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tlgpandoramia · 11 months

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Chapter One : The Mortifalia

Notes : Hiii, after some inner struggle I decided to share some of my book in Tumblr. I'm just yearning for some feedback XD so I would appreaciate any, but please do be kind, that's my first draft and English is not my native language. Please, don't repost anywhere without my permission. Enjoy!

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`'Read my words well, as I write this under some influence, I feel that my head is about to pop, no idea if all those vaccines shots put a chip, or another virus inside of me, or maybe is just that fucking MORT-09 shit scratching my brain. The doctor said I just got to avoid everything and avoid to drink too much water and take sunbath, easy for that fucker to say, I feel like my body is completely dried, even my lips are all numb and rough for lack of water, the fever is not helping either. Anyway, screw that medical garbage, all the hospitals are full like a Best Buy in a sale day, everyone is coughing blood, and some are even bleeding from the eyes, mouth, nose, ears and pretty much everywhere, is so disgusting to see that, so I prefer to stay at home, at least here I have internet, my computer and nobody looking like a weird horror story. But, the doctors gave me a shot, a vaccine of some sort, saying that it isn't one hundred percent efficient, but it should help the immune system to fight the virus, I say it is bullshit, is not doing anything and my right arm is still sore from that stupid needle.

They said that this new virus came from a plant, or a flower, whatever, is the freaking same thing. But is ugly, last week when I had to go take the shot, I saw a guy bleeding from the head, like someone had cut the top and left it to bleed, the messed up part is that it wasn't normal red blood, but dark like a can of black tint, like a midnight lagoon, the news said that this is the last stage before going into coma, then is over, you fall into a sleep and that's it.

After the shot, I started having nightmares, not the usual scary bloody clown chasing you through an abandoned factory, kind of nightmare, but some real things, like it seems it actually happened, I don't know if it was just a weak moment from my delirious mind, this fucking fever and all the stress, but I heard some feral noises, sounding like shrinks coming straight off a hellish forest. Then I woke up, and saw something through the bedroom window leading to the yard, it was a black shadow of some sort, but it had flesh underneath, it was moving in like a foggy way, giggling around and lifting itself like a cloud of gas. I was up and ready, I know this, I even remember when the trigger was pulled and the bullet hit it. I even buried it, but its always coming back, digging itself off that dirt and the grass, I see it everywhere, in the corner of my eyes, inside the pipes, struggling to get inside, pushing the door and floating around, just like that damn black fog, or spores, that I see when the ignites are on, the vacuum cleaner can't deal with that, I used it, then the next day they reappeared, but that giant human shape black fog is always coming back, doesn't matter how deep I dig it.

Yesterday I spent eight hours watching over the window, aware all the time, feeling my eyes burning and the muscles cramping, but somehow I couldn't stop it, like a sleep paralysis. That's was when I started seeing that white glow fog on every surface, just floating and existing, when I left the house they turned into those huge shining orbs on the dark sky, glowing and singing to me, chanting in a soprano voice, beautiful and peaceful, something that I didn't felt in a long time, it was like angels telling me to law down and accept my death, that they would take me to a better place if I only allow it, that feeling of being rotten from the inside vanished, even the nightmares.

I...We, all thought that this virus was just another excuse for the big pharmaceutical companies to make vaccines and earn billions, but this is different, it doesn't feel like a conspiracy theory or something, it feels real.

My blood turned black, yet sometimes I can catch a glimpse of the red color if I look hard enough.

Today is October six of two thousands and seventeen, three days after the hospital visit, the news aren't positive or hopeful, showing footage of hospital being overrun by sick people, bodies being transported in every available vehicle and being toss inside containers, some are saying that that's it, the end of humankind, between that and global warming is a tough situation to get yourselves out of it.

This Mortifalia, isn't new, I heard about it back in two thousand and six, people from all over the world used it for different purposes, some native used it the flower as a medicine, others eat it like a meal, a few beauty industry people discovered and started using in cosmetics, and not to mention how some would use it as a drug, grab the flower, smash it and mix with hot water, then just smell that thing, it would give anyone a huge high, I did that back in university years ago, maybe that's how I got it, since nobody infected came near me in years and I barely leave my house for three years. When it started becoming an issue back in two thousand and thirteen, the government said that if you took the nitrogen pills and all the vaccines, you would be fine, and so we carry on in this pandemic. In those years almost nobody died, only going into coma, millions of people went to deep sleep, some remained to recent days, I know some people had the virus in the past and nothing happened, but now they are numbers in intensive care units. A little to late, but I throw away all that had the ``dormant Mortifalia``in their formulas, the shampoos, deodorant and that cursed healing water for the skin, they always said that it was impossible for those products to infected someone since the virus within was dead, who knows...Maybe that how I got infected or the flower smelling. Is unusual to say, but I feel at peace, feeling like I could just lay down and sleep forever, the angels don't stop to speak with me, but a part of me feels that this is wrong. There is no peace at slavery, at being a puppet, I'm a salve for a thing that is controlling me, commanding me in everything, even my own thoughts, and words. No! My words are my own, shut up now, and stop whispering in my ears, telling me what to do, or is this just what I'm supposed to believe? It's controlling me, I know, just like a puppet of an insane puppet master. The smell of blood is strong coming from the next house. No, it doesn't! Maybe I should watch those angels in the sky for a little longer.'' Words found in a pre outbreak letter

The story circles to the future, two thousand and twenty seven, disclosing around survivors, one in particular being Miyako Uzume, descendant of an ancient Japanese family with roots of witchcraft and a rumor of ``Chosen by a God``, bound by a promise with a deity until end of times. ``One shall see beyond men logical perspective, blessed to not join the army of pawns that shall walk upon Earth`` An old prophecy that turned the family popular back in Japan, as nobody appreciates they.

Enough of mysticism, those word are only coming out because I fear to speak about the reality that we set upon yourselves.

Beyond the metal and atomic bomb resistant walls, lies something that would make death seems like a frail human, extermination, nothing less. The girl don't remember how the world looked outside the metal box, how most of the days were spend hiding behind the apartment and looking out of the window, never coming in contact with people of the same age or friends in general, weeks would go by and only the sight of the family members could be seen, alongside the smell of recent baked cookies and how loud the progenitor used to listen to the news, yet for her the words never made much of a sense, considering that English proved to be different from asian mother tongue. Although melancholic and boring, the past hits with a home sick feeling, coming in strong and persistent.

Most people misses the old world with all of their hearts, the daily activities, go to work, bar and parties, hear those meaningless celebrities news and the idea of just existing. An emotion not share by the child, as it may be that those were never experienced, if the inner thoughts would ever be spoken out loud, strangers would condemn, after all who could be sympathetic towards someone that believes in the idea of a pandemic world being better that the past one, overall humans grew simplistic, surviving and coping with the past takes all their time, left with no time to judge others or the path someone else wishes to walk upon, worrying about surviving another day.

Dreams of traveling, earning degrees, buying houses and last generations vehicles were crushed years ago, if one were blessed by Lady Luck an approval letter for a shelter program or an invite to live inside a Military Zone arrived in the mailbox a few days before the breaking day, half of the issues could've been dealt with it, however feeling safe also worked as an ultimatum. To be able to live inside a secure place, a citizen should proves useful, assigned to be a working member of the new society, either by attending educational institutions, tasked to a specific job or being less fortunate and work as a manufacturing worker, aiding to keep the places sturdy, maybe joining the militia, options are limited, nevertheless one still has the power of choosing, even though this power lies in two paths, accept it or leave it.

Young kids or infant born within those camps believed that the inanimate concrete and steel is a sentient deity, that shields they for the horror of the outside world, of the lands dominated by the infected, kilometers of the Black Fog covering the capitals, corruption eating away every miserable human settlement out there. Cursing someone to go to hell no longer works, now the most lucky ones wishes for others to go beyond the walls and experience how it feels out there, death penalties also ceased to exist, if one commits a crime that calls for severe punishment, then exile seems logical enough.

Hopes for an ordinary life died six years ago, a major pike of infection overwhelmed hospitals across the world, and it couldn't function anymore with millions of humans going into stasis, the point of no returning, after a few more hours the virus had full control over the host. Despite never witnessing an infected or a victim, children that grew up in shelters learned about it, The Manual describes them as ``Former humans, now in absolute control of the Mortifalia``. Diversified by five stages, all shared an importance, yet the first worries the doctors, taking place between four to six hours after a bite, scratch, breathing the spores or by simple coming in contact with infected blood, airborne took most of the victims, as they never noticed it until the last moment, some areas in cities are so deep within Its territory that the air itself is bio hazard, one dies by suffocation before turning into a Courier.

Shelters were built by the Saga Corporation, half of it were put inside major military camps, however the organization took responsibility to generate their own food, water and electricity supplies. Each party has their own objectives, the military one being to avoid infected near the borders, as a high concentration of the infection can cause a Nucleus to be form, spreading the Black Fog through the wind, even infectiing the rain and the soil itself.

Miyako rest as the youngest daughter of the prestigious virologist, Doctor Reira Uzume, a veteran researcher of the Mortifalia and a key factor for creating a vaccine, the child takes the mother word over anything, admiring her beyond compression, a woman capable of running for president, if the government worked like before, the Uzume matriarch wrote half of The Manual Of The Infection, responsible for gathering information about the virus and how to deal with it in hundred of scenarios.

The others countries remains until this day, yet details of what happened and what became of the provisional laws is a privilege meant for a few high rank officers. The USA fragmented itself in regimes called Provisional Governments, a president figure persisted, however with less power and no longer representing a political wing. With a mandate lasting three years, they need to allied themselves with the Military, Scientific or Industrial party, each with its own beliefs on how to deal with the virus and prevent humans to be extinct, and of course, making sure that the walls remains strong.

A prestige biologist, Katherine Williams sits in the White House, feeding the hope of a vaccine to save the world, whoever the truth doesn't aligned itself with this ideal. The group has the duty of maintaining the hospitals, camps and clinics, while creating ways of improving the new educational system, and worshiping the possibility of a vaccine.

Every night Miyako wonders what happened to the apartment, now laying in a prohibit area of DC, almost all were left behind, even Ren, a teddy bear given by her brother in the girl six year old birthday. On the day the world died, a group of men wearing white tuxedos knocked on the family door, demanding the four to pack it up in essential and leave for the shelter located somewhere in the capital heart, a lot of things were considered useless baggage by the agents, not allowing more that two pair of clothes and shoes, going against the orders, the oldest son sneaked away nail polishes for his sister, storing it all away inside the jacket pockets.

Once upon a time, feed the wishful think that the things left behind would feel alone and abandoned, just like she does. Through all the way to the landing spot, many people were roaming the street, some sick and wandering around, enjoying the last minutes before falling into coma, while others were protesting for a solution, gathering around the military camp protecting the white house, begging to be let inside, the scream mattered not, as none of those outside made it

That night marked the first time she left the secured place for a non medical reason, it felt engulf at some point, as the air itself attempted to crush her lungs, however the safe heaven tagged along, once more, as he promised to do each time. The vision of the round metal vault door closing imprinted itself as an intruder memory, the noise, the staff affirming in a loop that nobody should worry about anything, the smell of smoke and the red light shining, as the door closed to never be opened again, for others present there the sight worked as a reminder of hope and safety, yet for her it mold as a frightened event, locked inside a place with people that controlled the child's life since the first day.

Shelter...A fancy word to be buried inside an underground facility, in the false illusion of safety against everything the outside could throw at it, from atomic bombs to the Black Fog, the idea of holding yourself in an infection free zone, with food, water and light sounds perfect, built inside the biggest military camp in the country, as a warning to the government on who runs the show, although fools believes that the construction happened to create a harmonic relationship with the politicians.

In the middle of the cold and empty metal hallways, a Observatarium takes place, covering several meters of the gigantic room, an enormous and thin screen showing realistic videos of a snowy tundra, as a light snow falls on top of the trees. She's able to witness such landscape through the brother's eyes, again, a promise from long time ago.

Mafuyu serves as her eyes and protector since the girl came into the world, ignoring all else and silently focusing the eyesight so she can enjoy it to the max, a fake nature, yet it brings comfort.

Never allowed to try for friends, as the doctors redeem her immune system too weak to be close to others, so the young men turned into something more that just a brother, a friend, a father figure and someone who wished nothing more that her well being. The two would spend hours playing or watching television, in the beginning he didn't hesitated to believe in the sight story, and when the truth that Yuki never existed came to be, Mafuyu one more time jump to the ``It's okay`` part, talking with their parents and explaining what it meant, for the youngest they share more that blood, someone who took over all of possible roles, the burning feeling irradiating in the lower abdomen fades when she can rest her head on the teen shoulder, sure that nothing out there can bring harm to the siblings.

An imaginary gust of wind blows the Uzume hair, as the elder sibling beside smiles and laughs, revealing to be the one blowing the air, extending the playful moment to the max.

they cares not about what happened in the past or that others misses the old world, as not even the apocalypse could change the family routine, or the parents lack of attention to their children, since the beginning, he remembers the adult overworking themselves to the extreme, leaving the siblings without a guide, Mafuyu felt lost for years, not sure if those two people were his parents or just someone that shares the same blood, when Reira announced another pregnancy, he knew that the same fate waited the infant, a life of loneliness, and to never hear a parent saying ``I love you``, fearing this future, the teen took over the duty of raising a child by himself. Is no secret that the girl considers the brother as a father, showing this trust by only speaking next to him, as she craves the safety and reassurance that comes with the elder Uzume presence, and he never hide this honor that it feels to be someone comfort person.

The father, a charming Chinese men in his late forties approaches. Yi Han stands out thanks to the glorious dark hair brushed in a classic and refined hairstyle, a well chosen dark blue suit and the silk skin, leaving no space to comments about flaws, while the fellow scientists worries about work, the men prioritize the physical appearance over looking clever all the time.

How the men ignores the younger child enkindles rage within Mafuyu, ``A parent should always know where his children are``, yet the youngest replies with silence, non concern to hid the scorn growing towards the men. The siblings carries on their moment, Yi takes that as a defeat, looking over the future of the family, wondering if the methods of raising they are valid, or just a cruel way to treat an eleven year old child, a sensation of shame overcomes the men smooth persona, choosing to step away before any flaw can be shown in front of others.

The father-daughter relationship had been damaged years ago, as Yi Han refused to believed about the sight and her decision of no longer wanting to pretend to be a boy, claiming that such important decision should've been delayed due to insufficient age, blaming Mafuyu influence and the heat of the moment, the lack of support pushed her away from the him, hurt beyond word. With the head of Saga paying for everything, and how the brother hold her hand at every second, Miyako went forward with the new life, going through treatment and last year a surgery to end the circle, mistaking the corporation gesture for kindness, yet the goal strayed from that good, a way to keep the child under their wings and docile, a solution to make sure that she couldn't leave the shelter or abandoned the cause, to enhanced their trust further, the pharmaceutical company developed a tiny device into a specific area of the body, assuring that the technology would avoid the necessity of daily hormones pills. A factor that seal a bound between the girl and the company, seeing the CEO as a hero of some sort, someone that aid in the most dire moment, able to enjoy life as Miyako, a name picked by the brother. The solo demand made by the company happened to be a small thing, cooperation, and nothing more. A contract signed by the child to assist in a project to adapt the sight to soldiers, so they could hijack into infected minds and gain upper hand, despite believing in this supernatural gift, the head scientist cared not to make it a project, using it as a mere mean to an end.

One would think that the end of the world could bring people together, but it didn't, the mother spend most of the days working in the dream of manufacturing a vaccine, or at least something to retard the effect of the virus, while Yi Han makes sure that the shelter geothermal power plant remains in working order. Mafuyu takes the promise to an honorable level, even joining her in classes about electronics, mechanics, medicine and biology, subjects from the new educational system, a way to create a better future, so the new generation can grow knowing the most important lessons instead of dwelling in past history or unnecessary mathematics. Despite finding those five hours boring, she cherishes every second of it, as what follows it in the schedule its never pleasant.

When the experiment time begins, Mafuyu has to leave, not a single test is harmless, each holding their own amount of pain or discomfort. Recalling about yesterday, the scientist attempted to created a theory about how the brain connect itself with the sight, looking for a logical way to explain the ability of seeing through others eyes. A thin and silver needle penetrate through the lower eye until it reached the brain, the whole procedure took place under heavy anesthesia, yet the pain grew harder to withstand afterward, worse that an emotional hollowness, a feeling that shocked through the brain and the nervous system.

However, a worst one exist, The Helmet, or so she calls it, a metal device is introduced on the head, then electrical stimulus are send to the brain, a way to improve her eyes and recover a tiny fraction of the natural sight, it makes the body fake a scenario where each centimter of skin melts, every cell and fiber deteriorates, reaching an astonishing level of fading, only to be wake by the same pain, left with no choice, but to endure it the most brutal five minutes of the day, it happened several times, and it can't seen to get better anytime soon. The shock waves suffering is staggering, yet she judges as a necessary evil, willing to make this sacrifice, blind by manipulation and scared of the chance of Saga sending the family away from the shelter, not willed to put Mafuyu into harm ways, or to sacrifice the parents career.

Using the girl lack of direction and the endless search for a purpose to created a perfect harmony, as Miyako feels like a sheep in a forest full of werewolves, a part of her believes that the suffering can be justify, and the other she deserves the pain coming from those test.

Regardless of the brother encouragement words, remanding how important her life is, the child refuses to see in the same way, seeing herself as a pillar, holding back the corruption from crumbling under the one she loves, willing to continue with the penitence, just for a small glance of a better tomorrow.

#women writers #artists on tumblr #book blog #reading #writing #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #creative writing #horror #zombie #horror writing

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i-was-raised-by-a-polyglot · 1 year

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Chapter II – “The Exponent Of Evil”

The more I bonded with Paradox, the more I found out about how finicky his being was. Once, we couldn't buy blueberry cupcakes, because of new government sanctions, and he sobbed uncontrollably for three hours. He only stopped when his emolument of blueberry muffins came in the mail.

Another time, I, being a waggish soul, tried to make some snide comments about how Paradox ate constantly despite not need food to live. He called me an iconoclast, and ran back to his room.

One day, I had had enough, and confronted him about this, causing us to muse about his life so far. Conscientious of the fact he was less than a year old, we wanted to chalk it up to his young age and unusual childhood, but something still felt wrong.

The answer didn't strike me until a week later, when I was taking in the pathos of the Better Call Saul episode 'Fun & Games'. Jimmy being extradited to Washington for pulling a slip and fall on the White House reminded me of something strange about Paradox. Despite being a product of Lincolnian dark magic, he was no Luddite. In fact, he was the very opposite, as evidenced by his love of space and large rockets, apropos of his work at NASA.

The ostentatious excesses of science and modernity were his favorite things in the world. He would stir up a brouhaha every time someone claimed that vaccines were killing off the Sasquatch population. Watching my creation eloquently defeat the intellectual riff-raff always gave me an ineffable pride, yet something retroactively felt odd about that.

To test the waters, I decided to perform an experiment with a menagerie of sewer rats. If Paradox willingly frolicked with the rats, that would mean he had the regular brain of a minion. If he didn't, that would mean he had... something more nebulous.

To hide my presence during the experiment, I camouflaged myself by wearing the green patina off of old statue.

I had nurtured the rats with only brackish water for a week, so they were in the optimal state for frolicking. It really pulled on my heartstrings when Paradox not only didn't want be around the rats, but called an exterminator to get rid of them. I tried to intervene, however, when I emerged from my hiding place, the rats bit me all over my body, even though I was about to adjudicate in favor of their side. I was eminently diseased for months thereafter.

My mind was foggy, the days would grow crepuscular without me even realizing. I would have debates with the imaginary, giving plenty of ripostes only to suddenly remember bedside lamps can't speak. Everything but my illness seemed trivial, or even nonexistent. Paradox tried to alleviate my pain by singing all the greatest hits from the 80s to me. My delirium and melancholia, unfortunately, did not subside.

My body felt carceral. My mind and spirit were in shards. However, I was still lucid enough to understand how dilatory all of this was. Unfortunately, there were not a litany of solutions to my problem. All I could do is take my medicine and wait for it to wreak havoc on the virus.

As the months dragged on, my situation proved immutable. Doctors loved me and, although they told me it was because of my innate charisma, I knew it was because my illness couldn't be cured by conventional means.

I remained unabashed about my connections to the Dark Arts, and knew that the way to fix all of this was to create an army of minions. I would train each one of them to become the epitome of medical practice, and they would cure me. Paradox told me that my decision was rash, but what did he know? I had once seen him abrogate an audience with the Queen of NASA, because he didn't believe in monarchies, instead of going and simply pocketing valuable objects when she wasn't looking.

I made 500 new minions, who were also part fog and part animal, and chose names like "Glitch", "Hip-Hop" or "Cash-flow". At first, I tried to make their training not too overwhelming, but this wasted a lot of time and, by the end, I was shouting instructions at them through ear-piercingly loud speakers. My vociferous comments guiding them through doing appointments, treating patients, performing surgeries, etc. When my minions would say that my words lacked sensibility, I would rebuke that this was all to save a life, and accuse them of insensitivity.

As my physical health devolved, my methods only became more extreme, my actions more visibly desperate. I longed for nothing more than to recapture my old, jaunty self. To regain my stolen effulgence. To once again brandish my incredible superiority.

Paradox still took umbrage with my plan. He said it was grandiose, but cruel and poorly thought out. He adjured me to find another way to beat my illness.

His demeanor irritated me, it was the same from when I tried to banish him to the dungeon. My plan was assiduous. I was so close to regaining my panache. How could he deny this after I went through such efforts to conciliate him? He had the mawkish mind of a five year old. My creation was virtually a facsimile of a diaper-wearing baby.

I tried to obliterate him, but, in my weakened state, the most I could do was lightly tapping on his left cheek. Not being capable of making any substantive attacks, I decided to placate him by promising that I would leave the training of my minions up to an actual medical school. I expected it to not be enough, and for an invective-filled rant, but surprisingly he simply thanked me and walked away.

I was glad I was able to titivate things for him. Specially since I was in no state to broadside him.

In time, my relationship with the medical community turned rancid. Doctors from all across the globe coalesced to oppose me and my machination. One day, I found a peculiar, laconic note left at my doorstep. "You're the exponent of evil.", it read.

Clearly, my life had gone haywire.

Shaken to my core, I purchased a bazooka and hid it beneath a pile of copper coins covered in verdigris. Only a soul with a perspicacious sense for finding weapons would find it there. I considered buying a bulletproof vest as well, but due to the difficulties of managing a village-worth of minions, I deferred it to a later time.

A week later, one my minions, Misnomer, was found dead on the downstairs toilet. The image of an anthropomorphic needle carved onto his forehead. Later the same evening, I heard news of a caucus being formed with the intent of making badmouthing me mandatory by law.

These events did not seem sporadic to me. These were only more proof that I had successfully fructified my endeavor, and, as a result, a conspiracy had been created to destroy me.

This kerfuffle could not be left one-sided or unopposed. I drafted a ritzy and ingenious plan to enact my revenge. I would proselytize my cause, my war, through pirate radio waves, and the world would understand the truth.

My first broadcast was an unfair and dishonest critique of my enemies. I emblazoned their reputations with the most repugnant of things. I would speak not with a languid sort of anguish, but enthusiastic wrath. I put the onus of every evil and vice on my opponents. I never asked them to atone, for their crimes were too great and awful. Gargantuan sins that made sure redemption was simply out of their reach.

Something bothered about my broadcast, I had proffered an excellent expose, yet the reception had been lukewarm. My spiel was convincing and articulate, by Lucifer's beard, why did it not set the world ablaze? Had I come off too avuncular? Had I bombinated too much during the Live Ritual segment, or, perhaps, not enough? Had the mnemonic devices for the names of my enemies I had shared not been useful? How had I failed to raise a rabble?

I paced in my decorous bedroom for hours attempting to crack this puzzle. I returned to Lincoln's accursed book searching for answers, and there, just beneath a spell for transmogrifying mice into presidents, I found them. My cadence was the issue. It was not spellbindingly hypnotic enough to turn my listeners frenetic. I needed to use demonic persuasion spells to have my opinions not be dismissed as simply hyperbole from emotionally-damaged simpleton.

In my next broadcast, I utilized a spell which made my words bespoke to each listener's personal taste. For some I cited statistics, for others made strong appeals to emotion, and for others still I simply made guttural screams as I writhed in pain for the entire 5-hour show, and that somehow got the point across.

The spell made me an incredible interlocutor even to Paradox, who, after the show, agreed to be my co-host. The listeners found him a tad cloying, but he developed a cult following nonetheless.

Unfortunately, however, we soon found out that the medical community could not abide our radio show. They found within themselves the volition to do something quite ghastly.

With a faux genteel demeanor, they made a television broadcast pleading with government to censor my show. To put my radio career in a sepulchre.

#chapters

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the-new-hip-priest · 2 years

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So much is happening all at once.

Processing is haaaaaaard. There's so much I want to say but it's like my brain just doesn't have the power (how you doin', long covid brain fog). I started my new job. I've been working for three weeks now and it still isn't sinking in. Ever since I got into a car accident at the end of April, I've been actively tuning out my base thoughts and feelings in favour of going with the flow. I can get through *~the present moment~* but every emotion I push down bubbles away inside until the pressure is too intense and I can't stop crying and making a general tit of myself. Then I have to be responsible again so I force my brain into screensaver mode, and do my best impression of a functioning adult until it's safe to take my mask off and resume panicking. It's all so new to me. In the last 15 years I have worked at two McDonald's stores, a jewellers, a very brief stint in a two dollar shop, and was an office administrator for a respite camp. Collectively, that's just under three years worth of employment. I spent at least four years in education, and the remaining eight years completely debilitated by mental illness and a developmental issue.

So yeah, on some level I understand that this is a reasonable reaction for someone like me who spent so many years suffering and struggling to get my foot in the door of society and find any sort of employment. Now I support two women to live as independently as possible and it honestly doesn't feel like work most of the time. BUT STILL! I feel like I should be grateful and cheery about this change in circumstance but I'm just scared, sleepy, and dopey. If I'm not working then I'm always a little bit drunk. If I'm not drinking, it's because I'm trying to nap (which my cat finds highly offensive. He goes out of his way to prohibit my rest at all costs). I have my hobbies but I do them in a daze if I do them at all. Most of the time it feels like I'm watching myself through a foggy bathroom mirror. My movements are all automated response. I haven't felt much like going out because I need so much time to recover from, I'unno, just being? Change is hard even for neurotypicals, it's especially hard for autistics.

It's taking me so long to get these words out. I'm actually quite concerned about this cognitive decline post-covid and I don't have a GP any more (but that's a sad story for another post). Writing is one of my most valuable therapeutic outputs and I feel so bogged down without it. I do lots of colouring and zen patterns these days because writing takes up so much energy. I have to get these things out before they consume me, again. My days are spent working or in anticipation of work. It took me four months to get a haircut and I'm currently rocking two months worth of regrowth. My periods changed after vaccinations, and changed again after infection and it really fucks with my self-esteem. I used to get a few each year. Now I get it every two weeks. Every menstruating person I've talked to about this has also experienced a change, but no one seems to be doing any research beyond noting the phenomena.

I don't have a conclusion paragraph. It's finally time to bleach my hair.

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slutabed · 3 years

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#not to act like the first person to ever experience something like this #which I do every time something happens to me #but I’m so dhsjsksjsj about being on meds #like I feel it just #amped up my anxiety??#bc now I’m like omg what if something interacts. why do I feel so weird. am I brain foggy or nauseous bc of this or normal reasons #is everything making me nauseous or is that an excuse to not eat #am I gonna need to be on this forever and is it even working #and now I’m like. I told my doc I couldn’t focus and etc symptoms and she gave me medicine for anxiety #and now I can’t focus on anything but anxiety and side effects from the meds #which honestly I’m not experiencing a ton but also #gah idk I just don’t like it #it’s the same way I felt about the covid vaccine I was like I know this is good for me but get it the fuck out of my #body pls #anyway #I’m at the beach trying not to be anxious #but I read one (1) unfortunate tumblr post and now my anxiety is through the roof #I just #idk I don’t want this lmao I wanted it until I got it and now I’m like I don’t want this anymore #mich vents #also I know I’ve only been on it for two seconds so there’s no way it’s even working yet it’s just #idk yanno

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bratz-kitten · 3 years

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ASTRO OBSERVATIONS [part 5]

— people with jupiter in the 8th may experience an “abundance” of traumatic experiences throughout life, often relating to death; these are the people who truly feel like everyone they love ends up dying. at their worst, they can become desensitized to death— jupiter is ruled by sagittarius, a sign known for being in denial when in difficult situations in favor of optimism. these natives can pretend like nothing actually happened, or minimize the situation in their head so that they don’t have to face it.

— okay this might be a weird one... like, you know in asoiaf when arya was walking through the streets and was always like “i’m as quiet as a shadow”? that’s literally the energy of someone with planets in the 12th house/chart ruler in the 12th house. these people are so stealthy. they’re able to move so quietly and without anyone noticing, both literally and figuratively. on one hand, they’re very quiet about their plans and ambitions to the point where other people only find out when they’re achieving success over it; on the other hand, they just. don’t like making noise while walking idk bitch you’ll only see me coming when i’m right beside you, i even get paranoid that i’m breathing too loud and that other people will hear

— people with moon aspecting mars can be incredibly impulsive when they feel hurt or triggered. yall need to be careful with doing things in the heat of the moment that you know you’ll regret later... but in the moment, you feel so hurt that it clouds your rational side. please be more self-aware about this because you may make decisions that will directly affect you for the worse in the future

— people with leo mars ft. constantly asking you for pictures... about anything. they just wanna SEE LMFAO THEY DON’T CARE WHAT IT IS THEY’RE SEEING. you just got ready to go out? “send pics of your makeup and your full outfit”. you’re waiting in a long boring line to get the covid vaccine? “send pics of the line”. your mom baked cake? “send pics of the cake”. plus they send so many random pictures while texting, it’s their special love language

— having moon conjunct moon/venus in synastry feels insane. you tell them something you’ve been through, and they’re immediately like “that happened with me as well.” it doesn’t even have to be something grand, sometimes just very specific things you thought were particular about you. the amount of understanding that comes with this aspect in synastry can feel very new and intense especially if you’re used to seeing yourself as the “odd one out”, used to feeling isolated in your experiences

— people with pluto in the 1st house often feel the need to erase “traces” of their existence, for example deleting messages that they sent people, deleting all of their social media posts. they can feel anxious and paranoid about other people having access to their past self, even if the past self in question is from, like. a week ago

— people with chiron in the water houses (4th/8th/12th) might’ve suffered bullying to the point where they repress their memories. a lot of their memories of their school years may feel foggy if they were bullied in those years

— also. people with chiron in the 8th house may feel as though they’ve been punished for wanting to experience intimacy. it’s like, the people who were supposed to be the closest to them – for example, their sibling or something – were the ones who hurt them the most.

— people with mercury-neptune aspects and strong pisces/neptune energy in their birth chart might struggle with only remembering things when they’re right in front of them. you should keep things in your peripheral vision to remind you of reality, especially when it comes to feelings— so that you won’t start getting lost inside your own head. like... keep the letters your friends wrote you by your bedside table so you can read them every time your brain starts convincing you that you’re not loved. keep the gifts you’ve been sent on display in your bedroom wall, or sentimental material things that remind you of past happy experiences.

— earth placements and their thing for asmr... omfg. it’s like they’re always looking for things to up their sensory experience/sensitivity. like, earth signs are the ones most connected to worldly experiences so they feel so soothed with the whole asmr experience: just hearing someone gently whispering or tapping on/scratching things calms them down and helps them fall asleep. they love the tingles it’s heaven for them

— moon-saturn aspects might hold and caress themselves while they sleep because their parents never did. yes i woke up and chose violence <3 your secret is NOT safe with me 💋

— while we’re on the topic of sleeping, a majority of the pisces moons i know need to sleep while hugging something, at least a pillow. they can’t just not hug something while they sleep, it’s very instinctive for them. anyways if any pisces moon needs a pillow to hold, i volunteer as tribute 💋

— virgo placements feel sososo soothed by hearing their cats purr. thinking about how my virgo placement friends are always the ones who send me videos of them petting their cats... and then i get soothed by how soothed they feel. it’s a win win situation, if you have virgo placements it’s hereby your duty to send me a video of you petting your cat while they purr. right now. GO

— people with gemini in the 3rd house might have shaky movements of the hands when other people look at them doing things. very specific i know but the third house rules hands and gemini is a sign that has somewhat of an anxious, twitchy quality to it. on the other hand, people with capricorn in the 3rd house (scorpio risings, using whole signs) have the steadiest hands i’ve ever seen lol their movements ooze confidence, these bitches know how to make you feel as thought they know exactly what they’re doing

— people with venus in the 1st house ft. altering their pics with photoshop and hating posting selfies without filters because they never feel like their appearance is good enough. stop it. you don’t need to always look your best and especially not if your ‘best’ isn’t even what you actually look like. also... don’t even think about making self-deprecative jokes about your appearance. next time i find one of yall saying “ahaha im not bad for a 5 without talent” i’m squishing your head between 2 pieces of toast and calling you an idiot sandwich. you’re BEAUTIFUL

— having venus in the 3rd house in composite with someone? do you mean calling each other the absolute ugliest nicknames in the most endearing way?

— leo deals with themes of the ego, and it seems that leo placements often struggle with attracting narcissistic people into their life... leo suns/mercuries can be raised by loud, overbearing, narcissistic parents who see their kid as an extension of themselves and who teach the kid to always be very supportive and caring towards them or else they’ll deny them of words of affirmation-- either by insulting them to shatter their self-esteem or simply never complimenting the kid back. leo moons/mars/venus tend to attract narcissistic partners who only care about serving their own emotional needs and ignore the ones of their partner, and who feed off of their supportive and giving nature. which is why leo placements really need to watch out for being gullible, naïve and dismissing the red flags because my god, you be falling for some shady people.

— people with personal planets in the 12th house/chart ruler in the 12th house might feel like they can’t let go of their past life— they may dream of memories, people or places from another life. it’s like they can’t detach from it, and even if they can’t directly remember their past life, it’s like they feel it in their bones. also, they might’ve felt... estranged from their family ever since childhood; there may have been feelings of being unable to emotionally connect to their (often, distant) parents, and they might’ve even wondered if they were adopted because of how different they felt to the rest of the family.

— okay so, a thing that people with saturn in the 3rd house need to look out for is mentally checking out of conversations while they’re still happening. these people can detect when they’re being manipulated really fast and their way of dealing with it can be to immediately shut down, to grow cold and silent and not even bother answering when you’re expected to respond. and, like, that’s great when someone starts screaming at you or being insulting/trying to coerce you into shit, but take notice if you find yourself shutting your loved ones out as soon as they say anything that triggers you. don’t simply detach from them, communicate what’s wrong

— aries placements, ESPECIALLY aries suns and moons, value generosity so much and they get so turned off by stingy ppl who don’t share with others, especially when others need it. like.. if you’re hanging out in a group with them and someone asks for a bite of your food because they have no money and you say no... espect them to never respect you. ever.

— people with libra placements use soooo many adjectives to describe things. something can’t just be beautiful, it has to be DIVINE and CELESTIAL and INTOXICATING. they can be so expressive god it’s so fcking funny

— capricorn placements HATE asking others for advice because they think no one knows better than them (and they’re not wrong, lol). when they truly care for someone, they might ask the person for advice simply as a sign that they respect, trust and value their judgement. even if they don’t plan on taking it LMFAO

— people with mars in a water sign can have this terrible habit of expecting other people to guess what they want. and then they get passive agressive when you don’t instinctively feel what it is they want... and when you ask them “do you want this?”, they go like “FINALLY. i thought you’d never get there”. stop it. i know that you want people to understand you in a way that transcends words, but you can’t expect people to read your mind and then get disappointed when they don’t, thinking “oh if they loved me that much then they would’ve known that i really want chipotle for dinner :(” GIRL WHAT. COMMUNICATE YOUR NEEDS

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bmbochangetales · 2 years

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“Many countries are in a birth shortage. Do you realize this? There is no way this generation will replace the older one at this rate unless they start to have kids”

The news blathered on as Sylvia was waiting in line for her vaccine. The pandemic seemed to be finally coming to an end but of course the news always had to create the next big problem.

And now it was a supposed birth crisis and lack of people having babies in some countries. Well, she was just in no rush to have them. Who cares?

As she was sitting waiting for the okay to leave, her neighbor Mark come of of the vaccination area too. He waved as he handed his paper to the receptionist. The other one called Sylvia back over.

“There should be some mild side effects but if anything extremes happens call us! We are so happy you’re vaccinated!” She rubbed her big pregnant belly that was ready to pop like her tits out of her top.

Sylvia had a flash of a thought of her having a huge round stomach and a massive pair of tits rivaling the secretary, but shook the thought away. “Uh yeah. Okay”

At home, she quietly threw her stuff down and made coffee. She heard Mark's door slam not long later. He must be home too. Sylvia puttered around. She tried to clean up and do laundry but her brain felt kind of foggy. She turned on the TV and flipped through the channels. It felt like every channel was talking about pregnancy, babies, or fucking. Even the news! There people arrested for having sex in different places. And the vaccination place with that secretary was on camera encouraging everyone to get vaccinated.

God! She flicked it off and realized how horny she was feeling. She needed to find her vibrator. She found it and quickly slid it in. She tried to rub it out herself but failed. Then, she was imagining Mark fucking her. It didn't help. Her mind immediately pictured her just like the secretary, heavy with a bump that let every know she was pregnant and very far along, tits leaking as they waited to be sucked.

Yes, yes yes! This is what she was chasing, she felt it building, imagining Mark fucking her full while already carrying his first. She was nearly there when there was a pounding sound from the door. she couldn't even be bothered to fix herself. She swung the door open and there was Mark with his cock out and hard, stroking it.

"Uh, just really need a fuck," he mumbled. The end table would have to do as he forced her on sliding his cock right into Sylvia's waiting, needy pussy. he slammed to her and they felt all the frustration building. It was clouding their minds but neither seemed to care. As they began to cum, they both were already to go a second round.

It took days for the fog of the heat to clear away, even when it did Sylvia or Mark couldn't think straight like they used to. Sylvia looked in the mirror and scrambled as fast as she could in her state to find the card from the vaccination clinic.

"Uhhhh so like I got vaxerated, vachinatid, verbatated oh you know! Like the shot thingy last week, and I had like lotsa sex with my hunky sexy neighbor. I think he like super strong cum cause I'm like super hugie pregnant! Like my boobies are sooooo big and milky leaky! And like uhhhhh...my belly is huge! Like I could totes give birth soon so Mark could fuck 5 more babies into me! MMMmmmmm like fuck, I need a fuck now!Fucking makes babies" She started sucking on her fingers imagining being kept pregnant to pop out babies one after another. She wouldn't stop.

The doctor on the other end smiled as the phone number matched to the chart. Sylvia was given the super breeder serum. She was right on schedule.

"Everything is alright Sylvia, hyper pregnancies are common immediately after the shot. In fact I bet your body is just reminding you to get pregnant again as soon as your first one comes out. Don't worry at all. In fact why don't you go grab..." he scans the chart "Mark and let him fuck you until the baby is ready! Don't forget, more fucking will make it all better because babies will make the world better."

“Like okay Doctor!” She forgot to even hang up as she banged on Mark’s door. He opened it and his cock rose to attention.

“Markie! Like the doctor says you totally need to like fuck me lots” she tried to remember more "Uhh yeah, we fuck and make tons of babies!" All Mark needed to hear was fuck. God he needed to fuck her pregnant again and again.

The doctor still on the line marked down his charts. Doses 12858386 and 12858390 have successfully integrated into world population replenishment positions. Success.

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buriedlove · 3 years

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Buried Love Update 01.08.21

Hey Buried Lovers ❤️

Sorry things have been a little quiet around these parts! My immune system met my 2nd covid vaccine and just went ‘uh what the hell’ so it’s been fever and foggy brain central around here recently (I should say I’m the only person in my friend group who suffered … I don’t want to scare anyone!) I’m 100% better now so let’s goooo…

The writing …

I’m just doing some little re-writes to day 4 to make it more personalised depending on who you choose to spend time with. I may have got to the stage where I’m playing around with the day too much and need to just set it free to the beta pack 😅

That said … I’ve just re-written an Abe scene in 4.2 and it’s made my heart flutter so I’m hoping it was worth it.

I worry sometimes that the characters are all a little bit ‘too perfect’ with respect to who they are and their attraction to MC but I love writing them so much that I hope they’re also a joy to read. They all have their little flaws … it’s just they’re too adorable to hold their flaws against them… right?

The teaser…

So here’s a little teaser for 4.2. It’s my favourite part so far, and I can’t wait to see what you all think of it.

You’ve got 6 options and you can only choose one … decisions, decisions 👀

The asks…

Thank you to everyone sending in asks and sorry I’ve been a bit slow with them ❤️ I have a few more to answer and I’ll make sure I answer them this week. If you have any more just send them my way ❤️

That’s it for this week, apart from to say that I’m looking forward to welcoming everyone back into the dome this month!

#buried love update #buried love #interactive fiction #twine game #interactive story #narrative game

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mommyx4 · 3 years

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https://gofund.me/9227793f

**THIS IS MY PERSONAL GOFUNDME* I am not sharing for someone else.. this is sadly my story. I had many think it was just a share for someone else. I wish I was not in bad health 😭 and my kids.

My son was Va x x injured and my health has went downhill drastically since 😞 I have proof he is injured from his pediatrician if anyone wants proof (pediatrician actually wrote a letter). This is a legitimate need for help. I am including my gofund me. If you can donate even 5.00 it all adds up. Anything really helps. I also have paypal if you do not want to use gofundme and a cashapp and venmo. I am so desperate to get proper Healthcare so I can get better. I am suffering severe adrenal failure at the moment and afraid I won't make it without proper help. I have a chronic internal inflammation that happens and nobody can give me answers. My brain is so bad swollen feeling and foggy I an inoperable at times. 😕

** I included Labs in my gofund me.

**we also was exposed to extreme black mold for years and was unaware until closer to time we moved out of apartment. 😭

If you cannot donate thank you for at least reading my post and if you are able to share. You can copy and paste it. I appreciate it” 🙏❤

https://gofund.me/9227793f

#autism #mold #gofundme #help #share #injury #medical #urgent #gofundmecampaign #adrenalfailure #mastcell #autoimmune #vaccines #family #vaccine #daughter #son #children #kids #viral #covid #covid_19 #holistic #naturopathy #naturopathic #HBOT #damage #moldtoxicity #brainfog

#popular #instagram #follow #love #trending #like #viral #instagood #explorepage #photography #likeforlikes #followforfollowback #music #tiktok #fashion #explore #photooftheday #famous #instadaily #memes #likes #picoftheday #followme #beautiful #cute #model #style #funny #beauty #viral #Twitter #Facebook #virus #doctor #medicine #medical #music

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exquisitley-obsessed · 4 years

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Pieces of People - Part 14

Author: @exquisitley-obsessed

Summary: Vampire y/n returns to Mystic Falls after finding out her friend Stefan Salvatore has gone off the rails with blood, what she doesn’t expect to happen is find out her deep-rooted connections with the Mikaelson family, in particular – Elijah.

Word Count: long

Pairings: Elijah Mikaelson x Reader

Warnings: none

A/N: I love how it takes me a few weeks but I always come back to this story!

MASTERLIST FOR THIS STORY,

MASTERLIST

“Vodka and…lots of ice.”

Y/n smiled at the young bartender before taking the drinks menu and fanning herself. It was hot. Unbearably hot - the kind of summer heat that makes the air feel foggy, where you have no choice but to sit in a sun-daze and wait till it passed. Sitting there on that slippery bar stool, y/n could feel the sweat drip down her bare thighs, her short skirt and strappy top doing little to help with the sweltering warmth. The window, a few feet away, was only able to splutter out measly coughs of wind, but y/n took each one gratefully. Summer had hit, and New Orleans was paying for it.

“Thank you,” She took the glass with need, allowing the crisp, cool liquid hit the back of her throat and burn its way down - it had been a while since she had last fed, and she needed that extra something to ease the throbbing hunger. The car journey was long and brutal. It started off wonderful, driving down to New Orleans on the open road with the clear, blue skies above, the windows rolled all the way down, the car flooded with air. But as she neared the city the number of cars increased and soon she was sitting in constant traffic, the black as night car heating up around her, encasing her in thick air. Eventually she had got the damn thing parked and crawled her way into the nearest bar – she had earned that much she decided. As soon as she had had a break she would be off again, headed for the address Klaus outlined in his note

It had come through the door a few weeks after the night of the storm. A few weeks after y/n had seen Elijah. They had proceeded to talk the whole night as they, very slowly, made their way back to the Salvatore mansion. He had left her with nothing but a kiss on the cheek and a plea that she come to New Orleans as soon as she could – she proceeded to promise him that she would meet him for a whiskey and a night of mischief one day, just as soon as she was no longer required in Mystic Falls.

Then in came the letter.

Dearest y/n,

Trouble has arisen here in New Orleans and I require all the friends and family I have. I know I am not one to ask for help but please – I need you. I hope to see you as soon as possible, if you come, talk to no one. I don’t know who I can trust. I’m staying at the Brumley House, Room 507.

Cordially,

Klaus

“Typical,” Damon had scoffed as he read it over her shoulder, “You don’t know what you’re gotten yourself into y/n – ended up accidentally joining the Mikaelson army.”

Ignoring Damon’s snide comments, y/n proceeded to pack her bags, seeing clearly the gravity of the situation. Klaus would never, ever ask for help - unless it was seriously necessary. She had driven down the following day and had ended up here, sweating furiously in a bar in sunny New Orleans.

“Excuse me, another?” Y/n smiled and watched as her second drink was fixed sucking on the ice cubes of her first, still bitter from the vodka’s bite.

“I never took you for a vodka and ice kind of girl.” A voice swam from behind her and y/n swirled around before a soft smile warmed her cheeks.

“Klaus.” He moved to sit next to her on the bar, his usual jacket discarded of, leaving him in a dark shirt and jeans. “Well, desperate times call for desperate measures.” She answered. Her hearing at that moment kept focusing in on the poor bartender’s pulse, the thick blood currently beating around his body, the veins in his neck quivering as it did so. Her mouth felt hot and dry, her teeth aggressively sharp the razor edges running against her inner lip. Snatch, snack, erase. Damon’s mantra drummed through her head, she couldn’t help but wonder when the bartender went on his break.

“Here you go.” His cheery voice snapped her back into reality.

“Thank you.” She mumbled, taking the glass without eye contact.

“I think perhaps right now it’s not vodka you want.” Klaus eyed the bartender, “Perhaps something to make you feel a little more, how shall I say...human?” Y/n ignored the comment and took another sip, rolling her eyes.

“I was just coming to find you.”

“Oh really?”

“Well, those were your instructions, right? Brumley House, room 507. Talk to no one.” Y/n quipped as she shuffled the ice cubes about in her glass.

“Y/n,” Klaus murmured after a moment, “What are you talking about?”

“What?” She turned to him. He was staring at her wide eyed and a little confused, the fact that he had never heard of a note or even Brumley house was clear as day. “Klaus…you sent me a letter, right? You told me you needed me here, in New Orleans.”

“A letter?” He quipped, his brow raised quizzically. Swiftly y/n dug around in her back pocket before protruding a well thumbed note and handing it to Klaus. She watched as he pinched it carefully before uncurling the slip to read. His eyes turning a distant grey colour as he dissolved into his own mind. Then he was up, taking long strides out of the bar leaving y/n to quickly slap down some money, grab her bag and chase after him.

“Klaus!” She called, running down the street. “Klaus, wait for me!” She watched as he turned and disappeared down an alley, she picked up the pace. It wasn’t long until she had caught up with him, finding him halfway down the path, scanning the note in more seclusion. “Klaus where are you going? What are we going to do? Klaus.”

“Y/n I did not send you this letter, do you understand? Someone here in New Orleans wants you here and wants you to come to this address, I mean for God’s sake if you hadn’t just so happened to stumble into Marcel’s bar, I would never have seen you, then what? You’d be there by now, dealing with witches or wolfs, we don’t know what happened when we lifted the mind block from you, this kind of magic isn’t your typical kind of every day bog standard Harry Potter stuff love-”

“Klaus! I got it, okay…I know...I’m beginning to realise all of that, but my question still remains…what are we going to do?” Klaus looked at her for a moment, but his brain was buzzing wildly behind his eyes as another Mikaelson plan formulated before him.

“We’re going to go to this address, we’re going to see who wants you so badly, and then we ‘re going to kill them.”

***

A distant bell was now ringing in her ears. She sat in the front of the car, watching sedately as dust particles swam in the sunlight, they moved numbly before her, drifting this way and that before disappearing in the shadows, never to be seen again.

Her throat now felt raw. The blood pounding in her head as she struggled to focus on the setting around her. God, she should have just compelled that bartender into the alley, better safe than sorry.

“Are you okay?” Klaus asked, y/n hadn’t even noticed that he had opened her door for her.

“I’m fine.” She coughed before giving him a smile. And she was, a little hunger isn’t something she had never felt before. “So, this is the address?”

“Yeah I don’t know how their plan would ever work,” Klaus looked up, “I don’t think anyone would believe that the Mikaelson family would ever step foot in here...never mind live in it.” The building was tall, and antique. The front stretched broadly and, glaring at them, sat rows and rows of windows all neat and in place, despite the fact that all of them were either bordered up or smashed in. They had parked in the overgrown greenery leading up to the house and proceeded to walk to the two domineering doors, a thick metal chain intertwined with the handles - Klaus broke this in record time.

“It would be suspicious.” She agreed. The building was on the outskirts of town, far away from any sense of civilisation. It was an eerie juxtaposition from the busy, bustling streets of New Orleans.

Once the door gave, they both were in and instantly y/n noticed the abandoned feeling of the place. Before them sat some sort of reception, a long time since anyone actually sat behind the washed-out baby blue desk. Walking over, y/n grabbed a handful of some of the papers scattered across the floor.

“This was a hospital.” She called out after a moment, looking through the many medical documents and helpful hand out sheets in her hands. Polio, measles, the flu, how to get vaccinated, how to wash your hands.

“Lovely.” Klaus muttered as he looked around him, “I still don’t even know how these people could think that you would actually think I lived here, I mean, what on earth was their plan?”

“I don’t know Klaus,” Y/n smiled at him over the papers, “Maybe I would have fell for it. You are a man of mystery.”

In that moment, the towering doors they had just opened moaned deeply before slamming shut with a thunderous clatter, the force scattering the papers into the air so that they somewhat swirled around them. The thundering boom echoed from the doors down the corridors ringing and disappearing into the heart of the building.

“Ah,” Klaus said after a moment, amused by the notion, “That’s their plan.” Moving over, y/n placed her hand on the door and felt the all to familiar barrier that blocked her from leaving. The door was locked with something a little more than nuts and bolts.

“Well,” She said turning from the door and facing the barren corridor opening up before her and Klaus, “Now what?”

“This way looks right.” Klaus mused, his curiosity not even tainted by the display of theatrics.

“Klaus...people know we’re here right? Like...you told Rebekah or Elijah, right?” Y/n was asking a question she already knew the answer to.

“Y/n,” Klaus turned to her, “Hybrid.” He pointed a finger into his own chest before pointing at her, “Ripper...we’re going to be a okay love.”

“You’re not invincible Klaus.”

“I’m the closest thing there is to invincible.”

“Yeah well I’m not, all it takes is a bit of sharp wood and I’m done...besides, it’s not you that they’re after.” He paused, chewing on her words for a moment.

“Correct...it’s not me that they’ll be going for but Y/n...you still are one of the oldest vampires in existence, whatever is waiting for us at the end of the line, I do doubt it has any kind of ability to over power you.” Y/n didn’t see any particularly cordial feelings on Klaus’s expression but she did feel his words warming around her, strengthening her confidence.

“True, it’s just, if we’re being honest, I haven’t been a true fight since-”

“Let’s go left,”

“Oh, okay...as I was sayings, I haven’t been up against anyone really since before I...” She trailed off.

“You found out you’re probably the worlds most wanted murderer,”

“Wow, okay, thanks for putting it nicely.” But she grinned at him. Maybe because, like Elijah, Klaus understood what it could mean to be the ‘bad guy’ - except, unlike Elijah, he wasn’t afraid of the title. “But yes.”

“Do you think it’ll be different now? Fighting someone?” Klaus continued, peering into rooms here and there as they walked by.

“I don’t know, but...if push comes to shove, I know I’ll be able to protect myself.”

“And more importantly, I know you will.” Klaus paused, shooting her a wry grin, “And I’m thinking we’re going to be able to put you to the test.” Klaus proceeded to gesture at the wall up ahead where the corridors split and ran in opposite directions. Scrawled across the walls manically in what could only be blood was the word ‘venit iustitia’ over and over and over. Klaus and y/n shared a look. Justice is coming.

***

“The sun always was our enemy.” Rebekah growled from behind the curtains, glaring out at the unwavering sun beating down on the innocent people. Sighing heavily she turned and collapsed into an arm chair, “One more minute of this heat and I might die.”

“Don’t be dramatic Rebekah.” Elijah stated blankly as he turned the page in his book. He was doing his part in the plan, researching the witch history across New Orleans as far back as the records went. No, it was not how he wanted to spend his Wednesday, but when the witches become a threat it’s good to know what you’re up against.

“Come on Elijah, even you must be feeling this bloody heat - I mean, you’ve even got your jacket off.” He shot her a look. The heat in New Orleans was unusually scalding but it wasn’t so bad to get in the way of business. However, even Elijah had to admit that the muggy air and relentless sun didn’t help with any hunger he felt.

“Where is Niklaus?” Moving the book out of his lap he stood and played with his cuffs, the heat already wearing his patience thin, “He promised to be back here by 4, he was to give me updates from Marcellus.”

“He’s Nick, Elijah...he goes by his own rules...his own times.” Rebekah sighed, fanning herself with a coaster.

“Still, I feel it is not like him, especially with all the possible threats out there.” He moved the wispy curtains ever so slightly so he could peer over the streets filled with families soaking up the sun.

“Aw, you’re worried about your baby brother. How sweet.” Rebekah quipped standing and stretching, “Klaus will be simply with Marcel, having one to many drinks and forgetting that he is our sworn enemy as per usual.” Elijah paused at this and mulled it over for a few seconds.

“Yes,” He mumbled to himself after a moment, moving the curtain back further and peering down to the end of the street where Marcel’s bar sat bold and proud, “Marcel.”

Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to check in on his little brother and Marcel. Let’s just say Elijah wasn’t fully trusting of him just yet.

***

“Marcellus,” The bar was quiet as Elijah walked in, it was that peculiar time of afternoon where the day drinkers were stumbling home and those coming for the night were still getting ready.

“Ah, Elijah,” Marcel stood at the bar currently in discourse with one of his bartenders, a drink in hand. “What do I owe the pleasure? I thought I was lucky enough seeing one Mikaelson today.”

“I understand this is unconventional,” Elijah continued, not moving and not acknowledging the comment, “But, forgive me, I was supposed to meet Niklaus a few hours ago and my sister believes he’s still here - I was wondering if I could talk to him.”

“Klaus?” Marcel raised a brow, “Nah, he left my bar hours ago, I don’t know where he is.”

“He left?”

“Yeah with some y/h/c chick, left in a hurry too.”

“Y/h/c?”

“Yeah about,” Marcel leaned against the bar and thought, “Yay high, she came into the bar and had a few drinks before her and Klaus got talking. My guy here say she had some kind of letter, apparently Klaus read it and stormed out.” The clogs in Elijah’s mind sprang into action, something wasn’t right. He glanced warily at the bartender but it was clear he posed no genuine threat. In fact, no threat at all.

“I see.” He mumbled after a moment, filling the silence.

“You know her?” The bartender spoke.

“A certain girl does come to mind.” He re-buttoned his jacket and turned for the door, now finished with the formalities and Marcel.

“You know what was in the note?” Elijah paused breifly but didn’t turn around, the reality of the situation now sinking into his bones.

“Now that Marcellus…I do not know.”

***

Y/n and Klaus were still walking, still moving. Despite the second wave of theatrics with the bloody wall, not much else had occured.

“’I’m still offended that this was their best plan.” None of what had happened so far had even tainted Klaus’s confidence. It was comforting.

“You never know, they could really surprise us with something.” Y/n grinned.

“Oh y/n, my expectations are so low. I have a feeling this is only going to be inconvenient and mostly, a waste of time.” He was still peeking in rooms here and there, y/n genuinely didn’t care to ask why. They had been walking for a good couple of minutes, y/n following Klaus as he weaved his way through the labyrinth of linoleum tiles and flickering lights. Eventually, the halls widened out and the rooms spotted along the walls thinned out until it was just ivory paint.

“Hang on.” Klaus stopped suddenly. Y/n automatically became perfectly still listening out with her extended hearing for anything and everything.

“What is it?” Y/n spoke into the silence, hearing nothing.

“I’m not sure.” He murmured, “Something’s wrong. I think-” He never got to finish the sentence, an invisible force swept him the length of the corridor, crashing him against the wall at the end.

“Klaus!” Y/n went to rush to his side when an all too familiar ringing exploded in her mind. It was so powerful, unlike anything she had ever felt before. The shrill noise shredding her mind. With trembling fingers her hands clutched at her ears clawing at her hair as her own shrill scream ricocheted off the walls. Commotion erupted around her and she could distantly hear Klaus’ voices amongst others - but it all felt so distant. The noise was relentless, pulsating against her ears making her collapse to the floor. Her pre-weakened state from the lack of blood giving her little gumption to fight back. The pain was temporary are darkness began creeping around her splotchy vision before consuming it whole.

***

Foggy. Her mind felt foggy. The sweltering heat, the now distant ringing in her ears, the sandpaper in her throat. As she came around she was distantly aware of being watched, faintly, she glanced around.

She was collapsed on top of a small podium, a square around a foot of the ground. The square itself was in a large hall, much older than the rest of the building, evident from the chipped wood curling around the room. However, pushed at the edges of the hall were crumpled medical beds and an assortment of medical equipment.

“You’re awake.” A voice said clearly.

“Obviously.” Y/n muttered under her breath with a series of curses. The woman stood two metres away, she was tall wearing a colourful shirt and a series of beaded necklaces. Y/n knew a witch when she saw one. The woman wasn’t alone, in fact, the number of people with her was quite astonishing.

Spread around the room was thirty witches give or take, all similar to woman who spoke. They stood equal distance apart focusing on y/n with intent, their hands clutched at their sides. Raising a hand, y/n reached out tentatively until she found what she was looking for. An invisible barrier, holding her within the metre by metre square.

“Don’t even bother. You’re not going anywhere anytime soon.” The woman spat.

“Don’t worry,” Y/n rubbed at her temples, “I know when I’m beat. Though I can’t say it was much of a fair fight.” She threw a glance to the thirty-odd witches surrounding them. Klaus was nowhere to be seen, but y/n wasn’t worried, it’s not like he could be killed.

“Oh trust me. Despite our...methods, today is a day of justice.” She sighed, shifting on her feet and folding her arms, “Well, not for you.” She smiled coyly, “You’re just the perfect solution to our rather complex problem.”

“And I assume by the theatrics, I don’t get a say in whether or not I’m going to help you.”

“Oh no, the choice is yours. I promise.” Y/n winced at her tone.

“Before we get started,” Y/n shifted so that she was now resting with her back against the invisible force, “Klaus?”

“He’s fine. Of course.”

“Good. Then what can I do for you?”

***

“You see,” The woman began, “Our problem is not with you. Like I said before, you’re sort of a wrong time and place situation.”

“Great.” Y/n murmured sarcastically.

“No really, our quarrel is with the Mikaelsons. You see, witches have inhabited New Orleans for a long time, since the Mikaelsons first left the city nearly a century ago. We’re safe here. Our families are here. Our lives. And now, the Mikaelsons have waltzed their way back into the city and demanded it for themselves. Their presence is the greatest threat to our community.”

“Have you asked politely for them to leave?” Y/n interrupted half-heatedly. An annoyed smile flickered across her face.

“Surprisingly, they’re not as co-operative.” Y/n hummed in response, “What I’m getting at is that we witches are done with them and all that they bring. They must leave. They will. But you see, I’m not interested in starting another war with the Original family. I refuse to put my peoples lives at risk because of them. No. The Mikaelsons will leave of their own accord.”

“I’m sure I’m not going to like where this is going but, how are you going to make them leave?” The witch smiled as if she was waiting for the question.

“You, of course. You’re close with them aren’t you, closer than anyone’s gotten - but you’re not actually in the family are you. You’re closest with Elijah. The most respectable original.”

“I-”

“I have eyes and ears everywhere. You vampires have a tendency to underestimate us witches.”

“I still don’t understand-”

“You need to die.”

“Oh.” Y/n stated dumbly after a moment. “And you’re going to...”

“No don’t be stupid. Aren’t you listening? Us witches are not to get our hands dirty.” She glanced at y/n’s incredulous expression and sighed loudly. “Your death will destroy the Mikaelsons, hopefully enough that they leave the city in which they lost you. But it’s one thing for you to die by our hands. That gives the Mikaelsons something to fight for, a new war for them to win and feel as though they avenged you. No, we can’t have that. So what’s worse than a bunch of witches killing you?” Y/n shrugged, “The Mikaelsons must kill you themselves.” Y/n stared dumb-founded, her jaw clenched.

“See then. They have no one to blame for themselves. Hopefully they’ll spiral with self-hatred, either that or they’ll turn on themselves. Just think of the possibilities. Elijah seems as though he would never kill you, even if it meant his own demise but Klaus and Rebekah are smarter than that. We just need to press the right buttons.”

“No offence, but, this is your plan?” Y/n half-laughed, “What are you going to do? How on earth are you going to make Klaus want to kill me? Ask him politely?”

“You’re missing the point. It’s not about making the Mikaelsons want to kill you, its about leaving them with no other choice.”

“I still don’t follow.”

“You’re a ripper correct?” Y/n didn’t respond, the pieces began to fall together. “Like I said,” The woman continued, “I have eyes and ears everywhere. In fact, I heard that you’re not just any ripper, but the Original Ripper. The first of your kind. Your relationship with blood is off-key and, to a certain extent, can never be truly controlled.”

“Whatever your plan is I can assure you. You know nothing about what you’re talking about. You are playing with fire and if you go any further you are going to get burned.”

“I’ve been researching vampires extensively. You are disgusting creatures. Made from evil to do evil.”

“I’m begging you.”

“Rippers can gain an illusion of control over time but deep-down it’s ingrained.”

“Please don’t do this.”

“Most of the time it’s your humanity which holds back the blood-frenzy.” Y/n was standing now pressing her hands against the invisible wall. “So, I have this theory. I’ll tell it to you and you give me your insiders take, being a vampire and all. I think that if I can force you to flip your switch, to turn your humanity off, then the ripper part of you may just follow. Thoughts?” Y/n stayed silent.

“Oh, you’re quiet now? That’s okay, I didn’t really care for what you had to say. Either way, I’m going through with it.” There was a question on y/n’s tongue but she was afraid that if she asked, she would get an answer. As if reading her mind the woman smiled coyly.

“Turn around.” Slowly, y/n pivoted and there at the other end of the room was two more stone slabs raised of the ground in one was encased Klaus who was stalking back and forth in the small space, the other contained a woman y/n had not seen before. Bound to a chair with shoulder length blonde hair and a strong jaw - she was petrified.

“They can’t see you.” The woman stalked around y/n, “But he can see her.” The woman was speaking the truth, Klaus was glaring at the blonde with a furious protectiveness. “I didn’t expect you to show up with Klaus Mikaelson but in a way, you’ve helped me. I was expecting you were just going to have to take my word but now, you can see it for yourself.

“As you can see Camille is important to Klaus. But humans and so...fragile. It’s scary isn’t it, how easy it is for them to get into an accident.”

“No need for the theatrics,” Y/n growled, “I can see where you’re going with this.”

“Oh, but I’m sort of having fun.” The nameless woman smiled.

“It’s not too late to change your plan,” Y/n began grimacing as she looked at the woman, “You have no idea what kind of forces you’re playing with.”

“What? Are you afraid to die?”

“It’s not my death I’m worried about!” Y/n was furious.

“Oh don’t act like you’ve suddenly learnt how to feel! I know vampires! You feel nothing! All you bring is chaos and pain!”

“It doesn’t have to be like this.” Y/n said again, her voice quiet, “Look, you’ve proved yourself. We’re standing here on the cusp of a tragedy about to unfold and there’s nothing I or anyone can do to stop you - you’ve proven yourself.” She repeated, “But you don’t have to go through with it. We can stop here. I can convince the Mikaelsons to move away.”

“Oh, please-”

“I beg you! I’m not asking for selfish reasons, I’ve lived my life I don’t care if I die. But I already have too much innocent blood on my hands. You just don’t understand that part of me, god, I don’t even understand it! Don’t do this to yourself.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Her face was stony, “I can’t back out now, weren’t you listening. The Mikaelsons can’t know I had anything to do with this, or I have a new war on my hands. No. This is all on you.” She was walking towards Camille. “Now you better flip that little switch of yours or I will kill her. And don’t think I won’t go through with it. If she isn’t important enough to you I’ll go find one of your friends from Mystic Falls.”

Y/n glared at the woman through shaky, blurry eyes. Her gaze flitting to Klaus who was still stalking in his box, eyes completely focused on Camille with the same protectiveness and love he often looked at her with.

She knew she had to take the risk. Turning off her humanity didn’t necessarily mean her ripper side would follow. Besides, she loved Elijah. He could bring her back, she knew it.

“Oh please forgive me.” Y/n muttered under her breath, letting her lashes flutter closed, “Elijah. Bring me back.” Was the last thing she said before delving to the back of her mind and turning it all off.

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kitkats-mikrokosmos · 3 years

Text

you who led me through that maze, you are my light - chapter 1: such stuff as dreams are made

crossposted on ao3

genre: fluff, slowish burn, romance pairing: ot7 x reader summary: ❝ this rain, too, is coming to an end i won’t let go of your hand anymore i wish that you would love me ❞

(or the one in which bighit holds a raffle for army to spend 4 months with bts in a remote lakehouse, and you win)

word count: 1390 warnings: cursing

see author notes at the end

Words could not begin to describe the cocktail of emotions that shot straight through your veins as you stared down at your phone.

"Dear (L/N) (F/N), Congratulations! You've won the raffle! Please contact us by January 31st, 2021 to claim your prize. We look forward to hearing from you. -BigHit Entertainment"

This had to be a joke, right? There was no way that this was real. Spam or a cruel joke from your family or maybe this was a dream.

You reached over and pinched your forearm. Hard.

The only thing that resulted was an explosion of stinging pain across your nerves and involuntary tears springing to your eyes.

So this wasn't a dream. But that still left spam or a joke.

It was totally in character for either of your brothers to pull something like this. But you didn't know if they knew how to spoof an email address, and, as you peered at the screen, you realized that address looked very official.

Quickly, you opened an incognito browser and did a Google search for BigHit's email address (addresses?). There was no guarantee of credibility, but still, it was better than operating under the assumption of goodwill. That was the sort of thing that got you hacked and all of your data sold on the dark web, and that was something you'd rather avoid. Once you'd found emails that looked like they might be correct, you opened the email again to compare them. The result had your heart hammering in your chest and your pulse fluttering in your throat like hummingbird wings.

They were almost identical.

This was probably the real deal.

You leaned back in your chair, a bark of disbelieving laughter leaving your lips.

Well shit.

You had some plans to make, you guess.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Dear (L/N) (F/N), We discussed what you mentioned in your last email, and, in the effort of making you more comfortable, we thought that we might send the boys out one at a time to join you in the as-of-yet undisclosed location. You would have a week to get to know each other individually before another member would join you both. Is this sufficient? -BigHit Entertainment"

"Dear BigHit Entertainment, That sounds great! Thank you so much for being so understanding. I really appreciate it. -(F/N) (L/N)"

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Your plane will leave tomorrow at 6:00 AM. Sorry, but that ended up being the most convenient time."

"It's fine, I understand," you said, smiling even though you wanted to cry at the thought of waking up at 4 in the morning so that you could make the plane ride. You'd have to make an emergency order from Target for a couple of those Starbucks frappucinos. You absently scrawled a reminder to yourself down onto a sticky note that you stuck to your corkboard, phone balanced between your shoulder and your ear.

Oh, how you missed the days when you could just drive to the store down the road and pick up whatever junk food you happened to be craving at the moment.

Still, life goes on.

"All precautions will be taken, of course. Still, when you arrive in Seoul, you'll be required to quarantine for two weeks. I know you've already been informed, but I just wanted to double-check one more time: you are okay with this, correct?"

"Yes. Yes, I am."

You'd expected it, in fact. They couldn't have known for certain that the ARMY that won the raffle would be from Korea, and there were all sorts of travel restrictions, worsened by winter - that they could fly you in at all was nothing short of a miracle. Quarantine seemed obvious.

You'd rather not spend time holed up in some hotel or someplace for fourteen days, waiting to see if you'll start displaying symptoms, but you'd also rather not get other people sick by accident - especially not the boys. The only way those two things could coincide was if the pandemic was over, and, unfortunately, things weren't there yet. You were still praying for a vaccine, but in the meantime.

"All right, I believe that's everything. We look forward to meeting you, (L/N)-ssi."

"I look forward to meeting you, too. Thank you. I really appreciate this opportunity."

It sounded like the person on the other end was smiling when they replied, "Of course. Have a good day."

"You, too."

"Bye."

You hung up and turned in your chair. Your suitcases were packed and waiting by the front door, and butterflies swooped in your stomach. In less than 24 hours, you'd be hopping on a plane to Korea, and in a little more than 2 weeks, you'd be meeting BTS.

Already, you were nervous. You couldn't imagine how much of a wreck you'd become as the day approached. Still, that was something for future-you to deal with. Present-you had enough on your plate.

First order of business: ordering coffee.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You blinked blearily up at the airport.

Where to now? you wondered as you stepped through the automatic doors. Multiple signs blinked at you to please wear a mask, and you adjusted yours a little, fixing it on the bridge of your nose. You glanced around. There weren't any obvious directions or anything.

"Uh, are you (Y/N) (L/N)?" an unfamiliar voice spoke.

You turned.

A woman in a pressed blue uniform and a matching mask stood there. She stopped the mandatory six feet away, and, judging from the crinkles of her eyes, she was smiling at you.

"That's me," you said, reshouldering your carry-on bag.

"Excellent!" she chirped, in true customer service fashion.

You felt bad for her, having to be this upbeat at ass o'clock in the morning. Maybe she could recommend you her coffee brand. Or maybe she was just fueled by spite like you'd been when you worked at the coffee shop downtown. Opening was always a fucking nightmare.

"Please follow me." She gestured onwards, then began walking.

You trailed behind.

"I'll take you to security," she continued as she walked, her heels clicking against the linoleum. "You'll be flying on a private plane today. Whoever's flying you out must really want to be sure you're safe." She paused. "And have a lot of money." She gave a tottering laugh.

You probably would've found the joke funnier if you were actually awake, but alas. You'd had two of your three coffees already, but there was only so much caffeine could do when it was up against the existential nightmare of an early morning.

Luckily, she didn't seem particularly daunted by her less-than-enthusiastic audience. Instead, she kept chattering on - about what, you weren't sure; you were having an incredibly hard time focusing your foggy brain to focus on anything for longer than 0.2 seconds.

You were flying to Korea. Jesus Christ. The reality was finally sinking in - as much as it could, given your current state. What country had you saved in a past life to be this lucky?

You likewise went through security in a daze, still reeling. You were only slightly more coherent when you were boarding the plane.

The flight attendant gave you a sympathetic smile and advised that you try to get some sleep - it was going to be a long flight.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

14 hours later, give or take, the plane had touched down in Seoul. You disembarked and were immediately swept away, rushed through customs before being deposited into the care of BigHit employees. One notable employee being Kim Hyun-Woo, whom had been the one you communicated with primarily as this whole thing was being set up.

He greeted you with a wide grin. "It's so great to finally be able to meet you in person, (L/N)-ssi."

You tried to return his smile as best you could. "You as well." You yawned. "Sorry, that was a really long flight."

"I understand." He nodded and gestured to the car. "If you'll climb inside, we'll take you to the hotel you'll be staying at for the duration of your quarantine."

You did so, and you were soon on your way.

You watched Seoul's cityscape slide by, the brilliant lights offset by the dark of the night, and you wondered why it was that you felt like your life was about to change. Forever.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Short first chapter I know, but the next chapter will be longer - and juicier. You’ll be joined by the first member next chapter, so be sure to vote to decide who that’ll be.

#bts x reader #kim namjoon x reader #kim seokjin x reader #min yoongi x reader #jung hoseok x reader #park jimin x reader #kim taehyung x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #interactive fanfiction

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my-own-oracle · 4 years

Text

MTMTE Swerve- “I’ve Missed You”

this was a request for mtmte Swerve with 38 ("I've missed you")

Heads up, Reader is enlarged in this one to be a little smaller than a mini bot cybertronian.

When you had signed up to go on this space expedition, you hadn’t thought about the inevitable experience of falling ill on the ship. But now, as your head was heavy and foggy with your stomach doing flips, you could honestly say you should have prepared more for this.

Ultra Magnus had heard of you being ill and swiftly quarantined you in your quarters. He refused to have any of the other human crew members contract the virus. But this also meant you had limited cybertronian as well as human visitors. You could name on one cold sweaty hand the people you were allowed to see, and none of them where your close companions.

‘Doc’ Bastile had come in with Ratchet, both standing off to the side, monitoring the progress of your body battling the virus. You heard your human doctor explaining the more severe parts of the virus and emphasize the need to administer vaccines to the rest of the human crew. You heard something about your body doing better and took it as a good sign.

“So, if I can’t see my human friends, does this mean my cybertronian buds can come 'n see me?” You coughed as the sentence rasped out.

“No, ” the Doc gave you her sad yet firm eyes. “Ultra Magnus won’t budge on the subject, and frankly, neither will I.” She motioned for Ratchet to look at something on a datapad. “I don’t want this spreading to the rest of the crew, besides we believe it can spread on the surface of the bots’ armor.”

You let out a huff. It’s not like you wanted to cuddle or anything, just a friendly conversation with someone besides the doctors would be nice.

“Why in primus’ name would you want to talk to someone anyway. According to everything I’ve learned, you need to rest.” The chef medical bot grumbled as you turned over onto your side.

“I’ve been sleeping and resting for days!”

“Then, you should only have a few more days until you are healed.” You glared at the pair. Hoping your eyes could burn in their backs and thaw, there obviously frozen heart and spark, respectively.

At some point during your glaring you must have fallen asleep, you awoke later to and empty hab-unit and not so soft voices talking outside your door. You opened your eyes only for a rag to block your vision. Your lead like arm refusing to come up and remove the offending object.

“If she’s asleep, let her sleep, and don’t touch her.”

“Ok, I-” you recognized the first voice as the 'Doc’ But the second was cut too short for your fogged brain to remember it.

“And as soon as you leave, walk straight to the med bay for a decontamination shower. Don’t stop or go anywhere else.” And there was Ratchet.

“Ratchet I-” was it Tailgate… no, Cyclonus had gotten grossed out by you earlier when learned about the 'human illness.’ There’s no way he let Tailgate visit you.

“Oh, and don’t let her get out of bed.”

“Yes, Doctor Bastile.”

You heard the door open, and the sounds of metal footsteps enter your room. Peeling the cold, wet rag away from your face, you looked to see who your visited was.

There, smiling as wide as his dermas would allow, was Swerve. He walked over to your bedside, sitting on the stool Doc had put near the foot of your bed.

“Hey, short stuff.” You coughed, hacking up some of the mucus from your throat. Swerve grimaced before continuing, “Gross.”

“Yeah, I know. How’s it going swigging swerve?” Swerve laughed at your attempt to tease, but it felt forced. “What’s up?”

His servo came down on the lower part of your calf. Slowly rubbing up and down on a small area. “Not much. The bar’s been busy, but it’s been tough without my best waitress."

"You were fine before I showed up, ten still helps more than I do anyway.” Your gravelly voice faded in and out as you spoke.

“Yeah but, I’ve missed you” his smile fell slightly. “You just vanished, and no one knew what happened. Then we were told you where sick and that it was serious, but Ratchet said he and 'Doc’ had to keep you quarantined for the safety of the other humans. I kept asking if I could come to see you, but nothing I said seemed to change their minds for what felt like the longest time-”

You hadn’t realized just how much you had missed swerve’s long-winded talks about nothing and everything at the same time.

The Mech had talent. His voice is just animated enough that his words where engaging but mellow enough that your foggy brain could turn it into soothing white noise.

“I missed you too, big guy.” You reached out with one of your heavy hands, trying to touch the servo, still rubbing your leg. Instead of reaching the rest of the way, Swerve froze. The gentle but firm grip of his digits on your leg reminding you of what you heard through the door.

“You’re not supported to touch me-” It wasn’t a question. Your hand fell back to the bed, your spirit falling with it.

“No, I’m probably pushing my luck by touching the blankets.” With a squeeze, his servo was retracted. “But I’ll make you a deal,” he stepped closer to you, his frame letting out a bit of a nervous shutter. “You get well, and I’ll hold your servo-ah hand, as much as you want.” You smiled, nodding as you nestled back into your blankets.

“Then I guess I better sleep some more, ” You re-draped the washcloth over your eyes. “I’ll see you soon, Swerve.”

“Be seeing you get better soon."

"I will."

Thanks for reading, feedback is welcome!

#mtmte swerve #swerve x reader #transformers #tf mtmte #request #re-upload

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ecoamerica · 25 days

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youtube

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

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six-of-ravens · 3 years

Text

Anyway, vaccine update: no symptoms except for the tiniest bit of muscle pain when I move my arm (about the same as a flu shot) and maybe a tiny bit of body aches but that might just be from slumping in my work chair. Also I'm a little brain foggy and tired but that could have to do with the menial, repetitive task I was doing all morning and waking up an hour and a half earlier than usual.

Took an Advil before I got the vaccine bc I was anticipating arm pain and my usual springtime The Weather Won't Make Up Its Mind headache. However, by now it's definitely worn off and I still feel fine.

I've heard Day Two is worse, but so far, so good.

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inviral-a · 3 years

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So, I suddenly got remined of this great big deleted post from my old blog I made about the G-virus & my thoughts & stuff on it & like lemme go over some stuff real quick : My original post talked about my thoughts on it from like the old days up till now & how like its always kinda confused me surely because I am extremely stupid & have a foggy brain but like I always feel like I miss something in dealing with the G-virus. Ok so. The G-vrius had unrivalled capabilities as B.O.W at the time of its creation due to its ability to continuously mutate, which came with it having extreme regenerative properties & even gave it the ability to reanimate the dead which is good as a weapon & all, sure, but I think its true purpose & the purpose it seemed that William was focusing on was its capabilities in being an eugenics thing. In fact I BELIEVE it was pitched this way by William directly & Spencer took such an interest that he had the whole NEST created. I think, if I remember right, Wesker notes in his journal how this felt unusual as most of Umbrella’s focus had seemingly been on B.O.Ws prior. The G-virus was found living inside Lisa Trevor, it was the thing that had kept her alive & pretty much protected her from all further/outside infection of other viruses / parasites demonstrated when it simply absorbed/destroyed the nemesis's parasite she was injected with. It was stable inside her body & as such she had a practically impervious immune system & regenerative capabilities that were beyond extensive & yet she never mutated into anything more horrific than what she already was due to the T-virus.

So turning into big ugly gross monsters is not really ideal in the eugenic territory but impervious immune system & highly accelerated/advanced healing properties are which leads me to think there was more to the G-virus than what we saw. Which means probably the most valuable & key part of the G-virus was its remarkable antibodies (?) & this was probably the part of the project Annette & William were really interested in & working on & developing.

This makes me think about Sherry & Wesker in particular. Back in the old days, prior to the whole “Wesker virus” becoming a thing I always wondered if some “perfected” version of the G-virus, possibly some version of the G-virus that was fused with the DEVIL vaccine to create a more ‘perfect’ form - something that utilizes G’s incredible antibodies but keeps the parasitic nature of G naturalised & thus safeguards from the rampant mutations - was what Wesker injected himself with, particularly as we knew of his close relationship with William. Wesker seemed to exhibit pretty much all the desired properties of a real “g-human” & his eyes in particular were very matched to the ‘eyes’ of the G-virus. Which always made much more sense to me then this random ass “wesker-virus”. I mean idk if the Wesker Virus always existed what fuck would Spencer have to give about something like the G-virus if he already had a virus that could essentially transform someone into a super-human ? I suppose because the Wesker Virus was suppose to be hyper-crazy selective where as if the G-virus was applied right it could generally benefit the entire human race, not just select individuals ? Although that very selective virus is exactly what Spencer’s crazy racist ass wanted.

Anyway, moving to Sherry, she managed to get all the “”intended”” benefits of the G-virus through her infection & vaccination so yeah I wonder if G was always suppose to be used in conduction with DEVIL in order to unlock those desirable effects ? This seems to be a much quicker/efficient way to “stabilise” a virus than say Alexia’s method of cyro-sleep. ( Although Alexia’s method makes perfect sense for her, someone who was only interested in ‘improving’ herself & not the “human race” as a whole ) Or if there was a more. . . “Complete” version of the virus that just didn’t happen to be the version William injected himself with. Or ultimately if the G virus was ever “complete” in the first place. Thinking that what we saw in the game didn’t at all appear to be the “intended product” in any way. I DO believe a lot of the extreme negative effects G had on William were due to him infecting himself with it while he was moments away from death & so horribly wounded. Sherry’s manner of infection was different so I wonder if that could have also played a part in why William mutated so fast & so terribly while Sherry didn’t really mutate at all, or at least didn’t get the chance to . . . & how exactly would Sherry have mutated if she didn’t receive the vaccine ? Would she have became something similar to William ? If William wasn’t fatally wounded & so close to dying, what would G have done if he infected himself with it ? Is it possible that G went the way it did because it both never got the chance to “stabilize” in William’s body, given he was so horribly damaged when he infected himself, forcing it to work overtime to repair him but also that it never got the chance to stop “repairing” him, hence causing his intense mutations because of his repeated conflicts with Claire/Leon & the damage he continually sustained.

The eugenic properties of the G-virus don’t ever seem to be focused on again. Its capabilities as a weapon are but never as the ‘cure’ per say, it seemed to be envisioned to be by William & Annette. However when Umbrella European branch messed around with the G-virus they managed to find a way to merge it with a version of t-virus, thus bringing forward all of G’s more desirable effects while dulling/neutralising the undesirable ones. This was called the T-G virus & when Morpheus infected herself with it, while certainly mutating into something inhuman, this wasn’t near to the extent of William & she managed to completely retain her intelligence.

Given William was a near unrivalled genius in his field it seems strange to me that he wouldn’t have been able to produce a version of the G-virus like this himself ? So maybe the G-virus wasn’t actually “complete” & William intended to continue work on it & complete it in a more ‘conventional setting’, where his true vision for it would be appreciated more as oppose to Umbrella’s intense focus on weaponizing their “products” ?

#⊰ ° ⊚ ● 𝄪 ° ━◞ OUT OF CHARACTER ⊱#⊰ ° ⊚ ● 𝄪 ° ━◞ HEADCANONS ⊱#kinda #more like... thought canons lol #ps Morpheus is clearly a trans woman to me so I will be using she/her pronouns when speaking about her #the g virus is v interesting but v confusing to me bc it is so contradictory ????#long post

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purrincesscatitude · 4 years

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a Thought: the weird nonsensical things ronan brings back from fever dreams. Idk i’m tipsy and wanted to share my thought also I adore your fics.

Anon, that is a good thought. Ronan pulls weird things from his head all the time, so you would think that when he’s feverish it would just be...more. Stranger, darker, more unsteady. Feverish nightmares brought to life. He rips monsters from his head when both his body and mind are perfectly healthy, so when he’s too exhausted to control it, one would think it’d make it all worst.

But it’s not. He brings stuff back, sure. Not every time; exhausted and ill as he is, sometimes he doesn't sleep for long enough, or heavily enough, to be able to dream. But nightwash doesn’t give a single goddamn fuck if he’s the pinnacle of health or preparing his deathbed of tissues and cough syrup, so he must keep creating. Oddly enough, though, his mind seems less dangerous when it’s burning.

“It’s like, it’s all blurry,” Ronan tries to explain—sick with a virus that isn’t the flu but still fucking terrible—when he’s been woken from fitful sleep by a long coughing fit. “Like they’re all sick, too. Or don’t want to come into my head when it’s so fucking hot and all staticky.”

Adam could imagine it. Lindenmere behind a screen of television noise, the channel disrupted and flickering with white snow.

“Let’s hope they keep staying away, then” Adam says softly, rubbing a hand through Ronan’s buzzcut before placing a cool cloth across his forehead.

This virus is no joke. TKO’d in just over a day: congestion, sore throat, aches, pains, fever, the whole nine damn yards. Ronan’s been laid up in bed for two days, now. His fever is a persistent bastard, cooling off with meds but stubbornly warming back up at the end of 4 to 6 hours.

Adam sits next to him in bed, thumbing through a worn and scribbled in copy of Ulysses he found on the bookshelf in the study. He’s waiting. Ronan will need more tea, more soup, another dose of medicine soon. Ronan, however, is asleep. He’s been asleep for over two hours, now. Which means...

Ronan freezes beside him. He's not mid-thrash or halfway to sitting up—which Adam is thankful for, because that’s always a bit too Linda Blair for his tastes; he hardly changes at all, easily mistaken for sleeping. But Adam has seen it enough to know.

The ley line energy first sags, then spikes, then returns to its steady thrum. Reality bends over backwards and twists inside out as the empty bed is suddenly filled.

An apple, rust colored and without any shine, that floats an inch off the bed. It bobs and bumbles as if drunk, and squishes like it’s rotten when touched.

A shoe like Adam’s red converse, desaturated and fuzzy along its edges. Its tongue lolls; its mouth hangs wide. It drips but doesn't leave any residue behind.

A half-formed ball of sickly green yarn, threads gummy and floppy like cooked spaghetti. It unravels slow as molasses without anyone touching it.

A croaking gramophone, edges all round and wood warping as if damp. Old music warbles in slow-motion. Matte black music notes tumble from the tarnish horn, drop on the floor, and disappear.

Everything is dulled and foggy, oozing and melting like a Dali painting brought to life. It fills the bedroom with a strange heat that’s both too warm and not nearly warm enough. It makes Adam’s skin break into goosebumps, sends shivers down his spine, beads sweat along his hairline if he’s near them for too long.

Ronan groans softly and turns onto his side with a grimace and a half-hearted cough. Certain now that the manifestation is done, Adam gathers the dreams in his arms. Aches sink deep into his bones. His vision goes hazy at the edges. He’s wondered, over the past day or two, if the dream objects carry the same contagion as Ronan. Not that it would make a difference; Adam thinks it would take a miracle at this point to keep him healthy after all the time he’s spent within three feet of Ronan’s painful, rasping coughs. It’s more a passing curiosity. What might he find if he brought a sample to a lab? What would happen if he dumped the apple in a vat of Lysol, or injected a vaccine beneath the winkled skin?

He carries it all downstairs. Music notes fall onto his arm and dissolve, leaving a patch of fever-hot skin behind. Out back, next to the kitchen door, Adam pulls the bungee cords off a metal trash can, releasing the lid and dumping the armful; his brain clears, his sinuses stop burning, the aches leave his muscles. He feels perfectly normal. Tired, but normal.

The can is already half-full of other mushy, floppy dreams. The gramophone brings the pile almost to the top. He’ll take it to the long barn and dump the dreams once he gets Ronan settled. He puts the lid back on top and secures it with the cords. So far, nothing has been dangerous or desperate to escape. But one can never be too careful.

Adam brushes off his hands and shakes off the shadow of the fever from his limbs. He puts the kettle on in the kitchen, heats up a can of soup on the stove while it boils, and pours Ronan tea with honey once it whistles. He can hear Ronan shuffling around upstairs, feet dragging him from bed to the bathroom and back across the creaky wooden floors.

“Hey,” Adam says, soup in one hand and mug in the other as he pushes open the door with his hip. Ronan grunts, or moans—he’s burrowed under blankets and has shoved his face into a wall of pillows, making it difficult to define what noises he’s making. Adam puts the mug and bowl on the bedside table, and presses his palm to Ronan’s forehead. It’s warm again. Ronan nuzzles against it with a hoarse whimper.

“You can take more Dayquil,” Adam says gently, “but you need to eat first.”

Ronan groans, and it’s clearly in protest.

“Don’t give me that shit, asshole.”

Ronan harumphs, but slowly pushes himself into a seated position. He squints at the bed, looking around like he’s lost something. “The dreams?” he rasps.

“Taken care of.” Ronan doesn’t ask anything more. He eats his soup, takes his meds, and sips tea while watching some daytime court drama Adam pulled up on his laptop.

Adam kisses his forehead and tells him he’ll be right back.

He drags the trash can to the long barn. He dumps the sickly dream objects in a pile with the others. The empty can goes back to its place right outside the door.

Ronan is almost asleep again when Adam gets back. Adam moves the laptop and the dishes, stays on top of the covers while Ronan nestles deeper within them. He curls against Adam’s side with a contented little noise that makes Adam’s heart skip a few beats. Adam rubs Ronan’s scalp. Still warm, but cooling once again.

Adam picks up the book once he knows Ronan’s asleep. Finds the dogeared page, and begins to read once more. He’ll have to put the kettle on soon. But it can wait.

#ask #anon #trc #cdth #headcanons #this has been sitting in my inbox for like 3 months and I thought about it EVERY DAY #pynch #ronan lynch #adam parrish #the raven cycle fanfic #trc fanfiction #cdth fanfiction #pynch fic

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