#the wires in my brain were never the same after that

[omegalerc]

Im // this close to running EITHER an omega/Mpreg Charles fic fest or just a general f1 omegaverse fest I NEED more fics with babies okay

PLS ANON IF U EVER DO I WOULD DEFINITELY PARTICIPATE!! if this is the copium lestappen fandom is gonna take after recent events then im overdosing on copepills…

[malachitezmeyka]

Honestly this cold would be 5x more bearable if the way our mom used to treat colds when we were kids wasn’t so insanely traumatising

[tinfoil-jones]

Jerk Ford AU: The Worst Ford You Know II: Cosmic Switcharoo

~15 or so years ago

"Ya know you can just… not do this, right? You are a squishy human that's not even that special. All you have is a brain that is outclassed by countless amongst the multiverse, and a sense of misplaced righteousness that ya deserve somethin' grander as retribution for being bullied."

"The Oracle said that I would be the one to-"

"-beat Bill Cipher, same face, yada yada yada."

"You have talked to The O-"

"For Pete's sake Stanford, every Stanford that is thrown in the multiverse has talked to her! All of us! She gave the same goddamn bullshit spiel to thousands of us- maybe more!

If we all had a grand destiny to beat Bill Cipher- with this many 'Destined Heroes', why the Hell is he still out there, causing problems and bein' a major bitch?"

"So you're just going to not even try?!"

"Why bother putting myself in harms way? Bill is going to be another distant Stanford's problem with another hero complex. Me on the other hand? I'm tryin' to get back home to my family, because I know there's at least one person who will accept me no matter how many fingers I have, no matter how much social decorum I don't have, and especially not a 'lack of ambition' that's only ever noticed by supercilious versions of us, like you."

"Mark my words, Jerk Ford; ignoring your Bill Cipher problem is going to bite you in the end. Also, your Jersey is showing."

"Mark these nuts, Bitch Ford; ya fly's been down the whole time."

*supercilious = behaving or looking as though one thinks one is superior to others.

[Dialogue primarily by @tearosepedall]

There's a lot of difference between Canon Ford (Ford-46'\) and Jerk Ford (Ford-PJC311), one of the first things is how they return to their dimension.

Before Canon Ford returned to his dimension, he was doing his last-stand against Bill Cipher, and he went into his own portal when it popped up to stop Bill from doing it first.

Jerk Ford had heard about how most 'good' versions of Ford Pines were doing that, but he didn't see a point in doing the same because it wouldn't get him home faster, and most if not all of them would most likely die. So he got drunk the parking lot of a Space Waffle House, and his portal showed up.

Even though he injected himself with a Drunk-B-Gone concoction that he created to end alcohol intoxication, it needed a minute to take full effect.

Anyway, this is how Canon Ford returned to his dimension:

Dipper: What...? Who is that?

Stan: The author of the journals... my brother.

Mabel: Is this the part where one of us faints?

Soos: Ohoho, I am so on it, dude.

Meanwhile, this is how Jerk Ford returned to his dimension:

Mabel, Dipper, Soos: …

Stan: …

Jerk Ford: …I'm okay. *thumbs up from the ground*

Now let's say, something went wrong, that some cosmic wires within the hologram of reality were crossed, and somehow, someway, Canon Ford and Jerk Ford went through each others portals instead of their own. Perhaps their chance meeting almost two decades ago did something, and now they're in the wrong universe.

In Dimension PJC311 (w/ Canon Ford):

Stanley is elated to see his brother, after three whole decades, finally! His hard work has paid off! He's so excited, he doesn't notice that Dipper starts visibly vibrating in anger as soon as "Author of the Journals" leave his mouth.

He greets his brother with open arms - although, the way Stanford stalks towards him, it's almost like he's about to hit him. And does he seem a bit more... serious?

He barely has time to look confused as Ford rears a fist back - there's a THUNK sound, but a blow never lands on Stan. Because Ford is now keeled over on the ground, holding the back of his head because Dipper had just wacked him with a metal fold out chair that he found.

Ford, on his end, is in pain and confused (but mostly okay because of his protective metal plate) as Stan takes the chair away and scolds Dipper, telling him to apologize because no matter how unhelpful his journals were, he's still family.

His journals, unhelpful? That can't be true. As Stan is still trying to get 'Dipper' to apologize, Ford pulls back out the Journal he'd just picked up off of the floor, and quickly scans over it.

It's in his cursive handwriting, and drawn in his hyper-realistic sketching style. But... the entries are wrong. They're worded in a way that tells the reader to do the opposite of what they should do. Anyone who follows the advice of this would end up hurt, ridiculed, cursed, or some combination of those.

Even after thirty years, Ford knows for a fact that he would never write his research like this.

The kids and Soos start demanding answers. Stanley starts giving the backstory of himself and his brother, the portal incident, and the thirty years spent trying to fix the thing, it becomes abundantly clear to Ford that this isn't his world when the details don't line up the way they should.

Forgave him for the Perpetual Motion Machine? They went to Backupsmore together? He was banned from every establishment in Gravity Falls? People think Stanley murdered him???

In Dimension 46'\ (w/ Jerk Ford):

Although Stan is confused (although he does also find it a little bit funny) that his brother stumbled out of the portal and landed flat on his face, he's so excited to finally see him that he let's it slide for now. As long as he doesn't get drunk around the kids in the future, he'll excuse this incident.

Jerk Ford recovers pretty quickly as his Drunk-B-Gone finally takes full effect, and he walks over to Stan, accepting and returning the hug offered. Dipper finds it strange that "The Author" walks right past his Journal on the floor, even though he clearly noticed it.

Moreover, Soos notices something just as Jerk Ford withdraws from the embrace and steps back to properly take in his surroundings.

Soos: Are those... are those crocs?

Jerk Ford: aRe thOsE CrOCs? Do you even hear yourself right now? Of course they're crocs. I'm almost sixty, The Drip can take the backseat.

Stanley is certainly taken aback- sure, his brother could be insensitive sometimes, but he's never seen him rapid-fire mock someone outright. Also, even after thirty years, he never saw his brother as the type to pick up and use modern slang.

Also, did he really just call the kids "Twerps"? Ford had never been a kid person, but-

The kids and Soos start demanding answers. Stanley starts giving the backstory of himself and his brother, the portal incident, and the thirty years spent trying to fix the thing, it becomes abundantly clear to Jerk Ford that this isn't his world when the details don't line up the way they should.

Turned his back on him? Homeless conman? They didn't speak for ten whole years? Stanley faked his own death???

In Dimension PJC311 (w/ Canon Ford):

This time, Ford does not give his half of the story, and uses the excuse that he needs a minute to collect himself. He doesn't know what dimension he's in, he just knows it isn't his own.

The motley crew of an alternate version of his brother, his apparent grand-niblings (one of which hates his guts), and a large hairless gopher (his nephew?) tell him about being encroached on by the U.S Government, and he handles them just like he did in canon; he is surprised however when Stanley tells him to only erase the memories he needs to, and not to add something unnecessary 'just because it would be funny'.

Stanley also questions how Ford forgot how to use the memory gun, considering he invented it.

Wait, what? Uh, it's been thirty years, he forgot some things.

When they get the agents off of their backs, Ford looks at what had once been his home. It was certainly more lively and lived in than when he had last been here. Things not entirely organized, some things out of place here and there but expected when there were two children in the house.

It was a home. And it wasn't his home, in more ways than one.

He notices a particular photo on the mantle - because he had a near-identical one, once upon a time. It was the one taken shortly after he'd mathematically proven Fiddleford's hologram theory. There's a few differences however; for one, Ford in the photo looks more smug than excited, for another, Fiddleford is enraged and looks like he's trying to strangle him, but the biggest difference is that Stanley is there and he's struggling hold Fiddleford back.

When he snoops around a bit, and in what must be Stan's office or study, he finds amongst other things on the wall (pictures of the twins, Soos throughout the years, and a red-headed girl appear quite frequently) that Stanley has a masters degree in Education and PhD in Analytical Chemistry. He has teaching awards going back decades.

Words that Stanford heard a lifetime ago and hadn't thought of in a long time come back to mind with startling clarity:

"No, no. You don't understand what I've been through! I've been to prison in three different countries! I once had to chew my way out of the trunk of a car! You think you've got problems? I've got a mullet, Stanford!"

In Dimension 46'\ (w/ Jerk Ford):

Like his canon counterpart, Jerk Ford chooses to not give his half of the story, using the excuse that he’s still in shock and needs a minute for his fight/flight/freeze to die down so he can think clearly. He doesn’t know what dimension he’s in, he just knows there’s been some kind of mix up in the cosmos.

When the alternate version of his brother and their grand-niblings, and a giant hairless gopher who may or may not also be his nephew, tell him that some government agents are after them, the first thing Jerk Ford asks for is his memory gun.

The grand-niblings look baffled (because they knew it was Old Man McGucket who created the memory gun), but give up the memory gun, and Stan looks suspicious because he had no idea that ‘his brother’ had built a memory gun. Just like in canon, Jerk Ford memory blasts Agents Powers and Trigger, but once they’re gone he also casually drops the following tidbit to Stan;

Jerk Ford: I also erased the concept of how to take a left-hand turn while I was at it.

Stan: …Why?

Jerk Ford: To make their drive back to D.C more… entertaining. *snerk*

Stan wonders what being gone for thirty years really did to his brother, and Dipper is still fanboying over ‘The Author’ but Jerk Ford makes a rude remark about Dipper “hovering over him like a fly on s[beep]”. He does, at least, promptly clean up his language when Stan tells him to watch what he says to the kids. Jerk Ford notes that this version of Stan is more aggressive than his own, which is typical of the variants he’s seen over the years.

Stan tells him about the Mystery Shack - like most versions of himself, Jerk Ford isn’t a fan, but he isn’t going to be in Stan’s face about it. Who knows what the circumstances of this were?

Jerk Ford: Was teaching not paying you enough?

Stan: Teaching… what?

Jerk Ford:

Jerk Ford: Nevermind what I said *steals a novelty shirt in front of everybody*

The layout of the cabin is different, but it did remind him a lot of home. When he and Stan had moved to Gravity Falls, the way the interior was set up and decorated always seemed to be a clash of the brothers interests. Stan’s insistence on making the place seem more like home, and Ford’s projects and research always haphazardly breaking free of the confines of his lab, bedroom, and study. This version of Stan seemed to find a happy middle, because a lot of weird and cryptic objects were there, but integrated and functional to what a home was supposed to be.

But it still wasn’t his home. This wasn’t his family.

While Stan was distracted with trying to get the kids to go to bed in spite of the excitement earlier, and Soos was making a rambling phone call to someone who sounded tired on the other end, Jerk Ford snuck off to snoop. He didn’t used to be so covert when it came to messing with other peoples stuff, but after that incident with a non-portaled Ford who nearly killed him, he was more careful with that these days. You never know when you’ll find skeletons that should have been laid to rest, and inconsolable crypt keepers who’d sooner bury you instead.

It looks like someone had beaten him to the punch of looking through Stan’s more hidden things - a lot of stuff that confirmed what Stan had already covered when talking about his and his brothers backstory. Fake id’s and news articles. Nothing that really stood too much to help Jerk Ford figure out who’s dimension this was. This Stan’s backstory was almost beat-by-beat similar to the one he heard from most of his variants, and versions of Stan that ended up being the one on the other side of the portal instead. That lack of a gimmick in this dimension didn’t make things easier.

Although… every aspect of this dimension seemed to be found, in at least some small way, in all of the other dimensions. Could it be…?

The prime dimension? The alpha timeline that many versions of Stanford Pines had been speculating about but never could confirm? He needed more data before he could-.

Well, this Stanley isn’t his brother, but if he’s going to identify this dimension and hopefully return to his own, he’d need to explain his situation to him first.

To be continued...?

[topazy]

Teen spirit

Pairing: Carl Grimes x reader

Warnings: Swearing, main character death, violence

Chapter: 7.01

Your eyes sting when tears roll down your cheeks, leaving a horrible salty taste on your dry lips. The sound of Negan’s wooden bat pounding into someone's skull over and over was horrific. Negan pretended to play a game of eenie meenie miney mo while deciding who to kill, but he already had his mind made up.

“Show them no goddamn fear.”

Negan picked Abraham because he showed him no fear. For all you thought he could be an asshole, at times Abraham was brave, and he risked his life multiple times to save others. He was a hero, and he was loved.

“Did you hear that?” Negan chuckles. “He said, Suck my nuts!”

A couple of the men laugh behind him. Negan swings his bat around, causing blood to splatter across Rick’s face. His eyes move along the line up looking for someone else to torment, and when he gets to the end, he smiles.

“Oh shit girly, that wasn’t your daddy, was it?”

You can’t hold back the sob that escapes your mouth. Rosita was a hysterical mess beside you, and you’d never seen Rick look so terrified before. Would anyone get out of this alive? You wished your dad was with you; he always knew how to make you feel better.

Negan crouches down so he’s eye level with you. “Tell me, am I the worst man you’ve ever met?”

You wipe at your nose before letting out a shaky breath. “No, I’ve met a worse man than you.”

Negan smirks at your answer; he enjoys scaring you. You sob when he uses the bloodied bat to stroke the strands of your hair that had fallen in front of your face, leaving small parts of Abraham's blood in your hair. Horrified, you try to brush it out with your fingers, but Negan did the same thing but on the opposite side of your head.

“Leave her alone!” Daryl snaps; he leaps to his feet and punches Negan in the face.

“No!” You are screaming and watching as two men start to beat Daryl. “He’s sorry, just stop it! Please, please don’t hurt him!”

Negan chuckles. “That? Oh my. That is a no, no. The whole thing, not one bit of that shit flies here.”

Dwight steps out of the crowd and points Daryl’s own crossbow at him while he’s pinned to the ground. “Do you want me to do it?”

“No.” Negan had a sadistic smile on his face. “No, you don’t kill them... not until you try a little.”

Dwight looks confused for a moment, but he grabs Daryl and drags him back to his space in the line-up.

“And anyway, that’s not how it works. Now I already told you people the first ones are free, but I said I would shut that shit down! No exceptions.”

Your breath catches in your throat when Negan steps closer to your side of the line-up. He was going to kill one of you next. You close your eyes, not wanting to see the bat coming.

“Now, I don’t know what kind of lying asses you’ve been dealing with, but I am a man of my word. First impressions are important. I need you to know me. So… back to it.”

Your eyes flicker open, and you scream, seeing the bat covered in barbed wire and blood coming down towards you, but Negan doesn’t hit you; he hits Glenn, who was right beside you.

Glenn survives two blows to the head, but one of his eyes was popping out of his head. He manages to lift his head; he was in so much pain, grunting and sputtering blood from his mouth.

“Are you still there, buddy?” Negan asks mockingly. “I just don’t know. It seems like you’re trying to speak, but you just took a hell of a hit. I’ve hit your skull so hard your eyeball just popped out, and it is gross as shit!”

“Maggie, I’ll find you.”

Maggie sobs in response to Glenn’s final words before Negan counts to beat him. He continues to hit him until his skull is completely destroyed.

“You bunch of pussies! I’m just getting started.”

You feel as if you struggle to breathe when parts of Glenn's brain land across your lap. After your father died, you looked to Rick, Daryl, Michonne, Glenn, and Abraham for strength; they were the ones who kept your community safe. And now the blood of two of them was quite literally on your hands.

“Lucile is thirsty; she is a vampire.”

Maggie was distraught. First your mom and brother, then your dad, then Beth, and now Glenn were gone. You just pray to God that if you make it out alive, she doesn’t lose her baby.

“Now back to you.” Negan points his bat directly in front of your face, causing you to tremble with fear; seeing the blood drip off it so closely to your face causes you to freeze. “Which one of my men stabbed you?”

You’re unable to speak.

“Come on now, kid, you won’t get in trouble for telling me.”

Your eyes darted around the circle of men who were standing and watching Negan torment you all. You finally spot the man who stabbed, “h—h—him.” You swallow thickly, terrified of what was to come next. “It was him who stabbed me.”

Negan walks over to the man and pats him on the shoulder, then brings him out of the circle. “This man right here attacked you.”

You nod.

Negan swings his bat again and strikes the man across the face, causing him to scream in pain. But unlike Glenn and Abraham, he doesn’t beat them to death. “As you said, he’s a man who took the easiest option by stabbing a little girl. I can’t have that.”

—

Before you know it, the sun is starting to rise again. You do your best to avoid looking to your left. The daylight only meant it was easier to see what was left of Glenn.

Your heart drops when the RV pulls up to where you are all still kneeling, the outside of it covered in blood. Negan had taken Rick somewhere, and you expected him to be the next victim, but to your surprise, the door opens and Negan shoves out of the van.

“Rick, do you even know what that little trip was about?”

Rick doesn’t answer; he’s in complete shock.

Negan sighs, “Speak when you’re spoken to.”

“Okay, okay.”

“That trip was about the way you looked at me. I wanted to change that. I wanted you to understand, but you’re still looking at me like that. Like I shit in your scrambled eggs, but that’s not going to work. So... Do I give you another chance?”

“Yeah, yes. Yes.”

“Okay, alright.” Negan smiles. “The grand prize game. What you decide next will be the difference between everyone’s last crap day or just another crap day.”

Negans men step forward and put guns to the back of everyone’s head. Perhaps death would be the better option than being tortured anymore. He was continuing to torment Rick by mocking him and threatening everyone at the same time.

“Kid…” Negan wags his finger in Carl's direction. “Right here. Kid, now.”

Carl glares at him but does as he says.

Negan pulls what looks like a leather belt from the side of his black biker jacket. “Are you a southpaw?”

“A what?”

“You a lefty?”

With nothing but venom in his voice, he answers, “No.”

Negan’s amused by his attitude, “good.” He ties the belt around Carl’s arm. “That hurt?”

“No.”

“Should. It’s supposed to.” Negan steps back, “Get down on the ground, kid, next to daddy. Spread those wings.”

When Carl goes to lay on his stomach on the ground, Negan pushes on his back, forcing him onto the gravel below. “Simon, you got a pen?”

“Yeah,” Simon tosses him a black marker pen.

Negan puts the pen lid in his mouth and starts drawing on Carl's arm. When he’s done, he laughs, looking directly at Rick. “I ain’t doing shit. Rick, I want you to take your axe... cut your son's left arm off, right on that line.”

Rick looks utterly traumatized.

Negan was giving him a horrific ultimatum. Amputate Carl’s arm or watch Carl and everyone else be murdered.

“You don’t have to do this,” Michonne pleads. “We understand, we understand.”

“You understand? Yeah. I’m not sure Rick does. I’m gonna need a clean cut right there in that line. Now I know this is a screwed up thing to ask, but it’s gonna have to be like a salami slice, nothing messy. Clean. Forty-five degrees; give us something to fold over. We’ve got a great doctor; the kid will be fine. Probably.”

Rick looks completely lost in his own head, a thousand times worse than when he went a bit crazy after Lori died.

“Rick... this needs to happen now. Chop, chop. Or I’ll crush the little fella's skull in myself.”

“It can... it can... It can be me. It can be me. You can do it to me.”

“No, this is the only way. Rick picked up the axe. Not making a decision is a big decision. Oh my god, I will start counting. Three!”

“Please, please, I can be me!” Rick cries hysterically.

“Two!”

“Please, don’t do...”

Negan slaps him then grips his jaw. “This is it. One!”

Rick lets out an agonizing sob, then reaches for the axe. You cover your mouth when Rick raises the axe in the air, but right before he can do it Negan stops him. “You answer to me. You provide for me. You belong to me. Right?”

Rick nods.

“Speak when spoken to! You belong to me!”

“Yes.”

“That’s the look I wanted to see.” Negan stands with a proud look on his face. “Well, it took a while, but we got there. Even the dead guys are on the ground. Hell, they get the spirit award for sure. Today was a productive damn day! Now, I hope, for all your sake, you get it now. That you understand how things work. Dwight load him up.”

You try to reach for Daryl’s hand, but they take him. You completely zone out after that, trying to think of any happy memories buried in the back of your mind so you can block what just happened out.

—

You vaguely hear Maggie say she wants to fight the saviors, but her voice is so far away that it’s hard to register if it’s going on for real or inside your head.

Their blood was still on you.

Looking down, you start scratching at your hands, trying to get the blood that had dried in off your skin.

It’s not until someone’s arms wrap around your shoulders, pulling your hands apart, that you start to snap out of it. “Stop it; you’re going to hurt yourself.”

“I need to get it off.”

“And we will,” Michonne says calmly. “I’m bringing you back to Alexandria. We’ll get you cleaned up.”

[torturedtypewritersdept]

blue eyes + bruises - part two

✯ pairing:

doctor!rafe cameron x fem!reader

✯ summary:

a tragic car accident looks like it'll be the end for you, but dr. cameron is here to make sure that doesn't happen.

✯ warnings:

mature themes, mentions of anxiety, nostalgia, and fear, car accident, death of a spouse (not rafe or y/n), major surgery, injuries, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, etc.

✯ a/n:

nothing!! please don't engage if you have a hard time with any of these topics <3 this was origianlly posted on my old blog @/illicitfixations, @/lovelornanonymity back in 2021/2022 and i have rewritten + reshared it here :)

m.list

It only took minutes to get you into the operating room, Rafe had made sure of that – doctors on stand by as you were rolled quickly inside. He continued compressions as his colleagues worked around you, attaching a ventilator quickly to your lungs and cords and wires to your chest as your beautiful satin pale blue dress was cut away from your body and its arch nemesis cerulean blue surgical garb was draped over the different sections of your body that you were bleeding from. Rafe darted from the scene, rushing into the scrub room. He washed his hands quickly, but dutifully in his pursuit to get back to you. Jenni, his favorite nurse, helped him into his surgical clothes quickly, sliding his arms through the long blue sleeves and tying the back of it. It was funny, really, the way it resembled the structure of a hospital gown; one in the same with his patients in that way. As he made his way beside you, his gloved hand found its home against your hair and he leaned down to whisper in your ear. 

“You hold on for me, sweetheart, okay? I’m going to make it all better. I just need you to fight a little bit.” 

He said softly as he stood back upright and watched Jenni work the portable x-ray machine across you in search of any cracks amidst the shell of your body. 

“What are we looking at Cameron?” 

Dr. Richardson, Rafe’s long time friend and colleague asked as he looked over Jenni’s shoulders at the x-rays on the computer. 

“Extensive bone damage to the left side, specifically the femur, pelvis, and kneecap. She’ll need more than one surgery. I need to stabilize her leg for now. There’s possible soft tissue damage, she’ll need an MRI later to be sure.” 

He replied and Richardson nodded in his direction, understanding that Rafe meant you’d need more treatment if and when they could get you safely out of the woods. 

—

Some time later, Rafe stood over your body – cold, sterile, medical instruments in his hands as he dutifully worked to put your broken bones back together. He had watched on for hours as his colleagues repaired the internal bleeding in your abdomen and your brain. His body still remained canopied in seafoam colored scrubs underneath the blue surgical garb that he was required to wear in the operating room and his feet adorned in the best tennis shoes money could buy. He had a routine for surgery and over the last two years it had become a sort of safe haven for him – it was the only place that he didn’t think about her. The routine – simple in principle – his feet viciously traveling the white floors speckled with dots of gray as he rushed patient after patient in, the dressings, the blood, the practice of the procedures he performed – it all grounded him, down to the very essence of washing the remnants from his body when the performance was over. Wash, rinse, repeat, wash, rinse, repeat – he melodically spoke over himself after every discontinuation of the processes, whether the outcome was good or bad. He whispered reassurances to every person – the same ones he had whispered to you – though he never knew which way it would go. They went into the operating room, never knowing if they’d come out. The routine of it all had saved him, but all of that was washed away, like water under the bridge, as your blood trickled off of his hands. He closed his eyes for a moment and wondered if the outcome would be the same, if after all his efforts, would you end up just like she did. Would he be unable to save you, just like he couldn’t save her? 

“Paddles now! She’s crashing!” 

Dr. Richardson yelled, as he stood across from Rafe who was tending to the fractures you had sustained from the accident. 

“Charge to 350. Clear!” 

The shock sent electricity through your body, making your back arch off of the table, but still you continued to flatline. He did it again, your body responding in the same way – jerking off the table – yet, still, you flatlined and for Rafe it was visceral. The sound of the machine echoing that horrible constant beep, signaling that there was no life connected to it – it gutted him. 

“It may be time to call it, guys.” 

Dr. Richardson muttered in defeat to which Rafe found repulsive. 

“Absolutely not!” 

Rafe’s voice boomed across your body, as he took over. No one seemed to notice the crack in it as he did his best to keep his tears at bay. Dr. Richardson simply stepped aside, he knew your injuries were too bad, there was no way you were going to survive. But, he also knew that Rafe had to feel like he did everything he possibly could. He had to know that history didn’t repeat itself because of him this time. 

“Charge to 400! Clear!” 

Rafe was the one to send the electricity through your body this time and as he waited for your heart to start, the way that he knew it would, the seconds felt like hours and just when he was about to give up — the miniscule beat sent a series of beeps across the screen. 

“There you go, pretty girl. I knew you could do it.” 

He whispered above you, before getting back to his position and continuing his work on your bones, giving Dr. Richardson room to patch up the bleeding of your internal organs. 

-

Rafe stood outside of your hospital room, looking in on you every so often, he was pretending to do his nightly charting at the nurses station and every time he put his pen to the paper something stopped him. You were all he could think about, the way your eyes pleaded for his help in the emergency department, the way you said his name when you asked him if you were going to die, and where in the hell your family must be – didn’t they care? He finished off the chart he was doing and when he opened up the next file folder, your name appeared. Y/N Y/L/N. ‘Pretty name for a pretty girl,’ he thought. He wasn’t distracted as he listed your injuries, described the incident, and signed off on the surgery he had completed. He wasn’t distracted because this was about you. 

“How’s she doing?” 

Rafe looked up from your chart to the voice of his scrub nurse, Jennifer, who had helped operate on you. Everyone in the operating room knew that Rafe had grown attached to you, though, unsure why, he had never met you before, when he looked into your eyes, something was just different. Jenni knew if he didn’t save you he wouldn’t live with himself, he couldn’t live himself. So, she was really asking more for his sake than her own. 

“She’s doing okay, right now. Not out of the woods yet. We’ll know more when she wakes up. Did you find any family?” 

He questioned, never removing his eyes from the document held within the folder that he was writing on. 

“Mother in Georgia, but can’t come up because of ‘business obligations’. Real mom of the year type.”

Jenni said, rolling her eyes. 

“Her daughter could die and she’s worried about business obligations?” 

He asked incredulously. 

“You know the type well, Rafe.” 

He scoffed at the thought of his father doing the exact same thing if it were him who was in this situation. 

“I don’t know, Rafe. Nothing surprises me anymore. So, give me a run down.”

She replied. 

“Broken ribs, torn acl, whiplash, shattered kneecap, broken pelvis, concussion, broken femur, internal bleeding, brain bleed – you name it, she’s got it. We’ve got her in a medically induced coma to give her body some time to repair itself and if she wakes up, we’ll go back in and do more surgery. Truth be told – she’s a fighter, I don't know how she’s survived this long.” 

He said with an exasperated sigh, knowing the inevitable was coming, simply preparing himself for it. Your injuries – they were a lot to heal from and he knew that firsthand.  

“I believe she has Dr. Rafe Cameron to thank for that.” 

She gave him a soft smile and he returned it. 

“You’re a good friend, Jenni and you’re way too kind.” 

He reached out, placing his palm on her shoulder and gave her a pat on her back.

“I mean it, Rafe. They would’ve called time of death if you hadn’t spoken up. You should go in there and sit with her, it won’t hurt anything.” 

She nodded her head toward the door of your room and he shrugged. 

“It’s not really my place.” 

He spoke, but it came out barely audible, almost a whisper. She heard him and she knew what he meant. 

“Maybe not, but she has nobody coming for her and I know you feel connected to her. Don’t try to fight it to protect yourself. If she dies, it’ll hurt and it’ll be sad. But, if she doesn't, do you really want to live with the fact that you could’ve been holding her hand when she woke up? Do you really want her to wake up to no one being there? She’s not Molly, Rafe and I know you better than that.” 

Jenni left Rafe to think about what she had said while she tended to another patient. She came out of the room to find Rafe, evidently making a decision and she watched him from afar as he gingerly entered the threshold of your room, sitting down in the plastic chair next to you. She smiled to herself, knowing that he was in deep, deeper than even he was aware of. 

—

masterlist:

as always, if you'd like to be added to or removed from the taglist, please shoot me an ask or comment on this post so i can keep track <3

@maybankslover @inthelibrarybtw @luvrcndy @silkylovey @yagirlwrites @obxbabygirl @rafeecameronsbitch @klutzy-kay24 @roseczbalt @akobx @allsmilesreally7 @wtfdudesblog

[mjolnirswriststrap]

Just Another Notch

Bucky Barnes x Plus Size F!Reader

Masterlist Part 3/?? Part 4

Word Count: 1,824

Summary: If Bucky thinks his charms will work on you, then you’re gonna put up one hell of a fight to prove him wrong.

Warnings: Nothing explicit 18+, until later chapters, read at your own discretion. Fat shaming, bully!Steve. Protective!Bruce

Training felt useless. When you made it to the simulation room, you didn’t even power up the hologram tech. You sat in the chair facing the super computer. Seeing your reflection in the monitor screen, cause tears to well in your eyes. You thought you were beautiful, when you looked in the mirror after you got dressed, you felt so confident. The look on Bucky’s face when you emerged from your room boosted that confidence tenfold. You could laugh at yourself now. How quickly things change, it’s the cosmos teasing you. Blowing a long breath out of puckered lips, you drop your forehead, landing it on the cool glass desktop. Maybe you bit off more than you can chew. Maybe you weren’t strong enough to play this kind of game.

You knew you never stepped foot in that gym for a reason. Why did you think today would be different? “You ok?” You raise up, searching the room. “Uh hello?” You say, standing up when you still don’t spot anyone. You see the top of a curly head of hair bent under a desk. Walking up to it, the gym situation leaves your mind instantly. You see Bruce folded up untangling wires underneath a desk. “What a sight.” You laugh. “Yeah, yeah, poke your fun.” He contorts himself free, standing up to press the power button on the monitor screen.

When he’s met with continued darkness, he rolls his eyes and faces you. “Your forehead.” He motions towards his own. You make eye contact with yourself in the mirrored wall behind him. Apparently you’d banged your head harder than you thought. You didn’t feel it but you saw the blood at your hairline. “Oh my.” Your eyes grew to be big like saucers.

You look at the desk to see a large crack down the center of it. “I heard you do it, that’s why I asked if you were okay.” He was looking at you with disbelief that you did that to yourself without noticing. “It didn’t hurt, don’t worry about me.” You brush him off, running to the sink in the corner to wash the blood and sweat from your face.

“I know you have a hard head, my desk though? Priceless and fragile.” He jokes, you can hear the real concern under his voice. “What happened, really?” Bruce steals your rolling chair, sitting below you, looking up intently. His big brown eyes gave you the courage to admit it. “Just the same old, same old.” You kick at one of the wheels to the chair.

“C’mon, you know it’s not good to hold it in. Let the doctor help.” He sounds playful, but you know he’s dead serious. You never considered Bruce one of the main team, so there was no reason to ice him out. He was a scientist more than anything. He spent almost one hundred percent of his time in this simulation room, save for when you both knew you’d rather be training alone. He kept you company, not in the verbal sense.

Most of the time the room was filled with the clicking of keys and hard labored breaths. You both did your own thing, over time you started appreciating each others meekness and opened up. Once you got the man talking, he never stopped. You’re sure his brain is a computer, he soaks up information and spits it back out, corrected. You knew better than to ever lie to him, he was far too smart to fall for whatever you planned to say.

“Tell me.” His smile drops and you feel yourself break a little more. “I embarrassed myself, Bruce.” You look away from his saddening eyes. They were starting to pool with pity, and that’s the last thing you want from him. “Hard to believe, but how?” He says, grabbing your wrist to keep you from running away.

With a deep breath you begin, “I went the the gym with Bucky this morning, mistake one.”. Bruce quickly interjects “Bucky? What are you doing hanging out with him?” He presses his eyebrows together, you can’t discern his expression, was it judgement or something else? “It’s a long story.” You find yourself looking down and away from him again. Like there’s a smudge of guilt and shame creeping in.

“I’ve got time.” He raises his arms in a gesture that conveyed ‘bring it on’. God he wanted the details, why? You glance around the room, finding another chair and rolling it infront of him. “Where should I start?” You giggle, forcing yourself to lighten the mood. “The beginning, please.” He starts to bounce his knee.

“Last night, I was eating my late night cereal in the kitchen, when everyone got home.” Bruce folds his arms and nods. “Bucky joined me in the kitchen and well, he dumped a bowl of milk on me. It was an accident, I think.”

“You think it was an accident? Or you have proof of otherwise?” He says, tilting his head. “Maybe the latter.” You admit. “Okay, so the guy spills milk on you, so you go workout with him?” He was obviously confused. “Not directly after! He apologized and brought me coffee this morning to apologize again, offered to help me out with training.” Bruce rolls his eyes again and you’re sure they’ll fall out the next time.

“Please tell me you didn’t believe he was just innocently apologizing.” He sounds annoyed with you, it kinda stings. You never expected Bruce to get upset with you over it. “What else would he be doing?” You shrug your shoulders at him, genuinely curious if he saw it the same way. “Anyone with eyes here knows, that Casanova, will pull any girl in the building, I’m sure he doesn’t even have a type.”. So Bruce also thinks Bucky was flirting with you.

“I honestly didn’t want to believe it. Why would a guy like him be with me?” You shake your head, trying to throw the thoughts from your mind. “He has been nothing but nice to me, I promise.” You look him in the eyes and you see the tone you’ve been hearing in his voice. Flecks of green shine and then die out instantly, his knee was bouncing faster than before. “If he was so nice then why’d you leave the gym?” His voice wasn’t questioning, it was accusatory.

You choose your next words carefully. “Steve came in, and he said something that wasn’t so nice, so I left. That’s all, Bucky didn’t even do anything, there goes his attempt at sleeping with the whole office.” You try to laugh it off, but Bruce isn’t budging. “What did he say?”

“I was getting a water from the vending machine-“ before you could finish, his knee stopped bouncing, and he unfolded his arms. Now you were worried. “Did he comment on your weight, yes or no?” He stands up, harshly slamming the chair into the desk. You would never lie to Bruce, but the truth might start something you don’t want. “Sorta…” you say, ashamed. He strides past you, and now you’re reaching out for him, “Wait.”.

“No, I’m tired of these pompous assholes doing and saying what they want. I’m not letting it happen, especially to you.”. He looks back before exiting the room, and you feel something in your chest swell. He was so serious right now, you could feel the anger radiating off of him. You didn’t know Bruce felt anything besides casual friendship for you, now you’re starting to think differently.

“I’m coming.” You run to catch up with him, taking long strides behind him as his white lab coat swings behind him, and in front of you. “What makes him think he can even speak on my- on you?” He redirects as he swings the gym door open.

You’re met with Bucky and Steve racing each other in push-ups. “99-100!” “You suck.” “You cheated.” They’re laughing as if you and Bruce didn’t just walk in. “No one cares.” Bruce cuts in. The look of annoyance on his face was enough to confuse the super soldiers. “What are you doing out of the lab?” Steve jokes, but no one laughs. “The next time you even so much as think about Y/N, you’ll be talking to the big guy, not me.”. Steve looks around the gym, wondering who Bruce thinks he is. “Sure, pal.” He grabs a towel and wipes the sweat from his neck. “Tell your girlfriend to lose some weight then.” Before you could even be hurt, all you saw was green.

Hulk was infront of you now, taking heaving breaths. You poke your head out from behind him and see Steve and Bucky holding their hands out as if they were calming a wild boar. “Woah, don’t you think you’re over reacting?” Steve says, stepping back. “Y/N! Call off your dog!.” He says, tripping over his own feet.

Hulk slowly stalks towards both of the men, ready to shred them to pieces. A sinister smile on his face. You feel no pity for Steve, but the thought of Bucky being hurt in the crossfire didn’t sit right with you. Before the jolly green giant could break a bone you pipe up loudly. “Hulk? Hey! Over here!” You wave your hands around in the air.

He can see your tiny form trying to catch his attention, and Hulk has the peace of mind to just ignore you, and do what he knows best, smash. The first fist landed on the gym floor, splinters of wood flew everywhere, a hole to the basement left in its place. “Hulk!” You scream this time and it catches his attention. “Go home!” You demand. You knew better than to have a civilized conversation with him. He knew how to take orders from Fury, so maybe it would work. When he just stands there and looks at you, you double down. With a faux confidence, you looked him in his giant green eyes. “Now, Hulk!” You raise an eyebrow, like a tested mother, as if you were about to count to three.

You don’t know why, the hulk didn’t frighten you one bit, but silly, mean words would make you crumble. He growls one last time at the scared super soldiers before breaking through the door way leading outside. Leaving you alone with the men you almost had killed. Bucky looks in disbelief, like he wasn’t almost used for a human punching bag. “Sorry.” You shy away, stepping on fallen bricks to follow Bruce outside.

“What the actual fuck just happened?” You hear Steve ask, but you’re halfway to the swaying trees before you could hear his response. You don’t really know where Bruce lives, so following him through the woods was your only option. You don’t want him destroying more floor boards on your account. Also, you need to find out why he was so passionate about defending you.

Tag List:

@cjand10

@winterslove1917

@honestlywork

@calwitch

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@sashaisready

@thejujvtsupost

@toxicteapot

[tinydumpsterdiver]

So I've been thinking about Axle's early past a bit.. uhhh

Yeah here are a few doodles and a sketch. Along with a small bit of Axle's early childhood life. I got carried away

Just some simple doodles of Axle's childhood. He technically grew up in a lab although he wasn't born in captivity. Most of his early childhood was doing puzzles or tests, lots of observation as well.

His development is similar to that of a human in terms of brain growth and physical form. He grows at about the same rate as a human just on a far smaller scale.

For the most part in his younger years he mostly did cognitive testing and development. They mostly used simple tests, and some general animal psychology experiments. Such as seeing what he did for fun, for food, and some logical reasoning.

The odd time the scientists still would do a surgery or two on a young Axle, but it wasn't the norm at that time.

However as time went on they began to do more invasive tests.

Axle had always liked the scientists growing up, as he was younger he'd seen them as a sort of family, having favorites and having preferred caretakers. But at the age of about 12 years old even the nicer caretakers had begun to grow sour.

People were being more careful around him, using gloves more often, constricting his movements more often, and other things of the sort which Axle noticed.

The experiments eventually began to get more invasive, such as when he was 13 he had his first brain vivisection specifically. It was a procedure to place wires into his brain to do more invasive tests on his nervous system.

He tried asking more questions, which quickly he learned would get him nowhere. Soon even the nice humans he'd barely see anymore or they would just leave all together. It was at the age of 13 he'd decided he didn't like the humans or how they kept him captured. He didn't know what else there could be, but he knew from the little bits and pieces he was able to listen to that there had to be more than the lab.

At the age of 14 Axle was being treated more like the mice he'd been raised with than a person that the scientists would talk to passively. Axle only grew more resentful as the months went on and the rotation of scientists got more harsh.

At 16 he was being treated as though he was completely feral. He refused to cooperate with the humans but they would refuse to let him feel like he had any form of control over the situation whatsoever.

Ok so this was just a doodle that got out of hand and colored. It's not great but it's the best I got rn. I'm pretty stressed out lol

Anyways. Axle had a pretty traumatic upbringing, but it did teach him to never trust humans which was probably the best thing he could have learned for when he did eventually escape one day.

He did have his mother with him at one point in captivity, but one day she disappeared and he never really figured out what happened to her. Current Day Axle likes to think she managed to escape one day and was free somewhere.

Axle after that day grew up around mice, usually a circulation of mice that were young enough not to be a danger to Axle. But this really took a toll on him when eventually all his mice friends would get taken away and he'd have to get attached to new friends all over again.

Sometimes the scientists would have him do experiments alongside grown mice, sometimes he would remember them but usually not. Under normal circumstances the mice were never aggressive with Axle, but were usually more curious about him.

Ok my unorganized ranting is over. I'm not sure. I think it's fun to share my silly cringe lore.

Thanks for reading it! Or thanks for just looking at the art ^^

Sending positive vibes y'all

Till next time

[sandorsubs]

wiring your brain to control shifting

i was playing a video game but level was extremely hard. i shed blood and sweat, thinking "maybe this game is for pros and i'm not a good gamer" i was this close to give up but i wanted to see rest of the game so badly i kept trying. finally i passed it thinking it's just luck.

years later i played the game again. i hesitated at first but passed the same level in my first try. mind you i didn't become pro gamer or anything in all these years. it was just my brain wiring in the background, collecting data to find out what to do exactly but i've never realized this until i have to do it again.

if you ever said "i have never been able to do this throughout my life" for anything wait for a second and admit this is just a mental block you put between you and your desire. when you are wiring your brain, you don't realize it's happening, looks like nothing is changing or only little changes happening. because you don't see what's happening in background. it actually becomes easier but we don't care because if it's easier we are too focused on moving forward and achieving the desire.

then a random day it feels natural being able to do that. almost like you were born with this.

i've said this in my previous post, shifting isn't a skill/talent/sth related to luck or genetics. if you still think shifting is just one big change happens rarely and miraculously, please try to change that.

because shifting is just like water. it can be a drop or big ass ocean(depending on the changes in the realities). just because you've never seen an ocean, it doesn't mean you can't look at rain and say guess there has to be more.

you won't wire your brain to shift but to control it. if you aren't new to shifting, at least couple months passed since you've started your journey, your wiring has already started.

how wiring works for shifting?

i'll call this wiring path. you either stick to one thing you like or feel comfortable with, even a little interest is more than enough. or find an existing wiring path. the times you felt close to shifting for example. maybe a little voice keeps telling you this is your method. you probably have more than one wiring paths for shifting, but they are like unfinished projects. one of them must be more prominent, like at least 50% finished project.

after you've decided on your wiring path, it's not any different from achieving anything. you are not a monk, you won't be spending eternity if you are actively learning. do you know those clicking moments? you can meditate for thirty hours straight but a feeling or realization in one of your attempts takes wiring process further. and i gotta admit, maybe you needed those thirty hours meditation to realize this. that's what i love about wiring. nothing goes is in vain.

everything you do takes your wiring further.

if it feels like literally nothing is changing, you either work on more than one wiring paths or the process slowed down.

when you are not aware of this wiring, it's like pushing all the buttons and hope for best. that's what they mean by lock in. because trying everything at the same time or having backup methods is working on more than one wiring paths.

it's like learning ten languages at the same time but you are barely a1 in all of them.

like i said you have more than one wiring paths and they are unfinished projects, they all have potential. don't give them powers thinking one of them is better than the other. you make them work better with yourself. you have power to choose.

wiring from loa perspective

before loa folks come and say "so what you are saying is, you have to actually do sth to shift? stop planting assumptions in people's minds! i don't have to do anything to shift!"

baby, i'm gonna hold your hand while saying this, you assumption is also a work. you assumed you don't need 46 step method to shift or you have already shifted, right? good, i'm happy for you but see that's also a work. you still do something. you wire your brain this is how you'll control shifting. seriously, what do you consider as "work"? i'm not telling you to do 30 push-ups everyday. (i'm not being sarcastic btw, i love loa. but some of y'all doesn't like to see anything out of assumption-core. this isn't progressive and if my opinions are shaking the foundation of your assumption, sorry but maybe it's not much of an assumption because it shouldn't matter even the whole world is against you when it comes to loa -sandor goddard). whatever get on the ship loa gang, we are sailing

why "tried it all" shifters couldn't complete their wiring process then?

so i remember a person in my dm saying "i've tried a particular method for long period of time. i've tried it all and gave time."

i picture a student when i see "tried it all" shifters. this student thinks if they study math and score high marks in exams they'll be a perfect student. so they start working hard, ignoring the fact they hate math or find it hard to understand.

maybe they're interested in sports or literature but this student is obsessed with having perfect student image. they are not actively wiring, they are bargaining which only slows down and takes extra effort even to reach a milestone. they'll still have hard time to wire their brain even in subjects they do like. they study for 9 hours straight but the friend of them sniffs the textbook and scores higher.

then we have to let go of desire? it depends, i think there are two kinds of desire: first, a desire that helps you, reminds you of what you want to have and the second, desire that reminds you, what's lack. if your desire feels like a liability or its leeching you it's the second one. atp what your desire is unimportant. it's about how you see this unaccomplished desire.

plus if you are actively wiring your brain, you won't even have time to think about this desire obsessively. because you are too focused on what to do, desire is just a fuel and collectively helping you.

so people whose shifted in first attempt didn't wire any shit?

when you bumped into a "i shifted in my first attempt" person next rime, know that they are not shifting gods or prophets. they just figured out in instant what makes their brain easier to wire for controlling shifts. let's be fr some people are gifted with focusing or visualizing. they have useful existing wiring paths for shifting. plus i want to remind you something:

don't underestimate the power of a blank page. neutrality has higher frequency than courage, do you know why? because you don't have any fears or worries, when you are neutral you don't need a reason be courageous. i know if i erease your shifting attempts from your memory right now, you'd be shifting in your "first" attempt either. because most of the time you deal with your fears and worries instead of actively wiring.

how to actively wire?

people are trembling, throwing up and procrastinating when it comes to "attempt". i don't even want to call it attempt because you are actively learning. and no it's not "dw we learn from every attempt 🌺🌻✨" kinda motivation, it's literally how your brain is getting wired.

let's assume you find your wiring path, it's more prominent than other paths you have. for example its raven method + visualizing and falling asleep. you felt close to shifting with this method before. be aware of your every attempt and observe closely because by the time you'll get better at each part of your method. active wiring is not doing the same thing everyday robotically.

maybe normally you count to 100 but one day you feel you are already focused when you reached 40. or your focusing skills improved so much, you need to discard counting part, because you already wired that part in your brain. or you were visualizing yourself in your dr bed but suddenly you felt like you want to visualize one of your dr memories. your brain will be more invested in something they find interested. in previous student example i gave you, bargaining person misses these moments, they stubbornly do the same thing and rarely progress.

don't be scared of working on your wiring path. if you feel like you are waiting or pending, your wiring only slowed down. it doesn't always mean you need to do something, maybe you need to observe what you are doing and make simple changes. even if it means taking a break.

active wiring is not waiting for the day you'll achieve it. when you are learning a new skill you do your thing and expect it to be successful every single time even if it's your first time. you can almost see yourself achieving it. this expectation doesn't come from bargaining tho, it's your desire, the healthy kind.

in next posts i'll be sharing my way to wire my brain to control shifting and the terms i came up with. this is how i observed and decided to use wiring for myself. please take care and don't consume everything you read if it feels wrong or doesn't sit with you, or you don't even want to accept it true. spit it out. same for this post.

[wrongbodies]

A Wanted Exchange

When I first met Oren I would never have thought where I'd end up with this beautiful twink. We ran into each other at a club, a loud and hectic joint that had many sweaty, dancing bodies pressed up against one another in pinkish lights. I was there, carving out a space with my broad shoulders and muscular frame.

And there was Oren. He wasn't intimidated by me. He was bold, swooping right into my space, and then he was upon me. Grinding against me, I could feel his lithe body almost flowing around me like water. But there was an aggression there, almost like he wanted to throw his weight around, boss and bully me. All 120 pounds of his tiny body.

I was intoxicated right then and there. I wanted him. At first I thought it was just in the typical carnal fashion. But I realize now it was so much more.

I took him home of course. We tangled togther far longer than expected. He tried to push and pull me in ways his body and tiny muscles just could not handle. I was gentle. I have always been something of a gentle giant.

Growing up my father was a harsh one, and forced me to play football from 7, and all throughout the rest of my school career. Even in college, it was verboten that I quit. I remember coming out, well after finishing my degree mind you, and how he coiled back in disgust. I was his manly son, his juggernaut of an athlete. But inside I always wanted something else.

Which brings me back to Oren. Our hookup was not the end of our interaction. He found my gentle nature endearing, as I in turn found his domineering ways attractive. I so desperately wanted to submit to him, but our physical dynamic was just too skewed. I couldn't help but toss him around if I wasn't careful. And he hated being on the bottom, or receiving.

After weeks of trying, we realized we weren't truly happy. And in the breakdown of our disappointment, we both admitted what we wanted. He lamented his tiny, perfectly lithe body. I too bemoaned my broad, powerful body. It wasn't to say we weren't proud of ourselves, both being healthy young men. Rather, it was a sort of melancholy about not being able to experience what the other had, and admittedly - we were so envious of.

And so, when the advertisements for a scientific study came out, asking for willing subjects to try a new technology... we jumped at it. It seemed like something from a science fiction novel, but the way the doctors explained it we were properly convinced it was real.

They asked us many questions about our health, our relationship, and then what we wanted. Over the weeks we were subjected to different tests, they asked us the question we both were secretly hoping they'd put forward.

"What if this is permanent?" The nasal-voiced doctor had asked. I was alone, Oren being interviewed in a different room. I'd learn later he responded much the same as I had. But when I responded, it was an enthusiastic confirmation - that would be perfectly fine.

The day of the procedure came, and we were inserted into coffin like tubes, our heads covered in wires and such that looked like what one might use for a brain scan. I suppose that was part of the procedure, anyways. After the all clear was given, it took moments for me to black out. And in that time we were out, it was nothingness... a void.

But when I awoke, everything was ALIVE. I knew what to expect, understanding that I'd be groggy from the anesthetic. However, I pushed through the fog in my excitement. I needed to feel it all. Even before they opened the tube, I was feeling my arms, my chest, and then my face. Nothing prepares you for the sensations. There is no earthly equivalent to it... awakening in another persons body.

What followed was euphoric. Despite the initial hiccups, like learning that your brain still thinks you have limbs longer than this new body, or forgetting you are significantly lighter and weaker. Limitations that I never had before were daunting, at first. But then I came to love them. I was finally free to be the person I always felt inside. A man with a body more aptly described as pretty, and not rugged. With fingers soft and supple, unblemished by years of tackling and tossing a ball.

Oren felt the same, in reverse. We were hesitant at first to resume our relationship. It wasn't right away that we tried anything, sexually. But the first interactions were indicative of our blossoming romance. He would take my new, delicate face in his - my former - rough hands. Guiding my lips to his, where he almost hungrily kissed me. His bear hugs engulfed me, at times sweeping me off my feet. I was the willing waif, powerless to stop it, but desperately wanting it.

When we did finally return to the bed, entangled in one anothers embrace, there was a sort of epiphany. The realization that we got exactly what we wanted, and that looking back - albeit not much of an issue before - was perished. We did not need to even question it - I NEEDED to be Oren. And he needed to be me.

As for all the other details, since we began dating, we assimilated into one anothers lives. Our families and friends were never made aware of what transpired in that experiment. And save a few follow up interviews and information gathering sessions, the deal was sealed. Oren and I were never happier with our lives than now, when in truth... we weren't living our lives, but one anothers. How freeing it was for us to become the thing we always wanted. And through that, to find love. It was strange to kiss my former face, but knowing it was Oren behind those eyes, and happier for it, made it all too easy to love him.

I'm never going back.

[28harryssunflower]

The call that changed everything

The first time you met Harry Styles, you knew you hated him.

It wasn’t just the fact that he was Harry Styles - world-famous singer, certified heartthrob, and, unfortunately, your sister’s best friend’s little brother. It wasn’t even because of his celebrity status. No, it was something much simpler.

It was him.

The cocky, self-assured way he sat in his chair when you walked in, completely at ease like he owned the place. The way his green eyes flicked up and down as he took you in, his lips curling into a knowing smirk. The way he didn’t even bother standing up to introduce himself, instead raising an eyebrow as if he had already decided you weren’t worth the effort.

“So this is the one you were raving about, Gem?” he drawled, barely sparing you a glance as he took a sip of his drink.

You folded your arms, unimpressed. “And this is Harry Styles? Thought you’d be taller.”

Gemma snorted, but Harry? His smirk only deepened.

“Feisty. That’s cute.”

Your teeth clenched. “Don’t talk to me like I’m a pet, Styles.”

He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees, amusement flashing in his eyes. “Oh, don’t worry, love. Even pets are less annoying than you.”

And just like that, the war began.

From that day forward, it was a battle every single time you were in the same room.

Harry made it his mission to get under your skin, and unfortunately, he was really fucking good at it.

“Y’know,” he mused one night, watching you struggle to open a bottle, “if you asked nicely, I might help you.”

You scoffed, gripping the cap tighter. “I’d rather drink air.”

“Suit yourself, love.”

Or the time he deliberately sat next to you at a group dinner, leaning in way too close as he murmured, “Noticed you’ve been wearing a lot of black lately. Mourning the loss of your personality?”

You turned to him with a fake smile. “Noticed you’ve been wearing a lot of rings lately. Compensating for something?”

Gemma groaned. “Would you two just make out and get it over with?”

“I’d rather choke,” you said at the same time Harry muttered, “Over my dead body.”

It never got better. Only worse.

Every conversation turned into a verbal sparring match, a game of who could get the last word. Sometimes, fate was cruel, and you’d find yourself stuck together, forced to tolerate each other’s existence.

And then, one night, everything changed.

You weren’t sure why you called him.

Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was the weed still lingering in your system. Maybe it was the way your room felt suffocatingly empty after the things your ex had said to you.

“You’re just… not pretty enough.”

“Maybe if you lost some weight, you’d be more my type.”

“You should wear makeup more often. Might help.”

The words echoed in your mind, looping over and over, each syllable digging into your skin like barbed wire. Your vision was blurry, a mix of tears and intoxication, and before you could think about what you were doing, your fingers were already dialing.

The call barely rang twice before he picked up.

“What do you want?” Harry’s voice was laced with its usual arrogance, like he was already preparing to throw some smug comment your way.

But when you sniffled, a quiet, pathetic sound, he paused. “Wait… Are you crying?”

You let out a broken laugh. “No shit, Sherlock.”

There was a brief silence. Then, his voice softened - just a fraction. “What happened?”

And, for some reason, you told him.

Through drunken slurs and quiet sobs, you spilled everything - how you caught your boyfriend cheating, how he humiliated you before you left, how you felt so fucking stupid for believing you were enough.

When you finished, all you heard was silence.

Click.

He hung up.

You let out a shaky laugh, dropping the phone onto the floor beside you. Of course. What did you expect? Comfort from Harry fucking Styles?

But then: A knock on your window.

Your hazy brain struggled to process it as you pushed yourself up, stumbling toward the sound. And when you pulled back the curtain, your breath hitched.

Harry stood outside, hands in his pockets, his expression unreadable.

You hesitated before fumbling with the lock, struggling to slide the window open. After a few failed attempts, he sighed and did it himself, slipping into your room with ease.

“Why are you here?” you whispered, still dazed.

He rolled his eyes. “Because you called me, dumbass.”

You expected irritation in his tone. Expected him to mock you, to make some smartass remark. But instead, he just crossed his arms and looked at you properly.

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Come here.”

You didn’t move, too stunned to understand what was happening. But then he stepped forward, pulling you into his arms, and you.. you broke.

You buried your face into his shoulder, gripping onto his shirt like a lifeline as the tears came harder, raw and unfiltered. He didn’t pull away. Didn’t tease. Just let you cry until exhaustion took over.

You woke up with a pounding headache and the unmistakable warmth of someone beside you.

Your mind scrambled to catch up, still foggy from the night before. But before you could process anything, nausea hit you like a truck. You bolted upright, gagging.

And before you could even make it off the bed, a bucket was shoved in front of you.

A hand pulled your hair back as you emptied your stomach, shaky breaths filling the room. When you finally finished, exhausted and miserable, a glass of water was pressed into your hand.

You blinked up, still dazed.

Harry. Sitting on your bed. Watching you.

You stared. He stared back.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” you croaked.

He sighed. “You called me.”

Memories came rushing back all at once, and your face burned. “Shit. I- I’m sorry.”

He shrugged. “Don’t be. Just… eat something today, alright?”

Then he left, just like that.

You thought that would be the end of it.

But then…

Harry: Have you eaten?

Harry: Drank any water?

Harry: Don’t make me come over again.

You didn’t know why he was checking in on you. But you didn’t hate it.

You were almost ready to leave.

Your outfit was picked with careful precision - something a little more modest than what you used to wear to parties. Something that hid the things your ex had made you feel insecure about. Your makeup was heavier than usual, too. Dark eyeliner, extra foundation, lips painted in a shade bolder than you usually dared to wear. A mask, in a way.

You were just slipping on your shoes when there was a knock on your bedroom door.

“Coming!” you called, expecting your sister. You pulled the door open, and froze.

Harry stood in your doorway, arms crossed over his chest, brows slightly furrowed as he took you in.

Your stomach twisted.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, voice sharper than necessary.

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, his eyes flicked over your face again before he stepped inside and closed the door behind him.

“Harry-“

“Sit,” he said, gesturing to the edge of your bed.

You frowned. “Excuse me?”

“Just sit down.”

His tone wasn’t teasing or condescending. It was… something else. Something you couldn’t quite place. Against your better judgment, you did as he said, watching as he moved toward your dresser.

He grabbed a makeup wipe.

You stiffened.

“What are you doing?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he stepped in front of you, tilting your chin up with gentle fingers before carefully swiping the wipe across your cheek.

You flinched. “Harry, stop-“

“Shh.”

You glared. “Did you just shush me?”

“I did. Deal with it.”

You huffed but didn’t pull away as he continued. His movements were slow, almost cautious, as he wiped away all of the makeup, revealing the bare skin underneath.

When he was done, he took a step back, looking at you properly.

You felt… exposed.

“There she is,” he murmured, more to himself than to you.

You swallowed hard. “Harry, I-“

“You don’t need this,” he said, holding up the makeup wipe. His voice was softer than you had ever heard it. “You never did.”

You looked down, fingers twisting in your lap. “You don’t get it.”

“I do.”

Your head snapped up.

His expression was unreadable, but his voice was steady. “That asshole made you feel like you weren’t enough. That you had to change yourself to be what he wanted.” He exhaled sharply. “But he’s fucking wrong.”

You didn’t know what to say. So he kept going.

“You don’t need makeup to be beautiful. You don’t need to hide yourself. And you sure as hell don’t need some dickhead’s approval.”

Your throat tightened.

“And another thing,” He reached for the oversized hoodie you were wearing. “Why are you dressed like this? Where’s the confident girl who didn’t give a shit what anyone thought?”

Your fingers clenched around the fabric. “I just…” You hesitated. “I don’t feel comfortable wearing the stuff I used to. He made me feel like I shouldn’t.”

Harry’s jaw ticked. “That’s bullshit.”

You didn’t respond.

With a determined look, he turned toward your closet, rummaging through the hangers before pulling out a red crop top and a white skirt. He held them up with a nod. “Wear this.”

Your stomach twisted. “Harry, I-“

“Just trust me, okay?”

You hesitated.

Harry. Harry fucking Styles. The same guy who spent months making your life hell. The same guy who seemed to take pleasure in pissing you off. But… also same guy who showed up at your window in the middle of the night when you needed someone the most.

Something in his expression made your resistance crumble.

“Fine,” you muttered, snatching the clothes from his hands. “Turn around.”

To your surprise, he obeyed, covering his eyes dramatically as you changed. When you were done, you swallowed your nerves and turned toward the mirror.

Your stomach churned as your eyes flicked over your reflection.

It was… different.

You weren’t used to seeing this version of yourself anymore. The one who didn’t hide. The one who didn’t feel the need to shrink herself down.

You shifted uncomfortably, fingers brushing over your exposed stomach.

Harry’s voice broke through your thoughts.

“You look perfect.”

You turned, lips parting slightly.

His eyes met yours in the mirror, his expression uncharacteristically serious. “You don’t need to worry. You’re beautiful.”

Your throat tightened.

It was one thing to hear compliments from random people. It was another to hear them from Harry.

You didn’t know why, but you needed to hear that.

And he must have known. Because for once, there was no teasing. No smugness. Just sincerity.

You swallowed thickly. “Thanks, Harry.”

He nodded.

A beat of silence passed before he clapped his hands together. “Alright. I’ll leave you to it, then.”

You frowned. “Wait- where are you going?”

He smirked, back to his usual self. “You’ve got a party to get to, yeah?”

For some reason, the idea of him leaving didn’t sit right with you.

Before you could overthink it, the words slipped out. “Do you… wanna come?”

His brows shot up.

You quickly backpedaled. “I mean, it’s probably not your scene, but-“

“Sure,” he said, cutting you off.

You blinked. “What?”

He chuckled. “I’ll come.”

For some reason, that made you nervous.

But maybe, just maybe, this was the start of something new. Something different.

Maybe… you and Harry weren’t enemies anymore.

The house was packed, music pulsing so loud you could feel it in your chest. Bodies swayed to the rhythm, laughter and conversation blending into the intoxicating energy of the party.

And somehow, Harry was still by your side.

You had been drinking - maybe a little too much. A few shots in, and the world had taken on that warm, hazy glow, everything slightly funnier, slightly easier. Harry was drinking, too, but not as much as you. You could tell by the way his gaze stayed sharp even as he leaned against the counter, whiskey in hand, watching you with mild amusement.

“Y’alright there, love?” he asked, smirking as you set down your empty shot glass a little too hard.

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t call me that.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t like it when you say it.”

“That so?” His grin widened. “Think you secretly do.”

You huffed, opening your mouth to argue, but before you could, someone called out:

“Truth, dare, or shot?”

The group had gathered in the living room, bottles scattered around, everyone already giggling as dares and drunken confessions were tossed into the mix.

You didn’t hesitate. “I’m in!”

You plopped down onto the floor, Harry following with an amused shake of his head. He sat beside you, stretching his long legs out, his knee brushing yours. You ignored the way your skin tingled at the contact.

The game started off lighthearted. Someone had to text their ex something embarrassing. Another had to take a shot off someone’s stomach. A guy ended up running around the house in nothing but his socks.

And then it was your turn.

One of your friends smirked, eyes flicking between you and Harry. “I dare you to make out with… Styles.”

The room erupted in oohs and laughter.

Your heart lurched - whether in excitement or horror, you weren’t sure.

Harry turned to you, eyebrow raised, lips curling into that infuriating smirk. “Well?”

Your face burned.

You could do it. It wouldn’t mean anything. Just a stupid game. Just lips and pressure and-

Nope.

Before you could talk yourself into it, you reached for the nearest bottle and poured yourself a shot, throwing it back without hesitation. The group booed in disappointment, but you ignored them, setting the glass down with a satisfied smirk.

Harry chuckled beside you, shaking his head. “Didn’t know you were scared of me, love.”

You shot him a glare. “I just didn’t want to waste my energy on you.”

“Sure.”

Somehow, the night ended with Harry in your room.

You weren’t sure how it happened. The walk home was a blur of drunken giggles and playful shoves. One minute, you were stumbling inside, and the next, he was leaning against your dresser, watching you with an unreadable expression.

“So,” he said, crossing his arms. “Why’d you take the shot?”

You blinked, swaying slightly before plopping down onto your bed. “What?”

“Earlier. The dare. Why’d you take the shot instead of kissing me?”

You giggled, drunk and lightheaded. “Because we’re supposed to hate each other.”

Harry’s lips twitched. “Supposed to, yeah.”

You nodded dramatically. “It would’ve ruined our whole dynamic.”

“Oh, of course.”

“Exactly.”

There was a pause.

Then, before you knew what was happening, he was closer. His presence loomed over you, his gaze flicking down to your lips, his expression still unreadable.

You didn’t know who moved first.

One second, you were staring at him. The next, his lips were on yours, and your breath hitched at the warmth of his mouth, the way he tasted like whiskey and something undeniably Harry.

The kiss was slow at first, testing, as if neither of you could believe it was actually happening. But then your fingers found the collar of his shirt, tugging him closer, and suddenly, it wasn’t slow at all.

It was heat and urgency and something dangerously addicting. His hands skimmed your waist, his fingers teasing against the exposed skin beneath your crop top. You gasped into his mouth, and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue brushing against yours in a way that made your whole body shiver.

Somehow, you ended up tangled together on the bed, laughter and whispered insults breaking between heated kisses. It was messy, chaotic, but fun. Neither of you knew what the hell you were doing, but you didn’t care.

You were definitely supposed to hate each other.

So why did this feel so right?

You woke up with a dull headache, your body sore in the way that only came from a night of drinking - and other things.

For a moment, you didn’t move, your brain still foggy with sleep.

And then you noticed it. The warmth beside you.

Your eyes snapped open, and your breath caught when you saw him.

Harry.

Lying beside you, his bare chest rising and falling steadily, his face relaxed in sleep. His curls were a mess, his arm draped lazily across your waist like it belonged there.

Your stomach twisted. Oh shit.

You shifted slightly, and that’s when reality hit you.

Harry had seen you like this. Just like your ex had. And your ex…

“You’re just not pretty enough.”

“Maybe if you lost some weight-“

“You should wear makeup more often”

The memories slammed into you like a freight train, panic rising in your chest.

You needed to get up. Needed to cover yourself, hide, before Harry woke up and realized that-

“Stop.”

The word was groggy, but firm. You froze.

Harry shifted beside you, cracking one eye open, his morning voice thick and raspy. “I know what you’re thinking, and you need to stop.”

You swallowed. “I-“

“Don’t.” His hand moved to your waist, fingers tracing absent patterns against your skin. “I already know what you’re gonna say, and it’s bullshit.”

Your throat tightened. “You don’t-“

His lips cut you off before you could finish.

Soft. Slow. Reassuring.

When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re perfect. Just like this. Always have been.”

Your chest ached, but this time, it wasn’t from insecurity. It was something else entirely.

You didn’t have the words to respond.

So you just kissed him again.

[b3ach-bunn7]

I THINK YOU WERE IN MY PROFILE PICTURE ONCE PT 2

After the party, Touya can’t stop thinking about you.

Fluff, sfw, no quirk au

—————————————————————————

It’s been six days and Touya can’t stop thinking about you.

He had been right about the party. The end of it at least. He’d shaken you awake and you rushed off to find your friend, a smile and wave goodbye all he had to remember you by. You were late, apparently, too late to stop and give him anything to remember you by. He’d gone home soon after, slipping out before Hawks could berate him for leaving too early.

While Touya had settled for less, had made peace with the fact that you were to be another girl he’d spoken too at a party, he hadn’t been able to get you out of your head. For whatever reason he didn’t want you to just be another girl at a party he’d never speak to again. Touya wanted to see you again and he had no idea how.

What makes the situation ten times worse is he didn’t even get your name. He’s racked his brain for the past couple days and he had come to the embarrassing conclusion that not only did he not get your number, but he was also stupid enough not to ask you what you're called. Maybe if Touya had managed that, he could find your socials. A friend in your course could find your number. Or he could convince Fuyumi to do her weird girly stalk thing and find your mother’s Facebook. But alas, he could do none of that. 

Touya yawns. He scratches at the stubble that’s been growing on his face the past few mornings. It’s a rare day when the weather is warm enough in November for him to wear a short-sleeve, and he abuses the chance while he can. It’s shifts like this, where the shop is empty apart from a few dawdling customers he knows aren’t here to get anything done, that everything drags on.

Touya had (un)subtly hinted at his friend's tattoo and piercing shop because he works there, and it’d be an ample opportunity for him to see you again. Of course, in the past six days he hadn’t seen your face, but that was neither here nor there. It was a nice joint. It looks like any other tattoo shop, designs hung up on the walls, one side of the shop filled with shelves of piercings and jewellery. One side was reserved for tattooing and the other for piercing. Touya works in both parts of the shop, wherever he’s needed most. He has plenty of piercings to prove it but he’s never gotten any tattoos. His skin is marred enough as is. 

The pay was good, and the hours weren’t long. Touya gets on annoyingly well with his coworkers, too. They’re all his age apart from Toga, who, funnily enough, is the same age as Shoto. That’s where all their similarities end, though. She’s loud and full of annoyingly eager energy that he’s grown fond of, unfortunately. The only thing his job is missing in a pretty girl with shitty wired headphones

Touya drums his fingers against the counter. The day has been slow and his fingers itch to do something. Touya thinks, in another life, he might’ve been an artist. Touya loved drawing and painting and all forms of it, but even his mother wouldn’t let him choose it for university. And she never said no to him. Psychology was a second best, another interest he’d dug up from his ass when he realised he actually was going to make it past fifteen.

A job like this, where some shifts Touya can just sit and draw and design things for people, It’s his dream. Maybe he’ll open up a therapist agency next door so he can keep working here part-time.

Touya decides drawing is what he’ll do. He’s got a couple clients expecting things from him. He grabs a scrap of paper from under the desk. The first biro he finds is pink, and he lets spirals and flowers and whatever designs pop up in his head spread across the page. 

“Hey, it’s you!”

Touya thinks that maybe he might have fallen asleep and started dreaming when he hears your voice. But then he looks up, and there you are, grinning like Christmas has come early. You’re wearing a black coat and a scarf, thick and long enough he’s sure you can use it as a blanket. Your jeans are embroidered, colourful flowers leaving a trail down your thighs, and when Touya’s eyes flick back up to your face your cheeks are dusted red from the cold.

“Why the hell are you wearing a short sleeve shirt? Are you mad? It’s freezing out.” You huff, unwrapping the scarf from around your neck.

Touya just watches you. The logical part of his brain tells him that he should probably say something, but instead he just watches as you shrug your coat off. You’re wearing a shirt with what he thinks might be an album cover. Its red and green and yellow, splatters of watercolour, not something he recognises. Touya hopes you’ll play it for him. You finally look up at him, stuffing your earbuds in your pockets.

“You’re awfully quiet today.” You smile.

You lean against the counter, mimicking his position. The two of you are just a little too close for any average customer and cashier interaction, but he doesn’t care, and he is pretty sure you don’t either.

“Just shocked. Didn’t think you’d take me up on the piercing offer.” Touya says.

“Well. I was promised someone called Shiggy, not my nap partner.” Touya snorts at your words and you smile slightly.

Touya gestures around the shop. You follow his hands, looking around the empty store, before landing back on him.

“We’re empty. Only one working right now is me.”

“Well. That doesn’t sound up to code.”

Touya shrugs. “We’re always quiet at this time. My boss is in the back and my coworker is on the way. I’m the best guy here for the job.”

You hum under your breath, nodding. You bite at your thumbnail. Touya tilts his head slightly, and you smile at him nervously. 

“You doing alright?” He asks.

“Yes. Well. No. I’m scared.”

“What are you looking to get done today?” Touya walks round the counter, leaning one hip on it and crossing his arms. Your eyes dart very briefly to his biceps and he is suddenly very thankful he wore a short sleeve today, and that he’d gone to the gym yesterday.

“A piercing.”

“Which one?”

“I’m thinking nipples?”

Touya stammers. He can feel his ears redden and you last all of five seconds with a straight face before you burst out laughing.

“It’s a joke! I’m joking!” You cackle, hands up in the air. “The look on your face!”

Touya rolls his eyes as you wipe tears from under your own, turning his head so you don’t see the flush on his face. “Ha Ha. Very funny.”

“I know, I’m hilarious. What I actually want is a nose piercing.” You tap the side of your nose and Touya nods.

“Okay, cool. That’ll be twenty, including a stud.” 

He reaches under the counter and grabs a consent form. He passes you a pen and gestures you over.

“Here, sign this. Just a safety thing.”

He watches as you scribble your name at the bottom. It’s pretty. Suits you. You bite at your bottom lip and he smiles slightly. You’re not saying anything, but the nerves sit clearly on your face.

“You’ll be fine. It doesn’t hurt that bad.” He reassures.

You glance up at him and worry darts across your face. “You mean it?” You ask, passing back the form. 

Touya starts walking further into the shop and you follow next to him. “Yes, I’m sure. You can hold my hand if you’re really that scared.” He teases.

“Shut up. I might have to. I feel like I’m going to pass out.” You huff.

Touya lets the two of you into a room. You sit down on the chair in the middle of it, and Touya starts grabbing all the things he needs. The disinfectant, a mirror, the needle. You’re too quiet, and when he glances behind him you’re staring at him.

He shakes the disinfectant in the air. “Enjoying the show?”

“Shut up.” 

He brings all the stuff to the small table next to you. Touya puts his hands on his hips and you look up at him.

“What?”

“You still look like you’re about to shit yourself.”

You shove him away. “Shut up. Again. Just get it over with.” 

Touya laughs. “Okay, okay. So. I’m going to use a pen to mark where I’m going to do it. Then I’ll grab the needle and you take a big breath in. And when you breathe out I pierce you and it’s done.” 

He puts on a pair of black gloves as he speaks. He acts like he doesn’t see your eyes following his movements, the lithe movements of his fingers. 

You look back up at his face. “Okay. That doesn’t sound too bad.”

Touya nods. “It’s not. Now you want it on the left or right?” He passes you a mirror and you look through it.

“What do you think will look good?” 

“I think you’ll look pretty with both.”

“Aw. You think I’m pretty?” You bat your eyelashes at him.

“Pretty good. Is what I meant to say. Maybe ugly even.”

You giggle and he grabs the mirror out of your hand. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll do the right side.”

Touya nods. His hand comes up and turns your face to the side, fingers grazing your jaw. The touch is fleeting but it makes him nervous. Like he’s thirteen with a crush on his babysitter. He clears his throat, desperate to distract from how close the two of you are right now.

“So. What made you change your mind about getting something done?”

“Well. I kept thinking about you.” 

It’s Touya’s turn to raise an eyebrow and watch your face redden under his gaze.

“Aw. You were thinking about me?”

You smile cheekily. “Of course! That was the best thirty minute nap I’ve had in my life. I’ve been chasing that high ever since.”

Touya scoffs slightly. His hand finds your jaw again, lifting up your face. You words stutter slightly as he does so. The room settles into soft silence and he reaches forward and dots your nose with his marker. He leans back slightly and you’re close, close enough that he can see the fluffiness of your eyelashes, the blemishes on your skin. You smell so good, something sweet and girly and he breathes it in, scared he’ll forget. Your eyes are trailing over his face, just like how Touya’s doing to you. 

Touya steps back. He needs to be professional. He needs to calm down before he throws himself on you. 

“That's all I am to you? A shoulder to nap on?” He pouts and you laugh.

“Something like that. I also realised I never got your number. Or your socials. Or even your name.” You say.

Touya grabs the needle, sanitising it quickly and tossing the wet wipe away. “I also realised that. I'm Touya, by the way.” 

You say your name back and he nods. “Pretty.”

“You can’t flirt with your customers, Touya. Very unprofessional.”

His name sounds so soft on your tongue, and he wants you to say it again, never stop saying it.

“Who said I’m flirting?”

“You call all your customers pretty?” “Only the ones who can’t stop thinking about me.” 

You roll your eyes. Touya is tall enough that when he drags over a stool and sits down he still towers over you a little. Your fingers grip the edge of the chair you’re sitting on. You eye the needle in his hands and he hides it behind his back.

“Don’t look. You’ll freak yourself out more.” He chides, and you huff.

“What, should I just keep my eyes shut the whole time?”

Touya shrugs. “If you want. I’ll talk you through it.” 

Your eyes widen slightly and Touya laughs nervously.

“Like- I’ll tell you what I’m doing. By talking. While I’m doing it. It- the piercing.” 

You smile teasingly and he taps your knee so you’ll close your eyes, before you see how flustered he looks. You comply quickly, and god you’re just so beautiful. You swing your legs slightly and it’s only when confusion teases at the edges of your eyebrows he realises he’s been staring at you like a freak for so long. In silence. 

Touya’s voice is low when he speaks again. “Alright. I need you to breathe in for me.”

Your chest rises as you breathe in quickly. “And I’ll countdown, and when I reach one you breathe out quickly and I pierce you. Easy, right?”

You nod. Your eyes are screwed shut and Touya thinks you feel the shiver that runs down his spine when you reach forward and grab his forearm. Right over his scars. You don’t seem to care though, fingers finding comfort in him despite the marred skin on his body. 

“Three. Two. One.” 

You breathe out loudly and the needle goes through. Your eyes water slightly and your grip on him tightens.

“Good girl, see? Wasn’t that bad.” He soothes, putting the stud in your nose. 

He places the needle onto the table and grabs the mirror. Your eyes are still shut tightly and you’re still holding onto him. Touya takes off his gloves and pats your hand.

“You can look now.” He says. 

You open your eyes and take the mirror from his hand. Your face lights up lightly and you let go of him to touch the piercing gingerly, and he misses the cooling touch of your fingertips immediately.

“Wow. It’s cute! And it didn’t even hurt that bad, either.”

“I told you.” 

You sigh happily. And then you look at Touya again. He feels nervous under your gaze, so intense and so focused on him.

“Thank you, Touya.”

“Its, uh. It’s no issue. It’s my job.”

The two of you talk as he leads you back to the counter, basic housekeeping for your new piercing,  but he can’t help but think about the fact you’re going to leave and he might not see you again for god knows how long. As nervous as you make him Touya is not going to pussy out twice.

“So. What are you doing in two hours?” He asks, leaning over the counter.

You pause from where you’re cocooning back into your puffer coat and scarf. You blink at him owlishly. 

“Me?”

“No, the other person standing in front of me.”

You narrow your eyes at him. You loop your scarf around your neck before looking back up at him.

“Nothing. What are you doing in two hours?”

“Taking you out, hopefully.” He says.

You laugh nervously, face heating, and god if you keep looking at him like that he’s going to get fired for doing indecent things to a customer.

“Alright, Touya. You want me to meet you back here?”

“Nah, I’ll come pick you up.” 

You nod, biting back a smile. “Well. In that case.”

You grab the pink biro Touya had forgotten on the counter. And then your hands, still cold compared to the heat that blooms against his skin, wrap around his wrist and drag him closer. You lean over slightly, writing you number across the small of his arm.

“God, you’re so warm.” You mumble, ending the long string of numbers with a poorly drawn heart.

“You’re hands are freezing.” He replies.

And before he really thinks he’s grabbing your hand in his own, and both of your hands could fit in one of his, and god he is a creep. You just smile though, squeezing once before letting go to grab your bag.

“Good think I’ve got you to warm them up for me.” You grin, waggling your fingers in the air.

Touya just nods. Your grin widens at his silence, and before he knows it you’re waving goodbye and he’s left wishing you’d come back.

—————————————————————————

HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE 🥳it took me a scarily long time to finish this 😭i had sooo much uni work I literally had no time but I’ve been (once again) in love with Touya so I had to finish this fic

This was heavily based on a post I saw from @tragikomizm of artstudent! Touya that I LOVED so deffo check out her stuff!

Anyways I hope u all enjoyed :P I really do love writing these and I will try and get more stuff out! Also if anyone has any good ao3 fic reccoemndation (happy endings plz) PLZ COMMENT I JEED SMTH TO READ!

[princessbrunette]

deer!reader gets the zoomies and pope's trying to calm her down? ♡

˙✧˖° 🐬🛼🎀 ⋆｡♡

“oh my god, please get into bed.” pope chuckles, watching you from where he lays, a hand resting behind his head. you were wired up, pacing the room at the foot of his bed in your pyjamas. he’d taken you on one of the infamous pogue missions today, getting into all kinds of drama. pope had been stressed, hating that you could get into any kind of trouble. he did the best he could to keep you safe, as did the other pogues — in mutual understanding that you were a sweetheart who was not to be corrupted.

you’d been quiet throughout everything, all wide eyed and curious even through the dangerous parts. pope couldn’t gage you, half expecting you to burst into tears from all the commotion of the day as soon as he got you back through the door — but to his total surprise you were off like a rocket, rambling excitedly and grinning ear to ear.

“it was like— it was like this one scene from my book! i’ve never felt adrenaline like that before pope it was just— wow! and — and the way jj punched that guy in the face! he’s insane! and the way kie told that guy to shutup, like woah!” you squeal, twirling about excitedly as your boyfriend shakes his head calmly, used to the pogues shenanigans.

“yep, they’re all crazy. what’s gonna get you over here, huh?” he smiles lazily and you pause breathlessly in your tracks.

“not sure. i just feel so excited right now, popey.” you smile honestly and he sits up at the edge of the bed, patting the space next to him. reluctantly, you skip over— sitting right up by his side, looking at him expectedly with those wide curious eyes.

“look, i’m gonna be honest— i was stressed today. the most important thing to me, is keeping you safe, aaaand — that? that was far from safe. i’m glad you had fun, but i can’t in good conscience let you tag along to anymore pogue missions. okay?” his forehead crinkles as he knits his brows, watching your face fall a little, pensive.

unsurprisingly, you do as your told with little resistance. “mm, okay. but can you tell me more about your adventures? i wanna know.”

“mhm.” he loops a strong arm round the back of your neck to draw you in for quick kiss, a silent testament to how adorable he thought you were in the moment. “but tomorrow. not while i’m trying to get you to calm down.” he smiles, to let you know he’s not scolding you.

“fair.” you smile and he tilts his head, staring at you whilst he thinks.

“at the risk of sounding gross and vulgar, i do know one thing that usually gets you to calm down pretty quickly.”

your back straightens a little, perking up the same way a deer would after hearing a leaf crunch in the distance. “what’s that?” you question energetically, and instead of answering you — pope brings you in for another slow kiss, gently laying you back on the bed.

“well, it involves me being knuckles deep inside you. can’t give you any more clues though, i’m afraid.”

just like that, your brains mush. if pope had his methods to calm you down, who were you to intervene with such brilliance?

˙✧˖° 🐬🛼🎀 ⋆｡♡

[dronebiscuitbat]

Oil is Thicker Then Blood (Part 102)

Welding while three days overdue in a pregnancy is hard Uzi realized.

The inside of the shuttle was warm enough that the wind and weather outside wasn't something to worry about, but the amount of strain the baby was putting on her internals was slowing her down heavily.

Even still… it was almost finished.

All that was left was the internals, the controls and the little bit of air they needed to cool their systems. And it would be ready.

And so right now she was putting in the cramped recharge pods that would be the bulk of the inside, small little upright beds that filled the function of a place to rest and…not much else.

When space is at a premium, it would have to do.

Khan was working on the airlock, big, steel hydrologic doors. His expertise. So they were nearly working side by side.

Uzi stretched upwards to reach the ceiling from the step ladder she was using,sealing up a messily managed cluster of wires within a tube of aluminum. And then doubled over in pain.

She made a wince and a squeak and held her expanded abdomen as a wave of pain shot through her.

Khan was on her in an instant, taking one of her hands in his own and helping her off the stepladder.

“Uzi! Are you alright? Is the baby-”

“N-no! No. Just uh… just them kicking me in the stomach. Ow…” She calmed him. “I almost wish…”

Khan still held her and made her sit in one of the incomplete charge pods, checking her over.

“I'm fine. Dad.” She almost laughed, but it turned into another wince as the baby proceeded to kick the shit out of her insides once more.

“Agh…”

“Maybe you should sit the rest of the construction out dronelette… you need rest.”

“What I need is to get this done. This was my plan and it needs to work and-” She struggles to get out of the pod, legs kicking our uselessly.

“And you have been every single day you have been able. It's just finishing touches, then we start packing what we can.”

Uzi crossed her arms in a huff.

“I don't wanna be useless.”

“No offense dronelette, but I think your body has more say about that then your mouth.” He smiles sheepishly, gesturing to the fact she couldn't even get out of a shallow pod by herself.

“Bite me.”

He laughed and helped her out of the pod, not letting go until both her feet were on the ground and she was steady on them.

“Where's N? Still on patrol?” He asks, hand still on her back.

“Yeah, he'll be out for awhile…”

“I gotcha.” He peered out the door, flagging down somebody.

“Nico! Can I borrow you for a minute?” He shouted, at the purple eyelighted door gaurd, who was deep in conversation with his partner.

“Aye sir!” He rushed over with a lopsided grin. Goggles bouncing on his head.

“Can you lead my daughter back to her apartment for me?” Khan asks, smiling happily at the young man.

“Dad! I can walk on my own!” Uzi protested, but it went in one ear and out the other.

“Sí Mr. Doorman.” Nico replied, getting into place at Uzi's side despite her indignant grumbles.

“Thank you, Varga.” Khan grinned, before heading back inside the ship. Nico and Uzi look at each other.

“After you senora?”

“I'm not that much older then you…” Uzi smirked, raising her eyebrow. And Nico just laughed.

“Hehe… I'm just being polite.” He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “You snapped at me for my manners once.”

“Huh?” Uzi wracked her brain. “Oh! Were you the same guy who was staring at Tera when she was a pillbaby?”

They began to walk, passing through the doors of the bunker.

“Guilty. Forgive me? Por favor? I was just surprised… you never struck me as someone who wanted kids, at least… at the time.” He grinned.

“I think I was just in a bad mood that day. I was getting lots of stares.” Uzi admitted, feeling a little self conscious.

“Lo siento, aren't you always in a bad mood?”

“Hey!” She snarled as they passed by several residential doors, before she deflated and smiled. “I guess you're not wrong.”

He laughed again. It sounded… familiar somehow.

“If dad's gonna have you tail me, I need to pick up my daughter from a freinds house before I head home.” She spoke, and at her words, his smile seemed to get a little pained.

“Of course. It's Tera right?” He asked, cocking his head. “How… is she?”

“Tera? You mean other then destroying everything soft she can get her fangs on? She's great, she's so energetic, she's a little hard to keep track of.”

He smiles, then looks confused. “Fangs?”

Uzi looks guilty, looking away from him.

“That's… my fault. My oil is… uh, effected by a condition…” She shows him a flash of her own fangs. “And I didn't realize it was contagious that way until it was too late.’

Nico furrows his brow, Uzi mistakes his concern for judgement. “It doesn't seem to effect her negatively! She's happy and healthy, it's just… she'll look different, is all.”

Nico nods once. “I wasn't judging.”

“So long as she is happy, I don't think anyone will judge. You took her in when… no one else wanted to, or could.”

“If no one has thanked you yet. Let me be the first.” He smiles, for once it seems to go up to his visor. “Gracias, Miss Doorman.”

“Uh… you're welcome?” She returns a confused smile as they stop in front of a door that reads “von Roth”.

Nico nods again before coughing and pulling out a little military canteen, taking a swig of it.

Uzi looks at him curiously.

“Ah, software issue… I go through coolant like my abuelo did battery acid! Hehe.”

Uzi nods, satisfied with his answer before knocking on the door with three quick raps.

A drone with light blue eyelights answers the door with a beaming smile. “Oh! Mrs Doorman! You're here to pick up Tera yes?” His accent is slightly Italian, and he smells slightly of fermented oil.

“That's right.”

“I'm Jason! Nice to meet ya!” He shakes her hand firmly. “My Flower’s getting her now. What a good kid you have, treats my daughter like a princess!”

“Uh, thank you Jason.” Uzi says awkwardly.

Delilah pops her head put under his arm, and he chuckles before moving out of the way for her.

“Hi Uzi! Here she is!”

Tera is handed to her… with a big fat purple bow tied up in her hair and forced into a little grey dress.

She looks defeated. Looking up at her mother with eyes that pray ‘please help me.’

“Oh God! What happened to you!?” Uzi smiled, incredibly amused at Tera's deadpan expression.

“Dress up.” Tera answers, as Delilah squeals.

“Look how adorable she looks! Though it was a lot of effort to get her in that dress…” She shows off the tiny scratches on her hands.

considering that Tera resisted being dressed in anything. The fact the Delilah was not in worse shape was astonishing.

“I'd say… Thank you for watching her.”

“Oh, no problem! She's a sweetheart, any time you need!” Delilah answers, before her husband pulls her into a little head nuzzle.

“Absolutely! Kiara needs more freinds like her!” He waves as Nico and Uzi move off, Tera crossing her arms in indignation.

“Not a fan of the dress chica?” Nico asks with an amused look.

“No.” Tera answers, shaking her head and pouting in her mother's arms. It's not until she does the toddler equivalent of a double take that she notices him and stares, cocking her head.

“Heh, Heya kiddo.” He smiles, face soft. Uzi raises a brow.

“Hi! Like you!” She says immediately, beginning to vibrate. “Name?”

“Ah. Nico.” He replies.

“Hi Nico!” She replies back, grinning visor seam to visor seam. Forgetting for a moment all about her distaste for the dress she was in.

But… too quickly, Uzi was at her door, and it was time to say goodbye.

“Thanks for walking with me. It was nice, even if my dad made you.”

“Don't mention it. You both take care, sí?” He cocked his head.

“Bye Nico!” Tera hollered, waving with all her might. And then; “Adiós!”

Uzi blinked. “Where did you learn-”

Nico was gone very, very quickly.

Who knew languages were inheritable?

Next ->

[ozwriterchick]

Back to Us - Chapter 9

Summary: Y/n wakes after an accident to her Avengers team-mates. But something isn't quite right and only Steve and Tony can see it.

Characters/Relationships: Steve Rogers x Reader; Tony Stark; Natasha Romanoff; Other Avengers Characters

Content warnings: Mentions of an accident (no details yet); If I missed any, let me know

A/N: If you want to be tagged, let me know.

Not beta'd so any mistakes are my own. I don't write smut, but there are allusions to smut in my stories.

Back to Us Masterlist

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Word count: 1822 (approx.)

GIF by dazedandkaitfused

A week later, you were in the lab with Tony & Bruce, ready to go again on the flashback program, albeit a bit unsure if it will give you any more results.

“I’m frustrated Bruce, these memories are coming in little bits, and they aren’t in any logical order either” you told him.  You felt like a whiney little bitch, because so many people had it worse off than you, but this was your life and if you weren’t going to get any more memories back, then you wanted to just move on and hopefully start making some new memories.

“It’s not an exact science Y/n” Bruce explained. “We have to be patient with it and try not to put too much pressure on your brain, it’s been through a lot.”

Bruce sets you up for another round of the flashback program.  Lying on the hospital bed, hooked up to all the wires and probes, you really hoped that today was the day you’d wake up with all, or most of your past back.

You see Steve walk into the lab just as you go under.

“How’s it going Bruce?” Steve asked, hopefully.

“She’s just gone under Steve, I’m hoping today is the breakthrough.  In fact, her seeing you as she went under may be a good thing, it might trigger her subconscious to remember those specific memories that include you and, by association, Noah.”

“Me too, I don’t know how much longer I can handle this if it doesn’t work.  Do you mind if I wait here for her to wake up?”

“Not at all Steve, pull up a chair and get comfortable.  Last week she was under for about 3 hours, so I’d expect this session to last about the same time.”

Steve grabs a chair and pulls it up beside the hospital bed you are in. Over the next few hours, he sits and watches, he gets up and paces the room, he finds a paper and pencil and doodles to pass the time.

“Is it normal for it to take this long?” Steve enquired of Bruce.

“Like I said, last time it was about 3 hours and she recovered a good chunk of memories.  I’m hoping that this is a good sign that there’s a big portion of memories coming back to her.

Suddenly, your body starts shaking as if you are having a seizure. Steve knew you didn’t have epilepsy or any other seizure like issues.

“Bruce, what’s happening?  Stop it now.  I’m serious Bruce, get her out of this trance or whatever it is she’s in.” Steve was panicking because there was nothing he could really do to help right now.

Bruce stops the program but you don’t wake up immediately.

“Bruce?” Steve asked quietly, worried that some permanent damage may have been done and that you’d never come back to him and Noah.

“Umm, I’m trying here Steve” he replies. “The program is finished, she’s just not waking up.  I’m double checking her vitals but everything seems stable, I’m just not sure why she won’t wake up?”

“Do something Bruce.” Steve shouts.

“I’m not sure what else to do Steve” he says. 

“Bruce this is your program, this is your knowledge.  This is on you to fix it.  We can’t lose her Bruce. Noah needs her and so do I.” Steve is so distraught he was almost crying.

For the next few hours, Bruce and Steve sat and paced and did everything they were doing when you were under earlier.  Tony came and went, monitoring your status and researching things that he and Bruce could do to help bring you out of the state you were currently in.

Steve was beside himself, he felt exactly as he did when you were in the hospital originally.  He hoped that this would have a different outcome in that you’d wake up with at least some of your memories.

All of a sudden you stirred.  The first person you see is Steve.

“Bruce, she’s awake.” Steve sighs with relief.  “Oh thank god you’re awake Y/n.  I was so worried we were going to lose you.”

You looked at Steve, sudden realisation in your eyes.  “Why didn’t you tell me?” you asked him.

“Tell you what Y/n?” Steve asked you, then it hit him.  He knew exactly what you were asking.  “You.. you remember?”

“Yes, I remember Steve” you responded.  “Why wouldn’t you just tell me that we were together?  If I’d known that I wouldn’t have gone off for weeks, or been such a bitch towards you for cheating when you clearly weren’t?”

“I wanted to tell you. I tried to tell you but you didn’t want me to explain anything, you said no explanation would change what had happened.  On top of that..”

“No on top of anything, Steve” you interrupted him, anger in your voice.  “I deserved to know the truth.”

Steve sighs, exasperated but understanding of your outrage.  “I tried, I really did” he reiterated quietly. “All I wanted was to hold you and have you know you were mine, but the doctor told us not to and every time I tried to explain you shut me down.  I just wanted to see you with Noah, he’s really missed you.”

“Steve, Who’s Noah?” you ask, confused.

Steve looks at Bruce, thinking, how can she remember me and not Noah?

Steve wonders how to answer that question.  “Umm, well…”

You get agitated with what seems to be more secrets that people won’t tell you “Just tell me goddamit!  I’m sick of things being kept secret.  I’m a big girl, I can handle whatever you’re going to tell me.

Steve looks at Bruce and shrugs.  He’s had enough of this pussyfooting around and not telling you important things.  Regardless of what the doctor had said, Steve thought maybe it was time for you to learn everything you were still missing and as he’s about to answer you, Tony walks in, interrupting everything.

“How’s it going?” he asks.

Bruce smiles at him “Well, she finally woke up.  And we had a breakthrough.”  He points at the bed where Steve is sitting on the edge of the bed, holding your hand and looking at you like you hung the moon in the sky just for him.

“She remembers?  Thank god.”

“Not everything” Bruce answers. “But she remembers him and their relationship. There’s only one thing left.”

“Noah?” Tony half asks, half states.

“Yeah, Noah.” Bruce answers sadly.

Bruce and Tony watch you and Steve, happy to see you back together, and positive you’ll remember Noah soon.

The next morning, you wake up in bed, snuggled into Steve’s chest.  You look up and see him awake.

The previous night, after Bruce had let you go, you and Steve had stayed up late, talking through a lot of things and working through everything that had happened and your reaction to it all.  You now accepted that it was partly your fault that he hadn’t told you the truth earlier, you’d been particularly bitchy towards him any time he'd tried so you can’t really blame him for giving up.  At least you know he kept trying, even when you shot him down, time after time.

Despite his determination last night, he hesitated every time he thought about telling you about Noah.  Mainly because of what it could mean for Noah if you took the news badly. 

“Morning Captain, how long have you been awake?” you asked.

“A while.” Came his answer.

“You know it’s creepy to watch someone sleep?” you laughed.  He didn’t so you asked “Hey, is everything ok?  Is this about Noah?”

Steve looks at you with surprise that you mentioned Noah.

“What do you remember about Noah?” Steve asked, hoping you were remembering him as well now.

You sigh. “Nothing, I don’t know who he is, but your reaction yesterday when you mentioned him and I didn’t know makes me feel like I should.”

“Well, I can tell you but it’s one of those big things the doctors said we shouldn’t just dump on you.  I don’t want to make things worse but oh god, I need to tell you.  It’s up to you.”

“Maybe we should talk to Tony and see what he thinks?”

“Sounds good, but I’m going to be selfish right now and say I don’t want to move, I am just enjoying being able to hold you again, and have you know that you’re my girl, not someone else that I’m cheating on.”

“Well, there’s something else you could be doing with your fiancé and we can talk to Tony later?”

Steve looks down at you and laughs.  The laughter fades and his eyes darken with desire.  He leans down to kiss you, shifting so you are on the bed and he is half on top of you.

“I love you Steve.  I’m glad I remember.  Please, I need you.”

“I love you too Y/n.  Always and forever.”

Some time later, Steve wakes up to an empty bed.  He panics for a moment then hears you singing in the bathroom, which brings a massive smile to his face. 

He goes into the bathroom, finding you soaking in a massive bubble bath, eyes closed, singing away.  He stands watching you for the longest time, you don’t seem to sense him standing there.

“Oh dear”  You exclaim, the water sloshing in the tub as Steve joins you.  You turn around so your back is against his chest and lean into him.  He wraps his arms around you and you stay that way for what feels like forever.

“Steve?” you turn your head and look at him out of the corner of your eye.

“Yeah babe?” he lands a kiss on your cheek.

“I’m a prune. I need to get out of this water.”

Steve laughs “Well, the water is getting a bit cold anyway.  Do you need any help getting out sweetheart?”

“Haha, it’s my brain that’s busted Steve, not my legs or arms.” You joke with him.

“Just offering a hand if you need it, my love.” He says. “Although I have to say, I’m pretty happy with the view as it is.”

“You’re terrible Rogers.  Actually, there is one thing I wanted to ask you.”

“Ask away sweetheart, I’ll tell you pretty much anything you want to know at this point.”

“Do I have an engagement ring - I mean if I was, or am, your fiancé, I’m guessing you liked it enough to put a ring on it?”

Steve almost chokes with laughter at you quoting a Beyonce song. “Oh yeah, I sent it away to be cleaned and it needed a couple of new hook things on it, I don’t really know the ins and outs.  I should talk to the jeweller about getting it back.  By the way, keep tonight free, because I am taking you on a date.”

Tag List: @wolfbeanpotion @vioplay19 @jason-todd-fangirl-14 @crazyunsexycool @zaraomarrogers @bitchy-bi-trash @mrsnikstan @harrysnovia

[theoi-crow]

I'm sorry if this question seems strange, but what do you do if you feel like you've been abandoned by the divine? Not only can I barely feel their presence in my life despite talking and praying to them, but I'm about to enter a very difficult chapter in my life so I feel like they're abandoning me when I need them the most.

I'm getting jaw joint replacement surgery in April and my surgeon told me that it will cause severe nerve and muscle damage in my face, and that I'll lose most of the feeling and movement in my entire face and neck. It's a surgery that will change my entire life moving forward and I feel like crying because I can't feel the presence of the Theoi or any other Gods, despite needing them the most right now.

I've heard that the gods never truly abandon us, but what do we do when we still can't feel them even after crying out? What am I supposed to do right now? I apologize for the vent, but I really need some guidance rn and I love and admire your blog, so I hope it's okay to ask you this. Thank you

I want to start this very important ask by first saying that I think the gods are still with you because I got this very urgent feeling to answer this question and the energy felt like it was coming from them so they were helping me gather the scientific research needed to answer why it's hard to sense them right now (which took me a few days longer to complete than I had previously anticipated). I had to go through a similar surgery with the same possible outcome a couple of years ago and the wait leading up to it was one of the hardest moments of my life so I can sympathize with how difficult this situation is for you right now.

The answer to this ask is very long because I wanted to use scientific research to thoroughly explain why it feels like the gods have abandoned you and have added things that could help sense them again:

Why is it hard to sense the gods right now?

There are times when I can't hear the gods at all and it happens when I'm very upset and need them the most. This is a very common experience for worshippers who are going through a crisis or when they're in a situation that causes their stress levels to get higher than usual.

There's even a scientific explanation for that:

According to Harvard research: Stress causes the amygdala to take over because it switches to survival mode and your amygdala governs the survival part of your brain. At the same time it reduces the energy sent to your brain's memory and other centers that help with cognitive function. Dr. Ressler says, "...the brain is shunting its resources because it's in survival mode..." The brain pumps us with cortisol (the stress hormone) and adrenaline to trigger our fight or flight response because it thinks we're being chased by an apex predator even though we no longer have to worry about predators like saber-toothed tigers and other fauna that once hunted us, but our bodies still respond by pumping us with chemicals needed to run away because we were hunter-gatherers for 1.8 million years (LINK) and only started engaging in agriculture and complex communities beyond family like villages and towns more recently so our brains and bodies are wired to react to stress as if we were still hunter-gatherers. The reason why I'm mentioning all of this is because when we have high levels of stress:

It's hard to sense the gods because the usual cognitive functions we're used to sensing them with are being impacted by the amygdala.

High levels of stress caused by situations that trigger the amygdala can change how your brain functions by changing your brain waves. In this situation the amygdala increases the beta waves (LINK). Neuroscience research studies brain waves based on these five categories: (LINK)

According to research the beta waves have three sections:

High Beta waves (18-40 Hz) - Are the ones that get affected by the amygdala because the brain only cares about survival when it thinks you are being chased by a wild predator which is different from the slower frequencies of ALPHA and THETA waves which help you better connect with the gods since ALPHA waves are reflective and THETA waves help you connect with your intuition (LINK) and both help you feel more spiritually connected (LINK).

How to change your brain waves and reconnect with the gods:

I have a really hard time hearing the gods when I'm in the middle of a crisis or my stress levels are very high so I often use different forms of meditation to bring my high Beta waves down to Alpha or Theta levels. Classic meditation has been proven to work in doing this (LINK) but since I have ADHD I have a hard time with that so I'm going to suggest other activities that go beyond the traditional form of meditation in case you have a condition that also keeps you from being able to meditate this way:

1) Deep breathing: According to the article talking about classic meditation that I linked to just a second ago, taking in deep breaths has been shown to change your brain patterns by boosting Alpha waves. I recommend taking 3-10 deep breaths, or however much you would prefer and ending it with "my gods are with me," either said out loud or in your head. Here's a little gif that can help guide you but please go slower if you need to or ignore it if it doesn't help.

2) Dancing or exercising: Even though we have gone beyond the hunter-gatherer lifestyle, our bodies are still specifically designed for a hunter-gatherer body so when the amygdala triggers your fight or flight response, it will not stop until it senses the danger has passed. Exercise/dancing fools the brain into thinking you are doing something about that predator (either running or fighting) which helps it finish the process a lot faster. After it's done it will lower you from your high Beta three waves to lower beta waves, this will make it easier for you to reach your Alpha and Theta waves and thus spiritually connect with the gods. I suggest making a playlist full of songs that remind you of your gods and exercise/dance to them or ones that get you moving even if it's just swaying.

3) Light stretches or light exercises that require deep breathing like Yoga, Tai Chi or others within this category: I often do Yoga because it helps me do the first two suggestions rolled into one. Movement is very important for the body to tell the amygdala you are physically doing something to get to safety (again, hunter-gatherer bodies require hunter-gatherer solutions). By doing light exercises and deep breathing you are releasing the tension triggered by your cortisol levels and simultaneously lowering your brain waves from beta to alpha or theta levels. Add positive affirmations about your connection to the gods ("my gods are with me" or something similar) and imagine them with you while you do this.

4) Listening to music: Earlier I suggested making a playlist of songs that remind you of your gods that you can dance to but just listening to the music will also help. I suggest only listening to songs you want to listen to because even if a song reminds you of a god but you don't like it, don't add it. Make sure the music moves your emotions even if the song is angry or painful, so long as you're feeling the song, it'll help move your beta waves to a more relaxing state and fool your brain into thinking you're doing something about that perceived predator.

5) Journaling: The god I have the hardest time hearing is Apollo so I sometimes use spiritual journaling to connect with him. Spiritual journaling is great because it helps you use different parts of the brain that may not be as affected by the amygdala. Plus you'll have a record of your conversations with the gods in case you need to refer to them for past advice or days when you can't hear them. The way spiritual journaling works is you allow the gods to write through you by following a few simple rules:

1) Write everything down, whatever is in your head in whatever form it's in, even if it's a positive or negative thought, it doesn't have to be fancy or poetic, it can even be crass or harsh but it needs to be typed or written. Don't worry about your spelling because that'll slow down your writing and the point is to get it all out and not overthink it. Writing it down uses a different part of your brain that can help you sense the gods better in case your usual methods aren't working.

2) Ask the gods questions and write down whatever comes to your head. Be specific about which god you are talking to, for example it might look like this: "Hey Apollo I need help with this thing, what is it? My mind won't shut up about that thing I said 3 years ago, breath with me, in 1, 2, 3, out, 1, 2, 3, again in 1, 2, 3, out, 1, 2, 3, better? Yeah, thanks." I colored Apollo's parts with the orange font for the sake of clarity but I'm writing what is coming to my mind as I talk to Apollo so on the paper it will be whatever color your pen or font is, don't worry about differentiating between who is talking until you re-read it later.

3) you can type or write it but be sure to use whichever method you are most comfortable doing fast because you don't want to have time to second guess yourself wondering if that was you or the gods. It's easy for doubt to happen in these situations. The problem with doubt is that it causes a disconnection since you are allowing the gods to write through you but your mind will try to question if you're just making it up. It's one of those "trust the process" situations that take time to get used to.

6) "What would my god do/say?" This is the most important question for worshippers who can't hear or sense their gods. Sometimes I do this with Apollo or Athena because I can't always hear them so I'd go "what would Apollo say right now? He'd probably tell me it's better to do my physical therapy right now or I'll regret it tomorrow because he's the god of medicine and cares about my health." Or I'll sometimes go, "if Athena were here, what would she do? As the goddess of strategy she would probably ask me if I thought about plans B and C in case plan A falls through." Sometimes you have to guess what your gods will say until you can hear them again. This works your memory by helping you recall information you learned about the gods and/or past experiences you've had with them and eventually you will have these gut feelings about what the gods would say or do as if it's the gods themselves telling you.

7) Every time you think of your gods, assume your gods triggered that thought: In my Native American culture, we believe that when you suddenly think of an ancestor (or a family member who recently died) it means they are hugging you from the spirit world, likewise, whenever I suddenly think of the gods I assume they are triggering that thought and sending me messages, for example I'll suddenly think to myself "I should probably drink some water," and get a sudden image of Apollo so to me Apollo is the one who is telling me to drink water.

8) Be in Nature: Unlike the religious buildings we see today, the temples of the gods were not designed to be places of worship for humans but places for humans to store whatever gifts they gave them because the ancient Greeks believed nature was where the gods were worshipped, especially mountains that required effort for humans to reach or places that took your breath away. That being said, the gods I turn to when I can't connect with mine are Helios, Selene and Gaia because these are the gods I can immediately see and touch. Gaia is all around you, Helios will blind you if you stare at him for too long and Selene will keep whatever secret you tell her while you're admiring her moon form. Likewise, your gods also have nature aspects or concepts they embody like Aphrodite being the concept of love or Athena being wisdom. You can be with your gods by engaging with the realms and concepts they rule over or embody.

9) Arts and Crafts with your gods: While drawing or crafting whatever activity relaxes you, have an honest conversation with your gods and use the "what would the gods do/say" method to assume what they'll say. Play relaxing or inspiring music in the background for a more enjoyable experience.

10) Hug your gods or Cry on your gods: Sometimes crying on the lap of your god or hugging a pillow/stuffed animal while imagining you are hugging your god might help you feel both better and better connected. I wrote posts on how to cry on a god here and how to hug a god here.

11) Classic Meditation: It's been proven to work (LINK) but the act of meditating in this form doesn't always work for everyone so I added it later but still wanted to include it in case it'll work for you or you wish to try it.

12) Prayer: Prayer works like meditation in that it can also bring your beta three waves to alpha and theta levels but my disclaimer is that you have to feel the prayer move you. As someone who grew up Catholic I can pray in my sleep without knowing what I'm saying by only going through the motions of praying without ever feeling the words because I've been told what to say since I was three when more complex words were just sounds to me and never understood what I was saying until I was 12 and had to write it down for Sunday school, so prayer is only at the bottom of this list because it never worked for me until I started making up my own prayers. You also have the option of using Hymns as prayers but I'll write down how to make up a prayer in case you need it. To make up your own prayer you can use epithets that represent whatever specific aspect of the god you want to connect with if you're looking for a specific aspect. You can use epithets they already have in theoi.com or you can make up an epithet yourself in whatever language you are most connected to. You can praise the gods based on their hymns or past experiences you've had with them. You can make it as simple or as poetic as you'd like but you have to have a very honest and open heart when you are making up a prayer that will move you. You need to feel the words and make a prayer that will bring you peace and comfort. I sometimes sing Happy by Marina (LINK) or Venus by Sleeping at Last (LINK) to Aphrodite because they are songs that make me feel peaceful and feel like prayers so I wanted to add these to remind you that you can also use songs as prayers too since hymns were sometimes sung.

In conclusion:

Even if you can't sense the gods, they are with you, it's just that in our hectic lives we often forget we are still subject to the physical functions of the brain which controls what switches will be turned on or off and unfortunately it's hard to hear the gods when we are in our Beta three state because we're in a crisis and it has decided to turn off intuition and the ability to sense spiritual connections because those are in the Alpha and Theta levels but the amygdala puts us in beta three because its main priority is to either fight or outrun whatever apex predator it thinks is putting your life at risk. We may not remember a time when we had to fight or outrun wild predators but our bodies and brains still act as if we are and will limit the energy to other cognitive functions until it thinks we are safe. This is also why people who try to control others use fear tactics because it's easier to control someone in Beta three since their cognitive functions are disrupted and they will do anything for safety and security even if it means giving up their rights in exchange for it.

The brain makes it harder to sense the gods because it is prioritizing your safety and has turned everything else off in order to protect you. Gently thank it because it's only doing what it has evolved to do to guarantee your safety, and try any of the activities I listed above to help reconnect with your gods or feel free to try new ones so long as they will help turn your Beta Three waves into Alpha or Theta waves.

May your connection to the gods be easy, clear, and loud when they bring you peace.

[void-occupation]

Some Lee!Alastor Headcanons to Fuel My Brain

The lee!alastor tag has been painfully empty for the last few days, so I've decided to contribute a few headcanons of mine for you all to see and consider as you wish. Feel free to add on to this post with headcanons/rants/fics/whatever of your own if you want, I was just personally experiencing withdrawal symptoms and needed to fuel my addiction lol

(These are tickle headcanons for those unfamiliar with the terminology. If that isn't your thing, just scroll right on by)

First thing's first. Something I think everyone is sleeping on? Scalp massagers. Specifically the wire ones. I personally think those things are ticklish as fuck, and I'm far from the only one. The majority of us have come to the agreement that Alastor's ears are also ticklish as fuck. Just take a moment with me and imagine the potential:

Someone (probably Angel, or Lucifer) gets a scalp massager and is going around trying it on other hotel residents when they aren't paying attention. It's just for fun, and they're getting the typical reactions (jumping away, super startled, or just completely Unphased). Then, they manage to catch Alastor by surprise and do it to him, but instead of the typical reaction, Alastor startles before bursting out into staticky giggles. Alastor has no clue WHY it tickles so much, but it does, and he's practically paralyzed in a weird half-curled position as whoever has the massager just keeps running it over is head over and over. He can't try to escape, he can only giggle and babble out nonsense words, especially when the ends rub up against his ears which only makes it MORE ticklish, which he didn't think was possible. After the other demon shows mercy (and somehow isn't immediately slaughtered) Alastor develops a healthy fear of the massager, and grows incredibly anxious with anticipation and adorably flustered any time someone brings one out

Speaking of massagers brings me to my second headcanon. This man CANNOT get a massage or he will absolutely die. People who are tense can be more ticklish as a result, and since Alastor is already incredibly ticklish, having tense muscles makes this 100x worse. I have really tense shoulders, and any massage there immediately makes me hysterical, and I imagine Alastor would be the same. If he was comfortable enough to do so, he would be the kind of person to absolutely die if he were to get a full-body massage because it would tickle so damn much - even through the pain that comes with massages. Rosie likes to pretend to massage his shoulders and neck just so she can tell him to stop squirming and giggling so much because she's trying to help him

Another quick headcanon. I like to imagine that he's mostly covered in fur, and while it isn't terribly long in most places, it can still get tangled after a shower, or after being smothered by his clothes all day, so he has to brush it regularly. This is an absolute nightmare for him. Even when he's brushing his own fur, he has to stop every few seconds because he starts laughing too much in certain areas, like over his sides or belly for example. No matter how often he does it, he never gets used to the feeling, and it only gets worse if someone else (usually Rosie) does it for him. At least if he does it himself, he can stop once he starts laughing. It makes it take a long time, but it's less flustering. If Rosie (or Satan forbid someone else for whatever reason) brushes his fur, she usually tries to get a much done at once as she can, so she usually keeps going until he's begging for a break. Also, she thinks it's absolutely adorable, so she'll keep brushing areas that make him squeal long after all the tangles have been removed

Last one for now is that he can feel the static from people's phones. If he's close to someone when their phone rings, he can usually feel the static of it crawling teasingly over his skin. It usually isn't a big deal, but if someone is being bombarded by calls that they keep ignoring (let's say Valentino obsessively calling Angel Dust), the static quickly becomes overwhelming and he'll beg the person to answer their phone or turn it off, if straight up bashing it against the nearest wall isn't an option. It doesn't tickle a particular area, more of an all-encompassing tickle over his entire body. If he gets to the point of begging them to answer, it's usually because he can't hold his laughter and squirming anymore and is trying not to make a fool of himself. He feigns annoyance so people don't find out the real reason he wants the calls to stop. The secret comes out when Angel absolutely refused to answer Valentino one day, but didn't want to turn off his phone because he was in the middle of doing something on it, and Alastor finally broke and curled up where he sat, giggling hysterically and begging Angel to turn his phone off

That's all I have for now, I hope you enjoyed these headcanons. If you decide you like them enough to incorporate them into anything you write/draw, tag me!!! I'd move to see it. Also, as mentioned earlier, feel free to add onto this as you wish, I'd love to see how you all make these headcanons your own