#on the bright side i finally get to see an actual FUCKING doctor

[boxwinebaddie]

god fucking damnit can my body please stop acting up? i just want to write about my boys :(

[multifandomimagin3s]

Reader sits on their face and breaks their neck - 141, Los Vaqueros + König

requested by @daniel-meyer-03 contains sexual content (obvs), minors dni

Simon “Ghost” Riley

He always encourages you to put your whole weight onto his face - doesn't matter what size you are, he loves being smothered by your thighs.

His tongue is lapping your wetness like a man starved, when he mis-times his movements completely, feeling his neck go 'pop.'

He halts his movements with a grunt, head falling flat against the mattress; you raise yourself back off his face so sit at his side, as his hand comes up to cradle the back of his neck.

"Ah shit, that doesn't feel good."

He'd be pissy in the ambulance, purely because he wasn't allowed to put his balaclava on before he left and he's not happy about the Paramedics seeing his face.

Since he's legally dead, I reckon Price would have to pull some strings to get him seen in a private hospital to try and keep things hush hush.

He would be a grumpy guy when he has to wear one of those neck supports for the next few weeks," I look like a twat."

Isn't annoyed at you in the slightest - in fact it's quite the opposite, you had to tell him 'no' more than once when he suggested you sit on his face again, neck brace be damned.

"Would be a hell of a way to die, Love."

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish

This would probably one of many sex-related injuries he's had in the past.

Pulled his hamstring and a few muscles in his back one night when you two were really going at it.

Slipped during shower sex and almost took you to the ground with him.

Has banged his head off the headboard during missionary more times than you can count.

So it's fair to say that considering he's in the SAS, he's really accident prone.

Would wear the neck brace with pride, wouldn’t care if the team took the piss out of him for it - and for how he got injured in the process.

Even when his neck was in agony, he couldn't stop smiling.

"Considering how this happened in the first place, cannae really complain, Darlin'."

If he felt any awkwardness he didn't show it - even in the Emergency Department, he wasn't shy when he was asked how he hurt himself, which made you flush bright red each time.

Would probably act like a big baby when he'd given medical leave.

Being able to just be with you, cuddling and spending time together, was amazing - and he'd been given 6 weeks off, so he was going to enjoy every second of it.

Oh, and like Ghost, he absolutely wouldn't be deterred by the experience in the slightest.

But is maybe a bit more mindful to put a pillow under his neck the next time he asks you to sit on his face.

Captain John Price

I reckon his neck is probably fucked already - like the muscles in his neck get so tight that sometimes he struggles to turn his head.

It's the norm for him.

But when he feels a sudden pop sensation just above his nape, he knows that something isn't right.

Probably would have encouraged you to continue riding his face if it wasn't for the intense pain shooting up his neck.

Would refuse to go to the hospital - "I've had worse on the field, Love, I'll be fine."

It wasn't until you pushed him into going for an x-ray that he realised he'd actually injured himself.

Wouldn't tell a soul what happened - not even the Doctors.

His private life stays just that - private.

Would grumble like an old man when he has to put the supportive collar on; "I look like a bloody dog when it's had its knackers cut off..."

Also wouldn't be annoyed at you at all - in fact, he promises that as soon as he's given the all clear to stop wearing "this bloody thing" he wants you back on his face.

Captains orders ~

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

Mans is just confused as fuck.

One minute you're riding his face, his hands on your ass guiding your movements.

The next he's in agony - and then in an ambulance.

It isn't until a Doctor reviews his x-rays with him that he finally clicks on to what happened.

You rode his face...and broke his neck.

The realisation has him breaking into a fit of laughter - which mildly concerns the clinical staff.

He's in the military, risks his life on the regular - and the worst injury he's gained so far is from oral.

He's honestly nearly pissing himself from laughter, which makes you laugh too.

The neck brace doesn't even bother him one bit - the medical leave is a bonus in his eyes because he gets to spend more quality time with you.

Doesn't tell the Team how it happened - but Soap put the pieces together in his head, and is clapping Gaz on the back with booming laughter at the realisation.

"Fuckin' hell mate, that's one way tae do it!"

Alejandro Vargas

Like Soap, he's a bit too happy considering the situation he's in.

He's a passionate man, so getting an injury during sex doesn't bother him at all.

Usually he's very co-ordinated and he definitely knows what he's doing in the bedroom.

So fuck knows how he managed to practically break his neck whilst you were riding his face.

One wrong jerky move of his head and the next - searing pain.

Also is a grumpy guy when he's wearing the neck brace.

Would definitely play on it a bit, giving you the big brown puppy dog eyes so you'd give him more cuddles and affection; "Mi Amor, it hurts less when you're by my side ~"

Definitely would still try and initiate sex despite being told to take it easy.

Would happily let you ride him on the couch - his typical positions weren't on the cards but any angle he gets of your amazing body brings him bliss.

Gets the brace off...and probably injures himself again because he was a bit too eager to finish what he started.

Rudy Parra

Like his comrade, he's also a very passionate lover.

Apparently, a bit too passionate.

Which is why he was currently sat on your couch, arms crossed over his chest with a slightly annoyed expression.

He's not annoyed at you - he's annoyed that he didn't get to finish what he started.

Rudy was having the time of his life, smothered between your thighs, and he probably would've kept going had it not been you that hurriedly hopped off his face when he let out a pained groan.

Would probably try and convince you to let him continue where you left off.

But the hospital staff would probably be less impressed if he ended up back in the Emergency Department because he hurt himself further.

So he waits...impatiently.

As soon as the Doctor gives him the all clear, he practically dives between your legs.

He has to make up for lost time ;)

König

The poor guy is mortified - he’s not angry at you, not one bit, but that trip to the hospital is one that he’ll never forget.

Doesn’t like social situations, or hospitals for that matter, so being in a busy A&E department really was making him feel gradually worse by the minute.

That and he still had a bit of a *ahem* problem since your activities got interrupted.

Wearing a neck brace wouldn't bother him too much - as long as he can still wear his hood, he's happy.

Speaking of which, imagine the poor doctors trying to persuade him to take it off so they can examine his neck.

Thankfully he doesn't have to go on-base wearing the support - he'd probably die of embarrassment if Horangi found out what exactly happened, because then the entire base would find out no doubt.

Somehow, his comrade finds out anyways, and texts his friend some thumbs up emojis; "Way to go, big guy, best way to end up in the ER ;)"

After he gets the brace off and has to take it easy for a bit he'd be a bit sad since having you sitting on his face is his all time favourite position :(

Still, he improvises - and when he has your knees pressed to your chest and his mouth is writing the alphabet between your thighs, you would never complain ~

[frudoo]

Mmmm unethical ER Doctor!Gaz…

Warnings: Fingering, edging, medical malpractice, inappropriate doctor/patient relations. Fem!Reader.

Your toes curl as you swing your legs off the side of the exam table, fingers tapping against your thighs nervously. It took forever for you to get called back, and it seems even longer, now, that you’ve had to wait on the actual doctor to show up. The bright fluorescent lights have started to make your head pound. Biting your lip, you debate on just leaving to try and deal with this… issue on your own again. The very issue that made you seek out help to begin with.

The paper sheet beneath you crinkles as you hop down, cursing yourself for wasting your own precious time. You grab your purse and open the privacy curtain to leave, effectively running into the doctor who had finally showed up. You’re not usually one to bitch and moan to people who are only here to help you, but you’ve been waiting for over an hour and you are in agony, damn it. For the first time in your life, you prepare to chew out a person you don’t even know, sucking in a deep breath.

“About time you… showed… up…” Your mouth drops open when you actually glance up to get a good look at the doctor’s face, immediately feeling your heart drop down to your stomach.

Towering over you with a cocked eyebrow and a cheeky smile is the most gorgeous person you have ever seen in your life. Flawlessly smooth skin and deep brown eyes, maddeningly straight teeth and a perfectly kissable nose. You find it impossible to tear your eyes from his luscious lips, entranced and frozen in place.

“Righ’. Sorry ‘bout tha’ wait. Would ya mind havin’ a seat up there f’me?” He hums, and fuck, even his voice is delicious.

“I- um- I’m so sorry,” you mumble, scrambling back to sit on the exam table once again.

“No’ to worry. I’ve dealt with far worse attitudes than yours,” he teases, and you curl your fingers into the hem of your skirt. “I’m Dr. Garrick, yeah? Says here your problem is… oh. Oh, my.”

You’re mentally cursing yourself. You could literally die right here and the only thing they’d put on your gravestone is ‘idiot.’ A very horny, very broke idiot.

“Yeah,” you tuck your lips into a tight line, humiliation evident in the way your entire body is trembling.

“Alrigh’. I can have a female come in t’do this if you’re more comfortable-”

“No! P-please, I just want it out,” you plead, nearly in tears at the thought of having to wait any longer.

“Hey, hey, tha’s fine,” he soothes. “Go ‘head and remove your bottoms f’me, I’m gonna step outside t’give ya some privacy.”

Dr. Garrick does as he said he would, closing the curtain behind him. With a shaky sigh, you remove your skirt and panties and set them aside, laying back on the table with your feet flat on the surface, knees bent and pressed together. After a few moments, the curtain slides open and the doctor steps back inside, clearing his throat softly.

“I’m jus’ gonna place your feet in some stirrups, alrigh’? It’ll be easier f’me, and hopefully more comfortable f’ya,” he explains, plopping onto his chair and rolling towards the table.

In the cubbies below you, there’s a contraption that pulls out to act as stirrups, and Dr. Garrick helps you guide your ankles onto them carefully. He then drapes a paper slip over your bottom half, giving you a false sense of security given what he’s about to do. You take a deep breath when you hear him go to wash his hands, wishing you were just about anywhere else but here. The seat puffs again and you flinch when you hear him snap on a pair of sterile gloves. Fucking hell. This is getting too real.

“Gonna have a look, now,” he says softly, placing two gloved fingers at your entrance.

Cautiously, he pulls your outer labia open in an attempt to find the object lodged inside of you. Shaking his head, he sighs.

“Can’t see it from out here. Gonna have to push inside,” he explains, gently pressing his middle finger inside of your pussy and feeling around. “Y’know, there are safer options than a hairbrush. I would recommend investin’ in a genuine sex toy, preferably with some kinda base at the bottom.”

“Noted,” you grit your teeth, biting back a moan when he inserts another gloved digit.

You’re already sensitive from having the broken hairbrush handle stuck inside you for over two hours now, and the way his fingers are stretching you out and rubbing against your walls is nothing short of overstimulating. With your eyes squeezed tightly shut, you don’t notice the way your doctor smirks, but you sure as hell feel the way his digits brush against your g-spot.

“Ah, I feel it, now,” he murmurs, curling his fingers to hit that bundle of nerves again.

You don’t expect him to shove his fingers in further, nor the way he speeds up, rapidly massaging your sweet spot. You can’t hold back the whimper that escapes your throat, your back arching uncomfortably, ankles slipping in the stirrups.

“Sorry, I know it’s sensitive,” he says, but there is no sympathy in his tone.

Dr. Garrick rests the pad of his thumb on your clit and circles it tightly, muttering something about needing stability to help him pull the object out. You bite your lip, thighs already trembling as you curse yourself for getting off from this. You simply can’t help it—a pretty man knuckles deep in your pussy, hitting all the right places flawlessly. You’re right on the edge when he pulls his fingers out, popping the hairbrush handle out with them.

“Got it,” he smiles proudly, and if tears weren’t blurring your vision, you might have seen the smug glint in his eye because he knows he ruined your orgasm.

You hear a clank and then the snap of his gloves being pulled off. A weary sob escapes your throat at the newfound emptiness, your cunt clenching around nothing and your swollen clit still throbbing. Dr. Garrick helps your feet back down from the stirrups, watching the way you just lay there limp. He sniffs, hovering over your body and leaning in close to your face.

“Y’know, if ya don’t want a toy, ya can always give me a call. I won’t keep ya waitin’ next time.”

[libraryofgage]

Addams Family B-Side Four

Part of: Steve Deserves Good Parents, Actually

Debbie and Fester Addams One | Two | Three | Four (you’re here!) Rick and Evelyn O'Connell One | Two Harley Quinn One 10th Doctor and Rose One | Two (on the way!) Scooby Gang (there are plans for this one lmao, so plz be patient with me orz) Jedidiah and Octavius (from Night at the Museum) One

Here it is boys!

Actually, this part was line-jumped on Ko-Fi, which means y'all got it sooner than I originally planned lol

If you want to line jump your favorite series, you can learn more here

Anyway, we have more developments in this chapter! I hope you enjoy them 👀

A meme is at the end for your entertainment too!

As always, if you see any typos, no you didn't ;)

-------

Eddie has plans for the walk to Steve's house. He's going to compliment the bats on Steve's cropped hoodie. He's going to ask if Steve is aware he's allergic to raspberries. He's going to gently broach the subject of how Steve knows Pubert Addams.

And then, in a moment of cosmic injustice, Pubert fucking Addams is waiting with Steve at the end of the day. Eddie slows some when he sees them, his gaze lingering on Pubert as Steve offers him a thermos to drink from. He passes it back, and Steve looks like he's going to take a sip as well when Eddie calls out, "Stevie!"

Something gratifying and warm floods through him when Steve stops and looks his way. A smile tugs at his lips as Eddie hurries over, relieved to see the thermos being capped and put away. "Hope you didn't wait too long on me," Eddie says.

"We did," Pubert replies, grabbing Steve's hand and dragging him away.

Eddie frowns and catches up. "Why are you here?" he asks.

"Pubert and I walk together," Steve says, easily slipping his hand from Pubert's grip and moving to walk closer to Eddie. Their shoulders brush, Eddie gets another whiff of that cookies and cream scent, and Pubert glares. It's perfect. "Because we live next door to each other."

Eddie blinks, frowning slightly. Before he can say anything, Pubert smirks. "That's right," he says, pulling a cigar from his pocket. "We've known each other all our lives."

He strikes a match against his palm and lights the cigar, passing the match to Steve. When he takes it, Steve just lets the flame burn. Eddie watches as it gets dangerously close to Steve's fingertips, and without thinking, he licks his thumb and forefinger and pinches the flame to put it out.

Steve glances at him, a smile tugging at his lips. "Our parents are r--"

"Rather close," Pubert says, cutting Steve off and making Eddie's eye twitch at how rude it was. "In fact, Steve's parents specially requested I look after him at school."

"Oh," Eddie says, "you're the babysitter."

Pubert blinks and then frowns, looking upset that Eddie isn't more visibly jealous. That's good. That means Eddie is managing to hide his seething anger and envy well.

"So," Eddie says, deciding to steer the conversation away from Pubert. If he does it right, he can even ice him out entirely. "Why'd you transfer here, Stevie?"

"I caused irreparable emotional, psychological, and physical damage to students at my old school," Steve replies, finally passing the burnt match back to Pubert. He smiles lightly and adds, "That's what the police report says, anyway."

Eddie hums softly. "And, uh, why did you do that?"

"They wouldn't go to a museum with me."

"Sounds like they were just dumb, then."

That earns him a bright smile as Steve and Pubert stop outside a two-story home with fountains and cherub statues and an immaculate green lawn. It's surrounded by a white picket fence, the kind Eddie thought only existed in movies and 1950s nuclear family propaganda. Next to this house is a Gothic manor, for lack of a better description. It's dark, jagged, and seems to have clouds hanging over its rusted wrought iron fence.

"This is us," Steve says, gesturing to the Barbie Dreamhouse. "I'll see you tomorrow, Pubert."

With that, Steve grabs Eddie's hand and quickly pulls him through the fence's gate like they can't get inside fast enough. By the time Eddie has blinked, a large door is shutting behind him and he's standing in a foyer. "I'm home!" Steve calls, pulling off his shoes and gesturing for Eddie to do the same.

As he's wobbling to stay balanced while tugging one of his boots off, footsteps echo from the kitchen and a man's voice replies, "Welcome home, Steve!"

Eddie gets his first boot off and looks up as the owner of the voice steps into the foyer. The only thing that keeps him from dropping his shoe at the sight of the man is the unwavering desire to make a good impression on Steve and his parents.

"Father," Steve says, waving the man closer. "This is Eddie. We're going to be working on a project together. Eddie, this is my father, Fester."

Eddie sets his boot down and nods, taking the hand Fester offers. His skin is cold and clammy, probably corpse-like if Eddie had to guess, but he shakes with enthusiasm. Literally. The man's body is practically buzzing. "Great to finally meet you! Welcome to our home. Please make yourself comfortable. We'd love to have you for dinner."

"I thought we were having pot roast," Steve says.

"The oven is big enough for both."

It's a normal enough greeting and joking exchange that Eddie relaxes. He can see some of Steve's energy in Fester, the same wild glint in his eyes, and a similarly overwhelming gaze. Though, it puts him a little on edge when it's coming from Fester. Still. The same.

"Thanks. I, uh, I'll have to check about dinner, I guess, but I'll let you know." Fester drops his hand as he speaks, and Eddie hurries to take off his other boot.

"Of course," Fester says, nodding once. "You two go work. Just scream if you need anything."

"We will," Steve replies, waving for Eddie to follow him up a grand staircase. Literally. Eddie can't think of any other way to describe the marble steps with a polished railing and gilded edges. The whole thing looks like someone from HGTV should be waltzing through a doorway to describe the exact shade of paint they used.

He takes as much of it in as he can, eyes wide as Steve leads him to a balcony that overlooks the foyer. There are only two doors here, both of them across from each other, and Steve leads him to the one on the right. It's painted a soft yellow that reminds Eddie of ducklings.

"Oh," Eddie says, his voice soft and his eyes wide as he realizes just how rich Steve's family is.

The room is practically the size of Eddie's home and sectioned off into different areas. Against the back wall is a dramatic four-poster king-sized bed with one of those gauzy curtains hanging from the ceiling above it. The wall behind it is covered with flowering vines that crawl up and reach outward from behind the bed. A tiny three-step staircase to the left of it leads to what Eddie assumes is the bathroom, considering the edge of a sink that he can see through the crack in the door. To the right is a doorway that leads to a balcony, and Eddie can see a small set of porch furniture through the glass.

To Eddie's immediate left is a whole corner dedicated to a grand piano. Not a mini one, but a full-sized grand piano and its bench. A bookcase pushed against the wall next to it is filled with books of sheet music. To his immediate right is a large work table. Papers are scattered across it, and Eddie wouldn't think anything was wrong if not for the wall of weaponry directly above it. Swords, maces, a few tasers, two spears, and one trident, among others, are carefully arranged on hooks and display pins.

Suddenly, Eddie thinks about that mace Steve pulled out when they first met. He'd told himself that Steve couldn't possibly have been serious about using it, but now he's starting to second guess that assumption.

"Where do you work best?" Steve asks, pulling Eddie from his thoughts about the weaponry wall.

"Oh, uh, on the floor," he says.

Steve smiles and leads Eddie over to the glass balcony doors, sitting directly in a ray of sunshine that makes his hair glow and creates a halo effect. Eddie nervously wipes his palms on his jeans before sitting across from Steve, marveling at how plush the carpet is.

"What did you think of my idea in class?" Steve asks, glancing at Eddie before pulling notebooks and pens out of his bag.

It takes a few seconds for Eddie's brain to catch up. "I like it," he says, hesitating for a moment before asking, "Do you actually find it interesting, though? I mean...you don't really..."

"Look like I know anything about heavy metal?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I think the genre is given a little too much credit for converting people to Satanism. I mean, it's just discounting the work put in by others, you know? As a genre, though, it's pretty revolutionary, right? Like, it was doing and saying stuff nobody had heard before when it first made an appearance."

The more Eddie listens, the more excited he gets. Not only is Steve gorgeous and wild and unpredictable, he also knows a little about heavy metal and doesn't just write it off as unintelligible noise.

"How much of a history lesson are you prepared for, big boy?" Eddie asks, unable to help his grin as he leans forward.

Steve imitates his lean, his own smile a little softer. Eddie misses the way it becomes just a tiny bit smug when he glances down to see Steve's top hanging forward enough to see his chest. He's just about to do something incredibly stupid when Steve says, "As much as you're willing to give me."

Eddie blinks and looks back up, searching Steve's eyes for a few seconds. He doesn't seem sarcastic. In fact, he seems happy to listen to Eddie describe the genre, which only makes his already monumental crush grow three sizes.

--------

Eddie's heavy metal history lesson takes the better part of an hour to get through, and Steve spends the entire time slowly inching his way closer. He crosses the space between them as Eddie describes foundational bands and concept albums and the branching off of heavy metal from the rock 'n' roll genre tree.

By the time Eddie starts to lose steam, his eyes still bright and his face red from barely breathing the entire time, their knees are pressed together, Steve is happily leaning closer to occupy more of his space, and Eddie's hand had gravitated to Steve's calf without permission.

Steve smiles, happily filing away for later the bands Eddie mentioned and the albums he particularly liked. "So," he says, his voice soft but easily getting Eddie's attention, "sounds like we know everything for our presentation."

"You got the perfect partner for this project, sweetheart."

His grin widens, and Steve hums softly, leaning a little closer. This seems like a perfect chance to put one of his mother's lessons into action: ambiguously hint at more but don't follow through. "I'm not doing much work, though," he says, placing his hand on Eddie's knee.

Eddie squirms slightly, glancing down at Steve's hand before looking back up, a blush crawling along his cheeks and reaching for his ears. "You can, uh, design it. Yeah. Design the presentation."

"Is that really all I could do?"

Steve can see the moment Eddie registers his meaning, his eyes widening and the blush officially spreading to his ears and down his neck. He opens his mouth, glances away, and seems to blurt out the first thing he can think of to change the subject. "So, uh, w-what's with the weapons?"

"Doesn't everyone have a weapons wall?"

"Yeah, no. Uh, that might just be you, Stevie."

Steve tilts his head, humming softly as he glances at his weapons. "They're weapons I've won fights with," he says, looking back at Eddie with a bright smile. "I'm the best fighter in the family."

"Oh. Cool. And, who were you...fighting?"

"My cousins. Wednesday is the best opponent. She fights dirty. Pugsley isn't much of a fighter, really. What is much faster than me, but they always trip over their hair. I haven't won against Uncle Gomez just yet, but he has years of practice on me. Aunt Tish says it's just a matter of time, anyway. The trident, though, that was a bar mitzvah gift."

"You're Jewish?"

"On my mother's side."

"Oh," Eddie says, glancing at the wall again. His eyes linger on the trident for a moment before he asks, "And what about your dad's side?"

"I'm an Addams."

"An....Addams?"

Steve knows he's just killed Pubert's fun, but he doesn't care. He wants to see what Eddie looks like when he's angry. He wants to see what Eddie looks like when he's angry for and about Steve. "Fester Addams," he says, "Harrington is just a name of a family friend on my mom's side. She thought it sounded nicer."

Eddie's brain is visibly chugging along, turning this information over until his eyes spark with anger and frustration, his hand on Steve's calf tightening without him realizing. "And Pubert?" he asks, his voice low and more of a growl than anything else.

It sends an excited shiver down Steve's spine, and he suddenly knows Eddie can be mean and vicious and merciless if Steve only nurtured those tendencies with very positive reinforcement. "Pubert's great with explosives, but he's not good at close range fights. He doesn't even protect his kidneys. They're so easy to stab," Steve replies.

"Well, if it's that easy," Eddie mutters.

His words send a thrill down Steve's spine, and he can't help leaning into his space. He places his hands on Eddie's thighs for balance, far above the knee, and only stops when their noses are almost brushing. "I could hold him down for you," he offers, hearing Eddie gulp at their proximity.

"I, uh, might take you up on that," Eddie whispers, glancing down at Steve's mouth and staring at it.

Steve waits a few seconds, but Eddie doesn't do anything more. He internally sighs, lamenting the lack of initiative but happy that he gets to keep teasing, and leans back. "Well, just let me know," he says, his voice light as he shifts out of Eddie's reach.

He picks up his notebook, flipping it open to a blank page, and looks up. Eddie is staring at him like he's just seen Heaven only for the gates to close on him. He looks desperate but confused, and Steve decides it's a very cute look on him. "So, do you want to hear my ideas for the presentation?" he asks, flashing an innocent smile that pulls Eddie back to the present.

"Yeah. Sure. Explain away," Eddie says, his voice a little strained. Pride swells in Steve's chest at having caused the strain, and he pretends not to notice Eddie's attempts to subtly inch closer as he outlines design ideas.

When Eddie is finally close enough for their shoulders to touch, Steve rewards his initiative by leaning against him.

-------

Tag List (there's no more room on the list, so please follow the addams family b-side tag to see updates!)

@estrellami-1, @itsall-taken, @mugloversonly, @fandomcartographer, @hippielittlemetalhead, @agree2disagre-kicks, @ledleaf, @just-a-tiny-void, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @ink1177, @maya-custodios-dionach, @littlebluejane, @steddieonbigboy, @ravenpainter, @read-write-thrive, @deadontheinside20, @yeahhhh-suga, @nectandra, @mogami13, @mx-jinxous, @thoughtfulbreadpolice, @anne-bennett-cosplayer, @xoxoladyclara

@zaddipax, @dycte, @breealtair, @geekymagicalpotato, @janea-grill, @juliasthename-adhdismygame, @yikes-a-bee, @wayward-people, @st-fics, @disrespectedgoatman, @bipusssy, @cottagecorebutnaturescaresme, @nightowl14028018, @that-binchh, @your-confused-friend, @irethsune, @goosesister, @strawberryyyenthusiast, @irregular-child, @theverywest

@jinx-nanami, @solene1324, @nailbatwielder, @y4r3luv, @happylittletrees3, @croatoan-like-its-hot, @itcanbepalped,

And now, two more memes because they're both funny

[handsofred]

So....I saw a couple of posts about Stiles and his emergency contact and this popped up in to my mind...It's not finished, I'm planning on adding more to it and then posting it on AO3, but just wanted to see what you guys thought of it so far.

Stiles was...well... He was fucked! And it wasn't even his fault this time okay, it seriously wasn't. So the fact that he was currently laid up in an emergency side room, holding a bloody towel to his temple wasn't something anyone could tell him otherwise. Because it was not his fault. The fact that his other arm was cradled against his chest as well and possibly broken also wasn't his fault. None of this was and yet he was the one sitting there, injured and hurting while the other guy was currently fighting with the nurses down the hall, each yell and squeak of footwear against the floor driving another nail in to his head. Of course that guy was drunk, driving a stupid car which crashed in to Stiles' jeep and made him veer off to the side, hitting another car as he went while drunk guy continued to drive on, hitting others too. But it was also the fact that the side he was pushed towards just happened to slope downwards...just enough to send the jeep rolling once or twice and land upside down. He was fucked, but he was alive.

Sitting back against the bed, he let his eyes close against the bright lights of the room, just hoping that someone would turn up soon and pick him up or just keep him company. ''Uh...Mi...Mr. Stilinski?'' The nervous tone of the nurse had him opening his eyes and turning towards the young nurse who was stood in the doorway. ''That's me...Stiles actually.'' He told her, offering what he hoped was a kind smile, but it felt more of a grimace as another loud noise sent pain running through his head again. ''Stiles...of course.'' She smiled before slipping inside and closing the door behind her, helping to cut some of that noise down. ''The doctor will be with you soon to stitch up your wound, I'm sorry about the wait.''

''Not your fault, there's others who are more hurt than me out there.'' He replied with a light shrug, he knew how the emergency room can be on a Friday night, Melissa had told him and Scott enough horror stories growing up.

It seemed to make the nurse brighten a little as she nodded and came over to the end of the bed, flipping the chart she had in her hands a couple of times. ''We tried the number that you gave us for your emergency contact, but there was no answer. I promise you that we tried a couple of times but each time it just rings out.'' She told him with an apologetic look. ''I know that you said that your father was out of town currently, but do you have anyone else that we could call to come for you?''

Sighing, he shook his head a little, knowing that the chances of Scott actually picking up the phone was something he couldn't rely on half the time, it reminded him that he really needed to update his contacts as he thought through who he could call.

Dad was out of town in a conference, that was a hard no. Melissa was currently on her own floor and too busy to deal with him, another hard no. Scott...well, Scott was just not picking up.

Derek was in town, but was dealing with his own things, he knew that if he called the Alpha, that there was a slight chance he would come, but he didn't want to disturb him, not when Cora had recently come back to town again and they were finally making up for lost years.

''Mr.... Stiles?'' The nurse spoke softly. ''Is there anyone I can contact for you?''

''I think....for the moment...I just need to think about it.'' Stiles admitted quietly, feeling small on the bed as she offered him a smile and nodded.

''Okay, just let me know when you're ready.'' She told him warmly before glancing at the clock. ''The doctor should be in soon to stitch you up, but we should be able to get you down to X-Ray and back before then to check that arm out for you.''

''Thank you.''

The words were soft spoken and accepted as she headed back out the room to grab a wheelchair for him. Pulling his phone out in the meantime, Stiles opened up the group chat for the pack and just stared down at the chat box before he sighed.

Lil'Red: So...funny story, currently in the emergency room of our lovely town. NOT my FAULT at all this time, drunk driver hit me and some others...but I need someone to come and get me, jeep is a total wreck and Scott isn't picking up as my emergency contact. Possible concussion, possible broken arm and I'm needing stitches, so...yeah...any help would be good.

ZombieWolf is typing.....

SilverFox is typing.....

[harmonictechnicality]

Eddie's Memory Log: Day 30

part 1 here | part 2 here | part 4 here | part 5 here | part 6 here

(ao3 link here)

After one whole month of documenting Eddie Munson’s semi-fucked memory levels, Steve has come across a few crucial bullet points:

Eddie never forgets his own name.

If Eddie’s pain levels are bad, so are his memories.

Eddie likes the lime jello better than the chocolate pudding, except he always forgets.

Eddie’s memory is worse after the weekend, but it gets better throughout the week.

Eddie can hum the theme songs to all of the shitty soap operas (even on bad days).

Eddie’s memory is at its best if he’s had multiple visitors the day before.

And maybe the most important bullet of them all:

Eddie always remembers three people (Wayne, Dustin, and Steve).

Memory Log: Day 31

It’s Monday, which means Steve hasn’t seen Eddie all weekend. The knuckleheads and Hellfire lemmings take the weekend shift since they don’t have school. Steve should be grateful for the time off, but he can’t help but wonder how Eddie is feeling - if he’s throwing hissy fits or being confectionery sweet to all of his guests.

The curiosity and concern has settled its way into Steve’s routine during his days off. That’s just how it is.

And that’s exactly why Mondays are becoming Steve’s (secret) favorite day, despite Eddie’s brain managing the slightest soft-reset after the weekend.

“Is he a Hyde or a Kathy today?” Steve asks the nurse at the visitor check-in counter.

He knows the majority of the staff by now, and they’ve all adopted his Eddie Behavioral Lingo. Steve is getting far too cocky about being the hospital trendsetter.

“He’s um…” the nurse's gaze drifts up to Eddie’s door.

Shit. Steve bursts into the room because he already knows exactly what that translates to.

It’s a high-pain day. Eddie affectionately calls them Grendel Days - he finally decided to play along with their lackluster literary references.

Oh yeah… Eddie remembers Beowulf

“Hey, hero.” Steve speaks in a lower volume because loud noises are brutal on days like this. “I heard that Grendel crashed the party today, huh?”

Admittedly, Steve had Dustin retell the important chunks of Beowulf to him cause there’s no way in Nerd Hell that Steve was going to read that fantasy bible of theirs.

Eddie squints one eye open to look at Steve. “That son of a bitch is trying to slice open my goddamn kidneys, I swear.”

“Should I get my nail bat?”

“You’re what?”

Damnit.

Eddie remembers zero fucking percent about their monster battles (and it’s probably best to keep it that way while he’s still recovering).

“Not important.” It is but whatever. Best to just change topics. “Can I interest you in any pain distractions?” 

“What are you gonna do exactly - open your letterman jacket and offer me a lollipop?”  Eddie snorts at his own joke before slumping over, holding his sides.

Steve wags his finger at him. “See, that is karma for being so mean to me all the time.”

“That?”

“All this pain you’re having.”

“Actually, I think it’s because I’m some type of Demonic Tinker Bell.” Eddie offers, fake coughing into his hand. “If not enough people are calling me freak, I start to die.”

It’s just a joke, but Steve is not so keen on his friends joking about things like Mortality anymore.

Still, he laughs. Plays along easily. “All hail the freak.”

Eddie stops his fake coughing fit.

“And just like that, my wings of darkness have returned.” Eddie flicks his wrist theatrically, giving Steve the weakest smile. “See? Much better.”

But it’s not Much Better. Eddie spends the rest of the visit seething with internal pains. Switchboard style - one area inflicting jolts of throbbing agony, then another. Eddie grabs wherever it hurts the most. Sometimes he can’t touch every pain point, it’s just too widespread.

Maybe Steve should… No. He’s not sure his hands could stop the hurt any better. He’s not a doctor and he’s not fucking magic. Steve is just the guy that wears offensively bright sweaters and watches Eddie’s torture spectacle from a front row seat.

They don’t talk much after that. 

Eddie can’t talk through the pain. And apparently… neither can Steve.

Memory Log: Day 35

The pain has been monstrous all week long. They’ve had to plug Eddie’s heart monitor back in because his heart rate tends to skyrocket when waves of pain hit. It used to be easy to forget that Eddie suffered anything other than head trauma.

Not anymore. Not with his room beeping like a terminal metronome at all hours.

Steve stops asking Eddie’s novel-based behavior levels because he already knows the answer. Wishes he didn’t.

“Munson?” The lights are off, which helps with Eddie’s headaches. That’s good. Less pain in his head, behind his eyes. Small victories.

“Go home.” Eddie’s breathing sounds labored.

Steve settles into his chair anyways. “Can’t.”

“I’m not in the mood.”

“Me neither.”

“Steve, I swear.”

“Like a sailor.”

Eddie chuckles. “Hurts to laugh.”

Seeing Eddie like this is god awful. He should be shredding on his guitar or mocking Dustin senseless for his clashing pattern combinations. He shouldn't be wrapping his arms around his torso, confining the pain that’s mangling him from the inside out.

“We’ve gotta find a way to get Grendel out of your system, man.” Steve bends down to Eddie’s eye level. “Cause this fucking blows.”

Eddie opens both eyes this time - they’re so sunken in. “… Grendel?”

Shit no.

If Eddie’s pain levels are bad, so are his memories.

Steve tries again anyway. “You know… from Beowulf?”

“Sounds cool.” Eddie eye’s close again. “Are they a band?”

Eddie doesn’t remember Beowulf.

“You think everything sounds like a band name…” Steve mumbles, ignoring the disappointment pinging in his mind.

Eddie reaches for the guitar pick on his neck - one of his bandmates brought it by a couple weeks ago. He rubs his thumb over it as if he can transfer memories through fingerprints.

“Hometown Slut.” Eddie sends a sideways smile over towards Steve. “Snatching virginities and record deals.”

Okay. Fuck. Eddie remembers inside jokes. That seems like a big fucking deal.

Steve attempts to not overreact with this revelation. Avoid another hair ruffling/thumbs-up situation. “Did you have to use the word ‘snatch’ in your weird little slogan?”

“Oh the word choice was very unavoidable, Stevie boy.”

Steve shuts the notebook, focuses on keeping Eddie distracted from his pain. “What about your band?”

“What about it?”

“Do you remem…” Steve searches for another phrase. “Do you think you can tell me the name?”

“Alright, please stop treating ‘remember’ like it’s a dirty word.” Eddie whines. “I’m not the fucking cable version of Breakfast Club. Stop censoring yourself around me.”

“Right.” Steve opens the binder back up.

Eddie doesn’t remember…

“Corroded Coffin.” 

Phew. Eddie does remember his band.

“Do you remember what instrument you play?” Steve puts emphasis on the un-censored word.

“Accordion.”

“Be serious.”

“Polka is dripping in sincerity.”

Steve pinches the skin between his eyebrows. Truly, it’s impressive that Eddie can still manage to be a massive prick, even when he’s writhing in pain. It’s like he’s going for the goddamn gold medal of assholery.

“Guitar.” Eddie dangles the pick around, somewhat peeved. “Now can we chill with the third degree for today, officer?”

Steve notices Eddie’s monitor is beeping faster than it was when he first entered the room. That sobers him up from his irritation.

“Yeah, sure.” He sighs. “No more questions for today.”

Eddie cuts him a devious look. “Well I didn’t say that now, did I?”

“Huh?”

“Oh the vapid look is not nearly as cute as you think it is.” Eddie lifts himself up slightly from his stack of pillows. He flattens them out and into a pillow wall as he sits upright. “How about I ask the questions today?”

“Why? I’m not the one who’s struggling with brain stuff.” Steve walks over to give him a hand. Eddies seems to be struggling with his strength, which is to be expected after becoming a fucking bat buffet.

“That’s debatable.” Eddie mumbles.

Steve’s close enough to feel his breath as he pushes the pillows comfortably around Eddie’s new sitting position. 

It’s not weird, the close contact or the breath. Steve has been helping Eddie with gross shit for a month - holding his hair when he starts puking or coughing up blood. Unraveling him from tubes and cords because Eddie is notorious for twisting himself into a medical straight jacket with this shit.

It’s not weird… it’s just weird how aware Steve is of Eddie’s breath. How warm and jagged it feels, even through his layered clothes.

Maybe Eddie is aware too, because he starts breathing through his nose the longer the silence is drawn out between them. Steve finally takes a step back, creates a non-breath-touching distance once again.

“Humor me then.” Eddie fills the tense pause.

Steve crosses his arms. “Don’t I always?”

“No. Usually, you aggravate me.” But see, why do Eddie’s eyes get all shimmery when he says snarky shit? And why does Steve suddenly use words like shimmery to describe Eddie Munson?

Why does it remind him of those sequined dresses that girls wear to homecoming dances when Eddie’s eyes do that shimmery thing? It’s like his mind is taking the insults and turning them into compliments, which is so bizarre.

“Steve?”

Shit, right. Say something instead of thinking about Eddie’s sequined eyes, goddamnit. “Yeah?” 

Real original, asshole.

“Just… look.” Eddie taps his fingers against this side of his bed. “There’s sharp pains shooting through every fucking limb on my body right now. I just need a distraction today - not a pop quiz.”

Yeah, Steve offered the distraction idea at the beginning of the week. But really, that���s not what he’s here to do. He’s here for the kids. He’s here to fill his jobless life with a meaningful task. Help Eddie the way he couldn’t help him in the Upside Down.

But the kids have no idea what it’s like every day. How some days, they are friendly and comfortable with one another. How some days, there’s a verbal boxing match between them - and on those days, they’re both the losers.

How some days, Steve is the one getting flustered instead of Eddie (who’s usually being called out for staring at Steve’s hair or arms or whatever else his eyes decide to fixate on).

Nobody else knows how many climates this hospital room can hold. Nobody besides Steve and Eddie.

“Fine.” Steve decides after mulling it over for far too long. “I’ll be your distraction.”

“Careful, Steve.” Eddie breaks the non-breath-touching distance, poking Steve’s wrist. “You almost sound flattered.”

“Hardly.” Bad time to bring up the word hard - when they’re seesawing between taunts and flirtations. Thank god for the binder Steve’s holding, obscuring any part of his anatomy that could potentially betray his coolness at the moment.

“Go ahead, Munson.” Steve backs away from Eddie’s touch. “Ask your questions.”

Eddie runs the entire thing as if he were a late night talk show host. Uses his hospital side table as his interview desk. Pretends his empty jello container is his microphone. Calls Steve his ‘special guest’ the whole time. Steve scoots his chair right next to Eddie’s bed, just to keep up the talk show charade. 

An hour into it, they’re both feeding off one another’s energy and attention. Steve can tell by the way Eddie’s fingers unclench from his sides and his teeth stop gritting together, that his pain is subsiding - or perhaps it’s no longer at the focal point of his mind. His heart monitor is at a tempo that seems ideal - less fast and less choppy. More like a ballad than a pop song.

Eddie’s questions range from common to outright strange. He asks Steve shit like, ‘what’s your favorite breakfast food?’ And then follows it up with, ‘okay - but if you could only eat scrambled eggs for dinner, would they still be your favorite breakfast? Or does time of day play a vital role in your food preferences?’

“Does it fucking matter?” Steve rolls his eyes. More than annoyed by Eddie’s constant need to play devil’s advocate.

“Nothing matters, Harrington.” Eddie replies. “And please stop answering my questions with more questions. This isn’t a goddamn improv game.”

Eddie remembers how to be a pain in the ass.

Steve doesn’t write it down, doesn’t really need to. “What the hell is an improv game?”

“I swear to Johnny Carson, I’ll kick you off my show.”

“Whatever.” Steve isn’t any less confused, but what’s new. “I guess time of day does matter a little bit.”

“Ha! Knew it. You’re so predictable.”

“And you’re a fucking handful.”

“That’s high praise coming from such an esteemed guest of the show.” Eddie’s hand is splayed over his chest, over his heart. The heart that’s beating like a ballad and not a pop song according to his monitor.

Okay stop.

Steve knows this is a game. A shtick. So why is his face heating up? Why are his palms sweatier than they were twenty minutes ago? Why does Steve keep wondering what Eddie’s eyelashes feel like against his cheek when he flutters them in that overly dramatic way?

The clock interrupts his questioning. Probably for the best.

They exchange goodbyes. Eddie always gets a little concerned that Steve might not show up again. Steve always tucks his bitchiness away to reassure Eddie that he’ll be back on Monday.

It’s their routine. Not just Steve’s routine. It’s theirs now.

Memory Log: Day 38

It’s Monday. Soft-reset day. Steve’s new favorite day.

“Hey, Steve.” One of the nurses stops him on his way to Eddie’s room. 

Her name is Sam - Steve likes Sam the best because she lets him stay longer on days when Eddie feels his shittiest. She also gives him gum to help with his nerves. 

Hospitals do that sometimes. They just activate his nerves like glow sticks. Snapping and crackling the radioactive colors that make his stomach churn.

Anyways, the gum helps.

“What’s up?” Steve asks.

“Just wondering,” Sam gives him a pleasant smile. “Do we have a code for Eddie’s good days?”

“Good days?” They don’t hear that phrase often around here. “I don’t think so.”

“Maybe you should think of one.” She starts flipping through some files. “He’s been in great spirits for three days now.”

Three days? Steve rarely gets three hours of Eddie being in great spirits. The guy is a perpetual ghoul, so this is definitely something to celebrate.

Steve makes a pit stop to the vending machine. Grabs them a couple of root beers and candy bars for the occasion. Look, it’s not champagne and hors d’oeuvres, but it’ll suffice. Besides, Eddie doesn’t strike him as a ritzy kind of dude anyways. He’d probably make some joke like, ‘you mean to tell me that a whore made these d’ouevres?’

Jesus christ, Steve’s been hanging out with Eddie for too long.

“There’s my favorite lady killer.” Eddie is already grinning as Steve walks in the door. 

Still remembers Steve is a Hometown Slut (of all the things that would stick to his brain… why that?)

“Seriously, you look sharp today.”

Steve’s knees lock at the compliment. “Um. Thanks. So do you.”

And the crazy part is, he means that. There’s a peachy color returning back to Eddie’s skin. The bags under his eyes are a faded gray instead of an Almost Black. 

And his hair. Eddie’s hair is actually untangled. His curls are fluffed out, sort of feathery at the ends. Maybe somebody trimmed all of the dead pieces off because it looks... Well, it looks nice.

Steve kind of hates to admit that.

“Guessing your pain levels are better?”

“You guess right.” Eddie nods. “Whatever meds they gave me Friday night finally kicked Grendel’s lousy ass.”

Eddie remembers Beowulf again.

“Glad to hear it.” Steve is trying to process how great things are going. Eddie’s complexion. Eddie’s memories. It’s never this clear on Mondays. Steve tries to just be grateful to have a day like this, but he can’t help but wonder why.

Why now?

“Eggs for breakfast?” Eddie is fiddling with his necklace again.

Steve jerks his head up. “You… didn’t forget?”

“Don’t get too excited.” Eddie gestures to Steve’s pants. “Because I wish I could forget those ridiculous khakis that you always wear on Mondays.”

“Shit, really?”

“What’s the deal with that anyways?” Eddie’s nose scrunches up at the question. “Laundry day or something?”

“I…” Yes.

“Or do you think your ass just looks better in lighter colors?”

“Well…” Also yes.

Eddie winks. “Looks like your ability to complete a sentence is just as fucked as my memory, huh Stevie?”

Steve nervously runs his hands through his hair. “This is just a lot to process, sorry.”

And it is. Steve starts jotting everything down before he starts to forget:

Eddie remembers Steve’s favorite breakfast food.

Eddie remembers Steve wearing khakis on previous Mondays.

Eddie remembers Steve’s Memory Fucked inside joke.

Eddie remembers a shit ton about Steve.

Eddie remembers.

Very lightly, Steve scribbles on the corner of the page:

Eddie notices Steve’s ass…

The rest of the visit is pretty awesome, one of the best ones they’ve ever had. Eddie recalls practically everything from Friday, which is blowing Steve’s mind. They talk about his visit with Dustin on Sunday, and how excited Eddie is to see Wayne on Thursday. Steve doesn’t even bother with taking more notes because Eddie remembers it all.

They talk like real friends today. Friends that occasionally notice other friend’s asses or get lost in their sequined eyes, but still. It’s somewhere in the ballpark of friends, right? Whatever it is, it’s better than ripping each other apart with insults. That’s gotta count for something.

Eddie falls asleep an hour before visiting hours are over. He falls asleep still smiling from the last joke he told before dozing off. Steve studies his facial features because he can finally see more of them (Eddie’s bangs were trimmed too, thank god). 

He’s still pretty banged up. Cuts that overlap and bruises that change gradient the further up they spread. As if the softer parts of Eddie are still freshly wounded. That’s not how it works, Steve has been beaten up enough to know that people don’t bruise like fruit. Not really.

Steve can just see more of Eddie now, which is proving to be a dangerous road to travel down. Way too many detours to let his mind wander. Think. Overthink.

He thinks Eddie is attractive. That’s the detour he’s taking tonight. And if this person didn’t already occupy so much space in his mind, that detour might be more shocking to him. But it’s barely registering on the shock-meter.

Eddie’s unharmed features are highlighted in attractiveness against the purples and grays and reds. It’s almost impossible not to notice that he’s attractive when his face has this many colors. This much character.

Steve doesn’t know what’s going on. This could all be his exhaustion kicking in. Or maybe Eddie’s great spirits has twisted Steve’s outlook on things. Or maybe it’s an illusion from the Better Day they’ve shared together.

The only clear answer that Steve has right now is that Eddie remembers him. And that fucking means something.

Steve stops by to tell Sam the good news on his way out.

“I think he’s getting better.”

Sam nods once. “He definitely feels better, I’ll give you that.”

“Sure, but…” Steve begins. “I think his memory is getting better too. He remembers the littlest details about me.”

“Steve.”

“That’s huge, right?” Steve is so awestruck. “Like… I don’t know, Sam. Maybe he’ll get to go home soon.”

She doesn’t respond right away. Her eyes just keep shifting between Steve and Eddie’s door.

“I think I need to show you something.”

That can’t be good. Her tone is very, ‘speak with me after class, young man.’

They quietly walk back into Eddie’s room. Sam motions her head for Steve to approach Eddie’s bedside. Cautiously, Steve does.

She gently pulls back Eddie’s thin blanket, and Steve feels the air vacate his fucking lungs.

Eddie’s arms. There’s tape and IVs and tattoos and scars - all of the usual stuff. 

But then there’s writing. Eddie is covered in black ink, scribbled notes filling in all the gaps of his pale skin. Steve can’t make out most of the words - it’s all messy.

But there’s one word he spots over and over again.

‘Steve.’

It’s all messy, sure. But it’s all about him.

“Holy shit.” Steve whispers, quickly looking towards Sam. “Sorry, didn’t mean to swear.”

“No, that’s an appropriate response.” Of course she’d be cool about him swearing.

Without waking up Eddie, he begins to decipher the notes as best as he can: 

Scrambled eggs. Extra hold hairspray. Hyde or Kathy. Yellow sweater. Khakis on Mondays.

There are notes on things they haven’t talked about as well. Things that Eddie has just observed:

Steve visits Mon-Fri.

Steve laughs at all of your jokes, even the mean ones.

Steve applies chapstick when he’s nervous.

Steve will untangle your wires without making it weird.

The name Steve no longer sounds the same after reading it fifteen times over.

“I’m so sorry, sweetie.” Sam places a hand on Steve’s back. “It’s not that he’s remembering everything again.”

“Oh.”

“He just doesn’t want to forget you.”

No. That can’t be right. That can’t be possible. Of course Eddie knows who Steve is. Of course he does.

Steve finds a shitty excuse to get the hell out of this place. He’s polite about it because Sam is a kindhearted person, but this is so fucking unfair. Every last bit of it, down the last ink stain on Eddie’s nondominant arm.

Max isn’t awake. Eddie still has a skim-milk memory. Nothing has gotten better?

Well that shit ends today. Because whatever detour Steve’s mind discovered tonight, it’s leading him down a fucking freeway of tenacity. He’s fueled by whatever attraction or feelings he’s developing for Eddie. Whether it’s friendship or something more, it really doesn’t matter. Not after tonight.

Steve just cares about Eddie way too much to let his mind rot away like this. He’s too close, too connected to the problem to let it go unsolved forever.

As soon as Steve gets home, he calls Robin.

“Really, dingus?” Robin answers the phone like that. Annoyed and groaning already. “It’s late and I’m neck-deep in a John Hughes marathon.”

“It’s about Eddie.” Steve gets right to it.

“Is he okay?”

“I don’t know.”

“Oh fuck.” She exhales loudly. “How can I help?”

“You’re friends with his bandmates, right?”

“Yeah, kinda. Why?”

Steve flips through the memory log. Locates one of his crucial bullet points:

Eddie can hum the theme songs to all of the shitty soap operas (even on bad days).

“I need you to ask them to make a mixtape of Eddie’s favorite songs.” Steve requests. “And it should be in chronological order. From stuff he liked as a kid, to stuff he’s into now.”

“Okay…” Robin pauses. “And you think this will help?”

“I don’t know.” Which is true, it could be a big waste of time. “But I’ve gotta try something.”

This might be dumb. But music helped them defeat(ish) Vecna. So there’s a possibility it could massage the knots in Eddie’s mind. Relax him enough to remember his life. All of it.

“Oh, and one more thing.” Steve adds before hanging up.

“What?”

Steve hits the accelerator on his freeway of tenacity.

“I need my fucking car back.”

[artssslut2]

Unexpected: Part Seven

Art Donaldson x Pregnant!Reader

Smut, Fluff, Angst

Being on tour with Art was great… for the most part. The only downside is now you were 25 weeks pregnant. So far you have gotten to see two different countries which has been amazing, the plane rides were rough, you never liked flying but now it was worse. The doctors said you have to get up and walk the isles every hour, and on top of that you had to get up and pee like every five seconds. You were having a lot of anxiety latley, all you wanted to do was get a nursery together and buy clothes and organize them , but it was rough when you didn’t have a house to do that in. You had a bad habit of keeping things in so Art really didn’t know. On the bright side you finally felt the baby kick. Art however did not, she would move all day but whenever Art was around she didn’t move. He was getting really nervous that she wouldn’t like him or that she was scared of him.

“She’s probably just sleeping, baby’s need sleep too you know.”

“Well she sleeps too much.” He pouted

Surprisingly you love learning about physiotherapy, and you loved working with your best friend.

You and Art got home from one of his matches after a very long day.

“I’m gonna shower, you want to join me?” He asked walking though the hotel door into your suite.

“My feet hurt so bad I just want to sit down” you said dramatically collapsing onto the couch. Art laughed and went into the bathroom. You pulled out your computer to work on the list you were making for the baby. You looked at all the stuff you still needed, then you wondered where the fuck you were going to put all of this stuff. Your head started to throb with worry.

“Hey babe what do you want for dinner? We could-“ you felt yourself snap

“Art Stop!” You said firmly. He looked surprised kind of like a kicked puppy, he was use to your mood swings at this point though. He knew it was best to not say anything. “We have nothing for the baby.” You said rubbing your temples

“What do you mean we have that swing that my aunt sent us.” He said calmly

“At home. We have that at home we aren’t home right now art. We won’t even be home when she’s born.”

“We are going home, around your due date remember? We’re taking a few weeks off before we start traveling again.” He tried to comfort you and sit next to you but it wasn’t working,

“That’s not enough Art. Where will she sleep or play? How are we gonna travel with a newborn? dont they need like stability or -“

“Hey hey hey. Y/n take a breath” he tried gently interrupted you. “We are going to figure all of this stuff out I promise. It might be a little crazy and chaotic at first but we will get used to it. We can have stuff shipped to the house and then when we get home we can figure out what we need and how to do everything. I promise we will be okay. And the baby will have us as her stability.” You smiled slightly, he could always calm you down.

“Okay but can we start ordering things now. Because I’m going crazy Art.” You said leaning closer to him.

“Of course my darling” he chuckled softly kissing your head. “Should we get dinner first?” He asked, on cue your mood totally changed you didn’t want to eat anything,

“Actually I think I want something else.” You smirked,

“Yeah like what?” He asked not catching onto what you were saying. You giggled putting a hand to his face and pulling him in, your other hand slid down him abs to his lap, he watched your hand carefully

“Yeah?” He asked growing hot, you just nodded and climbed onto his lap. Your belly was sizable now, it was pressed right up to arts toned abs as you kissed. It grew hotter and hotter, you pulled his shirt off of him. You aggressively made out with him rubbing your hands all over him while grinding on his rock hard dick. You grew very close to an orgasm.

“Fuck y/n” he moaned as he watched you get off from dry humping his cock. When you rode out your high Art reached down to free his aching cock as you pulled your dress up. Art frantically pushed your underwear to the side and effortlessly slid himself into you. You both let out a moan in sync. You immediately started bouncing on him hard and fast. He grabbed your ass so hard and rocked you back and fourth.

“Please Art fuck me harder I need you.” You begged. This drove Art crazy, he picked you up still on his cock and flipped you on the couch so you were on your back. He started pounding into you so hard you could feel all of him inside you. You moaned like you were in a porno and so did he

“You’re so needy aren’t you? Fuck I’m gonna miss the hormones.” He said while throwing his head back,

“Cum with me art please” you moaned trying to hold on, he lowered his chest to yours and came with a heavy moan, you followed throbbing around him. You both caught your breath as he was still inside of you. He pulled out and flopped on the couch, you chuckled at how red his cheeks were.

“Ok I’m ready for dinner now.” You smiled standing up adjusting your dress. Art looked at you and laughed tiredly.

You and Art had decided to go down to the hotel restaurant to grab some food. Once you had finished you went back upstairs to unwind for the night. You both crawled into bed and were looking at the list on your computer. You browsed various stores and websites online for baby things like cribs and towels and bottles. Looking at all the baby stuff made you so antsy to meet your little girl. You felt the urge to buy everything you saw. Art did too.

“We should get her stuff in yellow so it can match her name.” Art said slyly referencing his name idea that you had shot down many times.

“Ha ha” you responded sarcastically.

“What do you think we should name her then?” He asked laying back and stretching.

“I have no idea but-“ you gasped sharply and put a hand over your stomach. Art sat up quickly,

“What’s wrong, what happened?” He said panicking, you didn’t respond you moved your hand a little then smiled “what?!” He asked growing frantic

“It’s the baby, she’s kicking” you smiled looking at him, his face lit up mabye now he could finally feel his baby move. It looked like he was frozen. “Cmon give me you hand.” You laughed grabbing his hand, Art was quiet and focused like he was scared he would scare her away if he moved to fast. You placed his hand where she was moving then slid you hand lower to find her. You both waited for a second and then…

“Oh my gosh.” Art breathed out, a tear came into his eye and a smile spread on his face “that’s our baby?” He asked sweetly,

“That’s our baby.” You beamed with peer joy, you wiped a tear that fell from his eye. The baby started moving around after hearing you and Arts voices. “She likes your voice.” You told him. Art looks more in love than he had ever looked,

“I can’t believe we made a baby. Me and you y/n” you felt nothing but love in your chest you kissed your boyfriend and overlapped his hand with yours,

“You know she moved when I said the name Sunny” he smirked, you rolled your eyes “I think she likes it, do you like it Sunny girl?” He asked leaning to your belly, he placed a quick kiss on your bump then your lips. You laughed at your goofball of a boyfriend.

The rest of the night you ordered everything from a crib to onesies. Art even bought a baby tennis racquet of course. You both slept peacefully with arts hand never leaving your belly.

[kittartz]

I'm making a BillStan Fanfic right now but I'm not sure if it's ooc or not so uh here's a sneak peak (WIP):

He walked around the house as he reached the gift shop's door, slowly opening it. He peeked outside and saw a pinkish, round headed creature that's standing. Wearing a lab coat and glasses while holding a clipboard. “Stanley Pines?” it asked, turning its head slightly to its side. “Yes?” Stan replied, wondering why an axolotl was here, then again, anything can happen in Gravity Falls.

“Ah! Lovely to finally meet you, you can call me Ax, Bills doctorー”

“Bill Cipher!?” Stan exclaimed, did I not hit him hard enough? He was burned, reduced to ashes.

“Yes, I know some of you and your family's history with him. Not a lot, only his therapist knows. And they recommended Bill to have a summer with you and your family. It would help his healing process.” the salamander explained. It moves to the side and reveals Bill, only, he was not a triangle anymore. He had a human form. Almost human―he had a lanky build, pointy ears, yellow-ish skin, shoulder length blond and black hair, and a cyan slash against his face. He wore a bright orange suit, like the ones in prison and he had a collar around his neck.

“We’ve completely stripped his powers so you don’t have to worry about him suddenly bursting into flames. Oh and, Before I forget, here's the remoteー” a small black remote was pushed into Stan's free hand, “ーfor the collar around his neck. It shocks him, it doesn't do much damage, just enough to control him. I'll take my leave now, buh-bye!” The salamander then disappeared. 

Stan presses the button his finger was hovering on. “Fuckー” Bill said as he held the collar. “What are you actually doing here? I don't know if this is some sick joke to get back at usー me but i'm uninterested.” Stan spat out, his finger lingering on the button again.

“Wait, wait, wait! I swear this isn't a trick, if it was, I wouldn't let that thing near me.” Bill said, sitting on his knees on the porch. A long silence fell before Bill realized Stan would listen to his explanation.

“After you “killed” me I shattered. And that was the only time I was scared that I’d actually lose my life so I called out to the Axolotls’ name. But in return for me living again, I went to theraprisim. Time over there is different from here, I was there for 1000 years. Some time for me but a lot for you.” 

They hear footsteps approaching them.

“Grunle Stan, who are you talking to?” Mabel asked, standing at the corridor separating the gift shop and the house. “Don’t worry about it pumpkin. Just some homeless man.” Stan says as he shuts the door. Bill sees this as an opportunity and runs for it—click—he falls to the ground groaning.

Mabel stares blankly at Stan, reading his body language, one hand behind his back, forced smile, his eyes looking at anywhere but her. “You’re lying.” she said, staring blankly.

“What? No..” dragging the o, “..yeah but let's talk about it later. Let's eat first, you go sit, I'll be there.” Mable then turns to go to the dining room. Stan watches her until she is completely out of sight. 

He turns around and opens the door again, seeing Bill on the ground, “I don't trust you around my family but I’m not letting you roam free.” He took a fistful of Bill's clothes and dragged him as he took a rope from the shop and tied his hands behind a tree. “Don’t think about escaping, I have your remote.” he threatened. “I know Pines.” Bill said, saying the family's name bitterly. Click. “Shitー why do you keep using that? Do you feel some sort of revenge? Being able to control me?” Bill asked genuinely but it sounded like taunting to Stan. Stan stayed silent, tightly tying the rope around his wrists. Once he finished, he stood up and went back into the house.

Let me know if this is ooc or bad writing, I'm new to this so sorry, please leave criticism :3

edit;This is just the first part btw, it's a oneshot. They get to know each other of course

[dearanakin]

trust you | anakin skywalker: episode III

Warning: mentions of grieving, injury, cursing

Word count: 1.6k

Previous chapter | Read on Wattpad

*

Anakin

I woke up to the bright lights of the medical room, my eyes slowly opening to adjust my vision. I felt my body ache like hell, as though I had been run over by a truck.

I also felt a sharp pain on my left side and on my chest. Fuck. It took me several seconds to realize I wasn't alone there. Looking over from the corner of my eye, I noticed someone was attaching my metal arm back again.

It was (Y/N). I took a sharp breath and inhaled loudly. She got caught up, not expecting to see me awake. "Oh- I'm so sorry, did I wake you?".

She didn't manage to finish attaching the piece as she waited for a response, and I shook my head. I could say I was glad I have finally gotten it back, but I was beyond pissed.

My mouth was dry, and I was feeling like shit. I tried to lift my torso and sit up, but she stopped me right away. I shot her a confused and annoyed glare.

"You're not supposed to be moving too much, Master" She said in a whisper. "Do you need anything? I- I can let the doctors know you're awake. Luke fell asleep on the couch".

Then I looked on my left side and saw my little boy all curled up, deep in his sleep. I sighed, he must have been really worried about me. Confused, too.

It was taking all of me to not call her out after what happened to me. But I wasn't going to do that, not in front of Luke.

"I want you to finish this-" I looked over my faux arm. "And I want you to be out". My voice came out hoarse from the lack of speaking and drinking water.

(Y/N) looked at me in complete shock, but nodded and didn't say another word.

As soon as she finished it - which didn't take her much, since she was professional at it - I watched as she stood up from her chair. (Y/N) kept her gaze on the floor the entire time, not even noticing when I gripped my metal fingers around her wrist tightly.

Her eyes shot up to where I was holding her, and she hesitantly looked at me. "This is-" I had to clear my throat as my voice wouldn't come out. "This is your fault, I hope you know it".

I let go of her, staring at her back as she made her way out of the room. I pinched the bridge of my nose and muttered under my breath.

Lukey was still out, and I didn't want to wake him up.

-

It took me two fucking days to actually get released from the medical bay as they wouldn't let me get out at all. My stab wound was barely healed, even though they made sure I would be able to be up and walk.

I spent almost the entire day with Luke, helping him with his homework, as well as playing with his toys or teaching him a few mechanic skills I learned back in Tatooine.

When I could finally do something rather than being completely useless, I headed to the office where we usually plan our missions. I walked past the door and Cal hurriedly came to meet me with a hug.

I groaned from the touch and he realized he pushed the boundaries. "I'm sorry, Master! Jesus, I forgot about it for a second there. I'm just glad you're up and good".

He started rambling, and I placed a hand on his shoulder, calming him down, "I appreciate it".

I smiled briefly before sitting down on the desk, releasing a low sigh. It's only been two days and I already missed being out there.

After discussing for a couple of hours, we were all dismissed for a gathering outside the Temple. I excused myself and made my way to the dining hall, where Luke should be having lunch with his few friends and C-3PO.

I felt my spine become rigid and my hand went cold as I saw him bonding with (Y/N), again. I couldn't help but roll my eyes in annoyance, trying to simmer down. I haven't forgotten I was pretty mad for what happened.

"Luke!" I called out in a rather loud tone and he looked my way. The boy waved at me and proceeded to get back at what he was doing with her.

She barely looked at me and I knew she was keeping her guard up when I was around. I walked toward them, watching as she managed to handle a T-16 skyhopper toy. It was probably his.

-

NO POV

(Y/N) felt her heartbeat go off too fast, and she could hear her blood pumping through her veins. After what happened between them two days before, she couldn't even handle being near him again.

And the fact she was found making company for Luke made the situation even worse. She followed his steps as he approached them and sat next to the boy.

It was like he was never really calm. He was constantly angry or frowning at everyone and everything. The only moments he seems to be at peace is when he's with Luke.

"What did I tell you the other day?" Anakin mumbled, not even disguising how he glanced at her. His son pouted and apologized.

"He came to me, asking to help him with hi-" (Y/N) was about to explain but he cut her off.

"Didn't I make myself clear the other day? You have to stay close to 3PO" He pretty much sounded coarse, although he wasn't yelling.

"He said she's trustworthy, daddy. And she was helping me set up my toy" Luke kept his head down the whole time, not daring to look up at his father.

This is ridiculous, she thought. What? He thinks she's gonna literally lose it and kidnap him? Or just vanish with the kid without anyone noticing?

He huffed, still not giving two fucks if she was there or not. Anakin tried to look indifferent by the way his son was literally trusting a person he couldn't trust. Someone who was strange to them. Well, quite like it.

"I'm sorry, I have work to do" She gathered her things and rushed out of the table without even looking back.

Anakin took the toy from his son's little hands and gave it a look. "What's up with it?".

Luke sat on his lap and pointed to one of the wings. "One of the wings is hanging loose. I thought she could fix it, since she fixed your arm".

He sounded frustrated, especially because his father noticed how low the boy's voice came out. Anakin felt guilty about Luke and swallowed hard.

Maybe he could fix it himself. Or maybe he could ask some engineer or a Droid to do it.

He just didn't want to have to see her again.

-

He was definitely frustrated. He felt like he wasn't being a good father, like he wasn't able to actually educate his son and be there for him all the time. Even though he had time to rest his body and heal faster, Anakin felt worn out.

Obviously he noticed the way people looked at him, even his fellow Masters. It didn't matter to him to be honest, he already made himself clear that he didn't care about that.

His eyes were holding a shadow of sadness and frustration with himself; they weren't vibrant with the same determination he had before. The blue irises became cold and sad.

He was in the training room, practicing his movements with the newly fixed robotic arm. Anakin couldn't actually complain about the job they had done, because it seemed to work better than before.

The limb was polished, even. He swooned his lightsaber around the room, avoiding any abrupt movement to prevent any harm to his wounds.

It was a lot easier when Obi-Wan was around. He definitely had a good mood to practice, he was always supporting his apprentice. 

Sometimes, when it got too quiet, Anakin would hear his rough words shout out to his former Master.

"I hate you!" He had just lost the love of his life. "You were my brother, Anakin. I loved you".

"Were". "Loved". It felt like his heart got ripped out of his chest and stomped on.

After that, he promised he wouldn't trust anyone. Besides C-3PO and R2-D2, he knows he can barely trust the other Jedi he goes on missions with.

His mind goes way back. To the day his mother died. To the day Padmé died. To the day he felt betrayed by Obi-Wan. To the day Palpatine left him behind, beaten up and mourning for his losses.

It has been six years already. He should've gotten over it. He has Luke now. He has the Droids; and somewhat, he had Cal Kestis, who was a loyal Jedi and colleague.

His flesh knuckles were almost raw from the punches he was throwing at the punching bag. It was becoming hard to reach his relief that day. He let out a strangled groan as he threw his final jab, sending the bag flying.

Anakin fell to his knees, feeling defeated. He didn't want to cry out his sorrows, he told himself he was past that.

From the corner of his eyes, he felt like he was being watched. The shadow standing behind the closed doors was glancing at him with a knowing look.

They have been there before. 

@jackie-on-the-loose @adorbzliz @himesuedi @kingdomhate

[hoardlikegoldenirises]

This is the counterpart to my post about Peter and glasses.

I could have included some more details or doodles of Kaine's like, various mobility devices as he gets older but: this is supposed to be glasses-focused. and also... my hand doesn't want me to do that.

closeups below:

baby Kaine. Even though I claimed that this drawing is solely about glasses, it's also to show that Kaine's hair gets darker as he matures and it was much redder when he was young. And only mild myopia at 12 lol

I'm not gonna go into the whole timeline here but if you haven't read Dr. Warren's notes on Kaine's development for windowverse (major CW for a lot of stuff, please read the tags) the tl;dr is that Kaine is 12 when he gets taken out and then rapidly aged to adulthood. I did this on purpose rather than going along with the 616 canon. my AU my rules etc.

Anyway here's Kaine 3 years later, when he's 24 and is freed from Warren. Still mildly nearsighted but also starts developing a specific kind of cataract because he's been on various corticosteroid and other medications that fuck with his body (probably better than his body killing him) (maybe) It's a posterior subcapsular cataract btw and it develops basically over the span of a few months, overlooked by the people around him and by himself.

He is actually in the hospital (no longer with Warren) when this happens, partly because of an adrenal crisis from oops suddenly stopping prednisone cold turkey after three years. Everyone's a little preoccupied...

His skin should probably not be so clear here now that I look at this lol but I was more focused on his eyes and hair than his various lesions and acne/skin picking...

Oh, his droopy eyelid is from physical trauma btw. A combo of nerve damage and his orbit/brow bone and surrounding area having healed wrong from a pretty bad break/injury (related to his busted up nose). It's not Bell's palsy and he can still move the left side of his face for the most part but the area around his eye especially is definitely weaker

jumping forward another few years —

by 2015 Kaine can't really see much out his left eye, aside from like... light glare and stuff like that. Bottom left is Kaine in 2014, hair still in the process of darkening as it grows Very Rapidly.

During the windowverse equivalent of The Lost Years and Redemption, from late 2012 to early 2015, Kaine is really underweight (nothing new to him, really...) and very sick and unmedicated, and also dealing with things like the long-term chronic effects of ending steroid medications, withdrawals, etc etc etc... not doing so hot...

He also gains a lot more scars over this time period.

Top right is mid to late 2015, around September probably, don't know why I wrote 2016. Kaine keeps his hair long for a few months in Houston then buzzes his hair in November 2015:

After some shit happens. Post-werewolf mauling, basically. Included a mask on this one since he is on (steroid sparing) immunosuppressants and needs to be more careful... at Donald's urging lol

Kaine also wears sunglasses inside pretty often (along with stuff like ear plugs, which I forgot to draw lol) since, like Peter, he is sensitive to bright lights and is also just in general a little more prone to sensory overload than Peter is. So those are supposed to be Tom Ford Marko FT0144 sunglasses, aka James Bond sunglasses lol (Kaine does not know this, of course)

Anyway, astigmatism in his right eye is getting kind of noticeable (it's more than that but...) He also has acquired some optic nerve damage in his already blind eye because of a combination of factors, so that eye actually is totally blind now

Anyway 2016:

After some stuff happens, Kaine ends up back in New York (with Aracely), things are hectic, finally settle down... very late in 2016 Kaine finally goes to the eye doctor

Unsurprisingly the eye doctor wants Kaine to get cataract removal surgery. Also unsurprisingly, Kaine refuses.

Anyway his indoor frames are based on Gucci's men's cat eye glasses, which technically only come in tortoiseshell but I decided that it's My AU and I make the rules and I can say that Gucci also made these in black, in windowverse. and also kaine's size. lol.

$450 💀

Like Peter, Kaine has tinted lenses. Unlike Peter, they are not Transitions/photochromic. So indoors he has lighter shades with a gradient to almost clear at the bottom, no polarization or anything like that.

For outside—

These are just Kate Spade Genice sunglasses with the lenses replaced w/ black mirrored polarized lenses. Though I don't think I made them flat enough—

My justification for Kaine being able to wear itty bitty designer shades (seriously, why are the arms on kate spade frames so short?) is that he has a couple million dollars and he can do whatever he wants. (Like have the arms replaced.) These specific shades also have pretty large lenses so I figure as long as the arms are lengthened, they should fit.

And also I like them and I want him to wear them.

Anyway jumping ahead like 8 years to when Kaine is in his mid 30s—

More Tom Ford frames. Ingrid, this time, with prescription lenses presumably lol

I'll be honest I did consider giving Kaine a prosthetic eye, but... in this context I think the only reason he'd ever get eye surgery would be if it was a life-threatening emergency, and tbh even with issues like glaucoma and complications from the cataract, it's not clear to me that it would ever be life-threatening unless he managed to get an infection, which I guess is possible, but idk? Eye pain is def not enough motivation for Kaine to have it removed, especially since surgery would increase his risk of infection on account of being immunocompromised on the long-term.

If I were to go that route, windowverse Kaine is the type to have an expensive and glamorous eye made btw, because he is already going to draw attention, he cannot look "normal," regardless of how realistic a professional prosthetic can be, and people are going to stare at him regardless, so I think he would prefer to do something that feels, like... well, like him.

Anywayyyy... I've left it as just an eternal cataract for now but if it turns out that would cause actual dangerous problems I will have them take his eye out...

As far as his working eye goes, in his mid-30s his eyesight is definitely worse, and he's pretty nearsighted, but it's definitely still basically fully correctable with prescription lenses (issues w/ depth perception and lack of binocular vision notwithstanding). But without, he has to look pretty closely at stuff like food labels to be able to read it and even then it can still be blurry.

Those frames are Gucci as well btw

again, lenses replaced with darker, polarized lenses to suit his needs wrt light sensitivity etc.

Kaine's temples are also starting to thin a tiny bit but it's not very noticeable yet.

This is also four years after he and Aracely moved into a luxury motor home and adopted a stray cat, and his meds are not too awful to keep track of (yay for patches), and actually make him feel comparatively better, so he's like... doing alright for himself. Even his eyebrows are healthier (because he isn't compulsively ripping them out from stress)

Jumping forward another 5-7 years:

I made these frames up on account of it's 10 years in the future. Continuing the cat eye trend.

Kaine starts letting his facial hair grow out at some point between 36 and 40, probably just because shaving is kind of a hassle and he has arthritis (etc), and it's not like it will ever grow very long... he also goes fully gray very quickly upon reaching middle age lmao — Peter doesn't start going gray until a few years after Kaine, and even then doesn't really get grayer than a big skunk stripe before he dies. Ben goes gray in his 50s, but may or may not still be bleaching or coloring his hair at that point lol

Kaine's hairline is obviously also receding a bit more obviously now, unlike his brothers... :/ damn them (okay Peter's got a tiny bit of a receding hairline by 48 but only barely)

But Kaine is... dare I say... kind of happy? He's in a good place in his 30s and 40s, emotionally and relationship-wise, with his whole platonic soulmate thing with Aracely, and the random stray cat she adopted, and their expensive motor home and so on. His vision may be getting worse and he is retired because of his many disabilities but he's like... pretty okay.

Anyway Kaine is very undeniably going blind by the time he's 40 and he's started to learn braille around age 41 as he accepts that.

...probably his lenses should be thicker but I can barely draw glasses as it is..........

In addition to whatever specs he's wearing, he finally gets a tactile cellphone for emergencies around this time, basically only for speed-dialing Aracely, Ben or Peter, or 911.

I figure he prefers tactile stuff like braille or buttons because it's all touch-based and he doesn't like dealing with TTS or dictation (for multiple reasons) and doesn't like screen readers (mostly for sensory reasons), but he does occasionally use those things because sometimes tactile feels worse than listening to a robot, and obviously screen readers can be more useful for specific situations.

ANYWAY Kaine probably has like a BlindShell 2 or MiniVision (non smart) or whatever the hell.

It's worth saying: Kaine can still see out of his right eye, but he can't clarify images well, mostly just moving shapes and blurry silhouettes and colors and light. He can still read really massive text if it's close enough to his face (with glasses) or like, really huge signs, but not with crispness or clarity, and probably still causes some strain. Anything else is illegible.

Still sensitive to light and being dazzled though, probably actually worse now, so still wearing tinted lenses both outdoors and indoors.

Does orientation & mobility around age 43, once someone finally thinks to refer him to a low vision specialist... He does get a cane but not the typical long cane people associate with blindness. He mostly navigates okay on his own since he can still see a little, and the cane is mostly for his chronic pain and other health problems... but he's definitely a lot slower than he used to be, as well as easily startled, and prefers to have Aracely with him if he's out and about.

But all things considered, he's not doing too terribly for a guy who wasn't expected to survive past 30.

So, Anyway, mid 40s:

(aka the cutest part of this drawing)

Another frame I made up. Just nude acetate and bronze wireframe...

And a puppy lol (American Doberman)

When Kaine is around 45, since he does have some problems navigating, especially if he's alone, and Aracely can't be around him all the time, Aracely convinces Kaine to get a service dog

Warren's Jackal mask in windowverse was a black leather Anubis mask, not a green bat thing, so the blurry silhouettes of black Dobies make Kaine... stressed, which is why a brown Dobie with uncropped ears (and a Dobie because they drool less)

It takes a while to train her of course, and lots of money too... but they do

So once Brownie is a year old, Kaine has his very own seeing eye dog 🐶

There are like... more details but I want to actually draw Brownie and Kaine's gear for her, so I'll just leave that for some other time. also this post is way too long as it is lmao

Peter probably does bitch a little bit about the breed choice but he can deal with it.

that's it for now.

[erathene]

Safe with You (Part 1)

Summary: Strider turns up unexpectedly at The Pony, wounded and needing help. You're a barmaid, not a doctor, but right now he doesn't have much choice, and emotions are running high from his last visit.

Word count: 2.1k

Pairing: Aragorn x Female!Reader 

Warnings: LOTS of swearing and cursing, again. Graphic descriptions of blood/injury, (probably inaccurate) descriptions of medical treatment, loss of consciousness.

AO3 Link: Safe with You

Author's note: Special thanks again to DocFigureskaterM for being my beta reader. This story follows on from my previous Aragorn x F!Reader series called F*ck It; whilst there are references here to that story, both works can be read independently. I am still trying not to swear in front of my toddler so I couldn't resist continuing with the feisty curse-laden reader I developed in F*ck It. Enjoy!

Part 2 has now been posted!

......................

The Prancing Pony was lit dimly by a handful of small lanterns. Most of the larger hanging lamps had been extinguished after the last punters had left for the night, and that had been around an hour ago. The main fire had burned low, with only glowing remnants of firewood remaining. The Gaffer always insisted on saving the fuel for when paying customers were occupying the place; this meant doing your cleaning with the bare minimum of brightness. 

Your shift was almost finished. Finally. It couldn't have come soon enough. You leaned low over a table in the bar where your lonely lantern stood, giving the polished wood a good scrub with your cloth. It was the very last table to be cleaned. The balls of your feet ached from standing, your shoulders twinged from lifting and scrubbing and carrying many mugs of drink from table to table all evening. Tossing your rag back into the bucket, you sighed and quickly massaged the back of your neck. At last, you could hang up your apron and call it a day. 

No sooner had this thought crossed your mind, there was a thumping knock on the door. You rolled your eyes. "We're closed!" you yelled, glancing over at the main entrance to the inn to ensure that the door was still locked and bolted.

The knocking came again, this time with less force and urgency. Fuck's sake. You strode quickly across the room carrying your lantern and unbolted the door, readying yourself to tell the visitor to be on their way in the politest way possible with the least amount of curse words.

"Strider!" your voice gave away your surprise as light fell upon the familiar ranger's face. "What are you-" you began to ask, but the question died on your lips as you took in the full sight of him. 

Blood caked the side of the man's face and cheek, running freely from an open head wound. He was panting as he leaned against the doorway of the Prancing Pony, as though the very act of standing upright was exhausting for him. The hand that hadn't been thumping on the door to get your attention was wrapped around his middle, and you could vaguely see his clothing was stained dark red where there were obviously further injuries. All in all, the ranger was a fucking wreck. He managed a weak smile, before staggering forwards over the threshold as his strength almost gave out.

You cursed aloud as you caught him, his dead weight landing in your already worn-out limbs. Gravity worked against you both as you heaved Strider's form into the main room. His head lolled as you shuffled him over to one of the nearest high-backed armchairs that lined the closest wall. "Don't you go leaving mess on this chair, you hear me Strider?" you gave him a good poke in the ribs, which caused him to groan with pain, but it brought him back to lucidity which was what you wanted. If you were up all night scrubbing his bodily fluids from the fabric of that chair, you might actually kill him. 

"Would I.. do that?" he spluttered as you hurried back to the door to bolt it shut again. 

As you crossed the room, your attention was drawn to something that glittered on the dark wood floor near the armchair where Strider was sitting; a small silver ring with a singular polished green emerald. It probably belonged to a punter who would come searching for it tomorrow. You quickly bent down and pocketed the trinket, before rounding on the ranger. 

"I'll not remind you of the last time you were here then, when you decorated my bedroom floor with the contents of your stomach," you said sarcastically. You stood in front of him with your hands on your hips, looking down at him like a mother would regard a scorned child. "Cleaning that up whilst you took a nap was a fucking delight. Won't forget that in a hurry, will I? Now, up with you, let's get you to a bed. You look like you fucking need it."

Strider groaned again, even more so when you started to heave him to his feet. With one of his arms slung over your shoulder, you awkwardly shuffled him towards the staircase, vaguely trying to recall the guest book entries and which rooms were free tonight. One of the hobbit-sized rooms would likely be free of disturbances for at least a week, but this option was discarded almost immediately; with Strider's stature, you'd have to line up all four beds together just to allow the ranger to lie horizontally. Not ideal. 

Just when you were considering which other bedrooms might be available, something caught your attention. A dampness was seeping into the fabric of your clothes where you were supporting the ranger, making the cloth stick to your skin. Strider was bleeding, and bleeding bad. Fuck. Panic setting in, you instinctively headed for the safety of your own room.

Once the door to your chamber was firmly shut, you rounded on the ranger. "What the fuck, Strider? What happened? Who did this to you?" you bombarded him with questions as you helped him remove the belongings he carried on his back, noticing how he swayed dangerously in the process. 

"It's nothing," he said with gritted teeth, tossing his pack down onto your bed. His hands shook as he fumbled with the clasp of the worn travel bag. 

"Do not bullshit me," you wrenched the bag from his grasp. "Sit."

Realising that you were not buying his attempt to brush off your concerns, Strider lowered himself to the edge of the bed, wincing as he settled on the mattress. You watched as he held his breath for a couple of seconds before exhaling with his eyes closed. Clearly whatever injury he was sporting underneath those travel-stained and blood-soaked garments was giving him a lot of pain. Your brain was in full panic mode, trying to decide what to do for the best. There was a doctor in town, but he lived on the opposite side of Bree. If you ran, perhaps you could get Strider the help he so desperately needed. "I'll go get-“

"No," Strider barked, seemingly reading your mind. "If you want to help me, find my healing kit. Green leather pouch," he clarified as you began to sift through the bag. You soon located the item, handing it over to the ranger. If it weren't for the gravity of the situation, you might have made some comment about the distinct Elvish look and feel about it, the fine stitching and intricate embroidery on the front giving away its origins.

Strider hastily unbound the kit and grabbed one of the many small vials, tearing out the cork stopper with his teeth and consuming the contents in one large gulp. Tossing the empty vial to one side, he then picked up a small leather packet which was no bigger than his palm. He shrugged off his travelling cloak before attempting to remove his overcoat. Seeing how much he strained, you stepped forward to help him, pulling off his coat and shirt as delicately as you could manage.

Fuck, there's so much blood. You stared, wide-eyed and frozen, your jaw hanging open like an insect trap as the man in front of you poked and prodded his own flesh. A giant gash ran from his ribcage to the top of his hip. It looked deep. You weren't unused to seeing blood; the Pony had seen its fair share of brawls that had ended with bloodied noses and fists. But this was different. Worse, even. This lesion had been inflicted by a weapon, perhaps a knife or dagger that had sliced through the ranger's skin. So much blood. You continued to gape as he finished examining himself and opened the small leather pouch he had been gripping in his palm, revealing a needle and thread.

"I need a clean cloth and water," Strider murmured.

Realising that he intended to literally stitch himself back together, you finally unfroze from the shock of seeing his injury. "Have you lost your fucking mind? This isn't an infirmary, Strider. You need a doctor!" You were almost shouting. Shit, maybe if you had ignored him and ran across town to the physician's house, you would be halfway back with help by now.

Strider looked at you with exasperation. Fuck. Whether you liked it or not, there was an injured man in your bedroom, and clearly he was a help me or don't, that's fine type of patient. You quickly went to your cupboard, retrieving a couple of clean face cloths, followed by a bowl of water filled from your water jug. Your hands shook as you dipped the fabrics in the bowl and handed one to the ranger. He groaned under his breath as he pressed one of the cloths to his own skin, wiping away the excess blood that continued to weep from the wound. The material came away crimson, but the wound seemed no cleaner than it was before.

You sighed loudly before kneeling in front of him. The sight of the ranger struggling to tend to himself tugged at your heartstrings. You might have scorned him, shouted at him, but he was still Strider. He was still the ever-so-slightly hunky, weather-beaten ranger who you often thought about even when he wasn't around. Taking one of the damp cloths, you grimaced as you set to work cleaning the wound, wringing out the material in the bowl of water between every stroke. Strider took out his needle and attempted to thread it, yet his hands still quaked uncontrollably. You put him out of his misery by taking the sharp silver implement from his grasp and completing the task for him. He glanced at you apologetically. "You're going to have to do it for me."

You blinked at him. "Me? Strider, I can barely sew a button, there's no way-"

"You have to," he choked.

"I can't." Your eyes started to sting as tears threatened to escape.

Strider gripped your hand. "You must. I'll tell you exactly what to do. Please," his final word was barely a whisper. 

You cursed aloud. Curse Strider and his inability to act like a normal man. Curse his wandering nomadic ranger lifestyle that meant he drifted in and out of your life whenever he felt like it. Curse this rotten situation that you found yourself in; you should be tucked up in bed after a hard day's work, and yet you were about to quite literally stitch a ranger back together. Curse it all.

"Okay, fine." Resolved to the fact that he wasn't going to take no for an answer and he clearly needed medical help, you swallowed the giant lump in your throat and took the needle from his hand once more. "What do I do?" 

Strider laid himself down on your bed and began to instruct you on how to stitch his wound. Start in the middle, work towards the edge. Push the needle through, not too far. Bend and loop through to the other side. You were morbidly impressed that he managed to give out his directions through gritted teeth; maybe that meant he had a ridiculously high pain tolerance. If your roles were reversed, you were pretty sure you would be screaming in agony with each jab of the needle, especially if the hands holding it were as inexperienced as your own.

Eventually you had stitched half of the open wound, and you asked Strider how to tie off the thread as you finished the final suture. There was no response. You glanced up to the head of the bed and saw Strider's eyes had closed. "Hey!" you poked him in the ribs once more. "No falling asleep, not until I'm finished," you said firmly. And not until you've checked what I've done to you is satisfactory, you added inwardly. Who knows if the stitches you had put in would actually hold.

"Sorry," Strider mumbled. "The vial I drank.. was for pain relief. A side effect is drowsiness. I should have warned you.." His eyes opened and closed slowly as he fought the effects of the medicine he had ingested. Eventually he stilled, his chest rising and falling slowly as he slipped into unconsciousness. 

Great. You were now on your own, and the job was only half finished. There was still the cut to his head to examine, too. Fucking great. 

You took a deep and shaking breath, before starting back on stitching the remains of the wound. It was going to be a very long night.

[9haharharley1]

Have some Kill Bill AU flashback work cuz I'm struggling with this one. I keep mistakenly writing the present-day situations verbatim with the movie, and I don't. Want. To. Do. That.

---

Back when they knew each other, when they had been something akin to friends, the assassin known as the Tooth Fairy had been one of the deadliest in the world. Her name back then was Tiana, but she now goes by Trinity Wells, having been married to a wealthy Dr. Wells for almost four years now. He's confident that the good doctor has no idea about her past extracurricular activities. Another wave of bitter anger settles in him. Why was she allowed her happy ending now, but he hadn't?

Mismatched blue and brown eyes crinkled with laughter, Jack's bright smile aimed at the woman across from him.

"No way!" he crowed in disbelief. Pitch grumbled from his place next to him, his arm resting on the back of Jack's chair as he leaned back. He sipped his coffee, hiding his smile. "Tell me someone took pictures!"

Tooth laughed, leaning over the table with her own mug between her hands. "It's true! I took him out with his own sword! Had him pinned to the mat under me, and he was just so angry. I wouldn't have believed it if I didn't feel something poking me in the ass!"

Jack guffawed even louder, doubling over and clutching his sides. He could barely open his eyes wide enough to look at Pitch. "I ca- Oh, I can't breathe! I can't believe you got a fucking fight boner!"

Tooth snorted loudly. "He gets them all time! It's actually quite shameless. He's always so Mr. Prim and Proper all the time, and yet North almost broke his nose the first time he noticed!"

"Pfft!" Jack laughed louder.

"You can't tell me you haven't noticed, Jack!" Tooth continued. Pitch's smile faded a bit with the comment, Jack's laughter noticeably starting to calm down. "The guy gets a serious kick out of getting his ass kicked, and you both spar all the time. I think you're the only one who can consistently wipe the floor with him actually."

"I, uh..." Jack cleared his throat. He tossed a cheeky grin at Pitch, but there was a light blush on his cheeks. Tooth would write it off as part of his laughing fit. "It... I... might have... noticed something."

It was Tooth's turn to double over laughing. "Oh, no! I'm so sorry, Jack! It's always so awkward when it happens!"

"Oh, please," Pitch finally sighed. Tooth didn't see the way his fingers had been dancing over Jack's spine through the whole conversation. "Like it doesn't happen to anyone else here. I've seen the way you drag North off to nearest empty room after a good match." Her face flared red and Jack was back to laughing. Pitch placed his mug down on the table and leaned forward. "Don't even get me started on Bunny. That man's a walking cesspool of testosterone and hormones."

"He's a good lay though," Tooth defended with a small grin. Pitch rolled his eyes, having had this conversation with her before. Jack was starting to grow quiet next to him. Pitch rubbed his foot against Jack's leg.

"If Manny has a problem with the way everyone gets their kicks, then he can take us all to HR about it." Jack and Tooth both laughed at that since they didn't exactly have an HR department in their line of work. "Until then, if you can manage to win in a fight against me, then you have to suffer for it like I will." Pitch grinned, not so much for his bold claim, but for the cold toes pressing back against his leg.

[twst-vision-of-the-crimson-rose]

Vision Of The Crimson Rose AU

(Made by @klai-16xoxo )

Welcome one and all to the world behind the curtains of reality!

Would you like to accompany Kalim and Riddle to their adventure through what it’s meant to be hidden from the world? And unlock many roads and stories and meets new characters that may or may not seem familiar to you?

If that the case then let’s go! Firstly why not get to know the two main characters a bit?

{Riddle Roseheart}

In this au, Riddle had been raised extra strictly by his mother to the point that his mother had developed an unhealthy obsession of perfection and placed a lot of expectations on him. That why when he started to go blind she didn’t like that and viewed it as a huge flaw… in which she was willing to do anything to get his vision back. So kuch so that with some connection, a mysterious Doctor had offered her a beautiful crimson red eyes to be his, in which she happily agreed… not knowing the dark secrets and event that followed those beautiful Crimson eyes.

Riddle in this au kinda has Abathy. While he has shown fear,anger,compassion and happiness, these would be rare, fleeting and moderate. He dose not fake his emotions tho, so whenever he shows them, they would be 100% genuine, while if he faked them it would be painfully obvious!

{Kalim Al Asim}

Kalim’s past is unclear even for himself, all he knows is that he had been drowned and his eyes had been stolen from him, despite that he somehow able to still use his other senses to move around and interact with his surroundings. It is only when Riddle had claimed his eyes that he finally can see again but through Riddle’s POV, Kalim want to uncover more about his past and would do anything to achieve this goal!

As for his personality… well it is pretty much just like the one in the game, he such a kind soul and always try to look at the bright side of things but deep down there is more to him then meet the eyes.

{referring and small facts}

// this au is still under work and tbh I made it for fun and it story still being worked at, meaning I am just going with the wind! All I know this au is like a horror rpg games like pocket mirror, mad father and so one! Tho I had a lot of help from @sleepy-meep when making this au so thank you bestie🫶 anyway let me just attack ye all with random facts!

// as for the fact, there so many bu I would not say all of them but here are few!

Riddle in this au may have abathy but tbh he such a sweet heart and a lil silly but I like to imagine him like Rachel from Angels of Death.

Kalim actually basically fucking Paimon from genshin lol he make sure to guide Riddle around and tell him all he knows… which surprisingly is a lot.

In the au, the two would go literally behind the curtains of reality and to multiple realms that is ruled by different Wardens and each one had it different themed

There this one character titled as “The Archiver” and the most powerful character in the au that oversees everything in the realms (also he is my twst oc, Takara lol you can learn all about him from my blog @klai-16xoxo )

In this au, NRC dose not really matter that much at, since the boys didn’t even go to it soooo~ yeah! I am not even sure if it dose exist hahah

Kalim can beet ass and wouldn’t hesitate, keep ya hand off Riddle ò<ó

Sometimes I would open an event where a “Love DLC” happen where you can romance the characters that or have Riddle do it or any other characters you ship but keep in mind that some would not be answered if I find them inappropriate!

This blog is like a side blog for me and idk if I would be that much active in it but I would try my best!

I am not the best writers so if I wrote down some stuff they may not be that good so forgive me!

[deans-baby-momma]

Law & Love Chapter 25/Epilogue

A/N: This is it. The end. I had fun writing this one and enjoyed all your feedback.......but, to be quite honest, I am actually scared of it now. Please don't hate me. This is the ending I had in mind from the beginning.

And without further ado

The first thing I notice when I come to is the steady beeping and the swish-swish whoosh of air. 

I take inventory of myself before I even open my eyes. My torso is sore but it's nothing compared to the pain in my left shoulder and down my arm. 

How rough did Beau fuck me?! Did I tense so hard that my whole body spasmed into shock? What happened to me? Why am I so achy, like I've been run over.

Damn, that must have been some great sex! What I remember of it, I know it was and I wonder how Beau is faring.

I slowly open my eyes and immediately squint as a brightness blinds me. What the fuck?! 

I try again, this time being able to bear the light as I realize I am not where I should be. The room is too drab, the air too clean, the bed too rigid.  

I lift my head and look down at myself, becoming more perplexed as I notice I'm covered from my chest to my toes in a thin blanket, there are wires that disappear under the fabric that lead to machines attached to stands beside the bed. 

My arms are stiff, laying beside me and there are needles and lines connected to them. I look to the right and see a closed door with a small sink hanging on the wall next to it.

As I try to figure out what the hell is going on, another door- on the opposite wall - opens and a man walks in, holding a clipboard.

"What do you mean I've been out for almost 2 weeks?" I ask the man in front of me. He's wearing a long white coat so I assume he's a doctor. 

"Ahem. Ms. Y/L/N, you were unconscious for 13 days following the accident." He opens his mouth to continue but I cut him off.

"Accident? What accident? No," I shake my head. "I was just having the best orgasm of my life and…..and….and…."

I can't stop the tears that begin pouring down my cheeks. "I was with-" This time I'm the one interrupted, the door opening quickly and Beau stepping in. "Beau!"

He walks to my side, a smile on his face but stays a respectable distance from me. I want to reach out and pull him to me; to feel his arms around me, holding me close but he is too far away. I am completely confused but relieved he is here.

"Chief Arlen, I was just explaining to Ms. Y/L/N her condition and the cause of it. But it seems to have put her into a frenzy."

"I'll do it, " Beau says as he turns toward the doctor. "It is official police business after all, Doc."

The doctor nods, writes something on the clipboard and then pockets his pen. "If you need me, just have the nurse page me. I'll come check on you during evening rounds otherwise."

I watch as the doctor leaves and then turn toward Beau.

"What the hell is going on, Beau?!"

"What do you remember, sweetheart?"

I listen with astonishment as Beau explains how I've ended up in the hospital. He had pulled a chair to the side of my hospital bed and sat down.

"After the judge found your assailants guilty and recommended their jail sentence, you left the courtroom feeling justified. You turned to us - Cassie, Jenny and I - and smiled the first real smile I'd seen on your face in days, weeks even. You said you were finally free and you were going to treat us all to a drink at MacAlley's. We agreed and walked out of the courthouse. You practically skipped down the steps. 

"It all happened so fast," he continues and looks down at his feet. "If I had just been a foot closer, I could've pulled you back; pulled you away from getting hurt."

I look at him, his head down with his elbows on his knees. He is feeling guilty that I was injured but it wasn't his fault.

"Beau, it isn't your fault."

Beau takes a deep breath and looks up before exhaling. "You don't know that. Y/N it was Buck Barnes behind the wheel. He was trying to divert my attention from the investigation into him and Sunny."

"What?" I ask, perplexed. "What investigation?"

"Sunny and Buck Barnes were covering up for Sunny's eldest son Walter. He's the man in the woods that's been kidnapping and murdering all those hikers and campers. We were closing in on the truth and Mr. Barnes tried to prevent me from finding out. So yea Sweetheart, it is my fault. It's all my fault. I'm so sorry."

"Wait, so I've been in a coma since the hearing?" I have so many questions bouncing around in my head now.  “Uh….” I don't even know how to word the questions I want to ask.

Beau nods as he sits up in the chair and sighs. “We’ve all been keeping an eye on you. Jenny, Cassie, even Denise have come by and visited and sat with you during the day when they can get away from work. I have spent the last 13 nights right here in this chair.”

I look at him bewildered. If I got knocked out right after the hearing, that means he never went back to Austin with Carla, I didn’t hook up with Cordell. Hell, I didn't even take a trip to Texas! And he has stayed in the hospital with me every night?! We haven’t even officially been on a date yet. We were just getting up to that point when the hearing happened.

“So,” I begin, trying to get the words to make sense. “You’ve been here every night? Just watching me sleep?”

Beau smiles and leans up to take my hand. “And praying to whatever deity I could think of to bring you back to me.”

His words warm my heart and I smile at him. He is such a sweet man.  I am lucky that he is mine. But wait, is he mine?

“Beau, I know we had been living together before the hearing out of my safety but….” I trail off as I look away from him, trying to get the courage to ask what I need to ask. “Are we more? You spent 13 nights in that god awful chair waiting for me to wake up; praying that I did. That couldn’t have been comfortable.”

Beau chuckles as he leans forward and kisses the top of my hand, being wary of the IV there. “We were going on our first official date last weekend, after the trial.”

“Oh. So I guess I dreamed that you went back to Austin with your ex-wife and daughter?”

“Honey, I haven’t left the city limits since your accident.”

“Wow. Now I feel really bad,” I say sheepishly.

“Why?” Beau cocks his head to the side. 

“While I was sleeping, I dreamed of another man. Someone I met after you left. I’m sorry.”

Beau laughs, low. “We can’t control what our mind brews up. It wasn’t real.”

I couldn’t help but ask. “Do you…..know any Texas Rangers?”

Beau confirms that he has worked with a few of them in the past on cases that came into his jurisdiction and when I mention the name Cordell Walker, he gets a weird look on his face.

“Don’t believe I know that one, sugar.”

“He was who I met. He, um, came looking for you and one thing led to another,” I explain.

Beau smiles and chuckles. “It was only a dream darlin’. Ain’t nobody coming for me, Texas Ranger or not.”

After being released from the hospital two days later, Beau takes me home. To his new home, a house on the outskirts of town with a front porch that has room enough for a porch swing. He explains that the trailer had only been temporary. 

Beau spends the next few days making sure I’m healing and getting enough rest. Almost to the point that I want to yell at him but I know he is only doing it to show me he cares. So I keep my lips sealed and bask in the sentiment.

Beau Arlen is a good man and a good friend. But will he ever be more?

TO BE CONTINUED……..MAYBE 

@spnbaby-67 @sea040561 @delightfullykrispypeach @larajadeschmidt13 @atc74 @vicariouslythruspn @squirrelnotsam  @sandlee44 @blacktithe7 @hoboal87 @mogaruke @supraveng @akshi8278 @lyarr24 @kazsrm67 @chriszgirl92 @deanwithscissors @raisinggray @fanfic-n-tabulous @hobby27 @stoneyggirl2 @purpleeclipseeggsland @kmc1989 @deans-spinster-witch @yvonneeeeeeeee @tmb510 @globetrotter28 @leigh70

[that-darn-clown]

alright, time to ramble about Cassidy again because i just remembered that one video Matpat did about Frontal Lobe Damage and how it would make the Crying Child having nightmares basically impossible, but considering that the video was made back when people were debating when That bite took place (he called it the Bite of '87), and that i consider what happened in both incidents Wildly different (Jeremy had sharp animatronic teeth Directly enter his skull and brain, thus doing more damage, whereas Cassidy had some Weird As Fuck blunt force trauma and a cracked skull, giving him some more Mild(ish) brain damage and a concussion), you now get to have an Interesting case study into "Reason Why No One But William Took Cassidy's Sudden Knowledge Of The MCI Seriously"

so. here were the symptoms Cassidy showed post-Bite:

brain got mildly squished; nothing that probably wouldn't heal in time, maybe several months to over a year.

no real memory problems; tracks with what i've heard of "milder" frontal lobe injuries.

personality shifts; less anxiety and seems more...pissed off? volatile? would technically make sense; see Phineas Gage (personality changed wildly post-injury, but apparently went back to normal eventually? from what i remember), so it would be believed that, as Cassidy healed, he would "go back to normal eventually."

not many nightmares (while he was still alive); still tracks, apparently. he welcomed it; he hasn't been able to sleep well since he was a toddler. this is fucking wonderful for him.

impulsiveness (shown through him "out of nowhere" talking about Charlie + the MCI when he wouldn't so much as mention them without crying pre-Bite): still tracks. hey, the kid's seven, and he just got a brain injury. even if he's being a bit blunt...why get mad at him for talking about his missing/dead friends? especially since he seemed to talk to them in a "coma dream"?

then just your ordinary concussion symptoms (keep him away from bright lights/screens as much as possible, make sure he rests often, etc).

also keep in mind; The Doctor Likely Would've Warned The Family About This To Give Them A Heads-Up.

so yeah. notice how i said "coma dream" in quotes? Yeah, No, Cassidy Actually Kinda Talked To His Dead Friends While In A Coma.

Cassidy's Odd Behavior Was Chalked Up To His Brain Injuries, But Only William Took Cass' More Hostile Behavior Towards Him, And His References To William's Victims, More Seriously.

Wow I actually love this take. Especially Cass finally getting a respite from nightmares since he was young, that's a really neat detail. William being the only one to take him seriously because he knows it's not a side effect of the head trauma... holy shiz

[benoitblanc]

hey arwen, long time no see!! hope you're doing well! 💜

i know nothing about txf besides what i've gleaned from this hellsite which is a) mulder is a lovable idiot, b) scully both loves him (almost against her will??), and c) they literally invented shipping BUT tell me about your top 5 txf episodes!!!

hi mitali i have been EXTREMELY patchy on here lately haven't i lol. local woman appears on tumblr to write ten meta posts about the x files and then disappears again! i'm doing okay; my real life has been kind of chaotic (had to last-minute cancel a trip i have been desperate to go on for years so :/ but! on the bright side it means i get to see my flatmates sooner than i thought and i miss them even though i've been gone from my flat for like a week and a half lol). how have you been???

those are very accurate txf vibes but i will say that scully is a very active and willing participant in being in love with mulder even though he can be very very stupid at times lol. i hope you watch it someday- i think it would be right up your alley! kind of similar doctor who ecological niche of being weird, heartfelt, politically relevant sci-fi with no consistent quality or tone.

ANYWAY. top 5 txf episodes, bearing in mind that i've technically only watched up until the end of the fourth season so far; i'm just a ho for spoilers:

pusher (3.17)... what can i say about pusher that i haven't said already. a lot, probably, because every single day i log on here and i see someone's written new meta about pusher that makes the entire show make more sense. it's just... it's txf distilled to its barest elements. it's about trust and codependency and a supernatural force that is made all the more unsettling by the fact that at its core it is just some guy. it's funny and terrifying and heartfelt all at once. the russian roulette scene changed television

clyde bruckman's final repose (3.04) is also just so txf. darin morgan (the writer) tended to write episodes that were so absurdist they wrapped back around to satirical, but this is far and away my favorite of his because it's not too bonkers. i love coprophages and from outer space especially, but clyde bruckman is a little more grounded, and it manages to be sarcastic and sincere in equal measure. and i love when scully gets to solve the mystery

irresistible (2.13), which is famous for being pretty much the only txf episode where there isn't actually an x-file. and it's SO fucked up. it is hands-down the most fucked up episode of the entire sh- well. besides the episode that they banned from reruns for like a decade for being so fucked up, it's hands-down the most fucked up episode of the entire show

beyond the sea (1.13) and paper hearts (4.10) are thematic sisters so i'm keeping them together. they're both about choosing to move past grief instead of wallowing in it and choosing the future over the past. so what if a criminal says they can give you the answers you've spent your whole life chasing? what matters is that you're at your partner's hospital bedside when he wakes up from an injury, or that you save a little girl's life

right now? probably ice (1.08), because i just rewatched it with my flatmate (who is going through s1 for the first time and is almost as obsessed as i am). it's like if midnight doctor who and the thing had a baby. normally i think this slot would go to duane barry/ascension/one breath (2.05/2.06/2.08) or nisei/731 (3.09/3.10), which are the tightest, tensest episodes relating to the show's overarching mythology

honorable mention goes to elegy (4.22) because the a-plot is a very 90s depiction of neurodivergence and it's not the best-handled thing i've ever seen, but the character showcase of scully in the b-plot gave me fucking brain worms. i cannot stop thinking about it. it's haunting.

also, memento mori (4.14). vince gilligan and gillian anderson you're splitting my therapy bill

ask my top 5/10 anything!!!