#...unless you break their regulators...

[yanban-san]

if it's not a bother,

could you show some more artwork of yours?

-a person who loves others art🩵

Sure! I've been doing a few sketches of some Android-mas (Yandroids, courtesy of Stardust on Ro's Discord <3) over on Discord- I'll share em here though. ^^

Here's the first one, I got bored when I got the legs lol:

Here's the second attempt- I once again got bored when I got to the legs but not too much

I saw some art of Android Ingo and Emmet with screen display faces and tbh that's my absolute favorite kind of "face" for any robot character- LED screens are really fun and cute looking, imo.

Some Headcanons about the Android boys: ◮ These two are bio-electric androids, rather than straight up machines. They're half synthetic cellular construct, half AI-powered battle machine- And beloved by the public as unofficial heroes and mascots of Android tech. ◮ They are completely autonomous, and can function for years without maintenance- They are self repairing, self fueling, and they were also some of the first androids ever released before someone realized it was a bad idea to give your lethal autonomous AI bots the ability to self-sustain. ◮ They have two "cores" that power their bodies- A biological core, much like a "heart", that supplies their biological functions with fuel, and a power core that provides them with all the power they need for their mechanical functions- They can also use their power core to power other machinery, or give themselves a super-boost in combat if needed. The bio-core is a biological hazard and contains chemicals known to the town of Undella to cause not just regular cancer, but probably Super Android Cancer- Luckily no one's trying to eat them or rub their eyeballs on their hearts. Their power cores, on the other hand, are radiation hazards when exposed- And protected by thick metal and polymer plating to prevent leaks.

◮ They are battle Androids, designed to protect interstellar transit routes or regular passenger transit- Protecting passengers is how they ended up becoming heroes as people recorded their battles against rogue drones and other threats.

◮ They have nanobots- Innumerable armies of miniscule robots inside of them that repair any broken pieces, heal/repair/grow any synthetic cells, or even specialized attack bots that dissolve any foreign materials in their bodies- Or outside. They also come equipped with the ability to synthesize human/pokemon medic bots to stabilize any injured passengers- And they can control their nanobots, as well.

◮ Androids have an extremely long list of precepts and codes they have to follow- If they attempt to disobey their precepts, their bodies literally stop working. Most precepts were things along the lines of the Three Laws of Robotics, but more and more kept being added with various legal cases and lawsuits and eventually P.R cases and public safety. ◮ They have regulators that prevent their synthetic neurons and other biological functions from acting on any... organic urges they might have, despite their genetically engineered origins. Sure would be bad if those broke, wouldn't it?

◮ Their LCD screen displays can make various emoticons for them to convey their meanings- Ingo and Emmet also use their signature triangle smiles to help differentiate the two for maintenance crews and the public.

◮ Also! Forgot to add, their limbs aren't attached to their body normally- They can launch them like drones at targets or grapple things from afar, and they can pull themselves to their limbs if needed.

And finally, some emoticon displays:

[libraford]

I've been thinking about the proposed gender transition regulations (ohio) because it paints a strange painting about what it's like to be a young queer American.

At the same time that they're trying to increase the restrictions of HRT and surgery to 21, they are trying to lower the working age and increase their hours past 30, deny them lunch breaks. Moms for Liberty (now calling themselves Awake Americans) are trying to remove queer content from schools, claiming that it's pornographic. They're practically adults when you're using them in the workforce, but children when they want to learn and children when they want to be happy.

You can enlist in the military at 18. You can get a tattoo at 18. You can get your nipples pierced at 18. You can work an exploitative job at 18. You can buy pornography at 18. Vote at 18. Gamble at 18. Get married at 18. Get cosmetic surgery at 18 (unless you're trans.) You can drink and smoke legally at 21 without 6 months of therapy and the approval of a board certified psychologist, endocrinologist, and one of three medical ethicists in the state.

But you can't transition. Because the state thinks that you're too young and don't know yourself well enough to make that decision, but it will let you die in a war.

The comment period for this rule change ends January 19th at 5pm. Send an email to mh-sot-rules@mha.ohio.gov with the title "Comments in Gender Transition Care Rules" and tell them how the new rules would impact your life or the lives of those around you.

[ririblogsss]

I have found inspiration to write :).

The flash for the fist time in forever stop moving. No twitching. NO moving his leg up and down. No running back and forward to the cafeteria for snacks. He was completely still with his jaw open looking past Batman who at the moment was giving the league members an overview of the missions that have been happening within the past month. Immediately everyone locked in, Flash not moving major red flag. Batman caught it first and proceeded to turn around in a split of a second and froze (caught of guard) this caused the other league members to slowly turn their heads and eyes away from starring at the Flash. And they couldn't believe their eyes.

Superman had his jaw dropped.

Flash was pointing and unable to form words the only sound escaping his mouth was vocals "aa" "ee" he was over all gobsmacked.

Not like the other leagues were fairing any better. It's just that their eyes could not make their brain correctly process what they were seeing. And what they were currently seeing was a teenager with white hair with a box of donuts and drinking something out of a coffee cup. Now this is the watchtower everyone has seen teenagers from various backgrounds to say the least enjoy their coffee and snacks. That wasn't the problem. The problem was that the teen wasn't one of theirs. Not that it really matters Batman.

What actually matters is that the kids outside. IN SPACE. How is he surviving. How isn't he dead? Is he an alien? Then why is the box of donuts from earth?

And the kid has the gull to smile sheepishly?????

---

Danny only wanted help. HE SWEARSS. And the Justice League wasn't helping after they had been spammed with calls for help against the Ghosts. Amity parkers think that the JL has banned them from making calls. So Danny decided if they won't come. He will go to them, but his parents did not raise a disrespectful child the Fentons maybe break tax laws and driving laws and overall all OSHA regulations. BUT THEY NEVER DISRESPECT (unless warranted) ANYBODY. And Danny wasn't about to misrepresent them. So he brought a box of donuts and his fathers homemade fudge in hopes to make some sort of slightly good impression.

So taking a breath in (as a force of habit) he knocked on the watchtowers window and didn't become intangible and go in until Wonder Woman nodded with her head yes.

Batman was side-eying WW, but Danny decided that Wonder Woman had more decision power in this instance.

So with the approval that he may come in Danny made himself (and everything else) intangible so he could enter. Once inside he realize that Jazz had been correct in telling him to at least know how he was going to approach the subject.

He placed the treats on the table and made a gesture that they could eat. He took a sip of his hot ecto and then he opened his mouth.

"Why are you guys hunting us down for sport? w-we are people too"

Danny said it in such a broken voice with teary eyes. He really should have practiced first.

The JL choked.

[evilminji]

Actually? WOULD Earth be the ones to petition Oa?

They are interstellar Space Interpol. You don't usually call them on different parts of your OWN settlements or systems. You call them in when someone is breaking THE Laws. Not necessarily YOUR laws, though obviously by breaking THE laws they clearly ARE. But THE Big Laws(tm).

Like Geneva Convention for Space type laws.

You have discovered Planet or King X is committing WAR CRIMES. Call Oa. Tax fraud? That's an inter-personal planet side issue they can't help you with. Pointing Nukes at your nursery settlement and threatening to blow up the infants there unless you give them sex-slaves?

Knock-knock! Taste HARD Light Constructs!

But if so? Then how would the situation get so out of hand on Earth? With the G.I.W.? Simple. Tell me, Mr. President, what do you know of the current day to day life of villagers in rural Siberia?

That they exist? Could you even NAME their village, if I referenced specific individuals? Likely not. And no one would realistically expect you too.

There are countless planets out there! With Leaders busy with local industrial conferences and infrastructure bills. Farming regulations. Talks with that planet a few stars over. Very busy. What do THEY know of Earth? Why would they NEED too?

But! As we know, Ectoplasm is EVERYWHERE. Not just earth. And? Thin spots are not just an Earth-centric phenomenon. Other planets most CERTAINLY would have them too. And depending on the species? The culture? To quote the wise sage Bill Wurtz "you can make a religion out of this!"

After all, chosen few, returned from death... glowing and more powerful then before? Immortal? It's a pretty reasonable conclusion to come too. They are clearly Gods Touched. Some sacred task they must complete.

It would likely even shape the ghosts of the region themselves. After all, they TOO, would believe they were chosen for some Important Religious Task. Be it study or collecting rocks. To what end? Unknown. Who are they to question The Gods?

But! Oh happy day! The old tyrant is no more! A chosen Hero! They go to greet him! Honor him, as you do. Traditional gifts and ballads. Maybe some sacred rocks. A fancy hat. But? Oh? The Champion is wounded! Gasp! Still? But the fight with Pariah happened-

And then they are given Grave Warning(tm). Don't go to Earth. Heretics attacking people. KILLING souls! Trying to KILL the king of all the Infinite! He is somber because his living parents were hurt. Preventing the END OF ALL THINGS!!!??

WHAT!?

These "People In White" tried to EXPLODE the very FABRIC of all realities!? Several of them faint. Truely, these Fentons MUST be chosen by the Gods! Heros. Legends. Such bravery in the face of such HORRORS. Please, let them be brought to their Living counterparts! The hospitals are quite good!

And you know what? Fuck it. Danny will take that. Because his Mom n Dad got hurt. BAD.

They learned he was Phantom at probably the SINGLE worst time imaginable and still chose HIM. Chose THEM. The GIW were coming for him. Gonna hurt Jazz. And his parents told them, with fire and blood, it'd be a cold day in hell before they let them so much as TRY it.

They BLEW UP their own life's work. Went literally scorched earth. And now? They're not doing so good.

Because the Zone isn't made for the living. No food, no water, and no real human-safe medical supplies. They've run out. Danny will take what he can get. He'd even go to Vlad but... his Portal's gone too. And the Buzzards said he looked... spirally. Very... "suicide runs until everything BURNS".

So, yeah. No one's doing so great.

Alien planet it is.

They are greeted with fanfare and respect. The best medical teams on the PLANET. The King and his family is there, to welcome him. It's... it's beautiful. Hardly some perfect utopia, but the air is lite. Art everywhere. The stars vivid and so easy to see, at night.

The King kinda reminds him of Mr. Lancer to be honest. Balding and a bit round around the middle, stern but endlessly fair about it, wants people to do their best and succeed in life. Maybe that's why Danny finds himself opening up. Because... because here is a real, honest to God, KING king.

Somebody who was actually TRAINED to do all this King stuff.

Unlike Danny.

And Danny? He's scared. People expect him to Lead now. To know what he's doing. To somehow just... suddenly KNOW how to do all these things he's never even heard about. He only barely just died. Has BARELY been keeping everybody safe.

BARELY stopped Pariah.

He doesn't know what to do. But he pours his guts out. All the things that have bottled up. And King Not-Lancer listens. Somber and thoughtful. There is little, if anything he can TRUELY do to help. But... there ARE things he can do. Lessons on statescraft, while he's here, for one.

As for the other? Well, as King, he does have the local Lantern's Call Sign. Not to be used lightly, mind you. But what Danny describes? And from what the Sacred Ones have reported? THAT must be reported to Oa. He can show Danny how to do that.

(He does)

[The Lanterns of Earth get a VERY exciting call from Oa. Are every different shade of pissed. But? Whoops! Looks like they ACCIDENTALLY put the Watchtower into a complete Quarantine! Well, dang. Guess we're all stuck here for two weeks!

Reset it? *sound of smashing computer terminal* Yeah, don't think that's gonna work! :)

WHO WANTS TO PLAY 20 QUESTIONS?? We'll start! :) Who here has heard of an organization called, and I quote, The Ghost Investigation Ward? :) ]

@hdgnj @ailithnight @nerdpoe @the-witchhunter

[chrisevansleftpeck]

Growing and Healing

Word Count: 900

Content Warnings: Prison mention, pregnancy discussion, implied smexy, angst. 

Summary: You and Spencer vow to not have kids until you’re out of the FBI, but after a case of looking after a kid with his wife, things change. 

Spencer had just spent the last case with you, holding watch at the victim’s family's house for hours on end. He watched his wife play tea-party, dress up, and Just Dance with the family’s seven year old girl while her mother was stuck in the station and honestly, he just fell deeper for you. 

You settled into bed your first night back home, pulling the warm covers up to your chin and snuggling into Spencer’s chest. Everything should be perfect except he for some reason laid awake, staring at the ceiling as he ran his fingers through your hair. You picked up on Spencer’s  irritation as he didn’t reach for a book to distract himself, just glued his eyes to the ceiling.

“What’s wrong, baby?” You asked, propping yourself up on Spencer’s chest so that you could look at him. 

“Nothing,” Spencer hesitated. “I’m going to bed.” He suggested, gesturing his hand around to you and him resting in bed together, lights off. 

Your heart stung a little at his random passive-aggressiveness. “Okay.” You mumbled, sinking back down into his chest. The two of you sat in the haunting quiet until finally he groaned as he pushed his hair back. 

“Fuck.” He mumbled. You listened as his heart sped up beneath you, thumping against yours. “I’m- I’m just confused.” 

You sat up beside him at this, flicking on a dim lamp sitting on your bedside table. “What’s confusing you, Spence? We can talk it through.” You offered, biting at your nails slightly. Spencer never got like this and whenever he did, it was usually mom-related.

“I just- just- I know when we got married we agreed on something-” Spencer started.

You finished his sentence like verbatim from your memory, “No kids unless we stop working for the FBI.”

“Yeah,” Spencer looked down as he took your hand in his, squeezing it nervously. “Well I just thought I’d be able to do that, but watching you play with that girl and bake with her and doing all of it with you it’s just- well it’s just a lot harder than I thought.” Your husband deflated further, frowning as he twisted your wedding ring around your finger.

“I know.” You whispered softly, stopping his finger over your ring then looking up at Spencer. “I know. But it’s selfish, isn’t it? I mean- for us to bring someone into the world we live in. And after prison, oh my god, Spencer-” You never said Spencer, only Spence or baby or some pet name. But you were scared half to death at how badly you wanted this and of going against your better instinct. 

“Y/n,” Spencer swiped his thumb over a tear that had fallen down your cheek, unknown to you. “I won’t put myself on the front lines anymore, I’ll let someone else be the bigger person, I’ll never touch dilaudid again and-”

“I’m not worried about you being in the front lines, doing our job how we’re supposed to. I’m worried about another accident, one of us not coming home one day.” You cried, thinking about how not fun growing up without your dad was.

Spencer didn’t say a thing at that, he just let you hit home, wrapping you in his arms and cradling you in his lap. He sat with you until you stopped crying and your breathing regulated. “I’ll take the part-time job.” He finally decided, shocking you. 

“What are you talking about?” You sat up, brows furrowed.

“They offered me a part-time job after prison. Half-time professing in Virginia, half-time working cases.” Spencer explained, running his fingers through your soft hair before leaning in close to you. “I want a family with you a lot more than I want this job. And I don’t want either of us breaking a vow just so we can get our cake and eat it too.” 

You nodded, holding your face in your hands before gathering yourself. “I want to leave the BAU.” You ripped the band-aid off and let the conversation flow. You told Spencer you were unhappy with all the killing and death. You told him how you felt about everything, leaving him completely shocked that he didn’t see through you.

“I didn’t know that at all.” He whispered, looking down. You grasped his hand again.

“Because I didn’t want you to yet. And you know what? Having a kid gives me a perfect excuse to grab a job at a bookstore, take it easy for a minute, get a therapist maybe. Make room for a baby Reid.” You smiled softly, Spencer breaking out in a smile too at the thought of a baby Reid, of his own child with you. You made that life sound so good.

“Are you sure?” He looked up at you finally, quivering with something between nerves and excitement. Spencer leaned in to hold your face, waiting for an answer.

“More than anything.” You whispered, placing a kiss on his nose before Spencer pulled you onto his lap, you giggling. “Ah!” 

“Let’s get a head start then, shall we?” Spencer asked, cupping your blushing cheeks. He still flattered you daily, even after all this time.

“I think we should.” You whispered into his lips, connecting softly and allowing him to take over, kissing you all over as you smiled widely. You wanted to start the next chapter of your lives as soon as possible.

[ohtobeleah]

Way Down We Go // Jake Seresin

Summary: Burnout isn't an academic exercise. No. It's an all-consuming, systemic condition. It's your entire body sending you one clear message. Something has to change and it has to change now.

Warnings: Angst. Mental health talks. Jake Seresin x F!reader. Friends to Lovers to ex’s to enemies to friends to lovers trope.

Word Count: 3.5k

Author Note: Based off my own recent experience with Burn Out. Writing this helped me process some of my pent up frustration with accepting the fact I experienced my first real major burn out at 24.

In 2019, the World Health Organisation officially recognised “Burnout” in its international classification of diseases. Studies show that aviators who report signs of burnout have enlarged amygdalas. The area in the brain that regulates fear and aggression. 

But burnout isn't an academic exercise. No. It's an all-consuming, systemic condition. It's your entire body sending you one clear message. Something has to change and it has to change now. 

Put simply, Burnout comes from a deep imbalance. Too much stress with too few rewards. You're exhausted. Depleted. You no longer have patience, pleasure of serotonin. This is the end unless–

You turn it into something else and find your path to recovery. Pick the pieces you want from your life and find a new way forward. But sometimes it isn't all that simple. Sometimes the all-consuming is just that, it's all-consuming–

And sometimes it's easier to drop the deadweight than to try and carry it on your shoulders.

“Anyone see Rouge today?” It was Hangman's tone that sent a shiver down Roosters spine as he scoffed down the turkey sandwich he had slapped together this morning in the rec room. “We’re on the schedule together after break and I haven't seen her all day?” Rooster knew exactly where you were. At home, probably in bed under a plethora of blankets just trying to catch up on some sleep. 

“I uh–” Rooster was raised by an intelligent and loving woman who had always told him not to talk with his mouth full, but in times like these where every second mattered, that rule seemed more obsolete with every day that passed him by. He did however, make an effort to cover his mouth as he chewed and spoke. “Actually I think I’m with you this afternoon, Mav just hasn't had a chance to change the schedule.” It wasn't technically a lie. 

“Is Rogue not in today?” Jake frowned as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Or is she just avoiding me or something?” You and Jake Seresin had a complicated history. On again and off again romantically, on again off again friends, but these days it seemed to be that the two of you were more off than on. To the point where if you could avoid it, the two of you would ignore each other's existence completely. It was easier that way. 

Which meant Jake didn't know just how bad things had gotten for you. He didn't know you’d decided to take an extended leave of absence from work until you could figure out just what the hell was wrong with you. He didn't know that Rooster had been at your house last night on a welfare check mission. He felt it was his responsibility, after all you were his uncle's daughter. 

“Kerners decided to take some time off work.” Rooster explained the best he could without giving too much detail about your personal problems away. “After yesterday's mishap, she got spooked and asked Simpson for a few days to collect her thoughts.” 

Jake swore his heart left his body when he saw you lose control for those few seconds. All he could do was watch on in pure horror as you tried to regain control of your fighter jet after getting caught in his jet wash. You panicked, something that was completely out of the ordinary for you which led to you losing control of your F-18 for those brief moments in time. 

Jake wanted to talk to you after you landed, but within seconds of touching down you were heading straight for the locker room to grab your things. Unbeknownst to him it was your final straw. He hadn’t seen you since. And now Bradshaw was telling him you weren't in at all and wouldn't be for a while? Things weren’t adding up. Not to Jake. This wasn’t like you at all. 

“What aren't you telling me, Rooster?” Jake pressed as he paced up and down the rec room with his arms folded. He cared about you, he just didn’t know how to convey that care. He’d never not care about you. 

“I’m not not telling you anything.” Bradley replied, he looked like a deer caught in Jake's headlights. “We should get ready for our next hop man.” Bradley tried his best to change the subject, the subject being you and your mental stability. “I’m sure if Rogue has something to say she’ll say it.” He shrugged as he stood, knowing that Jake was probably the last person you would ever want to come clean to about being so vulnerable. “We better get going.”

“You’d tell me if she wasn’t alright, wouldn’t you?” Again, the tone Jake used sent a shiver down Bradley’s spine. He knew how tramaltious your relationship was. “If Kerner wasn’t alright you’d let me know?” Jake didn’t need Bradley to reply, his silence spoke louder than any excuse he could make up on the spot. “Dammit Bradshaw—“ 

“She didn’t want you to know!” 

“Know what!?” Jake hissed. He didn’t raise his voice in fear of bringing any sort of unwanted attention to the situation, but he was worried. Worried about what he didn’t know, worried about you. The best friend he couldn’t talk to. The love of his life he couldn’t admit to. You were the only woman in the world who knew how to take his breath away, in more ways than one. “God Rooster, just tell me what’s going on!” 

“She’s afraid to burn in—“ Bradley sighed as he held the bridge of his nose and hung his head in shame. You trusted him like an older brother and yet here he was, spilling your dirty mental health laundry to the only person you begged him not to tell. Jake Seresin, the love of your life that drove you insane. Your best friend who you couldn’t confide in, the only man who made you want to shoot for the moon and capture all the stars too. “She took an extended leave, told the Admirals they either needed to sign off on the paperwork or they’d be signing her death notice.” It was hard to hear because to Jake this was coming out of nowhere. “She just needs time.” Jake didn’t know how to respond, but most importantly he didn’t know how to react. 

“I don’t have time for all this melodrama, Rooster.” Jake shook his head in disbelief. “If Rogue wants to throw her career away because of a few bad days so be it but I’m not sympathetic.” It was the only response Jake knew how to give, but he was panicking on the inside. “I’ll see you for pre-flight checks.” 

“I think it’s more than just a few bad days, Hangman.” Bradley wasn’t going to say when he saw you last night he hardly recognised you. “She’s hid it well.” In all the time Bradley had known you, he’d never seen you this bad before. It was serious. He’d experienced his own burn out a few years back just after the Uranium mission. Before you joined the Daggers. It had taken its toll on him a hell of a lot more than he was prepared for. “She hid it so well I didn’t even know something was up until she was on the edge already.” 

In that very moment Bradley came to realised why you didn’t want Jake to know you were struggling, you didn’t want him to know that if given the chance you’d quit tomorrow because the burn out you were in was so entirely consuming that it made it hard to even get out of bed. When was the last time you ate? 

“She hid it so well it’s almost hard to believe, don't you think?” Jake snapped over his shoulder as he left the rec room, completely in denial about the fact you didn’t let him in. 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***

The entire day had passed you by before you even contemplated the idea of getting out of bed. The idea in and of itself seemed exhausting. Expending any kind energy other than the minimal amount to breath seemed like a chore. 

Your stomach grumbled as you sat up and looked out the window that nestled itself beside your bed—pushed up against the wall just the way you liked it. It was dark, the day had passed and even though you couldn’t be bothered doing anything, the idea you’d wasted a full day in bed made you feel like shit. Plain and simple. You felt like crap and there was no one else to blame for that intense feeling of disappointment than yourself. 

As you climbed over your mess of linen and covers, a not so subtle knock began to echo out through your apartment. 

“Rooster!” You groaned, pressing your forehead into your mattress as you slumped in defeat. “Go away! I told you I’m fine!” You weren’t fine, you just didn’t want anyone worrying about you. You had this under control right? Even if you didn’t know what was happening to you. 

When the knocking persisted you knew you had to let Bradley in, he’d camp out in the hall before he left without seeing you. 

“My god I told you I’m fine!” You groaned as you made your way down the hall. Still in the same clothes you went to bed in yesterday afternoon. “I don’t need you doing welfare checks on me every dam—“ As you opened the door, it took you a second to register that it wasn’t Bradley standing out in the hall. “Jake?” You frowned, suddenly feeling a hell of a lot more vulnerable than you did six minutes ago. “What are you doing here?” 

“Bradshaw said you’re on leave?” Was all Jake said as he stepped into your apartment, it still felt like home despite the fact he hadn’t been over in months since your last bust. “What gives Rogue?” He was still in his flight suit, usually Jake showed before leaving base. But you were the priority right now. He just needed to see you. See for himself what the hell was going on. 

You watched as Jake made his way into your home, into your sacred space without so much as an afterthought that he may be intruding. He never did think his actions through if he wasn’t inside an F-18.

“Is that your way of asking me if I’m alright?” You rolled your eyes as you shut the front door, making a note to lock it behind you in case any other nosie aviators with callsigns that belonged to the flightless bird community came knocking. 

“It’s my way of asking what gives—“ Jake made sure to correct you. “So what gives? It’s not like you to take a break, you’re as good as they come—don’t actually get any better if you want my personal opinion.” It wasn’t a secret that you and Jake rotated as ‘The Best’  like a rositery chicken. He was on top one week and suddenly it was you by just a few points. But the sentiment remained, you were the only one who ever came close to matching Jake Seresin. It was just in your DNA. 

“Yeah I don’t remember asking for it.” You hissed, pushing past Jake as he stood in your hallway like a fungus you needed to get rid of before it had a chance to infect you. “Just because I’m the best doesn’t mean I don’t deserve a break from time to time.” 

As you made your way down the hall toward your bedroom, Jake noticed the way your shoulders slumped just the slightest bit. He noticed the way you looked as if you hadn’t been out of bed all day, the way your hair looked like a bird's nest atop your head. And he wasn’t sure why you were wearing the T-shirt he thought he’d lost three weeks ago but as it turned out you had it all along. 

“Y/n—“ Jake sighed as he watched you disappear into your room without so much as an explanation. “Wait.” 

“I need to shower.” It was the toneless way you explained yourself that sent warning signals off in Jake's mind as he followed you. 

“Hypothetically if I were to ask if you were doing okay would you tell me the truth?” You and Jake hadn’t always been so short with one another, but it was just the way it was now. It was the dynamic you were used to but loathed so much. You just wanted him to love you the way you saw in all the Disney films that were crammed down your throat as a kid. 

But Jake couldn’t. It wasn’t in his DNA. 

“Probably not, but like I told Bradshaw last night, I’m fine, just needed some time off work.” You shrugged as you fished through your dresser for a fresh pair of socks. Jake just stood off to the side, unsure of what to make of the mess that was your room. Usually you made it a note to keep your space clean and tidy. But when Jake looked around all he saw was complete chaos, a quick look into the inside of your mind looked like. 

“Isn’t that what weekends and annual leave is for?” He mumbled just loud enough for you to hear. 

“Couldn’t wait—I’m taking this unpaid and uninterrupted, so if you’ll excuse me, I need to shower.” 

“Don’t lie to me.” It came out more like a plea than a demand but it still didn’t sit right with you. You knew Jake Seresin didn’t care about anyone but himself. You’d known him long enough to know that he was selfishly egomaniacal. He didn’t care, not about you anyway. “Don’t lie to me Kerner—“ 

Jake had stopped you from moving any further towards your ensuite, with a gentle hand wrapped around your forearm. 

“I’m. Fine.” You had grit your teeth together to stop yourself from breaking. The force was enough to make your jaw ache. “Let. Me. Go.” 

“Really?” Jake challenged. “Because I’m standing on a pile of washing that smells like the inside of Fanboys locker.” 

“What has that got to do with anything!” As you ripped your arm out of Jake's grip he was quick to follow you into your bathroom. “I’m behind on laundry, big deal.” 

“It’s a big deal for you!” You could feel yourself crumbling the more Jake pressed you for the truth. “I don’t know what’s going on but—“ 

“Oh what exactly do you want me to say Jake? That I get up and then all day I'm tired, and that I wanna take a nap all day?” Everything you had been trying to hold in and deny was finally bubbling to the surface. “Do you want to hear me say that I have no motivation? That I don't wanna do anything.” 

“Y/n—“ Jake tried to interrupt as you threw your stuff on the bathroom floor in a heap. “It’s—“ There wasn’t a single thing Jake could say that could comfort you once the damn had been broken, you had held it all in for so long. 

“That I don't want to work, I can’t Jake because if I’m not in my own mind than I could kill myself up there or even worse–I could kill one of you!” 

All Jake could do was to stand there and listen as you let him know everything you had been struggling with for the past few months, slowly losing yourself day by day. You didn’t know what was wrong with you, why you felt this way, why all the enjoyment and all of the life had been sucked out of you. 

“I don't want to talk to anyone, especially you!” It was then you shoved at Jake’s chest, completely fed up with your emotional turmoil. He didn’t fight back, no. Jake simply held you close to his chest as he pulled you into a warm embrace that you so desperately needed. “I don't want to hang out with anyone, I don’t wanna watch TV or read a book or even go on my phone but at the same time as all of that I'm so bored! I don't care about anything because all that I care about is just surviving.” 

“You’re burnt out Rogue—“ 

“I’m not!!” Jake swore black and blue that was what you’d been trying to get at. “I can’t be burnt out!” He was even more confused than he was when Rooster had tiptoed around the situation earlier that same day. “My dad burnt out when he was at the height of his career and you know what he did?” Jake knew, he loved your dad like his own. Ron Slider Kerner was one of the best men Jake had ever had the pleasure of knowing. “He became a goddamn airline pilot!” There was anger in your voice, a deep sadness that Jake didn’t understand, what was so wrong with being an airline pilot? 

“Y/n, Y/n—“ Jake held you as tight as he could. He hadn’t held you like this in what felt like forever. “You’re gonna be okay.” Your head dipped just perfectly under his chin as you broke, there was nothing worse than crying into the arms of the man you loved and hated all at once. “I’m here, you’re gonna be fine.” 

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” It was the sadness in your cry for help that broke Jake's heart the most, how long had you been dealing with this by yourself?  How long had you been telling the people closest to you that you were fine when you really weren’t. “Why can’t I just—“ You couldn’t breathe. “Why can’t I—“ You couldn’t finish your sentences without nearly gasping for air. “I—I can’t—“ 

“Okay, you’re alright, come with me. Something about Jake Seresin that surprised you the most was the way he dealt with panic attacks. For a guy as level headed as him he sure suffered in silence for the longest time. But you knew—it was one of the reasons you thought Jake couldn’t stand you half the time. 

You knew his biggest weakness. Himself. 

“Sit.” Jake led you over to the side of your bed as he knelt on his knees before you. “Now just breathe with me alright, I’ve got you.” It was the calming tone in his beautiful voice that had you giving yourself entirely to him. You didn’t want to be trapped inside your own head anymore. “There’s nothing wrong with you Rogue, everyone goes through burnout, it’s a part of life.” Jake wasn't diminishing your feelings, but from his own experience he knew that there was a weight on your shoulders you needed to rid yourself of. “And it’s real, and it’s valid and it doesn’t mean you aren’t incredibly good at what you do.” 

“I can’t handle the pressure—“

“No, you put too much pressure on yourself, that’s what you can’t handle.” 

“Oh what do you care Jake!” He’d never seen you like this, so lost and so broken. “Why are you even here right now!” 

“Because I care about you! Why else would I be here, huh?” Jake cupped your cheeks gently as he wiped away the tears that streamed down your supple cheeks. “I care about you and when Bradshaw told me you took a leave of absence I knew something was up. This isn’t you.” It was the truth, it wasn’t you and that’s why it scared you so much. You didn’t feel like yourself. “Baby, this isn’t you.” 

All you did was cry in Jake's slightly rough palms as he kneeled before you and tried to do what he could to just be present. He hated seeing you like this, so out of your mind and dealing with an existential crisis. But Jake knew what it was like to experience burnout. 

“I can’t be burn out—“ 

“Why not?” 

“Because it’s not real?” That was probably the stupidest thing Jake had ever heard you say. “My mum always used to say that being burnt out was just an excuse for not being good enough, it was a cop out.” 

“Something tells me that’s a reason why your parents divorced huh?” You couldn’t hold back the small chuckle that escaped through the sobs. “Y/n, what you're experiencing right now is so real it’s not funny—burnout is real and I reckon once you accept that? It’s going to be easier to overcome than to fight off.” 

“You seem to know an awful lot about this for a guy who’s as confident as ever.” 

“Contrary to popular belief Rogue, I wasn’t born the best.” Jake winked as he leaned in to kiss your forehead. “How about you go have that shower and I’ll order some food and we can talk about it, all of it.” 

“Is this your way of trying to get in my pants?” 

“Mmm—it usually would be, but no, not this time.” Jake admitted as he graciously helped you stand as you sighed out a deep breath. “I’m here to help, can’t leave my wingwoman behind.” 

“I love you Seresin.” You smiled softly as you pressed your lips together in a fine line. It was hard to admit, but you’d never not love Jake. “Thanks for showing up.” Jake mimicked your smile before his lips pressed into a fine line of their own. He nodded softly before you turned on your heels, heading into the bathroom before shutting the door behind you. 

“I love you too.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

[sleepingdeath-light]

relationship hcs ; jax

requested by ; anonymous (26/10/23) & anonymous (27/10/23)

fandom(s) ; the amazing digital circus

fandom masterlist(s) ; here

character(s) ; jax

outline ; “i'm so excited you're doing requests for TADC!!!!! do you have any general dating hcs for jax?”

&

“I saw that you now do The Amazing Digital Circus requests!

Soooo how about Jax relationship headcanons?”

note ; characterisation may be shaky as we only have the pilot episode out so far

warning(s) ; canon typical asshole behaviour from jax, mostly fluff!

first and foremost, jax is an asshole and that will not change when the two of you start flirting or when you become an ‘official’ couple — he’s not outright malicious towards you anymore, sure, but he’ll keep on teasing and messing with you at every opportunity (he’s also very unlikely to apologise unless he feels like you’re genuinely upset with him and he can’t sweet talk his way out of it)

pranks and teasing are a big part of your relationship, especially if you’re able to match his mischievousness — whether that’s him leaving things in your room for you to find later that he knows will startle you, using nicknames for you that are more amusing than intimate (e.g. something poking fun at your avatar’s height, an inside joke, or just generally teasing you for something you’ve done in front of him that he refuses to let you live down)

he’s a massive flirt and always finds a way to work around caine’s rules and regulations — he leaves just enough unsaid to get the real message across and absolutely loves watching you process what he’s said and then get flustered or frustrated once you realise what he really means (even if you playfully smack him on the chest or arm because it’s more than worth it for him)

physical affection with jax only really occurs on his terms with very few exceptions — such as when he wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls you against his side, or (if your avatar has hair) when he messes up your hair right after you’ve finished the introduction song — the main exception to the rule is if you’re really not doing too well and need to be grounded or comforted because of it (i.e. you’re experiencing a mental break due to your circumstances or are starting to get close to the point of abstraction for whatever reason — he might be an ass, but he cares and he doesn’t want to lose you)

during caine’s missions he generally prefers to hang out with you if possible, whether that means going off and doing your own thing, watching the inevitable chaos unfold from a safe distance, or actually participating (usually because you’re bored and he just wants to see funny things happen to people) — but that doesn’t mean you’re safe if he decides he’s bored, and he has on several occasions pushed you straight into the ‘line of fire’ of whatever you’re meant to be fighting just to see what you’ll do

(he wouldn’t do it if you could actually get hurt, mind you, but as you’re all physically safe no matter what you’re facing he’s willing to take the risk and the time in the ‘dog rabbit house’ for a laugh)

you’re just about the only person he’ll listen to if ever you tell him to ‘tone it down’… but only for a short while — yeah he can stop teasing pomni for ten minutes to let the poor jester get her bearings, and sure he’ll lay off the bugs in ragatha’s room for a week, but things always return to normal after that because he’s remarkably stubborn, a bit of an ass, and endlessly amused by the ‘suffering’ of others in the circus

if a new character or npc tries to flirt with you then he’s going to go from sassy and sarcastic to outright malicious — more openly so if it’s an npc (at least until caine gets the hint and decommissions them) but if it’s a new character trying to intrude on your relationship then he’s going to make it explicitly clear that (a) you’re taken, (b) you’re exclusive with him, and (c) he will make their time in the circus even more unpleasant if they continue down that path (especially if it’s actively making you uncomfortable in addition to just being disrespectful)

(he might not be able to cause them any harm, but he has keys to everyone’s room and little regard for the safety of others during ‘missions’ so he’s more than able to make them regret flirting with you if he wants)

[ddejavvu]

So I had long hair for the last two year and recently cut it too a 90s lob type thing and I was wondering if you could write one were Jake and reader have eniemes type shit and of course reader has long hair and one day Jake comes to the bar and sees this back of this girl he knows is beautiful she has short hair and he walks up too you and start to filrt with you and you turn around he just star struck on how beautiful you look

If there's one thing you can be sure Jake Seresin will tease you about, it's your hair. You've had it long for years now, and he won't let anyone forget that he was the one to give you your, quite frankly infuriating, callsign; Rapunzel.

Living in close contact with Hangman had meant that a lot of your hair wound up all over his things, stuck to his shirt, woven into his socks after a wash, somehow lining the inside of his own helmet. So he'd donned you Rapunzel as a tease, and it had stuck, much to your dismay.

Now, though, you know you'll never escape the name even though you've chopped off the hair. It had simply been a pain serving with long hair, you'd had trouble tucking it into your helmet every day and the regulation buns never stayed in tact for an entire day. So off the hair went, onto the floor of a salon and swept away into the garbage.

Good Riddance.

"You want a new drink for your new look?" Penny grins, leaning against the bar to stare you down. You won't lie, you see exactly why Maverick is so enamored by her.

"No, thanks. Just the usual," You tuck a stray, very short strand of hair behind your ears, marveling at the feeling of the ends tickling your jaw. It's going to take some getting used to, at the very least.

"Anyone know yet?" She hands you your usual order, and you sip it while shaking your head.

"Nah. Not unless you count the Admiral, I had to stop by his office today."

"Well, it looks adorable. I'm sure they'll all like it." She smiles, patting you on the shoulder as someone calls for her from behind. She leaves you to go attend to them, and you check your phone absentmindedly, careful to keep it off of the bar.

Perhaps if you'd been paying closer attention to your surroundings, you would have registered the heavy steps of Hangman's boots that you hear all day. He stomps around like an elephant, but you don't hear him approach you from behind until he's speaking.

"Well, you must be a new face around here. I'd remember such gorgeous hair."

He's behind you, and your spine stiffens at his voice. His familiar drawl ties your stomach into knots, and you don't know how to stop him before he's doubling down.

"Now, look at that! Your face is just as- ah!" He stops dead in his tracks, eyes switching from sleazy to stunned in a split second when he finally gets a glimpse of you.

"Oh, Hangman," You grumble, "Can't you flirt with someone else?"

"You're- What happened to- I didn't know it was you!" He insists, "I- you cut your hair? Like- like all of it? Just- gone?"

"No," You antagonize him, "It's in my pockets. Yes it's gone, idiot!"

His eyes widen slightly at your admission, like he'd truly believed you'd just put on a wig for the night. But he makes no move to leave, a deep breath slowly fanning out from his nose.

For the first time in your life, you're seeing Hangman speechless. He's staring at you, almost studying you in the way that his wide eyes rake over your features. You're suddenly freaked by the prolonged attention he's never given you before, and you squirm in place.

"Go find someone else to schmooze." You wave a dismissive hand at him, and it seems to break his trance. He still doesn't jump at the opportunity to prowl the bar some more; instead he jumps at the seat beside you.

"I'm alright. 'Think I'll sit tonight out." He informs you, grunting as he settles on the barstool. He pats a quick hand on the par, "Penny, anyone paying the tab tonight?"

"Not unless Y/N puts her phone on the bar," Penny eyes your device with narrowed eyes, and you stuff it into your pocket quickly.

"Damn. Tough luck," He side-eyes you with a grin, "Just a beer, then, please."

No matter how unbearably cocky he is, he's always polite to Penny, and you're sure she appreciates it. That's why she doesn't gripe at his failed flirting attempt with you, merely sending you a knowing glance as she hands him the bottle. What she knows, you're afraid to find out.

"So, just felt like having a lighter cut?" Hangman hums, adam's apple bobbing as he takes a swig of beer.

"Yeah. Tired of stuffing it into my helmet, or having to fix it during an exercise." You shrug, "I'll get used to it."

"I could, too. Looks real nice, honey." He winks, hiding his smirk with another sip of booze. You turn away, schooling your lips into a neutral expression.

"Seems like I should come up with a new name for you, now that you can't really let down your hair." Jake muses, reaching up to tug at a strand by your ear. You swat him away, muscling a grin off of your lips.

"Bob's taken," You snap, "You've done enough, 'already hate Rapunzel as it is."

"Oh, bitch all you want," Jake scoffs, nudging you with his shoulder that you wish were less broad so that you didn't have to bite the inside of your cheek to stop your mouth from falling open, "I know you like it when I call you a princess."

[ohcorny]

stupid enormous timescale makes me crazy and "well, long lived races--" as an answer makes me crazy in a different way. because unless your long lived race literally perceives time differently, a day is a day is a day.

if your elves get hungry and thirsty and rest the same as any other race, which generally they do in fantasy, they are experiencing time and have a metabolism the same as anyone else. honestly this is maybe my One big worldbuilding nitpick i have about the elves in dungeon meshi specifically.

they're portrayed as having no real concept of time as it applies to the shorter lived races. they apparently have plays and events that last days. they'll imprison shorter-lived races and not account for the length of their lives when processing them or their cases, so there'll be periods of years between developments. they require 60-80 years to mature.

none of that makes any fucking sense when you consider they have the same hours in the day and the same physical needs as everyone else. they need to eat, drink, and sleep just as much as any other race. their minds move at the same pace as everyone else's. if you put an equivalent tall-man and an elf in a room and taught them both a song, they'd pick it up at an equal pace, and they'd break for lunch at the same time, and spend as much time eating it.

so why would anything they do take longer? why would their plays be any longer? they still need to stop to eat and sleep. work is still due when it's due. why would their bureaucracy for prisoners be any slower? they have the same hours in the day as anyone else. are they just not working? if it takes two years to follow up on a prisoner's case, what are they doing with that time?

unless their entire culture is built around unlimited leisure, with an expectation that nothing ever needs to be done on time, none of that makes sense. and if their culture IS like that (which it definitely isn't based on what we've seen) how do they function so well as to be The major power on the planet?

but really the part that makes the least sense of all is the long adolescence. you're telling me they could spend 20 years as physical children? small and vulnerable and fragile? brother the species would die out. they would die out! that is too long to be small and vulnerable in an intelligent society! WE were barely making it to 20 years at all throughout most of history and at least during that time we were growing and learning! if you're a toddler with a toddler brain for 20 years you are simply going to hit your head and die. it's an inevitability. that's not even accounting for diseases.

and if you somehow make it past that gauntlet and grow up to be a teenager and had to spend 20 years with a teenager's hormones and emotional regulation and pubescent body you would KILL YOURSELF. YOU ARE NOT MAKING IT TO ADULTHOOD.

elves are dumb

[slasher-male-wife]

TWD characters when you tell them about your assault

This is heavily inspired by the post @slasherhaven that they made awhile ago. I've been hyperfixated on TWD lately and I'm still in the middle of watching it, I'm early in season 9 so sorry if these are kind of OOC. Also I am now writing for Maggie and Glenn.

Rick Grimes, Daryl Dixon, Glenn Rhee, and Maggie Rhee

Warnings: Mentions of past sexual assault no explicit details mentioned, murder, canon typical violence, talk of getting killed by walkers, slight season three spoilers

Rick Grimes

When you tell him about what happened to you his heart breaks and he's immediately filled with rage. He doesn't want to leave you alone after you're so open and vulnerable with him about this but he genuinely has to step away to calm himself down about this.

Once he's calmed himself down he'll be quickly back to help comfort you about what happened. Holding you close and letting you vent as much as you need to. Now that he's here he's going to protect you as much as he can and no one is going to hurt you again.

When you give him information on the person who did it to you he thinks not much of it for the time being but when he runs into the piece of filth that hurt you he's seething. But he'll put on a mask until he can really get close enough to get them back.

He's not going to waste a bullet on this sick son of a bitch. He'll made it slow and painful. He'll beat them bloody and make sure they're eaten by walkers before they die.

Then he'll go back home to you and make sure that you're comforted and know that you're deeply loved and appreciated by him. He'll never tell you that he killed them, but he'll always let you know that they can't hurt you anymore.

Daryl Dixon

He's not exactly sure how to go about helping you when you tell him about your assault. Of course he's upset, he's very outraged, but he's not very in tune with his emotions and obviously he's not going to really know how to handle regulating his emotions and help you.

In a rare moment of vulnerability he'll hold you close to him and let you cry out your feelings. He won't say or do much other than hold you close and promise you that no one is ever going to hurt you again.

You gave him details about your assault but he never actually expected to come across that person, especially given the fact that it's the apocalypse. But when he sees the person that hurt you his immediate reaction is to try and kill them.

But he settles on beating them close to death and berating them the entire time about how much of an awful person they are and just how much they deserve what's happening to them. After beating them close to death he'll leave them there and hope that a walker eats them alive.

Just like with Rick he'll get back home and go to give you a hug, which is rare with Daryl. He'll hover close to you for the rest of the day and will be sure to try and show you just how much he cares about you in his own way. He'll also never tell you what he did, he'll just tell you there's no way in hell they can hurt someone ever again.

Glenn Rhee

He's 100% pulling you into a hug when you tell him about what happened to you. He'll be silent the entire time unless you want him to comfort you verbally which he will do if that's what you need to happen.

He'll spend the rest of the day taking care of you and trying to keep your load relatively light. He'll be close to you for the rest of the day and try to make sure that you're not beating yourself up for what happened to you.

When he finds out he knows the person who assaulted you he's livid. He takes them out to a secluded area and threatens them after beating them for a bit. He swears if they ever come near you again he'll kill them.

He personally watches or makes sure that they're long gone before the comes back home to you where he assures you they'll never hurt you ever again. He won't give details but he'll keep assuring you that they'll never hurt you again.

Maggie Rhee

When you explain your assault to her she's heartbroken, immediately pulling you into a hug and holding you there for as long as you need to be held.

If she feels like it could help you she'll talk about her own experience with what happened with The Governor. She'll appreciate how vulnerable you're being with her and she'll feel like she can be vulnerable with someone again.

If she ever comes across the person who hurt you she's going to be overcome with rage and will have to calm herself down to get him back to Hilltop and keep him there while she talks to you about what you want to do about them.

If you want them dead she's happy to help you with killing them, however you want to kill them she'll help, unless you want to do it yourself. She wants to get you justice and if killing them is justice to you then go ahead.

If you don't want them dead she understands that but she'll eventually to it herself. She can't stand the idea of the person who hurt you so horribly being able to go unpunished for what they did to you. Either way after what happens she's going to comfort you again.

[howtofightwrite]

How effective is clapping (boxing?) someone's ears in a fight? Like on a scale from like mild annoyance to taking someone out of a fight entirely. Something about it always seemed childish but I swear I've read something about the pressure change really messing up your eardrum and inner ear.

Boxing the ears works very well.

Your sense of balance is regulated by a fluid filled organ in your inner ear. Sensory hair cells track the way the fluid moves, or more accurately, fails to move, when your head and body move around. This is the fundamental, physiological basis, for your ability to tell up from down.

Unsurprisingly, when you get that fluid moving and doing things it's not supposed to, your body's ability to maintain your balance starts to experience some “difficulties.”

The inner ear works off some fairly reasonable expectations for how things will behave. Unfortunately, when those expectations are no longer true, for example if someone just delivered a shock of air pressure down both ear canals, it becomes surprisingly difficult to override that information.

So, when you box someone's ears, you can temporarily disrupt someone's balance, and if executed correctly, it can even cause them to crumple to the floor. Now it doesn't actually incapacitate them, and you can power through your inner ear getting slightly stirred from a hit (though, it's not going to be a fun experience. Especially if your body stumbles across the idea that your balance issues are from a poison you consumed, in which case expect to throw up. Though, if you have the ability to weaponize that, being able to literally throw up into your opponent's face is one way to offer a very clear opinion on getting your ears boxed.)

However, that's the shallow end. Boxing the ears can, as you mentioned, cause an ear drum to pop. This isn't quite as simple as it might first seem, as there are a lot of ways this blow can cause temporary or permanent damage to the ear and your ability to hear, ranging from the membrane itself being perforated (though, that's more likely if there's a sharpened object getting driven into their ear, or “ossicular dislocation,” where the bones you rely on to make the ear drum work become separated (and fixing this will require surgery.) However, it can get muchworse if enough force is applied.

There are a lot of delicate bits of bone in this part of the skull (including the malleus, incus, and stapes mentioned in the previous paragraph.) A lot of these are part of the temporal bone as a whole, but breaking parts of that can have some really unpleasant side effects including, and I'm not exaggerating (much), your brain leaking from your ear or sinuses. (Though, it's far more common that this leakage is cerebrospinal fluid, rather than the brain itself which is usually non-life threatening, and those injuries dotend to heal on their own, but in rare cases surgery is necessary to deal with CSF leakage.) Which is to say, it can get reallybad.

So, in a word, “yeah.” Boxing the ears works. A fairly light tap to both at the same times can completely scramble someone's sense of balance for a few minutes, and if you can land the hits, it is a valid way to create an opening for a hasty exit. The more catastrophic outcomes are extremely unlikely unless you're driving a lot more force into their skull, or get supremely unlucky.

Now, “supremely unlucky,” can still happen, and you are battering someone's skull, so boxing their ears isn't exactly, “safe,” but as intentional strikes to the head go, it's one of the less dangerous options. Then again, it's also not trying to do much to your foe.

-Starke

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[treedaddymcpuffpuff]

somnophilia with John wick from the prompts? 👉🏽👈🏽

jw & fem reader

gif by the wonderful @scarlettspectra. TRIGGER WARNING(s) Somnophilia (from Latin somnus "sleep" and Greek φιλία, -philia "friendship") is a paraphilia in which an individual becomes sexually aroused by someone who is unconscious. & a bit of exhibitionism

You had waited for him all day. Flitting around the house, cleaning and cooking and making sure everything was in line for his arrival. Wearing his favorite dress, playing his favorite music on the stereo, chilling a fresh bottle of his favorite bourbon.

A month and a half. That’s how long it had been since you last saw the person  whose presence gave meaning to your life. So, naturally, you were brimming with excitement, heart pattering wild and strong in your chest, body giddy and jittery—unable to regulate haywire nerves. John was coming home. 

He wasn’t often gone for this long. It was an important job. Something involving a very, very rich man paying him to complete a very, very difficult task. Of course, you knew what his tasks usually included, but didn’t like to think about it too much—couldn’t think about it too much…

It was just hard to imagine…your John killing someone. The same John that took bugs outside instead of squashing them, who cleaned up his bar table and tipped more than generously, who always held the door open and returned shopping carts. Who was sweet and kind and treated you like you were made of paper-thin glass unless you specifically requested otherwise. 

The text comes in mid-evening, just as you’re putting his untouched dinner away and cleaning up the kitchen. Hey, dollbaby, my flight got delayed until tomorrow at six AM. I’m sorry. Don’t stay up worrying about me.

It’s disappointing, but you have to admit you’re used to this. It just comes with what he does, and you’ll gladly endure it with a smile for him. However, that doesn’t mean you can grant his request and stop yourself from worrying. With a little sigh, you type back: Okay, John. Love you.

I Love you, too.

You try and pass the time; go for a late swim, read a book, snuggle up on the big leather couch to scroll TV channels for movies. Except none of that works to distract you from John’s missing shadow, and you just end up with your head buried in a throw pillow, inhaling his residual scent and pretending the cushion is his chest.

You decide to invite some friends over for a good distraction, and they bring card games and beer and wine. You have your own stash of alcohol, so between you and three of you closest, you end up drinking a little too much and passing out halfway through game night. 

John finds you in the icy blue light of breaking dawn, breathing even and slow and slung haphazardly on top of your mattress. The residual burn of spirits heat your skin ruddy, and you have long since kicked the comforter off to leave yourself bare and unsuspecting of the hungry wolf who’s cock fattens at the sight of you—his big tshirt snuggling against your curves, the hint of a panty seam visible along the soft skin of your hip

He discards his clothes into a pile on the floor, too starved for flesh to care about being his usual tidy self, and climbs on the bed to run the tip of his tongue along that delicious cut crease of supple flesh.

You stir and whine, hand coming up momentarily to bat the tickly feeling away, only to weakly fall back down onto the bed, its task lost in the dark deep of your slumber. 

With a wicked grin, he moves his mouth down your thigh, licks into the seam behind your knee, then treks a wet path of kisses over your calves. You squirm and kick, trapped by heavy sleep, defenseless under his tongue.

He knows that, by now, you’d be begging him sweetly to make you cum, arching up into his teasing mouth for more, hanging on to his beautiful throw of silky hair as he laps at your panties. Always so impatient, his sweet girl. 

God, he missed you. Missed your smell and taste, the way you buck your hips, that little tender space between thigh and cunt that makes you squeal when he flicks it with his tongue. 

He nudges your panties to the side to reveal an already glistening wet and swollen pussy, your clit ripe and fresh, ready for his mouth to pluck and taste. Even in your sleep, you’re more than ready to sheath his cock.

He suckles at your folds gently while you stir awake with a sleepy little moan. “J-joh-jjj,” you slurr, gripping at the plump pillows while your cunt tenses and thighs attempt closing. 

So sensitive in that foggy place between sleep and wake, with his familiar mouth on you, impatient and insistent.

He holds your thighs open and eats—devours your cunt sloppily from the back, groaning about how good you taste and how much he missed it. “It’s okay, baby, no no no, come’ere, I gotcha. That’s my girl.” Two fingers curled inside, coaxing a fast approaching orgasm from your perfect little pussy. 

“Gonna, gonna-ah c-cum,” you tell him, clenching on his fingers, once shy clit now grinding down onto his tongue. You’ve just missed him so much, and it’s been so long, and you haven’t even touched yourself at his specific request, so it’s no surprise that it only takes seconds of cunnulingus just the way he’s learned you love it to have you soaking the sheets below your hips. 

“Good job,” he coos, bringing you down with little kisses to your puffy lips and chafed thighs, sucking his fingers clean and closing his eyes against the savory flavor of your slick. “You okay, babydoll?” 

“Uh huh,” you tell him, still twitching from the heavy orgasm, eyes threatening to close again, too tired to wipe the little bit of spittle off your chin. 

You feel him shift behind you, and then his thick tip press against your still spasming entrance, ready to overwhelm and overstimulate and leave you a babbling mess. His cock is built for your pleasure and demise, and as he enters, invading and pillaging the sensitive walls of your cunt, your eyes fly open and you sob into the pillow.

Something like, “o-oh fuck-“

“Shhh, baby.” His warm touch finds the base of your skull, that soft tug on your unkempt tangles guiding you back into his slow, deliberate thrusts. “Your friends are in the living room, gotta be quiet for me.” 

“Y-yeah Jo-ohn.” You try and tell him just how much you missed him, but the words jumble and stick, translating to half-muffled moans. Tears bead at your waterline in submission to that first stretch of his unfairly girthed cock. 

He understands your incoherent babbles perfectly. “Fuck,” he growls, tip kissing your cervix, “I missed you, too. Missed this tight little cunt.”

You have to bite down on your knuckles to keep the animalistic sounds of pleasure at bay, as he fucks you. So often, this beautiful man makes love to you, slow and soft. This is not one of those times. 

If you could think, it would be about how loud the sound of his hard pelvis clapping against your soft ass is, as he chases that otherwise unobtainable high that only your cunt can bring—that he thought about every single minute he was gone…the reason he’s alive.

You’re sobbing from it all—the way he splits you open so perfectly, the tiny dark whispers of reassurance, the fact that he’s alive and well and all over and around you; big hand pressing your lower back down for better and deeper access inside your cunt.

The way he just knows, even in his own rough desperation, how to unravel you—make you see the cosmos and beyond, into the soupy blackness of unexplored universe. 

“You coming again, baby?” He doesn’t have to ask, because he knows you are, more than familiar with the way you unfold and shatter. 

“Y-yeah-huh.”

He puts you on your back with practiced gentleness, and cups your sweaty cheeks in his hands before sucking your bite-swollen lower lip into his mouth, managing to stay buried inside you through the easy transition, swallowing your whimpers while his cock works out the final flutters of your orgasm. 

“Oh, John,” you say, when he stops licking at your throat to allow the both of you some much-needed, panting breath. “F-fuck, John.”

“I know, baby, I know,” he says, brushing the sweaty hair off your temples and pecking tiny wet kisses over your face. “I gotcha, it’s okay. Johnny’s here. Open your pretty eyes, let me see you.” 

In a deep, stuttering thrust, when you clamp like a vice around him, he loses himself inside of you, and you are with him. Utterly overtaken, love burning through your blood, body singing in rapturous heavenly choir. This is as close to the pearly gates you will ever get, you think, as you float down from the high. 

There is a cut on his temple that you failed to notice, and you touch just below. “You got hurt.” 

“I’m better, now.” 

With him nestled beside you, arms wrapping around and sheltering your body with his own, legs supporting your bottom and cock still softening inside your cunt, you feel sleep creep back up like an old friend.

It isn’t long before he’s succumbed to it, himself, happily snoozing nestled in your hair. You don’t know what he’s been through in that long stretch of absence, but it doesn’t matter now. 

He’s here with you, and that’s enough.

[whumpshaped]

mayhaps I request whumpee being slowly hypnotized by “caretaker” to become more and more submissive and incapable of more and more stuff (like reading, self regulating, being alone) so whumpee becomes clingy pet that wants to be pet and doted on

tw bad caretaker, conditioning, hypnosis, gaslighting, manipulation, past trauma

“Oh, darling. Not again.” Caretaker sighed at the sight of the broken glass on the floor, the big puddle of water at Whumpee’s feet. “You’ve always been a clumsy one, haven’t you?”

Whumpee opened their mouth to protest. They hadn’t. They had been pretty capable once, they thought. Before the captivity, before Caretaker had taken them in to care for them.

They closed their mouth again. It wasn’t worth it to argue over semantics. “I’m sorry,” they said instead. “I can clean it up.”

“And cut your hand on the glass? No, it’s quite alright. I’ll handle it.”

Whumpee was instructed to sit on the counter while Caretaker worked, muttering about all their little flaws and faults. It was a constant by now. They knew the list front to back, they could’ve recited it on command if Caretaker ever asked.

Or maybe they couldn’t. Stupid was on the list, after all. With a bad memory was yet another item. Maybe they were only kidding themself, trying to hold onto a version of themself that didn’t exist anymore and wouldn’t exist again.

“There,” Caretaker said with a soft smile when they were all finished. “Safe as ever. Unless you slip again, of course. But surely not, right?” They stepped in front of Whumpee, preventing them from hopping off the counter on their own, and cupped their cheeks. “You’ve learned your lesson from that one, hm?”

“Yeah,” they said dutifully. “No slippery socks on the slippery tiles.”

“Smart thing,” they cooed, sliding their hands lower and grabbing them by the waist to lift them off the counter. “Maybe we should have a rule about you not handling any glass items. I can get you a plastic cup that won’t break.”

I’m not a child. No, a child at least had an excuse. What was their excuse? Trauma made them unable to hold a glass? Trauma they should’ve long healed from by now?

“Okay,” they said quietly. Caretaker knew better.

Caretaker ruffled their hair and leaned in, whispering into their ear. “You’re a useless little thing, aren’t you? Constantly breaking things. Really, you’re lucky I keep you around when you’re so clumsy.”

Whumpee leaned back against the counter a bit more, grateful to have some support now that they were starting to feel so dizzy again. “I’m lucky…” they repeated thoughtlessly.

“Yes, you are. So lucky that I’m generous and kind. Kind enough to care for a destructive, useless thing like you.”

“Useless thing like me…” they murmured, barely registering when Caretaker lifted a hand. They only came to when their friend started snapping their fingers in front of their face, looking concerned.

“Are you alright?” they asked, and Whumpee blinked a couple times before nodding. “You completely zoned out on me.”

“Ah, I… I’m sorry. Thank you for still caring for me.” They smiled a little. “I know it must be annoying. I’m glad you’re so kind.”

[awkward-tension-art]

Bacta and Bandages Chp.6 (Rex x Reader)

Chapter 5. Chapter 7.

Blue Shadow Virus

CW: Slow burn, Two fools trying to ignore their crushes, Blue Shadow Virus Arc, Needles, medical talk, science talk, infections, mentions of dead clones, this is a long one, Reader is gender neutral, no use of (Y/N), reader is a doctor, if I miss a tag LMK!

Tag list (Thank you for liking my writing <3) @heavenseed76 @arctrooper69

You were cleaning up the medical bay when your holo beeped rapidly at your desk. As soon as you pressed the button to answer, General Skywalker appeared, looking panicked.

“Doctor! What do you know about the Blue Shadow Virus!?” 

You shook your head in confusion, “I’m sorry…sir?” He was supposed to be on Naboo for a mission. You weren’t entirely sure of the details though…

“Padme, Ahsoka and Rex are trapped in a lab that's full of the virus in the air.” He explained rapidly, “What do you know about it!?”

“I-what!?” You stood so suddenly the chair at your desk fell back, “General, the Blue Shadow Virus killed all of its hosts thousands of years ago through water, how…”

“His name is Nuvo Vindi.”

Your blood ran cold. 

You’ve been taught through your schooling the importance of ethics and morality in medicine. Vindi’s research had come up several times as prime examples of unethical science, and the consequences of breaking such regulations. Even before the war, Nuvo Vindi had been thrown out of the medical community for his downright cruel methods. 

So this is where the bastard had been…

You furrowed your brow, “Anyone infected has 48 hours to live. It causes dysfunction of the respiratory tract…even inhibits the blood itself from carrying oxygen properly. And it has a 99% lethality rate…”

Your heart broke. That was a death sentence unless they had protection. Rex will be dead in 48 hours…Ahsoka too. And Senator Amidala, who you only met briefly once before. 

“Doctor, please think of something, anything!” Anakin pleaded with you. He was frenzied and desperate. Something you hadn’t seen before.

General Kenobi stepped into the view of the holo, “What Anakin is asking, is what do you know about viruses in general, and can that knowledge be used to help?” 

You thought for a moment. You had contacts through the community. Those with more knowledge on viral outbreaks and infections. 

“Give me some time. I know who to contact.” You responded. 

The younger Jedi visibility deflated and nodded, “Please, hurry…”

Once he hung up, it finally hit you. 

He said Padme, not Senator Amidala…

It didn’t matter. You didn’t have a lot of time. Long distance calls weren’t possible on your holo, so you practically shoved Admiral Yularen aside when you got to the command bridge. A couple of bridge officers weren’t happy that you used the venator itself to make some ‘personal’ calls. You didn’t let them distract you as you reached out to your contacts.

A majority of them led to dead-ends. 

“100% lethality.” 

“No cure.”

“The virus is long gone, who cares?”

Until you made one more call. An old mentor in a brief tryst with virology you had in your schooling. She gave you a clue, “All viruses can be slowed by inhibitors, replication can be slowed until a cure can be made. It’ll buy a patient time, you know this. Why are you asking?”

“Theoretically, how would you cure a virus that you’ve never seen before?” You asked, swallowing.

“Break the capsid. You’ll need to know the exact protein that’s used, but…if you find a compound to do it, you can theoretically cure anything.” 

“Thank you, doctor.” You hung up and called General Skywalker again, this time on your personal holo as you rushed back to the medical bay. You needed supplies.

He answered, looking even more panicked and disheveled, “Did you find anything?” 

“How much of the lab is still intact?” you asked him, “I can buy everyone infected some time using viral inhibitors, and if the equipment is still intact I might be able to get some information that can be used for a cure.” 

“Are you suggesting you go down into the lab?” Kenobi interrupted, “Doctor, you said yourself that this virus is lethal.”

It hit you exactly what you were suggesting. It was dangerous. You’d have protection, but it would be temporary. An EVA suit wouldn’t last forever, but you had to try. 

You nodded, sounding resolute, “I am.” 

“Get down here.” was all General Skywalker said before cutting the call. He was panicking, badly. It was obvious to everyone around him. 

As you prepared yourself and a pack with the medicine needed to help the infected, your thoughts returned to Anakin and…Padme.

They were friends. According to both of them. 

But…well, you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more between them. 

Like you and Rex-Stop it!

You were probably reading too much into it…Probably.

Instead of landing in the hangar at Theed, the LAAT dropped you off at the landing zone in the middle of a grassy swamp. General Kenobi and General Skywalker met you as you stepped off, the latter looking disheveled. He clearly had been pacing and running his hand through his brown hair. Pure anxiety was rolling off of him in waves.

“Doctor, are you certain you want to do this?” Obi-wan asked as you approached. 

You adjusted your com on your wrist. These damn suits were a pain to move in, but you put the EVA helmet on and nodded, “I am. Where's the hatch to the lab?”

“Are you sure this will work?” Anakin asked, voice cracking from stress. He walked with you, leading you to the entrance of the lab. 

You shifted the pack over your shoulder, “The viral inhibitors I brought should buy more time for those who are infected. In the meantime, I’ll collect the samples and analyze them for information. Once I know exactly what I’m dealing with, I’ll tell you what could be used as a cure.” 

You approached the hatch door. To avoid any danger to those around, you’d have to enter quickly. A little bit of the virus leaking out would easily be handled by the environment and atmosphere, but if the entire lab’s contents were released, it could cause disastrous issues. 

Especially if it contaminated the water. 

Anakin looked at you in worry. You’ve never seen the General so…scared. The situation called for it, of course, but it still surprised you, “What…What will you know what to look for?” 

“I’m a doctor, sir.” You gave him a soft, reassuring smile, “I’m supposed to know viruses and how to treat them.” 

At your words, he seemed to relax slightly. 

Without any more parting words, you opened the hatch and got inside the lab. Immediately your vision was compromised with the aerosolized virus. The blue was dense, denser than a desert storm. Carefully, you climbed down the ladder to the floor, and once steady on your feet, you activated your com. 

“Commander, I’m in the lab.” Your words were quiet, trying to reach Ahsoka, “Where are you?”

“What do you mean you're in the lab!?” It was Rex who asked, now even more worried. His voice was about as panicked as Skywalker’s was.

You furrowed your brow, answering, “Did the General not inform you? I have medicine that will help.” 

“No, Anakin didn’t tell us.” Padme responded this time. You could hear the annoyance in her sigh, “Of course he didn’t…”

“Sky guy…” Ahsoka groaned, “We’re in a safe room on the second floor..” Her words were cut off by a coughing fit, “We’ve cleared the droids already, so it should be safe for you.” 

“On it.” 

Navigating was difficult. The virus clouded everything in front of you, causing you to get turned around multiple times. The fact that you didn’t even know the layout of the lab didn’t help. You made one more turn and paused, through the infectious smoke, you could see the shape of two droids. They turned sharpy when they noticed you.

“Lifeform!” 

“Shoot it!” 

Fuck!

You dove back into the hall you just stepped out of as soon as they started shooting. One of the shots nicked the wall, causing sparks to startle you for a second. Your hand ghosted over your hip and you swore. You didn’t have your pistol, since this damn suit didn’t have a holster.

By whatever space gods existed you hated these fucking suits!

Your com beeped and Padme’s voice came through, “Doctor, we hear shooting. What's going on!?”

“You forgot two droids.” You answered over the noise, “And, admittedly, I don’t have my blaster.”

Less than a minute later, you heard more blaster fire and the telltale sound of droids clattering onto the ground. You peaked out of the corner, seeing the familiar shape of clone trooper armor through the haze. 

“Rex is on his way.” Ahsoka informed you belatedly, “I think…” 

You laughed softly, standing up, “Found him.” Disconnecting the call, you approached him and the other trooper, “I am so glad to see you.” 

“I wish I could say the same. What are you doing here!?” The captain snapped, “This virus is dangerous!”

His anger took you entirely off guard. First Anakin was an anxious mess, and now Rex was enraged. Emotions were clearly high on this mission…

“I know. But I have medicine.” You responded, keeping calm. You’ve been yelled at before. By patients and even other troopers. You could handle it. Even if it hurts for Rex to shout at you.

Rex’s shoulder slumped. He seemed to have caught himself in how he acted and quickly shifted back into his professional attitude, “I..right. Yes. the medicine.” 

The trooper behind him, Nere, you’ve recognized, began coughing and wheezing, leaning against the wall for support. Immediately, your hands reached into your pack and pulled out a small, portable oxygen tank. You got his helmet off and the mask over his mouth and nose within seconds. He gasped, putting his hands over yours to hold the small tank steady.

“Deep breaths.” You encouraged gently, “Keep breathing.”

It’ll only last a few minutes, but anything would help at this point.

Rex motioned for you to follow him down the hall, leading you to Padme, Ahsoka and the others. You got the trooper to lean against you as you followed the captain to the safe room.

Once inside, taking in the numbers, you got to work. Padme was the best out of everyone, so you’d have to treat her last. Rex was active enough to be walking around and even get the troopers in one part of the room, keeping them closer together. Ahsoka, based on the dark veins marking her orange skin, and earlier coughing, needed to be first. 

Jar-Jar….was Jar-Jar. He wasn’t infected at all. In fact, he was the only one other than you in a proper EVA suit.

Rex helped you get Nere to the ground. Once he was sitting against the wall, you stood and nodded to Ahsoka, “You first, Commander.” 

She seemed surprised, but moved to sit on one of the metal boxes that were stacked around the room. Once you were at her side, you opened your pack and began to get the medicine in order. As you focused, she raised her com to her mouth, “Master, why didn’t you tell us you were sending the Doctor down here?” 

After a second, Kenobi responded, “I knew Anakin forgot to do something.” 

The young Padawan rolled her eyes but didn't respond. She moved her face away and broke into a coughing fit. Luckily, you had another hand-held oxygen tank that you got gently over her face. 

As she held it and breathed, you started with the injections. Padme approached to watch you, the Senator looking at the syringes with slight interest, “What is the medicine supposed to do?” 

“The first injection is to boost the immune system,” You answered her as you worked, moving to the second needle, “This one, is to encourage oxygen to bind to blood cells.” Ahsoka nodded, also watching as you poked and prodded her arm. 

You carefully picked up the third and last injector, “And this is called a viral inhibitor, it works by slowing down the virus’ replication. But it won’t stop it indefinitely.” 

Senator Amidala looked grateful to you as you explained, “Thank you, for helping us.” 

“It’s my job to help people, Senator.” You returned her appreciative smile as you got a small patch to cover the needle marks on Ahsoka’s arm. 

“Hey, I already feel better.” the padawan perked up, “It's working.”

You stood and nodded, “Good.” Turning, you moved onto the others. Your work was swift and efficient. Each trooper gave you a ‘thanks doc’ as soon as you finished with them. 

However, you paused, kneeling by two of them. They were both still. The one on the left rested his head on the shoulder of his brother. At first, they looked asleep. But they’re stillness indicated they were dead.

“They didn’t make it.” Rex informed you sadly, “They were at the center of when the virus was released.” 

You had been too late. 

“I’m sorry,” You whispered, moving over to the Captain in order to treat him now. 

“What a waste…” Senator Amidala sighed, looking down sadly. 

“With all due respect, Senator,” The clone Captain spoke with politeness and professionalism, “It’s what they’re born to do.” 

That sentiment didn’t make her feel any better, “I hope their sacrifice brings us closer to peace.” 

“It will,” Ahsoka crossed her legs as she still sat on the metal crate, “We’ll bring peace to the galaxy.” She lowered her oxygen mask to talk before raising it again to breathe. 

“There,” Your eyes met Rex’s, “All done.” 

“Thank you, Doctor.” he smirked softly, warmth and appreciation in his brown eyes.

Padme stepped up to you, “If we survive this, I’d like to buy you a cup of caf.”

You laughed softly, rolling up her sleeve to administer the medicine. 

Ahsoka was silent, watching Captain Rex. The clone hadn’t said a word when he sprinted from the safe room to help you. It actually startled her, seeing the normally level-headed trooper act so irrationally. 

Why would Rex…

The padawan leaned forward, eyes on him as he checked on the rest of the men. 

Why…

Her thoughts were interrupted by you, “Alright Senator, done. This medicine buys you time.” 

“How much time?” One of the troopers asked, finding the strength to stand up. Seems the treatment you brought also managed to bring back everyone's stamina. 

You sighed, “Honestly, with the Blue Shadow Virus, it could be hours to days. I’ve never dealt with this virus before. No one has in over a thousand years.” 

“We’ll have to make the most of the time we have,” Padme sounded determined, “We should permanently seal the lab.” 

“Not yet, we still have a plan.” You sounded confident, yet calm, “The lab's main equipment hadn’t been destroyed right? I need to get to it.” 

“What? Why?” Ahsoka stood, “We should destroy this stuff, make sure no one can do something like this ever again.”

Your eyes met hers steadily. Normally, you’d try to act professional, as she’s technically your superior, but when it comes to matters of health and medicine, well…

You outrank everyone.

Your explanation of the strategy was quick but detailed. You went step-by-step of what you and the Generals had planned. Your words took the tone of that of a competent doctor, as if explaining a procedure to quell a patient's anxiety. This was what you knew, and it was clear in how you broke down everything for those in the room. 

Without any other questions, Rex, Ahsoka and the other troopers led you to the main lab area. As you walked, you were already coming up with the protocol to break down all components of a virus. 

Your mentor suggested breaking the capsid, the protective protein shell. Though, destroying the envelope would also be effective. There was also disruption of ion channels. You had options. No matter how you did it, a dead virus was a dead virus. 

And there was plenty in the air you could use for analysis.

“We’re here.” Padme interrupted your thoughts, causing you to snap back into focus. 

Through the thick, never ending blue smoke, you could make out lab benches, bottles of chemicals and some equipment. You were riding on the assumption that Dr.Vindi would have the supplies and machinery to perform what you needed.

The unethical fucker engineered the virus. If he didn’t have the basic tools for protein analysis, you’d question how he managed to do all of this to begin with. 

With a nod, you took a breath and stepped forward. Your mind snapped into that of a scientist now. You fell back into the years of classes, lab work and research you did in order to become a doctor. The world around you tuned out as you worked.

You moved with practiced movements, stepping over broken droids as you practically danced through the lab. You collected some of the smoke in the air, closing it off in a test tube. As you put the sample in a centrifuge and turned the machine on, you began to collect chemicals that you could use. 

Wordlessly, you got to a table as you collected the supplies. Your steps stopped at a shelf and you tried to kneel to grab another bottle. However, the stiff suit was inhibiting your movements. 

“Doctor?” Padme approached, noticing your stalling. 

You swore under your breath before grabbing your helmet and ripping it off, “This damn suit!” Your throw was hard enough to crack the glass when you hurled the round thing against the wall. The suit slipped off your body, and you kicked it away before properly kneeling and grabbing the bottle of ethanol.

“What-!?”

“Couldn’t move in that damn thing!” You spat, “Always hated them.” Immediately, the foggy air hit your tongue, and you tasted iron. The air was thick, feeling more like dust rather than anything breathable. You had to suck it up though, ignoring how, if this didn’t work, you just sealed your own fate. 

Well, there were worse ways to die than surrounded by friends. 

“W-why!?” Rex practically followed you as you continued around the lab, “Now you’ll get sick like the rest of us!” He got in front of you, putting his hands on your shoulders.

“I know. But if I can't move, I can’t work properly.” You pulled away and returned to the table with the chemicals. Your eyes were on your hands as you began to make reagents. After a minute the centrifuge stopped and you turned to grab your sample. Of course, in any other situation, you wouldn’t disregard safety. 

Afterall, you should be wearing proper gloves when working with some of these mixtures, but you didn’t have the time to dig around the lab for them. 

You poured one of the reagents into the tube with the virus and mixed them before putting them back in the centrifuge. 

Spin down the samples. 

Separate the proteins from viral debris.

Remove the liquid that contained the proteins you needed.

You were in your element. 

The entire process took a couple of hours. Once you had the proteins properly separated and prepared, you moved to the analysis machine and put the sample in. It would take some time for the equipment to read the proteins of the virus, but the process was moving along. 

Once the machine was running, you sighed and stepped back. After a breath, a cough forced its way past your lips. Right…the viral smoke. You were infected the moment you ripped off the EVA suit.

“Now we wait.” You looked at Rex who kept his eyes on you. He was standing straight, arms crossed. He seemed to have calmed down from you throwing yourself into the danger of the blue fog. 

“How long?” He asked, stepping over to you. He looked you over and frowned, “You’re starting to look pale.”

Well, you had less time than you thought. You glanced at your palms and flexed them, noticing the darkened veins. 

Damn, the Blue Shadow Virus works fast.

It never occurred to you that the virus could have worked much quicker when it was aerosolized. Judging by the way Ahsoka had begun to cough again, the medicine wasn’t as effective as you hoped as well. 

You turned to look at the analysis machine. It had beeped, and you read the results on the datapad attached to it. 

Bingo. 

Your com was on and to your lips without wasting a second, “General, I have the results. You’ll want to find something that contains anamitadine or risitine. That's the component that will break the virus’ capsid without poisoning us.”

Anakin’s voice came through, sounding relieved, “Thank you doctor!” he hung up, causing you to flinch slightly.

After a second, General Kenobi spoke through his own com, “We will speak with some of the scientists here in Theed. In the meantime, keep everyone as alive as possible.” 

“Will do, Generals.” You hung up the com and turned to Rex, “I suppose now we wait…” 

And wait you were forced to. Among those hours pacing and administering more medicine, you sat down, leaning against the wall. Ahsoka joined you on your left, resting her head on your shoulder.

“Hey Doc…?” The padawan spoke softly, clearly getting hit hard by the virus, “You're a good doctor.” she sounded tired. Fatigued and sleepy.

You looked at her, adjusting her position so she was more comfortable, “Thank you Ahsoka. You’re a good Jedi.” The poor girl was trembling slightly. She was clearly scared, being trapped and unable to do anything to save the people around her….

She was just a kid. A child who was forced to be a soldier. 

Padme sat down to your right, leaning her head against your other shoulder. Both of them were fatigued, remaining silent. 

Being as gentle and slow as you could, you made a call, “General. How’s the search for a cure?” Your sentence trailed as you started to cough. You’d give yourself some of those injections but you were running low. Everyone else needed them more than you. 

“Trying our best,” Obi-wan answered, “How's everyone else?”

You turned to look at both Padme and Ahsoka. Both of them had drifted to sleep. Good. they needed rest. Jar-Jar sat next to Senator Amidala, but kept space between him and her. He closed his eyes, intending to sleep as well, it seemed.

“Tired.” you croaked, “I don’t know how much time is left. I’ve run out of viral inhibitors.” 

“You need to hang on,” Anakin burst on the other end, “Please, you need to keep everyone alive.” 

You jerked, coughing into your palm before addressing the Generals, “I’m trying my best…just…hurry.” Your eyes looked up at Rex. He had regret written all over his face, but wordlessly, he sat down next to Ahsoka. The other troopers joined him. 

You learned from Hardcase that sometimes, after an extremely stressful mission, the clones will move their mattresses together and sleep in a pile. It was unknown to you if the drive for affection was a result of their upbringing or mandalorian DNA. Regardless, it was nice to know the men relied on each other so much. No one was ever truly alone.

“Vi Kelir oyacyir.” You whispered, causing Nere to look up at you. Even through the helmet you could tell he found comfort in your words.

“Vi Kelir.” He mumbled, laying his head on the lap of the other soldier.

At some point you had fallen asleep with the others. You drifted, wrapping an arm around Ahsoka to keep her close. Someone, Rex, interlocked his fingers with yours. Padme snuggled close into your side. 

For a second, you thought it was OK to die like this. 

Until you woke to a needle in your neck and an oxygen mask being shoved over your face. You jerked, ready to fight until you heard the voices of medical droids, “We are here to help you.”

“Get them all to the surface.” 

Medical droids… A rescue. 

The warmth of the pile you and the others had been in waned as everyone was pulled away and put onto hover stretchers. You turned your head, eyes open meeting Rex’s. He was pale, just like you and the others. Despite that, he gave you a tired smile. One you returned.

Generals Skywalker and Kenobi were just in time. 

As every one of you were carried from the underground lab, you tried to take in the state of everyone else. They were your patients. You had to make sure they were alright. However, the medical droid kept you down on the stretcher.

You only stopped trying to get up when you were outside and General Kenobi checked up on you while Skywalker was with Padme.

“Seems almost everyone made it out alive.” Obi-wan grinned as he complimented you, “Your skills are priceless Doctor. I’m not sure what we would have done without you.” He walked beside your stretcher as you were being loaded up into the LAAT to return to the venator, “Keep this up and I may steal you for my battalion. I’m sure the 212th can use your talents.” 

“Not a chance,” Anakin approached, putting a hand on your shoulder, “You saved them, Doctor. Thank you. Everyone will make a full recovery, all because of you.” 

You smiled despite the tiredness that was buried deep in your bones, “Happy to help, General.” you croaked, “I’m just glad the plan worked.” 

“Me too.” The brown-haired Jedi responded, “Padme could have…I mean, Ahsoka, Rex and Senator Amidala would have been lost without you.” His blue eyes weren’t looking at you, but at the senator loaded somewhere else on the LAAT.

Ah. Now it makes sense…

You reached up and put your hand on his, once he looked down, you spoke, “Don’t worry General. I made sure Senator Amidala and the others were safe.” You winked.

I know. And I won’t tell a soul.

He gave you a relieved smile.

[kechiwrites]

acute affliction

simon “ghost” riley x medic!reader

synopsis: Ghost pays a friendly visit to his favourite medic. Indecency ensues.

wc: 872

cw: fem!reader, semi-public sex, fingering, glove kink, cunnilingus, finger sucking, pet names (, dirty talk, our collective meow meow acting up, begging, no use of y/n ever. mdni.

an: another one, immediately. yes. i like their lil dynamic.

find part one here!

Maybe it's the butter yellow scrubs you’d chosen today, or the dress-code breaking nail polish you’d worn, or the teasing smile when you murmur his name.

Whatever the breaking point is, you need to know. Because all it takes is a simple soft toned greeting, and Ghost has you crowded against the clinic wall, his hand slithering into your waistband and under your panties with barely a “hello” back.

And perhaps, the curtained section in triage isn’t the best place to let your current situationship finger you into incoherence, but dear god, does Ghost make potential unemployment worth it.

“Jesus, fuck.” You gasp, toes curling in your ugly as sin regulation clinic shoes. He’s fucking you with one gloved hand, letting the thickness of his fingers coupled with the fabric stretch you open, forcing you to drip over his palm and wrist. Your scrubs are pushed up, the hem wrinkled haphazardly around your neck, but he doesn’t seem to mind, using his free hand to grope at your chest through your bra.

“So pretty. Be smelling you on me for days after this.” The sound of him sliding into the wet heat of your cunt fills the room, covering the ambient noise of the clinic and making your sweat slick palms scramble for purchase over his fatigues. Your searching fingers snag on a holster strap at his shoulder and you tug him towards you. You kiss the mask, feeling the form of his lips behind it. It’s not enough, never enough when it comes to Ghost, who keeps you at arm’s length anytime he isn’t fucking you. You try to stifle the whine building in your throat, keening and worryingly loud, letting your head fall back, baring your teeth as you try to stave off coming too quickly. It is unbelievable how fast he gets you there, all brooding tone, brutal hands and scary mask. It’s a wonder you haven’t come already.

“You’re drooling, you know.” He chuffs, and behind the mask you’re sure he’s…well certainly not smiling, maybe giving you the crooked half sneer you’ve only seen once when he’d pulled his mask up just a fraction so he could slide your clit against his tongue repeatedly, while he fucked you open with three digits.

Kinda like he’s doing right now.

“Shut the f-fuck up.” There’s barely any bite to it and if your brain wasn’t spinning and your skin didn’t feel like it was on fire, you’d probably be a little embarrassed about how quick you’re folding. You buck your hips towards him, pushing his fingers deeper inside until his gloved finger tips grind against that spot within you, the one that has you mumbling like an idiot and choking out his name.

“Si-”

“I don’t want to hear a word unless you're begging me to let you come.”

The stretch is intense, almost unbearable. Nevermind drooling, you’re almost fucking crying with the strain. His pace is fast and relentless and your thighs are quaking. But he’s not doing enough. Not doing it right.

And he knows it.

“Please! I want to come, please.” You cry out loud, now careless about who could potentially be just outside, hearing you give in.

“That’s it, give it up. I like you best. Just. Like. This.” His angle changes and a sob rips its way out of you in relief. Your thighs tighten around his wrist, and you bear down, letting your breath stall in your lungs until your orgasm crashes over you, racing through your body, wracking your limbs until they barely function. It’s hard to keep yourself up, especially once he pulls his fingers out of you, but you manage, slumping against the wall for support.

“Open your mouth.” He rasps, his accent curling over the words, stretching out the vowels. You concede, parting your lips and allowing Ghost to drag the soaked, gloved fingers over your tongue. Leather and slick overwhelm your senses, all while his eyes never stray from your lips, wrapped around his hand.

When he finally pulls back, your chest is cold, already mourning the heat he’s taken away with him. You give yourself a second for post-nut clarity to hit, and when it does, you’re pissed.

“Are you trying to get me fucking dismissed?” Your tone is caustic while you try to put your clothes back in order. Ghost is deceptively quiet, unmoving, just staring at you, even with his trousers tented in your direction. You look down at your scrubs, hoping you at least look semi-presentable. The wrinkles, however, are a dead give away. Practically broadcasting ‘I just got fingerblasted into fucking oblivion!’ in neon lights.

“You’re fine. I’m sure no one heard you.” He speaks, utterly unbothered.

Your irritation is renewed.

You grab a waiting clipboard off the examination bed next to you and punctuate your demand with swift, but ultimately harmless, whacks to his chest.

“Will you get. The fuck. Out. Of here?” There’s no way he isn’t letting you hit him. And he makes the fact obvious when he effortlessly plucks your makeshift weapon out of your hands and departs with a heavy handed slap against your ass, dropping the clipboard on your desk on his way out.

“See you around.”

Unbelievable.

endnotes: probably shouldn’t have posted these so quickly but they’ve been up on ao3 for a bit. support city girls, reblog stuff u like pt. 3 here!

[vampirevatican]

Hi, hope you're doing well!!

I love your Judd works and was wondering what your headcanons are for Judd having a sensitive girlfriend...

Like, they're polar opposites. She's quiet, sweet, and tender hearted. She keeps to herself for the most part and is good at self-regulating her emotions, but when she gets too overwhelmed, upset, mad, or stressed, she totally breaks and has a hard time cooling down. How would Judd handle her strong emotions?

I think Judd being super soft only for his sensitive girlfriend is such a cute concept 🥺

Thank you sm!! <333

omg thank you, that's so sweet!! also...

'oh my goodness i love this question!!! um, i think...'

a super soft gf for judd?? just what the doc ordered tbh

i think he'd handle her big emotions differently, mainly depending on the situation

like say she's really pissed and is about to get into a fight? i don't think he'd stop her unless it wouldn't be good for her in the long run. like if it risks her bright future or he could see her having to go to hospital

when it comes to work? be it a job or school then he'd definitely make sure she got breaks before she breaks down or burns out completely

he'd probably give her a rage room, like he'd build a cutesy shed and the inside of it is where she can scream, throw, punch, kick and break things as much as she wants

he's very much an actions over words, ya know? although if she just needed him to sit with her for a bit and repeat reassuring phrases he would

he'd hold her close and rub her back, or play with her hair, kiss her forehead and the top of her head

god forbid his family caused the break down, you're just consistently in his room as prisoner and if you have to use the bathroom he's a body guard at that point

some additionals bc gosh this is cute (and brainrot tings)

he will not do the soft sanrio cutesy things with her like matching outfits... UNLESS she found a way to make badtz maru, or another all black sanrio character, more punk

hear me out please... i can picture him 'tolerating' a lot of cute stuff for her, especially if she pulls puppy eyes

the raccoons? consider some of them dressed up with bows, silly outfits or even glitter

his van? there's holographic and cute stickers on it sometimes and yes he rides in her car sometimes and accepts that it's decked out in full girly uniform

actually his favorite sticker on her bumper is a cute bunny that says, 'i know i have a cute ass. can you stop riding it?' or it's baby baphomet stickers he picked out for her by the same artist (tiktok mention)

whenever he picks outfits for her? she has to hide whatever black she has, lest it looks more pastel goth/grunge

he loves her dearly. this is a sun and moon dynamic. this is one of those 'if anything happens to them id kill everyone in the room and then myself.'