help him.

His wretched voice echoed throughout the house as you rushed toward any door, any window you spotted. Your mind rushed faster than you could make sense of it, and even opened a pantry in the rush of adrenaline.

You had to try the back door, which was past Toby's body in the living room.

And it fell unusually quiet.

But upon tiptoeing into the living room, with eyes wide and full of primal panic and focus, you noticed Toby convulsing on the ground.

But you didn't have any sympathy for him, you reminded yourself. Every villain as their golden moments, and in his delusions he loved you. But people don't hurt someone that they love. And they certainly do not threaten to lock them in handcuffs, to shove them into a windowless basement.

Foaming at the mouth, Toby wasn't present anymore, and didn't pose a threat even if the seizure did stop before you left.

You grabbed the keychain from his pocket, and unlocked the multiple locks lining the back door, and you disappeared from his life, hopefully for good this time.

When Toby finally woke up, the back door was open, a stupid racoon was picking through his hair.

[echobx]

Scene. And Action! - Rudy Pankow × fem!PA!reader

summary: y/n is the personal assistant of the director on the set of a show and helps Rudy out with a scene

word count: 1.4k

warnings: smut, public sex, oral (fem receiving), making out

author's note: when you wake up at 5am and try to go back to sleep but inspiration hits so like a ton of bricks so you gotta write and then it's 7am when you're done editing and you are tired as fuck but at least you did something productive that you are proud of.

kinktober masterlist

   Usually there's little that phases you. Scary things and the supernatural are just part of your rather boring job as a PA on a show that focuses on such. Even though you never know what is to happen until it does, you don't freak easy. But when you get into work that day you start to notice that some things are different, there's fewer people than usual. You meet with one of the writers’ assistants and learn that there will be an intimacy scene, so less people on set than usual to keep the actors safe and feeling welcome. 

   Your boss decides she needs you next to her side as she's directing the new star of the show. So you do that, you stay by her side and watch the actors walk on set, you don't know the woman, she was only hired for this one episode, and the man is also still a stranger to you. Rudy hasn’t really talked to the people on set much, only the director and the writers and his co-stars, but it's only his third week on set, so you can't blame him. 

   He looks good, as he's standing two feet from your left, talking to your boss. Tall and muscular and incredibly sexy in that suit the costumes department put him in. You try your best to not gawk, but for the first time ever you feel his eyes on you, glancing at you while receiving his directorial instructions. 

   The scene starts minutes later. He pins his co-star of the day against the wall, holding her hands above her head as he kisses her and rips her dress in two. And you feel hot, much hotter than you should be considering how inappropriate it is, considering this is your workplace. Your eyes focus on his hands that are now cradling her jaw, before forcing her head into her neck to kiss down her throat. You're entirely unsure if the moans she's letting out are real or not, but you hope for your own sanity that they aren't. Yet when he moves farther down, ready to kneel in front of her, the actress starts to arch her back over and over again, almost as if she's faking a seizure.

   “Cut!” your boss barks, and Rudy stands, but his eyes, instead of fixing on your boss, are only looking at you. 

   “What was that?” the director says from next to you while the actress wraps herself in a robe. “You looked like you were possessed.”

   “She is possessed,” the actress argues, but your boss won't have it. 

   “The whole drama of the episode is based on him not knowing she is until it's too late. How are you gonna surprise the viewers if you give it away in the first ten minutes of the episode!”

   “I'm sorry,” the actress apologizes, and a costume assistant takes her to get the dress fixed up again. 

   “There's no chemistry,” Rudy whispers a complaint to the director, and you are almost ready to roll your eyes at him.

   “You’d have chemistry with a wall,” she scoffs, and you nearly snort a laugh, but hold yourself back. 

   “She's not giving me anything! At least on a wall, I can lean on,” Rudy hisses, not wanting anyone else to hear it. 

   “And what do you want me to do? It's one episode and she's gone. Just please do your job.” 

   “You have better actors under your assistants than in front of the camera,” he says, and his eyes dart back over to you. “Just let me at least try to convince you that switching her out would be a good idea.” 

   “Fine. But only with consent, not charming them. We can't afford a lawsuit,” your boss sighs and Rudy's eyes are back on you. 

   “Have you ever acted before?” he asks, and you feel exposed, caught red-handed, in what you aren't sure. 

   “No, never,” you shake your head and he smiles. 

   “Good. Could you help me with a scene?” 

   “Uhm…” your eyes dart from him to your boss, silently asking for permission and only telling him yes after she nods a single time. 

   Rudy walks you onto the scene, explaining that he won't do anything that would require an intimacy coordinator, for now, if you aren't okay with it, but you don't know what else to do but nod along. 

   “So, as you saw earlier, I'm supposed to pin her to the wall, it's supposed to look like I'm struggling just a tiny bit to hold her there, but she's not to do anything, just act human,” he says, and you nod, gnawing at your lip while looking up at him as you stand in the hallway that was built specifically for this scene. 

   “She didn't, I saw that.” Your voice is as quiet as a whisper. 

   “Exactly. And there's just nothing. She's not giving me anything,” he says, but his eyes slip down to your lips. “I can only do so much, you know?”

   “M-hmm,” you hum. 

   “Tell me not to,” he sighs softly, and your eyes dart over to your boss, attentively watching you over a screen while the camera people are holding onto the scene. Your only saving grace is that the audio is cut off with the sound technicians being on a short break. 

   “She's watching,” you say, and he steps closer, so you step back against the wall while your heart feels like it wants to jump out of your chest. 

   “Use your words, please,” he whispers, blue eyes staring into your own as he comes impossibly close to you, his nose brushing against your own. 

   You bridge the small gap between your lips with a chaste kiss. More peck than anything. But Rudy doesn't leave it at that. His lips pull you back in, hands cradling your jaw and squeezing your hip. It doesn't take long for him to deepen the kiss, slipping his tongue into your mouth, and you try not to moan into him, but fail miserably. 

   Before you know what's going on, he has your hands pinned up above your head and kisses down your neck and up the side of it to whisper in your ear. “You look so fucking hot in this dress.” 

   Your thighs squeeze together for just a moment before he presses his knee in-between them. 

   “I could make you come right here, right now. Do you want that?” he asks, and you sigh deeply, biting your lip, as he finds the soft spot below your ear. “Blink twice if you want me to fuck you right here, baby.” 

   You don't even know what's come over you when he lifts his head to look down at you, and you blink once and then twice just before his lips collide with your own. 

   It's all a daze, the kissing, the way he looks at you, and suddenly he's down on his knees, gazing up at you with a wink before vanishing under the skirt of your dress. You're unsure if you are allowed to take your arms down or not, but when you feel his hot breath against your cunt, you have no idea what is appropriate to do at all. You forget where you are and lean back against the wall while pushing your hips out and against his face. Mouth apart in a breathy, quiet moan while his tongue licks strides up your wet cunt before his lips close around your clit and two ringed fingers plunge into your tight cunt. Your hand tries to hold onto the fake windowsill to your left, grasping for something to keep you grounded, anything. Your stomach tightens, and biting your lip isn't enough anymore to get rid of that specific feeling. With your eyes closed and your head thrown back you come all over his gorgeous face, panting as if you have just run a marathon while he wipes his face and fingers with the inner skirt of your dress, to remove as many clues as there were on what he had just done. 

   You're still a complete mess when Rudy stands and takes your head in his hands to kiss you again. “You should come by my trailer later,” he whispers, and you nod before watching him walk off to talk to the director about how much better of an actress you would be for the episode than the one she had hired. The only issue being, that you weren't even acting at all.

please don't copy and/or post my work onto other platforms! ~e©ho

taglist: @redhead1180 @spideysimpossiblegirl @drwstarkeyy @princessmaybank @kys4-20 @immyowndefender @julczimozart @m2m2m2 @mochimms @itsme-again @maybankslover @th3eternalersi

[cobragardens]

The Golden Lion

For all that Aziraphale is the more frightened of the two of them, Crowley is the snake: he camouflages himself carefully, and his first instinct is always to flee.

Aziraphale's is to stay. He insists on facing the Apocalypse. He insists on facing the Second Coming. He insists on trying to make a difference. He doesn't want to go up to Heaven, but he does it anyway, alone, because he wants to stop the destruction of Earth (again) and keep Crowley safe.

He's very difficult to shame, too. He never gives up his innocent pleasure in eating, even though Heaven, Hell, and probably people on Earth all mock him for it. He's soft and he remains soft, even after Gabriel shames him for both his physical and metaphorical softness. That takes a lot of strength and an unshakeable character.

You know the gold ring Aziraphale wears as a badge of office, that functions as the counterpart to Crowley's snake tattoo? The charge on that ring is a lion.

The heraldic attitude of the lion is rampant (i.e., reared up): it stands on its hind legs with its forelegs raised, as though attacking, and its head is forward-facing: it looks forward, toward the future.

Obviously in popular symbolism, lions represent bravery, and that definitely fits Aziraphale. He's literally leaving the only person who has ever loved him to go make the universe a better place for that person and for everyone, and he's going alone amongst the people who have despised and shamed him his whole existence and tried to kill him at least once; those people are mfing Heaven and have been entrenched in their power for thousands or millions of years. It doesn't get a whole lot braver than that.

In Christian symbolism specifically, the lion represents Christ. (He's referred to in the book of Revelation as the "lion of Judah" because the heraldic symbol for the tribe of Judah was a lion and Jesus was said to be from the tribe of Judah because his [step]father Joseph was from Judah.)

Normally when a story draws a parallel between a character and Christ, the parallel is one of self-sacrifice. That's not what's happening here. When symbolism for Christ represents his self-sacrifice, Jesus is invariably associated with a lamb--the sacrificial lamb--not a lion. When that symbolism represents Christ's mercy or holiness or divine nature/ordination, the dove of the Holy Spirit is used.

But the lion is a symbol inherited from the Old Testament. It represents royalty, power, threat, and seizure from others by force. Jesus is symbolically depicted as the lion upon his return to Earth during the book of Revelation. The lamb is Jesus' self-sacrifice and death for the sins of humanity, but the lion is Jesus' return, powerful, royal, and triumphant.

Does Aziraphale's ring foreshadow his involvement in the Second Coming of Christ? Probably! Is it a symbol that Heaven is the proverbial (and biblical) "lions' den" where they should be doves and lambs? Maybe.

I think it more likely that Aziraphale himself will be the lion, on a righteous rampage like Jesus chasing the moneylenders from the steps of the temple, telling them "It is written, My house shall be called the house of prayer; but ye have made it a den of thieves." Because the ring is a signet ring, meant to impress a seal that legally represented the wearer as an individual. So the lion is linked to Aziraphale himself.

Aziraphale is soft. It is one of his very best qualities. And soft and weak are not the same thing: because he is soft, he tried to kill the Antichrist, a child. Because he is soft, he stood alone before a demon in defiance of the will of Heaven and demanded with no power whatsoever to back him up that the demon spare children whose murder God had authorized. He, an angel of God, worked with a demon to deceive the Heavenly Host and, as he points out himself, thwart the will of God. Even before that, because he was soft, Aziraphale gave humans the gift of fire and self-protection and then lied to God Herself about it. I mean it literally does not get any more courageous than that.

And I can't stop thinking about what that lion, and that softness, and the link between the two is going to mean for S3.

[severedfromthesource]

Heart of the Forge

Part 1| Part 2| Part 3

With Adam in cardiac arrest, Tav scrambles to revive him before the Pennydurren loses power. And before the choice is taken out of his hands.

Original concept by @emptycalories-splitlip . Features M resus, M rescuer, CPR, mouth to mouth, intubation, open heart massage.

In the other cars, the lights had been going haywire. Brightening to terribly hot globes on the walls and ceiling, flickering, going dark and then reigniting with the Forge’s heart struggling to maintain him. The entire Pennydurren knew something was wrong. No one knew more acutely than the seamstress in the upper cars garment manufacturing. There was a great shudder running through the train and the sewing machines went silent for the first time that day.

She stared at the needle buried in cloth and folded her hands over her mouth. She knew better than anyone what that meant. “No,” she whispered, tears springing up before she could even register she was crying. “No, my baby…” The backup generators kicked in and once more the machines came to life and the lights popped back on, but it brought her no relief.

Adam’s heart had stopped. Her son was dying.

—

There was a moment, holding up Adam’s limp head with his shoulder, that Tav couldn’t comprehend what had happened. His brain short circuited. He held him there for- too long. Entirely too long. He couldn’t take a breath. What air remained in his lungs left his mouth in short huffs, his eyes wide and fixed on some inconsequential spot on the floor. He couldn’t look at his charge. He couldn’t begin to understand, or maybe accept the truth, that his Forge’s heart had just stopped.

He was dead weight in his arms. The seizure had faced, replaced with an earth shattering stillness. His hands shook where they had been braced against the larger man’s back. Somewhere beyond the ringing in his ears, Marsh’s deep timbre was shouting. He realized, feeling something warm slip from his eyelash, that the ringing was the EKG. He’d flatlined. And Marsh was grabbing his shoulder hard enough to hurt.

“Gustav!” He bellowed. “Sit him back!” Why? He wondered at those words, He’s dead. I can at least hold him like this, I can feel his warmth until it’s not there anymore. I- Marsh slapped him hard across the face. Now his ear really was ringing, but only on the left side, a high pitched whine where he’d been struck. His cheek stung, reddened and almost immediately beginning to swell with an angry, hand shaped welt. Any harder and he might have knocked him unconscious. It was enough.

Tav was shoved back into his body and he moved, laying Adam back against the metal throne. Immediately the engineer tipped Adam’s head back into one of his large hands, supporting his neck as he forced air into his body. Adam was big, but Marsh had been working his whole life with machinery weighing twice as much as himself, and he looked like it. Even just pinching his nose for artificial respirations, he covered half of the Forge’s face so his slack mouth was the only thing really visible.

Tav scooted back as far as he dared on his charge’s lap, stacking his hands in the middle of his slick chest. He felt the air welling in his lungs once more, then he started compressing his chest. “One and two and three and four, five, six-“

The light was dimming in Adam’s chest. He tried not to turn back into a stunned bystander, forcing himself to focus instead on the rhythm of CPR and the depth. But even that was hard. Focus was impossible. Not when his fingers bent over Adam’s ribs as he pumped his heart manually. Not when his Forge’s arms swung limply off the arm rests of the chair.

He heard the hollow whoosh when he reached thirty and Marsh filled Adam’s lungs. Tav glanced over at the monitor, seeing the flatline making a comet trail over the display. He once more beat his hands against his sternum and the straight line was broken up by sharp, irregular peaks. It was comforting, as much as anything was comforting right now, to watch the line on the monitor. It was picture proof that he was doing something good. He was actually making his heart beat, and not just fracturing his bones needlessly.

A voice crackled over his comm watch, “Gustav? Gustav, what’s going on?” Father Shep. He ran the entire operation, the Pennydurren’s conductor and king and named protector. The one who had tethered Adam to the engine with ropes and cables. Tav swallowed and managed to huff, “Adam is in cardiac arrest. I’m trying to resuscitate him as we speak.”

“Damn it all.” There was movement on the other end before he continued, “We caught your little viper. He confessed to everything. They used some kind of poisonous mushroom powder from the back cars, distilled a cardiotoxin.” Tav nearly collapsed. He reached a count of thirty again and rested his hand over Adam’s heart as Marsh filled his lungs.

“I’m still waiting on the medic,” he ground out as he took up his task again, forcing his sternum inward.

“I had him diverted,” said Shep.

Tav’s stomach bottomed out. “You… what? Why? I need help here, I’m not a-“ “He’s preparing the next Forge candidate for surgery. The auxiliary power will just barely last two hours, the surgery and instillation of a Forge take a little longer. We’ve never had such short notice of replacement.”

Replacement. The strength nearly went out of Tav’s arms. They were going to let him die. Worse, they were asking his Keeper to let him die. “Sir, I can… I can bring him back, he’s only been in arrest a few minutes-“ “This isn’t a stroke or heart attack, or something we can treat. Even if he recovers, his heart will be considerably weakened. He’s of no use.” Tav felt like someone had punched him in the stomach.

Marsh stared down at him, holding Adam’s head up. Both had paused their efforts to revive him. Something clicked nearby and a panel slid open on the wall. An emergency measure he had only been briefed on his first day. Scalpels, bone saws, and other surgical equipment gleamed behind the glass case, upon which read IN CASE OF EMERGENCY in red block letters. “Go ahead and call him, Gustav,” said Father Shep. “Then retrieve his spark so it can be implanted in the replacement Forge. If we do this right, we should have just enough time before the backup generators go out.”

Tav was shaking. His hands trembled on Adam’s pectoral, his skin cooling under his palm. They weren’t just asking him to let him die. They were asking him to cut him open and peel away the thing that made him special. The device affixed to his left ventricle and glowing dimly now behind his sternum, the thing that had made him a Forge in the first place, and made Tav his Keeper. Marsh had stopped giving him breaths and looked on with an expression of pity.

“I can bring him back,” he rasped lamely, “I can save him. Just let me save him…” “You have your orders. It’s already underway, if you hesitate then you are risking the lives of everyone else on this train. We’re already losing power to the diving bells outside. Do as I’ve asked you, Gustav.”

He looked to the silver instruments, pristine in their glass case, and his own heart hammered painfully in his chest. Butchery. They wanted him to cut open the only person who had ever given a damn about him, who smiled when he smiled and laughed at his stupid jokes. He looked up at the engineer, pleading with his eyes without knowing it. Marsh shook his head, gingerly adjusting Adam’s head so it rested against the back of the chair. His throat made a limp arch and his eyes were closed. He looked small and ordinary.

Tav made a decision. “Get him to the floor,” he muttered, as much on his back as you can manage.” “Should we disconnect him?” “Not yet. Just lay him down.” It took them both to lay him in a heap on the floor. He was partially angled as the cables lifted one of his shoulders a bit off the floor, so he couldn’t lay flat. Tav settled back onto his knees beside him. He interlocked his fingers and began forcefully pounding on his chest again.

Marsh looked at him with wide eyes. “Lad? What’re you doing?” But it was obvious. Tav wasn’t giving up. “I can save him,” he said, his eyes never straying from Adam’s face. “Keep breathing for him.” “Lad,” Marsh said low and sympathetically, like he was trying to explain death to a small child, “We have to get the engine running again. We can’t waste time.”

“He is not some piece of machinery you can just replace when it malfunctions,” Tav snapped, “He’s not useless. Or a waste of time. Fucks sake, he’s a human being!” He threw his weight behind each thrust, forcing Adam’s chest to cave and rocking his body. His impassioned plea made it obvious that Adam was more than a human being to him. He had been his one constant since they were children. He’d protected the Pennydurren since he was a teenager, and Tav had protected him. “I’m not just gonna let him go,” he whispered in hoarse, aching defiance.

Marsh watched him for at least two cycles of CPR. Tav rocked against his chest, Adam’s shoulders shrugging inward with each compression. He pulled open his jaw, making a seal against his pale lips, and blew down his throat. The Keeper had started hyperventilating from adrenaline and exertion by the second round of breaths, and spit bubbled up at the corner of his mouth as he blew. Shiny strings of saliva connected their lips as he drew away to plunge once more against his unmoving heart.

The engineer moved to the other side and gingerly shouldered him out of the way. “Focus on giving him air,” he said in a gruff murmur, locking his hands between the Forge’s nipples. He had a lot more muscle to throw behind each pummeling thrust, and Adam’s entire body shook with them. His head danced back against the floor, his hand, angled against the cables, thumped quietly at his side. Tav did as he asked and focusing on giving him air. “…Twenty-eight- twenty-nine, thirty, breathe.” He breathed for him. The cycle began again, “One, two, three, four…”

In between rescue breaths, he sat on his knees, bent over his charge. He kept a hand on his cheek, panting, his forehead pressed against the other man’s. “Come on,” he whispered to him, “Come on, kid… Take a breath, just breathe… Breathe-“

It had been ten minutes since his heart seized and went still. The light between his ribs was nothing but a faint ember now, and his deep skin was waxy and colorless. Tav kissed his temple, clutched his face. “Anything,” he whispered, “Anything, Adam… just give me something. Tell me you’re not gone…” They beat his chest. They shocked him, the current making him jolt like a puppet shaken by its strings. His heart wouldn’t move. It didn’t budge under the efforts of both men to get him back.

“I have a courier headed your way now,” Father Shep suddenly announced over the comm watch, making them both jump. Tav, for one, had forgotten utterly that he was waiting for them to deliver Adam’s life on a platter. “I trust you’ve got it in hand?”

He didn’t say anything. He looked over at the surgical tools on the far wall, his thumb stroking Adam’s cheek. “Gustav? Do you copy? Have you got-“ He clicked it off. Maybe they’d throw him off the nearest platform for this, but none of that mattered half so much as getting the Forge back.

He went and retrieved the surgical equipment. Gloves, laryngoscopes, intubation tubes, rib spreaders, saws. He laid a few implements he might need on the tray and ferried them over. Adam had been without a pulse for nearly twenty minutes. He’d been without artificial pulse for a little over one. Tav knelt beside him. “Hold compressions.” Marsh warily eyed the surgical tools but obliged and leaned back in his heels.

“You know how to intubate someone?” “My brother’s one of the medics, I seen him do it a few times.” “Good,” said Tav, snapping on a pair of latex gloves. He set the ventilation device between them. “Intubate him.”

Marsh huffed, but grabbed the silver laryngoscope blade and slid it over Adam’s tongue. He fed the intubation tube down his throat and kept it in place with a endotracheal tube holder looped around his cheeks and the back of his head. Then he switched on the little portable ventilator Tav had brought over and it hummed as it worked, the accordion like squeezer in the glass tube rising and falling with a seesaw rhythm to his chest now. When it expanded, his chest fell, and when it squeezed down towards the bottom, his chest rose.

Tav liberally slathered iodine over the curve of Adam’s ribs, where they were slightly elevated against the wiring. It dripped in lazy amber rivulets, staining his skin as it went. Then he snatched up a scalpel and slid it over the hollow between two ribs. He kept the incision open with the spreader clamp, wide enough that meat and muscle were visible through the wound.

More importantly, wide enough to slide a gloved hand into Adam’s chest cavity.

His fingers probed blindly through the walls of his organs and ribs until he touched something hard and metal. The spark. Its light was mostly dead by now, but with the open wound, some of its soft orange glow spilled out in weak beams of light. Tav peeked at the outside of his sternum. He could see the shadow of his hand as it closed around the organ in the center of his chest. He felt the rubbery texture of compact muscle even through the gloves he wore, and the disconcerting sensation of his lungs expanding and shuddering with the ventilator, like jellyfish brushing up against his fingers.

He cradled Adam’s heart in his hand. It was bigger than he anticipated, athletic from the years training the cardiac muscle to their peak. Tav swallowed back a sob and a laugh at the same time. He really did have the biggest heart of anyone he knew. He would make it beat again, no matter what it took. He should have felt some kind of nausea or panic at performing a surgery he had little knowledge of, but a cold calm had settled instead.

He worked his thumb in against a ventricle. His fingers made a soft cradle around the organ and he slowly began to massage it, unsure, somewhat timid strokes at first, until finally he worked himself into a steady rhythm. His other hand he braced against Adam’s sternum, watching the shadow play reflected there. He could see the contour of his hand coaxing the silent organ, pumping and squeezing life back into it. And life was going back into it.

The light was beginning to grow hotter, the shapes more distinct in his chest as Tav worked his fingers around the dense muscle. “Come on,” he urged again, “Beat… beat already…” As if hearing his command, there was a brief quiver. The light grew hot for a moment and then dimmed into the dim half light again. Tav resituated himself up on his knees and pat Adam’s chest with his free hand. “I felt that, there we go! Cmon, Adam, gimme another.”

He did. The chambers swelled into his palm and a ripple of movement ran up into his fingertips. The monitor showed a blip, then another, then went still again. He massaged his thumb against it, squeezing it into the space between his thumb and palm. It ballooned and swelled up against him and he loosened his hold, allowing it to fill and empty a few times as he held it. It stuttered and he gingerly soothed it. It beat erratically and he held it still. He could have wept if he had any energy to give to anything but this moment. Adam was trying so hard, even lying there, motionless, looking dead.

Marsh’s attention darted between the grief stricken young man and the moving shadows under Adam’s skin. Tav lowered himself over the unconscious man, wrapping his free arm around his shoulder and half embracing him. He couldn’t hug him fully, but he wanted to so badly. “Come back,” he whispered, lips grazing his arm as he folded himself over the Forge. “Please…”

His heart thumped hard against Tav’s palm. His fingers stilled as he cupped the center of his entire being. It took a moment but it beat again, flexing between his fingers. The ventilator hissing was the only sound in the room, and he felt it expand inside him, again brushing the tips of his fingers. And again his heart moved against him, the chambers sluggishly moving as if remembering how. He brushed his thumb one last time over the left ventricle, as if trying to offer it comfort. You can do it, he told it with touch alone, You can beat again. Then it did.

Tav sat, staring at the strong light cast from the spark in Adam’s sternum. He could see more clearly now the silhouette of his hand, the light shining between his fingers as, for a few moments, he could only marvel at the feeling of his heart coming back to life. Once he was sure it was well and truly beating on its own, he slid his hand from the incision and for a brief second could only sit, stunned, blood up to his forearm. He’d never imagined a world where he failed, yet by the same token he never imagined a world where he’d succeeded either. Torn between a million different reactions, he leaned his forehead down against Adam’s shoulder and wept.

—

The engine room was filled with the quiet hum of machinery when Adam finally started to stir. He suck in a deep breath and his eyes fluttered open. He was in his cot. His limbs felt heavy, they barely obeyed his command as he stretched out his arms and legs, then winced as the motion pulled at something in his ribs. He reached up and pressed blindly at the bandages looped around his chest.

He had no idea how close he’d come to dying, though he had the sense something serious had happened. He remembered air being short in his lungs. The uneven thrum of his heart as it struggled to beat, the air forced in his lungs and the defibrillator on his chest. Then it was all black. In my vague shapes and feelings. He dreamed, and wasn’t entirely sure it was a dream, that Tav had held him and kissed him over and over again. Something had punched him in the chest, then as if in apology, had stroked him there instead. He dreamed of a snake going head first down his throat and constricting his heart.

He became aware in the dark of a warm shape at his side. He looked over and made out a familiar silhouette. His inner spark was the only nightlight he really had, and its light bounced off Tav’s face. He looked exhausted. The cot was barely big enough for Adam’s large frame, and somehow the Keeper had managed to squeeze himself into the space between the Forge and the wall, sleeping there deeply. Deep enough he didn’t stir as Adam touched his cheek.

He would never know the terror he felt. He was unconscious when Father Shep arrived himself and looked for any excuse to declare Adam a lost cause, even when they’d turned the engine back on and his heart had been as strong as ever. Tav would never tell him the full story of those long minutes of death.

But nuzzled against him now, Adam didn’t think of any of that. He slid his arms around the smaller man, ignoring the twinges of pain here and there, and drew him in close. All he knew was that somehow, his Keeper had saved him. Tav hummed in his sleep and nuzzled up against the wall of warm muscle he was dimly aware of. His ear pressed to his Forge’s heart and he sighed, content.

The terror had passed.

[ms-fandomgirl]

BBHG: Okayu (Ch. 6)

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

Words: 3,581

Summary: A chance encounter in the Shibuya Train Station leaves you with a sore shoulder and a mysterious bento box. You’re willing to write the incident off and move on, otherwise preoccupied with navigating a new city and a new job, but a bombastic blond, meddling friend, and fate itself seem to have other plans.

Genre: Pro Hero AU, fluff, strangers to lovers, medical setting

Links: Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Masterlist | Cross-posted on Ao3!

Warning: Sickness (not life threatening)

Okayu - A simple Japanese rice porridge made of only water and rice. Known as a healing food, it is a staple to serve when someone is sick as the mild porridge is both easy on the stomach and supposed to restore energy.

Previously…

“Did I die and go to heaven? Because you look like an angel.”

The voice was weak, barely a whisper, but it sent a shock through the room nonetheless. It wasn’t Bakugou who had said that terrible pickup line, and it certainly wasn’t yourself.

You pivoted on your heel so quickly that you almost fell over, gripping the side of the bed for stability. Bakugou was just as fast, appearing at the bedside in an instant. You peered down with your mouth slightly open in awe, and electrifying yellow eyes stared right back at you.

Pro-Hero Chargebolt was awake.

He grinned up at you despite his weak state, relentless and seemingly oblivious as to why you had yet to say a word. His eyes darted over to Bakugou, and his smile broadened as he directed his next words toward the stricken blond. 

“You look a little pale right now, Bakubro. Maybe you need some vitamin me in your life to feel better.”

Bakugou spluttered in indignation, opening his mouth to no doubt berate his friend, but another voice beat him to it.

“I can’t believe the first thing I hear after waking up in this hospital is your cringe pickup lines, bro.”

You snapped your head over toward the other side of the room, eyes widening as you took in a groggy Red Riot crossing his arms in his bed.

“Kirishima!” Bakugou cried, immediately making his way over to him.

“Oh, so he gets a ‘Kirishima’ but I don’t even get a response to my amazing opener? What am I, chopped liver?” Chargebolt grumbled.

Without missing a beat, Bakogou responded. “Yes.”  

“Rude, bro. So rude.” He turned to you then, lowering his voice as though he was confiding in an old friend.  “If I’d known this is the welcome I’d get, I might as well pass out again.”

You reached out to touch his forehead on instinct, glancing at the monitor beside him as you did so. “You don’t actually feel like you are going to, do you?”

He chucked at your reaction, slightly shaking his head before wincing. “Well, I feel like I got slammed into a building, but other than that I’m just peachy. I don’t really remember how I got here though. Could you help me out, beautiful?”

You nodded over to Red Riot, catching his eye before beginning your explanation. As he turned your way, you subtly reached toward the pager clipped into your pants, pressing the button on the side of it before focusing your attention on the boys once again.

“Both of you were attacked during a public hero parade about two weeks ago by a villain, now dubbed ‘Basilisk’ by the media. His quirk allows him to inject unknown toxins within his victims which, at the very least, cause the body to shut down into a coma. However, more recent attacks have caused more severe symptoms, such as seizures and vomiting.”

The two heroes stared at you in shock, not quite believing the news you dropped on them. They briefly glanced at Bakugou, who agreed with your summary. It was then that the weight of the situation fully sunk in, and the room was left in a heavy silence. In fact, it was so silent that you easily heard the patter of footsteps rapidly echoing down the hallway. The door burst open, revealing a flustered Dr. Hiyashi.

“What’s wrong?” he gasped. Four pairs of eyes stared back at him.  

“Ah.” He straightened his coat, donning a professional demeanor before slowly walking into the room. “Pro Heroes Red Riot and Chargebolt, let me first offer you my sincerest relief that you are awake.”

Red Riot and Chargebolt accepted his statement graciously, although you noticed Chargebolt suppressing a chuckle at the doctor’s dramatic entrance.

“How are your memories? Do you know how you got here?” he asked.

Chargebolt answered first.

“Nurse-” he paused for a second, eyes filled with guilt as he realized he had no clue what your name was. You laughed it off, softly telling it to him so he could continue once he repeated it. “-filled us in on the situation. I can’t really remember much of the parade or how I got injected unfortunately, but I remember everything leading up to it.”

“Good, good.” He turned to you then, addressing you directly. “I contacted Hina to let her know of this new development. She should be here shortly, but-”

He paused his sentence to look at you, really look at you, and you felt like an organism squirming under a microscope. You straightened your spine, but you knew for a fact that you hadn’t fixed your hair since the park, and you belatedly wondered if your face was still puffy from your breakdown earlier.

“You’ve had a big day. I think you should go home for the afternoon.” His voice was gentle, taking on almost a paternal tone. You would have been mildly offended if you weren’t so exhausted.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to make things more difficult-” you began, but a gruff voice interrupted your weak protest.

“You should go. You look dead on your feet.”

You glared at Bakugou, but his gaze remained firm as he stared you down. Sensing that this was a fight you wouldn’t win, you looked away, shrugging your shoulders lightly. You had to admit, now that the adrenaline of Chargebolt’s awakening had worn off, you were left feeling even more tired than before. As Bakugou’s friends began to heckle him about his rough words, you turned to Dr. Hiyashi, thanking him for the opportunity.

You were just wondering how you could quietly leave when Hina, your savior once again, walked through the door with an anxious Suneater behind her. Taking the opportunity, you managed to slip behind them as Dr. Hiyashi filled her in on the situation. You tried to be relatively sneaky in the transition, but if you had turned around, you would have noticed a pair of ruby eyes trailing you until you shut the door behind you.

When you finally made it home, you were barely able to change out of your work clothes before collapsing onto your bed. The beginnings of a headache pressed against your forehead, and even the diffused light of your room felt too bright for your eyes. Certain that a nap would fix your problems, you easily drifted to sleep.

However, when you woke up at dusk, the weariness hadn’t gone away.

In fact, everything had gotten worse. Your favorite soft blanket was shoved to the far side of the bed, its presence creating a constrictive furnace with the heat radiating off of your body despite the chills running up and down your arms. The small headache had turned painful, your skull feeling like it was being split in two as you curled up into a miserable ball on your bed. You knew you needed to go to the bathroom to break out your ibuprofen, take your temperature, and grab a cold rag, but the thought of moving made you shudder, the task insurmountable.

Instead, you pulled out your phone, first texting Hina about your situation and then Shiozaki. The action was small, but it had cost you a large amount of energy. You let your phone slip out of your grasp as you collapsed back onto the bed, hearing the small chime of a new notification but not bothering to respond. You had begun drifting off into a slight doze when a sudden noise startled you awake.

Knock.

Knock.

Knock.

Your eyes shot to your door, but your body refused to move even an inch. You let out a unintelligible groan in form of greeting, and the person seemed satisfied at your response. A slight shuffling could be hold, and the clink of something ceramic against hardwood, and then silence once again descended around you.

Somehow, you eventually found it within yourself to shuffle over to the door, carefully opening it to reveal your offering: a packet of rice crackers, a bottle of water, a thermometer, and a bottle of ibuprofen. Meager fare, but you were extremely grateful for anything that would save you an extra trip outside of your room.

Returning to the comfort of your bed, you went for the thermometer first, sticking it into your mouth quickly to read out the inevitable results. While it loaded, you fished out your phone to send a quick text of thanks to Shiozaki. At this point, you knew she would be out of the apartment and checked into a hotel, so this would be your last contact with her before the message proclaiming you better. She had a fear about getting sick, which you had learned very quickly upon getting the flu after moving in. You were just thankful she had been willing to help you before fleeing.

The electric beep of the thermometer pulled you from your thoughts, and you grimaced as you read 101.2 degrees Fahrenheit. Expected, but definitely not good. You turned your attention toward the ibuprofen next, popping two in your mouth quickly followed by a large gulp of water. After all but inhaling the crackers, you settled down once again, content to stare at the ceiling as you let your drowsiness overtake you, this time hopefully to carry you through the night.

The good news was that you slept through the night, morning, and well into the afternoon. The bad news was that your whole body felt sore, and you thought you might be dying soon, if not from illness then from the commotion outside your door. The voices were indistinguishable through the walls of your apartment, but they were increasing in volume and based on the intermittent bangs on your front door, you were pretty sure they were aimed at you.

Fumbling around in your nest of blankets, you grabbed your phone as quickly as you could before slipping down to the floor and crawling your way into the closet. Sure, you were on the twelfth floor, but people could fly these days, and in your fever-addled brain, this seemed like the smartest option. Swiping your phone open, you immediately began dialing the police, only to pause before clicking the call button. What if you were blowing things out of proportion? What if you were hallucinating? But you still wanted someone to check on you; someone who would be able to take a fight if necessary too. You clicked out of the keypad, thumb scrolling through your contacts until it landed on your person of choice.

The phone only rang once before he picked up.

“It’s about damn time you answered your phone,” Bakugou snapped.

“Bakugou, you’ve got to help me,” you whispered, ignoring his greeting. “There’s someone banging on my apartment door and I think they’re out to get me.”

“Huh?” Bakugou exclaimed, sounding genuinely taken aback. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“There’s someone trying to Break. Into. My. Apartment.”

“What-no there’s not!”

You groaned in frustration. “And how would you know that? I know what I’m hearing!”

“And I know what I’m seeing!” he argued. “The only people in this hallway are me and an old lady in a bathrobe.” 

“How dare you have the gall-” a shrill voice cut through the speaker, and you froze. You knew that voice. It was your crabby neighbor, Mrs. Fukigen, who would bang on the wall if you even vacuumed too late in the day. And wait, did he just say that he was in the hallway? That statement, plus his strange greeting, finally helped you connect the dots. You quickly swiped over to your unread messages for confirmation, only to see fifteen unread notifications.

Oh no.

Ice ran through your veins, but for a completely different reason now than before. You no longer feared a home invasion, but you did fear whatever Mrs. Fukigen and Bakugou could get up to if they were left alone any longer. You didn’t know what types of hero codes of ethics Bakugou was bound to, but you could easily see a world where Bakugou would swing on an old lady, especially one like Mrs. Fukigen who even made you daydream of resorting to violence from time to time.

You shot to your feet in a panic, which proved to be a very big mistake as you stumbled into the wall. Nevertheless, you persisted, making your way to the door as quickly as you could. After all, the fate of your apartment complex depended on it.

Finally making it to the door, you wrenched it open, only to be greeted with the sight of Mrs. Fukigen’s bony finger pointed centimeters from Bakugou’s nose. At the sound, both parties stopped their fighting in order to gape at you. It was only then in the sudden silence that you realized how you must have looked: disheveled clothes, messy hair, and on death’s doorstep.

Immediately Mrs. Fukigen retracted as though she had been attacked, hands covering her mouth and nose as she backed away towards her door. All notions of arguing abandoned at your appearance.

“Stay back now,” she snapped at you, as though you were no longer her neighbor but some diseased final boss. “And open your windows, while you’re at it. I can’t afford to catch whatever illness you have through the vents.”

And with that closing statement, the door to her apartment slammed shut.

Now, only Bakugou remained, taking in your state wearily as you leaned against the door for support. However, unlike Mrs. Fukigen, he was a hero, not a coward. Instead of commenting on your appearance, as you were expecting him to do, he merely held up a large brown paper sack as a peace offering.

“Can I come in?”

You shrugged, stepping back into your apartment.

“At your own risk.”

He huffed out a laugh, crossing the threshold without hesitation. You should have asked him why he was here. Even better, you should have asked him how he knew where you lived. But just having that brief interaction at the doorway of your apartment had winded you, so you instead curled up into the corner of your couch, peering at him as he sauntered around your kitchen like he owned it.

“Bowls?” he asked, opening cabinets and drawers at random.

“Cabinet to the left of the stove,” you supplied.

He nodded in satisfaction as he continued whatever mission he had set his mind to. You reached behind you, wrapping yourself in the dark green woven throw on the back of the couch. The room filled with silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. In fact, it felt surprisingly natural, Bakugou’s presence having blended naturally into the atmosphere of your home instead of invading it, as so many might assume. The low whir of the microwave provided a gentle white noise that had your head nodding, and it wasn’t until a gentle prod of your shoulder that you realized you had fallen asleep.

“Here, eat this.”

Bakugou’s manners were as lacking as ever, but the food on the tray he had thrust in front of you more than made up for it. Two steaming bowls paired with a mug of matcha made your previously uneasy stomach rumble in hunger. The larger bowl was filled with a golden miso soup, cubes of soft tofu and delicate pieces of torn seaweed floating in the broth to create a mouthwatering aroma. The other bowl held a simple okayu, although the slightly congealed state of the rice told you that it had been cooked to perfection.

Your arms shot out faster than you could think, only for Bakugou to quickly back away in response.

“Are you crazy? You’ll spill everything on yourself if you move like that,” he snapped.

You weren’t sure whether he was more concerned for you or the food, but he did have a good point regardless. You settled back into the couch, patting your lap for him to set the tray onto. He eyed you apprehensively, as though you were playing a trick on him, before carefully setting the tray on you. 

As expected, the food was absolutely delicious. You blamed your semi-delirious state for the moan that escaped your lips after your first bite. You sheepishly glanced at Bakugou who rolled his eyes at your display, although you swore his cheeks were slightly pink.

“Out of all of the food I cook you, this is your favorite?” he grumbled, although it wasn’t truly a complaint.

You cracked a small smile, eyes closing in satisfaction as you spooned down more of the okayu. “What can I say? I’m a simple woman.”

He scoffed in agreement. “Apparently so. I barge into your apartment in the middle of the day, and you don’t at least question it a little? A normal person with a brain would wonder how I got here.”

You shrugged, unaffected by his small jab. “I figured you probably got the address from Shiozaki, or maybe even Hina. Or through your super secret hero files.”

It seemed logical to you, but the stunned expression and slight part of his lips painted a clear picture of Bakugou’s shock.

“And you don’t care?”

“Why would I?” you questioned back. “At this point, I’d hope to have at least considered us friends. But the real question I want to know is why you’re here, not how.”

The words sat heavy in the room, so much so that you almost regretted saying them. Bakugou had kept the conversation lighthearted until now, and you felt like a fool for ruining it. Yet you were curious, and that curiosity only grew as you watched his response. His eyebrows drew close in concentration, and it took several times of his mouth opening and closing before words were eventually forced out. 

“It was my turn.”

You tilted your head, urging him to continue with a wave of your spoon.

“Today was my turn to make lunch, but when I showed up at the hospital, you weren’t there. I found your nurse buddy and she told me you were out, so I adjusted accordingly.”

You gave him an incredulous stare. “You hunt down my address, make me homemade miso soup and okayu, and brave Mrs. Fukigen all to stick to routine?”

He glared at you, and you playfully stuck your tongue out in response.

“And here I thought it was because you cared,” you joked.

But Bakugou didn’t laugh. Instead, he turned his face away and began mumbling out a string of half-hearted insults. Yet it was unmistakable now: the blush you thought you saw earlier now extended to the tips of his ears, growing in intensity as you couldn’t contain your giggles at the state of him. He lightly shoved your shoulder in an attempt to get you to stop, but it only made things worse. His petulance and pouty demeanor was the funniest thing you had ever seen in your state of sickness, and it wasn’t until you were gasping for air that you were finally able to settle down.

“You done?” he grumbled, although you could tell from the sparkle in his eye that he wasn’t truly angry at all.

You nodded, both in regard to your meal and your hysterics, shoving the tray in his general direction. He shook his head as he retrieved it, but he dutifully took your dishes to the sink. You stared unabashedly as he did so, marveling at the fact that Pro-Hero Dynamight was currently washing your dishes. It sounded so absurd, yet at the same time, it made complete sense. Maybe it was because you had only ever seen him as “good-smelling asshole” or Bakugou, but you much preferred this version of him to whatever was projected on the news channels.

The tap shut off with a soft click, and the room was once again blanketed in a soft silence that made your eyelids begin to droop. You hadn’t realized you had curled up onto the couch until your head rested on the arm rest, and you hadn’t realized your eyes had closed until a warm palm pressed against your forehead.

“Still got a bit of a fever,” Bakugou tsked.

“Feel better though,” you muttered in response, quickly fading like the rays of orange sunlight illuminating the apartment. “Thank you.”

You heard an affirmation, and then silence, before two strong arms wrapped around you, pulling both you and your blanket up into the air. Fully-conscious you might have screamed, both out of surprise or embarrassment, but semi-conscious was completely focused in on the warm that radiated from the chest you were gathered into. You were further pleased to note that the scent of warm caramel and expensive smelling cologne only strengthened as you burrowed deeper in your makeshift cocoon, resting your head on his chest. Just as you had settled in, the short trip was over, and you were being gingerly set on your bed.

“I’ll be back tomorrow, so you better open your door this time.”

Your eyes squinted open, taking in his broad silhouette in the doorway. A sleepy reply slipped from your lips before you could even think about it, quiet yet full of confidence that left no room for doubt.

“Always.”

A/N: I bet you thought I had given up! I'm sorry it's taken so long, but life got super busy, and I also took a breather from writing for a bit as I focused on other projects. However, what I said in the beginning still stands: I will finish this story. Thank you so much to everyone who has stuck with me so far, and welcome to any new readers!

As always, reblogs and likes are greatly appreciated, but please do not repost here or on other platforms. However, fan arts, edits, or anything like that are beyond amazing and totally welcome! If you have a question about it, just ask me.

Tag List: @lavender99, @gold24fish, @bqkuho3, @satorulicious, @cringeycookies, @summrwalkr, @nyxmania, @poopoobuttsy, @st1rvoid, @kitzusune, @nindevorak, @stxrrielle, @cax-per, @kisskissshutmydoor, @kazuumii,  @nnubee, @neutralevilxx, @idk-sam, @berryvioo, @hoothootreiber, @sikuthealien, @boopjuice, @crazypersonrandom, @aecarstairs, @andysdrafts, @xenasolos, @dndmell,

If you would like to be added to the tag list, let me know in the comments! Also, if the tag list DIDN'T work, please let me know as well. I think I figured out the problem, but we'll see. Hyperlinks are not my specialty.

[revalition]

OCT 15 - ENDURANCE Take the blows. Don’t let the world kill you.

Endurance!! I don't love him, but that's okay. He's just not as interesting to me as the others, and spearheads the fascist questline. that definitely does him no favours. but I do cherish all the skills nonetheless, including him

Quotes under the cut!

endurance fun facts from my spreadsheet:

- swear score of 8 - damages and heals an equal amount of morale - says "we" more than "I" (almost double) - Endurance says "sorry" just once, when you're about to die

the heart attack endurance quotes are really really sad. which makes them excellent. but it's too painful for me to look at and I want to be able to use these posts as references so they're being omitted!

anyway, endurance quotes!

endurance definitely directing the blame back up to the intellect group here haha

this is so funny to me. endurance begrudgingly letting you have both kim and dora in his hypothetical aerostatic

I wasn't sure if I should give this one to endurance or PT, but I really like it. lovingly adorn him in a ceramic shell

your stomach doing his job well

uhm, is that how it works honey?

what is wrong with this skill?? (so, so many things)

see, there's 'what's wrong with him' said with utmost affection, like when I look at electrochemistry. and then there's without the affection. that's the version endurance gets. sorry my guy

(if you have your badge he confirms it's not your birthday haha) just the idea of harry asking one of his own skills if it's his birthday...

this heartwarming dialogue about being sober! I'm pretty sure it's not implemented in the game but I love it all the same.

this is a godly endurance check for some reason?? (maybe it's a fail? I can't tell on Fayde...)

endurance no! they're all idiots...

hghh endurance ew

this is too funny. tutorial agent not you too...!

this is so totally not here just because volition said it (picking "wait, get who back?" immediately damages volition btw, poor bby) ultramarathon is such a funny nickname. fitting enough, I suppose.

endurance is so stupid...

also endurance compromised!

amazing. ty endurance. I'm sure that's making Harry feel better

alternate:

YOU - Oh my god, I'm going to die! ENDURANCE - Yeah, probably, one day. But not this very minute.

endurance knowing what a focal epileptic seizure is and where it's occurring and then just going i'unno when asked if it's dangerous... why is he like this.

also you're *probably* going to die one day? cmon buddy

instead of asking why, you can also say:

YOU - Don't you sass me. Get on with the story.

hehe. Zone of Irredeemable Catastrophe! :(

of course your gut does, it has to do with gary... savvy having no interest in it is wonderful

as always much love for this infra-materialism book shutting down everyone's methods of thinking (except inland's)

running reservoirs haha. extremely rare polite endurance

I *think* I understand what he's trying to say... Volition has it right. Sometimes you need to be unmade to heal.

stupid endurance...

seagull dialogue has to be in here cause it's awesome. the body remembers... (also endurance saying good boy??)

first endurance line is the antipassive (failure) and the second one is the success. I don't think he's super impressed...

this is so random, just in the middle of talking to klaasje on the first day. uhm good job endurance...

what a normal, straight thing to think! all the skills chiming in on the smoker is so funny to me

don it and live!!

I have two screenshot spots left so here are my WIPs :)

he's just in the background in the banner one (the second one). I think he came out pretty cool in the spring storm one though (first one)

that's it! endurance is my least favourite of the fys skills by a landslide. I'm very excited for the rest of them :)

[satansaidnottoday]

When you get sick

Based on the Uno reverse Beel pulled in the last post.

Info: Human AU, GN!Mc.

Summary: You've got the cold and now your boyfriend must take care of you.

Warnings: general talk of sickness.

Lucifer

Has "do what I say, not what I do" energy. 

He urges you to take time off and rest. Says it's very important to relax for a timely recovery. Be sure to remember his exact words for the next time he is sick.

Will try to get out of work earlier so he can take care of you. He calls you throughout the day to see how you're doing and if you need anything. If you're in a really bad condition, he will take time off to take care of you.

He can't cook, but will order any foods you like. 

He will cuddle you if you ask, but won't offer on his own. He is a little scared of it being contagious. 

When you feel better, he won't expect anything from you but will accept any gestures of gratitude you give him.

Mammon

Whiny.

Thinks you're going to die.

You have to reassure him that it's just a cold every thirty minutes. I will try to get you to the hospital anyway.

He is completely at your service from day one. Do not dare move a muscle; the great Mammon has everything covered for you.

You have a fresh supply of hot tea always by your side. He makes sure you get all of your meals. He keeps a tally of every medicine you need to take. You basically have a personal nurse.

Lots of cuddles and massages.

If you're trembling at all because of the fever, he will hold you as if you were having a seizure.

He cries a lot when you're in pain, probably more than you.

When you're feeling better, he will expect at the very least a thank-you gift. A shopping spree would be preferable.

Leviathan

He doesn't know what to do.

Finds everything to be too overwhelming. He is really worried about you and wants to help, but he has no idea how to take care of a sick person. So, of course, he goes back to the person who used to take care of him when he was sick. Mammon.

He tries his hardest to be just as supportive, but it doesn't go well. The tea is always too hot or too cold, he only knows how to make ramen, and he keeps forgetting about the ibuprofen!

In the end, the best he can do for you is bring you more tissue boxes and lay down by your side while you watch movies. You reassure him that this is more than enough, but he still feels a little guilty.

When you feel better, make a great spectacle about how helpful he was. He did miss a butch of seasonal releases just to stay with you.

Satan

He will insist you take time off the moment symptoms start to show.

Shows up at your house with a butch of medicinal herbs. Mint to open up your nose, lavender to help with the headache, cardamom for... Something? He knows it had some healing property, but seems to have forgotten. He makes you some soup with it just in case it was important.

Won't go near you, even if you ask. Most he'd do is help you get around if your muscles are aching.

He will tell you about his latest read and how it made him feel. If you have read it, he will ask you to compare notes. Just trying to keep you entertained any way he can.

He brings all of his favorite tea blends for you to try out.

He won't expect anything in return for his care. He loves you, and that's just what you do for the people you love.

Asmodeus

Whiny 2.0

"My poor, beautiful thing."

He might not know a lot about caring for the sick, but he knows a lot about self-care. You will still have a runny nose, but your skin will shine, baby. 

He will pamper you. Have all of the blankets. Sleep for as long as you want. Ask for any food, and he will get it for you. With unlimited snacks, you can even have his favorite chocolates. He will watch all of your comfort shows and movies with you.

Baths, many baths. They are really good when you're sick; they relax your muscles and help the bad energies leave the body.

As soon as you're feeling good, it's his turn to be pampered! So better be prepared.

Beelzebub

If nothing else, you're well fed.

All healthy meals, he won't let you indulge in sweets. Your body needs protein and veggies right now, and he will have them for you at every meal. 

Will cut fruit for you as snack.

Pushes you to do some light exercises when you can. Sweat out the sickness.

He is very supportive, constantly telling you you're going to be okay. He will stay by your side every single minute.

He will carry you around if your muscles are sore.

When you're feeling better, he will make you desert. For the days he has you surviving on steamed broccoli and rice.

Belphegor

This is actually great news.

He gets to cuddle with you all day, and you won't be able to escape. He can even use you as an excuse to take a day off. No work, no school, just napping with his favorite person. Every day should be like that.

If only you didn't have to be sick for it to happen. 

He doesn't know much about taking care of someone. Being the youngest one, everyone else always took care of him. But he doesn't like seeing you hurt, so he will try his best.

The best medicine he can offer you is a good nap in his arms, but he will try some of Satan's medicinal teas. If needed, he will get Lucifer to drive him to the pharmacy. 

He doesn't know a thing about eating healthy, so you will get a diet of chips, pastries, and candy.

If you manage to get better, he will whine about not having your full attention anymore.

Thanks for reading!

[moonlight-tmd]

How about Bumblebee ships where Bee has a protective uncle who is pretty much cybertronian Doomguy?

Also, how would others react to it?

Ya know, i had an idea related to the one with Bee having a decepticon dad.

What if Elita and Bee were actually related?

Like, we all seen how similar these two are, from personality to looks, it would only make sense if they were family. I was thinking of attaching it to the idea of Bee having a 'con dad but let's see if i can cook up something different...

So, I suppose the way it happened is that Bee's parents died cuz war when he was a tiny bitty. Elita, being his aunt, took him in and raised him. Bee was too little to remember his parents so Elita did her best to tell him about them when he was older. Besides her, he didn't have any other relatives.

Then, one day Elita had to leave for some mission. She promised her nephew that she'll be back soon... but she never did. Bee was in the middle of trying pass academy. Elita hired Arcee to look after Bee when she wasn't present, when the news of Elita dying on a mission reached them Bee refused to believe. He knew Auntie Eli better than anyone, he knew that she wouldn't just perish like that. Arcee stayed with him until he was old enough to be on his own, she helped him get around in life to the best of her capabilities.

Bee tried to have a normal job like Arcee suggested but it just didn't sit with him. From all the stories Auntie Eli told him about being an Elite Guard he wanted to follow her pedesteps and become one too.

He got into boot camp and then- hell started. Bee was about to quit completely when he met Bulkhead and Longarm. Still, even with the newfound hope he got kicked out. Bulkhead was kind enough to pull him into the repair crew so he won't stay unemployed.

All this time alone Bee started to slowly lose hope to ever see his aunt again... that's until they crashed on Earth.

First year and few months were quiet but then Decepticons came. And wouldn't you know-

The fight was rather messy, at some point the structures on the demolition zone started to crumble and both parties had to run. Team Prime regrouped after the building fell and the 'cons were gone. Except Bee was nowhere in sight. They searched the entire place but there was no trace of him...

Bee woke up in dark place. His frame ached, made sense considering he remembered being hit with rubble while cornered by a giant spider. What he didn't expect was him laying in some form of medbay in a cave and said spider being the one tending to him.

He was quick to jump to his pedes and take a defensive stand. He demanded answers but the femme only told him to calm down and rest. She had that worried and hurt expression on her that Bee couldn't quite place... at least until she said one specific word.

"I wouldn't hurt one of mine, Sunny." She said at some point of their half-argument. Sunny- that nickname was only used by his aunt when Bee needed comfort.

"Wai- h-how do you..?" Bee's Spark seemed to have a seizure as he tried to comprehend what she just said. She only gave him that small kind smile- an expression that gave Bee a painful realization. "...Auntie Eli?"

She nodded and Bee could only run to her and hug her as tight as her could and cry. They talked, Blackarachnia told him vaguelly where's she's been and what she did in all these years, but she never quite told him why she was a spider- all she said was that it was an accident on a mission. Bee felt so sad for her, she went thru so much all alone. He caught onto the little mention of how ugly she was when she was talking and comforted her- she was his aunt always and forever. He even changed the little nickname 'Auntie Eli' to 'Auntie Ari' cuz her name changed.

After she patched Bee up she took him outside. She told Bee to not tell anyone about it so when he came back to base he lied saying that 'cons captured him but he escaped. The others bought it.

And so Bee sneaks out sometime to go visit Blackarachnia. Sometimes they stay hidden and talk, sometimes they go somewhere far to have fun. Sometimes Bee brings her gifts to use or decorate her not-so-little cave-house. One thing about having an aunt who's a scientist is that she can fix you up like a medic, Bee most often goes to her if he has a crash while doing something behind others' backs. Blackarachnia is the type to care about whether he won that race rather than what he did is illegal, spares Bee hearing a scolding for Primus-knows-which time.

They tried to keep the enemy charade going- despite her going rogue on Megatron, she still hated Optimus and his bunch. That's until one particular fight when Starscream showed up- she was hididng from them cuz some stray organic reported suspicious activity and Star showed up out of nowhere and started fighting them. He threw Bee off a tall building, before others had a chance to do something Blackarachnia swooped in spiderman-style and caught him. Starscream fled and she lowered Bee to the ground and started looking over him to injuries, before others got too close she also fled.

Once they got back to base they were wondering what has happened, in their talk trying to figure out why Arachnia would save Bee, said scout slipped.

He ended up spilling that Blackarachnia is his aunt- of course, she used to behave and look different. He told them that she was supposedly dead but he knew better and hey, it was true! She may not be the nicest person now but she's still family.

I suppose Ratchet would still be suspicious of her cuz he heard what kinda shit she can pull.

Bulkhead has heard the full story of Bee's aunt going missing long ago- he's happy that Bee finally found her but at the same time he's kinda worried cuz she is kinda evil.

Sari is happy for him, she feels bad for the gal but she's mostly happy for them to have found each other. She did ask Bee to take her for a visit but he always said he'd have to ask his aunt first. She may have gotten to meet her one time, it was quite a fun.

Optimus... he feels all shocked, stupid and guilty- Elita never told him nor Sentinel about having a nephew. When he first saw Bee he instantly got remined of Elita, he was also the reason she went missing in the first place... he couldn't look Bee in the optic after that.

I think he would give in and tell Bee. He's ask him to speak privately outside and he'll tell him he knew Elita when they were younger. That they went to the same academy, they were on the same team... that he was on a mission with her and something went wrong and he couldn't help her in time. It didn't matter if Bee hated him afterwards, at least he'll take this weight of keeping it a secret off his Spark. To his surprise, Bee wasn't mad at him. In fact he was sympathetic towards Optimus and even asked if he knew anything more about her. They spend the evening talking about Elita and how she used to be, Bee even said some stuff about her new self from the times he snuck out to hang out with her.

So now that the information is out in the open, Bee doesn't have to hide if he wants to go see his aunt. I think at some point, Bee would ask if he can let her come over for some holiday or something. The others are wary at first but Bee told them she's not gonna do anything- Bee told them that she said 'she won't bother them if they don't bother her' and so far she's been sticking to it. No more trouble from her side. It would be very awkward for Optimus tho- like, imagine if she came over for christmas and it was just this tense atmosphere around the two- at least until Bee brings out the drinks and they start to chat... Bee did not know they used to date in academy. "What others do with their lives is not your business... also, you were too young to know this stuff." Arachnia said when Bee argued why she didn't tell him.

I think at some point Elita Guard would visit and also learn the fact Bee is family with her. Sentinel is on the first fire- Arachnia has heard enough of what he pulled with her dear nephew to want to kill him, and keep reviving him just to keep killing him again and again and again. In the end he only got slammed into the wall and nearly decapitated with a threat of making him go to the deepest of Pits if he ever hurt Bee again. Oh, and she also told him she's Elita before that to add to the injury.

Jazz and Jettwins are kinda scared of her, she can be fun but she can also kill you if you make a wrong move so...

As for the ships reactions- Prowl would be worried cuz Blackarachnia is not someone to play with- but she was Bee's aunt and she did save him so maybe she's not as evil? He tries to stay positive for Bee's sake but he always has an optic on her just in case. (If he wasn't dating Bee he'd be just worried for Bee's safety.)

ShockBee- Blackarachnia knows Shockwave. Shockwave knows Blackarachnia. If she learned that Bee and Shock are dating(when he's disguised) she would take him when no one is looking and threaten to do him worse than Blitzwing if he tried anything with her nephew. Being a double agent also meant a treacherous relationship with someone of the opposite faction, she's not gonna take chances and let Bee become his toy. She'll even make him break up with Bee if need be. Shockwave's processor is working on the highest setting, trying to come up with a solution to make peace with all he got going on in his life. Bee thinks Longarm is scared of his aunt but in reality he's actually scared not knowing what to do.

And finally, BlitzBee. I think Blitz would find out way sooner than the others- meaning that Blackarachnia caught Bee alone in the forest just before Blitz arrived at the meeting. Yeah, they tried to kill each other but Bee managed to calm them down to talk. Both were alarmed and confused that the other talked to Bee like they knew each other...

Blitz was shocked when he heard the same person that messed up his processor is his beloved's aunt. Arachnia was more disappointed and worried than angry but she still hid it behind anger. Blitzwing wasn't the best mech and she didn't want Bee getting hurt by this unstable scrapheap... yeah Bee was not having a good time.

Somehow they all made it out alive and Bee got a little bit of alone time with Blitz. Next time Bee was visiting his aunt of course she demanded answers- Bee assured her that Blitz is good to him and won't do anything to harm him.

Blitz on the other hand felt a bit betrayed that Bee didn't tell him but at the same time he understood why. All of his personalities could not have had a harder time existing with one another... In the end he couldn't stay mad at him for having a family so it was all good.

I think Bee would try to get them to ease up so he tries to get them to hang out more like family. It kind of works? There's still some bitterness towards one another but at least they can talk without making it into an argument.

If the others find out about Bee and Blitz, Arachnia would and will force them to let Bee have a relationship and do some not nice things if they don't.

She may be smaller than most of them but she's definitely someone you DON'T want to mess with. She has ways of making folks suffer more than they can imagine and she will do them if it means protecting her only joy in life that is Bee.

I really like the side idea of Optimus making peace with Elita-now-Blackarachnia and them getting back together. Optimus is just trying to be a good uncle and Bee making it an experience to remember (bad) for his amusement. They grow to like each other tho.

[morganbritton132]

How are our lovely Ozzy and Joan dealing with the tension in the household? Are they on protective comfort mode?

Ozzy and Joan – much like all of Eddie’s Tiktok followers – are very aware of the tension in the house. They provide their humans with comfort and support the only way they know how.

Steve is and will always be Ozzy’s first priority and for the last month, Steve has been stressed out, upset, and at time, borderline inconsolable. Ozzy is doing what he can to provide Steve with what he needs, but he’s in an awkward position.

One the things that he does when Steve gets overwhelmed and upset like this, is find a person that can help console him. The only other person in the house is Eddie and Eddie contributing to Steve’s emotional distress. So, Ozzy is providing Steve with tactile stimulation when he’s overwhelmed with his emotions, a physical presence when he’s too in his head, and helps Steve through the absence seizures he’s been having due to stress.

The only benefit to this situation is that when Steve gets like this, he just starts mentally shutting down and tends to stay on the couch or in bed. Steve is fairly active so at least he’s not on a jog or handling sharp objects when the likelihood of a seizure is high.

Once Steve goes to bed or takes a nap, Ozzy will check on Eddie and provide what he thinks Eddie needs. It’s typically comfort. Eddie seems to relax more when he is doing something with his hands and petting Ozzy gives him that. It also helps relax Eddie knowing that if Ozzy is with him than Steve is fine.

Joan tends to run and hide when the screaming starts and only comes out when it’s done. She’ll find whatever human that Ozzy is not with and typically just headbutts them until they pet her. Joan doesn’t have Ozzy’s training so she doesn’t pick up on all the nuance, but she picks up enough to know that her presence is helpful.

With Steve, she tends to just lay on him because Steve won’t move if she does that. Ozzy is often trying to get Steve to sit down or stay where he’s at when he’s post-ictal, so she thinks that this is helpful (It is, hearing her purr while laying on his chest always makes Steve feel better).

With Eddie, she’s more hands on. She will weave between his legs or paw at him. She’ll reach up and rub her face against his. She lets him pet her and hold her, and meows in response when he talks. It gives Eddie an audience to vent his feelings to which is exactly what he needs.