#medical issues so I think he's out the rest of the year. Someone on first shift is also out the rest of the year with health issues

[abrushwithdeath]

((I'm gonna try to be around a little bit today, so let me know if you want me to send memes your way!!!

This goes for people I'm already writing with AND anyone I haven't had a chance to write with yet, by the way <3))

[scribbledghost]

I know you headcanon ghost with ear loss issues but I also think after so many years of sacrificing his well being for the military I definitely think he has fibromyalgia. As a spoonie myself I think the dealing with constant pain that you really have no control with is a big reason as to why someone retires. Idk I just like to project my issues onto my fave characters but idk what do you think Scribs

I think it's definitely a realistic possibility! Like you said, if we're talking abt Neighbor!Ghost, then I go with the unilateral hearing loss, but fibro could be just as likely. It's another scenario of him keeping it under wraps until he couldn't any more, which would then force his discharge once the higher-ups find out what's going on. Maybe he sleeps through one drill too many due to the fatigue, or he starts requesting OTC painkillers at a high enough frequency to alert Price or the medics that something other than typical aches and pains is going on.

He's definitely got the joint pain and muscle stiffness going for him, and their severity depends on what he's been doing and what the weather's like. He doesn't get much restful sleep, since he keeps waking up through the night. On the worse days, he may even ask for your help to do certain things around the house, because the pain just drains him too much. He's a proud man, but once he lets you in emotionally, even Simon isn't too proud to ask you to go grab his mail because the idea of walking to the curb is more daunting than his last deployment.

I think the control aspect is the worst for Simon, at least at first. The idea that he'll likely be in some form of pain for the rest of his life and that he could do everything right and still have those bad days/weeks gets to him. It'll take time for him to adjust, and a good support system (probably in the form of 141 and his cute neighbor *nudge nudge*) will be crucial for him.

[the-hopeless-haze]

Let’s Spend the Night Together

Chapter 3 of If You Want It, You Can Bleed on Me

Greg House x Reader

Word count: 6.5k ??? what did I do

NSFW - smut

“Where does she live?” Greg asks James.

“If I tell you, am I assisting you in a crime?” James asks in response, barely looking up from his desk.

“I’m sure she told you about our date later.”

James huffs in frustration, finally looking up at him. “You’re insufferable.”

“Did you like her? Is that it?” Greg questions, trying to get to the bottom of his friend’s snarky behavior. Not that this wasn’t the usual from him. It was one of the things Greg loved about him, that he was always a little fed up with him, always preemptively aggravated, always in a state of annoyance. It was harder to piss someone off that was always a little pissed with him at baseline.

“Is that what you think? Because if that’s the reason you’re taking her out… you’re more fucked than I thought.”

“The correct answer would have been, ‘no, Greg, I do not want to sleep with her because I am married’ but we’ll go with that.”

James sighs, looking up at him. “Yes. She’s very attractive. But no, I had no intention of entertaining her.”

“Then what’s your issue?”

“Because I don’t know why you’re doing this. You sick of your prostitutes?”

Greg scoffs. “This isn’t about sex.”

“It’s not? I’m mistaken then, because you were flirting with her, made comments about her body, called her to your office…”

“Okay,” he corrects. “It’s not just about sex.”

“Are you trying to tell me you want to date her without saying the words? Because if so… congratulations.”

“No. I want to figure her out.”

“Just look in her chart. Save both of you the trouble.”

“It’s no fun if I learn all the answers at once.”

“Do you ever wonder why you’re single?” James asks.

“Do you ever wonder why you’re unhappily married?” Greg counters. “And. About that. Either her psychiatry training gave her some leg-up here or you tipped her off. She went through her files already. All that she left was a med list.”

“You already looked?” James asks, incredulous.

“Yeah. No birth control. Wonder what that’s about? Propranolol. Maybe some blood pressure issue… she’s young for that and that’s not first line. Idiopathic tachycardia? Maybe. Anxiety?”

“She can’t have an interesting med list. Stop looking for zebras. She’s barely thirty.”

“No birth control and barely thirty? Either she’s not getting any or she’s tied her tubes already.”

“Or… if she does have a blood pressure issue she can’t be on it. Or she has an IUD. Actually… don’t drag me into this.”

“Lamotrigine. Seizures. Bipolar disorder. What’s more likely?”

“lamotrigine isn’t the first-line med for either. Maybe you’ll have to talk to her.”

Greg rolls his eyes. “No fun. Hey… she’s on Vicodin.”

“A match made in hell,” Wilson grumbles, running his hands over his face.

“Well. She was. Eight years ago.”

“Most people don’t stay on it indefinitely.”

“Why would she leave that on there? It’s just these three meds.”

“Don’t you have an actual patient?”

He shrugs. “I need her address. I’m picking her up in three hours.”

“At least buy her dinner. Do not just bring her to your apartment.”

“I can’t learn anything if I just have sex with her. I mean, I’ll definitely learn some things, but…”

“Well, I don’t have her address.”

“You’ve got to have her address. You hired her.”

“Nope. I’m not her direct supervisor since she’s a consult. You’d have to talk to the head of psychiatry or Cuddy. And no. I’m not losing my job searching for it.”

“She took it out of her medical records,” he says, shaking his head, but he’s smiling. “I guess she likes to play.”

——————

“So let me get this straight. You want me to risk the safety of one of my employees so you can drive by her apartment?”

Greg looks at Cuddy for a moment, as if he’s  actually thinking about her summary of his request and he nods. “Yeah. That sounds about right.”

Sighing, she says, “I shouldn’t be shocked you live the rest of your life like you practice medicine, but I don’t care about the results here. The answer is no, House.”

“It’ll be worth your while.”

“Yeah? Why?”

“Because… if I get laid I’m in a better mood which means I’m less likely to cause you issues.”

“Right. Hm. Surprising, but that didn’t persuade me.”

“Have you met her?”

“Is that supposed to convince me?” she asks, looking up at him for a second.

He shrugs. “I don’t know. She does work in psychiatry. For someone who constantly loves to tell me I have a drug problem and there’s something wrong with me I’d think you’d want to make sure this relationship runs smoothly.”

She rolls her eyes at him. “I feel like you and I both know you’re not doing this for the emotional healing.”

“I won’t be doing anything if no one gives me her address,” he grumbles. He doesn’t tell her but for once he can’t believe how stupid he was that he fell for that, that he thought you might be interested.

“Hm. Well. I’m busy, House.”

He walks out without a word, heading back to his office. It’s 7:00.

Well. Alone again. Not much different than the last night or the night before that.

And he knows he could have Cameron. She’s been not so subtle in trying to get his attention, and yes, he certainly didn’t help matters by telling her she’s beautiful. Sure. But she isn’t… she’s not what he wants. He doesn’t need someone to take him on like a charity case.

You… you were fucking with him. And it’s fair, maybe he even deserves it. Maybe you got off on this, being a Walmart version of a femme-fatale, wounding men’s egos, seeing which ones would chase you and which ones would give up after a little pain.

Doesn’t really ease the sting of the ache of rejection, though. That you’d brush him off that easy, leave him without an avenue to reach you.

Sighing, he turns on the TV, trying and failing to focus on the screen, but you’d taken over his mind like a case he was on the brink of solving and just couldn’t get there.

8:15. He gets a page from your number. “YOURE LATE”. It reads.

Well. Screw that. He still had a way to reach you after all.

Possibly.

Smiling to himself, he calls down to the psych ward, asking for you. You’re not there, they say, but they’ll be happy to transfer him to your extension if you’re still in the building.

“I thought hookers took pride in their punctuality,” you say when you answer the phone.

“You’re kind of a bitch, huh?” He asks, trying not to let his chuckle be so audible in the receiver.

“You keep Wilson around. You love bitches.”

“Funny. Would’ve thought you’d been swooning, begging him to leave his wife by now.”

“I’m not so easily charmed.”

“Those big brown eyes don’t do it for you?”

“Sounds like they do it for you. Something you want to tell me, Gregory?”

“Don’t ever call me that,” he sighs.

“Not going to deny the gay allegations but you’ll draw the line at me calling you by your first name? What gives, House?”

“You can call me Greg.”

“Wow, could I? What an honor that we’re on first name basis.”

“Not many get the privilege.”

“Still haven’t denied the gay allegation.”

“Don’t really see the point. You’ll believe what you believe regardless.”

“Wow. Truly. A disaster of a man in all other regards but you’re comfortable in your sexuality? Greg is 1 for 0.”

“I have one male best friend and I’ve been single for five years. I embrace the gay jokes at this point.”

“Five years?”

“Yeah. It’s been a while for you too, huh?”

“What makes you so sure?”

“No reason,” he lies.

“Right.”

“You’re single now.”

“Moved here less than a year ago. Haven’t really had the chance to meet people.”

“Okay. What hellhole did you crawl out of to willingly move to Jersey?”

“Maybe I just like Frank Sinatra.”

“He’s dead. You didn’t come here for something. You left something and you came here to make sure whatever it was didn’t follow you.”

“Is this really the date you had in mind?” you ask.

“Nice deflection.”

“I just moved. No story there.”

“Also. Almost a year? And no one’s asked you out?”

“I can say no, you know.”

“You didn’t say no to me.”

“Maybe I should’ve.”

“Cold. Come down here. I’ll walk you out to my car.”

————-

“Ah. The bitch arrives,” he says, looking you up and down again, not hiding his checking you out. You’d changed, red blouse with a leather jacket and most likely the same black slacks you were wearing earlier. “Not quite slutty enough.”

“Could say the same for you. Where’s the assless chaps?”

“I could never pull that off,” he says. “You could, though.”

He’d changed, too, a button down with slacks for once instead of jeans... at Wilson’s nagging of course.

“Here,” he says, handing you a bouquet of flowers he thought for a second were going to wilt away at his desk.

“Flowers? don’t tell me you went all out. Maybe you’re not as much of a disaster as I thought.”

“I shouldn’t give them to you since you stood me, a cripple, up.”

“Stood you up? You didn’t come get me.”

“You never told me where to get you. Ergo… you stood me up.”

“You were supposed to figure it out.”

“Yeah. Right. Wilson didn’t know and Cuddy wouldn’t put out. And you knew I wouldn’t figure it out. That’s why you stayed here.”

“You actually asked Cuddy?”

“What? I’ve asked her for much worse.”

You shake your head, smiling. “Falling head over heels for me already, Greg?”

“Puzzles are no fun if you can’t figure out the answer.” He doesn’t say that the unsolved cases haunt him, nag him and he sees them where they’re not.

One day he knows you’ll haunt him, too. One day, when you leave, when he pushes this until it breaks.

“Mm. Try harder then,” you say.

“You gave me an unsolvable puzzle.”

“Mm. Not really. You gave it to yourself. You said you were picking me up at my place. I stayed here and gave you the easy way out.”

“You could’ve left it—“ he cuts himself off, lest he incriminate himself.

“Left it where, Greg?” you ask, bemused.

“Nowhere.”

“Right,” you laugh. “So what opiate do you pop constantly?”

“You don’t know?”

“No.”

“Funny.”

“Why would that be funny, Greg?”

“Let me sleep with you first.”

“Absolutely not,” you say, grinning at him.

“Well, I shouldn’t have thought you’d be easy if you’ve put me through hell just to take you out,” he sighs.

“Don’t think I’ll leave you completely wanting, though,” you say, reaching out to touch his face, his stubble scratching your hand pleasantly, a shiver running down your spine. You run your thumb over his bottom lip gently.

Tentatively, he reaches out for you, too, copying your movements, hand on your cheek, thumb over your lips, but then your tongue darts out to run over the pad of his thumb and he thinks he might die right there. “Dirty girl,” he chuckles, smirking.

“Mm. You’re pretty, Greg,” you say, with enough sincerity he almost believes you’re not bullshitting him.

“Pretty? That’s a first.”

“Like no one’s ever told you.”

“Maybe ten years ago.”

“Mm. It’s those eyes,” you say, stepping a little closer to him, letting your breath mingle with his, snaking your hand around the back of his neck. Your lips almost touch, once, twice, wordlessly. “You gonna kiss me or not, Greg?”

You expect him to be rougher but he’s soft, testing the waters, lips still barely touching yours until he gives in, gives you what you want, kisses you like he means it. God, it’s been too long, and you missed it, the thrill of kissing somebody new, and you can feel his anticipation, electricity from your skin to his.

“Come on,” he says, breaking away from you after a few minutes. “I said I’d take you to dinner.”

———

“So what is it? Percs?” you ask once you’ve been seated and get waters. It’s a nice place he chose, somewhere a little out of the way, mostly serving Italian fare and seafood. It’s where men who haven’t been on a date in a while would choose to bring a woman, you figure.

“Percs? You do some time on the street?” he asks.

“So what if I did?” you counter.

He shakes his head. “Not your story. I’m not buying that.”

“Fine. Used to work at an addiction treatment facility when I was a nurse. Everyone calls them percs, though. Not exactly some down low street name.”

“It’s Vicodin.”

“Nasty drug,” you say.

“Really? I think they’re yummy.”

“You would.”

“What’s your personal aversion to them? They take you on a bad date?”

“Got them prescribed after a motorcycle accident. Didn’t agree with me.”

“Hm. You driving?”

“No.”

“What’d you break?”

“My leg.”

“Which one?”

“Right femur.”

Wilson was going to have a field day. Match made in hell, alright. Wilson’s personal hell, that is.

“Femurs are hard to break.”

“When your partner is drunk and doesn’t care about anything it’s not that hard,” you say, shrugging your shoulders. “Lucky I didn’t die. I mean, not that I cared so much then.”

“Partner? What were you, 19?”

“22,” you say, silently cursing yourself for not just saying boyfriend.

“Did they not make it?”

You look at him questioningly but don’t say anything about his use of the gender neutral. You don’t want to have that conversation tonight. “No. Life support for a couple weeks until they pulled it.”

“Hm. So that wasn’t the reason you left.”

“No. There was no reason. I just needed a change of scenery.”

“Right,” he says. “Jersey isn’t usually the place people pick for a change of scenery.”

“How’d you end up here, then?”

“There was a job opening,” he answers.

“You were running away from something, too.”

“No, I was running to something. I needed a place to hire me and Cuddy was the only one insane enough to take me on at that point.”

“You’ve always been discourteous and unprofessional?”

“Those are my middle names,” he snarks.

There’s a natural break in the conversation as the waiter comes back to take orders. Greg takes notice of what you order, a baked scrod, certainly not the least expensive thing you could have ordered but not the most, either. It’s an assessment of how you value yourself, he thinks. Average. Average is boring.

Or you could just like scrod, he supposes.

“Why are you single?” he asks.

“I don’t know. Life was busy. Didn’t have time for relationships,” you say, shrugging. “Why are you?”

“Myriad of reasons.”

“Give me one.”

“My leg,” he responds indignantly.

“What happened to it?” you ask.”

“That’s a second date conversation.”

"You're in pain."

"How'd you know?" He asks sarcastically.

"Was it the cane? The Vicodin?"

'I think it was your charming personality.

Anyway. If you're going to cite your leg as a reason you're single, I'd love to know why."

"I was with someone when it happened. It's a long story."

"We've got nothing but time,” you say.

"You really won't sleep with me if I don't tell you?" House asks.

"Nope. Keep pushing me and I never will.

Tell me."

House sighs dramatically. "I had an infarction in my thigh muscle. No one knew what it was, I diagnosed it, but... so much of the muscle was dead already. I didn't want an amputation, I wanted a bypass. I didn't care about the pain. I just wanted to be able to use my leg. I asked them to put me under sedation to cope with the pain at the time... and the woman I was with decided it would be a good idea to remove the dead muscle completely."

"You made her your medical proxy?”

"Mm. Stupid decision on my part,” he says.

"Any medical background?"

"Nope."

"Then yes. Stupid decision,” you agree.

"I'm sure you've made plenty of stupid decisions. Getting on that motorcycle, for one,” he says, adding a jab at the end so to help heal his wounded ego a little.

"We all make mistakes. It's human. So... what's the reason now? You resent people who can walk without pain so you don't get close to anybody? It interferes with sex? You feel like no woman would want to deal with it long term?"

House sighs and rolls his eyes. "Do you really think it interferes with sex? Is that what you're worried about?"

"No. I'm asking if that's what you-"

"No. You see me as a potential sexual partner, correct?"

"I never said that."

"We're going with it. You ask me as if you're posing the question to me... but you're projecting."

"And you're deflecting. I asked you three questions and you didn't answer one" you point out.

"No. It doesn't interfere with sex, at least not to the point where you have to worry if I

can get you off or not. Whenever you decide to spread your legs for me... you'll see."

You feel your cheeks redden a little and cough. "I asked you two other questions."

"They weren't what you were getting at."

"Entertain me."

"No. It's not that I resent people. Am I jealous? Sometimes. I'd love to know what it's like to wake up in the morning without pain. But I'm not going to wake up every morning wanting to kill my partner because she jogs every morning and I can't."

"Is it because you've been able to accept it?

Was it an issue with your girlfriend at the time, coming to terms with it?"

"What do you think?"

"Yes."

Greg shrugs. “Not hard to put that together. I bet I could get a psychiatric nursing degree too.”

"Third question? You feel like no woman would want to deal with it?"

"Mm. Or she'd want to deal with it for the wrong reasons, take me on like I'm a charity case. That's unattractive for an abundance of reasons. You could go that way, I think, or you used to."

"You think I'm taking you on as a charity case? You pursued me.”

"You agreed. You didn't think for a second,

'well, he's a cripple, I'd better at least give him a shot'?"

"Your leg is not the reason I am here," you say firmly.

"What is it then, my deep blue eyes? This big, thick cane? My ray of sunshine personality?"

You chuckle. "It's your drive. You barely knew me, decided I was interesting and pursued me without abandon. That is attractive."

"You're not curious as to why you?"

"Little tits and ass, as Keith Richards would say?" You ask. "I'm used to being objectified. Pretty privilege is a thing. I'm sure you have noticed that yourself. If there's something deeper, enlighten me."

"Well, you are attractive, there's no doubting that. But I intend to find out why you're in the medical field, and psychiatry at that. It's like Cameron, on my team. You're gorgeous enough to have become an actress, marry a millionaire. Something happened to you to make you choose this."

"Did you take Cameron out until you figured what her deal was?"

"No. Cameron pities me. I have no interest in her that way."

"Well. Why do you assume brilliant minds reside only in unattractive faces? Why do you assume I worked my ass off to get here because of some past trauma when this could have just been a goal of mine like it could've been if I wasn't as hot as you think l am?”

"Okay. Then why did you choose psychiatry?"

"That's a second date conversation." You quip.

He smiles wryly at you. "You coaxed my issue out of me. Come on."

“I hold fast to my principles. You're weak,” you say, grinning back. “Why are you a doctor, then, hm?”

“I’m not a beautiful woman.”

“Right…” you say. “Chase is pretty. Foreman is too, you know. Either of them could’ve done something easier.”

“Chase is trying desperately to fill his father’s shoes. His father was a doctor, and well, you know how that story goes. And Foreman is an overcoming adversity case. He could’ve been a hood rat. He was on that path.”

“You know… women just started to be able to open credit cards in 1971. Maybe I don’t want to have to rely on a man to make a living.”

“No. Believe me, I get that. My point was there’s easier ways to make money. You chose the hard way,” he says. “And unpopular way. People become doctors and they fantasize about cutting people open and diagnosing infections, not getting hit and restraining children.”

“Your hypothesis is stupid. Maybe I don’t want to be an actor or model… or an infectious disease specialist,” you say. “And I think we’re all damaged. All of us. No one gets out unscathed.”

“No one just chooses psychiatry because it’s such a good time.”

“They do when it can make them ridiculous money without as many hardships as medical school. I could be using my degree to write suboxone scripts and make more than I’m making right now. I know a lot of people who went back for that.”

“Proving my point. Why are you doing things the hard way?”

“You take on the most difficult cases across the country, cases no one else can solve. You’re doing things the hard way, too. Why? Because the easy way is boring.”

Greg smiles at that. “Fair enough.”

“Yeah. Fair enough.”

—————

You don’t quite know how you got here. Or well, you do. Greg asked you to come back to his place for drinks, and you agreed, and you should’ve known better but it’s been years and you can’t really care too much when his warm body is underneath you, his tongue down your throat, his hands everywhere he can reach.

“How bad are you hurting?” you ask him, breathlessly.

“I’m fine. Don’t worry,” he whispers back, reaching a hand back to touch your chin. “What do you want to come of tonight?”

“Let’s just see where this leads us,” you say, leaning back to kiss him again.

But he stops you, gentle pressure on your jaw to prevent you from closing the space between your lips. “I need to know what you want.”

You sigh, pressing your elbow in his chest as leverage to lift yourself off him, and you sit next to his feet on the other side of the couch. “Why are you asking?”

“Because I don’t want this to head somewhere we can’t get back from. Move over,” he says, and winces, moving his legs back over to sit beside you again.

“It wasn’t sexual trauma,” you huff, aggravated. “You can say I’m damaged all you want but that doesn’t mean you have to treat me like glass.”

“I tried to take your shirt off and you pushed me away but you kept kissing me. What do you want?”

“What do you want?” You ask, glaring at him.

Truth was, you were using him, maybe just like he was using you. You hadn’t had the opportunity to make quite as bad of a decision as sleeping with the man in front of you in a long time. And as bad decisions go, he wasn’t so terrible anyway. You like him so far, you think he’s attractive. But you know Wilson is right, that he might drag you down to places you haven’t been in a long time.

Still.

It’s been a while since you’ve felt something. You want the hating yourself in the morning for giving yourself away so soon, you want the walk of shame as he drives you back to the hospital where you left your car, you want to revel in the fact that Greg will be telling people how you were in bed, bragging that he got you in between his sheets. You want the dopamine hit and the subsequent crash.

You spent so long getting healthy but you had to keep everyone at arm’s length to do it. It was probably the worst idea to try to get close to someone else who also isolated people and couldn’t even be healthy then.

Why didn’t he just want it to be easy? Just fuck you and be done with it, continue if it’s convenient and worth the effort. Easy is boring, sure, but sex isn’t boring even if it’s easy (if so, he wouldn’t be seeing hookers, would he?). And you know he wants to fuck you, but why he wants to make it difficult… it’s beyond your reach at this moment.

“I want… I don’t know,” he admits, because he doesn’t.

Prostitutes were one thing. Vulnerability there didn’t really matter. They were doing a job and they didn’t even take a second glance at his leg. As long as they were getting paid. If he wanted attention drawn to it, they’d kiss it red with their lipstick but because he tells them to leave it alone… they do.

Sleeping with somebody new… it’s so much harder. It’s so much easier with someone you know. Or someone you don’t have an obligation to know.

With an aim to please rather than take, he doesn’t know how he’d perform.

Looking at his face, reading the ambivalence there, it suddenly clicks. If Wilson knew the truth, if you really are the first woman since his injury, there’s a lot of insecurity in being seen.

And you know all about being seen.

It’s easy to come off with bravado and arrogance but when you’re actually in the situation, when you’re called to be vulnerable… it’s something else entirely.

“Do you want to have sex with me?” you ask quietly.

“Yes. God yes,” he affirms, nodding his head. “Don’t take tonight as an indication.”

“It’s okay. I understand,” you say, nodding.

“That doesn’t mean… that doesn’t mean I can’t help you get off.”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “That’s still sex.”

Scoffing, he rolls his eyes. “If you’re in high school.”

“What do you think lesbians do?”

He raises his eyebrows, chucking a little. “Are you a lesbian?”

“You wish,” you laugh. “Say you could be the one that changed me.”

“I would. Except people don’t change.”

“Yeah. They do. They change all the time,” you counter, shrugging your shoulders. “Every day, every hour, every moment… it changes you. They’re minuscule changes, changes you don’t see immediately, but you look back a decade and then it clicks.”

“Right. Maybe. But fundamentally people don’t change. The parts change, but the whole never does.”

You want to say that he has been changed, that his leg injury changed him, that he holds so steadfast to that belief that people never change so he can convince himself he was always this miserable. Sure, you get the feeling he was fucked before, but this did change him. Made him worse. Made him push people away.

You don’t say that, though. You know deep down he knows it and doesn’t want to face it.

“Do you want to have sex with me?” he asks, insecurity creeping in, and he doesn’t know why this is so difficult or why he cares at all. He could pay for what he wanted, live his hedonistic lifestyle and not have to worry if the woman in front of him wanted to fuck him or not.

You aren’t boring.

But that’s not true, anyway, that’s not why he keeps people at arms length. Routine medical cases are boring, but people aren’t. It’s why he went through all the files he could of the applicants for his team, trying to pick the combination that would interest him the most, play off each other in ways he could live vicariously through. They weren’t the most deserving, or the most academically gifted, they were the most interesting. It’s why he loves gossip, loves knowing about things that don’t concern him, always living life like it’s a spectator sport and he’s got front row seats.

It’s always the people that love to watch that hate to be seen.

“I could be convinced,” you say, in that bitchy tone he knows hes going to love to hate. You soften; though, turn to him, your hair falling a little in your face, kiss him gently on the mouth.

Greg responds in kind, deepening the kiss, his hands tangling in your hair, pulling lightly before traveling to your breasts, kneading your flesh through your shirt.

“Could you be convinced to have lesbian sex with me right now?” he asks.

You’d burst out laughing if you also weren’t so admittedly and ashamedly turned on right now. “Yeah. Sure. Think you’d have an easier time in bed though.”

“You treat me like all your girls?” he asks, a glint in his eye, and oh, there’s the being seen. You’re not a fan, either. You’re surprised he’s not being forthright about what he no doubt is putting together, but ultimately you’re thankful.

“A slut’s a slut,” you quip as he leans back in, his mouth barely touching yours and he chuckles against your skin.

“You really are a bitch.”

“Mm,” you agree, closing the distance between you again, pulling him to stand up with you, letting him lean on you as he puts weight on it again.

“I’m sorry,” he says quickly, without thinking, never one to apologize for his actions but never one to let his disability affect others, either.

“It’s okay, Greg,” you whisper. “I got you.”

“No, I’ll go get—“

You stop him, holding his jaw gently in your hand. “It’s okay.”

Empathy. Not sympathy.

You had been here, in a way. Femur fractures take a good six months to heal. You walked half a year in his shoes on the same medication he was on.

Now it all clicks, what James had done, keeping you two apart to bring you together, doing something by not doing anything, letting it all happen by chance. He had been patient enough to let time do most of the work, something Greg could never do, but something that ultimately worked in his favor.

It’s okay. We all need someone we can lean on. If you want it, you can lean on me.

You still lived a life without pain.

Greg hates it, hates it all, and if you had had just the slightest twinge of force, the slightest indication that you were saying it was okay just to say something he would’ve told you to get out. He hates the way it kills intimacy, makes him older, more decrepit, makes him dependent, in a way. There’s certain things he can never do, or that he’d need help to do, and it’s something a woman would leave him for.

It’s something a woman did leave him for.

He wants to hug you, but that would feel too much, too intimate, too soon, so he kisses you again instead, and then the two of you hobble on to his bedroom. It hurts. God, it hurts, aches like it always does, maybe more so—the last pill he took was at dinner, but you make it, helping him ease onto the bed and wasting no time, knowing he was insecure, wasting no time to prove you still wanted him, mouth on his, your legs straddling his good thigh, moving on to his neck, laving your tongue over his skin, biting gently, unbuttoning the top buttons of his shirt.

“Hey,” Greg says, stopping your hand’s ministrations.

“I’m only taking your shirt off,” you assure him. “I won’t go further than that.”

“Fine. Not much to see there, either,” he mutters.

“I like tits,” you blurt without thinking. Jesus Christ. You have to stop doing that.

“Yeah,” he says, chuckling. “Sure you do. Good thing mine are bigger than Cuddy’s.”

“They absolutely are not.”

“You familiar with their size?”

You stop yourself just in time before you say “I wish.”

He lets you finish, helping you take his shirt off, take his undershirt off, shivering as you kiss down the length of his torso to the top of his pants. “I’ll show you mine,” you say, unbuttoning your pants and slipping them off, throwing them on the floor haphazardly. You move over so he can see the scar down the side of your leg, deep gash where they cut you open, you were a month away from a nursing license and you were in the OR, someone’s patient before you could ever be on the side you studied for.

You were lucky, they kept saying. You didn’t feel lucky at all.

Tentatively, his hand comes to touch your skin and you nod, silent agreement that he could touch. He’s gentle even though he doesn’t need to be, touching carefully, tracing the line of the scar up and down, hard keloid under his skin.

“This isn’t what you don’t want me to see,” Greg says.

“Hm?”

“Your upper body. That’s why you didn’t want me to take your shirt off.”

Oh. Yeah. That.

“I don’t care,” you lie.

“Yes, you do,” he counters immediately, looking at you knowingly. “Why are you lying?”

You sigh, pulling him back to you, kissing him hard, hoping he’ll shut up if you don’t give him the chance to speak. “Just touch me already.”

It would be so much easier if he just fucked you, fucked you over, fucked you up all within the course of a month. You get the feeling right now, as your tongue is down his throat and you’re letting out moans against his lips you try to suppress as his fingers enter you, stretch you out, reach angles you couldn’t reach by yourself, you get the feeling this is going to be for the long haul. Not that he’s necessarily going to be down on one knee, but that he’s going to drag out hurting you like he’s dragging his fingers against your walls, drawing you closer and closer to the edge but never quite bringing you there.

“You okay?” you ask him, breathless, head hazy, you just want him, want him closer than this, want him deep in you.

“Shh,” Greg whispers, almost a little irritated. “I’m busy right now.”

You can’t really focus on coming up with a retort because he starts rubbing your clit and as you tilt your head back into the pillows, he starts biting at the flesh he can now easily access, starting gentle but then applying more pressure with his teeth, smirking as you whimper.

Sweat trickles down your back and you wish this was different, but he’s naked from the waist up and you’re unclothed from the waist down, and it’s stupid, you know it’s dumb, that you’re letting this man fuck you with his fingers before you let him see you fully naked. It’s not like no one has before. It’s just a conversation you don’t want to have again.

Still. All this is making you a little too hot to be half-clothed.

Greg wonders why he let you in at all. Why he went through the trouble, bought you dinner, why he’s trying to get you off right now. Maybe it’s to fuck with James. Sure, it was originally, but now he feels like it was James who fucked with him, set him up, used predictable behaviors to create a predictable outcome. Still. If you’d been professional with him instead of giving him crassness right back, he would’ve decided to make your life a living hell instead of getting you in between his sheets. Either way, he was going to make someone miserable.

Himself, first and foremost.

Not that he can really be miserable right now. It’s not terrible being needed in this sense, he’s remembering.

You weren’t like Stacy, though, not here. You’re louder, not in a patronizing way where you exaggerate your moans to try and stroke a man’s ego, but it’s like you genuinely can’t hold yourself back. It’s hot. It’s unreserved. It’s… passionate in a way Stacy just wasn’t. She loved him, he knows that, but when things got hard and he got mean instead of fighting back she got cold and walked away.

Not that he can glean exactly how you’d be in an argument from how you act in bed, but he has a feeling you don’t let go of things easily.

And… well. Takes one to know one.

Who would give in, though?

His relationship with Stacy worked before his leg because Stacy would accommodate, she would compromise herself for him. It’s why his friendship with James works now. Sure. Both of them gave him some pushback — it’s not like they in good conscience could let him get away with all the things he wanted to do. And eventually he pushed Stacy until she broke.

You, though? You don’t seem like you shatter easily. If anything you seem like you’d harden like a scar, healing over stronger, uglier, thicker, nothing really hurting you because you’d just put more walls up. You’d fight him to the bitter end.

And you know, maybe he wants that. Someone he’s not afraid to push too far because he knows you’ll push right back the second he gets even an inch.

All he really knows is your vague med list, that you got into a motorcycle accident almost a decade ago, and that you chose to be a psychiatric provider among all other things you could have been. And yet… he feels like he can glean much more.

All he really knows in this moment is that you’re coming apart under his fingers, gripping his forearm with your hands as he drags out your orgasm, trying to get him away from your now overstimulated cunt.

“She comes in colors everywhere,” he mutters, smirking lazily at you, dragging his fingers out of you, finally, then brings them to his mouth, sucking slowly on each one.

You scoff at his comment, but just as quickly he sees the light turn green again and you straddle his left thigh, coming to kiss his mouth, hard, bare cunt against his slacks and he can’t help it, he’s thinking about you wrecking them, thinking about your wet pussy on what could’ve been his bare thigh… and he groans despite himself, in pain, yes, but also pleasure - and he’s pulling you closer by the collar of your shirt, and he begins to remember why men put themselves through what could very well be the potential torture of dating a woman.

It’s just so much better when it’s with someone you know. Or… someone you need to know everything about, need to memorize like they’re an extension of yourself.

You’re not soulmates. It’s not love. It’s not romance, like James would decree.

You won’t fix him. He sure as hell won’t fix you.

But you’ll do something to each other, alright.

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

Hello, it me :D

Idk how you want to structure this or how it's gonna sound when I try to type out what's in my brain rn, I do know that I want this to be a full hc tho

Ok. So. I've seen some art here & there of some of the M6 with their own children; mostly just babies but there are a couple older kids in the mix as well. This is where things in my head get weird so bear with me:

I'm thinking this ask could go three ways (I also don't know if Nadia & Portia will be able to fit in to this ask but it is what it is), and you can do just one of the options or all of them, I'll let you choose:

A. M6 reacting to MC telling them they're pregnant

B. M6 & MC mid-pregnancy preparing for the baby

Or C. M6 getting to hold their kid for the first time

Hopefully this makes sense I think it provides an opportunity for incredible wholesomeness whatever you decide :)

The Arcana HCs: M6 during MC's pregnancy

~ ohoho, now this, this is the kind of prompt that makes my heart sing! @themushroomgoesyeet I hope you're ready because I'm doing all three of those suggestions in here, just you wait >:3 - brainrot ~

Other baby-related hcs: M6 when someone hands them a baby

The M6 when the child they have with you is an exact carbon copy of them

-- for the purpose of these headcanons and because I write for a gender-neutral reader, MC is pregnant with a baby that is equal parts their and their LI's DNA. This could have happened the traditional way (depending on how you envision your MC or if you headcanon your LI as trans), or simply by magical means. For my fellow trans men, seahorse dads are still dads! And to my fellow AO3 readers, mpreg is possible. Always. O.O --

Julian

For the first time in his life, he was well and truly speechless

And delighted. In fact, his speechlessness was because of the unforeseen tidal wave of joy that crashed over him as soon as you told him and it knocked all the air out of his lungs

Pulling you into an embrace as soon as he can move again and trembling with excitement: "Really? You're going to have my baby? We're going to be parents? I'm going to be a father? Haha!"

If he was bad about hovering before he's terrible about it now

Detailed research on all potential issues (which leads to him having crippling spirals over all the ways this could go wrong)

Auntie Pasha and Great-Grandma Mazelinka are here for it and so overwhelmingly supportive. It's hard to resist Julian's regular suggestions of bed rest because they make it so feasible

Mazelinka's soup was heavenly for your morning sickness

Julian collected at least three different remedies for every single pregnancy symptom you had and filled multiple notebooks with doctor's observations. Even down to tracking your sleep cycle

He also called in several favors to make sure that at least two other doctors would be available leading up to your due date - one for you and one for the baby. (he still insisted on being the main one)

He managed the birth impressively well - years of medical expertise kicked in and he went full "doctor" mode, keeping a cool head and open communication and anticipating every need

Until he held his child for the first time and had to sit down because his knees gave out. He has a whole new reason to live well

Asra

You know that panicked blushy face they make? Yeah, that was it

You briefly mistook it for horror - you know he likes surprises, but this is something else - but it was really his own panic at suddenly being plunged into a whole new world of emotion and instincts

Their first motion was to reach out and place their hand over your heart to confirm it through your bond, if only because they couldn't get their words to work and they needed that grounding touch

Once he's collected himself, he's over the moon. Is it terrifying? Sure, but it's also going to be the adventure of a lifetime, and it means building a new future and family with you! As parents!

They want to tell Aisha and Salim about it as soon as you're comfortable because they've done this before, they can help. And also because they’re going to be grandparents

Covers you with enchantments to keep you and the baby safe and happy and keeps a growing list of the most unhinged baby names to make you laugh. Faust likes to gently squeeze your bump

Makes every pregnancy craving you have and tries it with you, no matter how weird. He's got three years of practice being your caregiver and his patience for the mood swings is unending

Spends an hour every night with an ear against your baby bump, listening to them grow and thrive

Offers you every type of pain relief they can find. If not for your sake, then for theirs, because seeing you hurt makes them panic

Holds you the whole way through childbirth, no matter how messy, and stays so reassuring and supportive

Scared to hold the baby at first because he's so shaky from emotions. Won't put it down once he does

Nadia

The news is so unexpected that she just can't believe it at first

As in, her brain is genuinely incapable of immediately processing what you've just told her, so she just finishes her task before running it through her head a second time before it sinks in

The loudest gasp you've ever heard, you see her drop her teacup as her hands fly to cover her mouth and she stares at you in surprise

So happy. So, so, so very happy

She was never going to pressure you into having children. Between her driven nature and her ongoing loneliness, she'd resigned herself to never being a mother after marrying Lucio

But oh my! What a wonderful surprise! There's so much to do, she's slightly worried that nine months isn't going to be enough time

She sends for multiple physicians and invites several of them to live in the Palace through the pregnancy, and begins the interview process for your baby's pediatrician as well. She wants you healthy

Has the time of her life decorating the baby's future room and ends up getting so emotional looking at all the tiny clothes and shoes

Refuses to let you sleep by yourself. She doesn't want you to feel limited on a day-to-day basis at all, but she doesn't like you being alone for too long, especially during such quiet and precious hours

Prefers to hold off on giving her family any news or updates until she's had at least a few days to let it sink it. Each update she does send provokes a tidal wave of letters and advice and offers, not to mention Grandpa Namar's tear-stained letters of excitement

Has to hide sobs when she holds her child and announces its name

Muriel

Straight up disassociates. Not due to any fault of yours, it's just a lot. Especially given his own context for parenting (or lack thereof)

"Muriel, I'm pregnant." soul gets yoinked through the stratosphere

You know him well enough to expect him to need a moment, so you're not surprised when he shakily nods, takes a deep breath, and tells you he'll be back before dark before walking off into the trees

Deeply apologetic once he gets back because in hindsight ghosting you might not have been the most appropriate response

He's happy, if not deeply anxious, but he gets more and more excited with every pregnancy update

He makes the baby's crib himself, seeking out the tree with the best wood, chopping it up, designing and cutting the pieces, carving and sanding and painting them with the utmost care

As your due date gets closer he starts reverting to an old habit of his, waking up several times through the night with a need to keep watch for any dangers or discomforts and make sure you're warm

You wake up to this sometimes, with him sitting quietly next to you in bed, one large hand resting protectively on your belly, a quiet smile on his face as he stares at the cradle on the other side of the room and counts every tiny kick the baby lands on his warm palm

He doesn't hesitate to tell Asra, Nadia, (and yes, Julian) about your pregnancy, because he knows they'll be able to help you in ways he can't. Watching you in pain during birth is almost traumatic for him

Doesn't say a word when you hand him his baby, just looks back and forth between you and them in delight and awestruck joy

Portia

Screams. Legitimate, jaw dropped, lung-deep screaming

Yes it's because she's excited!!! You're pregnant! That's amazing!!

Funnily enough, she doesn't bring up telling anybody else until several weeks have gone by or until you suggest it. She's used to keeping secrets and this is so special she's still finding words for it

She's also more familiar with what pregnancy can look like, and she doesn't want to make any big announcements with you too early

Borderline obsessive about making sure that you're properly fed and cared for. She keeps every snack stocked, gives you massages every night, asks you about any symptoms and offers relief

She ends up inviting everyone over for dinner so you two can break the news to them together, and if one Devorak wasn't loud and emotional enough, two of them are almost too much for the roof

Mazelinka is quick to offer her services, whether that be bringing soup, taking you two (three?!) to Nevivon so the grandmas can help, grabbing one of the grandmas and bringing them here, etc

Pepi develops a new habit of bringing you stolen fish at least once a day to make sure your growing kitten is properly nourished. the smell doesn't help your morning sickness but you appreciate it

Portia cries every time she sits down to work on another onesie or baby blanket or cloth diaper, which is several times a day

When it's time for you to give birth, she holds your hands as tightly as you hold hers and nearly knocks a doctor out of the way to catch the baby

Full-on happy sobbing when she holds them. Gets jealous anytime someone besides you gets to hold them longer than her

Lucio

Assumes you're joking until you tell him otherwise because what

It's not that he's against it, but realistically speaking he knows that one of him is already a lot to handle. And you're cooking another??

Once you convince him, his exuberant yells startle flocks of birds from the treetops in a half-mile radius. Speaking of trees ...

You two are journeymen. Where are you going to settle down?

You end up picking a spot close enough to Vesuvia for your old friends to be able to help, in a town where you know you'll have a fresh start. Buying a cottage is hard when you're used to a palace

Lucio occasionally remembers his mother's comments about how her pregnancy with him made the Red Plague seem like a summer cold, and then he panics about how much pain you must be in

Sits bolt-upright in bed four months in to your pregnancy in a cold sweat because it just hit him that your belly bump is actually an entire tiny human that's half him and half you and it's miraculous

Starts talking to your bump almost constantly after that

Everything from what the dogs are doing, to the right way to start a fire, to the best types of cookies - he's telling it all to the bump

Does he know, logically, that your baby isn't likely to be born missing an arm because of his amputation? Yes. Does he still have an irrational fear of that happening? Also yes.

Has such a hard time controlling his frustration during the birth when you're in pain and there's nothing he can do about it

Wraps his golden arm in a baby blanket and doesn't care about the mess the first time he holds them and presses a kiss to their head

[quinnyundertow]

Your writing has made me absolutely fall head over heels in love with Yuta! You write him so well that I look at him in a completely different light now in the manga/anime. Also, I'm very excited for the Toji sequences upcoming in WICYG! xoxo

This made me so damn happy you have no idea! I adore him to know it made you love him more just- BE STILL MY HEART!

I’ve always wanted to write out my Yuta!head-canons and this made me go all in hahaha (Sorry bestie but I hope you enjoy them)

If you forced me to pick a fav from JJK it would 100000% be Yuta. He’s so complex and yet simple as a character. He experienced so much abuse/neglect (from parents, classmates, teachers, even Rika) as a young child due to seeing/having Rika in a non sorcerer environment. Gege said Yuta doesn’t have a close relationship with his parents but is close with a little sister. That’s so easy for me to imagine.

Yuta! Head-canon: His parents are both working full time when the tragedy with Rika happens. They feel so guilty but relieved that their son survived. As time goes on however Yuta won’t stop crying at night about this monster version of his dead best friend haunting him. At first they would pour everything into trying to get him medical help but as the years go by and psychiatrists say he’s seeking attention the care turns to frustration. Probably culminating in a, “Get over it! I don’t want to hear about her ever again!” Type of argument.

Yuta!Head-canon: His little sister would have been a safe person to him. Maybe five years younger than him so they really never talked about that girl Rika who “moved away” when they were little. Rika wouldn’t feel as threatened as she’s his sister and a younger child so I could see her allowing him to form a relationship with him. At least at first. Deep down Rika is kind but she’s still a curse jealousy would crop up or a normal sibling fight could have ended with Rika hurting his little sister only for Yuta to further isolate.

Yuta!head-canon: He is hyper aware of others emotions and if there are changes to someone’s regular personality. He remembers tiny details of everything because that’s how he had to survive growing up. He had to monitor Rika constantly for little changes that could indicate she may explode or cause issues. This aspect also causes him to empathize deeply even with those who may not deserve it. He doesn’t want Rika to kill his bullies because he’s seen the kid menacing him is getting bullied by upperclassmen and understands what that means. That said if they fuck with someone he cares about all that empathy goes out the window and he’s going to make sure it doesn’t happen again.

Yuta!Head-canon: Yuta has a circle of people very close to him and once you’re in that circle he is a true ride or die. Ask him for anything and trust that shit is getting done no matter how sketchy it sounds. He is the true definition of unconditional love (We all saw how Rika got and he still deeply loved her. ) and would support and trust you totally once you have proved worthy of it by actions.

Yuta!Headcanon: He is quick to fall in love and quick to let them go. If you give him even the littlest bit of praise or extra attention he’s going to get a crush on you. He can’t help it. He’s always held everyone so far away from him so any sort of domestic or doting affection would make him melt. That said he has always had to create firm boundaries around himself and others to protect people so if you told him you’re not interested or not to text you he would abide by that completely.

Yuta!headcanon his personality is that of self sacrifice. He could never be a yandere. He understands and thinks that your life would be better without him in it. How could he try and force someone to be with him? He accidentally did that to Rika and it plagued his mind constantly and was willing to die to let her rest in peace.

I had so much fun writing these out and sorry I hijacked your post!!! I’m so happy you enjoy the story and Toji’s entry should be fun!!!! Thank you for the ask love!!!

[jonathan-samuel-smith]

TW bipolar discussion and nonconsensual kissing, mental health discussion

So about Saturn Girl kissing Jon without his ability to consent to it: I get that she isn't actively deciding to mind control the people around her, but she does have a choice in the matter. Her family wanted her to stay home until she could control her mind control powers, but she didn't want to and left. To me that's like if I noticed I was manic (not hypomanic) and didn't go to the mental hospital... Like I can't control my bipolar but I have the choice to stay away from others when it would harm them. That's not even a good comparison though because my judgement isn't clear enough to consistently do that when I'm manic, whereas she is at baseline and is able to think rationally. I wouldn't blame someone with bipolar because they have no choice, but I'm just saying the obvious choice would be to keep yourself away from others even if it's not fun for you. I feel like I can blame her, because she has a choice.

I do sympathize with her, but I really think she's hurting others disproportionately to the distress she feels stuck at home, and that's not okay.

If you look back on the events with the knowledge that she can't turn off her mind control, you see how manipulative she is, especially to Jon, and she does high-control group tactics: love bombing, isolation, guilt tripping, not letting him have rest alone where he would have time to realize he didn't want this.

I don't like the JonDami narrative that Jon was an asshole for leaving Damian in the past or was running away from his problems, because in my view he was dragged into a cult and I can't blame him for that, especially because he was extremely vulnerable at the time. I also don't believe Jon would have left in the first place if he knew up front that he couldn't bring Damian to at least visit him.

Jon had been in a state of fight or flight for around 6 years (not just talking about the volcano because there was also his verbally abusive grandpa and their deadly adventures and being trapped in space, and then him struggling to survive on the streets and trying to find a way home after he escaped) and the first time he really got a chance to cool down was when he was talking with Damian. He really needs a long break, therapy, and medication because what he went through can't be treated with therapy alone as the stress has chemical effects in the brain that need to be adjusted.

The writers don't care about how Jon should be extremely hypervigilant and defensive and anxious. I guess that's just not brave enough for a superhero, nevermind that leaving the house and getting treatment for these things, learning to trust again, and letting people help you is so much braver than punching guys when you have superpowers. It's natural to fight when your fight or flight is activated in a protective manner, but doing the logical thing when every signal in your body is telling you not to is really damn hard. The only coward is DC for giving Jon trauma and not actually writing a traumatized character.

That all being said, Damian clearly doesn't see how Jon is being manipulated, probably because his head is full of self hatred & doubting & repressed desires to ask Jon to stay, and thinks he needs to go against his abandonment trauma by swinging the pendulum too far in the opposite direction in his speech. With his c-ptsd and abandonment issues I can see him becoming bitter towards Jon for going to the future.

That could make for a really complex fanfiction, don't you think? The conflict coming from their unique life experiences and traumas, and them learning to understand each other like they're always doing. This misunderstanding of intentions born not out of something dumb like hearing the wrong thing or being unclear in language, but from their different points of view.

My jondami au where Jon leaves the legion early is calling me lmao "Isaac we have more problems for you to fix~"

That being said I have no exclusivity to these ideas for writing.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Okay, so this one has been eating at me for years and I FEEL like the asshole even though everyone involved has never expressed that they think I was an asshole. I’m terrified about what the consensus will be, and either way I should probably talk to a therapist about this now that I’ve typed it out. This one is mildly sexual but I won't include like, details of that or anything.

So basically, years ago I (20 F) was dating this guy (19 ftm) with a LOT of issues. When we first started dating, I mentioned that a lot of his issues really echoed a lot of what my mom went through when I was growing up, and that he should probably see a psychiatrist/therapist. Sure enough, turns out he’s bipolar too! We found out because the psychiatrist prescribed medication for depression that has a notoriously bad effect on bipolar folks. He started cycling rapidly and it was a lot of strain on a new relationship.

Here’s where the assholery begins. Basically, I went to visit him and his family for the first time, and we were up late that night. He was having a bit of a rollercoaster of a night. He’d been crying over something personal, and then we were laughing over a movie, and then things started to get heated. I was really kind of uncomfortable because of the wild swing of the night, and while I was into it, I knew he had a history of lying to sexual partners about his comfort with sex.

I told him over and over again over the previous months that if he didn’t want it I didn’t want to either. No one likes having sex with a partner that isn’t into it. This night though, I stopped him several times to ask him if he was sure. And at one point he asked me why I kept stopping things, and I told him because he’d had a lot of emotions that night and I didn’t want to take advantage of that.

He told me multiple times that he was fine and he was good. Fast forward several months and we’re at a party playing some question game or whatever. Someone asked me about the best sex I’d ever had, and I mentioned that night because it WAS good. That’s when my partner turns to me and says he has NO MEMORY OF THAT NIGHT AT ALL. Like he’d been so out of his mind that he’d disassociated the whole night and doesn’t remember even being there, let alone sleeping with me. I mean, it sucks bad enough that he said this in front of all of our friends. He made a joke about “your best sex was during your partners mental breakdown lol.” We were ALL super uncomfortable for the rest of the night. Now, years later I still think about how horrific it is in hindsight.

Safe, SANE, and consensual right? On one hand, I know I’m not a mind reader and had no idea he was so out of it that night. But also, I knew he has lied to partners about his own comfort with sex before and I should have stopped him there. We’re no contact now, and I’m really glad to be out of that relationship for a whole host of reasons, but I still feel like there should have been some sort of sign or something I should have picked up on that would have stopped that from happening. I feel a little violated? Like not just physically but also like he really violated my trust that he would express himself maturely and make responsible sexual decisions.

He’s never said anything to me about being upset with the way things turned out. He’s never expressed hurt or that he thinks I was in the wrong. But there’s just something about this whole situation that makes me feel like I did something irreversibly terrible to someone else. So I guess I have to ask. AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[knullanon]

Platonic Batfamily growing attached to a competent civillian informant. Grown up, like late 20s and attached to their community, they have picked up and nursed vigilantes from bloody battlefields and had quite few grazes with death over their years in Gotham

headcannons for this one! sorry for taking so long!

words: 897

warnings: blood, injuries, stalking, lmk if I missed any!

the first time that they were introduced to you was when you helped out Dick with a leg injury. It was in the middle of the night, and he was just about to pass out, when you showed up. while he originally thought it was someone to finish him off, when you pulled out medical equipment from seemingly nowhere.

he was really confused. did Bruce send for you? did you just spot him and so happened to have bandages? while he had a bunch of questions, after you were finished you just waved at him and then walked away. he didn't remember much as soon afterward Cass found him, but he told her about the strange experience.

she was also a a little confused, and worried. they both looked into it, and found out about who you were. when they told Bruce, he decided to ask around, to see if anyone else knew anything. apparently, you would just go up to injured heroes, patch them up, say goodbye and then walk off. on a regular occurrence.

while Bruce was intrigued, he also knew that maybe appearing before you to thank you wouldn't be a good idea, so he really left it alone. and then his other kids started meeting you.

Tim had a dislocated arm. duke was bleeding from a stab wound. even Damian, however reluctant to accept the help, had to be fixed up by you once in a while.

and then, one day it was Bruce who you found. he was suffering from a cut on his side, one that was a little too painful to just walk away from. he was leaning against a wall, already trying to contact Alfred for a hand, when you just appeared.

you two just stared at each other for a minute, before he decided "fuck it" and let you do your thing. this was also the turning point where he decided to get some answers.

"who are you?" "_____." "why do you do this?" "because I am good at it."

after you were done, you just left. again.

Bruce already had your info and who you were, he had known about it since you first appeared. but it after his encounter with you, he actually decided to do some stalking of his own.

he soon realized that it wasn't just some occurrence that you were more often in Gotham than other cities: you preferred helping the family, often going out of your way to find them in case they needed a medic.

eventually, it was a regular occurrence to see you around the batfamily or even just hanging out with them while they're on patrol.

at some point, Bruce just decided to give you access to the cave because 1, you pretty much only go out as your 'medic' persona with the rest of the family, and 2, he realized you were almost like Dick.

this new promotion also made you officially part of the batfam. while beforehand, they couldn't do much about you or how you thought because of your independence from them. however, after you're given access, they will try to convince you to become a "base medic", or basically only stay at the cave on duty.

at first, you think it was a joke by the kids because you really only wait for someone to be injured, and then you can do your job. but then the whole family starts to get in on it, telling you the perks of not having to prowl the streets all night or day looking for trouble.

you point out that they do almost the same thing, but your arguments are ignored. it's only when Alfred sits you down to ask if you would become the medic is when you realize you probably should consider it.

if you do accept the idea, then there wouldn't be any other issues. they'll set you up probably with your own little area, for you to patch them up and make sure they're alright. eventually, you won't really need to go outside that much, as everything you need is provided by them, so why would you leave?

if you don't, it will only be a matter of time before you do. your apartment suddenly got destroyed or you're being evicted for no reason? they have (many) spare rooms at the manor! your income isn't making ends meet for supplies? they have plenty of them in the cave!

even if for some reason you avoid or fix every scheme of theirs to somehow "ruin" your life, they will just tell you "get in the cave or we'll drag you there."

while sometimes it's lonely in the cave, Alfred is almost always there. he likes to just sit down and talk to you, like a grandparent asking their kid how their school is going.

the rest of the family always avoids topics that relate to the outside all the time. even if you ask, they'll try to redirect the conversation to something else, usually someone's injuries to try and distract you.

while they understand that you want to leave, or that you want to help other people, they tell you that a lot has changed in Gotham, or that you don't know what it's really like. basically anything that will keep you from getting curious about the outside.

they will never let you outside again.

~~~

love you guys! ヾ(￣▽￣)

[concerningwolves]

I've been walking around with this hypermobility diagnosis my entire life, and no medical professional ever told me definitively what it means. My parents can't remember specifically when I was diagnosed or who by – I was a severely premature baby with a rare disorder and a slew of other health issues, and the hypermobility got lost somewhere in there with all the other medical noise. Mostly, I was left to see hypermobility as something that made me super bendy and was fun to pull out at parties when I made all my fingers bend weirdly.

Everything I have been told about hypermobility came to me piecemeal, usually by happenstance. A nurse who said that the hypermobility explained why it was always difficult to draw my blood. A GP who mentioned that hypermobility was likely why my ankle hadn't broken, but had instead subluxated and then been left to heal incorrectly because it'd been misdiagnosed as a sprain. A rheumatologist who I was only seeing because of a colossal fuckup, who explained that hypermobility makes you far more prone to bruising. Everything else, I had to find out under my own steam, trawling websites repeatedly over the years and watching as the body of information grew.

When I went to my paediatrician with joint pain, she told me it was growing pains on multiple occasions. I've been to physiotherapy three times and multiple OTs when I was younger and none of them noticed that my knees' resting position was hyperextended. (It took 22 years and the aforementioned colossal fuckup that landed me back at rheumatology instead of seeing the chronic pain specialist nurse for someone to tell me that that wasn't normal.) PE teachers and gymnastics instructors made me feel lazy and inadequate and work-shy instead of thinking hey, this child has told us he's hypermobile, maybe we should pay attention to that. For a little while I got to use a portable slanted desk in middle school which was meant to make writing easier for me in lessons (it didn't). In high school I got to use an AlphaSmart – not because anyone listened when I explained that writing caused me serious hand pain, but because I was writing too slowly to keep up in lessons (and I was still told repeatedly by teachers that they were surprised I needed the AlphaSmart because my handwriting was so neat, as if that had anything to do with anything). It wasn't until my GCSEs that I first got serious accommodations in exams.

Did all those doctors I saw about my pain just think I was, I don't know, too young to be sick? I was born sick. It was there in my records! They knew, and they either decided I was some other speciality's problem or they straight up did not care.

Children can be ill and disabled. More than that, they deserve to be given all the information they might need and be offered necessary accommodations. They should be listened to! Parents shouldn't have to fight and claw for something as simple as a crappy plastic slanted desk. If I could trawl my brain to extract everything I'm feeling right now and inject it into the minds of every doctor who failed me, I would.

[goldenavenger02]

Cant rlly decide which one but what ab the ninja helping each other tend their wounds?

I put a lot of thought into this (and if you're seeing this and sent an ask, I'm working on the rest of them. I just don't really have time to write except at night right now) so I hope you enjoy, anon!

“Guys, do you feel that?” 

“Feel what?”

“It's so warm.” Jay sighed contently with a smile on his face and despite rolling her eyes, Nya still wrapped her arm around his hip and pulled him closer to her.

PIXAL couldn’t help but wonder what had happened in the Never Realm without her assistance but, given the bright pink tint to all of their cheeks as well as the gash across Lloyd’s forehead and bruising on Cole’s arms, it looked as though it had not been a very pleasant experience.

In fact, the only one who looked somewhat normal was Zane, who she had been unable to stop herself from jumping into his arms and yet, even he looked worse for wear; something in his bright blue eyes ached of a sadness that she couldn’t understand nor wanted to dissect in front of the others for his sake.

“While I am glad to see all of you,” Wu finally broke the greetings, turning all of their attention towards him, “perhaps all of you making your way to the medical wing would be a good idea.”

“In the nicest way possible,” PIXAL added, her hand grasped tightly around Zane’s, “all of you are looking a bit worse for wear.”

“Good idea.” Kai agreed, his vision obviously fixated on Lloyd and Nya despite his raw palms, which was only made more clear by his gentle nudging against their shoulder blades.

Jay and Cole followed suit with Wu trailing behind them, leaving the two of them alone in the courtyard, her hand still tightly gripped in his.

“Are you in need of repairs?” She finally asked as she let go of his hand to fully focus her green eyes on him, trying to look past his blue eyes to figure out just what was bothering him.

“I do not believe so.”

“Good. Are you able to be of assistance with the others, then?”

“I’m afraid not,” Zane shook his head, “I need some time to myself, I think, to regain my bearings.”

“Very well. But, when you are ready to talk, I am ready to listen.”

“Thank you, PIXAL.” Zane nodded before making his way towards his sleeping quarters which gave her no choice but to make her way toward the med bay and the workload that lay before her in the form of varying degrees of frostbite at the very least.

It wasn’t unusual for Kai’s concern over the others, especially Nya and Lloyd, to echo throughout the hall leading to the medical wing; after the haunting silence that had filled the monastery for the last couple of weeks, the ruckus was welcoming.

Sure enough, when she stepped through the sliding doors, Kai was sitting on the edge of the cot that Lloyd had taken residence in with Nya and Jay sitting together on the one a few beds down with Nya resting her head on Jay’s shoulder as her glance was firmly fixated on Cole, who had already taken one of the pillows and covered his eyes with it.

Despite the circumstances, seeing all of them together made her smile for a moment before she ran her hands under the running water and donned a pair of nitrile gloves; she turned away from the counter and made eye contact with the five ninja as she asked, “who’s first?”

After some insistence on everyone’s end, trying to get someone else to be the first one, PIXAL decided on Cole so he could go ahead and get what looked like some much needed sleep; he had been uncharacteristically quiet since he had stepped through the portal but she also knew that if she needed to know what was going on in his mind that he would come to her in his own time.

Despite having been a part of their group for a few years now, she still did not feel comfortable pressing any of them to speak to her. Not that she usually had to, with how often they would come to her and vent their individual issues to her as she repaired yet another vehicle or mech.

Maybe it was the fact that she spent a good chunk of time behind Zane’s eyes, with no one speaking directly to her except for Zane until she uploaded her subconscious into The Bounty’s computer while she continued to rebuild herself into the best version she could be.

But Cole didn’t have any severe injuries and was sent out of the med bay to go lay down almost as soon as she started to prod at his unnaturally cold skin. The same was true of Jay, who was the least injured and exhausted of the group, and Nya, who had the familiar dark circles of exhaustion weighing her under eyes down.

Kai’s eyes followed Nya as she walked out of the room, but he quickly snapped his gaze towards PIXAL when she started to examine the red, puffy skin that covered his hands and tried to pull away from her.

“I’m fine, I didn’t hit my head on a tree trunk after being in a different realm for less than twenty four hours.” He insisted, his gaze pointedly on Lloyd as he pointed out the comparison, who flipped him off in return as exhaustion weighed heavy on his face.

“I will address Lloyd’s injuries as well,” she insisted as she pulled out the tube of burn cream and started to apply it to Kai’s injured palms, “but these need to be wrapped up if you do not wish for them to become infected.”

PIXAL didn’t mention that the look of guilt engrained in Lloyd’s features was making her wonder if she knew what had resulted in Zane being so distant when he stepped through the portal after weeks of being alone in a cold, foreign realm.

It didn’t take long for her to wrap up the burns that made their way up Kai’s lower wrists, despite how extensive they were, and send him to his room to get some much needed rest with a promise of checking on how the wounds were healing in a few hours.

She couldn’t help but wonder what Kai said to Lloyd in a whisper just loud enough that it hit his ear before making his way through the sliding doors and leaving the two of them in the room alone; she was quiet as she worked, gently wrapping his cold fingers in loose bandages, cleaning the gash on his forehead and checking the dilation of his pupils which revealed a mild concussion.

It wasn’t until she asked if he had any other injuries and he tugged off the top half of his jade green gi that she found herself holding back a gasp of shock.

The rest of the ice that had remained from the Never Realm had been white and tinged with snow, but PIXAL recognized blue-tinged ice all too well; it was the ice that came from her boyfriend’s fingertips, proving her correct in her hypothesis about Lloyd knowing why Zane had been so distant.

When she finally found the courage to make contact with the green eyes, she could see the regret spilling off of him as she spoke while gently examining the sides of the burn that trailed down most of his right side.

“I think it would be wise for you to tell me why this burn was caused by elemental ice.”

“It’s not-” Lloyd flinched away from her gloved hands with a hiss through his teeth while he gripped the side of the cot tightly in his left hand, “it’s not my place.”

“Lloyd, you are injured and I am doing my best to help you heal,” she explained calmly as she pulled her hands away and approached the counter again to soak one of the compresses in warm water, “that being said, knowing how you obtained the injury will allow me to determine if there is a need to be on the lookout for internal damage.”

He remained quiet as she continued to prepare the compress, making sure that it was warm enough to rewarm the skin but not so hot that it would only cause more harm than good; while she worked, she couldn’t help but wonder why.

Why had Zane attacked Lloyd? Just how distraught was he when he was finally found by the others? And to her, possibly the most worrying thought that made its way to the forefront of her mind was how upset was he with the others now?

“It wasn’t his fault,” Lloyd blurted out with another hiss of pain as she pressed the compress onto his skin, “all of it, it wasn’t…he was lied to.”

“Please, Lloyd. I wish to know exactly what happened, for everyone’s sake,” she stopped to maneuver the compress so it covered the entirety of the burn, “and it’s not like you do not have the time to speak to me.”

It seemed to PIXAL that her words were the final push that Lloyd had needed to finally give her all of the details. About the Ice Emperor, about the final message he found in the cave and about Vex and how he had twisted Zane’s erased mind into a ruler set on destruction and control.

“That’s how I got this,” Lloyd finished with a gesture to his side, “I was trying to stop him and because he had that scroll, I…I wasn’t able to keep him busy for long.”

“I never did like holding that scroll.” PIXAL pressed her lips together tightly in order to keep her thoughts about what she would have done to Vex if she had followed them to herself, all while gathering the supplies to loosely wrap the burn.

“You and me both.” Lloyd’s chuckle was dry as it hit her ears but not surprising, given what Nya had told her about both Lloyd’s experience holding the scroll as well as the mirror that sat inside of the Explorer’s Club.

“I require you to sit up, if you are able,” she spoke, unable to keep herself from gritting her teeth in sympathy as he pushed himself upright with his brows furrowed in pain, before she was able to start wrapping the large burn loosely, “I will speak to Zane if you wish, he might be more receptive to my interpretation of the situation.”

“Which is?”

“That he was brainwashed into going against his programming and that I have some very strong choice words for this “Vex” for what he did to him as well as the others.”

“Good inter-” a yawn cut him off, “interpretation.”

“You should get some rest,” PIXAL insisted while pulling the clean, white sheet over him, “I shall return in around an hour to see if I need to continue to treat your burn with the compress. Would you like me to ask Kai if he will keep you company?”

“Nah, he needs the rest.” Lloyd mumbled as he rested his pink-tinted cheek against the white pillowcase, his hair sprawling around his head.

As soon as she could hear the snoring, however, PIXAL knew she couldn’t rest and made her way out of the medical wing of the monastery towards the individual sleeping quarters.

After all, she still had to speak to Zane.

[subwaysurf45]

Daunting Doctor’s Visit

Summary: going to the doctor’s had never really been a fun idea to you, it wasn’t a good time. luckily Bucky’s happy to be your plus one when you have your yearly physical packed with everything you’ve been putting off for a while. 

Words: 3,112

Warnings: takes place a doctor’s office, mentions of blood work, pap smear, medications, birth control, other medical issue, inaccurate descriptions of medical procedures, inaccurate medical advice. 

Your foot wouldn’t stop tapping, the rest of your body was still but your foot was moving fast. You had your bag over your arm and your jacket on, ready at the door and anxiously waiting. With the way your arms were crossed you could see your watch, counting the seconds until the following minute, doing the math to know how fast you needed to get there. 

“Sorry,” Bucky ran down the stairs, the entire old house creaked, “sorry, the fucking call went longer than expected, I really-” “Tell me in the car please,” you pointed at the shoes you had laid out for him to literally slip into, “we really have to go.” 

“I got you,” Bucky had his shoes on in no time, opening the door for you and linking his arm with yours, “we’re not going to be late, it’s alright.” 

The doctor's office wasn’t exactly paradise on Earth, there had never been a moment at the office where you were scarred to the extent that you swore never to come back; it just made you extremely uncomfortable. You were going for a yearly physical and also a pap smear, blood work, and a talk about your medications. Normally you’d wait until everything pilled up so you could make one trip and forget about it for the rest of the year. 

Bucky drove with one hand on the wheel and the other holding your hand on the center console, you had told Bucky early in your relationship about being on birth control and other meds to help with your mental health, and the moment you realized he was the one was when he started to pay and pick up your birth control for you. Never complained about it once and even made sure you took it, the same with the other meds. 

“We’re not going to be late,” he said at the red light, “nothing to worry about.” he looked over to see your head down, trying to focus on your breathing, “good deep breathes, babe, really good,” the hand that was holding yours was brought to his lips. 

“Can you hold my hand during the pap smear?” you whispered. 

“I can hold your hand the entire time if you want,” he squeezed your hand, “I don’t care if I’m sitting on the examination table with you or awkwardly reaching across the room, alright?” you nodded and the light turned green, Bucky kissed your hand again and drove forward. 

There had been times when you’d talk to your mom about being tired too often and she’d randomly spring it on the doctor, they’d ask to take blood and you couldn’t exactly say no even though you were not prepared for it in the slightest. When you were first put on birth control was not for sex at all, your dad was still livid at the idea of a high schooler taking a pill like that. 

You could feel the judgement of the other people in the room, everyone was looking at one another as they tried to figure out what was wrong with someone. There would be times when old people or children would openly stare at you, with no shame at all when you sat there on your own. Nothing was wrong with you, you either wanted to switch medication or needed to get a vaccine but it felt like people had other ideas about you. 

“What if they think we’re pregnant?” you asked as you sat in the parking lot, not ready to get out of the car yet. 

“So what?” Bucky faced you, having already unbuckled you and himself. 

“They’ll think I’m a slut for having a kid so early,” your hands rubbed together, “they’ll think we’re trying to get rid of it.” 

“Babe,” Bucky leaned forward and made you look at him, “you’ll never see these people again, I promise you that. And if you do?” a smile graced his lips, “they won’t recognize you, they’re not going to point you out at the grocery store at the girl who went to the doctors that one day in the summer, alright?” his hand cupped your cheek, “I know it’s scary, but I believe no one will pay any mind to you, I won’t let go of your hand,” his lips pressed against your temple, “I promise.” 

“Okay,” you whispered, “let’s go.” 

You sat in the waiting room after checking in, you had Bucky’s hand in your lap to trace and fiddle with. You’d clean out the small bits of dirt from under his nails, or gently run the pad of your thumb over his nail bed. Your eyes were heavily focused on his hand, the veins and his knuckles, there were so many things to trace and count you simply didn’t have the time. 

“Babe,” Bucky whispered, “they called you.” 

You stood and so did Bucky, following you to the back and into one of many rooms. The doctor quickly joined you, shaking Bucky’s hand. “I’m Dr. Reaya, a pleasure to meet you.” 

“You too,” Bucky smiled and sat with you on the table. 

“Okay, so,” she flipped through the pages, “how about we get the pap over and done with, how does that sound?” 

“Good,” you nodded and immediately picked up Bucky’s hand. 

“Are you nervous?” 

You didn’t respond, shutting your eyes tightly to prevent any tears from slipping through. Bucky never talked over you or for you, he was good about letting you have your voice. But he knew when to pipe in, “she’s nervous about everything.” 

“It’ll hurt more if you’re nervous,” she pulled the straps down for your feet, “if you could take your bottoms off and lay back on the table, placing your feet in the stirrups that would be appreciated.” she left after that, giving you both a moment. 

“Here,” he held out his hand after you took your bottoms off, he placed them on the chair he had brought up to the table before sitting on them. “You’re alright,” he whispered and helped you to get under the sheet. 

“May I come back in?” the Doctor asked, and Bucky answered for you. 

“Can I hold your hand?” you whispered as the Doctor and another nurse walked in, they were preparing for the examination and didn’t hear you. 

Bucky didn’t verbally answer, all he did was take your hand into his and brought it close to his chest. He was watching you tentatively, but he hid it well. 

“Alright,” the nurse began, talking you through everything, “you’re going to feel a slight cramp…” her voice trailed off, “please try not to stiffen,” her voice sounded as though her brows were pulled together and her tongue poked out of her lips. 

“Hey, look at me,” Bucky hushed, “remember how we first met?” he smiled, “at the party?”

“Yeah,” you grunted out. 

“Can you tell me?” 

Natasha had left you to hook up with a guy, you were proud of her. After that horrendous dumping by her Ex, you knew Steve would treat her right, maybe for more than a night. The only issue was that you were left alone at a party you weren’t invited to, these were Natasha’s friends and it was obvious. It was like you were invisible in the backyard where smoke and laughter filled the air. 

You stood off to the side with a classic red cup in your hand, slowly sipping it and looking around for someone to talk to, anyone really. These people were frat boys who didn’t make the cut, people who brought the high school to university to make sure they kept living their glory days for as long as possible. The girls acted like in every movie out there, the cheerleader who ran the squad, all yelling over one another to get someone’s attention. It was weird to see them all be so passive, preaching about feminism while pulling up old ugly photos of people they barely knew. Natasha wasn’t like that but somehow accepted it. 

“Are you dissecting them with your eyes?” two guys approached you, “I don’t think it’s any fun to stand and watch the party, there are guys trying to convince everyone to jump in their pool.” 

“I’m guessing you two want to hide from the awkward no?” you laughed as you took a sip of whatever was in your drink. 

“Precisely,” the other one spoke, he was handsome and quiet. Long brown hair sat perfectly in his face, enough to cover his features but not enough to have him shake his mane out so he could see better. 

“I’m Sam, this is James.” 

“Nice to meet you,” you reached out and shook their hands, “I’m waiting for my friend.” 

“Who?” Sam asked, shifting his weight and getting more comfortable in the conversation, it seemed he actually wanted to stay and talk. 

“Natasha,” the moment you said her name the two boy’s faces lit up, they looked at each other with the widest smiles; only to be described as boy smiles. 

Sam reached out and grabbed your shoulder, but only James noticed your slight flinch. “Is she with Steve?” 

“Yeah-”

“Yes!” Sam yelled, also causing you to flinch back. “He’s been going after your friend forever, changing how he walks to classes, stalking her Instagram, this entire party he’s been hyping himself up to talk to her.” 

You felt comfortable, “it was probably Natasha who made the first move.” 

“I also agree,” James laughed, “she seemed headstrong and my boy was-and still is-shit whipped for her,” they both started laughing. 

“I’m y/n by the way,” you smiled. 

James’ lips slightly parted, “sorry, completely forgot to ask, we’re so caught up in our friend's sex life recently it’s been getting in the way,” James quickly shot one eyebrow up, his hand was going to your shoulder to either playfully punching it or squeeze it to apologize but he caught himself, awkwardly moving the hair out of his eyes. 

“Nice to meet you,” Sam said after looking over his shoulder, “I’ll see you around, y/n.” 

“Likewise,” you smiled and waved, James didn’t leave. You just stared at him before sipping your drink, breaking and fixing your eye contact rapidly. “Sorry,” you whispered. 

“What are you sorry about?” James smiled, he wasn’t holding a drink so his hands found the pockets of his jeans. 

You were known for apologizing for no reason, “I-sorry-I do that sometimes, nothing is worth apologizing over but it fills the awkward silence.” 

“I see,” James smiled and looked around, “look, I wanted to come over because you looked very scared, I’ve been sober all night, do you want me to drive you home?” he pained through a smile, “and I know it’s not ideal to have a man who you don’t know, have no proof that he’s sober, and has only talked to you about your friend’s sex lives-” you both laughed a little more, “-I know it’s not your first choice, I can even pay for an Uber if you want.” 

“I don’t know,” you looked down into your cup. 

“I don’t want to like…kick you out, that’s the last thing I want,” he stepped closer, “but I also know exactly how you feel in the sense that you don’t really know anyone and you’re standing off in the corner, it’s boring and lonesome and maybe you don’t like me and just want to go home, who knows,” he shrugged, “you seem like a girl with too much on her mind, I want to help ease that.” 

“Why are you so good at that?” You whispered into your cup, fighting back the stupid childish tears that were forming. Why was crying so easy when alcohol was in your system? 

“Did I-” James cut himself off, “I live here, do you want to go to my room for some quiet?” he noticed your tears, “shit, I am so sorry, y/n,” he hovered his hand over your shoulders, after a gentle nod he placed them down, “come to my room, I’ll let you have some peace and quiet.” 

You kept your head down as you walked, no one paid any mind. It was too late that night for people to be alert or even care about a stranger, no one knew you were crying. James walked behind you with his hand on your shoulder, it just so happened you walked inside first. After climbing the stairs you looked over your shoulder and James walked ahead of you, taking you to his small room. 

“Here, I’ll run downstairs and grab some water for you,” he smiled and quickly left. 

Even in your jeans, your party top, your makeup, in everything…the moment you laid back in bed you fell asleep right away. 

“There we go, all done,” the nurse said. 

“That’s it?” you gasped, “it’s done?” 

“The hard part is done, I’ll step outside and you can put your bottoms back on and then we can talk about the other stuff,” the nurse smiled as she followed the doctor outside of the room. 

“Way to go,” Bucky leaned over and kissed you, it was like he was breathing a deep breath into your lungs, “god, I’m fucking proud of you,” he kissed your forehead next, “we’re definitely stopping for a coffee on the way home, especially if they take your blood but also for a little reward, alright?” 

“Thank you,” you breathed out as you slipped on your shorts, “I love you,” the words were so casual between the two of you but in moments like these the weight of them changed. 

“Love you too, baby,” Bucky kissed you again, you loved it when he didn’t ask and would just go for it, making it seem like he couldn’t hold back long enough. 

The rest of the doctor's appointment was somewhat smooth sailing, they took blood and you saw the way Bucky’s brows were continuously pinched together, his eyes scanned your face probably because it lost a little bit of colour. You got one vaccine which was in and out, the last thing on your agenda was your medications. 

“I feel really foggy when I take them if that makes sense,” you fiddled with your fingers as you spoke, “like some film over the way I see the world and I miss the way it was, all of my memories are happier once I compare them to the mental state I’m in,” your eyes flicked to Bucky who looked slightly upset, “and I don’t mean that I’m unhappy now, well-...” you sighed and rubbed your forehead, “I have everything I’ve ever wanted right now, a wonderful boyfriend, a well-paying job, friendships, no stress about money - I’m in the sweet spot right now, which makes me wonder why I’m not feeling ten out of ten right now if that makes sense…” you trialed off with a shrug. 

“There are two ways we could approach this,” your Doctor looked at your chart, “you can either switch companies, every pharmaceutical company has a medication for you, you just might not have the right one.” you looked at Bucky and nodded, “or you can take a break with meds right now for about six months and then you can come back and we can re-access.” 

“I think I’ll take a break,” you nodded. 

“Wonderful,” your Doctor smiled and wrote something down. 

With nothing else left to talk about you left, feeling lighter and more confident in yourself. Bucky kept his word and bought you a coffee on the way home, even getting a cookie for you two to split. He was his normal self the entire way home, Bucky wasn’t the type of guy to need to talk all the time, he was quite alright with silence between two people. 

Once you were home you sprawled out on the bed, “my fucking arm,” you sighed, “that vaccine takes so much out of you.” 

“I have a question,” Bucky disregarded what you said and laid down beside you, also laying on his stomach and looking right at you, “when you were talking about your happiness I-”

“Bucky, don’t,” you reached out and touched his lips, “I’m happy with you and I love you and it’s my own brain that puts a black-and-white filter over things sometimes, it’s not you, I’m fully happy with you.” 

“Okay,” he said quietly, “just tell me if there’s anything I can do.” 

“Anything you can do?” you repeated as you rolled over on top of him, straddling his abs, “you drove me to an appointment I could have driven to myself, you held my hand during my pap smear, you bought me a coffee, and you make me so happy everyday-I don’t think there’s anything else you can do, you’re the perfect guy!” you laughed and leaned forward, hugging him tightly. 

“Alright,” he blushed and tried to hide his face, “you make me happy too,” he muttered, “really fucking happy, like, my heart beats a little faster every time I see you.” 

“Shut up,” you giggled, trying to roll off of him. 

Bucky grabbed you tightly and rolled with you, finding space between your legs so he could be as close as possible. Out of nowhere, he began to tickle you, he admitted once he did it to get your real laugh out. You had a fake one because you thought your real laugh was loud and ugly, not wanting to startle people. But when he found that spot on your waist you threw your head back with a cackle, trying to get him to stop. 

“I’m gonna pee!” you screamed, he was switching between your neck, waist, and armpits. You attempted to fight back by tickling him but that let him sneak under your arms. 

“Let me hear that laugh!” he yelled over your pleads for him to stop, once you let it out and began to really laugh he somewhat slowly down but didn’t entirely stop. His hands were fast as he moved from every place on your body, half of the spots weren’t ticklish but you were in the laughing mood-

“Ow, my fucking sore arm!” 

“...sorry…”

Main Masterlist

Taglist: tag list:  @imtherain @jackiehollanderr @redneckstrash @tylard-blog1 @readingbooksdrinkingtea @linzc-reader @hotleaf-juice @honeybunchesofbucky @sky0401 @striving4averagegirl @seybox @yaszx @happyt0exist @honeybunchesofbucky @munsonettee @searchf0rtheskyline @aya-fay @emi11ie 

if you would like to be added to the taglist please send an ask, I won't reply but know I've seen it!

[rayshippouuchiha]

... Chisaki Kai unironically pays for quirkless feet pics. None of the precepts bring it up and the rest of the yakuza grunts never know. (Precepts think its weird but also don't wanna die)

Oh my GODS what if

Izuku somehow looses his shoes during the raid and like, Chisaki SEES and looses his shit because holy fuck this guy should be quirkless. Everyone questions how he could recognize on sight (could lead to Izuku having to pay for medical supplies during middle school and You Know What fuck yea hes going to monitize his quriklessness, or just, Chisaki has mad attention to detail)

By the gods, you asked and now we shall all receive:

For all of the different, and often times horrifying, ways Izuku has imagined his side job finally being discovered, he can honestly say this scenario wasn't the one he saw sitting at the top of the charts.

Here, of course, being in the middle of the street, mid-villain fight.

Or if he's being more accurate about the parts that are really sticking out to him: mid-villain fight in front of his homeroom teacher, a half dozen of his classmates, numerous other pro heroes and police officers, and the little girl strapped to his back.

Izuku had always kind of imagined he'd forget to close his laptop or his mom would walk in on him setting up a shoot one day despite him being meticulous about making sure she's out of the house and well away before he ever even thinks about pulling out his gear.

He'd only ever briefly entertained, admittedly nonsensical and wildly sleep-deprived, thoughts about this particular scenario happening.

And yet, here he is.

Izuku's honestly not sure how, exactly, he'd managed to lose his shoes in the battle. Hell, up until roughly ten seconds ago he hadn't really even noticed all that much or been all that inclined to care.

All he'd been focused on was protecting Eri and kicking Overhaul into the next calendar year. Most everything else, including his lost shoes and destroyed socks, hadn't seemed anywhere near as urgent as those two issues.

But he's absolutely noticing and caring now.

Izuku is absolutely going to hunt down whichever one of his ancestors it was who pissed off a luck kami or caused someone to curse their entire family line to "live in interesting times" and set their gravestone on fire.

Because divine retribution or an ancient curse has to be the reason why he's in this position.

"It is you, isn't it, Yamikumo?" Overhaul rasps in his direction, expression twisted in what looks a lot like some horrible form of almost starstruck confusion.

"Aa-hh," Izuku sputters out a broken sound, mind still not fully willing to accept what Overhaul saying that name to him has to mean.

"It has to be," Overhaul keeps on, eyes fever bright. "You're even wearing the white polish I sent you."

That statement's enough to snap Izuku's mind back into focus. Because that means ,,,

"Mr. Clean!?" Izuku squawks out the username of one of his best and most loyal customers.

And, much to his ever-mounting horror, Overhauls' face practically lights up.

"Yes!" The villain practically crows despite the fact that Izuku still has him pinned to the ground, with one bare heel digging into his collar bone.

But then, Izuku can't help but think just a bit hysterically, given all that's just been revealed, he's probably enjoying that part of this entire situation.

"I'd recognize those beautiful toes of yours anywhere," Overhaul keeps going, one clearly broken and disfigured hand coming up to pet the top of Izuku's foot gently. "But how? I don't understand, Yamikumo. You're supposed to be quir-"

Izuku knows exactly what Overhaul is about to announce so he does the only rational thing he can do in this situation.

He shifts his weight and brings his other bare foot down heel first against Overhaul's temple.

The villain collapses the rest of the way onto the rubble beneath him, finally, blessedly, unconscious.

"Problem Child," Aizawa-sensei's voice from so close behind him, and not to mention the obvious confusion in it, sends a shaft of pure dread straight down Izuku's spine. "What the actual fuck?"

By this point, Izuku thinks as the edges of his vision begin to blacken, passing out is basically self-defense.

[russellsppttemplates]

Take me home (Pierre Gasly)

Y/N's been needing to feel what is like to be at home and luckily for her, Pierre seems to be the one to allow her to build a roof over his heart

Note: english is not my first language, here is some Pierre content that I wrote after hearing a song I haven’t heard in ages and it made me think of this immediately. I tried to depict a reality I got to know over the past few weeks and I hope I treated it respectfully as I know that is obviously bigger than anything I could have tried to write here. Also, I feel like this is a shitty piece but I am way to insistent apparently

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm not taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so but know that I'm not certain when I'll be able to tend to them!

Tw: living away from family

"Pierre, they're going to need you downstairs in 10 minutes to check if your seat is okay!", you called for the driver inside his room in the hospitality since one of the mechanics had asked for the favour given that you were going upstairs anyway, "Since when do you do these call-ups? Usually Fabiana is the one ordering me about. Wait, is this finally you succumbing into my charms?", he said as he opened the door, catching you still in the corridor. The french man had no issue flirting openly with you, he never had from the first moment he noticed in the preseason new staff introduction meeting where he sat next to you and had already asked for your number so you could grab dinner together. And much to his disappointment, you had politely denied every single advance he had made in the last year. "Marc asked me to do it, so I'm being a nice colleague", you explained, not missing the smirk on his lips, "and you could be so nice to me too", he said, "I am nice to you, since when am I not nice?", you glared playfully, having had different variations of the same conversation many times before, "you are, but it would be even better if you finally accepted my dinner invitation", he said, earning a shake from your head before you made your way into your office.

.

Pierre was back from his media duties when he found you sorting papers into files in the engineers' room, your focused expression capturing him like always. It was the way your was always up in a ponytail to prevent your hair hindering you in the eyes, making him see all of your features perfectly, your moles, the scars on your face, the crease between your eyebrows whenever you didn't understand something or the crinkles on your eyes when someone said something funny and your smile got the biggest and most beautiful he had ever seen. "Sorry, do you need the room? I won't be long, if you can wait", you asked when you noticed you weren't alone, "No, no, I was just looking for John because he said we'd meet up to talk about the race but he's not here yet apparently", he said as he sat in one of the chairs next to you, "Congratulations on P8, by the way", you said softly, stapling some sheets together before looking for the hole puncher in the middle of the mess on the table. Grabbing the gadget for you, Pierre handed it, "Here", he smiled, "and thanks, with everything that happened around this weekend, it was definitely a positive to extract from it", he replied before he heard John get inside the room, patting Pierre's back before placing his hand confortingly on your shoulder, "Do you need help, Y/N?", he asked, "No, this is the last one for now. I can't do the rest before we get moving tomorrow, by the way, you didn't confirm yet if you're coming with the rest of the travelling crew...?", you forwarded, closing the binder and grabbing the other two you had done, "I can't, I have a medical appointment but I'll meet you on day two, hopefully", he said before you nodded and excused yourself, Pierre failing to hide his confusion and endearment as you walked out of the room. "What are you thinking so much about, Pierre?", John asked, "the team are leaving already today?", he asked, knowing how much preparation a race involved but also knowing they would have two weeks in-between the next race weekend, "early tomorrow. Despite having more time to dot it, they need someone to supervise and make sure everything gets there without any issues", he replied, noticing the AlphaTauri driver was still not processing the whole information, "and Y/N is the one doing that. Not alone, but she is a big part of the department that ensures that", he explained the full thing. "So, she doesn't go and see her family and friends all that often then?", he asked, having talked to a good part of the staff that made sure himself and Yuki could race in the best conditions possible every weekend, hearing many FaceTime stories from parents and their children and partners or the quick visits they could pay eachother, "Yeah, she's probably the one who sees them the least, they can't come to many races because they have their own jobs and she barely had time to go too, especially after the pandemic and all. I think she saw them last four weeks ago, maybe", he said, knowing you wouldn't mind him sharing that and noticing Pierre's genuine concern about it.

.

You were celebrating the team's results on that weekend when you felt Pierre's hand on your back, "cheers to this weekend!", he said as he clinked his glass with your, you both taking a sip as you looked into eachother's eyes, "you don't want to be inside?", you asked, wondering why he had followed you to the balcony area of the get together that had been thrown because of the results he was partly responsible for, "No. I noticed you were having a hard time today and I came to check up on you", he forwarded, now wanting to seem too nosy but wondering if you maybe wanted a shoulder to cry on. Feeling your eyes get filled with tears, you looked up to the sky so you could hold them back somehow, "are you just being nice or can I actually open my soul?", you asked, figuring that if he really was all in like he said he was, this would be a good starting point, seeing him nod for you to proceed, "I haven't seen my parents in a while, same with my friends. And today is also marks two years that I have applied for this job and I love it so much, and it's silly because everyone here is my family, but sometimes is hard to feel at home. I don't want to sound ungrateful, because AlphaTauri are my second family but yeah, it gets hard", you whispered, tears running freely now as you felt Pierre's thumbs wipe your cheeks. "You're not ungrateful because you miss your family, your home. Everyone here is working so hard week in and week out and you barely have time for everything", he mused, smiling a sad smile when he noticed your breathing wad back to normal and you had leaned into his touch, "it's just an accumulation I guess, tomorrow I'll be fine but today it really hit me I think", you said as you allowed your body to lean completely on his, your head landing on his shoulder.

When the music died down and everyone started leaving, Pierre grabbed your hand and got the both of you up, "Thank you Pierre, for staying with me. I know you didn't have to do that but that was very kind of you", the man smiling soflty at you, "for you, I'll do whatever I need to prove to you I'm serious with this", he said as his other hand gestured to the area between your bodies.

.

You were sitting in the factory's meal area for your (very late) lunch break when you heard someone get inside the room, "I'm sure that it is lunchtime somewhere in the world", Pyry said as he walked inside, noticing Pierre was right behind him, grabbing some food for themselves and sitting next to you, "touché, hm?", you replied back. Chuckling, the personal trainer started digging in his food, while Pierre did the same with his, "In my defense, I was up late last night so I got in later this morning and I was only hungry for lunch now", you replied. Engaging in light conversation about the upcoming weekend, Pyry had to take a phonecall outside, leaving you and Pierre alone in the table, "By the way you have been declining my invites, I'm going to count this as a date", he said as he took a sip of his water. Earning you a eyeroll, Pierre forwarded, "what is it going to take for you to finally say yes?", he tempted you, and how would you argue now? He had been amazing those last two weeks, he was asking if you were okay just the right amount of times, taking some of his day to talk to you and help in anything he could (albeit not much because his skills go beyond bookings and shipping managements) and overall just being a nice company. "What about tomorrow afternoon? I'm free then", you said, surprising him with a bolder than usual move from your part, "really?", he couldn't hide the surprise on his face, "surprise me, Gasly", you winked before you left.

.

"So we're going to the lake?", you asked, holding Pierre's hand since you had left his car and he grabbed it while you walked a bit further so you could get ice-cream together, "I figured you wouldn't be swept away by fancy dinners and you always mention this lake near your grandparent's house so I assumed you would like it here", he smiled. After getting you both ice-cream, the driver led you both to one of the bench by the lake, the little duckies and their mama duck giving the whole scene a calming and comforting aura, "How do you deal with it all?", you asked, "The distance I mean", specifying what you were talking about, "it gets a little bit easier when you start feeling comfortable with it, comfortable-ish anyway. But it takes a lot to get to that point, it did to me at least. Switching teams and everything is always challenging but along the way you find people who can make it feel like home to you", he smiled, latching your hand back in his as he rubbed his thumb over your skin.

.

You were sat in the hotel room's balcony late that night, looking at the stars while you tried to make sense of your thoughts and feelings. Your family had visited today and despite being hard to say goodbye to them, you felt recharged in spite of the feelings of longing in your body. You really liked Pierre, and you had to admit his latest actions had swept you off of your feet, but at what cost? One day he might just figure that the life you lead, despite being somewhat similar to his, it would never work and you'd be giving yourself to someone who would ditch you again.

You had a good voice for singing, and although you never wanted to do anything with it, music always helped you manage your feelings and so, assuming no one would hear you, you sang soflty and quietly to the setting sun.

Take me home

I sometimes wonder what I'm doing here

It's been a long time since I've been lost

I don't know myself as well as I thought

Take me home

And let them finish the party

Kiss my face, my hands, my forehead

Let me see if the world comes crashing down

Take me home

Let's walk through this city

And see that home is a person

And that we both fit there

"Don't get scared, but I had my window open and I couldn't sleep so I came to see whose beautiful voice was that", you heard a French accented voice say from the balcony next to yours, Pierre's bed head popping over the glass door that separated the areas, "May I?", he asked, his hand already on the handle that allowed to transform the balconies into a connecting one, grabbing his chair and sitting next to you, "you have a very beautiful voice, why did I not know that?", he started. Looking at him to see his eyes glued to yours, you sighed, "thank you. I know I have been a bit harsh with you", you said, earning a genuine confused look on his face, "How come?", leaving you to smile slightly, "I have been setting my foot down, and not let you in. And maybe it's stupid, maybe it's everything coming at me all at once, but I can't loose a friendship like yours and I can't risk it if it's not for sure", you explained, Pierre's face showing he was now understanding where you were going. Thinking it was nor or never, he grabbed your hand in his, "At first, I just wanted to get to know who the new girl was but you quickly turned my world upside down. And it's hard for you not having a ground yet, but I'll allow you to build a roof over my heart, I've allowed it already", he chuckled, "I know you don't think this has what it takes to go forward but I'll show you if you'll allow me". Getting closer to him, his hand grabbed your cheek while you looked at eachother's lips, flickering to the eyes before you leaned in, lips finally crashing together, "let me make a home for you, be a home for you", he whispered before kissing your cheek, your hands and your forehead, the happy sigh you released informing him you were just enjoying this as much as he was.

[diabolicalcunt]

I feel the need to pin this cause I’ve always been notorious for people loving me when they first meet me, and then finding out that my political views are not extremely liberal. So here’s all the reasons you will hate me once you get to know me. Or not. I honestly don’t care I’m just sick of the ‘You aren’t who I made you out be in my head!’ conversations.

So my unpopular opinions in no order-

1. They/them is something that’s being encouraged by big brother to see yourself as non or less human.

2. DID isn’t real and you just disassociate a specific way. I look like I’ve been drugged cause I fall down ‘inside’ myself like a well and have no reaction time and can barely speak. I’m like a sloth. You pretend to be a anime character. It’s just coping.

3. The concept of trans genocide is fear mongering by big brother and means to keep boundaries between social groups.

4. To build off 3, the push to medically transition underage children is a move by big pharmaceutical companies to create a permanent customer. Because whether you decide to stay transitioned or de transition, you’re going to be on medication for the rest of your life whether you like it or not. There’s also the whole issue with child exploitation. You’ll be judgmental against Dance Moms, but you won’t say anything about a mom who transitioned her child when they were two years old and made them a social media star.

5. Trans men and women who have been charged with a crime belong in LGBT prison wings. Because we have created a culture where male rapists can put on its dress and be rewarded with a permanent stay in the hen house where they can victimize more women and the system will just cry transphobia and call the victims liars. You got a problem with that? I have never seen a trans man pushing to get put in men’s prison. I wonder why… 😐

6. Blair White is queen.

7. I will fight Henry Cavill on sight. I don’t give a shit how bad you want motorboat him. He’s a fucking pedophile.

8. Same goes for David Bowie. When I get to the afterlife I’m gonna make him wish he could die again. Ask me if you want my full on sight list. 😂

9. I stand with Palestine. Yes I think Islam is a horrible religion that is anti woman. I still don’t think kids should die for the grievances of adults and I think it’s fucked up Israel is doing the same shit Nazis did to them and expect us to nod and smile!

10. Qu**r is just as much of a slur as f*g*t or n*gg*r. I don’t use it and if you do I will block you no questions asked. Say gay! Say lesbian! Say…bisexual! 😱

11. Butch women are valid as fuck and I adore y’all . They aren’t trans men, fuck your lesbian phobia.

12. To build off 11, the new LGBT movement has been infected by woke homophobia and the new trans movement is nothing but conversion therapy in a mask.

13 . Radical feminists are women’s last hope.

14. Marvel movies always sucked, we were just kids and ate up the pretty colors.

15. Dune is a white male savior story.

16. Your fave is not autistic, trans, gay or whatever. You just need validation cause you have no confidence.

17. The Boys should have never cast Jensen Ackles and the Supernatural fandom needs psychological help.

18. Too many of y’all try to primp and posture as the gods of your fandom and yes I say that as someone who did the same and stepped away when I realized how cringe I was. Lording over autistic adults and actual children is pathetic. Get therapy and a real hobby.

19. While gender neutral fanfiction has its place. The trend that all fanfiction needs to be gender neutral is literally killing the creativity and frankly the spice to fanfiction. I hate this trend where piece of media needs to be sterilized so it can be consumed by anyone, even people just passing by. It goes against the concept of creating at its core. Sometimes things are made for specific groups. Sometimes it’s made just for you. The things you create do not need to be sanitized to the point there’s no substance, just a hollow consumption. Think of it this way. Would you rather have a hot pizza of your preference or would you prefer to just drink a bowl of water because someone on the other side of the world might not like pizza?

20. The WWE Divas belt was iconic. I get the whole take women wrestlers seriously movement and I agree! But god damn it, it’s a Bratz belt!!! Gimme!!!!!

21. I fucking HATE koalas. They literally only exist because humans have dumped millions of dollars and keeping them alive. If natural selection were allowed to take his course, they would’ve died off 100 years ago. The food they consume has so little nutrition that they have evolved to have the smallest brain to cranium capacity of any animal to create a built in helmet!! Why? Cause they are so stupid they literally fall out of trees and drop their infants!!! They shit on their young and have permanent diarrhea due to the 0 nutrition thing. They carry chlamydia. They’re so fucking stupid they can’t fuck and have to be artificially inseminated to continue the population. If I couldn’t get laid on my own, the government would not drop millions of dollars into making sure I do!! So why did koalas get it? Literally a waste of resources that could be going to feed thousands of hungry children and instead we’re keeping a fucking retarded (I’m on the spectrum fuck you) animal alive who should have gone extinct hundreds of years ago cause it’s supposedly ‘cute’!! God! I hate koalas!

[avaritia-cognitionis]

Christmas Headcanons - Tf2

Don't worry, there's more to come. I just want to post this before Christmas. This list will be updated soon, Don't worry (:

Most mercenaries will either give a genuinely thoughtful gift, one to show that no matter how many tough times there are, they still care about them... Or it's the most traumatizing shit ever, intentionally or not. Some land in the middle, sure, but they probably swing one way over the other.

Scout and Engineer will secretly get up early in December to put up the tree and decorate it. Scout was invited once during his first years as a mercenary, and now helps do it every year. He always helped do it with his mom, and it gives him a sense of that childlike innocence he 'lost' a long time ago.

The Elf on the shelf they had was kept in storage until the first of December, and then it was let free to do as it pleases...For you see, Merasmus had cursed it and now it has a conscience until Christmas day. Honestly no one knows how it gets out every year. ( It was Pyro's doing.) But Medic's the one to always lock it back up. Eventually, they just made Sniper throw it in a river and calld it a day. Hasn't come back since, so they assume the issue has been dealt with.

Spy tries and stays locked up in his room for the duration of the holidays, but the rest of the team always breaks down the door to get him out. Spy hates having to pay for new doors.

Demoman, Sniper, and Engineer always try and play a few Christmas jingles every year. If they already did all the good songs last year, Demo will just get drunk, make up new songs on the spot, write them down, and use them next year. The problem is they don't write down any of the notes, only lyrics, some words are smudged due to booze, and it's barely legible. But they try and come up with something, and no matter how bad the results are from the last year they enjoy themselves.

Mistletoe, no matter where it is, will always be burned down by Pyro. Someone could be holding it and Pyro would just take out a match, light it and just set it ablaze.

Christmas movies are played constantly, as Pyro sits as close to the TV as possible, and Scout just tries to get even a slight glimpse of what's playing. Some of the things that play are 'Somewhere in Dreamland', 'The night before Christmas', and 'Christmas comes but Once a Year'. Before Scout could rebel and push him out of the way, Heavy not so subtly reminds him of Pyro's abilities. Besides, it keeps him from burning down the tree to watch a shiny object get even shinier.

Scout watches these with him not only to make sure Pyro doesn't get bored, but he also finds animation pretty cool. It makes him see 'how much cooler his art style is'....But no, he isn't crying, you're stupid.

Spy is the one who does all the Christmas shopping. They all just hand him a list and he supplies. Nobody knows where he gets any of it. But each and every request (within reason) is met. Meaning that soldier never gets anything off of his list. Instead, they just get him an American flag and other such patriotic frivolous items.

Heavy's tolerance for the others antics surprisingly increases, as it reminds him of how his younger siblings were around this time of year. Spy...It cannot be said the same for, the Christmas spirit has not affected him, and he grows more pissed each minute. He just sort of tries to manage through the year, but all he thinks about are less christmas-y and more gorey.

[chipped-chimera]

Ugh ... I am low-key so worried about how the BG3 ending is gonna play out for Karlach that I'm considering stopping playing and just coming back to it when I can handle it. Some of this shit is just hitting too close to home and I'm not sure I'm cut out for it.

More personal context under the cut if you want.

I relate to Karlach's pain so much. Too much. To the point it makes me teary thinking about it. Both of our lives have been cruel.

It has been hard for me, despite a stable family upbringing that most would envy, in a lower-middle class family that for the large part has been financially stable. I'm also white. I know I'm lucky in that capacity - god I fucking know (and the thought that what I've gone through could be considered a 'lucky' position? What does that mean for others? It keeps me up at night).

But that didn't stop the pain crawling in. I wasn't diagnosed with Autism until 27. I wasn't diagnosed with co-morbid ADHD until I was 28. I wasn't medicated for ADHD until I was 30 (and that was AFTER being told by a psych who also invalidated my Autism diagnosis aka the context for fucking EVERYTHING in my life, I couldn't have ADHD because I could 'read a book').

Before that? I knew I was depressed at 13, but didn't want to burden my family so I did nothing - we may be lower middle class and stable but I knew that was only because my parents tried so fucking hard. We had camping chairs in place of furniture up until I was eight. I lived with the pain because I didn't want to burden them, and without the context of my neurodivergence I just blamed myself for the problem, not being good enough, not trying hard enough - not being ENOUGH. I held onto it until I cracked and couldn't take it anymore at 16. I was diagnosed with Depression and Generalised Anxiety Disorder. It's since been upgraded to chronic Major Depression and it's classed as treatment resistant.

Both of us have had moments of building ourselves up from nothing. Through therapy and medication I was able to feel a bit better, more positive as I left high school. Thinking maybe it was gonna be okay after all, out there in the world.

It felt like I'd slowly reached out into the light, tentatively, hopefully - there'd be something more, that I'd live out the dreams I'd had, the things I'd always wanted to do. I was still optimistic.

Instead it felt like that arm had been immediately lopped off.

The story is long and too complicated to tell without this being longer than it needs to be. But like Karlach, I feel I've lost years of my life. Like Karlach, it's been a decade - ten years. That I cannot get back, that I grieve keenly.

I have been isolated, and then betrayed by those I thought I trusted. First, by the systems that were supposed to help me when I was struggling - my own government's system as they hit me with a debt that I couldn't even pay, on a scheme which has in retrospect been found to be completely illegal, but has left me with lasting trauma and damage and no closure. Not even a sorry. Because I, with my undiagnosed Autism and ADHD and a growing fatigue issue where I was so exhausted from simply being alive I just couldn't fight it. So I let them take money out of my social security payment - which was and still is considered below the poverty line. I was punished for being poor, I was punished for arguably, being disabled.

And then, by the person I trusted most. The person I thought I loved, the person who made it felt like everything was okay - I may be struggling still but there was still a future! There was someone who cared about me, who would be beside me for the rest of my lifetime. He asked me to marry him. We were engaged for three. Years. We'd been dating for 10. I thought everything, despite all the shit happening to me, was going to be okay.

It wasn't.

I had landed some employment for the first time in 3 years. I was working more hours than advised by the psychologist who diagnosed me with Autism but I had no choice - I was literally on the minimum limit available to me, due to the barriers I still have to navigate to qualify for disability supports (again, from a government system that I no longer trusted and gave me the earnest impression that they preferred me dead than 'leeching off their system'). But I was not living. I couldn't handle even 15 hours a week, I was more exhausted than I'd ever been. I felt like a corpse. I spoke with my disability employment coordinator (no, despite what I said, being on disability EMPLOYMENT services does not qualify you getting onto disability support, just means the government will only hound me for a minimum of 15 hrs a week instead of 30 in order for social security, that's a whole other complicated thing) IN CONFIDENCE that I wasn't sure I could keep up with the current work format and hoped I could discuss some solutions. Next minute I find I'm locked out of the work facebook. I was fired, without warning and without protections because I was a casual. Because my employment coordinator told my boss before even discussing anything with me.

My relationship was suffering but I wasn't aware. I was too tired for intimacy, and probably two tired to see the signs. I'd gotten my Autism diagnosis at this point and maybe it was a bit difficult for my fiancée at the time to understand, but he came to terms with it. The ADHD assessment was booked. I had realized at this point pushing myself to be something I wasn't, thinking somehow landing work and earning money for myself would help the depression - it didn't. I was worse than I'd ever been. Then the moment came where I was handed a notice that the government would no longer give me any social security because my partner, on his meager chef's salary was earning too much. All because I'd tried to do the right thing by the government. I'd tried so hard to be good. I'd tried so hard to be ENOUGH.

I wasn't enough.

My fiancée came to me, my fiancée who I'd been talking to about our upcoming wedding plans now the pandemic was over, my fiancée who I'd been cuddling with on the couch last night watching films - he came to me when I was battered, and raw and broken and crying in bed - just said 'I can't do this anymore.' And that was it. It was done. As I processed it, I realised the root of it was, it was because I'd taken the mask off. I decided I wasn't going to try to be something I wasn't anymore, because I knew and it was backed up in countless studies - what I was doing was actively killing me. And he didn't want to deal with that. I wasn't enough, and yet I was too much.

It has been two years since then. My ADHD is medicated. I live in a stable, safe environment with my parents where I don't have to worry about my security. I have set firm boundaries that I learned while I was independent, and they respect them. But the wounds are still deep and it'll take a long time to recover, to get that trust in the world back.

When I look at Karlach, I see some of myself. Someone who has been used, abused and betrayed by those they trusted. Someone who felt abandoned by everything, that there was no hope, no way out. And yet in spite of it all - kept going. Who, deep in their heart kept something soft and safe. Held onto and protected what little shred of optimism left. Because if we don't practice kindness, who will? We want to be the kindness we want to see in the world, because fuck, have we seen so little of it. It is so easy to give up, to fall into despair when you've been through so much shit. It requires so much vigilance and energy and momentum to keep going, when you're wading through a battlefield of carnage and gore in your life, whether metaphorical or literal. We hold on and we are kind because we hope, one day, that kindness will touch us back. That despite it all we try our fucking hardest to wear a smile, and see the good in everything we can.

And I think that's why it hurts so much. Karlach is finally free. And happy. She feels loved. She's finally feeling some of that kindness again kindness that I know, that she knows she fucking deserves. And it's on a fucking time limit.

And that's what's fucking breaking me. I know she's supposed to be some kind of allegory for terminal illness. And I know this isn't my story. I know it's a story that is important to tell, and it will touch others in a different way. But for me it feels like all the wounds I've barely scabbed over are being ripped open again. Because this is not an ending she deserves at all. It makes me sit and wonder, is that all there is for people like us? Just brief windows of happiness in the pain until we die? Don't we deserve saving? Don't we deserve a happy ending? A peaceful one? Don't we deserve to wear that smile, that happiness without us having to fight for every second it with tooth and nail to keep it there? To believe in it?

I don't know the endings in detail for her. But i have seen enough in the vaguest sense to feel it won't be good, and I don't know if I'm ready for that. I have played games with sad themes, like I know Cyberpunk isn't that great either - but I think the difference is who it is happening to. It's somehow easier when it's you, as the player. But when it's someone else? When you know that pain so fucking keenly you would rip yourself apart just to let them escape that hell, it's hard to stomach.

Then there's the disability angle that bothers me so much. Currently her options, as she puts it, are burning up and dying or going back to Avernus. I understand why she's choosing death, like, fuck man I do. Why is it always death though? Why is death better. Why can't she get a replacement heart? Make it shit! It can be a shitty heart that still works, but needs tune ups, and maybe she can't fight like she used to but she gets to fucking live a happy life! Because a shitty, happy life is better than nothing at all. Because as it goes, it feels to me I'm just being told it's easier to just die than submit to the suffering again whenever a piece of media picks an end like this. It's either the cure-all or death, there's never room for something in between. There's never room for making peace with what you have lost and still reclaiming some of your life, grieving what you have lost but still finding something worth having and holding onto. And when you're in that limbo state yourself, it's a hard pill to swallow. And it's hard to let anyone else fall into it.

We both deserve life. We both deserve happiness.

Fuck.