#he REALLY wants that morphine... for what purpose...

[camthecatchameleon]

been thinkin about eom as i usually do and got BRAIN BLASTED by a dream i had a while ago

...

i feel it imperative to add that virgil/jericho temporarily becomes a mantis dragonfly before they cease to exist.

...

...

so anyway i drew it

okay goodbye i return to the void/aether from whence i came

[lovejongseob]

hiiii! first i wanted to tell you how much i loved your writings!! seriously it’s so good! i hope you will feed us with your amazing stories for a long time !

also i have a request, it’s my first time requesting, which makes me feel nervous Σ('◉⌓◉’) ANYWAY! could you write a jongseob x very shy s/o? like sfw (and nsfw if you are inspired) and he teases the reader about all this shyness and embarrassment over normal/romantic/couple thing. i see him kind of cocky but also very loving (like his s/o is too cute..)

yep, that was my request ! i wish you the best! xoxo ٩(๑❛ᴗ❛๑)۶

Jongseob x Extremely shy s/o

(Sfw + Nsfw) OMGGG YOURE SO SWEET AHHH !! I really do appreciate you, thank you thank youuuu !! I hope to be writing for a while as well !! ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧ And ofccc, thank you so so much for requesting, you don't have to be nervous !! I hope you enjoy, wishing you the best as well !! xoxo

Sfw

As soon as Jongseob realizes how easily flustered you get, he's always trying to get those reactions from you. Would shower you in compliments throughout the day, and have bursts of 'attacking' you with them. He likes seeing how nervous your voice sounds, or how you stutter when responding.

If you're alright with it, Jongseob would also like making you shy with his touch. He loves how just lightly trailing over you with his hands can make you shutter, and how shocked your eyes look when he pulls your face to look back at his. A little more suggestive, but he loves seeing how you tremble when he has you pinned against a wall.

He just can't help himself from teasing you, he finds how you act so adorable, it's how he expresses it. There's a small smirk on his face when he asks you what's got you nervous, even though he's been doing this on purpose. Tells you in-between kisses to your wrist or neck that there's no need to be shy, knowing he isn't exactly helping. 

If you ever seem genuinely embarrassed or anxious, he would focus heavily on making sure you're okay. He never wants you to be put in a state of panic, so he's careful not to take anything too far. Gives you breaks of just loving on you, and reassures you when you get shy about that too.

Jongseob would of course never want you to be uncomfortable, but he really is fond of how flustered and embarrassed you get. Honestly, it may be because he's also shy. He likes you a lot, and doesn't want to mess anything up. So he feels pretty confident and loved when you react so strongly to the small things he does.

Nsfw

Similarly, Jongseob would also be extremely nervous. Appreciates the fact that you're more nervous, he thinks that means you won't be able to tell. Worries about anything from hurting you, doing a bad job, being stupid, and so much more. But when you're being so endearing and sweet, he finds himself naturally relaxing, focusing more on your reactions and pleasure.

He's extremely affectionate and caring, always making sure you aren't stressed or overwhelmed. Jongseob is very patient, waiting for you to say whatever you need , going slow, and being gentle so its not too much for you. He's so thoughtful too, considering what would be too much, asking how you're doing, and how it feels.

When you're both just a little more used to being intimate, and after making sure its something you would like, he would definitely love to tease you. He'd edge you with his fingers and make you use your words to beg for him to actually fuck you, or grind you over his hips until you're soaking his sweats through your underwear.

Jongseob would leave marks over your chest and softly bite at your neck, only stopping when he's telling you how much he loves how embarrassed you get. He would also be so turned on by the sounds and faces you make. He'd be pulling your hands away from your face, telling you he wants to see it and hear it all.

played minecraft with my friends for like four hours before writing, and my mc cat, morphine sulfate, suffocated and i was actually about to just log off and go to sleep. its so hot in my house what the fuckk. but seriously you're so sweet, thank you so much. your kind words do mean a lot to me <3

[moonmaiden1996]

Love at First Sight (According to Nagumo, Anyway) Part 8

Warning- Reader in shock/trauma. Long chapter

The world blurred around you, the chaos of the alley melting into a fog of numb disbelief. Nagumo carried you easily, his grip unyielding yet careful, as if you were made of glass. You could feel the damp warmth of his coat around your shoulders, the scent of blood and steel clinging to the fabric. But it wasn't just the blood that haunted the air—there was a certain heaviness to it, a weight of all that blood and death.

You should have struggled. You should have demanded he put you down. But your body refused to obey, locked in the weight of everything that had just happened. The suddenness of it all—your ex-boss's lifeless eyes, staring into the void. They weren't even looking at you. No, they looked past you, beyond you. And that thought, that chilling thought, made it all feel even worse. Those eyes would haunt you for a long time. Maybe forever.

Nagumo was silent as he carried you through the empty streets. His pace was steady and purposeful—each step echoing in the silence of the night. Still, something in the way he held you made you feel safe, even if the world around you was falling apart. You were drained, weak, exhausted. The pain from the bruises and cuts was a dull throb, but nothing compared to the emotional toll that seemed to suffocate you. Your breath came in ragged gasps, and you could feel tears slipping down your face—silent tears, almost as if you were too tired to make any noise. It felt like a dream or, more accurately, a nightmare that terrifies you even when you are awake. But this was no dream. This was reality. A reality that made your chest ache and your throat tighten. It was too much. Too unreal.

The next thing you knew, you were being managed through a door. The dim glow of warm light wrapped around you, a stark contrast to the dark streets outside. It was silent. There was no hum of city noise here, no honking of cars or distant chatter. Just silence. A thick, suffocating silence that left you feeling exposed, like you were in a space too big to fill.

Carefully, he lowered you onto the plush couch, his hands lingering just a second too long before pulling away as though reluctant to let you go. His eyes—those sharp golden eyes—scanned your face with an intensity that made your skin prickle. There was no smirk, no playful edge; his movements were calculated and purposeful, like a man who knew exactly what he was doing.

"You haven't said a word," he said, his voice low, coaxing, but there was something else in it. Something almost… disappointed. "Not a word. After everything that happened."

You swallowed the dry rasp of your throat, feeling like a weight in your chest. Your lips parted, but no sound came out. You couldn't find the words—not now, not when everything felt so wrong. You couldn't even meet his gaze, the intensity of it too much to bear.

Nagumo exhaled sharply, filled with quiet frustration, before his fingers brushed gently against your chin, tilting your face toward him. His touch was light but carried an undeniable weight, demanding your attention.

"You're shaking," he murmured, more to himself than to you. His eyes flicked to your cheek, where the sting of torn skin still throbbed. The blood had dried, but the pain was still fresh. His gaze darkened, the flicker of something dangerous stirring in the depths of those golden eyes. "You're not okay. I can see that. You're still shaking."

Without another word, he stood, disappearing into another room. When he returned, he carried a small first-aid kit, setting it down beside you quietly. You couldn't help but notice the other items stashed in the kit—vials of adrenaline, morphine, surgical tools that could do far more than just heal. He really was an assassin. Not just a crazed psychopath. Truly, you wanted to laugh at the sheer absurdity of it, but you couldn't bring your body to move. Not that you didn't want to laugh, it was insane, the fact you had an actual assassin saving you from a hoard of gangsters, your body simply wouldn't comply. 

"Stay still," he ordered, his voice gentle but firm.

You didn't have the strength to do anything else. You didn't even know what you wanted. 

He knelt beside you, his fingers unnervingly soft as he cleaned the wound on your cheek. The sharp sting of alcohol made you flinch, but he didn't pull away. If anything, his touch softened, his fingers gliding over your skin as though trying to erase the damage.

"They hurt you," he whispered, his voice barely audible, but there was fury hidden beneath the softness, barely contained. "Those bastards. They hurt you." The words weren't really meant for you, more like for himself.

He continued to work silently, his fingers deftly wrapping a bandage around your cheek with meticulous care. When he was finished, his hands lingered on your face, thumbs brushing your jaw in slow, deliberate strokes. His gaze didn't leave yours, his golden eyes burning into you like he was searching for something.

Then, he tilted his head, his voice dropping to a whisper, "Did I break you?"

You blinked, your breath hitching, your heart skipping a beat. His grip tightened just a little as he cradled your head in his hands, his touch possessive now, holding you in place. His voice softened, almost coaxing, but still laced with that dangerous edge. "You haven't moved. Haven't fought. You've just… let me take care of you. Why? Why aren't you fighting, little one? Scared of the big bad assassin?"

You didn't know how to answer. Were you scared? No. You were too tired, too lost in the fog of everything that had happened. The words didn't come, not because you didn't want to speak, but because you didn't know what to say.

Nagumo's lips curled into a soft smirk, but it wasn't playful. It wasn't teasing. It was dark, almost possessive, like a predator who had found his prey. "No," he murmured, more to himself than to you. "I didn't break you. You're still in there. You're just… processing. Aren't you?" His tone softened, almost gentle, as he leaned in, his breath warm against your forehead. "Take your time. I'm not going anywhere. I'll be here. I'm looking forward to having my feisty wife back."

The finality in his words sent a chill down your spine, a sense of something inevitable settling in your chest. But before you could react, he shifted beside you, pulling you into him with a casual ease that belied the weight of his actions. One arm wrapped around your shoulders, the other tangling in your hair, guiding your head against his chest.

"Shhh," he murmured against your temple, pressing you closer to him. "It's alright. You're safe now. You don't need to do a single thing."

Safe.

That word again. You wanted to believe it. But how could you be? With him?

Nagumo's fingers combed through your hair with slow, deliberate motions, tightening every now and then as if checking that you were still his. His presence surrounded you, enveloping you completely, and despite everything—there was something strangely comforting about it. It wasn't normal, but it was something you craved. Something you needed. Just for now, you told yourself.

"You don't have to think," he whispered, his voice dripping with something dangerously sweet. "Not right now. Let me take care of you."

Nagumo's arms enveloped you, holding you close as if you might slip away otherwise. You were confused and scared, but most of all, you were just… tired. You didn't have the energy to fight, think, or question. All you wanted was to curl into yourself, to forget, even for a little while.

Nagumo's fingers slipped from your hair, and his voice was soft, coaxing. Let me take care of you now." His gaze softened for a fraction of a second. "You need a shower. Get the filth of you," he said, his voice soft, almost gentle, in a way you didn't expect. There was no edge to his usual taunts, no mocking tone. It was simply… practical. His eyes swept over you, a flicker of something unspoken passing between you before he continued, "And medicine. Your throat won't heal on its own."

You hesitated. Your whole body was a chaotic mess—trembling from the inside out, from the fear, the violence, and the blood still clinging to you. But he had seen it, too. He had caught the flicker of doubt, the hesitation in your eyes. And like a cat with its prey, his smirk returned.

"You'll feel better," he promised, holding his hand.

With a sigh, you took his offered hand. It was warm. His grip was firm, not aggressive, but with a quiet strength that suggested he wouldn't let you fall. You let him lead you toward what you assumed was the bathroom, feeling the exhaustion pulling at your bones with every step. The moment you stepped inside, the clean, sterile smell of the room hit you like a wave. The gleam of the marble countertops, the glass shower with its perfect lines, and the pristine stack of towels all felt alien to you at that moment. Too perfect. Too untouched. It made your skin crawl in contrast to the blood-streaked reality you'd just lived through.

Nagumo, ever practical, didn't waste a moment. He reached past you, twisting the shower handle. The hiss of steam filled the air, curling into the warm room as the water cascaded down, steaming and inviting. The warmth hit you almost immediately, wrapping around you like a blanket, and for a moment, you let it. Let it drown out the cold and the sharpness of your thoughts.

"I'll get you some clothes," he said, leaving. Then, his sharp gaze flicked back over his shoulder. "Don't lock the door."

You froze, your heart skipping a beat. The edge in his voice left no room for argument or hesitation. It wasn't a suggestion—it was an order. 

"Nagumo—" you started, but he interrupted you before you could finish, his tone flat but firm.

"Just in case. That's all. Just in case."

In case, what? You fell? You can't find the soap? You try to escape? You didn't know, but your brain hurt trying to think. Simply, you swallowed hard and nodded, defeated. His gaze lingered for a moment before leaving, the door clicking shut behind him with a soft finality that tightened your chest.

All you could do for a moment was stare at your reflection in the bathroom mirror. Your breath came out in shallow, uneven gasps as you looked at yourself, barely recognizing the person staring back at you. You were pale; you looked sick. Blood was smeared across your arms, streaked down your collarbone, and stained the space under your nails. But the worst part—what you couldn't tear your eyes away from—were the bruises on your throat, the fingerprints that had been pressed into your skin. The memory of the chokehold, the panic, flooded your senses again, and you felt the blood rush to your head.

The blood. It was everywhere.

Your chest constricted as a sob clawed its way up from your throat. Your breath came faster, erratic. You could feel it, the weight of it—the blood, the suffocating presence of it. You wrapped your arms around yourself as if to hold your broken body together, but it wasn't enough. The room felt too small, the walls pressing in. It was too much.

Before you could think better of it, you stepped into the shower, clothes still clinging to your body like a second skin. The water hit you in a rush—scalding, sharp against your chilled skin. The fabric of your clothes grew heavy with the weight of it, but you couldn't bring yourself to take them off. Not yet. You needed to scrub away the evidence, all of it—the blood, the violence, the pain.

Your hands moved mindlessly over your body, scrubbing your arms, chest, and hands. The water turned red, swirling around your feet, but it wouldn't come off. No matter how hard you scrubbed or how much pressure you put against your skin, the stains wouldn't leave. It was in your mind, in your lungs, and suffocating you.

A broken sob escaped your lips, and your knees buckled beneath you. The cold tiles met you before you could collapse fully, your breath coming in sharp, ragged gasps. Your chest refused to rise and fall properly, your hands trembling violently as you continued to scrub, scrub, scrub—but nothing changed. The water, the blood, the smell of it—it was choking you. You couldn't breathe. You couldn't think.

Then, the door creaked open. You barely registered it before you felt his arms around you—strong, steady. Panic surged through you, and you twisted in his grasp, trying to push him away. Your nails scraped against his arms in desperate defence, but he held on. He didn't flinch. His grip was unyielding, his presence a constant force you couldn't escape. Finally, you calmed, sobbing against him.

"Shhhhhh," Nagumo murmured. His voice was low, steady, and unbothered by your frantic state. "You're okay." he soothed.

You shook your head violently, tears streaming down your face. "It's still there, I can feel it—" The blood. The choking feeling.

His grip shifted, becoming less forceful and more… guiding. Slowly, he lowered both of you to the shower floor, his hands still steady on your body. The coldness of the tiles beneath you was a harsh contrast to the searing heat of the water, and it helped just a little.

Nagumo didn't let go. He didn't push. He just held you while the sobs wreaked you.

"Do you want help getting the blood out of your clothes?" he asked, his voice soft but pragmatic as if the question was the most natural thing in the world.

You didn't respond with words. Instead, you let out a strangled sob, the fight draining from your body. You curled forward, pressing your forehead to his soaked shoulder. He didn't pull away. He didn't say anything. His hands moved, methodical and slow, as he reached for the soap and began to rub it into the fabric of your sleeves. His movements were deliberate and gentle, as if each stroke of his hand tried to convince you that you weren't alone.

The scent of soap, the rhythmic motions of his hands. Slowly, your breath began to even out, the frantic edge softening into something closer to exhaustion. Your fingers curled into his jacket, clinging to him like he was the only thing tethering you to reality.

"It's okay," he murmured, voice barely louder than the sound of water running. "I've got you."

Nagumo kept working, never rushing, never forcing you to move faster than you could handle. Even when the stains were gone, he kept rubbing as if trying to convince you that the blood wasn't something that would haunt you forever. His hands were there, warm and present, steady against your trembling form.

Eventually, the panic ebbed, leaving behind a deep, exhausted stillness. Your breath steadied, your grip loosened, and Nagumo, satisfied that you were finally coming back from the edge, turned off the water smoothly.

For a long moment, neither of you moved. Then, with a small shift, Nagumo pulled away just enough to look at you. His expression was unreadable, but his gaze was unwavering, waiting for you to answer the question without words.

"Better?"

It wasn't fixed. But it was better. You swallowed and nodded weakly, the weight of everything pressing down on you.

Nagumo didn't say anything but helped you up, his hands firm but careful on your arms. He grabbed a towel and wrapped it around your body. The fabric was thick and warm, soaking up the last of the water from your skin.

"You're gonna be alright," he said quietly as if it was as much for him as it was for you.

He disappeared for a moment, only to return with dry clothes. He set them beside you and crouched down, meeting your eyes, his gaze softening ever so slightly.

Nagumo handed you a set of clothes, his at a guess. They were oversized, warm, and faintly scented of spice and herbs. A simple black hoodie and soft sweatpants, too big for your frame but comforting in their own way. 

Nagumo had stepped out of the room, leaving you with only the faint sounds of movement beyond the door—quiet footsteps, the rustle of fabric, the subtle clink of something being set down. You listen for a moment, hearing him move from one place to the next till you feel safe enough to peel yourself out of your soaked suit.  The fabric felt like a shield as you slipped into it, the weight of his hoodie settling over your shoulders, engulfing you completely. The sleeves draped far past your hands, the hem hanging low over your thighs, but you didn't mind. If anything, the sheer size of it made you feel hidden, tucked away from the world. 

When he returned, a towel in hand, he didn't say anything, just crossed the space between you with effortless ease. Without hesitation, he reached for your damp hair, slowly running the towel through it.

"Come on," he murmured, his voice low but firm. He didn't give you a chance to argue; he just placed a hand on your back and guided you out of the bathroom and up the stairs. The room was dimly lit, the air thick with a quiet stillness. The bed was neatly made, the blankets plush and inviting. 

You hesitated at the edge of the bed, but Nagumo didn't. He pulled the blankets back effortlessly, then gestured for you to lie down. When you did, he tucked the covers around you with a surprising gentleness, his hands lingering just long enough to ensure you were completely warm.

"You're exhausted," he said simply, standing at the bedside. His gaze softened for a moment before he reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. "Get some sleep."

You blinked up at him, the weight of exhaustion finally settling in, dragging you under. But before your eyes could fully close, you felt the mattress shift slightly—Nagumo perching at the edge, not quite leaving yet. His presence was steady, unwavering, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you let yourself believe, just for a moment, that you were safe.

"Rest," he murmured, his voice the last thing you heard before exhaustion claimed you.

@yomsy @noodle81937

So what do you think? I sort of got carried away with this one. I really love how sweet he turned out but I am ready for more possessive deludedly in love Nagumo next chapter. Let me know what you think! Love hearing you comments.

LIKE. COMMENT. REQUEST

[luveline]

hi lovely!! you mentioned bombshell!reader holding spencer's hand the whole time after the whole tobias incident and i wanted to request a more in-depth continuation of that, if it's alright? maybe with reader helping spence with his addiction afterwards too bc i just hate how the team didn't support him properly during that time 😭

There's something cold touching his hand. Actually, there's lots of things happening to his hand. 

Spencer fights to open heavy lashes, closes them again when the white hospital wall bathed in early morning sun burns his retinas. Alert, he realises that the hand in his is sweetly soft, with gentle fingertips holding his marriage finger up higher than the rest. You're playing with his hands while he sleeps.

Spencer opens his eyes again. There's no machine taking his observations, no beeping or whistling or medical ringing to be heard, just the soft huff and puff of your breathing and the sound of your heel tapping the floor. 

There had been more noise last time he woke, but the same amount of you. 

“Spencer?” 

He looks up from your hands holding his to your face. It's not fair, he thinks, how pretty you are, how pretty you continue to be, with your hair, your smile, your ever-smirking lips. You're doing it now, the sight of your painted smile squeezing his heart into a frenzied beating. If they were still taking his observations, he'd die from embarrassment. 

“Hey,” you say, still smiling, hands more insistent on his. 

“Hey. What are you doing here?” 

“What does it look like I'm doing, handsome?” you ask. 

“Did you go home?” 

“Of course I did.” You don't sound truthful. “Want a drink?” 

You pull a bottle of water from your handbag and pass it to him. He has to take his hand from yours to open it, and he wishes he'd said no. Spencer would happily go thirsty to prolong your touch and the security it brings with it. He's antsy as he swallows, a foreign-body feeling pervasive as he caps the drink, puts the bottle aside, and rubs the crust from his eyes. Lank hair falls into his face. 

“You okay?” you ask gently. 

“When can I leave?” 

“Tonight… They want to make sure you're, you know… properly weaned.” Your voice comes out quieter than he's ever heard it before. 

It's as forward as anyone's bothered being about the drugs. The drug, singular. 

Dilaudid is eight times stronger than morphine. Spencer was injected multiple times. His body won't be totally addicted, but he craves the numbness of it already. Whatever he's on isn't cutting through the pain in his legs and feet, nor the memories of being tied up, and all alone. 

“I think I'm gonna be sick,” he says. 

You grab for a blanket off of the edge of the bed to cover his lap as he hangs his head, sure he's going to throw up, but he doesn't so much as heave. The nausea remains anyhow, and worsens as you sit beside his legs. Your hand once again takes his, fingers slotting together as though they were made for this one purpose, your voice a clean, cleaving thing, “Hey, it's alright. It's fine, Spence, you're okay. This is expected.” He curls in on himself. You tuck a stray strand of hair behind his ear, tugging his hand closer to you in tandem. “You're gonna feel awful for a few days, but I'm right here.” 

“Why are you here?” he asks, confused. 

“Spence.” 

He looks up from under his lashes. 

Your semi-permanent smile seems to have gotten lost somewhere. “Spencer,” you say, attempting to say something without really saying it, eyes glued to his, “where else would I be?” 

He rubs the place between his brows with the heel of his palm. You keep his hand and wrap him in a careful hug. Either you don't notice how desperately he needs a hot shower or you don't care, gracing his cheek with a friendly (and unmissably loving) kiss. It's hard not to cry after that. 

“I’m so sorry, Spencer,” you say. You weren't even on the case, but you'd showed up just as soon as you knew he'd been taken, and you haven't left his side since they found him in the cemetery. You don't have a thing in the world to be sorry for. “I'm so sorry. It'll be okay now.” Your voice ripples with surety. 

“Thanks for staying,” he says. 

“You did all the hard work by yourself.” You squeeze his fingers. “I can do the rest, babe.” 

[sugarpasteltmnt]

wow first of all THANK YOU SO MUCH to everyone who voted for my silly little story in the AU comp!! seriously you all are so wonderful and sweet and i'm just so happy to be in the comp period 😭🩵

as a big thanks i wanted to tell ya'll i'm working on the next chapter of 'Purgatory Paradise' ( • ̀ω•́ )✧ i'll try my best to have it out within the next week!! (`･ω･´)ゞ here's a sneak peak:

in the meantime, please enjoy this list of some of the references and easter eggs i had put in 'The Neon Void' while writing it! (hehe how many did YOU spot while reading?)

[warning; spoilers ahoy! avoid reading if you haven't finish TNV yet!]

here's a rough list of some of the references I snuck in or jokes i was quite proud of when writing 'The Neon Void' haha!

Houdini 

● silly reference to ‘ooze’ hehe (not so much of an easter egg but more of a bad joke lol)  ● “…What in sweet Marie Curie’s name was that about?” – Marie Curie was a physicist who studied radioactivity, and her research ultimately was used in the creation of the atomic bomb, which uses nuclear fission (aka, atoms splitting apart) (lol get foreshadowed, nerds.) 

The Shrine 

● The Jupiter Jim issue number 84 is a reference to 1984, the year the TMNT comics first came out. 

Mosaic 

● Leo’s hideout is inspired by an episode in the 2003 TMNT, where the fam hides in a water tower when the lair is discovered by the Foot Clan. (And I believe a water tower comes into play in other TMNT iterations, but I wasn’t 1000% sure) 

Marigolds 

● The area where Mikey fights Leo and cuts off his arm is heavily inspired by some of the 2003 sewer layout scenes, with the giant atriums and criss-crossing skywalks over giant areas of water. I loved those designs and wanted to incorporate that. 

Ground Control 

● Another silly joke reference of ‘shellphones’ used in the 2012 series   ● “I doubt it was unimportant considering you made enough to feed the entire New York Dave’s team,” Donnie pressed. He picked up a butterfly, inspecting it, but Mikey knew that he was trying to get to the root of the cause, “What did he say?” – Homage to early concept art of Donnie, where he has a butterfly on his knuckle (look at this cutie)

(BTW i for the life of me CANNOT find the original tweet where this photo was so if you have it let me know!) 

Mad Dog: Haunted 

● Call-back to the Krang carcass you see for 0.2 seconds in the season finale inside of the Crying Titan, which I thought was a really neat detail. 

Strings

● The book excerpt Donnie reads is written by Professor Honeycutt, a referencing the 2003 Professor Honeycut who studied teleportation and invented the teleportal  ● ‘October 28, 20:20’ written on the sticky note Donnie looks at is a reference to the release date of ‘The Last Ronin’ (10/28/2020) ● ‘By Carl Sagan–! It worked! We’ve established contact–!’ – Carl Sagan lead the effort in the creation of the Golden Record aboard the Voyager spacecraft, whos purpose was to send a message to extraterrestrials who might find the spacecraft as it traveled through vast spans of space. Since Donnie was trying to reach Karai and the ancestors from what felt like an impossible distance, it felt fitting. 

Bed and Breakfast 

● ‘He groaned. His brain was pulsing painfully behind his eyes. His whole body was achy. Great Pythagoras, what happened?’ – Pythagoras was a Greek philosopher referred to as the ‘lover of wisdom’ and made numerous mathematical and scientific discoveries, and I felt like Donnie would just generally be a fanboy of him lol.  ● ‘Sweet Friedrich Sertürner was that blood–?!’ – while working on this chapter, i asked my best friend and beta reader for some inventors/scientist names to make into funny Donnie Swears. She suggested Friedrich Sertürner because he invented morphine which is used to treat pain… and she said 'would be funny...considering how much of it they were gonna need by the time things were said and done with the Key/Leo's infection.' (SHE WAS SO REAL FOR THAT LOL)   ● The ‘Void ducking in and out of doorways just to come out of a totally different door’ chase was 100000% a Scooby-doo reference, lol. It was one of my fav cartoons growing up and that gag felt very on-brand for Leo’s silly ‘Void’ persona and i’m a little proud of it hahaha 

The Deal 

“Neon Void was literally blasted into the air. All the while laughing merrily as he soared. He went crashing into a poor, unkept, unsuspecting billboard for the Super Slam Hockey Game that already happened over ten years ago.” – This is SO obscure but this is a reference to one of my favorite 2003 TMNT episodes, ‘The Golden Puck’. The episode is so peak 2000’s cartoon to me with its silly premise and I just loved it LOL. (Southern millionaire who hires sci-fi-technology cowboy bounty hunters to steal a sports trophy in the middle of New York city? Peak old cartoon synopsis.) 

Rap Battle 

● The first few lines of Leo’s freestyle rap are the 2012 TMNT opening theme lyrics 

Boop!

● Leo runs past a ‘Space Heroes' game cabinet– Space Heroes is a reference to the 2012 TMNT, which was the show that Leonardo was obsessed with 

Tag Part I: Sonic 

● Leo bounces off the back of the Sonic the Hedgehog balloon in the parade in reference to the fact that they share the same voice actor LOL Extra fun fact this entire fic was set in autumn/fall JUST to write this NICHE SCENE

I’m sure I missed a few I couldn't remember off the top of my head, but I had a lot of fun putting these little references and easter eggs in the story 🩵 TMNT itself always makes call-backs and references to it's other iterations, and i love love love that and wanted to try myself!

[peter-pantomime]

Captain America Fic Recs, Part 2

Part 1

Steve/Bucky

A Tree Grows In Brooklyn series

"You keep asking me what I want," Bucky manages, eventually. "But on any given day, my number one priority is to get through the day alive and myself, and to do it without killing anyone. Everything else is extra." Each work is standalone.

Embers, Not Ashes

“You okay?” The outline of Steve’s hands, balled into fists inside his pockets, looks too sharp despite the wool barrier. His nice pants. Standing there in his fucking church clothes and all it makes Bucky want is to walk over there and rub him through them until he’s in just as much of a state as Bucky is. The laugh that catapults out of Bucky’s mouth tastes like bile. “Nope.”

The Dud series

When he was eight or nine, Bucky Barnes was the secret sworn enemy of the dud newsie.

Mortal

Steve is ten years old and he’s a mortal sin walking.

The Hundred Year Playlist series

Steve and Bucky, start to finish. "Come on, pal, it's me. Take another hundred years if you want, I'll still be here."

Sharp, Metallic

The day after leaving the hospital, still woozy on the massively high quantities of morphine they gave him, Steve dreams about a metal arm around his throat and warm, salty fingers in his mouth, just the way he likes. The next day, there are plate marks on his throat, fading by the minute, and his breathing skyrockets as he touches them with reverence. Steve gets fished out of the Potomac, and Bucky comes to him.

Accidentally on Purpose

Bucky turns toward him, sliding his hand onto Steve’s hip as he mutters a lazy “G’night” and presses a soft kiss to the corner of Steve’s mouth. It takes him by surprise, and he barely has time to register Bucky’s half-closed eyes and the warmth of whiskey-ripe breath on his lips, before it’s over. After Bucky drunkenly kisses Steve by accident, it just seems to keep on happening, until it's not so much by accident anymore.

Exactly Like We Were

“You can make a fight out of anything,” Bucky says, and affects a laugh, badly. “You can make a metaphor a fight. What the hell do anesthetics have to do with anything?” Steve almost blurts out, Art is an anesthetic! But at the last second, he gets a hold of himself.

despite the threatening sky and shuddering earth (they remained)

“They really didn’t want the mask to come off.” Hill thumbed through the scans, and pulled out a film that she then handed over to Sam, face mostly expressionless but for the flat line of her pursed lips. Sam accepted the film and held it up to the light, angling so both he and Steve could see it, squinting at the outline of the Winter Soldier’s skull, and the blips of unnatural white that showed up, God, in his brain, not to mention about half his teeth, plus the mask, with its thin protrusions— “Those are pins,” Steve realized. He looked over at Hill. “The mask—it’s nailed to his face.” Hill’s face was as unmoved as ever. “Like I said. They really didn’t want it coming off.”

Bei Mir Bist Du Schoen

Bucky Barnes and the Great Sexuality Crisis of 1938.

Will There be Any Freight Trains in Heaven?

It's summer of 1934, a quarter of all Americans are unemployed, and record numbers of migrant workers are hopping freight trains to seek their fortune out west. What are two boys from Brooklyn to do? or, Steve and Bucky ride the rails, become socialists, and fall in love, in no particular order.

how cold steel is (and keen with hunger)

There is a man who lives inside the Soldier’s head. The Soldier does not know much about the man. The man is an American, and he fought in one of the few twentieth-century wars the Soldier had not—if only because he did not exist yet. At some point, a war pitted their home countries against each other, but that did not put much of a damper on things. They are good friends. Here is how the Winter Soldier dies: the resurrection of James Barnes. An account of Bucky's time in Bucharest.

A red fish that fits just right in the hand

Steve asked, "Is it James now?" and he said, "No, Bucky." But no one else calls him that.

Howling Commandos series

Jacques' grand-père had kept a lock of his wife's hair, after she had died. He had worn it around his bony, age-spotted wrist, the way he had worn her smile in the reflection of his eyes.

dead hearts and midnight cowards

"Do you want to get out of here?" he adds then, all in a rush; and Bucky's not sure he meant to say it but he knows what his pulse is doing and he knows what his dick is doing besides, and he knows that Steve is looking like that and that he's looking at him like that, too. Bucky swallows to think about pressing his mouth to him, any part of him, every part of him, if they can only find some space.

Everybody is Supposed to be Dead

“…there is nothing intelligent to say about a massacre. Everybody is supposed to be dead, to never say anything or want anything ever again. Everything is supposed to be very quiet after a massacre, and it always is, except for the birds.” In 1944, Bucky Barnes falls off a train into the Alps, missing and presumed dead. Months later, Steve Rogers nosedives a plane into the arctic. In 2010, the Winter Soldier project is uncovered by S.H.E.I.L.D., and Bucky Barnes is found alive. Three years later, Steve Rogers’ frozen body is found in the ocean.

Impossible Measurements

"Steve, I love you."

In the Sight of Green Carnations

"What happened between you and Jimmy?" He caught the flash of movement out of the corner of his eye. Bucky had jumped upright, was twisted round in the bed to look at him. He looked pale. "What?" In which Bucky has a terrible day, and Steve manages to accidentally say exactly the right thing. Despite not knowing what the fuck is going on.

All The Angels and The Saints

In which Steve Rogers loses God and finds God and loses God, and also: Bucky.

Not Easily Conquered series

In 1945, Steve Rogers jumps from a nosediving plane and swims through miles of Arctic Ocean to a frozen shore. In 1947, Steve Rogers marries Peggy Carter. In 1966, the New York Times finds the lost letters of Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes.

Practice Makes Perfect

And it’s just. It’s too much. Weeks of pain and months of missing Steve and his mouth and the stupid shit that comes out of it; years of molding himself to his back at night and pretending there’s nothing else to it apart from sharing warmth; a decade of his stomach twisting with the foolish desire to make Steve laugh. It's August and sweltering when Steve asks, out of nowhere, if Bucky wants to try kissing. Just to see what it's like. Bucky then spends far, far too many years pretending it didn't mean anything at all.

cascades.

“Holy shit,” Howard says, crackling through the speakers. “You alive in there?” Lying is a sin, of course, but Steve’s not sure what else he can do. He’s already lied to the government and Bucky and God Almighty; and himself, himself most of all. He ought to tell the truth. That he’s not quite what they hoped for. That perhaps they should put him back into the ocean. “Probably,” he says, instead, listening to Howard’s tinny laughter; and waits for the blast doors to unlock.

not just the carcass, but the spark

Time stopped mattering to him long ago, except in units of distance: how many days' walk they had to go, how many days until their next orders. The air smells nice; it's even warm enough that one of the windows has been propped open on the cabin. Bucky remembers cracking open the window to the fire escape in those early days of April and smelling the Brooklyn morning with something like hope.

Remscéla

“It’s going to rain,” says Steve. Bucky squints out the window. He sways slightly as the train jolts on its tracks, but doesn’t reach for the handhold. Through the trusses, the sky outside is gray, reflecting oily and leaden on the East River. The air feels heavy, warm for late October. “It’s not going to rain.” Steve snorts. He can’t help smiling. “It is. You know it is. Not everything in the world just arranges itself according to the will of Bucky Barnes.”

Ill With Want

Bucky pretends to be asleep when Steve crawls into bed, too tired to feel guilty over the quivery pleasure that settles in his belly when Steve’s arm brushes his. Steve falls asleep in about five minutes flat, unconsciously wedging his icy toes against Bucky’s leg. Bucky doesn’t move him. He drifts to sleep in a comfortable haze and tries not to wonder where this feeling was two hours ago when he had Marie in his lap.

tezeta (nostalgia)

Steve Rogers is a terrible tourist, and a lousy house guest. Bucky Barnes waters his plants and tries his best. Set in that sweet spot between Black Panther and Infinity War, in a little valley in Wakanda

Painted in Indigo

“You should be careful of that one,” Mr. Hendrickson says, with a nod to Bucky outside the window. “It ain’t right. Looking at you all the time as he does. The way he should be looking at girls.” Steve laughs, because damn, but what a ridiculous idea. Or, five times Steve caught Bucky looking at him, and the one time he looked first.

Shangri-La

Steve gets money, still won't move in with Bucky, and somehow totally misses that Queer Brooklyn is an option.

three white horses

Steve, it's not your fault, Sam had tried to say, before Steve cut him off, and Steve doesn't think that's untrue so much as it's irrelevant; fault's got nothing to do with it. It's just—wrong. It's wrong. Steve couldn't wrap his head around it the first time, how wrong it was. Steve should have gone first. Was supposed to. Bucky could have carried on without Steve, he knows, but Steve without Bucky is a zero sum. There should never be a world that Steve is in and Bucky isn't.

The Interrogation

There's a story and it goes like this.

Through Cities And Churches

A tale of many cities and churches and two boys. Happy 100th Birthday, Bucky Barnes: March 10, 2017.

the long slide from kingdom to kingdom

They want you to love the whole damn world but you won't, you want it all narrowed down to one fleshy man in the bath, who knows what to do with his body, with his hands. -Richard Siken, Driving, Not Washing.

The Problem Solver

This wasn't what Steve wanted from him.

winter wheat, sunflower peat

In the dead of the night, a man pulls over for a hitchhiker.

Welcome Home, Son series

Her face is warm but neutral—she is a kind person, he thinks, but also a professional. She would not think twice about killing him if he tried to strike. “My name is Ayo,” she says. He hesitates when he realizes she is waiting for him to respond. He doesn’t deserve the name Bucky anymore. He still answers to Soldat—the way a beaten dog answers to a jerked chain, but it sure as hell can get his attention in a hurry. But that’s no name for a person, and he is determined to become one. (In Wakanda, two wounded soldiers begin to heal.)

[cripplecharacters]

TW for drug usage + medical ableism

While I was looking through the disability tags I saw a couple of posts talking about people being denied their medications over assumptions that they’ll use it for recreational purposes. Idk how common this is because I’m not currently on any meds but there were multiple posts with a lot of notes so I presume it’s not rare.

So here’s my problem: one of my characters has a history of substance abuse during their backstory (the addiction is at their lowest point), and a bit before the actual beginning of the story they start the path to recovery. Part of this recovery is of course getting sober, but part of it is also getting support for dealing with their disabilities (idk if it matters but they’re a mix of physical and psychological) and some of that help comes in the form of getting medicated. Because these are both pretty big things for the character so get mentioned a lot, and because they happen in like the same segment of the story, I’m worried that it may give the impression that the character is taking the medication to use recreationally to readers, which isn’t a stereotype I want to employ at all. Do you guys think this could be a problem?

Hello,

Keep in mind that if he has a history of substance abuse disorder, his doctors are going to know that and probably will not put him on a Schedule 2 medications. Depending on where he is in his recovery, they might play it safe and avoid Schedule 3, too, or at least Schedule 3 medications that are related to what he was previously addicted to. Schedule 4 and Schedule 5 should be safe. So I would recommend finding lower-schedule medications for the conditions he has and learning about those. They won't be as powerful as things with a higher chance for addiction and there will be a huge difference in what his day will be like if he takes ibuprofen for pain versus morphine.

But really, if you show him taking his medication responsibly and describe how it helps because of how bad his symptoms are without it, it likely won't give the wrong impression. It's not like he would be randomly pulling a random Vicodin out of his pocket and taking a pill whenever he feels like it, he would take his medications at certain times, with certain amounts of time between doses, or in extreme circumstances like taking something for a panic attack. If you write him using his medications as he should and being careful (in my experience, usually a bit overly careful because he really wouldn't want to go through substance abuse all over again,) you won't have a problem. Writing about him using medication responsibly won't look like him recreationally abusing substances. I think you should be fine.

If you have any questions about using medication with a history of substance abuse, feel free to send an ask!

Mod Aaron

[infectioustomfoolery]

HALF LIFE HEADCANONS

(feat my man kade)

For all intents and purposes, this is for fun and any time period mishaps should be ignored. Part two eventually.

Gordon Freeman

- 5’10”, green eyes and slutty little waist, he/him, autistic, dumb little ponytail.

- So white. So very very white.

- Makes absolutely no facial expressions ever.

- Talks exclusively through sign language, but even then sparingly.

- Got a major staring problem.

- Probably trans idfk.

- He’s definitely gay or aroace.

- He has no idea he’s autistic, gay, or in love with Barney.

- He has PTSD and because of that he’s a prick to the Vortigaunts.

- Hopelessly addicted to morphine

- Anger issues but no one can tell

- Everyone in Black Mesa wants to fuck him silly.

- Derealization issues

- Really does NOT fw Alyx

- Regularly keeps up with Aperture Science

- Chell’s brother

- “I’m not gay, Barney.”

- He is. He so is.

- Definitely thinks Barney is a sexy beast in the combine uniform

- Plays DND and likes Star Trek

Barney Calhoun

- 5’6”, he/him, spectral heterochromia

- Gay and knows it

- Probably trans too fuck if I know

- Fluffy hair, permanent 5 o’clock shadow. He’s so goddamn hairy.

- If he doesn’t pluck his eyebrows, he’ll grow a unibrow

- Dadbod

- Alcoholic

- Literally never shuts up

- Every single guard in Half Life 1 is Barney. They’re all Barney. Always have been.

- The Blue Shift Barney is “our” Barney, though. I like to think he retained all the other Barney’s memories.

- Frat boy in college. He told them he liked football and now he has to pretend

- Poses infront of the mirror everytime he has a uniform on

- Understands Gordon Freeman perfectly literally no matter what

- He got a fucked up leg from the elevator crash.

- Cries over Gordon at least once a day

- Really hates all the Half Life 1 scientists. They’re douches.

- Gun enthusiast

- Likes conspiracy theories

- Lauren doesn’t exist, she never existed. He’s just a fat liar.

- Listens to Mitski

- Beefs with Adrian because Adrian thinks its funny but really does not care

- Southern as Hell

Adrian Shephard

1.) She’s a FEMALE

2.) She’s not a BOY

3.) and most importantly, She’s a GIRL!

- 6’5”, blue eyes, she/him (she has a preference for she but Does Not Care.)

- Butch lesbian

- Was in the military with Soldier from TF2. She played along with his antics and sort of “trained” under him.

- white, but very tan

- She gets hurt a lot

- Laughs obnoxiously loud

- Wears boxers

- Blonde, either a crewcut or mullet situation

- Probably has an eyebrow slit, but in a scar way not in a gay way

- Speaking of which she is COVERED in scars and bullet wounds

- Also freckles why not

- Very high pain/spice tolerance

- Fucking LOVES nascar (poor and stupid)

- Was able to make it into the military because when she was filling out the papers she wrote "yes" next to sex and the government just thought he was a normal amount of US Marine stupid

- Colette and Gina saw her from across the bar, and they really dig her vibe

- Her mask makes her sound really grovely and awesome (see: https://youtu.be/Fr8Jxm65EC8?si=5WvOpXfQerjM7G79 )

- She beefs with Barney

- Gets a kick out of annoying Gordon Freeman to death

- Probably makes thirst traps on TikTok

- Has really good abs

- Scout’s older sister

- So she’s from Boston

[sparrowofthedawnsworld]

thinking about Jakey being in a playful little mood and blatantly ignoring the main place you want his touch-

18+ CONTENT BELOW THE CUT*

“Here, yeah?” His hands would travel over your hips, lips ghosting just above yours with a smirk that you were dying to smack off of his lips.

“Jakeee,” you would whine, reaching out to place his hand where you wanted it, only for him to pull it away entirely. “You know where. Make me cum…”

“Make me cum,” Jake parroted, raising the tone of his voice to poorly mimic yours. His hands continued their slow decent, stopping on top of your thighs. “That’s not very specific, baby. Don’t make me prove that I could make you cum without even touching your pretty cunt.”

The obscene words flowing from his mouth cut straight through you, causing your touch deprived clit to throb as he continued ignoring it.

“What about here?” He toyed with the dip between the conjunction of your thigh and hip, so close to where you were dying for him. “Hmm?”

THE FUCKING SMIRK. Let’s talk about the way he would absolutely have the most stomach-turning smirk, but in the best way- i-

He would closely watch the way your chest would rise, but didn’t fall back down for a few seconds as your breathing went completely uneven.

“Are you proud of yourself, Jacob?” You questioned, tone full of frustration and need.

The smirk on his face would only grow wider, a soft giggle flitting out of him. “I’m very proud actually. Look at you, princess.”

“Jake.” You tried to force his name out with a firmness, but the pink blush on your cheeks served to betray you.

“Tell me where,” Jake demanded, letting his lips ghost a path down your sternum and down to your belly button. “Tell me or I’ll find some other ways to make you cum.”

“That’s not even-“

“Ah-“ Jake cut you off, smiling up at you wickedly. “Don’t even say it’s not possible. Then I really have to prove it.”

It was all part of the game. He knew you’d test him, tell him he couldn’t do it, just so he would prove that he could. You knew he could make you cum practically untouched, and you wanted him to try it… just for the sake of the incredible foreplay. Because there is no doubt in my mind that Jake is incredible at foreplay.

“But you can’t,” you insisted, staring blankly up at him. Thinking perhaps if you held his mischievous gaze, he would see the desperation in your eyes and take a little pity on you.

“Okay,” Jake would say, calm and collected. You listened to the click of his tongue against the roof of his mouth, his head shaking back and forth in faux disappointment. “Sorry, baby girl, Y/N just wants you to be neglected tonight.” He placed a lingering kiss just below where the hem of your panties would lay.

You rolled your eyes, half out of genuine annoyance, half at his dramatics.

Kissing his way up, he stopped at your chest and cupped your breasts in each hand.

“Did you know…” His lips just barely brush over one of your nipples. “You can have an orgasm… just from these?”

“Yes,” you choked out, arching your body into his. “I’ve never- I’ve never had one.”

“Mmm, you haven’t, huh?” Jake questioned, torturing you with pointless questions. Wanting you to answer them solely for the purpose of listening to your breathy voice, struggle to form a sentence. “Never?”

“Never-“ you had answered, swallowing down a moan.

“I think that we should change that. What do you think, angel?”

And I just KNOW that smile he would flash you after would be soooo- ugh 😵‍💫 Someone send some morphine my way, pls and thank you-

[gallavich-annise]

Shameless Rewatch Thoughts! 

Parenthood  

Oh season 2 Lip... I know he had other downward spirals and all but season 2 Lip is a special Lip that is especially annoying. 

And this episode was a showcase in season 2 Lip being himself. It also has the end of the Grammy saga, hooray! And it also has Mickey's third and last episode of the season (we were robbed). Fiona has more drama with Jimmy-Steve, Debbie and Carl are school children, and Karen is attempting to sell her unborn baby.

The problem of course is that, with the exception of the Mickey and Ian story, I didn't strongly care about any of this. The emotional resonance was very low. There was some stuff with Grammy that was effective, but my goodwill towards that plot was already eroded, so it was difficult to really feel it emotionally, especially on rewatch.

So I guess I'll start with that...

Grammy has been shoved over to Sheila's house for the night because she blew up the Gallagher house. And what follows is a character sketch of a dying woman. We see her in pain. We see her losing control of her body, both in terms of mobility and bowel control. We see her fighting for her last shreds of dignity. 

And on the other side, we see Sheila softening because even though Grammy is awful, it's hard to see a human being in that much pain. And while Shameless rarely textualises is message, I felt it very much as a "is this justice" plot. Yes, she was horrible. She did a lot of damage. Does her being in pain fix any of it? Is the world better because she's suffering? No. 

So I got where Sheila's coming from. And I appreciated that Grammy is able to show at least a little gratitude towards her and Jody for their efforts. 

Jody, who was previously portrayed as squeaky clean, turns out to have access to a shit-tonne of drugs because "he knows a lot of people from programs that end in the letter A". And... Yeah okay, I can believe he is and just never really got caught. He is at least using those powers for good to help a dying woman with her pain. 

We do get a nice moment where he explains why he doesn't drink because all the stupidest things he'd ever done were done drunk, which was a better character moment for him than we've really had so far. I liked it.

Frank, of course steals all Grammy's drugs, to the point of switching out her morphine drip while she sleeps. And thus Grammy writes him out of her will, effectively, by sending her remaining money to her other sons but not Frank. At least that was her stated motivation. Given how she's been with Frank all along, I doubt it would have taken much provocation.

On the way to post stuff and go to the Alibi to drink her pain away, Grammy tries to wheel herself in front of a bus. The bus stops in time and Jody rescues her, asking "was that on purpose?!" And... I don't know why but I liked that reaction. He's seen her at her very worst and can see that she's a woman that wouldn't be happy with that. There's no judgement in it, just a temperature check, and I liked that, and that she didn't lie in reply. It would have been a shit thing to do to an innocent bus driver, and it's a sad thing to want to end a life at all, and to have a healthcare system in general that isn't able to provide paid relief and dignity to dying people... 

Ugh, this plot line. It bugged me. Because assisted suicide plot lines are always going to bug me. Trying to write this is hard because my dislike of it is not about Grammy at all, or her situation. In the show it's fairly clear cut that she wants to end it. It's about all the situations that are superficially similar but where the dying person was coerced or manipulated or just felt like it was unfair to their living relatives that they were 'a burden' because that speaks to awful palliative care systems more than to any individuals. And... This is not the place for me to have that conversation with myself. 

So let's just go with... Sheila kills Grammy with Grammy's consent. And... Well now she has that in common with Frank, I guess?! 

The bit of this storyline that I felt did work was watching Sheila's admiration for Jody grow, and seeing them get closer. Like, I don't care about Sheila/Jody as a couple, any more than I cared about Jody/Karen. On balance, I'd prefer not having Karen's mother sleep with her husband, but it's meh on the Shameless scale. That said, this episode does a nice job of setting it up as something plausible and not shockingly left field. 

I guess I'll go on to Lip and Karen next. Karen has decided to give her child up for adoption, as long as she can get some cash out of it. She goes to a Catholic adoption agency and gets a "well done for choosing life" skeezy talk while the camera focuses on the Catholic imagery in the room. Not sure why, but okay. When she realises that they won't pay, Karen tries another adoption agency, this time not religious, but gets pretty much the same response. Lip asks questions about the parents they find, and I like that he is putting energy into caring where the kid ends up. Karen has become blasé and annoyed about the whole thing, which is a point of view I can understand but it's harder to sympathize with her being literally uncaring... Plus her motivations are so unreliable. This episode does have her saying she thought she loved Jody but doesn't, and thought she wanted a baby but doesn't. So perhaps her motivation is just that she's a teenager who really doesn't know what she wants. Which, again, understandable but hard to sympathize with in this context.

Anyway... They eventually get directed to a family lawyer who can set them up with rich wannabe parents who will pay for an "all-white American" baby (eeeeuuuuugggghhhh). Lip is a bit put-off by him but Karen is 100% on board with being paid to have a baby and even suggests she'll make it an annual activity. 

I dunno. I think I could get behind a lot of Karen's motivations if she was more consistently drawn. I never know what to make of Karen. I am fine with 'made a mistake', I'm fine with 'doesn't want a baby after all', and I'm even kind of fine with the mercenary attitude to adoption... It's just never really feeling like I've got Karen's number that makes it somewhat perplexing going through her storylines. And it's not that the acting is worse than the other characters... I feel like the writers just didn't get a proper handle on her, so a lot of this stuff just falls flat. 

Which is a shame because it takes up a lot of screen time and we are supposed to believe it drives Lip to... everything.

So the other half of Lip's storyline intersects with Fiona. She's covered with him at school for a week but is now insisting he goes back because he's the one they knew was capable! He was the one that had to succeed! He has to graduate high school. And they argue. And the argument is another good example of the way they've set Fiona up as the mother-sister. She argues like a sister, but the reason for the argument is very motherly. 

Lip is spiralling, and it's so hard to watch. Because it's about Karen and I also get the feeling it's very much not about Karen. It's about goals and ambitions that he doesn't have. It's about the weight of everyone's expectations. And it's actually a really nice contrast to Ian; Ian who works hard and wants and has goals that no one really expects him to meet... While Lip is nothing but potential and he doesn't want anything. A great point from South Side Rules was talking about Lip actively avoiding wanting things, and these episodes show that in a raw and highly self-destructive way. 

But. He eventually agrees to go back to high school if Fiona does. He is incredibly blasé about what this would mean for the whole family. What's stopping you Fiona? Well, maybe the fact that she's primary carer and breadwinner for a family of 6, Lip, you asshole. But she's game so she agrees.

The high school is a little less positive, though. A very negative admin person signs Lip up and tells Fiona what she's need to do before directing her to the GED instead, because it's "for quitters". And once again we have the complete lack of compassion from someone in the education system, and once again it's a black character and Shameless could we really just not? Please? I love so much about you it would be great if there weren't also these egregious moments. 

Fiona starts studying for her GED. Lip is annoyed that she's going for an equivalent and says he could get a GED too... Which is a fair argument to a point, except for all the ways in which even getting the GED would be tricky for Fiona who has been out of school for several years and, as previously mentioned, is the primary breadwinner for a family of six. Jesus, Lip, how I hate you sometimes. (I also love you, but ffs).

I do like that his argument doesn't solely revolve around Karen and the baby, though. Lip mostly assumes the baby's his on statistics, but he admits to Kev it might not be. I like that he has that conflict around whether it's his and whether he wants it to be, especially if Karen is giving it up for adoption. 

But the rest of this argument? I kind of felt it to my bones. Lip is the genius. The one who can succeed at school without trying. But why should he have to be the one to rescue everyone else? When Kev says he should enjoy being the smartest person in the room and then make a shit tonne of money so he can put everyone else through college, he said it from a good place as Kev does. But I get that Lip doesn't want that responsibility. Everyone is putting it on him as if he's a dead cert, but Lip doesn't know for sure that he can succeed in that way. Lip is far too cynical. And like so many talented kids who've been told they have a shit tonne of potential... He must feel that pressure and think "i might fail anyway, but I'll feel better about failing if I don't try". 

So that part of the argument I get. It's superbly performed as well; Fiona and Lip have a great argument at the end of the episode. "I'll pull my weight but I'm not going to be the golden goose" while Fiona is desperately trying to give him the chance she gave up so that he could have better. It's heartbreaking. One of the best scenes of the episode. Loved it. 

But Fiona gives a teenage boy an ultimatum. School or leave. And... Well even if Lip wasn't in full on destructo-spiral mode at this point that was a bad move. I get it; Fiona has good points, but they argue badly. They're both trying to win rather than get a point across. She's trying to enforce her will like a controlling parent when she's frequently relied on him as a partner in keeping the house going. It's so in character and real and raw, and they're both right and they're both wrong.

And Lip leaves. I kind of loved that it was Carl who chased after him, though it left a lot of questions about what Lip's relationship with Ian is looking like at this point. Don't think Ian and Lip interacted once in the episode because Ian kept running off to deal with his own plot. But Carl runs after him and shouts for him not to go while everyone else is reeling. Carl who rarely knows what's going on, but knows that this is bad.

Which is as good a way as any to segue into talking about Carl in this episode. Carl's place in this episode is to... Play (American) football at school. His coach got arrested (there is an actually pretty okay conversation about why people get upset about seeing penises, which kind of echoed back to the conversation they all had about Liam masturbating and at what age it becomes socially unacceptable to touch yourself in public). Anyway the team need a new coach. Ian can't. Lip won't. And then... Enter Jimmy Steve!! 

Ugh. 

Just briefly, the football side of this plot is fair enough, I'm sure kids Carl's age do that. But it's one of those things that they use for an episode then forget about entirely. Fiona "never misses a game" how? Literally how? How many games are there? I can't imagine how she would be able to see every one, even with the best intentions. She missed Debbie's fake birthday sleepover because her boss threatened to fire her if she didn't work; are we saying that Fiona in her precarious financial situation doesn't have that come up on the regular? But even if we imagine this is hyperbole, we never see Carl's practise or these games come up again. We never see them mention it. I always find it vaguely unsatisfying when these things are used as plot hinge points and then it just vanishes. Lazy writing. 

But anyway, before I move on to Jimmy I would like to call out two little Carl scenes:

First, where Carl entreats Debbie to hit him with a baseball bat with his helmet on to "strengthen his neck muscles" and she looks at him, at the bat, at Fiona, shrugs, and whacks him. Great character work from Debbie there. Loved it. Very siblings. 

Second, during the (American) football game (scrimmage? I know nothing about American football other than vague stuff I pick up from tv... It's just padded rugby) Carl tackles another kid and everyone cheers despite the fact that it looked like a really bad tackle and the presumably 10yo kid could have broken his neck. This was a very Shameless scene. We never find out what happens to that kid. Carl never faces any kind of consequence. It's just there. It just happens. I get that that is the shows schtick and I've made my peace with that, but... Yeah, I hope that kid was okay. 

Or maybe Carl got kicked off the team and that's why we never hear about it again. 🤔

Sigh. Fiona and Jimmy-Steve I guess. 

Jimmy is trying to wheedle his way back into Fiona's life. His wife, Estefania thinks Fiona is his cousin, so it's not that weird that he'd visit her with coffee and doughnuts and offer to drive the kids to school. (I would like to note here that Ian is already gone at this point. Ian still doesn't know that Steve is called Jimmy. This family really needs to have weekly meetings to catch each other up on their respective drama, but who has time for that?) So Fiona and Steve talk and bicker-flirt but not in a cute way. And Fiona is initially telling him to get lost, but then it becomes "take care of the woman wearing your wedding ring and we'll talk" which felt like giving too much ground because previously she'd said that that would still mean she couldn't trust him. But he takes the bone and runs with it.

Estefania is such a shittily written character. With her not speaking English. And Steve been so obnoxious towards her. Given how much character they gave Dottie for her two episodes, it feels almost intentionally grotesque that Estefania follows the "two designated character traits" school of character development. Her assigned traits being "physically attractive" and "always on the phone". Here we do see snippets of her conversations with someone where she makes assumptions about the Gallagher house being a crack den, and so... We're supposed to dislike her because she's judgemental about the Gallaghers? Maybe? I dunno. I'm more inclined to dislike Steve for the way he uses them all as pawns in his game to get Fiona back. Anyway, Estefania is clearly into someone else she's talking to. She must be incredibly lonely in a country where she doesn't speak much of the language and only has Steve, who seems to have no interest in learning Portuguese (or teaching her English, or treating her like a person) for company. But she's not given enough character development for us to care about her. It could have been done. It could have been done well, even. It wasn't. Alas, another thing we must mourn. 

Anyway, none of the Jimmy stuff is resolved in this episode. He is present when the big blow up with Lip and Fiona happens, but he gets told to butt out and does. Fiona's emotions are not really interrogated here.

Last little notes about Fiona... We have scenes of her studying for her GED and while it seems like she's not got everything down pat straight off, she's clearly putting some effort into studying, and V is adorably supportive and I loved that! I also liked when Kev and Lip are talking about it and Lip says she'll fail and he'll quit school in a week, there's a great exchange. "Fiona's smart!" "Yeah, but not school smart". That I liked. Because it's true that she's smart... Fiona is organised and is able to manage and balance loads of stuff. She can grift and con with the best when she needs to. She can lie smoothly and quickly pick up on social cues. But all we see of her school career is notes she made on Craig Heisner, her track running potential, and her failing two quiz questions in the GED prep paper. As someone who was very school smart but couldn't do what Fiona does... I liked that appreciation for different kinds of smart. 

Debbie doesn't do much this episode besides hit Carl and tease Jimmy. There are hints of her trying to get Jimmy to back off, like she's trying to protect Fiona, but it's low key. She also has a couple of moments of concern for Grammy where she wants to visit or bring her home and Fiona shuts her down. It was odd to me to have Grammy die at Sheila's without seeing the grandkids again... But I guess that's indicative of life having other plans. 

Kev and V appear in scenes with other characters and there's the thread continuing of them now trying to having a baby. But mostly they're just support in this episode.

So finally! The moment you've been waiting for (if you're still reading, which... Bless you). 

Ian and Mickey. And Frank, I suppose. 

As always, it's hard to interrogate how I would feel about these guys if not for Tumblr. I knew about Ian and Mickey before I knew about the rest of them. So obviously I'd tune into those scenes more. But, right, Ian and Mickey are favourites for a reason! Mickey got brought back when it wasn't planned because Cam and Noel had amazing chemistry and they found good stories to tell... They brought him back when it sometimes seemed like they didn't want to, because fans responded to them. 

So... It is incredible to me that Mickey was only in three season 2 episodes, and only two with Ian. Mind boggling. 

It means that, beyond the conversations we see in Summer Loving, we don't really know what stage Mickey and Ian's relationship is at. They're still fucking on the regular, it seems. Still working together at the Kash and Grab. But there's been no effort put into working out how Ian feels about Mickey or exploring how Mickey feels about Ian beyond the eye-fucking and longing looks at the dugouts and the brief casual chat at the store. Not really. We don't even know why Mickey turns up this episode with truly horrific facial hair. 

But he does. 

So we have Frank walking in through the back of the Kash and Grab and spying Ian and Mickey fucking in the back room. We see shock on their faces. Frank just sees them and is like "well clearly this is a situation I can use to my immediate gain" and he steals some groceries and money out of the cash register. Very Frank. Very short term. I think it's important that the only thing he says to them about it is "might wanna check the locks". He gives no shits! Blackmail doesn't occur to him. He doesn't even seem confused... There's no "I thought you were with the other Milkovich, the girl". It's just "oh I guess he does boys". I really really love it. Frank has no redeeming features per se, but homophobia doesn't occur to him and I like that the show made that point so very clearly through this episode. Because it's making this stark contrast between Frank "pick a gender, find somebody who wants to fuck. Preferably for free" and Terry... Who Mickey fears will literally kill him. 

There's even another moment later in the episode to underline this (aside from the one I just quoted) where Frank is doing drugs and watching Carl's football practice and makes a remark about the hot coach. When the guy he's with says it's a guy and Steve turns around to reveal his scruffy ferret beard, Frank just sort of shrugs. Hey ho. 

But back to Ian and Mickey. Because regardless of Frank's intentions, Mickey decides he needs to die. He makes plans. He is assuming Ian will be on board with this... Which does speak volumes (but maybe only because I've read enough meta). Mickey is saying "we" will kill him and dump his body. Ian says he'll talk to him and fix it. Mickey can't trust Frank and thus doesn't trust Ian in this instance. So he runs off.

Enter Iggy and Colin!! So... The brothers Milkovich aren't given much time over the series, and we don't even really ever find out which are brothers and which are cousins for sure... Though in this episode the subtitles call them "brother one" and "brother two" because they're never even named. But they get a couple of scenes. 

And either Mickey isn't thinking clearly or his brothers aren't as idiotic as the show (and/or fanfic) later paints them. Because Mickey wants to shoot Frank, but Colin points out that forensics makes that risky, and stabbing means too much blood. So they will kidnap and strangle. Colin's idea, not Mickey's. They gear up and the rest of the episode is the great Frank Hunt. It's a lovely call back to Mickey's first episode when he's hunting Ian... But has a much more sinister undertone. Because it's not just a beat down he's planning. 

The excuse he gives the brothers (who are on board way before they know this) is that Frank raped a girl. He gives no further details on screen. It's obviously tenuous. But at a later point where Mickey tries to go after Frank alone, his brothers say "we've got your back" in a way that's surprisingly sweet, and "we hate rapists too" which... Yeah, okay I'm sure. Like you didn't make a crack about what I presume were date rape drugs at a party earlier.

While Mickey is hunting, we have him go to the Gallagher house and get V's "dirtiest White boy in America" line. And he goes to the Alibi and we have a brilliant Kev scene! Frank is there but miraculously and conveniently heads to the toilets just before Mickey barges in asking for Frank. "Frank who?" Kev says without missing a beat. And points out two Franks in the bar and one who comes in regular before Mickey specifies Gallagher and Kev shunts him off to another bar... It's beautiful. Without missing a beat. Gorgeous lying, Kev. Excellent instincts to protect his clientele. He did this several times in the early seasons and it's amazing. 

Little aside about Frank here, because that scene was him at the Alibi talking about his mother punching him as a child in a way that sounds both nostalgic and bitter. It's impressively acted and horrible. There's another similar story later. And it's more of that "sympathise with Frank" stuff that is... Well acted, and on some level it hits. But he's still Frank.

While Mickey is hunting, Ian talks to Frank. Not because he cares about Frank but because he doesn't want Mickey to go to juvie. I enjoyed that emphasis, especially coming from Ian. Frank is too high to care and goes about his day. We do get the amazing "Jack Daniels and orange juice go together better than I expected" quote in the first of these scenes. As well as the one I already mentioned about finding someone to fuck in the second conversation.

Before the conclusion, we have one last scene with Ian and Mickey where Mickey realises that Ian warned Frank (but doesn't realise that Frank took absolutely no notice of him).  And it's the "done. Done. Done" scene. It's the "nothing but a warm mouth" scene. It's the 'how can Noel Fisher do that with just a couple of lines' scene. Because we see Mickey's fear, his conflict. That even while he's pushing Ian away in anger there's something else there for him. And we see Ian on the verge of tears and trying to stop him and not having words and... Uuuuuuugggggghhhh my heart. Babies.

Spoilers, Mickey does not shoot Frank. There's another masterclass face journey and he punches a cop. 

Bye bye Mickey, see you next season. 

(We. needed. more. early. Gallavich!!!!!!!)

So that's all for this ramble... Even though it wasn't actually that long ago it's hard to remember what I felt about season 2 when first watching it. I remember where I was when I watched this episode the first time... I think at that point i was at the peak of my puzzlement over why I was watching and wondering why it was so compelling. It was also when I got to binge a few episodes in a row or I might not have continued (I probably would have, let's be real, I knew the club kiss was ahead). 

I guess the problem in season 2 was the plot spends too long trying to make me care about things that I'm never going to love at the expense of things I already do. More Debbie and Carl, please. Much more Ian and Mickey. Less Karen and Jimmy-Steve. Much less Grammy and Frank. 

Season 2 was also trying to settle into the season long character arcs and ensemble feel more, and that means a lot of episodes left threads hanging or felt like set up for later stuff. 

But in the after-credit scene we see Frank go to Monica, and next episode is Hurricane Monica! Which, as I recall did amp things up again nicely!

[asher-writes]

Day 2: First.

Ship: April/Ember

WIP: The Poison Complex

Warnings: Ember Gets Stabbed. Post apocalypse sixteen-year-olds in job that are going to get them killed(?)

He's ridiculously pretty, April thought, the first time he met Ember. It, admittedly, shouldn't have been his first thought, given that the boy was bloodied and filthy on his operating table. There again, this is the same world where a sixteen-year-old was the closest thing to a surgeon available. And really, who could blame him? Even pale from blood loss, spattered with freckles and dirt, Ember was nothing short of a wonder to look at. All tan skin, lean muscle, and eventually - hours later - a lopsided grin that was just a little too cheeky. "You're a bit young, aren't ya?" He asked, words slurring in his attempt to appear calm. As if everything from April's hands to the wooden flooring wasn't stained with an attempt on his life. "You're alive aren't you?" April quipped back. "You're both the same age," Ari had grunted from the corner of the room, his arms folded, and a frown on his face. He hadn't been happy about any of it - from finding out Ember had gone and got himself stabbed, to April being the one to operate on him. "I'll get a drink." April didn't assume he meant coffee. He smelled of alcohol. "Get plenty of rest, take these pills, etcetera," he dropped a glass vial in Ember's hand. "Your bedside manner needs some work." "Oh yeah?" "Yeah," Ember gave a slight smirk, then closed his eyes, his breathing laboured by the pain, but his poker face was remarkable. "So you're the poisoner?" "Not for you, no." "Do you ever get them mixed up?" "No." April pulled a blanket over the boy, silently astounded by how well he'd taken to bleeding all over the place. It did not seem to be his first rodeo. "Do you ever mix them up on purpose?" April's lips twitched, his eyes narrowing at the papers on his desk. Paperwork. For the records. "Sometimes, when they keep asking me questions." Ember laughed, his teeth gritted for a brief moment, before the expression was replaced by that grin again. April thought briefly how pretty he looked when he was in pain, it offered some depth to him that the blankness of his feigned indifference refused to give. He moved over to the desk and grabbed the papers. The print was too small for him to do much with. "Can you read?" "Sure, I can." "Can you read this for me?" Ember nodded, tilting his head towards the papers as April held them out for him. "I understand it." "Can you tell me what it says." "For a price." April exhaled a laugh of disbelief. "I just saved your life." "Yeah but, I mean I would've been happy either way, I don't really get anything from it." "You little snake," he uttered, the keen interest widely visible in his voice. "What do you want?" "A kiss," Ember grinned. April's eyebrows raised, shaking his head, but his smile was something that couldn't be hidden. Though he rolled his eyes, Ember's seriousness pulled him closer. His hands were remarkably gentle for a man who didn't appear to know what gentle was. His fingers slid along his wrist, squeezing so slightly, yet the movement managed to knock the breath from April's lungs. He couldn't remember ever being touched that gently. He knows, somewhere, it's a trick that all men play. It's just not a trick he's ever received before. There again, it's not as if he'd raised a standard for it. "Please?" He fluttered his eyelashes. Unfortunately, he looked remarkably cute whilst doing so. April sighed, leaned forward and placed the softest, briefest kiss to his cheek. Ember's head turned and caught his lips sweetly. It was not what he'd expected, looking at the scars and rough skin and blood everywhere. He braced himself for his hair to be grabbed or for the grip on his wrist to turn bruising. But this never came. Ember pulled away with a grin. "Better than morphine," he sighed. "Pass me a pen, I'll fill this out for you." "Do you even know that you got stabbed?" He couldn't quite hide the wonder. He's used to patients that scream, or cry, or die in his arms and then say nothing at all, as dead people do. "Well, I was there for it."

[sweetfire01]

I know your big thing is yandere agere but I’m just melting over your take on daddy Simmy and Dada Didi and Luci 🥺🥺🥺

How would they comfort a little one who’s scared of needles? I’ve got to get some later this month and I’m in tears just thinking about it

.😭

Oh anon, it sound scaring! You have all my love and support.

And of course your dad's too. They know it's going to be very scary for you, so they'll hold you on their lap, your face pressed into their chest, while the doctors stick the needle into your skin. Ooh, they know it's bad, they know, it's okay to cry. Squeeze dad's shirt tight, focus on their hand stroking your hair and it'll be over in no time! Poor little thing, you're so scared. Hush, hush now, look, the doctor has finished! You were so good and brave!

Everyone's aftercare will also depend on the purpose of those needles: were they just for a vaccine/blood test, or were they for an IV or anesthesia? With surgery afterwards? In the first case, it means that you can go home immediately afterwards! Lucifer will hand you a bottle of milk AND CHOCOLATE! Your reward for being so good. You can drink it in your stroller on the way home. And once we get there, a nice nap in daddy's bed. How does this sound, little one? Bet you've already forgotten about the pain. Diavolo bounces you on his arms and showers your face with kisses, making you giggle. He praises you because you were even braver than the knights from the fairy tales he reads to you in the evening. And look what he brought you: a box of colored band-aid! And some even have cute animals drawn on them. Tell the doctor which one you want and he will put it over your wound. Simmy will cradle you in his arms, holding you close until you stop crying. His little lamb was so scared, huh? It's okay now, your daddy is here. Once you've calmed down, he'll lay you down in your pram, placing your favorite stuffie in your arms. Get some rest, baby, and when you get home, there'll be more cuddles, okay?

But if we're talking about some kind of anesthesia, oh dear, they can't even follow you into the operating room. But they won't leave you scared all alone! Absolutely not! They will request that you be given some type of tranquilizing drug, so that you can get to the operating room easier. Sure, they might put you to sleep with their own spell, but, honestly, they prefer to avoid complications with human medications. They don't want to risk you staying asleep hours after the surgery is over. Have you ever heard of those people who see "supernatural" things while they are comatose or something? Well, Simmy is able to appear into their dream and no one can change my mind. He would use this power to continue to stay by your side, stroking your hair and humming as you keep your head on his knees. And when you wake up what do you see? Just your daddy who looks at you smiling! The surgery is over, now it wasn't so bad, right? And he didn't leave you even for a moment, as he promised you! Luci and Didi would too, but they would need their powers and they don't think appearing in their demon form helps you much. They will just have to wait until the surgery is over. Oh, but of course once you wake up they'll give you all the attention they couldn't give you before! Obviously all 3 would use this position to their advantage: they'll put you in diapers because you don't really want to force yourself to get up and walk, do you? Just as you shouldn't have to strain yourself to grab cutlery and feed yourself! Open your mouth and let them spoon-feed you instead, even if you just had knee surgery and you're still able to use both your hands.

And maybe they can even mess with morphine and painkillers, just to make you a little more docile if you don't cooperate.

[kimberlyannharts]

Notes on Ranger Academy #1 -

= I think it would be easy to call this issue rushed, and it kind of is since we go from establishing Sage -> meeting Mathis and Tula -> meeting Rhianth -> Sage stowing away to Ranger Academy and entering Ranger Academy all in one issue, but I think it works as it's pretty obvious Sage is just sick of living on a miserable moon all by herself and jumped at the first opportunity to get away from it without thinking about it. Mathis sure was quick on the uptake to get her in, though - but I guess now we know their penchant for breaking rules comes from having Nadira as a mother.

= Tula, along with dropping the first hints that she was specifically looking for Rhianth (we'll learn in future issues that she "mistyped the coordinates" on purpose, though I don't think we ever see him referred to as "Rye" like she mutters here), has her first moment of "wait, what? He's your DAD?" in this, which I find super funny. She wants to ask Sage why she's white so bad

= Ranger Academy cadets get paralleled to knights here because they very obviously don't want to parallel them to cops. They are basically cops in this context though guys i'm sorry especially with the whole searching the galaxy specifically to recruit people.

= Mathis calling Merrick is such a blatant case of Early Installment Weirdness that I have to assume at this point that's a fellow cadet that just happened to be named Merrick rather than the Merrick we know from Wild Force. Besides the cadets not really talking to the alumni like that, Merrick is typically considered a Silver Ranger and thus not part of the Ranger Academy's whole "these five colors are the only colors that exist" thing. (Cruger's appearance in a later issue can be excused by how he can be counted as a Black Ranger.)

= Also no idea what they meant by "battling your inner Morphin beast." Worth noting that this line wasn't in the original FCBD printing of the issue:

= Calling Leo one of the great Red Rangers ever.............i guess. I feel the author just ended up picking him out of a hat lol

[blookmallow]

ok here is the Post Of Morbid Questions im trying to find answers for due to fallout ocs.... if anyone has any ideas or knows how to find answers on these let me know bc i have Not been successful

what might the Courier's bullet scar look like, and what longterm side effects might they be coping with after taking a bullet to the head

the game's answer to this seems to just be handwavy "stimpacks fixed it" since you don't visibly have a scar when the player character's face is visible, but i want my own designs to reflect that injury and i cannot find a clear answer on what it might look like. mostly it seems like they should've been missing a lot more skull than they were. best answer i could come up with for the side effects is that brain trauma can lead to memory loss, seizures, problems with impulse control/emotional regulation, vision problems, and a whole lot of other things. so ive tried to consider that for my new vegas characters. i havent really done much with anyone other than bonnie though. anyway my attempts at researching this mostly have come up with "you'd just be dead" but what if you DIDN'T dead, though. what happens then

also, as a sidenote question, would it be possible that doc mitchell (i keep calling him doc marten. why am i doing this. stop it) could have extracted the bullet intact enough for the courier to keep it. i want bonnie to have it on a necklace but i cant get a clear answer on that either

2. how exactly would chems work / how would it affect them

i dont really know anything about real world drugs so im not really sure how to approach this subject. i know a little about how addiction and withdrawal works, but not much other than vague awareness of how people act when high on weed, and lsd makes you hallucinate. i dont really know what it feels like, why someone might use them, what longterm effects it might have

i learned med-x is pretty much just morphine, which is intended as a pain killer, also apparently can cause "feelings of euphoria," so that sounds like it would be a very likely addiction in the wasteland. makes it all hurt less. makes you feel good. i think initially taking it for pain (justifiable, it is medicine, after all) and then developing an addiction would be an easy trap for wastelanders to fall into. i think both my fallout 4 protags would be susceptible to this especially if they hang around hancock and get talked into it

psycho seems to cause some kind of... berserker mode mind break, so it makes sense that would be popular with raiders, but im not sure why you'd want to use it otherwise. just sounds like a great way to get yourself killed to me. i never use it in-game so im not really sure what its for

as far as i can tell buffout is just steroids, so. desire to be strong/push yourself to the limit/unbeatable is obvious living in wasteland conditions

mentats seem to be like. adderoll, or something? increased focus and cognition. im not sure why hancock uses them, though. he's told me it's his favorite ("makes me feel intellectual") but im not really sure what recreational purpose that serves if he's not using them to focus on tasks or something. i think im not fully understanding what these do. i think it makes sense for my courier, struggling with cognitive damage after the head injury, to use them pretty regularly though (and new vegas gives you a lot of situations where you can use them to help pass intelligence/perception checks so i Do use them)

jet is the one i really dont understand. i see this one a Lot with in-game chem addicts/find them all over the place in raider drug dens so it's clearly popular but i do not understand what it does. game mechanics-wise it functions to make time appear to slow down, but i don't know why you would want that outside of a combat situation where you need to be able to react fast. the wiki says it also provides a rush/high, i suppose. could just be that it's the easiest to get your hands on

it's also made from fertilizer. so there's that. no one talks about that and i dont know why

3. what changes or long-term effects would the vault 111 survivor have after being frozen for so long

i cant find anything on this and i guess it's probably due to "we don't know" since that kind of cryogenic technology doesn't really exist in the real world. we've never frozen someone for 200 years and then let them out again. the game doesn't acknowledge this having any effect on them at all, and i just can't believe there wouldn't be something. what's preventing them from going into shock and just dying of hypothermia / extreme frostbite. i dont really understand the science of how cryostasis would work. even if we just accept "it just works" i still feel like there should be some kind of longterm side effects. nerve damage, maybe? i think ruby (my first fallout 4 protag) at least has some trauma around feeling too cold or feeling like she can't move. cryo mines/grenades probably fuck her up.

4. follow up question, the absolute most SPECIFIC one i cannot figure out to save my life: if someone were to have an open wound, and then suddenly enter cryostasis for, say, several hundred years, what would happen

i ask this because i think lucas (my second fallout 4 oc) would have reacted violently to his wife's murder. he would have been fighting to get out of that pod until he was bleeding and it wouldn't even have slowed him down. i think he severely fucked up his hands, and then immediately got frozen again. so my question is, what would that do

if we can assume cryostasis does not cause frostbite damage to normal tissue, would it also not damage open/exposed tissue? or would the ice soak in and destroy the cells in that part of your skin. would you just unfreeze and it would resume bleeding again like it just happened seconds ago? would it heal while it was frozen?

my best guess is that it would sort of... heal wrong, like a poorly set broken bone (and if he broke his fingers, it certainly would have) or get infected, at least. i want to say whatever happened caused him to lose a few fingers but i cannot figure out if that's viable or not. i like the image of him stumbling out of the vault confused and angry and broken with several dead fingers he now has to find a way to cut off. i want lucas doing horrendously ill-advised surgery on himself to be a recurring theme

[constellationandcompendium]

ROYGBP

Thanks for the tag @theeccentricraven!

Rules: Search your writing for the colors of the rainbow and post the excerpt.

These are all from It All Falls Down, my chaotic spy/thriller with cyberpunk themes (which is very much still a first drat!)

Please note: these excerpts includes references to drug use and addiction.

Red - so, Sebastian's daughter is an adrenaline junkie in the making and Elias has a motorcycle.

“Look it’s fine, really, I’m not getting anywhere with this.” Sebastian sighed. “If you’re sure.” “And I’ve got to maintain my position as favourite honorary uncle somehow.” That earned him a smile. “Fair enough.” Elias shut down everything carefully, deleting any remaining evidence of his activities from the server. When he stood, it was to chorus of cracks from his back that made Sebastian wince in sympathy. He was regretting not running through the stretches after their bout earlier, he wasn’t a young man anymore. Grabbing his coat and the small, bright red helmet that lived at the bottom of his locker for precisely one purpose gave him a chance to stretch the sore muscles out further. Then Sebastian caught sight of the object in his hands and groaned. “You should have thought of that before you agreed,” Elias said, swinging the straps between his fingers and revelling in the disgruntled sounds his colleague was making. “I hate you,” Sebastian grumbled. “No you don’t,” Elias called back as he left.

Orange - in which Elias battles a gunshot wound

Flipping the catches open, the first aid box fell open and he fumbled through the packets one handed, pressing the other against his side in a vain attempt to apply pressure. Fighting against the light-headedness that was making itself known, his mouth formed the words of half-remembered prayers. His fingers closed around a familiarly shaped package with a spongy texture and he could only hope that the Buearu had kept their stocks up to date. There was morphine too, but he didn’t want to have to resort to that unless he had no other choice so he kept digging. There, right at the bottom of the bag, was a wrapped syringe identified as a painkiller by the standard orange label. Although it took his eyes a second to focus on it, he was relieved to see that it was one of the non-narcotics. Hardly strong or long lasting but it would have to do.

Yellow - featuring Sebastian experiencing life in the Undercity

Sebastian waited for his partner to take a few more drags before he pocketed the lighter and move to lean against the rail beside him, gaze fixed on the lights illuminating the square in a clashing mixture of bright neons and the dull yellow of simulated dusk. “Better?” he finally asked. “Not really,” Elias said with another puff. Sebastian tracked the progress of the lit cigarette out of the corner of his eye, “Should you really be smoking so soon after a Res shot?” “Probably not,” Elias admitted, examining the smoking bundle of chemicals in his hand. Though, Sebastian mused, it was hardly as though one more drug in the messy cocktail that was his partner's bloodstream was going to kill him, at least not straight away.

Green - from chapter one, Elias meets the spooks of the Bureau

“Sure, my office is out the back.” He indicated over his shoulder at the doors behind him, distinct only from the other entrances and exits by the small ‘staff only’ sign illuminated in flickering green. “Excellent,” Hugo replied, gesturing for Elias to lead the way. His office wasn’t much to look at; it was hardly nicer than the rest of the gym. It wasn’t run-down, exactly, but much like the building itself it had the tired, worn, and rain-damaged look that characterised the area close to the storm.

Blue - in the Undercity, Elias is confronted with his past

They were approaching another intersection, passing through a section of what Elias hoped were residences when it happened. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted a kid, barely a teenager by the looks of things, slumped in one of the alleyways between the buildings with a tube of blue tinted liquid lying partially under his limp hand. It was Haze. Strange, how easily the hold it had on him returned. He hadn't been confronted with his one true vice since his departure from the Undercity, but down here he really should have been better prepared to see it. Elias felt himself stop dead in the street, distantly, as though it were happening to another person. There was a ringing in his ears.

Purple - introducing Shiloh!

“You ran a gang and then a smuggling ring out of an old industrial container?” Sebastian asked with a tone of bemused admiration. “Correction,” an lilting voice joined the conversation from a walkway above their heads, “we still run a smuggling ring out of an old industrial container.” Elias turned to meet the interloper with a smile, a warm feeling blossoming in his chest. Walking down from the office above was a woman with cropped black hair, a variety of concealed and not-so-concealed weapons, tattoos a-plenty, and an expression like stone. A responding smile cracked her stern face as she approached, and then her arms were opening in welcome. “Shiloh,” he greeted as they embraced. “Al-Karim,” she replied, pulling back to look him up and down, eyes catching on the barely healed cuts and bruises, and on the deep purple shadows under his eyes, “what on Sol happened to you?” “It’s a long story.”

Open tag for anyone who fancies it and a gentle no-pressure tag for @nettleandthorne and some of my new followers @kaylinamaes and @wmlittlemore-is-writing!

[alt-billy]

Memories...They Never Die (Ch. 2)

CHAPTER 2: THE DREAM

Billy felt like he was in his old bedroom, watching his younger self answer Zordon’s call. He remembered that AIM chat with Dex fondly—it was one of many from the first month or so since they parted ways on Edenoi.

The younger Billy clicked off his monitor, took one last look at his IM with Dex, then whisked away in blue light. Older Billy winced, now just realizing this wasn’t some stray memory.

“Wait…how…am I really here?”

His voice seemingly echoed, his eyes peering down to see his arms aglow in pale blue light. Billy was in fact standing in his old bedroom. All the familiar feelings he felt in 1995 rushed back—feelings of butterflies, sadness, hope, and even shame. It was fleeting, because in a blink of an eye, a flash of light washed over Billy, returning him to SPD command.

“What in the actual f—“

Billy stopped, his head suddenly woozy. Grabbing the side of the console, he knelt to center his gravity, trying in vain to read whatever flashed on screen. It must have pertained to the phenomenon that just occurred, but it didn’t matter. Billy fainted.

*********

The slow beep of medical equipment welcomed Billy back. His eyes slowly opened, focusing where Dr. Felix stood nearby. The cat humanoid looked up from his slate and noticed his patient had awaken.

“Only out for an hour,” Dr. Felix said, knowing Billy was about to ask.

“Oh. And wh—?”

“Central Command, Dr. Cranston.”

Billy sat up in his hospital bed, his head foggy.

“Dr. Manx is away from base at the moment, but she’s been briefed on the situation,” Dr. Felix said tapping his slate, then spinning it around for Billy. “Take it. She left a video for you.”

Billy accepted the slate. Dr. Felix then promptly exited the hospital room, shutting the door behind him. What could be so urgent that a video message was needed? Billy tapped Play.

“Dr. Cranston, my apologies for the impersonal nature of this message,” Kat began as her face came into view in what appeared to be a selfie video. “I have a meeting off-campus, but I wanted to ensure you we are looking in to what happened.”

Kat looked around to confirm she was alone, then continued in a more hushed tone.

“But unofficially, someone or something gave you more than Read access to our network.”

Billy’s heart sunk, the foreboding feeling tightening.

“If I had to guess, you were given direct access to the Morphing Grid, but only temporarily,” Kat theorized. “When I get back, I want to ask you some more questions. But…do me a favor, Billy.” A brief pause. “Just…trust your gut. Always. No matter what.”

“Well that wasn’t ominous,” Billy thought tossing the slate aside.

Swinging his legs out of bed, Billy stood in his hospital ground. Who gave him access to the Grid, and for what purpose? Could it have been the Morphin’ Masters his Cosmic Fury friends encountered? Zayto? Without answers, none of this made sense.

Not bothering to wait for Dr. Felix, Billy threw off his hospital gown and grabbed his clothes from the nearby chair. He quickly changed and dashed down the hall, hoping to go unnoticed as he located the nearest elevator. He pressed the down button repeatedly, almost feeling panicked from all his queries.  The wait for the elevator seemed forever, but it came. The doors slid open, and Billy began to step in, only to hit the brakes before running chest first into another man.

“I’m s-sorry, sir” Billy said turning to hit close on the elevator.

“It’s okay, Billy,” the man said.

The voice. It was familiar. Billy froze, then slowly turned to see. It was indeed Dex.  A gold-trim white tunic adorned the handsome prince, the same one his predecessors have worn for millennia. His black hair was curlier than Billy remembered, a single curl draped down the center of his forehead.

Fuck…

Edenities age far slower than Earthlings, so Dex appeared timeless, while Billy appeared older in contrast.

“Billy, it’s gonna be fine.” Dex said reaching out his hand, connecting his with Billy’s.

Chills…

“Dex, I…what’s happening? None of this is making sense. How—” Billy said with welling eyes.

Dex interjected.

“It will all make sense soon,” he said placing his other hand on the back of Billy’s neck. “Just trust your gut.”

That comment again.

“Trust wh—“

Billy got cut short, his reality shifting once again in a blast of light. The light withdrew and his eyes opened slowly, revealing himself in bed inside his SPD guest quarters. Billy was twisted in his sheets, his body warm and sweaty from what appeared to be another nightmare…within a nightmare? This wasn’t the first, and they were becoming more vivid, more worrisome.

Billy grabbed his iPhone to check the date and time. It was the day after Kat gave him the news about the Eltarian energy. Was that the only real thing that happened yesterday? And when did things go off the rails and turn to fantasy? Billy sat up in bed and reached for his SPD slate. An unread message notification was sitting on top of many others. It was from Kat, to which Billy tapped.

“GM! Let me know if you’re free for lunch later so we can talk about your findings.”

Well, that settles that. Billy did in fact get access. Was it the espresso martinis authoring the other events, again, he wondered? Billy did love a nightcap…or three.

“I’ll fill you in. I’ll put time on your calendar,” Billy typed back.

The 47-year-old got out of bed and shuffled over to the in-suite bathroom. He flicked on the light before standing over the toilet for his morning piss. A few moments of quiet, blissful. Billy peered at the mirror at right, observing his half naked body.

“It ain’t what it used to be…”

The six-pack abs of his youth were replaced with a standard issue dad bod; not quite out of shape, but the upkeep wasn’t up-keeping because life was, well, lifing. The time to dedicate to oneself care was limited, especially now with SPD’s recovery efforts. His Ranger family, even the ones he never worked with directly, would always outrank everything; his own company included.

Billy’s entire life was driven by Rangerhood. His brief time spent with Cosmic Fury brought him back after a long absence, but even in his hiatus, almost everything was in service to what defined his existence. Cranston Tech’s secret underground Power Chamber allowed Billy to remain in contact with Ranger allies across the universe, and it allowed him to do research that government regulations would otherwise obstruct.

Billy kept in regular contact with the Aquitans, the fish-humanoid hybrids responsible for saving his life decades ago. He also kept tabs on Triforia, home of King Trey, the Gold Zeo Rannger. And of course, there was SPD personnel all over. But last, and certainly not least, his oldest non-human friend: the great Bookalah.

However, one particular planet Billy had not heard from in some time, and by choice, was Edenoi.

“Stop it, man,” Billy muttered to himself, shaking his thing to get the last drops out. “He’s not thinking about you…don’t embarrass yourself.”

Billy said that numerous times over the years, but it never helped much. Dex lived rent-free in his mind, but what helped keep the prince off of it was work and exercise, the latter Billy was slacking on. Touching his small pooch with both hands, Billy decided today was a good day to hit the gym.

*********

“Spot me, bro.”

The strong voice was that of B-squad leader Sky Tate. Above him was second-in-command Bridge Carson. Sky was bench-pressing, a routine taken more seriously in since his promotion to Red. He wanted to beef up, and the results were showing. Sky and his growing physique were the talk of the Academy.

“You’re doing great, man,” Bridge said standing over his friend and leader. “You’re at 20 already.”

Sky was already pressing 275, with his goal of 300 in striking distance. As the set went on, the gym doors slid open. Billy entered, catching Bridge’s attention.

“Good morning, Dr. Cranston,” Officer Carson said with the SPD salute.

Billy half-heartedly returned the salute, knowing the gesture was merely sarcastic between the two. He really liked the newest Blue Ranger.

“Morning, guys,” Billy said making his way to the mats for a stretch.

“30? What’s the count?” Sky asked through gritted teeth.

“Uhh,” Bridge said refocusing on the task, realizing he lost count. “Yeah…sure. 30 sounds right.”

“Bridge! You had one job!” Sky yelled, struggling to re-rack the barbell.

Bridge assisted him. “Well, technically two, if you count counting,” he said with a weaselly grin.

Sky tossed his sweat rag at Bridge’s face before turning his attention to Billy to give a proper SPD salute.

“Good morning, Dr. Cranston. How are you this fine morning?” Sky asked.

“I’m okay,” Billy said getting into cobra-pose. “How are you today, Officer Tate?”

“I’m well, sir. Thank you for asking, and thank you by the way for the upgrades to all our SWAT Flyers. Your work is proving invaluable to…”

Sky droned on, as Billy was only half-listening to the prattling and ass-kissing.

“Very good, Tate,” Billy interrupted. “Your gratitude is appreciated.”

“If love gratitude, I’m making my world-famous sourdough toast after we bounce, Doc. In case you haven’t heard, it’s—“

“Buttery,” Sky cut in. “Give it a rest, Bridge.”

“No! I was gonna say I now offer my homemade avocado spread as a second option. So, it’s avocadoey…or buttery, depending on your preference.”

The boys’ quibbling amused Billy. The commodore reminded him of the early Mighty Morphin’ days. Billy saw a bit of Zack in Bridge, and a bit of Jason in Sky. Thinking now of his entire team, Billy tried to recount his dream where he stood and bore witness to his younger self. What monster of the day was teen Billy off to face? And which era was it: pre-Katherine or post-Kim?

1995 was a wild year for the Power Rangers. There were new Ninja powers, two Megazords, and another original member departed. After Kim resigned to go train for the Pan Globals, it was just Billy left from the fab five, though he considered Tommy more or less an OG, But that first era before Green Ranger...damn. In those first two years, Billy rapidly changed: his body and fighting skills grew, and his interests in science turned to the stars above.

And though his Ranger duties, and its friendships, occupied much of his best years, Billy never felt more alone. Perhaps outer space, and looking for meaning in the infinite void, was a metaphor. Billy’s mind stayed awhile in 1995.

*********

“Miss Chief battle data has completed upload.”

“Thank you, Billy. I am also pleased to report all Ninjazords are back to full charge.”

The voice was that of Alpha 5, the Command Center’s resident robot and the only link between Billy and the Prince. Ever since the Rangers’ visit to Edenoi, Alpha’s home planet remained closely monitored as the resistance against Dregon continued.

It was early evening, and the night sky above the Command Center was all but set. Younger Billy had teleported on Zordon’s request, but not because trouble was afoot. It was post-trouble, the admin end of things. Billy loved this part after a monster’s defeat—Miss Chief being the newest loser to get an entry in the Command Center database.

Miss Chief was an alien closely resembling a fire chief. And mischief she caused, having cast love spells on Kim and a few others. The timing was interesting, as it was the same week of the Junior Police Ball. The ball was a youth dance raising money for the program and other local causes, so naturally, Billy thought about a date. His past experience with girls, though better than expected, yielded poor results.

There was Marge, a brainy teen he ran into at Ernie’s, who ended up in the crosshairs of Madam Woe, but their chemistry fizzled. Then came Laura a year later, a friend of Kim’s. That too tanked. Then there was Tamara from the World Teen Summit, who represented Israel. Their one and only date ended poorly after Tamara made disparaging remarks about the Oslo Accords, a pair of interim agreements between Israel and the Palestine Liberation Organization.

Thankfully, logging post-fight data allowed him to procrastinate on finding a date to the dance. The activity also allowed Billy to ask anything to Zordon and Alpha, to take in everything about the cosmos, other heroes, and Zordon’s tales of Eltar. During the first year following Rita’s escape, Alpha 5 worked alone logging data. But at some point, Billy lent a hand to his robotic friend, expressing his want to become another assistant for the time-trapped mentor.

Blue Ranger also desired to become more intimate with the technology that surveilled the universe around them. It allowed him to become a master of sorts of the Command Center and all its hidden secrets, some his own team wasn’t privy to. The Ranger base was dead quiet, the usual dance of console lights now still and dim. Even Zordon had de-energized for the evening, leaving Alpha alone with Billy.

“So, Alpha, got plans tonight?”

It was the same question Billy asked every session. It always tickled Alpha, and the robot always had a different answer for his make-believe life.

“I do! Me and the Mrs. are headed to the Kennedy to hear the Chili’s Baby Back Ribs Choir! Ay yi yi!”

“Oh?” Billy laughed. “Big fan?”

“The biggest. I so want to try those baby back ribs, but alas, I cannot.”

“Ha. Maybe someday.”

“How about you, Billy? Any plans?”

“Well,” the teen started, knowing there was something coming up. “There is a dance happening tomorrow…the Junior Police Ball.”

“A dance! Oh, I’m so jealous! I still practice my dance moves from time-to-time!”

Alpha started to bust a move, uncoordinated as ever. Billy loved seeing the more personable side of Alpha 5. He was more than some fully sentient, multi-functional automaton. Alpha was a real friend who loved to dance, adopt American teen vernacular, and talk pop culture, just like…Dex.

“You Edenites sure know how to party, huh?” Billy said half-paying attention.

Alpha dancing was the perfect distraction for what Billy actually wanted to get done. Sure, the post-battle write-ups were important, but it provided perfect cover. Billy worked fast to ensure his teleporting could not be tracked by Zordon and Alpha. In doing so, getting a hang with Dex would not require a hard-to-explain road trip. He was now just a teleport away from learning Edenese, and whatever else, from Prince Dex.