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barelytolerabled · 1 year ago

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Healing Speed and Soul

daniel ricciardo x fem!physiologistReader

summary: The McLaren team sought the expertise of a skilled physiotherapist, you, to tend to the physical well-being of their drivers. Little did they know, you would soon become more than just a healer, evolving into a vital source of emotional support for the drivers, especially Daniel Ricciardo.

Warnings: body shaming, ed

WC: 2k944

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On your first day at McLaren, you nervously stepped into the bustling atmosphere of the team's headquarters. Team principal Zack Brown warmly welcomed you, introducing you to the dedicated mechanics, engineers, and other essential members of the McLaren family.

As you walked through the high-tech facility, you felt a mix of excitement and anticipation. The air was filled with the hum of activity.

Zack eventually led you to the heart of the team the garage. There, you found yourself face to face with the dynamic duo of McLaren, Lando Norris and Daniel Ricciardo. Lando, with his infectious enthusiasm, greeted you with a friendly smile, while Daniel, known for his trademark grin, extended a warm handshake.

"Hey there! Welcome to the team," Lando exclaimed, his energy contagious.

Daniel, with a twinkle in his eye, added, "Great to have you on board. We've heard you work wonders, hope you're ready for the challenge!"

You, feeling the warmth of their welcome, couldn't help but reciprocate the positive energy. Little did you know that beyond the world of physiotherapy, you were about to embark on a journey that would intertwine your life with the adrenaline-fueled existence of the McLaren drivers.

A few days into your tenure at McLaren, the intense rhythm of Formula One life began to settle around you. As the physiotherapist, you observed the drivers, Lando and Daniel, pushing themselves to the limits during practice sessions and briefings.

Recognizing the importance of maintaining their peak physical condition, you decided it was time for a comprehensive medical checkup. You approached Lando and Daniel with a plan to ensure their bodies were in optimal shape for the upcoming races.

"Lando, Daniel, I'd like to conduct a thorough medical checkup to ensure you're both physically prepared for the challenges ahead. It's crucial to address any potential issues before they escalate," you explained.

Lando, always eager to improve, nodded in agreement, "Sure thing, doc. Anything to stay at the top of our game!"

Daniel, with a playful grin, added, "I trust you've got the magic touch. Let's do it."

The medical examinations unfolded in the state-of-the-art McLaren facilities, with you meticulously assessing their fitness, flexibility, and overall health. As you worked, conversations flowed, revealing not only physical aspects but also providing insights into the drivers' mindset and emotional well-being.

In those moments, you realized the delicate balance between physical prowess and emotional resilience required in their life. Little did you know that your role would extend beyond the realm of physiotherapy, becoming a crucial pillar of support for Lando and Daniel as they faced the relentless challenges of the racing season.

In the quiet confines of your small office, it became evident during Daniel's medical checkup that he was neglecting his nutritional needs. You, observing the signs of under-eating, decided to address the issue directly.

"Daniel, I've noticed you might be skimping on meals. Nutrition is a crucial part of staying at your peak, especially in this demanding sport," you gently pointed out.

Daniel, usually vibrant, seemed quieter than usual. After a moment of contemplation, he simply nodded in acknowledgment.

Sighing, you grabbed your coat. "Come on, Ricciardo. We're going to fix this. I'm taking you for a proper meal, no excuses."

Leading the way, you and Daniel left the confines of the McLaren headquarters, embarking on a journey to ensure the Australian driver's well, being extended beyond the racetrack. Little did you know that this impromptu outing would mark the beginning of a unique bond, intertwining your role as a physiotherapist with a deeper connection to the personal lives of the McLaren driver.

Navigating the streets in the fading daylight, you led Daniel to your apartment. The confusion on his face was evident as he questioned, "Your place? Why are we here?"

Turning to him with a determined look, you explained, "Daniel, it's not just about making you eat; it's about making sure you eat right. I'll be cooking for you. Trust me, it's time for some proper nourishment."

Once inside your cozy apartment, you set about preparing a wholesome meal, the aroma wafting through the air. Daniel, still a bit perplexed, watched as you skillfully moved around the kitchen.

"You're really going all out. I appreciate it," Daniel admitted, a hint of gratitude in his eyes.

As you sat down to eat, you shared a smile. "Sometimes, a good meal can make all the difference, especially when the pressures of racing start taking a toll. Consider it part of my job to keep you fueled and ready for the season ahead."

As you shared the meal in your apartment, a comfortable silence enveloped you. Suddenly, breaking the quietude, you looked at Daniel and asked, "Who?"

Daniel, with a mouthful of food, raised an eyebrow, "Who what?"

Softly, you persisted, "Who made you think you shouldn't eat? There's something deeper here, Daniel. I can see it."

Caught off guard by the unexpected question, Daniel hesitated for a moment. A mix of surprise and vulnerability flickered in his eyes before he finally spoke, "Well, it's just... the constant pressure, expectations, you know? Sometimes, it feels like I don't deserve a break, even for a decent meal."

You nodded in understanding, recognizing the weight of the expectations that came with Formula One. "It's crucial to remember that taking care of yourself isn't a sign of weakness. If anything, it's a strength. You're not alone in this, Daniel. We're a team, on and off the track."

You, sensing there was more to Daniel's struggle, looked at him with a discerning gaze. "Are you sure you're telling me everything about that? Because Norris doesn't seem to have this issue."

Daniel hesitated for a few moments, glancing away before finally admitting, "Well, some people think I should be careful with food, that my weight isn't the best for racing. But yeah, little norris isn’t a problem like me for them."

A dry chuckle escaped your lips. "What a load of nonsense. Your performance on the track speaks for itself. You don't need to conform to anyone's unrealistic standards. It's about being healthy and fit, not fitting into someone else's idea of what a racer should look like."

Clearing the plates from the table, you took a decisive stance. "From now on, I'll bring you lunch, Daniel."

Daniel, trying to be polite, protested, "No, no, you don't have to do that, really."

You turned to him with a determined look, "Daniel, my role is to take care of you. Of course, I'm doing it, and you have no choice."

Concern crept into Daniel's expression, "But Zack makes me follow a strict regime. He can't know."

A disbelieving shake of the head, you retorted, "Zack agreed to this nonsense? Well, then it'll be our secret. Meet me in my office at lunch tomorrow. We'll eat together."

As the weeks passed, you continued your routine of preparing and bringing lunches for Daniel, meeting him in your office during race weekends. The aroma of home-cooked meals became a familiar presence, and whispers of camaraderie between you and Daniel began to circulate.

People couldn't help but notice the positive changes in Daniel, he seemed healthier, more energized, and perhaps even a bit happier. The bond that had formed between you and him extended beyond professional duties, creating a ripple effect in the team dynamics.

Colleagues started to see the genuine care and support you provided, not just in terms of physical well-being but also as a source of emotional strength for Daniel.

In the bustling atmosphere of the McLaren team lunch area, Daniel found himself with no choice but to join his teammates while eating the lunch you had prepared for him. Sitting across from Lando Norris, one of the team members jokingly teased, "Didn't know you knew how to cook, Daniel."

Daniel, taking a bite, replied honestly, "I'm not the one making it."

The teasing took an unexpected turn when the team member quipped, "What, you got a wife at home or something making you these?"

Daniel chuckled dryly, playing along, "Something like that, actually, yeah."

The laughter subsided when Lando, with a curious expression, raised an eyebrow, "And you think I could ask your 'wife' for one too? I've got a appointment with her this afternoon, pain in my back you know."

Daniel's eyes widened, a mix of surprise and realization dawning on him. "How do you know who's making me those lunchboxes?"

Lando leaned in, a knowing smile on his face. "She has the exact same lunchbox, mate. But don't worry, your and your "wifey" secret is safe with me. I'm aware of how tough the team can be on you."

Arriving home late, you were taken aback to find Daniel in your apartment, busy preparing dinner. "Daniel, what are you doing?" you asked, a mix of surprise and gratitude.

He gently helped you off with your shoes and coat, replying with a smile, "You've been doing so much for me, so I wanted to return the favor. Not promising a meal as good as yours, though." He chuckled and guided you to the dining table, ensuring you were comfortably seated.

"Daniel, it's actually my job to take care of you," you reminded him.

He sighed, placing your plates on the table, and took a seat in front of you. "And as your friend, it's my job too. Let's forget work, mmh?"

You smiled at him, grateful for the unexpected gesture. "Thank you, Daniel. This means a lot."

Mid-dinner, Daniel suddenly got up, exclaiming, "I almost forgot." He returned to the table with two glasses and a bottle of wine.

"Daniel, we work tomorrow," you reminded him.

He playfully interrupted, "Ah ah ah, what did I say? We forget work tonight, okay?"

You sighed, smiling, "Anything you want, Daniel."

With that, you clicked your glasses. The shared laughter and genuine connection over dinner marked a brief escape from the intense world you navigated together.

Relaxing on the couch after dinner, you and Daniel found yourselves immersed in easy conversation about anything and everything. As the night unfolded, Daniel slyly mentioned, "You know, I may have indirectly told the guys it was my 'wife' who prepared my lunchbox."

You raised an eyebrow with a playful grin. "Oh, is that so, Daniel? Well, get ready. I'll start leaving lovey notes on those lunchboxes of yours. Always dreamt of being a good wife to my husband."

They both burst into laughter, the shared humor lightening the atmosphere. In that moment, amidst the jokes and banter, you and Daniel found solace in each other's company.

Days later, on a day when you couldn't eat with Daniel, you slipped a small note into his lunchbox. It read: "Fuel for the race, but don't forget to savor the moments off the track too. You've got this! - Your wifey."

When Daniel opened his lunchbox and discovered the note, a wide grin spread across his face. During the team's lunch break, Lando noticed Daniel's amused expression and couldn't resist asking, "What's got you all smiles, mate?"

Daniel, holding up the note, chuckled, "Looks like I've got a secret admirer, leaving lovey notes in my lunchbox."

Lando leaned in, feigning surprise. "Oh, a secret admirer, huh? Got any idea who it might be?"

Daniel playfully rolled his eyes, "Come on, Lando, you know exactly who it is. She's making sure I eat well and stay in high spirits."

Lando, joining in the light-hearted banter, teased, "Well, aren't you lucky to have your 'wife' looking out for you? I hope she leaves some notes for me too."

Daniel, with a smirk, responded to Lando's teasing, "Keep dreaming, mate. It's my 'wife' making them laugh." The banter continued, and laughter echoed through the lunch area.

However, as Daniel glanced at your note and the warmth it brought, a subtle longing lingered. A part of him wished the playful joke about a secret admirer and a lunch-making 'wife' could transcend the realm of humor. Little did he realize that within the confines of the jokes, a deeper connection was slowly taking root, sparking emotions that stretched beyond the boundaries of mere camaraderie.

The 'wifey' joke continued to weave itself into the fabric of Daniel and your dynamic. Whenever Daniel passed by your office, he'd playfully inquire, "How's wifey doing?" Lando, ever the instigator, joined in, making insinuations that left the two of them chuckling.

Before crucial races, their banter took a unique turn. Daniel, often discussing strategy with Lando, would hear remarks like, "If I win, your wife better make me that famous lunchbox for me too." The playful commentary even spilled into interviews, with Lando winking at Daniel when asked about their favorite meals.

In one interview, when the interviewer queried about the drivers' preferred dishes, Lando slyly responded, "Well, it depends on who's making it, right, mate?" He wiggled his brows at Daniel, leaving the audience in stitches.

During a casual night in with your friends at your place, you packed two lunchboxes of the same meal you had prepared. Observing your actions, one friend raised an eyebrow, teasing, "Two? Planning to feed a small army or something?"

You chuckled shyly, "It's just for one of my patients."

Another friend, noticing the little notes signed 'wifey,' couldn't resist poking fun. "And those little notes signed 'wifey' are also for your patient?"

Laughing, you playfully scolded, "Hey! Put that down!" The room erupted in laughter, the friends enjoying the playful banter. Your lunchbox antics had become a source of amusement not just within the Mclaren garage but also among your close circle of friends.

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Searching for Daniel in the garage, you found him with Lando. "Wifey," they both cooed simultaneously, earning a punch in the shoulder from Daniel to Lando. "Not you," Daniel clarified, prompting laughter.

"Be gentle, Daniel," you teased, handing him his lunchbox with a little note as usual. "Need to be taking care of an engineer during lunch, sorry." You side-hugged Daniel before turning to Lando, "Pole position, right, little Norris?"

"Yes, ma'am," Lando replied with a smirk.

You chuckled and handed him a lunchbox, saying, "Well earned. Keep going like that, Lando. I'm proud of you." Lando happily hugged you, expressing his gratitude. He then turned to Daniel with a mischievous grin, "Guess I also got a wife now, loser."

"Hell no, you don't, little mosquito," you laughed, playfully shutting down Lando's claim. With a quick exchange, you got back to work, leaving the two drivers with smiles on their faces.

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The usual lunch hour arrived, but Daniel didn't show up at your office. Growing worried, you decided to search for him in the garage. Passing by Zack's office, you overheard Zack's cold reprimand, focusing on Daniel's weight.

Unable to bear it, you entered the office with determination. "It's my fault," Daniel began, looking at you with concern. "No, no, it's not her fault," he continued, addressing Zack, "You're right, Zack. I haven't been careful recently, and I'll change that."

You, however, halted Daniel with a stern gaze. "No, you won't."

Turning to Zack, you asserted, "Zack, as Daniel's physiologist, I took the liberty to ensure he's properly nourished because apparently he hasn't been before my arrival here. His well-being is my responsibility, and I won't let him compromise that for any unrealistic standards."

Zack's anger flared as he confronted you, "You knew about his strict regime, and you went against my orders!"

"Yeah, I did! I did, and if I had to, I'll do it again," you asserted, standing your ground.

Zack, visibly angered, sat up. "You know what you'll do? Pack your things, you're fired."

Daniel, attempting to mediate, approached Zack, "Zack, it's not her fault. She didn't mean to—"

Stopping Daniel with a raised hand, you interjected, "Stop, Daniel. I don't want to work for someone like him anymore anyway."

With those words, you turned away and headed to your office to pack your things. The air in the room hung heavy with tension, marking the end of your tenure at McLaren.

While you were packing, your focus interrupted by the sound of the door, you instinctively responded, "My office is closed, sorry."

"It's me," Daniel's voice cut through, and you turned around to see him standing there.

"Oh," you uttered, and without a word, Daniel opened his arms. You hurriedly approached, burying your head in his chest. "I'm so sorry wifey," he whispered.

"It's not your fault, Daniel," you mumbled into his embrace, finding solace in the midst of the tumultuous situation.

“What am I supposed to do without you at the garage now?" Daniel thought out loud, his worry palpable.

You chuckled sadly, "You could always still come to mine for lunch."

He couldn't believe it. Pushing you away a bit, Daniel questioned, "You just lost your job because of me, but you continue. Who are you?"

"Honestly? Just a girl who grew too close to her patient," you admitted.

Raising an eyebrow in confusion, Daniel looked at you with wide eyes as if connecting the dots. "You're too important for me to let people treat you like shit, especially when it's putting your health in danger," you explained.

His eyes widened, and it seemed like realization struck him. "Do you mean that—"

"Yeah, I love you, Daniel," you confessed.

For a moment, silence hung in the air, and doubt crept into your mind. Yet, before you could dwell on it, Daniel stopped your doubts. "Then it's good you got fired, else I couldn't have been able to do this."

He grabbed your face and kissed you. "Would your dreams be fulfilled with me as your husband?"

#f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 #f1 x reader #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo #daniel riccardo imagine #daniel riccardo x reader #lando norris #mclaren

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yawnderu · 2 years ago

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K-9 — Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader | Chapter III

Sick as a dog, and just as vicious.

1 2 3 4 5

You work magic with your hands

The human body is able to withstand extreme damage.

"Medic!" Price's voice boomed across base, heavy footsteps following right after. The door slammed open before you could even get up, Gaz and Simon carrying a bloodied Soap. They set him down on the medical bed and you got up, rushing to them and examining the damage.

It's incredible, really, how the human body can withstand extreme conditions and stay resilient, such as a gunshot that had blood leaking out of Johnny's head like a faucet.

"Out. With me, Simon." You bark out orders and the men obey, Price patting your shoulder twice, the look in his eyes saying much more than words. Fix him.

"Apply pressure on the wound." Simon nods his head, quickly discarding his skull gloves as his bare hands apply pressure on Johnny's chest to limit the blood loss. You felt a weak pulse earlier, yet the sound of the EKG machine as soon as you hook him up served as reassurance. You immediately put on your gloves, not bothering to hook him up to an IV to avoid wasting time. His heartbeat is weak, but he's still here.

Your hands get to work immediately as Simon begins to treat the wound on Johnny's chest, a much simpler injury than the bullet in his head. You bring the light closer to his head, able to make out the familiar glint of the bullet encrusted in his brain.

Twelve hours. That's how long it took to complete surgery on Johnny to remove the bullet in his head and stabilize him. He's a lucky motherfucker; the base of his brain and spinal cord being completely untouched, allowing him to be part of the 10% of people who have survived a headshot.

Your knees give out right after you make sure Johnny is all covered up, exhaustion and stress along with the disappearing adrenaline finally catching up to you. Strong arms wrap around your torso to prevent you from falling— Simon, who refused to leave your office, staying awake those twelve hours in case his help was needed.

"With you, lass." He reminds you, helping you stand up and guiding you to your chair, crouching down to get a better look at you.

"Need a cuppa?" He asked gently, the back of his hand making contact with your forehead to check for your temperature.

"Fucking brits..." You grumble, tired eyes looking down at him, the way his gaze softens and the corners of his mouth tilt up into a small smile, a deep laugh escaping out of his lips for a second.

"Some coffee?" You nod your head, hands going under your glasses to gently rub your eyes as you struggle to stay awake. He gets up, hand on your shoulder squeezing softly to make you look up at him.

"I'll go tell that lot Johnny made it, think you can stay awake until they're here?" His words had hints of teasing despite the concern in his eyes, only turning away once you nodded your head. You got up from the chair, walking over to the medical bed and looking at Johnny's unconscious body. His heart beat was stable, at the very least.

"I miss you, Johnny." Your hand reaches out to hold his, squeezing softly before you bring it to your lips and plant a soft kiss on his knuckles, slowly putting his hand back on his stomach. As annoying as he can be, he feels like a younger brother, someone you'd lay down your own life for with no hesitation, though that secretly goes for the rest of the team.

You take a step back when you hear footsteps approaching, pretending to fix the new IV injected to him.

"Doc." Price greets, walking over to you and looking down at Johhny. Bruised and bloody, but alive.

"Knew I made the right choice with you." His heavy hand pats your shoulder, managing to offer you a smile despite all the stress he was in, not knowing whether or not one of his boys was going to make it.

"I'm honored, Captain." He could hear the appreciation under the layer of sarcasm.

"I don't know when he's going to wake up, but there wasn't any damage on the frontal lobe or top of the brain, so probably not gonna have brain damage either... not that it'd make much of a difference." You drift off, eyebrows furrowing slightly as you think back on the twelve hours that just passed, the deep chuckle escaping the captain turning your attention back to him.

"Good. Go rest, Gaz and I will take turns watching over him." You simply nod, turning away to leave and patting his arm gently as you walk past. A small smirk sets on your lips when you feel the muscle, quickly leaving the office and going to your quarters. You barely manage to remove the bloodstained white coat before you collapse in bed, any thoughts about what happened and the coffee Simon was making for you completely forgotten as you finally drift off to sleep.

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trulyradicalactivist · 5 months ago

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Now that many of you are on the same page with me about the fight for radqueer liberation and freedom from oppression, it’s time for us to channel our strengths into meaningful action. To make a difference, we must educate, invigorate, and advocate. These three pillars, I've found, are the foundation of effective activism. In my time of being an activist, these are the things I use the most to gather community. For all of you, I'm gonna take this time to break them down and explore how all of us can contribute. If everyone really is with me on this, we can turn the tide faster than ever before.

Everything is under the cut. I tried to change my writing style a little from last time (a lot of people thought it was AI generated, so I studied some other speeches to try and write more "human", I hope it worked.)

Educate.

Are you good at making posters? Writing essays, articles, or conducting research? Do you enjoy learning and sharing what you discover? Maybe you’re great at debates. If so, education can be where you shine. Education is essential for dismantling stereotypes and misinformation about our community.

There are many ways to educate, some small, and some more direct. Firstly, start conversations with fellow community members. Run polls, collect data, and organize your findings. Then you can store that information, maybe in a folder, a Google Doc, or even in your notes app. Use it to write essays explaining specific topics or write articles debunking misinformation. Share your work with the world, not just our community, but to those who believe the stereotypes you are writing against.

Now, if education isn’t your strength, make sure you amplify the work of others. Share accurate information, send educational resources to those who might be misinformed, and help shift perceptions. Knowledge is one of the most powerful tools we have, let’s all wield it wisely and responsibly.

Invigorate.

Do you love drawing, writing fanfiction, or making memes? Maybe you enjoy putting together jewelry, like Kandi bracelets, making people laugh, or inspiring people through any form of creativity? If so, you can invigorate the community.

Let’s bring life and joy to the radqueer community. Yes, we face a lot of challenges, and that is exhausting, but we can and should create spaces full of excitement and connection. You could start a cooking blog and help your community learn a skill they might need, open an Etsy store to sell stickers or patches, you could design stim toys if you really know how to! Do anything that fosters creativity and belonging. Build spaces for us, by us, and let's make our movement one with vibrancy and culture!

Advocate.

Advocacy is something everyone can do. It’s about amplifying voices, yours and ours as a community. Share your experiences, whether it’s through writing, social media, or art. Speak openly about how your identity shapes your life.

Advocacy is also about challenging stigma. If you have dysphoria, talk about it. If you don’t, explain your identity and what it means to you. Are you a paraphile? Share your journey with pride, if you feel comfortable, and help others understand how your identity connects to your identity as a whole. Advocacy is about being unapologetically visible. Make them see you. You exist and they have no say in that.

These three actions (educating, invigorating, and advocating) are the building blocks of rebellion. And that’s exactly what we’re doing: rebelling against oppression and ignorance.

Let’s take charge together. Let’s fight for the acceptance and freedom we deserve. We are strong, we are resilient, and we are capable of creating change. I believe in all of you, and I love you all. Let’s do this, together, here and now.

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staycalmandhugaclone · 6 months ago

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Fool's Errand Pt 9

Part (9) of Fool's Errand, the next arc of Doc's Misadventures! If you're new, start at the beginning with Touch Starved!

Warnings: Tension. Some big emotions. Mild cursing. Also some legit fluff

WC: 3,257

It’s easy to believe that children are resilient, that once physical wounds heal, we might pretend no further damage remains. The horrors they can adapt to, the things they can survive, it’s just as incredible as it is heartbreaking. But there’s a very big difference between surviving and thriving, and that youth that offers such ‘resilience,’ in truth, merely masks scars far deeper than we’d like to admit.

Sometimes those scars are loud; evident in bursts of rage far more violent than normal tantrums. Something they are quiet. Sometimes those scars hide until the child is grown; until they can’t be dismissed beneath the cover of youth despite never having learned how to cope with the terrors veiled in shadows only they can see, and if those around them plead ignorance to the cause of those terrors, they leave wounds that may never heal.

“Look at that! You must be a Jedi!” I exclaimed with wonder at the unblemished skin of legs once covered with tiny scrapes and burns. The girl shook her head so quickly that her hair, now hanging loose to her shoulders in puffy curls, bounced against cheeks bunched into a wide grin.

“Yup, she definitely has some kind of secret healing power.” Echo chimed, and she shook her head even more emphatically, shoulders shaking with nearly silent giggles.

Crosshair was out on patrol with Wrecker providing what cover he could from the ramp of the Marauder, his leg still preventing him from moving much. Tech still hadn’t stirred since his brief moment of near-lucidity, and Hunter snored softly from the co-pilot’s seat where, not five minutes prior, he’d denied the obvious exhaustion Echo and I had silently agreed against commenting on.

I’d spent another twenty minutes coating his battered form with bacta, fingers carefully guiding the blue gel across dark bruises and skin split beneath cruel strikes. It had felt… intimate… the way I kneeled between his legs to tend his wounds, dimmed lights soft enough to hide my blush from anyone but him as we both carefully avoided the other’s gaze, and I couldn’t help but remember the quiet moment just before coming out of hyperspace above that feral planet where I’d so nearly died to the locals' poisonous arrows. It felt like so long ago… but the way he’d held me, arm locking around my waist in a silent plea to stay as he'd laid nearly bare atop my bed, skin still glistening with oils and body blissfully limp in the aftermath of my touch… The memory of it still sent my heart racing.

He’d declined my offer to help him into a fresh set of blacks, and I tried not to argue as he bit back a wince from how the act of dragging the sleek fabric down his powerful form tortured already abused flesh, instead turning my attention absently toward Tech if only to grant myself a moment's reprieve from the heaviness lingering on air rife with shame and want and denial. There was no place for those feelings here. Not anymore.

“I bet she haS other hidden powers, too.” I continued, heart alight at the beaming smile on her innocent face.

“Yeah? Think she’s hiding a lightsaber somewhere?” Echo asked suspiciously, making the girl’s eyes dart to him with an excitement poorly veiled beneath mock nervousness.

“Only one way to find out.” I replied, bringing my hands up as of I were about to snatch her. A squeal burst from her lips as she leapt from the chair and took off down the small room, gangly limbs flailing with that precious, youthful clumsiness as she raced to climb the first few rungs of the ladder before I wrapped my arms around her waist and pulled her against me with a victorious laugh. My entire body warmed at the look on Echo’s face as I turned back to him, giggling child locked to my chest. There was no trace of tension or dread or regret in eyes so often weighted beneath far too much guilt. Instead, his lips just hinted at a soft smile, stance loose where he’d lazily risen from his seat.

“Well?” he pressed, making a show of crossing his arms over his chest. I let my hands dance over ticklish skin under the guise of patting the girl down while carrying her.

“I'm afraid she's too clever for me.” I lamented. “Wherever she's stashed it, I fear we’ll never find it.” He let out a quiet chuckle as the girl paused her thrashing just long enough to stick her tongue out at him, his hands reaching up to fondly ruffle her hair.

“Alright, little jetii, let's get out of here before your giggles wake that guy up.” He nodded back toward Hunter, even breaths still enunciated with the faintest rumble. She nodded and readily leapt down from my arms before darting back to the ladder, not waiting for us to join her as she scrambled up the worn metal once more.

“You'd think she hadn’t just been held prisoner in a kriffing black site…” Echo murmured, that earlier warmth lost beneath a deep worry.

“It’s easier to pretend to be happy than it is to let yourself be scared.” I whispered back.

“Those feelings aren't going to just go away.” I looked back at him with a quiet understanding, wondering how desperately he’d tried to ignore his own fears, how violently they still haunted him.

“No,” I agreed softly, “they don't… but she'll have her entire life to deal with what happened. And, hopefully, she'll be surrounded with people who love her to help her through it.” He glanced toward me, eyes resting on mine for a long, silent moment before something clattered loudly overhead followed by a hissed curse.

“Crosshair's back.” I couldn't quite hide the humor in my voice as we both started toward sound.

“They've got the planet on lockdown.” Echo reported. “Which means the Senator is still here, but it also means it's going to be a lot harder for us to get out."

“It also means they'll have him hidden somewhere even more heavily guarded than the last place.” Came the grumbled reply.

Crosshair and Wrecker stood close to the arc as they spoke in hushed voices while the girl kneeled atop Hunter’s cot with Lula dancing between her small hands, some foreign tune humming softly through pursed lips.

I wanted to help. Maker, how I wanted to pluck the correct answer from the ether that we might hurry and focus on our own escape from this tortured world… but this: plotting and strategizing, accounting for all known factors and preparing for inevitable surprises… this was beyond me.

“I anticipate his position will be made known shortly.” Tech stated from behind me. My attention instantly snapped toward him.

“Tech! You shouldn't be up yet!” I scolded, already snatching my datapad with a mumbled, “The hell… None of my alerts went off…”

“I disabled them.” He answered nonchalantly, and offered no hint of chagrin at the glare I shot him. “I’d already reviewed my vitals. There were no signs of abnormalities, thus no reason to delay my return.”

“Tech…” I sighed, making no attempt to hide my frustration even as his brothers smirked at us.

“I am…” his voice quieted, and I couldn’t help but mirror that quiet as I looked at him, as I noted the odd stiffness in his jaw beneath eyes narrowed in an attempt to gather his thoughts, “impressed that you were able to repair the damage to my arm. I anticipated waking to find it gone… Thank you.” My own jaw tensed briefly at the knowledge of just how close he'd come to exactly that, and I gave a small nod.

“Then we would'a had to get you somethin’ like what Echo's got!” Wrecker chuckled as he said it, but his voice was still oddly subdued.

“While I admit to a certain degree of curiosity toward being able to connect directly to a network relay, I think I'd prefer to keep my natural appendages.” Tech replied dryly, but then he glanced toward Echo with a subtle, contrite frown.

“Yeah. Me too.” Echo grumbled, but offered his brother a small smirk before turning the conversation back toward the mission.

I let out a short breath before finally allowing myself to wander away from the conversation, attention turning back toward the girl, who's earlier glee had finally begun to dwindle. Lips draw into a gentle smile, I sat softly atop Hunter's bed with her.

“Not much fun all by yourself, huh?” I kept my voice quiet, and my heart broke at the way her lips bunched, jaw grinding as she let her hands drop heavily to the now wrinkled bedding. For just a moment, she released the toy, arms raising as her fingers began to move with some half-hearted intent before catching herself and going still once more, but that was enough. I recognized that halted gesture.

“You know,” I whispered, as though I was about to share a secret, “when things are really scary, and we have to be really quiet, we use our hands to talk to each other.” Her eyes flashed up to mine though she kept her head tucked to her chest, reserved interest poorly stifled beneath a dejected frown.

“Watch.” I murmured before turning back to the others. Cross met my eyes and paused at the beseeching expression on my face. I smiled gratefully as I waved a quick question.

Number of nearby hostile? His brows pulled together, confused, but he hesitated only a moment before replying.

All clear.

My attention darted back to the girl at the sound of her sharp gasp. With Lula tucked beneath her arm, she jumped from the bed and raced across the room to the others, and I couldn't help but chuckle at how quickly I'd been forgotten.

It was Tech she ran to, though her gaze kept darting between the others as well, and I cringed slightly as how forcefully she threw herself into his side. He froze mid-word, attention instantly dropping to the girl. She seemed to struggle with keeping herself pressed tightly against him while still freeing her hands enough to sign something, and he automatically lowered himself to a knee to better address her.

“Yes, I can understand you.” He said it so thoughtlessly, as though it were almost silly to assume otherwise, but the way that girl’s face lit up left me tightening my jaw to keep my breath steady. Her hands became a blur of movement, but he didn't hesitate in responding.

“Standard soldiers have a very limited and specialized set of signals for instances when verbal communication could prove dangerous, but I am quite well versed in the more standardized sign language you appear to be using.” He answered. I understood only a few snips of the flurry of signs that followed. Scared. Home. Dad. Help. Mean. Tech, however, nodded knowingly.

“I assure you, from what you've said, your father's kidnapping was in no way a consequence of your actions, and my squad and I will do whatever is needed to free him as well.” The motion for “punch" was unmistakable, and even Tech let out a small huff of laughter.

“While I appreciate your enthusiasm, I do not believe it would be wise for you to accompany us… No, droids would be more likely to use you as a hostage than they would be to show you any leniency due to your being “small,” thus eliminating any strategic advantage having an additional person keeping watch might grant.” Crosshair rolled his eyes at Tech's reply, and I couldn’t help but chuckle softly.

There was something wonderfully familiar about this; the hum of their voices weaving into a gentle chorus I’d heard a thousand times yet would never bore of. I don’t know when I shifted atop Hunter’s bed to let my back rest against the sidewall, when my head gradually fell toward my shoulder as the day’s exhaustion finally made itself known once more, but I didn’t doubt that it was their voices that lulled me into a gentle sleep.

“Hey… come on, mesh’la… need to wake up.”

A grumble caught in my throat, shoulders tensing against the ache of such an unforgiving position.

“Don’t yell at me – we all tried to convince you to lay down.” The air of annoyance twisting those words was ruined beneath the smile I could hear woven through that low rasp.

“…liar.” A quiet huff of laughter was his only retort before letting his hand whisper over my shin, fingers tightening for barely a breath before the touch was gone.

“Hunter’s waiting to go over the plan.” He continued. I begrudgingly forced my eyes open just in time to watch him take a small step back, arms already adorned in armor folding across his chest, fond smirk still playing with thin lips. “Not that it’s much of a ‘plan’.” He added with that familiar façade of disdain.

“That’s our specialty.” I replied, words taut as I curled my arms over my head, back arching in a vain attempt to stretch out the lingering stiffness before pushing myself toward the edge of the narrow cot. He merely hummed in response, the quiet sound infused with every ounce of resignation he felt toward that fact, and I let myself laugh softly at the small scowl it drew to his face.

Hunter's gaze flicked only briefly toward me as we arrived in the cabin. The ramp was still open, inviting the midnight air to bring a pleasant chill into the normally stuffy room. We were on the very outskirts of the forest, where the treeline ended so abruptly, the prairie that followed looked oddly intentional. Wisps of light occasionally danced between the distant strands of tall grass, tiny bursts of yellows and gold gleaming brilliantly for mere moments before fading back into a gentle darkness.

I wondered if Tech had already spoken on the seemingly magic chemical reaction granting the tiny insects that burst of luminescence. I wondered if he and Hunter had needed to corral the small girl to keep her from racing off to see them up close, and I wondered if Crosshair could still see smoke from the havoc wrought upon that wretched base, if the trees still smoldered and the air still burned with the scent of ozone from electrical fires. Probably not. By now, the site had likely already been cleared and returned to an unnatural illusion of feral wilderness, a realization that left my skin crawling with the knowledge of what nightmares that artificial wilderness had concealed.

“Echo and Tech were able to pinpoint the ship they evacuated the Senator on and traced it to a transfer station three klicks outside the city.” Hunter started, hip cocking as he glanced over the screen of his datapad.

“Given their obvious failure to conceal that fact, they’re clearly attempting to use the Senator to lure us in a trap.” Tech added.

“And we’re going to take advantage of that.” Hunter continued, and I had to pointedly keep myself from sighing at his haughty smirk. “Echo, Wrecker: you two are heading straight for the transport. Rig as much of their docks up with explosives as you can. Cross – I want you on the north end to start: take out the power transformer, then find a place to whole up near the Marauder. Provide cover fire where you can, but be ready to bring the Marauder in for a pickup as soon as the Senator is secured.” Tech’s fingers tapped impatiently at his thigh as Hunter spoke, and took the first opportunity he could to cut in.

“That transformer is only a decoy. The real one is hidden underground.” He explained quickly. “There’s likely to be a brief interruption of power intended solely to sell the deception before the real generator kicks back in.”

“That’ll give Tech and I an opportunity to grab one of their smaller ships as a distraction while they go on the defen-”

“Wait.” I said firmly, brows furrowing as I met Hunter’s confused gaze. He went perfectly still, clearly shocked to be interrupted. “You can’t go running around a Separatist base, right now, Hunter. It’s bad enough the others are going, but you’re barely standing.” He didn’t answer for a moment, as though expecting that heavy silence to be enough for me to back down, but my gaze didn’t falter.

“I’ll be fine, Doc. If everything goes according to plan, we should be in and out in-”

“No.” I said, voice granting no room for argument, and a flare of frustration darkened eyes still swollen with heavy bruising as he turned his full attention to me. “You want me to list off all the reasons you should still be in bed? The broken ribs, internal bleeding that’s only barely patched, probably a mild concussion at best; all of which could be exasperated with even light activity.”

“Your concerns are noted, but these are extenuating circumstances, and we don’t have the luxury of being overly cautious.” My own frustration turned nearly violent at his dismissive retort, shoulders drawing back as I glared up at him, pointedly ignoring the way Crosshair was fighting back a smirk.

“You can complain all you want about me being overly cautious from the damn cockpit of the Marauder.” I retorted, nearly snarling at him.

“This isn’t up for discussion, Doc. I’m not-”

“You’re right: this isn’t a discussion.” I interrupted sharply. “As squad medic, I have the final say on this. Not you.” Crosshair looped his arms over his chest, hip cocking slightly with an amusement he no longer tried to hide while the others stood frozen, stances rigid as they watched in tense silence as Hunter stared me down. I could see the enraged sense of betrayal stealing over him, heard it in the heaviness of his carefully controlled breaths, and I hated the guilt that coiled through my chest. But I didn’t back down. The risk was too great.

“I’m pulling rank, Hunter.” I stated, voice painfully even, the faintest hint of an apology quieting the almost whispered words. “I’ll go with Wrecker – I’ve picked up enough of his tips here and there to help set the charges, and Echo can help Tech nab a decoy ship.” That silence grew almost debilitating, and I felt the way my heart raced beneath the weight of this moment. Hunter’s reaction meant more than just this mission. If he refused, if he ignored my orders now… that would illustrate more than just a lack of respect for me as a medic. It would call into question my very place on this squad and my ability to be their medic…

Right hand curling into a tight fist, Hunter’s lips just hinted at a scowl before those infuriated eyes finally turned away from me, shoulders drawn taut as he stormed around us and vanished into the fore of the ship without a word. I didn’t watch him go, though his brothers showed no such restraint, staring in shock as their Sargeant disappeared down the stairs to the cockpit.

It was Echo that finally broke the silence.

“Wrecker, make sure Doc has what she needs to help you set the charges.” Wrecker’s attention shifted to the arc with a fresh note of surprise before coming back to himself.

“Yeah… right…” He muttered, hesitating for just a moment more before glancing toward me and then starting toward the supply room.

Next Chapter

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havenesc · 3 months ago

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hello HELLO!! I am OBSESSED over your rancher AU,, you have such a big brain!! If youre in the mood to yap about it, i am sooo interested in hearing more!!

WOAH HI!!! thank you so so much, that means quite a bit!! I love this AU and it has been quite a joy to work on when I'm stuck in my office job or away from my own horses so :') Always happy to indulge and yap and this........ is a very long yap LOL.

I am writing a frankly ridiculously long fic about it, but this whole shit really started with ""i like jason and i like horses and i keep listening to lord huron's way out there on repeat." so here we are. rotting it out. <3 <3

I think physically removing Jason from Gotham, or from any major metropolitan area containing capes, is a really interesting idea. He lives and breathes and is born from this city. (Where's that one post calling it his wire mother?) Jason is so deeply interconnected in the machinations of the city and how she operates that by removing him, by forcing him into a situation where he cannot go back for the time being and instead has to live among people he perceives as "regular," he gets to breathe outside of the walls that Gotham and Bruce have defined for him. He gets to explore who he could be, really, beneath the masks and the death and the failed legacy of a kid who just wanted to be magic, who isn't living with his mental/emotional triggers sitting on his bedside table like a loaded gun. For once, even under a fake name, Jason Todd gets to be something other than a tombstone or the face of a tightly-run crime syndicate. Jason doesn't even bring that dying shit up all the time, but everyone else seems to hold it against him. (Probably due to rationalizing all the murder.)

He's like a shelter dog following the 3 Rules of Decompression. This guy gets a horse and gets some friends who don't really know what to make of him at first but he's a hard worker and a fast learner and he wants to work as a team, no matter how prickly and weird he is at first.

Additionally, I think it's also fun to explore what his absence does to Gotham, and how the city would react to not having an enforcer. The Batman and his brood exists, obviously, but there is an ecosystem that Red Hood understands intricately in a way that the Batman cannot and will not. He has the uniqueness of being one of the only Robins to both live poor as fuck and also experience it from Bruce's perspective -- the only other one really being Stephanie -- and he knows how to weaponize this for max efficiency. Red Hood is the wolf introduced to keep the deer population down. How does the crime scene change, how do the Bats have to navigate adapting to that radical change? When it breaks that the Red Hood is out of business, who takes charge? And at what point do you look at yourself in the mirror, say, "Yeah I fucked this one up, bring that guy back?" And what the hell do you do when you find out you can't?

Anyways! I love thinking about how vital Jason is to the Gotham Social Fauna. I also love thinking about how his blue roan gelding, Blue, is a descendant of Doc Bar. I love thinking about the plates in McLaren's tibia because he got nailed by a bull in the exact perfect spot for the damn bone to split in half. I love thinking about Jason experiencing nature, and Glacier Park, and for once in his life feeling so small and insignificant in the world that his problems actually feel the distance they are from him. I love thinking about him finding the connections with people who have always been receptive to him in some way, even when he's a bristling scared snarling dog, because even if Jason Peter Todd is convinced that he is unlovable and irredeemable, nobody else knows that shit. So you might as well put your foot in the stirrup and come along because we need you and your resilience and your strength and your laughter and your good-heartedness to get through another twelve hours in the saddle together.

Also, these two songs in order on my fucking jason rancher au playlist are very jason and dick coded and listening to them makes me want to lay on the floor and stare at my ceiling for about three hours. Actually this whole thing is a love letter to lord huron.

#jason rancher au #i love. just. vomiting words and hoping they make sense LOLLLL #tysm for the ask!!#i don't know if you were looking for silly tidbits but uh. i've got those in spades too dont u worry

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triptychofvoids · 1 year ago

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Fun fact (not really a medical one but you seem to like funky stuff like this), Czech people are slightly resilient to radiation thanks to the metric fuck-ton of uranium that happens to be under Czechia at all times, hence why Czechia recovered much better from the Chernobyl disaster than other eu countries - Czech people are just used to it

im hesitant to believe this until i am provided with sources that back you up. however. very cool and interesting if true B]

#congrats on the slight radiation resistance if true #however radiation poisoning is still radiation poisonings even if youre resilient ^^!!#replies from the void #the doc is in

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dayshifting · 3 months ago

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THE DOC IS IN — GREY’S ANATOMY DR.

DR. ROSARIO always knew she wanted to help others. with a lawyer mother and a mother who created authors, it was imbedded into her blood to help those who needed it. she first desired to be a lawyer after a “bring your kid to work” day with her mama, fascinated with the ins-and-outs of the law world. it was her dream until her early teen years, until she came to the realization… she did not want to be a lawyer. she didn’t care for a courtroom, didn’t care for spending years of schooling for a career she wasn’t passionate for.

WHEN SHE was younger, she would get sick often, which often meant spending nights at the hospital. after a surgery that changed her life, her eyes gleamed when she found her true calling. she changed her entire future in a flash, striving towards becoming a surgeon. she kept up her exceptional grades, graduated top of her class, and it all paid off when she was accepted into vanderbilt university for biomedical studies at just 16 years old. vanderbilt was her home for the next 8 years, where she studied more than she ate so she could have her residency at a top hospital in the nation.

AFTER scoring high on the USMLE and completing sub-internships, she was accepted into her top choice — seattle grace hospital. soon after becoming an intern, she would find her people and fit in with the best of the best… all while looking impossibly flawless and gorgeous. they don’t call her doctor barbie & dolly for no reason.

DR. BARBIE (n.) — a nickname bestowed by doctors and interns alike; more than just a nod to an effortlessly polished appearance, it’s a playful yet respectful acknowledgment of confidence, precision, and skill in the operating room. a dr. barbie is as sharp as they are stylish—grace under pressure with a scalpel in hand and not a hair out of place.

— ORIGIN : ❝ has anyone seen rosario? … lemme guess: fixing her hair in the bathroom, trying to look like doctor barbie. ❞

DOLLY (n.) — a term of endearment created by dr. bailey; a name given to someone with a striking combination of southern charm, confidence, and warmth wrapped up in bouncy hair and sparkling grins. often used to describe a person who is effortlessly put-together, with a signature style and a strong sense of self. implies both beauty and resilience: soft but tough, sweet but sharp.

— ORIGIN : the infamous and iconic dolly parton.

DAY’S LOVE LETTER — !

the way this reality has been cooking in my brain since LAST YEAR and just never did anything abt it 😭 then, i randomly got a greys reawakening and couldn’t stop thinking about it, so here we are! also, i haven’t been posting much because i’m in a slump and i’ve had no inspiration for anything. but ill try my best!! anywho, can’t wait to script this dr and experience the early season aesthetic of greys.. and date mcstemy <33

have i watched the entire show? ..no. have i gotten past season 2? also no!

#day’s greys anatomy dr ☤#shiftblr #shifting #reality shifting #desired reality #shifting antis dni #shifting blog #shifting community #shifting motivation #shifters #shifting aesthetic #shiftingrealities #shifting diary #shifting consciousness

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taddymason · 3 months ago

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Ok so i need to consult a much bigger jay fan ab this because yes. So I came to u.

How do you think Jays memory loss (and shattering but I think his memory loss might be more relevant. Might) is gonna tie to his larger character arc. Because from I seen doc has said that there IS a reason as to why they chose Jay to lose his memories out of all the ninja to give him quality character development and I’m wondering how him not remembering his previous life will specifically connect to his character and how they’ll use this aspect to better build on it.

What u been thinking is that maybe it ties to him relearning his loyalty to his family as a whole, relearning or reinforcing his values. Like, even if he forgot everything he’s still gonna have the spirit he has and the sense to protect those he allies himself with. I say allies because if he DOESNT get his memories back, he might just see the ninja as that at the beggining, before eventually getting the trust again, uk what I mean? But honesty I’m rlly not sure and I haven’t analyze jays character as much as other ppl like u so I wanna know what u think cuz im like, a little lost tbh

ty for ask!! I love talking about this so:

First of all, I think that out of all the ninjas to lose their memories, Jay was an obvious choice. Not only because they wanted to subvert Jaya's tragedy with Nya being the one in the grieving process this time, but because Jay's character needed SOMETHING, a long arc that would polish and redefine who he is, in a literal sense.

Zane and Nya are out of the question because they've already done this arc with them (s11 and s15), Cole has essentially completed his character development, Lloyd is obviously not an option, and with Kai it really wouldn't be that impactful. This is a chance to reinvent Jay's character after so many seasons of him being just the comic relief who lost a lot of the aspects that made him an interesting character. It was a good oportunity to give him more development considering this will probably be about a reformation, redemption, and self-discovery arc (I mean, considering they don't rewind it all in one episode, which I doubt.)

Whether the buildup has been good or not is another question, but yes, there is a lot more you can do with Jay and all the building up of his identity tied to his past that hasn't been done with the rest and I think that was the reason they did it.

There's also a good reason they chose the Administration for him to end up there, and that's because according to Doc it's based on Kafka's "The Trial": a meaningless world where nothing matters and the protagonist is essentially lost in a labyrinth. The worst place for Jay to end up, because his most important themes have always been about family and if you take that away, well; he's completely alone and has nothing to hold on to.

So I want to believe that Jay's arc will be about discovering who he is, what his powers mean, what his role is on the team if he ever wants to come back, what his reason for fighting for is, what his greatest strengths are as a person (loyalty, resilience, his wit, which is why I hope we get Inventor Jay back). We haven't seen much of him as a character so far, but I WANT to believe that in s3 we will see these traits. That even without memory, Jay is still himself, only he has changed because of all the things that have happened to him since the Merge.

I don't want to confuse my hopes with what's most likely to happen, but if I had to guess, between getting Jay's memory back and saving his soul, I think the ninjas will go with the second option first. Assuming both things don't happen at the same time. Considering having his soul shattered is way worse and makes him vulnerable to rox, etc, I really don't think they'll get his memory back first before healing his soul.

In any case, I really think if jay is going to get his memories back it'll be after starting over with the others because I really feel like they're going to go the route of having him have to relearn a lot of things from scratch, with the ninjas having to deal with all these new changes and the possibility that: Jay may never get his memory back... But that should not stop them from starting over from scratch and for him to be loyal to them again as before.

With Jay always being the most morally questionable of the team, I'd say there's a chance we might see him learn to put others' needs before his own, in the same way I think Nya's arc will be to be more selfish than always choosing her duty but thats off topic.

#I've been thinking about this for a long time #Also we've never had anything Evil Jay unlike the others so that's another reason too #This is just theorizing btw I want to believe that there are more reasons than just Jaya angst #ninjago dragons rising #jay ninjago #jay walker #Ask

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zeroseuniverse · 5 months ago

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Trouble

Word Count:1.5K Summary: Her lips twitched into a smirk. “You think I’m the hero type?” Jungkook snorted from his post. “Hero? No. Trouble? Definitely.” “Again with the trouble,” She shot back, her grin widening despite herself. “I’m starting to think you like having me around.” Pairing: Jimin X Reader X Taehyung X Jungkook

Disclaimer: Please be aware that this is apart of the from the ashes series. This series will have aspects of violence, weapons, angst, blood, injuries, killing, and will heavily focus on oppression and segregation of mutants, Look after your mental state if any of these make you uncomfortable please.

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The clinic was chaotic, as always. Taehyung’s voice cut through the tense air, issuing sharp instructions to the assistants scrambling to keep up. Jimin moved like a ghost between patients, his touch soothing pain and panic with a quiet intensity. Jungkook was perched on the edge of a battered supply cabinet, his sleeves rolled up and his sharp eyes scanning the room for threats or opportunities to step in.

Then came the clamor from the entrance—shouts, hurried footsteps, and the unmistakable sound of a body hitting the floor. Jungkook leapt to his feet, Taehyung and Jimin freezing mid-task.

“Another one,” Jungkook muttered, already moving. “They better not bleed all over the floor again.”

The three of them reached the makeshift triage area just as a figure slumped against the cracked wall. Her ragged breath filled the room as she tried—and failed—to push herself upright. Blood streaked her side, soaking through a torn jacket.

“Move,” Taehyung barked, already assessing her injuries.

But instead of groans of pain or pleas for help, they were greeted with an unmistakable cheek.

“Well, isn’t this a welcoming party,” She said, flashing a wobbly grin. “Didn’t know I’d be getting the royal treatment.”

Jungkook snorted, arms crossed as he leaned against the wall. “You’ve got a real mouth on you for someone who can’t stand.”

“Try it, sweetheart,” she shot back, her voice dripping with humor. “I’ll still out-talk you from the ground.”

Jimin knelt beside her, his touch careful as he began stabilizing her wound. “She’s cheeky,” he murmured, more to himself than anyone else.

“She’s bleeding all over my clinic,” Taehyung snapped, though his hands were already moving with precision.

Despite the pain etched into her face, She winked at Jimin. “I could get used to you.”

Jimin blinked, flustered, while Jungkook and Taehyung exchanged looks.

“She’s trouble,” Jungkook said flatly.

“No kidding,” Taehyung muttered, though his hands never faltered.

As they worked, her charm never faltered either, her humor weaving through every quip, even as she winced under their care. But beneath the surface, they all recognized it—a resilience that burned bright, unyielding despite the cruel world that had battered her.

And for reasons they couldn’t quite place, none of them wanted to extinguish that fire.

Jimin’s touch was steady as he cleaned the blood from her side, his hands radiating a soothing warmth that momentarily dulled the pain. Her bravado faltered for the first time, a sharp intake of breath escaping her lips. Jimin looked up, his expression gentle but probing.

“You don’t have to keep up the act, you know,” he said softly. “It’s okay to just... breathe.”

She blinked, her grin faltering before she huffed out a laugh. “What can I say? Old habits die hard.”

Taehyung’s sharp voice cut through the moment. “And those habits are going to get you killed one day.”

She turned her head toward him, arching a brow. “Haven’t yet, doc. Guess that means I’m doing something right.”

“You’re doing something stupid,” Taehyung countered, wrapping a bandage around her side with practiced efficiency. “You’re lucky you didn’t bleed out before you got here.”

“Lucky or stubborn,” She quipped, her lips twitching into a smirk. “Probably both.”

Jungkook leaned against the wall, his arms crossed as he watched the exchange. “Stubborn, for sure. You’re the kind who’d crawl in here with both legs missing just to make a point.”

She winked at him. “Only if it meant I’d get to see that charming face of yours.”

Jungkook’s stoic mask cracked for a fraction of a second, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. “Flattery won’t get you out of trouble.”

“Oh, but it’s working,” she teased, despite the wince that accompanied Taehyung’s final tug on the bandage.

“She’s stabilized,” Taehyung announced, stepping back and rolling his shoulders. “But she’s not going anywhere for a while.”

Her grin widened. “Guess I’ll be your guest, then. Hope you’ve got good room service.”

Taehyung groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Don’t make me regret patching you up.”

Jimin chuckled under his breath, adjusting her position so she could sit more comfortably. “You’re lucky we’re used to trouble around here.”

Her gaze softened as she looked at Jimin. “You’re too nice for this place, you know that?”

“And you’re too reckless for any place,” Taehyung muttered, already cleaning up the supplies.

Jungkook’s sharp eyes lingered on her for a beat longer, something unreadable flickering across his face before he straightened. “She’s not just reckless,” he said quietly. “She’s running from something.”

Her smirk faltered, and her gaze darted to Jungkook. For the first time, her charm didn’t come as easily.

“Who isn’t, in this world?” she said, her tone lighter than her eyes.

The room fell silent, the weight of her words settling over them. Jimin glanced between her and Jungkook, concern etched into his features. Taehyung’s movements slowed, his back turned as he processed the implication.

Jungkook stepped closer, crouching to meet her eyes. “You’ve got people after you, don’t you?”

She hesitated, her grin finally slipping away entirely. “Maybe,” she admitted. “But if they come here, it’s not your problem. I’ll deal with it.”

“Not anymore,” Taehyung said firmly, turning to face her. “You brought it to our doorstep. That makes it our problem.”

“And we don’t abandon our patients,” Jimin added, his voice gentle but resolute.

She stared at them, her bravado gone and replaced by something raw and vulnerable. “You don’t even know me.”

Jungkook stood, his expression unreadable. “Maybe not. But we know trouble. And for some reason, we don’t mind keeping yours around.”

For the first time in a long time, she didn’t have a response. Instead, she leaned back against the wall, letting their words sink in as the chaos of the clinic swirled around them.

The tension in the room lingered, but the trio didn’t give her much time to dwell on it. Taehyung was already issuing orders to the assistants, his voice brisk and authoritative. Jimin gently helped her shift into a more comfortable position, his hands never losing their steady gentleness. Jungkook lingered near the entrance, his sharp eyes scanning the chaotic clinic.

“Alright,” Taehyung said, wiping his hands clean on a stained rag. “You’re stable for now, but if you don’t rest, you’ll tear those stitches and undo all my work.”

She rolled her eyes, the faintest hint of her usual cheekiness returning. “I’ll be the picture of obedience, doc.”

“Somehow, I doubt that,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Jimin, keep an eye on her. Jungkook, I need you—”

“Hold up,” She interrupted, her tone laced with suspicion. “What exactly do you mean by ‘keep an eye on her’?”

Jimin chuckled softly. “Relax. I’ll just make sure you don’t try to play hero and get up too soon.”

Her lips twitched into a smirk. “You think I’m the hero type?”

Jungkook snorted from his post. “Hero? No. Trouble? Definitely.”

“Again with the trouble,” She shot back, her grin widening despite herself. “I’m starting to think you like having me around.”

“Let’s not push it,” Taehyung said dryly, though a hint of amusement flickered in his eyes. “Now, Jungkook, there’s a group coming in from Sector Seven. They’ve been delayed, and I want you to check on them.”

Jungkook hesitated, his gaze flicking to her. “You sure that’s a good idea? If she’s running from something, someone’s bound to come looking.”

“And if they do,” Taehyung said, his voice steely, “we’ll handle it. Go.”

Reluctantly, Jungkook pushed off the wall and made his way to the door. He paused just before stepping out, glancing back at her. “Don’t get too comfortable. This isn’t a free ride.”

She gave him a mock salute. “Yes, sir.”

With a shake of his head, Jungkook disappeared into the chaos outside.

Taehyung turned back to her, his expression serious. “I mean it. Rest. You won’t be any use to anyone if you push yourself too soon.”

“And if I decide to push myself anyway?” she asked, one brow arched.

“Then you’ll deal with me,” Taehyung replied, his tone leaving no room for argument.

She held his gaze for a moment before leaning back with a shrug. “Fine. But only because you asked so nicely.”

Taehyung let out a long-suffering sigh before stalking off, leaving Jimin to tend to her.

Jimin sat down on a nearby stool, his gaze soft but searching as he looked at her “You really should take it easy. Taehyung’s rough around the edges, but he knows what he’s doing.”

She studied him for a moment, her smile dimming. “You’re not used to people like me, are you?”

Jimin tilted his head, considering her words. “People who act like they don’t need help? I’ve met a few.”

“And?” she prompted.

“And most of them do,” he said simply, his voice quiet but certain. “They just don’t know how to ask.”

She looked away, her fingers idly tracing the edge of the cot she was sitting on. “Guess you’ve got me all figured out, huh?”

“Not yet,” Jimin said, a small smile playing on his lips. “But I think I’d like to.”

For once, she had no quip, no sharp comeback. Instead, she let the moment hang between them, the chaos of the clinic fading into the background.

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ya-killin-me-smalls · 1 month ago

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drop any madcom shipping thoughts you've been having. any ship. any way. multiple ships if you want. im giving you permission to ramble

oh man that's way too much power for one me

below the cut

2bmos

gotta start with my reason for breathing. Doc and Deimos have such a fun, interesting dynamic to me. I kind of wish I'd started Tear in My Heart a little further back in time instead of where I did because Doc really did consider Deimos his friend before things got complicated, and that's something I'd wanna explore eventually. the late night talks out on the balcony, the business trips Deimos would tag along on both as protection and just as company, every doctors appointment that Doc attended with Deimos to make him feel more comfortable because he knew these things stressed him out. the yearning. it wasn't love at first sight for Doc but when he did finally fall it was hard. sure, always found Deimos physically appealing, but it was the loyalty, the devotion, the resilience, the ferocity; it was watching Deimos laugh to the point of tears over something ridiculous and seeing him genuinely smile for what might've been the first time in his life. he loves Deimos as a friend, a partner, a favorite weapon, a head trophy, and a priceless possession

on Deimos's end, it's more complicated. difficult for him to put into words. Doc is master, first and foremost, regardless of the nature of their relationship. not to say that Deimos doesn't have his own opinions or blindly follows orders. he follows orders with eyes wide open knowing damn well whether it's morally correct or not, and he does it because Doc is his entire world from the moment he leaves the Agency. everyone else is either afraid of him, wants to fix him, or wants him dead, but not Doc. Doc trusts him as he is and welcomes him with open arms even when he's angry and hurting. it takes Deimos a long time to sort out his own feelings, at first only viewing Doc as another leader to follow, this one much kinder than the last. a source of comfort when he feels like he's going to break. a distraction from the rest of the world. a scapegoat for every evil he commits, because at the end of the day he's just following orders. he wants to think that Doc could love him but considers it just a fantasy until he sees Doc hurting in his absence. when it's Doc's turn to drop to his knees and weep at the sight of him, clinging to him in any way he can and telling him outright that he loves him

and all of this could've been made way easier if they weren't stupid and Doc went "hey, I like you like you and want to be more than friends" or if Deimos grew a spine and said "tell me what we are or I'm done here." but they don't do that because they suck

hankford

specifically gonna blab about my vampire/vampire hunter au because I've been meaning to do that. total canon overhaul where Sanford is a vampire hunter that's been following a trail of grisly murders for months now, tracking something more intelligent and ellusive than he ever has before. entire families slaughtered, throats torn out, bodies left completely unrecognizable

which leads to Hank, skipping from small town to small town out west where these things can be blamed on wild animal attacks, never sticking around long because they know they're being followed. they could kill Sanford pretty easily but know better than to attract the attention of other hunters, and somehow their kills getting more and more gruesome isn't shaking him off their tail. gonna save myself a little time and put screenshots from discord rambling

I swear I'm gonna write it at some point

but yeah throughout this whole ordeal Sanford is convinced he's under some sort of mind control/poison that's making him feel like this because there's just No Way he's hot and bothered for a vampire. but he is and Hank knows it

#okay that's a lot of rambling I'm gonna call it here or I'll never shut up #madness combat #madcom #hank j. wimbleton #sanford #deimos #2bdamned #2bmos #2bdei #docmos #hankford #headcanons #madness combat au #vampire au #asks

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