#point that death ray at me all you want doctor

[lysatoru]

I’ll never smile again - Frank Sinatra

a little angst, reader is a neurosurgeon, neutral pronouns, ""friendship"", geto’s death is mentionned, cuss words, mention of death, mention of medical treatment, mention of graveyard

gojo satoru x reader

"time of death 10:34pm"

the monitor beeps. The noise is continuous and getting heavier and heavier to bear. You put down your scalpel, raise your hands and step away from the body. You look around, at a few people in the observatory, friends and journalists who’ve come to watch the first surgery about your experiment on a certain type of tumor, a new surgical approach to removing that tumor. A rather invasive approach indeed, but one that worked in clinical trials.

The intern begins to close the patient's skull. Drops of sweat begin to drip from your forehead, your vision starts to deteriorate more and more, you've got to get out of there. "I killed him, I killed him" goes round and round in your head. You smile slightly at the journalists in the observatory, including your best friend, your friends and Gojo. "I'm sorry, I have to go" you inform the other surgeons and doctors in the OR.

You leave the room quickly. Your best friend has seen the distress in your eyes, she knows you, she knows what you're like. "That's not a good sign" she murmurs before rubbing her face with both hands. Gojo looks at your best friend blankly and gets up, leaving the observatory. "Where are you going?" she asks Gojo "I won't be long" he replies.

You take off your coat, gloves and cap, throw the coat and gloves in the trash and your cap on the floor. You're trembling, suffocating, everyone was counting on you and you failed, you killed him. You needed air, you knew the journalists would be here as soon as possible. You walk into the x-ray room. You see them, the scans of your late patient, "what the hell happened?" you look at them over and over again. You go in circles in the room, biting your lip and rubbing your eyes. You rip the scans off the wall and throw them on the floor, "fuck!". Tears start to roll down your cheeks, unintentionally.

"Are you all right?" you hear a voice coming from behind you, you knew exactly who it was. Gojo slowly closes the door behind him and moves closer, "Everything's fine, everything's fine".

"Everything's fine?! Do you really think everything's fine?! Are you kidding me?!" you reply.

"Shh, it's not your fault you know" he tries to stay calm.

"Who operated on him? Who opened his skull? Who performed an invasive surgical method on him? It’s me!" you lose all control, gojo is not your enemy in this situation, quite the opposite. You move closer to him, pointing at yourself, tears flowing, your voice starting to break little by little

"You need to calm down, it was experimental and you know it" gojo puts his hands on your shoulders

"Do not touch me!" you reply, backing away violently.

He sighs and raises an eyebrow, leans back against a wall, crosses his arms and legs, "I'm not going to teach you your job, but death is part of your job. there are things you can't foresee".

"He was 15! He was 15 and he had a tumor since 13! He died at 15 because of me! It’s not fair!" you say crying your heart out . "Death was almost inevitable, you know that" he replies calmly.

"And what do you know about death? how often do you come into contact with it?" you approach him.

"What do you mean?" he approaches you too, clenches his jaw, the tension begins to build between you. "Don’t start with those things it won’t get us anywhere" he sighs once again. He didn't want to get upset because you'd just lost a patient who was very important to you, but he soon realized that the subject could take a rather dramatic turn.

"You dare lecture me about death and inevitability when you literally killed your best friend?"

— silence.

Gojo straightens up, uncrosses his arms and looks at you, raising his eyebrows, again "What did you say?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-" you’ve gone too far.

"Do you really think I wanted this? That I wanted all this?" he approaches you again, his eyes wide.

"I know I didn't, I'm sorry-" you slowly back away

"Do you really think that your job as a neurosurgeon, which you chose, and my job, which was imposed on me, are the same? Do you really think that I don't deal with death? You don't kill patients, you fail to save them, it's not the same. I kill people on purpose, that's the difference between us. — the more he talks, the closer he gets to you, you find yourself leaning against a wall involuntarily. You raise your head more and more to look at him because he's so tall — I have no choice but to do this job, you do. I kill those around me for ungrateful people like you"

"Satoru, please wait-" you start following him

The door slams and you find yourself alone in the scan room, you'd just pissed off the only person who'd come to support you after your defeat, Gojo considered you a true friend so much so that he confided about his friendship with Geto and how much he was suffering today, from his death. You knew that your patient's death and Geto's were incomparable, and yet you compared them. Why were you so stupid?

You start to follow gojo through the corridors but the journalists start to come between you "I'm sorry I have to-", "Did you make a mistake?", "why did he die?", "He was only 15, how do you feel?" fucking journalists. You see Gojo disappear in the hallway.

When you get home, you try to call Gojo, but he doesn't answer. You try to send him messages, but he doesn’t reply.

11:57pm

i’m sorry Satoru i know i fucked up

12:03pm

please, can we talk?

12:32pm

i think i know where you are, i’m coming

You get in your car and head down to the graveyard. A few minutes later you arrive in front of his grave and there he was, crouching, wearing his mask as usual, you've always wondered if it was also a way of hiding his emotions, the eyes speak, but his, what do they say ?

"Hi, you didn’t reply to my texts i was scared" you say softly. He doesn’t say anything. "I’m sorry you know i didn’t mean that" — "Why did you come ?" he say not looking at you but still looking at the grave. "I was worried". He laughs ironically "really ? you really are the last person i wanted to see here."

You decide to approach him a little. "I wanted to make sure you were fine" — "And I am, you can leave now"

You don’t know what to say anymore, it was all your fault anyway. "Satoru I-" — "leave" he looks at you and you decide to leave.

You know he’ll never smile the same again without Geto near him.

hi, first post since almost nine months *tries not to panick*. I don’t know how to feel about this, i think i lost the way i was writing before ? i don’t know. I have a feeling this is botch :( I wanted to try something new but anyway.

even though i’m not a big fan of this work, i’m really happy to writing again^^

if you think i use deepl for this one you’re right 😜👍🏻

[ask-sister-solaris]

Can I request a short fic of Egon Spengler x Fem reader who is also a doctor but works at a hospital as a surgeon or something similar. She could go to the ghostbusters reporting a patient that she got close with prior to their death had become attached to her and stays in her apartment, but this is extremely bothersome and uncomfortable for (reader). Egon could be fascinated by her intellect and he doesn’t want to lose contact with her after their work is done.

Oh hoho ofc you can!

“Call me?”

You were a doctor and the long hours and needy patients truly did test your patience sometimes. You took comfort in the fact you could get home and collapse while listening to your records and read Tolbins Spirit Guide.

Recently you had a patient you were close with pass away. At the time you didn’t realize his spirit had connected itself to you. There was no signs of any attachment. That night you were home alone when you heard noises in the kitchen. You opened your head in but nothing was wrong,you conclude you’re just tired and head to bed.

But even then you feel like someone slips under the covers with you. You eventually fall asleep, and when you wake up your apartment is a complete mess. Confusion crosses your mind until you find ectoplasmic residue on your kitchen counters. A quick flip through Tolbins tells you it’s a spirit that’s moved on, just by the colour of said residue.

Course you just assume that it’s a one off. That was until it became a daily thing. You felt uncomfortable showering, or even changing in your own bathroom or bedroom. You felt constantly watched, unless you were at work. And it went on for about two months before you caved and called them. The Ghostbusters. It was an interesting call to say the least, a deadpan secretary who was not helpful whatsoever, saying she should have called sooner and the ghostbusters would be there soon.

Back at the firehouse Janine pressed the alarm button, and as Ray rushed by she passed him the paper with the address on. 55 Central West. Again? The Shandor Building kept popping up in most of their ventures out. Ray didn’t say anything and hopped into the Ecto 1 with Egon. They didn’t need the whole team to investigate something that sounded so small.

You were pacing your living room when a knock at the door startled you. You calmed yourself before you opened the door and let them in.

“Thank you for coming. And not thinking I’m crazy.”

Ray nodded and gave a comforting smile as he looked around. You left them to it and sat in the living room, tired from all the activity this ghost seemed to cause. Egon followed suit and sat with you, he could see the mental effects said apparition was giving you, he pulled out his PKE meter and its little antennae shot up. It was pointed directly at you, and you were still in your nurses uniform.

“I think I found the object it’s anchored to..we will have to draw it out, You don’t mind taking it off do you?”

You shook your head and took your white coat off, throwing it to him. The beeping lowered when the device was pointed to you, so it was your doctors jacket! Now the pieces were falling together

“I think I know what’s going on. I had a patient die a few months ago, he was very attached to me. I think it’s his spirit that’s attached to that coat”

If there was one thing Egon wasn’t expecting was you to know how paranormal things worked or how they happened..and yet…you did? Egon hummed and motioned for her to stand clear of the coat as he and Ray blasted it. A bluey blobby apparition shot out and Ray managed to contain it as Egon rolled out the trap. An easy job for today..but even as you paid them for their service Egon couldn’t stop thinking about how smart you were, and how easy you read people like a book.

“Are you okay Dr Spengler? You looked lost in thought”

Egon looked at you and hummed before pulling something out of his pocket. It had his personal number on it, or that’s what you assumed…it certainly wasn’t the ghostbuster headquarters number. You looked back up at him and he had a little dumb grin on his face

“Call me?”

[akimoroll]

giving in to the love.

chapter 4. this could be a dream.

chapters: 1 — 2 — 3

nagumo yoichi (sakamoto days) x afab!reader—wc 6.8k—alternate universe—read on ao3

cw—mentions of abuse and death. alcoholism. smoking. fluff. angst. aged up characters with highschool flashbacks. eventual smut. pwp. pwf. please MDNI!

But if I touch you, would you feel it there?

Could I trust love even if I'm scared?

Oh, I wish I could give like I'm longing to give

Oh, I wish I could live like I'm longing to live

And I lift myself and I close my eyes

And I sing sometimes to know I'm alive

I know I should figure this out on my own

But if you come by, could you take me home?

You found yourself slowly waking up in an unfamiliar space, with the sun still low partially filtering through the white curtains. As you lazily roamed areas your eyes could reach, you become aware of the scent of faint chlorine and fresh laundered fabric filling the air of the bleak looking room you’re in. Overwhelmed by grogginess and aching throughout your whole body, you drifted back to sleep.

Gradually, the soft rays of sunshine became harsher and crept through the gap in the curtains, waking you once more. You fluttered your eyes open and winced both at the brightness and the pounding in your head. As you forced yourself to sit up, you could feel the discomfort of the situation. Your mind slowly pieced together what had transpired—

Where’s Rion?

And the car?

Mom’s going to be so mad.

What happened?

Did we get hit?

Where is—

A nurse entered the room, interrupting your thoughts. Upon seeing you awake, they called for the doctor. They described what took place and how fortunate you were to miraculously sustain only minor injuries. When you asked them about Rion, they didn’t disclose detailed information, but they did tell you that she had already passed away.

What? No way.

No.

“I think you made a mistake. Can you please check her name again?”

“I’m completely fine so she’s also okay, right?”

“I think you got it all wrong. Can I please go see her?”

While they provided nothing but empathy and understanding regarding your circumstances, your mom was an exception. It’s as if she cared more about the car and all the expenses in between.

After being discharged from the hospital, you made the decision not to return to school. With the weight of guilt and self-blame, attending school seemed unbearable. Your mother had already blamed you for the accident, so what was the point? You were sure that everyone in school thought the same thing too.

But not Aoi. She went over to your house and didn’t tag anyone along for fear of making you uncomfortable.

Ms. Satoda kept calling your mom but she never answered them.

It was an accident, it wasn’t your fault. Don’t listen to them.

You’re gonna be fine. Just try coming to school tomorrow.

And so you did but you were back to your old ways. Your everyday life became monotonous once again—wake up, school, home, sleep, repeat.

Yet on Valentines day, a surprise shook you from your routine.

“What’s this?” You confronted Nagumo in the empty basketball gym with a chocolate heart box in your hand and a note saying he’d wait for you after class.

“Chocolates?” He answered in a quizzical voice.

You found it in your locker before heading home. He hasn’t talked to you since the accident—not that you wanted him either—and you thought: Is this some kind of sick joke?

You let out an empty chuckle, “I know what it is. Why?”

He didn’t know how to approach you after what happened. He was aware of it being a delicate matter and was scared to push you away if he said or did the wrong thing. He hoped to talk to you and thought it would be nice to do it on the said day. And oh boy, was he wrong.

Apologetic, he said, “For valentines. I was hoping to talk to—”

“Valentines? Are you serious?” You interrupted him, “Can you stop it already?”

His eyebrows furrowed, “I’m sorry, I just thought—”

“You thought what? That everything’s gonna be okay with just chocolate?” You retorted, raising an eyebrow.

He sighed, “That’s not what that is—”

“Then what, Nagumo? What do you want?”

“I don’t want anything. Just-” sighing, he clenched his jaw, “I’m worried, you know I care about you.”

“Oh, stop it, will you? You’re supposed to hate me!” You raised your voice.

Pinching his lips together, “I can’t do that.”

“What do you mean you can’t? Rion died because of me! Are you stupid?!” You hissed.

“That’s not true. It was an accident.” He hissed back.

You scoffed, “You know nothing!”

He raised both his hands, “Alright fine, maybe I don’t know anything!” In a pleading tone, he said, “But can’t you just let me be here for you? I lost her too!”

And it feels like you’re next—is what he couldn’t say.

As hurt and guilt consumed you, your voice quieted, “All the more reason for you to leave me alone.”

He closed his eyes in regret, he stepped closer, “Listen, I’m sorry…” but you backed away.

“No,” you shake your head, averting his gaze, “you should stay away from me. It’s for the best.”

His shoulders slumped and it’s as if you took his heart with you as he watched your retreating figure grow farther and farther away until you were out of sight.

┊┊┊

Nagumo takes you to his place. You were hesitant at first but he said he’s home alone for a week, and you thought having company isn’t so bad so you went along. You reflect on the irony of the situation and couldn't help but find it funny. Here you were, sitting next to each other, burying your faces in bowls of spicy instant ramen—his attempt to make you feel better and it worked because it’s the best you’ve had in a while, sharing it with someone deeply familiar, feeling a sense of belonging, even if it was only temporary.

“This is so good, I’ve never tried this brand before,” you say with a mouthful of noodles.

He nods, grinning as he slurps his bowl clean, clearly enjoying it as much as you. He leans back on his chair, pushing back his bangs off his sweaty forehead.

Completely unaware of his gaze, you continue to eat with yours half full. As you raise the chopsticks to your lips, a few strands of your hair fall and almost dipped into the bowl. He leans forward after noticing it, his hand gently tucking the hair behind your ear. You paused and glanced at him as the moment hung in the air.

Clearing his throat, “Your hair was…do you want to watch a movie after this?” He blurts out, not knowing what to say exactly.

You open your mouth and close it again, squinting, “It’s 2 AM, aren’t you sleepy?”

He ponders, humming, “Not really. So, yes?”

“Do you really want me to pass out on your couch?” You joked and proceeded to finish your noodles.

He chuckles as he continues to watch you, itching to play with hair. He could smell you every time you moved, wondering if it’s your shampoo or perfume, taking him back to when he sat beside you at the pub and when he kissed the top of your hair back in his car.

Curious, he asks, “Are you wearing perfume?”

You look over your shoulder, pausing to think, “I am,” telling him exactly what it is, feeling good that he noticed, “Why?”

He nods as he makes a mental note. You smell edible, is what he wanted to say. He internally shakes his head, “It suits you.”

Your cheeks start heating up, you look away, “It’s my first time wearing it,” you go back to finishing your food.

He couldn’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction after learning you were wearing it for the first time—a silent claim, as if it’s a hidden part of you revealed to him alone.

You lean back on the chair as you glance at him with a satisfied smile, “Thanks for the meal.”

He catches a whiff again, unintentionally wetting his lips. He looks at you and then down to your lips, he taunts, “Your lips are puffy.”

With a lighthearted chuckle, you retort, “Yours too.”

He didn’t answer as he locked eyes with you and in that brief moment he had an inexplicable urge to be closer to you. He looks away, humming in response as he leans forward with his elbows on the table with eyes far away, rubbing his lips with his fingers.

You watch him. He hasn’t changed at all—he’s still a bit annoying with his constant boyish smile. Your eyes trail from his flowy hair to his nape, down to his strong looking shoulders and his evident toned back despite the thick fabric of his sweater. Well, maybe a little. He still slouches though. You smile inwardly.

“I should get going,” you say softly while still looking at him.

He turns to face you, resting his cheek on his palm, “Already?”

“I wouldn’t want to overstay my welcome.”

You would've stayed if it was solely up to you, but he has grown increasingly silent. Maybe he’s tired?

“Do you want me to drive you?”

“I’ll just hail a cab,” you reassure him.

He doesn’t answer and instead gives you a wistful smile while his fingertips tap on the table. After a long pause, he stands and saunters through the living room to fetch your bag and your coat next to his on the couch.

You trail after him to the foyer, suddenly feeling the urge to ask him what’s wrong, “It was nice seeing you,” you managed to say instead.

He looks over his shoulder before turning around to face you fully, answering you with a mere nod as he stands by the door.

You swallow, he’s still so quiet, “Did I say something wrong?”

He chuckles, his eyes glossy, “No, you’re fine.” he shakes his head a little. Swallowing the lump in his throat, “It was nice seeing you too,” he continued.

The silence feels awkward and uncomfortable as you stand motionless, as if unsure of what to do next. You know you should be putting on your shoes and leaving, but your mind is elsewhere.

Your thoughts race as you desperately try to recall if there was something you said that might have hurt him. The thought of parting ways with him again on a negative note gnaws at you.

There’s a lump in your throat all of sudden.

When I pass through this door, I’ll never see him again.

Closure? Are you stupid?

I already apologized.

Him being married is closure enough.

I’m the only one stuck in the past.

Don’t say it. Don’t say it!

“Are you okay?” He asks, snatching you away from your thoughts.

Your eyes shot up to his face with concern written all over it. You swallow and blurted out, “I missed you.”

He solemnly smiles at you, “Hey,” shaking his head slightly before speaking, “You know you shouldn’t say stuff like that to me.”

Why am I like this? Embarrassed, you stammer as you avoid his gaze, “No, you’re right. Sorry, I was just-”

He exhaled deeply before speaking again, “Took you long enough.”

Dumbfounded, you glance up to him: Huh?

His gaze softens, “I missed you too,” he exhaled while looking up before he settled his eyes on you, “You still wanna go?”

His question lingered in the air, the weight of its implications hanging heavily between you.

“Yes,” you utter quietly.

He nods with a tight lipped smile. As his hand reaches for your shoes from the shoe rack, you continue, “…with you.”

He stops in his tracks, slowly turning to face you. His heart pounds in his chest as he begins to comprehend the meaning behind your words. As his eyes locked onto yours, he saw a subtle plea painted on your face.

Those two simple words from you were enough to make him rush towards you. He drops all your belongings to the floor, dismissing all boundaries that had once separated the two of you.

You froze with your eyes wide open but you didn't pull away this time. Instead, you open up to him, letting go of all restraints and fears. You closed your eyes and parted your lips willingly as he poured himself to you.

As your hands extend towards him, you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. He leans down and encircles his arms around your waist, lifting you off the floor as he kisses you tenderly, leaving you breathless.

He guides you across the hall to his bedroom with your feet lightly shuffling backwards. His lips remain attached to yours, holding you tightly against him, almost as if he’s afraid to let you go, terrified of the thought of losing you once again. To finally be able to hold you—to taste you—is the feeling that he’s longed for.

Your gasp echoes in the room as your back meets the softness of his bed, your hair splaying across the sheets. His mind goes into a haze as he looks at you, the feeling of longing overwhelming him.

He drinks the sight of you—breathless, on his bed, waiting and only for him. You feel vulnerable under his gaze, a look you’ve never seen from him before. Your lips were glistening from his doing. He wants more, every single part of you. Everything.

Desire starts pooling inside you as he takes off his sweater. Tattoos that were once hidden now come to surface. It takes you back to earlier that evening when you saw the ones on his neck and fingers, wondering if there were more.

As the soft light filters through his windows, you allow your eyes to wander the details on his body, his chest heaving, the contours of his toned muscles and the veins snaking around his forearms. He’s gorgeous and it’s making your head spin.

He hovers over you as he kisses you, all lips and tongue, and oh so slow as his touch becomes desperate, hands claiming everything he could reach. All mine, he thought.

He takes his sweet time savoring you as if the world outside the room you’re in doesn’t exist, like nothing else matters. Only the gentle sounds of your kissing and fabric rustling filled his dimly lit room, and only you on his mind.

Your fingers trace along the muscles of his back, making his hairs raise. He moans into your mouth as his senses heightened, he wants more of your touch, more of you.

He puts his hands gently at the back of your head and around your waist as his strong arms effortlessly lifts you further up the bed.

He halts the kiss, his absence intensified your craving for him. You miss him already.

His fingers find the hem of your sweater and with a subtle motion, you shift, allowing him to slip your sweater over your head. He tosses it to the side, he feels his knees getting weak with you all soft and exposed with just your lacey bra beneath him, “You’re an angel,” he breathes.

Feeling shy, you covered your face with a pillow, “Stop it,” your voice soft and quiet.

He smiles and takes the pillow from your grasp, his fingers brushing against your own. It’s true, you’re perfect, he whispered before claiming your lips once more.

He places gentle kisses all over your face, making you giggle. He loved the sound so much that he starts nipping at your earlobes to hear more, he laughs with you. He trails wet kisses from your jaw to your neck as he catches a whiff of your perfume—inhaling and sighing against your skin.

You shudder under his touch as his large hands worked quickly to unhook your bra, setting your tits free. He buries his face against your chest with careful hands caressing them. His tongue skimming past your hardened nipples as he savors every needy whimper from you. Your whole body is tingling, you arch your back from anticipation. You’re dying for more and he knows.

He smirks against your flushed skin as you grab a fistful of his hair. Always so impatient, he teases while looking at you. A pathetic whine is all you could manage as his mouth finally closed around your nipples, suckling and swirling his tongue around it as if he wanted to swallow you entirely.

You shudder as he groans onto your tits, making you squeeze your legs together. You’re so sensitive, you writhed with every little thing his tongue does to you. He bites and flicks his tongue over it, making you gasp as heat builds up inside you.

You knot your hands to his hair, pulling him into a sloppy, desperate kiss, begging breathily: Yoichi, please.

I know—he whispers in between kisses—I’ll take care of you.

Hearing the aching in your voice, he pulls away, his trembling hands reaching for your pants, peeling it off with ease.

Your mind lifts as he runs his hand slowly over the lace of your panties. His fingers brushing over your clothed clit as his mouth circles around your nipples once again, you shudder.

His breath fans against the skin of your chest, hot and shaky. He hooks his fingers over the damp cloth of your panties, pulling it to the side. He’s so slow about it, making you moan—hurry.

His heart hammers in his chest, murmuring and hushing you, I’m here.

And then finally—his fingers brush between your folds, so warm, so wet just for him.

He presses his fingers onto your swollen clit as you buck your hips while your hands grip onto his forearm, begging him to move.

And move is what he does—fingers brushing and pressing all over your wet pussy, turning you into a whining mess.

His hand leaves you as he puts his fingers inside his mouth—licking and sucking your wetness—just to bring it back between your thighs, smearing his spit all over your cunt.

Dark brown half lidded eyes watching you intently as he slowly inserts one—your mouth drops open. He stretches you, with his finger for the first time. Slowly sinking deeper and deeper. You clench around him as he pushes it all the way inside.

I can’t wait to fuck you, he murmur, his thumb pressing circles over your clit. He curls his finger inside you, hitting the right spots, eliciting sweet sounds from you.

And then he adds another, your legs start to tense.

Fuck—is all you could whimper.

Soon, he smirks before claiming your lips. His kisses become sloppy as it trailed down to your chest, his lips all over you—moaning against your skin—as his desire grows more for you.

The knot in your lower abdomen tightens as wet sounds from your pussy and your labored breathing fills his quiet room. Your fingers cards through his hair as his digits curl, pushing in and out of your dripping wet cunt, making a mess on his bedsheets.

…feels so good. So good.

Your voice is so sweet, telling him you’re so close to cumming, making his already hard cock pulse in his pants.

He’s so good with his hands, you could feel yourself trembling, clamping on his fingers inside of you. He watches you intently, anticipating for you to unravel for him but you pull him into a desperate kiss as you feel the tension snap. He moans with you as he finger fucks you through your orgasm, pleasure rolling all over you.

He makes you cum for the first time and he’s barely even done anything. He keeps his eyes on you as yours flutters while he bites lightly at your lower lip, continuously gasping into his mouth.

He places soft kisses on your forehead as your body starts to calm down, cooing, you’re lovely, and other sweet nothings. He pulls his coated fingers out from you, making you gasp and clench around nothing. He licks and sucks on it, tasting your juices as he lays beside you. He lets you rest.

You turn your head to meet his gaze. He’s still the same Yoichi; still so patient and always willing to care for you. Your heart swells when he looks back at you with affection. It’s pathetic. Almost comical how you’ve pushed him away, afraid of the implications you might cause if you stay. Just for you to crawl back to him years later, a familiar place, seeking for a different outcome—knowing full well you shouldn’t.

“Let me take care of you too,” you say softly.

You don’t wait for him to answer as you sit up on the bed, reaching for his face. You brush away the hairs sticking on his forehead.

“You don’t have to,” he murmurs with his hand playing with the tips of your hair.

“But I want to,” you whisper, caressing his bulge. You lean forward and kiss him softly.

He let out a sharp breath when you move between his thighs, his eyebrows furrowing to the gentle and suggestive touch over his clothed cock. He struggles to maintain his composure, the sensation causing his body to tense slightly.

Your fingers work the belt free from the loops as his breathing grows heavier. The clink of the buckle hitting the floor echoes through the space. Slowly, teasingly, you lower the zipper, revealing the straining bulge beneath.

His hips twitch involuntarily, seeking more of your touch. Desire washed over you at how desperate he already is, you want to make him feel so good.

Hooking on the waistband, you tug his pants and boxers down in a smooth motion. His erection springs free making your mouth water. He’s big, you swallow.

You wrap your trembling fingers around the base as you slowly stroke his cock, making him shudder from the warmth of your palm. He’s so hard for you.

His eyes—usually so intent and focused—begin fluttering shut, his breathing becomes shallow and you haven’t done anything yet. You spit messily on the tip of his dick. He inhales sharply as you smear it all over, making his abs flex under your palm, rippling every time he breathes.

He’s lost it, mind ascending as you swallow up his cock—slowly, all the way. The tip of your nose hits his pelvis as he twitches inside your throat. You glance up at him as you gag on him balls deep.

As you keep your eyes on him, he drinks the sight of you: Who else…? His brows knit as his mind starts to cloud with jealousy and overwhelming desire. He’s far gone, murmuring your name, slurring curses under his breath. He reaches for your hand that's caressing his abdomen, intertwining it with his.

His whimpers and groans vibrated throughout the room, moaning from the soft, wet flesh of your cheeks and tongue. You pull back all the way, only for you to swallow him whole again, licking all over the tip in between. His dick buried in your mouth, bobbing your head again and again, and again.

He promptly sits up as he pulls you to him, making you gasp. He doesn’t want to cum, not yet. Strong arms guiding you to straddle him as he kisses you with desperation, bringing your bodies closer together. His fingers tugs on the waistband of your panties.

Let me taste you.

He murmured, motioning you to sit on his face. He’s aching to taste you, to make you cum again. You obey as you take off your panties with him helping you. He reaches for your hands as he reclines back on the bed, helping you move up a little.

Your legs tremble as you plant your knees on the mattress, your dripping wet pussy hovering over his face. He nods to you with pleading eyes, asking you to go lower with hands caressing your hips—come here.

You nod as you grip onto the bed’s headboard, lowering yourself to his face. He places sweet wet kisses on the inside of your thighs, making you shudder as you clench to nothing. The heat of your pussy finally touched his lips. You’re so sweet, pretty, and wet from earlier when he fucked you with just his hands.

He knows you’re still sensitive so he glances up to you as he gently licks your slit, teasing you, too light, like kitten licks, a whimper escapes your lips—more—making his dick twitch from the sweetness of your voice. Adamant to make you feel good, he glides his tongue all over your clit adding a little pressure this time, you shudder, your legs trembling.

So wet, he murmurs. He could bathe in your wetness, your pussy dripping for him. You let go as he gestures to you to sit all the way, wanting to drown in your pretty pussy. You whine as you press yourself onto his face.

He repeatedly runs his tongue over your clit as you gradually relax yourself—mewling and bucking your hips while you ride his face. As you get louder and louder, his dick gets harder. He’s making a mess out of you as he sucks on your clit in between flicks of his tongue, your juices dripping down his chin.

He glances up to you, slowly taking your hands from the headboard as he guides you to place them over your tits. He places his hands on top of your own as you begin touching yourself. Every ounce of shame and guilt leaves your body—everything feels so good.

A smile creeps in while he watches you, almost making him cum with the thought of you using him—murmuring how he makes you feel good, how you’re so close.

He stills his tongue out as you move your hips back and forth with his hands sliding down your waist, squeezing the softness of your skin, moaning into your pussy, encouraging you to keep going.

Your whines become needy, grinding on his tongue becomes messy. He aches for it. He wants nothing more than for him to be the reason for your undoing. A couple of more rolls of your hips, a couple flicks of his tongue, the knot in your abdomen finally snap. You shudder, riding his face as you come undone for him, making him rut into nothing.

He grips on your waist to pin you in place. He keeps sucking and licking—he’s drinking you, as if wringing every drop from you while you clench around nothing. You gasp from being oversensitive, your whole body tingling.

He pulls you down, flipping you onto your back, pinning you beneath his larger frame—his kiss so hungry and demanding. You moan into it as you taste yourself on his lips while he’s grinding his dick against your sensitive cunt, you cover him with your wetness. He can’t wait to make you feel even better; to make a mess out of you.

You wrap your arms and legs around him, he’s feverishly hot to the touch. He breaks away from the kiss, his weight suspended over you. You lean into his touch as he palms your cheek, his eyes searching your face, panting: Tell me you want me like I want you.

His voice is throaty, shaky, desperate. Eyes so eager and intense it could pierce right through you. He looks so lovesick that it almost hurts.

I want you, Yoichi.

Please, I need you—you choke on your sob.

He could almost feel himself ascending with the way you’re begging him, the feeling of you wanting him, offering yourself so willingly. He doesn’t want to keep you waiting, he’s dying to be inside you anyway. He pulls away a little, his hand dwarfing your waist, the other holding his dick to tease your entrance with his tip.

His precum mixes with your wetness as you lift your hips—bucking and aching for more of him. He stays like that for a while with his hands spreading your legs wide open.

Look at you, he murmurs. You swear you can almost see the hearts swimming in his eyes with the way he’s looking at you, you could cry. If only, you thought. He’s gonna give it to you, pour himself to you—all of it. All of me, he thinks. He was yours from the start anyway, even though he knows after all this you’re gonna run away like you always do.

You wrap your fingers around his cock, he shudders as you squeeze it, gliding your palms back and forth, hard and throbbing in your hands. He watches you with mouth slightly open, keeping his eyes focused, tracking your hand on him, exhaling, “Fuck—”

“I need you, hurry,” you beg breathlessly.

His brows furrowed as he moves lower, you hold onto his arms as he slides his cock from your clit to your entrance—gathering his precum and your wetness—fucking you through your folds. His breaths become fast and heavy, eyes locked on your pussy wide open for him.

He stops, he’s about to finally do it, and you can feel it. He slaps his length lightly over your swollen clit a couple of times, making you gasp. He pushes it in, slowly, just the tip. You look into each other’s eyes as you moan at the same time. He’s filling you up, stretching your walls. He’s going to make love to you—for the very first time—and you will take it; you will let him.

He shudders, breath shaky and heavy—Fuck, you’re so wet—slurring his words.

You clench on his dick as he pushes in further, he’s so snug inside you, so fucking hard for you. All you could do is whimper and hold onto him as you try accomodating to his size.

God, you feel so good. You’re squeezing me—he says, every word soft and airy—making your toes curl on his soft bed sheets—while he pushes his throbbing length deeper and deeper.

Your mouth drops open as he bottoms out, taking him balls deep. He leans closer to you, claiming your lips—sloppy, messy kisses as he pulls his cocks all the way out and thrusts all the way in, you moan into each other’s mouth.

He fucks you a little harder. So good, you fuck so good, you’re slurring your words. Your moans so sweet making him fuck you a litte faster, his cock throbbing inside you, his bedsheets absorbing the wetness gushing from your cunt.

He slows down, pulling away from the kiss. Look at it, he murmurs as you both watch his cock sinking down your dripping pussy. His brows knit with his mouth open as he watches himself move in and out of you—your wetness coating his entire length, creaming at the base—his groans thick with pleasure: Look how you’re taking me.

His hands meet the back of your knees, folding you, spreading your legs open for him. Your moans turn into sweet sobs of his name as he thrusts into you harder, deeper, with your legs above his shoulders. His breaths thick and heavy fanning over your contorted face.

The flesh of your thighs ripple every time his hips collide into you. His room once so quiet now filled with slapping wet sounds and your whines as he fucks you hard, your head slightly hitting the headboard while his cock hits all the right spots. He leans in for a kiss before resting his forehead on yours, a breathy chuckle escaping his lips.

You breathe out—Why?

He slows down his pace, rolling his hips you can feel him in your belly. He shakes his head and smiles, murmuring before kissing you again—you drive me insane.

Your mind goes numb as he puts his weight on you, folding you further in half. His hands snaked your back and settled on your shoulders, keeping you in place as he thrust himself deeper. You become a teary whining mess, begging for more as he bottoms out. Your walls clench around his cock, drooling all over his sheets. He sinks deeper, burying himself inside you, he’s making sure you’d remember him and you’d feel him for days after you leave.

He lifts you with him as he sits up, bringing you closer to him, he wants nothing more than the warmth of your skin. You wrap your arms and legs around him, slurring—I’m close, Yoichi.

I know, I got you, he coos. His voice is so sweet, so full of affection for you.

You can see his face clearly—mouth agape, breathing heavily with his eyes in a dreamlike state—as you grind down on him. His shuddering, his hands traveling all over your back down to your ass, squeezing, spreading you open as he fucks you deep.

You clench around him as you roll your hips over him again and again, your pussy swallowing him whole, chasing your high as you fuck yourself with his cock, telling him how good he’s fucking you. His eyes struggle to keep his gaze fixed on you as his eyes roll back from pleasure, mumbling curses under his breath.

Possessiveness hazing his mind. His lips meet your skin, placing wet kisses to your neck down to your chest, biting, sucking until it stings—marking what’s his. He’s worshiping you, murmuring your name, telling you how you’re so beautiful and how your pussy takes him so well, desperate to show how much he wants you, that he’s the only one who could make you feel this good.

His hands abruptly grips your waist, making you stop. You can feel him throbbing inside you as he breathes heavily against your skin, “What’s wrong?” You pant, concerned.

He chuckles, swallowing in between heavy breaths, holding you tightly against him, “Fuck, sorry, I just-” he looks up to you, his cheeks flushed, skin glistening, searching your face, “I don’t want this to be over.”

Your expression softens, like everything within you is melting. He’s so pretty, you could cry, “It’s okay,” you whisper, pushing his hair up from his sweaty forehead before cupping his face—a tender kiss, “You can have me again.”

He wasted no time, everything he’s holding back, he lets go. Pushing you back on the bed, he pins your hands above your head, your foreheads meet, sweat mixing. He fucks you deeper—face to face—with his other hand on the small of your back, thrusting you into him.

You exchange heavy, shaky breaths as he moves in and out of you. He could feel your walls fluttering around his cock as you chase your release alongside him, craving for more friction with him inside you.

He gets sloppier, his thrusts, his words, slurring vulgar things to you—voice thick with pleasure. He releases his hand on your wrist to grab the cheeks of your ass, lifting you. He’s thrusting steadily and deeply, burying his cock so far inside you can’t think of anything else but him fucking you.

You clench around him, you’re close—it’s building up. Your pussy drools everytime he plunges inside you, dripping down your ass onto his bed.

I’m so close—he groans, breathy and desperate—I wanna fill you up—he chokes on his gasp—Can I?

Yes, yes, Yoichi, please I want it.

Fuck—he gasps—so fucking good to me.

Your moaning gets louder, arching your back as his thrusts gets messier, fucking you a little faster, you’re about cum: Yoichi, I’m—

The pleasure hits, your walls clenching, squeezing all around his cock. He’s hitting all the right spots making you a whining mess as you ride out your orgasm with your eyes rolling back, your hearing getting dull.

He leans forward to kiss you sloppily, his breaths shaky as he moans into your mouth. His thrusts become messier, I’m cumming—gonna fill you up, yeah? He murmurs against your lips. You’re still clenching around him, milking his cock for cum as you feel the warmth shooting inside you.

He fucks you lazily, cum gushing out of you with every slow thrust. He’s groaning against your neck, his brows knitted and eyes shut as you hold him tightly in an embrace. You feel all sticky and sweaty, and so debauched under him as his dick throb inside you.

He stays inside you for a while, bodies limp as the two of you come down from your high. Both of you so fucked out. Slowly, you become aware of everything around you. It’s quiet with just the sounds of your breathing.

He lifts his head to face you, he plants a soft kiss on your lips before pulling his still hard cock, a glistening white mess. You clench around nothing, his cum dripping out of you with his eyes on your pussy. Fuck—he sighs.

He asks, “Did you mean it?”

“Mean what?”

He peppers your face with kisses, his voice laced with mischief, “That we can go again?”

You chuckle, “Mhm.”

He was relentless. The two of you went on and on and on—you almost regretted saying yes everytime he asked one more. The last thing you could remember was his lips against your forehead as the room began to brighten from the morning sun. He was whispering sweet nothings while he played with your fingers before you eventually passed out.

┊┊┊

Shitshitshit—you whisper. You’re hastily getting dressed while Nagumo remains fast asleep, his back facing you. With a trembling hand, you reach for the doorknob, carefully and quietly opening the door to his bedroom as you prepare to leave.

As you stand still and glance at his sleeping figure over your shoulder, you feel overwhelmed with regret at having to go through this cycle again, wishing for things to have turned out differently. But sometimes life is funny like that.

He looks so peaceful as he sleeps, reminding you of his consistent kindness towards you. Your thoughts turn to the disruption you always bring into his life, making you wince inwardly.

It’s a shame, you were too late.

As you sneak across the hallway and into the living room, you hunt for your belongings. While looking around, you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, your eyes widened in horror at the sight of the numerous love marks he had left on your skin. Thank fucking god for scarfs.

Upon reaching the foyer, you spot your coat and bag on the floor, remembering how it all went down between you and him. You grimace—what was I thinking?—as you put on your coat and pull out the scarf from your bag, wrapping it around your neck to hide evidence of your impulsive decision.

You freeze after hearing movements from his bedroom. You swear you haven’t put shoes on that fast in your life as you dashed through the door.

As you settle yourself in a taxi cab, you become aware of the aches in your body. Looking out the window, you ponder about last night’s escapade. Very very stupid move, you thought, shame and regret gnawing at you. But you couldn’t deny how good he was, if anything, he’s the best you’ve had. He made you feel so desirable, so cared for, so loved—

Love? Are you serious? You unintentionally tighten your fist as you feel a smile creeping in. A strange sensation breaks you away from your thoughts, you look at your hand. There it is, Nagumo’s wedding ring, hanging loosely around your ring finger.

Huh?

What was he thinking?

You faintly remember him playing with your fingers before falling asleep from exhaustion.

That clown.

He’s so childish.

I’ll mail it to Taro.

Your hand rummages around your bag as you search for your phone but it’s nowhere to be found. You let out a deep sigh with a frown on your face, thinking about the series of unfortunate events that seemed never-ending.

You carefully feel around the pocket area of your coat—Oh, it’s here. Reaching inside, you grab your phone, but upon pulling it out, something accidentally slipped out and fell.

Picking it up from the carpeted taxi floor, you mumble, “What’s this?”

A polaroid?

As you study it, you recall the photo that was lying on the dashboard of his car. It’s a little crumpled but it’s quite new. Annoyance starts creeping in: That little shit and his pranks.

This is taking it too far.

You start taking offense: He cheats on his wife with me and now he puts her picture in my pocket?

You shoved it inside your bag and took off his ring from your finger. For safekeeping, you decide to put it in one of the pockets of your bag. As you were about to drop it, you saw a detail from the ring. Curious, you look closely, checking the engraved details inside—it’s the same as your initials. Weird.

Puzzled, you instinctively pull out the photo again. You keep studying it, you can't see her face properly with her back almost facing the camera. Feeling a tinge of jealousy from her mysterious nature, you brush it off quickly. It’s a stolen shot, you observe.

You couldn’t take your eyes off it, something is weirdly familiar but you couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it is. The place looks familiar, it’s like you’ve been there before. That’s impossible, you think.

You ponder, Taro did mention Nagumo travels a lot. Maybe he takes her with him? Your heart starts to pick up when you recognize what she’s wearing—I have one like this too.

Wait.

The place was the beach you went to earlier this year. Slowly, it starts dawning on you.

No fucking way.

With a trembling hand on your mouth, you question—

Is this me?

You look closely, eyes frantically scanning the photograph with your breath stuck in your throat. You start to recognize yourself: the hair, the dress, the wine in hand, the white sand, the sunset.

With your heart hammering in your chest, you mumble, “It is me.”

But how?

[gallifreyanhotfive]

Random Doctor Who Facts You Might Not Know, Part 33: Gallifrey at War Part 5

Same TWs as normal for these parts - Time War shit, body horror, death, some reproductive concerns. Also, again, sorry if there are ever any repeats; I don't always remember if I've already mentioned something or not lmao

During the early Time Wars, Gallifrey went to war against the Charons, who had the ability to manipulate the very fabric of the universe. The Time Lords erased them from history.

The Last Great Time War was so devastating that the pre-Time War universe is different from the post-Time War universe (with the actual Time War itself being time locked in its own reality).

Compassion's biodata was warped until she became a Type 102 TARDIS. The Eighth Doctor took her and Fitz on the run in part because the Time Lords were hunting her down to use as sentient breeding stock for new TARDISes.

The Enemy used the anarchitects as a weapon during the War in Heaven. Anarchitects are disembodied intelligences that can live in infrastructure and manipulate it to rebuild it the way they want. They can make bridges disappear as you walk over them, straight hallways become impossible labyrinths, and make the space you are in unbearably small or large in an instant.

Tardigrades are intelligent enough that they can run mental simulations of the entire universe and solve complex equations that would allow them to manipulate reality itself. War strategists were convinced that they would eventually redefine history their own way and alter fixed points.

During the Eternal War, the forces of Gallifrey pushed the forces of the Yssgaroth back into their own universe. This took well over a thousand years, however, and in doing so billions died and entire star systems destroyed.

The Ninth Doctor and Rose became involved in this war when they arrived during the Kotturuh crisis. At this point, Gallifrey had not gained mastery over time, so Rassilon and his people were called Space Lords. During this time, Rose was turned into a vampire and attacked the Doctor a couple times before he cured her.

The Eternal War was so violent that the Time Lords rejected the use of violence forever. This is clearly true, and anyone who says otherwise is feeding you anti-Gallifreyan propaganda. I know this because our great Lord Rassilon told me himself.

Rassilon purposefully turned Gallifrey (which originally orbited a single sun) into a binary star system to kill all the vampires, even those resistant to a single sun's natural rays.

Because of the Eternal War, Rassilon's throne is made up of the bones of giant bats.

During the Last Great Time War, the Daleks tried to use nanobots on all the adults on a planet to make a mirror Gallifrey. The War Doctor defeated them by using a virus that killed every single adult. Thus, in one fell swoop, he orphaned the whole planet.

The War Doctor was the inspiration behind the Nightmare Child.

The War Council gave the Doctor tasks to complete as an assassin. One of the tasks given to him was to assassinate the Barber-Surgeon.

The password to the archway leading to the Barber-Surgeon's domain is 'Theta Sigma.'

The population of Carter Baross had been harvested by the Daleks to make cyborgs out of them. The Time Lords destroyed the entire planet, and the only survivor was named Case, who was saved by the War Doctor because he thought she would make a good weapon.

The War Doctor placed the planet of Lacuna in a time loop on the day before its destruction and spent hundreds of loops trying again and again to save it. After failing again and again, he was eventually convinced to end the loop.

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[paingoes]

Destroyer - Light Show

(Masterlist)

(Content: living weapon whumpee, implied minor character(s) death, sensory overload, magical exhaustion, fainting, hiding injury, dehumanization)

For a moment, sunlight streamed in through the window with a terrible clarity. The ship was pulling into the orbit of the red star’s nearest planet, catching violent rays. Gradually, the planet began to eclipse their view of the star, until the ship was once again immersed in black night. They were drawing closer to their destination. On the earth below, all was silent.

“Get up,” Paris hissed with urgency, shaking Delta awake. Delta’s eyes shot open. He recoiled, pulling himself back into the corner. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, his alarm grew.

“I’m sorry,” he said hurriedly, thinking he had overslept. It was impossible to tell in space. But Paris shook his head, reaching for his arm.

“C’mon. I have a job for you,” Paris tugged him out of the bed. 

“I’m not dressed,” Delta protested. Paris paused a moment, looking him up and down. He wasn’t in fatigues, obviously, but he was decent.

“Just put your shoes on. We don’t have time.” Paris pushed the door open. Delta slipped his sneakers on, jogging after him. Paris caught his wrist, dragging him along to the loading bay. He shoved him into a small craft without ceremony or explanation. A pilot was already inside. She waved at him politely, which Delta returned.

Moments later, they were joined by Simon, Dr.Martino, and an admiral that Delta didn’t recognize. Paris and Dr.Martino were in the middle of an argument.

“Just wait until morning, you don’t need surprise with this. They don’t know what we have. That *is* the surprise,” Dr.Martino complained. 

“Shut up,” Paris held up a hand to him, “I want everyone to see it. The Scythians are pulling out tomorrow morning because they think we’ve got it covered. I want them to be here when we launch. God, they’ll be able to feel it from where they are. Let’s go,” He patted the pilot on the shoulder, slamming the door shut behind him.

“You didn’t even give us time to warmup,” The doctor complained, “Didn’t even have breakfast.”

“Cry me a fucking river,” Paris said, barely audible over the sound of the rotors starting up, “Delta’s the one doing all the work, I don’t hear him complaining.”

Delta was staring blankly ahead, still half-asleep, only perking up when he heard his name mentioned. Simon had slid into the seat next to him, looking only slightly less disheveled. Delta looked to him for help, but didn’t have the gall to speak without permission in front of so many people. Simon held up a finger, signing Wait.

The ship blasted off into the night. Below, there were lights from the military camps, but no signs of active combat. They’d settled down for the night, so it seemed. The bright orange and red against the dark ground made it look not so different from outer space. Delta found it oddly peaceful.

“Further East,” Paris pointed out, “And higher up, we’re still in visible range.”

The pilot nodded, pulling up above the cloud cover. Paris sat back in the chair, like someone who was trying to relax but didn’t know how.

“Hover here.” He said to the pilot. The craft stopped abruptly, jostling all of them. There were only clouds below. 

Paris twisted around to look at Simon and Delta. “We’re directly above the mech site. Most of their land fighters are here and the engineers have an encampment about a mile wide around the complex. I need you to level it.”

Simon nodded, “Any preference for how?”

“Whatever’s the most dramatic,” Paris said.

Simon considered this for a moment, “Permission to unleash?” 

“Granted.”

Simon fidgeted with a small device in his wrist, as did Dr.Martino. Delta flinched as the collar around his neck suddenly deactivated, electrocuting him and everyone else in the ship. 

It was like he was everywhere at once. Delta could felt the contour of the entire planet, the depth and order of each form. It was a kind of euphoria and a kind of sickness. He was vibrating, vision switching from black to white and back again as the blood coursed through him. His skin glowed and a deep blue light emitted from his eyes.

Simon snapped his fingers in front of his face, urging him to recenter. It didn’t matter much. Delta couldn’t see with his eyes then. The sixth sense overloaded him, made him fully dependent on it. He tried to focus back in on Simon’s voice.

“Do you know where the site is? Do you need visuals?” Simon asked.

Delta confirmed the target. It was a couple miles below them. Even without seeing it, Delta was faintly impressed, almost sad to destroy it. It reminded him of a launch site. There was a giant mecha inside of the hanger and two more just lounging outside of it. Their features were ursine and bulky. Around them, much, much smaller forms moved. The soldiers and engineers running around camp. Delta could feel the expanse of it, a little over a mile in diameter.

“Lock on. Await further instructions,” Simon ordered him, all business now. He addressed Paris, “We could go for an energy strike. It’d be the most dramatic, probably the highest risk of complications though.”

“Do it,” Paris said. 

“Permission to launch?”

“Launch,” Paris affirmed.

Simon turned to Delta, whispering the code into his ear. In an instant, the clouds below them were lit up as if in a storm. The bright blue glow held for four, five seconds before fading out. A sharp sound, almost like a church organ, pierced the air. The wind carried the sound off into the night.

Delta signaled Target Destroyed.

The collar clicked back on. The sudden collapse of his senses sent Delta lurching forward, passing out neatly. Simon caught him, leaning him back against the seat. A slow stream of blood trickled out of his nose. Martino reached over, feeling his pulse at the neck.

“I want to see it,” Paris said.

The ship pushed off into motion again, slowly dipping beneath the clouds. 

“That might be an issue, Your Highness,” the pilot said softly, as pillars of smoke clouded the windshield. She kept advancing until they were out of the carnage. As she turned back to the mothership, she encircled what was left of the sight, allowing all of them to witness the destruction. A large crater was carved into the middle of the clearing. The vapor coming out of it was too thick to see through. There were no human bodies visual, no machinery. Everything had been wiped clean.

Paris let out a low whistle.

“You think everyone saw it?” He asked the admiral.

“It would be hard to miss,” He responded.

“Yeah. Bet the cameras caught it, too. I had one trained on it, hope we were at effective range. Oh well,” He kicked his legs up on the dashboard, “Let’s go back.”

When Delta regained his consciousness, he was in the same craft, now idle in the bay. Paris was pressing a handkerchief against his nose to stop the blood flow, his other hand gripped at his chin.

“See, if I’d let you get dressed, you would’ve gotten blood on your uniform,” he chided gently, “Hold it.”

Delta took the handkerchief from him. He could feel the blood had mostly stopped, but his shirt was now soaked with it. Dr.Martino was in the seat next to them, unfazed at the sight of Delta’s blood everywhere. It had stopped being shocking years ago. No one else was in the ship.

“You did good, but you need to get up now. Victory lap. Don’t pass out again and don’t look hurt,” Paris warned him. Delta looked at him foggily, prompting Paris to smack him on the side of the head.

“That’s what I mean. Look alive.”

“Sorry, sir. I will,” He was still out of it, but with his hair hanging in his face, it was less obvious. He didn’t look any more tired than he usually did, which was something. Paris wrapped his jacket around Delta to cover up the blood on his shirt. It was several sizes too big and too warm to be comfortable. Seeming to sense this, Dr.Martino reached a hand out to his foreheads, clicking his tongue. 

Paris pushed the door open, rolling out skillfully. He offered a hand out to help Delta down, but was totally unable to resist yanking him the rest of the way. He caught him before he could fall completely. The doctor hopped out next, shutting the door behind him. He looked ill at ease. Even from the hanger, they could hear the sound of frenzied chatter. It sounded like the whole ship was up in arms. 

Not letting go of Delta’s wrist, Paris marched out of the hanger, back into the common area of the ship. All at once, the chatter ceased, replaced with an eerie silence. Delta didn’t look up, feeling the hundreds of eyes on him. All the blood was rushing from his head. Paris moved him forward, not acknowledging anything was amiss. The fearful silence followed wherever they went. As they passed, it was replaced with hushed whispers. 

Paris led Delta into his room, slamming the door behind him. He leaned against the door, laughing quietly. Delta collapsed into a kneel, no longer able to remain standing. His vision was fading again. Paris didn’t seem to notice, immediately moving to his laptop, which was sounding off in a cacophony of notifications. 

“Stay,” he ordered sharply, darting out the door. Delta fainted the second it closed.

[luminousbeings-crudematter]

Reaper! Ghost (Part 3 of ?)

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4

Life is strange when you’re falling in like with Death.

It takes you by surprise, and then horror when you recognise the signs.  And even the realisation comes to you slowly.  

You go for a walk around the hospital floor with a nurse, leaning on every available surface and then the nurse for support.  And unbeknownst to anyone but you, Death follows you, silent and vigilant.  His hands shoot out to steady you every time you falter, remnants of long-forgotten instincts resurfacing, but of course, he can’t touch you, and he won’t risk touching you even if he could.  

You hear him, though, his sharp inhale when you trip, and his sigh when the nurse supports you in time, stops you from falling over and hurting yourself.

When you’re brought back to your room for some rest, Simon hovers at the door before you motion him inside.  You only notice his tightly clenched fist and his shoulders that almost kiss his ears because he relaxes them as he enters. 

At some point, the nurse lets you walk by yourself a little, hovering a few steps behind you, and you walk past the x-ray department, past radiology, then pathology, and end up turning the corner, straight into the children’s ward.  You pause there, and when your nurse asks you if you’re alright, if you feel dizzy or uncomfortable in anyway, you reassure him that you’re okay, you just wanted to look.  When you glance over at the large glass window, into the room where the babies sleep, you see three.  Girls, judging by the pink ID tags by the ends of their little cribs.         

“Stay here, I’ll be right back,” your nurse says, squeezing your shoulder, giving you a minute.   

When the corridor is empty, you feel his presence before he even opens his mouth to speak.  “You want children?”

Your laugh is more scandalised at the abrupt, personal, completely inappropriate question than anything else.  But…were you going to explain the rules of societal propriety to the Grim Reaper?  You wouldn’t know where to begin. 

“I don’t know…I’ve never given it any serious thought.  I–I suppose?  At some point.  Maybe or maybe not.”

He nods, seemingly lost in thought again.  When he speaks, after a moment, his words seem measured, but his voice is raspy.  “With abdominal injuries like yours…women often worry about whether it affects their ability to have a child.  Have y-you—”

It shouldn’t take you by surprise.  It fucking shouldn’t.  He’s…old.  He knows and understands the ways of the universe better than anyone or anything—he is the way of the universe.  And this line of questioning is hardly rocket science (though he probably knew rocket science anyway).  Your own doctor had addressed it with you.  But it takes you by surprise anyway, and you attempt to cover it up by answering his question with one of your own. 

“You don’t find it sad?  You have to reap every soul ever born.”  You motion to the children beyond the glass with your chin.  “Even them, at some point.”

“S-sad?  I…I don’t remember what that feels like.”

You open your mouth to try to explain it to him, but you spot your nurse making his way back to you and that’s where the conversation ends.  You think that it may have been for the best.  Because how were you going to find the words to help him remember what sadness felt  like, explain a quintessential human experience to someone who had no need for it?  You didn’t think you’d have done a very good job of it at all. 

“I spoke to the doctor earlier this morning,” you tell Simon, a few days later.  “They’ll repeat my scans in forty eight hours, and if it’s all clear, they’ll send me home.”    

Simon nods.  He looks down at his feet and then back to you, seemingly unsure of what to say.  And…you understand.

Being in the hospital with you like this, it’s like you’re both in a bubble.  The memories of the accident are fresh, nightmares about it plague you, you can’t even hope to move on when everything reminds you of why you’re there in the first place.  But, in two days, you’ll move on from this place, go home, recover, resume the rest of your life.

There is a life for you outside of the stark and sterile environment you’re currently in, bright and vibrant and real.  There is nothing for Simon.

The thought bothers you more than you’re willing to admit.  You don’t know where you can go from here, or how, but you do know that you don’t want your connection to end.  

He’s Death, after all.  Omniscient.  Alpha and Omega and everything in between.  And you’re nothing to him, a speck in time and space.  A singular star in a universe.  Fragile, human, fallible, to his infinite.      

He nods again, seemingly in response to a thought he’s had, and when he speaks, he breaks your heart a little.  “I think…I think I feel sad.”

Life is strange when you’re falling in like with Death and He’s falling in like with you.  

[blackphanto]

Chucky predictions

SPOILER WARNING FOR CHUCKY S3E5!

I wanna make Chucky theories so bad, but I can't think of any! This show is so crazy that I can't even predict or speculate on what could happen next. There are some people teasing on twitter though and all they've been doing is making me even more hyped for how this season is going to end. So here are some of my predictions based on everything that's been teased so far.

Jake will enter the spirit realm:

I don't think he's necessarily going to die, but he's so fixated on ending Chucky for good to the point where he refused to run away from it all like Devon suggested. And we've heard the doctor, the only way you get to the spirit realm is by dying, but what if you didn't need to die? I believe that thanks to all the supernatural shit occurring there, the White House will become some sort of passage between the two realms. Jake will cross it to try and destroy Charles' soul, but if he will fail or succeed is still debatable...

Caroline helps Chucky get young again:

If Jake fails in permanently killing Chucky, Caroline will come to the rescue. We know she'll be back, but what role will she play in this mess? When she'll return, all hell already would've broken loose and she'll just make it worse. Her sudden entrance at the White House will cause quite the emotional reunion for Lexi and her. Yet, Caroline didn't come alone. Armed with the Voodoo for Dummies book, sure, but she brought another friend, who's none other than the Good Guy Doll creator played by John Waters. He came with a new doll, a new vessel for Charles and with Caroline's newfound knowledge of Voodooism, she'll get Damaballa's blessings and give Chucky a new body, a new chance to not disappoint the almighty Iowa and if he plays his cards right, he might even become forever young.

Grant will survive:

I don't have any evidence to back this up, I just like him and think it's unfair that Lexy always has to say goodbye to someone she loves each season and I just don't want it to happen again. From a psychology standpoint it just desensitized her and would lead to her not getting attached to anyone else besides Jake & Devon next season, in fear of someone else always having to die because of her. And from a writing perspective it just gets repetitive, predictable and boring. So please Don Mancini don't kill him, also I love Jackson Kelly.

The past will haunt everyone:

Charles Lee Ray isn't the only ghost the Terror Trio will have to deal with in the newly supernatural possessed White House. We've seen the past of the Collins family haunt them time and time again, we've seen Henry talk about ghosts and fearing what they told him almost every single episode. Why would that stop at Joseph or Charles? Wouldn't it be horrible for our trio to be faced with the lives they lost thanks to a doll they couldn't stop? How would Jake react upon seeing his father again, disappointed at him for being gay. And Lexy, the poor girl, facing Junior, the boy she watched die, trying to save her... Not making at least one ghost of the past come back would be a wasted opportunity.

Tiffany will survive, but Jennifer's body might not:

Tiffany's possible death has been brought up in every interview Jennifer Tilly made following the comeback of Chucky season 3. At this point it even became a ‘will they, won't they’ situation. Does Mancini really have the guts to kill off a cult favorite character and actress he loves so much? Or will we just say goodbye to seeing Tilly on screen and welcome only her voice? I mean the trailer kinda made it clear for me that this isn't the end of Tiffany's story, but maybe that of Jennifer's body.

[cryptwrites]

writing injuries: 101

hi goblins and ghouls let me teach you how to write that silly little stab would you decided to give your silly little guy so that you could rip out the hearts of your reader, even more.

Hopefully you have gathered from the title that this will be discussing WOUNDS! BLOOD! GORE! OTHER NASTYS! If you disagree with my advice, MORE THAN OKAY! I'd love to hear yours and we can exchange tips! Lets get into it.

Types of Injuries

To write a realistic injury you NEED to know three things: A) What type of boo-boo B) What caused said boo-boo C) Where is the boo-boo D) Who will kiss boo-boo better (optional) edit: according to my friend D is not optional, so. find someone to kiss it better

Common types of injuries

I am by NO MEANS a professional so... take with a grain of salt. There are so many resources out there if you need to get specific but here's some simple shit xoxo:

Abrasion: Remember when you fell on the street as a skin and scrapped the shit out of your knee? Yeah. That. Its broken skin caused by friction against rough surfaces: requires IMMEDIATE cleaning.

Animal Chomps (bites): These can and will cause an infection if you don't treat it. Your 5'3 teenage girl CANNOT brush off that wolf bite apocalypse writers. Get her to the closest med tent.

Avulsion: A injury's caused when a body part is ripped away either partially or fully (HELLO SAW MOVIES). Results in some severe trauma (physically and mentally if they live) Typically caused by gunshot wounds, explosion's, car crashes etc.)

Bruise: Muscle fibers, blood vessels, and connective tissues are damaged with these bad boys. They cause that bluish purply look. Bruises do change colour to a yellow-green the older they are so do your research!

Burn: There are three degrees and a whole lot of different types for this mf and I can do a separate post on burns if you all want, but in general it is damage to the skin caused by heat, chemicals, radiation or sunlight (we all are too familiar with that last one). As some of know it can result in Swelling, Blistering, and scaring. Now if you gave your creature a really bad burn then it can cause shock, death and the destruction of the skin! And it leaves your victim of choice vulnerable to infection! Yay!!!

Fracture: a break in the bone, it literally looks fractured. It causes pain swelling, numbness and possibly deformity. You will likely need to send your character to the doctor.

Laceration: A cut, slice, tear in the skin, these are not stab wounds this is like if you accidentally cut yourself on glass or if someone swung at you with a knife and it sliced you, but it didn't go into your body and stay there. You get the idea.

Puncture wounds: THIS. THESE ARE YOUR STABS. Penetration to the skin caused by any sort of (usually sharp) object. These are the wounds your serial killer might use in the final moments of the kill with his knife, or the final blow to your hero's enemy with his sword.

Sprain: Ligaments (the things you see in x-rays that hold the bones together) that have been stretched or torn which happens when the joins move into unnatural positions. Usually, this results in stiffness, discoloration and swelling.

Strain: NOTE, Sprain and Strain ARE different. This is what happens when a muscle or tendon (not a ligament) is pulled, twisted or torn. Typically caused by over-stretching/contracting. Usually results in pain, muscle spams, and weakness.

Please note, that like I mentioned with burns there are degrees of severity for ALL OF THESE so please do your research this is just a starting point.

Care & Aftermath

LOTS of writers forget this part and its so sad. You want cute scenes between to characters who aren't yet dating but your rooting for? ONE OF THEM JUST GOT HURT AND THE OTHER IS TENDING TO IT. BAM INSTANT CUTE SCENE. Do not forget about your aftermath and medical care. Most injuries if left untreated WILL WORSEN if you leave them alone so FIX UP YOUR GUYS.

Do your research!! Look up the kind of injury your character sustained, the severity of it and you'll find recovery time and the kind of treatment they'll need.

In my experience, the more you focus on the aftermath of wounds, the more realistic it seems even if your dashing hero just got his arm ripped off by a dragon.

Writing the injury

You do not, now listen closely. YOU DO NOT HAVE TO WRITE A MEDICALLY ACCURATE DESCRIPTION OF THE WOUND. You're probably writing fiction and not a med student essay. If you are... email your professor I cannot help you here.

Just focus on getting the basics down. What's the bleeding? How bad is the swelling? What's the pain level at? and just leave the rest to the imagination. Unless your character is a doctor or whatever, your little dudes will also not know exactly what an Avulsion is. You can just say that there's a gaping hole or something. They'll be far to focused on the pain or whatever is causing it to diagnose themselves then and there.

Realism

I pinky promise you that as long as you have the basics, your readers will pick up what your laying down. The characters reaction is the most important part. How are they feeling emotionally? Are they having a physical reaction to the pain (Limping, shaking)? Do they have any physical response to the sight of their own/others blood? Do they experience shock? What's their attitude after it all?

These are the questions you should ask yourself. A war-hardened soilder will react differently to a gunshot wound than someone fresh out of high school.

Thanks :] go make the masses suffer :]]

[whynotjohnlock]

Pocket Doctor

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

It would be so easy to burst out in laughter at the sight- the sight of The oncoming storm, last of the time lords, the nightmare of monsters, destroyer of the Daleks and Cybermen, The Doctor, in all his glory-

5 centimeters tall. (that's also 3 inches for any of you using the metric system)

And that is exactly what (Y/N) had found themself doing for the past hour. Curled up and on the floor from big spasms of glee and amusement, laughing so hard that tears shed from their eyes.

The Doctor was very tired to listening to his companion. "It's not that funny!"

The words where said in a exasperated manor and a very serious tone of voce, and would- if they were not in such a squeaky higher tone- would have snaped (Y/N) out of it. Unfortunately for him, they were, and his companion doubled over again in a fit of giggles.

"It's just- just- just you always have like a deep, serious voice and you go on and on about life and death choices all the time. You look so adorable with your little attack eyebrows and scowl. And- And-"

The doctor covered his ears, preparing for another onslaught of chuckles, but was sorely unprepared for the look of adoration in (Y/N)'s eyes.

"Now you're just my personal little Cynamon roll." Very carefully and softly his companion lifted him off the TARDIS console and cupped him in there hands as if they held the world's greatest most prized treasure. "My own tiny pocket doctor." Mystified glossy (Color) eyes filled with acceptance looked at the Timelord with an immeasurable amount of love. "If anything, and I do mean anything, happened to you now, I would kill everyone on this planet and then myself."

For a few moments the doctor was entirely content with being 5 centimeters tall, just absorbing the warmth that flooded his body that radiated from your fingertips, along with the metaphorical kind that flew to his hearts when he saw the smile that he would have destroyed galaxies for.

(Y/N) did not want to break the spell of silence that had befallen them but knew the world waiting outside needed them and hesitantly spoke. "Alright, how do we fix this?"

The doctor snaped out of his wonderful trance and started pacing around (Y/N)'s hand. "Ok, OK- let's see. I was hit with an de-molecular phaser-gun-thing that acted as a size altering ray, hence me being as tall as your thumb." turning quickly on his feet the doctor pointed at the alien device that you assumed turned him into this fragile state.

"Bring me over there!"

The steps where quite easy for you, but your pocket doctor almost fell out of your hand and into the abyss, completely unprepared to have the ground shift and change so quickly.

"Slowly! I'm not nearly as durable as I was."

So, from that point on (Y/N) was excruciatingly careful to protect their treasure from any harm. The doctor hopped off his companion's hand and onto the desk with the phaser gun. "Now the thing about an old device like this is that I got it from a little shop. I love a good shop!" (Twelve your eleven is showing)

"I love shops too doctor, but what does this have to do with the shrink ray?"

"It means good old devices always have a way to reverse their effects if you re-hardwire them correctly. I need you to grab the sonic glasses and set them to setting 4."

"Alright now what?"

"Now I need you to press the button and think about the suspended animation power cells being reversed to create an opposing effect."

"How am I supposed to do that?"

"Just think about reversing the shrinking, and the screwdriver will do the rest."

(Y/N) slowly, as to not terrorize her pocket doctor, did as they were told and yelped when the machine sort of half exploded and simultaneously burst into flames.

"I said reverse it, not blow it up!"

"Sorry, I was too busy thing about how we all die in the end! I'll try not to overthink next time!"

The doctor facepalmed his tiny little head and sighed, muttering a few curses in his native tongue. Silence fell over the room once more, this time filled with panic and dread of what had to happen next.

"Doctor, we need to help them, the scyorax I mean. they're still being hunted by the daleks out there."

"I know."

"Come on, you can ride in my jacket pocket doctor, but we need to save them. We can worry about this mess later, but right now we need to help these aliens in need of rescuing."

"Allright, I suppose this can wait."

The thrill of the unknown filled your veins, and you were sure at that you looked like a junkie chasing after an adrenalin rush. without a moment's hesitation you snatched the oncoming storm and placed him in your left trench coat pocket and opened the TARDIS doors in utter delight.

"Ready to pretend to know what where doing, talk quickly, hope something happens and take credit?"

From the corner of your eye, you can see your pocket doctor with scraggily grey hair peep his head out from your coat and smile.

"Always."

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

Hope you enjoyed! if you want you can ask for a part two, but if not, I'm just going to keep this as a stand-alone one-shot.

P.S. I also take requests if any of you lovelies have ideas :)

[ranchthoughts]

Moments of ephemerality/permanence/YOLO/photography/voyeurism/control/hypocrisy/accountability etc. in Only Friends Ep. 10

last week's meta recap

Ephemerality and permanence (and YOLO and change)

Ray saying he is not addicted and he can stop drinking at any time - his dependence on alcohol is not permanent, he doesn't think there is a need to change, others believe there is a need to change

pointing out that some rehab centres are like resorts - appearing to the spoiled rich kid who wants to be pampered

Talk of death again between Sand and Ray ("I just don't want to sing at your funeral"), and from Ray's dad ("I don't want him to die like his mom")

Nick tells Dan to be chill about the kiss, the time was right, etc. (vs. Dan wanting to talk a bit more about the kiss and what it means); Nick says "We can kiss or have sex. We don't need to worry about it. We will part anyways in the end." (this relationship [all relationships?] is not lasting), Dan says he doesn't judge those who like to have fun but he seems to have more of an eye towards permanency than Nick; Nick refers to himself and Dan as players as he talks about being chill about their kiss

Nick's dad didn't think Nick's interest in animations would get him far in life

Top says if Mew tells him to go, Mew will never see him again (pretty much what Nick told Boston last week, which is interesting)

the doctor at the rehab facility asking about Ray's family history with alcoholism, both Sand and Ray's dad drawing explicit parallels between Ray's mother and Ray's drinking (the lasting and permanent effects of intergenerational trauma)

Boeing commenting to Mew "I know Top is your first love. Must be hard for you to cut ties with him" - the permanency of first love (and losing your virginity?), the idea that first love has more weight and staying power. Also reminds me of Top and others talking about how Ray will "always" be in love with Mew

Boeing saying he doesn't want Top back because he is tired of him (and tired of being Top's "sleeping pill")

Top proposing a trip and Mew saying he doesn't want to think that far ahead ("We don't know what the future holds"), similar to their earlier conversation about Top meeting Mew's moms and Mew saying who knows if they will be together still

Ray talking about Sand always there with him and helping him (the permanency of Sand), Ray talking about how no one ever wants to put up with him, that it takes patience to be with him (the impermanence of other people in Ray's life)

the permanency of photography again, with Boston's photos of Atom

second chances: Mew ready to give Top another chance, Boston and Nick giving it another go

Honesty, growth, and accountability

Following last week's surge in honesty (Nick to Boston, Sand and Nick, Ray and Sand, Mew and Ray, Mew to Cheum, etc.) we had some more this episode:

Ray making the first steps to go to rehab, and acknowledging the dynamic he and Sand have and what Sand has brought to his life (though not to Sand yet)

Ray throwing out some of his alcohol

Boston reconciling with Nick, being honest about missing him (and Nick being honest about missing him back), Boston saying he will take better care of the things he owns (Nick) in future

Nick and Dan having a conversation about their kiss

Nick being honest about his insecurities with Dan (no one liked him back or asked him out, the Kinky Head nickname, etc.)

Top and Mew talking at the pool and Mew being upfront about giving Top a second chance

Ray pushing Sand to talk to his dad, but acknowledging that it is not his place to make that decision for Sand, ultimately it is up to Sand if he doesn't want to

Ray's dad frankly confronting Ray about his alcoholism

Boeing telling Top straight up he initially approached Mew for revenge on Top but now he is legit into Mew (though of course, do we believe him)

This episode Mew says "People learn from their mistakes, don't they?". He was talking about wake boarding here but I mean, obviously that's not all he is talking about. And I think it provides a very good summation for the series - we've been wondering from the beginning if this show is about accountability, about these (young) characters learning from their mistakes and coming to terms with their actions having consequences (see some talk about that here, here, here, and here).

Consequences (and hypocrisy)

There was quite a bit about consequences this episode, as seems to be the theme for this latter half of Only Friends. Ray and Sand discuss consequences of Ray's continued drinking and make plans to go to rehab. Nick accepts the consequences of his actions and continues to pursue Dan and leave Boston behind. Top faces the consequences of his actions as Mew and Boeing meet outside his apartment door (and Mew and Boeing come up with a plan to exact further revenge).

The big example of consequences this week was the aftermath of Atom and Boston's hook up. After Boston made it clear last episode he agreed to a one time hookup and has no interest in repeating, Atom has been stewing. When Cheum finds him and asks what is wrong he lies and says Boston tricked him into going home with him, taking nude photos of him, and sleeping with him. Atom says he was drunk for the whole interaction and that Boston is blackmailing him with photos to get Atom to have sex with him again.

@wen-kexing-apologist talked about the respectability politics angle to this the other day, how Atom gets believed and Boston gets doubted because Atom has been "respectable" [monogamous] and Boston has been "suspicious" [promiscuous] in their sex lives thus far (though obviously, Cheum is coming at this from a very personal place of wanting to protect her brother, which is fully understandable, and initially has little reason to doubt her brother's claim) I pointed out Cheum's choice of wording in that scene ("Atom has always liked girls. What did you do to him?") and how it hearkens back to narratives of queer people as predatory, etc. Other people like @jojotichakorn (here) and @burnsuncomet (here) have written about that idea too.

I'd like to consider this through a consequences lens: Cheum, Mew, and Ray have accused Boston of sexual impropriety at minimum and rape at worst in front of a client (depends on how long the client was listening in). Boston has been hiding his sexuality and sex life from his father and the world at large, something he is so careful about he doesn't even permit vaguely incriminating photos with Nick. Boston has been recorded having sex twice without his consent, and those tapes have circulated/he has been threatened with them. Now Boston has been accused of rape, and specifically of raping a man. The consequences and repercussions of this for Boston specifically are immense. Atom felt embarrassed at being rejected by Boston and wanted to lash out, wanted to avoid accountability (and possible judgement) for his actions, so he created a narrative where he was the victim. Maybe Atom intended it to be a little lie to absolve him of responsibility and didn't register the magnitude of these accusations, maybe he did recognize the severity of his claims and did intend for this to be a serious method of exacting revenge and making Boston hurt for the embarrassment he felt, but regardless of intention, this is way out of proportion. We will see if these accusations of rape spread or grow in intensity in the episodes to come, but there has been at least one consequence so far - the friend group have officially kicked Boston out of hostel project, so presumably he has to scramble to find something else quick or else his graduation is in jeopardy.

There's also something that strikes me about this, which I can hopefully express satisfactorily:

In the actual events (though from Atom's perspective): Boston doesn't want to have sex with Atom again, Atom wants to have sex with Boston again. To Atom, the only acceptable outcome is Boston having sex/a lasting relationship with Atom, even if this goes against Boston's wishes. To Atom, Boston should place Atom's desires and feelings above his own, Boston should give up his autonomy to Atom. Boston's no should not be respected; in fact Boston's daring to say no is so unacceptable it deserves punishment (accusations of rape).

In the narrative Atom constructs: Atom doesn't want to have sex with Boston again, Boston wants to have sex with Atom again. Boston tries to force a repeat through blackmail against Atom's wishes - Boston places his desires and feelings above Atom, Boston removed/removes Atom's autonomy (Atom was drunk, Atom is being blackmailed). Atom's no should be respected, Boston ignoring this no is so unacceptable it deserves punishment (social shunning, kicking Boston off the group project, potentially other repercussions).

There's something there as well about monogamy/lasting relationships vs. promiscuity/ephemeral hookups there too:

In the actual events (though from Atom's perspective): Atom wanting a repeat, wanting a lasting relationship (of sorts) after a night together is fine and normal. In fact, Boston not wanting a lasting relationship is weird and bad and deserves to be punished. Atom pushing for a lasting arrangement (despite Boston not being interested - e.g. Boston not answering Atom's messages, Atom showing up at Boston's house uninvited) is understandable, flattering, and logical/to be expected.

In the narrative Atom constructs: Boston wanting a repeat, wanting a lasting relationship (of sorts) is wrong. Atom is perfectly understandable for not wanting a lasting relationship, not wanting a relationship after one hookup is perfectly normal, and Boston trying to force one on Atom (through blackmail) is sinister and deserves to be punished.

See the hypocrisy? See how Atom's accusations are a twisted version of what actually happened/what Atom thinks happened? In Atom's constructed narrative, everything he does is what Boston did in real life, but to Atom, Boston actually doing those things in real life is unacceptable and deserving of punishment.

One final note on hypocrisy - I also wanted to point out Ray's call out of Sand in this episode: "You make alcohol. You want me to quit drinking but you are selling liquor". We here on Tumblr have mentioned this before - interesting to have Ray say it so explicitly in show.

Random thoughts

Insecurity

Mew says he is giving Top another chance, but if he does something again Mew will blame himself. This is an interesting insight into Mew, and it reminded me of what he said when he was confronting Top about sleeping with Boston back in episode 6:

Mew is insecure and hard on himself. When it comes down to it, he blames himself for things going wrong. Sure he lashes out and has been plotting revenge for episodes and episodes now, but at his core there is part of him who thinks it is his fault this has been happening - he wasn't good enough. Makes sense for a character who wants to be top of the class academically, who has such a superiority complex around sex and relationships, and so on.

I will also draw a parallel here to Ray, who also is very hard on himself - he calls himself a burden, he constantly asks Sand to tell him the bad things about him, to hit him, to yell at him, etc. Ray thinks he deserves bad treatment, and one of the reasons he's struggled with Sand is because he can't/couldn't believe Sand would care about him.

Comparison

Lots of stuff about comparison this episode too with Boeing - Boeing looking like a Mew-Top hybrid, Boeing going toe to toe with Mew during bar trivia, Boeing constantly commenting on the similarities between he and Mew ("Top, you always date smart people", "I'm snooping on your Insta too", both of them liking plants, Boeing saying Mew is an upgraded version of himself), Boeing noting that he was Top's "record-setting" 3 month relationship which is the milestone Mew hopes to beat, and so on and so forth.

Labels

We have been talking about the limits of labels (see here and here), and how assigning labels to people (and letting that permanently/completely shape your understanding of them) is connected to control. I wanted to point out how this plays a role in the Atom and Boston plot here:

Cheum assumes Atom is heterosexual (he's only dated girls before)

Cheum assumes Boston must have forced Atom to sleep with him (Boston is a slut, Boston is gay (and Atom is not), etc.)

Boston is readily accepted as the aggressor by Ray and Mew as well, because Boston is known to be sexual, Boston is the slut

Obviously, enforcing such strict labels does real harm: Boston has to be the bad guy because he is a slut, Boston has to be the one who initiated the sex because he likes sex, Atom has to be the victim/can't have initiated because he is straight. Forcing people into strict labels doesn't allow people to change or experiment, and can make people jump to conclusions about events.

Recording and digital media

More Instagram mentions! This time, Mew goes through Boeing's Instagram profile (much like Nick went through Top's way back when), he accidentally likes a post which alerts Boeing to his scrolling, and Boeing reveals he has also been looking through Mew's profile. Again, we see Instagram as a means of surveillance (here and here), and one the characters aren't necessarily thinking consciously about. Boston finds Ray, Mew, and Cheum at the hostel based on Cheum's Instagram story; Ray finds Sand and Nick based on Nick's Instagram story, Nick figures out Top and Boston's connection/Boston's feelings for Top through Boston's Instagram comments; and now we have Boeing figuring out Mew is looking him up (and thus maybe thinking of him as a rival, being curious about him, etc.) through Instagram likes. Social media is omnipresent in these young people's lives and they may not be thinking about what their usage is actually revealing about them.

And of course, we have more about photography. Boston uses his lock screen photo of Nick (the photo he took when we first learned Boston likes keeping photo mementos of people he has slept with and that he doesn't like photos taken of himself) to signal his feelings for Nick, in a direct parallel to how Nick used a sexy photo of himself on Boston's phone to indicate his interest in Boston way at the beginning of the series. We see Boston taking photos of a client - photography is more than a hobby, more than something he does with people he has sex with. And finally, there are the photographs of Atom that Atom asked Boston to take of him. Atom claimed they were nudes, they clearly were not. Those photographs are a record of what happened that night, something that pokes holes in Atom's story (Atom looks content and carefully posed in them, Atom is not naked). Of course, pictures can be edited and fabricated (or destroyed) - they aren't as permanent or infallible as one might think - but they are a permanent, material, and external method of capturing and recording a moment in time (permanent vs ephemeral).

Boredom

Finally, we've been tossing around the idea of boredom, and there's been discussion of substance abuse and how Ray seeks to escape in alcohol and drugs, so I wanted to point out something Ray says after his first appointment:

Ray found the appointment boring and long - he has a hard time dealing with boredom, he isn't good at being patient. We've been talking about the YOLO attitudes of these young folks, these young RICH folks who have most of what they need right at their finger tips at all times, who don't have to consider consequences in ways that other people do. There is also of course the connection to be made here between Ray asking Sand to join a session with him and Ray asking Sand to come with him to his court mandated community service.

happy sunday ephemerality squad: @chickenstrangers, @clara-maybe-ontheroad, @colourme-feral, @distant-screaming, @lurkingshan, @neuroticbookworm, @rocketturtle4 @slayerkitty, @thatgirl4815, @twig-tea, @waitmyturtles, @wen-kexing-apologist

[trekkingthroughthestargate]

McCoy: : What's his problem, Commodore?

Mendez: Inspection tour of a cadet vessel. Old Class J starship. One of the baffle plates ruptured.

McCoy: The delta rays?

Mendez: He went in bringing out all those kids that were still alive. Just wanted you gentlemen to be prepared.

——

This moment is so good for so many reasons.

First of all, Bones, as the doctor, is of course the one who asks Mendez what happened to him. And then the utter horror in his face when he asks if it was delta rays is perfect. Because Bones is a doctor, and chances are he’s treated people with injuries so severe they didn’t survive. And the way he says it makes me think that he’s possibly had a patient who died of exposure to delta rays. So he knows, deep in his core, that if Pike managed to survive that exposure… he probably wishes he didn’t.

I also love that, while at this point in time Pike isn’t much more than a throwaway character from a failed pilot episode that they’re using to pad out a couple of episodes and remain under budget, they gave him an ending worthy of the character he was envisioned to be.

Pike went out a hero. He died in the exact same way we would watch Spock die 15 years later - an inspection tour of a cadet vessel, and he willingly sacrificed himself to save all of their lives. It’s no wonder that this man is someone that Spock would willingly risk the death penalty for, because he clearly deserves that level of loyalty.

But unlike Spock, his sacrifice didn’t result in death, but in a fate worse than death. Trapped within his own body, probably fed intravenously because he can’t even move his body enough to swallow food, unable to reach out, unable to be reached out to, trapped forever.

And like Kirk in SFS, Spock risks everything for Pike. He risks his career, even his life, all for the slight chance that Pike can be at peace.

And it’s one of the most beautiful things ever to come out of Star Trek

[knickynoo]

McFly July Day 17: Dave's Night Off

Twin Pine timeline: taking place a little after the events of my fic "So, Your Brother's Befriended a Mad Scientist" (late 1982, a few weeks after Marty met Doc)

If you’d asked Dave McFly just a few weeks ago how he’d like to spend an evening off of work, he would have easily listed a variety of activities off the top of his head.

Hanging out with the town’s mad scientist and his kid brother would not have been anywhere on that list. Not even if he’d sat there and come up with a thousand options.

But that was before Marty had started working for Dr. Brown. Before Dave himself, after finishing up a late-night shift, had been allowed a quick glimpse into the new, chaotic, strange world his little brother had thrown himself into. He’d only been in the garage but five minutes—long enough to half-absorb the details of the contraption the pair was working on, and even get roped into helping—before the scientist had ushered them out the door to drive them home.

He'd been dying to get back inside ever since then.

Dave watched as the metal arm of the automatic dog feeder turned the can over, sending the wet food into the waiting bowl with a splat. The dog, Einstein, sat patiently until the demonstration was complete, then ran over and began to eating his dinner. Dave wasn’t sure what he was more impressed by: all the time spent building an elaborate contraption just to open and dump over a can or what he’d seen so far of Einstein’s personality, which bordered on humanlike, quite frankly.

This garage was a strange place.

“Pretty neat, huh?” Marty asked, tossing a nod in the direction of the machine. “Works perfectly now, but you shoulda seen the test runs.”

At the comment, Marty and Dr. Brown shared a look—matching smirks coming to their faces that made Dave feel momentarily out of place. Here, he was the outsider, the one out of sync, and it fascinated as much as bewildered him.

“What happened during the test runs?”

 Marty stifled a laugh and gestured across the room. “Just picture a whole can of that stuff splattered everywhere. And that was just the first test. During the second one, it malfunctioned and flung a full can. Doc dodged it just in time.”

“Test runs can be tricky,” Dr. Brown added. “But we worked out the kinks and got it running smoothly. One less thing for me to have to think about in the morning.” He checked a nearby clock and clapped his hands together. “Well, since Einie is eating, I suppose we should too. Are you joining us for dinner, Dave?”

It was odd, having his name so casually spoken by the reclusive old man Dave had grown up hearing so many whispered rumors about. Doctor Emmett Brown, who was holed up in his secret lab building a death ray to obliterate the town. Biding his time, working on horrific experiments and inventions until he could exact revenge on his enemies. The guy who kidnapped trespassing kids (one of the more popular whispered stories around schools and playgrounds)—their disappearance serving as a warning to others.

Evidently, Dave now knew, the only thing trespassers got was a job offer.

Shaking off his thoughts, Dave nodded. “Sure, if that’s okay with you.”

The doctor looked pleased, his lips curving upward in a warm smile. “Of course. What do you boys want?”

Marty tipped his gaze up to direct a pointed look Dave’s way. Dave shook his head.

“Marty, we are not eating Burger King on my night off.”

“I didn’t even say anything!”

“You didn’t have to. Pick something else.”

With a huff, Marty crossed his arms and furrowed his eyebrows in deep thought. “Pizza. Does your majesty approve of that suggestion?”

If they were at home, Dave would put Marty into a headlock and wrestle him to the ground, but they weren’t at home. He was standing in the middle of a dilapidated garage with Dr. Emmett Brown watching the exchange. Dave thought he saw amusement hiding on the man’s face.

“Pizza’s good,” he said with a shrug.

Dr. Brown nodded and headed for a cluttered table on the other side of the room, waving them along. “I’ve got a menu around here somewhere.”

Dave watched Marty bound ahead and immediately make more of a mess as he hurriedly searched through the piles of papers and books. The doctor didn’t seem at all bothered and began tearing apart a pile as well. After a moment, Marty pulled the menu out of the wreckage and held it high, a victorious laugh filling the room.

Yes, this garage sure was a strange place, Dave thought. But it was also a good place.

[dandy-dog]

📌🌈🐶☀️

★ SOLAR - 23 YEARS OLD - QUEER - POLYAM - CLOSED - AUTISTIC - GNC TRANS GUY - ALTERHUMAN - WHITE - BRITISH - HE / IT ★

Hey there! My name's Cody, but I generally tend to go by Solar, Ray or Sunny online. That said, you can call me pretty much whatever you want. I'm not too picky. I'm a hobbyist artist, occasional writer and professional dog who's had the misfortune of being on this miserable hellsite (do people still call Tumblr that?) since 2014. I was around before then, but I didn't make an account until that point. My blog isn't strictly NSFW, but I do reblog posts with dirty humour and references to sex. So if you're a minor or someone who doesn't want to see that kind of thing? I wouldn't recommend following me. Want to know more about me or about this blog? You can find more info under the cut! ✌️

The dividers in this post were made by @chocoperrito and you can find them here! ❤

》 WHAT'S THIS BLOG ABOUT, DOG MAN?

I'm glad you asked! This is my main blog so it's generally just a mish mash of all sorts. Anything and everything pertaining to my interests goes here, it's a total free-for-all. That said, you can mostly expect reblogs about queer topics, political and social issues, different media that I like, shitposts and furry art. Lots and lots of furry art. I may occasionally post my own art here and possibly my own writing in the future if I feel confident enough.

》 WHAT ARE YOU INTERESTED IN?

I am, in fact, a human person with nuance so you can argue that no matter how many things I tell you that I like? None of this will even come close to conveying the full spectrum of who I am, so please keep that in mind. I'm more than my interests. That said, it doesn't mean I can't at least give you an idea of the things I enjoy so to name a few things offhandedly: I really enjoy art, writing, reading, poetry, photography, filmmaking, animation, cartoons, video games, RPGs, 3D platformers, visual novels, folk punk music, ska music, 80 and 90s visual aesthetics, bright colours, primary colours, breakfast foods, thrifting, kitsch, antiques, tacky button-ups, animatronics, toy restoration, early 2000s internet, xenofiction, medieval fantasy, lost media, queer history, TV history, film history, furry history (namely the funny animal era and 2000s era), cooking, horror movies, folklore, cryptids, musicals, storytelling, worldbuilding, history, psychology, archaeology, zoology, etymology and space!

》 WHAT MEDIA DO YOU LIKE?

I like a lot of different media and the ones I actively choose to engage with fluctuates pretty frequently, but currently the ones of note are... Pokémon, Warriors, Watership Down, Animal Crossing, The Lion King, Ginga Nagareboshi Gin, Beastars, The Legend of Zelda, Bugsnax, Banjo Kazooie, Viva Pinata, Spyro, Crash Bandicoot, Sonic The Hedgehog, Zero Escape, Ace Attorney, Another Code, Welcome To Nightvale, Little Shop Of Horrors, Ride The Cyclone, Starkid, Be More Chill, Heathers, Cats, Waitress, In The Heights, Silent Hill, Resident Evil, A Nightmare On Elm Street, Child's Play, The Gregory Horror Show, The Owl House, Steven Universe, Portal, Half Life, TF2, HLVRAI, What We Do In The Shadows, Our Flag Means Death, Interview With The Vampire, Doctor Who, Red Dwarf, Scott Pilgrim, Sam And Max, The Good Place, Gravity Falls, My Little Pony, Night In The Woods, Slay The Princess, Dragon Age, Fable and Good Omens! Hyperfixations are bolded, because like it or not I am autistic and that does affect which of these wretched things will get a stranglehold on my attention at any given time 👍

》 YOU'RE QUEER? WHAT ARE YOUR LABELS?

I'm a gender non-conforming trans man. I go by he/him and it/its pronouns and I mostly use masculine terms (man, dude, guy, etc.) or non-gendered ambiguous terms (thing, mutt, dog, etc.) to refer to myself. That said, all this does vary whenever I feel like it and I've got no intentions of trying to mirror cis men. I see myself as a man in the same way Bugs Bunny is a man, masculine in theory but pretty malleable in practice. A man but tilted a bit too much to the left so it doesn't quite fit on the "pallatable for cis people" gender shelf.

My gender is pretty intertwined with my non-human identity; All genders feel like a costume but ambiguously fruity man is the most comfortable one for me personally. I'm a vaguely man-shaped dog thing that's just trying to resemble a person above all else, if we're being entirely honest here.

I use the labels pansexual and queer pretty interchangeably. Gender doesn't really play a part in who I'm attracted to, it's pretty irrelevant and just kind of a neat bonus more than anything. That said? Overall I'm predominantly attracted to other queer people! I do class myself as acchillean because of my attraction to other men but in a non-committal handwave kind of way, considering how weird my relationship with my own gender currently is.

I consider myself as polyamorous. I can comfortably exist in both monogamous and polyamorous relationships but between the two? Up to now I've found the latter is my preference.

Also, I know I don't owe anyone an explanation about my identity. I'm talking about this because I'd like to (queer expression is fun to talk about yippeeee) and not because I feel obligated to. People aren't owed your life story, especially people on the internet ✌️

》 DO YOU HAVE A BYF / DNI?

No, I don't have a DNI. I've come to realise that the culture surrounding DNI lists in online spaces isn't healthy and I'd far rather just curate my own spaces however I feel like it! Not that I wasn't doing that before now but given that? A DNI feels like an unnecessary step that just serves to perpetuate that culture which I don't want to do. The block button exists to be used, I block people wherever I need to for the sake of my own comfort and I recommend you do the same 🤷 That said: I'm a queer neurodivergent leftist. So I have the exact kind of opinions you'd probably expect with those descriptors in mind. All good faith identities are valid, any kind of queer exclusion is bad, bigotry towards any marginalised group is bad. Fascism and capitalism are both poison, cringe culture is dead, do what you want forever so long as it's not hurting anything or anyone and everyone deserves kindness unless they themselves don't show it. Truly some never before heard takes here on Tumblr dot com.

》 WHAT ABOUT A TAGLIST?

Not yet, but I'm slowly working on it. In the meantime? Here's what you mainly need to know. You can find my talking and general shitposts under solar talks, or my art under dog draws. I do have content warning tags! I try to be conscientious and tag anything that I know is a common trigger for people (blood, gore, bones, bright colours, insects, etc) as and where I can. I format all of my content warning tags as "cw //" and then whatever the content of the post is that needs tagged. So for example, if you don't want to see insects? You can blacklist them on my blog using cw // insects and that should stop you from seeing anything with a number of legs you aren't comfortable with. This same format applies to all of my content warning tags. If there's anything more specific you need tagged? Don't be afraid to let me know. I'm happy to accommodate you wherever you need so long as it doesn't infringe upon my right to exist; If it's something that triggers you? Then it warrants being taken seriously.

》 WHO'S THE GUY IN YOUR ICON?

That would be my fursona, Circuit! He is me, I am him, I love showing him off to people so although the art may change? He's usually the face of my online pressence. Here's his current (slightly outdated, whoops) reference sheet that I made for him:

If you're curious, the art of him I have as my Tumblr icon currently (as of February 4th 2024) was a commission I got and is drawn by Pawtastic!

》 WOW, YOU TALK A LOT.

Sure do bud. Thank you for noticing! Want to hear me talk more? Then I have some sideblogs you can check out if you feel like it. fuzzypath is my Warriors sideblog (active) funky-fella is my Bugsnax sideblog (semi-active) canid-canon is my writing sideblog (WIP, inactive) I also have a NSFW sideblog dedicated to outright hornyposting, but respectfully I'm not sharing that here. If for whatever reason you'd like to see that? PM me privately to ask for it and if you're both 18+ (have your age clearly stated somewhere on your blog) and someone I trust to see it then I'll most likely give it to you!

[footprintsinthesxnd]

Operation Death Wish | Chapter 9

Previous Chapter Masterlist Next Chapter

Synopsis: Jake Seresin knew what it was like to lose people he loved, he’d been losing them his whole life. Yet in the midst of chaos as the world as he knew it ended Jake found somebody he never wanted to lose. But what if he’d already lost her. Warnings: swearing, dystopian descriptions, gore, death, violence, alien descriptions, fighting, sexual images, 18+ (minors dni), angst, some fluff at times.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ You couldn’t have left the medical wing faster, sprinting down the corridor and out of the emergency exit where you bent over, emptying your stomach onto the tarmac, spluttering and gagging. Your head was spinning. The doctor had done an ultrasound to check the baby and placed it at around 4 months old. He handed you a small sonogram picture which you’d immediately stuffed into your pocket, unable to look at it.

���Are you ok?” You groaned internally, this was the last person you wanted to talk to right now.

“Bradley,” you greeted him. He was leaning against the wall, his brown hair flopping over his eyes as he looked at you.

“I’m fine. Just stressed and relieved.” You told him, standing up straight and ignoring the gurgling of your stomach. Bradley just looked back at you, his head tilted to one side as if he was trying to think of something to say.

“You look good, Roo,” you used his nickname trying to create some spark of life behind those dull eyes that just stared back.

“You too,” he lied. You sighed, stepping closer to him.

“Bradley, this is stupid. You’ve moved on and so have I. Here,” you pulled the necklace that held your engagement ring around your neck and handed it to him. “There’s no point dragging this out any longer. Annie seems like a nice girl and she makes you happy. I don’t blame you for anything Roo, I never could. I’m happy for you and I hope you can be happy for me too.”

Bradley snorted, looking up from the ring to you. “I never pegged you as someone who dates assholes, but then what do I really know about you? Hell, for all I know you jumped into bed with him the first chance you got.” You went to interrupt him but he raised his hand. “I know about the baby. Mav sent me to check on you as you were taking so long and one of the nurses told me. I don’t care how it happened or whose kid it is, but I don’t want anything to do with it or you, ok? And I don’t want Annie to know about any of this, the engagement, the baby, us, none of it, ok?”

You’d never seen Bradley quite so serious and although you understood his pain you also couldn’t help the tears that welled in your eyes as your shoulders shook and you spluttered out an excuse to leave. You knew Bradley had his reason, he didn’t love you anymore and you didn’t love him, not in the same way at least, but you didn’t expect that reaction.

After your encounter with Bradley, you’d gone to have a hot shower, letting the water ease your aching body and you placed your hand on your nearly invisible bump, admiring it in the bathroom mirror. You could see the faces of your father, Jake and Bradley all circling your mind as you lay in bed, sleep evading you as you turned over the possibilities in your mind. Jake was still in the medical wing having his wounds properly cleaned and redressed while Natasha had gone to find her wife. You’d never met Sophie, but from what Nat said you felt like you’d get along. After a few more hours of trying to sleep with nothing you got up. There was no point lying around. You dressed hurriedly and made your way out into the sunshine, the warm rays hitting your skin, filling you with some much-needed hope. From across the housing complex, you could see Natasha and a woman chatting, they had a pram in front of them and you could only assume it was her wife. You walked over slowly, trying to decide whether to interrupt the couple's peace or just keep walking. Natasha must have spotted you because she ushered you over.

“Come meet my son,” she beckoned, dragging you towards the pram where the tiny infant was nestled inside. He had deep brown eyes and dark brown hair like Nat, he was almost the spitting image of her.

“Oh, Nat he’s perfect. What’s his name?” You leant over cooing to the baby, his little fist wiggling at you.

“His name is Adam,” Sophie chimed in and you looked up at her smiling.

“He’s beautiful.” Nat grinned proudly at her wife and son, her own little family.

“It’s nice to meet you too, Sophie. You have a beautiful family.”

Sophie nodded her head in agreement. “Thank you. I hear you will have a family of your own soon.”

The air caught in your throat as you tried to reply, you hadn’t expected Nat to tell anyone about the baby yet, especially as you hadn’t told Jake.

“I am,” you replied slowly, saying each word as the realisation kicked in.

“Well congratulations, a baby is wonderful news.”

“Who’s having a baby?” An all too familiar voice said from behind you, causing you to freeze. Nat looked at you, eyes wide as if she couldn’t believe you hadn’t told him.

“Oh, Nat has… her and her wife I mean.” You stumbled over your words and Jake looked at you confused and slightly worried.

“Yeah, I know that, it’s all she’s talked about. No, I mean who's going to have a family of their own soon.” You gulped looking between Natasha and Sophie for some kind of answer. Nat took this as her sign to go, ushering her wife and son away from the awkward situation and leaving you standing next to Jake in utter silence.

“Well?” Jake asked, you hadn’t realised before but he had a lollipop sticking out the edge of his mouth and he looked like a big kid. Your heart swelled at the sight, you loved Jake so much, but you had to tell him.

“Well… Jake, it’s… complicated… umm… well.” You stuttered over your words again. How could you just blurt out this life-changing information to a man that you had known for less than a year and had been in love with for even less?

“Darlin’,” Jake came closer, resting his hands on your shoulders and holding you steady. “You can tell me anything, ok? I can handle it.”

But could he handle this? You took a deep breath, closing your eyes to calm your thoughts.

“Jake, I think you need to sit down.” He obeyed, planting himself next to you on the old wooden bench, his big blue eyes gazing down at you with all the love in the world, and for a moment you felt like everything might be alright.

“Jake, I’m pregnant, I’m sorry,” you reeled off in one breath, glancing up at him as if he could have possibly understood what you just said.

“Come again?” He asked, you knew he heard you. here’ was no way he missed it, but trying to comprehend that he was a father was going to take a little more explaining.

“I’m pregnant, 4 months actually. It’s yours of course. Look Jake I know this is a shock, I didn’t plan for this either believe me, but this is happening. Now I understand if you don’t want this and I’m giving you full permission now to walk away, to be free of all this.”

Jake looked at you as if you’d grown an extra head.

“Are you kidding me? There is no chance in hell that I’d leave the mother of my child or my child for that matter.” Jake bent down on his knees, taking your hands in his. He rubbed your knuckles lovingly, “I know this isn’t exactly an ideal time and we didn’t plan for this but I love you so so much and I know we haven’t been together long and I know you're with Bradley but…”

“I’m not with Bradley, not anymore. He’s got someone else and I’m happy for him, but I don’t love him anymore, not like I love you.”

Jake grinned widely, his eyes gleaming with unshed tears. “I love you, (y/n) Mitchell.”

“I love you, Jake Seresin.” Jake stood and embraced you tightly, placing a delicate kiss on your forehead, and rubbing circles on the small of your back.

“It’s gonna be ok,” Jake whispered and you finally believed it. “I'm going to look after you both, no matter what. I promise.”

“Steady on there Lieutenant, she’s engaged.” The voice of Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell carried across the courtyard as he strode towards the embracing couple. “And she’s my daughter.” You could see the smirk on your father's face, he’d always enjoyed throwing around the fact that you were his daughter anytime a man was near you, even after your engagement.

Jake stepped back awkwardly, looking between you and your father. Pete looked between you both smiling at you, “how are you holding up, love.” He gave you a quick, tight hug before stepping away.

“I’m fine, Dad, the doctors checked me over…”

“And found out you’re pregnant, I know. Bradley told me and I hear I have this asshole to blame.” He glared at Jake who looked like a deer in headlights, you couldn’t decide if he was going to stand his ground or run, and honestly you couldn’t blame him. Your father may be small but he was formidable.

“Dad, I can explain…”

“Yes, you can. In my office. Now!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Taglist: @wkndwlff @a-reader-and-a-writer @callsign-phoenix @imjess-themess @averyhotchner @mayhem24-7forever @callsignmaverick5 @ssprayberrythings @smoothdogsgirl @xoxabs88xox @luckyladycreator2 @abaker74 @elenavampire21 @classyunknownlover @okiegirl24 @flashyourgreeneyesatme @airedale17 @shadowolf993 @flyboyjake @topguncultleader @callmemana @marchingicenotes7 @t-nd-rfoot @shanimallina87 @emorychase @jstarr86 @starkleila @flames-thebitch

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

[sandrayprotector]

Ray from the perspective of an addict and mentally ill person

TW // addiction, death, depression, self-harm, drug abuse

Addiction from the POV of a [former] addict (prescription medicine, alcohol, deodorant, self-harm) and the parallels to Ray and his behavior.

I'll be totally open and vulnerable here, I'll be honest about my experiences and about the pros and cons which I have lived through. And I will be drawing the parallels between my former behavior and how Ray acts and pointing out why he might act certain ways and I'll give you the POV of someone who lost a loved one to addiction as well.

So please proceed with caution ⚠️

What is addiction? When does it start?

Clinically there is a perfect definition for that. It is an illness (yet many don't seem to view it as that)

But personally I can't really tell you the moment, the one thing that made me realize I'm an addict.

It's a slow process and that's making it so hard to realize.

I've been on ADHD meds since i was 7 years old, hence didn't really have the chance of a sober life from the start. I was misdiagnosed, the ADHD pills didn't really do much for me other than make me addicted and give me a cushion that wrapped me, shielding me from my own feelings.

Once that cushion was taken away from me, I spiraled. I was 11 years old. I tried to find something new, something to deal with my newly found emotions, something to deal with some trauma I've experienced in that time and I started abusing ibuprofen(which I found In my parents drawer) and started self-harming (which as well can be classed as addiction).

I started drinking when I was 12, black out drunk the first time when I was 13, the same time I started smoking cigarettes. As I said, I never really had a sober life. At age 14 I started using deodorant, the spray ones, inhaling the toxines. It helped me - for 30 minutes. Deodorant is so, so dangerous you can die, the first time you're using it. It's not some soft drug or anything it's life threatening and 4 of my friends went into the hospital because of it. I was "lucky" enough it never happened to me, maybe it should have maybe I had stopped.

At age 15/16 my excessive alcohol consume finally caught the eye of my little brother, begging me to stop come home pissed drunk nearly everyday. I didn't listen, I thought I had everything under control or didn't want to admit I fell in a rabbit hole. I was on 4 different anti-depressants at that time, the addiction already had taken a toll on me, and my mental health declined further. Anti-depressants and Alcohol are a toxic combination, it wasn't a very bright time.

This went on until I was 18 and had it's peak when I was 19, living alone with my boyfriend (at that time) for the first time in my life. Waking up, drinking 1 Liter of box red wine, smoking a cigarette, taking my pills, go out, drink more, abuse deodorant, pass out, repeat. In between self-harm was still something I used to control my feelings. and I don't really have many memories of that time it's all just a big blur. My family and friends had distanced from me for a while at that point. I was a burden, didn't listen to them, began being verbally violent towards them and even physically violent at some point. I was a horrible person.

I had a turning point when I turned 20, I found a person willing to put up with me, reaching their hand out to me, willing to help and destroy themselves in the run. Well it wasn't all sunshine in the beginning we abused alcohol and w33d together, getting high almost everyday, it was like a ritual for both of us. The only positive outcome was that my self-harming became less and less over time. I stopped using my anti-depressants (never NEVER do that like me without going to a doctor). And my life seemed to get better.

I started getting horror trips from the w33d and stopped using it. I started to get pretty heavy hangovers from the alcohol my body was at a point where it began to crumble. And finally, my mind snapped and I realized I needed to change ( after having lost almost all my friends and family) after destroying my body to a point where I still to date have problems. I was 22 at that point.

I got into therapy and worked my way out.

I'm still an addict, I still think about almost all the time. When i drink alcohol it's very hard to stop myself from over-drinking, I still self-harm, still take more ibuprofen than prescribed but I'm good, as far as i can be. Addiction is hell, it's messing up your life and leaves you with a blur of memories that don't feel like they're yours. It takes a toll on your body and mind. It's really like burning in hell fire.

The POV of someone who lost a loved one to addiction

I was 13 when my first love overdosed on heroin. He was the very first person who genuinely showed me love, told me I was perfect the way I was.

I got to know him when I was 11, after I was assaulted in a Park. He was 12 at the time, turning 13 shortly after.

He already was smoking and drinking when I got to know him. And looking back it seems that we spiraled together, he fell harder than I did.

He used weed for the first time on his 13th birthday. and on his 14th birthday he was already addicted to Heroin.

We had great times together, I loved him unconditionally. We weren't together (we never got together) but we cared for each other deeply. It was a love on another level something that only comes once in a lifetime.

He changed. Not only his looks ; he got more skinny, his eyes (beautiful eyes, so beautiful) were sunken in, his skin was ashy etc. But his personality changed as well. He was still a wonderful person, still caring, still the perfect boy (in my eyes). But he was careless, his life didn't seem to mean much to him anymore. He was rarely sober, rarely able to stand or walk straight. He was tired all the time, and if he was on turkey ( withdrawal) he became unbearable, even violent at times.

It was heaven and hell being close to him. Like Ikarus burning his wings on the sun honestly. And I was only a child as well, I was only 11, 12, 13...

You can only do so much when someone you love struggles with addiction and I was an active addict myself, even though I wasn't aware of it at that time. I was a heavy drinker, self-harmed. We were so toxic for each other, so, so toxic.

And the sad part was that no one noticed. No one noticed us spiraling, his fresh needle marks in the arms. Or they turned a blind eye, kept telling themselves that everything was alright, I don't know.

His aunt (he didn't live with his parents) saw him as burden, told him he was a burden to her and her family. He took that to his heart. He often cried because he asked himself what he did wrong to be treated like that. We (me and his best friend) didn't have an answer for him.

When he turned 16, I didn't know that it would be the last birthday we would be celebrating together - only 3 days later he was dead. He only had the chance to be 16 for 3 days. 16 years and 3 days. I knew him for 3 years and 2 weeks.

I found him. He overdosed in a dirty bathroom, all alone. There was no one there to help him. And I blame myself till now (14 years later) that if I had arrived just a few minutes earlier, if I had slept over like I had promised the day before, he would still be here.

I've never been to his grave, I didn't go to his funeral. I physically can't.

I miss him so damn much, every day.

And the worst is that not even that stopped me from my addictions, it didn't make me realize that I was slowly approaching the same fate. I would say it made it worse, on my 14th birthday I smoked weed for the first time, 2 month after his death. And I only spiraled from there.

He wasn't the best and most loyal friend. He was an idiot at times, angry and violent at others. He stole multiple times from me, because he didn't have enough money to feed his addiction. He picked fights, randomly without reasoning and very uncalled for.

But he was my idiot. Mine. Maybe I can't be objective when talking about him. Maybe my lingering feelings want me to see him in a better light.

I did suffer a lot in this friendship, wanted to call it quits often. I even told him once or twice that he's destroying me, but I won't ever leave him.

I found a letter after I found him. I still keep that letter. "Princess, I needed to die so you can live." i never hated him more than in that moment. But now that I'm an adult, I understand that maybe he was right.

I'm sorry for rambling, sorry for making you read this confession/cry idk what to call it.

I loved an addict, I loved a wonderful boy who took one false turn. I lost an addict, I lost the shell of the wonderful who Nico once was.

Parallels between my experience/behavior and Ray's in only friends

Okay let's look at Ray's background.

The first parallel I want to point out is Trauma.

Ray's Mother's Death - drinking to death

In my case it was a friend overdosing in front of my eyes, I found him just like Ray did with his mother

I was 11 turning 12, I think Ray was around that same age, maybe a year or 2 older.

My friend died age 16 with a needle in his arm. Addiction and death don't know age.

Okay so, 1st point, experiencing trauma at a young age.

2nd from what I saw Ray didn't really get help with his trauma, just the same as me, driving him to depression (more severely). If you have no help, especially at that age, you WILL spiral

3rd :

Your friends start to distance themselves (which is their right in some way)

My friends dealt with me the same ways Ray's friends deal with him. They tried, they really did try to help me, but they were just teenagers/young adults themselves

You can't expect someone that age to help an addict.

BUT what they and my friends could've done, would be sending us to a psych ward, you can do that if it's a life threatening situation, which Ray is in and which I was in as well.

4th

Anger issues when being drunk.

Most of the time we see Ray as this cute puppy with big eyes, but the moment he drinks, he has violent tendency.

Which I can just say I did as well. Alcohol doesn't numb you, it brings your feelings to the surface

Feelings you've bottled up deep inside, trying to numb them with other things (in Ray's case probably c0c4ine, in my case deodorant)

5th

Being clingy to strangers

this may surprise you but I can totally get why Ray clinged to Sand after he helped him that one time.

You're just such a sucker for human interaction, physical touch, feeling worthy, you really don't care from where you get it

In my case even though I am asexual I slept around a lot at that time, trying to get that little bit of love no one could give me

And seeing how Ray acts, it's the same for him as well

6th

Manipulation

Yes Ray is manipulative, not in the way Boston is, but still.

He knows how to get what he wants and knows exactly what to do to reach his goal.

As an an addict your life basically becomes a lie at one point or the other.

You lie to yourself, the people around you, and sometimes even build your own world in which you can enable yourself.

And all of that while being 40% aware of what you're doing (Ray knows exactly how to get Sand to do what he wants)

7th

Playing it down

"Just for the little sip"

"I'm a light weight"

"I'm not that drunk"

Constantly playing down the severity of the problem is something I did as well and we've seen it from Ray more than once.

8th

crying for help but don't actually want help

Ray not once but multiple times basically cried for help, not only the obvious (bathtub scene) but the time when he told Sand why his mother died, just when he poured alcohol, the times he claimed he's just a burden and so on. All of those are indirectly cries for help, yet no one notices.

And I promise even if they would try to help, Ray would just turn it down. Because why would he want to lose something that helps him get through life.

I was the same

Addiction isn't black and white. It's often Grey. Addiction can be your best friend and worst nightmare.

Addiction isn't something you can battle alone, and the battle will never stop.

It's even more dangerous if you have other mental issues as well

Ray definitely suffers from depression and maybe a personality disorder. Anxiety could also be a possibility, that guy is severely sick.

As in my case I have a few diagnosis, borderline, anxiety and depression being the most severe.

Being in Ray's shoes is not an easy walk. It's exhausting, it's pulling you down. And I can totally relate to his su1cidal tendencies because I was at that point more than once as well.

It's hell being an addict, even more so when your whole social bubble basically enables your behavior (Ray's Friends do that, mine did as well)

And it's so easy pulling everyone down the hole with you. Everyone will burn themselves on you, they will get hurt.

You can't expect a healthy relationship to someone with a severe addiction, they're toxic and they will kick you out of your comfortable life.

But they're sick and they need help, not beating them down when they're already on the ground.

I hope I could give you a little more insight and if you have questions please don't shy away and ask me whatever you want 🥺🥰

You're worthy, you're strong, you're amazing, I'm proud of you and wish you nothing but the best in life

[paingoes]

Destroyer - Check Up

(Masterlist)

long time no simon

(Content: abuse apologism, non-sexual nudity, child abuse mention, child death mention, drug mention, insensitivity around addiction, brief weight mention)

=======================

“Follow the light,” Dr.Martino turned the flash on. Delta traced its path with his eyes. He blinked out the afterimage against his eyelids. He jumped a little as the doctor pulled his hair back, tying it up in a loose knot for him.

“Stand.”

Delta got up from the table. It was a fairly standard routine at this point; he didn’t need to be told what to do. Except — he didn’t understand why Simon was there. The scientist was leaning back against the bookshelf, not saying anything. Delta felt a little tug of embarrassment as he pulled his shirt up over his head. He didn’t want Simon to see all of it. 

Delta wouldn’t dare hesitate around Dr.Martino, though. Martino knew he wouldn’t. He had known him the longest and was least likely to play games with him. He shrugged the shirt off, folding it neatly onto the table. He removed the loose fabric of his pants until he was standing mostly nude within the cold office. It would have been typical, almost boring — if not for the fact Simon was there, if not for the litany of bruises marked out on his body. 

He was ashamed of it. Dr.Martino’s gloved hand traced gently against the bruises. Some of their shapes were still imprinted clearly onto the flesh. A cable, a ring, a ruler. Not all of it was deserved, even Delta knew that. Paris had gotten out of control. But there was enough of it that he felt he had earned and it made him distressed to have the marks of his own failures so visible against his body. He didn’t want Simon to see it. 

Dr.Martino did some quick measurements. Delta was sure he’d lost weight recently, mostly from stress. The doctor examined the faint scarring around his neck, the afterburns of his own powers nearly frying the collar. 

He dimmed the lights. The soft pale glow of the X-ray equipment stood out against their dark surroundings. Martino guided him into one of the machines, instructing him to stay still. He did so. It moved with a soft mechanical whirr, maneuvering its parts deftly around his frame. 

“You can go,” Dr.Martino switched the machine off.

“Yes, sir,” Delta nodded, stepping outside of its confines. He pulled his clothes back on quickly, left his hair tied up. He exited without looking at either of them.

Dr.Martino carded through the X-rays, putting them all atop the table light. Simon shifted slightly.

“He’s been pretty banged up recently, hm?” He said.

“The psionics are designed to work under high stress. They can take a lot of abuse.” Dr.Martino shrugged.

“You don’t think Paris has a problem?”

“Paris has plenty of problems.” He scoffed. “Christ, I’m glad I never had a son.”

Simon still looked uneasy. Martino sighed, putting the papers down.

“You’re giving him more sympathy than he deserves. That kid is a menace. He always has been.”

“You really think so?” Simon’s voice was surprised, but not judgemental, “He’s always been so good for me.”

“I don't like sneaky. None of the actual good kids made it out of the institute. I used to have favorites, you know. Turns out the ones with an actual conscience don’t fare so well when it's time to drop the bomb. Nine times out of ten, he was the one they sent to deal with them.”

“You’re joking,” Simon balked, “I didn’t know they killed the rejects.”

“Oh, not all of them. A lot of them did get rehomed when they burnt out. But the hostile, powerful ones had to be destroyed. There was this one girl Stella — super nice kid. But when they tried to make her kill the animals, she’d freak out, start getting all mad. Ended up injuring all her handlers. So they sent Delta in. Crushed her like an insect. No hesitation. No emotion at all.”

He paused. “Of course, that’s what they were looking for. That’s why you have to treat him like an object. If he starts to value his own feelings, it all falls apart.”

The silence hung in the air. Simon glanced out the port window. 

“Sometimes I remember the last person in my position blew their brains out,” He says.

Dr.Martino laughed. It had caught him off-guard. Simon smiled, but it looked more like a grimace.

“I still think Paris is being too rough with him. It’s against his own interest.”

“His Highness is a fucking junkie. He doesn’t know his own interests.”

“That’s what I’m saying. He needs help.”

“Are you going to say something to him then?”

Simon didn’t answer, readjusting his cuffs with no real sense of urgency.