#my left side is mobile and weak

[curiosity-killed]

At this point, I think my mobility was determined by someone throwing darts at a anatomy diagram

[axolotlwrites]

Transference (And It's Unique Applications) [NSFW]

GN!Drifter!Reader x Amir Beckett (NSFW, again.)

"His body slumps against the couch. His head moves, eyes narrowing in worry. “Drifter? Are you in there?” His hand moves without input, a cheeky thumbs up. “Mhm. Just getting used to it, puppy.” At that, he whines. He's weak to pet names like that."

Good to be back, even better to be writing more Warframe.

CW: Possession (sorta), handjob, reader's genitals nor pronouns are mentioned, cumplay, slight orgasm denial, formatted for mobile, so might be weird, and not beta read lol

“Are you sure about this, Amir?” Your voice was soft against his neck, a hand gently stroking his chest as you were cradled up in his lap. “I know you want to get some tension out, but we could always do it the old-fashioned way.”

His fingers rapped against your sides, as his leg rapidly shook, up and down, up and down. “I know, b-but I need that comfort. I need to feel you. Like you, you, you know?”

You nodded, hand settling against his cheek. “I get you. But once we start, I’ll have almost full control of your body. Every aching muscle, every anxious joint.” You guided his face, focusing his gaze on your eyes. “That's a lot of power over you. And I'm glad you trust me with it, but are you sure that is really what you want right now?”

He nodded again, hastily. A flash of irritation crosses his face, eyes clenched. “I know what I want. Just… please.”

Sol, he looked like he was hurting. The anxiety that filled him, sat in his chest like an anvil, weighing his heart and lungs down, barely letting him breathe. You leaned in, lips just barely apart from his. “Safeword?” You whisper, breath running along his lips. “On-lyne!” He smiles, just a little bubbly.

You nod, gently pressing your lips to his… before disappearing into thin air. In the millisecond between the dissipation of your body, and the twitch that runs along his brain, there's an intangible silence… and a whisper.

His body slumps against the couch. His head moves, eyes narrowing in worry. “Drifter? Are you in there?” His hand moves without input, a cheeky thumbs up. “Mhm. Just getting used to it, puppy.” At that, he whines. He's weak to pet names like that.

You gently take stock if his body, back arching as you stretch and stand, before gently leaning back on the couch. “Would you like a specific position for this, Amir? Laying, sitting, legs in the air and violently shaking?” You giggled, in the back of his mind. He smiles, nerves starting to abade, as though your voice surrounds him in warmth. “Up to you, future. Just… do this quick, okay? That's how… how I always do it.”

At that, he feels an involuntary frown come up on his face. You didn't like that, didn't like that at all. Then, like a voice in the back of his head, you spoke. “I'm gonna take my time with you, Amir. I know I joked about wanting to make love at nine thousand miles per hour, but… not right now. You gotta take it slow for me.”

Slowly, you reach out with one hand, taking the zipper of the glove into it, and peeling the glove off in full. You do the same with the other, as you gently rub Amir's hands on his thighs, getting the feel for the dual sensation.

You can feel the muscles ache in his body, the involuntary twitching lighting his body on fire. You could feel his impatience, his little despair at the thought of having to take it slow, but you could just as easily feel the ache in his loins. Your loins. You stopped for a second to parse the exact phrasing you would use for this, and he whined. “Please, Drifter. I'm… I'm desperate here.”

A sigh left his mouth, a distinct sense of mischief crossing his mind. That was a very bad idea, he thought. “Very bad indeed,” you replied. “Beg for me. Beg me to touch you, Amir.” You scooted his body back up onto the couch, using his hands to slowly, painfully, pull down his… pants, for lack of a better term. As soon as you moved his pants down far enough, his cock sprung from its cage, dribbling softly.

“There you are…” you whispered, cradling his mind like you were whispering in his ear. “There's the tool I was looking for. Delicious, as usual. It's a shame though, that I won't be getting to play with it.” You forced him to stare at his own cock, twitching and drooling. His head fell back, body arching slightly, as if squirming in pain. “Not unless you beg like I know you can.”

His teeth ground against each other, as he tried to stop himself, but it all came tumbling out. “PleaseIneedyoutogetmeoffpleasepleaseplease-” Suddenly, his mouth shut closed, his voice muffled, akin to clamping your hand over his mouth. He didn't understand. He was doing what you asked. Wasn't that enough?

“Cohesive, Amir. Say it slowly. I know what you're saying. But I want you to say it.” Tears stung at his eyes, as his jaw finally relaxed, a small exhale leaving from the bottom of his throat as he spoke again. Slow. Steady. Measured. “Please. I just… I need you to touch me, make me touch myself. Whatever. I can't handle this torture…”

He was so busy regaining his composure, controlling his breathing… he was almost surprised by the feeling of his hand wrapping around his cock, and slowly beginning to stroke. It twitched in his grasp, the muscles of a phantom gently moving under his skin.

“There we go. Does that feel better, dear? That feel good?” He nodded violently, his head leaning back once more, as your combined efforts tangled under his fingers.

You set the pace, but it was his hand that moved.

He whimpered, stroking slowly from base to tip. A little nudging, and his thumb rubbed on the underside of his head, teasing at the frenulum. “Nice and steady,” you whispered, the ghost of a hand running across his chest sending a shiver down his skin, “it feels so much better, doesn't it? The teasing, the aching… the throbbing.”

Amir tries his best not to moan, but nothing stops you from making him open his mouth, letting all the sounds spill out from his soul. “So loud… you think Eleanor can hear you? Arthur, Lettie? Quincy? They might be hearing you, letting me pilot your body, jerking you to completion…”

Amir's head lolls down, glasses gently falling off from his face, and onto the cushion. A hand glides into his hair, guided by invisible muscle, as it grips the scalp. Moans slip from his mouth like honey, spilling out into the air. A phantom echo of pleasure rips across his body, as his hand is allowed to move just a bit faster.

“There we go. Just a bit more. Come on…” The pleasure is almost too much for him. This was an experience, unique, one of a kind. And it was all for him. The hand stroked faster. It was at a pace he was used to, but at an intensity he couldn't even fathom.

He felt so warm. Like your body was wrapped around his. Like you weren't next to him, or inside of him, but all around him in one big hug.

Amir's back began to arch, his hips rising into the air, as his hand was allowed to move even faster. You whispered in his mind, sweet affirmations, how good he was, how obedient… quickly bringing him to the edge of climax.

As he shivered on the edge of climax, mind racing and breaking under your guidance… he suddenly felt cold. Very cold. Before a second hand wrapped around his cock.

You sat on your knees in front of him, jerking him off, your lips against his cock as you pressed kisses to his tip. Even more so arousing was his glasses, perched on your nose, enclosing your eyes.

“Cum, Amir. Cum on my face. Don't hold back… let all that build-up finally come out.” You spoke softly, barely a word out of breath or out of line. Calm. Collected. Loving. “Cum.”

And that he did. He spilled ropes of seed onto your face, plastering not just his glasses, but your entire face in his load. It spilled from his cock like a tap, as he arched and moaned and whined so prettily for you.

Finally, as his load dribbled from his cock, barely dripping from the slit, you stood. He didn't even have the energy to look at you, exhaustion taking him. He almost didn't notice, as you leaned in, pressing his cum-covered glasses back onto his nose and leaving a soft kiss on his cheek.

“I'm gonna go get cleaned up, Amir. You know where to find me.” And at that, like it was nothing at all… you walked away. He chuckled softly, nuzzling in the towel that had materialized next to him.

Transference was fun.

[tortillamastersblog]

♕ No Matter What - Part 16 | Lena Luthor ♕

Pairing: Lena Luthor x reader

Warnings: mentions of injuries and slight angst

Summary: Lena is still a no-show. . .

Previous Part | Next Part | Masterlist

________________________________________________

“Good, you’re doing great. Just one more step,” Dr. Mike encourages, holding my left hand as I walk on unstable legs.

My right hand is wrapped so tightly around the bar mounted to the wall that my knuckles have turned white.

I take the last step before lowering myself into the waiting wheelchair. My hands are shaking and I’m breathing heavily as Doctor Mike crouches down by my side with a beaming smile.

“That was amazing, Y/N,” he says. “If you keep working hard and doing your exercises you’ll be almost as good as new in no time.”

I try my best to smile, but even without the pitiful look on Doctor Mike’s face that follows it I know it wasn’t very convincing.

Ever since we dialed back my pain meds my entire left leg has been tingling and is weak. Sometimes it feels like an electric shock runs through it, all the way from my hip and down to my toes, and Doctor Mike says that even though the weakness will get better, the nerve pain will never truly go away.

Yes, it will also get better, but I won’t ever have physiological sensibility and mobility again.

“Why don’t we get you back to your room, you look tired,” he states rather than asks when I don’t comment on anything that he’s said.

I mumble please and hang my head low when he begins pushing me out of the pt room and back to my own room.

It’s been almost three weeks since what happened and I’ve honestly never felt this empty.

Don’t get me wrong, I was absolutely crushed and numb after Noah was killed, but now there’s just so many things weighing me down that I don’t know if I’ll ever come out on the other side of things again.

To start things off, I’m constantly having nightmares about what happened with Lex. They’re mostly about what actually happened but sometimes they’re also about Lena, Sam, or Ruby getting shot.

Then there’s the whole situation with my dad. He hasn’t visited me since that one time where he tried to apologize, and I’ve been racking my brain ever since if I have it in my heart to forgive him.

There’s also the nerve damage on my lower spine which turned out to be worse than expected. I’m not paralyzed — something I apparently came very close to— but my left leg is basically useless at the moment and the constant physical therapy is painful and exhausting.

And to top it all off, Lena hasn’t visited me even once since I got here. I also can’t get ahold of her on my phone because Lex destroyed it and I have yet to get a new one.

No one’s heard from her. The news outlets are dying for a comment from her about Lex’s and all her friends — Sam obviously included— can’t reach her either.

She’s not at home, apparently, which worries me, but it’s not like I can just walk out of this hospital and go look for her myself.

The only thing that gives me a little peace of mind is the fact that she texted Sam the day I was shot that she had to deal with some stuff and that she wouldn’t be available for some time.

When I first heard about it I was very worried because I know she blames herself for what happened, but then as time went on, I started to hate her for abandoning me.

Now, though, I’m just sad and dejected.

Do I really mean that little to her? I mean, even if she does blame herself, I thought her worry would outweigh her guilt eventually and she’d visit me, but apparently not. . .

Doctor Mike drops me off in my room, making sure I’m comfortable in the bed before leaving with an encouraging smile.

I sigh and close my eyes, only to open them again a couple minutes later when Sam and Ruby stop by.

They’ve been visiting me every day and even though I’m absolutely miserable and can’t wait to get out of here, they’ve been a reliable support system and always managed to cheer me up, even if it’s just a tiny bit.

Sam kisses my cheek in greeting and Ruby hugs me before pulling a deck of UNO cards out of her mom’s purse.

“Can we play?” she asks with a hopeful grin and I pat the space on the bed next to me with a nod.

We’ve been playing this game for a week now and at first ai thought I’d get tired of it, but that has yet to happen. I love playing with the two of them, especially when Ruby giggles after putting down a draw four card.

“Of course, c’mere.”

Sam takes a seat on the chair next to the bed while Ruby settles in next to me. She shuffles the cards and hands them out as Sam tells me about her day at the office.

“. . . and then Marcus has the nerve to burst right into my office,” Sam concludes once Ruby has passed out enough cards. “Can you believe that?!”

I chuckle and shake my head, sorting my cards and fanning them out in my left hand. “I honestly don’t know why you haven’t fired him yet.”

Sam huffs and puts down the first card, a red four. “Yeah, me neither.”

We play a couple of rounds, chatting about God knows what until Ruby decides she’s had enough and that she wants a hot chocolate from the hospital’s cafeteria.

Sam hands her some cash and we both watch her leave before Sam turns back to me with a serious expression.

“Okay, out with it,” she says, moving her chair closer to the bed. “You’ve been awfully quiet lately and I know it’s not just because of Lena.”

Immediately my eyes start stinging with tears and I gulp, trying to force them away. When Sam grabs my hand and squeezes it however, there’s no stopping them anymore and within seconds my cheeks are wet and my chin is wobbling.

“I just— I can’t anymore, Sam,” I admit with a hiccup. “I’m exhausted and-and everything around me reminds me of everything bad that’s ever happened to me.”

I use my free hand to wipe away my tears, but it’s of no use because they just keep coming and there’s nothing I can do about it as everything I’ve been holding back for almost three weeks now bubbles out of me.

“I can’t stand walking past Noah’s favorite coffee shop every morning. I hate seeing my dad’s favorite local beer in bars and I hate all the reporters outside the hospital just waiting for me to talk about Lex,” I whisper, not daring to look at Sam. “It’s too much. . .”

It’s silent for a moment until Sam’s soft touch on my cheek makes my breath hitch. She uses her free hand to wipe away some more of my tears and when I look up to meet her eyes all I can see is sympathy and understanding.

“It’s okay, Y/N,” she says quietly. “I understand what you mean and I think it’s high time you got away from all of this for a while.”

I take a shuddering breath and squeeze her hand. “You’re saying I should leave?”

She nods. “Yes. You could travel and explore the world, or you could just move somewhere else for a couple of years, you know?”

I don’t want to travel. I’ve seen enough of the world for now, having been stationed in a couple of countries while I was in the Army.

The thought of moving, however, makes me pause and think for a second.

It would be a great opportunity to start over, start on a blank slate, and if I ever get homesick I can always just move back to National City.

“But what about you and Ruby?“ I ask. I’ve always been there for them and they’ve always been there for me, too. I can’t just leave them behind and start a new life somewhere.

“We’ll be fine,” Sam assures me with a watery smile. “We’ll always stay in touch, but it’s time for you to start living again, Y/N, rather than just existing.”

“Sammy. . .” I trail off, not exactly knowing what to say. I’m overwhelmed by her understanding and her support, but I’m also sad at the prospect of being away from her and Ruby.

“It’s okay,” she says. “You’ll be okay, and Ruby and I will be okay, too.”

I squeeze her hand again and close my eyes for a second, letting what happened just now sink in.

“I love you, Sammy,” I whisper when I open my eyes again.

Sam sniffles and blinks away some of her own tears. “I love you, too.”

I chuckle and press a kiss to her knuckles right as Ruby returns from the cafeteria. She doesn’t notice our tear stained faces and wordlessly joins me on the bed again, sipping hot chocolate from her paper cup.

She starts babbling about her day at school which makes me smile softly. Every so often Sam’s gaze meets mine and the unrelenting understanding in her eyes puts my mind at ease.

I’m going to be okay, I think, but the question of Lena’s whereabouts and what she’s up to still gnaws at the back of my mind.

It’s been a week since I decided to move and an old friend of Sam’s told her about an apartment he’s just finished remodeling in Metropolis that I can move into at any time.

It’s a big step, moving to the other end of the country, but it will give me the space I so desperately need.

I was released from the hospital two days ago and have since been packing most of my stuff and getting my affairs in order.

I have to take it easy because I’m still recovering, which is why I’m only packing light things like clothes. The rest will be taken care of by a moving company that I’ve hired to start tomorrow.

My left leg is still weak and tingles, but the shooting pains have stopped and all my other injuries have healed nicely.

I have to use a crutch for the time being because I’m still a little unstable on my feet, but Doctor Mike told me that I won’t be needing it soon enough if I continue to do the exercises the physical therapist showed me.

So far the only people who know that I’m moving are Sam and Harper. The latter found out because she was there when Sam called me about the apartment, but she swore not to tell my parents about it.

We’re almost back to where we were before Noah’s death since she, not unlike Sam and Ruby, also visited me in the hospital daily, but it will still take some time for our friendship to be fully restored.

Now, as for my parents, I’ve decided not to tell them about moving until I’m already settled in Metropolis. If I told them now they’d try to stop me from going because they’re both trying to make things right with me, but I can’t start healing if I don’t get some space.

I’ve come to the conclusion that I will never be able to forgive either of them for what they did to me, especially not my dad, but I can see myself being civil with them in time.

A knock on the door makes me pause and drop the stack of clothes I was just about to put into a box onto the bed.

It’s almost dinner time and Sam was planning on coming over with some pizza, so I think nothing of it when I open the door with a lazy smile, but then I freeze when my eyes land on the one person I’ve been yearning to see for almost a month now.

“Lena,” I whisper, taking in her red nose and the snowflakes in her dark hair.

“Hi.” Her voice is just as quiet as mine, if not even quieter, and when her green eyes meet mine in silent question, I step aside and let her into the apartment.

________________________________________________

I’m sorry it’s a bit short, but the next part (probably the final part) will definitely be longer.

*Not proofread yet

Tag list: @nerethos @orange15quote @nuianced-tck-enby @autorasexy @unexpected-character @nothisismax @wandatasha @likeornella @rosea-reginae @aca-biitch @jujuu23

[charliegyrth]

Fat Camp Reunion - Part 2

Jacob's Incredible Story

Read Part 1 here. (So far, Phillip the narrator has gone back to his childhood drama camp to discover that everyone there is now obese. He has no idea why, but he's about to find out thanks to Jacob, his first boyfriend.)

***

I got a little lost on the way to the cabins. The trails were exactly the same, but I was too overloaded with thoughts to pay attention. Finally, I made it to the cabin with a big number 4 on its door.

It looked like all the other cabins, small and wooden with wide windows on either side of the entrance. The only difference (besides the number) was a mobility scooter sitting on the porch. That was my first hint of what I’d see inside.

The door creaked as I pushed it open. I braced myself for what I’d find.

“Phillip!” a familiar voice shouted.

“J-Jacob.” My breath caught in my throat.

I’d seen people this big before. Not in real life, but on those trashy reality shows. My 600-Pound Life or Half-Ton Fiancé or whatever. (I’d never actually watched those shows, of course, but you can’t escape their commercials.)

Jacob sat on one of the cabin’s beds, his massive body filling up most of the mattress. His arms and legs looked useless, covered in Michelin Man rolls. His belly was huge and shapeless, spreading around him in all directions, and his chest (once sporting muscular pecs much nicer than mine) had sprouted drooping sacks of fat with fist-sized nipples that were more-than-visible under the thin fabric of his food-stained shirt.

I thought the other guys were huge, but Jacob outweighed all of them by at least a hundred pounds. Could he even walk anymore? He must be able to, since his mobility scooter was parked outside. He must’ve been able to make the ten trudging steps from the door to the bed.

I was horrified. And sad. I felt so, so sad for him. I might’ve elevated my memories of him in my brain, but he used to be the most handsome, the most naturally athletic man I’d ever known. Now, he was buried.

And the saddest part was that, despite how soft and weak his body was, his face was still recognizably Jacob. He had a new slab of flesh under his jaw, but overall, his head didn’t look nearly as fat as the rest of him. (And he still had the same adorable blond curls.)

I think that made everything worse. If his face had been as unrecognizable as his body, then maybe I could handle what he’d become. Instead, all I saw was my first love, my beautiful Jacob, trapped in fat.

“Sit with me,” he said in his familiar voice. “We have a lot of catching up to do.”

I didn’t want to sit with him. I didn’t want to touch him, because that would only make all of this real. And even if I wanted to, there wasn’t any space left on the mattress.

I remained standing in the middle of the cabin. “Jacob, what happened to you?”

“I grew.”

That answer made me gulp.

“Please sit,” he tried again. “I’ll tell you everything.”

Slowly, I approached him. I looked into his eyes, seeing the same wide-open, trusting expression that I’d falling in love with all those years ago, and I sat next to him. I couldn’t avoid feeling his side-fat. He felt so warm.

Neither of us said anything for a long time. It was awkward.

Finally, Jacob spoke. “You look great. It’s been a while since I’ve seen someone your size.”

“What do you mean?”

He didn’t answer. “Can I… feel you?”

“Okay?”

He raised his hand to my chest and slid his sausage fingers across my pec. “Wow. That’s hard.” His voice sounded intrigued, as if he couldn’t even remember when he had muscles just like these.

“Thank you.”

He felt my stomach next, tracing his fingers between my (very slight) abs. “Huh,” he said, like he was studying me.

“Please tell me what’s going on,” I said.

Jacob took a deep breath and then (finally!) he gave me some answers. “The year after we went to Sunrise Pines, a new company moved to our town. I don’t know if you’ve ever been to Moulton proper before…”

“I haven’t,” I interrupted him. I’d only been to the camp itself, not the town nearby. When my mom dropped me off here, we didn’t even drive through Moulton. We just took the freeway.

“Well, back then, Moulton was really struggling. It was a mining town, but the mines closed in the 90s and our population started shrinking. And then we got a new factory. Sweet Cheeks Confections. Ever heard of them? They make donuts, snack cakes, a whole bunch of packaged stuff.”

I shook my head.

“Well, they’re great. You’re really missing out.” He placed his hand on my thigh, still curiously feeling my hard muscle as if he’d forgotten what it felt like. “So once the factory opened, a lot of the locals started working there. And our shops were filled with their products. Everyone loved ’em.”

“And that’s why your whole town got fat?” I asked. It seemed crazy that extra snacks on store shelves would lead to such extreme obesity.

“Nope. We got fat because of their advertising campaign.”

“Huh?”

He paused his story. “Um, can you hand me some of those?” He nodded toward a pile of brownie boxes on the dresser next to me. Each one had the bright pink Sweet Cheeks label. I guess I had seen those at 7-Eleven before.

I grabbed a box and handed it to him. More accurately, I placed it on his belly.

He bit his lip, a bit embarrassed. “Um, all of them, please. I haven’t eaten in an hour.”

There were four more boxes on the dresser. I piled them up on his belly while his tore open the first box. I watched as he shoved the first brownie into his mouth, chewed twice, and swallowed. Then he shoved in a second and a third.

“Okay,” he said, the burst of sugar giving him the energy to continue. “So the advertising campaign. Sweet Cheeks wanted to increase its local sales, so they started giving out free samples and hosting eating competitions every weekend. When I first heard about the competitions, I thought they were stupid. But then I learned that Sweet Cheeks would be filming the contestants and using the winners for nationwide commercials. As an actor looking for my big break, I couldn’t pass that up.”

He ate a couple more brownies stacked on top of each other.

“When I signed up for the first one, I was about your size. How much do you weigh? Like 250?”

That number made me choke. “250? I’m… Dude, I’m 170.”

“Oh. Sorry. It’s been so long. I guess I can’t really think in such low numbers anymore.” He glanced down at my torso. “170. Dang. Yeah, I weighed about that much. But I really wanted to win. To get famous or whatever. So I just went for it. Stuffed myself senseless. Beat four other contestants, all much bigger and older than me. It was at our town park. Cameras everywhere. Best feeling of my life.”

“So they put you in their commercials?” I asked. I didn’t remember this at all.

“Sadly, no. They had competitions every weekend. I kept going back. I kept winning. Every time, the Sweet Cheeks reps gave me trophies and made me pose for a bunch of photos. They had me sign contracts so they could use my eating footage for their ads, but those never happened. They went in another direction.” He held up one of the brownie boxes (empty now), tapping his thumb against the smiling cupcake mascot. “They thought that this cartoon guy would sell more.”

“Okay?” I said. I still didn’t understand where this story was going.

“I didn’t get famous,” he said as he opened up the second box, “but I didn’t care anymore. I had attention. You remember what it was like on the stage, watching an audience laugh at your jokes and hang on every word. Well, the crowds at these competitions were like that times 100. Every bite I took was riveting to them. The cheers. The chanting. The fucking signs that they held up. I know it was just in Moulton, but people loved me.”

“For eating brownies?” I asked. I was watching him eat brownies right now. He seemed to shove them in between sentences, so fast that he barely had to stop talking. I didn’t feel like cheering at all. I just felt sad for him.

“For eating everything,” he said. “Every weekend was different. And I don’t know if you knew this about me, but people sort of follow my lead.”

I did know that. Back in camp, everyone wanted to be like Jacob, myself included. He was magnetic.

“So one-by-one, all my friends who were suspicious of Sweet Cheeks eventually gave in. That first eating competition had four people. A month later, we were up to twenty. After that, hundreds. All the guys at Sunrise Pines signed up. People in town made bets. Everyone had their favorite eaters. But I’m proud to say, no one was as skilled as me.”

He placed his second brownie box to the side. He’d eaten that entire thing without me realizing. Now he was onto the third.

“I started gaining weight pretty quickly,” he said. “Muffin top first. Then moobs. I was deeply conflicted about that. I had this really messed up image of what an ideal body type was. No offense.”

I didn’t know how to respond. I’m pretty sure he was telling me that I had an “ideal body type,” which was a compliment. But he said it in such a negative way.

“Had some doubts for a while, but when I walked around Moulton with my new belly on full display, literally everyone who saw me gave me these congratulatory belly pats and gushed about what big fans they were. They saw my gain as this badge of honor, and I started to see it that way, too. So I kept eating and growing. And the rest is history.”

Damn. This entire story was ridiculous. And the casual tone of his voice made everything seem so much more ridiculous.

“Is everyone in Moulton fat?”

He thought for a second. “Yeah. We are. Eating competitions are part of our culture now. Not just the officially sponsored ones—Sweet Cheeks stopped hosting events years ago—but, well, every meal is sort of a competition. You probably noticed that in the canteen.”

I thought back to all my old friends sitting on their fat asses with massive piles of food in front of them. I thought about all the empty plates, too. They weren’t just eating lunch. They were out-eating each other.

It’s crazy that one company’s gimmick had transformed an entire town. And honestly, I know that the effects wouldn’t have been so drastic if Jacob hadn’t been involved. He got sucked into competitive eating, and everyone automatically followed him like they always did.

He threw the third empty box to the side. He had crumbs all down his stained, white shirt, most of them collected in the depression between his overflowing moobs.

“Are you happy?” The words surprised me as they came out of my mouth.

He looked me right in the eyes. “Phillip. I’ve never been happier. Everyone I meet is in awe of me. I’m a star in my own town, and that’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

“But… I mean, can you even do things anymore?” I knew that was an awkward way of phrasing my question, but I had to ask. Aside from shoving things into his mouth, it seemed like all this weight would make most movements difficult.

He half-smiled in a very flirty way. It was the look he used to give me when he took me behind the amphitheater to make out. “I can do plenty of stuff.” Then he chuckled. “Yeah, there are limitations. You’ll probably need to help me get off this bed, for example. But I have my scooter. And I have plenty of fans who’ll do anything for me.”

That last comment filled me with a surprising amount of jealousy, and I didn’t know why.

As he demolished the fourth box, shoving in brownie after brownie in conveyor-belt speed, his eyes remained locked on me. He was studying me, gauging my reactions. If I weren’t here, he’d probably still be eating, but with me sitting next to him, he was using these brownies as some sort of test.

That left me with one question left, probably the most important one. Why had he invited me here? I mean, he’d sent me a personalized invitation. He’d planned this whole reunion, yet he wasn’t even hanging out with our other friends. He was in the cabin. With me. Eating for me. Telling me his story.

Did he expect me to like what he’d become?

What was I supposed to say right now?

The last of the brownies slid down his throat and he let out a deep, contented burp. Didn’t cover his mouth. Still watching me, waiting for a reaction.

My brain was short-circuiting. All I could do was look into his beautiful blue eyes.

His familiar eyes.

His expectant eyes.

His face was still so handsome. And his overflowing body, angled toward me as much as it would allow him… I don’t know, I felt like he was presenting himself to me, showing me the hundreds and hundreds of pounds that he’d built on himself.

What did he want me to do?!

When it was clear that I wasn’t going to say anything (that I literally couldn’t), he finally cut to the chase: “Everyone loves me in Moulton. An entire town either wants me or wants to be like me. It’s amazing. But for a while now, I’ve been thinking about you, about what we used to have. I should be in the canteen right now, showing everyone who’s still the champion. But I choose to be here with you. This is the first meal I’ve skipped in years.”

He didn’t count all those brownies. They were just a snack to him.

“I don’t know what to say.” (That was the understatement of the year.)

He took a deep breath, though it got interrupted by another slight burp. “It’s been a long time since anyone looked at me the way you’re looking at me now. I can tell you’re confused, scared. Maybe disgusted. And that’s okay. But you’ll be here for the weekend, and I just want you to keep an open mind. Can you do that?”

“Okay,” I said, though I still wasn’t sure exactly what he was asking.

“No pressure,” he added, sensing the uncertainty in my voice. “But it would be nice to try a few things. Feedings or whatever. I have a feeling you’ll like ’em.”

Before I said anything else, he slid his massive body toward me and kissed me. His belly flab covered my lap. His thick hands held my face.

I was butter. I melted into him, all the memories from what we once had came rushing back. And somehow, I enjoyed the sensation of his new body squish against me. I was his.

He ended the kiss much too soon, leaving me breathless.

“Knock knock,” someone shouted outside our door.

I instinctively pulled away from Jacob, though I didn’t have a lot of room. The edges of his belly were still resting on my thigh.

“Come in!” he shouted, though he was smiling at me as he said it.

The door creaked open and Eugene walked in first, carrying a tray of lasagna. Then a few more guys came in with equally large trays. Then a few more.

“Room service,” Jacob explained to me. “Told ya I had help.”

Bobby, the last one to enter, brought in a fold-up table that he assembled in front of us. Then everyone set the food on top, like ancient islanders making offerings to their chief.

Jacob was beaming from ear to ear. Despite all the sugar that he’d wolfed down, the sight of this spread caused his stomach to rumble. “Well,” Jacob said to me. “Open mind, right? Wanna help me finish my lunch?”

On one level, I did. For curiosity alone, I wanted to see him in action. But on another level, I really needed to clear my head. “Actually, I’m gonna go for a walk. I’ll, um, be back.”

He didn’t seem disappointed. I appreciated that. “Suit yourself. But if I’m not finished when you get back, you’ll help me, right?”

“Okay.” I hurried out of there. None of the other guys left. They had already finished their lunch, and now they were ready to just sit back and watch.

As I closed the door behind me, I heard slurps and chews. And one guy (Frankie, I think) muttered, “Damn.”

I spent the next fifteen minutes wandering around the camp by myself, recognizing all the old places and enjoying the fresh air. I couldn’t stop thinking about Jacob, though. About our kiss, and the way his belly felt, and the way he made my heart race.

And now I’m back in my car, writing this all down for everyone to read.

I’m so freaking conflicted. For the next two and a half days, I’ll be here. I’ve already decided that I’ll be true to my word. I’ll keep an open mind. And yeah, I’ll partake in the feedings.

What I haven’t decided (and why I’m asking for your help) is whether I’m going to just feed Jacob or whether I’m going to let him feed me too.

I can see myself learning to appreciate his body and maybe help him continue to grow it. I’m definitely open to that. But if he wants to turn the tables and feed me, if he expects me to start catching up to everyone else here, would that be a step too far?

Please. Tell me what to do. Your advice will definitely affect how I spend the rest of the weekend (and maybe the rest of my life, too.)

This weekend, should I feed Jacob or should I allow him to feed me?

To Be Continued...

Hi, everybody! Charlie Gyrth here. I hope you liked the story, but I'm serious about that final question. I'm ready to write a continuation, but I have three possible paths to take and I wanted to see which one would be most interesting:

Phillip becomes a gainer.

Phillip becomes an encourager (and stays slim).

Phillip becomes an encourager (and unintentionally gains weight).

You can vote for your answer here. I set up a poll.

[simphornies]

A/N: Short but you'll see why <3 Loves and kisses!

Word count: 1.1k (1,196) Warnings: blood, everyone's fighting, major injury, alastor being alastor

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4

Deal Breaker [ Vox x Angel!Reader ] part 5

Your ears were ringing, vision blurred. The dust from the rubble got caught in your throat making you cough. Pain was the first thing you felt when your senses came to. As soon as the dust cleared you realized that you’d been entrapped under the rubble, one wrong move and it could all cave in. You looked down and two of your wings were pinned, golden blood oozing from under it.

Charlie was trying to get you out of the rubble, her screams were faintly audible and you heard her digging through. Then it stopped after another loud boom. The pain overpowered your body, you couldn’t yank yourself out without ripping your wings apart. For once in your life, you felt absolutely helpless under the rubble with no way of contacting anybody. You just hoped that the others were okay.

The Vees had come with their army of goons and with the lack of preparation everyone in the hotel had, everyone was in a struggle. Lucifer and Alastor were enraged, their demon forms fully showing. With Alastor’s tendrils and Lucifer’s mobility, they fended off the majority of the attackers. They both aimed for Velvette as soon as they got an opening.

Velvette laughed and wielded an angelic spear, launching it straight at Lucifer. Lucifer got ready to dodge it but Alastor quickly caught it, to his dismay, before it could get too close. “Wrong move.” She grinned.

Lucifer turned quickly and saw that Valentino had a dagger up to Charlie’s neck. His eyes turned red and flew straight at him. “Ah ah.” He menacingly smiled, “Any closer and Little Bleeding Heart will get it.” He cut her neck just enough to make her start bleeding.

He laughed as he saw everyone freeze, “For an establishment filled with such power…” He grinned wider with pride, “You all are so weak.”

They were at a standstill, neither side couldn’t move but it was clear that the Vees had the advantage.

Back at Vox’s security room he sees the commotion at the hotel, his heart dropping as soon as he realizes you weren’t on the field. “Y/N…” He scanned through all the footage and not once did he see you appear. He saw the first attack that made the ceiling fall. He thought of the worst. He knew he wasn’t in good enough physical condition to fight, making him hesitate. He sucked it up and left for the hotel as fast as he could go, traveling through the wires.

“What do you want?” Vaggie screamed, spear pointed at Valentino from a distance.

He laughed, “We want Y/N. To fuck off from you and work for us.” The evil in his grin wasn’t hard to miss.

“Like hell we’d ever hand her over to you, you freaks.” Husk hissed. His statement turned Valentino’s smug grin into a frown.

“Watch it, cat,” He held the blade tighter to Charlie’s neck, “I’ll kill this little bitch right n—”

A punch launched Valentino forward, blade dropping behind him. Lucifer flew to Charlie the moment he saw the opening as she fell to the floor. “Sweetie, are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” She coughed out. “But who-”

Everyone averted their attention to who landed the blow and to their surprise, Vox stood there seething with rage. “What the fuck, Vox?” Velvette screamed. It wasn’t long until she was surrounded by Alastor’s tendrils, all holding weapons. She groaned and crossed her arms, admitting defeat.

“I told you two to not fuck with, Y/N. Her business is with me and I change my mind however much I fucking want.” He angrily spoke, his voice laced with a stereo like effect. His cracked screen had sparks flying out of them, making him glitch every now and then.

The Vees got tied up and monitored by Lucifer while everyone else ran to find you under the rubble. You saw everything that happened thanks to the watch Vox gave you. Since Vox’s screen was cracked, you couldn’t get a hold of him and he was the only person that the watch could connect to. You just hoped everyone wasn’t hurt too bad.

Alastor stayed behind, facing Vox from across the battlefield. He glared at him, his smile becoming more menacing. “Greetings, old pal.” He snarled.

“Alastor.” Vox replied, “Look about Y/N, I’m s-”

“Keep her name-” He grew bigger in size, completely embracing his demon form, “OUT OF YOUR LYING MOUTH.” He hissed and launched his tendrils to attack him. Vox zapped away to dodge the attack, shooting electricity to make them fade away and to maintain his distance from him.

“Alastor! Let me expl-” A tendril managed to uppercut him, knocking him down. Alastor moved closer to him, looming over the injured Vox.

“My presence here in Hell surely stays an enigma. But blatant-” He kicks his side, tossing him a couple of feet. Vox clutched his side, blood dripping from the side of his mouth. “-and deliberate lies!” He stepped on him, savoring the sound of his ribs cracking underneath his shoes. “That damage my relations are where I draw the line.” His uncomfortable grin made Vox glitch out in fear, the sparks that flew out of the crack becoming more frequent. “I’ll make an example out of your wretched decisions to remind everyone not to mess with the Radio Demon.” He lifted his claws and lunged at Vox.

He was too weak to fight back or try to zap away. He knew his systems were in no condition to handle a fight, let alone one with Alastor. He looked up and watched as his claws came closer and closer.

For a moment, he thinks back on you. He remembered every detail he grew to love. He realized that he acted too quickly on his ideas. He remembered how you managed to soften his character, how you smiled whenever he’d give you gifts, how you were the common sense to his rash decisions. He remembered how your laugh would differ depending on the situation and he definitely remembered how it sounded when you were truly happy. He remembered the hospitality you provided him, the second chance you offered despite his reputation and his standing with Alastor. He realized that his pride prevented him from seeing the truth of it all.

He fell in love with you.

And he only came to realize it at the face of death.

He gritted his teeth, pushed his pain to the side and managed to zap away, avoiding Alastor’s claws. This move made him wince in pain. Alastor growled, “Putting up a senseless fight? You might just impress me.” He laughed.

Vox clenched his fists, “I’m not letting you kill me until I get to apologize to her.” He dodged an attack, “And I’m not letting anything stop me from telling her the full truth. And I put that on my soul. But I’m not hurting her more by attacking her friends. Especially you.”

He moved further away, “I surrender.” He raised his hands up in defeat. Alastor simply laughed at him before launching another set of tendrils toward him. Vox shut his eyes and braced for impact.

Taglist: @emekeneme @ghostdoodlen @chewbrry @dawko-fanpage @lofasofabread @hxzbinwrites @rapunzelbro @elsihiaweee @blackrose8425 @dickmastersworld @lofasofabread @rosiethevoxobesser @themetalbabygirl @markster666 @riskyraiker @fadingflowers-world(it won't let me tag the two of you but i'll send them)

[allwaswell16]

[4 pics, 4 quotes, 4 iconic 1D fics]

Iconic Fics by... - QuickedWeen -

[1]

Harry ducked under the ropes, abs crunching against the wide waistband of his shorts that were sitting high at his natural waist. When he stood up fully in the center of the ring, Louis’ brain finally connected back to the rest of his body and he whipped his mobile out to take a picture.

As soon as he had, he studied the smaller more pixelated Harry for a moment. Had he really just done that?

It was just… He needed to remember what Harry looked like right now. Because… well it seemed like an important moment. Everyone else was taking pictures...

And fucking hell would he wank to this picture for years to come.

[2]

“This was a mistake,” Louis babbled reaching up to run his fingers through his hair, messing with his fringe.

Harry’s heart sunk. “Wh—” he barely managed to get a word out before Louis cut him off.

“This was ridiculous. A ridiculous mistake,” Louis continued to babble, seemingly not able to control his mouth as a side effect of the adrenaline, most likely from how close they came to getting caught.

“Sorry,” Harry bit out as he began to shiver from the breeze, no longer warmed by the proximity of another body.

Louis turned to face him and was very deliberate in making sure Harry met his gaze. “You could never be my soulmate. You don’t want to be in love.”

[3]

Their combat was matched, Harry’s strength with a sword to Louis’ speed. Metal clashed at they traded the upper hand back and forth between them. The men surrounded them, energy restored, jeering and calling out their loyalty to their laird.

Louis studied him as best he could, searching for any kind of weakness he could find. Finally, Harry made a fatal error. He turned to follow Louis’ movements, and his grip weakened on his sword just enough that Louis could knock it out of his hand.

The sword fell to the ground with a heavy thump next to them. Louis’ chest was heaving from the exertion as he held his sword up until the tip was just under Harry’s chin.

“Do you yield, laird?”

“Harry.” The laird’s damp, heavy breaths were clouding on the gleaming metal of Louis’ sword.

“Alright. Do you yield, Harry?” he teased.

Harry looked entirely too relaxed for having been disarmed, but he had indeed been disarmed and the fight was all but over, so Louis didn’t think too much of it.

That, it turned out, was Louis’ fatal mistake.

[4]

Halfway through his notes, he felt it. All of a sudden a feeling of intense warmth and security enveloped him from head to toe. The sensation was so overwhelming that Harry had to put his pen down and lean back in his chair to give himself over to it and wait for it to subside. The sensation wasn’t sexual, it was more comforting, Harry thought. He had never experienced anything like it in his entire life.

The feeling began to ebb a little, and Harry went in search of Amba. If he felt something so strongly it was a safe assumption that she was affected by it as well. Stepping into the main shop, Harry called out her name, “Amba! Where are you, darling?”

“I’m right here, honey!” joked a disembodied voice.

Harry jumped. He had completely forgotten about the front bell. There, in his shop, scratching under Amba’s chin, was Louis Tomlinson. Wait. He was petting Amba! Louis was touching her, and she was letting him.

- Answers Below -

1. Small Doses (Loving You It's Explosive)

Louis Tomlinson finds himself at Vitality Fitness to try and turn his life around after having left his cheating boyfriend of four years. The gym's owner, Liam, quickly becomes a good friend, but his right hand man is rude and dismissive from the get-go.

Louis and Harry continue to clash all while Harry is trying to move his way up the ranks in Manchester's amateur boxing circuit, but they can't seem to stay away from each other.

2. Lend Me Your Hand

Society has long since decided that the soulmarks everyone is born with are entirely unfashionable. They're just another way for people of a lower class to scam their way into marrying above their station.

Lord Louis Tomlinson, Viscount Loring, on the other hand, has always believed that he will find his soulmate one day. Despite preparing for a match his whole life, he is entirely unprepared for the arrival of Gemma Styles' younger brother.

Harry Styles has been traveling and away from society for over a year. Coming back, he intends to spend time with his sister, and slowly reacquaint himself with life in town. He doesn't need to wait around for a soulmark to determine how his life will play out. x

3. After Dark, After Light

Harry Styles is the laird of Clan Edwards who is just trying to keep his clan afloat when they get word that the Mackenzies have been cutting a swath through the Midlands and beyond, and their sights are set on the northern Highlands next. In an attempt to garner extra protection for his clan, Harry sets out to mend his father's past wrongs and ally with their neighbors to the west, Clan Sutherland.

Louis Tomlinson is the mysterious commander of the Sutherland army sent back with Harry on orders from his laird to help shore up Clan Edwards' defenses. As the winter draws nearer by the day, the two are thrown together to prepare for the invasion that they expect as soon as the ground thaws.

4. Far Afield

Harry Styles is a witch who owns the best flower shop in Manchester. Lottie Tomlinson is planning her wedding, and brings her brother along to her first appointment. Both men have been having a bad day and sparks fly.

[kurithedweeb]

Y'all remember that post I made about how Levin should have long-term walking problems because of the time he got possessed? I had more ideas about it. I've done some research for this and I've been basing these on my own experiences with my own bad knee, but if anyone who actually shares the same disability or uses the same mobility aids or medical devices Levin does wants to weigh in or add to this, please do! I'd love the input.

Both of his legs got some damage, but the left one took the brunt of it. He gets some occasional pain in the right foot and ankle, and a much more consistent and persistent pain in his left knee and ankle since that's where most of the misalignments happened when his legs were damaged.

Majority of the time he doesn't find the pain bad enough to justify taking painkillers. Synthetic ones make him fuzzy and most natural painkillers either aren't found on the coast or involve getting high, and he can't afford to be fuzzy or high when he's trying to be a good Lord. He'll end up suffering through it most days and spending the worst of his pain days, when he feels like he's been hit by a truck and can't make himself stand for longer than a few seconds, either administrating from bed or knocked out most of the day.

If he feels like he does need to use painkillers I'd say he prefers capsaicin, which is apparently a natural remedy for joint pain and the peppers for it can be grown on the coast, plus they can be eaten. Capsaicin can be made into a medical cream and applied directly to the affected area, and the anti-inflammatory properties also make it good for bruises and sprains.

While he uses an elbow crutch day-to-day for maneuverability and comfort, he also has a set of axillary crutches to help keep weight off his bad leg when he's having bad days or if he's injured. I've read that axillary crutches are more suitable for people with weaker balance or weaker upper bodies, but using them for too long can lead to crutch bruises around the armpit area and you can damage the axillary nerve that runs through your armpit if you spend too long putting extra pressure on the upper arm or resting your whole weight on the crutch’s soft pad when fatigued, so I imagine Levin occasionally gets awkward crutch bruises and Malachi always notices and tells him to sit down already.

He has at least two knee braces. His main brace is bulkier and offers more support with metal joints and plates running up and down his leg with hinges at the sides of the knee, and the way the plates are arranged almost make it seem like armor but probably won't fool a guard or anyone who regularly wears armor. He does maintenance on this one almost religiously because if it breaks it'll be at least a fortnight before he sees a replacement, and also squeaky metal joints are not stealthy in any way. His other brace is much slimmer and can be hidden under clothes, with an appearance like an athletic brace. It's primarily made of leather, which isn't ideal for a knee brace but in mostly-medieval times you don't really have spandex to work with. Yes, spandex is an actual material used in knee braces, along with latex. Materials aside, it is much more adjustable than his main brace, where the plates are forged to fit a certain way around his leg, and the straps can be buttoned down. If he has to go somewhere for diplomacy reasons, Levin sometimes prefers to wear the second one specifically because he can hide it under his clothes. If he thinks a fight's likely to break out, he'd prefer people don't immediately target the bad knee as an obvious weakness because of his brace.

Most of the braces he used growing up and the ones he owns as Lord were designed by Kenmur! He’s an engineer and used to be very close to Cadenza, so when she sent him a letter asking if he could help her out with something for little Levin of course he agreed, and together they puzzled out a variety of designs with varying levels of support. They also end up offering to make some for the guards of their villages and maybe will end up selling some designs to some craftsmen in other villages.

Levin's done a lot to try and correct his posture into something more regal when he was learning how to be Lord, but his hips are a little uneven from the way he fell when the possession wore off and he's got a bit of an awkward gait from how a few of the little bones in his feet ended up misshapen.

Whenever he sits down, he digs his thumb or the heel of his hand hard into the area where the femur meets the knee, and he often massages little circles around his knees when he's taking breaks.

On his best days he can manage without the braces or the crutches for a couple hours at a time, but he prefers not to go without.

Malachi has a habit of hovering on bad pain days, always at the ready to catch him if he pushes himself too far, but Levin appreciates it because his brother reminds him to take breaks when Levin himself would otherwise just push through to get work done.

As a baby he probably cried a lot because walking and sometimes crawling or even rolling onto his bad side sometimes hurt. He was probably given baby doses of painkillers on a somewhat regular basis until he was cognizant enough to deny wanting them. He never had a bad temper as a kid except when he didn’t wanna take his medicine. He did end up being carried around a lot because Zoey was worried about him walking too much when walking hurt.

Levin didn’t have any of his mobility aids or medical devices when the crew disappeared into the Irene Dimension, so when they got back and Levin was having a bad pain day, they must have been so worried he’d been horribly injured when they came home to see Levin using a crutch and his extra supportive knee brace while Malachi tries to herd him someplace he can sit down because he looks like he’s about to fall over.

[cripplecharacters]

Hello! I have a character who has nerve damage in both her left arm and leg and I'm a lil stuck on what mobility aids I can give her, since she'll sometimes need one for her knee (which has the bulk of the nerve damage in her leg). As far as I'm aware, crutches won't work since it'll put pressure on the left shoulder, which has the bulk of the nerve damage in her arm, and a cane will be difficult since her hand can get stiff and not hold it properly. Any advice you have would be greatly appreciated!

Hi, thank you for your question!

If I understood the situation correctly, your character could definitely use a cane as you use it on the opposite side from the "bad leg". So unless she has the stiffness issue in her right hand as well it shouldn't be a problem.

For example: my right leg is the worse one, so I use a cane in my left hand. This way when I walk it feels more natural because people generally go left hand forward and right leg forward etc. It's great because when you walk you put the weight on either the good leg in the middle, or the cane and the bad leg on the sides which redistributes the weight between them and thus makes it less painful.

Some other options would be;

a singular crutch — basically like a cane but more useful for a lot of people as it provides more balance;

two platform crutches — they're like regular crutches but made for people who have a very weak grip, probably not ideal due to the shoulder situation she has but it's still an option?;

a hemiwalker — a walker that you use with one hand, kind of like a very advanced cane. I have very little experience with these so I won't be able to help much I'm afraid :-( (sad face);

a power wheelchair — much bigger than all the previous options obviously, but you can operate with only one hand or even no hands if needed. If I misunderstood your ask and she has grip issues in both hands, this would probably be the best option (it also has "power" in the name which makes it even cooler).

For anything that you use with one hand (cane, crutch, hemiwalker etc.) you will use it on the opposite side from the bad leg. If you're familiar with Dr House, he uses his cane wrong (lol) - walking like that seems very frustrating and painful to me.

You also might want to look at this post, which talks about the basics of a lot of mobility aids! There are also different types of crutches or canes mentioned (most notably the quad cane which provides much more stability than your regular cane) that you might want to consider for her.

I hope my answer was helpful! If you have more questions, feel free to send another ask.

Mod Sasza

[singsongraptor]

I'm so fucking pissed. I went to donate plasma today so I could have a little money. New game comes out Friday, we need toilet paper, need bread, I donate twice & can get it all! Get there, oh you're due for a physical, cool. Nurse sees my rollator, looks at me sideways.

"what do you need the walker for?"

This is a standard question for me. Every med professional always asks. Not offended, standard question requires standard answer. "Pain and weakness."

She looks at me with the disbelief. "Do you have a doctor's note saying you need that?"

???? Yes?

"you don't seem like you're really using it. You look like you're just pushing it around."

BITCH.

You saw me walk, at most, 15 feet. My walking problems are more obvious over much longer distances & time spent standing & also depends on if it's a good day & what I've been doing all week

But also! You can't see pain! You can't see weakness per se! And if I want to waste 60-300 bucks on a mobility aid I don't need, that's my prerogative!

I keep my cool, but like who TF are you lady? She continued grilling me about my damn rollator too! "There's no note in the system about it"

What that gotta do with me? That's your colleagues that didn't put any notes in the system about it. I don't have an answer for that & I don't need one!

"I've had a rollator for years & never had a problem here or at B Positive" (B Positive is another plasma donation center)

"Well, I'm putting it in the chart"

Like ok, fine. I can't stop you anyway.

"It's nothing against you, but you need to be healthy and well to donate."

My legs ain't got shit to do with donating plasma, but wtfever. Get on the exam table and she does her thing. Gets to listening to my heart & "I feel like I hear extra beats."

She goes to get a colleague, who also hears irregular beats. Supposedly. Can't prove or disprove, but it's sus. However, instead of just deferring me for a day or two, they write up my chart as requiring a fucking DOCTOR'S NOTE, with records! For their docs to then review

This is nasty, diabolical work, bcuz it effectively cuts off income to mostly poor ppl until they can get to a Dr, get the records and notes filled out, then come back and have it all further reviewed, to maybe get cleared to resume donating. I have never had any issues until this lady!

And I'd be less pissed and less suspicious that she screwed me over being an ableist bitch if she didn't tack on "it's nothing personal, but this is why I said you have to be healthy and well to donate" right before I left. Cuz fuck the fuck off, I've never had an issue donating ever until YOU

My POTS and my asthma are relatively well controlled and I use my inhaler before donating regularly cuz it's a half mile walk from the nearest trolley stop to the plasma center and I've never had this issue! Until miss "you don't look like you're using that"

Like how can I not be sus that this was a setup? She decided I didn't need to be there and kicked me out is how it looks. Like I was hoping to maybe not have to beg so much for March, but fuck me I guess! The universe just on my ass today for no reason.

Like I'm expected to believe two nurses who know jack shit about me caught a possible arrhythmia or murmur that my thorough and caring cardiologist ain't catch in 6 years? Just by coincidence? Just so happen? Fuck outta here.

Like why would you defer me like this when there's no reason to believe this is evidence of some occult issue, especially when I'm on a medication with known, transient, cardiac side effects (Albuterol) which I have always made sure was in my chart. Like it just smells like funk and I'm furious.

[ruru195]

From Steel to Stars: The First Day I Met Him

They called it a mansion. And it was.

Marble floors, polished like mirrors. Grand, echoing halls dressed in gold and silence. Air too cold for comfort. I walked a step behind them, the parents, notebook in hand, jaw tight, spine straight—military instincts I couldn’t turn off.

They spoke as if I weren’t there, or as if I were an appliance.

“You’ll follow the schedule to the letter. Wake him at seven, feed at eight. No sweets. No television. No noise.”

“He’s not obedient,” the mother added casually, like she was discussing a broken vase. “He plays difficult. You’ll need discipline. We don’t tolerate weakness.”

The father grunted. “We’re doing you a favor. Plenty of applicants, but we chose a man with your background. Marine, wasn’t it? Lucky you.”

Lucky.

Once I led squads into battle. I’d eaten dirt, fought in blizzards, bled under fire. Now I was being handed a clipboard and the keys to a gilded prison. A glorified babysitter to some pampered brat.

But I didn’t speak. I just nodded once, sharp and cold.

They stopped in front of an ornate door.

“He’s in there,” the mother said. “Don’t bother us.”

Then they left.

I took a breath. Rolled my shoulders. And opened the door.

It wasn’t what I expected.

No toys strewn across the floor. No loud music. No chaotic mess or screaming tantrum.

The room was quiet.

A crib sat in the middle. A mobile of stars gently turning above it. Shelves lined with picture books, soft toys, a rocking chair. The air smelled faintly of baby powder.

It was a nursery.

Not a child’s room.

A baby’s room.

But there was no baby.

“Felix?” I called.

Silence.

I searched every corner. Under the crib. Behind the dresser. In the toy chest. An hour passed. Nothing.

I was ready to report a missing child.

Then I saw it—a small movement near the closet. A flick of black. A hand, reaching from beneath. But not for help.

For something yellow.

A soft fabric shimmered faintly in the dim light. Yellow, dotted with tiny black Xs. I realized with a jolt—it was no ordinary blanket. The ends shifted subtly, like something alive. Magic. It pulsed faintly in the air.

I’d read the file. I knew Felix had “gifts.” But seeing it here, transformed into a baby’s comfort object—it startled me. The bag’s form changed as he grew older, I’d been told. But back then, it often took this shape: a blanket. Something warm. Something safe.

I crouched, heart steady, lowering myself until I was eye-level with the closet floor.

And there he was.

Felix.

Tiny. Maybe one year old. Barely more than a bundle of black fur and wide hazel eyes. His tail curled tight around his side. He clutched the edge of the yellow bag-blanket like a lifeline.

He stared at me.

Not crying. Just watching.

Cautious. Curious. Scared.

I softened my voice. “Hey, kid. You hiding?”

He didn’t move. Just stared deeper.

“I’m not gonna hurt you. Promise.”

Still nothing.

I sat down with a sigh, leaning against the wall beside the closet. The marble floor sent a chill through my spine, but I stayed still. I’d waited out worse.

Five minutes. Ten.

I closed my eyes briefly.

And then—a tiny hand brushed my knuckles.

I opened them to see Felix, now inches from me, barely making a sound. His small fingers were tracing the scar across my right hand.

“You like that?” I asked softly. “Got it during a mission in the Andes. Bad day.”

He blinked up at me, big eyes fixated on the mark. Then slowly, he pointed.

At my medals, still pinned to the inside of my jacket.

I gave a small smile. “You want to see those, huh? They’re shiny.”

I unpinned one—silver with a blue ribbon—and held it out. He stared at it like it was a treasure, then slowly reached out and took it in both hands, eyes wide.

And then… he smiled.

That was it.

That was the beginning.

Felix never needed discipline.

He needed affection. Patience. Safety.

He wasn’t difficult—he was afraid. A genius of a child, curious and stubborn, always building, exploring, hiding in places just to see if someone would come find him.

And I always did.

His magic bag grew with him. From a blanket, to a satchel, to a feather tucked in his cap. It transformed into what he needed most, always by his side, like I was.

He chewed wires. Tried to eat a battery once. I once had to dive across the room because he thought dish soap smelled like frosting.

We watched the stars together from the rooftop.

We built forts and named them castles. I taught him to fish. To fight. To climb. To sew his own shirt when he refused to wear anything "ugly."

He once asked why his parents never read him stories.

I didn’t have an answer.

When he turned twelve, they told him about the arranged marriage.

He shouted. He cried. He begged.

They called him disgraceful.

That night, it rained.

I stood under an umbrella outside their mansion’s gate, watching the front door open as a soaked, crying boy was shoved out with a tiny suitcase—his tail limp, his bag dragging behind him in the mud.

They didn’t look back.

He stood alone on the stone steps, drenched, trembling, tears lost in the storm.

I stepped forward.

Held the umbrella over him.

Took the suitcase from his numb hand.

He didn’t speak. Just looked at me with those same eyes from the closet.

I lifted him into my arms.

“You’re coming home,” I said, voice quiet, steady.

He sobbed into my shoulder, clutching my jacket and his magic bag, as I carried him through the rain. Away from the gates. Away from the mansion. Away from people who never loved him.

We went to a small cottage I’d bought after retiring. A home tucked far from the city, surrounded by trees and silence.

It became his home, too.

Years passed.

Felix became bolder. Brighter. Wilder. A storm of ideas and mischief. He built. He dreamed. He wrote stories, rode trains, got into fights, made friends, made enemies. But he always came home.

And then—he met Oswald.

Everything changed.

Felix didn’t slow down. He didn’t settle. He bloomed.

At their wedding, I stood in the back. He wore a suit that didn’t quite sit flat, his magic bag now a belt at his side. Oswald held his hands like they were made of light.

Felix turned, scanning the crowd—and found me.

He smiled, tearful. The same smile from the closet. The same smile from the rain.

He mouthed it again.

“Dad.”

And I broke.

All the years. The fears. The midnight talks. The bruised knees. The star-gazing. The moment he stopped being my assignment… and became my son.

He was never difficult.

He was mine.

[blugnettabutterflies]

This comes with spoilers for Criminal Case: The Conspiracy

(mainly after case 60. Also a TW for medical talk and a lot of injuries and scarring burns.)

So I finally decided to put together an Injury Chart for Jones for what happens in Blaze of Glory. Because I am so damn sure that he didn't just walk away with the repercussions that he got. It must have been way more and I am here to give it.

With that said, this is my personal interpretation of the situation, and screw canon!

Here, the full body picture

And now, some headcanons where I'll explain my position on this situation!

He didn't wake up that same night when he was admitted. There is a possible reason he could have been woken up and it was because of evacuation, but they didn't do it in the end. Maybe they kept him semiconscious to not risk a lot of brain damage since the injuries are bad. I supposed that he was put back to sleep for the next 3 or so days completely and maybe a bit more. He woke up after 5 days or a week. He still gets brain damaged (ill explain more down)

Speaking of injuries, the burns took almost 60-70% of his body, especially on the front side and the face. The face burns were from 2nd to 3rd, as well as the torso and up side of the legs and mainly the right arm. The left arm and downside on the legs were second degrees mostly. That's why he was in a lot of pain as said by Cathy.

Also, he had to undergo a lot of surgeries. Not only to amputate his eye but also a brain/skull surgery had to be gone because he hit his skull BADLY on some rocky furniture, since the blast sent him flying away. Other surgeries were made around the broken bones, essentially on ribs, arms, and legs. Luckily none of the vertebral bones were cracked, so it means that he can walk.

The surgeon also put him some skin graphs at the most injured parts and that procedure lasted for some months.

Another surgery that was done on him (as you can see in the picture) was a hair transplant.

Around the brain damage side of things, the blast caused him to have some alteration in his cognition. Not completely severe to the point that he to be dependent forever, but some sensation weakness, as well as mobility and mainly voluntary movement, which is what causes his prolonged paralysis mainly on his right side. He found it difficult to manipulate object with hsi right hand and to stand for a big amount of time, another reason of why he uses the cane. Additionally, he experienced speech and concentration difficulties.

What Gabriel informed Cathy was true. The surgeon and the staff who took his case had no idea if he was going to make it through the night. In fact, this was because, when they were operating on him, his vitals were fluctuaring a lot. He flat-lined once, and while he recovered quickly from that one, it was a sign that he was a delicate patient. Also, they were in the middle of the neohuman rampage, so there was even more of a risk. The staff sighed of relief when they saw Jones' brain activity actually responding to stimuli after a few days.

Around the topic of walking, due to the blast, he pretty much wasn't able to walk properly anymore. Not only because of the muscle weakness that this caused, but also because the waist bones had a hit too, and walking for big amounts of time causes some pain at first. He was in a way unable to move, on a wheelchair for the first 6 months. He is going to Physical and Occupational Therapy daily to go up some stairs. He was probably able to walk with a roller a few days after the 6 months, only in days when he felt confident. He started to use a cane after a year or so. He permanently uses it.

In fact, I am not sure if he actually made it to the memorial. He either woke up when the memorial was happening or he wasn't allowed to go due for the risk. If he went however, he was extremely supervised. As soon as it was over (or even before that), he was back at the hospital. He did go to Amir and Jasper's wedding 5 months later though, still in a wheelchair to not cause an accident.

Other injuries from the blast also include injuries on the eardrums, which caused audition alterations. He has now moderate to severe deafness on his right side and mild to moderate deafness on his left. He does use hearing aids (sometimes he forgets to take them out in his sleep).

Also, around his still functioning eye, while it's not damaged completely, he has problems with vision perception, making the walking part even more difficult. Actually, all of the tasks he does are difficult because of that at first.

Around the mental health side of things, during the rehabilitation process, his emotions were swinging around. He needed... A LOT OF HELP ON THAT. He was lucky that there was a therapist who decided to take his case and was able to receive all the punches and breakdowns.

There were a lot of nightmares. And I'm telling you. A lot. Of them. He would wake up in sweat and major pain. They became easier to handle with time.

The first time he saw himself in the mirror was... an experience to say the least. He saw himself and cried a lot, to the point that he had to be comforted for a few minutes. It took him a while to adjust. He knew it was his face, but he hated it a lot at first.

Before seeing his face, the visits were very secluded to best fiends and family members. Since his coworkers at the precint were his "family" he would allow their visits. After seeing his face, the visits were reducing by his own command. He was ashamed of himself for a bit.

Still, the team was eager to make him company. Despite him sometimes rejecting the visitations, when he accepted them, he found that it was a nice time. Their reassurance and news about the outside world would motivate him to recover so he could feel it himself.

Another thing that motivated him (or better off, someone) was Zoe. When he was able to move his hands and handle things for a while, he would read almost daily the letter he received back when he was hospitalized from his attempt. It gave him a boost, thinking that she would like for him to still try. It's a good pick me up. (If he couldn't he would ask someone to read it from her. Aside from other letters the team found in the meantime.)

But his big breakthrough was a bit later. He originally was going to have an eye prosthetic, and he was so sure of it... until he got a visitation from his sibling's family, where his nephew told him that he looked like a pirate with the eyepatch. He liked the idea of being something not as scary as he thought. And he, while the eye prosthetic was tempting, he denied it for the moment.

That gesture gave him a complete change of perspective to a more positive one, and the rehabilitation process was actually working even better. He was a pirate in that kid's eyes. So he may just commit to the bit.

After being discharged, he lived in various houses with Astrid to avoid being alone, until he could back on his feet. Sometimes he stayed at Gabriel's, other times at Ramirez's, Parker's, and occasionally at Player's house. During the first few months after his discharge however, he mainly stayed at Ramirez's house, where he and his family had a spacious room prepared for him with a great view.

Since he was on a medical leave for months, he took other activities that caught his eye (not pun intended) and his body would allow. He actually retook his reading hobby from it.

He actually took care of himself. He still attended the therapy sessions, he even went to a support group dedicated to survivors of deadly situations. He met a lot of people and he didn't feel lonely. And saw that there was more life than his job.

At first, he was so eager to come back to work and be useful and worth it. After rehabilitation and the support groups, he started to doubt, until he finally decided that he deserved a more calm life. And with that, he retired. He doesn't regret it. He keeps contact with the rest of the precinct. He still attends to their birthdays.

And he's happy. After all, limping sometimes, and even with some nightmares, he was overall, happy.

And there you have it! Screw canon my boy is disabled!

[zeondraws]

ONE day left until the artbook supposedly ships.!!!

I hope it'll be the case I am excited to get itttt.

My brain feels like mush because I slept badly tonight, I got woken up because of a big delivery

Huge ass canvas, goodness gracious

Also random side note, those people that check the swtd wiki on mobile, I recommend using something like adblock browser or something else that blocks the ads. I don't have the power to do anything against the sheer amount of ads they throw at people. Nor does it seem like it'll go away soon which is a big weak point of this website.

Should make the experience a bit easier on the eyeballs

I'll continue editing oil strike later tonight. I think I added too many images in one section and something else. Much tinkering

[randomthefox]

Part 1

Sonic races into Eggman's base and starts doing his thing, plowing through badniks. After breaking through the entrance he can't help but notice that the robots he's busting through do seem a big stronger than usual, almost like they're fighting with fresh batteries, and yet they don't have any small animals inside them like he might have expected from that. So he figures Eggman must be using a new energy supply for his bots. An alarm starts blaring through the base so Sonic books it because he's here on a rescue mission after all and Eggman is unpredictable there's no telling what he might do to Bumblebee's friends once he finds out Sonic is here.

Soon makes his way into the holding cell neighboring an experimentation chamber where Eggman has all the transformers locked up in their cages. Megatron is the only one absent because he's in the experiment room behind a huge closed door, Eggman working on him in there. Sonic looking up at one of the Decepticons through the electric bars of his cage and goes all "wow, you guys are big =x didn't think Bumblebee was just a runt." Optimus is like oh you met Bumblebee is he safe and Sonic is like yeah he's fine, he called in the cavalry I'm here to set you guys all free. The Decepticons are like you can't do shit look at how small and fleshy and fragile you are.

On que the huge steel doors of the experiment room open and Megatron stomps out into view, with his chest hollowed out with black metal scarring and Eggman is inside with his Egg Mobile, piloting Megatron around like he's a Mecha. The Decepticons are horrified and even the Autobots are like damn that's fucked up. A hoard of badniks flood out along with them, and Megatron infuses them with Dark Energon powering them up. As the hoard of robots surges towards Sonic, he starts rolling and jumping and homing attacking and stomping through them until he reduces the entire squadron of badniks to scrap, leaving all the Transformers impressed. But then Eggman just cackles and pilots Megatron into holding out his hand and sending out a surge of dark energy, and suddenly the energon that had been shared into the badniks surges up from the piles of scrap and makes the broken bits of metal explode sending out pops of shrapnel that blast Sonic back as he's taken by surprise.

Megatron's body is being controlled by Eggman piloting him, but he can still talk independently. Megatron speaks as Sonic is shaking his head from that and Eggman is gloating over it, and directs him to the power generator for their cages is in the experiment room. If he can blow through that it'll shut down their cages. Optimus is like yes that way we can help you and escape, and Megatron is like no so my Decepticons can get off their ass and scramble this egg and save him. Through that Eggman starts trying to stomp on Sonic while he spins his way through and past him and makes it into the room to blow out the generator, causing all the cages to shut down while Eggman throws a tantrum.

Optimus tells all the Autobots to roll out and get out to safety. Megatron orders the Decepticons to rally to him. Both hesitate, but Optimus tells them to trust him as he trudges out and makes his way towards Megs to help Sonic, and the Autobots flee. Starscream starts screeching that since Megatron is just a puppet for a fleshling that makes him the leader of the Decepticons now and he orders them to evacuate the base and regroup, and the majority of the Decepticons do indeed bail leaving only Soundwave and Shockwave stick around.

As everyone mostly clears out it's left to Megatron with Eggman, Optimus on one side of them and Sonic on the otherside. They both charge at him, but Megatron just does a lariat and sends them both flying back. Optimus is weak from his imprisonment and Sonic is running low on fumes and is trying to fight a giant fuck off robot on foot. Eggman reveals that with the experimentation he's done, he's found that the Transformers are powered by a power source called Energon which is abundant on Earth including within its living inhabitants! And as long as he is inside of Megatron, Eggman's own natural living energon output is empowering Megatron making him even more powerful than normally (and also mentions that since he's piloting the robot he's benefiting from brain and brawn and is undefeatable). Optimus does mention that when he does a scan of the room on a different light spectrum, he does see Sonic as this massive glowing radiant source of pure energon. Looking from Eggman Megatron's carved out chest cavity, and then to Optimus, Sonic says that gives him an idea and he spins past Megatron going between his legs and towards Optimus.

Sonic bounces up to his shoulder and goes "bet you're hungry after that prison food, huh? Well open wide!" And he jumps down past the face plate and down Optimus's throat and lands down into his belly. With Sonic inside him Optimus starts surging with energy and glows until all the scuffs and dust from his time being held prisoner evaporate away, and he stands tall back to full strength and then some! Optimus and Megatron start fighting, and with Sonic and Eggman fueling them they're pretty evenly matched. Optimus and Sonic both decide that what's important is everyone has gotten to safety, so they decide to beat a tactical retreat and Optimus goes truck mode an starts driving away while evading Megatron shooting after him and escape the base.

Soundwave walks up and points a gun directly in Eggman's face, but Shockwave pushes it aside. Shockwave is impressed by Eggman's experiments and how he has taken total control of Megatron against his will, and he wants to learn more from the flesh creature. Shockwave is loyal to his own cruel twisted idea of scientific progress, and hoping to lay claim to the Decepticons once he has enough knowledge to dispatch Eggman and Megatron both with all he's learned. Soundwave is loyal to Megs through and through and will stick around by Megatron's side until a moment to free him presents itself. And Megatron is a prisoner in his own puppeteered body, able to speak but not act as Eggman pilots his body for his own interests. An unholy Deceggticon trinity.

Optimus and Sonic make it back to Tails' workshop, and Sonic hops out of the drivers seat of the truck before Optimus transforms back to robot mode. As they arrive Bumblebee is the only one there, and he excitedly starts explaining to the two of them that he and Tails made an amazing discovery, opening his mouth as Tails pops out from it and goes "tah-dah =D " explaining what they discovered about Earthlings being able to energize and empower Cybertronians! Sonic is like "whoa, crazy stuff for you guys to figure out on your own like that!" with a knowing smirk.

While Optimus just nods with a sage acknowledgment that it will be a powerful collaboration for them, especially since now the Transformers are scattered and off who knows where across the planet, and he wants to do whatever he want to both reunite his Autobots and also ensure the rogue Decepticons cannot exploit the planet or harm its inhabitants. Tails agrees that last point is particularly salient because it didn't take them long to discover that Earthlings are a potent energy source for Cybertronians, and he doubts Decepticons will be nice enough to ask permission before swallowing someone up to charge up from their organic energon output like Bumblebee did.

and so it would go from there into some episodic ventures showing the various Transformers meeting and teaming up with their receptive Sonic characters.

[olauivers]

Raghhhh I love your posts on viktor, I’m writing a story with him and love seeing perspectives on his disabilities :D you should totally use this as an opportunity to ramble about him if you would like, I always love seeing people talk about blorbos :3

Also, my personal take on Viktor using his crutch/cane on the same side as his weak leg is that piltover does not have the medical awareness at all when it comes to treating disabilities. They’re certainly not shown to prioritise accessibility and I’d imagine they’re a lot less willing to face and work with disabilities than Zaunites, where they are far more normalised and often better understood. We see a lot of characters with interesting prosthetics, so I wonder if the approach is just. Amputation. Regardless of if it’s actually fitting. But that would also probably be prohibitively expensive for most people which is why you get people that have lacking mobility aids/improper use of those aids. I think it would be an interesting way to reinforce class issues and how those interact with other, existing biases.

Lmk what you think !!

STOP THIS IS SO SWEET!!! genuinely didn't think so many people would love that post, but I'm so glad to see people loving it. And saving it for future reference.

But 100% if I'm honest it is more natural for someone to use it on the side of the weak leg, I mean, it makes sense right? Bad side need balance! It's also like, more comfortable to be like Right Leg and Right Arm go not Right Leg and Left Arm.

I think, especially in Zaun, it's easier, and better for you, to chop off a limb and be done with it. Cheaper too! These people NEED. TO. WORK. They can't spend time making and learning to use mobility aids, because how would they even THINK of it? Even more so when they probably see a lot of things in nature, drop something rotting, and live better. Think of Ekko's tree, ect ect.

I think sometimes we forget that mobility aids are inherently a classist thing! You NEED money for them. You NEED time off when the pain is bad. You NEED heath care. Hell! I had a situation where I genuinely thought about getting my leg amputated because it would be easier to work, that amount of recovery, and then it being okay ish, is better than living in a wheelchair, cause than I could work.

It's a real issue people face! If you don't have the money, to make something that inherently has to be very specific for you, and you need someone else to HELP MAKE IT WORK (think bolts and getting aids off and on ect.) it's just not feasible.

also please send me the story i will devour it!! I would also throw up if someone included him doing what a lot of us do which is leaning onto the bad leg cause the pressure takes away some pain. catch me leaning on my right leg when it hurts cause it feels better.

[awetistix]

before I got my forearm crutches, I used my canes. I favored my left side by using my cane with my right hand ( I am also right handed ), which made me worried about it getting weak. turns out in PT that my right side was weaker! I’m just saying that I was surprised ; it is still good to be mindful of how mobility aids can effect ones body, good and bad.

[felidthing]

surprise second round

this one requires you to learn things about my ocs. i beg of you to stay with me. you could also vote randomly if you want, i guess i dont actually care too much. but im giving you info so enjoy my info. theres art at the end after the poll go vote on my poll and see kitty art

SETTING THE SCENE:

applepaw is blind in her left eye due to a wound given to her by the shadowclan apprentice streampaw. the two of them keep far apart from each other ever since then- though streampaw was the winner, he left that fight with far less blood than he came into it with. its the only fight he doesnt go on long bragging retellings of.

riding the triumph of winning a battle with skyclan, redstar of thunderclan begins plans for an attack on their other neighbor, shadowclan. he's aiming for a complete takeover. absorbing shadowclan into his rule and hopefully shaking some of their close-knit culture apart. applepaw lost another fight in the battle with skyclan and barely survived, and now she's desperate to regain redstar's good image of her. she cant afford to show weakness again.

but applepaw is still adjusting to her new daily life and mobility after nearly getting her throat torn out- washing is hard, learning her new range of motion is hard, recovering emotionally from almost dying is hard. when it comes time to attack shadowclan's camp, she has to be realistic in who she can take on. she needs to go for someone closer to her age, skillset, and experience.

ivystripe is shadowclan's youngest warrior, just a little older than applepaw. they probably would have become warriors around the same time if applepaw hadnt lost so much time to healer's den rest orders. ivystripe has more experience than the average new warrior due to thunderclan's onslaught of aggression over the past couple of seasons, but so does applepaw.

streampaw is a couple moons younger than applepaw. he's on par with applepaw's experience, but has more connections in his clan and individual victories that keep him confident and defiant towards thunderclan. he overdoes his disdain for applepaw in a way she knows is because he's scared of fighting her again.

(ivystripe is as stressed as anyone about the times he lives in, but he kind of hopes the unrest gives him more opportunities to prove himself, and get him an apprentice early. he wants to give someone the same sense of belonging and purpose training with a mentor gave him. he's friendly with the warriors his age, but keeps to himself more often than the average shadowclan cat. he thinks that maybe if he had an apprentice, he could become closer with their family and be a "better" shadowclan cat.)

(streampaw is the deputy's son and isnt shy about it. streampaw isnt shy about anything. he's a loud presence at gatherings and is exactly the kind of tryhard that would injure applepaw the way he did. he wears his scars with pride. he has a massive crush on a dopey apprentice named sunnypaw and genuinely admires how hard he works to keep up with the more skilled apprentices. streampaw is good at spinning stories and getting cats on his side. he was an only child, a bad omen, and quickly grew to charm everyone around him to keep them from thinking about it.)