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writer-komaru · 2 years

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Panic Attack comfort (PREGAME)

characters: Mikan, Chihiro, & Kagehara

Reader: pink

(Warning- Contains mentions of : Chihiro is said using he/him pronouns. Needles, murdering, distressing behairvor, and content that should not be read by people who get easily disturbed by talk of needles, killing, and The dark. The only thing I ever want to do is comfort people when they feel as though they have no one who can. So please, heed my warnings. Though, if you do need this kind of comfort right now, please, read it as many times as you need. And always remember, these characters love you, even if they are not there to physically show you. I can’t stress this enough, they love you so, so much. They will always be your greatest cheerleaders in life. Please remember that.)

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･' [ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ]'･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

(Happy late birthday, Mikan!~)

~{ Word Count : 1198 }~

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» [the girl I have a crush on ] «

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“W-We’re here, sweetie. Are y-you r-ready to go I-instide?”

Mikan looked at you with her iconic meek expression, her eyes pooling with premature tears, almost expecting you to scold her or something even worse. But instead, you only looked at her with a kind and soft smile. She felt immediately at ease.

“Yeah, I’m ready when you are!”

Little did she know, you were far from at ease.

As you both got out of your car and made your way into Mikan’s clinic. And for a clinic, it was as big as, or even bigger than, a hospital! She worked here alongside countless other nurses and even doctors which she and the ultimate doctor trained themselves, with some help, of course. Ever since the new world program, she made it her responsibility to help heal people instead of hurt them. But, even though there were thousands of well trained health care professionals inside this big building, she honestly would rather herself be the only one to help you with your medical needs. Which brings you to your situation now. You have to get your yearly vaccinations, and your lucky to be blessed with the literal ultimate nurse as your girlfriend. But, you can only be so lucky. There’s a certain secret you haven’t told your girlfriend about that plaques your life every single time you accidentally see something in Mikan’s medicine bag or when you go to the doctors. And it was reeeaallly going to bite you in the ass.

Due to the fact Mikan works at the building (and even created it) you both walked straight into the rooms without needing to wait. As you sat down on the cushiony chair, the paper crinkling as you did, you felt your skin begin to crawl. You tried to faint your best “I’m definitely okay and absolutely not about to have a breakdown” expression to Mikan, who was opening her bag.

“A-All I need to do is a-administer a f-few vaccinations. O-o-only three today, thought! There I-is no reason to b-be scared!! I-I’m always c-careful to s-stay steady enough to c-cause it to b-be pretty much u-u-unnoticeable.”

You nodded, but the tremor on your body at the fact you have to have three whole fucking needles in your couldn’t be very unnoticeable. Mikan realized you were scared and slightly panicked.

“Ah! I-I-I’m sorry! I-I didn’t m-mean to scare you! I p-promise, I’ll d-do my v-very best as a n-nurse to make sure y-you are as comfortable a-as you can be!”

Reluctantly, against everything your body was telling you to do, you agreed.

She gently placed the needles next to you, along with a few packets of alcohol swabs. Your body froze. Just at the slight of those long, pointy, sharp pieces of metal made your body feel like it was being stabbed by millions of small, microscopic, needles. You began to shake again, more violently than before, but Mikan was too busy preparing the first injection. As soon as she reached a hand out to your arm, you let out a loud gasp and jumped back, luckily not falling out of your chair. Your heart was beating faster than a mouses’ as you began to hyperventilate.

“W-W-W-WAHHH!! I-I-I’M SO SO S-SO SORRY!!-“ she quickly retracted her hand, dropping down to her knees with her hands firmly together. “P-PLEASE FORGIVE ME! F-F-FORGIVE ME, READER!! I'M SO SO SO SO SORRY! I WON'T TOUCH YOU EVER AGAIN!!!”

“N-n-no I-it’s not you, it’s just…”

You bit your lip, slowly calming down at the sight of the girl below you, begging for your forgiveness almost pathetically.

“I-I’m really… scared… of needles.”

Her eyes lit up with surprise at your words. You weren’t scared of her, but of needles? But, needles are so small and they hardly ever hurt, especially when she does it. She mentally cussed at herself for saying those kinds of thoughts in her head. Now wasn’t the time to question, it was the time to relax you.

“H-honey… why have you never told m-me before?”

“I… I-I didn’t want you to worry.”

“I h-have to worry about you! It’s my d-duty as your girlfriend. N-now please, let me help you steady your breathing.”

After a few minutes of deep, calming breaths, you felt your body totally relax. Though, tears still stung at the corners of your puffy, red eyes. Mikan was quick to delicately wipe them away with a tissue.

“I-I’m very sorry about everything, honey. Do you want to get y-your v-v… um, things later?”

“….N-No…”

“Okay, I won’t do anything, or even t-touch you, until you are ready.”

You nodded. Normally, it would take a lot of willpower on your part to push yourself to stay calm so a nurse could just you your vaccinations. But this time was different. You didn’t feel like you had to do anything for the sake of others. In fact, it was the apposite way around. Mikan was the one who was making sure not to grab her needles and touch your arm when you weren’t ready and made sure to speak in a low, gentle voice. Maybe this time everything will be better.

“I-im ready. You can touch me now.”

“Y-you are? O-okay, I’m just g-going to clean the area with the alcohol swab. Is that okay?”

“M-mhm…”

“Okay, all clean. Are you okay? W-would it be too soon for me t-to pick up the n-n-needle? Ah! I-im sorry, I didn’t mean to suggest you hurry up! Please, you can slap me if you-“

“No, i-i-it‘s okay. Just please, don’t do it yet.”

Mikan nodded and grabbed the needle with skilled fingers, not moving it close to your arm, just slightly in the air.

“A-are you ready to do it? W-w-would you like me to c-count?”

You closed your eyes tight, tensing your body. At this rate, if she did the injection, it would actually hurt.

“Honey, pumpkin, please, l-look at me. Not the needle. It won't my hurt you. I won’t hurt you, I promise. I-I’ve giving thousands of people vaccinations so I’ve found the best way as to stimulate the nerves around your arm as little as possible. You will barely feel a thing. So please, can you trust me, even if just this once? I promise I will do my very best.”

With a few more deep breaths, you felt your body relax again.

“O-okay, you can c-count. I’m ready.”

“I-o-okay. D-don’t look while I do it. I’ll do it in 5….. 4…… 3…… 2…. 1….”

You and Mikan returned to your car. Your arm barely even felt sore from the injections. Mikan did even better than you had thought. It honestly did feel like… nothing. And you could tell by the look on her face now that she was putting everything she had into making you feel as little as possible. Her breathing was a bit shallow and she seemed to be a bit exhausted.

“Mikan?”

“Y-yes, honey?”

“Why not go home, cuddle, and watch a movie?”

“W-wha? I s-should be the one treating you well! W-when we get home, I-I’ll make sure to show you all the affection I-I have for you in my h-heart.”

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･' [ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ]'･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

~{ Word Count : 852+ }~

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» [Icarus - Instupendo ] «

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On one late and drizzling night, you and your boyfriend, Chihiro, decided to spend your time together by staying up late to watch both of your favorite anime. After a few hours, the digital clock on your night read 1:46, signaling it was getting pretty late. But, you only shrugged it off and nestled closer into Chihiro’s embrace. This was your absolute favorite way to spend your time. Watching anime? Resting? All of these with your boyfriend? There’s nothing you wished for mroe than for more moments like these.

“Hey baby…. Yawn, It’s getting pretty late. Do you wanna go to sleep or watch a few more?”

“Hmmm, maybe just a couple. I love watching anime with you.”

“Hehehe, awww, you're so cute!”

Sooner or later, it had been a few hours after your first check in of the clock, but you were too tired to get up. It's just too comfy. Chihiro had already fallen asleep, while you were getting closer and closer to falling as well. The dim glow of the tv shone on both of your faces, allowing you to barely make out in your sleepy haze the delicate features of your boyfriend’s face. He really was the most adorable thing you have ever seen. Just as you were beginning to summon enough energy to move over and kiss him on the cheek, it went dark.

Really, really fucking dark. Like blackout curtains, solar eclipse dark. You could barely even see the covers of the bed right next to your face. Your body went as stiff as a rock, breathing growing ragged, and sweat coating your skin in wet, uncomfortable slick. Your panicked eyes darted around the room. Noises from the night rang through your head, echoing off of the shadowy walls and striking you through your heart. You let out a scream. You didn’t want to be loud as your sleeping Angel was right next to you and you knew he needed the sleep, but all your thoughts and inhibitions had left you as soon as the TV had powered off. Your frantic body shook, diving under the covers. Chihiro groaned in his sleep, slowly stirring awake.

“Hm….? Wha… yawn, is everything okay- huh? Baby? Where did you-“

Chihiro felt the tight grip of your arms around his legs, burying your face into his knees, moving into the fetal position. He suddenly snapped back to reality when he heard your sobbing from under the covers.

“Huh?! Buttercup, are you alright?! Come here, let me hold you close. Will that make you feel better?”

You nodded against him. You didn’t even have to explain your actions to Chihiro. He may not be as analytical as Byakuya and Kirigiri or as clever as Makoto, but he still was very smart. He had the power to be able to connect the dots. Judging by the fact that you only started to freak out after it was completely dark, and not while you were previously watching anime together, he assumed you were very, very scared of the dark. And this realization made him feel bad. Very, very bad. He wasn’t there for you were you first started to panic. He promised himself he would always be there for you, to help you whenever you need it, to be someone who can push you to be the best you that you can be, but here he was, sleeping peacefully while the love of his life has a panic attack. He pulled you from underneath the covers and immediately wrapped his arms around you tightly, almost a little too hard, but it worked well to ground you back into reality. As the noises in your mind stated to die down, so did your breathing.

“D-do you want me to… say some things to make you feel better?”

You nodded against his neck.

“Well, I’m here for you. There’s no need to worry about what is in the dark when I’m around. I’ll be here to protect you. And besides, there’s nothing in the dark that can hurt you. It’s just my room. I know it like the back of my hand, so when I say nothing can hurt you here, I mean it, buttercup. Why not get some sleep together this time? I’ll hold you as tight as I can so you can know that nothing can hurt you. Is… that okay?”

“Y-yeah. Thank you… thank you so much, Chihiro.”

“It’s no problem! It’s what I’m here for. To make sure to as happy and safe as you can be.”

After that, Chihiro didn’t let you go. He held you close to him the whole night until both of you fell asleep. After that, you felt a lot better sleeping in his room, even when the darkness lurked all around you. You knew that when things got scary, Chihiro would always be there to protect you. He would cradle you in his arms, hug you from behind, or if you wanted, let you sleep on top of him even though he wasn’t the tallest guy out there. As long as you felt safer, that’s all that matters to him.

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･' [ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ]'･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

~{ Word Count : 666 }~

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» [ sorry, I like you] «

.•*. Slowed .*•.

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As the sun slowly started to disappear from sight, leaving an amber glow upon everything it touched, you and your boyfriend Kagehara were cuddling on the couch together while watching the newest season of Danganronpa. You were never a big fan of the show due to its premise of killing, fourth wall breaking, and even one of your friends who tried to sign up for the show was reported as missing just a few days later. But, Kagehara was the opposite of you. He was extremely passionate about all things Danganronpa, a true fanboy, if you will. So, of course, one day as you were visiting his house like you normally do, he popped the question of watching his favorite murder show with you. And against what your Brian was telling you, you agreed.

“Eh? Why is it so dark in here? Where are you?”

As one of the characters mindlessly walked into the pitch black room, you felt a knot form in your chest. Your grip on Kagehara’s arm tightened. His eyes flicked over to you, noting your scared expression but not giving it any thought, as you both were watching something very unnerving, after all. Of course you would be scared. It was the whole point of it, right?

Just as the lights shot back on, temporarily blinding the character, another one with a hatchet jumped out and struck them square on the head, blood splattering and oozing out of the wound. Their lifeless body fell to the ground, a terrified expression permanently stuck on his face. You let out a blood curdling shriek, diving into the space between Kagehara and the couch. He jumped as well, mostly due to your sudden movement. He now knew this was a whole lot more serious than he first thought.

“Ah! My darling! Love, are you alright? There’s no need to be afraid, I’m here to protect you. See?”

He suddenly wrapped his arms tightly against your body, cradling your head in his arms. Slowly, you started to relax into his embrace.

“I-I… sniff.. I just d-don’t… I don’t want to be… killed. It’s.. it’s like, I don’t know when it could happen, and-“

“No. No, no, no, darling, there is no need to even worry about it, or even think about it. Nothing, and I mean nothing is going to hurt you. I’m here to protect you. I always will. No matter if someone were to break in or try to attack you, you can always trust that I will be there to defend you. No matter what. You are my love, the love of my life. I have to protect you, forever and always. Got it?”

Tears began rolling down your cheeks, but not sad tears. It made you feel so relieved to hear him say that, even if it was a tad off putting to hear it from the same man who ended up putting someone in the hospital all because someone put a hand on your shoulder while trying to flirt with you. In Front of him. Yep, you better believe that creep was on the ground, crying like a baby from the overwhelming pain. All in public, mind you. Kagehara was lucky to just get off with a minor slap on the wrist since he was able to tell officers it was out of defense for you. With a couple witnesses to back it up, he didn’t even have to go to court.

But anyways, he let you fall asleep in his arms after that, staying perfectly still so as to not wake you up.

“I’ll stay up to watch over you, just to make you feel extra safe, okay? I’ll be right here holding you when you wake up. Have the sweetest dreams, my darling~”

With one final kiss goodnight, you finally drifted off to sleep.

And what happens when you wake up? He is still there with tired, loving eyes, happy to see you got some needed sleep. Poor guy.

♡ /(´°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥ω°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥’ )\

85 notes · View notes

whaleofatjme1920 · 2 years

Note

Hello! I was hoping for a comfort thing (i forget what the term is called sjdhshdb).

I recently had a small stroke on the 14th. A few days ago I started physical therapy and they told me that I might not have function in my right side for months- and to get back to the strength and ability I had before the stroke? They said it could take two whole years. I have to see them three times a week, and since I’m the only one who was able to work in my household, I’ve been stressed about how I’m going to afford all these appointments for the foreseeable future. Im have to use a walker to get around since I can’t put weight on my right leg, or it collapses. I don’t have full sensation in my right side, and right ear doesn’t hear as well. I feel like a burden when I ask my parents for help, since I can barely do anything on my own. I can’t even use the bathroom by myself and it’s literally right across from my bedroom.

So, I was wondering if you could write how Ticci Toby, Kate the Chaser, and who ever else you want would react and support their S/O who is going through something like I am? It can be headcanons, a one shot, a fic— It’s totally up to you! Thank you in advanced! It would mean so much to have this done.

Toby, Kate, Eyeless Jack and Hoodie Supporting an SO Who Had a Stroke

[GN Reader]

[AN: !! I hope you're well! I know we've been talking, but like genuinely you deserve so much love and support.]

Toby

Toby has a habit of making mountains out of molehills, so like honestly you're going to have to calm him down after telling him what's happened and coming to.

He cares about you so deeply and anything that even gives him the slightest inkling you could be lost forever makes him panic.

But once he's in a clear state of mind, he's really good for physical therapy!

He knows how frustrated you must be and he urges you to channel that frustration into something productive because that's what he's learned to do over the years.

Toby isn't always the most patient, but he gets it. He's there for you every step of the way. Don't apologize asking him for help it is his absolute pleasure to take care of you. Not a power thing, but pure love for you.

He'll take you to appointments, assist you with walking, hell he'll even back off if that's what you want because he does NOT want to baby you if you're not comfortable.

Once you're in a good place, he makes the whole thing easier to swallow. Toby copes with humor, and if you allow him, he'll help you do the same.

Toby is honestly such a sweetheart and is there for you every step of the way. Anything you want, anything you need, just name it and he's got it.

Kate

She's honestly handling it better than anyone else here if I'm being honest.

Once she's over the initial worry, she's mostly taking care of you with whatever you want.

Kate will make you food and give you things - it's just kinda what she does?? Like, I think one of her main love languages is gift giving so that's going to work into here.

Kate is really, really patient and will help ground you when you feel like floating off.

She's a darling through and through. Drives you places, handles things for you, and if you're worried about work or anything, appointments, her contacts stretch pretty far and wide. She's got you.

Kate helps you with physical therapy to the best of her abilities. I feel she broke a leg pretty bad as a kid and had to go through physical therapy as a result.

She likes to hold you and silently tell you how it's going to be alright. Wants you to feel safe.

With her at your side, 2 years feel like nothing.

Eyeless Jack

Medical professional wannabe, ofc he's got this in the bag.

You might honestly need to tell him to stop looking at this so clinically. He just wants to look at like, a treatment plan or something first.

Once he realizes you need a more nurturing, sweet kind of healing besides just the clinical stuff, Jack takes really good care of you.

He likes to hold you and purr. Also helps with physical therapy, and lets you vent to him pretty regularly because he knows how stifling it must be holding all this in!

I feel like recovering with Jack is honestly way better than anyone else because he's got medical knowledge and patience - paired with his nurturing nature towards his mate?? It's good.

If you have trouble hearing or anything of the like, Jack is very good with sign language! In fact, it's an unspoken law for all creeps and proxies to know sign, and it's a good skill to have regardless if you're hearing or not.

Jack does not want you apologizing for asking for his help!

He likes taking care of people, he'd just never openly admit it.

Hoodie

Brian actually has a knack for the medical field so like, he's got you just as good as Jack would! However, he's a lot more personal about it because well, he love you, how could he not be?

Brian is instantly at your bedside, answering your ever call because he knows how much you need him. Does not let you apologize or anything because he believes it's his job as your SO.

He's really, really good for the emotional aspect of all of this. Makes sure you're mentally healthy and that you have a safe way to vent.

He's good at physical therapy too. As a proxy, he's broken so many parts of himself it's unreal. Like, he gets it.

The two of you spend a lot of time taking it easy, speaking softly, just processing everything you're going through. He just wants you to feel okay again.

Brian does so many things for you because he doesn't want you to expend yourself AT ALL. He feels you're fragile, but ask him to back off and he will.

Brian has a habit of babying his SO just because he forgets how resilient humans can really be.

Brian adores you so, so much, he's just thankful you're still in his arms, and he'll be there with you every step of the way.

108 notes · View notes

yandere-wishes · 4 years

Text

In The Streets Of London (Twisted Wonderland X Reader

Victorian Au)

Part one of a series, let me know in the comments who you think the killer is!

💖 💖 💖 💖 💖 💖 💖 💖 💖 💖 💖 💖 💖 💖 💖 💖 💖 💖 💖 💖 💖 💖

Ghastly murder in the east end dreadful mutilation of a woman by the man known as the leather apron

"He killed another woman last night, father! How can you sit so idly by!"

The onyx skirt brushed up against the young girl's legs as she passed to and for across the room. Her leather gloves racked her (h/c) locks from her face, pulling them back in hopes that the thuggish feeling would simulate her frozen brain. "It a fifteen puzzle (1) even for Scotland yard!" she bellowed. "Than what in the devil's name do you think you and I could do about it, darling!" Her father turned to her, his grey eyes caging annoyance and misery. His tone was right above irritated...her father was never a delight went he became irritated. Divus Crewel, known to most of England as the finest mind in chemistry and alchemy in the 19th century. His daughter (y/n) Crewel was allegedly following in her father's footsteps in hopes of one day becoming a female fetal in chemistry herself. Of course, that's what all of England thought, the truth of the matter was rather was quite different. (y/n) harbored no interest in becoming a chemist nor an alchemist, the young lady found her interest in a more macabre filed, the field of forensic medicine to be precise. Prying secrets from the dead had become her little habit and due to Lord Crewel's rather negligent parenting, the girl had begun to study her precious cadavers full time, taking classes three times a weak in Night Raven College's medical and criminal department. For her it was exhilarating! Having to dress as a boy and sneak her way around the dreary campus was just as exciting as tea parties at the queen's palace were for "regular ladies".

"I bet he wore a Gigglemug (2) as he slashed their throats open!" (Y/n) the loud voice reverberated off the walls, it's heavy decibels hitting Divus right on his two-colored head.

"Love of my life, sunshine to my trepidation, NO ONE CARES! God dame that stupid sociopath, he's making my life miserable by occupying your grisly mind!"

(Y/N) ignored her father's outburst, her short heels clicking across the wooden floor of her father's laboratory. Her brain tried to envisage the infamous East-End to no avail, all she could picture was filth littered grey streets with a woman's corpse lying in her own ichor. Even the killer was hard to presume, there was no bloody way in hell that that monster could be human! No living being could do such heinous deeds, it must have been the devil himself! No no, such thought where for the uneducated, the people with simple minds, no she...she was a lords daughter one who was enrolled -illegally mind you- at one of the most prestigious schools in all of London--NO England! If anyone could find his monster it was going to be HER!

"I wonder if he'll--" A loud tapping came from the closed wooden door on the far end of the underground chamber. "Oh thank the all mighty himself!" Divus professed, lifting his occupied arms to the invisible sky, spilling some magenta liquid onto the table. Carelessly tossing the beacons aside, Divus rushed to the door a chip little prep in his usually professional step. Swinging the door open with as much force as a child ripping Christmas gifts.

(Y/n) remained behind, slumping tiredly in her father's chair. Her untrained eyes scanned the chemicals boredly, wishing that the half-rat (3) liquids would turn into tiny figurines, performing the event of the night of the crime. However, her bewildered thoughts where shortly heckled, by a pleasant young voice along with the ringing of her father's vexatious smoky voice. "Ah, Commander Ashengrotto and Chief Superintendent Shroud what do we own the pleasure of this unexpected visit." from the distance (y/n) heard some shuffling, abruptly jumping to her feet and straightening out her skirts. Her eyes followed the three men that trailed down the steps. Her father walking past to stand by her as Commander Ashengrotto and Chief Superintendent Shroud stood in front of her. Or in the case of Mr. Shroud, attempted to hide behind his superior officer. The grey-haired man, bowed politely, lightly taking hold of miss Crewel's hand in his leather-bound one and placing a fleet, feather-like kiss atop the back of her hand. Azul glared at Idia, the former's elbow digging sharply into the later’s side. Hesitantly Idia, folded into a clumsy half-bow before straightening back up, during the whole endeavor one could clearly hear the loud cracking over every bone in this spine. "Well..." Your father started, clearly annoyed at the murky silence. "out with it lads, what are you lot doing here?" Azul's ocean colored eyes stared as straight as an arrow into Divus's grey ones. "Professor Crewel, it may be best to send your lovely daughter out? I wouldn't want to taint her stunning innocence with this ghastly talk about gore and murder." His eyes spared a gaze at you, roaming over your figure with an amused glint. Before your father could answer you proclaimed loudly."I, my dear Ashengrotto, am not as innocent as you fancy me! I will choose to stay IF I SO DESIRE." From the side, you could practically feel your father roll his eyes. "Allow her to stay" Your father mumbled tiredly "The sudden shock of it all may knock some sense into this senseless girl." "As you wish" with that the detective became talking:

"We have reason to believe that...this Ripper or well "Leather Apron" as the news has begun to call him, is, in fact, one of the nobl--" (Y/n) gasped, her eyes widening with excitement. "REALLY! He could be living right in our neighborhood!!" A forceful smack hitting her head, it's vibrations sending waves of pain through her body. "Try and bot sound so excited darling daughter of mine. My apologies Commander, care to continue?" Azul coughed into his fist, clearly killing a laugh. "Yes, quite alright my lord. As I said we so believe the murder to be of noble heritage. As you may know, the Al-Asims are hosting a Nobleman's ball tomorrow evening I trust you have been invited." He paused in his speech looking from (y/n) to her father. Divus gave a court nod in the inspector's direction becoming him to continue. "Perfect! Well since you shall be in attendance I would greatly love for your daughter to ...how do I word this...Play bait?"

"ABSOLUTELY NOT" Mr. Crewel screeched, "I shall not have my daughter mafficking (4) in the streets as a wannabe prostitute to help capture a deranged and rather vexing murderer!" Azul took a step backward, his back pressing smugly against Idia's chest. Even (y/n) sted half an inch away from her father. "Professor Crewel please relax, I simply mean that during the party (y/n) could slip out with an officer, who will be heavily armed. This may cause the ripper, who appears to have a warped sense of justice, to follow them. Once he decides to attack the officer will shoot at him and that will be the end of the Ripper's reign of terror over London." Divus rolled his eyes "marvelous plan detective...except what if the ripper chooses to not attack then? And go after my daughter once she is alone, asleep in her bed! Or outside shopping with some absent-minded servants? What then?" Azul lips knitted into a tight frown, his voice dying in this throat long before it reached his tongue. The professor did make a compelling point.

"Than we will send heavily armed guards around both you and your daughter until the ripper is caught." A dead, monotone voice cracked. For the first time since walking into the house either of the residences had heard Idia speak. His voice was so brittle and fragile that (y/n) though it would visibly shatter if any of them dared to respond. Even her father seemed too nervous to speak...an odd this for such a powerful man. It was Azul, who decided to speak first, unlike before his voice was low and decile no longer laced with that regal elegance. "Yes...as my partner just...um just...mentioned. If our plan does -by some unearthly phenomena- fail we will have guards circling you and your daughter until the ripper is caught and brought to justice."

It took the longest while before your father agreed. Of course, he placed some very strict requirements before officially "sending you to your doom" as he worded it. As the two detectives left you could hear the Shroud boy mumbling a string of "do I also have to attend?"

and "can't you catch him yourself?" as he left the house. "Peculiar man ain't her, father?" Your eyes tuned to your only parent, "yes yes, quite bizarre." His gloved fingers wrapped tightly around your wrist dragging you along up the stairs. "We have much to do if we are to prepare you for the Al-Asim ball"

💖 💖 💖 💖 💖 💖 💖 💖 💖 💖 💖 💖 💖 💖 💖 💖 💖 💖 💖 💖 💖 💖

There was an unspoken tension amongst presumably every guest in the ballroom. all that swayed and danced, flaunting their pricey dresses and custom made suits, harbored a form of dark secret within their souls...no one in England was innocent but tonight, just for tonight there was one man who's guilt outshined the rest, one man how's hands where permanently panted with the blood of three innocent women.

(Y/n)'s back was pressed against the cool tiles of a stark white pillar. Her eyes darted from person to person, trying to memorize as much as possible about all of them. "Shouldn't a young noblewoman such as yourself be out there dancing?" ripples of dread and annoyance bounced inside the spoiled girl, who dared to speak to her in such a manner? She turned furiously ready to shout at whoever had just talked, only to stop short when she came face to face with the tall bored-looking butler holding a tray of drink parallel to his head. His grey eyes seemed to hold a dreaded looking, eyeing her curiously. Was this the officer who was meant to take her outside? Figuring it best to play (y/n) puffed up her chest a bit and leaned in close. "Do you have the money?" she whispered. The butler's face remained stoic, he simply sighed and muttered something to himself. "Madam if I had any money I certainly wouldn't be wasting in on the likes of you." He plucked a sparkling drink from the tray and reached to pass it to the young women. "Feather more I would highly recommend having a more subtle way of distinguishing your clients if you aren't too careful rumors may spiral and that chap...what was his name Jack the apron? May come to get you in your sleep." (Y/n)'s eyes widen as she gripped the drink 'It was him!' she thought, he was the killer! Before the girl could phantom out a reply the butler was already well on his way. She had to find someone! To tell someone quickly! She turned frantically trying to find her father or one of the detectives. "Hey, girly..." A low voice echoed from the shadows under the stairs. That must be the detective (y/n) thought to herself, she lifted her skirts and quickly marched over to the darkness hiding the owner of the voice.

Something grabbed (y/n)'s wrist, it was practically cutting off circulation. "W-who are you?" the girl struggled to form a coherent question. The man's face was mostly masked by the dimness but his emerald-like eyes shown like train's headlights. "Are you just like one of those three gals? The whores that died out on the street?" (Y/n) heartbeat began to quicken, she was wrong that butler wasn't the killer, this man was. When she looked at his eyes again they were molded into a sharp glare. All of a sudden the man let go of her wrist "Doesn't matter.." he murmured "I got other things to take care of...." His deep voice kept fading like it too was getting swept up in the darkest parts of the ballroom. "Do me a favor if anyone asks where Kingscholar is, come up with some good lie to tell them. Just make sure you don't say anything about me going outside. Aright dame?" With that the darkness seemed to swallow him whole, even his footsteps couldn't be heard as he walked away, only the absence of his suffocating aura. 'He had to be the killer' she thought to herself as she stepped back into the light of the lively ballroom.

Tiredly (y/n) wondered to the dessert table, her brain occupied, questions married questions, and gave birth to theories. Which one was it? The butler, lord Kingscholar? Neither may be, although that would just mean that you were only on edge rightfully, although you wished to keep your cool exterior. At the dessert table, every single surgery treat seemed to glisten. Their frosting's danced in the bright light of the thousands upon thousands of candles. (Y/n)'s mouth watered as she reached for a particular red tart in the corner of the desk. As she outstretched her hand it came to gently stroke up against another's hand. Her eyes darted upwards coming into contact with a smiling young man with clover colored hair. "My apologies my lady" He announced as he dipped into a bow. Automatically (y/n) gathered her skirts before curtsying herself. "Would you like the first piece" he offered, (y/n) nodded as the man cut a perfect slice and swiftly offered the plate to her before cutting one for himself. "I do adore cherry tarts" he spoke, "My family owns a bakery on the border of the upper west and east end. I personally stayed late last night just to finish this tart." (y/n) eyes began to shimmer as she placed the tart on the table. "So you must have heard the girl who was killed there!" she proclaimed. The man's eyes went wide, nervous beads of sweat dripped down his scalp. "Why miss, I don't know what your...implying." His once upbeat voice dropped an octave, his bright eyes seemed to get darker. For a second (y/n) contemplated what to do, was he acting so bizarrely because he had witnessed the murder? Or had he committed the murder? Before the young lady could ask him anything further a pair of boys, one short with a nest of blond unkempt hair and the other quite tall and muscular with snowy white hair came dashing towards them. "Have either of you seen leo- err, um" the blond one started

"The younger lord Kingscholar?" the white-haired boy started.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I...I saw him head to the dance floor with a young lady..." Her tone fluctuated, her face compressed into an emotionless look, prying to any who would listen that her lie would not be called out. The two boys exchanged a worried glance, their eyes as wide as plates. "He's probably with Ferona's wife again" the blond one spoke, nervous giggles leaping from his mouth. The taller boy quickly bowed, before running towards the host of dancers, his companion soon following his lead. When (y/n) turned back ready to speak with the grass haired young man, she noticed that he was nowhere in sight. Vanished like the magicians in the traveling circus.

For the third time that night, (y/n) could feel her heart pounding in her chest. The treat of a killer loomed at every corner of this mansion, every man here seemed to -in some way- resemble the faceless killer. And worst of all her "personal guard" was nowhere in sight! Not to mention her father was most likely off with some nobleman's wife or daughter doing lord knows what. Tears of frustration threatened to spill from her eyes. Everything was going wrong, she was no inspector, she could barely keep her composure during such a time of ease.

"Miss Crewel" A tiny bird-like voice, shook the girl from her misery. Turning her head she saw a young boy no older than 10. His blue hair and golden eyes were carbon copies of inspector Shrouds. "Where is my bother?" it took a moment for (y/n) to comprehend the question. "If you are talking about Mr. Shroud than I do not know...did he even attend tonight" the question came out more haughty than she had hoped, the last thing she wanted was to appear as a rude wrench to such a young child. "Well..." the boy's voice trailed off "He was supposed to meet you. You are the bait, aren't you? He was the officer entrusted with playing the role of your client." The young boy's eyes dropped his cheery pure nature slowly morphed into one as similar to his brothers, gloomy and dead.

"He hasn't been himself lately, the matter has only gotten worst when Scotland yard began investigating the killer....he's so tense about the matter, almost as if the case was perso--"

"THERE'S BEEN A MURDER! SOMEONE CALL THE POLICE QUICK!" From the front of the ballroom two boys, one with red hair and the other with ebony hair stood. There faces where distraught sweat flew down their cheeks. For a fraction of a second silence flew over the crowd....only to veer into screams of terror and the ramped running of both lords and ladies. During the midst of the anarchy, you searched the entire chamber...there was no sign of Idia, nor Lord Kingscholar, nor the green-haired boy, nor the rude butler....all those you had suspected where gone...

Following the crowd, you and Ortho ran outside into the gardens. Sure enough, laying in a pool of her own blood with a torn stomach and guts pulled out, was a young lady no older than you where and right around her bleeding kneck a parchment note was pinned.....

Who do you guys think the killer is?

Tag list

@ghostiebabey @delusional-obsessions @succubus-lair @themarchinghare @permanentlyexhaustedowl @twst-diana @yuoritsu @pumpkiethepie @ladyy-grimm @xwildskullx

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prurientpuddlejumper · 3 years

Text

Spit-Roast Psychiatrist [Part 5, Male Reader][18+]

<- Part 4 | Part 6 ->

Frederick Chilton x Reader x Bryan Kneef

For @thatesqcrush‘s Summer Bingo: anal square

With apologies to all medical professionals in the audience. I am absolutely sure this violates hospital policy :)

Warnings: NSFW. Hospital sex. Threesome. Anal sex. Blowjob with bedridden burn patient. Improper sterility procedures for removal of a foley catheter. Basically sounding. Not exactly piss kink (despite the debauched suggestions on Discord, no one drinks from Chilton’s catheter like a sippy-straw) but there is a bit of pee I mean not much but look it just kind of happens, OK?

5,500 words

Bryan Kneef shifted uncomfortably.

In another room, a heart monitor beeped quietly but incessantly, and if it continued much longer, he might go insane. The dry air filling the sterile white walls was slightly too cold for someone dressed in cool linen, prepared for a southern summer. Outside, bees and flowers filled the hazy orange world, but it was always winter inside the Chesapeake Hospital burn ward. His eyes darted around for the offending AC vent. Searching for anything to fixate on besides the man in front of him.

Frederick Chilton was laid out on a hospital bed like a corpse. Inflamed skin wrinkled with scars wrapped too tightly around his bones, as if there were no muscle in between, and white teeth grinned from his skull like a mummy. He hadn’t moved from that bed in months.

Bryan wasn’t one to cower from difficult situations, but this? He didn’t know how to behave around the sick.

“Well, you look like shit,” he at last blurted.

Frederick Chilton rolled his eyes, scowling as much as his face was able without the assistance of lips.

In the bedroom, Frederick reveled in being humiliated, the ego of his outside persona stripped away and torn down. He deserved it, and fuck, he loved getting what he deserved. And the praise for being a good little slut made him melt.

Outside was an entirely different matter. That carefully constructed persona—the esteemed psychiatrist who demanded respect—could not be threatened. Not by a vulgar, unpredictable man like Bryan who knew his filthy secrets.

So why did he call?

“I assure you, it looks better than it feels,” Chilton grunted. His speech was slow and deliberate. Daily sessions with a speech therapist were helping his cheeks and tongue learn to produce shapes and sounds his lips once handled, but it would never be quite the same.

Bryan took a step toward the bed. He puffed his chest out and pretended not to be bothered by the skeletal figure that seemed barely clinging to life.

“I’m not your dick-for-rent you can use whenever you want,” he said, cutting to the chase.

Chilton coughed—a weak, wheezing sound, accompanied by involuntary spittle. “Yet here you are, running when I call.”

Why did he come?

“Any chance to fuck our boy,” Bryan smirked. In other words: I’m not here foryou.

The flash of pain in Frederick’s eyes made him instantly regret saying it. It wasn’t the cute sort of jealousy when he had Fred on his knees, desperate to come—it was the kind that made his eyes drop to the floor.

A few hard lines on Bryan’s face softened. His lips went slack in their bearded nest. He would never admit that he had been worried sick, or the tears he’d shed when he heard the news. Baltimore Psychiatrist Mutilated by Red Dragon. He was pissed that he had to read it in a newspaper first, but your voice was so trembling and weak when you finally called—when you told him the doctors all said Frederick wasn’t going to make it. You were too distraught to think. He had to remind you to eat something. You asked if he wanted to come to the hospital to say goodbye, and he pretended he was too busy with a case.

But Frederick didn’t die.

A stillness came over the room, both men so lost in their thoughts they hardly noticed the other had also fallen silent.

“As you can see, I am in no condition to provide… sexual release.”

“Shame. You used to give great head.”

Affronted by Bryan’s piercing gaze, Frederick turned his head away as far as he could. It wasn’t far enough to hide his tattered mouth.

“I suppose I could return the favor,” Bryan mused, daring to lean closer over the bed, dropping his voice.

Blood rushed to Frederick’s cheeks and between his thighs. He had sucked Bryan off many times, but never had Bryan in a submissive position. The image of him between his legs, piercing eyes gazing up at him with a mouth stuffed full of his cock sent a shiver up his spine.

“No,” he stammered. “I asked you here for one reason.”

He was too skittish for such a thing now—too accustomed to Bryan’s roughness to trust him with his fragile body. Besides, he had not missed the shock on Bryan’s face when he entered the room, or how he almost turned around at the door. What would he say if he saw his grafted cock? Mere weeks ago, the poor organ had been flayed—flaps of skin peeled around the bloody shaft, stretched, split, pinned back down in place, and stitched together again under the head.

It was better now. The surgeries corrected uneven scarring that would have made erections painful, and it had time to heal. But it still felt… tender. Sore in a way that was not physical. It looked like a medical experiment.

No. He was not ready yet. But he wanted to see you happy. Bryan could give you pleasure his bedridden, broken shell could not.

***

You were surprised to find Bryan Kneef sitting in the visitor’s chair in the corner of the hospital room. He was flipping through an issue of The Wall Street Journal with a bored expression, one leg crossed over the other, but smiled and stood when you walked in.

“Bryan? What are you doing here?”

He paused long enough before answering to suggest the question stung—as if you were implying he shouldn’t have been there, which was not what you intended at all. In fact, it explained a few things.

“Shh. He’s sleeping,” he whispered.

A glance at the bed showed that Frederick was dozing peacefully—a rarity these days. You nodded your understanding. It would be a shame to wake him.

With a quiet sigh, you rushed into Bryan’s arms, burying your face against his solid form. Thick arms closed around your waist, warm and comforting, and his beard rubbed the back of your neck as he rested his chin over your shoulder.

“It’s good to see you,” you sniffed, and just like that, hot tears were rolling over the brim of your eyelids, soaking into the collar of Bryan’s white linen jacket.

“You too.”

He held you tighter, surprised at the lurch in his heart. His eyes hung on the broken figure sleeping on the bed and imagined what it had been like for you all these months. This gaunt thing was Frederick recovering. You were all alone when he was unconscious, his body an open wound, machines keeping him alive. Alone because Bryan was too selfish and cowardly to be near that kind of sickness. But he was here now, and the way your body clung to him, he knew it had been a long time since you had someone to comfort you.

***

“Right here in the hospital?” You quirked an eyebrow. Frederick had a private room in the burn ward, since his care was so intensive, but there was a constant stream of nurses in and out.

“Yes, here,” Frederick replied. “I want to see you.” A hungry spark entered his eye, and he sucked a quick breath to prevent his salivation from escaping.

Now that his plan was so close to fruition, excitement roiled in his stomach that he hadn’t felt in a long time. At first, calling Bryan was only meant as a gift for you. But suddenly, a familiar heat flared up in his belly, and he wanted to see—wanted to watch your eyes roll back as Bryan split you open.

“Don’t worry, we bribed the nurse supervisor not to disturb us,” Bryan added, hand on your lower back.

“Did you do as I instructed?”

The pressure in your ass seemed to increase as your mind was drawn back to it. “Yes,” you swallowed heavily. “I was wondering about that.” A plug kept your tight hole stretched and prepared, worn under your clothes, just as he had asked.

“Good.”

“So… you want to watch Bryan fuck me?” you purred, starting to get into the mood. You put your hands on the side of the bed and smirked down at Frederick, sticking your ass out for Bryan.

Before Frederick could answer, Bryan interrupted: “No.”

Frederick opened his mouth. You gave an equally confused look.

“I’m his dick-for-rent today,” Bryan chuckled, low and sultry. “Isn’t that right, Dr. Chilton? I’m going to fuck you for the doctor, since he can’t do it himself. Whatever way he wants.” He ran his palms over your shoulders and down your arms as if he were presenting you to Frederick as a gift.

Frederick nodded, not missing a beat as he pretended that was his plan all along, and not an unexpected act of charity from a man who seemed anything but charitable. When he woke to find the two of you conversing in hushed voices like a couple of dear old friends, he felt a sting of fear that Bryan was stealing you away.

So Bryan was going to let him be in charge? He liked the sound of that. After three months of bondage within his own skin, he liked the sound of that a lot.

***

“Pull it out slowly,” Chilton instructed.

Your ass spasmed around the flare of the plug as Bryan gradually removed it, and, under Chilton’s guidance, drizzled more lubricant over it.

“Push it in again. Fuck him with it a little.”

“Yes, doctor,” obeyed Bryan.

A guttural moan escaped your chest as he plunged it back inside, twisting it, fucking the lube back into your tight entrance. Your fingers clenched on the metal guardrail at the edge of the mattress.

“That’s right,” Chilton mumbled. “Good.” He raptly watched you bent above him, arousal building by the second.

He had never been more pleased with Bryan, following his instructions perfectly as he worked you open, first with the plug, then with his thick fingers.

“He’s dripping for you already,” Bryan said, drawing a finger through a bead of precum

He held the slick digit out to Chilton, and he extended his tongue to lick your essence off Bryan’s calloused pad. A familiar taste flooded his mouth.

“I missed the way you taste,” he moaned.

It had been too long since he sampled your arousal, and it pooled like heat in his stomach. Bryan’s breath shuddered at the sensation, or perhaps the monstrous sight of a tongue probing forth from bared teeth.

Finally, the thick, round head of Bryan’s cock was notched against your prepared opening. Fisting the base of his cock, he circled it lightly over your puckered ring, listening to the breathy whimpers it elicited.

“Take a deep breath, my love,” Chilton said. He held your eyes, steadying you with his gaze. “And let it out slowly.”

He nodded to Bryan, who rocked his pelvis forward little by little, stretching you open around his impossible girth. You gritted your teeth and tried to relax under the invasion, but it was no longer Chilton using Bryan to fuck you—Bryan was so much bigger than Frederick ever was, the illusion was shattered in that moment. No plug could prepare you for this. You wanted to squeeze Frederick’s fragile hand, but with the intense burn you were feeling, it might have shattered like glass.

“Shh. There you are. Good boy,” Frederick whispered, and even though you weren’t touching, it was like he was helping you. That soothing, soft, carefully-spoken voice caressed your ears. You felt your lower body relax, the muscles opening up for Bryan, allowing him to penetrate deeper, deeper. “You are doing so well for me.”

Your body surrendered with a heave of breath, allowing Bryan to slide in all the way until his balls were pressed against your ass. You were so full, it frightened you to move. Frederick saw how wide and wild your eyes were, the tremble in your limbs as you gripped the rail, and told Bryan not to move.

“Let him get used to you.” He added regretfully, “It has been a long time for both of us.”

“I’m never in a rush,” Bryan said. A powerful hand gently stroked the side of your face as he waited, stock-still with his cock buried inside you.

Slowly, you experimented with moving your hips. Grinding against him just slightly, you felt the way he filled your walls, stretched your entrance as he slid in the lubricant. It was so hot, so impossibly hard, but it made blood rush between your legs, your cock throbbing to be touched.

“F-Frederick… please, make him touch me,” you whimpered.

There was a flash of jealousy in his good eye for a fraction of a second. He wondered why you didn’t beg him to touch you, even though he knew he couldn’t. You might be able to ride his hand and let his fingers haphazardly twitch over your flesh, but he could never reach your cock from here.

At Chilton’s command, Bryan began stroking your heat, and soon your moans filled the sterile hospital room, drowning out the background hum of medical equipment. He guided Bryan in exactly how you liked to be touched, sharing the secrets of your body. Your lower half was on fire, screaming out for more until you were impaling yourself on Bryan’s length, hips bucking, indifferent to the pain.

Then Bryan began thrusting.

Chilton’s breath was heavy as he watched your chest heaving above him—bent over the edge of the bed so you were hovering above his face, giving him the perfect view as you were fucked brainless. Each swing of Bryan’s hips rocked you forward, your jaw slack, skin misted with a sheen of sweat.

His arms were too weak to reach up and touch you or to stroke his own cock, but he whispered words of encouragement that made your skin flush. “Good boy. You take his cock so well. That’s it… A touch faster,” he ordered, and the slap of Bryan’s skin against your ass quickened. You gurgled out a strangled moan as his cock hit a deeper spot.

“Good. Give him more. He can take it. Do you want more, dear?”

You closed your eyes as you nodded, throat too tight to form more than a strangled growl. It was almost too much—almost. But you wanted to take more for him. You wanted him to see you at your limit with Bryan rutting into you like a beast. Bryan stopped stroking your cock and fixed both hands to your hips like a vice, fingers bruising your flesh as he fucked you harder, drawing a cry with each brutal thrust.

Chilton’s cock stirred between his narrow thighs, envious of the pleasure just out of his reach.

“Kiss me,” he rasped.

You leaned over the railing and kissed his neck first, sloppy and unfocused, lavishing affection all over his skin. Down the side of his neck, over part of his shoulder exposed by the loose-fitting hospital gown, then up his jaw, your panting lips and tongue left a trail of saliva wherever they traveled.

Finally, he gasped softly as you found his toothy, exposed mouth. Your lips became its protection, replacing what was lost. He thought he would be scared—that insecurity and disturbing memories would surge to the surface—but for a beautiful moment in time, he was whole again. He had lips, and they were warm, and soft, and everything he missed. Then your tongue was exploring the smooth surface of his teeth, and his hungry tongue licked up to consume your muffled cries, inviting your sweetness deeper inside.

“Harder,” he groaned.

Your hand snaked around the back of his scorched-bald head and pulled him deeper against your mouth. Bryan obeyed the command, too, pounding you against the side of the bed until its locked wheels dragged scuff marks into the floor, and you were so breathless you almost collapsed on top of his fragile body.

Frederick’s mouth captured your wailing moans as Bryan’s massive cock nudged against a place impossibly far inside you. And suddenly, you were breaking—ropes of cum ruining the sheets, your ass spasming around Bryan’s cock. It hit you so fast, you were practically drooling into Frederick’s mouth, melting as he kissed you through your release. When you parted, a string of saliva connected your tongues. Bryan’s cock was still buried deep in your ass, but he paused to let the two of you catch your breath.

“Keep going,” Frederick nodded to him, and he thrust again.

An inhuman noise choked out of your lungs, your body exploding with overstimulation. Stuffed to its limit, and you wanted more. Frederick wanted more, too. He wanted to be more than a spectator, trapped inside a broken body.

Your searching hand groped low on the blanket until it found a satisfyingly hard bulge buried between Frederick’s legs. You lightly squeezed around it, and he gasped out.

“I want to suck your cock,” you moaned, voice thick with need.

He froze, both eyes wide, the green seemingly as blind as the pale blue one in its scarred socket. You were already throwing back the thin blanket. A tent strained in the center of his hospital gown.

“Please let me suck it?”

“I… There is a…” he hesitated. He wanted it so badly, but fear held him back. Mortification merged with lust in his face, the inflamed pink scar tissue nearly beet red.

You shifted to the foot of the bed and gently grasped his ankles, spreading his legs wide enough for you to crawl onto your belly between them. Bryan followed with you, slipping his cock back inside you, his legs pressed up against the edge of the bed, nested between yours. He smirked down at Frederick, giving a few lazy thrusts.

Frederick glanced between you and Bryan, then back to you, your lips so close to his touch-starved erection. Watching you get fucked turned him on, and he was desperate to feel your mouth, but he did not want Bryan to see it… what was beneath the gown.

You had been by his side since he was admitted, witnessing every embarassing medical treatment he endured. But how would Bryan react?

The nervous stammering Frederick gave as you lay between his thighs wasn’t a no, and you had a safeword if he needed to stop, but it wasn’t an enthusiastic yes, either. Considering the circumstances, you didn’t proceed any further, just rested there, searching his eyes with a gentle expression as Bryan smoothly rolled his hips in a holding pattern.

Somehow your willingness to wait made him feel safer. He was in control, Frederick reminded himself. Bryan was just his puppet today. What did it matter if he was disgusted?

“Suck it, then.” His voice was sure. Aloof, even. But it trembled with emotion churning just below the surface.

You pulled the medical gown up over his hips.

And there was his cock, standing partly erect, with all its rosy mesh texture. In a few months or years, the graft texture was supposed to fade into smooth skin, indistinguishable from the original, but right now, it looked like a fishing net of flesh had been pulled over it and sewn with a zig-zagging seam down the underside.

From the center of its tip snaked a long yellow catheter, the other end feeding into a urine collection bag strapped to his thigh like a gun holster.

You circled the meeting of the tube and his cock with your finger. He hissed, and it twitched. You pulled away and glanced up to his face. His jaw was hanging open, but with no lips or eyebrows, it was difficult to assess whether it was slack with lust or open in a silent scream.

“Did that hurt?”

“N-no. Oh god,” he groaned. His fingers dug into the sheets. They could not grip tightly, but his body shuddered with the attempt.

Frederick instructed you on how to take the catheter out. You had seen it inserted and vaguely understood the process, but fortunately, he had a medical degree and academic knowledge of the procedure (if not as much practice as a nurse).

“That syringe there will do,” he gestured with his chin and signaled when you found the right one.

Bryan pulled out and patiently assisted the scavenger hunt, though he was averting his eyes from the reconstructed thing between Frederick’s legs. It did not make Frederick feel appealing, but at least it was better than a sarcastic remark. Even a half-joking “you look like shit” comment would have made him crumble, and perhaps Bryan was skilled enough at exploiting vulnerabilities to recognize that.

“And bring the kidney dish. Yes, that one.”

After disposing of the half-full plastic bladder of warm yellow liquid, you brought the supplies over to the bed and sprawled back out between his legs. Bryan stood nervously behind you, kneading your ass cheeks in his large palms.

“There is a small inflated balloon holding the catheter inside my bladder, so it cannot slip out. You will need to deflate it first.”

“A balloon?” You tilted your head curiously. “How does it feel?”

Taking the end of the yellow rubber tube in your fingers, you gently pulled until you felt resistance, the tiny inflated ball pressed against the wall of his bladder at the entrance of the urethra. You twisted it slowly, rubbing the ball against the internal opening.

Frederick’s back wanted to arch, but he was helplessly immobile in his body, completely at the mercy of whatever you chose to do. He realized in that moment how vulnerable he truly was—that you could do anything, and he couldn’t escape or resist. He gasped out, but not in pain.

“You like that?”

His breath stuttered, but he couldn’t quite form a response. He didn’t know if he liked it. It felt strange. Not unpleasant. He felt full. On the threshold of torture, but something was thrilling about it—electricity sparked and built deep inside as you kept moving it.

You were barely touching the catheter anymore, only holding the end as you searched for the balloon port, but each tiny vibration made him whine softly.

“The orange cap. Use the… s-syringe… to… drain the…”

By the time you drained a few milliliters of water into the syringe, he was moaning loudly, incoherent.

Now when you pulled, there was no resistance to the tube sliding out. As you started to remove it, the deflated balloon passed over his prostate. You recognized it by the familiar whimper—the same stuttery, breathy cry he gave when you fingered him and found just the right spot. You stopped pulling and let it slide back in a little.

He choked, panting and begging, “P-please… please!” but wouldn’t tell you please what? Stop? Faster? More? Don’t?

In truth, he did not know. It burned, but it felt like stroking the shaft of his cock from the inside. It was humiliating—urine dripped from the end of the tube. He had no control over it. He felt so alive. So wanted for the first time in months of lying in that bed. The way your eyes lit up, your lips quirking at his every trembling breath. The way you whispered, “Easy. You’ve got this. Almost there.”

He was on the verge of coming when you pulled it the rest of the way out and set it aside in the tray. You gripped his cock firmly but gently, tilting it up to show Frederick the tip.

“Look at that. Your cock is gaping open like your asshole when Bryan fucks you,” you smirked. A bit of that rough, teasing quality entered your voice—an echo of the way you and Bryan used to use Frederick like your personal sex toy.

But you were going to be gentle today.

Extending your tongue, you laved over the head of his cock, soothing the stretched hole. Then all at once, your warm, wet mouth sank over his entire length, and he let out a shattered wail that was heard through the hospital wing.

Frederick went absolutely brain dead at that moment. His entire existence floated in a shimmering void with no up or down, no gravity. There was nothing but dizzying pleasure consuming his senses. Going without sex—and until recently, without touch—for so long made every sensation more intense than seemed possible. Your head bobbed up and down in his lap, lips wrapped around his cock, and waves of volcanic heat exploded up his vertebrae with each stroke. He still could not arch his back, jerk his hips into your mouth, or writhe beneath you. All of that frustrated kinetic energy came out in uncontrolled vocalizations. The nurses must have been bribed well to not come running at the hoarse, fevered cries.

His cock felt like a cock again, not some pathetic thing discarded after surgery. He couldn’t wait to come down your throat.

He almost didn’t notice Bryan was still standing there watching, obediently waiting.

“Fuck him,” Frederick managed to hiss.

A small pink smile flashed across Bryan’s lips as he nodded and leaned over you.

Your throaty groan vibrated around Frederick’s cock as Bryan pushed forward, gripping your ass to hold you still as he split you open again. He didn’t wait for you to adjust this time, doing just what Frederick had asked—he fucked you. Skin slapping skin echoed through the small room as you choked on Frederick’s cock, powerful thrusts pushing you forward and down.

Bryan sharpened your focus. You had started with your tongue languidly exploring the underside of his cock, flicking over the sensitive area beneath the crest of its head. Warm wetness traced along scars where stitches had been removed and the flesh was still raised, making his skin erupt in tingles. Now, you hollowed your cheeks and held on for the ride.

Continuous moans tore from Frederick’s throat, louder as you drove him toward his climax. He wanted to really fuck your mouth, control your pace, but he couldn’t even lift his arms.

As if reading his mind, Bryan’s large, veined hand ran down the length of your spine and settled possessively on the back of your neck. His eyes met Frederick’s, bushy grey brows raised in question.

The corner of Chilton’s mouth quirked—a tug of his cheek—and he nodded. “Yes… faster. Make him go faster.”

Bryan’s fingers snarled into your hair and pushed you down onto Frederick’s cock, then dragged you back up and shoved you down again. Frederick sighed in relief as you gagged on the head striking the back of your throat. He pretended it was his hand controlling you—savored the tears streaming from your eyes, the drool smearing your lips and pooling around the base of his cock. Most of all, he relished how willingly you took him—let him abuse your mouth for his pleasure. You were so eager.

Sensing that Frederick’s mind was gone on that last, desperate stretch toward release, Bryan took charge, setting a punishing pace as he fucked you harder and faster in time with the rhythm he was pumping your head. Bryan was a bit skeptical at first, but listening to you gag, he wished he could have a turn sucking Frederick off. But it was almost as good using your mouth like a masturbation sleeve to jerk him off.

“Take his cock like a good boy. Nice and sloppy,” Bryan growled. “Make him come, and don’t spill a drop. You swallow it all.”

Frederick moaned again. He was so close. Heat coiled in his lower body; his balls felt so heavy and tight, ready to burst.

Each time Bryan pulled you back, your tongue did this perfect little swirl, sometimes over the tip or under the crown of his cock. A sinful flourish before his heavy hand impaled your throat on Frederick’s throbbing length. He wouldn’t last much longer at this rate. Looking down at the both of you—Bryan’s face drawn in effort, sweating, and you beneath him, cheeks hollowed as your nose met Frederick’s scarred-bare pubic mound—he couldn’t help think he didn’t deserve you. Either of you. So devoted to him in his time of need. A maddening heat rose under his abdomen. He was going to… going to—

“C-come inside him. Come in his ass,” Frederick choked out. Saliva ran down his chin wantonly without lips to collect it. His eyes were barely open and rolling back in his head.

Bryan’s breathing grew erratic and turned to audible grunts as he chased his pleasure in your tight little hole. There was no restraint now—he mercilessly abused your ass and your mouth, creating a symphony of Chilton’s cries and your choked gagging. He wasn’t sure if you could take it—usually, it was Chilton he treated this way—but your walls were gripping around him, eagerly pleasuring his cock while your hips pushed back into his thrusts. You were just as needy a cockslut as your boyfriend.

The antiseptic air seemed to still for a moment, like the perfect silence that precedes a thunderclap. Bryan’s rutting hips hitched, then came crashing back down, sheathed to the hilt inside you as he sheathed your throat around Frederick, and in an instant, you were filled with hot cum from both ends. Frederick gave the small whimpering cries of a dying animal as his bitter release coated your tongue, salty, coppery, and thick. Bryan’s roar was that of an apex predator, your inner walls flooding with his seed.

A euphoric feeling settled over you. The feeling of being claimed, totally and completely, surrounded by two men you loved and trusted, knowing you brought them satisfaction.

You sucked Frederick through each twitching aftershock until there was nothing left to be milked from him, and his cries turned to uncomfortable sobs. Only then did your lips release him, shiny and red, and already softening.

Bryan, on the other hand, was hard as steel when he pulled out of you, and knowing his quick recovery time, ready to go again if need be. But that wouldn’t be advisable, considering the hospital staff would only look the other way for so long.

You quickly pulled your underwear back on, cringing at the squishy feeling of Bryan’s dripping cum being pressed into your skin. After returning Frederick’s legs to their usual closed position, you carefully crawled onto the edge of the mattress, avoiding the paths of tubes and wires attached to him, and gently cradled his prone body.

His breath was steadying, and his eyes were watery with emotion, coming down hard from his high. You surreptitiously brushed a tear away with your thumb. He wouldn’t want you to notice he was crying, but it would be worse if Bryan saw. So you held him, whispering soothing praises, and helped him calm down while Bryan cleaned himself up and made sure there were no stray fluids on the floor.

Then Bryan stood, once again unsure.

Where did he fit, with the bed too narrow for two people to cuddle on, much less three? Did he even want to join? Hospitals reminded him of death, and Frederick’s cadaverous figure made it worse. Fucking you with him was fun, but it felt like a last request—a favor for a dying man. Though as he understood it, Frederick had already beaten the odds and was going to survive, barring complications. But it still made him shudder.

He watched you smiling at him, gently whispering comfort with your arm so carefully draped around him, and watched his mutilated mouth try to smile back. Your eyes were transfixed on each other. Another pang throbbed through Bryan’s heart. He wanted to be part of that.

He took a step forward.

What if Frederick didn’t want him to be part of his lovey-dovey snuggle? It was stupid. Bryan was only here to fuck, anyway. It was what he was good at. Bryan Kneef didn’t do clingy emotional bullshit, and this was way too fucking Hallmark right now.

He took a step toward the door. It was roughly in the same direction. The last thing Bryan Kneef wanted was to appear indecisive.

But before he could pass the foot of the bed and lock his trajectory toward leaving, Frederick’s eyes shot open and froze him. He repressed another shudder, still freaked out by his ghostly blue eye.

“Thank you,” he said. His face was unreadable (there were not enough features left to read), but his voice had a hopeful edge.

“My pleasure.” A surprisingly uncomplicated reply. It didn’t seem the time for tacky vulgarity.

You looked up at him, too, and the combined forces of your puppy-dog gazes broke his resolve. He pivoted away from the door and pulled up a chair beside the bed so he could lean close, resting his head against your warm shoulder and gently stroking Frederick’s withered arm.

Frederick hummed contentedly at the contact, and he let out a long breath he didn’t realize he had been holding.

• ● • ━━━━━─ ••●•• ─━━━━━ • ● •

Tags: @beccabarba / @itsjustmyfantasyroom / @thatesqcrush / @dianilaws / @permanentlydizzy / @mrsrafaelbarba / @madamsnape921 / @astrangegirlsmind / @neely1177 / @onerestein / @dreamlover31 / @isvvc-pvscvl / @shroomiehomie / @storiesofsvu / @welcometothemxdhouse / @feedthemadness-sweetie / @law-nerd105 / @amelia-song-pond / @michael-rooker / @xecq / @madpanda75 / @alwaysachorusgirl / @bananas-pajamas / @leanor-min / @mad-girl-without-a-box / @katierpblogg / @worldofvixen / @sassyada / @detectivebarba

#Frederick Chilton x reader #bryan kneef x reader #Frederick Chilton x Bryan Kneef x Reader #male reader #thatesqcrushsummerbingo #my writing

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lordxgrinnyxboy · 4 years

Text

watching london tgm! pt 2!

they actually carry clarence in in his coffin????

Kupsak sounds Different

OOOOOOOOOOH THAT WAS OSRIC’S VOICE THAT DID THE “Will our land at last be free” LIKE THE LINGERING ECHOES OF THE TRELAW SPIRIT. NICE.

the voice he used leaves me with no doubt he could’ve been another amazing Gwynplaine.

“Get out” WAS OSRIC LITERALLY THERE DID OSRIC STRAIGHT UP GO BUST A FUNERAL

OOOOH IT’S THE TRELAW REBELLION NOW. SPECIFICALLY THE TRELAW REBELLION. THE REBELLION BELONGING TO TRELAW.

for just a second i was living in a world without Barkilphedro but there he is, man, there he is. i was surprised to see him.

ooooh. oooooh “Angelica has not emerged from her chambers for almost exactly 20 years, during which time, she has not uttered a single word” WHAT?

DON’T SEND SPIKE TO GO GET HER WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU

off topic but getting back to the previous post if the “father she’ll never see” was part of the inscription and Ursus gave it to her then he’d know about it so it can’t be that did the MOM get her a necklace that said she’d never see her father??? was the mom like “ope we gotta pack up and sail away without your dad but lemme get you a cool trinket first” or was there no inscription and Ursus is just assuming that it was the dad who gave her the necklace but it was actually the mom and the mom got a necklace for Dea without telling Ursus but hold up aren’t they poor? wouldn’t somebody have known? do they have separate bank accounts? did the mom say “well I got our unborn child a present but it’s a surprise you’ll find out later” why a necklace that says “dea”? did the mom name her without consulting Ursus? how’d she know wh-? was she going to name the baby ‘Goddess’ regardless of gender? (valid?) was she asking a goddess to protect the baby??? did she have the baby, immediately go get her a little trinket, and then freeze to death? was ‘Dea’ a deliberate move or was it just the last name trinket in the shop? Were all the “Makynzeiye” necklaces taken? I Have Questions About This Necklace

anyway

the other version always makes me feel almost like Barkilphedro murdered the king himself. i don’t get that so much in this one but i do get the impression he Knows What He’s Doing with this speech and is Doing It On Purpose. Having A Good Time, as it were.

angelica????

oh my

“SWWIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINE” uhm

b-bird noises?

ooh she’s actually. calling out the corruption of her father. good girl angelica.

“I will make this country great again” did they. have. to say that. did they have to. was it necessary. why make me think about that man. why do that to me. london has no rights u-u

wHAT we’re back in the cart? No JoJo?

london gets rights for the fact that Gwyn’s crouching. that is a very good crouch sir, perfect.

“with mojo and father...GAH” oh gwyn :(

that hit him so hard so sudden like :(

FIDDLIN WITH THE BANDAGES IS CANOOOOON IT’S CANOOOOOOOON I AM VALID! I’M VALID! I KNEW IT! I THOUGHT SO! YES. YES. WOOHOO

gwyn your arm

the drama of that dismount. the delicate self-yeet. incredible.

WHY IN HEAVEN’S NAME IS YOUR SHIRT TUCKED IN YOU STOP THAT THIS INSTANT

“please help me find” gwyn what is she supposed to do, google it?

CROUCH

oh here we go

that was terrifying jojo

jojo that was terrifying

the dance is. worse.

pleeeease no please no please no pl

where did she get that

i am scared for my life rn

JOJO STOP

ohhh i’m dreading Brand New World. can’t believe i’m gonna have to watch Gwynplaine Trelaw literally be killed for sport. she’s gonna snap him like a twig 😭

JOJO I AM BEGGING YOU TO PUT THAT DOWN

i am so scared of this jojo i am so

oh JOJO’S gonna offer to make the scuttling dream a reality???

book canon right there

😱😬😭

in this one she literally warns david personally to his face he’s got no excuse let’s go david wygd

but sure let’s go to the fair

i don’t hate this david but he’s like the mellow, zero-energy edition.

he bouncin

he’s turned into a starfish???

i hate Bristol!Jojo’s costume so bad but dang if i haven’t gotten used to it and now this one’s a little weird

i’m not strong enough tbh

dirry-moir just crouched and i’m gonna have to sue for copywrighte on gwynplaine’s behalf. i’ve apparently lost my ability to spell

idk man these people are just incredibly scary

oh thank goodness that part’s over

london!gwyn looks like a hobbit that’s been stretched out. like a screenshot of Mr. Elijah Wood in Unexpected Journey, but it’s been pasted into MS Paint and then stretched out a bit and then squished down and stretched out again and somehow pasted back into the movie.

i am genuinely so grateful we get another cart scene. i need time to recover from never seen a face.

the dynamic feels different in this version

awww the shoulder pat :3

this Gwyn is a whole other person. he’s both Calmer and More Wound Up. at the same time.

😭 he just 😭 literally choked 😭 i can’t 😭 he just fell right over 😭 wilted like a flower 😭 howm i supposed to cope with this 😭

Don’t pat him so hard Ursus for pity’s sake DX

aw we’re not doing Born Broken in front of an audience this time? rights are evaporating.

is Gwyn even alive rn i think he straight up died

did he take the medicine yet?

Ursus are u touching his face?

HE’S HAVING A WHOLE SEIZURE

What Was That Move

i have lost my ability to exhale

i think Gwyn’s doing a physical impersonation of a fish being mercilessly dragged from a lake by a grappling hook thrown from a moving speedboat

i do like how Ursus crouches down to their level while they’re on the ground

love how Mojo looks over like “are y’all seeing this”

LOOK AT THE SMILE OF YOUR MOTHERL

THAT’S WHY URSUS FREAKIN SNAPS

Ursus is holding Gwyn by the wrist and just shaking his arm as punctuation like “I CANT tell you ANYthing you DON’t already KNOW” URSUS STOP

GWYN TRIED TO PULL AWAY AND URSUS YANKED GWYN’S ARM

URSUS YOU HAVE NO RIGHTS

i mean i always thought the near hysteria was valid and acceptable but you know what Gwyn is MORE than allowed the “NOOO NOT TODAY” line. he can HAVE IT. understandable. he did nothing wrong.

someone’s drinking a beer

i’m sorry but the way he just climbed through that curtain was hilarious

it’s too calm. mr. maskell you’ve got three seconds to lose your damn mind and go absolutely OFF

BOING BOING BOING BOING BOING

CLAP

twinge

this one doesn’t have enough hysteria but it gets points for being even more boneless

lost an elbow again

here we go his brain’s going AGSHAFUIABNAVSBKJAG AGFYAIAFIguAI here we go it’s happening i can see the sparks

MR MASKELL PLEASE

GWYN YOUR ARMS

YOUR SPIN GWYN

that right there was what medical professionals commonly diagnose as a Religious Experience.

his pantlegs are even shorter in this version

OH HE JUST YANKS THE BANDAID RIGHT OFF.

jojo please

hangon i gotta go back and see him in Zero Bones mode one more time that was actually so personal

i must say that rewind was Flawless. without even looking i took it back exactly to him coming through the curtain. at myself goodjob man

i would like to formally apologize to myself for just having the “talent show au” thought. stop that.

WIGGLY FINGERS ON “WALKS IN THE NIGHT”

can’t believe i’m in love with an overcooked linguini noodle

he is So Floppy it genuinely hurts to even look at and honestly i love that for me. I’m living. i’m about to watch this scene a third time in a row see if i don’t

it really is a little low on the sheer manic vibe but at the same time it kinda has the energy of if you climbed into the washing machine or maybe dryer while the appliance is on? or if you got in the washing machine but you brought a toaster with you. and threw your phone in separate.

another perfect rewind let’s go I’M THE STUUUUUUUFF OF YOUR NIGHTMARES WAS I

his voice sounds like it’s coming from a vintage record player and it’s definitely in black and white with a smattering of static and just a slight flavor of tin and honestly i love that for me

Gwyn’s literally one of those old door stoppers you know like the little stick on the bottom of the door and sometimes you pull it all the way to one side and then let go and it’s like FWOBBLEFWOBBLEFWOBBLE and you’re like “OOOOOOH”

JEAN VALJEAN

ARMS UPPPPPPPP GO BACK AND BOIIIIIIIIIIING

LOVE that dude. Amazing.

did he just spit actually? he physically can’t? at least traditionally?

steppy leggies!

one more time and then i’ll move on. just one more.

rewound too far i’m now back at “Ursus If You Don’t Let Go Of That Boy’s Wrist”

come on through that curtain Gwynlit i am Ready for You.

I’M THE STUUUUUUFFFFF OF YOUR NIGHTM

i want this played at my funeral and i want mr. maskell to be there to dance to it

so i guess in this version his limbs just short-circuit at different times huh because i mean genuinely for real his elbows just seem to nope out every now and then

this right here is what mr. hugo meant when he said, if not in as many words, that you were a ten.

ARRRMMMS UP! ANNNND BAAAAAAACK AND

B O U N C E

he has the x factor

love how he just shuffles back through the curtain like that one gif of the yellow dude being absorbed into the bushes

JOJO I LOVE YOUR DRESS WHAT

Dirry-Moir’s voice is nice even if it’s Very Different

fr jojo that’s actually kinda cute

Osric my dear i Love You

and now they’re all dirilious

dilirius

dilirious

dileros

d e l i r i o u s ?

that

Dea and Gwyn just dropped out of the sky

awww mojo came to check on him

Mojo’s nudging at Gwyn’s arm and Gwyn’s Not Having It

Ursus you’re banned from touching him i am Mad At You

Gwyn’s having another attack in this version it is constantly happening. has this boy sipped any sauce yet?

he just stood up and now he’s like

HE’S DOING HAND FLAPS HE’S GOT FLAPPY HANDS HE’S ACTUALLY. WHAT. FLAP FLAP FLAP I LIKE IT I AGreE WITH THIS

ooh he reacts a little bit to “all the other fairground freaks”

FIDDLING WITH THE BANDAGES

Ursus sounds Angery

oh. gwynlit :( he’s cryin :( on “I don’t believe you” :(

😭💀😭💀

these two have PROBLEMS in this version and i am Hurt

he’s doing hand things again

VOCAL THINGS

this is canon now

DEA JUST HELPED HIM WITH THE CRIMSON LETHE

it looked like he was too jittery or something so she puts his hand over his and helps him bring the bottle of crimson lethe up to his mouth

im really just filling up a shopping cart over here

did quake just clock ursus over the head or did someone get shot boy golly that was loud

wait though with the little noise that Gwyn did a second ago, we hear it after the crowd starts doing it but in-universe did they hear him do that at some point and now they’re imitating it 👀

THAT CRISMSON LETHE JUST KNOCKED HIM OUT HE JUST FLOPPED FORWARD AND DEA HAD TO CATCH HIM 📝👀

oh. “The Grinning Man Is Not To Be Disturbed” is because he’s straight up out of it after having the medicine. oh no

Mojo just growled as Gwyn stood up and i heard it wrong and thought there was like a cartoon sound effect like “LOOK HOW FAST HE JUST STOOD UP. WOOSH.” but no it was a growly bark

he held onto Dea’s hand and kind of hopped over to the door that was neat

i’m gonna start holding everything i read Like That

shjshgsj he just held it Like that and Stared before switching to holding it normally and actually opening it

random Itch

her outfit really is cute though i like this costume

“who I aaaaaaaaaam” stop the voice is too good sir

okay but that maneuver really is illegal y’all ought not to have done that

wait wait lemme go back and

i don’t know how i feel about that

one more time lemme check lemme just ch

*phil collins voice* oh lord

there is no reason

gwyn sweetheart you are not strong enough. she will kill you.

i now know what song this reminds me of now and i’m so upset

why do they have the outside of the cart looking like a happy meal box

GWYN WHAT WAS THAT

he just did the squawkiest laugh oml

HOLD UP

“you must see or you’ll never know” “YOU’RE RIGHT! Something is changing! She wants to meet me!” WHAT IS THIS CONVERSATION

HE SOUNDS HAPPY

SHE KNOWS HE’S GOING TO MEET SOMEBODY AND SHE ACTUALLY KISSES HIM LIKE “You must go!” WHAT

boy i know you did not just finger-gun goodbye at the blind girl

he’s walking in place now and i’m crying

she told him he must go now and he took it so literally he left while she was still talking

THE WALKING IN PLACE THOUGH. IT’S IN SLOW MOTION. I AM DISTRAUGHT

did you just wave at someone Gwyn

he’s so doped up

i think he thinks he’s about to get beat

okay in this version he doesn’t Let Osric grab his hand Osric just kind of grabs him and then Gwyn snatches his hand away and Osric’s like “i’ve got a funny feeling in my hand” meanwhile Gwyn puts his hand up and looks at it for a second and shakes down his sleeve and then he’s all hands-on-hips and looking at Osric like >:?

i think he just did the sound with them

and he’s having another attack.

he just fell back and they caught him and one person grabbed his hand and yanked him forward and now they’re picking him up

idk think he knows he’s alive in this version

AJSHFAJGAH THEY’RE DOING HIM LIKE THE PUPPETS IN THE BEAUTY AND THE BEAST DANCE SEQUENCE THEY JUST TOSSED THAT BOY LIKE A FRESHLY-LAUNDERED BEDSHEET

he ain’t well sir

that’s all for now!

#bristol is still immeasurably better but i am having a great time negl #tgm #the grinning man

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kennedycatherine · 3 years

Text

things may be shitty but sometimes I'm shittier

I’m overheard retelling half a joke my friends have heard 30 times over. One of the greats in my rotating stock of five.

“Wait, what’s this about?” Asks someones boyfriend and I lean on an elbow, angle myself toward him with a grin.

“It’s actually a really funny story.”

His girlfriend rolls her eyes, “it’s not funny.”

My eyebrows go up, in, “I think it’s funny?”

“Kennedy,” she begins and looks at me with even eyes, “it makes people uncomfortable.”

She says it like a mother warning her toddler not to pull his pants off in front of the dinner guests, not again. And I feel a lot like he might;

Defiant - it is a funny story, I’ve done the math on which details can stay in, which have to go out, I know where to pause for a laugh or a sigh. He’d probably like it.

Ashamed - it probably isn’t funny to everyone, perhaps my math was just enough to keep people engaged, the pauses great for a sympathy laugh. He probably wouldn’t like it.

“Another time,” he whispers with a soft, consoling smile and I silently curse his girlfriend.

Fuck you, Kierstan, you don’t know the first thing about comedic timing.

The story in question is about the time I found my sister cold and unconscious. I thought she was dead. The punchline about my being in a pink velour costume when the EMT’s arrived and the bit about the stolen laffy taffy, oh and her not being dead - fully worth the undeniable emotional lows.

Believe me when I say that in some circles, it’s a funny story. There are branches of comedy, Netflix specials, peoples entire careers and livelihoods that are rooted in dark comedy - there is a vast market for illuminating and lightening the horrifying. Also trust me when I say I know how deeply unfunny it is to watch someone you love overdose.

The story is funny now. A few years ago it wasn’t. It was a nearly unspeakable thing. An experience that happened and it wasn’t funny.

But life goes on.

You have no choice.

Around the time of the pink velour tracksuit and the laffy taffy, I found myself laughing uncontrollably at my desk. I’d just left the job I’d gone to college for and found myself in the pit of broken dreams - an 8 to 5 desk job. The absolute thrill of it all - somedays you might file, somedays you might answer a few more calls than usual. Somedays your boss might ask you to bend over and pick up his pencil while you wear the skirt it was gently (but firmly) implied was mandatory. Mandatory only in the sense that no one could tell you that you couldn’t wear pants but they sure were more forgiving of car naps running 15 minutes over if they could glimpse a knee.

And boy, did I need the car naps.

It’s funny because I thought I was doing great. Really, for awhile I thought I was the best I’d ever been. I was laughing pretty much all the time, at everything. I’d never found the world more funny. By all accounts, I was having a great time.

So imagine my surprise when one day I found my eyes full, my face damp and my car hurdling down the highway past the exit to my work. When I did arrive, this time with pants, therefor low forgiveness - I was asked to my boss’ office for a closed door meeting.

Why was I late?

Somehow telling my boss that I wasn’t exactly sure the reason but my brain was telling me I should just keep driving, maybe to the next town, maybe for hours, maybe until the border, didn’t really seem like an option. “I think I have the flu.”

Despite all the things I didn’t know, I did know I didn’t have the flu. I found myself laid out in my doctors office anyway.

When he finally threw the door open, all white coated and anxious, just like I like em’ - I sat up. We made a sort of frenzied eye contact and he asked me what was wrong.

“I think I might be, like, totally fucking losing it.”

I left with a plan and antidepressants.

It all sounds kind of simple and quaint.

But it wasn’t.

Stopping to consider if you’re a danger to yourself or anyone else so your doctor can qualify if you need counselling, pills, maybe a psychiatric hold isn’t charming. Those first few weeks of pills, even though you’ve been told and you know you’ll feel worse for awhile, they’re simply awful. This isn’t some beautiful woman on HBO popping a white pill with her chardonnay, suddenly noticing a pink bloom on her neglected cactus. This is ugly and painful before it’s anything else.

And slowly it did become “anything else” … most of the time.

Depression isn’t a joke. But it is a static way of being that loses it’s edge.

It softens. Like a shitty haircut, you come to expect the blunt, harsh edges. Your body adjusts to the sight of it. It’s still kind of scary to look at but you know what to expect.

Life goes on.

It’s just not precious anymore.

I could barely say I’d been diagnosed. I only told the people who were close enough to see the new medication was wearing me out. Now it’s an introductory fact, “Hi, Kennedy Catherine, daughter, lover, lesbian, writer, major depressive disorder.”

I felt for a long time like it was all behind me. The worst was over! Family, outside of some trick hearts, healthy. Depression, diagnosed, plans made, helpful medications on standby. Experiencing another dark episode seemed dull, ya know? Just a tad fucking redundant. Been there, done it, bored by it.

Then: March 2020.

There was a period of limbo. I still had a job, I just couldn’t be there or do it until things got better - hardy har. I packed up my truck and settled into my families cabin for five or six weeks. It was fine, I was fine, I thought. One day I went out for a walk and awhile later watched my sister rumble through a long stretch of prairie toward me on an ATV. My phone was dead and I’d be gone, oh, three hours longer than expected?

“What happened?”

I just kind of… lost track of time? Lost my sense of direction? I don’t know, I thought. I was here but I sort of went away from myself for a second. When I sunk into the bath later with achy muscles and a blister, I felt nervous.

Now, I haven’t scared myself in years. My depression isn’t so severe that I feel unsafe with myself. Anything I did or have done to effectively terrify myself, I shed by the time I was 20. Because that can happen, you can do that. You can change coping mechanisms and learn real, healthy ways to parent yourself. The mood instability that came later, the dark times, I still felt mostly fortified. I felt like I could figure it out, like I still had access to myself to do the figuring out.

But I could feel myself slipping away this time.

I was talking fast about something or another when I finally said to my mom, “I think I might need help.” I wasn’t sure exactly what I meant because I didn’t really know how to help myself and I wasn’t really sure what was wrong.

And that in and of itself is a problem. I didn’t know what was wrong?

I was out of the job that got me out of bed Monday to Friday for three and a half years, I left the house that had become my comfort cathedral, I hadn’t seen any of my closest friends in months, I was living with my sister and my mother who I hadn’t spent longer than a handful of days with in like five years. There was global fear and uncertainty and the risk of contracting a virus that could or could not kill you but I didn’t know… what was wrong? Well that’s just deeply moronic.

Sometimes when you need help, or when I need help, that does come in the form of professional counselling or medications or an anonymous support group. Sometimes, it’s just circumstantial and circumstances can change.

I went home.

And in a few weeks, when I’d more or less returned to myself, I could clearly see the hills and valleys my mind had just wandered. I felt strength again, a sense of renewal and excitement about my imminent return to work and society.

Then I actually lost my job.

I know, redundant. I’m tired of myself too. But bullshit is cyclical, that’s just a fact.

And if there is one thing I’ll give myself credit for, it’s my ability to immediately concoct a backup plan in the face of a threat. Moments after I was officially terminated, texts and emails went out. The idea of not knowing where my next paycheque would come from and how much it would be, having lost the place I strolled into everyday with a sense of purpose and not knowing when and where I’d have that again was simply not an option.

My head went down, I narrowed focus and the efforts resulted in… enough. I’m living. Which wasn’t and isn’t the hope for life. Unstable stagnancy is deeply uncomfortable.

So, generally speaking, things are not great.

I lost my humbly secure job. A place I comfortably could’ve lived and died if I’d prioritized everything other than work and my sort of crippling ambition. This effectively led me down the path of questioning every decision I’ve made past the age of 16. First and foremost, choosing radio. An industry that was at it’s peak in the 1930’s and on the decline ever since was perhaps not the most lucrative or secure of career choices.

My romantic life developed far enough to remind me that often times I am a crusty, avoidant crustacean human and suddenly all those popular tweets about my deep emotional inabilities and intimacy issues seemed, well, not that funny.

I decided I probably shouldn’t drink. I don’t have a drinking problem but I do have a problem with drinking. Namely, waking with no memory, my legs shaking and my stomach clenched so tightly I could sense my body wanted to flee - itself, mostly. And let’s not forget the part where I get fighty and mean.

When shit hit the fan and then shot off the blades into the face of life in my early twenties, it wasn’t my fault. To be clear, mental health is a no fault area. I was always predisposed to depression, mental illness is genetic. I had no control over that. But there were plenty of variables, extenuating circumstances if you will, that I also had no control over but sure as fuck could and did blame other people for.

This is not the same thing.

This is a moment where it is necessary to discern illness from circumstance and living from coping.

Like I said, bullshit is cyclical. And it this point, it’s pretty much just my own bullshit on repeat, forever and ever amen. At twenty or twenty three, when the circumstances weren’t my fault, it also felt like my reactions weren’t my fault. I was floundering, I didn’t know better. I learned some hard lessons about how I cope and handle things. I learned that I didn’t really like the person I was when I was figuring out how to survive myself and life.

I was unkind, a lot.

I hated the way that felt, I hated the way it affected my relationships and decided to learn from it.

Except, I didn’t learn. I said, great, noted. Dashed a nice little ~fini!~ at the end of that chapter, closed er’ on up and bypassed the bookshelf for the dusty box in the corner labelled, “garage sale.” Because surely no one would need to read that again!

And then a few weeks ago when I had a breakthrough in counselling, I dug that chapter back up and allowed myself a few days of surprise. Bitch, you been done knew the WHOLE time. This isn’t news, this isn’t shocking. This is the part of you that developed somewhere along the way and it didn’t work and you didn’t like it but! But. It was comfortable. So you gave it a few years and then when things fell out of control again, let it settle back in all warm and snuggly.

You know what they say. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, I guess I need to financially prioritize a CBT therapist.

So here I am, again.

Only this time feels deeply, deeply different. Because it’s not the first.

I sat down with a friend to tell her how I was feeling. How much I felt like I needed and wanted to change my default settings.

I need a factory restore.

“I think you’re being hard on yourself.”

No, no, I have grace for myself! I actually have a lot of understanding. I’m parenting myself through this which includes showing myself love while I also discipline.

“I just feel like maybe you were doing the best you knew how.”

Well, I mean, sure? Sometimes? But there were moments where I knew I was saying or doing the wrong thing, where I was even challenged by someone else but I wasn’t challenging myself, you know?

“Well maybe that’s just who you are?”

Right… but this is also who I am? And we do actually have a say in that, you know? Like how I evolved from throwing toddler tantrums on the grocery store floor? I could actually just keep doing that, no one is stopping me, but I don’t.

“I think you’re being self deprecating and that is not healthy.”

Since when is self identifying a problem self deprecation?

“Oh, don’t be so hard on yourself.”

… but change is hard?

I appreciate that people want to protect me from myself or from bad feeling or whatever they perceive that all to be. More often than not, I think they, we, you, I, we’re all just trying to protect ourselves. But it’s not helpful. Pretending that everything is fine and that we’re fine and adopting an overarching, “I am perfect as I am, namas-fucking-te” mantra isn’t actually helpful.

What’s the harm in me saying I have been shitty? That I have acted poorly? That I have neglected to be better when there was clearly a different option? That I wasn’t honestly showing myself to people when I could’ve or allowing them space in me?

That it’s… not nice? That just like the joke about my sister not being dead, it’s not comfortable to listen to? It’s true and it is compassionate to view yourself as a whole, to know yourself and think I actually do like myself and this life enough to want to be better.

Just like what is coined the unfortunate evening of Velour and Ambulances or the depression diagnosis or life being turned on it’s head by a plague sent from hell, once it was deeply painful and then it wasn’t. None of this is precious. Being a shitty person sometimes isn’t a rare affliction. You’ve been shitty before, you’ll do it again, I’ll do it again, hey, you might even be shitty right now! Isn’t that something?

Things are not great right now. They’ve been not great tens of times before. Only this time it isn’t taking me 2 to 4 years to talk and laugh about it. Because this is a muscle, the shit muscle and it’s exercised. It’s buff.

And you know what? Things could be worse. They could even get worse now! I’m hoping they don’t but they certainly could, and in the thick of it, we’ll always have that glimmering possibility to hold onto.

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misssophiachase · 4 years

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Reality Bites - Chapter 4: Gimme Shelter

Synopsis: Caroline is the long-suffering producer on America's number one reality television program Meet the Mikaelsons. The wealthy, English family are difficult but Caroline has to stick it out so she can get the promotion she's been eyeing. Enter arrogant, second-eldest sibling Klaus Mikaelson who has every intention of messing with her plans.

Playa Palmilla, San Jose del Cabo

"Oh, come on, love, don't be like this. I'll let you pick which bedroom you want?" He offered by way of an olive branch as they collected their bags from the trunk of the cab.

Yes, maybe he felt a little bad. What with crashing her flight and cancelling her accommodation and then insisting she stay with him. Klaus decided it sounded a lot worse than it actually was. He told himself before the flight that it made perfect sense for them to fly and stay together but upon further reflection, and her outraged reaction, he was starting to get a complex.

Yes, Klaus Mikaelson usually got his way, not because he insisted upon it but because ever since he could remember that was just the way things were. Of course, coming from a famous, wealthy and powerful family dynasty that was expected and it had just become second nature to Klaus.

Until Caroline Forbes breezed into his life.

Rather than feeling put out by her adverse reaction, Klaus reveled in it. He was so used to people doing and saying the right thing around him, but Caroline Forbes had absolutely no filter and wasn't ashamed to tell him when he was being an ass, as she liked to put it. Judging by how frequently she did it, Klaus really should have learned his lesson but, when it came to her, he was greedy for more.

Caroline didn't bother to respond or wait for him, just powered off bags in hand to the private villa on Palmilla Beach they'd booked for the week. Klaus was trying to ignore just how good she looked in that floral dress with her blonde hair hanging loose around her shoulders in soft waves. Although, Klaus was beginning to realize that was just her default setting.

She opened the door ahead of him and stepped into the open plan living area. He'd be shocked if she found a problem given the picturesque views from the floor to ceiling windows, simple but modern furniture and its spacious and airy feel.

"Well, that's the least you could do," she growled, finally responding. "I want the one with the biggest bathroom."

"I think you'll find there's only one joint bathroom between the rooms," he explained. She walked over to inspect the layout and noticed the interconnecting doors from both bedrooms to the bathroom.

"Unbelievable!" She muttered. "I can't share a bathroom with you, I mean what if I'm in there and you walk in on me in the shower?"

"Well, you could just as easily walk in on me, love," he winked teasingly. He could tell she wanted to bite about that particular endearment but she obviously thought there were more important battles to win today.

"You do realize that if I still had my original booking I wouldn't have to share at all?"

"You do realize that your original room is a shoebox compared to this, right?"

"Yes, but it was my shoebox," she insisted, her blue eyes blazing angrily. "One that apparently wouldn't be available any longer because it's peak season, except your assistant managed to find both Kat and Bonnie rooms at short notice."

"Well, when you're a Mikaelson…"

"Yes, life is so easy when you're a freaking, Mikaelson," she shot back, and Klaus couldn't miss the venom in her voice. It felt almost like a slap in the face. Why did she hate him and his family so much? Being a producer of their reality show would be a good start but Klaus knew there was more to it. She marched towards one of the bedrooms before he could properly respond.

"I take it I've got the other bedroom then," he assumed, placing his bags on the bed.

"Why can't my friends just stay here?" She asked, appearing again, hands on hips. "There's plenty of room. We could have a sleepover and paint each other's nails and then have a pillow fight in our underwear."

"You seriously do that?" He was joking but it didn't stop her from rolling her eyes in his direction.

"We both know the rules about fraternization amongst the crew and the ban against friends visiting the set. In fact, a little birdie told me you actually came up with those," he replied, taking a seat on his bed and patting the spot next to him.

"Trust me, Elijah will be thanking me for that rule," she replied mysteriously, making him curious about exactly what that meant. "And I am not sitting there. It's already bad enough we are staying together, I mean it's hardly professional given the aforementioned rules."

"We are co-producers, if the rest of the crew has a problem, they can speak to me about the accommodation arrangements."

"The crew I'm fine with given they're my rules and I'm also their boss, it's your brother. He sent me a text with a childhood taunt about us K-I-S-S-I-N-G in a tree accompanied by multiple, kissy-face emojis."

Hearing her say that, Klaus immediately felt a stab of something right in his chest, he decided to blame it on the interesting food they served in Coach. They'd briefly run into his family outside the airport but he'd happily ditched their too-close-for-comfort limousine for a cab with Caroline.

"Please tell me you're talking about Henrik?"

"Do you really think Henrik would do that? He may only be sixteen but the kid is one of the most mature teenagers I know and given the circus he's growing up in that is impressive." Klaus immediately felt pleased that she thought as highly of her little brother as he did. But back to his younger, more wayward brother.

"Wishful thinking on my part, I guess. How exactly does Kol have your cell number? I remember it took me at least a month to procure that."

"He asked," she replied, shrugging her shoulders lazily. "I thought it would be rude not to oblige."

"Unbelievable," he growled. "What else does he send you?"

"Wouldn't you like to know. I'm his producer and he's one of the cast," she explained. "It would be unprofessional of me to divulge those details."

"Why are you so hard on me?" The question was out of his mouth before he could stop it. It was something he'd been wondering for the longest time but never had the courage to ask. Klaus knew he could be difficult and a little arrogant at times (he blamed his upbringing for that particular trait) but when it came to his family, he was the least of her troubles.

"I'm not," she murmured, although her indecisive tone was telling Klaus she was lying. "But you definitely give me more grief."

"I give you grief? You do realize I have immature Kol and spoilt Rebekah as siblings, right?" He shot back. "I'm no trouble at all, in fact, not only have I lightened the workload with the producer duties, but I also suggested this little trip so we can rate the pants off the competition. I mean who wants to watch five conceited brunettes whose names start with the same letter shop?"

"Plenty of people but I'm not going into our competition with you again. However, I need to correct you on a few of those outrageous claims, Mikaelson," she argued stomping on the spot briefly. Klaus had discovered that's what she did when she was trying to make a point. "Number one, you stole half my job without asking, I might add. I never gave it to you and I was handling the workload just fine. Number two, I still maintain that you brought the entire team down to Mexico to hook up with your ex and ogle other women on the side." He stood up to interrupt before she held up her finger to stop him. "Yes, I said ogle. And number three, I'm going to go shower now for dinner with my friends before I say something else I might regret."

"Wow, so much restraint, Forbes," he scoffed sarcastically and moved closer, the distance between them not so far anymore. "Number one, I didn't steal, I asked for the producer job and number two sounds like someone is very jealous about who I do and do not ogle."

"Oh, you are way off-base, mister," she huffed, poking him in the chest accusingly. "I could care less what or who you do, I'm just stating a fact. Although, please refrain from doing it so close to my bedroom."

"Well, I'm sure you can ask the set medic to keep you warm at night if you feel left out, sweetheart." It just came out, and he immediately regretted it. Klaus was starting to realize she had that effect on him but she didn't retreat and neither did he, their gazes held, heated and intense.

He'd be lying if Doctor Wonderful hadn't taken him by surprise after showing up on set to swoop in and save the day. His mother Esther was still frothing at the mouth over his 'soulful, brown eyes' and Klaus had found himself wondering just how close he and Caroline were. Not that he liked Caroline in that way, Klaus was only trying to make sure things on set were professional. Given Caroline invented the rules she should be happy he was adhering to the protocol.

"I cannot believe you just went there," she drawled, finally looking away. "My love life and who I choose to sleep with is none of your business."

"You started it," he muttered thinking it sounded much more mature in his head. "But you can't go out with your friends tonight, mother has summoned us to a private dinner at her villa to discuss the shoot."

It was kind of true, Klaus insisted that he'd only attend if Caroline was invited too. He couldn't explain why he wanted her around all the time especially given how much of a hard time she gave him.

"I don't do family dinners, especially with the Mikaelson Brady Bunch, I would need way too many Margheritas to deal with that." He cocked his left eyebrow thinking that was a strange thing to say. About the family dinners and not about the excessive alcohol.

"Welcome to my world, trust me mother will have more than enough alcohol. How do you think we survive Christmas and every other holiday each year?"

"Mikaelson," she groaned. "You really hate me don't you?"

"Yes," he scowled, thinking she should have her own show because she could be just that dramatic. "Look, if you don't want to go then, by all means, let her know. I'm sure you have her cell number too and text her regularly."

"I cannot believe you," she muttered. "It truly is your mission to destroy what little social life I have, isn't it?"

"You do whatever you need to do sweetheart, I'm going to shower," he strode past her and towards the bathroom.

"But I said I was showering first!" She whined.

"Well, it looks like you're going to have to wait your turn," he teased, giving her one final smirk before shutting the door behind him.

Fifteen minutes later and Klaus was enjoying his shower, well except for the constant interruptions.

"Mikaelson get your butt out of the damn shower." She banged on the door in short, sharp bursts. The frequency of her interruptions was increasing. Klaus smiled evilly, he was having way too much fun annoying her.

"You know it would go a lot quicker if you didn't knock so often, love. Maybe it would be easier if you just came in and helped me with all the hard to reach places?"

"Over my dead body," she muttered. It seemed to work as her knocking finally stopped. Klaus chuckled to himself thinking that he'd won this latest battle. It was only when he turned to put back the cake of soap on the dish, that the water went freezing cold. Klaus screamed, jumping back in fright. It was only when he heard her laughing on the other side of the door that Klaus knew who was responsible.

"Ooops, I turned the faucet on! Was I not supposed to do that?" He leaned in and shut off the faucet, shaking his head as he did it. Maybe this particular battle went to her but Klaus knew the war was far from over.

You can read and review on AO3 and FF

#reality bites #gimme shelter #misssophiachase #klaroline fanfiction #klaroline #my writing

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patsdrabbles · 4 years

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Roger Knows Best

Title: Roger Knows Best Fandoms: Queen; M*A*S*H Relationships: Hawkeye Pierce/BJ Hunnicutt; Roger Taylor & Hawkeye Pierce; Roger Taylor & BJ Hunnicutt Rating: Gen Word Count: 693 Summary: It is a rule universally accepted that exchange students from the same country will find each other within an astonishingly short amount of time. A/N: Part 7 of my Daily Fanfic Chocolates calendar :D This is a fic I wrote as an in-universe short for my Deacon twins (John & Ritchie) AU some time ago! Please enjoy ❤

(links to AO3 and the DFC masterpost are in the reblogs!)

It is a rule universally accepted that exchange students from the same country will find each other within an astonishingly short amount of time.

It takes Roger's new American friend Ben - an exchange student from Maine - only a rough two weeks to spot a tall, sun-tanned blond in the crowded lecture halls of their Medical Ethics II class and drag Roger along to go find the guy again after class.

This is how Roger finds himself listening to the guy introduce himself patiently. BJ, as the guy is called - which got a loud bark of laughter and an eyebrow waggle out of Ben -, is a genuinely nice guy whose thrown-in funny remarks make Roger hope he'll be able to strike up a lasting friendship with him, as well. He is from the sunny state of California and training to be a surgeon. He is just as far with his studies as Ben, meaning that some of the quick back and forth chat between the two of them are like hearing a familiar-sounding but unknown language to Roger as a dentistry student. At one point, the three of them marvel at the fact that they all know Professor Potter, who is to hold a lecture in next week's Medical Ethics II class- he apparently travels the world a lot, being a much asked for guest lecturer.

It is when BJ's and Roger's stomachs rumble almost in unison that the group decides to head for the canteen. "I can't tell you how much better the food is over here than back in the States," Ben says to Roger as they wait in line to get a helping of today's main dish. BJ nods understandingly and lists several unsalvagable cases he has encountered at his university's canteen before and Roger shudders. Ben just laughs.

There's a sparkle, just a little one, in Ben's eyes a few times when he looks at BJ over lunch. Roger would never admit aloud that he absolutely loves playing matchmaker (God knows what comments that confession would get him from Deaky or Brian. He knows he'd have a partner in crime with Freddie, though), but he is tempted. He decides that BJ is a cool guy and probably won't hold a grudge for what Roger is about to do. He only hopes Ben will see he only means well, too.

"So. Have you got anyone back home who's waiting for you?" He asks them both, after (smoothly, he thinks, patting his shoulder mentally) changing the topic to relationships by commenting on a fellow student, a fierce-looking blonde, telling off a guy who clearly didn't know his boundaries. She then had walked away arm in arm with one of the nursing students Roger had talked with at a few campus parties before.

"No, can't say I have," BJ admits and Roger isn't imagining the tiny rise of his eyebrow when Ben agrees. It's now or never. His inner child is rubbing its hands together gleefully. He flips his finger against his tray once, then looks up, grinning. "You should ask Ben out, y'know? I think you two would be a great match." The last bit comes out rather fast, because Ben is turning to him with a facial expression that is both disbelief and panic at once.

"What the–" Is the only thing he manages to say though, because Roger is already pulling out his phone, looking at his notifications and continues talking. "Oh, it's twenty to two already, gotta go or I'll miss band practice, haha! See you, guys!" And off his is, his phone quickly pushed back into his pocket and the tray already in his hands, making his way to the tray return station.

Well, he never said that he was a professional matchmaker, did he?

He gets two text messages from Ben later though, telling him that his embarrassing stunt has been worth it.

I got a date this Friday. I can't believe this.

I owe you one.

Roger just grins to himself and pockets his phone again, making his way to the band practice room with a little spring in his step.

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burntcopper · 5 years

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(text below as it’s a premium article, more pictures and such at the link)

Mark Monahan, dance critic

7 MAY 2019 • 7:00AM

It is one of those volatile spring days where the weather can’t make up its mind, and I am in the studios at Three Mills Island, deep in the East End of London, watching rehearsals for Matthew Bourne’s brand-new production of Romeo and Juliet. To judge by the section of Prokofiev’s ever-astonishing score firing from the speakers, we are in the midst of the final, calamitous scene of Act II.

Tybalt staggers on, paralytically drunk. So far, so familiar to anyone who’s seen certain Tybalts in the Royal Ballet’s production – except that he is also clutching a revolver, which he brandishes at the terrified crowd of young onlookers. He then takes Mercutio and Balthasar hostage, forcing them, at gunpoint, to snog each other. As Bourne slyly tells me a little later, “I should say, it doesn’t follow the plot exactly – it is a Romeo and Juliet-type story We have got a couple of surprises up our sleeve…”

How could Bourne possibly not? After all, he is the dance-theatre supremo who, with his company Adventures in Motion Pictures (recast as New Adventures in 2002), has repeatedly put bold new spins on old works, often opening them up to entirely new audiences.

He is most famous for having redefined ballet at a stroke in 1995 by making all the waterfowl in his Swan Lake brazenly bare-chested men. But he also spiced up Carmen with a dash of The Postman Always Rings Twice and set the result in a steamy garage (The Car Man, 2000); transformed an obscure Sixties film, The Servant, into perhaps the other sexiest dance show so far this millennium (Play Without Words, 2002); and risked taking two adored, emphatically cinematic films – Edward Scissorhands and The Red Shoes – and putting them on stage (in 2005 and 2016). It was also Bourne who set Cinderella in Blitz-ravaged London (1997), thoroughly re-cracked The Nutcracker (1992) and sharpened up The Sleeping Beauty with vampires (2012). The fact that this master choreographer-producer and storyteller – already riding high with his superb current revival of Swan Lake – is now tackling the most stirring balletic tale of all makes this the single most eagerly awaited dance show of 2019.

“I think the key to the success of this company,” he tells me, “is that it brings in people who feel this is not something they’d normally understand, something they’re a bit scared of.”

So, besides the snippet of Act II that I catch, what sort of Romeo and Juliet can we expect when it launches in Leicester next week? The various New Adventures members I chat to prior to Bourne himself maintain an omertà-like silence about it, saying only that it’s set in an unspecified time in the near future, and reminding me that the show’s tag-line is “Imagine a time when love is forbidden …”.

Thankfully, the New Adventures grand vizier himself – remarkably affable and unstuffy in person – is a little more forthcoming. Designed (as usual with this company) by the terrific Lez Brotherston, the show, Bourne says, will be roughly two hours long, in three acts, but with just one interval, with the score rearranged (by Terry Davies) for a 15-strong live band. He also says that his scenario was “very vaguely” inspired by Anna Hope’s 2016 novel The Ballroom. Beyond that, however, Bourne is careful to tantalise rather than reveal, and this spirit of mystery extends to the show itself.

“We haven’t absolutely hit on a definite ‘this is it’ thing,” he says, “We think all these young people are in this institute. I want the audience to ask, ‘Why are they there? Is this to do with mental health? Is this a borstal? Is this a prison, a school? What is it? What’s going on? They’re obviously receiving some sort of medication. What it comes down to is that any excess of feeling is frowned upon and has to be, um…”

Quelled?

“Yes, quelled – good word! So, emotions are kept to a minimum, and they’re all young people who’ve been dumped there, because they’re trouble.”

Tybalt, Bourne explains, is now a corrupt guard. And, although there appears to be no Capulet family in this version, “we still get one set of parents, the Montagues, who bring Romeo there. We see him arrive, and they’re a bit like Kevin Spacey and Robin Wright in House of Cards, a political couple probably, and Romeo’s a bit of an embarrassment. He’s a bit like [the US President’s youngest child] Barron Trump, but a little bit older. He seems to have been locked away somewhere, bless him, poor boy.”

Bourne also hints that he, true to form, will not be holding back on the sensual side of things.

“I felt I could capture something that’s not in the ballet if we set it in a different time, something that was a bit more raw, a bit more like young people really are. I mean, when they get together, they go for it. They’re not thrilled by a kiss on the cheek – if they’re kissing, they’re kissing for hours.”

The regularity with which the word “young” comes up as we talk nods to another remarkable aspect of this new production. It marks the largest confluence to date of the two main strands of Bourne’s company: its fully professional performing side, and the charitable arm that aims to inspire young people to try their hand at dance. In practice, this means that a huge and heartening number of young people are involved in every aspect of the production which features two separate casts, each with their own set of star-crossed lovers.

It’s remarkable enough that two of the Juliets – Bryony Wood and Bryony Harrison – are just 19 and 21 respectively, and that one of the Romeos (Harrison Dowzell) is also 19. But many of the performers will be younger still.

A year or so ago, the company did a nationwide call-out for what they call the “local casts”. It whittled the 1,000-odd trainee dancers who applied down to 97, all aged 16-19, who will now be performing with the company. Throughout the 13-venue tour, New Adventures will be divided in half, with each half leapfrogging the other across the country. So, as one (dubbed the Capulets) starts performing in one town, the other (the Montagues) will begin a week’s pre-show rehearsal in the next. And waiting to join the company in every city, with the adrenalin doubtless pumping ferociously, will be six of those already-prepped youngsters. (The exception is the Leicester sextet, already involved in the London rehearsals.)

This, I suggest to the young-cast rehearsal director Paul Smethurst, looks like a project that could benefit British dance full-stop. “We have definitely found the next generation of star dancers,” he says. “And, we’ve found so many of them.”

What’s more, this youth drive extends to every aspect of the production. For example, young associate choreographer Arielle Smith is just 22. When she insists to me that Bourne often tells her, “Do what you want to do!”, and Smethurst, that “Arielle has a real voice and a real vision that she’s bringing to the piece”, I do privately wonder just how much trust the 59-year-old, Tony- and Olivier-garlanded Sir Matthew Bourne, OBE can really be putting in one so young. Then, minutes later – with Bourne coaching the principals across the corridor – there she is, working with dozens of corps members, and “holding” the room with complete command.

Now, these are, of course, gender-fluid times, especially in the eyes of the young. Besides which, Hackney-born Bourne (who these days lives in Islington with his partner, fellow choreographer Arthur Pita) has often toyed around with sexuality in his productions. Was he, I wonder, tempted to make his Romeo and Juliet a gay romance?

“Well,” he says, “I suppose years ago I may have gone with that. But, following on from Lord of the Flies [revived in 2014 with a largely teenage cast], which was all men, I didn’t feel this was the right time to go all male. So I thought, no, this is a chance to work with young people of both sexes.”

That said, Tybalt’s viciously enforced embrace does suggest that Bourne is up to plenty of gender-related mischief here.

“Oh, definitely, yes,” he confirms. “We wanted to have all life is here a little bit, especially with all the young people involved. I give them a bit of freedom with whatever sexuality they choose to be – how their character identified was important. For example, Mercutio’s got a boyfriend in this – that’s Balthasar. And there are a couple of girl characters who identify as gay, with one, Frenchy, who’s in love with Juliet.”

If anyone can get away with all this sort of thing, it is Bourne. His theatrical instincts have seldom let him down over the years (2008’s Dorian Gray the exception that proves the rule), and the brief section I see rehearsed – despite the absence of proper set, lighting, costumes and live music – is genuinely thrilling. What, I ask him, is the secret of his success? How has someone who didn’t even start dance training until he was 22 (at the Laban, in south-east London) made such a colossal mark on the dance world?

He credits his famous obsession with character – with giving every single person on stage a backstory and a purpose – with having collaborated on various non-New Adventures shows with “great directors” such as Trevor Nunn, John Caird, Sam Mendes and Richard Eyre. He also adds, “I think the key to the success is that I’m also quite reverential. I love the ballets, I love the scores, and I don’t want to mess with them too much. I want to honour the composers in a way that I feel is OK. And I want to tell a story to people.”

And want to get the audience involved?

“Yes,” he confirms. “And it just comes completely naturally to me. It’s not something I work at. I’ve never thought, ‘How do you get an audience on-side?’ It’s just completely the way I think about things, and I don’t see the point of it otherwise.”

Matthew Bourne’s Romeo + Juliet opens on May 13 at the Curve, Leicester, and tours the UK until October. Details and tickets: new-adventures.net

#romeo and juliet #matthew bourne

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gumnut-logic · 5 years

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Gentle Rain (Part Six)

Title: Gentle Rain

Warm Rain Series

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six

Author: Gumnut

24 - 26 Jan 2019

Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go 2015/ Thunderbirds TOS

Rating: Teen

Summary: Sometimes it is so gentle, you don’t realise it is happening.

Word count: 2937

Spoilers & warnings: Virgil/Kayo, Scott/OC, spoilers for Warm Rain up to this point in the timeline.

Timeline: Six months after ‘The Proposal’, almost a sequel.

Author’s note: For @scribbles97 I had so much fun with this one sitting on my back porch on a gorgeous sunny day. Many thanks to both Scribbs and @the-lady-razorsharp for help on this bit. Also for @vegetacide for some plotwork we did for further into the story. Next chapter is half written and I’m still having fun :D I hope you enjoy this fic that has a mind of its own.

Disclaimer: Mine? You’ve got to be kidding. Money? Don’t have any, don’t bother.

-o-o-o-

It was like some kind of daydream caught in a whirlwind.

The week had passed with medical consultations and chats with Scott over the network. His eyes lit up when he smartly inquired about Kayo asking her to Tracy Island.

“So you coming?” Was that expression hopeful?

“I’m considering it.” She bit back a grin. Why should she make it easy?

His eyes narrowed at her. “What could I offer to entice you?”

“Oh, you’d like to entice me, would you, flyboy?”

He really did have a beautiful smile. “I think I could.”

“Then entice away.”

He posed thoughtfully. “Now what would a gorgeous looking young woman like yourself find attractive on a tropical island. Let me think.” He tapped his lips with a finger.

She choked on a laugh. “Really?”

He held up a finger as if struck by a thought. “Marshmallows. We have the biggest, fluffiest marshmallows in the Southern Hemisphere. Absolutely delicious roasted over a slow fire.” He licked his lips.

Her eyes almost fell out of her head. “Scott Tracy, you are a flirt.”

“Yes. Yes, I am.”

“And brazen about it.”

“Do you mind?”

That brought her up short, but she didn’t hesitate. “I think I can handle it.” And she was grinning.

His voice dropped an octave. “Good.”

She shivered.

Wow.

She still got one over him. He never did find out if she was coming to visit or not. She held him at arms length the entire week, taunting him.

He seemed to enjoy it.

Kayo picked up the game and swore Virgil to secrecy. Virgil threw up his hands and refused to be drawn in to any of it. The fact he was called out to a rescue two minutes later aided and abetted her little conspiracy.

Scott left the hospital two days before she did. Now it was her turn and she found herself aboard the Tracys’ private jet, all leather and luxury. Virgil was flying while Kayo attended to her, and it was just the three of them flying over the stark red brown landscape of the Australian Outback.

She had luggage, a new hoverscoot, and a belly full of butterflies. There were popular rumours about where exactly Tracy Island was and what you would find if you ever managed to actually get there. Mansions, a secret city…heh, one website claimed Tracy Island was on the other side of a wormhole somewhere in the Bermuda Triangle. Another claimed it was easy to find by tracking birdlife.

Em didn’t really know what to think. The concept of a tropical island was steeped in stereotypes in any case. Perhaps palm trees would be present. The rest was likely up for grabs.

Kayo sat opposite her, occasionally looking at her with just a touch of concern. Em hadn’t said much since they had left Perth airport and she probably looked terrified.

For crying out loud, you’re a fully qualified professional, you’ve faced down much more in your life than a family of billionaires. Hell, she once stared down a patient holding a knife in her face. She was Em Bloody Harris, stop being such a wimp.

A little focus and a little spine.

She straightened and Kayo looked up. “Are you comfortable?”

“Yes, thank you.” Conversation. “Are you all pilots?” A frown. “Do you fly?”

A small smile crept across Kayo’s face. “Yes, and I most certainly do. Though I’m not surprised you haven’t heard of my Thunderbird.”

Em’s eyes widened. “You pilot a Thunderbird? Which one?”

“Thunderbird Shadow.”

The Thunderbirds were well known across the world as angels of mercy. They appeared at the most desperate moments, often long before any other rescue organisation could possibly have made it. There was the grey, blue and red rocket plane, the green behemoth that nursed all the equipment, a red rocket, a yellow submarine and the Voice Who Answered. There was also rumour of another plane, but sightings were rare and little was known about it. Em’s eyes widened. “You’re the ghost Thunderbird.”

The smile widened just a touch. “You could say that. We take our security very seriously.”

“Yet you’ve invited me.”

Kayo raised an eyebrow. “You checked out.”

It was hard to work out how to feel about that.

“Em, I don’t invite on whim. I thought you would like to visit and I know I will enjoy your company. The background check was just procedure.”

Em dropped her voice to a harsh whisper. “Please don’t tell them. They don’t need to know.”

She could tell by the security specialist’s reaction that she knew exactly what she was talking about. Equally quiet. “They won’t hear it from me.”

“I don’t blame International Rescue. It wasn’t your fault. The only one deserving blame was the bastard who caused it all. I hope he rots in hell.”

“He is.”

Em stared at her. “He’s dead?”

Kayo’s expression was horribly cold. “Yes.”

“How?”

“Classified.”

Blink. “Okay.” She swallowed. “I hope he suffered.”

The other woman didn’t answer, but something sad flickered briefly over her face.

“It is awfully quiet in here. Should I be worried? You two aren’t plotting a mutiny or anything, I hope.”

It was like a switch had been flicked. Kayo’s expression changed completely, smiling up at Virgil as he entered the cabin. “No need for a mutiny, love. I have plenty of other ways to get what I want.”

Virgil didn’t quite roll his eyes, walking past to grab a drink from the fridge. “Can I get you anything?” He waved a bottle of water in their general direction.

“No, thank you.” They chorused together.

Virgil looked back over his shoulder. “Do you have any idea how creepy that sounds?”

Em bit her lip, but couldn’t help parroting the sweet innocent smile Kayo sent her fiancé’s way.

His gaze darted back and forth between them, more alarmed by the moment. “Okay, I’ll just be upfront piloting the plane. Don’t summon the devil by accident.” And he stepped smartly back into the cockpit.

Em turned to Kayo to find the woman fighting back a grin. Em’s lips twisted as their eyes locked. A heartbeat and they both burst out laughing.

-o-o-o-

“Skies are clear, winds 20kph and from the south. You are cleared to land, Tracy Two.”

Through the open patio doors, John could hear the distant engagement of T2’s VTOL. Nowhere near as loud as her Thunderbird sisters, but strong enough to lower her safely onto Thunderbird Two’s runway.

He estimated no more than fifteen minutes before Kayo and their visitor would arrive in the lounge.

Sooner the better before Scott burnt out Thunderbird imPatient’s hover jets with his irrational ‘pacing’.

The slickly repainted hover chair now sported a pale blue-grey chassis with a slash of cherry red and sky blue down each side. The number one had been neatly inscribed in Thunderbird font on both sides. How Virgil had fit it in the last three weeks, John had no idea.

They had been horribly busy. Alan had been forced to take on Thunderbird One much to Scott’s annoyance. They simply could not function without her. As it was, Virgil had been burning most days at both ends, between rescues, hospital visits, and Tracy Industries on top of his regular duties.

They had only just gotten back to rhythm after Virgil’s accident. Now they were a man down yet again for at least another two months, probably more.

At Christmas.

Christmas never failed to increase the need for International Rescue. It was called the silly season for a reason. The collective IQ of the planet appeared to drop around this time of year, regardless of religion. If John could believe in astrology, he might have been inclined to blame the cosmos, but in reality it was often just stupidity.

At the moment he was seriously considering leaving the missing fishing boat caught in a cyclone off Broome, in the north of Western Australia, to the local authorities. They should never have been out, they had received clear warning, and yet had gone out anyway.

But IR’s sensory systems were far more advanced than any other. He had already interfaced with TB5 in an attempt to short cut a location, but the electrical activity in the cyclone denied him a lock at that distance. Thunderbird Two should be able to get a fix on the fishing boat’s transponder within a few hundred kilometres and with TB4 on board she should be able to render any assistance required.

He watched Virgil bring the light jet into land smoothly knowing that in a moment he would have to ask his brother to fly out again.

Gordon was already on his way to the hangar.

And Scott was spinning around in circles.

“You’re going to make yourself sick.”

“I can take eight Gs in a spiral dive. This is nothing.”

“Fine, but can you stop anyway?”

His big brother sighed and slowed to a standstill, staring at the toes of his left foot, stuck out awkwardly in front of him.

Over the last hour John had become acutely aware that something was bothering his brother above and beyond his injuries and resultant incapacitation. He had become fidgety, restless and agitated. It was out of character. Scott was a ball of energy at most times, but it was controlled energy, channelled and targeted at need.

Apparently, he had sprung a leak and, like a dropped garden hose, was bouncing around the room, out of control.

“Is there something wrong, Scott?”

“No.” Sharp and abrupt and so obviously a lie, John was almost insulted his brother thought it would work at all.

“Could have fooled me.”

“What?” He was poking distractedly at TB imPatient’s controls. The hoverchair did a sudden donut and backed ungracefully down the steps into the sunken lounge.

“Can you please not kill yourself on my watch. Virgil would be pissed.” That usually meant a pissed Kayo, never a good thing.

It was so much more peaceful in space. In space there was a comms off switch.

-o-o-o-

One minute there was a massive expanse of Pacific Ocean, next an island appeared out of nowhere.

Em stared out of the window at the dual spiked volcanic rock in the middle of blue water. As they drew nearer, she could make out the remains of the volcanic caldera, the hints of coral beneath the lagoon and the house amongst the rocks.

As the jet angled into land, her side of the plane dipped towards the ocean giving her a stunning view of the little island paradise. Knowing the pilot, probably on purpose.

Yes, there were definitely palm trees.

“Wow.”

Kayo smiled at her. “It’s home.”

The runway came into view, lined by palm trees. Em frowned. That didn’t quite look long enough...or wide enough. “K-“

The underside of the plane echoed mechanical movement, and a sudden roar above that of the jet engines started up. Their speed dropped off abruptly and Em felt her stomach shift inside her. The nose of the plane lifted and they descended vertically.

Kayo was watching for her reaction.

Em arched an eyebrow. “So not your average personal jet?”

The other woman smirked a little. “I’m sorry, but you’ll find that the Tracys don’t do ‘average’.” Was that pride? Perhaps just a little?

Em couldn’t help but grin.

Several butterflies were firmly stomped on.

Their speed slowed to almost a standstill as the ground approached, the jet hovering before gently touching down on the tarmac. Then, to her surprise, the jet’s wings folded back on themselves and they taxied between two lines of palm trees towards a cliff face.

She couldn’t quite see from her angle, but it appeared the cliff opened because moments later they were trundling through an entrance.

And past the massive bulk of Thunderbird Two.

She couldn’t help but stare.

“Damn.”

It was whispered, but Em heard it anyway. Kayo was up and out of her seat in the next breath and disappeared into the cockpit without another word.

Em was left to frown a little and stare at the giant green plane as the jet slowed to a stop in its hanger off to one side.

Thunderbird Two was high up on its landing struts, but as their jet came to a halt, there was a rumble of machinery and a chain of green cargo crates trundled past. One labelled with the number four settled beneath the giant green plane and the craft lowered, swallowing the crate whole.

Thunderbird Two was even larger that touch closer.

Kayo entered the cabin once again, her expression annoyed. “Virgil needs to fly out.” It was very clear the woman was not happy. “Some idiot went fishing in a cyclone.”

Virgil Tracy flew Thunderbird Two. It was well known. But now she had met the pilot she had trouble reconciling the kindly man with the gentle baritone, the soft smile and so much expression in his eyes every time he looked at Kayo, with the image of the superhero rescue operative of popular myth. He wasn’t what she expected.

But then a mental image of the saviour wrapped in metal, tossing brickwork with giant claws, as he busted into that hole beneath the collapsed hotel in Perth, flashed up.

Well, Superman did have his Clark Kent.

There was a hiss as Kayo enabled the cabin exit, an apparently automated set of stairs rolling into place. Virgil hurried from the cockpit, flashing her a quick smile before pausing in front of Kayo, his hands landing on her shoulders. Em looked away to give them privacy as he leant down to kiss her.

A whispered ‘fly safe’ and his boots hit the metal stairwell.

Moments later, the hanger was filled with the stirring roar of Thunderbird Two’s engines and she watched as the behemoth taxied out into the daylight. She couldn’t see the runway from where she sat and she had no idea how the huge plane managed on such a narrow tarmac, but seconds later, that roar swelled into a crescendo and the plane around her vibrated with the power being expended as the craft no doubt launched.

As the roar disappeared off into the distance, she looked up to see Kayo still standing at the exit, her back to Em.

“Kayo, are you okay?”

“Fine.” And the woman turned around a smile forced onto her face.

“Yes, Virgil.”

That earned her a glare. “Let’s get off this plane.”

That shut down the conversation. Em tried her best not to take it personally. It was obvious that Kayo wasn’t used to sharing her problems and honestly, it wasn’t any of her business.

Not much was said as Kayo helped her into her hoverscoot. The device was a smaller version of the hoverchair, less bulky now she had no legs to support. It had variable height so she could look a person in the eye if necessary. The harness supported her back, keeping her upright, while the remains of her legs were cushioned with anti-pressure in the small seat. She had chosen to wear what would have been a knee length summer dress today, the convenience of covering up her injury taken to full advantage, her stumps wrapped in soft socks beneath. The sleeveless dress hugged her overall slim figure, and was appropriate for the tropical clime

This was made abundantly apparent the moment she descended the stairs into the hanger. The hanger doors had since closed, the metal structure towering above her. In fact, the entire hanger was massive. But where she would have thought the air should be cool, it was gently warm, perhaps a remnant of the recent exposure to the outside.

Saltwater lingered in the air.

The cavern echoed with smoothly operating machinery. Some kind of automaton was interfacing with the cargo section of their jet and offloading their luggage and in the distance there was more movement of an unknown purpose. Kayo secured the plane before joining her and leading her over to an elevator.

“Gordon left with Virgil, but Scott, John and Alan are upstairs.” Kayo shot her a smile and Em managed to corral the butterflies just a little. “Did Scott ever work out whether you were coming today or not?”

“Heh.” Okay, so she was grinning now. “I strung him along quite nicely. He offered me all kinds of things to get me out here.”

Kayo actually let out a laugh. “Really?”

“I think the last offer was a Lamborghini.” Not that she would ever accept such a thing, it was hilarious to play the man.

“He offered you a Lambo?” A frown. “What colour?”

“Oh, I had a choice. Green or yellow.”

“Hah. Don’t trust him. He’s offering you Virgil or Gordon’s.”

Em’s eyes widened. “Really? You have Lamborghinis?”

Kayo snorted. “They’re boys. Did you expect anything less?”

She thought a moment as the elevator rose. “I don’t know. I never considered luxury in relation to International Rescue.”

The elevator slowed a moment before changing trajectory and travelling up at an angle. The movement was so smooth, her ‘scoot hardly reacted.

“Oh, they work for it, but the boys do have their toys.” Kayo’s smile was infectious.

“I told him I would only consider a blue one.” It had been teasing and off the cuff, but those eyes of his prompted everything.

“Points to you, Em. You picked his colour.”

And the elevator slowed to a smooth stop. She barely had chance to think before the doors opened and Kayo led her into a large lounge area.

Just in time to see Scott Tracy collide with a wall.

-o-o-o-

End Part Six.

Part Seven

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #virgil tracy #scott tracy #kayo kyrano #virgil/kayo #scott/em #scott/oc #warm rain #gentle rain

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simranmukherjee011-blog · 5 years

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Find Rooms For Rent In Singapore – Tampines, Pasir Ris, And Other Eastern Estates

If you’re looking for the easiest and most convenient way to find a property and rent in Singapore, TRUrental is a great option for you. The app sends you daily notifications about new listings, which are selected for you based on your specified search criteria.

With the app, you’ll also hear from landlords who want you as their tenant, which makes finding a home twice as easy and twice as fast!

Here are some of the active rental listings available for September 2018.

Check out more inside the Truuue Tenant app! If you are a landlord or agent, you can list your rental unit for free in our Truuue Landlord app.

To learn more, call TRUrental at 65918842. You could be scheduling viewing appointments as soon as today.

Renting in Tampines, Simei and Pasir Ris: Everything You Need To Know

There are many advantages to having a property on rent in Singapore’s eastern region. For one, it means quick and easy access to Changi International Airport, which is an absolute bonus if your job requires frequent travel. (Besides, the number one airport in the world also boasts four terminals that are chock-full of family-friendly amenities, activities and eateries.)

Secondly, you’ll find that some of the best local parks and beaches are located in the east, including Changi Beach Park and East Coast Park. And finally, life-long ‘easties’ will argue that the sun shines just a little brighter on their side of the island (a claim that’s not actually backed by proper scientific evidence).

By the time we are done, you will have the information you need to decide if you are an “east-sider”!

Basic Figures

Tampines Area: 20.89 sq km Population: 258,310 (2015)

Simei Area: 2.78 sq km Population: 42, 710 (2015)

Pasir Ris Area: 15.02 sq km Population: 139,810 (2015)

Got A Job In The East? Great!

Known as the commercial hub of the east, the Tampines Regional Centre is home to insurance giant AIA, major banks such as UOB and OCBC, and the Central Provident Fund (CPF). I don’t know anyone who likes a long commute, so if your place of work happens to be located in and around the regional centre, that may be reason enough to make Tampines your home base – you could be walking to work or just be a short bus ride away. (Simei and Pasir Ris would just be one and two train stations away, respectively.)

Also located in the area is the Changi Business Park (also known as the CBD of the east), a technology, IT and financial services centre. It houses major banks – Citi Group, DBS, Credit Suisse, Standard Chartered, to name a few – and other major companies including Cisco Systems, Infosys, Huawei, Honeywell, Wipro – the list goes on. The Singapore University of Technology and Design (SUTD) and the Singapore Expo are also situated in the area. If you’re working in any one of these organisations, know that the business centre is serviced by the Expo MRT station, which means a quick train ride to and from any of the three estates.

The estates are also extremely well-connected to the rest of the island. The Tampines bus interchange and MRT station (East-West Line and Downtown Line) – both located in the heart of the Tampines Regional Centre, makes travel to the Central Business District (CBD) – and to the rest of the country – uber convenient. (too early?)

For drivers and “Grab-ers”, the entrances/exits to major expressways like the Pan Island Expressway (PIE), Tampines Expressway (TPE) and East Coast Parkway (ECP) are just minutes away from these two major centres.

And if your day-job is an international man/woman of mystery, just note that the by-road commute is only mere minutes from your departure gate.

MATURE ESTATE NICETIES

Are you a homebody? Do you fantasize about pan roasted meals, fresh home cooked pasta, and ice cream binging? No less than 6 supermarkets (yes, more than the fingers on your right hand) are at your grocery run’s disposal.

At the Tampines Regional Centre alone are three supermarkets, each located within the following malls – Tampines Mall, Tampines 1 and Century Square. Next to the Simei MRT station is EastPoint Mall, which has a FairPrice supermarket taking up the entire fifth floor.

In Pasir Ris, White Sands Shopping Centre (located right by the Pasir Ris MRT station) also has an NTUC FairPrice in its basement. As if that isn’t enough, there’s always the Giant Hypermarket located at 1 Tampines North Drive 2 (right across from an IKEA and a Courts Megastore, in case you need to do some furniture shopping).

As you get to know your area, you’ll find more minimarts and smaller supermarkets peppered around the residential areas within each of the estates, many of them located at the void decks or ground floors of HDB flats and private condominiums – you’ll never have to worry about running out of milk.

The area is also well supported by medical services. If you’re feeling under the weather, you won’t have to travel far to see a doctor. The Singapore Doctors Directory online lists at least 37 clinics in Tampines alone (6 in Simei, and another 12 in Pasir Ris). Along with SingHealth, these are useful resources if you need to locate a 24-hour clinic, check where your nearest hospital is at, find a paediatrician, and so on.

In a medical emergency, there are two hospitals (open 24-hours) to save your life: Changi General Hospital at 2 Simei Street 3, Singapore 529889, and St Andrew’s Community Hospital at 8 Simei Street 3, Singapore 529895.

ESSENTIAL SERVICES

Locksmith/Key Duplication

So you’ve just rented your apartment and need to make an extra set of keys. Mister Minit is a reliable key-duplication chain store to go to and there just happens to be one located at EastPoint Mall (B1-K1). But what if you’ve misplaced your keys or are locked out of your rental? Well, Hoe Siong LockSmith(Blk 406 Tampines Street 41, #01-13, Singapore 520406) can not only duplicate your keys, they also happen to be (well-reviewed) locksmiths that have been in the business for 25 years and is one of the best 3 in the business!

Singapore Post Offices

Pay your utility bills and send your letters at any one of these locations:

1 Tampines Central 5, #01-03 CPF Tampines Building, 529508

350 Bedok Rd, Singapore 469538

White Sands, 1 Pasir Ris Central Street 3, #05-01, Singapore 518457

Laundromats

If your rental doesn’t come with a washing machine, or if said machine is eaten by the Cthulhu, here are some 24-hour anti-monster laundry solutions:

Wonder Wash (24 hours): 527D Pasir Ris Street 51, #01-02, Singapore 514527

Dobi Ekspress (24 hours): 445 Pasir Ris Drive 6 #01-100, Singapore 510445

Bubble Wash Simei (24 hours): 17 Simei St 4, #01-58, Singapore 529881

Wash2Dry (24 hours): 201E Tampines Street 23, #01-122, Singapore 527201

The Laundry Room (24 hours): 164 Tampines St 12, #01-297, Singapore 521164

FEAST IN THE EAST!

Seriously, food is everywhere. In Singapore, you cannot walk one kilometre without running into an eatery or food kiosk of some sort – eating is unabashedly the nation’s favourite past-time and this region has an equal share of delicious food finds. We’re simply highlighting some of the places where locals have given the thumbs up.

1. Ministry of Rojak

White Sands Shopping Centre, 1 Pasir Ris Central St 3, #01-30, S(518457).

Known for their Indian Rojak Fondue, the stall also offers local favourites such as tulang, mutton chop and bee hoon goreng. Wash it all down with a hot Teh Tarik or an ice-cold milo dinosaur.

Mellben Seafood Palace

440 Pasir Ris Drive 4, #01-13, S(510440).

This coffeeshop is famous for their pepper crab and crab bee hoon dishes. If you love seafood, it’s worth a visit.

Humble Burger

Pasir Ris Hawker Centre, 110 Pasir Ris Central, #02-22, S(519641).

For an interesting take on the traditional burger, head down to this hawker stall to try their Chicken Rice Burger (with buns made from chicken rice) or Sio Bak Burger. Or you could just indulge in the classics (with a side of twister fries) – their fish and beef burgers are really good.

Comida Fiesta

Singapore Expo Hall 4, 1 Expo Drive, #01-41, S(486150).

The restaurant serves up Filipino-Spanish fusion cuisine with dishes like Kare Kare, Sinigang, Sizzling Sisig, and Seafood Paella.

The Flourist

824 Tampines Street 81, #01-36, Singapore 520824

Here’s a cozy café where you can choose from a sweet selection of gelato flavours such as Matcha and Horlicks, and pair them with a plain waffle, or something more adventurous like charcoal mochi.

GET OUT OF YOUR HOME TODAY

Whether you choose to rent in Tampines, Simei or Pasir Ris, you’ll be pleasantly surprised by how much there is to do in the area.

If your idea of recreation is picking up a great book, you’ll probably never want to leave the massive five-storey Tampines Regional Library. It spans over 10,900 m2 and has over 400,000 books. The library has designed several reading areas that cater to the different age groups.

Flip through a magazine while overlooking a football field or hop on the one exercise bike that’s fitted with a reading desk – after you’ve worked up an appetite, why not take out one of the many recipe books available for loan so you can whip up a lovely meal. (Incidentally, the library also has a culinary studio where cooking classes are periodically run. Just saying.)

There’s another library at White Sands in Pasir Ris, albeit on a smaller scale (1,986 m2 and housing 125,000 books).

If retail therapy is your idea of a good time, there are five malls to drain your bank account: Tampines Mall, Century Square, Tampines 1 (Tampines); EastPoint Mall (Simei); and White Sands (Pasir Ris).

Catch the latest blockbuster at any one of the four movie theatres located at Tampines Mall, Our Tampines Hub, Century Square, and Downtown East.

Dreaming of that beach bod? No more excuses!

The sprawling Tampines Hub, houses swimming pools, jogging tracks, a professional football pitch, rock-climbing walls, a 30-lane bowling alley, an 836 m2 gymnasium, and so on. Alternatively, slap on some sunblock and go for a run or a bike-ride on the Tampines Park connector, a respectable 7 km stretch of largely car-free pathways that connects the three estates, and takes you from Bedok Reservoir Park to Pasir Ris Park. And as you explore the neighbourhoods, you’ll discover that the various estates are peppered with smaller parks, and outdoor playgrounds and gyms (and they’re free to use). With such easy access to everything, there’s no excuse not to get your workout on.

For something a little less manicured, take a leisurely cycle to the Tampines Quarry Park, a small body of water frequented by locals in the know. On weekends, drone-flyers and anglers looking for their elusive catches are a familiar sight, as are cyclists and picnickers.

Pasir Ris Park is another great outdoor space that’s perfect for a day out with friends and family. Not only is the park a safe and scenic environment for cycling and inline skating, kids can also go on pony rides and enjoy the park’s adventure playground. When you’re hungry after all that activity, you could have a packed picnic lunch or rent a barbecue pit (or enjoy a meal at the nearby food outlets). But this isn’t any run-of-the-mill park. There’s also a six-hectare mangrove forest that you’re welcome to explore, as well as a butterfly garden and a birdwatching tower. You could even pitch a tent and camp under the stars in one of the designated camping sites – a pleasant respite from the concrete jungle.

Downtown East in Pasir Ris is a great way to spend the weekend afternoon in a game of laser tag or get some watersports fun at Wild Wild Wet, Singapore’s largest water park.

The integrated accomodations at D’Resort can give you and your family overnight fun at all of Downtown East’s offering too!

These three estates are exceedingly self-sufficient; not only would you have easy access to all your daily needs, there’s also plenty of fun to be had. You may be hard-pressed to think of reasons not to lease in the east!

READY TO RENT? CHECK TRUUUE OUT!

Download the Truuue Tenant app and let landlords find you today. It’s the easiest way find a room or apartment on rent in Singapore. For landlords, list your unit for free on Truuue Landlord today!

Plus, you can use our super easy-to-use app to coordinate your rental unit viewings, for free! And if you need to speak to a real person, simply call our hotline at 6591 8842 to access our Concierge services!

Rent happy with Truuue!

original content available at https://blog.truuue.com/

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gaslampsglow · 6 years

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(Pictured: 1/30th of a rough weekend.)

So saturday afternoon, my boss (supervisor? team lead? superior officer? that weird nebulous stage between “coworker charged with keeping the group in line” and “Manager with capital M”) wheeled a massive skid of boxes over to my workspace and asked if I could take on a special project. We had a massive batch of lots from the same sake to shoot and document, and it needed to be done by someone with neurotic attention to detail. Obviously I said yes.

Each of the boxes on that skid were, like the one pictured above, stuffed to the brim with hundreds of photos. And I mean hundreds. There were photos from every decade since the 1890s, there were black and whites, postcards, color prints, slides. Kodachrome, Ektachrome, Polaroids, negatives pulled from positives, newspaper clippings copied and imaged with an enlarger. Contact sheets, proof pages, negative images of halftone screens, all the hallmarks of an absolute darkroom wizard.

All trains.

Thousands of photographs of trains.

And behind that first skid he wheeled another skid, loaded with even more.

Marketing felt that these were dump lots, that no one would spend any money on them, based on a few test lots that had been up for sale for a few days. Several other people, my boss included, felt that the product was great but the documentation was poor. Whoever shot the test sales had clearly not known what they were holding, nor did they seem to care, as they took four or five photos of piles of photos and called the whole thing done. For most items we sell, thats not a bad way of doing it. After all, to hit our daily numbers, most lots need to be shot in less than ten minutes, preferably six. You take a master shot illustrating the item, you take three to four angles or closeups showing details, then you document any damage or irregularity. Minimum four photos, usually about eight or nine, try not to shoot more than twelve. And if you’re shooting something that feels too niche or junky or tacky to make money, you spend less time with it so you have more of a buffer when trying to capture the tiny fucking watermarks on stupid crystal glasses. And a good general rule is that the more items are in a lot, the less they’re worth.

But all of these rules fly out the window when you are selling to Train People. You may have known a few. The ones with the model railroads in their basements, exactingly crafted to perfectly represent a particular rail line, or period, or place. The history buffs that out-obsess all other history buffs. No special interest is more granular, or more specific, or more seemingly mercurial to the untrained eye. They’ll fork over good money for a piece of rail history, but no one wants to buy blind boxes of photos sight unseen, hoping that they represent whatever line or time or place they’re looking for. And this treasure trove not only was astoundingly well organized, but almost every single photo was labelled with information, frequently detailing the make and model of the train as well as the time and place the photo was taken.

So my boss told me to sift through, document anything that seemed important, spend as much time as I needed and take as many photos as I want. I shot nothing but photos of trains from 1:30 to 7:30pm, taking about 40 minutes per box (each box being sold as a separate lot.)

Get in the next morning at 7:00am, keep going. At around 10, while I’m grabbing the next pile, a woman stops me and introduces herself as one of the Editors. We normally don’t see editors, as they’re four or five rungs up the ladder from photography, and most of their work is digital. They curate the overall estates and sales, revise and correct the research cataloguing does, order photo reshoots when necessary, and generally have the final say on many pieces of what hits the site.

This particular Editor is the one overseeing this sale, and was friends with the man who owned all of this stuff. So I get a little more background: all of these photos were from a Rail-spotting magazine run for 25 years by a local Cincinnati man. Train Fans would send in photos from all over the world to be featured, and this collection was essentially the man’s life’s work. The proceeds from selling all of this (and the piles and piles and piles and piles of other items) go to supporting the hospitalized mother he left behind after his death. So The Editor is deeply invested in making sure that not only is the work well represented, but that it makes top dollar, so that her friend’s work is sold to collectors rather than junk dealers, and that his mom gets a big check to pay for medical care.

Which means that she is profoundly unhappy with the performance of those earlier-mentioned test lots, and livid that attribution fobbed the whole thing off without doing much documentation, and that marketing thinks this all is worthless, and came hunting my boss to make sure that these photos are being shot properly. To say that she seemed skeptical of my care and attention to detail is an understatement.

“Well, I do want you to know that I’m putting a lot of time into these. I’m looking at every photo, pulling all that are in color, pulling any that are photographically impressive with high contrast, and paying particular attention to local lines.”

“You mean the ones marked as being shot here?”

“Well, sure, but also the rail lines that I know pass through Cincinnati. The next box I’m shooting I know is a bunch of B&O so I’m excited for that, since I drive under an old B&O bridge as I leave my neighborhood.”

“B&O?”

“You know, Baltimore and Ohio. Its the oldest full service rail line in the country.”

“...I guess you are the right one to do these.”

Which is about when the other player enters the scene, one of the two company Founders. She and the Editor had both been on this sale for months, starting at the house packing and organizing this estate, which was so cluttered and filthy and untamed that the Founder called in a personal favor and flew her pal Matt Paxton (one of the Professional Cleaners from the show Hoarders) out to help cut through the muck. So now, months later, in the final hours of a giant project, the presentation of the whole thing is on me. And the decision makers for the whole company are standing around my workspace while my boss shows the work I’d been doing so far.

I was a little stressed.

But as they flipped through, I could see everyone become visibly less tense. My boss explained, “If I had given this to any other photographer in the building, they would have grabbed the first ten photos out of the box, shot just those, then moved on to the next one. I picked Corey because he loves history, and he’s willing to do the work. He’s shooting sixty and seventy photos for each of these lots.”

Which, uh, was a pretty great feeling, not gonna lie. I’m not used to receiving kudos, even just verbally, from bosses, let alone people that high up the food chain.

Of course this was tempered by finding out that this whole sale was going live that night.

This meant that I had about 20 more lots to shoot by 3 in order to give cataloguing enough time to write descriptions and hit complete. It was, at this point, 11:15. The race to finish was not fun, with my boss jumping on the sweep next to mine for the last two hours, as we steamed across the finish line around 4:30. At that point, I was kaput. Completely finished. I spent the last three hours at work sleepwalking, came home, and melted into my chair. I told Jo it was an incredibly stressful day.

And it was.

(Hey look, its Cincinnati! Back when the Inclines were running.)

But I keep thinking about that feeling. Because this isn’t the same stress I’m used to. And I know this seems so obvious or blase, but every job I’ve had has been stressful. I mean, every job is stressful in its own way. But I’m not used to that stress being...rewarding? In the same way that art or film or woodworking, creation for my own purposes, is stressful.

I know I’m saying “the sky is blue” as if it were a new discovery I’d made, but I’m so unused to feeling job pressure that resolves not as misery but as accomplishment. Three years at Lowe’s and every day was “oh no, I have to do this again tomorrow? How!?” and finding victory in the tiny little footholds of humanity that I got from one customer out of a hundred. I emotionally have no idea how to process “my boss and my boss’s boss and their boss are all impressed with my random assortment of knowledge and ability to organize information.”

This is not a complaint, mind you. Not even a little bit. Just a very gratified confusion.

Anyway, if you’ve read this far, thanks. As reward, have a photo taken sometime in the 70′s about a block away from my house.

#Wyrd Mysteries #cincinnati #ohio #railroad #my job is weird

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picarrete1976 · 3 years

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toutorii · 3 years

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Various Honoka HCS

Cause Im self indulgent 😌

⁃ So when Noka was a baby, neither her dad, Shirou or Daiki knew what the hell to do with her wings.

⁃ Her first word was "Daiai" which was exposed to be "Daiki"

⁃ Daiki would call Noka "baby bird" and mo one will tell me otherwise

⁃ He also called Shirou "buddy"

⁃ She would fly around and their dad would make Shirou chase her down. Cause by this point, Daiki had already “joined” AfO.

⁃ When Shirou and Noka were taken in by their uncle, he just slept and let her do whatever.

⁃ Their uncle, also known as Eraserhead, was a very kind guardian

⁃ He went to each of Shirou's ballet concerts, and did Noka's hair for picture day

⁃ If you looked through his search history it would be filled with "how to do a braid for beginners"

⁃ Aizawa bought Noka various art supplies and bought Shirou new shoes whenever they needed them

⁃ He also worried for his nephew, who went missing right before Noka and Shirou ended up in his custody

⁃ Didnt want Noka or Shirou to become heroes

⁃ Cause he didnt want to see the two children he practically raised to be hurt

⁃ But because of their ties to All for One, the government forced both of them to become heros to "prove" that they had severed their bonds with All for One

⁃ Shirou's dream was to become a professional dancer and Noka's was to become a professional artist

⁃ And Aizawa was not happy that the two lights in his life were torn from their dreams

⁃ And so Shirou got accepted into the hero program, in class 1-A

⁃ He chose the hero name Shifter

⁃ Cause he could shift into any organic form

⁃ When he got 3rd place at the sports festival, Noka ran around her uncle's apartment screaming with joy

⁃ Noka is literally his biggest fan

⁃ Noka's first friend was a small purple haired boy name Hitoshi Shinsou

⁃ So naturally, she called him Toshi

⁃ And she refused to call him anything else all throughout middle and high school

⁃ Shinsou and Noka have sleepovers all the time and you can't tell me otherwise

⁃ When people would tell Shinsou that his quirk was villainous, Noka would always speak up cause she knew Shinsou wouldnt contradict them

⁃ Noka is always like that

⁃ Speaking up for others and herself. And her smart mouth tends to get her in trouble

⁃ Shinsou would fuss over Noka's wings. Like if they were dirty or a few feathers were out of place, Shinsou would sit her down and fix her wings.

⁃ "Toshi, your inner mom is showing"

⁃ "Its not my fault you cant take proper care of your wings"

⁃ When she told Shinsou about her acceptance into U.A's med course, he couldn't have been prouder

⁃ Noka is actually the one who encouraged Shinsou to train with her uncle.

⁃ But before that lets talk about Noka's time at U.A. so far

⁃ She was first introduced to class 1-A during the first combat training

⁃ Healed everyone who got very minor injuries

⁃ At the USJ attack, Shigiraki deteriorated part of Noka's hip. But her extremely enhanced natural healing abilities stopped the deterioration

⁃ So she has this big ass scar on the back side of her left hip

⁃ She wanted to absolutely murder Shigiraki for letting the Nomu loose on her uncle

⁃ But she doesnt have any damaging fire power

⁃ So she just tried to heal her uncle's wounds the best she could

⁃ Nearly gets herself killed many times with her smart assery

⁃ And gives everyone around her a heart attack in the process

⁃ During the sports festival, she helped RG heal all the students

⁃ Reprimanded Deku for overusing OfA

⁃ Oh yeah, she learned about AfO and OfA from her time with All for One (A/N: please dont kill me im trying to not make her too op 😭😭)

⁃ Is kind of like to Deku like Recovery Girl is to All Might

⁃ So fast foward to the internships

⁃ She interns with another oc of mine, Snow

⁃ Who is a healer but with incredible attack powers

⁃ Coincidentally, Noka was patrolling Hosu when the nomus hit

⁃ She recieved Deku's distress signal and ran to the scene

⁃ She didnt attack the hero killer, but ran to help Native and made sure he didnt bleed out

⁃ The hero killer didnt bat a single eye at her, deeming her not a threat

⁃ In the end, she didnt harm Stain so her hero guardian? didnt have to take any blame for her actions

⁃ Noka however did get nearly ripped in half by a nomu, so she had to stay in the hospital with Todo and Deku

⁃ So— Summer training arc

⁃ She just looked at her class and said "fuck this" and flew over the whole forest

⁃ She actually beat the wild wild pussycats back to the camp

⁃ She got to know Kota, telling him how she never wanted to become a hero

⁃ Kota may or may not have developed a kiddie crush on her 😳

⁃ But anyways, when everyone else saw her all nice and refreshed, needless to say they were upset

⁃ Some more than others

⁃ *remembers Bakugou nearly blowing off Noka's face because she cheated*

⁃ Aizawa just smirking at his niece cause shes so much like her mother

⁃ "DAMMIT TAKAHASHI. YOU BETTER GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE YOU CHEATER"

⁃ "They said to use our quirks. Its not my fault your quirk is too grounded"

⁃ "WHAT— YOU WANNA FIGHT—"

⁃ "No I wanna eat, goodbye—"

⁃ Focuses on her attack and the healing capabilities of her quirk

⁃ Let me set the scene

⁃ At the beginning of UA, our Noka could barely heal up a small cut

⁃ But now, she can close up major wound with little to no effort

⁃ P r o g r e s s people

⁃ N e ways

⁃ So when they do the haunted quirk thingy

⁃ Hairi and Noka are paired up, to their delight

⁃ But they aren't able to go into the forest before the attack happens

⁃ Apparently, the league came for Bakugou and Noka

⁃ Cause the "master" wanted his first nomu to return to him

⁃ But all Deku knew was "they are after Kacchan and the master's first Nomu"

⁃ Nobody knew who the first nomu was except for Noka

⁃ See, AfO took and gave Noka various quirks, eventually ending up with her current quirk(s)

⁃ He did this to Shirou and Daiki as well

⁃ But Shirou's body wasnt able to handle as many quirks, so AfO discarded him

⁃ Daiki was not aware that Noka was a target, Shigiraki knew he would object and purposely left him out of the loop

⁃ Eventually, Noka is cornered by Dabi

⁃ His fire power vastly out matches hers

⁃ But she puts up one hell of a fight

⁃ And Kurogiri took her before she woke up and fought back even more

⁃ So everyone was panicking when they couldnt find Noka

⁃ Aizawa was panicking them most

⁃ His precious niece was missing, no, taken by the league

⁃ The students had never seen their teacher so frazzled

⁃ The thing that broke Aizawa more was the look on Shirou's face when he told him that his baby sister was missing

⁃ His precious baby sister

⁃ His whole world

⁃ Shirou didnt go out of his room for days

⁃ He was there when they were to save Bakugou and Noka

⁃ All Might fought AfO, and won

⁃ But there was no sign of Noka

⁃ Shirou nearly tackled Bakugou, demanding, no, more like pleading for him to tell him where she was

⁃ Bakugou merely said "She's gone, and I dont know where she went"

⁃ The whole class was in a panic

⁃ Where was Noka? Was she hurt? Was she scared? Was she in danger?

⁃ And the question that hung on everyone's mind the most was

⁃ Is she alive?

⁃ The emptiness of Noka's desk was deafening

⁃ Their smart ass classmate was nowhere to be found

⁃ And they all felt guilty

⁃ But none more than Bakugou

⁃ For he was the last to see her alive so to speak

⁃ And her last words to him were "Forget about me ya big oaf, you hear me? I don't want you sulking, or I'll personally beat your ass."

⁃ Forget about her? How could he do that?

⁃ Noka was the only person who didn't put up with his bullshit

⁃ From day one she put him in his place

⁃ And honestly shes the closest thing to a sister he has

⁃ During the hero license exam, all of class 1-A decided that Noka would be really upset if they all sulked and failed their exams

⁃ But the fact that only Todoroki and Bakugou failed would make her fall into hysterics

⁃ When class 1-A met the big three, Mirio told them that Noka was strong and stubborn to a fault, so they shouldnt worry about things that arent in their control

⁃ To which they asked how he knew her

⁃ Apparently Shirou, Amajiki, and Mirio have all been friends since elementary school

⁃ So Amajiki and Mirio had been there a lot for many crucial parts of Noka's childhood

⁃ When the work studies started, Deku went on patrol with Mirio and Shirou, AKA Lemillion and Shifter

⁃ Shirou couldnt help but feel so much guilt crushing him when Eri jumped out of Deku's arms

⁃ Cause Eri reminded him of his little sister

⁃ Speaking of little sister

⁃ She refused to return to the league, so Shigiraki sold her to giran, who then took her to Overhaul

⁃ For the last 2 months, Noka had been experimented on by Kai Chisaki

⁃ In the mean time trying to protect Eri and building a loving friendship with the young girl

⁃ Ill talk about this another time

⁃ So skipping to when they save her

⁃ It was a total shock for them

⁃ To see this wingless, pale, frail, bandage wrapped girl

⁃ And even more so when she spoke

⁃ Not having that bite that their Noka had

⁃ But a softer, more broken voice replaced her normally boisterous and confident voice

⁃ In the big battle agains Chisaki, Noka got slammed against a wall

⁃ Which in normal circumstances would be fine, but with her body in such a week state it immediately cracked her ribs and spine

⁃ Ochako helped get her friend to the ambulance as quick as she could

⁃ Shirou saw a fluff of pale pink hair out of the corner of his eye

⁃ He immediately turned to run towards the medical stretcher, but was stopped

⁃ He kicked and screamed something along the lines of "THATS MY BABY SISTER. PLEASE LET ME SEE HER"

⁃ In the most broken voice you would ever hear

⁃ In the hospital, after Sir. Nighteye had passed, Deku, Kirishima, Amajiki, Shirou, Ochako, Tsu and Aizawa were all waiting anxiously for Noka's surgery

⁃ When all of a sudden the door explodes open and the nurses and doctors are shoved out by an invisible force of heat

⁃ Noka was using her ability to set herself aflame and be healed in the ashes

⁃ But no one knew wtf was going on cause she learned the trick at the Hassaiki hideout

⁃ So p a n i k

⁃ But after the doctors confirmed her stablility, they all went back to school

⁃ The whole class bursted into tears when they told them about Noka

⁃ Jirou, Kaminari, Momo and Mina all being the most emotionally impacted

⁃ Bakugou was almost crying witb relief but he disnt show jt

⁃ They weren't allowed to see Noka for a whole month

⁃ Only family were allowed

⁃ She was hard at work recovering and going through therapy and they didnt want to disturb her

⁃ But when they (Kirishima, Deku, Ochako, and Tsu) did visit, they were shocked

⁃ There was this soft spoken, trembling, woman, and this was after a month of intense therapy

⁃ They hadnt event started physcial therapy yet, they wanted to get her tk the point she could be around others without going into a panic mode

⁃ But what really shocked them was how her wings hadnt grown back.

⁃ They were then told that they would never grow back, since the bone in them were completely ripped out.

⁃ Thus she needs a wheelchair while she recovers

⁃ Daiki sometimes visits her during the night

⁃ He apologizes to her over and over again for not being there when she was taken

⁃ But also to apologize for abandoning her and Shirou

⁃ She just cupped his wet cheek and said

⁃ "Daiki, I know you had a damn good reason to do what you did. Also you're my big brother. I dont care if you work for All for One, youre still my brother. And you'll always have a home with us. Shouta Shirou and I will welcome you back with open arms."

⁃ Needless to say Daiki just bursted into more tears

⁃ Anyways—

⁃ By the time the school festival comes around, Noka still needs a wheelchair, and isnt the strongest mentally, but she has made tremendous progress.

⁃ After the 1-A concert, Eri sat on Noka's lap the whole time. Except during the beauty pageant, in which Deku held Eri, and Mirio held Noka (cause shes a smol baby)

⁃ Noka was in charge of tesching Eri the basics while she recovered, since the young girl felt most comfortable with her

⁃ When the dual training session came around, Noka still couldnt do much moving around without draining her energy quickly. So she stuck with enhancing her quirk while she built up her physical strength.

⁃ Meaning she healed any and all injuries after the matches were concluded

⁃ Monoma made the mistake of saying something about her not making any progress, and Bakugou was t h i s close to murdering him 😌

⁃ Ever since Noka got back from the hospital, Bakugou has been v e r y protective of his honourary sister—

⁃ But Kendou smacked the blonde before Bakugou could do anything

⁃ Shinsou would totally go like "Noka are you okay? Are you sure you should be out here? How are you feeling? Do you feel sick?"

⁃ Cause Shinsou is a mom

Anyways I have a bunch more hcs but i dont wanna completely bore you. But I was thinking of doing this for Daiki Shirou and Noka as children. Or maybe for Phoebe 😳😳😳　

Comment or send an ask if i should

#Honoka Takahashi #toris ocs

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