#rip all the ibuprofen i take

[batmanfan3492]

Me, trying to explain to my doctor why I need help with my period: yeah I go through a few maxis.

Doctor: through the week? 😀

Me: through the day.

[fatalhoon]

had the cutest dream abt jisung ☹️☹️ then my cramps woke me up and here i fucking am

[cjlouwho]

Uncle Eddie

(ao3 link)

Buck was going to rip his hair out. Every single hair on his head was going to come out and he was sure it would provide relief from the screaming that was currently happening in his ear.

Juniper was six months, teething, and screaming. Blood curdling screaming that had been nearly nonstop for the last five hours.

“I'll try the teether again,” Tommy said, hurrying into the kitchen to grab it from the freezer.

“She hates it,” Buck replied. “She hated it the last two times we tried it, she's gonna hate it this time.”

“Well, what would you like me to try, Evan?” And maybe the question came out a little more bitingly than he intended. “We've done a wet washcloth, a cold spoon, multiple teethers.”

A wail cut through his words.

“We could try the drops?”

Buck shot him a glare. “You mean those natural oil drops that lady convinced us to buy at the store?”

Tommy knew where this was going. “Yes, those are the ones.”

“The ones we bought instead of the infant ibuprofen?”

“Evan.”

“The drops we've tried two times that Juniper has thrown up with two times?”

“I'm really just running out of solutions here, Hun.”

“You can take those drops, find that lady, and shove them directly up her a-”

“Okay, no to the drops.”

“I need you to stop trying to find solutions,” Buck snapped, “and start helping me.”

“I'm trying to help by finding solutions, Evan, so our daughter will stop crying.”

“Well you're not doing a very good job.”

The crying, somehow, became even louder then. Juniper's tiny hands balled into fists on Buck's shirt. Her snot and tears soaking through the material.

Buck groaned. He could feel the tears stinging his own eyes. He was so overwhelmed. So exhausted. He just needed the crying to stop for a minute. Needed to know she was breathing properly and comfortable and safe.

Tommy closed his eyes, took a deep breath. He moved closer to Buck, placing a hand on his lower back. “Let me hold her,” he said, his voice calmer now, less defensive.

Buck stilled, then let himself melt into the touch. His head dropped down over Juniper's, holding onto her tightly. “I don't- don't know what to do,” he admitted, his lip trembling.

“I know. I don't either.” Tommy rubbed Buck's back soothingly. Let him cry, let Juniper cry, let himself feel the exhaustion of the day. And maybe this is what Buck meant when he asked Tommy to stop finding solutions- just help.

A knock on the door brought them out of their not-so-silent pity party. Juniper unlatched herself from Buck, so he handed her over to Tommy. “I'll get it,” he said, wiping the tears from his face.

He opened the door to Eddie, who's smile dropped almost immediately.

“You look terrible,” he said with a grimace.

“Hello to you too.”

“No, seriously, you look terrible.”

Buck couldn't even find it in him to be offended. He knew he looked terrible. Knew there was spit up and tears and snot all over his clothes. Knew he needed a shower and a shave. Knew he and Juniper had both taken turns pulling at his hair. Knew his face was red and a stray tear or two was probably still falling down his face.

“Why're you here, Eddie?”

Eddie stepped inside, moving around Buck to get in. “Can't a guy come visit his niece?” he asked.

“Not sure you want to today,” Tommy said as Eddie walked into the living room. He was bouncing her slightly, one hand on her head, the other under her butt as she wiggled and screamed.

“Phew. She's got a set of lungs on her.” Eddie moved in closer, taking Juniper's hand in his, “Don't ya, girl? Yeah, you're a strong girl.” He looked back up at Tommy. “Teething?”

He nodded.

“Mm.” Without another word, Eddie headed into the kitchen. He went to the sink and scrubbed his hands with soap before going back over to Tommy.

“Let me see her,” he said, holding out his hands.

“Eddie, she's just gonna scream-”

“Let me see her,” he repeated.

Tommy sighed, stared at him for a moment, then lifted Juniper off his chest. He gave her a kiss on her tear stained cheek before handing her over.

“Hey, Junie,” Eddie spoke softly, a smile on his face as he held the little girl in his arms, “it's Uncle Eddie.”

She stopped crying briefly, long enough to get a look at him, before it began again. Not as harsh this time, but still a cry.

Buck moved in take her, but Eddie put his pointer finger to her mouth. She latched onto it quickly, biting down to get pressure on her gums.

The crying stopped.

Both Buck and Tommy froze. Tommy counted to twenty in his head. That was as far as he had gotten since she'd woken up that morning.

“Oh my God,” Buck breathed out. He brought his hands to his head, running his fingers through his hair. He couldn't believe it. “Oh my God.”

“That's all we had to do?” Tommy asked. “Shove a finger in her mouth?”

Eddie shrugged. “Shannon used to tell me it was the only thing that worked for Christopher. She probably wouldn't have stopped crying for you guys though. Babies can tell when you're tense.”

Buck watched Juniper closely. “I'm going to ignore how utterly unsanitary this is-”

“I washed my hands!” Eddie interjected.

“and enjoy the silence.”

“You're never allowed to leave,” Tommy decided. “You have to quit your job or chop of your finger or something.”

Eddie let out a laugh, but stopped when he realized just how serious both Buck and Tommy looked. “Okay, you both have officially lost it.” He nodded toward the bedroom. “You two go get showers, take a nap, I don't wanna see either of you for at least three hours.”

“But-”

Eddie cut off Buck's protest. “I've watched her before, guys. I've got this. I know how to fix her formula, I've changed the diapers. We'll go for a walk, have tummy time, discuss using inside voices so we don't drive daddies to commit crimes like chopping friends fingers off.” He smiled down at Juniper, then back up at the boys. “We'll be fine. Plus, you'll be right here if I need you. Go.”

Both boys stared at him, like they weren't exactly sure what to do.

“Oh my God, go!” Eddie practically demanded this time.

“Just- Just a couple hours,” Buck decided.

“Three,” Eddie repeated. “I mean it.”

Buck was too tired to argue.

Tommy could already see himself sinking into the bed.

They both gave Juniper a little kiss to the top of her head before heading to the bedroom.

That's when Tommy remembered why Eddie actually came over. He turned around in the doorway, his eyes wide. “We were supposed to watch the match.”

Eddie shook his head, stopping Tommy from coming back out to the living room. “I've got my buddy for that already,” he said, peering down at Juniper, who was already starting to fall asleep in Eddie's arms. “You're never too young to learn about a proper uppercut.”

“Oh, she's already got that down,” Tommy replied, a tired smile on his face. “Thanks, Eddie.”

“Anytime. Go to bed.”

Eddie went to the couch as Tommy shut the bedroom door. He turned on the TV, keeping the volume low. Juniper's eyes began to close, snuggling close to Eddie. “I know we made a deal when you were born where you drive your daddies crazy and I get to watch,” he whispered to her, “but I thought you'd at least wait until you were two.”

It only took fifteen minutes for Juniper's little snores to match up with the loud ones coming from Tommy and Buck's room.

[xhoneygirlxx]

he's not magic

eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: the time of the month has come and Eddie is the only person who can sooth you.

warnings: talks about menstrual cycles/blood. mentions of dying. tooth rotting fluff. Eddie is a cutie pie. pet names used; sweetheart, baby, honey. shitty writing/spelling errors; if you find any plz ignore it lolololololol.

a/n: i'm currently in so much pain from my period and the only thing i want is for someone to coddle me and tell me i'm going to be ok. i hope you guys enjoy this very small thing, it's not much and it's not good but maybe it'll help you feel good on those days when life is shit. love you all <3

--

You're dying, a slow, painful, and mournful death. At this point you stopped caring, stopping all the begging you've done all morning for your life to continue. If this was how you were going out than so be it, you just wished your end had come faster.

You've already bled through two pairs of panties and two pairs of shorts, now left in your trusty period panties and an oversized shirt. Your stomach was bloated to the point it was uncomfortable, your breasts were so swollen that your chest felt like it was going to concave under the weight, and your back felt as if it was going to snap in half at any moment.

It felt like you tried everything, ibuprofen, heating pad, and propping a pillow in between your legs - none of the tricks worked. Now you were left in the fetal position, arms wrapped around your middle and knees pulled to your chest.

For the past how ever many hours you've been moaning out in pain, the stabbing feeling in your uterus just too much to handle. You're sure if someone were to walk in and see you they'd think you were insane and right now you couldn't blame them.

You did look insane, hair wild and matted to your face from all the sweat you've accumulated, voice hoarse and scratchy from all the wounded animal sounds you've made, and your face screwed up in an unflattering way.

Your phone has gone unanswered all day, the only person to have texted you was Eddie. At first it was only tik toks, small comments he thought would make you giggle, and then it turned into him updating you about his day at work, and finally worried questions about if you were okay.

You felt so fucking guilty for not responding, not telling him that you were fine but you just physically couldn't move from your crouched position. This only made you angrier, the fact that your temporarily paralyzed and are restricted from doing the things you need to do.

The fridge sits empty and in need of new groceries, laundry stays piled up by the washer where they wait to be cleaned, and Eddie is waiting for your response worrying about your well being - that is if he hasn't already contacted the national guard to track your location.

Everything is so shitty, the pain, the hurting, the guilt, the frustration. You feel like you're a balloon that's been filled up too much and is waiting to burst at the seams.

You don't have to take long before the heated tears from your eyes fall down, hitting the bridge of your nose, only to land on the pillow beneath your head. It's not a violent cry, at least not yet, just frustrated tears that seem to slip away from their barricade.

You don't even notice the front door of your apartment opening or the sound of Eddie calling for your name, only focusing on the pulsating of your uterus that debilitates your body.

"Fuck, baby I've been worried about you," You don't even turn and look at him, your eyes are still harshly closed. By the sound of his voice you know he's out of breath, brown curls probably wild from the speed of his running.

"Shit, sweetheart, are you okay?" The worry in his voice hits right on the spiderweb crack, shattering you into a million little pieces.

You can't hold it back, the wailing that rips from your throat is something close to bone chilling. Tears streams from your eyes without relent, whole body shaking from the cries that rip from your body.

It doesn't take more than thirty seconds to feel the bed dip as your boyfriend crawls into bed next to you. He doesn't think twice before pulling you in, one arm wrapped around your back and the other soothing down your hair on the side of your head.

"It's okay, baby. M'here, you're okay." Eddie coos and it's like music to your ears.

The warmth from his body fills you in a way your heating pad couldn't. Even with the mucus that fills your nose you catch a whiff of his scent, smoke, pine, and outside -undoubtedly him. His calloused hand runs soothingly up and down your back, allowing your bones to relax into his touch.

Eddie doesn't have to ask, he knows you better than you know yourself, and the way your scrunched up on your bed and crying he knows that you've been battling your pain all day.

"Sweetheart, you have to breath. Can you do that for me? Take one big deep breath, s'all I want, okay?"

You nod your head against his chest, following the way his chest moves as he demonstrates for you. Between hiccupped breaths and streaming tears, you allow your lungs to fill up with as much air as you can take in, releasing it right after in one long exhale.

"Good job, baby. Did such a good job f'me." Eddie's being soft with you, a side of him he only allows you to see and no one else.

You let his praise melt over you, soaking it right up like the plants in a drought. For the first time since you woke up you feel lighter, something you only feel when Eddie's by you. The cramps that have been going nonstop have finally subsided, the presence of your boyfriend scaring them away.

"It hurt so bad, Eds. S'really bad today." Your voice is shaky, as if one wrong move and you can break out into another sob.

"I know, honey, but it's okay. I'm gonna take care of you, kay? I'm gonna make it all better."

You both know that he has no control over what your body decides to do but just the promise alone has your worries easing away. Your body relaxes into him, your knees slowly falling down to their normal position until your laying right up against him.

"On a scale from one to ten, where are you at?" You take a moment to think about it, really evaluating the squeezing of your organs.

"Was a ten but now it's like a seven."

Eddie hums, his hand still soothing up and down your back. A small pause settles over his words, like he's trying to wrack his brain for the next action he's going to make so you can feel better.

"How 'bout you get some rest, then when you get up we'll get you something to eat? Sound okay?" You nod again, too tired to form any sort of response.

Eddie acknowledges your response with a kiss to the top of your head, making you hum in content when he does. It doesn't take long for the tiredness of your body to settle over you, quiet snores coming from your nose in no time.

Even if his arms fall asleep and his back feels stiff, Eddie stays there with you, soothing you in your sleep to ensure that your pain stays at bay. When you do wake up he's right there, waiting for you with some water and more medicine before helping you into the shower.

He's not magic and he has no idea what to do when it comes to woman's health but Eddie Munson will be damned if a period makes his girl cry like that again.

---

[luveline]

baby blurb of sirius looking after sick shy!reader pleaseeee. I miss him and my throat is killing me today :((

thank u for ur request! feel better soon<3 fem!reader

"Let me see," Sirius says. 

You stare at him. 

"Open up. I wanna see if you have ulcers." 

"Sirius," you say, your voice shaking with the hoarseness that accompanies a bad throat intertwined with the nervousness of having someone so handsome this close to your face, "we both know I'm not going to let you look in my mouth." 

"But you'd let me put my tongue in there?" 

You flush with a heat that has nothing to do with your flu. "We all make mistakes." 

Sirius smirks at you. It's a very charming expression on him, as is the quirk of a slender brow as he pulls his legs onto the bed and crosses them. 

Elbows on his knees, face in his palms, he looks out of place on your white sheets. Black jeans, black t-shirt with a tasteful rip from shoulder to pec, black hair a glossy, messy siren call, and all his dull black piercings. He has a stray wave splayed against his cheek that you want to push behind his ear. His stubble would scratch your thumb. 

"If that's how you feel," he murmurs, though he makes no effort to move. 

"Do you think I'll be ill forever?" you ask. 

"Likely. Don't worry, gorgeous. I'll take care of you forever." 

You bite your tongue where it's pushed against the inside of your bottom lip, your eyes softening at his promise. He's joking, sure, but he leans forward to rub your knee and inner thigh, startling you despite the layers of blankets between your bare skin and his. 

His head remains in his palm, propped up casually, so your shock swiftly fades. This is just Sirius being Sirius.

"What will I do with you?" he asks sympathetically. 

"Not much." 

He scratches a hand through his hair. "Now, why are you talking about my girl like that? Being poorly is no excuse." 

You're laying back in a mountain of Sirius-sanctioned pillows and cushions, Sirius to your left, a box of things he'd brought for you to your right. The necessities: super soft aloe vera tissues, decongestants, paracetamol and ibuprofen (an ultimate combination). The treats: new fluffy socks, chocolates you can't yet eat, a blanket one thousand times softer than the tissues, and a teddy bear that 'looks like you', apparently. 

"You're probably too good to me," you say softly. 

"Or I'm the right amount." Sirius straightens, groans, and drops into the cushions beside you. "You're very, very lovely, even when you're as sick as a dog. I think you should know that," he says, his tone ringing with a sincerity that makes your eyes ache worse than they already do. "And you're like, insane levels of gorgeous. I'm not kidding when I say–" 

He pauses as you raise your hand. You settle it sluggishly over his pretty mouth, feeling it curl upward. "Sh," you say, too tired to fluster at his praises. 

"You're beautiful," he says quietly into your hand. 

Sirius' fingertips trace the slopes of your body. Not sexual but inherently intimate, he draws a path from the fat of your upper thigh to your ribs where your blankets end. He pulls them higher. 

"You really won't let me look at your throat?" he asks. 

"No, but… maybe you can make us a cup of tea?" you suggest shyly. 

Sirius leans forward, pressing a short, firm kiss to your chapped lips. "For you? A-ny-thing." Two more quick kisses. "Don't go anywhere." 

Sirius is jogging down the stairs by the time you find the energy to call, albeit weakly, "I can't stand up!" 

"I was joking! Christ, it's worse than I thought. I havta get you to a doctor." 

That time, you catch the sarcasm. 

[fanon-elio]

Can I request a fluffy where Lycaon takes care of the reader with menstrual cramps? I need comfort, I can't stand the pain anymore. (⁠´⁠°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥⁠ω⁠°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥⁠｀⁠)

Absolutely! I hope you'll get better soon!

-•*Lycaon taking care of Reader with menstrual cramps*•-

Tag: Green Letter (Sfw)

Warnings: none

Not proofread.

It was such a beautiful day outside. The sun was shining, bringing a strong vibrancy to the City. But as everyone was out and about, getting that healthy dose of vitamine D, you were sitting in your apartment. Fucking miserable.

You'd love to go outside to catch some of those healthy rays of light, but right now you had other troubles as you lay around with your bodily anatomy bullying you relentlessly.

Ah yes, it was that time of the month again, where your period knocked on your door like a fucking loan shark ready to collect your dept. Normally your period cramps weren't something your trusty friend the Ibuprofen couldn't handle, but not today it seems.

This time your cramps were really bad.

You felt like you swallowed glass shards, and then stumbled down a flight of stairs. Your back ached, your thighs ached, and your lower abdomen hurt like shit. It was as if your uterus had a vendetta against you, slowly beating you up from the inside as every stinging shot of pain was basically it asking "where's the Baby bitch?"

Even just getting your morning routine done had been a fight! Not just because your shower had looked like after one. The warm water had felt absolutely wonderfull as it eased your pain, but all was ruined by the smell of blood that made you immensly uncomfortable. You cringed when you remembered how you basically turned your poor shower into a saw trap.

'I want to play a game' you can fuck right off!

After calling in sick for work, getting into a fresh pair of sweatpants, and equipping yourself with a warm water bottle, you plopped down on your sofa where you had remained for pretty much the entire morning as you watch some repetitive game show. You sigh, feeling that the bottle had lost its warming, and thus pain relieving attributes again. But you weren't willing to shrimp-walk your way back into the kitchen to boil some more water, so instead you just readied yourself to perish.

Then a knock on your door caught your attention. You sighed as you buried your face in your sofa cussion, internally preparing yourself for the stranious task of 'standing up.' You throw your blanket over yourself, completing your accidental witch cosplay before strudding over to the front door to greet the unfortunate Hensel or Gretel, who would now unwillingly become a victim of your justified bad mood.

You rip the door open, expecting one of your neighbors asking your for eggs or some shit, but come face to face with Lycaon's fluffy white fur. You purse your lips, trying to process the current situation as both of you just stared at eachother for a moment "good morning y/n" he speaks, a tinge of uncertainty in his voice at your current vibe "a-ah. Hi Lycaon! How are you doing?" You ask, embarassment creeping onto your face which was almost as red as... well you already know.

"I am well, but you seem quite beside you" he says, and you wondered if the bags under your eyes, or your awkward posture had given you away. "Oh no no I'm totally fine!" You exclaim, he just looks you up and down before sighing. "I brought you something, maybe it'll lift your mood?" He gestures to the box under his arm, and you relent, stepping to the side as a silent way of inviting him in which gains you a polite little "thank you" from him.

On one hand you could drop to your knees in prayer for the fact that this fine-as-hell-man came to check on you, but on the other you felt mortified of your friend turned crush witnessing you in such a state.

"Just know that it's an absolute mess in here" you warn him, and wince like a vampire as he opened the curtains. You make your way towards the kitchen, feeling like a terrible host for not having offered him any real hospitality "Would you like something to drink? Water? Tea? ...Vodka?" He tries to speak up as he watched you awkwardly try to reach for the box of tea in your upper cuppboard, dispite your current rather pitiful form. He looks around the room, noticing the previously mentioned dissaray before he approaches, wanting to stop you before you try climbing on your kitchen counter. He sets the box down on the counter next to you, his pressence behind you halting your actions before he puts a hand on your shoulder "why don't you go lie down?" He asks softly in your ear, and you blush at his closeness.

You opened your mouth, wanting to object, but he was having none of that. He bend down a little before sweeping you off your feet, carying you back to the sofa, and sitting you down on it before covering you in blankets and pillows. You look up at him, while he raised his eyebrow as a silent way of telling you to 'stay.'

Accepting your fate, you lean back and cast your eyes back on the TV while he tidies up your livingroom a bit. It still felt a bit awkward to have Lycaon dote over you like that, but it also made butterflies erupt in your stomach. You doze off for a moment, before you feel the sofa tip as Lycaon sat down next to you. He hands you a water bottle wrapped in a dish cloth, warning you of its temperatur before sitting the box in his lab and lifting the lid off.

To your surprise, it was filled with your favorite snacks, painkillers, different flavours of tea, and a heapful of movies. "Damn! You came prepared alright" you tell him, noticing they way his ear twitched. You grab one of the movies from the box and looked at it "Pork peak huh? Didn't know your liked horror movies" you joked, and he chuckled "I picked these up at Random play earlier, I'm friends with the managers there so they gave me a discount" you nodded, the warmth of the bottle in your hands soothing the stinging ache in your abdomen.

But the more you thought about the box and the water bottle, the more you wondered how he knew to prepare all of this. You haven't told him about your cramps, so how did he know? "How did you know to prepare all of this?" You ask. Lycaon turns his head to you before clearing his throat "I uhm... I could smell it. The blood I mean" he explains, averting his gaze. Your face was burning, internally facepalming yourself for forgetting that he was infact a Wolf thiren, so of course his sense of smell was superb. "Everyone has a distinct smell, and I had noticed yours changing a week prior" he explains "I hope you don't think of me as a creep now" he says, but you pull the big oaf into a hug "no, not at all. I think it's really sweet of you!" He returned your embrace, and you could hear the sound of Lycaon's tail thumbing against the sofa.

"I uhm... just hope the smell doesn't bother you" you start, but he stops you "please, there is no need to worry" he reassures you "the smell of blood doesn't bother me." Lycaon grabbs the tea from the box before making his way back to the kitchen. You turn around and lean over the arm of the sofa, watching him as he stood in your kitchen preparing a pot of tea for the both of you.

Your eyes wandered from him to his vest that layed neatly folded over one of your kitchen chairs. At first you had assumed that he had actually taken a day off for once, but scratched that thought because if he really did, he wouldn't be here in work attire. "I hope you don't mind me asking..." you start, watching his ear rotate towards you as a sign that he was listening "what about work?" You ask, watching him remove the tea filter "I don't mind don't worry, I had just gotten off my night shift, and have the rest of the day off" he replied. "And since I had been in the area anyways, I thought I might pay you a visit" he lies, unbeknownst to you. In reality he had been looking foreward to spending time with you, even if his commission had been on the other side of the city. You smiled, looking at the box sitting on your coffee table "you're a real gentleman, thank you" you say, internally swooning over how cute he was when his tail started swishing from side to side at your compliment.

"I still kinda feel bad though, you must be dead tired" you told him, but he was quick to ease your worry "don't worry it's alright, besides..." his movement halted just for a slight moment before he continued "I really like spending time with you" he spoke, his tail wagging evers so slighty faster. Grabbing 2 cupps and the tea pot, Lycaon made his way back over to you, pouring you a cup before handing it to you. You take a sip, releasing a relieved sigh as he putts one of the movies on. You pat the spot next to you, urging him to sit.

The hours melted away, your tea cups as well as the pot sitting empty on your coffee table as you binch through the stack of movies Lycaon had brought. Said wolf thiren was sitting next to you, fighting to keep his eyelids from falling shut. Even though he had assured you that you wouldn't have to feel bad, you still couldn't quite shake off the feeling. But an idea comes to your mind, as you call out to him "If you want, you can lie down and rest" you tell him. It has been a heat of the moment kind of suggestion, since your sofa was so small, the only way for him to lie down properly was with his head on your lap.

But much to your astonishment, he plops his head right on your thighs, releasing a sigh of relief. Unbeknownst to you, he was blushing just as severly as you did, with him having the benefit of his fur covering it from your eyes. "You... may pet me if you like" he speaks, his voice low and filled with weariness. And you oblige, your fingers gently combing through his soft fur, and carefully scratching behind his ear.

Soon you forgot completely about your cramps, with Lycaon's soft snoring capturing all your attention as you considere taking a picture of him before sleep would claim you too.

...

Lycaon's eye cracks open, taking in the surrounding darkness of your living room. He wonders what time it is, with the sun seeming to have said goodbye hours ago, now replaced by the moon's light as it shone peacefully through your window. He knows he should have been home hours ago, but as he looked down at your sleeping form; your head lying on his chest, your own steadily raising and falling with every breath you took.

He knew that he was already home.

*•*•*•*•*

I hope this was to your liking! To the other people who have requested something. Don't worry I haven't forgotten about you.

-Elio

[shiorimakibawrites]

Mo Ghrá (Kin Fan Fic)

Words: ~1500 Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Reader Summary: You're on your period and you miss Mikey. Warning: Period symptoms, hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff, pumpkin obsession Masterlist / A03 Tags: @bellaxgiornata, @shouldbestudying41, @loves0phelia, @nowheredreamer, @beezusvreeland, @lulukings92

This little story interrupted the writing of "Bound". Guess Mikey wanted a little attention.

Thanks to @shouldbestudying41 for the title suggestion.

Mo Ghrá

You were on the couch, trying to find a position that was comfortable. It was a struggle. Your abdomen was in favor of the fetal position. Your lower back disagreed. Vehemently. Right now you were seeing if on your side, pillows supporting your back and heating pad pressed against your belly, would work.

You hoped so. You were so tired. You had gotten, maybe, two hours of sleep last night. If you added it all up. Yesterday hadn’t been much better. You had called off work, knowing there was no way you were hauling your ass into the office. Not today.

After failing for umpteenth time to find a comfortable position on your bed, you had given up on it. The couch wasn’t much of an improvement. Best thing you could say is that it wasn’t covered in sheets that smelled like stale sweat. You needed to change your bedding but that sounded like far too much work today . . . maybe, if you got lucky, you’d find the energy to fix that before attempting to sleep tonight.

You wished Michael was here. You wanted to bury your face in his chest hair while he rubbed your back with those large, warm hands. You wanted his voice softly murmuring into your hair. But you stayed at your place last night and yesterday night. Like an idiot. You didn’t know what Past You had been thinking. Probably some nonsense about needing to spend some time at your own place since you were still paying rent . . .

But you were also glad that Michael wasn’t here. Because you felt gross. You had scrapped up just enough energy for a shower this morning. But it was the second day of your period. When you had the worst cramps and the heaviest bleeding. So it didn’t take long for the refreshed, clean feeling to disappear.

You whimpered when another cramp ripped through your abdomen. The painkillers were wearing off. Granted, the ibuprofen was barely dulling your cramp pain. And it did absolutely nothing for your headache . . . But it was all you had. In a minute, you would get up and take more. Refill your water bottle while you were up. In a minute . . .

The knock on the door startled you. You weren’t expecting any company. Michael had mentioned something about running errands when you had called him to cancel your lunch date. Another disappointment, you had been looking forward to that date . . . you weren’t going anywhere special. Just the little cafe that you two had discovered that had really good coffee. Really good everything actually. Anna liked it too . . .

Another knock alerted you to that you had gone woolgathering instead of getting up and answering the door. It was tempting to pretend not to be home. But curiosity won out. Reminding yourself that you needed more medicine and water anyway, you wiggled out of your blanket cocoon and stood up.

Your abdomen protested the loss of the heating pad with an enormous cramp. The kind that made you double-up and brought tears to your eyes. It only lasted a few seconds but it felt like an eternity. You slowly straightened back up, then shuffled just as slowly toward the door. You reached it just as a third knock came. Whoever this person was, they were persistent.

You unlocked and opened the door to discover Michael standing here, a soft smile on his handsome, bearded face. “There ya are, pet. I was startin’ to think I had missed ya.”

“Mikey!” you said, torn between delight and embarrassment. You were happy to see him, of course, but you were also a mess. Crazy hair still wet from the shower, wearing old sweats, oversized tee shirt, and one of his hoodies. The one that you had shamelessly stolen from his house the last time you were over there.

Your unattractive messiness felt especially stark today. Michael’s hair and beard was neatly combed. He was wearing jeans, the ones that displayed just how fine that very fine ass of his was. And that sage green sweater that you had bought him, that really brought out those little flecks of green in his eyes, peeked out from under his jacket.

“I thought you were busy today?” You said.

“Just a few things,” he said. “Can I come in, pet? The coffee's gettin’ cold.”

“Coffee?” you repeated, suddenly realizing that one of his hands was occupied. In it was a drink carrier with two coffees in it. Coffees with the name of the little shop written across the cups. You also noticed a small white bag with the same logo dangling from that wrist. A bag that smelled like fresh-baked pumpkin bread.

Your mouth watered. You hadn’t eaten much today. Just lacked the energy and had been vaguely nauseous. You had nibbled on a cereal bar with some tea hoping that it would stay down. It did. But the nausea remained and nothing sounded appealing . . . not until your nose caught a whiff of that pumpkin.

“Pumpkin bread?”

“Yes,” he said, smiling. “And yer pumpkin spice latte.”

“Really?!”

“I know ya love yer pumpkin,” he said.

He was right. You loved pumpkin. Pumpkin bread. Pumpkin pie. Pumpkin cookies. Pumpkin spice coffee. One of your favorite things about autumn was all the pumpkin things you could find. Michael had teased you about it, said it was very American. You had retorted that his snobbiness about whiskey was very Irish of him.

Remembering that he was still standing on your doorstep and it was a rather brisk autumn day, you moved to the side and ushered him inside. You watched him move through your living room. Particularly when he bent down to put the coffees down on the little table. As predicted, his ass looked incredible in those jeans . . . you felt a spark of irritation at the universe. If only you weren’t on your period right now . .

As if to remind you of that little fact, you got another cramp. It wasn’t quite as bad as the last one but it still had you pressing your hands against your abdomen in a vain attempt to stop the pain. A pointed reminder that you needed to take that ibuprofen and put the heating pad back on. While Michael sliced off a few pieces from the loaf of pumpkin bread, you slipped off to the bathroom to take those painkillers.

“How are ya feelin’ pet?” Michael asked as you settled back on the couch.

“I’m grand,” you said. “Why do you ask?”

While his lips did give an amused twitch at your borrowing of his phrasing, his eyes flickered over to the heating pad and the blanket piled on the couch. “Ya were wincin’”

Of course he had noticed. Michael was nothing if not attentive.

You fidgeted. He had never exhibited any disgust for periods. Never made any crude jokes, reacted with calm practicality every time it had come up. Anna had been more embarrassed by her dad buying her tampons than he had been going to shop to buy them. But your period wasn’t something you enjoyed talking about. You really didn’t want to talk about it with Michael.

For some reason, he seemed to think you were beautiful. And you didn’t want anything to destroy that particular delusion of his.

On the other hand, you didn’t want to lie either. You and Mikey were trying to build something solid here. Something that would last. Honest communication was key to that goal. And . . . well, your periods weren’t going to stop anytime soon.

“It’s just my period,” you muttered, staring at your feet. Your socks didn’t match. One was a bright pink. The other was black. You hadn’t even noticed before now. Tears filled your eyes. Couldn’t even dress yourself properly. You really were a disaster.

“Pet?”

His voice was closer than you expected. It startled you into looking up. Seeing your tears, the concerned frown deepened. “Can I sit with ya?”

You nodded. He sat down next to you, then turned so he was mostly facing you. He held his arms open in clear invitation. One you couldn’t resist. You slide into his arms, borrowing your face into his chest. The sweater might not have been the chest hair you had been craving earlier but you still had his strong arms around you. You had his cologne that smelled like a blend of whiskey, coffee, vanilla along with notes that you couldn’t describe as other than Mikey in your nose. Which was pretty damn good.

It got even better when one of those wonderfully warm hands began massaging your lower back while the other helped maneuver the rest of you into a more comfortable snuggling position. Michael was so warm. He was just as good as your heating pad. Better. Because your heating pad couldn’t murmur sweet nothings into your ear.

One of these days you were going to have to ask him what mo ghrá meant. Everyone had refused to tell you. Just smiled and told you to ask Michael.

You did eventually manage to drink your coffee and eat your slice of pumpkin bread, followed by more snuggles with Mikey. You felt your eyes getting heavy as the combination of comfort and warmth lulled you into sleep. The last thing you felt before you drifted off was lips pressing against your forehead with another soft mo ghrá.

END NOTES

mo ghrá is Irish for "my love".

[tac-the-unseen]

can you please write slashers with an s/o who's calf is really sore? I did some sports activity the other day and my calf really hurts 😭😭

Slashers x Leg Sore Reader

Micheal Myers:

•Okay?

•doesn't care

•Like not even in the slightest

•He gets injured all the time, What does it matter that you have a sore leg?

•Rolls his eyes while you limp around

Billy loomis & Stu macher:

•Billy Just tells you to drink water and sit down

•Stu makes sure you leg is elevated

•these boys think they know anatomy so well they qualify as doctors

•They do not

•But it's not that bad, They just recommend you hydrate and sit down for a while (movie time!)

Thomas Hewitt:

•looks at you like a white lady looks at a stray animal

•Grabs you and starts feeding, hydrating, and shushing you

•Every member of that family, including Luda Mae, is a little ticked that Thomas isn't doing his chores, but no one is going to challenge him when it comes to you.

•that definitely bumps you down the Hewitt family pecking order

Bubba Sawyer:

•empathizes the best

•He's the muscle in his family, and boy are those muscles sore

•He decides he'll take 2 days off with you

•Reading books, cuddling, staying in bed all day

•However the Sawyer family is also upset that Bubba is not doing his chores.

•Down the Sawyer family pecking order you go

Bo Sinclair:

•another man that doesn't care

•1000% is the type to say “What are you sore for? I work all day!”

•Tosses you some ibuprofen and tells you to "quit your bitching!"

•Does make you your favorite meal for dinner

Vincent Sinclair:

•also tosses you ibuprofen

•Just as you start thinking he doesn't care all that much, he's washing his hands in the sink, drying them off, and pulling up a chair in front of you

•He pats his leg at gestures you to move your foot up

•gives you a great leg massage

•his hands are rough but gentle and ✨Magic✨

Lester Sinclair:

•Truly upset that you're in pain

•Starts looking up ways to make you feel better

•Gives you pain meds and a hot water bottle for the pain

•He carries you to the couch and cuddles you while watching old VHS tapes

Billy Lenz:

•”you should stretch!”

•”Hell no.”

• D:

•gives you bad advice

•Don't listen to him

•It was always make it worse

Brahms Heelshire:

•excuse to cuddle

•Can't go outside right now? Oh you poor thing! Cry it out while you snuggle under a blanket together and watch a movie

•deliveries don't come today, He has the next 4 days to cuddle you day and night

•practically purring while clinging to you under the blankets

Hannibal Lecter:

•Casually mentions that he's an old man, and gets random pains all the time

•Tries to give you illegal pain medication

•Maybe avoid is cooking for the next few days (It will be laced)

•Tells you exactly what muscle of yours is sore, If you show him the area

•very condescending, but in a Hannibal way

Will Graham:

•doesn't even look at you and points in the direction of the medicine cabinet in the bathroom

•the most you're going to hear from him is “Damn that sucks…”

•The compensation being no matter where you sit down, If you're in his home you will be covered in dogs.

•intense puppy cuddles

•The Pack envelops you with fur

•RIP any black clothing

The Lost Boys:

•They all start thinking about the last time they felt sore

•They want to gauge how bad it feels

•Marko stares at a fire and says out loud “I think I got sore legs once…” doesn't say anything else

•Paul just nods “I did a lot of running as a kid. My legs were always sore.”

•David genuinely can't remember

•Dwayne has faint phantom pains, but no memories attached to them.

•They call just toss you into the nest and tell you to sleep it off

•They do however take your order for takeout

Thanks for Reading <3

Sorry y'all, just started a new full time job. I'm exhausted :(

[joshfutturman]

ੈ♡˳ 'break out' josh futturman x gn!reader (500 words)

✭ jhutch promptober day 15 - possum

"josh," you mumble, hands on your hips, eyes locked on the squirming mass hidden inside his work uniform, "what the actual fuck is that."

his eyes widen, he knows he's been caught, but he figures he may as well dig himself deeper into the hole he's so perfectly crafted for himself, "what's what?"

those big stupid fucking hazel eyes of his dart everywhere but you, coming to hold his stomach. he's sweating now.

"first of all," you start, stepping closer, "you usually rip that god damn uniform off the second you get home, says it makes you feel 'trapped in your work brain'. . ."

he swallows hard as you take another step, "second of all, you didn't even give me a kiss when you walked through the door, just straight upstairs."

fuck, he wasn't good at lying, never was. was it that obvious?

"third of all, and probably most importantly," you blink, glancing down, "you have what looks like a fucking chest burster inching it's way out of you right now."

he looks like he's physically shaking, lips pursed, words ready to explode out of his mouth. and then the floodgates open as his lips part.

"LISTEN IT WAS JUST THAT I SAW THIS LITTLE GUY IN THE LAB AND HE BROKE OUT AND I WAS LIKE 'OH MY GOD THERE'S A LITTLE GUY' AND HE WAS ALL ALONE AND IF THEY FOUND HIM THEY'D PROBABLY JUST GET RID OF HIM FOR INSUBORDINATION OR SOMETHING I DON'T KNOW STU IS KIND OF LIKE THAT HE'S KIND OF SORT OF EVIL NOW OR WHATEVER AND-"

"JOSH! jesus christ!" you yell, "calm down! slow down! what little guy? was there a kid in the lab?"

he takes a deep breath, a few actually, he's almost hyperventilating. suddenly, he reaches into his jumpsuit and pulls out a possum, holding it out to you like a baby. "a possum!"

you blink.

"a possum?"

josh nods quickly like it's obvious that's what he had the whole time, and in a way, you shouldn't really be surprised. "uh-huh!"

"and now you have. . . a possum."

he blinks too, "uh. . . well yeah, i guess i do."

"a possum." a sigh escapes you, trailing it's way out of your body.

he nods again, a small shy smile appearing on his face, "i'm gonna call him gerald."

gerald. of course. perfectly suitable name for a possum.

"great," you mumble, walking towards the bathroom to grab an aspirin, an ibuprofen, whatever you could get your hands on to take away this possum induced headache.

josh calls out after you, "you don't like the name?!"

"because the name of a possum is the biggest concern for me right now," you glance over your shoulder at him.

he huffs, pouting as he holds gerald close, whispering into his head, "don't listen to them little guy. . . we're gonna bring 'em around to you, just you wait and see."

there was at least one benefit to living with josh futturman, maybe only one. it was that life was never boring.

[izzabela]

HALLOOO... I really love your work sooo much, jshsjsjshsjs. I can't get enough to re-read, so... can I get a request about the lin kuei Bros or earthrealms champion or both? so the reader has a sakura power (from Naruto), you know healing power and a MONSTER PUNCH so their friend/girlfriend on period and got sooo moody when she watched her friends/boyfriends not around her to calming her (cuz period was so suck and cramps hurt like hell) when she seeing (one of the lin kuei bros or earthrealms champions make a mess to her) and she was sooo mad and didn't realize she punch him in the face until it hits the wall. and the rest I leave to you.

sorry if my English is not understandable and messy (this is my first request, so I'm typing it with a lot of nerves). Thank youu

Packs a Punch - Roster Fic (not all of them are included)

in which your menstrual cycle affects those around you in a different way

a/n: i'm starting my period! also, i really tried to write for all of them, but i fear my brain has run out of juice...

ship[s]: johnny cage, geras, raiden, tomas vrbada x f!reader

warning(s): none, f!reader = f!genitalia, menstruation (though, people should be more informed on it regardless), throwing in some real examples from myself and other women around me

Dearest, gentle reader, periods suck- but so does having incredible healing power and super strength.

And when hormones and powers combine, a recipe of disaster is baked into reality. Luckily, your "reality" consisted of magic, gods, and eccentric people in a world 99% of the population hasn't even heard of.

Even so, sometimes they feel your wrath- even when it isn't your fault.

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

Johnny Cage

- poor Johnny, subjected to the mercy of your power during this month's round of menstruation, especially since he's been gone for a couple of weeks for a mission

- poor guy, bringing flowers, chocolate, even a new heat packet with the latest tech (he realized heat was great aid in helping you relax)

- he was so sure he told you he'd be gone for a while during this mission, but all memory is gone when the only thing you're trying to survive your insane mood swings and even crazier cramps

- coming in your shared home, Johnny carefully treads the eerily dark and quiet home. he sees a lump on the couch, and every tip-toe closer to you is a year of his life getting crossed off his timeline

- he can hear you sniffling, and when Johnny just barely utters a soft (and wary) "hello," Johnny's sealed his fate

- you're ripping him a new one, crying about how he left you alone to deal with your cramps. how you had to take more advil and ibuprofen than the recommended limit, and how you missed him so

- Johnny's trying to approach you, carefully inching closer and closer to you with all of his peace offerings. honestly, it irks you more that he's treating you like a feral animal than a girlfriend

- "You left me, and now you look at me like I'm some helpless mutt?!"

- one minute, Johnny's seeing your tear-stained face. the next, he's seeing a playback of his life (was it always so vain?). he's also feeling the ground (except, it's supposed to be carpet, so why does it feel like drywall and wood?)

- it's not until his nose tingles, a reaction from the wood-dust and drywall shavings, and he sneezes, and he looks between you and wherever he was laying

- a comedically large, human-shaped hole was imprinted into the wall, and he can't even begin to process it as he's coaxing you to stop wasting tears on a "valid, totally valid" human reaction

Raiden

- Raiden asked his sister to describe her period symptoms in full detail once when he was fifteen (it earned him a slap in the face from her and more chores from his mother). still, she gave him the information, and it remained dormant in his mind until he met his girlfriend-you

- Raiden was attuned to the requirements to keep you comfortable during your period: hot towels, ice packs, warm baths, massages, tea, your favorite snacks and food- he has everything ready to make sure that each menstruation period of yours goes as smoothly as possible

- except when it doesn't

- it's really not his fault, you came home from Madame Bo's short-breathed and panting, sweat lining your forehead as you dropped everything and laid on the floor

- and you'd been dealing with the most awful customers, all of this not being Raiden's fault as he walks in to find you exhausted and drained

- "Are you alright, love?!" he calls out, kneeling down to get you off the dirty floor and to a cleaner space. you sigh, shaking your head as you keep yourself from letting frustrated tears fall

- you allow him to work on you, Raiden wiping your face and makeup off, wiping down your sweaty body, even him kissing your hands and everywhere else as he takes care of you

- it frustrated you, honestly, with how well he could handle everything while you were breaking apart (it's not your fault, but you're not really listening to your brain either)

- he notices your wobbly chin, and the simple question of "What's wrong, lovely?" has you breaking faster than water rushing through a dam

- you admit through warbled noises and wet tears that you hate how well-together he is, how he's always on top of everything, while you're breaking down. you also took this time to cry about work at the restaurant

Geras

- never did Geras think that someone like you could allow him to feel so human. me smiles just a little more, and you've gotten him to chuckle a few times

- though, he still lacks knowledge in other mortal/human things, especially how women's biology works, and yet he does his best to accommodate you

- Geras always brings you tea freshly brewed by Liu Kang for your periods. he's learned how to give massages as well, to ease the pain in your lower back and hips

- Geras has even asked for a sunroom to be built in the Wu Shi, Fire Temple, and the Hourglass realm- places that are familiar to both you and him. still, not even that is enough to save him from your hormonal wrath

- during this period, no tea, massages or sunlight could quell the frustration that bubbled within you. you had been waiting for ages for Geras to open the portal from the academy to the fire temple- it had been three hours since his scheduled time to do so

- cramps already twisting your insides, a searing pain in your bum, and a pulsing in your head indicated that this would not be a good week for you- and Geras just had to make it worse

- your strength got the better of you, stomping into the ground and leaving footprints into the concrete. kicking rocks didn't help either, as the projectiles brought fear to the unlucky students that were walking near you

- when Geras finally shows up, you've practically leveled the courtyard. with that glare you're giving the immortal man, he might as well be next

- "for three hours, Geras!" you screech, holding three fingers up into his face. "three! it's already hot enough with the sun out, but the fact my cramps made it even more unbearable- and this migraine! no water helped me with this either!

- you're giving him a (reasonable) earful on tardiness, how you were sweating in the scorching weather, and how he just forgot about you. obviously, the last wasn't true, he just got caught up in hourglass duties he didn't realize time passed (and can you blame him? he's dealt with enough of it...)

- "i just... i just can't believe you didn't watch the time!" you swung your arms down into his chest, and though he blocked it, he wasn't able to lock his feet in place to deal with the recoil

- he was basically punched into the wooden wall of one of the rooms of the academy. thankfully, no one was inside, but it doesn't cover up the fact he left a huge, Geras-shaped hole in the wall

- you rush over to him, frantically wiping all the splinters off his back and sides, even cleaning up the nicks of blood that began to peek through his skin

- "this is nothing, dearest," he said calmly as he wiped the precipitate off your forehead. "for the pain you endured due to my lack of diligence take more concern."

Tomas Vrbada

- Tomas doesn't remember how he dealt with his sister's periods. if anything, though, he hopes that it wasn't anything close to yours

- it's not that he doesn't love you (he has a ring all ready for you), it's just that he values his life just as much as he loves you. and honestly? he can't keep going into the infirmary of the Shirai Ryu every single month during your shark week

- this week is particularly awful: puking every morning, heat flashes, even fainting- you were not having this feeling of debilitating hopelessness stop you from continuing your daily tasks

- Tomas put you back into bed, strictly forbidding you from doing anything. while that did help some, it could've helped more if he was next to you. it didn't help that he didn't bother to check up on you the entire day

- which leads him into the current moment, trying to calm you down from a fit of pent up rage from today

- "i get that your clan means a lot to you," you began, "but I just don't understand how you couldn't take just a couple of minutes to see me?"

- you keep listing the things he should've done: should've kissed your head as a sign, should've brought you food instead of the servants, should've should've should've

- "Am I just that unbearable?" you probe, and Tomas ferverously shakes his head no. "I don't understand why you didn't see me!"

- Tomas, trying to explain his poor choices, didn't have time to react to the flurry of emotions that came out of you

- bits of anger, lots of frustration, and even more tears, Tomas was finally close enough to give you a hug- at least he thought

- no longer were you in his immediate vision, and instead he saw you running towards him, running past the drag marks in the wooden floors and through sliding door's latest design choice (why did the hole look so much like him?)

- you pet Tomas's hair, stroking the ash-colored hair and peppered his forehead and face in kisses. more tears ensued as you began to chant apologies and "i love you's"

- "no no," he said weakly, getting up from his spot in the gravel (so the courtyard was where I ended up, he thought). "i must apologize for my behavior. And if you like, we can make it up now since brother has released me from my duties."

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

i hope you liked this req! i really tried to add more but this is all my brain could allow me, i wrote them

i'll see yall in the next fic!

[fiveraccoonsinatrenchcoat]

Quiet My Fears (With The Touch Of Your Hand)

Steve Harrington x f!reader

Description: It was Steve's fault you got hurt last time, and it's Steve's fault again this time, too.

Warnings: pregnant!reader, mentions of being sick, blood, mentions of s3 events, lots and lots of crying

Word Count: 4409

Notes: Hello everyone I kinda poured my heart and soul into this pls enjoy

My Masterlist! - Series Masterlist!

Next Chapter!

July 5th, 1985 - 4:05 am

Steve had already decided what he was going to tell his parents about the state of his face. He was at a party, he’d say, and got into a fight with some drunk asshole who was hitting on you a little too hard. He tried to tell him to fuck off, but the guy got mad and threw the first punch. Steve won, of course.

A semi-believable story that involved zero Soviet torture doctors. 

You’d made it out of the night without any black eyes or broken noses, but there was a sizable gash peeking out from under your hairline. The blood that had dripped from your temple down to your neck had been wiped away by one of the EMT’s, so the cut was really only visible if you already knew it was there. It wasn’t bad enough to warrant stitches, thankfully, but that did very little to quell Steve’s incessant worry. He didn’t like the way your whole body was trembling. Or the way your tights were ripped. 

It took hours for the two of you to be able to go home, made longer by the mountains of contracts and NDA’s you were forced to sign. Steve had already gotten the super secret security rundown twice before. “You’ll probably end up with a good chunk of hush money, at least,” he had joked with you. “All of us did.”

You trailed behind Steve like a lost puppy as he unlocked his front door. He was just happy that you were alive at all.

You, for whatever reason, hadn’t made it into the same interrogation room as Robin and Steve. You weren’t there when Dustin and Erica arrived to get them, and you were nowhere to be seen during the big fight. Steve hadn’t even realized that you weren’t with them until whatever he’d been injected with was out of his system, but he was plunged into an ice cold panic the moment that he did. He begged Hopper to let him go back and look for you, though the idea got shot down immediately (‘Because clearly, you did so great down there the first time!’). Funnily enough, it was actually Murray, of all people, who found you first. He said you were about two seconds away from breaking his nose, if not for the fact that you were chained to the steel bench built into the wall. 

The house was empty. Steve’s parents were spending the holiday weekend with his aunt and uncle two states away; thankfully, Steve hadn’t been dragged along this time. He always thought his dad’s brother was a creep anyway. Your parents were across the street, most likely sleeping soundly at the thought that their daughter was just out at a house party like a regular 18 year old. Of course, nothing about any of this was regular.

Steve’s usual post-saving-of-world routine was to down two doses of ibuprofen, take the hottest shower known to man, and sleep for a day, and there was definitely a part of him that wanted to do just that, but you were still hovering behind him like a ghost. Steve clicked on the lamp on the table next to the sofa as the two of you entered the living room.

“Sit, okay?” he told you. “I’ll find you some pajamas or something.”

You nodded to him, sullen and shaky, and lowered yourself into the pristine couch. It was cream colored and satiny, like it was designed to be easy to stain, and Steve had never actually been allowed to sit on it when he was little. 

His whole body ached, but he trudged up the stairs anyway. He ducked into his own room to quickly strip off his decidedly disgusting uniform and put on a too-big sweatshirt and a pair of sweatpants before picking out something for you. Steve came back down to find you wincing as you slowly pulled off your shoes. 

“Jesus,” Steve remarked at the state of the white socks that slouched around your ankles over your tights. The backs were drenched in angry red, spread all the way around the heel and down the sides, and the nylon of your tights had big holes worn through that exposed just how ripped up the skin of your heels had become.

“I decided to put on new shoes this morning,” you sighed. “Hadn’t broken them in yet.”

While humiliating, he and Robin’s Scoops uniforms were actually pretty comfortable. The sneakers Steve had worn to work that day had held up wonderfully to all the walking (and running for his life) that he’d had to do all night, but you worked at one of the fancy department stores. You couldn’t wear sneakers or comfortable shorts, you had to wear smart, grown up clothes. You’d been running around all night in a pair of brand new, shiny black mary-janes and a skirt. It made Steve feel just a little bit sick to his stomach to think about. 

“Fuck,” Steve huffed out. “Alright, hold on. There’s a first aid kit in the bathroom.”

Steve bandaged up your ankles, carefully cleaning the wounds with the softest cloth he could find and cursing himself when you made a noise at the pain. 

God, this was all his fault.

“You can take the room next to mine, if you want,” Steve said after you’d changed. “My parents won’t be home until Monday, so we won’t have to worry about them at all.”

“Okay,” you said, voice mouseish. You’d been to Steve’s house a million times before; you grew up across the street, the only other person his age in a neighborhood full of elderly couples and houses for sale. Even before Steve de-assholed, you’d still sneak out of the house to come drink stolen beers on the roof of his garage on the nights when he couldn’t stand to sleep. 

That being said, ‘welcoming’ was not really a word you’d use to describe the Harrington household. The guest room next to Steve’s was, similar to the living room, untouched and pristine. Perfectly made bed, easily palettable decor, somehow devoid of dust despite the fact that it was clear no one had used the room in a very long time. The bed had a pink comforter, a dusty-rose kind of color.

The two of you had only been apart for an hour, maybe less, before Steve heard a knock on his bedroom door. He opened it to find your teary eyes on the other side.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Steve asked. He couldn’t either. 

“I can’t-” you stuttered out. “I don’t think I can be alone right now.” 

Steve knew the feeling.

He stepped out of the doorway to make room for you to come in. The pair of you stood too close to one another in the middle of his room in heavy, suffocating silence. 

“I’m sorry,” Steve whispered.

“Don’t be,” you replied. You stepped forward and pressed your forehead against his shoulder. 

“I am, though. I got you wrapped up in this fucking mess,” Steve said as he wrapped you up in a hug. “And now you’re hurt, and it’s my fault.”

“I’m the one who wanted to help you guys. I could’a just gone home, but I chose to stay. You didn’t do that, I did.”

“I still think you deserve to be mad at me.” 

You stayed quiet for a moment, with Steve above your head wishing he could go back in time and fix all of this before it had the chance to get back to you.

“They told me you were dead,” you admitted through the quiet.

“What?”

“After they pulled me away,” you explained. “You and Robin, they told me you were both dead.”

“Oh, my god,” Steve huffed out. “Oh, my god, I’m so sorry.”

You muttered his name into his collar bone, and Steve pulled away just enough to be able to look at you. You were crying now, but so was he, and fuck, he wanted to kiss you. Kiss all of the tears away, and pull all of the horrible, fucked up things that had happened to you out of your memory, and as you stood looking at him, Steve realized that you had gotten the memo.

You leaned up and kissed him, so incredibly soft, making sure to be careful of his split lip. Steve’s eyes fluttered shut as his hands came to meet the junction of your jawline and neck. 

You pulled away from him first, tears still silently spilling from your eyes, and he touched his forehead to yours. 

“I’m really happy you’re not dead.”

February, 1989

Steve was entirely zoned out behind the counter at Family Video when the shrill ring of the phone broke through his trance

“Thank you for calling your local Family Video. My name is Steve, how can I help you today?” Steve regurgitated the same spiel as he does every time he picks up the phone. 

“What time do you get off work tonight?” you asked him. Steve knew your voice in an instant, and even through the crackle of the phone, he could hear that something was wrong.

“Eight. Why?” Steve inquired.

“I need you to come over,” you said. “It’s an emergency.”

Steve’s heart dropped into his stomach.

“Should I be calling Hopper?” he asked you. If something. . . upside down-ish was happening again, he was gonna lose his shit.

“No, nothing like that,” you clarified, and Steve let out a silent breath of relief. “It’s an entirely non-supernatural emergency.”

“Do you want me to come over now? I’m the boss-man. I can leave whenever I want,” Steve joked. He was trying his damnedest to hear your laugh come from the other end of the line.

“You’re a shift lead, Steve.”

“Yeah. Boss-man.” 

There was only silence on the line for a moment. 

“I don’t want you to get in trouble, is all,” you explained, and it made Steve's heart ache just a touch. 

“It’s fine, I won't,” Steve said to placate your worry. “Twenty minutes, okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” you said, though you didn’t sound thrilled. It made Steve worry even more as he hung up the phone. 

Steve knew the two of you were wildly codependent on each other. Believe him, Robin had been reminding him constantly over the past year since she’d caught the two of you in a house party bathroom. 

The fact that the pair of you hadn’t actually made it official yet, despite the fact that you’d been sleeping with each other with relative consistency for three and half years, definitely didn’t help matters at all. 

‘You are in love with her,’ Robin loved to point out. ‘And pretending to not be in love with her while also sleeping together is going to destroy your brain!’

She was right, of course. It absolutely was destroying his brain, but if he had to pick between having a destroyed brain but also having you, or not having a destroyed brain but also not having you, he’d pick a destroyed brain anyday. Even if he thought (knew) you didn’t necessarily feel the same way he did.

Steve parked his car in the empty space next to yours in your apartment building’s lot. He knew the code to the building’s door by heart now, and he’d had a spare key to your apartment for the last six months.

He let himself in, making sure to lock the door behind him once he was inside, and saw you shaking like a leaf on the couch. 

Steve paused for a moment before he dropped his car keys onto the little table by the door. He was instantly plunged into crisis-management mode. 

In recent years, Steve had become quite familiar with crisis management mode; put all the feelings to the side, and deal with the situation at hand. Was it healthy to stub out all of the mushy shit like that? No, probably not, but emotional healing was a lot easier to do when he didn’t have the threat of  interdimensional horror hanging over his head.

Though, over the phone, you had promised him there was no interdimensional horror at the moment.

He toed off his shoes and rounded the coffee table to crouch in front of you. Your eyes followed his every movement, wide and glassy and enough to make Steve’s rib cage feel like it was about to cave in. He took your hands in his.

“What happened?” he asked you. 

You shut your eyes, forcing more tears down the slope of your cheek. A small, quiet sob escaped your lips as you dipped your forehead onto Steve’s shoulder. He brought a hand up to graze over the back of your head, holding you close to him. 

You were tougher than you looked, always had been. That wasn’t to say that Steve ever thought you were weak, but you were timid and quiet. Shy since birth, you never really stood out to Steve as a fighter until he saw you crack a Russian soldier over the back of the head with his own gun. You’d had a fire in your eyes that could’ve rivaled Nancy’s that night, before you had all been separated from one another. That fire was decidedly missing right now, though. Your tears seemed to have extinguished it.

“Hey, hey. Tell me what’s going on, yeah?” Steve asked.

“I’m sorry,” you whimpered into his neck. You sounded small and, more pressingly, fucking terrified. Steve did his best to place a hand on either side of your face and pull back to get a good look at you, though you clearly didn’t want to be pulled away from your spot tucked into the collar of his crew-neck. 

“Sorry for what, baby?” Pet names had previously been reserved for dirty-talk purposes only, but you’d started calling him ‘handsome’ a few months back as a joke (which quickly became much less of a joke), and now that rule had been thrown out the window. One more blurry boundary line in your relationship. “I wanna help, but I can’t do that if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

“Steve,” you murmured.

“You’re scaring me,” Steve told you, and it was true. “Is it something with your mom? Did she call?”

“No. She won’t. You know she won’t.”

“Then what’s happening? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this upset, and I will do everything I can to help, but-”

“I’m pregnant.”

You whispered it and Steve swore he felt his heart stop. 

“What?” he whispered back. Surely you didn’t mean it. Surely he had to have misheard you.

“I’m pregnant.” 

Definitely hadn’t misheard you, then.

“You-” It felt a bit like his brain had been replaced by cotton balls. “How sure are you?”

“Uhm, I took a test here, and it came back positive, but the box said that you can get false results sometimes, so I waited a couple days and took another one, but then that said the same thing,” you rambled. “So then, I went to that clinic on Poplar and got a blood test, and they called me earlier today and said that that one was positive, too.”

“Very sure,” Steve said in response to your onslaught. 

You only nodded in agreement.

Steve could hear the drip drip drip of your leaky kitchen sink, the sound of your cat batting around his favorite toy mouse, your neighbors downstairs fighting like they did most nights. He could hear your ragged breathing, and the beginnings of your quiet sobs, and his own heartbeat in his ears. He didn’t know what to say to you, how to get you to calm down, and he didn’t think he had the mental capacity to figure it out right now, so he didn’t say anything at all. You stayed quiet too, tucked away in your own little world of the smell of Steve’s cologne and the soft of his hair. 

Steve was about two seconds away from completely shutting down when your pitiful voice sliced through the silence.

“Steve, I don’t know what to do.”

That kicked his brain back into gear. 

“That’s okay,” he said from his spot on the floor. His emotions get tucked underneath the floorboards so he can deal with yours first. “It’s okay. You don’t have to know right now.”

And you two stayed there, you on your couch and him with his back pressed against the hard edge of  your coffee table, for a good long while. Your sniffles had graduated to full on bawling and you were clinging to him like he was a liferaft. You were petrified. His head was swimming and he felt a little bit like his heart might explode, but he wasn’t about to let you know that. 

Logically, the next step would be to talk about. . . all of it. What you wanted to do, and what that would look like, and all of it, but you weren’t able to get a word in. Even though Steve knew it was what needed to happen next, the thought of actually having to face the music made him feel sick. 

“We’ll figure it out, alright?” Steve said into your hair. “We’ll figure it out. It’ll be okay. I promise.”

You just sort of fell limp against him once you had run out of tears. Steve’s back was starting to cramp up from being squished against the table, and when he moved to plant himself onto the sofa next to you, you stayed adhered to his side. 

“Steve, I don’t-”

“I know. It’s okay.” I don’t know what to do had become your mantra of the evening. Steve was in the exact same boat, though, and the best idea he’d had all night was distraction, so distraction it would be. He paused for a moment before asking you, “are you hungry?”

You tilted your gaze to him, looking confused.

“How ‘bout I go and get us something to eat from that diner you like, and we can watch a movie or something. Then we can talk about it in the morning, yeah?” Steve suggested. You didn’t seem all that on board with the idea, though. “Is that okay?”

“I can’t keep anything down,” you explained after a moment.

Oh, yeah. People get sick when they're pregnant. Steve hadn’t really thought about that part yet. 

“Right. Well, have you tried at all today?” he inquired. You shook your head.

“Not since last night.”

Great. You’re already terrified and now you can’t even eat.

“Look, I’ll get you a grilled cheese, and an extra large Sprite for your stomach in case the sandwich doesn’t work out, and I’ll stay here with you all night,” Steve said. 

“Okay,” you said with a nod and a sad smile. You seemed to understand what he was doing, though you showed no signs of protest. “Do you want me to go with you?”

“No, it’s okay,” Steve said as he got up and slipped his feet back into his shoes. He scooped up his keys and shot you a smile before opening the door. “I’ll be quick, I promise.”

You nodded, giving him the green light to leave. He half-jogged down the stairwell and out into the parking lot, and he barely made it into the driver’s seat before he started crying.

Guilt settled in his chest in an instant at the thought, but the first thing that popped into his head when he was finally alone was that his dad was going to fucking kill him. And not just in a figurative, ‘oh no I scratched the car, dad’s gonna kill me’ kind of way; his father was going to pick up a weapon and actually kill him. Then, Hopper was gonna kill him after his dad did. You two weren’t even actually dating; how was he going to explain any of this? ‘Hey, dad! I accidentally knocked up my not-quite-girlfriend/best friend with benefits!’  That’ll go over splendidly. That’s two people added to the list of people who wanted to kill him. 

What was going to happen next, then? He was having difficulty figuring out the answer. 

Whatever you wanted to do, obviously, but you didn’t know what that was, and yeah, he was scared shitless, but you were beyond terrified. Scared in a way Steve had never seen you before. That made him feel about a million times worse.

‘Cause he was still just a shitty kid, who still lived with his shitty parents and worked a shitty job, and even with his shitty promotion, he still made a shitty wage. A shitty wage that definitely wouldn’t be enough to raise a kid, and-

He was spiraling, he could feel it, and he’d never been more grateful to see the glowing neon of an OPEN sign in his life.

He parked the car. He got out of the car. He opened the door to the restaurant. He walked up to the counter and a girl he used to know from high school took his to-go order. If he remembered correctly, she was a tattoo apprentice.

“You alright?” possible-tattoo-apprentice ask Steve after ringing in the food. “You seem a little, I don’t know, freaked out.”

“Yeah,” Steve replied with a tight lipped smile and curt nod. “Yeah, no. I’m good.”

She looked right through his lie, but moved on to a couple of older men sitting at the counter with coffee refills anyway.

 Steve, in the ten minutes it took for the food to come out, stood leaning against the wall in utter silence. In that silence, he allowed himself to live in what was probably an irresponsible thought; the one where the two of you actually did have a kid, and a house, and maybe a dog if he’s lucky. Something that maybe was a lot less far off in the future than he thought. Steve used to want kids, when he was younger. Maybe it was just the fact that he’d had every single stereotype of the American dream shoved down his throat his whole life, but he really had wanted it at one point. That was before everything, though. Before the monsters, and the chaos, and all the awful shit he’d roped you into. Before it all came back, and then came back again, again, again. Any dream of a family had been stubbed out by the fear that it could all one day be ripped apart. 

Despite that, despite the fact that he knew every single reason that it could never happen like the back of his goddamn hand, he did nothing to try and save himself from drowning in the fantasy. The image of you holding his baby made his chest go tight and he wanted it more than anything in the world, but fuck, what happens if everything goes to shit again? He had done a pretty awful job at keeping you away from it the first few times, you had the nightmares to prove it, so how could he possibly protect his kid from it, too?

The food came out and he was rocked back into reality.

He left the restaurant, stopping on the way back to your apartment at a 7/11 for the Sprite he had promised. He grabbed some anti-nausea medicine too, but it wasn’t until he got into the car that he realized there was a big warning on the back of the box: ‘Do not take if you are pregnant or breastfeeding.’ 

Awesome.

He did his best to scrub any evidence of tears out of his eyes in the rearview mirror, and got out of the car.

You were waiting for him on the couch, just as you had been when he had left. You smiled at him when he walked through the door, still the sad self pitying kind, but a smile nonetheless. 

“I come bearing grilled cheese,” he said as he placed the bag on the coffee table. The joke didn’t land.

“You were crying?” you asked once you were able to get a good look at him, the shake in your voice back once again. Clearly he hadn’t done a good enough job in the rear view. 

“N-no, no. I wasn’t, I-”

“You were,” you interrupted him, and Steve knew better than to try and deny it. You looked like you were about to start crying again, too, and Steve could feel the twist of the knife in his side. He rounded the table to sit next to you, and you drew yourself into him in an instant. Tucked into his arms, you did start crying again (how you had any tears left, Steve didn’t know) and just barely whispered, “I’m sorry.”

“Hey, hey. No sorries, okay?” he said. You wouldn’t look up at him, just shook your head. “Look, if we’re gonna blame anybody, it should probably be me, right?”

Thankfully, that line was enough to finally bubble a laugh out of your chest.

“I’m serious!” Steve took the joke and ran with it in a desperate attempt to lift your spirits even in the slightest. “I mean, it was my, y’know. . . fluids.”

“Oh, gross, dude!” you exclaimed, playfully slapping his shoulder as you sat up straight. “Don’t say it like that!”

“That’s just biology, babe.”

“I know that, I just don’t want to have to think about your fluids when I’m trying to eat,” you quipped at him as you pulled the styrofoam boxes out of the bag on the table, opening the first of the two and passing it his way. It seemed like you were feeling better, and even if you were faking it, Steve would take it. 

“Hey,” Steve called to you through the quiet chatter of the TV after a moment. You turned your face to meet his and the moment his eyes locked on to yours, it seemed like every word he had wanted to say to you had slipped out of his mind. Your voice reeled them all back in, though.

“Yeah?”

“Whatever you wanna do, okay?” he stuttered out. He was pretty sure he might start crying again.

“Right. Yeah.” Your smile faded in an instant at the reminder of the situation.

“And whatever that, y’know, looks like,” Steve continues. “I’ll be right next to you, holding your hand the whole time.”

You give him a pitiful, heart crushing smile, and the pair of you didn’t bring it up again all night. 

[mamawasatesttube]

“Wait! Please— I’m sorry, just— wait.” for the game?

"Don't"—Kon rips the last strip of medical tape and presses it into place against Tim's upper arm, his hands gentle even though his voice is furious—"ever do that again. Promise me."

Tim leans his head back against the headrest and closes his eyes. His shoulder throbs with pain; ibuprofen can't do that much against a bullet wound. It was a clean shot, though, just through muscle, not hitting bone, so it'll heal fine.

"I'm not making that promise, and you know it," he answers, a few seconds late.

Kon inhales sharply, as if Tim has just slapped him. Then—

"Fine," he hisses. Tim opens his eyes just in time to see him shoot back to his feet and whirl on his heel. He takes two furious strides towards the door before Tim's sluggish sense of alarm slams into action and adrenaline surges through his chest, because Kon's leaving and Tim can't—!

"Wait!" Tim pushes away from the wall and stands. He's a little woozy from blood loss, yeah, but that pales in importance when Kon's about to vanish. "Please—I'm sorry, just—wait."

But Kon isn't in front of him any longer. He was too late. Or maybe Kon was just too upset with him. And—

"Sit back down, idiot," Kon's voice says, behind him, and strong hands catch him just as he wobbles. When did Kon get so close? "You need to replenish your fluids before you go gallivanting off to be a self-sacrificial idiot again."

Kon eases him back down into the armchair. Tim pinches the bridge of his nose with his good arm, the world spinning.

"It didn't kill me," he mutters. "It's just a flesh wound. Why are you so worked up about it?"

Even dizzy as he is, he can still see Kon stiffen at his side. "Because—!" Kon jerks away, wrapping his arms around himself. "That was a fucking kryptonite bullet, Tim. That was meant for me. You shouldn't—why would you—"

"Because it was meant for you." Tim closes his eyes again. He's exhausted. He needs Kon nearby. Just... so he can be sure he's okay.

Kon lets out a distressed, unhappy noise. "That doesn't mean—it's still a bullet, you stupid little—"

"I know!" Tim bursts out. He opens his tired eyes to glare at Kon. "I know it's a bullet! I felt it go through my damn shoulder, Kon, I promise I know it's a bullet!"

Kon glares right back. "Then why would you—"

"Because I can't lose you again!"

The words hang in the air between them as heartbeats tick by. Kon's impossible, luminous eyes are wide, his lips slightly parted. His eyelashes are thick and dark; the shades pushed up into his hair are cracked. He's so beautiful Tim could weep.

How can he make him understand? He saw the green glow, he saw the gun pointed at Kon's chest, and he—it wasn't an active thought. He just saw a golden statue in his mind's eye, and he moved. He can't lose Kon again. He can't live through that again. He can't.

"Rob," Kon murmurs. His voice is gentle, all the frustration melted away. He reaches over, cradles Tim's cheek in a warm, smooth hand. Tim presses into his touch, his chest suddenly tight. "You're not gonna lose me."

"I can't," Tim repeats a little hoarsely. "So I can't make you that promise."

Kon blows out a deep, tired sigh. "We'll... talk about it later," he says. "For now, I just... I want you to drink that Gatorade I got you. Okay? You need fluids with electrolytes."

Tim chews at his lip. The bottle sits innocuously on the side table. "Okay."

Without being asked, Kon opens it for him. He presses it into Tim's good hand, and then—

He leans down, his shadow falling over Tim's face, and brushes a tender kiss to Tim's forehead. He lingers, as Tim's breath catches in his throat, his lips pressed to Tim's skin. He can definitely hear the way Tim's heart beats faster as Tim sits there, wide-eyed, as sparks shoot through his entire body and fill him with a strange, fluttery warmth.

Kon draws back and sinks to his knees. He leans against Tim's legs and rests his head in Tim's lap. None of his fury and dismay from just a few minutes ago remain; if anything, he just looks... melancholy.

"You're not gonna lose me again, Robbie," he says softly. "I'm here."

Tim takes a sip of his Gatorade to quell the lump in his throat. He carefully threads the fingers of his other hand into Kon's messy curls. "Yeah," he says, his voice a little smaller than he'd like it to be. "You are."

[lastoneout]

I don't really know exactly why I'm posting this, I guess I just want to share my joy, but y'all...the nerve block worked. My migraine went down a little over the night so I was only at like a 1.5-2 but I swear to god the second they were done EVERY SINGLE PART of my head stopped hurting. The only pain I'm feeling rn is at the injection site and a smidge in my jaw, but that's not a huge deal bcs I know the steroids take a long time to do their thing and I usually have pain around the injection site when they do this in my back, plus I did already suspect something like 10% of my migraines aren't entirely due to my neck, but like...it worked. It fucking worked.

I've been living with chronic migraines my entire life, and in the last five years, they've gotten so bad that I can't work and have to cancel streams and hangouts with friends all the time. I have migraines more days than I don't and I've never been able to find out what my trigger is aside from not sleeping well and eating lays potato chips(rip I miss them so much) or gluten or being on my period?? and on some days I'm in so much pain I can't even feed myself or shower. 8-10 is the norm, they don't go lower on their own, they NEVER go away on their own, no matter how much time I spend lying in bed in the dark with icepacks on my face. My migraine rescue meds don't always work, or they work for a day and then it comes back, and I seem to be fucking Immune(tm) to Excedrin and ibuprofen. All that together has legit been ruining my entire life.

And I am not even a little ashamed to admit that once they were done and asked how I felt I broke down sobbing in the exam room because it WORKED. Instantly. Years of pain and agony and no help from my doctors, of blaming a medical condition that treatment hasn't fixed, telling me to limit screen time and lose weight, forcing me to try 50 different medications none of which help, of spending long nights in the ER hoping they can fix me even though it's typically a 50/50 chance....and now it's over. I don't have to do that anymore. They fixed it. They fixed it.

I'm crying right now as I write this. I never thought this was possible. Like I believed that it was my neck and my doctors agreed, but I was so worried that this would all be for nothing, I didn't think it would work, I know most disabled people dream of finding the One Thing that's causing all their problems even though most of us never do, but I guess luck decided to smile on me this day, this is what's causing my problems and it's treatable. It's over. I found the path out of this hell and it was the right one. I don't even know what to do, what to say. I'm so happy I can't even be happy, all I can do is cry because the hardest part is over.

There's still work to be done, but the path is clear. And honestly @ any gods that are listening, please grant this to my fellow disabled people. They deserve to feel this, we all do.

[clownhara]

is there like a jester ocs 101 i do wanna learn about them

Putting these under a read more because this might get long

My family :)

Edward Roberts-Rosales: I made too many jokes about this bastard being my dad and now he's my dad. High key wants to fuck plants. Evades taxes like no ones business. Kind of a shit guy but it's funny to watch him mess up everything so we keep him alive for that alone Max Rosales: My better dad. Can really do so fucking much better than Edward but he settled </3. Is a plant man. Likes baking. Is the dad that actually loves me. Heron Rosales: I don't do to much with her but I'm trying to do more. Max's trans sister. Wants Edward dead and honestly, we don't blame her. Average chronic pain haver tbh please get her some Ibuprofen. Boaty McBoatface: My brother who is a boat. Edwards favorite son, despite being terrified of being on boats after he was the sole survivor of a ship wreck. I fuckinh hate this thing

Project Moon adjacent ones

Despise Domek (Or just Des): Local Enkphalin hooked rat. Goes by it/they but people close to it can call them she/her. There are two remaining people who can call them she/her. Steals things from people it likes to keep a piece of them, so don't invite them to your house. Things WILL go missing. Says the phrase "Well it didn't kill me so I'm fine" way to god damn often. Ambrose Domek: Not actually related to Des at all his parents just stole Des's parents last name. We heart religious fanaticism to the point of self harm!!!!!! Has two boyfriends and has convinced himself neither of them like him. Him and Des are besties :) Keith: Real Jester-heads remember Keith. I made this bastard before Ruina came out and he keeps fucking staying relevant to whatever game is out. How does he do it. Lobcorp him is Geb and Myo's adopted son, a Rabbit, and had a complex where he's gotta prove himself 24/7 and ends up getting his leg ripped off. Ruina him is trying to find Gebura again after the whole Library situation happened, and is wildly distraught after learning Myo's whole deal. Limbus Keith is content, much older, runs a weapons shop, and is gay married to Heathcliff. Jesus Christ I made him before the new translation of Lopcorp happened I think HOW LONG HAS HE EXISTED WHAT THE FUCK

Damien Domek: Also not related to Des, just took it's last name because he liked it. They are qprs though. Also is broke as shit but mostly stays out of the Rat lifestyle by just old fashioned robbing people. Loves lying to people for fun and profit, but he is honestly a pretty nice guy. Minus the lying

Randos

Arlo: Disgusting rancid cyborg scientist who needs to bathe and touch grass. I adore him though. Ellie: Arlos little sibling. She/they user. Kills people for money and feeds the bodies to the eldritch horror that follows her around Hector: The eldritch horror that follows Ellie around. usually just looks like a dilf tbh its easier for Ellie to explain. Can't actually speak so he usually just talks telepathically while making a bunch of hums, chirps, and clicks to mimic speaking.

Oleander: Local unethical scientist that unethicaled a bit too hard when trying to revive his even worse older brother and turned off most of his emotions manually to avoid coping with the mental toil. Sad! Many such cases. Can't feel any emotions other then joy now. Kinda sucks but he certainly doesn't seem to upset about it :)

Simon: Oleadners brother. Kinda. Moreso a robot piloting Oleanders brothers body. Fucking hates Oleander but after Oleander lobotomized himself Simon begrudgingly takes care of him now. Despite his complicated feelings, he's wildly overprotective.

Cybel: A robot Oleander made! They are meant to gather as much information as they possibly can in case some horrible event happens that kills off humanity. is quite literally indestructible. Likes ice cream.

Octavius: I made this guy to be a danganrompa villain back in high school and I succeeded too well. I fucking hate this fake ass bitch

Tabb: This fucking guy. Trapped in a time loop but he doesn't know and its technically not a time loop. Met his (now) husband ages ago but died shortly after meeting him, so he revived Tabb, then the two got married, then Tabb died again so Halt (the husband) revived him again but he lost his memories then halt died and Tabb revived him the Tabb died again so Halt revived him but he lost all his memories so they dated again and got remarried then Tabb died again and you get the idea. Very nice guy, a bit anxious, perfectly normal minus the dying thing. If it wasn't for him losing all his memories and Halt tampering with shit so he was in love with him i uh. Don't think he'd actually like Halt all that much tbh

Halt: Just wants to be happy with his husband :(. Sad he unethicaled all over that science. Hey are you noticinga theme here. Also he's a cat boy but thats really not relevant to his depression issues

Urge: Halts kinda milfy twin sister. Really sick of all of this loop bullshit because she gets to watch her bestie Tabb die repeatedly, so she packed up her bags and left. Can't be in the same room as Halt without them getting into a fist fight. Do you see the themeing with their namesan d their ideals. Halt is kinda halted in place but Urge keeps pushing forward because she has the urgeto move on. Do you see it. It is almost 1 am

Russel: A kid that got roped into this whole mess because he walked in on a Tabb revival tube without permission. Sticks around Urge most of the time. Had a bad homelife to put it mildly, so Urge took him in.

Theres way more of these bastards but these are the most relevant ones. I am going to bed now. Goobnight

[mushysquashythingamajig]

What do you mean drinking your boyfriend's blood is the norm?

There was an incessant knocking on Buck's door. The kind that was possible only with a kid hopped up on either sugar or caffeine. Both ideas equally horrific in Buck's mind. Maybe it was Maddie dropping of Jee in an emergency.

Buck opened the door and surprisingly, the sugar rushed child was actually his boyfriend. His feverish looking boyfriend who right now was pale as all hell.

"Tommy? What are you doing here? Are you okay?" Buck asked, shooting off one question after the other. Tommy looked like he was in no condition to stand.

"Can I come in?" Tommy asked, ever the gentleman.

Buck pulled him into the loft, shoving him into one of his dining chairs.

Tommy's forehead was burning and Buck was terrified. He didn't even need a thermometer to know that Tommy needed to be in the hospital, like right now. He had some ibuprofen in the medicine cabinet. Maybe that will ease Tommy for a bit, at least until he could drive to the hospital.

"Evan." Tommy moaned out.

"What were you thinking, you idiot? Couldn't you have just driven yourself to a hospital?" Evan admonished.

"Not something a hospital can fix, Evan." Tommy bit out, before groaning in pain.

"What do you mean?" Evan was seriously confused and worried. Maybe it was just the fever talking. Yeah, it was probably that. Needed to get Tommy that ibuprofen.

"Never mind, shouldn't have come here." Tommy tried pushing himself off the chair but Buck pushed him back in.

"Shut up and wait here."

Buck basically ran and started rummaging through the medicine cabinet in the bathroom, looking for the ibuprofen. There it was.

"Tommy, don't move. I'm coming."

He called out from the bathroom when, a strong gust of wind later he was shoved against the wall, a broad figure pinning him to it. Buck's eyes were wide open because he was pretty sure that Tommy was still sitting near the dining table.

He slowly twisted his head, only to see the chair empty. He felt Tommy's nose nudge the side of his throat and he gulped on noting but air. Tommy was sniffing him? No matter what he was doing, Evan was scared out of his damn mind.

"Evan." Tommy's lips were close to Buck's neck, his warm breath sending goosebumps across his body, "Evan please."

"Tommy, what's happening?" Evan's voice was shaky.

"I swear, I'll explain all of his. Please, just let me. Just once. I won't take much." Tommy begged.

Evan heard a snip and his blood went cold. He instinctively pushed Tommy away, which shouldn't be possible if what he was thinking was true. Tommy went willingly but his face wasn't the same right now. His mouth had two sharp incisors poking out of them, one of them having Tommy's tongue in between.

"Evan, baby, please. Just a little bit. I swear I'll do anything." Tommy moved in again, his fangs just inches away from Evan's neck. What was he gonna do? Was he gonna rip Evan's throat out? Was he gonna kill Evan in cold blood? Did their relationship mean nothing to him?

"Evan, I can hear your heart. " Tommy's hand snaked up until it was resting on his chest. It stopped there for a second before it moved even more upwards, reaching his face. He pulled Evan's face into his lips, kissing the corner of Evan's.

"Okay." Evan whispered. His heart had calmed down. A bit. And right now, the only thing on his mind was that he hoped Tommy made it quick. He wished he got to say goodbye to his family, his sister, his niece- Ow.

He felt two pin pricks on the side of his neck and Tommy suckling his neck like his life depended on it. His nails dug into Tommy's broad shoulder and he held back a moan. Woah. He just found out something he never knew about himself.

It didn't take much time, and Tommy had his fill. He licked and drooled over the injured portion of Evan's neck, until the sharp pain in his neck were nothing more than a dull ache. He grabbed Buck's face again, and this time didn't hesitate to shove his tongue into Evan's mouth.

Buck moaned which Tommy greedily drank down, their messy makeout getting filthier by the second. The events that just transpired rushed back into Buck's head which sobered him up. A little bit. He pushed Tommy off of him.

"What the fuck?" He wiped his mouth, and didn't give a crap that Tommy looked offended.

"I think I owe you an explanation." Tommy rubbed his neck sheepishly.

"Oh do you? I thought your boyfriend sucking blood from you neck was the norm." Buck moved forward to get in Tommy's face, but he stumbled and fell right into Tommy's chest. Tommy caught him, like always, before hauling him up bridal style and whisking him to the upper section of the loft.

"What the heck is happening to me?" Evan question, getting more disoriented by the second.

"Vampire saliva is an impressive sedative. And aphrodisiac." Tommy wiggled his eyebrows. The dork. The audacity. "You'll be okay in an hour or two."

"You better not go anywhere." Evan sleepily threatened, "I have a bone to pick with you."

"Never." Tommy's crinkly smile was the last thing Buck saw before going under.

~~

A/N: I don't know why, but pathetic strong men kinda do it for me. (The good kind btw). Also, this is kinda OOC but, y'know, What's our motto?

[tiniedemon]

— ♡

with a hungover s/o headcanons

team stan + craig

— ♡

stan

— has the most experience with having hangovers

— slides you a tylenol and a glass of water the minute you wake up

— cuddles you in the dark until you feel alright enough to watch tv

— lets you choose the show

— turns the volume and the brightness down

— if you’re throwing up he’ll hold your hair back if it’s long enough

— probably cries at some point

— so emotional seeing you in pain

— if you need a nap he’ll take one with you

— brings you fast food when you wake up to help with nausea

— anything you want you get

kyle

— also has experience but with helping stan with hangovers

— tylenol and water on the nightstand when you wake up

— leaves you alone for most of the day

— he doesn’t wanna make your hangover worse

— the only way he’s coming in that room is if you beg him over text

— will absolutely not be in the room if you’re throwing up

— cannot stand vomit but will cuddle you if you’re not

— cooks you a greasy breakfast first thing in the morning

— he’s so quiet you’re not sure he even used the kitchen

kenny

— also pretty experienced with hangovers thanks to his parents

— brings you a beer and an ibuprofen

— is confused when you don’t want the beer because his parents usually did

— brings you water instead and just drinks the beer himself

— definitely holds your hair while you’re throwing up

— probably also ends up throwing up

— just a continuous cycle of you making each other sick

— you spend the entire day napping and kenny’s so bored

— eventually he ends up napping too

eric

— is an absolute dick about it

— loud as fuck for no reason

— bangs around the kitchen cooking for himself

— early as fuck might i add

— does bring you tylenol but just tosses the bottle at you

— stays far away if you’re sick

— rips on you for drinking too much

— eventually caves and spoons you after you beg for a while

— secretly loves cuddling you though

— gives you back rubs

— covers the window with a blanket so the light doesn’t bug you

— eventually cooks you food and eats in bed with you

butters

— the sweetest ever

— he’s such a great boyfriend

— he really is

— but he has no clue what to do

— loud as fuck on the phone asking kenny what to do

— cries because he doesn’t know what to do

— comes into your room with fast food and tylenol

— forgets water

— holds your hair back if you’re throwing up

— but probably has to leave the room afterwards so he doesn’t also end up sick

— back rubs and cuddles for sure

— fine with napping all day

— especially if you let him spoon you

craig

— leaves ibuprofen and water on your nightstand before you wake up

— also leaves a cute note for you

— but will never admit to leaving the note

— the second you text him he’s in your room with you

— probably won’t be in the room if you’re throwing up

— the noises bother his tism

— but will absolutely cuddle you all day if you ask

— doesn’t talk at all

— knows how it feels when loud noises hurt

— so he’s dead silent

— probably also puts a blanket in the window

tweek

— panics for the first 30 minutes

— very aggressively might i add

— you have to put a pillow over your head he’s so loud

— but then he’s sneaking in to leave you some painkillers

— turns out they’re opiates he bought off kenny

— sneaks out and then back in with tylenol instead

— gives the opiates back to kenny

— down to cuddle if you want

— but the second you start throwing up he’s running away screaming

— stressed as fuck

— but he still takes care of you

— feeds you and gives you a relaxing epsom salt bath in candlelight

— read about it on pinterest

— it’s the thought that counts

jimmy

— probably also clueless

— brings you an entire bottle of painkillers

— has no idea how many you need

— eventually brings you a bottle of water

— tries getting you to watch a movie

— is upset with himself when you start crying because the light hurts your head

— probably gives you a shoulder massage

— holds your hair back but gags the whole time

— whispers corny ass jokes in your ear

— genuinely thinks his comedy will chase the hangover away

— all it does it make you laugh

— and then groan because your head hurts

— cuddles you all day

— but is definitely restless and ends up turned away watching tiktok quietly on his phone

tolkien

— has the most sense

— leaves tylenol water and pedialyte on your nightstand

— puts a blanket in the window to block light

— reads in the living room until you text him that you need him

— then he’s spooning you and rubbing your stomach

— rubs your back and holds your hair

— very quiet and comforting

— forehead kisses and shoulder massages

— cooks for you at some point

— but is also super quiet about it and it’s so perplexing as to how he managed

— ends up taking a nap with you

— prays you end up feeling better by the next day

— definitely dad lectures you when you’re better

clyde

— he’s also hungover

— a couple that parties together crashes together

— downs half a bottle of ibuprofen (not really, but definitely takes more than recommended)

— then lets you have your share

— both of you nap all day

— he definitely is also throwing up

— you get the toilet he gets the trash can

— he takes one for the team and takes the trash bag outside when he’s done

— complains all day

— you end up cooking for the whiny baby

— but he gets way less than you as a punishment

— you end up spooning him

— he’s got it so much worse but still manages to give you a back massage