#difficult to explain 'medical reasons' to a dog

[doomspaniels]

Gwyn is invited to... softly, gently... resume Guinevere Appreciation Time. Soooo happy!

[killerpancakeburger]

Thinking about a Reader who ends up having Scary Dog Privileges with Ghost without meaning to. It just happened.

Then they have to deal with the fact that this comes with duties too.

Tags: civilian!reader, gn!reader, mostly fluff, a bit suggestive, smug!Ghost, smooth!Ghost. 800 words.

When Ghost is reluctant to getting sutured in Medical after accidentally opening his stitches, grumbling he can do it himself, who does the nurse call for? Yeah, you.

She could stand her ground, after all she's used to dealing with big, whiny men, but it's much more fun to knock on your door and smile at your bewildered gaze and gaping mouth when she explains the situation in two sentences.

"Ghost's being difficult, mind taking over?" "I'm sorry, what the hell does this have to do with me?" "C'm'on, everyone on base knows he's got a soft spot for you. Don't you want to make my job easier?"

You roll your eyes and slam your hands on your desk as you get up. Groaning as you walk past her— "I'm doing this for you, nothing else, got it?"

Mumbling to yourself "you've got to be kidding me" as you barge into the sick bay. Ghost is coolly seated at the end of a bed, large as life, casual clothes as black as his mask and— oh. You weren't told the wound was on his thigh— you weren't warned that he didn’t have pants on. You can’t help it, your eyes go down, down, your lingering gaze and your flustered silence forming a confession louder than words.

A noise — a scoff or a grunt, you’re not sure — emanates from him, breaks your trance, makes you look up. The amusement in his gaze tells you he noticed your oggling— of course he did. Nothing gets past the Ghost, and you've been remarkably unsubtle. Despite the mask, you swear you can make out the smug smirk on his lips. His cockiness reignites your irritation. Annoyance making you bolder than you really are, you charge at him, crossing the distance between you two in a stride, stopping close— too close. He doesn't back off.

"What's wrong with you?" you snarl. "Nothin'," he retorts, imperturbable.

It's actually the first time you’re overlooking him. You may be enjoying it a bit too much. Nevermind the fact that you've had to wedge yourself between his parted legs to get there.

You frown, unconvinced by his answer.

“Did Soap contaminate you?”

Bargaining to be cleared out earlier was the Scotsman's trademark.

“Johnny throws a fit cos he hates feeling useless. That's not what I'm doing.”

A smirk stretches your lips.

“Oh, no? I'm sure your reasons are much more noble.”

“Doesn't matter. Got what I wanted anyway.”

He's way too self-satisfied for a man in his underwear.

You throw an unequivocal look in the direction of his injury.

“What you wanted? A still open wound?”

“You.”

He replied without missing a beat, as confident as usual. It is both alluring and aggravating.

“And your idea of wooing me is making me upset?”

You don't add “because if it is, that's really fucking stupid” out loud, but you’re sure he got the message through your tone.

“Nah. But you're more honest when you’re angry. Gutsier.”

You only realize he slipped his index and middle fingers in your trouser loops when he sharply tugs at them. Off balance, you steady yourself by catching his shoulders.

Taking advantage of the strip of bare skin between your shirt and bottoms, the pads of his thumbs idly stroke your hip bones. The contact sends electricity through you, shivers of pleasure running down your sides.

“Ghost,” you start, severe, trying not to let the effect his touch has on you show in your voice.

“Simon,” he counters, surly. “Told ya it's Simon when we're alone, didn't I?”

He did, but you didn’t think he was serious. If that's what it takes to get him to listen… you’ll play by his rules.

“Simon. What's the rest of your brilliant plan? I'm here, but I can’t stitch you up.”

“How ‘bout a deal. I'll stop resisting… for a price.”

You raise an amused eyebrow.

“What kind of price?”

“A kiss.”

You snort. You didn’t believe him capable of something so… puerile.

“With the mask on?”

He doesn't move a muscle to get rid of it.

“Take it off.”

You usually wouldn’t obey what sounds like an order so easily, but it's the first time you get to touch the skull. Slipping two fingers between skin and cloth, you slowly roll up the mask all the way under his nose.

You gently trace the scars surrounding his lips. Then, the second you feel him relax, grip on your hips slackening and intensity of his gaze waning, you grab the bottom of his mask and drag it back down vigorously, making the holes for the eyes land way too low for him to see anything.

“If you thought you'd get a reward for acting out, you've got another think coming.”

[sparks9793]

How far can we take this AU thing?

At night, when was alone in her bed she’d think about the things she’d done. Hayley never really found guilt anytime she thought back. She did feel like what she was doing was wrong, though. Hayley knew that much, she just didn’t feel that bad about any of it, though. She’d made herself a nice small fortune and did it doing something she loved. Why did she love stealing from unsuspecting idiot men?  

Who knows?  

The tiny blonde had a mostly-typical upbringing. Her mom and dad split when she was five and Hayley saw her dad pretty often like most of her friends with their dads.  

Christi was a good mom. She took care of Hayley. Loved her. Protected her. Encouraged her.  

She didn’t have an unusual childhood. Others who had it far worse turned out normal. She had no excuse. No trauma to point at. No mental health problems ran in the family. No vendetta against men. Nothing to prove.  

She just liked it. There was a thrill that came with it. And the better she got at it, the more fun it was. And Hayley loathed the idea of working a regular job somewhere earning a living wage. A living wage. What a joke. She was earning like a CEO and not once did she ever have to put out for anyone she didn’t want to. Everything was on her terms.  

The tiny blonde could sleep in as late as she wanted. Skip a day of work if she chose, never needing to call anyone to tell them she was taking a sick day. She could do two in one day if she was on a roll. Or could abandon ship if the man she started chatting up turned out to be someone Hayley could actually see herself fucking. Because she did draw the line there.  

If she started to become interested in the guy, or he was attractive enough, and he invited her back to his place Hayley would have a choice to make. She could stay the course, drug him, and then steal his watch and his money or she could just have a fun night with an attractive man at his place. The tiny blonde wouldn’t steal from someone she’d slept with. She had some moral boundaries.  

Hayley was nice, though. She wasn’t like a bitch to anyone. But she guesses ask any of the men she’d stolen from and they’d have a different mind about that. She had a small handful of friends. She didn’t like letting people get too close, though. For good reason. Because when she got close it became harder to hide her dark secret. People always asked what she did for a living. What an intrusive question to ask anyone. Hayle always made up some lie about working online and inputting data for a medical corporation. Something that pointed to her making just enough money that would explain her nice clothes and expensive purses, but also that would have her home during the day.  

Her best friend, Brian knows her secret. Probably her mom as well. Also, Joey who buys her stolen goods but that’s a different story. But that’s it. In the whole wide world, has one person that she’s told directly what she does (again, not counting Joey). Because she couldn’t hide it anymore. And Brian is still around. He’s her best friend. Now her mom, well, Hayley never told her but she knows. She’s not dumb.  

The bank wouldn’t take big ass deposits like that at a time or there’d be some kind of flag on her account and it would get reported to the HMRC (protocol), so Hayley generally would only deposit £3,000 at a time. Which also meant she had a large stash of cash in her apartment at all times. She tried to space out the deposits. Had multiple bank accounts at different banks, and went to different branches in different locations but cash was difficult to work with at times. It was the only part of the job she hated. Dealing with all that cash. Especially when she preferred to save most of it. She usually bought herself nice things, but most of the money she didn’t touch. Hayley was serious about her future plan of buying a house for cash and getting lots of dogs.  

Tonight, she planned on going to the Connaught again. The last time the tiny blonde was there was six months ago. She’d gotten a big hit with a B-list celebrity and she didn’t want to show her face around there for a while just in case he found her there or anyone recognized her somehow. Six months seemed like a good amount of time to wait.  

Hayley stopped at her favorite café and picked up a ginger tea and scone to go. Then she walked to St. James Park to drink and eat her breakfast slash lunch in the sunshine.  

She wondered who would be at the bar tonight. The Connaught was usually crawling with celebrities (lots of money). Hayley knew how to handle them all. It really didn’t take much though. Look cute, act dumb. Usually. There were a few times she’d encountered a celebrity or wealthy man who was looking for someone with substance, but that wasn’t what she was going for. The tiny blonde searched for the ones who wanted one fun night and nothing more.  

Hayley was sitting on one of the benches near the pond and sipping her hot tea when a shadow appeared blocking the sun from her body. She looked up to see a tall man looking down at her. Instantly she sat up straight. He was very attractive.  

“Hi… I was hoping you could point me in the direction of The Ritz hotel. I seem to be lost…” he looked at his cell phone and then held its screen to her face and Hayley laughed, placing her tea down next to her.  

The tiny blonde stood up and smiled and noticed he didn’t have a watch on his wrist (old habit), “You’re definitely lost. But not too lost. The nearest Ritz is gonna be like a 9-minute walk from here. It’s that way,” she pointed in the direction of Mayfair, though it couldn’t be seen from where she was.  

“Fuck. Well, thank you, I guess. I’m new here and went for a walk and found myself enjoying the sun and now here I am. Lost puppy in a big city.”  

The man had thick, dark curly hair, honey-colored eyes, richly pigmented lips, and a jawline that could cut rock. And he was American. Clearly from out of town.  

Hayley held out her hand and introduced herself and he quickly wrapped his big paw around hers and she saw the tattoo on his forearm. His clothes didn’t indicate that he was well-off. But sometimes it was hard to tell. Some rich guys didn’t give a fuck. This one didn’t. If he was, in fact, wealthy.  

“Taylor. Nice to meet you. Is hard finding a friendly face in a new city. Do you live here?”  

“I do. Not far from here. What are you in town for, Taylor?” the tiny blonde asked, keeping eye contact. She didn’t know if she should size him up for a job or see if she could get him to take her back to his hotel for a fuck. This guy looked like he could fuck. Tall and broad, deep voice, and big hands. A charming smile.  

“Ahh, just work. Plan to be here for about a month. Staying at The Ritz while I’m in town,” he smirked at her and that was all Hayley needed to hear to know he was interested. Yeah, she’d fuck him.  

“Is that so? For a month huh? Here, let me give you my number, you know, in case you need anyone to show you around. A friendly face like you said…” Hayley gestured toward his phone so she could put her number in and he unlocked it and opened up his messages app.  

She was bold. The tiny blonde had no problem picking up a guy to sleep with. She just needed to be somewhat straightforward. Her jobs were different. Playing coy was the game when they wanted to feel like they were in charge. But when it came to actually fucking someone, she was in charge and she wanted them to know it.  

“Seems quite forward to give your number to a complete stranger, Hayley” he spoke her name, wrapping his lips around the vowels in the most sensual way. That mouth of his could do some damage. she swallowed.  

She laughed and shrugged, “Not really. It’s just a number. Now, what you do with it is up to you. If you’re bold, you’ll use it.”  

[quiet-in-the-wild]

I happy we found out new dentist & they were so focused on creating a calm office environment - therapy dog, weighted blankets, really kind staff

Because I got some kinda scary news there- they definitely explained it in a way that was reassuring - but now that it’s night time, and my gums are a little sore from being poked- my medical ocd is really being difficult. But I’m not going to google it. Or ruminate.

I used to have really bad ocd about my teeth - I would scrub them as hard as I could for like 10+ minutes every day in high school So it’s definitely a trigger (& one of the reasons for my dental issues right now- the other is I guess it’s common for people with EDS)

[theflagscene]

Okay so I have a few messages in my inbox as well as comments on AO3 (which I will get to over there since I know not everyone has Tumblr or followers fic writers) and I didn’t want to reply to one or two anon messages explaining things and make that/those person/people feel like I’m like info dumping directly at them because they just happened to ask, that’s not fair. Also I didn’t want to reply to the non anon messages in private for the same reason, cause like, it’s a lot and a couple y’all just asked a simple question, it’s not your fault that the answer isn’t simple.

As for wether I am working on more chapters for Do I Ever Cross Your Mind, or is it abandoned? It is absolutely not abandoned, none of my fics are ever officially abandoned, even if I don’t update it for like months or even years (side eying a unfinished SPN fic I have from 3 years ago)

I am working on the fifth chapter of DIECYM, as well as all of my very late prompt fics and continuations and one shots, etc. Chapter five does take precedence obviously, so that’s the one I try to get the most done on as often as I can, I know waiting for a fic to update sucks, especially if you really enjoy it and I love hearing about people rereading it while they wait, it truly warms my cold lil heart. Also asking about updates never makes me feel pressured, I’ve mentioned this before, so please, never apologize for poking at me about possible updates or sneak peeks, etc.

Now to the info dumping, I’ll be frank and as blunt as possibly. A while ago I suffered a mental breakdown, some shit happened, it sucked and I couldn’t take it. I managed to power through a lot of it, I still wrote a ton, I actually wrote the first four chapters of DIECYM mid breakdown. Things have gotten worse recently, I am under psychiatric care and my support system is, I’d say pretty damn decent. Right now we’re just working on keeping me at home and out of the hospital, which is proving to be a difficult thing because to be completely honest, I’m not always this cognizant. I have a history of dangerous behaviour that we’re not looking for a repeat performance of tbh. And while all this is going on, I’m also looking for new housing as well as dealing with an chronically ill dog that needs to see a new veterinarian because her last one moved and I do not have the means to pay for that. It’s gonna cost me 100 dollars for the visit, 400 for the bloodwork and 180 for her medication. So nearly 700 dollars is needed for me to keep my dog well and that is basically my entire monthly income, I already use the food banks near me every couple of weeks to try and supplement the lack of groceries I’m able to obtain, but being a vegan, they don’t exactly have much that I can use. Which I know isn’t their fault, they help how they can with what they can and I’m grateful for their help every single day.

So between my dwindling mental health, heavy medication, housing stress, food shortage, money issues and an sick dog, I’ve been writing at a snail’s pace. I spend most of my days barely able to interact with people, online or irl. I mostly just sit, staring, my mother has more than once checked on me and thought I had just gone fully catatonic. I hadn’t, I can just focus very very deeply, like not even on the same plane of existence kind of deeply lol. Space cadet, that’s me! Point is, I physically can’t make myself write. Like the spirit is willing, but the body is weak. Oh, and I also might have fractured my left arm, so that also doesn’t make typing any easier. Just trying to get this all written out on my phone has been hell. I need to go to the doctor to get my arm scanned but I haven’t left the house in nearly 3 months at this point, so it’s like, yeah, just, ugh, not going great.

But to reiterate, none of my fics are abandoned, they are all going to get finished and are all currently being worked on. It’s just going to be way way slower than you’re used too, someone once commented to me that “the devil works fast but you work faster” lol. Well not anymore, the devil may win this time, my slow and steady tortoise progress will have to do for now 🐢🐢

I hope you can understand 🥰

[imwall-e]

W&TWS - Issues

Summary : He is a super-soldier of more than 100 year old, struggling to find a place in this new world. She is a young student of 23, struggling with life. But they know they can find comfort and help in each other.

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count : 1024

Warnings : non, (maybe some insecurities)

Series Masterlist

March 26th, 2021

They exchanged messages almost everyday, talking about themselves or about their day.

However, James was still a bit evasive about his past. Willow would probably be scared if she learned he used to be an assassin. Or think he's lost his mind if he told her he fought during WW2 and fall from a train, but survived to be torture, brainwashed and turned into a weapon. He wasn't ready for that even if he really wanted to trust her. 

What he didn't know was that Willow had trust issues too. She only explained that she wasn't able to go to high school for almost 2 years due to medical reasons, from her 16 to her 18. The truth was that she had depression and school phobia. She spent a year in a hospital with other teenagers. It was difficult, but nurses, psychologists and psychiatrists were very kind and attentive.

Willow started to feel something towards James, but she wanted to take things slow, to know him more. Not like before. In any case, they decided to meet again a week after they met. 

Willow closed her laptop after her last class of the day was over. She was so tired of all this and couldn't wait to join James at the park for a walk.

She talked about him to her close friends, Zephyr, Axel, Dysariel and Ophelia. She showed them a picture of him from his Instagram. Axel said that he seemed familiar, but they couldn't remember where they could have seen him.

"I think Scamp is a lucky charm so I'm gonna steal him because I want a god too in my life", joked Dysariel who continued by asking if James had a twin.

They all laughed. "Careful Willow, or he won't just steal your dog, he'll take your boyfriend too," Zephyr laughed.

"He's not my boyfriend", said Willow. "I'd like to, of course, but I don't want to repeat the same mistakes. This time, I want to be sure."

They agreed and reminded her to send messages after the "date".

✪✪✪

On his side, James did the same thing: tell his friends.

"But, you met other people during your trip around the world?" Steve asked during their video call.

"Yes, but I never gave my number or flirted with anyone. They were just people I talked to and then goodbye." James answered.

"So, you like this girl ?"

"Yes, but I don't know what to do."

"Come on, pal! That's not different. I mean, you've dated before."

"I don't think Willow is like the girls from the 40s, Steve."

There was silence for ten long seconds.

"Wait, wait, wait", Steve began, surprised. "The last time you were with a girl was almost 80 years ago ?"

"Excuse me, Hydra didn't really introduced me to people in order to flirt or have sex. Then, Shuri found a way to take the words out of my mind, but I was and I am still scared."

"You still have nightmares?" Steve was worried. Bucky used to tell him everything.

"Yes", Bucky answered, his voice shaking. He didn't want to talk about that right now. Steve was about to say something, but he interrupted him. "Sorry Steve, we'll talk another time. It's almost 3 pm and I have to meet Willow."

Steve was really happy for his best friend. He deserved some peace and happiness after all he went through. Steve also hoped he'd meet this young woman soon.

Of course, Bucky talked about Willow to his best friend and the others… but he didn't say a thing about the Avengers. They seemed less famous in Europe. He'll talk about heroes and villains and traumas, just not now. Not today. When he was with Willow, he just wanted to enjoy the present.

✪✪✪

It was the end of March, but the weather seemed more appropriate for a month of November. The sun barely appeared, and everyone was waiting for warmer days.. As Willow walked towards the park, red appeared on her cheeks due to the cold. She arrived in advance, as always because she hated being late. It made her anxious. To be honest, she was also really excited to see James again.

On his side, James almost ran to see her faster. And when he discerned her figure, a large smile appeared on his face and he slowed down to not show that he couldn’t wait to see her. When she finally turned his face to him, he waved at her and she answered.

“Hi,” he simply said when he arrived in front of her. “How was your online class ?”

“Terrible. I can’t wait for the end of May, then I’ll see if I continue or not. But I’m honestly thinking about giving up and doing something else. I don’t see myself staying one more year, or two if I fail this one.”

“I totally understand and I really hope you’ll find something you’ll love. Tell me at the end of May, okay?” He really hoped Willow would still be talking to him by then, he wasn’t thinking about leaving this country. He wanted to see where things would go with her.

“Of course, thank you, James. And what about you and your project ?”

“It’s going really well, a friend of Steve, my best friend, is helping me. It’s really nice of him because he used to hate me. Anyway, everything will be fine by the end of April. I’m scared but really excited to start something new on my own.”

“I’m really happy for you, James!” she said with enthusiasm. She also began to shake which didn’t go unnoticed by James.

“We should start walking, or even go to my hotel. We’ll drink something if you want?”, he suggested.

“I’d love to, especially if they have hot chocolate.”

“I’m sure they do.”

They began to move towards the hotel, still talking, their hands brushing against each other from time to time. It was a great feeling. They spent a great afternoon, and when time came for Willow to go home, they promised to meet again next Friday. And this time, they’ll meet at James’ hotel.

Series Masterlist || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6

[mywebmains]

The highbrow

Given Seuss’s penchant for nonsense words and rare poetic meters (anapestic tetrameter, anyone?), converting his writing into a dead language, with its smaller vocabulary for describing certain modern concepts, wasn’t easy. As Tunberg explains, the real trick to a good translation isn’t always in the word-for-word conversion, but in maintaining the meaning and the voice of the original work. In Latin, that’s Virent Ova! Viret Perna!! BY 2.0īut the books, especially those of Seuss, presented a number of unique translation problems. They caught on to the idea that if they have very young children’s stories in Latin along with the regular books by Caesar and Cicero and all these other people, it would be a draw. “As a textbook publisher, they’re out to make money. Of course, the real reasons for the project didn’t escape him. Given his background with the language, and his interest in how Latin evolved after Rome, the prospect of translating these modern works was right up his alley. Tunberg, who specializes in neo-Latin, or the use of Latin after the Romans were dead and gone, never planned on translating kids’ books, but was contacted by prominent Classics textbook publisher Bolchazy-Carducci, who had purchased the rights to some of Dr. “We tried to translate it the best we could given the resources of the Latin language without dumbing it down.” We did not try to write simple Latin,” says Tunberg. “ a good teaching tool, there’s no doubt about that. Seuss classics How the Grinch Stole Christmas ( Quomodo Invidiosulus nomine Grinchus Christi natalem Abrogaverit) and The Cat in the Hat ( Cattus Petasatus), as well as Shel Silverstein’s The Giving Tree ( Arbor Alma). In addition to Green Eggs and Ham (Latin title: Virent Ova! Viret Perna!!), the Tunbergs have also translated Dr. Along with his wife, Jennifer, he has translated a number of children’s books into Latin. “ Green Eggs and Ham was very difficult,” says Terence Tunberg, who has been teaching Latin for over 30 years. But this doesn’t mean that turning these books into Latin in the first place is any small feat. Children’s books make good candidates for such translation work due to their simplified language and short length, and in turn can give the study of Latin a more contemporary feel. Even its study is becoming increasingly rare, but there are still some publishers and scholars who are taking modern works, mainly kids’ books, and translating them from modern English into what can best be described as a kind of modern Latin.įrom picture books such as Walter the Farting Dog, to longer works such as Winnie the Pooh, and the first two books in the “Harry Potter” series, a wide variety of titles have made the jump to Latin over the years. But a simple Amazon search shows that it still has a surprisingly active life-not just in medical and law terminology, but also in children’s books.Īfter serving as the chief language of ancient Rome, and then as the language of scholars and holy men, Latin mostly faded out of modern usage. Not all of these have been translated into Latin, but more than you’d think! EvelynGiggles/CC BY 2.0Īccording to conventional wisdom, Latin is a dead language.

[viewbanana]

7 free stealth attraction techniques summarized

#7 free stealth attraction techniques summarized full#

To learn more about causes and treatments, see our Diagnosis Dictionary. Some people with a specific phobia change their lifestyles to avoid their triggers, moving to a region where certain animals are rare, for example, or where there is no subway. But for many more people, the origin of the phobia remains unknown. The onset of a phobia can sometimes be traced to a specific event, like surviving a plane crash or being attacked by a dog. It’s not uncommon to have multiple phobias: three-quarters of individuals diagnosed with a specific phobia have more than one and the average sufferer has three. As many as 9 percent of Americans annually experience a specific phobia, according to the DSM-5, and women are twice as likely as men to have a phobia.

#7 free stealth attraction techniques summarized full#

In some cases, exposure to the feared object or situation (the phobic stimulus) can cause full or limited panic attacks. Phobias can manifest at any time, but tend to emerge in childhood or adolescence, and the symptoms are often lifelong. immunoliposomes are built so as to be long-circulating and non-immunogenic, using the stealth technique. Oku and Namba (2005) recently summarized their research on glucuronate-modified long. Their attraction lies in their composition, which makes them. Others, such as a fear of vomiting or choking. Among these carriers, liposomes have been most studied.Situational fears, such as a fear of flying ( aerophobia), a fear of public speaking (glossophobia), or a fear of riding in elevators, which is itself a type of fear of closed spaces ( claustrophobia).Fears related to blood ( hemophobia), injury, and injection, such as a fear of needles ( trypanophobia) or medical procedures including dentistry ( dentophobia).These phobias also include fear of fire ( pyrophobia) and fear of the dark (nyctophobia). Fears of the natural environment, such as a fear of heights (acrophobia) or of storms.These fears, known as zoophobias, also include the fear of bats ( chiroptophobia) and of snakes or lizards (herpetophobia). Fears of animals, such as fear of dogs (cynophobia), spiders (arachnophobia), or bugs ( insectophobia or entomophobia).However, they cannot avoid their reaction. The fear experienced is almost always disproportionate to the true danger the object or event poses, and people with specific phobias generally know there is no real reason to be afraid and that their behavior is not logical. Most likely is that people follow multiple pathways to fears, not least among them the emotional response of disgust.Ī phobia is a distinct fear or anxiety about a certain object or situation, exposure to which consistently provokes fear or causes distress in the sufferer. Personality traits such as neuroticism appear to increase one's likelihood of developing a phobia, and a tendency toward frequent worries and negative thoughts may also increase the risk, as may being raised by overprotective parents, losing a parent, or sexual or physical abuse. Others point to evidence that individuals fear certain things because of a previous traumatic experience with them, but that fails to explain the many fears without such origins. One theory is that humans have a genetic predisposition to fear things that were a threat to our ancestors, such as snakes, spiders, heights, or water, but this is difficult to verify, although people who have a first-degree relative with a specific phobia appear more likely to have the same one. In the end, the current challenge and the directional perspective for utilizing biomass-derived carbon absorbing materials with effective EM properties are outlined.At least 60 percent of adults admit to having at least one unreasonable fear, although research to date is not clear on why these fears manifest. Nature fiber-derived carbon materials, possessing high-aspect ratio fiber structure, are also discussed due to their potential in weaving manufacture and diverse application for flexible cloaking fabric. The three dimensional (3D) interconnected network of carbon materials are highlighted in analysis regarding the biomass selection, functional process, pore-forming strategy and the microwave absorption performance of the corresponding composites. Herein, a concise review of recent advances in designing carbonaceous materials for EM attention is provided with particular stress on the biomass categories and the synthetic method. Rather than the complicated vapor deposition method, a simple biomass-derived approach sheds light on the mass production of carbon materials for its ubiquitous, environmental-friendly, cost-off, and sustainable advantages. Carbonaceous microwave absorbing materials are in vital demand due to the extensive electromagnetic pollution in 5G network era and urgent requirements for stealth technology in national defense domain.

[whitesparrows97]

Not quite the same – Part 3

Pairing: Wolf Hybrid!Jungkook x Dog Hybrid!Reader

Summary: You had always thought that your home with your family was the final stop. After your owners abandon you and a storm drives you into the nearby forest, you think things can’t get any worse. At least until you run right into the arms of a pack of wolves.

Genre: Hybrid AU; angst, smut, fluff

Rating: 18+

Warnings: None

Word Count: 5.3K

Previous / Next 

At some point, you didn’t know if it was already morning or still night, you were woken up by an unpleasant feeling on your forehead. You blinked, which was incredibly difficult for you, and tried to recognize something in the dark room. Two silhouettes stood in front of the sofa you were lying on and for a moment you were confused as to where exactly you were. This was not your room, other unfamiliar smells entered your nose and your heartbeat would have quickened if your heart wasn’t beating up to your neck anyway. Your hand reached for your chest, which ached with every breath. 

“Y/N?” you heard someone ask, because without realizing it you had squinted your eyes again. “Hey, it’s all right. It’s me, Jungkook.”

A hand rested on your shoulder, so gently that you weren’t sure if you were imagining it. Maybe this was all just a fever dream. But the name, Jungkook, rang a few bells in the back of your mind. 

“Jungkook,” you mumbled, but your throat ached as you spoke. When you swallowed, it hurt too. 

“I’m here, you don’t need to speak,” he explained, and all at once his voice was much closer. As you turned your head and cautiously opened one eye, you saw him kneeling on the floor beside you, his worried gaze on you. Something fell from your forehead and onto the sofa. Out of the corner of your eye, you couldn’t make out what it was. “No, no, lie back down,” Jungkook said quickly, carefully turning your head back before placing something on your forehead again. You thought it was a cool washcloth as you felt the water running over your temples. 

“What happened?” 

“You caught a fever last night, so I went to get Seokjin-hyung.”

Ah, so that was the reason you felt so miserable. You tried to sit up, but your arms gave way under you, causing your head to fall back onto the pillow. 

“Please rest,” Seokjin now said as well. “I’m afraid we don’t have a thermometer here, but your temperature is definitely too high. How do you feel?”

“Not good. Everything hurts.”

“Do we have any more medicine, Hyung?” 

Seokjin didn’t answer, so you assumed he either nodded or shook his head. Seokjin’s next statement suggested the latter. 

“I’d better get Namjoon to join us, let him decide if we’re driving into town or…”

“Or what?” Jungkook asked after a few moments. 

“Or if we sit it out. I can make some tea and soup,” Seokjin offered. 

From Jungkook’s tone, you could hear that he wasn’t thrilled about Seokjin’s plan. “She has a high fever, hyung. At the very least, she needs medication if we can’t see a doctor.”

“And where are we supposed to get those?” a third voice interfered, making you open your eyes. With much effort, you raised your arm to hold the damp and now warm washcloth to your forehead and turned your head. Namjoon was standing in the doorway. “We don’t have any money, neither for the medicine nor for gas. Not to mention we can’t just walk into town without an owner.”

“But we can’t just wait and hope she gets better,” Jungkook objected. He had turned to the other two hybrids, but your gaze fell on his hand, which was still beside you on the sofa. “What about Marten?”

Namjoon shook his head. “He almost got busted last time. He said he couldn’t risk helping us again.”

“Shit,” Seokjin muttered. “But understandable after RCH showed up at his place and turned the whole place upside down.”

You listened to the conversation that was just going around in circles and finally cleared your throat. It hurt to speak, but maybe you could prove yourself useful, and not just a burden, after all. “Did you bring my backpack inside?”

Jungkook nodded. “I put it next to my bed. Why? Do you need anything? Can I bring you something?”

Now you nodded, “Could you bring the whole backpack?”

You had barely finished the question before Jungkook had leapt to his feet and hurried up the stairs. Again you tried to sit up, and finally you managed to sit up and lean your back against the backrest. Jungkook was back by your side a blink of an eye later and he held the backpack out to you. 

“Could you check for my wallet? I’m not sure if they packed it, but maybe we’ll get lucky.” 

“Y/N…,” Jungkook mumbled as he understood what you were asking for, but you shook your head decisively. As decisively as you could, because you didn’t think you were particularly persuasive at that moment with sweaty hair and washcloth on your forehead. 

Jungkook hesitated for a moment, trying to find doubt in your face that wasn’t there, before opening the backpack and looking inside. You hadn’t taken a look inside yourself because you had been too busy trying to find your way back home. That’s why you didn’t know what was inside. Maybe fresh laundry and something to eat, if you smelled it correctly. Then Jungkook pulled out the brown wallet and held it out to you. 

“Thank you.” You threw him a slight smile and accepted it. As you opened the clasp, a picture fell towards you. With clammy fingers, you picked it up from your lap where it had fallen and looked into three happy faces. The joy on your face in the photo left a bitter taste in your mouth. Never would you have thought that such pure happiness would someday turn into deepest sadness and disappointment. Was there anything at all in this world that would last? Or would everything turn to dust sooner or later?

“Are these your owners?” Jungkook brought you back from your thoughts before you could sink too deep into them. 

Silently, you nodded before putting the picture aside. “Doesn’t matter now anyway,” you said quietly, looking into the compartment with the banknotes. Without counting, you took them out and held them out to Namjoon. “Here.”

The latter glanced between you and your outstretched hand with the money and back again. “We can’t accept this,” he finally said, crossing his arms in front of his chest. 

You scoffed. “Why? Are you too good to take my money?” You lowered your arm again as it became too heavy and instead placed it on the sofa beside you. “Consider it a thank you for letting me stay here. After all, I’m eating your food, so you could use the little extra money.”

Jungkook had reached for the money and started counting it. Then all at once he turned to Namjoon, his tail thumping loudly against the sofa. “That’s almost a thousand dollars.” Jungkook sounded surprised, but to you the number had no meaning. You had often run errands for your owners, however, you had never had any money of your own and therefore had never learned to handle it.

For Namjoon and Seokjin, however, the amount did have meaning, if the raised eyebrows and slightly open mouths were anything to go by. Then Jungkook turned back to you and carefully took your hand to return the money. However, you pulled your hand away. 

“Y/N, this is too much. We can’t accept it,” Jungkook said. 

Exhausted, you sank deeper into the sofa and closed your eyes for a moment. Your upper body ached and you wondered if it would be better if you lay back down. 

“We can’t spend it anyway,” Namjoon added after a moment’s hesitation. “We can’t be around people. There are so many who call the RCH when they see unattended hybrids.”

“I have a pass,” you said, holding out the wallet to Jungkook. In it was the credit-card-sized certificate that you were a registered hybrid, allowed to do shopping and errands even on your own. 

One of the men drew in a sharp breath and Namjoon muttered, “This changes things.” 

“It doesn’t change anything,” Jungkook objected, “if she’s too weak to get anywhere.”

Your eyes popped open again. “I’m well enough for that.” 

Jungkook’s eyes met yours and he scrutinized your face, your eyes half-closed and your lips slightly parted because you were having trouble breathing normally. 

“I’m not sure–”

“But I am,” you interrupt him, albeit with a small smile on your lips. “I’m gonna be fine with this. I promise, Jungkook.”

He looked at you for a moment longer before placing his hand on yours. His hand felt hot to you, but it was pleasant to feel the warmth on your cold fingers. To feel the weight on your body, even if it was just your hand. This time you didn’t pull it away. 

“I’m coming too.”

“I think it’s better if Seokjin goes with her,” Namjoon said. “You can’t drive a car and the three of you will draw unnecessary attention.”

Jungkook opened his mouth to object, but you turned your hand so that your fingers intertwined with his. That made his attention turn back to you. “It’s okay. Seokjin and I will be back sooner than you think.” 

When you looked at Seokjin, he threw you a smile. 

“Then we’ll do it this way,” Namjoon sealed your plan. “Best get going before dawn, then you’ll be back before most people are up.”

One thing was still burning on your tongue, though. “Do you mind if I freshen up first?” The t-shirt stuck to your torso and was soaked through with your sweat. A disgusting layer of sweat had also formed on your skin, which you were desperate to wash off beforehand. 

Namjoon nodded, to your surprise without hesitation. “Seokjin, could you put on some warm water? Then I’ll get the tub ready.”

Namjoon disappeared into the hallway and you heard water start to flow. Seokjin fired up the stove in the kitchen. 

“We don’t have running hot water,” Jungkook explained to you, “but at least we have running water, which is more than we could have hoped for.”

You didn’t mean to, but inevitably your old life crossed your mind. All these years you had taken it for granted that hot water came out of the tap at the push of a button. Yet you should know better – with your backstory. But apparently you quickly forgot the bad times when better ones came. 

“Let’s go to the bathroom,” Jungkook said as you continued to stay silent. “Can you stand?”

“I don’t know.” You were unsure because you felt weak even sitting down and had no idea how you were going to make it to the bathroom. 

“I’ll help you.” 

Before you could stand up, Jungkook had wrapped an arm around your waist. “Is that okay?” His face was suddenly so close, just a few inches away. From up close you could make out the pointed canines, and for a moment your gaze lingered on them. Then Jungkook quickly closed his mouth. 

Without addressing the situation, you nodded and put an arm around Jungkook’s shoulders. You expelled the air as you had to support your body weight with your feet all at once, but before your knees gave out from under you, Jungkook steadied you. His fingers were digging into your side and you were more than happy for the support he was giving you. In more ways than one. 

“It’s just a few steps,” he tried to encourage you, but even the few meters felt like a marathon. Putting one foot in front of the other, you both slowly started moving. You had just arrived in the hallway when you were already breathing heavily. 

“Can… we take a short… break?” New sweat had formed on the old one, which made you shiver in the chilled air. Now your muscles were shaking with more than just exhaustion. 

“It’s just a few more steps.” 

Black dots formed at the edge of your vision and you knew the feeling, knew what it meant as a sudden nausea overcame you. “Jungkook, I need to sit down for a minute.”

He could only watch as you slid down the wall onto the floor. You tried to take a deep breath until the room stopped spinning. Only then did you look at Jungkook. “Sorry, I got a little dizzy.”

“Are you okay?” 

You nodded. But instead of Jungkook helping you up so you could walk the rest of the way, he slipped an arm under the back of your knees and one wrapped around your waist. Before you knew it, he had lifted you up. The sudden difference in height made your stomach flip, like the one day your owners had taken you to an amusement park and you had been on countless roller coasters. Your ears still hurt when you thought about the cold air in them. 

He carefully set you down in front of the bathtub. You still felt the slight pressure on your skin that his hands had left. 

Namjoon turned off the faucet when the tub was half full. “I’ll get everything ready for you to leave once you’re done,” he said, leaving you alone with Jungkook.

It was quiet in the bathroom, only the soft splashing of water lapping at the edges of the bathtub filling the room. 

Jungkook cleared his throat. “I hope you were able to–”

“I’ve got some hot water here,” Seokjin almost sang as he entered the bathroom with a large, steaming kettle. 

Jungkook avoided your gaze as you looked at him, and you wondered what he had wanted to ask. Instead, you watched Seokjin add the boiling water to the cold water in the tub and the level slowly rose. 

“There,” Seokjin said, extending a hand into the water before nodding in satisfaction and standing back up, “that should be warm enough.” He smiled at you. “I’ll go ahead and pack up and then wait for you. Take your time though, it’s only four thirty and we still have some time before dawn.”

“Thank you, Seokjin,” you returned quietly, and Seokjin disappeared from the bathroom. 

The warm water slowly warmed even the small room and a bead of sweat made its way from your hairline down your temple. 

“I’d better leave you to it.” 

When you turned your gaze back in Jungkook’s direction, you saw a slight flush of red on his cheeks. You just hoped you hadn’t infected him. Especially since you didn’t even know why you had suddenly gotten sick. It must have been the hours of wandering around in wet clothes…

“Can you stay, maybe?” 

Jungkook’s head whirled around and with wide eyes he looked at you. 

“I just mean that you’ll be around in case something happens,” you clarified. Only now did you realize that your question could be misunderstood. 

Almost inaudibly, Jungkook expelled the air. “Of course,” he replied, smiling, “I wouldn’t have left you all alone anyway.”

That reassured you. The fact that you had just almost fainted worried you a little. You hadn’t felt that way in years, and you didn’t want to be found unconscious on the bathroom floor. Once all those years ago had been enough for you. 

“I’ll be waiting outside. If you need help, let me know.” He pulled the door shut behind him, but left it open a crack. Like your owners had done when you had once again been unable to sleep because of a thunderstorm and they had left your bedroom door ajar. 

You shook your head to dispel these thoughts and struggled to pull your t-shirt over your head. It stuck to your skin, which didn’t make it any easier, but a short time later it was on the floor next to the tub and your other clothes you had been wearing. Your arm trembled as you rested your hands on the edge of the tub and slowly lowered one leg into the warm water. It was hot, but not scalding hot, so you pulled your other leg behind you and tried to let yourself slide slowly into the water. 

Your legs gave way and before you knew it, you were underwater. Your head hurt where you had hit the edge of the tub and, coughing, you straightened your upper body so that you could breathe again. 

“Are you okay?” Jungkook sounded concerned and you could make out a shadow in the gap between the door and the door frame. 

You coughed out the last of the water you had swallowed. “Yeah,” you croaked, “I just slipped.”

“Can I come in?”

You agreed, and not a second later he pushed the door open. You pulled your legs up to your torso and tried to take a breath. 

“What happened?” He took the two steps toward you, that’s all it took for him, and dropped to his knees beside the tub. 

“I slipped,” you repeated, as if it was not a big thing and not as if a thick bump was already forming on the back of your head. 

“Did you hurt yourself?” Jungkook’s gaze scanned your face, your bare shoulders, and your arms, which you had crossed over your knees. Your cheeks were warm anyway, but under Jungkook’s insistent gaze, they began to glow a little hotter. 

“I’m fine.” You threw him a smile, even though you would have loved to burst into tears and be hugged. 

Jungkook looked over your head – or at least you thought he did, until he cautiously raised a hand and his fingertips gently brushed the wet fur of your ears. “Can I ask something?” He spoke softly, but his voice traveled pleasantly loudly through the small room. You nodded silently. “You’re a golden retriever, aren’t you? I’ve never seen a dog like you before.”

You watched Jungkook’s arm, stretched out beside your head, and out of the corner of your eye you could see the veins snaking across his skin like a network of their own. His fingers traveled lower, over your hair, to your cheek. His eyes followed his fingers, watching as they touched your skin and as the skin beneath grew a little warmer. Then he looked up at you, questioningly. His hand sank to the edge of the bathtub.

“Uh,” you answered quickly, “I’m not really sure. I know I have mostly golden retriever in me, but I don’t know the rest.”

Jungkook’s eyebrows lifted in wonder. In the early days of hybrid breeding, more and more mixed breeds had appeared. People had experimented more, had become bolder, and had tried to push the boundaries of nature. Just a few years before you were born, this had led to torture breeding and riots because people could no longer control the hybrids. Since then, the breeding of hybrids was under strict regulations. 

“Did you grow up with the family that abandoned you?”

You could tell from Jungkook’s face that he already knew the answer to that question. Still, you shook your head. “I lived in a breeding house for the first ten, eleven years,” you explained, trying to suppress the images that came into your head. “That’s where I met my best friend. Thanks to him, I got out of there before it was too late.” Too late in breeding houses meant either that the supervisors deemed a hybrid capable of procreation – or not. No one had ever told you what happened if you didn’t meet the requirements, but you could guess. 

“I ended up in a shelter where it wasn’t much better. But my owners adopted me a few years later.”

“And that’s where you were until yesterday?”

You nodded. “It never occurred to me that I wouldn’t have a home someday. When I was adopted, I thought that would be my forever home.” You sighed. Your head was pounding, whether from the warmth of the water, because of the nerve-wracking conversation, because you just hit your head or because you’d caught a fat cold, you didn’t know. You rested your cheek on your knees and closed your eyes for a moment. 

“But you’re not alone anymore,” Jungkook said, “I hope you know that.”

You didn’t want to open your eyes, afraid that the tears forming behind your eyelids would roll down your cheeks. Instead, you turned your head and buried your face in your knees. You hoped that Jungkook would dismiss the sniffling as a symptom of the cold. 

“Okay, I’ll leave you alone again. If you need anything, you let me know, all right?” 

You nodded and continued to stare at your thighs. 

“And not only after you slip,” Jungkook added and you could hear the smile in his voice. Then you listened to his footsteps and the door, which clicked softly as Jungkook pulled it shut behind him. You took another deep breath before you lifted your head and the tears finally found their way down your cheeks. 

. . .

Someone had put your backpack in front of the bathroom door and you were glad to finally wear your freshly washed clothes again. Even if the sweat ran down your back again when you arrived in the living room. It was lit by the fire in the stove, just like the night before, and as you looked out the window, you saw the sky gradually turning gray. The perfect time to leave. 

Seokjin was zipping up a backpack when he caught sight of you. “Are you ready?” He had hidden his ears under a cap, only his tail you could see poking out of his jeans. 

You nodded, even though you could barely stay on your feet. However, you felt much better after the bath. 

“Do you think you can make it to the pharmacy by yourself?”

“Yes,” you said, even though you weren’t sure at that moment. But what alternative did you have? 

“I can come too,” said Jungkook again, who was standing next to the front door. There was no sign of Namjoon, perhaps he had gone back to sleep. 

Seokjin slung his backpack over his shoulder and stepped toward the door. “Namjoon is right, Jungkookie. Two of us are faster and draw less attention.”

A contradiction was on Jungkook’s lips as his gaze fell on you. You were struggling to find the sleeve of your jacket. Your upper arms were burning as if you had carried numerous heavy boxes up several flights of stairs, but you grit your teeth and got it on the second try. 

“If all goes well, we’ll be back in two hours,” Seokjin said, opening the door. Immediately, the cool morning air poured into the room and shivering, you pulled your jacket tighter around yourself. 

“What if it doesn’t?” 

“Namjoon knows what he has to do.” With that, Seokjin left the hut. 

You followed him, but Jungkook held you back by your sleeve. “Take care of yourself.”

“Don’t worry so much about me, Jungkook. Seokjin will be there if anything happens.” You threw him a sincere smile. “I’ll be fine.”

“I hope so,” he replied with a sigh, then let you go through the door as well. 

. . .

Jungkook had been pacing around the living room for hours, or so it seemed to him. In the meantime, Jimin had also woken up and was watching the other from the sofa. Namjoon had disappeared into the forest shortly after you and Seokjin had left and would probably not return for a few hours. Although Jungkook needed someone to talk to. He needed his pack leader. 

“Jungkook, you’re making me nervous,” Jimin whined, throwing away the book he had been trying to read. “Sit down, please.”

“I can’t, they’ve been gone far too long,” Jungkook muttered to himself, turning on his heel to walk back in the other direction. When he reached the window, he peered through it to see if he might have missed the sound of the engine. But nothing, the driveway was still as empty as it had been thirty seconds ago. 

“Nothing will have happened, why don’t you sit down first?” 

Jimin sounded annoyed, which was the only reason Jungkook did what he was asked. Nonetheless, he had his gaze out the window. Until he suddenly felt a hand on his knee. Only now did he realize how he had been nervously bouncing his leg up and down. 

“Thank you.” Jimin let himself sink back into the sofa. 

“Sorry, I’m just worried,” Jungkook muttered. 

“I can tell.”

Jimin’s undertone made Jungkook’s gaze slide to him. He only smiled slightly, however. 

“What?” Jungkook heard for himself how annoyed he sounded. He didn’t know himself why he was so agitated. He trusted Seokjin to bring you back safely, but he didn’t trust the people you would come in contact with. 

“Nothing, nothing,” Jimin replied, picking up his book again. Remarkably interested, he flipped through it to the page where he had left off. 

Jungkook leaned forward and snatched the book from the older hybrid’s hand. The latter cried out in surprise. “Hey!” He tried to reach for the book, but Jungkook held it behind his body out of reach. “Give me my book back.”

“Not until you tell me what you mean by it.” They looked at each other for a moment until Jimin finally dropped back into the sofa with his arms crossed. 

“Fine, as you like.” He raised both eyebrows as he uttered the next sentence, “You sure seem to care about her. In such a short time, too.”

“Oh, shut up.” Jungkook threw the book at Jimin with a little more force than necessary, but Jimin caught it and just laughed. 

“You’re the one who wanted me to say it! Then don’t complain if you don’t want to hear it.” The corners of Jimin’s mouth continued to twitch upward, and Jungkook eyed it with a scowl. But then he lowered his gaze to his feet and let Jimin’s words sink in. 

He knew that Jimin was right. 

The day before, when he had seen Namjoon walking towards him and the others with you on his arm and had watched you fall, he had come running straight towards you. He understood Namjoon and also understood why he was so cautious. On the other hand, Jungkook sometimes felt that his empathy fell short for that. He would never hold that against Namjoon, because he knew that a leader had to be tough in the right situations. 

But you were different, you weren’t a threat. If anything, they were a threat to you. And yet you were so open to him and gave them all your belongings without thinking about it – no matter how Namjoon had treated you. You had that in common, that you were perhaps a little too naive at times. He could see in your eyes that this had also let you fly on your face a time or two. 

Jungkook was about to respond, when suddenly the door opened and he was about to jump up and ask what had taken so long, when he realized that it was Namjoon who stepped through the door. Disappointed, he let himself fall backwards and the sofa creaked under his weight. Eventually it would collapse, sooner rather than later. And that was only because Taehyung had jumped on it a few months ago. Since then, the frame had a big crack in the wood. He could still hear Seokjin complaining to this day. 

“Hey, where have you been?” asked Jimin, straightening up. 

Namjoon stood in the middle of the room and glanced at the kitchen. Then he turned to the two younger hybrids. “Are they still not back?”

Jimin shook his head while Jungkook’s gaze rested stubbornly on the grain of the tree trunk that served as a coffee table. 

Namjoon thought for a moment and opened his mouth to say something before his gaze fell on Jungkook and he changed his mind. Instead, he said, “Well, nothing will have happened.”

Jungkook snorted at that statement and jumped to his feet. “Come on, why don’t you say it, Namjoon? You think that she betrayed us and that’s why they haven’t come back yet.” Jungkook was about to walk past Namjoon, but he held him back with a firm grip on his shoulder. 

“Stay here,” he said in a firm voice, “We’ve talked about this before, Jungkook. You don’t throw things at someone’s head and then take off without resolving the issue. That’s no way to treat family.”

Jungkook backed away. “Then why do you treat her like that? She didn’t do anything to you.”

“Because I have to protect my family,” Namjoon explained, as if it was the easiest thing in the world. And for him, it was. “You must understand,” he continued, and this time his voice was softer, “after what happened with that bastard.” His expression hardened again. 

Jimin made an approving noise from the couch. 

Jungkook slumped his shoulders. “I can understand that, but Y/N is not him.”

A sad smile stole onto Namjoon’s face. “I know.” He paused for a moment. “She’s like you.”

This statement made Jungkook stop his tirade and pause. 

“She really reminds me a little of you.” Namjoon shook his head with a slight smile as he traveled back a few years in his mind. Then he took a few steps towards the sofa and eventually sank down onto it. “It’s been over seven years, but the look on your face when Jimin came stumbling through the door of our old house with you in tow is something I’ll probably never forget.”

“We were looking for shelter,” Jimin recalled, and the two men looked at each other, reminiscing. 

“It’s only thanks to you two that Seokjin is still with us.” 

An uncomfortable silence settled in the room and none of them said anything. Jungkook could hear a low thumping upstairs, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Namjoon’s and Jimin’s ears twitch as well. 

“Is Taehyung still sleeping?” asked Namjoon with a new lightness in his voice. He was glad to be able to change the subject. 

“That’s right, it’s usually our Jungkookie who sleeps this late,” Jimin said with a grin in his direction. 

Namjoon laughed; softly, but he laughed. Then he patted his thighs and stood up again. In the sparsely furnished room, he looked even more imposing and taller than he already was. His black tail, streaked with gray-brown sprinkles hung relaxed down his body. 

He waited until Jungkook returned his gaze. “I’ll talk to her. And I’ll be nice, I promise,” he quickly added when he saw Jungkook’s expression. 

Jungkook visibly relaxed. For the first time in hours, his shoulders and the muscles in his ears loosened. “Thank you.”

And in that moment, Jungkook understood again why he had stayed then, all those years ago. Why he had put all his trust in Namjoon’s hands, put all his future in a hybrid whose pack consisted of no more than one other wolf, who was badly injured at the time. 

Emotions welled up inside him and his eyes began to burn, but then a sound outside made his head fly to the side. The sound of a car engine. 

A/N: It makes me really happy to see how you seem to enjoy the story this far, so I hope you liked this chapter as well! If so, please do let me know! Anyway, I hope you’re all doing well. Stay safe everyone and see you soon! 💜

Written 2022. Do not copy, translate or repost without permission.

[crookedlyinnernightmare]

Hm. It’s time to talk about how Saiki canonically has a grandaunt.

In chapter 255, the chapter where Kumi threatens to divorce Kumagoro, Kumi mentions that she will be staying with her sister until she finds a new place to live.

It’s a throwaway comment, probably just there to add some realism, but it holds so many possibilities! Saiki could have an entirely unknown branch of his family. Now, we know that Saiki’s powers are probably genetic since both he and his brother turned out amazing. It’s been further hypothesized that he gets them from Kurumi’s side of the family, considering the demonic “power” she gets when she’s angry. Well, in this same chapter we see that Kumi also has the demon aura.

If we’re rolling with this hypothesis, this scene indicates that Saiki’s powers are coming specifically from his grandmother, not his grandfather. We could confirm this theory using this mysterious grandaunt. If her side of the family is also producing psychics/geniuses, we know it’s because of her genes, not the genes of her hypothetical spouse.

Now, at this point I’m going to venture into pure hypotheticals, so bear with me please?

I shouldn’t be the only one seeing a pattern here right? Kusuo got his powers from his mother, who got her powers from her mother... I’m thinking that maybe these special genes are passed down specifically through the women in Saiki’s family. Of course, two isn’t enough to establish a pattern, and just look at Saiki! He’s a guy and he has powers!

But remember: Kusuo is trans. He was born female, and if psychic powers are actually a matrilineal trait, then that would explain how he managed to end up with them despite being a guy. Kusuke is special in his own way, but no psychic powers for him, just super smarts.

I saw a post somewhere that hypothesized that the reason Kuriko doesn’t have any visible limiters is because Kusuo’s psychic powers are stable within his original form. Personally, I think it’d make even more sense if the reason Kusuo’s powers are wonky in his male body is because they straight up weren’t designed for males, the same way they’re not designed for a cat or a dog. Theoretically, Kusuo could overcome this by transforming back into Kuriko and then transitioning like an average human.

...Well. For him that might be difficult. He couldn’t get top surgery nor T-shots because medical instruments would break upon contact with his skin. He could probably use a binder and get a different testosterone preparation, but that would require him to go to a doctor. Risky business, it could mean his powers being accidentally exposed. Maybe he could pull a few favors through Kusuke, but bargaining with that guy is... blergh. Not great. Would that put Kusuo in his debt? Probably, so never mind. The easiest option here is to keep using his transformed body and deal with the consequences. RIPPPP (rest in poorly planned psychic powers).

[that-one-weeb-but-it-transformer]

Can you do tfp ratchet bulkhead and Starscream human s/o with POTS(or just a chronic illness if that is to specific)crying because they’re tired of family and doctors telling what is and isn’t wrong with their body and giving them unhelpful advice.

I’m sorry if this is too much but I’m going through this right now and I really just need some comfort. It’s cool if you don’t feel like doing this one though.

The Bots with a S/0 that has POTS

Notes: I'd love to do it for you! And homie if you ever need a hug. I got you. I can understand how difficult things like this can be so if you ever just wanna talk even if its a hello how are you. I'd be happy to talk to you. Also have a hard time writing Starscream I never know why

Characters: Bulkhead, Ratchet, Starscream

⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶

⊷⊶⊷⊶Bulkhead⊷⊶⊷⊶

Doesnt exactly understand POTS no matter how much you explain it to him

He knows though, if you go up. Theres a possibly of you going down hard

He's a sweet soul so he's always asking how your day was

And some days. Its just bad

Some days when he picks you up he can already hear the arguing before you even get out the house

"Take your meds!"

"They don't work!"

"Be reasonable Y/n!"

"They don't work!"

Bulkhead even knows they dont work. And you're brusing easier.

So what does he do to try and cheer you up?

"Hey why don't me make your bruisies into drawings! Miko does that with my battle scars!"

It makes you feel happy that someones actually trying to make you feel better

He acts like you dont even have anything wrong with you

Well he accomidates the best he can. Like sticking his foot out when you start to fall over to atleast catch yourself on something

Miko recommended him they should tucktape pillows to his peds

You called him crying just wanting him to pick you up after a mentally abusing day

You're doctors are trying to put you on a Home IV and you heard your parents talk about simply just admitting you to the hopsital

Bulkhead gladly picked you up and you dont wanna talk about it

Okay thats fine

"Oh! Miko picked up your favorite! Its in my glove box!"

Chinese hot dog buns with a bottle of water. Full of salt. And a great comfort food for you

Two in one

Especially when you've been crying alot

"Are you gonna stop being friends with me if my family puts me in the hospital?"

"What? Why would you think that?"

"People dont like being friends with problem people..."

"Ah! That's a bunch of scrap." He defended, "You're awesome!"

He's text book defenition of emotional support

He checks up on you regularly as you often take naps

Knows your whole medication list by the dinosaur stickers you label them with and your whole when you gotta take what

He helps you decorate your medicane bottles, makes them less intimidating some times

You actually draw little deerpy bulkheads on your medicane caps now

When you have to go get refills he'll drive you and the pharmacist thinks the bottle Decor is cute

Calls you a good influence to the little kids who get scared of medication

Its all thanks to Bulkhead really: he's there for you

⊷⊷⊶⊷Ratchet⊶⊷⊶⊷

Actually

He had to find out himself, or more of force it out of you.

All the brusies and the suddenly going pale. He knows your secretly taking pills too

He doesnt exactly know what your doing

But he knows you're hiding something

"What are you taking?"

"What? Nothing." Y/n spoke dry swallowing the pills as quick as Y/n could, no one had to know.

"What are you taking."

"Nothing Ratchet."

"Y/n."

Y/n eyes rolled, "its medicane."

"Are you sick?"

Y/n looked at him and nodded shortly, "in a way yeah"

And thats how he learns about you having POTS

He ask how your doing physically and not much about you mentally

He tends to stay away from connection in general due to the past but with you he wants to be invested but doesn't completely at the same time.

But once you call him real late at night crying he's emotionally invested.

He's a doctor yeah but knows squat shit about human bodies, so it's more of you see Ratchet as a "friend" (yeah right your invested) than a doctor

"They wanna put me on a home iv." Y/n told him, all curled up in his passenger seat, "I already know it won't work. I've tried it before."

"Perhaps diffrent Medication?" Ratchet suggested.

Y/n shrugged, "I...I'm tired of med's Ratchet."

"I know." He spoke, "Are they giving you any other options?"

"Service Animal. More Meds or an IV." Y/n told him, "Dad just wants to leave me at a hospital."

Ratchet's in silence, he sitting in thought, "Perhaps that's for the best. Perhaps not a hospital. But to leave."

"You mean like take a break from my family?" Y/n questioned, "I guess..."

So Ratchet let you room with him for a few days.

Its kept secret.

You're very happy that you're not as bad as you usually are. And was happy to see Stress was making your dizzy spells worse and more frequent.

Luckily you're relaxed with Ratchet and he asked genuine questions about what your illness truly is

So he makes sure you eat, drink lots of water, always keeps tabs on you.

And to enforce you eating and drinking, he forces himselves to take scheduled breaks

Those forced breaks allow both of you to relax and even allow Ratchet to work better.

But sometimes you still gotta just like lay down.

Even if its on his work space.

"Are you alright?"

"Just a bad one is all."

And he leaves it at that. Sure he still watches over you but he's not gonna baby you

Not over something he knows you have in control

But occasionally he does become helicopter mom

⊷⊶⊷Starscream⊷⊶⊷

Could absolutely careless to be honest

The veichons probally cared more about you than anything

That was in the beginning of course

Until he realized alot of the veichons started taking random ass breaks with you

Litterally sat in the hallway with you while you're tryin to even out

High altitude on the nemsis especially if your on the dock makes it worse

He teases you about it: saying fleshies are scared of height

But like no bro. Your about to litterally pass out

Thanks Breakdown for atleast be like "ayo. She's litterally dieing."

He finally sees this is a bit more than a height issue

No shit

He finally starts taking notice seeing you napping alot in Knockouts medbay

"Great. A screamer and a neglecting mech is in the medbay." Breakdown grumbled.

"Ignore him," Knockout spoke waving off Starscream.

"Excuse me-"

He's basically ignored by the others.

Breakdowns basically your big brother and Starscream being neglectful of Y/n's health does not make him happy

Starscream finally comes around to ask you what the hell is actually happening.

But it turns into and arguement: you dont wanna tell him, and you're tryin to just keep tears back from before he picked you up w/ a ground bridge

"Doesn't matter."

"It quiet obviously does if you're little medbay group is all over it."

"Oh please." Y/n grumbled the stopped, Y/n feeling Rocky, "shit..."

Y/n immediately takes a seat, right there in the middle of the hall.

"Becoming Dizzy?" A passing Veichon spoke.

"Yep."

Food was tossed a packet and a bottle of water by the veichon, both being terribly thrown Y/n's way.

"Thanks." Y/n spoke leaning over to grab the bag and water then looked up at Starscream and sighed, "I have POTS."

"You have what?"

So there you are explaining it to him

He's upset you didnt explain it to him sooner.

You shrugged as you ate the pretzels

No he's like genuinely upset

He's been watching over you this long and just now knows about this

How does he even research POTS? He did search it up but he just got pots you cool with

Soundwave helps, in the side research

Though he doesnt have much space to store you snacks, he knows the medbay has snacks for you

He also knows that you're most comfortable in the medbay as you're often sleeping more than 1/2 the day

So. He's often visiting the medbay even more than usual now

Even if your sleeping alot more and he doesn't get to talk to you as Much as he wants to, your health is more important

Keeps you away from the flight deck

Because if you suddenly get dizzy and tip the wrong way well.

He doesnt need a spark attack

[ledenews]

LEDE’s 2023 Person of the Year: Ohio County 911’s Theresa Russell

She’s sassy, inquisitive, original, dynamic, amiable, careful, wise, comical, assured, and wired like the world depends on it. And on most days, someone’s world most definitely depends on it. She’s Theresa Russell, the director of the 911 Center in Ohio County, West Virginia for the past 32 years. She was hired as a dispatcher in 1989 and promoted to the top of the department just two years later, and now Russell is finally planning her rightful retirement to become official at some point in 2024. During her career, the 911 Center has changed from a city department to a county agency, emergency services have exponentially expanded, and advancements in telecommunication technology have been introduced at a rapid pace since the advent and implementation of the internet. She and her dispatchers speak daily with first responders with Wheeling’s fire and police departments, and also with the Ohio County EMS and with seven volunteer fire departments. But only after someone with an emergency dials those digits. “And you don't call 911 when you're having your best day,” said Lou Vargo, the director of the Ohio County Emergency Management Agency. “You’re calling 911 when you need help and you're under stress because something is very, very wrong. Unless it’s one of those calls about a neighbor’s dog barking or a blocked driveway, someone needs help in the worst way. The Ohio County 911 Dispatch Center services Wheeling's fire and politce departments, the seven VFDs in the county, and the County EMS squads. “I can tell you the people in Ohio County are lucky Theresa has been the director for as long as she has because she always has her dispatchers ready for anything,” he insisted. “It’s going to be difficult to fill that position because it’s impossible to ever replace her.” Year after year, firefighters and emergency medical personnel in Ohio County have set new records for the number of times the first responders have been called into action. In 2022, for example, the Wheeling Fire Department answered an all-time record 8,313 emergency calls, an increase of 464 from the year before. Most often, the responses have not concerned tragedy but instead criminal activity, automobile accidents, small kitchen flames, neighborhood complaints, welfare checks, and yes, calls from homes where someone has fallen and can’t get up. “You have to want to do it. There’s a commitment there. And to want to be the director of a 911 center takes a very special person who wants to help,” Vargo said. “People have bad days, and if Theresa has to step in, she steps in. It’s not an easy position at all because of everything that can happen on any given day. It’s personal, too, and that can cause issues, too. “It’s a job not a lot of people even think about. It’s 911, so there’s always someone on the end of the line every day. We take it for granted,” he said. “But Theresa – as the director – hasn’t been able to take 9-1-1 for granted for a lot of years and that’s only one of a lot of reasons I’m happy for her. I think retirement will agree with her.” The Ohio County 911 Dispatch Center currently has a position to fill and has posted the job description online. Screams in Dreams At every moment of every day, the next ring is as unpredictable as the last one. Is it a fender bender? A domestic? Has a grandmother gone wandering? “Sometimes when you call 911, it’s a medical emergency and the person on the other end of the phone needs to know how to help in those emergency situations. Sometimes a person’s heart has stopped and if the person calling doesn’t know CPR, the dispatcher has to explain how over the phone. Step by step.0 “Theresa can do that and so can her dispatchers because she makes sure they can. She makes sure they are trained to give instructions until the first responders arrive at the scene,” he explained. “That was a program she instituted years ago and it’s spread to other area.  I’m sure it’s saved thousands of lives, and it’s helped so much because when people do call, they’re stressed and usually not thinking clearly.” Russell knows the needs. She realizes it’s nowhere near easy. And some calls haunt her, too. Those are three of the reasons why replacing her is considered a monumental task by Vargo, and by husband Randy, who, by the way, just happens to be the administrator of the Ohio County Commission. Randy and Theresa have been married since 2006 and Mr. Russell was Ohio County's projects manager before he was hired as administrator in March 2021. “I think the biggest thing is that Theresa has always been a working director of 911, and that means she’s always been a director who can help, but can also sit in the chair, too,” Vargo explained. “Theresa has great dispatchers that handle the day-to-day operations while she takes care of all of the administrative work, but when we have a major incident going on, she gets right in the middle of it and does everything she can to help. “If she’s short a person on a shift, she’s always sat right down at the console to take care of things,” he said. “That’s always been one her greatest strengths, and it’s also why her employees respect her. When she is training new employees, they can be sure they’ve being taught by one of the best in the business.” Russell won’t leave until someone worthy is prepared to sit in the seat. But even then, will she be able to stop protecting the folks in Ohio County? “Those who have been employed in emergency response for a career have a tough time getting it out of their system, and I don’t think that ever really happens because of the adrenaline. We’re adrenaline junkies, and we know it,” Vargo said with a chuckle. “But now Theresa is retiring and at first I’m sure it will be peaceful. Like I said, I think retirement will agree with her, but I bet she’s going to miss it after a pretty short period of time because I’ve known others who have retired and that’s what’s happened. “That’s why I’m sure the next time we have a big emergency, Theresa will call whoever the new director is and offer to come in and help. I know she will, and that new director hopefully will be smart enough to say yes,” he added. “These calls get into your dreams because the calls are about fires, accidents, babies not breathing … the worst of the worst. No one calls 9-1-1 to ask how a dispatcher is doing that day. They call because something is very wrong and they are hoping and praying the person on the other side can do something to help. That’s exactly what Theresa has done for almost 35 years.” Read the full article

[star-anise]

I read your post about trauma and I'm trying to make sense of my parents treatment of me as well as my own diagnoses. Is anxiety itself trauma? Or a result of trauma? Its the stress response itself not calming down. I think I was and am emotionally neglected. My parents are not sympathetic. I'm adhd anxiety depression my whole life. That post about learning new social situation techniques really resonated. What are the treatments for neglect? Besides plain old cbt and mindfulness and anti anxiety meds

Trigger warning: Child abuse, child neglect, emotional neglect

Anxiety can happen because of a wide variety of reasons, from medical to situational to genetic. It could happen out of the blue to a totally healthy adult. Or it might be a symptom of trauma and a bad childhood. PTSD used to be classified as a kind of anxiety disorder, but we now understand it's a lot more complicated.

I'm very sorry your family aren't sympathetic and don't get what's up with you. I want to make it very clear that it is not your fault that they aren't sympathetic.

It's not your fault for not explaining things clearly enough. It's not your fault for not being a more lovable child. It's not your fault for being emotional or oversensitive. It's not your fault for not communicating your needs in a way they can hear. Their treatment of you is not your fault.

That's important not just because it feels good to be absolved of blame. It's not a meaningless platitude. It's a nicer coating on what can sometimes be a very bleak truth. That truth is:

There is nothing you can do to make your family be sympathetic to you.

I am so, so, so sorry. You can spend your entire life turning backflips, you can learn interpretive dance, you can become the world's leading expert in your field, you can get hit by a car and find out you have cancer, you can be as sympathetic and understanding about their reasons for neglecting you as they could possibly want, you could do everything in your power to be a good child, and none of that will ever give you the power to make your parents be sympathetic to you and what you've been through.

Sometimes parents do learn and grow and change and work to repair the damage done while their kids were children. But that's because of their own issues and experiences and reasons, not because of anything their children have done. Many parents keep being oblivious and neglectful even when their children have become everything a parent could ever hope for.

Actually, an amazing number of my adult neurodivergent friends have had the absolutely excruciating experience of hearing their parents say, in essence, "Hey adult child! The other day someone I respect way more than you told me about [your condition], and I was astonished! They told me that thing you've been telling me for years, and it blew my mind. I now realize that this is a real part of your life! Wow, it sure would have made a difference if I'd done that thing you've been begging me to do for years now, huh? Hey, have you heard about this handy behavioural technique you've been doing every goddamn day of your adult life? It sounds like it would really help!"

Like, even if your parents ever Get It about your specific disorders and conditions, they're extremely likely to salvage their self-esteem by refusing to ever seriously acknowledge how much it's hurt that they've failed you.

And what that means is: You have to plan the rest of your life as if they will never be sympathetic.

That might mean never giving them any say over your medical care or personal life choices. It might mean not living with them, not turning to them when you need a supportive community, or not letting them play a large role in the lives of any children you yourself may have. It might mean having to build your own support network that doesn't include your family at all, because you can't count on them to care when you're in distress. It can really suck to have to keep giving up the dream that one day you'll be able to count on your family to nurture you emotionally, but I promise that it sucks less than being continually disappointed with no backup plan.

Researching emotional neglect can be really difficult because a lot of the best research psychology as a field has achieved on the topic comes from really extreme forms of neglect and abuse. Exactly the kind of neglect and abuse that society waves in the face of the "merely" emotionally neglected: "So what if you didn't get hugged enough! You had enough to eat, a roof over your head, and they never hit you! They weren't even mean or malicious! Stop whining!"

And... look, if you've just broken your legs and you're in a wheelchair, who would you rather learn about using a wheelchair from: someone who can easily walk everywhere all the time, or a double amputee who's been using a wheelchair for years? The first person can probably get around more easily, but the second one can tell you a lot more about the specific challenges and skills that will be central to this phase of your life.

That's the frame I propose for research: Your life might not have been as bad as the case studies you read (though it's probably worse than your family is willing to admit, because invalidation is itself a form of emotional neglect, and this is so common there's even a poem about it) but the issues they encounter and the skills they require are probably useful to you, too.

With that in mind, check out books about early childhood neglect and trauma like The Boy Who Was Raised as a Dog by Bruce Perry, which talks about the parts of the brain and developmental stages that can be impaired by toxic stress in childhood, and the various forms of treatment that can address each one.

As far as CBT, remember to focus on behaviour, not just cognition. Reading about using touch to self-soothe is good, but less powerful than using that knowledge to find a blanket you love to touch, and wrapping yourself up in it whenever you're upset. Neglect means that you failed to get repeated, predictable experiences of being comforted. Healing therefore means getting that practice in as an adult: Creating thousands of daily, repetitive experiences of being cared about. Caring about yourself, and finding people who will care about you.

Maybe also give Dialectical Behaviour Therapy workbooks a try? They're designed for Borderline Personality Disorder, which can be seen as a specific subset of complex trauma. Like, if the effects of childhood abuse and neglect were a rainbow, BPD might be red-orange. But what makes DBT useful is that it has examined which skills and coping mechanisms vital to emotional health people with BPD most commonly weren't taught/never learned/need more practice on. The curriculum might not overlap completely with your own needs if you fall into the yellow, green, blue, or violet aspects of C-PTSD, but it's a good starting place when you're inventorying skills and habits you want to strengthen.

Good luck? I hope this helps!

[alaskasmonsters]

Gentle Hands | Shigaraki Tomura

with a quirk like shigaraki’s, physical touch had never been something another person had trusted him with. the fear of what he could do proved to be too great to get close enough. everyone was scared to touch him...everyone but you.

part two 

pairing: shigaraki tomura x gn!reader

w.c: 3. 223

warnings: canon-typical violence, mentions of blood, descriptions of injuries, shigs is touch-starved :c

a.n: this took me way too long to turn out like this...i seriously don’t know what happened along the way but this was meant to go an entirely different direction...idek.

Shigaraki’s room was enveloped in darkness. The only source of light coming from where you had carefully cracked the door open after several unanswered knocks. It barely illuminated the small space inside, only revealing the silhouettes and rough placement of the furniture.

You’d never been inside of Shigaraki’s room before. There had never been a reason.

As the league’s personal medical support (or nurse, something Dabi liked to refer you to) you’d mostly only talked to any of them if there was an emergency that required your help. Then they’d meet you in the “living room” (you hesitated using homey words like that in connection to the hovel the members of the league had resided in the last few months).

Not that you didn’t get along with them, but you couldn’t really say you were particularly close with any of them. Criminals liked to keep their distance. Distance meant safety, it was the first rule in the handbook basically. Shigaraki was no different. He was the most mysterious of them you’d say, even more distanced with you it seemed. Saying there was no reason to grow attached to a NPC, like you were a dog that would be returned to their rightful owner soon anyway.

It didn’t bother you much. You knew the man needed his personal space, he had his reasons to be suspicious of new people, to be hesitant to let anyone too close...they all had.

That’s the price they paid in a life like that, or maybe they had already been like this before they ever became villains.

Entering Shigaraki’s room now and without permission was probably the closest you’ve ever come to being disintegrated, you thought as you carefully peeked inside. The guilt from intruding already crawled up your stomach. You wouldn’t normally do this, but you were worried after Kurogiri had told you about an “incident” this morning.

It had left Shigaraki badly injured and hiding himself in the darkness of his own four walls, since they had returned. Kurogiri hadn’t told you any details, but you could tell whatever happened had been bad, judging by his concerned tone when he’d requested you to look after the man. He asked you to heal him even if he were to refuse and you had agreed immediately, although you doubted you’d get close enough to Shigaraki if he didn’t want it.

The darkness was thick before your eyes, you could hardly tell the difference between the bed and the rest of the room. Not even the tv’s light was burning...you had expected Shigaraki to play a game if he really were as frustrated as Kurogiri had made it sound like.

The only reason you spotted a glimpse of where the man was located was due to the way the light reflected off the white strands of his hair. He was on the ground behind his bed.

“Shigaraki?” you called his name softly, not sure if he’d already noticed you or if maybe he’d fallen asleep.

You got no answer.

“Kurogiri sent me. Can I come in?”

You waited a minute, probably longer, but when there was still no answer you let out a heavy sigh.

“I’ll take that as a “I don’t mind either way”.”

You squeezed through the small space between the frame and the door, not daring to expose the man to more of the light he seemed to be so sensitive to. At least you guessed that that was the reason he was sitting in the darkness. Maybe he was just feeling emo, Shigaraki seemed the type.

You closed the door behind you, plunging the room into darkness again. This turned out to be a bad idea, since now you were both without sight and you had to slowly and carefully approach where you remembered the bed to be. You could only speak of luck you hadn’t bumped into anything before you made contact with the bedframe, using it to navigate closer to where you suspected Shigaraki to cower at, sliding down to sit on the ground as well.

You sat in silence for a while, making sure he didn’t want you to leave after all, but Shigaraki stayed quiet, the only sign he was still next to you was the sound of his ragged breathing.

You debated what would be the best approach. Should you scoot closer? Maybe you should start with telling him Kurogiri had sent you? Or maybe you could let the two of you stay in silence for a little while?

Approaching Shigaraki when he was in a vulnerable state was similar to a wild animal that had been injured. You had to be careful about it.

“You hurt your hands,” the words slipped your mouth.

Not careful enough.

Had you seriously gone with the worst approach you could have possibly chosen? Good job, Y/n!

Shigaraki didn’t curse you out so you guessed it was fine after all. Maybe his hands were off worse than you had initially thought...

“I want to fix them, if that’s alright but i’d need a little bit of light to do so,” you explained, keeping your voice quiet and calm.

There wasn’t an answer for several minutes. You started to grow restless, thinking that maybe you had overstepped a line, maybe it was better if you left again…

Before you could though you heard a grumbling agreement, barely audible, much closer than you had expected. A second later a dim light illuminated the small room.

You had to close your eyes to adjust to the sudden brightness before you could finally look at Shigaraki, who was sitting a few feet away from you, his back leaned against the matratze of his bed.

He looked miserable, his face was lowered so he couldn’t meet your eyes and his features were hidden by the messy white locks.

But what shocked you most was his hands. He had spread his fingers, palms up, on his lap so you saw the actual damage that the attacker had done.

His palms were blood-smeared, cut open, some cuts running so deep you thought you could see parts of the bone peaking out from between the damaged skin.

You felt bile rise up your throat at the view.

It looked painful, cruel. As if someone had tried to ruin his hands in the most painful way possible.

You inched closer, eyes trained on the damage.

Shigaraki tensed up as you scooted closer and you stopped immediately, looking up into his face, making sure you didn’t overstep again.

He was still avoidant of your eyes, shrunken in on himself with his shoulders hunched. He looked like a scared child to you...

“May I?” you asked him, desperately hoping he’d say yes.

His eyes only flickered between you and his hands once before he gave a soft nod.

You carefully reached out to grab the backside of his hands, meaning to pull them closer for you to inspect. The way Shugaraki froze at your touch made you pause and you realized with dread that you had forgotten to ask if it was okay to touch him. He must be in pain, of course he was.

You quickly removed your hands again, giving him a concerned look.

“I’m sorry Shigaraki-kun, did i hurt you?”

He frowned at your question, eyes quickly jumping between your expression and your hands just inches beneath his, waiting to reach out again if he’d allowed it.

He seemed conflicted for a second, but then he shook his head.

You chose not to question it, only giving a soft nod in response before reaching out again. This time you gently wrapped your fingers around his wrists instead, drawing his hands closer so you could inspect them better.

The light was still too dim to see the most gruesome parts of the injury, but even without it you could easily get an idea of what had occured.

The wounds were too deep, the blood that came out of the slashes in a dark flow...this wasn’t caused by a normal knife. Rather by another person’s quirk, one related to mutilation because how else would you describe the cruelty of the wounds inflicted.

It probably made it impossible to heal by itself, too.

Whoever did this had wanted to make Shigaraki’s quirk absolutely useless, damaging his hands beyond repair in the most cruel way.

And while you did know he’d caused a lot of pain with those hands, the idea someone had tried to mutilate them made you sick to your stomach.

You let out a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down as you leaned down to hover just above Shigaraki’s hands.

Thankfully the league of villains had you and your quirk, seeing as you could heal almost everything, as long as the wound was still fresh and cells weren’t too damaged to manipulate.

Dabi had been the one to introduce you since he’d found you years before when you first started helping him with his unfit quirk. You weren’t a villain, only by association, but you’d always had a soft spot for difficult cases. You hadn’t been able to heal his scars then, since the cells were already dead and the injuries were old and your quirk wouldn’t let you revive anything. But you’d suggested to take care of all the newer wounds

Now you were working with the league of villains or maybe helped out was a better way to phrase it, considering the only method of payment you’d receive was fast food.

You focused your attention on Shigaraki’s injuries, leaning even closer to be able to see everything up close. It was necessary to use your quirk appropriately.

“Ready?” you asked, eyes searching for Shigaraki.

They were wide and attentive. He looked nervous if you had to guess, although he would have denied it if you had asked.

He gave you a nod and you smiled at him, giving his wrists a reassuring squeeze. You decided to ignore the way his eyebrows knit together at the gesture. You imagined he didn’t like touch very much.

You shift your attention to his left palm first, removing your hand from where they had gripped the man’s wrist to let it hover over the injured skin. The tell-tale sign of buzzing spread through your skin as you focused all your senses on the damage you’d been inspecting.

The sight of the cuts running oh so deep, the smell of iron stinging your nose, the feeling of broken and ruined skin and bones and muscles.

A green light, slowly growing brighter and bigger, more intense in color too formed and enveloped your hand. Your fingers inching closer and closer to the bloodied and ripped skin. Just right before your hand would touch his you stopped, the light now extending until it was enveloping his hand as well.

Shigaraki’s fingers twitched, his wrist tensed under your touch. You pressed down on the juncture to reassure him you’d hurry up.

You watched his skin pulling bac, his hands shaking a little when you concentrated on repairing the muscles that have been torn apart before.

It was a slow process, you knew that. You were known for officiency not speed, after all. And you were aware it hurt, probably just as terrible as when the blade had ripped through his skin in the first place. Regenerating injuries like this would usually take weeks and months, a dozen operations and it still would never go back to the way it once was. Doing it your way, basically forcing the cells to regenerate, speeding up the natural process and enhancing it...it took energy from both you and him.

His breathing was ragged, his arm was shaking in your grip, more intense than before and you hated it, hated knowing he was hurting and you couldn’t do anything to make the process go smoother for him, make it hurt any less.

All you could think of was running your thumb over the inside of his wrists, trying to reassure him like that. Trying to signal him that it would be over soon.

You didn’t know if it helped but you certainly felt his body freeze up for a moment. Maybe that was just because of the procedure though.

You watched the skin grow over again, slowly, and leave behind a slightly bloodied but smooth skinned palm. Shigaraki sank back into his seat, letting out a small huff as the pain stopped.

You took the time to inspect his palm, letting your fingers glide over the smooth skin and noting how it all seemed to be back to how they were originally with joy.

“Does your left hand feel okay? Flex your fingers a little.”

When he stayed still you looked up, Shigaraki’s gaze already focused on your face. There was something unreadable in the way he looked at you. He almost looked confused.

You bit your lip, glancing between his hands and his face as dread slowly rose in your stomach.

“You can flex your fingers...right?” you asked nervously.

What if you made a mistake? What if you messed up with his muscles?

Shigaraki’s finger twitched, before he bent them. Spreading them apart before creating a fist. You quickly pulled your hand away to leave him the room to move around a little, returning to tap his skin once more when you saw he was done.

“You feel that?” you asked, less nervous now that you knew that he could still move it.

The only answer you got was a grunt but that’s all you needed.

You moved on to his right hand then. Clasping his wrist with one hand to stabilize him and raising your other just above his palm. You repeated the procedure once more, green light enveloping both your hands as your face was set into a deep frown of concentration.

You stroked his wrist with your thumb once more as soon as you felt Shigaraki tense up again.

He was trembling even harder this time and you couldn’t tell if it was only because he was already exhausted or because this hand had been through more damage.

All you could feel was that the level of damage must be similar, the time it took you to fix the connections of the muscles felt about the same. Then his skin grew over slowly.

You repeated your check up, smoothing your fingers over the skin of his palm and telling him to flex his fingers. He reacted quicker this time, clenching and unclenching his fist a few times.

You gave his wrist a last squeeze before you let go, satisfied and happy you’d done a good job. Of course you wouldn’t know for sure until a few days later when Shigaraki was able to tell you if his hands were giving him any problems. But for now Shigaraki looked a lot better.

His pale face had filled with a little bit of color again, although his eyes were weirdly unfocused as he lowered his head to inspect his hands. You watched him in confusion, as he flexed his fingers again. Wasn’t he sure if you’ve done a good job? Did he feel pain?

“Is everything alright? Wait, lemme see again.”

You leaned forward, softly gripping his hands to pull them closer to inspect once more. Shigaraki froze up at the contact again and you frowned when you saw that the skin was all smooth and fixed, giving no reason for the man to act so tensed up.

You searched his eyes, only finding him already staring at you with an undefinable look in his eyes. You were just about to open your mouth to ask him about it. Not necessarily why he was acting so weirdly, but more specifically what haunted him.

Before you could do that, he surprised you with pulling his hands back before opening his palms which were facing upwards.

You watched in confusion.

He stretched his fingers, raising his hand upwards. The motion made you cock your head to the side. He was looking at you with narrowed eyes, clearly expecting something from you. Thinking you knew what he tried to ask of you you placed your hand on top of his, noticing him spreading his thumb apart to not touch you with all five of his fingers.

Shigaraki searched your face for a reaction but you didn’t know what kind of reaction that was supposed to be.

“I knew you were kinda crazy but that’s another level.”

“Excuse me?” you gaped at him.

“Only a crazy person wouldn’t be afraid to touch me.”

Gears started turning in your head and your cheeks heated up at the realization that that had been the reason why he’d frozen up. He wasn’t used to touch. He had been probably overwhelmed having your hands all over him.

“Oh...I guess I trust you wouldn’t disintegrate my hands.”

He raised an eyebrow at you.

“I’m useful aren’t i? Maybe I'd be more worried about a foot or knee cap but I kinda need my hands for the healing.”

He hummed in agreement, seemingly satisfied knowing you weren’t a total moron.

Although to be quite honest you weren’t so sure if you’d flinch from his touch even if it was directed towards your face. You didn’t know if you had it in you to mistrust him. When it had come to this point you didn’t know, somewhere along the way you had just stopped questioning your growing positive feelings towards the leader of the league of villains (and the other members as well).

Sometimes you liked to think both of you had mutual respect for each other. Enough to not randomly disintegrate the other person, that was.

“I’m sorry i made you uncomfortable, though. I should have asked beforehand.”

He snorted, fingers flexing under your grip, bending to run them over the palms of your hand.

“I don’t mind,” he muttered.

You didn’t think it was all he had wanted to say, but whatever else tried to leave his mouth was held back by Shigaraki biting his lip. You didn’t question it.

The man continued exploring your skin and you  spread your fingers a little wider to give him more access. It was fascinating to you, how curiously he was exploring your skin, like a small child eager to experience new sensations. He had cocked his head to the side, eyeing you from beneath his hair, calculating, waiting.

He reached for your hand and you let him. Let him grip and turn it, until he could easily intertwine his fingers with yours, hesitant and careful to touch you, mindful to spread his pinky to not touch your skin.

You felt your cheeks heat up at the gesture, curiously glancing up at the man that was so hesistant with physical touch usually.

“Shigaraki-kun?”

He shook his head, eyes focused on your hands

“Tomura.”

You smiled, surprised but satisfied for some reason.

“Tomura,” you whispered, closing your grip around his hands.

Taglist: @crystal-lilac​

[scarlettriot]

MHA Flowers Headcanons

Just a headcanon of why these boys would bring you flowers and cute stuff that comes from it.

Warnings: None

Includes: Kaminari, Bakugo, Kirishima, Shoto, Iida and Midoriya

Kaminari

. Always spontaneous as heck!

. Literally. This man, being the bumblebee he is, would be coming home from work and be like, "Look at this pretty flower! I bet Y/N would like this!"

. And before he knows it, he has a small bouquet forming.

. He'd probably take a longer route home in search of more pretty flowers to add to the bouquet so it would look fuller when he gave it to you.

. Would present it with a smile full of pure sunshine!

. A couple minutes after sniffing the beautiful flowers he'd collected, a rash would form across the bridge of your nose and across your cheeks.

. "Aw crap!" Kaminari would quickly make sure to get you medication to help calm down the redness all while apologizing profusely.

. You still kept the flowers, just didn't sniff them so closely anymore. You'd catch Kaminari narrowing his eyes at them every time he walked by them until they withered and he happily tossed them.

Bakugo

. He's actually really good about remembering important dates in your relationship.

. There was always an internal struggle going on with this man when it came to giving you flowers and cute things like it: He wanted everyone to know he showered you with gifts but he didn't want to be caught dead shopping for them.

. So, on anniversaries and holidays, it's pretty standard for an arrangement to be delivered to your office.

. Your coworkers would exclaim about how sweet and thoughtful he was and they really would brighten up your whole day.

. He usually got home after you, sporting a little smirk of pride. You'd have to walk up to him, tell him how lovely they were because he sure as hell isn't bringing it up.

. "Tck. Yeah, whatever. Wasn't that big of a deal."

. But, he'd wind his arms around you, pulling you in close and you knew he was a softy underneath it all.

. "Had to have Kirishima help me pick between lilies and snapdragons... he told me to get both."

Kirishima

. More like Kaminari, the red-haired hero would show up with any bouquet of flowers just for the sake of seeing you smile.

. But, when you texted him telling him you'd gone home early after a particularly tough day he decided he really had to do something special this time around.

. So, he'd been standing in a flower shop, still in his hero costume, trying to ponder which one's you'd like best.

. The guy would start a group chat with all the people in 1A that might be able to help him. "Help! What's Y/N's favorite flower!?"

. After gushing about how sweet he was for trying to figure it out, it became very apparent that none of them were any help at all but they did remind him of your favorite color and he could work with that.

. He pulled them from behind his back when he got home, as nervous as the first time he'd brought you flowers. "So, which flower is your favorite?" He asked while you put them in water.

. You pulled out one of the flowers from the bunch and handed it to him.

. You'd told him how you didn't use to have one but that flower had coincidently been in every bouquet he'd given you and thus, became your favorite.

. Kiri nearly broke down from a cuteness overload.

Todoroki

. Todoroki rarely gives flowers.

. He just didn't want to resort to giving flowers in the way his father did to his mother. It felt sort of like a copout to him.

. Still, he can see the way you light up when other people get them and he really wanted that reaction out of you.

. That meant he had to get creative. Literally.

. He'd told you he was going out with Midoriya via text while you were still out on patrol and you thought absolutely nothing of it. Told him to have a fun time.

. "Why is this so difficult?" He grumbled while Midoriya picked it up so easily. He'd get it though, he was determined.

. When you arrived home, tired and longing for a shower, you were greeted by Todoroki holding out a small cluster of colorful paper flowers. "Do you like them?"

. Like them? Like? Like was an understatement! You loved them!

. He explained how he talked Midoriya into taking a class with him on how to make them and held up his hands so you could see all the bandaids from his paper cuts.

. After seeing your reaction, Todoroki got in the habit of hiding little paper flowers everywhere just to make your day.

Iida

. You told Iida how much you liked flowers on your very first date with him and ever since he's been known to go a little overboard...

. Like bouquets that were twice the size of your head.

. One time, when he was called away for work and was gone for two weeks, he sent flowers to your house every. single. day. You ran out of space to put them all!

. Still, seeing how happy he is to give them to you is more than enough reason for you to never complain.

. So, when he shows up to Friday night dinner, dropping a kiss on your cheek and whispering a soft, "I got you something." You weren't exactly surprised.

. You should have been though.

. He pulled out a small box and inside was a preserved flower. You recognized it from the first bouquet he'd ever given you.

. Iida sat across from you, adjusting his glass. "My mother had to help me get the preservation process correct but she assured me that as long as it is stored at..." He trailed off while you were still in awe of the incredibly sweet gift.

Midoriya

. Yeah, Midoriya knew your favorite flower before you even started dating. Well, he thought he did.

. He actually just jotted down things he knew his friends liked so he had a cheat sheet for gift giving.

. He was a studdering mess when you eventually corrected him.

. Ever since then though, he wouldn't just give you the actual flowers, he'd send you pictures of them. Get you artwork or a flower made out of clay for your desk.

. "I was on an assignment and saw this and I knew I had to get it for you!"

. Midoriya leads a super busy life but he always wants you to know he's thinking of you.

. He'd get big puppy dog eyes when you tell him you have the absolute perfect place for it.

A/N: Thanks for reading! I kinda want to try my hand at writing other people's prompts and ideas so if you have a request send it my way! Thank everyone!