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#also drawing this with a really bad cold was an experience

hazashiovo · 2 months

Note

G’day! Could I bother you for some Zuko hcs of him falling for a girl next door kind of girl during his time in ba sing se? If you still write for atla. Or with bolin if u don’t! (Can’t remember the name of his fav place rip)? Thank you so much!

I do write for everything that's on my list, especially Zuko ;)

Zuko x fem reader

When zuko first settled in Ba Sing Se with his uncle,he didn't expect an oddly friendly girl to take initiative in talking to him.

His cold demeanor didn't push you away from him,it really got him wondering, especially since he has a pretty bad image of himself.

Once he started leaving his guard down around you,that's when his feelings started to accumulate.

You would come to his uncle's tea shop almost daily, leaving a small present for Zuko. Maybe some rice cakes, or some cute little drawings. Just a way to show your affection for the boy.

You never asked about his scar,you didn't want to make him uncomfortable by bringing back unfortunate memories.

And he really appreciated that, he doesn't really like nosey people.

His uncle ships you two. Iroh also gives Zuko dating advice about how to talk to you,how to act and Zuko pretends he hates it,but secretly absorbs single thing Iroh says.

Each time you went out with Zuko was an amazing experience, learning new things about him.

Now let's say one day you didn't visit Zuko at all,which got him worried.

The next day same,wich is unusual,if you'd be busy the day before,you would visit and tell him,it's just something you do.

So he gets suspicious,and comes to your house to see if you're okay,only for your mother to tell him you've been attacked while making a delivery, everything you had was stolen.

Your parents would welcome Zuko inside to come see you.

He enters your room to see you lay in bed,hurt,but nothing very serious,just some cuts and bruises over your arms and so. He's bad at comforting,but he makes sure to tell you it's not your fault.3

And he is FERAL. After talking to you,Zuko asks your parents who did it,in which they say some raiders who have been bothering your family for a long time.

Safe to say,you never had problems with those people again.

He was close to you while you were recovering, bringing you your favorite tea,and claiming his uncle made him do it.(Which is bulshit).

Soon enough you got back to your usual routine,even spending more time with Zuko.

After you got better,he asked you out. Deciding that it's useless to waste more time on dwelling,and that he has to speak his heart.

After he confessed,you jumped on him, kissing him like there's no tomorrow.

And like that,he started dating you. He felt like never before,you gave him this warm feeling in his chest,and when you were not around he would be gloomy.

Iroh was so happy Zuko found himself a nice lady. And since then, it was unusual for you to be seen without Zuko,or him without you.

At one point in your relationship,Zuko spoke about the burn mark on his face,and what his father did you him.

Yes, he told you he's the prince of the fire nation,but he also told you he left that in the past. You trusted him with your life,and you made sure to let him know it.

He was so happy that you didn't judge him for what he did,and that made him trust you a lot.

My first Zuko request!

#zuko #prince zuko #x reader #zuko x reader #reader #fem reader #atla #atla x reader #aang the last airbender #aang the last Airbender x reader #fire nation #ba sing se #uncle iroh #iroh

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kurvinitty · 7 months

Note

wriothesley 👁️ 👁️ as your soulmate

( * ₊ 🦋◞ ˚ ) ⠀ ⪼ ⠀soulmate au drabbles. ( open )

tags. ⠀ ⪼ ⠀ 1.5k wc, reader works as an engineer, swearing lol, not proofread bc i'm eepy and going to bed now

notes. ⠀ ⪼ ⠀ listen to colors by halsey while reading this bc i think it fits rlly well !! anyway this may be ooc but do i care? no. i only care about he.

You can only see colour when your soulmate is with you and you’re touching. This gives a whole new meaning to them bringing colour to your world.

Who knew that out of all places, a prison would be where your world of grey would suddenly burst into bouts of colour?

As an engineer, you were stuck fixing & maintaining things more often than actually creating them. Your colleagues sometimes pitied you, as your already monotonous world made your job even harder. Those lucky enough to have found their soulmate are not only favoured by cupid’s bow, but also by whoever delegated your working tasks.

You wouldn’t lie — it pissed you off. Yet at the same time, you were aware that it was much safer dispatching someone who could identify a cable’s colour before installing them. However, that still did little to soothe your frustrations.

It’s also what had lead to you being stuck with more tedious tasks — maintenance and routine inspections. Despite all this, you still loved your job — and you’d be damned if your peers’ mocking pity would bring you down.

Ironically, it was due to them that you’d get what you were looking for all this time.

To beckon the call of help from the Fortress of Meropide was definitely not your field of expertise, yet you were still the one who answered. Due to the aforementioned reasons, it was also your first time setting foot on the premise. The prison’s damp walls added a chill to the already eerie atmosphere, and you now regret not taking your coat with you. The gardes were kind enough to escort you to the administrator’s office, saving you the pain of navigating this labyrinth on your own.

You flinch at the sound as the garde opens the door, holding it open for you to enter. Only now do you realise how tense you’ve been so far — the temperature undoubtedly having played its hand in it. Archons, you couldn’t wait to get out of this place.

With a thankful nod towards your escort, you step inside the room, Wriothesley already expecting you. Before you could fully enter, the man was already on his feet to receive you. Well prepared — as expected of him.

You have heard many things about the Duke, rumours both good & bad — but you’ve never had the chance to confirm them yourself. But now that you stand before him, you think you understand why everyone respected him greatly — no matter their personal opinion of him. At a glance, you could tell that an air of authority accompanied his every step, and you feel yourself subconsciously shrinking before the man.

Should he notice, he doesn’t say a word though. Quite the opposite, in fact, as he seems quite relieved when you finally arrive.

“You’re the engineer we requested, I assume?”

He speaks matter-of-factly, yet he also sounds… quite friendly? You didn’t know what to expect of the man, but you were sure it was closer to ice cold apathy, rather than the soft-spoken silk you experience now.

The first words this man had ever spoken to you, and you were already at a loss for words. Both because you didn’t know how to explain the situation, and also due to Wriothesley himself. While the first impression he made was better than expected, you were sure you’d somehow manage to piss him off in the next second. But then again, was it really your fault?

You clear your throat, fumbling over the words, before you settle on something to say. “Well, uh- yes I am.”

It’s evident how the Duke senses your hesitation and raises and eyebrow in question. Where he once looked at you in relief, his expression now falters and his eyes scrutinize you with suspicion.

Oh, you’re fucked.

Heat floods your body in embarrassment, your mind now drawing an even bigger blank as you desperately try to backtrack. “With that I mean— I am an engineer, but I doubt the work here will be within my expertise,” you sheepishly explain as the words escape your mouth in a single breath. What an absolute wonderful way to start off this interaction. “I am terribly sorry.”

You have half the mind to bow in apology, for an inconvenience that wasn’t even your fault. Doing your colleague’s dirty work was one thing, but your company being under staffed was a whole other issue.

But Wriothesley only shakes his head. Though you could swear you saw his face drop in annoyance for a split second, you felt like there was no need to worry when he next spoke. “It’s alright. I’m just glad there’ll be someone to look at it. This stuff has been giving me trouble all week already.” his hand moves up as he sweeps it over his forehead in exasperation, fingers combing through his thick dark hair. And for the Archon’s sake, you wanted to do nothing more to curse out loud when he did that. Even more so when you catch yourself examining his features more closely now, with your eyes lingering on his for a moment longer than they should. You wonder what colour his hair may be — dark, for sure — but there was only so much you could determine with a world full of grey.

You’re here to work, not to admire pretty men.

Pretty.

It took you more self-restraint than you’d like to admit to not slap yourself.

“Anyway, I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced yet,” the man continues, thus effectively pulling you out of your self-loathing session. His hand reaches out toward you, an invitation for you to reciprocate in kind. “Wriothesley.”

Surely, you wouldn’t be able to mess up a simple handshake, right?

You waste no time to clasp your hand in his & tell him your name, your dainty digits being engulfed by the rough and calloused skin of his own. And in that moment, you felt as if time had completely stopped.

It wasn’t due to the feeling of his skin coming in contact with yours. As much as one could sing songs about how the touch of your soulmate could invigorate & keep you warm for a thousand winters to come — it wasn’t the case for you. The catalyst for sure, but the event that followed was worth your song.

The moment your hand touched Wriothesley’s, you didn’t even feel it. The only thing you felt was the feeling when your world suddenly filled with colour. All it took was the blink of an eye, and you were in a whole different world. You stare at the man before you, your mouth hanging wide open while you were freeze in shock. There was so much new information to process, but your eyes & mind could only focus on him. You can’t exactly pinpoint all the new colours you see, but the first thing you notice is his eyes.

You weren’t the only one at a loss for words, and even if you tried — you could not pry your gaze away from holding his. His eyes don’t look much different than they did before, actually. They’re naturally blessed with a light colour, but now you notice all the different shades and hues within them. Does he know what colour his own eyes are? Do you know yours? For all you know, anyone you asked could have been lying to you so far.

You also notice how his pale face now gains the slightest bit of colour, and you wonder if he sees the same with you.

Honestly? If time would allow it, you’d stay like this forever. But of course, it’s the man you’re supposed to spend eternity with that would deny your wish.

“Let’s get started then, shall we?”

And he acts as if nothing happened.

You, on the other hand, are still in the process of digesting this experience. Before you knew it, his grip on your hand loosened, until it completely fades away and your vision is plunged back into an array of black & white.

“Wait, I—” The words slip out of your mouth before you could stop yourself, your body almost acting on it’s own accord to wrap your hand around his wrist again. Now that you’ve gotten a taste of this — of him — you desperately want your world to burn up once again, like a new hunger that begs to be satiated. Did he not feel the same? Did you just imagine it?

It seems like Wriothesley took notice of your crestfallen expression. He doesn’t back away, yet he doesn’t come closer either. Instead, he speaks — in a tone so beautiful & soft, you can scarcely believe it’s real.

“I think we’ve got more than enough time to talk later.”

#wriothesley x reader #wriothesley headcanons #wriothesley drabbles #wriothesley imagines #wriothesley fluff #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact drabble #genshin drabbles #genshin headcanons #( * ₊ 🦋◞ ˚ ) ⠀ ⪼ ⠀ esther's works.

723 notes · View notes

python333 · 7 months

Note

Hello!! I absolutely adore your 141 platonic fics, I litterlay giggle and kick my feet when you post new storys about it. Especially since they're always gender neutral! Litteraly always check to see if youve posted a new fic, but anways!

I'm a really big sucker for found family mental health fics, especially when I'm experiencing rough times. If your comfortable with it, I was wondering if you could make the 141 catch Reader self harming or maybe just seeing the self harm on their arms accidentally and comforting them. Always love a comforting found family fic on cold nights.

If it's easier, I really love really any of your hurt/comfort type 141 fics with all my soul and eat them up anytime you post them. Especially since there isnt much gn!reader and TF 141 platonic hurt/comfort fics. So if you aren't busy than that's another option I would love to see!!

If your uncomfortable with it then that's fine and you can just ignore this post! Make sure to take care if youself aswell author. You're absolutely amazing! 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

self-slaughter — python333

— — — —

synopsis reader is a medic and is caught harming themselves by the 141 in the medbay!

relationships platonic!taskforce 141 & gn!reader

characters cap. price, soap, ghost, gaz.

word count 6.6k

warnings self-harm [specifically using a scalpel], self-harm scars, dark thoughts [nothing too bad, but thoughts of pulling off your skin and harming yourself], painful wound cleaning [with iodopovidone], 2nd person pov [you/yours/yourself], usage of c/n [code name/call sign].

note hello anon!! i too am a big sucker for found family mental health fics, and completely understand this request, and i will happily write it for you!! a lot of this is based on my own experiences with this, so i hope that's okay and that you enjoy the fic!! as well as this request, i'll use this fic as an excuse to write a few prompts on my bad things happen bingo card, which will be displayed at the end of the fic! the prompt used will be: painful wound cleaning! expect wayyyy more angst after this LMAO. also, if this feels like glorification or anything else inappropriate for a fic like this, then please let me know! since it's mainly based on my own experiences, i assume it wouldn't feel *too* much like that, but still!

It gets kind of old after so long of doing it.

Almost like it’s a chore—as if stealing glances at your medical equipment, tools meant to save the lives of others, and wishing that it were being used to draw blood from your body was just an inconvenience. You complain about it in your head like you used to about school, like it was nothing more than some homework that was due a minute before midnight.

Right now, you’re alone in the medical bay. It wasn’t often that you were, typically two bumbling idiots would stumble in every few minutes talking about how they got injured while sparring, but for the past thirty minutes it’s been silent. While you appreciated the break from the constant explanations of why the soldiers you were to tend to had gotten injured, with the silence came very unwanted thoughts.

And with nobody to focus on came your unwilling lingering stare at the sharp scalpel on the small metal equipment cart that was just a few feet away from where you sat. It didn’t help that you felt oddly guilty today, either.

Well, the guilt wasn’t odd. You knew where it came from. It just felt odd, considering the cause for it happened a week ago.

The cause had been on a critical mission last week, where you were responsible for carrying medical supplies and ensuring the team’s well-being and general health. The medical equipment wasn’t particularly expensive or hard to get, but it was still incredibly important.

However, on that same mission, right towards the end of it, you’d been caught in the midst of an intense gunfight. Distracted by the heavy enemy fire, you dropped the small bag you’d been using to carry the medical supplies, and hadn’t noticed you did until it was too late. By the time you and the others were out and heading back to base, you had just realized you left behind the medical equipment.

All week, your fellow task force members had reassured you that it was okay and that it wasn’t that big of a deal, considering nobody got hurt. Still, even a week later, you’re hung up on it. Had someone gotten injured, what could you have done? You didn’t have any supplies to help them, so what would you have done then? Just the thought of that possibility makes you shudder.

The scalpel looks so tempting.

It’s not like you hadn’t used it before—you have the scars to prove you had, ranging from small lines that could be mistaken for cat scratches to tiger-stripe length cuts that make your thighs look as though they’d been mauled by a large animal. As elegantly as you describe them in your head, the visuals of them aren’t nearly as pretty. With the help of that scalpel, a few sharp needles, and some medical scissors, you’d successfully made it look as though a bear had tried to attack you and tear your legs off.

Ironic, isn’t it? A medic harming themselves?

Your job is to literally save the lives of others, and here you are, staring at the closest thing you have to a knife in the medbay. It’s become as easy as blinking for you—which is scary, honestly, the way you’ve developed a tolerance for cutting yourself and stapling your skin back together if you’ve cut too long or deep.

It’s no longer enough to just scrape something sharp across your skin and watch blood bubble up from the broken seams of your flesh, no, now you have to cut even deeper to actually feel anything. You have to feel the scalpel being buried to the hilt in your flesh, and you have to see the way blood spurts out of the self-inflicted wound after you pull out the tool.

You continue to stare at the scalpel, sure that you look like you’re in some sort of trance right now.

It looks so tempting. You can remember the last time you used it—three days ago, the longest you’d gone without it in a while. Similar to cigarette-addicts, you often tell yourself that you’re able to stop whenever you’d like—that you’re able to quit at any time. It’s a lie, and you know it, but you still like to pretend that it’s true.

You’re still staring at the scalpel.

Its sharpened edge reflects the overhead light, creating a bright glow that strains your eyes when you stare at it for too long. The metal of the handle is worn down from use, even though it’d only been in the medbay for maybe a few months—something nobody had questioned yet, thankfully. The clean blade, replaced just yesterday, had no traces of filth or grime on it, making it even more tempting.

You blink. You hadn’t noticed the burning of your eyes until you forced them away from the small knife.

You move your gaze to your lap, where you fiddle with your fingers, gently tugging at a hangnail that’s been lingering on your thumb for the past few minutes. As you pull on it, you feel the sting that it brings, though that sting now feels dull compared to the other things you’ve done to yourself.

It almost feels like a small pinch compared to the ways you’ve mutilated your thighs on certain nights that didn’t allow you the energy to do anything else, or the ways you’ve carved apologies in the forms of lines into your arms to try and gain forgiveness for your thoughts and temptations.

You pull the hangnail off completely and watch the miniscule droplets of blood bleed through your flesh and meet your skin and nail. Before you only had the energy to do your job and harm yourself, you would’ve hissed at the sting pulling off the small bit of skin caused you and grabbed a bandaid immediately, but now, all you can think about is how it isn’t enough.

About how much better you’d feel if you pulled all your skin off. If you could feel every inch of your skin stretched to its limits and torn off of your body, because God knows you deserve it.

The thought makes you wince. That is… disgusting. Why am I thinking about that? You shake your head in hopes that it would shake away the dark thought, but instead the action makes it rattle inside your brain and break off into tiny bits in pieces, small unwanted thoughts of wounding your flesh rolling around your mind.

Similarly to Sisyphus and his boulder, you try to push those thoughts out of your mind, your hands starting to curl into tight fists, but you just can’t. Every time you push a thought back, it comes rolling back to the forefront of your mind, the momentum it gets from being pushed back so far only to get rocketed forwards making it even more unbearable to think about.

The fists your hands have formed become tighter.

Each thought that gets pushed back only jumps forwards once again, ricocheting around your brain, the effort of trying to ignore them making your ears ring.

Before you realize it, your gaze snaps back to the scalpel.

You don’t even notice the blood that begins to spill from your palms from how deeply your nails cut into your skin.

Every thought tries to be louder than the other, creating an unholy cacophony of sound; a terrifying harmony that only grew louder every second that passed. You stare at the scalpel. It continues to reflect the bright gleam of the overhead light, and it continues to make your eyes strain the more you look at it, but you can’t find it in yourself to be all that bothered about the eyestrain.

You unclench your fists and stand up, walking the short distance over to the metal medical cart where the scalpel lays, and you grab the handle of it with shaky hands. You look over at the door for a moment, and stay there for another few seconds.

Once you see that nobody’s coming in, you rush yourself to one of the beds, sliding open the curtains in front of it and sliding them back so that they’ll obscure anyone else’s view of you using the scalpel on yourself.

You sit on the bed and although the scalpel almost slips out of your hand because of the blood from your palms, you manage to keep held in your tight fist, holding it like you would a pencil; tucked under the base of your thumb, and going through the gap between your index and middle finger.

With your hands still trembling and your breath uneven, as well as a bustling mind that only grew louder as the scalpel in your hand grew closer to the skin of your forearm, you made the first incision. Almost immediately, your mind quieted, and your headache dimmed.

Quickly becoming addicted to the feeling of a clear head, you lift the scalpel from your skin, not waiting to watch the blood bubble up from your open wound like you usually would, instead opting to make another incision right next to it.

Being a medic, there was nothing you could really do to stop yourself from thinking about how deep each incision was, and how deep you were cutting into your flesh—so while you cut yourself, a train of thought begun.

Half an inch deep, You push the scalpel deeper, Now a full inch. Should take a month or two to fully heal. Wouldn’t scar.

The thought of it not scarring should make you happy, or at least, neutral, but instead the thought makes you frown. Some odd hunger that comes from the indefinite pit in your stomach craves evidence for the malice you’ve shown towards your own skin, something that would prove your self-hatred.

So, you go another half inch deeper. Scarring would be possible, but not as high of a chance as if you went another half inch. With that thought, you go the last half inch. There we go.

You slide the scalpel blade through your flesh, the blade cutting through it like it would a firm fruit like a pear. It’s easier to cut through skin when the skin is pulled taut, You think, If only I had an extra hand.

You pull out the blade and repeat. You feel less guilty already.

All that worry about fucking up during your last assignment washes away, like the wave of guilt that overcame you earlier receded and pulled back that worry with it, lowering the tide of shame and self-reproach within you. In fact, the tide lowers so much that it almost completely disappears from your mind—like it never existed in the first place.

Reminds me of a tsunami, You repeat your actions with the scalpel, When the tides get low, so low that the ocean floor shows and you could walk where you’d originally have to swim, it’s because a tsunami is building up.

You look down at your work. Your forearm is a bloody mess, crimson red dripping down to your fingers and threatening to drop onto the stark white sheets of the bed you’re sitting on. You sigh tiredly and get up from the bed, putting the end of the scalpel’s handle into your mouth—ignoring the voice in the back of your head that reprimands you for not thinking about bacteria or contamination—and biting down to hold it whilst you slide the curtains in front of the bed to the side, walking out of the small resting area.

You grab the scalpel and set it onto the metal medical cart by your desk, grabbing the gauze on that same cart, opening the small box it’s kept in with your non-bloody hand. It’s a struggle, but you manage it open, and you shake the roll of gauze out onto the cart.

In the middle of you attempting to pull the end of the gauze off of the roll so that you could begin to wrap it around the red lines decorating your forearm, you hear loud footsteps walking near the medbay. You freeze in place, the gauze roll in one hand, your eyes burning holes through the door with how intensely you stare at it.

There’s a knock. Then another.

The door handle twists.

You stare at the door, and everything feels like it’s in slow motion for a second.

The door opens.

“Hey, dae ye hae any—” Soap walks in, the sergeant taking one look at you before cutting himself off with a confused and immediately worried, “Holy shit, whit happened tae yer arm? Are ye alright?”

He rushes over to you and takes your bleeding forearm into his hand. You almost immediately rip it away from his grip.

“Nothing! Everything’s fine! Just an accident,” You lie, holding the blood-covered forearm close to your chest, “I was just about to clean it up.”

“Dae ye need help wrappin’ it, an cleanin’ it up, or anything?” Soap asks, eyebrows furrowed and his expression beyond worried.

“Nope,” You insist, “It’s fine. All good here.”

“... Ye sure?”

“Uh huh,” You nod your head, “All good. Don’t worry about it.”

“‘kay then,” Soap tilts his head and crosses his arms, “Whit happened?”

“Just a little accident with some of the equipment,” You nod down to the bloody scalpel on the medical cart, “That’s all.”

It must be obvious you’re lying, because Soap sighs and says, “I think we baith ken that that’s a lie.”

You stay silent for a few moments, before Soap speaks up again, “Ye ken if ye dinnae tell me, I’ll jist jump tae conclusions, richt?”

You take a deep breath before mumbling something under your breath. When Soap’s eyebrows draw together in confusion, you repeat louder, “I used the scalpel. On myself.”

“Ye whit?”

“I used the scalpel on myself,” You look away, and rush out, “and I’m really sorry, I just couldn’t help it, it’s not like— like a normal thing or anything, it’s just this once, I swear, and— and—”

“[c/n], calm down,” Soap quickly uncrosses his arms and sets both hands onto your shoulders, furrowed eyebrows now taking a more concerned shape, “It’s okay.”

You take a deep breath and look at him, looking at his nose instead of his eyes because you don’t think you could handle eye contact right now, “I’m really sorry.”

“Why would ye dae that tae yerself?” Soap asks, voice soft and almost pitying, which makes you want to curl up and die.

You shrug, not wanting to answer verbally.

“Dae ye— dae the others ken?” Soap questions.

“No.”

“I’m—” Soap looks conflicted for a moment, “I hae an assignment… I’ll get Gaz tae help ye, aye? An’ I’ll check in wi’ ye as soon as possible?”

You hesitate, but end up nodding in agreement, thankful that Soap offered to get Gaz rather than one of the others. The others seemed so oddly scary right now that you don’t even want to think about how they’d react to this whole situation. It’s all gone by so fast—one moment you were sitting on a hospital bed, the next you’re found out by Soap of all people—you’ve barely had time to think about the others.

“Okay. Okay, okay,” Soap repeats the word under his breath like a mantra, thinking to himself for a second before sighing and looking down at you again, “Jesus, fuck, okay. I’ll go get him, ye stay here, aye?”

You nod again, this time your vision begins to get more blurred.

“Ye’re gonnae be okay, okay?” Soap tries to reassure you. You nod once again, sniffling a little bit, making Soap��s gaze soften.

He takes his hands off of your shoulders and gives you one last sad look before turning around and rushing out of the medbay, his thundering footsteps growing quieter as he gets closer to Gaz’s location—most likely his sleeping quarters.

You wait a moment and when you hear no footsteps, your gaze goes back to the blade. It’s not like it’ll hurt to do a few more. I’ll stop when the others arrive.

You grab the handle of the blade, and as quickly as you can, akin to an addict scrambling for substance, you slice through the skin of your non-mutilated hand. You make several quick and deep gashes before dropping the scalpel onto the medical cart again, breathing heavy, the cuts this time actually hurting. It felt like fire was running rampant through your nerves, all stemming from the self-induced wounds, and you winced at the new pain. It wasn’t anything you weren’t used to, but still.

When you hear footsteps again, you can tell they aren’t Soap’s.

The door clicks open and in walks Gaz, already looking very worried—presumably from what Soap told him about your… situation—with another person in tow. Right behind him, Price walks in, expression neutral so far.

Gaz looks over at you, his eyes widening as he sees the bloody gashes in your forearms. Without a second thought, he rushes over to you, his hand reaching for your forearm. Before you can stop him, he grabs your bloody forearm and pulls it up a bit so that he can look at it closer. You flinch, and Price quickly walks over to you two before Gaz can even utter a single word.

“Let’s not, okay?” Price’s version of ‘knock it off’, “I’m here, I’ll take care of their… thing. You hand me what I tell you to. Understood?”

“Yup— Yes, sir. Captain,” Gaz corrects himself quickly, making a slip-up that in any other situation would’ve made you at least chuckle, but all you can do now is stare at the pair as you hold your bloody arms to your chest.

Price looks back over to you and nods over to one of the many empty curtain-surrounded beds and says, “Go sit over there and wait for a few seconds.”

You nod, not knowing what else to do or say, and immediately walk over there. It’s the room furthermost to the right, the one that’s also the closest to the door and the one you’d coincidentally gone into to cut yourself.

You slide the curtains to the side and sit down on the white bed, and just a few seconds later, just as Price said, he walked in as well. He sat next to you, Gaz in tow, the latter carrying a jar of cotton pads and balls as well as a bottle of Betadine.

Betadine—or iodopovidone, whichever name you preferred—was a sort of antiseptic that was generally used for cleaning cuts and wounds. Maybe not ones as deep as yours, but it would still work just as well.

Despite it not being alcohol-based, or really having any alcohol in it, it still hurts the same as rubbing alcohol would, which you were… definitely not looking forward to.

“Sergeant,” Price takes the jar and bottle of Betadine from Gaz, “Go and grab the skin stapler for me.”

“Yes, sir,” Gaz nods, walking out of the room once again. Price sets the jar and bottle of Betadine onto the bed beside himself after he leaves.

With you and Price now in the room alone, he turns to you and holds out his hand with his palm faced up for your arm silently. You carefully put your forearm onto his hand, watching as he gently pulls it closer to him, looking a bit closer at it before sighing through his nose and using his free hand to open the jar of cotton pads.

“How did this happen?” He asks, breaking the silence.

“Soap didn’t fill you in?”

“No.”

You think about what to tell him for a moment. What’s too straightforward? What’s too vague? How do I not overstep? How do I not sound like I just want attention?

Eventually, you settle on, “I was— … I saw the uh… scalpel, and I just… decided to use it a little bit. On myself.” Definitely not the best you can do, but what else could you say? ‘Oh, I cut myself with a scalpel because I felt guilty and if I didn’t I probably would’ve had a panic attack or a mental breakdown’?

“…” Price pauses for a moment, eyes twitching for a split second before he continues his movements to grab a cotton pad and questions you, “Why?”

“Why what?”

“You know what I’m asking, [c/n].”

He’s asking why you did it. There’s not one simple answer you could give him—sure, you could tell him that you felt guilty and it was a bad habit that you’ve told yourself you could stop but never tried to, but that wouldn’t be the whole truth.

You can’t fully express or dictate why you do it, you just do. It’s like when you cut slits into bread before baking it. Without those slits, the bread would crack and split at the seams on its own, but with them, the splitting and expanding of the dough is controlled.

Except, with you, it’s like you’re cutting yourself before the tension building inside of you makes you burst at the seams. Taking a blade to your skin has given you a sense of control—maybe that’s why it’s so addicting, You think, it’s the only way I’ve been able to control my feelings.

But you can’t just say all of that. Well, you could, but did you want to? Fuck no.

Instead, you opt for shrugging, which doesn’t satisfy Price one bit.

“I could see you thinking about it,” He sighs, “I know you at least have some sort of real answer.”

Well, fuck. “It’s a long answer.”

“I never said it couldn’t be.”

He doesn’t move to grab the Betadine at all, instead waiting for you to talk.

You purse your lips and think for another moment before finally talking again, “I was feeling really guilty and tense, and I guess it just got too much, so I just kind of… had to. Like I felt like I was gonna fuckin’… I dunno, have a nervous breakdown or something. And honestly, it’s a really stupid reason, because the thing that I’m feeling guilty about happened like a week ago, but still—I’ve been feeling really guilty about it. It—It’s not like I can’t stop, if I tried I could, I swe—swear, and I just— it’s been really easy to just— you know? I— honestly, it’s not that big of a deal—”

“Hey, hey—” Price brings a hand to your shoulder and softens his voice, “It’s okay. I understand.”

“I ju—st… I’m sorry, I—”

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Price reassures you, quickly bringing that same hand up to cup your jaw, “You’re okay. You don’t have to say sorry.”

“But I—”

“Shh.” You hadn’t even noticed how frantic your breathing had gotten during your small word vomit. And to just make things worse, there’d been tears gathering at your water line, well on their way to spilling over and creating tear tracks down your cheeks.

You can’t help but let go of all the tension in your shoulders the moment Price starts gently rubbing his thumb back and forth over your cheek. The moment he does that, it’s practically game over for you.

Those tears spill out from the corners of your eyes and you can already feel your next breath get caught in your throat, leaving you to just let Price gently guide your head to lean forwards against his chest, letting out small hiccups and trying desperately to hold back the sobs you want to let out.

It all happened so fast, you don’t even know how you got here. One moment you were doing a good job of somewhat keeping your guard up, the next your resolve was crumbled completely by the gentle and oddly caring touch of Price’s hand.

Suddenly, there’s a knock at the door, then someone walks in while you’re burying your head further into Price’s chest—Ghost. You can tell it’s him by the way he walks. He has long strides, he never drags his feet, and the moment he slides the curtains to the side to see you, his footsteps stop. They start up again a moment later, and he sits by your side, opposite of where Price is sitting—to your right instead of your left.

Gaz must’ve let him in while he was looking for the stapler, You think, sniffling against Price’s chest. Normally, you would’ve felt some sort of shame by now, but given the current situation, you didn’t find much room to give a shit.

You feel Price’s head move up slightly, and judging by the way he occasionally nods and sometimes moves his hands a bit, you can only assume that he’s having some sort of nonverbal conversation with Ghost right now. This conversation goes on for about a few minutes longer before you’ve managed to control your breathing a bit more.

Price can tell, and he asks just for confirmation, “Is it alright if I clean your cuts now?”

You nod and sniffle once before taking your head off of Price’s chest, looking down at your lap, simply holding out one of your blood-crusted arms to him. You can see Ghost stiffen up behind you almost immediately at the sight of it.

Price grabs a cotton pad from the jar he was handed earlier, as well as the bottle of iodopovidone, and soaks the cotton pad with said iodopovidone. Once it’s soaked with the antiseptic solution, he hesitates before pressing it to your bloody arms.

Almost immediately, you inhale a sharp breath and feel tears stinging your eyes again.

“It’s okay,” Price tries to calm you down, seeing the tears forming in your eyes again, “You’re okay.”

You sniffle and shift on the bed, trying to blink away tears that threaten to spill over your water line. Ghost, sitting by your side, puts a gloved hand over your shoulder, his thumb rubbing gentle circles into your shoulder. His eyes twitch as you bite the inside of your cheek to muffle another sob while Price presses another Betadine-infused cotton pad to your self-induced wounds, and although you can barely see him, out of the corner of your eye, you still catch the glint of new tears gathering at the corners of his eyes as he watches you.

Gaz slips back through the curtains in front of the bed, this time with Soap in tow, and hands a skin stapler to Price. Seeing the skin stapler, something you used fairly often—often enough that the others knew how it worked and how to use it—automatically made your stomach turn.

“Told ye I’d come back for ye,” Soap murmurs, kneeling down to get about eye-level with you. You huff out the smallest laugh at his words and he gives you a small smile that makes you want to go lock yourself in a room with a scalpel and repeat what you’d done earlier all over again, his empathetic expression paining you more than taking a blade to your arm.

As a matter of fact, the expressions that you wish were pity coming from everyone around you hurts more than anything you could’ve ever done to yourself. Their concern was so unexpected—not that you don’t think they care, but you never thought they cared this much. You didn’t think that, if caught in the act, you would receive empathetic looks and solemn smiles, rather thinking that you would receive reprimanding. That you’d be punished for punishing yourself.

Price thanks Gaz silently with the curt nod of his head before turning back to you with a solemn expression that in all honesty makes you more guilty and disappointed with yourself than before. He holds the skin stapler like he would a hot glue gun, looking down at the open wounds in front of him, and holds your forearm closer to him so he can see the edges of the cuts better.

"Keep your arm like that," He murmurs, to which you respond with a nod and stiffening your arm so that it stays in the air where Price positioned it. He uses his now free hand to gently pull the edges of the cut you'd made closer together, aligning them the best he can before pressing the metal staple dispenser to the cut and pushing down on the trigger, stapling the two edges together with a click.

He holds it down for an extra second before releasing and pulling the stapler away from your skin, and although the process only took around three seconds, you'd never get used to the feeling of getting your skin stapled. You make a small, pained noise that has Soap wincing as well--as though he can feel it too--and Price looking more solemn than earlier.

“Finished with this one,” Price mutters as you swallow down another sob, holding his calloused-but-soft hand out for you to put your other forearm in. You do just that, nearly breaking into a fit of new sobs at the small ‘thank you’ Price utters.

You watch Price soak another cotton pad with iodopovidone with his free hand and suck in a deep breath as he presses it to your forearm, the originally white cotton pad almost immediately going red. Tears spill over your waterline and roll down your cheeks as he continues to clean and disinfect your wounds, and before you can move your free hand to wipe them away, Ghost does so for you, his rough gloved hand swiping below your eyes quickly.

You mumble a small 'thank you' that's barely even audible, sniffling as you can’t help but lean forward the tiniest bit into Ghost’s hand as it lingers on your cheek. He pauses, keeping it there for a second, before bringing that same hand up to the crown of your head and pushing gently on it to urge you to lean your head back. You do so, the back of your head quickly making contact with his Adam’s apple and the top of your head becoming tucked underneath his chin.

His hand goes back down to your shoulder and continues its ministrations of rubbing small circles into said shoulder, bringing you intermittent moments of comfort throughout the painful wound cleaning you had to endure.

Soap keeps a comforting hand on your knee as he’s kneeled down in front of you, his thumb occasionally copying Ghost’s, but otherwise remaining still on your knee, careful not to force you through too many different sensations at once.

Gaz watches you from by the curtain, seeming not to do and looking completely lost. He stands there for another moment, watching the others, seeing what they’re doing for a second, before giving Ghost a ‘one moment’ signal by holding up his index finger and stepping out of the curtain-surrounded area.

Right after he does, another painful sting shoots up your nerves from your forearm, and you make the mistake of looking down at it.

Wounds that only fifteen minutes ago had brought you to a calmer state of mind and were nothing more than incisions made by the scalpel you’d used to cut other people for entirely different reasons now almost hurt to look at. Once you could’ve compared them to marks left by wild animals, and you could’ve described them as though they were trophies, but now, as you stare down at them being cleaned by your own captain, they look nothing like the sort.

They don’t look like any of the pretty descriptions you’d given them. They don’t look like cat scratches you’d gotten in an accident, or like something you would get out of a fight with a bear—they don’t make you look strong and brave like you thought they did.

They look like tally marks. Sanguineous, gruesome tally marks, made by you, like you’d been counting down the days—or seconds, minutes, hours—until you’d had enough. Until you’d had enough of just carving your skin with medical equipment, and needed something more. Craved something more.

Price must notice you staring down at the wounds, because he pauses in his movements to clean them for a moment, the sudden stopping of the stinging sensation the iodopovidone-soaked cotton making you shiver. You look up at him, and see him already looking down at you, concerned.

“You’re thinking about something,” He points out softly, “Tell me what’s going on in that head of yours.”

You hesitate and look back down at your arm that Price had stopped cleaning, before mumbling, “Just thinking about how these are gonna scar.” It’s not entirely a lie, but not entirely the truth either.

Price tilts his head to the side a bit, questioningly, “Do you know how they’re gonna scar?”

“Well, when you work in the medical field for a bit, it gets easier to tell.”

You can tell he wants to ask how they’re gonna scar, so you decide to just say, “They’re all about one-and-a-half to two inches deep, so they’ll heal fully and then scar in a few months. Once they do, they’ll be visible, but not too prominent. The scarring tissue will stick above the skin a little bit, and it’ll make it look a little bit puffy.”

“Alright,” Price hums, tone neutral, “So they’ll be… visible.”

He sounds disgusted, A voice in the forefront of your mind insists, while one from the back of your mind tries to tell you, You have no way of knowing that, just see where the conversation goes. He has no reason to be disgusted with you.

“Yeah.”

“Okay then,” Price sets the cotton pad down and grabs the skin stapler he’d been using earlier, “And it’ll take a few months to heal, you said?”

“Several months, yeah.” Price considers this for a moment, pausing in his movements to hold the stapler to your skin.

“Do you think you’ll need any help re-wrapping the bandages while they heal?” He inquires, resuming his movements after asking the question.

“…” You think for a moment, Will you?, and after a few seconds, hesitantly, you reply, “… Yeah.”

“M’kay,” Price hums softly, neutrally. “And would you want me to be the one who does it?”

You think for another few minutes. Preferably, you’d be doing them yourself, but you didn’t trust yourself enough for that—so getting one of them to do it for you is your next best option. You wouldn’t mind if it was Price doing it, but at the same time, you wouldn’t mind if Ghost, Gaz, or Soap did it either.

“It doesn’t matter,” You settle on, before tacking on, “As long as it’s one of you four.”

“Us ‘four’ being… ?”

“You, Soap, Ghost, and Gaz.”

“Got it,” Price nods. You see Soap smile softly out of the corner of your eye before he quickly stops, trying to purse his lips into a line. He’s probably thinking that he shouldn’t be happy about that, You think, almost amused. You feel Ghost’s thumb stutter on your shoulder as well, before it starts back up normally.

Your words affect them more than you thought they would.

Breaking your train of thought, Price staples your skin with a muted click, making you wince.

It’s silent for a few more moments before Gaz finally comes back, now out of breath and carrying a bar of chocolate. He hands you the chocolate bar and says, panting, “I almost had to spar someone for that. Why do you have to like the chocolate one of the other fuckin’ Lieutenants do?”

You take the chocolate bar with your free hand gingerly and blink at it for a few moments before setting it down next to you.

“Nobody told you to get it,” You shrug, before tacking on, “Thank you, though.”

“Uh-huh, yeah, totally, hey so uh—” He looks at Soap and jabs his thumb towards where the door would be behind the curtains, “We’re both needed somewhere else. Again. They said they forgot something… again.”

“Worst fucking timing ever,” Soap grumbles, before clearing his throat and standing up, looking down at you, “Right, I’ll check in on ye later, and help ye wi’ anything ye need me tae, aye? I’ll come wi’ mair chocolate than Gaz did, ‘cause I’m better than him.”

“Got it,” You smile up at him, making him grin back and pat you on the shoulder Ghost’s hand isn’t occupying, before heading out with Gaz.

Then, you’re left with Ghost and Price.

“I should get going too,” Ghost mutters, slowly taking his hand off of your shoulder and gently pushing your head back off of his chest, almost regrettably.

“M’kay,” You watch as he gets up and hesitates, looking like he’s about to give you a hug, before he decides to instead give you a simple head nod and head out the same way the two other operators did.

And then, it was just you and Price.

It’s silent for a bit, until Price speaks up.

“You think a lot,” Price comments, finishing up the last staple.

“Does that surprise you?”

“A little bit, yeah.”

You pause for a moment before sighing through your nose, “It’s nothing. Just the same stuff I was thinking about before.”

“Wanna give me some more detail than that?”

“Not really, no,” You admit, letting your hand fall into your lap as Price lets go of it, “But I have a feeling you’re gonna want me to tell you.”

“I do.”

“It’s just something stupid, like earlier—”

“That wasn’t stupid, [c/n], that was you hurting.”

“I— I know. It’s just that this is actually stupid.”

“Well, tell me what it is, and I’ll be the judge of that.”

You think about how to phrase it in simple terms for a moment, before finally speaking, “I used to think that the scars sort of… symbolized how I was able to control myself and my emotions, and that made me feel…” You can’t think of any synonyms to make the simple words you want to say sound less childish, so you’re forced to say, “… brave. And strong. I just— I thought it showed that I was good at controlling my emotions and stuff, for some reason. But now I’m questioning all of that.”

“You’re very brave,” Price reassures you, and God, it sounds like he’s reassuring a child, “And you’re so strong. But this… this isn’t how you show that. This—cutting yourself—doesn’t make you either of those things. It doesn’t show that you’re either of those things. It shows that you need help.”

“But you just said that I was strong.”

“I did.”

“… Aren’t you contradicting yourself?”

“How would I be contradicting myself?” Price asks.

“You said that me— me… harming myself shows that I need help.”

“It does,” Price hums, and at your confused expression, he continues, “You needing help doesn’t mean you aren’t strong. Needing help and being strong aren’t connected like that.”

You open your mouth to argue but you close it, not knowing what to say. Price sees this and smiles knowingly, simply grabbing your hand to squeeze it once before getting up.

“I’ll check in on you later, okay? I need to get some stuff done, but as soon as I can, I’ll be back to keep you company. Or I’ll send someone else over—whichever you prefer.”

“M’kay,” You mumble, squeezing Price’s hand back before letting go. “You can do whatever. I don’t mind either one.”

“Sounds good.” Price pauses for a moment before leaning down and giving you a quick hug, and then beginning to slip past the curtains blocking any outsider's view of the bed you were sat on.

Before he can leave, you quickly say, "Thank you. For the wound-cleaning-thing."

He pauses at the curtain for a second, before smiling and replying, "You're welcome."

for those curious, the bthb card so far:

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cal-flakes · 10 months

Note

Dealer! rafe comforting the reader on her period

╰┈➤ dealer!rafe period comfort

warnings: none really, just fluff.

summary: dealer!rafe comforts y/n on her period. (this is written based of my own experiences with periods, hopefully some people can relate.)

the sound of her quiet sobs down the phone had derailed rafe’s entire day, not that he minded.

he’d answered her call as he drove through town, on his way to barry’s. he grimaced as her broken cries sounded through the speaker system, suffocating him.

he was frantic, he had no idea what was wrong, but he knew she needed him, and he would never in a million years fail to be there for her.

pushing the speed limit, he sped through the neighbourhood, pulling into the driveway with a screech before running into the house.

“angel?” he called, listening for her cries. “i’m in bed..” her whimpers echoing throughout the house.

his heavy footsteps padded up the stairs in a rush, flinging the bedroom door open.

“what happened baby?” he cooed, nearing her side of the bed. he perched on the edge, staring at the pile of covers she’d hidden under mere minutes beforehand, desperate for closeness.

reaching over slowly, he pulled the blanket away slightly, allowing her flushed face to peak out over the top.

she was curled in a ball, clutching her stomach, while she held in a deep breath, attempting to subside the pain ripping through her.

“i can’t help if i don’t know what’s wrong princess..” he muttered, stroking away some tangled hair stuck to her cheeks.

“e-everything hurts rafe, i have cramps, i’m too hot, i’m too cold, i’m hungry, i’m not hungry..” she wailed, clutching the covers to her chest as she shivered underneath.

“oh, sweet girl, come here..” he whispered, pulling her weight on top of him as he crawled in beside her. “how can i help you baby?..”

“i just want you..” she sniffed, nuzzling into rafe’s shoulder. “i’m here princess, i’m not going anywhere..” he whispered, holding her head in his large hands.

a stream of guilt washed over her, earning more tears. she knew he had a busy day today, he had told her about it earlier.

“i’m sorry for ruining your day..” she mumbled, while drawing shapes on his arms. “shh, you couldn’t ruin my day if you tried angel”

the pair lay like that for hours, tangled in each others comfort whilst she dozed off in his arms. rafe had never felt so full of love, he couldn’t help but feel the urge to yell, to scream how much he loved her to the world.

everything she did was perfect to him. the way she curled up against him, to the way she’d throw her head back in hysterics at a bad joke.

she’d woken a few hours later, the crash of waves rolling in through the balcony. she craned her neck to find his eyes also closed, light snores blowing from his nose.

resting her chin against his now bare chest, she stared up at him, scanning over his chiselled features.

he looked so undeniably at peace for once, and she adored it. she adored the man underneath her to no end.

y/n had never felt so content, so blissful. to have a day in bed with rafe wasn’t a common occurrence so she had to take advantage of it.

her dainty hands trailed over his cheekbones as his eyes fluttered. a small groan escaped his lips as he woke, meeting her eyes.

“hi baby..” she cooed, beaming up at him. “do you want to watch a movie with me?”

and that’s what they did. rafe grabbed his laptop from under the nightstand, searching through netflix while she pottered about the kitchen, gathering snacks.

“okay, what do you want to watch angel?” setting down the bowl of popcorn, she twisted her face in thought.

“hmm, how about…” gasping, her face rose to a menacing smile. “harry potter?” she squealed, sliding under the covers once more, almost drowning in the sheets.

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x fem!reader #outer banks #rafe cameron #outerbanks rafe #obx #rafecameron #dom!rafe #rafe obx #soft!dom rafe #dealer!rafe

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soapoet · 11 months

Text

W.I.T.C.H. pick-a-card reading

Taranee Cook; what makes you beautiful

like & reblog if it resonates ♡

01.

Shufflemancy: If we have each other by Alec Benjamin

there is something so familiar about you that disarms people and draws them in. you have a very warm energy that feels increasingly rare in a world that's so often cold and grim. your beauty is inoffensive and so effortless. you may resonate with the concept of classic and natural beauty and favour timeless things, quality over quantity, honour your roots or stick to the tried and true. there's a strong self awareness and understanding in you that spills into all areas of your life. your heart and character is of great importance to you, and it gives you a sort of ethereal glow from within. you're a loyal confidante who's always ready to hype up your near and dear, but also strangers who need some cheering. despite being so calm you could easily be cast in the role of the defender of the people. princess diana comes to mind, too, because you have so much care for your loved ones and your community and often see that adoration returned. you're generous and kind without allowing anyone to take advantage of you, which makes you a force to be reckoned with.

02.

Shufflemancy: The middle by Jimmy Eat World

you really don't mind if you stand out in a crowd, and often that's your goal. not for the attention, it's simply that in your efforts to show the world the real authentic you, you naturally stick out as a unique individual. you may have gone through an ugly duckling phase before you had a glow up after a journey of self-discovery and experimentation to find what feels most like you. and the experiments didn't stop there, because you are constantly evolving and aren't afraid of trying new things. and this part of your character makes you so endearing. you're open-minded, welcome new and unfamiliar things because you love to learn and expand your horizons. there is something pixie-like about you, an eternal youth with an infinite pool of curiosity and wonder. your creativity spills out of you and into everything you touch, and you find magic all around you and share your visions with those around you who can't help but to be mesmerised by you.

03.

Shufflemancy: Yes mom by Tessa Violet

well, damn. you really bring the heat. your presence alone is formidable, and whether you're aware of it or not, you inspire a lot of love and admiration, but also jealousy and hate. you may find that people either love you or hate you, with very little in between. maybe you have a bad case of RBF or something about you just rubs people the wrong way without you saying or doing anything. but you don't let that bother you, do you? you're not afraid of being yourself and working your assets and your magic. to those closest to you you're a fiercly loyal ride or die. you have a dark sensuality to you. whether you're wearing sweats or a dress is irrelevant, because the air of mystery around you makes you such an enigma that just can't be ignored. you know what you like and what you want, and what you don't, and your integrity and spine of steel makes you a trustworthy ally who can always be trusted to say what needs to be said.

#pac reading #pick a card #pick a picture #spiritual guidance #w.i.t.c.h.#pick a pile #tarot reading #pick a card reading #soapy.post #energy reading #shufflemancy

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roguerambles · 6 months

Text

MK Alluring Sorceress!Reader Intros

Mortal Kombat - Female Reader x Multiple

Okay, so I've been on a fighting game kick recently and under the influence of a certain someone (*cough* check out @icy-spicy she's awesome *cough*) I've been looking into a lot of Mortal Kombat.

I've also seen a bunch of these "Reader Intros" kicking around and wanted to try my hand at some!

I'm picturing Reader as a sorceress, a bit of a wild card, not really good or bad, but is determined in achieving her own goals. Pretty and clever and alluring and well aware of it too. I might try and do something with her if I can find the muse haha.

This is just sort of me experimenting a bit, I don't know if I'll try more.

Enjoy the rambles!

Shang Tsung vs Reader

Shang Tsung: "We have much in common, you and I."

You: "I'm prettier, smarter and more powerful than you."

Shang Tsung: "Let's agree to disagree, my dear."

Shang Tsung: "Your skills are impressive."

You: "You hardly need to tell me that."

Shang Tsung: "But they pale before a true master."

Shang Tsung: "Your charms are no match for my power."

You: "I will enjoy seeing you on your knees, Shang Tsung."

Shang Tsung: *laughs* "I confess to thinking the same thing."

Shang Tsung: "Submit, and I will give you anything you desire."

You: "Funny, I was just about to say the same to you."

Shang Tsung: "Perhaps we may both yet win."

Kuai Liang vs Reader

Kuai Liang: "The Lin Kuei will not bow to your whims."

You: "You will soon enough, handsome."

Kuai Liang: "Hmph."

Kuai Liang: "Does your magic protect you from the cold?"

You: "I find body heat a more enjoyable method for all involved."

Kuai Liang: "Your charms will not protect you from me."

Kuai Liang: "You seek the secrets of the Lin Kuei?"

You: "Tell me, and my gratitude will heat that cold blood of yours, Kuai Liang."

Kuai Liang: "Only if you prove worthy."

Kuai Liang: "Your recklessness will be your undoing, sorceress."

You: "Kuai Liang, are you flirting with me?"

Kuai Liang: "Draw your own conclusions."

Jax Briggs vs Reader

Jax: "You wanna share what you're up to this time?"

You: "We could share many things, Major Briggs."

Jax: "Not when I'm on the clock."

You: "Just how good with those arms are you?"

Jax: "Surrender peacefully, and I'll show you."

You: "Ooh, Major Briggs..."

Jax: "You don't want this."

You: "On the contrary, I want you quite a bit."

Jax: "Now you're just trying to make me blush."

You: "There are so many other ways we could get physical."

Jax: "I'm listening."

You: "Come closer and I'll tell you..."

Shao Khan vs Reader

Shao Khan: "Join my concubines."

You: "I do not play second fiddle, Shao Khan."

Shao Khan: "I do enjoy a jealous woman..."

Shao Khan: "A woman like you deserves a man like me."

You: "I could use a man like you at my beck and call."

Shao Khan: "Ha! I like your fire!"

You: "Kneel before me, Shao Khan."

Shao Khan: "I kneel before nobody."

You: "You will beg for me in time."

Shao Khan: "You cannot resist me for long."

You: "Sounds as though you are the one who cannot forget me..."

Shao Khan: "You will be mine!"

Johnny Cage vs Reader

Johnny: *whistle* "Where the hell did you come from?"

You: "Your wildest fantasies, handsome."

Johnny: "Damn, I am in trouble."

Johnny: "Any chance we skip the fight and go grab a coffee?"

You: "Surrender, and I promise you won't regret it."

Johnny: "That's really damn tempting, I won't lie."

You: "Serve me, and I can offer you rewards beyond your greatest imaginings."

Johnny: "You're killing me here, sweetheart."

You: "Not yet."

Johnny: "You don't steal souls, do you?"

You: "Why don't you come closer and find out?"

Johnny: "...well mark me down as scared and horny..."

Liu Kang vs Reader

Liu Kang: "You must temper your desires before they consume you, sorceress."

You: "You should indulge in desire before you wither, monk."

Liu Kang: "...that felt a little uncalled for."

You: "I would hate to ruin that pretty face, Liu Kang."

Liu Kang: "We need not be adversaries."

You: "Alas, you persist in getting in my way."

You: "We could work well together, Liu Kang."

Liu Kang: "Perhaps, if you would exercise a little more self-control."

You: "I could teach you to loosen up, to begin with..."

You: "How is Kitana doing, these days?"

Liu Kang: "Oh, she...she is well."

You: "Oh, look at you blush! Such a lucky girl."

#mortal kombat #mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat 11 #mk jax briggs #mk kuai liang #mk shao kahn #mk liu kang #mk johnny cage #mk shang tsung #mk x reader #mk intros #mk reader #mortal kombat reader #mk reader intros

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fishsticksloser · 10 months

Note

Would it be alright to ask for a Rottmnt (separate) for a reader who suffers with really bad ptsd nightmares and often wakes up screaming or crying due to it?

PTSD

RotTMNT x gn!reader

Warnings: PTSD, panic & anxiety attacks, trauma, post-movie so aged up

A/N: PTSD is honestly so terrifying. Having it myself, I have no memories and am almost unable to make new ones. The human brain is weird.

Donnie

He also has PTSD

He has nightmares of the Kraang ship

Being ripped out of it

But he doesn't wake

He suffered from a form of sleep paralysis because of this

He also feels phantom tentacles quite often

He also has some memory issues

But he had a little of that before anyways

So he understands

He's not the best with comfort, but he knows from experience

He'll only touch you if you give consent

That's such a big thing to him

He has noise cancelling headphones, weighted blankets, anything you need

He won't talk, he's not really talkative with these things

But he still tries his best

If you can't get back to sleep, he'll take you to his lab to work

Leo

Also has PTSD

He has nightmares, but he doesn't wake up all the time

If he does wake up, he's gasping

He's feeling over his plastron for the cracks

He's looking around wildly

He also does wake up if you do

He'll calm you screaming or crying

Once again (I say this a lot), he'll move mountains to get you whatever you need

Whatever you need

Need to be held? Done

Need him to stay away from you? Done

Although he hates not being able to touch you he'll still down whatever you need

He'll stay up with you if you can't sleep, his hands lightly tracing shapes on your skin to make sure you're comforted

Mikey

They all have PTSD...

Mikey doesn't suffer from nightmares as much as his brothers

But he does have nughtmares

Mostly of if he hadn't saved Leo or if Donnie died in the control panel

He wakes up, not screaming, but in a cold sweat

So if you wake up screaming or crying

Mikey is immediately laying on you

He's done some research and talked to his brothers about what helps

He'll kiss you (holding your breath helps stop panic attacks)

If you can't go back to sleep, he'll stay up with you

Painting, drawing, whatever.

Raph

He has nightmares as well

He'll wake up thrashing most of the time, other times he'll sit up really quick right before Leo dies

So he understands and wants to help

He'll hold you, he'll talk to you, he'll rock you

Whatever you need

He's there for you

The last thing Raph wants is to not be there for you

He somehow always knows when you're having a nightmare

If you're not with him, he'll call you

If you can't get back to sleep, hell do whatever you want to waste time

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oneofthosenightbees · 11 months

Note

So, I'm already madly in love with your cult of the lamb designs/headcanons! I wanted to ask a question or two about your take on Shamura if you don't mind? For one, I noticed in the doodle you did for them, the second pose looks like they were descending? Does that happen often, or did lamb figure out a way to keep them more grounded? Also do they always have that blank expression? Or is there away to make them smile, cry etc? Love what you got goin' on!!

tysm!! I'm glad you enjoyed my designs and hcs as much as I like going on about them😭

And for Shamura, and about this pic you brought up, a small hc I have about them when drawing them (and the other bishops) is that their injuries can get really bad when under extreme distress, whether it be emotional or physical. For Shamuras case, they rarely experience such intense emotions and try to remain level headed for their siblings and the lambs sake. But on the rare occasions (which makes it more terrifying to some) they do end up getting overwhelmed/extremely stressed (sometimes from recalling certain events) and isolate themselves in their tent for a while before one of their siblings or the lamb comes to check in them. During this time, Shamura is pretty stubborn and refuses to do anything anyone says and remains silent for the time being , opting to stay in one area to try dealing with it themselves rather than get anyone else involved.

Shamura tries to assure the others that they can handle it on their own, and prefers such, but their siblings know that Shamura’s gonna have difficulty doing anything with ichor dripping everywhere and head splitting headaches for the next few hours. So the other bishops (usually Heket) take care of their injury and try to calm them down by keeping them company for the rest of the day. Once they’re better, Shamura apologies to any follower they believe caused distress to before returning to their duties.

When it comes to shamuras emotions, they’re pretty much aloof to most situations, and have a pretty good poker face when it comes to any conversation. Most of the time they reciting mantras in their head to as a way to keep themselves focused or to make sure they’re not forgetting anything which is why they look so serious 24/7. But sometimes this backfires and they end up getting too lost in thought (and if it gets really bad they end up stressing themselves out again), it doesn’t happen often though, so it’s never too much of an issue for some.

Shamura unintentionally scares off others with their cold expressions (it’s just their default look) and tries to show more emotion, yet when they do, it ends up being a slight eyebrow raise or a simple head tilt. On the very few and rare occasions, they do end up cracking up a genuine smile. It’s just a shame that very few get to see it.

#cult of the lamb #cotl #cotl shamura #more spider hcs cause it’s fun writing about them

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starcurtain · 1 year

Text

Haikaveh Fanfics I Really Want to Read (Part 1)

Part 2. ->

1. A run-in with a cursed artifact on a research trip leaves Alhaitham intangible and invisible. He can't be seen, heard, or even open his precious books (which is the real tragedy here). Things go from bad to worse when it's discovered that the only person who can break the curse is someone who "knows Alhaitham by heart."

Problem is, nobody does. The only one who might even come close is Kaveh, and will he really be willing to go out of his way to research Alhaitham's deepest secrets just to bring his scathing roommate back?

Turns out the answer is yes, and Alhaitham is left invisibly watching over Kaveh's increasingly desperate attempts to learn more about the most private person in all of Sumeru.

Yeah... Alhaitham's probably doomed.

(Or: The Akademiya's erstwhile scribe has nothing better to do than stalk follow his roommate around unseen, gets a front row seat to Kaveh's tough life, undergoes the mortifying ordeal of being known, and realizes just how much his own cold nature has left him isolated from the world.)

Rest under the read more:

2. Another research trip gone wrong: While Kaveh's out of town on a job and without a shield this time, Alhaitham takes a nasty knock to the head during a fight. Although he wakes up all right, he doesn't have the faintest idea who or where he is. Quick-thinking nature intact, Alhaitham decides to fake his way through on context clues for a while. It's an interesting experiment, after all, to learn about his own life from an outsider's perspective.

Too bad a very silly series of coincidences occur (i.e. Kaveh took most of his work things with him for his trip, so his room is pretty bare; they wash their laundry together to save water; and everyone keeps asking Alhaitham why some mysterious "Kaveh" guy isn't with him), all of which lead Alhaitham to the absolutely incorrect assumption that this missing "Kaveh" person is his significant other. Imagine Kaveh's shock when he returns home to a very out-of-character greeting...

(But I mean, really, does Alhaitham need his memories back? This is kind of nice, you know...)

3. Requirements for a Desirable Life (According to Alhaitham):

1. Match your actions to your talents (read as: go with the flow) 2. Low stress, high paying job (read as: the balancing act between making oneself seem indispensable while underachieving as much as possible is a talent) 3. Nice home with a short commute (read as: at-home lunch hours every day) 4. Books (read as: soon as possible) 5. Kaveh (read as: the light of my life who I moved into my house through admittedly somewhat underhanded tactics just to keep him close to me, but what was I supposed to do--tell him I have actual feelings? Impossible, in the most literal of senses)

Or: Alhaitham pursues his plan for an ideal lifestyle in an utterly single-minded and undeterrable fashion... except when comes to his roommate, who--for someone so good at drawing up his own designs--also seems terribly good at ruining Alhaitham's.

Just fall in love with me already.

(Basically, I just want to see Alhaitham be the pining one for once. He is one checkmark away from his dream life, but he'd rather sell his soul to Lord Sangemah Bay than confess without knowing how Kaveh feels first.)

4. Alhaitham is preeminently capable. He's beyond a genius. His research could rewrite the laws of reality if he tried hard enough. But he's also... terrible with people. Actually, terrible is an understatement. If Alhaitham is murdered one day, it'll be because he finally committed one too many social faux pas and honestly the masses will probably say he had it coming. Thank the lesser lord that the Akademiya's scribe has someone as gregarious as Kaveh around to help him learn, right?

Or: Five times Kaveh tried to teach Alhaitham social skills, and the one time Alhaitham put all those lessons into practice... on Kaveh.

5. The very silly comedy one: If someone were to ask Kaveh what the very worst thing about living with Alhaitham is, he'd say--well, first he'd say "Who told you?!", but after that, he'd say something that might come as a surprise. The worst thing about living with Alhaitham isn't their constant snarking and diametrically-opposed mindsets. It isn't the tacky, asymmetrical furniture Alhaitham keeps bringing home because it was "practical and inexpensive." (Kaveh's skin is crawling.) It isn't even the fact that his so-called "landlord" reminds Kaveh all too often about his unpaid rent while never lifting a finger himself to do the dishes.

Nope. The worst thing about living with Alhaitham is the experiments.

"How many books can I leave on top of Kaveh's sketches before he yells at me?"

"How angry will Kaveh get if I drink the expensive wine he brought home last night?"

"How many days will it take Kaveh to notice I keep rearranging all the stuff on his shelves while he's out?"

"How many times can I suggest he add Aranara statues to his designs before he tries to strangle me?"

It's bullying, is what it is! There's no limits to Alhaitham's behavior when his curiosity is piqued--the only thing that matters to him is the answer to whatever outrageous new question he's thought up in that thick head of his. And of course, the louder Kaveh shouts, the more "experiments" Alhaitham seems to dream up...

Honestly, someone ought to give him a taste of his own medicine!

(Or: Alhaitham and Kaveh end up in an exponentially escalating social experiment competition, pushing as hard as they can to find the other's boundaries. One of them has to break and give up soon, right?! Too bad Alhaitham's the god of stubbornness, and Kaveh's eternal peace of mind is on the line--if he can just win this, Alhaitham will finally give it up and quit bothering him! He can't chicken out first!

Because they're both very Normal™, it turns out there's not a single boundary to be found.

Well, at least answering the question "How many times can I walk in on him in the shower before he kicks me out of the house?" might save them some money on the water bill?

By the way, Kaveh wins. It turns out the answer to "How many dog ears can I fold into the pages of Alhaitham's books before he tries to kill me?" is 0.)

#haikaveh #kavetham #genshin impact #alhaitham #kaveh #genshin impact fanfic #fanfic ideas #send help please #I don't have time to write these myself #but I need them in my life

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scribblesandsherlock · 5 months

Text

FNAF Movie! Incorrect Quotes (Part 3)

ABBY: I wanna walk home

MIKE: I'll join you. I'm always game for a brisk walk. Also, if I leave you alone, I'm pretty sure you'll die.

***

VANESSA: So, are we friends?

MIKE: I guess.

VANESSA: You sure?

MIKE: Sure.

VANESSA: ...Should we kiss?

MIKE: No.

Because there's still a small chance they could be siblings and I like their friendship

***

MIKE: You read my journal?

ABBY: At first, I didn't know it was your diary. I thought it was a very sad handwritten book.

***

VANESSA: Have I ever let you down?

MIKE: Do you want me to answer that or should I just glare?

***

ABBY: You promised you'd stop drinking milk in the shower!

MIKE: Stop trying to change me!

***

VANESSA: If Abby jumped off a bridge, would you do the same thing?

MIKE, sighing and getting ready to jump off: Yes. She can't swim.

***

ABBY: Mike, you love me, right?

MIKE: Normally I'd say yes without hesitation, but I feel like this is going somewhere I won't like.

***

[Shortly after what happened to Garrett]

MIKE's Teacher: You are very mature for your age.

Younger!MIKE: Thank you, it's the trauma.

***

MIKE: Everybody's tragic backstory gave them mad skills, and all I got was trust issues and anxiety.

***

CASSIDY: Are you the chosen one?

MIKE: I'm very much the guy who's here

***

DOUG: How much stuff do you need to be happy?

AUNT JANE: Gee, I don't know...how much stuff is there?

***

WILLIAM: Why do you think I'm incapable of doing anything nice?

VANESSA: Experience.

***

AUNT JANE: I love it when you get your comeuppance

MIKE: I love it when you shutuppance

***

ABBY: Hey, what does coffee taste like?

MIKE: Not as good as it smells.

ABBY: Oh, like shampoo.

***

MIKE: Why do people say, 'you'll understand better when you're older'?

MIKE: I'm older now, and I understand nothing

***

AUNT JANE: You're really aiming to be jerk of the year, huh?

MIKE: As reigning champion, are you nervous?

***

MIKE: Don't forget to take a scarf. It’s going to be pretty cold today

ABBY: I love you too.

***

VANESSA: What, I can't be in a bad mood? It's like people think, "Oh, Vanessa is such a nice girl, Vanessa is so happy-go-lucky! Vanessa can't be in a bad mood!" Well, you know what? Vanessa CAN be in a bad mood. And right now, Vanessa is in a very bad mood.

***

AUNT JANE: Degenerate

MIKE: Blocked

AUNT JANE: Unblock me! I got to tell you something important!!

MIKE: Fine, unblocked

AUNT JANE: DEGENERATE!

***

ABBY: Mike won't wake up after he took those pills. What do I do now?

CASSIDY: Did you try kicking him?

ABBY: Just like you suggested

CASSIDY: Then I'm out of ideas.

***

ABBY: Hey, if you put "violently" in front of saying what you're doing, it becomes 100% funnier

VANESSA: Violently dances

MIKE: Violently sleeps

WILLIAM: Violently stabs people.

MIKE: ...Violently worries about the previous comment.

***

MIKE: I don't know about this, Abbs, it's pretty dark in there.

ABBY: Don't worry, I got this.

ABBY: *stomps her feet then her Skechers light up*

***

VANESSA, walking in: What are you doing?

MIKE: Abby's making me watch this horror film about two ex-convicts who try to rob and murder a neglected child.

*Home Alone plays on the TV in the background*

***

AUNT JANE: If you were my husband, I'd poison your coffee

DOUG, internally: If I were your husband, I'd drink it

***

[When Vanessa was a kid]

WILLIAM: *sharpens knife* We got ways of making you talk.

VANESSA:

WILLIAM: *cuts piece of cake*

VANESSA: ...can I have some?

WILLIAM: Cake is for talkers.

***

ABBY, at 3 a.m.: If you work on a farm and your job is to take care of the chickens, then that means you're a chicken tender

MIKE, staring wide-eyed at the ceiling:

***

[Basically, the career counselor scene]

WILLIAM: I can excuse killing children, but I draw the line at not being able to hold a job

MIKE: You can excuse killing children...?!

***

#josh hutcherson #mike schmidt #mike schmidt fnaf #fnaf #five nights at freddy's #fnaf movie #mike and abby schmidt #incorrect fnaf quotes #incorrect quotes #william afton #abby schmidt #vanessa afton #vanessa shelly #aunt jane #Doug

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syrupyyyart · 1 year

Photo

finally, finally finished the ~definitive~ designs for my main Motley girls :’)

Extensive design notes under the cut (mostly for documentation purposes, but also because i like talking about my ocs lol)

In my last post, I introduced the idea of giving each character multiple colors, rather than being one uniform color throughout the design. The idea is that the characters can earn up to 3 new colors as they age+experience new things.

For each color they earn, they’ll wear a new ‘evolved’ version of their previous outfit.

For comparisons sake, here’s the initial pass I took at trying to give my characters more colors:

(euhg. theyre really really ugly. im honestly embarrassed i ever posted these at all lol)

Fact: it’s actually incredibly difficult to design monochrome outfits for characters without the designs looking extremely unfinished (to me, anyways lol). In an attempt to break up the monotony of the monochrome outfit designs, I found myself over relying on the outline colors to fill in their outfit pieces (cherrys pants, limes turtleneck, etc). This hypothetically works, but it ended up causing a lot of confusion as to how many colors the characters had actually earned, especially when the outline color was vastly different from the intended color. Basically, the tl;dr is that over relying on the outline colors felt like cheating, looked bad, and caused a lot of issues.

All of this explanation is to set up the 2 design rules I gave myself for the New Definitive Designs:

1. Outline colors MUST NOT be over relied on, and should be used as sparingly as possible

2. Nothing is sacred. If it looks bad, throw it out!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I also decided to shift around their body types slightly, since I realized that practically every character had the same build with a different height (with the exception of Banana). Marshmallow is a bit curvier, Watermelon is slightly more muscular, etc. And, while you cant really tell because of their baggy outfits, Lime is much boxier and Blueberry is lankier and has wider shoulders than the others.

Finally, here’s some specific design notes for each character, how they changed, and why:

Cherry Pit - Cherry may not have had the most drastic changes, but hers were definitely the most important. She’s had the same hairstyle ever since the first time I drew her (back in ....... middle school lol), and as attached as I was to it, it caused a LOT of problems. It gave her an ugly silhouette, the sharp edges kind of ruined her circle motif, etc. So it had to change. I decided to give her a fluffier hair style to incorporate more round edges into her design, and I truly cannot tell you how many hairstyles I cycled through before I landed on that one. It was major development hell. But I think the new style is much much cuter! Due to story reasons, I also decided to give her 2 outfit colors instead of just one, and she seriously looks so much better because of it. Big fan of Cherrys new design lol

Blueberry Cobbler - Ohhhh where to start with this one. Blueberrys design has always been a headache to me. I found it difficult to draw consistently, and even when I got it to look how I wanted, it still didn’t look very good. So, my goal for her redesign was to overhaul her design while keeping the general idea behind it; most importantly, she needed to be Fun To Draw. So, I changed the silhouette of her sweatshirt by giving her a more exaggerated hood, replaced her bulky zipper with the hanging ties (idk what theyre called lol), and Changed Her Ugly Ass Tights into baggier pants. I also crimped her hair to make it more angular. In the context of this universe, cold colors have naturally colder body temperatures, so they have to wear insulated clothing to stay chilly; the overall baggier clothes really just fixed all of my issues with her design honestly. Better for her personality type, prettier silhouette, in-universe reasoning, etc. Scrumptious.

Lime Pie - I decided to swap out her cargo pants for a long skirt, and let her hair down. This was mostly because, with the monochrome outfit she needed to wear, the turtleneck+cargo pants combo just wouldnt work without looking Pretty Bad. It also helps her outfit stand out a bit more, as she’s now the only character in the main cast that is wearing a skirt. She’s meant to be an inversion of the “nerdy girl lets her hair down and puts on a dress and Now She Is Popular” trope, so the idea is that when she earns her 2nd color, she will start wearing her hair up again, and the cargo pants can come back. Maybe.

Marshmallow Fluff - I honestly hit the nail on the head with this one in the initial batch of concepts I did, so I didnt change much lol. The biggest change is that I made her hair light again. This was because shes obviously meant to have a cloud motif, but her sister (who I rarely post about lol) has a thundercloud motif-- basically, I’m just saying that the darker hair is gonna go to her sister instead.

Banana Pudding - Again, she looks almost exactly the same. I just changed the red outline of her original dress to be less contrasting, since I got a lot of people asking if she’d earned two colors or not. Hopefully, its more clear now that she’s only earned one.

Watermelon Sorbet - As much as I liked her original design, many many people told me she looked like a ‘cool yoga instructor’ character. Which, while not terrible, wasn't exactly what I was going for; she’s meant to be more of an ‘edm dancer’ kind of character. So, I decided to change out her pants for bigger legwarmers that I’m hoping make her look a bit more hyper active.

Thats all my notes lol. I have no idea if anyone is gonna read this far, but if you do, thanks :’) I fully realize that making so many notes about this looks silly, considering theyre OCs and not like ..... widely known characters. So Im sure a lot of what Ive said just sounds like gibberish. But its fun to ME!!!!!!!!

I’ve got more character designs to post over the next week or so; namely, the 3 Antagonists (Grape Soda, Orange Custard, and Angel Cake) + the parents (which includes 2 characters Ive never shown before, but Im very excited to share lol). Those posts wont be accompanied with longwinded notes like this one is; Im just the most excited about these designs and wanted to talk about them.

#motley #cherry pit #blueberry cobbler #lime pie #marshmallow fluff #banana pudding #watermelon sorbet #i am terrified to post this lol #my art #ocs #original characters #original character #oc #idk how to tag oc posts

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wazzappp · 2 months

Text

I drew. a lot for this. Also heads up for non RE mutuals this is going to be. confusing for you. I'm going to do my best to annotate and provide context but you are in for a wild ride.

Anyway long ass lore post for how Lisa and Robbie go from fighting to working together in this AU.

In the RE8 cannon all of the Dimitrescu daughters are made at the same time but for the sake of ✨the situations✨ I am going to change that. Lisa lived the longest as a human before being assimilated into the mold with a Cadou (infecting extension of the Megamycite). Technically her 'sisters' are older than her, as they were assimilated a while ago. Lisa has been a member of house Dimitrescu for about 2 years now. This puts her in this. Weird middle child zone. She wants to make her 'family' proud but she's also aware that what makes them proud isn't really the most achievable thing in the world (expecially with Bela to contend with. Older sibling overachiever to the maximum). She's got a certain degree of distance from them and sometimes wonders if she wasn't better off before all of this. Her memories are fuzzy but still there for the most part. She cant remember faces or names but she remembers feelings and situations. She doesen't remember families being like this (she wants OUT).

Chasing prey brought in is fairly standard for her. It's some of the only entertainment she gets. So when she catches Robbie exploring around the castle she has no idea that he's special in any way. He's just some new guy she gets to mess with before eating and DAMN he's FUN. If she didn't know any better she could almost think that he has experience being chased around (he does. he very much so does. all of RE7's worth). What she ALSO doesn't know is that Mother Miranda (big bad. Different from Lady Dimitrescu, who she refers to as 'mother') is planning on using Gabe (who is replacing baby Rose in this) to try and resurrect her dead kid with a 'perfect vessel' and this requires. uh. disassembly (in the base RE8 gameplay the reason Ethan goes to each house is because uhhhhhhhh his infant daughter has been dismembered and stored in jars and he needs to collect them so he can put her back together.... yeah). Robbie intervenes before this can get going and is instead going house to house because if he wants to get out of this stupid fuckass villiage he needs to collect the key components to unlock the gate keeping him in here (i need him to have a reason. to kill everyone. its important to me ok).

When Lisa finds out this random, but fun guy, she's been chasing who she thought was JUST SOME NORMAL GUY killed one of her sisters she mentally goes 'Oh. OH. THERES A CHANCE FOR ME TO GET OUT OF HERE'. That in conjunction with discovering Mother Miranda is planning on FULLY DISMEMBERING A CHILD she uh. Makes some decisions.

What you have to understand about her plans of matricide is that neither Lady Dimitrescu or her sisters can actually really fully die. Sure, their bodies are gone, but their consciousness is stored in the hive mind and they can reform later after gathering their strength. If she has to put her kinda shitty found family in time out for the sake of getting herself out of here + keeping her newly revived conscience clean she's absolutely going to do it.

(fuckin. backgrounds. dialogue. fuck. why can things not just take place inside of the void. DUKE MY BELOVED WE LOVE AND RESPECT DUKE IN THIS HOUSE HES A REAL ONE fuck now I got it in my head that he keeps trying to play matchmaker for them and i need to. go draw that because its too funny not to.)

Lisas plan involves this lab I had her mention in the comic above. It's where Robbie needs to go to synthesize more poison for the dagger of deaths flowers, and SUPPOSEDLY where a medicine that might allow her to go outside again might be (enemies of Lisas type become SIGNIFICANTLY weaker in the cold. She could try to bundle up but its still really not a good idea). She would love to go there herself, but it's in an area of the castle thats exposed to the cold of the outdoors.

The Two of them make a fairly decent team and Lisa finds herself having a LOT more fun hunting with someone else than she does on her own. They balance each other out pretty well; Robbie works primarily with guns so he can watch Lisas back while she's up close wrecking any grunts they run into. It's also pretty helpful having someone who can turn into a swarm of flies for puzzle solving purposes.

After all this Robbies trust for her increases SIGNIFICANTLY. He's still not really sure about her, but she's moved out of the 'active threat' classification into the 'kinda helpful' zone.

Lisa's plan has three ways it could go:

They all fail miserably and get sent to mental and physical time out in the megamycite.

They win and get to go free but either the medicine isn't there or it doesen't work. In which case she's just planning on getting as many coats as possible and Try-or-Die-ing it.

The medicine is there and she actually gets to roam free

Luckily for her, the medicine IS there, it DOES work, and Robbies sense of honor / noticing her usefulness (its hard to wage a one man war on an entire community of mutants ok you cant blame him for appreciating having some ACTUAL HELP for once) all align for the best possible scenario.

The cold does still affect her; her healing isn't as quick as it usually is and her increased strength / speed is a bit reduced, but she can go!! outside!!

She decided to stick with Robbie in getting out of the village as a whole. She doesen't really know what the world outside is like but anything has to be better than here (plus if she stays here she's probably getting shoved into the Megamycite by Mother Miranda PERMENANTLY and that just. wont do).

Also yes Lisa being with Robbie for the rest of his adventures means that she is there for Heisenbergs 'proposal'. She uh. Does not like that much.

this all made. more sense in my head I hope it at least makes a little sense out loud.

#Ive been trying to write this out for 3 hours now. how do fic writers do this shit. HOW.#moose i thought i understood your 'brainworms of a different type'. i was w r o n g #my art #ghost rider re7 au #lisa (ghost rider)#robbie reyes #gabe reyes #sketch #RE!lisa

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vivmaek · 2 years

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VENUS IN THE 8th HOUSE; Observations

I’ll be honest, sometimes I find myself getting annoyed with how often this placement is talked about. I see it mentioned in nearly every astro post related to love, sex, and beauty. This placement is constantly being discussed. So, I guess it just proves the point that this placement really does draw in a ton of obsessive attention. It is honestly crazy, and in a way I feel bad for those with this placement. I think people overlook all their other qualities in favor of their sexual appeal. It is almost like other people can’t see beyond their appearance and allure. As a result, these natives draw in many people who want to own them rather than get to know them. How is that any fun? These individuals are incredibly sensitive and deserve to experience deep love. Instead, they find themselves surrounded by jealousy and a life plagued by themes of possession. The love they received growing up was not safe and consistent, making it hard for them to navigate adult relationships. They themselves are possessive over others because the only times in which they felt valued was when they were possessed. They have an incredibly difficult time distinguishing between love and possession, and find themselves trapped within a cycle of codependent relationships. They are in constant need of a “favorite person” who will help them walk through the difficult aspects of life. They hold a deep mistrust towards others and will test people to see how far their loyalty actually goes. To make things more frustrating, these types are not the most forthcoming with their feelings. They often play a game of hot and cold, not because they’re purposely trying to hurt others, but because they’re afraid of vulnerability. Those with this placement have a lot of love to give, so they’re not willing to give this up to someone who they can’t trust. However, during these periods in which they are single, they ponder about what type of person they could give this love to instead of giving it to themselves. It is important for them to build up a strong sense of self love, otherwise they’re always going to be searching for outside validation. They also enter many secret relationships. There is always an excuse for these secrets, but ultimately it comes back to these types not wanting to be open and vulnerable. They feel more comfortable expressing love in the shadows. But this behavior only impedes their growth. People with this placement want to immediately jump to the deeper aspects of a relationship without realizing that it's important to move through the surface level first. In relationships, the darker more taboo aspects will appear before learning about the partners public life. Ultimately, there is a lot of conflict hidden behind the glamor of Venus, leaving these natives unsure of where exactly they stand within relationships.

I'm sorry if this feels critical, I just feel as though there are deeper aspects of Venus being in the 8th house that aren't explored. There is more to this placement other than sex and beauty.

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mewtwoandme · 1 year

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You know. It's incredibly pretentious to make your self insert OC the one who has the biggest positive impact on Mewtwo, not even Ash comes close to it despite turning his world upside down. Especially that your self insert hasn't really shown any single negative trait so far and that you added a tons of emotional problems to Mewtwo that weren't present in the anime or the movies (like his fear of partnership, suicidal thoughts etc...) turning him into an entirely different character so that your self insert will be the one who helps Mewtwo to overcome them. So yes, Lakota is the very definition of a Mary Sue.

I LOVE how some people still think Lakota is a self insert, I laugh my good sir or ma'am, I laugh XD Think what ya want, I guess. If anything, she is the type of person I WISH I was lol. She is entirely her own character. Believe me, if she was truly a self insert of me and what I'm really like, she wouldn't be very likable.

Also, the definition of a Mary Sue, and I quote is "a type of female character who is depicted as unrealistically lacking in flaws or weaknesses." Which for Lakota is false. She has her flaws and weaknesses. One of her major flaws we continue to see is that she tries to be everyone's rock and anchor, and hardly focuses on her own feelings, which may come back and bite her eventually. Just because I don't visually draw out a scenario for every problem she has for you all to see, doesn't mean she doesn't have her own issues :V

Also there's nothing wrong with a character who has a lot of empathy and cares about her family, and is willing to help them if they need it. I guess some people such as yourself have never received such kindness before though.

And as far as Mewtwo's emotional issues, that's just a little thing called 🌈character development/building🌈 sweetie. I touch on topics that most cartoons are hesitant to. And of course he's not gonna have the same personality as he did in the films, do you know how boring that would be? Like yeah, we get it, a cold and emotionally constipated psychic cat who broods and contemplates his purpose and existence all the time....There's only so much you can do with that, I chose to extend his character a little. I try to make Mewtwo feel a little more relatable and real with the emotions I make him experience, realistically based on everything he went through both in the first movie and in Detective Pikachu, trust issues and ptsd/trauma are very understandable and real emotions I think people would experience if they endured what Mewtwo had to go through. But I guess according to you, that's a big no no, well uhhh...ya know? Too bad. :V

I write my story and characters how I want to. I don't need your or anyone's validation or approval. How about YOU make your own version of Mewtwo and YOU come up with a personality that suits him to YOUR liking, rather than wasting your and my time, sending a paragraph long ask, bitching about mine, kay? 😘

#answered ask #anonymous ask

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elumish · 1 year

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What Medical Stuff Feels Like (The Stabby Bits)

Content warning for needles, blood, general medical stuff.

Also strong caveat that all of this is exactly one person's experience (mine) and so 1) may not be what you experience, 2) may not match up with other descriptions you've read, and 3) is not being written by a medical professional.

Blood Draw: Blood draws are generally done with a fairly thin needle that they stick in the crook of your elbow. It hurts, but from my experience it hurts the same way getting a flu shot hurts, just for longer--kind of a sharp pinch. If they're taking multiple things of blood, it takes longer, but they're not taking the needle in and out; it's one needle and then multiple vials that they attach, fill with blood, and then detach. If you're getting multiple tests, they'll take multiple things of blood.

Generally when it starts they'll ask you which is your better side, but often they'll check both sides anyway by looking at them/hitting the crook of the elbow with their hand to make the veins pop up. Then they tie the stretchy blue tourniquet around your upper arm (which kind of hurts) and have you make a fist. And then they stick the needle in.

For me, having the needle taken out is the part that hurts the most. After that, they have you press a little swab thing to it to stop it bleeding, and then they either put a band-aid over it (ideal) or tape the swab thing to your arm (less ideal, sometimes it involves wrapping something around your elbow, which then bunches up when you bend your arm, and it's annoying). This bleeds very little, but sometimes there's a small amount of blood on the band-aid.

IV: IVs are done with thicker needles and are left in your for longer periods of time. The three places I've had IVs are the crook of my elbow, my forearm, and my hand, and from my experience that is also definitely the order from "least bad" to "most bad". If you're admitted to the ER, they'll sometimes give you an IV to give you saline; that's actually a smaller bore than is required to give contrast, apparently, so if you then need to do an imaging test that requires contrast they may need to give you a second IV on your other arm (very not ideal).

Sometimes it'll be cold where the IV is, especially if they're giving you something like saline, because that spot is where the colder-than-your-body-temperature liquid is entering you.

From my experience, I have good veins for blood draws but not great veins for IVs, and they often have a hell of a time successfully getting a vein (which is, again, not ideal). If that goes poorly enough, it starts to bleed when they eventually take the IV out, which can be kind of scary.

If they're having a lot of trouble finding a vein, sometimes they'll use a vein finder, which is a really cool thing that projects a light on you that shows where your veins are. It's supposed to do something when the needle hits the vein so they stop poking around in you.

Like with blood draws, there's basically a port that's left attached to you, and they attach whatever they need to to it, like a saline bag or direct medicine. There doesn't need to be something attached to it, so often they'll detach you from something long before they actually remove the port. They don't to have to put it back, so it's left until the last minute.

IV marks will last longer/be visible for a while--I think it was months before the little dot on my hand finally faded. If they aren't done well or if it takes some poking around, they can also cause huge bruises.

Needle Biopsy: A needle biopsy is one type of biopsy, where they basically extract a piece of whatever it is that they need to study (this is as opposed to something like an excisional biopsy, where they take out the entire thing). From my experience, there are generally two types of needles actually involved here: lidocane (or some equivalent) and then the actual needle to remove the sample.

First, they inject the lidocane. Different people take different amounts of lidocane, so they usually have a few and will add more as necessary (to a point). This (mostly) stops it from hurting, though it doesn't stop it entirely, and it doesn't stop the feeling of pressure (which can be fairly strong depending on where they're taking the sample from).

Next, they use the needle to take the sample. At this point, it (mostly) doesn't really hurt, but from my experience you can still feel it. It also makes a noise, which they show you beforehand, I think mostly so it doesn't freak you out and so you don't flinch. It sounds like a stapler.

They take a few samples; if they're pulling samples from multiple things, I think they take a few from each. This means that each time, they stick the needle in, they make the staple noise, they take the needle out.

At least for what I was having, this was done aided by an ultrasound--I'm not sure if that's standard for all needle biopsies.

For at least a few days beforehand and after, I was told to only take acetaminophen (Tylenol) and not NSAIDs or aspirin, and I think that's pretty standard.

#medical #blood #needles #please tell me if there's anything else i need to tag for

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