#this looks cool.... but it was... a pain... to implement......... rip

[insertdisc5]

was looking through my files and found this. test for a siffrin special attack for the prologue

[vytels]

Hi everyone, I wrote something for the Mech AU based off of this post. (Pssst @keferon some angst for your au?? Which I just have to say I’m devouring every morsel of at a concerning rate)

please forgive any spelling mistakes, I wrote this in a rush

<——>

Drift Medical Implant or DMI

The DMI is a medical device that sits between the brain and skull. The size of the DMI is roughly a cubic centimeter and placed against the inside of the occipital bone, adjacent to the Drift-Neural Link Site (otherwise known as DNeLS) when a helmet is worn. This allows the DMI to connect directly to the DNeLS through the skull of the pilot.

The three major functions of the DMI are as followed:

1. Increased Drift Compatibility between pilots with the and their mecha

2. Injection site for Drift Medical Networks (otherwise known as DMeN)

3. Physical protect from surges through the DNeLS

All pilots have been required to have a DMI since the creation of Mecha 7. Various versions have been created over the years, each more advanced than the last. The DMI varies depending on the nation of origin and biomedical makeup of the pilot, but all have the same three functions and must be approved by a Chief Medical Officer before being implemented…(read on).

<——>

Everything is fine, but it wasn’t.

As Roddy gazes down upon his hands, he imagines— no remembers— them flexing out of his control and reaching forward across the controls of his mech. How cool organized breath flooded his mind, sparking at the back of his head, at the back of his helmet, before whipping across his consciousness and strangling the edges. Electronic, cold, lifeless, and so unlike anything he’d ever felt before, as it ripped him away from his body and shunned him into a corner.

He’d been a passenger in his own body, thrown onto some kind of fucked up roller coaster with no end in sight. Arms moved without his commands, but he could feel the phantom touch, the sharp brush of controls through his gloves, he could feel his heart beating. He couldn’t look away as his body moved, as it commanded his mech, as destruction sprang in its wake.

Every second was displayed to him, like a sick and twisted dream.

Even when the cockpit of his mech opened, when his body stood from its seat and stepped out into the inferno it created. A harsh determination filling his tongue, fury like no other, but Roddy knew it wasn’t his own.

“You understand, Ratchet,” He’d said, his voice sounding nothing like his own, “I’m doing this for him.”

And he’d seen the horror in the medic’s eyes as the words bounced across the room, as they seared into the scene. That very moment haunts him, digs its teeth into his mind as fear sits upon his tongue to spill guilt down his throat. He sees Deadlock’s blood, his energon, spread across the floor as the mech balances on his knees. Servos pressed against a wound in his side, a scorching smear disgracing his helm.

And Ratchet standing between them, between Deadlock and Roddy, between victim and attacker.

Yet… he flexes his hand, curling them around his knees, and they listen. His fingers dig into denim jeans, nails scratching as specks of dirt, and his lungs suck in air. Then he kicks his feet, curling his toes as his teeth bite into his lips. Roddy’s mind jumps hoops, tumbling down a list of commands.

His body listens.

But his anxiety whispers, it didn’t then.

Roddy isn’t stupid, he knows what happened and he knows the facts. Someone had drifted with him and shut his mind away in a small little box, so that they could use his body like a puppet. He had felt their thoughts at the edge of his mind, his body bludgeoned with their rage and pain. And they had wanted Deadlock, they needed him, and…

Someone had drifted with him.

Roddy’s hand shoots up to his head, fingers gliding over his skin before combing through his hair. It searches and searches before it dashes over a bump and doubles back. His nails catch over raised skin, over scar tissues, before they begin to pick and pick and pick. Thoughts reel through his head, contracts and procedures bouncing behind his eyes.

The DMI.

A little box in his head.

A little box he’d been shoved into.

A little box that had let another person drift with him, through his body.

Not just his mech.

Their mind stains his thoughts, running through his nerves and searing through his fingers. Hands reach into his own, become his own, and push him forward. They grasp onto his reality as he falls back and back into the void of space, into the passenger seat, into the box and—

He has to get it out. Now.

Fingers dig and dig, nails scraping and pulling as warm blood seeps against his fingers and trickles down his skull. That warmth dribbles down his neck as he curls fingers, pushing his nails further, tearing at the scar raised on the back of his scalp. His hands and fingers run rampant over his skull as his mind spirals, questions flinging their way through his thoughts as panic clutches at his throat.

Who would do this? Why would they do this? What do they want? What if they make me kill someone? What if they make me—

“Damn it, kid!” A deep voice cuts through his ears as hands grasp onto his wrists, yanking his hands away from his head. His eyes jump open and he realizes he doesn’t remember when he closed them, but they jump to Ratchet’s form immediately and soak in the concern and anger like a sponge.

Ratchet clutches his wrists, eyes narrowed and mouth thrown into a frustrated grimace that Roddy has seen a hundred times. It’s backdropped by bright yellow optics, staring through the darkness of night, with the same amount of concern crushing them. It is not his two friends that catch Roddy’s mind, but the blood dripping from his own hands, his fingers, and spreading over the medic’s pale skin. It rockets him back into his own body, even if he can’t feel the pain.

“I need it out, Ratchet,” Roddy finally gasps, air gulping into his lungs, “They put it in me, they knew, they— I need it out!”

“I know what happened, but you don’t know if the DMI let it happen,” Ratchet grumbles, eyes drifting from the mech pilot’s face to blood soaking into his hair.

Roddy protests immediately, “It did! I know it did!”

Ratchet’s brows narrow, lips falling into a purse and Roddy almost expects the grump to agree until he says, “Let’s get you fixed up.”

His tone squashes any arguments before they could tumble from Roddy’s lips. With the grace of experience and the rush of frustration, the old CMO herds the younger man across his home. Roddy doesn’t even get the chance to ask where the medical kit is again before it’s already in Ratchet’s hands and a stool has been placed before him, Deadlock’s small services.

Roddy doesn’t even get the chance to run or complain.

The giant alien robot leans forward, kneeling with his head ducked toward them and one servo hovering to their side. Concern radiates from him, as clear as day across his face: optics intent on the scene before him, lips creating a concentrated line, optic ridges furrowed. It’s like he wants to pick them both up, hold them close, but knows that he can’t.

Fuck, Roddy thinks, I didn’t mean to make Deadlock nervous.

Then hands rest over the sides of temples and tilt his head, forcing him to look downward as Ratchet peers at the back of his head. It’s gentle, warm.

More gentle than the perpetrator had been when they entered his mind.

“You do realize you wouldn’t have been able to claw through your skull?” Ratchet grumbles and moves, grabbing something from the medkit before turning back. “This was incredibly stupid.”

“I know, I just…” Roddy swears his tongue feels numb. “Need it out.”

Ratchet's voice falls icy. “And killing yourself would have been worth it?”

“If it meant they couldn’t use me to kill you or someone else…” Roddy’s words trail off as a sucked in breath fills the air, loud and revving. Deadlock’s reaction.

“No,” Ratchet sighs, voice softer, “Don’t be so idiotic, you’re not.”

Somehow Ratchet’s disappointment stings more than his anger, but Roddy understands. This isn’t just about what happened, not for the medic, it’s about everything that has ever happened between them. And he knows Ratchet’s views on self-sacrifice already, so it shouldn’t be a surprise.

He feels Ratchet’s fingers against his scalp, the way that they freeze for just a moment and a mental countdown begins in the back of Roddy’s head. Five, six, seven…

“What is the DMI?” Deadlock’s voice finally enters the conversation and relief glides through Roddy as his best friend saves him from Ratchet’s incoming lecture.

Instead the medic sighs, fingers beginning to move again, and he says, “It’s a medical device that pilots have. It’s a brain implant that helps them connect with their mechs and protect them from any surges.”

Deadlock hums, and Roddy knows that hum— the overgrown metal cat is pretending that he understands, before he asks, “Then why do you want it out, Roddy?”

“Because someone had to drift with me to control my body,” Roddy replies as another wave of relief lands on his shoulders. He tries to find Deadlock out of the corner of his eye, careful to not move his head lest Ratchet yell at him again. “It felt like I got shoved into a box and whoever was controlling me could do it easily. The DMI helps me drift, it connects technology to my body. If anything could help the neural link conjoin more than just minds, but also bodies, it has to be the DMI.”

“And how are you supposed to get it out?” Deadlock asks, and Roddy thinks Traitor! because he’s bringing Ratchet back into the conversation in the perfect way for the man to lecture him.

“Medical professionals are supposed to do it,” Ratchet’s voice is heavy, aimed right at Roddy’s being, “It requires a surgery, an incredibly risky medical procedure, that only the utmost qualified can perform. Not trying to rip your own skull open with your bare hands.”

Roddy tries not to grimace.

He definitely deserved that remark.

And he is ready for more when Ratchet sighs, only for the medic to ask, “Deadlock, can you…?”

“Of course,” Deadlock practically purrs back to Ratchet before gears turn and metal sings: the telltale sign of a transformation. The Cybertronian sits in his alt-mode now, engine revving before the passenger’s side and driver’s side doors swing open.

For a moment Roddy wonders if he’s third-wheeling for some weird date-thing between Deadlock and Ratchet, but the idea races from his head as Ratchet finally lets go of his head and steps away.

There’s still blood on his hands, Roddy’s blood, and he can only imagine how much blood has dried to his neck and hair. Head wounds bleed so much.

“Go get cleaned up,” Ratchet orders him, “We’re going for a drive.”

That’s enough to get Roddy off the stool, back to his feet, and scrambling across the room. He barely registers Ratchet’s call of, “Don’t pull my damn stitches!” As he careens into the bathroom to wash the blood away. The thought of getting to ride along with Deadlock is too great of a deal to pass up.

And that is exactly where he finds himself a few minutes later, saddled into the passenger seat with his head tilted toward the open window. Happiness jolts from his chest, content and joyous, as they glide through the night. The world passes by in a faint blurr of shadows and light, wind rushing over his face and pushing back his hair. All while Ratchet drives, taking over for the alien car as Deadlock skips through radio channels every few minutes with small huffs of static.

It’s warm and bright, it sinks into the young pilot’s skin and straight into his memories. It reminds him that he isn’t alone, he’ll never be alone, and he can face anything to come. As long as he has his friends by his side.

<——>

Drift Medical Networks is just all the injections and toxins that are given to pilots to make them drift compatible/etc.

Also as I was writing this and remember how much head wounds bleed, I thought Deadlock must have thought that Roddy was going to die with how much blood there was and I just— AHHHHH

[angelamajiki]

PARINGS: Pro Hero! Dabi x Sister! Reader

TW: yandere, incest, no con, voyeurism, choking, burning, unprotected/no prep sex, breeding/creampies, snowballing, public sex, degradation, lots of dirty talk

AN: WHEEWW my first fic in a while, so excited for my first join intro collab!! thank you to the lovely jo for writing it <33 enjoy

A BNHarem Server Collab! Check out the other works here.

Breaking news: We have yet another report to add to the slew of attacks this month, this comes just days after we broadcast rumours of villains running rampant over the city. This spate of attacks has put the entire metropolitan area at a standstill, road closures and damaged property making it difficult for commuters to get to work in the morning. Road maintenance endeavour to do its best to keep the city running, but it seems futile when these attacks continue to increase. The entire city was brought to a standstill by the mysterious villain who has still not been named, but reports show they are nothing like we have ever experienced before.

Where are the heroes now? Who will save us from the terror overwhelming our city?

Every day the crime toll continues to rise and we have no one here to protect us. The Hero Public Safety Commission assured us earlier in the week that the crime rate would go down, that the top Heroes are out there protecting our city, but if so, where are they? Is it really safe to go out anymore, who can we trust? Would you put your life in the hands of a Hero today? When they have proved our streets are no longer safe. We still have no information on what is going on, or who is involved but we must remain observant. We will continue to report the latest news as we receive it, but for now, we must implore you to heed the warnings of the city-wide curfew that is soon to be implemented. If anyone has any information on these occurrences in the city please send them to us or contact the police, you can remain anonymous. The safety of our citizens is what is most important, stay vigilant and don’t go out unless it is absolutely necessary.

Christ, what a load of bullshit the news was nowadays. Constantly whining and squealing about what heroes did and didn’t do, promoting fear-mongering like it was the hottest trend. Between your father and two older brothers dedicating their life to the cause of justice, the world always felt just a little safer to you, the naive little thing that you were. And tonight was no exception.

Despite the rapidly increasing crime rates, your judgment to grab a couple of drinks in the city with your friends was hardly swayed. The stress of it all was getting to you and you’d love nothing more to drink your heart out at one of the few spots still left open. It was a sleazy place, but it was fun. If anything, you found a bar in the area where your eldest brother was currently stationed patrolling.

Touya had always been protective of you ever since the two of you were children, and he carried that same possessiveness well into your adulthood. Always chasing off any potential suitors, keeping you out of trouble, and generally being a menace to anyone who thought they were good enough to be around his favorite little sister.

By the end of the night, stumbling around drunkenly was the only thing keeping you upright as you made your way out of the club and onto the street, looking for a taxi to get you home. Sirens wailed faintly in the distance, a mess of blue and red lighting up the darkened streets.

“Hey sweetheart. Need a hand?”

Grubby hands met your arms the same time the cool air of the night did, tugging and pulling at you to come closer, wherever that may be. Jaunts and laughter echoed off the buildings, only adding to the haziness the alcohol induced. “What’s a pretty little thing like yourself doing out here all on your lonesome?”

Weak attempts to push the group of assaulters off you were in vain as they groped and squeezed your body at their pleasure. “Come on, we’re just trying to keep ya company. Right, boys?”

“Stop..”

Your whine came across much more pathetic than you could have ever hoped, only earning more chuckles from the men. “Just relax, sweetheart. We’ll take good care of you.”

Blue flames danced around the group of you, closing the lot of you against the building wall in a small circle of fire.

“Will you now? Last I checked, I'm the only man suited for that.” Touya was less than amused to have found out from Fuyumi that you traveled into the city given its state, even more so when he saw how drunk and disorderly you were being.

“T-Touya-nii!”

The men untangled themselves from you with ease, tossing you into the arms of your expectant brother, who was more than glad to pull you into a tight embrace. “Shit! It's the number three, Heatstroke!”

The comforting warmth of his body and scent of his cologne settled your frantic nerves, tucking yourself closer into his arms. “Honestly, it’s like you're asking for it at this point.”

Your heart sank low in your chest, but you couldn't find the strength to move away from him as he scowled down at you.

“Look at what you're wearing, you little tease. Bet you would have loved to have them violate you, huh slut?”

Never has Touya been so venomous with you before; it made your heart hurt, even more, to see your beloved nii-san be so cruel.

“Don’t you worry, that’s why your big brother is here to show you who you really belong to.”

Shoved against the wall, he pinned your trembling form with his right knee in between your legs and his hands wandering over your skimpy dress.

“You boys can stick around to watch; let a real man show you how it's done.”

Flames singed at your dress, burning it to ashes to expose you in the cool wind of the night. Hot fingers pressed into your skin, littering marks in their wake before they wrapped around your throat. “You were just begging for nii-san to come to save your slutty ass, huh, princess? I know you checked my patrol schedule before ending up at this dive.”

His hand tightened around your neck, his lips at your ear. “Wanted nii-san to come put you in your place, yeah? After fuckin’ teasing me all these years, you finally cracked me. Are you proud of yourself, little girl?”

A whine slipped from your constricted throat, your smaller hand gripping at the large one squeezing you with everything it had. “And now you've got an audience to witness my ownership over you. You're mine, little girl.”

Finally releasing your throat, his hands traveled down to your chest and groped at your roughly, pinching and pulling at your soft, sensitive nipples. Bile was rising in your throat as you drowned in your own fear, feeling him drag you into the depths of depravity.

“What’s the matter, imouto? I thought you said I was your favorite. You're hurting my feelings, y’know.”

“Touya, please-”

A scoff slapped you hard in the face as his knee jerked up against your cunt. “Don’t start with me. I know who you really are and what you really want, even better than yourself.”

His words stabbed at your heart, and his wandering hands only seemed to pour salt over the wounds. “You’re nothing more than my whore, little sister.”

Hips ground against your backside in a slow, teasing manner, groans pushing past his lips as he did so. “You have no one to blame but yourself.”

His erection was pressed flush against you, straining in his pants before he unzipped himself. At this point, you were more than sobered up running on fear and adrenaline alone. Your panties were ripped clean off with his free hand while the other stroked his hardening cock. “Look at me.”

The tip was aligned with your hole, rubbing slightly to gather the minimal wetness between your lips. “I said look at me.”

Teary eyes peaked up at him through wet lashes, silently pleading with a man who was not known for mercy.

“Good fuckin’ girl, so obedient for your big brother.”

With one snap of his hips, Touya fully sheathed himself inside of your tight cunt, groaning at the way you squealed for him. “Aw, you like that, huh, princess. Feeling good?”

A warbled moan was the only response you could give him as he slowly began to pull out. The alcohol had you buzzing enough to block out the pain of the stretch, and damn did you feel filled to the brim.

“Can’t wait to breed this greedy little cunt of yours.”

His pace was slow, agonizingly so. Touya couldn't help but savor every second of the first time having been inside you, especially after dreaming about it for so long. God, if it didn't turn him on to have an audience, knowing that these men knew he was fucking his sister.

What would the media think? God, the news cycle would be ripped to shreds tomorrow over this breaking story. But hey, no PR is bad PR.

The thought of finally having staked his claim in you almost had him coming prematurely, but he had to hold out for your very first time together, and it certainly wouldn't be the last.

Heh, your crying face was so cute. Those tears weren't shy by any means and neither were your sobs. It's alright, you’ll learn to love being Touya’s cocksleeve.

“Say you love me.”

An impossible request when you're being violated by the person you held dearest to your heart.

His pace had picked up brutally, slamming into you without care for his flames spreading wildly nor the group of assaulters who seemed to vanish once they had the opening to.

“I-I love you, nii-san! I love you!”

Your cries were shrill and whiny, echoing into the chaotic night. The grip on your hips was heating up, so much so that his handprints were burned into your love handles.

“Good girl, good little slut.”

His breathing was erratic, hot against your neck as he growled and grunted into your ear. “Gonna let nii-san breed this pretty little pussy? Yes, you are. I know you are because you're fuckin’ mine, bitch.”

Moaning out your name, Touya came deep inside your womb, thick ropes of his cum painting your insides. You were soon to follow thanks to his thumb against your clit, causing you to writhe and whine in his arms.

Utterly spent, you rested against the brick wall you were pinned to, feeling the cum drip out of your still filled hole.

“Let’s get you home and into my bed, princess. I gotta go have a chat with Dad and Shouto, let ‘em know you’re fully off limits now.”

— tagging: @libiraki @bonesoftheimpala @tomurasprincess @sightoru

[equestrianwritingsstuff]

Fugitives

Somehow inspired by @chicken0mcnugget and her sister and my sister's more than lovely camping adventure. Somehow, I don't know how. Maybe part 2 if I write it (no promises) will match up to my wild imagination's interpretation of a camping trip. Perhaps, it is a possibility.

Warnings: collapse, passing out, field medicine, blood, gunshot wounds, screaming, gagging roughly for own good, intensive description of possibly gorey wound care, betrayal, some language, going into shock, IV and needles.

~

"Stop," Villain wheezed, sinking to his shaking knees. "I-i need-" cough, "I need help."

Hero stopped running and looked over her shoulder to see Villain half-collapsed on the ground, holding his abdomen.

"We both need help, Villain. Now get up and run. They'll be here soon," Hero trotted back to her nemesis.

"Mmnh," Villain gurgled, his face an eerie shade of pale yellow. He swayed from his kneeling position, keeling sideways, eyes rolling back-

"Oh my gosh," Hero caught Villain as he fell limp into her arms.

"Wake up!" Hero patted Villain's burning cheek repeatedly. "Damn it Villain," she groaned when he didn't wake.

Hero felt at loss. They were running away from authorities in the middle of the woods, exhausted and sore, with no shelter, water, and food in sight.

And now she had an unconscious villain to deal with.

Hero removed the hands placed so precariously on his stomach to reveal a spot of bloodstained fabric. Hero silently cursed to herself and rolled up his shirt.

The sight made her stomach drop. He had not one, but two bullet wounds in his stomach. One was quite deep and bleeding profoundly whereas the other still had the champagne bullet casing, blocking the precious crimson plasma's flow.

He was shot, Hero stressed to herself, trying to figure out what to do. She vaguely remebered a series of gunshots, but Villain promised that he was okay.

And now...

Hero stopped her thoughts suddenly and stood up, cradling Villain tenderly. He was bigger, without a doubt, but between her fitness and touch of super strength, she succeeded.

"I got you," she whispered to the sleeping villain before taking off at a lopsided jog.

"Villain what are you doing here?" Hero asked, approaching the tall, leather-cladden figure.

"Saving you," Villain replied, running to close the distance and grabbing Hero's arm. "Your team, they set you up. We need to go!"

"What are you talking about?" Hero chuckled, easily shaking Villain's hand off.

"They are-"

A click.

A scuffle of feet.

"Well this, my friends, is a win-win," an all too familiar chortle sounded.

Villain spun around, stepping back to stand parallel to Hero's shoulder. His breaths were hitched, proof of his nervous anticipation.

Hero, on the other hand, was mystified by the scene. Her hands trembled as beads of sweat started to form around her amber hair line. Realization flooded into every vein and all she wanted to do was sink to the ground and give up.

They betrayed her.

Her team betrayed her.

Leader stepped into the single light spot in the warehouse. Even though it was mid-day, the shadows made it look like it was night.

"We have our darling Hero here, and her nemesis. Arrest them," Leader ordered.

Villain lunged at Leader, going for his neck. More scuffles of feet determined that there were more heroes to fight off, but injuring, or killing, Leader would slow them down.

Villain and Leader fell to the ground with a grunt, punching, and hitting, and lashing until Villain was able to smack the golden boy's head against the concrete floor.

Villain discarded his prey and hurried to assist Hero in taking down two muscular, lithe heroes. They were twins, evident in their matching black ponytails.

"You know the pay for your head," one sneered, licking her bloodied lip. "Is more than what I had to pay for my house."

"Hmm," the other laughed. "Not only that, but you are on every 'wanted' billboard in the city."

Hero said nothing, just kept striking punch after punch- most of the time missing.

Then, as if on impulse, Villain grabbed Hero's shoulder and led her to a window. "Hang onto me," He said and closed his eyes.

Then there was a shot... then two... a brief hiss and then they were in the forest...

"Villain are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. I promise."

Hero stumbled across an abandoned cabin. A moldy door guarded the entrance and windows were bashed in, but it supplied the dire need for shelter.

Inside, cupboards hung lazily on rusted hinges, creaking as they swayed with the cool draft. A rat-infested couch was hidden in a damp corner with moss growing at the bottom. The only somewhat useful piece of furniture was the metal table in the center.

It was odd to be accompanied by such a modern implement when the rest of the trashy building looked like it belonged in a landfill. Either way, Hero sat on the table, testing its strength. When it passed the test, Hero laid Villain upon it softly and began to inpect the bullet wounds again. The bad one stopped bleeding, but it still looked increasingly painful even though Villain was still unconscious.

Satisfied that Villain wouldn't die, yet, Hero started to search the minimally stocked cupboards. She found a handful of bungee cords, tiny nails as if the former homeowners were into hobby crafts, a mason jar, a metal rod, a various collection a thread, some sort of hemp material, and expired medicines.

She grabbed the nails and thread and walked back to Villain. It was far from ideal to use the nails to stitch, but it was all she had and would have to make do.

Hero tied the thread right under the head, praying that Villain wouldn't get tetanus from the rust particles, and started to sew the larger wound together.

As by some misdeed sent from hell, Villain awoke, screaming like a hungry baby bird. Hero left the nail half-dangling in his flesh and dug her hand into Villain's mouth.

"Shhhh," she cooed. "Someone could be out there. We are apparently fugitives now, remember? Remember the fight?"

It seemed to drain all of Villain's energy, but he nodded. Yet, the second Hero let go of his mouth, he started to curl into himself, whimpering.

"Knock that off," Hero chided and stretched Villain back out. "I need to access that wound."

Villain mewled, but didn't move.

"Okay..." Hero breathed and with a quivering hand, pushed the needle into the ruin skin. Villain hissed, abs flexing, but didn't holler until the head started to pull through Villain's skin.

Oh boy, did he scream. It was like a dying cougar, wild and ragged. Hero, ignoring the wordless pleas for mercy, laced the nail through. It made a small puncture wound, but it had to be done.

"I'm sorry!" Hero rushed over to Villain's head, gathering it into nervously shaking arms that were fueled by adrenaline. Villain's eyes started to glaze over and slip above his eyelids.

She couldn't keep doing this. Every pass, partnered with a screech, and then rushing to comfort Villain would take too much precious time.

Time that could be spent getting as far away as they could from the ravaging heroes.

Thinking briskly, Hero grabbed the metal rod with the tiniest bungee she could find, and appeared again at Villain's head.

"I'm so sorry about this," Hero apologized, and forced the rod into Villain's limply hanging mouth. The villain's eye widened and darted frantically around, searching for the cause of his discomfort.

Hero ignored the obvious signals of distress and pulled Villain's head up. She looped the center of the bungee to one side and then took one strand to do the same on the other. She then attached the hooks together and laid Villain's head down.

A pillow would also be more than ideal. The inevitable thrashing of the head would more likely than not cause some sort of head injury- whether substantial or not.

But Villain would have to do without.

Hero went back to the gaping wound on his stomach and resumed her threading... in... out... in... out...

Everytime, the nail head would have to be roughly pulled through, and everytime more tender skin would rip. Villain thrashed, smacking his head against the unrelenting metal and kicking out with his legs. Hero tried to get by with just sitting on his legs, but the flailing arms also proved to be a problem. She got up, once again leaving the needle haphazardly in the villain's wound, and returned with the hemp fabric.

She tied each wrist and each ankle with the scratchy material, snug. Villain who was resisting the friendly torture immediately fell back into his newfound restraints, sniffing pitifully.

"I'm sorry," Hero tried to reason, but her delirious and exhausted ward was beyond negotiations.

Hero sighed and continued to tend to Villain's wound. Villain pulled back as much as the taut restraints allowed; he bit down against the metal gag until his mouth begun to bleed. Hero winced, concerned that he broke a tooth.

When the first hole was completely stitched up, Hero cut the azure colored thread and strung some more out. She retied it to the nail and set them down against the table.

Hero noticed that the table was beginning to get slick with blood and sweat.

She then examined the bullet. The other one must've fell out when Villain teleported the pair. The dark beige color shone compared to the deep mahogany blood. Hero took two nails out and placed them on both sides of the bullet like chopsticks and tried to use the leverage to launch it.

She succeeded and the bullet just barely brushed against her ear, but the wound began to bleed heavily. Hero groaned and shoved her hand into the bleeding waterfall to staunch it.

Her ears started to ring as her heart pumped faster. Villain's body slumped against the table, his face going pale. Hero gasped for breathing, the wires in her brain not connecting. She didn't know what to do.

She messed things up, now Villain was bleeding out again.

Hero removed one hand and tried to tear a piece of the hunter green shirt she was wearing off; but she couldn't, the cotton material was stubborn.

"Shit," Hero gasped, walls of anxiety closing in around her. The air suddenly felt so heavy as if a furnace was just installed. Her hands trembled, not knowing what to do.

"Think Hero, think," Hero muttered outloud. If she released pressure, Villain would surely bleed out.

Hero leaned all her weight onto the wound. Villain gasped, trying to crawl away. His skin was clammy and unnaturally pale- even more blanch than before. His eyes kept rolling up into his skull before returning to a more neutral place.

His chest heaved in irregular breaths as his stomach convulsed...

He was going into shock.

Hero groaned and grabbed the end of her shirt and brought it to her mouth. She bit it and ripped it all the way to her ribcage. She replaced her sticky hands with the cloth and stuffed it into the wound. It slowed down on bleeding, and the shirt was thick enough to give Hero some time to help with the shock.

She ran to the cupboards and found a bucket. Bringing that over to Villain, she elevated his legs. He was gasping for air now and didn't seem entirely conscious.

She then took off his jeans and laid them over his legs. She remembered learning about shock in her early heroic classes- keep the victim warm and remove restrictive clothing.

She left his rolled up shirt and leather jacket on.

His pulse was insanely weak and too fast as if he was intoxicated. Hero pursed her lips and gently tapped Villain awake.

"Stay awake," she pleaded. "I know it's hard."

Villain lips quivered and he coughed up some thick, starchy liquid.

Blood.

Hero turned Villain to his side and allowed him to spill the scarlet color. All the while, she kept a close eye on the wound. The shirt was nearly drenched.

I could tie a tourniquet, Hero realized and gathered some of the hemp. She deftly wrapped it around Villain's mid torso and pulled it taut.

Stepping back from her work, Hero knew that she had to call someone. A hospital was a no, even with Villain in shock. She could give him a blood transfusion...

If there was adequate IV lines.

Hero rushed to the cupboards once again. It was a long shot, but it was the only thing she could do.

Find an IV line, She told herself- the request was weak though, no one could find an IV in an abandoned cabin.

Find an IV.

And that she did.

Not even wondering what use the prior homeowners had for an IV, Hero inserted the needle in her vein, immediately filled with gratitude for her O type blood and attached the other end into Villain's elbow.

She gave him enough blood until some of his color returned and he fell into an uneasy sleep.

Hero finished stitching the wound. Villain remained sleeping the whole time. She then removed the rod from his mouth and stuffed some more of her shirt on both sides of his mouth where the blood origin was.

Finally, when all the work was done, Hero laid next to Villain and wrapped an arm around his chest. He melted into the comfort, whimpering silently. Hero smiled and closed her eyes, asleep immediately.

She didn't notice the security camera in the corner of the building. The one with the blinking red light.

[eremosjournal]

Catholicism vs. Culture

Any Filipino knows the importance of faith. Or how important faith is supposed to be. It is the glue of family life, the legacy of our devout Lolas, and the passion project of our mothers. Catholicism seemed to bolster the pillars of Asian family life that already stood so firmly at the center of my elders’ beliefs: tradition, discipline, and superstition. We never missed mass. My siblings and I attended Catholic school, received all our sacraments, and participated in church activities like choir and youth group. The picture of faith was painted for me.

It was also important to my dad that we knew Philippine history. He would give mini lectures about Magellan and the indigenous Filipino soldier who killed him, Lapu-Lapu (who for some reason is super ripped in all of his artistic renderings). I would picture Lapu-Lapu and weigh his image against that of Jesus, and somehow he felt more real than Jesus. Having been (erroneously) inundated with images of white Jesus, it felt deliciously naughty to think of Lapu-Lapu slaying white, Catholic Magellan, the Spaniard who claimed my parents’ homeland against the grief and rage of all of its rightful Filipinos. When hearing the gospel or doing saint reports at school, I wished there were characters as cool (and swole) as Lapu-Lapu. I wondered, Why isn’t he a saint? He did a good thing. He risked his life for others. Isn’t that what we’re supposed to do?

Then I realized Lapu-Lapu couldn’t have been a saint because he wasn’t Christian. And it hit me: no one in my family would be Catholic without Spain. Without colonization. Without exploitation and rape and torture. The practice that is held so dearly in the hearts of my mother and her mother and my father’s mother was borne in an act of theft. How could my parents know our troubled heritage and still impose this filthy faith on us? With all the homeland pride I was taught, how could we perpetuate a tradition that is so reflective of our ancestor’s pain, so rooted in cultural robbery, so…Euro? Did the diaspora…betray me? My faith and my heritage were at odds. I pictured my ancestors looking down on me in my white first communion dress, shaking their heads and eating mango.

Now, as a non-practicing Catholic adult, I understand my parents’ choice to raise me in the church. As immigrants, they chose to implement the part of their culture that grounded them, even if it was a symbol of cultural erasure. The feeling of home - balay in my parents’ native Cebuano - is a kind of faith in itself. We follow that feeling, through people, through customs, and sometimes through religion. Though the church failed to give me this feeling, I see now that, with all its insidious colonial history, Catholicism gave my parents a piece of the home they had to leave. As badly as I wish I could know who my family would be without colonialism, I have to accept that religion - voluntary or otherwise - doesn’t work against my culture. It’s part of it.

by Elise Letrondo

[oopsiedoopsie23]

Overdose part 3 | Machine Gun Kelly x reader

A/N: I’M SORRY! I know, I know I literally said that this would come out a couple weeks ago but school and life in general has been up my ass and I’ve had literally no inspiration whatsoever. But on a lighter note, the support and love I’ve been receiving for this series has been amazing! This has been the first time that I’ve implemented songs into my fics and I’ll definitely be looking forward to creating more song fics in the future since y’all love them so much. Anyways, I honestly think this is pure shit but I didn’t think it was fair for y’all to wait any longer for this. Hope your eyeballs enjoy :)

Prompt: The aftermath of the reader’s overdose

Warnings: swearing, mentions of drugs, mentions of death, mentions of overdose

part 1 | part 2

And if I must go and die at 27 Then at least I know I died a legend Now, will you roll and ride like we're together? And keep the vibe alive inside forever And feel me forever

You opened your eyes slowly, the bright lights and your heavy eyelids making the task of opening your eyes nearly impossible. 

You let your eyes flutter closed once again and resided to weakly squeezing whoever’s hand was loosely gripped around your own. 

“Oh my god...Y/N?”

“Nurse! We need a nurse! She’s waking up!”

You heard scuffling around you, taking that as a sign to try to open your eyes once again, this time succeeding. 

You squint under the bright lights, looking around the room in confusion at the faces of your parents smiling widely.

“W-where’s Colson?”

They say I need to slow down, but I don't know how

You should have known something was wrong when your mom’s smile slightly faltered and your dad’s jaw clenched, but your mind was hazy and all you could think about was your ex-boyfriend.

“Don’t worry about it honey, he won’t be coming near you ever again.”

You gave a shocked look at your dad, tears immediately pooling in your eyes. 

“What do you mean? W-what are you saying? Is this some kind of joke?”

Your heart was pounding and you could faintly hear the beeping of your heart monitor begin to quicken. 

“Honey look at me, calm down please.”

“No, don’t tell me to calm down! Where is he! Mom, please! I-I need to talk to him, I need to see him!”

Nurses were now scrambling into the room, trying to say soothing words and reassurances to you but you couldn’t hear them. 

Yeah Real feelings from past dealings When people counted me out 'til I grew up to count millions, uh Like I guess it's good to be different, huh? I'm a star so the sky isn't the limit, huh?

“He’s no good for you Y/N. He’s not worth it.”

Your heart felt like it was going to burst out of your chest.

“No! You don’t know what happened! I did this! Please, just let me see him, please I need to talk to him!”

You were screaming and thrashing, dignity flying out the window as you pleaded for Colson. 

I'm living like it's my last day Smoke as if there's not already 27 roaches in the ashtray Smile as if no one hated at all As if anyone understood anytime I evolved Tell me what do you do when your dreams come true? Buy a Bentley and look just like you? How am I supposed to write a song when I'm famous And all the pain is created?

“Can’t you see what he’s done to you, Y/N?!” Your dad’s voice was booming and he was slightly held back by your mom, “He did this! He’s turned you into a drug-fuelled monster!”

“No!” 

You screamed as nurses began to hold you down to try to stop you from thrashing around.

“You overdosed, Y/N! You overdosed because of him!” 

And just as your dad spat those last words at you, the nurses stabbed a needle into your arm, quickly pressing down on the plunger.

I need to overdose on inspiration 27

You felt your vision become spotty and your eyelids becoming heavy once again. 

“Please...I-I need to see him.”

Why don't you just go home? Well, I can't right now, I'm a rolling stone

Colson ran into the hospital, skidding to a stop at the nurses station to ask for directions before being directed to a small room at the end of the hall. 

But just as he reached out for your door handle, he hears a booming voice interrupt the quiet of the hospital,

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!”

Colson turned around and mentally groaned at the sight of your dad.

It wasn’t like Colson hated your dad, but your dad definitely hated Colson. He always made it clear that he believed that dating Colson would only lead you back to the drug-heavy life that you had once endured. 

But was he wrong?

“I can’t go into that room to see my daughter but this fool can?”

The older man stepped closer towards Colson, shrugging your mom’s hand off of his shoulder,

“You’re the reason why she overdosed! You’re the reason why she’s in that bed! You’re the reason why she almost died!”

Colson kept his head down, knowing that if he looked into the screaming man’s eyes he would either burst into tears, punch him in the face or both, and none of those options would do him any good.

“You’ve got some fucking nerve showing up here.”

“Y/D/N, calm down.” 

Your mom gently nudged your dad away from Colson, letting the older man cool off, before turning to Colson,

“Go home Colson, now isn’t the right time to visit her.”

But before she could walk away Colson responded, 

“With all due respect Ms. L/Y/N, I would like to stay...I don’t think that any time would be the right time.”

The older woman paused, signalling that she was listening to whatever Colson had to say,

“I know that I fucked up by letting her go...sh-she was the best thing that’s ever happened to me and I’m so fucking sorry that I didn’t realize how much I loved her until I found her laying on the floor. I know that I’ve hurt her but please...please just let me see her.”

Silence filled the small hallway.

“I’ll keep him out of her room for as long as I can.”

And if I must go, and fly away And kiss my baby girl goodnight And if this really is goodbye Then let's set the city on fire Can you take me higher? Now, can you take me higher? Can you take me higher? Can you take me higher?

Colson sat with you, placing his larger hand over yours, watching your chest move up and down, the only thing reassuring him that you were still with him. 

If I must go, die at 27 Then at least I know I died a legend Will you roll and ride like we're together? And keep the vibe alive forever Keep the vibe alive forever

“Colson?”

Colson’s head snapped up at the sound of your hoarse voice,

“Your awake! Y-your fucking awake!” 

He immediately jumped up and wrapped his arms around yours, engulfing you in a nearly suffocating hug, but both of you have wide smiles on your face.

“Um Colson I just escaped death, I don’t really want to die, now.” 

“Sorry, sorry.” 

He gently loosened his hold on you, backing away, letting the two of you properly look at the other for the first time in months. 

You attempt to break the awkward silence that had entered the room,

“You look like shit.”

Colson chuckled, “You don’t look much better.”

“Hey at least I have an excuse, what’s yours?”

You watch as his face pales and his smile falters.

Stupid. So fucking stupid.

Colson sighs and runs his hand through his hair,

“Colson, I’m sorry, I’m so stupid I shouldn’t have sai-”

“Are you using again?”

Your eyes widen as he suddenly interrupts you,

“I-I...no.”

“Y/N...look at me.”

He gently nudges your chin so that you were now looking at him in the eyes.

“I found a vial in your room with leftover cocaine in it.”

“I-I” 

You were at a loss for words, your guilt eating up your dignity and pride.

“Look it’s okay, I know that it’s been a fucking hard couple of months but I need you to be honest and tell me how long you’ve been using for.”

You looked down, breaking the steady eye contact between the two of you, choosing to instead look at your fiddling hands,

“It was only one time...this was the first time that I had used since becoming sober.”

“Y/N...”

“It’s true, Colson! I’m fucking telling the truth!”

Your voice rises and you could see the disappointment in his eyes.

“I-I wasn’t handling our breakup well...but I was holding on.”

“Then what changed?”

Colson’s voice was soft, easily lowering the rising tension that you had brought into the room with your outburst.

“I...I heard the song...the song you wrote about me...about us and the breakup.”

Silence filled the room once again until Colson finally responded,

“Fucking shit!”

I let these words seep through my soul And speak through the song 'Cause if one day, I'm no longer here in the physical Then at least I give you my voice to listen to

You flinch but keep your head down, not wanting to show him the uncontrollable tears that were rolling down your cheeks. 

But out of the corner of your eye you can see him, pacing around the room, muttering profanities under his breath and, looking like he was going to rip his hair out. 

Finally he stops pacing and stands at the foot of your hospital bed, 

“Y/N, please you have to believe me, I was drunk and angry and fucking pissed off at everyone and everything when I wrote that song, I didn’t even want to release it but management was up my ass about releasing new music and I had no choice and I didn’t really think of you and I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

And at that moment you could see it.

You could see how desperate and scared he was. 

But he wasn’t just scared because of your reaction to the song. 

He was scared of losing you forever. 

And he almost had.

What is a beautiful life without a beautiful death? What is a beautiful mind, how is our beauty defined? Is it for you to decide, is it my duty to die?

You open your arms letting him cautiously walk into them,

“When I overdosed...I called you for a reason.”

You watched as a small smile slowly spread across Colson’s face,

“Is it because I was the one who caused all of your pain and misery?”

You scoffed and playfully rolled your eyes,

“Well you did...but also because I love you Colson Baker...always have and, always will.”

No matter how I'm remembered, just let me be remembered Kells Yeah, forever young, though, haha Always be those crazy kids running wide-eyed down the boulevard, huh 27 Bloom

@nowhereiswhereibelong @dreamlesswonder86 @mayaslifeinabox @deanwinchesterswife121 @honeymelon22 @poorlittlesuperstar @trashbonesroyale ​ @vladsgirlxx @k-a-t-h-r-y-n-sbin @1teen1dream @bolivianchickennugget @bakerkells @hotel-colson @wesleypiper @sataninsatin @lolychu

[secret-engima]

Nyx adopting ALL the strays! Naruto and Hinata are now his. Chouji gets added to the group (though not full out kidna- ahem, adopted, because his Clan's good) after Nyx hears kids making fun of him for being big (and look, Nyx was brothers with LIB) and Shikamaru tags along. Then it's Shino because everyone thinks he's creepy and Nyx is like, I've seen creepy and bby!Aburame are Not It. (Also Nyx starting after school training because he wants his classmates to LIVE dammit, and oh, if- (1/)

a-world-in-grey

said:

-Nyx implements Titus-style training (RIP everyone), I can see a number of crushes dying painful deaths because of the Hell Training that Nyx!Sasuke thinks is FUN.) Mind you, that would also ensure that Sasuke's graduating class is THE scariest class to graduate in a long time and they might even shatter that 33% passing rate for the Genin Tests. And because this is Nyx, he insists on regular get-together/training, which means their teamwork is THROUGH THE ROOF even outside the established (2/)

Me: If there was a third or fourth part to this ask, Tumblr ate it. Sorry. But like-

YESSSSSS.  I’m gonna straight up need a list of all the kiddos Nyx adopts and when he adopts them but just- yesssssss. He likes Chouji, Chouji is a sweetheart, and he also likes giving Shika brain puzzles that actually CHALLENGE him (because, you know, the puzzles of a different culture aren’t as easy as the puzzles of one’s own culture.) Shino is cool, not creepy and Nyx totally says so. Loudly and repeatedly. Shino is blushing under his collar.

Nyx 100% starts an after school training club that continues into their genin days because YOU’RE ALL GONNA SURVIVE THIS NUTTY WORLD GOT IT. He starts small, building up the routines and complication, until one day Kiba (who is not one of Nyx’s Adopted but still invited because Kid and Classmate) whines that this is boring and he wants a challenge.

Naruto, who lives with Sasuke now, and Hinata who gets extra attention during training from Sasuke because Smol Shy Child, both blanch in terror.

Nyx grins.

And then Titus’s hell training makes its appearance.

Everybody hates Kiba for this. So much. XDD

The Hokage and Co are so baffled when this class blows the 33% graduation rate out of the freaking water. Even the CIVILIAN kids are terrifying. How do?

Nyx, under his breath: Because if you’re gonna have child soldiers then you need to actually TRAIN THEM LIKE SOLDIERS you utter nitwits.

Nyx bullies everyone into Class Reunions whenever they can between missions and runs them through a ringer before rewarding them with Good Food and Storytime.

Also I am now picture one of the adults/sensei’s eventually getting curious about why their students vanish into the Uchiha Clan grounds every week and show up and Nyx doesn’t bat an eye. Just hollers “You enter the forest you run the course!” And somehow the sensei’s are goaded into trying out the hell course. But it can’t be that bad right? This is a course meant for genin, created by a genuine. They’re jonin it will be fine.

3 Hours Later: They are most definitely not fine.

Nyx is Unimpressed. Come on senseis you didn’t even beat Shika’s record and he doesn’t even TRY beyond the bare minimum for survival.

The only Sensei who does Fine is Might Guy and even he’s a bit winded which is Pretty Darn Telling (admittedly Nyx did make the course harder for the sensei and the students were all too happy to test their skills against their unsuspecting teachers but still).

[reddogcollar]

thinking more if my funny little rewrite thoughts so like. here's an entire run down of what I'd do with season 1 of my pride

under the cut cuz its long and like. warning for like. everything that already happens in the series anyway

starting first! with the naming conventions. so the whole naming scheme is appropriation of indigenous culture. and I'm white so take this one with a grain of salt but replacing that mess with instead the mother naming the cub after a trait after getting to know em would. probably fix it? Like naming a cub Power or Tenacious and. stuff

the names could not only be personality based but just general descriptors. Quick for someone fast, Golden for someone blonde, Cherished for someone especially loved by their mother. Names could also be based off something they want the child to be, like Fearless or Perceptive. naming a child after something they don't start as, but turn out to be instead would make everyone to regard the mother as an especially good one for knowing her child so well. Being wrong would have the opposite effect. Waiting too long would bring scorn, implying you don't spend enough time with your child to think of any name at all.

Prideless lions wouldn't be named by their parents at all, instead given the right to name themselves based on what they think. This leaves room for them to rename themselves as grow and change, something pride lions cant do. Until the cub names themselves, the mother will refer to them with affectionate nickname.

and I think that. fixes that issue. onto plot

I think episode 1 is fine left alone, though all three children would be left unnamed. though I think its weird how quick managed to rip off the skin all around nothing's eye but didn't actually damage it. Like at all. so she's half blind now too.

So they go on lion trial, power saying quick is unfit because he was bested by a cub, so there's no way he could've beat star fairly. sharp calls forth the currently unnamed fire to ask his opinion as a supposed witness. even though I'm pretty sure he ran away before star died? eh <3

despite having the chance to get rid of quick, he says it was fair and quick has earned the pride. whether or not that's true, fire is a devout believer in pride law and a pride without a mane would be worse than a pride lead by a cheating mane.

because nothing and quick each half blinded each other, they go with the law of equivalent exchange. one each gets something from the other. nothing asks for her and her brother's lives to spared, and quick asks that she always takes as little resources as possible

instead of like. skipping 2 years. it would instead actually like. show the childhood. how nothing is ignored by her on mother, and doted on by fire. specifically because he think she's weak. despite doting on her, he also generally ignores her opinions.

even as a little wounded baby she gets the least food and water, enforced by quick and even fire sometimes, rules are rules. some of the unnamed adults will try to cheat this tho and get her more food and water cuz Holy Shit? Dude?

when she's a little older and not. covered in open wounds. the adults more or less stop trying to protect her. she's on her own now, and they have cubs of their own to worry about anyways.

since time is also a resource she gets the least of that too, most notably the least time being trained in anything. hunting, fighting, tracking, she's taught the absolute least.

despite that, she always tries.to do the absolute most. first to volunteer for anything she could theoretically do, last to get picked for any minorly important task. getting ridiculed for doing things slower due to her limp, to the point where she starts trying to just power through the pain to walk normally. it only slows her down and she gets mocked more. fire generally doesn't stand up for her, just makes her lay down

eventually she starts getting out a bit. The younger cubs mock her, their parents don't stop them, her mom never speaks to her unless its to antagonize her, and quick is downright terrifying. despite being healed up, fire never leaves her alone and disregards her when she wants to be alone.

this is how she meets hover, who is now named insightful. bc I just inexplicably cant stand the name Hover for a lion. she thinks she's insightful, but she's kind of just snarky and a little mean without saying anything w real depth, probably bc they're all prepubescent

despite being snarky and a little mean, she's a breath of fresh air to nothing cuz she's yk. not ableist and calls fire out when he starts acting ableist. its a short interaction, and when they're home fire immediately goes to tell his mom there's not only a prideless lion in their territory, but a cub, implying her mother and possibly siblings are around. cuz he's a little bitch

nothing gets into an argument with him over it, she could've been their friend after all, and both fire and her mom yell at her for even thinking about disobeying pride law

not sure what else to do here, so skip to when they're 2 and fires about to be kicked out. they're both still nameless, bringing a lot of bad opinions power's way. she's also required to name at least fire before he leaves. so she sits down, rolls her eyes, and half asses the name fire. quick is about to push him out but nothing interrupts, saying she still needs a name.

power gets annoyed and demands what she could even be named after, her injury? her disregard for the law? her ability to butt in at the most annoying times? nothing sputters, shocked and unable to come up with a response for a moment. before she can, she's named nothing

she protests, and even fire thinks that's a lot. they're both shut down, by power and quick respectively. most of the present adults are shocked, some of the older ones even appalled. none step in though. fire has to go, and nothing leaves toward the watering holes so she doesn't cry in front of her mom. all that stupid shit is internalized though so she starts trying again to support her full weight on her leg no matter how much it hurts. thinking maybe it broke and healed so wrong that it can barely support her now. idk I'm no doctor

she ends up laying down by the water, feeling all bad and in pain. then she notices the crocodile and some other lion and yada yada saves her life. insightful immediately recognizes her and that stops nothing from chasing her off. they catch up a little until they hear someone coming. insightful runs off and farleap, now called jumper comes out of the grass.

she questions nothing, she heard something and she can definitely smell a stranger. nothing lies and said she just chased off a prideless. jumper doesn't seem convinced, but doesn't push it because the stranger is gone, at least. so she just gets her drink and nothing goes home. and that's the day.

next day we can be introduced to feather, now named light. he's the runt of his litter, the lightest color of his siblings, and the light of my life. his name has nothing to do with the reincarnation stuff, which ill get into later. he gets teased for being smaller than his sisters, but keeps up an over energetic, happy mood that children have. he prefers hanging out with nothing though, seeing as she's not gonna be mean to him for being short.

he refuses to leave her alone to the point of finding out when nothing starts sneaking out to see insightful. their little dates go all nice and cute until light jumps out of the bushes scaring the life out of them. nothing freaks out a little because holy fuck? quick's son just found her out? oh god oh fuck! insightful is just amused though, because children are funny.

they make light swear to keep it a secret, and he promises. as long as nothing lets him go with her whenever he wants, because its fun breaking the rules and being out at night. it's a little less fun third wheeling on your cousin's date when you're like 7 but its fine cuz insightful plays with him

everyone thinks its pretty weird how both nothing and light are getting exhausted in the middle of the day, and jumper is still on that "I don't believe that you chased that prideless off" stuff, and eventually convinces power of increasing like patrol or whatever, and everyone keeps their guard up, making it harder for nothing and insightful to meet

this spurs nothing to ask insightful to join, to which insightful asks her to leave the prides and go with her. nothing says she doesn't want insightful to just have to take care of her and it goes back and forth and its a whole thing. it turns into an argument and they part ways for the night before it can escalate further.

the next morning, insightful has shown up and is asking to join. mostly so she can spend more time trying to convince nothing to leave the prides with her.

they get convinced and she is stripped of her name immediately. either quick or power will rename her when they come with something suitable. of course she is. upset as all hell. she swallows it though, since she's never seen nothing so happy. light is ecstatic, also, cuz he thinks she is cool.

go through some time showing insightful being worn down by pride life, nothing still continuing to practically destroy her body to make herself palatable, and light being downright bullied because he's still smaller than his everyone his age. quick even starts looking down on his son cuz Why Is He Still So Small? light begins to resent his father, and pride life a little.

jumper is rude as hell, naturally. except this time insightful actually stands up for nothing by cuz holy shit? that's your girlfriend why wouldn't you help her?

we can also implement the homophobia rule here. because of course power is a homophobe. would you expect anything less??

and yeah that's the vibe until nothing is left with some unnamed lion to look after the children while everyone else is off doing things that are important. she goes off for a drink and light follows her because of course he does. yadda yadda fire is back for a visit cuz he thinks nothing is like. useless and can't survive without him. their little visit goes down light thinks its so cool to meet a bunch of prideless men yk yk

on their way back they run into quick, who is followed by power and insightful. that unnamed lion with the other children said nothing and light had been gone for a long time and quick is pissed off cuz that's his only son n she just took him off for a jaunt.

he's yelling at her and insightful is about to interject before she's stopped by power, and light interrupts his dad to tell him about fire's group. cuz hey it'll make him leave them alone so like? go off??

nothing gets pissed off at him though because he just sent his murderous father off to kill her brother. rude or not he's still important to her. she and power have their interaction, power whining about how much she "loves" her children, you know. except nothing disowns her. power gets called out and yk yk. its a whole thing and gives nothing some of the agency she lost over the years

then she goes off to find quick, insightful follows her to help, and light follows them because he feels bad.

quick is dead, proud is a dick, light is hidden away in this scene. it goes much the same except light is seeing his father's corpse for himself and insightful is there negotiating their lives alongside nothing. also threatening proud

they yet away with their lives and run as far away as possible just in case he comes after light. nothing may be annoyed but letting your small cousin be murdered isn't cool

so they go off to find fire. its important to nothing cuz ykkk he's her last living sibling and as far as she's concerned, her remaining immediate family. he treats her how he does cuz he loves her, right? right. right?

nothing lives on the stretch how she lived in the prides, taking as little as possible of everything. insightful starts trying to get her to eat more before she like. drops dead. but its hard bc yk internalized self hatred is a vibe. they stay hot on fire's trail, until they come across some bones, a lot of blood, and the eaten remains of tangle. I'm making that plot point more fucked up.

everyone is of course freaked out, and insightful immediately takes it on herself to make sure nothing and light have some skill in fighting cuz Oh My God! they each play to their strengths, and it's like typical training montage. I like to think that with nothing's bad leg opponents would naturally try to take advantage of her balance, and which point she could rear up on her hind legs and then unexpectedly just crash down onto her opponent with her full weight. idk I've never seen a lion fight.

so yeah they eventually find fire and light and insightful are like. not trusting him at all, they suspect him. nothing isn't so hasty with the blame, cannibalism is a lot to accuse your brother of. fire says that if he takes over the nearest pride, he can change her name due to her time as a prideless lion.

as discussed, light objects. he thinks she should be able to choose her own name. pride or not. fire the devout follower of pride law didn't like that

they kill that old man, fire demands the pride, moonstrike (now striker) denies him and he's like. "You cant do that. That's illegal" and striker claims he couldn't have beaten her mate in fair combat after getting his ass kicked the first time. plus he's got some random child that isn't his

he takes that as "kill the kid" and yk. goes after light. nothing's reaction time is normal now though and barrels into him before he can rip lights throat out. he's still gravely wounded though, so much so that insightful is fully occupied trying to keep him alive.

nothing and fire square off, fire is ableist, nothing challenges him. You know. except this time she kills him. she gets him on his back and cuts him open, guts everywhere. no Ghost scene.

Injured and horrified, she lays down. she's like. going to have a breakdown. she just killed her brother, light may be dead, these strangers won't quit staring at her, its not good. episode end.

cut to like next morning and nothing's injuries are being taken care of at the same time as light's. insightful is in there with em talking with striker. noticing she's up, striker asks her name. I'm still not sure what I'd want her to change it to but she does change it. perhaps Enough?

idk idk either way, she doesn't get the pride. she beat fire but it wasn't his to give. however, striker offers them all a place there, including light. boom season 1 end

[hes-writer]

The Other Woman II

Summary: Harry and Y/N are both famous, he cheats while he’s on tour and the media has a field day

Warnings: angst and mentions of smut

Word Count: 2.9k

When Y/N woke up the next morning, she should’ve felt refreshed considering that she got more than eight hours of sleep, but instead, her body folded in on itself from exhaustion. She shook to herself, partly angry because today was supposed to be a good day, this week was supposed to be productive and she was supposed to be happy—but she wasn’t and it was all because of Harry. Her bones cracked when she stretched her arms out in the open, feeling the empty space of Harry’s side of the bed, cold and desolate from their home.

Her phone buzzed on the dresser, vibrating against the wood repeatedly indicating that notification after notification entered through the system and that people were reaching out for her. For what, she didn’t know but Y/N lethargically reached for the rose gold device, hand tingling from the buzzing.

Turning the phone on, she was met with updates from all her social media apps: Twitter, Instagram and even messages from her mom managed to get in on the party. Using her fingerprint, her phone unlocked showcasing her screen saver of Harry and Bell when they were in Japan over the New Years. Her heart palpitated slightly, hands shaking for the reminiscence of last night.

When she opened Twitter, the top trending hashtag was “#Y/NandHarryAreOverParty” and she furrowed her brows. She may have been out of it at the moment, but she would definitely remember breaking up with her goddamn boyfriend. Suspicion arises in her body, creating an inner turmoil as to whether or not she was prepared to see public evidence of his actions. Her thumb hovered over the base, breathing getting heavier from the nervousness of what she was to see.

The first blurry picture in the thread was of a woman leaving a hotel room—presumably Harry’s. How the fans got up there with security, Y/N could not even comprehend, but that’s beside the fact that a literal woman was seen leaving his private room. She swiped, the photo was a little clearer than the last and Y/N could see that the woman on her phone was wearing a t-shirt and leggings. Except it wasn’t just any shirt, it was Harry’s ‘Dream Boat’ shirt adorning her petite frame and she scoffed at his audacity. And she really wished that this was all dream. Was he that careless? This could ruin his reputation, Y/N stopped herself from dwelling on Harry’s–possibly–deteriorating career because even after all he had done; the cheating, lying and betrayal, she still had the nerve to care for him when he so obviously did not return the feeling. The rest was of the woman walking in the hallway, keeping her head down when she saw people and making her way into the elevator. Smart.

lovie

“morning”

Y/N rolled her eyes upon seeing the preview of the message. So now he texts her. She ignored the message, figuring that he’d give up easily anyway, just like how he threw away a year’s worth of trust.

————

She arrived at the studio, not at all ready to act as if nothing was happening with her very public relationship, but it seemed that everyone caught news of Harry’s suspicious activities because as soon as she walked in, the receptionist had given her a small wave and a sympathetic smile even before she had the chance to adjust to the light. Not only that, but her fellow songwriters spoke to her as if she was too fragile and would break any second. Speaking to her softly and quietly as to not disturb her of her morose mood.

“Hey, Y/N. How are you doing?” Linda, a songwriter, asked her. Her hand was situated on Y/N’s shoulder, rubbing gently back and forth, comforting her.

“I’m fine, thanks. And you?”

It was a simple answer but it held a massive truth. Yes, she was hurt and maybe she’s on the verge of bursting into tears in a roomful of her closest colleagues but she was fine. She was fine because she knew that after this, it was going to be okay. She wasn’t sure how she will react when–or if–Harry decides to confront her about this, if they’ll work through it together like they always do or if they’ll give up on a special love that they’d found. She didn’t know if she was capable of forgiving him or if she was ready to let go of him. She was confused, but she was fine.

Once the paper was in front of her and then pen was gripped tightly in her hand, the ink seemed to flow smoothly on the notepad, no hints of pauses or doubts of hesitation of whether or not that certain verse made sense. Y/N poured out her feelings onto paper; the pain she was feeling manifesting from deep within her and ripped out by the calming activity of songwriting. Her current thoughts being objectively put on something that other people can see made the unfortunate event more profound. At least in her head, she can pretend that it was just her hyperactive imagination conjuring up insane thoughts. But when the words stared right back at her, she was haunted by Harry’s promises, things he’d taken into heart and she believed him because she cared and loved him too much.

Her emotions flowed out of her in destructing waves forcing her hand to move slower than her mind implemented ideas, her penmanship going from readable to scrawled scribbles trying to get everything out before she loses it from her short-term memory. But Y/N doesn’t think she ever will. Being cheated on was kind of normal for her, somehow her partners always found someone prettier, more talented and better and it has affected her negatively; that’s not something that you can brush off like it means nothing. That’s why she was hesitant about letting Harry in especially with his reputation but she never really paid attention to that. Regardless, it took some time for them to get together officially because of her hesitance but he was persistent and he waited for until she was ready; she was grateful for that.

What she didn’t appreciate was that he single-handedly decided to forgo their relationship and attend to his needs first without consulting her. Not to say that Y/N would be okay with him fucking somebody else, but she’d surely take matters into her own hands and fly to him. They hadn’t seen each other in a while, it would be good for them. She can’t even do that though, because she didn’t know if he’d be happy to see her and vice versa. New ideas flooded her brain, and before she knew it, her pen was agitatedly scratching the paper hard enough to tear the page she was on. The tip of the ink-filled instrument bleeding through the wispy page when she hardened her grip against it, anger and betrayal coursing through her. She was past the stage of confusion because now she knows his true intentions. He didn’t feel connected to her anymore and this was his way of showing it. Secretive or not, she didn’t know how long this has been going on, if it was just a slip-up, or if he carelessly did so because he didn’t care if she found out because he didn’t care anymore.

At the moment, nobody could stop Y/N from thinking such negative thoughts; she didn’t didn’t know who to believe anymore because the one person she trusted with her entire heart turned their back on her and she was left with no one.

“Y/N, Y/N! Stop!” The voice called out to her, muffled and diluted, the rush of voices echoing in her head muting the harsh shout of concern directed at her.

She realized she was crying, then. The pigment of the ink dispersing through the material when her tears pampered the page. The dot of her i’s alluding with a slight halo. She looked up from her lap seeing pairs of eyes looking at her with sympathy and she didn’t want that. She wanted to be loved but that was once again lost. She didn’t want them worrying about her, she didn’t want any of it. She just wanted Harry.

————

Harry woke up the following day well rested. He could feel the bite of his scratches rubbing against the coarse material of the hotel sheets making him wince. He lifted his heavy head up, seeing that Jessa wasn’t beside him anymore and that his left arm was a bit numb. He sat up on the bed, noticing that it was only his items that were present in his room.

He had a show today but before that, he had to do the contents of his day; like working out and sound checking, possible sight-seeing and then he was off to meet the best fans in the world. He was shirtless, he noticed that in midst of walking to the bathroom to freshen up, the cool air of the air conditioner raising goosebumps on his skin. He must’ve taken it off in the middle of the night.

Harry decided to be productive and make his own bed despite the knowledge that room service will probably do a better job than him. He found himself hastily searching for his Dream Boat shirt which was in Jessa’s hold, unbeknownst to him.

When he strode in the hotel gym, he could see fans sneakily taking photos of him. He had a sixth sense for that kind of stuff, it was more refined when he and Y/N began seeing each other but did not want the paps to know about them. But when he passed by a group, making a point to only wave and smile since he was running a bit behind on his schedule, one statement caught his ears.

“When did you and Y/N break up!?”

He froze, his right leg turning him around immediately facing the crowd of girls. Break up? What?

“Can you repeat what you said?” Harry asked, curious as to why someone would say this. He had a feeling why, but he was too careful to make sure that Y/N nor anyone would find out.

“Did you guys break up? There was another girl photographed leaving your hotel room,” He could hear blood swooping through his eardrums, though it could just be his heart starting to beat loudly.

Murmurs of ‘yeah’ repeated itself by the whole flock. The girl closest to him faced her phone to him, allowing him to see the alleged pictures. And there it was, Jessa, leaving his room dressed in the shirt that he couldn’t find.

“Isn’t that your shirt, Harry?”

He wanted to nod yes, he wanted to speak, he wanted to be able to do anything but he couldn’t because he swore that he just replayed his life before his eyes. Not only was his tryst exposed to Y/N, but it was revealed to the whole world. No doubt would the media have a field day. I mean, how often does a pop superstar make headlines for cheating on his famous girlfriend. He was toast with his publicist, they’re probably trying to find a way to get him out of the grave he dug for himself, cleaning his mess when he should take a stand and admit that he was wrong.

“Oh my god, Y/N’s was papped leaving the studio crying,”

Harry snapped his head toward the sound of the voice, demanding to see the pictures; only being taken minutes ago but with the power of sharing, it was in real time for him.

There was a video, too, of Y/N walking briskly, keeping her head down and with the help of her oversized sunglasses, he felt a clench in his chest because behind those barriers he knew that she had cried. That she found out and she was hurt. To think that he even sent a good morning text must’ve rendered him a jerk to her because instead of apologizing, he acted as if everything was alright, despite all the things happening while he was asleep.

——

During the concert, he was out of focus. He kept missing notes left and right, he wasn’t on the beat and he barely interacted with the people who came to see him. He had somehow forgotten the proper chords for the correct songs and he couldn’t help but let his voice crack and waver during ‘From the Dining Table’; a song about his ex breaking his heart and now it was a song about him breaking someone else’s.

Leaving the stage, he walked slowly to his dressing room, afraid that Jessa would be present again. He left his door wide open hoping that if anything were to happen, Mitch would be able to knock some sense into him. Everything he did was sluggish, Y/N hadn’t reached out to him for the whole day or sent him any cute dog pictures; that’s when he knew it was bad. He wasn’t saying that the whole situation wasn’t bad, but this is definitely the worst thing he’s ever done to her and he might not even get a chance to reprise himself.  His phone misses her call.

——

Y/N sat on her home office chair, laptop open to an airline website. It took her some time to gain the courage to even touch the device again knowing that it was where she had first caught him. She had already booked a ticket to see Harry weeks prior and now, she wasn’t sure if she should cancel it or fly anyways. Confrontations were never her forté, but she felt something burning within her. It wasn’t rage or anger, she knew that. But it was keeping her on her toes, wanting Harry to feel how she feels. Her plan wasn’t to humiliate him or get revenge, no—she wanted him to see her raw emotions. Undiluted and powerful to make him hurt as much as she was.

She was going to do it. Y/N packed her bags and got her trusty neighbor to water their plants while she was away. She opted for two weeks, in case they work it out or in case they didn’t.

——-

A knock sounded on Harry’s door, interrupting his moping and feeling sorry for himself for losing the one thing he treasured. The door handle twisted and he opened the door to reveal Y/N. He immediately took a step aside, urging her to enter the room. She only had one bag with her.

It was an awkward silence. The only thing they’ve to each other was a simple ‘hello’. She eyed the bed, wondering if he had done it with her there too.

“I’m guessing you saw the pictures,”

“You think?”

He gulped at her tone, feeling anxious about what was to happen

“I’m sorry,”

She nodded indicating that she heard him but made no move to accept it.

He cleared his lumpy throat, “You can ask anything,”

“I figured I have the right,” It was curt and short, though she shed no tears.

“Okay, I guess I’ll start. I’m sorry Y/N,” He looked up to find her eyes for added sincerity, only almost piss his pants when she was staring straight at him. Gaze burning across his whole being while Y/N prided herself in being strong.

“I just … don’t know what happened. She came into my dressing room one night and I let her touch me and I shouldn’t have but I did,” A sob ripped through his throat, strangling his words. “Only you should’ve touched me that way. Only you,”

Y/N felt her front caving in from the force of his words. The sincerity behind them was so powerful that even she couldn’t deny how he spoke them wholeheartedly. 

“Why did you do it?”

“It was so stupid of me. I’m such an idiot, I shouldn’t ha–,”

“Why did you do it, Harry?”

“B-because I was lonely,”  He hung his head in shame. He would’ve been furious with Y/N if she used that excuse on him.

“Let me guess, and I wasn’t there?” He nodded regretfully. 

“You should’ve told me. I could’ve been there for you, you didn’t have to do this. You didn’t have to ruin us”

He sobbed harder, the reality hitting him square in the face. Each second was more proof that their relationship was combusting in flames and he’d do anything to salvage what was left of it.

“I know it’s a long shot, but I’m really sorry,” She completely ignored his statement, opting to get what she really came here for.

“I wrote a song about you,”

His eyes widening at her confession. They always dedicated songs to each other but this time, he could tell that it was different.

“I want to sing it in a week’s time,” Harry instantaneously nodded at her request muttering an ‘of course’ about three times. “At your concert,”

“I want your whole family there: Anne and Gemma, I want the boys there,” Although he was confused, there was no way that he would reject Y/N now, especially since he did kind of owe her. “I want that woman there,” —————-

oooo what do you think she’s gonna (what do you wanna see LOL)

kinda had a writer’s block near the end and I’m not really proud of this one

shoot me a message or drop smth in my inbox if you like it! ❤️😄

@tvdplusriverdale @littledreamybeth @miscll-fangirl @mickmoon @trumpettay @ynm1505 @pxrrishly @harryspirate @kissme-hs @darkwolfpeanutskeleton

[magnoliasinbloom]

The Midwife - II

AO3 :: Previously

TW: A little TMI, medically... gory, perhaps. Thought I’d throw this warning in if it’s not your thing. Any doctors and midwifes out there, any technical errors in the story are mine and based on internet research. 

X

“Mistress!” The door to my surgery burst open, and a frantic young girl stood at the threshold, panting for breath. I thought she might be injured, and I approached her quickly.

“Are you bleeding? Where are you hurt?” I patted her down gently, but she waved my hands away.

“No, my mistress… Duncan… she sent me for ye. The bairn is coming!”

“Oh, of course!” I doubled back, grabbing the knapsack I kept packed with all necessary implements for childbirth. We raced out to the courtyard, and I stopped briefly to ask one of the kitchen girls to let Jamie and Mrs. Fitz know I was headed for the procurator fiscal’s house. I saw the lady had sent her young maid in the carriage I had advised she not ride. We clambered in and the driver snapped the reins hard on the horses’ backs.

The ride was rough; the maid—Jeanie, she said her name was—and I were flung about the inside of the carriage. I asked the girl questions while we bore the brunt of the ride. When had her pains started? Had her waters burst? Was she feverish? Was she bleeding? Jeanie was terrified, but answered my inquiries as best she could. The pains were strong and regular, and had begun earlier that morning. Her waters had not burst. Mistress Duncan had been sweating profusely, possibly feverish. She had not seen any blood on the sheets.

When we arrived at the fiscal’s house, I bid Jeanie begin boiling water and prepare fresh clean linens. In the bedroom upstairs, I found Geillis thrashing on the bedstead, drenched in perspiration. The room was dark, a fire roaring despite the noon heat, as was customary for some women. I opened a window to let in some air.

“Claire! Thank God ye’re here!” she rasped. I opened the bag of supplies and pulled out cloths, basins, and tools. The bottles of possets and infusions clinked merrily at the bottom. I laid them neatly on the dresser and immediately washed my hands by pouring vinegar on them.

“Good afternoon, Mistress Duncan. Is your husband here?”

“No, he—at the courthouse. He left when the pains began.”

“Is the pain very bad yet?” I asked, pushing her shift above her belly. I reached between her legs, feeling the pudenda.

“What do ye mean, yet?” she cried out.

I smiled wryly. “Mistress, you have not dilated fully. In fact, the opening through which the child will pass is still quite small. It will hurt twice as much before he or she is ready to come out.”

Jeanie came up with a kettle of hot water. I set about steeping willow bark to help ease her mistress’s pain. It was midday, but her waters hadn’t broken. It could be a long time before she was fully ready.

After awhile, Mistress Duncan seemed to relax. I propped her up on a few pillows, trying to make her comfortable, though I knew comfort was a relative thing to her at the moment. I bid Jeanie wipe her face with a cool cloth dipped in rose water. The lady doubled over every once in a while, wailing through the pain of each contraction, then subsiding.

A few hours passed. She drifted in and out of sleep, bone tired even though the real work was not close yet. I checked her with each chime of the church bell. She was not dilating as fast as I would have liked. I suggested she take a turn about the room; sometimes motion would help speed the birth along.

Jeanie and I held her mistress up by the shoulders. With small, slow steps, we took her around the bed a few times. She clenched up with a contraction a couple of times, sweat sliding down her face. When we tried to lay her back down on the bed, she refused to go on her back. Obeying some natural impulse of her body, she drew herself up on her knees on the edge of the bed.

“I need to push!” she exclaimed.

“Mistress Duncan—”

“Geillis!”

“Alright then, Geillis, you cannot push, your waters have not broken.”

She let out a primal scream then, torn with pain that seemed as though she was being ripped in half. A small gush of blood accompanied her scream, staining her thighs and the floor. Something was wrong.

“Help me get her on the bed.” Together, we lifted her onto the mattress. Jeanie stared with wide eyes at the bloodstains, stark red against the creamy linens. She looked very pale. I shook her shoulder, hoping to startle her back into action. “Jeanie! Go get more water please!”

The maid scurried back to the kitchen, while I pushed Geillis’s knees up and feet together. Once in that position, I spread her legs apart, keeping the soles of her feet touching. I reached once more between her legs, and felt around the birth canal. Still too closed. I washed my hands of the streaks of blood; I massaged her stomach gently with lavender oil, pressing gently at her sides. That was when I felt it.

The babe was lying wrong. Its head was high up in the abdomen, which meant he was trying to be born feet first.

I felt a cold dread grip me. This could be fatal for the mother, if not the child as well. In such cases, I knew, often the mother was left to die and then cut open to retrieve the child. But I had apprenticed at l’Hôpital des Anges, with some of the best midwives and chirurgiens, and there was something I knew I could do. Pray God it would work.

“Geillis?” I smoothed the tousled hair back from her sweaty forehead. “The child is coming feet first. This is probably why this is taking so long, and why you haven’t broken waters yet. There is a technique for this kind of delivery, but it will be painful, and there are no guarantees. But it is the best chance you have to deliver this baby and survive yourself. Are you willing I should try?” She was likely in too much pain and terrified to make this a conscious decision, but my duty was to mother and child. I would do everything in my power to see them both safe through delivery.

Geillis doubled over as if in response, crying out with gritted teeth, “Do what ye must, just get him out!”

I called out for Jeanie. The girl walked back in with frightened eyes, as I instructed her to sit behind her mistress and hold her by the shoulders. Geillis lay supine on the bed, and I extracted a tool from my kit. It looked like a steel knitting needle, long and sharp. I doused it with a flask of diluted alcohol and very carefully inserted it inside Geillis’s body. I probed gently, and suddenly there was a gush of liquid and a bit of blood. I had burst her waters in an effort to move the birth along.

I placed my hands on her enormous belly and began to massage it more forcefully, trying one last time to turn the child around. I could feel the head and some jerky motions from within, but the child would not budge. I wiped my face with my forearm; I would have to take harsher measures.

I brewed mugwort tea; Madame de Ramelle used it to induce labor and make angels. I bid Geillis drink a cup, and then waited. Slowly, contractions began again, stronger than before; in this case, I hoped it would help push the baby further down the birth canal so I could attempt the technique used by Monsieur Forez at l’hôpital.

I asked Jeannie to push on Geillis’s stomach, towards her legs. I spread them wide, and introduced my hand gingerly, feeling around. I touched the tiny tips of toes.

“He’s close, Geillis. Try to push with the pain, and I shall have to make a cut, to try and make way for the child’s body. Be ready!” I took a small paring knife from my bag, cleaned it well, and took a deep breath. With the next contraction, I swiftly made a cut on the perineum, and Geillis screamed. I reached for the feet I had felt, and timed with the ongoing contractions, pulled the child out bit by bit. I called out words of encouragement, praying the baby would not suffocate in the birth canal. Jeanie kept pushing on Geillis’s stomach, but her eyes were riveted on the child emerging from her mistress’s body. Soon, we could determine the sex—the baby was indeed male.

I kept my own gaze on the blood seeping from the cut I had made, making sure it did not turn life-threatening. Geillis sat up and with a cry and pushed hard, bellowing and keening. I felt her insides surge, and I quickly placed my hand around the baby’s shoulders. Sure enough, with the force of his mother’s muscles, the head began to emerge and I gently eased it out.

Geillis collapsed back on the pillows while I hurried to clear the boy’s airway, with my finger hooked in his mouth—he had not emitted a sound and his body was limp. Jeanie appeared by my side, clutching clean linens and dabbing at the baby.

“Is it alright? Will he live?” she asked anxiously.

I said nothing yet; I rubbed at the boy’s chest, hoping to induce a response. Suddenly the baby curled in on itself and let out a high-pitched wail. Breathing a sigh of relief, I handed the baby to Jeanie so I could tend to Geillis.

Grabbing the jar of cat-gut sutures, I threaded a needle and swiped at the area with cotton batting to staunch the blood. It wasn’t gushing, which was a good sign. Mindful of the pain she was experiencing, I stitched her up as quickly as possible. Geillis whimpered, but remained still. Jeanie approached and placed the child in Geillis’s arms.

I watched Geillis holding her boy, her previous suffering seemingly forgotten. Her eyes were suffused with joy and warmth, a glow about her face. She cuddled him close, finger tracing the soft features, still swollen and red from the ordeal of birth. I watched with a pang of longing, as Geillis looked up with immense gratitude.

“Mistress Fraser… Claire… thank ye.”

* * *

Back at Leoch, Jamie watched as I washed off the peculiar fecund ocean scent of birth, and I recounted the difficult delivery in a rush of exhilaration. These were the time when I knew what I was meant to do in life, and proud of following in Maman’s footsteps.

“I’m proud of ye, Sassenach,” he said, kissing my forehead. Suddenly I could feel a familiar griping begin in my lower belly. I rubbed my hand gingerly over my stomach, my thoughts turning to some rest and a cup of tea. I sighed, irritated at the intrusion and something else tugging at my heart. My courses meant I was not with child.

I slipped out of Jamie’s embrace with a wan smile. He sensed my mood immediately and withdrew, noting the position of my hand.

“Dinna fash. We have time, Sassenach. I imagine Mrs. Fitz will speak relentlessly on the subject of bairns, and the other women in the castle also, now that we’re officially wed. ‘Tis what they’re accustomed to, but perhaps for us… it will go another way.”

“I always dreamed of a large family.” I traced my fingers over my belly, thoughts full of Geillis and her own child. “Papa and Maman, and then it was just me. I wanted brothers or sisters. To think that I might not be able to have that, to give you that… There’s talk of Maisri, the wise-woman in the forest.”

“Aye, I’ve heard of her. She’s old, old as the hills, folk say.”

“In the hôpital, we learned how to bring children into the world. From Madame de Ramelle, we learned how to stop them from coming. But aid to conceive them in the first place… Perhaps I should pay this Maisri a visit.”

“By the grace of God, we will have a child. To think of ye in childbirth, Sassenach—I can bear pain myself, but I couldna bear yours. That would take more strength than I have.” With another tender kiss, I turned to take care of my courses.

Jamie wrote a letter to Jenny while I searched for the small box where I kept absorbent cloths. When I had moved from the surgery to the bedchamber, I thought I’d brought all my personal possessions with me; but the box was nowhere to be found. Perhaps Mrs. Fitz or one of the kitchen girls had moved it while cleaning.

In a last ditch attempt, I peeked under the bed. I glimpsed a bundle tucked behind the canopy frame. On my knees, I stretched my arm as far as it would go and batted around until my fingers brushed against the object. It was not a box.

“Did ye find it?” Jamie asked distractedly.

I pulled a bundle of branches from under the bed. I turned it over; strange black and red shapes dangled from the tips of the boughs, and the bundle was tied together with a strip of drab brown cloth. The edges of this makeshift ribbon were stiff with rusty red, and as I puzzled over it, the realization came to me. I dropped the bundle with a cry of shock.

The cloth was the edge of my old torn cloak. The stain on it was dried blood.

[gwydionae]

(Keep My) Back to You

A/N: My second Naruto fic in a month, and it’s even a chapter fic (if I don’t give up and decide it’s fine as a one shot, anyway). 19-year-old me would be proud. 25-year-old me would be appalled. Current me is choosing to revel in the past for a bit. Never enough Naruto and Sasuke friendship fics in the world anyway.

Posted on fanfiction.net >here<.

Teaser: Naruto just wants a friend. Sasuke will never allow himself to have one. But heavy burdens carried by small backs feel lighter when the load is shared with others.

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto. Eventual canon divergence. Rated T for eventual mild language and violence.

Chapter 1: Classmates

"Naruto! You can't afford to not pay attention with as pitiful as your grades are! Now sit up!"

The boy in question couldn't help fidgeting in his seat as their teacher droned on about basic grammar. Learning parts of speech seemed pointless on the best of days - a ninja should care more about a kunai being sharp than whether it's a noun or a verb - so it was no surprise that he couldn't be bothered to listen on a day as important as this. To anyone else, such a cool and cloudy day would seem as dull and ordinary as any other, but this day was special because it had the potential to change everything he'd known for seven lonely years.

Today he was going to do it. Today he was determined to at long last make a friend. And not just any friend. He was stubborn in his selection: Sasuke Uchiha, star of the class who could do no wrong in neither the teachers' nor students' eyes. Sasuke, who could throw shuriken even better than those instructing him and passed all written tests with ease.

Sasuke, who very recently had been found the sole survivor of the Uchiha after the massacre of his entire clan in a single night.

Naruto absently doodled on his paper, his glances up directed less at their teacher and more at the back of the boy in front of him and the symbol of the clan of one displayed there. He may not have understood what it was like to have people he cared about cruelly ripped away, but he more than understood the result. The constant loneliness that came with an empty house left an uncomfortable, hollow feeling in his small chest, a feeling that only grew in strength whenever he saw parents picking up their kids from school or his classmates' lovingly prepared lunches. He found ways to earn attention during the day, usually in the form of scolding or jeering, but it was never enough to ignore the emptiness as he lay curled up in bed at night.

A grin slid across his face. All that was going to change today, he was sure of it. If he had even one person, anyone that he could talk with, eat with, train with, than that uncomfortable feeling would finally go away. He just had to keep an eye out for an opening.

"Get out of the way, Naruto! I'm trying to talk to Sasuke-kun!"

Openings, however, Naruto found to be both plentiful and nonexistent.

While he had of course always known the boy by reputation, now that he was properly trying to start up a conversation with Sasuke, it was obvious that none of his brilliant plans were likely to work. Naruto was eager and optimistic, desperately wanting to simply run up and chatter away. But this seemed to be the very last thing that Sasuke wanted as anytime one of their classmates shoved past Naruto to speak with him, he'd either fix them with an annoyed glare or ignore them outright. Whether the person was offering their sympathies or paying him a compliment didn't seem to matter; the sullen boy did everything he could to distance himself despite the constant crowd.

Having a desire to be alone was something that Naruto simply couldn't make heads or tails of. Being alone was painful. He had thought that, like himself, Sasuke would want the attention he was to never again receive at home. And he could offer not just attention but understanding, understanding of a life without parents or homemade lunches. The two of them would never have to hear the other complain about how unfair their dad was for forcing them to eat vegetables or boast about how their mom had promised to buy them their own katana for their birthday. They could simply enjoy each other's company without worry of any sudden pangs of jealousy or looks of pity.

But after failing all day to try and catch Sasuke in a moment where he was both alone and not shooting death glares at people, Naruto's enthusiasm began to wane. He wouldn't give up hope, of course - just because he hadn't found an opening today didn't mean there wouldn't be one tomorrow - but he'd been so confident that this would be the first night he'd fall asleep knowing that someone out there was looking forward to seeing him when he woke up.

"Ew, don't you have anything else to wear? That shirt is so dirty! You smell! Go sit somewhere else!"

He had one last chance of making that dream become reality. When classes were finally over, Sasuke would head back toward the Uchiha Compound which was tucked away in its own corner of the village, opposite from the homes of his fellow classmates. It'd be the perfect opportunity to face him one-on-one. Maybe he could even coax him into going to Ichiraku's for dinner; he didn't really have enough money to be paying for someone else's meal on top of his own, but what better way to pique a lonely orphan's interest than with free food?

With a plan set, Naruto impatiently tapped his foot as his stare practically bore holes into the clock on the classroom wall, willing it to hurry up. Twenty minutes left. Ten minutes left. Seven, five, two, one minute left...

The teacher finally announced the end of class, and Naruto leapt to his feet with a grin. This was it. He had to keep a close eye on Sasuke who had somehow already attracted a small crowd of admirers wishing him a good night. The farewells went ignored same as all the comments directed at the scowling boy that day as Sasuke steadily made his way toward the exit, Naruto keeping his eyes glued to his retreating back. He was just about to follow him out the door when a stern voice called out to him. The teacher wanted him to stay behind.

"I've taught four-year-olds less pathetic than you."

Naruto protested loudly as he got an earful detailing his latest failing test scores and lack of ability to stay focused in class. Only too late did he realize that his protesting was doing more to stall him further than help him escape, and by the time his teacher was done with him, it'd been almost ten minutes, and Sasuke was no where in sight.

Racing off in the general direction of the Uchiha Compound, Naruto kept his eyes peeled for any signs of a lone kid walking home with a grumpy face and hands shoved in pockets. Seeing no trace of him along the most direct path, with a frustrated huff, he began combing nearby streets in case his target had taken a detour.

"What's that monster planning now? Running around like a maniac - up to no good as usual, I'd bet!"

The sun was already setting by the time Naruto finally decided to give up for the night. Sasuke was surely home by now, and not only did he not know exactly which house was Sasuke's, but he wasn't sure he was quite brave enough to try and talk to the other boy in the midst of a newly made ghost town. He'd have to keep a closer eye out tomorrow for an opening. With a sigh, he began his defeated trudge back to his empty apartment.

It was by pure chance that he saw him. Passing by a still lake at the bottom of a hill off the side of the road, Naruto glanced down, eyes trailing to the end of a short dock where a small, hunched figure sat with his feet dangling over the edge.

The sight of Sasuke caused his excitement to roar back to life, and he struggled to suppress the urge to run down the hill with a cheery greeting. If he had learned anything that day - much to his teacher's chagrin - it was that Sasuke didn't respond well to unwanted chatter, and it was too late to implement his plan of offering to buy dinner. Naruto would have to start slow. He hated holding his tongue; it went against his very nature. But this moment was too big, too important to ruin by repeating everyone else's mistakes.

His mind made up, Naruto purposefully walked down the hill and across the dock, plopping himself on the wooden planks directly behind Sasuke, leaning his back ever so slightly against the other boy's.

He kept his mouth tightly clenched as he felt Sasuke's back stiffen against his own, but if there was a glare directed at him, Naruto didn't see it, and not a single word laced with hostility could be heard. Determined, he sat there in silence, watching clouds and birds fly by as the sun sank lower behind him. It was nice, in a way, he supposed. A bit too quiet for his liking, but he couldn't remember being so close to someone before without them making rude comments or pushing him away. And as the tension left Sasuke's back, Naruto's face lit up with a bright smile. It was a start.

The two boys sat on the dock until the sun had almost completely vanished below the horizon. By this point, Naruto couldn't keep his fidgeting in check any longer. Springing to his feet, he stretched loudly before turning his smile down to his still seated companion who was glancing up at him over his shoulder. Naruto genially gave Sasuke a light pat on the back.

"See you tomorrow, Sasuke!"

Not waiting for a response, he turned to leave with an awkward wave.

"...yeah."

It was amazing how one, small word could cause his chest to lighten. Feeling more alive than he could ever remember feeling before, Naruto ran home at top speed, easily ignoring the offended looks cast his way as he laughed and grinned through the darkened streets. He felt warm as he ate his dinner of cup ramen alone, and the smile was still firmly on his face when he at last snuggled into bed that night.

Maybe, just maybe his plan had worked. Maybe someone would be happy to see him tomorrow. Maybe he had just made his first friend. ____________________________________

"Morning, Sasuke!"

Feeling a familiarly awkward pat on his back, Sasuke glanced over his shoulder to see big, blue eyes and a wide grin leaning over the desk behind him. Normally he'd choose to acknowledge such a greeting with a glare, but he found the annoyance not quite reaching his eyes, and he offered up a stiff nod instead before quickly turning back around.

Naruto had never been someone he'd paid a lot of attention to. He knew of him by reputation, of course. Who didn't? Even the elite ANBU had been witnessed dragging him off to the Hokage's office on occasion. But proving himself to his father had always been Sasuke's primary goal, and therefore he had never had much time or patience to direct toward the kid with the lowest grades in the class. Besides, everyone else did that for him.

"Naruto! Stop bothering him! He doesn't want someone like you touching him, do you, Sasuke-kun?"

And yet somehow, for maybe fifteen whole minutes, Sasuke had managed to feel a sense of calm out on that dock, Naruto's back against his, a silent, firm reminder of the other's presence.

Ever since the night that had so drastically changed his life, every moment, every breath felt like a battle, whether he was awake or fighting off nightmares. He would see splashes of red out of the corner of his eyes, feel his heart pound at shadows, hear his brother's voice on the wind. Combating the fear and despair with determination and anger would work for a time, but as he reached the limit of his endurance, the weight of his guilt and responsibility would crush down on him with far greater force. The war against his threatening tears was nearly always lost when he was alone in his bed.

Sasuke didn't like going home anymore. Much as the constant nagging of his peers got on his nerves, being around them was generally preferable to the deathly stillness the once lively Uchiha Compound now offered. He often stayed out as late as possible, usually to continue his training, dreading the moment he'd once again have to set foot in a large, empty house. The lake had become neutral ground. There was no comfort in sitting there, not really, but the breeze and rippling water had a tendency to lull him into a bit of a trance, hollowing him out just enough to make it home and scrape together a quick meal before a flood of emotions could overwhelm him.

Until yesterday, that is. Yesterday had been different. It was the first time in the week or so since his brother's betrayal that anyone had simply sat with him quietly, simply shared in his existence. The silence that brought no comfort while alone had acted as a soothing balm in another's presence. Why Naruto of all people would cause such a reaction he didn't know. Perhaps it didn't matter who it was. Perhaps anyone could have sat down behind him and stirred the same emotions. Whether that was true or not, Sasuke couldn't deny his longing to return to that feeling of peace.

Abruptly shaking his head, he pushed those thoughts aside and focused on the lesson. He couldn't be thinking that way. He had to focus on more important things.

"Wow, Sasuke! You didn't get a single question wrong! Can copy off of you next time? I'm kidding! I'm kidding!"

Dropping the subject completely, however, turned out to be easier said than done. It wasn't unusual that he found himself surrounded by admirers, but he couldn't remember if Naruto had ever been counted among them. He guessed not as everyone else was doing their best to keep the increasingly frustrated looking boy away from their precious Sasuke Uchiha, not allowing him to get too close.

A part of him was relieved at his entourage's behavior. Last night had awakened Sasuke's awareness of the other boy, and now Naruto could only be labeled a distraction. If he wasn't careful, that warm, firm back could tempt him with a false sense of peace, maybe even trust and belonging. But that couldn't happen. He wouldn't allow it to happen.

And yet another part of him cried out for even just fifteen more minutes of that foreign tranquility last night on the dock had given him. He greedily wanted more of the freely offered gift. His heart was ready to betray his head for the smallest drop of water, the quickest gulp of air, the tiniest glimpse of the sun.

But his head had to win. He had to stay focused, for his sake and Naruto's. A drop of water wasn't worth a puddle of blood.

"That was amazing, Sasuke-kun! Teach me how to do that? Please?"

Everything was so much easier when people wanted to take from Sasuke Uchiha, the heir and idol, rather than give.

Sasuke hurried out of the classroom as soon as they were dismissed, foregoing his usual, lightly traveled route home for one packed with crowds. Glancing back cautiously, a head of bright blonde hair was trying desperately to keep up. He couldn't allow it. He forged ahead, quickening his pace, determined to lose his tail.

Classmates, parents, strangers on the street, all tried to stop him as he passed. He shook off outstretched hands and ignored calls of his name, wondering if such things were giving away his position. He needed to hide. A nearby weapons shop caught his eye, and he quickly ducked inside.

With every ounce of the stealth training that had been drilled into him since he first learned to walk, Sasuke hid amongst a rack of belts and holsters and peered out through the front window. Not a minute had passed when confused blue eyes came into view, straining in all directions to track down where his prey had gone. Sasuke held his breath, but he didn't have to wait long before the zealous boy darted off down the street, leaving the shop behind. A sigh of relief escaped from the nearly cornered target.

Needing to put some distance between them, Sasuke pretended to browse the small shop. The owner's scowl turned into what he must have thought a welcoming smile upon seeing the red and white fan on the young boy's back.

"Uchiha, right? You know, my daughter is around your age. She's a real cutie! Let me introduce you!"

Having no desire to meet a fussy four-year-old, Sasuke blurted out some story about being in a hurry. After a bit more clipped but polite refusing to stay, he ran out the door, heading for the nearest side street. Whether his pursuer saw him or not, he needed to get away from the suffocating crowds.

It took him longer than he would have liked to find the lake. With a sigh, Sasuke walked to the end of the dock, sitting with his feet dangling over the edge as he always did. To the casual observer, the day would have seemed barely different from the last several. But that one difference - that one difference with bright, blonde hair and big, blue eyes - had wedged itself into a corner of Sasuke's brain, forcing him to be aware of it at all times. And he didn't like it.

In a perverse way, he wished he'd seen splashes of red rather than tufts of blonde, heard his brother's voice over that of another little boy's. Death and grief were his past, present, and future, inescapable truths he could never outrun. But Naruto had the choice to remain separate. He didn't have to get in the way, push himself in front of Sasuke, inadvertently creating a seductively short path toward his revenge. No one needed to put themselves there. Sasuke wouldn't let anyone put themselves there.

His brooding thoughts were interrupted by sandaled feet on wooden planks and a small back resting against his own.

Sasuke didn't turn around. If he didn't see who sat behind him, he could imagine it to be anyone, a stranger just passing by and offering some quiet comfort. He could pretend that he was accompanied by an immortal, invisible companion, that he wasn't doomed to be viciously and utterly alone. The silence would soothe him, and he never had to confront its identity.

"It's pretty nice here. Do you come here a lot?"

His back stiffened and shoulders tensed. He ignored the question, heart and mind both imploring the intruder not to break the stillness again. Naruto seemed to realize his mistake as it was another few minutes before he tried a second time.

"What's your favorite food? I love ramen! It tastes so good, and it's nice and hot when it gets all cold out."

Sasuke wasn't even sure he'd ever tried ramen.

"There's a lot of hot food you could eat when it's cold out, idiot."

The words had left his mouth before his brain had a chance to stop them. He'd meant to continue ignoring the other boy, but something about this conversation - if you could call it that - felt off, something that loosened his tongue to a worrying degree.

"I know that, jerk! Ramen's just the best of all of them!"

But then it struck Sasuke just what was so different from every other plea for his attention. There had been no mention of his grades, his skill, his clan; no expectations about how he was supposed to react; no attempts to gain anything aside from the knowledge of what kind of food he preferred. Naruto didn't seem to want anything from the last Uchiha in Konoha, the so-called genius of their class. Only from Sasuke, a seven-year-old orphan.

The two continued to sit in silence as the realization churned Sasuke's stomach. It should have been a pleasant change of pace, being faced with someone who seemed to care little about his status. But he would never be just a boy again. He couldn't. He had to be Sasuke Uchiha, unmatched shinobi, killer of Itachi, patriarch of a nearly extinct clan.

He couldn't want what he feared Naruto would offer.

"Do you wanna go get some? Ramen, I mean. Ichiraku's has the best in the whole village, and it's not too far from here. I can pay for both of us. Whaddya think?"

Glancing over his shoulder, Sasuke found himself looking into a slightly nervous yet excited face. His heart clenched with dread, and he paused briefly before responding.

"Why?"

Safely anchored on this neutral dock, he could allow himself to steal a few minutes of serenity from Naruto. But nothing more. Anything more would be too much. Too dangerous. Too painful. His prayer that it wasn't already was an exercise in futility.

"Well, I - I've always heard that food tastes even better if you eat it with - with a friend."

Sasuke shot to his feet, hoping the trembling in his limbs went unnoticed.

"We're not friends! Now stop following me around, and leave me alone, you loser!"

He hadn't so much as glanced at Naruto before sprinting the entire way to his empty house, panting heavily as he wrenched the front door open, stumbled inside, and slammed it shut behind him. Mechanically removing his sandals and dropping his bag, he shuffled through the house until he was again kneeling in the room where his brother had cut their parents' lives short. He took a shuddering breath.

"I'm sorry. I'll avenge you. I promise I will! But I won't - I can't be like - like him. I can't gain power the way he did! I can't lose anyone else. I'm - I'm sorry I'm so weak. I'll get stronger another way. I promise. I promise! Please. I'm sorry. I'm - I'm sorry..."

It was dark when Sasuke fell into a fitful sleep on the floor, eyes red and puffy. His heart ached, crying out for the companionship he'd been offered as the vast emptiness of the compound constricted around his tiny body. But it didn't matter who the offer came from; not one of the many seeking to take, or Naruto who had only given. He would never accept.

It was impossible to be tempted to kill his best friend for power if there was no one he called friend in the first place. ____________________________________ 

A/N: I can’t for the life of me write a Naruto fic that fits with canon. Thanks, Itachi.

As always, critics and grammar police are appreciated!

Chapter 2 on tumblr >here<.

[theboardwalkbody]

Title: The Shot 

Fandom: Stranger Things Characters: Alexei, OFC, Murray Pairing: Alexei/OC Rating: T Warnings: Blood Chapter: 1/??? Might do more if there’s an interest. 

Alternative take on the scene at the fair. AU - Alexei doesn’t die. OC.  

They say the first gunshot of the Revolution was the proverbial loudest gunshot. ‘The shot heard ‘round the world’ as they say in the history books. Well, American history books anyway. The truth is it wasn’t. The loudest gunshot is actually the one you are affected by and needless to say I was in no way involved in the American Revolution. For me the loudest gunshot was one I didn’t even hear. It happened right next to me but between the guns silencer and the gunman skillfully timing it with the boom of the overhead Fourth of July fireworks there really was nothing to be heard. And yet, it was deafening.

I’ll be honest the 24 hours prior to this shot were shocking, and that is a grotesque understatement. Otherworldly portals, secret underground labs, an almost superhumanly crazy gunman whose sole purpose in life seemed to be to keep said underground lab and otherworldly portals kept secret; which of course meant that the Four Nosy Americans and our Dearly Abducted Russian Scientist who has willingly spilled all of the metaphorical beans needed to be, well, eliminated.

You would think that any one of those hugely life changing discoveries would be the thing that struck to the core; the thing that would cause so much dread and panic. But it was none of those things. For me the most shocking event was that one second I was walking alongside that Dearly Abducted Russian - or, as he stated his actual name – Alexei, smiling with him as we walked back from a balloon-dart game where he had won a giant stuffed Woody Woodpecker (impressing me and about 2 dozen children) and the next… deafening noise.

It was as if he appeared from thin air – the gunman suddenly passing right in front of us without either of us noticing his approach, the raise of his arm to press the barrel of his gun against Alexei’s body, shielding it from view between their bodies and the giant stuffed cartoon woodpecker, the whisper of something I couldn’t understand as he passed by to disappear as quickly as he had appeared. It was so quick and the act so fluid that I wasn’t entirely sure it even happened except for the evidence left behind in his wake.

There was blood.

I’ve always heard that in the most profound moments everything is quiet. Nothing but absolute overwhelming silence. To me it was the loudest moment I’ve ever experienced. The sound of my heart pounding mixed with the sounds of fireworks, children yelling, people talking, babies crying, machines whirring, music from about 30 different sources, everything melding together to create the most offensive and chaotic sound.

I wanted to scream from the pressure of it all welling up in my head. I shut down emotionally instead.

Murry, also known as the Only Apparent Human Being Who Can Translate Russian to English, had witnessed the assault but saw about as much as I did despite the different vantage point. He rushed over as I leaned into Alexei’s body and wrapped an arm around his shoulders to support him as he began stumbling.  Murry and I guided him to a secluded area between two pop-up buildings for games. In the little makeshift alley it was darker and the sounds of the roaring fair faded to more of a jumbled background noise.

“Alexei! Can you hear me?” Murray was practically yelling as we gently lowered the shocked and bleeding man to the ground. Being spoken in English Alexei responded only to the sound of his name being said, but he didn’t have much strength or awareness to stay focused and his head fell back against the wall behind him as his eyes closed.

“Keep him awake,” I said quietly to Murray as I yanked the jacket off myself. “Give me your shirt.”

My voice was quiet and emotionless. Almost robotic.

Murray nodded, ripped his own shirt off, then shifted focus back to Alexei and tried to keep him from losing consciousness by snapping his fingers and speaking in a loud, panicked tone; switching back and forth between English and Russian, not that it mattered at all what he was saying or which language he was saying it in. Neither I nor Alexei could really hear him. Alexei was between life and death – a fact I was well too aware of – and I was living in a silent world having tuned everything to focus.

I tied my jacket to Murray’s shirt to make them longer and then reached around Alexei and tied the clothes around him just above the wound. As I reached around I felt for an exit wound but felt nothing. I tied the makeshift tourniquet as tight as I could not tying it off until it was so tight Alexei sucked in a breath. My heart almost leap out of my chest. He felt the pressure. That was a good sign.

“Murray I need your shirt,” I said.

“What? I already –“, he started but I cut him off.

“The undershirt. Now.” I still didn’t raise my voice even though I was angry with him for not doing what I said the first time and wasting precious seconds.

It took only a moment but to me it felt like an hour; Murray handed me the undershirt.

“Tell him I’m sorry but it’s going to hurt,” I told Murray.

He nodded and translated my words to Russian. Alexei’s only response was a wince in response to the pain he was already feeling, though I highly doubted he felt it with its true intensity. His body was in shock, he needed immediate medical attention and I needed to try and stop the bleeding as much as possible. I took Murrays shirt and twisted it slightly to form a ball roughly the size of the bullet wound. I ripped open Alexei’s blood stained shirt and as gently and as quickly as I could I stuffed some of the shirt into the wound to try and block it and instead of backing off I pushed against it with all the strength I had, shifting my position and getting better leverage by leaning slightly forward on my knees and almost falling on to him.

The action caused him to yelp in pain. For a moment his eyes focused on mine before rolling back into his head and fluttering closed. My chest ached. He was in pain, and even though it was needed I hated that I caused it. “Alexei!” I shouted, evidently too loudly by the way Murray jumped at the sound. “You gotta stay with me, okay,” I added more softly when he took a deep, rough breath in and looked at me again but with unfocused eyes.

“Murray – get an ambulance. There’s a medic tent by the main entrance,” I ordered. “But what are we going to tell –“ “Murray! I am a goddamn nursing student, not a fucking trauma surgeon! Cover story later. You get me an ambulance or he’ll die soon. I can’t let that happen which means you need to get me a fucking ambulance!” I was yelling. I had kept my cool for too long without letting myself experience any sort of emotion and it was all bursting out. Tears were beginning to leak from my eyes. Nursing school and clinicals teach you to keep your head in a crisis. But I had done all I could do which meant that now I no longer had control of the situation. No control means no emotional blockade.

Murray stumbled to his feet and then ran off to find a medic and an ambulance.

I was using both hands to keep pressure on the wound and aiding the pressure of the tourniquet. I took a deep breath to try and calm myself and then placed my forehead against Alexei’s for a moment to try and reassure him. I knew that he couldn’t understand me, but I spoke to him anyway.

“It’s going to be okay. I’m going to make sure of it. You just have to stay with me, okay? I can’t do all the work here by myself. I need you to help too. Okay? I need you.”

I felt a lump rise in my throat. ‘I need you.’ I didn’t realize I even felt that way until the words had left my lips. I wanted to yell at myself. What was this? Some Disney film where the heroine falls for the hero after knowing them for only a few days all the while they barely exchanged any words? All our conversations were translated by a recluse with a severe prejudice against Russians, with the exception of the one he was now trying to save, and our meeting did begin with a kidnapping. It just wasn’t mine it was his. Yeah, this could definitely make a Disney movie.

My panicked thoughts were interrupted by Murray reappearing with a few medics in tow.

“I warned Jim and Joyce,” he said as the medics rushed over and flanked me. I nodded, never taking my focus away from Alexei.

“Miss, you can let go, we will take him from here.” I heard the lead medic say to me, but my body wouldn’t react. “Miss, please, you need to get off him so we can transport him.”

Murray walked up behind me and placed a hand on my shoulder. “Let them work, you’ve done your part,” he assured.

I hesitantly backed off and stood up. Murray kept a hand on my shoulder as I stared at my blood-covered hands. I wiped them on my jeans but the stains were already setting in.

The medics placed him on a stretcher and began to wheel him to an ambulance that had pulled up by a third medic arriving on the scene.

I broke away from Murray’s reassuring hold. “I’m going with him,” I said.

“But what about Joyce and Jim?” Murray called after me jogging slightly to catch up with me and the medics.

“Stay with them, tell them what happened, make sure they’re safe. Go with them,” I yelled back. After my instructions I didn’t look back, but I knew he listened because he didn’t follow or call out again. I climbed in the back of the ambulance and sat watching the two medics work on stabilizing Alexei with fluids and oxygen. I knew it wouldn’t do much without stopping the bleeding and getting a blood transfusion but I hoped it would be just enough to get him to the hospital where those measures could be implemented. I reached out for Alexei’s hand. I’m sure the medics assumed it was because I wanted to comfort him, which wasn’t wrong, but the truth was I was trying to comfort myself, too, and the only way I knew to do that was by placing my middle and index finger over the radial pulse point and just feeling his pulse against my fingertips. A pulse meant life; meant he was still with me. I closed my eyes and focused on the ragged, unsteady beating of Alexei’s pulse and tried to shut out the blaring noise of the sirens and the medics talking and working beside me hoping we would get to the hospital soon.

[quirkwizard]

Duds and Duds: B-Brigade

So since I don’t have much to say about most of Class 1-B, I was originally not going talk about them. But since you all wanted it, and I had some words on them, I am going with some of the more prominent students. But since I have so little to say, I’m going to be doing them all at once.

Monoma

Practicality: 3/5

It’s keeps his hands free and does nothing else for him. But then again, it doesn’t really need to do anything else for him do to how difficult his Quirk is to work around. There are the stopwatches to help him keep track of the Quirks he as copied, which is something I predicted before the chapter confirming it, but that seems like fairly small potatoes in the grand scheme.

Aesthetic: 5/5

All the colors go well together and and the overall design is very solid. It gets across the whole theme of a thief, yet it doesn’t sacrifice any practicality in doing so. Not much else to say, it’s genuinely a good costume. Though the second belt is a little odd.

Suggestions:

There isn’t really anything to add. His Quirk is very difficult to work around and I think this is the best possible outcome given what Monoma has to work with. The only thing I could add would be some weaponry that could be used in the event that he doesn’t have anyone to copy or could be used to close the distance between him and someone else, like a whip or a small amount of capture bandage. Maybe he could hide it up his selves for a quick surprise. 

Kendo

Practicality: 2/5

It does leave her hands completely free, so that’s a bonus. Though I do like the subtle implementation of the corset, as it is likely put in place to protect Kendo’s back when using her giant hands. The dress confuses me though. Not so much at the fact she is wearing a dress, as it is light and allows a lot of freedom in movement, I’m confused at the kind of dress she is wearing Kendo’s main feature are her giant hands, so why have a dress that leave her legs open? Unless it’s that way so she could take full advantage of her legs as well as her arms. That or she’s taking inspiration from a hero she likes.

Aesthetic: 4/5

While the dress may seem a little silly, I still think it works well from a visual standpoint. The colors look fine, though the introduction of white in the boots is an odd choice, and the dominant choice of blue goes well with Kendo’s natural hair and eye colors. That and the bandana-like domino mask is a nice touch. 

Suggestions:

Given how simple her Quirk, it is difficult to come up with any real suggestions. Some kind of gloves to go over her hands? Given that her entire Quirk focuses around her hand, and she would need to use them frequently in dangerous situations, it would make sense. The issue is that I don’t know if there is anything within the series that wouldn’t get ripped apart and still protect her. Maybe made out of the same material Mt. Lady’s costume is made from, but that doesn’t seem entirely protective. Other then that, possibly a giant sword on her back to go with her giant hands?

Tetsutetsu

Practicality: 0/5

As far as I can tell, the costume does nothing for him. Nothing to make up for his lack of mobility, nothing to take advantage of the fact he is metal, not even pouches for iron rich foods. His entire costume is literally just a joke, in that he is a clone Kirishima.

Aesthetic: 2/5

It is not hideous or painful to look at, but there is nothing else about it is that is remarkable in any way outside of the bits of steel on his face accenting his built in eyeliner. No kind of theme of anything about his personality coming through, just some grey and more grey. He could have gone with some kind industrial or construction theme for his costume. He could even dress up like Popeye. I mean it works, he likes to eat spinach and punch people.

Suggestions:

Since he can hold his own against high temperatures, it would be interesting to see something like that introduced into his costume. Similar to the heating and cooling device Todoroki has on his body. Like he could have his harness heat his metal body when he is fighting to improve the damage he does when he hits people. I would also suggest electricity, as it would have the same effect, but I am unsure if Tetsu’s metal body would actually be able to handle that like he does heat. He should also have some pouches filled with iron rich foods like spinach, pumpkin seeds, and various nuts.

[ghostofviperwrites]

Denial

Pairing:  Evil/FC

Category:  Smut

Warnings:  Dungeon Play.  Whipping, punishment, pissed off Evil.  read with caution

Word Count: 1800

“But..but baby,” You whined, the words coming out breathy as you hung on the edge, kept right on the precipice by Evil’s talented fingers.  You tried to arch against him, thighs clenching around his wrist as you sought what he denied.

“I know you didn’t think you were going to cum after the shit you pulled?” Evil taunted curving his fingers inside you and making you whimper.  “You’ll be lucky if you come ever again.” 

“C’mon Evil, please.” You begged, eyes closing in pleasure as he twisted his thick fingers inside your pussy.  “You know I was just playing.” 

“Well now I’m playing.” Evil said his thumb rubbing slow tantalizing circles over your clit.   “Not very fun is it?”  

You weren’t sure if it was a cry of relief or disappointment that escaped when he pulled his fingers free, bringing them to your lips and watching with hungry eyes as you sucked your juices off his hand.   You felt overheated, your face flushed with desire as you tried to calm yourself while Evil stepped back and dropped his slacks to the ground.

“Come suck me.”  He commanded pointing at the floor in front of him.  Sliding off the table he  had held you on you dropped down to your knees and crawled the short distance to Evil, reaching quickly for his hard member, hoping that maybe if you pleased him he would change his mind about denying you your orgasm.  Not very likely but a girl could hope.  Darting your tongue out you licked his tip, locking your eyes on his as you brought his tip past your lips playing with it with your tongue before sucking hard on it and bobbing further down onto him.   Keeping your tongue firm along the underside of his cock you slid him deep into your throat and swallowed before pulling him back out again and flicking your tongue over the head.

“You really think teasing is your best course of action right now?”  Evil snapped narrowing his eyes at you when you pouted.

“I wasn’t teasing.”  You told him sullenly.

“I know exactly what you’re doing.  Stop it or I’m going to take you into the dungeon.”  Evil warned as you quickly shook your head.  The last place you wanted to go was the dungeon.   Not for punishment at least.   Looking up at him again your shoulders slumped as you knew you were fighting a losing battle.  He had already determined he was taking you there.  He was going to find fault in everything you did so he could take his pent up aggression on you.  

Putting him back in your mouth you sucked him hard as you bobbed over his cock keeping a steady rhythm as Evil’s hands guided you with your hair until he pulled you off until only the tip was resting in your tongue as it spilled his load.   Once he pulled free Evil silently pointed towards the basement stairs and walked away. 

Heaving a heavy sigh you rose to your feet and walked towards the dreaded door.  Sure the dungeon was fun sometimes, but this was not going to be one of those times.  Evil was already pissed at you for touching yourself in the locker room when you were already in trouble. Couple that with him being in one of his moods and you could already feel the aches coming your way. 

You cringed when you heard his angry exhale behind you.

“Why are you not down those stairs yet?” He growled.  Your excuses were cut off immediately by his hand yanking you back to his chest by the hair tears springing to your eyes as sharp pain radiated through your scalp. “Get down there.  On the horse.” 

He pushed you away from him and you hurried down the stairs with dread.  The horse.   You hated the horse.  Usually he would ease you into it.  Starting on one of the easier pieces of furniture.  He rarely had you immediately on anything.  Evil liked the theatre of having you kneeling nude at the bottom of the stairs and crawling to him at his throne.   As you climbed onto the horse your mind raced as you tried to think of anything further you may have done to raise his ire. 

“On your back,” Evil commanded as he walked in and saw you positioned on your stomach.   Reluctantly you pushed up and got into the much more uncomfortable position with your legs bent under you as you laid on your back across the pad.   You made sure to keep your face as impassive as possible given the mood Evil was in.   You weren’t even strapped down yet and your muscles were already screaming in protest.  Normally by the time he got you in this position you had been stretched and used thoroughly making your muscles nice and warmed up for such an uncomfortable position.   You fought to control your pain as Evil cinched the straps almost impossibly tight the leather biting into your skin before pulling your arms above your head and securing them.   A blindfold was secured around your head and a phallic gag shoved between your lips. 

You waited anxiously trying to hear his movements around the room, desperately trying to determine his next move when his fingers appeared on your breasts pinching your nipples and flicking them hard with his thick fingers.  You tensed knowing what he was preparing you for, braced for the pain as you felt cool metal on your nipple.  You squirmed, tears dampening the blindfold as your cries of pain were muffled as he tightened the ring of fire nipple press around one nipple than the other, trying to breathe deeply through your nose to prevent yourself from passing out as your heart raced.  Evil was going hard from the get go and you suddenly found yourself yearning for a safe word.   You had never before wanted one.  Had been able to handle everything Evil had given you so far.  But you had bad feeling about tonight.  Something you had done had pushed him too far and you were scrambling to figure out what he knew.    

His fingers moved between your thighs, rubbing roughly over your clit until it was pulsing and swollen before he snapped a forceps clamp on it making your body lurch against the restraints as pain rocketed through you.   Evil flicked your clit making a new shock roll though you before he pushed to fingers into your cunt pumping them slowly in and out of you.   The pain slowly faded as pleasure replaced it with Evil twisting and bending his fingers inside you adding a third finger as he stretched in making you moan against the gag as he increased his movements.   You screamed when you suddenly whipped across the underside of your breasts with the steel whipping rod mind torn between pain and pleasure as Evil kept teasing your pussy as he methodically whipped your breasts. 

Pulling his fingers out Evil moved back to his wall of toys and replaced the steel rod and traded it for the leather split crop and making his way back to your spread thighs.  Evil looked at your dripping pussy before changing course and moving to your head and removing the gag.  He wanted to hear your screams and pleas.  See how long it took for you to admit what you had done.   You swallowed frantically gulping in air now that your mouth was free having to choke back your pleas for Evil to stop.   You knew the second you put an end to his games that your relationship was over.  Evil had been abundantly clear on that front. You ever brought an end to his playtime and you were out the door. 

Evil smiled at the scream that echoed through the dungeon as he brought the leather crop down right on your clit shaking the forceps clamping it.   His cock hardened as he slapped your pussy repeatedly your cries an aphrodisiac like no other to him.   Shame you had to fuck everything up.   He was reluctantly impressed that you had managed to hold in your secret thus far.  With a shrug he grabbed another implement, this time selecting the rattan cane immediately setting to work whipping your thighs admiring the red streaks on your flesh as they appeared. 

You sobbed in relief when Evil unstrapped you from the horse practically falling from it and landing on your knees on the floor before Evil yanked your head back by the hair and brutally pulled the nipple clamps making you scream again.

“On the cross.”  He said sharply yanking off the blindfold before releasing you as he moved to grab the nine tail whip making you immediately start to plead with him.  Your pleas fell on deaf ears Evil dragging your protesting form to the cross and strapping you face first into the contraption as you fought against him.  

He brought the whip down hard across your buttocks on the first strike smiling at the scream that filled the air and continued striking you across your back and legs getting perverse pleasure from every cry he ripped from you leaving a criss cross of red stripes from your shoulders to your calves as you begged him to stop. 

“All you have to do is tell me,” Evil said simply before bringing the whip down across your buttocks again.  You froze at his words. It sounded like he knew.  There was no way.  No way he could have found out.  Trying to quell your panic to told yourself there was no way he could know.

“I don’t know what you want Evil.”   You sobbed flinching as he came to stand right behind you, the material of his clothes making your wound feel like they were on fire. 

“You sure about that?  Nothing you need to tell me?”  He asked darkly raking his nails down your back and making you cry out again.  “Stupid fucking whore.  Didn’t think I would find out.  Thought it would stay a secret forever?”  

He stepped back reaching to undo some straps and flip you around so you were facing outwards before re-securing you.   You flinched at the utter contempt and disgust prevalent on his face.

“You should’ve just told me.  This might have gone a lot easier on you.”  Evil shook his head in disappointment before lashing out with the whip striking you across the breasts.   “Now you’re stuck in here with me until I decide I’m done with you.”  

[mtvswatches]

Wynonna Earp 1x08 Two-Faced Jack

Spoilers disclaimer (please read before sending messages or writing comments.)

Click here for previous recaps!

Stray thoughts

1) WTF happened here…

What does Dock mean by “Devil’s hell, plus an angel incarnate?” Why is he looking at the horse when he refers to the angel?

2) WHAT.THE.FUCK

You suffered severe damage to your spinal cord, causing paralysis from the waist down.

It’s clear to me that she’s being held hostage, there clearly was no car accident. But this whole hospital scenario? I don’t know if she’s dreaming or if she’s hallucinating or if someone is inducing her hallucinations or dream-reality or whatever. I mean, she can’t be paralyzed…

3) Doc and Dolls will be forced to work together to rescue her, that should be fun.

4) Wynonna is smart, though. She realized something was off immediately, but even before this “doctor” mentioned the “radical new procedure” he’s been implementing on his patients, she made him take the bait by asking him what University he’d gone to. Plus, she did this:

Which hopefully means she’ll be able to walk soon?

5) Why is Bethany there?! I thought she had been ripped apart!

6) Okay, so this Jack of Knives revenant is a psycho serial killer from Wyatt’s and Doc’s time. Cool. Cool cool cool. And he’s the last of the Seven. That should be a treat.

7) Oh shit, Nicole had to be resuscitated. But this begs the question, why did this Jack-ass took Bethany and not Nicole? I get why he took Wynonna, but what does he need Nicole for? What kind of sick Human-Centipede experiment is he trying to pull off?

8) Ugh Bethany! I get what she means, she’s not brave, she’s just a regular girl, but… Wynonna just told her this guy is a serial killer, so what does Bethany think is going to happen if she stays in her bed and keeps quiet? Look, I’m not a brave person either, but I’ll be skedaddling for sure if my two options were to stay with Dr. Serial Killer or run away.

9) See, Bethany? This is what happens when you’re not a risk-taker…

10) This is scary as fuck, I wasn’t expecting this shit.

11) Wynonna is going to pull one a la Beatrix Kiddo, right?

12) I think I’m shipping this…

My heart turned to mush when she said that. I believe they are a thing, I think I’ve seen some gifs of them on my dash, and if that’s the case, I’m grateful this is not queer-baiting.

13) So the Jack-ass has a type of victim, which again begs the question, what do Bethany and Wynonna have in common that made them his target?

14) Yep, Wynonna is Beatrix-ing the hell outta there.

15) Why do these two give me so many platonic feels?

I truly enjoy their interactions in a different way from his interaction with Wynonna, you know? I see him and Wynonna and I’m like WHY DON’T YOU BANG ALREADY. And then I see him and Waverly, and I’m like AWW THIS IS SO WHOLESOME, HE’S LIKE HER BIG BROTHER! 

16) I don’t know why I loved the shade they gave the Fight Club…

DOC: There are two rules to this, Mr. Dolls.

DOLLS: Let me guess. First rule of fight club, never talk about fight club, right?

DOC: Nobody talks about it, how're fellas gonna know where it is?

17) Dolls literally said what I was about to write…

18) Oh shit…

How did she manage to hold in the pain?!

19) I don’t know, but maybe is what a psycho would say?

 Maybe?

20) Dolls and Doc are gonna fight each other and I’m here for it.

21)

This is going to be delightful to watch.

22) I guess he’s found his motivation…

23) So he wasn’t talking about himself in the third person after all…

This is Jack-ass!

24) Even though I feel this is a case of the kettle calling the pot black…

...I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy it.

25) Yep, he totally deserved that.

Like, telling Doc that Wynonna going missing is his fault? And that Wyatt left him to die? How dare he?

26) He’s so excited he’s won, I love him.

27) There’s no way he’s killed Dolls, though. I’m not buying that. He probably seems dead because of the drugs he’s taking, right? Or he might have been trained to pretend to be dead.

28)

Seriously, though, that was super creepy.

29) I died. Doc trying to figure out how modern technology works is simply the best and a nice reminder that he’s not from this time.

Also, Dolls is alive and kicking, but he hasn’t explained how yet.

30) This reminded me of Cordelia’s “What’s your childhood trauma?”

Also, having a serial killer compare themselves to you is everyone’s dream right?

31) What is this Jack-ass deal though? He likes taking women’s organs out and showing them to the girls, okay. But why? What is he looking for?

32) Okay, yep, Dolls had been trained on how to make himself look dead, but I don’t think he’d be able to pull it off in the situation he was in? In the middle of a fight, when his pulse was probably racing and he was super stressed because Doc had called him out? I don’t think so.

33) Okay, Dolls’ division is starting to look eerily similar to The Initiative…

DOC: If your bosses have no compunction about turning a person into a pin cushion, how are they better than the demons?

DOLLS: Your body is a treasure trove for science. Think about what the military could do with soldiers who didn't get sick, didn't age? It was a decision made for the good of the many.

DOC: I get to choose who I share my treasure trove with, not the goddamn government.

34) Wait, what?

JACK-ASS: I know you're not gonna believe this, but I really liked your father. He wasn't like the other Earp heirs. He wasn't ambitious like Edwin, or courageous like Josiah, but he had something that they didn't have. Wits. When Ward started his little ride, he realized that in order to survive, he was gonna have to make certain alliances.

WYNONNA: With who? Black Badge?

JACK-ASS: Don't be daft. He made a pact with the big man himself. Bobo Del Rey.

WYNONNA: No. My daddy would never make a deal with a demon. Never.

JACK-ASS: They were very close friends

So Wynonna’s father had made a deal with Bobo? Does this mean that the reason the Seven went after him was that he’d broken the pact somehow? I mean, not only did he make a deal with Bobo but he was FRIENDS with him?

I also find it interesting how what made Ward different from the other heirs is probably one of Wynonna’s most important traits – her wits.

35) Bless you, Doc, for saving Wynonna in the nick of time. 

36) Oh, sweet Jebus, these two falling into each other…

Why don’t you kiss already?!

37)

WYNONNA: Don’t kill each other.

DOC AND DOLLS:

38) “It was you… or her.” Doc is trying to teach Dolls about principles, but let’s be real, he probably would’ve made the same choice if he’d been in Dolls’ shoes, so…

39) Can this dude predict the future? Is this where this show is heading…?

JACK-ASS: Oh, I wish I could stay! Watch what's coming next. A reunion. An escape. So much blood.

Who will be reunited? Who will escape? WHO WILL DIE?! I’m scared, but I’m also excited to see if this turns out to be foreshadowing...

40) The Buffy feels are real, y’all!

41) “What now?” is a great question. The Seven are dealt with, so, is Wynonna going after Bobo? The Stone Witch? There are 5 more episodes left, so I’m sure shit is about to get real…

42) Okay, I’m back to liking Dolls since he told his boss Doc is only a con artist and is more concerned about finding out who in his organization is working for Bobo.

43) Yet another great episode. I’m always surprised at how long my recaps are for this show, but there’s so much going on all the time and everything seems relevant somehow? I really can’t wait to see how this season ends…

44)  Hope you enjoyed my recap, and, as usual, if you’ve got this far, thank you for reading! If you enjoy my recaps and my blog, please consider supporting it on ko-fi.Thanks!

[dumplingmaniac-blog]

2D TUMBLR PORTFOLIO

1. PEN (NO PAPER) - The pen assignment. I remember initially being utterly stumped as to what I was going to do for this project. Luckily I pulled through and came up with this. I really like the simplicity in its appearance as well as the process for it.

2. COLOR: BODY AND ENVIRONMENT - Now this one was fun... well minus the outfit but running around finding colors to play off the one was the fun part. It reminded me of my days as an elementary schooler where I’d run around with friends and had fun doing so. It was a nice experience and fun exercise.

3. COLOR: SWATCH - Probably the easiest one yet. Eyedropper tool, you surely are my old reliable.

4. COLOR: COLOR AS BRAND AS MEME | Part 1 | Part 2  - The memes were pretty tough. I originally got some friends together to help me come up with some... but they weren’t able to help me much as they had as much trouble thinking up of stuff I had. But I think they all came out pretty good, my favorite is the Lucky Luciano one (the minimalist guy) since it was the most satisfying to finish.

5. CAMOUFLAGE/DISSOLVE: 10 IN-BETWEEN SPACES - This was one of the assignments that really got my gears spinning! Even from the early stages, I was thinking of where I could implement the box and which angle seemed the most seamless. 

6. CAMOUFLAGE/DISSOLVE: PROCESS - I was surprised at how much time it took for me to work on this one. After I decided my location and got to work painting, the real process began with mixing the right colors to get the exact hues I needed. Especially yellow... I’ve never seen so much failure vomit green in my life!

7. CAMOUFLAGE/DISSOLVE: FINAL - Hidden in plain sight. The whole time before presenting, I remember how dissatisfied I felt and thinking back to myself “If I had more time” or “If I had only done this”. But the critiques went so much better than I anticipated and that really encouraged me to find out what else I was capable of... even if retrospectively I was just getting myself way too pumped up.

8. THE EVERYDAY AND THE VISIBLE: SOURCE - An absolute scramble! I almost ended up not getting an object at all but lucky for me, I saved this box just as it was about to be thrown out. I was hoping we’d be able to cut and repurpose our objects into other items so that I could turn it into a suit of armor or something crazy like that. But giving it new surfaces was cool too... still, the armor would’ve been neat to show off.

9. THE EVERYDAY AND THE VISIBLE: OUT OF PLACE - These pictures are pretty straight forward. They’re places where, for the most part, the box seems out of place. I also wanted to play around with the ways the box was set up in each picture by folding it in different ways. Other than that, not really much else to see here.

10. THE SKIN OF THINGS: PROCESS - I almost forgot about the process pictures before I uploaded it. Good thing I remembered before I finished so I was able to at least have this gif. It more-or-less sums up the majority of the process anyway so it’s fine.

11. THE SKIN OF THINGS: FINAL (NEUTRAL SITUATION) - Looks like I bundled in a couple of things together here. My box in its neutral situation was also one of the in-place images.

12. THE SKIN OF THINGS: IN-PLACE - I can still remember how leaves would go everywhere whenever I’d move the box. Cleaning my trunk afterward took a while, there were so many leaves. The forklift picture was actually where I had it set up to present it but I never got to formally present my object due to time constraints, what a shame. I left the box there and haven’t looked back since. I wonder if it’s still there today?

13. FLAG: IDEOLOGY AND PUBLIC SPACE - My only regret is that I wish I had been able to display it on a store window to tie it in with commercialization and capitalism. That would’ve been excellent.

14. EVERYDAY MONUMENTS: 10 OBJECTS - Going into this one, I was mentally preparing myself to rip apart or break these items, mold them, glue them all together, and/or all of the above. I purposely avoided personal objects. I didn’t know what to expect especially after our last projects.

15. EVERYDAY MONUMENTS: PROCESS - This... was... so... painful... literally and metaphorically. When I started I worked with wire to make the framing. The wires kept scratching and stabbing me. After constructing the wireframe twice and applying half of the paper mache, I came across a problem. It was too floppy. I decided then to start from scratch and get a sturdier material to work with, so I got a 3ftx3ft plank of plywood, printed same size front and back covers, got some white spray paint and went to town. 

16. EVERYDAY MONUMENTS: FINAL (NEUTRAL SITUATION)   - I was so happy to have this finished. It took what felt like an eternity but I got it done and I don’t mean to brag but I think it came out extra nice.

17. EVERYDAY MONUMENTS: IN THE PUBLIC SPHERE (VIDEO) - I am dissatisfied with the video. I had it envisioned in my head but due to the store not letting me film I head to compromise. There’s so much I wish I could’ve re-done about this had I the chance, like I could’ve made a skit involving me playing the game but rather than take out a normal copy I bring out the big one. It’s just one ides but for what it’s worth this video is serviceable and gets the job done, even if it is a bit bland and uninteresting.