#also might make them start lasting a week to take some strain off

[dc-worse-dad-poll]

Hi! Sorry to bother you, but shouldn't the rest of round 1 already have been posted?

don't apologise! i need to make an announcement post because...yeah, it should have. i've run into a fuck ton of family drama these past two weeks and have been dealing with that. i guess that's on point for the poll topic at least?

anyway, it's all settling down, but there's something i'm waiting on an update on because it may require me to go out of state for a few days and i know i won't have the mental capacity to make and post the polls from a hospital if that happens

i think it's safe to say bet on monday. which i know i said before but like. blame gramps.

[gabrielsbubblegumbitch]

✨Staticmoth wedding headcanons✨

Because I have a lot of thoughts but can't come up with the plot to turn it into fic

✨ Vox absolutely loses his shit. You would think that Valentino would be a groomzilla material but oh no no, Val just wants sexy dress and enough coke to last three days of partying. Vox needs everything perfect. He has his grand vision and is ready to tear with bare hands everyone who does not deliver. During the preparation time, he murders as many people as Val usually does. Velvette bails on being the wedding planner after just two weeks because it was seriously straining their friendship. But after a month, she's back in the game. Why? Because Vox strangled three other wedding planners in frustration, and things weren't moving forward, so Val was starting to freak out.

✨ The event is held at the Vees' Tower. I reckon they've got a venue suitable for hosting conferences and porn award shows.

✨ It's a grand event. I'm talking Grand™, like the Kim K and Kanye West of Hell kind of grand. But it's also elite, so the guest list isn't that long, around 200 invited people plus 50 ticketed spots for anyone willing to drop 100k hellish bucks to attend. Everything is dripping with gold and diamonds because "quiet luxury" isn't in the Vees' vocabulary. The whole affair reflects Val's aesthetic more, as it's Vox's love letter to him. Vox already had his wedding, and now it's time to fulfill his husband's dreams. So Val makes about 90% of the decisions without shouldering any real responsibilities. Which is fine by everyone because he's annoying as hell when it comes to picking roses, flamingo feathers, and starters. Nobody wants to put him in high-stress situations. Expect lots of red, pink, and gold, with heavy, decadent fabrics and neon lights; it's like an exclusive brothel meets the Las Vegas strip.

✨ When it comes to flowers, they settled on roses because they're Vox's favorites, which naturally made them Val's favorite too, given the sheer number of bouquets he's received. Vox, being the freak he is, counts every single bouquet he's ever given to Val. So, for their wedding, he ensures there are twice as many roses. Yes, he's a pathological overachiever.

✨ As for attractions, there’s a plethora of erotic dancers in cages and mesmerizing drone light shows. Karaoke, slot machines, live cooking stations, and all the drugs you can imagine. And let's not forget a fountain flowing with tequila. It's a true adult wonderland.

✨ Valentino skips the whole white dress thing and rocks a fierce red latex gown that's very Mugler but with a fetishcore twist. Vox keeps it sleek in a sharp black three-piece suit. His shirt's a bold blue, and his tie matches Val's dress. His shoulder pads are pointy, his waist is slutty, his ass looks divine. Oh yeah, about slutty waist - underneath the shirt he is hiding a leather corset, as a treat for the wedding night.

✨ Also none of them really have friends other than Velvette, just associates so there are no groomsmen/maids.

✨ Since there aren't any traditional churches or government officials in Hell (if there's even a government at all), Velvette takes on the role of officiating the wedding. Vox isn't entirely thrilled with this choice because there's always the risk she might crack a joke or publicly rib him, but hey, there's really no one else who could pull it off. I imagine that a wedding in Hell is also some form of magical contract but more about partnership than ownership. They do not exchange rings but blood sksksk also I don’t think that Vox can really wear rings with his claws? And they couldn't quite agree on a design that satisfied both of them. In the end, Val ends up wearing his illegally imported engagement ring from Earth, featuring four pink diamonds shaped like a moth's wings.

✨ Val's vow is, well, atrocious. It's the kind of thing that would definitely land him in one of those TikTok compilations of terrible grooms ruining their weddings. He mentions cream pieing Vox at least once. Vox at first freaks out but seconds later realizes Wow that's the man I'm marrying. I wouldn't want him any other way On the flip side, Vox's vow is immaculate. Crafted with the assistance of Voxtek's CMO and practiced to perfection, it leaves everyone in awe. He has out-of-body experience playing this role of prince charming.

✨ For their first dance, they opt for a steamy tango. Picture this: swirling red smoke on the floor, making it seem like they're dancing on the sky of the pride ring when the sun is setting down. Little do the guests know, the smoke is laced with drugs, sending most of them on a wild trip. The party quickly goes off the rails, but in the best way possible (according to the Vees’ standards).

✨ The cake is a five-tier monstrosity with five different flavors: tres leches and chocolate-cherry chosen by Val, confetti cake and strawberry cheesecake chosen by Vox and Red Velvet for Velvette because she couldn't shut up about it To top it all off, there's a big chocolate figure of Vox and Valentino dancing. Val is later caught drunk, eating it with his bare hands like the filthy animal he is.

✨ Velvette’s wedding gift is a pair of customized matching guns with small engravings that read "Partners in Crime."

✨ Valentino pulls off a surprise special pole dance performance as a wedding gift for his husband. Let's just say it's scorching hot and leaves at least 50 guests with, uh, visible excitement. Later on, things almost escalate to a full-on table bang, but...

✨ Velvette spends the entire evening reminding them that they can't just vanish to consummate their marriage because this whole party took months of preparations, and they need to be present. After all, people paid good money to be around them. The threat of cock cages hangs over their heads, but they promise to behave. However, Val being the horny beast he is, ends up taking Vox to the bathroom for a quickie anyway. Velvette decides to let it slide this time.

✨ At least 20 casualties mark the night. Vox ends up zapping one of the guests who gets a bit too clingy with Val during the dance. Meanwhile, Val gets into a brawl and, well, let's just say it doesn't end well for the other guy. Surprisingly, everyone seems to be having a great time, but hey, these are the Vees' colleagues we're talking about—they thrive on violence and sex.

✨ Yeah, there's no shortage of sex at this party. With a guest list mainly consisting of businesspeople, adult performers, and mobsters, tensions escalate rapidly. By around 3 A.M., half of the party is busy getting down and dirty in every corner imaginable.

✨ When Vox reaches the perfect level of drunkenness, he seizes control of the DJ station. Surprisingly, he's a natural, dropping beats like a pro and having an absolute blast. Val, meanwhile, goes absolutely wild watching him, thrilled to see Vox letting loose and embracing his creative side.

✨ Derek, Vox's assistant, is the odd one out, the only low-status person to snag an invite because Vox felt kinda generous. But truth be told, Derek hates the idea and wasn't keen on attending. However, when Melissa caught wind of his invitation, she practically dragged him there to be his plus one, desperate to get closer to Velvette. Derek's terrified of most of the guests, but Melissa's over the moon. She later fucks him as a reward for being a very brave boy. Angel is not invited because he would ruin mood of both grooms.

✨ Valentino had prepared the filthiest, kinkiest, most elaborate wedding night, but it doesn't go as planned. Surprisingly, things turn out very vanilla for their standards, with a lot of missionary, eye contact, and hand-holding. After 16 hours of non-stop action, they're both too exhausted to even think about getting creative.

Thank you @purrpleowl @watcherofeternalflame @canadianlucifer @aroromantic @malu897 @staticmothed @chaggieslovechild @gumm1defloor @mayflowersfly for your thoughts!

[rockingrobin69]

Peppers, please

(Also on AO3, 1.6k)

“I’ve been informed,” Harry Potter burst through the door with his habitual earth-quake of a shout, “that you don’t even like peppers!”

“Good morning,” Draco said dryly. Harry Potter glared.

With a sigh, Draco retreated to the kitchen to fetch the biscuits from the cupboard.

Around his third one, an insistent crumb hanging to his upper lip with all its tiny might: “Peppers, Malfoy!”

“Pardon?”

“Peppers!”

Draco blinked. “If you’ll be so kind as to tell me what on earth you’re on about.”

“Pansy said you hate them!”

He looked absolutely outraged. Draco sipped his long-cold tea.

“Do I?”

“She said you’re allergic!”

“Am I?”

“Stop—fucking with me.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dare.” But the corner of his lips was twitching. “I’m not allergic. I was simply a horribly dramatic child and she still naïve back when we were, what, six. Seven. I’m fine with peppers now.”

Harry Potter pouted, terribly chipmunk-ish, and even put the biscuit pack down. Down to business. “I cooked the—bloody hell, Malfoy, just, honestly. Why wouldn’t you say? That you hate peppers. I would’ve made something else. I would have happily—why?”

Utterly bemused, “I am. Honest, I mean. I don’t mind peppers anymore.”

“That’s a fucking lie and we both know it.”

Grasping at straws and failing, at least managing to stop the wobble of his stupid mouth, the automatic turning downwards. Went for his cup instead. The tea was ice-cold and flavourless and Draco poured it down his throat like it could cure him.

“Your hair’s a mess,” he then said, venomous, and turned his eyes back to the wall, where they refused to stay. It was always like this when Harry Potter barged into his flat. Even the water stains on the ceiling lost their usual allure and could not hold his attention. “If it’s raining, cast a bloody Impervious. Or take an umbrella.”

Harry Potter took a deep breath instead, sounding awfully, weirdly small. Some of the tension bled out of him in increments, his shoulders first, then the fists unclenching, then his belly un-hardening. His jaw was last. Draco was helplessly mesmerised by the transformation.

“You’re impossible,” his voice finally not straining, his fingers not twitching towards the biscuits. No longer needing the obvious distraction. “Next time, if I make something you dislike, you have to tell me.”

“An order,” Draco huffed. “How sweet.”

Harry Potter could blush all the way to the roots of his hair. It was such a stunning, breath-stealing thing to witness.

“It’s not a… fuck you, Malfoy.”

“Hmm.”

They sat there in strangely amicable silence. The oven still gave that choking, desperate cough every ten seconds, and it set a nice framework for their breathing, for the non-fidgeting. Harry Potter was always fidgety, but not when he sat in Draco’s kitchen like this.

“What’s your schedule? For today. Nev said you’re doing overtime again.” Leaning back, giving Draco that look all his friends liked to wear, the one on the border of a telling-off. It didn’t usually work on him, but Harry Potter had a slight edge to his disappointment that made Draco’s skin crawl.

“Not—exactly. Shouldn’t be so late. I’ll be home for bedtime, Mother, I promise.”

Even his mother didn’t glare like that. “Third time this week? I kind of want to strangle your boss.”

“Ha. Violence is usually frowned upon in the workplace.”

He didn’t smile, but he came near it. Draco could tell, because the corners of his eyes were dancing. “Does it count if it isn’t my workplace?”

“Mm. Fair enough. Strangle away.”  

Now he was smiling. “When d’you start? Want a ride?”

And Draco was so grateful he didn’t launch yet another tirade about how Draco should quit his awful job that he said, “Why not.” (Only because he was distracted and rather tired, and not because sitting behind Harry Potter on his motorbike was in itself half-punishment, and not because clinging to his waist on tight turns at far-too-quick was—anything at all). On the downside, it made Harry Potter practically beam, and Draco still needed his eyes.

“Great! I mean. That’s good. That you won’t be late. Bad for your, er, record, and stuff, and you might not get a—bonus or something.”

They didn’t do bonuses at McMillan & McMillan, but that was neither here nor there. Draco nodded, pushed himself up on not so flimsy legs, collected his coat from where it was crumpled on the back of a chair.

“What about lunch?”

“Hmm?”

“You didn’t take. Any lunch.”

Why was he so obsessed with food? It was dangerously endearing. “I have an apple in my bag. Come now, you promised I won’t be late.”

“An—” Harry Potter shook his head, loosening even more curls out of his bun. They were rain-flat and miserable and still entirely too sweet. “I’ll buy you a sandwich at that poor excuse for a cafeteria you got in that building. And so help me god, Malfoy, you’ll eat it, or—”

“All right,” both hands up, “no need to shout. Your wish is my command, etcetera.”

He pouted so hard it was almost comical. But there was something still wounded there, so Draco added, “As long as there’s peppers, you know,” and then he was fuming again, bouncing on the balls of his feet and ready to deliver yet-another lecture. Draco watched him, amused, and forgot to lock the door behind him, and forgot his scarf.

Did remember his umbrella, which he Leviosa-ed to follow the Death Machine, stuck it against the back of the silly jacket when they reached the office. It wasn’t raining anymore, thankfully allowing Draco to arrive not wet-dog for a change, and it made absolutely no difference.

Harry Potter took off his helmet to watch Draco enter the building. Didn’t follow him inside (wise, to prevent a murder), and so Draco completely forgot about the sandwich threat until it was roughly lunchtime. At which point, a drawer in his desk suddenly jumped open, and a far-too-fancy £12 bready monstrosity appeared. On it a note that scrawled pepper-free, git.

Harry Potter had a lot to answer for. Draco, distracted, chipped away at the sandwich all the same, and was only shouted at twice, and didn’t even spill coffee on his keyboard.

‘Not exactly overtime’ at the office meant staying after everyone else to take note of stock and arrange all the impossible paperwork. That Draco was given this task was already hilarious, and always a disaster: that his boss insisted on continuing to give it to him, possibly commendable. Maybe he thought Draco was being stubborn. Maybe he thought, nobody could really be this bad without actively trying. Well, he didn’t know Draco yet! There was always time to learn.

Stock was stocked. The backroom was stuffy and still smelling slightly of smoke (not Draco’s fault, probably), the sweet scent of old paperwork going to rot. It made his head spin, made him inhale a little brokenly and laugh to himself. The sandwich Harry Potter forced him to eat sat heavy in his belly, sweating. Everything was so incredibly laughable.

When he finally finished (after only forgetting three steps in the protocol), the sun had long set and the streetlights were humming. Not worrying, Draco thought, going back to the office (forgot his bag). Not worrying at all (back to the office, to check he locked the door). (Why would anyone give him the keys?) (Some disasters were just asking to happen).

On his way home he stopped by the corner shop for another pack of biscuits. Some disasters, sure, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t prepare in advance. Harry Potter would surge in soon enough with another grievance. Draco was giddy by nature, and so the shakiness was not necessarily to do with this.

Under the crescent moon drowning in cloud he wondered, do I hate peppers?

Couldn’t remember to decide by the time he made it back.

The flat, Harry-Potter-less, was not entirely quiet and frankly disinteresting. Draco forced himself in the shower (the smoky smell always caught in hair, then on pillows, and made sleep be—not sleep at all). Scrubbed, whatever. Even towelled himself dry like a real human being, and only slipped a little on the stupid rug he kept meaning to banish, to Vanish, to—chuck. He was tired. The smoke-thing was not a metaphor. He got barely the bare minimum last night.

Bear minimum? Like bear claws? Better than fire, he thought, nonsensically. Tired-Draco had a tired brain and it was only half-working in the best of times. Dragged himself to bed, knew he won’t get away that easy.

To the ceiling, too dark to make the water stains: what did Harry Potter have for his lunch? He always ate, but only when he made Draco eat too. It was some sort of ritual. A demonic binding of sorts. They had other friends who could make him eat, like Ronald and also Ronald and mostly only Ronald, and sometimes Hermione. They had other friends, but Harry Potter always ate if Draco did.

A horrible thought suddenly occurred to him: was he manipulating Harry Potter? Had he truly forgotten to pack lunch, or did he do that on purpose? Thankfully, the panic was cut off when he suddenly thought, shit, I never locked the office.

But he did. He went back to check, remember? Silly. By the time he was thinking of Harry Potter’s eating habit, he forgot to fidget about whether he was viciously tricking him or not.

Some disasters, Draco thought, half-drifting, were just asking to happen.

So, it's on AO3. It might even continue, who knows.

[miscfandomwrites]

A/N: Based off a prompt of two people who don't work well together being forced to make breakfast together, expect one of them fucks something up. Also, I made some characters have food allergies. Because I can and it helps make them more relatable in my opinion. Anywho, I can make more of this if y'all like.

Pairing: Stephen Strange x Reader (tried to keep it non-discript as possible)

Warnings: langauge

Words: 700ish

Tagging: @tyler-t0t

~

“You’ve never learned how to cook?” 

“Well, I have, I just don’t mess with hot things or knives or anything that might damage my hands.” 

“Well, that’s a bit vain, but considering your job is messing with someone's very delicate brain, I think you can get a pass. This time.” 

“Oh, this time, huh? Thanks, I guess.” 

I grinned at him. “C’mon, it’s our turn to make breakfast today, we’re gonna go all out so I can show you how to cook.” 

I grabbed a pair of aprons from the side of the fridge, tossing one to him. “I’ll do prep and you can make everything, should be simple.”

I asked FRIDAY to open up a digital whiteboard, and jotted down the ideas I had for breakfast: 

Banana Bread (2 loaves)

Pancakes with and without blueberries

Quiche (3)

Breakfast potatoes (two sheets)

Scrambled eggs

Bacon

Breakfast sausage

Sourdough bread

“That doesn’t look ‘Simple to me’ “ Strange remarked, eyes widening at the list as he finished tying his apron. 

“This is nothing, I used to work in a summer camp kitchen. Besides, we’re feeding several super soldiers, a couple gods, and several others.” I told him as FRIDAY helped make the lists of everything I’d need, and thankfully I had woken up early to feed and start the sourdough bread so it’d be ready to put into the oven in about half an hour. 

Putting on some 2010 hits from when I was a bit younger, I started pulling out ingredients while Stephen got the bowls, pots, and pans ready for it. 

I quickly diced and chopped a variety of vegetables and prepped some quiche in some pre-crusted pans that I pulled from the freezer, popping them into the first oven while I monitored Stephen making the banana bread. 

“Is this literally it? No seasonings or add-ins?” He questioned as he poured the first bread mix into the greased pan. 

“I mean, you can add like cinnamon and nutmeg and stuff but Clint has a nut allergy so I don’t, and last week we found out Loki is allergic to cinnamon, so.” I told him as I parboiled some potatoes. 

He paused at that and turned to me, confused. “A god from another planet has an allergy?” 

“Yeah, not surprising if you think about it for a bit. Took me a little bit to think about it as well.” I replied, taking a sip of my coffee as I used a fork to poke a potato. 

He narrowed his eyes and stared off into space for a bit, something I usually did when I was trying to figure out something in my head. 

“I mean, he is from another planet after all, and I don’t suppose they have the same spices as we do, so that leaves a whole world of possibilities open for them.” He said slowly after a moment. 

I nodded, taking the potatoes off the heat and straining them into the colander in the sink. 

“Peter is allergic to food dyes. Which is why he’s in the kitchen so often making his own candy with his friends.” 

“So that explains the large jar of sugar on the counter then.” he motioned to it as he put the bowl and measuring spoons into the sink. 

“Oh that? I think it’s citric acid, but I’d ask him at breakfast before you go putting it into anything.” 

He stopped for a moment and sheepishly rubbed the back of his head, making me pause. 

“You put that into the banana bread, didn’t you?” 

“It looked like sugar! What else was I supposed to use?” He yelled at me. 

“I don’t know! Maybe the jar on the left of the sink with the label Plain Sugar on it!” I yelled back, heading over to the fruit bowl and yanking the rest of the bananas from it. 

“It’s fine, we’ll just keep them in the kitchen and hopefully no one will notice.” 

~ One hour later ~

Everyone had started coming from their various morning routines and piled into the kitchen, grabbing bowls of food and taking it into the dining room as I got the hot pitchers ready with both regular and decaf coffee, and pulling out the pitches of various juices and iced coffee, carrying them into the room as well. 

As we finally all sat down, I explained how Stephen helped make breakfast and pointed towards the banana bread, and soon enough everyone had a slice. 

“WHAT THE FUCK!?” came from Bucky, spitting out the slice on his plate. “WHY IS IT SOUR?” 

Welp, looks like people noticed.

[cuddlepilefics]

“I’m not okay” - juneofdoom

Fandom: Enhypen

Sickies: Enhypen

Caregivers: Enhypen

Tw: blood

@juneofdoom

No one’s POV.:

The group was just heading to the airport to fly back home after their most recent tour. Though they were exhausted, from travelling and performing multiple times a week, the members were in high spirits. Their tour had been a success and they were overwhelmed by just how many people came to cheer for them. The frequent flights and changes in weather between the different locations had left most of the members a little sniffly. Sunoo seemed to have been hit the worst, losing his voice during the last performance of their tour. He had immediately been put on vocal rest and now tiredly trudged through the airport hall flanked by Jay and one of their managers. Jake and Niki, though a little stuffed up themselves, had made it their mission to cheer their friend up. It might have done Sunoo more harm than good because it mostly ended with him muffling a strained cough into the large, fluffy scarf he had been made to wear.

Sunghoon too had been incredibly quiet the past few days, despite the proud smile lingering on his lips. They had made it. Thinking back to how they had fought their way through i-Land and seeing the crowds that had come for them and them alone never failed to make Sunghoon’s heart swell. He couldn’t deny that he would’ve loved for less people to come to see them off at the airport though. Pulling down his hood and fixing his mask, he managed to conceal how pale his skin had become lately. He always needed to watch his diet and sleep closely to make sure he got the nutrients and rest his body needed, so his anemia wouldn’t get out of hand. On tour, he doubted he had gotten enough of either, so it was hard to tell whether the headache and occasional dizzy spells were due to that or if he too was slowly coming down with the cold being passed around between the members and staff.

Heeseung had linked his arm with Sunghoon, having already kept a close eye on the younger when they had left for the airport despite nursing a headache of his own. The eldest really didn’t want a repetition of the boy collapsing within a crowd of people though he apparently didn’t need to worry. With his voice sounding tired and a little scratchy, Sunghoon still pulled the occasional joke, barely loud enough for Heeseung to hear but the older knew that Sunghoon would be fine and he could start worrying once the other lost his humor.

Jungwon mostly flew under the members radar, walking next to a manager. As the leader, there were things he’d have to see to only a couple of days after returning home, while the others would get a few more days off. He wasn’t bitter about it though, already grateful for the few days of rest he’d get. Meeting Engene had left him ecstatic, enough so that he had barely felt how he was slowly running himself into the ground. That didn’t mean that he had any regrets about the effort and hard work all of them had put in, oh hell no, but the lack of sleep, hours of travelling and jetlag were slowly catching up to him. Jungwon’s muscles were sore, his tired body aching all over, and he really wasn’t looking forward to such a long flight back to Korea but the promise of sleeping in his own bed again after so long made the discomfort worth it.

Since he had always been the sneeziest member of the group, him catching a cold wasn’t as obvious as it was in Sunoo. Jay too was very obviously down with it, barely able to go a few minutes without coughing, though he seemed to be fine aside from that and the members didn’t worry about him much because they knew he could take care of himself. He also seemed in control of the situation, still taking care of his dongsaengs as if he wasn’t sick as well. Jungwon wished he could be like him some day. As the leader, he felt like he should be the one taking care of the members the most. At the same time, his hyungs seemed to have it handled perfectly fine, so he wasn’t even sure what else he could do. Maybe he’d be able to think of something helpful if only his minds wasn’t so clouded by exhaustion.

“Do you want some coffee or are you going to try and sleep through the flight?”, Jake asked, startling Jungwon. How long had the Aussie been standing next to him?! Chuckling at the leader’s shocked expression, Jake smiled: “We’re going to grab something to drink while we wait to board the plane. Jay-hyung will get tea for himself and Sunoo, Heeseung-hyung is planning to buy more cough drops for them, so I’ll get coffee for him and I. You look like you have a headache, should I buy you some coke? Maybe the sugar and caffeine will make you feel better.”

Wow, apparently, Jungwon hadn’t been flying under the radar as much as he had been expecting though he wasn’t sure whether that was a good thing or not. He didn’t want to worry his group when none of them were on top of their game. Rubbing his face, Jungwon sniffled: “It’s a sinus headache, so I don’t think caffeine will do much. I’d rather just sleep on the plane. Thanks for the offer though. What are the others up to?” – “Sure. We could get you tea too. You’ve been sneezing a lot, even for your standards, so I’m not surprised. Sunghoon’s going to lay down in the waiting area, manager-nim and Sunoo will stay with him and I think Niki-yah wants to grab some snacks”, Jake offered with a sympathetic smile. The younger waved him off, muttering something about going to check on Sunghoon and Sunoo.

Jake relayed the message to Heeseung, Jay and Niki before they split up. Worried about what the altitude changes might do to Jungwon’s already swollen sinuses, Heeseung picked up some nasal spray for his dongsaeng while Jay bought a third cup of tea despite the leader not asking for it. When the group reunited, Sunghoon sat up and rested his head on Niki’s shoulder. They shared some snacks and the older was relieved to feel a little more alive after that. Sunoo shot Jay a cute smile as thanks before quietly sipping his tea and Jungwon too was grateful for the tea after all. The steam made his nose run like crazy and the members giggled when he caught a wet sneeze in his hand, excusing himself to the restroom with an embarrassed flush on his cheeks.

Jungwon’s sneezing increased after that, so he was glad that all of them carried multiple travel packs of tissues. The only upside to all of them being sick was all of them having some supplies in their carry-on bags. Heeseung tapped Jungwon’s shoulder and wordlessly handed him the nasal spray he had bought. There was no need for the eldest to point out that he needed it, that much was obvious and Jungwon was glad that his hyung didn’t push the topic because the other members were already teasing him for how much he was sneezing. That wasn’t anything out of the ordinary and Jungwon usually didn’t mind because him having a sensitive nose that could be set off by anything was a commonly known fact within the group. Right now, he wasn’t in the mood for it though. His sinuses ached and it was difficult to breathe well, despite his frequent attempts at blowing his nose, hoping to clear some of the congestion.

Trying to pass the time till boarding, the members had started to reminisce about the moments they had enjoyed most about the tour. Niki was truly hyped, rambling on and on, barely noticing how he occasionally slipped in a few Japanese words as the languages blended together in his sleepy mind. The members didn’t point it out, merely chuckling at the way his voice cracked every once in a while. Though he teased the maknae about being pubertal, Jake made sure the youngest had some water to sip on. Jungwon barely witnessed the boy’s embarrassment though, his nose already tingling again.

Already descending into another itchy sneezing fit, Jungwon turned away from the group, hands clamped tightly over the lower half of his face. Tired of being the target of the groups teasing for his voice cracks, Niki made a teasing comment about Jungwon’s sneezes and turned the group’s focus on their leader. Jungwon desperately shook his head, his breath hitching as he forced out: “I- hih ‘m not hiihhh- I’m ndot okay hih- H’iKTsh!’ H-’khSHt’NGsT!” That was when Heeseung spotted a small trickle of blood running from between his dongsaeng’s fingers. Cursing under his breath, the eldest pulled out a few more tissues and thrust them into Jungwon’s hand before helping the leader up and guiding him to the bathroom.

Jay was hot on their heels, running some paper towels under cold water and draping them across Jungwon’s neck. “Don’t tell me you sneezed so hard that you gave yourself a nosebleed”, Jay frowned, glancing at his watch to see how much time they’d have till their flight. The younger barely glanced up at him with watering eyes as he pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to slow the bleeding. Helplessly rubbing Jungwon’s back, Heeseung worried: “It rarely happens just once a day. Once you get a nosebleed it usually starts back up multiple times a day. What are we going to do about the flight?” He made eye contact with Jay, who was also aware of their dongsaeng’s tendency to get multiple nose bleeds a day. “We got loads of tissues, right? I’ll also stuff some of these paper towels into my pockets, so you’ll be okay, Wonnie”, Jay promised, combing the leader’s hair out of his face, “Take off and touch down are probably the most problematic due to the pressure changes but aside from that, I don’t think the air-conditioning will do more harm than it already has.”

“Ow”, Jungwon rasped, slowly removing his hands from his face now that the bleeding had almost stopped. Handing the boy more paper towels, so he could clean his face up, Heeseung comforted: “The worst thing that could possibly happen would be making a mess but there’s nothing that can’t be cleaned one way or another, so don’t worry.” – “This timing sucks”, Jungwon mumbled, dabbing at the last remaining droplets of blood. Jay hummed in confirmation and wrapped his arm around the younger’s shoulder. “Let’s get back to the others. It should be about time to go on the plane”, Jay whispered as he guided his dongsaeng back into the waiting area.

Patting the space beside him, Sunghoon invited the leader to sit down for another minute and offered: “Do you want some Vaseline? The skin around your nostrils is red and raw from how much you’ve been rubbing at it. Bad enough if the inside of your nose is bleeding, let’s not let it bleed on the outside too.” Jungwon thanked him quietly and dabbed some of the offered Vaseline on the chapped skin. They both leant into each other’s side, tiredly waiting till their flight was called. It was really time for them to get home

[fenmere]

This bit of flash fiction was inspired by @ayviedoesthings' dragon HRT comic series, and all the other spin off comics that other cartoonists are making. We wanted to participate!

But, we're burnt out on drawing comics, and yet we can write a lot of prose really fast, and that's our thing now, so here we go.

We're not asking that it be considered canon to the collective stories. We only felt compelled to write it, and hope that at least someone is entertained by it.

This is what we imagine would happen if we walked into the doctor's office:

---

The doctor's office is nearly featureless. There are white walls unadorned by the usual posters or framed credentials, marred only by outlets and a simple wooden door that opens to admit what looks at first to be a single human.

The doctor, who is balding with small circular glasses, looks up from his steepled fingers to visually evaluate what he assumes is his next patient. However, his eyes settle on a concerning accessory that they are carrying.

Although the visitor is dressed in a very typical outfit for a trans feminine person with a side cut, they are carrying a very stuffy looking brown leather suitcase.

The kind that lawyers all seem to carry.

It's very out of place, and alarming.

"Everything I do here is above board," the doctor says, reflexively. "I can show you my licenses."

"We are not concerned about that," the visitor says, sitting down in the guest chair and placing the briefcase on the doctor's desk. But they don't elaborate and just wait with an obviously self satisfied smile.

The doctor frowns and picks a script to use, "What am I seeing you for today?"

The grin broadens, "We understand that you administer something you've been calling 'Humanity Removal Therapy'."

"That is what some of my patients have been calling it. Yes," the doctor says. Despite having said this to so many people alread, he tenses. Something about this conversation feels off. But he explains anyway, "The therapies I offer, however, only change the body and mind, not a person's identity. If you're human before you start them, you'll be human when you complete them. And, if you're not, well. Then you already know why what I offer is so important."

"Yes, indeed," his guest says.

He hasn't yet gotten them to admit they're a patient. In theory, this appointment was set for a patient intake, but that suitcase and their demeanor has him reluctant to assume anything. That use of plural first person sure made it sound like they were a soliciter.

"Can we cut to the chase?" he asks. "Are you here as a patient like my schedule says? Or do I need to ask my assistant to see you out?"

The guest raises their hand and says, "We're sorry for the false pretense. We're new to your culture and do not know the proper channels. Also, we thought a demonstration of what we can offer your patients might be necessary. We know that you deal in the unbelievable already, but our abilities might strain even your sense of reality."

Scowling, the doctor reaches for his desk phone's intercom button.

"Oh, yes, let's give your assistant a donstration, too!" the guest exclaims.

His hand hovers over the phone, frozen in place. His scowl deepens. He thinks about the Manticor he'd just seen last week. It'd been just a couple years since he'd opened his practice, and in that time he'd developed a keen sense of when to not move, not provoke.

"What are you going to do?" the doctor asks.

"Well," the guest says, "Allow us to introduce ourselves first. We are the Inmara, or the Great Alliance in English. And we have developed a formula to help other beings, such as humans, take a physiological form identical to our own. We'd like to offer it to your patients."

The doctor narrows his eyes and points out, "You appear to be human. My patients rarely hold any interest in appearing to be human."

"Ah, that's where our demonstration comes in," the Inmara says, standing up and pushing their chair back. "This is just part of our protective coloration. We assure you that we are not remotely human."

Before he has a chance yo even feel alarmed, let alone protest, they shrug off their coat and step out of their Birkenstocks, and then begin to change.

Cheap, poorly made second hand Walmart brand clothing shreds easily as the Inmara's body bulges, writhes, twists, and grows fluidly into a truly terrifying monster with glowing frills and wings, and a maw the size of the doctor's torso.

The doctor finds he still can't bring himself to move. He had the chance to retract his arm, but that’s it. His own body knows better than to draw the eye of a predator by moving.

"We are Ktletaccete, doctor. And this is what we look like. We are certain a percentage of your patients will find this form desirable?"

"Cleh-tatch-a-whoozits?" his mouth blurts.

"Ktletaccete," they say. "Up until now, we've been a closed species, but we've been rethinking that choice."

"You look like a giant axolotl with antlers and an angler fish lure," he observes.

"Ah. There are some vague similarities to your tiny water dragons, yes."

"We already offer axolotl HRT. It's very popular."

The monster narrows their eyes and says, "This is just our juvenile form. When we reach maturity, we become a metamorphic species, and can take the appearance of any local life form. And more. Some of us have chosen to appear as wolves. Another has chosen the shape of a dump truck sized hare. You have already seen one of our human forms. We can even become various kinds of what you consider to be mythological beings. Dragons, hydra, mermaids, harpies, anything we can visualize clearly."

"Scary," he says.

"Freedom!" the Inmara says. "True bodily autonomy. We are offering your patients something no other therapy can afford them. The option to change their minds at any time!"

"Hm," he grunts. "You may be surprised. The number of patients who choose to lose themselves in full transformation is higher than you might think."

"Yes. But imagine how many more clients you could attract with the power we offer!" The bizarre draconic amphibian goliath settles back on their haunches. "We are certain that soon, even neurotypical humans could find the possibilities unimaginably enticing. Also, there really aren’t that many similarities between this and an axolotl. These aren’t gills."

Something about that raised alarm bells in every corner of the doctor's mind.

"Where did you say you come from, again?" he asks.

"Oh. Yes. We've been traveling across your galaxy for quite some time. We came upon your planet when we intercepted -"

"So, you’re aliens."

"Yes?"

"And you want me to help you turn Earthlings into more of your kind?"

"Well..."

"This sounds like the kind of invasion you'd see on Doctor Who."

“Now - OK. We can see that. But think about the benefits.”

“Sometimes I do wonder about the ethics of my practice,” the doctor says, putting a hand on his desk as he starts to stand up. “I always come around to how important it really is for people to be able to be themselves. But this? I’d feel like I was betraying my own kind.” He stops, partially standing, feeling like he’s taken a step too far. Fear chills him to the bone as his mind races through all the consequences that this huge shapeshifting monster could mete out upon him.

“So, that’s a ‘no’?” The Inmara asks.

He can’t bring himself to respond. Even more consequences and possibilities begin to haunt and torment him.

“We really have no interest in becoming competition for you,” the Inmara explains with a saddened tone. “Disrupting the ecosystem of this planet isn’t really in our interests, and that includes impacts to what you call your economy. But, it is important to us to bring true autonomy to all sentient species, and this is the way we know how to do so. And we do have the means to set up our own organization here and distribute this ourselves.”

They turn to leave and the doctor hears his mouth utter, “Wait!” His pulse quickening further, he pulls a sharp intake of breath and straightens up.

The manticore situation from last week keeps coming back to his mind. And he can’t help but consider how this being in front of him could have handled it with the capabilities they’ve demonstrated. That case could have gone so differently. So much better.

The Inmara turn to face him, mid-transformation back to human shape, coat in their left hand, “Yes?”

He is as surprised by his own words as he had been by anything else that happened today, as he says, “Could you leave a sample? A full regimen for a single person? I would like to… er… monitor a case... before I agree to this.”

After all, as he and his clients tend to agree, humanity, or the lack of it, isn’t in the body or the mind. Those things are just tools for the being that owns them.

And sometimes a tool could use an upgrade.

[dollsonmain]

I know folks are probably getting tired of this by now so you get a tag AND a cut.

But I feel like discussing this sort of thing might help people sometimes? since it's a first person account instead of listicles online.

What they did and didn't tell me about having stents.

They told me why: Facilitates drainage which takes strain (pressure) off of the kidneys and helps the antibiotics work by helping prevent pockets of infected urine reforming (that's what was making me sick, stuck urine that had built up lots of bacteria).

They told me how-ish: They go up with various catheters and things and install the stents, the stents stay in place until they are removed. Some stents have lines that exit the body to facilitate removal. Mine do not. The doc didn't want me accidentally pulling them out since the area they're in is heavily infected. They'll be removed at my first stone removal surgery in about two weeks from installation which was a couple days ago.

They did not tell me how-completely: The stents are hooked into my body meat like little fish hooks. They also didn't tell me they'd be taking urine for testing from my bladder and each kidney or that they would also be draining both kidneys during the procedure, so I did get a fluid-pressure reset.

They did not tell me basically anything about what the next two weeks will be like.

I'm on flowmax to soften my bladder so it's easier to empty. I don't think I needed that, I was peeing fine, but stents do change things.

I was worried that I might push them out while pooping but that's not likely to the point of nearly impossible. Not 100%, but nearly.

These things feel like a bad UTI and I have two of them. I got the ows, the zaps, the GOTTA GOs every few minutes. At least now I know that ALL of those pains are UTI pains, you know? I'd get some random pain sometimes and be like "what was that......" and now I know. It was UTI and pressure in my kidneys and the pain signals were traveling around the whole renal system. Because they do that.

I'm in a lot more pain now than I was with just the kidney stones. It is very, VERY atypical but my kidney stones and the pressure behind them don't hurt. Those nerves may have died off.

There's varying amounts of blood in my urine, sometimes very little, sometimes a lot. Sometimes there are clots. That's all normal but I had to ask as things were happening.

I get up every couple hours in the night and some times I don't make it to the toilet (I did all last night, so that is improving).

They also didn't warn me that just having the surgery itself might make me wet myself because the muscles hadn't all regained strength/how long it would take for the anesthesia to fully wear off.

I called the doctor's office and asked about that, too.

I'm glad I thought to have That Guy bring Depends but that's also something you'd think someone would like, mention. You know?

So that's what having stents has been like so far.

Feels like a bad UTI, though for some people they feel nothing. Need adult diapers for accidents. Need to be near a toilet at all times, and not going to get a hell of a lot of continuous sleep for a while.

-

I also think it's worth noting that I've had two male doctors blow me off about this and I think the only thing that went differently at the ER was that it was a female doctor.

The first male doctor said it was an anxiety attack.

The second male doctor said it was a viral stomach bug.

The female doctor listened to my symptoms and ordered a bunch of tests.

So, more personal blather about the whole situation.

While I was in the first ER I heard a man yelling and starting trouble in the waiting room. That Guy and Son got up and left as soon as the man was distracted by a security guy. I'd had told them to go home as soon as they dropped me off and I would text if I needed picked up. I knew I wasn't going home, though.

-

My neighbor was an elderly lady and they kept trying to figure out when she'd last pooped but she couldn't remember. Finally she called them in and was like I need to poop so they wrestled her up on a bed pan (she cried, she was in a lot of pain) and then left her alone with her curtain closed to poop. Right then the floor doctor walked in and was like HI MISS GERALDINE and whipped her curtain open to start talking to her.

...

I chewed him out. That's very atypical of me. Like, I laid into him for not asking if she was wanting to talk in that exact moment. And then I felt really bad until I realized he's probably had people a lot more angry at him than me considering a lot of the patients I could hear were elderly and some were confused, and I didn't feel bad anymore.

-

Since it's a university-run hospital there were sometimes pairs of nurses, and at one point a trainee came in to give me a dose of antibiotics through the IV but she hooked it into the wrong plug which depressurized the system and blood starting backing up the tube. As soon as she saw that she ran to get her trainer and they spent some time doing a full reset of the IV set up.

I wasn't worried or anything. It was my own blood and it could only go so far/only so much could be lost. At the most a cup since the saline bag was fresh and mostly full, still. So I was totally calm the whole time, which I'm sure helped.

I think the nurse in training was surprised when her trainer stepped out and I encouraged her instead of yelling at her. I praised her for not being too proud to get help when she noticed an issue, and for observing how to rectify the situation.

-

That Guy was like "Yesterday's nurses did NOT like me..." and I was like yeah I kind of told on you, but not out loud. He got put on the shit list FAST by staff. So for that I have a note in my account that I'm experiencing financial abuse and he exhibits controlling behavior. If there ever is a point where Son and I have to leave, I have the name of where to call. There's a facility in Next Town Over where the hospital is that will come and get us, and that would be the last time we see him.

I feel guilty for saying anything because he has paid for my existence for decades but he has also been abusive, just not physically.

They asked me if Son is safe at home alone with That Guy and I said "Safe, yes. Happy, no."

They also asked like how is Son and I said he seems to understand that his father's behavior isn't his fault but he still has had to endure it.

I also in the process learned how much money he makes (I didn't know before) and wow we should all certainly have insurance (he and Son might through his work but I have nothing and don't qualify for assistance while he claims me on his taxes as a dependent) and have had medical care all this time and there's no reason at all to be doing the whole -pointedly look at the food receipt every grocery trip, look up at the sky angrily, shake his head, shove it in his pocked, huff, and walk away- thing. Also explains why his work friends keep suggesting burger joints that end up costing like $80 for the whole family....

[in-my-feels-probably]

Epiphany

Full Request: I was hoping to see a continuation of Rhaenyra x shifter reader. From my interpretation of reading the pieces both the king and her uncle had a fondness/soft spot for Y/N and the happiness she makes Rhaenyra feel. So was hoping to see a continuation where having confessed their love for each other and that they are already close to each other and sleep together, they start courting. It could either be them openly courting in the castle or openly in front of the realm. One idea that might get woven it could be along the lines of something happening, an attack of some sorts, either on the red keep or just something getting out of hand in the throne room. Perhaps Y/N shifts into a dragon to protect Rhaenyra. Which would also allow them to test out that spitting fire theory.

Hi! This is part three to the shapeshifter series, please read the first two first. You can find them here. I’m very open to writing another part if requested, which is why I left it a little open ended. This is a little off script to the show, I morphed it to fit my idea, sorry if any of the details are a little fuzzy. Thank you so much for the request, I know we talked a little about the details, but I hope you’re ok with what I came up with. I really love this series, thank you to whoever requested the first part, it’s been so fun writing. This part is a bit long, I’m sorry if it drags, I got carried away. I hope you enjoy it, let me know what you think!

(Warnings: blood, attacks, mentions of death and pain, actual death, swearing, let me know if i missed anything)

—

It was a particularly hard week for Rhaenyra, and you didn’t quite know what to do to help. It was the week of festivities for the castle, ending with a great hunt. The King asked Rhaenyra to accompany him, although he wasn’t really asking, so much as telling. She needed to show her face, now that the realm had sworn an oath to uphold her as heir, and it was time for her to start acting like a leader.

Rhaenyra, ever the stubborn one, insisted you come along to keep her company. The King relented, not wanting to put any further strain on his relationship with his daughter. Plus, he quite enjoyed your company as well, and appreciated that you brought a smile to his daughter’s face, even when he couldn’t. 

The decision only slightly aided in easing the Princess’s temper, grateful to at least have you by her side, but it was only temporary. The both of you knew what this trip was really about.

The time had come for Rhaenyra to start courting. 

If she was to be heir, she needed a strong husband, one of which who’d last long enough to sire new heirs to the throne. Her father left it up to her to pick the man who would make her happy, or one that at least would be the most tolerable. 

Rhaenyra recognized her duty, but she wasn’t happy about it. She’d spent the night before you were to leave close to you, quiet. Wanting to keep the peace and not upset her further, you kept quiet too. 

She was curled into your side, absentmindedly staring into the fireplace. You ran your fingers through her hair, an arm secured around her shoulders as she lay with her head on your chest. 

“I don’t want to marry,” she finally said. “It’s not fair.”

You felt a twinge in your chest at her words, clutching her a little tighter to you. None of it was fair. It shouldn’t have been her responsibility to take the throne, to sacrifice her own happiness…but it was.

 “I know, Princess. I know.”

She sat up, locking eyes with you. “I get no say in the matter, no choice. I never have a choice! I don’t get to pick for me, not really. Yes, I have my pick of the litter, but all of those pompous Lords only want one thing. I’d just be settling for the least horrid. What I really mean to say is, I don’t get to pick for me…I don’t get to pick for you.”

You cupped her cheek, and she leaned into your touch, pressing her face to your palm. You smiled sadly, running a thumb across her cheekbone. 

“I pick you. I’ll pick for the both of us. I’ll always pick you, Princess.”

Her face crumpled at your words, and she settled back into your arms, holding you tighter than before. She didn’t let go the entire night. 

—

The next day, you spent the majority of it near Rhaenyra, but gave her enough space so that potential suitors could approach her. She sat by her Father’s side, attempting to appease his wishes. 

You smirked at the many Lord’s attempts of winning the Princess over, each one rambling on about how strong their family legacy is, and how the coffers of their family homes were full. 

“You’d have an entire castle to yourself…”

A ridiculous statement in your opinion, as if her birthright wasn’t Dragonstone, as if she didn’t already live in the greatest castle in the kingdom.

“We have many rolling hills and plains, perfect for a ride on horseback…”

That comment had you rolling your eyes, internally groaning during the Lord’s speech. Rhaenyra had a literal dragon, rolling hills were of no use to her, he should know that. You certainly did.

“We’d have beautiful children. Your elegance, and my dashing good looks—”

You audibly laughed at that, attempting to stifle it with a cough. 

Getting a closer look at him, you recognized him to be a high born of House Royce, one of Lady Rhea Royce’s cousins. Odd that he was there, as Lady Rhea had passed from an incident just days before, and her funeral preparations were still being handled. It was also especially odd he chose to attend a royal event, since there were whispers around the realm that her death was not entirely an accident, and potentially had something to do with the Rogue Prince, her husband.

The Lord, who’s name for the life of you you could not remember, turned around, glaring at you and the sound of your chuckle.

“Is something funny, Lady…forgive me, I don’t recall your name.”

“That’s quite alright,” you smirked. “I cannot seem to recall yours either. I’m usually quite good at remembering the faces of important men, but yours has escaped me. I do apologize.”

Rhaenyra grinned at your words, the King himself having to turn his head so he wouldn’t be caught chuckling. The Lord looked flustered, stuttering and tripping over his sentences.

“I’ll have you know…well, I…my father, he—”

“That is quite enough, my Lord,” the King interrupted. “I thank you for attending.”

The Lord looked like he wanted to protest, but with one sharp look from Viserys, he backed down. He nodded as he stepped back into the crowd. “I thank you for your time. Good day, Your Grace, Princess…and my Lady.”

As soon as he was out of listening distance, the King burst into laughter. “Lady Y/N, we can’t scare away every potential match. Poor fellow. He wouldn’t last a week around the two of you. I assume we can take him out of the running, Rhaenyra?”

You turned to Rhaenyra, who offered a smile to her father, one that didn’t quite meet her eyes. 

“Yes, Father. If you’ll excuse me, I need some air.”

Before the King could respond, Rhaenyra got up and vanished into the crowd, without taking a guard with her. 

“I don’t think there’s anything I could say to her that would ease her mind,” the King says, bringing your attention away from your thoughts. “She’s so belligerent and stubborn, incredibly headstrong. She gets that from her Mother.” 

You gave him a soft smile. “She’ll come around. She got some of her Mother’s best qualities, too. She’s loyal, wise, and brave. Benevolent. Beautiful. She’ll make a fine Queen. The realm already adores her, many of the Lord’s do as well. She’ll pick the best one, I know it. She just needs the time to see that for herself.”

The King gave you a knowing look, smiling. “She’s lucky to have you. You’re a good friend to her.”

You glanced around the room, unable to spot Rhaenyra. You felt a ball of uneasiness settling in the pit of your stomach, unwilling to budge.

“Thank you, Your Grace, you’re too kind. I’m not quite sure where Rhaenyra went off to. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go fetch her.”

He nodded in approval, and you got up, swiftly moving throughout the tent. Lords and Ladies were gathered in clusters all across the room, servants at their heels. You recognized faces in every corner. 

But none of them were Rhaenyra’s…and none of them were Lord Royce’s. 

You walked outside the tent and looked around urgently until you spotted Ser Harwin Strong, one of the few Lords you trusted and got along with. You rushed over to him, getting his attention.

“Pardon me, Ser Harwin. Have you seen the Princess recently, by any chance? I cannot seem to find her.”

He nodded. “She left on horseback a few minutes ago, through those trees over there.”

You glanced over to the stable where the horses were kept, counting the leads tied to a post. Two spots were empty.

“Did she leave with anyone? All of her guards are still here.”

“Lord Royce left in the same direction shortly after,” he answered, brows furrowed. “Is there something wrong?”

Your stomach dropped at his words, panic filling your chest. You clutched at his forearm, pleading with him. 

“Lord Royce has an animosity against the Princess, and her family. We have offended him today. I believe he has the means to harm her. Gather her guards, and alert the King! Tell him Rhaenyra may be in danger. I’m going after her, please hurry to catch up!”

Before Ser Harwin could get another word out, your body morphed into one of a raven, and you took flight. You soared above the treetops, only looking back to make sure he had run to alert the King. 

Your mind was now only on one thing. Finding Rhaenyra, and keeping her safe.

You flew as fast as you could, maneuvering through the trees as you followed the tracks the horses left behind in the mud. You knew Rhaenyra couldn’t have gone far, she hadn’t been gone more than a few minutes. But the sun was setting, and a few more minutes would mean nightfall, making it that much harder for the Princess to be found.

You finally made it to a clearing that overlooked the cliff, which abruptly dropped and led into the valley. You finally spotted Rhaenyra, who Lord Royce had backed into a corner at the edge of the cliff, where her only options were to submit, or to fall. 

You panicked as you watched her realize she had nowhere to go, the heels of her shoes slipping on the edge as she tried to steady herself. You felt nothing but rage burning in you as you narrowed your path for Lord Royce.

Tucking your wings in tight, you barreled yourself into him, using your claws to rip and scratch at the exposed skin on his arms and chest. He hissed in pain, knocked back by the force of your impact. You continued your attack until his feet fell from under him, and he collapsed to the ground. 

You faintly heard him wheezing and coughing, trying to catch his breath, but you ignored him. You landed, quickly morphing back into your human form.

Meanwhile, Rhaenyra had clawed herself away from the edge, shaking as she feebly fell to her knees. Disoriented, she finally looked up to catch you shifting to your familiar form, and she nearly cried in relief. 

“Princess,” you trembled, anxiously pulling her to her feet. “Rhaenyra.”

You wrapped your arms around her waist, clutching her to you as tightly as you could. You felt her shake against you, masking a sob. You moved a hand up to cup her head, trying your best to soothe her. 

“You’re alright, Rhaenyra. I’ve got you, I promise. I won’t let him hurt you.”

She nodded against you, clutching the back of your dress tight in her fists, when she let out a gasp. You quickly pulled away from her, turning around to see Lord Royce, who was staggering to his feet. 

“Get behind me,” you demanded, gently pushing Rhaenyra behind your arm. She tried to push back, but you held your ground, keeping her at arm’s length. “Trust me.”

You turned back around to face Lord Royce, who was darkly chuckling, wiping away the blood that was trickling down his face.

“The Lady has claws,” he mocked. “Shame you use them to protect her.”

You shook your head. “Return, now. Go now, and your life may be spared. Stay, and your fate is no longer in my hands.”

Lord Royce boisterously laughed, hunching over. “You daft bitch.”

You grumbled, clenching your fist. You felt Rhaenyra close behind you, laying a hand at the base of your back. She began tracing shapes, ones you couldn’t quite make out. Lord Royce took a step forward.

“The King is weak. Incapable of ruling by fear, he can’t even keep his own brother in line. He poses no real threat to me, so tell me, My Lady, why should you? What could you possibly do that would harm me?” 

You faintly listened as you tried to make out what Rhaenyra was drawing on your back. And then it hit you that she wasn’t drawing at all. She was spelling. First a D, then an R…

Lord Royce continued. “Though I suppose the lot of you are all murderous. Do you take after the Rogue Prince, too? No, I doubt that. If a raven is all you can manage, then I should say that your attempts are futile.”

D R A G O N, she traced into your back.

Dragon. You suddenly understood her intentions, reaching behind your back to give her hand a squeeze of reassurance.

“I would have thought a Lady of your standing would find herself in better company–”

“What is it you want,” you interrupted, taking deep breaths to gather your strength. “Must I listen to you drone on, or are we arriving at a point?”

“The Lady of my great house is dead,” Lord Royce narrowed his eyes at you. “So I shall take yours as retribution.”

He reached for the dagger strapped to his waist, and you took your opportunity. You twisted and turned, quickly shifting and shaping into a dragon. The one you had learned to shift into to make Rhaenyra smile, now being used to guard her life. You stood tall, spreading your wings out to their full span, completely blocking Rhaenyra from Lord Royce’s path.

In the distance, you could see a charge of horses, galloping your way. Lord Royce turned to see Ser Harwin, leading the cavalry, as well as the King, not far behind. They were moving quickly, but not quick enough. 

“Dracarys.” You heard Rhaenyra mutter, stepping closer to your side.

“Have it your way,” Lord Royce said, dropping the dagger and drawing his sword. “I’ll die with honor, and I’ll avenge My Lady with my death.”

He raised his sword, charging at you, violently swinging in an arc aimed at both you and Rhaenyra.

“Y/N!” Rhaenyra screamed, no longer advising, but commanding. “Dracarys!”

You felt a rumble in your chest, a burning heat billowing inside you. You narrowed your eyes at Lord Royce, opening your mouth when he was mere feet from you. His eyes were wide, filled with what you couldn’t differentiate between fear and determination. 

With a great roar, you breathed fire, fully engulfing Lord Royce’s stature. 

He screamed, writhing and shaking till he fell to his knees, before disintegrating to ashes on the ground below. You didn’t stop until his corpse was melted into the dirt, now part of the earth.

The King and the guards finally approached, some of the guards cautiously holding up swords as they advanced towards the Princess. 

“Turn over the Princess, now!”

You felt Rhaenyra shift from behind you, stepping out to your side, now visible to everyone. 

“Leave her be,” she commanded, holding a hand out in front of you. “She saved my life.”

“Stand down!” Ser Harwin directed, and his guards withdrew from their positions, sheathing their swords. 

“Y/N,” Rhaenyra murmured, turning to you. “You can come back to me now.”

Slowly, you shifted back into your human form, shakily standing by Rhaenyra’s side. You still had adrenaline running through you, but you were exhausted from expelling that much energy. Not only did it take immense amounts of energy to turn into a creature that large, but to create fire, something you had never tried before, it almost overwhelmed you. 

“Get the Princess back to the tent, now! Fetch her horse,” The King commanded. “Bring Lady Y/N forth, she cannot manage a horse on her own. Ser Harwin, she’ll ride with you.”

“Your Grace,” Ser Harwin nodded, approaching Rhaenyra and you. He wrapped an arm around your waist, guiding you over to his horse. Too tired to protest, you let him. 

Rhaenyra tried to resist, grabbing your hand, but the King called out once more. “Rhaenyra! Now! I will not ask again.”

His voice was booming, and you winced, bringing a hand to clutch at your temple. Ser Harwin eased all of your weight into his side, practically carrying you. 

“It’s alright, Princess,” Ser Harwin reassured. “I’ll keep her safe. I promise you that.”

Rhaenyra reluctantly let go, giving you over. She mounted her horse another guard had brought over, moving to meet her horse in stride with the King’s. 

Ser Harwin guided you to his horse, easily lifting you up and onto the back of it. He climbed up to sit behind you, letting you rest your weight against him. He took hold of the reigns, following  behind the Princess and the King.

“You’re quite strong, Ser,” you said, dazed.

He laughed warmly. “Was that a pun, My Lady?”

“It wasn’t, but I’ll be taking credit for it now,” you smiled, tiredly. You felt safe and comfortable enough around Ser Harwin to joke, that was true enough, but the reality was that you didn’t have much strength to try and meet your usual level of wit.

“You were very brave today,” he muttered, directing the horse towards the tent. “I don’t know many Ladies with the courage or skill to attempt what you did today. The Princess is lucky to have you, and the realm is indebted to you.”

You hummed, closing your eyes as you rested your head against Ser Harwin’s shoulder. He lifted you off the horse, gathering you into his arms. He walked you into the tent, past all of the prying eyes, towards your quarters. 

“I didn’t do it for the realm,” you muttered as Ser Harwin laid you down. You opened your eyes to see him peering down at you, confused. The light of the tent was too bright, and you shut them again, resting your eyes.

You missed the King, entering the room, along with the Princess. Rhaenyra quickly held a finger up to her lips, stopping Ser Harwin from announcing their arrival, so as not to disturb you. The King nodded for Ser Harwin to continue

“My Lady?” He questioned, cautiously looking between you and the King and Princess, unbeknownst to you, as you had now slung an arm over your eyes to block any light from getting in and further aiding in giving you the worst headache you had gotten in recent memory. 

“I am not owed a debt, because I didn’t do it for the realm,” you clarified. “I did it for no one but Rhaenyra. I think it’s clear enough that I would kill for her, as we’ve seen today. I would die for her, as anyone in service of her and the Crown would…as you would, Ser Harwin. But you would kill and die for her, because you swore an oath, and that is your duty. I would kill and die for her, because I live for her. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for her, should she ask it of me. There’s not a death horrible enough in this world that would stop me from saving her. From choosing her to live instead of me, if it ever came to it. She could manage to live without me, I’m sure…but I couldn’t possibly learn to live without her.”

The room was silent as you spoke, Rhaenyra bringing a hand up to her mouth as you spoke to stifle a sob. The King’s eyes softened on your form, still lying in the bed with your arm shielding your eyes.

“Do you want to know the worst of it, Ser Harwin?”

The King looked at you with reverence, before nodding at Ser Harwin to continue the conversation. 

“What is it?”

“I said I would do it for no one but Rhaenyra, but that isn’t entirely truthful. The truth of it is, I’m incredibly selfish…because I would do it for me, too. I can’t bear the thought of losing her, knowing I could have done something to stop it. I’m well aware the Princess can take care of herself, she’s proven that time and time again. But I do take comfort in the fact that people like you are out there everyday, doing your best to make sure she doesn’t have to.”

Ser Harwin smiled, glancing at Rhaenyra, who had a tear rolling down her cheek. The King himself seemed to have tears welling in his eyes. 

“I don’t think any of that is selfish, My Lady. It is far from it, if anything.”

You hummed. “Well, I’m glad you see it that way. The Gods know I don’t get around to praying very much, but when I do, they’re all for her. All of them, for the Princess. Her family, her health, her happiness, her position. Call it selfish if you want, but it’s worth it. Even today, when Lord Royce attacked, and I could see you coming as fast as you could. You wouldn’t have made it in time…and the whole time, I was praying. Praying to the Father that he’d give me the strength to save her, or die trying. Praying to the Mother for the wisdom to figure out how to make it through, just so I could have another day with her…luckily Rhaenyra has enough wisdom for the both of us. I don’t know how I forgot that dragons could breathe fire.”

Ser Harwin laughed, and you chuckled along with him. “Yes, that is very lucky that she remembered, although I suspect you would have managed anyway. Get some rest, My Lady, you’ve had a long day…and I must add, whether you’ll agree with me or not, the realm is lucky to have you by the Princess’s side. We all owe you an unpayable debt.”

“Alright, I concede…thank you for your help today, Ser Harwin. I owe you a debt as well.”

“Nonsense, My Lady. Sleep well,” he bid you, and then he was gone. 

The King and the Princess slipped out along with him, unbeknownst to you. You rolled over, finally letting the exhaustion consume you, and drifted off.

—

You awoke the next morning to a handmaiden, gently shaking you. 

“You must get dressed, My Lady. The King has sent for you.”

You quickly sat up, remembering the events of the previous day. You stood up anxiously as you helped the handmaiden get you presentable, and then stepped out of the tent. Ser Harwin was waiting for you, and he offered you a kind smile. 

He held out his arm for you to take. “The dragon has awoken.”

You playfully scoffed, taking his arm. “I’ll thank you kindly to never say that again.”

He led you to the King’s tent, guiding you inside, before standing guard. You walked through until you reached the King, who was sat on his throne. Rhaenyra sat next to him, an unreadable expression on her face. 

“Your Grace,” you curtsied, turning to Rhaenyra. “Princess.”

“Please, sit,” the King welcomed, and you nodded, walking up the steps to take your place in a chair across from the two of them. 

The King cleared his throat. “Lady Y/N…we heard what you said last night, to Ser Harwin. All of it.”

Your eyes widened, your stomach filling with dread. You averted your eyes from Rhaenyra, unable to look at her from the embarrassment. You directed your attention to the King. 

“Your Grace, I apologize, I truly meant no harm, please excuse–”

The King raised a hand, cutting you off. “There is no need, My Lady. That is not why I have summoned you.”

You raised a brow, settling your shaky hands in your lap. 

“Last night, after talking with the Princess, I wished to thank you. You saved my daughter’s life at the risk of your own, you were as brave as any of her knights could have hoped to be. As Ser Harwin said, the realm owes you an unpayable debt…as do I.”

You had no words to say, your head still spinning, trying to grasp the fact that the King was thanking you, and not banishing you from the kingdom for getting too close to his daughter. You still couldn’t manage to look at Rhaenyra, although you could feel her gaze set on you. 

“I heard all of what you said. The way you speak of my daughter is like none I’ve ever heard before, aside from her Mother. The way you spoke your heart and your devotion to her is all a father could hope for when it comes to his daughters happiness and wellbeing.”

You blushed at his words, not daring to avert your eyes from his.

“As I’m sure you know, the main purpose of this week was to groom Rhaenyra for command. She is to be Queen one day, and she’ll need a suitor by her side to do so. As you’ve seen, there is an endless list of suitors who wish for her hand, although none that would live up to your standards, as you made clear with Lord Royce.”

You let out a breath, chuckling. The King smiled, holding his hand out for yours. You cautiously took it. 

“It is clear to me now, that the Lords will never be enough for my daughter, or a fraction of what she deserves, which is partially why I left it up to her to make a decision. It seems, however…that she has chosen you.”

Your eyes widened, and you finally looked over to meet Rhaenyra’s gaze. Her eyes were full of adoration, brimming with tears. 

“I pick you.”

You felt your eyes sting, the tears threatening to fall. The King squeezed your hand, directing your attention back to him. 

“I know you are well aware of Rhaenyra’s duties as Princess. She must marry, and she must bear children.”

You nodded, feeling your chest tighten. “Yes, Your Grace. I understand.”

He continued. “I thought the time had come upon us, but after yesterday, I am not so sure. I see how happy you make my daughter. She lights up around you, smiles as bright as the day she last saw her Mother. I had thought that part of my daughter was gone forever…but you’ve brought her back to me. I know of all you have done for her, and I have seen all that you’re willing to sacrifice. I can think of no better person suited for my Rhaenyra.”

You felt Rhaenyra take your other hand in yours, and you stifled a sob. You gave it a squeeze, before turning back to the King.

“Tell her, Father.” Rhaenyra’s voice was light, a welcome lift off your heavy heart.

“You know her duties. One day, she must marry, and bear children. Her claim to the throne is already unstable as it is, I cannot allow for any more uncertainty. Her virtue and claim must remain untainted in the eyes of the realm, her position is dependent on it. So, one day, she will marry, and we have discussed a potential match for the future. I’ll spare you the details and let my daughter explain later, should she see fit.”

You anxiously nodded, eager for him to get to the point. 

“But for now, my dear…I see no reason as to why I shouldn’t allow my daughter to be with the person who makes her happiest. I had already taken a liking to you, as I’m sure you have figured out for yourself. However, yesterday opened my eyes. Your actions, and the passion with which you spoke to Ser Harwin, I would be a fool to not see it. There is no one I trust more to keep my daughter happy and safe. As far as I am concerned, you are now family. My daughter is yours, and you are hers, for as long as we can allow. Any threats to you, are hereby extension threats to the Crown. Although, as we’ve all witnessed yesterday, I’m sure you’ll sort them out yourself with ease.”

You couldn’t stop the tears from spilling over as you laughed with joy, finally directing your attention to Rhaenyra. She brought a hand up to cup your face, similar to the way you had done to her just a few nights ago, but now it carried no sadness. Only joy. 

“My love.” She whispered, caressing your face.

“My Princess.” You held your hand over hers, cupping it to your cheek. It was warm. “My Rhaenyra.”

The King smiled, excusing himself, before walking out of the tent. The second he was gone, Rhaenyra threw her arms around your neck, holding you tight. You wrapped your arms around her waist, holding her impossibly tighter. 

“I love you,” she murmured into your shoulder. “I love you, I love you, I love you. I’ll never be tired of getting to say that to you. And I’ll never be able to thank you enough for letting me love you.”

You felt a tear of hers land on your shoulder, and you swallowed your emotion, willing yourself to let go. You moved to hold her face, wiping away the tears from her cheeks. 

“I love you. Gods, there aren’t enough words to be able to tell you how much.”

You brought her back into your arms, not willingly to let her go. Although, now, you supposed, you didn’t have to. She was yours to hold, yours to love, for as long as she would have you. And that was more than either of you could ever have hoped for. 

—

A/N - Hi! I’m sorry this got so long, I hope you liked it. I hope to do another part. Also, I’m sorry to everyone who has requests with me, it’s taking me so long to do them, but I promise I’ll get to them. 

[princematcha]

(till i) run with you

bakugou katsuki x fem!reader

contains: rdr gets called ‘girl’ once, no real gendered terms or pronouns other than that, rdr does wear a dress, mostly sfw save for some cussing and nsfw related jokes, drug mentions (mary wanna) and alcohol mentions(and usage??), everyone’s bi including rdr, rdr is in grad school and bkg has graduated, not edited 

a/n: sorry i listened to too many 60′s and 70′s songs and started thinking abt a band au, let’s say xmen days of future past au because i wanted to keep mina pink

wc: 2369 words

Smoke billows out of your mouth as you stare off toward the pretty girl on the drums. Big pink curls held back by a black and white gingham hair band, hazy spotlight shining on her giving a halo. Sweat drips down the side of her forehead when she hits the hi-hat, you can see her arms flexing through her loose bell sleeves from across the bar.

She spins a drumstick on one of her pink knuckles, yellow irises flashing up to you with a wink. Normally you’d feel a touch embarrassed to get caught staring. You recognize most of the group from campus, anyone’s eye would get attracted to something nice to look at in class. Quickly looking away if any of them accidentally looked in your direction. But tonight you ash your joint in the tray on the tacky bartop next to you, smiling at her. You’ll have to thank Camie for the smoke-flavored courage.

Camie dances closer to the stage, her silk green slip dress swaying and rising along with her arms. A tactical, well-thought-out move. She told you she was trying to take one of the band members home tonight, “any one of ‘em will do, if I can get more though…” she winked before you left her dorm earlier. You think she probably has the blond guy on keys in her pocket. You should probably call dibs before she gets the girl too. 

As the orange embers creep closer to your fingers, you put out the roach and go back to watching the band. Looking at the stage is like peering through calcium-stained glass, a warm combination of smoke and the old spotlights from the theatre next door makes the whole room hot. 

The redhead looks like he’s putting his whole soul into the guitar, dark eyebrows furrowed and eyes squeezed shut. His sweat-soaked white button-up does nothing to hide the finely cut body beneath it. The greek god of a man, some textbook you read last week probably contained a sculpture resembling this holy display. Suspenders straining over his broad shoulders. Is it legal for an entire group to be this foxy?

Camie’s boy hasn’t stopped making eyes at her ever since she grooved her way to the front. A real pretty boy, you could see your hands running through his golden hair, see if that black zig-zag over the side was natural. You’ll see if Camie’s in a sharing mood tonight. Though you’re not sure if you are, you sure do love the drums.

Your eyes trail behind the greek god and land on the bass player. You’re not sure how you missed him, though the sticky sweet of Gimlet in your throat answers that for you. Bright, deep red eyes burn in your direction. Is he looking at you? Nah, you glance towards the top shelf bourbon and whiskey behind you, sweaty man probably wants a stiff one. 

And it might be the gin speaking for you, but it almost looked like he smirked when you met his eye. With the mean look and scrunched bridge, he also could’ve had an itchy nose.

Sweaty, but still– pretty. You didn’t think you could say pretty so many times in a song, but tonight’s full of firsts. Big calloused hands pluck at the strings of the bass, muscles flexing with every move. You’ve never seen a man look so beautiful in a tight orange sweater-tee, showing off a slim waist tapered into black slacks. 

Pink hair winked at you first though, and you’re a sucker for a drummer. 

(Unless there’s a compelling offer.)

When their set is over, Camie is quick to lay game down hard and sweet on the pretty boy from the keys. Denki, she purred to you as she passed, her hand squeezing your thigh before leading him to the end of the bar. Denki’s eyes glued to her the whole way down. 

You watch as the girl heaves a large case with ease on top of one of the speakers, deciding now is a good chance to talk her up.

“What are ya drinkin?”

The sudden gruff voice next to your ear makes you jump, slipping straight off of the bar stool. You look to the side and the bassist is sitting on the rickety, rust-colored stool next to yours. And he dwarfs the seat in a way that makes it look a bit too small for him. It’s much darker on this side of the venue, not to mention he looked much smaller on that stage. Almost intimidating when he’s right in front of you.

He leans towards you, eyes like a lion circling- side of his mouth twitching when you move your head away from him but your feet force you to stand your ground, “Know what you’re smokin,” he chuckles, low and rumbly, “Good grass from what I can tell.”

You scoot back onto your stool, looking for any sense of composing yourself even as you can feel him picking you apart in his mind. You smile and hold his eye contact as you grab your glass, wet from condensation, and swallow the rest of the drink. “Nothing anymore,” you remark. You slip some green under the cup and turn back around to see if you can chase, but something is pinching the back of your white dress. 

You squint at him, “Let go, bass boy.”

He turns his head to the side, “Bakugou.”

“Excuse me?”

“Let go, Bakugou.” He says.

The name Bakugou does something for you. What was it? The disk jockey places a new record on the player as your brain flickers through the files that hold Bakugou.

He looks you up and down with little decorum as your thoughts stall, grinning when recognition snaps into place in your eyes.

First year of uni. Teacher’s assistant that everyone had a crush on. Mean as all hell, but a gift straight from God’s ass as a tutor.

The first time you got something below a B in your statistics course, you stared at his beat-up loafers while asking what days he has free TA hours because you were terrified to look him in the eyes. 

You turn to him fully and he releases you, waiting to see how you respond. 

“Bakugou?” You stare at him and he flicks his gaze over your face, “What the fuck?”

It’s been almost five years— still the hot TA in your mind though. Sitting in study rooms while he nudged you for the next question and you steeling your will to pretend he wasn’t the prettiest man you’ve ever seen. That’s fresh in your mind as well. Still true. 

God, he’s fuckin fit. 

“You kiss your mother with that mouth?” 

You move to snap at him, but falter when he takes your glass and tilts his head back to take one of the ice cubes. Watching as he swirls it over his tongue, then crunches it in his molars. 

“Ah,” Bakugou grunts, “Look who’s drinking hard spirits like a big girl.”

You find yourself sitting on the stool before you know it. 

(You’re too focused on the bartender stirring your drink with precision to see the drummer walk by with a wink to Bakugou and a brunette on her arm. He’s blushing when you glance back at him.)

You laugh as you press your temple to your palm, elbow sticking to the counter, almost empty drink in your hand. You don’t remember Bakugou being quite the conversationalist, but you have no complaints now. 

“How did you even recognize me?” You gesture to yourself, ice cubes swirling in the glass, “And then why would you come over, I don’t think I was that interesting to tutor— unless I was your worst student. Don’t answer that.”

He snorts at that, grabbing your drink out of your hand and placing it back on the wood, “Don’t sell yourself short.” Bakugou nods to the now empty stage, “And you weren't my worst, fuckin idiot on keys was hell on wheels to teach.”

You snicker and point loosely to distant corners of the bar, “I swear some other alums you tutored were here too.” 

You look over at him again, but he’s already facing you. Eyes on yours, but not in that burning, fiery way like earlier. It’s just warm now, something to swirl and get lost in. You find yourself leaning towards him but you swear it’s not because of him. You’re just a little tipsy, you think. Bakugou presses towards you as well, at the same slow drifting pace of the music. 

You stop when his knee hits the plastic leather of your stool, his figure nearly looming over yours. 

“Maybe I came over-”

“Because I never gave you back that watch?”

“—because someone wouldn’t stop eyefucking my band.”

You fling back like a rubber band when he whispers, spine straight as a rod. He smiles at your expression, a mean glint in his eye. 

“I absolutely was not.”

“Really?” He asks. You were never much of a liar. 

But there’s no point in not trying. “Really.” 

“So you weren’t hitting on Mina?” You stare at him so he tries again, “My drummer.”

You blink at him for a second before turning around and taking in the people you could see around the place, “Oh my god the drummer.”

He made you lose the drummer. Bakugou cackles like a hyena at your despair. 

(He buys you a basket of fries at the diner next door as an apology. Though he does eat half of them which lessened the sentiment in your opinion.)

You stare at the concrete of the paved paths weaving through the campus as you and Bakugou walk side by side back to the dorms. It’s quiet and shiny with early morning dew as you make your way back. 

He told you that he was walking you back to the dorms while you were hopping down the steps of the diner. You had no real complaints, you had a feeling that you might’ve woken up next to the university mascot’s statue if he didn’t accompany you. 

Though now you’re not sure how to feel. The warmth radiating off of your cheeks and the man next to you makes you feel like you just finished a nice date. But that wasn’t a date. That was just- That was-

It was two old fri- Hm. Acquaintances? Associates? Teacher and student? That one makes you feel off. Teacher’s assistant and pal. You cringe. Pal?

Rattling off different ways in your head to define your relationship with Bakugou, you don’t notice him slowing down near your dorm building. He clears his throat when you’re a few feet ahead of him. 

“Oh!” You turn. 

You stare at him as he stands under the streetlamp in front of the dorms. The background seems to crumble away the longer you take him in. The soft light blond of his hair looks heavenly at this time between night and day. Cold air nipping at his cheeks. He looks heavenly in this time between night and day. 

You’re not bold or sober enough to invite him up. 

So you guess this is goodbye for now. 

“So-”

“Breakfast tomorrow.” Bakugou pushes the words out of his mouth like they are boiling on his tongue. 

“What?” You rub your eyes to see if that will help you hear words that have already been said. 

“Hell. What day is it now? Today? Tomorrow? I don’t fuckin know when. As soon as possible.”

You’re not sure but you love whatever day today is.  

“I just,” you watch as he rocks from foot to foot, hands in his pockets. You never thought you’d see a nervous Bakugou. “It’s been a while and I-” He starts walking over and stops right in front of you. You’re too busy taking in the sight to even think of moving. “I just gotta see you again. If you’re okay with that. If you want.”

Something roils over in your stomach mixed with confusion. He’s gotta see you again?

If you were sober, you’d see the precious, delicate moment in your hands. A version of Bakugou you only ever got glimpses of when nights got a little too late in the library, when he came over to your dorm and you made him his favorite tea, keeping company and telling stories from your classes while he graded assignments. If you were sober you’d see the glimpse become a moment, enveloping the man as he is. 

But you aren’t. 

“Are you sweet on me?” You crinkle your nose and wag a finger at him. 

Bakugou is perplexed, with a hint of bewilderment. “Am I sweet on you? Are you- What! What else would I- A whole year of- How did you lose more of that brain the longer you were in school?”

You were too lost in how he interrupted himself several times, “What?”

“Yes,” He grits out, “I am.” Bakugou turns you around and starts pushing you toward your dormitory’s front door. 

“And I am going to be here in the morning to remind you because you’re drunk. And you’re not gonna remember a goddamn word I say, so listen to me when I say:”

He stops you abruptly and spins you around, hands warm on your shoulders, “If you say yes, I am taking you out and you’re going to fall the fuck in love with me and I am going to occupy all the empty spaces in your mind to make up for the years you put me through.”

You blink up at him. 

Bakugou grabs the key ring out of your hands, reaches behind you, opens the door, and walks you backwards inside. Placing the key ring back into your hand, he walks back to the door and gives you one look before he closes it, “It’s only fair.”

(He was right and you did wake up with very little memory of the night before. Breakfast with him was amazing though, good god the man can cook. So sweet of him to offer. You spilt hot coffee on your lap when he asked you to get dinner with him while he washed the dishes. You said yes.)

[rust-bearer]

I don’t know how to tl;dr this but I guess it falls into the First Aid being accepted as One Of Them category? I dunno, they’re on my mind now but anyway. You know when you like walk into a room or walk into work or something and specific people you get to know/like are like “heyyyy [name]!” Or “Good morning/afternoon [name]!” Because that’s what I’m going for.

Onslaught secretly really likes First Aid but is not about to let that information slip. Every time he sees First Aid or catches his gaze/makes eye contact he says hi or something. Every time. Follows it up with “I think we need…” or “The kids want you to…” to keep things discreet but like, you can tell. You can tell he’s fond.

Brawl is probably a little less standoffish about the whole situation. I mean, they all live under the same roof now, right? Starts out calling First Aid doc because he can’t for the life of him remember Aid’s name, ends up using the nickname as an affectionate and endearing term. Every time First Aid walks into the kitchen for a snack or stumbles into the hallway after a long night of restless sleep, Brawl greets him without fail. There’s a smile, small nod of the head, a “morning, doc” or a “hey, doc” depending on the time.

Blast Off definitely takes some warming up to do, but after a good six weeks of sharing the same space, he starts getting a little adventurous. At first, it’s just strained smiles every time they pass each other going in opposite directions, and Blast Off usually doesn’t go out of his way to say anything to First Aid if they aren’t standing directly in front of each other. Give it a few more weeks and the forced smiles become more relaxed, sometimes he even slips in a “hey” or a “good morning” here and there. You can tell he sort of likes First Aid, but it’s like dealing with a wild animal—you just can’t figure out who’s supposed to be the animal and who’s the human.

I don’t think Vortex even needs an explanation. Really, there IS no avoiding him, so good luck. First Aid isn’t running into Vortex in the middle of the kitchen after struggling to stay awake long enough to brew some coffee. Vortex is the one sitting on the edge of the mattress or sitting on the floor next to him or perched on the coffee table across from the couch. Either way, he’s THERE and he’s AWAKE and he’s like hell yeah, my favorite person in the whole world is also awake! Doesn’t bother with greetings half the time, just goes into some full-fledged conversation about god knows what. There is no predicting just what might come out of his mouth on any given day, you just gotta roll with it. Really, the best he’s ever done is “Hey, Aid, I was thinking…” but even that’s a stretch.

I think Swindle’s sort of a funny one because he could be throwing pots into the sink and storming around the kitchen, RBF in full swing, and suddenly First Aid appears in the room and he’s like “heyyy!! There’s our medic! 😊” and it’s kind of bizarre. Vortex is fond of calling him out on it, mostly to complain that Swindle is NEVER that nice to him in the mornings, but Swindle just snaps at him for the umpteenth time and Vortex goes back to sulking over it. Well, sort of. The sulking lasts all of three seconds. All to say Swindle can be a really nasty housemate in the mornings but he is not about to take it out on poor First Aid. Nah, that’s only reserved for Vortex his siblings.

I tried to make these sooort of equal in length and effort but I feel like Onslaught lost in that regard. I mean, he was the first one I did, but like… eh, I dunno. I’m sure he’ll come to terms with it.

—@robot-zombies

Digs this out before I forget. I feel like talking abt swindle now so we will talk about him vs Vortex re: first aid

Swindle understands the value in having a doctor. Sure, first aid was a pediatric doctor, and mostly dealt with hospital based patients, not even outpatient family practice stuff, but… he’s skilled. And he’s a doctor. So Swindle plays nice, acts nice, leans in to the charisma and the disarming charm to make First Aid ‘feel safe’. To keep him around. And First Aid isn’t stupid, he knows Swindle is putting on some amount of an act, but he doesn’t know the sheer depth of it. Swindle really purely sees First Aid as an investment, a client he has to keep no matter what, so he puts on his big boy pants and works AROUND what his brothers say and do, to make First Aid stay.

But the flattery and the kindness and all that stuff, it doesn’t matter. First Aid doesn’t care, and doesn’t like it at all, especially when it’s insincere. It makes him (rightly so) feel like a prime supermarket meat. No, what First Aid actually likes is- Vortex.

And it’s weird! Vortex is weird! He’s creepy at times, then entirely earnest. Honest. He says things that First Aid sometimes thinks in the back of his mind. Then he says things First Aid recoils at. And yet, it’s Vortex that First Aid is closest to, and cares most for, and trusts most. When Vortex decides to spend an hour manually crushing fruit to make juice, because he heard First Aid mention it, that’s because Vortex likes First Aid. And it’s a hassle and he moans the entire time, but then he slams the glass down and grins and has the stupidest shit eating expression.

When Swindle does the same thing, it’s artificial. And that’s not a bad thing; he isn’t being cruel, he doesn’t secretly hate First Aid, he just… doesn’t really feel strongly about him, on a personal level. But he knows on a survival level that they deeply need First Aid, so he will smile and juice some fruit, and offer it to First Aid with some deflection of, “I was making some too and figured you’d want some.” And First Aid will accept but he Knows.

He’d like Swindle more if he just stopped with.. All of that. And eventually he will.

[cutekittenlady]

I've been idly turning over Eelektross AU in my head like a mug in a microwave, and I had a couple thoughts- Eelektross is nominally Emmet's Ace and mostly commonly depicted partner Pokemon, so as Eelektross hangs out around Ingo more, the familiarity of his brother's Ace may start triggering some memories. What this means for Ingo and his mental state is anybody's game. Eelektross being a weird hovering wet noodle dog that wanders around and likes to watch people and keeps respectful, polite distance from humans and Pokemon alike, except for Ingo who gets draped on and snuggled and sucker smooched the moment he returns into sight. The various Wardens and townsfolk have Opinions about the weird cuddly noodle.

Ohh I hadn't considered how Eelektross's presence might have an effect on Ingo mentally, and not just in regards to his memories.

As you've pointed out, Eelektross behaves very much like a very loyal, very affectionate dog towards Ingo. I imagine he acts in a similar way to Emmet as well. This is both a blessing, as its difficult to see him as a fullblown monster when hes draped over Ingo's shoulders and taking a nap like a scarf, but at the same time he'd also be VERY protective of Ingo and has known him longer than any other person or pokemon in Hisui. So he's likely to notice things about Ingo that others dont. Chasing them away when Ingo is clearly getting overwhelmed just like he did for Emmet when they were kids.

This could make opinions on him very very divisive. On the one hand his obvious affection for Ingo has the edge of changing people's attitudes towards not only pokemon, but pokemon who don't emote the same way humans do. It's easy to tell when a Pikachu or Eevee are happy, but what about Tangrowth? Or other species without obviously readable faces?

Plus Eelektross is used to working with the public and, once all the hub-bub about him being seen as a monster dies down a bit and he gets a little more comfortable around the humans here again, he is amazingly well behaved, kind to children, and even helpful.

On the other hand, the fact that Eelektross CAN still get aggressive if Ingo is made upset and the signs that Eelektross's presence is having some kind of mental strain on him, could still make the most observant and careful amongst them worry.

I could easily see Irida being worried to hell and back as to whether or not Eelektross is a good thing for Ingo to have around or not. On the one hand, Ingo is recalling way more things about himself more frequently and is opening up a lot more. But on the other the moments where he seems to just lose himself and go off into a trance have become much more frequent as well. As have moment of discontent. The incresing feeling that there is something missing and that he isn't full.

Gaeric I could see being the most wary, always trying to ensure he's in the village when Ingo is there on the off chance something happens with Eelektross and he can intervene. Gaeric comes off to me as a man set in his ways, and Eelektross, as a pokemon never seen in Hisui and completely unmentioned in any of the diamond or pearl clans legends or writings, would be an anomaly he could never fully let his guard down around.

It likely wouldn't help that once Ingo DOES manage to remember his brother I can see him having a full on catatonic meltdown that lasts for a week. His pokemon having to make sure his taken care of, fed, and sheltered. Eventually he emerges no worse for wear, but still, its a terrifying moment all the same.

[rosenallies]

could we have the prequel to the drag racer au aftercare 🙈

im sorry I kept this in my inbox for so long when I said I would write it but low-key writing smut is hard asf for me with more than two ppl to focus on and I feel like it never comes out right so I just try my best 😭

----

"Oh what an interesting sight I have here," Sasha chuckled to herself as she entered the bedroom, feigning surprise to find Anetra laid on her back, wrists and ankles tied to the bed posts and Marcia face buried in a pillow with their pretty bottom up in the air as if she hadn't knowingly put them in those positions.

She traced a tiny heart on Marcia's ass, sending shivers down their spine. "So pretty, darling, it's too bad neither of you behaved while mommy was at work. Do you have anything to say for yourselves? Netra, how about you?"

Anetra tugged lightly on her restraints, whining when they didn't budge. "I'm sorry, mommy, I didn't mean to!"

Sasha hummed. "Oh, you didn't mean to? I suppose you what? Fell face first into Marcia's pussy on accident?"

Marcia stifled a laugh, silencing when Sasha landed one warning spank to her ass to shut them up.

"Now, I'm not an unreasonable person, I don't have many rules for you to follow, but touching each other without me or my permission," she tutted disapprovingly, "is one of those rules. Sue me for wanting to know what my babies are up to. Now, here's what's going to happen, I know sometimes mistakes are made so take this as your warning punishment. I've chosen things you both can handle, but like I said, this is your warning, next time mommy might not be so kind. Do you understand?"

"Yes, mommy," they both said in unison, earning them a smile from Sasha.

"Good job, now lets get started."

With skilled fingers, Sasha tied a vibrator to Anetra's thigh, the pulsing just barely making her shiver. It wasn't enough to feel any direct pleasure, but enough to make her squirm and whine, tummy aching with the need for pleasure.

"Now, Neech, you've earned yourself some edging. I have a remote right here and while I give Marc the spanking they deserve, I'm gonna turn this up and down. You must stay still and quiet, got it? If I have to stop what I'm doing to reprimand you, you're not cumming at all."

Anetra wanted to whine and complain, but she kept it in, nodding in agreement.

"Good. Your turn, Marc. I'm sure you heard about your spanking?"

Marcia nodded into the pillow, mumbling a quiet 'yes'.

If Sasha wanted to be mean, she'd pull them up by their hair and make them repeat it. 'Yes, mommy' as the only acceptable response, but Sasha was feeling generous and let it be, the pink painted wooden paddle in her hand a harsh enough punishment.

"Good, you're gonna count for me, okay? Lose count and I start over."

She started off soft, no harder than a gentle swat with her hand, and Marcia counted each one diligently.

"One.."

"Two..."

"Three...."

While Sasha continued to spank Marcia, she also played with the settings of Anetra's vibrator, smirking at each little whimper and whine she let out as she messed with the settings, high and then low, higher and then nearly completely off.

By the time she got up to 15 spanks, tears pooled in Marcia's eyes and Anetra was nearly sobbing, begging for mercy.

"Oh are my babies just about done with your punishment?"

"Please," Anetra cried.

Sasha laughed and turned the vibrator all the way up, leaving Anetra's legs shaking.

"5 more spanks for Marcia and both of you will be finished. Neech, do not cum, do you hear me? If you do, you will not cum for a week."

The thought made Anetra whine, but she had to put all her focus on not cumming and making a mess on the clean bedsheets.

"Where were we, now?" She cooed, landing a harsh spank on Marcia's ass.

"Sixteen," Marcia moaned.

Sasha landed another hit, this time harder than the last.

"Seventeen."

"Three more, love, you're doing great."

"Eighteen," Marcia cried, voice strained.

"Ninete-ah!"

"Oh let's try that again, I couldn't hear you."

"Nineteen!' Marcia all but yelled on impact.

"And twenty!"

As she finished counting, Marcia collapsed in a heap of sobs and Sasha turned off Anetra's vibe, the younger girl sighing in what sounded like slight relief.

She put a soothing hand on Marcia's bottom and squeezed Anetra's hand. "You both did so so well, I'm so proud of you both," Sasha smirked. "Not let's get to your rewards, my loves."

[wordsmithwhumpsandfluff]

Not sure if this is your thing but could you do an El gets a really bad period that makes her very sick with lots of care from Jordan 🥹❤️

Thank you for this request, anon!! I love this one!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It didn’t surprise Jordan to see her girlfriend’s shoes placed beside her door. Eliana stayed with her so often that she practically already lived with her.

“Hey, babe,” Jordan called from the entryway as she took off her own shoes and set her car keys on the table by the door. “You’ll never believe what happened at my lecture today.” She started towards the living room. “I swear, it was like something straight out of Gilmore Girls. So these three guys came busting in during the lecture, wearing medieval knight costumes and shouting this girl’s—” Jordan stopped talking the second she saw her girlfriend curled up on the couch, squeezing her stomach. Her face was red and blotchy and she was crying.

Immediately, Jordan’s smile fell. She ran over and crouched in front of Eliana. “El, baby, what’s wrong?” she cupped her face, stoking Eliana’s cheek with her thumb. “Why are you crying?”

Eliana sucked in a trembling breath, her face full of pain. “Period,” she mumbled in a teary, quiet voice. “Jor, it hurts so freaking much.”

Jordan sighed, nodding. She understood well how horrible Eliana’s periods could get. Jordan was relatively lucky with her periods because she got minimal cramps and they didn’t last long, but Eliana’s lasted up to a whole week and her cramps were awful.

“It’s okay, El,” Jordan soothed, running a hand over her girlfriend’s lavender hair. “It’s okay. Have you taken any meds?”

She shook her head.

“Have you thrown up?”

She shook her head again, and sniffed, “I will though. I feel sick.”

Jordan nodded. “Okay. Well, I’m gonna grab you some meds and the heating pad.”

“Meds won’t stay down.” Eliana closed her eyes, another tear falling and Jordan wiped it away.

“I know, but take them anyway. They might help.”

Eyes shut and face screwed in pain, Eliana nodded and Jordan stood up, jogging to the master bedroom and going into her bathroom. In the drawer where she kept her tampons and pads, there was also a little box of cramp meds. She took a couple of pills from the foil casing and went back, stopping in her fancy kitchen to grab a glass of water.

She went back to Eliana, and sat on the edge of the couch. “Sit up, baby, you have to take the meds.”

Eliana opened her eyes that were still wet with tears and sat up. Immediately, a cramp hit her with the movement and she gasped, curling up so much that her forehead touched her knees. “Ow,” she whined in a strained voice and Jordan set the pills and water down on her living room table, pulling Eliana into her arms, rubbing her back.

“Shhh, it’s okay,” she soothed. “Just breathe. It’ll ease up, just give it a minute.”

A minute passed. Then another before Eliana could uncurl. She’d started crying again while curled up and her eyes were red and pouring tears. “I hate this,” she groaned, using her shirt to dry off the tears. “This sucks.”

Jordan hummed in agreement, grabbing the meds and the water. “Here,” she said, holding the pills up to Eliana.

Eliana popped the medicine in her mouth and then let Jordan hold the glass up to her mouth. When Jordan took the glass away and she swallowed, the meds and water hit her stomach like a brick and she immediately paled, sweat running down her back. She knew what was about to happen.

“Jor?” she muttered to her girlfriend who was now walking away to grab their heating blanket.

Jordan stopped, looking back at Eliana. “Yeah?”

Eliana said nothing at first, swallowing as her mouth flooded with saliva. “Fuck,” she then cursed, jumping up from the couch and running to the guest bathroom since it was closer. She didn’t bother shutting the door, just running in and collapsing, thrusting the lid open. The water came back up, now looking yellow and bringing with it chunks from the McDonalds pancakes she had for breakfast. Her period hit around noon, so she hadn’t had lunch.

Jordan came into the bathroom and Eliana felt her girlfriend lift her hair and fasten it into a clip.

Groaning, Eliana let her forehead rest on the porcelain seat. She was trying to take deep breaths, and Jordan was rubbing her back.

“Are you empty, El?”

Jordan got her answer when Eliana lurched with another violent heave before more liquid splashed in the bowl. Some chunks got stuck in her throat and Eliana coughed, trying to get them out.

“Baby, just breathe, you’re—”

Eliana coughed until her gag reflex was triggered and another large stream came up, slow and painful and leaving her panting for air. The smell was awful and a little sweet, and she gagged even though she was likely completely empty now. Though it didn’t feel like it, she had to be after puking so much. Right?

Jordan began wiping Eliana’s mouth with a yet wad of toilet paper before dropping the toilet paper into the mess and flushing it down.

Eliana moved back, slumping against the wall, chest heaving. “I hate being a girl,” she declared. “This is the worst!”

Jordan smiled a little sympathetically. “Are you done?”

The poor purple-haired girl nodded pitifully.

“Okay. We’ll try meds again later. I’ll get the heating pad and we can cuddle and watch TV. Sound good?”

Another nod.

It took a little while for them to get to the couch. As soon as Jordan helped Eliana up, the poor girl’s face went three shades paler and she spent five minutes gagging dryly over the sink. Jordan fanned her face with her hand and stayed with Eliana while she splashed water on her face and rinsed her mouth. Then Jordan kept an arm around her girlfriend’s waist as they made their way back to the living room.

Eliana put on Greys Anatomy which they had started watching together after New Year’s Day when Eliana had said she had never watched it and Jordan and Keiko began to rant about how it was their favorite show since they were in high school. Eliana had to admit, she was a little obsessed with it and she was only in the second season.

Jordan got the heating pad and turned it on, handing it to Eliana. As soon as Jordan sat down, Eliana wrapped her arms around her girlfriend’s neck, her legs going over Jordan’s lap and cuddling close.

Jordan couldn’t help but smile. The heating pad on Eliana’s stomach was warm against her side, and she relaxed against the couch.

She was tracing shapes on Eliana’s back with her finger for a while before she smiled and giggled a little. Surprised by the sudden laughter since neither of them had said anything and nothing funny had happened in the show, Eliana pulled back enough to look at her and ask, “Why are you laughing?”

Jordan’s face had it’s usual brightness on. “You said you hate being a girl,” she grinned.

Eliana pouted. “So?”

Jordan laughed a little more. “I just pictured the gender-bent version of you.”

Eliana’s eyes widened. She couldn’t help but smile a little at her girlfriend’s reason for her goofy smile. “Yeah? And how do I look? Abs?”

Jordan shook her head. “No, no abs. But you still have your ass. And your hair is short but just long enough to pull into a manbun.” Still smiling, she leaned in and kissed Eliana on the cheek. “But gender-bent you isn’t half as hot and adorable as the real you. Personally, I love that you’re a girl.”

Eliana felt warmth burst in her chest and her smile widened, her cheeks becoming hot. “Yeah?”

Jordan nodded and kissed her. “Yeah,” she said, bumping their noses together. “You’re the best girl in the whole damn world.”

[megslovesbooks]

WIP Wednesday

thanks @messyhairdiaz, @sibylsleaves, @spotsandsocks and @elvensorceress my beloveds!

I wont tag anyone because its officially Thursday here now.

I'm cheating this week because not only is it not Wednesday anymore here, this is also not a wip, I just posted it. But it was a wip this afternoon?? I dunno. lol!

Was feeling crummy today so decided to make Eddie feel even worse, have some Whumptober no. 13 'Hyperthermia' as the latest chapter in my odd little h/c collection.

read on ao3

The thing is, Eddie knows better.

He was a medic in the middle of the desert for Christ's sake. He’s been trained on what to watch for both by the army medical corp and the LAFD, heat stroke is no joke and the last thing he ever wants to do is put a patient or his teammates in danger because he’s been ignoring his own body. He’s more careful than that.

It's just–he hadn’t noticed, truly he hadn’t, or at least he’d just thought it was normal on the job overheating. Nothing he couldn’t solve with a bottle of water or two and a cool shower back at the station. Yes he’s been feeling overly warm today, its August in Los Angeles, its fucking boiling. And sure, his arms have been cramping a little, but he and Buck have also been hanging off this glass and steel building for nearly 45 minutes while they try to secure the window washer’s rig that had gone rogue and smashed into the plate glass windows of the boardroom mid meeting. Rope rescues always put a lot of strain on your arms and he’s not as young as he used to be (something Buck, an infuriating 5 years younger, is so quick to remind him). But now, as his vision blurs out for the second time in as many minutes, Eddie is starting to worry he might be in a little bit of trouble. Right on cue Buck glances over at him and raises an eyebrow.

“Hey.” He says, squinting against the glare of the mid-afternoon sun reflecting off the tinted glass that seems to stretch around them for miles. “You ok? You’re looking really flushed.”

So here’s where Eddie makes his first real mistake. Because he should probably just tell Buck he’s not feeling great, that his stomach has started to roil uncomfortably and he can feel his heart rate picking up. But they’re so close to being finished. The window washer with the broken arm has already been whisked away to the ambulance, the remaining board members trapped between the ruined scaffolding sticking halfway out of their office have been evacuated, and he and Buck only have three or four more points to tie off before the rest of the metal pipe and wooden slats of the rig can be safely removed. Ten minutes–tops–until he’s back on solid ground, or at least solid rooftop. So instead he just tries to make a reassuring face and says,

“I’m fine, just ready to be out of this sun.” He has to stop there and clamp down because his gut is clenching painfully and sour acid is creeping up the back of his throat. He focuses instead on the rig in front of him, trying to get his clumsy fingers to clip the final ropes in place, checking the soundness of the connection while Buck, who is still looking at him with a frown etching itself deeper and deeper between his eyebrows, radios up to tell Bobby they’re almost done.

Just a few more minutes, he tells himself, just a little longer–

“Eddie.” Buck says, and the sharp edge of his tone makes Eddie think maybe it's not the first time he’s said it. “Cap needs a verbal response.” Oh. Right.

“Copy.” He says, keying his radio, “Diaz here, good to go.” God is he ever.

It feels like it takes an age to get back to the top of the building, by the time the top ledge is in sight Eddie knows it's no longer a question of if he’s going to throw up, but when.

It's here he makes his second, and arguably biggest mistake. The top lip of the roof projects out eight or so inches so it takes a bit of effort to pull one’s body out and over the edge. He should wait for help, be sure the extra slack is out of his rope then let the others hoist him up onto steady ground. But he’s starting to feel a little frantic, he really doesn't want to vomit while he’s still hanging off the side of a building, so as soon as he can get hands on the lip of the roof he’s straining to push himself up, feet scrabbling for purchase against the stonework.

Maybe it's all the extra time he’s been putting into the gym lately, maybe it's the sick adrenaline making his heart beat so fast he can barely breath, maybe it's sheer desperation, but somehow he gets himself up on his hands and knees on the edge of the roof. It's wildly against protocol, and he can vaguely hear Bobby yelling at him to stay down, but he can’t do that. Nothing feels real and he can’t quite remember what’s so urgent now, but he knows he has to get up, has to–

He forces himself to his feet, his vision swimming, head spinning so badly he loses all sense of direction. His stomach lurches violently and he doubles over to be sick. Hands are reaching for him and he doesn’t know why, he doesn't want them touching him. He twists away, stumbling back a step and then–

Oddly the fall isn’t much more disorientating than standing still had been, his vision still a spinning blur, his insides lurching with the feeling of wrong wrong wrong, his ears are ringing so badly he can’t hear the cries of the voices around him, it won't be until much later that he even understands what’s happened. The fall is fine. It's the sudden stop at the end that nearly obliterates his consciousness for good. The line pulls taught so fast it takes any breath he has left, pain searing along the lines of his harness. He thinks maybe he swings into the side of the building, that maybe it's the impact that whites out his already spotty vision, but he can’t be sure. It's too much, pain and light and sound and heat, he can’t bear it. He thinks maybe he’s sick again, or maybe he just wishes he could be. For the first time in his life he wishes for unconsciousness but it refuses to come, leaving him trapped in a burning twilight he can’t seem to find his way through.

There are hands on him again, but these are familiar–safe–so he leans in, something like a sob wrenching itself out of him when he hears Buck’s shaky voice right beside his head.

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you Eddie, you’re ok.”

It's too much to answer, but he tries to reach for Buck anyway, there’s a thrumming in his bones that tells him no matter what’s happening to him right now, Buck will see him through it.

“Just stay still ok? I’m gonna get us back up, you just let me do the work.”

He has no choice but to comply, going pliant against Buck’s body, his forehead pressed to the rough fabric of Buck’s uniformed shoulder. Hands work to anchor them together then slide up his shoulders and pull him closer still, one hand cradling the back of his head while the other locks around his aching ribs. Then they are moving again, or maybe not–it's hard to tell when he’s still so dizzy–but they must because the next thing he knows he’s on his back on the scorching concrete of the roof and god its so fucking hot. His blood must be boiling in his veins. He doesn't want to be here anymore.

“Hey hey hey.” Buck’s voice in his ear again, frightened. “Stay with me Eddie. Open your eyes.”

“Here.” Someone else says, and suddenly the relentless beat of the sun is blocked. That’s better, it's still bad, but it's better.

“Come on Eddie, open your eyes.”

He couldn’t do it for anyone else, but it's Buck asking, so he pries his eyelids up, blinking tears and dark spots away. He’s still dizzy, but it's better than it was. Buck is there, crouched by his head, face panicked.

“There you are.” Buck says, a shaky smile curving up the corners of his mouth. He shifts and presses a wet cloth to the back of Eddie’s neck and it feels better than anything has ever felt in the history of everything. Someone is cutting his shirt open, Hen he supposes, because Chim is busy sliding an iv into the back of his hand. Rodriguez stands above him, uniform shirt off and held over his head like a tent. Eddie thinks it might be the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for him. He tries to say so, but the sounds that tumble out of his mouth aren’t even close to words. Buck shoots Hen a frantic look but her attention is locked on the pressure cuff she’s got strapped around Eddie’s left arm.

“Pulse is 173.” Says Chim, and the medic in Eddie’s brain recoils. Too fast, it's too fast and he can’t– “180.” Chim corrects, then meets his eyes “Try to breathe ok Eddie? We’ve got you.”

“Temp is pushing 106.” Hen says, then swears, “His bp is tanking, we’ve got to get off this roof.”

Everything is going white around the edges and Eddie knows that it doesn't matter how much he wants to stay, he’s going under. The thought should scare him, but he’s so tired, feels so bad, that the idea of not feeling that anymore is welcome. He wishes he could reassure Buck though, knows it’s going to scare him. His mouth simply refuses to work, but he does manage to tip his head to the side, pressing his cheek into the curve of Buck’s wrist where he holds the cool cloth in place. Buck’s other hand comes up to cradle his jaw, fingers brushing sweat soaked hair off the side of his temple.

“I’m right here.” He says, so softly that Eddie isn’t sure if he actually hears it or just knows…knows in his deepest self that Buck is always, will always, be there to catch him. It's the thought he takes with him into oblivion.

[greywoodrpg]

𝕛𝕒𝕤𝕠𝕟 (𝕛𝕒𝕔𝕖) 𝕤𝕥𝕠𝕟𝕖

he was born thirty-seven years ago, is a human and lives in wolf crossing as a police detective. he looks an awful lot like jensen ackles.

“That’s the thing, no one ever thinks they’re the evil one.”

tw: alcoholism, death

Born July, 1986, Jason Stone grew up in a middle-class household in Boston, Massachusetts. From the outside looking in, his youth appeared to be normal: a young boy who got good grades and strived to become police chief one day, just like his grandfather. The reality, however, was not as picture perfect as it seemed.

Growing up with a single parent was hard, more so when his brother moved away to pursue his own career, but Jace and his mother made do. Soon, it was time to join the police academy and he gave it his all, working thrice as hard as anyone in his year. In the end, he made it to the finish line with excellent grades and went on to join his first police department as officer.

Keeping the city safe was what he had always wanted, but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t going to enjoy life too. Rigorous paperwork by day, Stone went out and had his fun. He always preferred pubs to clubs but this one night and his decision to go to one of the most popular ones in the city would change the course of his life forever. Out on the dance floor, was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. There was just something so hypnotizing about her, something exciting, and 27-year-old Jace could not help himself. One thing led to another and, within weeks, they were dating. The pair had nothing in common with regards to their upbringing but, much as it pained her rich parents, the bond that they shared was unbreakable.

By the end of the year, Lauren was pregnant. This abrupt news made life significantly more difficult for the young couple. Her parents threatened to cut her off and this put a strain on their relationship, which resulted in them dating on and off for the next 8 months. As a result, Jace’s good track record became erratic. He was making bad choices, falling into the wrong crowds, and slacking, to the point where he was also coming in late at work and missing shifts. Of course, as one might expect, this eventually cost him his relationship and custody of his daughter.

Several months later, and after getting much needed help, Stone recovered some of his old prestige and was partnered with a longtime colleague to investigate a smuggling case in the city. The detective work was intense, as was the gang’s history with the Boston Police department, but at long last, October 10th was the night that a sting operation was to take place. Roy was the man with the wire and Jace his only back up inside the warehouse. He was supposed to be his way out after the exchange, his insurance, but the actual events could not have deviated further from the plan. Struck by a fear he had never known before; Jason Stone witnessed the exchange turn bloody. To this day, Jace’s memory of the events remains intact -as does he, having only a scar to show up for it- but no official track record has the truth on how Roy died. The department held a memorial service to give him an honorable sendoff and Stone was strongly advised to ‘let it go’ and to ‘never dig into the case ever again’ for his own sake. Vampires did not exist, or so they said, and the case was forever closed (or was it?). Did the cops at the precinct know more than they let on? And why did they cover up the truth?

Jace is an exceptionally gifted cop but his past struggles with alcohol and life in general have often become bigger obstacles than he would like to admit. He may come off as arrogant and distant at first, but if given the chance one will discover that he is just desperate to be loved and accepted for who he is. Stone needs help but he is never one to ask for such things and chances are he never will.

Now sober for five years and aware of what goes bump in the night, he is excited at the prospect of a fresh start at life and a new job opportunity as detective in Greywood. What does the future at Greywood hold?

“what power did he attain when settling in greywood?”

Precognition: An impossible knowledge on future events through supernatural means.

Upon entering the city of Greywood, Jace has begun to experience sudden visions. Sometimes, those come in the form of prophetic dreams but, in any case, those are most definitely involuntary and often require for him to be in some form of trance. All he knows, is that these relate to the immediate future and are limited to predicting only a singular likely outcome (for now, that is*). Though wary at first, this has served him well on his job, allowing him to lean towards the right course of actions and avoid disastrous consequences.

*As he progresses in the game, he might be able to further his ability. The idea is that he becomes capable of tapping into his powers at will and seeing many different possible outcomes. This would allow him to see many different possible outcomes, gathering information and finding the best paths to take by going through many different possibilities.

Some limitations include:

It can cause great strain to his mind. It requires for him to be in a trance, asleep or unconscious. It is an involuntary action happening unexpectedly. He may only be able to see probability, meaning the future they see may not come to pass or be different in some respects.

penned by... di

[rabbitindisguise]

oh man I don't have holiday plans this year and I know why (it's because I basically haven't hung out with any of my friends for the past 8 months) but it still Sucks especially because I know the past couple months I have just been all over the place mentally and emotionally so I wouldn't but up for it anyways but mrehmreghrhehgugh

it is the first time since *checks watch* 2019 where I genuinely didn't have anyone to spend time with to distract me from the Everything so I dunno I'm really feeling it this year I guess. Doing this without a therapist is really hard. I can tell I'm rapid cycling but it's hard to climb out of it :/ plus the group meeting social thing I go to felt unsatisfying for a number of reasons like I was hoping it wouldn't be. I just feel. Bad.

So like, all of these are the problems, which means once I understand them I can start planning out a way to reframe it and even potentially think of solutions . . . . so okay there's a lot of reasons why this is different from last time. I do have plans just not the day of. It's not that people don't want to hang out with me, most of them are just on the east coast. The last time I had a really good experience but also it was a lot of physical and mental strain and I might react to it more poorly this year. The past couple weeks I've been ruminating, participating in a lot of negative self talk, sleeping poorly, and my routines are still all thrown off. I haven't been talking the breaks I need. This is even a good opportunity to sort out my priorities on how I want to spend my time and strike a balance between online hobbies (which tend to trigger mania) and physical in person meetups (which tend to give me more psychological stability).

It's not even online vs in person, because these negative emotions are affecting me even when I'm talking to friends online. Plus I can use this as a good opportunity to catch up on things, like editing photos from flower piano and other trips and that link collection I promised. This gives me time to work on gifts and black friday too- I want to get the most bang for buck on things I typically can't afford, and having some time available to do that is nice. And for the rest of the time pre-holidays, I can finish updating my bullet journal like I haven't done in forever and go over all the good things/important things that have happened to build a more accurate perception of my progress with my mental health over the past year. Frankly I feel like most of my progress stalled in feburary and it's been awhile of just putting my coping skills to the test. But I do know that even if it feels that way, I have really made progress in some areas, and I should continue to do the habits that I found to be the most helpful in maintaining the best conditions for me to communicate successfully with others and make people feel comfortable. I can send cards again and stuff too as a treat because I find that relaxing.

Other than that this is making me think I should make plans in my budget to get a light therapy lamp because this aligns too perfectly with daylight savings (some symptoms, the particularly concerning ones like anxiety and panic attacks as well as overwhelming dread over social interactions). I don't need to get a new bullet journal, but I should probably consider getting copic refills at some point since I'll be picking it up again and that's a big part of my journaling . . . process? technique? it's what I do when I have some extra energy to devote to it.

List of things to do:

light therapy lamp

catch up on bullet journaling

edit photos

shop for presents, make presents, and send cards

calendar the different events I want to go to (maybe big day holidays in person, smaller less celebrated holidays online, etc)

sleep before 2 a.m.

wake up before 10 a.m.

take my multivitamin (and frankly the rest of my "extra" medications like benedryl) consistently

stay hydrated and fed

make plans for copic budgeting

I also need to be reasonable with myself with what I can actually afford and what I actually need. I've felt an increasing pressure financially because of a bunch of *waves hand* debt stuff but ultimately I can't live my life waiting for that to resolve. So I can sort of make the assumption that I will have money going forward and should start using my savings account properly now that I'm planning on doing that.