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oval3000 · 7 months

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Chapter 3

Yandere Psych Patient König x Nurse Reader

Warning: Possesive, Obsession, Death, Gore, Blood, Smut, Toxic behavior, age gap.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

(This might suck idk. I don't know German so it's all Google translate)

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He hasn't left his room for a month. They kept him in their with the straitjacket on. His meals are just vitamins that he has to swallow. You would go in to check up on him, but new orders from the administrator's to not go near at all, so you pass by his room. You would peak through the little window and see him laying on his back with little no to motion on his arms or body entirely. His psychiatrist, Dr. Smith is the only that goes in there. They have sessions in his room instead of the usual spot they have it in.

She was pissed at everyone, specifically you. You are her punching bag, even though it was Ben's fault. "Why hasn't he been given his meds!" She yelled at you.

"We are not allowed to go i-" you tried to explain your her, but she could care less.

"You are his nurse right! Your job is to give him his meds! How did you graduate when you can't even do that!" She yelled at you.

You plead for her to listen to you "I'm sorry, Dr. Smith. I can't it's Mr. Millers orders. No one can go in except you because you are his psychiatrist."

So she strolled her way to the administrator's office.

Ignoring his assistant from telling her that she can't go in. Slaming the door open to see him sitting on his chair, writing whatever cral he writes on paper.

"Sarah calm down!"

"Do you have any idea how dangerous he is, and you want me to deal with him alone! On top of that the lack of guards is making my job harder!" Dr. Smith argued with a hand on her hips and her finger pointing towards Ben.

"Do you remeber when you wanted a nurse to look after him." She rolled her eyes. Yes, you, the nurse. "Do you have any idea how much money is going towards her. Triple the pay for looking after him."

Her hands swing in motion, showing her frustration. "She can't even do her fucking job Ben!"

"If she's alive, then she's doing her job well. What's making this hard, is you barging into my office and telling me what to do when you are the one demanding this." He stood up from his chair, fixing his navy tie. "We're loosing staff. People don't want to go near him. Gabriel is threatening to sue the company. Gaurds are quiting left and right so sorry that there aren't enough staff attending your needs."

She crossed her arms with an annoying sigh leaving her lips tinted with red lipstick. "Then hire more people, I don't see the problem?"

"Did you not hear what I said" he walked towards her, standing toe to toe to her. "Majority of our budget is going towards (Y/n). She's been here for two months now, lasting longer than any other nurses. We can't afford another hire with the same pay to deal with König. Besides he hasn't actually killed anyone in those two months, I'll take that than dealing with someone who has a broken jaw from a simple punch."

"Then ask for more money." She scuffed like if it was a joke she said.

He laughed at her face, "Do you think the government cares to fund more for this place, I already have the staff on my ass for new medical supplies, do you think they are gonna hand me the budget to hire someone with triple pay just because you are scared."

"Then fire (y/n) and hire a new guard, maybe someone with military experience."

"Why would I do that. You came into my office, spreaded your legs cause you were so desperate for a nurse and now you want me to fire her. She hasn't done anything in particularly wrong."

"She doesn't follow orders!"

"She does, you just make it difficult." He came in defense.

"Wasn't she trying to stop you from putting him into a straitjacket?" She smirked while her arms crossed at her chest.

"Yes, and she was right. Putting him in a straitjacket does nothing. He was fine it's just that..." he closed his eyes taking deep breath.

"Just what?" She came closer to him, placing her hand on his shoulder, gently caressing it.

He turned his head to her, he used to lovy dovey with her seduction, but now it's more annoyance. "Eli, the other guard, came to my office the other day and told me that Gabriel was provoking König."

She rolled her eyes, looking around his office. Paying attention to the paintings hanged up on the wall and the light objects he has on his desk. "Like what? Making fun of him? We all make fun the people here what else is new?"

"I don't know the full details, but that's what he told me." He sat a bit on his desk.

"Why does that matter?" She shook her head without a single thought in her brain.

"Gabriel is threatening to sue us. If we fight the legal action, we'll have to defend König. König, just like any other patient represent us, our care. If they find out that Gabriel was the one that caused this, making König the victim it doesn't look good after we placed him in the straitjacket. Like we silencing him out. It will ruin our reputation, we'll all loose our jobs and you fucked your way up here for nothing."

"But he harmed a worker, beside murdered multiple people." She let out a little chuckle, placing her hand on his chest.

He didn't give in, instead, he gave her a stare. "He's ex- military and as for you being his psychiatrist, you'll have to speak on behalf of him. Meaning that people will find out about you, how you never studied to become a doctor you fucked every professor you had to get your degree."

"What are you saying, Ben." Her smile dropped.

"I won't fire (Y/n). She stood up for König, making us look like we care about our patients. As for Gabriel, all he's asking is for some 20,000 thousand dollars, which we can easily give him worth than standing infront of the judge. Which means that we can't afford new guards for you. Besides they're taking off his straitjacket today, so stop being so scared and do your dam job."

"I still think you should fire, (Y/n) atleast." She hummed, wrapping her arms around his waist.

"I'm not doing that. Beside she's the only staff that doesn't barge in here demanding stuff. She nice and sweet...." he looked down to the side, " and...young and beautiful. "

She let go of his waist, clenching her jaw. Yes, you being so beautiful. "So what? You want to fuck her? Is that it. Never head young pussy before?"

"You should leave, I have work to do and so do you. This discussion is over." He walked to his desk, sitting down on his chair, unbutton his last few buttons from his dark, navy, blazer.

She stormed off his office, angrly stomping on the white tile floors with her heels creating a louder noise.

You heard the word going around that their taking of his straitjacket, so you quickly gathered what you need to check him up. You saw as the guards took off. He let out a big stretched, flexing more of his muscles. It caused a scare to the guards like a lion letting out a roar.

You walked up to and saw more of his face. He stared at you.

He missed you. He never thought he would miss you. During that month of not seeing you was a time he contemplated about you. Are you made for him or not. He will shut his eyes and images of you will pop up. You smiling at him. Taking good care of him. Watching you squirm under him as you take his full length cock inside your pussy. He'll treat you with respect as long as you do what he says that's all. Seeing your belly swell up with his baby. Can't wait to fuck your tits filled with milk. Can't wait to impregnate you with multiple of his children, making one big happy family. How protective he'll be for his kids, for you. To stand up to the bullies, to show them not to be scared of anything. To hold them if they cry.

He should kill you for making him react this way. He should just kill you. You are just another nurse thinking they have control over him. He use to give orders to people, being the colonel and all, he got the respect he fought for, why does he feel weak around you. You are so sweet and joyful to him. If he was back in the field and saw you, would he kill you. Or maybe fuck you. Maybe that's it. He hasn't done it in so long, so long he hasn't touch a women. He should've just fucked one of the other nurses. Yes, maybe he should do that. Fuck a nurse, just to see. I mean what's the harm in that.

"Aah...yes. right there ngh.... yes...oh fuck that feels good."

The sound of König's footsteps were low that they couldn't hear over the sound of skin slapping against eachother. Watching a men fucking his girlfriend on his bed.

"Does your boyfriend fuck you like this?" Slaming her ass back and forth on his cock.

"Ah....a-aah....he-..he could barley...make me- fuck!..mmgh....wet." She grip the bedsheets hard while he kept pounding her.

No. No. He can't. Not you. He can't. He can't betray you like they did. He can't imagine the face you'll make if you know he fucked another girl. No he should be pure to you. You should be the only one he touches.

He needs you. Okay, it's done. He'll make you his and you'll love him. You'll love him and care for him. Rather you like him or not it's done.

You wrapped the cuff around his bicep and squeeze the bulb reading the numbers on the circle, writing it down. Doing the usual things you have studied for. As you were checking his heartbeat, he reached up which caused you to flinch a bit. His index finger, gently, caressing your cheek. Your back was turned to the guards, making it hard them to see what's going. You stared at him as he touched you with such charisma. His thumb reaching to your chin, hovering over your lips. He placed the tip of his thumb on your bottom lip, gently pulling it out a bit.

You shouldn't have this feeling at the pit of your stomach. You couldn't tell of you didn't smack his hand away because you are scared or because you enjoy it. You never had this much attention, not like this.

"I don't have time to argue with you (Y/n)! Go to your room!" The little girl tuged at her moms shirt.

"Where's daddy?" She felt tears running down her face as her mother poured more wine into her glass, already finishing up the fresh new bottle.

"(Y/n)! Seriously go to room! You are such a headache! Why couldn't your father take you with him! Nauseating!" She dranked the entire glass, slamming the cup on the table.

"Where's daddy?" She said one last time not letting go of her blanket. The same blanket her father got her when she told him she was cold.

"HE LEFT! HE LEFT US (Y/N)! LEFT US FOR THAT BITCH! AND NOW I'M STUCK HERE WITH YOU. HE RUINED MY LIFE. I COULD'VE DONE SOOOO MANY THINGS! But no! I'm stuck to take care of a brat!"

He palmed your cheek, feeling your warmth. He went in closer to you. You could feel his hot breath, quicken as he got closer to your lips.

You pulled back, "I shouldn't- we shouldn't. I mean." You whispered to him.

"Mein liebling (my darling)." He whispered to you. The first time he spoke to you. You couldn't understand him, but he spoke to you. "Du bist mein (you are mine)." He pulled you closer to him, he didn't care if the guards were staring, if anything, he enjoys it. To show everyone that he is yours to touch. "Mein schatz (my sweetheart)," his lips were hovering yours, you felt a little tingle at how close he was.

You know this shouldn't happen. You turned your away from his. You walked back, feeling his grasp letting go. He stared at you witch a smile on his face. You saw the smile he gave you.

When your shift ended and went back to your apartment, the thoughts of what happened lingered into your mind.

That night, you couldn't sleep. He was in your dreams. What if you never pulled way. Were you really going to kiss him. You glazed over the parts where he touched you.

You searched the words he said to you to translate it. Sweetheart, darling, mine.

You felt the butterflies in your stomach again. You never felt so complicated before.

Having a crush on a patient.

You have a crush on König.

#cod modern warfare #cod mw2 #cod x reader #fanfic #konig x reader #yandere konig #yandere könig #konig #könig x y/n #könig x reader #könig cod #könig #könig mw2 #könig call of duty

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haute-pockette · 23 days

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There is so much untapped potential in DW running into old companions. The School Reunion episode was such a good story and I want more. It doesn't even have to be whole episodes. Just acknowledging them even. The Doctor and companion getting into trouble and arrested. He uses his one call and ten minutes later the officers are baffled as they let them go. King Steven Taylor just pardoned this weirdo! An adventure doesn't go so well. A young child being left parentless, the Doctor knows they'll be in good care at an orphanage run by Polly and Ben. One of the companions get sick with a weird disease that doesn't make itself apparent until after they get back into the Tardis.... Better take them to get treated at one of the best medical research hospitals in the galaxy. So off to visit Nyssa. Visiting the planet Trion and reminiscing about a cynical ginger he used to know.

The Tardis landed a bit too far away from where they need to go or the Doctor needs to chase after an alien. Cut to an outside shot of UNIT with the Doctor speeding out of there in Bessie (companion holding on for dear life). I just crave more call backs and connections to the wider whoniverse.

#Doctor Who #The Doctor #Steven Taylor #Ben Jackson #Polly Wright #Nyssa of Traken #Vislor Turlough #UNIT

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zepskies · 9 days

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Wake Me Up - Part 4

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Reader

Summary: A few weeks after you and Ben celebrate your first Christmas together, Ben is returning from another mission with the Supe Affairs team. When he discovers that you’ve been taken, he’ll do whatever it takes to find you. And then, to help you heal.

AN: The moment we've all been waiting for...

Song Inspo: “I Can Read Your Mind” by the Doobie Brothers.

Word Count: 4.6K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! PTSD, medical trauma, angst, hurt/comfort, smut and feels (and "herb" smoking lol).

💚 Wake Me Up Masterlist || Break Me Down Masterlist

Part 4: “The Power in You”

In the morning, you woke before the man sleeping beside you. The longer you stared at his peaceful face, the more you wanted to remember why your heart ached just looking at him. And after last night, you couldn’t doubt him anymore.

Ben cared about you. Your heart could even hope to believe that he loved you, even if that hope surprised you.

He made you feel comfortable and warm. He made you feel safe.

So with these thoughts on your mind, you carefully slipped out of bed and got freshened up for the day. You tried to be as quiet as possible, and when you padded out into the living room on bare feet, you found the rest of the apartment empty.

Marie must’ve gone to work already, you realized, as it was nearly 10:00 a.m. Instead of going into the kitchen for your usual ritual of coffee and rummaging for breakfast, you found yourself all too curious about the man still snoring down the hall.

You decided to venture into the office you apparently shared with him. There was a big crate of vinyl records, a few of which featured Ben on them with various artists of the 70s and 80s. The cheesy album covers made you smile in amusement.

You moved on to the books on the shelves. Most of these seemed to be from your collection, as you recognized your favorites. Your fingers brushed over their dusty spines.

The pads of your fingers paused over something binder-like, not book-like. You pulled it out and realized it was a photo album. So, bringing it over to Ben’s large leather chair, you sat down and flipped it open.

The first pictures were in black and white. You didn’t recognize the young woman in one of them. Not until you saw her again next to a tall, stoic looking man, who had Ben’s facial structure and broad frame. You saw the young and cocky versions of Ben distilled in sepia tones, and it made a smirk pull at your lips.

The further you flipped through the album, the more your attention got sucked in. There was an old-school polaroid of you with Frenchie and Kimiko, sharing milkshakes. Then you and Annie, clinking cocktails together. Followed by you and M.M. trying to beat Butcher at Backgammon.

And then one of you, your friend Yvette, and her son Devon in Central Park. Another beside it, on that same day, where Ben had an arm raised high and parallel to the ground, and Devon clung onto his arm with a wide smile.

You brushed your fingers over that picture in wonder. You didn’t remember that day, even though you were sure you must have been there…

It was so odd to see so much of your life in pictures, yet it was all still so fuzzy, or entirely blank in your mind.

You paused, blushing once again when you saw the picture of you getting out of the shower with the towel barely wrapped around you. Why the hell would this be in a photo album?

You quickly moved on. Though you stopped next at a picture of you and Ben in what looked like a dark nightclub. The way he was holding you, looking at you like he was ready to devour you, and the way you were looking up at him, with a smile that said he’d better damn well try…

It made a sharp pain lance behind your eyes.

You gasped and held a hand to your temple, flinching at the sudden sensation. You’d taken your medication. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

But your vision altered. In your mind’s eye, you saw a dark club where people were dancing to Latin pop. You were clothed in black leather and flashing lights, and someone was spinning you across the dance floor.

As the scenes began to change in flashes, the pain in your head intensified. You whimpered and gripped your head with both hands. The photo album slid off your lap and to the floor.

You remembered being tied to a chair, staring up at Ben’s stoic face. And there were so many other faces you knew that you knew: Hughie and Annie, M.M., Butcher, Kimiko, Frenchie, Frank, Loco, Saul, your mother and sister, Grace, Stan Edgar, your father, Jon…

And Ben. He was standing over you, with worried eyes. You were pinned to the ground this time—a sharp pain in your shoulder.

“Stay awake.” It was both an order and a plea as the walls of a tower fell around you.

But it mixed with flashes of a knife carving across your flesh. Of demands and questions over and over as you resisted.

No, no, no, no…

You didn’t realize that you’d screamed loud enough to reverberate on the walls. You didn’t hear the thundering footsteps that brought Ben tearing into the office. He took one wide-eyed look at you, slumped and huddling on the floor, rocking yourself, holding your head with both hands, and he got down to one knee in front of you.

“What’s wrong?” he demanded, grabbing your shoulders.

You couldn’t speak. And to Ben, it didn’t seem like you were even hearing him as tears slipped down your face.

“Hey!” he barked, startling you with a flinch, but you blinked faster and looked up at him. Part of him felt a measure of relief at that small victory.

“Tell me what's happening,” he said, with deeply furrowed brows.

He held your face in his hands, and he could feel you shaking under his grasp. You uttered an agonized sound and grabbed onto his wrists, shutting your eyes tight.

“It hurts!” you managed to grit out. “Hurts bad this time.”

For the second time in his long life, Ben felt helpless. That feeling clawed through his stomach and up into his throat. It was like he was watching you fall apart, and he couldn’t do anything to stop it.

…No. His jaw locked as he ground his teeth. No. He wasn’t going to let you break.

“Wait here,” he said. He didn't want to move you, in case that made it worse.

He left you briefly just to grab his cell phone, but he was calling Dr. Jeong on his way back to you. There he kneeled on the ground and pulled you close while he waited for the damn doctor to answer. You clung to his shirt, pressed your face into his chest and wept hot tears.

Ben dropped the phone when you cringed, with a pained cry. He called your name and tried to pry you off him just enough so that he could see your face.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he muttered, pressing a hand to your cheek. “Hey! Look at me!”

There was a long moment where you couldn’t answer him.

Then, slowly, slowly…the pulsing behind your eyes and at the back of your head began to recede. Not all the way, but enough to blink your eyes open and release a breath. You were trembling, with your fingers wound tightly in Ben’s shirt. You were able to let go.

You blinked certain shadows out of the corners of your eyes while you caught your breath. When you next looked up at Ben, you saw that his face was tight with apprehension. It confused you.

“Ben?” you prompted. He took your hand, whether to steady you or himself, he’d never tell.

“What the fuck was that?” he said, his voice edged.

You blinked in shock for a moment as you caught your breath. Then, your lips twitched at a smile.

Ah, you recognized his polite way of asking if you were okay.

“Wow. That’s my caring boyfriend,” you said wryly.

Ben’s expression slackened. You became even more confused, and a little concerned, especially by the fact that you were sitting in his lap, but you both were on the ground.

“What?” you asked him. Why was he looking at you like that? What was happening here?

Ben quirked his head at you in wonder.

“How long have we lived here?” he asked.

Your brows furrowed. Why was he asking you that? But he looked dead serious, like this was a test of some kind.

“Almost a year. What, is your memory fading already?” You joked weakly, despite the way your head was still aching, just much less intense than before.

You realized then that the photo album you made for him for Christmas was on the floor, a couple of pictures displaced.

“What’s this doing on the floor?” You bent over to pick it up, even though just that small movement made your head swim. “Whoa…”

Ben grasped your arms and righted you. He stared into your eyes.

“Do you remember what happened two months ago?” he asked.

He was so damn serious, he was starting to scare you. When you contemplated his question, you realized the fog that had claimed your mind for so long was beginning to lift.

Piece by piece, it returned to you.

You remembered waking up in the hospital, everyone coming to see you, the doctor telling you…

“Something happened to me,” you said slowly, rubbing your aching forehead. Your brows furrowed, and you clung to Ben’s arm. “Am I…am I okay?”

That’s what the fuck I’m trying to figure out, Ben thought.

He reminded you that you were taken by Jackson Rawlins and his brother Tom. Ben, Butcher, and the rest of the team found you, but you’d been hurt. Along with your other injuries, your skull was fractured. It affected your memory, among other things.

“My memory,” you repeated. “Ben, did I…?”

You looked up at him with a small gasp. His face remained stoic, but you saw through it as his gaze veered away from you.

You remembered that he’d been taking care of you with your mother for weeks now. You remembered that you’d forgotten him.

You took his face in your trembling hands. Both sorrow and apology showed in your eyes, along with brimming tears.

“Oh, baby. I’m so sorry,” you said, through choked emotion. “I can’t believe I…”

Ben didn’t speak, but he met your gaze while trying to stamp down the full force of his relief. He swallowed past an unfamiliar tightening in his throat.

“What do you remember?” he asked.

“That you saved me, as usual,” you laughed through your tears. “And that I owe you this.”

Your thumbs brushed his bearded cheeks in a tender caress, and you brought him down to kiss you. His lips met yours in kind as his eyes closed. He let out a breath through his nose and held you a bit tighter against him. Part of him was still wary of hurting you further, and reluctant to even accept this as real.

After a moment longer, you paused, pulling back a little.

“I guess I’m back,” you said, in the small space between his face and yours.

Ben sighed. He brushed the back of his hand against your cheek, and he claimed your lips again.

Dr. Jeong arrived within the hour to check you over, and to confirm that most of your memories had returned. Meanwhile, her team of nurses checked your vitals and prepped you for a blood transfusion from Ben. In your bedroom, you sat up on your side of the bed while a bag of his O-positive circulated into your bloodstream.

A couple of hours of bed rest later, your body was completely healed, and even free of scars. The powerful ache in your head that had become commonplace had vanished. And afterward, the doctors took up their supplies and left.

You were finally able to take in your familiar surroundings. Your fingertips passed over picture frames on your dresser, the ornate perfume bottle Ben had gotten you for Christmas, your favorite throw blanket you’d tossed carelessly onto the floor this morning. You paused for a moment to look at yourself in the mirror.

It was odd to see yourself dressed in a tank top and pajama pants, slightly frizzy hair around your shoulders, your skin free of any scars. You touched your cheek tentatively, marveling at the way you didn’t feel any pain.

Ben’s frame appeared behind you, as did his hands on your hips. You turned in his arms and pulled him into an embrace. You smiled at the warmth you felt through his shirt. Your own portable heater.

“What’re you thinking?” he asked. He had to wonder at how easily you’d slipped yourself into his arms just now. Yet another small reminder that you were his again.

In answer to his question, you gave a hum of contemplation, all while your hands moved down his back. You looked up at him, your lips curving into a smile.

“I think you can guess this time,” you replied.

Ben’s eyes roamed over you, over your face, your body held in his arms, and back up to your lips.

One more added perk of your “medical treatment” had you pulling him down to you by his shirt for a heated kiss. His strength coursed through your veins, making you more solid and energized than when you were once on V24.

Ben heeded your demanding kiss with a near growl as he took you into his arms and walked you back towards the bed. A warning triggered in his mind, however. It had him cupping the back of your head and laying you down with more gentleness than he usually had with you in times like these.

Not to say that he was overly rough with you, but as he positioned himself above you and began to undress you, tank top and pants flung to the floor, you noticed how careful he was being. After you helped him get rid of his own shirt and pants, you slowed things down for a moment, once again caressing his cheek. It encouraged him to meet your eyes.

“Hey,” you said quietly. “You know I’m pretty much as strong as you right now, right? You won’t hurt me. I’m not in pain anymore.”

Ben nodded, releasing a sharp breath. “Right.”

He knew that, of course. He’d just had to get used to treating you like fragile glass over the past two months. Every time he’d helped you, touched you, cared for you, he’d had to use every ounce of his self-control to temper his strength even more so than usual. It was hard to turn that off.

You smiled. An idea sparked in your head, and you pushed at his chest to let you sit up. There you encouraged him to roll over and switch positions, so that he was lying on his back and you were straddling his hips. You slid your hands up his toned stomach and chest and you bent down to kiss his neck.

He closed his eyes as you burned a wet path across his skin. Your lips traveled down his chest, where he slid his fingers into your hair. It prompted you to look up at him with a smile. Seeing him watching you with half-lidded eyes made a small flood of heat pool between your legs.

You couldn’t help but move back up and guide his face up to yours for a kiss. He deepened it pretty much immediately, his tongue hungrily demanding entrance to your mouth as you began rocking your hips against his.

His hands tightened on your waist, but they soon slid up your sides to unclip your bra. He slid down the panties next, and you broke away for a moment to shimmy them down your thighs. You helped him do the same with his underwear.

He gripped at your thighs and ass hard enough to leave serious bruises, if you were normal. Right now though, your bones, your skin, your touch was just as strong as his. Now, his iron grip just made you smile.

The feeling of your smooth, warm skin under his hands, your wet folds brushing against his straining cock, the promise between your thighs, it all made him groan into your mouth. He sat up and held you to him, skin against flushed skin, your breasts pressing against his chest. He grinded his thick, hard length against your core, earning a breathy moan from you.

“Fuck, I’ve fucking missed you,” he admitted. He fisted a hand into your hair and bared your neck for him. He trailed wet kisses that occasionally grazed with teeth. You shuddered against him as your hands splayed against his back.

“Ben, I’m so sorry,” you whispered in his ear. You held him tighter for a different reason.

“Enough,” he said. His words were gruff, but he soothed a hand through your hair. “It’s over. We’re here now.”

You nodded, biting your lip and blinking against the sting of tears.

What you didn’t know was, the last thing he wanted was for you to apologize to him. He couldn’t fucking tolerate it.

Instead, he reached a hand between you and slid a hand down the inside of your thigh, and then two fingers between your folds, and into your wet heat. He wasted no more time in working you open.

He drew a hot moan from you, one that echoed in his ear while his thumb found your clit, and the rest of his fingers toyed with your pussy. You ached to be filled, and your core was already throbbing around his fingers.

You gripped his hair tight. Your hips began to undulate with the tempo of his pulsing fingers.

“Ben,” you implored and whined at the same time. Your inner walls were squeezing his hand tight as his fingers brushed with purpose over that sensitive place, deep inside you.

“That’s right. Fucking squeeze the shit out of me,” he demanded. “Want you gushing all over my hand.”

“You’re about to get what you want,” you panted. “Fuck…”

He didn’t care that your iron grip was threatening to rip a chunk out of his hair. He was stroking you with single-minded precision, until you finally clamped down that much harder on his hand and gasped in his ear. To him, that sound was his own personal symphony. He never got tired of making you come apart, and making you sing just for him.

And you…well, you certainly never got tired of letting him. This time though, you’d wanted to be on top so you could be the one to make him feel good—and give him a little care after everything that had happened. But you couldn’t even argue when Ben rolled you onto your back again. Still, you slid your hands over his chest.

“I wanted to give you some star treatment,” you said breathlessly. You began to sit up again. “Here, let me—”

“You’re gonna let me fuck you deep into this fucking mattress ‘til we break a few springs,” he said. “That sound good for you?”

He bent down and sucked hard at your neck. Meanwhile, he grabbed your thighs and hooked your legs over his shoulders.

“O-Okay,” you agreed, your eyes closing. You gasped as he bit down just under your ear, marking you as his, and earning another gasp of pleasure from you as your body pressed against his.

Then he lined his cock up to your entrance. Once he breached your folds, your squeezing grip on his arms encouraged him to sheathe himself inside you, sliding all the way home.

You shuddered at the delicious feeling of being filled. Your heels pressed into his back, urging him to keep moving. He still took the time to brush his hand against your cheek, a tender caress.

You blinked up at him with a smile. He gave you one back, albeit more reserved. In turn, you swept his hair away from his eyes, like you were wont to do. He secretly reveled in the feeling of it, the familiarity of you. He turned his head and laid a kiss against your wrist.

But after that brief flash of tenderness, Ben pushed forward, quite literally, to steal your breath away. Each new stroke of his cock deep inside you made the coil of warmth and pleasure tighten, for both of you. The sound of mingled breaths and flesh against flesh filled the room as you two moved together. And in this, you two had always been in sync.

His hand moved between you to circle roughly at your clit.

“Come on, baby. At least one more for me.”

You nodded, panting for breath. You moved the angle of his hand to just right, and his last pounding strokes finally drove you over the edge. You came shortly before he did, spilling into you with hot abandon and a ragged sound in his throat.

You two recovered there for a moment. He rested his forehead against yours, and again, you swept your fingers through his sweaty hair.

Eventually, he pulled back and opened his eyes to meet yours. He grasped your free hand off his shoulder and pressed a kiss into your palm. Then he smirked down at you.

“Welcome home,” he said.

Long afterwards, your body felt like warm molasses. You’d both gotten cleaned up and now shared the bed properly in rest. You were half-dozing while you laid warm, comfortable, and naked in his arms.

You’d called your mom earlier to let her know what had happened today, and that you’d recovered fully following the blood transfusion…and if she wanted to grab dinner with Louisa tonight before coming home, then that would give you and Ben some time to “catch up.”

Thankfully, Marie had enough tact to read between the lines. She told you that she’d be back later this evening, and Louisa would come to visit you again tomorrow.

You were at peace as you trailed lazy patterns across Ben’s chest while he smoked a blunt.

He deserves it, you thought with a smile. That led you to shift onto your side and rest your weight on your elbow, above his shoulder.

“You know something?” you said. “Thank you for being so gentle with me throughout all this. I know I didn’t always give you an easy time of it.”

Ben shook his head, smiling slightly before he blew out a puff.

“What else is fucking new?” he said. You smiled too, but you still grabbed his chin, so he’d look at you.

“I’m serious,” you said. “Thank you.”

He sobered, letting out another coil of smoke through his nose.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

Your head quirked. You released him to caress his cheek instead.

“Yeah, babe. I’m all healed up now,” you reassured.

“Not entirely what I meant,” he said. He hesitated, his gaze dropping, before it met yours again. “…It took us three days to find you.”

That made you dim with more sobering consideration, when you realized what he meant. You had finally remembered what you went through with the Rawlins brothers, held captive in that dark, disgusting cave. A shudder ran down your spine.

Those memories had only just returned to you a few hours ago, and you’d immediately shut them away in the “don’t file this into your core memories” pile. You really hadn’t had too much time to reflect on that, or even process it all really.

Tears stung at your eyes, and your lower lip trembled, but you tried to breathe past it, closing your eyes.

“I’m okay now. It’s in the past,” you said.

In other words, denial of the purest form.

Ben shook his head with a sigh. He put out his blunt on the ashtray on his nightstand, setting it aside. He slid a hand up your back and gathered you closer against his chest. You rested your head there.

You sucked in a tremulous breath, and your tears finally fell. You sniffed and tried to bat them away, but you let the sound of his heartbeat steady you.

What you’d been through was…beyond words. It was more than you’d ever been through, even with your father. Even though you were grateful to be you again, there were also things you wished you could forget again. Things that were etched into your psyche, and you were certain you’d see them again when you next closed your eyes.

“It shouldn’t have fucking happened,” Ben said. "This one's on me."

His voice dislodged you from your spiraling thoughts, if for the moment. It drew your eyes back up to his as your mouth parted. You knew that was his way of apologizing.

“Ben, it wasn't your fault,” you said, laying a hand on his chest.

He gave you a measured look.

“We both know that’s not true,” he said. Always to the point.

“And…” he began to add, but he cut himself off. You tilted your head at him.

“And?” you prompted.

Ben’s lips pressed together in hesitation. He almost wished he hadn’t set down his blunt. Instead, he looked you in the eyes like a man.

“Your family doesn’t know who’s really responsible for this,” he said. The admission was a small weight off his heart, even though he didn’t want to acknowledge that bit. “All they know is that it was…retaliation.”

You looked up at him then, with a frown.

“You mean Mom and Louisa? You didn’t tell them it was the Rawlins brothers,” you clarified.

After a moment, Ben nodded. "Yeah."

You could thought you could also read between the lines of what he wasn’t saying.

Who’s really responsible for this…

You took in a deep breath, then you released it. You had a feeling your mother would understand if you told her the truth, but Louisa, on the other hand?

“Okay,” you said. “That’s probably for the best, anyway.”

He tacitly agreed, even if the well-hidden depths of his guilt remained. You saw all that too.

Before he reached for his blunt again, you took his hand. You laced your fingers with his, and raised your joined hands to your lips, pressing a kiss over his knuckles.

“Look, I knew what I was getting into when we decided to be together,” you said. “I don’t regret it, because…I love you.”

Ben’s gaze began to drift away, but you turned his face back to you with a finger.

“I love you,” you repeated, with emotion making your eyes sting. “I know we’ll get past this. Probably with copious amounts of therapy on my end, but we will.”

Ben considered that with a shallow nod. He couldn’t help but reach for you, cupping your cheek. He bent down to press a lingering kiss against your forehead. He stayed there for a moment, just thinking.

You gave him the time he needed, and in the meantime, you let yourself be comforted by his warmth and closeness. You also wiped away your remaining tears, sniffling.

“Okay,” he said, at last.

“Okay?” you echoed. “What does that mean?”

“This,” he said, and guided your face to his for another kiss. He claimed you slowly, but with purpose. And, after a slight pause, he allowed himself to speak an ultimate truth.

“I love you,” Ben said. His face wasn’t stoic, or reluctant. It was honest.

“I may not say it enough,” he continued, caressing your cheek with his thumb. “But it's you and me. Like Sonny and Cher. When they were good, before the ugly divorce. Or like Bonnie and Clyde. Just, you know, without the grisly end bit."

You laughed and shook your head incredulously. Sign this man up for Hallmark cards.

Ben made a dismissive gesture with his hand.

"Whatever. The point is, you’re mine, understand?" he said. "That’s just how it is.”

“Is that right?” you teased. A smile tugged at Ben’s lips as well.

“That’s right,” he affirmed, squeezing your waist. You laughed a little more and settled back into resting against his chest.

“Okay,” you replied.

And for now, it really was.

AN: Ahh, the end of a series is always bittersweet, no? I had a lot of fun with this BMD mini series, and I hope you did too! I'm sure I'll come back to these two eventually (there are still BMD requests in my inbox), but let me know what you thought of how we wrapped up here with Wake Me Up. 💚

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Break Me Down Masterlist

Soldier Boy Masterlist

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BMD/Series Tag List (Part 1):

@deans-spinster-witch @this-is-me19 @waynes-multiverse @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @spalady26

@spnwoman @syrma-sensei @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden @muhahaha303 @123passwort

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@spnfamily-j2 @im-a-slut-for-fluff @lacilou @venicesem @mimaria420

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sirfrogsworth · 8 months

Text

Last week was crazy.

I honestly can't believe all of it happened in the span of a week. Well, I guess it was more like 10 days. But it was another... Alot.

It all started when I got my disability denial letter. I couldn't wait until I got into the house so I opened the envelope as I walked back from the mailbox. Once I saw the bad part I had an instant panic attack in my driveway.

I ran inside...

Okay, that isn't true.

I walked very quickly inside...

Nope, still not true.

Okay, I walked at my personal top speed which is probably still slow for most people... but the point I'm trying to make is that I was attempting to hurry despite only saving myself about 3 seconds of travel time.

But the hurrying made me feel better, okay?

Out of breath from my geriatric-style powerwalking, I called my lawyer's office immediately. And... he is on vacation. Won't be back until the next Thursday. I spent the entire weekend going through every panic state a body can feel. I go from angry to depressed to anxious to panicked to angry (again) to scared to more scared to extra more scared. Visions of homelessness danced in my head.

I can't sleep for over a day because my brain won't shut off. Finally my body gives out and I fall asleep on the couch watching random YouTube videos. But falling asleep on the couch is bad because I'm not hooked up to my CPAP machine. Then I finally do hook up my CPAP and my damned mask breaks. Thankfully it has happened before and I have a cool hot glue and duct tape solution. But it is hard to manage hot glue and tape when you haven't slept in days and your eyes will barely stay open. So a few burned fingers later, I am sleeping comfortably in my janky duct tape-laden CPAP mask.

Monday rolls around and I decide to go into problem solving mode. Problem solving is my superpower, so I was going to lean into that in an effort to reduce my anxiety. The denial letter said they had no records from before I was 22, so I put on my detective hat and began the hunt to prove I was sick before 2004. My aunt helped me dig through my mom's document drawer. I distinctly remember an essay I wrote to the disability people back when I first got sick. It was part of the paperwork they had me submit. It was a first hand account of my symptoms back in 2001. It also had an essay from my dad talking about how sick I was. I felt like if I could find that, the records surrounding it would all be related and from the same time period.

We go through the entire drawer and only find a few things that might be helpful. Then I realized my mom had a *second* drawer full of documents and my aunt was blocking it. So we start going through that and find a folder labeled "Ben's Disability Stuff." I would have never kept any of that stuff but my mom kept *everything* and it was all in chronological order.

She is still looking out for me.

And she may have kept me from being homeless.

We find the essay and records of my ECT treatments and the names of doctors and all kinds of evidence of my medical woes before 2004. And even if they won't accept it as direct evidence, I can use these documents to show doctors I was their patient. And my primary care doctor said he would be willing to talk to those past doctors to help me convince them to write a letter on my behalf. All they really have to say is they treated me for severe depression and fatigue. And because my mom kept a list of my prescriptions and my ECT treatments, I'm hoping that will be enough to convince them even if they don't remember treating me.

Wednesday I had my monthly checkup. And I got to peek at my main doctor's records from before 2004. It's all handwritten notes and a little hard to read (bad doctor handwriting is the most accurate stereotype in existence). But it clearly says I had depression and was undergoing ECT treatments. It even mentions one of the doctors I want to write me a letter. It's not a lot, but it is first hand, direct medical evidence from that time period. I think it will be very compelling to whoever reviews my case.

I also talked to the nurses/assistants in the office about copying my entire chart, and I thought we were on the same page, but as you will see later... we were not on the same page.

I exit the building and remember how far away I had parked. And once again I forgot to use my cane—even though I keep a spare in the car. The main lot was full and the disabled parking was occupied, so I had to park in the secondary lot. My legs were holding up so far, but it was already a lot of walking for me. Very slow walking.

His office is in the same complex as the hospital. Which is my next stop. It's the same hospital that I have been going to all of my life. And the hospital where both of my parents died.

But I need vintage medical records and that is where they keep them.

Or so I thought.

I drive from the medical office parking lot to the hospital parking lot and only the spots farthest away are empty. And because of goddamn global warming, it is 90 fucking degrees in late September. I park, lock my car, grab my man purse, and start hoofing it to the hospital entrance. I'm so nervous about getting these records that I forgot my damn cane again.

My thoughts are basically, "What if they only keep 7 years of records like everyone else? What if the records from Christian Northwest aren't kept with the records from Christian Northeast? (Christian NW doesn't exist anymore.) What if they won't send them to my lawyer? What if it costs a thousand bucks? What if, what if, what if..."

I get to the front desk and ask the lady where the records department is. She gives me directions that my brain is only capable of half paying attention to. Then I realized I left the records release form from my lawyer in the car. So I walk another half mile in the heat to my car without my cane. And initially, my thought was, "Well, at least I can grab my cane once I get the form." But by the time I got to my car my thought was, "AHHHHHHHHH THAT WAS A LONG FUCKING WALK. KILL ME!"

And so I forgot my cane.

Again.

I get back to the lobby and wave at the lady who gave me directions. I pretend like I remembered and confidently walk in the direction I recall her pointing to. I found the elevator. Thankfully this particular elevator only goes two places. Which seems like a waste of an elevator, but... whatever. I get off on the second floor and am met with a big sign with all the departments and little arrows next to them.

(I'm sure you knew what I was talking about but I'm trying to break up this wall of text with images because I am a professional blogger person.)

I see "Medical Records" and a leftward arrow. I used my keen detective skills to surmise I should probably veer left.

I find myself at the beginning of the world's longest hallway.

Without my cane.

And it is flooded with sterile florescent light and the walls are adorned with the world's most inoffensive art.

Here is a painting of a plant. Here is a painting of a bird. Here is a painting of a bird sitting on a plant. Wait, is that a... WATERFALL??

Suddenly Indiana Jones' voice shouts in my thoughts...

So, if you had to guess, do you think the records department was...

A.) near the beginning of the hallway? B.) in the middle of the hallway? C.) beyond the world's longest hallway in the world's second longest hallway?

As I enter the world's second longest hallway, I notice the art is repeating itself. I've seen that bird sitting on a plant before. I worried I was going in circles, but it turns out they probably just bought the inoffensive art in bulk and weren't concerned about repeats. I get about halfway down the second longest hallway and see a big sign sticking out... "MEDICAL RECORDS."

Note to God: The real world needs a fast travel mode.

I was a big sweaty mess and my legs were like jello. I lumber through the door and find a young woman scrolling through her phone and probably wishing she was anywhere else. She was behind a huge partition with a plexiglass divider—probably still there from COVID days.

I mean, it's still COVID days. But no one is acting like it so I am just pretending it is all over like everyone else seems to.

She notices an out-of-breath Hagrid towering over her and apathetically inquires, "Can I help you?"

I hold up a finger as I try to gain my composure and figure out exactly what I want to say. I usually rehearse this kind of thing beforehand but with all of the anxious thoughts spiraling through my brain, I totally forgot to do that.

"I need to ask questions about records." "What kind of questions?" "Well, how long are the records?" "I'm sorry?" "What year do they start?" "What year do you need?"

I'm suddenly realizing why I rehearse these things. So I take a moment and breathe deeply. I form the proper question in my mind.

"How far back do you keep medical records?" "30 years."

I shoot my hands up like I just scored a touchdown and say, "OH THANK GOD."

She is very confused.

"30 years, oh my god. 30 years just saved my life."

She is still very confused.

"And do you have records from Christian Northwest?" "Yes, we have everything from all Christian hospitals."

I try to give her a brief explanation of my situation and she cuts me off. "Fill out this form."

I look at the clipboard and it is a release form.

Do you remember way back when I walked an extra mile to and from the car to get a release form that my lawyer prepared? Well, turns out they have their own version of that and I walked all that way for nothing.

I finish the form and hand it to the bored, indifferent front desk lady. She tells me someone will be out in a moment. So I sit in the uncomfortable waiting chairs and try to rest a bit. A much tinier young woman walks to the front desk partition thingie and calls out my name. But due to her diminutive stature, she is completely obscured by a pillar and I have no idea where the voice is coming from. We do this little awkward dance on either side of the pillar, attempting to see each other, and finally we both end up on the same side. She starts looking over my form and seemed a little annoyed that I left a section blank. I wasn't sure what kind of records I needed and there was no box that said "everything everywhere all at once."

What I really wanted was any document with my name on it from the beginning of time.

But I was worried about asking for too much labor from this person so I started negotiating for some reason.

I was like, "Well, like, I really need like anything you have from before like 2004. And then maybe, like, some general records after 2004. Like, the pre-2004 records are super important. But, like, I also need to show I was sick all my adult life. So if there are like, summary records? Or, like, something?"

I couldn't stop saying like. I was turning into a Kardashian. Again, some rehearsal was probably warranted.

"I just don't want to be a burden and make you dig up all of my records. I mostly need my ECT records from 2001."

"What is ECT?"

"Shock therapy. It's for depression. I just need to show I was really sick before the age of 22."

"And who is this guy on the form?"

*ramble mode engaged*

"Oh, that is my disability attorney. You see, I'm trying to get a special kind of disability, but I need to prove I was sick before the age of 22. So anything like that before 2004 would be very helpful. But like, if you have less detailed records after 2004 that is good too. Because I may need to prove I've been sick my entire adult life."

*continued rambling until I notice she stopped paying attention*

She did not need to know all of this. And I was not answering the questions she needed answered. I was nervous and babbling and oversharing and I couldn't snap out of it. And I was really concerned if I asked for too much, she was going to be upset. But then she told me all of the records were in a warehouse and she would not actually be finding them for me. She just places an "order" for them. So this weird negotiation thing I was doing to keep her from being annoyed at me was pointless.

And I also realized... this is super important.

I yell at myself, "Ask for everything, stupid! Quit trying to get halfassed records because you're worried about inconveniencing someone."

Finally I just say, "I want every medical record you have from before I was 22 until now."

And she was like, "Sure."

Well... that was easy.

I thanked the tiny lady and the bored lady and exited back into the second longest hallway. My adrenaline was surging. I kept yelling, "30 YEARS!!" in my brain. I had to tell someone this amazing news. I had to tell them right that second or I might burst. So I grab my phone from my man purse and dial Katrina.

The thing is, I only call Katrina when something really bad happens. People don't make phone calls anymore. People text! So when she picked up the phone she answered with a very worried tone. As if somehow a third parent of mine died or something.

"THIRTY YEARS!!!!" "WHAT IS HAPPENING??" "They keep records for 30 years!" "OHHHHHHHHHH!!! That's amazing!"

She probably didn't hop for joy in real life, but in my mind I like to pretend she did. I start explaining everything that just happened and how they most likely have my ECT records and then I realize I am in the middle of the world's second longest hallway and I don't remember which direction leads back to the world's longest hallway. And because I am having unusual and extraordinarily good luck, a medical worker was walking by right at that moment.

"Which way back to the elevator?" "This way!" "Oh great! Thank you!" "Or that way. There are two elevators."

There is that normal luck I recognize.

I can feel the universe realigning itself. But that is okay, because...

THIRTY YEARS, BABY!

I talk to Katrina as I traverse the two longest hallways. Thankfully I was going in the correct direction and found the proper elevator. After a nice chat about various things including problematic 80s movies, we hung up and I decided to treat myself to a hospital cafeteria chicken quesadilla. They are surprisingly delicious and I ate them every single day while my dad was in hospice. Those quesadillas were a single bright spot during one of the hardest times of my life.

So I walk up to the grillmaster and look at the menu.

"Wait, where is the quesadilla?" "We stopped making those two weeks ago."

Universal realignment completed. Luck has returned to its original state.

A male nurse in front of me commiserated. "Yeah, man. I miss them too."

I walked back out to my car both happy and depressed. An odd combination of conflicted feelings. But my day was not over yet. I needed vaccines and groceries. Naturally, I went to the grocery store with the CVS. I got my dad his last booster there, so I was confident they could take care of me. I grab a shopping cart and pick up a few things on the way to the pharmacy. I get in line at the little vaccine check-in spot. The woman in front of me is getting her booster as well. Otherwise, the pharmacy is empty and the three employees are just scrolling through their phones.

After the previous booster seeker was taken care of, I tell the woman I need a booster and a flu vaccine.

"I can give the flu shot now and set an appointment for the booster." "You never required an appointment before." "We just started a few weeks ago." "Can I make an appointment for, like, now?" "No, sorry." "Do you have the booster in stock?" "Yes." "Do you have someone here qualified to give the booster?" "Yes." "Do you have any other appointments right now?" "No."

I tried very hard to keep my composure and remain polite.

"I am disabled. It is very hard for me to get out of the house. Returning another day would be very difficult. Can you please make an exception?"

"I can get you in tomorrow."

I probably should have asked for a manager at this point. But I had no energy for confrontation. She started preparing for me to get the flu shot, but I told her I was going somewhere else. My happy news was quickly being soured by weird rules that made no sense.

But I did see a cool robot.

I got my groceries and loaded them into my car. Some were frozen items so I made sure to turn the A/C on full blast. I called another pharmacy. It was the one run by the Jamaican family who came out to the house to give my parents boosters during the height of COVID. I asked if they could do walk-in vaccinations without an appointment. And in that beautiful accent, they replied, "Sure, come on by. We'll take care of you."

Their shop is in Ferguson. Which I'm sure the news has convinced people is a constant warzone or something. But the main street, West Florrisant, is actually really neat in spots. A lot of small businesses catering to the Black community. There was a soul food place and an African hair braiding place and a Taco Bell. Okay, it wasn't all Black-themed shops, but the pharmacy was directly next to the "Wumzy African Attire" tailoring shop that was combined with the party planning store.

And in the back was an African beauty supply depot.

Three shops in one! Just a very efficient use of space.

And looking through the window of the tailoring shop was like a feast of colors for the eyes. I don't know how they get fabric so bright and colorful. Really beautiful patterns too. I tried not to look like a creep while staring inside so I just walked reeeeeally slow toward the pharmacy entrance.

I just wish people knew that side of Ferguson. It's a beautiful community that was really dragged through the mud by the national media.

I digress.

I walked into the pharmacy and it was long and skinny. They had a few shelves with over-the-counter health products. But the main area was pretty empty. I guess they want to make sure they can accommodate long lines without people having to wait outside. But their working area seemed really cramped. There were some awards on the wall and news articles. Apparently, they are very involved with vaccinating the local refugee community. Something you won't see at pointless appointment-having CVS. I just felt like I was in the right place even if my frozen items were thawing and my legs were buckling from constantly forgetting my cane in the car.

The shop was run by the pharmacist and matriarch. Her son took my information. He looked about 18 and was a bit shy—but very kind and helpful. He directed me to this little partition they set up for vaccinations and they had a liquor bottle full of hand sanitizer. The label had a big "DO NOT DRINK" warning. I found a picture of the exact one on Google.

I washed my hands and rolled up my sleeve. The pharmacist greeted me with my shots prepared. Some people have a sort of magic touch when it comes to giving shots. I'm not sure if it is a special technique or just lots of experience, but aside from a little pressure, I didn't even feel the needles going in. And my arm was only mildly sore despite the double shots.

I really wanted to thank her for sending someone to vaccinate my parents when no one else would. But I was really tired and chickened out. So I just thanked her and drove home.

I unloaded my groceries and collapsed on the couch. I could barely move at that point. Everything hurt.

But... 30 years.

I was feeling good the next day despite everything. My body hurt, but my brain was contented from my success. But there was more to do and everything was trending downhill. I called those doctors mentioned in my personal medical records. I knew it was a long shot, but I asked if they kept records from 2001. They did not. However, I thought the psychiatrist who did my ECT was dead. And it turns out he is just old-as-heck and still practicing. So even though he doesn't have records and probably doesn't remember me, I am hopeful he will write me a letter.

My other psychiatrist from back then is also still practicing. No records there either.

So far my phone anxiety wasn't getting the better of me. But I still had more calls to make and I could feel my brain starting to get melty.

My pocket knife doesn't open correctly and I couldn't get anyone to email me back from SpyderCo. So I called their office in Colorado and tried to get someone to talk to me. I got bounced to three different people and finally a guy told me that model is just hard to open. So that was pointless.

Melt. Melt. Melt.

And finally, I had to call the dreaded CPAP supply place.

It did not go well. At all.

You can read more about it at that link, but the short version is I got angrily sighed at for asking reasonable questions about what the hell "chart notes" are. And the lady refused to answer those questions for no reason I can fathom. She eventually brought me to tears and got angry at me for doing so. And it turned out the call was pointless as well.

Oh, and my lawyer was sick. Remember him? Vacation guy? Who skipped town at the exact moment I got my disability denial letter? Yeah, I had been waiting for 7 grueling, anxiety-filled days to speak with him and he gets sick the day he returns.

Brain is melty goo.

Hey, Universe! I think you are overcorrecting with that luck realignment. I appreciate the 30 years of records thing, but can you let me enjoy it a little?

Friday arrives and I still have calls to make. The CPAP lady really messed up my brain and so just dialing the numbers was freaking me out. But I decided to start with the worst first. I called the CPAP lady and she finally had her precious "chart notes" and put my order through. She was cheerful and helpful and I was confused but thankful.

I thought maybe things were looking up in my phone call adventures.

My next call was to my primary care doctor's office.

One thing you need to know about my doctor is he is a bit of a... hot mess. A very smart, capable doctor. He knows his stuff. I suspect he has an eidetic memory due to his instant recall of medication names and doses and things that happened 8 years ago and detailed descriptions of medical conditions he only heard about in school 40 years ago. Aside from that, he is kind and compassionate and he has my back no matter what.

But he is technologically stuck in the 80s. His personal life is a roller coaster of drama. He once hired his girlfriend of 2 months to work at the office and his regular staff secretly whispered "She's so awful" behind his back. (They broke up soon after.) He is disorganized and constantly running late. And he takes on tons of frustrating patients because they have nowhere else to go. I admire him for treating so many poor elderly folks without any family to take care of them, but you can tell it is extremely challenging at times and a lot of that labor is delegated to his staff.

His office manager is probably the only person on the planet who can tolerate him being a hot mess.

Unfortunately, she is also a hot mess in completely different ways.

She tries to speedrun through everything. It's probably because she has a million things to do and is trying to fit 12 hours of work into an 8 hour workday. I try to be sympathetic and understanding of that. But one of her methods for speeding things along is attempting to use her psychic powers. You will start telling her what you need and she will do this thing where she cuts you off and tries to predict said need.

"I need a prescription for..." "Your thyroid meds are due, right? I'll send it over to the pharmacy." "...insulin. But I have a question about..." "So thyroid and insulin? No problem. I'll send it over." "...increasing my dosage." "Wait, what's yer question, hon?" "Was it 50 units..." "No, it's says 100. Okay? I'll send it over. Take care." "...twice per day or 100 units once in the morning?"

Often her predictions are so bad that it actually takes a lot more time to correct her than it would if she had just let you finish speaking. And this is especially problematic for me because I rehearse everything I need to say and she constantly interrupts and so I have to end up improvising new things to say that I never accounted for. And I'm already anxious and not thinking clearly so I do a poor job of explaining my needs and it just ends up in disaster.

So I have a complicated situation. I need my entire written chart copied and sent to my lawyer. I know it is a lot of work for the office staff. They probably have to copy several hundred pages. But this is probably the most important evidence in my disability case. And my lawyer has already volunteered to pay the several hundred dollars it will cost. It's worth it because if my case goes well, I could get years of back pay.

I call and get the young woman whom I really like on his staff. She is very quiet and unassuming but secretly the star of the office. Like a ninja of competence. If you really need something done properly without mistakes, she is the best one to go to. But her job does not include handling the records, so she transfers me to the office nurse. The office nurse does not process new information well. You often have to explain things several times. And if she gives up trying to understand, she hands you off to the office manager.

The Final Boss, if you will. I was really hoping I could avoid that.

"Okay, so my lawyer needs all of my written records..."

"He needs to fax a form saying what he needs, okay honey?"

"He already faxed a release form asking for records and I brought in a new copy yesterday with all of his mailing information..."

"He didn't fax anything. He needs to tell us what he needs. I'm not seeing any form. Just tell him to call me."

"He is out sick today and he already faxed the form and I brought a second one just in case. I signed it and dated it and I watched Competence Ninja put it in my chart. It asks for everything..."

"Okay, I see it here. This doesn't look right. He needs to tell us what he needs us to send him."

"It says in the letter, 'to release any medical information, including medical records, written letters, treatment reports, testing results, or similar information.' Should it say something different?"

"I've been doing this 20 years and I've never seen anything like this. He needs to be more specific. I ain't sending him all that, hon."

"So, this is for my disability case. I already talked to the nurse about this. And I know it is a lot, but the doctor's records are the only direct evidence that I've been sick since 2001."

"So you just need something from 2001? Okay, the lawyer needs to fax something saying that."

"I need the entire handwritten chart copied and sent to the lawyer. We need a full record of my illness because..."

"This is ridiculous. You're lawyer is fucking lazy. I've never seen anything like this. And I'm worried he is not going to represent your interests."

"This is not a normal disability claim. If you'd allow me to explain I think you'd understand why I need..."

"Disability should already have all this. We shouldn't need to send this. This is fucking ridiculous and you need a new lawyer. You're going to lose your case with his lazy ass."

"This isn't normal disability. I need to prove that I've been sick for a long time and..."

"This is going to cost a fortune, you know? We charge 50 cents per page. You're going to be out hundreds of dollars."

"Okay, but I will be out thousands of dollars if I don't get this copied."

"Fuck it. I am going to copy this ONCE. No more after this. UNDERSTOOD?"

And... she hung up on me.

My heart was beating out of my chest with panic and my eyes were blurry with tears. And in that moment, I thought I had done something wrong. My doctor gave me his personal mobile number so I call him up with tears apparent in my voice. I explain what just happened and that I was really sorry and that I didn't mean to upset her. He told me she is "just like that sometimes" and I shouldn't take it to heart. They have a very serious deadline for something due that day and she was very upset and I was collateral damage. I asked him to apologize for me and he said there was no need. He said we'd work it all out on Monday when this deadline wasn't stressing everyone out.

It wasn't until I calmed down a bit that I realized I did absolutely nothing wrong. That she was just being a big jerk and taking her other problems out on me. And I was probably the one deserving of an apology. I also remembered this is not the first time she has blown up at me. She was the one who tried to make me get a ventilator instead of a proper CPAP machine years ago. She said, "My mom has one and it works fine." And I was like, "So if I travel I'm supposed to take 12 pounds of medical equipment instead of a 1 pound device that fits neatly into a backpack?"

I get why my doctor made excuses for her. She works very hard and puts up with him. He'd never be able to find anyone that would last a week doing that job. And I have a feeling he probably defended me after I called. I played what he said back in my brain and noticed a frustrated tone. Despite what he said, it seems clear he was pissed.

I can make amends and figure things out with her. That isn't an issue. But I am worried that between her and CPAP lady, all of the progress I've made trying to reduce my telephobia was erased. I really was getting better calling people. I used to need Katrina hanging out on Skype while I called anyone as moral support. And while it still helps, I've gotten a lot better at calling strangers on my own. But now, I'm not so sure.

I might ask if there is an office email address I can use from now on. If I can write out what I need there is no way to get interrupted. I can be clear and detailed and use my writing skills to communicate way better than my phone skills.

I don't know.

It was just a crappy way to end a stressful, exhausting week.

But it wasn't the end!

Friday evening my sick lawyer finally called. I had rehearsed all kinds of things I wanted to say to him. But it turns out, all of my emails already did most of the talking—proof that I write a great email. He was really impressed with all of my detective work. And he said if those records pan out, he is very optimistic about my case going forward. He also said that he was expecting a denial. And it was probably good that we got that out of the way quickly. And now we get to mount more of a defense, which is what lawyers are good at. We talked for about 20 minutes and came up with a battle plan. He explained the process going forward. But he mentioned one thing that worried me.

This could take a while.

A lot longer than I was expecting.

I explained that I currently have a runway until about June 2024. That's when the mortgage money runs out. However, my brother should be willing to release my inheritance in March. I hope. I have a hard time trusting anything my brother says anymore. But if he does, then I should have another year of mortgage payments. But I am definitely going to have a Plan B just in case my brother finds a new way to disrespect my father's wishes.

The lawyer said there is a quick thing and a long thing. The quick thing has a low chance of success. But it is worth trying. The long thing is a hearing with a Social Security lawyer. He said a lot of these lawyers are miserable and don't want to be there and don't really care. Which is a good thing because they'll just be like, "Fine, whatever." But it can take a long time to get a hearing due to backlogs.

So, as long as I can gather all the evidence and the hospital records have my ECT stuff, I think there is room for hope. A little hope. After years of chronic illness I know hope is sometimes dangerous. So I allot a tiny bit of hope to keep me going forward, but not enough hope to leave me devastated if things go tits up.

So... umm... I think that is the end of this novel of a post. I feel bad that I don't have a big climax or twist or cliffhanger. Should I add a big CGI dragon fight?

Even though a more down-to-earth kung fu fight with my brother would be a more satisfying conclusion?

Or I could pull an M. Night Shyamalan and reveal that I've been dead for quite some time.

This post is getting really long.

Why are you still reading this?

I am thankful that you are. I just needed to get all of that out. I hope I wrote it in a compelling way and you weren't bored.

I love you all.

#long post #i see dead frogpeople

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deadpresidents · 11 months

Note

Is there any truth to the 1980 October surprise theory?

The New York Times published a story earlier this year where Ben Barnes -- a Republican supporter of Reagan's in 1980 who had once served as Lieutenant Governor of Texas, Speaker of the Texas House of Representatives, and protege of former Texas Governor John Connally -- confirmed that the Reagan campaign absolutely encouraged Iran not to release the American embassy hostages before the election because Reagan would give the Iranians a better deal if he was elected President. Barnes admitted that he was present as Connally passed that message around while on a trip to the Middle East in order to get word to the Iranians. It's not exactly a smoking gun because virtually everyone seemingly involved in implementing the October Surprise is dead other than Barnes, but it's a weird thing for Barnes to lie about 45 years later, especially considering how close his relationship was with Governor Connally. Plus, we know that there were shady contacts between people in the Reagan Administration and Iran because of the Iran-Contra scandal.

I think there is definitely some truth to the theory, but I also believe that the Iranians were more than happy to spite President Carter by not releasing the hostages until literally the moment Reagan took the oath of office. The Iranians were still furious with the Carter Administration for letting the Shah come to the United States for medical treatment after he was forced to leave Iran as the Iranian Revolution exploded and Ayatollah Khomeini returned to become Supreme Leader. Carter had also helped broker the Camp David Accords between Israel and Egypt, which also infuriated Iran and much of the Islamic world. Plus, Carter had ordered Operation Eagle Claw -- the failed attempt to rescue the hostages by force -- and that was seen as an act of war. So, the Ayatollah and leaders of Revolutionary Iran had no love lost for President Carter and weren't interested in doing him any favors before he left office.

The October Surprise that many people overlook is the one which took place in 1968 shortly before the Nixon vs. Humphrey election. When it looked like there might be some progress made in peace talks to bring the Vietnam War to a close, Nixon and his advisers got word to the South Vietnamese to hold off on working toward peace until Nixon was elected and could give them better terms. It was such an egregious act that LBJ actually told people around him that he felt Nixon had committed treason and that he had the blood of American soldiers on his hands for sabotaging peace talks. We even have the tapes of LBJ's phone calls after finding out about Nixon's actions where President Johnson straight-up says, "This is Treason!"

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football-and-fanfics · 1 year

Text

Mason Mount masterlist

These are all the imagines I have written for Mason Mount (links below the cut). Newly posted imagines for him will be added onto here a.s.a.p.

Last updated: 25 May 2024

Imagines posted in 2020: (💦= smut imagine)

Called into the manager's office

Falling asleep in front of the TV

Afraid to tell you about his feelings for you

Concussion

"You're trembling."

Swimming pool 💦

Coming home with an injury

Needing to be restrained by a teammate (with Ben Chilwell)

Imagines posted in 2021: (💦= smut imagine)

Inviting you onto the pitch after a big win

"Stop staring at me."

"You're shaking."

"It reminded me of you."

"Don't stop."💦

Break up

Struggling with long-distance relationship

"No excuses."

Girlfriend gets hurt by a fan

"Just kiss me already."

"Those pain meds knocked you out."

"You're in love with her."

Insecure about previous high profile relationship

"Did you get any sleep last night?"

Waking up to find him looking at you

"I'm fine."

"I'm getting you another ice pack."

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"I've seen the way you look at me."

"I don't care if they hear us." 💦

"If you want to talk, I'm here."

Moody

"Hey- relax. What's wrong?"

Feeling his breath on your skin

"You proved them all wrong."

"You? Faster than me? In your dreams!" (with Ben Chilwell)

Roommates (with Ben Chilwell)

Helping the other one off the pitch after an injury (with Declan Rice)

"Don't move."

"Now what would make you say that?"

"You're new."

Break up

"Someone's cranky this morning."

Refusing to be subbed off after picking up an injury

"It was just a dream."

Films you sleeping

"No, stop."

Quarantine (with Ben Chilwell)

Taking a nap together

"Sometimes I can't believe you're really mine."

Nosebleed

Protecting a teammate (with Declan Rice)

Lean on me

"When's the last time you slept properly?"

Imagines posted in 2022: (💦= smut imagine)

Photo prompt

"Why won't you just admit something is bothering you?"

Injured (with Declan Rice)

Missing matched due to illness

"You ramble and it's adorable."

"Sorry I woke you."

Feeling guilty over a mistake

Dealing with injury (with Kai Havertz)

Bad day

Hidden feelings

Concussed

Photo prompt (with Ben Chilwell)

"Is that all you've got?" 💦

Christmas proposal

Imagines posted in 2023

Stitches (The Medic)

Early morning

"I needed your smell to fall asleep."

Getting items thrown at them from the crowd

"That's bullshit."

Decorating the Christmas tree

Imagines posted in 2024:

Fever

Receiving hate (with Declan Rice)

"That's... quite some blood (The Medic)

Getting items thrown at them from the crowd

#mason mount #mason mount masterlist #mason mount imagine #mason mount blurb #mason mount fanfic #mason mount fanfiction #football imagine #football blurb #football fanfic #football fanfiction #footballer imagine #footballer blurb #footballer fanfic #footballer fanfiction

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quads4days · 9 months

Text

"Tidal Transformations: The Poolside Mystery"

Prologue: The Spill

The first hint of dawn painted the sky in pastel shades of orange and pink. The tranquillity of the early morning was broken only by the rhythmic thud of Thomas's running shoes on the paved trail. As the rising sun began to illuminate the world, it cast a golden hue on Thomas's imposing form. Each stride showcased the sinewy contours of his calves and the powerful flex of his thighs. His sweat-slicked torso glistened, drawing attention to the ripple of muscles on his abdomen and the broad expanse of his chest, each inhalation highlighting his chiselled pecs. A lifetime of dedication to physical fitness had carved his body into a masterpiece, admired and envied by many in the town.

The bridge up ahead cast its long shadow on the churning river below. Thomas, with his bronzed Adonis-like form, relished these early morning jogs before the demands of his lifeguarding job consumed his day. As he neared the bridge, the discordant blare of sirens invaded the serene ambience. Blue and red lights danced across the mist that had settled over the river. A huge tanker lay sprawled awkwardly in the water, half-submerged. Authorities swarmed the area, working feverishly to secure the scene and retrieve the vehicle.

"What on earth…" Thomas muttered to himself, slowing his pace to observe the commotion. He noticed the logo on the side of the tanker — BB Enterprises, a company he knew to be involved in advanced medical research.

One of the emergency personnel, a woman with steel grey hair and a demeanour that suggested she was in charge, barked orders at her crew. "Ensure every bit of that waste is accounted for!" she shouted.

Thomas watched as large containers, presumably filled with medical waste, were hauled from the river, their contents a mystery to the onlookers. He felt an uneasy churn in his gut, but he couldn't pinpoint why.

A uniformed officer, noticing Thomas's lingering presence, approached him. "Move along, sir. This area is off-limits."

Thomas nodded, tearing his gaze away from the chaotic scene. He resumed his run, but the image of the capsized tanker remained etched in his mind. As he neared the local pool where he worked, a thought struck him — the pool's water was sourced directly from the river.

Chapter One: Shifting Tides

The morning sun beamed down on the local pool, casting shimmering reflections on the water’s surface. Thomas, in his official lifeguard uniform - or rather, the lack thereof, stood as a central figure. Shirtless, with his skin bronzed from endless days in the sun; his physique was an embodiment of strength and allure. His well-defined pecs and the deep valleys between his abdominals drew many an admiring (and envious) glance from patrons.

A subtle nod here and a wink there, Thomas worked the crowd masterfully. His role wasn’t just about ensuring safety; he also played the part of the charming, friendly lifeguard everyone loved to interact with. Children would excitedly wave at him, hoping for some recognition, while adults often initiated casual chats, mostly as an excuse to be near his magnetic presence.

But, for all the attention he commanded, there was one person at the pool that day who equally caught Thomas's discerning eye. It was Ben, a pool regular known for his stamina and the long laps he swam daily. Ben's toned body, with muscles rippling in just the right manner, made him a mirror counterpart to Thomas. As Ben finished his set and hoisted himself out of the pool, the water cascading down his chiselled abs, Thomas approached, raising his hand for their customary high-five.

"Great set today, Ben!" Thomas complimented as their palms met with a satisfying smack.

Ben chuckled, "Thanks! Felt good." The water droplets on his skin accentuated every contour, and Thomas couldn’t help but admire the view. It was an open secret around town about Thomas's fluid preferences, and many suspected that his camaraderie with Ben was more than just friendly.

Their shared glances had an underlying spark, a magnetic pull that had, over time, become a cherished secret between the two men. As Ben made his way to the changing rooms, Thomas followed suit, ensuring he wasn't seen. They both knew the routine, having enacted it countless times before.

The communal showers were deserted at this hour, with only the echoing sound of water dripping from a faulty tap. Steam enveloped the room, making the atmosphere sultry and charged. Without a word, Thomas turned on a shower, the water cascading down, and they stepped into the spray together.

As they closed the distance, Thomas reached for a bottle of soap, letting its silky contents spill onto his palm. He started by lathering Ben's broad shoulders, working his way down the muscular expanse of his back, appreciating every inch. The intimacy of the act, combined with the warm water surrounding them, heightened their senses.

But as Thomas’s hands moved around to Ben's abdomen, a sudden change jolted them both. Beneath his fingers, where once there had been tight, firm muscles, there was now a sudden softness. Thomas pulled back in surprise and watched, horrified, as Ben's fit body began to expand. A spare tyre of fat, uncharacteristic and unexpected, ballooned out around his midsection. Ben’s face twisted in confusion and distress.

"What's happening?" he gasped, his voice edged with panic.

"I don't know," Thomas replied, equally alarmed. The shower was hastily turned off as Ben continued to grow. As Thomas watched, the metamorphosis unfolded in agonising detail. The first thing he noticed was Ben's abdomen distending outward, like a balloon being gradually inflated. The once sharp lines of his six-pack faded, overtaken by the burgeoning flesh. His chest, previously firm and muscled, started to sag under the weight of the sudden adipose. The water cascading down their bodies made the expansion even more surreal, with every droplet magnifying the sight. The once lean and sinewy arms that Thomas had admired filled out, losing their chiselled definition, resembling dough that was proving and expanding.

Ben's face rounded, the sharp jawline becoming softer, plumper. Even his legs, the source of his swimming power, thickened, thighs rubbing together, the chiselled calves bloating outward. The transformation was total, shocking, and yet mesmerising in a grotesque manner.

As fear gripped Ben's widened eyes, Thomas instinctively pulled out his phone with one hand, dialling for an ambulance. But his other hand, driven by a mixture of concern and morbid curiosity, couldn't resist exploring this changed form. His fingers dug into the new, soft layers, tracing the unfamiliar contours. The act was intimate, perhaps even more so than their earlier touch, filled with a combination of wonder, worry, and an undeniable hint of longing. Ben moaned loudly before demanding loudly, “Feed me, Thomas! Make the hunger stop!”

Chapter Two: Transformation in Tandem

Thomas had a strange knack for compartmentalising traumatic events, and the scene of ambulance officers working with an effortful strain to help the newly engorged Ben into their vehicle was already locked away. The hospital would determine the cause - a severe allergic reaction, they surmised. However, the hedonistic memory of their tryst, a fusion of passion and panic, the sensation of touch transforming from solid muscle to softening flesh, still lingered fresh in his mind.

Later that day, the sun cast long, rippling reflections on the pool's surface, and as always, Thomas stood sentinel over his domain. His bronze, chiselled torso gleamed with droplets of water, each muscle defined and taut. It wasn’t just his duty to guard the pool; he was also its prime spectacle.

When Cameron and Arthur approached the pool's entrance, their athletic bodies testament to hours of dedication at the neighbouring CrossFit, Thomas couldn’t help but give them an appreciative glance. Cameron's sinewy frame was a stark contrast to Arthur’s bulkier, sculpted build, yet both radiated sheer power. Their pecs were defined, every ripple in their abs visible, thighs strong, and calves like sculpted stone.

Seeing them, Thomas’ roguish smile appeared, and he motioned for them to enter on the house. It was an unspoken transaction - a simple exchange of favours between bodies that understood and admired one another. They grinned back, their tight trunks hinting at their gym-honed glutes.

After an hour or so of swimming, the duo emerged, water glistening off their tanned bodies, making their muscles look even more pronounced. With a sly glance in Thomas’s direction, they moved towards the staff showers. And although they didn't beckon him verbally, Thomas knew the ritual.

Slipping in behind them, the steamy atmosphere of the showers almost acted as a veil, obscuring the outside world. Cameron and Arthur, already towel-dried, turned to face Thomas, their expressions a mix of mischief and anticipation. Drawing him in, three sets of hands explored familiar terrains.

However, amidst the passionate embrace, Thomas felt something amiss. His hands, as they roamed over Cameron and Arthur, detected subtle differences. The once hard obliques seemed softer, the chiselled midriffs slightly padded. It felt as though each man had suddenly added about 10kg to their waists. Deja vu hit Thomas like a tidal wave. Memories of Ben flashed before his eyes, and a frisson of anxiety rushed through him even as the steam and passion surrounded them. The misty veil of steam around them only accentuated the charged atmosphere as Thomas, Cameron, and Arthur entwined. Each movement was a symphony of muscle against muscle, their bronzed bodies glistening with beads of water and perspiration. Their Adonis-like forms were nothing short of mesmerising; every ripple of a muscle, every flex of a bicep, and the way their physiques intertwined felt like a work of art in motion.

Yet, as their fervour grew, Thomas noticed an undeniable shift. Cameron's lean frame, known for its sinewy muscles, started to soften. His defined abdomen started to round; each previously defined muscle seemed to blur and soften under Thomas's touch. Arthur, who possessed a bulkier but equally defined build, began to plump up more prominently. The thick, sculpted pectorals started to sag slightly, no longer firm but turning softer, more malleable.

As the moments passed and their passion intensified, the transformation became more evident. Arthur's muscular legs, once rock-hard and sculpted, now jiggled slightly, thickening and expanding. Cameron's once chiselled jawline started to round, a double chin subtly emerging. Their weight seemed to increase dramatically, the very force of it pushing against Thomas, almost pinning him between their ever-expanding forms.

Thomas felt both awe and a rising panic as the two men continued to swell in size. Their combined weight, growing from a lithe 80kg each to a staggering 120kg, was both a marvel and a mystery. The weight wasn't just in fat; their muscles also grew but were rapidly being enveloped by the expanding flesh. The sculpted physiques he had admired were transforming into softer, larger versions.

Their passionate endeavours slowed down as Cameron and Arthur felt the changes themselves, their movements becoming heavier, more laboured. There was a brief moment of shared alarm in their eyes, yet their physical connection didn't wane. Encased between the two, Thomas was trapped, not just by their weight but by the sheer inexplicability of the situation.

The room, charged with a mix of passion and panic, became a tableau of transformation. Thomas’ adonis figure was encased between the two men, once at the pinnacle of physical fitness, now ex-jocks whose CrossFit days were now long in the rearview mirror.

Chapter Three: The Inevitable Waves of Change

The sun glinted off Thomas's bronzed skin, accentuating each sinewy curve of his muscular frame as he sat atop his lifeguard tower. The strength evident in his thickly set arms and broad chest was not just for show. However, even his years of rigorous training had not prepared him for the surreal events of the past day. Distracted by the afterglow of yesterday’s encounter, a frantic cry from the water jolted Thomas back into his role. Two young women, who had been happily splashing around earlier, now appeared to be struggling, their once slender bodies rapidly changing. As Thomas squinted against the glare, he realised with shock that they weren't drowning but were instead inflating, their limbs becoming rounder and their torsos swelling like balloons.

With a speed that belied his size, Thomas was in the water, the taut muscles of his back and legs propelling him forward. As he approached the duo, their faces showed a mix of confusion and panic. Each girl's waistline had thickened, and their once-fitted swimwear now stretched to its limits. The buoyancy of their new, plush forms made it easier for Thomas to guide them towards the shallower end, but as they reached the pool's edge, their rapid weight gain made it near impossible for them to lift themselves out.

Relying on his immense strength, Thomas, with veins pulsing in his thick forearms, reached under the arms of one girl, heaving her upwards. Her once firm body now felt soft and malleable under his hands. Managing to get her seated at the pool's edge, he turned back to the other, using his broad shoulders and back to push her out of the water.

Out of the pool, they looked like entirely different individuals, their skin glistening not just with pool water but stretched over newly formed rolls of fat. Their swimsuits, designed for svelte figures, were now digging into their flesh, creating lines where the fabric strained.

As Thomas tried to calm the panicked girls, assuring them that medical help was on the way, two men – presumably their boyfriends – emerged from the pool. Their chiselled jaws dropped in horror at the sight of their transformed girlfriends. But before they could even process the situation, they themselves became the centre of attention. Beginning with tightness in their swim trunks, their glutes began expanding outward at a rapid pace. Their athletic chests puffed out, but not with the solid feel of muscle. Within minutes, their formerly sculpted abs were buried beneath layers of soft, yielding fat.

The pool area was now in chaos, with onlookers pointing and whispering. Thomas, though stunned, knew he needed to act. But deep inside, he couldn't deny a sense of exhilaration at witnessing these incredible transformations up close. The pool had become an epicentre of mysterious, rapid weight gain, and the root cause still eluded him. He just hoped he could keep his own desires in check long enough to unravel this enigma, realising he himself had just taken a plunge into the same waters that had changed these patrons.

Chapter Four: Tempting Fate

Thomas' gaze darted back and forth between the pool water and his reflection. The events of the past days had left a cloud of paranoia over him. He expected to see a softened face, a rounded belly, or fleshy arms. Instead, the figure that stared back was the familiar masterpiece he had worked hard to chisel: defined cheekbones, a broad chest with each pec defined, and abdominal muscles carved to perfection.

The serenity of the day was abruptly shattered by the sound of a scuffle near the deep end. A young woman with golden locks was visibly uncomfortable, her blue eyes flashing with anger as she tried to ward off the advances and unsolicited fondling of a brawny jock. He was undeniably imposing with steroid-enhanced muscles that threatened to burst from his tight-fitting shirt.

Without hesitation, Thomas stepped forward, interposing himself between the two. "Why don't you take a swim and cool off?" he suggested, subtly emphasizing the jock's flushed face.

The jock squared up, his artificially inflated biceps bulging with what seemed like suppressed rage. The menacing stare, the tightly clenched jaw—Thomas met it all with a calm and assertive gaze. Deciding to bait him, Thomas playfully taunted, "I bet you can't swim a kilometer without stopping."

The jock's hand shot forward, shoving Thomas with a force that would have unbalanced any lesser man. However, Thomas' well-toned legs held firm. With a grumble, the jock accepted the challenge, quickly discarding his shirt and revealing a torso that was more akin to a Greek statue than a real human. Without another word, he plunged into the water, his strokes strong and powerful.

The girl approached Thomas, gratitude evident in her eyes. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice quivering slightly. However, Thomas' attention was fixed on the pool. His heart raced, not from fear or adrenaline, but from anticipation.

As the laps continued, the jock's form began to falter. By the 38th lap, his once smooth, rhythmic strokes began to appear sluggish. Thomas leaned forward, eyes narrowed in concentration. And then it began.

At first, it was a subtle ripple in the water, an unexplained disturbance. But soon, the jock's broad shoulders, which had been slicing through the water with precision, now looked...softer. The once tight skin that had showcased every sinewy muscle now seemed to wobble with each stroke. His well-defined back started to round, flesh pushing outward. His tight swimming trunks, which had previously only accentuated his lean physique, began to dig into expanding flesh.

What was once a trim waist ballooned outward, pushing against the fabric of his swimwear. His steroid-enhanced pecs, previously firm and proud, sagged under the weight of accumulating fat. And his thighs, those powerful pistons that had propelled him so effortlessly, now chafed with each kick.

By the 40th lap, the jock could swim no more. He clung to the edge of the pool, panting heavily. His previously Adonis-like figure had transformed into something softer, rounder, and undeniably heavier. The once cocky swagger was replaced by a look of pure disbelief, his eyes wide as they took in his newly acquired bulk. The jock, gasping and struggling in the water, turned his terrified eyes to Thomas. The arrogance and confidence that had once been a mainstay of his countenance had vanished, replaced with raw fear. His flailing arms reached out, trying to gain some purchase on the pool's edge, but his newfound bulk made even the simplest actions cumbersome.

Thomas stood tall and imposing, his taut muscles and athletic form casting a shadow over the expanding man. The pool's once still water now undulated, disturbed by the jock's desperate thrashing and the rapid inflation of his body. The very sight of this once proud figure begging, his voice desperate and strained, was a contrast that wasn’t lost on Thomas.

The jock's growth was not a slow transformation this time. It was as if nature itself sought to expedite his retribution. His abdomen distended first, pushing outward at a pace that was almost audible, the taut skin stretching to accommodate the rapid accumulation of fat. His pecs, once firm and prominent, drooped heavily, merging with the fatty bulge of his midsection.

Thomas, leaning down, whispered, "You reap what you sow." His voice was cold and unforgiving, and the jock's eyes widened in terror, his pleading intensifying.

The jock's limbs started to thicken next. Muscles that once rippled with power now disappeared beneath expanding flesh. His once muscular arms looked like they were being pumped full of air, his forearms disappearing into meaty hands. And his legs, his strong, tree-trunk legs, now resembled massive pillars, growing at such a rate that they started to push against each other, constrained by the water.

Thomas, with a sudden jolt of compassion and realisation, began trying to rescue the jock from his swelling fate. He reached forward, his muscular arms straining against the sheer mass of the man. A crowd gathered, and several bystanders, fuelled by a mix of curiosity and altruism, joined Thomas in his efforts.

With every pull, with every heave, the jock's body continued its relentless expansion. As they passed the 450kg mark, it felt as if they were trying to rescue a giant balloon being rapidly inflated. The weight was staggering, and the sheer girth of the jock was making it difficult to get a proper grip. But Thomas, driven by determination, rallied the crowd, and with a concerted effort, they managed to drag the jock to the edge of the pool.

However, by the time they succeeded in partially hauling him out, the jock was almost unrecognisable. The man, who had once been the epitome of athletic prowess, was now a mound of flesh, his features almost entirely obscured by his bloated form. The once-tight swimwear had given way, lost beneath the folds of his immense bulk. His breathing was laboured, each inhalation causing his massive body to quiver. By now, it was evident that he was pushing 500kg.

Thomas, panting and drenched in sweat, looked at the behemoth in front of him. The transformation was both mesmerising and horrifying, a stark reminder of the pool's mysterious and terrifying power.

Chapter Five: Whispers of Change

The events of the previous day had turned the once-quiet pool into a site of intrigue. The sun hung high and unrelenting, its rays bouncing off the glistening water, drawing even larger crowds to the infamous pool. The whispers about the 500kg transformation reached far and wide, but instead of deterring patrons, it seemed to have the opposite effect.

Thomas perched in his high chair, his eyes scanning the bustling pool area. The sight of Cameron and Arthur, sprawled out by the poolside took him by surprise. Their newly acquired bellies — prominent, round, and proudly displayed — caught the sun’s rays, making their skin shine. Their hands caressed each other's newfound bulk, fingers sinking slightly into the soft flesh. The two seemed content, undisturbed by their recent changes, their love for each other apparently deepened by their shared experience.

While the previous transformations had been dramatic, the effects today were subtler, perhaps because of the crowd. But they were still noticeable if one knew where to look. And Thomas, with his keen observation, definitely noticed.

A father, probably in his late 40s, emerged from the pool. While earlier he'd had the tell-tale signs of a mild dad bod — soft around the edges but not particularly pronounced — now there was a definite change. The waistband of his shorts dug into a newly formed layer of fat, creating a slight overhang. His shirt, once loosely draped over his frame, now clung to a more rounded midsection. He seemed oblivious to the extra weight, chatting animatedly with his family as they settled down for a picnic.

Further down, a group of young women, probably in their early twenties, stepped out of the pool. They had spent no more than fifteen minutes in the water, but the effects were undeniable. The high-cut bikini bottoms, which had once accentuated their toned physiques, now had a slightly different story to tell. Soft, pillowy flesh now crept over the edges, not enough to be immediately alarming, but enough for an observant eye to notice.

Thomas continued his vigil, noting each transformation. A teenage boy, athletic and spry when he entered, now had a faint roundness to his cheeks and a slight pudginess to his belly. An older woman, once svelte and elegant in her one-piece, had her thighs now touched in a way they hadn’t before.

The transformations were myriad — some subtle, some a bit more pronounced, but none as drastic as the jock's. The pool's power, it seemed, was proportional to the exposure, and the patrons seemed oblivious to the fact that their day of leisure had more costs than their planned for.

Chapter Six: Ripples of Transformation

It was late afternoon when the rumbling sounds of camaraderie echoed through the pool area. A team of rugby players, their jerseys marked with the evidence of a fiercely fought game, entered in high spirits. Each player was the epitome of fitness, their physiques chiselled from hours of rigorous training and matches.

Thomas recognised the team. They were the local heroes, having won the regional championships earlier that day. They had come to celebrate, to wash off the sweat and grime, and to enjoy a moment of reprieve.

The players, laughing and joking, quickly stripped down to their swimwear. Their muscles rippled, each movement showcasing years of dedication to their sport. The sunlight gleamed off their broad backs, their torsos tapering down to lean waists and powerful legs. Initially, they lounged by the pool, chatting and relishing their victory. But soon, the temptation of the cool water proved too much. With playful shoves and mock protests, they all ended up in the pool. Their boisterous energy transformed the ambience, their laughter infectious.

Thomas observed them from his perch, aware of what might ensue, but equally curious to see the outcome. As minutes turned to hours, he began to notice the initial signs.

The team captain, a tall man with a prominent jawline and a frame that bespoke power, was the first to show visible change. His abs, previously like a washboard, started to soften, each pack melding into the next. His pecs, once tight and firm, began to droop ever so slightly.

Next, the swift winger, known for his agility, found his thighs thickening, the toned muscles now covered in a layer of plumpness. His face, sharp and angular, took on a rounder, softer appearance.

One by one, each player underwent their transformation. Some added bulk around their waists, the beginnings of a belly forming. Others found their biceps and triceps becoming less distinct, blending into the increasing fullness of their arms. Butts expanded, pushing against the fabric of their swimwear. Faces filled out, necks disappeared, and backs broadened further.

Yet, amidst this change, the spirit of the team remained undeterred. They acknowledged their expanding forms with humour as if only realising their team mates physiques for the first time, slapping each other’s muscle bellies. Their bond, it seemed, only strengthened.

Their mirth was infectious, spreading quickly to the pool’s other patrons. But their loudest cheers were reserved for one person—Thomas.

“Hey! It’s the legendary Thomas!” the team's burly prop forward shouted, causing heads to turn and hushed whispers to circulate. Many of the players shared knowing glances and cheeky winks. Tales of Thomas's passionate escapades with some of the team members were the stuff of legend. His reputation, it seemed, was as well-known off the lifeguard chair as it was on it.

In their post-match euphoria, a playful plot began to form. With a gleam in their eyes, several players approached Thomas. “Fancy a dip, lifeguard?” the captain teased, the undercurrent of mischief evident in his voice.

Thomas laughed it off at first, but the men were insistent, their intentions clear as they closed in. He began to resist, using all his might to fend off their advances. But even the renowned strength of Thomas, impressive as it was, stood little chance against a group of determined and slightly inebriated rugby players.

The world seemed to blur and slow as he felt himself lifted and then, with a dramatic arc, hurled into the pool. The coldness of the water shocked his senses, but instinct kicked in, and he swam to the surface as swiftly as he could, eager to escape the potentially transformative properties of the water.

Emerging, his hair slicked back and his body glistening, he was met with the raucous applause and cheers of the rugby team. They congratulated him on his swift escape, patting him on the back, their expanding hands now noticeably softer. As they struggled to fit into their jerseys, now straining at the seams and riding up over their enlarging bellies, the mood remained lighthearted.

The evening eventually wound down, and as the last echoes of laughter faded into the night, a profound sensation overcame Thomas. A hunger, deep and insatiable, gnawed at him, his stomach growling loudly. Thomas sighed in relief when his hand felt solid abs as it rubbed his torso, but the hunger remained. He glanced at the still waters of the pool, its mysteries continuing to deepen as his mind raced through what he would eat on his way home from work.

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siremasterlawrence · 2 months

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Daddy’s R US #1 - 2

Part 1

Daddy’s R US is the hottest new store to hit the market in the last couple of weeks since it has been launched but today is the last week for premier purchases of official Daddy camp lover merchandise.The store is fully packed with people crossing everywhere on wall to wall in the entirety of the space is filling up with young people blocking all of the areas to my building and I spot two dads or so. One man in particular is sitting on the couch in the living room, I have been able to use a tablet in behind the area scanning him from afar and downloading a copy of him onto the system.A few situations on my tablet go off speeds up the time as the clocks handles spinning on and on time fades in to the very background and nothing else matters to him because his eyes grow dull. He is now empty totally devoid of any and all emotion, personality or free will he lacks all except a news to be owned and he sitting there mindlessly waiting for his one and only permanent owner. I knew it is time for me to do the deed grabbing a trolley from the new main office back room and struggle to place him on the cart strapping him and my men do all the work.The back room lights blur on in the distance as they turn on swirling throughout the area as the door shut closed locks them in place and as they roll in shifting the body on to the medical slat. I can hear supremely dramatic sighs loud coming from him as I sat in the space talking to customers in between it all managing to rebuild him as I rewrite his reprogramming.

“Master Lawrence he is prepped.”

“Excellent! I have the motivation to consume him.”

“Move out of the way”

“Leave the room”

“Yes Sir”

“Begin mixture “

“Erasing consciousness”

“1…2…3”

“Replacing with new programming Ben”

“Erasing Subconscious “

“Shall I implement Ben 2.0”

“Commence”

“Id automatically syncing “

“Updated”

“Completed…functioning”

“Processing”

“Complete “

“Reboot now “

“Mmmmmmmmm”

“Mmmmffffnnnnnhhhhhh”

“Oh My Stars! Hey babe”

“Babe?”

“You are my Master”

Part 2

Jon Hamm is the most definitely next guy who pops up in to the store in sexy blue dress shirt, in a nice grey suit pants walking in to the garden area with a living room set amongst them because the minute he steps in and sat down.

“You seem to feel very comfortable”

“Do you enjoy the space?”

“Imagine this with one of my daddy’s “

“Tall and sexy”

“Staying in the light “

“Shining bright “

“Your eyes hit it”

“The eyes shift in color”

“Something in your changes “

“Nnnnoooo!”

“YES!”

“Body frozen “

“In time you will believe me”

“You are tired and don’t want to go home”

“You need to rest”

“Lay down”

“A yawn over takes you “

“Your eyes close”

“The room is dark”

“You settle “

“Your eyes open “

“The reprogramming commences “

“Wait….i….i”

“You…you…what?”

“I love you “

“I am your world “

“Yes Master”

“How may I serve you?

“Follow me in to the back”

“Drop your pants and I will fuck you”

The end

#ben affleck #jon hamm #hypnotic love #mind control #reprogramming #hypnosis #hypno slave #Daddy’s R US

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padawansuggest · 2 years

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Listen. Everyone in the lineage remembers when Uncle Ben went off his meds for thanksgiving and dueled Grandpa Dooku in the driveway for insulting Anakin. And tbh. That’s why they keep inviting him back. It’s a part of his charm. The yearly medication vacation for the holidays adds a little spice to it. He claims it’s because he wants to drink Cody’s brother’s homemade cherry moonshine and mulled wine, and that can’t be done on his meds, but we think he’s just completely done with living in a linear timeline around that many relatives. It’s okay, Anakin and Qui-Gon are having a blast while everyone else gets the grippy socks ready. Cody is also charmed, but the first one willing to force him into Kix’s home office to get yelled at for it.

We all have our faults 🤷🏽😩

#star wars #obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #modern au #disaster lineage #yan dooku #codywan #tw drugs #tw medication

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electricalstemplates · 3 months

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Template Masterlist pt 2

Alter templates

Short

Smiles Family/Roblox theme

Hazbin Hotel theme

Naruto theme

Pink flower theme

Jeff the Killer theme

Glitch theme

Space theme

Biblically Accurate Angel theme

Deer/Forest theme

No theme

Horror, Shameless, Supernatural, Descendants, Music, Overwatch, Dog, Statehouse, Ninja & City/tech theme

Hotel theme

Ice/water, Jeff the Killer, BEN Drowned, & Angel Dust theme

Bive regretavator/Roblox theme

Heart theme

Choso Jujutsu Kaisen theme

Time/cryptid theme

Plushie/toy theme

Medium

Scene/emo theme

Glamrock Chica theme

Science theme

Omega Mart theme

DSMP/L'manburg theme

Star/yellow theme

Space theme

Forest theme

Ghost and Pals theme

Green academia theme

Cult Family/Roblox theme

Skull/death theme

Slime Rancher theme

Vanilla/pale theme

Kuromi theme

Green crystal theme

Green academia theme

Chonny Jash theme

Knives Chau theme

Dayshift at Freddy's theme

Space/ocean theme

Headspace Aubrey Omori theme

Sister Location theme

Ska theme

God of War theme

Husker Hazbin Hotel theme

Swamp theme

Gnarpy/Roblox theme

Purple Alien Cat theme

Radio theme

Vampire theme

Dog/pet theme

Pyro/TF2 theme

Office/The Stanley Parable theme

Doll theme

Rainbow/prism theme

Nature/Weather/Glitch theme

Star/heart theme

Eddsworld theme

Lovecore theme

Pest regretevator/roblox theme

Long

Murder drones and The Mandela Catalogue theme

Dreamy/angelic theme

Tim Drake theme

Horror/theatre theme

Medical theme

Greek theme

Racoon theme

Whale theme

Faerie/wonderland theme

Space/forest theme

No theme

TF2 theme

Basil Omori theme

Pest regretevator/Roblox theme

Party Noob regretevator/Roblox theme

Rabbit kidcore theme

Magic/The Last Unicorn theme

Chonny Jash theme

System templates

Short

Red/music theme

Medium

Omega Mart theme

Star/yellow theme

Star/space theme

Green academia theme

Space/flower theme

Chonny Jash theme

Fox theme

Tech/music theme

Swamp theme

Cottagecore theme

Terror of Nowhere theme

Nature/Weather/Glitch theme

Star/heart theme

Long

Rainbow/art theme

Film theme

Lovecore/webcore theme

Lightning theme

Display names

Digicute theme

Knives Chau theme

No themes

About mes

Purple grave theme

Weekly templates

No theme

#��⌁masterlist #ϟ⌁not a template

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going-astronuts · 7 months

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Captain’s Personal Log:

I haven‘t slept in three days.

Ben yelled at me for eating pudding packets while on the bridge.

I have been acting captain for less than 168 hours and he’s yelling at me. He says I‘m about to pass out but I feel perfectly fine.

#shitpost #spaceship #captains log #Ben is the medical officer I think #The captain is a stressed cocky lil shit #They prolly are besties from before

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walkingstackofbooks · 18 days

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I was thinking last night about how it would have affected Julian if he'd arrived a few seconds too late to that Cargo Bay in Hard Time and Miles had died in front of him (because that's always a fun (distressing) scene to imagine 👀) and that kind of spiralled into a whole canon-divergent 'verse...

Because then I got to The Quickening, and while I don't think Kira and Dax would have let a more emotionally-vulnerable Julian actually stay on the planet by himself for that whole time, if they did (or if he refused to beam up/ threw away his badge so they couldn't find him/ idk otherwise made it so they had to leave him) (because if anything he's going to be even MORE convinced he has to save every life he possibly can) it would obviously be even more devastating.

And I can imagine that, after all that time that Julian has spent with Ekoria and looking after her, Trevean might ask if Julian's going to take her baby or leave him to be raised on Teplan. In the canon universe Julian's obviously like *nervous laughter* "no I think he'll be better off with you... I could not raise a child" but in this 'verse he's entered his Feeling-All-The-Loneliness-Feels phase early and so is like "fuck I can't raise a kid but also I Literally Cannot Leave This Child It Would Kill Me" and so he takes Ekoria's baby back to DS9.

He takes his kid to the medical conference he goes to with Jake which, valid, but then they get the distress call from Ajilon Prime* and he's like "I can't take my baby to a warzone" and Jake's like "I'll look after him, it sounds like these people need you" and Julian's pretty torn but also he does Need To Save People so they go and, uh. Like I think reactions are pretty mixed about the baby but Julian is literally a Lifesaver so no-one's gonna complain too much and some of the patients want to hold Maris (the kid's called Maris after Ekoria's husband I decided) and it's sweet, y'know, to have a moment outside of the war and pain with this tiny lil bab.

[*Umm yeah this was just me jumping to the most fun (traumatic) events to imagine as I tried to go to sleep so forgive me but...]

Obviously Jake doesn't go off to the runabout with the kid so he still gets lost and when he returns Julian's cradling the baby and idk but my heart just imagining the scene where Julian's like "I should never have brought you here, what was I thinking?" is just MORE with him having his own son there too.

And then we skip to IPS/BIL and Julian's in the prison camp not knowing if his baby is alive and then coming back to realise the changeling has been parenting his son for a month (and having to run multiple test on Maris to check if his baby is actually his or if Maris is a changeling too) and also no-one even noticed he was missing even though apparently his kid had been crying like all the time (and fuck, how fucked up is that going to leave Maris because that sort of thing affects kids when it happens that young, right? anxietyyyy)

(also Miles would have noticed I wasn't me, Julian thinks. because he needs more reasons to feel sad.)

And then DBIP in this 'verse makes me UNHINGED because IMAGINE a Julian Bashir who hit his depression point a season earlier but has been teetering along okay since Maris came along now that he has this whole little life to look after and he will do Anything for his child. (okay apart from stay away from warzones when there are people to save but you know. basically anything)

Anyway yeah so Julian's got Maris with him in Sisko's office when Jadzia turns up with his parents and he is FAR less able to cope than canon Julian is because 1. more emotional instability, but mostly 2. he is a Dad with a Kid and NOPE he cannot have his parents anywhere near his baby that is Not Happening.

He has his oh, my god moment and then hands Maris to Sisko being like "Your grandson is lovely, Commander" and Ben and Jadzia are like ??? but play along and Julian finds some quarters for his parents and by the time they've got there with all the small talk of "hah, for a second there I thought you'd be telling us we have grandkids! when are you going to settle down with a nice girl, Jules?" he's ready to burst but his kid's still with Sisko so he just excuses himself with "I've got to work" and hurries back...

Dax and Sisko totally haven't been gossiping about him and they're all like "So what was that about? Grandson??" and he's like "You saw how they kept calling me Jules, right? I haven't gone by that name since I was 15. And my dad saying he had to convince me to do medicine?? He hated the idea of me being a doctor. I had to study for Starfleet in secret because he just couldn't let go of the idea of his son being a famous tennis player. And now he's convinced himself my career was all his idea!" and is getting angrier and sadder and Maris starts crying and so he's hushing him like "it's okay, i'm sorry, i'm not angry with you, i love you, you're safe, i'm not going to hurt you" -- just idle things he's not really thinking about

Ofc Sisko and Dax are immediately on it like, "Why are you saying that? Did your parents hurt you...?"

And Julian's like a deer in the headlights, and awkwardly replying, "Not, like... My father didn't get as angry with me once I was seven and had grown up a bit, got more capable.. and I hit my growth spurt when I was 14, I got bigger than him, he didn't really do anything after that."

And Sisko tells him, "that's not really an answer."

Julian: "Isn't it?"

...

And then Sisko gets Kira involved to kick his parents off the station and you think the augment reveal isn't going to happen because Julian deserves a break and his parents are gone and can't fuck it up anymore ...

BUT, nah: Zimmerman - realising he's not going to get his precious interviews after all - decides to bug Julian's parents (because what's privacy when you have a job to do?). And then Rom realises that Zimmerman is cocking up a load of things on the LMH deliberately because he doesn't want to replace the EMH* and looks into Zimmerman's files and finds the report he's going to send and blackmails the guy* (there's gotta be a rule of acquisition about that right?) into not sending the report.

[*Not my idea -- this was the original plan for the episode, though with Miles, not Rom.]

Also after all this Julian really feels like he needs to punch something he goes to Quark's to viciously hurl sharp pointy objects at a board because that's the next best thing -- but also he hasn't exactly done that since Miles, and why is the fucking dartboard still up anyway it's not like anyone else ever uses it so he has another minor breakdown over that and tries to rip it down until Leeta drags him into a storeroom.

(oh yeah I totally think Leeta would have broken up with him when he turned up with a baby -- like not in a mean way, just in a "i'm sorry Julian, I love you, but I'm not ready for a kid (and also you did just leave me for a month without sending a message and you definitely didn't think about me before agreeing to adopt the kid, did you?)" kind of way, y'know? but they're still friends and she still definitely cares for him.)

(idk when rom tells julian what he did to zimmerman but when he does he's also awkwardly like "oh and i wish you and leeta all the best and julian's like ???? and rom's like "i saw you with her in the storeroom earlier. she called you sweetheart" or something and has assumed they're back together.)

And that's as far as I got but I just had to write it up so far because it has haunted me all day and I just need to get it out there.

Thanks for reading my stream of thoughts 💔

#Julian Bashir #genetically enhanced Julian Bashir #andi writes #sorry miles and keiko and like everyone else #i'm sure miles dying would have a lot of other effects #but i'm all about piling the trauma on our boy you know me 😅#also i /was/ thinking this as i went to sleep and don't know many episodes in order unless they're julian ones :P #my trek musings #fic ideas #wsb

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wolfjessedragon · 11 months

Text

Based on @liliacamethyst Webs of series

Webs of What if Part 3- Webs of Protection

A month later in Spider Society HQ…

Ben Riley: *bandages the stab wound on Sunny’s leg* Looks like the stinger didn’t pierce much, other than a visit with medical you should be okay. I’m so sorry.

Sunny: Ben it’s okay, you couldn’t have known.

Miguel: *exits the portal and marches over glaring at Ben Riley*

Sunny: *winces as she stands between Ben Riley and Miguel* Mig- *her leg gives out and she falls only for Miguel to catch her*

Ben Riley: Spider Sun are- *reaches out to help Sunny only for Miguel to growl at him*

Miguel: Don’t. You. Touch. Her. *He picks up Sunny bridal style and carries her away.*

Sunny: *While being carried to Miguel’s office she looked back at Ben Riley then looks up at Miguel and thought about what had happened. Earlier that day Ben Riley asked a favor of the squad to help him rescue his older brother and fellow spider Kaine aka The Scarlet Spider. The mission was mostly a success, I mean they had freed Kaine from capture. However there were two hiccups: One, Ben Riley failed to mention that Kaine has severe psychological problems and was incredibly violent. And two, Kaine’s captors had him under some pretty powerful psychedelic drugs. Kaine started attacking all of them and while no one was killed or fatally injured, Kaine stabbed Sunny pretty badly in the leg. Nanoseconds later Miguel was on top of Kaine going absolutely feral on him. Like Sunny has seen Miguel angry before but what she saw back there was whole nother level. Full on primal savage rage. Ben Riley quickly got Sunny out of there and based on the blood that stains his fingers, it’s not looking good for Kaine.*

Miguel: *Looks at Sunny softly as he lays her on the couch and begins running diagnostics.* The stinger didn’t pierce any major blood vessels or nerves. Should heal in a few days tops.

Sunny: And our little one?

Miguel: *Shows Sunny the advanced ultrasound of their 15 week old little one. He feels Sunny’s hand intertwining with his.*

Sunny: *She stares at the image and can’t help but fall deeper in love with the life growing in her womb. She glances at Miguel, she senses that he feels the exact same way and sneaks in a peck on the cheek.*

Miguel: *sigh* The rest of the team knows now by the way.

Sunny: …..what?

Miguel: I may have let it slip.

About a half hour earlier….

Peter BP: Miguel that’s enough! *Shouts as he, Jessica, Gwen, and Hobie after a lot of struggling finally pulls him off a badly beaten Kaine.*

Miguel: ¡No he terminado con él!

Jessica: Yes you are! Look at Kaine, you could have killed him!

Miguel: ¡Podría haber matado a mi Soleada y a mi bebé! *Causing Jessica, Gwen, and Hobie to look at Miguel in shock.*

Peter BP: *steps in front of Miguel* Who both more than likely need you with them right now!

Miguel: *causing his rage to subside enough to instead open a portal and go to his family*

Now…

Miguel: *sighs* Lo siento

Sunny: It’s okay Miguel, it was said in a moment of rage, and besides, they were gonna figure it out sooner or pop later- *stops as Miguel suddenly kisses her lips passionately*

Miguel: *wraps his arms around Sunny as he kisses her* Words cannot describe how much you mean to me, *he places a hand on her abdomen as if to caress the child growing in there* how much you both mean to me.

Sunny: *blushes deeply and hugs him* Te amo Miguel. *She kisses him as he crawls on top of her.*

Miguel: *Looks down at her, eye’s begging.* Please Soleada, no more field missions for now *stops as Sunny kisses him again.*

Sunny: I understand, *smiles up at him* my Miguel.

Meanwhile at the portal station…

Ben Riley: Shut the front door!

Peter BP: Those were my exact words

Gwen: Still trying to wrap my head around it

Jessica: How far along is Sunny?

Peter BP: Almost four months I think

Hobie: Y’know what, honestly, good for them.

Gwen: Seriously? They are like near complete opposites.

Hobie: Opposites attract mate, besides one of my best partners was from the upper class.

Margo: Wait y’all didn’t know Sunny and Miguel have been a thing? *She sends the gurney with a critically injured Kaine to medbay and get the “seriously?” look from the others.*

The next day at Miguel and Sunny’s apartment…

Sunny: *Laying on the couch wearing pjs with her leg bandaged up, reading “In the Time of the Butterflies”, when she hears a knock at the door.*

Jessica: *enters* It’s just me, Sunny, I have a key.

Sunny: Oh hey Jess, *lights up sees Jessica has Gerald* Hi Gerry! *winces as she gets up only to be slightly pushed back on the couch by Jessica*

Jessica: No no, no getting up, Miguel told me that even with our heal factors you need to stay off that leg for at least another day.

Sunny: *notices the bags Jessica is carrying* Whatcha got there?

Jessica: Oh this? Well after finding out the news, me and the others put a couple things together. *hand Sunny the bags*

Sunny: Y’all didn’t have to do that *looks in bags and sees a container of assassin spaghetti from Peter BP, a baby drum set from Gwen, some picture books on activists from Hobie, an apology note and a chewing necklace from Ben Riley, and some maternity clothes from Jessica.* You guys are thoughtful. *starts happy crying*

Jessica: *hands Sunny a tissue and sits on the other end of the couch, letting Gerald out of the babybjorn*

Sunny: *sees Gerald crawling to her, takes him in her arms, and starts playing with him*

Jessica: *giggles* You’re really good with him.

Sunny: Thank you, I just hope I’ll be a good mom for this little one. *she lays her hand on her slightly swollen abdomen, the image of yesterday’s ultrasound still fresh in her mind*

Jessica: You’re gonna do great

Sunny: Thanks Jess, I do know for certain that Miguel is going to be a wonderful father for them.

Jessica: Oh he’ll definitely try, in all the years I’ve known him I can say he was born to be a lot of things but one thing for certain is to be a dad. He devotion to Gab- *stops and pauses as if saying that name is too painful*

Sunny:.... I know I never met Gabriella, but I wish I did. I’ve seen the videos and I just know I’d love her as much as I love Miguel if not more. Who am I kidding? I’d love that little girl as if she were my own, and I like to think she would have been so excited to become a big sister.

Jessica: *sniffles* ….. she used to call me Tia Jess…. Sunny: Cm’here *hugs Jessica, who just hugs back*

That night…

Lyla: *Projected over a sleeping Sunny looking at her and her belly with such malice. She pulled up the apartment controls, all she had to do was turn the gas on and the carbon monoxide would do the rest. All of a sudden the apartment doors opened, she looked to see it was Miguel and immediately dissipated. Still watching from the cameras.*

Miguel: *Walks in, looking pretty exhausted, locks the apartment doors, and stumbles his way to the bedroom. Despite his exhaustion he crawls into bed carefully so as to not wake Sunny.*

Lyla: *Watches enviously as Miguel wraps his arms around a sleeping Sunny. Wanting so badly to be the one wrapped in his arms. She leaves.*

(Authors notes: Honesty guys I was anxious to post this one, please comment on any feedback. And again stay tuned for future parts.)

#fanfiction #liliacamethyst #wolfjessedragon #miguel spiderverse #what if #across the spiderverse #miguel x oc #web series

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eretzyisrael · 4 months

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by Hugh Fitzgerald

For some reason, the international media is entirely uninterested in reporting about how some Israeli Muslims — Arabs and Druze — have rallied to help defend their country against Hamas. Bassam Tawil has more on this subject here: “‘Like…wtf’: Israel’s Arab Citizens Feel Lucky,” by Bassam Tawil, Gatestone Institute, January 25, 2024:

IDF Sergeant First Class (reserve) Ahmed Abu Latif, 26, a husband and father to a one-year-old baby, was killed on January 22 during the fighting between Israel and Hamas in the Gaza Strip. Abu Latif, a Muslim citizen of Israel, embodied the spirit of unity and patriotism in Israel in the aftermath of Hamas’s October 7 massacre of Israelis. He also represented a shining example of coexistence and unwavering love for Israel. In a message on Facebook at the beginning of the war, Abu Latif, who was working as a security guard at Ben-Gurion University of the Negev, wrote:

Two days after the massacre, Israeli Arab blogger Nuseir Yassin, popularly known as “Nas Daily,” posted the following on X (formerly Twitter):

The atrocities committed by Hamas on October 7 — among the victims were also some Israeli Arabs — have pushed some Israeli Arabs who previously self-identified as “Palestinian-Israelis” to instead identify more closely with the Jewish state, declaring themselves to be “Israeli Arabs” or, as in the case of this popular blogger, Nuseir Yassin, shedding the modifier altogether, and now call themselves “Israelis.”

The Hamas atrocities did not drive a wedge between Jewish and Arab Israelis, as Yahya Sinwar may have hoped. Instead, the events of October 7 led to greater identification by Israeli Arabs and Druze with the Jewish state. Three-quarters of Israeli Arabs reported having “good relations” with Jews; almost as many — 70% — identify with the Jewish state, and far from wishing for its disappearance, recognize how lucky they are to be citizens of the only decently run government in the Middle East.

In Israel, Arab soldiers, both Muslim and Druze, have been fighting against the Hamas terrorists; some have been killed in Gaza, defending the Jewish state. Others were killed in Israel by Hamas on October 7; some Arabs, especially Bedouin, were taken hostage on that day. Druze have a long history of joining the IDF; the highest-ranking IDF officer who has been killed in this war was a Druze, Lt. Col. Salman Habaka. Another Druze casualty was Major Jamal Abbas, whose father and grandfather had both served in the IDF. Another Druze who answered the call on October 7 was a woman, Nisreen Yousef, who immediately volunteered to interrogate captured Hamas terrorists to discover where others were hiding; she passed on the information to the IDF, that promptly located and captured them.

The stories of these Muslims who volunteered to defend the Jewish state, and some who died in that struggle, should be more widely known. They undermine all the stories about Israel as an “apartheid state,” where Muslims are supposedly oppressed. These Arab and Druze volunteers for the IDF know otherwise; they are fighting for what they know is “their” country.

The stories about the Israeli Arabs whose rise to the summit of their professions also fatally vitiate the claims that Israel is an “apartheid” state. These stories need to be told. There is Samer Haj Yehia, the Chairman of Israel’s largest bank, Bank Leumi. And Judge Khaled Kabub, who in 2022 became the first Muslim, though not the first Arab, Justice on Israel’s Supreme Court. Jewish and Arab physicians work side by side in Israeli hospitals. Arab and Druze women have risen high in the medical profession and in academia. Prof. Mouna Maroun, Vice President and Dean of Research at University of Haifa and the former Head of the Sagol Department of Neurobiology, is the first Arab woman to hold a senior faculty position in natural sciences. Another is Prof. Mona Khoury-Kassabri, who in 2021 been elected Vice President of Strategy and Diversity at the university. It was the first time that a member of the Arab community was appointed to a senior position of vice president. “I am deeply honored to be the first Arab to serve as a Hebrew University Vice President,” Khoury-Kassabri said. 43% of Israelis who have just become doctors are now Arabs and Druze, a staggering statistic, given that Arabs and Druze are only 20% of the population. Compare that fact with the way Palestinians in most Arab states are prohibited from practicing certain professions, including engineering, law, and medicine.

Perhaps someone in the media will devout a program, full of human interest, to the Arab and Druze in Israel, some of whom have given their lives for the Jewish state. Others were victims of Hamas terrorists on October 7. And the program should explain the fact — never mentioned in the mainstream media — that 70% of Israeli Arabs now say they identify with the Jewish state as their country too, a place where they receive equal treatment before the law and where it is possible for Arabs to rise high in Israeli society — in law, banking, and especially, medicine. That might startle some of those mindlessly chanting about “apartheid” Israel, if not to change their chant, at least to keep quiet.

#israeli muslims #druze #hamas #gaza #idf #hamas atrocities #media bias

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amaesama · 2 years

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𝑆𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑛𝑠

These are my own personal headcanons, some are taken from actual facts but some were purely thought up in my own noggin. If I come up with more then I’ll make a part 2, and if you submit any headcanons then I might include those as well!

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It’s somewhere in Colorado, but the Slenderman has ties to any forest area that has particularity ’negative energy.’ This includes Appalachia in the US, The Black Forest in Germany, Aokigahara in Japan and Dering Woods in the UK to name a few. The pastas and proxies know their way around it and can get through it with relative ease.

The pastas don’t go on ‘killing sprees.’ They’re impractical and they run the risk of exposing the mansion. If they DO kill it will most likely be people in the woods or people the Slenderman has ordered them to kill, very rarely will they sneak into a persons home and kill them like that.

Sometimes they won’t actually kill their victims and they’ll just kidnap them and take them to the mansion to be ‘playthings.’ This could be for a number of reasons, like Eyeless Jack needing to eat, Helen needing blood to paint with, or some of the more sadistic and unhinged killers needing to let off some steam.

The Slenderman doesn’t put up the pages, and they are mostly put up by some of the pastas for fun. They’re mostly located about a mile or so away from the mansion.

The actual mansion is very hard to get to and of you go looking for it you’ll likely just get lost before you actually find it, but if you happen to see a few huts that look run down and have a few blood stains on them you’re probably on the right track.

The closer you get the more likely you’ll encounter weird creatures. They act as a sort of defence mechanism, as you’ll probably get hunted down by the Rake or Seedeater before you’ll find the mansion.

Slenderman stays in the attic and has an office room thing up there, this is because being too close to him can cause splitting migraines and nosebleeds, so it’s best for everyone if he just stays away. Though if someone fucks up he will go down and just stand there to punish them, unfortunately this affects others but he doesn’t care.

He distorts all electrical equipment.

There’s a sort of healing boon around the mansion, it’s enough to keep everyone alive if they get severely wounded but it won’t fully heal them, they got Jack for that :D

Not all pastas live in the mansion, but all the proxies live there, which include Masky, Hoodie, Toby and Kate.

The mansion is FILTHY.

No matter how hard some of the inhabitants TRY to keep it clean, it never stays clean for long. This is because most of the pastas don’t know how to wipe their shoes when they enter the house and they end up tracking mud, blood, or whatever substance into the floor.

The more ‘human’ pastas go out for supply runs for food, medication, clothes and other shit. They either get this from breaking into peoples houses or literally going to a store and buying stuff, although BEN definitely does some wacky hacking shit so they have the money.

The ones who go on supply runs are usually a proxy, so Tim, Brian or Kate, and someone else who is inconspicuous enough.

The ones who don’t live in the mansion live in shitty cabins around the forest, this may be because they’re dangerous to another person, they like being alone or their way of life simply requires it.

Jeff lives in one of these cabins because Jane will try kill him if she sees him (as she should, queen shit) and being around him for to long will trigger Liu, poor baby 😢

While it was a looong process, Liu is no longer afraid of his younger brother. However when he WAS still afraid of him Sully would front whenever he was in the same room.

Sully isn’t his only alter, he’s just the one that fronts the most.

Jeff is covered in burn scars, which is something I think people forget??

Eyeless Jack kind of HAS to live in the mansion because he’s the closest thing to a doctor they have, Nurse Ann is hardly in the mansion so she can’t help out much and Dr. Smily is too unhinged. Jack probably keeps a freezer full of organs down there in case he gets the munchies and there’s a room designated to keep prisoners.

Toby is in the infirmary a lot because he keeps chewing threw his fingers or his cheek and his mouth wound opens up again.

Jeff probably also has to go down and make sure his smile doesn’t get infected, and he redoes it every so often so he ‘stays on brand,’ like the weirdo he is.

BEN has a bunch of food allergies that he keeps reminding everyone of, but he can’t eat anything so he 100% just does it to annoy people.

He’s also a child and he acts like one.

He also looks like Link in Majoras mask but with his own face, and instead of wearing a tunic with shorts and Links dumb hat he just wears normal clothes, mostly green. He’s gotta stay on brand.

BEN, Toby and Jeff are like the biggest group of menaces and totally prank people all the time. They tried to prank the Slenderman once but…. Yeah.

Jeff is a DICK.

Like he is so unpleasant to be around. I’m sure with a bit of counselling he could become more tolerable, but until then it’s best to avoid him.

He also constantly smells of smoke, it’s just his natural scent. This one time someone asked if he smoked and being the bad boy emo rebel he is he was like ‘yeah of course.’ Which was a lie. He then stole a couple of cigs from Tim to try it out but he hated it.

He has a bunch of piercings to add to his hardcore bad boy image, you’re not fooling anyone dear.

He’s uncomfortable to look at. Like he COULD be attractive but the massive smile is just so freaky.

Tim and Brian definitely have something going on, but they say they’re ‘just colleagues.’

Tim probably has major trust issues because of all the shit with Jay and Alex.

Helen is really pretty and at some point Dina and Johnathan both liked him.

Helen’s room gets covered in paint really quickly and he has to spend hours cleaning it up. He’s definitely got yelled at for getting acrylic on the carpet so now he has to put down a spare sheet whenever he’s painting.

He’s absolutely tried shrooms to get some inspirations for his art.

Drugs are pretty common for the inhabitants to get their hands on, but it’s never any major drugs like heroin, and they never do anything with any children around.

Most pastas draw a line at harming kids in ANY way, for obvious reasons. They’ll also never sexually assault someone, too many people in the mansion are a victim of that and they’d never stoop to that level of evil.

Everyone is part of the offenderman hate club (as they should be).

No one knows if Zalgo actually exists? Like BEN sometimes has his electronics mess up but he can’t determine the source. Even Slenderman doesn’t know if he exists, or at least that’s what he says.

Slenderman is also a massive manipulative cunt.

Toby is so dismissive of Cody to the point where it’s funny. He’s borderline pissed that he gave up his perfectly good life in a fucking mansion for whatever this life is.

Toby is trans.

I saw a really cool headcanon that Eyeless Jack performed his surgery and it made my heart melt so I’m including it in this.

He has a bunch of scars because he never knows when he hurts himself and only notices when someone points it out.

Toby was scared to be touched because of his father, but after opening up to some of the others who also lived with an abusive relative he slowly began to recover.

He’s also half German on his mums side and is almost fluent.

Eyeless Jack is actually kinda sweet?

I mean he’s as sweet as a man eating half demon can be, but he likes to read, help people out, he’s also pretty quiet too.

I mentioned this in my Eyeless Jack headcanons but he’s pretty insecure about how he looks, he thinks his skin in weird, his eyes are disgusting, his tongues are freaky, etc etc.

He’s actually pretty alright looking, though. If his skin wasn’t grey and his eyes weren’t made of tar he’d just be an average looking guy.

Slenderman isn’t the dad of the family, he’s just there to make sure people do the shit they’re supposed to and don’t kill each other in the house. He makes everyone do jobs and that’s the only purpose he sees in them to be honest.

His voice his very deep and sounds like it’s made of static, he talks telepathically to people and it starts to hurt after a while.

It’s usually the proxies that take care of everything and keep everyone in line when they’re not working, Toby not so much since he’s too irresponsible.

They make sure everyone has chores to do in order to keep the mansion functional.

When chores are done most of the pastas return to their rooms and do whatever the fuck they do, this means the mansion is pretty quiet during the day as these mf’s are basically nocturnal.

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#creepypasta #eyeless jack #ben drowned #jeff the killer #ticci toby #clockwork #creepypasta headcanon #slenderman #slender mansion #Masky #hoodie #masky and hoody #jane the killer #kate the chaser

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