#I might just die it would make no difference

[ttsukiimi]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ F⍣CK HER ‘TILL SHE SORE!

★ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 ⎯ He’s not addicted to your cũnt—he swears. He swears even as he’s forced the fourth ōrgasm out of you tonight; and there’s more to come.

★ 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 ⎯ gojo x fem!reader, toji x fem!reader, choso x fem!reader, nanami x fem!reader, smut (mdni), tit play, multiple örgasms, size difference (choso), slight còckwarming (nanami), reader referred to as (princess, baby, doll, good girl)

✧･ﾟ𝓖. 𝓢 ✧･ﾟ

Gojo didn’t even know how he even initially found himself inside you—it was like one second he was cuddling closer to you as his eyes glued to the tv, then another your leg was hoisted over his waist as he jerked his hips into you repeatedly. Was it his fault? Had he begged you to let him put just the tip in? Yes.

But you had given in, and that in its own was your mistake.

“Stay still, princess, wanna give it to you good,” he whispered in your ear, the way his shaky breath fanned past your neck causing goosebumps to bloom on your skin. You nodded, though it wasn’t a promise, and tried to take each passionate thrust of his girth he gave to you.

You were clutching the couch pillow for dear life, whining as you felt euphoria rock through you so pleasurably for the umpteenth time that night. The movie playing had long been forgotten—only serving as background noise, and to Satoru a nuisance since the sounds drowned out your heavenly moans.

He huffed into the skin of your neck, determined to now make you louder, and a hot slap landed on your left cheek, effectively coaxing a loud yelp from your lips. “Mh—!”

And you were sensitive by then, his seed dripping from your battered cunt, your body shivering and thighs quivering, but even then he was set on urging one last orgasm out of you.

Or two.

Hell, he couldn’t even promise it wouldn’t be three. But he just needed to stay inside of you.

Satoru’s hands came up from behind you before they latched onto your chest, groping your tits as he muttered lewd words in your ear.

“You like when I fucking play with these pretty tits, hm?” He kissed your shoulder, and you felt a smile form against your skin as the only thing you could let out was a weak whine—too drunk on his dick to speak. Satoru groaned at the sound, his lips finding your pulse point as he spoke.

“Always so dumb once I get inside you,”

✧･ﾟ𝓒.𝓚✧･ﾟ

Choso doesn’t have an exact idea of why he loves being buried inside you so much; perhaps it’s the way you sound, the way you feel, or the way you look—tears in your eyes and all—but he does know that he’d die happy if that meant he was inside you in his last moments.

And he absolutely adores every minute that he is.

Because with how much your greedy cunt is pulsing around him, and your manicured nails are scratching red lines down his back, Choso thinks he’s really found heaven. Right between your legs.

“Baby, slow down, Cho,” you whined, your sight obscured with tears though you could still make out the image of his sculpted body over yours, and he’s so big compared to you.

Sometimes he might forget that—but could you blame him though? Anyone would forget about some mere size difference when inside your addictive pussy, and he proved to be that anyone.

Choso leaned forward, and in the process his hair fell forward, framing both yours and his face. His hands ventured up your body and found their place on your chest, squeezing the meleable flesh.

“‘S okay, you can take it,” he mumbled, pressing a quick kiss to your lips, uncaring of the slight drool dribbling from the side of your mouth. With each thrust the course hairs at his base tickled your clit, stimulating you in a way that felt so good your whole body was quivering with pleasure.

“Just..one more, baby,”

✧･ﾟ𝓝.𝓚✧･ﾟ

Sometimes Nanami finds himself wondering just what you do to him, how you’ve changed him in ways he couldn’t himself in the past years you’ve been together. He can't help but smile when he sees your infectious smile, and he melts when he hears your sweet laugh.

But, above all, you've created an addiction in him. One that he seems to think about every waking moment; even at work, and that’s new territory for him.

What’s worse is that you know. Always teasing him about how pussy drunk he is, how he’d really do anything just to be inside you—not like he’s denying that—but he can’t retaliate with the way the tips of his ears burn pink. So, he’ll prove it.

“Kento, what’re you—“ you cut yourself off with an uneven breath, eyes rolling to the back of your head in tandem with the way he pushes himself into you.

His strong arms are wrapped around you, keeping you in place, but he strangely doesn’t begin to move. The reason being—well, he’s testing himself. His resolve, his patience by not moving a single inch, even while being compressed by your tight warmth.

Which is proving to be a challenge already for Nanami.

“Proving to you that ‘m not—“ he halts, groaning and gritting his teeth as you slightly shift, causing a grin to flourish on your face.

“That you’re not what?” you retort, pushing your hips back onto him, taking him in deeper than he already was. Your hand reaches back and caresses his face, cooing above his lips. “Know you wanna move. ‘M not stopping you either, ken.”

You’re so close to his lips Nanami could move an inch and they’d touch, but he won’t, of course. But…when you’re fucking yourself on his cock, moaning out for him to hear, to tease him, Nanami thinks maybe there isn’t anything to prove.

Maybe he is drunk on your pussy.

✧･ﾟ𝓣.𝓕✧･ﾟ

Toji knows of his slight compulsion towards your pussy. His tendency to always want to be inside is truly something that needs to be studied—because there’s absolutely no way his sex drive should be this significant.

Admittedly, he is aware of his addiction, but will he take any action to try to change his behavior? No. That then becomes your problem to tackle, but you have the perfect solution.

“A what?” Toji mumbled, licking the scar on his lip as he creased an eyebrow upwards in confusion. You were sat on his lap, your arms looped around his neck and you began to speak.

“A Sex ban, Toji.” you attempted to suppress your grin when you saw the confusion on his face only deepen, and a big hand came to cup your cheek, forcing you to look at him.

“‘M not for all your little games today, doll. Got a mission tomorrow and y’know what that means.” he sighed, his free hand holding your waist, slowly sliding to the waistband of your shorts and beginning to pull them down.

“But, really baby, we—you need a break.” you protested, but just couldn’t counter back with the way his rough and thick fingers were already playing with your folds, gathering your essence.

Quickly, his lips were on yours and that shut you up, which gave him time to free himself from his sweats and enter you in one, swift motion.

He wasted no time in holding your hips and bouncing you up and down on his cock, a smug smirk on his lips as he looked at the way your eyes rolled back in pleasure. You weren’t one to talk about a sex ban when you could hardly even let him go on a mission for more than 2 days without complaining about how much you missed him and his magic dick.

“Now ya just be quiet and take what I give you, yeah?” he breathed in your ear as his big hands groped your tits, fingers playing with your hardened nipples. The pleasure coursed throughout your body so deliciously, already causing your thighs to begin quivering and your pussy pulsed around him, greedy to suck him dry.

“Good girl,”

#ꔫ : ˚ ͙۪۪̥◌⎯ 𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐈’𝐒 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 #jjk fic #jjk smut #gojo smut #jjk x reader #jjk headcanons #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk fanfic #jjk x you #toji fushigro x reader #toji smut #fushiguro toji x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x y/n #kento nanami #nanami smut #nanami kento #kamo choso x reader #choso smut #kamo choso #nanami x you #nanami x reader #toji fushiguro #choso kamo #gojo satoru x reader #jjk nanami #toji x you #dilf toji

[megalony]

Toughen Up

As promised, this is a new Eddie Diaz imagine, requested by a lovely anon. I hope you will all like it, let me know what you think.

Taglist: @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyjen @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @stefansalvatoresgf @kyky9103 @wutheringhearts2275 @gay4hotmilfs @itshamleth @chaoticnosleepinfluencer @gs29 @wh0reforsmutstuff @mel-vaz @natashamea18 @chrisevansdaughter @alexandra8484 @deena-beena-weena @targaryenluvs @shelbygeek @kpoplover-19 @marvelmenarebeautiful @gillybear17

@zoeybennett @mrspeacem1nusone @zephyrmonkey @estella-novella

Eddie Diaz Masterlist

Summary: When another station is short staffed, (Y/n) gets transferred over for a shift. But when she gets hurt, nobody takes her seriously and she has to call her family to come and help her.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A shiver rattled down (Y/n)'s spine and sent goosebumps rising up on her skin when she heard the shower door open. For a brief moment, her arms bound around her chest and she was about to scream until she looked over her shoulder.

It wasn't just anyone on the team wandering in or opening the door by mistake. It wasn't someone trying to sneak a glance at her undressed and trying to clean up ready for their next call out.

It was her husband.

"What are you doing?" (Y/n) took a step closer to the wall and pressed her lips together tightly to smother any noise she might make when Eddie walked in to join her. She was relieved when he shut the door so the draft finally stopped and the water created another aroma of steam to circle around them.

She let her hands drop from around her chest and her eyes closed automatically when his arms circled around her waist.

"Joining you." Eddie tucked his face into (Y/n)'s neck and pressed his lips against her wet, burning skin. He felt the water drip down and flatten his hair and trace down the bridge of his nose. And as fell onto (Y/n)'s shoulder, he felt her shiver against him.

He tightened his arms and pushed forward when (Y/n) groaned as if she might just have the willpower to fight him off and tell him to get out. He knew she wouldn't. He grinned into her neck when she seemed to melt against him instead of push him away.

They were at work. They were on shift.

This was the first time (Y/n) had found Eddie wandering in to take a shower with her while they were at work. He had never been this sneaky before. Usually they were affectionate when their shifts lined up and they worked together, but this was different. This was breaking the rules and testing to see if they got caught or not. (Y/n) didn't want to get caught out.

Her dad wouldn't go easy on them if he found out they were doing this. Evan would have a field day if he found out. Hen would never let them live this down and Chimney would probably die of embarrassment for them.

(Y/n) opened her eyes and looked down when she felt Eddie's hands curve round from her hips to grab and squeeze at her waist. His thumb brushed up and down her skin against the water cascading down around them and (Y/n) took a sharp breath when he suddenly bit down on her neck like a vampire.

"You shouldn't be in here… go next door." (Y/n) motioned her hand to the right to signal any other cubicle. There were four shower blocks in here, Eddie needed to go into one of them and get washed. On his own.

If they were gone for a while at the same time, people were going to notice they were missing and if anyone came in here and found them, they would get disciplined. It wasn't within the rules to take a shower together or cop off while they were still on shift.

"You want me to be lonely?"

"Eddie…" (Y/n) tilted her head back when Eddie moved his lips down and started to bite another mark onto her skin. If it wasn't bad enough that he was taking the risk to be in here, he was also marking her up and if people noticed, they would know what they'd done. "You want us to get reprimanded?" She countered, but her words did very little to persuade him otherwise.

She took her time turning around in his arms and her hands traced down to his chest to try and nudge him backwards. If he was going to do this, she would try and get out with him. (Y/n) would cut her shower short and get out if it stopped Eddie from becoming insatiable like this.

"No one knows you came for a shower. Just let me have five minutes with you, baby. Please? No fun and games, I swear." Eddie dug his fingertips into her hips and pushed her back until her back hit the tiles and she gasped.

They were like ice cubes sticking to her burning skin and the mix of hot and cold made her shake until Eddie tilted his head down so their foreheads were pressed together.

He just wanted five minutes alone with his wife. They were pulling a double shift at the station. Eddie wanted a few minutes alone with his wife before they had to go back on shift and be somewhat professional. He wasn't asking to risk getting caught or risk having sex in the shower and get carried away. He just wanted to be as close as he could to (Y/n) for a little while. Just a few minutes.

She liked the way the water dripped down from his pale pink lips and jumped free from his chin. Each droplet made (Y/n)'s chest tighten while she reached her hands up to cup the back of his neck.

"Five minutes." She warned, keeping her fingertips pressed against his skin as she pulled him down to her level and connected his lips onto hers.

She sucked his lower lip between her teeth and gave a little bite until Eddie growled and pulled her chest up against his.

He cocooned both arms around her waist and splayed his hands out on her back, gliding his fingertips up and down her skin while his temple pressed into hers. He kept her pressed back against the wall and closed his eyes, leaning his chest down onto hers so they were as close as they could possibly get.

This was all Eddie wanted. He just wanted to hold her. He could restrain himself and stop from dragging this moment out into an hour-long shower where people really would notice they'd gone missing. Eddie had self-control and he could about handle holding her and not taking it any further.

When (Y/n) moved her hand up higher and began dragging her fingers through his wet hair, she felt him groan into her lips and his hands pressed down firmer into her back. Her nails scratched against his scalp and she gave a sharp tug on his roots before Eddie disconnected their lips and moved back down to her neck.

He kept his face tucked into the crook of her neck, eyes still closed and lips floating across her glistening skin with a more gentle touch this time. He didn't bite down or attempt to leave anymore marks, he just glided his lips up and down her neck until (Y/n) was reduced to a shivering mess.

He worked his way back up to her face and connected their lips again, but they both froze when they heard the shower room door open.

"Eddie…" She murmured as quietly as she could against his lips but he shook his head and pressed his lips back to hers as if to make sure she stayed silent.

He kept their noses touching and their eyes locked as Eddie leaned down and moved slowly. His hands wormed their way down her back so one hand was in between her hips and the other gripped the underside of her thigh. (Y/n) could feel his fingertips pinching into her skin so he had a good grip and she pressed her lips together tightly when he slowly hoisted her up.

Her shoulders stayed pressed against the tiles and Eddie pulled her leg until she took the hint and wrapped both legs around his hips so she was sitting on his torso. At least this way, if whoever came in happened to look down at their cubicle, they would only see one pair of legs and not two.

"Eddie?"

A light knock on the door made Eddie roll his eyes and tuck his face back into (Y/n)'s neck while her arms tightened around his shoulders. "What? Has the bell gone or something?" Eddie had never been in the shower when the bell sounded to signal a callout. But he guessed he would be able to hear it in here if it did sound.

"Not yet. Bobby wants to have a word with us all… like now. I haven't seen (Y/n), you know where she is?"

"Buck I'm in the shower, get lost and I'll find my wife when I'm done in here." Eddie tipped his forehead against (Y/n)'s neck so his voice didn't come out muffled.

But he couldn't help but groan as he dug his fingers into (Y/n)'s thighs and kept her pressed against the wall, trying to make sure she didn't slide down or make a noise. Evan might keep this a secret if he found out, but he might go and tell Bobby or tease them too, depending on what mood he was in.

"Alright, alright grumpy."

As soon as the shower door slammed closed, Eddie slumped his head back down onto (Y/n)'s shoulder and sighed. He pulled her chest tighter against his and gave her thigh a squeeze. They would have to get out soon before Evan went searching round the whole station and realised (Y/n) wasn't anywhere to be found.

"I think we'd better go get ready," (Y/n) murmured softly into Eddie's hair and she tangled her fingers at the back of his neck. Waiting for him to slowly untangle from her so they could move.

She felt his hand tighten around her thigh and he slowly pulled back and allowed (Y/n) to drop back down to her feet so he wasn't holding her on his hips anymore. His slid his hands up the expanse of her thighs until he was holding her hips and gave her another searing kiss while (Y/n) reached behind her and turned the shower off.

"Don't worry, we can pick this back up when we get home tonight."

(Y/n) tilted her head back into Eddie's shoulder and smiled as they made their way over towards the rest of the team who were lined up near the truck. They joined the procession line and (Y/n) leaned against Eddie's chest. Grinning to herself when she felt his arm curve around her waist so his hand could hold her hip.

Their eyes all locked on Bobby who was stood in front of them with his hands on his hips. Just as he went to say something, they all winced at the piercing sound of the alarm blaring through the air while the red lights started flashing.

Once the sirens finished, Bobby clapped his hands and looked over them all.

"Alright, I'll make this quick since we've got a call. The 178 station are three people down and they need some helping hands for the next few days. (Y/n), I want you to head over there since you're on a double today. Hen's shift finishes in two hours so I need Eddie and Chimney here as my medics. Then Buck you can go there tomorrow for your shift."

A jolt ran through (Y/n)'s heart and she felt her smile dampening, even as she nodded and tried to stay composed.

She didn't want to go to a different team.

One shift was far too long to be working with a completely different team, especially just for one day. (Y/n) would have to get to know them and get into their way of working just for today, they probably wouldn't let her help and she would be sat on the sidelines.

But she couldn't say no.

It wouldn't be fair for (Y/n) to decline and make Eddie go instead or have Evan go when his shift wasn't as long as hers. She and Eddie were on a double shift from last night until eight o'clock tonight. That was why she was going, so she could spend the majority of her shift at the 178 and help them out.

It made no sense to send anyone else when their shifts were going to be over sooner and Eddie was a medic, (Y/n) wasn't. Eddie needed to be here so they still had two medics on the A shift.

And (Y/n) couldn't ask her dad to change send someone else and risk people saying she got preferential treatment. It was hard enough with all the new starters in the 118 when they learned (Y/n) was both Bobby's daughter and Eddie's wife.

"Copy." (Y/n) mumbled quietly while she felt Eddie lean over and kiss the back of her head softly. He could feel the discomfort radiating off of her already.

"Hop in the truck, we can drop you off on the way to the next call."

At least she was getting a lift down there, and she felt Eddie lean down so his lips were hovering over the shell of her ear. "I'll pick you up tonight when we finish." Their shifts had lined up today so Eddie had drove them both here. He could easily swing by the other station and pick (Y/n) up tonight after they both finished.

Once Bobby nodded and motioned his hands towards them, they all hurried over to the lockers. (Y/n) could still feel Eddie glued to her back as they each grabbed their florescent jackets and slung them on before Eddie grabbed both their helmets and headed over to the truck.

(Y/n) liked the fact that their helmets and jackets were matching. They both had 118 printed in the middle, and across the bottom both their jackets said Diaz.

Before they got married, (Y/n)'s jacket had said Nash and one of the team had added 'ER' to the end so it read Nasher. That way it was easier to distinguish who was who when the team needed them on a call since Bobby's jacket read his name, not Captain like his helmet did.

But now (Y/n) had her forever name and she smiled at the feel of Eddie's hands on her hips when the moved to the truck.

He helped her up and climbed in after her, following as (Y/n) moved to sit next to the window on the far side. Chimney and Hen followed in after him and Evan climbed in the front to ride shotgun with Bobby. It was as if they were one big family going on a night out together and Evan, being the favourite child, got to sit up front with his dad.

(Y/n) pulled a headset down over her ears and shrank down into Eddie's side, wishing it was someone else who had to endure an uneasy shift with another team. Why did it have to be her?

It's just for one shift. Just one day. It'll go quick… right?

***

Whatever preconceptions (Y/n) had about joining this team for the day, she had been extremely wrong.

They didn't want to push her to the sidelines and make her watch or be a spare part. It was the exact opposite. Instead of pushing her out because she wasn't one of them, they pushed her forwards instead.

They gave her the jobs they didn't want to do or couldn't be bothered to do themselves.

Head through the burning bulding to shut off the electricity mains at the back? (Y/n) was volunteered. Squeezing down an old mine shaft to find a lost child? Captain McCall gave that job to (Y/n) before she had the chance to tell him she had claustraphobia.

Thank God it wasn't a long mine and the child was conscious and easily able to get back out with (Y/n)'s help.

Now someone needed to go up the ladder and get into the seventh floor of an apartment building to get a woman and child out. And that too was (Y/n)'s job.

She had never done so many odd, strange and straining tasks on the same shift in less than five hours.

And the whole team made it clear she wasn't one of them.

It was as if they were just letting her be here with them, letting her enjoy the experience of working with them. She was a child allowed to play amongst the big kids, but they didn't really want her here.

Can I go home yet? Is it eight o'clock yet so Eddie can come get me?

"This way, you're doing great." (Y/n) smiled behind her at the woman she was guiding down the ladder.

She could feel the woman's head pressing into her shoulder and both hands were clutching (Y/n)'s arm through her jacket. She was afraid of heights and the way she clung to (Y/n) was the way (Y/n) would cling to Eddie whenever she was nervous or uneasy.

Reaching behind her, (Y/n) gave the woman's arm a squeeze before she reached her free hand in front of her to keep hold of the woman's little boy. She couldn't have either of them tripping down the ladder and hurting themselves in front of a team that didn't like or appreciate (Y/n). They might try and report her.

"There we go, Thompson will get you down to the ground safely."

The much taller man, Thompson, gave a curt nod and picked up the little boy while he beckoned the mother over to him.

She seemed reluctant to let (Y/n) go but finally obliged so (Y/n) could unbuckle herself from the safety rope connected to the ladder.

"Alright Diaz, Eddison let's go. Move."

(Y/n) looked across at Eddison who was working on reeling the ladder back down so they could sort out. All they had to do now was make sure the fire was completely out and ensure everyone was on their way to the hospital. The Captain had already talked to the building manager and started to sort things out.

Something sparked.

(Y/n) wasn't sure what it was. Whether it was the mechanism that wound the ladder back in or whether a wire came loose and tripped the electrics, (Y/n) didn't know.

But she knew whatever it was had sent sparks flying out in every direction and had Eddison jumping back when a few volts surged through his hands.

"Christ!" He stumbled back, crashing down on his backside with one hand clinging to the ladder to stop himself falling off the top of the truck.

His weight and force barrelled into (Y/n)'s legs and swept them from beneath her faster than she could react. Her arms flailed out at her sides and a scream burst past her lips when she slipped over the side of the truck. It felt like flying for all of a second before the ground was beneath her and her body plummeted down to a forceful stop.

(Y/n)'s arms coiled into her chest and she landed on her left side with such a bang that all the air left her lungs and he saw stars. Black and white dots sparkled before her eyes and everything spun in circles around her head like she was sat on the waltzers with Chris.

Her heartbeat pulsed through her chest that was quaking up and down against the concrete and after a few seconds, a strangled gasp bubbled past her lips as her lungs finally shocked back into rhythm.

"Diaz… jeez, alright let's get you up."

(Y/n) wasn't sure who it was that leered over her. All she knew was that she was in too much pain and shock to want to get up. And when a hand grabbed her wrist and roughly yanked her up to her feet, (Y/n) all but screamed.

She wobbled back and forth, stumbling back three paces until the man in front of her held her by the shoulders with such a tight grip it felt like he was going to squeeze her like a balloon until she popped. He kept hold of her until she was no longer swaying on her feet and her body was finally being held up by her legs that had turned to jelly.

Why did he drag her up? Couldn't he see that the air had been knocked out of her? Why didn't he just let her recover for a few seconds first? Couldn't he have checked her over before he got her up, what if she had broken her leg or her ankle?

Tears burned down (Y/n)'s face like acid rain and she sniffed, drawing in a deep breath as her head clouded over.

She moved her right hand to try and delicately touch her chest, but even her fingertips grazing over her side made her whimper and sent her knees buckling. She had broken her ribs. She could feel it. Her chest was aching and throbbing and (Y/n) was sure if she took her jacket off she would see her ribcage throbbing with her heartbeat.

"You okay Diaz?"

It was Eddison. He climbed down from the truck and waved his hands back and forth to shake out the pins and needles he'd gotten.

"Ribs… ribs b-broken." She wheezed, unable to draw in a proper breath which left her body stumbling back until she slumped against the truck to prop herself up.

"Captain, Diaz got an injury." Eddison was the only one out of the team who didn't seem annoyed or phased by (Y/n) being on their team today. He was the only one who made an effort to talk to her and right now, he was the only one with sorrow in his eyes and concern etched onto his face.

Thompson, who had dragged her to her feet- something (Y/n) knew none of the trained medics on her own team would have done- just huffed and looked her up and down like she was causing a big fuss over nothing.

She had fallen. Her ribs were surely broken or in the very least, fractured. She could barely breathe and she felt like she was going to pass out.

Did no one in this team care if someone got hurt? Did they all have super healing powers like Wolverine? Could they continue with broken bones like it was a sprain? Well (Y/n) wasn't like that. She was human, she was in agony and she felt like she could barely breathe. She needed someone to see if her ribs were broken and help her.

She needed her team. She needed Eddie. He was the only one who (Y/n) would let assess her when she was injured or unwell. She wanted her husband here so he could check her over and see if she was okay.

Panic burst to life in (Y/n)'s chest when Captain McCall stood a few feet in front of her and Eddison.

He looked them both up and down, scrutinising and assessing them while he glared through narrowed eyes. His gaze made (Y/n) feel like a child or a weakling who had done something wrong. She knew if she were back on her own team, they would have been more understanding and forgiving and concerned. And not just because her dad was her Captain. Bobby was fair, he didn't favouritise and he cared greatly when anyone on his team was injured.

"You're clearly up and moving, you'll be fine. Everyone back in the truck, let's go."

Shrugging his shoulders, Eddison lowered his head and gave (Y/n) a sorrowful look before he turned and heaved into the truck, groaning a she did so.

Was that it? She didn't get checked out or assessed or even get the chance to talk to a medic? She was just glared into like the Captain had X-ray vision and deemed fit and capable to work. To Hell with the tears pouring down her face. Who cared that she could barely breathe? What did it matter that she was in mass agony and couldn't stand up straight?

"C- can't I see a medic?" Ragged breaths escaped her lips as she tilted her head back into the truck and looked across at Captain McCall who she felt very uneasy with.

But the way he clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes made (Y/n) shiver and she knew undoubtedly that she wasn't going to get any help or compassion from anyone on this team.

"Your hubby isn't here to coddle you today and if you're gonna try and follow my team, Diaz, you need to toughen up. Now all of you, get in the truck. Let's move."

Tremors coursed through (Y/n)'s chest and she bit down on her lip to stop the tears from falling. Why did showing she was in pain mean she was weak or useless or any different? What good would it do to be stoic and pretend she could handle anything when she couldn't? Hiding pain would only prolongue her suffering and make her injuries worse if she didn't get them seen to.

But there was nothing (Y/n) could do. This wasn't her team, they had all made that very clear. No one was going to help her if the Captain thought she was being pretentious.

Her right arm bound around her chest and she leaned forward, coiling over to try and reduce the pain in her chest every time she took a breath. Her body leaned to the left and she used the door to propell herself up into the truck.

She slumped down into the seat next to the window, making herself as small as possible. Shrinking away from the others as they all climbed in and started talking about what they would be eating later on for tea at the station.

(Y/n) wasn't going to be with them for that.

She wasn't staying on this team any longer.

She wanted to go back to the 118; to her home.

Her arms stayed cocooned around her chest that was pulsing and pounding and she leaned her head against the window.

It hurt to keep her eyes open and she tried to focus on the passing scenery rather than look at the four other people in the back of the truck with her who were all staring at her every few seconds.

They thought she was weak. They thought she was being a hypochondriac or making this up. They thought she was weak and she was complaining about a few little bruises. She was one of them. (Y/n) was a firefighter, she had been in a few accidents over the years, she had dealt with broken bones and burns and concussions. And each of them had hurt and blinded her with pain. She knew her ribs were broken and she needed them tending to.

As soon as the truck pulled up in the station, (Y/n) flung the door open and flung herself down. Her arms bound tighter to her chest, her body coiled over and leaned forward and she pushed herself to walk down the station and head towards the locker room.

It was empty. (Y/n) couldn't have been more thankful that no one was in there and that no one else followed her into the room.

She headed over to the single locker on the far right. The spare one with no tape across the top and no name scribbled across. It took a lot of effort to shrug off her jacket and she whimpered, chomping down on her lip to make sure she didn't make a sound.

Ruffling through her bag, (Y/n) found her phone and shuffled backwards. She eased herself down onto the bench, swallowing a groan at the shockwaves that rattled up her chest.

She didn't think before she clicked on her dad's contact and pressed the phone to her ear.

She needed help. She couldn't stay here any longer. She wanted to go home to her family.

"Hey sweetheart, how's it going over there? God, we could of used you're referee skills this morning."

He answered. (Y/n) could of fainted with relief when she heard his voice. They were all at work, it wasn't always easy to answer phone calls when they were on shift. At least something was going right today.

The sound of her dad's voice made a tidal wave of tears flush down (Y/n)'s face. She leaned forward, keeping her right arm pinned to her chest as she clamped her lips together and swallowed down a cry. The last thing she wanted to do was cry down the phone to her dad, but she couldn't seem to help it.

"Dad, c- can you help me?" The way she hiccupped through her words made (Y/n) hang her head and scold herself.

Was she being silly? Was she being a child, asking her dad to help her and come get her? Should she just try to put on a brave face go finish the ret of the shift? Could she even finish this shift with broken ribs? With the way this team was throwing her in the deep end, another call might just finish (Y/n) off, and not in a good way either.

"Help you? Sweetheart what's wrong, where are you?" Concern flooded Bobby's voice as his free hand moved to his hip and frown lines appeared on his face.

Why did his daughter need help? She was with another team, she should be surrounded by people there who were willing and able to help her with whatever situation she was in. Did she not feel comfortable asking them for help? What kind of problem was she having?

Was she even still at the 178 station?

"At the station… I think I- I think I've broke my ribs. Dad it hurts, can I c-come back?"

The sob at the end of her words made Bobby's skin crawl and his lips curled in distaste. He lifted his head and looked through his office window just as Evan and Eddie walked by.

Moving across the room, Bobby slammed his fist down on the window three times until the pair of them looked over at him. "Eddie." He pointed to the door before turning his back to the window, silently telling his son in law to get in the office with him.

"Cap?" Eddie gave a worried look across at Evan before he closed the door behind him and stuffed his hands in his trouser pockets. He stood next to Bobby with an arched brow, his attention focused on the phone in his hand as he tried to listen and work out who was on the other end of the line.

"(Y/n)'s had an accident…" Bobby pulled the phone away from his ear and put in on speakerphone. He held the phone between him and Eddie who was now tense with raised shoulders and snarling lips. "Sweetheart, what's happened? Hasn't Captain McCall gotten someone to take a look at you if they're broken?"

"Broken? What's broken? Baby what's happened?"

Eddie's hands slipped from his pockets and moved to hold his hips as his weight fidgeted from foot to foot. What had (Y/n) broken? What had she been doing on shift to get hurt?

He could feel a cold shiver crawling down his spine when he watched Bobby silently point to his chest. She'd broken her ribs.

"He said I… I should toughen up. I can't stay here, I w-wanna come back, I need to… I need Eddie to take a look." Whether she was at this station or back home at the 118, the only person (Y/n) would want to assess her was her husband.

She would have let one of the medics here take a look but she wouldn't of been happy with them trying to bandage her up. She wanted Eddie. Her personal medic.

"Toughen up- he told you to toughen up? Who the fuck does he think he is?!" Eddie's voice boomed down the line and made (Y/n) shiver and coil in on herself.

She had caused problems now.

She had riled up her dad and her husband. They weren't going to let this go. But she couldn't find the will to care or focus on that anymore. She needed them to come down and get her, she had no way of getting back to her own station house and she couldn't walk or bus it. She needed her family.

"We're gonna come and get you sweetheart, alright? We're coming down right now."

***

Eddie could feel the nerves radiating off of Bobby and multiplying his own as the team climbed down from the truck and stormed through the open doors of the 178 station.

But his anger started to overpower his panic when he looked around and suddenly caught sight of a familiar figure.

If (Y/n) had broken or in the very least, damaged her ribs, why hadn't someone sat her down and tried to take a look at her? Why could Eddie see his wife struggling to stock one of the trucks?

He could see the way she was leaning to the left with her shoulders and upper chest leant forward like she had an oxygen tank weighing down on her shoulders. The pain was evident on her face in the way she closed her eyes and how her cheeks sucked in and her lips pursed when she tried to push something up into the truck.

She shouldn't be moving or lifting anything if she had hurt herself, she needed to sit down and rest.

Reaching to the left, Eddie patted Bobby's arm and pointed towards (Y/n) before he jogged over in her direction.

Eddie could feel Bobby hot on his heels and the rest of the team following swiftly. None of the team were sure why they were here. Evan was under the impression they were here to help with a bigger call out, but Hen and Chimney noticed the way Bobby had gone mute and wasn't focusing on what they were saying. something wasn't right.

"Baby,"

(Y/n) coiled her arms round her chest and snapped her head to the right when a familiar voice caught her attention.

Tears welled up in her eyes when Eddie stormed over to her. She looked around the station, relieved no one in this team were paying any attention or looking in this direction. She didn't want them to know she had called her team for help. (Y/n) wanted to climb back into the 118 truck and head back home before anyone knew she had gone. She wanted to disappear.

Her weight pushed onto her back foot when Eddie barrelled over to her. His hands curled around her arms and he moved her a few feet away from the truck so he could look at her.

"Can we go? Can I come back?"

Her words made Bobby wince. It was almost as if she thought he had sent her here as a punishment and she was begging to come home. This hadn't been done to hurt her. Bobby thought this station would treat her equally and look after her like they looked after all their own. Clearly he had misjudged this station entirely.

"Not until Eddie's checked you over and I've had a word with the Captain."

"Dad, please…" (Y/n) shook her head but she gasped when Eddie moved her arms so she was holding them out at her sides.

She didn't have the will to do anything but stay compliant as Eddie dug his fingers down into her waistband and pulled her shirt from her trousers. Her head tilted back and her lips rolled together tightly as Eddie scrunched up her shirt until it was bunched up just beneath her bra, allowing him a clear view of her chest.

His fingertips were firm but somehow still gentle as they trailed up and down her chest. He pressed down on each rib on her left side, taking note of when and where (Y/n) winced, coiled away from him and how she wheezed and gasped when he applied pressure.

He rubbed his fingertips in circles, pressing down on her ninth and tenth ribs which seemed to act as a button to make (Y/n)'s knees cave and had her body jolting down to the right.

"Three are definitely broken and there's a lot of swelling. She needs an X-ray and an MRI."

Eddie didn't want to take any chances. He needed (Y/n) to have an X-ray to check if the breaks were clean and if she had more than one break in each rib. He could see the way (Y/n) was wheezing and that could be a sign that her ribs were broken inwards towards her lungs. He couldn't take the risk of her getting a collapsed lung or breathing into her chest cavity. They had to be safe.

"Baby what happened?"

"I came off the ladder, Eddison collided with me… I fell off the truck-"

"You fell of the top of the truck? Why the fuck didn't someone take you to the hospital?!"

Eddie's hands moved down and gripped (Y/n)'s hips so fiercely he pulled her off balance. Her hands moved to his shoulders and she leaned forward, burrowing her face into the crook of his neck so she didn't have to look at any of them anymore. She didn't want her family to look at her the same way this team had.

"Get her in the truck; she's coming back with us. Where's McCall?" Bobby's hands clenched into fists at his sides and he turned on his heels and stormed past the truck.

His eyes scanned the station as he headed towards where he presumed the Captain's office would be. But he didn't have to search far before a familiar face came into view. He watched McCall waltz across the station floor, clipboard in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other that Bobby wanted to throw at him to gain his attention.

"McCall." His voice shouted dominance and assertiveness while he stormed over to the shorter captain and stood head to head with him. Looking down with arched brows and upper lip curled in distain.

"Nash, what're you doing here? We already got the replacement you sent across this morning."

"I'm here to take her back because she's got seriously injured on your watch. So tell me why you haven't gotten her seen by a medic or taken her to hospital already?"

"Did she call you?" The way McCall leaned around Bobby to try and look for (Y/n) set off a fire burning within Bobby and it made Eddie take a deep breath, supressing a growl. Of course she called them. She needed help and she had every right to call her family when no one here was looking out for her or taking care of her when she was ill.

(Y/n) trailed her hands down from Eddie's shoulders to curl both her arms tightly around his bicep. She leaned into him, despite the pain it caused in her chest and the lack of breath it caused.

"Do your people understand the chain of command? She got knocked down, but she was fine and she got back up. I can't afford to take all my guys down to the emergency room when they get a bruise. My team know how to look after themselves-"

"And my team know if they're hurt, they can rely on me to make sure they're okay. I do not call three broken ribs and extensive swelling as being fine and I sure as Hell don't accept you denying one of my team medical attention because of your uneducated opinion."

"Broken? Come on she was exaggerating."

(Y/n)'s arms coiled to her chest and she took a step towards Hen when Eddie suddenly pulled away from her. She felt Hen's hands move to her arms and she glued herself into her friend, flinching at all of their reactions.

She could see her dad doing his level best to keep his composure, something Eddie was finding very hard to do. While Chimney stuffed his hands into his pockets and shook his head with a grimace. And Evan huffed, nose crinkling as his jaw dropped in disbelief.

"Why don't we break your ribs and see how long you can last on shift?"

"Eddie…"

"Disrespect my wife like that again and you'll be the one needing an X-ray. I don't give a fuck if your helmet says Captain, you sure as Hell don't act like one."

He would start throwing fists if this man or anyone else in this God forsaken station said anything about (Y/n).

She was a damn good firefighter and she had been injured on duty, she didn't deserve to be berated and disrespected like this. She deserved compassion and understanding and to be taken seriously. There was no doubt that she had been hurt badly today and she needed to take time off from work now to recover. She didn't need to be forced to continue working and make herself worse.

(Y/n) shouldn't have to call her family down here to help her and stand up to this team because she was hurt. This wasn't fair on her.

"I'm taking my daughter back to my station, where my team will assess her and take her to the emergency room. You can expect a call from the Chief first thing in the morning when I file a complaint of discrimination and misconduct." Bobby turned to the side and pointed at his team. "Everyone in the truck."

His head snapped back over his shoulder to look back at McCall when he heard a quiet "Your daughter?" echo behind him.

So he truly didn't know. With (Y/n)'s name being changed to Diaz, not many people in the other stations knew she was related to Bobby. Sure, some people knew. Others just knew Bobby had his daughter on his team. But they didn't interact or converse with other stations a lot other than when they met on the job or at big parties.

Bobby hadn't said anything, he never did just in case someone tried to treat (Y/n) any differently or give her a harder time. Clearly, this team had heard she worked with her husband on her team, but they didn't know she was the Captain's daughter.

"Didn't I mention that?" Bobby tossed over his shoulder without looking back as he moved towards the truck.

(Y/n) rolled her lips together and moved her hands to hold Eddie's arm again and pull it into her chest. She felt Hen's hands stay on her shoulders as they walked in a small line towards the truck. She had never been so happy to see the 118 truck, ready to take her back to her proper home, with her family.

It hurt to heave herself up into the truck and she couldn't help but whimper when she slumped down into a seat. But something sweet formed on her lips when Eddie sat down next to her.

She watched him lean over her, pressing his lips to her temple in the process as he grabbed her belt and carefully clipped it round her, trying to be mindful of her chest. Once done, Eddie looped his arm around the back of her shoulders, grazing his fingertips up and down her arm as he tucked her into his chest and smothered his lips against the back of her head.

Once they were all seated and Bobby started the truck, (Y/n) looked around her team. Her family.

She had Hen on her right, Eddie on her left and Chimney and Evan sat in front of her with calming smiles and nothing but comfort and understanding pooling in their eyes.

"I'm sorry you had to come back and get me." She murmured quietly, tilting her head down until her chin tucked into her chest.

She felt so embarrassed. She felt so childish, calling her dad to come and get her and sort things out for her, but it had been (Y/n)'s only choice. She felt like a child being picked up from school when her team came to get her, but she had also never felt safer than when Eddie and her dad turned up and the rest of her team clearly had her back, whether they agreed with her or not.

"You kidding? You think we'd leave you there after what they've just done? You're part of this team, not theirs. We'll look after you." Leaning across, Chimney patted her knee and nodded at her with a comforting smile.

"Nobody is going back to that station- or any other station, for that matter. We stay here with each other."

Bobby's voice was authoritive and firm and not up for debate. He wasn't allowing any more swaps or shift changes. If other stations were low, they would have to deal with it themselves. He wasn't risking the safety of his team to help other stations that clearly didn't appreciate or care about the staff members that came to their station to help.

"What's our motto?"

A soft grin formed on (Y/n)'s lips as she leaned her head on Eddie's shoulder and tucked her face into his neck.

"Who cares?"

#eddie diaz x reader #911 imagine #imagine #evan buckley #bobby nash #eddie diaz imagine #eddie x reader #eddie diaz

[flamingpudding]

Son from a doomed timeline

A/N: Based on this idea I have written about once... I might add on more later on...

Chronus watched how this timeline moved more and more towards its own doom. One of the key reasons for the destruction of this timeline was one of its heroes falling deeper and deeper into his mental decline. He watched on how the boy continuously failed in his attempts of cloning his loved one.

He watched how the boy's mentality continued to destabilize just like all the failures he created. This time line was not looking good, it would soon become another one of the doomed ones. It would be one of many that would cease to exist soon enough. The Ancient of Time turned his attention to a different timeline, it was too bad he had had his hopes up for this timeline. That this one could be the one, but now it was just another doomed one.

His attention was now on a different timeline of the same dimension. This one looked more promising. Maybe this line would finally produce the Ancient of Balance they were still missing in their ranks. The window of the timeline he had just turned his back on flashed and Chronus turned towards it stunned, floating closer and looking at the doomed timeline once more.

The boy had created another clone but this time successfully. It was stable, there was a little clone baby, and it contained the DNA of the boy as well as the one he intended to clone. That boy had succeeded in creating a stabilized clone after hundreds of failed attempts. Chronus eyed the baby before his eyes widened.

There was the potential he had seen in this timeline.

That wasn't just a simple clone baby. Many different scenarios flashed before his inner eye. Possibilities that could happen and in one of them he saw it. The creation of a budding little Ancient of Balance. The one missing in their ranks needed to keep the fine line between all their dimensions in tackt. But he also saw possibilities that all resulted in this baby's death.

Well that was if Chronus left this child in this timeline.

He looked over his shoulder towards another time window, one he had started to favor. One where for the first time in a long while a young mage had attempted to make a contract with him. If it were the ancient times he would have laughed into that young mortal's face and stirred the timeline in the direction of doom out of pettiness.

But things had changed since then. He eyed the little baby once more before making a decision. Reaching into the timeline he removed the baby and erased all traces of it ever coming into existence in that place. Sure this meant that this timeline lost its last hope of continued existence but this was for the greater good. Even if this sped up the mental decline of the father of this clone child, but it wouldn't matter, the creation of an Ancient of Balance took more importance than this timeline.

The little boy looked up at him with big blue eyes and Chronus smiled. A human with one fourth kryptonian heritage. This would be perfect, the child's body would be tougher than a normal humans yet he had not inherited enough to gain anything more than a little bit of super strength and a sturdy body that could withstand death and revival several time. As he turned towards his currently favorite timeline he closed his eyes for a brief moment and let all possibilities for this child pass through his inner eye.

"The future of one that will die is now yours to take." He whispered as he opened his eyes just in time to notice the summon of the young mage. Well that young man would still not get a contract with him but he would offer the man a deal. This would ensure the creation of an Ancient of Balance as well as ensure the reassurance of the timelines safety the young mage was seeking. And in time, this child would even be able to reconnect with the one that gave him life in another timeline and heal wounds his family weren't aware existed.

He smiled one more time down at the baby before letting himself get summoned by the young man, with the baby in hand.

#danny fenton #danny phantom #dp x dc #dpxdc #dcxdp #crossover #tim drake #conner kent #clockwork the ghost #john constantine #Danny is original from a different timeline #he got planted into the one he grew up in to become the Ancient of Balance #Danny is Tim and Conner's Clone created by Tim #well created by a Tim that lost all his marbles #clockwork shenanigans #This might be a prelude for more to come #Clone Danny #timkon #unedited #no beta we die like danny

[coloursflyaway]

Good Enough

Pairing: Edwin Payne/Charles Rowland

Rating: T

Word Count: 4.000

Read on AO3

So, Edwin is in love with him.

Edwin loves him, and Charles genuinely never even considered the possibility of this, of them, before.

It might be because, back when he was still alive, his dad would have beaten the notion right out of him, but then again, his dad has been wrong about most things in his life, so fuck him.

So, Edwin is in love with him.

It’s… quite flattering, actually. To think that Edwin, who is beautiful and intelligent and educated, who can recite his favourite Keats poem by heart just as easily as tell you his favourite Mozart aria (it’s Konstanze, dich wiederzusehen from Die Entführung aus dem Serail, Edwin told him that, years ago), who knows spells and can read ancient Aramaic, who is the kindest, most brilliant person Charles has ever known, would love him.

Now, Charles knows that he is easy enough on the eyes, good with words and people, and has one hell of a swing if you give him a cricket bat, but the only reason he knows any Mozart aria is because Edwin showed them to him.

The only reason he knows Keats’ poetry is because Edwin would read them to him on slow, warm summer nights in the early 2000s.

The only reason he is here, is because Edwin let him stay.

So, it’s special, having someone like Edwin love him.

It’s fucking terrifying.

Because Charles is now holding the heart of the person he loves most in the world, and it’s a bigger responsibility than any he has ever taken on before.

He can’t fuck this up.

The thing is that nothing changes between them at all.

Charles isn’t sure if he expected it to, but what he is relatively certain about is that it most likely should. After all, it was an unexpected revelation, probably to both of them, definitely a shift in their relationship.

And yet, when Charles looks at Edwin, who is reading a novel whose name he cannot make out, curled up on the couch they have gotten for Crystal (and sometimes Jenny), he doesn’t feel different at all.

It’s still Edwin, his best mate, the boy that read to him when he was dying so he wouldn’t have to do it alone, who tries to smile whenever Charles shows him a new song he has fallen in love with, and occasionally fails hilariously at, who Charles would protect with his life and his soul and his cricket bat, no matter how high the stakes.

I love you the most, Charles thinks to himself, and smiles, because nothing about that has changed, either.

He has told Edwin that they would have forever to figure out the rest, and it’s the truth, technically speaking.

However, Charles doesn’t, because it’s Edwin and he has given Charles his heart and he doesn’t deserve to wait that long for an answer. It would be cruel in a way Charles cannot comprehend, and if there is anyone who doesn’t deserve more cruelty in their existence, it’s Edwin Payne.

The only problem with that fact is that Charles doesn’t know the answer.

He’s been thinking about it a lot, but the thing is, he’s never been in love before.

So he doesn’t really know what to compare his feelings for Edwin to, because, of course, they are greater than for anyone else, of course, Charles would sacrifice anything and anyone for Edwin, especially himself, of course, making Edwin smile is his favourite part of any day.

Because he loves Edwin, everything about him.

But is he, could he be, in love with Edwin?

Charles doesn’t know, nor does he know how to find out. It’s not like he hasn’t tried, but every novel he has paged through, every silly romcom he has watched, has been talking about butterflies in someone’s stomach, of seeing them in some new, golden light, of hearing violins playing when they speak, and Charles very much doubts that Edwin feels any of those things for him.

Otherwise he wouldn’t raise his eyebrows like that when he thinks Charles is being an insufferable little prick, he wouldn’t roll his eyes and tell him, “I know, Charles, you have told me a thousand times before”, whenever Charles brings up how much he wishes he could still taste things, or groan whenever Charles attempts to convince him to just try and let him put on some eyeliner.

(It’s just that Edwin would look so pretty like that, some kohl to bring out the warmth of his eyes, making them stand out even more than they do anyway.)

So all this talk of violins and sparkles and the need to give someone roses, if Edwin doesn’t feel that when he says he is love with Charles, then it’s pointless to consider, and anyway, those books and films describe people who have just met, not those who have known each other for twice as long as they were alive.

Maybe if he had just met Edwin, he would be hearing violins, Charles definitely thinks it’s possible.

Especially the violins in Konstanze, dich wiederzusehen.

“I just need some time alone”, Crystal says, putting on her jacket, while already opening the door. “And I am aware that that is a novel concept for the two of you, since you are basically attached at the hip, but for me, an alive human being, it’s really important to occasionally have a second of peace between almost dying and whatever we will have going on next.”

She stops to put on her shoes, almost falling over in the process, and Charles and Edwin share a look, a smile, and Charles thinks, I love you the most.

“Don’t follow me”, Crystal tells them, especially Charles, and it’s kind of cute, actually. “I’m going to get the biggest frappuchino Starbucks is legally allowed to serve me and I will not tolerate any ghostly company while doing that.”

Charles holds up his hands, still grinning, indicating his surrender in a battle he wasn’t aware they were fighting, and Crystal gives him a single nod before she walks out.

“So”, Charles starts, and turns around to face Edwin, who is already looking back, “what do we think this frappuchino she was talking about, is?”

Actually, there is one thing that changes between them after all.

It’s subtle, at least at first, but looking back, Charles isn’t quite sure how he managed to miss it for the few weeks that have passed. Maybe it was the shock of almost being forced to move on to the afterlife, the chaos of getting Crystal and Jenny settled in London, the fact that it seems to increase only slowly, incrementally.

Edwin has never been a physically affectionate person, completely contrary to how Charles is.

If it had been up to him alone, he would have hugged Edwin much more often, would have leant against him when they were looking through a book together, would have held hands to keep them from losing each other when things got hectic. But it wasn’t, and that was fine, so it was occasional touches instead, a hand on Edwin’s upper arm, his back, ruffling his perfect hair when he was doing something kind of dumb, kind of cute.

(That one always made him duck his head and smile, glance up at Charles through his lashes and allow a second to pass before he started fixing his hair again.)

Now, however, it’s… it’s not getting better, because there was nothing wrong with it in the first place, Edwin’s aversion to physical affection, but it is changing now.

It’s less that he initiates it, more than he allows it to happen more frequently. Sitting down next to Charles on the sofa instead of taking the armchair, allowing Charles’ hand to linger on his arm for a moment longer than expected, letting their shoulders brush when walking.

He’s not asking to be touched, not really, but something about it still makes Charles irrationally happy as soon as he catches onto it. Because Edwin deserves all the affection the world can offer, and Charles will always be here to give it to him.

So he reaches out in the morning, when the sun has just started to rise, and puts his hand on the curve of Edwin’s shoulder, right where it meets his neck, and points out that the clouds are turning the most beautiful pink. He throws his legs across Edwin’s lap when they settle down on the sofa at night, a book in Edwin’s hands, the tablet Crystal made him buy in Charles’. He pushes his fingers through Edwin’s hair, not to ruffle it, but just to pretend he can feel its softness against his skin.

It makes Edwin duck his head again, give Charles a little smile when looking up, and Charles thinks, I love you the most.

And thinks, I want to love you the most in every way you will have me.

“Jenny, I have a question”, Charles starts as soon as he has phased through the walls of her new butcher shop. It’s to her credit that she hardly reacts; the first time he had done that, she had thrown a meat cleaver right through his head. “What do you know about love?”

Instead of a knife, Jenny just throws him a weary look, an eyebrow elegantly arched. It makes Charles think of being scolded by the headmistress, a sensation that should be much more unpleasant than it is.

“Nothing”, Jenny answers and brings her cleaver down with a dull thud, separating flesh from bone, before looking up at Charles again. “No one ever knows anything about love and if they try to tell you otherwise, they are lying.”

There is a certain sense of finality in her voice and Charles knows he has been dismissed, no detention this time, but don’t dare to push it.

“Great”, he mutters, more to himself than to Jenny, “that doesn’t help me at all.”

“You should look at this, Charles”, Edwin says and turns the book towards him.

It’s late at night, Crystal having long since gone home and they are sat on the sofa, shoulders touching while they do their research. A new case has come up, and Edwin is trying to learn more about ancient Celtic runes, while Charles is pouring over a map of London’s underground; now, he looks up and at the page Edwin is showing him.

“We could add this to your bat”, Edwin explains, “it’s a rune for physical strength. Supposedly, it doubles whatever force you put into a hit.”

“Edwin, mate, are you trying to tell me I need help with hitting people?”

Charles is grinning, obviously teasing, and Edwin just scoffs, rolls his eyes.

And that is what Charles means; this isn’t birdsong and candle light, this is just how they always have been. This is what makes them them, even.

“Charles, do be serious”, Edwin replies, but there is affection in his voice, there is love. “I am perfectly aware that you can hit things very well, but that doesn’t mean that hitting them even better wouldn’t be an advantage.”

“I know. This is brills”, Charles concedes, and on a whim, nothing more than that, presses a quick kiss to Edwin’s cheek.

For a moment, he almost expects Edwin to admonish him, because this isn’t exactly something that they do, but instead he stares at him, before he ducks his head; Charles isn’t sure how he knows this, but if Edwin could, he would be blushing.

And it does something to Charles’ head, the thought that he would be able to make Edwin blush. It makes him stop dead in his tracks, look at Edwin not like he is seeing him for the first time, but like he could be looking at him for the rest of his existence and not get bored of it.

“Do you wanna do the honours of carving it? Since you were the one who found the thing?”, he asks just to say something, aware that his voice sounds slightly off, and thinks, I love you the most. I love you the most. I love you the most.

“Very well done, Charles”, Edwin tells him and clasps a long-fingered hand on Charles’ shoulder, peering down at the leprechaun he knocked out clean with his bat a few seconds before.

The rune really makes it pack a punch.

“I don’t think this will pose any further problems”, Edwin continues even as he crouches down to examine the passed-out form crumpled on the ground. He prods at it gently.

“It fucking better”, Charles replies, resisting the urge to pull Edwin away from the leprechaun, just in case that touching it might have some kind of magical side effect. “And if not, I’ll punch it right back out. I’ve got an Edwin Payne-improved bat after all, it won’t stand a chance.”

Just for good measure, he twirls the bat around once, twice.

This has always been one of his favourite parts of the job, the simple pleasure of knocking someone out before they get the chance to hurt his friends.

Edwin looks up at him from where he is crouching, and Charles grins at him, metaphorical adrenaline running through his non-existent veins still. He would punch out a bear if Edwin asked it of him.

Before he can say anything else, though, Crystal clears her throat from behind him, sounding decidedly less impressed.

“That’s really cool, yeah. New bat, I get it”, she says, walking around Charles so she, too, can see the unconscious leprechaun. “But you do remember that we actually wanted to talk to him, right?”

They get to talk to the leprechaun in the end, who turns out to be about as obnoxious as expected, but does admit to stealing the heirloom they were looking for for his pot of gold.

He even gives it back, but only after Charles has started twirling his bat again.

“And another satisfied customer”, Charles comments as they return to the agency, flinging his backpack into the corner.

“Client, you mean”, Edwin corrects, but still smiles at him, and pats the space next to him as soon as he sits down on the sofa. Charles flings himself down without a second thought, legs landing somewhere across Edwin’s laps, one of his hands settling on Charles’ ankles.

This is new, at least to some extent, and Charles loves it, the feeling of Edwin’s fingers on him. It feels right, somehow.

I just really love you the most, he thinks.

“Yeah, whatever”, he concedes and looks over at Crystal, who is watching them with something in her eyes that Charles cannot quite place. Not bad, per se, just…. Strange. “Doesn’t sound that good though, does it? And anyway, the most important thing is that they’re satisfied, right? Passed on right to the afterlife, no worries keeping them here any longer.”

“As if it’s only worries that could keep one here”, Edwin replies, his tone as dry as the desert, but making Charles laugh anyway. “We should be the best example for that.”

“You know what I mean!”, he shoots back, “It isn’t like with us, is it? Don’t think that the client was kept back by meeting the love of their life, were they now?”

It spills from his lips like nothing, without Charles thinking about it for a single second.

He’s still laughing, but Edwin’s fingers have stopped where they were gently stroking across the arch of his foot, and then Charles realises it, and for the first time, hears silence.

For the first time since they got back from Hell, they part when Crystal leaves.

The conversation had been stilted after Charles’...slip up? blunder? confession? and although it had been obvious that all three of them had been trying, it had been impossible to get things back on track.

So, Charles leaves with Crystal, telling Edwin he will walk her home, although that is something he has never done before, and Crystal lets him, although he is fairly certain she wouldn’t under normal circumstances.

She doesn’t need anyone protecting her from the city she grew up in after all.

“How do you know you’re in love with someone?”, Charles asks after they have walked in silence for a few minutes. He can’t think of a way to cushion the question, how to make it less awkward to ask, so he doesn’t bother with it at all.

“This is about Edwin?”, she asks, seemingly to clarify, and Charles nods mutely, not looking up at her. “I’m not sure. Especially not when it comes to the two of you. For Edwin, I could have seen from miles away that he was in love with you, even if he hadn’t reacted like he did when we first met. For you… you love him, anyone with eyes could see that, but if you’re in love with him, I think you have to figure that out yourself.”

“Do you know how it feels, though? Being in love?”, he asks, just in case Crystal can at least tell him that.

“I’m not sure”, she answers after a moment, then links their arms together, pulling Charles closer. “I think that’s different for everyone. But I’m sure you’ll be able to figure out what it feels like to you if you let yourself.”

He walks Crystal home, but when she asks if he wants to stay, Charles just shakes his head.

Edwin is back at the agency, and Charles isn’t sure exactly in which state, what he is thinking, and Charles cannot allow that. At least not for long.

What he does, though, is taking a little detour to the park not too far from their building.

It’s the first time he really pays it any mind, even if it’s most likely not the first time he’s been there, but now, Charles lays down on the grass, looking up at the night sky.

London is too bright for him to see many stars, but there’s a few of them; Edwin would surely be able to point out a constellation or two.

And that’s the thing, isn’t it.

Edwin isn’t here, and yet he is with Charles anyway, always, in every moment of his existence.

Sighing, he scrubs a hand down his face. There’s no way around it, it has to be now, and it has to be the right answer, the one he truly means, because Edwin deserves nothing but that.

No false hope, and no heartbreak that might be taken back along the line.

So, he thinks of Edwin, of his elegant hands and the swagger in his walk when he feels confident, of the colour of his hair and of his eyes, of the curves and slopes and sharp cuts of his face.

He loves that face, has seen it with every possible expression painted across of it, and still loves it.

The stars above are dim and partly hidden behind the clouds, so Charles lets his eyes slip shut, and imagines coming home to the agency and taking Edwin’s hands in his.

They would be just a little smaller than his own, his fingers slender and yet so capable, and if he could still feel, Charles is convinced they would feel cool against his skin.

He imagines pulling Edwin close and holding him like he has always wanted to, burying his face against the side of Edwin’s neck and pretending he can breathe in his scent. Having Edwin sneak his arms around Charles’ waist and cling to the back of his jacket, like he doesn’t want to let go again.

In his imagination, it feels a little like the hug they shared after being granted asylum on Earth, but it would be entirely different, because it wouldn’t be out of relief.

Instead, it would be just them, embracing to feel the other close.

And he thinks of pulling back from the hug, seeing Edwin smile and kissing the curve of his lips, nipping at them until he can make Edwin laugh and teasing his mouth open to lick into it.

It would be like kissing Crystal, kind of, only that-

Only that it wouldn’t be like that at all.

He runs back to the agency, as fast as his spectral feet can carry him.

Edwin is sitting right where he left him, almost like he hadn’t moved an inch since Charles walked out of the door, and he hopes to all deities he can think of that it isn’t so; knows, at the same time, that it is.

“Hi”, Charles greets, because he doesn’t know what else to say, and Edwin nods and gives him a smile, brittle and unsure and hopeful, all at once.

“Hello, Charles. Did Crystal get home safe?”, he asks, and it’s so painfully polite it makes Charles cringe.

“Yeah. Yeah, sure, of course she did”, he responds, trying to figure out how to begin saying what he needs Edwin to know, but Edwin beats him to it.

“Did you mean it?”, Edwin asks, breathes out the question like he still has lungs to do so, and it’s in that moment that Charles is more certain of his answer than anything else he has ever thought, because Edwin sounds small, sounds vulnerable and breakable and yet so fucking hopeful, and Charles wants to pick him up and cradle him against his chest and never let go again.

“Yes”, he says, and it’s sunrise and violins and bouquets of roses all at once, it’s a single word that changes the world around them. “Kind of. Let me explain.”

And Edwin nods, sits back with his hands in his lap and all Charles can think about is that those same hands belong holding a book, resting on the top of Charles’ legs, which should be flung carelessly across Edwin’s lap, just because Charles wants to be near him.

“You’re the love of my life, no matter what”, he starts, crouching down in front of Edwin so he can take his hands; they look so lost. “You have been for decades. I love you the most of anything in the world. I will always love you the most. Every time I look at you, it’s just that on repeat in my head. I love you the most.”

He ducks his head, laughing softly, because it sounds silly now that he says it out-loud, but when he looks back up, there are tears brimming in Edwin’s eyes, making them shine even brighter.

His lips are parted and for just a moment, Charles thinks about kissing them.

“And you know, I still can’t say that I am in love with you back, because you don’t deserve a lie, but what I can say, what I can promise you, is that I could fall in love with you. And that I want to. More than anything.”

A single tear rolls down Edwin’s cheek, glistening in the dim light, and Charles looks at him, and thinks, I do. I am. I love you the most.

“Could that be enough?”, he asks, squeezing Edwin’s hands in his. “At least for the start?”

And Edwin nods so frantically that more tears spill over, wetting his face, and Charles can’t help but laugh; how strange to think that making Edwin cry for once is not his biggest fear, but something that fills his heart with joy to the point of bursting.

“Okay. Brills, that’s-”, he replies, and can’t keep himself from smiling so wide it would hurt if he was still alive. “So, um. Can I kiss you? I really want to kiss you right now.”

Again, Edwin nods, and he is smiling, too, looks so happy that Charles thinks heaven must be overrated, because nothing in the whole of existence could compare to this.

He thinks of the scene he pictured in the park of holding Edwin close and how much in pales in comparison to this, to holding Edwin’s hands and watching him glow with love and hope and warmth.

And leans in to find out if the same is true for kissing him.

(It is.)

#dead boy detectives #dead boy detective agency #dbd #edwin payne #edwin paine #charles rowland #painland #payneland #paynland #chedwin #charles x edwin #edwin x charles #i have written 10k for them now it has been 4 days since i watched the show #what is happening

[calaisreno]

The Case of the Reluctant Bridegroom

1077 words / Prompt: Awkward

John Watson is not a mystery. 

Thirty seconds after he comes through the door, Sherlock knows that he’s not been sleeping well, probably because he’s drinking every night, thinking that will put him out. Mary has a cat which needs to be groomed so it won’t leave hair all over John’s trousers. She’s not a fastidious housekeeper. John’s shoes tell him this: they’re still wearing last night’s mud. She didn’t mind him wearing them into the house, and he was too absent-minded to notice he’d left them on. And he’s lost almost half a stone since Sherlock returned. A happy husband-to-be doesn’t lose weight. Mary might be an awful cook, but John has never been picky about what he eats. 

Absent-minded, not sleeping, weight loss, drinking more than he used to. John is troubled, and Sherlock would like to know why. 

Naturally, he can’t ask. They’ve never done that kind of probing, not since Sherlock deduced his cane and his phone and his haircut. They hadn’t even been introduced at that point, and Sherlock could see who he really was.

The man standing at the door is easily deduced, but none of those deductions explain what’s wrong. Any questions he asks will be awkwardly deflected.

The night Sherlock returned from the dead, John hit him. That’s something he certainly should have seen coming. John is a devoted man, and didn’t like having his devotion (his grief) mocked. 

Sherlock understands that, and regrets it deeply. His adventures in Serbia left him below par, or he wouldn’t have barged into that restaurant, thinking they would have a good laugh about his funeral. 

He understands the John who poured his heart out in the railway car, thinking they were going to die. And the John who was ready to kill him when he realised Sherlock had found the switch. He even understands why John didn’t hit him and walk away again, why he just shook his head when Sherlock said, killing me— that’s so two years ago. 

And this is the knot Sherlock must unwind: John blames himself. Everyone else has accepted Sherlock’s return, gotten past it, and moved on. It’s too long to be holding a grudge, John thinks, so he forgave Sherlock. But he’s troubled.

What does a man like John do with feelings? In that, he’s not so different from Sherlock. He declares them unimportant, non-existent, and pretends all is well. 

“Anything on?” John asks. 

Sherlock shakes his head. “Sorry, no. Dull as ditches. But I’m glad you’re here.”

John raises his eyebrows, frowns sceptically at his old chair. “Right. I suppose we haven’t seen much of each other. Sorry about that. Flu season, you know.”

“Of course. You’re well, though? And Mary?”

John blinks. He still hasn’t sat down. “Yeah. We’re fine. No problems.”

“I’ll make tea,” he says, “unless you’d like something stronger.”

“What’ve you got?”

He remembers the last time he opened the refrigerator. Better not do that while John’s here. “No beer. A half a bottle of Johnnie Walker Black.”

He pours them each a couple fingers, and watches as John settles into his chair. Settles is the wrong word. He ought to look familiar and comfortable sitting there, across from Sherlock. But he looks uneasy, like a man who is doing something that embarrasses him. 

What would embarrass John Watson? He’s an honourable man. He feels honour-bound to forgive Sherlock, but he’s still angry. He’s ashamed of his grief, of his anger. Sherlock was brilliant, as always, fooling everyone into thinking he was dead. Making a fool of John.

Sherlock has apologised. He did that as soon as he realised that John wasn’t just shocked, he was angry. Tricking John into forgiving him was more than a bit not good— but he knew that there had to be some way to get them beyond what neither of them could say. Talking wasn’t something they did; in their case it was useless. They just needed to get to the part where they were chasing criminals again. Back to before.

John refills his glass. Neither of them has thought of anything to say. He can see John’s eyes losing focus. 

“How are things—“ He breaks off, realising they’ve already covered non-specific pleasantries. “The wedding, I mean. The—“ he waves a hand vaguely, “the plans. I suppose there’s a lot to… erm… plan.”

“Mary’s got it all under control. I’m not sure why it takes nearly a year to plan something that’s twenty minutes of church, and then dinner.” John smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. He truly has the most expressive face, but he’s guarded now, uncertain. Troubled. 

“Well, if there’s anything I can do,” Sherlock begins. Again, he waves a hand vaguely.

“You?” John is smiling, but it’s an incredulous smile. “Plan a wedding?”

“I have a very organised mind.”

“And no tolerance for tedium,” John adds. 

“I’ll just… well, let me know if you need to escape. I’ll come up with a case.”

They lapse into silence again, and Sherlock imagines that it’s a slightly more comfortable silence. Not quite like 2010, but fine, in a different way from before. He remembers the silent breakfasts, both of them too sleepy after a late night to say much. Tea, toast, and John half-awake, his hair rumpled…

It’s too bad that a person can’t know in the moment when their lives are perfect.  That’s the tragedy of time, how perspective changes and we don’t realise we’re happy until we’re not. 

The two years he was gone barely seemed like two months. There were nights when he dreamed of Baker Street, wished for John’s company. On the whole, though, he was too busy surviving to think about how long it’d been. Not until he saw John’s picture, the horrible moustache, did it begin to sink in how long it had been. In the mind of John Watson, it must have seemed an eternity.

“I should go.” John stands and walks into the kitchen. Sherlock hears him rinse his glass and place it back in the cupboard. The bottle is empty, and Sherlock still hasn’t finished his first glass.

John stands at the door, looking at him for a moment, then nods and heads out. His feet are slightly unsteady on the stairs, Sherlock thinks. The front door shuts, and he’s alone.

In his mind, he’s opening a new file: The Case of the Reluctant Bridegroom. As always, his mind is already turning over solutions.

---

Maybe this one needs a sequel?

@totallysilvergirl @keirgreeneyes @lisbeth-kk @ninasnakie

#mayprompts2024 #bbc sherlock #johnlock #my fics

[blacknedsoul-blog]

Random Thought of the Day (VIII)

So, posh besties are finally canon, yay! Congratulations Annabel, you only had to die, get divorced, survive an assassination attempt and have about 4 or 5 mental breakdowns to make one (1) friend, that is progress! Hopefully the next one will take less effort.

That said, there are two things I want to dwell on here.

I should like to by your friend and Could we be friends?

This is not the first time we've seen Annabel ask or tell someone outright that she wants to be friends. It's the second.

Yes, Lenore is not only Annabel's wife, but -possibly- her first proper friend. And it's really interesting because these scenes show you two really different sides of her, even though it's a similar situation.

When she meets Lenore, Annabel comes across as a very confident person, full of confidence and absolutely charming. She is formal but approachable and straightforward about her intentions: "We can help each other".

On the other hand, at this point, Annabel is keeping the reasons she wants this friendship to herself, she seems nervous -even a little uncomfortable- and behaves much more awkwardly. She hesitates, chokes on words, doesn't quite know if what she's doing is appropriate.

If I had to think of reasons for this contrast, there are two.

First: Annabel when she has time to plan vs. when she has to improvise. She went looking for Lenore, probably had at least an entire night to think about what kind of person this mysterious woman locked in the attic might be and how to approach this conversation. On the other hand, this conversation with Prospero had to be pulled out of her sleeve after a lot of emotionally complicated moments, maybe it didn't occur to her that this conversation could actually happen, and she has no plan B if Prospero rejects the offer.

On top of that, Annabel knows better than anyone the risks of getting attached to someone in Nevermore.

Second, that the scene with Prospero functions in some way as a reflection of Annabel's feelings when she first meets Lenore: there's no reason to believe she was any better equipped to enter into a relationship with anyone at that point in her life than she is now. But in this scene, we -and Lenore- see what Annabel wants to show, the parts of herself that she may find most attractive or pleasing. Here, Prospero gets a glimpse of her awkward and uncomfortable side, and I'd bet that awkwardness was present in that first meeting with Lenore, it's just that she had a chance to think about it, rehearse it, and thus hide those sides of her character as well.

The thing that makes me think of it that way is this:

Annabel's first gesture to Lenore is to shake her hand, which she also mentions here:

She still doesn't remember doing it, but the idea behind it is more or less the same: Annabel associates this kind of formality with friendly or amicable gestures; a mixture of business dealings and affectionate promises.

Again, the same intention, but with a very different performance. One that makes me wonder what exactly her thoughs when she went to see Lenore.

The Introvert Who Adopts and the Extrovert Who Is Adopted

Another thing that got me thinking about this whole thing is that so far we've seen Annabel -a very introverted person- be the one to take the first step in getting into a relationship with someone: she's the one who asks the question.

The funny thing is that even though Lenore is an extrovert, it was the other way around, she never took the initiative to start a relationship with anyone: Annabel came to see her, Morella is her assigned roommate, Duke came to talk to her, Pluto was won in a Pokémon swap (and she didn't choose him, Ada threw him under the bus), and Eulalie and Bernice approached her first.

I can see why this would happen from Annabel's side; she's a person who moves in the shadows, someone who lives by appearances and isn't afraid to manipulate or deceive to get her way. Under this premise, explicitly telling the people she cares about that this is an honest relationship feels like something even necessary for the sake of the relationship and her own mental health.

But in thinking about why this is happening to Lenore, and going back and reading chapter 22 to do this little analysis, I remembered this scene:

And…I don't know about you, but I think I'm going to pin this one. For now.

#nevermore webtoon #annabel lee nevermore #lenore nevermore #white raven #annabel lee whitlock #lenore vandernacht #Prospero Nevermore #posh besties #I like to think that Lenore found the traits Annabel wanted to show attractive #but fell in love with her silly and awkward side #the one Annabel wants to hide

[screamingatanemptyroom]

The Healer Pt 4

The story continues. I'm still enjoying this one, so we'll keep going!

Part 1 / 2 / 3 linked here. (If I get to 5+ parts I'll make a master post)

Enjoy!

___________________________

ONE YEAR EARLIER

“Natalie! You’re here!”

Jack shouted with excitement when he saw me. Garrett and Rita trailed behind him, their expressions happy, if a bit mild and unenthused. I was still sitting on the ground, catching my breath after my first battle in this strange world. The corpses of the monster flowers had faded into the grass, leaving little evidence of my fight behind. I waved to them, feeling a strong sense of relief in seeing familiar faces.

The three of them had been my teammates in Fantasy Realm, even if they weren’t the kindest people I had ever known. While playing together they were often inpatient with me, unforgiving of mistakes, and constantly pushing me to spend more time and money improving my character when they knew I had very little of both. I had always given in, and disliked myself for doing so, hoping it would improve their opinion of me, knowing deep down it wouldn’t. I might call them friends… and I would be shocked if they called me the same.  But after waking up in this weird real world of the game, I was just happy to know anyone at all.

I was afraid to be alone.

The group reached me, and with a grin, Jack reached out and helped me to my feet. I brushed the dust off of myself and looked them over. They all looked like they had in our old world, the only difference was their clothing. Jack was dressed in leather armor, reinforced my metal along the chest and back. Garrett had a large sword strapped across his back, with scant coverings over the rest of his enormous frame. Rita had a simple cloth robe and a large wooden bow.

“We all chose our familiar classes.” Jack saw my studying look and informed me. “Seemed the safest thing to do given that we don’t know what happens if you die in here.”

Rita rolled her eyes. “I can’t believe you guys are taking this seriously! This can’t be real. We're still in the game! It’s just some hoax, someone hacked the game. Eventually my dad will tear the VR company apart, sue them into oblivion and then we’ll be let out!”

I paused at that. “We weren’t playing the game when this happened though.”

“We just forgot.” She answered forcefully, her gaze annoyed as usual as she met my own.

Rita had always disliked me. Our parents knew each other, her father was a well-known lawyer who had pushed her to follow in his footsteps. As someone who had struggled with the weight of parents’ expectations, I sympathized. But she had quit law school after a week, turning to full time gaming instead. She didn’t do well enough to make any money, but fortunately her mother paid her bills.

Her father was disapproving to say the least. He apparently used me as an example to her of someone successfully “taking over the family business,” never mind that I hated the pressure, resented my parents’ strict expectations and escaped whenever possible. It didn’t matter. Rita despised me, and no attempts from myself or from Jack could smooth the rift between us.

Garrett looked me over from head to toe, confused. “You don’t have a weapon.”

I froze at his words. Garrett had a large sword, obviously a barbarian type class. Jack had a one-handed sword, a fighter or swordsman. Rita was an archer with her bow. But me…

There was only was class in the game that couldn’t use weapons.

“No…” Rita started laughing, so hard that tears were forming in her eyes. “No… you DIDN’T do something so STUPID….!”

Garrett was shaking his head, frowning disapprovingly. I ignored them, my entire attention was on Jack. We had been friends since freshman year of college. He had helped me find my first class, I tutored him in chemistry. We had supported each other through ups and downs, told each other about our fears and dreams…  

And he was looking at me with hatred in his eyes.

“You are a Healer.” His voice was quiet, but the lack of emotion in his tone made my hackles raise. I started to back away.

“Jack… I…”

His hand gripped my throat, and I was lifted off the ground. I gasped, unable to get air, and struggled against him, but with a strength stat of -10 I knew there wasn’t much hope. I wouldn’t be able to cast my healing spells either, without being able to speak the activation word.

I need to be able to cast without speaking. My brain focused on that, almost desperately avoiding dealing with the situation I was currently in: My friend was killing me.

**The Healer enters an early hypoxic state - 10 damage for each second that airway compression remains in place. **

**The Healer takes 10 damage. **

I had only seconds to live.

** The Healer takes 10 damage**

I grabbed his hand, focusing all my desperation into the need to cast my only spell: Small Incision.

** Through sheer force of will, The Healer has discovered Wordless Incantation**

**The Healer casts Small Incision. Jack the Hero takes 1 damage.**

As the messages floated across my vision, Jack yelped in pain, clutching his bleeding hand, dropping me to the ground. I laid still for a few moments, focusing on breathing, the pain of my neck and in my lungs a reminder of what had just occurred. I stared up at Jack, hoping to see remorse on his face.

There was nothing but rage.

“How DARE you pick a useless class like healer?” He snarled, holding pressure on his hand to stop the bleeding while staring down at me. “Our lives could depend on doing well in this game, and you seriously chose a class with minimal fighting potential, whose healing abilities are worse than any potion that can be purchased in a shop?”

He stepped closer, and I flinched back, my heart beating wildly. “You are so obsessed with your parents’ disapproval, that even in a life-or-death situation you had to pick being a doctor? Are you really so messed up?”

I opened my mouth to explain. I knew this class well, the strengths and weaknesses. I could use it to the team’s benefit. I had been a good teammate, one of the reasons we had placed so highly in the last tournament. I wanted to say all this and more.

But as I stared into the disappointment in his eyes, I felt myself slipping into old habits. Of staying quiet and nodding. Of keeping the peace and letting myself take the blame. I hated it, despised myself for it… but kept silent all the same.

“Should we just leave her behind?” Rita asked, giving no concern to me as I struggled to catch my breath after Jack’s strangling attempt. “She’s useless after all.”

“She used to provide good support.” Garrett spoke up. “We can keep her on the team until we find someone more useful…”

“I am not giving a spot on our team to a healer.” Jack closed his eyes and rubbed his temples for a moment, as if trying to calm himself down. Finally, he looked down at me coldly. “You can tag along with our team, without an official spot. You will do your best to be useful. Otherwise, we will leave you to die.”

Leave them! My heart screamed at me. Being alone is better than this! You didn’t commit some great sin by becoming a Healer! You just chose the best you could! Tell them!

Slowly, I nodded. “Fine.” My voice was still hoarse from the pressure he had placed on my throat. I adjusted my tone with the ease and familiarity of practice. “I’ll follow along.” I pushed the screaming voice in my head back, along with my pride. I knew I was worthless, a failure. I had been told that every day by the two people on the planet who were supposed to love me the most. Jack was only the latest person to say it out loud.

This was what I deserved.

The first month passed quickly. We went on multiple quests together, and settled into a comfortable rhythm. Jack would take the lead, with Garrett beside him to tank. Rita picked off far away opponents, and supported from the back. And I…

I did everything I could.

Outside of fights, I was cooking, keeping inventory, asking for quest information, and keeping the gear repaired and functional. Many nights I stayed up late, sharpening swords or repairing gear, only to have my hard work receive a nod and no other recognition.

In fights, I demanded even more of myself. Slipping in between enemies, causing damage. I delved down most of the “surgical” pathway of the healer ability, which allowed me to cause a diverse array of damage. I built up my MP until I could activate Wordless Incantation, as I found the group's irritation was a lot less if they couldn’t hear me. I immobilized enemies and allowed the others to finish them off. Because I had a hand in almost every single enemy’s death, I received a good amount of XP and fame from each fight, which angered Jack to no end.

“Stop stealing our experience!” He snapped after a fight, reading the notification that stated the rewards and experience given out.

“You asked me to immobilize them.” I answered quietly, feeling tired. “Do you want me to stop?”

“…” He glared at me silently for a few moments before answering. “Figure out a way to do it without taking my XP.”

“…sure.”

“I mean it, Healer.” From the moment he heard my class, he had never called me by my name. Our friendship, the time we had spent together… none of it meant anything next to the weight of the one undeniable fact:

I was a Healer. And therefore, in his eyes, I was a burden.

I kept my head down, trying to help out as much as possible. I learned not to ask for recognition. To not expect thanks. And I thought things would never change.

And then came the day we met Winter.

________________

PRESENT DAY

“Ouch!” Stephanie yelped as I carefully placed the needle through her skin, placing a simple suture across the wound on her calf. I didn’t hesitate with her cry of pain, tying the knot and moving on to the next stitch.

“The area has been numbed with magic, don’t pretend it hurts.”

“Yeah, I was just messing with you.” Stephanie laughed stuck her tongue out. “How did you know?”

“Because I know how it feels to sew my wounds shut without the local anesthesia spell.” I kept working without looking up. “You wouldn’t just be saying ‘ouch.’”  

“Uh…Well, thank you.”

I felt surprised at her words. After a year with the Hero’s party, I was so used to doing things without any gratitude or recognition. You’re not with them anymore. I let out a mental sigh of relief at the thought, and smiled at Stephanie. “You’re welcome.”

“YOU SMILED!” Stephanie tried to get up to hug me, but Alton reached over from where he was sewing cloth nearby and pushed her back down, shaking his head with a grin.

“Don’t interrupt her work.” Winter’s response was much colder, causing Stephanie to freeze in place.

“I’m on the last one anyways.” I squared off the last knot on the suture, cutting the tails and placing a clean bandage over my work. “Keep it dry for 48 hours, and then you can remove the outer covering and bathe.”

“Not to cheapen all the work you just put into repairing this cut for me…” Stephanie hesitated. “But wouldn’t a healing potion be easier?”

Alton shook his head, but before he could say anything Winter spoke up. “Stupid human.”

“HEY! I’m not stupid!” She glanced at me. “Right?”

“No, you’re not.” Raising an eyebrow at Winter, who settled down with a grunt, I continued. “Have you noticed that over time you’ve had to use more powerful healing potions?”

She thought that over. “Well, yeah, but… I’m higher level, and have more HP… Isn’t that normal?”

“Have you tried to use a basic potion recently?” I pulled one out, and tossed it to her. “Here.”

Stephanie caught it, clearly confused. “I’m only missing 5 HP… I don’t need something that heals 10…”

“Try it.”

“Okay.” She shrugged. “If you insist…” She drank the potion quickly, and then flinched at the notification. “…It didn’t work? … Not even the cut healed.” 

Alton continued to sew, but spoke up. “The more you use healing potions, the less they work. Fortunately, this seems limited to healing potions… mana recovery and other types of potions such as detoxification seem to not develop the same resistance. It’s also a slow process, but it’s becoming a universal issue. If you check the world chat this is a heated topic of discussion. Most people believe the that it’s related to level… but that’s not the case.”

“How do you know that?”

“They still work on me.” I answered quietly. “That’s why I carry the basic ones around.”

“Foolish humans… these potions were meant for true lifesaving emergencies… a basic healing potion should be enough to recover up to 50% of your health… but you drink them like water until they are worthless to you.” Winter sighed, looking over at me with a small smile. “That is why the Healers are such a vital class. In a world of constant danger and battle, of destruction and pain, only they have the power to heal and preserve. They are a noble, selfless light that protects those around them… someone to be protected at all costs. There should be a Healer in every party… but instead Nat is the only one left.”

“You did save me before!” Stephanie did get up unobstructed and hugged me. “Thank you!”

“And me.” Winter added, staring at the ground. “She saved me as well.”

“Hey, I distinctly remember passing out in front of her and being saved too, guys!” Alton spoke up, tying up his thread and checking the repair on his cape before looking at me. “I guess we are all indebted to you.”

I stared at all of them, feeling disturbed in my heart. “You guys… I’m…”

I’m worthless. Weak. And my weakness was used to destroy countless lives.

“… Thank you.” I silenced the words in my heart, and spoke a simple thanks instead.

“…” Winter was staring. I always felt he could see more than I wanted him too, as if my hidden thoughts and feelings were on display in front of him. But instead of commenting, he simply bent down, plucking a blue flower from the ground, and handed it to me.

“That’s so cute!” Stephanie clapped her hands, before freezing. “Wait! Are you two…?”

Alton paused in packing up his things and stared in our direction.

I shook my head silently at her before turning back to Winter. “Thank you. The mountain wild flower’s petals have strong anti-inflammatory properties. I’ll dry it out and process it for medication at our next stop." I pressed the flower carefully in one of my books and packed it away.

Winter nodded at my words. “You’re welcome.”

“It’s for medicine?” Stephanie frowned, disappointed. “Well, that’s boring. Where’s my drama?!”

Alton smiled widely. “Oh, don’t worry, I got your drama! Look in the world chat!”

Pausing, all of us pulled up the chat, excluding Winter, who leaned on a tree nearby and watched the display over my shoulder. The top topic in the chat was skyrocketing with engagement… and seeing the title it wasn’t hard to understand why:

___________________________

“TROUBLE IN PARADISE? HERO’S PARTY SEEN ARGUING WITH NEW MEMBER REBECCA THE SORCERESS! IS THE USELESS HEALER MISSED?”

There was great discussion today among players as a loud disagreement broke out among the Hero’s Party after their last quest line. Although it is unknown the exact nature of it, it seems to be surrounding the recent addition to the party.  Rebecca the Sorceress is the newest member of the Hero’s Party after the departure of the much-despised Healer. Many had cheered her arrival, as well as supporting the apparent budding relationship between the Hero and his new magical lady.

___________________________

“And you guys ask why I think humans are stupid.” Winter muttered as he read along with me. I shushed him and continued on with the post.

___________________________

But is there a fracture in the once iron-strong team? Words such as “Useless,” “Hiding” and “Potion sponge” were heard shouted by Rita the Holy Archer, with the Hero defending and Garrett the Giant siding beside Rita. Rebecca appeared to be in tears. Is this bullying the newcomer? Is Rebecca actually dragging the team down? What does this mean for the plans to attack the forty second gate in a few days?

Discuss your thoughts below!

___________________________

I sighed and closed the chat, seeing that comments were mostly just going back and forth over the juicy gossip. “What a mess.”

“You don’t sound surprised.” Alton commented with a grin.

“No. I’m not. Rebecca… she’s…”

“Useless?” Stephanie interjected.

“Full of tears and excuses?” Was Alton’s contribution.

“A snake who poisons those foolish enough to trust it.” Winter quietly added.

I laughed. “… I was going to say she’s a lot of drama… but I like your answers better. They are used to a certain standard of having everything done for them, even if I backed off quite a bit towards the end, when things had gotten really bad. I don’t think Rebecca will see my role within the group as appealing, though.”

“Oh well, their loss is our gain!” Stephanie cheered, hugging me again. “Let’s go hunting! I want meat for dinner!” She pulled out her sword excitedly.

“Yes, Natalie should have some meat to help her recover from all the battles we’ve been through.” Winter nodded, checking his bow and following.

Alton stood up and looked over at me. “Meat for dinner doesn’t sound bad… what do you think, Ms. Healer? Do you want to go hunting?”

“I don’t want to ruin their fun…” I started to say, looking at the backs of the two already moving ahead.

Alton’s voice was serious. “No. I’m not asking about them. I’m asking what YOU want to do.”

I paused, and my gaze met his own. After a few moments, I smiled. “Meat sounds great for dinner.” And I meant it.

“Then let’s go hunting with them.”  Was his answer.

And hunting we went.

With only two days left before we would face the forty-second gate.

#writing #fantasy #the healer #violence #magic #video game like world #betrayal #friends

[mayfay]

Danny’s Medical Complications

Or: I had an idea and it won’t leave (and unfortunately I can’t do dialogue to save my life)

It started simple enough, a quick visit to Frostbite for a general checkup. And then it kept going. New machines, techniques, people, and an increasingly worried yeti was starting to freak Danny out a bit. Eventually it all went away and Frostbite set him down for A Talk.

See, Halfas are hella rare for a reason. The conditions needed to form them are really rare yes, but they aren’t the Main problem. No the main issue is the Disparity. Ghosts are beings of emotions, sufficient stress, emotional/mental harm, lack of ecto, and more can all lead to death. And Halfas crank that up to 11. They have a human side to take care of that’s constantly changing and growing, a higher ecto requirement to fuel their higher base strength, and a myriad of other minor complications that haven’t been properly studied cause Halfas are rarely found and usually don’t form ghosts on death

Say what

What do you mean “don’t form a ghost” they’re already half way there!

And there lies the problem, they’re halfway there. Ghosts are pretty static. they might change yes, but it’s usually due to major events or over the course of eons. And how do they decide on what they’re gonna be? By dying of course! Once the body dies its ghost is formed based on the current life situation and they move on. Simple, quick, easy. No complications here no siree!

Enter Halfas

They already died, and while infant ghosts and experience some major changes as they settle it’s nothing to the degree humans do. And as time passes the static ghost half and changing human half can drift, wobbling on that line between life and death. And once it gets to extreme? They fall. If the ghost half starves or dies the human half experiences Major health complications, leading to death shortly after. If the human side dies they try to form a ghost using all the ambient ecto the ghost side has been feeding on, leading to the ghosts death in most cases but if not they’re practically two different beings and fusing them will kill both anyways.

Good news though! With all the combat and rediculously high ecto levels Danny was exposed to to form his other half, his ghost side has stayed pretty adaptable! The other ghosts didn’t realize they were fighting a literal infant thanks to the high ecto levels he had (and the knowledgeable ones that Did had other reasonings the meant a little smack down they totally wouldn’t lose was an acceptable trade off for them). Horrifying, he will spend the next century finding all sorts of animal pelts, boxes, music tracks, etc landing on him in the middle of the night. But it has a silver lining! Thanks to not being allowed to settle Danny can still shape his ghost form to a degree. And Clockwork, brilliant old man that he is, has an Idea on how to fix this.

Great! Lay it on him Clockwork! What’s he gotta do? Get de-aged and die? Ha Ha! You sure know how to make a good joke old man-child, now what’s the real way?

Oh

Oh no

Danny Can form a ghost on death, but it’ll require dying while as mentally and physically similar to how he was when the portal closed. Problem there, he’s changed. He’s changed a Good Bit. Luckily Clockwork can handle the physical aspect but Desiree needs some extra time for her end. See, she Can change brain chemistry and whatnot, but it takes time to become permanent. A quick fix like her usual work is fragile (lies, it’s still stupidly powerful but forming a ghost relies on the persons deepest core, and that takes time to settle in to Desiree’s magic). So they just have to de-age Danny to an appropriate age where once he hits around the age he was when the portal closed Desiree’s magic will have settled, molding his personality/core to as close as they can be.

And then he has to die.

Doesn’t have to be as extreme as the portal incident was (in fact new factors like major doses of ecto would be a Very bad idea, his malleable ghost side is already pushing the limits with the minor variation he’ll already have) but it Does need to be in an area with high levels of ambient ecto, preferably his new hometown to match his current life’s lack of geographic movement.

He’ll also need to have his ghost half locked away to a degree. He’ll still need to be liminal of course, that long term exposure to ecto is needed to fuel a ghosts transformation, but proper ghost powers are getting put away unless Clockwork thinks they’re needed (and if it Does get to that point he’s getting pulled out for a second try anyways).

So where to put him? Well Gotham of course!

Clockwork…. Why are you like this (it’s all for the good of the timeline. And Lady Gotham owes him a favor he prepared just for this)

From there if he ends up in the Bats care (Nasty Burger explosion, Ghost Jazz, or simply not having anyone capable of properly raising him knowing he’ll die at 14) it doesn’t take long for one John Constantine to notice the Heavy Infinite Realms influence on the small child and drag the big bat away for his own Talk (double angst if he’s able to recognize the specific brand of Time Magic indicating a death prophecy). If he ends up under Jazz’s care then it might take a bit longer, but she’ll likely end up tied up in Bat business and from there it wouldn’t take long for a Very stressed Jazz to accidentally reveal something (or a child Danny not realizing “I know when I’m going to Die in excruciating detail!” is Not something you share with strangers, especially not ones as paranoid as the Bats).

Also for loose threads I imagine Ellie is unstable because her ecto is cloned off of Danny, while her human half is its own person. That large disparity usually leads to death (as seen in the other clones) but she’s able to force it off with sheer ecto strength, using the ecto shots as fuel to Force her body to stay together until they reach an inevitable conclusion or potentially meld together like Dan does).

As for Dan he’s not Properly a Halfa. I never watched the show so I don’t have all the details but I understand he’s some kinda mix of future Danny and Vlad gone evil and destroying the world. This mix Might be able to last longer than a regular Halfa would due to the insane amounts of ecto he has in his system. And as time passes the mixed ghost halves Could be unstable enough to sort of meld with his human parts, creating something of a Highly unstable ghost-human hybrid (seperate from Halfas since this is a blending of the two, not a distinct line between two halves).

That wouldn’t work with Danny cause it requires a second ghost mixing with him And the two somehow not destabilizing during the years it takes for the blend to settle. And the Ellie route is out since that requires So Much fine control and vigilance over a Very long period of time to slowly manually shape the ghost half to better fit the human half, rather than the other way around like Danny’s doing.

@evilminji thoughts?

#dpxdc #first time doing a proper dpxdc and I tackled a topic I don’t know much about #so not sure on the quality but I Had to get it down

[wilchur]

It always makes me feel so ehh when people use chosen!Durge when they strictly mean this bloodthirsty cruel person because be honest, what choice did they really have? Unless you play Durge as being incredibly suicidal and unhealthily self-sacrificing, telling Bhaal they will do his bidding is for the most part a survival choice. Durge as a character doesn't know Withers will just swoop in and bend the fabric of the universe to his will to save them, they have no idea that their refusal won't be the last thing they do. So it makes perfect sense for someone who is not necessarily an Evil person to go along simply because they're scared of dying (and being tortured in the Bhaal's domain forever), but both the game and a large portion of players refuse to acknowledge it.

Chosen Durge is always the baddie, a lost cause, and while that can well enough be true for some characters to me it's just.. boring? Unless you play/write them evil from start to finish, it really falls flat. Where are the blurry lines? Where's the moral complexity? Not everything is binary, but it feels like in Durge's case everyone from the characters in-universe to a lot of people engaging with the story only believe they can be one or the other. Completely different, changed person who would rather die than to endure Bhaal's hold on them or a monster so soaked through to the bone with Bhaal's taint, even amnesia wasn't enough to save them. That's what the "redeemed" and "chosen" shorthands look like to me. Even using [alignment]!Durge is better. Someone saying they made a redeemed!Durge tells me nothing. Yeah they let Bhaal kill them, great. What are they like, though.

Ezra could very well fall under the Chosen category, but he is SO far removed from what that means in the fandom, using it for him would be doing him a disservice. I refuse to simplify him that way, he has too many layers and is too complex as a character to put him in a box like that. Even alignment does a shoddy job at summarising him to me. People don't work like that. They're often self contradictory and don't think before they act. Okay his baseline is chaotic neutral, but sometimes he borders on evil and other times he's so incredibly selfless you could call him chaotic good even. Circumstance and emotions can affect people greatly!

It really just boils down to.. PLEASE try to get out of the black hole of Larian's rushed "Oh shit we need to put a bhaalspawn origin in this" black and white narrative and see just how many galaxies there are to explore. Don't constrain yourself to the story forks they established, you're just hurting your character writing in the long run and putting a big ass sign on them that pretty much makes them get lost in the sea of all the other "redeemed" and "chosen" Durges. They might make good descriptors if you're just crafting characters to play as, but I wish we dropped them entirely. It's not OC language, it's AU language for canon characters who already had all the work done on them by writers and that people at large know well enough to tell there's more to them than that. In here it doesn't work.

And I also consider it kind of TikTok lazy and uncreative to use, but that's just me.

#in general i have a very strong beef with oc stories that are just strict retellings of someone's playthrough lol #great you put your character in the dev's y/n fanfic #the backstory can be interesting i guess #but if you don't craft your own game canon it's gona be a pass from me #you gotta be autistic about it #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #the dark urge #bg3 spoilers #durge spoilers

[sunflowerskies00]

too sweet, part 14

if you're drunk on life

series master list

liked by edwards.73 and others

yourusername: as taylor swift said "now i'm down bad"

taylorrose: pretty sure miss taylor meant it in a different way

yourusername: potato po-tot-to taylorrose: i can't with you

lhughes_06: please we need jump scare warnings for all these photos of you making out with your boyfriend

jackhughes: fr it's nasty _quinnhughes: ^ agree yourusername: you guys act like kindergarteners

trevorzegras: crying at the gym?

yourusername: everything comes out teenage petulance? trevorzegras: fuck it if you can't have him? yourusername: i might just die. it would make no difference trevorzegras: down bad waking up in blood? yourusername: staring at the sky come back trevorzegras: come back and pick me up? yourusername: fuck it if I can't have us trevorzegras: you might just not get up? yourusername: ur my fav idk why Quinn hates you trevorzegras: me neither I'm amazing yourusername: FR quinn is just a hater _quinnhughes: I can read your comments yourusername: you can read?? _quinnhughes: brat

dylanduke25: you two are disgusting

rutgermcgroarty: ^ we have to see the making out in person and now it's on Instagram too. despicable. yourusername: despicable? That's a big word for you rut edwards.73: did someone put extra sass in your coffee today? yourusername: probably

username24: please are we just ignoring y/n and trevor's thread?

username35: fr it's so funny username62: their friendship is adorable

liked by taylorrose and others

yourusername: are you ready for it?

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yourusername: we love queen taylor here yoursername: also she has lyrics that make good captions yourusername: including this lovely foreshadow-y one taylorrose: mhm and what are we foreshadowing yourusername: 😏😈👩🏻‍❤️‍💋‍👨🏻

dylanduke25: this better be about what I think it's about

markestapa: for real rutgermcgroarty: it's been way too long for it to not

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yourusername: too bad so sad

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username56: facts i'm already losing it username44: we've been waiting for months username35: we all know I just want the confirmation and the CONTENT

tags: @jdjgasidkgdf@bunbunbl0gs@love4ldr@lilasianmeat

#ethan edwards #rutger mcgroarty #jack hughes #luke hughes #quinn hughes #trevor zegras #ethan edwards x y/n #umich hockey #ethan edwards x reader #mark estapa #luca fantilli #dylan duke #nhl hockey #nhl imagine

[iwasforcedtomakethisbytum]

I love that agere content got popular in the wttt fandom. I don't know how but it's amazing, so i made up some headcanons for the main six, i don't see them all regressing but i decided to force myself to have all the headcanons be about regressing

Florida i feel is at the youngest 7 he is a bit more giggly he is obsessed with water and will run off to swim in a nearby lake, that's one reason he doesn't tell people about his regression the other is so he can watch adult shows and stuff without others trying to stop him (i feel California would try if he knew) he does have chew toys and non chew toys (like that'll stop the chomp) but he doesn't specifically use them in or out of regression

Gov is pretty quiet when regressing, he obviously doesn't wear a suit because why would he? I don't know how old he'd be but I'm feeling anything below like 8 would work he has a chew toy and a pacifier that he barely uses unless he was really young, he has a good few plushies he's collected over the years that when he's regressed he usually just stares at, he might move them a bit but he really just imagines them doing cool stuff, i feel the states tried getting him to physically play with them but have stopped because he is genuinely having fun and gov also hit them because they took his toys

Louisiana is somewhere in the teenager range, so he can hide his regression pretty well, if he even knows he's doing it, i feel he sneaks out just to walk around the place looking for fun even though he doesn't have to sneak out nobody would question if he left without telling anyone, he does not have toys for his regression specifically, i feel he would wear more clothes he would wear around when he was a teen, he'd also have a shorter temper imo

New York i could see around 4-8 he doesn't dress too differently he already wears pretty comfy clothes it looks like, i feel he has a couple plushies, and a pacifier he'll use i don't feel he regresses a lot and he doesn't really care for toys as an adult so he doesn't have many. I've seen a headcanon say he likes to color not related to regression but now I'm making it related, he has a good few colouring and activity books he enjoys both regressed or not, depending on his age he'll watch some nice kids shows in bed maybe with his toys, he probably hits them against each other

California is around 5-10 when he regresses, no matter his age he usually likes having his pacifier, occasionally he'll take a chew toy especially if he were to go out in public and try to hide his regression, we all see him if anyone to have a good amount of plushies, and he pretty much only watches kids shows when regressed, i see him more into cuddling plushies than playing with them. He can have a bit less self control and he'll be a little selfish during his regression, nothing insane tho. Sometimes i feel he could get really upset before or during his regression and have to be calmed down by another state

Texas is one of the younger regressors, i feel around 2-3 he usually isn't trying to regress so obviously he's usually a little upset when it does happen, he is nearly unable to talk and does have communication cards because of it, he has made himself a couple of plushies because he'd rather die than buy himself a plushie at a store like so embarrassing! He has a pacifier he hates the pacifier, he sometimes uses a chew toy but he doesn't often he doesn't even own it because of his regression it's because he uses it to not grind his teeth in his sleep. He hides under furniture a good lot, or just in compact areas. He gets really upset if you touch anything of his, you are not guaranteed safety if you do, if he wants you to touch his stuff, he'll basically force you to take it.

Stay tuned and maybe I'll do all of them as caregivers, no promises on that though

#welcome to the table #welcome to the statehouse #wttt #wttsh #wttt texas #wttt california #wttt florida #wttt new york #wttt louisiana #wttt gov

[conceptofjoy]

i think if you put dirk in charge of setting up a home for a child who is going to arrive hundreds of years later after an apocalypse he would actually be really good at that. goes from being the least qualified to be a guardian to the most qualified. being an apocalypse prepper is like what he was born for practically, his ass is constructing an impregnable bunker full of everything you could reasonably think of putting in an apocalypse hideout. and because he isn't there to like, physically raise the child himself you dont run into any issues with him doing all that "training" shit he did with dave. the worst he could do is like, set up some traps that only need to be disarmed Once. maybe he leaves important supplies inside of puppets so the kid has to tear them apart or dissect them or whatever but that builds character

THE LAST PART LMFAO no but ur right.

he might make a brobot with different modes including a child rearing setting. but theres def a training mode in there shrug. dude has to account for EEEEEVERYthing or he would just never die and appear there as a withered 400 yr old husk himself.

#d talks #ask

[scoobydoodean]

I think people tend to view Dean as more unhinged about Sam because Sam seems to be the one shown consistently "fine" living without Dean. Like S8 Sam and series finale Sam. Like not trying to get Dean back. Whereas in S6 Dean said he tried to get Sam out of the Cage but kept hitting dead ends. But he didn't just let Sam go like he said he would. Sam seems to be less hesitant to just let Sam go and more able to live on without Dean. Idk what are your thoughts on this?

Context

The thing is is that I don't feel the need to respond to the notion that being willing to sacrifice yourself for your brother is more unhinged than killing people to keep him alive or get him back or get revenge on his behalf. Because I don't think that's true at all. All that difference reflects is Sam's willingness to go to morally questionable lengths beyond where Dean will go. Dean's moral compass will cause him to hit a point where his only option is self-sacrifice long before Sam ever hits that wall.

That said... some of what you've said is extremely misleading.

Between season 3 and 4, Sam ignored Bobby's calls and spent months in a bottle stumbling drunk, drinking hard liquor straight from a bottle. He captured a crossroad's demon and tried to trade his life for Dean's (Gifset), and tried to open The Devil's gate (Gifset). He at one point planned to charge into battle against Lilith knowing he would lose and die—it's an intentional suicide mission (4.09). He also readily rejects Dean's dying wishes by working with Ruby for revenge against Lilith (Gifset).

Contrast this with season 6: Dean researched how to get Sam out of The Cage—in books--on the side while living with Lisa and Ben, without risking his own life or anyone else's, and without trying to make any demon deals or do anything else reckless, and while managing PTSD.

Which of these people actually sounds more "fine"? Because there's an objectively correct answer here and it's not Sam.

Season 8 Sam is an exception—not the rule. What we're looking at is not character growth (we need no more proof of that than season 10 and The Book of the Damned). The Reason Sam Is Like That™️ is because he's experiencing a break from reality.

As for 15.20 Sam, we have no idea if Sam tried to find a way to bring Dean back. SPNWin might actually suggest Sam has been trying to get Dean back the entire time Dean's been dead (depending on whether you think "Clarence" is an obvious Cas reference, whether the brother relationship makes it clear he's Sam, or whether he's both). Regardless, at that point we are dealing with a Sam who has maxxed out his knowledge about the pitfalls encountered when you try to bring back your family (this includes Jack). This makes him generally less reckless because he vividly understands the consequences. We see the same thing with Dean as early as season 6, and again in 13.21, when he thinks Sam has been torn apart and is convinced to leave Sam behind and prioritize the safety of the people around him instead.

Additionally, a lot of the less versus more reckless plays the brothers make with their own lives have to do with how badly they might be struggling with suicidal ideation at one point or another. This is a massive motivator for Dean's deal in 2.22 for example. His actions aren't just about Sam—they're also about his belief that he "came back wrong" and shouldn't be alive, and that dying will set the universe right. Literally the entire season he is struggling with the intense guilt and a sense of wrongness over being alive.

So yeah. One time, Sam abandoned Dean to die. At other times, he came up with plans that involved sacrificing himself, or other people, or dedicated himself to revenge to the exclusion of all else.

#mail

[zoeykallus]

How do you feel abt the finale? Will you be writing again?🤍

I will be writing again, in fact I'm working on it right now. I still have a lot of catching up to do in the request section, as well as continuing my fics. How do I feel about the TBB finale...? Oh gosh... Well, I can tell you, as much as I love them, as much as I would have loved to see more seasons, the ending of season three was such a disappointment to me. There was so much wasted/unused potential that it downright hurt/frustrated me. Some things felt more like fillers than plot relevant. And as much as I loved to see certain things going on, some just simply angered me.

SPOILER UNDER THE CUT!!!

The following is just my perception, my opinion. It's totally fine if anyone, reading this, thinks and feels different about it. To each their own... I'm usually not that critical about TBB, never have been. But this was the ending, the goodbye, the part where everything comes to a close.

There was such a build up and hints for Tech to be CX 2, partly. Maybe a lot of it was wishful thinking by the viewer, but still. They could have made them reveal, after he was killed, that it was Tech, for example, or reveal it first and still make them fight, leaving them no choice but to kill. There was so much missed potential right there, for real emotion and Drama, that wasn't used. But that's just one thing. Well, yeah the Zillo Beast was kinda cool I guess... But why was it there in the first place? What for, what use did it have? We don't get any kind of info about that... it's just there, for Omega to use it and wreak havoc. *shrugs* wasn't really impressed or happy with that part to be honest. As cool as the destruction was, it was just that, nothing more. It felt like a filler, just put there for Omega to use, without any further explanation before or after. Rampart suddenly wanting to steal the Data instead of getting out of there right away and saving his ass?! Did he really think he could blackmail his way back into the empire? Plain stupid, sorry. Even if the empire did agree, as soon as they had their hands on the data, Rampart would be executed or thrown back in his cell. At least that's what I would do as the empire. He worked for those people long enough to know that. That was just a facepalm Moment for me. Honestly, as much as I despised that guy, I'd rather would have seen a redemption arch about him than Nala Se sacrificing herself to destroy the data and kill Rampart in the process, in a forced scene to make her look badass and make us feel something. ....Oh my god we lost her, but she went out like a badass... gosh I couldn't care less, she died because Rampart is suddenly a total dimwit, if this scene made me feel anything, well, it's anger. He was a Vice Admiral before, can any airhead become that high ranking now? Anyway...

The way Hemlock died was, well, interesting. I did like the little call back with Crosshair steadying his Shot on Hunter's shoulder, like he used to do with Tech, but the rest of it felt... rushed. The intensity buildup was pretty good in parts, but the things mentioned above, ruined it for me. I did love to see all the other clones to get freed though, I was moved to hear/see them ready for one more fight, not leaving TBB on their own. One more time, fighting with and for their brothers, for their freedom and most of all, fighting for something they chose, not for something anyone else ordered them to fight and die for. That part I smiled at with a little tear in my eye.

And the very last scene, with Omega and Hunter. I loved to see them this way, him grown old, her grown up. But I felt miffed about Crosshair and Wrecker not being there. Would Omega really just sneak away and leave them? Maybe she didn't really want to say goodbye or arguing with them about leaving, but on the other hand, I feel like they owed it to each other to say goodbye, to wish Omega luck and have a more emotional moment. Besides, I might be just miffed about the fact that we didn't see old Wrecker and old Crosshair as well.

I guess, after all, it's a Disney show.

All in all, I'm not entirely happy with how things ended. 🤷🏻‍♀️

#asks #tbb #spoiler #tbb spoilers #the bad batch #star wars #clone force 99

[arkhaline]

My Complete Thoughts on RvB: Restoration

Major spoilers for the entire season below the cut!

I think the biggest sin of this season was not clarifying when it takes place, as it cheapened a lot of the twists by genuinely confusing me or contrasting information that we had already been given in S15-S18. Keep this in mind for the rest of the review.

Maybe the allusion to Caboose’s voice being “misremembered” was confirmation that it was in fact a simulation post-S13, but it still wasn’t super clear to me. Especially since Dylan was talking about the Reds and Blues (even though I know they met post-S10), which kinda made it feel like Restoration could be post-S18 (unless that was the point). There was just enough ambiguity that it really could have gone either way for most of the movie.

I feel like the humor was a bit off?? Maybe it was a generational gap since the show was going back to someone who hasn’t written for it in a while and is older than the current writers (case in point: he used tropes that Gen Z makes fun of a lot, e.g. he’s right behind me isn’t he). The Zoom call bit also went on WAY too long. The metacommentary about the changing attitudes toward RT also felt a bit tone deaf. In general, a lot of the trademark RvB banter just felt stale, it was the more general dialogue that was stronger (though Church telling Caboose to shut up when Simmons was talking did make me laugh).

Also, Grif was so angry all the time at the beginning?? Felt out of character and took me out of those early scenes. Maybe it was a setup for the whole discharge subplot but it just felt… off

The writing was just a bit clunky at the beginning, felt very direct and exposition-y, but that might be because they had so much to cover in so little time. It resolved itself later, anyway (except for the rapid fire ending, there was so much to unpack there).

Alright enough complaining about the general format, here are my more detailed thoughts.

Sheila!!! That is all.

I can excuse Caboose secretly speaking Spanish the whole time because there was a bit in S16 (maybe 17? can’t remember) where he understands something that Lopez said.

I initially completely missed the fact that the Meta’s color scheme was an allusion to Felix, that is so fucked up. Tucker dressed in the colors of the man he hates the most about to kill his closest friends? Jesus.

The Director being Epsilon’s therapist in the YouTube video made me laugh really hard.

Speaking of therapists, Wash was patient 619-B and I think that was the Counselor’s voice. Is the implication that he survived in this timeline?? Because he died before Epsilon fractured himself, so that much should at least be set in stone. Not really clear on that.

The “Great Destroyer” thing felt a bit retcon-y, but I can get behind it well enough.

I got so excited when 479er showed up, glad that we got confirmation that she made it out of Recovery okay. Wish we could’ve seen her and Wash (and Carolina) interact though.

I wish they had done Sarge’s death a bit differently. Kinda wish he hadn’t been all “that worked out well!” only to be stabbed, it felt very “he’s right behind me isn’t he” and made the fact that he was about to be stabbed obvious from a million miles away. There’s definitely something to be said about him sacrificing himself for a blue, and the deathbed interactions he had with the others were really good, but it kinda just felt like shock value?? Like there wasn’t enough build up to the payoff, it just kinda seemed like he decided to save Caboose last minute without any major character motivations or development behind the decision.

Which is another thing, it felt like it relied a LOT on Red vs. Blue dynamics in the beginning, and I was fucking flabbergasted when they actually left Caboose behind. The same people who broke time to save Wash would just leave Caboose to die like that? No way.

Meta!Tucker felt like it wasn’t explored enough, mostly just “no I won’t do your bidding” and “yes you will” back and forth with no real depth. However, credit where credit is due, I LOVED how this gave us a new perspective to Maine’s descent into madness. That ten-years-of-torture-in-a-few-seconds thing? So fucked up. Can you imagine being tortured by the remnants of your best friend, who have zero regard for your well-being? If they did all of that to Tucker in the short time they were together, just imagine what they did to Maine to get him to the point he was at at the end of S10/by Recollection.

Bonus points for the fact that the fragments tortured Tucker without a second thought when they themselves are a result of torture. They seemed to spare no empathy for Tucker despite having been through this themselves. Then again, I suppose they are they are copies of the original Leonard Church, who had no such qualms.

Didn’t realize that Meta!Tucker was voiced by Miles Luna (aka Felix’s voice actor) until the credits, that was an extra layer of fucked up and I loved it.

I really enjoyed Wash’s plot for the most part. I was definitely super intrigued the whole time since so much of his subplot didn’t add up from his perspective. I mean, I think he deserved something more for a send-off since most of his arc wasn’t really related to his character as a whole (besides the freelancer thing at the end). However, I still enjoyed it for what it was worth.

Additionally, if this is post-S13, I wish they’d clarified because I assumed that Wash was suffering from cerebral hypoxia and not some other injury. They kept alluding to something that happened on Chorus, but I wasn’t clear on the fact that it was a separate timeline of events. The Doc plot twist threw me off a lot more as a result.

I could tell he was gonna launch himself off the cliff and it still made me laugh hysterically.

I’m glad that the final battle was in Blood Gulch. It’s cliché, but it felt full-circle. Plus, it was the best resting place for Sarge in canon and a good set-up for a “why were we here” moment.

I knew Simmons was gonna have his arm broken but I still gasped anyway. And when the shotgun was cut in half??? Bro my jaw was on the floor, it was like when John Wick’s dog was killed (probably, I’ve never seen that movie). But the way Simmons cocked the shotgun with one hand was badass as hell, good for him.

I’m glad we got something resembling a Simmons character arc? I think it relied a lot on setup from previous seasons of him becoming a leader, with little to no actual development in S19 itself, but it still felt at least decently satisfying.

“Best throw ever. Of all time” made me laugh, I love a good callback. Actually, there were a lot of fun callbacks to jokes, like the irony bit. They were greatly appreciated.

Tucker getting launched by a warthog actually made me laugh really hard, I love the “shotgun as a code word” bit so much.

The Tex plot twist was SO GOOD, I totally didn’t see it coming. Much better direction to go anyway, since we already put Church to rest in S15. So glad that Caboose was able to get his moment in the spotlight and have the smartest plan of all of them. Unless it was Church’s plan, in which case I find it so sweet that he wanted to bring Tex back instead of himself (even if it did cheapen the S9 “let her go” thing a bit). I also really loved the callback where her armor turned black because of the teleporter, that was really good.

I got so excited when they started playing Round One I’ll be honest. Also, I Say Ooh?? Was not expecting that one.

In all honesty, I didn’t love the soundtrack (kinda felt stock music-y and cliché in a lot of parts, plus it didn’t have the musical style that we’ve come to expect from RvB). It was fine, but nothing to write home about. The campfire song was good too. I know about the whole thing where Trocadero wouldn’t join on unless everyone was brought back on, and now that we know that RT is shutting down, it’s possible that this was because multiple musical artists just weren’t in the budget. That said, it’s a shame that there weren’t more original songs.

I called that Carolina was gonna be Recovery (though now I think about it, why was she doing Recovery?? was it even Recovery since Charon had been shut down??? What happened to her after Chorus???? Also her talking about how her and Wash would do everything together from now on meanwhile she left him behind in some hospital?????). Anyway, the fight with her and Tex was SO fan service-y but I ate it up anyway, good for them.

Tex winning because she was a collection of the Reds and Blues’ memories and she always won against them was so, so good, something to be said about the positive nature of the memories of your friends (I mean just look at how happy they had been when recounting everything they’d been through!)

Also if just talking about someone was enough to create a functional AI, it kinda makes the whole “torturing Alpha to make more AI” thing totally pointless and retcons the entire show but. Whatever.

TEX DESERVED THIS ENDING!! I like the S9 ending in a lot of ways, it was poetic that she was finally allowed to rest after being dragged back so many times against her will, but I think it also felt incomplete because I don’t know if being put to rest was what Tex herself would actually want. There is a significant difference between not electing to bring her back again and choosing to take her out of the fight. Tex was never allowed to make her own decisions, not even in S9. This ending was entirely on her terms, which I think was fantastic.

I loved the rockslide, it reminded me a lot of the ice fight from S8 was just generally very fun.

It’s established that Tucker became the Meta because he had several AI when just two was enough to almost kill Carolina. If this isn’t the canon timeline, then why didn’t Tucker become the Meta in that one? For a reason besides “the writers didn’t think of it”.

I hope that Burnie came up with the idea for this season by reading Meta!Tucker fan fiction.

The Doc thing was so??? Why did they do a Sixth Sense. Like I think that twist would have worked a LOT better if they made it clearer when this took place (I kept flip flopping on whether this was an alternate timeline post-S13 or main timeline post-S18 up until this point, which made the whole Doc-died-on-Chorus thing feel like it came out of nowhere since, if it was post-S18, we knew that Doc survived Chorus. It also makes Epsilon’s sacrifice to get them all out of there feel a bit cheaper since they didn’t all get out of there, but maybe that suggests that S15-S18 are the main timeline).

How did Doc heal Wash’s leg?? Was it even broken in the first place??? Did they ever clarify that????

I GASPED when the Freelancers showed up. It was camp as hell and hard to take seriously but also I don’t even care. I’m glad he got some kind of goodbye, since he was always too late to do so as a Recovery agent.

Kinda funny that Wyoming wasn’t there but Florida was, and also South was there even though Wash murdered her in cold blood. Anyway.

When One showed up I felt every emotion I think

Bro where the hell was Donut? There was no good reason for him not to at least show up, maybe on the pelican with One or something. Especially since S16 and S17 were dedicated to an entire arc about how everyone should stop disrespecting Donut, like come on.

Edit: did a little research and it might be because there’s no pink armor in the game this season was filmed in? Which is so hard to believe, since Halo has so many references to RvB. I can’t believe they would just cut out the armor colors of one of the main characters and make it impossible for him to return in the way we know him, it’s messed up.

I know time was short, but I wish we had more time to explore Tucker’s feelings post-Meta. Especially since he killed Sarge, even though it definitely wasn’t his fault. There probably wasn’t enough time to get into all that, but still, he seemed remarkably fine after everything that had happened. I guess that kind of exploration is what AO3 is for lol.

I have mixed feelings about the end for Tex and Church. On one hand, Tex calling herself Allison Church was so sweet and I loved how caring she was, it reminded me of when she said goodbye to Alpha during the Freelancer saga. Also, the fact that there was finally a Church free of the memories of his predecessors felt very satisfying. However, I kind of wish that they could have just had their happily ever after and stayed in the memory unit. I understand the decision—destroying the remaining AI was really the best way to make sure Project Freelancer was put to rest forever—but I kinda feel like she and Church deserved better than simply being put down after everything they’d been through.

One final team kill for Caboose. Ow.

The animation was really, really good!! It looked much better than that plasticky look the trailer had. I didn’t love Epsilon’s animations (they felt a bit jerky and overacted), but otherwise I think they did a really great job. I especially loved how they animated the AI on Tucker’s visor, it looked cool as hell.

I think one of the things this season suffered from was the overall tonal shift in the writing. Burnie hadn’t written for, and Matt hadn’t solely directed, a season in a LONG time. We’ve come to expect more character-focused narratives that dive into the nuisances of the characters and their relationships, and we didn’t really get that here (unless you count Sarge’s deathbed confession to Grif that he was hard on him because he wanted him to be more, which still felt a bit shallow. Actually, there are lot of things which could be considered set-ups in retrospect, but their intended payoffs didn’t feel like payoffs). I think there was a consequential whiplash as compared to what we have come to expect from RvB, and while the writing style we got wasn’t inherently bad (again, I liked a lot of it), it was definitely different.

I really, really hated that Grif left at the end. That’s literally the antithesis of his S15 arc, which felt much more complete and true to the character than this one. It’s impossible not to compare these arcs because of how inherently similar they are, and because I believe the S15 arc is superior (Grif’s exhaustion was a more subtle and believable reaction than this Grif’s raw anger, and his realization of how much he relied on his team was much more powerful than this Grif just tapping out), it makes the S19 Grif arc feel poorly thought out.

Also, he wanted to be discharged, but I don’t think they worked for the UNSC or any other military organization after Chorus since they all retired, so was any of that really necessary? Maybe retirement is just a vessel, so to speak, to represent Grif leaving adventure behind him for good. Still, I liked the way S15 handled this arc a lot more.

Vale Deah. Ow.

NO GRIMMONS??? ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME???

The most we got was Grif leaving and asking Simmons to come with him but like. “not scared to take risks my ass”, Burnie.

Honestly, I think this season was a victim of its format. Eighty minutes isn’t a lot of time to properly send off these characters, especially when RvB as a format is based on multi-season arcs. There just wasn’t enough time to build up tension or explore the dynamics of something as extreme as Meta!Tucker in a way that would feel satisfying. That said, I think Burnie did a pretty good job fitting as many things as he did into this format. A part of me is almost glad that Grimmons wasn’t made canon? I feel like it might’ve felt rushed to give it a satisfying arc in just 80 minutes in addition to all of the other shit going on, and I think after 21 years they deserved at least a satisfying resolution. However, they did NOT deserve an ending which implied that they would never see each other again, what the fuck.

TL;DR? 7.5/10. Far from perfect, and there were a lot of creative decisions made that I heavily disagree with. However, they did a lot right, too, and it still seems heartfelt in a way that helps me overlook some of its flaws. Overall, I enjoyed this season for what it was worth. There are some qualities of S17 that I think made for a better final goodbye to these characters, and some qualities of S19 that I think made for a better goodbye (in all honesty I never finished S18, but it wasn’t really a “goodbye” season anyway). Wrapping up a 21-year-old series is very difficult, and I have a lot of respect for Burnie and the others who worked on Restoration for what they put together. Truthfully, I’m gonna pick and choose which segments of S17 and S19 are canon in my heart (S17 is still the overall canon ending for me), but I’m happy with what we got in the end.

Anyways, I’m happy to chat more in the replies, let me know your thoughts!

#red vs blue #rvb #rvb s19 #rvb restoration #RvB s19 spoilers #RvB restoration spoilers #RvB spoilers #red vs blue spoilers

[everybodyknows-everybodydies]

okay so before I can talk about some things I have to establish some other things, and I'm shaking all the bees out of my brain today with great vigor, which means, without further ado: a brief overview of How Does Restoration Work (according to people named Mouse who are me)

point zero: for the most part, simplistically, each school of magic can be thought of as a manipulation of something. enchanting and conjuration fall under different strains of manipulation of souls, illusion as manipulation of the mind, and so forth. restoration is manipulation of the body.

now first (and this might be stating the obvious lol, but I have to state it): it does not work 1:1 exactly like it does in-game. people do not actually have the handy-dandy HP bar, illness/injury does not translate to a single number ticking downwards, and healing is definitely not just "make number go back up" in a matter of seconds. when you're at a point where a hypothetical HP bar would be nearly depleted, anything that's fast is not going to have the kind of long-term payoff that you need, but it might get you somewhere safer so you have the time to dedicate to actually properly healing.

secondly: in order to fix something, you have to know how it works. magic is a tool; any tool is only as effective as whoever is wielding it. it doesn't take a lot of knowledge to close a paper cut that didn't even bleed, but a severed tendon is going to be a very different story. an accomplished healer must have extensive knowledge of the body and its various systems in order to ensure their healing attempt is not going to inadvertently cause a whole slew of other problems. doctors today go through over a decade of schooling and training; in the US at least you're looking at a minimum of four years of premed, four years of med school, and three to seven years of residency. personally I think healers should also be the school of magic that requires the longest time spent learning because... there IS so much to learn! an additional note is that restoration has the benefit we do not of being magic, though: I think that in a world where healing is executed largely through the hands with magic, it stands to follow that you are not going to want to physically open someone up every time you need to check something inside the body, and so for my purposes this leads us to healers cultivating a specialized, passive sense of the bodily interior through touch. I've described this previously as a bit like echolocation as magic is channelled through the body and allows the healer a sort of "sixth sense" of precisely what's going on and where, though an in-universe analog might be a highly-refined version of "detect life".

(but Mouse, one might say, that's not a restoration spell! correct! the classification of magic is arbitrary! now put a pin in that thought because it will be important at a later date. not today though stay with me here.)

thirdly: as any tool should not be alone in the toolbox, magic can be used as a supplement or supplemented by mundane resources. if you have the time for it, an open wound will benefit from being stitched together to hold shape before applying magical healing, resulting in the need to produce far less scar tissue than a wound that you try to heal without closing it first. you still need to know how to use a tourniquet, how to handle a dislocated shoulder, how to drain an abscess, etc. just like you wouldn't whip out your power tools to hang a single photo frame, you have to know when to rely on magical healing and when to take whatever steps you can non-magically.

fourthly: magical healing has limits. manipulation of the body is not an all-powerful solution. no deus ex machina healing here. the two major restrictions are (1) the body's natural capabilities, and (2) the body's preexisting material. a body is capable of much more than we generally achieve in day-to-day life and nobody is running at 100% capacity 24/7 (because you would die, very fast). restoration can amplify measures that are already in place, such as stimulating platelet clotting/fibrin production over a cut to scab it over rapidly - and then, if taken further, providing the energy for tissue repair to move entirely from cut to scab to scar. crucially you will note that you cannot skip a stage! the healer is using what the body already has available, just allowing it to happen on a compressed timescale by boosting the energy available and providing external direction. there is a LOT of potential regarding what a healer could be capable of just by stimulating production of different hormones or shuffling brain chemistry alone. but! to reiterate! restoration is manipulative, not additive: a healer may be able to reattach a limb if they get to you in time, but they can't grow you a new arm out of nothing.

fourthly, subpoint: magical healing has cost, for both the healer and the patient. the more severe the injury/illness is, the longer it will take to heal and to recover fully from the expedited healing process, and thus the more energy the healer has to expend. a healer is limited most sharply by the depth of their own magicka reserve; practicing to expand the amount of magicka one has access to is just as fundamental a skill as learning anatomy and physiology. this is why most healers don't work alone! being able to literally split up the work - I'll take the broken leg; you focus on the slipped rib - reduces the probability of running out of magicka mid-patient and allows for fewer required follow-up sessions to ensure recovery is proceeding the way it should.

(fourthly, sub-subpoint: this is also why Colette Marence, the only professional healer in Winterhold, deserves a significant raise and a vacation and if anyone asks "is there a healer around" somebody ELSE can take care of it for once-)

fifthly: potions! we know that alchemical concoctions are a separate beast entirely from magic as executed by a mage - namely, I point here to spell absorption/spell reflection not being triggered by drinking a potion. this could take us down a separate rabbit hole about alchemy tapping into the innate magicka stored in reagents and the way THAT works, but for now the relevant question is: how does a healing potion differ from a healing spell? primarily the difference is capacity for intent and direction: a healer, being a person, can focus in on the specific site of injury and identify exactly what's wrong and exactly what steps need to be taken to fix it most efficiently. a potion does not have this capacity for specificity and is instead subject to the direction of the body's natural systems. ingested, it will be dispersed through the digestive system and through the bloodstream; applied as a salve it may work faster, but this usage is limited to external injuries. strong healing potions therefore are great for boosting your natural healing capacities long enough to get you to an actual healer for more serious cases, and may be all someone relies on for less serious cases - similar to using over-the-counter medication for a cold versus going to see a doctor for bronchitis.

tldr: restoration IS a perfectly valid school of magic, and just because it emphasizes mundane knowledge alongside esoteric magical knowledge does not make it any less fascinating or worthwhile. thank you <3

#Mouse talks! #the real TLDR is I love!!! restoration!!!! and magical theory!!!!!! #does this make sense!!! I sure hope so 😭