#the brain is not a muscle actually but the rest of this is correct

[lvlyghost]

I love your stories so much I can't 😫😍😍❤️

Could you maybe write a angst to fluff ghost x reader story where the reader gets injured badly while ghost is on her side the whole time in the hospital while she is unconscious and he's having breakdowns and anxiety and all really angsty stuff and when she wakes up she comforts him and all is fluffy and maybe a bit smutty 🤭

No More Stars Left to Count

PAIRINGS: Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader

SUMMARY: Few things made Simon break down. Almost losing his girl takes a toll on him.

WORD COUNT: 1.6k

TW: Smut! MDNI! Angst, hurt, comfort. Injuries. Panic attacks. Grammar mistakes just the usual... Do not read if you're under 18.

A/N: I'm actually quite happy with this one🥹🩷 Enjoy Anon! This is my first time posting smut and in another language so sorry in advance if there are mistakes! Corrections are appreciated ✨🐝

Masterlist✨

Simon's head rests on his left hand, his eyes bore into your fragile body. Several machines are attached to you, helping you breathe, pumping meds into your system. He doesn't deserve you by any means. He doesn't deserve your trust, your laughter, your body.

All he can think about— as his brown orbs can't find the strength to look away— is how miserably he had failed to protect his team. To protect you. It's been twelve days and you still don't show any signs of waking up; it wasn't abnormal for you to not wake up. The damage inflicted to your body had been great. Simon thought for a painful moment he had lost you for good. The woman he cared for. The woman he utterly loved.

He swallows hard.

There aren't many things that'd scare him. He's simply seen too much. But this? Was this truly his destiny? To lose everyone he loved? His family and now you?

He inhales sharply, his free hands traces your inert hand, tracing soft patterns on your pale skin littered with cuts and bruises. That very hand he adores to hold when you were together. He blinks, memories from your last night together flooding his brain as he sinks further down the chair, adjusting the hoodie over his head.

The night before leaving for the mission in Romania.

-

"No, wait look Simon! Give it to me!" You chuckle, under the covers, both of your bodies remain warm. It wasn't unusual that Simon couldn't sleep so he'd often come into your room and spend the night with you. "There." You pointed out. Your hand and his hand stretched out in front of you, slowly you touch his, spreading out your palms comparing hands. Your eyelashes flutter at the mere sight of his big calloused hand outsize yours, completely engulfing it. You splay out your fingers until they're intertwined.

His breath catches in his throat. He loved how small you were compared to him. He wanted to protect you from everything even from himself, but you had refused to leave him when he tried to push you away.

"Come here." He grabs your arm pining you down and under his gargantuan body. You squeal, laughing at the sudden change of position; Simon sets his body between your legs. Your arms rest on his sides, layers of muscle tensing under your touch. Tilting your head back, eyes meet the dark sky outside the window.

"Look at them." You mumble, Simon lays a kiss on your neck taking advantage. He loves the feeling of your steady pulse on his lips. "The stars are so bright tonight." He hums absentmindedly, hands coming to grip his blond locks.

There's a fire burning in your belly and the ache between your thighs when you feel the tent forming through his grey sweatpants.

"Need you, love." He grumbles. His hands undress your bottom half making you gasp.

"Simon..." soft pink lips kiss your body. Your chest, your stomach... until he's lost between your legs. Mouth lapping at your wetness. You squirm under his touch, it's intoxicating. It feels like you might combust. The fire running through your veins, the goosebumps on your sensitive flesh as you clench around nothing. Unable to resist it you grab him by the arms. "You know what I need." In the blink of an eye two bodies intertwined moving desperately chasing the sweetest end together. He murmurs soft encouraging words in your ear that sent shockwaves through your veins, Simon couldn't possibly be more deep inside you, hitting that sensitive spot that made you want to scream, nails digging on his back, surely leaving red marks that he would proudly show tomorrow.

The purple and orange that tinges the sky outside filters through the window, casting an ethereal display of colors around this room that hides away the few moments you get to spend with him as you finish together; feeling impossibly more in love with him.

"It's clearing already." You point out. Simon looks up from your eyes, albeit reluctant to miss the beautiful shade of your orbs. "No more stars left..."

He kisses your forehead, then bumps his nose against you before he finds your mouth.

"There'll be plenty more to count tomorrow, sweetheart. I promise."

But you're not counting them as he promised the night before. Instead he's shouting orders like an enraged man. Heart beating out of his chest, you were so close to the evac point with your squad. Five minutes ago he had squeezed your arm and kissed your temple before urging you to get in the land rover from the SAS. Only to watch it blow seconds later. His heart stopped and then the ringing in his eardrums.

It was an ambush.

And as the rest covered him he rushed to you.

The blood. Crimson blood all over the bodies. He knew what this meant.

"Sergeant!" He forces his body to move, dragging you by the straps of your combat vest to take cover behind one of the vehicles. He knows he shouldn't be moving you like that, but right now he can't think of anything else than getting you out of there... "Bloody fucking hell!" He roars.

What was that feeling, like his soul was being ripped apart...?

-

Releasing a shaky breath, Simon squeezes your hand once again careful not to hurt you. The IV in your hand too foreign. It's too much. The sight, the memories of the vehicle flying through the sky...

The pit in his stomach grows, a wave of nausea and uneasiness hitting him all of the sudden. Simon stands on wobbly legs, taking one last glance at you he steps out the ICU. Crouching down he yanks the balaclava from his face. Why was his chest so tight, and his vision filled with blackness? The incessant ring on his ears is real. Fucking real. It was supposed to be a nightmare... this thing pulling him down.

"Come back to me baby." He pleads in a hushed tone although he knows you can't hear him. Simon lifts his hands to find support on the wall in front of him. He breathes as much air as he can through his nose, tries to blink away the black dots.

"Lieutenant Riley?" A feminine voice wafts through the empty hallway reaching him. He holds out a shaky finger without even looking at her.

"Leave..." he warns.

"Sir? I...-" the nurse hesitates.

"Now!" He barks.

She scurries away but not before calling the doctors and the Captain to the med wing.

Simon stays there until his ragged breathing evens, he then goes back to your room, deep down he hopes—prays— that your eyes will open when you hear him. But you don't. He sits again on the couch where he's tried to sleep, tossing the mask away from him. His throat bobs, what's happening to him? It burns. The door creaks open revealing a concerned John who looks at him in disapproval.

"This isn't going to help anyone Simon." He scolds him.

"What do you want Price?"

"You need to sleep. And for... just for the love of God eat something son."

"Not until I know she'll be fine."

Price sighs closing the door behind him.

"She wouldn't want this." Even then, Price doesn't want to look at you. This had taken a toll on everyone. But Simon wasn't handling it well. Rubbing his eyes he scoffs. "Come on go get some rest I can stay."

"No." Both men stare at each other not wanting to back down. "I'm on leave you don't get to tell me what to do Price."

John crosses his arm.

"I'm worried Simon. I want her to be okay too. We all do."

Simon's jaw clenched, hands balling into fists. They don't really know. They don't know, can't comprehend the extent of his love for you.

"What if this was your girl? Would you leave her fucking side hm?"

A tense pause electrifies the air as the two glare at each other, oblivious to the other person whose eyes are tearing.

The beeping sound increases as your heart rate goes up. Two pair of eyes snap to the sound. Your hand tries to snatch the oxygen from your face, but Simon darts out with dread plastered all over his features. You faintly hear John calling the doctors.

"Easy, love. Easy..." he soothes you. Stopping your hands from moving. Your body is in too much pain, tears slip down your cheeks, once again Simon grits his teeth. If he could he'd take it all away. "Don't force yourself you're..." he trails off. "You're hurt."

It feels like you're body is being torn apart. The drugs are slowly leaving your system.

"What happened?" your croak out, throat dry and inflamed. He sits bringing the glass of water to your lips not before removing for a brief moment the oxygen mask. You take a small sip and thank him with a weak smile.

"Ambush." He explains. Hating that he can see the images all over again in the back of his mind. "Thought I lost you."

More tears well in your eyes, as weak as you feel you reach out your hands tracing his jawline and cheekbone. He closes his eyes, and finally breathes again, with you touching him he feels alive again. He wants nothing more than to go home with you.

"How many nights..."

"Twelve..."

The doctors rush in but before they drag him away you say:

"That's a lot of counting we've missed."

A press of his lips on your forehead, a silent promise to never let anything happen to you ever again. Even if it mean giving his own life for yours. He would do it any day. Better him than you.

"We've got the rest of our lives, love."

[littleplantfreak]

Grocery Shopping Headcanons 1

I said I'd do these a while back and someone requested I do them when I was taking requests for my 100 followers event so uwu)/ one request fulfilled!! There will be a part two with the others coming eventually...Once I get through the rest of my requests.

____________

Umemiya Hajime

-One of the funnest people to go grocery shopping with tbh.

He's talking you into buying a few extra snacks/food by holding them up in front of you and puppeting them at you, asking in a silly high pitched voice if you'll please buy them because they've heard your pantry is the best vacation spot in town! He gets so silly with it.

-The older people in town tell him when and where the best sales are, which makes budgeting a lot easier. Don't tell anyone, but sometimes if one of them is in front of you in line, they'll have the cashier use their senior discount for your stuff as well. Don't try to fight them on it, though; they'll insist the only thing they need is for you both to visit them every once in a while, which you planned to do regardless.

-Gets upset if he hasn't found you in the store for a while after leaving to pick some things up. Once he does see you, he acts like it's been weeks and refuses to leave your side for the rest of the shopping trip. He's quite literally stuck to you like glue.

-The type to have really funky or cute looking reusable bags.

Choji Tomiyama

-Can't stay on task to save his life. If you're pushing the cart, he will stand on the other side of it being pushed around. He insists he'll take turns, but he gets a bit too enthusiastic with how fast he should be going through the aisles. Nearly runs a few people over before you decide maybe just pushing it normally works best.

-Do not let him disappear on you; he'll end up at some other grocery store two miles down the street.

-Sometimes he knows your tastes better than you do. If you're deliberating over trying something new, 9/10 times he's correct about how you'll like it. He actually pays a lot of attention to what you like to eat and drink.

-Calls Togame and not only asks him what he wants from the store, but tells him to come down by the time you guys are done to help carry your stuff. He hasn't said no to Choji yet.

-He's feeding you both all the samples he can find until you realize you snacked so much you're not even hungry for dinner anymore.

Suo Hayato

-He's pretty relaxed compared to the other two. He'll let you take the reins for the most part since he's got all the stuff written down and knows each aisle it's in. He doesn't often stray from his normal foods so it's almost muscle memory now.

-When he does try something new, it's weird stuff. Like you didn't know this was in the store weird, what aisle does that even go in? You look around to see, and find nothing. He either took the last one or he was in the forbidden part of the grocery store.

-Sometimes, if he knows you're getting a lot, he brings the collapsible grocery wagon. (don't even play with me, this is the hottest thing someone could do for grocery shopping.)

-Watch out if you lose sight of him or he goes to grab something without you, because he WILL jumpscare you and you WILL have to try to smother your yelp.

Nirei Akihiko

-Extreme couponing Nirei edition tbh he's got it down to a science

-Knows a surprising amount of recipes by heart, so if you're trying hard to remember what you need for what you wanna make? Don't even get out your phone to struggle with finding enough bars (because for some reason grocery stores are iron fortresses that don't have cell service?) Nirei has it all up there in his beautiful brain.

-He's never in a rush and doesn't really separate from you (why would he want to?) He's just thrilled to spend time with you.

-Also one to have a bunch of different reusable bags.

-If you have a certain diet or need a certain ingredient, he knows all the specialty food stores around and is more than okay with making the extra stop with you.

-He has a certain type and brand of ice cream he likes to get as a treat every time, and although he tells you he doesn't need it, if they happen to be out of stock, he deflates a little.

Sakura Haruka

-You wouldn't think someone could be bad at grocery shopping, but....he's bad at it. An excess of meats and carbs is what comes home if you send him by himself, so it's best just to go together.

-Also you could swear he's giving a nasty look to the vegetable section hoping you don't pick any terrible ones up (though what's terrible to him is most of them)

-You catch him trying to hide if he sees someone he knows because to him, it'll just make it a longer grocery trip, and honestly, he just wants to go home with you. Point out who he's hiding from and say hi and watch the look of betrayal as he's turning red and grumbling.

-It takes him a bit, but after a few trips he starts to get the hang of things. He can tell the better meat cuts, and now knows to check the eggs to make sure they're not cracked. Sometimes, he texts you a picture of the vegetables you're looking for to make sure they're the right ones or to make sure they're your preferred ripeness if you're not there

The self checkout becomes his best friend, that way he doesn't have to worry about making small talk. He's screwed when he picks up meats, though, because the scale never picks up the weight properly, and then he's sweating waiting for one of the workers to come help him out.

-Refuses to let you carry the bags in, and is also one of those people who insist on loading up all the groceries on his arms at once. There will be no second trips to the car.

[icallhimjoey]

Reinvent Love

♥ ♥          Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader 

Summary: You and Joe are treading new waters. You’re no longer flatmates, but still close. More than friends, but nothing defined. Nothing labeled. Determined to not lose what you have, though. But, can you?

CW / disclaimer: rpf, fem!reader, language, adult themes, fluff, season 3 of my flatmate!joe

Author’s note: we're getting closer and closer to jealous!joe making some weird and questionable choices, best be prepared - and, again, you don’t need to have read define close or explain us, but it’ll obviously give you backstory, which might help!

Wordcount: 3.1K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

Joe jolted awake at the sudden loud vibrations of his phone on his bedside table. The loud abrasive sound of it felt almost offensive to the silence of the rest of his flat. Joe twisted his head towards the sound too quickly and hurt his neck in the process. It was pitch black dark in his bedroom still, and Joe instinctively knew he’d not been asleep for that long.

He answered his phone without looking.

“Hey,” Joe whispered, already turning over the other way, squinting open one eye to press the speaker button.

“Hi,” you croaked back, and from the rustling of covers on your end of the line, Joe knew you weren’t outside his flat, waiting to be let in.

That happened sometimes. Where you called Joe just to tell him to buzz you up. He’d open the door with small squinty eyes and would silently shake his head at how silly you were for taking an Uber in the middle of the night, just to get a few hours of sleep in his bed with him.

This happened sometimes, too. Middle of the night phonecalls from bed.

“Can’t sleep?”

“Mmno, my pillow is hurting my ear and giving me a headache.”

It was a weak excuse to call him, and also, a fat lie. You weren’t kept up by a painful ear or a headache. You were kept up by your own brain, thinking of all things stressful in your life, and it was rude how Joe wasn’t there so you’d have other things to focus on. Like his heartbeat. Or his breathing.

You heard how Joe inhaled deeply. Not quite a yawn, but it served the same purpose. The sound instantly made you feel better.

“You’ve got like...” Joe fell silent a second as he rubbed a hand over his face, and you knew it took him longer to think straight just because he was half asleep still. “...eight pillows.”

“Four.” You sighed, eyes closing to Joe’s low gruff voice, and you felt how your shoulders relaxed into your mattress more. It was unfair how you hadn’t even been aware of how tensed up they were. Unfair how the baritone of someone speaking just above a whisper had your muscles relaxing like that.

“Four pillows.” Joe corrected himself.

There were a lot of pillows, was his point, and he was right. And all were very soft, too. The one you were lying on probably just needed a little fluffing, Joe thought.

You remained silent, just wanting to hear Joe breathe. It was the reason why you’d called him in the first place. Something to focus on besides your own thoughts inside your own head.

“Hmm? Grab a different one.” Joe was still on the painful ear fix. “Get comfy. And get another one to hug.”

That was actually good advice.

Joe listened as he heard swishing of fabric again, the sound of your skin over your duvet cover and soft linen against the cotton of your sheets, muffling sounds loud against the microphone. It took you some actual effort to wrestle one of your pillows underneath your covers, your arms far too tired to get it sorted in one swift move.

“Yea? That better?” Joe asked once he heard you’d settled.

“Mmhm.”

“Good girl. Now stop thinking about bad things.”

Joe knew you hadn’t called because of issues with the fucking bedding. It was always something else that kept you up. That had made you sad. That had you worried. It was why he always answered, no matter the time. Why he always let you in when you had already made your way over, never complaining at your cold body warming itself up to his. Joe was a good sport and would always pull you close, tuck you right into him, your face either pushed into his neck or laid gently onto his chest so you could fall asleep to his heartbeat.

You could always sleep just fine if you just stopped thinking for a second.

“Okay.” You answered, and pretended that it was easy to just follow the order.

And then for a while, it was just quiet.

Joe was falling back asleep, his mind already drifting off when he suddenly got pulled back into his consciousness by you softly requesting for him to move his phone closer to his face.

“Can barely hear you...”

“This better?” Joe said after scooting down his pillow a little.

You listened to check.

“Yea, tha’s better.” You hummed, happy to hear Joe’s steady breathing a little clearer, tightening your arms around the pillow in your grasp. The slow and steady in and out helped tremendously. “Don’t hang up, okay? I’ll hang up.”

“Hmm. Go to sleep.” Joe instructed in whispers.

“Can’t.” you murmured, the because you’re not here remaining unsaid, but you already sounded like you were barely even awake still. “My room’s not right.”

Joe couldn’t even begin to try to process that in the moment.

“I got you.” he promised, every word taking more and more effort to make its way out of his mouth. “Won’t hang up.”

“Okay.”

Hours later Joe woke up to his alarm and a stupidly low phone battery. He quickly hung up, praying that his alarm hadn’t traveled down the line to wake you.

He ran both his hands down his face, rubbing and pulling his skin in all directions before deciding he was going to have to figure out how to fix this nightly-phonecall thing.

You didn’t call him every night, but it was enough for it to not be normal. And if that wasn’t everything he was going for lately... normal.

Normal was difficult. Hard. But ultimately worth it, he knew.

He sort of loved it, these needy phonecalls, Joe couldn’t deny. He liked you vulnerable. He liked taking care of you when you felt small. But he’d rather you’d get some actual normal sleep. That you didn’t need to go lay down the minute you’d get home from work only to struggle with it when you were meant to get a long stretch of hours in at night. Not that he didn’t love watching you curl up onto his sofa, knees pulled all the way up into your chest, as he worked on the other side of the room. But sorting out a normal sleeping schedule for you seemed healthy. Healthier than whatever you had going now, anyway.

And you agreed.

It was why you were right in the middle of hauling all of your bedroom furniture across the hall when Joe came over late afternoon the next day.

“What’s going on here?” Joe asked after letting himself in, the key to your flat still on his keyring. You’d started this bit of having Joe hand over the key every time he used it, but you’d slip it right back into his coat pocket when he wasn’t looking.

You popped up from behind a chest of drawers, hair all over the place, eyes sort of manic.

“I’m moving!” you smiled widely and walked around to push the dresser into its new spot.

“You’re– .... into my bedroom?” Joe questioned as he stepped aside to let you get past him.

“Correction,” you said, disappearing into the room that still held most of your things. “Into my bedroom.”

Joe turned his head from your old bedroom to your new one and frowned a little.

“You’re giving up the ensuite?”

Joe vaguely remembered you telling him your room not being right, but this... this was a choice he wouldn’t have made. Advice he wouldn’t have given. His old bedroom was smaller and had south-facing windows, which was fine in winter, but also meant you always had a couple of sweating-on-top-of-the-covers weeks in summer.

“I know - ahh, she’s gone mad!” you said in a high pitched funny voice, huffing a laugh straight after. “Will you help me with the bed?”

No further explanation was given, and Joe dared not ask. You were moving bedrooms, your new future flatmate was going to be getting the bigger bedroom with the ensuite, and that was that.

“Sure.”

Joe took his coat off and pushed the long sleeves of his T-shirt up his forearms. You seemed excited over the prospect of change, sort of enthusiastically eager, all giddy, which was new to Joe. When he’d moved out, you’d hidden yourself away in your bedroom the whole time, and he remembered how terrible he’d felt. Guilt would’ve eaten him alive that day if he hadn’t had been so busy with the actual move then.

This was definitely better, but this also felt like a spur of the moment thing that maybe you’d regret later.

Joe hoped the regret would come before a new flatmate would, so at least you would be given the time and space to right the wrongs.

But that didn’t mean that he couldn’t help now. He could let you learn from your own mistakes. And, you know, maybe this would also help the general sleep issues you had going.

“Ready?” he asked, squatting down right next to you, hands on the frame.

You smiled at him a second, and he smiled right back. You had to bite at the insides of your cheeks for it to ease.

“Ready.”

About forty-five minutes later, you stepped into what used to be your bedroom and took a jog around the empty space.

“So empty! Look at all this room– it’s, wait…. echo! No. There’s carpet here.”

You laughed at yourself.

Silly.

“Of course that doesn’t work. But look!”

You kicked a leg high up in the air and swung your arms around widely.

“I could like… I don’t know, do aerobics in here!”

You kicked and punched the air some more and turned your moves into a strange dance as you took big steps around the room.

“I don’t know how to do aerobics.”

But clearly, that didn’t stop you.

Joe watched you from his spot, leant in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest and a stupid grin spread across his face that he couldn’t even try to hide.

God. You were really fucking cute.

Look at you.

His chest could barely handle it, he felt like he was about to burst.

“You know aerobics? Sounds like robots. Aerobots. Air robots.”

Your movements turned into robotic dance moves, the classic stiff arms that you turned into plane wings as you spun around. Joe laughed, no longer able to contain his joy, head thrown back, mouth wide open, and you used the sound as raw fuel for your own giggles.

You spun until you were dizzy, and you felt like a child.

When your vision start swimming and the room kept spinning even after you’d stopped, you let yourself fall onto the dusty carpet, flopping down right in the middle of the room.

Joe watched you come down for a moment, and he sunk his teeth into his bottom lip as you stared up at the ceiling, slowly steadying your breathing.

When you turned your head to look at him, practically beaming still, it provoked him to launch himself onto the carpet right next to you. Joe pretended he was going to dive right on top of you, making you squeal and brace for impact, but he only bumped into your side as he laid down.

And then, for a short while, you just laid there, side by side, staring up at the ceiling. Eventually you turned your heads to look at each other.

“You’re cute.” Joe smiled, his hand finding yours to intertwine his fingers with, and it made you scrunch up your nose.

“I’m being weird.” You corrected him, curling your fingers to dig your nails into his skin.

“Tomayto, tomahto.” Joe meant, same thing, and used his other hand over yours, pushing to flatten your finger tips and you laughed as his face contorted from the effort.

“Potayto, potahto.” You parrotted, trying your best to mimic Joe’s deeper voice, making him chuckle once more.

You were winning the weird hand-battle you had going, and Joe ended up pulling both hands away when you started trying to move them towards your mouth, teeth already bared.

“Yea, all right. Just weird.” Joe prodded a finger into your side when you sat up, making you yelp and prod him right back in his thigh.

“Do you think I can charge my new flatmate more rent for giving them the larger room with the ensuite?” you asked, looking around once more.

“Um... you’ve never paid more for it.”

“That’s not what I asked.” you said pointedly. “I asked, do you think I can?” you looked at him over your shoulder and your eyes twinkled with a mischief Joe hadn’t seen from you in a while.

“Well...” Joe sucked air through his teeth. “Maybe find a new flatmate first before you–”

“I did!”

Joe slowly blinked at you.

“You did?”

“Yea. Josh.”

Joe felt it then. A little twang inside of his chest. Something small, but definitely painful. Like someone had a teeny tiny guitar in there and pulled the thickest snare, the heavy plunk of vibrations slowly fading out, but never completely going.

Just a small little something that said, no, and it lingered.

And you were so nonchalant about it. Yea. Josh. Like it hadn’t just unearthed something disgustingly ugly inside of Joe. Like it hadn’t just bitten off and swallowed up a huge chunk of his joy. Like it wasn’t even a big deal at all.

Josh.

You shrugged up one shoulder, turning on the spot as you criss crossed your legs, explaining that one of your friends had given him your number to contact you about the flatshare. And yea, you’d been a little apprehensive, because a friend of a friend moving in and turning out to be a bad flatmate had every potential to ruin said friendship. But he’d stopped by that morning, and he seemed sort of normal. He also wasn’t 19 and hadn’t tried to get a sweet deal on his rent, which was refreshing.

“He’s moving in next week.”

Joe’s mind went all sorts of places then, but he managed to keep a straight face as he reached up to pull some dust from your hair.

“If you want to charge him more, maybe you should hoover first.” Joe held the fluffy piece of grey in between two fingers to show you.

“We can do that later.” You slapped one of Joe’s legs and used it to push yourself up onto your feet.

“We? Excuse me, I know I look extremely muscular–” that made you snort, which Joe skillfully ignored, “–but I came over for pizza and a film, not for hard manual labour! I’ve already done too much!”

Joe was not going to hoover Josh’s new bedroom for him.

He also thought you shouldn’t do that.

Josh could take care of that himself.

He was a big boy, surely.

Josh.

“Okay.” you smiled, holding out a hand to help Joe up. “Pizza and a film, then.”

And Joe immediately felt silly. He was going to spend the evening in his favourite spot, on the corner of your sofa, doing his favourite activity, sharing a pizza with you, and, you know, maybe Josh was actually really kind. You were a good judge of character, of course Josh was going to be kind. Joe had no business having an opinion of the man before even having met him.

He had moved out, hadn’t he?

That had been his choice.

His decision.

Rational thought was enough to will the uneasy feeling away. Rational thought dampened it enough to where he could no longer feel where exactly it sat within him, and he was able to swallow the sour taste it had left in his mouth.

But then Joe made sure to let you choose a pizza, let you get one with toppings that you really liked. Made sure to let you choose a film, something he’d never turn on had he been by himself.

Joe let you sit right in the corner of the L-shaped sofa, let you have the best spot.

Joe made sure it was a little more obvious that he thought of you first, and that he let himself be just an afterthought.

You happily accepted every sweet gesture and when you slung a leg over Joe’s lap after wrapping both your arms around one of his, Josh was no longer on his mind.

Just you.

How warm you felt. How soft you were. How much he loved this.

Loved you.

You hugged his bicep and watched the film Joe didn’t like, but the evening was perfect, because he got to press his nose into your hair as he held your thigh in place with both his hands. He hoped you’d fall asleep soon, just so he could stare at your soft features for however long he wanted without making you feel weird about it.

He was meant to home and sleep in his own bed tonight, another early morning for which his alarm had already been set.

But, fuck it.

If he was going to fall asleep on your sofa tonight, he was just going to fall asleep on your sofa tonight.

And if he was going to wake up hours later with a sore neck and painful knees from overstretching for too long, he was just going to have a sore neck and painful knees for a bit.

And then, if he would decide to pick you up from the sofa and carry you over to bed, he would just pick you up from the sofa and carry you to bed.

Slip right in there with you.

Why not?

Just for tonight. Because somehow, leaving you to sleep all alone, all by yourself in that big empty bed of yours, felt impossible right now.

If he wanted to pretend, just for a little while, that all your stuff was still in your bedroom and that all his stuff was still in his, he was just going to pretend. Just for a little while.

Joe had made his bed, had moved out and forced you to get a new flatmate, and now he was forced to go and lie in it.

But not tonight.

Tonight he could lie in your bed and pretend it was his own. His old bed in his old room that you had snuck into when he was already asleep.

Just for a little while.

Just for tonight.

---

The Taglisted

@ali-in-w0nderland, @alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson, @choke-me-eddie, @demonsanddemogorgons, @did-it-work, @dirtyeddietini, @djoseph-quinn, @dolcevit4, @eddies-puppet, @emma-munson, @emotionaldreamer, @everythinghasafacee, @figmentofquinn, @ghost-proofbaby, @ghostinthebackofyourhead, @hanahkatexo, @harringtonfan4, @hazelenys, @jewellethief, @joesquinns, @keikoraven, @kennedy-brooke, @lovelyblueness, @manda-panda-monium, @mandyjo8719, @mexicanfolklore, @munsonluvrr, @munson-mjstan, @nadixq, @nglharry, @notverywise, @pepperstories, @phyllosilicate-s, @royale1803, @sherrylyn628, @sidthedollface2, @solzi1420, @songforeddiemunson, @sweetberry47, @take-everything-you-can, @thebellenouvelle, @tlclick73, @werepartnersnow, @winterwakesthewolf, @witchwolflea, @yelyahcardella, @yunirgo

taglist currently full, sorry

[wrathofrats]

WRATH YOUR TAGS ON THE SWISSALPS??? HOW DARE YOUUUU IM IN SHAMBLES FUCKKKKK IM GONNA KMS IF U DONT WRITE IT PLEASEEEEEEE

LMAO HI DONT DO THAT I GOT U BESTIE

Original post

I got carried away and blacked out and it became 2k, idk what happened either.

Swiss is so inexperienced and very anxious and mountain is the sweetest actually. This is so awkward because these two are dorks so good luck.

Small small mentions of blood but it’s taken as a joke.

It wasn’t long after Swiss was summoned that he truly started to understand the bands dynamic. Day in and day out of watching his pack mates eye each other like a piece of meat, constant touching and flirting and there was many parts of Swiss that yearned to be included in it.

He didn’t feel ready. Half split between feeling left out as the two ghoulettes he came with have been bonded and together since summon, and the other ghouls really seemed to take to them after a couple days anyways. It wasn’t like no one took to him, but he’s never propositioned, desired, at least not in his line of sight. He feels like he would be intruding if he were to say anything. So he waits.

The other half worries partially about being inexperienced. Never used a human body, barely has even touched himself and god he’s probably embarrassing, no one wants to be with someone so inexperienced right?

He continues to think about it. Fuck he practically studies the other ghouls and sex and whatever the fuck they’re doing together because when the time comes he doesn’t want to embarrass himself. He’s genuinely afraid he will just get laughed out of the room if he’s not ready though he’s sure he’s probably acting insane.

Truly Swiss has no clue what to think.

He sits on his bed, tosses a toy around in his hands. Nothing insane, something normal sized since he’s a beginner but he worries about it anyways. Hypothetically he knows where it’s supposed to go but

How?

He has no clue.

“I’ve seen dew take two before” rain smirks “shouldve seen him around me and aether, didn’t know the tight whore could do it!”

Does Swiss need to be able to take two?

He rolls the dildo in his hands again and gulps.

Maybe that’s a lesson for another day.

“Rain talks a big game but you should see how whiny he gets when he’s got a drop of blood in front of his nose. Had him drinking from my wrist the other day, he’d do anything for it” aether laughs

He almost winced hearing about it the first time. Never really considered… that being a part of things but ….. he can accept it if he has to, if that’s what the others want.

Swiss is probably getting ahead of himself.

He takes a deep breath and lays down in his bed, just stares at the toy in question because he really isn’t sure what to do with it. There’s no question of what he has to do but he doesn’t understand.

There’s a point where Swiss just decides to rip the bandaid off, reaches between his hiked up legs and pushes it into the tight ring of muscle.

It hurts, burns, doesn’t go in more than a millimeter and he thinks he’s probably fucked it up somehow or maybe he’s just awful or whatever other reason but he decides to simply give up for the night. The worries left to eat at him for the next day.

The morning is really no better for his mind. Stands at the kitchen counter lost in thought before anyone else comes in, the boisterous laughter breaking him out of his anxiety induced trance.

“Feeling ok sunbeam?” Mountain gives him a worried look, standing next to him to lean on the marble.

“Yeah! Didn’t sleep well, I’m fine”

“Well if you ever want help sleeping just let me know” mountain winks at him.

Was that?

It couldn’t be. Right?

Did mountain just finally proposition to fuck him?

He can’t say no. He’s come too far and wanted it too bad so he has to go to his room tonight right?

Questions race around Swiss’ brain. He’s the bottom right? Mountain is like a foot taller than him so that has to be it? But what if he that’s not correct and mountain gets offended? What if the rest of the pack hears and hates him? What if-

He desperately needs his brain to shut the fuck up.

The hours pass like molasses. Swiss swears every time he checks his watch after he’s sure it’s been an hour it’s really only been 10 minutes.

What time is he even supposed to go up there?

God he wishes more than anything he could stop this anxiety.

Swiss decides around 10 pm is good. Late enough for a reasonable bedtime but early enough he knows mountain won’t actually be asleep.

Mountain is shirtless, wearing low grey sweatpants when he answers the door. Swiss thinks he may be drooling but attempts to collect himself enough to speak.

“Didn’t think you’d actually come up here, been waiting for you to come to one of us sunbeam” mountain chuckles and motions through the open door to invite him in.

“Been waiting for you myself, hard to ignore such a big guy like you” Swiss pushes himself against mountain. He’s heard in pornos that men like to be called big. That was right to say, right?

“Didn’t know you were so eager” mountain smiles and lightly shoves Swiss onto the bed, straddling his small waist against the sheets.

“Course I’m eager, been waiting for this for ages, want to drink the blood from your wrist” Swiss winks.

Mountain sits up, “what?” He looks at him confused.

Did Swiss do it wrong? Aether made it seem like that was normal….

“I- um …. Yeah, want you to fuck me stupid, make me your whore?” He loses all confidence to his voice, looks scared to even say it and the concerned expression on mountains faces turns to laughter. So he really did fuck it up huh.

“Swiss…… have you done this before?” Mountain gets out between laughs.

Swiss should probably get up, leave with his tail between his legs and god he’s going to be laughed of the band for this,

“No… I’m sorry I ruined it I’ll go-“

“No! You don’t have to do that. Didn’t expect you to know.” Mountain smiles at him “come here, can I teach you? You sure you want this?”

A large hand caresses Swiss’s waist. Mountain moves him against the pillows, studying his language for any sign of hesitation or regret.

“Please” Swiss mumbles

It’s cute to watch him suddenly so shy, came in like a speeding bullet but now can’t look mountain in the eye.

“How much do you know? Have you ever touched yourself sunbeam?” Oh the tone to mountains voice should not be turning Swiss on but god it’s deep and gravely and yeah Swiss definitely may be desperate.

“No.. I tried but I don’t … know how? I’m sorry-“

“Don’t apologize, you’re ok, you’re safe here”

Swiss does feel safe. Safe enough to let mountain undress him, gently lift his shirt over his head and unbutton his pants.

“I’m going to touch you, alright? Tell me immediately if you start to feel strange” mountain caresses his cheek, staring into his warm brown eyes before reaching down for his hardening cock. It doesn’t take much for it to stiffen up fully, just a couple of touches and Swiss is hard against his stomach, still watching for mountains next move.

“There we go, gonna move your knees up. Is it ok if I put my fingers in you? Need to stretch you out if you still want me to fuck you”

Swiss just nods in agreement, bites his lip in favor of speaking and watches as mountain pours some kind of thick liquid onto his fingers.

“Just lube, it’s going to help”

It feels weird at first, more like some kind of intrusion than any mind numbing pleasure he’s heard about it. Swiss moans anyways, doesn’t want to hurt mountains feelings if it’s really supposed to feel good.

“Swiss…. It’s ok it’s not supposed to feel good yet, you don’t have to fake it for me” mountain laughs at the multi ghouls rapidly reddening face

“Besides, you won’t have to fake it here soon”

It’s embarrassing that a drop of pre bubbles at his tip just from that sentence. Mountains smile doesn’t drop, only a little cocky from the situation.

After three fingers mountain starts to push deeper, rolling them up instead of scissoring and-

Oh.

Swiss nearly yelps, vision blurs and jumps off the bed when mountain hits something inside of him.

“There you go, did you like that?” He laughs. God he needs mountain to stop laughing at him, needs his cock to stop jumping at his laughter too.

“Think you’re ready? Still ok?”

“Please” Swiss whines

The first inch feels wrong again. Nothing like when he did it the other night but mountain is much bigger than his toy and it honestly feels like it may be too much. He holds his breath, the stretch knocking the air from his lungs anyways but he grips the sheets and waits for mountain to sink the rest of the way in.

It’s overly slow, mountain being overly caring as always but he can feel every inch carve its way into him and he just waist for mountain to be down so he can collect himself.

“You’re ok, promise I’ll make you feel so good alright? You’re doing so well”

Swiss mentally notes the way his words make him see stars. That’s a kink to deal with another day.

“Gonna move ok?”

The outward thrust feels like it takes years, before mountain quickly moves back in him, trying to loosen him up before really taking him and mountain deserves an award in patience for being able to control himself for so long with Swiss so hot and tight around him.

“Fuck mount- feels- mountain-” Swiss gasps once mountain gets to pace. Eyes closed tight and mouth agape. Soft moans and whimpers escaping his lips and Swiss throws his hand over his mouth to attempt to silence himself.

Mountain quickly grabs his wrists, holding them above his head, “wanna hear you, wanna hear what I’m doing to you, fuck- Swiss want you to be loud for me”

A hot pit forms in Swiss’s stomach, burns in his abdomen and has his eyes crossing with the feeling,

“Mountain- I think I’m getting close I- please i think I’m going to-“ Swiss doesn’t even get the sentence out before he’s spilling hot and thick all over his stomach.

“There you go, fuck Swiss, so good feel so fucking good wrapped around me”

Mountain cums not moments later, pulls out and jacks himself onto the sheets as to not be ungentleman like for Swiss’s first time.

“Feeling alright Swiss?”

“Holy fucking shit I get it now”

[luna-rainbow]

Do you think Bucky ever got any sleep during all his years of Hydra captivity? Or was it just wipe/kill/back in the freezer? I don't think cryostasis would be anything like normal restorative REM sleep.

Hello nonnie!! I have finally had a light-bulb moment for this ask (I'm sorry it's taken me like 7 months)

I've been going about it the wrong way, trying to research on sleep, when in actuality what I should have been researching is the brain under hypothermia. This is an observational study conducted in the 1980s looking at children undergoing induced hypothermia (lowering of body temperature) during cardiopulmonary bypass (sometimes required during major surgery). In summary, by the time the body temperature cooled to 18 degrees, all brain activity ceased. Sleep - consisting of non-REM and particularly REM - are associated with far more active brain waves. So nonnie, you are very correct in saying that Bucky, even with his super soldier abilities, unlikely ever got any "sleep" during cryostasis. (I'm sorry to all the ficcers that wrote Bucky dreaming during cryo but I think most people are happy to ignore this piece of science)

In terms of whether Bucky ever got "sleep", I think that is hard to say. Even normal soldiers might drive themselves to go without sleep for 36+ hours if required for a mission (heck, even hospital shifts go for 36 hours in some places). As a super soldier, Bucky might tolerate sleep deprivation for longer. This means missions like taking out the Starks - travelling from Russian and back - he might achieve in one sitting without sleeping in between (although I guess no one can stop him from dozing off on the plane).

I think one implied part of your question is "is it likely that Bucky was allowed out of the freezer for long enough periods at a time to need (and get) sleep"? I feel like that is unlikely, judging from the "he's been out of cryo for too long" line from CATWS. The timeline goes: day 1 Bucky makes assassination attempts daytime + night time against Fury / day 2 Steve makes a run down to Jersey arriving there at night / day 3 Bucky attacks Steve on the causeway and then we get the nighttime vault scene where Bucky is "unstable". Even if we add a day or two prior to allow for prepping, that still means Bucky becomes "unstable" and questions his identity within a bare week of being out of cryo.

Credit @lost-shoe (this post)

Now onto the angst...we know anaesthetics is not like restful sleep, so theoretically neither is cryostasis. While the science of cryostasis doesn't exist at the moment, we know from artificial hypothermia in surgical situations that it puts incredible stress on the body and all its organs. Looking at the laboratory derangements during hypothermia it looks like it pushes the body over to anaerobic metabolism and causes lactate to go up. You know when you go for a run and your muscles cramp up because you haven't warmed up enough? That's because your muscles have produced too much lactate from anaerobic metabolism. So...no wonder Bucky can't stand when he comes out of the cryo chamber. It also increases one's bleeding risk and reduces one's healing speed, so take of that what you will for your Whumptober prompts 😂

I also wonder whether, because the brain is not receiving any REM sleep during cryo, it means Bucky has been in a constant state of sleep deprivation for the last 70 years. The theory of "prefrontal vulnerability" in sleep deprivation proposes that functions like language, executive functions, divergent thinking, and creativity are particularly affected, so that can contribute to Bucky's inability to process/produce complex language and his slowness when it comes to working through complex problems. It also has significant effect on memory and attention: it's interesting to note that during sleep deprivation of more than 35 hours, they found that while free recall was affected, recognition was not. (Disclaimer for science: small sample size, opposite result for subjects with sleep deprivation ~24 h).

So yeah, I think there are practical reasons why Hydra would not allow Bucky to have restorative sleep between missions. Consolidation of long term memory (i.e. transferring them from short term storage into long term storage) usually happens during sleep which means it is quite likely Bucky remembers only broken bits of his time (if at all) in the last 7 decades.

[bonefall]

Epilepsy anon back again! Basically, a tonic-clonic seizure is spelled that way because it refers to its two phases: the tonic phase, where the muscles go stiff, the person goes unconscious, and falls down; and the clonic phase, where the convulsions begin. There are also tonic seizures, characterized by sudden stiffness, and atonic seizures characterized by a sudden loss of muscle strength. Clonic seizures are possible without a tonic phase, but they’re really rare. They’re called tonic-clonic seizures because of the order that they take place in— the tonic phase comes before the clonic phase! I’ve seen a few sources indicate that if the clonic phase were to come first, it would actually be a clonic-tonic-clonic seizure because the way the seizures generalize (spread from a localized area of the brain out into the rest of the brain) basically ensure that the tonic-clonic pattern plays out. I haven’t been able to find any mention of a clonic-tonic seizure! I hope that this is helpful, and thank you again for including epileptic characters in your AU! I suffer from tonic-clonic seizures just like Shadowsight, and it’s so nice to see common misconceptions refuted!

Publishing this ask now so all can see it; when I get some free time I'll try and head back and correct the order of any time I put clonic before tonic!

[akingdomscrypt]

This is a short, unedited piece of one of the future fics that's been running rampant through my mind and I needed to write this out. Character isn't mentioned obvi since the first fic chapter isn't even out yet- I just had to write this. Enjoy.

CW: slight pet play (literally just the word 'puppy'), collaring, and uhhhh that's it? Super short, nothing sexual.

There was a bit of rustling, the sound of metal on leather, then the shuffling of rubber soled feet that told you he was making his way back to you. You stood stock still, a blend of nerves and anticipation making your heart thump erratically against your ribcage. And if you didn't know any better, you'd say the lump of muscle was trying to escape, rip itself right out of your chest.

But you did know better—though it had taken some time, and you still had a long way to go—, and had come to identify this particular emotion as excitement.

The way you were rocking back and forth on your feet a bit was also a dead give away, but that's besides the point.

A few more heavy steps—intentional, you knew, to tell you he was approaching—and he was directly behind you. Able to feel the bubble of warmth that seemed to surround the other man at all times against your own skin, even through your clothes.

“Breath,” he murmurs, voice low and soft. Carrying just the barest hints of amusement.

You hadn't noticed how little you'd actually been, well.. breathing until the man mentioned it. Only then sucking in a shuttering gulp of much needed air, the sound accompanied with your boyfriend's rumbling chuckle.

“Alright?” He asks.

Your nodding is halted by a heavy hand being placed on the scruff of your neck, not squeezing but just enough pressure to ground you back into the moment.

“Ah, ah,” he tuts. “None of that. Use your words.”

It's a small correction—and a fairly common one—, but the taste of disapproval is still bitter on your tongue. A feeling that has you quickly fixing your minor mistake.

“Right.” You breathe, becoming pliant putty under his hold. “Yes. I'm good.”

He hums a small noise of approval, a sound, no matter how brief, that has your heart fluttering, making you stand up a little straighter.

You mourn the loss of his hand when it leaves, but the other doesn't keep you waiting long. A thick, heavy duty strip of black leather resting in those familiar, work-hardened palms as he brings both arms on either side of you.

The sight has your breath catching, renewed sparks of excitement buzzing just beneath your skin when you catch that little flash of metal. An intricate looping of letters engraved into the thin metal, set snug into the thick leather.

Right below that, a ring. Perfect for tugging on—a thought that has a light flush warming your cheeks.

“Ready?” he asks, only after letting you inspect it for a moment.

Your reply is instant this time, and verbal. “Yes.”

Which earns you another noise of approval that you savor immensely.

“Good.” He rumbles. “I'm going to put it on now.”

He moves slowly, cautiously, giving you time to back off if you need to. Always so conscious of your triggers.

The first press of smooth leather against your throat has you tensing up, instinctively trying to fight the idea of being restricted like this, but not a second longer and you're relaxing into it. Accepting.

Soon the sound of you two's gentle breathing is accompanied by the soft click and slide of him latching the collar. Its weight is a welcomed feeling around your throat, a sensation that already has your brain growing fuzzy around the edges.

“That's it..” he utters, voice low but unbelievably soothing in its gruffness. One hand on the side of your neck, gently stroking a finger over the metal etching, the other comes up, tilting your head back with a light press beneath your chin. “That's my good boy.”

Then, impossibly softer, his voice now mere centimeters away, warm breath brushing against your ear, “..my good puppy.”

---

Will definitely be heavily edited/much more shit to make it more descriptive and add more plot when the actual fic comes out and I get to that chapter.

[kodared]

Oh dearest heart. I love your howdy Angst.

And since I'm a sucker for pure angst. Could I request idk some more? If you don't mind that is! Romantic or platonic I would just like to cry over this caterpillar

I actually really love these requests you all have! And ill also be combining this ask with a previous one I received Because I like meshing prompts together for a good plot, 

This can be either Romantic or Platonic! 

!! CONTENT WARNING: BLOOD AND HOME HOLDING YOU HOSTAGE !!

Howdy x GN!Reader 

Angst/Comfort

Word Count: 3123 

Hope you Enjoy! ~ ʕ　˵·ᴥ·ʔ

You had finally moved into the town of your dreams, it was a small village just out of civilization and it seemed perfect for your dreams of being a gardener. As you drove down the icy highway your car felt as if it was gliding while you bobbed along to your songs, thoughts of sunshine and warmth circulating your mind as you daydreamed what your neighbours would be like. 

One thing you didn't notice was how your wheels seemed to take on a mind of their own. You tried desperately to correct it, your hands shaking as adrenaline took hold of your veins with its icy grip.

It did nothing to stop your car from shrieking off the road, rolling down the ditch before finally crashing into the forest, your vision fading before you could process what had happened. 

It would take a miracle to save you. 

Your brain felt like it was underwater as you felt something firmly grasping your shoulder, your vision fading in and out repetitively, you were unable to lift your head from the wheel as you tried to piece together the passing conversation. 

…  “Hol..i..  got.. ‘Em!..” 

The loud noise that proceeded after led you to mumble incoherently in protest, not realizing the sheer extent of the damage you had done to yourself. 

“Shh.. you… Oka…” 

Your head again tried to lift itself off the airbag to get a view of who was talking to you, but your head felt sticky... ‘Where am I?’

That was your last thought before you passed out cold. Finally succumbing to the darkness that wrapped a warm blanket around your self conscious. 

—-------------------

You woke up coughing, your head lolling to the side on the pillow it rested on. Since when were you home, was it all a bad dream? 

As your vision cleared, the mustard yellow walls assured you that this was not your house or even your room. 

You tried to elevate yourself with your elbows before collapsing again as your head pounded in protest, clearly not keen on allowing you to get up, so you opted for looking around from your spot on the bed for clues as to where you were. 

All you saw were framed pictures… of a bug? Or was that a man?

Whatever medicine the hospital had you on where seriously making you trip absolute balls you thought as your head hit the pillow once more, letting out an exhausted sigh while you shut your eyes. 

You heard footsteps approaching the door after a few minutes, and you sat up again trying to compose yourself to greet the doctor... 

…What you saw certainly wasn't a doctor. 

He was without a doubt tall, like not tall for your standards, he was tall in a way that made him definitely not human. Not to mention the second set of arms and legs accompanied by his green skin, he looked like the bug in the pictures. 

Then it all made sense, you were kidnapped by a bug man and most definitely going to die. 

You pushed yourself off of your elbows and sat up completely, pulling your legs up ready to run at a moment's notice, he raised his hands in surprise. 

… At least the hands he could hold up, his second set where holding a bowl of... Soup? 

“ah! Calm down, you’re alright’, I mean you no harm... Mx..?” 

He gestured his hand as he pondered your name, he seemed to be honest so without moving a muscle or breaking eye contact, you responded, 

“Y/..!” 

You broke out in a fit of coughing before you could finish, however, Curling in on yourself as your lungs felt as if they were lit on fire. 

The bug man made a startled noise before setting the soup down on his dresser and moving to sit beside you. You made no protest as he soothingly patted your back, the final cough left you shuddering in relief as the burning went away for now. 

“You were saying?” 

“my names Y/N..”    

You didn't quite trust him yet. But what choice did you have? He wasn't exactly threatening even if he was tall with multiple limbs. The apron he was wearing only cemented this sentiment, it was a baby pink with the lines ‘Kiss the Luv’Bug!’  Embroidered across the hem. 

Needless to say, his outfit didn't exactly make him come across as threatening. 

His hand still rested atop your back as shudders proceeded to wrack your spine, a cold chill making you chitter your teeth softly, moving to pull the blanket back over you. 

If he was going to hurt you he definitely wouldn't have made you soup or brought you to his house, so you decided to give him a pinch of your trust… for now. 

He offered you a warm smile as you eased back into the bed, he moved to give you space as he walked back to the soup and grasped it with his upper arms, his lower moving to unfold a bedside table as he spoke, 

“Pleasure to meet you Y/N, my names Howdy, Howdy Pillar owner of Howdys Goods and Services!” 

‘His name certainly matched’,    you thought as he set the table down beside you, setting the still-warm soup on top of it. 

“I found ya’ a day ago, you were certainly banged up,” 

As he straightened up after setting down the soup, his head cocked to the side as his eyebrows made lines appear in his skin..? Or was it fabric, you didn't know the proper term anyways. 

“Speakin’ of which, What exactly were ya in Y/N? I aint never seen anything like it,”

…Did he not know what a car was? 

It made sense to you, he might as well be an alien with how different he was from you, you were shocked you both even speak the same language. 

“Oh, that's a car, I was driving to my new house and it spun out of control,” 

Your hand would have raised to smooth your hair down but your arm burned as it moved, With one glance you saw you had been stitched up and all the glass was removed from your skin. The only way you could tell glass had been there were the small indents it left in its wake. 

“..Speaking of which where is here?”

Howdys eyebrows went back to their usual relaxed expression as he spoke fondly of where you were located at the moment. From what you could gather you were in the middle of a town just not the one you were aiming for. 

“Ah.. Is there any way for me to get home? I spent a lot of money moving and I would hate to lose my deposit.” 

Not to mention your friends and family would certainly be concerned as to where you are. Your mom was supposed to meet you with the moving truck today to move the rest of your furniture in, your car could only hold so much after all. 

“I'll see what I can do to getcha home, for now, you need to rest, your wounds aint gonna heal themselves” 

Howdy was made of fabric so you didn't correct him on the fact they literally did heal themselves, focusing more on his warm expression as he handed you a spoon from his Apron pocket. 

You had no complaints as you ate, Howdy left to give you privacy and once you finished you collapsed back down on the bed, curling on your side and looking out of the window Howdy had in his room. 

Was it always so colourful outside? 

—-------------------

It took a lot of time to heal and settle yourself down into the routine you had adapted to. After intense research with one of the fellow townspeople named “Frank”, even after all these months, there was still no sign you could ever return home. 

The thought concerned you to your core, of course, you often worried about your mom and friends that were left behind. Howdy however never relented in his hospitality and always offered you a place to stay in his Shop, and who were you to decline? 

You've grown to be rather fond of the man after all these months, he even helped you make your garden on the side of the shop, which is where you found yourself now. 

You were currently occupied with a suspiciously stubborn carrot that just wanted to stay underground it seemed, the warm air practically suffocated you in the summer heat while you tugged at the carrot. 

You thought you were never going to get it out until finally with a final tug it popped out! 

…And hit one of your yellow neighbours right in the head. 

You ran over to Wally, flustered out of your mind as words of apology tumbled out of your mouth. Wally was practically the mayor of the town, so you treaded on eggshells around him to stay on his good side, not that he seemed particularly evil. 

“Ahahah don't fret y/n, this carrot did no damage to me,” 

His relaxed cat-like smile extended as he picked up the carrot and handed it gently back to you, 

“Sorry again Wally! I don't know what made it so stubborn..” 

Once more he looked at you, if he had eyebrows you could tell he would be worried, evident by the way his normally droopy eyelids lifted up just a tad. 

“say y/n why don't you take a break? you seem exhausted, me and home could make you some cold lemonade!” 

Lemonade honestly sounded like a godsend you thought as you vigorously nodded, Wally noticed your enthusiasm and laughed along, his laugh wasn't creepy but it certainly was unique.

“alright! meet me and Home in a few minutes, it will be ready soon!” 

With one final wave he was off, the heat must have even been getting to him because as he left he unbuttoned his top slightly and fanned at his face, you didn't even know puppets could get hot but here you were. 

You walked back into the Shop after gathering up what you could harvest today, Howdy as always greeted you from behind the counter, his head shooting up from under the table and hitting the corner. 

THUMP* “Ow…! Hey Y/N! 

A giggle left your lips before you could stifle it, Howdys face turned a dark blue-green as he blushed, clearly embarrassed. 

“So! What did ya gather today?” 

“Just some carrots and tomatoes, One carrot flung up and hit Wally as he walked past,” 

Your bashful smile returned, Howdy was very accustomed to it by now and thought it was adorable, you had the tendency to be clumsy after all. 

“Anyway, he offered to have me over for some lemonade so ill be back soon!” 

You set the basket of crops down and gave Howdy a wave as you walked out, Howdy made quick work of sorting the food with his second set of hands, his upper moving to wave you goodbye. 

As you walked your hands found themselves resting atop your scars from the car crash. Goosebumps travelled up and down your arms as you felt where your skin had mended itself and left a bump in its wake, you still remember Howdys amazed face as you explained how your skin healed itself. 

As you approached the affectionately titled “home”, something felt wrong. The eyes that normally rested in the house's windows were now gone, replaced by curtains as black ink spilled from the bottom of the sill. 

You paid no mind to it, however, shaking off your paranoia as you approached and walked up the steps, moving to knock at the door, 

Before you could though it swung open, a black window curtain taking hold of your raised arm and pulling you in. 

You were met with darkness surrounding you. Wally was no were in sight as well, his chair sitting empty in the center of the room, your hands desperately holding onto the arms of the chair for leverage. 

You tried your best to calm your breathing, frightened and scared. 

“Ahah... This isn't funny Wally, where are you?” 

You were of course met with silence as you felt something taking hold of your ankle and pulling you up, dangling you above the floor. Your sense of gravity altered as nausea made its way into your system, the feeling of acid rising in your throat very evident. 

All you heard was the squeaking of hinges. You knew this as a sign of home talking, Wally however was the only one who could understand the building, so you hung in confusion. 

“Look! I don't know what you want but put me down!” 

Your legs kicked as you tried to desperately free yourself, Home did what you asked though. 

You hadn't realized how high up you were. 

—-------------------

Howdy was idly restocking his shelves as you left, paying no mind to his surroundings as the methodical task of organizing took over, his antennae twitching and moving to the beat of a song he had stuck in his mind. 

He enjoyed having you around but even when you weren't he could manage his time well, he had a shop to still run after all. 

…Even if he was daydreaming of dancing with you to the beat of the song in his head…

But that  ‘wasn't his main task’  he reminded himself as he moved quickly around the store, placing things in their usual spots. 

As the sun went down he was still surprised to see you were gone, he had grown to know you a lot over the months and knew you enjoyed hanging out with people, but you enjoyed your alone time more. 

You had called yourself an introvert he recalled, so without much thought he flipped his sign to Closed, hung up his hat and Apron, and walked out of the store, travelling to check up on you. 

Howdy hadn't expected to hear the sounds of his friend's panicked yelling as he walked down the sidewalk, he took off in a sprint towards Wally's house. 

Wally was one of the first people he saw outside, along with Barnaby, Poppy, and Frank. 

“Wally?! I thought you were with Y/N?!” 

The smaller puppet looked up at Howdy, if he was capable of it he would be crying as he spoke, his voice wavering. 

“I just left to get lemons.. Home doesn't like y/n..!” 

Howdy felt his metaphorical blood run cold. He turned to look at home and realized what Wally meant. 

“Well we need to get them outta’ there! They could be hurt!” 

…Or worse. As Howdys mind went to the worst he realized what that could mean. 

You had told Howdy what could happen if a Human sustained too many injuries, Humans couldn't be stitched back together after their heart stopped. 

Howdy felt his fists clenching as the sounds around him stopped existing in his ears, if his friends were saying anything he didn't care. 

He wouldn't let you die. 

—-------------------

Your arms popped as Home pulled you once again in the air. You had no idea how long this went on, but by now you could feel the bruises already forming on your joints. 

“Home.. just let me go..” 

You had pleaded and begged with the house for hours by now, your hands weakly grasping onto the curtains that held your wrist. You knew you couldn't escape, so you could only hope to hold out until someone noticed you were gone. If they ever did. 

Just as you felt the curtain loosening its grip and you braced for impact once again. 

The window shattered. 

You were dropped on the hard floor once more. Your ankle cracked unpleasantly as you let out a scream of pain, you heard a very familiar voice shouting through the shattered window.

“LET THEM GO!” 

It was Howdy. He had come to rescue you. Your heart fluttered with relief, your eyes opening to look out of the broken window, seeing his angered face as he fought the curtains holding his arms back from causing any more damage. 

You couldn't let him get hurt for your sake.  You stood on shaky feet as you tried to run towards him, the curtains letting go of Howdy and refocusing their attention on you. 

Home tried to fling you against the wall once more, Howdy though was quicker and grabbed your hand, successfully pulling you from home's grasp and out of the window. 

He tried to be as gentle as possible, trying to not strain your already damaged muscles, the sight of you almost made him burn home to the ground. 

Your skin was littered with bruises and scratches where you had once healed, your body had worked so hard to mend and resew itself only for home to damage you and ruin it. 

If it wasn't for you desperately clinging to his shirt, begging incoherently to go home, he would have done more damage to home. But without a second thought, he picked you up from the ground and sprinted back to the shop. 

You and Howdy made it back to the shop, Howdy walking into the back room of the Bodega to set you on top of your shared bed, frantically moving around looking for a first aid kit. 

“Howdy’m alright, I just want to lie down.” 

Howdy stopped moving around as your voice shook, your body shaking like a leaf as you curled desperately under the blanket for warmth. You knew you were hurt, but you desperately wanted comfort. 

He seemed to know this too as he walked to the bed and lowered himself to lay beside you, his arms wrapping around you in a firm hug while you sobbed into his chest. 

Howdy was worried for you, but if he could provide you comfort that would come first. 

“Y/N.. I'm so happy you're okay..” 

He tried his best to steady his voice as he craned his neck to look down at you, your face was flushed and tears freely ran down your face as your body shuddered with every breath. 

“I am too.. Thank you Howdy. Words cant even begin to describe-” 

Your breath went frantic again as you sobbed into his shirt, his arms wrapping tighter around you, he knew anxious humans liked pressure from you, and he tried his best to apply his knowledge to help. 

He could feel your heart beating as he rested his hands on your back, it was a sign you were alive, and it made Howdy comforted. 

It would take a long time to recover, and Howdy knew this. 

But he would be there every step of the way to help you. 

-------------------------------

Hope you Enjoyed!! As always keep the Requests coming! I'm also open to Headcanons and other Drabbles!

Upcoming Prompt! : - Howdy x Dog Groomer Reader! Fluff <3

Till next time ! ~ ʕ♡˙ᴥ˙♡ʔ

[airlockfailure]

Hi Airlock! For the OC asks... Could I please ask these for both Cobalt AND Taar?? (Even after all this time, Cobalt and Taar are still on my mind. The image in my head of Cobalt grabbing Taar's belt will NEVER leave me 🥺🫠🫠🫠)

👻 - What’s their biggest fear?

💭 - What do they think about the most?

💫 - What are/were their plans for “after the War”?

Thank you so much!!

Hi hi! :D

Cobalt's biggest fear is letting people down. Which, you can imagine, happens frequently. This isn't something he can avoid. It's a constant, prickling anxiety and reality for him. He will let people down. He will fail people. All because of what 4844 did to him. Part of his healing and growth post war as Koda's Padawan is learning to appropriately place the blame on 4844 and being kinder to himself. He learns to mitigate people's expectations of him, which he wasn't free/able to do as a trooper. A lot of his healing comes directly from Koda's lack of expectations. Every advancement and achievement Cobalt makes under Koda's instruction is usually a surprise to both of them and celebrated as such.

Taar's biggest fear is for Cobalt's well being. Post war, he's not nearly as tangled up in Cobalt's safety, but he still insists he accompany Koda, Synth, and Cobalt when they're out doing Jedi stuff even though he doesn't technically have to. Taar's seen enough Jedi self-sacrificial shenanigans from Koda that he doesn't want Cobalt to get the wrong sort of idea about ideal Jedi behavior. (LOL) Taar and Synth hold the brain cells on these outings. u-u Taar's going to go prematurely gray, even with the accelerated aging corrected.

Cobalt thinks about a lot of things. During the war, he thought about his batch-mates, his squad, and would obsessively reread manuals and orders and briefings to make sure he was going to remember everything he needed to know for missions and battles. (And would still forget.) After the war, he constantly overworks himself to learn Koda's instructions in the Force, and lightsaber forms, being excessively studious and making other Jedi jealous of Koda's "model student". Except Cobalt struggles to remember everything he learns, so there are often bizarre gaps in his information. He trains his body hard, so his muscles remember what his mind can't. Koda isn't hard on Cobalt, and often encourages him to take breaks because the mind has to rest.

Taar, as one of Koda's lieutenants, thinks more strategy, more logic, and is more concerned about getting things done rather than remembering information. During the war, Taar's mostly business. He's not cold, but he's definitely calculating, methodical, and distant. Accustomed to losing soldiers, and being frustrated with Cobalt's memory problems. Those frustrations eventually give way to over-protection and reassigning Cobalt to assist Koda directly instead of being in more immediate danger where his memory causes other people to be killed. Post war he keeps himself occupied by helping Cobalt learn Jedi stuff and assisting Synth with the logistics of Koda's research. Being more methodical, he balances Synth's recklessness.

After the war, at least talking about the Invictus AU here and not Adrift on Celestial Seas, Cobalt is Koda's Padawan! Koda is a descendant of Sith pure bloods and has concerns he may eventually fall to the Dark side like all his ancestors. Before the war he primarily worked in research and history, trying to find out as much as he could about the psychology of the Sith vs. the history of his own family. It begins to become a bit of an obsession during the war, as the death and loss and pain begin to overwhelm him, but thankfully Synth is able to help him see how his obsession with avoiding becoming a Sith is actually causing him to creep closer to the Dark (like a self-fullfilling prophecy of sorts). Koda doesn't fall, and takes Cobalt as his Padawan, and the four of them travel the galaxy expanding on Koda's research into Sith history. It means they come into contact with a lot of dark, evil things, but post war, the four of them are extremely well equipped to mentally handle whatever the Dark wants to throw in their path.

Becoming a Jedi allows Cobalt to stay in touch with his batch-mates, and sticking with Cobalt gives Taar a life he never dreamed he'd get to have. It's not nearly as peaceful as he expected a Jedi's life to be, so he's glad he and Synth are around to keep their two Jedi out of harm's way.

[rhythymicwriting]

A Voice Like Summer Thunder - Shizaya

I'm considering making this a full length fic. For now, here's the initial drabble. It starts with a recap of Durararax2 ep 12.

“Hey… Who the hell is this?” His voice was low as he spoke into the phone, eyes flicking to the side as if to see the caller. He hadn’t saved the number, so it couldn’t have been a client, but the man spoke about Izaya’s dealings with the Awakusu. More specifically, the man knew he told Akane Awakusu that Shizuo Heiwajima was going to kill her father. Who else would know he’d set Akane on Shizuo? 

Namie?

Nakura?

No, he knew their voices. Izaya had a bad feeling about this. 

The caller laughed. “There’s no need for you to know my name just yet. But as a token of our new friendship, let me offer you an opinion. Or rather,” He corrected. “A warning. You’re a bit too good looking, Izaya.”

“What?” He stopped in his tracks. What the hell did that mean? This wasn’t some stalker creep, was it? Dealing with his breed of clientele put him at risk for that sort of thing and he knew it, but they weren’t usually this forward. Izaya couldn’t help being a little bit intrigued by the mystery call, however unsettling it may be. 

“It makes you stand out in a crowd,” The caller explained. “So in your case, blending in isn’t really an ideal way for you to hide. Besides, you’re looking kind of stressed.” Izaya tensed. Hold on, that voice on the phone…

It was coming from behind him. 

“I think a nap would do you a world of good.” A shoulder slammed into his own, the man using his momentum to drive something sharp through Izaya’s jacket. Cold metal burst through his warm skin, searing pain running through his torso. His breath caught, a strangled grunt the only sound he could make as the man walked through him, knocking Izaya off balance.

He stumbled, watching the caller walk ahead of him. It was only for a moment, though, before motion on his own shirt caught his eye. A dark stain formed on the cloth, sticking it against Izaya’s skin. As he watched the stain grow, he realized he still hadn’t regained his balance. 

He was tipping.  

The phone clattered from his hand, call still active, as Izaya dropped to his knees. His arms were too slow to catch him and he fell the rest of the way to the ground, coarse asphalt scraping his cheek. 

“Oh and since you asked,” The man’s words were intelligible, but it was a struggle, pain deadening Izaya’s brain. He fought to focus on the call, ignoring the sound of murmurs and his own pained groans. “My name is Jinnai Yodogiri and I’m pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“Damn,” He cursed. Izaya wriggled, trying to pull himself toward the phone, his fingers brushing the plastic case, but every motion caused agonizing fireworks to blossom in his side, their fiery tendrils snaking through his nervous system. 

“Gotta… Get a hold of… Namie.” He groaned. Man, it was hard to breathe. The ground was slick beneath him, the usual grip of asphalt lost to the ruby pool. Countless city lights reflected off the surface, falling flat against his clothing where the liquid seeped. 

Izaya’s sight was blurred, the phone a glowing smear against the dull pavement. His fingers, finally reaching, fumbled the device, muscle memory guiding him more than his own will. It was lucky he’d even opened his contacts. 

“Hello?” You’re kidding. Even dazed with pain, he recognized that voice. Izaya stayed quiet. “Is someone there?”

The line was quiet for a moment more. Shit. If he kept waiting like this, Izaya might actually bleed out. How humiliating would that be. The great Izaya of Shinjuku, bleeding to death on an Ikebukuro crosswalk. Would it be worse than asking this monster for help?

For a vital, life saving second, Izaya decided it was.

“I’m…I need help.”

A tongue clicked on the other end. “What? Why’re you botherin me?”

“Please,” The word felt like bile in his mouth. Apparently, pride really does evaporate when you’re stabbed. “I’m…bleeding.” He groaned again. His breath was shallow, blood bubbling from the wound with every inhale, pain rocketing through his abdomen. 

The phone stayed quiet. The world grew darker and brighter, all at once. Izaya’s vision tunneled at the edges, a dizzying vignette softening the city, but pin prick stars burned his retinas. The sound of the crowd around him buried his thoughts, a muddled knot running through his head instead of their usual ordered lines. 

“Well? Answer me, damn it!” The coarse sound stuck out of the noise, drawing his attention back to the blurry screen. He drew the screen toward his face, whatever word that may have been written there moved from too-far-away blurry to too-close blurry. 

“What?” His voice drawled, pulling like molasses from his chest, words heavy on his tongue. 

“Shit.” The voice grumbled, angry at repeating its question. “Where are you?”

“Um.” Izaya’s eyes flicked around lazily, but there was little for them to pick up, their lids too heavy to lift. “Ikebukuro.”

The voice rose in volume. “That doesn’t hel-” 

Another voice murmured something, the phone sliding gently from Izaya’s hand. He was aware of the pull at his shoulders, lifting him only high enough to slide across the ground, but he was distracted by the pain shooting through his middle. 

Izaya felt himself lain on his side against cooler pavement, a softer muttering playing above his head, sticking out from the crowd, but no more coherent. City lights flared, excruciating pain igniting in his abdomen. A woman leaned over him, her arms arrow straight as she pressed on his wound. Izaya coughed. He heard what might have been ‘sorry.’ His phone was on speaker, balanced on his leg. She’d taken over the call. Her hands stayed steady, shoved against his side, the burning pain fading behind a cozy cloud of exhaustion.

The gentle, steady buzz of what he guessed was a phone call lulled him into a foggy dusk, bright, burning lights fizzling out. 

*

When fuzzy white light burned orange through his eyelids, Izaya assumed he was waking up in a hospital. Antiseptic smell, thin sheets, hard mattress, yes, this had to be a hospital. He breathed deep, flinching when his stretch pulled at a raw wound. Nerves flared from his hip to his sternum. “Ugh.” He rolled onto his side, pushing himself up. “Being stabbed blows.”

“Huh?” Rich colored wood greeted him as he opened his eyes. He still smelled antiseptic, paper thin sheets were still draped over his legs, but he realized this wasn’t a hospital. Fuzzy light shone through bamboo blinds. A generic yellow ceiling light hung above his head, pale in comparison to the harsh outside gleam. 

Izaya lay on a makeshift bed in some high end apartment in a makeshift operating room. Realizing this, he knew who was walking through the door before the man was all the way through. Clad in a knee length lab coat despite having no real medical degree and carrying a clear box overflowing with white fabrics was his best friend of eleven years. “Doctor Kishitani, thanks for the hospitality.” He grinned, a teasing glimmer in his eyes. 

“Oh!” The man looked up, brown hair twitching as he stopped. “Celty, he’s awake!” He hollered. Izaya fought the urge to cover his ears. “You shouldn’t be sitting up yet, Izaya. You’ll reopen your wound.”

“Ugh.” He groaned, letting his hair puff around his face as he dropped back down. Pain exploded up his back when he did. As fun as the dramatics were, that fuckin hurt.

Shinra moved to his side, taking his sweet time uncovering him and lifting his shirt. “You know, after all these years, I don’t remember the last time I treated you.” He said, slowly peeling the adhesive bandage off Izaya’s stomach, letting the tape pull the skin. He was doing that on purpose. Izaya’s mood was quickly souring. 

“I do.” Izaya thought reminiscing might distract him from the steady pulling at his hairs, and keep him from throttling this back alley doctor. “It was middle school, wasn’t it? That crazy kid with the gambling addiction.” Izaya hissed, a new burning, true burning, erupting in his side, running from his skin through his kidney and the entire surrounding area. His eyes snapped to Shinra in a fury. 

The doctor stood over him with a frown, a bottle of rubbing alcohol in his hand, a bloody swab pinched in the other. “You’re talking about when I got stabbed, Izaya.”

“Oh was that it?” If he could feel anything other than agony right now, he would have laughed. “Bummer. Ah fuck!”

Shinra had shoved another alcohol soaked swab in his wound. 

“How’d I get here anyway? Shouldn’t I be in a hospital?” Izaya asked. Shinra’s response was slow, hesitant. There was that bad feeling again. 

“Shizuo brought you.”

Izaya’s eyes widened, irritation and confusion bubbling behind them. “What?”

“He didn’t look happy about it either,” Shinra chuckled under his breath. 

The growl to his voice surprised him, Izaya’s words emanating from his chest. “Why?”

Shinra’s head tilted, eyebrows drawn. “He said you called him.”

“What a lousy liar.” Izaya groaned. 

“I need help.” Coarse concrete cooled his cheek as he listened to the low voice in his phone. That familiar voice, every word like a threat he didn’t mean, poured from the speaker, asking questions he hadn’t processed. 

“Where are you?” 

Izaya didn’t remember. “Ikebukuro.”

“That doesn’t help-”

A woman had taken the phone.

“Shit.” Izaya’s breath carried the word without his permission. He had called him. Izaya was stabbed, nearly bled out on the street, and had called Shizuo fucking Heiwajima for help. 

And the bastard actually showed up. 

“You should give him a call. At least let him know you’re alive.”

He groaned. “Why would he care?”

“Izaya,” Shinra stopped his work, hands freezing with fresh bandages. He gave the other a look like a disappointed father, one that said he was one crucial second of self control away from smacking him upside the head. “He carried you all the way here from East Ikebukuro. There was more blood on his shirt than in your body. Call him.”

Shinra held out a small device, the surface lighting up with the movement. Izaya sighed as he took the phone, making quick work of dialing the number. 

*

“Hello?” Low, gravely, but polite, that voice irked him every time. Its owner clearly hadn’t saved his number. Izaya would bet a lot of money he didn’t know how. 

“Hey, Shinra wanted me to let you know I survived.” Shinra shot him a dirty look. God, this felt like being a kid at the park again, his mom making him apologize to a kid he pushed off a swing.  He almost felt like laughing.

The voice changed immediately, sharp, short, ill-tempered. “Oh, it’s you.”

“Heya, Shizu.”

The line stayed quiet. Usually he’d hang up by now. 

“Look, I uh…” Even the thought of what he was trying to say made Izaya’s stomach curdle, his pride slowing his tongue. “Thank you.”

“Oh? What was that?” A smile crept into his voice, lifting at the sharpness in his words. 

“Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.” Izaya groaned. “Thank you for taking me to Shinra’s.”

“You’re welcome.” Good humor made Shizuo chattier than usual, the man no longer debating hanging up and now digging for the story. “How’d you get stabbed anyway?”

Izaya, on the other hand, wanted this conversation over with. “Long story, bad people. Bye bye, Shizu-chan.” He moved swiftly, pulling the phone away from his ear, thumb hovering over the bright red button. 

“Hold on,” Izaya did. The phone traveled back to his ear, albeit held further away. Not that Shizuo was hard to hear. “You, uh… You okay?”

Izaya’s eyebrow twitched. He wasn’t asking about the wound, was he? “Whatever could you mean?”

Shizuo cleared his throat. “You’re not in some shit again, are you?” 

“Aw,” Izaya drawled. “Are you worried about me?”

“Forget I asked.” The phone beeped softly, ringing through the space. The line was dead, Shizuo’s contact info staring back at him instead of the interface. 

“See? That wasn’t so hard.” Shinra gathered his materials, already making his way out. “Lay down and don’t move. I don’t want you hurting yourself again.”

“But Doc, what if I need the bathroom.” Izaya’s characteristic smirk snaking its way onto his face. 

Shinra flicked hair out of his face, his expression flat, but voice teasing. “I’ll give you a catheter.”

Izaya was a little worried he was serious. 

*

“You’re not in some shit again, are you?”

“Aw, are you worried about me?”

“Forget I asked.”

The problem was, Izaya couldn’t forget he’d asked. In fact, the moment replayed in his head over and over again, his brain picking apart and reassembling it, like looking for secrets in a video. 

“You’re not in some shit again, are you?”

He could almost see the man, stopped on the sidewalk, his coworker walking a few strides ahead before wondering why he’d stopped. Tall despite the slouch in his shoulders, black-brown roots exposed by wind that tossed fried blond hair, head tilted into his phone, eyes angled as if making eye contact with the phone might get an honest answer. 

He could picture his face contort, where real concern might have been written, irritation blossomed. 

“Forget I asked” 

And he’d move on without a second thought. 

But why had he asked that? Why did he care? Izaya had been nothing but an obstacle to him since they met. He’d liked it that way. Izaya hated Shizuo and Shizuo hated him back, so what did he care that he was mixed up with the wrong crowd?

Why did he show up that night?

Izaya was reminded time and time again why he hated that monster. While he found fun in watching humanity, there was a part of him that relished the predictability of it all. The struggle, the fear, the anger, it was all a game, but it was a game with rules. 

He knew that if he talked to a girl on the internet in some forum and encouraged her emotions, he could control her, he could guide her into his game. Any person he messed with, he had some amount of control, some amount of influence.

But Shizuo was a raging storm, a natural force he couldn’t sway. No matter what he did, Shizuo always colored outside the lines. He was an outlier. 

And yet, his voice kept playing in Izaya’s head. Over and over again, he asked the same question, that unexpected concern like a broken record. 

It was getting on his nerves. 

Izaya pushed himself upright, taking in the makeshift operating room. Shinra had told him not to move, but there was only so long he was going to stare at that damn ceiling. He wriggled to the side of the bed, ignoring the pulling at his wound. The wooden floor was cold under his feet as he slid off the edge. A weight tugged on his arm, drawing his attention back to the bed. 

“Oh, that’s right.” He muttered. Thin tubing ran from a rack in the corner to the crook of his elbow, clear saline flowing through the plastic. Shinra had replaced the bag during the phone call, but it was almost empty, most of the liquid in Izaya’s bloodstream. A tiny valve created a dam about eight inches from the drip bag. Turning it stopped the flow into Izaya’s arm, a small amount of the liquid remaining in the tube. He drew in a quick breath as his hand drifted up his arm, fingers daintily grasping the tubing. 

He exhaled and ripped the needle from his arm. Izaya let the tubing clatter quietly against the rack as he rifled through a nearby first aid kit. Most of the bandages here were too big. He opted instead to tape a cotton ball over the spot. 

The door cracked open silently as Izaya stuck his head into the hallway. Seeing it was empty, he tread softly into the open. The living room was empty too, with the exception of Celty’s helmet, indicating that the headless woman was somewhere in the apartment, but running water in another room meant she wasn’t going to catch him any time soon. 

His shoes were placed neatly by the door, but his characteristic jacket was nowhere to be seen. “Shit…” Izaya murmured. He would be fine without the jacket, but his knife was in the stash pocket. 

There weren’t any closets near the door that it might have been hidden in, if Shinra had even meant to hide it from him. If he had, his shoes likely wouldn’t be here either. He turned, moving back to the operating room, and stopped in his tracks. 

Light shone around the edges of a knee length lab coat, Shinra blocking his way back into the apartment. “What are you doing out of bed?”

“Bathroom.” Izaya shrugged. He swore he could see a vein pulse in the doctor’s forehead. Standing in the entryway with his shoes on the other side of the apartment from a bathroom probably didn’t help his lie. 

“Izaya, where are you going?”

“I just needed to clear my head. Will you allow me that?”

“You’re looking for your jacket, right?”

“I was, yeah. Don’t want to get chilly.”

Shinra sighed. Heavy fabric collided with Izaya, fur tickling his nose. It was his jacket, lacking its usual weight. His knife wasn’t in it. He sighed, slipping the sleeves over his bare arms. His t-shirt was light, picked to layer under his jacket so he wouldn’t overheat, but it left him pretty cold without the coat. Not that he cared.

“Look, Izaya.” Shinra put his hands in his pockets. “You’re still in critical condition. I’m not gonna stop you, but be careful, okay?”

“Yeah yeah,” Izaya waved a hand, slipping into the hall. 

*

The streetlights were their usual comfortable glow, pale in comparison to that burning star spot from the night before. His eyes were vigilant, flicking amongst the crowd. It was subconscious and it annoyed him. 

These were his people, his family, his playthings, and yet his own mind was betraying him, keeping him vigilant on his own playing field. Unbelievable. One kitten shows its claws and he can’t will himself to relax. 

The crowd moved like water around him, people perfectly spaced for him to pass between them. The city buzz heightened his senses, but it helped to focus his thoughts, honing them on the crowd instead of the noise in his skull. 

A girl was talking on the phone nearby, likely to a partner or a close friend. Her voice was too high, too tight, upset but trying to fight it. What he wouldn’t give to hear that phone call. 

A man passed too close beside him, distracted by the woman to his right. He was talking about drinks. Maybe coworkers? She didn’t look comfortable. It’d be fun to follow them a couple blocks. 

The crowd had parted wider, working around Izaya instead of letting him through. His brows furrowed. That wasn’t right. He wasn’t that well known, was he? “You’re a bit too good looking, Izaya. It makes you stand out in a crowd.” 

He felt himself slowing down, his limbs heavy, thoughts fast. The voices around him were whispers, too quiet to pull him out of his head. Their eyes were nervous, shifting, focused on him. No. 

Something behind him. 

Izaya went ridgid, breath picking up as if he was already running, but his legs wouldn’t move. It felt as if lead were tied around his ankles, cotton in his knees. 

He hadn’t felt fear like this since high school. That’s what this feeling was. He’d almost forgotten it. This was fear. 

“Besides,” 

He could feel the presence behind him now. 

“You’re looking kinda stressed.” 

There was a hand on his shoulder.

“I think a nap…”

“Hey, what are you doing out here?”

“...Would do you a world of good.”

Izaya took off running. Pedestrians stumbled out of his way, his coat flailing behind him as he tore through the waters. This would be a good time to have his knife. Damn it, Shinra. 

“Hey, what the hell?” Part of his brain knew that voice was wrong, it didn’t match, the other part of his brain didn’t care. It was animal fear. Survival. He didn’t care who was chasing him. 

He was not getting caught.

The footsteps behind him were loud, steady, like a heartbeat. They were gaining on him. Fuck. Izaya let his weight fall on his right foot, nearly falling into the mouth of the alley. Eleven years of running for his life had paid off in this respect, movements that would slow others down were a flick of the wrist. He dashed down the alley, foot hooking on a dumpster, hands gripping a balcony rail, working in harmony to propel him upward. In mere moments, Izaya had scaled the side of a low rise apartment, taking his flight along the roof. 

A heavy impact landed not far behind him, his pursuer following him to the rooftop. This guy wasn’t normal, but in his panic, Izaya didn’t care. His abdomen was screaming. If he didn’t lose this guy fast, he might actually pass out up here. 

He leapt over a gap, the rooftops close enough together. At least they looked that way. His foot missed the other side, the toe of his boot catching the edge and slipping out from under him. Shit, this was a far fall. He bucked forward, catching himself on his stomach. 

Izaya coughed, spit flying from his mouth. Pain exploded from his side, rocketing through his entire torso, stretching from his collar to his thigh. He couldn’t get a hold. He was scrabbling for a grip, managing to hold himself despite the struggle. 

Another heavy impact almost shook him loose, the rooftop jostling beneath him. A hand caught his wrist. 

“Shit, no!” The words fled his lips before he thought them. He was drawn onto the rooftop, firmly, but without aggression. He thrashed in their grip, kicking out, hoping to hit anything. 

“Dammit!” His foot connected. The man didn’t budge. “Would you stop that? I’ll drop you!” The growl was familiar. 

His eyes caught polished shoes, the roof beneath them cracked and fractaled. The ghost of a cigarette hung in the air, clinging to the man but no longer with him.

Shizuo pulled Izaya from the edge, setting his feet down on the rooftop. There was fury in his eyes, but he wasn’t acting on it, instead backing away. 

“Why did you run like that?” He was avoiding eye contact, but it ended quickly when he realized Izaya’s only answer was staggered breathing. “Crap, sit down, would ya?”

Shizuo strode forward, grabbing Izaya by the shoulders, leading him to the access shed and sitting him down on the ground. Izaya moved easily, his brain too busy frantically looking for escape. 

“Hey, hey!” Shizuo snapped in front of his eyes, drawing their focus to himself. “Good, breathe.”

Izaya did. He drew in his breath slowly, frustrated by its trembling. If he’d been thinking clearly, he would have exhaled in the man’s face, but his lungs didn’t want to release the air, shaking harder as he breathed out. 

“Jeez,” Shizuo ran a hand through his hair. “You really are an idiot.” He pulled a yellow flip phone from his pocket, a clumsy device for a clumsy brute. If he could laugh, Izaya would have. Shizuo stood up, stepping back from Izaya’s ragdoll form. “Hey, I’ve found Izaya. He- yeah. Okay. Yeah, be there in a few.” 

He hung up, sliding the phone back into his pocket. His steps were lighter as they came back. He kneeled gently in front of the man, head tilted to see under Izaya’s matted hair. “Are you okay? What was all that about?”

Izaya fought for a smile, forcing his walls back up. The idea of letting this monster see him like this was driving him insane. “You caring about me now?” His breath caught again. 

“Aw, are you worried about me?”

Shizuo didn’t react, the taunting either bouncing off him or going over his head. “How’s your back?”

“Ouch-y.”

His brow twitched. “Ouch-y?”

“Yeah, ouch-y.” He tried to grin. 

“Why did you run?”

Izaya shifted, his hand on his stomach. “Anyone would run if you were behind them.” He pretended to shudder, ignoring the screaming pain from his wound. 

“Izaya,” The sincerity in his voice was alarming, a gentle rumble like summer thunder. “I’m serious, what’s wrong?”

He frowned. “I…” 

“Woah, hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to tell me,” Shizuo was suddenly flustered, pulsing open palms, as if trying to soothe him. “Just don’t cry, okay?”

“What?” Venom seeped into Izaya’s voice. Cry? He thought he’d cry in front of this monster? What a dick. 

Izaya flinched, a ripple of movement across his flushed cheeks. A bug? What bad timing. He moved to swat it away, wincing at the shooting pain through his side. His hand came away from his cheek damp. 

You’re kidding. Saline ran from his eyes against his will, a mixture of pain, relief, and embarrassment. This was ridiculous. First, he calls him for help, now he cries in front of this neanderthal? Whatever happened to his pride?

A coarse hand grazed his cheek, the cracked skin of his knuckles scraping against his face. “It’s okay, alright? You’re okay.” His eyes widened, an overwhelming feeling washing over him, one like drowning, like suffocating. 

Izaya acted before he could think. He was doing that a lot lately. Soft, warm fabric enveloped his face, the scent of cigarettes filling his sinuses, miraculously soothing his trembling breath. With his face on his chest, Izaya could hear the man’s breath catch, quiet surprise emanating from his lips. 

If he’d been thinking clearly, this would have made him vomit. But as it stood, the feeling of Shizuo’s arms hesitantly closing around his back, the subtle cigarette smell, the beat of his heart, the sound of his breath, it felt safe.

Summer thunder rumbled again, timid, unsure. Hesitant fingers lifted off his back, sticking ever so slightly as they peeled off the fabric. “Hey… You’re bleeding.”

Izaya considered lifting his head, but it was suddenly heavier than he thought it was. If he had, he might have seen the red staining Shizuo’s hands, the pallor of his cheeks, or even the frightening smear he’d left against the wall behind him. But in his exhaustion, he melted further into cigarette scented cotton and let the rest of the world fade out. 

[transgenderdoctorwhomst-old]

In Mr clever absorbing 11s mannerisms and emotions, which I just love the irony of that, I do wonder if it makes Clever & the doctor blended in a way where you can sorta tell who's who but the lines pretty blurred at this point. I wonder if it's blurred enough that a regeneration wouldn't even fully fix it.

I wonder if his mannerisms would be a little off, maybe to show to a point that at first Mr clever isn't used to a more humanoid body vs hydraulic or whatever the cybermen use, but as time goes on he learns to blend and gets used to movements and how to 'act' human.

I have a lot of thoughts but like not very in depth so I'ma be jumping around a bit.

But I am enjoying imagining just what would be the 'who is that' moment for different companions rn and how weird it would be for previous companions to see how the doctor is acting now. The yeah he acts about 80% like the doctor but there's a lot of little tipping points like you said that sort of point to something else.

Do you think we'd see a sort of return of timelord victorious with the planner? Maybe thinking he can bring the cyber empire into power using the tardis, either by changing history directly or a domino effect.

Idk, but I'd love to hear your thoughts <3

if the cyberplanner gets in the tardis, he is ABSOLUTELY pulling a time lord victorious. even if the cyberman amusement park planet is blown up, he'd definitely get to work on setting up a new army and figuring out what events he could change without accidentally deleting himself from existence. and he'd have to be keeping an eye on not changing his own timeline or the doctor's timeline, which is probably the only thing stopping him from going back and immediately changing every single loss the cybermen have ever faced. cant very well bring back the cyberiad empire if you blow up yourself and half a galaxy because of a paradox!

everyone will be very lucky the cyberplanner has the major flaw for a cyberman, of having an ego and feelings and potential for doubt. and also a flesh body that needs rest. and is constantly fighting with the doctor for control. and a tardis that doesn't always like to cooperate. because it would be an absolute nightmare for everyone else otherwise. any kind of evil doctor is an absolute force to be reckoned with.

for body movements, he seems to mirror 11, using his preexisting muscle memory, but i think over time he would make efforts to try and rewire it into more, you know, still and calm. less of 11's spinning around and waving his hands around and large gesturing. which is very odd to see on 11, because he's very active and needs to be constantly stimming. just some real uncanny valley shit.

we see they act similar enough that clara does feel the need to ask and can't tell just by looking, so long as the cyberplanner doesnt majorly fuck up an assumption about 11's behaviour. i think he would try to learn how to mimic the doctor, because it's useful if he can run around calling in any favors owed to the doctor. he just cant resist the urge to be a mean little shit to people, much more than the doctor usually is. (and 11 can be a mean little shit).

he does have the tell that he talks in a lower, more gravelly voice than the doctor, though. like he's trying to replicate the modulated cyberman voices. which is fun and definitely not something the cyberplanner is doing on purpose, i think it just sounds more correct to him.

i have no idea how a regeneration would affect, but considering 11 doesn't actually have any regenerations left until gallifrey gives him a new cycle, who knows when 11 might get the chance to try. the cybermen need physical parts installed though, so there's probably still some physical component wired inside his brain that could be burned out. the problem is not killing the doctor in the process.

[jackalopes-pen]

Dumb Brain Child

Gadies and lentlemen of the internet, when we got a Janus video did anyone except me to not make a post about my favorite side? I think most of most followers did. So, go watch the newest video, come back, and strap in.

(before anything, I'm aware I'm four days late. SHUT.)

So, the first thing that caught my eye was that, in theory, the GRWM is working from a c!Thomas disguise, which apparently he has, to his look. This could be good to know for the finale in case c!Thomas is acting off/ argumentative.

Janus appears to have some degree of pride about his appearance being replicated right (?). It could be an internal thing (ex: they don't pay enough attention to me ot get it right) or (look at me more, please). Either one, his ego is the size of Canada.

Next thing! Janus doesn't have both eyebrows. He has to cover C!Thomas' up with colour correction, glue, and foundation. So he definitely possesses only one eyebrow which is weird when you think too long about it. While doing this section, he mentions that he enjoys reality television because none of it is real and it's purely underhanded deception... which tracks. It also tells us that he does enjoy seeing other liars at work when it's done well and in a non-self-deprecating way. This probably part of the reason he calls out Patton & Roman for their lies. Their lies hurt themselves.

S/N: Remus eating Janus' glue sticks is so canon and I adore it.

The thing that made me make this whole post in the first place was when we got to the eye section. His smile dropped. You can see, as soon as he says "eye" his mouth muscles relax showing that he isn't happy anymore. Clearly, his eye is a sensitive subject and this is even when the fan questions are introduced as a distraction from the eye section.

Could this actually be a scar like Joan said? A scar that Janus is very insecure about. He doesn't talk at all about the actual makeup during this, he just answers fan questions and mentions colour mixing. He also says during this section that he has dark circles, perhaps implying that he isn't taking as much care of himself as he wants the rest to believe. Dark circles are a sign of loss of sleep and stress. After all, he states "The only opinion that matters in your own" but what if your own opinion is negative? It could also just be a case of Remus is a bad roommate.

We see during the mouth section, that Janus apparently has "snake telepathy" which may contribute to Ye Olde "Roman was not Roman during Moving On 1 & 2" theory. Janus could;ve been using telepathy to guide Roman's decisions.

Finally, we get to the scales which Janus is clearly very proud of. He adores his scales. He talks about how they're pretty, and highlights them with his hands. It is fun to see that something he gets a lot of insults for is something he really likes and won't take shit about.

Final Conclusion:

This was an in-character cosplay tutorial that I looked into way too much.

[football-and-fanfics]

Jump scare - Virgil van Dijk

Who: Virgil van Dijk Prompt: Knocked unconscious during a match or training Notes with request: a moment happened with Virg in the leeds game i think (i don’t wanna remember that game for certain reasons :\)but i remember him going up and colliding heads with another leeds player and he stumbled for a quick second but in the end was fine but for as many times as he jumps and uses his head i’m surprised but grateful that he hasn’t gotten a concussion yet or been unconscious. with the knocked unconscious prompt i was wondering if we could see what could’ve happened if he wasn’t fine after the knock and had been knocked unconscious either on the way down or when he stumbled plus i haven’t seen a lot of big Virg lately. Requested by: anonymous Warnings: mentions of injury / loss of consciousness / concussion

It didn't always look like it, but Virgil was usually being careful whenever he went in for a header. Of course he didn't want to bash his head together with someone else and risk a concussion or something worse. But right now, that was just what happened.

Like he always did, Virgil moved forward with the rest of the team when Liverpool were awarded a corner kick. He was one of the tallest in the team and a good header, so a real asset in these situations.

Trent took the corner kick, expertly aiming for Virgil. Virgil saw the ball coming for him and timed his jump to perfection. The other team's defender made a desperate attempt to keep the ball out of Virgil's reach, jumping up high alongside the Dutchman. Neither of them actually hit the ball, though, but they did hit each other.

The clash of the two players' heads together was heard even by Alisson in the other goal. Somehow, Virgil managed to keep his consciousness for a few seconds afterwards, but he wouldn't remember any of it later on. He stumbled to a landing, staggering on his feet. Several of his teammates looked over at Virgil in anxious anticipation. His dazed gaze met some of their faces, before consciousness finally gave out on him after all. Strength fled from all his muscles, and he slumped limply to the ground.

No one in the team was used to Virgil going down like that. He usually was the rock of their backline, more indestructible than a Dutch bicycle.

The medical team was quickly out on the pitch to offer treatment and make a first assessment of his condition. The entire team stood around Virgil lying on the grass, now surrounded by the medics. Even Alisson had come out of his goal to see how his teammate was doing. Everyone was silent, all worried and shaken up by this happening, but unable to offer any kind of help. All they could do was wait...

---

Virgil groaned softly when he opened his eyes. A dull pain thumped through his brain and a faint dizziness swam around him.

"Are you back with us?" Virgil opened his eyes to a medic sitting by him, who had his hands on either side of Virgil's face to stabilize it. "A little," Virgil mumbled. His mind felt so foggy. Obviously he was on the pitch, but other than that there wasn't much recollection of how he ended up here on the grass or even of playing a match.

"Do you know where you are?" The medic asked. "Anfield?" The answer was correct, but the way Virgil spoke betrayed he wasn't sure of it. "Do you remember anything of the match or what just happened to you?" The medic continued. "No," Virgil groaned. "Alright." The medic spoke more to his colleagues than Virgil. "We're taking you for some concussion tests."

"Hey, big man." Andy suddenly appeared by Virgil's side as well. He had been close by when the collision happened, and was properly worried for his teammate. "Glad you're alive. That sounded and looked horrible." "Still feels horrible, man," Virgil mumbled. The dizziness wasn't subsiding, and he shielded his eyes with his arm, hoping to make it less at least. Andy gently patted Virgil's chest. "Take it easy, okay?" "Yeah," Virgil answered softly, "I'll be back as soon as possible to pester you again." Andy chuckled, somewhat relieved at the half-hearted joke Virgil already tried to make again. "Can't wait."

Tags: @evie-pr, @auawdo, @meteora-fc, @stonesyyyy, @drizzyreese, @hbstre, @liverpoolfanfiction, @sternennebel2001 VVD tags: @footballffbarbiex, @indomie-fried-noodle PL tags: @ella33 LFC tags: @candlelitutopia, @percervall

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[starrspice]

Hi there

Hey hello everyone.

I have not been super active lately (I’ve been kinda busy and life’s been a little crazy) BUT

I won’t leave you entirely empty handed. You guys voted for an OC ramble so Here you go!!!!

Because OMG I’m feral and they’re all I think about! There’s a LOT of info because I love them, and want to ramble so if you’re interested there’s more below the cut

SO let’s start with the main 4 I’ve had in my brain since I was like. 15

Meet the U.F.O.S.

What’s U.F.O.S. Stand for? Universal Freelance Operation Specialists ofc. They’re mercenaries! Got a job you need done? They do it no matter what star system or how dirty the job!

The team themselves are considered high level fugitives by the intergalactic administration (but that doesn't stop them from causing more chaos) and without even knowing they actually kick started the rebellion against the administration! Some people call them heroes while others call them criminals.

As for the actual members of the team:

◇Zai is always looking to get into trouble. He's the wild of the group and despite his cheery demeanor he's actually quite unpredicatble. He was rescued from an underground intergalactic fighting ring (similar to underground dog fighting rings) and most of those violent tendencies carried on with him. He was also outfitted with painful upgrades and augmentations intended to improve his battle abilities. He often avoids physical contact with people he doesn't know well but is rather touchy feely with the rest of the crew (especially Ango who he loves to pester). He's still relatively fresh from the underground fighting scene and still battles with night terrors and violent tendencies as a result

♧Ango is a techy guy who's last nerve is hanging by a thread. He's the brains of the operation and honestly is tired of always being the smartest one in the room. Despite being great with tech he doesn't really know how to deal with emotions well. Growing up emotions were never really rewarded in his family so he struggles to embrace things that involve feelings. He's the straight man and tries to keep things on track even though he often gets carried away himself. Defensive, prideful, and grumpy He's the perfect target for Zai's incessant pestering. He isn't afraid to get his hands dirty and values hard work above all else.He's on the intergalactic administration's top 10 most wanted list due his dangerous skill with tech and a rumored hacking fiasco that caused an uproar in the administration. His body is soft and stretchy like an earth slug but minus the slime so he's able to slip through small spaces with ease.

♡Gidget is a care taker/ accompanying android originally built to guard and take care of a rich aristocrats daughter. She was intended to be upgraded to an older looking model when the girl she cared for grew too old for a doll like companion. Eventually taking on the role of a personal nanny/bodyguard.However, Under a new intergalactic ruling AI as advanced as hers were dubbed sentient and were no longer allowed to be used as free labor. Not wanting to have to pay Gidget (or treat her like a person) she was cast out with the trash. After a few years of scraping by and repairing herself with scraps and spare parts she was taken in by Captain Mars and repaired by Ango before joining the U.F.O.S. Despite her small and cute stature she is actually equipped with borderline illegal high grade defense weaponry and combat programs and acts as the muscle of the group! Her toy like design makes most people mistake her for a child companion bot to which she angrily corrects that she is an unowned sentient AI. She struggles a lot with her self image, solely due to the fact her hardware doesnt match her software. Forever stuck looking like a child's toy and underestimated. Eventually in a failed mission Gidget gets damaged beyond repair. Luckily Ango is able to save her personality and memory chips and transplants them into a new body made custom for her. The Team missed her terribly for the few months it took to rebuild her.

♤A notorious Phantom thief and criminal Mastermind, Mars has been avoiding capture for years and has become a master at all kinds of things. She's bold, head strong, confident, and a jack of all trades. She's the one who formed the U.F.O.S. and is the heart of them all that keeps the team together and everything running like a well oiled machine She gets tired of Ango and Zai's antics (so she says) but adores her team. Their health, and happiness is her top priority. She considers the team to be her own family and treats them as such. With a powerful force of fire and dragon like features She's a force to be feared and a sight to behold. Her only known injury being the scar over her left eye and her tattered left ear. It's this very same scar that left her having a hard time trusting others, being very selective about who she lets close to her. Her past before she broke out of prison and formed the U.F.O.S. is shrouded in mystery. All anyone really knows is that she has a sister back on her home planet and that they don't get along well.

I've had the idea for the U.F.O.S. Webcomic for forever but i always had trouble nailing down a few plot points. The one thing thats never changed is the bond of the team being the main focus of the whole thing. A group of misfits who fit together, and who care about eachother more than anything else in the universe.

NEXT UP

Cybil and Sophie!!!!

☆Cybil Calaway

Cybil is a Half Siren, and lead singer and guitarist to a garage band in her home town (Here in the reference sheet provided she's 19). Unlike Sophie who attends the local private academy, Cybil attends the local highschool and has a reputation akin to the cliche "Bad girl" But the truth of the matter is Cybil is unapologetically herself, which a lot of locals consider to be rude or brash. She's a little blunt and sarcastic but has a big heart and cares deeply for those close to her. She's extremely passionate about music and writes all the song her band preforms. And despite her punk rock appearance, she's actually quite kind and often helps the members of her community wherever she can! She also helps her older siblings and her father at his grocery store.She has a total of 7 siblings, 2 of which have already moved out for college. One of her siblings is her twin sister Pheobe, who tragically dies in a car accident when they were 26. Cybil and Sophie broke up when they moved to different parts of the country but Cybil often remembers Sophie as one of her first great loves and the one that got away. After getting a degree in Musical composition Cybil wound up becoming the manager of her younger sister Aubrey's pop rock band and lead the band to great success! She and Aubrey both took a couple of years off from touring with the band to grieve Pheobe (and for Cybil to adjust to now taking care of Pheobe's daughter, Allison)

♡Sophie Delavigne is A rich werewolf girl who's a bit of a goody two shoes (She's 18 in the reference sheet).Except when she's with Cybil.

Despite being the poster child for a perfect, preppy, rich daughter, Sophie actually struggles a lot with identity issues. Having done whatever her family wanted of her growing up, now in her senior year of highschool she's in a panic trying to figure out who she is and what she wants to pursue in college. Upon meeting Cybil she slowly begins to find herself and enjoys the person she is when they're together. With Cybil's help Sophie realizes she wants to become a writer and possibly run her own publishing company!

Sophie has always had a friendly rivalry with her older sister Solene, and during their college years they competed to try and be named the next head of the family. Somewhere along the line Sophie gave up the competition to instead focus on her studies and personal goals, which is what lead to her sister taking over her father's company. After college Sophie slowly worked her way up the ladder. She was extremely upset when her father bought out the company she worked for (and she believes any future promotions will be her father's doing).

In my original idea for the webcomic they met in their senior year in highschool only to break up when they move to different colleges and then reconnect about 9 years later

And there you have it there's my oc info ramble for you

Feel free to ask me ANY questions im more than happy to ramble about them any time!! These are my main ocs but ive got plenty more

[bloodyknucklesforme]

remember how I said I wanted to do an AU where Johnny survives MWIII but is in a coma and Nina has to take care of him? Here's a random snippet

Nina drummed her fingers against the desk, staring hard at the question on her computer screen. It was only a practice test but her anxiety shot up with each question. It seemed dumb really considering everything.

"You don't happen to know the answer do you?" she asked, turning to look at Johnny. It had been three months since the 'accident', which was the only way she could refer to it, and he'd been unconscious since then. She'd done her best to keep his hair the way he liked it but it had gotten a little long as of late. Even with the weight loss she wasn't strong enough to hold him up long enough to cut it. Same with bathing but that required even more movements. That's why Kyle was on his way over.

She got through three more questions before Kyle knocked on the door. She'd given him a key but he still knocked before coming into the flat.

"Hey, love. How are you doing?" He pulled her into a hug as soon as the door shut. "You eat today?"

He had a bag of takeaway in his hand, just in case. She'd lost weight too.

"I did actually. I made a chicken salad," she assured, taking the bag away and putting it in the kitchen. "Thank you, though. We can eat after Johnny's bath."

"You know how eager I am to get to that." Kyle chuckled.

Nina entered the bedroom first. It wasn't really a bedroom anymore. Their bed had been replaced with a hospital bed. IVs, heart rate monitors and other devices crowded around him instead of the usual pillows and plushes.

"Johnny, Kyle's here to see you." She'd been told it was good to keep talking to him, let him know who was in the room.

"Hey mate, still sleeping?" Kyle sat in the spare chair next to the bed, he squeezed Johnny's hand. "If you don't wake up soon, I might have to steal your girl. Don't mean any disrespect but she did convince me to come over to help bathe you so she might already have me wrapped around her finger."

Nina laughed and rolled her eyes as she logged out of the practice test.

"How's studying going?"

"Okay," she shrugged.

"I do have this weird rash if you could take a look?" He jokingly started pulling up the side of his shirt. "If you're going to be a nurse, I will take advantage."

Nina waved him off, giggling.

"It is impressive, what you're doing." A look of earnestness coming over his face. "Minus the whole coma, he's pretty lucky to have you."

"It's a vegetative state." She corrected. "He has involuntary muscle movements and his eyes move a bit during painful stimuli."

"You have been studying."

"It's a little funny that the method used to determine how severe his condition is is called the Glasgow Coma Scale."

"Doesn't surprise me that's where they'd do the most research to head trauma."

"If he can hear you, he'd be very offended."

"I'm about to wash his arse. He can piss off."

"I just need you to hold him up. I'll wash his arse."

"You really are an angel."

Kyle was a good helper, it was the solider in him. He took every order of hers without question. Didn't bring up how she would steal kisses against Johnny's skin as she finished each section. He talked to Johnny, cracking jokes and letting him know recent football scores.

She couldn't say that it had gotten easier caring for Johnny. She had help, a nurse came to change his IVs, catheter and feeding tube. She was only taking the nursing classes so she could do it on her own. Simon and Kyle had warned her about burnout, offering to watch him so she could sleep or even just leave the flat for a walk. His mum and sister came down twice a month or more.

It just ate at her, that something would happen if she dared to cross the threshold. He had improved, albeit slowly but that could change any time. The brain was just a fickle thing. If he took a turn for the worse, she wanted to be there.

She never told anyone but some nights she curl up between his legs and rest her head on his thigh, a hand rubbing across his stomach. She hoped he knew she was there. That she hadn't left him. She would wait for him. If he woke up tomorrow she'd be the first person he saw.

"You ready to cut his hair, now?" Kyle asked. They were both sweaty and a little tired. She looked at Johnny. His hair did look strange with the over grown mohawk and fuzzy sides. She did like how his hair curled a little. He did need a shave but she could do that on her own.

"I think it's okay for now," She ran her hand over his forehead. "Let's eat."

Kyle had picked up Greek. They ate with the bedroom with Johnny. They had a football match playing on the telly. It felt almost normal.

"You're doing a good job." Kyle kissed the top of her head, having pulled her into another hug by the door. "If you need anything. Call me. And I'm begging you to at least sleep on the couch instead of that cot. Can't do much if your back is fucked."

"I'll try. Thank you Kyle." She missed being held like this. "I love you."

"Love you too." He gave her another quick kiss on the crown of her head before heading off.

Back in the bedroom she turned on some of Johnny's favorite music and opened her lap top to continue her test.

[c-is-for-circinate]

Kind of want to toss more snippets of things that probably won't become long extended fics up onto tumblr. So: Eddie/Chrissy, with deeply bisexual ADHD disaster child Eddie, because we deserve it. (Also background hints of Steve/Nancy, but rest assured Eddie is 100% projecting and highly incorrect about that dynamic.)

Chrissy lives, through sheer dumb luck -- a tape shoved into a player out of some vague idea in the back of Eddie's mind that he could be smooth, could maybe help a pretty girl who for some godforsaken reason seemed to like him have a good time -- and it's great, it's incredible, it's more luck than any of them should've ever dared hope for--

And Eddie is thrilled, obviously. Terrified out of his mind, pretty sure he should be running for the hills, but. Chrissy Cunningham is alive, and for some bizarre, unfathomable reason, she seems to like him.

It's just...jesus christ, what is he supposed to do with that?

It's not that Eddie doesn't like girls. Girls are pretty, and smell good, and have curves in places he's maybe imagined putting his hands a time or two (thousand), and have generally starred in at least thirty to forty percent of his favorite jerk-off fantasies for the past several years. But the general class of females of approximately his own age in Hawkins, Indiana have heretofore been somewhat disinclined to follow up on Eddie's occasional flirtations, and somehow he doesn't think the other skill set is going to be much help here.

It's just...look. Eddie knows, he knows goddamn well that for ninety-nine point nine percent of guys like him, whose eyes skate over the slope of a gentleman's broad shoulders as readily as the swell of a lady's hips, that the easy road would mean playing straight for sixty-some-odd years, marrying a nice girl who doesn't ask too many questions, and maybe getting the occasional blowjob in a truck stop bathroom from a pretty boy you pretend you don't want half as much as you actually do. Of course he knows that. He's given those blowjobs, a lot more often than he's ever had a nice girl like Chrissy Cunningham look at him twice. Because that's the thing, isn't it, once again the Munson luck striking right at the heart of things. Once again, Eddie isn't like every other guy in Hawkins or Indiana or, fuck, the whole damn world probably. Can't just do things the normal way. Has to do everything opposite, and look where that's gotten him lately.

Truck-stop bathrooms are easy. The grit of them, the feel of cold tile through thin denim, the taste of latex and the smell of musk and sweat and come, a thick-fingered hand in his hair and the press of tight muscle under his fingertips, the rush of knowing that even on his knees, he's the one with the power here -- it's good. It's so good, the back rooms of that bar in Indy where one flash of his fake ID gets him an all-access pass to all the sex a boy could want, no strings attached. Slipping into that space is almost as easy, as natural, as slipping into the DM's seat at Hellfire. He doesn't even have to change his look, just makes sure the bandana is tucked into the correct pocket and they come to him, ready to let Eddie take the reins and drag them into something just painful enough to be really satisfying when they make it through to the end.

That's the thing about being a freak. That's the thing, that's always the thing, the backwards mixed-up thing in Eddie's brain that had him reading Tolkien before he turned nine but can't get through one Charles Dickens novel without wanting to scrape himself out of his own skin. He can calculate probabilities and percentage tables for a D&D game in his sleep but can't sit still through a single math class. It took less than a week to get note-perfect on the entire Master of Puppets guitar solo and six years might not be enough to graduate high school.

So yeah, Eddie knows how to be a freak and a faggot, can take a grown man to pieces with his hands and his voice and his dick if he just clicks into that zone where he has all the power to shape the world the way he wants it. That doesn't mean he has any goddamn idea what to do when Chrissy Cunningham smiles at him like that and he trips over his own feet.

He should be looking at Harrington. Steve goddamn Harrington is striding around like that, absolutely shirtless, streaked in dirt and his own blood like some goddamn primal warrior come to life. That would be safe. Safer. Something. Pretty boy in just the right amount of pain, Eddie should be enjoying the eye candy, but he can't because: 1) they're literally in hell and monsters could come after them at any time, 2) Nancy Wheeler apparently has a bedroom full of actual guns and is still in love with her ex-boyfriend, so Eddie's pretty sure he'd better keep his eyes to himself if he wants to keep them at all, and 3) far more importantly than all of that, Chrissy is scared enough to be holding his hand and he's terrified that his palms might be sweating. She's so pretty. He wants her to actually like him so, so badly. This is an absolute nightmare.

"You doing okay?" he asks Chrissy quietly, letting her lean on his arm to help her over some rough terrain when they have to take a detour around a knot of vines. She clutches at his sleeve and smiles timidly, putting on a brave face that makes Eddie want to do something insane like find a suit of shining armor just so he can bow to her in it.

"We're going to be fine," she says. "We just have to get to Nancy's house and it'll all be okay. Right?"

"Gonna let Wheeler make you a a total badass with a gun?" Eddie asks, and then mentally kicks himself. Who flirts with a girl by calling her a total badass? How do smooth guys flirt with girls if they stick around past the initial five minutes of inviting them to come see your band, which literally no girl has ever actually said yes to before? Eddie isn't even sure he has a band any more, if Chrissy's ex-boyfriend has anything to say about it, which means he's kind of out of ideas.

Eddie has one blinding, insane moment of wondering what would Jason Carver do here? before he almost chokes on his own tongue. Fuck. He really can't do this.

"Maybe," Chrissy says, a little shy, and slides her hand down his arm to slip her palm into his again. "Do you think I could?"

There's a smudge of dirt on her perfect nose. Eddie wants to lick it off. Oh god he's a freak. You can't lick cheerleaders. Fuck, Eddie doesn't even know how to go down on a girl. Fuck, why did he think about that. It doesn't matter! He's never going to get the chance! Chrissy is never going to want him to touch her like that anyway!

"I think if the last few days have proven anything, it's that literally anything is possible," Eddie says, and then realizes he just implied that Chrissy being a badass is even more unlikely than alternate dimensions, which is probably even worse than calling her one in the first place, and holy shit, how is it even possible to be this awful at this? Why is she still standing here with him? "I mean, I could even stop being a coward who apparently runs away from absolutely everything, which I've discovered I am now, that's how weird things are, so yeah, compared to that, Chrissy, I think you could absolutely be a badass if you wanted to be."

"I don't think you're a coward," Chrissy says, and she's stepping closer, why is she stepping closer, tucking their arms together. "I mean, I couldn't even run away. He would've gotten me right there, if you hadn't..."

"Luckily I think Harrington and Wheeler are big enough heroes for all of us." Eddie catches sight of them up ahead, Wheeler on point like a hunting hound leading the way, Harrington keeping watch on all sides with that flashlight ready to spring into action at any minute. It should probably be Harrington back here with Chrissy, if he and Wheeler weren't so obviously the perfect battle couple together. Hell, even Buckley, who's up front with Nancy right now and who Eddie knows he clocked checking out Chrissy's legs earlier. She's awkward, yeah, but on her it'd be endearing, and maybe Chrissy deserves better than cowardly asshole boys for a while anyway.

She definitely deserves better than Eddie. She tugs him out of the way of a vine half a second before he trips over it in the dark, like a klutz and a dumbass, and Eddie curses himself for a failure.