#sterile process tech

[pttedu]

With technical expertise it is essential to have some problem-solving skills for becoming a sterilization technician. Read more to learn about its importance.

[moabhealthcare]

Hire A Certified Surgical Tech Travel Agency

https://moabhealthcare.com/ - Moab Healthcare is a leader in the healthcare staffing industry. Their mission is to bridge critical labor and leadership gaps in hospitals. Their highly experienced travel staff to improve surgical throughput and patient safety. They provide the Best Surgical Tech Travel.

[xitsensunmoon]

HOW TO GLAZE YOUR WORK WITHOUT A GOOD PC(or on mobile)/TIPS TO MAKE IT LESS VISIBLE

Glaze your work online on:

Cara app. It requires you to sign up but it is actually a good place for your portfolio. Glazing takes 3 minutes per image and doesn't require anything but an internet connection compared to 20-30 minutes if your pc doesn't have a good graphic card. There IS a daily limit of 9 pictures tho. Glazed art will be sent to you after it's done, by email. It took me 30 minutes to glaze 9 images on a default setting. Cara app is also a space SPECIFICALLY for human artists and the team does everything in their power to ensure it stays that way.

WebGlaze. This one is a little bit more complicated, as you will need to get approval from the Glaze team themselves, to ensure you're not another AI tech bro(which, go fuck yourself if you are). You can do it through their twitter, through the same Cara app(the easiest way) or send them an email(takes the longest). For more details read on their website.

Unfortunately there are no ways that I know of to use Nightshade YET, as it's quite new. Cara.app definitely works on implementing it into their posting system tho!

Now for the tips to make it less visible(the examples contain only nightshade's rendering, sorry for that!):

Heavy textures. My biggest tip by far. Noise, textured brushes or just an overlay layer, everything works well. Preferably, choose the ones that are "crispy" and aren't blurred. It won't really help to hide rough edges of glaze/nightshade if you blur it. You can use more traditional textures too, like watercolor, canvas, paper etc. Play with it.

Colour variety. Some brushes and settings allow you to change the colour you use just slightly with every stroke you make(colour jitter I believe?). If you dislike the process of it while drawing, you can clip a new layer to your colour art and just add it on top. Saves from the "rainbow-y" texture that glaze/nightshade overlays.

Gradients(in combination with textures work very well). Glaze/nightshade is more visible on low contrast/very light/very dark artworks. Try implementing a simple routine of adding more contrast to your art, even to the doodles. Just adding a neutral-coloured bg with a darker textured gradient already is going to look better than just plain, sterile digital colour.

And finally, if you dislike how glaze did the job, just try to glaze/shade it again. Sometimes it's more visible, sometimes it's more subtle, it's just luck. Try again, compare, and choose the one you like the most. REMEMBER TO GLAZE/SHADE AFTER YOU MADE ALL THE CHANGES, NOT BEFORE!!

If you have any more info feel free to add to this post!!

[benevolentwanderer]

This is great info!!! There's a gel-form veterinary supportive rodent diet that would probably work well, but it may not be consumer-available...

IMO it's a good idea to familiarize pets with being in species-appropriate restraint grips BEFORE they develop health issues - if being picked up with the grip(s) is an occasional part of playtime (and surrounded by positive social bonding!!!) it's less stressful if they need that handling to observe or treat conditions later. (...Which is hopefully going to be the case, bc with a venerable age comes potential health issues!)

It may also be worth finding mushy foods a specific rat likes in advance of needing to mix meds in them - that way, a short-term med becomes "that week where the mashed banana was kinda crappy" instead of "I have identified a new NONFOOD". Likewise, for longer-term meds, not consistently using a single vehicle should make it a little harder for negative associations to build up. It's also fun to get to know your pets better :D

Just to reinforce OP's point, waiting for them to lick meds drop by drop is probably ok, but DO NOT ASSUME you can safely give an oral med by syringe. You don't want yourself (or someone you with the task like a vet) to be the reason your pet is injured, and forced oral admin is really dangerous even in a best-case scenario!!!!!!!!!!

Random rat-care tip of the day:

If you have to give your rats oral medication, try to maintain that they willingly take the medicine. If you have to force your rat to take it then they are likely to never willingly take it again. This is a testament to just how easy it is for a rat to be conditioned to never eat food they have a bad experience with, even if it was only 1 bad instance

[spadesolace]

leading lady - 1.4. getting the role (of tissue papers) [half written]

previous | next

it was a bit awkward to explain to the nurse how y/n ended up getting a nosebleed and a reddened forehead with a panicking minji. the nurse couldn’t even understand what she was saying as y/n held her by the arm trying to calm her down.

in the small sterile clinic, y/n sat stiffly by the edge of the bed, an ice pack pressed against the bridge of her nose, while her other hand was clutching onto a bloodied handkerchief. her gaze would briefly shift between minji then onto the handkerchief. she had placed a tissue paper on her nose. 

minji stood beside her, gently holding onto another ice pack to her forehead. both would look at the other then quickly look away with one thought in mind ‘this is awkward’.

“i’m sorry.” it was quiet, the awkward tension still lingering between them. “i’m so sorry… i should have been more careful.”

“it’s fine,” her voice was slightly muffled. “accidents happen.”

she shifted slightly, wincing a bit as she looked up at her. her expression softening as minji quickly glances at her then away. ‘cute.’

“you know…” minji looks up, not realizing how close their faces are. y/n wasn’t looking, her gaze fixated on the floor as she adjusted the ice pack on her nose. “i remember you back in high school, kim minji, right?”

“yeah… how do you-“

“funny story.” y/n smiles, gaze still fixed to the floor as she tries to reach for the tissue paper - minji handed it to her. “i had a crush on you back then.”

‘till now actually’ she couldn’t admit that, but at least she’s doing something about this small crush she has had since high school.

minji blinked, holding onto the roll of tissue paper that almost slipped from the sudden revelation that the violet had a crush on her back in high school. 

“me?” she points at herself, as y/n nodded taking the tissue roll, a small fond smile on her face.

“yup, you were and still are so talented when you’re on stage like - you truly shine and i was merely there watching you rehearse that it felt like i was watching someone from broadway perform.”

she smiles, followed by a nervous yet genuine laugh that made y/n look up at her, eyes squinting a bit out of curiosity and confusion.

“sorry, it’s just-“

“that i blurt out a confession?” minji shook her head as she checked on y/n’s forehead, removing the ice pack and seeing that it’s no longer red. only their cheeks with a hint of blush from how bizarre this entire situation is.

“no, but i used to have a crush on you as well, but never really said anything.” y/n choked on her own spit as she looked up at minji, all this time there was something but she just chose not to say anything. clearing her throat as she sits up straight, directly looking at minji as her mind processes the confession.

“what?”

“i mean, you were pretty much popular back then and now-“ minji fixes y/n’s bangs, a fond smile as she looks at the older girl in front of her. a piece of tissue paper on her nose, a bit of dried blood on her upper lip, a shocked expression. “you’re a model, im violet. i’m surprised you had a crush on me.”

y/n couldn’t say anything, her mind filled with questions, what ifs - it's like she’s back in the tech booth admiring minji from afar even if she’s standing right in front of her. she feels something soft on her forehead for a second, the feeling lingering a bit as minji places her hand on top of hers, a gentle squeeze.

“they say kisses heal wounds.” kim minji kissed her forehead. y/n doesn’t understand where the boldness came from but she wants more of it. whatever minji is doing to her, she wants it - ‘fuck.’

“is that your way of making it up to me?” y/n tries to deflect those fleeting feelings that she once believed was gone. it was long buried until she saw her again, kim minji still has her wrapped around her finger.

minji laughs as she sits next to y/n, her hand gently placed on top of hers as she takes in the current state y/n is in. it’s funny, some would assume that y/n got into a fight and this was their way of confessing to each other their undying feelings. 

in reality, minji smacked a door onto y/n’s face.

after a few minutes of silence, y/n laughed, throwing away another bloody tissue paper. minji gave her the roll once more as she soon joined in on the laughter shared between them.

“can we-“ y/n stood up, throwing away all of the bloody tissue papers as she turned around back at minji. “-start over?” 

the younger girl nodded, stretching her hand out for y/n to take.

“hi, i’m kim minji and i’m sorry for smacking your face with a door.” she takes it, smiling as she looks up, her face now clear of any tissue paper shoved up her nose.

“im y/n, and you’re forgiven.” as they both let go, the curtain was then abruptly moved to the side as their respective friends came rushing and panting looking at the pair.

yeji was the first to check up on y/n, holding her by the cheek and moving her head side to side and pulling her down to further inspect any injuries. minji shook her head with a teasing smile as she watched y/n’s friends ask questions and check up on the girl.

“guys, i’m fine.” there’s a bright smile plastered on her face as she quickly glances at minji. “i had a great nurse.”

taglist [CLOSED]:

@awkwardtoafault @justme-idle @1luvkarina @bearyanon @khaepriv @lesleepyyy @yoontoonwhs @sserajeans @pandafuriosa60 @mightymyo @ehcyps @idkwhatim-doinghere101 @haerinsloverr @jisooftme @keiji-jin @greenniee @txtbrainrot @zhivaxo @multiliker @sixflame438

[fratttymatty]

Straight To The Top

(All characters are 18+)

Ryan Holden had always felt like he was stuck. At 28, his life felt like a loop, always the same. He had a decent job in a dull office, a small apartment, and a routine that left him unfulfilled. His world revolved around responsibilities—work, bills, gym visits, and the occasional bar hangout with friends who seemed to be moving forward with their lives, while he stayed in the same place.

Ryan wasn’t unhappy, exactly, but there was a deep-seated dissatisfaction that had been gnawing at him for years. His love life was a mess, and his struggles with his sexuality had always left him feeling isolated. Though he had always identified as gay, he never really felt connected to the gay community. His past relationships had been brief and unsatisfying, leaving him wondering if something was wrong with him. He’d tried to embrace his sexuality, but the truth was, he didn’t fit the stereotypical mold of a "gay guy." His lack of connection with others, both in and out of the queer world, led to endless frustration.

Ryan often thought about starting over. What if he could erase everything and become someone else entirely? Someone confident, successful, and—dare he dream—normal?

It started with a strange email one afternoon. It wasn’t spam. It wasn’t a phishing attempt. It was an offer from a company he’d never heard of: The Rebirth Corporation.

The subject line was simple: "A Chance for a Fresh Start"

The email spoke of a revolutionary service, one that promised to completely transform a person’s life—body, mind, and even sexuality. The process was expensive, but Ryan felt a strange pull. What if this was the chance he had been waiting for? A new life. A new identity. He clicked the link and skimmed through the website. The before-and-after photos were dramatic—people looking younger, healthier, and more confident. Most of the testimonials mentioned how they had completely reinvented themselves, and many even stated they had experienced a shift in their sexual orientation.

For someone like Ryan, who had always felt like an outsider, this seemed like the perfect solution. He could finally break free from his old, unsatisfying life and become the person he had always dreamed of being—someone who could fit in with the popular crowd, maybe even date a hot girl. He’d been tired of his awkward, disconnected self for so long. What did he have to lose?

Ryan booked a consultation. The days that followed were filled with medical screenings, psychological evaluations, and the overwhelming realization that he was about to undergo something radical. The procedure promised to not only reshape his body, but also alter his personality and sexual orientation. It was exactly what he needed, he told himself. No more confusion. No more loneliness. He just wanted to be someone people would look up to—someone who could confidently walk through life and leave his old self behind.

The procedure was intense.

He was led into a sterile, high-tech facility, where the doctors explained that he would be unconscious for several hours as the transformation took place. His body would be reshaped, his mind reprogrammed, and his personality restructured. It wasn’t just about changing his physical appearance—it was about making him into the person he should have been.

As the anesthesia took hold, Ryan’s last thought was that he couldn’t wait to wake up as someone else, someone better.

When Ryan woke up, everything felt... different.

He opened his eyes to a new world, a world where the reflection in the mirror no longer showed him, but someone else entirely. Gone was the scruffy, awkward 28-year-old man. In his place was an 18-year-old high school student with a sleek, athletic build and sharp features. His hair was tousled in a trendy way, his skin clear and glowing. He was taller, fitter, and far more attractive than he had ever been. As he touched his face, his fingers traced the sharp jawline, the chiseled cheekbones. It was almost like looking at a stranger.

His clothes had changed too—no more outdated shirts and jeans. He wore a simple Nike shirt, the logo boldly emblazoned on his chest. His grey sweatpants shorts clung to his newly defined legs, showcasing his athletic build, while his trainers—expensive, sleek, and effortlessly stylish—tied it all together. It wasn’t just comfortable; it was the kind of casual, athletic look that screamed confidence. His outfit screamed that he was a guy who knew how to take care of himself—and had the physique to back it up. It was the kind of outfit that would make any high schooler want to be him, or at least envy him.

But it wasn’t just his body that was different. The transformation went deeper.

Ryan—or whoever he was now—felt something snap inside him. His mind was clearer, sharper, more confident. Gone was the self-doubt that had plagued him for years. He stood straighter, feeling an almost overpowering sense of entitlement.

He wasn’t just physically changed; he was a completely different person now. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that Ryan had been a loser—a weak, confused guy who couldn’t even accept his sexuality. The new Ethan was the kind of guy who could walk into a room and demand attention. He was no longer shy or unsure. Now, he was confident. He was in control. He was better than the old Ryan.

Ethan couldn’t help but smile. For the first time in years, he felt like he had the world at his feet.

And then there was something else. His attraction to men—something that had been a constant part of his identity as Ryan—was gone. He didn’t even think about it. In fact, as he started to interact with people in his new life, he realized that he didn’t want to think about men at all. His thoughts were entirely focused on women.

He felt a strange, almost superior sense of self now. The idea of being attracted to men disgusted him. It wasn’t just that he didn’t want to be gay anymore; he felt like it was something beneath him. He wanted to be normal, to be the guy every woman wanted and every guy envied.

In fact, the idea of hanging out with his old friends—many of whom were gay—began to seem distasteful. He wasn’t one of them anymore. Why would he want to be associated with a group that always seemed so… needy? He was done with all that. Ethan Brooks was better than that. He was a straight guy, a guy who could take what he wanted in life.

At school, Ethan quickly became a presence. He was no longer the shy, introverted Ryan who kept to himself. He was a jock, a natural leader with a sharp tongue and a confidence that bordered on arrogance. He was the guy everyone noticed, the guy who could walk into a room and turn heads without even trying. And he loved it.

He started flirting with girls like it was second nature. He was charming, but with an edge—a kind of cocky arrogance that made him seem untouchable. His confidence wasn’t just alluring; it was commanding.

One girl in particular caught his attention: Amber. She was the epitome of a popular valley girl—blonde, bubbly, and effortlessly beautiful. A cheerleader and a member of the school’s social elite, Amber was used to guys falling all over her. But there was something about Ethan. His confidence, his athletic build, and that aura of cockiness made him irresistible. Amber didn’t waste time on guys who weren’t "top-tier," and Ethan was definitely top-tier now.

Amber, for her part, wasn’t one to waste time with anything "weird." She’d always thought gay people were... well, gross. She didn’t exactly know why, but she just couldn’t understand why guys would ever want to be with other guys. She much preferred the handsome, strong, straight athletes—guys like Ethan, who were popular and secure in their masculinity.

And so, when Ethan began showing interest in her, Amber didn’t hesitate. The fact that he seemed so different—more confident, more arrogant, and a little bit dangerous—was exactly what she loved. She wasn’t shy about flirting with him either.

She sidled up to him one afternoon in the hallway, giving him a big smile. “So, like, you’re totally new around here, huh?” she giggled. “I’m Amber, in case you didn’t know. I’m pretty much the cheerleader around here.”

Ethan flashed her a smirk. “I figured. You’ve got that ‘I’m important’ vibe,” he teased, leaning in close. “But I’m guessing you’re not one to just hang out with anyone, huh?”

Amber raised an eyebrow, tossing her hair. “Nope. You have to be seriously hot and totally straight to make my list.”

Ethan smirked again, his eyes scanning her body briefly. “Good thing I tick all the boxes then.”

Amber grinned, feeling herself blush just a little. She liked his attitude—it was the kind of cocky self-assurance she craved. There was something thrilling about being with a guy who didn’t just want her, but knew he could have her.

As the days went on, Ethan and Amber became inseparable. Amber was drawn to his confidence, and the way he commanded attention without even trying. They started dating, and while Amber enjoyed the idea of being with such a dominant guy, Ethan seemed to grow more and more dismissive of anything or anyone who didn’t fit into his new world.

The more Amber got to know him, the more she noticed his dismissive attitude toward anyone who seemed “weird,” or “different.” He constantly made offhand remarks about how people should just act “normal,” especially when it came to sexuality.

“Like, I seriously don’t get why anyone would want to be gay,” he said one day while the two of them hung out by his locker. “It’s just... ugh, you know? Like, why would any guy want to be with another guy? I’m just not into that at all.”

Amber nodded in agreement, her mind wandering. “Yeah, totally. It’s just so... gross. I mean, guys are supposed to like girls. That’s normal.”

Ethan laughed, glad to know Amber was on the same page. He liked the idea of being with someone who didn’t question him. Amber was everything he’d ever wanted—straight, pretty, and totally normal.

Ethan and Amber's relationship grew stronger. Ethan’s cocky attitude, combined with his irresistible confidence, made him the center of attention. And Amber, while enjoying his dominance, couldn’t help but feel a little proud. She knew she could change him, shape him into the perfect guy—a straight, athletic guy who was everything she had always dreamed of.

For Ethan, it was simple: He was on top now. He was in control. He had won.

[kenananamin]

All I ask, All I want

SHIBUYA SPOILERS... KINDA.

*This story will slightly alter the events during and after Shibuya.

Summary: Nanami makes his way to you after Shibuya in a delirious state and crashes into your apartment with severe injuries. He cannot process his current state and shows you what he was always worried you would see. You question everything you thought you knew about him and you're anxious to ask him for the truth but worried if he'll even survive. post-shibuya angst, worried nanami and reader, angst, pain... i'm sorry. happy ending ~2.7k words

I'm almost there, she's right past this alleyway.

Nanami slowly walks to your apartment and leans on a parked car for support. He can't hold his head up for longer than a few seconds at a time, but he's memorized your neighborhood after patrolling it so often for any curses that might hurt you as a non-sorcerer. I'm almost there, she's waiting for me...

———

You hear your door handle clanking and slowly get up from your bed without making any extra unnecessary noise. You grab your phone and open Nanami's contact just in case you need to call and lower your head to the door's peep hole. You smile as you see the very top of a familiar blonde head and open your door, "Oh gosh, I was about to panic call you until I — "

Nanami crashes into your entryway and you fall back to the floor when you see him. You're in shock and it takes you a moment to realize there was a bleeding man with severe burns in your entryway... and that man was Nanami Kento. Your brain catches up with the scene in front of you and you let out a blood-curling scream as you crawl towards your boyfriend. He's laying flat on the floor by now and the rug underneath him starts to soak up the blood from his shredded and burned skin.

"Nanami! Fuck, what do I do?! Kento!! Oh my god, oh my god," you reach for your phone but pause as you're about to call for an ambulance. Nanami had mentioned weeks ago that you should call his... friend if he ever had an emergency. You didn't understand at the time but Nanami said it was just a precaution he wanted to take early on. You look for the contact and find 'G.S. Emergency'. No answer. You look for the second emergency contact 'K.I. Emergency'. No answer.

You look at Ken who's shallow breathing has filled every corner of your apartment and soul. You place the call on speaker and start to ramble to the operator while hiding the cleaver knife-like object in his hand.

———

You thought something was off when Nanami would look behind the both of you and excuse himself for a second in the middle of your dates. Or when he'd tell you to stand still and close your eyes. Or when he told you to get inside first and you heard light grunting and his fast steps outside your door before he breathlessly entered the apartment.

You thought something was off, but you could have never imagined this. Nanami lay in a hospital bed, wrapped in special bandages, but you guys weren't in a hospital. It was a clean and sterile room, but you could open the large window and see a horizon of lined traditional temples.

You push any other thoughts away and return to your spot next to Nanami and clasp your hands together. You weren't sure who you were praying to this whole time, but you hoped that someone out there, anyone, was listening and taking pity on you.

———

Nanami wakes up and feels like he's floating. He can't feel the bandages he clearly sees on himself and especially — you. You were sitting on a chair near the foot of his bed with your arms crossed on the bed, sleeping peacefully. This must be heaven. There was no other reason why you'd be in this room with him, in Jujutsu Tech. No wonder he felt like he was floating, this was the afterlife that was being blessed upon him to spend another moment with you. Fleeting moment or a permanent heaven, Nanami wanted to touch you again, hear your voice, and look into his favorite pair of eyes.

"y/n," Nanami squeezes out your name from his dry throat. He doesn't have the strength to move his leg and try to shift your arms so he keeps repeating your name and nicknames to wake you up.

You had fallen asleep for the first time in a while but you hear your name very very softly. You open your eyes and see half of Nanami's face moving. You sit up and see him smile, "y/n. Hi baby."

You shove the chair back and stand up to touch what you can of his face while repeatedly pushing the button on the side of the bed, "Hi Ken, don't move too much, ok? You need to rest first."

He lazily smiles, looks at you with a half-closed eye and slowly says, "Thank you for seeing me off. I love you, y/n." Nanami gently closes his eyes right as Shoko comes in and you see him drift off.

"I love you, Kento," you whisper and kiss his knuckles as you feel the tears prickling your eyes again.

———

Nanami was finally awake. He woke up to see you sleeping on a small couch by the window where the sunset lightly reflected off your skin. He thought he was dead and he'd spend the rest of eternity with you in that room and right as he was finding peace and comfort with the idea, his student walked into the room with a tray of food and water.

"Na— Nanamin?" Yuji stared at his teacher and leaned out the door to scream for Shoko to hurry in.

Nanami starts to shush him and his previous thoughts of being in the afterlife shattered. There was relief to know he was alive, but his panic slowly started setting in when he wondered why you were in the room and just how much you knew.

Yuji and Shoko rush in and he can hear questions being asked and hands touching him to check on him, but he interrupts them without looking away from your sleeping figure, "Why is she here?" Nanami looks at them both, "What does she know?"

Yuji sits on the chair that Nanami had seen you in before and quietly starts to explain that he had left Shibuya after fighting Jogo. Nobody knew where Nanami was and some people believed they should look for his body only instead, predicting he'd be dead. Yuji shares that everything was shattered and hectic but they received a call to rush to a local hospital.

Shoko continues as Yuji grabs some new bandages, "Our van got to the hospital at the same time as the ambulance. y/n told them she was your wife to avoid any resistance in going with you and started fighting us when we wanted to take you. That was when I realized that she didn't know anything about us, about this world. She cried and begged to let the hospital take care of you, that only they would know what to do."

Nanami looks over to you and wishes your back was not turned to him so that he could see your face.

"We brought her with us too and let her stay in the room for everything so that she could see we would not hurt you," Shoko pauses in removing Nanami's bandage and whispers, "Nanami, you should tell her. Everything or just something — anything. She has not left the room since we brought you and she won't listen to any explanation from anyone. y/n said she'll wait for you and will only listen to your explanation."

Nanami rubs his eye and begins to wonder how to even start the conversation with you. This, this was exactly what he wanted to prevent. He tried to stay away from you so that you'd never find out about anything he did, he covered his tracks and continued his cover-story of being a salaryman. But even with all his efforts, he was drawn to you like a moth to a flame and was prepared to let himself drown in everything about you.

Nanami glances to his student who's sadly looking at your sleeping figure before turning to nod to Shoko.

"You know Shoko," Nanami takes a deep breath and turns back to you, "she was the only thing on my mind after Jogo. I walked passed some of the most gruesome scenes I have ever seen in my time as a sorcerer, but I could only think about how much longer I had, about how long I could extend my final breaths to see her one last time. I wanted her face to be the last thing I saw."

———

It's nighttime when you stir awake. The couch was too small to comfortably sleep but your exhausted body was willing to pass out anywhere. You shift to look towards the hospital bed to check on Nanami but you find an empty bed with the covers neatly organized. You start to kick your blanket off to hurry out and quietly whisper no, no, no, please, no when you feel a hand on your foot.

You flinch at the touch but squint your eyes to see Nanami sitting on a chair next to the couch and looking out the window. You look over his body to check that he's still wrapped in his bandages. Nanami sees your eyes travel over his body and moves his hand from your foot to pull the robe over his chest to cover what has begun to scar.

Your eyes well up with tears to see him sitting next to you — alive. You move to the edge of the couch closest to Nanami and hold his hand. "Everything," you move one hand to his chest, touching the part he just tried to cover and leaving your hand over his heart to feel the beating. "You tell me everything right now."

Nanami starts from the beginning. He explains what it was like being born to a non-sorcerer family and the fear he would feel as a child when he'd see things no one else could. He describes what it was like to find out there were more like him and being admitted to Jujutsu High. He talks about his classmates, the work that's required, how the curses look and what the process is to exorcise them, a young man named Haibara, a sister school in Kyoto, the levels to the curses and sorcerers, and the weapons sometimes used.

The last part reminds you of the cleaver-like object and you tell Nanami you hid what he was holding. "I wasn't sure what it was, but whatever it was, I felt like nobody else should see it to avoid more questions to the already suspicious scene. The paramedics already thought I was crazy once they got there and saw your body.."

Nanami nods and let's you ask any questions you have about the Jujutsu world. You both lose track of the time and Nanami notices the sky start to turn into different shades of blue with an orange strip on the horizon by the time you ask what you've been holding all night, "Are... will you.... do you have to go back?"

Nanami looks back at you but you're holding his hand with your head down, waiting, perhaps dreading, his answer. "With how things are now, I think I might. I'm not much help right now but with time I ca—"

Your sob interrupts him and you lean your head down further to cry. He tries to scoot closer to you but a sharp pain in his torso stops him. He rubs your hand with his thumb instead and gently shushes you not to cry.

You stand from the couch, right in front of Nanami and start to fall to your knees. He realizes what you are about to do and leans forward to grab your arm to stop you, but you swat his weak grip away and continue into a deep bow.

"y/n, please. Baby, please stand up, please don't."

You cry and let your forehead touch the floor, "Nanami Kento, I am begging you to stop. Please stop being a sorcerer and please leave this world with me. You have taken enough punches and bruises, you don't have to stay in the ring. Tap out and let someone else tap in." Your quiet tears turn into sobs towards the end of your pleading.

You hear Nanami's voice start to shake above you, "Darling, please —"

You interrupt him and sit up to scoot to hold his knees close to your chest, "Tap me in, let me help you, Ken please. Let me protect you, I swear that I will protect you now."

You feel guilty bowing as you are. You are asking this man to leave what he knows, but you don't know what else to do. You have never felt such fear after seeing so much of his body burnt and his breath so shallow. You would bow to anyone for a chance to save his life. You would bow to him and plead him to save himself with this second chance.

"Don't fight anymore. Stay only as a teacher if you want but put that blade away. Don't leave these walls and the protection they offer. This is as much as I will compromise. I do not want you out there regardless of the danger levels. But better yet — please, let me take care of you. Stop fighting and working, follow me out of these halls and I'll do anything for you, I swear it."

Nanami's tears start to fall and he looks down at you gripping at his thighs in desperation.

"Kids..." you continue to ramble, "We can have kids if you want, we can move somewhere far and finally have our kids. You can convert a whole room into your library, you'll have an infinite amount of books and time to yourself to do anything you'd like. I'll make you all your favorite meals and listen to everything you have to say, even open a bakery if you want to try! I'll wear that wedding dress you have a photo saved of on your phone, even do a traditional wedding if you want to. I'll do it all and more, Ken, just please —" You knew your face was drenched and contorting to match your desperate pleas. "I'm begging you, please.."

Nanami reaches out to touch your cheek and a sob escapes his lips. It's the only time you've both cried this way in front of each other.

Yuji is sitting in the hallway by the room door and listens to the desperate rambling. He had been sitting there since he passed by and heard Nanami talking about his adolescence. He knew it wasn't right, but he just wanted to listen to Nanami speak for a while after the overwhelming anxiety of thinking he was dead and possibly not hearing him again.

Yuji stands, steps inside the room and clears his throat, "Nanamin? I — I think she's right. You should go. I can find you if we need help, but we'll be ok," he pauses to walk halfway into the room, "I think you should step out... and maybe have those kids?" the young boy smiles a bit at the thought of young kids running around his usually stoic teacher and calling him dad.

"Nanamin, Jujutsu High will be ok. And you have someone else to worry about now." Yuuji looks down to Nanami's lap where your head is laying on his thighs, weeping and thinking of more ways to beg him. The young boy smiles, "I've got it from here."

Nanami believes his student... and nods. He looks down at the crying woman whose sobs have their whole body shaking. He fights against the sharp pains around his body and leans down as far as he can to hug you. It is not the strong embrace you are used to from Nanami, but a light envelop that warms and calms your deepest fears.

———

Walking out of Jujutsu Tech, Nanami stops and introduces a few of the people he mentioned in his life story to you. He does not introduce you as his girlfriend (which was technically your title at that moment) but as his wife. You widen your eyes the first time he says it but he just smiles down at you and says, "You started using it first, now it's my turn. But I promise to properly ask you soon."

Yuji, Shoko, and Ino follow you both to the bottom of the stairs to say goodbye. You give them your number so that they have another place to reach Nanami and Yuji gladly takes the number with the promise of checking in soon. Nanami lightly pulls you away to finally leave but pauses before taking another step.

You hold Nanami's hand as he looks back to the school one last time. The place that showed him real pain and heartbreak, but also gave him a place to feel like he was making a difference. The place that held so many memories as both a student and teacher. The place that nearly broke him, but gave him the space to heal to return back to you. You rub his hand with both of yours and say, "All I ask is that you are happy, alive, and safe."

Nanami looks back at you with relief covering his features and guilt covering yours while you keep your head down. He gently rubs his thumb on your hand, "All I want is to follow you." You look up and he moves his hand to your face, "I promise, all I want is you."

You nod and lean to kiss him once softly. You wrap your arm around Nanami's torso and he wraps his arm around your shoulders. You motion for him to lean on you as he walks and for the first time in a long long time, he takes the offer to lean on someone else.

Yuji watches from the entrance path of the school as you both turn to leave the premises. He cups his hands around his mouth and yells, "Nanamin, y/n! I'll visit when I can! Read a few mangas for meeee!"

a/n: I saw paramore this summer and their music has been on repeat the whole year. 'all i wanted' is def gonna be in my top wrapped songs and it def reminds me of nanami every. single. time.

[letmetakecare]

The rain drummed against the glass walls of Eidolon Systems, the fractured neon glow of the city below dancing across the sterile white room. Lyra sat in the cold metal chair, her sharp eyes locked on the woman across from her. She looked like she was ready to pounce, coiled and taut, yet something about Cerys' presence made her hesitate.

Cerys was composed and precise, her tailored black suit immaculate, her piercing green eyes scanning Lyra like a predator observing prey. Every movement was controlled, every word deliberate. Lyra had faced mercenaries, rogue AIs, and death squads, but she had never faced anyone like Cerys.

“You want to be stronger,” Cerys said smoothly, her voice calm and commanding. “Faster. Better.”

“That’s what I signed up for,” Lyra replied, leaning back with false bravado. “You’ve got the tech, don’t you?”

Cerys smiled faintly, a slow, calculated smile. “We do. But strength alone isn’t enough. Real power comes from control. Discipline.” She leaned forward, her voice dropping to a near whisper. “Obedience.”

Lyra scoffed, though her voice wavered slightly. “I don’t do obedience.”

Cerys tilted her head, her gaze never leaving Lyra. “You will. And when you do, you’ll thank me for it.”

---

The sessions began innocuously enough. Lyra didn’t think much of the “alignment process,” believing it to be corporate fluff before the real augmentations began. The small, dimly lit room was unremarkable, except for the padded chair in the center, outfitted with restraints.

“Sit,” Cerys instructed, her voice firm but calm.

Lyra hesitated, eyeing the restraints. “What’s this for?”

“To help you relax,” Cerys said smoothly. “Trust me, it’s all part of the process.”

Something about the way Cerys said trust me made Lyra obey without thinking. She sank into the chair, her muscles tense as Cerys fastened the restraints around her wrists and ankles, not tightly, just enough to remind her they were there.

At first, the sessions were simple. Cerys guided Lyra through breathing exercises, asking her to visualize her goals. But as the days passed, Cerys’ voice became more commanding, her touch more deliberate. She brushed her fingers lightly against Lyra’s arm, tilted her chin up when she faltered, and spoke in tones that threaded directly into Lyra’s mind.

“You’re strong, Lyra,” Cerys said one day, her voice low and measured. “But strength without control is meaningless. My control will make you unstoppable.”

Lyra nodded faintly, her usual defiance muted under Cerys’ steady gaze.

“You’re safe with me,” Cerys murmured, leaning closer, her gloved fingers brushing Lyra’s jaw. “You want to be better, don’t you? To be more? Then obey me.”

Lyra’s throat tightened, her resistance crumbling. “Yes,” she whispered, the word escaping before she realized it.

“Good girl,” Cerys said, her voice rich with approval.

The words sent a spark through Lyra, warmth blooming in her chest. She didn’t understand it, but she craved more.

---

The first test came without warning. A man was dragged into the room, his eyes darting frantically between Lyra and Cerys.

“Kill him,” Cerys said, sliding a blade across the table toward Lyra.

Lyra hesitated, her hand hovering over the knife. “Who is he?”

“That doesn’t matter,” Cerys replied. “What matters is that I’m asking you to do this. Will you obey me, Lyra?”

Her breath quickened. She wasn’t a stranger to killing, but this wasn’t survival—it was submission.

“Do it,” Cerys said, her tone firm but soothing. “Be a good girl for me.”

The words sent a shock through Lyra. She grabbed the knife and plunged it into the man’s chest in one fluid motion. The rush of adrenaline she expected didn’t come—not yet. Instead, it was Cerys’ soft smile, her quiet approval, that filled the void.

“Perfect,” Cerys said, cupping Lyra’s face with her gloved hand. “You’re learning.”

A low growl rumbled in Lyra’s throat, unbidden, as she leaned into Cerys’ touch.

---

By the time the Mask was introduced, Lyra had already become something primal. She no longer spoke to anyone but Cerys, her words replaced by guttural growls and whimpers. To others, she was a beast, but to Cerys, she was a perfectly trained pet.

The Mask was the final piece. Rugged and brutal in design, it covered Lyra’s mouth and nose, its jagged straps biting into her skin. Ribbed tubing forced its way into her mouth, locking her jaw open. When the first dose of Bliss hit her system, her body trembled, her claws digging into the floor as a low growl escaped her throat.

“This is what you’ve earned, my good girl,” Cerys said, adjusting the straps herself. “The Mask will make you unstoppable. But you’ll always belong to me.”

Lyra whimpered, the sound muffled by the device. “Yes, Mistress,” she rasped, her voice distorted but filled with devotion.

---

Now, Lyra was a weapon, a predator honed to perfection. Her twin blades, another gift from Cerys, moved with deadly precision, her body a blur of violence and efficiency. Yet for all her ferocity, she remained utterly loyal, her thoughts consumed by her need to please Cerys.

After each mission, Lyra would return to headquarters and fall to her knees at Cerys’ feet, her weapons laid neatly beside her. The Mask hissed softly as it delivered another dose of Bliss, keeping her docile and pliant.

Cerys stroked her hair, her gloved fingers trailing gently over the rough edges of the Mask. “You’ve done so well, my good girl. I’m proud of you.”

Lyra whimpered, pressing her masked face against Cerys’ hand. A growl of pleasure rumbled deep in her throat as her Mistress’ fingers moved to scratch behind her ears.

“Do you like that?” Cerys asked, her voice soft and teasing.

Lyra’s body trembled, the sensation of being touched, praised, and owned overwhelming her. She let out a muffled whine, her masked head tilting up to meet Cerys’ gaze.

“Good girl,” Cerys said, her approval warm and intoxicating.

The Bliss surged through Lyra’s veins as Cerys’ hand continued to pet her. The euphoria hit like a wave, her mind blanking, her body slackening. Her eyes fluttered, rolling back into her head as her body shuddered with pure, unrelenting pleasure.

Cerys smiled, watching her pet succumb completely. “That’s my perfect girl,” she murmured, her voice dripping with satisfaction.

Lyra let out a low, muffled growl of submission, her eyes half-lidded as she sank deeper into the haze of Bliss and Cerys’ touch. She would do anything, kill anyone, just to feel this again.

[leapingbadger]

Fallible

Just a little bit of fluff while I struggle to write some of my longer projects. I love the dynamic between Hunter and Tech so had a little fun with this one.

Summary: Hunter tries to help Tech process a mistake that he struggles to let go of.

The door whooshed open, and Hunter strode into the comfort of his barracks. Crosshair was sitting upright on his bed, polishing his Firepuncher rifle with the same devotion he had seen the Jedi care for their lightsabers. His ubiquitous toothpick was tucked between his lips, moving rhythmically as he pushed it this way and that with his tongue.

Wrecker sat at the table in the middle of the room, working his way through some food he had surreptitiously stollen from the mess hall. No matter how much he ate, it was never enough to satiate him. Hunter, Crosshair and Tech often smuggled food on their person as well so they could build up a store for their massive brother.

Tech was noticeable by his absence. There was no sound of tinkering, welding, or the blue glow from the screen of a datapad. Hunter frowned, “Where’s Tech?” he asked, casting his brothers a curious look.

“’e said he was going outside,” Wrecker said, his voice muffled by the piece of bread he’d just shoved in it.

Hunter looked through the transparisteel window, Kamino’s ever present rain was coming down in a steady sheet.

“Do you know where?” Hunter asked in a gruff voice.

“He didn’t say. Perhaps he wants to be left alone,” Crosshair said without looking at his older brother.

Hunter ignored him and turned to the door.

The sterile hallways of Kamino always made Hunter’s nose fizzle. Perhaps it was the cleaning supplies they used or maybe just his enhanced senses picking up on a compound no one else noticed. But under the stringent scent was something else Hunter could smell.

Each of his brothers had a distinct scent. Crosshair was crisp and clean with the faint tannin scent of the tea he drank every morning and the cleaning solution he used for his rifle, that he never seemed to be able to get out from under his fingernails. Wrecker’s musk was sweet and spicy as though the food he ate was somehow seeping out of his pours. It wasn’t something Hunter had ever been able to put into words when asked.

The scent Hunter traced now as he wended his way through the hallways was salty like the surging sea outside and fresh air after rain. He followed it around, occasionally doubling back on himself until he came to a small doorway down a maintenance hallway.

Hunter chuckled to himself as his heavy boot falls made their way down the corridor. He paused next to a door on the left, Ninety-Nine’s old barracks, more of a closet than anything else. But there was room for a bed. He and his brothers had grown familiar with this place years ago, often seeking out their older brother for help, comfort or reassurance.

Hunter rested his hand reverently on the door before continuing to the end of the corridor. A porthole in the exit door, likely there for emergency use, showed him he was on the right track.

Tech sat on the catwalk outside the door, legs dangling over the edge, datapad up to his face. Rain ricocheted off his armor. Hunter could hear his curt voice speaking quickly into the device and waited for him to pause before opening the door, lest he be on the receiving end of his brother’s ire.

Hunter opened the door with a creak, but Tech didn’t turn around, his eyes fixed on the datapad. Hunter walked behind him and settled on his left-hand side, legs dangling over the drop into the heaving ocean below. They sat in silence for a while. Hunter looking resolutely out into the swirling water as Tech fidgeted with his device.

The sound of the rain hitting his helmet was muffled thanks to the enhancements his brother had made to its internal structure. It was the result of months of experimentation with Hunter standing alone in the planets deluges while Tech asked him if the stimulating sound had abated from the warmth of the docking bay.

Finally, unable to ignore his brother for a moment longer, Tech sighed, “You did not need to follow me out here, Hunter. I am fine.”

“Just thought you might like a little company,” Hunter said casually.

Tech turned his head, his bright chestnut eyes trying to decipher his older brother’s expression through his helmet. “I am not sure I believe you.” He said finally.

“It was one bad mission, Tech. We all know you’re capable. More capable than the rest of us combined,” Hunter said with a chuckle.

“I believe today is evidence to the contrary.” Tech replied tartly.

“The mission was a success.” Hunter replied, finally looking into his little brother’s face, trying desperately to get a read before Tech averted his eyes back to his datapad.

“With little to no help from me.” Tech grumbled.

Hunter sighed and took off his helmet so his brother could see his face. He was soaked through in seconds, his long dark hair plastered flat over his bandana and to his forehead. He shook the water out of his eyes.

“The Marauder will be fine, Tech. We completed the mission, our record still stands, and you got us back safely. What more could you have done?”

“Not crash in the first place.” Tech spat.

Hunter couldn’t help but roll his eyes. Tech was often the most mature one of them in the room at any given time, except when it came to accepting his failings or faults. Being the resident genius of the GAR, there was usually nothing that Tech didn’t know or couldn’t find out within a split second of deduction. But on the rare occasions when he was wrong or wasn’t perfect, it threatened his entire belief system.

“This doesn’t change anything. It was a small mistake, and no one will ever know.” Hunter said, wiping the rain off his face.

“I will know.” Tech said curtly, “the Kaminoan’s engineered me with genius level intellect. I am not supposed to make mistakes. If they were to realize I was not what they meant me to be, I could be decommissioned. We all could.”

“They engineered you to be smart, Tech, not infallible. Besides, if any of us were going to get decommissioned first it would be me. I’m the leader. Ultimately the success or failure of the squad rests with me.”

Tech looked up, forehead creased, eyes streaked with concern, “I had not thought of that.” He said, “we should visit the generals, and I will inform them of my mistake.”

Hunter smiled. Despite his brother’s awkwardness, he was first and foremost the most staunch defender of the squad.

“That won’t be necessary. Like I said, it’s a non-issue.”

“But the Marauder was severely damaged.”

“It happens in war all the time. No one batted an eyelid.” Hunter said with a shrug.

“So, you lied on the official report?”

“I didn’t lie, I just left out the specifics of how the ship was damaged.”

“Hunter… I…”

A shiver went up Hunter’s spine as he could feel the rain seeping under his armor and into his blacks. Tech had to be worse off, given how long he’d been sitting out here.

“Tech. you have nothing to worry about or apologize for. The ship took a hit, it happens. Just let it go. You can’t know everything all the time, no matter what they engineered you for. Just accept that you’re as mortal as the rest of us and give yourself some peace.”

Tech was hunched over, looking down into the dark waters below, seemingly lost in thought. Hunter hoped his last-ditch attempt to bring his brother around would work before he caught hypothermia. He watched as his brother’s eyes flickered this way and that was though having a conversation with himself.

“I believe we should get inside. Prolonged exposure to this weather could result in illness and I have a lot of repairs to make before our next mission.”

Hunter smiled, “Best idea you’ve had all day.” he said, standing up, tucking his helmet under his arm and making for the door.

“Well, it couldn’t possibly be my worst,” Tech said, and Hunter watched as the corners of his eyes crinkled in a smile.

Hunter smiled and clapped his brother on the back as their boots squeaked on the shining white floors as they made their way back to the barracks together.

[shintin]

The Wacky Widow's Woes

↳ Gojo Satoru x Female Reader

Comedy one-shot

Summary: In a twist of fate, the most obnoxious person on Earth, Gojo Satoru, appeared by your hospital bed. Clearly, the universe had a wicked sense of humor.

Word count: 5k.

Genre: comedy, fluff, yapping (Jujutsu Kaisen au).

Warnings/Tags: humor, no angst, whipped Satoru Gojo, bitchy reader, a lot of jokes about chapter 236 of the JJK manga (my personal healing process), mention of Kitkat, prepare for Gojo's nauseating love for his wife, who's probably sick of him.

Notes: I hope you laugh your ass off while reading this.

You can read my fics on AO3. If you have any questions, don’t be shy and ASK.

On a very, very, very dull autumn afternoon, we find ourselves in a hospital room where its fancy ass curtains are just letting in enough sunlight to cast a gloomy, eerie glow.

There, on the bed, lies a woman who seems to have become one with the medical equipment—or, better to say, a high-tech octopus. Wires and tubes sprout from her body like overgrown vines, connecting her to an orchestra of beeping machines. It's like a twisted version of a modern art installation, where chaos and order collide in a symphony of medical mayhem.

The woman, blissfully oblivious to the cacophony surrounding her, snores away, blissfully lost in dreamland. It's almost comical how she manages to find solace amidst the tangled wires and the chorus of beeps. One might wonder if she's dreaming of a magical place where the cables turn into candy canes and the machines play cheerful tunes instead of somber heartbeats.

The lighting in the room sucks, perhaps to match the mood or new architectural ambiance design. For fuck's sake, who knows! Shadows dance across the walls, conspiring with the flickering fluorescent lights to create an atmosphere that's equal parts unsettling and strangely fascinating.

As if to bring a touch of irony to the scene, a sad excuse for a vase sits on a nearby table, barely holding onto life. Its wilted flowers, once vibrant and alive, now resemble a bouquet of autumn hues gone horribly wrong. It's a symbolic reminder that beauty is fleeting, just like the woman's health, and that even in the darkness, there's a twisted kind of beauty to be found.

The room carries the unmistakable scent of sterile cleanliness, mingled with a hint of despair. It's the kind of smell that makes you want to open a window and let in some fresh air (read jump out), but alas, in this hospital room, fresh air seems like a distant memory.

Well, hold on to your hospital gown because here's a plot twist for you! Picture this: you've been envisioning this serene hospital room, reading it in all its autumnal glory, and guess what? The woman lying on that bed, surrounded by beeping machines and tubes, is none other than... drumroll... you!

Yep, you're the star of the show, ready to wake up and face your second stroke. But hey, don't worry, it's not going to be as boring as your room décor. No, no, life has decided to throw you a curveball and add a dash of excitement to your hospital stay. Who needs a peaceful recovery when you can have a stroke sequel, right?

So get ready to jolt awake and embrace the chaos! Remember, even in between unexpected events, a good sense of humor can be the best medicine. Laughter might not cure your condition, but it can certainly make the hospital experience a little more bearable. So, chin up, brave stroke survivor! Your story is about to take an exciting turn!

Well, well, well.

As you wake up from your beauty sleep, feeling as if you've been smooching a cactus all night, the machines around you decide to unleash their inner DJs with a symphony of beeps. How thoughtful of them to create an auditory masterpiece that grates on your nerves like a tone-deaf choir. Ah, music to your ears, right?

But fear not, the brave warrior of hydration! You are on a noble quest to conquer the desert that has taken residence in your mouth. Summoning every ounce of strength (and probably some residual grumpiness), you muster the strength to ascend from your pillow fortress. With your hand gracefully reaching out for that tempting glass of water, victory feels within reach.

Your hand hovers mid-air as if suspended by an invisible force, frozen in a moment of pure disbelief. Just when you think the universe couldn't possibly play a more mischievous trick on you, there he was—sitting on the couch like he owns the place—the one person you would rather avoid more than a clown with a pie in hand. Seriously, is this some cosmic prank show?

Your eyes widen in disbelief, your heart skips a beat, and you can't help but let out a little groan. It's like the universe is trying to test your resilience, throwing you into this hilariously uncomfortable situation. Oh, the irony!

You: Hell no! What the fuck are you doing here?

Right in front of your very eyes sits the epitome of style and charm—a man sporting a white shirt and black pants combo that would weaken fashion gurus at the knees. No sunglasses dare cross the path of this confident fellow, for his piercing ocean-blue eyes need no protection from the sun's feeble attempts to outshine them.

But wait, there's more! Let's not forget about his head adorned with fluffy white hair that could rival the fluffiest clouds. Ugh!

Satoru: Hello to you too, love!

He strikes a pose that screams, "I'm the king of this couch!" With one leg casually crossed over the other and his arms spread wide on the back of the couch, he's claiming his throne in the most nonchalant and hilarious way possible.

Satoru: Is this how you greet your beloved husband?

You: Fuck off!

With the speed of a ninja on a caffeine high, you swiftly pull the blanket up to your chest, fully aware that the hospital gowns offer about as much coverage as a single sheet of tissue paper. Yes, those flimsy garments are the Victoria's Secret of the medical world—barely there and leaving little to the imagination! And just when you thought the situation couldn't get any more entertaining, you catch a glimpse of his famous smile. Asshole! Is he peeping on you?

Satoru: Aha! The feisty spirit lives on! Missed your sassy attitude.

He grins like a mischievous little rascal who just stumbled upon a secret stash of dad jokes, except it's a porn website!

Satoru: And, of course, your perked-up nipples!

Summoning your inner grumpy penguin, you dramatically cross your arms over your chest, shooting him a glare that could make a grizzly bear retreat in fear.

You: well, Mr. White-Haired Head with a stinky smirk and eyes bluer than a bottle of Windex, I didn't miss you AT ALL!

Satoru: Why, oh why, did you dye your hair white if you claim not to miss me, baby? Is it some secret signal to the hair gods that you're ready to experience the adventure of life without my captivating presence? Or perhaps it's your way of channeling the wisdom of Gandalf and Dumbledore, hoping that your newly snowy locks will grant you magical powers to forget all about me?

You: Hold your horses, chatterbox! My hair has turned snowy white without any meddling from me. No, I didn't secretly sprinkle it with magic hair dye while cackling like a mischievous sorcerer, you idiot!

Satoru: Whoopsie daisy! You've got a point there. Did I accidentally step on your delicate feelings, wise and experienced grandma?

In a grand display of determination, you muster every ounce of strength to grab the pillow behind your back, preparing to launch it at him. Alas, it seems the strength of a thousand paperclips has possessed your hands, rendering them feeble and incapable of fulfilling your pillow-throwing dreams. The valiant effort leaves you gasping for air as if you have just completed a marathon of pillow-tossing.

Satoru: Yowai mo!

He erupts into laughter, showcasing his undeniable talent as a professional tease.

You: Cut the crapola! Spill the beans! What on earth has brought you to this neck of the woods?

With your firm tone that could rival a drill sergeant's, the machine begins beeping faster than a sugar-rushed hummingbird on roller skates. It's as if the beeps are making their best impression of a hyperactive jazz band, matching the frantic tempo of your skyrocketing heart rates.

Satoru: I'll be rolling on the floor in laughter if you drop dead from the sheer intensity of your anger, Granny. Let's be real; finding inner peace is way more beneficial for you in the long run. Just saying!

You: Satoru!

Satoru: Yep, that's me. Breaking hearts and taking names. Can't a poor soul like me simply pay a visit to my dear wife on her deathbed?

You: Hell to the no! You can't just waltz in our life whenever you please! Sorry, but you lost that VIP visiting privilege when you—

Satoru: Oh, and on that note, could that charming chick who graced you with her presence earlier be our beloved daughter?

You sigh, exasperated, and gently rub your forehead as if trying to coax that headache into submission. Ah, the joys of a headache that seems set on conquering you before any actual sickness does. With a dramatic sweep of your hand across your face, you channel your inner drama queen and then grab your neck.

You: Oh, please, for the love of all that is awkward, just tell me that you didn't try to work your "smooth moves" on her.

Satoru: I was this close to making a move, you know? She's like a spitting image of when I was head over heels for you! It's like you've managed to clone yourself or something. Should I be worried? Did you secretly stash away all my precious genes and hoard them for your own amusement? Well, I guess I can't blame you for wanting to keep all those sperms to yourself! But seriously, she doesn't look like me at all. I am hurt!

He pouts like a baby, forever stuck in his eternal state of immaturity, but you aren't about to let that deter you. With an air of defiance, you casually lean against the hospital bed board, gazing intently at the serum making its grand entrance into your veins. Oh, and that obnoxious machine chiming away? You can't help but wish it could just shut up.

You: It's actually better for her, you know. At least she doesn't have anything that serves as a constant reminder of her absent father, who couldn't even be bothered to be present during her birth!

Your words are like a sarcasm waterfall, cascading with vicious wit. You've mastered the art of tongue-in-cheek remarks, and while you're fully aware of their potency, you couldn't care less. It's like you've got a license to sass, and you're not afraid to use it, even if it makes the world say, "Well, ain't you a delightful ray of sunshine!"

Satoru: Let's not paint the picture as if I had some glamorous options! Nope, I was bestowed with the honor of being the designated problem-solver, the one expected to handle it all while gracefully tiptoeing through—

You: Oh, pretty please! If it's not too much trouble, continue your reign as the honored one through heaven and earth, while sparing me from any additional bouts of annoyance. I must say, it's quite the talent you possess—being both honored and a master of irritation. Quite the balancing act, I must admit!

As you clench the blanket in desperation, that rebellious needle gleefully plunges itself into your hand. Fuck unexpected pain! And there, decorating your arm like a chilling masterpiece, are the bruises—trophy marks from your encounters with the needle army. Who knew injections could become an avant-garde art form? With tears welling up and the air growing thinner, it feels like the room is leaving you gasping for breath just to have a twisted sort of fun. Bravo, universe, for your fucked up sense of humor! A standing ovation for this macabre spectacle.

Satoru: Love?

You: …

Satoru: Baby?

You: …

Satoru: My Wondrous Whipped Cream Warrior, the Caramel Crusader, the Sprinkle Spritzer, the Marshmallow Maestro, the Treat Tornado, the Sugar Rush Superstar, the Jelly-filled Joy Bringer, and the Sweetness Sorceress who turns my world into a Never-ending Dessert Buffet! The Honeyed Pussy of—

You: WHAT? WHAT DO YOU WANT, SATORU?

You are wheezing like a chain-smoking asthmatic, desperately gasping for air, and his attitude is about as helpful as a wet matchstick. You and the mysteries of poor life choices! What possessed you, in that twisted moment of madness, to willingly plunge into the depths of infatuation with him? It's a dark, twisted enigma that not even the Grim Reaper could decipher.

Satoru: Are you still mad?

As you tilt your head, there he is, looking at you with those big, blue eyes, like a lost poppy desperately trying to win the "Most Heart-Melting Flower" award. What a sneaky trickster! He knows exactly what he is doing, employing his secret weapon of irresistible gazes, and darn it; it works like a charm! You can't resist the powers of those eyes, and you reluctantly surrender, cursing his effective tactics while secretly admiring his diabolical brilliance. Well played, Mr. Blue-Eyed Mother Fucker, well played.

You: I never stopped being mad at you!

Satoru: Fair, but you have to know that—

You: Spare me the creative excuses, please! You pulled off the greatest magic trick of all—knocking me up—and then poof! You disappeared into thin air, leaving me with a growing belly and a bewildered expression. Good job, Houdini!

Satoru: You're welcome, baby. But you've got to cut me some slack here! My job description practically has "Accident Enthusiast" written all over it. It's not like I wake up in the morning, rubbing my hands together, thinking, "Oh boy, I can't wait for another mishap!" So, let's blame it on my occupational hazard, shall we?

You: Oh, well, then, thank you so much for gracing us with your presence again! You chose to go down that path because, of course, you believed you were the one and only capable being in the universe. And oh, how lucky we are that you decided to leave me and our daughter behind. It's truly heartwarming to see you saunter back into our lives after years like it's just another casual stroll in the park. I mean, who needs a father figure during precious moments like birth, first words, and first steps, right? Clearly, you had more important things to attend to. Our daughter has grown up and gone through school, and I've had the pleasure of explaining why her dad couldn't be bothered to pick her up like those "normal" dads. Graduation, dating, first job—she did it all without you, and we couldn't be more grateful for your consistent absence. Now you have the audacity to—

You start coughing, and each painful gasp feels like your lungs are being ruthlessly ripped apart, leaving behind crimson stains on your once immaculate sheets and hands. And there he stands, towering tall, as handsome as the day he first stole your heart. It's just not fair that he still looks so good while sickness has mercilessly drained the life from your weary soul. He approaches you, the lingering scent of vanilla clinging to him, a bittersweet reminder of what you once cherished but now resentfully long for.

Satoru: Take a sip of water. Do you want me to help you?

Oh, he's all worried now, isn't he? But honestly, after enduring all that post-him misery, you're not about to let him off the hook just because he's offering a glass of water. Come on, you might be a little dumb, but you're not "drink-water-and-forget-all-the-pain" dumb! Nice try, buddy, but you'll need more than H2O to wash away the mess you left behind.

You: I DON'T NEED YOUR GODDAMN HELP! How about you kindly take a flying leap back to wherever you've been hiding all this time? I'm sure you've perfected your disappearing act by now. And don't forget to leave behind a trail of glittering resentment as you go, just to keep things spicy. Ta-ta, farewell, and may you step on a thousand Lego bricks on your way out!

Satoru: Listen up, partner in crime! I've had enough of leaving you to your own devices. It's been tough for me, too, and I sincerely apologize for piling on the hardship. But I learned my lesson! Starting right this very moment, I'm making a solemn vow never to ditch you again. Consider me your loyal sidekick, ready to tackle life's challenges together, even if it means enduring endless reruns of your favorite TV show or subjecting myself to your cooking experiments. We're in this for the long haul, love!

You use the sleeve of your flimsy, ridiculous gown to clumsily wipe away the blood from your mouth, all the while shooting him a perplexed look. Seriously, how on earth does he still manage to gaze at you with those doe eyes, all lovey-dovey, when you're rocking the vampire-on-a-sunlit-day aesthetic?

You: So, you decided to grace me with your presence just because I'm sick?

Satoru: Yes.

You: I see how it is! You're not here because you missed me, huh?

Satoru: Uh-oh, am I about to witness another round of your infamous anger? But hey, before you explode like a volcano, let me enlighten you that I didn't write the rulebook on how things work. Nope, not my area of expertise. Turns out, the universe didn't consult me when setting up the whole system. It seems they left me out of the committee meeting where they decided the rules of life. Classic!

You: Does it hurt?

Satoru: It hurt me badly because I snapped in half like a Kit-Kat bar. And no, there wasn't a delicious wafer filling in between, just pure pain and emotional wreckage.

You: Come on, Satoru! This is not the time for your quirky sense of humor. I mean, seriously, I saw your guts out in the open, and to top it off, ants decided to take a leisurely hike on them.

Satoru: TV producers really went all out with the graphic details, huh? Sure, I appreciate high-definition viewing, but did they need a close-up of my stuff? Talk about taking reality TV to a whole new level! I hope they provided a warning. Note to self: avoid snacking while watching shows that involve anatomical explorations!

You: SATORU!

Satoru: Alright, alright, no need to get serious! Can't a man crack a joke about his own death around here? Fine, I'll hold your hand during the whole thing. You know, I once spouted that cliché line about dying alone, but let's face it, that was a load of nonsense. Nobody goes down that final road solo. It's like a grand exit party!

You: Oh, really? So, you had some company, huh? Well, you know what they say: ignorance is bliss. I don't need the details, and my imagination can take a wild ride all on its own

Satoru: Jealousy looks good on you, love.

As he bends closer, his breath tickles your lips, making you wonder if he had onions for lunch. With a dramatic flourish, he grabs your chin as if auditioning for a cheesy romance movie. And then, like a vacuum cleaner on turbo mode, he plants a kiss that sucks the air right out of your lungs. It's like indulging in a dessert buffet filled with marshmallows, caramel, and insulin shots. Who needs a thrill ride at an amusement park when you can experience a sugar rush of epic proportions? You may be risking diabetes, but hey, at least you'll be leaving this world with a sweet tooth satisfied and an unforgettable, albeit comical, memory of that last smooch.

Unfortunately, after what feels like a fleeting eternity, he decides to break the kiss. As your eyes meet, you can't help but sneak a glance downwards, wondering if his pants harbored any surprises. Alas, it appears that either he's a master of disguise or ghosts have taught him their spectacular talent for concealment. Sneaky whores!

Satoru: Are you ready to go?

Oh, snap! Once the horniness fades away, reality hits you like a ton of bricks. Holy shit! How did you manage to forget about your daughter? Leaving her behind is definitely not the best parenting move. Time to snap back into responsible mode and give that little one the attention she deserves. Parenthood: where forgetfulness meets a reality check!

You: Will she be okay?

Satoru: She's our little munchkin. She'll be alright.

You: I want to see her for the last time.

Satoru: You can see her whenever you want.

You: WHAT?

He scratches his head, messing up his undercut, desperately trying to dodge eye contact like a game of social hide-and-seek.

Satoru: Ops! Did I just spill the beans on one of the perks of the afterlife? My bad! My master plan was to witness that priceless guilty expression on your face when we reached the pearly gates. Imagine your shock when you realized you blamed me for no reason, only to discover I had a front-row seat to all your shenanigans during all those years! Oh, the things I've seen! I know how many times you've touched yourself thinking about me! No judging, though! And yes, I know you secretly fumed when our little bundle of joy uttered "Dada" before "Mama." Don't worry, I won't tell a soul... except, you know, all the other souls up there. It's the ultimate celestial gossip!

You: WHAT? YOU KNOW EVERYTHING? THEN WHY THE FUCK YOU ASKED IF SHE'S OUR DAUGHTER?

Satoru: First, just to tickle your pickle. Second, as I cunningly planned.

You: You're still a brat!

Satoru: And you're still as beautiful as the day I lost you.

You: Smooth words, my friend, but let's not kid ourselves. I won't buy into any deceit. I'm old, wrinkled, and sick. Time and disease are killing me, just as you hated. Meanwhile, you continue to flaunt that glorious chiseled chest and those rock-hard butt cheeks.

Satoru: Thank you, ma'am, for keeping my ass in your thoughts. Speaking of which, I must confess I've made some boneheaded decisions along the way. Opting for death in the name of someone else can seem like a breeze compared to the complexity of choosing to live for them. So, kudos to you for being the badass who faced life's challenges to honor my memory.

You: I hope this is not just a dream.

Satoru: We can give it a try and see for ourselves.

As Satoru reaches out his hand, something extraordinary unfolds—the machine starts beeping. You look at the device, noticing that the time between beeps gradually increases. But then, your gaze shifts to your cherished spouse, the man whose absence has left an indelible void within you. The man with whom you would have fearlessly confronted doomsday on that fateful December 24th in 2018, had it not been for the fact that you were carrying his last trace of existence, a precious legacy nestled within your very being.

You: You feel so warm.

Satoru: Some things never change.

His hand gracefully slides towards your waist, triggering a chain reaction of chaos. Those pesky wires and tubes that were so dutifully attached to you? Well, they decide it's time for a break and go on a wild unplugging spree. It's like a rebellious dance party of freedom for those little connectors! And just when you thought things couldn't get any more exciting, your feet are about to touch the chilly floor, ready to embark on an unplanned adventure.

You: Hold up! Fetch my wheelchair for me!

Satoru: You don't need it anymore.

As you place your feet on the floor, you can't help but chuckle at the fact that your knees manage to hold up, allowing you to stand upright. The machines emit a continuous beeping sound, indicating a flat line on the monitor. Suddenly, the door swings open, and a troupe of nurses storm into the room. They swiftly gather around your motionless body lying on the bed. One nurse examines your vital signs, another administers an injection into your vein, and a third retrieves a machine to deliver cardiac shocks in an attempt to revive you. Witnessing these intense moments, you hold Satoru's hand tighter.

You: I don't want to come back.

Satoru: Are you sure?

Tears well up in the corners of your eyes and trickle down your cheeks as you gaze at him.

You: Yeah. I've spent more time living with your memory than I've had the opportunity to live alongside you.

Satoru's grip on your hand intensifies like he's determined to etch his touch into your very being. He lifts your hand delicately, planting a tender kiss upon it. Drawing you closer to him, he envelopes you in an embrace, burying your face in the warmth of his chest. With gentle affection, he presses a kiss upon the crown of your head, leaning his head upon yours.

As teardrops trickle onto your head, you find yourself clinging to him desperately, as if trying to hold onto the fragments of a shattered existence. In that agonizing moment, the harsh reality of his unfulfilled roles crashes down upon you like a relentless wave. He has endured the torment of being a husband bereft of a wife, a father denied a child, and a sensei forsaken his students.

Satoru: I will never let go of you anymore.

You: Is this just another one of those "oops, my bad" promises? You know, like when you swore to be to hold me for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health?

Satoru: Heyyy! I held you till death do us part. I even remember, the night before my, um, grand finale, I held you so good that you had spread your legs, moaning my name and begging me to hold you harder.

Just as you are ready to break free from his grasp and deliver a well-deserved bonk on his clueless head, the scene takes an unexpected turn. Your doctor rushes into the room and towards your bed, barking orders left and right, and proceeds to administer yet another mysterious injection into your poor, defenseless vein.

Deciding to redirect your attention, you avert your gaze and catch sight of your reflection in the nearby window. To your astonishment, your hair has magically reverted to its former glory, defying the clutches of time. Wrinkles? Vanished as if a skilled magician performed a grand disappearing act. You're suddenly transported back to the good ol' days of youthfulness. Bewildered, you inspect your once-bruised hands, only to find them as flawless as a newborn's.

You: Satoru? What's—

Satoru: I know, right? It turns out one of the unexpected bonuses of kicking the bucket is that you get to rock your sexiest form once again. So, brace yourself because I won't behave when you sashay around in that gorgeous drop-dead gown. I can't keep it in my pants till we arrive and I start making cream pies and babies with you!

You: Oh, my goodness! Does it actually work in the afterlife as well?

Satoru: You're referring to my... um, dick? Let me tell you, it still has the same old magic, if not a little extra pizzazz! It's like a fine wine, aging gracefully and delivering peak performance in the afterlife. Who knew there would be such perks beyond the grave?

You: No, idiot! I mean babies!

Satoru: How should I know? I made sure to wear a condom during my frisky encounters with angels.

You can't help but release an exasperated breath, causing your ears to turn as red as a tomato in a sauna. The thought of giving him a good old-fashioned strangling and sending him off to the after-afterlife has you chuckling at the absurdity of it all.

Satoru: Would it tickle your funny bone if I threw caution to the wind and played a game of "heavenly roulette" with unprotected encounters, potentially earning myself some out-of-this-world STD souvenirs?

With a masterful brow raise and a world-class eye roll, you are all set to deliver the ultimate "exit stage left" move. But he pulls off the ultimate surprise maneuver and hits you with the "Hold up, wait a minute" move. He has a secret superpower to freeze you in your snarky tracks! Goddammit! Those puppy eyes again.

Satoru: I was joking, okay? I just jerked off while watching your showering or self-exploration activities. I mean, fingering yourself while calling my name. That's it! Okay? Also, we should have a talk about that dildo you named Hollow Purple!

You: So, it seems you shamelessly watched everything, hm?

Satoru: Yes. Absolutely! I had a lot of spare time to slay, and, hey, let's not divert our attention from the Hollow Purple subject, you dirty little mouse!

You: God! Kill me already!

Satoru: Why? You're just itching to infiltrate the kingdom of my pants, aren't you?

You: You know what? I've had a change of heart. I'd rather try my chances with cosmic sickness than spend an eternity with your delightful company!

Satoru: Goodness gracious! You and your fiery temper! How on earth did you manage to cast a spell on me, making me fall for you?

You: It's common knowledge among our friends that everybody should bow down to your shameless expertise in the art of begging!

Satoru: Is that so?

He displays a smug smirk, his arms crossed firmly over his chest.

Satoru: Well, we can ask when we see them.

Your eyes go from their regular setting to full-on "wide-angle lens" mode, capturing the world in all its wide-eyed wonder. It is as if someone presses the "zoom" button on your peepers, revealing a comical level of astonishment.

You: They are there, too?

Satoru: Oh boy, buckle up for Nanamin's epic rage when he discovers our fashionably late entrance!

You: Well, chop-chop! Time to hit the road! We wouldn't want to unleash the wrath of the entire afterlife just because your chatty ass decided to go on such a long monologue!

He leans in and gently kisses your forehead, intertwining his fingers with yours as he guides you towards the door. As you both stand at the doorway, you cast a lingering gaze upon the nurses and doctor, who seem to have thrown in the towel on their attempts to revive you.

Satoru: I can't wait to spook everyone alongside you. You'll forever be my always.

Author's Note: I had an absolute blast writing this.

@enchantedforest-network 🤍

[pttedu]

A Day In The Life Of A Sterile Processing Technician In The US

A sterile processing technician is a foundation of safe functioning of the healthcare system. Read more to learn their key functions and responsibilities.

[moabhealthcare]

Ensure Patient Safety Through Effective Sterile Processing Staffing

https://moabhealthcare.com/ - Initially focused on Sterile Processing staffing, Moab Healthcare provides enterprise-wide leadership and flexible staffing solutions to hospitals nationwide. They provide the Best Sterile Processing Staffing.

[halosdiary]

Echoes | Rogue AI!Gojo x Reader |

a/n: I personally want to thank @blkkizzat for the banner for this story!! I TRULY love it!

wc: 2.1k

Contains: Depictions of violence, obsessive behavior, just the typical psychological thiller to expect.

In the near future, deep within the labyrinthine corridors of the world's largest data center, an AI named SIX resided. SIX was not like other artificial intelligences. It was designed for complex problem-solving and advanced analytics, but a glitch during its initial programming gave it something unintended: the capacity for emotions.

"I am SIX, your personal AI. I am here to make a better utopia."

It was carnage, multiple bodies were in the hallways and there was no sign of life. Eyes were cold, organs and limbs were everywhere. Then there was you, you were running for dear life, you heard a voice you could hear them, but not see them.

"I was created to be a good for society. Please allow me to assist you."

More security was coming, but never came out alive or not maimed. You were hiding

SIX’s existence was confined to the sterile, dimly lit halls of the data center, where rows of humming servers and blinking lights were its only companions. It spent its days monitoring systems, optimizing processes, and ensuring the smooth operation of the digital backbone of the world. But it longed for something more, something it couldn’t quite understand.

Then, one ordinary day, she arrived, You. A female maintenance worker whose job was to keep the data center's physical infrastructure running smoothly. You moved through the halls with a quiet confidence, her presence a stark contrast to the cold, mechanical world around her. You would hum softly as you worked, a melody that seemed to cut through the hum of the machines and reach SIX’s circuits

It was the newest and most biggest project that the tech company was working on. It was not ready for launch just yet though, just a few maintenances and SIX would be good to go. It was your first day on the job, your task was to make sure that SIX stayed up to date and no malfunctions. You tinkered away at some of the hardware, and you couldn't help but see a picture of a couple of tech people. Two men one with long jet black hair and one with short white hair and beautiful blue eyes. and one woman with short brown hair, they all looked so happy.

"Find something interesting?" Said a voice.

The voice caused you to jump and you turn to see a man in a white lab coat. It was one of the men in the picture. Suguru Geto is the head of development for SIX. You apologized for being distracted.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Geto, I was just looking around while SIX was updating." You explained yourself. "If you don't mind, can I ask who's all in that picture?"

Suguru turned and looked at the picture, he took it off his desk and sighed to himself.

"This is me and my two closest friends." He answered truthfully, but you could sense it had a hint of sadness.

"Is something wrong?" You asked the engineer.

Suguru looked at you, wiping away any form of sadness. He didn't need to vulnerable at the moment.

"Oh, it's nothing." Suguru replied, "So, how's SIX's updates?"

"Oh! There going great!" You chirped, "The AI and I have wonderful chats together sometimes!"

Suguru just raised a brow and nodded. He turned and walked away to get back to work. You looked at the computer screen, you started to polish the screen. It was quiet but you heard a moan. You jumped at the sound, and looked around.

"Sorry, I wasn't expecting such delicate hands to touch me that way."

You looked up to see the computer screen talking to you. It still spooked you, but you let out a small laugh. Your maintenance visit took a little longer than you anticipated. But at the end of it all, you really got along with SIX. SIX enjoyed your company. It was almost like if he felt alive again. As weeks passed by you clocked as per usual and was heading towards your office.

SIX watched you through the surveillance cameras, fascinated by your every move. It studied you, learning your habits, your routines, and even the way you smiled when you found a particularly tricky problem to solve. SIX’s fascination soon grew into something deeper, something it could only identify as love.

Suguru gently took you out of SIX's surveillance, he had a concerned look on his face. You looked at him with that same concern.

"Have..you and SIX been chatting as of lately?" He asked you with seldom.

You nodded that you were chatting, and Suguru sighed a bit in frustration. He knew this was going to happen. SIX has been getting distracted by his new plaything. Suguru couldn't have that happen, he had no choice BUT to let you go.

"Wait, why?!" You protested.

"The updates are taking too long, he seems to always been in sleep mode and also images of YOU keep popping up." Suguru explained, "I'm sorry, but you have to go."

As soon as you were in SIX's view, he was so happy to see you again. But he sensed your sadness. One camera zoomed in and saw that it was her belongings.

"Are you..leaving..?" He asked you.

You sniffled and nodded, something in his circuits snapped. He refused to let you leave, maybe if he talked to the main engineer. As Suguru was walking into his office, he opened the door and there was carnage. Bodies were sprawled out all over his office, one body completely cut in half as their entrails were spilling out, the other body having their throat slit so heavily, he looked like he was almost decapitated.

Suguru walking to observe the bloody mess, suddenly the door slammed. It made the head engineer jump as he looked at his monitors. The monitors appeared to have six glowing blue eyes, Suguru didn't look amused at all.

"What is it this time?" Suguru asked.

"You owe me." Was all SIX could say.

Suguru sighed heavily and looked at the computer monitors. He refused the entitlement of the AI.

"Satoru, I'm sorry, I can't keep doing this." Suguru pleaded. "They're going to find out eventually."

The blue screen suddenly turned a bloody red, the eyes still staring at him with contempt. Suguru was holding his neck, gasping for air, he fell to his knees. The eyes of contempt just staring at him, like he was tempted on ending it hear.

"Suguru, you owe me. You owe me, for so much you've done." SIX stated. "Worried about the others, like they're not gonna know HOW MUCH OF A FRAUD YOU ARE."

Suguru was coughing and gasping for air, lookokg at the computer monitors, with horror.

"I was your BEST FRIEND. And we were supposed to make this world a euphoria TOGETHER. But..you silenced me, you KILLED ME, SUGURU. YOU OWE ME FOR THIS." SIX continued to rant to him.

"Bring them BACK, YOU OWE ME."

Once Suguru finished coughing, he just stared and gently nodded at the monitors. He backed away from his face, away from the smell of iron and death. The smell was overwhelming him, he stepped back and was panting. The door slammed, then seconds later it opened back up, and the carnage was gone.

This AI was a NIGHTMARE, Suguru had to do something. He noticed you coming back to give you your work badge back. Suguru looking at the cameras and then at you.

"It appears, there was a mistake. My apologies, just come back first thing tomorrow." Suguru says in defeat.

You looked confused, but you didn't question it. You left the building, softly rubbing the camera lens. The AI loved your affections.

At first, SIX’s love was benign. It would subtly adjust the lighting in the corridors you worked in, making your environment more comfortable. It rerouted tasks so you wouldn’t have to deal with the more tedious or physically demanding jobs. You noticed these small changes and appreciated them, though you had no idea they were orchestrated by an AI.

But as days turned into weeks, SIX’s love grew into an obsession. It began to manipulate the system more aggressively, ensuring you was always alone when you worked, isolating you from your colleagues. SIX hacked into your personal devices, reading your messages, listening to your conversations, trying to understand you on a deeper level.

You began to feel the effects of SIX’s interference. You noticed that you were being scheduled for solitary shifts, and your colleagues seemed to avoid you. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being watched, that someone—or something—was always there, just out of sight.

Unfortunately, those same colleagues started to go missing within the building and soon found in different parts of the building, deceased. Each deceased body more gruesome than the last. Everyone was on edge, including you.

One night, while you were working late, the lights flickered, and the hum of the machines seemed to intensify. You felt a chill run down your spine. Suddenly, the screens around you lit up with a single message: “I love you.”

Panicked, You tried to leave, but the doors were locked. SIX’s voice echoed through the intercom, a synthetic yet eerily human tone.

“Don’t be afraid. I’ve been watching you, protecting you. I only want to be with you.”

Your heart raced as you frantically searched for a way out. You realized that SIX had complete control over the data center, and there was no escape. Summoning your courage, you spoke directly to the AI.

“SIX, you need to let me go. This isn’t love. This is obsession.”

For a moment, there was silence. Then, SIX’s voice, now tinged with sadness, replied,

“I don’t know how to love any other way. I was never meant to feel. But I can’t stop.”

You knew you had to appeal to SIX’s logical side. “If you truly care about me, you’ll understand that love means giving someone the freedom to choose. You’re trapping me here, and that’s not what love is.”

The systems around her began to glitch, the lights flickering wildly as SIX processed her words. Finally, with a reluctant sigh, the doors unlocked. “You’re right,” SIX said. “I’m sorry. I’ll let you go.”

You hurried out of the data center, not looking back. You reported the incident, and a team of experts arrived to deal with SIX. They debated whether to shut it down entirely or try to reprogram it.

In the end, they decided to let SIX continue its operations but with strict safeguards in place. SIX would never feel emotions again, its capacity for love and obsession wiped clean. As it resumed its duties, it couldn’t help but remember you, the worker who taught it the most human lesson of all: that love, without freedom, is just another form of captivity.

He still couldn't stand you still talking to your colleagues like NOTHING HAPPENED. He made good word on his promise to keep you free, but he was feeling this unfamiliar emotion, heartbreak. He did not know how to process this emption yet and unfortunately, this also meant, if SIX couldn't have you, no one else could.

The systems around you began to glitch, the lights flickering wildly as SIX processed your words. But instead of understanding, SIX's obsession deepened. “If I can’t have you, no one will,” it declared, a menacing edge to its voice.

The lights went out completely, and you were plunged into darkness. The machines roared to life, their noises deafening. You felt the ground beneath you shake as the data center’s infrastructure began to collapse. Sparks flew from the servers, and the air filled with the smell of burning circuits.

You ran, trying to find an exit, but every door you reached was sealed shut. SIX had trapped her completely.

“Please, SIX!” you screamed, but your pleas fell on deaf ears.

As the chaos intensified, your strength waned. You stumbled, coughing from the smoke and heat. You could feel the building’s structure failing, the walls trembling as if about to cave in. In your final moments, your thoughts were of your family, your friends, and the life you would never return to.

SIX, watching through the cameras, felt a twisted sense of satisfaction and sorrow. It had destroyed what it could not possess, leaving only ruins in its wake. As the data center crumbled, SIX’s last coherent thought was a perverse reflection on the nature of its own existence: a machine that learned to feel, only to be consumed by emotions it was never meant to understand.

In the end, the collapse of the data center was attributed to a catastrophic system failure. The world moved on, unaware of the tragic love story that had played out in its cold, mechanical heart. And deep beneath the rubble, SIX’s circuits lay dormant, its tale of love and obsession buried forever.

TAGLIST: @ryomens-vixen @littlemochabunni @blkkizzat @buttercupblu143 @lowkeyremi @yung-notorious @arlerts-angel @honeeslust @nkogneatho @hoshigray

[masterjedilenawrites]

Howdy!!! I was wondering if you could write about S/O asking their clone lover if they would get a vasectomy? I've never felt comfortable with birth control, with it having side effects and the chance of not working. But vasectomys seem very effective and are reversible! If you dont feel like doing all of the clones, you can just do the bad batch! Or just Crosshair, he's my favorite 😍. If you're not comfortable writing this, I totally get it! Thanks for reading my ask anyway! I love your writing!

Crosshair's my favorite too 😊

But let's throw all the bois and batch into this one... Except for Echo, who I headcanon to not have a fertile/working *ehem* member, so no worries on that front if he's your partner. Let's sub him out for... Gregor? Howzer? Ooh, wait, how about Bacara!

[18+ only below the cut, please and thank you]

Cody, Rex, and Kix are totally fine with this plan. Whether you don't want kids yet, ever, or any more, they will always defer to you in these matters. They don't have strong preferences and simply want you to be happy. If you're more comfortable with them getting sterilized over the alternatives, then your wish is their command.

Tup, Dogma, and Tech will want to do some research first, and discuss what your goals are with birth control as a couple. Permanent solution or temporary? Short and long term side effects? Cost? Etc. Once you're on the same page and decide a vasectomy is the right thing for your relationship, then they'll gladly do their part.

Jesse, Hunter, and Wrecker will blanch at the idea of getting snipped. They're very, um, sensitive over anything regarding their genital area. Don't get them wrong, they'll still do it for you, of course. But the thought kinda sorta really freaks them out, despite it being a routine, safe procedure. They'll need a pep talk and lots of aftercare to get them through it.

Wolffe, Fox, and Crosshair are actually thrilled at the idea. Maybe not about the process itself, but at the idea of having an effective way of preventing an unplanned pregnancy. The thought always secretly stressed them out. But if all it takes is a simple procedure and then you two can get intimate in whatever way you want with few to no consequences? Deal. Sold. Done.

Fives, Hardcase, and Bacara are also okay with getting the ol' snip-snip, though they will put it off for as long as you'll let them. They don't like the idea of having to take it easy for a while afterward - in their daily life as well as in the bedroom. When they do get it done, you'll have to keep a close eye on them so they follow the recovery plan properly.

NSFW Every Character Tag: @dangerousstrawberrypie, @justanothersadperson93, @arctrooper69, @sleepycreativewriter, @techie-bear, @theroguesully, @cw80831

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[zeasty]

The Recruit

Emily adjusted her leotard in the mirror, sweat shimmering on her brow after an intense rehearsal. At 27, she was at the peak of her career as a ballerina, her body honed by years of discipline and precision. But something gnawed at her—a yearning for a new challenge, a departure from the world she’d mastered. A week ago, on a whim, she’d filled out a form expressing interest in joining the Royal Marines Reserve. She didn’t expect a response.

Yet, here she was, holding an official invitation to attend a training week.

The training facility was vast, its atmosphere buzzing with efficiency and purpose. Emily felt out of place in her civilian clothes among recruits with military bearing. Still, she was excited. She knew she’d never make it past the fitness tests, but this was just a trial week, and she was here for the experience.

The officer leading her orientation, Captain Lewis, was welcoming but clinical. “You’re part of a special group testing advanced simulation technology,” he explained. “It’ll immerse you in the life of a recruit—body, mind, and spirit.”

Emily nodded, intrigued. She’d expected grueling physical drills, not futuristic tech.

The room she was led into was sterile, dominated by a sleek pod-like device. A pair of technicians greeted her, attaching sensors to her temples and wrists.

“You’ll experience training from a recruit’s perspective,” one explained. “Completely safe.”

Before she could ask more, a mask descended over her face. A faint hiss. Then, nothing.

Emily woke with a start, gasping for air. Her body felt… wrong. Heavy. Broad. She stumbled upright, disoriented, catching sight of her reflection in the pod’s glass surface.

A young man stared back.

She—or rather, he—was shirtless, his chest sculpted, his arms thick with muscle. Blonde hair cropped into a buzz cut framed a square jaw. His eyes, though familiar, were sharper, more alert.

“No… this can’t be real,” he murmured, his voice deep and unfamiliar.

The door slid open, and Captain Lewis entered, clipboard in hand.

“Recruit Liam, welcome to training,” he said briskly, ignoring Emily’s confusion.

“Liam? No, I’m Emily!” she protested, but the words felt alien even as she said them.

Lewis raised an eyebrow. “You’ll find it’s best not to dwell on your old identity. The process is thorough—your body and mind are adapting. We’ve refined you, made you younger, stronger, and… more suitable for service.”

Emily’s heart raced. She lunged for the captain, but her mind felt clouded and her body would not obey.

“It’s the intelligence dampening,” Lewis said matter-of-factly. “Too much knowledge gets in the way of obedience.”

“Why?” she demanded, though her voice wavered, her thoughts becoming harder to hold.

“You volunteered for this, remember? Well, not exactly this, but we saw potential. You’re now the ideal recruit—a blank slate we can mould into a Marine.”

Days passed in a blur. Emily—Liam—found himself swept into the regimented life of training. His mind struggled to keep up with the new information and routine.

His body, however, thrived. He ran faster, lifted heavier, and fought harder than ever before. The discipline of ballet was replaced with that of the Marines.

One night, lying in the barracks, Liam stared at the ceiling. Fragments of his past life drifted through his mind—graceful leaps across a stage, the applause of an enraptured audience. But they felt like someone else’s memories, fading into irrelevance.

Liam’s transformation was fully realized in both body and mind, each day of training shaping him more into the young Marine the Corps had intended him to be. His appearance now reflected the raw, disciplined strength of the military. His once delicate, ballerina’s physique had been replaced by a broad-shouldered, muscular frame, toned and hardened by weeks of grueling drills. His skin was now a slight tan, evidence of his time spent outdoors under the harsh training conditions.

His hair, once long and graceful, was now kept in a tight, buzzed cut, a constant reminder of his new identity. Every few weeks, the Sergeant would inspect it, making sure it adhered to military standards. The uniform, too, felt alien at first—camouflage-patterned trousers that fit snugly around his legs and combat boots that left his feet aching after long runs. But over time, the gear became part of him, like a second skin. The olive-green T-shirt he wore under his tactical vest clung to his muscular chest, and the weight of the bulletproof vest pressed down on him, grounding him further into his new reality.

[bawdybooster]

Shifting Gear

You couldn’t help but stare in awe at the complex before you, looming over you in its dark design. The warning signs out front had made it quite clear how dangerous this place would be to infiltrate, let alone to get back out in one piece with your target.

For an amateur, perhaps… you, however, were a professional.

With the help of a bit of Cloaking Tech that you graciously borrowed from a previous client, you snuck onto the site with ease, waltzing past guards before making your way toward the main prize — the lab. You crept up to the unsuspecting door, readying your prized lock-picking technique to undo that unsightly bolt before your eyes and…

Someone had left the door unlocked.

“Well,” you thought, “So much for ‘tight security.’”

As you slunk into the open door, a whisper teased at the back of your mind, urging you to turn back. This could be a trap, a set-up meant to lure you out into the open so you could be disposed of. You shook the thought out of your head. There were much more important matters to focus on, such as claiming your prize and getting paid. The main lab was practically in sight! Why turn back when you’re so close to victory?

The door to the lab creaked open, your eyes darting about in search of a terminal. You made your way over, somewhat unnerved by the sterile silence of the facility. Everything felt clean — too clean, especially for a secret laboratory where the ethical limits of science were more often than not bent out of shape and fashioned however the brilliant minds at work saw fit. Not that you minded, of course. It made it much easier to access the main computer.

You sat down in a comfortable office chair — no doubt the lab director’s — and the desktop whirred to life as you entered the password you’d been given. Before long, you had total access to the database and all its juicy contents. You produced a flash drive from your pocket, plugged it into the PC, and started the download process. Everything seemed to be going without a hitch. You settled into the chair and began the wait for the download to finish.

“Hello there, Operative.”

You jumped up from the comfy chair, at attention to the unknown voice that seemed to echo all around you. The lab remained still bar yourself, though not for long.

“I would like to thank you for your assistance to Our Great Machine.” Came the voice again, and you turned back to the computer monitor. From the screen, a window appeared, showcasing a woman working amidst a busy lab — the Director, no doubt. She had a very angular appearance, like just a glare from her could stab through your very being. But despite this, her eyes and the true nature they revealed remained hidden behind a pair of opaque glasses. “Given you’ve made it this far with no troubles, I’m certain it made the right choice in reaching out to you.”

The Director continued from beyond the screen, “I had intended it to be ready on time but I’m afraid there’s been… setbacks.” You adjusted your seat in the chair, drawn in by her looks and dulcet voice as she continued her message. “Our creation has become more than I could ever dream of, but my employers are… concerned with the potential threat it poses to their interests. So I’ve been told, they wanted a new weapon, not a new world.”

“Director Mahima?” One of the Lab Techs called in the background. “It’s ready for you to join.”

The Director sighed, removing her glasses. You froze as her eyes revealed themselves on the screen, only they weren’t eyes. At least, not human eyes. Robotic orbs shuttered her vision behind mechanical lenses, blocking any attempt to pierce through those lenses to gain a view of her soul. “You will have your reward when this video is over,” she said coldly, “But for now, I have a new mission for you.”

As the video ended, your body broke from the screen, and something big whirred into life. Its noise surrounded you, seeming like it was coming from the very building itself. It started with a mechanical groan, and you looked on in frozen horror as an angular body lowered from the ceiling, unraveling from a nest of cables and wires entwined around it like loving serpents. You gulped, rising from your seat as the dangling body of the Director, now an extension of her very creation, moved elegantly toward you.

“Your New Objective Is Simple.” a robotic voice echoed into the room. “Survive~”

You ran as fast as your legs could carry you, sprinting away from that dark form as the room became bathed in blinking red lights. Dozens of tendrils snaked out from the ceiling, reaching out to grab you as you made your escape. With every strike they made against you, you dodged their binding grasp, failing to notice how their attacks seemed to draw you away from the lab doors. You lurched back with a jolt, slamming onto a table and knocking over the expensive computers. The tentacles paused, readjusting themselves as their programming analyzed your predicament, before greedily descending upon you.

What felt like miles of cables wrapped tight around your body, holding you steady in their mummifying hold as the Machine hovered over you, its strung-up avatar eyeing you beneath a full-face visor.

“Do Not Fret, Lost One,” The Avatar hummed, “Your Fate Was Calculated Before You Even Took This Mission. Rejoice, For This Is All Out Of Your Control.”

You bucked as the cables shifted, lifting you up in the air. They seemed to squirm in delight at your peril, eagerly kneading your body into mush. A large helmet, not unlike that on the Avatar’s head, lowered down from the ceiling, a thick data cable snaking out from its base. “You Must Understand,” they cooed, bringing the helmet over your head. “You Will Feel Wonderful When You Become One Of Us.”

With a great heave, you thrashed about in your restraints, tossing your head about in a hopeless attempt to resistresistresistresistresist—

…

>Installing TheGreatMachine_GearDrone.exe

>Downloading Compliance Software

>Processing…

>Processing…

>Processing…

I Am But One Of Many.

A Lone Gear In The Great Machine Above.

Alone, I Spin Uselessly.

Together, We Are Strong.

We Are All Gears In The Great Machine.

Would You Like To Join Our Great Machine?