#fic: a healing touch

[zephyrchama]

OM! Angels seem to have similar natural abilities to demons. Even if the source of their power is different, they're still far above humans in terms of innate abilities.

Basically, MC could be frolicking in a field and playing around with Luke outdoors when he approaches with a handmade flower crown. Freshly picked. Luke himself is wearing a prototype crown of the same variety.

Luke innocently places the gift on MC's head. Within minutes the unsuspecting human breaks out in massive itchy hives. They both panic, Luke reacts by flinging the crown out towards a random part of the field and blowing on MC's head to make the hives stop. Turns out those pretty flowers are toxic to most mortal beings! Who knew!

MC can still keep the crown behind glass and admire it. Luke may feel incredibly guilty though. From then on, he refuses to give MC anything new unless it passes Solomon's safety check first.

[stuffeddeer]

pathetic stalker dazai… SEX. NOW.

hiii anon i don't really write nsfw so the exact terminology is HEAVILY danced around hope thats fine 😭

cw: poorly written pathetic dazai going crazy over the thought of you

mdni PLEASE SLASH SRS im foaming at the mouth

He was so sick, so disgusting... The thought of you coming home early, seeing his current situation and calling him a pervert and a freak just made his cheeks burn brighter, teeth clenched as he continued to inhale your scent. Normally he'd be trailing you to work at this hour, but the idea of your empty apartment was too tantalizing.

Unlocking your apartment door was easy, especially since he's done it before, and resting on the side of the bed opposite where you slept sent his mind into haywire - picturing you sleeping next to him in your thin pajama shorts and loose tank top, imagining as it rode up while you tossed and turned...

Dazai's face was now buried in your pillow, trying not to drool on the cotton casing as high pitched, pathetic whimpers escaped his lips, cold hands bringing him the sensations he'd been craving since he saw you abandon your apartment earlier this morning. He pictured your hands as they made breakfast, lips as they chugged back your caffeine of choice, all of it... even the picture of you wrestling with bed head in the early hours had him moaning softly against your sheets.

Sweat dripping down his forehead, he rolled back over to his the other side of your bed, taking a moment to steady his breathing. With a glance to the mess he just made, he sighed. Cleaning up after was never fun.

[skellymom]

hey skelly!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i was wondering if, perhaps, you could do a one shot with Hunter where 'reader' is sick???? please??? im currently very sick and its killing me :/

~ tysm, jamie <3

@fionajames my FRIENDO! I hope you feel better soon.

Here ya go! There is some lovey-dovey to this one shot, but done in a respectful manner. Angsty, implied nudity. SAFE FOR WORK! My apologies if the spelling or grammar is off. I wanted to bang this baby out quickly to get it to you!!!

Word Count: 907

Background: Reader is not feeling well. But Hunter will DEFINITELY help change that.

(Credit: Cool moving star dividers by @4ngelic-wh1spers )

"HEALING TOUCH" - Hunter x Reader Request

Kicking off the covers, you sighed from the heat.  

Heat from your fever. 

Tossing and turning, every part of the bed uncomfortable. Your joints ached as if packed with jagged glass.  

There was NO sleep for tonight. 

There was NO sleep for Hunter, either. 

He could hear as you thrashed about in bed. Feel your horribly high fever. 

It started with a general malaise...as Tech called it. Low level energy. Mild Lethargy. Your Sergeant noticed you were off. He ordered you to take a break from ration loading and lay down in your bunk on board the Marauder. 

You crashed out immediately. Thinking you would just sit, then lay down on your bunk for a MOMENT before getting undressed for bed...didn’t pan out. However, you woke up hours later UNDRESSED FOR BED clad in your rudimentary binder and underwear sleepwear. 

You SWORE you never got yourself ready for bed before hitting your bunk... 

You FINALLY awoke bathed in sweat. The room was too uncomfortably hot. You had to pee, but REALLY didn’t care to move. When your bladder threatened to overflow, you lurched to the refresher.  

Coming back from your trip left you winded and weak. 

But being worn out doesn’t promise sleep. Maybe one-minute intervals every 15 standard minutes. Jolting awake to lay in bed, then change position... 

...to lay in bed, then change position... 

...to lay in bed, then change position... 

...to lay in bed, then change position... 

Rinse, repeat 

Then your body temp dropped quickly, resulting in shivers. You burrowed into fetal position under the covers.  

“Y/N?” Your Sergeant whispers. His voice even smokier at a low register.  

His voice could still excites you...even being this sick.  

A prickle of heat makes its way up your body and over your face. You feel its tendrils envelope you, warm you up...then proceeds to shoot up to burning hot. 

“Hhmm...” Still weak as hell. 

“How you feeling?” Hunter reaches under the covers to feel your forehead and face. 

His strong callused hand tenderly slides down your forehead, then cups one side of your face, then the other. He takes his time to feel your body temperature. It’s a show of care with a side of sultry touch. 

Your body heats up to a definite fever pitch. 

“Ummm...” is ALL you can muster. EVERYTHING is SO MUCH! All of your senses being assaulted by your own body.  

Is this what it’s like for Hunter...all the time??? 

You try to mumble this statement to him. It comes out weak, incoherent...DELERIOUS. 

He’s pulled you upright in the bunk. Looking into your eyes. Oh...that man...he’s DIVINE! You think among other things that get lost in the mush of your thoughts. It’s SO HARD to think right now. 

Your perception blurs, then the room flips.  

“Y/N!!!” Is the last thing you hear... 

...waking up SHIVERING...in the cold rain? In just a binder and panties... 

As you focus your awareness slowly...while sitting on the refresher shower floor. Leaning against... 

HUNTER 

You are BOTH shivering in each other’s arms. His legs are spread out on either side of you. You were leaning on Hunter’s chest. He was drenched in the cold water and air as well...and shivering from the chill. 

Hunter was only wearing his Republic tightie-whities. They were drenched and stuck to him like a second skin...a rather translucent one. You covertly took in his “geography”. Muscular...neatly manicured body hair... 

“Y/N?” That smoky voice. 

“Hyeahhh...” You comically whispered. 

Hunter chuckled. Deep base in your ear against his firm, slightly furred chest.  

And he smelled AMAZING! It couldn’t be explained: like deep wilderness with the sunlight filtering through the trees...it’s warm fragrance...the sound of life in a place...the strength and heart of Oak trees...of safety in a green place  

Some approximation of that... 

You chuckled back “I think my fever’s broke.” in a guilty but emboldened whisper. 

“Hhm...you sure?” 

You sigh...he can feel the heat of your blush.  

He caresses your back. 

He knows how you feel about him. Could read you the moment you met. The little flirtations you sent out...that he returned... 

Could even feel the moment your fever broke, but continued to hold you to be sure, making sure your temperature never dropped too far down. 

Hunter’s been respectful. Waiting for your move. He’s doing that now, too. 

You reach up to trace your finger along his jawline, then caress the side of his face. You look up at him and hold his gaze. 

His eyes are soft but fierce. A small smile graces his lips. It’s an adoring face. 

Hunter reaches down to take your head gently in his hands. Then kisses your forehead, holding his lips to you for a moment. He takes in your scent. 

“I REALLY want to...I do. But now isn’t the best time.” Hunter senses your request. A responsible caretaker first, passionate partner later. 

He reaches up to turn off the refresher showerhead. Then proceeded to get you off the floor, dried, dressed, fed, and settled back into your bunk. 

“Get some sleep, Y/N. I’ll just be over in my...” 

You interrupt by grabbing Hunter’s hand before he can retreat. 

“Stay with me...big spoon?” 

He smiles. Then blushes. Then gives a mock stern face. 

“Of course...JUST strict bed rest. Cuddling only!” 

“Of course.” You smirk at Hunter. 

“You’re...going to make it really HARD ON me, huh?” 

“Bet your Duncan Hines Cake on it!” 

Hunter slid into the bunk and wrapped you up in him... 

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[wttcsms]

horribly short summary of what im trying to accomplish here, but if you were to read a fic featuring character, a soldier honorably discharged and is officially off the battlefield and yet he can’t seem to shake off the war from clinging to his body, and he’s basically a bit of a mess and feels incapable of returning to ordinary life and there’s you, the sweetest thing in the whole world, and he keeps trying to tell you he’s no good and you’re there to help him with everything (and it kills him a bit, to see you wasting your time to help him, and it kills him because he feels like he shouldn’t be the type of person who needs help) and !! just slowburn and falling in love and just read the tags for the vibe ok, who would it be for

[justaz]

lance who has always hidden his insecurities under grandeur and humor. a huge ego paired with an inflated sense of pride. he is someone who is confident and cocky, but he exaggerates it in response to the deep rooted belief that he is not enough, that he is ordinary at best, lackluster at worst. he grew up as the baby in a huge family which came with a lot of coddling, yes, but his achievements had been made time and time again which made them expectations rather than milestones. the first time he truly shone was when he got into the garrison, something no one in his family had done before, something to be celebrated. he worked his ass off at the garrison to be top of his class, to be a fighter pilot, to reach the stars - to be the first of his family to reach space. who could too that? no matter how long he spent studying or training, he still tested into the cargo pilot class. it wasn’t the worst but it wasn’t what he wanted. he fell short by a measly three points. it was infuriating.

lance worked his ass off even more. he wanted to be something, he wanted to be noticed, he wanted to be praised, he wanted to be celebrated. he never made it. there was one student that caught his eye though - keith kogane. a living, breathing legend. he tested at the top of their class. miles above the other students. completely untouchable. despite his reputation, his grand achievements, keith never cared. he was never in the library studying or spending his free time on the flight sims. he rarely made it to class on time. he didn’t care. yet he was the best of the best. iverson gave him a hard time but it was clear to everyone that even iverson admired him and his skill, his talent. even lance admired him. he wanted to be like him, he wanted to be him. he was rejoiced, he was celebrated, he was praised, he was admired and he didn’t even try. lance pushed harder and harder but only ended in burning himself out. he crumbled under the pressure while keith didn’t seem to notice it. lance loved him but also hated him. then he was gone. and lance was a fighter pilot. barely.

iverson, now with one less eye, loathed that. he gave lance scorn and belittlement, compared him to keith at every turn and went on and on about his failings, about how he’d never be keith, about how he didn’t deserve keith’s space in the class. lance hated iverson, lance hated keith, lance hated himself. he just had to try harder. he was more deserving of all of it than keith. he never cared, he didn’t want what he was blessed with. lance fought tooth and nail for it. he deserved it. he rose a bit in the fighter pilot class and kept fighting, iverson kept ridiculing and humiliating, keith’s name remained at the top of the boards. as the year passed, his name overtook name after name until he was below keith, three points behind. almost, almost, almost, almost…

then they were in space. kidnapped by giant, sentient, mechalions. fighting in an intergalactic war. unable to return home. the years of resentment lance held for keith came to surface in close quarters with the man and he relished in every challenge that he won and despised every challenge he lost. he worked his ass off to get better until he could rechallenge keith until he won. he wasn’t sure when their rivalry became tinged with friendship, but he didn’t hate it. he should’ve, but he didn’t. it was keith’s disregard for his own amazement that infuriated lance. he was gifted and never cared for it. he was everything lance wanted and it was like it meant nothing to him. like he would trade it all at the drop of a hat if he could. yet, keith was fun, in an odd way. awkward and funny, a little prickly around the edges but a soft, gooey marshmallow heart under it all. lance knew it. he saw keith tear up at a couple of cute babies of some species on some planet as they played.

then shiro went missing and keith was forced into the role of leader and he very clearly did not want it. again, lance felt a flicker of annoyance. the role of black paladin, the pilot of the black lion, that was something lance had wanted. not at the expense of shiro, not at the expense of anyone, but he could be leader. he could lead the paladins of voltron in the fight against the galran empire. he could be revered on every planet they freed from tyranny, his name would live on forever. no one would overshadow him. yet, now keith stood in the shadow of the black lion, his face pinched and his eyes dark. he had lost his brother twice now and was being forced into leadership, he was now the one to make all the decisions for the team of (mostly) teenagers against the empire that had terrorized the universe for over ten thousand years.

lance stomped on the flicker of annoyance and put it out as he strode forward and stood beside keith. he spoke lowly, gently. he wasn’t sure how, but the right words spilled forth. keith’s shoulders relaxed and his scowl eased to a faint frown. he stepped into his role as leader. he was still as impatient and impulsive, he was quick to anger and often blinded by it. lance was there for it all. he held keith back, became his patience and impulse control. he quelled his anger when he could and talked sense into him when keith was already fired up. in return, keith gave him trust and gave him power. to outsiders, it seemed like it always had since the birth of voltron - the black paladin, the leader, and the red paladin, the right hand. but in all actuality, it was more the black and red paladins, leaders of voltron. the final decision rested with keith, but he never made a choice without lance’s input. lance made the plans and keith approved of them. lance talked at the diplomatic meetings while keith put on a brave face and played nice for a few hours.

then shiro came back and keith stepped down. lance felt as if he had finally found his footing. lance and keith, leaders of voltron, best friends. and now keith was leaving. lance watched keith walk away as he supported hunk and his tears. lance retreated to his own room and found traces of keith in every nook and cranny. hell, the damn castle ship could be traced back to keith in lance’s mind. ever since he stepped foot in the garrison, everything was tied to keith - the school legend, top of the class, best fighter pilot in their generation, the crazy man breaking into a government facility to kidnap legend takashi shirogane, the conspiracy theorist with the odd sounds in the desert, finding the blue lion, ending up in space fighting a war, red paladin of voltron. it was all keith. yet he wasn’t here. lance loved him, but he also hated him. he wasn’t sure how many more times he’d end up feeling that same sentiment.

the team…drifted. hunk and pidge paired off while allura and shiro paired off leaving lance and coran. coran was a nice, funny, odd man that reminded lance of his father back home. coran’s crazy, kooky exterior melted away when it was just them two and lance felt the same happen with him. coran talked of altea before it all, his husband and their son. lance talked of home too, every detail he could remember from earth and his family. lance busied himself with training or helping coran around the castle. he tried with the rest of the team, but things were pretty tense and his loud, jovial nature wasn’t exactly welcome all things considered. he tried to be shiro’s second as he had been keith’s. he offered his input and his plans but they were tossed aside without a moments thought. he was belittled for sticking his nose where it didn’t belong when he tried to speak up at their meetings. he was not shiro’s second, he was keith’s piss poor replacement as he had been at the garrison. he quieted and kept to himself. he stuck to the walls with crossed arms or locked himself on the training deck for hours at a time. shiro was off, a but different but lance couldn’t put his finger on it. the way he looked at them all sometimes was eerie. his eyes were empty and void and unsettling. after being shouted at on the bridge during a meeting,

he really couldn’t keep his thoughts to himself. he thought getting it out in the open would ease the worry off his shoulders and, if it didn’t, then whoever he spoke to could laugh off his worries to properly ease his mind, help him see sense. lance told coran. coran did not laugh. he did not brush off lance’s worries. he all but confirmed them. he said how he had found shiro’s behavior odd and the shouting really sent the point home. shiro before had never yelled, not like that (bar slav but that was understandable). the rest of the team also sought lance out to share their same opinions. lance took it all in stride despite the heavy dread settling over his shoulders. in agreement, the team trailed down to the bay and sat in front of the black lion. instead of the slow, patient meditation where they would ascend into the astral plane, it felt more like they were snatched and hauled up into it. they found shiro there, the real shiro, the dead shiro. they weren’t sure who was on the ship, but it wasn’t their leader. they all remained in the astral plane as they talked over a plan.

lotor considered their line of questioning and shared the witch’s experiments while he was there and gathered that if shiro was anything, he was most likely a clone. there were other options such as shapeshifter or droid disguised as shiro but both were easily disproven as if shiro were a shapeshifter, there would’ve been moments when he tripped up and either didn’t remember something or acted too different from the shiro they knew. if shiro were a droid disguised as shiro, well…their capabilities of such a thing were lacking. the droids the galran empire had were only good for fighting and even then they were pretty lackluster. the witch had an odd fascination with life and death so the chances of shiro being one of her experiments at recreating life were incredibly high.

lance didn’t trust lotor either but he knew they needed all the aid they could get so he bit his tongue and allowed lotor to remain in close cohorts with all of them. they staged a coup and overpowered the shiro on the ship. unable to kill him, they froze him in a pod and kept him locked in the floor of the infirmary. with the loss of her spy, haggar launched an attack on voltron. tens of hundreds of galran ships warped to their position but their appearance was quickly followed by hundreds of thousands of rebel ships and military ships from those in the coalition. the blade managed to send a few ships, though at lance’s poking and prodding, kolivan relayed that keith wouldn’t be there as he hd been out of a mission for the past couple of weeks and hadn’t returned yet. heavier dread settled over lance but he had no choice then to ignore it and fight with the rest of his team against the galran attack.

with a great sense of deja vu, lance found himself locked out of the red lion. he groaned and complained to him as they didn’t have time for this but red didn’t budge. lance spoke to coran through his comms that red wouldn’t let him in and the older man appeared in the bay at frightening speed. they talked it over and red allowed coran to enter and pilot him. as coran stepped into red’s maw, black let out an ear-shattering roar. the deja vu was never ending as lance found himself rushing toward black and taking a seat at the helm. the castle ship was put on autopilot, it kept its shield up as it fired at passing galran ships whilst the rest of the team flew around in their lions taking on ship after ship. as rebel and coalition ships began to fall, the team formed voltron and took out the ships with ease.

it was odd, finally being in charge. finally being recognized. being turned to for guidance with unwavering trust. it was something he had always dreamed of, something he envied keith for, something he truly didn’t want when he finally got it. how could they look to him? how could black choose him? he was just a boy from cuba, one out of a family of seven, twelve counting his sister in law, niece and nephew, and grandma and grandpa. he was a cargo pilot who had no business being in the fighter pilot class. he became a paladin by sheer luck, luck attributed to keith kogane. even now, as black paladin, he only received that position because shiro was out of commission and keith was on a mission for the blade. the moment keith returned, the lion would return to keith and lance would go back to being his second, ignored at best, yelled at at worst. as of now, he was keith’s stand in. he just had to make it until keith returned. problems arose practically ever minute and lance tried to imagine keith and how he would respond before making a decision. he’d stand still as he took in the information, pointer finger and thumb brushing together as he thought it over, and finally respond.

he checked practically every minute of every day for a response from keith or a change in status from kolivan, but neither ever came. keith was still on a mission. he had been for weeks. lance stood on shaky legs as he led the team. he hesitated and was indecisive. he froze up when they turned to him to make a decision. he was not a leader. he wasn’t who they were looking for. they needed keith. he needed keith. lance would spend his time in the bridge, a line ringing endlessly in hopes of keith finally picking up, as he looked over the battle plans and made tweaks and adjustments as he saw fit. allura joined him once and merely watched as he worked. she chuckled to herself suddenly and mentioned how with the clone as their leader, she had forgotten what it was like with keith as their leader. she had forgotten that lance was once their strategist, that he had been part of the duo that made all the decisions for the team.

coran also joined him after allura left. he let lance ramble aloud about the plans until he ran into an issue he couldn’t resolve quite yet. he stood still as he rubbed his thumb and pointer finger together. coran smiled and exhaled sharply. he said softly how he had not seen lance “like this” in quite some time. at lance’s questioning look, coran explained how lance had been so confident and sure of himself when he led with keith. under the clone’s leadership, lance had been shaken and wasn’t sure of himself anymore. the lance of the past few months was quiet and hesitant, unsure and unsteady, whilst the lance who led with keith was confident and self-assured. he made these decisions for the team and didn’t second guess himself once. yes, he thought over his plans from every angle to ensure the team was as safe as could be, but he never doubted himself. coran supposed it was keith’s unwavering faith, loyalty, and trust in lance. keith followed lance’s decisions just as much as the team followed keith’s.

lance watched coran leave after ruffling his hair and slowly turned back to the messy draft of a battle plan. lance’s gaze shifted over to his stilled hand where he had been rubbing his thumb and pointer together since running into the issue. he had been doing the same motion since becoming black paladin. it was oddly familiar. he swore he had seen…keith do it. it was keith’s unique tick that he did when stressed or emotional and trying to compose himself. lance had stolen it. allura and coran’s words echoed in his mind as he thought back to the short period of time with keith as black paladin. lance had felt like he finally found his footing there. he felt seen and heard and appreciated as he and keith led the team together. keith’s trust in his decisions, lance’s ability to match each of keith’s weaknesses to balance the team. here lance was now, leading the team all on his own, and he felt his own weaknesses exposed to the elements at the loss of his samurai.

well, the whole time he had been thinking what would keith do. he had been leading like he still had keith. perhaps that was the problem. he was leading like half of a whole rather than black paladin. lance looked up at the trilling line on the screen of the bridge. keith was on a mission. he was not on the ship. it was lance and his team. lance reached up and ended the ringing line. he had to lead like it. lance watched lotor closely for days but still couldn’t find any issue with him. weeks passed and things sailed smoother than before. lance still froze up in meetings and hesitated before making big decisions, but he stopped looking to his side for keith’s input. just as they fell into the new normal, keith returned. he flew into the castleship with a teleporting black and blue wolf, a tall galran woman that looked suspiciously like him, and (most peculiar) an altean. as well as a growth spurt that came with bulging muscles. not that that was important. what was important was that keith finally gave lance the reason why lotor was so hard to trust.

in the hours waiting for lotor and allura to return, lance lead keith to the infirmary to see the still clone body and retold everything that had happened while he was gone. keith’s face cycled through a few emotions but he quickly forced them back behind a mask of indifference and he nodded. the two of the returned to the bridge to wait for lotor to return to confront him. allura was heartbroken and enraged at the news and had taken to fighting lotor herself. outnumbered and surrounded, lotor surrendered and allowed himself to be taken to the dungeons of the castle. it was unnerving that the castle had dungeons and lance never knew despite his wanderings over the years, but he let it go. lotor was taken into the belly of the castle in chains while keith mourned his brother once more. maybe it was the news of her people that had survived only to be farmed for experiments that gave her the idea, but allura thought of a way to bring shiro, their shiro, back.

the clone’s body was taken down to the bay where allura pressed her hands to the black lion. she began to glow and she walked toward the limp body and placed her hands to it’s chest and head. the light around her body flowed down her arms and hands and into the body on the table. after a few seconds, the body took a breath and cracked open it’s eyes. lively eyes. loving, kind, and caring eyes. shiro’s eyes. shiro was put back in the infirmary as he got used to being alive again. coran stepped back from the red lion and turned the mantle back over to lance without complaint. lance did the same with the black lion to keith. instead of it feeling bitter, lance felt more at peace. being a nobody was horrible, unbearable, but being the somebody that everyone turned to for help and guidance was not very fun either. he was content to be second in command, right hand man, three points behind keith. only, keith took back the black lion but didn’t let lance fall back into the shadows. they fell back into the same dynamic they had before, two halves of one whole, two leaders that complimented each other, that met one another’s weakness with their strengths, that balanced each other, that made a damn good team.

[skoulsons]

joel and ellie’s love language for each other being physical touch and reassurances/words of affirmation is so brainrotty for me. it hits every chord. scratches every itch in my brain. waters my plants. walks my dog. clears any and all self doubt. kisses me on the cheek. relieves me of knee pain. pays my bills.

[frozen-fountain]

Everyone tag yourself as a line from this iconic comment I just got on one of my fics, I'm "the failure is gay now".

[kavennnn]

coil ch tonight

[altschmerzes]

🌹

thank youuuuu after the encouragement to commit on this scene and others like it in the first place, a bit from The Cuddling Part in the qpr two aces fic -

Then Dani’s hand moves, settling on Jamie’s side. He leaves it there, his thumb moving in slow strokes over the ridge of bone at the bottom of Jamie’s ribcage. There are callouses on his palm that Jamie can feel, slightly rough against his skin. It’s beyond frightening but he doesn’t want it to stop. He thinks he might die if it stopped, actually, if that gentle touch was gone and he was left to lay here, cold enough to shiver without it. It doesn’t leave. It stays, pressing a little harder after a while, like the way that Jamie has relaxed and leaned back into Dani’s chest, not flinching again since that first time, has given him permission to settle in too.

[yuwuta]

hello yuwuta! i just read yuuta okkotsu's declassified jujutsu tech survival guide and i wanted to tell you that you are an incredible writer. you understand all of the characters so well and bring them to life in your aus so well. i am in awe of you. one of my favorite parts of the fic was that reader has a domain expansion, if you don't mind, expanding (heh) on that? what are the details of her technique other than healing and healing shikigami?

vibrating at intense frequencies trying to be normal about this ask bc omgeee. first of all, thank you for the sweet words, i’m so happy you enjoyed the fic 🫶 when i first started writing, i just knew i wanted reader to have rct as the kind of antithesis to all of yuuta’s cursed energy in a kinda opposites attract way, but the more i wrote the more i wanted them to be complements—so i wanted yuuta to learn rct and reader to be able to fight/take missions unlike shoko (queen) and in the end, if you couldn’t tell, i pulled inspiration from naruto… LOL 

as for domain expansion, it’s supposed to be like a twist/play on words of the phrase “sterile field” like you would have in an operating room/medical setting, but for reader it’s a literal field or meadow like situation, and instead of having various medical assistance staff and/or tools, she has her shikigami. idk if in jjk you can technically get new shikigami but in naruto you sort of can lololol. it’s supposed to be a place for (guaranteed) healing those who are severely injured with little to no interruption or infection which is kind of the opposite of a domain expansion, but then i realized it could also allow for a guaranteed critical hit, it would just be… malpractice LOL but hey if the double glove fits… so, while everything in the domain can/should be used for healing, it can also be used to harm (like i imagine the individual blades of grass can be turned into surgical blades in her hand, i think in the fic reader mentions being able to make the bees sting/cause anaphylaxis and not just use their honey for healing, things like that)

for everything reader knows how to heal/fix, she also knows about 10 ways or things that could break or kill someone, so even tho rct/medicine is mainly used defensively or for aiding others, i imagine it could be pretty damaging in the wrong (or right?) hands, and then reader was born ❤️

i also subconsciously assc yuuta w medicine for this reason... do no harm but only for those he cares about… otherwise harm will occur xoxo

[beauzos]

anyways, trying to have a coherent thought about Nahyuta here, but to me the conceivable end of his story after getting cases overturned and things fixed to the best of his ability is to stop being a prosecutor. Like I legitimately cannot fathom him enjoying being a prosecutor post-SOJ. I think you can argue he probably got a taste of what prosecution really is in the cases that occurred over SOJ, and he sees what it’s about and how to form proper arguments, but like. Ok. I understand he’s a prosecutor in the story because he has to be a rival. Because he wanted to undo the corruption of the system.

But I think he can do that as regent. Work on overturning laws, work closely with the prosecution office, so on. he can act as an example of a proper prosecutor to new prosecutors and old since he has the experience, but I just don’t see that he’d enjoy doing it. Too much trauma and too many terrible things attached to it, terrible things HE did. I imagine the guilt is overwhelming.

So, idk. I kind of picture him potentially, a few years, getting through the backlog of cases and resigning. But not giving up on being a lawyer entirely. I don’t think he could deal with it, so I like to imagine that he goes back to law school, retakes the bar, and becomes a defense attorney like Dhurke. I think he’d be happier that way, honestly.

But who knows. He might heal enough over this process to decide and stay.

[ask-ursa-tonypeter]

[fic: double blind] If there's not too many AU questions yet, the AU from one of the previous asks lives in my head rent free - the one where somehow (magic? probably magic) extremis!Tony and cured!Tony exist at the same time and the former realizes that Peter very much prefers the latter. So if it's ok, question for that extremis!Tony:

So what are you planning to do now, how will you go about "winning Peter back", so to speak? Will you do anything about the non-extremis-enhanced version of yourself? Will you still try to continue with your plans, or will this development cancel them/put them on hold? I'm so incredibly curious xD

I will… have to try to understand him. He doesn't… see the world the same way, and… if he can't accept my plans, in the end-- he has to come first. I… none of this is worth anything without him.

I need him to-- trust me, that I want the best for him, and… if he doesn't want what I'm offering, I'll have to-- give him what he does want instead. I can do that for him. Easily. Easily.

And when I've re-earned his trust we can revisit my plans, and I can make them new with his input-- it will be better that way. It will work. I can make it work.

[a-lonely-dunedain]

"Don't touch me!" From the angst/hurt/comfort prompts 👀

Hehehe I’m using Margim and Celeair for this bc I was actually planning to write this interaction in Bitter Ash and Stubborn Flowers SO! You get a sneak peek of the chapter after next! (I think? That’s probably where it’ll fit in)

also I edited the inflection on the initial prompt just bc I think it sounded more natural in the context that way

48:

“Don’t touch me.” Margim commands, grasping my hand tightly –though not enough to hurt– and pulling it away from the wound on her shoulder. Her voice was stern, and though it seemed devoid of fear or anger, I am still startled by it and do not know the words to respond.

“The last time you tried to do that you looked like you were about to drop dead afterwards,” she continues in a matter of fact tone, releasing my hand “do not waste your strength on a wound so small, save it for dire need.” she looks at me plainly, “I have survived worse with less care.”

I must reluctantly admit that she has a point. I had been trying to block out the memory of the grasping shadows I encountered the last time I tried to call upon the healing arts, but perhaps that was foolish of me. It is dangerous to open my mind here, in this land so dead and cruel, yet I still instinctively tried to do so. It feels just, so wrong, to see an injury and refuse it care– even if it is for my own safety. It feels selfish. Still, Margim told me to do so, and I cannot tend to it without her permission.

“Alright, I will not use any of my strength on it,” I concede “but you are still hurt. The wound may not be serious now, but it may become so if I simply ignore it. At least let me try to clean it, so that it will not become a dire need in the future.”

“...what future?” she mutters quietly, a question that did not seem directed at me, spoken as if she already knew the answer.

“The future outside of Mordor, in Ithilien and beyond.” I answer anyway.

Margim is quiet for a long moment, her expression unreadable. “Tell me, Celeair,” she eventually says, “was any of that real? What you told me about your homeland?”

“Of course it was. What reason did I have to lie to you?”

“None that I know of, but a madman needs no reason.”

“You think me mad?”

“A little bit.” She says flatly “I do not know what else to make of you.” I do not take offense at her words. I guess my descriptions of the outside world would sound a little mad to someone who has only known this blasted and evil land.

She pauses, a conflicted look on her face “…I hope you are not mad, though.” she quietly adds.

“Well, you have humored me this far, will you allow me to tend to that cut at least? So that you might survive long enough to see for yourself whether or not I am a madman.”

“I still think it unnecessary.” She sighs, almost sounding defeated “but… I will allow it. I have humored you this long, after all. What difference will another day make…”

“Maybe everything.” Or maybe nothing, but I will not speak of that possibility.

[lokisis]

I'll teach you to heal, and maybe you can teach me to love

[jonbinary-archive]

important q bc i was discussing this w a friend .. if u were a fictional character, what sorts of fanfiction would be written about you ? pls put in the tags im sooo curious ..

[transboykirito]

i just… i need to apologise for not updating friends with baby benefits, don’t want to miss a thing, perfectly imperfect and more than just a fling.

i was honestly just so excited to be pregnant that i wrote in advance for a lot of them, because i was so happy and excited to imagine finally getting to experience all those moments for myself, and that’s left me with a lot to edit and a lot to fill in. and now trying to do that is absolutely destroying me, which i know is stupid of me. i’m sorry.

i’m going to force myself to update at least one of them tomorrow, i’m going to pull an all-nighter to finish writing and editing tonight.

this is honestly the worst grief and loss i’ve ever experienced. i literally cannot begin to describe it. i know i write a lot to process things, but i don’t think this heartbreak will ever become something beautiful. i think this is the kind of heartbreak that just sits and lingers.

i’m sorry for not updating the fics you guys want to see. i have absolutely no good excuse for it. i’m going to go finish the next update of… something.