#it is NOT fun it is EXTREMELY exhausting and VERY painful. and also from what my headmates have told me pretty scary to watch.

[darubyprincx]

ok give me like two hours to write a oneshot about lag-induced chronic pain and its effects on players (specifically in minecraft)

#ray's tag #'ray how do you have such a good idea of what lag feels like' you see. In our headspace when our brain is going a billion miles an hour #i have to focus up here to move around and talk and things #so when our brain is going haywire i am sometimes physically unable to focus #and it affects my physical state pretty heavily. it manifests as me basically glitching the fuck out #it is NOT fun it is EXTREMELY exhausting and VERY painful. and also from what my headmates have told me pretty scary to watch. #so yeah lets just say that i have experience with this sort of thing #also i played mcpe on a kindle fire for almost ten years and my internet connection was TERRIBLE #rip my ping when i tried to play mineplex

[simping-for-joe]

Let Me Steal this Moment From You

Leon Kennedy X reader (soulmate AU)

Part 2

You feel whatever pain your soulmate does, and for the past six years it seems like your soulmate never gets a break

A/N: I haven't seen a soulmate AU for Leon so thought it might be fun to do and I'm cheesy as hell. I also thought about how painful it would be to be anyone from RE's soulmate like this

(Title from the song "Running up that Hill (A Deal with God)" by Kate Bush)

Your soulmate was always someone who got hurt, it seemed like whoever they were they could never stay out of trouble. You got used to it and it was never anything serious until one night. Earlier that night a pain shot up in your back, like almost your back had been slammed against something metal. You decided to go to bed early since the pain was extreme, and it didn't seem to stop.

You shoot up in bed in blinding pain, grasping your shoulder. You screamed out from the shock. Your roommate ran over to you, calling your name but the pain was unbearable almost like you had gotten shot in the shoulder. Tears in your eyes just from the agony of it, your roommate in a complete panic called for an ambulance unsure of what else to do for you. That entire night in the hospital left you in pure pain as your soulmate seemed to be beaten around the entire night.

You thought your soulmate was dead by the time it all settled. You were in just aching pain as you lay in the hospital bed. Your worry consumed your thoughts, worried that something had happened to your soulmate.

"Well... they aren't dead." The doctor suddenly says to you. "You would know if they were, but whatever they just went through was rough." He tells you, looking at a chart. "Seems like it finally settled."

"Is there anything I can do?" You ask worried, and he shakes his head.

"I'm sorry... there's nothing."

There wasn't a ton of pain for the next week or so, but suddenly the pain started coming back. Nothing as extreme as that faithful night, but nothing pretty. A lot of times you would end the day feeling beat up, and exhausted. It made you wonder what changed for them, why was there suddenly so much pain in their life. It made you worried, very worried. It turned into six years of your soulmate being beaten around and hurt.

It was a random day in the fall when you suddenly felt a prick in your neck. You stop and look around, your hand going to your neck. Something was happening to your soulmate today. Nothing too crazy, you've had worse, but it was a bit different from the usual.

You were in your kitchen when there was suddenly a pain in your chest and stomach. You ran over to your sink before you spat up blood. Your eyes widened as you looked down at the sink that had a mix of saliva and blood at the bottom.

"What the hell is going on?" You ask yourself worry filling your chest. That pain stuck with you among the other things you were feeling. It was starting to become like that night again, but it was getting so much worse. A feeling of a cut on your thigh, feeling like you’ve been kicked around. It was non-stop pain, and it wasn’t slowing down.

It was the middle of the night when you screamed out in agony, a heavy pain in your chest. It stopped after a few moments, and you managed to call your mother to tell her what was going on. Tears in your eyes as you explained that your soulmate could be dead with the amount of pain you felt. She tells you to stay calm and to take deep breaths. The sensation starts again, and she says she is going to call an ambulance before hanging up. Everything from there is a pure blur as a doctor and nurses struggle to sedate you, unable to do anything else for your pain.

When you wake up the pain is gone, and your mother sits beside you,

"How are we feeling honey?" She asks you kindly, running a hand through your hair.

"Tired... but okay..." You reply softly almost numbly. Still exhausted from the night before. The doctor comes into the room and asks how you're feeling the usual routine.

"It says here you were hospitalized six years ago due to a similar situation." She notes as she looks at her clipboard.

"Yeah... I was..." You nod gently looking at her. The woman sighs as your mother gently runs a hand through your hair still.

"Look... I don't recommend this to just anyone but there's currently a drug doing testing that numbs the sensation we experience from soulmates." She begins to explain to you. "I'm just saying you've been to the hospital twice because of this. Neither time seemed like a small incident, it's just something worth thinking about."

Your mother loved the idea, but you... you didn't know. The pain let you know they were still there. They were still holding on despite everything and all the pain they had been through, you both have been through. If this was six years ago you would have jumped at the chance to never feel that pain again, but now...

"I need some time..." You reply softly.

"That's understandable, here's the information you'll need if you decide you want to do this." The doctor nods understanding and hands you some papers.

Your thoughts were constantly on your soulmate and their pain, it's been quiet since your hospital visit. Just small things, you were glad they were seemingly getting a break. You were always careful when it came to your own pain not wanting to add any more to theirs.

The drugs were constantly on your mind too, even as you shopped at the store. You accidentally bumped into a man, your thoughts elsewhere.

"Oh! I'm sorry!" You quickly say looking at a rather well-built man, he had the bluest eyes you had ever seen. His lips upturned into a friendly smile no longer in a deep frown, but his eyes had heavy bags underneath them. He looked tired, it made you kinda worried for the stranger. Even if you didn't know him.

"It's alright," he brushes it off. His blonde hair swayed with his movement. He goes on with his day and you do too, but you glance back at him for some reason. Like some part of you was telling you to keep talking to him. You ignored it and went to grab your list from your pocket. As you do your thumb gets a cut, causing you to wince out gently. When you do, you hear someone else wince. Your eyes widened and you turned to the blonde stranger. Who was looking at you too, he had winced. Holding out the same thumb you had just cut, he looks you up and down. Like he was trying to process everything that was going on.

You do something you would have never done for anyone else you pull a stranger into a tight embrace.

"I don't know what you've gone through these past six years, but... I'm so sorry... and I wish I could take that pain from you..." You simply say to him pulling him close to you. He says nothing and does nothing for a moment before he hugs you back. Struggling to hold in his tears as he feels the warmest embrace he's felt in a long time.

Your soulmate Leon Kennedy has the weight of the world on his shoulders. It's a good thing you are there to make it a little easier.

#resident evil #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #fanfic #x reader #soulmates au #angst #hurt/comfort #no use of y/n #might do a leon version

[phoebepheebsphibs]

And the story goes on…

Spoiler warning for Until I Found You Lore.... CW: Mentions of torture, abuse, and experimentation.

@boots-with-the-fur-club @daboyau

Prev || Next || Reference image for Mikey’s scars || illustration

Mikey couldn't stop sobbing.

The other Donnie was writhing on the floor, screaming in pain as he gripped his head tightly. Something was wrong, something was very very VERY wrong...

But Michael could only watch and cry and shout at his brother to "Open the thing, open the thing up, Donnie! OPEN THE ORB!!"

"I'm trying!" his brother yelled back. "It's a different design from my tech, I'm doing the best I can considering I don't have my tools with me and I'm using my bare hands--"

The alternate Donnie started shrieking in agony, his cries ringing through the halls and echoing mercilessly in Mikey's head. He falls to his knees, the glowing marks on his arms and legs turning that evil shade of blue.

"PLEASE, DONNIE, HE'S HURTING! I CAN'T DO ANYTHING FROM IN HERE, PLEASE--"

"WELL EITHER GET APRIL TO POOF YOU OUT OR -- GOT IT, I GOT IT, I GOT THE THING TO OPEN!" UIFY Donnie yelled back, finally hacking into the sphere and causing the shields to dissipate. Immediately the three fall forwards, with Mikey regaining his footing at once and pouncing at the quivering Donatello on the floor.

Mikey wrapped his arms around Donnie, sobbing into his shoulder as he pressed his hands against his shell and the back of his head. A soft, warm amber glow began to spread over the shaking softshell, his eyes slowly refocusing as he turned and stared down at the copy of his brother. Apparently this Mikey was also in-tune with his mystic powers. Amazing, considering the age gap between him and the other Mikey, and the fact that they'd not even known about mystic abilities until they'd met Draxum and taken his magic weapons for themselves. This one must've been practicing magic for a while... Donnie's headache ceased. He watched as the tiny, trembling version of his brave baby brother kept pressing his small and delicate hands against his shell and neck, quietly mumbling to himself - praying possibly, or perhaps reciting a magic spell. Whatever he did, it helped tons. But it seemed to exhaust the poor kid as he slumped over, his head rolling into the crook of Donnie's neck and shoulder. Michael's soft, slow breaths tickled uncomfortably against his sensitive skin, and he flinched.

"Michael, get off of him!" the other Donnie said, coming forward and pulling the kid away. "If this Donnie's anything like me, he doesn't like to be touched. Especially after... whatever the heck happened to him."

"I-it's fine, he helped, he... What exactly did he do?" Donnie asked, slowly getting to his feet.

Donatello Von Draxum picked the child up and held him close to his chest. Mikey had fainted, it seemed, though his eyes fluttered open and shut several times. His head lolled from side to side, rolling around as if he was trying to force himself to stay awake but failing utterly. He mumbled softly, muttering whispers to no one specifically before finally succumbing to the exhaustion and resting his head against his brother.

"I'm... not exactly sure," Donatello Von Draxum mumbled, slowly pulling the bandages from Mikey's arms and checking for any mystic injuries. "Best guess is... he leant you some of his strength."

"His strength?" Dee questioned.

"Whatever you needed in the moment. Strength, presence of mind, life-force, that kind of stuff. It could explain why he's so sleepy now."

"Will he be alright?!" Donnie asked, hoping he didn't just cause a version of his brother to be in a vegetative state for the rest of his life.

"He's okay. He just needs a nap. It's nothing too extreme." Donatello Von Draxum looked over Donnie with concern. "YOU on the other hand..."

"Yeah. That was not fun."

"No fun in fungus, huh?"

"Roll credits," April interjected, having gone to retrieve Donnie's tech-bō for him.

"Very clever. I suppose... we should go look for Raphael now," Dee decided as he took the staff from the Mayhem-ified April.

"Are you sure you don't want to rest?" she asked, eyeing him nervously. "Those things have a way of draining you. Physically, just as much as emotionally."

"I am fine," Donnie insisted. "But you've got some... something on your arm."

"What?" April asked, looking down at said appendage, which had a black and blue smear across it. "Oh, ew, gross. It's the goo from that hand.PNG. Yuck! I didn't even notice that..."

Mutant April wiped the sludge off onto her jacket.

"No worries, I think I'm all good."

"What about Michael?" Donnie asked, pointing to the still out-of-it box turtle in DvD's arms.

"I can carry him," he insisted. "He weighs practically nothing. We'll be coming along."

"Good, the more help we can get the better. I don't think it's safe for anyone to split up anymore. Let's go find my Raph and your brothers," Donnie said, taking the lead.

The four walked on through the hallways, Mikey mumbling or muttering and even humming in his dazy sleep as they searched for the others. Donnie kept glancing over at him to make sure he really was okay. He seemed fine. It reminded him of the time his April had gotten her wisdom teeth removed, she'd sent them a video her mom had taken of her after she'd woken up from the surgery. They guys all had a big laugh over it, how loopy and looney she'd been, constantly gibbering about nothing and then falling back asleep. The memory made him smile a little. It helped to alleviate the stress, to simply pretend that was what had happened to this Mikey. And not that he'd sacrificed some part of himself for Donnie's sake. And not even for his Donnie's sake, for a complete stranger.

It was so unbelievably awkward.

The two Donnies barely said a word to each other. Donnie kept giving glances at Mikey and DvD would catch him, and Donnie's head would snap in the opposite direction. Poor April was stuck in the middle of their silence, doing her best to lighten the mood but eventually giving up and straying ahead of them.

Donatello glanced over at Mikey again. Michael had made some small squeaking sound - a yawn maybe - and curled up into his brother's hold. The bandages on his arm were loose... That's right, DvD had checked his arms earlier for cracks -- had that meant that there might actually be some danger to whatever spell he'd used to help Donnie?! He could see the cracks right there! DvD said he was fine, but Donnie could clearly see the holes and thin lines made from --

Holes?

Mikey's overuse of ninpo didn't make holes, they made cracks like broken glass that webbed across his arms! So, where had...

"Did you... want to hold him or something?" DvD asked.

Donatello was startled from his train of thought and realized he'd been staring at Mikey for too long.

"Oh! Um, no I didn't -- unless that is, you would like a break?"

"Like I said, he's not that heavy," Donatello Von Draxum repeated flatly.

"I recall. I was just worried for him, is all, and I--"

"You were staring at him."

"Oh, was I?"

"Quite obviously so."

"Ah. I apologize for the social faux pas of staring rudely at your brother."

Silence again.

"But do you want to hold him?"

"You are... offering?"

"Your brother is gone, for the moment," DvD stated. "And I saw how you looked at my Mikey. For you, there is precious little to distinguish the two. Correct?"

"Well... I suppose they are very similar," Donnie ceded.

"And he undoubtedly considers you family as well."

"That is evident, considering what he did for me."

"That's your fault, you know."

"Excuse me?" Donnie sputtered, stopping in his tracks. "How is it my fault for saving you three from getting spored?"

"Apologies, I misspoke. I merely meant that you did something that reminded him of... of something bad that happened to us."

"Then am I to assume that's why he reacted the way he did?"

"Precisely."

"I see."

Donnie looked down at the alt. Mikey, still fast asleep. He was so much smaller than his brother. So... petite. No, Miniscule. Maybe Runty. Donnie kept searching for the right word. Not weak, or tiny, he was so...

Frail. That was the word. Thin limbs connected to a slip of a body, a tiny round face with baby cheeks so slim and slender. He was just too small.

"...I think I will carry him. If only to relieve you of duty for a short while."

"Very well," DvD relented, carefully exchanging his brother into Donnie's arms. Donnie had carried his Mikey before, and even his Leo. Heck, he'd carried all three of his brothers on more than one occasion. He'd let them grab onto his legs or arms while he flew above the city with his hover-shell. It was quite a feat, all of them clinging together like the barrel of monkeys toys from their childhood. And he'd gotten his leg dislocated from its socket for the trouble, but that was nothing too bad really, and Leo had helped fix him up. He desperately missed his brothers... All this to say he knew what to expect, to carry a slightly smaller version of his baby bro.

The alt. Mikey was placed into his hold.

Ooooooh pizza supreme in the sky this kid literally weighed nothing.

Donnie's eyes widened. He'd expected some kind of difficulty, some weight, but no -- it was like carrying air. The only weight he could feel was from the clothes, it seemed. He'd estimated this Mikey to weigh somewhere in the vicinity of 70 pounds, maybe even 65. It felt like he weighed no more than 10.

"He's... he's so light..." Donnie's voice trembled.

"I did say he weighs almost nothing," DvD smirked.

"I thought you were using hyperbole!" Donnie snapped. "When was the last time this Mikey was weighed? He should have more tone in his muscles than this!"

"Well, years of near-starvation will result in major weight loss."

"Mikey -- my Mikey -- said he told him a bit about his life... but I never imagined..."

He never imagined this kind of troubled life for him. He knew the kid had a hypoglycemic condition, too. He couldn't imagine how difficult that had to have been for him. No wonder he was so skinny, his clothes baggy and nearly falling off of him, the bandages... Donnie's attention was brought back to the little boy's arms.

"...How did he get these...?" he asked softly, pulling the bandages off and showing the other Donnie the scars and marks on his arms.

Donatello Von Draxum went pale. He almost looked sick to his stomach, as he slowly re-wrapped the bandages for Mikey.

"...Those were my fault."

"Your fault?" Donnie was astonished. His voice came out as barely a whisper.

"Partly. Some of them were from me, some were from my father-- ahem. From Draxum."

"Draxum did this?" Donnie's blood began to boil. "But... why? And why did you--"

"The story is that I had left the Baron to try and start a new family with Mikey, Leonardo, and Raphael. I'd been... planning to trick our brothers into returning to Draxum so that they could join his army of mutants against the humans, but eventually I realized I couldn't go through with it. So I left without saying a word. Draxum got wind that his other experiments survived, and started searching for them. He found Mikey first, kidnapped him, and left a calling card for me so that I would know where he was. I confronted him, only to end up in a trap. He... he wanted me to return home and help him experiment on Michael."

"Did you?" Donnie asked, drawing the small child closer to him, holding him tightly to his chest.

"I had to. He threatened to torture Mikey, to intentionally sabotage his experiments on him and hurt him if I didn't assist. I had no choice. To ensure Michael's safety... I had to do whatever Draxum ordered me to. Day after day, it was nothing but surgery after surgery after blood test after--"

"I thought you said experiments," Donnie growled. Mikey whimpered in his hold; Donnie readjusted him slightly so he could rub his head to soothe him.

"That's what he told me, initially..." DvD continued. "But on the first day... he revealed his experiments were more medically-based than he'd lead me to believe. But I couldn't say no. He was going to inspect his spine, I had to stay and make sure he didn't--!"

Donatello Von Draxum covered his mouth as he gagged at the memory. His hands trembled.

"...It... It was inhumane. Unethical. Horrible. Even Huginn and Muninn - whom I don't typically get along with well but tolerated more than Draxum - agreed that his tests were unreasonable and not meant so much to inspect Michael's state but more so to punish me for having left Draxum and kept my brothers a secret from him. And Draxum kept it up for seven whole days. Most experiments and examinations were him cutting into Mikey with a scalpel and studying his skeletal structure and veins and nervous system first-hand. The rest were to see how his body reacted to certain potions and formulas and magic spells, to test his mystic endurance. He wanted to see if he could be a strong warrior... and if not, he wanted to see if he had any mystic talent."

"All that... just to know whether or not Mikey had mystic abilities?"

"I don't have any magic ability myself," DvD explained. "I know all the spells and potion recipes, I understand how to do it, and I know how it all works but... I'm disconnected from it. Draxum was always disappointed with me over that. He hoped that Mikey would show some promise."

"What happened?"

"He took it too far. On the sixth day, Draxum told me that Michelangelo possessed the greatest capacity for mystic power and ability to date."

"He what?!" Donnie yelled, forgetting the sleeping figure in his hands. "I mean, I know my Mikey became the greatest mystic warrior in the future, but... to have surpassed everything?"

"It came as a shock to me, as well. And Draxum said... He said he was going to take Mikey's powers away from him and then set him free. But it was all a lie. He was going to kill him... I fought with Draxum. I won. I took Mikey home."

Donatello could tell he was intentionally leaving out some big parts of the story. But based off of everything, he figure it was best to leave it unsaid.

"So that's why... Mikey leapt at the chance to help me," Donnie whispered. "Why he was so upset when he saw me hurting... it reminded him of you?"

"Yes. And it is also why he wears those bandages, though the wounds have long since healed."

"Why is that?"

"Because he knows that I feel responsible for that hurt. I did that to him. I helped to cut him open and chisel into his shell. I hurt him. But I'll never let anything hurt him ever again."

Donnie nodded, understanding that protective drive. He felt the same way about his brothers.

"In that case... maybe you'll want to carry him again?" Dee offered.

Donatello Von Draxum didn't even try to politely decline. He immediately reached over and took the boy away, who at this point was slowly coming out of his sleepy stupor. DvD held Mikey on his hip, letting him rest his head against his shoulder. Mikey groggily wrapped his arms around his brother's neck in a hug, yawning once more before going back to sleep. The son of Draxum felt the deep inhale and exhale from his little brother against his chest, proof that he was alive and well and trusted him above all else. DvD smiled, the first time Donnie had seen him smile -- really smile, not just an evil grin at the mention of humanity's destruction -- since he'd first met him.

"Do you think... my Mikey is okay?" Dee asked after the silence began to return.

"I am sure he is. He has you to look out for him. You'll rescue him, and all will be well again."

Donnie smiled.

"I hope so..."

"Hey, you lazy-bones!" April shouted. She'd gained a lot more ground than them during this bonding episode. "Hurry it up! I think I found one of the guys!"

…I have failed you, master. My injuries… they impede me.

They are inconsequential, my dear disciple. Rest easy, for you are still needed. You've done well thus far. But there is still much to be done if I am to take over this realm. So many tragedies to intercede, so many traumas to feed off of, so many toys to play with and BREAK.

But what of the others? Without my work—

I shall finish my collection soon enough. You did your part, and now we have a new player. Our new deliverer of destruction. They shall lead the others to their doom.

A new...? Do you mean you have infected one of the children? They serve our cause now?

Indeed, thanks to you.

How intriguing... but who...?

Rest for now, and regain your strength. Your services are yet to be utilized.

Very well... whom shall we be expecting to join us next, my master?

...I want the big one.

#rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #tutant meenage neetle teetles #rottmnt mikey #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt april #mutant april #teenage mutant ninja turtles fanart #no fun in fungus #fear spores #fear fungus #until i found you au #rottmnt until i found you #until i found you #separated au #lore drop #cw surgery #cw abuse #cw experimentation #tw surgery #tw abuse #tw experimentation

[i-starcreamed]

Angst Mtmte Headcanons with Rodimus, Swerve, Tarn, Ratchet? Either human or cybertronain s/o works!

Their s/o and them get back from a fight. Everything’s fine and they’re like celebrating. But little do they know their s/o has been hiding a fatal injury 😈

HII THANK YOU FOR BEING PATIENT WITH YOUR REQUEST! Sorry this took like a month...anyways this was a very fun ask ngl. But also this is an absolute nightmare for Ratchet in like, every single one of them besides Tarn, my bad. Just stop dying, Y/N

[ cybertronian!reader CW: angst, death, near-death, injuries, i think you get it

post includes: Rodimus, Tarn, Swerve, and Ratchet]

(can you tell i like this gif?)

RODIMUS

The enemy was defeated, a couple of injured crew members were rushed to the med bay, but all was good now. The danger has passed. Rodimus bore a look of exhausted but relieved contentment, both of you have emerged unscathed from the ordeal.

Except…you held a servo to your side, your face scrunched up when you tried to walk but brushed it off to your lover that you were sore from the fight. 

"Do you really think it's a good idea to go without a checkup from Ratchet?" Rodimus asked, his face betraying his concern. "We had one hell of a fight back there, and I don't want you getting hurt and putting that stunning frame of yours in danger," he managed to smile, but the worry was still obvious in his expression.

“I’m fine, just a little sore is all. I’ll just disengage my pain receptors and I’ll be a-okay” you forced a smile.

That you did, but it didn’t stop you from feeling other symptoms besides pain

As soon as his attention was turned away from you, you took your energon-stained servo off your side, revealing an open wound. It was small, and should usually bleed slowly, but this time it threatened to be a big deal—it was connected to one of your main fuel lines. You glanced at the bots celebrating around you, some missing due to attending their friends in the med bay after the fight.

Ratchet had better things to focus his efforts on, and you saw others far worse off than yourself. You clung desperately to the tiny hope that you would still be standing when all the others were healed. Feeling suddenly unsteady, you leaned against the wall for support, your vision beginning to blur. Come on, not now! You willed your legs to move forward as you made your way toward Rodimus and the rest of the bots he was addressing. You’ll last a little longer.

By the time Rodimus notices you’re horribly injured, it's already too late. You're in his arms, the spark inside you weak and flickering as a large amount of your energon leaves a trail from his racing form. He desperately rushes you to the medbay, his servos shaking and trembling as he pleads with Ratchet to save your life. His voice grows louder as he begs for a miracle, primus help you

“You have to help her, you have to help her!”

The light has gone out from your optics, your spark hums quietly. When Ratchet takes your vitals, he gives Rodimus a look. And oh, he knows what that look means. 

He’s angry, he’s upset, he rushes to hold you one last time. He should have realized earlier, he should’ve taken you to Ratchet even if you said you were fine. He should’ve. 

SWERVE

It was one of those battles where everyone was needed; you and Swerve had to look out for each other. You two weren't the toughest or biggest fighters on your team but hey, by the end, you two managed to help out in some way.  

Why not host a small celebration at Swerve’s? Most of the crew was already there, having a drink or chatting. You stayed behind to get checked up by Ratchet but promised Swerve you’d join him soon after.

After the full-fledged battle, you felt dizzy and tired, but you figured it was just due to your extreme exhaustion. Little did you know, there was a malfunction in your inner circuits that had been spreading quickly, rapidly shutting down your functions. If you were well enough to think clearly and logically about the situation at hand, perhaps the malfunction would have horrified you more than it did… However, with the malfunction putting an extra load on your thoughts and movements it became very difficult for you to think straight. You must have been hit by something, but you don’t even remember what.

Ratchet asked if you wanted to call Swerve, but you said no. You didn't want to worry him. But then again, your spark panged at the thought of never seeing him again, of never getting to say goodbye. Time was running out and at this point, all you had left was the ability to message him through your communicator.

The minibot rushed as fast as he could to see you, but when he arrived and saw the state you were in, his spark sank. You were hooked up to all these machines that seemed to be the only thing keeping you alive. But at least you were still conscious, thankfully

“Oh, oh…y/n why didn’t you tell me? I could’ve, we could’ve…why?”

“I didn’t want to worry you.”

“Oh..y/n..” tear coolant(?) comes out of both your optics.

“Nonono wait, can you please hel-” The look on the medic’s face was enough to answer his pleas. There was nothing that could be done anymore. 

“Swerve” you muttered, your servo reaching out. “It’s okay.” 

The minibot grasped your servo tightly, his desperate grip conveying the understanding that this would be the last time he would have the chance to.

TARN

You knew being alongside the DJD was dangerous, hell, you were dangerous. The team of overly Megatron-obsessed mechs surprisingly had each other's back. You were with Tarn, too. You were basically unstoppable. 

So when you felt that shot hit your chassis, and the energon quickly leaking out of your wound, you had no idea what happened. You fell to your knees in front of the deceased Decepticon traitor whom you had just seen fall right before their blast had hit you. You were turned away from your team and their delight as they celebrated his death without any knowledge of what had happened to you. As those behind you laughed and commended each other for their victory

“Did you see how they finished them off? Absolutely cruel.” Your conjunx bragged to the others. His footsteps approached when you didn’t move from your spot. “Y/N?”

Before he had a chance to witness the pool of energon forming in front of you, you quickly whipped your helm around, frantically trying to hide your dizziness by plastering a smile on your face. "Stubborn one, huh? I'll be..I'll be with you in a moment," your words slurred slightly and Tarn took a step closer. “What was that? Are you alright?”

“YES, yes, I’m just… admiring this. You know how I feel about spilled energon”. Your servo tightened on the wound as you pondered if applying enough pressure would speed up the healing process.

Tarn paused for a moment then went to place a servo on your shoulder. “That’s my-” His optics widened when he saw your servo clutched around your wound.

"What happened?" Tarn demanded, dropping to his knees beside you and examining the wound. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want to worry you," you replied weakly, trying to hide the pain in your voice. "I thought it was just a graze, but it hurts more than I thought it would."

Tarn's optics softened as he looked at you, his hand moving to gently caress your cheek. "Just a graze…” He scoffed. “You foolish, stubborn bot," he murmured affectionately. "You know I would never forgive myself if something happened to you."

“I’m sorry,” you winced. Realization hit him like a ton of bricks - you were dying and needed medical attention immediately. His spark hurt. Despite it all, he musters up enough courage to pick you up in his arms and take you away to safety, struggling to keep his composure as he does so.

Your optics shut off, and he realized he might need to figure out his last words to you. He clutched his fists. 

RATCHET

He would never forgive himself if a fatal injury went unnoticed, especially if you were his patient. And yet, somehow it happened

Many of the crew members were injured, and few needed urgent medical attention but you knew Ratchet would be busy.

Despite his complaints and grumbling, Ratchet had agreed to scan you as soon as he was done tending to his critically-injured patients.

You had a deep slice way too close to your spark, you were bleeding out. You were able to use a medical patch tucked away in your subspace to temporarily stop the bleeding, but it's like applying a bandage to a bullet wound a little too close to the heart.

You realized you may have fucked up when you started to feel lightheaded and your sensors suddenly weren't working so well. You limped your way to the medbay, but didn't manage to make it. You groaned as the energon seeped from underneath the patch, you slid down the wall just a couple steps away from the entrance. The last thing you saw was a blur exit the medbay and run towards you before your optics powered off.

Ratchet’s optics widened when you were carried into the medbay by a bot he had just finished working on. He took off the patch to reveal the fatal wound, he could only stand there as your spark weakly glowed underneath all your inner systems. 

Why hadn’t you told him? Why didn’t he make sure? He knew your spark was too weak and wouldn’t make it but he still desperately tried to seal any area where energon was flowing from, occasionally cursing at himself when his servos would be too shaky. 

“C'mon, c'mon. Primus, damnit. Don't you dare give up on me now."

He couldn't accept the truth, he held his helm in his servos when your spark completely stopped functioning. 

He agreed to have a drink at Swerve’s with you after everyone was healed, just one. And now that moment would never come. 

#mtmte #maccadam #transformers #transformers x reader #swerve x reader #mtmte swerve #mtmte x reader #mtmte tarn #tarn x reader #ratchet x reader #mtmte ratchet #rodimus x reader #mtmte rodimus #lost light #angst #cybertronian reader #romantic headcanons #are these even considered HCs...i went too overboard I think

[save-the-villainous-cat]

hmmmmm how about villain trying to calm down hero (who's so fed up w/ their job, snapped and tried to kill v nearly 5 minutes ago)?

“You’re a bit of a psycho, don’t you think?” It only added fuel to the fire which the hero was right now, forming two very, extremely, small pupils and a death stare that was in the last stage of actually working on the villain. They held up their hands in defense. “Just saying.”

“Psychopath doesn’t even mean crazy, you dumb fuck,” the hero spat before they punched the villain again, this time harder, hard enough for them to take a few steps back and hold their bloody nose. It wasn’t enough to wipe that smirk off their face, though.

“Gosh, someone didn’t have a good night,” the villain said, laughing as the blood ran down their fingers. They probably looked a little unhinged like this but they had also shot some politicians on live TV earlier this year…it couldn’t really get worse than that, could it?

“I’m gonna skin you alive,” the hero promised.

“I doubt you have the expertise to do that, but it would be cute to see you try.” The bleeding had only just begun but the villain lowered their hands and grabbed one of the many hidden knives their suit offered. “This is fun.”

Though the hero delivered another hard blow, the villain managed to block and twist their arm, putting enough force into it to make the hero hiss in pain. The villain smiled to themselves when they managed to disarmed their enemy and hold them close, arms pinning their bodies against each other. The hero was strong but they were also a very simple person. Predictable fighting patterns usually occurred after a while in battle.

Adorable, really. But not beneficial for winning.

Blood from their nose dropped onto the hero’s shoulder.

With a hum, the villain pressed a blade against the hero’s throat but despite the struggle, nothing happened, the hero’s back was touching the villain’s chest. Cursing, the hero tried to wiggle themselves free.

“You’re a feisty kitten today. Love it.”

“Fuck off,” the hero replied. However, the villain only chuckled and pulled them closer.

“So tense today, darling. What’s gotten you all worked up?” The hero continued to struggle but the villain could tell their fight lost its spark as exhaustion overwhelmed them. Weakly they clawed at the villain’s arm and let the back of their head rest on the villain’s shoulder. It was more like their fingers dug into them to stay on their feet but the villain thought that to be quite impossible right now.

“I hate you,” they whispered.

“Congrats, get in line,” the villain joked but only silence echoed. The hero stopped the theatrics and stilled, somehow holding onto the villain in a desperate manner.

“They killed my sidekick,” the hero said and the shaking of their voice turned into a broken melody. “Suicide mission. They killed them.”

Oh.

“Christ—” The villain let go of them and when the hero turned around, the villain saw the tears rolling down their face. “Holy shit, I’m so sorry.”

“I don’t want this,” the hero said. “I don’t know if I want to kill every single person in this city or if I want to forget and move on. Eating is difficult. Stop eating is difficult. I don’t know what’s going on. I feel this anger all the time and it makes me sick and it exhausts me.”

The villain knew that feeling all too well. After losing their first sidekick, they had decided to never work with anyone ever again. They knew the hero had successfully trained two sidekicks already.

One for sorrow, two for mirth, three for a funeral.

“I’m sorry,” the villain said. “I’m really sorry.”

“I want to quit.”

“I don’t want you to.” The hero shot them an evil gaze.

“It’s not about what you want. It’s about what I want.”

“But if you’re quitting, I’m quitting and then I won’t have a job anymore,” the villain said. The hero seemed agitated again which was definitely better than being sad. Grief was messed up and the villain preferred being angry. “I need this job.”

“Then don’t quit?!”

“You know I can’t do that.”

“Not everything is about you.”

“Alright. Revenge. We kill those who killed your sidekick,” the villain suggested and the hero…froze. Eyes wide, mouth open, very much quiet. “We work together and make them pay.”

They had never thought they’d say these words ever again.

#and then villain has a breakdown during the mission #obviously cuz the hero got hurt #writing snippet #heroxvillain snippet #heroxvillain prompt #heroes and villains #hero #villain #hero x villain #heroxvillain #an answer for an ask #request

[i-am-the-oyster]

Hi there, I also have a quick question about this post (Paul's guilt about hurting John, possibly evidenced in song notes during the making of RAM, and its source—that he left John, despite having promised not to).

Are you saying Paul felt guilty towards John, and knew why, during the making of RAM? And, if so, how would you square this with Paul's notorious 'grief rant' phonecall with Hunter Davies shortly after John's death, where Paul appears not only upset by the idea that he hurt John, but also unaware of what he could have done to cause this hurt?

"But what had really got Paul upset that day was an interview with Yoko in which Yoko was quoted as saying that Paul had hurt John more than any other person. Paul thought they were amongst the cruelest words he ever read." (Hunter Davies grief rant fun)

Was Paul bullshitting Hunter? (Go, Paul)

Was Paul being defensive and angry b/c Yoko blamed him for hurting John in public?

Was Paul not surprised to hear he'd hurt John (after all, they hurt each other often), but struck by the 'more than any other person' part?

I don't mean to say you're right or wrong. I'm just curious to hear you elaborate on this. Meaning, your take on Paul's guilt, and how accessible it was to him consciously. I've long been thinking about him hearing this claim, 'you hurt him more than anyone else', and how different that would have landed, depending on how aware/guilty he felt.

(Whether Paul was right to feel guilty or not is a completely different matter, and doesn't play a role on my question.)

Thank you for the wonderful meaty (sorry Paul!) ask!

I think Paul *did* feel guilty at the time, but I wouldn't exactly say Paul was bullshitting Hunter. The thing that always jumps out at me from that transcript is where Paul says:

There's only one incident I can think of that John has mentioned publicly.

(emphasis mine)

Isn't that an interesting distinction in the context? It makes me think that there were deeply private things that they each did to the other but Paul feels certain that those things would never end up the subject of public discussion.

I don't buy the image of Paul as lacking self-awareness or self-reflection. BUT he is extremely good at re-framing things in a positive way "so many times I had to change the pain to laughter" AND he is a very contrary person. He seems to often instinctively push against whatever narrative the person opposite him is proposing, especially where the topic needs some nuance. (eg the one time he approaches the topic of Jim's violence is in response to Stern pushing Paul's own "idyllic childhood" bit).

So back to the version of their story that had in mind when I made my original post. (Which I'm not married to, but seems like a plausible scenario worth exploring). Paul and John are in a codependent relationship, John has clearly expressed his terror that Paul might leave (as he did with Cyn). John's behaviour has become erratic and (at least borderline) abusive. Paul knows that if he lets go John will "take a tumble", but he's exhausted and Linda is teaching him to take his own desires and needs into account in a much healthier way. (Not to suggest Paul was never selfish in the 60s lol, but he wasn't practicing actual self-care).

John is spiraling, and pushing Paul away in that heartbreaking pattern I call "see I knew you were going to leave". (I'm sure there must be a name for it in psychology). Linda doesn't yet realise the depth of feeling she's dealing with. Paul knows how terrified John is, he's promised he won't be like the others, he won't leave. But he can't do it any more. John finally convinces him that he actually wants him to leave, he bawls his eyes out in front of Mal, and he disappears to Scotland.

I think he would be absolutely wracked with guilt.

And then I think as part of his recovery from that depression he would reassure himself that he did need to leave, that it was the right choice, that he and John could continue to care about one another deeply and move on.

I think Yoko's statement was unnecessarily cruel hurt him, and triggered that contrary response. What's she even talking about? What did I do? The worst ever?!

Thanks again!

#that got tangenty #i hope you like text :) #crepe ask #paul's guilt #the breakup

[triscribeaucollection]

History Reversed

Yet another Time Travel AU. I ought to be famous for ‘em by now, right?

---

Wolffe kept a hand close to his blaster.

He didn’t know what was going on, who the Togruta hugging his general really was, because like kriff could that actually be Tano. A couple of discrete hand signals to the troopers behind him got them to separate, spread out, just in case the need arose for stun shots. After a moment’s hesitation, he also pressed a button on his wrist comm to summon a medical squad.

The Togruta looked pretty singed, after all. And they’d scanned further lifeforms aboard the damaged ship, too. Potential mindtrick plot or not, it wouldn’t hurt to have some stretchers nearby, just in case.

And speaking of other lifeforms...

A male Human cautiously scooted down the ramp next, maybe thirty, thirty-five standard. He looked a little better dressed than the Togruta, but with even more mud caked up to his knees, and a much more wary expression on his scarred face. Wolffe could see a holster hanging from his belt - two compartments, one holding a blaster, the other a lightsaber.

“Ahsoka?” The man asked. Wolffe’s fingers twitched.

The Togruta pulled back from his general, smiling through her tears. “Ezra. This- this is Jedi Master Plo Koon. He found me, when I was little. Brought me to the Jedi Temple.”

“Wait- Wolffe’s Plo Koon?” Even as he asked, the man looked up and around, scanning the clone troopers until his gaze landed on- “Commander Wolffe?”

And the fun times just kept on rolling. Reluctant in the extreme, Wolffe reached up to tug his bucket off, and came a few steps closer. From the better angle, he could make out more of the Togruta’s facial markings, and- they did look like Tano’s. Just. Bigger. Stretched, a bit, like when a clone cadet snuck a tattoo onto their skin, only for it to distort when they kept growing and packing on more muscle. Wolffe eyed her, and then eyed the Human, arching a single brow.

The second stranger made a stunned noise. “Holy kriff, that is Wolffe.”

“Wait until you see Rex,” his companion laughed, and-

Well.

Jedi did get into all sorts of bantha-shit with the Force. He’d heard more than enough stories from brothers serving with generals far less careful than his own. Maybe, maybe, Wolffe could believe this was, somehow, an older Ahsoka Tano.

She introduced her friend as Ezra Bridger, Jedi Knight, and then the three kids who tumbled down next as Jacen, Alora, and Pypey, Padawan Learners. And after them- “This is Luke, and his daughter Jaina. She needs serious medical attention.”

A Master and Initiate. A Master, who looked haggard, and exhausted, moving slowly as if the whole galaxy had just come crashing down onto his shoulders, and the only thing keeping him moving at all was the child cradled against his chest. A child, practically a baby Jedi, who bore the wounds of a battlefield and was missing most of an entire limb. Wolffe nearly growled at the sight, double tapping the button on his comm to get the medical team to hurry the hell up.

To their credit, his men spilled into the hangar not thirty seconds later, moving at a brisk jog and not hesitating to come straight up to the group of unknown Jedi. The Ithorian kid and older Human girl were situated on one stretcher, pressed together as their blaster wounds with hastily-affixed bacta patches were looked over. Little Jaina was placed more carefully on the other, the Wolfpack’s CMO muttering furiously to himself as he checked over her worst injury.

Wolffe knew damn well what lightsaber damage looked like.

To his credit, the girl’s father managed to hold himself together after setting her down, and stayed standing through the initial examination. But the very instant the medical team wheeled his daughter and the other kids out, Ezra going with them, Luke dropped to his knees without so much as a flicker of warning.

He didn’t make a sound. Sure looked like he wanted to, though, judging by the painful mix of grief and despair on his face. Ahsoka folded herself down beside him, wrapping an arm around the man’s shoulders, and Wolffe’s general wound up kneeling as well.

“She-” Luke’s jaw spasmed trying to get the words out. “She ran- ran to Ben. Before I- I couldn’t-” A broken sob clawed its way out, and he lifted a hand to press to his face. A prosthetic hand, Wolffe noted with a flinch of surprise. No cover or synth-skin molding, just bare metal.

“Who is Ben?” General Plo asked softly.

“Luke’s padawan,” Ahsoka answered, at the same time Luke himself said, “My nephew.”

Karking hells. That didn’t sound like the start of a fun story.

#star wars #star wars sequals #star wars the clone wars #time travel au #fan fiction #work in progress #ahsoka tano #ezra bridger #luke skywalker #plo koon #commander wolffe #fix-it fic #and by fix-it I don't just mean canon #I was very mean to these characters in a couple other fics #and this is my apology

[ctitan98official]

RE8 women get pregnant by Y/N: Elena

Okay, so a while ago someone requested angst involving the RE8 women falling out of love with Y/N. The first one I did in that series was for Alcina. You can read it here! It’s the backstory for this! I have been thinking about it and I want to expand on the AU so here we go. This one’s somewhat dark. Let’s get into it!

When Alcina cheated on you and broke your heart, you thought there was a good chance you might never recover.

You cut ties with her immediately for your own mental health. You couldn’t stand to be around her any longer.

Things got better after a few months, though. You even met somebody new.

Elena Lupu was easily the kindest person in the village. She and her father, Leonardo, took you in when you offered to be his carpentry apprentice.

As gruff as Leonardo could be, he liked you. He knew that Elena had developed feelings for you as well, but he decided to stay out of it and let you two figure things out for yourselves.

Elena went for walks with you through the village and happily clung onto your arm as you two talked.

You felt yourself begin to crave her presence and realized that you had developed a crush on her.

After a few months of dating, you ended up asking Elena if she would marry you (With Leonardo’s permission first, of course!)

Your wedding, while not fancy, was beautiful.

“Y/N, I never knew I could be so happy. I love you, sweetie.” She says and kisses you during your first dance at the reception.

“I love you, babe. You healed me. You make everything better.” You smile back.

The reception was a lot of fun. As you were hanging out with some buddies and having a drink, Alcina actually had the nerve to show up… Admittedly, you had only seen her from down the street, but why would she try to crash your wedding?

You go up to her and hear what she has to say.

Alcina tearfully apologizes and asks you to come back.

You angrily told her how pathetic it was of her to come and try to fix things after so much time had passed. You walked away leaving Alcina sobbing.

You felt guilty about what you had said, but it also felt kind of good to inflict a bit of pain after the torment and hell she put you through.

——————————————————————————

A couple of months later, you and Elena had moved into your own little house.

Elena woke you up every morning with a kiss to your lips and some cuddles. It was the best way to start the day.

You still worked as a carpenter, but you had now started working with Leonardo as more of a partner.

After a long and exhausting day, it was so nice to come home to your lovely wife.

Lately though, Elena had started feeling extremely sick.

She would frequently stumble out of bed in the middle of the night to run and empty her stomach in the toilet.

You always rubbed her back and held her hair away from her face.

During a particularly bad episode, you urge her to go see someone who could try and help her.

“Babe, I think you need to see a doctor. Mother Miranda, anybody.” You begged. You were so worried for your wife.

Elena cups your face. “I know, baby. Let me freshen up and I’ll join you in bed.” She says as she goes to brush her teeth and gestures for you to hop back into bed.

When Elena is finished, she cuddles next to you and turns to bury her face in your neck. “Y/N? I have something I need to tell you.” She says, suddenly very nervous.

You immediately think the worst. “What is it?! What’s wrong, babe?” You say and hold her closer.

Elena laughs at your reaction and shushes you softly. “Everything is okay, Y/N. I’m fine.” She says and pulls back to look at you. “I actually have been to see Mother Miranda. I went a few days ago. She gave me some very interesting news.”

You raise an eyebrow in confusion. “You did? What did she say?” You ask.

Elena takes a deep breath. “Y/N… We’re going to have a baby.” She says and looks you in the eyes. “I’m pregnant.”

You are silent for a bit, which raises Elena’s anxiety, before you throw your hands up and cheer. “We’re gonna be parents?! That’s so awesome!” You exclaim.

Elena feels like a huge weight has been lifted off her shoulders and tears begin to fall down her cheeks in joy. She brings you in for a kiss.

You begin bouncing up and down in excitement.

She laughs at your childlike reaction.

“I take it you’re happy, sweetie?” She jokingly asks and takes your hand to put it on her stomach.

You kiss her once more before leaning down and placing a kiss on her belly. “So happy, babe!” You say.

The two of you excitedly talk about your future for a long time that night.

——————————————————————————

About a month after finding out about the baby, winter strikes with a vengeance. It hasn’t been this bad in the village for years.

Leonardo got badly injured after a fall at a job a few weeks ago so he is staying with you and Elena.

Work has started to dry up for you because people in the village are barely able to scrape by as it is.

Food has become scarce in your household and you and Leonardo frequently give Elena most of your food.

Normally, Elena would refuse it, but with the baby coming, she feels like she needs to eat what she can get. She now has a responsibility to keep the baby as healthy as possible.

You are the only one able to work right now and you take odd jobs here and there.

A little further on into Elena’s pregnancy, you are getting desperate.

You are the most malnourished out of the three, but you feel as though you have to go without to make sure Elena has everything she needs.

Elena has been so understanding and often holds you as you cry about feeling like a bad provider.

“I’m s-so s-sorry, babe!” You sob. “I’m a f-failure!”

Elena’s heart aches at your words. “Sweetie, you are the best spouse anyone could ask for. You are doing everything to keep me and the baby healthy. This is a rough spot, but we will get through it. Together.” She assures and kisses your forehead. “I love you so much, Y/N.” She says and brushes her fingers through your hair. Then she smiles. “And the baby does too! They only kick when you speak.” She giggles and rubs her belly.

You laugh at Elena’s words. “Thanks, babe. You make me so happy… You do too, baby.” You say and rub her tummy.

One night, as you watch Elena eat what little food you have been able to afford and gently cradle her growing stomach, you make a decision.

You never thought you would have to lower your self-worth so much, but the only option you have now is to go to the one person who you know can help. Alcina.

You kiss Elena on the forehead as she sleeps before you sneak out in the middle of the night and brave the elements to get to Castle Dimitrescu.

The snow and wind is bitterly cold as your weakened body trudges closer to your destination.

Upon setting foot on the castle grounds, you are suddenly grabbed and hauled to the castle dungeons by a swarm of insects.

You know it is either Bela, Cassandra, or Daniela. Whoever it was must not have recognized you and thought you were some random trespasser

You are thrown roughly onto the dirty dungeon floors and you whip your head around to see who captured you.

Brown locks and a necklace with a yellow gem adorning it alert you that Cassandra is the one who brought you here.

“Cass! Cass, it’s me, Y/N!” You plead.

Cassandra’s eyes grow wide as she realizes it’s you, however, her surprise is quickly overtaken by anger.

“What the hell are you doing here, you traitor!” She snaps harshly.

You hang your head in shame. You pretty much abandoned the girls because you couldn’t look at them without thinking of Alcina, but they had become like your children as well… It was a selfish move to leave and not give them an explanation.

“I’m sorry, Cass… But, please, I need to speak with your mother. It’s important.” You beg in a defeated tone.

Cassandra snarls but as she takes in your features, she feels sympathy. You look thin and gaunt. The dark circles under your eyes and sunken-in cheeks cause Cassandra physical pain.

“What… What’s wrong, Y/N?” She asks, now concerned for you.

“It’s a long story. Please, it’s urgent, Cass.” You say.

Cassandra thinks for a moment, while looking at your frail body, and growls in annoyance. “Fine.” She says gruffly and helps you up off the floor.

The walk to Alcina’s room is quiet. You try to thank Cassandra for her help but she just glares at you dangerously.

She refuses to open herself up to you now. You have lost her trust and it cuts you to the bone.

You finally arrive and Cassandra knocks on the door.

“Come in.” Alcina calls out and you stiffen at the sound of her voice.

Cassandra opens the door and you follow her inside.

Alcina is sat at her vanity getting ready for bed. She turns around to face Cassandra, but she lets out a choked gasp at seeing you.

You wince at seeing Alcina again. You feel like an idiot for even coming, but… You had to do something. “Hi, Alcina.” You say quietly.

Cassandra quickly excuses herself. She can’t stand to hear what you have to say in case it’s bad news. Just because she’s mad at you, it doesn’t mean she’s stopped caring.

“Y/N… Why have you come here?” Alcina asks, trying to shake off the hope that you have come back to her for good.

“Well… I…” You begin but trail off.

Alcina looks you over and notices how thin you are. “Y/N… Are you sick, darling?” She asks and moves to place a hand on your shoulder.

You flinch. “No!” You shout at Alcina’s advance.

She pulls her hand away and feels her heart break at your reaction.

You sigh and try to calm yourself with a few deep breaths. “Listen, I need your help, Alcina.” You admit.

Alcina raises an eyebrow. “What do you need help with, Y/N?” She asks in confusion.

“My… Um. My wife.” You say, feeling very uncomfortable bringing up Elena to Alcina.

Alcina’s eyes darken. “Yes?” She prompts in a cold voice. In her mind, Elena is the reason you haven’t come back to her yet.

“Well… She is… I mean we…” You struggle to find your words.

Alcina rolls her eyes. “Please get on with it, Y/N. The less I have to hear about her the better.” She says bitterly.

You let out a groan. “She’s pregnant, Alcina. With my child.” You say.

Alcina lets out a shocked gasp at what you said.

“It’s been a rough winter, you know?” You say, trying to ignore the wide-eyed stare from Alcina. “I’m trying to provide, but… The whole village is struggling. I can’t afford to keep her fed and cared for properly… I’m just asking for any food you can spare.” You say quietly. “It’s not for me! It’s for Elena and the baby. Well, and Leonardo, her father.” You clarify.

Alcina brings a hand to her mouth in surprise… She feels incredibly jealous. That could be her having your baby, not Elena. However… She reasons that the baby is at least part of you and she hates the idea of anything happening to them because she knows that it would destroy you.

Alcina rubs her eyes and she finally comes to a decision. “Y/N? Bring your family here to the castle. I want you all to stay. We’ll take care of you, I swear it.” She promises.

Your jaw almost hits the floor. “W-what?” You ask in astonishment.

Alcina sighs. “Y/N, I know you are incredibly angry at me for my actions. I want to do right by you… Please?” She asks.

You bite your lip as you think. Alcina was always good at making you feel like you were important enough to be looked after. You would have to keep your guard up with her, though. You didn’t know if she had some kind of ulterior motive.

You let out the breath you didn’t realize you were holding and give her your answer. “Thank you, Alcina.” You say. “My family will be so grateful.” You add.

Alcina feels an odd sense of accomplishment and satisfaction. She loves that she’s able to help you.

“Of course, Y/N.” She smiles softly. “Why don’t you go and get your family. I’ll have some of my staff prepare rooms for you.” She suggests.

You nod and feel yourself smile at her. This is the Alcina that you had originally fallen in love with.

Note: Ooh! Cliffhanger! I’m definitely going to make a part 2 for this one. Let me know what you think!

Masterlist

#elena lupu #elena lupu x reader #resident evil 8 #re8 #re8 village #alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu x reader #re8 fanfiction #re8 alcina #re8 lady dimitrescu #sorta angsty

[iravaid]

🎮🩹🩸💯🎄---for Mr Tommy Riley (yes, I consider him your oc) (yes, I picked the Christmas tree on purpose mwah 🫰)

(from this meme)

Heehee hii womby!! Snatching Thomas E. Riley from Lapham's cold, dead hands after Szilvi's oviraptor attack squad is done with him. I'm so happy you asked heehee

(and oh, so you're evil? You're evil, now? you're sick and twisted and evil?)

🎮 VIDEO GAME CONTROLLER — what are three of your oc's favorite hobbies?

Being a munch Although it was initially going to be his career (tattoo artist Tommy-truthers make some noise), I can see Tommy enjoying art as a hobby and way to relax/clear his head. He never used to draw a lot of people before, focusing instead on other popular subjects for tattoo designs such as ships and snakes and tigers. But his newer sketchbooks feature a lot more of Beth and Joseph, with a few of Simon and his mum interspersed between his studies of household items and appliances.

Tommy is a Man U fan, as is family tradition. I count football fanaticism as a hobby because have you seen these people. Do you understand the dedication to know so much about all those balls and points and such? Dear god. Tommy, Simon, and Beth on footie nights out were terrifying concepts, many Chelsea fans mauled. Sad!

It mightn't be strictly a hobby, but I can see Tommy redirecting any pent up energy towards making small renovations in his home/his mum's home, or even woodworking and making things like a jewellery box for Beth, or little carved nativity scene for Joseph's nursery class. Man works with his hands and his thoughts can get a bit much at times, so may as well redirect towards something productive, as he's been taught (even if this does encroach into dysfunction territor when he's working to exhaustion so he doesn't dream when he finally sleeps).

🩹 ADHESIVE BANDAGE — does your oc have any physical and/or mental disabilities?

I can see Tommy having chronic pain from his back injury and the resultant muscle strain and poor healing that came of it. Nothing a couple heat pads and, uh, working a labour intensive job can't fix...

Between drug addiction and childhood trauma, it's not out of the picture for Tommy to also have developed PTSD/CPTSD from his experiences. For a myriad of reasons (potential access to counselling, access to familial support, not being autistic, not being in the military) it's not as extreme as Simon's, and so his emotional intelligence isn't as stunted, but he's still very much living with the effects of being physically and verbally abused as a child, as well as being addicted to opiates in the past, far into adulthood. Again, has better tools to cope with it, but Tommy isn't perfect, and I can see most of his symptoms manifesting in fawning responses than Simon's fight.

Tommy also has leanings towards depression, and there are times when his mental health declines to the point of it being disabling. I don't see him being diagnosed with depression, nor complex PTSD, as the NHS mental health services are in fucking shambles and some doctors mightn't even recognise the latter in his time.

🩸 DROP OF BLOOD — what is your oc's blood type?

So. I don't have a clear answer to this, because I need to know what Simon's blood type is, and it's not listed anywhere. I think there is a fun off-stage/underlying tragedy in Simon and Tommy having incompatible blood types, in that even if Simon had gotten to the flat in time, he wouldn't have been able to 'save' Tommy via donating blood. Something something, the nature of tragedy so deeply set in Ghost's being that it's biological.

Perhaps it's campy, perhaps it's too much, but whatever‼️my oc now.

💯 HUNDRED POINTS SYMBOL — share three random facts about your oc that others may not know.

TOMMY IS THE YOUNGER BROTHER! The wiki is LYING the comics confirm so here:

Tommy is 6'2" and lanky as anything, and unless his brother is on leave, he tends to be the tallest person in the room, bless. Additionally, I can see Tommy having insane forearm and grip strength just from being a tradesman for the better guts of a decade.

Some people have noticed, but Tommy doesn't drink alcohol at all in 'I Wait For You', which is on purpose. He's chosen not to drink, in spite of Britain's heavy drinking culture, as a means of preventing any reliance/gateways, as well as the fact that he doesn't like getting drunk, anyways, primarily because of bad memories of his father after one too many drinks.

🎄 CHRISTMAS TREE — what is your oc's favorite holiday?

Of course it's christmghjgkfgwlisfhdn-

(jokes aside I can see Tommy not having a favourite holiday until he's an adult and meets Beth and falls in love with her, and they eventually have a family together. Then his favourite holiday becomes Mother's Day.)

Augh thank you for the ask :'D It reminded me i have very big feelings about Tommy Riley and his everything, and now my chest hurts heehee

#tommy riley #call of duty #cod mw2 #ask #codposting #riley brothers save me... save me riley brothers... #gif warning #dunno if it's needed but that thang moves fast lmao #addiction

[thewhitefluffyhat]

It’s fun to theorize about what Gideon may or may not have lost to Harrow in becoming Kiriona, but I’m also interested in another question. What did Harrow gain?

Because here’s an idea: what if the part of Gideon that Harrow ate was Gideon’s extreme regeneration ability rather than anything to do with Gideon’s personality?

Like, we know that this better-than-Lyctor healing isn’t from Nona’s soul hitching a ride, because Harrow didn’t have it while it was just her and the Body (and because Gideon-in-Harrow at the end of HtN did have it - those regrowing thumbs! - before Nona fully possessed Harrow). So the ability must have come from Gideon. 

It’s also implied from the Avulsion trial that Gideon was able to heal things like fatal brain injuries while alive. The fact that Gideon’s body didn’t spontaneously start regrowing its missing pieces, even when reunited with her soul, suggests to me that either John interfered or Gideon no longer has that ability and it’s incorporated into Harrow now.

(Or it could just be that Gideon’s ability can’t cause a dead body to heal, only a living one… but John can clearly do both, so...)

Another possible supporting detail: Nona left Harrow’s body in an awful state. Her limbs falling off, her major organs failing. But once Harrow wakes up in her body again, she’s exhausted but perfectly able to speak and even stand without outside healing. Alecto describes her as starving and dehydrated, but not, like, about to come apart at the seams. So Harrow may still have this extreme healing ability, despite no longer being in possession of most of Gideon’s soul and not having gone far enough in the Lyctoral process to even change her eye color at the end of NtN. Very interesting.

But even more than the plausibility angle, what really draws me to this theory is the lovely symbolism. The part that Harrow ate from Gideon - the gift that Gideon bestowed on her that can never be taken back - is the gift of healing and regrowth.

After all, in the last moments before Harrow became a Lyctor, the most important thing on her mind was whether she had truly repaired her relationship with Gideon. And Gideon reassured Harrow, a second time, that yes, she forgave her.

I’d also posit that one read of Harrow’s arc in GtN is that Harrow’s life until she reconciled with Gideon was an entirely downward spiral of pain and trauma. And Gideon’s forgiveness was the first moment where Harrow was able to let go and move past that trauma in a positive way.

So Harrow integrating Gideon’s regeneration into her soul is that character development made literal, physical, and indelible. 

Gideon’s selflessness is what gave Harrow the ability to heal.

#the locked tomb #nona the ninth #gideon nav #harrowhark nonagesimus #kiriona gaia #ntn spoilers #tlt analysis #my tlt stuff #my ramblings #ALSO #this goes really well with the idea that AtN #will involve Harrow giving Gideon something of herself in return #what could it be? #regardless the symbolic potential is though the roof!

[gentrychild]

Idea: how would each member of the IC of Anyone act if they happened to find themselves in the middle of the movie Purge?

I have never watched those movies but basically, any crime is legal for an entire night and if people come into your house to kill you, you're on your own.

I am going to assume this is the BNHA version of the movie purge, where people have quirks, and the Purge was made to remind people how good they had it now that there were quirk laws since the Dawn of Quirks. It also happens in the US.

Kurogiri

He finds himself a nice home in which to chill and does not move from there. He is not interested in fighting. He doesn't care about the general craziness. He might pick up a cat there. Anyone trying to break into this very nice home will be warped into another city but people are welcome if they want to also chill.

Nagisa

Nagisa would be absolutely terrified. She is a hacker. She isn't used to violence and right now, she is in a setting where people might want to gleefully murder her for unknown reasons. She is clinging to Kurogiri's arm the whole time. Before Kurogiri stops her, she keeps watching the horrible image of the CCTV.

Dabi

He would go out, robs a grocery store, and incinerates anything trying to implement the grocery curse. He finally arrives to wherever Kurogiri and Nagisa are, extremely smug.

He meant to leave again and to keep an eye on Shouto who is running around (of course he is) but, and he will deny it to his dying breath, he stays in the fancy house to reassure Nagisa. Between Kurogiri and him, more and more people flock to the house (who might be a villa now that I think about it) to seek sanctuary. They watch Disney movies the whole night.

Hawks and Shouto

They are out there, saving people. An entire night of running/flying around and preventing violent crimes. At dawn, they have to call Kurogiri to pick them up and get them to safety because they are too exhausted/in pain to go back. They are haunted by all the people they didn't manage to save.

All for One

Two things can happen:

1 - AFO doesn't change anything to his habit. This man goes to the restaurant, does some shopping, enjoy whatever is still open during the night without worrying one bit because if anyone attacks him, he can simply vaporize them.

He is untouchable.

2 - Or, to prove a point, AFO commits all the non violent crimes, proving by A + B that the Purge is a very stupid moves. He starts fires? Whoops, no fireman to take care of those. He commits some good old industrial spying and gives enterprises secrets? Well, have fun watching a behemoth of a company falling from one day to another and special, hand-picked companies being the ones with a monopoly on the market. He does all the white collar crimes, he makes people destitute and others richer than ever, he just brings chaos wherever he goes.

Izuku

Every people who had a hand in implementing the Purge and who is benefiting from it is killed. It starts with the President then it trickled down, like a curse.

Their bodyguard can't save them. Whoever is doing this is unstoppable. All those powerful people who thought they were untouchable are freaking out but whoever is killing them can't be killed, can't be bribed, and can't be reasoned.

Five minutes before the Purge ends, this grim figure wearing a hoodie warns them that the members of the government who implements such laws do not deserve to live and that on every Purge night, he will find them and force them to know what the victims of the Purge, those people who are too poor to flee the country or to hire people to protect them, have to go through.

That person disappears before the eyes of a dozen of people as soon as the Purge night is over.

By the time the next Purge arrives, laws are in place where it's now illegal to kill politicians/people who have large companies (money, read money).

It doesn't save them.

In the next week, the Purge is abolished.

#I realized that I couldn't make an AU where the Anyone crew lived in a society that allowed the Purge #First because there is no way Star and Stripe or All Might wouldn't fight tooth and nail against it and WIN #But also because I call bullshit on the idea that people would start killing their neighbors just because there is one night a year #where this is allowed #You cannot make me believe that entire communities wouldn't band together to protect themselves and their weakest members #You cannot make me believe that the people with dark urges wouldn't be a minority #And that the majority wouldn't be good and wouldn't protect each other #I call bullshit on any narrative that says human beings are bad and only waiting for a chance to lash out #anyone fic #anyone: absurd ranking

[chamerionwrites]

Ultimately what gets under my skin is that I feel the burdens and expectations of like - Content Warnings Culture, as it currently exists? - fall really heavily on anyone seeking to confront/process/learn about complex or difficult subjects, in a way that is not merely unfair but that selects for a sort of socially mandated toxic positivity which frequently makes spaces deeply hostile to trauma survivors (theoretically, the people that content warnings are actually FOR).

Many people's intuitive response is going to be well yeah, obviously the burden falls more heavily on folks exploring darker subjects. Those are the subjects likely to trigger people. Which is a perfectly sensible and understandable point of view, but the first problem is that I'm not at all sure that it's true. "Dark" subjects are probably more likely to discomfort people, sure. I'm very skeptical that they are significantly more likely to TRIGGER people, because that simply isn't how trauma triggers work. So often they're idiosyncratic and innocuous.

Going with fandom as the example, since that's a space where content warnings are both very normalized and a very common subject of debate...I am 100% confident there are people out there who (eg) had a traumatic miscarriage and who find some varieties (maybe even all varieties!) of soft and fluffy kidfic extremely triggering. I'm 100% confident there are survivors of spiritual abuse that find certain kinds of religion/god talk (and I don't just mean oppressive institutional religion, I mean the DND cleric with a really fun relationship to their deity) extremely triggering. I am 100% confident there are people who have survived controlling abusive relationships that flinch from the kind of slightly overbearing caretaking behavior that lots of other people (judging by the prevalence of a certain sort of hurt/comfort fic) find really cathartic and comforting to read about. Those are just the first three examples straight off the top of my head. I suspect they're all reasonably common examples. And I know there's an almost infinite number of others.

When it's explained I think most people are willing to understand that Fluffy Kittens And Rainbows content can frequently be a trauma trigger too. I think most of them also immediately understand that it would be unreasonable to expect any author to anticipate and tag for every possible permutation of kidfic so that I (hypothetical-I) can avoid the specific handful that might ruin my day. If that's something I struggle with, then either I avoid that genre of fanfic entirely, or I read the story summary and evaluate how likely I am to end up in a bad place and exercise my best judgment. I bring a certain Dead Dove Do Not Eat sensibility to the table: this bag is clearly but not exhaustively labeled, I might enjoy a mourning dove but I'll be sad if I find a pigeon, and either I decide I'm willing to risk the latter option or I don't open it at all. This is the clear reasonable answer to an issue that's inherently going to look different from person to person!

But unfortunately many people are NOT willing to be this gracious when it comes to recognizing that authors exploring dark subjects cannot possibly be expected to warn for every single individual facet of the darkness, either. There's this unspoken (and I think in most cases unexamined and unintentional, tbf) double standard where if someone is triggered by a ~wholesome~ story that is assumed to be an unfortunate accident that couldn't and can't be helped, whereas if someone is triggered by a ~grimdark~ story that is assumed to be a failure or even malice on the part of the author.

And this double standard ticks me off, okay. First for the blatant unfairness. Second because where it inevitably, unfailingly ends is with people being punished for writing honestly about their own pain and anger and grief, like a perfect mirror of the way society already fails trauma survivors: lip service compassion so long as you don't make anyone uncomfortable. Making abuse and injustice taboo to talk about while remaining unwilling to confront how and why it actually happens.

And third, because imo the furor over walling off depictions of anything upsetting often calcifies into this climate of just...refusal to treat serious subjects seriously. Of valuing and incentivizing lightheartedness-to-the-point-of-whitewashing over artistic honesty. At the individual level I don't think there's anything wrong with people choosing not to explore darker subjects in their reading or writing. But when that gets encoded into the culture of a space, when people get punished for deviating from it, I think that's insidious.

And this is what insistence that there is some Objectively Correct way to tag things which will lead to 0% of people ever being triggered often feels like to me. Yes - if I write a story in which child death or bigotry or sexual violence or whatever is a central focus then I think it's courteous to label that, or else to slap a big old Here Be Dragons on the story in the form of a Choose Not To Warn tag. But if (eg) I am writing a story about war, signposting all along that it is About War, and I make a non-graphic allusion to any of the above, and people get mad if they aren't all meticulously tagged...sorry but this is like needing to be told not to eat a Tide pod. This is Dead Dove Do Not Eat in FULL effect. You picked up a story that was clearly labeled as a war story and expected to find anything other than war when you opened the bag. What's more, imho complaining about it is not merely absurd but actively offensive: if you're going into such story with the assumption that it will politely pull a veil over anything that might cause you discomfort so that you can engage with war only insofar as it entertains you, that is VERY much a you problem. Deal with it on your own time rather than disrespecting yourself, the author, art in general, and the entire topic of war. People are going to misunderstand me here, but this is not me saying suck it up snowflake. This is me saying that serious subjects deserve the respect of serious engagement, that it's perfectly understandable for someone to find those subjects upsetting, but that they need to apply the exact same strategies as someone who knows that a Fluffy Kittens Kidfic might upset them rather than expecting every serious story to apologize for its existence with 50+ tags that undoubtedly still won't capture every nuance, because if a story could be perfectly summarized there'd be no point reading beyond the summary in the first place.

This is getting way too long, but the TL;DR is that I do think tags and warnings are valuable and useful. I also think the way they're often conceptualized is misguided and even harmful. People need to recognize that they are a very blunt and imperfect tool that cannot replace personal judgment. People need to stop treating them as a way to avoid general discomfort as opposed to trauma triggers (the chance to avoid discomfort is a useful curb-cutter effect, but gearing them primarily toward the former actually makes them less effective for the latter). And people need to understand that there is always going to be a degree of subjectivity involved, that the longer and richer and more layered a story is the more subjective the tagging process is going to get, and therefore that insisting on Perfect Objectively Correct Tags is - unintentionally or not - incentivizing shorter, less thoughtful, more easily digestible stories that avoid dealing with complicated or painful subjects. And I hope that most people don't actually want that.

#on warnings #purity discourse #but this isn't just about purity wank this is also about people simplifying the issue down to 'just tag correctly' #often there IS no objectively correct and imo you're doing a well-intentioned disservice by claiming there is #fandom #my posts #*braces for impact*

[saltymongoose]

Alright, the second part's finally here! As with the previous part, just lmk if there's anything here that needs to be changed and I'll get right on it. Other than that, I hope you enjoy it! :) <3

[Part 2] They Comfort Their Disabled!Transmasc!Partner During a Jobsearch ft. The Main 3 + 2BDamned

(TW: Mentions of Violence, Brief mentions of disability-based discrimination, extreme fluff.) [Part 1]

- [DEIMOS] -

“They fucking what-”

If you weren’t so disappointed, you’d almost consider Deimos’ level of outrage at your firing comical. He seemed like he was minutes away from going to your previous workplace himself to start something. He was so agitated, pacing around the room and even shifting in your embrace as he comforted you, his hands flexing against you and his knee bouncing restlessly.

He still has an angry pout on his face even as he cuddles you, muttering compliments to you and scathing insults to the people you used to work for. He’ll dial it down if you want, but his irritation at this still remains palpable. In fact, even after the initial day when you told him what happened he wouldn't drop the issue, going as far as bringing it up a few times to see if you changed your mind about him doing anything to retaliate for you.

(The first time it happened was just a day afterward when you'd decided to take a break from researching jobs with him. Deimos stole your attention from the show you'd just started by grasping both of your hands in his, to which you looked at him with slight confusion. He gave you a slightly crooked smile.

“I know we've been over it, but baby...are you sure you don’t want me to go take care of those pricks? It won't take that long, and I won't even do anything that bad, I swear." You scoffed. Yeah, like you'd trust the word of your boyfriend, a wanted murderer and notorious menace to society, not to do anything drastic after that show he put on yesterday. Although, that's not to say it wasn’t tempting. Especially with how Deimos was looking at you like he was about to beg you to let him do it. Unfortunately, though, you knew that it was more trouble than it was worth.

"Um.. no, hon...as much as I'd like that, I think that's going too far like we said before. But thank you, I appreciate that you'd do that. I love you." You cooed the last words out sweetly and accompanied them with a swift peck to the cheek, leaving Deimos grinning with pink-stained cheeks.)

In terms of actual comfort though, Deimos' MO tends to be a mixture of two things: distraction and physical touch, all blanketed with the same warm affection he's given you throughout your relationship. He knows you're busy with finding a job, but he's the one who convinces you to stop and take a breather from it to do something with him instead. Sometimes he'll even volunteer to read off the listings to you himself just so you can rest your eyes for a bit.

(He also makes fun of the listings that are more outlandish. A retail job for half of what he'd make at the Agency, and detailed with a complaint about how "ungrateful" the previous employee was for the opportunity? Excellent; prime material to use to make you laugh.)

While Deimos has always been very touchy around you, in this case it's heightened by a hundred; he always seems to be contacting you in some way, whether it be pressing your thighs together when you sit with him or covering your face with kisses in an effort to make you giggle. He just loves being close to you, and basking in the light of your grin and the love you have for him.

You won't notice it, but he also uses this closeness as an opportunity to look you over for any signs of exhaustion or pain. No matter how much you might try to "suck it up" or hide it, you won't be able to. Not around him. He's far too observant to miss it; those subtle signs of tiredness in your eyes and the sudden shifts in your posture whenever a wave of pain echoes through you are just a few of the tells he's attuned to catch.

He'll do all he can to get you what you need to manage your symptoms (including some medicine that Skinner recommended since he spoke to him about this before). He's surprisingly strong too, so if you want him to carry you anywhere because you're fatigued, all you need to do is ask. (Sometimes he'll also do it without any prompting too since he seems to have a sixth sense for when you'd like it. Luckily he has enough foresight to ensure you aren't holding anything fragile when he suddenly picks you up.)

Deimos' pyrokinesis makes him incredibly warm, and all the better to cuddle with whenever you're in pain. It's cozy, with his purrs and raspy whispers filling your ears as he rambles on about this and that, and his hands rub small circles over your skin when you press your face further into the curve of his neck.

(You smile against him when he presses a quick peck to your forehead, and you can practically feel his purring grow louder as a result. The soothing vibrations pick up and you can feel sleep beginning to tug at your eyelids. Your pain isn't completely gone, but having him so close and holding you tightly to him is so soothing that it becomes easier to get through.)

As for your job search itself, Deimos will volunteer to write up a program or two for you to "filter" out the less desirable offers you find, and to look for those you'd prefer. He has more than enough time to do so (thanks to Doc's generous offer of PTO), and he figures that the knowledge he has regarding tech would be best used to help you.

He's also asked if you want him to request (beg) 2BDamned to find a place for you in the SQ. It's an organization of mercenaries, but surely they could have a need for your skillset somewhere, right?

(You know that part of it is because Deimos wants to spend more time with you, since his job keeps you both apart most of the time. It's a topic that he brings up a lot, and although he makes his complaints humorous and words them as jokes, you can tell that it really bothers him. Then again, why wouldn't it? He absolutely adores you, and wanting to spend more time with his boyfriend is normal - especially in a place as dangerous as Nevada. It's just a shame that such domestic moments are very uncommon.)

Despite the unfortunate circumstances that brought Deimos home to you, he'd consider this break he takes to be well worth it. He's always loved spending time with you, and it's especially important that he does so when you need comfort. While he can't enact any ideas of revenge against your previous employers (as much as he'd love to), he'll use all of his energy to help you feel better instead.

You'll always know of Deimos' love for you through his actions and the words he speaks to you, although he can only hope that you understand the true depth of it. There's only so much he can convey through that alone, but he thinks that it's at least a small way to prove just how much he loves you. He's made it clear time and time again that he'll be there to support you, no matter what that entails. In a way, it sort of reminds him of a few of those famous words he's made a plan to say to you in the future - something with "for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer” and “in sickness and in health." Perhaps he’d have to do some research on jewelry stores after this is through.

- [SANFORD] -

Sanford’s initial reaction to your firing is burning anger, but also one that’s tempered by his need to comfort you in the wake of such an awful situation. He isn’t as impulsive as some others, and he recognizes that helping you is the main thing he should be focusing on at the moment.

He doesn’t say very much, other than the short praises and sweet nothings he might whisper while you bury yourself in his arms, pressing your face against his neck to muffle your cries. He listens to you when you vent about what happened, the frown on his face deepening with every word of how cruel your employer was and why they had the audacity to fire you.

When you trail off after ranting, he'll use the moment to praise and reassure you of how excellent of a person he knows you are and just how much you mean to him, gently wiping the tears from your cheek with his thumb as he looks you in the eye. His voice is low and thick with emotion, and he knows that if he dwells on his thoughts for too long he might get too emotional - but you just mean so much to him, and you need to know it now more than ever. That you're worth far more than your previous employer could ever know, and that they took you for granted for foolish reasons. He wants you to know just how foolish they were, and how wonderful you are in reality. 

("You...you really mean that?" You asked, and Sanford felt a sharp stab of pain in his chest once he saw the way your eyes glistened.

He nodded resolutely. "Every word." He knows you might not completely believe him, but that was alright. He'd repeat it to you as many times as he needed, if only so you could get a glimpse of how he viewed you; how you deserved to be seen. You’re the love of his life; the person he adores above all else, and he could spend near infinite hours pointing out every single little detail that he loves about you, from the way your nose crinkles up when you laugh to the way light reflects in your eyes. He only wishes he had all the time in the world to tell them to you.)

These little talks are frequent in this period, when you spend your time looking for a job while he takes care of more menial things on the other side. Though most of the time you eventually end up cuddled close together, with him keeping one of his arms around your shoulders while his other hand clasps your hip. You rest your head on his shoulder as you converse, with him keeping a watchful eye on you for any discomfort and pain while you try to find the words to express your thoughts.

It's never hard for you two to speak to each other like this, as you're completely open with each other, and being so close like this just makes it easier to spill talk. It's probably because cuddling with your boyfriend means that all of your senses are filled with everything distinctly him, from his scent to the sound of his voice and the warmth of his body; it's the most comfortable you think you've ever been. You feel safe with Sanford, and you know that nothing you could possibly do would push him away. It makes his comforting gestures all the more impactful for you, and it's easy to accept any help from him.

(However, his focus on comforting you doesn’t mean he’ll just let what happened go, mind you. He doesn’t care about your ex-employer enough to go through the effort of destroying them himself; they don’t deserve the time necessary to do that. Although, if a swarm of Zeds was seen frequenting their area, or the bandits get further into the city in that sector, then he’ll find an excuse not to help them if asked. Sanford is usually nicer than most other mercs, but he still isn’t a “good” man. Sympathy from him ends where any mistreatment of his partner begins, no matter how dire the consequences to other people are. Besides, dire is what they deserve here.)

Sanford has always been an attentive boyfriend; even before you got fired, he’d made it clear that he would always be there to help you out with anything you need. Now that you’re busy looking for a job, this simply means that instead of cooking for you every once in a while (in other words, when he was finally back from his missions), he’d do so every day. It means going out to fulfill minor errands and cleaning, doing laundry, etc. He essentially plays house husband so that you can handle your own business, and he does so without even letting you know he’s made it part of his routine.

(Every so often, you’ll look up from the paperwork and resumes you’ll be working on with the realization that there’s something else you should be doing; dishes to be washed, trash to take out, laundry to put in, only to take a few steps to find nothing there and the task already completed. The small, knowing grin that Sanford tries to hide is enough of an answer as to what happened.)

You shouldn’t feel guilty about this either, he’s doing this just because he wants to assist you this way. This is the same regarding your disabilities as well; if you need anything, no matter how trivial you might consider it, he’d do it for you. Any amount of effort is worth it as long as it keeps you comfortable and happy.

He’ll get you your medication without any fuss or complaint (no matter how far he has to go to retrieve it), and he’ll also schedule any appointments with your doctor if you need him to. He’s also spoken to both 2BDamned and Skinner to get any medical advice that could help you, more so the latter because of his knowledge of such things. However, if you need someone more specialized, he’ll ask Doc to do some networking and find someone to help if necessary.

(Speaking of 2BDamned, Sanford also asked him for some more time off so he could be around to assist you for longer, which the man was quick to give. Sanford might not be the most open about his personal life, but being around him has allowed Doc to glean quite a lot about his love for you. 2B is not very sentimental, but he knows that you both deserve to be together at this time. That and the fact that Doc can see how Sanford brightens up whenever you’re a topic in conversation shows him that the grunt’s affection for you far surpasses whatever drive he has for job at the time anyway. He has no reason to keep your boyfriend from you, so he won't, and he even asks Sanford to give you his good wishes before he departs.)

If you take a look at one of the small notebooks Sanford keeps, you’d find a general list of reminders for himself that includes the aforementioned medical information, in addition to the new “chores” he does for you. Even if he can’t remember the specifics off of the top of his head (as is the case with some of the more complex details like the exact milligrams of medications you take and where to get them in an emergency), it’s still important to him, so he writes it down just in case. You might think of it as incredibly thoughtful if you ever found out, but he’d just consider it part of the basic responsibilities of being a boyfriend.

(Although he’d split things up again if you ask, he hopes you know that he can do whatever you need him to so you can focus on your career. (Which you definitely do by now, no question about it.) You need some time to find another place to work, so he’ll carve it out for you in whatever way possible.)

As for helping you find a job, he’ll ask around the SQ for any news of good places to work, and he does find out quite a lot from 2BDamned's other field agents who frequent other places. While some of it can’t be that applicable to you, depending on your chosen profession, you accept all the news with a smile and a few words of gratitude (perhaps even a kiss to Sanford’s cheek, if you really want to fluster him with your thanks).

He's even asked you if you wanted him to find you a place within the SQ, though he'd ensure it's an administrative/clerical job first since he can't stomach the thought of you being in danger. Additionally, if you want him to look for something more specific, all you need to do is ask, and he'd be more than happy to go along with it.

(You'd also notice that all of the offers he brings up to you pay far more than you were making previously, and are in far safer places than those he's acquainted with. Sanford might long to be close to you so you can be together more often, but he isn't stupid; being near his division in the SQ means being closer to potential conflict with the AAHW and his organization’s other enemies, and he refuses to put you in that situation. You already have enough on your plate with this, and he'd rather take the worry of distance than almost-definite danger.)

Sanford seeks to provide you with whatever you need, no matter what it is. He wants to prove his reliability to you, so you know that you always have him in your corner, ready to support you at all costs. You're his boyfriend (and perhaps you'll even be more than that someday); you deserve someone that can give you the world. While Sanford knows that the state of Nevada is uncertain, one of the only things that he knows will always stay the same is the overwhelming amount of love he holds for you.

He'll always be yours, just as you're his. Regardless of what you both go through in the future, he'll make sure that he's always there to help you because that's what love means to him. It's security and comfort, and the knowledge that the other person is always going to be a safe haven for you. It's something he's never really spoken about with you, but you've always understood it deep down. It's shown in how he takes care of you, and how there's always an intrinsic feeling of trust with him. In situations like this one, where you need help while getting back on your feet, so to speak, it only becomes more evident. Sanford’s always felt like you represent home to him, and with how he insists on showing his love for you in any way he can, and how you share the deep feelings of love he holds for you, you’d say the same about him.

#tw: discrimination #FINALLY omfg #masc!reader #male reader #deimos x reader #deimos #sanford x reader #sanford #madness combat x reader #madcom x reader #my writing

[herrlindemann]

Rock Hard - April 2001, Interview with Paul

On April 2nd, the world should sit up and take notice — if Rammstein has his way. Their third studio album 'Mutter' will be released that day. Guitarist Paul Landers looks back with us on a phase that ended with the first two albums and ventures prophecies for the future of the band.

According to the first editorial surveys, it almost looks as if the Berliners will be well received with their new album, even with previous skeptics. In contrast to the first two Rammstein albums, 'Mutter' is much more mature and relaxed - even if the typical symbiosis of metal and industrial continues to roar through the speakers. Above all, the lyrics are no longer trimmed exclusively for aggression, but show the first signs of a new, more thoughtful approach to the topics dealt with, although dealing with love affairs can by no means be described as heart/pain/snooze songwriting.

Does the brute aggressiveness of the band, which was particularly noticeable on the debut album 'Herzeleid', give way to a new quality?

"We've just become more relaxed," says Paul. « We don't try to stay artificially evil or aggressive. Phase one is over. Back then we used to meet in the basement every day — it said 'No women!' on the door — and played 'Weißes Fleisch' for hours. (Almost all band members were left by their wives back then. Even tough men can suffer...) That was a kind of liberation. We were tough and we had fun. There's nothing worse for a band that wants to be heavy and evil than to succeed at it and become relaxed and friendly. But that doesn't really bother us. We want to develop further and do not mourn the passing of time. »

Why? After a ‘Herzeleid’ phase, suddenly being loved all over the world certainly doesn't make anyone really sad.

The further development of the band can especially be felt in Till's lyrics. Is that also an influence of success and the associated looseness?

« It's true that you don't write such nasty lyrics over a glass of red wine on the Baltic Sea as you do over a vodka in a Berlin cellar. But especially with the new disc it was more exhausting to reconcile our different ideas. It's still just the six of us who count for Rammstein's development — that's always been the case and will remain so — but of course you have in mind the millions of people who bought the first records. And finding that out is very difficult. »

Is there a clever game of shock behind Rammstein, or did the celebration of the negative feelings of the six fearless friends, who are pursuing a rigorous reckoning with the fun society, simply hit a nerve?

«Times have changed since the first Rammstein years. When we started, what we were doing was still pretty shocking and extreme. In the meantime we have long been overtaken — also by the media. The Beatles were extreme back then too, and now they're laughed at. That's how we see each other. In a few years people will smile at us - or they already do. What shocks today will only yawn tomorrow. But it can't be our job to just shock. We also play good music and we have an elaborate show. I don't think it works in the long run to just base your success on shocking. »

Within the team there are quite different views as far as artistic standards are concerned.

« Rammstein are a smear theatre, a good hard band, also a myth, sometimes hype and always something uncanny - I actually agree with everyone on that. Within the band there have always been different opinions on the self-image, but everyone was able to live out their vision. »

Thanks to the early discovery by Motor Music, the path through the underground was pure marching through, which also earned the boys the title "boy band". Although Rammstein might not have lasted long underground.

« On one thing we have always agreed: Rammstein were commercial from the start. We have never made a secret of the fact that we want to become rich and successful and conquer the world. Basically, entertainment is always business — only the sums involved are different. For example, Klaus Kinski has B. Once said: "I just want to make money, I don't care about the rest. » We're not that cool, but I'd like it if we were! »

Nowadays you can make money mainly with provocations, even if your own courage scares you.

« We chose our name back then to cause trouble. We wanted to provoke and cause stress. We knew that people died in Ramstein. But when we were confronted with the first journalists, we cheated a bit out of fear because we still had no idea how to deal with the press: "Ramstein? We don't know what happened there; we just thought the name was so brutal! » That was a hoax because we clearly wanted trouble with it. But is that so unusual in bands? Whether they are called Megadeth, Napalm Death or Silke Bischoff — music is also a bit provocative, otherwise it gets boring. »

But Rammstein don't want to know anything about blunt provocation at any price - even if the band was recently accused of it because of the controversial Reifenstahl sequences in the 'Stripped' video.

Paul seeks explanations for the allegations:

"I can't draw a swastika on my T-shirt and say: "That's a sign of the sun, it existed before Hitler. » The sign is so heavily loaded that it simply cannot be used anymore. This is the most extreme example. Like the swastika, there are many symbols, gestures and words that are also more or less burdened, but everyone has to decide the degree for themselves. If we now roll the 'r', then for one this is a means of expression to make our German singing more attractive. That's something really bad for others - but they have to figure it out for themselves. I can't ask people not to see that as dangerous. We decide for ourselves what we feel is feasible aesthetically and in terms of content.

Smart people have actually never had a problem with us. Usually only people who don't know us at all but think they have to judge us have problems. We've stopped trying to justify ourselves. If you want to find a hidden hint somewhere, you will find it and you won't let yourself be talked out of it. We also noticed that relaxed people who love life usually also like Rammstein. »

With their new piece 'Links 2 3 4', Rammstein want to make it clear once and for all to everyone else where their hearts beat. Here it says:

«You want my heart in the right place/but then I look down/then it beats to the left. »

However, the record company's release policy may be irritating. So 'Links' will not be released as a single in Germany, but in America. The fact that the lyrics are not or only rarely understood and thus false associations can only be dismissed as unintentional if you are really well-disposed towards the band and know that single releases are subject to label decisions. Finally, the piece comes along in the most beautiful marching music underlaid with Rammstein riffs.

« The song is a unit in which the text and, of course, understanding it are very important. I can understand that you find it a bit extreme if you don't understand the lyrics. The song is also intended more for our home country, where we actually have the most stress. »

Keyword stress: Was the tour through America also an escape from the problems here, and the success there a kind of revenge?

« We were a bit snapped at first because we always get shitted on here; especially from journalists who have never seen us. Just as Harald Juhnke is for the drunkards, we are always the stupid, naive right-wingers. But we didn't leave out of defiance, but because the records were suddenly selling everywhere and tours became important as a result. I don't think that a band in Germany automatically has a better standing if it's successful in America. Maybe that upsets the journalists a bit, who up until now have condemned us for what we've done. Journalists are always jealous. »

How do Rammstein explain their success in America? Does "brutal Teutonic rock" — whatever that is supposed to be — evoke a comforting "Hitler, the German Freddy Krüger" - creepy feeling in US citizens who are not so well versed in European history?

« When someone writes 'Teutonic', they probably mean 'German', maybe also 'TOO German'. In principle they are right. ‘Being German’ is a bit brute. Germans are not so delicate. As for the secret of our success in America, I'm not sure. Is there a danger that we come across as too German abroad? I noticed that our fans abroad are happy that we are German. I know that in America Hitler is not considered so bad. But we're too close here to allow ourselves to think. Actually, the reaction abroad is always: "Finally something good from Germany. Nothing has happened since the power station! » »

So Rammstein are THE export hit and the first new beginning of a German culture after reunification, which is well received abroad. Will this type of culture determine future schemes for success?

« We don't really think that far. I know that the view of being German will definitely change. If you think about it for a bit, that's not too bad. Of course I'm ashamed of the Germans who committed these crimes back then, but personally I can't help it anymore. We are trying to find a natural way of dealing with our past and a sensible way of dealing with this country—no more, no less. What always helps is to go abroad and live there for a year - then you don't find everything that bad and Germany rather cute. Our qualities are recognized there, even if they are sometimes smiled at. »

Rammstein are also often smiled at in their own country. A difficult fate for a tough band with a brutal stage show?

« Who wants to be found ridiculous? On the other hand, maybe we shouldn't always be taken so seriously..."

#Rammstein #Paul Landers #2001 #interview #translation #*scans #*

[gwydionmisha]

The Damages

So it turns out everything the PT said to me except the part about how to put on a shirt post injury was misinformation. We went to the appointment so they could show me how to wear the real sling and I showed him the angle she had me where the Special fat people torture sling and he was like: That's not how you wear a sling, but they do it that way on TV a lot. O.o I'd had my entire arm in a stress position for two weeks while healing from shoulder replacement because the PT taught me to torture myself because she had no idea how slings work.

At some point late last week I started thinking of the way little kids play being a Doctor with stuffed animals. The way the PT handled my arm was about as accurate to medical practice as my sister when she was small taping up a stuffed animal's arm pretending it was broken.

She was so very, very confident in her ignorance.

All that dance and martial arts training I had made everything worse. My body is an absolute ruin that literally eats itself, but there is a particular kind of physical self discipline that is so ingrained it never goes away.

You tell me to hold a position or do a particular movement no matter how weird or awkward, I will study it and then work persistently until I get so I can do it over and over and over correctly or hold it as long as you need me to or whatever. I will work up slowly as I need too, but I do the thing over and over for longer and longer day after day after day.

This is why I did so well at pre-op physio. Doesn't matter if I hurt. Doesn't matter if I'm exhausted. I kept working the program right up to the edge of what I could do without doing damage that would slow progress. All those years as an athlete I'm good at telling pain that's just pain from pain that means stop.

You tell me it is essential to hold these incredibly difficult and painful positions to speed recovery, I slowly, persistently, relentlessly do terrible things to myself, which is a problem if the person giving orders has no idea what they are doing and is telling me the opposite of the correct things.

So then we go to the post surgical doctor appointment and have to explain it all again. The face of the PA and the little sound she made when I said the PT had confiscated the sling they'd put on me for a generic XL. The way her mouth went thin and expression hardened when I explained the PT had made very clear we had to do this because of my size and her fast and furious typing. The tone in the Doctor's voice when he said, "They took your sling?" (I used to sound like that when I was teaching and about to bring the hammer down on one of the instigator kids.) All the other careful questions from the Doctor.

I should be ready to do serious PT now. Instead I'm having to work my ass of with the goal of getting my arm back to as undamaged as it was three or four days after surgery.

I am furious. I did everything right and did my damnedest to do everything they told me until I physically couldn't because of the exponential damage. I endured two weeks of extreme sleep dep and stress positions on wounded limbs and blood circulation restriction for nothing. I could have been sleeping and resting the arm between short gentle physio exercises they didn't even hurt until the arm got too damaged to do them.

She stole all this from me and the time and effort it's going to take to get me back to where I could have been if the hospital had just handed us printed directions and sent me home instead of sending a PT to misinform me and make me wear the wrong sling.

So yeah, that sure is fun to live with.

I did tell them that I'm worried it could happen to someone else because they do a lot of shoulder replacements at the hospital. Problem is, I don't know her name. They did keep asking, because they also clearly don't want this terrible thing. Surely there must be records of who was on shift that day, mustn't there be?

They think there won't be real permanent damage, but Squirrel took me for an x-ray today to see if there is anything needing fixing because of Missinformation PT. I am worried about the possibilities of more procedures because I'm not convinced I should take even tramadol for a few months, and I need to let my stomach recover from all that tylanol.

The arm hurts of course, but I'm used to pain and am very, very good at enduring it. Which worked against me the last two weeks, of course, but in the ordinary run of things lets me function with daily chronic pain that would lay ableds flat. I have one of the best non-narcotic prescription arthritis meds, one not normally covered by medicare, but which my allergies give me access too. The Doctor was a little alarmed that my ordinary daily meds are my entire pain management plan at this stage of post surgical recovery, but while unpleasant, this is fine. Like within my normal range of how much pain I randomly wake up with and significantly less pain than say the week before surgery.

I think it's hard for ableds to conceptualize just how hard this level of chronic pain/illness is to live with. I think the permanence and extremity of it is hard to conceptualize if you don;t live with it and never had say cancer of a really bad accident with a long recovery.

So I'm back to slowly, persistently, relentlessly working the program. I can already straighten my arm and am back on pendulums. My arm, shoulder, hand, etc. have forgotten what natural resting positions, feel like, but I'm working on it. The stiffness and mild numbness in my hand are annoying, but supposedly temporary. The flexeril is really helping with the contracted, spasmed muscles in my back neck and shoulder and not having to prop the injured arm into a painful stress position during sleep is a lot easier. I am cleared to side sleep, but it pulls the incisions and the damaged shoulder too much, but soon, soon. I've already worked out a prop system for back sleeping that mostly supports the arm in a natural angle. I could have been sleeping like this this whole time. Makes me want to weep.

I'm still having to type with just the off hand. I'm better at it than I was, but it tires easily. I write a while, but need to rest it, and how much I can do at a time varies. This means it may still be a little while until regular service on things like the aggregate will resume. I will let you all know how it goes.

#Personal

[theonewhoisnotknown]

hey finally came on here in who knows how long. im bored lol so here’s a story/fanfic idea for good omens. anyone who sees this is free to write from it, I don’t have the energy or motivation to write it myself lol so have fun.

basically 20-50 years pass on and Aziraphale had done everything in his power to delay/stop the second coming. he obviously failed and realized Crowley was right about Heaven. second coming was happening soon (in the next 100 hundred yrs but soon to beings like him).

he’s grown tired mentally/physically/spiritually/everything he is, is exhausted. he’s tried for many years to change, delay, or stop the second coming in hopes of saving the earth. his home. those 20-50 yrs that’s passed on feels like an eternity instead. he never got the chance to actually let himself cry or let out everything he’s been feeling. he hasn’t had anyone to talk to or connect with. even with all the angels in Heaven at his side whenever he needs something done, he never got close with any of them except Muriel.

But even with Muriel he didn’t feel that exposed, he couldn’t be. not when he wasn’t sure it was totally safe. he looks back on his time with crowley both with happiness and extreme pain/hurt. he wants to cry every time he remembers the way they broke up but can’t. not around other Angels, he never rlly gets a moment to himself either.

the only time he’s ever felt safe, happy, and so exposed was with crowley. Crowley could still be on earth so he felt the need to protect it. their earth, their home.

but his excuses and all the effort he’s putting into stopping Heaven seems to be in vain and completely hopeless. they are set in their path for earths destruction. that’s what going to happen and there was no stopping it, not like Armageddon last time. there was nothing he could do.

so he makes a plan for his future. all his energy and motivation to keep going is running out so he wishes for eternal peace. he did everything he could in his mind. he planned to visit crowley one last time as a final goodbye before going to the cosmos and turning into a star.

yes very cheesy but I imagine Aziraphale turning into a star by wrapping himself up in a ball, shutting his eyes as to slumber forever, and then be wrapped up in his warm wings like a blanket. then turning into a star, a ball of light. but he’d shine the brightest out of all the stars, a star u could see at any point from any part of the world.

but this would mean giving up his memories and everything he is. it would be called the angels death (cheesy again ik but I love angst) but he wouldn’t have to have a painful death like putting himself in hellfire.

so in short to stop my ranting he goes into his office one day, cries to himself since he has the chance to, writes a long letter to crowley of all the things he wished he said “I love you” and all that, sees crowley, they both are devastated to see each other again, it’s awkward asf with silence so Aziraphale puts the letter on the table, he states that this is their final meeting, and almost leaves until he’s stopped by crowley, they talk for a bit about everything, Aziraphale says what he’s doing (turning into a star) and that he won’t bother Crowley anymore, and crowley yet again stops him. he’s shocked by that but then sees how worn out Aziraphale looks and feels sm pain from the past/concern for him.

Aziraphale’s like hell no bc that could put crowley in danger but crowley then admitted that if Aziraphale didn’t come today he would’ve probably gotten the courage to drink the holy water he had stored somewhere. they both stand in shock, esp Aziraphale. Crowley looks away.

Aziraphale’s unsure of what to do but crowley wants to leave with Aziraphale or wants to do whatever he wished to do. then they both live in a house in space like in Zathura happy ever after the end. (Ofc not lol if anyone writes a fan fic based off this, make it as angst as possible but also throw in some very sweet/personal moments in there.) also if they do all this, make sure crowley keeps some spare holy water too just in case things go wrong and Aziraphale later finds it, just an extra angst scenario for u to add haha.

now that my rants over this should be more than enough inspo for anyone. have fun and byee

#good omens #rant #fanfic #fanficidea #have fun #Aziraphale #Crowley #Muriel #give us season 3 #neil gaiman #im actually neil gaiman #im going insane :)