#dawn term

[lovegungenic]

TheQuickBrownFoxgenic / TQBFgenic flags. "TheQuickBrownFoxgenic (or TQBFgenic for short) is a xeno-origin relating [metaphorically or literally] to the 2008 speedcore artist The Quick Brown Fox, the music of The Quick Brown Fox, or the collaborators of The Quick Brown Fox."

TheQuickBrownFoxorma / TQBForma flags. "TheQuickBrownFoxorma (or TQBForma for short) is a variant of TheQuickBrownFoxgenic referring specifically to headmate origin, using the -orma suffix."

TheQuickBrownFoxdawn / TQBFdawn flags. "TheQuickBrownFoxdawn (or TQBFdawn for short) is a variant of TheQuickBrownFoxgenic referring specifically to sisasystem origin, using the -dawn suffix."

[sweetiebabielovie]

eddie joins

2k, daddy kink, praise kink, subspace, aftercare

“You like that, pretty girl?” Eddie whispers in your ear. With your position in his lap, he pulls back your knees even further against his. “You like it when your daddy fucks you like that?”

You can only whimper in response.

“She loves it, dontcha baby?” Steve grunts from above you. “Always takes my cock so well.”

It was too much. It was everywhere and everything all at once. And it was amazing.

“Pinch her nipples, Eddie.” Steve tells the boy holding you as sweat drips down his brow. “Her pretty tits get so sensitive.” His own pretty noises have you clenching around him, unable to control how your body reacts to him.

“These sensitive?” Eddie’s tone is almost condescending as his hands leave your knees in favor of your nipples, he pinches them roughly between his forefingers and thumbs. “He’s right though, prettiest tits I’ve ever seen. You should see ‘em from here, big boy. They jiggle every time you thrust. Pity I can’t reach down and bite them.”

Steve’s vocal, you’re plenty used to it. But Eddie? Eddie rambles. And it’s intoxicating.

“Daddy,” You whine. For what? You’re not entirely sure.

“Such a whiny little girl,” Steve pouts at you, “You want more?”

“Uh huh,” You nod, eyes squeezed shut. “More, more, please.”

“What d’you want, hun? Tell me. Use your words.” Steve pants. He’s got one hand on your knee and the other against the back of the couch you’re sitting on. “Be a good girl and use your words f’me.”

“My clit.” You beg. “Please, daddy.”

“Munson,” Steve looks at him, “Spank her clit for me, will ya?”

“Oh,” You hear the smirk painting his face, you don’t need to see it to know it’s there. “Slut likes it rough.”

You pout and furrow your brows. “No.” You shake your head against Eddie’s chest.

“Not a slut,” Steve speaks for you between thrusts, pretty eyes looking into yours reassuringly. “She’s a good girl. Isn’t that right?”

“Good girl, good girl.” You mumble as you nod. “Your good girl.”

“Oh, I’m sorry baby.” Eddie says as he kisses your temple, trying to rectify his mistake. “I’m sorry, you’re not a slut. You’re the best girl, I’m sorry.”

“Iss’okay.” You gasp. “You didn’t mean to, daddy. It’s okay.”

Eddie isn’t sure if he misheard you or if you misspoke, but the moniker makes his cock jump nonetheless.

“You want me to slap your clit, baby?” He asks, returning to Steve’s command. “Want me to make it hurt so good while daddy fucks you?”

“Yesyesyesyes. Please!”

“What was I thinking? Of course you’re a good girl, you use your manners so well.” His right hand leaves your nipple to reach downwards while his left hand stays put. “Didn’t know you two were into this kinda thing.”

“Don’t fuckin’ underestimate me, pretty boy.” Steve chuckles. He pulls back only slightly to stabilize himself as he brings the hand on the couch to your face. He strokes your cheeks so lovingly as he speaks. “You close, sweet girl?” You nod vehemently in response. “Eddie, I thought I told you to do something.”

“Your daddy’s a bossy pants, babygirl.” Eddie whispers in your ear conspiratorially. “Sir, yes sir.”

The hand that was unhurriedly circling your clit pulls away and comes back quickly, smacking your clit lightly. You let out a surprised ‘Oh’ at the hit.

“Come on, Munson.” Steve scoffs. “Our girl can handle much more than that. Harder.”

Another harsher hit comes down on your clit and your whole body jumps. “Oh!”

“You like that?” Eddie smiles, his surprise easily melting into excitement. “You want some more?”

“More.” You confirm. “Faster. Please.”

“Fuckin’ love it when you say please.” Steve growls as he thrusts into you faster. “Oh fuck. Eddie, please. Gonna cum.”

Eddie’s harsh swats at your clit grow faster and faster along with your and Steve’s moans.

“Daddy! Daddy gonna cum!” You squeal at the stimulation. “Please, please can I cum?”

“Just a bit longer, honey.”

You damn near cry at the refusal, but you’re a good girl and you always listen to your daddy.

“Come on, Steve. You won’t make the pretty girl wait, will you? You’ve been fucking her so good, she can’t help it.”

“So good, daddy. Always so good.” You nod along with Eddie.

“How much do you like it, sweet thing? How much do you like Steve’s big cock in your pussy, stretching you so wide?” Eddie’s goading Steve and you know it. But the way he pants at his words shows just how much he’s loving it. “It’s a miracle it even fits, it’s so big. You love daddy’s big cock filling you up?”

“Love it so much. Want him in me all the-all the time. Can never get enough.”

“Fuck!” Steve grunts as he spills himself inside of you. But he doesn’t stop his assault on your pussy, knowing you aren’t far behind him. “Fuck, fuck. Oh god. Come on, sweet girl. Come on, cum for me.”

“Come on, pretty girl.” Eddie moans, the scene in front of him almost too hot to handle. His hand smacks your clit even faster as you approach that precipice. “Cum for daddy.”

You tumble over the edge with a scream you barely recognize as your own.

It’s almost instant, the way you float away. Your eyes glaze over and you go limp in Eddie’s lap as the warmth of your post orgasmic haze washes over you.

“Oh, my sweet girl.” Steve murmurs as he gathers you into his arms, his soft cock slowly slipping out of your bullied hole. You unknowingly groan at the loss of him. “I know, I know. It’s okay.”

“Felt so good, daddy. Was so good, thank you.” You babble as your boyfriend dotes on you.

“It’s Steve, baby. Not daddy right now. Just Steve.”

“Steve.” You nod, nuzzling into his cheek. “My Stevie.”

“Yeah, baby. Your Stevie.” Steve smiles, completely lovesick. “Lay back, hun.”

Eddie watches in awe as Steve lays you down on the opposite end of the couch, his actions oh so loving. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands. His own need for aftercare makes him feel alienated. It’s his first time doing this with the two of you and he no longer knows his place in the equation. Should he leave now? Was this it? How awkward would it be if he started getting dressed-

“Eds,” Steve calls to him softly, breaking the ugly cycle of his thoughts. “Lick her clean for me?” He asks as he spreads your legs in Eddie’s line of sight.

“Really?” Eddie asks, both in surprise and exhilaration. Your pussy is a leaking mess in front of him and he can’t take his eyes off of it. Eddie’s cum from his previous round mixes with Steve’s and your juices and it paints a glorious picture. “It won’t be too much for her?”

“Just a bit.” Steve nods as he smooths out the hair stuck to your forehead. “But it brings her back. Be gentle, though. Kitten licks.”

Eddie lays down on his stomach between your legs and kisses your inner thighs as he settles in. He slowly inches towards your aching center. “Such a pretty pussy.” He whispers, placing a soft kiss to your puffy clit.

“The prettiest.” Steve agrees, he gathers Eddie’s hair out of the way for him and squeezes his shoulder gently. “I’ll be right back.”

Eddie languidly kisses and licks your folds, gathering all the evidence of the night on his tongue. He makes sure to be gentle, just like Steve said. He knows you’ve come back when your hands tangle in his hair. You gently tug him up by his roots and he obliges to the wordless command, crawling up into your embrace.

“Hey, pretty girl.” He smiles at you softly and positively glows when you smile back. “Feel good?” You nod and close your eyes, content. “Did so good, pretty. So good.”

“Thank you.” You peck his lips and he hums in gratitude. “You took care of me so well. Thank you.”

“My pleasure.” He grins, knowing that you caught onto the pun. “‘M sorry, by the way. For what I said.”

“No, Eddie.” You frown at him. “It’s okay, you didn’t know. I promise, it’s fine.”

“Okay,” He smiles softly and kisses you again, deeper this time. “I did good?”

“So good.” You nod at him, hands still tangled in his luscious locks. “Always knew you had a way with words, but damn.”

“Yeah?” He smiles pridefully.

“Mhm,” You hum and nod your approval. “Steve never finishes so quick.”

“He’s so easy to read.” He giggles.

“Tell me about it.” You laugh. “He gets this little furrow between his brows right here.” You thumb at the spot you’re referencing on Eddie’s forehead. Between the brows but a bit closer to the left one. “That’s when you know he’s close.”

“Stop exposing all my secrets.” Steve groans as he walks back into the living room. His arms are full of water bottles and a rogue pack of lemon biscuits he must have found in the back of the pantry. A towel wet with warm water hangs against his forearm like a butler in a fancy restaurant. “Gotta stay hydrated.”

“Thank you, Stevie.” You smile as you and Eddie sit up, your arms out in want of a water bottle. Steve hands you one and Eddie the other, placing his own and the biscuits on the coffee table.

“Lean back, baby.” Steve instructs Eddie, whose eyes stay on you as you guzzle your water.

“He means you, Eds.” You giggle as you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, reaching over for the biscuits.

Eddie’s eyes grow wide as he looks at Steve, who only nods at him and gently pushes his shoulders back. Steve gets down on the floor and situates himself between Eddie’s knees.

He gently drags the warm towel over Eddie’s still semi-hard cock and down along his balls. “Want me to take care of you?” Steve asks, eyes all round and sincere.

“No, that’s okay.” Eddie shakes his head. “Twice is more than enough for one night, three times would be greedy.”

“No such thing.” You shake your head as you dust off your hands from the biscuit you stuffed into your mouth, coming over to drape yourself against Eddie’s side. “You did so well for us today, Eddie baby. If you want one more, we won’t say no.”

“Yeah, promise.” Steve nods as he cleans up his own cum from Eddie’s stomach.

“No, no, I’m serious. I’m not shy, I’d tell you.” He shakes his head. “It’s too sensitive right now. Besides, he’ll go down in a couple minutes.”

“Alright, if you say so.” Steve sighs, shuffling on his knees to come in front of you. “You too, sweet girl. Lean back, let me assess the damage.”

“Always so nice to me, Stevie.” You smile as you listen to his instructions. “Almost like you love me or something.”

“Yeah,” Steve huffs in amusement, “Almost.” He drags the other side of the towel against your inner thighs, the rough fabric getting cooler by the second. He cleans up what Eddie didn’t get and then some. “All done.” He pats your thigh and gets up, grabbing your hand to pull you up with him. “Go to the bathroom, then meet in my room, yeah?”

“Okay.” You nod happily, pecking Steve on the cheek and Eddie on the head as you happily strut off.

“Come on, let’s go.” Steve grabs Eddie’s hand this time and drags him upstairs to the bedroom. It happens so fast, Eddie barely has the time to think himself back into that spiral.

By the time the boys are settled in bed, curled up around each other, both in a pair of Steve’s boxers, you’re back.

“Oh,” You pause as you take in their outfits. “I wanna be matching, too.” You decide, and turn to rummage in Steve’s drawers. The boy in question only chuckles at your antics. You quickly shuffle into a pair of blue plaid ones to complement Steve’s choice of red and Eddie’s choice of black before climbing into the bed, making a place for yourself between them.

You curl into Eddie and nuzzle your face into his neck, Steve quick to follow and sandwich you between the two of them, his arm thrown out across your waist and onto Eddie’s to pull him closer.

Eddie doesn’t know what tomorrow will bring, but right now, he can’t bring himself to care.

[enbuggsblurr]

A helpful flow chart for the entire endo and pro endo community

[ttrpgnoob]

If you are mad that Kipperlilly isn't getting a redemption (at least it isn't as set up as the other rat grinders) that's a little silly. Freshman year Penelope and Dayne were not given that chance, despite giving the same "just a teen who had some evil intentions brought out & honed in by a teacher" because it was obvious they had manipulated Ragh.

Kipperlilly murdered Buddy in front of Kristen, is now heavily implicated in orchestrating the murder/possesion of her entire party. I'm so sorry folks, she is just a tragic story of villainy.

[feelingtheaster99]

Oh my gosh Beardsley that was SO SMART to figure out the people whose blood crystallizes are the people who TURN DOWN being brought back to worship Ankarna god DAMN

[starscream-is-my-wife]

Thundercrackers legendary could be a dog legendary or thundurus

Latios came back eventually and Jetfire took a liking to latias (girldad lmao) but them being two bots that aren’t fighting in the frontlines of the war and having multiple legendary pokemon is really funny ngl, the sword and shield dogs are blue too... trainers have pokemon themes usually and TCs theme is just blue

both sides are like hey.. if you guys break up and want to rejoin the war who gets custody of those 👀

Wtf did not know that either, I usually categorize the mythical pokemon as the silly little guys!

[clarkgriffon]

BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER 7x01 | “Lessons” 

[wxlverinesxx]

I CANT WAIT TO SEE THE AMATEUR TMMR UGHHHHH. IM GONNA SPIDERMAN CRAWL ON THE WALLS AND LICK RAMI ON THE BIG SCREEN. IM GONNA GET ARRESTED FOR PUBLIC INDECENCY, PULLING A PEE WEE HERMAN FR!! THEY ASK WHERE MY PANTS ARE, I SAY: "I'm wearing camo I swear". IF THAT DONT WORK THAN MY CLOTHES HAVE A MIND OF THEIR OWN.

[felidaety]

✦ seperation anxiety disorder ...

pt: seperation anxiety disorder. end pt.

an alternate flag for seperation anxiety disorder .

pt: an alternate flag for seperation anxiety disorder. end pt.

colour meanings below! this flag can be referred to as the dawn sepad flag :)

tagging : @radiomogai @omiag-esp

flag id in alt text and under cut.

[flag id: a rectangular flag with six equal-width straight horizontal stripes. from top to bottom, the flag colours are indigo-black, slightly dull dark blue, warm yellow, orange, bright pink, and bright warm purple. end id.]

[pastel-peach-writes]

Face Paints | Aloy x Reader

╰┈➤ PLOT: With someone who wears intricate face paints such as Aloy, she needs someone to assist her, right?

╰┈➤ WARNINGS: Cursing, Not Proofread

⍣ ೋ Enjoy!⍣ ೋ

"Aloy," you breathed out. Your girlfriend had sat herself in front of a mirror with an absurd amount of paints and dyes scattered around her. She had a big white blob on her face and scribbled on her arms. What she was doing looked messy like an accident or like she used her body as a cloth between brushes.

With a shaky hand and her face even closer to the mirror, she huffed. "It's fine. I'm fine." The redhead used her other hand to stabilize the hand painting her face. Her jaw relaxed and her eyes grew wide in concentration.

You walked over, shaking your head as you saw how much of a mess she made on her skin. "You are anything but. Here." Sat in front of her, you pry the brush out of her hands and grab her paints.

"Hey, I was using that!"

"Yeah. Poorly." You cleaned the small brush with some water and wiped the remains on the cloth. Aloy huffed again, watching as you primed and prepared the brush for a more accurate painting session.

The girl was fine doing the paints herself. She was taught by Rost when she was younger and has done her own since then. She didn't need her partner to do it for her. Although, she did like the thought of being face-to-face with you. Or watching your face of concentration when you did the intricate designs on her arm.

Maybe you painting her wouldn't be all bad.

With the brush properly loaded with paint and water, you smiled up at her. You used the pad of your thumb to wipe away her previous attempts before resting the side of your pinky on her cheek. "It's gonna be cold so I'll need you to be still, okay?"

Aloy deadpanned, though a soft smile peeked through the corners of her mouth. "I know how to be still. This isn't my first face paint."

You shrugged, smiling wider due to her expression. "Oh, I know. I still need to preface you because what I'm going to do is so detailed and refined that it's going to take some time. So," you pressed the brush to the bridge of her nose. "Stay. Still."

Stay still, she did. For the most part, Aloy is pretty behaved. She only breaks the rules, what? Like, two to three times a day? And she only does it because she's trying to help people. Not for the hell of it. Aloy likes to call herself a rebel with a cause.

As you painted her face, Aloy stared into your eyes with her bright green eyes. Through the sparkle in your eye, Aloy could also see how concentrated you were. She didn't understand why you were adamant about doing her face paint. She's capable of doing it on her own and has done more complicated paint on her lonesome.

However, the more she stared and the more you painted, she started to realize this was less about the paint. You wanted to paint her face because you wanted to do an act of service for her.

You didn't care if she'd done her own before or didn't need your help, you wanted to help her. Take something off her shoulders and spend time with her. Plus, who in the hell passes up time to be face-to-face with your partner?

"How's it going?" Aloy's rasped voice spoke in a whisper. A slight smile crept onto your lips as you heard her voice. You were so immersed in the face paints that you forgot to speak and forgot you could speak. Aloy's voice was soft enough to pull you out of deep concentration but was quiet enough to not startle or mess you up.

"Good," you whispered back. You carefully used two fingers to tilt her head to the other side. With the left side of her cheek done, it was time to do the right. In white paint, you painted rectangular scales. The scales mimicked a futuristic dinosaur's as if the machines that ruled the planet wore some silicone skin to protect their wires and inner workings.

If they had skin, Aloy wouldn't be able to override them as easily. Oh well. Sucks for them.

"I'm almost done with this side," you whispered, your words slow as you concentrated on painting your girlfriend's face.

Aloy almost shook her head in protest but remembered that any movement would fuck your painting up. "No," she blurted in a whisper. She reminded herself to take a breath, an embarrassed smile on her lips. "I mean, take your time. I like being here with you."

You pulled away, your brows furrowed in puzzlement. With a head tilt, you removed the brush on her face. "But I thought you had to meet a village woman to help her find her adult son."

Aloy shrugged, her embarrassed smile growing into a smug one as she looked at your knowing face. "If I had enough time to get my face painted, I could spend a little more time staring into my partner's eyes while they paint me. Right?"

Aloy's smirk only grew when the subtle hint of being flustered peaked through your smile.

Twirling the skinny paintbrush in your fingers, you leaned back in your spot, your gaze piqued an interest in the things next to you. "I mean, I guess so," your sentence ended on a particularly high note.

Laughter filled the air. Aloy grabbed your wrists, pulling her closer to you. "Okay, so resume!" she continued to laugh. "Stop being all cute and finish what you started."

"Stop!" You playfully swatted her shoulder. She faked a wince and held the spot you hit.

"Ow!"

"Oh, please. You ate plants stronger than that hit." Aloy eye-rolled as you leaned back to resume her painting.

Aloy was right. Taking your time as you painted her face felt different than rushing to paint her face. You could seriously examine every textured bit of her skin, perfect your lines, and take shameless gawks at how beautiful she was; little freckles on her face, red cheeks from the sun, and baby hairs on the side of her face, right by her ear.

When you were done, you pecked Aloy on her lips. Much to her surprise.

"What...? What was that for?" she asked, her shy smile revealing her teeth. You shrugged. You swished the paintbrush in the cup of water before taking it out to dry off.

You grabbed a damp cloth to wipe your hands. "I don't know. A prize for sitting so well."

The girl scoffed, her arms crossed across her chest in playful defense. "I always sit well."

It was your turn to roll your eyes. You grabbed a shard of glass, its edges carefully protected with twine and decorated with leaves and pieces of gold that were found in rivers. "Aloy, you can barely last when people go on tangents. Here."

Aloy took the makeshift mirror from you, going to scoff again but when she caught a glimpse of her appearance, her jaw dropped. "Wow, I..." Aloy's voice trailed off as she brought a careful hand to her face.

"Careful," you warned as you stood. "It's still wet. It'll dry on your way."

Aloy matched your stance, her attention still on herself in the mirror. You did this in what, ten minutes? And her face has never been as skillfully painted before. Between the rectangular scales, there were dots and sometimes squiggles.

On the bridge of her nose was a thick white line and a circle of paint on the bulbous part of her nose. You also painted a "V" between her brows with two dots, inside and on either side.

"This is amazing." Aloy finally met your gaze, smiles both resting on each other's lips. "Thank you." She engulfed you in a hug, some of her armor and clothes poking at your own but you've gotten used to the feeling.

"You're welcome." You melted into her touch. Your eyes closed as your hands squeezed around her back and waist. "Just be careful when you're out there, okay?" Your whisper lingered on her earlobe as you pulled away to meet her eye.

Aloy gave you a smile. She shimmed her shoulders, playfulness oozing from her. "Oh, please. When am I ever not careful?" You laughed and shoved her shoulders although there was no malicious intent behind your actions.

"Go before I wipe that smirk off your face."

"Oh," Aloy grinned as she gathered her items from the nearby table. "You promise?"

You laughed louder. "Go!"

"Okay, okay. I'm going! Love you!"

With the quick motion of a kiss, Aloy left with her face freshly painted and her heart warm from the brief, yet intimate moment she had with her partner.

WC: 1,464

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Outbreak Pt 3 (LU in Healthcare)

(Content warning, this is a plague fic, it will likely hit close to home, and there’s dark humor and character death in this part)

It started off as a whisper, but the whisper became a chatter, a groan, constant and disturbing and growing ever closer.

Cases were on the rise in the city, though the surrounding area seemed unaffected still, for now. City officials were growing concerned, and restrictions were starting to be enacted. People were asked to stay home, if possible. As for the hospital and squads…

Hyrule squinted at his email. "Wait. Didn't... didn't they say we could use alcohol wipes to clean the equipment?"

"Yeah," Mo called from the kitchenette in the station.

"Now it says we can only use bleach wipes."

Mo groaned. "Isn't that like the third policy change this week?"

"I'm still trying to figure out if we're doing a specific isolation truck or not anymore," Aurora mumbled. "Like we just had one truck dedicated to the high risk iso cases, and now we're getting so many calls for it that it's a moot point anyway."

"I think the last email said put plastic over everything for Arfy patients and then wipe everything down that you use," Mo replied.

"Wait, which email?"

Hyrule sighed. This was getting ridiculous. And he was getting just a little nervous. “When in doubt, just bleach everything, I guess.”

Aurora huffed. “Did you see the email about the respirators?”

“Which email?” Mo threw his hands in the air, exasperated. “I’ve got twenty new emails!”

“I suppose that means you’ll actually have to read them now,” Aurora noted with a snort.

“Do you all think it’ll get worse before it gets better?” Dawn asked, wringing her hands worriedly. “The OMD made it sound like that would be the case.”

“Our medical director knows more than I do,” Hyrule shrugged. “If he says it’s going to get worse—”

“No, he didn’t just say that, he said ‘it’s not a matter of if the wave hits us, but when,’” Aurora quoted, standing. “He scared the hell out of Dawn.”

“They’re pretty foreboding words,” Hyrule commented darkly, looking away. It was the main reason he was getting nervous. But he was also steeling himself. If they were in for a fight, he would face it head on.

“Okay, but what does any of this have to do with the email about the respirators?” Mo asked as he scrolled frantically through his email.

“Oh, we’re supposed to wear N95s now,” Aurora answered with a wave of her hand.

Hyrule blinked. “Wait. Aren’t—aren’t we supposed to get fit tested for those?”

“Oh, yeah,” Aurora nodded, rolling her eyes. “Here’s your official fit test: pick a mask that fits.”

“We’re all going to die, aren’t we?” Dawn questioned worriedly, hugging herself.

“Nobody’s died from Arfy yet, I don’t think,” Mo noted. “At least not here.”

“People have died,” Aurora corrected.

“Well, maybe we’ll die, then,” Mo amended.

Hyrule laughed while Aurora swatted his partner. Well… at least they’d die fighting. But he really hoped it wouldn’t get to that point.

While the rescue squads struggled to keep up with policies and slapped shoddy safety regulations into place, the hospital clamped down even further. Visitor policies had officially been revoked as of today, and it made all the providers somewhat uneasy.

In some aspects, it was helpful. In others, it made things that much harder.

Arfy patients were medical patients. Which meant the medical floor and ICU was quickly filling up while other parts of the hospital either maintained their quota or decreased as people stayed home. More and more, Four found himself floating to his friend’s ICU, and he felt fairly out of his depths about it. The one good thing was that he got to spend time with Dot. But as cases rose, so did the stress, the worry, and the heartache.

The ICU felt less like a unit where critically ill people got better and more like a place to go to die.

Four and Dot had the same patient assignment for four days in a row. It was the same assignment because nothing had changed with the patients. Intubated, sedated, paralyzed, some proned. The amount of sedation required to keep their patients under was far more than Four was used to, and it was insane how little it would take for their oxygen saturation to drop. Any semblance of activity in the body increased oxygen demand, and the instant oxygen demand increased, no amount of intervention from the ventilator seemed to help. ECMO was a word Four had hardly heard in his trauma ICU, but he heard it on a near daily basis now, being considered at rounds, being initiated with someone else’s patient.

Four was exhausted. His face was breaking out from wearing a respirator for twelve hours at a time. His feet and knees and hips hurt from standing in isolation rooms for three to four hours at a time trying to cluster all his care. And now, with the visitor restriction enacted…

Visitors were hit or miss, particularly in Four’s world. Trauma precipitated drama, and while family could be infinitely helpful and supportive, he’d also seen things go awry, had to deescalate fights or call security. In some aspects, he was thankful there were no visitors while all of this was happening; he was tired of having to explain that yes, you have to wear this gown and gloves and mask, no you can’t kiss your loved one while they’re intubated and sedated with a contagious disease… but still. He couldn’t imagine how hard it was on the family - the patients were sedated to the point that they shouldn’t be aware of anything, but the family had to agonize over the matter at home.

He didn’t like it. He understand the logic. But he didn’t like it.

And so here he sat, holding a patient’s hand while they withdrew care. Here he sat, being the only witness to someone’s last breaths while their family mourned from afar.

Four watched the heart rate steadily drop. He watched the oxygen saturation plummet. He muted the red alarms as the monitor screamed that his patient was dying, that something should be done, like an accusation and call to arms when Four knew this particular fight was over.

He wasn’t a particularly religious person, but he said a prayer for the patient and the family either way. He found himself praying a lot these days, honestly.

While the visitor policy took its toll inside the frame of work, the restrictions both inside and outside the hospital were causing further stress on everyone. Warriors had basically banned Wind from seeing him, opting to stay with Time and Malon instead, leaving the kid in the apartment. He brought food deliveries to the door, asked if Wind needed anything, but he always did so when Wind wasn’t awake - the teenager had swore up and down that if anybody got Arfy he’d take care of them, and Warriors was terrified of that promise as it was basically a threat. Time agreed that Wind didn’t need to get involved, much to the teenager’s chagrin, and Wind found himself already struggling from the loneliness and the frustration of trying to study for classes online when nobody knew what they were doing or how long this would last.

Meanwhile, Wild sat in his room, fingers aimlessly tracing over each other, the smell of bleach so fresh in his nose from scrubbing everything relentlessly for hours on end that he might as well have inhaled a bottle of it. His chest hurt. Not to mention that new disinfectant they were told to use made him cough a lot.

And he worried. Because… it had been a few days since he’d seen his father. Legend had given him updates through his sister (and made Wild swear not to tell anyone about her), and it had sounded like he was improving as expected. But now, he… the rest of the family…

It felt like a blessing and a curse. It was a guarantee that Wild couldn’t run into his mother or sister by accident, but it was also a situation that his mind screamed that he address.

He couldn’t just… he couldn’t just leave his father isolated and alone recovering in the hospital in the midst of an outbreak. He couldn’t.

But what if visiting him made things so much worse? What if it stressed his father’s recovering heart? What if it triggered more traumatic memories for Wild? He was terrified of getting anywhere near the man while he was awake, but his heart screamed that he go to him.

Wild refused to be a coward. And he refused to be heartless, despite how anxious this entire situation made him, despite how his mind screamed he keep away. So that night, when he got on to work, he took a delivery to the cardiovascular ICU and paused in front of a doorway, looking hopefully for a familiar nurse.

“Link? Wild?”

Jumping, Wild turned around to see the nurse in question, watching him scrutinously. She smiled (or at least, he assumed she did, based on how her eye crinkled above her mask) in recognition. “I thought it was you. You here to see your dad?”

Wild swallowed and nodded.

“Good, because the drama I’ve been trying to avoid has been driving me insane,” Legend’s sister said lightheartedly, but despite the casualness of her tone, the words sank into Wild’s stomach like a stone.

“Drama?” He questioned quietly.

“Nothing like… bad, I suppose, but still,” the nurse explained. “I’d be in there taking care of him and overhear him talking to his wife and he’d mention that he swore he saw you. I’m not entirely sure she’s convinced. She seems hopeful, though. But I figured it was best not to bring it up myself since I, ah, don’t know what’s going on.”

Wild felt his blood freeze. His father remembered? And he’d told his mother?

Great. This was… this was just great.

“Go see him,” Legend’s sister prompted gently. “I can tell he loves you very much and just wants to know you’re ok.”

Wild’s eyes unexpectedly burned with tears in an instant, and he was grateful he was wearing a mask to hide his expression. He nodded, hesitantly making his way towards the room.

It all seemed so normal, seeing his father sitting in a recliner looking at his phone. Wild wasn’t even entirely sure he’d recovered memories of his father like that, but somehow it seemed familiar. Abel hadn’t noticed him yet, engrossed in whatever he was looking at, brow slightly furrowed. That expression drew memories, a familiar scrutiny that he would often give Wild himself or his sister, a quiet concern and sternness that made Wild want to stiffen up and simultaneously run to him.

Damn it all, he’d missed him.

Wild swallowed his fears and stepped forward, hoping that this wouldn’t be a disaster. He knocked on the door, initially so quietly that his father didn’t hear him over the chatter of the news on the television. He knocked again.

His father looked up. Stared a moment. Went a shade paler.

Wild hastily stepped forward. “W-wait, don’t get worked up—”

His father stood, seeming mostly steady on his feet, and tried to walk to him, heedless of the cords and oxygen tubing attached, and Wild hastily met him part of the way before he ripped everything out of the wall. Abel immediately pulled him to his chest in the tightest hug Wild had ever felt, and…

And Link sank into the embrace, crying.

[lovegungenic]

4lunggenic flags. "4lunggenic is a xeno-origin relating [metaphorically or literally] to the 2015 breakcore artist 4lung, the music of 4lung, or the collaborators of 4lung."

4lungorma flags. "4lungorma is a variant of 4lunggenic referring specifically to headmate origin, using the -orma suffix."

4lungdawn flags. "4lungdawn is a variant of 4lunggenic referring specifically to sisasystem origin, using the -dawn suffix."

[queen0fm0nsterz]

Was writing a post about Meteora (yall know I love to take my time with analysis and asks in my inbox) and I've been thinking very much about how hair -- her hairstyle -- is important in her character design and evolution, especially when you remember how much of her character is defined by control. Or, rather, the lack of it.

It's an expression of the self and simultaneously the only part of her body she has any real control over... at least after disposing of ST. Olga.

I find it especially interesting how, in her memories, her teenage self -- the one that was beginning to ask questions about her condition -- had a short haircut, meanwhile her young adult version, who craved validation from her mother as well as having already internalised the harmful rethoric imparted by the school, has visibly longer hair.

We do later find out that, if left to her own devices, she'd rather keep it as short as possible; however I'd assume that the rules imposed by St Olga would actively go against her desires by imposing the feminine standard of long hair.

"Problem" is, Meteora happens to have a headful of thick curls. Hard to keep under control, right? Not that she needs to, but I'm trying to reason the way St Olga would. But it can't be helped; she needs her hair to remain voluptuous as it is, because she has horns to hide. Oh, but it can't be too long, can it, because otherwise it's gonna be all over the place.

This eternal dilemma is what I would personally insert in the narrative if I was to take a shot at rewriting (or rather, adding more, since I think the little we were given was really interesting) to Meteora's upbringing. The fact that no matter what she does with her hair (read: with herself), she'll never be good enough because the system in which she's being boxed in was simply not made for her.

Then, thinking about it, the very short undercut she chooses for herself later on becomes a paradoxical testment to her tragedy. Because on one hand, an undercut is easy to manage by herself (read: nobody would find out about the horns) and most importantly she likes it, but it also retroactively transforms into just another way to assert control over herself.

She goes to great lengths to make sure her hair is well kept and looked after, but at the same time it's performative. It's the illusion of choice. Stepping out of the small bubble which she was forced to hide in only to step right back in because she physically has no other way to feel like she's in control of anything, ESPECIALLY her own body.

St Olga is gone, but her teachings are still there. They still haunt her. She's still hiding while peaking her head out.

And I say all this because once she FINALLY lets go of all inhibitions, her hair is the first thing that changes, and it's a paradox, again. Because this time it's long, stereotypically feminine; but at the same time it's retroactively masculine, because it makes her look just like her father. (I'm not gonna go into the GENDER of all this but I promise you I DO THINK ABOUT IT A LOT)

It's beautiful and all over the place but most importantly she is free to NOT CARE.

Because she finally has the power to NOT care. She doesn't need to protect herself by trying to fit in because she has reclaimed her monster side, her own empowerment. Herself. She doesn't NEED to control herself anymore.

And again, in a rewrite, I would keep her hair this way. Long and free, at least for a long while. Then if she wants to cut it, it'll be her own choice, free of judgement. This time she'll get to show off her horns regardless. :)

[j-liz]

Private pirate

He’s very excited he has a crew ok?

[randygrim]

Played some sky with my fren :]

Screenshot reference below

She so itty bitty. I luv him <3

[neopronouns]

flag id: two flags with 5 stripes. the left flag's stripes are blue-black, very dark indigo, dark red-pink, medium dark red, and red. the right flag's stripes are indigo, warm purple, orange, golden yellow, and cream. end id.

banner id: a 1600x200 teal banner with the words ‘please read my dni before interacting. those on my / dni may still use my terms, so do not recoin them.’ in large white text in the center. the text takes up two lines, split at the slash. end id.

non-sam mspec cenelian | sam mspec cenelian

non-sam and sam quasic/mspec cenelian flags as a base for a request!

the first flag, the dusk quasic [pt: dusk quasic /end pt] flag, is for mspec cenelians who do not use that label as a way to describe split attraction. similar to the non-sam lunian and non-sam solian flags, i took inspiration from the top stripes of the quasic flag for this flag, thus emphasizing indigo and red.

the second flag, the dawn quasic [pt: dawn quasic /end pt] flag, is for mspec cenelians who do use that label as a way to describe split attraction. similar to the sam lunian and sam solian flags, i took inspiration from the bottom stripes of the quasic flag for this flag, thus emphasizing yellow.

tags: @radiomogai, @liom-archive, @macchiane, @genderstarbucks, @sugar-and-vice-mogai

tags cont: @p-rtyboy, @pawsibell, @dragonpride17

dni link