#killer and healer crack | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

acupofqueercoffee · 1 year

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“A healer, a lover, a killer”

Unohana Retsu x Female Reader

wc : 6700+

cw : arranged marriage // sexual assault towards the very end // ***non-con is NOT between reader and retsu*** // blood and gore // graphic description of corpses // hurt-comfort // fluff and fluff and fluff and fluff // flirting // wives // minazuki is a gentle-giant 🥺 // murderous milf // older woman x younger woman

ffs i just want to spoil my mommy rotten (and be spoiled rotten) is it too much to ask for ಥ◡ಥ i’m desperate to do her justice but bruhh she sure is difficult to write 🥲

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Marriage, in essence, is a sacred binding of two people, or rather two lovers during which they vow as one to cherish the beauties, to endure the burdens of life.

There may have been a time when you have fancied such foolish fantasies, entertained little hope of finding a love so profound that it will bleed colours into your lonely, miserable life.

Alas, fate does not favour you. But of course, it never does. Likely will never do.

You were born earning the resentment of your father, for his beloved wife perished as you came to be. She was the apple of his eyes, the one possession that he dearly cherished, and swore to cherish in perpetuity. With fingers entwined and two hearts as one, they had endured the burdens of life in tandem, and just when it was beginning to thrive, a promising future stretched out ahead of them like a perpetual sunrise, a curse befell them in the form of you, oh evil, despicable you.

Bearing the brunt of the mother’s death is the child as your father treats you with much hostility. Within him resides not a dot of affection for you, and he makes a point of rubbing salt into your wounds, reminding you in every possible way that you are a murderer, an abomination, a hellspawn on a sacred land. Your life is no better than a slave’s, easier perhaps without the need to exert yourself, but certainly not kinder without anyone to converse with, much less to confide in. Even a slave has companions whereas you who is abhorred and forsaken by your own flesh and blood, have no one in this world but yourself.

Thus, in your father’s resentful hands, the flickering light in your heart eventually, completely dies.

When you have finally come to terms with your life as it is, marriage comes to you in the form of a cruel joke.

If you have been none the wiser, you may have believed it to be a chance at a better life, a crack of sunshine through a sky full of gloom. And for a while, you have. Naive enough to hope. Foolish enough to dream. All it takes is a flick of your father’s merciless tongue, and the fool’s paradise, in which you have been taking sanctuary, comes tumbling down.

“You do not deserve to feel happiness as ephemeral as it will be. So, listen to me. And listen carefully. The Gotei 13 wanted me to hand you in saying that while you may not presently look the part, you are a menace to soul society. You should have never been born to begin with. Instead of her, it should have been you.”

“Despite everything, in the end, I very generously agreed to relinquish you under only one condition. That you will be wedded to one of the captains. Such an outstanding opportunity is hard to come by and apparently, they were desperate enough to get their hands on you whatever the cost. I requested that the wedding be held to the nines for the sake of publicity. People need to witness it with their own eyes in order for them not to talk foul of my family.”

“I can’t have the whole boat going putrid because of a single carp, can I? So, enjoy it while it lasts, dear daughter because I can’t promise that you’ll come out unscathed once they’re done with you.”

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Your soon-to-be other half is a stranger. You know about her as much as you know about the outside world: in other words, next to nothing. Except that her eyes are reminiscent of azurites, and her hair, a moonless night, the woman with whom you will be spending the rest of your life is merely a stranger to you. But then again, with their motives kept under wraps, you will be lucky to survive through the night.

Fleeing is out of the question for you understand the extent of your capabilities, and to flee right now will be tantamount to dicing with death. Despite your father’s despicable attempts to trap you in despair, you decide that playing docile is quite possibly your best bet. Come rain or shine, you will survive. You have not endured the torments of your wicked father after all this time simply to be trampled like a weed. What an insult it will be to your painstaking efforts.

So, when you are asked if you will take the stranger before you as your lifelong partner, without hesitation, you say, “I do”. Legions of people bear witness to your false union as your wife echoes your words; her dulcet voice, like the first trickle of rain, slakes your drought.

“Won’t you seal the deal with a kiss, Captain Unohana?”

Amongst the circle of people who are uniformly dressed in white overcoats, the one whose voice has sounded mischievous has been a man with a straw hat and an additional pink garb.

Unohana. Unohana. Unohana.

A pretty name indeed, as befits a pretty woman.

The first half of his statement is entirely lost on you as you repeat the name in your mind over and over and over again. It is the delicate crawl of fingers on your face that rectifies your lapse of concentration. First thing you notice, once you have blinked the haze away, is her violet gaze that is caressing your features and her face that has unexpectedly appeared under your nose, leaving little to no space to the point that your breaths mingle.

The warmness of her breath that ghosts along the apple of your cheek smells faintly of wild flowers and herbs; then comes the silky press of her lips atop the corner of your mouth. Given the circumstances, the kiss is not entirely unpleasant. If nothing else, it is kind, and although you loathe to admit it, your heart sings under her touch.

You fail to mention before that she has rose buds for lips, and now, upon departure, they bestow upon you a beautiful pink blossom smile. It is serene, strangely soothing, and you feel at peace with the woman who is your wife, all kind eyes and saccharine smiles, but whose full name you have yet to learn.

As inclined as you feel to assume that the kiss has somehow irreversibly put you under her spell, the more logical part of you know that neither your mind nor body is tampered with; your admiration for her beauty is born purely of your unadulterated self. Since the dawn of your life, it is ironically in the hands of a stranger whose intentions with you are still unclear that you experience tenderness for the very first time. Some semblance of affection has visited you in the form of a palm cradling your cheek and lips caressing your skin, and although you know it to be nothing more than a performance, it is undeniably the closest that you have ever felt to being loved.

Her gesture has understandably moved you in the warmest of ways, and it is only given that, as she continues to drench you in gentleness and swaddle you in kindness, you will grow to forget the true nature of your marriage.

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“Follow me.”

Such has been your wife’s first words to you, a command that leaves no room for rejection, as she comes to meet you in her, or rather your shared quarters. In her absence, unsure of what to do with yourself, you have been sitting on your heels by the side of a tea table, anxiously awaiting her arrival, but immediately on her command, you arise to your feet. And then, follow her you do as she leads you outside.

In the middle of the veranda, a wooden tray lies in wait, holding on it a ceramic pot and two ceramic cups. The side of the veranda, towards which the pair of you are heading, lacks the railing, and it overlooks the other buildings in Seireitei. When she goes to take a seat beside the tray, you silently watch her. Only upon being motioned to do the same do you mirror your wife. The night is tranquil and the sky, brimming with tiny twinkles. The flickering lights from the buildings below and the glittering celestial bodies above; together, they give you the illusion that you are being swallowed into an infinite pool of stars.

In the quietness of the night, she speaks with a gentle lilt that is carried to you by a zephyr.

“You have questions for me, I take it?”

Simply sitting still in leisurely contemplation of the stars, she oozes charisma, and you cannot help but admire her. Due to the moon bathing her in its silver glow, her long hair that is tied loosely around the small of her back shines with an otherworldly sheen. She is the juxtaposition of darks and lights as the charcoal of her strands that elegantly frame her angelic face accentuates the milkiness of her skin.

“Am I that dangerous of a person for you to willingly go through with this folly?”

It is more or less a slip of your tongue. There are many questions to which you seek answers, and at the first chance, without really thinking, you end up blurting out the one thing that is on the forefront of your mind.

When her eyes seek your face and your eyes subsequently are greeted by her face, to your surprise, a smile crawls onto her lips.

“My, what gives you the impression that this marriage is a sham?”

“I was told by my father that I was to be surrendered to Seireitei, and that all he had asked in exchange was for a captain to wed me very publicly, because he hated the idea of his family name being tarnished by the likes of me.”

“The likes of you?”

Tea is poured equally into two cups; one finds itself in your hand whereas the other is taken into elegant fingers. The warmth of the liquid as you take a delicate sip thaws the chill in your bones. By the time your voice makes an escape from your lips, it is accompanied by the billowing steam from your cup.

“A menace to soul society.”

“Hmm, is that what he said?”

Your response has been a nod, and she receives it with a hum.

“I see.”

Cradling the cup in your palms, you twiddle your thumbs over the rim, lips caught between your teeth.

“Is it true?”

“Partially, that is.”

At her words, confusion reigns. However intrigued you are, you wait patiently, poising for elaboration as she takes a languid sip of her tea.

Once again, she holds your stare before she speaks. The tilt of her lips that settles back into a line indicates solemnity.

“What I’m about to tell you is highly confidential, but since it concerns you, we’ve come to a collective agreement that it wouldn’t hurt to inform you of it. That, and we necessitate your cooperation.”

“You are not inherently a peril, although if fallen into wrong hands, you will inadvertently prove hazardous to Soul Society. You have innate powers that, while you may not be able to use them, make you a catalyst of sorts. It is not Reiryoku as Shinigami possess which therefore makes you a peculiarly. Even amongst the Gotei 13, only four of us is made aware of this phenomenon, meaning that your father, too, was kept in the dark. We thought it best to take you under our wings before any of the risks become a reality.”

“Simply put, after thorough investigation of your father, we exploited his hatred for you so that you will be relinquished to us without him making a fuss. Additionally, in order not to arouse suspicion, we’ve made a false announcement to our fellow captains and subordinates. They know you to be my longtime lady-love whom I’ve decided to tie the knots with. A flourishing merchant such as your father would surely lust for publicity. He was only playing right into our hands by stating his one condition.”

Even though the bombardment of information is too much to process, now, you know with certainty that you are not necessarily rotten to the core, and that your stranger wife alongside her companions harbour no ill will towards you.

As she takes another dainty sip of the tea in her cup, you silently mirror her, mesmerised all the while by the grace and elegance with which she carries herself.

“Although an apology is in order for my sudden behaviour at the altar, as I’ve explained to you, displays of affection and physical touch are mandatory for the believability of our story. This marriage isn’t merely for show in that we have to talk and act as married couples do. Do try to put up with it.”

Talk and act as married couples do?

The implication alone has your cheeks ripening into cherries, the redness of which is only amplified by the unexpected words that go tumbling down your lips.

“I didn’t particularly mind the kiss, so an apology isn’t necessary.”

“Is that so?” The delicateness of her voice has a playful lilt to it, and it pleasantly tickles your ears. “Then, my dear wife, I’ll be counting on you from now on.”

“I- I’ll do my best.”

“My, my, aren’t you a good girl.” She wears a smile on her face that drips delight while you are painted red to the tips of your ears.

Good Girl.

Those two little words alone has single-handedly put you in a trance that the rest of the night passes in a blur. As far as you remember, the pair of you sip tea in silence until when she suggests retiring for the night, like a lost puppy, you follow her. Her quarters become your quarters and her futon, your futon because, as far as a married couple is concerned, living separately is out of the question.

Suffice to say, on the night of your wedding, you lie awake in bed, unaccustomed to the warmth of another body just inches away from yours. Amidst counting the tiles on the ceiling, you peek a look at your partner to find her at rest. Even asleep, she truly is a sight to behold. However, unbeknownst to you, she shares the same sentiment, and it is proven soon by the voice that calls out to you in the death of night.

“I’m surprised that you took me at my words without the faintest hint of scepticism.”

“Call it a gut feeling if you will but you seem to mean me no harm. Besides, I have nothing to lose by taking a chance.”

On the night of your wedding, you wear a smile to sleep.

Maybe,

Just maybe,

your chance at a better life, after all, is not entirely an impossibility.

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Unohana Retsu.

The name of your wife which you have forgotten to ask her directly has been revealed to you by her Lieutenant in the name of Isane Kotetsu.

Captain Unohana, as her subordinates address her as, is surprisingly a natural at playing lovers.

Likewise, touch-starved and thirsty for endearment, aside from shyness that stems from inexperience and her offhand compliments, you take on the role of a love-struck wife with much ease.

“My, my, darling, is that a proper way to see your wife off? How cold.”

She does a convincing job of sounding crestfallen as you walk her out of her estate, sending her off to work with only a wave of your hand.

Upon hearing her sigh, you walk up to her, letting your palms glide over the chest of your finely-dressed Captain. A kiss is demanded of you, and so, in the presence of her Lieutenant and a few other subordinates, you drop your lips to the apple of her cheek, murmuring your utterances into her fragrant skin.

“Do your best, Hana. I’ll be awaiting your return.”

Genuine surprise can be found in the widening of her eyes, albeit lasting only for a fraction of a second. And then, her lips are curving skyward, settling into a saccharine smile.

If the kiss that finds you on the tip of your nose, like the gentle flap of a butterfly’s wings, is not enough to sweep you off your feet, then the pad of the thumb that caresses the bone of your cheek certainly is. Ample, in fact.

“See you later, little flower.”

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Your wife has an unusual way of styling her beautiful long hair.

She tends to wear it in a thick braid, but instead of letting it dangle behind her back, she lets it hang below her chin almost in the form of a necklace. You will go as far as to say that it is one of her idiosyncratic features, for without it, her attire for work is incomplete. On idler days when she remains at the estate, her hair can be seen tied loosely at the small of her back.

When you have noticed how difficult it is to care for a hair of such thickness and length, you have expressed your desire to do it for her. To your delight, she has let you, and so, here you are, gingerly applying essential oil to a mane of dark hair as you comb it with great reverence.

You admire the way she sits, spine always straight, perfectly poised. The same goes for the voice that softly caresses your ears, warm and tender.

“How was your day?”

“Infinitely better than what I was used to,…” For an answer, it should suffice. And yet, “…but I’ve missed you, Hana.”

It may just be one of your flaws; you never know when to keep your mouth shut. Thankfully, she receives your divulgence with a sweet smile.

“My, you’re quite the charmer.”

Cheeks painted pink and heart thrumming giddily, you continue combing her hair. Surely, she is graced by the gods themselves; lush and healthy, her charcoal mane slips through your fingers like expensive silk.

“You called me Hana.”

“Oh! I- I did, yes. Since we’re supposed to be long time lovers, I thought it was only fitting for me to call you by a unique name. If you don’t find it agreeable, I’ll refrain from-”

“None of that. I’ve never been called a pet name, is all. It’s refreshing.”

Then, after a beat of silence, she chuckles. Until now, you have only seen her smile, having never heard her laugh or chuckle for that matter. It is the most wonderful sound, rich, warm, and the culprit behind your breath that has suddenly been stolen.

“Yachiru would like you.”

You do not know whether to rejoice or lament that such a precious sound stems from the thought of someone else. In the end, you settle on savouring it all the same.

Yachiru, whom you have the pleasure of meeting during your visit to your wife’s Ikebana Club, is quite the boisterous little lass. You feel silly and selfish in equal parts; silly for going green because of a child and selfish because you want to be the sole reason behind all the lovely sounds that she makes. On the other hand, as your wife has expected, the pink-haired girl takes an instant liking to you, sticking like glue to your side. Meanwhile, instead of paying attention to the real task at hand of arranging flowers, you end up being entranced by your wife’s gentle cadence and her distractingly gorgeous face.

When the name which you have uniquely chosen for your wife leaves your lips, Yachiru mimics you.

What you have not been expecting is for your wife to intervene.

“If you could refrain from calling me by that name Yachiru, I would appreciate it. I don’t mind you giving me a new nickname but this one is reserved for my wife. She alone calls me Hana, and I would like for it to remain that way.”

“My, Captain Unohana is very romantic!”

If you are not mistaken, the dreamy sigh comes from Matsumoto, the Lieutenant of the 10th division.

“I understand, Captain HaHa. Can I call you Captain HaHa?”

“By all means. As long as it isn’t Hana, I don’t mind.”

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More often than not, your wife’s placating smile is the testament to her benevolence as a healer, but there are times when she wields them as a weapon.

Having cultivated the habit of preparing lunchboxes for your wife and her Lieutenant, you deliver the homemade meals personally to her division. One of the things that you look forward to every day includes admiring your wife in her elements. Such little glimpses into her work life allows you to understand just how much of an influence she has on her subordinates.

Soft-spoken and kind-faced as the Captain of squad four is, even the rowdiest of Shinigami fear her; they regard her with much respect. You have yet to hear her raising her voice to someone, and even still, she has never had to repeat her will more than twice for the other person to obediently comply with it. There are people from the 11th division, who, according to the information that you have gathered, are supposed to be the most battle-hungry Soul Reapers in Seireitei, that at your wife’s gentle warning and excessively sweet smile will flee with their tails between their legs, leaving a trail of apologies in their wake.

“Oh my, treating me as if I’m some kind of ghost.”

Puzzled, she has wondered aloud, and you have found her expression heart-meltingly adorable.

During one of your visitations to her squad, you have also had the pleasure of befriending a special someone.

You remember marvelling at the giant sage green creature that is aloft; its form, very reminiscent of a manta ray. However, when you see someone climbing effortlessly down the back of the creature, you have been surprised, to say the least, to be greeted by the unmistakable voice of your wife.

Upon striding towards the pair of them, you fall prey to the surprise attack of an extremely wet tongue. Even though it leaves you resembling a drowned rat, what simmers inside you is the farthest from annoyance. If anything, you find the one-eyed giant quite lovable.

“Why, will you look at that.”

“What does it mean?”

“It means, sweet girl, that she likes you.”

Before you hug the bizarre creature, you peek a look at your wife. Only when you see the nod of her head do you advance.

“Oh! Right back at you…?” Another questioning look at your wife earns you her name. “Minazuki.”

“Miki, you adorable little munchkin!”

At your words, she emits a crooning sound that you are inclined to believe is her way of purring in pleasure.

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When your wife has some time on her hands, she has a habit of climbing mountains. It is as much a recreational activity as it is a hunt for medicinal herbs. Having been longing to accompany her during her excursions, you have, after much consideration, raised the question, only for her to readily agrees.

“Can I come?”

“I don’t see why not.”

The silence that cocoons the two of you is anything but unbearable as you amble abreast. Taking it as your opportunity, you voice the query that you have been mulling over for some time now.

“There’s something I’m curious about.”

“What are you curious about?”

“Why you?” When you steal a glance at her, you find her eyes on the track, face impassive. “There were four of you who were privy to the truth, correct? So, how come you were the one to marry me?”

Her response does not come until after a while, voice sounding serene as it usually does.

“The Captain-Commander is out of the question, and among the three of us, I was deemed the most suitable candidate. One doesn’t go out much due to how sickly he is and the other is- well, it’s unthinkable that he’ll settle for one person.”

“And what about you, Hana? Have you got no qualms?”

“Whatever the Captain-Commander asks of me, I do without question.”

Oh.

You have asked, and so she has answered. It certainly is not meant to hurt.

And yet,

“I see.”

“That, and I also happened to be the first person to learn of your existence.”

At this, you perk.

“You did? How?”

“Purely by chance, but that’s a story for another day. Now, come. The herbs I’m looking for are just up ahead.”

She teaches you about different herbs and you help her collect them, preening under her complimentary head-pats when you find the right plants, and becoming all the more hell-bent on seeking rarer herbs, for only then will you be rewarded with honey-dewed whispers. Upon stumbling across one such plant, in your excitement, you fail to see a hole in the ground as you briskly make your way through the thickets.

Needless to say, your recklessness leaves you with a strained ankle. It is your pained grunts that garner the attention of your wife. When she finds you limping, the discomfort apparent on your face, she helps you to a tree trunk. You are thankful for the arm that is stably wrapped around your waist for it halves the effort that you will otherwise have to exert.

No sooner has she sat you down onto the mossy trunk than she is kneeling before you. Taking your wounded foot into her hand, she gingerly lets it rest atop her thigh. Forefinger and thumb pluck your sock, peel it down, and doing so reveals your ankle where a bruise is already beginning to bloom.

As she works on your wound, you can feel the pads of her digits ghosting across the naked base of your calf. Her fingers, dainty in appearance, have strength in them along with callouses that you suspect are the by products of her years of sword training. Speaking of which, Minazuki, her Zanpakuto as she has taught you, Miki as you like to call her, is slung over one of your shoulders. Since her Lieutenant is absent, for today’s trip is you and your wife’s alone, you have happily taken the role of the Captain’s blade bearer.

Due to the injury that you have sustained, despite your reassuring that you are fine, your wife does not take no for an answer, and so, the expedition is cut short. Soon after the pair of you have mounted Minazuki, you fall victim to exhaustion, surrendering yourself to the clutches of sleep.

The first thing you notice upon opening your eyes is the shimmering sea of stars, with the first thing you hear being her voice that pulses warmly in your ears.

“Are you awake?”

“Hmm, where are we now?”

When you shift, you discover that your head is cushioned by her thighs.

“Not very far from home.”

You are suddenly awestruck by the vision that appears in your line of sight. Backdropped by the starry sky, she is truly a sight for sore eyes.

“How are you feeling?”

“My eyes feel hot.”

A palm finds home on your forehead. You cannot help but sigh dreamily at her cool touch that seems to instantly soothe the ache in your head.

“You have a touch of fever, I fear. Rest. I’ll wake you when we arrive.”

You can only hum, ready to succumb to slumber again. However, when you feel the withdrawal of her hand from your forehead, your fingers catch her wrist, emboldened by a feverish haze. You press it against your neck where the coolness of her flesh offers you sweet reprieve from your body’s heat. If you are not mistaken, you have felt the faintest sensation of a fingertip tracing the length of your nose before you drift.

She does, in fact, not wake you.

By the time you open your eyes, you are already under the comfort of a futon that smells distinctly of her.

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You do not know when it changes, but at one point, it does. Your marriage stops being an elaborate masquerade and starts becoming something more by the time you no longer need reminders to exercise intimacy. A kiss on her cheek, a palm on the small of her back, sweet-nothings dripping with honey; they come to you as easily as breathing, and she responds to you in kind as she always has. But then again, to be unreservedly honest, your actions, from the beginning until now, have never been absent of sincerity.

From sleeping entwined in each other’s arms to walking with your fingers intertwined, even in the absence of onlookers, in the privacy of your quarters, you behave as lovers do. Neither of you seem to notice the change, and if you do, neither of you bother to comment on it. It simply is the way it is.

“Oh, Hana, you’ve returned! Come here. Sit.”

“What is this?”

“I just thought that your feet could use some pampering after walking around all day.”

“My, you need not trouble yourself-”

“But that’s what married couples do. They look after each other.”

“Very well, then, if you insist.”

Adoration, ardour and nothing in between; that is how you sink to your knees before your deity. Raising her feet off the floor, you gingerly place them atop your thighs. When you slip the socks off her feet, you exercise both care and tenderness, barely suppressing the urge to press delicate kisses to her exquisitely dainty ankles. Once her feet are completely bare, you guide them into the bucket that is sitting in front of you. Under the warm water, you trace the little notches of her bone, run your fingertips along every dip and hill the way you want your lips to caress them.

Then, all too gently, you gather them once again into your lap where a towel awaits. You take your sweet time petting them dry, the desire to drench her porcelain skin in kisses now coming back with a vengeance. As if possessing a mind of their own, your hands slips beneath her uniform, fingers leaving playful caresses along the length of her shin.

Suddenly overwhelmingly thirsty, you wet your lips with the tip of your tongue before chancing a look at her. There is a silent question in your eyes, and she answers you with a nod of her head. As soon as the green light has been given, you carefully hike the skirt of her Shinigami uniform over her knee, allowing your fingers to knead the muscles in her calfs without interruptions.

It is true that when you have decided to give her feet a wash and a massage, you have no ulterior motives.

But now,

Now, it is entirely a different story.

The collision of your gazes sparks a flame in you.

Has the blue of her eyes always been this dark, you wonder.

*Knock*

“Captain Unohana, may I please come in?”

Hastily scrambling to your feet upon hearing Isane’s voice has you tripping over your own two feet. Your forthcoming fall is prevented by willowy fingers that latch onto your wrist. One thing leads to another, and before you know it, following a breathless “oomf”, you find yourself seated on the pillowy thighs of your wife.

Seemingly unfazed, she commands, an arm around your waist cradling you close to her chest.

“If it’s nothing important, Isane, I suggest you leave us be. My wife and I are currently in the middle of some important matters that urgently need attending to.”

“U-understood!”

It is beyond your control; your hands finding purchase on her shoulders, even more so the amicable slap that you deliver to her arm.

“Did you really have to phrase it like that?”

“Like what?”

Ah. There is no denying it. From the very first moment you behold this woman, you have fallen irrevocably in love with her.

“Hmm? Care to enlighten me?”

You do not. Care to enlighten her that is, for your lips have found hers, sampling her smile to see if it tastes as sweet as it looks. You have taken a bite out of the forbidden fruit, and there is no going back, although when you feel no reciprocation from her part, you pull back with a heavy heart.

The look on her face is indecipherable; she has always been difficult to read. Completely at a loss, you are tempted to blurt out that it has been a momentary lapse of judgement even though you know very well that it is anything but. The loudness of your rampaging thoughts is instantly lulled as soon as her lips seize yours, the fervent collision prompted by the hand that is holding you at the peak of your nape while wandering digits curl deliciously into your hair.

Likewise, greatly galvanised by the ravenous mouth that is feasting upon your lips, your fingers wander beneath her braid, and further still beneath the lapels of her uniform. It is as you are ghosting along the jut of her collarbones that your fingertips feel a patch of uneven skin just below the dip in her throat. As if electrocuted, she jolts, subsequently discarding you in the process of rising to her feet.

“You should leave.”

Leave? Leave where?

After all, this has become as much your home as it has been hers.

“Hana, I- did I do something wrong?”

“You should leave.”

Ah. Never have you thought that you will find yourself at the receiving end of the generous Captain’s genuine irritation.

As the last vestiges of warmth is entirely replaced by the chill of her stare, you decide that you will smile. You will smile for the both of you, as wide and as big as you can, a farewell to what could have been.

“I understand. I’m sorry.”

Delivering your utterances in the cheeriest voice that you can muster, you smile at her. You smile so broad that the uncomfortable stretch of your lips hurt your face.

But as soon as the door to her chamber closes with a thud behind your back, the first droplet of tear begins to fall.

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In a wicked twist of fate, you fall into the hands of malicious men who have all the intentions of maiming you beyond repair. It is drizzling, a night befitting your mood, as the cold droplets mingle with your warm tears.

There are hands, hands everywhere, tearing your clothes haphazardly off your body, hitting you when you struggle; your foot has caught one of your assailants in the crotch, and his payback comes in the form of kicks to your ribcage. Blood is leaking out of your nose from being brutally backhanded across your cheek. It forces you into a daze.

A whore. A wench. A witch.

Awful names have been called.

Four versus one; you are helpless against them. Your suffering is their satisfaction, but a rag doll in their heartless hands, as they manhandle you with a single minded purpose of ravishing you.

You feel hands on your thighs that are manipulating your body as they see fit.

You hear the rustles of fabric, frantic and foreboding.

In the face of danger, it is her face that you picture.

And then, you hear screams.

Alas, the raindrops are red, eerily reminiscent of blood.

Hands are retreating. Feet are scrambling.

And suddenly, you are alone.

With much difficulty, you sit up. When you bring your palm up to your face for examination, you find blood. Your eyes follow the scarlet trail on the ground only to be greeted by the lifeless eyes of the man who has kicked you with wild abandon. His body lies a few steps away from his head. Scattered messily across the ground are his companions, and mixed within them are parts of their bodies; a leg here, an arm there. In the middle of it all stands she, holding her blade with a head impaled on it like a grotesque skewer.

Ah. So, this. This is your Hana in her purest form, who has butchered them in cold blood as though they are mere cattle.

Such empty eyes. How merciless. How magnificent. You are not so much surprised as mesmerised. Such macabre display should scare you except that she has killed in order to save, and if nothing else, you feel cherished, you feel protected.

Sore all over as you are, you attempt to stand, immediately shaking on your legs like a newborn fawn.

“Hana.”

It is but a feeble croak that manages to bring her eyes to you all the same. In an instant, she is by your side.

Her hair is unusually undone, and it leaves the scar in the middle of her chest exposed. Surprise colours your features when her sword is unceremoniously dropped to the ground in order for her to slip free of her Captain Uniform. The white cloth is then gingerly draped over your frame which is as good as bare. Your clothes are in tatters, tears and bruises marring your features, and for once, she seems to be at a loss for words.

Although her mien betrays nothing, behind those unfeeling eyes, you can practically see the cogs turning in her head. While she appears to be in a dilemma, you take the initiative to approach her, fingers gripping the dark fabric of her Shinigami uniform white-knuckled tight.

Your forehead collapses onto her shoulder before you whisper against the hummingbird flutter of her pulse.

“Hold me, Hana. I need you to hold me, please.”

And hold you, she does. Oh, how she does, as you weep and weep and weep until with the drying of your tears, your consciousness, too, fades.

════════ ∘◦ ✾ ◦∘ ════════

“Whatever you do after the wedding is no concern of mine. Didn’t you say it so yourself?”

“Only because I thought she’ll be trea-”

“Whatever you do after the wedding is no concern of mine. Didn’t you say it so yourself?”

“Please. Please, spare me. I beg of you. Please.” The man before Unohana grovels at her feet. “I’ll give you whatever you want. Please.”

“Whatever I want?”

A series of frantic nods ensue. She cannot care less if he looks a crying mess. His state of dress: posh and pristine, his state of being: without a nick, only reminds her all the more of you, bloody and bruised, and her blood boils. Oh, how her blood boils!

“What I want is your head!”

“What I want is your heart!”

“What I want is you sliced in half!”

Looming over the cowering excuse of a man, she sinks her sword into his chest, inch after inch of blood-drenched blade penetrating his flesh.

“Well? Do you think you can give me what I want?”

“Please. I- I’m sorry. Have- have mercy.”

“Mercy, you say?” The moonless night echoes with a maniacal laughter, dark and haunting. “How laughable!”

“No matter, you will die at my hands. And you will die tonight. My bloodlust will not be sated unless you die. So, die you will whether you like it or not.”

════════ ∘◦ ✾ ◦∘ ════════

“I received a letter this morning.” You speak into her chest as you lie cocooned in her arms. “Father has passed.”

“Does it upset you?”

A fervent shake of your head should suffice for an answer. Still, you voice your reason.

“He may have been my mother’s devoted husband but he was never my father.”

Silence reigns. Her fingers trace patterns on the small of your back while your face nuzzles the little notch of her throat.

“Thank you, Hana, for being my sunshine after the rain.”

In a show of sincerity, you press a delicate kiss to the scar beneath your lips. When your face is brought out of its safe little cocoon, it is only so that she can take a bite out of the sweet, succulent fruit. She conquers your lips in the same way she has conquered your heart, and all too happily, you let her consume you. Body, mind and soul.

By these hands that are no stranger to bloodshed, you have been healed. In more ways than one.

In these arms that are capable of destruction, you have found solace.

A healer or a killer, Retsu or Yachiru, she is your beloved wife all the same, and you intend to cherish her for all that she is.

In sickness and in health.

In good time and in bad.

In perpetuity. In tandem.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

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ma1dita · 20 days

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🐥 drop an ask for a short blurb/headcannon! send me a prompt and i’ll get to work as soon as i can (check requests for guidelines -> will write fluff, smut, angst, crack)

Child of Apollo headcanons? I have a daughter of Apollo Luke Castellan fic I'm working on! By working on I mean have done the characters and that's it

🐥🐥🐥🐥🐥

child of apollo headcannons

i have a soft spot for children of apollo im gonna be real,,, this is gonna be a combination of research & random thoughts—mans usually has a decent amount of kids and a variety of specialities so choose what you like

has perfect pitch, always. think of charlie puth being annoying and naming notes easily, which is the annoying part about it because you’re always right

impeccable ability to play by ear; one listen to any song and you can replicate it perfectly on any instrument or you’ll know all the lyrics

imagine having like a banshee-like scream? or maybe a voice that can break glass

or maybe your singing is persuasive like a siren

the ability to enchant instruments to all start playing, even if you’re by yourself, like a one-person show

awesome healer yes, but i would think you’d be healed by sunlight alone, whether it be skin regrowing or sunlight as a powerup

uses the sun as a lie-detector (i used this in one of my fics for the trouble!verse); sunbeams to confirm whether someone’s lying or not

besides being an awesome marksman, you’re also killer at darts and pool and anything that involves shooting

constellated skin; when the sun shines on you, you look like you’re radiating bursts of light

no sunburns! always sunkissed and smelling like a summer day

body clock wakes you up at the crack of dawn when your dad is starting to spread morning light

internal body temp is always warm; the person you want to snuggle next to when its cold

#jo's 23rd birthday bash ⋆｡°✩#percy jackon and the olympians #child of apollo #cabin 7 pjo #pjo x reader #pjo imagine

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dark-elf-writes · 9 months

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Sharing the sharingan:

Itachi being like “huh, what? You just told me to kill all the Uchiha’s Mr.Danzo. And this piece of paper clearly says that man is NOT an Uchiha. You’d think the shadow hokage would know how to fucking read.”

What to do when your teammate uses you to commit suicide (a self help guide for the lost, confused, and used)

the book is blank because hey it’s a first for me too kid.

An Uchiha who turns to love rather than hate.

Them taking care of Sakumo’s body and cleaning the blood off kakashi :’(

ACE/ARO REP BITCHESSSSS

Kakshi double fisting a weirdly accurate self help book and pure smut while white knuckling his mental health.

Two bros chilling in a one room apartment with a hoard of semi-adopted kids co-writing porn for their little brother’s mental health because they’re not gay

ADHD Hyuga 0-0

Naruto buying Kabuto and scaring him with his teeth cuz he won’t go to any other healer but the Uchiha

“Destroy eyes” pact now including one traumatized dog man

May the lord have mercy on your insignificant soul because I swear to god if I ever see your bitch ass again I will not.

Gordon Uchiha

As much as it hurts to see the light come for his pups he’s so fucking glad they get to live another day, get to break the cycle of the Hatakes (because they are all Hatakes no matter what clans two of them were born into) dying young.

*sniffle*^^^^^

Big Lap Dog problem where the pups grew bigger and Sakumo did not as he is dead, so where two scrawny teenagers and an actual toddler never knocked Sakumo over three ANBU who have long since grown out of the gangliness of youth and have spent years packing on muscle through training very much do.

But you are incredibly correct imagining them as different heights is somehow deeply upsetting and they have to be the exact same height for Reasons

The three friend killers. With phantom blood of enemies and once allies forever staining their hands. The three remaining sharingan users. All of them with a flee on sight status in most bingo books. All of them cuddling in the nearly empty lounge.

The Uchiha: oh yeah…sorry I called you a bitch. The Hyuga: it’s fine. I am a bitch.

So when she knows she can't escape (She was never going to beat them, they have always been better than her no matter how hard she tried) she decides to just.... let their jutsu hit her. To die by her brothers hands is probably the best end she could hope for.

She stands back from the fire at first when the boys finally meet them (too soon. Far too soon) but kakashi spots her in the dark just like he always had. And what chance did she have not to be buried under the weight of her brothers (what were they all eating that they had gotten so damn tall.

one soul in two bodies, the closest someone could be to another person without cracking their chest open to crawl inside (she wondered one day if one of them would. Would take that final step to rejoin their hearts until they were one whole being again.) they had taken different approaches to the hatred

Seeing two Byakugan split between two faces. Knowing that the eyes once called the true heart of a dojutsu user were swapped between the two in actuality.

Sasuke constantly stuck in a game of catch-up he never seems to win. Chasing after distant goals and figures he can barely see, let alone match.

The third teammate in sharing the Sharingan: “But she’s still the outsider, she doesn’t share their strange pack mentality…”. Me: it’s the neurodivergence babe.

!!!!!

#the elf talks #naruto #sharing the sharingan #ngl a lot of these are my favs too #that being said I don’t remember where the ‘sorry I called you a bitch’ ‘no yah I am a bitch’ was but I now have to go find that post #because I’m cackling okay #I also like the ‘they are probably going to crack the other open and crawl inside’ line because yeah #that’s how they be #also can never forget the absolute banger like #it’s the neurodivergence babe

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thewhumperinwhite · 4 months

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WKW: The Healer's Shame

Story Masterpost Here // Continued directly from here

@whump-cravings @whumpitywhumpwhump @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi also please dm me if you wanna be on the taglist, since i take so long between updates idk who's still active

TW for: broken bones (incl. ribs and spine) (and its gross); punctured lung and difficulty breathing; guilt and self-hatred; past parental abuse; implied/mentioned alcoholism; pretty sure Thorne is having a full panic attack at the end there also.

----

Feira has been the Healer at Colomur Castle for nearly 30 winters now, not including the two years she spent under the apprenticeship of her predecessor, back when she had lived through barely twenty winters and still considered the position one of great honor. She was here when Audoine became the Lion, after his third or fourth great victory on the battlefield; she mixed the ointment the old man rubbed into his battle-scars until the very week of his death. She put the old man’s shoulder back in its place when the third boar he insisted on tilting with nearly tore it from its socket; she kept the old man’s limp at bay for nearly ten years before she finally told him to swallow his pride and walk with a cane. And, of course, she delivered the old man’s children, both; placed two healthy babes into the Queen’s arms and sent a servant each time to congratulate the King on the birth of a son.

And when they brought one of those sons to her, brave and beautiful and barely fifteen, after his father had rent the flesh of his back to the bone, after the Lady had tangled her aura up with his and moved his body and spoken with his mouth, after he was no longer dead but lay on her table as still as a corpse and nearly as cold from all the blood he had spilled on the dirt of the castle courtyard, Feira—stayed. She did not hand in her Patronage and look for other work. She let the guards bring in the body of the babe she had delivered, and she bound it back together with cloth and tree sap and the scant bit of magic her predecessor’s Patron allowed her. In the same mortar where she mixed soothing ointments for an old warlord’s aches and pains, she mixed new ones that might allow his son to lift his arms without tearing his slowly-scarring back wide open again, someday. And when he could walk again, she let him—let him walk back into the halls of the man who had killed him; let him eat across the table from his murderer; let him kneel at his killer’s feet and swear fealty again as the Lady’s bearer.

There was a time—this was after Audoine broke the prince’s wrist when he was ten but before he knocked out half the prince’s hearing with a thrown stone paperweight—when Feira successfully convinced herself that she was—mitigating harm. That there might still be kindness in remaining; that she might hold the princes together better than whoever they would get to replace her if she left. She may even—this is embarrassing to think of, now—have believed for a few years that perhaps if she healed a cracked rib or a bruised collarbone well enough, the Lion of Colomur might not break it a second time.

Feira is too old to believe any of that now, of course. She knows herself too well. She knows that she possesses just the wrong amount of kindness, and of bravery, and of honor. Too much to ignore the princes’ bruises; too little to stand before the King and demand that he no longer beat his sons; too little to storm out of her cushy little salon and declare that if all the rest of the staff wish to turn a blind eye they may find another Healer. Just enough to sit here, to watch the Summer Prince grow, survive his father, stand straighter and prouder and braver every summer, and end all her days in town drinking enough bad whiskey to fall asleep without worrying about what the Lion will do when he realizes that his son is outshining him.

As Fourshield House is falling, Feira holes herself up in her salon, glad she keeps an extra whiskey bottle under her desk. Perhaps, she thinks, the Lion will be victorious; certainly no one has succeeded in killing him thus far, and many better men have tried. If the White Crane triumphs, she thinks, he may well wish to employ a Healer. The devil Feira knows is bad enough; there is only so much worse the devil she has not yet met can be.

When they bring Prince Andry back to her, his lungs are filling up with blood, and he is dying.

----

When Thorne stumbles through the door of the Healer’s room, for the second time in as many days, the old woman is sitting at her desk, and snaps her head up to glare at him, looking tired and immediately disgusted.

Then she sees the stretcher he and Heron are carrying, and she leaps to her feet.

“What have you done?” she wails, in her own language; in Andry’s. She is not angry, this time. Her immediate, horrified grief is even worse.

“Well go on, put him down already,” Crow snaps from behind him, unnecessarily. Thorne is shuffling the stretcher through the doorway as fast as he can, nearly dragging Heron, who is watching the tortured arch of Andry’s back with too much interest to carry his weight. Crow steps into the Healer’s room after them and closes the door, primly.

Andry is still breathing. The sound is worse, now; there is a bubble at the end of every breath that is making Thorne taste vomit in the back of his throat. But Andry isn’t dead.

(“Thank you,” was what Andry said to him. After Thorne had left him alone with three guards, because he was too much of a child to think that might be a bad idea; but before he immediately left him alone again. Thorne—thought he had locked the door to his rooms, before he left Andry asleep in there. Like he was learning to think, and not to be so bloody stupid all the time. “Thank you,” Andry said, before Thorne left him alone again.)

(But he isn’t dead. He isn’t dead.)

“You’re a Magician, too, aren’t you?” Crow says to the Healer, as calm and arch as ever, as if he wasn’t speaking over the sound of Andry dragging air through his bruised and swollen throat and into his flooding and bubbly lungs. “Orders from the White Crane are to save him, if you can.”

They have set the stretcher on the Healer’s table. The Healer has been looking at Andry, her face white behind her thick spectacles; she snaps around to look at Crow, now, and for a second there is hatred in her face like Thorne has never seen; not on Raven, or the Lion, or on all the children who threw stones at him when he was small; like if she could tear Crow’s heart out with her hands she would do it. Then she sets her face—Thorne thinks she might literally bite her tongue, hard—and turns back to the table where Andry is dying.

“His back is broken,” Heron tells her cheerfully, “look here.” And he puts his hand on Andry’s hip, and pushes down. Andry’s hip rolls easily, with no resistance at all; something grinds audibly with a stomach-churning crunch.

The Healer drops the bandages she has been reaching for and slaps Heron so hard that he stumbles backward, his mask sliding back over his hair to reveal his wrinkled, plain, utterly gobsmacked face.

Crow laughs once, too loud. There is a long moment of silence; Thorne’s heart has dropped into his stomach, and Heron and the Healer are staring at each other in what seems to be mutual surprise and alarm.

Andry’s next breath turns into a violent gagging cough at the end, and that snaps the Healer out of it.

“Get them the fuck out of here, Dog,” she snarls at Thorne, in Craetan. Thorne’s heart stutters in his chest; the idea of even trying to tell Crow and Heron to do anything—

The Healer bends over Andry to put her ear against his breathbone; he makes a horrible sound, an awful choking wail.

Thorne has grabbed the back of Heron’s cloak before he even realizes he is moving. “We’ve got to go,” he says, and Heron is still startled enough to let himself be bundled out of the room. Crow follows, and he is laughing again.

When they are in the hallway, and the door has closed on the sound of Andry’s terrible gasping breaths, Thorne feels for a moment as though the floor is slipping away from under his feet, his knees weak with relief and horror. Crow and Heron are both looking at him curiously, and that is enough of an emergency for Thorne to blink his vision halfway clear again. He tells them a lie he won’t remember later, about where they are needed now instead of here. Heron’s face is unreadable behind his readjusted mask; Crow’s is visible and full of doubt, but they do leave him. Thank all gods.

When he has sunk to the floor beside the door to the Healer’s room, and is sitting there in silence with his hands over his face, the hallway is silent enough that Thorne can just barely hear the sounds from inside—Andry’s harsh breathing, sometimes punctuated by a thin whine or a sobbing cry or, once, a throat-scraping shriek that makes Thorne tremble down to his toes; and, under that, the Healer’s voice, repeating something over and over. It’s too low for Thorne to be sure, but he thinks it might be: “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

#winter king's ward #the winter king's ward #original whump #fantasy whump #royalty whump #past abuse #guilt #angst #broken bones #broken spine #picture feira as like. mid-fifties lady; round glasses; fully gray ponytail #she and russ from cafe are forming a. cynical gay alcoholic doctors support group

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mejomonster · 1 year

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Checked out Desire Catcher ep 1:

Thrilled the lead actors aren't as young as I expected

The main Luo guy looks so familiar to me, what have I seen him in before....

The other guy looks familiar too, but I think he looks like Khaotung from gmmtv and that's why

Luo Fei.... Luo fei.... Luo fei? You mean like Luo wenzhou and fei du????!!! I am aware the fei in fei du is费, and this one is fei 飞. But. Hear me out. Is this an original script? Maybe the script writer ships zhoudu. I can imagine, even if its not true. ToT

The setup, if at any point it turns magical/sci fi etc, reminds me of death note: being able to kill remotely and investigating that and all. And I do love some magic in an otherwise mundane reality story

Right now it's like that movie where ppl hear a trigger word then kill, except here they die

For some reason I heard some ppl saying this was gonna be bromance vibes? Well, I'll find out. I do think though that it will likely lend itself to such option (like Under the Skin perhaps? I haven't seen Under the Skin yet though)

I WILL say that... while there's the whole danmei not airing situation, and completely made shows not airing that were bl novel adaptations... mango TV is just the kind of bitch to drop an original script bl through the cracks. First, because they've written original script bl before (wasn't Killer and Healer an original script first before novelization?). Second, because it seems original scripts With bromance undertones is getting a much easier time airing right now: one example being League of Nobleman, another being Pledge of Allegiance. So any original script with Any level of gay stuff I imagine is having an easier time airing rn (also in mango tvs case right now? They're not high Press releases. There's a LOT of eyes on say Sha Po Langs drama than on this random one).

I like the vibe of this show. It's leaning darker/more realistic, feels like the kind of novels I read. Like Justice in the Dark, it has a dead animal early on and a murder scene early on. Not sure how many cdramas skew that direction in scary (or dark idk?) But this one clearly is going that route. Which I personally like (again giving me Under the Skin vibes).

ZHAO YUNLANS DAD IS IN THIS PLAYING A SHADY BITCH (GO FIGURE)

the old professor man almost... looks like he could also be Shen Weis old professor mentor from Guardian, but I don't remember that face as well... so this old professor guy could be from a number of dramas I've seen

Not to compare to Justice in the Dark cause I imagine it's totally unintentional, so it's just funny to me. But I Did Notice we have a Captain Luo, a girl cop whos on his team with That Haircut, and a guy cop who's a little less put together than Luo who talks to That Girl and you... you gotta admit visually they look a lot like Lang Qiao and Xiao Haiyang in casting and just character roles (initially) in the story. If I saw someone filling Tao Rans role I'd be really !!!. But no Tao ran like guy yet. However, our consultant? Ohoho... he's a criminal psychology consultant is he (like Fei Du), his professor helped get him in with the cops (like fei du you say?), he's a bit of a little shit (!!!fei du?!!), he's got slightly longer hair (was that a character design choice or just how the actor looked, either way very Fei Du). And I find it all just a Touch funny. ToT (also I miss Justice in the Dark). It's not Actually like Luo wenzhou/fei du though, as these two don't seem yo know each other and therefore Luo hasn't raised him for like 7 years. The dynamic is therefore Way Different.

I almost get a touch of Guardian or Torchwood vibes and I'm not even quite sure why, cause this first episode was Not campy at all or comedic. It's fairly like Beyond Evil type, murder mystery procedural and a bit heavy. But mm just like... design choices I think. Not the writing, not the directing or sound, just like the sets. The sets look way less bizarre than guardian don't get me wrong. But something about certain choices In them. The touch of bright colors at the first murder scene. The odd pink light. The glowing globe on the desk. The room of papers on the wall and a big crane light. The weird dining table on the roof with a big outer building sign in neon across the street. The focus on the Nokia phones, the Lolipop. Just like... lots of small detail decisions but they strike me as Not quite usual, enough to make it not seem like The Bad Kids (and those kind of realistic shows) in set design. Maybe... a bit like Tomb of the Sea? How tots was mostly realistic looking but there'd be a fucking stuffed animal in a kidnapping living room. Little details you notice enough to oddly remember.

All that said? I Like the set designs a LOT. It feels like Watching a murder mystery novel. It's similar to Justice in the Dark in NAILING the right atmosphere, a good coloring gradient for realism but also Slightly distorted/unknown, in sets that look done enough to feel lived in and like actual places, and with the kind of unique small details a Real place might have (like a fake office might just have office stuff, but THIS Xue guys office has some unique knick knacks so it feels more like an actual place thay could exist, etc).

I'll probably give it more eps. It was my kinda thing. Didn't absolutely capture me in ep 1 but honestly I saw just enough familiar faces that I was partly playing guessing games of where they were from in my mind and so it'll probably take me a few eps to settle and just click or not with it

I loved it's opening and ending though and... usually if I like those 90% chance I like the shows

#desire catcher #lb #i like its vibe

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itsamebubza · 1 year

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@kkskevents

Day 01 - Swapped. "I put a spell on you"

little fic for context below the cut!

Fuck.

They had been warned. Her whole squad.

It had done a whole lot of nothing to prevent the outcome. She should have known as soon as the Hokage hadn’t dignified her team with debriefing for the mission given her closeness to the guy.

Rokudaime Nohara knew this guy. She KNEW she had sent Team Se to the slaughter house, and this guy wouldn’t fucking quit. It had been three days and he had kept on pursuing the crumbs of her team, now down to Rat and Hare - herself.

She had done well enough evading the fucker, until she had accidentally breathed too loudly only two feet away from her pursuer, earning five shuriken and a kick she was sure had broken a rib or two.

See, some people were strong because of dedication, will power and sheer luck. She counted herself as part of this group. Others were born with it. This one, however, was a sick amalgamation of both. Who had been insane enough to teach this maniac healing jutsu deserved hell.

Agent Hare had seen her fair share of fucked-up, but seeing -no, hearing and smelling flesh and bone simultaneously burning and healing had to be on the top three of cursed memories. Friend Killer Kakashi, the Copy Ninja, all worthy names for the man. None fit him better than Raikiri Healer.

Hare smelled the ozone in the air, like she had three other times in the last hours, the glow of death shining brightly to the chorus of a thousand birds just beyond the closest trees.

“I’m going to give you the same option I gave your team” his voice was pure ice as his steps cracked to the recently fallen trees. It was almost Konoha’s Foundation day - or had it passed already? She had promised Boruto and Hima-chan, or their parents really, she would take them to the fair.

“I’ll heal you if you go back to Konoha” he finished, his tone turning tired as he stood only five feet from her.

Her mask, having been hanging by a thread, fell from her face.

Something flashed through his eyes, a mixture between sadness and recognition she didn’t understand, but it had caused his killer raikiri to falter, suddenly bathing them in darkness.

“I have orders. I’ll still… have to… kill you” her breathing was labored. Maybe she was more tired than she thought she was.

He stayed quiet, as if measuring her with that stolen eye. His voice was just above a whisper when he spoke again.

“I know.”

#kksk2022 #kakasaku #anbu sakura #medic kakashi #kakashi hatake #sakura haruno #xenearts #prose

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a-single-log-bridge · 9 months

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Churan : Are you alright? You look like you didn't sleep much last night.

Jiang Yuelou : I got a solid 8 minutes sleep.

Jiang Yuelou : Not consecutively but it's alright . You're not even that blurry.

#chen yuzhi #hen jun bu si jiang lou yue #ian yi #jiang yuelou #killer and healer #killer and healer memes #incorrect killer and healer #killer and healer crack #someome get this man a memory foam mattress and chain him to it until he gets enough sleep

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fallenangelontheceiling · 9 months

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Roy Kent's Astrology Chart

Based on info from the FIFA game. This might be the most fitting astrology chart for a fictional character I've seen, thanks synchronicity.

He has his Moon in Scorpio which is full of intense, enduring emotions, prone to possessiveness, a need for deep emotional connection, can't stand superficiality. And where is all this energy? Buried in the 12th house of the subconscious. 12th house moons are used to repressing their emotions and have a hard time pinning down exactly what they're feeling, they're scared if they crack open that door a flood of neediness will pour out. They are often incredibly empathetic and try to take care of others at an emotional distance (social workers, working with other people's kids, etc.)

The Moon is ruling his Cancer 8th house of sex, so that 8th house energy also ends up in the subconscious of the 12th house (“I could never be that free"). His North Node is there so part of his soul growth is to emotionally connect with others deeply (it doesn't mean just sex).

The early nurturing was interrupted in some way. This especially seems the case since he has Chiron, the wounded healer, in tight opposition to his Moon.

Aquarius Mercury square Pluto doesn’t give a fuck about pissing off authority and would rather give a stony silence than lie.

Scorpio rising at the 29* degree. Tall, dark, and handsome. Intense. Never smiles. Known for that hip thing he does during sex.

Since we keep talking about sex... Let's get to the Libra Pluto/Saturn/Mars all conjunct. Mars in 10th is a good placement for an athlete. Mars in justice loving Libra hates a bully, although they usually try not to make waves until they absolutely have to.

Now there's sooo much to be said for the Saturn/Mars conjunction so I'll try to be brief - Saturn is restraint and Mars is action, there's tension between the two energies, but once the native commits to hardwork they can become very disciplined and accomplished. This is considered the classic Man's Man aspect. (All the James Bond actors have had a Saturn-Mars aspect.) Now add in the obsessiveness of Pluto and you have a recipe for a formidable athlete. Or a serial killer? Maybe just a healthy dom kink? Regardless, this combination makes him more proactive than the typical Libra Mars.

The fact that they all trine his Sun speaks to him being a natural leader who can actually express himself well (3rd house) when he puts himself out there.

His Venus in Capricorn likes to show affection in practical and tangible ways. Much like his Scorpio Moon it will not settle for superficiality, it wants to build something real once it commits. However it can become sensitive over matters of status or reputation. Unfortunately his Venus isn't making any easy aspects. It is square the Mars/Saturn/Pluto combo which means there's tension between his romantic (Venus) and sexual (Mars) nature, as well as hesitancy to express himself (Pluto and Saturn). (This suggests someone who may’ve been romantically awkward in their youth and coasts on status.) Relationships - both platonic and romantic - won't be easy, but are absolutely necessary to mature (Saturn) and grow (Pluto).

He has his Rising, Sun, and Moon all in Fixed signs (Aquarius - Fixed Thoughts, Scorpio - Fixed Emotions), giving him a stubborn nature, resistant to change, or at least change needs to happen gradually. The Sun - Moon square speaks to conflict between his emotional needs (Scorpio - closeness, protectiveness) and ego needs (Aquarius - detached, explore life from a curious but comfortable distance), it feels like in order to satisfy one need the other must be sacrificed.

Jamie's chart is here. If you want me to do a really simplistic synastry breakdown I did notice a few interesting things. @disasterbijamietartt

#roy kent #ted lasso #astrology #ted lasso astrology #scorpio moon #scorpio rising #aquarius sun

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killerandhealerqueen · 3 months

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Shipper Tag Game

Tagged by @brazilian-whalien52 thank you friend!

1. What ship were you completely obsessed with when you were a teenager, but now you don't care anymore?

All of my old ships, like Destiel, Sabriel, Johnlock, Mystrade...I used to be super into Supernatural and Sherlock but I've like completely moved on from them. Though I do like to dive back into Johnlock fics every now and then

2. Which ship would you consider your first one?

USUK from Hetalia or either KakaVege from Dragonball Z. It's between those two, I think

3. Your first fanfic belonged to which couple?

Definitely USUK. You have no idea how many fics I read over on Deviantart about them. So many

4. Do you remember the first couple you saw a fanart over?

USUK or Russia x China from Hetalia...it was one of them. Can't remember, honestly

5. Did you ever get into ship discourse?

No. I don't get into discourse. I'm not very confrontational and I never liked fighting with anyone over their ships

6. Did you used to have any no-otp or have it currently?

FRUK or whatever the fuck France x UK was called. Can't remember. They were never a favorite of mine. Also Wincest. Like why?

7. Who were the couple in the last fanfic you read?

Bai Yutong x Zhan Yao (it was my own fanfic, thank you)

8. Currently, do you have any OTPs?

Normal about them a normal amount (don't look at my blog or ao3)

9. Is there any couple that, to this day, you are extremely mad about not getting together?

Um...honestly, I can't remember.

10. Is there any ship you used to dislike but now you think they are kind of interesting?

No, not really. If I dislike a ship, I just tend not to interact with it. So I won't go looking for content about it or check it out, even if a mutual or someone is talking about it

11. Do you have any ship that, in the past, was considered normal but now you would be cancelled over?

Sebaciel, Eren x Levi, anything hetalia related...these were all like the normal ships in middle school for me and like...now people (especially on instagram but who the fuck listens to people on instagram) just do not like them. But I still like them.

12. What was your favorite crack ship?

I never did crack ships, honestly. Which might seem weird to some people but it was just never my thing

13. Who is the couple you read more fanfics off?

Now, if we're talking about my own fanfics, it's Yuezhi. I read so much of my own fics about them. But if we're not then...McDanno is the one who has the most bookmarks in my ao3 bookmarks

14. What most of your ships usually have in common?

Enemies to lovers, doctor x cop, black and white couple (means one wears black/dark clothes majority of the time and the other wears light/white clothes majority of the time), grumpy x sunshine...i'm sure there are other things but i can't remember

15. What you absolutely hate in a ship?

Miscommunication. Like, you're supposed to be in love with each other, right? Which means you communicate with each other for fucks sake. I know miscommunication is a big romance trope but it's just so stupid. It causes so much drama and unnecessary anxiety and just...just fucking talk to each other you assholes (I will give a pass to this trope if it's done well...like you think it's a misunderstanding but actually the characters have talked about this and they're faking the misunderstanding/miscommunication. Killer and Healer has some miscommunication but it actually makes sense why there's miscommunication...doesn't mean I have to like it, but it makes sense, so it gets a pass)

tagging: @clawbehavior @missjudge-me @hyperbolicgrinch @ahhhnorealnamesallowed @fourth-quartet @nineninepetals @marulo @writerwithoutsound @hils79 @godotismissingx @darktecno @zennialemo and anyone else who wants to play

#tag game #shipper tag game

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alovesongshewrote · 2 years

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Is There a Doctor on this Plane? (Yes, yes there is.) - P1 | Eddie Munson x Reader

Plot: Eddie runs right into danger like an idiot. Luckily, you just so happen to be a doctor- or a med student, at least. [Eddie Munson x Gender Neutral!Reader] Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7

Word count: 4,103

Warnings: SPOILERS FOR STRANGER THINGS SEASON FOUR, VOLUME 2. blood and violence, mild gore, descriptions of medical procedures, brief, brief character death

Disclaimer: Uh, yeah, fuck netflix, and fuck whoever came up with having a "stranger things experience" in a former n*zi prison where jewish and romani people were exterminated. that's an incredibly fucked up thing to do, and i do not support or endorse it.

A/N: This is a fix it for the end of season four. It's also the first of three parts. i would've made it one part, but i get the sense that one big part exceeding like, 5k words would be a teensy bit too long, y'feel? anyway, PART 2 IS OUT NOW

Tags: @twistedhistory

Eddie Munson was a menace, but he was your menace, so you let that slide. Every single time you talked about getting into medical school, he would gently make fun of you. Of course, his jokes were rarely at your expense. Instead, he usually chose to make fun of the medical world- and honestly, most of the time he had a point. The medical system was (and is) fucked up and very easy to make fun of.

But that was why you wanted to become a doctor, as you had explained to him so many times. You wanted to change the world of medicine for the better. More than that, you wanted to do better; to protect and care for the people that the medical system failed. You wanted to do good for the world- you wanted to save some part of it. To save the people left behind.

Whenever you talked about it, Eddie would always crack a smile. Not a teasing grin, but a genuine smile. Of course, he would continue to tease you after, but he had to admit, your desperation to save others was one of the things he loved most about you. You were so optimistic and so borderline naive, and you wanted to do good so badly. You were nothing less than a hero to him, and in his eyes, you were worth so much more than he could ever be.

He couldn’t tell you that, though- not unless he was super fucking high, which he rarely was around you. Instead, he teased you lovingly, supported you silently, and always let you play healers in DnD.

And you loved it. You loved him. He genuinely believed in you, and he understood you in a way almost no one else did- and you believed in him. You encouraged him in all things. You took his side in almost every debate, almost every argument. And he was so loud and so weird, and you fucking loved it. Even when he made fun of you, he did it differently from everyone else. To you, he was perfect, and he was worth the world itself.

But you didn’t tell him that. You wouldn’t tell him that unless one of you was on death’s fucking door, banging on it, and trying to get in. Yes, that is foreshadowing, but you didn’t think it was at the time. Instead, you supported him loudly, loved him silently, and played DnD even though you despised how much of the game was left to chance.

You spent your years in high school like this, happy and quietly in love. And then, when you did graduate (and when he didn’t) he made one last joke about you going off to become a doctor- which, of course, you were. You can’t remember the joke, but you can remember that you laughed, and told him that he would regret teasing you one day.

You fucking hated being right.

Two years after you graduated, you went home for spring break. Things went to shit surprisingly fast. You thought the worst things waiting for you in Hawkins would be judgy conservative relatives and neighbours. Alas, things were a little worse than that.

Within hours, you learned about the existence of alternate dimensions, bloodthirsty monsters, and supernatural serial killers who were out for the blood of teens. That was already an awful situation, but of course, it had to get worse. Eddie, your beloved menace, had gotten himself accused of murder. What’s more, he had also become the target of a town-wide manhunt! Delightful! Just fucking delightful.

Not long after your worldview was flipped, bent, and broken, you found yourself in the Upside Down, distracting demobats with Eddie and the freshman he’d apparently adopted. For a med student, a metalhead, and a high schooler, you actually put up a pretty good fight. Or at least you were until the demobats broke into Eddie’s trailer.

He shoved you and Dustin behind him, slamming the door to his bedroom shut before hurrying the two of you through the gate and back into the normal world.

“Come on, Eddie,” your voice shook in several places, but you ignored it, “Get up, come on.”

His hands were on the makeshift rope. He was so close, so close- but he stopped. Why did he stop?

“You’re so close, Eddie, let’s go!!!” Dustin yelled, jumping up and down beside you.

With a last look to you and Dustin, Eddie let go of the rope. Then he cut it down.

“Eddie! What are you doing!? Eddie, no!”

“Eddie-? No, no, no, no, no, no, no, you fucking asshole!” your hands carded through your hair as you watched Eddie move the mattress on his side of the gate, effectively trapping you and Dustin.

“Eddie, stop! Eddie, stop! Stop, stop!” the kid was losing his mind at your side.

You genuinely couldn’t blame him- especially when Eddie turned to the both of you and said, “I’m buying more time.”

Trash can shield braced on his arm, he ran out of view as you and the kid screamed after him.

“Shit, that idiot!” you pulled yourself and the kid back, looking around frantically for something to help you get back into the Upside Down. Thinking quickly, the kid grabbed a nearby chair and got ready to jump through the gate.

Before he could, you grabbed the back of his shirt, “Hang on, kid, if anything happens to you, Eddie’ll kill me.”

“HE MIGHT NOT LIVE TO KILL YOU, LET ME GO!”

“Let me go first!” you yelled, “You can follow me after, just let me put the mattress back, okay?”

Dustin nodded, and just like that, you were making your way through the portal. You fell hard, probably spraining your ankle on the way down. You bit your lip to muffle your scream of shock and pain. Your lungs pulled in the foul air around you desperately as you tried to control your breathing and numb yourself to the pain. You had to get up- Eddie needed you.

With some difficulty, you pulled yourself up from the ground and manoeuvred the mattress into position. Once you gave Dustin the all-clear, he jumped, landing safely and with a dull thud. You gave him a hand up, and without another word, the two of you ran out the door after your dumbass metalhead.

He wasn’t hard to find. A hurricane of bats swirled before you. A sickening cacophony of screeches and shrieks filled the air. Above it all, you swore you could hear him screaming. He must’ve been in the eye of the storm, stranded behind a wall of monsters, separated entirely from you and Dustin. You and the kid ran for the swarm, screaming Eddie’s name as you went. The bats paid you no mind, choosing to focus on their current prey instead. With no other choice available to you, you shoved Dustin behind you.

“STAY THERE, I’LL BE RIGHT BACK!”

“(Y/N), NO!”

Taking a page out of Eddie’s book, you sprinted into danger, running through the demobats until you found what you were looking for.

Your voice cracked when his name left your lips. He was pinned down, all of his limbs held in the tails of those fucking bats. He struggled, but there wasn’t much he could do- he was trapped. Your screams joined his as more monsters descended on him, tearing into his skin. They were going to kill him if you kept standing there- they were going to kill your best friend.

You weren’t about to let that shit fly.

Picking up the weapon he dropped, you ripped into the bats, taking out as many as you could. You pulled them off of Eddie, stabbing, striking, and sending the bats into the endless abyss of death. One by one, the bats turned their attention to you. Scratching and tearing, they attacked without mercy- but you were no different. You were ruthless, a violent beast, slaughtering monsters left and right. You felt nothing as the creatures ripped into your flesh. You felt nothing as they bit down into your shoulders and arms. What you did feel, within every part of you, within every cell of your body, was pure blind rage.

You were almost inhuman- a monster to some, and a god to others, but at the end of the day, you could still be taken off balance. A lucky demobat got the best of you, knocking you to the ground and shredding your skin. You cried out in surprise, landing on your side in a weird way- if your ankle wasn’t sprained before, it definitely was now.

You put your arms up as the bat attacked your face. It pushed you further into the ground, and you screamed as you tried to fight it off. Another bat attacked your thigh, ripping another pained yelp from your throat. You could feel them breaking you, now- and thanks to your medical knowledge, you could tell exactly what they were doing to you.

As the bats swarmed, you started to wonder if this was the end for you. Honestly, dying here wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. You would go out on your own terms, and at Eddie’s side. You couldn’t complain about that.

Dustin and Eddie could, though! The former burst through the torrent of bats and tore the creatures off of you before helping you to your feet.

“KID? I TOLD YOU TO STAY PUT!” you yelled over the screeches of the swarm.

“THAT’S A WEIRD WAY OF SAYING THANK YOU!”

With a laugh, you and Dustin turned, standing back to back at Eddie’s side. Together, you fought off every single creature that even dared to try to attack your small group. It was rough, but it didn’t last forever. Eventually, the bats stopped mid-air, struck down by something none of you could see. They fell to the ground, creating a rainstorm of monster corpses. You pulled Dustin close to you, shielding both him and Eddie with a combination of your own body and one of the makeshift shields.

The moment the corpse rain ended, you dropped to your knees. A small cry escaped your lips, but your own pain was put out of your mind the second you saw Eddie’s face. You were slowly going into shock. Your hands shook. You felt sick.

“Eddie!” Dustin cried, kneeling at his friend’s side, “Eddie! Oh, god, Eddie-”

Red covered Eddie’s face, his neck, his stomach. He was losing blood fast, and from your place at his side, you couldn’t even take in all of his injuries. From the weak wet sounds he was making, you had to assume that there were worse wounds that you couldn’t even see. He struggled to move, to breathe, to live,

Dustin took Eddie into his arms, holding onto him as the older boy choked on his own blood. You felt helpless- of course you did, you were watching the person you loved most in the world die in the arms of a friend. Your heart was breaking in a million places, and you didn’t know what to do.

And then, you remembered. You were supposed to become a doctor.

“Bad, huh?” Eddie asked, his voice catching slightly.

“No! No, no, no, no, no, you’re gonna be fine, we just gotta get you to a hospital, okay?” Dustin tried to reassure both himself and his dying friend.

You, however, took a different tactic.

“Yeah, it’s fucking bad, Eds, you tried to take on a horde of monsters on your own,” your voice shook as you spoke, but you tried to ignore it. Turning yourself slightly, you gently took Eddie from Dustin’s arms, lying him flat on the ground so you could work.

“Dustin, I need you to go get my bag, I dropped it before we ran into the bats.”

“I- But- but I-” the kid stuttered, hesitant to leave Eddie when he was in this state. You understood completely, but right now, you needed him to act.

“It’ll be fine, kid, I’ll take care of him, just go get my bag,” your confidence was growing by the second, and Dustin could hear it in your voice.

With a final, “I’ll be right back, buddy, just hang on, okay?” Dustin ran off to get your bag for you.

And then, you and Eddie were alone.

You started peeling his jacket away from his bloodied skin, clearing space for you to examine and patch up his wounds. He was far from silent, groaning through gritted teeth as you worked over him.

When you looked at his face, though, he was smiling. Tears pooled in his eyes as he asked, “I didn’t run away this time, right?”

“No. No, no, no, baby, you didn’t run away. You ran straight into danger like a moron, but-” your voice cracked, “I’ll admit, it was brave. Real hero shit.”

With the blade of a nearby spear, you tore open his shirt. At another time, and in another place, you may have blushed at seeing his chest. Now, though, you had to hold in your gasp at the state of his body. He was torn up just about everywhere. Blood pooled in deep wounds, and for a second, you wondered if you could actually save him. You shook the doubt from your mind- it wouldn’t help anyone now. You needed to stay focused on one thing, and that one thing was saving Eddie.

“Well, here we are again,” he sighed, “The hero and the healer. Roll for initiative.”

You laughed, through your tears, frantically trying to blink them out of your eyes. Hearing Eddie, who was usually so loud and full of life, sound so quiet, so scared- it made you want to cling onto him and sob. You reminded yourself that you would have time for that later. For now, though, you had to-

“I love you, y’know? I want you to know that.”

That did it. You stifled a sob as you replied, “I know. I know, baby, I love you too-”

“And I love all your weird doctor shit. I-I know you’re gonna save so many people. And I know your handwriting’s gonna go to hell, so maybe take a class-”

“You’re gonna regret making fun of me, Munson,” you said through a mix of laughter and tears, “I swear to god. Now shut up and save your strength.”

“You always say that,” he whispered. His eyes closed for a moment, and although he was still breathing, it scared you out of your mind.

“DUSTIN!” you screamed, “HURRY IT UP, WILL YA?”

Just as you yelled for the kid, he ran into view, your bag slung over one of his shoulders.

“Hang on, baby, hang on,” you murmured to Eddie, clinging tightly to his hand, “I’m gonna help you, okay? I’m gonna help you.”

He simply hummed and continued to lie still until Dustin slid to a stop at his side, tossing your bag to you. You all but tore it open, extracting gauze, alcohol, sterile needles, and thread. As you got to work, Eddie turned to the kid.

“You’re gonna have to look after those little sheep for me, okay?”

“No, you’re gonna do that yourself,” Dustin was crying, now, and you would’ve joined him if you didn’t have a job to do.

“Nah, man-”

You cut Eddie off, handing a bit of gauze to the kid, “Dustin, take this and put pressure on his wounds, you need to put pressure on it, ok?”

The kid shakily took the bandages from you and held them to his friend’s side. A strangled noise came from Eddie’s throat. He thrashed slightly, trying to escape the pain, but that wasn’t really an option for him- especially not with you around.

“Stay put, Munson,” you pushed him back to the ground, continuing to clean and bandage his wounds at a rapid pace.

“They’re always so mean to me,” he joked, somehow finding the strength to smirk in Dustin’s direction. He continued, “Now, promise me you’re gonna look after them. After the sheep and after-”

“Shut up, and save your strength,” you hissed.

“Y-yeah,” Dustin stuttered, “Shut up, Eddie. Just stay with us, stay with us.”

Eddie sighed, finally shutting up for a second. His fingers tapped against your thigh gently. You could feel him staring up at you. He looked as if he were memorizing your face- as if he were taking you in for the last time.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you said as you prepared to stitch up the first of a few deeper wounds.

“Like what?”

“Like you’re never gonna see me again. You’re gonna make it through this, Eddie, I’m not going to let you die. Tell him, Dustin.”

“I- they aren’t gonna let you die. You’re gonna make it, you can do this.”

“You guys are too good to me,” Eddie blinked a little too slowly, scaring you once again.

“Yeah, you aren’t gonna think that in a minute,” you and Dustin shared a glance at the needle in your hand, “Hold onto him kid, make sure he doesn’t move.”

“Wait, what-?”

Dustin did as told, and before Eddie could ask any more questions, you took the needle to his skin. You didn’t think Eddie had enough energy in him to scream. He quickly proved you wrong.

The next few minutes were pure agony in a condensed form. Eddie’s fingers dug into your thigh as you stitched up his wounds. He screamed and thrashed at first, writhing in Dustin’s arms as the needle pierced his skin again and again. You honestly weren’t sure who you felt worse for; the wounded man, or the kid who had to restrain his friend or risk watching him die.

You almost didn’t notice when Eddie went quiet.

Almost.

“Eddie? Eddie, stay with me baby, I’m almost done-”

“Please,” he wasn’t talking to you. It was almost like he didn’t hear you at all. Instead, he turned to Dustin, “Say you’re gonna look after them. Just say it.”

“I’m-” Dustin started tearfully, trying desperately to keep his hands still, “I’m gonna look after them.”

“Good. ‘Cause I’m actually gonna graduate. I think it’s my year, Henderson,” he struggled to get the words out, “I think it’s finally my year.”

“Shit, shit, shit,” you murmured, feeling Eddie’s pulse slow beneath your fingertips, “Dustin-”

“I love you, man.”

Dustin hesitated for a moment, looking between you and Eddie. When he said, “I love you too,” it was through tears. He turned to you, next, tears streaming down his cheeks, “(Y/N), do something, please! Help him!”

“I will, I will-”

As you panicked, Eddie’s eyes unfocused. His pulse came to a stop. He was gone.

But you weren’t fucking having it.

“SHIT, SHIT, SHIT, SHIT, SHIT, SHIT, SHIT- okay, okay, hang on-”

Without wasting a second, you positioned your hands at the centre of Eddie’s chest. You moved so your shoulders were over your arm, and you locked your elbows before you began chest compressions. You pressed down over and over again, pushing two inches down every time. Tears ran down your face, but you couldn’t stop to wipe them away. You could feel his ribs cracking beneath your palms. You had to keep going.

Thirty compressions later, you moved his head into position and brought your lips to his, giving him two breaths before you resumed with compressions. You repeated the cycle once, twice, a third time. Your heart sank deeper with every second that passed. You felt as though you were losing your mind- as though the world was slowly slipping away from you. In a way, it was.

“Come on, Eddie, come on, come on! Please, god, don’t leave me,” you paused to give two breaths, “You’ve gotta stay, man! You can’t leave me, or Dustin, or your Hellfire nerds, come on!”

Dustin joined in on your desperate pleas, “Wh-what about your uncle? Come on, Eddie, don’t do this, please don’t do this!”

Your begging didn’t bring him back. At least, it probably didn’t. Maybe, somewhere in his mind, he could hear you and Dustin, and maybe it got him to run away from the light. Scientifically, though, it was probably the CPR that brought him back to you.

Honestly, in your mind and in Dustin’s, the “how” part of how Eddie got resurrected didn’t really matter. All that mattered was that he was alive. Not necessarily okay, but alive. The second he took a breath, both you and Dustin burst into tears.

Dustin clung to Eddie’s body, his own body racked with sobs. You tried to quell your own sobbing- you had to keep your hands steady to finish the stitches.

By the time you were done, the three of you were covered in tears and blood. You held onto them, clinging tightly to your boys as they held tightly to you. You were all drained, exhausted by the day’s events and emotions that still burned through your veins.

You weren’t sure what to say next. You could’ve said, “All done,” or “Eddie should be fine, now,” or even, “How about we get out of here?”

Instead, through tears, you said, “I fucking told you you’d regret making fun of me.”

Eddie was a little too shocked from his brief death to respond at that point. You took full advantage of that.

“You’re so fucking stupid, y’know? You ran right into danger, right into danger- I mean, what were you even trying to do? Buy more time? Be a hero!? You- you- yOU GOT YOURSELF KILLED, YOU FUCKING BASTARD. God, you’re so stupid, so fucking stupid, you fucking dick.”

By the end of your triad, you were full-on sobbing into Eddie’s chest. Your composure was gone now that your job was done. You were a wreck- a complete and utter mess of tears and blood. Under your breath, you repeated the words, “So stupid,” over and over again until you couldn’t anymore.

Your boys really didn’t know how to respond to that.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Dustin said, patting your shoulder in a somewhat awkward fashion, “Things will be alright now, okay? You saved him- you saved Eddie. You did such a good job, it’ll be okay, now.”

Eddie was quiet, which was fair enough. He was tired and traumatized. His throat was horse from screaming, and his ribs were badly cracked if not broken. He didn’t say much, but he did take one of your hands in his, gently squeezing it as a silent form of comfort. When you finally caught your breath, you squeezed back.

After that, you and Dustin had to discuss how, exactly, you were going to get Eddie back through the portal. Fortunately, you didn’t have to do it yourselves- Steve, Nancy, and Robin appeared in the distance just in time to avoid the absolute angst fest that had transpired over the last few minutes.

You supposed it was an odd sight for them to see- Eddie cradled in Dustin’s arms, and you practically cradled in Eddie’s, the three of you surrounded by dead bats and medical supplies, tear-stained and looking like absolute garbage. True, they’d witnessed stranger things, but it was still a pretty strange thing to see.

“What the hell happened to you guys?” Steve asked as he helped Dustin pull Eddie off the ground.

“Eddie decided to be cute and went all heroic on us,” you replied as Robin helped you off the ground, slinging one of your arms over her shoulders, “Then he died.”

“He WHAT?” Robin yelled, making you wince just a bit. Of course, it wasn’t really her fault, she just happened to be next to your ear.

“Hey, man, I told you not to be heroic,” Steve sounded so hurt- you could practically hear his puppy dog eyes through his voice, “No being cute, remember?”

“Yeahhh, I can’t really help that,” Eddie joked weakly, wincing as Dustin brushed against his ribs, “It’s just part of my charm.”

Steve didn’t argue that point.

“Hang on, I’m still processing the fact that Eddie died, how is he-?” Robin cut herself off to make some vague gestures with her free hand.

“I did CPR on the idiot. I swear to god, the second he gets out of the hospital, I’m going to kill him again.”

“Oh… ok.”

“Shit,” Nancy hissed somewhere behind you, “Eddie’s still being hunted, how are we going to get him help?”

“Let’s just focus on getting him out of here first, okay?” Steve asked, eyeing the trailer door cautiously.

“Actually, I kind of have a plan,” you raised a hand, “But I’m gonna need to borrow someone’s car.”

#x reader #eddie munson x reader #stranger things spoilers

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pocketninja-ffxiv · 3 months

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Wake up.

Why wasn't she waking up? Mom you need to wake up!

N'yami shook her mother's lifeless body she held in her arms, G'lewra wasn't responding to anything. The two were enjoying the fresh air outside while they waited for the group to return. Telling stories of how the Synch kids were growing up do fast.

All while doing this N'yami could feel the tug on her mothers aether increasing, Yami’s own aether battling with the dark entity that had latched on to the Scholar a couple moons ago. Even with how much she was battling to keep her mother's aether within her body it felt like Yami was grasping at smoke, and all she could do was watch as it slipped between her fingers.

And then it happened.

Without warning G'lewra collapsed, and N'yami had been quick enough to catch her mother before she hit the ground.

“No….nonononono! MOM!! They're comin’ back! Dad's comin’ back to help! He always does! DON'T YOU DARE LEAVE ME!!”

N’yami wasn't a healer, she didn't know how to fix this. She's just a damn blacksmith. Learning healing was pointless in her eyes because G’lewra was always around to patch her up. But now she was gone.

The Seeker's breathing picked up as she felt the swirls of emotions erupt from her dark aether, red aether flickered around her while her ruby gaze gave off an ominous glow. A blood curdling howl escaped her lungs as he shouted towards the sky as the emotions took over, the pulses of aether coming off the Dark Knight becoming stronger with each passing moment.

She needed help. Dad knew what to do with this sort of thing, Tynos wasn't a master of aetherical manipulation for nothing. N'yami fumbled with her linkpearl for a moment then let it spring to life.

"I NEED THE OLD MAN NOW!" N'yami's panicked voice shouted over the linkpearl. She wasn't able to steady her breathing, quick and hurried breaths as her body was heading into a panic attack. "She's gone!” And with a final attempt she tried calling to her mother again. “WAKE UP DAMNIT! MMMOOOOMMM!" Her breathing became more panicked as she tried to think of who else was there that could help. Aislinn. "LINN!" Crying out to the hyur like a younger sibling that needed protection.

With the last effort, N'yami clicked off the linkpearl as she cried over G'lewra's form, clutching to the lifeless body as if her mothers body would slip away from her just as the aether did.

“You know how to fix this.”

She tried to drown out the voice in her head, the voice that always came to life when it was a fight or flight situation. N'yami’s body didn't understand the meaning of flight, and so this voice always came around to encourage the Seeker to keep fighting. No matter what.

Looking up with tear stained cheeks N'yami saw an image of herself standing in front of her clad in armor that put the shadows to shame. Spikes jutting out in random directions, and the red aether made cracks along the armor to empower it.

“There's one right here, and she's the cause of all this, right? Actions have consequences.”

Xha.

A low growl rumbled through N'yami while her grip on G'lewra's body tightened while thinking about the ex cultist.

“They're allowing her to walk freely, and yet we still lost someone. She took mom away from us. It's her fault. You FOUGHT with everything to keep her here and NOW SHE'S GONE BECAUSE OF THESE CULTISTS! They don't get to live!!!”

The more the aether spoke to N'yami made the glow in her eyes brighter, with so much emotions you'd expect to see those feelings flooding her ruby orbs but they were hollow. So empty but yet so dangerous to look at. The look of a killer, and the voice in her head was winning. There was no one there to calm the Dark Knight. Usually she did so well to contain these emotions, use them to protect those she loves. But now one of them was gone, and she blamed herself for it.

“She needs to die…” Her voice barely above a whisper and sounding as though she had just gargled nails from all the screaming she had been doing.

“We can't lose more.”

“N'yami!”

Looking from the aetherical form the Seeker's attention slowly turned to the new voice, and there she saw Aislinn standing on the other side of the barrier the aetherical formed had put around them to talk.

All she could do was stare blankly at the Hyur before looking back to where her aetherical form once stood. It had vanished just within the few moments of looking away.

N'yami still held G'lewra close, but the barrier started to break into pieces, and it crumbled to the ground before mixing in with aether around her. She could hear Linn talking to her, trying to reach her, but it sounded so muffled. So far away. Her head lazily lulled to look back in Linn's direction but that's when she caught sight of Augusta carrying a limp Tynos back to the Heartwood estate, and she felt her world crumble all over again thinking that not only had she lost her mother but also the man that didn't hesitate to adopt her as his own. So lost in her own world crumbling around her N'yami didn't even notice how Riylli had stood in the background watching Linn talk the Dark Knight down.

“Alright, Yami, listen to me. I know what this looks like. Hells, I know what it feels like. Like the world’s stopped and the earth might as well open up and swallow you because you can’t see how there’s any way forward from here. Anything to stop this from being true.” Aislinn knew grief. Life had given her plenty of opportunities to get acquainted with it. She knew people liked to say it was something you got used to. Like jumping in a cold lake. But damn if it wasn’t a shock every time. “I understand but right now I need you to help me. We have to get her inside. Hey, Tynos’ll be alright. He just went and overdid it out there. But listen. You’ve gotta let me take a look at her. We don’t know for sure what’s happened and until we do we can’t give up on her. Right?”

N'yami tried to focus on Aislinn’s words, trying to hear them over the commotion happening within her mind.

“Ok…” she sounded so defeated but Yami knew she could trust Linn. She had become one of the Seeker's safe places. That rock a younger sibling needed.

Her arms were shaking as she let go of G'lewra so Aislinn could do what was needed. While the medic worked Yami kept out of the way but kept close, without thinking Yami's hand had reached out to hold onto Linn's coat tail. She needed grounding but also wanting to stay out of the way.

That aether.

Looking away from G'lewra and Aislinn for a second, N'yami saw the one she thought was responsible for all this. Xha stood in the yard staring at them, and all the Dark Knight did was stare the Keeper down with a murderous intent before she was pulled from her thoughts. G'lewra needed to be carried inside, and N'yami didn't hesitate to carry her mom inside for Aislinn.

“The hunt can wait, mother needs us.”

Heading inside the clinic, N'yami placed G'lewra on one of the beds closest to Tynos. God's. He looked like shit was the first thing that went through her mind.

She let the medics work, and stood out of the way but close enough to her parents to look after them. N'yami found herself mindlessly following Aislinn around the clinic like a duckling, clutching onto the other woman's coat when the Hyur was at a stand still. She felt so lost. Mind numb and not knowing what to do so she latched to the next family member.

“Oi. There you are, Yami!”

Her head peaked out from behind Aislinn, it paid to have a taller sibling it seems, and there stood her husband Neville. There in all his smiling glory.

“We're having a sleepover in the workshop, and I already got the kits set up. Better hurry before they take yer spot.” He was grinning the whole time while talking to her. N'yami wasn't sure how he was able to smile in such a situation or how he knew he was needed here. But before the Seeker left Linn’s side she pressed her forehead against the medics shoulder in a pathetic attempt of a headbutt, even with G'lewra gone N'yami remembered how her mother told her how Linn had issues with physical touch and to not overwhelm her with them. She wanted to show appreciation but still respect the boundaries.

Slowly making her way towards Neville she paused for a moment before looking back at Linn, and a few tears slid down her cheeks. Not only was Yami's mom gone but so was Linn's.

And N'yami blamed herself for not being able to keep their mom safe.

Here she was falling apart where Linn was probably going through the same thing. How selfish she was being.

Looking back to Neville for a moment she went to back to Linn for a moment. Her hand glowing a bright red, and when she opened her palm a flat stone almost resembling a ruby sat in the Seekers palm. But the aether that swirled within flickered between the colors of red, black, and purple. Almost mimicking a storm.

“For when yer….overwhelmed.” N'yami's gaze shifted around as she tried to explain it in her emotional state. “I can…feel the emotions. A way to vent to me…without words if they become too hard.”

Leaving the stone with Aislinn and returning to her husband's side she let him guide her to the workshop where her children greeted her. Falling into the pile of blankets and pillows N’yami gathered her children close to her, and of course her obsidian carbuncle Whackara that was a gift to her from her mother curled on top of her chest for pressure therapy. Neville had curled around his family to keep them close, he knew this was something N’yami needed. Thankful their wedding bands kept them connected aetherically.

It took N’yami awhile to fall asleep, everytime she closed her eyes all she could see was her mother falling before her.

“You need to sleep. A hunt awaits for us.” The voice returned to lull the Seeker to sleep. But the voice was right, and there was one thing that crossed N’yami’s thoughts before she finally let sleep take her.

Which target was first?

#ffxiv #balmung rp #ffxiv rp #ff14 #n'yami synch #aislinn north #tynos riller #G'lewra Riller #ffxiv dark knight #dark knight #Neville Synch #Riller Family #riylli aliapoh

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luisprada · 2 years

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My Writing Portfolio

I’ve written a lot of stuff for a lot of outlets. Here are my favorites; the ones that really show off what I’m capable of. I’ve added some context for a few of them. I’m looking for a full-time writing job. Does your video game need a writer? Hire me! Does your TV series writer’s room need a new writer? Hire me! Want to give me a book deal? Sign me up! Does your website need an editor/writer in a full-time salaried position? Hire me! You can DM me here, or find me on Twitter @Luis_Prada. My email is [email protected].

Cracked - I wrote for Cracked on and off for over 15 years. Eventually, I became a columnist and a member of the columns editorial team. I wrote hundreds of articles and wrote a few video scripts.

3 Recipes For The Perfect Last Minute Mother's Day Brunch - Don’t let the title mislead you. This was the first time Cracked let me write an article that was pure fiction disguised as a helpful, fact-based recipe article. If you like this, I have a whole podcast that’s basically this article in audio form. Links at the bottom of this post!

10 Very Dumb Questions You Should Answer Right Now - This is part 1 of a survey of the Cracked readership. Part two, below, is where it gets fun. Posting this one for full context.

10 Dumb Questions I Asked You Guys (And Your Dumb Answers) -- And here’s Part 2! Never got to do this survey again for another column but of everything I’ve ever written, it’s one of the ones I’m most proud of. Amazon Thinks I'm Some Sort Of Serial Killer In Training

This Article Will Explode In 5 Points

The Hoax You Didn't Realize Dominated The 80s - The Cracked article I’m most proud of.

The Most Weirdly Specific, Lazy Spam Email I Ever Received How I Tried (And Failed) To Stop Snoring With A Didgeridoo Why Don't We Have Flying Cars Yet? Well, Here's The Thing...

4 Spam Emails That Deserve To Be Movies

I Ate At The World's Best Sushi Restaurant

4 Ways I Realize I've Changed (Thanks To The New Zelda Game)

The 6 Most Useless Features Found in Flashlight Apps

5 Creepy Things People Say About Sex When Granted Anonymity

4 Recipes That Came From The Mind Of A Child (Taste Tested)

4 Things That Shock You About Dogs (If You Never Had One)

4 Creepy Unspoken Agreements We All Make With Public Places 4 Terrible Golf Tips For Beginners (By a Beginner)

Drones: The Movie Pixar Doesn't have the Balls to Make - The first time I was ever allowed to break the traditional listicle mold. Still can’t believe they let me do this.

5 Random Questions You Didn't Know You Wanted Answered

5 Newspaper Articles From History You'll Swear I'm Making Up

Taco Bell's Website Is Absolutely Insane (No, Seriously) Papa John’s TikTok Has Intense Divorced Dad Energy

Bunny Ears - The site, which was owned and operated by actor Macaulay Culkin, gave me the chance to do something I’d wanted to do for years: get paid to write the silliest stuff I could imagine. The site was a satire of celebrity lifestyle sites like Goop but started sprinkling in some broader pop-cultural stuff toward the end.

6 Bathrobes Perfect For Doing Coked-Up Naked Karate

I’ve Been Holding In A Tantric Orgasm For 22 Years. Please Don’t Touch Me

My Secret Ingredient Is Love, Which Has Been Recalled Due To Fecal Contamination

For The Last Time, I’m An Electrician, Not An Energy Healer

3 School Lunches Your Child’s Bully Will Love

We Just Tried Western Medicine, And Holy Shit Is It Effective!

I Traveled The World And Didn’t Learn A Fucking Thing About Myself Lavish Vacation Spots To Visit When You’re On The Run From The Securities and Exchange Commission

I’m An Introvert And I Need Every Person On Earth To Know It These 5 Posh Hotels Have One Thing in Common: You’re Banned from Them

Our Article Ideas Algorithm Says You Should Marinate Chicken In Piss

I Climbed Everest And Still Can’t Maintain An Erection

Funko Pop! Used My Likeness Without My Consent A Good Night’s Sleep Made Me A Much More Efficient Asshole My Restaurant Will Proudly Fuck Up Your Culture’s Signature Dish I’m Trying Really Hard To Not Turn Your Vitamin D Deficiency Into A Dick Joke

I’m Totally Okay Being Trapped Under This Weighted Blanket Reminder: Don’t Fuck Up This Turkey, Because You Can Really Use A Win Right Now

Marvelous Meat: This Plant-Based Burger Not Only Bleeds, It Screams

We Can’t Get Enough Of These 5 Celebrity-Recommended Tax Havens

Grounding: Connecting To The Natural Energies of Your Home By Sticking Metal Rods In Power Outlets

McSweeney’s Internet Tendency

Click “No” If You’d Like Us To Guilt Trip You For Not Subscribing To Our Newsletter

The Inaudible Podcast Network - My time at Bunny Ears led to the development of a short recurring segment on the official Bunny Ears podcast called “Meditation Minute with Luis Prada”, a parody of guided meditation podcasts and Youtube channels. When Bunny Ears closed down, I was able to keep Meditation Minute. I spun it into my own podcast. The Inaudible Podcast Network is an audio sketch comedy series about four podcasts on a fake podcast network. Those shows are Meditation Minute, Truest Crime (a true crime podcast hosted by two serial killers), The Feed (a food culture podcast), and Three Indistinguishable Guys Talking About Movies (a movie podcast). I’ve completed two seasons so far, totaling 80 episodes, 20 of each podcast. Here are direct links to my favorite episodes so far. But first, here’s a link to the Patreon!

https://www.patreon.com/InaudiblePod

I can use the money! Season two just ended. I’m writing season three now. Anyway, onto the links...

TRAILER/Ep. 1 - Meditation Minute - Midroll Meditation

Ep. 2 - The Feed - Fleeing Flavortown

Ep. 4 - Three Indistinguishable Guys Talking About Movies - Review: The Family Circus Movie

Ep. 5 - Meditation Minute - Building a Happy Place

Ep. 28 - Truest Crime - Where Are They Now?

Ep. 33 - Meditation Minute - Breakout

Ep. 41 - Meditation Minute With Luis Prada - A Meditation for Those In A Rush

Ep. 42 - The Feed - The Indiana Sausage Wars

Ep. 47 - Three Indistinguishable Guys Talking About Movies - I See Myself In Luke Skywalker Despite HisGross Alien Genitals

Ep. 48 - Truest Crime - Riddles For Pestering The Cops

Ep. 58 - The Feed - Apologies To Canned Ham

Ep. 62 - The Feed - The Fight To Save Bees

Ep. 69 - Meditation Minute With Luis Prada - Corrections and Retractions

Ep. 78 - The Feed - Our Fascinating World of High-End Cheeses

Ep. 80 - Truest Crime - Most Truest Crime with Host FBI Agent Antonio Rodriguez

#portfoilo #cracked.com #bunnyears #mcsweeneys #Inaudible podcast network #podcast

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sjsmith56 · 8 months

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Finding Jade - Chapter 1. Bleeding Daylight

Summary: A woman is found in the badlands of New Mexico and brought to the bunker of the Avengers. Unconscious and almost dead Bruce Banner treats her injuries with the help of Bucky Barnes, both of them wondering how she managed to survive in the wilderness where the Others, an alien species, are known to live.

Length: 2.5K

Characters: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers, Peter Parker, Bruce Banner, OFC (unnamed in this chapter).

Warnings: Anti-social and angry Bucky, Bucky still in mourning after death of his wife and child, near death experience, despair.

Author’s notes: This story was inspired by a series of photo edits done by Instagram artist nixakimbo, depicting Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes and Peter Parker in an apocalyptic wasteland.

👽

The woman was almost finished. It had been three days, maybe more, maybe less, since she left her mother and son in the Sanctuary to find help. The Others had seen her, not near the Sanctuary fortunately, but they had still seen her. They tracked her into the Badlands. She knew the ground well, having hidden there as a kid before Ma found her and took her in.

"Ma," she tried to say through her cracked lips. "I'm sorry Ma, I died here. No one's coming."

If she had any moisture left in her eyes she would be crying now but her eyes were dry, red and crusted with the dirt from her hands whenever she rubbed her face. She tripped and the fall to the ground was agony as she tried to protect the wound on her side, the wound the Others had given her, the wound she was dying from. She looked at her hand which had been over the wound. It was bloody meaning the wound had opened again. The wound the doctor whose name she had already forgotten had closed.

"Fuck," she gasped.

Slowly, she placed her hands below her and lifted herself to one knee, then upright, screaming as she did it. Giving up wasn't an option, not yet, not when Ma and Ben were waiting for her to return to the Sanctuary. Even though she knew she was dying she wouldn't give up, not until she couldn't get up anymore. Five steps later she tripped again and this time she stayed down. She lay there, dying, waiting for the darkness to take her when she felt someone turn her over. Man, woman, she didn't know but they pulled her jacket open and pulled her shirt up then swore at what they saw. It was a man's voice and she tried to open her eyes but there was no lubrication left for the eyelids to open.

"Help," she said, except it came out "Heh", if it came out at all.

She felt arms lifting her up and movement as she was carried to a vehicle and laid in the back seat. They had a car. How could they have a car when there was no gas? But she heard the engine start up and even though the man, it was a man she heard, although she had already forgotten the voice, drove carefully each bump made her cry out from the pain in the wound the Others had given her.

"Hold on," said the man, yes, it was a man, "I'll get you to a doctor."

Doctor? Were there still such things? There had to be because she had seen one, in the desert when she was dying. Ma had told her about doctors, healers, angels of mercy, madmen, killers, responsible for death. It became harder to breathe and she knew this was it, death was in the car, sitting on the top of the back seat, looking down at her, rubbing its hands in anticipation. Death had found her and it was bleeding daylight away from her and replacing it with the darkness. She almost welcomed it because the pain would stop. She had no regrets. No, that wasn't true, there was a regret. That she couldn't say goodbye to Ma and Ben. I'm sorry, she said but there was no sound from her lips as it was all in her mind now. That's all that was left, her mind and that one regret. Then the darkness came.

Nothing worth having comes without some kind of fight

Lovers in a Dangerous Time by Bruce Cockburn

"Jesus, Steve," said the doctor. "Where the hell did you find her? She's more dead than alive."

Dr. Bruce Banner looked at the almost dead woman on the gurney. Steve Rogers had carried her in from his vehicle yelling at Bruce for help. He stood back as Bruce started checking her out.

"She came out of the Badlands," said Steve. "I heard her screaming. She had raised herself from where she fell. Buddy alerted me. Can you save her?"

"I'll do my best but she's severely dehydrated, in shock, and the wound...," Banner shook his head. "It's from a weapon of the Others. They did this to her. I don't know how long the poison has been in her system but it looks bad."

Steve stepped back as there was nothing more that he could do. Finding her out in the middle of nowhere was a miracle. He felt a cold nose nuzzle his hand and looked down at his dog, Buddy. It was him that alerted Steve to the presence of the woman. He wouldn't have seen her on his own as her clothes were so dusty and dirty she blended into the landscape. But Buddy knew something was out there and had whined, then given a single bark when he saw and heard the woman get up from the ground, walk five steps and fall again.

"It's okay, boy," he said, scratching behind the dog's ear. "Let Bruce work."

He turned around and the dog of unknown parentage followed at his heel, devoted to his master. Leaving the medical room Steve walked down the long hallway to the common room. Bucky was making a pot of coffee, artificially flavoured coffee but it was what they had.

"She lived long enough to get to Bruce," he said, not turning his head. "She might have a chance."

"The wound is definitely from an Others weapon," said Steve. "We're going to have to find out where she came from and go after them."

Bucky stopped and looked at the wall before turning to his friend. "It's a losing battle, Steve," he said. "We get rid of one nest and two more nests pop up. It's HYDRA all over again.

"Well, we beat them," he said, in exasperation. "I can't...I can't turn my back on people, Bucky. Being an Avenger still means something to me, even if you've given up."

Bucky had been holding an empty coffee cup but at the insinuation he had given up he squeezed the cup until it shattered, sending porcelain shards all over the kitchen counter. He swore and used the dish cloth to wipe up as much as he could, dropping the pieces into the garbage container. Then he poured himself a coffee using someone else's mug.

"I haven't given up," he said trying to sound objective as he faced the coffee pot. "I'm just more realistic than you. We can't save them all. There's too many of them and not enough of us."

Bucky felt a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry," said Steve. "That was a low blow. I know you still care, that you haven't given up. Since Lily died you haven't been the same."

"I'm over it," said Bucky, unconvincingly. "I just wish the baby had lived so I still had something of her."

Steve patted Bucky again. "She was a good woman," he said. "We all miss her."

They were interrupted by the arrival of Peter Parker. He was in jeans and a T-shirt and opened the door to the cupboard looking for something.

"Either of you seen my Einstein coffee mug?" he asked. "It was here an hour ago."

Bucky looked at the garbage can and didn't say anything. Neither did Steve. Peter gave up looking and grabbed one of the spare ones pouring himself a cup. He plopped down on the couch and looked at the two.

"So, what's up?" he asked cheerfully.

"Found a woman on the edge of the Badlands," said Steve. "She had an Other's wound. I think we need to have a mission to locate the nest."

"Cool, I'm in," said the 20 year old. "Is she still alive?"

"Bruce is treating her," said Bucky. "But she was hurt quite bad."

Slowly, other members of the Avengers drifted in having smelled the ersatz coffee scent as it made its way to the residence section. As more of them came in the noise level went up. People started gossiping, laughing and telling jokes. Bucky looked at Steve and smiled grimly.

"There's my cue to leave," he said. "See you later."

Steve watched his friend walk down the long hallway. Bucky was still very introverted even three years after the Snap ended. He had close relationships with a few people but he didn't like being in a crowd. Lily, his late wife, had helped him fit in better but since her death he had closed himself off a little more. Steve heard someone call his name and he turned to the conversation.

In the long hallway, Bucky sipped his coffee and walked to the medical room door. He could see through the window that Bruce was looking frustrated and stuck his head in the door.

"Do you need help, Bruce?" he asked.

"Yeah, just wash your hands well first," he said.

Bucky pulled his bandanna out of his pocket and tied it around his head to keep his hair out of the way. Leaving his coffee on the counter he stepped close to Bruce and looked at the woman. She was still dirty, covered in blood and dust.

"Could you undress her and clean her up?" asked Bruce. "I've got my hands full with this wound but I can't see if she is injured anywhere else. Just fill a basin full of warm water, put some of the disinfecting soap in it and swish around a face cloth in it. Start at her abdomen and work up."

It wasn't what Bucky was expecting but he had offered. Her jacket was intact so he carefully extracted her arms out of it and put it on a chair. Then he scrubbed his hands, prepared the basin, and determined where to start. Her tank top was already torn apart from the weapon that caused the wound so he got a pair of scissors out and cut it away. She wasn't wearing a bra. Wetting the face cloth he gently cleaned her abdomen near where Bruce was working on her wound. Grimacing he cleaned her breasts then her shoulders and neck, noting her sunburnt tan line followed the tank top. Then he cleaned her arms. So far there didn't seem to be any more wounds. The water in the basin was filthy so he poured it into the grey water reclamation unit and filled it up again. Using a clean facecloth he cleaned her face, especially her eye lids which were crusted over. He was struck at how delicate she seemed, and young. Her face was unlined, very fair, and her pale eyebrows made her seem even fairer. She was maybe in her early-20s. It was hard to tell for him. He had thought Lily was younger than 20 when they met and hadn't even thought of becoming involved with her. When he found out she was 32 he was blown away. He preferred an older woman as they had more life experience and less expectations of the perfect man. Shaking himself out of his reverie he emptied the second basin and started a third one.

"Bruce, do you want her back cleaned?" Bucky asked.

"I haven't even looked at her back yet," he replied. "Hold on, I'm going to put a dressing on the wound then we can both turn her. She's going to need a top to wear. There are some scrubs in the cupboard over there. I'm sure there's a top that will fit her."

Both men gently turned her over and Bucky started cleaning her back as Bruce went to get a top for her. As Bucky washed her back a tattoo appeared between her shoulder blades. It was only visible when it was wet, once it dried it lost its colouration and was invisible.

"Bruce, have you seen this before?" asked Bucky, showing Bruce what he had discovered.

The doctor whistled. "She's a unicorn," he said. "Not literally. She's associated with a religious sect, Children of Adam, but they haven't really been around since before the Millennium. Based on her hairstyle and clothing I would say she's not a member anymore but the tattoo is usually applied when they are children. Don't say anything to the others. They were connected with some doomsday groups at one point. Until we can talk to her I don't want to make assumptions."

Bucky nodded and finished cleaning her back. He asked Bruce for a comb and combed the dirt and debris out of her pale blonde hair before gently washing it, leaving the basin on the floor to catch the water he carefully poured to rinse it. Then he dried it with a towel and combed it through again. Bruce helped to sit her upright and they pulled the scrub top over her head. He handled one arm while Bruce handled the other. Bruce noticed her jeans were filthy and pulled a pair of scrub pants out of the cupboard. Together they removed her pants and pulled on the scrub bottoms. Satisfied Bruce patted Bucky on the arm.

"You're a good nurse, thank you," he said, smiling.

Bucky nodded and poured the dirty water into the reclamation unit. Then he used a disinfectant wipe to clean the basin before putting it under the UV cleaning light. The towels and face cloths went in the disinfecting laundry bag. He went to his coffee mug and drank it, making a face because it was now cold. Looking at the clock he was surprised to see he had taken almost half an hour to clean the woman. He looked back at her and realized he hadn't cleaned her hands. Putting the coffee down he got another basin, filled it up with soapy water and cleaned her hands, even using the edge of a dull scalpel to clean the dirt out of her fingernails. She wore a plain gold band on her left ring finger. Married...interesting. Bruce noticed Bucky looking at the ring.

"She's had a child as well," he said. "Stretch marks, very faded. You probably didn't notice but I did. I wonder where it is."

"Bruce, let me know when she wakes up," said Bucky. "I'd like to be here when we ask her what she was doing in the Badlands."

He cleaned the basin and left it in the UV cleaner. Waving goodbye at Bruce he made his way back to the common room to microwave his coffee. It wasn't as crowded in the room now so he sat next to Steve.

"I just helped Bruce clean the woman up," he said. "She's wearing a wedding band and Bruce thinks she's had a child. Someone might be missing her so I guess you're right, we should investigate. I'm in."

Steve nodded smiling. Bucky sometimes took time to warm up to an idea but once he did he was all in. He had already formed a squad of himself, Peter, Clint, Maria and Sam. Once the woman woke up and they talked to her they would head out to the Badlands. He asked Bucky to check the ammunition stocks, knowing that he likely already knew what state they were in. But it would give him something to do while they waited for the woman to come around.

Chapter 2>>

Series Masterlist

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#bucky barnes #steve rogers #marvel avengers #apocalyptic fiction #alien invasion #bucky barnes fanfiction

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