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delimeful · 3 years

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nothing in this world (i wouldn’t do) (2)

warnings: mild blood/violence/injury, demon slaying, miscommunication, impromptu first aid, mentions of spiders, virgil tempting fate with his internal dialogue again

Whenever Virgil wasn’t sleeping, he was on the move.

At first, it had been because he didn’t trust himself around towns for too long, and there was always the chance of a real demon slayer getting wind of that ridiculous rumor and trying to track him down and kill him for it, even though it totally wasn’t his fault.

But then, as time went on, his bizarre pseudo-popularity seemed to have a different side effect.

Namely, every time he managed to save another human and hauled them back to the nearest town, he’d be practically swarmed. Antsy townsfolk would hurriedly inform him of the horrible tragedy they’d heard about up north, or the mysterious disappearances by the woods between this town and the neighboring one, or any sort of rumor that they thought a “demon slayer” should know about.

Where exactly were all the real demon slayers when people needed them? Why was he, an actual demon, seemingly more accessible for seeking help?!

Still, he wasn’t exactly doing anything else with his life (his unlife?), and if there were less demons, that meant the world would be safer for Thomas, didn’t it? So off he went, taking the less-traveled paths and following vague leads right into more danger.

His latest case had been a requested one, from a weaver in the last town. She had received a letter from her brother saying that he planned to come visit, and weeks later, he still hadn’t appeared or replied to her many return messages. The worry seemed to weigh her down like a physical burden, and he’d agreed perhaps more easily than normal.

Now, he was wedged into a shallow crevice in the mountainside and sorely regretting that decision.

The issue wasn’t the demon, no. He’d actually been making good progress on getting deeper and deeper into its territory in the past few days.

The issue was that he wasn’t the only one hunting it.

First, it had been a gaggle of young teens, and he’d been so alarmed that he’d almost dropped right out of the trees and ushered them back out of the woods. The less humans traipsing around this deep in demon territory, the better.

Of course, that was when he’d managed to spot the swords strapped to their sides, and suddenly, never appearing before a human again was looking more and more appealing. He’d immediately switched gears from tracking to stealth, and honestly, should have just turned tail and left then.

Instead, because those kids were around Thomas’s age and he still needed to find that weaver’s brother and also he was a sentimental idiot, he trailed them at a distance, always staying downwind and poised to bolt.

They handled themselves well at the beginning, and then the environment began to warp around them, and then it turned out there was more than one demon nesting here, and Virgil had been on the brink of jumping down and interfering, swords or no swords, when--

Between one blink and the next, one of the demons was cleanly beheaded.

The demon slayer-- for what else could he be-- smiled brilliantly as the body disintegrated to ash, holding a hand out to help one of the teens to their feet.

“It seemed like you all could use a little assistance,” he’d said, turning to face one of the other demons with a confidence that visibly unsettled it. Above, a circling crow cried out raspily. “My dear Missus informed me of your call for backup.”

If the stranger’s swift execution hadn’t tipped Virgil off, the way the baby slayers looked up at him with blatant awe was clue enough. This slayer was powerful and charismatic, whereas Virgil was neither of those things, so he was going to stay right here in his crevice until the whole situation had sorted itself out.

The three other demons seemed to have no such qualms, lunging at him in a semi-coordinated attack. The slayer handled them with terrifying ease, and for a moment it seemed that the battle had been settled, as simple as that.

Of course, that was when the landscape twisted further in on itself, buzzing like a disturbed wasps nest, and Virgil realized abruptly that this was the first time he’d seen so many feral, newly-created demons in one territory.

A stronger demon was keeping them all in line, like the queen of a hive. And it wasn’t at all pleased about the intrusion.

The slayer seemed to have caught on as well, his sword held aloft in threat. “Looks like the real fight starts now,” he said with a sharp, cocky grin.

Mere minutes later, the smile had grown considerably more strained.

Coincidentally, he’d taken considerably more damage in that time as well.

The slayer had given as good as he got, but against a demon’s healing factor, it wasn’t good enough. He was losing.

“Get out of here!” he instructed, and the baby slayers hesitated, clearly torn. He shot them a dazzling grin, hiding all signs of fatigue even as another blow rattled his sword. “Come now, don’t you know an order when you hear one? I don’t want any distractions while I handle this gruesome ghoul, so back to town with you!”

He cut off any further arguments by pointedly leading his attacker astray, giving them ample time to flee. Virgil felt some of the tension fade from him as the baby slayers got away cleanly, leaving just the slayer and the queen.

Really, he shouldn’t want the slayer to survive. Not when having a slayer that strong anywhere near him, or even in the same country as him, could easily be a death sentence. That didn’t change the jolt of panic that went through him when the queen finally gained the upper hand, knocking the slayer back into sheer cliff face hard enough to snap something.

… A slayer that protected others from demons so wholeheartedly was one that would protect Thomas.

The queen advanced towards the slayer, wounded and weakened but already gloating about how his flesh would be more than enough to completely rejuvenate her. Her entire focus was on the human’s fallen form.

Virgil dropped down on top of her soundlessly, claws piercing through muscle and fat until he’d torn her nearly clear in half. She shrieked in outrage, but a skull-crushing stomp was enough to knock her unconscious for at least a few moments.

The slayer, exhausted, half-crumpled against a tree, and his shoulder very clearly dislocated, looked up at him for a moment with something like hope.

When they met eyes, however, that was swiftly extinguished in favor of wary frustration.

“Another demon?” he complained, trying rather unsubtly to grasp for the sword that the queen had knocked free of him. “Exactly how many monsters can one fit on a single mountain?”

The sword was entirely out of reach, but Virgil kicked it a little further away for good measure. The slayer shot him a petulant glare.

Virgil pointed at a scrap of bloodied cloth left behind from one of the baby slayers, trying out a questioning rumble. Backup coming for you?

“I’m offended that you think I would answer that,” the slayer responded, nose upturned, “or any other monosyllabic interrogative questions, for that matter.”

Virgil growled low in his throat, frustration bubbling up. If he ditched the slayer here without backup, there was no guarantee that someone would find him before the morning came, and Virgil was relatively sure that the demon he’d just stabbed through wasn’t the only threat up here.

Not to mention the cold. He hadn’t thought the nights were cold enough to harm people yet, but demons seemed a lot more durable, and the slayer was shaking just slightly. He remembered the few times he’d had to sit out snowstorms while traveling back home up the mountain, and couldn’t help but feel sympathetic.

So, leaving the slayer behind to fend for himself wasn’t an option. That meant doing something insanely, dangerously stupid: taking the guy with him.

Precautions first, then. He was pretty good at hiding himself from other demons by now, but human scents were a lot more trackable.

Virgil scooped the slayer sword up off the ground by the hilt, grimacing at the burning sensation it emitted. The slayer’s jaw dropped.

“Hey! You can’t just take that!” he cried indignantly, starting off on a tirade about craftsmanship and integrity. His rant cut off sharply as Virgil raised the sword and brought it down on the queen’s neck.

His motions were stilted compared to anyone who actually knew how to use a sword, but it hardly mattered. The sun-blade cut through easily, decapitating her in one motion and leaving only ash behind. He took a moment to hope for the soul of whoever she’d been before being turned, and a longer moment for the weaver’s brother, who was surely dead. Exhaling lowly, he planted the sword blade-first in the dirt.

It was tempting to keep it; he’d certainly wished more than once for an easier way to deal with his adversaries than the bloody scraps he normally got in, but there was no way he was bringing a demon slayer and a demon killing sword with him. That was just asking for trouble.

“That demon did all the work in an honest fight against me, and yet it’s the backstabber turning against his own kind who actually gets to eat me? That’s sad, even for a demon,” the slayer bit out, still trying to inch his way back up into a standing position.

Virgil ignored his muttering and took a testing breath in through his mouth. The slayer was definitely bloodied, but most of the major injuries mustn’t have broken skin, because the smell wasn’t too bad. It probably helped that he’d managed to avoid being injured in this fight, and so didn’t have a desperate need to heal like normal. If he was lucky, he wouldn’t even need a nap to make up for it.

He reached out for the slayer’s collar, already mentally plotting out the most efficient way to a distant abandoned bear den when a piercing shriek sounded, and his vision was suddenly full of flapping feathers. He staggered a few steps back with a surprised yelp.

“No! Missus Fluffybottom, you beautiful fool!” the slayer cried out, sounding incredibly distraught.

Virgil swatted outwards and managed to catch his furious assailant on the second try, his hand easily big enough to grasp it. He drew it away from his face for inspection, and realized that the screaming and wriggling bundle of fluff was actually a young crow.

“Scourge! Fiend!” the crow yelled at him in a belligerent tone that was uncannily similar to the slayer’s. He blinked down at it, befuddled.

“Wait! Don’t hurt her,” the slayer said in the most subdued voice Virgil had heard from him all evening. He looked up and found that the slayer had managed to climb to his knees, but wasn’t struggling to move further. “She’s a simple bird, no threat to you. You’ve already got your prize, haven’t you?”

There was something uncomfortably desperate in his gaze, and Virgil realized with a start that the slayer absolutely believed he was about to kill his bird in cold blood. He opened his hand, bracing for another assault, but the crow kicked off and flew right to the slayer instead, nestling against his collarbone. “Roman, Roman, Ro-man!” it crooned.

“Get out of here, you finicky little fowl, go! Shoo!” the slayer-- Roman?-- commanded, to no avail. He glanced up at Virgil, lifting his good hand and turning his bad shoulder slightly as though to shield the little creature.

Virgil averted his eyes from the bird, hopefully conveying how much he didn’t care about her. If he had enough self control to not murder-kill people despite it being all monsters like him wanted to do, he wasn’t going to snap because a bird the size of his palm repeated some swears in his direction.

Back to business. He grabbed the back of the slayer’s outfit and pulled, hauling him up onto one shoulder like a sack of potatoes. … Or like a sack of other, non-food items. Virgil sighed through his nose. Whatever.

Roman sucked a breath in through his teeth as his injuries were jostled, and then immediately started squawking in protest upon realizing the indignity of his position. The crow-- apparently dubbed Fluffybottom-- repositioned herself to a perch on Roman’s calf and joined in on the complaints with her own raspy calls.

Virgil ignored them, already focusing on the trek ahead.

---

By the time they reached the cave, Roman had long stopped muttering creative obscenities under his breath.

The slayer might have actually fallen unconscious, but Virgil wasn’t going to jostle him around just to check. If he stopped focusing on their surroundings, he could easily hear Roman’s heart beating, the blood pumping beneath his skin, tantalizingly out of reach--

… He had mostly focused very hard on their surroundings. The point was, the slayer was definitely still alive, which meant him passing out during their travel was fine. Convenient, even.

It certainly made it easier to squat and carefully lower his body onto the cave floor without worrying about any sudden thrashing on Roman’s part. Laying flat on his back with only the slightest crumple to his brow, the guy looked a lot less intimidating. He was probably Virgil’s age, honestly.

He also looked unsettlingly corpse-like at the moment. Virgil considered for a moment, and then sidled over to Roman’s side, tugging his injured arm out of the curled up position it had taken. He carefully maneuvered it until it was straight out, forming a right angle with Roman’s side.

Then, he pulled, applying a slow, steady pressure. The misaligned bone shifted back into place with a sickening clunk, and Roman cried out as he regained consciousness. Virgil released him, and he instantly cradled the limb to his chest.

“What in the name of--,” he started, and then seemed to remember it all at once. Or the wave of pain from all those other injuries hit him all at once. One of the two.

Either way, he sagged back against the ground, squinting at Virgil suspiciously as he bustled around the small space. Missus Fluffybottom landed on his forehead, making him look even more ridiculous.

“I notice I am not devoured,” he finally spoke, almost conversational.

Virgil ignored him in favor of moving to arrange some firewood near the mouth of the cave.

“Not even a teensy bit,” Roman continued, making a show of inspecting himself for missing flesh.

Virgil continued to stack rocks around the wood. He was beginning to regret waking the slayer up, dislocated shoulder or not.

“Now, my silent saboteur, I want you to be honest. Are you planning to turn me into some sort of spider?” the slayer asked, and that was enough to finally make Virgil turn with an incredulous raised eyebrow.

“What?” Roman defended, pinkening. “That’s a real thing that a demon did to some people! And you seem... spider-y.”

Virgil scowled at the insulting way the comment was phrased. Spiders were cool and helpful and oh yeah, they didn’t annoyingly needle him while he was busy keeping them alive. He abandoned the fire to stalk closer and drop to a squat by Roman’s legs, dodging a wild kick easily. He pointedly tore a long swath of white fabric from the slayer’s overlayer.

“Hey! Do you even know how long embroidery like that takes--,” Roman cried, and Virgil smacked a hand over his mouth, drawing close and hissing quietly. The sound was close enough to a shush to get his point across, going by the way the slayer huffed indignantly but didn’t speak when Virgil pulled his hand away.

He did whine in protest when Virgil grabbed his injured arm, but then he went still and silent, like he thought any sudden movements would end with the whole limb removed. Virgil wrapped his forearm in the fabric, and then looped the extra around his shoulder, maneuvering him as painlessly as possible, and tied it off.

Roman’s silence suddenly felt distinctly different.

Virgil pulled him up into a sitting position by the front of his shirt, and tightened the knot slightly. The sling looked just about as good as could be expected, given the circumstances.

“You are actually a demon, aren’t you?”

Speech was one of those human things that Virgil still hadn’t recovered, but he thought that the sarcastic fang-bearing smile he directed at Roman spoke volumes all on its own.

“Then why are you tenderly nursing a demon slayer back to health?” he retorted, sounding bewildered and incredulous in equal measures.

Why are you pushing your luck? Virgil thought back, clicking his teeth in irritation and shoving the slayer back into a prone position.

Roman let out a high pitched wheeze, his good arm coming to cradle his ribs defensively. “Or not-so-tenderly, I suppose. The question stands!”

Virgil rolled his eyes and returned to the half-built fire. He’d pestered the only doctor in town for first aid lessons for months, he wasn’t going to stop practicing medicine just because of a little thing like being turned into a demon that craved human flesh.

To his surprise, the silence lingered as he worked, long enough that he turned and cast a suspicious glare over his shoulder at the slayer, who jolted nervously at his attention.

“Wh-what?” he asked, fiddling with the torn edges of his sling. “No escape attempts here, haha!”

“...” Virgil squinted at him and his blatant fake laugh for a long moment, trying to figure out just what was wrong with the scene.

Wait. Where was the bird?

A chill ran down his spine, and he twisted to stare at the mountainside beyond the cave entrance. No raspy-voiced baby crows in sight.

It had to have gone for help, knowing exactly where Virgil and its slayer had holed up. Roman knew he’d realized it, was watching him with the wary expectancy of a cornered hare in front of a trapper.

A surge of furious panic did bubble up in the back of Virgil’s mind, but he quelled it with relative ease.

If backup was coming, then the human was no longer his problem.

Pleased at the neat way the situation had resolved itself, Virgil tapped two fingers to his temple in a gesture of farewell and scrambled out the cave, scaling the cliff face and resolving to put as much distance between himself and this region as possible.

With any luck, he’d never run into that particular slayer again.

#sanders sides fic #sanders sides #ts virgil #demon slayer au #nitwiwd #nothing in this world i wouldnt do #my writing #writing #bthb #ts roman #kny fusion #am i forgetting tags?#im really fond of this one #i hope you guys like it :)

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detectivehannibal · 4 years

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Home Remedy

Hannibal Lecter x Reader

Warnings: Language.

A/N: Just a short little fluffy fic.

Word Count: 1,192

“Please. I look like I’ve been hit by a car.”

A rather unpleasant noise bellowed through your bedroom as you blew your nose for the hundredth time that day. If you were a celebrity, you would NOT want to be caught dead on camera anywhere at this moment. Your nose was rubbed raw, your eyes were sunken in, your cheeks were slick from the watering of your eyes. You looked, for lack of a better term, like a hot mess. It was probably just a cold. It was autumn time when the seasonal colds and flu came around. Considering you weren’t completely knocked on your ass, it was just a cold.

Still, that didn’t make things any less miserable. Your nasal passage was blocked every way to Sunday (which had given you the most striking headache) and sickly tears leaked from your eyes. On top of this, you were slightly fatigued and very cranky. You had been sick for about two days now. Everybody knows that the second and third day of sickness is the worst. You had been somewhat productive throughout the day, but the late afternoon hit and you crashed.

Hannibal was on his way, he had called because he “felt something wasn’t right” and when you told him you were sick, he dropped everything to come by. You didn’t really ask him to come over. Honestly, you didn’t want anybody seeing you like this. But if you were going to be in a serious relationship with him, you had to start letting him see you in your less attractive times.

Sure enough, you heard the rattling of your front door, signaling his arrival. Usually he would knock, but he got the notion that you’d never come and answer the door if he did. So, he used your spare key that was not so well hidden. He had been meaning to ask you about it.

“[Y/N]?” His accented voice called.

You lifted your head slightly from your stack of pillows, the thumping pain in your head getting worse;

“Up here!” You croaked out pathetically.

You fell back onto the bed, your head feeling like it would explode at any moment. You heard shuffling and footsteps coming up the stairs. Then you saw him standing over you. He cocked his head to meet your gaze, noting that you were basically under the covers;

“Hello in there,” He greeted; “How are you feeling?”

You groaned in response, pinching the bridge of your nose to relieve some pressure in your head.

“I figured as much,” He rummaged through the bag in his hand, pulling out a bottle of aspirin; “Two of these should help.”

You sat up, graciously taking the pills with the water on your bedside table.

“For a woman so sickly, you look just as beautiful.” He complimented.

You normally would blush and shy away from him, but you weren’t really in the mood for his antics;

“Please. I look like I’ve been hit by a car.” You griped.

He grinned in an amused way, sitting on the edge of the bed;

“You never did answer my question, dear.” He replied.

“Oh. I feel terrible. Do you know how many boxes of tissues I’ve gone through today? Four. Four whole boxes!” You exclaimed.

He raised his brows, surprised at your energy. The average person wouldn’t be up for such conversational time that you were currently having.

“That’s a lot of tissues.” He commented.

“I know! It’s insanity. I didn’t even know the body could produce that much...mucus.” You said amazed.

He moved on to his next piece of advice, the real reason he came over. He knew you likely had not eaten, because you tended to get lazy when you weren’t in your best shape.

“I think it would be wise for you to eat. I make a delectable chicken soup. Hot tea would also be beneficial.” He stated.

In your several months with Hannibal, he was very connected with his culinary senses. You had yet to figure out why. His words resonated with you, the heavy growl in your stomach being audibly heard. He took that as his cue, encouraging you out of bed and into the kitchen. Your kitchen was smaller than his. Definitely not as decorative and fit for cooking. However, he was a flexible man, so he could adjust.

He had brought everything he needed; carrots, celery, chicken (of course), onion, star anise, noodles, etc. He never came unprepared. He started with boiling a kettle of water to make tea. Hannibal was a strict believer in tea and what it could do for the body. You watched quietly as he boiled the water, prepared, and presented you with a cup of piping hot tea.

“And what kind is this?” You asked, taking the cup.

“Echinacea tea,” He responded; “It comes from a group of flowering plants in the daisy family. It boosts the immune system and is rich with antioxidants. I took the liberty to stir in a little honey as well. It makes it less bitter.”

You sipped the tea slowly, marveling at how it felt so good on your sore throat. It didn’t taste the best, but it was comforting. Hannibal sliced the carrots and celery, diced the onion, and prepared the chicken to be cooked in the broth on the stove.

You weren’t sure if it was the tea, the aspirin, or the smell of the food, but your headache was gone and you were beginning to feel a little better. It didn’t take him very long to cook the meal. Apparently, chicken soup isn’t that complex. He ladled it into a bowl, sliding it across the counter. You finished off your tea and gingerly began to spoon the soup mouthful by mouthful. It was nothing short of delicious and it felt very homey. The carrots were soft and sweet, the chicken was salty and fell apart in your mouth. It was the best thing you’d eaten all week.

“This is incredible,” You admired; “I really appreciate it.”

He was proud of his creation, but prouder that you were enjoying it.

“It’s my pleasure. Nothing to it,” He shrugged; “You’re beginning to look a little better.”

Truth was, you already felt better. It was crazy what a cup of tea and bowl of soup could do. He watched as you downed the bowl without a hitch. Your content sigh as a sign that you were satisfied. Now, all you needed was a shower and a good night of rest.

“I think I’m going to take a hot shower. Clear out the sinuses, you know?” You proclaimed.

“Of course. That would be wise.” He agreed, taking your bowl away.

A sneaky smirk riddled your face;

“Actually, Hannibal, I’m still feeling a little drowsy. I think I might fall asleep in the shower.” You hinted.

He was amused;

“Is that so?” He played along; “Well, I suppose I could lend a helping hand then. Just to ensure you don’t completely fall over.”

You cheerily agreed, leading him up the stairs to your shower and later to your bed. Perhaps, being sick wasn’t all THAT bad. Maybe...just maybe;

You wouldn’t mind being sick a little more often.

#hannibal #hannibal lecter #hannibal imagine #Hannibal TV #hannibal nbc #hannibal lecter x reader #hannibal lecter imagine #hannibal lecter imagines #hannibal lecter x reader imagine #detectivehannibal

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actualbird · 3 years

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Feel free to decline, but are you willing to share a bit more about what it's been like having COVID (symptoms, timeline, etc.)? I'm so paranoid about breakthrough infections after being vaccinated and hearing about other vaxxed people who are pulling through helps ease some of that fear!

hello!! and no problem!!!!

the family covid situation started when my dad got home from work (our area is stil under some kind of quarantine, but the philippines has had So Many Kinds Of Quarantine that i can no longer really tell what kind of quarantine we r under rip... but he goes to the office sometimes, is my point). his office is a few cities away. came home with bad flu symptoms on sept 13. we quarantined him in a room in our house but this house is Small and there are 8 people living here. in order, the others who got covid from him are mother then my younger sibling then me

my father and mother got pretty bad symptoms for their first 7 days. the whole experience, fevers, headaches, fatigue, loss of smell and taste. they were fully vaccinated with Sinovac but also they are both above 50 years old. my younger sibling just turned 18 this month so they arent vaccinated at all (gotta be 18 here to sign up for vaccines) and they also had it very tough for the first half; cough, fatigue, very sore throat after the cough. im 22 years old and i got my first dose of Astrazeneca in august but not the second dose, but my young age like my younger sibling helped me out a bunch in addition with the first dose. only symptoms i got was fatigue, some headaches, and I Could Not Breathe Very Well for those first 3 days but the breathing bit is my fault, im a smoker who has been smoking half a pack a day every day for the past 4 years lol.

now though, all four of us covid positivers are doing pretty well!!! my father and younger sib r all the way better now, and me and my mom are just shaking off the rest of the fatigue.

if theres one thing i can tell ya about symptoms personally, it is that they dont all show up in one go. they trickle in sometimes before going away and then Sometimes They Come Back skfkfkfjf. before yesterday i felt all the way better and then yesterday fatigue kicked my ass again. i just woke up today and im unsure yet about my physical state but today is still pnly my 8th day after symptoms started showing. ive got supposedly 6 more days to be in the clear.....

but yeah, being vaccinated absolutely helps!!!!!! please please if you can get vaccinated where you are, Do It. if you can choose your vaccine im insanely jealous (vaccine rollouts here are random, literal immunization gacha JFJDJFJ) and also pick one that has a great efficacy rate. im quite sure that the vaccines helped me n my parents pull through AND also stopped covid from spreading to the four other people in this household.

i hope this answer helps!!!!!! everybody, get vaccinated!!!!!!

#asks #anon #also gmorning all!! ive got a bunch of asks lemme jus have bfast and i'll get to u guys hehe

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youllallriseintheink · 3 years

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A Worthwhile Investment, chapter 3

Please enjoy this Grant x Shawn story. Yes, I split it into two short chapters. Apparently I can’t be succinct with these two... hopefully I made the right choice!

Next is Thomas x Allison!

Time went by. The studio worsened in most respects. Though its installation was nothing out of the ordinary, it felt as though the ink machine was creeping through the halls, its long pipes growing into new areas. Wherever it went, it left the scent of sickly rubber ink and stained through the walls, like a creeping, musty black mold. That alone would have brought down morale, but it was nothing compared to the financial crisis. Every department was operating on a slashed budget, and yet Joey refused to lower his demands on any of them. Whenever someone quit out of anger, there was relief- it meant that those who remained would be less likely to be laid off. The studio was a rotting body, ravaged by the parasite of the ink machine and struggling to move its massive weight now that so many of its workers were gone.

Grant was not handling it well. His department understood that it the studio’s financial problems weren’t his fault, but he didn’t blame anyone else for hating the man who had decided how much to slash their budget, or who told them, while they were already underpaid, that their paycheck would be late because there simply was no money to pay them. It was his job to prevent this from happening. But with Joey spending more and more on Bendyland and the ink machine, and refusing to downsize anything when it was really overdue to do so, it was proving impossible. It was soul-crushing.

Things weren’t easy on Shawn, either. Fewer staff for the same amount of plushes meant having to work longer and faster, and making plushes out of cheaper materials meant that there was less room for error before the cheap, delicate things they’d been reduced to selling simply fell apart. Shawn was getting screamed at more than usual nowadays.

At least they had each other. During better times, their relationship had been on and off. There were periods when one of them just couldn’t handle the other’s issues or couldn’t handle being in a relationship at the moment, and they’d break up, only to get back together after a while. Shawn had even dated other people during their temporary breaks. Neither of them were especially serious about their relationship, so it worked for them. Now, they were together for the foreseeable future. There was little time or energy for romance anymore, but they stole the moments they could and hoped that things would eventually improve. Shawn had even moved into Grant’s house at the time. This was good for both of them- living with someone else made things easier domestically during this busy time, and it was good to come home from a difficult day at work and meet up with someone who loved you and brightened your mood.

“Ah think we should quit,” Shawn said one day over dinner. “None-a this is healthy. I’m sick of it, you certainly ain’t yourself, and anyhow, yer always saying the company won’t last another year.” Shawn saw Grant hesitate. “Well, Ah’m quitting. Join me or don’t, Ah don’t care.”

“I have a feeling that things will improve once Bendyland opens. It’s supposed to open in three months,” well, it was supposed to open over a year ago, but hopefully they could reach the new deadline, “so, let’s see where the studio is in five months. If we’re not having a much better time at work by then, let’s do it. Or you can quit sooner- please, don’t let me hold you back. But that’s when I’m doing it.”

“Five months sounds great! I’ll mark it on the calendar. To a chance at a better life!”

Grant forced a smile. “To a chance at a better life.” He honestly wished Shawn would just quit so that he didn’t feel like he was holding him back.

There were a few reasons that Grant didn’t want to quit. It wasn’t about money (he had some saved up), or fear that he couldn’t get another job (he had the experience to land another). Mostly, it was about pride. Grant might be the financial manager of a failing massive company, but still, he was the finances manager of a massive company- with a department working under him and his own secretary. This could be the highest-profile job he would ever have. He also worried that the next job would be just as miserable. He recognized, though, that he couldn’t stay in an awful work environment for those reasons, let alone keep Shawn in one. And no matter what, the studio would be dead in a few years, so he’d have to leave it eventually. And heck- maybe Shawn was right. Maybe it would be better.

---

It was while Grant was walking down one of the Joey Drew Studios hallways that it happened, though it had seemed rather insignificant at the time. A burly, blond GENT worker deliberately loosened a bolt on one of the ink pipes as he passed, spraying a cloud of ink fumes into his face.

“That’s for getting my buddy laid off,” the man grumbled as Grant coughed on the fumes.

“Hey!” another GENT worker, shouted, “pull another stunt like that, and you’ll be the one leaving for good!” The GENT worker ran over to Grant. “You alright, sir? I can pay for the dry cleaning if you want.”

“Don’t bother,” Grant snapped, “just teach your men some respect.”

Grant looked down at his thoroughly stained suit and dress shirt and weighed whether to arrive at his next meeting late or drenched. He decided on the former and turned for the exit. As he left, he heard one of the GENT men telling the other, “that’s how you get our budget cut even more!” It was rather strange to be such a frightening creature nowadays.

By evening, Grant was feeling sick- as though he had a flu coming on. He spent a few days laying around before returning to work, feeling just as badly. He couldn’t afford more time off if he didn’t want to end up entirely buried by work. Shawn was mildly concerned when it was a few weeks in and the illness didn’t seem to be going away- and that Grant was intent on working through it- but all he could do was support Grant through it and give him the space he needed. Even in the beginning, it was extremely frustrating that his boyfriend was suffering and unable to do much of anything outside of work, but to an extent it was nothing Shawn wasn’t used to- Grant had had bouts of depression nearly as bad as this. As time went on, Shawn noticed some more disturbing changes.

It was about two weeks in that the voice emerged and the hallucinations began. Grant had been in his office when he’d heard a pained scream- seemingly from right outside of it. He rushed out, expecting to see an injured person or an emergency of some sort. Instead, he found only his secretary, perfectly calm and looking at him as though he was an alien. “Do you know where that came from?” Grant asked.

“Where what came from?” Oh, that judgmental stare.

“The scream? You heard the scream, right?”

“No.”

Grant cringed and closed the door to his office.

The headaches, the brain fog, the fatigue, and now the hallucinations, a voice said. It was a voice that sounded as real as the scream had, but it wasn’t one he’d heard before. Do you want to know what’s causing it? There was a pause, as though Grant would answer and let his secretary think even worse of him. You’re losing your mind. You know what they do with crazy people, right? An image of an electric chair flashed through Grant’s mind, followed by an image of locked insane asylum doors and tools used for a lobotomy. Just carry on. Try to act normal, and don’t let anyone know about this. I’ll be here when you need me. Grant sat back down at his desk, taking a look around the room as though he could find where the voice was coming from. Finding nothing, he returned to his paperwork.

A few weeks later, Grant decided to coax some answers from the voice. It was absurd- if it was right, and it probably was, the voice came from him, and couldn’t know anything he didn’t. But he had few options. His symptoms were becoming glaringly obvious. Shawn had noticed that he was spacing out during conversations, and his department was noticing that he couldn’t keep track of time and was making mathematical errors he never would have before. Shawn had even seen him react to hallucinations a couple times, and it frightened him. Grant knew he needed to figure this out before it hurt his professional life, or hurt his relationship any further.

It was a cold winter’s night. Grant returned home after work- thankfully Shawn wasn’t home yet- and went to his room to interrogate.

“Alright,” he said, facing the wall. “Tell me what I have. If there’s a way to fix it, I’m going to.”

Shawn had been unable to sleep that night, so he heard Grant’s voice. It didn’t bother him, though, until Grant started yelling. Shawn got up and went to investigate. The house was totally dark except for the light coming from Grant’s room. Shawn creaked open the door. Grant was facing a wall, shifting his weight as though he might spring on his invisible adversary if it proved necessary.

#Bendy and the Ink Machine #shawn x grant #shawn flynn #grant cohen #my fanfiction

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thegothicviking · 3 years

Text

Have tested myself for Covid again. May not get the results until tomorrow.

But I am pretty sure I am infected. If this is not Covid then it sure is some hardcore flu! Cus' OH BOY!

For the past two days I've felt as if someone has been pulling my arms from behind and pressing their foot against my upper back/in between my shoulders and also into the back of my neck. And I have not been lifting weights and I have not slept in a weird position. I know how that feels like and this ain't that sis!

Yes I have my period now, but the cramps some days ago were insane. Insane!! I was at the brink of CRYING.

AND my period was 1 week late! Even if my period has never been on time (I have POCS) it has always been only a couple of days late or has arrived a week too soon. Never a whole week too late! And I have read that as weird as it sounds; Covid-19 can have an impact on your period. Yeah...I know. Weird!

However; what people seem to forget is that Covid doesn't need to give you symptoms that involves cough/lung/your breath.

READ THAT AGAIN!

Sometimes it can be something as simple as muscle pain...headaches..feeling dizzy...feeling fatigue/exhausted...lack of apetite...loss of smell and/or loss or taste...nausea...Diarreha..stomach aches/cramps...constipation.

And sometimes there are literally

NO SYMPTOMS AT ALL

So far I have only felt exhausted and it feels like I have a fever, I am dizzy, I have a headache, nechpain, back aches (especially between my shoulders) nausea/feeling sea sick, clogged up nose (but no dripping).

My point?

Don't wait (seriously!!) Do not wait for breath/lung and fever related symptoms before getting tested for Covid 19!

Listen to your body. If something seems off and you feel sick, then something IS off and there is a freakin' pandemic going on! If you have the opportunity to get tested..

Get tested! Get tested! Get tested!

It's much better to get tested often for "no apparent reason" than risking walking around with Covid and not knowing it because "Oh. You haven't coughed or felt feverish yet..."

Covid can be a lot sneakier than you think!

#like yo this is my third test and if you have the opportunity ...there is NO EXCUSE to not test yourself!#covid 19 #corona #personal viking

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fallingsunflower · 3 years

Note

hii, sorry it’s not really about our todays topic but i believe a while ago you did a post with your covid symptoms?? could you please somehow link this?

hi love. I actually have no idea where it is as it must have gotten buried lmfao I'll just rewrite it.

Dec 21 - was when I was most likely exposed. I can't be 100% sure though but it was sometime between then and Christmas Eve.

Dec 24 - I started feeling muscle aches, specifically on the left side of my body. No clue if it's related to Covid or how I'm sleeping but thought I'd mention it lol I had already been exposed at that point.

Dec 26 - muscle aches in my body I brushed off from dehydration. My left arm and both legs. Didn't last super long so I didn't think much of it.

Dec 27 - I was fine in the morning. Maybe a bit of a scratchy throat but otherwise, felt good. I started getting sick later in the day. Muscle aches, sinus pressure, headache, sore throat, jaw pain, fever. Came on suddenly like the flu but less severe (I was SUPER sick with the flu early 2020).

Dec 28 - more of the same ^ but I had both a fever and the chills lol I was sweating through literally everything while freezing at the same time. I think my fever reached like 102. Developed a bit of a cough (wet and dry). I didn't have breathing problems though so it was probably just dry throat/result of mucus. I was STUFFED UP lol

Dec 29 - basically the same ^. Went for my PCR covid test and literally couldn't drive though. I had insane brain fog and trouble thinking. Not quite sure how I didn't crash because I found myself drifting a lot while driving. I didn't realize how bad it was until I reached my destination, and I had to get tested. I didn't have another option.

Dec 30 - still the same ^

Dec 31 - Started to feel somewhat better. I think my fever wasn't as bad. Muscle aches weren't as prominent. Still had a slight cough. Wasn't as stuffed up. Brain fog was still there.

Jan 1 - Felt okay-ish. Fever still there but not bad. Runny nose. Slight cough. Slight congestion. I actually had to go out this day (long story) and could barely do it. The fatigue was so bad. Brain fog still there. Also this is when I got my positive test results back.

I don't remember much after that, like what symptoms went away first. I just started to gradually get better. I was out of work the entire following week though. I think probably by that Wednesday or Tuesday I was basically back to "normal". I think the big thing for me was fatigue though, and that's something I'm still dealing with. It's FINALLY getting better though.

Also the brain fog eventually went away about a week after lol I forced myself to drink a ton of water and read like allll the time (idk if reading helped but I think it did). ALSO also I had a couple other neurological issues. I smelt rotting meat for a couple days and my left arm/forehead felt like it was burning (to be fair the burning could have been from not taking another medication I was on).

For reference I'm fully vaccinated. Not boosted though as I'm not due for my booster until April.

My whole family had Covid, and I'm assuming we had the same strain. My mom and step dad are vaccinated and were okay. My uncle was not vaccinated so if you'd like to hear his symptoms/journey with it, let me know because it's a lot different than mine.

It really wasn't awful. I never had any breathing problems, unlike when I had the flu. My heart is also fine (got that checked). My blood oxygen levels are good. It was more than just a cold but it wasn't super severe.

Hope that helps!

#covid

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atlas-of-a-human-soul · 5 years

Text

Fix Me (doctor/soulmate AU) {2}

Summary: Ethan wakes up to a whole new set of challenges with his soulmate, but he had no idea just how deep the trouble she would get into would be. With a medieval infection in the hospital, Ethan only thinks of her.

Warnings: angst, slight fluff, swearing, medical descriptions of things some might find nauseating, infectious disease

Word count: 5.3k

Fix Me (doctor/soulmate AU) series Masterlist

A/N - heavily inspired by Grey’s anatomy, my own experiences and thoughts, but also by songs: Birdy - Not about angels, Bear’s den - Fortress, Matthew and the atlas - Out of the darkness, Harry Styles - Falling, Kodaline - Wherever you are.

I really hope you guys like it! Feedback is always wanted and appreciated, no matter how small or big it is!

If you want to be tagged for future parts, reply down below.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Pistanthrophobia - fear of trusting others

Waking up alone is the last thing Ethan expected, but to wake up alone and nearly five hours later was definitely unbelievable. Not a single page? Not one of his interns fucked up so badly that they paged him thousands of times? Maybe he misjudged this generation after all?

"Nah", Ethan mumbled to himself, shaking his head as he pulled himself up to sit. Rubbing his cheeks, he tried to stop himself from smiling, to stop the warm feeling in his chest where she laid atop him but he couldn't. Even if she left before he had woke, Ethan was happy with their progress, although leaving him in bed alone seemed to have become her memo.

Dragging himself out to get a cup of coffee during this tireless double shift, Ethan wondered if she'd be waiting for him close by or if she was feeling better after losing her first patient, but he found himself disappointed when he couldn't find a single trace of her. His phone vibrated and even if he wanted anything but to pick up the call, the only person he knew was persistent enough to wait for the last ring was his brother and he always picked up Grayson's calls.

"What do you want?" Ethan grumbled, slipping a few coins into the vending machine for that cup of coffee he was dying for, not in the mood to speak but he thought it might be important.

"Good morning to you too, sunshine." Grayson chuckled, waiting to hear his brother groan or growl on the other line and he didn't have to wait for long.

"Just wondering if you misplaced something? Or someone?" Grayson teased as if he didn't know his brother isn't a morning person and he was definitely not in the mood for games.

"What are you talking about?" Ethan frowned, grabbing his cup eagerly as it fills up.

"Just heard one of your interns ask for a transfer and they told her no, but she seemed adamant that the cardio resident she's assigned to isn't right for her education here." Grayson licked his lips, aware he's pulling at the right strings because even if he never saw the elusive Y/N, he felt like her description matched the girl Ethan told him about a year ago, his instincts screamed it was her, and he was quite unhappy with his brother's lack of sharing for he would have expected at least a text from Ethan about his soulmate being his intern.

"What was her name? Did you hear that?" Ethan cleared his throat, pursing his lips nervously because he really fucking hoped the progress he thought he made wasn't just erased. Did he scare her off?

"Y/N Y/L/N. Your soulmate?" Grayson clarified and Ethan leaned against the wall with his eyes closed. He managed to fuck it up, he just didn't know how.

"Did she see you?" Ethan asked, gnawing on the inside of his bottom lip, annoyed with himself because it seems as if every step he takes toward her, she takes two back.

"Nope, but I did tell the nurse I'll take your interns over for the day. They should see the miracle of life before they see death. Thank me later." Ending the conversation, Grayson moved to meet the interns at the changing rooms, eager to meet the little Miss who drove his brother up the wall. In a way, Grayson was fascinated by this woman who seems to disappear like a ghost every time Ethan was near and he didn't understand why she was fighting this unmovable force of nature.

"So, uh, I heard you killed a guy on your first day." Cocky intern leaned into Y/N who was just trying to tie her shoes and get on with the day. Escaping Ethan's arms wasn't easy, especially when he seems to have a death grip in his sleep. But she had to go, to leave and find a way to switch mentors before she fell for him, the guy who clearly wasn't falling for her.

"I'm Brett and I like girls who get their hands dirty." His cheshire grin made her sick to her stomach because as attractive as he is with his pale blue eyes and blonde hair, she had absolutely nothing but disgust for him.

"Leave her alone, asshole. She doesn't care who you are." The only other female intern spoke up and Y/N chuckled lowly, nodding in agreement.

"I'm Alex." The blonde settled beside her, shooing Brett away with her hand until he rolled his eyes and left to get dressed.

"Y/N. Thanks for getting rid of the fleas." Y/N leaned back on the wall as Alex laughed and Brett turned back just to make an annoyed grimace at the two.

"So, how was the boss yesterday? Was it easy working with a hot genius like him? Did you have sex in the on call room?" Alex whisper shouted in excitement and Y/N's face fell, realizing Alex won't be the friend she hoped she would be a moment ago. She just wanted gossip.

"He's a talented surgeon and a good teacher. As for the rest, this isn't Grey's anatomy, on call rooms are for rest not sex." But before she has a chance to get up, someone walks in - authoritative and eager; way too eager with his pink scrubs.

"Good morning. My name is Grayson Dolan and I am to be your boss man for the day." The moment Y/N looked at him, her heart stopped. There are too many similarities between Grayson and Ethan and she was realizing one irrefutable fact.

"There's two of you?!" The words escaped her and she slapped a hand over her mouth as quickly as possible, just not fast enough to stop herself from becoming an embarrassment.

The left corner of Grayson's lips curled up, forming a smirk as he turned his attention to Y/N, taking a good look of what destiny had chosen for his twin and he knew she was trouble even without Ethan's complaints about his torn up heart. She looked like she was made for heartbreak but also the loveliest nights.

"My brother and I may wear the same face but there are very few similarities between us which I'm sure you will learn in time." Grayson winked, before turning his eyes to the rest of the room. "You all will. After all, we will be seeing each other weekly from now on. One of you will be mine for a week until you have your OBGYN hours filled."

Swallowing thickly, Y/N looked away nervously as she fidgeted with her stethoscope. She felt warm, as if her body forgot to regulate her temperature and she could hardly breathe.

'Did it get hot in here? Or is this guy's sunshine personality setting every room aflame?' She wondered silently, thinking how as awkward as it was around Ethan, at least he didn't force conversations and he didn't seem like the overly curious type that pries into people's lives as Grayson does. He looks like the kind of a person people go to in order to feel better, for his warmth and cheerfulness to transfer onto them - he was the definition of sunshine, a cure for dark and depressing people and Y/N was certainly one of them. But she didn't want a cure and she didn't want him to meddle. For the first time ever, Y/N wanted to spend time with Ethan, in the comfort he gave because he didn't force happy onto her and she felt safe in feeling what she feels, knowing she didn't have to adjust, to change. It was the first time she hoped for Ethan, but it wouldn't be the last time.

And lucky for her, he showed up right on time, just as she started losing her shit.

Fingers snapped in front of her face and Y/N gasped, blinking fast as her eyes refocused on identical twins that stood before her. "Hey! Are you listening to any of this?" Grayson questioned with a slight smile, genuinely entertained by her and her dreamer personality because he was sure it would both annoy and compliment Ethan's personality. Ethan is a dreamer too, but never at work and that would surely be a challenge for the pair.

"Um. Missed the few last minutes. Probably should get a cup of coffee." She raised her eyebrows, trying to seem convincing because she didn't want to be unprofessional but she also didn't want to piss off two of her teachers.

"Well, let me sum it up. You're in the pit today, page me if you find any pregnant women in need of a consult or any cardio patients. That's when you -" Stopping him mid-sentence, Ethan jumped in. "That's when you page me."

With a nod, Y/N pressed her lips together and pushed her hands into the front pockets of her lab coat, hoping they would just stop staring at her so intently, as if they're expecting something of her and she can't understand what that is.

"Got it."

She rushed out of there faster than humanly possible, needing room to breathe because for whatever reason, the Dolan twins made it impossible to draw in a proper breath during that short interaction.

Expecting insanity in the ER, she had managed to eat a granola bar before heading into a rather calm emergency room. Using the chance, she introduced herself to the staff, learned the proper numbering of beds and trauma rooms and a few hours in, she finally got a proper case.

"I'm doctor Y/L/N." She smiled, gathering information from the patient while doing a checkup.

"So you're an exterminator?" She kept her voice airy, her tone pleasant as she noted the man has a fewer, complains of chills, muscle aches, diarrhea, cough and fatigue.

'Likely the flu', she presumed.

"For the last thirty years. Used to be a banker, a painter and a writer in my three hundred years." Hearing that sparked jealousy in her heart. She shouldn't be jealous about other people managing to do all they wanted to in their long lives, but she was. She had plans of her own and they seem unlikely with her current soulmate situation.

"Sounds like quite an adventurous life." She smiled, checking for swollen lymph nodes. Finding quite swollen, tender but firm lymph nodes, Y/N frowned, cold sweat forming at the back of her neck as the man coughed. Managing to turn her head to the side, she grasped for a facemask and placed it for protection as she prayed. Caution is always better than reckless endangerment.

'Surely it can't be...'

"Is everything alright?" The man questioned, startled by the sudden change in her stance and the odd look in her eye.

"Can you please take your socks off?" She asked, hoping it won't be what she thinks it is because that would be just her luck.

However, the moment this man took his socks off, he took a few fingers off in the process and no matter how many times she had read about gangrene, she still wasn't prepared to see it up close and personal. The foul smell of rotting flesh made her stomach turn and she struggled to keep her composure. You're supposed to be calm and collected but they don't really prepare you for this in med school.

"Oh, God!" She exclaimed, looking around wildly to figure out what to do.

"Stay calm, sir!" She told him but she seemed more upset than he did. As if he knew it was in such a state, as if he had come in for the gangrene in the first place - the 'by the way' syndrome at its best.

With shaky hands, mask in place, she stumbled to the nurse's station and lowered her voice, careful not to touch anything or anyone.

"I have strong suspicion that we have a case of the Black Death...the pulmonary type, and I've been exposed. Make sure all the patients are isolated just in case and then make sure so am I. I'll take samples for the lab, send them as emergent testing, I'll write a CITO order. And disinfect every inch of this floor." Y/N ordered, her voice shaky as she set herself back to see the patient again, preparing to take samples to confirm her diagnosis. She hoped to God she managed to get that mask on in time, swearing under her breath for being reckless and assuming it's the flu and that she'd be fine. She finally got her immune system up, she finally got her vaccines and she got cocky, thinking she's untouchable and now while everyone else is delivering babies or having once in a lifetime surgeries, she'll be in isolation because she got a patient with a medieval diagnosis. Just her luck.

And while Y/N was being quarantined along with the three patients who had the misfortune of being in at the same time and one nurse that admitted the patient, the entire ER closing for disinfection, Ethan and Grayson were drinking coffee in peace.

"She's definitely a piece of work." Grayson chuckled lowly, raising the cup to his lips casually as if Ethan wasn't snorting at his statement, aware of that fact even without his brother pointing it out.

"Young too. She's a baby surgeon, Ethan." Grayson deadpanned, taking a sip before putting his cup down. Curling his fingers around the cup, he scrunched the plastic cup easily, something he did with every plastic cup he drank from.

"Is there a reason why you're stating all known facts?" Ethan sassed back, sarcastic undertones very clear and matching his annoyed face. While Grayson sat back relaxed, Ethan tapped his fingers on the desk continuously, telling just how difficult Ethan finds the situation at hand. He wanted to know this girl so badly but she didn't seem to share that want. How do you love someone who doesn’t want to be loved?

"Yeah. I'm tryna’ help you bro. She's young, meaning she didn't have a hundred years like you to do her thing first. She didn't have time to be her before being your soulmate. Besides, did you even tell her you're her soulmate? Does she even know it's you? Because if you're not ready to risk your pride and heart for her, why are you expecting it from her?" Grayson raised an eyebrow, waiting for Ethan to open his mouth and say something right, something that would lead him on the path toward her and just as his lips part and the lost look in his eyes fades, Alex, the intern he barely remembered by anything except her being the only other woman with a fancy stethoscope, walked in with news he never wanted to hear.

"Y/N, I mean one of your interns is in quarantine!" She screamed more than spoke, her eyes wide and cheeks flushed.

"What the fuck do you mean by quarantine?!" Ethan jumped to his feet in an instant, feeling as if a bucket of ice cold water fell on his head and he had never been as wide awake as he is now.

"It's the black death."

Autophobia - fear of being alone

Loneliness had never bothered her before. Accustomed to the lone wolf kind of a life, Y/N had started questioning the unsettling feeling in her chest. After all the time she had spent on her own, she was scared by the coldness inside her that lived within ever since she snuck out of Grant’s apartment where she had left her underwear along with her virginity. That feeling of coldness was gone since he had appeared in her life again and now when she found herself isolated, alone again, she felt the cold grasp at her insides once more and for the first time in her life, Y/N wasn’t prepared to be alone again.

“Hey there. Feeling good?” She didn’t meant to smile when she heard the sound of his voice nor did she mean to let her eyes light up with the sight of his pretty brown eyes on the other side of the glass. She hadn’t expected her heart to jump inside her chest nor did she expect her cheeks to flush considering she’s wearing just a hospital gown and while she managed to hide her ass, she still felt exposed, indecent.

“Yeah. Already started myself on antibiotics before the CDC came in.” She shrugged slightly, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip as she approached the glass slowly, wondering if he’d be proud of her for managing to handle the situation so well. Or as well as it was possible in the moment. She didn’t expect Ethan to be anything but.

“Great!” He exclaimed with a smile that quickly turned sour and her own smile fell, the light in her eyes fading as he started yelling. “NOW I GET TO SCREAM AT YOU FOR BEING SO RECKLESS!”

Pacing left and right, he managed to keep his eyes on her, his hands shaking as he questioned her.

“I’m not sure what the hell you were thinking going to talk to a patient with a flu without a mask or why you were even seeing a flu patient when you’re a surgical intern! Now I’m down an intern and when we said some of you won’t make it till the end of the training, we didn’t mean you should go and recklessly handle patients until you catch a deadly infectious disease!” Throat hoarse, aware of the wandering nurses’ eyes that held judgement and the slightest bit of entertainment, Ethan stopped to take a deep breath and at least try to stop the never ending pounding of his heart and maybe it’s wrong of him to yell at her when she’s in a stressful situation of her own, but she is his soulmate and he barely had the chance to love her and he is scared to death he never will. So yes, he is angry and he is struggling to understand her and the dustiest parts of her soul but it’s beyond him. She’s beyond everything and everyone he has ever met.

“Reckless?” She snorted, folding her arms across her chest, shifting her weight onto her left foot before she too had something to say and while she wasn’t necessarily shouting, she wasn’t quiet either.

“I had my flu shot so I though approaching the flu patient without a mask might be less frightening for the poor man. Also, there was no one else in the ER to see the patient but me! Was I supposed to prolong his suffering when I’m perfectly capable of doing a physical myself? I did what any doctor would and more considering I made a rather remarkably rare diagnosis so quickly that I prevented that man from getting the rest of the hospital staff exposed! You should be proud of me, not pissed off!” Eyebrows knitted together, her eyes narrowed at him and lips pressed together, Y/N stood her ground, refusing to apologize for what she did because she didn’t think she made a mistake. Sure, the mask was a miss, but she would learn from her mistakes…if she gets the chance.

“You page me if she gets symptoms!” Ethan didn’t even spare Y/N a glance as he ordered the nurse and left her alone in that glass room that felt like a prison. He just stormed out, like a man with a paper sword that couldn’t handle losing an argument. For a girl who was all too used to hospitals, she wasn’t quite prepared to go through yet another period of time in a hospital bed.

“Do you need anything else, sweetie”, the nurse asked her, handing her a thoroughly cleaned stuffed animal to hold, her favorite one. A girl of mere ten years facing such a monstrous disease that grew within? It made the nurses cry after every shift. All the kids in the department did, as rare as it was.

“Are my parents coming?” Y/N asked quietly, her voice hoarse. Anyone’s voice would be hoarse after throwing up for five days straight, unable to keep anything down.

“I’m sorry baby, not this week.” The look of pity on the nurse’s face was what Y/N hated the most. She hated being treated like a baby, like a delicate little porcelain doll that couldn’t handle the world. She had faced more in her short life than those who chased immortality. She was very aware of the toxic relationship her parents shared and how they prioritized each other over her. She had learned to accept that.

“That’s fine. At least I have Mr. Cuddles.”

Y/N wished she had Mr. Cuddles now, to just have something or someone to hold. She wished she could relieve the sadness and the annoying sense of abandonment Ethan’s abrupt leaving left her with. She wanted him to stay a while longer for he made her feel lighter without even trying and she hated him for being an ass to her and even more so when he didn’t visit her for the next two days.

Thantophobia – phobia of losing someone you love

However, she didn’t know he was there whenever she was asleep, watching her with a worrisome heart and a tired mind. He knew she was a little troublesome, but he didn’t know she would make that tiny streak of silver hair turn into a full set of grey hair. It’s what he’d be facing in less than a year if her behavior continues as it is.

What he didn’t expect is for her to open her eyes in the middle of the night, finding him on a chair with his head resting on his numb propped up hand. She rolled her eyes at him instantly, pushing herself up with some difficulty before detaching her own IV.

“Scared I’ll die?” She asked groggily, taking a sip of her water to soothe her dry throat. She was definitely starting to feel ill, hating how her body turned weaker and weaker as it did when she was on her treatments. She didn’t want to go back to being the poor girl who sat alone in her room with no family to see her. Making friends with other patients was easy, but they could never touch, never risk getting each other sick. They were social distancing by sitting on opposite beds or coming to each other’s rooms and sitting on a chair by the door when one was too sick to get out of bed. But she didn’t have any patients to make friends with now.

“Yeah. But not from the plague.” Ethan huffed, swallowing before speaking. “Your tests are still being done, will probably be negative but you do have strep, so we’ll have to treat that unless you want to be on my table in about thirty years with faulty heart valves.” Standing, Ethan nodded to the penicillin she had inside her room, hinting it’s better she takes it on her own, although he didn’t mind getting into a hazmat suit if it meant seeing her ass again.

“Great. So if I do have it, I’ll be dealing with two diseases at once. Nice. Nice luck I got here.” Sarcasm dripping with every word she formed, Y/N grabbed the prepared medicine and groaned. She hated getting shots, even more so penicillin ones because they always hurt like a bitch. However, she had a fairly high pain tolerance after everything she’s been through. The nurses used to say when she complained of pain, they immediately called doctors to check up on her because her six was usually a ten on other kids’ pain scale.

Palping, she found the site she’s supposed to stick a needle in. Closing her eyes as she shakes her head, Y/N let out a dry chuckle at the ridiculous situation but she was ready to do it anyway. She didn’t care about Ethan being there, he couldn’t see her ass from where she was standing, but he could see her face. So, she took great care not to make a face when the needle pierced her skin nor when the penicillin started burning, her entire leg feeling like it would give out. Slowly, she injected the medicine, breathing a little shallow but she was proud of herself for remaining calm and collected, even with Ethan there.

“Wow. Actually did it. Impressive, rookie.” Ethan teased, his arms crossed and his face smug. Y/N didn’t like that. “I was sure you’d tap out in the last second. I’m actually surprised you weren’t late giving yourself the medicine like you were on your first day!”

But she wasn’t in the mood for jokes and he missed that.

“Un-fucking-believable! Now?! You want to keep taunting me now? I have no words!” She screamed at him, her hands up in the air in frustration as her nostrils flare and her eyes widen with a new thought. “Oh! Wait! I’m thinking of some! Jerk! Ass! Arrogant! Man-child!” Her throat felt raw and her face hot, but she was ready to fight even if her legs did shake in his presence…or was it her rage? Maybe the infection? She couldn’t tell anymore, especially when he raised his index finger and his face was overtaken with a wide smile and a chuckle followed soon.

“Hold up! Man-child?”

“YES! A fucking man-child!” She repeated herself and that’s when his smile faded and he remembered he’s supposed to be her mentor and this is supposed to be his hospital. Soulmate or not, he couldn’t tolerate this behavior.

“I’d caution you to watch what you say to your boss. You better shut your mouth if the next words coming from you don’t include an apology.” Ethan warned, his hands folded before him and he was no longer Grant as she saw him as most of the time. This was doctor Ethan Dolan, the man she was sure would make her life miserable and while she wanted to keep yelling at him, she couldn’t.

It wasn’t because she had a moment of clarity or because she thought kissing his ass would get her somewhere, figuratively not literally as she had already done that and she knew he had a pineapple on it. No, she felt something different, something she read about but never saw let alone felt. Her throat started closing up and her lungs burned for oxygen she couldn’t provide no matter how hard she tried.

Holding her throat, her eyes wide and bulging, Y/N fell to her knees, unable to hear Ethan who screamed for the nurses from the ringing in her ears that made her deaf to the world. Her face swelled up, her eyes closing and she could no longer see or hear, only feel and she felt herself slipping, falling to the ground, desperately heaving for some air.

Ethan couldn’t wait, couldn’t follow protocol and get himself in a hazmat suit before panic opening the room with his key-card, grabbing the emergency kit as he entered, collapsing on his knees beside her, an adrenaline shot in hand. Administering the adrenaline, bronchodilators, corticosteroids, antihistamines and an oxygen mask, Ethan finally felt like there might be hope as the swelling started to go down and he could hear her breathe again. He had her back on the bed, second line of medication set to drip in her IV.

Shaking uncontrollably, he had stared at every movement her chest made and listened intently to every intake of breath she had made, terrified his worst fear might still come true and he might lose her, rendering him alone for the rest of his life. Sure, Grayson would be insulted with these thoughts of his, but having a soulmate as you age is what life is supposed to be about, not a twin who’d make remarks about every line he gets on his face or how saggy his balls must be getting. She was what his whole life has come down to and hundred more years couldn’t counter the happiness he got to experience in a single night with her. That would never change.

Hours passed and he finally relaxed, not enough to sleep but enough to sit down and breathe.

Exhaling loudly, Ethan looked around for a chair or something to brave the night in, aware he’s now stuck in the room with her for as long as it takes for the tests of her swabs return which would likely take a few more hours at this point. He didn’t regret his actions and he understood why she defended her own so fiercely earlier. It was funny how he understood her soon after every fight they have and they had quite a few squabbles in this double shift – the first of many. She has a breathtaking, wildfire heart and he absolutely loved her for it. He had infinite tenderness for her. He always will. As long as he lives.

“If you get the plague and die, I will kill you.” Grayson threatened from the other side of the glass, his own fear of losing Ethan showing in his deep brown orbs, even more so in the frown he couldn’t hide. And Grayson Dolan was many things, but not a man who frowns easily.

“You can’t make me feel guilty over something I don’t regret.” Ethan shrugged, pressing his lips together before closing the distance between them. The glass stood as a barrier, one that would keep Grayson safe in case Ethan does catch a deadly illness but he had faith it would turn out to be nothing.

“I know. I’d have done the same.” Grayson shrugs sadly, a small smile gracing his lips as he looks over Ethan’s shoulder to see Y/N. “How is she?” He too cared for the girl, too quickly but he did. He saw her as a sister, someone to protect. He saw her as an extension of his brother’s soul.

“Good for now. The allergic reaction stopped but we have her on some meds to make sure it doesn’t enter into the late stage. As for her strep infection, I’ve got her on other meds that won’t kill her so that should be fine too. I expect her to be fully capable of chewing me out in the morning.” Ethan chuckled lowly, turning around to make sure she’s still asleep and while he had no intention on telling her about them just yet, he couldn’t stay away from her. Not ever.

“Why? Did you tell her you’re her soulmate?” Grayson clasped his hands in excitement and he reminded Ethan more of a high school cheerleader than doctor with more than a hundred years of experience under his belt. He loved how positive Grayson is, but he needed to keep his voice down when he’s spilling state secrets, especially when the subject at hand is only a few meters away.

“SHHH!” Ethan whisper-shouted, wishing he was on the other side of the glass to smack his brother over the head and teach him a lesson.

“She doesn’t know and I don’t plan on telling her. She’ll figure it out herself and until then, I want her to know me without the pressure of having a soulmate bond. Bro, I just want her to see we’re made for one another and not run from me every chance she gets.” Ethan rubbed his forehead in frustration, glancing over his shoulder at her stirring figure, unaware she managed to catch a few words the two have spoken about her and while she may be under the influence of more than one drug at the moment, she knew it was important to remember that Ethan and Grayson have both muttered the words she feared most of all – soulmate.

However, moments later for her, minutes for Ethan, she felt a knuckle against her cheek, gently dragging along her skin before the warmth of touch disappeared and she decided she wanted it to last longer, her hand moving on instinct, grasping Ethan’s.

Smiling in the darkness, Ethan settled beside her in a chair, his hand holding hers for dear life.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Tags: @beinscorpio @peacedolantwins @heyits-claire @dolandolll @godlydolans @dolanstwintuesday @ethanhes @iwastornsincethestart @graydolan12 @fxkthatdairy @zeusgrayson @libradolan @justordinaryjen @pineappledolan @graysavant @voguekristens @imayoutubere @livexdolan

(some of you couldn’t be tagged for some reason, probably Tumblr’s fault)

#dolan twins #ethan dolan #ethan dolan x reader #ethan dolan doctor soulmate au #ethan dolan fluff #ethan dolan angst #ethan dolan fanfiction #ethan dolan fic #ethan dolan fanfic #grayson dolan

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saundraswriting · 5 years

Text

Need Some TLC Chapter 1: Home

SUMMARY: Reader is a Registered Nurse in a city hospital. She works usually 3-11pm but sometimes works 11pm-7am. Lately though without the necessary staff, she is asked if she could pick up any overtime hours as a nurse or a nursing assistant/patient care tech. Never one to abandon her patients she complies working more and more and more. Without much family or friends to keep her and her workaholic tendencies in check, her neighbors step in. Sargent James Buchanan "Bucky" Barnes-AKA the Winter Solider and his best friend Captain Steve Grant Rogers-AKA Captain America begin passively helping, leaving food on her doorstep, making sure she can walk from the elevator to her place in one piece, keeping tabs on her whereabouts and even using their heighten senses to ensure her personal safety behind the walls. When a fire drill doesn't wake you Bucky Barnes takes matters into his own hands, with Steve and The Avengers' help of course.

WARNINGS: NONE for this chapter

PAIRINGS: Bucky Barnes x Reader Steve Rogers x Tony Stark

SERIES MASTERLIST // NEXT

CHAPTER 1 (Also on AO3 Here)

The elevator was quiet, blissfully quiet. Completely devoid of the talking, typing, clicking, clacking, cart-rolling, pill-passing noise of the general medicine floor of the hospital you worked at. The bright fluorescent lights were the only thing keeping you awake. If your state of being was to be considered awake, you leaned heavily on the back wall of the elevator using it to keep upright. Swaying, your blinks were long and frequent, pushing off the fatigue until the last possible minute. You were almost home, after your fourth 16-hour shift in a row, you had your fist day off in ten or twelve days. The money from working so much overtime was nice but it left you tired down to your mitochondria.

Finally, the elevator dinged, and the doors opened. You stumbled out and onto your floor paying no attention to anything other than the floor in front of your feet, keeping ahold of all your belonging and finding your key. Your shuffling gait was in a direct collision course with one of the occupants from the other room on the floor. You shuffled on, not aware of him at all.

“Jeez, Y/N, are you okay?” Sargent James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes asked as he side-stepped your swaying shuffle.

“I’m fine. Jus’ tire’ is all.” You slurred. You came to a rough halt, not wanting to lose a moment with you floormate. You didn’t dare turn around knowing that you would see stars.

“Did you work all night again? Do you need some help getting to your room?” Bucky looked at you back, noticed your light trembling and swaying. “Never mind, I am helping you to your room. Give me your keys please, Y/N.”

“No. I can’t let my patients suffer.” You fisted the keys to your apartment, which was across from the one Bucky shared with the one and only Steve Grant Rogers-or as most knew him, Captain America-and lurched away from him. You tried to put more effort into speaking so the slurring wouldn’t be too heavy, a day nurse had told you that you were practically unintelligible. Your suddenly clear speech did not distract him from the fact it took you three tries to fit you key in the lock.

“What am I going to do with you?” Bucky sighed. You figured it was rhetorical and even if not, it was getting harder to stay awake. Bucky nudged you out of the way, unlocking your door for you and guided you in. You inelegantly threw your stuff on the counter, heaving a deep sigh.

“SArgent Barnes, thank you for helping me get home. I should be fine from now. I am going to sleep a bit and get a shower. I am off today. I hope.” You faced James totally, wanting to convey your thanks properly. “I don’t mean to be such a burden to you. Let me know how I can repay you.” You flashed him a bright grin.

Bucky felt his breath catch. Even run down as you were, even dressed in wrinkly and smelly and sweaty and stained scrubs, your hair a greasy pile on your head and speech almost undecipherable. You were beautiful.

“Repay me? Y/N, there is no need. You are my friend. You are Steve’s friend. I am doing what anyone should do, being a nurse is hard and demanding on a full-time schedule, let alone the insane one you have.” Bucky said. You just shook your head and smiled.

“Fine, you win, mister. Now, if you don’t mind, I need a shower and to clean up my apartment and a nap. So, go do your ‘Avengers’ thing.” You made a shooing motion with your hands. Bucky held his up and walked backwards out the door laughing lightly.

“You shouldn’t lie to your elders. That isn’t polite. If you need me just knock. We just got back from a mission. Steve is still at the compound, but I came straight here” Bucky said. “Do you want anything to eat? I can whip up some eggs for you. You are looking a little thin.”

“I’m not ‘ungry. Have a few chores. Then sleep. Later?” You were slurring again. Bucky took your answer as a question. From sharing your floor, the last few months, he knew you were prone to skipping meals too often.

He and Steve used their heightened senses to keep track of you. Left to your own devices you slacked in the self-care department. He had learned that you worked 3pm-11pm most days but some days it was 7pm-7 am or even 3pm-7am, and the latter seemed to be happening more and more frequently. He knew you didn’t have much family or friends to alleviate the workaholic tendencies you displayed.

“Okay, Y/N. Why don’t you come over for dinner? We can watch Blue Planet. If you need us, we are across the hall.” Bucky offered.

“Thank you again, Sargant Barnes. Without your help I would still be sitting in the hall asleep.” You focused on his face once more. He peered closely at you and seeming to believe that you weren’t in danger of passing out, He ruffled your messy hair and left. He closed and locked the door behind himself.

The second the door shut it felt as if he took all the liveliness with him. You sagged where you stood, exhaustion catching up with you. You looked around and sighed, your place looked like a goblin had been living here for a month. The last two and half weeks especially had been rough on your floor at the hospital, being a general medicine floor, you took anyone eighteen years or older for anything at all. You could have a 20-year-old with the flu or an 89-year-old with a fresh hip replacement. You had the beds for any patient the hospital had to admit that didn’t need a specialty room (unless overflow happened). The floor had 60 beds for usually 6 nurses and 8 nurse aides, however, there was a low supply and high demand for healthcare workers. Recently, you have been the nurse for 30 patients and having to help the aides since there are only four or five of them a night. And even shorter staff on the overnight shift, leading to you picking up or needing to stay over because no one was there to relieve you. You also picked up shifts as a nursing assistant or patient care tech, believe that no nurse is above their aides and you understand you patients better.

“Okay, let’s get changed and then shower. We can clean up after that.” You nodded firmly, pulling from the almost empty energy stores to get moving.

You pulled off your filthy scrubs, not even beginning to identify the mysterious stains and added them to the dirty laundry. After a quick shower you pulled on sweatpants and a shirt, feeling like a functioning member of society and not a dirty trash goblin. You gathered all your dirty clothes and began on of the many loads of laundry, while that went you did dishes and cleaned out the fridge, took out the trash, changed sheets, swapped the throw blankets on the chair and couch. You even wrote a grocery list for the next week or two. After doing a second load of laundry you called it quits. It was 9:30 in the morning and you needed some sleep before tackling the rest of your chores.

“Two melatonin and two-night ibuprofen should do the trick. I can sleep. I can sleep and not have to get up for work until tomorrow.” You said to yourself. You took the medication and curled up on the couch with David Attenborough lulling you to sleep.

“Some arteries of the blue whale of big enough for adult humans to swim through.” Was the last thing you heard.

Masterlist // Next

*******************************************************************************************

Welcome to my first published Bucky Barnes X Reader fic. I am very attached to this. I wrote a lot of myself into this story. I am a Certified Nursing Assistant near Pittsburgh, PA. So I have some experience but I work with the elderly in a nursing home. Please leave a comment or kudos, I am not sure how well received this will be, and I don't really know what I am doing.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x medical! reader #bucky barnes x nurse! reader #protective bucky barnes #bucky barnes fluff #steve rogers #winter solider #avengers family #domestic avengers #steve rogers x tony stark #bucky barnes fanfiction #saundrasays #saundrasrambles #saundraswriting #god this formatting #it is rough #apologies #I was impulsive

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webcricket · 6 years

Text

Castiel Imagine

Imagine: A grace-less Castiel doing his darnedest to take care of you when you're sick.

[A/N: Based on an ask from @81mysteriouslyme - “Just thinking: how would human!cas take care of a sick reader? Like sick sick. I reckon he’ll be insanely sweet and adorable but also a complete dork. Out of desperation he would also call Sam and Dean for help as he realizes he really has no idea what he is doing.”]

The plague - he read in an alarming article hyped in the headlines just last week in the Lebanon Daily Star that the black death pandemic that wiped out half of Europe in the 14th century is experiencing a renaissance resurgence in house pets populating the southwest. Mad-cow disease. You do enjoy a cheeseburger almost as much as Dean with the added benefit of table manners. Ebola. The trip to the zoo several weeks ago where Castiel insisted on spending hours in the primate exhibit observing the monkeys fills his heart with foreboding.

The list of fatal ailments he discovered in a Websummon search after plugging in your symptoms stretches endless in seriousness and judging by the patients populating the Doctor Sexy reruns Dean plays between cases in his man cave, it seems like humans stricken suddenly by dire disease is a daily occurrence to be expected.

Cas is convinced you need a team of specialists caring for you in a fully-equipped quarantine ward rather than a grace-less angel who burned the toast he tried to make you to calm your upset stomach … twice. You settled for crackers straight from the cupboard after he carried the smoking toaster into the bedroom, fingers singed black, eyes apologetically glassed, and hair frizzed on end after attempting to extricate an annihilated slice of bread from its fiery confines with a fork while the appliance was still plugged in. At least the flickering lights had nothing to do with a supernatural foe.

Disregarding the fragility of his own immune system at present, the one-time soldier of the Lord perches on the mattress beside you; irises glaze in concern as he gazes at your shivering sweat-drenched figure thrashing fitfully beneath the thin white bed sheet. The aforementioned list nagging his thoughts, he brushes the saturated tendrils of hair aside from your temples to check for small pox lesions. Relieved to see none, he lays a tender touch upon your forehead.

Wakened from tenuous sleep when his palm presses to your dampened brow to test the temperature, your whine of protest rapidly devolves into a congested cough. Given his lack of angelic aptitude, he can only guess at the sweltering height of the number.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes, the soft smile he usually reserves for you inverts into an anxious frown when the fatigued hollows of your watery eyes resolve on him. “You were having another bad dream.”

A fever dream to be exact. “S’okay.” You manage a strained sigh, throwing off the well-meant layers of extra warmth he piled on your extremities while you slept. Despite his inept nursing skills, there’s something reassuring about having him here as you drift in and out of consciousness. Muscles stiff and aching, you regret the loss of insulation, seized by a renewed wave of chills.

He frets over the hem of the wool blanket, fumbling his fingers along the scratchy fabric and tucking it again beneath your thighs. He doesn’t like seeing you wracked by shivers, at least not sickly ones. “Are you hungry?” he asks, feeling a burden of utter uselessness to ease your suffering in his human state. While you slept he looked up a video demonstrating how to make toast in a frying pan; going so far as to bookmark it for reference, he’s optimistic of his ability to mimic the task. If that doesn’t work, he has one requiring an iron to use as backup. And there’s always the can of chicken soup he discovered in the pantry if he wants to do battle with the microwave.

The thought of swallowing anything of substance sets your stomach churning precipitously upward. Rocking to your side, you assume the fetal position to suppress the rising pressure and prepare for the worst.

If Cas had any sense about what was coming or fondness for his sneakers, he’d do the same. “Sorry,” he repeats the sentiment because he truly is, “I-” He’s not certain what he wants to say. The fact is, without his divine gifts, he’s out of his element. Deciding on a silent show of support in lieu of syllables, he lays a hand soothingly to your side, smoothing across the shuddering landscape until the nausea naturally subsides.

The distraction helps. Cas sticking it out when you must look and smell God-awful means the world to you because it’s evidence of his love. It’s one thing to say those three little words, another to dance them in a tangle of passion, but being there when you’re at your worst, that’s the real definition of devotion.

For Cas, it’s not enough. He wants to do better; to be better - for you, so you get better. Losing you, it would be his biggest failure and one he isn’t sure he could survive.

Digging into his hoodie pocket, he retrieves his cell, closes the open web page of the sickness symptom checker, flicks through his short contacts list, and calls Sam on speakerphone.

“Hey, Cas. What’s up?” Sam answers.

“Y/N’s fever,” Cas murmurs, pausing his caress at the peak of your shoulder to squeeze, encouraging you to lie on your back. “I suspect malaria.”

“It’s not malaria,” Sam snorts, intuiting the former angel consulted the internet for a diagnosis.

Sam’s probably correct. You haven’t traveled to a tropical or subtropical region ever so the odds of exposure hover in the region of extremely unlikely; unlikely, although not impossible. “Websummon suggested-”

“It’s not malaria,” Sam insists, unleashing an airy snicker.

“Gimme the ph-” The phone emits a static buzz as Dean steals it from his brother to slam it to his ear. “Look buddy, the last time we were in tropical paradise sippin’ cocktails was never.” The elder Winchester’s voice bellows confirming Cas’ own inner argument against the diagnosis. “Sam’s right. It’s just the flu or something simple. Y/N’ll be fine in a few days.”

It occurs to Cas if you do survive it’s high time for a vacation. First he needs to get you through it. Perhaps a call to Rowena would have been more helpful, but then there might be the nastiness of personal favors owed and he’s not certain, lacking celestial clout, what he’d have to trade for your life or if influenza is reason enough to involve a witch. All the anxiety emerges as a rasped, “But-”

“But nothing. There’s Tylenol in the first aid kit, two every 4-6 hours until the fever breaks,” the hunter advises. “And, Cas?”

“Yes?”

“Angel mojo or no, you got this.” The call disconnects.

“He’s right, you know,” you mumble weakly, garnering his attention; gravel inflammation grates your tonsils as you speak. Clammy cool fingers wrap his wrist until the phone falls forgotten from their flexing tips with a bounce on the bed.

“About the flu?” Cas’ brow crinkles in confusion. When you attempt to sit up, he props a pillow behind your back and ensures you stay covered and warm.

You shake your head, coughing into the crook of your arm. “No, about you,” you croak. “You being here, I already feel better.”

A smile curves at the corner of his mouth, flattening the fretful lines of his features; his eyes gleam so brightly blue you can’t tell if it’s the fever muddling your senses, or a tiny speck of grace still simmering somewhere within the seraph.

Castiel tag list: (Closed, if you’d like to be removed please let me know!) @jeepangel @sammiesamness @willowing-love @roxy-davenport @blueicevalkyrie @im-the-nerdiest-of-them-a11 @thesugargalaxy @bluetina-blog @dont-trust-humanity @afanofmanystuffs @honeybeetrash @bucky-thorin-winchester @superwholockz @tistai @wordstothewisereaders @gill-ons @mrswhozeewhatsis @marisayouass @stone-met @castiel-savvy18 @samualmortgrim @trexrambling @magnificent-mantle @kdfrqqg @xdifsx @moon-and-stars-cas @rockfairy @peaceloveancolor @unicorntrooper @anisolatedship @itsilvermorny @aditimukul @kudosia @goofynerd-67babylove @uninspirationalsonglyrics @mishascupcake @mishapanicmeow @praisecastielamen @roseyhxnt @jessikared97 @let-the-imaginationflow @warriorqueen1991 @jenabean75 @alisonkenway @anotherwaywardsister @luciathewinchestergirl @morganas-pendragons @heyitscam99 @fangirl-and-stuff @selahbela @realgreglestrade @splendidcas @pointlesscasey @lovelyangelofasgard @i-larb-spooderman @thewhiterabbit42 @thelostverse @castieliswatchingoverme @beccollie18 @dragonett8 @dixie-chick @jtownraindancer @carowinsthings @pixiedusts @laqueus-ludovicus @passionghost @sherlockedtash88 @futureparent @gabbie7-11 @myfandomlife-blog @dreamerkim @missjenniferb @lexininja @samael-has-arrived @shamelesslydean @earthtokace @spookysculderfiles @neaeri @justanormalangel @lone-loba @supernaturalymarvel @lilrubixx @wings-and-halo @thehoneybeecastielfollows @musiclovinchic93 @81mysteriouslyme @jessiekay2010 @the-bottom-of-the-abyss

#castiel x reader #castiel x you #castiel fluff #castiel reader insert #castiel imagine #castiel drabble #castielxyou #castielxreader #you x castiel #reader x castiel #cas x you #cas x reader #spn imagine #spn x reader #castiel fanfic #my edit #cricket writes cas

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maxtrickey · 5 years

Text

[[MORE]]

[ I constantly feel shit, ulcerative colitis makes me feel lazy when I'm chronically fatigued and it sucks that with all the effort I made with uni it's probably not going to end well with how much I've missed recently due to this flu and it affecting my stomach, state of the world doesn't inspire much hope either.

Medicine is going to be scarce if things go to shit but that doesn't effect everyone so no one really cares,

Ironically I've been making way less of the art I want to make at uni but that's down to objective assignment briefs, still doesn't feel great though and it doesn't help inspire me in terms I've what I've missed because it's a portfolio submission for a fuckin mobile game, but I make the best of it with trying to twist the themeing as much as I can to make it something i want (usually by making it spooky or fantasyesque)

Having a disability that people have legitimately told me "it could be worse" about, makes me feel insane.

I dont really talk about it but I'm still feeling what happened almost 3 years ago now and how little I must have meant, how forgettable and easy to erase I am. I'm nothing like i was i constantly have to distract myself or just dread seeps in. Aside from laughing I dont smile often anymore theres a really noticeable cutoff in pictures and I hadn't noticed which was funny so you can really pin point the trajectory of trauma

I also didnt realise I'd taken to leaving clothes and shit on one half of the bed that I was telling myself was laziness/ease of access when I wake up but I've taken to thinking it's the sleeping alone (i dont hate that, I enjoy being entirely alone sometimes, just not perpetually) sometimes I'll wake up with some change beside me on the bed and I laugh to myself that I've become a dragon just isolating myself with treasure

Fewer and fewer people deny that I'm like cosmically cursed now aswell going like:

emetophibia -> anxiety disorder from a young age -> saw my nans torturously slow death resultantly of multiple tumours when I probably should have not been in that hospital environment -> bullied relentlessly when I suddenly and mysteriously gained a fuckton of weight (linked to the undetectable spontaneous mutation thought to have occured that inexplicably gave me ulcerative colitis which wasnt documented in my family -> my my becomes an alcoholic just as I start secondary school according to her because of the crippling guilt she had from "killing her mother" which was her in reality making the decision to have her hospitalised and have a chance of beating the cancer rather than being in more pain -> I almost die when rushed to hospital for an undetectable unknown reason and am told I would have died if I was 10 minutes later to A&E (this is after the paramedic didnt want to take me because "he looks fine") => immediately have to sit my GCSES arguably the most import exams of my educational career after just leaving the hospital -> during all of this endure the emotional and psychological torture enduring and surviving an alcoholic parent who steals from you, lies and when numerous times you try to stage this little intervention on your own because you're so sure that it's up to you to save her because everyone else has given up only to be met with propositions of mutual suicide, just all really added up to make me feel worthless

Then it got better I found someone it was all great for a while, then my mum was found dead by police apparent liver failure as she was trying to actually stop drinking which is ironically what killed her, and 3 days later my girlfriend of 4 and a half years dumps me when shes over consoling me about it, it's honestly a farcical existence and probably very funny from an outside perspective, I've definitely laughed at the comic timing of every single thing that's happened in my life as it just (like me aswell I guess ahaha) mutates and amalgamates getting worse and worse with the passage of time

I haven't vented in a while and I just feel, not empty just like, spent? I'm optimistic, if also cynical and it's like something out of the blue kicks my allegorical ladder away from under me, and that ladder was teetering on top of previously scaled ladders

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deeeepsteep · 6 years

Text

Tbh when I think about lycanthropy and werewolves, I think about it like the stages to a disease

Read More because I put way too much thought into this

I know most folklore says that lycanthropy is more of a curse, but idk I always liked the idea of it being a disease, something contagious and mutated that latches onto your body and becomes a part of you whether you like it or not

Though...I think it originated hundreds, maybe thousands of years ago as a curse - maybe someone did something terribly wrong and was turned into a wolf as punishment, and that person found out that it could ‘infect’ others by biting or scratching them. Maybe this person was a complete dick who lacked self-awareness and didn’t learn from their mistakes, so they decided to fuck things up even more by intentionally infecting other people, which helped spread the disease. So maybe it is a curse???? Maybe it’s some weird mix of the two???? Idk lmao

My version of lycanthropy comes in three stages:

Man-Wolf/Untrue Werewolves

Common Werewolves/Halflings

True Werewolves

All three stages can be seen as variations or different “versions/mutations” of the same virus. Sort of like how a cold has different symptoms, if that makes any sense???

Now, humans aren’t as smart as actual wolves, and humans love to make things harder for themselves so the difference in stages have given some of them an entitlement of some sorts, which gives way to a sort of...werewolf racism????? There’s no existing word for it so I’m just gonna go with that lmao - humans love to discriminate against each other and this “werewolf tier” gives them another reason to treat each other like shit, because humans are terrible like that. They see the different stages as a hierarchy of some sort, with Untrue Werewolves on the bottom, Common Werewolves in the middle, and True Werewolves on top. More on that in a bit.

They all have a bunch of common traits, but they stand out on their own. Their common traits are things found in many werewolf-related folklore:

Speed-healing - I read that this has been a trait in werewolf lore for hundreds of years so it seemed imperative that this interpretation had it too. Bruises and cuts go away in seconds, even if there’s internal bleeding or if it’s a really deep cut. Bones that normally take weeks to heal will mend themselves in mere minutes, which can be a good and bad thing. You’ll have to set the bone as quickly as possible or else they will mend the wrong way, which means you’ll have to re-break the bone and set it again. It also takes a lot of strength and power to break werewolf bones; humans can’t do it on their own, so if you can cause a fracture that must mean you’re either very strong or you know very powerful magic!

High Body Temperature - A healthy werewolf will run about 110 degrees Farenheit in both their human and transformed forms. For humans, that’s an extremely high fever that can cause permanent brain damage and even death. Werewolves have a significantly higher body temperature due to two things: Their speed-healing, and their human immune system working harder to fend off the werewolf virus. They make great space heaters, so if you’re cold and your heater’s broken, cuddle a werewolf!

Heightened Senses/Abilities - Common and True Werewolves retain their heightened abilities in their human forms, while Untrue Werewolves only have them when they’ve transformed. A werewolf’s nose can smell things up to 5 miles away - that’s almost twice as strong as a regular wolf! They can see very well in the dark; since Common and True Werewolves retain their night vision in their human form, they have reflectors in their eyes (Also an easy way to spot a Common or True Werewolf). Their hearing is ultra-sensitive, and they also possess superhuman strength and agility; True Werewolves can cover dozens of miles within minutes.

Transformation Under A Full Moon - This is a given. Whenever there’s a full moon, you transform, no matter what stage of lycanthropy you’re in. At night, once you see the full moon, your transformation begins. Full moons generally last between 3 to 4 days, but werewolves only stay in their transformed state at night. Once dawn hits, they’re human again - but when night falls and the moon is visible again, back into werewolf form they go! However, during the day of a full moon, they are noticeably more irritable (Scroll down a bit more to read up on Moon Sickness).

Weakness Against Silver - I know this is more of a pop culture thing, but I noticed in folklore werewolves don’t really have any traditional weaknesses, thus making them technically invincible - and I find that really boring tbh. Everyone has a weakness. When werewolves are attacked with a silver weapon, their wounds take longer to heal. If you’re a werewolf and your attacker breaks your arm with a silver hammer, guess what? Your bones will take weeks, not seconds to heal!!!! If a silver weapon breaks through skin and causes an open wound, it will leave a scar once it heals. Werewolves with plenty of scars are often revered in the werewolf community; you’re the toughest of the tough if you’re adorned with them! As of right now, silver is the only known way to kill a werewolf.

Post-Transformation Amnesia - Present in Untrue and Common Werewolves. Most werewolves have little to no recollection of what they were doing during a full moon, or when they’re in a transformed state. This is due to their human selves essentially dissolving when they transform.

Moon Sickness/Phasing Sickness - Moon Sickness happens with every kind of werewolf. Their bodies can sense an impending full moon, which triggers the human immune system to work harder than usual to resist the werewolf virus. It’s common for werewolves to experience chronic fatigue, insomnia, irritable mood (More irritable than usual), and even flu-like symptoms in the days preceding a full moon and during the days of a full moon. True Werewolves not only experience Moon Sickness, but also Phasing Sickness; they experience Moon Sickness symptoms when they haven’t phased in awhile. Unlike their Untrue and Common counterparts, they experience these symptoms because their wolf half is getting restless from being dormant for too long, rather than their human bodies fighting against the werewolf virus.

Insatiable Appetites - Werewolves LOVE to eat. They have insanely high metabolisms, so they need to eat large portions of food to keep up their strength - however, that doesn’t mean there aren’t out of shape werewolves! Soft round werebois exist out there. They just eat way more than other werewolves do, which is probably tonnes.

Sensory Overload - Having heightened senses is great and all, but it’s overwhelming for many Common Werewolves, especially for those who’ve been bitten recently. Their human bodies simply cannot handle the wolf’s sensitive nose, ears, and eyes. It gets so overwhelming that some werewolves look for ways to “dull” these senses so they’re easier to bear. Unfortunately, this means that a lot of Common Werewolves succumb to substance addiction. Drug and alcohol abuse is a sad common reality for many Common Werewolves. Smoking cigarettes is a common vice for the werewolf community, as it’s seen as the “least harmful” addiction; their speed healing is capable of eating up any harmful chemicals before they’re able to infect their cells, thus preventing them from multiplying and spreading, and it doesn’t affect their stamina. This means they’re immune to cancer and other serious diseases (If a human with cancer is bitten, their cancer will be cured...but it obviously comes with a heavy price).

Longevity: Werewolves aren’t immortal, but they can live for a very long time if they take care of themselves and avoid getting attacked with silver as much as they possibly can. Their lifespan is way longer than a human’s; the oldest recorded werewolf lived for over 800 years.

Loss of Humanity During Transformation: Untrue and Common Werewolves lose their human minds in their transformed state, making them incredibly dangerous. They cannot tell the difference between friend and foe, and they’ll attack anyone who stands too close.

A little more detail on the three stages of lycanthropy:

The “Man-Wolf”, or “Untrue Werewolves”

One becomes an Untrue Werewolf when they are scratched, not bitten, by another Untrue Werewolf, a Common Werewolf, or a True Werewolf.

They look more like the old-school werewolves you see in movies like the Wolf Man, Teen Wolf, I Was A Teenage Werewolf, and the American Werewolf series. They’re more human-shaped, peppered with wolf-life traits: They have a lot more hair than the average human, their nails are longer and more claw-like, their eyes retain their human shape but they may change colour (Not all wolves have yellow or orange eyes, they can be brown too). They possess the classic werewolf traits - superhuman strength, heightened senses, speed healing - but only when it’s a full moon and they have transformed (So if you get a boo-boo in human form, it’ll heal like a regular wound; you’ll have to wait for the full moon in order for the healing process to speed up). Otherwise, they’re your average-looking person, and if you didn’t know they were infected you probably would never be able to guess.

Untrue Werewolves are only able to transform when there’s a full moon; their mood or other environmental factors do not influence a transformation. The transformation process is gradual but relatively painless, as the only things that really change are the amount of hair, the length of the nails, the formation of the teeth, and, depending on the individual, the colour of the eyes.

There are known small pockets of Untrue Werewolf “packs”, but for the most part Untrue Werewolves prefer working alone. That being said, the few packs that do exist band together because they have an unwavering hatred for Common and True Werewolves. They’re often seen as the very bottom of the “werewolf hierarchy”, and many werewolves do not consider them part of their community, hence the Untrue Werewolf title. Since they’re the least “wolfy-looking” and only possess wolf-like traits when the full moon is out, they’re often looked down upon, or not taken seriously. Desperate to prove themselves, and to show others that they count as werewolves, some have gone as far as deliberately scratching and/or biting humans for the sole purpose of adding more to their ranks. Unlike Common and True Werewolves, Untrue Werewolves do not have enough of the “werewolf virus” in their system to transform a human into a Common Werewolf via biting them, so their bites will merely turn them into another Untrue Werewolf.

However, it is possible to “advance” to a Common Werewolf if an Untrue Werewolf is bitten by a Common Werewolf or a True Werewolf, but unsurprisingly, most Untrue Werewolves go out of their way to ensure that doesn’t happen. There are some who willingly seek out a Common Werewolf or True Werewolf so they can get deliberately bitten, but these are few and far in between. For the most part, Untrue Werewolves are stubborn and proud beings who just want to be respected for who they are. They just want to be loved!!!!!!!

The Common Werewolf, or Halfing

These funky dudes are the most common kind of werewolf, hence the name. In order to become one, you must be bitten, not scratched, by another True Werewolf.

They look more like your “classic werewolf” aka a wolf that stands on two legs, with hands instead of paws. They’re huge, with the smallest recorded werewolf measuring a little over 7 feet. Their forearms are stronger than their back legs and it shows in their posture; they’re often hunched over, with their thick arms hanging by their sides in an ape-like stance. Fur colour varies, just like any wolf coat does. Same with the eyes. The noises they emit are similar to Untrue Werewolves, but are significantly more animalistic. They retain their heightened abilities, including speed healing and night vision, in their human form.

Common Werewolves are notorious for being incredibly violent and hot-tempered in both their wolf and human forms. The smallest inconvenience can set them off, to the point where it can force them to transform unexpectedly, and a Common Werewolf doesn’t discriminate when it comes to their rage, meaning they’ll attack anyone who is in close range - including loved ones. The transformation process is extremely painful for Common Werewolves because their bones and internal organs shift around as they mutate from human to werewolf. Shifting back to human form is just as painful.

Many Common Werewolves detest their wolfy state and dread or even fear transforming. This resistance only makes the virus within them more volatile, rendering them vulnerable to more unexpected transformations and violent outbursts.

Although they are considered the middle tier of the werewolf hierarchy, both Untrue and True Werewolves look down upon Common Werewolves for their brutish behaviour. They’re often seen as the “dumbest” and most “goon-like” of the community, but they are still regarded as “more werewolf” than Untrue Werewolves. However, these stereotypes are mostly untrue, as Common Werewolves are fully capable of planning and executing elaborate hunting and battle strategies, and there are some who are capable of controlling their anger. Unlike their Untrue counterparts, they prefer living, hunting, and attacking in packs.

Halfling is a common colloquial term for them, but most aren’t fond of the name, as they feel it makes them sound like an incomplete being. If you want to piss off a Common Werewolf, call them a Halfling - but most would strongly advise against it!

True Werewolves

The highest tier in the werewolf hierarchy, and also the most rare; there are less than 3% of recorded True Werewolves, though it is very likely there are many more. One cannot become a True Werewolf by a scratch or a bite; it takes weeks, sometimes months or years of physical and mental preparation.

It’s unknown how the first True Werewolf came about, but the most commonly accepted tale is at least 1000 years old and speaks of a Common Werewolf who was left for dead in the deep woods after being attacked by a coven with silver daggers. As she lay in a pool of her own blood, she began to hear voices that whispered things to her such as accepting change and reaching her full potential. Interpreting these messages as a sign of making peace with the end of her life and accepting her fate, she closes her eyes, ready to pass onto the next life - only to wake up moments later, fully healed, and in the form of a wolf.

Picture the werewolves/shapeshifters from Twilight, except not as gigantic. True Werewolves, when in wolf form, look exactly like a real wolf, with the exception of enhanced senses, strength, speed, and speed healing. They are able to shift back and forth between their human and wolf forms at will, and the transformation process is seamless and painless. Transforming only takes mere seconds - they actually prefer the term phasing as opposed to transformation or mutation. It has been described as morphing or “melting”; however, when angered, scared, or under a full moon, the transformation is more volatile (But still painless), often described as “exploding” into their wolf forms. Like their Common counterparts, they retain their enhanced abilities in their human form, but unlike their Common and Untrue counterparts, they retain their sentient minds when transformed/phased (Except during a Blood Moon - more on that later). They’re able to discriminate between friend and foe in their wolfy state, and True Werewolves usually prefer keeping to themselves, so they’re the least harmless out of the three werewolf types. They are way more docile than their Untrue and Common counterparts, however some may still be prone to angry outbursts if provoked enough.

So how does one become a True Werewolf? It’s hard to explain. The very few True Werewolves that are known to exist have difficulty describing the process. Many of them have “accidentally” turned into True Werewolves; one True Werewolf described his experience as waking up one day and being overcome with a feeling of “wholeness, completeness, like I’ve finally found this missing part of me that I didn’t know I was searching for”.

Achieving True Werewolf status is a matter of quelling the perpetual conflict between a werewolf’s human half and their wolf half. Common Werewolves are constantly at war with their animalistic instincts and impulses, which causes them to act out with violence. True Werewolves accept that they are two different beings within the same vessel, and that they are not “more human than wolf” or vice versa; they are equal parts human and wolf. A True Werewolf’s human immune system no longer sees the werewolf genes as a virus that needs to be fought off, so the two halves intertwine and form a completely new genetic makeup, finally collaborating instead of butting heads.

This is a very difficult concept for many Common Werewolves to handle, especially when lycanthropy is highly stigmatized and most of them have been raised to fear or detest lycanthropes. This internalized hatred makes it very difficult for many werewolves to accept lycanthropy as a part of themselves and refuse to believe that this is a lifelong condition. The constant resistance only makes them more volatile, which increases public stigma, so it’s kind of like a self-destructive cycle. True Werewolves find a way to break out of that cycle - in other words, they know what werewolf self-love and self-care is and they’ve embraced it fully!

Like Common Werewolves, True Werewolves have the pack mentality - which is crucial for them, since so few of them exist. In wolf form, they’ll look like an ordinary wolf pack, and they’ll usually behave as such as to not attract werewolf hunters or any other predator (Witches, demons, vampires...literally nobody likes werewolves, it’s pretty sad).

True Werewolves are often revered in the werewolf community, as they are hard to come by, and their self-acceptance is greatly admired. However, there are very, very few True Werewolves (Remember, only less than 3% of them are recorded to have ever exist) who look down on anything that isn’t like them, and refuse to interact with Common and Untrue Werewolves. Fortunately, “bad” True Werewolves are very few and far in between!

Lycanthropy In Society

Like many other interpretations out there, this interpretation of lycanthropy is condemned, exiled, stigmatized...you name it. Most people aren’t fond of werewolves. though their hatred towards them is mostly born out of ignorance and fear than genuine hatred. It’s a given that humans act hostile towards things they don’t fully understand, and so this is how they approach lycanthropes. Many of them have a very limited understanding of what lycanthropy is about and only accept what they’ve heard through word of mouth, aka urban legend and exaggerated recounts of encounters with lycanthropes. For the most part, the world sees werewolves as violent, out of control, savage, disorganized, and primitive. This means there aren’t a lot of opportunities for them - jobs, friends, romantic relationships, etc.

There are groups of werewolf hunters whose sole purpose is to hunt werewolves into extinction. They can be literally anyone - human, goblin, demon, vampire, witch or warlock - and many groups have grown fame and notoriety for killing packs and packs of werewolves simply for being werewolves.

However, there are some people out there who do want to learn more about lycanthropy and have gone so far as lived with werewolf packs to gain a better understanding of them. Pro-lycanthrope scientists have teamed up with lycanthropes (And lycanthropes who are scientists) to try and come up with a cure to lycanthropy, or at least a medicine of some sort that’ll help Common and Untrue Werewolves retain their humanity while in their transformed state. Contrary to popular belief, wolfsbane isn’t an effective ingredient, and there currently isn’t a cure to lycanthropy.

Lycanthropy isn’t inheritable. One can only become infected with the virus if they’re bitten or scratched, so if two werewolves decide to start a family their children will be free of the virus - but, unsurprisingly, many children of werewolf parents want to become a lycanthrope so they can be like them. Many werewolves are against the idea, as they believe their children can have a clean slate and live the life they never had.

Werewolf Alphas?

Many people have a common misconception about wolf packs and pack behaviour. Alphas aren’t necessarily the leader of the pack, and they don’t actually have this reigning authority over the group. Rather, wolf alphas - and there is a female alpha and a male alpha for each pack, not just one lone male alpha - act more as parental figures...most likely because their pack consists of them and their children, rather than a band of random, unrelated wolves.

But humans aren’t that smart. Humans, by nature, desire power and control - and that reflects in werewolf pack behaviour. Werewolves need an alpha. They need someone to listen to, someone to guide them - especially Common Werewolves. In a werewolf pack, there is only one alpha, though gender isn’t a determining factor. A werewolf alpha isn’t necessarily the strongest or most dominant of the pack. An alpha must be street smart, they must know how to properly plan and execute hunting strategies. An alpha is a leader because they know how to lead with respect, and they see their fellow pack members as a cohesive unit rather than a hierarchy. They do not see themselves as above pack law, or “higher” than the other pack members. They see the pack as equal members of a group with their individual sets of strengths and weaknesses, and they have a gift for figuring out how to use everyone’s strengths to the advantage of the group. Earning the position of alpha comes with a lot of respect and trust, though there are very few True Werewolves who abuse this position of power (Like I mentioned earlier, humans aren’t as smart).

There are werewolf betas and gammas who serve as second and third in command to the alpha. Betas and gammas are usually the muscle of the group; they’re the strongest, physically speaking, and when they travel in wolf form they’re are often seen at the head and tail of every pack (Alpha and gamma in front, beta in the back) so that they keep a watchful eye on the other wolves and potential enemies.

What Happens During A Blood Moon?

A blood moon is another term for when the moon is in total eclipse. It takes on a distinguish reddish colour, hence the name.

Blood Moons are one of the worst times in any werewolf’s life. There isn’t a scientific explanation for it yet, but blood moons make werewolves even more agitated, violent, and explosive than usual. Even True Werewolves can’t resist the pull of a blood moon; they will turn violent and lose their human minds. Werewolves stay in their wolf forms even during the day of a blood moon, and they are unable to change back until the moon is back to normal.

So you have a bunch of feral-like Untrue, Common, and True Werewolves running around and destroying everything they see. It’s not fun for anyone.

What About A Wolf Moon? A Super Moon? A Harvest Moon?

The full moon in January is commonly referred to as the Wolf Moon. A Super Moon is - you guessed it - when the moon is gigantic. During these phases, a werewolf’s senses are heightened and they find that their strength is at least doubled. They can run twice as fast and hit twice as hard.

A Harvest Moon is the full moon closest to the autumnal equinox. The same applies to Wolf and Super Moons - they’re stronger, but strangely enough...they’re a lot more hungry. Werewolves have a big appetite to begin with, but during a Harvest Moon they’re hungrier than usual. Werewolves in rural areas have been known to steal entire fields of crops and livestock. In a sense, the Harvest Moon is like a werewolf Thanksgiving!

What about a Super Blood Wolf Moon?

Feral-like werewolves with double the strength and speed running around everywhere that have absolutely no control over themselves? Have fun!

#werewolf #werewolves #lycanthropy #my stuff

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