#brain surgery is a hell of a drug

[lasersheith]

I got a new phone and it remembered my Tumblr password so here I am babey

No idea if I'll be doing more tumblring as Twitter continues to be a shit heap but I guess we'll see!

[valtsv]

the thing i hate most about being a survivor of medical abuse as a result of being raised by conspiracy brained alternative health obsessed parents is that i know exactly why they did it. they genuinely thought that they were saving my life. people will ask me "how could anyone do that to their child?" but as far as they were concerned refusing to let me be vaccinated or take antibiotics and throwing out post-surgery prescription drugs (including the ones meant to prevent life threatening infections) was better than being responsible for my death, which their stupid little conspiracy posts and pamphlets assured them would be drawn out and terrible. obviously they wouldn't have been responsible for anything but a happier, healthier child and i suffered a lot of unnecessary pain, but in the reality they lived in the alternative was a dead kid. unfortunately that means i have to live with some of the most horrifying experiences of my life being points of personal pride and evidence of the protective power of familial love and good parenting for them, but that's what they say about the road to hell and good intentions innit.

[peachesofteal]

First Sight / Chapter 2

Chapter 2 of 2. Part five of the Sassy series. First chapter here.

Simon Riley/female reader - soft dad Simon Riley 4k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ Minors DNI, PTSD, PPD, mentions of blood and violence, reader is a new mom, tenderness, fluff, complicated feelings, mentions of Percocet (no addiction or abuse), feelings of fear and anxiety, emotional hurt/comfort. Simon is here. Theo is here. There is nothing to fear.

The house is quiet. Practically silent, except for the ebb and flow of Simon snoring, the broad expanse of his chest combined with the crook of his elbow making a very comfortable sleeping spot for Theo apparently. It’s like white noise, you guess. You've heard of babies being lulled to sleep by the sound of the ocean, or rain, or even a vacuum cleaner, but you didn’t have to resort to any of those, the crackle coming from Simon’s nose more than enough.  

Which is great, because you’re exhausted. Or at least, you think you are. It’s hard to tell right now. Your abdomen is still sore, giant incision finally starting to close after six long weeks, and your brain never turns off, the darkness pulling at the edge your mind dragging you through hell almost every day, the bright spots few and infrequent. You feel haunted. You feel like a husk.

Ten fingers, ten toes, ten pounds. You stare at Theo in awe, his little face perfectly serene while he sleeps in your arms, and you lower your own to the crown of his head, skimming your nose across his tiny tuft of hair. You hold him close, pointer finger tracing as lightly as possible across the apple of his cheek, back and forth. It’s hard to believe he’s even real. Or that he’s here. That the two of you made it through, and that he now has a birthday, a name, ten fingers, and ten toes. 

This, whatever it is, is the strongest concentration of love you’ve ever felt in your life, that you’re sure of. Things that mattered before, don’t anymore. Things you were worried about in the past, don’t exist. The only thing that’s real is this baby in your arms, your baby, Simon’s baby, and you blink rapidly to hold back tears at the realization. 

“What do you think, mom? You ready for some pain relief so you can get some sleep?” The nurse asks, and Simon nods but doesn’t speak. You know he wants you to get some painkillers, that he’s having a hard time watching you wince and bite your lip to the point where you draw blood, but he also wouldn’t dare speak for you, even though you’re sure he wants to take over, take charge and make sure you get what you need. 

You did just have major surgery, and the other drugs have worn off, leaving you with searing pain in your stomach and cramps in your legs. 

But the idea of taking a Percocet makes you nervous, lights some uneasy fire in the back of your mind, and irrational but completely real fear buzzes in your nervous system. If you’re drugged, you’ll be loopy, and it makes you want to say no. The amount of pain your body is in fights against the resistance, and you glance at Simon hesitantly. Like he’s reading your mind, he reaches out to place a gentle hand on your thigh. 

“Nothing is going to happen if you take a pain pill. I promise.” He says encouragingly and you relent with a sigh. 

“Okay, yeah.”

“Sass?” It’s Simon, standing in the doorway, Theo in the sling that is his giant forearm. He sits comfortably there, perfectly snuggled against his dad, and it makes your heart clench. Simon is looking at you warily, like he doesn’t recognize you. Which is fair. You don’t even recognize yourself. “What’re you doin’ out here?” Where? You blink, processing the question. Here? Your toes wiggle, in grass, and you look around. Why are you in the backyard? At night? 

“Oh. I don’t know.” He’s holding his hand out to you, large fingers reaching for yours.

“Come inside.” He presses his thumb to your wrist, eyes closing before speaking again. “I think you should call the shrink.”

“No.”

“Sass. There’s nothing wrong with it, if you need to talk to someone.” You laugh weakly.

“That’s rich, coming from you.” You spit, tone edged in an eagerness to fight, and he tenses. Fuck. “I’m sorry.” Your shoulders slump. Stop being such a bitch. He’s doing practically everything for you right now. “I’m sorry. Really. I’m just… out of it.” You step closer, leaning your forehead into his chest, blinking down at the wriggling baby in his arm. Your son. You feel Simon’s nose in your hair, and then a heavy palm rests at the small of your back.

He inhales deeply.

“I know.”

Ten fingers, ten toes, ten pounds. You repeat it over and over for assurance, even though your son is sleeping comfortably in your arms, safe and healthy. Ten fingers, ten toes, ten pounds. It’s hard to believe you’re a mom now, someone who has a tiny, defenseless little human depending on you for everything. 

Well, not just you. 

You eye Simon, asleep in the chair less than a foot from the bed, head tilted back, mouth open. There’s a large white spot of baby vomit on the front of his black sweatshirt, and he’s sporting some serious undereye circles from being up with Theo as much as possible. He doesn’t let you lift a finger, which is fine considering you can’t even really get out of the bed without help, your giant incision still wrapped up and body still exhausted from surgery, two days later. 

On top of everything, something felt off. There was this feeling, a dark, lonely thing pulling at your limbs, trying to wring you out over and over, dragging you down into the dark of the deepest waters. You were frightened of it, the cycle of thoughts spiraling through your mind every time you closed your eyes, the inky blackness of dark feelings overtaking you from every direction. Were you going to be a good mom? Would you be able to take care of Theo? What if Simon wasn’t here? What if something bad happens? What if you die? What if Theo doesn’t love you? What if Simon leaves? What if you don’t like your own baby? What if you can’t bond with him? What if you suck at this? 

Theo gurgles, a small noise, and you try to shift to alleviate some of the pressure on your back. Pain zings through you, the sting of your muscles seizing, and you gasp, loud enough that Simon is jerking awake, eyes scanning the room until they land on you and your hopeless form. 

“Need help?” You nod miserably, and he lifts Theo away from your body while you try to get situated. You watch him rock the baby easily, settling into a natural rhythm like it’s nothing, and try not to feel irritated. He’s a natural. How is possible that Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley is so good at this and you’re a failure? Tears prick along your waterline, and you slam your eyes shut, but not before one escapes down your cheek. “Hey, what is it? What’s wrong?” A big, warm hand envelopes yours, and your emotions surge inside of you, sadness and love and anxiety swirling in your heart until you’re sniffling. 

“I’m sorry.” You sob and he looks stricken. 

“Sorry for what?” 

“For being such a mess.” 

“You just had a baby, Sass. And you have a huge wound in your stomach. You’re gonna be a mess for a bit.” 

“Yeah, b-but I can’t even take care of my… my own baby,” The words are slurred, pieced together through tears, and you try to catch your breath. He folds his hand around the back of your neck and leans forward, bringing Theo between your two bodies while your face nestles into him. “and you’re being so nice to me.” You cry aloud. 

“Shhh. It’s alright, sweet girl. You’re okay.” TWO babies. There are two babies in this stupid hospital room. You take a deep breath through your nose while Simon rubs your back, Theo blinking up at the two of you silently. “Did you get any sleep this morning?” 

“N- no.” He sighs as he pulls away, lips dragging across your temple gently and then up to your forehead to press a kiss there, soft and slow, lingering as long as he can. 

“I think you should try to get some sleep,” you shrug and wipe your eyes. “I’ll turn out the lights.”

“Wait.” Your hand shoots out to latch onto his in a panic. “Si. I- don’t go anywhere. Please?” 

“We’ll both be right here.” He assures you, folding your hand back into your lap with a squeeze before moving to flick the light off. “We’re right here, okay? Close your eyes.” He slides the reclining chair another half a foot closer to the bed, easing down into it with Theo secure in one arm, holding your hand with the other. He traces a thumb over the skin of your knuckles, and your eyes slip closed.

You’re home. You’re not in danger. Simon is here. Theo is here. There is nothing to fear. You stare at your reflection in the mirror, the straggly ends of your hair, the rise and fall of your chest beneath Simon’s t shirt. You’re home. You’re not in danger. Simon is here. Theo is here. There is nothing to fear. Your head is pounding, a headache ripping across the front of your brain, your stomach churning like you’re going to vomit up the breakfast you ate this morning. Your legs feel weak, or maybe it’s your body that feels heavy, but either way, you can hardly stand, leaning against the bathroom countertop for support. You focus on your breath, in and out, counting inhales and exhales, but there’s a buzzing sound in your ear, and the room suddenly feels dark, like your vision is cloudy.

When you close your eyes, you see a teenager walking towards you, a bomb wired to the vest he’s wearing.

You see Soap’s blood on your palms, you feel it slicking your skin up your forearms, you hear his grunts of pain as you pack his wound.

You see Simon outside the tent after you left, staring up at the helicopter as it took you away. You remember the unadulterated rage that coursed through your veins, the overwhelming feeling of anger that consumed your entire existence.

You see the faces of the first infantry troop you deployed with in the desert. The fresh-faced lieutenant, begging you to make sure his wife and kids get his death benefits while he dies in front of you, torso blown open, organs shredded by bullets. The private, from Louisiana, whose parents were long dead, but he told you about how sweet his baby sister was while the two of waited for a field medic that would be way too late.

You see your dad, the last time you ever saw his face, putting you on a plane to a country you knew nothing about while you screamed, your mother crying in his arms. The silver of the cross around his neck glinting in the afternoon sun.

You’re home. You’re not in danger. Simon is here. Theo is here. There is nothing to fear. 

There’s a knock on the door and you snap to attention.

“Sass?” You fix your face in the mirror as well as you can before answering.

“Yeah, coming.”

It’s the familiar ring of a facetime call that wakes you, your head foggy with the cotton of deep sleep. You squint at the caller ID, Johnny’s name popping up across the screen accompanied by the soap emoji.  

“Hi.” You answer, voice still a little groggy. Simon is already lifting Theo from the bassinet, depositing him on your chest gently, and giving your shoulder a squeeze before he slumps back in the chair. 

“Sassafras, look at ‘im.” Theo’s just visible in the screen, and Johnny is grinning, hand partially covering his face because his eyes are suspiciously wet. “You did a grand job lass.” You smile at him in thanks, and Simon grunts from the chair right next to the bed. “Where’s the big guy?” 

“He's here.” You angle the camera, and Simon cracks a small smile under the mask. 

“Hey Johnny.” 

“Ghost! Yer a lucky man, LT.” Simon looks to you, something soft shining in his eyes before it disappears. 

“Yeah.” He reaches over, hand laying gently over top yours where it rests on Theo's back.

“He’s ready to meet Uncle Soap, whenever you get leave next. Feel free to come over this way.” You chime. “We, uh actually wanted to talk to you about being his godfather...” 

“No, we don’t.” Simon barks but you shake your head, moving the camera back to you. 

“Yes, we do. Ignore him. It was his idea, Johnny.” You shoot him a look. 

“Ah you two, I’m honored.” There’s a noise in the background, something loud, and Johnny looks away quickly, before returning to the screen. “Gotta run. Miss ya Sassy, and the grumpy bastard.” 

“Bye, Soap. Be safe, stay frosty.” Theo cries just as Johnny hangs up, and you pat his back slowly, murmuring above his ear. 

“What is it?” You soothe. “Hungry?” You bounce him slightly, all you can do from the bed, before looking up at Simon imploringly. “Si…” 

“C’mere” He pulls the baby from your arms, tilting him onto his back at a good angle for the bottle, before settling down next to you on the bed. “Like a champ.” He says proudly, and you can’t help the grin that tugs at your lips. 

“He’s got a good appetite.” You push your finger into his tiny fist, and he grabs onto it reflexively. “Like his dad I guess.” You tease and Simon smirks, leaning down to plant a kiss across your cheek.

Theo is screaming on the monitor. Both of you jolt awake, and Simon is out of bed before you can even say anything, hall light flicking on and floorboards creaking under his feet.

You glance at the clock. 3:32 AM. Well, at least he made it three hours. There’s a beeping sound inside your ear, and you cringe, shaking it away as you fully wake. Anxiety immediately blooms in your mind, and you take deep breaths to calm your heart. You’re home. You’re not in danger. Simon is here. Theo is here. There is nothing to fear. You sit up slowly, shifting your hips until you’re fully upright, and Simon comes back.

“Hungry, I think.” He’s got Theo against his chest, blanket over his shoulder. His hair is all a mess, like the baby’s, and the sight of them together nearly makes you start crying. Your boys.

“Here.” You clear your throat. “I’ll take him, you grab the bottle?” He rubs his face sleepily and you rock Theo, trying to get his cries to calm down while you wait for the formula. “Shhh.” You make the hushing noise near his ear, to no avail.

The song comes easily. It’s not a lullaby, and you’re a shit singer, but since he was born, singing works better than humming, though you’re not sure why. You rock him in time with the beat you’re conjuring in your head, closing your eyes and imagining your voice is not terribly off key.

“I am not the only traveler, who has not repaid his debt. I’ve been searching for a trail to follow, again. Take me back to the night we met.” Theo cries, but more softly, a little hiccup shaking his chest. “And then I can tell myself, what the hell I’m supposed to do. And then I can tell myself, not to ride along with you.” You press a kiss to his forehead, stroking across the baby soft skin of his cheek. “I had all and then most of you, some and now none of you. Take me back to the night we met.” He’s gone silent, just looking up at you with big wide eyes now, and you smile down at him in the dim light of your bedside lamp. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do, haunted by the ghost you. Take me back to the night we met.” 

When you look up, Simon’s standing in the doorway again, bottle in one hand, burp cloth in the other, frozen to the spot, staring at you.

“Hey.” He startles, like he was off somewhere else, and takes big strides until he’s sitting at your side, handing the bottle over. “Thanks.”

“Y-yeah.” He stutters, and you frown.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Just tired.”

“I can put him back in the crib, if you want to lay down.” You gesture to his side of your bed, but he shakes his head.

“No, no. ’s fine.”

“You sure?” Theo sucks the bottle down with ease, and you prop him on your shoulder over the burp cloth. Simon leans forward, and presses his lips to your brow, hand resting on Theo’s back. He holds himself there, for a second, then two, and three, until he pulls away to touch his forehead to yours.

“I’m sure.”

The woman says your name, nodding at you from where she sits to the left of your bed.

“I’m Dr. Moreno. I’m a resident psychologist here, but I also do work for the VA.” You fight the urge to tell her to get the fuck out and choose to smile politely instead. “I understand you have some concerns about postpartum depression.” 

“Yeah.” Suddenly, you wished you hadn’t been so painfully honest on the questionnaire your OB gave you. 

“Are you currently receiving any treatment for your PTSD?” 

“No.”

“Are you interested in receiving treatment for PTSD?” 

“Not really, I’ve done therapy before.” She nods thoughtfully. 

“Did your doctor go over everything with you about C-section recovery?” 

“Yeah, she did.” Somewhere, in the very back of your mind, something tells you to be more forthcoming, to be more open with this shrink, but it gets shut down before it can become a full thought. 

“Okay. I am going to give you my card. It has my office number on it and my email. You can reach out to me anytime you need to.” You give her another polite, lackluster look. She sighs. “Being a new mom can be hard, even for those who don’t have histories of trauma. There is no shame in needing help.” 

“I know. Thank you.” You hold the card up like its proof that you’re listening, like you can be trusted to call if you think you’re in trouble. She gives you a sympathetic smile as she makes to leave, reiterating that she wants you to call her if you need to. 

A heavy knock sounds on the door, and then Simon is standing in the room, medical mask on his face, sleeping baby cuddled against him. Just the sight of him holding Theo cleaves your heart in two, and you hold your arms out to them both, anxious to be near them. He gives the doctor a look when she passes, and then raises an eyebrow at you. 

“You alright?” Theo cries and you motion with your hands so you can hold him. 

“Yeah. Just usual shrink stuff.”

“Alright, come off it. It’s not that funny.” Simon’s jaw flexes as you try to hold back the laughter and fail. It hurts your stomach, but at the same time, it feels great. It feels real.

“Oh my god. I’m so- sorry. For laughing, it’s just-“ you stare down at the mess of burnt food in the pan, eyebrows creasing in sympathy when you look back up at him. “You’re so sweet. Thank you.” He scowls.

“I’ll order takeout.”

“No, no you don’t have to. We can make something else.”

“No.” He turns to stalk away, and you’re hit with a wave of emotion out of nowhere, so strong that it nearly knocks you off balance, almost steals your breath. It feels familiar. It feels like Belize, and every second afterwards until he sent you away, it feels like waking up in the hospital to his face hovering over yours, it feels like watching him press his ear to your belly when Theo was still inside you. It feels like that night when the two of you sat on the roof of the safehouse in Belarus, after the botched extraction mission, the one that left him with twenty stitches in his thigh and you got that really bad burn on your arm. The roof where the two of you traded secrets, where he told you about his dad and you told him about yours. It feels like the night in Uruguay, when you and Johnny and him all went out and found a bar, when you got drunk and he pressed you against the brick wall in the alley, your legs wrapped around his waist, his face buried in your neck, whispering words you couldn’t quite hear under his breath. It feels like watching him cry in the operating room when he saw the baby for the first time, watching him become a dad, watching him beat the vicious cycle of trauma and abuse right before your eyes.

You wrap yourself around his waist before he can get too far away, molding your body to his back, and his hand comes down to where yours rests on his stomach.

“Sass?”

“Don’t. Just, stay here. Like this. For a minute.” He shifts, turning while keeping you pressed against him, until you’re resting your cheek on his chest, and he’s rubbing your back.

“You alright?” His voice is gentle, he’s always gentle with you now, and the realization makes the feeling grow even stronger.

“Yeah. I’m… Simon. I-“

Theo cries on the baby monitor. Insistent. Bossy, as Simon enjoys telling you, like his mum. 

You step away with a sigh.

“I’ll get him.” He kisses your forehead before heading up the stairs.

When he makes it back down, you’re scrubbing the pan out, charred food already deposited in the garbage can.

“There she is.” Simon says from behind you, and you turn to see Theo blinking in your direction, eyes wide and making little garbled cooing noises.

“Hi baby.” Simon shuffles him into your arms, and you sway side to side slowly. “You’re hungry.” You deduce, and he agrees with you, making an impatient crying sound, tiny fist swinging into the air. “I know, I know. Hang on.” You soothe. You settle yourself on the couch with a bottle, brushing against his cheek lightly to trigger the rooting reflex before plopping it in his mouth. He drinks greedily, eyes trying to slip shut once he’s had his fill, and Simon laughs from where he sits next to you.

“You’re good at this.” He says quietly. You balance Theo on your shoulder while you burp him, and then look at Simon like he’s off his rocker.

“Me?”

“Yeah, Sass.” He pauses. “And ya look good, holding my baby.” Your cheeks heat, and something clenches in your stomach. You shoot him a look and he grins like a fool, real happiness stretching across his face in spades. It’s beautiful, he’s beautiful, and you- “I know you’re struggling right now,” he pulls you out of your train of thought, eyes pensive, grin morphing into something bittersweet. “and it’s been hard, but… I’m here. For you. For Theo. I want us…” he trails off when Theo burps and you shift, cradling him back into a sleeping position. “I don’t know… what will happen, in the future, and I know I still got a lot, of making up to do. But I want this. With you. I want us to… be a family.” You study his knuckles, fingers bunched together with tension, the height of his shoulders under his ears. You expect to feel the unraveling force of your anger, the swell of rage towards him that has been lurking under the surface for so long, but it never comes. It simmers in the distance, cool and unprovoked, sitting silently and uneager. You wonder if it's temporary, if you’ll ever feel it again, the way you used to.

Instead, when you look at him, all you see is Simon. Theo’s dad. All you have is that feeling, the strong emotion that makes your head spin, and while you can’t get your mouth to form those three words, you feel the full force it when you look up at him with softness in your gaze and say,

“I think we already are, Si.”

[all-wrung-out]

Whumpblr Intro

Hey! I've gone far too long without actually making an intro, despite having this side blog up for a bit. So here we go!

I go by Tac when I'm interacting online (my main blog is calligraphic-tac, and that's my chaos-corner where I try to post things I like, things that inspire me, and my more general writing, when I can actually get words out). Pronouns are she/her, although they/them are good backups.

I've been into whump for as long as I can remember, but in my 33 years on the planet, I only learned last year that there's a whole community for it. I'd heard the term "whump" before, and kind of knew what it was, but never made the connection to the type of media I like.

There are some whump tropes that I'll always enjoy, but the favorite flavor of the week is usually on rotation from the following list:

Superhero whump

Kidnapping

Defiant/Stoic/Strong/Snarky Whumpees

Self-sacrificial Whumpee

Pushing oneself until collapse (especially for Heroes/Leaders)

Whumpers who feign rage, but are actually very calculated and careful in their treatment of Whumpee

Whumpers who actually lose their temper, especially when triggered by a defiant whumpee

Team whump

Non-human Whumpee (especially when it pertains to the good, old-fashioned "what makes us human" trope)

Drug/poison whump (Fucked up balance and altered perception, anyone?)

Medical whump (specifically, medical treatment, but "This is gonna hurt.")

Lab whump (especially testing the limits of a living weapon or attempting to forcibly manifest powers that may or may not exist)

The good, old-fashioned Beating trope

Pinned/Trapped

Drowning/asphyxiation

Environmental/Wilderness whump (extreme temperatures and survival)

Animal attacks

Used as bait

Infected wounds (especially when it comes to treatment of said wounds)

Self-surgery or self-care

Mind control (Specifically, conflict between Whumper/Whumpee within Whumpee's mind while Whumper tries to take control. OH! And Whumper causing Whumpee to experience things that didn't happen; I have a really neat story idea for this one!)

I'm sure I'm missing some, but I suppose I can amend this post when I remember some more. Some of my whump tastes are also kind of specific, so listing them concisely can be a challenge.

Not going to list my squicks here. (As the saying goes: "If you don't want someone to get your goat, don't let them know where it's tied.") However, if you're looking for NSFW-type whump, I don't typically write that. (Not for other folks, anyway; I'm rather terrible at it.)

I used to write a lot as a kid, but was often ashamed of my affinity for whump, so any time I tried to write it, I chickened out and wrote something else. I still wrote plenty of action and peril, but the whump was usually not as heavy as I initially imagined.

I've also been in a bit of a writing slump for... oh, goodness... It's going on 14 years now. I really want to get out of it, so I'm hoping whump writing will help.

Fun fact about me: A lot of my stories are grown from a kernel of whump. I think of a specific scenario I want to put an OC through, and then a whole story grows out of it.

Some of my favorite whump blogs include: @whump-me @whumperofworlds @allthewhumpygoodness @emmithar-blog @soheavyaburden @whumperfultime @roblingoblin285 @blackrosesandwhump @evilwriter-originals I'm still collecting whump blogs to follow, so feel free to interact if you're one such blog!

Also, I'm going to be rusty as hell, so please bear with me while I get my writing brain reinstalled in the ol' skull-housing.

Last thing (I know this post is long already): I've seen the way the whump community interacts and I'm happy to be a part of it. I'm not especially social myself, but I'm nonetheless proud to be part of such an amazing group of folks. Keep rockin', y'all!

[adhd-coyote]

Hi hello! Good morning!

Could I interest you in my Seventeen/Fives agenda and #32? 💜

Good morning, you may indeed! I had a lot of fun writing this one ;3

32 - A kiss while someone watches

-

Fives can’t get his fucking head on straight.

Your head has never been on straight, Fives, the little voice that sounds like Echo’s teases. Fives mentally flips him the bird. He’s having a difficult fucking time right now, alright? His brain is swimming in whatever drugs they’ve put in him, his head is still pounding from fucking brain surgery, and all of Kamino is on high alert looking for him. This is the only time he’s regretted tattooing his number on his forehead. It’s easy to blend into a crowd of people who share your face until you have a marker to set you apart.

He sends a silent apology to the Shiny he’s shoved into a storage closet and slips out, clad in stolen armor. It’s lighter than what he’s used to, missing all of the extra weight that comes with his ARC kit, but it’ll help him blend in, and right now that’s the most important thing.

There’s chips in their heads. Godsdamned mind control chips in every single vod’s head. Gods, Fives feels like he’s gonna be sick.

Keep it together, Fives. You’re a fucking ARC Trooper, act like it.

Easier said — or thought — than done.

Fives forces himself to take slow, even breaths as he marches down the hall in perfect form. It’s difficult, with his foggy head and racing heart, but he manages. Squads of troopers run past him, unaware how close their prey is, and Fives prays to the little gods that they stay unaware.

“Everyone’s looking for you, verd’ika.”

Fives freezes. Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit. Alpha-17.

He should have kept walking. Gods, why did he freeze? He could have played it off, now he’s given himself away-

“The hell did you do to cause such a scurry, huh?”

“Please,” is the first word out of Fives’ mouth. “I’ve- I’ve found something, something important, they’re gonna reconn me, sir, please, you can’t-”

“Easy, verd’ika.” Alpha-17’s large hand cups the back of Fives’ neck. On instinct, the tension bleeds away from Fives’ limbs, leaving him pliant in 17’s hold. He looks up, terrified, and meets eyes that look softer than Fives has ever seen before. “C’mon, let’s get you outta here.”

17’s hand leaves his neck and Fives is left scampering after him as he stalks off. He feels like he’s back in ARC training, trailing behind 17, desperate to prove himself worthy of Rex’s recommendation. “Off-planet? You- You’re helping me?”

17 looks back at him, eyebrow raised. “Did you forget I trained you? You’re a smart one, verd’ika, even if you don’t look it. I knew something was up when they wouldn’t tell us why we were after you. But you’re a long talker, and we don’t have time for that, so I’m just gonna have to trust that you’ve got a good reason.”

“I do!” Fives assures, struggling to keep up with 17’s long strides. Normally, he wouldn’t have any issue, but the drugs have made his thoughts slow and his limbs heavy. Alpha-17 puts a hand to the small of his back and pushes him faster. Fives stumbles, but manages to keep up without falling. He realizes the way they’re positioned is deliberate- Fives is between 17 and the wall, and 17’s bulk hides most of him from view. Not to mention that Fives looks a lot less suspicious walking with him than by himself.

“Here.” 17 drags him into what Fives recognizes as a private hangar. He immediately clocks someone else — General Ti — and straightens, hoping beyond hope that she won’t recognize him, already knowing she does.

“Good, you’re here. I’ve prepared the ship for takeoff, you need to leave right now.”

“Wh- What?”

Alpha-17 rolls his eyes and nudges him forward. “She’s helping, too. Got one of those weird Force feelings or whatever.”

General Ti nods, offering a soft smile. “Yes. The Force wants you to escape. So you must leave, now. 17 and I will stall them.”

“Oh.” Fives swallows around the ball in his throat. “Thank you.”

Alpha-17 snorts. “No thanking, verd’ika.”

He takes Fives’ helmet and lifts it away. Fives doesn’t get a chance to wonder why he’s done that, because suddenly there’s a large hand cupping the back of his neck and lips pressed to his. He’s still trying to process that when 17 pulls away, smirking, and squeezes his neck. “Go on, get going. Don’t get yourself killed, and there might be more of that later, verd’ika.”

“Y-Yes sir,” Fives stammers out, reeling. He’s got so much emotional whiplash right now, and no idea how to handle it.

“Fives.” Oh shit, right, General Ti is still here. And saw that. Shit. “There is enough supplies to last you a week on the ship. Go, now, and hurry.”

“Right.” Fives nods quickly, and with one last look at Alpha-17, scrambles aboard the ship and prepares to take off.

-

Kiss ask game

[oliversrarebooks]

Febuwhump Day 1: Helpless

tw: forced drugging, restraints, medical whump, forced brain surgery, implied mind control, stun weapon

It was like hitting a brick wall.

One minute, Toshiro was slamming into henchman after henchman, taking them out at a speed faster than the human mind could comprehend. The next minute, his face was rapidly meeting the floor.

His ears were ringing, his vision blurring as his eyes threatened to close on him. His muscles were weak, and it was if someone had pulled the plug on the nerves connecting his brain to his body. The tile floor was cold against his cheek as he fell to the floor with an embarrassing thump, as gracefully as a sack of potatoes, and equally able to move.

Some kind of stun gun. Stunning... thing. Vibrations. His newly fogged mind tried to reason through the situation. He was in the middle of Dr. Moon's lair, and although he'd cut a wide swath through her armored goons and lab interns, he hadn't spotted the good doctor herself yet. 

Which meant that this was probably all a trap, and he had obligingly raced into it at top speed.

Fuck. Whatever that weapon was had rendered him helpless. Unless he could recover quickly, he'd be screwed.

He struggled to regain his bearings through the dizziness, managing to force his weakened arms to push him up off the floor, when the low, strong vibrations racked his body again and knocked his tenuous grasp on control far away.

"Well, now, I'd call that experiment a rousing success," said a familiar and infuriatingly smug voice. 

Toshiro struggled to focus on the clean white sneakers that stepped in front of his face. Dr. Moon crouched down in front of him, grabbing his chin and directing his blurred gaze into hers. 

"Did you enjoy it as well?"

"Fffff..." Toshiro tried to get his mouth to cooperate enough to at least tell her to fuck off.

"Fantastic? Fabulous? Is that what you're trying to say? I think that's what you're trying to say," she said, nonchalantly snapping thick metal restraints on Toshiro's wrists. 

Oh, this situation was getting better and better, wasn't it? He could probably use his supersonic vibration to break these cuffs, but it would take some time, and that was at full power, which he most certainly was not. He was still stunned enough that he felt like he might pass out at any moment.

"Don't worry, you're in good hands now, my dear little hero," she said, running a hand through his hair. "Katie, can you get my guest his little party favor?"

A young woman in a lab coat looked confused by the request. "Party favor...?"

Dr. Moon sighed. "The IV. I'm talking about the IV I had you prepare."

"Oh, yes!" she said. "Right away, doctor."

"And let's make him more comfortable! Can two of you get him onto the surgical table?"

"Yes, doctor."

IV drugs? Surgical table? Toshiro's blood ran cold. What the hell was she planning? Her experiments had roughed him up many a time, but she'd never done anything like this. 

"Whaaaa..." he slurred pathetically, flopping like a dead fish as a couple of henchmen lifted him onto a padded table. He was still too numb and dazed to fight, and his window of escape seemed to rapidly be coming to a close. As a couple of scrawny scientists effortlessly held him down on the table -- humiliating enough that his embarrassment fought with his growing fear -- Katie returned with a large bag of translucent blue liquid on an IV pole.

"Oh, you're going to just love this, Toshiro," Dr. Moon said, brandishing the IV line's needle with theatrical flair. "You never get enough breaks, do you? I'm about to give you a nice long one."

Toshiro couldn't help his composure breaking slightly. It was one thing to be injured while fighting, or even to be captured and tortured. It was another thing entirely to be rendered unconscious, completely defenseless against whatever the mad scientist wanted to do with him.

"No need to look so upset. This won't hurt at all. You're just going to get very, very sleepy. You'll be just a bit drowsy and slow for the next, oh, let's say the next while. I wouldn't operate any heavy machinery."

She was bringing that IV needle closer to his elbow. He summoned all of his strength to try and pull away, knowing that as soon as he had that drug pumping into his body, it'd all be over. Unfortunately, his muscles were still largely unresponsive from the double stun just a few minutes ago.

Damn it, he had to -- !

The doctor effortlessly got the IV into his vein with a practiced hand, taping it down securely. He looked on in horror as the light blue liquid snaked down the tube and into his arm, willing the drug to somehow stop before it reached him. His arm felt cold and heavy at the injection site as the sedative began to flow freely into his system.

"That should kick in long before you get your bearings from my wonderful stun weapon," she said, stroking his cheek and looking down at him with malicious glee. "And I want to drink every last drop of your fear as you go under."

Toshiro glared as best as he could, testing his powers. Maybe if he could get his supersonic speed working, he could dislodge the IV from his elbow before he absorbed too much of the drug. His fast metabolism meant it took a lot to put him down, anyway.

He was already so groggy from being stunned, and so focused on forcing his uncooperative body to move, that he didn't even notice the buzzing in the back of his skull until it was too late. In seconds, the buzzing transformed into a deep drowsiness, muffling his thoughts like a blanket of fresh-fallen snow, draining him of energy, making his eyelids droop.

"And there it is!" said Dr. Moon with a cackle. "Isn't that the most delicious feeling of helplessness? You look so tired already. Don't fight it, now. Just let my beautiful drugs sing you to sleep. A nice little lullaby..."

Toshiro's efforts to try to shake the IV off had turned into a desperate struggle against the urge to give in and go to sleep. He was so exhausted, and he could feel his mind zoning in and out, his eyelids threatening to close. But he couldn't give in. 

"Don't worry, you'll be sedated, but not entirely unconscious. We can't have you fully under for brain surgery, you know."

The shock of adrenaline forced his eyes back open. Fuck. Anything but that.

"No need to panic, it's not a lobotomy. We don't use ugly words like that here. And my methods are far more precise," she said, as Toshiro's heart raced. "I'm just going to... slow you down. Make you more malleable. Easily influenced, let's say. And at only a small cost to your intelligence."

His half-asleep mind woke up enough to panic. Suddenly, he could move. He felt strength in his arm again, enough strength to try and shake free of the IV line that would be the end of him.

He had to get it out at any cost. If he didn't, when he next woke up, he might be some stupefied henchman to his archnemesis, his faculties cut out and left on the floor of her lair. A fate far worse than death -- at least in death, he'd be remembered as a hero. Not remembered as a drooling, dull-witted minion who used to be a hero, cut down by one of his former comrades.

No, he couldn't allow that.

His powers responded, and he willed his super speed to vibrate his arm hard enough to loosen the tape, to dislodge the needle. As soon as he got rid of the threat of the drug, he could break free of the bonds and escape.

"Oh, dear," said Dr. Moon. "Katie, be a dear and take the fight out of our guest again."

Toshiro's eyes widened just before he felt the stun weapon rumble through his body. His hold over his power slipped, his limbs sinking back onto the table. Disoriented and unable to move, the sedative quickly took hold of him once again.

"There, there." The doctor replaced the tape on the IV line. "Just relax, go to sleep, and it will all be over soon. Poor, helpless hero."

He groaned weakly, Dr. Moon's evil grin fading from sight as his vision tunneled.

"He's almost out. Finish preparation in the operating room," she said over her shoulder, before turning back to him. She leaned in close and whispered in his ear, running a hand through his hair. "If all goes well, you won't be waking up as yourself ever again," she cooed. "You're going to go to sleep, and I'm going to win."

Her voice sounded muffled, from far away, and his tongue was too thick and clumsy to respond back.

"Go to sleep. Just go to sleep..."

----

I've been struggling a bit with writing and the Febuwhump prompts looked delicious, so I decided to do a few of them!

New Bookseller chapter soon, promise.

[alyswritings]

Wisdom Teeth

Request: Hi love could I request a rudy pankow x sister reader she like 16 or 17 where she gets her wisdom teeth out and after the surgery she is very emotional and Rudy takes care of her thank you

Rudy Pankow x sister!reader

Summary: Y/N gets her wisdom teeth out.

Warnings: none really

a/n: thank you for the request! hope you all enjoy!

(gif not mine)

"Okay, Y/N, I have to take your brother to soccer practice, so Rudy's gonna take you to get your wisdom teeth out." Her mom says.

"Wh-- what? Why?" Y/N asks.

"I just told you why. Your dad's busy, he's the only one that can take you." She says.

"What, am I so bad?" Rudy asks.

"No, but mom won't record me and use it for blackmail." Y/N grumbles.

"I'm appalled you'd think I would do anything of the sort." Rudy puts his hand on his chest. Y/N rolls his eyes. "Okay, I-I may record you, but zero blackmail. Promise. I'm nicer than that."

"Are you?" Y/N questions.

"Yes." Rudy says. "Who let you go nuts when hitting Henning with pillows after he stuck gum in your hair?"

"You." She remembers.

"Exactly. See? You are safe in my hands." Rudy promises, patting her on top of the head.

- - -

They're in the waiting room and Rudy is mindlessly flipping through a magazine.

"You good?" Rudy asks, glancing at her.

"Mm-hmm." Y/N nods.

"Not nervous?" Rudy asks.

"Nope." She shakes her head.

"Then, uh... why has your leg been shaking for the past five minutes?" Rudy asks.

Y/N looks down at her leg, immediately stopping.

"I didn't get all my energy out earlier." Y/N says, pulling her leg onto the seat and hugging it to her chest.

"You'll be fine, squirt. You go in, they numb you up, send you unconscious, then when you wake up, you're hopefully super entertaining while loopy and I get a good laugh today. Zero pain." Rudy says. "We'll get mom or dad to deal with all the blood and changing gauze out and stuff cause I sure as hell ain't doing that."

"What, you don't love me?" Y/N asks.

"Not enough for that." Rudy grimaces.

"Y/N Pankow." A nurse calls.

Y/N immediately looks up to Rudy, a scared look in her eyes.

"You'll be okay." He quietly assures. "I'll be right here when you get out." He promises, kissing her on the head.

- - -

Rudy is talking to the nurse who is explaining what Y/N can eat and other things to take care of her. He looks up when he sees movement and a nurse leads Y/N out into the waiting room.

"Oh. Wow. You look, um... unhappy." Rudy comments, seeing the upset look on her face.

"They took my teef." Y/N pouts, putting her hands on her cheeks.

"Yeah, but that's okay. They just took your teeth cause the teeth were hurting you." Rudy says.

"But they're my teeth!" She cries.

"Okay." Rudy mumbles as she falls against him and he wraps his arm around her. The nurse gives Rudy some papers about information and after Rudy leads Y/N out.

"I want my teef back!" Y/N cries.

"Hey, you got 'em in a little box. When you're sober and got more brain cells you can decide if you wanna keep them." Rudy says.

"They took my brain cells?" Y/N panics.

"No. No, no, no, squirt, they-- they just took your wisdom teeth. The drugs took your brain cells." Rudy says.

"What?!"

"No. No, I-I'm sorry. You're fine. I promise." Rudy says.

"I want my teddy bear." She cries as Rudy helps her into the passenger seat.

"Okay, we-- we can get you your teddy bear when we get home." Rudy tells her. She slouches in the seat a little, pouting. Rudy buckles her up before shutting the door and getting in the driver's seat.

Rudy is driving and Y/N has mostly just been babbling to herself. Rudy glances over when he hears her sniffle.

"Y/N? Hey, what's wrong?" Rudy asks.

"I don't know." She sobs.

Rudy glances at her, pulling into the parking lot of a store. He puts the car in park before unbuckling and turning to her.

"What's up?" He asks.

"Growing up is scary." She cries.

"Uh... I-- yeah, okay." Rudy mumbles.

"I just wanna go back to being five and playing with my dolls and soccer with you guys." Y/N says, tears streaming down her face. "Being a teenager is stupid."

"C'mere." Rudy pulls her into a hug as much as he can over the center console. Her head rests on his chest, his hand on her head, lightly scratching her head. "I know it's scary and freaky... terrifying. But it's not always the worst thing. There's some good stuff. Maybe you're clueless now, but you'll figure it out someday. Besides, you got mom and dad and me... plus your least two favorite brothers." He smile a little.

Y/N pulls away, sniffling, and she reaches up, squishing his cheeks with one of her hands.

"I love you." She tells him.

Rudy softly laughs, pulling her hand away from his face.

"I love you, too, squirt." Rudy ruffles her hair. He wipes her tears before kissing her on the forehead. "And you wanna know the good thing about wisdom teeth removal?"

"What?" She sniffles.

"You get to eat all of the ice cream in the world." Rudy states. "Hmm?" Y/N smiles and nods. "So we go home, we change your gauze out, get some ice cream, and watch whatever the hell you want.

"Wizard of Oz?" Y/N asks.

"Wizard of Oz while you're doped up on pills? Yeah, no, should be fun." Rudy mumbles to himself.

- - -

They get home and Rudy helps Y/N to the couch, gently setting her down on it.

"All right." Rudy sets up the pillows for her to lay down when she wants to.

"My mouth hurts." Y/N frowns.

"Yeah, and that's what these goodies are for." Rudy takes the bottle of pills out of his pocket and shakes them. "Not too good, though. Only good for however long you're recovering from wisdom teeth. Then you're cut off."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Don't become a drug addict." Y/N mumbles.

Rudy gives her a couple of pills and a glass of water and she downs them.

"All right, uh... we're the only ones home so... I gotta change your gauze out." Rudy says, grimacing a little.

"You don't love me enough, though." Y/N whines.

"Yeah, well, sometimes life is a bitch." Rudy says, shrugging. "Okay, open your mouth. No biting, please."

He gently pries Y/N's mouth open and grimaces in disgust as he takes the bloodied gauze out.

"Oh, my God! I'm dying!" Y/N panics seeing the amount of blood.

"No. No. No, you're not dying. This is a perfectly acceptable amount of blood." Rudy promises.

"I don't wanna die, Ru." Y/N whines.

"You're not dying. I promise." Rudy tells her. He throws the gauze away. "Okay. Fresh, new, clean cotton balls. Come on." He gently holds her jaw open with one hand while carefully sticking the gauze in her mouth.

"There we go." Rudy pats her on the head. He washes his hands before putting The Wizard of Oz in.

"Okay. You all set?" Rudy asks her and she nods. "All right." He mumbles, sitting next to her. Y/N leans closer to him, cuddling into his side. Rudy wraps his arm around her, kissing her on the head before resting his cheek against her head.

Taglist: @glxwingrxse @venomsvl @wildieflower @aliciacat20 @allyson15 @gabbylovesreading @itsmaneskinbitch @mrvlxgrl @star-wars-lover @champomiel @ironmaiden1313

[danaduchy]

Johnny paces the room like a tiger in a cage; in times like this, he regrets his decision to quit smoking. To be honest, he didn't expect that call; it's been so long, he was on the verge of giving up hope of hearing from V again. Luckily, he was wrong; V called him as soon as he was awake, his voice still hoarse from lack of use. V would need some time to adjust to life without his implants, but the fact that he gets to live is the best news he's heard since he awoke in Vik's clinic. It took him a lot of time to stop talking to V every time he awoke; he was used to always having him around. Johnny wonders just how much of their minds were blended together when Alt separated them for good.

Walking past the mirror, he throws the look at himself; his new look started to feel familiar now. Left hand back in place, completely organic, which, to his surprise, took him quite a while to get used to, though he still felt like he started to play differently. He looks younger too; his new body is several years younger, and his organs are still not damaged by the amount of alcohol and drugs he used to take back in the day. He still had no clue what Arasaka was doing with his genetic material and somehow thinks he would sleep better not knowing. He argued when V offered to help him out; there is no way in hell he would've let him make a deal with Arasaka, but things worked out without their involvement in the end, though it almost costed V his own life. Kid was always stubborn, but that was the reason he liked him; he reminded him of himself sometimes. Johnny didn't know the full story; his last memory was back in Makoshi, when V stopped him from going with Alt and he got written down on another chip. The next time he regained consciousness, he was lying down on the coat in Vik's clinic, and V was gone. Their separation left extensive damage on his brain, and he couldn't delay any longer; his only remaining option was to contact Reed and request the surgery he had been promised.

There's a knock at the door, and he hurries over, ready to finally meet the person who became the most important part of his sorry life. The only reason he's still here. Much to his astonishment, he realizes that he has never actually seen V in person. Being stuck in his head, he could only see him in mirrors and other reflective surfaces, but never face-to-face. He knew what living as him felt like, how his knee sometimes ached after the long run, and how he liked some food that never tasted the same after Johnny got his own body. He saw some of his old memories that now felt almost like his own; he felt V's emotions, from anger and fear when they met to the warm affection in the end.

"Hey, Johnny," grins V, troubles forgotten for a moment as he comes closer and offers him his hand, trying to act cool, which makes Johnny roll his eyes and pull him in, wrapping an arm around V's shoulder.

"Welcome back, Vincent," whispers he next to his ear, knowing he's the only one who's allowed to call him that. The last person who could bled out in his arms — something else they have in common. V looks different from what he remembers; he clearly lost some weight and looks small and fragile, his own clothes looking a bit big on him, but he's here, Johnny finally feels as though he has regained a missing piece of himself.

[punkboyjack]

The shit lie of SRS in Iran

So it's a something stuck in my brain ( and my life ) that I think people need to know about it is the thing about LGBTQ+ people in Iran especially T because I'm trans and it's little too much complicated in iran

Bing trans in Iran has some benefits in look but it's a lie

We are known as mentally ill people

We have the same problems as any other LGBTQ+ person in the world but with a higher rate

Most of the time, they give strong psychedelic drugs and hormones to trans children ( or just LGBT childrens )

And I was so paranoid about it that I wouldn't take any of the psychiatrists' pills when I was depressed (my parents don't know that I just got better somehow and no one doubt about it)

The Iranian government also monitors online transgender communities, often subjecting them to censorship, and police routinely arrest trans people

Unfortunately most Iranian parents like boys so trans woman's are badly treated almost 92% of trans women in Iran faced verbal or emotional violence and over 70% had faced physical violence

And the rate of murder and attempted suicide among trans people in Iran is high (mostly trans women).

and that really sad bcz one of the trans woman's that a used to know have Ben send to who knows where for the military training by her dad because ( HE was not man enough)

1_pre surgery is hell : we go on a all girl / all boy schools and I think it's like Catholic schools over there

And people don't respect us we mostly have problem finding friends we don't have the From the social point of view, it is almost impossible to identify ourselves as transgender because the government has strictly separated men and women. I didn't really know what my problem was until I was 13 years old

Worst and most important part is telling our parents that we are trans and they should support us because all the work of the license is done with the consent of the family and even one of Iranian actors (Maziar Lorestani) had to wait 56 years until his father passed away and he was finally able to take HRT just think about it you are a 56 years old person a total mature and you can't do it without your father permission and don't forget they are totally free to rather kill you or throw you at the streets to rot

2_ the surgery is chipper here (it's a lie ) -> we spent Soo much money and time ( and mental health) on permission to do surgery and most of people who do this surgeries are not even have expertise in this work And they have long-term side effects that are not good at all

first submitted to a long and invasive process

including virginity tests ( idk whyyy)

formal parental approval ( I told you)

, psychological ( it's just the worst part you can't imagine how terrible this psychologists are )

inspection by the Family Court ( like a god damn criminal )

If we don do the HRT step by step we are basically nothing to them and Thay don't give a fuck about us unless we did something wrong or something and then we are basically dead as hell

Like let's say you are a heterosexual trans men who don't want to do a surgery and you have girlfriend who loves you and respect's you

Will no you don't you are just a lesbian to them and will if they found out what's between your legs you and your gf are going to be executed I'm not joking

3_After surgery, is hard as hell : discrimination, from the law, the state, and from the people around us

Given the lowest quality of hormone therapy, we usually do not have reliable sources for it . Surgery under the hands of non-specialists causes dangerous side effects, and if we are imprisoned, we will no longer get hormones

And not so fun fact : Most of the gay people in Iran are recognized as transgender and they have to tell us about the process because otherwise they will be executed. For the government, changing their gender of poor gay people shows a better face than killing them

And yeah rest of your gay life you are just unfortunate person stuck in a person of your own body

Bruh I read it all over and I'm not even close to the realty it's too much

[lasersheith]

Just got done at the ophthalmologist and my optic nerve swelling and palsy is totally gone 🥳🥳

[x-fantasy-is-my-reality-x]

Muscle Heads: Ohma x Raian

Chapter 5: Meat Gazer

Raian had a bad habit. Well, he had a lot of bad habits but this one bothered Ohma the most. Not that he wasn’t used to seeing naked men of course, but like most of the other Kengan fighters he wasn’t particularly pleased when another man decided to stare at his dick when he was trying to take a piss. 

Unfortunately for him, Raian was a meat gazer. Not in a sexual way (most of the time), but he just really liked to fuck with people and through experience found that this was one of the most effective ways.

(Via military terms: A piss test observer to make sure you aren’t faking clean piss on a piss test, but often times they’re just trying to look at your dick because they like it. -VETTV)

Kure Raian was not beyond voyeurism. Frankly, nothing was beyond him. If it was nasty he was probably into it, with very few exceptions.

Rihito had already been an unfortunate victim.

When asked, the beefhead will vehemently deny that anything happened that fateful day in the Kengan tournament, but he could still feel Raian’s cold ass hands on his dick every now and then when he had to go to a public urinal. 

He had also developed a habit of fugitively looking over his shoulder every time he heard footsteps behind him in the bathroom. 

The first time Ohma had experienced it was on an early Spring morning shortly after he had moved into the Kure residence. 

He had still been woozy and exhausted from all the drugs they had pumped into his system for his heart surgery and was unusually mellowed, so the lapse in awareness wasn’t all his fault. 

The bright light of the bathroom burned his eyes, forcing him to squint and look away. The door was cracked open. A mistake he wouldn’t soon forget.

His fingers worked at the drawstring of his shorts, abnormally clumsy. Groaning, he turned off the lights after letting his shorts fall to his ankles, eyes hurting from the light. The only sliver of illumination came from the entrance.

Sighing, he felt his bladder slowly deflating as he began relieving himself.

Then he sensed it.

A dark, malicious presence, and a warm weight on his shoulder. Something rough and firm wrapped around his dick. 

Ohma’s eyes shot open, his reflection gazing back at him in shock through the mirror.

He wasn’t alone.

The low light was enough to highlight spiky, light-blond hair and broad, rolling shoulders. 

For a long second Ohma stood still, muscles tense like a spring on the verge of action as his brain struggled to catch up to his body. Black, glinting eyes flitted quickly from his cock to his face, then back to his still-pissing appendage. 

He was so casual about it that Ohma felt his brain short-circuiting. Is this bastard really…

A raspy chuckle finally broke him out of his stupor, and the static energy that had been festering inside him boiled over like a volcano. He flung his arm back, twisting his body as he tried to shove Raian off only to feel an intense tugging pain in his groin that made him groan through tightly clenched teeth. 

Raian hadn’t let go, and when Ohma tried bucking him off he had kept his death grip on his dick. Hissing, he did his best to pry Raian’s cold, clammy fingers off without accidentally clawing the now pulsating flesh. Whether it was from pain or pleasure he didn’t know and didn’t care to find out.

“What the hell is wrong with you, you shithead?!” Ohma roared, shoving the cackling devil to the ground and stomping on his chest. He felt a shred of satisfaction as Raian wheezed, though he seemed thoroughly unaffected by the blow. 

“Jus’ investigating,” Raian sneered up at him, shoving his leg off. 

Ohma barely had a chance to open his mouth before Raian barreled into him and out the door, laughing hysterically as if he just told the funniest joke he had ever heard. His head thudded painfully against the tile and the sound of clay splitting echoed in his ears. 

The door to the bathroom hung precariously on its broken hinges, and Ohma was helpless to do anything except lay staring at the ceiling in shock. His heart rate was elevated in a way that was vaguely worrying, but right now that was frankly the last thing on his mind. 

He was gonna pound that bastard straight to hell in the morning, but for now, he needed to find some ice for his dick.

[thywintwobird]

Fun Q!foolish facts:

- has been to hell

- tried to order blood at a pizza place

- did failed brain surgery on himself (had to be resuscitated)

- is allergic to two wheeled vehicles

- is not allergic to radiation

- does a lot of drugs (coke and jelly mostly)

[whysojiminimnida]

I Got Tea Spilled On Me (TL;DR) ft. Kev, X, AND ME ON SOME BULLSHIT and People Who Know Things

DISCLAIMER: this entire post was drafted on at least two different dates and IT IS A WHOLE MESS OF OPIATES and so dates, times, even events are probably mixed up like an overshaken martini. I apologize. LET'S READ MY HORRIBLE BRAIN NOW: I got tea spilled on me and I was not gonna mention it. See, confidentiality is a thing, as is privacy, and I have been in the midst of cancer-y type major surgery and on SUPER DRUGS so I felt it unwise. Believe me when I say I was unwise to the tune of many purchased items, so I hadda keep my trap shut. (I may still be on drugs at the time of this writing I didn't expect so many drugs. Be patient with me plskthx) KEVIN CAME TO SEE ME Y'ALL! Bitch flew over here and took a couple days to come give me ALL THE HUGS and ALL THE KISSES and can I just say that he is quite frankly super-ass annoying when he's being Gay Oppa. We think Jungkook has a hyung kink? NO THIS GUY OMG SO MUCH TESTOSTERONE STOPPP ANYWAY

We have decided "Jiminesque" is my new favorite adjective. BUT YOU DON'T CARE YOU ARE HERE FOR TEA AND I'MMA GIVE YOU SOME I WROTE THE FOLLOWING A FEW WEEKS AGO LET ME LIVE:

So okay. We know there was a recent Hobi JITB party but what you did not know was X was there and Knows Things and so I was like "give me all the gossip" and he was drunkish and feeling kindly so. Here's what I HEARD but this is a no sources no receipts household WRITE THAT DOWN AND REMEMBER IT

Also I am currently high as shit on legal drugs because doctors be doctoring and then I'll be high for like a week in a few days because ya girl is coming home from the hospital with a morphine pump PRAY FOR ME ANYWAY it went like this:

Jungkook was fairly drunk. I mean this goes without saying, everyone was drunk, some of y'all have seen the guy who was literally pouring what might have been decent bourbon down his own throat straight from the bar, you do the math. But Koo was having a Good Time. Jimin drank more but got less hammered. I feel like it usually goes down like that, Jimin seems to have a shark's liver or something. He got the good booze gene and JeiKei got the gene for holy water sweat.

Please remember that in Korea, this is not unusual or even undesirable behavior. It's just how they do things, there. Unclench, if need be. Drop the pearls, Mildred, it's fine.

Everyone had fun except Yoongi who wasn't there obviously.

The Jeon-Parks did arrive together, although they entered the party slightly seperately. It's hard to explain but I guess everyone got styled at work at the same time but didn't all go into the room at the same time? Anyway, once they were in the same room it was all bets off and they stayed in each other's orbit, Satellite Jeon in full effect. X called it "business manners but also not entirely business", whatever the hell that means.

As nearly as I can tell, that means that they tried to stay in their own space and, um, failed. I feel like this is probably true based on the pics I saw. But what about that bit in the corner though, I asked, and I was told

That it was definitely a bit of an intimate moment but it was totally not the only one. It just happened to be caught on camera and SO DID SOME OTHER MOMENTS WE HAVEN'T SEEN YET. Because let's be honest, cameras everywhere. But this one: Jungkook walked up as Jimin was talking and working on about his severalth glass of champagne and Koo just not even bothered slid his hand right where it goes, I guess, onto Jimin's waist and leaned in to talk to his man like it wasn't a thing. And nobody in the room blinked BECAUSE THIS IS NORMAL.

So I go, SO "you're telling me that the Jeon Parks are not exactly hiding things anymore" and X GOES LIKE THIS

"THEY DON'T NEED TO HIDE AROUND THEIR FRIENDS, SILLY" and "literally most of the guest list already knows this, it's not like a super secret in the industry, DUH"

Well FINE just tell me what we already knew then Xie DAMN So I go 'but Eunwoo" and X just shut my ass DOWN.

"This is normal skinship, GOD YOU PEOPLE" the bitch you peopled me and that is mean. Kevin told me to "stop being so white jagi-ah" LIKE HOW but FINE it's all good, we talk like this to each other.

THEY HAD ARSON CANDLES KIDS. ARSON. CANDLES. So I asked about the Taekook vibe and, like, there were a few friendly moments at the party:

But beyond what one could possibly rudely refer to as *choke* fanservice for the cameras, there was very little maknae line interaction on the evening in question. Now the way X put it (he didn't say fanservice that was all me) it sounded kinda sus and I said as much. And it's... Apparently, kids, Taehyung has a (GASP) girlfriend?? FOR REAL. And she's famous (but not at the party tho) and she has been the subject of rumors as recently as May. And it is, also a total rumor, fairly serious. So between that and the reported data that Tae has been a little bit of a little shit where the Jeon-Park household is concerned, there was a touch of freeze happening at this party. Which was noticeable because usually Jimin and Tae are pretty tight regardless, but not on this night. I have no receipts for this -- it could be bullshit -- but the way X was talking I think it's worth watching anyway. MAYBE I SHOULDN'T HAVE SAID THAT IDK IDK I'M NOT POSTING THIS ANYWAY I AM NOT A TAE ANTI I LOVE HIM I WANT HIS SURPRISINGLY HETERO ASS TO BE HAPPY LET HIM LIVE HAPPILY AND GET OFF MY DICK OKAY (Psst look at the girlfriend):

I'm not the first person to mention it, either. They've apparently been a thing since before the LA concerts is all I'm saying.

ANYWAY WHERE WAS I So Jimin and Jungkook were hanging out with their friends, and holding hands in corners and kinda being boyfies but they got noticed a bit and told to CHILL BRO so they chill bro'd. X says they had a pretty good time even with the orbiting and it was a really good party. Jimin was VERY popular. Lots of selfies with the hoi polloi.

SO I GO "But but but what about Hobi? IT WAS HIS DAMN PARTY. AND WHO THE HELL IS IRENE KIM ANYWAY"

"Oh Irene's great, they're besties, they hang out" SO I GO "You sure that's all it is because your girl looks happy" and he goes "They're honestly just buds. She's like his you if Hobi was a bisexual Kev" and, well, okay. That makes perfect sense to me. WAIT. BACK UP. SAY AGAIN. HOBI'S OPENLY BISEXUAL? "Hobi's always been bisexual, jeezus. Calm down, this is not exactly new information," says Man With Apparently Normal Information I Do Not Have Access To On A Usual Day. Like we all been knew I guess but I don't know how to function with an actual man on the inside. SHUT UP I DIDN'T MEAN IT LIKE THAT. THAT'S IT I AM DONE I CAN'T BE HERE ANYMORE. I'll see y'all when I'm actually allowed to speak on things.

[shywhumpauthor]

So right now I have (gore cw nothing overly descriptive—heavy medical whump) vaguely from least to most extreme. Mix and match the below as you see fit, it’ll probably happen.

Basic medical tests (MRI, CT, basic diagnostics)

Blood draws

Slightly more severe testing (lumbar punctures, bone marrow testing, stuff that’s painful)

Sleep/food/water deprivation

Various drug trials

Stress positions

Drowning

Testing chemicals

Blunt force trauma (mild and extreme)

Purposeful incorrectly healing an injury (like putting a cast improperly around a broken bone without setting it so the bone heals wrong)

Burns (mild and extreme)

Broken bones

Minor surgeries

Developing poisons/antidotes

Forced to swallow inedible objects (such as magnets, glass, seeing how they can heal from that)

Small-scale amputation (like the tip of a finger)

Large-scale amputation (entire limbs)

Lobotomy

Extreme surgeries without anesthetic

Craniotomy

Organ removal

Let me know with any more ideas I’ll update as needed!

At some point the villain will develop a drug that will stall the Whumpee’s powers, and then they’ll do all this stuff again, and see how long after the injury is inflicted their healing will begin after)

Basically anything that can be done will be done. In the name of science, of course. Definitely not sadism.

Pretty much the limits I have on the Whumpee’s power is so long as their brain/brain stem is intact they can heal. If they are the medical equivalent to brain dead or worse, they can not heal. So long as their brain is functioning they can recover. Organs take a while to regenerate, long time. Like if they got their heart cut out they wouldn’t live, but if they lost a lung they’d be able to live long enough for it to regenerate.

The rate of healing depends on severity and energy—if have high energy and it’s something small like a scrape, it’ll be gone in a minute or two. Same injury, but they’re exhausted, maybe five or ten minutes. Pump them full of adrenaline and serotonin and cut off a finger, give it a few hours. Keep them awake and starved for days before, it’ll be more like a week. Their healing will continue regardless of the physical effects—even if it’s ultimately at their expense.

I don’t know what the hell im doing with this. If anyone has ideas or suggestions on any medical stuff behind this please let me know I’m making this up as I go.

[foone]

The rain was coming down in sheets, and it was clearly irritating Rudapedi, putting him on edge... Or keeping him on edge, I guess. It had been only minutes since someone tried to kill us, after all.

"why would they need to transport the stolen weapons across the country, if their final destination is another planet? Couldn't they just warp them out like they warped in?" asks Jay from the driver's seat.

Rudapedi answers with the tone of a college professor who knows they already taught this. "no. When you're going between planets, you have to make use of existing rifts, and they're in fixed locations on the planet's surface. Generally you'd just do a local teleport between them, but I imagine the moonstone caskets made that too difficult to manage, so they resorted to just driving them across the surface manually. Your world sure makes that easy, after all. You know half your entry in the compendium is about these 'automobiles' you're got?"

Rudapedi turns to the car window and all the raindrops pouring down it, looking out with an expression somehow mixing boredom and unease. "And you keep assuming they were stolen. I don't know the details but I would bet that wasn't how they were acquired. The Kalic Empire has deep pockets, Jay. They don't need to steal. I imagine they found whoever is in charge of these weapons and offered them more gold than they could ever spend, or a permanent vacation trip off-world away from the troubles of this rainy planet, to an endless beach where the sun never sets... Or maybe they offered health? I'm sure there's at least one upper commander in your military who is dying slowly of something you can't cure, or has a spouse or child in a similar situation."

Rudapedi is sitting up now, gesturing with a lot of jabbing pointing motions, most in Jay's direction. "I've been here long enough to learn about your medical techniques. Don't get me wrong, they're amazing. Brain surgery? Those... Magnet-things that can see inside people? And your drugs would shame any potion-maker back home. You truly are masters of this craft, far beyond anything in the empire or any unaligned world I've ever heard of.

But you know why we don't have those kinds of abilities? We've never needed them."

Jay doesn't let the bearded wizard's vaguely accusatory tone get to him. "No, I don't suppose you would. If you can just wave a wand and fix someone's broken leg, why invent the splint and the X-ray machine?"

Rudapedi, for his part, is back to looking out the window, with the expression of a cat that begged to be let out only to find it has snowed for the first time in its little life and the backyard it wanted to play in has been covered in a thick blanket of white fluffy nonsense.

The continual beating of rain against the top of the car has turned into sharp "pings" as hail bounces off. "what the hell is that? Why is it BOUNCING?" Rudapedi asks, and you can feel the fuzz on "hell", like the translation spell is underlining it with a red squiggle of inaccuracy in your mind.

"That's hail", you respond. "sometimes when it's cold enough the rain freezes into little balls of ice while they're falling. This is pretty small, all things considered. When they get bigger, they can cause a lot of damage."

Rudapedi's managing to combine his expressions into one only describable as "rapt disgust". He says nothing in reply, only muttering something under his breath that even untranslated you can tell is an oath that's vaguely blasphemous. You wonder how it can go untranslated. Is the spell skipping out on speech that's too quiet or does it filter swears?

The hail continues, only getting louder. With the conversation clearly over (and it would be difficult to talk over the hail without shouting, anyway) you pull on your headset and start reciting words to your tablet, not letting this magical gift of vocabulary go to waste.

[noisilyeclecticmilkshake]

Nothing but Sleep. (3)

Pt. 1 - Pt. 2

It had been a week since the rescue mission. Caretaker’s efforts had been entirely focused on Sidekick. They were found covered in wounds, delirious and traumatized. It had meant days of trying to convince Sidekick she was safe, days of starting treatment, only to have to stop before gaining any real progress, and judging by the marks covering her arms and neck, a sedative would have only made it worse. She was just so… different. Caretaker was exhausted, he needed a break, and he needed to check on Whumpee.

Whumpee heard the knock, but it was a good minute before they really registered it enough to pause their game. They stumbled their way over to the bedroom door and had to fumble for the doorknob, but eventually got it open.

“Whumpee- Are you okay!” It wasn’t really a question, and it became less of a question the longer Whumpee looked at them with a blank expression like their brain was on pause. They had large, dark circles under their eyes and their aura was almost completely gone, just sickly dark green wisps hanging off them.

“Mm-ye…” was all Caretaker got as an answer before Whumpee turned around and retreated back into their room. They got another energy drink out of their mini-fridge. They would have to order more soon. 

“What… What happened?” Caretaker was staring at a semi-circle of haphazardly tossed energy drinks and the Whumpee sized hole at the center. The only other sign that Whumpee had done anything in the last week was a game controller and the matching paused game screen to go with it.

“Mm-smthin’ game. Um, buzy.” Another slurred sentence as the crack sizzle of an energy drink being opened broke through the room. They chugged it in one go and grabbed another.

“When was the last time you slept?” Caretaker could hazard a guess at a week. But if that was the case they didn’t understand how Whumpee was even standing.

“Can’ slee… Game ‘s fun.” They attempted to step over the moat of energy drinks but just ended up sliding them under the bed and crushing a few as they stumbled/sat their way down to the floor and grabbed the controller.

Caretaker walked over and kneeled in front of Whumpee, trying to meet their eyes. Their unfocused, bloodshot, puffy eyes. This must have been hell for them, and Caretaker hadn’t been there.

“Whumpee look at me.” It was a gentle voice. “What did Whumper do to you?”

“Nothin’” They just looked past Whumpee and resumed the game.

Whumpee had said the same thing when they found them in one of Villains cells. Caretaker had been relieved, there wasn’t a mark on them. No cuts, no scratches, not even a bruise. Their eyes were red and puffy like they’d been crying but that was it. And it looked as though they’d been taken care of. Fed, given water, hell, the bags under their eyes from the week of planning the recon mission were gone. Caretaker gave them a clean bill of health and sent them on their way. Their aura was far more than trouble, but they couldn’t expect much after having to hear Sidekicks screaming every waking hour. Now they realized there was another reason.

“Whumpee, you hate energy drinks. I know you hate energy drinks, you’ve had Sidekick pinch you to wake you up so you wouldn’t have to drink them. Tell me what happened.” Caretaker was trying to be gentle but this was a shock to his system after dealing with Sidekick for so long. If anyone would just tell him what happened he could help but Whumpee didn’t take their eyes off the tv screen.

“Why aren’t you sleeping?”

That got a reaction. Whumpee’s head snapped to Caretaker, and he could see fear in their eyes. 

“You're… scared of sleeping?” It came out reluctantly. He should have guessed. Villain probably messed with their power, and if they couldn’t help but dreamwalk to Sidekicks nightmares… Damn. It didn’t explain everything, there were no scars to indicate surgery, no marks to indicate any experimental drugs, but it explained why they wouldn’t sleep, and that was what he needed to tackle right now.

Caretaker reached for the controller, besides the caffeine, it was probably the only thing keeping them up. But the glassy look in their eyes was replaced with sudden alertness as Caretaker’s hand moved into their field of vision.

“NO!” They were breathing hard from the mix of artificial and real adrenaline now pumping through their system, their body was having a hard time keeping up. “Just leave.” The words were extended and over pronounced, like Whumpee was leaning on the syllables. They yanked the controller far away from Caretaker’s hand as he reached for it again. “I can’- I CAN’T!” 

Tears had started to form in Whumpee’s eyes.

“Plees’ Don’ make me sleep agin’ I c-” Their words were cut off with a wave of vertigo, and Caretaker watched as Whumpee lost balance from their sitting position and fainted. He tried to pull Whumpee to his lap, into a more traditional sleeping position. They had fallen over with their legs still crossed, but Whumpee was already waking up with heavy breaths and murmured panics.

“N-mm. sto’ pls’ sto’. I can’t. Hurts.” 

Whumpee had gone through this many times over the course of the week, sometimes they would even pass out into the hellish’nightmares’ for a full minute before being able to claw their way back to consciousness. They just pushed themself up, ignoring the world as it tilted and went to grabb the other drink. It took them a couple tries but they finally grabbed the right one, only to have the entire bottle pulled from their hands as they were fumbling to get enough strength to lift the tab.

“I nee’ tha’. Gimm’” Their head was already pitching forward in staccatoed sleep again.

“No, what you need is rest.” He paused, Whumpee had looked at them like a scared puppy again. “Nightmares?” Whumpee just nodded.

“I have something that can help. It’ll knock you out.” Whumpee tried to move away, but they just ended up falling into a faux sitting position against the foot of their bed. 

“You won’t dream. It’s kind of like a coma. It’s not a permanent solution, but Whumpee…” Caretaker looked around the room again. “This is bad. And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry” Now it was Caretaker’s turn to tear up. “I should have checked on you sooner. I should have known.”

Whumpee just started crying again. This really was hell, their body was screaming at them to just rest, their legs cramps after being crossed for days on end, and their back was desperate for any type of support. Besides that their mind could barely focus long enough for them to really play the game, but the pain helped, the game helped, anything but sleep, anything but what they really craved.

“Do you want to try it?”

They could only faintly nod with all their strength. And they heard their door open again, it was something. Something new. Something that wasn’t the hell that was masquerading as their life. 

“Here.” Caretaker put three gummies Whumpee’s hand. “Try to chew them as much as you can, okay. You’re going to feel drowsy, but then you’ll just drop off.” 

Whumpee nodded and took the gummies, it had been a while since the last time they ate anything, they had tried, at first, but the fridge was easier to get to than the microwave. They tried to get up, but felt hands stop them.

“Let me help. You’re going to hurt yourself trying to move again, much less stand.” They were lifted in the air, weightless until they landed on something plush, much softer than the floor, the texture was nice too.

“Thnks, Care…” They didn’t even notice the drowsiness before they plunged into a dark empty unconsciousness.

“I’m sorry, Whumpee. It’ll get better though, I promise.” Caretaker could only run his hand through Whumpee’s hair, pushing it out of their face and away from their sweat covered forehead.