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zwedexx · 2 months

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AWFC x English-Italian Reader - Chapter 2

Summary: Reader is dealing with the effects of their concussion

TW: concussion, alcohol, maybe depression

WC: 1232

A/N: Sorry for taking ages, i was productive today so here is chapter 2. Do i hate it.. kinda. also to make it clear, the reader takes more medication than needed because they forgot they were taking them due to memory loss. also if you wanna chat abt anything i've written, my asks are always open. Also not proof read

It has only gone downhill since your conversation with Leah. You were only able to talk to her because the effects of the medications they had used to stabilize you hadn’t fully worn off yet. But once they did, the doctors refused to give you more. You weren’t new to concussions, and you knew that they weren’t going to give you anything because they needed to monitor your symptoms, but the pain had never been this bad. The smallest amount of light or sound would make it feel as though you were being stabbed right through your frontal lobe.

Your teammates tried to help by being there for you, but they were doing everything but helping. They would always seem to make your pain worse, and you hated it. There was a big part of you there that wanted your chosen family to be there right by your side, to make you feel better like they had last year when you got COVID. But you couldn’t take them right now. It hurt you too much to tell them to their face, so you had the nurses and medical staff prevent them from visiting you.

The only good thing to come from your self-imposed isolation was that none of them knew of your diagnosis.

“I don’t want you to get too alarmed, but based on your current symptoms and seizure, it’s looking ever more likely that it will be too dangerous to continue playing football.” The doctor had informed you once that you were able to communicate without being in total agony.

You stayed silent; you did know what to say.

“It's not a definite conclusion, but we have to consider the severity of your symptoms and the potential risks involved,” the doctor continued. “We will monitor your condition closely, but I want you to understand that there's a real possibility that returning to the game could pose serious health risks, both in the short and long term.”

You stayed silent, absorbing the weight of the doctor's words.

The doctor's words felt like an assault on your very existence. Football wasn't just a game; it was your lifeblood, the essence of who you were. It was the only thing keeping you going at times.

Only a few days before Christmas were you discharged from the hospital. All the older teammates offered you a place to stay. Viv and Beth were the first.

"Look, I know you might not want to burden anyone, but we're a team. We look out for each other," Beth said, concern etched on her face as she walked beside you.

“Our guest room is always open to you." Viv continued

Leah had offered the same. And you gave them all the same bullshit story.

“Guys, I’ll be fine. My parents are coming to take care of me. They’ll be here tomorrow. Go enjoy your holidays.”

“If you ever need anything, don’t be afraid to ask. We’re all here for you if you need us.” Kim said.

Part of you really wanted their help. Part of you wished they would force you to stay at their houses. But the part that was against it was stronger.

When you finally got home, there was no one waiting for you. You sort of chuckled to yourself. Your parents were never going to come take care of you, but your teammates didn’t know that. Your parents weren’t bad people, but you hadn’t left it off on the best of terms. It all started when you were young, you hung out with the ‘wrong kind of people’, you got into a lot of trouble, and you did bad things. As young as 13, you would go out late at night with your friends and sneak into abandoned buildings or construction sites to drink and smoke. In your mind, these were the nights of your life. Your parents were quite absent from your life; they were far more interested in their businesses and enterprises, and those people took an interest in you. They wanted you around; they could make you feel like you belonged.

It took you being arrested for being drunk, disorderly, and almost OD’ing for them to figure out you’d been sneaking out for over a year. That was the first time you’d really disappointed them.

Only a few months later, you’d disappoint them again after you had taken up drinking again, this time with a new group of people. That’s when they started to realize that you might be the problem.

The final nail in the coffin came when you decided to sign with Arsenal. Your parents couldn’t understand why you’d ever do such a thing. They only saw it as another stupid mistake to add to your long list. They could have stopped you, but at that point, they didn’t care anymore. Only a week after you’d signed, they’d fully moved to Milan.

The first few days at home were fine; at least that’s what you thought. You were on track, you took your medications every day, and you didn’t put too much strain on yourself. You ate healthy and went on walks. You were ready to do anything to get back to the sport you loved. Anything.

It was the day before Christmas Eve when you realized your 10-day supply of medications was almost done. You couldn’t believe it; you had taken the correct amount every day, or at least that’s what you remembered.

You thought you could do it. You thought you could make it through the holidays without medication, but you were wrong—so very wrong. The days stretched out in a seemingly never-ending cycle of pain. The relentless headaches intensified, and you weren’t able to cope with the unmedicated effects of a concussion this severe.

You tried to reach out to the pharmacy, hoping for an early refill or something to manage your symptoms, but the holidays meant it was closed. You debated calling your teammates, even getting as close as dialing Beth’s number, but as the phone rang, you second-guessed your decision. What would you say? How were you going to tell them you had lied to them and, due to your stupidity, had put yourself in another predicament.

It wasn’t long after you made that call that the isolation and pain became far too much. Over the past few days, thoughts of turning to an old friend returned.

You were Italian; by nature, there was always a bottle of something in your house; it had never tempted you until now. Football was always there, replacing it in a way nothing had ever done for you. But that solace has been taken from you now. The promise of a temporary escape from all the pain was undeniable.

You hesitated, holding the bottle in your hand. You uncapped the bottle, and the scent of grappa, your common poison of choice, wafted through the air. You took a sip, surrendering to the pain.

The first sip was sharp, with the burn racing down your throat and the warmth quickly spreading through your chest. The level in the bottle dropped steadily, and with it, the pain was momentarily forgotten. With each passing moment, the effect intensified.

It wasn’t long before you were free. You felt nothing and were worried about nothing. You knew you could be putting both your concussion and alcohol recovery in danger, but you didn’t care anymore.

#woso #women's football #woso x reader #arsenal wfc #arsenal women #women's soccer #woso fanfics #beth mead #leah williamson #vivianne miedema #katie mccabe #kim little

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eluxcastar · 4 months

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idk if we're meant to req this way but Pantalone Dottore and Capitano (separate) with #6?? please we're starving out here ri

Opening up to their s/o

── ୨୧：pantalone, il dottore, il capitano x reader (separate)

୨୧﹑synopsis :: more of this prompt more comfort drabbles spins

୨୧﹑genre :: fluff but I would maybe not call it straight fluff

୨୧﹑content :: gn reader, literally none of these people effectively communicate, kinda vague on purpose

୨୧﹑words :: 1.3k

Opening up for the first time.

is nobody feeding you?? I mean I know I've been slow but anon honey are you ok 😭

sorry this has taken so long as I said medical issues I swear I'm back to not starve you I've been thinking of this since I received it actually because you said you're starving. to everyone else, I'm getting off my ass

prompt list

── ୨୧：pantalone

Pantalone is not typically emotional. He is prone to fronts and lies, and he is not enthusiastic about the idea of sharing his feelings with you. It's not in his nature to be emotional, though Pantalone feigns such things and uses it to hide things from you. Playful with you each time you question him, he'll evade it and convince you, to his satisfaction, that everything is fine.

You hardly believe him, as is the case with many of the things he says. His well-crafted exterior hardly masks his stress once caught off guard, crushed under the pressure of maintaining the image of a well-groomed and high-class businessman.

The people he associates with disgust him, as do their actions and worldviews. They were raised in a world of glamour and decadence where he's belittled, new money in a sea of people living off of old money. It never seems to get to Pantalone until it does; the outbursts of anger are what follow. It's fine, he always says. He just needed a moment.

But nothing will ever be enough, he realises, your arms so inviting as you stand by the chair at his desk, running your hands through his hair, only a month after you made it official you were dating. Pantalone's poker face was pretty while it lasted, but his messier sides were always lurking just around the corner. To hold his head in your arms and console him through his pent-up anger is therapeutic to him, a labour of love for you.

His composure is fragile at times as he dances on the occasionally very thin line between put together and on the verge of smashing his wine glass in frustration right in front of an acquaintance. It's certainly not pretty, and he makes his fingers hurt at times from how hard he fights to refrain from doing it, but it keeps the very thing he works so hard for—his reputation.

Pantalone got so far, but it still amounts to nothing, even when he's the wealthiest man in the world. Nothing matters in the face of a reputation lingering, a poor man pretending to be rich, new money already too big for his britches. You don't care about his reputation, and you're not caught up in appearances. He likes that.

He likes how you laugh as you tell him that's junk, rich people crap, aristocratic bullshit. It feels comforting, like home to laugh his problems off as the pettiness of others. It's nice to let go of such a serious outlook.

── ୨୧：il dottore

Dottore's idea of sharing with you very much involves deflecting, avoiding and dancing around the many problems in his life, not eager to rely on a person when he could solve the issue himself. If you never need to know, you never start worrying and never dwell on it. He never has to face the problem properly.

For small things, that doesn't seem so strange. Dottore can quickly move on without them bothering him too much because that's the natural way of dealing with minor inconveniences, short of being ironically dramatic. Something goes wrong, and he can solve it within fifteen minutes. It's like water off a duck's back. Other times, Dottore will wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, and his greatest worry is how to make sure he doesn't wake you up as he slips out of bed.

No matter how often you tell Dottore to tell you what's wrong, he tries to assure you it's nothing, insignificant or a temporary setback. It's not that, as evidenced by his troubled face. It doesn't shake his lies. He'll run off and try to fix it all himself just as he always has, previously stemming entirely from the fact he had to, now purely by habit. If it ain't broke, don't fix it (it's broke).

So to hear him open up is…strange, though you are used to long-winded rambles reminiscent of a raving madman. He talks quickly sometimes and expects you to follow to the best of your abilities. Whether you can or not is another question. It is different, tired and spent from a day of hard work, hands raking through his messy blue hair as words fall from his lips as quickly as they enter his mind, barely coherent sentences of every inconvenience big and small he faced.

In a way, he hopes it's so hurried and jumbled you'll hardly catch half of it, though you sit by his side and debate between rubbing his back and not startling him with the sudden touch. It feels like the release of every little thing he bottled up overflows, and he doesn't want to speak once he settles, quiet. He looks at you with such exhaustion in his eyes, and you touch your hands to his face with as much caution as you can muster. He lets out a sigh the closest filled with the closest to relief he can get.

It is not perfect; he is an imperfect man. But it is his first step, and he can be nurtured.

── ୨୧：il capitano

Capitano doesn't intentionally hide things at a glance. He's usually very open with what he says, but some things slip his mind, and he's hardly keen on speaking from an emotional standpoint. Everything is objective, a piece of news and not a conversation about what happened. Someone fell down a ravine. What happened? They died. And his reaction? It happens all the time.

Objectively, that measure is correct, but it ignores the fact that people are people. He never wants to acknowledge being part of something because Capitano can tell you things without needing to. You notice it but avoid bringing it up, wondering maybe if that's just how he copes with it all. The years of death and bloodshed will weigh down on him, but if he doesn't bring it up to you, he'll have a reprieve to retreat to.

It's not good enough, but people never are. Everyone has their vice, and perhaps Capitano's vice is separating himself from who he is in battle once he returns home.

He never had a single point at which everything came crashing down, and the world felt bleak, but a series of small moments where Capitano let it slip that he mourned each loss with unimaginable care. Capitano remembers their names and keeps items to memorialise them. Somehow, that's not unthinkable with the way he keeps his regiment running like a well-oiled machine, every person there to better it in some way. He picked those people by hand.

Capitano paces when he thinks. He paces more than usual around the room in circles on a particularly rough night. He suffered a great setback, as it was put. You try everything you can think of to get through to him, from asking him to talk to you to telling him to sit down. He insists on just being preoccupied.

Coincidentally, that gets you the furthest as he tries to push you away with excuses.

He's preoccupied. Why? He had a difficult mission. What happened? People died. And? And what? There shouldn't be more, yet it unravels, the loose thread of his stoic composure suddenly coming apart. He knew them by name; it hurt to lose them, and he wishes to personally deliver their belongings to their families as soon as possible. That's it. That's enough for him to curl up on the couch and quietly accept that you finally got him to say something and that it was pleasant to have it be less of a burden to carry such things.

#♡ — anon visit.#�� — headcanons.#pantalone #pantalone x reader #dottore #il dottore #dottore x reader #il dottore x reader #capitano #il capitano #capitano x reader #il capitano x reader

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neurodivergentbraingoblins · 7 months

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This post is a shout out to all my chronically ill friends ❤️

"If you are in that much pain just go to the emergency room" 🤣🤣🤣 no, just no. The ER does not do what most people think it does. It exists for people who need to be stitched up or suddenly broke a bone. They do NOTHING for pain management and actually will verbally harass patients for going in and wasting their time. I know. I've been one of those patients harassed by the people who are supposed to help me.

"They gave you a referral to a specialist right? Are they going to see you next week then?" - it took 3 months for me to get an appointment with Neurology after getting the referral. Genetics took 2 months, cardiology was a month, and I'm still waiting to hear back from St. Louis about seeing a neurologist there (that referral was put in on August 9th). It takes months to get in to see these doctors, then they spend about 5 minutes (10 if you're lucky!) talking OVER you. Every visit is a fight against the doctors ego to see if you will actually get help this time.

"Maybe you should go to Mayo Clinic or some other place out of state!" - cool, who is going to take me? Who is going to take a few weeks out of their own life to drive me there and stay with me while the doctors do their thing? I can't see so I can't drive myself. I haven't worked since July because of being sick, so I can't afford a ride or place to stay.

"Can't you go a couple days without medication? I know the pharmacy ran out, but it really can't be that big of a deal right?" - I don't even know how to respond to this one. Seriously? The doctor put me on the meds for a reason. Most of them have serious and dangerous side effects when you go through withdrawal. Also depending on how long I'm without them, I have to start back at a lower dose and work back up to the dose I was originally on. Which means TWO prescriptions that I now have to pay for.

"Do you really need to bring your walker/cane with? It's annoying to try and get it in and out of the vehicle. Plus it just slows us down" - do you really need your legs with? It's annoying having to wait for you to put your shoes on. Plus when you wear those specific shoes you walk weird. If you can't stand someone using a mobility aid to help them get around then go find a new group of friends to do things with. I have just as much of a right to be able to go out and enjoy things as anyone else.

There are plenty more things I could add to this post but I'm exhausted.

#disability #disabled #physical disability #physically disabled #genetic disorders #rare disorder #chronic disability #chronicpain #chronically ill #chronic illness #chronic pain #actually chronically ill

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ghostboneswrites2 · 2 months

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Under the Stars || One Shot

New account! @ghostbones was banned! Transferring all my work here slowly!

Anon request from my old blog: "can i ask a tinnyyy request like you know s7 e8 daryl runs off from negans with jesus to hilltop later ricks group comes. How about reader and daryl reuniting after them not seeing eachother since negan takes him hostage and like all the time they spent away from each other in pain they try to make up for it"

Summary: Your mental health severely declined when Daryl was taken, but now he's back, and it's time to begin to heal together.

18+ MDNI || WARNINGS: depression, prescription medication, general unhappiness, but a happy ending (oh, and profanity, duh)

You had barely taken care of yourself over these last weeks. Minimal food intake, drinking water only when your body painfully begged for hydration, unable to get out of bed to even bathe on most days as the painful sinking in your gut was just too much. You felt dizzy sometimes, either from malnourishment or grief. Two of your friends were murdered in cold blood, horrifically. You still remembered how it felt when Abraham's blood splattered over your face, warm in contrast to the chill of the air around you. You could remember the way your breath made foggy little clouds in the bright lights, how you felt every ounce of air leave your lungs when Glenn was taken out next.

That man -- that monster -- he took more than just your friends. He took your sanity. You didn't sleep because when you closed your eyes it was all you could see. You hummed to yourself for hours because in the silence, you could still hear the whistle of the bat as it was brought down on your family members and the squelching of mangled skulls as he turned them into mere pulp.

With all that, the thing that stung even more was the memory of him being dragged away, your best friend, your love. The toughest and strongest man you knew, the one with a dirty abrasive exterior and a sparkling core of gold. They took him away, just like that. You knew he was alive. They brought him once, just to flaunt him in your face and remind you of what they had taken from you. To show you just how miserable they were making him.

On this day, though, Rick and the others had dragged you out of bed. Michonne sat with you while you showered, and washed your hair for you while you sat curled up under the steamy stream of water. She helped you get dressed, and told you they were taking you with them to Hilltop to see Harlan, their doctor. He would be able to give you a mild antidepressant, and something to help you sleep again. They had other business at the colony, but they decided you'd benefit from tagging along.

You were reluctant, of course. Why did you deserve peace and rest if nobody you loved could attain the same? But, they insisted, and who were you to argue when they already had more pressing matters at hand. You all did.

"This is setraline, or more commonly known as Zoloft. It can be used for anxiety and depression, and it isn't known to have many side effects. I'm going to give you a 30 day supply. Just take one every morning with breakfast, and it should help you break out of this funk." Harlan explained, handing you a pill bottle. "It wont take away the grief, but it will help balance some of the symptoms of it until you can cope on your own."

"This one," he continued, handing you a little baggie with ten pills. "Is a basic valium. Take it every night with a snack, you'll get your sleep schedule back on track by the time you run out of them."

He offered you a thin lipped smile as you stuffed the medications in your bag.

"Thanks, Doc." You sighed as you stood up. He held the door open and allowed you to exit the medical trailer before himself, shutting the door behind him.

"Don't thank me just yet. I want to see you again in 30 days. We can assess how it worked for you and then maybe you can thank me."

The others were all gathered nearby the gates, talking with Maggie and some others. You made your way over. Michonne smiled kindly as she placed an arm over your shoulders.

"Was he able to help?" Rick asked. You nodded.

"We'll see in 30 days." You told them. The conversation resumed where it left off, and you kind of just absentmindedly stood by, allowing little bits of information to register here and there but not enough to follow.

That was when the gates opened and Jesus walked in, followed by someone you didn't expect in the slightest. Your eyes were dry and wide, throat tight, heart racing out of your chest. Rick was the first to hug him, then Michonne, then Maggie, who he seemed shocked to see.

His eyes landed on you and time stopped. The world simply stopped spinning. He stepped toward you slowly, each crash of his boot into the dirt sounding off like bombs. Tears pooled in your eyes when you could finally reach him hear him, smell him.

"Daryl." You choked.

He didn't say a word, but he didn't have to. The way he embraced you and lifted your feet from the ground, squeezing the air out of you was enough. When he set you back down he planted a kiss on your forehead, lingering there as he breathed you in.

----

The stars had never looked so bright than they did when you were underneath them with Daryl that night. You stayed at Hilltop with him, and instead of enjoying a bed and warm sheets, you both laid on the ground outside Barrington House, breathing easily for the first time since he had been taken.

"How'd you get out?" You wondered.

"Nah. Don't gotta talk 'bout that right now." He said softly, sneaking an arm under you to pull you into him. You rested your head on his chest and he ran his fingers though your hair.

"Okay." You whispered. "I missed you."

"Yeah." He agreed. "Me too. I missed ya."

"I haven't been able to sleep without you."

"Mm." He nodded, fingers still twirling in your strands.

"Can you talk? About anything? I missed your voice."

"Well," he sucked in a breath, searching for something worth telling you. "Every minute I spent away from you just felt longer and longer, ya know? 'N' now that I got ya back I don't wanna think about none of it. Don't wanna think 'bout the fightin' that's comin'.. Just wanna be here. With you."

You sniffled and blinked back tears as you nuzzled closer to him, wishing he could just absorb you into his very being so that you'd never be apart.

You peeked up at him through your eyelashes and he looked down at you, pressing a scratchy kiss on the top of your head.

"I thought about you every minute of every day." You admitted.

"I know." He said softly.

"I just.." You sighed. "I'm just so happy to be here with you. It feels like a dream."

"It ain't."

"But it feels like one." You countered. "Just so unreal."

"It's real." He affirmed.

"I know."

"Good."

"Do you wanna sleep inside tonight?" You asked.

"Nah. Too closed up."

"Okay." You smiled. You snaked an arm over his torso, holding him tightly. He returned the gesture, using dropping his hand from your hair down to your back and pushing you against him. You laid a leg over his.

"Ya been eatin'?" He asked suddenly, running his fingers over your ribcage.

"No." You admitted quietly.

"Gon' eat breakfast tomorrow." He instructed.

"I have to anyways. Harlan said I have to take my meds with food."

"Meds? For what?"

"Depression." You huffed, sitting up and reaching into your bag to show him the pills. "Zoloft and some kind of valium."

"Pfft." He scoffed, taking the pills from you and setting them on top of his own bag as he pulled you back down. You settled back into your previous position. "Don't need no damn drugs. I'm gon' give these back to him tomorrow."

"I guess they were just worried about me. I wasn't really that great, you know, with everything..." You trailed off.

"Okay." He nodded. "I'm here now. Ya don't need 'em."

"Okay." You said sleepily, eyes feeling heavy in the comfort of his embrace. You really didn't need valium, you just needed him to lay with you. He glanced down at you, feeling a bit of warmth in his chest as your eyes began to flutter.

"Get some sleep, now." He whispered.

#daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon #twd daryl #daryl x reader #the walking dead daryl #daryl fanfiction #daryl twd #daryl x female reader #18+ mdni

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exeggcute · 4 months

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well it's been almost six months which I think is long enough to break my posting embargo, so, uh: guess what! I got liposuction lol. specifically hip/thigh lipo to quell some pretty wicked dysphoria that stemmed from having such a feminine silhouette… and I have to say I'm really, really pleased with the results.

tbh my initial plan was to keep things under wraps for good which is why I haven't said anything about it yet (and even as I'm typing this up I keep debating whether to post it or trash it)—partly because I was/am worried people might Act Weird about it and partly because I get a little embarrassed talking about bodygendershit in general. but here we are. one reason I do feel compelled to finally share, other than being super happy about how everything went, is that I haven't encountered a lot of discussions about body sculpting as a possible avenue of gender-affirming care (although, to be fair, maybe I just haven't been looking in the right places) and I figured at least one person out there would be interested to learn about what I did and where I've ended up so far.

anyway. pics/details under the cut—nothing even remotely risqué (or yucky), I just know that body image stuff is fraught + not everyone is eager to hear surgery talk.

to be precise: I got tumescent liposuction of the inner and outer thigh, plus this ultrasound thing to help the skin shrink. a different surgeon who I consulted (but ultimately did not go with for a number of reasons) said that even if I got the results I wanted from lipo, which he claimed was unlikely, the affected skin would look loose/baggy/weird forever... and that surgeon was wrong on both counts lol. my elasticity was great bitch!!!!

they didn't take out that much fat overall, only eight pounds or so, but it's way more about the Where than the How Much. my actual surgeon (who kicks ass btw) said lipo isn't that great for weight loss per se, and what it's really good for is sculpting targeted areas—so basically exactly what I did. six months post-op I actually weigh about the same as what I did pre-op, but the distribution has held steady; more weight goes to my stomach now and less, proportionally, goes to my hips since there are fewer fat cells in that area now. so my silhouette retains its new shape!

the overall change is admittedly on the subtle side, since I'm pretty short and have wide hip bones (and you can't change your literal skeleton) but it's still gone a looooooong way. the main thing I requested from my surgeon was "I want to fit in men's pants" and boy did he deliver.

also a good place to note that if you're in the las vegas area looking for a plastic and/or cosmetic surgeon—this guy is board-certified in both btw—then I absolutely have the guy for you. feel free to DM me for details. lipo is clearly his specialty (and it shows!) but he also does a lot of breast revisions/mastopexy (i.e., fixing implants that other surgeons did a bad job putting in), regular implants, and face work (particularly facial feminization surgery). one thing that sold me on this guy was an enthusiastic yelp review from a local stripper who said he hid the incisions for her breast lift in her armpits so none of her clients would notice that she'd had work done... a true master of his craft

okay you've scrolled enough so I'll give you what you're here for lol. I don't have many pre-op pics because I was obviously unhappy with how I looked and was not taking full-body selfies on a regular basis, but here's a few I took ~2 weeks beforehand:

these super thin men's joggers were my go-to dysphoria pants, to the point where I bought five pairs in different colors, but now they're so baggy on me that they have the opposite effect and make it look like I have wider hips than I do. so I retired them from my wardrobe...

...except not immediately because I had to wear compression garments 24/7 for the first three months post-op and these joggers were just loose enough to comfortably wear a medical girdle underneath them at all times, 110° degree temperatures be damned. (not that I was going out much for the first month since I was soooooooooooo fucking bruised and sore lol.) here's a few post-op pics in the same style pants:

(first pic is less than 24 hours post-op, about to go to my follow-up appointment, looking greasy as fuck because I wasn't allowed to shower yet; second pic two days post-op and also post-shower, thankfully; third pic is about a month post-op.)

so, like, CLEAR improvement already. I will not be posting pictures of my black-and-blue-and-swollen-all-over legs but considering how puffy I was from getting internally pummeled with a cannula it's wild that I still saw improvement literally as soon as I came home.

recovery was obviously not a blast in the moment but I got off easy, all things considered. I was supposed to get drains put in and was Not looking forward to that at all lol. the first thing I asked when I woke up after surgery was "how many drains?" because they weren't sure if I'd end up needing two or four, but it turned out the answer was zero. no drains!!!

I did have to lie with my feet elevated for the first two weeks straight, and had major bruising that receded over the first month (you could barely see my regular skin underneath all the mottled spots), but little to no nerve pain, no weird complications, and I was more or less back to normal after six weeks. also noelle took very very good care of me and was brave about injecting me with blood thinners so I wouldn't get clots and die :)

when I went into it I was fully expecting to get huge vertical scars up and down the sides of my legs (and had made peace with it!) but instead I wound up with four tiny incisions like this, each less than two inches long:

what's totally crazy is that the scars are basically Gone now. like even when I'm trying to find them I struggle to locate the ones in the front. I joked to noelle that if someone did an autopsy on me they might not figure out that I'd had cosmetic surgery, especially since the skin on my thighs is back to its normal color and texture. (in this scenario I like to imagine that it's dana scully giving me the autopsy and I'm in an x-files plot where instead of regular lipo I got alien lipo and mulder figures it out purely by accident.)

with lipo it can take up to a year to see the full results but I already feel so much fucking better in my body that seeing old pre-op pics throws me for a loop. and I can absolutely wear men's pants now—pants for short and stocky men, to be fair, but actual regular men's pants and not exclusively Pants For Men With Huge Butts And Legs. which is the only style I could even hope to fit in before. and even then it was a stretch.

big pic dump of shitty mirror selfies taken over the last few months:

(also I really debated sharing this one but I already included it in the yelp review I left my surgeon so fuck it: here's a tasteful before-and-after in my undies where you can see my bare legs for easier comparison. left pic is one week pre-op, right pic is about five months post-op. including it as a link instead of embedding it in the post in case your boss happens to be reading over your shoulder at this very moment. also this is the one and only time you will ever see me stripped down on tumblr dot com so don't get used to it lol.)

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blueberrypancakesworld · 5 months

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Supporting them - Amanda, John, Mark and Lawrence

warning : angst, hurt/comfort, cuddling, kissing, mentioning of self-harm

masterlist

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

Amanda : The sweet but addicted Amanda is punished by life and resurrected by Jigsaw to start a new life. But this is easier said than done since she tasted the metal and the blood, something has broken inside her and has come together in the form of emotionality and emotional outbursts, all under the cover of fear that she will not be able to live up to John or be left alone by him. Which is why, especially after Mexico and the first game, she seemed all the more nervous, but her partner was there to help her. Whether it was just words of praise or reassurance when the black-haired girl was too nervous. A hand on her shoulder or on her, ,,Just breathe it will be fine" she heard the voice of her lover when she felt her emotions boiling over. A hug behind closed doors and the encouraging gestures. A small snack or just a look was enough to tell her that everything would be alright. They are small things but they help her immensely.

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

John : Jigsaw himself, as strong and effective as his actions are, is vulnerable when reduced to a human being. An elderly man who has terminal cancer and is dying of it. gets robbed of life for changing other people. And yet. But he had his favorite. His partner who helped him with everything Amanda couldn't help with. Sitting together on the couch in his house in the evenings, one hand resting on his in his lap. Showering him with stories of better times and telling him how good he was. That everything was going to be fine, making him warm tea and getting his medication ready. Maybe even try to force him to sleep and continue the drawings. Do everything so that he didn't overexert himself, he had suffered enough. ,,Don't worry John, we'll manage...your work will go on until the end" he heard the words and a small smile came to his lips as he looked at the person with love.

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

Mark : The policeman, scarred by the life of the bear trap and the death of his sister, had lost everything for a time in his life. Alcohol was his best and only friend until he met not only John but also his lover. The thoughts of the darkness that surrounded him were not only tinged with brutality and a slight arrogance, but also with devotion. He loved the little gestures you did for him. A coffee in the evening, a little note, a hug when he came home and a cuddle when his mornings were hard. ,,My strong policeman... you are everything Mark, understand? I will always help you," said his favorite and hugged the older one. The older one replied that he was glad to have someone still worth loving but for everything that had happened he was grateful to have his partner. Someone he could kiss, someone who was there for him, someone he could trust after everything that had happened.

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

Lawrence: The divorce from his wife, the loss of his daughter, the death of his friend Adams and the loss of his mentor and his failure with Jill. It was a time when he needed help, help to deal with his body and the loss of his leg. But it was also a time when he met his angel, his partner who not only helped him cope with his prosthesis but also with the process of his daughter. The nights were usually longer and he was afraid that the plans would not turn out right. But when he felt the reassuring hand of his darling on his shoulder, smelled coffee and felt a warm blanket around him. ,,Don't get cold, sweetie... go to sleep, I'll stay with you okay," he heard the voice and smiled slightly. They were small cares and yet they were gestures that showed him that nothing was in vain. He still had hope and love by his side.

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

@callmeklarise

#saw movies #saw franchise #amanda young #john kramer #mark hoffman #lawrence gordon #amanda young x reader #john kramer x reader #mark hoffman x reader #lawrence gordon x reader

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sarifel-corrisafid-ilxhel · 5 months

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Looking through my old notes again, I found a brief bit where a friend of mine (@lilacnothlit) and I discussed an Animorphs bodyswap fic. Details: The narrator was going to be Tobias. The bodyswap was caused by a Yeerk plot device that was supposed to interfere with the morphing ability - possibly a revisit of the Anti-Morphing Ray in a new form, or a Morph Scrambler, or something to that effect. Rachel and Ax switch bodies. Ax is terrible at being a teenage girl, but Naomi is busy with a case and Rachel's little sisters think Rachel acting funny is hilarious, so no danger there. Rachel hates having to live in the woods, so she promptly acquires herself with Ax's help and can be herself 2 hours at a time. Long enough for shopping trips at the mall, doing damage control at home. and hanging out with Tobias. Cassie and Jake switch bodies. Both are too embarrassed by the situation to do anything but put their noses to the grindstone and get through it. Luckily for them, Jake was already a fixture at Cassie's barn every other day anyways, so no one raises an eyebrow when "Jake" comes over to help "Cassie" with medicating the animals and mucking out the barn. Tobias and Marco switch bodies. This is where most of the problems arise, as neither of them is even remotely prepared for the kind of life the other leads. Tobias is also frustrated because the Side Plot involves yet another hawk threatening to take over Tobias's meadow, and Marco cannot, will not defend the meadow because he doesn't know how. Where Tobias valiantly and nobly exiled himself to the woods to live as a wild bird, Marco hangs out with Cassie and Jake all day, eating hamburger and watching television and doing his best impression of a teenage boy even though he's currently a bird and weighs 3 pounds soaking wet.

We never quite figured out a resolution. Maybe the device screwed with Visser Three's morphing ability too, so the Yeerks have to undo it and accidentally help the Animorphs in the process. Maybe the Animorphs manage to hold themselves together for a mission, steal the device, and get Erek and/or Ax to reverse it. I do know the Animorphs still being able to acquire their original bodies from each other and pretend to be themselves 2 hours at a time makes things easier, though.

#animorphs #body swap plot #fic idea

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yowyowyaoi · 9 months

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Itachi’s Daily Texts from the Akatsuki

From Konan

Nobody eats until you come out and eat with us 😤

Thank you! You’re the only one who even noticed 💙

You need to do a better job of hiding that kitten lol it pushed open your door and walked down the hallway again

Of course! You know where I keep it you don’t even have to ask 😊

I know I’ve spoken to Nagato about them he’ll handle it

You have GOT to come try this new massage chair I got it’s heaven 😌

From Deidara

Come on I was just kidding!!

Please call him off if he bites off my hand again Sasori said he won’t replace it 😔

Sharingan is not art it’s dirty cheating

The counter is covered with plates of eggs, did you do that weird sleepwalking thing again?!

Me and Hidan and maybe Tobi. Come on take the stick out of your ass and just come with us!

I’ll paint them if you braid my hair first.

Why do you always blame me?? Hidan probably took it!

Omfg I SWEAR I meant that for Sasori!! 😳 Please please don’t show Kisame he’ll kill me 😫

From Zetsu

He’s just so emotional is that an Uchiha trait?

I can literally smell your exhaustion you need to go and rest

Yeah very cute. Be a shame if someone ate it 👀

He was doing fine. Got a lot taller. Looks a lot like you in the face.

No I’m glad you made him leave that dude freaked even ME out 😵‍💫

From “Tobi” aka Obito

Can I borrow your face cream? This mask makes my skin itch like crazy!

God stop it man are you TRYING to speed up going blind?!

Would he take your last name or would you take his? 🤔

No. Never. They think I’m a dumbass, remember?

Little more time in the sun would probably help 🤷🏻‍♂️

“Crushes” are for little kids. And anyway he hates me 😔

I thought about that yeah. Reminded me of your mom’s. She always made the best ones.

I’m not sure of anything kid. But we’re in it too far to back out.

Idk you just looked super pale

Ask Sasori to make you more, they’re helping a little

Idc what Zetsu says. I can do a lotta shit but cannibalism isn’t one of them 🤢

You think I didn’t see you sneak in that pie? Either share or I’m telling Kisame.

From Nagato

Come and join Konan and I for tea. We’ve got a new blend we think you’ll like.

Permission granted. Just be back within three days, I’ll be sending you two on a mission then.

Thank you for the tips. My eyes feel much better now.

Take your time reading it. When you finish I’d love to discuss some of the themes with you.

I know you dislike meat but perhaps a bit more protein might help improve your stamina.

I don’t mind but do not let Kakuzu see it.

From Hidan

Movies with me and blondie?

Yeah but he’s half-animal right? Still counts, pervert.

PLEASE make the splinters in the ass joke PLEASE I AM BEGGING YOU😭😭😭

If I didn’t take a piece you would have ate the whole fucking thing yourself and your stomach would burst. You’re welcome 😊

No that was definitely Deidara’s gay ass

Mask boy’s looking for you

Oh right like Kisame wouldn’t beat my ass for that 🙄 Nice try asshole

God damn it’s 3am when the FUCK do you sleep?!

We’re not “plotting” anything just come with ffs 🤦‍♂️

It was an accident and I didn’t even look that long don’t tell her she’ll slice me up with that sharp-ass paper 😖

From Kakuzu

You always being on time with your rent is most appreciated.

To be honest I don’t really know. But at this point I’m too far into my feelings for him so this is my life now.

Getting enough sleep is important. Nagato agrees that a new mattress would be in your best interests. No arguments.

I’ve ripped off his leg and made it clear it won’t be returned until he returns your property to you.

I’ll consult with Sasori and get back to you.

Konan is insisting everyone text you to come down to eat. It’s my turn. Be advised that continued delay will result in one or more of us coming and retrieving you by force.

From Sasori

Please inform me right away if you notice any adverse side effects. I may need to change the medication or adjust the dosage.

Oh, thank you for reminding me. I wouldn’t want a repeat of last year. What sort of gift do you think I should give him?

You’re more than welcome to anytime. You know I don’t sleep.

Finding the correct body is the most difficult part. All that follows is merely routine.

He can be very sensitive. I’m still learning to decipher and appropriately react to his emotions.

May I borrow that book when you’ve finished it?

Heh. That’s actually very funny.

Try not to overdo it. Your chakra levels still haven’t recovered from the last time.

You may want to hurry back. Zetsu has been circling outside your door like an animal and trying to sniff under it. That lock may not hold.

From Kisame

You remembered your meds today right?

Did you eat?

Yeah? I bet I could work out that tension 😏

Cake is not acceptable for every meal, Itachi.

I got a new blanket, very soft. Come test it out with me 💙

I’ll talk to him about it don’t worry.

For God’s sake just TAKE A NAP!

Have fun but watch your back, I don’t trust those two.

Pretty warm out tonight. Midnight swim later? 😏

You left your necklace on my dresser

Leave it there. You’ve already got one illicit pet you don’t need a second.

I’m cooking, you’re eating. No objections.

My hands are craving being in your hair 😔

I did not eat him. Zetsu is a liar.

You got any more pics like that? Please? 👀

I 💙 you too

#itachi uchiha #texting #the akatsuki #kisaita #kisame x itachi #kisame hoshigaki #hidan #deidara #kakuzu #sasori #zetsu #nagato #konan #🦈🍡#Akatsuki Daily Texts Series

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wri0thesley · 2 years

Note

c-can I suggest a thirst or concept of yan!baizhu who keeps you because you’re “injured”. And you just stay injured for mysterious reasons… u need his help to do things now, he’s a doctor so U gotta trust his methods even if they make your body react in interesting ways… not his fault, he’s the doctor, maybe the patient is a bit sicker than we thought 😳 (delete this if it’s trash dhshshdh)

cw; medical play, drugging, aphrodisiacs, fingering, dub-con, yandere, reader is Ill With Unspecified Something. not sfw, minors dni. afab reader with no pronouns.

Everybody trusts Baizhu’s medical prowess. Rumours may swirl about the man himself, and his business practises and his physical health and his other occasionally questionable pursuits, but nobody denies that his medical knowledge is boundless and he is always the right person to go to in a crisis. Which is why you trust him, when you’re taken to bubu pharmacy after being struck down by a mysterious illness, and his brow creases and he brings you into a private room.

You submit to the prodding and poking, even as Baizhu apologises to you for the intrustion with a very faint smile on his face. He reassures you that nothing he’s going to do is untoward; he merely hasn’t seen your symptoms before, and you do seem quite terribly weak . . . and, too, if he hasn’t seen these symptoms before, how is he to know that you are not infectious? Really, the safest course of action for everybody is for you to stay close to him, so he may gently pry into your condition and keep abreast of the situation. Everyone you know is grateful and gushing to him for this great sacrifice, but even as your parent tries to push money into his hands, for once he shakes his head and says in a perfectly kind voice;

“Ah. Perhaps after they’re cured. It would be greatly remiss of me to take payment for something I’m not certain I can treat.”

He even takes you home with him. The pharmacy is not equipped to handle a long-term guest, but Baizhu’s home certainly is, and is also perfectly accessible for an invalid. He seems a little more lively with you around, nevertheless - and he never misses a chance to visit, and check on your symptoms, and . . . inspect you, for any changes.

There’s nowhere for you to go, and nobody for you to ask if this is truly appropriate, when Baizhu enters the room and bids you disrobe for him. All of his reassurances that this is perfectly normal; as you’re bare and shivering on the bed, do not quite quell your fear as he runs careful fingers over your bare skin. As he hums slightly as his palms rest on your breasts, as he pinches your nipples gently with the excuse of ‘just testing your reaction times, my dear’. There’s nowhere to go when he slips his hands between your thighs with clinical detachment and nods to himself when he feels the barest whisper of wetness.

“That will do for today,” he tells you, and he leaves you a bitter herbal concoction on the bedside table and tells you to drink it at intervals, says you ought to try and get some rest.

The symptoms ease, but at the same time . . . they begin to change. Any hopes that you had of escaping Baizhu’s perfect bedside manner and scrupulous care to try and see outside again seem to fade away when Baizhu’s eyebrows draw in as he checks your heartrate.

“Oh, dear,” he says, quite mournfully. “It seems we still have a ways to go, hmm? Some of it may be side-effects of the medicine, of course, and some of it I was expecting . . . but I daresay you’ll be here for a few more weeks, at least.”

The side-effects and new symptoms give you pause, too. Your head seems to be constantly swimming; nightmares, your heart pounding louder and more noticeably, an ache low in your abdomen--

You bring all of this up to Baizhu. As expected, his voice is gentle as he leads you back to the bed and tells you in a practised, detached manner that he’s going to do another examination, but this one may seem a little . . . invasive. A little more thorough. You dig your nails into your palms and acquiesce; take off your clothes again.

He bids you spread your thighs wide, knees up, ankles apart - gloved fingers taking more time over everywhere than he ever has before. Gently squeezing the weight of your breast, this time - teasing your nipples into hardness instead of merely pinching them. You feel your breath get harder and he murmurs reassurance, tells you to carry on breathing--

But the way he’s touching you is stirring intense feelings inside of you. When his fingers drift to between your thighs, he clicks his tongue.

“Ah, yes,” he says. “I’d thought so.”

He takes his time between your legs. Slowly stroking, spreading your sex apart, studying it with hot, humiliating care. You can feel yourself soaking slick onto the bedsheet. You can feel yourself pulsing and fluttering, for no matter how embarrassing it is, your body is reacting. Baizhu acts as though this is perfectly normal, though.

“You’re producing more lubrication than I’d expect,” he says, in that calm, gentle bedside manner. “I’m going to put a finger inside of you, alright?”

Your tongue is too heavy to say no. You don’t remember when the last time you had your medicine was. Your hips tilt against your will as he presses one of his fingers inside of you, a soft noise escaping your parted lips even as Baizhu gently murmurs soft, encouraging noises and tells you how well you’re doing. You hear the wet squelch of him gently moving it echo around the room - and you realise that the other noise you can hear, the desperate one, is your own panting.

“I’m going to add another,” he says. “Stay relaxed for me now, dear.”

This one gets an intake of breath; sharper stinging, as he scissors the two fingers inside of you as if trying to allow his fingers more access to your pulsating walls. His eyes, slitted pupils and fascinated gold behind shining glass, stay utterly trained on the part of you shining between your legs.

Humiliating. Embarrassing. But your body is reacting despite itself, pumping out more slick, pleasure coiling low in your stomach.

“Hmm,” he says, softly. “Ah, I think I see the problem here. Yes, I can help with this.”

Gloved fingers pulling out of you with a slick pop. You’re insensible, now, breathless and panting and hot hot hot all over - but Baizhu finally meets your eyes instead of your spread thighs, and says, quietly;

“Your permission, dear? I can help you with the side-effects, but it’s . . . unorthodox.”

“Please,” you manage to blurt out, and Baizhu smiles at you with that inscrutably polite smile and reaches carefully to his waist to begin undoing his clothes.

#yandere genshin impact #not sfw #yandere baizhu #baizhu x reader #baizhu smut #i want to fuck the shady doctor guys. im sorry #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smut #dark content for ts #medical play for ts #genshin impact posting #concept postin #drabble #afab reader

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cherienymphe · 1 year

Text

Amnesiac V (Rafe Cameron x Reader)

WARNINGS: eventual NON-CON, eventual DUB-CON, dub-con kissing/fingering, mentions of violence, public sex, manipulation, memory loss, underage drinking, drug use, non canon ages, kook!reader

➥ banner by @maysdigitalarts | divider by @firefly-graphics

➥ series masterlist

summary: “There’s something wrong with your love story, baby…”

After a surfing accident leaves you with little to no memory of everything that happened before that day, you start to wonder if the blond in what little memories you do have is the same one who claims to be your boyfriend.

Ward and Rafe fought.

A lot.

Within the past 2 months or so, you’d either somehow missed it or they did a very good job of keeping you in the dark, but it was there. You’d seen the cold looks they’d throw each other occasionally, and you didn’t think anything of it. A tiff between father and son? Not unheard of. You’d even hear the angered whispers in his office late at night, Rafe’s relaxed drawl bleeding through sometimes.

It was only when you came up the stairs one day did you realize what it was about.

“If it’s not the generators then it’s the contractors or the gardener,” Ward angrily spat. “You like to throw it in my face that I don’t trust you when you prove time and time again that I simply can’t.”

“Dad-.”

“Every opportunity I give you to be responsible, to prove yourself, what do you do? You spend the money on gifts for Y/N or you blow it with your friends or snort it up your damn nose!”

Your lips had parted at that, heart dropping for several reasons.

“When I saw how responsible you were being with Y/N, I thought that things would be different now. I thought ‘wow, maybe I can finally trust him’, but no. You’re still the same as you always were.”

You backed down a few steps as Ward hurried past, his office door slamming not long after, and you felt frozen. Sarah had said that the way Rafe was around you wasn’t who he was with everyone else, and you honestly couldn’t decide if that was good…or bad.

By the time you got the courage to move again, Rafe had already made his way to his room. You didn’t want him to know that you’d heard, and so you took a moment to gather yourself, schooling your features before pushing his door open. His face was even when you walked in, and he threw you a smile.

You could see the slight strain in his face though, the darkness in his eyes, and you were tempted to ask him what was wrong. You wanted Rafe to know that he could talk to you about anything, but you had quickly learned that Rafe wasn’t the type who could so easily talk about his feelings unprovoked. Your discovery of the true nature of his relationship with his dad made you look at both of them in a whole new light.

Once you saw it, you couldn’t unsee it, and you wondered how you missed it before.

Rafe’s desperation for Ward’s approval was almost painful to watch. His lingering gaze as he told Ward he was taking you to the doctor for your check up, the way he’d wait for Ward to say anything as he offered to take care of business for him, the clench of Rafe’s jaw whenever Ward flat out ignored his presence altogether.

It made you incredibly sad for him.

And truthfully, maybe that was why you ignored the red flags. The jitteriness, the way he’d brush his fingers under his nose, or Ward even flat out insinuating that Rafe did drugs. There was a large part of you that was understanding of however Rafe chose to cope with his dad’s ire. As much as you wanted him to let you inside of his head, you knew better than anyone that was easier said than done. So, you turned a blind eye, hoping he’d come to you when he was ready.

You hadn’t expected it to be in the middle of the night when he was drunk out of his mind. Or high. You couldn’t tell the difference.

He’d woken you up out of your sleep, stumbling inside in the dark and knocking against his dresser. Your doctor had given you some pain medication for the headaches, and drowsiness was an unfortunate side effect, so these days you found yourself hitting the hay much earlier than Rafe. You languidly turned on the lamp, blinking at the sight of Rafe as he struggled to get his jacket off.

“Rafe, what time is it?”

He mumbled something to you, and you glanced at the clock, noting that it was 3 in the morning. He bumped into his dresser again, and you pushed yourself to your feet to help him undress. It was then that you noticed his face, and you froze.

“Rafe…what happened to your face?”

Your voice was low, hands shaky as you reached for his face, eyes fixed on the blood running down the side of his head. The split lip that had only just healed was injured again, and the blood underneath his nose was alarming.

“Rafe, what-?”

“He is never getting near you again,” he suddenly said, words slurring.

You were stumped, blinking a few times as you shook your head.

“What? What are you- who are you talking about, Rafe? Where have you been? What did you do?”

You were growing frantic, and he wasn’t helping you out, at all. His hands found your face too, and something about the way he dragged his fingers along your skin unnerved you.

“I won’t let him come in between us again,” he slurred, shaking his head. “Not again.”

You froze, taking in his injuries in a whole new light, a deep frown on your face.

“JJ? Are you talking about…? Is that where you were?”

His hands tightened on your face, and the look that washed over Rafe’s features was terrifying. His eyes grew cold, an almost dead look in them as his lip curled, and he gazed down his nose at you.

“Do not say his name,” he slowly said, making you swallow.

Rafe took a step forward, forcing you to take one back, and you reminded yourself that it was whatever was in his system that had him acting this way.

“Do not say his name to me, right now,” he bit out.

“Rafe-.”

“I loved you for as long as I could remember,” he said, voice trembling, his eyes taking on a glossy look. “I wanted to give you everything!”

You jumped, stumbling back.

“…and you chose him over me,” he sneered, fingers brushing his chest now. “I made one mistake. I messed up one time, and you didn’t hesitate to turn your back on me.”

“Rafe, I don’t…”

You trailed off, amazed at how you could be nervous and confused and sorry for Rafe all at once. You didn’t know what you did nor what Rafe did, but the regret and pain in his gaze was clear as day. His hands found your neck again, and you swallowed, noting that he wasn’t squeezing, but just holding them there. He lowered his head, leaning in and staring you right in your eyes.

“You were fucking him��weren’t you?”

Your eyes widened at his words, feeling like the wind had been knocked out of you.

“What?” you whispered.

He chuckled, but it lacked humor, and the look he gave you could’ve curdled milk.

“You were…weren’t you?” he slowly asked.

You shook your head in confusion.

“Rafe, I don’t-.”

“Those Pogues are always trying to take what doesn’t belong to them,” he slurred, making your eyebrows raise. “…and he just…swooped in and took you away from me.”

Your mouth was open in shock for various reasons. Was Rafe implying that you cheated on him? Or was this before you were together? Did he feel like JJ had taken his friend? You didn’t understand, and Rafe wasn’t giving you time to.

“You two were always off together…”

The back of your legs brushed against his bed.

“Smiling…and giggling,” he said the words like they were the most disgusting things in the world.

You felt trapped, desperately wanting to apologize for something you didn’t even remember. With his inhibition down, Rafe clearly felt confident to express his anger over something still bothered him deeply. You wondered to yourself if it was something that affected him just as much while sober? You slowly raised your hands, swallowing.

“I’m…I think I should go and get Ward.”

“Why?” he asked, voice hard and steady now as he tilted his head. “So, he can tell me what a disappointment I am?”

Your face fell, and you opened your mouth to speak when he continued.

“You knew what it was like with me and him. You knew how he treated me, and you still abandoned me for that trash from The Cut!”

“Rafe, I’m sorry-!”

“…and you don’t even remember,” he spat, shaking his head. “You don’t even remember what that did to me, how that hurt me.”

You swallowed, opting instead to stay quiet seeing as everything you’d say somehow was the wrong thing. Rafe took a deep breath, eyes still glassy as he reached up and took your face into his hands. He sniffed, blood still under his nose and on his lip. The trail of red on the side of his head was starting to dry some, and he chuckled more so to himself.

“But that’s okay…because you’re mine again,” he breathed, leaning in to brush his nose against yours. “I have you now…and I am never…letting you go.”

He laughed to himself again, and all you could think was that you didn’t think you liked Rafe like this. You didn’t like this side of him that was high and drunk and a complete emotional mess. You wanted to tell him to sleep this off, that you could talk about this in the morning, but his bloody lips met yours before you had the chance.

You were unsure as he desperately moved his mouth against yours, kissing you like he was sure you’d disappear at any given moment. You absentmindedly noted that this was probably the perfect time to ask Rafe whatever you wanted. He was under the influence with his thoughts going all over the place, but even if you could bring yourself to betray his trust like that, his hold on your face and his lips on yours wouldn’t let you.

The sun beat down on your skin, warming it, and you looked out over the ocean as the sand pressed between your toes. After Rafe had passed out, you found it hard to find sleep. His words had been all over the place, but one thing was clear. For whatever reason, and you didn’t know if that reason was valid or not, Rafe felt like JJ had taken you away from him.

It had kept you up most of the night, eyes sad and lips pressed together as you stared at Rafe’s sleeping face, tracing his lips and nose with your finger. He hadn’t stirred as you cleaned him up, wiping the blood off of his skin. You had wondered just what had happened, and you hoped that your suspicions were wrong. You didn’t want Rafe willingly seeking out danger.

You’d snuck out while he slept during the early hours of the morning, asking Rose to drop you off at the beach on her way out for her run. You hadn’t been to the beach since your accident, and while she looked unsure at first, she eventually agreed. Rafe’s words had unnerved you, and you were desperate more than ever to remember something.

Anything.

Unfortunately, staring at the water didn’t stir anything within you. Not even a smidgen of a memory. The rough blue did remind you of that day though. The angry waves, the setting sun, and the harsh rocks. You shuddered as you thought about it again, turning away with an angry sigh.

Rafe had promised that you would make new memories, better ones, but that wouldn’t be possible until the old ones stopped haunting you both.

You had just looked towards the sand when you heard your name being called. You turned, confused and surprised by the girl hurrying towards you. Her skin was warm and golden, chestnut hair in loose waves and blowing with the wind as she ran towards you. You only just put a name to the pictures you’d seen when she wrapped her arms around you.

“Oh my God,” she breathed, frame shaking.

She held you for what felt like a long time, and the feel of it was so familiar, so comforting that you hugged her back. When she pulled away to really look at you, that was when she seemed to remember…and then her face fell.

“That’s right,” she softly said. “Sarah said that you didn’t remember anything.”

“Little stuff is coming back,” you quickly told her.

You didn’t know why you had the urge to reassure her that your memories were coming back, that memories of her would come back. She gave you a small smile before hesitantly stepping back.

“I’m Kie.”

You gave a slow nod.

“I know. I’ve seen you in a lot of my pictures.”

“We wanted to check on you so bad, but…they were only allowing certain people to come by the hospital and see you,” she explained, biting her lip. “…and then Rafe had taken off with you when we came by the house.”

“About that-.”

“Sarah told us how sorry you were,” she interrupted while waving you off. “It’s fine. Really.”

She must have seen the guilt on your face.

“Rafe likes to get his way, and with your condition, right now, we can’t blame you for that. I can’t even blame you for never telling me you two were dating,” she chuckled, and you frowned. “You knew how everyone felt about Rafe, so…”

While you understood that your relationship with Rafe had been a secret, something in you found it hard to believe that no one knew. Not even one of your supposed best friends.

“You sure had all of us fooled…especially JJ.”

Your eyes lit up at that, desperate to know more about the guy that had caused so much trouble between you and Rafe.

“What do you mean?” you hesitantly asked, and she blew out a breath.

“He’s been really quiet lately? That’s not like him, and…the few times we have seen him since your accident, he’s just really in his own head,” she told you. “He’s not…he’s not doing good, and I thought it was just because of your accident…”

She trailed off, looking towards the water with a sigh, hand shielding her eyes from the sun.

“But then that day at The Wreck…he took one look at Rafe and just…hit him,” she said with a shrug.

So, Sarah was wrong.

It was unprovoked.

“It took John B., Pope, and my dad to hold him back,” she whispered. “I had never seen him so angry.”

Now, your frown deepened. It seemed unprovoked, but if she was telling the truth, then clearly he was very upset with Rafe about something.

“Have you seen him today?” you wondered out of the blue, and Kie suddenly frowned.

She looked at you, tilting her head in thought before finally answer.

“No, actually,” she said as if only just realizing it. “Why do you ask?”

You recalled Rafe’s face and his words, and you struggled with yourself over whether or not to say anything.

“Rafe…”

She curiously looked at you, and you swallowed, nervously dipping your toes into the sand.

“He came home last night,” you exhaled, unsure if you were doing the right thing or making things worse. “It was late and…he was saying a lot of things that I didn’t quite understand.”

You still struggled to make sense of it all.

“He was high or drunk or something, I don’t know, and…he was bloody.”

Her lips parted at that.

“I think he got into a fight with JJ last night,” you whispered.

“Are you serious?”

You nodded, and she scoffed, running both of her hands through her hair. She was just about to say something else when the sound of your name being called grabbed both your attention. You shouldn’t have been surprised to see Rafe, and the bruises on his face was enough to cement what you had told Kie. She looked disgusted at the sight of him.

“So, it’s true. What did you do to him?”

Rafe faltered at that before nearing you, eyes narrowed at you.

“What did you tell her?” he quietly demanded.

Kie spoke before you could.

“She didn’t tell me anything,” she covered for you. “She didn’t have to. Answer the question.”

“I don’t recall speaking to you,” he harshly threw at her from over his shoulder. “Don’t you have some Pogue to go and look after?”

You frowned at Rafe at his words, and you could see Kie hesitating, clearly not wanting to leave you alone with him. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say that she wanted you to come with her, but with a frustrated huff, she turned away to go and find JJ, no doubt. Rafe’s hand on your arm prevented you from leaving even if you wanted to.

“I woke up, and you were gone,” was the only thing he said.

“I needed to think. I needed to… I wanted to try and remember something, anything.”

Rafe’s brows twitched at that.

“You could’ve woken me up. I would’ve taken you anywhere you wanted-.”

“Rafe, you were like the dead when I left. I don’t know what you were on last night, but I wanted to be alone anyway.”

“Do you understand how scared I was?”

“I’m sorry, okay? I wasn’t trying to scare you, but I just really needed to be alone and think.”

“About…?”

You sighed, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Things that you said…things that you insinuated,” you mumbled. “You made it very clear that I hurt you, badly, and…”

You trailed off when Rafe heaved a sigh, eyes falling closed.

“I just don’t see how we can make better memories when our old ones are still breathing down our necks. I mean, you got into a fight with JJ last night… Right? That seemed pretty obvious, but I want to hear it from you.”

Rafe’s silence was confirmation enough, and you swallowed.

“Did you go to him? Or did you just run into him?”

He murmured your name, and for the first time since you woke up, you could feel yourself getting angry with your boyfriend.

“Is this something I can expect? For you to get high and come home in the middle of the night bloody and whatever else?”

“No, okay? No,” he finally said, stepping closer to you. “I messed up last night. I did, and I’m sorry.”

“I know that you and your dad don’t have the best relationship,” you whispered, and his eyes snapped to yours at that. “It’s not my place to overstep, and I know it sucks, so I just look the other way with however you choose to cope, but…”

You took a deep breath.

“I don’t want what happened last night to be a regular thing,” you told him. “I’m serious, Rafe.”

“I know you are,” he sighed, pressing his forehead to yours.

“You scared me. Do you understand that?”

Rafe took your face into his hands, nodding.

“I do…and I’m sorry. I mean that.”

Rafe held your gaze, brushing his fingers over your skin before hesitantly kissing you, gaging your reaction. He audibly sighed in relief when you kissed him back.

The sound of the party was loud in your ears despite how far away you were from the house. Rafe stood before you, face pinched in anger and hands clenched into fists at his side. Your heart and chest were so heavy as you stared at him, and the disbelief coursing through you was palpable.

“I feel…really stupid,” you heard yourself slowly say, nodding as you blinked back tears. “…and in all the years we’ve been friends, you never managed to make me feel stupid, Rafe, but I have to admit, you won this one.”

You bit back a sob.

“You got one over on me.”

He angrily whispered your name, and you furiously shook your head.

“No…no.”

You sniffed, reaching up to wrap your hand around a familiar necklace. His cold blue eyes were immediately drawn to the movement, jaw clenching.

“You don’t get to say my name like that anymore…”

He stepped towards you, and you stepped back.

“Why?” you tearfully asked, your heart breaking. “Why wasn’t it enough? Why do you have to ruin everything, Rafe?”

You were screaming now.

“You own this entire side of the island, and yet you still want more! You want everything,” you screeched. “You are like this…greedy…little…gremlin.”

Your chest was heaving, heart racing and head pounding.

“You have to have everything in sight, everything. Everything has to be yours- everyone has to be yours!”

You chuckled to yourself, and it was so bitter…so broken.

“…and when you don’t get what you want…you turn into the nastiest person I have ever seen.”

The wind ruffled his dirty blond hair, and Rafe’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, shifting on his feet. As he shoved his hands into his pockets, he at least had the gall to look a little bit ashamed.

“…and now I feel like the idiot because I never thought that would include me,” you whispered.

Rafe opened and closed his mouth, reaching for you as you stepped closer. However, he froze as he watched you rip the necklace from around your throat, hurdling the expensive yellow gold jewelry straight at his chest. He was so shocked by the action that all he could do was lazily catch it, mouth falling open as he stared down at it.

“Our entire friendship was a fucking lie.”

You spat the words at him, stumbling back before turning around.

“Babe…?”

You blinked, coming back to the present as you looked around. You were eating at the club with Rafe and his friends, and they were all currently staring at you in both wonder and concern. Rafe’s hand was on your arm, brows knitted together as he eyed your own hand. You only just realized that it was touching the necklace around your throat, a deep frown on your face.

“Are you okay? Did you remember something else…?”

You did…but for some reason, you didn’t want to tell him that.

Why?

More importantly, why had you been so mad at Rafe that night? You noted that in the memory, his hair was blonder, not as long and pushed back away from his face. You recalled the photos you’d seen at the Cameron household, and you surmised that that memory must have been from…what? A year ago? A year and a half?

That was plenty of time for you to make up with Rafe, but…why had you been so mad in the first place?

You brushed your finger over the same necklace you’d tossed in the memory, answering Rafe with a shake of your head.

“No, I was just…in my head a little bit.”

He didn’t look like he believed you, but Rafe nodded anyway.

When you all parted ways, you could still feel his gaze lingering on you as he walked you to his truck. The club was cleaning up, no more patrons around and the only other cars around belonging to staff. Rafe’s hand was tight on yours as he opened the passenger door for you, helping you inside, but preventing you from closing the door.

You curiously looked at him.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

You nodded.

“I told you, I just… I don’t know. I guess I spaced out,” you lied.

His brows drew together, Rafe studying you with a hum. He leaned in, a small smirk on his lips as he rested his hands on either side of your waist, and you noticed that he stood between your legs.

“You know how I take your mind off of things when you get like that?” he wondered.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you gave a nervous chuckle.

“Rafe,” you quietly said, looking around.

“I miss you,” he suddenly said, and his fingers danced along your thigh, courtesy of the skirt he’d picked out for you. “So fucking much.”

“I’m right here,” you tried to joke.

He tilted his head to the side, giving you a deadpanned look.

“You know what I mean,” he deeply replied. “You trust me, right?”

His hand was under your skirt now, fingers grazing dangerously close to the underwear that he had also picked out.

“Y-yes…but-.”

“But nothing then,” he purred, leaning in to press his lips to yours.

You sharply inhaled as he deepened the kiss. You rested your hands on his shoulders, prepared to push him away and suggest doing something else entirely when he cupped you underneath your skirt. You gasped, body jerking, and Rafe took the opportunity to taste your tongue.

He massaged his fingers against you, a slight chuckle leaving his lips as he felt you grow wet. Your nails were pressing into his shoulder, and he nipped at your mouth, expertly pushing your underwear to the side before skin finally met skin. Your heart was racing, and your skin was starting to grow hot.

“Rafe,” you murmured.

In his own world, he pushed a finger into you, a low hiss escaping him at the feel of you clenching around him. Your mouth parted, and he cursed, pressing himself further against you as he started to work the appendage inside of you. His lips danced down the column of your throat, and you grew lightheaded, head lolling back.

When he added another finger, no one was more surprised than you at the moan you let out. You were so beyond glad that it was dark out, embarrassed enough and not wanting to add to it with the possibility of someone seeing you.

Rafe massaged your walls with an expertise that made your head spin. Your head tilted to the side, leaning against the headrest, and you heard Rafe groan. You were dripping around his fingers, and her curled them into you over and over again, making you shudder.

His free hand rested on your cheek just as he spoke.

“Look at me,” he whispered, tone leaving little room for argument.

You did, albeit with a struggle, and your eyes met his heated ones as he continued to finger you. He didn’t break eye contact at all, his tongue darting out to rest against his lip as he thrust his fingers into you, thumb pressing against you and making circles. The whimper you let out was a little louder, and your lashes fluttered.

“Nuh uh,” he tsk’d, harshly grabbing your face. “I want you to look at me.”

“Rafe-.”

“Keep those pretty eyes on me,” he demanded, vigorously pushing his fingers into you. “I want you to look at me when you come all over my hand.”

You clenched at that, toes curling a bit, and his perfect teeth winked at you, his grin almost sinister in nature.

“You like the sound of that?”

You didn’t need to answer, Rafe’s grin widening. You pressed your hand to the inside of his truck, biting your lip as your hips moved of their own accord, meeting his fingers thrust for thrust. Rafe leaned in, brushing his lips against the corner of your mouth.

“I’ll always clean up your messes, baby.”

He was lowering himself before you had time to respond, replacing his fingers with his entire mouth, and the sound that left you was embarrassing. At least, it would’ve been if you could actually focus on it. You shook in his seat, eyes rolling when he harshly pinched your leg, and you remembered to look down, holding his gaze as you came onto his lips. His thumb was still circling your bundle of nerves, and it was almost too much.

His free hand pressed against your stomach, holding you in place while stars continued to dance behind your eyes. There was a rush in your ears that sounded like the ocean, and when you were done, Rafe pulled back before diving in again and licking a clean swipe up your cunt. You trembled at that, still struggling to catch your breath as Rafe stood, eyeing his sticky hand.

You watched as he stuck his finger in his mouth, pulling off his ring as he did and rolling it against his tongue while he wiped his hand. He hummed at the taste of you before silently putting it back on, admiring it before moving to strap you in. When he kissed you, it was long and heated, and you were at a loss for words when he shut you in.

#rafe cameron x kook!reader #rafe cameron x reader #outer banks #obx fic #dark!rafe cameron x reader #dark!rafe cameron

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fatuismooches · 4 months

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SMOOOOCHES!!! hello sweetheart!! ໒꒰ྀིᵔ ᵕ ᵔ ꒱ྀི১

I hope you’ve been well since the last time I came on here!! (little update on my test results: everything came back clean except a few things came back indecisive but nothing to worry about! Chronic illness doesn’t seem to be getting any worse as of right now.) but asides from that here’s a little drabble as I was re-reading a few of my earlier drabbles from last year!

We know fragile!reader despises examinations and having to endure the painful injections every few weeks when Dottore batches up a new medicine. However, what if it backfires completely? Causing fragile!reader to be in an even weaker condition, barely able to move and clinging onto Dottore as tightly as they can. Perhaps running a fever, feeling miserable as they feel as if though their whole body is being pricked by thousands of needles as they shake from their fever. Dottore would try his best to not let his emotions show, but deep down he’s panicking and trying to figure out how he can cancel out the current “medicine” running through their body. To say Dottore feels guilt is an understatement, he knows that any medicine that they take can easily backfire quickly, but he never would’ve thought the symptoms would be so severe. :( once their condition stabilizes I like to think Dottore keeps them close for at least a few days, just to make sure everything is fine. Even if it means they’ll be all clingy to him, he’d rather they be safe and alive rather than induced in a coma once again.

A bit of fluff: I like to think Zandy definitely also tries to cheer you up after the whole ordeal. He’s not sure why you weren’t visiting or reading books to him anymore, other than that “you were busy with Dottore”, is what you had told him. But even the little baby knows you look more weaker (even if it’s been a few days, your condition had still worsened anyways). So perhaps he tries to draw you adorable silly drawings, and also show you his “safe” experiments. (Lest he get a scolding from Zandik or the clones again…)

‘m giving you so many chu chus n cuddles like always smooches hehe gonna make your cheeks all rosy pinky! <33 I hope you have a lovely day n spend it with a smile like always!

-from your dear boo boo bear 🎐 anon! ౨ৎ

HELLO MY DEAR 🎐 ANON!! Ahh I'm so glad your results were okay! I'm so happy for you and for getting through all of this! *hugs you* And I LOVE this brainrot! ❤️ I've always brainrotted about this idea hehe because angst of Dottore failing... teehee.

Dottore, being the skilled scholar he is, never fails to concoct new medications and treatments for you in hopes of creating something that sticks, along with the actual cure. These meds always go through a few rounds of testing, on his experiments of course (as you said before) but sometimes there is only so little that can be done. After all, your body is very different from the average person's. So, there have been times when the things he's given you didn't agree with your body very well, but they were never anything drastic. However, that was until this instance.

Dottore is a confident man. He's smart, he plans ten steps ahead, and things always go exactly as he orchestrated or predicted them to. So that's why he expected nothing different to be with this batch, maybe you'd have a few minor side effects that he'd note and so on, but he expected you to be fine, to then whine about how all of this was so much work, and he'd only hum at your complains to which you'd pout at. In the beginning, you seemed fine. Looked fine, your vitals were fine. But in a matter of minutes, when you got off the operating table, all of that changed, as dizziness and blurriness.

You tried to wave off Dottore's concern, observing your worsened state immediately, but your resistance was futile as your knees buckled, though your husband caught you before you could fall. Your skin was on fire, sapping away your strength as you couldn't even bring your hand up to stop your hacking and coughing. You try to speak but everything hurts far too much for you to muster your words, and you can barely process the muffled voices, footsteps against the floor, and hands running over your body (he must have called a few segments in too.) You pass out soon after, unable to see the blank look on Dottore's face, how his hands don't shake, how he is unfaltering and flawless in his steady work to counteract what he put in his body. Unable to see what only you can see - what he's really feeling underneath everything.

You don't wake up until a few days later, to which Dottore spent trying to figure out where he went wrong constructing this medication. If only he had been more careful, if he had run more tests, perhaps this may not have happened. Perhaps he wouldn't be the cause of your even weaker state. But even when you wake up, you just smile at him, assuring him that you're okay. You'd never blame him. Even though this was all this fault. He despises it sometimes, how you're so kind and forgiving. It's a weakness.

Sure, Dottore has a lot of work to be done, and having you around so much serves as a distraction to his work... but he'll let it slide. Just for a bit. At least it is a reminder to him that you're not permanently sleeping again.

Zandy, despite being left out of the loop many times, mostly due to your insistence that he not be burdened with your own troubles, can still sense something is wrong after a while. Yes, he's a child, but he's a rather smart one. And a very attentive one when it comes to his favorite person, you. He can see how much time you spend for "check-ups" with the segments and Prime now, far more than what it used to be... how you always look exhausted but force yourself to perk up and smile around him, assuring him you'll play with him "next time", even though numerous "next times" have passed. Zandy doesn't know the exact details, but that's okay, he can see what you're going through. So obviously he's going to try and make you smile! In the time he's not with you, he spends it doing all the things you like to do too. Drawing you two together of course, in a happy little house in Sumeru where the two of you play outside together all day with no worries! Maybe he even tried baking by himself to surprise you with something yummy (quickly stopped by a segment before he hurt himself or perhaps blew up the lab.) Maybe the child should take up sewing... maybe he can sew a little Puffttore squish ball for you! Oh, but you always told him to stay away from needles... well, it's okay if you don't find out until after the fact, right?

#smooches talks #🎐 anon #fragile reader <3 #dottore love notes <3 #zandy bb <3 #giving you a million more chu chus!! and cuddles!!#i always luv luv ur brainrots!#only one post for tonight bc im eepy

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dmercer91 · 8 months

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an idea i had was nhl!ranger reader is like fairly aggressive, yeah?

like she’s had to hold her own, and prove her own bc she’s a woman.

but against this one team, she’s absolutely brutal.

and maybe it stems from her old rivalry with one of the players, OOOH OR MAYBE one of the players almost ended her career in juniors??

i made a new player up for the sake of this being friendly for people who cherish the usa wjc players however they play for the hawks just cause.. she’d so have a vendetta against the hawks idk i feel like she’d despise them

like she’s just here to serve cunt, fuck shit up and curse a bitch out

also, i picture charlie with a scar in the front of her eyebrow, like where the hair still grows straight rather than to the side, due to where her injury was

this…. turned into a full fic. blame my perfectionism and incessant research, idk. there’s also minimal jack which is why the title is njd

the full story | hooked au, njd

u-20 world juniors, december 26, 2019. preliminary rounds

line brawls were your forte. not only were they fun, and usually harmless, but they also gave you a chance to prove that your physicality wouldn’t be an issue if you got drafted to an nhl team.

in a canada vs usa game, the rivalry usually called for some penalty minutes

currently, your helmet was nowhere to be found, your gloves were voluntarily discarded, and your nose was bloody.

you’d concentrated on keeping the us players away from nico, and the guy who’d originally slid into the net and tripped him had taken most of your attention.

tyler shaw- a bigger centre who’d been drafted to chigaco the year prior.

you were holding up fairly well, until he took a stray stick off the top of the net and used it to shove your hand off his jersey.

you slid, turning so your back was facing him, and he cross checked you in the back of the neck, sending you forward and face first into the goal post.

a final time, he did the same near your shoulder blades, effectively keeping you down on the ice.

the room was spinning and the lights were too bright for your liking- you felt like you were ready to faint and throw up at the same time

dawson was quick to switch his fighting to shaw, quickly looking over at you to see if you were still conscious.

jamie drysdale had left what was essentially an aggressive, ill intended hug with the guy he’d picked up for the scrum to pull you over to the boards, giving an alarmed look to the coaching staff.

you weren’t responding to your name, or charlie. you were squeezing his hand but it was your only true sign of consciousness

most of the players had pulled away from their respective fights, staring over at you and jamie with looks of concern, some looking at shaw with looks of confusion- including his teammates.

when dawson was satisfied with his defence of his friend, he skated over, flexing his fingers in pain from punches.

he made it over a few moments before the teams medical staff, taking your hand and having jamie back away a little.

“you in there, char?” he took your neck guard off, knowing you’d always felt like it suffocated you.

you blinked, looking at him. he smiled, squeezing your hand.

“nico fell,” you murmured, worry laced in your voice for your goalie

“he’s padded like a marshmallow, rocky. i think you fell a little harder,” you smirked at his nickname for you, a mock of your likeness for fights.

that was all the reaction you had to anything for the rest of the night- a small grin.

when staff made it to you, you’d gone nonverbal again and you seemed to be slipping in and out of yourself. sometimes it looked as if you’d been out, couldn’t feel a thing, and other you were squeezing dawsons hand so hard you were cutting off circulation

the medical team had dawson and jamie help you off the ice, dawson staying with you in the ambulance since he’d been ejected from the game due to his defence of you.

when you were finally allowed visitors, the doctors let you explain to dawson- who you made promise to dumb it down and kid friendlify it for your little brother.

your neck was broken from the initial check. the doctors weren’t sure if you had paralysis until you became verbal again and calmed down enough for them to run necessary tests.

they concluded that other than some tingling in your arms and feet- you should be able to walk and eventually skate just fine.

you required surgery to fix the broken bones it your neck, but luckily the break did no damage to your spinal cord, so you’d be able to make a recovery.

they told you that other than your lack of ability to concentrate, which you assured them came long before the injury, you had no physical or memory related issues cause of your concussion

due to you presumably losing consciousness and going nonverbal after the blow, as well as your headaches and two consecutive seizures in the ambulance, they did imaging tests to see if you had any skull injuries or bleeding

you got lucky.

there were many opportunities for the injury to be career ending, even fatal- but the hospital assured you that you’d be able to return to mundane life in a week or two, after the concussion symptoms, and that you could return to sports once your neck was healed and you were cleared by your women’s league.

dawson was your caretaker, never leaving your side cause he was so anxious that the doctors had missed something- he needed to be ready to help if you needed him.

you tried to keep it lighthearted, despite your boredom and your throbbing pains

“my face feels eight feet wide,” you complained, eyes fluttering shut.

dawson stayed quiet, looking over at you for a moment and then returning to making you your lunch

“at least the several pints of blood coming out of my head made me look sick,” you chimed, smiling to yourself and pouting when dawson paid no mind

“mercer. you’re killing me, dude,” he sighed, coming over and sitting on the couch next to you.

“i was worried about you, y/n. i didn’t leave the waiting room other than to pee, i had nurses bringing me food cause they saw i wasn’t leaving. on the ice, i tried to make jokes but i was losing it,”

you leaned your head on his shoulder to the best of your ability with your neck brace, taking his hand.

“you’re still stuck with me. i’m too stubborn to die,” he finally cracked a smile, leaning his head onto your head.

“im holding you to that,”

january 5th, 2024. chi @ njd

you’d been dead silent ever since you’d gotten back to the dressing room since warmups.

tyler shaw had been marinating in the press box all season, and the team had chosen today to finally give him a spot on the fourth line.

when you saw his last name on a jersey you already weren’t fond of gliding around on the ice, your head immediately went back to the game that could’ve ended your life,

he’d been suspended from competing in iihf games since the incident, and his career had gone down hill from there, but the fact that he was still allowed on professional ice irked you to no ends.

dawson knew well enough why you looked like you were about to throw up, but your boyfriend and your captain were confused and concerned.

nico nodded for dawson to leave him to talk to you and sat in the now empty cubby, nudging your knee pads with his own.

“you alright, charlie?” you smiled softly at the ground, your soft spot for nico already grounding you.

“i’m okay, neeks,” you rested your head on his shoulder, the padding making for a comfortable spot.

“back in november you got enough penatly minutes against these guys to beat jack for the next two seasons, so how about we cool it today, yeah?” you giggled, wrapping both of your arms around nicos one that he used to pat your knee

“no promises. haven’t seen shaw since my last juniors game,” nicos lips parted, not having seen shaw on the ice during warmups and not clocking that your vendetta against the hawks was partly due to him.

“never mind. do crime, have fun, all of the stuff a captain absolutely wants to see,” he kissed your forehead and you laughed, looking up at him with a bright smile

“thank you, ni. your silly accent and questionable rule bending made me less prone to crimes,” he grinned.

“if you need a minute tonight, you’ll tell me?” you nodded and he hummed, staying in dawsons cubby while lindy spoke and up until it was time to get back onto the ice.

#hooked au!#e’s 500 celly!#e’s fics #jack hughes #dawson mercer #nico hischier #hockey imagine #nhl imagine #new jersey devils

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hungerofhadarr · 1 month

Text

Okay . She mass on my gate until the Baldur is effected . Is this Anything .

Like I said b4 … Wyll is a human Spectre with artificial biotics that Mizora funds and controls . Hidden face of the Alliance he probably doesn’ t have any identifying symbols but he’ s . He is the Omniblade of the Frontiers . You feel me ? He would be a Sentinel honestly … the class just fits him the best … Rarely gets actual assignments but always has access to a ship , aid , evac , etc due to being a spectre and also … Mizora … she is not letting him go he is her magnum opus .. like I also stated b4 the artificial biotics definitely have very Adverse and Dangerous side effects , so he has to keep up with a lot of medication and routine hospital checks and medical testing , but he also cannot have it removed unless Mizora willingly removes it , because she is the only one that really can ..

Karlach . Okay . So . She has to be like a Cerberus Super Solider Test right . Like she was under Project Zariel and the whole point was to make an extremely powerful and unbeatable soilder , leading to still having her heart replaced with a mechanical replacement . That is still killing her because it’ s not like it was anything more that a prototype , and she escaped before it was fully fixed and updated so she could live without needed it monitored and constantly tweaked 24/7 .. now I know that this would make her human but the vision of Krogan or YAGH KARLACH is also fucking dope .. sorry Yagh Karlach is like cocomelon to me right now . Honestly I think that’ s gonna be the only way . Yaghlach …. Full solider class , something like a Dragoon without biotic whips

Astarion is Ardak-Yakshi . Look me in my eyes and tell me I am wrong . I am not . Um I think huntresses are like . The asari term for infiltrators … he kinda has to be that . When he was being transported to the Monastery , the ship got attacked and Cazador was the one to “ save him “ . Now , here’ s where I am pondering . Cazador can be another Ardak-Yakshi , targeting others when they are being transported to the monasteries , and is trying to like . Set up his own personal army of them . You know how Morinth says that Ardak-Yakshi are the perfect future of the Asari race ? Yeah . He’ s taking that to heart . OR . Or . He can be a scientist . Human , maybe , or whatever . But he is a non-asari Fully fixated on Ardak-Yakshi and trying to understand how it develops and how he can utilize it . Can he somehow develop something to mimic this power , can he work backwards to recreate it … etc etc

… Lae’zel should be a Prothean survivor . I was kinda going back and forth between Quarian or Batarian , but she would be a fucking Prothean !!!!! Avatar of go fuck yourself . She would be similar to Javik and be an avatar of something very similar . Revenge , I think . I think she would choose Revenge to be what she represents. I mean , Protheans and Collectors echo Gith and Mindflayers to Be Clear and Frank .. Prothean born near the end of her original cycle and was forced into a cryopod .. ohh wouldn’ t it be fucked up if Voss gave up his pod for her ? Like he knew they would need her and her youth and her ability to adapt for the next cycle and made sure she would survive .. ORPHEUS . Ohh okay . She thinks that he was a betrayer and ratted out Prothean resistance groups but she learns through having access to the archive and with new research that he was the last standing against indoctrinated groups trying to betray a save zone … yeah … Vlaakith is like . Sovereign . And keeps trying to speak to her through the collectors and trying to convince her to join them . She also probably preys upon her fear of being forgotten or failing her duty .. Ohhh fuck yeah

Gale is . Okay I have Two Ideas . The most ‘ correct ‘ one is that he is a Drell biotic who would be like . A wandering scholar ? Like his purpose is to gather knowledge and experience and bring it back to Kahje . Mystra could be the one he serves in a Compact , alongside other drell like Elminster .. he’ s been sent off world after getting too cocky and overstepping in the eyes of Mystra , and he needs to go learn humility before he can return back . He’ s an adept .. trying to translate the orb … either it is Kepral’s Syndrome and he’ s gone without care for it for a concerning stretch of time , or it could be related to biotics in some way … how ? Good question . But honestly it would make the most sense if he did have Kepral’s Syndrome in place of the orb . Okay second idea that I won’ t go with but i like . Geth Gale ( chose the name Gale based on the definitions of both a strong wind and an outburst ) who is now an outlier Geth .. MYSTRA was like . A group name for his collective mind until he was cast out from the group . YOU GOTTA ADMIT YOU GET THIS VISION TOO

Shadowheart . I really like her as a Quarian .. Quarian who was taken away from the fleet and raised outside of it .. being told all her life her family gave her up and traded her so they couldn’ t be exiled from the fleet .. So she lives in full resentment of them and the fleet and other Quarians she sees on pilgrimage because of how cruel it was for her to not have that , that her family gave her up and never tried to contact her , that the fleet would be so cruel to her and allow such a trade off ... but that isn’ t actually true . She was forcefully taken and raised by non-quarians , mostly because they saw her as a chance to try and understand the Quarian immune systems and responses and use that research for riches … if they can reverse engineer a way to artificially boost immune systems and make Quarians pay a random for it , then.. project SHAR . That is what I’ ll call it . That is also why her hand is constantly injured they’ re running tests and using that wound like a controlled variable . Aylin and Isobel are Quarians too , and Aylin has been on a hunt to find Shadowheart since she learned of her kidnapping .. she’ s the team medic but also the engineer … spirit guardians are still a thing they are drones that shoot rockets at you

#bg3 #mass effect #wyll ravengard #karlach cliffgate #astarion ancunin #lae’zel of crèche k’liir #gale dekarios #shadowheart #bg3 wyll #bg3 karlach #bg3 astarion #bg3 lae'zel #bg3 gale #bg3 shadowheart #hey …. how we feeling about this …#long post

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