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starfleetbotanist · 3 years

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Physician, Heal Thyself (But Not Always)

🌹

It had been stupid, even he would admit that. Academy students were typically supposed to avoid bar fights. But Cupcake had been talking smack, and he'd had a few too many, so he had allowed the inevitable to happen. What he hadn't expected was for six other cadets to decide to use him as a punching bag. More surprising, though, was Bones.

He'd vaguely heard Bones trying to reason with his assailants before the roar in his ears drowned him out, but a fist to the stomach is a much more pressing matter than a pacifist doctor trying to tell you logic you don't want to hear, so he'd more or less written him off. That is, until he saw a cadet fall at his feet and turned to see his friend wading- and punching- through the crowd towards him.

He leapt at one of Cupcakes cronies as he landed a solid punch to Bones' face, causing the man to stumble back, a protectiveness he hadn't felt since Tarsus rising in him. But Bones regained his footing and gave as good as he'd gotten, before finally reaching Jim. Then he grabbed him by the collar of his uniform and dragged him from the bar, much like a mama cat with her errant kitten.

He stared at him, stunned, the entire way back to their room, Bones loudly scolding him about safety and rules the whole way, wiping blood from his now evidently broken nose. A sick feeling overcame him. What happened now? Was Bones going to leave, like Sam had?

He found himself dumped on the couch in an ungraceful heap as Bones' angry footsteps carried him to the bathroom and back. He sat on the coffee table, and Jim was relieved to see his medkit resting on his knee. He was (mostly) a model patient as Bones scrubbed at his cuts with antiseptic before using the portable dermal regen.

"You've got too damn good a brain, Jim, to go and get it knocked around by fools like that, y'hear me?"

He blinked. No, he hadn't heard him. Upon realizing that, Bones rolled his eyes before reaching over and lightly slapping his head- a move too gentle to actually hurt, and which he immediately followed with an affectionate ruffle of Jim's hair.

"This, your brain. Use it."

With that, he got up and headed back to the bathroom. Jim followed on his heels.

"That's it? You're not... More angry?"

"Jim, I knew when I signed up to be your friend there'd be risks. If a bar fight's the most danger we get in together I'd be surprised."

"But you got hurt!"

"Yeah, and you owe me for that."

He stopped in front of the mirror, opening his case again and finding the regen and a hypo. He reached up and, with a grunt, popped his nose back into place. He swore as he turned the hypo on himself, eyes watering.

"Scratch that, you really owe me," he said through gritted teeth.

"Sorry," Jim replied. He meant it. He hated seeing Bones hurt.

"Just-- use your head next time. Okay?"

"Yeah-- yeah, okay, Bones. I promise."

"Good." He washed the blood on his face and hands before turning back to face him. "Then we can forget about it."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that."

"Okay. Thanks, Bones."

"Anytime, kid."

🌹

Nyota held her wrist to her chest, waiting in the academy clinic. She had hurt it in combat class that day, but thankfully not too badly. The clinic was understaffed that day, and she had told Christine she was fine waiting. It was just her and two other cadets in the waiting room, after all. Not everyone was quite so patient, though.

One of the others, a command cadet, was complaining loudly, drumming his fingers on the arm of his chair, and bouncing his leg in agitation.

"How much longer is this gonna take?" He asked when Christine opened the door to call another patient back.

"Doctor McCoy or Doctor M'Benga will be able to see you soon, sir," she answered. "We will get to you as soon as we can."

Nyota prided herself on her ability to read people, and what she saw from the other cadet was not encouraging. He jumped up to his feet, crossing over to Christine with surprising speed.

"You can't just come back here!" She said, positioning herself between the cadet and the door.

"Watch me!" He snapped, grabbing her shoulder and shoving her out of the way.

Nyota rose, but she didn't need to interfere. Just as he was stepping into the hallway, he ran face first into Doctor McCoy, summoned by Christine's shout.

"Didn't you hear the lady? She said you ain't gettin' in here!" He snapped, though Nyota could see him running a clinical eye over the cadet. "Easy now. Looks like you're in withdrawal. How many stims have you taken?"

"None of your business!" The man snapped, and before anyone could stop him, caught McCoy on the side of the head with a right cross.

Christine leapt in, then, getting him into a safe hold and grabbing his arm to pin behind him as McCoy called for M'Benga to bring a sedative.

"Dammit," he swore as the other doctor handed him the hypo. "Sucker punches harder than he looks."

Once he was sedated, security called, and a treatment plan discussed for the over-use of stims to get him through the command courses, the cadet was taken to Starfleet Medical for a proper detox.

"You okay, Chris?" McCoy asked. Nyota had come to Christine's side as the cadet was taken away. The two had been friends since their first year.

"Just fine," she promised. "Didn't even fall. What about you?"

"I'll be fine," he shrugged. "Happens sometimes. Nothin' the regen can't fix."

"You might want to get on that before it swells too much, Len" M'Benga said. "I can finish up here."

"It'll hold," McCoy insisted. "But you can take that patient we just called back. C'mon, Ny, I only need one eye to see the swelling in that wrist."

"Only if you fix your eye, too," she threatened, following him back to one of the rooms.

"Wrist first," he said, taking out his tricorder. She answered his questions, let him strap the regen unit to her, and stared him into submission until he began treating himself while they waited.

"Are you sure you're alright?" She asked once they had both finished.

"Ain't that my line? Any residual pain?"

"None, thank you. Now answer me."

"I'm okay," he promised. "Not my first rodeo with someone hyped up on stims, and it won't be my last."

"Can't say I envy you."

"Yeah, well, it happens. Now, you be careful in that combat class, okay? Stretch right, and be careful which moves you use on which partners."

"I will. Thanks, Len."

"Sure, Ny."

🌹

"Scotty."

He looked up from the manual he was reading at the sound from the bathroom door.

"Ah, Doc! What can I do for you?"

"You can take a break from straining your eyes and come have some coffee."

He laughed, lowering the PADD he was reading from.

"Aye, that sounds good. What're you doin' up so early?"

He followed him into his room, where he could smell fresh coffee brewing. Like many things, McCoy seemed to prefer real coffee, and while Scotty tended to be more of a tea man, he never turned down real foods or drinks.

"Haven't been to bed yet- don't tell Jim or Spock."

He poured them both a cup, handing Scotty one of them and motioning to the sugar and creamer he'd set out.

"Aren't you the one always telling the crew the importance of a good sleep schedule?"

"Yeah, and that's why I'm askin' you not to tell on me," he grinned.

"Can you not sleep?"

"No, not really. I've been goin' over that last accident in Engineering. I've written up a few training proposals, and wanted you to read through them and tell me which you think'll work best before I submit them."

"Have you been working on this all day?"

"Since my shift ended, yeah."

Scotty saw him take two tiny pills from a bottle on his desk and take them before rubbing his eyes.

"Sorry, headache. Ibuprofen. Been at this a little too long, I think."

"Why push yourself like this, then?"

He scanned the proposals, an interdisciplinary first aid course specific to Engineering and the various injuries and accidents that could happen, a triage proposal to better prepare medical staff for what to expect when an accident is called in, and new safety guidelines and equipment inspection schedules.

"Well, every second counts, you know that. The sooner we get this smoothed out, the better. It could be life or death, and I'm not about to play games there."

"You never do," Scotty grinned, picking up a stylus and making a few notes. "I like this so far. I hope you made a lot of coffee, because I have a few ideas, too."

"I hoped you would," McCoy grinned, and the two sat down to begin work.

🌹

"You called me, Doc?"

"Mr Sulu, perfect timing!"

Doctor McCoy was standing by a selection of plants, studying them intensely.

"The botany department sent these up. They're medicinal. But the labels got mixed up, and we don't really know what's what."

"That's unusual," Sulu grinned, looking down at the selection. "She's usually more organized when making deliveries."

He began to catalogue the plants, calling to mind their uses.

"Fever few, plantain... Several of these are for stopping bleeding."

"Yeah, that's what we're hoping for. We're training our medics to learn other ways to heal in the field."

"Good idea," Sulu nodded, fixing the lables.

"Thank you for the help," McCoy grinned. "Oh, Lieutenant Lyle brought another plant, but I'm not sure what it does. It was bigger than the others, so I set it in the office. Little bastard scratched me, too."

Sulu laughed, plucking a plantain leaf and handing it to him.

"Chew on that for a minute and put it on the cut, that will help."

He heard McCoy's thanks as he went into the office. He gasped. On the desk was a rare Andorian Passionflower- spiked where its Earth counterpart was not, and blue instead of purple. In place of a label there was a note, and he recognized the handwriting.

"Ben?"

"Surprise," McCoy said, stepping in. He had the chewed leaf against his finger. "We were asked not to tell you anything."

He opened the envelope. It was handwritten anniversary card. He smiled, warmth filling him.

"Happy anniversary, you two," McCoy said, patting him on the shoulder. "There's minutes on my computer for subspace communication. He's waiting for you to call."

"Thanks, Doc," he answered, wiping sudden tears from his eyes.

McCoy patted his back again before leaving him to his call.

🌹

"Doctor?"

"Mhm?"

"Why did you do it?"

McCoy looked at Chekov, who was eyeing wound on his arm with deep concern.

"Reflex," he lied, finishing ripping his uniform shirt into bandages. He turned his eyes away, focusing on tying off and tending the wound until the ion storm ended and they could contact the Enterprise.

"Captain Kirk is right. You are a terrible liar, sir."

He snorted, tying off his makeshift sling. He'd taken a rather severe cut from a spear from one of the inhabitants of this supposedly uninhabited planet. The spear had been aimed at Chekov, but he had managed to push the kid out of the way just in time.

"Captain Kirk can mind his own business."

"Doctor..."

McCoy sighed, leaning back against the cave wall. Chekov joined him, still looking at him with wide-eyed worry.

"You remind me of Joanna."

"Huh?"

"I did it because you remind me of Joanna."

"Who is Joanna?"

"My daughter. My whole world. I don't get to see her often, but she's my pride and joy."

"And I remind you of her?"

"Yeah. Can't explain it. It's probably because you're so young, or some misplaced guilt about not being there to protect JoJo that makes me want to look out for you instead that the psychologist really doesn't wanna think too much about."

He shrugged, closing his eyes.

"That, and I'm a doctor, and your senior officer. Not gonna let you get hurt if I can help it."

Running for their lives had worn him out, it seems. Chekov studied him for a moment before placing his head on his shoulder.

"You are very much the papa I always wanted. My grandmother, she told me stories about him. He was a good man. If he was... If I had known him longer, I would have liked for him to be like you, Doctor."

He felt a strong hand ruffle his hair.

"Get some rest, kid. I'll keep watch."

Chekov smiled, allowing his own eyes to close. He fell asleep wondering if McCoy would laugh or be angry that he had become, as the captain said, a "mama bear."

🌹

Spock stood beside Captain Kirk's hospital bed, arms folded behind his back. He had come to check on the progress of McCoy's serum on their friend. But, also, he was here to check on McCoy. Nyota had expressed worry over him that morning after visiting.

"You want a seat, Spock?"

He turned as the doctor entered the room, a cup of coffee in one hand and a PADD in the other.

"No, thank you, Doctor."

McCoy set the coffee aside, moving to the bed to compare the data on the PADD to the biobed readings. As Spock watched him, he began to really notice the state the doctor was in. His eyes were bloodshot, ringed in dark circles, his hair sticking at odd angles, as though he had run his fingers through it many times. He hadn't shaved, and was looking rather gaunt.

"When did you last sleep, Leonard?"

"Does it matter, Spock?"

"I think it would matter to the captain. And... I admit to a concern, as well."

"May miracles never cease," McCoy muttered, and they both knew what miracle he was praying for.

"Doctor, you must rest. The captain's status is unlikely to change in the time it would take for you to eat and sleep."

"I can't, Spock. Not right now."

"Why?"

"Because he needs me."

"He needs all of you, Leonard. Not a shell of yourself."

McCoy's shoulders sagged at that.

"I don't want to leave him," he admitted. "I promised I wouldn't leave him."

"You do not have to leave him. You could bring a cot into this room, perhaps. Shower in the en suite, and eat the meals Nyota has been bringing you."

"When I try to sleep, Spock, all I can see is him in that chamber. In that damn body bag in my medbay. It... It hurts, Spock. In a very human way, it hurts. It- this grief, it's like a wound, Spock."

"As you so often tell me, Leonard, you are a doctor. You treat wounds, better than most. You are healing the captain. The best way to heal that grief is to continue to do so. But if you damage yourself with overwork, you will not be able to care for him to the best of your abilities."

McCoy was silent for a moment before nodding.

"You're right... Thank you, Spock."

"It is... My pleasure, Leonard."

When he visited again that night, he found McCoy asleep on a cot not far from Kirk's bed, PADD still in hand. He had showered and shaved. The plate Nyota had sent him was now empty, and someone, presumably nurse Chapel, had covered him with the knitted blanket that he usually kept on the couch in his office.

Spock allowed himself to feel relieved, and quietly retreated, turning down the lights as he did so. The next morning, Kirk woke up.

🌹

"He may be a little disoriented when he wakes up," M'Benga told the assembled officers. "It was touch and go there, and we nearly lost him a few times. But I do believe he will make a full recovery."

"You are sure?" Chekov asked, his face pale. Sulu had his hand on his back for support.

"Yes. He is stable. Now all he needs is rest."

"Thank you," Kirk spoke up, gripping one of McCoy's hands from his place beside his bed. "Bones couldn't have been in better hands."

"You remind him of that when he wakes up," M'Benga laughed quietly, his calm manner helping ease the tension in the crowd. "You can talk to him now, too. Even if he doesn't hear you, it'll help him to have friendly voices around."

Scotty coughed to hide a relieved sniffle, and patted Kirk's shoulder amiably.

"Why don't you start, Captain?"

Kirk nodded, thinking.

"Bones, you know we all love you, right? So you've gotta come back to us. It's not the same without you here yelling at me."

"Indeed, Doctor. Your colorful metaphors are... Missed." Spock looked down the line of visitors expectantly.

"Da, and you promised to let us talk to Joanna next time she called you!" Chekov watched the sleeping man eagerly.

"Yeah, she and Demora are going to space camp together," Sulu pitched in. "If you don't wake up soon, who's gonna tell them how dangerous it is?"

Nyota laughed at that, and everyone (save Spock) grinned.

"Aye, Len. And you're gonna have to be the one to tell Jaylah what happened, you know," Scotty said. "Otherwise the lassie's likely to steal a ship and come all the way from Earth to make sure you aren't still hurt."

"What about you, Uhura?" Kirk asked. "You know how he likes to hear you sing. Why don't you sing one of his favorites."

"Good idea," she nodded, thinking. "I know just the one."

Soon the medbay was filled with her soft, comforting voice.

"I'll keep you safe..."

🌹 This was a long one! Thank you for reading! This was based on a prompt by @hlabounty96 ! I hope you enjoyed! 🌹

#leonard mccoy #james t kirk #jim kirk #spock #nyota uhura #scotty star trek #pavel chekov #hikaru sulu #star trek aos #star trek #my writing

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rosy-cheekx · 3 years

Text

Hypothetically

@aspecarchivesweek Day One: Wish

I wish to make you happy.

Jonathan Sims/Georgie Barker

This was it. Jon fiddles with the pale green collar of his shirt; eyes focused resolutely on the version of himself in the mirror that hung on the wardrobe in his student flat. Tonight’s the night I’m going to ask Georgie to…

He shakes his head to himself, wincing at the end of that sentence. He knows what he’s going to do tonight, what he wants to do tonight, what difference does vocalizing it make, even if it’s just to himself?

Glancing down at his watch, Jon chews his lip. He was meeting Georgie at the bar in thirty minutes. The bar was ten minutes away…He should probably leave now, right? In case he needed to find them seats or use the loo or if the walk ended up taking longer than the dozens of times he’s been there before? He doesn’t want to be late, that would just make everything worse-

Huh. He’s pacing. Jon forces himself to stop and stands in the middle of his bedroom, wrapping his hands around his sides, thumbs digging into his back, feeling his diaphragm push his ribs out and in as he breathes, focusing on the solid movement of his body. Why am I so nervous? His therapist had talked to him, years back, about identifying sources of his anxiety. He hates that it works, hates that it means confronting his own brain and acknowledging his faults.

Is it the bar? No. This bar, The Addison, is one of the few pubs Jon actually enjoys. It’s always got a bit of a draft so even in the busiest nights it never feels like the heat of the room is inescapable. Jon’s not the biggest fan of beer, per se, but he can knock back a pint with the best of them, so long as he has something in his stomach first, and the pretzels and beer cheese The Addison makes are his favorite. The thought of them make his stomach growl.

Is it Georgie? No. He has a lot of strong feelings for Georgie, feels comfortable being himself around her. He drops his stuffy academic persona and can be his regular, less-stuffy-but-still-academic self, the one who speaks to her flatmate’s cat in a higher-pitched voice but still with proper Queen’s English, because “they deserve to be treated with respect, don’t you Madame?” She cares about him, too, he knows that, and he’s enjoyed their months as friends and the past few weeks they’ve been a couple.

As a couple…He feels a twinge of anxiety in his chest that makes him flap his hands instinctively, a quick stim to ward off the impending doom building in his belly. Ah. Found it. He and Georgie have only gone on a few dates: a coffeeshop on a Saturday morning, and a movie night in Georgie’s flat, an evening which had been planned to be a movie marathon of Georgie’s favorite bad horror movies, the B and C rated films that were truly just a vehicle for half-naked women sprinting down alleyways and gratuitous fake blood effects. Any excuse for them to laugh over popcorn and predict the plot points, except Jon had fallen asleep partway through the second movie and had woken up the next morning on Georgie’s couch, a worn fleece blanket over his slumped form. But this? This was a proper night-time date, involving alcohol and a walk home and, Jon was sure, a “mind if I come in?” and it would be different because it wasn’t a friend he was talking to, it was his girlfriend and there were expectations and he was a virgin and didn’t want to disappoint her because he knows Georgie is experienced and she deserves to have a good time and it’s his responsibility as a boyfriend to do that, even if he’s terrified because he hasn’t before—

Woah. Jon takes a deep breath. That was a lot. He did a full Sims, as Georgie would say, letting things snowball in his head until he explodes. He closes his eyes, wringing his hands again, just a gentle flutter at his sides. It’ll be fine. She’ll understand. She has up to now. Georgie has understood his weird studying habits, his deep aversion to spiders, his need to be early everywhere, his sudden shutdowns and stimming habits and how he loves to be held and touched. She can certainly handle him being a nervous virgin.

Jon slips a condom in his wallet and then, hesitating, tears off two more and throws them in. In case he messes up the first time. Checking his watch, he sees its quarter to eight. If he leaves now he’ll only be five minutes early. Perfect.

The Addison is a healthy dose of busy on a Thursday night in late autumn, the hum of conversation and music floating over Jon is just the right amount of chaos for him to reach equilibrium, feeling enthused by his nervous energy. He’s sitting at the bartop, spinning the cap to his beer bottle, watching it whirl, whirl, whirl, clattering on the stained wood and spinning all the while. It’s entrancing.

Georgie is speaking to him now. She smiles warmly at him and feels his stomach flip. God, she’s gorgeous when she smiles. Her hair’s in braids this month, pink and orange weaved tightly together, contrasting with the tight black turtleneck dress she wears. He catches himself staring at her profile, the planes of her face animated as she tells him a story about her professor and his alleged vow to fail her this semester. His face is warm. See, he soothes himself, you are attracted to her. You’re just nervous.

“Jon. Jon?” Georgie’s eyebrow is quirked up and she’s smirking at him, like she’s caught him in a lie. “Everything alright? You’re staring.” Jon feels another rush of blood to his cheeks, prickling at how exposed he feels to have been caught up in his thoughts about her.

“Oh-uh, yeah,” he nods, hesitating before reforming his own features into a smile. “I-I was just thinking. Well. How nice you look tonight.” Georgie isn’t immune to compliments, he knows this for certain, and its reaffirmed as she ducks her own head briefly, smile shifting from teasing to soft.

“O-Oh. Thank you, Jon.” She sips her drink, preferring something a little harder than Jon’s beer, usually a vodka cranberry she can nurse throughout a night or throw back when she needs a little something more in her bloodstream, fogging her mind. “You look really nice too, you know. Your green shirt is my favorite.” She gestures to the button up and he nods absently, glancing down at it. When he looks up, her face is close to his, hand weaving into the curls by his ear. He sighs and leans into the touch, feeling a shiver run through him when they kiss. He tastes the cranberry on her lips, vodka on her tongue, her liquid courage enthusing him as well as her (not that she needs any excuse to be bold, really), and makes a choice.

When they pull away for air, he grins wildly at her, the face he makes when he knows he’s about to a very Not-Sims thing. When the bartender makes his rounds again, a pale man in a black button-down, Jon orders his own ruby-red drink. Georgie’s eyebrows meet her hairline as he does so, folding her hands together. “Who are you and what have you done with Jonathan Sims?” The chuckle behind her voice balances the sternness of her words. He just grins at her and takes a sip of his newly-acquired vodka and cranberry juice, the dry flavors curling on his tongue and making his head feel light and warm after even half the glass.

Jon is drunk. It doesn’t take a genius to see that. He knows he’s a lightweight and even the divine soft pretzels he’s been munching on since his arrival can only handle so much. He’s finished his second hard drink on top of the beer and is feeling properly light and airy. Like a cake, he giggles to himself. He’s having fun, chatting with Georgie about life and cats and uni and their plans for the future. Jon’s entertaining a couple of options, a few research jobs in London, and Georgie is poking his side, making him laugh as she teases him about his studying skills being useful for something more than exams.

“At least I have studying skills!” He says, pushing her off his side, linking their fingers together to inhibit her from poking him again. “You can’t ride my coattails forever, you know.”

“I won’t have to! It came in today.”

“What did?” His thoughts are clouded, edges of anxiety smoothed over into something more ignorable.

“My microphone! So I can start my podcast about spooky shit, remember?” Georgie squeezes his hand and finishes her own drink, far along as Jon in liquid consumed but not nearly as affected as he is. “I’m going to uncover the world’s mysteries and teach my faithful audience about the supernatural. I’ve got the title nailed down, too.” With her free hand she paints a banner in the air. “What the Ghost. ‘Cause it’s like ‘what the fuck’ and I can talk about all sorts of weird shit.” Georgie swears a lot, and more when she’s tipsy.

“Can I see it?” The words are out of his mouth before he can think them through. “The-the microphone, can I see it?”

Her eyes widen and she nods, “Oh, yeah of course! I haven’t been able to test it out yet, so maybe you can help me.”

Jon insists on paying. So does Georgie. They resign to splitting it, each vowing to pay next time and knowing they will never outsmart each other.

Jon doesn’t realize how drunk he is until he’s walking the five minutes to Georgie’s flat. Tucked into her side, the air is cool around his face, the wind an icy hand cupping his cheek. Everything feels smeary, liquid, warm. Hands in the pocket of the peacoat he knows he bought for the aesthetic and not to keep him warm, he fingers his wallet, feels the circular outline inside, and feels…nothing. Good. He can do this.

He’s always loved Georgie’s flat. It is warm, all orange and yellow lamplight, houseplants, and a cosy cluttered look. Her roommate exists only in residuals, the sneakers she leaves by the door and the dishes she does at odd hours more proof she exists than anything like conversation. Jon respects that. Georgie’s room is a lot like the rest of the flat, which means it’s a lot like Georgie herself. Warm, dark, soft, and scattered, with hidden elements of cat hair no matter how many times she cleans. Jon throws his coat over his desk chair and collapses onto her bed, reveling in how her pillows feel under his back. He takes a moment to greet the weird smile-faced stain on her ceiling before sitting up, watching Georgie fold herself next to him and open a carboard box, taking out a chunky black microphone with a USB cable. She brandishes it like a sword, before angling it to her face.

“This is BBC 4 with breaking news,” she intones into the microphone, putting on a crisp RP accent and lowering her voice an octave. “Ghosts and ghouls have been discovered at King’s College, Oxford, residing as university professors. News anchor Jonathan Sims has the story. Sims?”

Jon presses back his giggles and leans into the character, accent already pretty close to the posh voice she puts on. “There’s been an error, actually. They’ve been the students all along. Journalism student Porgie Parker has been found out to have been a ghost. These discoveries were made after her boyfriend, English Literature student…Bonathan Bims, realized she had never picked up a textbook because she couldn’t! Her hands went right through them!” By the time he’s gotten to the word textbook, Georgie has pounced on him, microphone forgotten as she wrestles him to the bed, alternating between poking and tickling him until he lets the bit trail off, voice a mix of giggles and pleas for her to stop.

When she lets off, Jon abruptly realizes the intimacy of their position. She’s straddling him, her hands pinning his wrists to the plush pillow behind his head. They’re both breathing hard, cheeks flushed, and smiling.

Jon isn’t sure who started the kiss, but it doesn’t really matter. His arms are wrapped around Georgie’s neck and her hands are cupping his face, cool to the touch, nails lightly scratching his jawline. The bed is soft and Georgie is warm, pressing in from all sides, and it feels good. This he likes.

She kisses along his jawline and he feels heart rate pickup, flexing his hands (when did he curl them into fists?) as she presses against his neck. He wishes vaguely she’d put her hands back in his hair, he likes that soft feeling of pressure on his scalp. The smile on the ceiling is smirking at him now, the curve of the water stain looking more vicious than it had earlier.

Her hands are on his chest, she’s unbuttoning his shirt. Her hands feel too cold now, the shiver running through him one of anxiety, not desire, and Jon is sitting up before he knows what he’s doing. Fuck. Georgie, the saint, backs off him and kneels beside him on the bed. Jon’s hands flit to the undone buttons, fingertips circling them, suddenly unsure what to do.

“Are you okay, Jon?” Georgie’s voice is softer, eyes searching his face as she wedges her hands underneath her knees. He watches her wrists, the swing of her braids as she cocks her head, anything to avoid her eyes.

“I-” he gestures to her vaguely. “Y-You know I haven’t before, right?”

“Oh. Oh.” Georgie nods, understanding maybe a little better than he expected. “No offense, but I kinda figured, Jon. Not in a bad way!” She backpedals. “I just figured, you know, there’s no rush.”

“I mean, there’s a little of a rush,” he admonishes under his breath. At her hum of confusion: “You know, the whole-” he gestures again, as if he could pluck the word from the air. “-third date…thing.”

“Jon,” Georgie sighs his name, voice soft and so patient, a voice he doesn’t think he’s heard used anywhere else. “There’s no rule saying what we have to do when. Or how. Or ever, for that matter. It’s no one’s business what we do except ours.” She reaches out a hand, waiting for a slight nod, before taking his thin hands in her own. “Is that why you drank more than usual today?”

Jon nods, feeling a sag of relief spread throughout his body. “I just- I want to make you happy.”

“You do make me happy, you twit. That’s why we’re friends and it’s why I’m dating you.” She presses a kiss to his knuckles. “Contrary to popular belief, I don’t need sex to be happy. Is it fun? Yes. But not necessary.”

Jon frowns, chewing on his lip and eyeing the window of her bedroom, tracing the rectangle with his eyes over and over again. “I-hmm.” Georgie watches him search for words; she knows how he ticks well enough to know they’re coming if she waits. “What if, hypothetically, I never had sex with you? Ever.”

“Well,” she gave his hands a light squeeze. “Hypothetically, I’d be totally okay with it, though I’d ask if you were asexual and make sure we had appropriate boundaries.”

“Huh?” The word draws him back to her face, the deep brown eyes that search his own. “Asexual. Like, no sex?” She nods, again, ever-patient. “Huh. Asexual.” He drops the pretense. “Maybe.”

Asexual. The word felt good as he rolled it around in his mouth. He traced the letters with his fingertips in cursive against his thigh as Georgie let go of him, rolling off her bed to pull on sweatpants and a t shirt instead of the dress she was wearing

“Let’s look into it, if you want. Together.” Georgie grins at him now, rye and warm. “I will have to ask you if want hypothetical crisps, because I’m hypothetically fucking starving.”

#aspec archive week #jonathan sims #Georgie barker #cw alcohol #cw internalized acephobia #/confusion #just some good confusing feelings #based on my own experiences? said who?#also! important note: Jon's stims are reflective of my own habits #just sayin #asexuality #ace #ace flavor: who knows? not even Jon

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thetravelerwrites · 5 years

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Sorka (Bugbear) Lemon

Rating: Lemon Relationship: Female Human/Male Bugbear Additional Tags: Exophilia, Bugbear, Interspecies Romance, Sex Content Warnings: Babies, Children, Infants, Mention of Birth Words: 4301

A super sweet commission for @floral-and-fine based on her monster match featuring the same characters! A single mother returns to work after giving birth to her first child, and uses a professional caregiver service to take care of her daughter while she works. The person they send is not exactly who, or what, she expected. Please reblog and leave feedback!

The Traveler's Masterlist

Despite the difficulties, I really enjoyed my job.

It can be hard for a bugbear to work in childcare, a little because of our imposing physical appearance, but mostly because of the old tales about my kind back when our existence wasn’t widely known to the public, before the secluded monsters decided to integrate into mainstream society. There used to be bedtime stories about us that said bugbears ate children, that we took them away and devoured them if they were bad or disobeyed their parents. We were a cautionary tale.

The thing about fables like those is that there is usually a seed of truth to them. Back then, bugbears did take children, but we took them from bad homes and abusive families, protecting and often raising them as our own. In bugbear culture, children are the most precious creatures and our top priority, even if they were not our own children. It’s one of the reasons why so many of my kind went into childcare after the Integration.

But prejudice often prevented us from getting jobs as caregivers. Many humans still believed the old stories and are distrustful of us around their kids. Some bugbears worked in monster-only childcare programs for this reason, but I wanted to prove to people that though we were monsters, we weren’t villains. I wanted to work with humans and be an example.

It took me some time to find a childcare program that would allow me to work with humans, but Ironblood Interspecies Caregivers jumped at the chance to take me on. My extensive education in child psychology and fifteen years experience with non-human children was something that made me highly sought after in the field, and Jukah, the owner, was excited to have me working for him. He’d recently expanded onto his daycare with an in-home care service for infants and special needs children. He was just as passionate about children’s welfare as I was, and becoming part of his team gave me a wonderful feeling, as though I was finally doing what I’d set out to do.

Even then, it wasn’t smooth sailing. The first few humans who had interviewed me turned me down almost immediately. Several wrote on the rejection form that the sight of me would scare their child, which was something I’d heard many times before, but it was still kind of a punch to the ego.

Eventually, I was hired on to take care of a non-verbal five-year-old human boy with autism named Liam, and I loved it. He didn’t care what I looked like and nor did his parents. In fact, petting the fur of my arms was one of his favorite stims, often falling asleep in my arms as he did so. He had hyper-fixations that he loved sharing with me, and though he couldn’t communicate, he was very smart. He did have violent episodes of self harm, and he was incredibly strong and could be difficult to manage during these episodes, so my size combined with my thick fur was crucial in helping restrain and calm him.

I worked with Liam’s family for six years until they moved away to Philadelphia for his mother’s work. God, I missed that boy. Keeping a professional distance was all well and good in theory, but it was impossible not to love a child one had devoted six years of their life to.

After they left, I had to go through the arduous task of finding a new family that needed a caregiver. Jukah sent out my resume’ to parents needing help, and to my surprise, I was selected within a week. Jukah had a policy of not sending pictures or mentioning race on the resume’ to prevent bias, but I still expected the first interview to go just as poorly as they usually did. I still went, hoping for the best.

Liana McAvoy was a single mother about to return to work after giving birth to her first child and daughter, Ruthie. Ruthie was seven weeks old and had laryngeomalacia, which concerned Ms. McAvoy to the extent that she wanted one-on-one care in her home. Laryngeomalacia was a condition in which the larynx was a little too big and caused the baby to make wheezing noises as if they were struggling to breathe or suffocating, but from what I knew, it was actually completely harmless and didn’t hurt the baby at all. It was still distressing to listen to, so I could understand Ms. McAvoy’s worry.

The day of the interview, I arrived at the apartment rather anxious. I was fully expecting Ms. McAvoy to reject me outright and just wanted to get it over with. The door opened and I saw the same expression I always saw when prospective clients first saw me: shock and alarm. She even took a step backward.

“Hello,” I said, ignoring the reaction and pressing forward. “I’m here for the childcare interview.”

She jumped a little as if goosed. “Oh, yes,” She said a little breathlessly. “Of course, please come in.”

I instinctively bent down to pass through the doorway; human residences were definitely not built with people like me in mind. As I made my way in and before I could speak further, I heard a high-pitched squawking.

“Oh, excuse me,” Ms. McAvoy said, looking apologetic. “She must have woken up.”

“No problem at all,” I assured her, smiling a little. This, oddly, seemed to ease her, and she smiled in return before she went to retrieve the little one.

In the moment she was gone, now that I was less anxious, I had a moment to realize something: she was gorgeous. Thick thighs, big butt, cute belly, small on top. Taller than average, for a human that is. She had most of her wavy brown hair pulled back into a pony tail with the ends bleached. She was wearing a flirty floral sundress that ended at the knee with a matching cardigan that complimented her skin tone perfectly and wore very little makeup on her adorable face, only a light mascara that brightened her eyes and a blush pink gloss that accentuated the pout of her lips. I gulped a little. She was exactly my type, physically at least, and I didn’t know how to unpack that information.

Attraction to clients wasn’t uncommon; there were company policies specifically because of it. As long as one could ignore the attraction, be professional, do their job, and not do anything inappropriate, then there shouldn’t be a problem. I was nothing if not professional.

She returned with the most adorable little baby girl, and any residual anxiety I had left evaporated. Ruthie looked a lot like her mother, though her eyes were blue rather than brown.

“She’s adorable,” I said. “Seven weeks, right?”

“Yeah,” Ms. McAvoy said, gazing down at the wiggle bundle proudly. She looked up at me. “Would you like to hold her?”

I was taken aback. Clients were always so guarded around me with their children, especially parents with infants. I could feel my face split into a wide grin.

“Absolutely!” I said, perhaps over-enthusiastically, but I was excited. This was going much better than I anticipated. I could see she was still a little nervous about it, but I held my hands out for the baby anyway.

She put Ruthie in my arms, and I cradled her carefully. “Well, aren’t you beautiful?” I said to her. She squealed and squeaked at me, waving her little fists. “Aren’t you sweet? You’re such a pretty little thing, aren’t you?”

“Do you have kids?” Ms. McAvoy asked me.

“No, no,” I replied, still playing with Ruthie, tickling her chubby cheeks. “But I was the oldest of twelve. Practically raised my youngest siblings.”

“Well, she certainly likes you,” Ms. McAvoy commented with a smile. “And you come highly recommended.”

I nodded. “I really care about my work,” I said. “Kids deserve the best.”

Her smile began more appreciative. “When can you start?”

My head popped up in shock. “Really?”

“Yeah,” She said, her smile widening to show her pearly teeth. “Ruthie’s taken a shine to you, so I gotta listen to the boss.”

I laughed in relief. “Thank you! I’m really excited to work with you. When do you go back to work?”

“In a week, and I’m dreading it,” Ms. McAvoy admitted.

I nodded. “That’s normal, especially considering this is your first child. It’ll be hard, but you’ll be okay. And so will she,” I said, bouncing Ruthie to make her squeak. “I promise to look after her as if she were my own.”

“That’s definitely a relief,” Ms. McAvoy said, sighing. “Would it be okay if I asked you to come a day early so that I could observe you with her? Just for my own peace of mind. I would pay you for the extra day, clearly.”

“Of course. I want you to feel as comfortable as possible. I’ll be here bright and early Sunday morning.”

“Thank you so much,” She said, holding out a hand.

I transferred Ruthie to my shoulder and to the hand took shake it. “You’re very welcome, Ms. McAvoy.”

“Please, call me Liana,” She said with a smile.

After the trial day on Sunday, during which Liana watched me with Ruthie, changing her diaper, putting her down for naps, listening to her breathing, doing a small check up to make sure when she inhaled that her chest wasn’t struggling to take in air, which would be an indication of breathing obstruction, but she was fine. After Liana was satisfied with me, she returned to work the next day, still anxious but less worried about Ruthie’s well-being in her absence.

For the next few months, things went smoothly. Liana came to trust me implicitly and was happy to leave Ruthie in my care when she worked. Liana was also in childcare, being a elementary school teacher, and it seemed to give us both an innate understanding of each other.

Liana was patient and kind, and my attraction to her was still there, especially when she wore those cute floral dresses and let her hair fall free to frame her face. I did my best to stamp down the attraction, but I couldn’t help admiring her beauty in silence.

A few months in, I got a call from Liana saying she was sick and staying home, but that she’d need me to come anyway. She wanted me to care for Ruthie so that she didn’t accidentally get her sick. She left a key in a hiding place for me to let myself in.

I unlocked the door and called, “Hello? Liana, it’s Sorka. Are you home?”

“Yeah,” A hoarse voice called from the back of the apartment. Liana’s room. I’d made it a point never to go in there, but I headed toward it. The door was open.

Inside, Liana was laying on her bed, looking pale and miserable, and Ruthie was in a covered bassinet, asleep. Liana was wearing a surgical mask and doctor’s gloves. I smiled a little at the sight.

“I hope this is okay,” Liana said, a little bit of a wheeze running through her speech. “I’d feel better if you were taking care of her while I’m sick. I’m scared to death of passing it on to her.”

“It’s no problem at all,” I assured her. “Would you like me to move her out of this room?”

“Yes, please,” Liana said. “I put her in here so I could watch her, but I don’t want her picking up any germs from me.”

“I gotcha,” I said, taking the bassinet and moving it gently outside of the room. “Can I get you anything?”

She laughed, which ended in a cough, and waved her hand at me. “It’s not your job to take care of me. Go on, you two. I’ll be asleep for most of the day, anyhow. It’ll be like I’m not even here.”

“If you say so,” I said with a smile. “But seriously, if you need anything, give a holler, okay?”

“Mm-hmm,” She said sleepily, taking off the surgical mask and gloves and getting as comfortable as possible. She was asleep within seconds, and I stood in the doorway, watching her breathe in and out. I felt a soft smile on my face. Even all snotty and sick, she was lovely. I covered her with her blanket up to the chin and closed the door.

I moved Ruthie to the other end of the apartment, playing with her and keeping her occupied. She was four months now and was able to sit up with support and I was working on teaching her some basic sign language. It was still too soon for her to be able to comprehend or make the signs herself, but starting early meant she could recognize the signs early as well.

It was nearing lunchtime, and after feeding Ruthie her bottle and putting her down for a nap, I looked in on Liana. She was sitting up in bed, mask and gloves on, going through paperwork on a lap table.

“What are you doing?” I asked. “You’re supposed to be resting.”

“I still have to provide the substitute with my curriculum,” She said. “It’ll only take a few minutes. Where’s Ruthie?”

“Down for her nap,” I replied. “Well… I’ll leave you to it, then. Still, get some rest.”

“I will, I will,” She assured you.

I ordered lunch from a local sandwich place and made a split second decision to add some soup to the order as well. Looking in the cupboards, I found some tea, and there was lemon and honey I could add, as well.

When the food arrived, I put the soup in a bowl and added the tea and a glass of water and took it into Liana’s room. She was asleep again, the papers strewn across her torso. I smiled again and shook my head. Moving the papers, I set the tray down on the lap table and gently shook her.

“Liana,” I said softly. “Wake up. Lunchtime.”

Her eyes opened and she groggily looked down at the spread in front of her. Sitting up a bit, she looked up at me blearily.

“Did you make this?” She asked.

I laughed. “I wish. I’m a terrible cook. I ordered it. I did make the tea, though. I thought this would be good for you.”

“I said you didn’t have to do this.”

“You did,” I agreed. “But I did it anyway.”

She laughed, a sweet smile on her face, as she picked up the spoon. “I wish you had been Ruthie’s dad. He never did stuff like this for me.”

My heart did flip-flops in my chest. “You don’t talk about him much. And I’ve never heard you mention visitation. I hope you don’t think this is out of line, but is he involved much with Ruthie?”

“Not all that much, actually,” She said sourly. “He’ll come and see her once in a blue moon, but he never stays long. If it were for the fact that he had to pay child support, I doubt I’d ever hear from him.”

“I’m assuming it ended badly?”

She nodded. “He was cheating and got another girl pregnant,” She said. “His son, Ruthie’s half-brother, is almost the same age as her. They’re only about a week apart in age.”

“Oh, god,” I replied, wincing. “What an asshole.”

“Yeah,” She said, sipping the tea. “He didn’t seem to think he’d done all that much wrong, but I was willing to give him a second chance. Except that he chose her. Five years of my life, down the drain.” She sighed. “Well… at least I got a really pretty baby out of it. She’s definitely worth it.”

“I’m sorry,” I said.

She shook her head. “It is what it is.”

I talked to her while she ate, and afterward, she grew tired again. I took the empty dishes and closed her door, washing them before going to check on Ruthie.

She was sick for a full week, and I stayed for as long as I could each day, making sure that both Ruthie and Liana were well cared for. Liana finally gave up her protests on the third day and let me nurse her back to health. Eventually, she went back to work and the routine reasserted itself.

Another few months passed. Ruthie’s laryngeomalacia faded to nothing, and I expected Liana to put her in a normal daycare, but she insisted on keeping me around, saying that Ruthie was used to me and that she didn’t want to introduce her to a new environment that might distress her. I didn’t mind: I loved Ruthie and reveled in any excuse to stay close to Liana.

My attraction was growing into more than that and I knew it. I didn’t want to admit that I was falling for her, because that meant I’d have to quit working for her. And I didn’t want to tell her the reason for my resignation because I didn’t want her to think I was disgusting or a pervert. I knew staying was dangerous, but I kept telling myself that I was a professional. I would keep it under control and not do anything that would put my job or position at Ironblood’s in jeopardy. I would ignore my feelings and keep a professional distance.

Even still, there were things that were hard to ignore, like the curve of her small breasts visible beyond the low neckline of her dress as she bent down, the sway of her hips as she moved and swished the hem of her dress, the sweet loving smile reserved only for Ruthie, the lilting sound of her voice when she sang a lullaby, the way the sunlight haloed her hair as it touched it early in the morning. I had to mentally shake myself every time I caught myself staring at her, hoping that she never noticed.

School was close to being done for the semester, and Liana was more busy that normal preparing for the end of the season. One day, she surprised me by coming home early.

“Half-day?” I asked as I was feeding–well, attempting to feed–a jar of string beans to a wiggling Ruthie.

Liana looked harried. “No, I forgot some of my tools here and it’s been a hell of a day. I’m using my lunch break to just get out of there and take a breath.” She sat down heavily in the opposite chair and kissed Ruthie’s head.

“Hungry, then?” I asked. “I can make us some sandwiches.”

“Sounds great, I’m starving,” She sighed. “Is Ruthie done eating?”

I snorted. “I think she’s eaten all she’s going to.”

“I’ll put her down for her nap, then.”

Liana emerged from Ruthie’s room, closing the door behind her, just as I was putting the top piece of bread on both sandwiches. “Roast beef okay?”

“Anything would be okay,” She said.

I didn’t realize she was directly behind me until I turned and walked right into her, knocking us both to the ground. The plates with the sandwiches clattered onto the floor and the food went in all directions.

“I’m so sorry!” I said, pulling myself up on my hands so I didn’t crush her. “Are you okay?”

But she didn’t answer. Her eyes were trained on her lips, her pupils blown wide. She was breathing heavily and her hands clutched the fabric of my shirt over my chest, as if she didn’t want me to get up.

At that moment, I was standing on the precipice of a dangerous cliff, and without hesitation, I jumped.

My mouth came down on hers, kissing her hard, all the pent-up tension I’d been feeling over the last few months finally being released. She kissed me back just as hungrily, grasping the fur around my ears and holding me in place. Her pelvis moved underneath me where I lay between her legs, and my cock immediately began to stiffen. This was going very fast, but I couldn’t stop it. I wanted her so badly.

She reached between us and unbuckled my belt, unbuttoned my pants, and unzipped the zipper, reaching inside to touch me, and I gasped in her mouth. As soon as I opened my mouth, her tongue slipped inside and she moaned. I broke apart for just a moment to slip off her panties, and I was back down, kissing her lips and face and neck as I pressed myself to her dripping entrance.

“Yes, yes, yes,” She chanted. “I’ve wanted this for so long.”

“So have I,” I said as I slicked myself down before pushing myself inside. She moaned loudly, but still tried to keep her sounds low. I had wanted to start slow and ease into it, but I couldn’t. I went hard and fast right out of the gate, desperate and needy. She seemed to appreciate it, though, wrapping her legs around my waist and spurring me on. I braced on one arm and palmed her breast over her dress with the other, my lips on her neck. She reached down and pushed the back of my pants down with both hands so that she could grab handfuls of my butt, squeezing and digging her fingernails in.

I could feel her having the orgasm underneath me even though she was trying hard to stay quiet. Her inner walls spasmed and her body went rigid, her eyes closed and her mouth open. I couldn’t slow down, I needed to get to that crest myself. It had been a while, and I had wanted her so badly.

I popped up onto my hands and looked down at her, and she gazed up at me, opening my shirt and running her fingers down my fur as my body slapped against hers, moving her back and forth against the floor a little aggressively, but she seemed to enjoy it, judging from the wide smile on her face. I could feel myself close to cumming just as her eyes rolled back again, her legs tensing around me. I felt myself release into her and my body locked up over her. All I could do was ball my fists and ride the wave back down until I collapsed over her, and she put her arms around me.

After the euphoria had worn off, my immediate next though was: What have I done?

A little awkwardly, I climbed off of her and helped her up. She went into the bathroom silently to clean up and I wiped myself down with a wet paper towel before straightening up my clothes. Liana came out of the bathroom just as I had finished cleaning what would have been our lunch off of the ground.

“So,” She asked sheepishly. “You’re in a lot of trouble now, aren’t you?”

I leaned against the counter. “Quite a bit, yes.” I sighed and took her hand. “I didn’t intend for this to happen. I meant to stay professional.”

She shook her head. “I think this was a long time coming, honestly. I’ve liked you for a really long time. I tried to stay distant, but it’s hard when you’re such a sweet guy.”

I laughed a little. “I’ve liked you, too. But I can’t be with you and keep my job.”

“I know,” She said. “I know how important your work is and I’d never do anything to jeopardize that. Well…” She trailed off and gestured to the spot on the floor where the two of you had made love. “I mean, not on purpose.”

“I know,” I said, pulling her into a tight hug. “I guess this is my notice of resignation from this position.”

She sighed shakily and clung to me hard before letting me go and giving me a kiss. “I’m sorry to see you go.”

The same day, I went to Jukah’s office and knocked on the frame of the open door. “Boss?”

Jukah was an orc, a little guy even by human standards due to a condition he had, but he had a very strong presence. He was the kind of guy people wanted to listen to. A leader.

“Hey, Sorka, what can I do for you?” He asked, shuffling papers to the side to devote all of his attention to me.

“Well,” I started reluctantly. “I need to quit the McAvoy job.”

Jukah cocked his head to the side. “Why? You love that position.”

“I have feelings for the mother,” I said, a little hesitant to meet his eye. “I can’t ignore them anymore.”

“Oh, I see,” He said, linking his fingers together. “How far has it gone?”

I scrubbed my face and was unable to answer.

Jukah sighed. “Look, I… I understand your position, but I have the reputation of the company to think about.”

“I know, sir.”

“You’ll be removed immediately from the home and reassigned.”

“I understand, sir.”

“And for god’s sakes, give it a week at least before you go back to her. And bring her flowers.”

My head popped up. “Sir?”

Jukah was shaking his head in a don’t push it kind of way, but continued. “No contact for a week. Then go back with flowers. And take her to a nice place. That’s an order.”

A wide smile broke out on my face. “You’re the boss.”

A week later, I followed orders and showed up with flowers in my hand. I attempted to apologize, but she kissed me before I could. Then she, Ruthie, and I went out for a nice dinner. Then, after laying Ruthie down for the evening, we spent a proper night together, just like we’d always wanted, only this time I planned to stay.

I was home again.

Since my work is no longer searchable, please do me a favor and reblog this story if you enjoyed it. Help me reach a wider audience!To help me continue creating, please consider buying me a Kofi, becoming a Patron, or donating directly to my PayPal!

Thanks for reading!

My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

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blackevermore · 3 years

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[Oc Hour] Reve Nakahara (BNHA)

[Made in Kisekae 2019]

x Name: Reve Nakahara // 狸無中原

Reve (狸無): French: Dream // Japanese: negative，no，not; lack，have no Nakahara (中原): Middle

x Age: 18 (currently) x Birthday: May 18th x Gender: Male x Height: 177 cm (5'10") x Hair Colour: Black x Eye Colour: Lavender x Blood Type: O-

Background

x Born the second child of two powerful heroes and was loved dearly, growing up he didn't really care for the rest of the kids in his kindergarten class developing their quirks or have physical changes. He was rather quiet and played by himself. It did bother him that he knew he had a quirk but wasn't sure what they were. When his older sister started to show off her light quirk more and more he did become more distant out of unknown jealousy. Soon he fell into his parents and sister shadow and was thought to be quirkless.

x Middle school was when he thought about being a hero. By then he figured out his quirk but still wasn't sure how they would work in a combat sense. His sister was his main support in training before he got to high school. She would teach him how to fight and helping him reach newer limits with his quirk. Of course she couldn’t help him much due to how different their quirks were and the few accidents they had, but she did her best. His parents became worried that he was unstable and tried to shelter him from trying to over due it. The only person they knew that had the same quirk as him had died long ago When it was time for his sister to leave and become a pro hero he had just finished middle school leaving him all alone again.

x He managed to prove not only to himself but his parents that his quirk were not scary and he would be okay by getting into UA. But his parents were still very worried of what would happen if he messed up. This caused a fight to break out the day before he was to go the UA and he unknowingly split himself from the reality of his parents. For the whole journey of his school life he has been living in a different reality from his parents trying to train and understand his quirk so he can go back to the reality he actually belongs to.

x His goal is no longer to become a hero (though he still has that dream) it’s to apologize to his parents and go home.

x Alias: Real-Lo x Quirk: Shifting Reality

Quirk and abilities

x Shifting Reality - long range (limited): The user can shift themselves or others visual/mental reality into another reality or plane of existence and/or pulling existences from other planes into residual reality.

Has to touch in order to use his powers on other people

Quick teleportation

Mirror Dimension (stable as of now)

The Crystal Room (unstable) is a really bright place that only Reve can handle, he only uses this side of his power for really bad situations or if its the only option left.

Can do temp heals by replacing your mental state with one from a few second before your attack. This will not last but its enough to get people to safety

Weaknesses and Limitations

x Dazed and confused: As of now he is able to control the lost of time and space he feels from jumping realities but he still has a sense of being out of place. He’ll forget dates, times, people for a short period of time. It used to be for days and his school days would become a mess and he be sent to recovery bay a lot but now in his third year he can manage through it a lot better.

x Coma like state: When extremely exhausted to the point of passing out he loses the last 30 days of memory and has to sleep two days straight to recover. If over extended he is taken to out of school for professional aid.

x Anger at himself: He blames himself for having a unstable quirk that broke his family apart and at times they leak out and he locks himself away in his own mind. This could also happen when a an unexpected mission happens while at school. If his friends are hurt to the point of death he will fucking lose it.

Power: ★★★★★ Speed: ★★☆☆☆ Technique: ★★ ★ ☆ ☆ Intelligence: ★★★★☆ Cooperativeness: ★★★★★

Battle Ability: ★★ ★☆☆ Mental: ★★☆☆☆ Heroism: ★★★☆☆ Social Abilities: ★★☆☆☆ Cooking: ★★★★ Romance: ★★ ★☆☆

Personality

INFP (Introversion | Intuition| Feeling | Perceiving) "The Idealist"

x Although he may stay quiet and out of the light unless needed he cares. He knows that sometimes someone has to and that's alright to be that person. Due to personal issues, he doesn't like being alone as much as others would think. In his class, he is happy everyone actually gets along unlike some of the others, from which he heard.

x He will always listen, may not say anything back but everything you say will be accounted for whether it be now or later. He used to take people seriously when their emotions ran high and would shift bits of their reality to help them. Sometimes for the good and others the worst. He has learned that just because you say/wish for something doesn't mean it's suppose to come true.

x He is blunt whenever he is asked something. He believes that you will never grow or learn from things if the truth is twisted or stretch. He can be clueless that being blunt can hurt others but everyone knows he means no harm and actually means to help.

x He will work extremely hard not just for school but for himself. As one who doesn't care to become the greatest hero anymore all he wants to do is help others and more importantly fix his personal problems

Trivia

Is allergic bananas and green tea

He really likes gothic literature

Is prone to foot-tapping when anxious, stims

is the one hanging up memes around the school

is the platonic secret admirer: He leaves friendship notes in people’s desk or under their dorm doors. Everyone deserves a pick me up from time to time

#Oc Hours #Oc: Reve #bnha oc #oc

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fbipleasecomearrestme-blog · 7 years

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Please come arrest me for looking at porn I'd never act on. I'm simply a loser who has gone through almost every kind of porn cept gay shit. What can I say my hand is busy and women hate me. But I would love to be arrested, and on a completely separate note just leave me with a 180 page spiral binder and I will detail the piece of shit thievery from fake fuckin faggots from every facet of life. Stalking me as if I give a flying fuck about them, unless they have a pussy for me to fuck they can keep wasting time at Walmart and power diesel and Fontana California. Thinking because I snort drugs they can exploit me and steal when only vulnerability I've ever had that has been exploited to the infinite exponent is my heart. But I promise you that I will not be taking anymore of this and if you man up and tell me how you killed my dog I will expedite every chess move you faggots seem to think will work to break me. To murder me or threaten my family is to break me. You have until April 1st to continue playing these games and then I will take the most non violent approach I know to make every morsel of this fococta cookie cutter playbook you have and make sure that the lying thieving stealing malicious greedy scamming cocksucker who stole from me for at least the last 10 years, will never have a chance to finish another victim besides me. Im a peaceful loving person and I despise money and any fucking piece of trash who can befriend somebody no, who can become like a brother to somebody and sabotage their life for a few measly bucks. I will never die for money but I will die today for honor and respect and KONA. Come finish what you started so that a new game can begin while the gentle breeze of the Pacific ocean carries me to peace. This is your only option to murder me or leave me be. The progression from December to now has taught me a lot about myself and I will be a man who has perversions that are looked at as disgusting, who doesnt have experience with women, who is very insecure when it comes to sex, who has been used by women who were injected into my life to ruin me mentally and emotionally so you can ruin me financially. I will be this person lascivious, unable to please a woman like a negro adonis that has a mega appendage and rythym from all the drum beats in ofokoubatama Africa growing up. Because you are still a vile piece of shit who stole like a coward under the premise of caring and trying to help me as much as I tried to help u. Garbage ass dude that has acted on every single dirtbag action conjured up by "the family of yours" but I've never acted out or intentionally hurt any man woman or child. When I die still I rise. I can only wish you live 100 years or more and everyday is spent acting and forgetting what it means to be a human. One life to live and you are willing to give it up for something printed with plates and pink and purple colors. The irony that it's made from cotton says a lot about the evolution of the black plight. Yes sir don't let me be drug free and use 3 percent more of my brain because I will at the very least make sure you take those master lock protection pamphlets and read some of the fine print. You petty bitch, steal a bumper, a light a dpf. U aint the first and I wasn't surprised you were one of them who was joining in on taking from me. You've taken enough and given nothing back of substance. I don't care about anybody else far as I'm concerned who is anybody else? I know one name one face and one saggy baggy eyed coward thief. Gizmos and gadgets and bug placement in my living environments is petty like your lack of faith in cucumbers on eyes. No happy man has a face like that. So take your health wealth and thanks for your loving family BULLSHIT propaganda some place else. Take take take when I would have gladly given it all to you for my dog! Or once I paid the people who entrusted me with their money, which I always have made clear that u aint no partner until they are paid. U didn't care though cause it thievery was well into its senior years of residual payments from a trustworthy loving caring humanitarian to a materialistic self projecting self loathing validation seeker who truly thinks there is a price that can buy the title that drives his misdirected dirty coward filled moves. To be taken as a ELITIST within the ranks of other propaganda spewing self ritcheous fallacy believers who have been conditioned to view their lying cheating scheming ways as temporary truths that must be done for the good of the masses. Which masses? Well either all or just like minded enablers who buy into the illusions of grandeur so that they can sleep at night believing they truly are; all that is portrayed to those who have been carefully computed into numbers and algorithms because its the only way you trashy fucks can live with yourselves by removing the human aspect and seeing everything as formulas, and controlled experiments that output something quantifiable rather than felt as a fucking human. Hold on to that one fault line in my character that trumps all of which makes me the sucker you sucked a living from for a decade or more. I will die whether in a second a year 50 years knowing I planted more into the future of this world than I ever ripped from the earth. Have fun you bitch ass motherfucker. At least I can always say I've been man enough to say how I feel and be hated for it by some. Whatever I ever said to anybody I said to their face and respected them after for it. You I have no respect for, respect is not forced its always assumed and just like the beginning of a school year, it either is austained, grown or as majority share would argue it only is taken away like an A to a C. Laugh smile and plan as you read this but know that I'm also laughing cause bitch boys need their network of psuedo phallac strokers in order to feel superior. But you have the internet untampered and a group of deceitful greedy fuckers who continue to prove operant behaviors negative reinforcements and the spoils from it prove its worth the attention to detail. But any engineer will tell you that given a large enough sample of data that has very minimal variations in its repetitive stim/response/output only one unforged chain link at some point will guarantee the expected outcome to be as Murphy would put it, positively absolutely can and will happen. Let's hope the best isn't behind you buddy and the rest is only inching you closer to an inevitable loss that is the polar opposite of the small window that you would consider peak, FINITE

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