#my left side is mobile and weak

[curiosity-killed]

At this point, I think my mobility was determined by someone throwing darts at a anatomy diagram

[hotwings0203]

“Daddy?”

You moan and weakly toss your head to your left as you hear the cellar door open

Tw: noncon, blood, kidnapping, abuse, whipping, the usual shindig

His chuckle reverberates throughout the dark room, and you can’t help but flinch at every footstep coming down the rickety steps. Your head is pounding, your heart seems to be caught in your throat and the dingy light in the cellar keeps swaying amidst the draft.

His figure descending towards you makes you nauseous, but you're not dumb enough to fall for his good-natured demeanor as he descends and approaches towards you.

Full eye-contact, a smile as best as you can manage it, and body turned toward him.

As if the chains wrapping around your body like some fucked-up gift wrapping allowed you any mobility anyways .

"Hi there, princess," he coos at you before squatting in front of your weak and bound form, lifting your chin up at him gently with his thumb and forefinger.

You hum quietly and try to swallow the cotton that seems to invade your mouth at the dark humor in his eyes.

"You miss me?"

Nodding as vigorously as you can, you scrunch your eyebrows together and pout your lips the way you know hope melts him. The healing cuts across your forehead and cheeks sting as the scabs are pulled taut with the way you're manipulating your facial expression, but if that's the price to pay to satiate put off his sick desires, then so be it.

"I-"

You cough and desperately try to wet your lips with your tongue to get rid of the raspy warble, and instead attempt to don a soft, higher pitched voice.

He doesn't like it when you give him the impression he's neglectful.

"I m-missed you daddy. Wanted to have your arms around me and feel you, and, and.."

You trail off hopelessly as you scramble for what else he'd want to hear, but in the time your hesitation settles uneasily in the air, his hand has already reached around behind his back to produce a strange black silk bandana.

"Yeah?" He simpers at your panicked expression seeing the new toy. "Guess you can't have missed me that much if you stopped screaming for me."

Your face falls.

That sick fuck

He slaps your face, hard, and violently rips your thighs apart. You yelp and flinch as he cups underneath your knees and brings them up next to your head.

Your legs shake at the strain of being folded in half after being immobile for so long, and you feel the threat of a severe cramp creeping in your calves. He merely grips your legs tighter and shoves you harder against the wall, practically slamming his hips against your own at the easy access.

He grinds slow and deliberate, almost painfully as your lower half buzzes from the attention. You sob as you strain your head to the side to avoid his leering grin right in your face, hair falling over your eyes as a temporary shield to his sadism.

"Aww, look at you. You that shy? I thought I fucked it out of you the first couple times, but I guess the lack of attention really did wonders for you."

"Daddy, please," What you're begging for, you have no idea, but you know your silence will enrage him further.

As he's done so kindly to remind you about.

His raspy growls continue right in your ear, words hot and fierce as you wince in terror. "What, I leave you down here for two days and you only need me for bathroom breaks? For food? What if I just cut that all off, huh? Would you need me then, you ungrateful fucking brat?"

He seethes and suddenly gnaws your ear.

"No! Nonononono daddy, m-my throat hurt after calling out the first couple of hours, I promise!" You wail as he continues to painfully rut and grind against your sore mound.

"Nah, don't start begging now. Your punishment hasn't even started. This is just warming you up, my pretty girl," he breathes into your open and wet tear-stained mouth as he deftly undoes your wrist shackles. His mouth never leaves yours as he lifts you up tightly against him and carries you to the other side of the red room.

The second he places your unsteady feet on the floor he grabs the ropes swinging lightly overhead and immediately starts tying your chaffed wrists again. Even though you're standing now, you feel as though your position bound now in the middle of the room is even more vulnerable that when you were sitting against the wall.

"I'm sorryyyy," your sobs wrack your body as he lets go of your now-bound wrists. Your balance is lost as you let go of your weight and let the ropes hold you up. And yet, you're still not even sure what you did to piss him off.

"Yeah, just like that, keep screaming for me pretty girl," he mutters under his breath as he stalks around the room looking for something.

"I thought the waterboarding and knives were enough to get it through your thick head, but I'll spell it out for you...on your body"

His rummaging around the room stops as he positions himself behind you, much to your terror. At least when he's in front of you you can protect whatever part of your body he's targeting.

All you hear is the pathetic sound of your own sniffles and his heavy breathing.

You make one last attempt before submitting to your own fate.

"Daddy...I thought you couldn't hear me. That's why I stopped calling for you. I-if I had known you could hear me I wouldn't have stopped!" The rest comes out in a rush as if he'll silence your excuses, and your dry throat feels as though it's ripping in half.

There's a very pregnant pause before you hear a shuffling behind you, and he starts to peel your flimsy, dirty nightie off of you.

Your lip wobbles as the silence continues, and he begins to shove his hands up your body, first trailing up and over your hips, past up your sides, and then cupping your bruised tits. You hiss slightly as his thumbs press into your sore nipples as his palms massage the globes in circles.

His breathing picks up again as you do nothing but whimper at his violations, his hips having a mind of their own and rubbing up against your bare backside. You have no idea when he took his pants off, but you definitely feel his unsheathed member dragging hot and heavy over your asscheeks, teasingly releasing precum over the skin.

"Oh, I'm not mad at you baby. I'm gonna let you continue your silence. In fact-"

His rutting and ministrations stop as he seems to have worked himself up to a climax, and you gasp lightly as you feel a cool silk fall over your eyes. You feel him secure it snugly behind your head, and moments later you hear the sound of duct tape being ripped from its coil. Sure enough, your mouth is covered, and you're rendered mute, immobile, and blind within a matter of minutes.

He voices your terror. "Like a lamb waiting for slaughter," he croons as he places his palms flat against the hollow planes against your torso your breasts, pressing you closer into his uncovered erection and chest. It seems as though he can never get close enough to you, even within his grasp.

"Spread your legs." And now his voice is monotone, devoid of the lilt mere seconds earlier.

You're too terrified to do anything but obey, hoping if you react well enough this punishment will also end in minutes tops.

You smell rather than hear the leather first, with its pungent factory scent drifting up to your blood-caked nose, making your nostrils wrinkle in disgust.

And then, you feel it.

He places the bottom of the handle of the whip firmly against your poor widdle clit, and starts grinding in circles, imitating the way he was earlier when you were in his arms.

You squeal against the moist tape and thrash, your wrists aching something fierce as the ropes holding all your weight above prove to be unyielding, merciless.

He laughs cruelly at your distressed state, and continues to rub your bud faster. He rambles on like a madman, and you feel like your ears will bleed with the filth he spews.

"Yeah, yeah, you like that? You want it that badly, slut? I'll make sure you never stop begging me, begging me to love you, to hold you, to fuck you like you need me right now," all the while he rubs his member over your asscrack and cover you threateningly.

His other hand yanks your hair to the side, and he lowers his grinning mouth to the unblemished nape of your neck, fighting for balance against your skin as you try your utter best to thwart his evading teeth.

He bites and sucks at your skin like you're nothing more than a chew-toy, all the while moaning lewdly and growling like a fucking dog.

All the sensations inflicted on your poor, abused body cause your hips to rock in their own rhythm against the handle of the whip, which hasn't stopped its incessant stimulation.

There's a tense moment of re-adjustment as he shifts the handle to his other wrist to prevent his own hand cramps, and he stops his rutting as well as his assault on your neck.

While he straightens up to continue the torture, you however, have not stopped bucking your hips amidst the handle stilling on your clit.

You let out a wail of frustration- at him, and being violated like this, and needing to cum because of it.

When he realizes your hips are actively still bucking and chasing the revoked high, he barks out an incredulous laugh.

"Seriously? And here I thought this was punishment. You sick little freak, you're not supposed to be enjoying this."

And sure enough, you feel the handle shift from stilling against your clit to pushing inside your quivering hole. You moan loudly at the feeling of the lightly ribbed tool rubbing agianst your puckering walls, albeit a bit painfully.

You can hear him exhale in awe as he angles the handle at a place that makes you jump and lift your hips as best as you can just to lower them against the shaft. he keeps it there, letting your buck your hips and work for it yourself, teasing you by bringing it lower and finding yourself unable to drop any further due to the short leash above your head.

But hes a kind master, and soon begins fucking it up into you himself after the sight of your drooling, empty pussy isn't enough to simply satiate himself by molesting your tits.

The squelching sounds of your wet cavern and your girlish moans, along with the sight of your ass shaking from his spanks are too much for him, and he yanks the handle out of you yet again right at the cusp of your climax.

"Not yet baby," he rasps, wiping literal drool off his mouth. "Daddy's gotta feel you cum around his big, fat cock," and with that whisper, he plunges three fingers back inside you. He shudders at your needy howl, and begins dillgently pumping inside of you.

With you distracted on creaming his digits, he grips the slippery handle of the whip and cracks it against your ass.

You whine and thrash again, your orgasm yet again ripped from you, but he merely pumps his fingers faster.

"Louder," He growls.

He lets it crack on the other cheek, marveling at how tight you squeeze around his fingers while the skin blooms a beautiful blood-red.

You scream this time, sure you can taste blood from your parched throat. It's exhausting your body at this point, the pleasure and pain mixing into one while he has his way with your battered skin.

He lets the leather taste your skin once, twice, curving it around your sides to let it lick your tits, making them jump deliciously and creating small rivulets of blood in its wake, behind your knees to make you buckle and fall painfully further on his pruning fingers, on your back to make you writhe.

And finally, when you do cum at his thumb finally, mercifully swiping across your long-forgotten bud, he makes sure he positions himself in front of you to hear you, loud and clear, like you were supposed to the first time.

[simphornies]

A/N: Short but you'll see why <3 Loves and kisses!

Word count: 1.1k (1,196) Warnings: blood, everyone's fighting, major injury, alastor being alastor

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4

Deal Breaker [ Vox x Angel!Reader ] part 5

Your ears were ringing, vision blurred. The dust from the rubble got caught in your throat making you cough. Pain was the first thing you felt when your senses came to. As soon as the dust cleared you realized that you’d been entrapped under the rubble, one wrong move and it could all cave in. You looked down and two of your wings were pinned, golden blood oozing from under it.

Charlie was trying to get you out of the rubble, her screams were faintly audible and you heard her digging through. Then it stopped after another loud boom. The pain overpowered your body, you couldn’t yank yourself out without ripping your wings apart. For once in your life, you felt absolutely helpless under the rubble with no way of contacting anybody. You just hoped that the others were okay.

The Vees had come with their army of goons and with the lack of preparation everyone in the hotel had, everyone was in a struggle. Lucifer and Alastor were enraged, their demon forms fully showing. With Alastor’s tendrils and Lucifer’s mobility, they fended off the majority of the attackers. They both aimed for Velvette as soon as they got an opening.

Velvette laughed and wielded an angelic spear, launching it straight at Lucifer. Lucifer got ready to dodge it but Alastor quickly caught it, to his dismay, before it could get too close. “Wrong move.” She grinned.

Lucifer turned quickly and saw that Valentino had a dagger up to Charlie’s neck. His eyes turned red and flew straight at him. “Ah ah.” He menacingly smiled, “Any closer and Little Bleeding Heart will get it.” He cut her neck just enough to make her start bleeding.

He laughed as he saw everyone freeze, “For an establishment filled with such power…” He grinned wider with pride, “You all are so weak.”

They were at a standstill, neither side couldn’t move but it was clear that the Vees had the advantage.

Back at Vox’s security room he sees the commotion at the hotel, his heart dropping as soon as he realizes you weren’t on the field. “Y/N…” He scanned through all the footage and not once did he see you appear. He saw the first attack that made the ceiling fall. He thought of the worst. He knew he wasn’t in good enough physical condition to fight, making him hesitate. He sucked it up and left for the hotel as fast as he could go, traveling through the wires.

“What do you want?” Vaggie screamed, spear pointed at Valentino from a distance.

He laughed, “We want Y/N. To fuck off from you and work for us.” The evil in his grin wasn’t hard to miss.

“Like hell we’d ever hand her over to you, you freaks.” Husk hissed. His statement turned Valentino’s smug grin into a frown.

“Watch it, cat,” He held the blade tighter to Charlie’s neck, “I’ll kill this little bitch right n—”

A punch launched Valentino forward, blade dropping behind him. Lucifer flew to Charlie the moment he saw the opening as she fell to the floor. “Sweetie, are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” She coughed out. “But who-”

Everyone averted their attention to who landed the blow and to their surprise, Vox stood there seething with rage. “What the fuck, Vox?” Velvette screamed. It wasn’t long until she was surrounded by Alastor’s tendrils, all holding weapons. She groaned and crossed her arms, admitting defeat.

“I told you two to not fuck with, Y/N. Her business is with me and I change my mind however much I fucking want.” He angrily spoke, his voice laced with a stereo like effect. His cracked screen had sparks flying out of them, making him glitch every now and then.

The Vees got tied up and monitored by Lucifer while everyone else ran to find you under the rubble. You saw everything that happened thanks to the watch Vox gave you. Since Vox’s screen was cracked, you couldn’t get a hold of him and he was the only person that the watch could connect to. You just hoped everyone wasn’t hurt too bad.

Alastor stayed behind, facing Vox from across the battlefield. He glared at him, his smile becoming more menacing. “Greetings, old pal.” He snarled.

“Alastor.” Vox replied, “Look about Y/N, I’m s-”

“Keep her name-” He grew bigger in size, completely embracing his demon form, “OUT OF YOUR LYING MOUTH.” He hissed and launched his tendrils to attack him. Vox zapped away to dodge the attack, shooting electricity to make them fade away and to maintain his distance from him.

“Alastor! Let me expl-” A tendril managed to uppercut him, knocking him down. Alastor moved closer to him, looming over the injured Vox.

“My presence here in Hell surely stays an enigma. But blatant-” He kicks his side, tossing him a couple of feet. Vox clutched his side, blood dripping from the side of his mouth. “-and deliberate lies!” He stepped on him, savoring the sound of his ribs cracking underneath his shoes. “That damage my relations are where I draw the line.” His uncomfortable grin made Vox glitch out in fear, the sparks that flew out of the crack becoming more frequent. “I’ll make an example out of your wretched decisions to remind everyone not to mess with the Radio Demon.” He lifted his claws and lunged at Vox.

He was too weak to fight back or try to zap away. He knew his systems were in no condition to handle a fight, let alone one with Alastor. He looked up and watched as his claws came closer and closer.

For a moment, he thinks back on you. He remembered every detail he grew to love. He realized that he acted too quickly on his ideas. He remembered how you managed to soften his character, how you smiled whenever he’d give you gifts, how you were the common sense to his rash decisions. He remembered how your laugh would differ depending on the situation and he definitely remembered how it sounded when you were truly happy. He remembered the hospitality you provided him, the second chance you offered despite his reputation and his standing with Alastor. He realized that his pride prevented him from seeing the truth of it all.

He fell in love with you.

And he only came to realize it at the face of death.

He gritted his teeth, pushed his pain to the side and managed to zap away, avoiding Alastor’s claws. This move made him wince in pain. Alastor growled, “Putting up a senseless fight? You might just impress me.” He laughed.

Vox clenched his fists, “I’m not letting you kill me until I get to apologize to her.” He dodged an attack, “And I’m not letting anything stop me from telling her the full truth. And I put that on my soul. But I’m not hurting her more by attacking her friends. Especially you.”

He moved further away, “I surrender.” He raised his hands up in defeat. Alastor simply laughed at him before launching another set of tendrils toward him. Vox shut his eyes and braced for impact.

Taglist: @emekeneme @ghostdoodlen @chewbrry @dawko-fanpage @lofasofabread @hxzbinwrites @rapunzelbro @elsihiaweee @blackrose8425 @dickmastersworld @lofasofabread @rosiethevoxobesser @themetalbabygirl @markster666 @riskyraiker @fadingflowers-world(it won't let me tag the two of you but i'll send them)

[tortillamastersblog]

♕ No Matter What - Part 16 | Lena Luthor ♕

Pairing: Lena Luthor x reader

Warnings: mentions of injuries and slight angst

Summary: Lena is still a no-show. . .

Previous Part | Next Part | Masterlist

________________________________________________

“Good, you’re doing great. Just one more step,” Dr. Mike encourages, holding my left hand as I walk on unstable legs.

My right hand is wrapped so tightly around the bar mounted to the wall that my knuckles have turned white.

I take the last step before lowering myself into the waiting wheelchair. My hands are shaking and I’m breathing heavily as Doctor Mike crouches down by my side with a beaming smile.

“That was amazing, Y/N,” he says. “If you keep working hard and doing your exercises you’ll be almost as good as new in no time.”

I try my best to smile, but even without the pitiful look on Doctor Mike’s face that follows it I know it wasn’t very convincing.

Ever since we dialed back my pain meds my entire left leg has been tingling and is weak. Sometimes it feels like an electric shock runs through it, all the way from my hip and down to my toes, and Doctor Mike says that even though the weakness will get better, the nerve pain will never truly go away.

Yes, it will also get better, but I won’t ever have physiological sensibility and mobility again.

“Why don’t we get you back to your room, you look tired,” he states rather than asks when I don’t comment on anything that he’s said.

I mumble please and hang my head low when he begins pushing me out of the pt room and back to my own room.

It’s been almost three weeks since what happened and I’ve honestly never felt this empty.

Don’t get me wrong, I was absolutely crushed and numb after Noah was killed, but now there’s just so many things weighing me down that I don’t know if I’ll ever come out on the other side of things again.

To start things off, I’m constantly having nightmares about what happened with Lex. They’re mostly about what actually happened but sometimes they’re also about Lena, Sam, or Ruby getting shot.

Then there’s the whole situation with my dad. He hasn’t visited me since that one time where he tried to apologize, and I’ve been racking my brain ever since if I have it in my heart to forgive him.

There’s also the nerve damage on my lower spine which turned out to be worse than expected. I’m not paralyzed — something I apparently came very close to— but my left leg is basically useless at the moment and the constant physical therapy is painful and exhausting.

And to top it all off, Lena hasn’t visited me even once since I got here. I also can’t get ahold of her on my phone because Lex destroyed it and I have yet to get a new one.

No one’s heard from her. The news outlets are dying for a comment from her about Lex’s and all her friends — Sam obviously included— can’t reach her either.

She’s not at home, apparently, which worries me, but it’s not like I can just walk out of this hospital and go look for her myself.

The only thing that gives me a little peace of mind is the fact that she texted Sam the day I was shot that she had to deal with some stuff and that she wouldn’t be available for some time.

When I first heard about it I was very worried because I know she blames herself for what happened, but then as time went on, I started to hate her for abandoning me.

Now, though, I’m just sad and dejected.

Do I really mean that little to her? I mean, even if she does blame herself, I thought her worry would outweigh her guilt eventually and she’d visit me, but apparently not. . .

Doctor Mike drops me off in my room, making sure I’m comfortable in the bed before leaving with an encouraging smile.

I sigh and close my eyes, only to open them again a couple minutes later when Sam and Ruby stop by.

They’ve been visiting me every day and even though I’m absolutely miserable and can’t wait to get out of here, they’ve been a reliable support system and always managed to cheer me up, even if it’s just a tiny bit.

Sam kisses my cheek in greeting and Ruby hugs me before pulling a deck of UNO cards out of her mom’s purse.

“Can we play?” she asks with a hopeful grin and I pat the space on the bed next to me with a nod.

We’ve been playing this game for a week now and at first ai thought I’d get tired of it, but that has yet to happen. I love playing with the two of them, especially when Ruby giggles after putting down a draw four card.

“Of course, c’mere.”

Sam takes a seat on the chair next to the bed while Ruby settles in next to me. She shuffles the cards and hands them out as Sam tells me about her day at the office.

“. . . and then Marcus has the nerve to burst right into my office,” Sam concludes once Ruby has passed out enough cards. “Can you believe that?!”

I chuckle and shake my head, sorting my cards and fanning them out in my left hand. “I honestly don’t know why you haven’t fired him yet.”

Sam huffs and puts down the first card, a red four. “Yeah, me neither.”

We play a couple of rounds, chatting about God knows what until Ruby decides she’s had enough and that she wants a hot chocolate from the hospital’s cafeteria.

Sam hands her some cash and we both watch her leave before Sam turns back to me with a serious expression.

“Okay, out with it,” she says, moving her chair closer to the bed. “You’ve been awfully quiet lately and I know it’s not just because of Lena.”

Immediately my eyes start stinging with tears and I gulp, trying to force them away. When Sam grabs my hand and squeezes it however, there’s no stopping them anymore and within seconds my cheeks are wet and my chin is wobbling.

“I just— I can’t anymore, Sam,” I admit with a hiccup. “I’m exhausted and-and everything around me reminds me of everything bad that’s ever happened to me.”

I use my free hand to wipe away my tears, but it’s of no use because they just keep coming and there’s nothing I can do about it as everything I’ve been holding back for almost three weeks now bubbles out of me.

“I can’t stand walking past Noah’s favorite coffee shop every morning. I hate seeing my dad’s favorite local beer in bars and I hate all the reporters outside the hospital just waiting for me to talk about Lex,” I whisper, not daring to look at Sam. “It’s too much. . .”

It’s silent for a moment until Sam’s soft touch on my cheek makes my breath hitch. She uses her free hand to wipe away some more of my tears and when I look up to meet her eyes all I can see is sympathy and understanding.

“It’s okay, Y/N,” she says quietly. “I understand what you mean and I think it’s high time you got away from all of this for a while.”

I take a shuddering breath and squeeze her hand. “You’re saying I should leave?”

She nods. “Yes. You could travel and explore the world, or you could just move somewhere else for a couple of years, you know?”

I don’t want to travel. I’ve seen enough of the world for now, having been stationed in a couple of countries while I was in the Army.

The thought of moving, however, makes me pause and think for a second.

It would be a great opportunity to start over, start on a blank slate, and if I ever get homesick I can always just move back to National City.

“But what about you and Ruby?“ I ask. I’ve always been there for them and they’ve always been there for me, too. I can’t just leave them behind and start a new life somewhere.

“We’ll be fine,” Sam assures me with a watery smile. “We’ll always stay in touch, but it’s time for you to start living again, Y/N, rather than just existing.”

“Sammy. . .” I trail off, not exactly knowing what to say. I’m overwhelmed by her understanding and her support, but I’m also sad at the prospect of being away from her and Ruby.

“It’s okay,” she says. “You’ll be okay, and Ruby and I will be okay, too.”

I squeeze her hand again and close my eyes for a second, letting what happened just now sink in.

“I love you, Sammy,” I whisper when I open my eyes again.

Sam sniffles and blinks away some of her own tears. “I love you, too.”

I chuckle and press a kiss to her knuckles right as Ruby returns from the cafeteria. She doesn’t notice our tear stained faces and wordlessly joins me on the bed again, sipping hot chocolate from her paper cup.

She starts babbling about her day at school which makes me smile softly. Every so often Sam’s gaze meets mine and the unrelenting understanding in her eyes puts my mind at ease.

I’m going to be okay, I think, but the question of Lena’s whereabouts and what she’s up to still gnaws at the back of my mind.

It’s been a week since I decided to move and an old friend of Sam’s told her about an apartment he’s just finished remodeling in Metropolis that I can move into at any time.

It’s a big step, moving to the other end of the country, but it will give me the space I so desperately need.

I was released from the hospital two days ago and have since been packing most of my stuff and getting my affairs in order.

I have to take it easy because I’m still recovering, which is why I’m only packing light things like clothes. The rest will be taken care of by a moving company that I’ve hired to start tomorrow.

My left leg is still weak and tingles, but the shooting pains have stopped and all my other injuries have healed nicely.

I have to use a crutch for the time being because I’m still a little unstable on my feet, but Doctor Mike told me that I won’t be needing it soon enough if I continue to do the exercises the physical therapist showed me.

So far the only people who know that I’m moving are Sam and Harper. The latter found out because she was there when Sam called me about the apartment, but she swore not to tell my parents about it.

We’re almost back to where we were before Noah’s death since she, not unlike Sam and Ruby, also visited me in the hospital daily, but it will still take some time for our friendship to be fully restored.

Now, as for my parents, I’ve decided not to tell them about moving until I’m already settled in Metropolis. If I told them now they’d try to stop me from going because they’re both trying to make things right with me, but I can’t start healing if I don’t get some space.

I’ve come to the conclusion that I will never be able to forgive either of them for what they did to me, especially not my dad, but I can see myself being civil with them in time.

A knock on the door makes me pause and drop the stack of clothes I was just about to put into a box onto the bed.

It’s almost dinner time and Sam was planning on coming over with some pizza, so I think nothing of it when I open the door with a lazy smile, but then I freeze when my eyes land on the one person I’ve been yearning to see for almost a month now.

“Lena,” I whisper, taking in her red nose and the snowflakes in her dark hair.

“Hi.” Her voice is just as quiet as mine, if not even quieter, and when her green eyes meet mine in silent question, I step aside and let her into the apartment.

________________________________________________

I’m sorry it’s a bit short, but the next part (probably the final part) will definitely be longer.

*Not proofread yet

Tag list: @nerethos @orange15quote @nuianced-tck-enby @autorasexy @unexpected-character @nothisismax @wandatasha @likeornella @rosea-reginae @aca-biitch @jujuu23

[allwaswell16]

[4 pics, 4 quotes, 4 iconic 1D fics]

Iconic Fics by... - QuickedWeen -

[1]

Harry ducked under the ropes, abs crunching against the wide waistband of his shorts that were sitting high at his natural waist. When he stood up fully in the center of the ring, Louis’ brain finally connected back to the rest of his body and he whipped his mobile out to take a picture.

As soon as he had, he studied the smaller more pixelated Harry for a moment. Had he really just done that?

It was just… He needed to remember what Harry looked like right now. Because… well it seemed like an important moment. Everyone else was taking pictures...

And fucking hell would he wank to this picture for years to come.

[2]

“This was a mistake,” Louis babbled reaching up to run his fingers through his hair, messing with his fringe.

Harry’s heart sunk. “Wh—” he barely managed to get a word out before Louis cut him off.

“This was ridiculous. A ridiculous mistake,” Louis continued to babble, seemingly not able to control his mouth as a side effect of the adrenaline, most likely from how close they came to getting caught.

“Sorry,” Harry bit out as he began to shiver from the breeze, no longer warmed by the proximity of another body.

Louis turned to face him and was very deliberate in making sure Harry met his gaze. “You could never be my soulmate. You don’t want to be in love.”

[3]

Their combat was matched, Harry’s strength with a sword to Louis’ speed. Metal clashed at they traded the upper hand back and forth between them. The men surrounded them, energy restored, jeering and calling out their loyalty to their laird.

Louis studied him as best he could, searching for any kind of weakness he could find. Finally, Harry made a fatal error. He turned to follow Louis’ movements, and his grip weakened on his sword just enough that Louis could knock it out of his hand.

The sword fell to the ground with a heavy thump next to them. Louis’ chest was heaving from the exertion as he held his sword up until the tip was just under Harry’s chin.

“Do you yield, laird?”

“Harry.” The laird’s damp, heavy breaths were clouding on the gleaming metal of Louis’ sword.

“Alright. Do you yield, Harry?” he teased.

Harry looked entirely too relaxed for having been disarmed, but he had indeed been disarmed and the fight was all but over, so Louis didn’t think too much of it.

That, it turned out, was Louis’ fatal mistake.

[4]

Halfway through his notes, he felt it. All of a sudden a feeling of intense warmth and security enveloped him from head to toe. The sensation was so overwhelming that Harry had to put his pen down and lean back in his chair to give himself over to it and wait for it to subside. The sensation wasn’t sexual, it was more comforting, Harry thought. He had never experienced anything like it in his entire life.

The feeling began to ebb a little, and Harry went in search of Amba. If he felt something so strongly it was a safe assumption that she was affected by it as well. Stepping into the main shop, Harry called out her name, “Amba! Where are you, darling?”

“I’m right here, honey!” joked a disembodied voice.

Harry jumped. He had completely forgotten about the front bell. There, in his shop, scratching under Amba’s chin, was Louis Tomlinson. Wait. He was petting Amba! Louis was touching her, and she was letting him.

- Answers Below -

1. Small Doses (Loving You It's Explosive)

Louis Tomlinson finds himself at Vitality Fitness to try and turn his life around after having left his cheating boyfriend of four years. The gym's owner, Liam, quickly becomes a good friend, but his right hand man is rude and dismissive from the get-go.

Louis and Harry continue to clash all while Harry is trying to move his way up the ranks in Manchester's amateur boxing circuit, but they can't seem to stay away from each other.

2. Lend Me Your Hand

Society has long since decided that the soulmarks everyone is born with are entirely unfashionable. They're just another way for people of a lower class to scam their way into marrying above their station.

Lord Louis Tomlinson, Viscount Loring, on the other hand, has always believed that he will find his soulmate one day. Despite preparing for a match his whole life, he is entirely unprepared for the arrival of Gemma Styles' younger brother.

Harry Styles has been traveling and away from society for over a year. Coming back, he intends to spend time with his sister, and slowly reacquaint himself with life in town. He doesn't need to wait around for a soulmark to determine how his life will play out. x

3. After Dark, After Light

Harry Styles is the laird of Clan Edwards who is just trying to keep his clan afloat when they get word that the Mackenzies have been cutting a swath through the Midlands and beyond, and their sights are set on the northern Highlands next. In an attempt to garner extra protection for his clan, Harry sets out to mend his father's past wrongs and ally with their neighbors to the west, Clan Sutherland.

Louis Tomlinson is the mysterious commander of the Sutherland army sent back with Harry on orders from his laird to help shore up Clan Edwards' defenses. As the winter draws nearer by the day, the two are thrown together to prepare for the invasion that they expect as soon as the ground thaws.

4. Far Afield

Harry Styles is a witch who owns the best flower shop in Manchester. Lottie Tomlinson is planning her wedding, and brings her brother along to her first appointment. Both men have been having a bad day and sparks fly.

[cripplecharacters]

Hello! I have a character who has nerve damage in both her left arm and leg and I'm a lil stuck on what mobility aids I can give her, since she'll sometimes need one for her knee (which has the bulk of the nerve damage in her leg). As far as I'm aware, crutches won't work since it'll put pressure on the left shoulder, which has the bulk of the nerve damage in her arm, and a cane will be difficult since her hand can get stiff and not hold it properly. Any advice you have would be greatly appreciated!

Hi, thank you for your question!

If I understood the situation correctly, your character could definitely use a cane as you use it on the opposite side from the "bad leg". So unless she has the stiffness issue in her right hand as well it shouldn't be a problem.

For example: my right leg is the worse one, so I use a cane in my left hand. This way when I walk it feels more natural because people generally go left hand forward and right leg forward etc. It's great because when you walk you put the weight on either the good leg in the middle, or the cane and the bad leg on the sides which redistributes the weight between them and thus makes it less painful.

Some other options would be;

a singular crutch — basically like a cane but more useful for a lot of people as it provides more balance;

two platform crutches — they're like regular crutches but made for people who have a very weak grip, probably not ideal due to the shoulder situation she has but it's still an option?;

a hemiwalker — a walker that you use with one hand, kind of like a very advanced cane. I have very little experience with these so I won't be able to help much I'm afraid :-( (sad face);

a power wheelchair — much bigger than all the previous options obviously, but you can operate with only one hand or even no hands if needed. If I misunderstood your ask and she has grip issues in both hands, this would probably be the best option (it also has "power" in the name which makes it even cooler).

For anything that you use with one hand (cane, crutch, hemiwalker etc.) you will use it on the opposite side from the bad leg. If you're familiar with Dr House, he uses his cane wrong (lol) - walking like that seems very frustrating and painful to me.

You also might want to look at this post, which talks about the basics of a lot of mobility aids! There are also different types of crutches or canes mentioned (most notably the quad cane which provides much more stability than your regular cane) that you might want to consider for her.

I hope my answer was helpful! If you have more questions, feel free to send another ask.

Mod Sasza

[kurithedweeb]

Y'all remember that post I made about how Levin should have long-term walking problems because of the time he got possessed? I had more ideas about it. I've done some research for this and I've been basing these on my own experiences with my own bad knee, but if anyone who actually shares the same disability or uses the same mobility aids or medical devices Levin does wants to weigh in or add to this, please do! I'd love the input.

Both of his legs got some damage, but the left one took the brunt of it. He gets some occasional pain in the right foot and ankle, and a much more consistent and persistent pain in his left knee and ankle since that's where most of the misalignments happened when his legs were damaged.

Majority of the time he doesn't find the pain bad enough to justify taking painkillers. Synthetic ones make him fuzzy and most natural painkillers either aren't found on the coast or involve getting high, and he can't afford to be fuzzy or high when he's trying to be a good Lord. He'll end up suffering through it most days and spending the worst of his pain days, when he feels like he's been hit by a truck and can't make himself stand for longer than a few seconds, either administrating from bed or knocked out most of the day.

If he feels like he does need to use painkillers I'd say he prefers capsaicin, which is apparently a natural remedy for joint pain and the peppers for it can be grown on the coast, plus they can be eaten. Capsaicin can be made into a medical cream and applied directly to the affected area, and the anti-inflammatory properties also make it good for bruises and sprains.

While he uses an elbow crutch day-to-day for maneuverability and comfort, he also has a set of axillary crutches to help keep weight off his bad leg when he's having bad days or if he's injured. I've read that axillary crutches are more suitable for people with weaker balance or weaker upper bodies, but using them for too long can lead to crutch bruises around the armpit area and you can damage the axillary nerve that runs through your armpit if you spend too long putting extra pressure on the upper arm or resting your whole weight on the crutch’s soft pad when fatigued, so I imagine Levin occasionally gets awkward crutch bruises and Malachi always notices and tells him to sit down already.

He has at least two knee braces. His main brace is bulkier and offers more support with metal joints and plates running up and down his leg with hinges at the sides of the knee, and the way the plates are arranged almost make it seem like armor but probably won't fool a guard or anyone who regularly wears armor. He does maintenance on this one almost religiously because if it breaks it'll be at least a fortnight before he sees a replacement, and also squeaky metal joints are not stealthy in any way. His other brace is much slimmer and can be hidden under clothes, with an appearance like an athletic brace. It's primarily made of leather, which isn't ideal for a knee brace but in mostly-medieval times you don't really have spandex to work with. Yes, spandex is an actual material used in knee braces, along with latex. Materials aside, it is much more adjustable than his main brace, where the plates are forged to fit a certain way around his leg, and the straps can be buttoned down. If he has to go somewhere for diplomacy reasons, Levin sometimes prefers to wear the second one specifically because he can hide it under his clothes. If he thinks a fight's likely to break out, he'd prefer people don't immediately target the bad knee as an obvious weakness because of his brace.

Most of the braces he used growing up and the ones he owns as Lord were designed by Kenmur! He’s an engineer and used to be very close to Cadenza, so when she sent him a letter asking if he could help her out with something for little Levin of course he agreed, and together they puzzled out a variety of designs with varying levels of support. They also end up offering to make some for the guards of their villages and maybe will end up selling some designs to some craftsmen in other villages.

Levin's done a lot to try and correct his posture into something more regal when he was learning how to be Lord, but his hips are a little uneven from the way he fell when the possession wore off and he's got a bit of an awkward gait from how a few of the little bones in his feet ended up misshapen.

Whenever he sits down, he digs his thumb or the heel of his hand hard into the area where the femur meets the knee, and he often massages little circles around his knees when he's taking breaks.

On his best days he can manage without the braces or the crutches for a couple hours at a time, but he prefers not to go without.

Malachi has a habit of hovering on bad pain days, always at the ready to catch him if he pushes himself too far, but Levin appreciates it because his brother reminds him to take breaks when Levin himself would otherwise just push through to get work done.

As a baby he probably cried a lot because walking and sometimes crawling or even rolling onto his bad side sometimes hurt. He was probably given baby doses of painkillers on a somewhat regular basis until he was cognizant enough to deny wanting them. He never had a bad temper as a kid except when he didn’t wanna take his medicine. He did end up being carried around a lot because Zoey was worried about him walking too much when walking hurt.

Levin didn’t have any of his mobility aids or medical devices when the crew disappeared into the Irene Dimension, so when they got back and Levin was having a bad pain day, they must have been so worried he’d been horribly injured when they came home to see Levin using a crutch and his extra supportive knee brace while Malachi tries to herd him someplace he can sit down because he looks like he’s about to fall over.

[blugnettabutterflies]

This comes with spoilers for Criminal Case: The Conspiracy

(mainly after case 60. Also a TW for medical talk and a lot of injuries and scarring burns.)

So I finally decided to put together an Injury Chart for Jones for what happens in Blaze of Glory. Because I am so damn sure that he didn't just walk away with the repercussions that he got. It must have been way more and I am here to give it.

With that said, this is my personal interpretation of the situation, and screw canon!

Here, the full body picture

And now, some headcanons where I'll explain my position on this situation!

He didn't wake up that same night when he was admitted. There is a possible reason he could have been woken up and it was because of evacuation, but they didn't do it in the end. Maybe they kept him semiconscious to not risk a lot of brain damage since the injuries are bad. I supposed that he was put back to sleep for the next 3 or so days completely and maybe a bit more. He woke up after 5 days or a week. He still gets brain damaged (ill explain more down)

Speaking of injuries, the burns took almost 60-70% of his body, especially on the front side and the face. The face burns were from 2nd to 3rd, as well as the torso and up side of the legs and mainly the right arm. The left arm and downside on the legs were second degrees mostly. That's why he was in a lot of pain as said by Cathy.

Also, he had to undergo a lot of surgeries. Not only to amputate his eye but also a brain/skull surgery had to be gone because he hit his skull BADLY on some rocky furniture, since the blast sent him flying away. Other surgeries were made around the broken bones, essentially on ribs, arms, and legs. Luckily none of the vertebral bones were cracked, so it means that he can walk.

The surgeon also put him some skin graphs at the most injured parts and that procedure lasted for some months.

Another surgery that was done on him (as you can see in the picture) was a hair transplant.

Around the brain damage side of things, the blast caused him to have some alteration in his cognition. Not completely severe to the point that he to be dependent forever, but some sensation weakness, as well as mobility and mainly voluntary movement, which is what causes his prolonged paralysis mainly on his right side. He found it difficult to manipulate object with hsi right hand and to stand for a big amount of time, another reason of why he uses the cane. Additionally, he experienced speech and concentration difficulties.

What Gabriel informed Cathy was true. The surgeon and the staff who took his case had no idea if he was going to make it through the night. In fact, this was because, when they were operating on him, his vitals were fluctuaring a lot. He flat-lined once, and while he recovered quickly from that one, it was a sign that he was a delicate patient. Also, they were in the middle of the neohuman rampage, so there was even more of a risk. The staff sighed of relief when they saw Jones' brain activity actually responding to stimuli after a few days.

Around the topic of walking, due to the blast, he pretty much wasn't able to walk properly anymore. Not only because of the muscle weakness that this caused, but also because the waist bones had a hit too, and walking for big amounts of time causes some pain at first. He was in a way unable to move, on a wheelchair for the first 6 months. He is going to Physical and Occupational Therapy daily to go up some stairs. He was probably able to walk with a roller a few days after the 6 months, only in days when he felt confident. He started to use a cane after a year or so. He permanently uses it.

In fact, I am not sure if he actually made it to the memorial. He either woke up when the memorial was happening or he wasn't allowed to go due for the risk. If he went however, he was extremely supervised. As soon as it was over (or even before that), he was back at the hospital. He did go to Amir and Jasper's wedding 5 months later though, still in a wheelchair to not cause an accident.

Other injuries from the blast also include injuries on the eardrums, which caused audition alterations. He has now moderate to severe deafness on his right side and mild to moderate deafness on his left. He does use hearing aids (sometimes he forgets to take them out in his sleep).

Also, around his still functioning eye, while it's not damaged completely, he has problems with vision perception, making the walking part even more difficult. Actually, all of the tasks he does are difficult because of that at first.

Around the mental health side of things, during the rehabilitation process, his emotions were swinging around. He needed... A LOT OF HELP ON THAT. He was lucky that there was a therapist who decided to take his case and was able to receive all the punches and breakdowns.

There were a lot of nightmares. And I'm telling you. A lot. Of them. He would wake up in sweat and major pain. They became easier to handle with time.

The first time he saw himself in the mirror was... an experience to say the least. He saw himself and cried a lot, to the point that he had to be comforted for a few minutes. It took him a while to adjust. He knew it was his face, but he hated it a lot at first.

Before seeing his face, the visits were very secluded to best fiends and family members. Since his coworkers at the precint were his "family" he would allow their visits. After seeing his face, the visits were reducing by his own command. He was ashamed of himself for a bit.

Still, the team was eager to make him company. Despite him sometimes rejecting the visitations, when he accepted them, he found that it was a nice time. Their reassurance and news about the outside world would motivate him to recover so he could feel it himself.

Another thing that motivated him (or better off, someone) was Zoe. When he was able to move his hands and handle things for a while, he would read almost daily the letter he received back when he was hospitalized from his attempt. It gave him a boost, thinking that she would like for him to still try. It's a good pick me up. (If he couldn't he would ask someone to read it from her. Aside from other letters the team found in the meantime.)

But his big breakthrough was a bit later. He originally was going to have an eye prosthetic, and he was so sure of it... until he got a visitation from his sibling's family, where his nephew told him that he looked like a pirate with the eyepatch. He liked the idea of being something not as scary as he thought. And he, while the eye prosthetic was tempting, he denied it for the moment.

That gesture gave him a complete change of perspective to a more positive one, and the rehabilitation process was actually working even better. He was a pirate in that kid's eyes. So he may just commit to the bit.

After being discharged, he lived in various houses with Astrid to avoid being alone, until he could back on his feet. Sometimes he stayed at Gabriel's, other times at Ramirez's, Parker's, and occasionally at Player's house. During the first few months after his discharge however, he mainly stayed at Ramirez's house, where he and his family had a spacious room prepared for him with a great view.

Since he was on a medical leave for months, he took other activities that caught his eye (not pun intended) and his body would allow. He actually retook his reading hobby from it.

He actually took care of himself. He still attended the therapy sessions, he even went to a support group dedicated to survivors of deadly situations. He met a lot of people and he didn't feel lonely. And saw that there was more life than his job.

At first, he was so eager to come back to work and be useful and worth it. After rehabilitation and the support groups, he started to doubt, until he finally decided that he deserved a more calm life. And with that, he retired. He doesn't regret it. He keeps contact with the rest of the precinct. He still attends to their birthdays.

And he's happy. After all, limping sometimes, and even with some nightmares, he was overall, happy.

And there you have it! Screw canon my boy is disabled!

[bonefall]

Oh, does wildfur live?

[ID: the Better Bones AU version of Wildfur from Warrior Cats. He is a gray tabby with a "vest" mane around his shoulders, silver paws and muzzle, yellow eyes and whiskers, with a board tied to his waist with string.]

Not only does this dude live, he takes on the Great Journey while in that mobility device.

It's really important to me that, this time around, the Clans don't just leave behind every cat too "slow and weak" to make the journey lmao wtf

There is no question that Wildfur and any other elders and disabled cats will be going on the journey; only a discussion of logistics.

(And also ShadowClan's dark sense of humor, Tawnypelt returns telling them about the lake and Blackstar tells a sadistic joke about leaving behind 4 cats captured by humans, the Clan chipping in while suggesting more and more ridiculous cats to leave behind, like the elders, and Wildfur, and the kittens who aren't even big enough to fight yet.)

Wildfur has a very "rockstar" aesthetic and personality, he's pretty vain and prone to outbursts.

I kinda want Wildfur to have kittens; being an honor sire before his injury works, but I also like the thought of him adopting a kitten in the Lake territory.

Maybe a rogue's abandoned kitten, or a loner who was bit by an adder and left kits behind.

Cinderpelt and Littlecloud are responsible for making that mobility device! It's nowhere near as advanced as Briarlight's is. It's Version 1.

They're getting a little side parable at some point as they hatch a treatment plan together, which will include Wildfur getting chest infections from being depressed and sedentary after his injury.

The problem with V1 of the Mobility Device is how it tends to wear down the twine over time, and there's no way for Wildfur to put it on without help. It's also prone to occasionally getting rocks or thorns stuck under it, so he checks himself for unknown injury after an out-of-camp stroll.

It was still lifechanging though, and gave him the confidence to rejoin Clan life.

There are several points during the Great Journey where Wildfur is physically incapable of accomplishing certain feats, like mountain climbing. Blackstar carries him. All the big warriors take turns.

Wildfur has a pretty relaxing life after that. He's just a really interesting background character.

"Is there a reason he's an elder and not on Kitchen Patrol or something similar?" He doesn't have the patience for it, he just likes being an elder and doing whatever he wants. He still helps out here and there though.

Eventually he passes away of a disease at some point before Briarlight has her injury. He's fondly remembered, and Littlecloud explains to ThunderClan what her life will be like.

Unfortunately Millie still really doesn't take this well, she hears, "please be careful of catching any illnesses or sustaining injury to your lower legs and also we'll have to discuss how to keep yourself clean now that your dirtplace habits will be different" and takes it as "EVERYTHING ON EARTH IS A THREAT"

But, anyway, say hello to one of my favorite little background guys. I'm super fond of ShadowClan and their nasty humor and deep love for each other, I want Wildfur to have a ton of that in him. Looks mean, absolutely adores his family.

He's just a neat dude.

[eternal-armin]

ii. SO, HOW SHOULD i begin this?

part two woo. hopefully i'll be able to catch up on this and maybe publish some other stuff now that i'm home a lot more often (yay pain and mobility issues), maybe some arcane stuff since that would be fun, branching out into my last hyperfixation again lol. i've proofread so it should be good :>

pairing : five hargreeves x male/transmasc reader [he/him pronouns]

─────

where : after trying and sort of succeeding to get on the hargreeves' good side, five and [y/n] try rationalizing the situation and figuring out something, anything, to do about it.

─────

warnings : mentions of trauma, threats [of physical violence and murder], reader is still totally exhausted because how could he not be, depression, dissociation, pain, bits of shouting, not necessarily a warning but viktor is always viktor in the multiverse because the boy deserves it okay, existentialism, philosophical nihilism, family issues.

five adjusted his clothes in the mirror. although he wouldn't be able to have a proper retirement, he could look like a retired old man, couldn't he? who would've thought that someone could get so excited for beiges and tans. he got an amused look of subtle approval from you. beyond that, it wasn't very hard to look past your façade if he was being honest, you looked hesitant; though could he blame you? there were probably millions of worlds where his family fucked you over or just straight-up killed you. and yet, you also looked too tired to care. he couldn't blame you for that, either.

he touched your shoulder again. in a flit of light, which once again made you feel horribly nauseated and woozy, you were downstairs. surprised exclamations roused from his family.

"anyone know where vanya and allison are?" five asked, glancing with narrowed eyes across the lacking table.

"nope." and after that short reply diego went back to finishing off his meal—for someone who often scarfed his meals down, he seemed to be taking his sweet time. either that or your fun conversation with five had not taken as long as you'd thought; either possibility was equally likely at this point, really.

"nuh-uh... sorry."

"not a clue, unfortunately. something wrong, tiny dancer?" klaus asked.

"well, we have a new problem."

"who's this guy?" luther pointed at you wish his thumb, not caring to cover his mouth; your nausea was worsened to see someone talking whilst eating. diego looked at you then, and you hated how his glare bore straight through your soul. he really, really didn't seem to appreciate your presence. how both of them could so willingly ignore the phrase 'we have a problem,' especially from five, was unknown to you.

"this is [y/n]. he's one of the sparrows."

you waved once to everyone. whether the sluggishness of the motion, and the weak smile which accompanied it, was due to shyness or exhaustion was incredibly murky and unclear.

"so now we're getting all buddy-buddy with the enemy? do you know how stupid that is?"

"i'm sorry, diego, did you not hear me say that we have a problem?"

"well, you say that a lot, little brother!" klaus leaned forward to see you clearer, giving you a smile. it didn't really placate your anxieties or your strong desire to run, however it was appreciated. he waved, and you again waved back politely, still feeling very... guilty for your earlier flub. it wasn't a new thing, either, and that made you feel even worse. "hello, little enemy! how do you look so young? do you use those, like, '10 years younger' face creams? i didn't know they worked that well—"

"that is not a relevant question, klaus, now can someone please tell me where allison and vanya are?"

you cleared your throat slightly. "vanya is most likely getting a haircut. allison is trying to get to claire, but she's... not going to find her." it left a bitter taste in your mouth to refer to viktor in such a disrespectful way, but you couldn't take that from him. upon receiving suspicious stares from the younger hargreeves brothers, you mumbled a quiet "maybe."

"mind telling us what the hell is going on before i deck this mini-muffin across the lobby?"

"hey, hey, do not use mini-muffin as an insult! those are beautiful things, there's nothing better than mini-muffins when you're on a bender at, like, three in the morning!" klaus got a confused and heavily judgmental look in return for that... beautiful insight.

"[y/n] has the ability to see all other timelines, so he can usually find out the most probable events. okay? good. now i need to find allison, so can one of you fetch vanya, please?"

"no, not good, and no thanks! after all we've gone through, we deserve a proper explanation!" klaus objected. after a second or two of awkward silence, and a scowling glare from five, he gave in with a curt sigh. it sounded more like a groan. the brothers looked at you; klaus was the only one to seem patient, showing the approval of a parent understanding a kid's fear of giving a speech; luther stared at you with a puzzling mix of intrigue and subtle impatience; and diego stared at you with a raised eyebrow, leaning his head in slightly as if to say 'i'm waiting.' five's glare, although still quite characteristic, was a bit softer when aimed at you. you could never feel more put on the spot.

"you've gotta say something, little man, we can't read your mind," klaus encouraged.

"well, uh... i don't know exactly what it is yet, but something is wrong."

"aren't you omniscient or some shit? you can see literally every reality!"

the shouting scared you quite a bit and certainly made your headache worse. you put one of your hands to your head, mumbling, wishing you could just get some painkillers. if only five had given them back.

"don't shout, for fuck's sake," five grumbled, annoyed in his own right.

"i'm not omniscient. if no other worlds know something, then i can't, and... no other world knows yet. but something is wrong." your quiet voice was juxtaposed to diego's, still loud and stubborn like back in the academy. around 79.4 percent of every single alternate world which had diego in it found him like this, angry and short-tempered; it was very interesting. "you aren't supposed to be here. you guys, as you are, don't exist here. i don't think reality appreciates you showing up all of a sudden. and if versions of yourselves already exist in this world, then something will need to... iron out the wrinkles, i guess." you pursed your lips for a second. "not to be too brash or anything, but, to really, really dumb it down, you're a mis—you're mistakes."

"seriously? five, i thought you said that this timeline would be safe to stay in." luther looked like a scolded puppy. you felt bad. he was far too sweet—naive? yes, naive—for this kind of life.

"yes, that's what i thought, but second opinions are pretty valuable in my line of expertise. turns out it was sorely needed." his brows pricked up a few times while he spoke. "but, like you said before, it may be a problem we can solve."

diego remained, unsurprisingly, unswayed. "you better not be including this wad of chewed gum in that 'we,' five."

"what is with you and insulting him? he wants to help. jesus christ."

"last time i checked, his entire family just kicked our asses out of our own house, i have a right to be pissed, and he's lucky i'm in no killing mood."

"i don't agree that he should be killed," luther began in solidarity, "but we have a reason not to trust him, right?"

you took a little breath and exhaled it in a quiet sigh. "i know my family can be... extreme. and bad sometimes. trust me. and i totally understand how you can be angry with them and with me and think that i'm not honest. but i never hurt anyone, and i want to help you guys. you're eccentric yourselves, but usually you're good people. you're, like, an actual family," you added, trailing off, "not a group forced to stay together for monetary gain."

five squinted at you slightly. was that one of the reasons you chose not to grow up? you couldn't be associated with the sparrows if you were half their age. throw on a pair of sunglasses and nobody could recognize you.

jeez. didn't that sound nice.

"you guys really deserve a place to rest. a stable place to live, even. and if we can figure this out, then maybe you won't have to live in constant fear of coming into contact with your doppelganger or something. live, like, normal lives. as normal as they can be, anyway."

diego, much to your surprise, seemed to listen to what you were saying. sure, he still looked quite ticked-off and impatient, but you couldn't really ask for too much from him, could you?

"and you're sure that this is a problem we can actually solve? for good?"

"i'm not exactly sure what the problem even is yet. all i know is that something is wrong. but every problem has a solution, even if it seems impossible sometimes." there was a twinge of sage, melancholic hopelessness somewhere in there, some subtle disbelief. "five is quite the expert in timelines and time travel-related problems and paradoxes, and i'm an expert in alternate realities and manipulating reality itself. if anyone can figure it out, i'm sure we can. and i have no doubt that all of you will also play large parts."

luther's face was screwed into an expression of brazen confusion. "so... we're, like, completely blind, and need to fight an enemy we know absolutely nothing about."

"pretty much," you mumbled.

"surprisingly poetic way to put that, luther, i'm impressed," five mused rather sarcastically. "unfortunately, however, it seems we're gonna have to do something terrible and unprecedented." perhaps for dramatic effect, perhaps to quell his own annoyances, he paused and sighed out a breath. "we're going to have to work together." he did not need to specify the parties specified in 'together.'

"well, personally, i think this is a splendid idea. perfect opportunity for family bonding, i'd say! we're surrounded by decent chinese food and competent beds and cable television. decent music, too! and diego can finally figure out some self-discipline by not constantly threatening to kill [y/n]! marvelous idea little ones." admittedly, klaus's unique way of talking and gesturing was quite calming to you. you were very grateful for him. oddly enough—maybe you should've stopped saying that when it came to the umbrellas—klaus seemed to be that pillar of tranquility for you. viktor as well.

"calm down, calm down. you know that he won't turn against us or whatever? you're sure?"

the question was directed at five but you answered for him. "i'm not strong and i've never been in good health. even christopher, without his powers, would be better at fighting you than i would."

"the fucking cube?" you nodded. he plastered a grin over a pouting scowl. he sighed, giving into the plan. perhaps some remaining distrust still lingered, however, he could deal with it. "we've gotta clue allison and vanya in now. i'll go get vanya."

"finally," five huffed, shaking his head. "i'm going to find allison. you said she's going to try and find claire? i'll go to her old house." and then, the next second, he was gone. a few seconds of... incredibly awkward silence passed, where luther was staring at you whole-heartedly.

"go on and take a seat, young whipper-snapper. do you have any dietary restrictions? or allergies? we've probably got something here you can eat, if you want."

you had asked to walk back home with five.

"why with me?" "it's a little bit selfish, but i really don't want to be alone right now, and you're the number one person i trust right now." "flattering," he muttered. "then why walk?" "i think better when i walk."

admittedly, walking was taxing for you right now, so it may not have been your brightest idea, but after this entire day you needed a nice break; the picturesque city sunset was nice, the breeze was subtle and sweet, and it smelled like food out there on the streets. viktor had offered to talk with marcus and try to make a deal; you'd asked him to be very, very careful. "i don't know if purposely seeking out the anomaly would be more effective, or if allowing it to reveal itself would be better. maybe we should seek it out."

five nodded slightly. "allowing it to reveal itself could mean that it becomes too powerful to stop."

"that's kind of what i was thinking. we don't know how it would reveal itself. what if it destroys something, or changes something? what if it hurts people?" your voice was quieter with that last proposition. it was the worst possible option in your mind; buildings could be rebuilt. changes could be undone, with enough time and patience. but people could not be undamaged, and they could not be brought back to life.

well, not permanently, anyway.

five's pace slowed a bit and he peered at you, strangely, for a moment. you avoided his eyes.

"surprisingly enough, i don't think this is the... worst outcome." "forgive me but i don't really believe you. we've got jack all on either side. essentially, we're alone." "you're used to it, five." "hmph. and you aren't?" "not in this way, i guess." there was more he wanted to say but you would not give him the opportunity to dig too deep. "there are worlds where your family is on board. trusts me, even, after some convincing. and there are also some where we narrow the options down. i'd love to be in one of those. but at least we aren't at each other's throats again, or diego's choking me to death." your voice soured. if you got too close, you could feel that pain. there your mind went then, trying to save your other selves out of some ethereal desperation you could never claw yourself away from.

"ow!" you hissed, clapping a hand to your neck where it had stung, sharp and sudden. "what was that?"

"you were seriously so spaced out you didn't see me?" five asked, though it barely sounded like a question. he sounded just barely concerned. you had looked like a glove without a hand. "jeez," he scoffed, shaking his head. "did you see anything helpful, at least? anything at all?"

your mind was still seared and shattered across uncountable realities and he could see that struggle to ground in your eyes. hear it in your breath. you had little mental fortitude left to respond. "sorry? can you repeat that?"

five didn't roll his eyes. unfortunately, he knew dissociation. he carefully took your hands in his, rubbing your knuckles like he'd seen you do before, and that seemed to give you... some amount of usable energy. it was also sort of difficult not to notice him, of all people, doing it, even while he sported an expression of general distaste for the situation; you couldn't tell if it was falsified or not. slowly, you were returning to your body, and it felt heavier than ever before. "what did you see?" he repeated, just as you asked, meticulously annunciating each word and using a decent pace.

you nodded slightly. "i saw a few other timelines. less fortunate ones." you didn't need to elaborate for five to understand what you were referring to. the broad strokes, anyway. "nothing really useful, though," you added after a second in total defeat.

"shit. well, that's alright." and though it clearly wasn't, you didn't say anything.

"how long have we been standing here?"

"... a minute or two."

"oh, great," you mumbled, shaking your head to yourself. your record was around two hours, sure, but it still sucked. "the... we should seek it out."

"wow. you remembered."

"we were having the same conversation a whole lot. given i was still alive and actually grew to trust you." it was a half-joke but it succeeded in getting a bare grin out of five. "we can't risk hurting other people."

"or destroying something," five added.

"or destroying something," you agreed, then furrowing your brow slightly. a cafe nearby was playing pleasant music; that was something keeping you tethered to this world in particular, as if five wasn't enough, but even he was quiet sometimes. "the only problem is we don't know where it is."

"or what it looks like. if it even looks like something at all. it could very well be invisible or incomprehensible." he scowled for a second, though not out of irritation, thinking rather loudly to himself. "we should start where we appeared, i think." you nodded in agreement. "if your... 'family' decides to work with us, all of us, then we can search a whole lot more. but we should get the basics out of the way."

"the beginning is always the most logical place to start."

"quaint way to put it, did you write the sound of music in another universe?"

"what part about 'literally any possible, feasible universe' do you not understand?" you joked, managing a small smile of your own, and five would be lying if he said he didn't feel a little bit relieved to see you humoring yourself again.

"i deserve that." he paused for a second. "i know you said that walking helps you think, and you definitely need to do that more, but you look like a dead man standing right now. i'd rather just drop you off at the academy and get back to my own family. are you okay to teleport?" you did not respond at first, taking careful account of how you felt and how you may feel after. eventually, and rather subtly, you nodded.

"my room is klaus's old room back in your universe."

"wow, that... makes it easier. safer, probably." that was the closest you were going to get to 'thank you' so you took it. you shut your eyes tight and breathed deep through that half-second nausea-bomb. you were happy to see your room when you opened your eyes; smelling like home, looking like home, feeling like pure comfort. five glanced about your room. somehow it looked exactly like what he expected from you, which was a compliment. it was cozy. well-lived—especially the bed. there were many blankets and pillows and a few stuffed animals, unmade, probably because you barely left it. he couldn't blame you, either.

looking at you, you seemed totally relieved and excited to be back home.

"are you going to let go of my hands now?"

five stiffened for a second, mumbling a hushed apology before letting go, shoving his hands in his pockets. you couldn't help but grin a little, tiredly, and he scoffed when he saw it. "don't look at me like that. i was helping you ground, since you evidently can't do it yourself sometimes." not that he could blame you, really. he couldn't imagine what it would be like to be... you.

you ignored the jab. "i'm surprised you're willing to wait to take care of this," you mumbled, hanging up your scarf and sweater, lazily rifling through your dresser to find something decently comfortable to pass out in. "you always insisted on getting things done quick. if not immediately."

"i'm desperate for one damn moment of peace. the world isn't being decimated just yet. i just want to sleep decently for once."

you smiled slightly. no one could work while exhausted, especially not when it came to your quandary. "go on and sleep then. i'll meet you at the obsidian again tomorrow."

"yeah. oh, uh, just remembered something. close your eyes for a few seconds."

"why?"

"just do it."

you scoffed, though without any sort of animosity or annoyance, shutting your eyes tight like he told you to. you heard the familiar sound of his blinking once, twice. "alright. you can look. here." he held out to you your bottle of painkillers. "nearly forgot to give them back."

"oh, sh—thank you." the relief on your face was quite plain and sort of comforting as well. he mustered a slight hum in response.

"good night."

"night, five. sleep well."

"hmph. we'll see."

[felidthing]

surprise second round

this one requires you to learn things about my ocs. i beg of you to stay with me. you could also vote randomly if you want, i guess i dont actually care too much. but im giving you info so enjoy my info. theres art at the end after the poll go vote on my poll and see kitty art

SETTING THE SCENE:

applepaw is blind in her left eye due to a wound given to her by the shadowclan apprentice streampaw. the two of them keep far apart from each other ever since then- though streampaw was the winner, he left that fight with far less blood than he came into it with. its the only fight he doesnt go on long bragging retellings of.

riding the triumph of winning a battle with skyclan, redstar of thunderclan begins plans for an attack on their other neighbor, shadowclan. he's aiming for a complete takeover. absorbing shadowclan into his rule and hopefully shaking some of their close-knit culture apart. applepaw lost another fight in the battle with skyclan and barely survived, and now she's desperate to regain redstar's good image of her. she cant afford to show weakness again.

but applepaw is still adjusting to her new daily life and mobility after nearly getting her throat torn out- washing is hard, learning her new range of motion is hard, recovering emotionally from almost dying is hard. when it comes time to attack shadowclan's camp, she has to be realistic in who she can take on. she needs to go for someone closer to her age, skillset, and experience.

ivystripe is shadowclan's youngest warrior, just a little older than applepaw. they probably would have become warriors around the same time if applepaw hadnt lost so much time to healer's den rest orders. ivystripe has more experience than the average new warrior due to thunderclan's onslaught of aggression over the past couple of seasons, but so does applepaw.

streampaw is a couple moons younger than applepaw. he's on par with applepaw's experience, but has more connections in his clan and individual victories that keep him confident and defiant towards thunderclan. he overdoes his disdain for applepaw in a way she knows is because he's scared of fighting her again.

(ivystripe is as stressed as anyone about the times he lives in, but he kind of hopes the unrest gives him more opportunities to prove himself, and get him an apprentice early. he wants to give someone the same sense of belonging and purpose training with a mentor gave him. he's friendly with the warriors his age, but keeps to himself more often than the average shadowclan cat. he thinks that maybe if he had an apprentice, he could become closer with their family and be a "better" shadowclan cat.)

(streampaw is the deputy's son and isnt shy about it. streampaw isnt shy about anything. he's a loud presence at gatherings and is exactly the kind of tryhard that would injure applepaw the way he did. he wears his scars with pride. he has a massive crush on a dopey apprentice named sunnypaw and genuinely admires how hard he works to keep up with the more skilled apprentices. streampaw is good at spinning stories and getting cats on his side. he was an only child, a bad omen, and quickly grew to charm everyone around him to keep them from thinking about it.)

[buckybarnesss]

on fire: a teen wolf novel chapters 17-19 and final thoughts previous chapter

it is done. the final installment of on fire is here and i am finally free.

thank you @dear-massacre for listening to me rant about this book and encouraging me to finish it.

and a thank you to @give-emhalekid for inspiring this re-read of on fire to begin with. i can finally answer your asks appropriately!

in addition to my notes and final thoughts on this novel i did make contact with the author nancy holder and have been sitting on that email for over a month now. so i'll be talking about that too.

anyway.

We start this chapter in Kate’s narration in yet another flashback to six years prior. This is when she gets information out of Mr. Harris. 

The bar is called Randy Andy’s by the way. Which, and it may just be me, makes me fully believe this bar is playing Brooks and Dunn's 1991 hit Boot Scootin' Boogie on repeat.

She mentions that Harris hadn’t seen her around the school but she had pinpointed him quickly as someone weak and that she could use. This tracks.

She gets what she wants out of Harris and as she leaves the bar (which is handily across from her apartment) she sees Derek leaving with his school bag. She freaks out worried he’s onto her or found something in her apartment. 

She follows him home just to be sure she’s in the clear. Like a freak.

When she returns she finds a note Derek left her explaining what happened. 

However, feeling as though she could’ve been exposed, Kate decides to up the timetable of setting the fire. 

Because we cannot have nice things.

We then get a small scene where she’s filling the gas cans and apparently Alt Version of Mr. McCall is the gas station attendant but he’s on the phone arguing with Melissa over money and blaming her for things. He's actually worse than canon Mr. McCall which I didn't think was possible.

Kate goes on to have her inner celebration and reminisce over her seduction of Derek. You know, just girlie things.

Once again the timeline is throwing me off. Holder places the Hale fire near Wolf Moon which makes the show starting around the same time a nice call forward but she also has homecoming around the same time. Derek muses about Kate being a chaperone for the dance and Laura is at school that morning to attend a committee meeting for the dance. For me, Homecoming was always during the Football season in September. Not that I ever went but this in January if it’s the Wolf Moon. Football season is over. This doesn't make any sense to me.

We finally return to both the present day and to Derek and Stiles. It’s been 84 years. I've aged lifetimes.

Derek tells Stiles that you can’t trust human women and leaves him once more as Derek has caught the Alpha’s scent. This is Bizzaro Derek.

Holder has given us two different wolf references mere pages from each other. She has Derek listen to Wolfgang Gartner and Stiles apparently playing Wolfenstein on his phone (this may be Wolfenstien RPG which apparently came out on mobile in 2008).

I looked up Wolfgang Gartner -- because this is what I do -- and according to Wikipedia the earliest single he released under this particular name was in 2007 which would be after the fire. He does however have a single called Hot for Teacher. I am going to fight the author.

We’re back in Scott’s narration now. He’s not having a good time. There’s smoke making everything hazy and he senses the werewolf that bit him. He calls it his “waking, walking nightmare.” and the wolf side of him is conflicted by the threat but also by the sense of pack. 

Through the haze Scott does see the Alpha and they make eye contact. Once again Scott refuses to kill like in Pack Mentality. He references the incident by name. 

A burning tree falls down because of course it does. Some of the sparks get on Scott so he has to remove his jacket and shirt. This is Teen Wolf after all.

Scott fights the shift trying to figure out how to save himself and Allison from the blaze.

Allison begins to become overwhelmed by the smoke and goes into a coughing fit.’ Which, heh, kinda fits with Scott having asthma previously before the bite.

Next chapter opens back on Jackson who is still having a very bad time. His vision is doubled and tripled as he passes out.

Scott remembers that Allison once did gymnastics and suggests that she use those skills to get out so he lifts her up and she somersaults out I suppose. Like a goddamned Power Ranger.

I swear Stiles is the author’s least favorite. Stiles hears a howl and begins looking for Scott and or Derek. He’s yelling for them both as he attempts to track Scott’s phone. Derek shows up with a “Yeah.” 

Though I’ll admit this exchange made me laugh:

“Yeah,” Derek said, bursting from the trees. He was wolfed out, and Stiles let fly with a high-pitched, girly scream. “Was that you?” Stiles yelled. “No, that was you,” Derek said in disgust. “I mean the howl.”

Derek tries to assure Stiles the Alpha needs Scott but Stiles reminds him that he doesn’t need Allison. Derek says he also doesn’t need Allison which is a sentiment that Stiles disagrees with. Canon Derek would never. 

They talk about mountain ash because Derek recognizes it from the pictures Scott was able to send. The explanation holds up fairly well to what we’re told in the show.

They find Scott and Stiles tries to instruct him but he’s in a state of panic. Derek points out that he cannot make sense of what Stiles is trying to tell him due to the panic. 

E x c u s e M e. What the fuck did I just read?

Stiles wants to call 911 so a fire truck can gain access but Derek warns against it due to Scott being shifted. Derek then takes a swing at Stiles, Stiles shoves him and Derek falls off the cliff. 

I am so tired. 

This is a Stiles accurate line at least: “So many times, Stiles had wished for Derek to up and die. But he hadn’t meant for him to really die. Except that maybe had meant for him to really die. Just maybe not in pain, and not in front of Stiles.”

Scott pounces on Derek and they tussle. Stiles is conflicted on who he’s cheering for. 

Scott doesn’t have a shirt on.

And a moment later --

“A wind washed through the tops of the bushes and showered Derek with fiery debris, setting his jacket on fire.”

Derek rips off his jacket (RIP jacket) and his shirt now leaving him also shirtless. 

I see you Teen Wolf. The Weather Girls It's Raining Men is the unofficial anthem.

Stiles calls 911 because he clearly is the one holding the brain cell.

We’re back to Allison. She’s running through the woods calling for help when she spots what could only be the Alpha as she calls it an evil animal. It stalks closer to her but it moves away and she sees the wolf that she and Scott had seen earlier. 

The “good” wolf’s presence seems to scare off the Alpha. It then guides Allison to safety. This wolf is never explained but it gives me Expecto Patronum vibes.

Except her safety is Kate. 

Allison is now lying her ass off about why she was at the Preserve rather than with Lydia and Kate’s questioning her hard.

I had forgotten about Jackson. The van exploded by the way as the police came into the parking lot. He feels momentarily guilty about Cassie then he promptly passes out, which honestly I don’t blame him for. He’s had a shitty day.

Meanwhile back at Werewolf Rumble Derek is able to bring Scott back to himself and just as they begin to try to escape they accidentally do the memory ritual via Derek’s claws accidentally slicing Scott’s wrist and you know what? I don’t care anymore. 

We get one last flashback to Derek and Laura post fire. They’re at their burned home and insane with grief. In the remains Derek finds that stupid ring he gave Kate because she’s so evil and terrible. Like. Fucking hell. 

We cut to Jackson being taken to the hospital and Lydia ignoring the paramedics to ride with him. He feels guilty about Cassie’s death and tries to convince himself there was nothing he could do. In truth, there probably wasn’t. He ends up wondering if Bailey had really known about his biological father.

Allison at this point does in fact find it sus that Kate just happened to be out driving to the fire but she doesn’t examine anything too closely yet as she finds Scott and Stiles. She’s relieved that Scott's okay. 

The book ends with Derek watching the scene from afar. Kate catches his eye and taunts him one last time because of course Kate does. Derek doesn’t respond. 

The final line is kind of baller though. “There are more of us, bent on payback. And domination. And death. And we are coming.”

Some parting thoughts:

I remember mostly enjoying this book back when I first read it upon it's release in 2012. I think it's because I was so thirsty for more backstory on the characters and more adventures in the world.

There's a post somewhere on my blog about the book somewhere but re-reading ten years later I was definitely more critical of it and found it to be a frustrating endeavor. Maybe it's because I'm older or maybe it's because the show is over.

Largely I think it's because the book itself had no real resolution. It couldn't but I'll explain that later.

Even if there's reason for the open-ended nature of the novel it's still genuinely frustrating especially because this is a stand alone novel with no follow up.

I thought there were too many flashbacks and not enough time spent on the actual plot. Jackson is the entire plot yet we spend very little time with him in the book and he never actually interacts with the main cast except with Lydia through a text. Fucking wild. Some of Jackson's best character stuff is when he's bouncing off the other characters so it was a real shame he didn't interact with them.

The biggest issue I have though is with Derek's characterization. It just doesn't even seem like Derek to me even early season 1 Derek. The whole human slander isn't ever a thing with him.

I loathed how Laura was handled. The information we have on Laura doesn't even fill a thimble but I'd rather not know a damn thing than this version where she said the word "mateable" and isn't all that bothered by her sixteen year old brother being involved with not only an older woman but a teacher that has authority over him. Her reaction shuts Derek down so he no longer expresses his misgivings. I couldn't tell if this was on purpose or not.

I also didn't like how Stiles felt like the unfavorite here. Holder, I think had a decent grasp of his voice, but not how others reacted to him.

I also have mixed feelings about the world building Holder did via the werewolves. There were aspects I did like but overall I found it too heavy handed and too patriarchal. I think the direction the show took it was better. Talia Hale is a much better and more interesting choice.

I still do not understand why this book was commissioned at all. It isn't canon and it doesn't even follow the plot of season 1. Basically this was a promotional tool that fell short in my opinion. A waste of Holder's talent and the reader's interest.

However, there are reasons for some of this though like I said.

Back in November when I was in the middle of the book I did some research because I was insanely curious as to why this book was written the way it was. I found Nancy Holder's website which had a contact form.

I screwed up my courage and sent her a brief message asking about why the novel only referred to the first 5 episodes while largely being it's own plot. It's very unusual for a tie in novel

She answered really quickly and while her explanation didn't surprise me it still sort of did.

Essentially she was given a lot of freedom in developing her own plot as she was instructed to not give away any spoilers for the second half of the season. Which is why there's hardly anything to do with the Alpha plot line and Peter is largely left alone.

According to Holder, she is the one who asked Jeff if she would be able to fill in Derek and Kate's backstory so that whole plot is her own creation and he told to "go for it".

I think a lot of fanon seems to possibly originate with her due to this freedom which is interesting.

She's a huge fan of Teen Wolf and I found it super endearing even if I didn't like all her writing choices.

In conclusion:

[congratsyoureanidiot]

(this gif is absolute shit my apologies. i had to get it from a youtube video😫 i will repost a more clear version of this)

chronically in love with you

emily sonnett x reader

this fic is loosely based off of my experience with pots and hyper mobile eds as an athlete. i hope anyone who reads this enjoys it😌

reader’s pov

It was nearing the 48th minute when you felt it hit, you were having a flare up right in the middle of the semifinal. Sure, you’ve had plenty of flare ups during games and you’ve played through bad days, but this was your first time having it happen in such a critical game. You groan slightly as you start to feel lightheaded and dizzy, your heart rate starting to increase.

“Fuck”, you mutter to yourself. You know you kind of need a minute to adjust to what’s happening to your body and to breathe. You don’t want to go off, however, or feel the need to quite frankly. Every other time this has happened your team gladly adapts to the situation, wanting to help in anyway they can. Sometimes you would have to go off for a second, while other times you’d stay on and just take it easy for a bit, your teammates only passing to you when necessary until you were okay to continue again. They’ve always told you that they’d have your back, all you had to do was say what you needed and they’d act accordingly. You look over your left shoulder as you’re getting back into position and see the one person that you feel most comfortable and confident that will help you in this situation. The one person that specifically promised to you that she’d look after you.

“Sonny”, you find yourself murmuring, doubting that she heard you over the ambience of the game.

sonny’s pov

The two of you had been dating for just a few weeks, Sonnett finally having the courage to ask you out. She already knew about your health problems because you had openly told the team, but she didn’t really know the exact details until she started talking romantically with you. Even before then she had always kept a watchful eye out for you, not being able to help herself due to her ever growing feelings. She had always asked how you were feeling and if you needed anything and would always be the first to notice when something was even slightly off. She would ask about your health and wanted to learn about everything that you had, no matter how complex the condition or the name was. Anytime you’d be feeling slightly more symptomatic than usual, she’d be the first to talk to you about it. If she noticed any discomfort on your part, she’d be the first to put a comforting hand on you. If you started to feel faint, she’d be the first to put her arms around you to steady you and keep you from falling. She was just always there when you needed her, and this only got stronger when the two of you got together. She seemed to know when you were feeling poorly even before you did, she’d recognize your tells even before you had time to register what was happening within your body. She’d ask if you took your medication and would give it to you if you ever forgot. If you fainted she’d be the first one to rush to your side and hold you until you were conscious and able to get up again. If you dislocated your joints she’d always comfort you as you got them put back in. She was always just there and ready to do whatever you asked of her. That’s why when you called out to her, ask weak as it was, she heard you.

“Sonny”, she just barely heard you say. She knew by the sound of your voice that something wasn’t right. She snapped her head towards you, concern evident in her features.

reader’s pov

Your eyes widen in disbelief when you realize that she heard you. In fact, you’d be a grinning mess if you didn’t feel so badly.

“I don’t feel good”, you manage to say a bit louder than you had said her name. You take a deep breath and move your legs around as you see her make eye contact with you, trying to calm your heart rate and keep your blood from pooling in your legs.

sonny’s pov

Her heart drops a bit as she looks at you and sees weak eyes looking back, worry starting to course through her body. She nods at you slightly, fully processing what you’ve said.

“Okay”, she says gently, her nods getting bigger as she turns to get into position. She tries her best to be as nonchalant as possible as she gestures to the rest of the team to cover for you. She doesn’t want to get herself too worked up about the situation and cause herself to make mistakes due to being worried about you. She does her best to keep an eye out for you while continuing to do what she needs to do for the team. She finds herself going extra hard for the next few minutes, wanting to do everything in her power to do a good job covering for you and allowing you time to take a minute to manage your health. She’ll be damned if she fucks anything up when it comes to you. She ends up being able to walk next to you as the team resets for a goal kick.

“Are you okay baby?”, she asks as she puts a hand on your lower back. She takes a look at you, searching for any signs of discomfort from you.

“Yeah”, she hears you respond.

“You sure? It’s alright if you’re not babe…I want you to take care of yourself”, she finds herself rubbing your back ever so slightly.

“I’m okay now Em, I’ll let you know if it changes.”, you respond honestly to her.

“Okay baby. I’ll be watching out for you”, she pats you on the back gently before going to the spot she needs to be in.

The rest of the game she keeps an eye out for you just like she promised, constantly looking to you and nodding to you to wordlessly ask if you’re okay. She takes pride in watching you recover and play your heart out for the rest of the game, cheering you on and giving you encouragement when she can. Once the game is over she makes a beeline to you and gives you a hug.

“I’m so proud of you baby. I know this isn’t the first time you’ve felt off during a game, but just getting to watch you work through it and all…and it’s such an important game and…I’m sure you felt a lot of pressure and…it-it was just so badass to me…I don’t know. I’m just…I’m proud to call you mine…”, she kind of chuckles.

“Don’t…don’t listen to me…uh…I’m sure you still feel like crap, huh?”, she shakes her head at her rambling and pulls from the hug to look at you.

“Yeah, it’s not as bad as it got during the game, but yeah i feel like some shit”, you tell her honesty.

“What can I do for you? When we get back do you want me to hold you or give you a massage or something? I’ll do whatever you need baby, just tell me.”, her eyes widen a bit out of curiosity as she sees a smile forming on your face.

“What?”, she feels a smile creeping onto her face, just not being able to help herself. She watches as you shake your head and start to walk towards the locker room, still smiling.

“What?!”, she says now laughing as she watches you walk away.

Later on back at the hotel she does just as she promised and tends to you and your needs. She holds you and asks what was bothering you during the game and how you managed to work through it, wanting to know in case she needs to help you or give encouragement to you while you recover. She talks with you and comforts you until it lulls you to sleep. She just watches you sleep for a long while, not believing she gets you call you hers. She feels her heart swell at the thought of spending all of her days with you and building a future with you. Even though it’s only been a few weeks since the two of you started dating, she feels like everything has just fallen into place and couldn’t imagine her life without you by her side.

“I love you baby”, she whispers into your ear, hoping that her words make their way into your dreams. She kisses you on the head and turns out the light, holding you even tighter with a smile on her face as she drifts off to sleep.

[rreskk]

Thank u sm for feeding the Trevor lovers of the fandom! Could you write a shortfic where Trevor cums right as he begins to fuck the fem!reader? Extra bonus if he gets bashful after <3

Bashful Trevor is very adorable... I also included this request (down below) as I had a good idea to merge them both. So thank you both users for requesting these amazing ideas! I hope you enjoy this fanfic because I certainly did.

Summary: A deep analysis of the pure abyss when he's fucking your pussy hard.

TW: -Smut

Pairings: Fem!reader/ Trevor Philips

Word count: 1278

“Oh, fuck…” In a phase of rapture, you grew numb.

He was savage. The animal claw, his tongue, was brittle against your hard nipple. He sucked until you felt drained. Your eyes could barely stay open, not when he was dismantling the remainder of your sensibilities. Your breasts were at his discourse, a piece of meat, some fat skin to spread his slimes and saliva with little to no respect. His name was stained at the root of your mouth. Every time you pronounced the syllables, the venomous pleasure encouraged more of his ruthlessly physical contact. He found your moans arousing, and while he glared his bite marks and dirty tongue across your chest, his cock had eruptively trespassed into your soaked cunt.

Trevor had already came moments before the true penetration. Your sweated body and swollen lips had made him weak. The tip of his boner had drools of his semen, the fluids being smeared around your sex as he thrusted.

“Trevor, please! Oh, God!”

His body was directly trembling on yours. His elbows dug into the mattress from either side of your naked body, his head buried in between your tits, his hips rocking back and forth; striving, beating you to a pimp.

Heavy grunts muffled from his ugly mouth. Trevor rested his chin against your left breast, his tongue slimly licking the tip of your tormented nipple as he maintained intense eye-contact. Every time you attempted to look away, he thrusted hard – skin rashes from his thighs paining yours.

“Ah, ah!” You heaved in and out, your back arching, forgetting about Trevor lying on you, “Fuck, so good!”

“You pretty little thing.” He admired your flustered state. While speaking, he was breathless. He barely made audible sounds.

The bed struggled to contain his forcible thrusts. It was like he was pinning you against the mattress, restricting your mobility. His chin remained digging into your chest as he watched you intently. The sight of you sweating and arching due to the confusing sensations of his dick grinding hard against your pussy.

“You don’t know what to do with yourself, ain’t that right, sugar?”

You hadn’t of responded. You were too busy experiencing high-lights of your tickling pleasure.

“So needy for my cock…” Trevor continue to pester.

“Trevor – “

“Mmm, I love the way you say my name,” His tongue started to lick your nipple again, “You look real slutty… It’s hot.”

Glancing down, you choked out moans and grasped his hair for support. What was left of the hair on his head, it was enough to tug and make him growl in gratification.

“Harder…” You wished.

“Harder?”

“Yes, yes, please.”

Trevor groaned as he adjusted himself, using his hands so he was hovering over you now. His head was inches away from yours, his chest rubbing the surface of your tits. His thrusts were getting deeper now. He was fully indulging into you, the dick’s oozing cum from his past orgasm scattering its ashes upon your sex. Your legs were left shaking, one curling around his small waist.

“You desperate whore.” He’d giggle and stare down at you squirm.

His touch had traced cold shivers throughout your bones. The effect of his intimate affections had made you small and submissive. There was no tick, it was a growing fuel that made it a sudden reaction. The dirty names he’d call you, the treatment of a beaten doll, his hot cum already painting it’s territory inside you.

“Oh, fuck!” And he rocked faster, the slapping sound from both your hips cramming with every second of silence.

Your breasts huddled together and wobbled at the severe impact. You couldn’t stop yourself from shaking and spazzing with anticipation. Not when he was inspecting your wild hunger for his cock, just like a pretty little slut.

“Open your mouth, sugar,” Trevor whispered and leaned closer, “Open wide.”

Those tender, crackled lips separated, and your gullet opened wide for his impatience. You whimpered, trying not to disobey accidentally, yet he was fucking you too great. There was not a chance to prepare as he kept on accelerating his thrusts.  

“There she is… My favourite cum wrack.”

His nasty thumb forced you to open wider and you watched him ease his head lower, a lonely stand of saliva dripping from his mouth into yours. Your tongue welcomed his salty spit until he spat again. You felt him build up a good bundle before loudly hawking the saliva load into your wrenched throat.

Trevor grinned. He closed your mouth with his two fingers and pressed a passionate kiss amongst your over-heated forehead. He giggled when you struggled to swallow his saliva. You were oddly turned on yet grossed…

“You’re a Devil, baby. Ain’t no girl as pathetic, sexy… Fuckin’ slutty as you. I love my women easy, hm? You love being used.” He troubled.

You wailed shortly after the G spot was outstretched and pricked. The longing moan you made had alerted him of your sensitive area. He smirked, hovering over your body again and pushed in harder and harder, each time devouring your pussy.

“FUCK, TREVOR!”

Beads of sweat trickled down his sideburns and chest hair as he began wavering his hips with rapid pace. You could hear him neglect his wheezes, his face growing red and veiny since he only focused on ruining you from the inside out.

“Oh, OH! I’M GONNA CUM!” Repeatedly, obnoxiously; your self-respect had vanished. In moments of heat, your nails were scrawling his shoulder blades like a tigress. The growing climax was torture to your lower stomach that ached with edging release.

Small whimpers left his throat as he overworked his lanky body into pleasing yours. Trevor had his eyes squeezed closed. He shrieked out your name, cum ejaculating from his penis while he maintained the same pace into fucking your small cunt. The hard-labour through his orgasm had made him sloppy, but passionate.

“Fuck, fuck… [y/n], God!”

“Trevor… Trevor, TREVO – “

He gasped momentarily and collapsed onto your bare stomach as you squirted, the running white cum feeding out of your pussy and onto the bedsheets underneath you. There were streams of tears staining your cheeks with great accomplishment. This was definitely the most erotic orgasm you’ve ever experienced.

It left you speechless and paralyzed.

“Oh, fuck me!” Trevor wheezed and graved his face between your tits again, giving it more love, “Shit… Baby, I love you. God damn, my fuckin’… Ah…” His cock, limb and cold, shook off some more leftover cum before he whined out your name again.

His bed stopped squeaking at your bouncing and the unfamiliar silence filled the room. It was left smelling of hardcore sex and humid sweat.

“I love you…” He repeated quietly. His meek, bashful voice was the product of senseless fucking. Trevor’s eyes barely held it together as he peered over at your wearied smile.

“That was good.” You praised.

He shyly hid into your stomach, his lips pressing timid kisses around your tummy. You could recognise his sheepish mood.

“Trevor… C’mon, you were good.”

“Mhm…”

“Look at me, baby.”

He looked up at you with worn-out eyes.

“I love you.” You’d softly say.

His rugged wrinkles creased as he grinned insidiously. He returned his attention to your stomach and continued pecking the skin every now and then as you both recovered from the intense orgasms. You rested your head against his pillows and stared at the ceiling. You saw stars, twinkling lights. Whatever you saw, it was like a reaction to a drug. You were tripping. The climax had made you merely high out of your mind, a perfect getaway from any source of worries.

[the-eldritch-it-gay]

Majexatli’s health

Here's a little thing I have written up mainly for my personal reference about Majexatli's physical health issues. It might be interesting to others so I figured I'd share it. Mechanically in game, they have a constitution score of 8 which is somewhat supposed to be reflecting their health issues.

CW: Discussions of injury, mention of pregnancy and loss of pregnancy

Horns—

Majexatli grew up in less than ideal surroundings, spending their early life passed around foster care. They then, after running away from Baldur's Gate, spent at least 4 years fending for themselves in the outdoors before some druids found them and took them in. During this time of fending for themselves, they lacked the knowledge and access to proper care for illness or injury, which left them with lingering ill effects even after recovering and a general poor constitution.

By the time they were a teenager and living with the druids, their health was still quite poor. 

A side effect of this was their horn growth. While the average tiefling will get their “adult horns” in their mid to late teens, Majexatli’s horn growth was stunted by their poor health and childhood illnesses. Even at age 18 as their health slowly improved, their horns looked juvenile. They were also the only tiefling in the druid circle, so they did not have knowledge of horn care or typical horn growth.

It was not until they were roughly 20 before their horns began growing in properly, despite how Majexatli had thought their horns were permanently stunted. The growth and miraculous increase in horn health, perhaps coincidentally, perhaps not, occurred after Majexatli turned to Malar worship and began hunting and eating animals while in wildshape.

Vision—

Majexatli had typical vision before the Nautiloid and during the beginning of their journey. Though they would sometimes use spectacles when reading or doing embroidery. 

During the adventure while in a self-destructive spiral, Majexatli agrees to Volo’s eye surgery shortly after entering the Shadow Cursed Lands. The loss of their eye is something that takes them a while to adjust to. 

Initially, Majexatli did not opt to use the prosthetic eye Volo offered, but after a day or two they managed to (with Gale’s assistance) transfer the enchantment from Volo’s eye to a different prosthetic that Majexatli was more comfortable with visually, one that was a solid jade green rather than one mimicking the appearance of a humanoid eye. 

Musculoskeletal—

Right leg:

Majexatli’s right lower leg is noticeably weaker than their left. Majexatli is unaware as to the nature of the weakness in their right leg, whether it was something congenital or acquired by injury. Because whatever caused it happened when they were quite young, they grew up with it and are adjusted to the issue. When Majexatli went into wildshape for the first time, that was the first time they were able to run and walk without issue or pain.

Owlbear Attack:

At age 19, Majexatli was gored and technically killed (briefly) by an Owlbear. The attack severely damaged their spine, ribs, left shoulder/arm, and right hip. They also suffered fatal internal injuries, though that was largely fixed by healing magic.

The extent of their injuries and the length of time between their injury and treatment (and then their running away before fully healing) led to healing magic having limited effect. While they survived, the damage to their shoulder, spine, and hip left them with chronic pain and mobility issues. The intensity of the issue ebbs and flows, but they walk at a slower pace with a noticeable limp and use their right arm more often than their left. 

The attack also left Majexatli with extensive physical scarring, despite the use of healing magic. The claw marks stretch from their left shoulder down to their right hip. They lack nipples, as the scarring covers much of their chest, and they lack breasts entirely when in their feminine form. The scarring also is a cause of chronic pain due to the amount of scar tissue and the way the injury healed.

Majexatli usually goes out of their way to cover these scars, both because of their self-consciousness (as their most significant memory following the attack being someone they loved and trusted being disgusted and breaking things off with them on sight) and to avoid questions about the scars (though this on occasion leads to people thinking the scars are from battle, which bothers Majexatli, as it associates some sort of honor with scars they see as self-inflicted and a physical reminder of their failures)

While they can't hide all the chronic pain, fatigue, and lingering ailments, Majexatli does their best to hide it as much as possible, especially from the party, as they worry people's perception of them will change negatively and they will be seen as incapable or be viewed with pity.

Other—

External:

Majexatli has a number of superficial scars they received over the years. Most notably one across their face, and one across their neck. Most of their scars come from encounters with animals/monsters, or from non-combat scenarios. A small handful were inflicted by another person, though Majexatli denies this fact.

Internal:

Majexatli has long been fluid with their gender and frequently altered their physical form to fit with how they felt at the time (though during their time as a druid, this was also subject to others' influence). At the time of the owlbear attack, Majexatli had opted for a more feminine form and had just learned they were possibly with Althyran's child. Due to the severity of the internal injury (and brief death), the attack left them unable to bear children in that form.

[that-angry-noldo]

ok so @thelordofgifs wanted to hear my thoughts on finarfin and findis and i am sorry for incoherency of this post because it's 23h (00:37 when i'm posting) where i am and someone should probably confiscate my phone BUT ANYWAYS yes them

(please note that we have like one line about findis so most of it are my headcanons)

this turned into a mini fic halfway through so i'm sorry

probably the thing about them is that finarfin and findis are very similar. both of them run from their home as soon as they can - findis to valimar, and finarfin to alqualondë. both avoid conflicts and remove themselves from family drama. both are seen as the wise, cool-headed ones. However, they are also on the opposite sides of the scale - Findis is the eldest (ignoring Feanor) and Finarfin the yongest. Finarfin marries and has children, while Findis remains single and devotes herself to Valar (Varda in particular). Finarfin is in Alqualondë, and Findis is in Valimar. Finarfin loves his father, and Findis - her mother.

When the Unrest breaks, Findis does not follow, and she can't believe so much of the Noldor are going forward. She didn't place high hopes on her family, but all of the Noldor can't be that reckless.

But they are.

She is left alone, in the dark and cold world, with no one but her grieving mother by her side. (Indis didn't take Finwe's death and the Flight of the Noldor well at all. For a long time she was but a thin ghost of herself, and Findis was left to deal with that.) Truly, great is the fall of Finwë, she thought to herself then; those were her darkest hours, and sometimes she's still not sure they're over.

And, the thing about Arafinwë is - he returns. Like a bastard he is. He returns with bowed head, and Findis remembers suddenly that he left too, that he was ready to go, that he abandoned her - no, not her - their mother, he abandoned their mother also: and Indis calls for him so often in her sleep! Ingo! Ingo! How many times did Findis have to say that no, he is not returning - please, mother, wouldn't you eat just a bit?

But there he is, returning from the Valar, with brand new crown upon his brow. Findis shuts her windows when the silent procession inevitably reaches their street. Her mother can't even stand up from her bed; she doesn't even know her youngest son is now crowned king in place of his father and brothers.

Ingoldo, she thinks bitterly. The Noldo.

His name becomes bitter on her lips.

Time passes. Darkness ends, and there are Sun and Moon in the sky now. Ingoldo tries writing to her. She didn't write the answer the first time. The second, she sent the messanger away. Ingoldo didn't try again.

Her mother doesn't need to know, she thinks. Indis is weak, and Findis should arrange her journey to Lorien, but-

Finwë was doomed; Finwë had doomed everyone around him; his first wife lies dead under the silver willows, and what if-

She can take care of Indis herself, she decides. And taking care of Indis includes... not talking about them. Any of them. Indis' favourite Nolo or her precious Lalwen or her brilliant Ingoldo.

Indis loves her daughter, and hates to see her angry or upset - so she doesn't.

Ingoldo, meanwhile, is the King - while his sister and mother live in a random street in Valimar, in Findis' simple apartment, he has the whole palace of Tirion - all to himself. He is slowly going mad.

We do not have enough harvest. Findis turned away from you as you were passing. Not enough working hands - we have to mobilize everything we can. Will she answer the letter? Please, please answer the letter. The lamps. We need more lamps. The streets are dark. I hope they're cared for. I hope Ingwe allowed them to dwell with him.

The crown on his head weighs more than it should've, and his marriage bond is... all but burnt to ash, and Findis doesn't want to hear from him. He decides he deserves that, just as he deserved everything else that happened.

But,

but.

He has nightmares. Of his mother, laying prone; her face pale and fair; her feautures peaceful under the shade of silver trees. It is not his most violent nightmare by far, but he wakes up screaming every time, his face red with tears. (He can't lose her too. She can't leave too. She can't die because of him too.)

And. He gives in. His hands shake. Findis told him not to write; told not to ever contact them. So he writes to Ingwe instead, and that's a headache - he scribbles and rewrites whole night long, until his letter is perfectly composed, without smallest flaw, all to ask - how is my sister? how is my mother?

We don't know, the answer comes. They refused to come under King Ingwe's care.

Finarfin grips at his hair and laughs hysterically, high and swaying. He hates his family, he remembers it now. He wants to grip Findis by her shoulders and shake, shake, shake her violently - your main source of income were your paintings, and you couldn't have possibly be making enough in past years to support yourself and Mother, why would you do this to yourself, why would you do this to her - and he suddenly remembers just how cold her apartments always felt, how small they were, and his mother hated small spaces, hated cold, hated-

He cries. Then, he stops.

He's a King. He has to get himself together. (He's Ingo. He has to understand.)

He rides to Valimar, alone, and arrives in the night. Findis opens the door.

She doesn't let him in. She doesn't let him talk in anything but a hushed whisper - Indis is sleeping upstairs.

"I came to see her," Ingo begs. "Please, only for a moment."

Findis looks at him. His face is pale, curls golden; hair soft, and eyes anxious. This is the man who left you, her brain supplies; the man who left your mother. She feels cold rage building up in her heart.

"Why," she says, "are you only coming now? Did you have enough of your kingly games?"

He's taken aback by her question. He wavers, then regains himself; Findis can nothing but scoff at his "please".

"She doesn't want to see you," she lies, just because she can. (Because Ingoldo doesn't deserve her mother, and her mother doesn't deserve the pain.) "And neither do I."

He startles; Findis feels grim satisfaction. "You don't get to sit on both stools, Arafinwë. You can't be both a King, and a Son. Or a brother, though I hardly consider you such."

He only stares, and Findis waits. She closed the door - the night is chilly, and she doesn't want her mother to be cold.

Ingo blinks, shakes his head. "I do not ask for forgiveness, or for acceptance, but- Findis, Ingwe offered-"

"I know what we need way better than you," she says cooly. "And the last thing Mother needs is a loud palace, or some kingly presence."

His face burns - finally. "This crown wasn't my choice, you know."

"Then drop it. Drop it, and I will think of letting you anywhere near our mother."

Ingoldo never does.

~

(They never quite get over it. Findis never quite forgives him, and Finarfin never forgets the hurt he felt that night - or the day, years and years later, when his mother embraced him and he understood, looking over her shoulder in his sister's eyes, that none of it was true.

They never told Indis. That was something they agreed upon.)