#sorry this is a negative one i just had to get it out there | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

alexa-fika · 3 days ago

Note

You know how child!Dokusha often ends up in places she shouldn't be? I think that most of the characters would be understanding of the childs curiosity, while others would scold them for not sitting put.

For example child! Dokusha as mihawks child would get scolded by their father alot for it but he understands that children will be children and be curious. Also the more you tell kids to not do something the more they do it

I feel like shanks would be A father that also let's his crew be fathers. Personally I love the idea that lucky roo is a amazing babysitter, I don't know why

Eat water drink food Alexa 👍

Sneaky sneak ft Mihawk and Lucky Roo

A/N Alright the title is kinda weak but I have nothing, also this is pretty weak especially the part with too so i’m sorry holo 🥲 I am late and lack in

Reader here is replaced with Dokucha for the enjoyment of both reader and oc character readers

Dokucha grinned, realizing the room they had sneaked into was the armory. Their eyes shined in excitement as they examined all the weapons in the room, hopping, crawling, and sneaking around the glittering artifacts until a specific one called their attention.

Grinning, they climbed down from the small ledge they had climbed to take a peek at a bow; they approached the familiar weapon, lips slightly parted in awe as they stood in front of the sword.

"No way…" they muttered gingerly touching the handle of the sword as thoughts raced through their mind.

"It's so beautiful…the best quality leather in the market wrapped on the handle with a lapis lazuli encrusted on the pummel," they muttered, eyeing the large jewel and rubbing the leather, shivering at the supple, slightly grainy texture.

"A half-a-meter gold hand-carved guard with jade and tanzanite on the quillon and the Ricasso," they gushed, eyes twinkling in amazement as their hand lowered to the body of the sword

"A black blade; it could have been his haki, but maybe it was forged like this, put in heat time after time to get such a beautiful obsidian color, and they even added hand-carving to its fuller."

"And it's-

"Not yours to he touching." A stern voice cut in, taking a firm but gentle hold of their hand as it began inching toward the edge of the blade

"Ah! Dad! What are you doing here? " they yelled, their eyes wide as they jumped back from the man, arms now crossed on his chest as he stared them down.

"That is hardly the question here, isn't it?" He questioned, raising an eyebrow, watching as the child began to fidget and look away from the man, trying to put their sight on anything but him.

"I just ended up here; I was going to leave….but then I saw you, and I got a lil distracted."

Mihawk stared at the child, his frown softening until he let out a chuckle. A rare amused smile grew on his face, though he was quick to erase it.

"You know you are not supposed to be here, " he chided, shaking his head as he took hold of his sword. His amusement grew as the move instantly caught the attention of the child.

"However, I will forgive it this time since I see you have been keeping up with your readings," he called, glancing at them; he noticed this caused their attention to switch to him, placing Yoru in its rightful place behind him.

"How about I teach you some hands-on lessons on the art of the swords?" He suggested turning around and making his way out of the room

"Yes!" They hollered, scrambling to follow after the man

"Oi, have you found them yet?!" Hongo called, his voice echoing across the deck, and various negative responses echoed back, much to his annoyance.

"Commander Hongo, do you think they might have followed Shanks out of the ship?" A crewmember questioned, scratching his neck as he looked around the deck for the child

"No, they're a rascal, but they know the consequences won't be light if they leave the Force without permission; they know better," Hongo huffed out.

"This would be so much easier if Yassop were here; he's the only one that can bypass their presence masking," he muttered, calling out to the crewmates to continue their search as he joined them.

"Ha! That's right! Without Uncle Yassop here, they have no chance!" They snickered from below them as they hid on the gun's deck, browsing through the different weapons that were kept alongside the canons

"Oh! They keep the grenades here! Sweet!" They cheered, grabbing the small sphere with a mischievous grin on their faces, until a hand grabbed it from their hands, causing them to shoot up.

"U-Uncle Roo!" they gaped, watching the grinning back as he put the grenade back where they had found it.

"Ha! Ha! That's true, but you still have to find a good hiding spot if you don't want the rest of us to find you," he called teasingly

"You're not supposed to be here," he stated, letting out a small laugh as they just looked away.

"You can't sneak here every time he leaves; you know we are going to find you."

"…are you goin' To tell Dad?"

"Hm, I could! But I could also cut you a deal," he snickered, taking a bite from the usual chicken leg on his hand.

"Deal?"

"You finish your chores, and I won't tell him."

"Ugh!"

I thought I was cookin

Taglist:

@Imaginarydreams

@amethystviolin

@h0n3y-l3m0n05

@hannahbarberra162

@epochal-oracle

44 notes · View notes

ladynyoko · 23 hours ago

Text

Jonah's Enucleation

So this is going to be a long post. I apologize for that in advance. I've been sort of blowing up @talesfromtreatment's ask box since Sunday morning going through a hell of a rollercoaster with my dog. (Again, sorry about that. Not sure if you read any of it, but if you haven't feel free to delete those messages and just read this post instead if you want to know what I've been using your ask box as a sounding board about for the last 48-ish hours.)

This all starts Saturday.

We have a Beagle/Jack Russell mix. His name is Jonah. He's around 8-ish years old and, tragically, a beagle with all that entails. He's a good dog - but he's got loud opinions and can't help himself around food or cat toys. He wears sweaters in the winter when it's cold. He has a favorite blanket. He's overweight but we've been working on it.

Saturday morning, when we woke up, everything was normal. As the day went on, he started acting like he does on his bad pain days. He's had Lyme in the past and while he tests negative now, he has what I can only describe as flare ups. He'll get listless, go off his food, and just be miserable for a day before he perks up and is just fine the next day. We have prescription painkillers for if a flare up lasts particularly long or he's really uncomfortable. But this looked like a mild one, all things considered.

Saturday evening, when I let him out for the night, I noticed a little bit of odd behavior. He walked straight into the screen door on his way back in. "Huh, that's odd." I thought. But it was dark out, and the screen door was in a different spot than usual because of some ground shifting after our recent cold snap - I wasn't able to open it all the way like I usually do. He didn't seem to find his treat as quickly as usual either. But I figured, he's getting older. Maybe his vision's going a little. He already has his annual scheduled in March - I'll bring it up with his vet then.

I didn't get a chance.

Sunday morning, when we woke up, he was blind. In the short span of 24 hours, he'd completely lost his vision.

We knew something was wrong. We checked the hours for our local animal urgent care, and resolved to take him in the second they opened.

And once they had, we loaded him and his favorite blanket up in the car, and drove straight there. There was another emergency ahead of us. The clinic was busy. Not surprising - it was the only place within an hour's drive that was open today. Everyone with an urgent problem would be going there today. Still, we weren't waiting very long before they brought us back to one of their two exam rooms and started intake.

We didn't wait long for the vet either.

It's a vet we know. She's saved our cat's life before. (Some of you may remember Lily, if you've been following me for a long time. We had to do signal boost fundraising for her years back after a near death experience.) We trust her implicitly. She looks over Jonah and confirms our suspicions. He's completely blind. But why he's suddenly gone blind is what we're there to find out.

After examining him, she suspects glaucoma. It wasn't something I even knew dogs could get. On the way there, I'd been running through the worst fears I could think of. Had his thyroid medication tipped him the other way into hyperthyroidism? Had we missed diabetes? Was it a brain tumor?

We were prepared for a lot of things. Glaucoma sounded easy! My mom has borderline glaucoma! Just eye drops to control his pressure and keep up with his annuals, and he'll be fine, right?

So back to the waiting room we went while they started his tests. We requested a comprehensive blood panel to rule out any other possibilities, which the vet agreed to do in addition to his eye pressure check and a test to check his moisture levels in his eyes as well.

We wait for a bit, they bring him back out, and we get his test results. Blood panel looks good. Eyes are a tiny bit on the dry end of normal range. But his eye pressure is through the roof. Glaucoma confirmed. No big! We just need to get his eye pressure down and then we can get him on maintenance drops and follow up with our regular vet.

Except that isn't how it happens.

He gets his first round of drops. We wait thirty minutes. He gets a second round, because his pressure was really high, another thirty minutes. They retest. The pressure in his right eye is down. But his left eye has continued to climb. We do another couple rounds of drops. Another retest. His right eye has stabilized. His left eye has not. They give him a narcotic for the pain. We try another medication - one that the vet didn't want to use because it's extremely uncomfortable for the dogs but at this point we need to get this under control. Drops every fifteen minutes. Waiting. Agonizing. We talk about next steps. The vet consults with a specialist in a larger city. Jonah has calmed thanks to the narcotic and is laying on his blanket on the floor of the waiting room.

After nearly six hours at animal urgent care, the pressure in his right eye finally comes down. It's still high, but the vet doesn't want to keep him any longer. We're discharged with a steroid to control the inflammation and hopefully manage the pain, an antibiotic because we just spent nearly six hours fussing with his eyes and don't want them infected, and the drops to control his eye pressure. We're given strict instructions to follow up with our regular vet the next day and have his pressure retested as soon as we're able.

Exhausted, we bring our extremely drugged dog home. He pees in the front yard and spends the rest of the evening on his blanket on the couch. I give him his first dose of medication without incident. Then his second. Mom goes to bed. I promise to wake her if I need help giving him his third dose.

He sleeps on the couch. Our cat joined him at some point between his third dose and the time I came up for his fourth. His narcotics are starting to wear off now. He cries when I go to gently pull his eyelid back to medicate his left eye. His eye looks worse. He's in pain. I feel bad but I know I have to do this and thankfully I manage on my own. He settles down and I go to bed, resolved to wake in four short hours for his next dose.

The next morning I wake up for his next dose of meds. Pressure drops then steroids. His eye hasn't improved. I start to worry. I'm afraid of what we'll find when we drop him off at the vet. Has his left eye continued to trend downwards or has it shot back up? We won't know until he gets tested. Our other dog has a grooming appointment. Mom leaves to take him to that. I stay home with Jonah. I call our vet and let them know what's going on. Ask if we can drop him off. The tech tells me the vet won't be in for another hour and she'll call me back as soon as she's talked to them.

I lay down on the couch with Jonah and try to get a little more sleep. I wake up in an hours - he needs his antibiotic now. The vet calls and agrees to a drop off appointment. I drive him in with his blanket, all his medications, and the meal he hadn't eaten that morning. I let them know everything that's happened in the last 24 hours. He hasn't eaten or drank anything since the previous morning. I worry.

Mom gets home with our freshly groomed other dog. We talk about what we're going to do. We've stretch our budget thin paying for his urgent care visit the previous day. We know the next step is to remove the eye that we can't get under control - a $2,000-$3,000 surgery. Way out of our budget. But we don't want him to be in pain. We resolve that if his pressure has gone up again, we'll have him put to sleep rather than have him suffer any longer.

The waiting game starts again. A few hours later, we get the call. The vet retested his eyes three times. The right has completely stabilized. The left has shot up again. We're devastated. We know what's best for him. What has to be done. We let the vet know, and schedule to come to the office in three hours to see him across the rainbow bridge, after we've had time to inform His Boy who now lives two hours away with a family of his own.

We're all emotionally drained by this point. We've cried off and on. It's hard to talk about it without crying. The urgent care vet calls us to see how he's doing and we tell her the bad news.

Monday afternoon, we drive to the vet's office. We try not to break down into tears in the waiting room, knowing what's coming. Knowing we'll be led into the quiet Goodbye Room they have, with its nice couch and soft pastel walls and privacy.

We get called up to the tech and are met with a question.

"If money weren't a problem, what would you do?" I reply without thinking. "Get rid of the damn eye." She tells us that there's another option. There's a friend of the office who offers financial assistance for cases like ours. Young, otherwise healthy animals with decent prognoses whose owners just can't afford the treatment they need. She only asks what we can afford to pay, and she'll pay the rest. No need to repay her. We're overcome. There's the smallest glint of hope.

We ask when we'd have to pay, because we'd just tapped everything we had for his urgent care appointment. She offers to talk to the vet. The vet agrees. We're clients in good standing who've proven again and again how much we care for our pets. The entire office hated what was about to happen because we just couldn't afford a treatment. For us, they'll defer payment until our next check comes in.

Overcome, we schedule the surgery. Jonah is brought out to us, now on painkillers and in significantly better spirits. (Although some of that may be attributed to a dirty secret they shared with us. One of the girls in the office had a birthday that day, you see. And, thinking it was his final day, they'd spoiled him fucking rotten. He may have diarrhea tonight, the tech says apologetically. We just laugh.)

On February 4th, Jonah's left eye will be removed. His right eye will remain. He'll be blind for the rest of his life. But he'll be alive and out of pain and that was always the goal we were aiming for. We still have a heavy financial burden, but he's worth it. He's so, so worth it. We're going to have so many more years to enjoy him and all his tragically Beagle crimes.

#pet illness #good outcome

29 notes · View notes

before-it-felt-like-a-sin · 2 days ago

Text

Good Luck, Babe! [3]

Pairing: Jackie Taylor x Fem! reader

Final installment of the Good Luck, Babe! (Parts one and two are linked here!) trilogy, at least of the Jackie parts. Happy ending, mild angst at the beginning, mildly suggestive at the end. Mostly reader and Jackie being cute and happy.

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

The thing was, the answer was a no-brainer.

You wanted Jackie. Nat was nice, to fill the void. To kiss and fuck and show off. Not that you didn't care about her, you did.

But Jackie.

Her stupid, radiant smile. The way she'd blush and giggle whenever you did something affectionate. How she'd call you late at night when her parents were asleep, and the two of you would talk late into the night.

Honestly, you could handle the hiding. You could deal with the fact she wasn't ready to be totally open about the two of you. And you believed her when she said she was sorry.

Not to say that you weren't worried. You were. It was hard to trust someone who had broken your heart so spectacularly. Shattered it even, into pieces that were hard to pick up without hurting yourself. How were you supposed to just go back to someone who did that? even if they were your first love?

You'd made your decision, though. You just had to get up the courage to tell her. And to tell Nat.

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

That was how you found yourself behind the bleachers, searching for Natalie. You'd resolved to tell her first, to break it off with her. Whatever it was you two were doing. You didn't want to lead her on

When she saw you approaching, she shooed her friends off, making sure that the two of you were alone. She looked calm, nonchalant, a cigarette (or a blunt, you weren't sure) held between her fingers.

"Hey." She smiled, but made no move to come closer to you. It seemed she already knew what was about to happen.

"Hi. Uh, sorry I didn't drive you home the other day. I'm sure that wasn't a fun ride." You were stalling, and both of you knew it.

"Wasn't too bad. Awkward, for sure. But she didn't start cussing me out for sleeping with her girl." She pauses for a moment, looking at you intently. "We both know why you're really here, y/n. You're not subtle about the way you look at her."

"I'm sorry." And you are, for dragging Nat into the mess that was you and Jackie. For sleeping with her to get over someone else.

She shrugs, and honestly doesn't look too put out by it. "It's fine, relax. We both knew this wasn't gonna last. Just don't make it weird."

Nat's still smiling, and you can't help but grin yourself. You knew she wasn't likely to start crying, or begging you to stay, but it was a relief to see she didn't even seem slightly upset.

"Thanks, Nat," you say, and she waves you off.

"Yeah, yeah. Go get your girl, or whatever.'

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

You do not, in fact 'go get your girl'. What you do is go straight home to stare at the ceiling. You still had to figure out how to tell Jackie. Why was this harder than breaking things off with Nat?

Well, you knew why. Because you were terrified that things would happen the way they did before. That you'd go running back to her, and Jackie would be to worried about appearances to love you in the way you needed. She'd go back to Jeff, go back to something she felt safe with. And you'd be hung out to dry.

Honestly, you considered just... not saying anything to her. Not being with her or Nat. Maybe that was what was best for you in the long run, anyway. No complicated relationships with girls you weren't sure could be with you the way you wanted.

Staring at the ceiling, unsurprisingly, was not helping. It was just reinforcing negative thoughts, making you overthink every possible outcome. But you still couldn't get up the courage to tell Jackie. The fear was too strong.

You wished you could talk to someone about it, but the only two people that would understand were Nat and Jackie. The two people you simply couldn't go to. It was miserable, lying there.

Then, you started wondering what Jackie was thinking. If maybe, she was worried that you had decided not to be with her. That you were just... continuing to ignore her, like you had been since you were broken up.

If maybe, she'd decided to move on.

That thought scared you worse than anything else about the situation had. What if you'd broken things off with Natalie for no reason?

Of course, being alone wasn't a bad thing, necessarily. But then you'd have to continue to get over Jackie while not having the comfort of someone else. Maybe it wasn't healthy, but it had at least worked. A little.

You weren't always known for making the best decisions.

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

Another full week went by before you finally got up the courage to talk to Jackie. She'd been avoiding you, like se did before, but this time it was different. It wasn't complete ignorance. She'd smile at you in class, or wave at you in the hallway. This avoidance seemed to stem from fear that if she talked to you, you'd reject her. Tell her that no, actually you weren't into her anymore, that you wanted Nat.

Finally, though, you found it in yourself to tell her. To trust her with your heart again. Even though she had been the one to break it in the first place. Again, you weren't known for good decisions.

You’d decided that you’d tell her after school, slip a note in her locker and ask her to meet you at your car. You hoped she wouldn’t freak out, since she didn’t exactly know why you were asking to meet her.

You slid the note into the slits on her locker in your final passing period, hoping both that she'd see it, and that she wouldn't be too anxious during the last class of the day. You could be stupid, sure, but not cruel. You didn't want her to be apprehensive to see you.

The following hour crawled by, and you could barely pay attention to your teacher. History wasn't what you were worried about, not in the slightest. Instead, you were trying to calm your nerves about talking to Jackie.

Honestly, you had no idea why you were so nervous. She was the one who wanted you back. You had the power in the situation. Yet there was still that nagging feeling, the concern that maybe this was a joke, or that she didn't mean it.

You spent the entirety of class gathering the courage to talk to Jackie, and even as you walked to your car, you weren't entirely ready. You weren't even sure that she'd gotten the note.

That fear faded, however, when you saw her standing by your car as you walked towards it. So she had seen. And she wanted to talk to you, too. That was good, at least.

You felt your nerves heighten as you got closer, heart beating quickly in your chest. Steeling yourself, you approached her. She wasn't smiling, but she didn't appear upset either. Honestly, she was pretty hard to read.

"Hey..." you started, anxiety seeping into your words. You still weren't sure how you wanted to do this, what exactly you wanted to say.

"Hi," she replied, tone short.

"First off, I'm sorry I didn't talk to you sooner. I just... needed time to think things over, you know?" You can't make eye contact, even though you desperately want to. You're praying that you don't look like an idiot as you stand there.

She nods slowly, like she understands but isn't happy about it. You get that, understanding that she probably hated being left in the dark for so long.

"I like you, Jackie. A lot. Maybe even more than I should. It really fucking hurt me, when I saw Jeff leaving your house that day. You're scared, I get that. This, us, being with a girl, that's all new to you. But what you did? That's still wrong. Having him in your house without telling me was shitty of you. I can't do that again." It takes a lot for you to get that out, the words feeling heavy on your tongue. It's not that you want her to feel bad, but you do want her to understand why you were so upset.

Jackie sighs, tension seeping out of her body. She honestly looks defeated, like she doesn't know how to continue. She seems to find words, though.

"What exactly are you saying?" she asks, looking a bit apprehensive.

"If we're going to do this again, we have to do it right. I'm not saying you have to come out, or we publicly need to be a couple. I don't want to pressure you into anything." You pause for a moment, letting your words sink in. "But I can't deal with you playing couple with anyone. Even if it's just to keep up appearances. I can't go through that again. I have to know you want me, and just me."

She looks at you a moment, clearly processing, before she gives a slight nod. "That... that's understandable. I can do that. I- I'm not sure I'm ready to like, scream anything from the rooftops. But I can commit to you."

"Good." You smile, wanting to reach out, but knowing it's too risky. Even with the parking lot mostly empty, people could still see. "I'll pick you up tonight, then."

You confidence is suddenly back, renewed by Jackie's response to your words. She looks at you, surprised.

"For what?"

"I'm taking you out," you reply, and when she freezes, you add, "It's a restaurant like two towns over. No one's gonna be there."

She visibly relaxes at that, looking at you with a genuine smile on her face. "What time?"

"Seven. That way, we can still make it to the party tonight. If you're feeling up to it, at least."

The grin is still plastered on her face, and she gives a little nod. "Yeah. Yeah, I can be ready at seven. What should I wear?"

"Jax, just wear whatever. It's not super fancy, or classy, or whatever. There isn't a dress code or anything." You shrug, leaning on your car.

"Okay... um, see you at seven, then?" She seems nervous, but excited. You nod, and with that she offers you one more smile before waling in the direction of her car.

You get into your own car, still a little worried about what might happen between the two of you. Yet, you were happy. She was sorry, she was working on it. You'd be okay.

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

Six-thirty p.m., and you were panicking. Well, not panicking. But absolutely worried.

You couldn't get your hair to sit right, your necklaces kept getting tangled, and none of your outfits looked good. This was literally your nightmare.

For what seemed like the thousandth time in the last hour, you tossed another outfit onto the floor, and flopped onto your bed with a sigh. You had no idea what you wanted to wear, what would impress Jackie the most.

Momentarily, you had the fleeting thought to cancel your date. But no, you couldn't do that. Not after everything else that happened. You finally had Jackie back, you didn't want to lose her because you couldn't pick out a fucking outfit. You weren't twelve.

Begrudgingly, you stood up, rummaging through your closet for a new shirt. When you found one, you put it on, looking in the mirror. Not bad. You didn't have time to find a different pair of pants, so you pulled on your favorite pair. Maybe it wasn't exactly what you wanted, but you looked good. And Jackie would appreciate that.

Smoothing out your hair one final time (your necklaces were a lost cause), you walked out to your car, grabbing your keys on the way.

The drive to Jackie's wasn't long, and you got there a couple minutes before seven. She was waiting on the porch for you, and she looked absolutely stunning. Not that you had any thoughts that she wouldn't.

Her hair was loose and wavy, falling onto bare shoulders. The weather had finally warmed enough to wear tank tops, and she was taking full advantage of that. The babydoll tank she had on was a light blue gingham pattern, and she paired it with jeans. You noticed her carrying a jean jacket over her arm, and you assumed it was for if she got cold at the party later.

In short, she looked perfect.

You made your way up to meet her, grinning the whole way. "You look great."

"So do you," she replies, a smile lighting up her face. For a moment, both of you stand there awkwardly until she gestures towards your car. "You ready to go?"

Nodding, you snap yourself out of whatever trance Jackie had somehow put you in. As soon as she sees your head move, she practically skips over to your car, opening the passenger door and getting inside.

As you slide into the drivers seat, you turn towards her with a teasing smile. "You're supposed to let me open that for you, you know."

"Oh, yeah. Right. I'll let you get it next time." She flushes, even though she can tell you're joking. It's adorable, seeing her like this. You missed it.

"Relax, I'm messing with you. But I will get the door next time."

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

The drive passes quickly, the two of you catching up on everything that happened since you'd broken up. Soccer had been going well, which you knew. The whole school had been buzzing about the Yellowjacket's win streak. It was nice to hear from Jackie, though. How exactly everything had played out.

True to your word, when you parked the car in the restaurant parking lot, you opened the passenger door for her. You even held your hand out for her to take as she stepped out of the car.

"Thanks."

"Anytime, Taylor."

Jackie was practically glued to your side as you walked inside, and you couldn't ignore how happy the action made you. She stood next to you all throughout speaking to the hostess, even kept a hand on your forearm.

"Right this way," The woman said, leading you to a table near the windows.

"This place is really nice," Jackie murmured, gazing around the building.

"Romantic?"

"Yeah." Her voice was still quiet, but at the same time, excited. She seemed genuinely happy to be on this date with you, and you were glad.

"What're you getting?" you ask, opening the menu. Jackie stared at it a moment, reading through all the different options.

"I have no idea, there's so many options and so many look good."

"We could get two different things and split them?" She brightened when you asked, clearly hoping you'd say something like that.

"That would be nice, yeah." She nudged your foot underneath the table, catching your eye as you looked up at her.

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

Dinner went perfectly, the two of you talking the entire time. It felt like a real date. Sure, you'd been on dates with her before, but this was different. Real.

She held your hand as you walked to your car, interlocking your fingers together. It was dark out, by now, and a little chilly. But nothing that you couldn't handle.

When you got back to your car, as promised, you opened the door for her. Unexpectedly, though, she pulled you into a kiss.

Jackie.

Jackie kissed you.

It was soft, just a peck, really. But she'd still done it, still pulled you in for a kiss in the middle of the parking lot.

"Thank you. For tonight, for giving me another chance."

"I'd be stupid not to take you back."

She grinned as she slid into the passenger seat, and when you got into the car, she gave you an almost nervous look. "I was wondering... would you maybe want to skip the party? Go back to yours?"

"Are you saying what I think you're saying, Jackie?" You were surprised, to say the least, but she nodded shyly, and it took all of your strength not to take her right then and there.

"I'm down for a change in plans."

#raecore i suppose #yellowjackets #yellowjackets showtime #jackie taylor #jackie taylor x reader #jackie taylor x you #yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets x you

31 notes · View notes

musclesandhammering · 2 days ago

Text

(sorry, I had to respond in a reblog because I ran out of characters in my reply)

I’m sorry if I had an attitude with my reply!! I feel bad about commenting now cause I usually make a point not to bring my anti attitude onto pro posts & vice versa. I really did get a laugh out of it just because of my *insert shocked Mr krabs meme* when I realised we were on different pages lol- not because I thought your tags were wrong, just because I expected it to go in a different direction.

I probably did let some passive aggression slip in there, though, just because I always feel like Dean is largely a fandom sweetheart (especially among shippers) and usually when he’s criticised, it’s met with outrage and accusations. I should’ve been more careful not to project that onto your post, though, because i don’t even disagree with anything you mentioned.

Like… people trying to make Sam into the one who always pushed back against John and stood up for the “good” monsters and tried to protect Jack and didn’t want to kill demon vessels, while Dean did all the opposite? Yeah, definitely not. Part of the complexity of their dynamic is that they were both problematic in different ways and a lot of their issues overlap. I SO agree with you on that.

That being said, I will mention that a large part of my issue with both the character and the fans (not you in specific, I’m just speaking generally) is the exact thing you made the post about- just in the opposite direction. People insisting certain things about him are hard canon when they’re either strongly up to interpretation or just flat out fanon. I see the things I mentioned as examples of this.

And I really think like 80% of it (particularly the early seasons stuff- the porn thing and the slut shaming and jailbait comments etc etc) is that, at the time, the writers just genuinely didn’t see anything wrong with any of that stuff, so they didn’t intend those things to be negative traits on Dean’s part. They just wanted to give him some edginess and some funny one liners. Which is annoying but understandable. But now we can look back at it and say “yea so that was.. iffy” and it results in some Dean fans either calling it ooc (which.. unfortunately, it’s not) or twisting themselves into knots to explain why those things weren’t actually that bad or he only said them because of internalised whatever whatever etc… that’s a bit irritating.

The only other issues I have are how some deangirls have a slight disconnect when it comes to his actual personality (ie emphasising his protectiveness/brotherly love and brushing over his domineering behaviour and anger issues). But I mean samgirls and casgirls do that too- it’s just kinda natural to focus on your fav’s best traits and ignore their worst ones.

The other thing is his sexuality. …Listen. I’m queer myself so I know how frustrating it is to see such a perfect opportunity to make a character bi/gay- to see so many little hints and offhand comments that could have been developed into something if the writers weren’t cowards- and have to admit that all those bits of “evidence” never got solidified into anything… but they just didn’t. I’m being completely genuine. It’s so so easy to read Dean as bi via interpretational subtext, and I don’t disagree with anyone doing that… but canonically? He’s not. It’s a missed opportunity and it’s unfair as hell but he’s just not. Jensen has said he’s straight, the writers have, Dean himself has. Every bit of bi evidence can be explained away as a joke or coincidence.

And it really pains me to say that, because I get why people are so ready to die on the “Dean was intentionally queer coded” hill. But stating it as a fact, calling anyone who disagrees homophobic, letting the writers off the hook for chickening out by deluding themselves into believing bi!Dean is as good as canon when it likely never will be?? It’s so annoying. Especially when there’s other characters who (imo) were a bit more intentionally queer coded (like sam) or were outright confirmed to be lgbtq (like cas).

Again, I’m not shading you with any of this, cause I have no idea if you’ve said any of those things before. I’m just ranting out my opinions. I’d love to see your take on it, though! Seriously, I think it’s really cool that you were so nice about it and I’m really interested to hear your thoughts!!

(Reading back over this, I feel like my tone here sounds a little standoffish too, but I swear it’s not! I just don’t know how to convey emotions on the internet!! 😂😭)

so much supernatural discourse boils down to claiming a thing we actually see dean do on the show is something he would not do, claiming a thing we see dean specifically not do on the show is something he would do, claiming something all the main characters do is something dean alone is doing, or claiming something sam does on the show is something dean did.

and im so confused. because the answer is comically simple and it's a thing we all allegedly love doing and that is... watching supernatural?

#spn wank #anti dean winchester #anti destiel #supernatural #btw I know this is SUPER long so if you don’t want it clogging up your notes then feel free to lmk and I’ll delete it! no hard feelings :)

200 notes · View notes

toreadorcaretaker · 1 day ago

Text

The Beast Attacks Itself

OC x Sebastian LaCroix

Summary: Clement Gray (OC - bio here) loses a patient who looks like his sire and has a self-destructive episode. His protectiveness over LaCroix pulls him out of it. Image Source

TW: minor character death in a medical setting, thoughts of suicide, dissociation, lots of negative self-talk

The woman looks so soft even under the harsh lights of Trauma Care. Her short-cropped curls frame a face in the shape of a heart. She’s the spitting image of Sorcha, the sire whose soul sleeps dead inside of Clement Gray. And it’s been many, many minutes since she flatlined.

Ultimately, it only takes one person to wrestle the defibrillators out of Clement’s hands. But that person has to be a kindred. Clement has already bested three of his human coworkers and nearly electrocuted one of them on accident in his furious efforts to keep trying.

He gets out as soon as he realized that the woman is not coming back. Her vivid green eyes stare upward, unmoving. He doesn’t even know her name and now she’s gone, she’s gone because he was too late to help her. And Clement is an absolute hazard now.

He puts himself in the bathroom, much the way one puts hazardous waste in its proper safety disposal box.

He makes a strange noise too quiet to be a wail. Guilt presses against the back of his eyes like a physical nausea. In the mirror, his aura writhes violently with red and black pulsations. All three eyes are flooded onyx from the pupil dilation brought on by rage. He can feel his humanity slipping away, and whether it’s because of the loss of life, or because of his vicious response to his own guilt, he can’t say. But he looks at what’s in the mirror and all he can do is hate. Kill, says the beast. Kill whoever let that woman die. That would be him.

He's seen people looking this way plenty of times, and he found the beauty in it without even trying. LaCroix, for one. He doesn’t want to resent anyone for a fury like this, even himself, not ever. But here he is resenting it, and he’d better stop looking at himself or he’ll frenzy bad enough to break the glass (which is not his, and probably expensive).

At some point, he gets himself into a bathroom stall where he can’t cause a scene. At some point after that, he’s on the tile, slumped back against the wall. When did that happen? He can’t tell if there are people coming in and out of the surrounding stalls or if it’s just his imagination. It’s too chaotic inside his own head to distinguish that from the echoing footsteps around him. He’ll be useless tonight and maybe for several nights unless he does something.

Come on now. Don’t be a fucking coward who can’t even reach out for support. Do what you’d have Sebastian do. He slips something out of his pocket without looking down, still staring blankly at the stall door. A burner phone. LaCroix hates them. He’ll be glad for the excuse to throw both of theirs away.

He tries to type, “I’m not okay,” but it keeps slipping away into “are you okay” which frankly doesn’t make any sense as a first message. Instead he manages, “This a good time?”

“This had better be of the upmost urgency, Gray.” That’s a no.

Ugly thoughts break in. He’s already annoyed. He’ll hate you if you complain about your own mistakes like it isn’t your fault in the first place. He’ll hate you RIGHTLY.

No he won’t, stop it, stop thinking the worst of him. What, does no one except YOU have any mercy?

It’s not thinking the worst of him to think he’d hate your damned-to-hell self-pity. The man has taste.

He can’t tell which side of him is the beast preying on his own shame, and which is his better self. But it doesn’t matter. Clement feels something twist inside his gut again, enough pain to cut through the guilt. Just be honest. “I lost a patient.”

“I’m sorry.” Then, “It’s never easy. But such is the nature of taking responsibility for our fellow kindred. Such is life, and unlife.”

It should help, but it doesn’t. The thought of dismissing a life as easily as that sets him physically shaking. After pushing air in and out of his lungs a few times, he forces out a reply. “You’re right. But I can’t take that stance on it at the moment. Just not there yet.” That’s not the whole truth. How can he convey how bad things really are? “She wasn’t a kindred, she was human. She looked like my sire. I feel dangerous right about now.”

There’s no immediate answer. He can almost feel Sebastian’s impatience, his judgement – whether real or imagined. Suddenly it occurs to Clement that he’s not thinking about the girl anymore, he’s only thinking about himself, his own guilt, and guilt piles on top of guilt until it wrenches at him sickeningly again. Think about her, don’t think about her – it doesn’t matter. She’s dead. Nothing he can do will fix it. Nothing will help at all, except maybe to replace himself with another Salubri who won’t mess up so often. Find someone. Anyone. Go get diablerized before this can happen again.

LaCroix probably already threw away the burner phone. Maybe Clement is alone now. Better get his legs to unbend and get off the fucking floor.

He tries to send his legs the “stand up” signal. It’s not working. Not enough motivation. Why should he stand up, why should he walk out and be in public, if he’s the kind of person who lets someone die on his watch?

The phone buzzes, finally. “Forgive me, this isn’t exactly my specialty. A gentler tone is called for. What do you need?”

“No, it’s okay. I’m springing this on you like it’s nothing. You can tell me to stop talking, okay? But if you want to help, give me a task. Anything. I just want to do something. Be useful.”

There’s no hesitation this time. “Come home at once.” Clement's heart twists in desperate gratitude. The picture of Sebastian in his mind morphs: no longer scowling at the phone impatiently, but nervous, compassionate, probably pacing in front of his picture windows. How could he ever have thought otherwise? When it comes to matters between the two of them, Sebastian is really so kind.

“That’s not what I mean. Something for you.”

“I need you with me. You can’t worry me like this.” He types and erases several times. “Please.”

A switch flips instantly in Clement. “I’m coming. Destroy the phone.”

The legs are working now. He’s still zoned out badly enough that he’s losing pockets of time, but he’s moving. He’s in the hallway, saying something to his supervisor that he won’t remember later, about how he’s not fit to work at the moment. She’s far too kind in response, by his estimation. Then he’s at his locker, once again dressed in the clothes that LaCroix hugged that evening before he left for work. They still smell like his cologne.

Outside in the rain, he starts to come back to himself. He doesn’t trust himself to drive and calls a cab instead, but at least he’s not fighting his beast anymore. He’s in harmony with it. His own reflection looks back at him again, from the rain-streaked window this time. It’s still pouring off a radiant darkness. But Sebastian’s probably looks the same way right now, out of fear for his sake. How many soldiers did Sebastian lose, in how many wars? And yet the Prince deserves so much happiness.

Yes, reason is coming back now. How could Clement hurt anyone who even resembles the man he loves? He won’t, he can’t – he’ll stand against anyone who would. I am an instrument for his defense. I am needed. Fuck you if you come between Sebastian and what he needs.

The beast and the man chant in unison: Make it home for him. For him. For him. For him.

#oc clement gray #salubri oc #vtm fic

19 notes · View notes