#or more like brain vomit theories between the facts | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

suns-blood · 3 months

Text

Hey. Hey, do you want to hear about hair, cars and twenty one pilots? Great, then click keep reading you won't be disappointed I prommy

(This is a brain vomit of theories / analyses i have bouncing around in my brain like the DVD logo)

Zoroastrianism

This religion I've seen mentioned only like twice in the clique which is just such a shame bc I love the ties it has with vialism.

Anyway the basic rundown is that Zoroastrianism is a religion that originated from 4000 years ago. It was practiced in the middle east by persians. It is one of the oldest (if not the oldest) monotheistic religions and one of the core beliefs is related to the duality of good and evil*, which has been prevalent in tøp's music since fucking self titled. I am not saying zoroastrianism has influenced Tyler since fucking high school??? However I think this is another case of them utilising irl concepts that have similarities with their lore (the other case being nicolas bourbaki). The duality of good and evil is a popular concept, so this is most likely a coincidence. However what is not a coincidence are the towers of silence.

*(It has a dualistic cosmology of good and evil within the framework of a monotheistic-style ontology; meaning that the religion's eschatology predicts the ultimate triumph of good over evil.) -Wikipedia. Yes I'm using Wikipedia as a source, I'm not doing anything scientific, it's fine.

The towers of silence

...Also known as Dakhma. And what is the city in Trench called? That's right. Dema. This whole time I thought dema was based on the word "demon" which fits the narrative as well, however the parallels between vialism and zoroastrianism are unmistakable.

Below are excerpts from the "rationale" section from the corresponding Wikipedia article bc i don't see a point in rewording it.

"Zoroastrian tradition considers human cadavers and animal corpses (in addition to cut hair and nail parings) to be nasu, i.e. unclean, polluting.[1][2][3] Specifically, Nasu the corpse demon (daeva), is believed to rush into the body and contaminate everything it comes into contact with.[3][11]

To preclude the pollution of the sacred elements: earth (zām), water (āpas), and fire (ātar), the bodies of the dead are placed at the top of towers and there exposed to the sun and to scavenging birds and necrophagous animals such as wild dogs.[1][2][3] "

That, I believe, is the function for the towers in Dema as well. The bishops dispose of bodies they've used that way (through seizing, which is marked by yellow eyes. that way we know that the show hosts in good day dema were actually bishops and that the bishops sometimes take control of dead vultures)

Admittedly this connection was made by Dema in yt so go check them. They great lore/recap videos. Specifically the video on vultures.

However unlike zoroastrians, the vialists do mark their graves. More specifically with neon gravestones and they don't consider elements like fire to be holy. Neon lights are a great contrast to the bandito's love of fire. I believe we don't have the bishops' opinion on fire, but it is heavily associated with banditos so i doubt they'd consider it holy.

What is more interesting to me is the sentence about cut hair being consistent impure.

The hair

So considering the similarities between the role of vultures, the towers and everything else, we can assume that shaving your head is an act of rebellion from the rule of vialism. That theory is supported by the aforementioned belief in zoroastrianism and the fact that in "levitate" it is the banditos who shave tyler's/clancy's head.

That theme is, imo, also reflected in the music video for car radio, which is pre-lore, however most themes in the lore have been there since self titled. (For another example, cars. We will get to that.).

In that video it is tyler who shaves his own head and if my theory is correct then it symbolises him ridding himself of his negative thoughts (that will later become to be symbolised by blurryface who will later become his own character)(I told you the themes in the lore were not new)

In the music video for "levitate" the banditos shave Tyler's/Clancy's head. This is a clear parallel to his community/friends/etc helping him get rid of his negative thoughts.

The other explanation for the importance of those moments would be that cutting/shaving your head is also often done when someone is going through a change/wants to change their life.

I also heard it in a another post that Tyler has once again shaved his head. This aligns with my theory that Clancy is returning to Dema, but not of deceit or desperation, but intentionally, though i think we can all agree that this is pretty much canon. The other thing to note here is that all of the red we've been seeing has been a lot more orange (in general) than the red from the blurryface era (in general) and i believe that to be bc of this era's proximity to fire. Fire symbolises life, how real and unpredictable it can be, which is juxtaposed to neon lights, as mentioned.

Nicolas Bourbaki

Staying on the topic of dema/the bishops, i wanted to mention nicolas bourbaki. I have no big revelations regarding this one, though i assume i have missed some larger meaning as to why they added so many references to them.

So, Nicolas Bourbaki is the name of a group of french mathematicians active in the 1930s. Their purpose was to write and publish textbooks and the name they published from under was Nicoals Bourbaki. To my understanding it wasn't known that Bourbaki consisted of multiple people. Many so-to-speak faceless entities working as one, under one goal is how you could also describe the bishops, however i assume the fact that there were 9 of them is not hidden.

One of the fields they studied was, get it, topology. In university of waterloo's words (bc i am wayyy to stupid to fully understand it):

"Topology studies properties of spaces that are invariant under any continuous deformation. It is sometimes called "rubber-sheet geometry" because the objects can be stretched and contracted like rubber, but cannot be broken. For example, a square can be deformed into a circle without breaking it, but a figure 8 cannot. Hence a square is topologically equivalent to a circle, but different from a figure 8."

I believe topology is the inspiration for morph. That is also the song where they namedrop Bourbaki so the connections are pretty obvious. I won't do a whole ass analysis of the song rn, i'll do that when i vivisect the entire album like i did with self titled (the document ended up being like 17 pages long).

Anyway the general idea of morph is that becoming someone else is a defense mechanism. It is a way to avoid(?) the bishops because in that song he admits he cannot avoid the bishops' (his fears) and that he will be someone else in the meanwhile, perhaps someone better.

That ties into very nicely of my own personal theory regarding whether Tyler is Clancy or not. I believe that Tyler is Clancy the same way that Tyler is blurryface. Those are his best/worst sides separated from Tyler and turned into their own characters. So in that way Tyler is Clancy but Clancy and Tyler are not the same person, so Clancy is not Tyler in his entirety and the same goes for blurryface. Basically none of us are our worst/best qualities alone, and you cannot compare someone to the distilled good/bad versions of them.

I've also seen people on reddit theorize that Tyler is becoming Clancy, that Clancy was another person that lost to the bishops and Tyler is simply taking over his role as the leader of the Banditos and I really like that theory. It works so well with Tyler and Clancy still being sort of different people but in a way that the I am Clancy video still makes sense.

(Btw for the life of me i cannot figure out where i read it but i remembering seeing somewhere that the bourbaki group were the ones that started using the ø use which is a nice detail)

Car symbolism

This will be a condensed version of 17 page long self titled analysis (which i might clean up and release someday idk)

I just need to talk about cars bc they're still prevalent.

Cars, as a whole, are metaphors for our lives. There are many many lyrics that support this idea in St specifically but also quite likely in other albums however I've yet to look through those. I think cars are a another metaphor that have just stuck around and are still not a proof that Tyler has been loring since 2009.

In a car, a torch, a death we have the lines "I begin to envy the headlights driving south". He is jealous of people who get to direct their lives towards positivity. It's been a while since my analysis of this album so forgive my memory, but I do believe south has the same connotations as light/mornings/sun. I won't do a line by line but this song is about protecting someone from depression and because of that devotion Tyler doesn't get to go where everyone else goes. That is the main song where the car metaphors stem from I think, however another one is the heavydirtysoul music video.

Now that we've established that cars are people's lives it is obvious that in that mv it is not tyler who is in control of his life (car), it is depression (nico). The video ends with the car on fire. It would be reasonable to assume that his life is a wreck, a dumpster fire but to that I say no. That is a good thing. Because after all, did we not establish fire to be good? To symbolise escape from dema? His life being engulfed in flames means that he is alive, he's actively interacting with the world around him because fire is active and neon lights are passive. As are cars simply driving by. That, I believe, is also the symbolism of burning cars during trench era live shows.

Another thing. Look at the jumpsuit mv. It begins with tyler jumping on the burnt car and saying "we've been here the whole time. You we're asleep, time to wake up." And the car bursting into flames. The car got engulfed by flames and however destructive they may be, they are active. The car literally woke up. Then the entire music video happens and at the end we get a continuation of the scene at the beginning because the pilots love cycles/circular narratives nearly as much as I do. At the end tyler opens the trunk and grabs the bandito jacket. He had to return to his old life, the one that was controlled by the bishops, to find the necessary equipment to go forward.

Anyway thank you all for coming to my NEDtalk, I just needed to get these out of my head and I don't rlly see anyone else talking about these theories. If you have anything to correct me on, add on to, or just share your opinion on, I implore you to do so.

#tøp #tøp clique #the skeleron clique #twenty øne piløts #twenty one pilots #tøp7 #tøp lore #dema #twenty øne piløts lore #twenty one pilots lore #symbolism #zoroastrianism

2 notes · View notes

moontheoretist · 3 years

Text

My brain vomit about Genshin.

Sorry it’s not actually logically put together, but my brain was going off track too much to actually make it into something resembling anything logical.

I am so unobservant that I only today noticed this:

So, I knew since the beginning that Paimon was some kind of goddess, but I hated the idea she may turn out to be an Unknown God, because it would be too boring if you ask me. I also noticed that she was wearing a crown which has the similar design as the crowns related to withered threes. Those crowns are made from Irminsul, which is the name of the withered threes, and they are related to some mysterious place deep within the ground and also to the leylines itself.

(I dunno if those crowns here are actually Irminsul Crowns, because Piamon’s crown is different in design than those, but they resemble the crown from the logo. Like we could for example assume that those crowns seen in domains are just mere imitations of the original crown which I would assume Paimon wears).

Withered threes also are related to the leylines. The items you give them - the Resin and Condensed Resin are both related to leylines. They look as if they had a leaf of something frozen in them, maybe those are the leaves of those threes before they withered? And they supposedly revitalize leylines.

[If you know what leylines are from other sources you know how important that revitalization is for the world of Teyvat, because they ALWAYS work the same.]

Anyway, I wanted to talk about Paimon.

So, I considered for quite some time that she could be the Goddess of Time, considering the place she was found is actually pretty close to the Goddess of Time island, but I dunno if I am still on board with this idea. It mainly depends on two factors: if I consider all the gods in Genshin to have powers related to Celestia or only those who "ascended the thrones" and became the Seven and if only the Seven, then why the Goddess of Time would be an exception to the rule in that case? I could for example assume that Goddess of Time was one of the more superior gods than the rest of the gods of Teyvat, the direct relation to the Celestia itself, which would explain why she has triquetra on her island too.

Triquetra meaning: The cycles of life (life-death-rebirth) The promises of a husband to his wife (love-honour-protect) The family (father-mother-child) The passage of time (past-present-future)

As you can see both the Statues and Pillars have the same design, but only the statues have those blue thingies in them, the same ones which make the insides of the pillar which supposedly fell from Celestia and made Dragonspine the place we see it as of now today - frozen mountain.

Which funnily pillars from the login screen DON’T have, or at least it’s not visible.

The power of the Archon is the power of Celestia, because Statues of the Seven have the designs of Celestia all over them and because the Seven ascended the thrones of the divine to become who they are today (and funnily Venti hates even thinking about them, which will come back to later), so if Paimon bears the same symbols as Celestia, not only in the design of the decorations of her boots but also including triquetra (which has many meanings outside Genshin lore and could also mean thousand different things inside Genshin as well), then it means she is one of the beings of Celestia. The question is... what kind of being and why she is on Teyvat? Was she sent to keep an eye on the MC under the guise of being their guide, so MC wouldn't turn out like the Sibling, whose knowledge of the world of Teyvat barred them from leaving it, or she was kicked out for doing something against Celestia, and that's why she doesn't remember Celestia at all, but knows, so much about Teyvat instead?

I am a lore obsessed person at heart. I didn't though have the time or energy yet to read all the codexes from Genshin, so my knowledge is mostly second hand. But as the saying goes, Celestia sus. Something is wrong with Celestia. It’s tilted and weird and Venti hates thinking about it, and Venessa’s ascension looked as if she was going to court marshal or a trial instead of being recognised. And the fact that the places related to leylines are also related to Celestia somehow is important for reason yet unknown. And Paimon being with us can be either a coincidence or part of a bigger plan, though Paimon didn't show any indication that she actually has any mission. She never had any slips which Ai-chan from Honkai had, hinting something was wrong with Paimon. Paimon never forced MC to change their mind about something, so I am more prone to believe that Paimon isn't an agent of Celestia but is a being of Celestia of some kind and she is MC's guide just like supposedly Dain was to the Sibling at some point in time.

Also there is something utterly wrong with Domains. Where the fuck they even are? WHY there are tornados around electro domain?! Why all domains seem to be in a different plane of existence with all the bad stuff just outside?

(Those eyes which I dubbed Dread Wolf eyes, also look like the quanta symbol from Honkai, and the symbol on the cubes of the Unknown God's attack).

Those murals make me scream each time I see them, because THEY HOLD KNOWLEDGE TO SOMETHING! Are domains part of Abyss? THEY HAVE ABYSS SIGNS ALL OVER THE PLACE! But why they would still be important to the leylines, which revitalize the world? WHAT IS GOING ON GENSHIN!?

Edit: (praise the author of those videos, I officially love them)

I found a useful video, whose author’s train of thoughts overlaps with mine, and because they know a lot about Genshin I wanna link it here, so you could watch it, along with their video about domains.

youtube

Some of the questions I myself asked are actually answered here.

Edit 2:

The first 50 seconds of this video is literally what I do in domains. STARE AT THIS GODDAMNED MURAL, GODDAMMIT I HATE YOU!

youtube

Nice to know I am not alone in my musings. Please, go sub to Ashikai.

#genshin impact #genshin impact lore #genshin impact thoughts #genshin impact theory #or more like brain vomit theories between the facts

350 notes · View notes

wisehq · 3 years

Text

Mission Debrief: Chapter 43

...IT’S HAPPENING! IT’S HAPPENING! IT’S HAPPENING-!

Alright, before we get into it- full disclosure; the hivemind is in full swing at the Operation Strix discord server, so pretty much anything I write here is going to be an amalgamation of all the conspiracy theories and reactions we vomited out as soon as the chapter dropped. On that same note, I think writing these the day after will start to be the norm. Just so I have the chance to calm myself before going on a twenty-page tangent about everything Endo may or may not be planning.

Okay [deep breath] let’s get into it.

First, let’s start off with Franky, before we get into the juicy stuff.

When the chapter first started, I thought we were going to get backstory on Franky. Endo seemed to be alluding to this on his twitter page, and I was actually interested in possibly seeing more about his and Twilight’s relationship. Of course that didn’t end up happening; instead we got another side story about Franky trying to get some action by finding a lady’s lost cat, but seeing as how it’s Franky we’re talking about it seemed appropriate. Also, how can I be upset when-

The princess herself arrives! I gotta say, I loved the lightheartedness of most of this chapter. Yor’s always a delight, and pairing her together with Franky was a smart move on Endo’s part. They built off each other’s wackiness and I love this moment with the two of them. Just like with Twilight, we see that Franky genuinely wants to make the world a better place (and also get rich along the way) and Yor’s so impressed with him. I also liked that moment where Franky is surprised to find Yor still playing Loid’s wife even when he isn’t there- much like how he was with Anya while he was babysitting her. Just another little nod to the fact that he sees the Forger girls as being more than players in a game of elaborate house.

Then- just a quick thing before we get into what I know we all want to talk about- it’s interesting to me that Franky isn’t a one-man operation. He has a whole network of informants that he works with, and it makes sense that someone in his line of work has a many ears on the wall as possible. It’s a surefire way to stay plugged into the goings-on of the Ostanian underworld, unless of course...

...They get taken out by Garden.

AGHGHGHGHGH ALRIGHT, OK LET’S GO-

Garden. We finally have a name for Yor’s group now; we thought it was The Shop for the longest time, but apparently that’s only part of it. Yor alluded to this briefly back in ch. 29 when she described The Shop was being in charge of information gathering, and once their job was done it was Yor’s turn to come in and do the actual assassination. In this sense we see The Shop was being more of a support role in the same way that Franky is, though it’s still safe to assume the Shopkeeper is still in charge of both The Shop and Garden. At least for now- until we get more information to say otherwise, anyway.

Of course, the interesting thing is our silhouetted figures standing in this panel- not to mention the fact that Franky states that all the members are capable of taking on a whole troop of soldiers (for reference, a troop ranges between 9 and 100 men, though it usually hovers around 50). We know Yor is capable of doing this, but now that we also know the other assassins of Garden are as well, it begs the question; is Yor’s strength truly a unique thing in this world? And if it isn’t, what could be the source of it?

OSO-R, the drug used during the Tennis arc, was described as being in its trial stages. I originally chalked up it’s fast development time as just being part of manga logic, although I’m now starting to question that theory. It’s possible the roadmap for OSO-R has been around for much longer than first thought, and may find its traces back to when the war had just ended. Loid describes Garden as having been around for some time. We also know that Yor was just a child when she started up her assassination gig, so it’s possible that she and others like her may be have been exposed to a serum similar to OSO-R a decade or so before. Given Ostania’s track record of human experimentation, the scenario is possible.

Also going back to what Franky describes as “the shadow government”; it’s interesting that we’re hearing rumblings of a government operating outside the public’s view literally one chapter after we were just introduced to the concept of a royal class at some point in Ostania’s past. There’s a lot of things that cab be construed from this (such as Garden serving an authority that doesn’t necessarily align with Donovan and the government) but listing everything would just turn this review into one long-winded mess. So instead, we’re gonna entertain a fun theory- one that may or may not be true, but if it *does* end up being confirmed later on down that road, you heard it here first.

*ahem*

Mr. Green is a part of Garden.

Allow me to state my case.

When ch. 39 came out, I found it very unusual that a brand new character we haven’t seen before got a majority of the panel-time alongside Damian and the boys. It wasn’t very suspicious at the time, given that we’d just been introduced to Becky’s maid Martha, so we all just assumed Endo was building up his side characters a bit. For all intents and purposes, that may very well be the case.

However.

I know one person in particular who latched onto this panel right here, and for good reason; why would a security guard stationed at a school nowhere close to the border know about code words being used by people trying to cross over illegally? Yes, he was supposedly in the navy, but the way he phrases it here heavily implies that these code words are a recent affair, or at the very least are still being used currently. Why would he know that? Even if he was in the military, it’s information that has absolutely nothing to do with being in the navy.

Mr. Green is also very strong; strong enough to make the boys think they were going down rapids when in actuality it was just him rowing so fast. Now, I don’t know if you’ve ever paddled a boat before, but it’s hard work- and it’s certainly difficult to the get that boat going at cruising speed, let alone fast enough to cause rapids. Yor’s the only one we’ve seen with strength like that and- yes, Green was supposedly in the navy, but at this point in time we don’t know anything else about him. We don’t know what he did after the war, nor do we know how he wound up in Eden Academy in the first place.

This is where we start going deep down the rabbit hole. Hang on.

This gentleman who we’ve never seen before is clearly aware that Garden exists, or at the very least is privy to Yor’s actual job. Much like how WISE has plants within Loid’s hospital, this man likely works to support Yor in some way. If such is the case, we can likely assume that- because the shadow government is supporting Garden- they would have their assassins posted in key areas for various reasons, likely to keep an eye out for traitors or to keep them spread out to cover a wide area should the need ever arise to deploy them.

We’ve only ever see Yor target traitorous politicians and outright terrorists (I realize this one is just a daydream, but you get my point). It would make sense, seeing as how she works at city hall and it would likely put her in an advantageous position when hunting them down. Of course, politicians aren’t the only people who might catch Garden’s attention. Given the amount of political and economic unrest that is currently going on in the country, there likely would be some people who would be fed up with the state of things. Such people may not be like Franklin Perkin- someone who would take direct action against the government- but instead would rather try to steer others towards a mindset that stands in opposition to Ostania. Such a person may try to target more impressionable people- people who are likely to listen and learn from an authority figure in their lives. People like...small children.

Eden students.

Garden. Eden. I see what you’re doing there, Endo.

Traitorous professors? Renegade academics? It would make sense to have a Garden assassin stationed at the most prestigious school in the country; the amount of information and contacts that are positioned around there are second to none, and what better way to suppress insurrection than at the source, at the very foundations of knowledge itself? Also, for kicks and giggles, let’s not forget that the name Mr. Green certainly fits with the plant motif Endo is going for with his assassin group (Garden. Thorn Princess. Briar. You catch my drift?)

Am I grasping at straws? Probably lol. I’d also like to reiterate that this is in no way all my thinking- a lot of crazy people put their brains together for this one, good or bad. But hey, it’s about all we can do until the next chapter! And at the very least, it’s a lot of fun to wonder what-if!

Also, BONUS

...She’s coming.

#spy x family

138 notes · View notes

fandomscombine · 3 years

Text

No, Not Like This [Part 2]

George Weasley x Reader

BG: Rewatched the New Girl S2x15. You know the one with the ICONIC Nick and Jess 1st Kiss? Now make it the reader and Geroge!

a/n: This second part follows more on their realization of what tf just happened. As did in S2x16. (so they don’t have scenes together, just their brains going into overdrive thinking they screwed up. don’t worry I’ll bring them back in pt3 hehe but first here’s some chaotic fun!)

This part’s voices of reason are.... Cho and Fred!

WC:1330

Read PART 1

>>>MASTERLIST<<<

>>JOIN MY WRITING CHALLENGE!<<

George made his way back up to his dorm in a surprising cool calm manner. It was not until late the next morning did what he did sunk in.

What George had thought was a very nice, vivid dream- one he wish he would have the courage to act upon in real life, had actually happened, he panicked. ‘OH MY GOD! OH MY-YOU KISSED HER! YOU IDIOT!’

Fred, who had just arrived in their shared dorm, toast in hand, laughed at his very dishevelled twin queries. ‘Kissed who?’

‘Y/N. I kissed Y/N’

‘ohhh…’ George’s forwardness made Fred drop his toast. ‘FINALLY!’ He exclaimed, scooting George over.

‘wait What?’

Fred places his palms under his chin. ‘Now tell me how this all went down. Y/n made the first move, didn’t she? Please tell me she did or else I owe Ginny 5 galleons.’

While George had a rather peaceful slumber, you on the other hand, did not.

Twisting and turning, mind still stuck on the same sentence. Ranging between the perplexity of ‘George Weasley kissed me?’ to the absolute euphoria of ‘GEROGE WEASLEY KISSED ME!’ .

You touch you lips, gently as if by the feeling of his lips on yours would be washed away if not treated with care.

‘I meant something like that. I didn’t wanna kiss you because of a game. I want to kiss you because you mean something to me’

His parting words echoed in your head.

You Mean Something to Me.

That means he likes you too right? He has to… the boy literally said it…well in the bare minimum implied it. Who in their right mind would deliver a world-shattering kiss to someone they do not fancy?

Though there is one slight detail that could offset this whole theory……

He walked away.

The boy kissed, professed his feelings then exited.

And people say that women are enigmas.

You sighed, you definitely need a fresh pair of eyes here.

The alarm clock on your bedside table flashes 6:39am.

‘Great…’ You muttered, the stupid kiss has kept you awake, overthinking for almost 4 hours.

Rolling over, you layered on a hoodie to your pyjamas. ‘Well, she would just have to deal with me this early.’

You silently make your way out, trying your best to not wake any of your roommates.

In your desperation, the fact that the Ravenclaw’s common room location albeit not a secret, it had completely flown pass your head that they had no password but rather a riddle.

‘Please, can I get an easier riddle’ you pleased to the eagle knocker.

‘Which came first, the phoenix, or the flame?’

You huffed, ofcourse it won’t go easy on you.

‘How would I know?!’ you scowled. The door not granting you entrance just further adds to tour irritable state. How many more things had to be confusing? First George and now this!

‘I wasn’t there! You didn’t even give me a time frame, you stupid door! Ouch!’ Recoiling back in pain, you were sent aback whether be it from kicking the door or it getting back at you for mocking it, you weren’t sure.

‘Give me the full picture. Like is the Phoenix dying? Then the phonics came first than came the flame. If not then it would be vice versa, only a pile of ashes is seen from which a phoenix would be born… or reborn.’

Gosh, were you thankful that it’s too early in the morning for someone to see you rant to a door.

‘You know what? Whatever!’ You sighed in defeat; you would just have to hide from George during breakfast.

However, as you turn to leave, the most extraordinary thing happened.

‘OH My---’ You gawked at the now opened door. ‘It WORKED?!?’

‘It was a valid argument to the constrains presented.’ The eagle knocker remarked, ‘Now it you please, enter quickly, you are letting a cold draft in.’

‘Th-Thank you.’

You’ve been into the Ravenclaw Common Room before and the rows of floor to ceiling bookshelves never fail to intimidate you.

Your eyes land upon the statue of Rowena Ravenclaw and the surrounding intricate tapestries, the soft glow of the sunrise transforming the circular room into a gallery fit for a palace.

‘Y/n?’ A voice called from the dark staircase.

‘AHH!’ You placed a hand to your chest. ‘CHO! What the heck?!? Don’t scare me like that!’

‘What are you doing here? How did you get in?’

‘OH uh… I ranted.’ You told her honestly.

‘You ranted.’ She said in disbelief.

‘Yes. But more on that later, I have more pressing matters.’ You stated, shaking the poor girl. ‘I NEED ADVICE CHO. CODE RED.’

‘CLEARLY.’ Cho sassed, dragging along to the sofa but you stood your ground. ‘y/n?’ Her tone now softer upon seeing your distressed face.

‘George kissed me.’

‘Whaaaaaaaaa?!’

You are utterly grateful for Ravenclaws minding their own business, a handful of early risers had gone out for breakfast passing you by. Ravenclaws no doubt has multitude of questions on what a Gryffindor is doing in their common room but had decided to not go down that rabbit hole and are more intrigued in guessing what breakfast specials there’d this last meal before Christmas break.

Though the more straightforward answer could be seen on Cho’s face.

It is too early to be dealing with this, but a friend is a friend. Though that doesn’t mean it stops Cho from internally swearing that her eyes are going to be permanently crossed from keeping up with your pacing about.

‘George kissed me and I didn’t even kissed me back-’ Pacing left, you recounted the previous night. As if sensing Cho call your bullshit, you caved. ‘okay fine! I kissed him back!’

Plopping face down onto the sofa, voice muffled by the pillow. ‘Is that what you want me to say?’ you demanded.

’I literally haven’t said a word for like over an hour’ uttered Cho matter of factly.

‘Sorry…’ You gaze up at her, pouting your lips as to make her forgive you faster before resuming to your grunts of ‘stupid George Weasley.’

Observing that your rant was over, Cho needed actual details in order to best help you. To help you out of this sticky situation or better yet some….realization, introspection…..That would be up to how honest you are with yourself. ’How was it though, was it…?’

You flop unto your back, mindless playing with your fingers as you recall, ‘It was like I was hit with a bunch of Cheering Charms.’

‘Really?’ Cocking her head, she continued. ’George was that good? How did he do it then?’

‘He just,’ Okay how were you to describe that magical moment? Wracking your brain but no words could do it justice. ‘He just like, grabbed me.’

‘uh huh’

Cho was unconvinced, so you decided to act it out.

Still lying down, you reach to the ceiling, clenching into fists. ‘and he took me, I mean it was strength, confidence.’

’mm hmm’

You brought your arms close to you, letting your eyes shut as you did so. ‘It was firm, but tender.’

’oh damn.’ Cho gasped.

‘oh yeah’ You hate how hot your face has become in a matter of seconds. ‘I saw through space and time for a minute, but that’s not the point.’

‘oh man what are you gonna do?’ Prompted Cho. This was it, the homerun, she thought.

‘I don’t know.’ You truthfully say. There are so many uncertainties, you genuinely don’t know. Wrapping yourself into a ball, you slip of the seat.

Leaning forward, Cho does the last trick on her list. The question that has been implied but left officially unanswered. ‘I mean do you…like George?’

You fake vomit. Your automatic defence system taking over. ‘bah yuck George? Ahhhh’ You tried to play it cool, chuckling. ‘Nooo!’

You’ve never told a soul! You and George are the best of friends-that’s the story.

Yet Cho’s unnerving brow challenges that narrative.

Halting, you swallowed.

‘Yes.’

Part 3, at the burrow will be coming up. So yeah.

It was supposed to be in this but I got carried away and got more inspiration from S2x16 where Nick and Jess had moments of albeit very panicked self-realization on the meaning of the kiss.

Taglist for this fic ‘No, Not like this’:

Thanks also for the support in part 1 and interest in reading more of the fic!🥰

@l0ttadreamz @vintagecherrypie106 @remmyswritings @jenniweaslee @iluvharrypotter172 @miaafrances @strawberriesonsummer @stressisakiller

Taglist [All/General]: @gruffle1

#george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley fluff #george weasley imagine #Fred and George Weasley #cho chang #weasley x reader #harry potter imagine #harry potter x reader #fandomscombine writes

154 notes · View notes

rookie-ramsey · 3 years

Text

Eclipse, Chapter 2 (Ethan X MC)

Description: Five years after the birth of their unexpected twins, Ethan and Olivia are expecting their third child. Even if they planned the pregnancy this time around, they learn that not everything goes as planned.

Rating: PG-13

Preview: Ethan’s hand brushed against her warm forehead. “You’re not nauseous from the pregnancy. Zoey and Jonah are both sick. They’re throwing up and have temperatures of 100 and 100.2.”

Olivia sighed. “I should’ve thought of that. The stomach bug is going through their school. They can sleep in here if they want to. You should sleep somewhere else so we don’t give you the plague.”

Ethan shook his head. “I haven’t had a stomach virus since I was ten.”

“Oh, yeah. You’re the Dr. Infallible Ramsey, immune to all human ailments. You have a golden immune system.”

Previous Chapter

On Sunday afternoon, Ethan read a book on the couch while the kids played and Olivia was out for lunch with Sienna. He looked up when he heard footsteps and saw Jonah and Zoey walking into the living room, both wearing their little lab coats and carrying their toy doctor’s kit.

“Daddy, can you play with us?”

Ethan set his book aside and nodded. “Sure.”

“What are your symptoms, Daddy?” Zoey grabbed a stethoscope, one of Ethan’s old ones, and knelt next to him on the couch. She touched the stethoscope to his chest and listened.

Playing along, Ethan pressed his lips in thought. “I have a terrible headache. Can you take care of it?”

“Yep! Jonah, get the Band-Aids!”

Jonah grabbed a box of bandages from their bag. “Got em!”

Zoey dug a Cookie Monster Band-Aid out of the box and unwrapped it. She stuck it to Ethan’s forehead and nodded in approval. “Okay. We’re done with you.”

Ethan feigned a frown. “A Band-Aid for a headache? Don’t you think you should be more thorough?”

“It’s a Cookie Monster Band-Aid,” Zoey supplied, shaking her head as she put the package back in their bag.

Jonah wrote some numbers on a piece of construction paper. With a mischievous smile, he handed it to his father. “Here’s your bill! That’s gonna be two hundred eleven dollars and… eight cents.”

“Did you even try to bill my insurance?”

“We don’t do that here!”

Ethan arched a brow. “I think this clinic is corrupt. I come in with a severe headache and I don’t even get an MRI?”

“Nope,” Jonah responded, trying to contain a laugh.

“Hmm. Why should I pay this bill?”

Zoey shrugged. “Okay, then. If you don’t pay, you can’t keep the Band-Aid.” With a giggle, she peeled the bandage off his forehead and tossed it aside.

“I think I’d like to see your medical licenses.”

Jonah shook his head. “I lost mine!”

“And you’re still practicing?”

“I’m just the bill person now.” Jonah shrugged. “I get to be the doctor next.”

Zoey handed him another sheet of construction paper with her name scrawled on it. “See? It says Doctor Zoey Ramsey on it!”

“Hmm. I still think this is medical negligence.”

Both kids laughed. Jonah took the stethoscope from his sister and leaned against Ethan’s knee. “Alright, I’m the doctor now. Make up a new sickness.”

When the front door opened, the twins looked up and waved. “Hi, Mommy!”

“Hi there. What’s going on in here?”

Jonah held up their doctor’s kit. “Medical negligence!”

“You can’t have a fun Sunday afternoon without that.”

“How was your lunch?” Ethan asked as she sat down next to him.

“Good. The baby made me eat tacos. We’ll see if they make a reappearance later. So far, I’ve only violently puked three times this pregnancy.”

“Here you go!” Jonah opened the Band-Aid box and stuck a Big Bird one to her abdomen.

“Huh. I’m not sure if I’m supposed to be amused or offended at the Big Bird implication.” Olivia ran her hand over her stomach when she felt a soft kick.

“Is our sister kicking?” Jonah asked.

“Uh huh.” Olivia took each of their hands and guided them to her stomach. “Feel it?”

“Yeah!” Zoey’s brow pinched in concentration. “It tickles my hand.”

“You two kicked a lot, but you didn’t start it until a little later. I’m pretty sure you were trying to kick each other.”

They laughed and picked up their toys before they left to play in their playroom. Olivia rested her feet on the table and leaned against Ethan, making herself comfortable.

“How are you feeling?”

“Alright. For now I just want to focus on controlling what I can. Even if she has to have a major heart surgery, we don’t have all the answers yet. Worrying 24/7 won’t change that.”

Ethan slipped his arm around her. “We’ll find out more at your next appointment.”

She nodded and gave his hand a squeeze. “Aside from being treated by five-year-old doctors, how was your day?”

He chuckled. “Uneventful. They asked for chicken tonight.”

“I agree with that.”

That evening, she helped Ethan fix dinner. Even though the chicken and potatoes looked and smelled mouth-watering, Olivia could feel the beginnings of nausea and she ate lightly to avoid unsettling her stomach.

Some time after they’d gone to bed, she awoke with an uncomfortable churning in her stomach. She grimaced and curled up on her side, willing the feeling to pass.

It didn’t, and she lurched out of bed when bile rose in her throat. She made it to their bathroom just in time and dropped to her knees in front of the toilet. A gag escaped her as she emptied the contents of her stomach.

Awoken by the noise, Ethan joined her in the bathroom. He held her hair back and rubbed her back with his other hand.

Olivia groaned. “I think I jinxed myself. Morning sickness just struck at one in the morning.”

“It happened like that last time. It’s not common for morning sickness to start in the second trimester, but it’s not unheard of.”

“It should be.” Olivia cringed and wiped at her mouth. She brushed her teeth to get the bitter taste out, then yawned and sleepily made her way back to bed. “Can you get me some water?”

Ethan retrieved a bottle of water from the kitchen and took it to Olivia. “Here. Keep yourself hydrated.”

Olivia sipped slowly from the water and yawned. “I guess the baby decided she doesn’t like tacos. Or chicken and potatoes.”

In the hallway, a door swung open. Ethan heard footsteps darting into the hallway bathroom. He left their room to investigate and found Jonah hunched over the toilet, throwing up.

Uh oh.

Suspecting that they were in fact not dealing with morning sickness, Ethan followed his son into the bathroom. His expression softened when Jonah looked up with a sad frown. “Feeling bad?”

“Yeah…” Jonah made a face as he leaned over the toilet again. Ethan knelt next to him and pressed his hand to his forehead, finding it warm to the touch.

Zoey ran into the bathroom with her hands clasped over her mouth. Seeing her brother leaning over the toilet, she dropped to her knees and retched into the trash can. “Yuck…”

Ethan found the thermometer and checked their temperatures. They were elevated, but not badly, to his relief. “Let’s get back to bed.”

He picked them up and carried Jonah to his room first. He tucked him into bed and moved his trash can next to his bed in case he threw up again. “Here you go. I’m going to get your sister to bed, and then I’ll bring you something to drink.”

“Okay…”

Ethan repeated the process with Zoey and made sure both kids were settled before he returned to his bedroom.

Olivia emerged from the bathroom, her expression sour. “I thought I was empty, but apparently not.”

Ethan’s hand brushed against her warm forehead. “You’re not nauseous from the pregnancy. Zoey and Jonah are both sick. They’re throwing up and have temperatures of 100 and 100.2.”

Ethan shook his head. “I haven’t had a stomach virus since I was ten.”

“Oh, yeah. You’re the Dr. Infallible Ramsey, immune to all human ailments. You have a golden immune system.”

He shrugged. “Either way, I’ve already been exposed to all three of you. There’s not much point in isolating myself now.”

“Fair enough.”

Ethan left the room to check on the kids, finding them both awake and purely miserable. He carried them to their bedroom and set them down on the bed. They immediately ducked under the covers. When Ethan lay down, Zoey and Jonah snuggled in between their parents and closed their eyes.

“I think a king-sized bed was the right choice,” Olivia yawned, closing her eyes and pulling the covers up to her chin.

“Are we gonna have to take medicine?” At the thought, Zoey wrinkled her nose.

Ethan shook his head. “It wouldn’t help a stomach virus. All you can do is stay hydrated and try to rest as much as possible.”

“Okay. Are you gonna get sick, too?”

“No.”

“Daddy never gets sick,” Jonah reminded his sister.

Olivia snorted. “We’ll see if that theory is true in a few hours.”

By four in the morning, they had a pile of vomit-soiled clothes and sheets. Eventually, after a few hours and cups of ginger ale, they drifted off to sleep and slept through the early morning hours without waking up to throw up.

Despite the long night, Ethan’s internal alarm woke him moments before sunlight spilled through the window blinds. He stifled a yawn and gently untangled himself from Jonah’s arm thrown across his chest and Zoey’s leg draped across his stomach.

He gathered the pajamas and bedding and started the washing machine, then emptied all of the trash cans and put clean bags in them in case they had a round two of last night’s occurrences.

An hour later, Olivia yawned as she joined him in the living room. “Did you call in?”

“Mm hmm. For both of us, and I called the school.”

“I’m lucky to have someone who’s programmed to run off of two minutes of sleep. I refuse to wake up before the sun when I have a day off.”

“Habit. I try, but my brain isn’t wired to sleep in on days I’m used to going to work.”

Olivia nodded as she opened the fridge and poured a small glass of ginger ale. She took a tentative sip, drinking it slowly in case her stomach decided to expel that, too. “The kids are still out cold. None of us have thrown up for over three hours.”

“The worst of it is probably over.”

“Well, we did have a doctor who made a night-long house call,” she chuckled. “Even if it meant letting three contagious people sleep in his bed all night.”

Ethan laughed quietly. “Sounds like a good doctor.”

Zoey and Jonah shuffled into the kitchen, both yawning and wearing Ethan’s old tee shirts from Hopkins. They climbed into their seats at the table. Ethan didn’t want them to risk unsettling their stomachs again, so he gave them each a cup of Pedialyte and some toast to try.

He poured himself a cup of coffee and raised the mug to his lips. When the scent of freshly brewed coffee hit his senses, he paused. Normally the smell was inviting in the morning, but today it made him blanch.

Olivia gave him a curious glance. “You look like I did last night.”

“I think I feel that way, too.” Cringing, he set the mug down and poured a glass of ginger ale instead. He took a few sips, only to set it down moments later. Olivia followed him when he left the room and found him throwing up in their bathroom.

“I’d say I told you so, but I know that would be a little harsh right now,” she teased gently, laying her hand on his back.

Ethan winced in disgust and took a swig of mouthwash to get rid of the taste. “I suppose my ego had me convinced I wouldn’t get sick. I stand corrected.”

She squeezed his shoulder. “Well, I’m feeling better than I did last night, so I think I can manage Zoey and Jonah for now. They’ll probably just nap most of the day.”

“If you’re sure.”

“I am.” Taking over, Olivia gripped his shoulders and steered him toward the bed. She urged him to lie down and pulled the covers over him. “Let me get the kids settled in and I’ll be right back.”

“Alright.”

She made her way to their bedroom door and paused, glancing back at him with an accusatory frown. “Oh, and by the way…. I told you so.”

Next Chapter

Tags, part 1

@princess-geek / @lapisreviewsstuff / @msjpuddleduck / @silverlitskies / @paulfwesley / @dr-brianna-casey-valentine / @junehiratas / @choicesstanblog / @trappedinfandoms / @justanotherrookie / @bellcat2010 / @desmaranj / @lion-ess24 / @nooruleman / @caseyvalentineramsey / @xee-na / @edith-eggs1 / @oofchoices / @schnitzelbutterfingers / @tefigranger / @jlynn12273 / @laceandlula / @crazy-loca-blog / @somegdchoices / @sanchita012 / @forthebrokenheartedthings / @lilyvalentine / @parkerattano / @drramseysownsme / @misswhit12 / @drethanfreakingramsey / @juneiswriting / @macy-ray85 / @swimmingauthordreamerbonk // @myusualnerdyself / @siaramsey / @takemyopenheart / @queencarb

#open heart #ethan x mc #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #tw: pregnancy complications #pregnancy complications tw

97 notes · View notes

gayestnerdsinfiction · 3 years

Text

bury your heart

cw: brain cancer and all its associated symptoms

read part two here

----

“Okay, here’s one,” Edward said. “When is a person like a piece of wood?”

“Hm,” Jonathan murmured absently, fingers running through Edward’s hair. He resisted the urge to make the first dirty joke that came to mind. “When they’re a ruler?”

“Good guess,” he murmured. He reached up to catch Jonathan’s long nose between his forefinger and thumb. “But, no. When they’re bored,” he revealed, grinning loosely.

Jonathan pulled away, swatting Edward’s hand out of his face. “Yes, Edward, I’m aware you’re bored. I’m not sure what you expect me to do about that.”

“Entertain me.”

“Entertain yourself,” he retorted. “Read a book.” Edward made a face at that, somewhere between annoyance and embarrassment. Realizing his mistake, Jonathan added, “Or listen to one of your stupid podcasts.”

“I keep telling you, the conspiracy theory podcast is not stupid and if you actually listened to it, you’d see that it’s very educational.”

“I’m beginning to understand why you flunked out of school if that’s what you consider educational,” Jonathan muttered. His phone buzzed in his pocket and he took it out, a small reminder lighting up the screen. Meds. He disentangled his fingers from Edward’s hair and slid out of bed, making his way into the bathroom.

“I didn’t flunk out,” Edward called after him. “I dropped out. There’s a difference. They didn’t fire me, I quit.”

Jonathan rolled his eyes but he didn’t respond, instead choosing to focus on rummaging around in the medicine cabinet. He took out his own medications—Lexapro, Clozapine, Zoloft—and then Edward’s. Promethazine for the nausea, Lorazepam for the seizures, Tramadol and Hydrocodone for the pain. And those were just the morning set. Jonathan tucked his pills into his cheek, dipping his head under the faucet to gulp them down with a mouthful of water. Then he brought Edward’s medication into the bedroom for him.

It had been a few weeks of this routine. Bringing Edward his meds in the mornings, again in the evenings. Smoothing his hair away from his clammy face as he vomited, knuckles going white from gripping the edge of the toilet. Watching him struggle to remember things, complete simple tasks.

Jonathan had seen some pretty awful things in his life. Gruesome deaths and life threatening infections and overdoses and people clawing their own skin off during toxin induced hallucinations. He had seen all of those things and yet this was still hard to watch. Maybe harder than anything else. The only thing keeping him from spiraling entirely out of control were the few painkillers he was able to sneak from Edward’s prescription. It took the edge off, kept him from thinking too hard about the fact that his friend was slowly dying in his home, his bed.

“Here’s another,” Edward said, swallowing his pills dry. He was at least in good spirits today, chattering away almost like his usual self. “We’re five little items of an everyday sort; you’ll find us all in ‘a tennis court’.”

“Vowels. That’s an easy one.” Jonathan sat back down on the bed and Edward wasted no time before depositing his head in Jonathan’s lap.

“Well, excuse me for not being at the top of my game,” he replied sarcastically. “The cancer makes it hard to think, you know.”

He tried to muster some kind of joke in response but nothing came to mind. He didn’t mind when Edward made light of his own illness, but for Jonathan to do the same felt incredibly inappropriate. Because it wasn’t funny, not to him.

“Maybe we could go somewhere today,” Edward suggested hesitantly, interrupting Jonathan’s thoughts. “I’m tired of being cooped up in here.”

“Might I remind you that the reason you’ve been cooped up in here is because you’re too sick to stand half the time?”

“But I feel alright today,” he insisted. He sat up, getting out of bed with a labored groan to demonstrate. “See?” he said cheerfully, spreading his arms. The gesture just made it even more apparent how thin he’d gotten, how wobbly his stance was. “I’m standing. I might even take a few steps, really go for it, y’know?”

“I don’t know, you don’t want to go too crazy,” Jonathan said dryly. “You might hurt yourself.”

Edward crawled back onto the bed, kneeling beside Jonathan. The dark circles marring his pale, sallow skin were deep but his emerald eyes were bright, eager. “We could go play chess in the park,” he proposed. “That’d be alright, wouldn’t it? I could sit down, get some air. Get some sun, God, I could really use a bit of sun, look at the state of my skin.” He peered up at Jonathan. “What do you think?”

He nodded slowly. “Okay. Later, though. I have things that need doing before I can go out.”

Edward grinned, his upturned nose bumping against Jonathan’s cheek as his balance wavered slightly. Quickly, as if to cover the slip, he pressed a kiss to the same spot. “Can I sit with you while you work?” he asked.

Jonathan frowned. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea. The chemicals—”

“I’ll wear a mask,” he interrupted. “Please?”

“Edward…” He sighed. “I don’t think huffing a bunch of toxic fumes is advisable if you want to still be feeling alright by the time we go out.”

Edward pouted, pulling away. “How about a riddle?” he asked, sounding thoroughly glum. He tucked his legs up against his chest. “When is a person like a piece of wood?”

Jonathan’s jaw tensed. “When they’re bored,” he answered, watching Edward’s reaction closely.

Edward just sighed, resting his head on one of his knees. “Gold star for Jonathan,” he said with a dejected twirl of his finger, unable to conceal the bitterness in his voice.

He swallowed. So Edward hadn’t realized. “You know you used that riddle before,” he said carefully.

His eyes darted over to Jonathan. “Really? When?”

“Just a few minutes ago.”

“Oh.” The silence between them was thick, heavy. “So you cheated,” Edward joked humorlessly.

“I guess I did.” Jonathan draped a long arm across Edward’s narrow shoulders. “Maybe I can… I suppose there are things I can work on outside of the lab. If you insist on having my company for the day.”

“I don’t want to trouble you,” he mumbled.

“It’s no trouble.” He gave Edward’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “It’s easier to let you watch me work than to come up with some other way to occupy your attention.”

He felt Edward smiling as he nuzzled against Jonathan’s neck. “I do require constant enrichment, after all.”

“Yes,” he murmured, “like a zoo animal.”

The comment earned him a swift smack on the leg from Edward. “Bastard,” he grumbled. “I have a terminal illness and this is how you talk to me? How would you feel if those were your last words to me, would you be satisfied with that?”

A lump rose in Jonathan’s throat. “No, I wouldn’t,” he said tightly. “And that’s not funny.”

“I think it is.”

He shot Edward an icy look. “I don’t.”

Edward balked, lowering his gaze as he relaxed against Jonathan’s chest. “Got to have fun somehow,” he muttered.

“Well I’m sorry it’s not fun for me to be reminded of your impending death,” Jonathan said tersely. “I suppose that is where our senses of humor differ.” He felt a flutter of something unpleasant in his chest and he forced it back down, forced his attention away from it. Jonathan started to get up from the bed, started to go to the bathroom to snag a couple painkillers. But before he could even make it off the mattress Edward’s fist had closed around the hem of his shirt and he was pulling Jonathan back towards him.

“Don’t go,” he pleaded. “Don’t be mad.”

“I’m not mad.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I’m not,” he repeated. “I’m…” He didn’t know how to finish that sentence. He was frustrated with Edward for being so glib about his own mortality and he was disappointed in himself for not being able to do more and he was downright terrified of what would happen when Edward was actually, permanently dead. “I’m worried,” he finished lamely.

Edward’s grip tightened around his shirt. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

Jonathan pried Edward’s fist away from the handful of fabric, lacing their fingers together. “I don’t know how to stop.”

#scriddler #scarecrow #riddler #jonathan crane #edward nygma #batman #dc #fic #my fic #writing #my writing #cancer cw #i believe...... there will be a part two of this

30 notes · View notes

punkasshunter · 3 years

Text

Hey I was talking about this earlier and since now I guess I’m hanging around tumblr again I’m gonna subject you all to it, but

Different niche specializations (ha) in the special infected to fill different roles in the spread of the virus hcs let’s gooo

I think there’s a couple of loose categories the different specials fall into, the first being primary vectors meant to transmit to as many people as possible while there’s still a relative abundance of healthy potential hosts around. Namely the ones who produce a lot of bodily emissions, the Spitter, Boomer, and Smoker.

The fact you can get an achievement for “contracting a rare strain of the infection” by being vomited on in Versus seems to support the bile being infectious to me, and like. We know the green flu is transmissible in a lot more ways than the traditional saliva-to-blood (or consuming infected brain matter, which is a little less likely) spread of rabies.

And besides the fact it would really, really hurt, I feel like the Spitters would actually be one of the most horrendously effective vectors. The acid almost definitely carries the pathogen, but it’s also creating a ton of open wounds and removing the barrier that someone’s skin usually provides from contagion.

The Smoker’s spores that they release seem like they’d have a pretty similar function, to make the virus transmissible by air.

They’re all sort of tied together, I think, because they’re also on the more “fragile” side of the specials. They don’t have to be very built for long-term survival, mostly to contaminate as many non-immune as possible in their lifespan. Beyond that, the mutations don’t seem to particularly “care” if the host, say. Eventually erodes their own internal organs or is strangled by rampant growths. They’ve even got that sort of “kamikaze” trait, that on their death they all sort of burst, releasing as much of the pathogen as possible in their vicinity. I’ve got this hc too that these three become even more hyper-aggressive when they’re badly injured, to ensure that they’re in very close contact at that time.

Then there’s a few who seem like they’d be more suited to killing immunes/people who aren’t a host for the virus, with infection as a secondary priority. The Tanks and Witches both, for sure. If they get ahold of you, you’re not surviving to turn in all likelihood. I’d put the Charger in this category too and what tracks is the fact that the ways they attack aren’t really conducive to spreading bodily substances, either. They work by either pulverizing or mangling someone instead.

The Hunters and Jockeys, I’d think are sort of somewhere between? I’d place the Jockey closer to the side of a vector, because of their tendency to steer uninfected into hazards like a Boomer’s vomit or the Spitter acid. With the Hunter, they’re closer to the side of culling the immune, although we do see them actively bite, so if you survive the attack you’re still likely to have contracted the infection.

Anyways if anyone else has any theories I’d love to hear them I’m still thinking entirely too hard about the infected in this game from 2008/9

#Left 4 Dead #T plays L4D #Is it almost 1am maybe

36 notes · View notes

luidilovins · 3 years

Note

You should turn your post on the Uncanny Valley into a book or something. I am not even kidding, it's brilliant and sorely needed information. Thank you for it.

Tbh its just speculative that the uncanny valley is an inherent biological trait and not cultural or a learned behavior at the moment. A good example would be the cultural phenomenon of colorophobia where in the US we have a longer history of using clowns in our horror pop culture genres than countries like Japan.

Clown entertainment has been around since the Egytian times and maybe some people have always been freaked out by them it honestly just takes one director or author to have an disproportionately irrational fear and good cinematography skills to convince people that they SHOULD hate clowns just as much, (I could say the same about the movie Jaws but thats a bit of a tangent,) or a memorable event that damages the public's trust in something that SHOULD be innocent or harmless. (A good examples being the John Wayne Gacy trials.)

Clowns are also thought to be in the uncanney valley so ita a fairly good argument on cultural phenomenon versus genetic traits. Up until aroud the 60s-70s clowns were actually fairly well liked by the US general public and a lot of older generation still find a fondness in it that would scare the living shit out of their grandchildren.

As far as evidence that I may be right about the "uncanney valley might be because of rabies" theory, there has been a small case study suggesting that the movements of a non-human robot that trigger the effect in us, is also present in people with parkinsons but the sample size is too small for me to be thoroughly convinced.

And don't be mistaken I also dislike this concept because saying that ableism is an inherent human trait is just as bad as saying racism is an inherent human trait. There is little to gain from distrust in the disabled and little historical evidence to suggest it was common or beneficial to discard disabled people. Disabled people's remains have been found time and time again to live to incredibly long livea and be cared for, and participate in their communities. I'm highly critical of this particular case study and I take it with a grain of salt because its on cosmo, but evidence of human disabilities and compassion can be sourced by actual bones and it's been placed on VERY credible sources. NPR, NBC, Discovery, Nat Geo, NY Times, literally the clostest you can get to creme of the crop news articles on DOZENS of accounts and if you have a goddam problem then pay for a tour to the Smithsonian, find an archeologist and coherse them into showing you the bones and then explain phorensics to you because you probably wouldn't understand unless you too were a phorensic archeologist yourself.

What I DO BELIEVE tho is that if the uncanny valley is a legitimate inherent trait, that like most evolutionary traits, it made it this far for this long because it somehow served us benificially. And the biggest benifit I can think of is identifying neuro-infectious diseases because they can spread agressivley, many of them lead to death or lasting effects and are fucking MISERABLE to catch. We're talking brain swelling, fevers, uncontrollable vomiting, tremors, hallucinations, motor and vocal tics, difficulty swallowing, seizures. This could all happen because they eat infected deer meat or because of one bad fox bite. It's miserable if you survive and horrifying if you dont. Rabies can survive in your muscle tissue for years before infecting your brain and once it does usually you only live for about 5-10 days in and out of concious knowledge that you're going to die painfully, and disease aggrivated psychosis. It would be hard to pinpoint the causation because the amout of time before full blown infection would vary too much to assosiate for a long time. So your only option is to hone in on telltale signs.

The disabled people who would suffer from herdeditary or developmental neurological disorders run the risk of prejudice from mistaken identity, but if a human is part of a community, and doesn't die within a week from having a wobbly head, it would sooner or later become apparent that they're not dangerous. I think nowadays culturally people don't press to learn more about disabled people due to social and political prejudice and never fucking grow up past that. Mistaken identity or not. You learn about people from the patterns of their behaviors so even ones that seem abnormal to you become a normal recognizable pattern for them. Fancy that.

We don't get grossed out by chimps or gorillas, who are even more distant cousins, and the proof that we don't have a search and destroy button for anything immediatly related to us is a bunch of bullshit can be found in almost every human's blood on earth. And not just neanderthals, but denisovans as well. And that's not even accounting for genetic backtracking the crossbreeding of other sapiens species before we were whittled down to just the three. What makes the tweet even stupider is that when neandertals still roamed the earth humans were shorter, hardier, and overall more rough looking so we looked even indistinguished then. We Also Chewed On Bones and neandertals handled cold climates better than us based on a study on chest cavity density and, skull nasal intake and heat circulation, providing genetic diversity and the upper hand in survival in the tundras or mountainous regions spanning over Eurasia. If it wasn't for humans fucking neandertals we might not have been able to spread over the contient or diversify the way we did.

So my full hypothesis is that if the uncanny valley is a genetic inherent human trait it was used to benifit people from catching agressive diseases in a time where the benifit of fearing a group member with rabies outweighed the cost of fearing a group member with a disability like parkinsons.

WHAT PISSED ME OFF was the idea that we are DESIGNED to be unwary of our evolutionary cousins could easily be used for white supremacist spaces to justify racism BECAUSE IT ALREADY HAS

So that one tweet that might seem like a quirky thinkpiece in my eyes is just fuel for eugenics trend round whatever number we're on. It's like we don't fucking learn. It would be REALLY easy to retool the concept that it's natural for people to be fearful of whatever the bullshit definition of sub-humans are. Claiming that black people were sub-human thus deserving of mistrust and submission to white ownership worked like a fucking charm.

Maybe if I go to college and major in psyche/socio/civics it'll be my college thesis. Right now I'm more of a hobbyist than anything, but what I DO know is that anyone can make an untested hypothesis to combat another untested hypothesis and it should hold just as much goddamn value. I combatted the idea that the idea that human othering was funneled into an unconfirmed effect that causes disgust and terror based on non-human sapiens is in fact racist and gave what is in my opinion a more evoluntionary practical approach to the uncanney valley.

The generalized links that I used APARENTLY weren't good enough for some people but aparently a single tweet that says "hur dur heedle dee uncanney valley exists because of human cousins" was taken at face value even tho it was probably tapped out in five seconds without regards to the reproccussions. I find a huge discomfort that less than studious links about the evolution of monkey social behaviors that I used as a guideline to explaining my concerns became the focal point for people to nitpick without even having the gall to "well actually" on the subject. That absolute ravaging NEED to rip apart at it and devolve into name calling because I MENTIONED racism is fucking suspicious and I don't trust it. I had to stop looking at the responses because some people were only reblogging and arguing with barely half of my argument and i was getting nowhere fast.

There were a few people that made actual points with cited sources that made their own rebuttle arguments. That I respect. It's just as valid an argument as mine and I'm ALWAYS willing to take on more credible sources to strengthen my stance or gain perspective.

But it's the utter dismissal of a concerning concept that just seeped into the subtext that gnawed at my gut. Some people on top of hating the linked sources I provided, admitted they didn't read it, refused to read between the lines to purposfully misinterpret or derail my main points, and detract that my claim that the tweet was a result of systemic white supremacy saturated into modern science was a bunch of bullshit because I claimed that 1500s anglos invented racism.

The thing is we did invent the racism that we fucking currently subscribe to.

We practice the science that we formulated based on our own social prejudice. Real people die from this.

We remain uncritical of our own theorums that we postulate then pat ourselves on the back like we're philosophical geniuses even though racism is a family heirloom with a new paint job.

We preach the eugenics ideals that we pulled out of our asses to benifit from fearmongering, promises of national security and unpaied labor.

White supremacists create subtext with the intention of it being consumed by accident or in ways that seem palatable.

Fuck.

That.

I don't hate the person who wrote the tweet. Chances are that they gave the tweet as much thought as they took the time to write it and went on their day as a fun little thinkpiece. Everyone on the internet does it. But its that kind of thinking error that needs to be adressed as a progression of historic and scientific prejudice that gets rehashed, recycled and untouched and continually damages and is weaponized against marginalized people. I am not wrong for taking it seriously especially when a bunch of people were sitting around nodding their heads just as effortlessly.

I don't owe the internet any more sources than the tweet. I don't owe anyone on the internet a full scientific ananysis. And the people's reaction to what I had to say was actually what further convinced me I might have hit the nail on the head.

#answered asks #uncanny valley effect #eugenics #fuck white supremacy #systemic racism #racism #negative #slavery #luidilovins

28 notes · View notes

worminstuff · 3 years

Text

karl jacobs lore ish thing

by crackba- mick.

here is my karl lore/ time travel brain vomit. i genuinely do not believe this will make sense to anyone because it is SO all over the place and a lot of the things said aren’t fully explained so i can do another more organized one if that’s what people want, cause this is literally just confusing brain vomit. i condridict myself and i don’t explain each thought which is because of how confusing the topic i’m explaining is. plus i’m a tad rusty lol.

while reading this you may form your own logical theories i may not have thought of, that’s okay and that doesn’t mean i or you are wrong, nothing about this is proven it’s just gumbled insane theory’s created by logic that hasn’t been proved yet. also all of my knowledge of time traveling is back from when i was 12 and had the mind of a crackbaby, so bear with me. good luck!!!!!!!

Okay so this is going to be broken up into a couple things so bear with me. I'm gonna go through some of karls lore for background, time traveling facts and or things to generally know about it and how it works and can affect things, and how these things will affect Karl possibly or maybe explain some things.

To start, Karl first started/learned of his abilities after the destruction of l’manburg. According to the wiki page (i know i'm sorry) he was done with picking sides and just wanted to see everything be peaceful with all of his friends happy. His end goal is to find a timeline that is peaceful and happy OR try to help each timeline he can find so that it will maybe cause peace in OTHER timelines.

The thing about time traveling though, is you physically can't do it “right”. No matter what you do you're changing or messing with something you shouldn't, because of the butterfly effect. The butterfly effect simplified is where when one thing is slightly changed it drastically changes everything else. When you time travel and change something there is always the loophole of future you did that oo, so it was already bound to happen before you could change it. You can't change” a timeline in theory, because the future happens based on the past so what you're doing “right now” has already happened in the future. I hope that makes sense. This kind of cancles out the butterfly effect, but if we were to rely on the butterfly effect without that logic then that is a whole other type of problem. By changing one thing, youre causing a chain reaction for many things to happen, after. This mostly affects things when traveling BACK in time, but it can affect the future too. If you were gonna go back in time to the day prior and let's say, not eat the breakfast you ate that day. When you go back to “present day” suddenly you've got a stomach ache and your mom gets worried and then you have to go to the doctors and then you miss school and suddenly you've got a tardy that messes with your grades and transcript to the point that it changes which colleges you would've gotten into had you NOT time traveled. Make sense? No? okay.

Karl has also more recently become aware of this place called “the between '', i'm gonna personally assume this is the place that each and every dimension/timeline available coincides in some way. Some sort of middle ground. In this huge castle/heaven like place of peace are books to guide karl. Who could be writing these books? A future karl who knows he’ll find them? Do they just exist? We don't know. In the last stream we saw at the end that there were many karls passing through each other as if they were all ghosts or something, non interacting with each other, but for some reason karl could see all of them. Why could he see them all but they couldn't see him or eachother?

Because he's witnessing other timelines overlap?

Wrong. Well maybe- each time you pass into a timeline, one that is close to yours (which karl does because why would they help the smp if they weren't that timeline?) so that means there is already a karl in that timeline. But he's putting another one in, himself. By overlapping these, it can cause many things to happen.

There are MANY karls that ALL time travel. So a possibility is that when one karl does something, another does something in that same timeline messing it up further. They're accidentally crossing dimensions.

Every time karl messes with the past, he's changing a future, so every FUTURE he's been to can't exist anymore unless we were to consider that in that future karl had already gone to the past in that time line many years prior causing it to be that way. This could be confusing to look further into though.

Why does this all matter? i don’t know.

Because karl cant change anything. Whatever he has done, or will do, is already set in stone by another karl, a future karl already did it and that's why that future is that way.

One could argue that he could force a butterfly effect continuously, but again, future karl must've already done that, because he lived the same thing this karl had.

This would mostly all aply if he were going to times when he was still alive, so let's think about how it is where he's going further and further into the future and past. If he's not alive then he's going into a timeline where he has already been there (because of the many karl rule things we went through a bit) so by going there he's only solidifying what future was already there. He's still not changing anything. Because what he's trying to save already happened. How could traveling so far into the pass make things so much worse? Because what he's trying to fix hasn't happened, but he's going to do is going to cause it. No matter what he's done, if he's staying in the same timeline and dimension, he's still only solidifying what (same but different) Karl already has done.

Bringing it back to the book in the inbetween thing, another theory could be that Karl DID succeed so he put books to force his other selves to follow what he did to keep that same outcome for whatever timeline he saved. But then back to the knowledge of “how could he have put them if he would've needed them to fix that timeline like the new karls will?”

I still don't know. why are you asking me?

That's why it doesn't make sense for any good outcome of this. Karl is messing with time, and in no way will he be able to “fix” it consistently. He's Not the only karl, and because of that, time will never be consistent.

Not to mention he's losing himself, that could lead to even MORE problems.

None of this made sense to anyone. I'm sure this is literally 12 year old mick brain vomit, if you understood any of this good on you. If not, I am so sorry you read all of that.

The thing about writing about this stuff is that the further you write the more you think of and the less it makes sense.

Stupid version of all of that: (this part is a joke)

Karl go different time that time change and he do bang bang which essentially won't actually change anything, because past/future karl would have already done it. When karl time travel, future karl did it first cause future karl USED to be present karl, and past karl isn't present karl yet. Which means, the wars were all karls fault lol

#karl mcyt #karl jacobs fanfiction #karl jacobs #karl lore

27 notes · View notes

sword-of-summer · 3 years

Note

All of them answer every question fuck you

ahahaha no i respectfully deny your "fuck you" and i accept the ask and so-

i am 5'10", and i don't wish to be taller or shorter- i am the perfect height for hugs and messy hair, and yep, i like it here-

dream pet would be a mix of golden retriver and a husky called Holly and a chonky cat called Loki- yes ofcourse my future kids have names everyone should name their future pets-

ripped jeans/black pants with a Darth Vader tshirt or a Ethnic Fusion Kurta with black sneakers/artificial leather slip-ons, and if it's cold, a black jacket open obviously- and a black wristwatch i love my black wristwatch.

favourite video game was Clash of Clans and going even back, GTA Vice City and, the og- MARIIOOOO

three things/people are Oreos, Nutella and Pizza. The Holy Trinity-

"Beware me my fingers are smeared with chicken popcorn grease"

you didn't mention an opinion, @chunkybirb, so imma give my opinion on Vanilla ice cream and Nutella- ANYONE WHO HADN'T COMBINED THESE TWO COMBINE THESE TWO THEY ARE FUCKING AWESOME

im either phlegmatic or melancholic bruh idk maybe ik or maybe not

im v v v v ticklish

not an allergy, but an intense hatred for ketchup- i vomit if it gets too close to me fuck you ketchup

im heterosexual

any between tea and coffee but full milk coffee (ik, kill me), never had cocoa- but i love a chocolate or nutella milkshake

both. both is good. (cat and dog)

i would be an elf cause hell yeah, knowledge and wisdom

favourite youtuber is Samay Raina, a stand up comedian turned youtuber who is just awesome-

as i mentioned in 1., i am 5'10"

i would not change my name cause it's the coolest fucking name ever, i am Tanay, and Tanay in Hindi means Son, and my parents literally named their son Son, and hell yeah i like it

i forgot how much i weigh- last i checked it was 75 kilos, but ive gained weight since 2019 so yep, gotta walk in the mornings

yes i believe in metaphysicality cause one- it seems cool- second- me and @theclassyghost discussed a metaphysical life theory that i really really like and metaphysicality gives preservation of knowledge so i believe in spirits

SPACE. SPACE. SPACE.

im not that religious, no

pet peeves no well nah not really

nocturnal def nocturnal i sleep at 4.50 anyway hehehehe

fav constellation is Cassiopeia

fav star is Sirius tho

what the fuck are ball jointed dolls

i do have a fear of losing people that's just anxiety i guess

yep, global warming is real

never thought that much about reincarnation tbh but maybe, i do

fav movie is Spider Man : Into The SpiderVerse and Inception and The Dark Knight Rises and Revenge of The Sith and yes, for my indian gang, 3 Idiots and Gully Boy

yep i get scared v v v easily

i have had no pets but i plan to once i grow up

@chunkybirb 's blog is fucking cool awesome and *chef's kiss* a masterpiece

blue calms me. i love blue.

live in Norway cause pretty lights, snow, and less people than this overpopulated country i am in

born in Mumbai, India

v v v dark brown like it's almost black but no it's dark brown

introvert

horoscopes and zodiacs, i do read them, never believed that much tbh-

HUGS I LOVE HUGS

i really wanna visit my brother i haven't met him in a long time i really wanna play cricket w him just like old times

my sister- she's annoying but well i care for her

nah

tattoos idk bruh im okay idk may get one or may not get one

nope, smoking is ewwww *vomits*

ah my crush- she's cool [ if she exists

when the chalk doesn't write on the board but goes iiiiiieeee I HATE THAT

a sound i love is rain pitter pattering i just hhhhhh sends me into happiness

nope fatass here

favourite actors have to be eddie redmayne, oscar issac and pedro pascal- and margot robbie and winona ryder in the actresses section also yes, elliot page

bruh already answered in 30.

im okayish!! spotify and tumblr, cool combo-

my hair are okay being black for me

yesterday, monday, from 6.40 to 6.50

music

uhhh naah not that i know of

well in Rick Riordan's Magnus Chase books, the sword of Frey aka Sumarbrander TALKS and demands to be called Jack, so here i am

bakwaas, music and comfy

yep, i believe in evolution

unfollow on hate and when they dm me sending nsfw pics ugh why are people like that

follow, well, i like people and they seem cool, so i follow them

fav kind of person is the one who'll sit with me for hours not even talking and just vibing to music

fav animals are beavers, doggos and cats

three fav blogs are @chunkybirb, @theclassyghost, @little-boats-on-a-lake, @aredhel-of-gondolin, @sue-me-imbadass, @alleenkaas, @my-ackerman, @brrrrrrrrrrzone

fav emoticon has to be ☹ this me seeing my stupidity outrank others

fav meme has to be Butternut is a master of psychological manipulation

INTP

Libraaa let's go

no dog, i have

black darth vader tshirt, black pants, black sneakers and black wrist watch

i have no selfies my phone has no cameras i live in eternal darkness

what the fuck are platform shoes

i, uhhh, i remember weird things like what i drew in class in 3rd while i was supposed to be doing english

lazy ass here, no front flips possible

i like birds they fly

nope i don't Iike swimming i like blankets

wrapped up in blankets reading books sounds better than both

ketchup

hyperspace travel

nope none

reading writing eating sleeping

my friend

tumblr seems cool

i have around 60-70 idk

yes i can run but why

yes they do but what's the fun in that

nope I'd fall over

sapphire let's go

koala bear or panda

sunflower or the one on a lemon tree

ketchup store

one cup of coffee is enough, tysm

read minds that sounds cool cool yeaaahh

nope never wore it a black clothes guy here BatMan

winter winter all year long

i don't know and i don't wanna try

i don't know and i don't wanna know

everyone cause they are better than me

bookstores cause bookstores any bookstores

sneakers, black onez

apparently some gas bitches mixed up to form a planet

non vegetarian but i partake meat just twice or thrice in two weeks

i don't know they don't seem like liking

naaaaaaaah

bugs ew

spiders ew

about the fact that i come off as arrogant and overconfident while in reality it's just that my communication skills suck

i can draw averagely whenever im in a mood

this thing im answering but i like answering it

uhhhhhhh brain freeze- idk bruh questions are good they give knowledge

yep, while sleeping

ahh yes calming, they are

cloudy days cause fucking cool vibes

hehehe wouldn't you like to know, weatherboy

CumuloNimbus i really like it's name yknow nimBUS

dark blue, dark blue always or black

naaaah no freckles

fav thing is when they laugh and it's just happy and we're both laughing like shitheads but who cares we're rebelling against depressing life and we laugh

both. both is good [ fruits and vegetables

sleep but i have to answer 170 questions cause @chunkybirb

sky sky sky it's my blog's header duh uh sKy

sweet and sour candy. SWEET AND SOUR CANDY.

dim lights it makes me feel cool

ahhh so here we go- Mooncalfs, Thunderbirds, Phoenixes, Sphinxes, Dragons that seem to be Space Nebulae, and more and more and more

i really feel like a boomer sometimes

i love everything about this site/app it makes me feel happy cause i like the people and the posts

uhhhhh i think too much about everything cause i just do. i like thinking

"He's dead, guys. For the sake of The Force, please watch Star Wars now he wanted to discuss it with you" actually no i would just say "A big shoutout to Garlic Bread he loved Garlic Bread"

myself cause i should be sleeping but sleep is for the weak and i am the weak and the strong i am a paradox-

that i obsess too much on things and try involving people it never works out

nope. had braces for 4 years, that beat out teeth showing smiles

i prefer computer-tv ahahahahaha

never tried them, so IDK

naaaaah not motion sickness- never travelled by sea so idk seasickness

lobed ears

yep i believe that deeds do count in life and beyond

idk bruh i don't believe in physical attraction too much- bodies are fake- mentally/metaphysically tho, im a 7

ahhhhh many many Stupid Genius, Tani, Tanu, Tanya

i still do-

i really want to talk to a therapist. converse. and discover.

im both, i am both.

10:1 is the ratio- giving 10, receiving 1

uhhh nothing just when i am right and people use the old "disrespect" argument

3, Hindi, Marathi, English

girls

uhh no i am not

my hair i love them everyone says things about my hair but i love them

knowledge vibes i give, someone tells me- and that's all i ever wanted

anyone i know tbh, my mutuals, my friends, my discord friends

ahhh no i wouldn't but i wish i was born 20 years earlier

bleh bloo, neither like nor dislike

i don't know if i have one

i don't know, haven't had physical contact in a long long long time in a galaxy far far away

the above point stands but i would like to ig

anything i write, 3 hours later, i instantly hate just idk why

anything i write

that i am normal no i am not and i am not okay hahahahaha

65-70 ish people

somewhere around-

many many many don't ask please but okay if you do ask

somewhat

uhhhhh idr exactly but i won't tell in public duh uh

mediummm hairrrr

last year lockdown i became harry potter

i don't know buddy i seriously don't know

yep i do cause knowledge i like knowledge

naaah never tried

no i definitely cannot stand on my hands or my head for more than 30 seconds

yep, im pretty sure i answered most of them correctly-

og link-

#personal #ask #tumblr

16 notes · View notes

breakfast-cereal · 3 years

Text

Stupid For You (2) -Johnlock

← ← MAIN MASTERLIST

← PART ONE

PART THREE

!¡Trigger Warning¡! DO NOT IGNORE!: mentions to drugs and addiction, alcohol use, vomiting, hints to declining/poor mental health.

Rosie's hair was in a slightly dishevelled braid that reached just above her shoulder blades

"Youtube seems to be helpful for tutorials. Slightly inaccurate, though." Sherlock looked as if he was about to write down notes.

"It's YouTube, Sherlock." John looked at Rosie who had a massive grin on her face

Rosie rushed to Sherlock and wrapped her arms around him. "Thank you, daddy!"

Sherlock didn't seem to protest and accepted the role of a father figure to Rosie. John was confused by this. If Sherlock was a father figure to Rosie wouldn't that insinuate that he and John were together? Does that not bother Sherlock?

"No problem." Sherlock ushered Rosie back to her room and then sat back down to work on the case.

John sat on the couch, sneaking glances at Sherlock while watching some sports game on the telly. He reached for his phone on the table and scrolled through it while watching the telly and concentrating on Sherlock. John was hoping this would have some distraction from his headache. The light from his phone just seemed to make the headache worse. John had opened google and was staring down at it. His headache was horrible and those confusing feelings had returned to plague his thoughts. Without thinking, John entered "John Watson and Sherlock Holmes" into the search bar and entered it. He looked around anxiously as if someone was going to pop out of any corner and catch him looking at this. The worst would be Sherlock. Results popped up raging from "Johnlock" blogs to articles describing their relationship. John clicked on the first article and skimmed it until reaching a part that specifically piqued his interest.

Sherlock Holmes and his partner John Watson's relationship is obviously less than platonic. Relationship expert, Tiffany Laines has confirmed multiple theories with her video "Debunking 'Johnlock'." Laines stated in her video that "Holmes and Watson are very close for just roommates. It seems it's Holmes&Watson rather than just Holmes and Watson. Based on body language queues, like the leaning in from Watson, and the way Holmes' colleagues described him as brash whereas it seems John does not find him that way. Can this mean Holmes treats Watson differently? Of course, we can never be sure with their limited interaction, but my speculation is something is going on."

John read over that paragraph multiple times. He read it for what felt like hours. He stared and analyzed it wanting to know what they meant. What the secret meaning could be even though the truth stared back at him. He wanted to throw his phone. Launch it across the room. Find whoever wrote that article and beat them. Instead, John put his phone down and made his way up to make some tea.

"Tea?" He asked into the air, hoping Sherlock would maybe answer.

"Yes, that'd be nice."

John prepared two cups and watched while the water boiled in the kettle. He listened to it fizz and at some moments John wondered if it would boil over. John could be compared to a kettle. He would fizz and bubble until he reached a point where he would just stop or boil over completely. John believed he was a calm individual, though he wasn't. It's hard being calm when you're rather vigilant all the time.

"I've got it!" John spun to see Sherlock pacing around the house frantically. "It was so obvious how could I have not gotten it!",

"What?",

"It's objects! The numbers were words and the words were objects. I've got a lead, John.",

"How did you manage to get that out of a sheet of numbers?" John was impressed. Well, not impressed, because Sherlock could solve a murder with his eyes closed and hands tied, but his skills were always impressive.

"It became quite obvious with hints. The necklace the woman had is a precious object so at first, I thought it could be something expensive, but there's nothing expensive in our flat. Yes, I'm assuming it is in our flat, as the woman left these papers in our flat rather than taking them to Mrs. Hudson, or some other person. Of course, maybe it's just because she was one to visit us, but with the pieces of paper originally the coordinates seemed to also have directions that were rather similar to the way to get into our flat. To sum it down simply, there's clues in certain objects in our flat." Sherlock seemed so animated when he talked about these things. He always strived for perfection and clarity on his cases and when he got it, it's like it sent him into a high. "Don't drink the tea, by the way.",

"What's wrong with the tea?" John felt overwhelmed with this information. There were hidden messages all over the flat. What if he stepped on one? Or got it wet?

"You added milk to yours. It's expired. Strange you pour the milk before the water." John looked at the milk in his cup that had small chunks in it and dumped it down the sink, sugar swirling down with it.

The kettle finished as John was there and he poured it into Sherlock's cup. He waddled over to Sherlock's desk and placed the tea, noticing the messy state of affairs. Sherlock's desk had papers all over it. The papers in the centre focus were the ones from the most recent case. One paper had computer, Jane Eyre, heart, written on it, while all the others remained blank.

"Heart?" John felt a strange feeling when Sherlock looked panicked. Sherlock looked like that word wasn't supposed to be written.

"Likely mistake. I don't know why that word is there. Stupid mistake." Sherlock quickly flipped over the paper and overemphasized the grab of the cup. "Go watch telly or something. I'm busy." John hated the way Sherlock would brush him off so easily. Even with living with him all these years he still couldn't brush off the hurt it caused. He wanted to get his mind off this, but his mind immediately went to drinks. With what John remembered happened last night, drinking was the last thing he wanted to do. So instead, John left the flat.

He walked the opposite way from the pub. His mind thought of one thing and one thing only; Sherlock. He felt like one of those articles as he speculated what heart could be. Does Sherlock have a secret photo album of Irene Adler? John was sure that Sherlock didn't have any human organs (they had cleaned all those out after John screamed at Sherlock over the fact that if Rosie ever found them she'd be terrified.) Was heart meaning that Sherlock's heart had been taken? Was he in love with someone? John felt a spike of jealousy and resent for whoever this person was. How dare they have Sherlock's heart. Why can't it be John? John paused internally. Why was John so jealous? He didn't like Sherlock. He never liked Sherlock. Sherlock was a friend, but friends don't get jealous over their friend's relationship because they want it to be them. Maybe John wanted Sherlock as a little more than a friend, but he only liked women. His brain was just being weird again. It's because he hadn't been with any women in a while. He just missed Mary, and Sherlock was the only person around that he could be with, so his brain was just skipping to conclusions. John needed to meet someone. There was one person that came to mind, the woman he had met on the bus. He had always wanted more and now was the time for that. He could unblock her number and text her. It would be something that has no strings attached. It will help John get his mind off Sherlock. He'll be able to realize his feelings were stupid.

When John was back at the flat he felt strange guilt. Like sending a text to this woman would be cheating on Sherlock. Sherlock wasn't romantically interested in John at all. John stared at his phone and the text that was sitting and waiting to be sent

Would you maybe want to meet up sometime this week?

John shut off his phone, he needed time to consider. He wasn't sure what he wanted. He wanted something. He wanted someone, but this just didn't feel right to him. She didn't feel right for him. He felt like he would be using her. He would use her to distract himself from his own problems. He didn't need a distraction he needed advice. He really needed advice. Who was he supposed to get advice from?

John sat at a small table with a pink linen table cloth on it. The chairs were rickety and felt as if they were going to fall apart any moment, whereas the table cloth looked pricey and was clearly good quality. It had ballerinas dancing on it, and could definitely be used as a small blanket.

"What are you here for, John?" Mrs. Hudson asked,

"I need some advice." John expected Mrs. Hudson to be the last person he went to, but there he was, sitting in her flat.

"Aw, did something go down between you and Sherlock?",

"No, no, that's not it. Well, I mean. I don't know." John wanted to smack his head into the desk. "I need advice on feelings."

"Oh, John," Mrs. Hudson sounded genuinely caring. Or maybe John just wanted her to care.

"I'm not in love, before you think I am. I'm just confused and I want advice.",

"Is it Sherlock?" Mrs. Hudson knew before John. The articles knew before John. John realized with those words, that he was indeed stupid for Sherlock. He had to admit it to himself. He can't deny it all.

"I don't like men." Denial, denial, denial. All he did was deny. He had realized, but he wasn't going to acknowledge it. He may know, but if he ignores it, it's not real.

"I may be your landlady, but that doesn't make me oblivious." ,

"But I'm not-"

Mrs. Hudson interrupted him, "my advice is to stop denying it."

John pushed up from the table, shocked the chair didn't crumble. "I think that's enough advice for today." He hissed as he left the flat.

TAG LIST: @johnlocktrashsblog @ephemeraljimin @artefo @love-j0y

#johnlock #johnlock fanfic #john watson #sherlock holmes

8 notes · View notes

angstyaches · 3 years

Note

I can't seem to find it, but I asked about how your vampires work in your world and how they work in mine but I can't seem to find it. Would you mind talking about them more? Or sharing any info on the vampires in your world you like? -Lee

You absolutely did ask me that, and I can't find where I answered it for the life of me. I definitely meant to link it to my masterlist but clearly I forgot.

Okay, I found it in the end. Here's a link! I'm going to go and add it to the Swallow the World masterlist right now too, before I forget.

And here are a few more facts that I didn't go into detail about last time.

Historically, the vampires in my world are loyal not due to the emotional bonds that they form, but also because of the strain of vampirism in their veins. In the past, let's say four or five hundred years ago, it was impossible for a blooded vampire to go against their Elder's wishes. It was almost as though the Elders performed a kind of mind control over their wards. That element has faded over the centuries, so Ryan doesn't have that power over Elliott or Felix, but there are traces of the ingrained loyalty still lingering. For example, I've never written anything where this happens, but I have headcanons where Felix (especially during his first year or so with the Aldridges, since he was more emotionally unstable and insecure) would sometimes get the unexplainable urge to go and find Ryan, and when he does, he kneels down next to her and just leans his head against her like he's a cat looking for attention from his owner. To Ryan's relief, this doesn't happen too often anymore, but when it does, she needs Nancy to come and gently pry him away, reminding him that this isn't how they do things around here. By contrast, Elliott has pretty much always challenged Ryan on her beliefs and her rules, but honestly, she prefers that to being revered or mindlessly obeyed.

Vampire law states that no one under the age of twenty five should be blooded, or even half-blooded. This is a) to prevent anyone from being blooded before their bodies and brains have stopped changing too much, b) to prevent anyone from being prematurely blooded and having regrets, and c) to prevent anyone from being "stuck" looking too young for all eternity (the vamps in my world are not about looking eternally young or beautiful, but having the capacity to be eternally strong or wise).

However, people younger than twenty five can still attach themselves to a vampire clan, and from the age of twenty one, they can take a pledge of allegiance to the Elder and "swear on" as a future blooded member of the clan. This was Madelyn's plan for Shayne when he turned twenty one, for him to swear loyalty to her and bind him to the Devine name. He doesn't know any of this until Ryan tells him about it, and now, he's concerned that she's going to ask him to swear on to the Aldridge clan instead.

Half-vampires can - and, in fact, need to - eat human food in addition to consuming appropriate levels of blood. In theory, Felix could survive almost two weeks by consuming only blood and no food, but the poor boy would be awfully cranky if that were to happen.

Now that he's a full vampire, Elliott's body will actively try to reject human food at any cost. As I've hinted at before, Elliott absolutely hates vomiting, so the poor lad will probably still try to fight his nausea if the occasion arises. I feel like there's a lot of fun to be had in this.

Thirst in my vampires comes with a physical sense of hunger and discomfort in the stomach, which can grow tight and sharp if the vampire goes without feeding for too long. A thirsty vamp will also start to feel dizzy. In some cases, there's even some pain, ranging from discomfort to full-on burning, in the gums as the vampire's fangs force themselves down to demand a feed.

Most fully-blooded vampires have supernatural abilities that manifest between a few months and a few decades after transformation. Ryan's manifested as a flawless photographic memory. Madelyn can see through the eyes of any insects within a half-mile radius of her. Watson has the ability to shapeshift into a man-sized bat, as we may remember from the early story and Charlie's nightmares. And after his transformation, Elliott learns that he can teleport across various distances by turning into a cloud made up of a thousand tiny bats. The prospect of gaining a cool new ability is the only draw that Felix sees for becoming a full vampire, but he loves human food way too much to ever consider it.

Ooh, also. Half-vampires do age, although it's at a miniscule fraction compared to unblooded humans. Full vampires do not age at all. So, in theory, despite the fact that Elliott was in his early thirties when he was changed, and Felix was in his mid twenties, there will be a day where Felix will have "aged" past Elliott's human age.

#wow i had more to say than I realised #anon #anon Lee #vampires #vampire OCs #StW Elliott #StW Felix #StW Ryan #Swallow the World #Swallow the Worldbuilding #vampire sickfic #OC sickfic #OC emeto

4 notes · View notes

kaiunkaiku · 3 years

Text

Do I have requests in my inbox? Yes. Did I write this instead? Also yes. In my defense this was like 95% done because I actually wrote this in 2016 right when the dorms were introduced but then I just never published it lmao.

Fandom: BNHA

Summary: "His whole body aches with ghosts of healed bruises and scrapes, reminding him of how easy he actually got away while the heroes got beaten and slain and half of them are still lying in the ICU and it’s all his fault for getting kidnapped, for being so careless even when they were under an attack and for being so goddamn weak that he couldn’t even get himself out of there and his hands won’t stop shaking."

Warnings: Nightmares, panic attacks, vomiting, the usual post Hideout Raid arc KiriBaku shenanigans

Ao3

Enjoy!

Katsuki jolts awake with sparks at his fingertips, whole body dripping cold sweat onto his clean sheets. His black tank top clings to his back and chest, rustling lightly to the rhythm of his harsh breaths he's desperately fighting for. He looks around in a frenzied panic and for a moment he has no fucking idea where he is, because even though the room seems theoretically familiar with the posters, color scheme and sheets, it's not his room because there are things in weird places. The door is supposed to be ways to the left, his windows are smaller and he doesn't even have a desk like that – Until his brain catches up with reality and he realizes that this, in fact, is his room and that he actually does have a desk like that.

Because he's currently living in a dorm because he was kidnapped by the guys who went on and beat heroes after heroes and sent them to the hospital and All Might was defeated and Katsuki clenches his fists to stop them from shaking. His eyes start to slip closed but behind his eyelids is a den of villains, oceans of blood and cities of dead people, civilians and heroes alike, and Shigaraki Tomura's eerie voice whispering in his ears; become a villain, join us, how about that, you'd be great, you like winning too, huh?

A shiver travels up his spine and he forces his eyes open as he pulls his knees closer to his chest. His hands are still shaking and he can't seem to stop it, just like he can't seem to get his breathing in check. The nightmares blend together with the recent events and make a nest at the back of his mind and refuse to leave him alone. The darkness of the room feels oppressive, almost, and he reaches for the lamp on the nightstand before realizing that his lamp broke while being transported and thus he does not currently have a lamp.

The room feels cold and Katsuki shivers again. His whole body aches with ghosts of healed bruises and scrapes, reminding him of how easy he actually got away while the heroes got beaten and slain and half of them are still lying in the ICU and it’s all his fault for getting kidnapped, for being so careless even when they were under an attack and for being so goddamn weak that he couldn’t even get himself out of there and his hands won’t stop shaking.

He draws in a breath. It’s as shaky as his hands and noticeably difficult and he takes another one, and another after that and it doesn’t get significantly easier. In theory, he knows that he’s probably having some sort of a panic attack, but the knowledge does nothing to help him – on the contrary, knowing what’s happening sends his thoughts into a new spiral of calm the fuck down and start breathing you fucking idiot and fucking hell if I can’t even control my own body. His hands feel numb, his face feels numb and his skin is crawling and he feels like he might throw up. His chest feels hollow and cold, his ears are ringing and there’s Shigaraki’s voice again, black liquid crawling up his throat and swallowing him up and Katsuki scrambles up and makes a dash for the bathroom door. He doesn't even bother to turn the lights on, doesn't have the luxury of time to hit the switch before he's hacking up the measly contents of his stomach. He hasn't eaten properly in a few days, hasn't really had the appetite to eat anything.

When the nausea finally passes after a good five minutes of dry heaving, Katsuki is drenched in sweat and his hands are still shaking. He still can't breathe properly and he feels lightheaded. Rationally, he knows he has to get himself to calm down, but actually doing it is a completely different thing. He tries to think about anything else, but his head keeps repeating and going through the events of that god-awful night. Eventually though, his mind provides him with an image of Kirishima reaching out to him, Kirishima with his ridiculous spiky red hair and sharp teeth calling for him, and Bakugou remembers a blast and then Kirishima’s hand was holding his. Kirishima's hand was warm and felt like safety and at that moment Katsuki didn't give a single fuck about Deku or anyone else.

There are sparks at the tips of his fingers again. He notices them a second too late, and one triggers an explosion in his sweaty, shaking hands and he’s back in the loop with Shigaraki’s voice floating around his head.

XxX

Eijirou wakes up to the sound of an explosion. It takes a few disoriented seconds for him to realize where he is, and then he's out of the door. At his left Shouji stumbles into the dark hallway as well, looking exactly like Eijirou would expect anyone to look at what-the-fuck AM. He himself doesn't probably look any better.

It's obvious that the sound came from Bakugou's room. They both stay quiet for a short while, listening for signs of a struggle or a fight, but the hallway stays silent. The boys share a confused look, with no small amount of concern mixed in, because if they both heard the explosion then it was not a dream and there's something wrong with Bakugou. Not that Eijirou hadn't noticed something off before, but this is a surefire testament to wrong, loud and clear.

"I'll go check on him," Eijirou says quietly, glancing at Bakugou's door. Shouji nods and retreats back to his own room. By now, the whole class has pretty much understood how the main aspects of Bakugou's personality work – question his pride, ask if he needs help and be explodo-killed. Eijirou seems to be an exception to this, though, so it's an easy decision.

Eijirou watches as Shouji's door closes and takes a deep breath. Bakugou hasn't told him much about... that, though Eijirou suspects he knows more than anyone else. Sure, the police and the professional heroes know the cold, hard facts, but Eijirou knows Bakugou's personal perspective. Not everything, not even close, and he's not about to force anything out of his friend, but there's one sentence, though downplayed from what Eijirou could conclude from a shaky voice and gritted teeth, that chills him right down to his core.

XxX

It's been two days since they rescued Bakugou. It's been two days since Japan lost its symbol of peace. Bakugou is under strict orders from the police not to leave the house under any and all circumstances, so when neither one of them is being interviewed by the authorities and Eijirou’s parents aren't demanding their son home, Eijirou has taken to spending time at Bakugou's. He's learnt to read the other boy well enough to realize that being alone isn't the ideal state right now, even if Bakugou would never say it out loud.

Eijirou fills the silence with pointless chatter. Though there is music playing, it feels important not to let Bakugou forget that he isn't alone, so he talks about TV shows, games, comics and gossip, never mentioning heroes or school or God forbid news. It works between them just fine. Bakugou isn't really talkative, not to mention that he's tired thanks to the crowding, endlessly curious officers that won't stop asking the same damn questions, thanks to being treated by Recovery Girl and thanks to the nightmares, so he lets Eijirou handle the talking and settles for reacting to stories and grunting answers to questions.

It's been two days and Bakugou has persistently refused to meet any kind of a shrink both the police officers and the doctors have recommended. It's been two days and Eijirou knows about the nightmares even though he hasn't been explicitly told, and he's worried about his friend. So it's been two days when Eijirou finally asks the question.

"Are you okay?" he asks in between two silences, voice soft in order to not freak Bakugou out. Bakugou tenses up, shoulders rising to his ears, fingers and toes curling up.

"Perfect," he mutters through gritted teeth, after a slightly-too-long moment of hesitation. He's lying, obviously, and Eijirou, perhaps against his better judgement, decides to push one step further.

"Do you... wanna, you know, talk about it?" And it's that single question that sends Bakugou teetering over the edge. He scrambles up from his bed and right to his feet, stance defensive before he's even standing.

"The fuck do you wanna know?" he snarls, voice threatening, but there's a shaky undertone. He waits for a blink, eyes wide, and then he loses all sense of an inside voice. "THE FUCK DO YOU WANNA KNOW? WANNA KNOW WHAT THEY DID? WHAT THEY SAID? HOW I FELT WHEN EVERYTHING WAS SUPPOSED TO BE FINE AND THEN WENT TO ABSOLUTE FUCKING HELL? FUCK YOU, FUCK YOUR QUESTIONS, FUCK ALL OF THIS FUCKING BULLSHIT!" Bakugou stops screaming, panting. His shoulders hunch, but he regains his stance the second Eijirou moves to stand up from the beanbag he's been nested in. "What do you people want?" Bakugou then asks, exhaustion setting in.

Eijirou takes a step forward, keeping his hands in front of him. Bakugou looks ready to fight.

"Just what you're ready to tell me. That's all I wanna know, okay? Nothing more." Eijirou keeps his voice steady as he takes another step forward. Bakugou stares at him and lets his shoulders down again, and then he drops his whole weight back onto the edge of his bed. He squeezes his eyes shut and drops his head, too, as his nails dig into the mattress. Eijirou crosses the distance between them in two steps and settles next to his friend.

"I was scared," Bakugou whispers, voice shaking and breath hitching and he sounds so angry at himself. "I was so goddamn scared." And Eijirou knows he was probably terrified out of his mind, but it doesn't matter. What matters right now is that Bakugou is squeezing his hand for dear life, and Eijirou has no intention of letting go.

XxX

Eijirou stands in front of Bakugou's door for a moment, hearing Bakugou tell him "I was scared" over and over again and he wants nothing more than to keep Bakugou in his arms forever and ever and protect him from everyone and everything. He takes a deep breath and knocks.

"Bakugou? It's Kirishima," he says. There's a distinct possibility that Bakugou has absolutely no intention of opening the door, but Eijirou hopes that maybe, just maybe it's different with him.

Footsteps approaching the door tell him that he's right. He takes a step back and waits as the boy on the other side fumbles with the knob. Eijirou briefly thinks that maybe he should have pulled on a shirt or something, but then again he's been out of bed for less than a minute and he doesn't really care, and he's pretty sure Bakugou doesn't either.

Finally the door is yanked open. Bakugou is wearing shorts and a tank top, and he looks awful. He's shaking all over, face pale and eyes rimmed red even in the darkness. He's not breathing properly.

Eijirou surges in and closes the door behind him because this is a sign of trust, might be the biggest indication of trust he has ever been given, and he is not about to ruin it by gaping openly at his friend, let alone keeping the door open for the whole world to see, even if it’s in the middle of the night and there's no one to see – no one even awake, besides them.

(He hopes, at least.)

Bakugou's room is just as dark as everything else in the building. Bakugou himself stands in the middle of it, fighting for every short breath he takes and shaking like a leaf in a storm. Eijirou stops on his tracks and tries to look as non-threatening as possible, because Bakugou, in addition to looking absolutely miserable, also looks like just about anything could throw him over the metaphorical edge of his sanity and plunging right into the cold embrace of his fight-or-flight response, and Eijirou seriously doubts Bakugou has a flight option even programmed into his brain.

"Bakugou, I'm gonna turn on the lights, okay?" Eijirou says as he fumbles for the light switch without turning his back to Bakugou. Handling him is kind of like defusing a bomb, Eijirou thinks. Bakugou flinches when the lights flicker to life, and now Eijirou can see how pale his friend really looks, how his shirt clings to his chest with sweat. There's a terrified look in his eyes, but he stays still as Eijirou walks to him slowly.

"What happened?"

XxX

"What happened?" Kirishima asks. His voice sounds soft and like he really, truly wants to help, and it takes all of Katsuki’s self-control to not reduce himself into a sobbing mess. He doesn't do that.

Katsuki is still getting dizzier by the minute, because he still can't breathe and his hands are still shaking and he still feels like if he closed his eyes he would be back there. He feels something brush the back of his hand and then Kirishima is standing in front of him, silently asking for permission to take his hand. Katsuki complies, reaching for Kirishima's hand, and then Kirishima intertwines their fingers and Katsuki finally finds it in himself to shake his head to the still lingering question. Kirishima seems to get this, because he changes his approach.

"What's wrong, then?"

"Can't breathe," Katsuki chokes. He feels like he's drowning, has felt like he was drowning since the minute he woke up and he has no idea how long it has been. The room is swaying, or maybe that's just him, but Kirishima's hand holding his is anchoring him to the present and that's probably good, he thinks.

"Okay, we're gonna take care of that first. I count and you breathe, yeah?" Katsuki nods and the next thing he knows, Kirishima has maneuvered both of them to the floor. Kirishima counts in intervals of five, emphasizing the numbers with first Katsuki’s fingers, then his own and then Katsuki’s again, and not once does he let go of Katsuki’s hand.

In minutes, Katsuki finds himself breathing easier. The tremors traveling up and down his spine and limbs slowly come to a stop. Kirishima is endlessly patient, rubbing Katsuki’s knuckles with his thumb and keeping up the count until Katsuki can do it himself. Kirishima's voice distracts him from the ringing of his ears, and the light chases away the eerie whispers throwing themselves around in his head. He's tired, exhausted, and he finally lets his eyes slide shut as he rests his head on Kirishima's bare shoulder.

"You okay now?" Kirishima's voice wafts softly to Katsuki’s ears. He nods slowly, hesitant, but in the end maybe he is, now that he can breathe again and doesn't see blood and death when he closes his eyes.

"That's good," Kirishima sighs, sounding relieved. "So, uh..." He starts drawing circles on Katsuki’s back. Katsuki lets him. "What happened?"

Katsuki tenses up at the question; his heart skips a beat and he stops breathing for a second. He can't. He can't, he can't go over this again, not right now, not when he's still scared as fuck and it's so stupid, he's supposed to be a hero-in-training and here he is, helplessly clinging to a friend because of a nightmare. And Kirishima is so fucking understanding and so fucking emphatic and –

"Just what you're ready to tell, yeah? Just what you're ready to tell."

– so fucking comforting.

"Nothing," he growls in response, because Kirishima can be anything he likes but he's still not going to start talking about his feelings. "Absolutely fucking nothing."

XxX

Absolutely fucking nothing, my ass, Eijirou thinks. Bakugou is still sweating, and it doesn't take a genius to put the puzzle pieces together – Bakugou was obviously having something akin to a panic attack when he came in, and Eijirou knows about the nightmares. He doesn't want to force anything, doesn't want to pressure his friend to go through whatever-the-hell happened in his head again, but Bakugou's lie is so painfully obvious that he can't just leave it at that.

"I heard an explosion. Shouji heard it too," Eijirou tells, pulling away from Bakugou so he can see his face. Bakugou isn't looking at him.

"It's stupid," he mutters. "Forget it."

Eijirou takes a deep breath and prepares for the shitstorm his next comment is bound to cause. He doesn’t know when he became such a goddamn masochist.

"It's not stupid if it makes you upset." The moment the words leave his lips he realizes how incredibly cliché he sounds. Bakugou's face scrunches up and he lets go of Eijirou’s hand as if the contact suddenly burned.

"It is," Bakugou hisses back and stands up. "It fucking is because I'm supposed to be in control of my fucking quirk and then I have a fucking nightmare, a bad fucking dream and I'm exploding all over the fucking place like a fucking pre-schooler and I am so fucking tired of things not going how they should go!" Bakugou is rambling now, pacing, with his hands nervously messing his hair up further. Eijirou doesn't try to stop him, because at least he's talking now.

Bakugou is a perfectionist by nature, Eijirou knows. He's scary smart, too, and not just by his grades – he makes calculations and constructs scenarios in his head even if his actions don't always look like it, so he can't be too accustomed to things sliding out of control as badly as they did at the training camp, let alone during the rescue operation. Eijirou also knows that Bakugou has been praised as a genius his whole life, so the expectations must be huge. Even overwhelming, at times like this, no matter how he appears outside.

And now he's allowing Eijirou to see past his shell.

Eijirou gets up, too. He has no idea of the time, doesn't know how long he has been awake or how many hours he still has left until morning, but the relevance of time has figuratively flown out of the window by now. He crosses the distance between the two of them. Bakugou is still pacing, looking like stopping isn't an option anymore, but Eijirou reaches for his hand anyway.

He's fully expecting Bakugou to bat his hand away, so his surprise nearly sends him reeling back when Bakugou comes to a stop and actually lets him take his hand. Eijirou gives a tentative tug, soft and barely there and he’s not really expecting it to do anything, but Bakugou practically collapses right into him. His head falls on Eijirou’s shoulder again, forehead on bare skin and soft hair tickling Eijirou’s ear and cheek. There’s a shuddering inhale and a huff of hot air, and for a moment Eijirou forgets how to speak. How to move. How to think.

It suddenly occurs to him that he’s pretty much naked, in the middle of the night, in Bakugou Katsuki’s room. He doesn’t know what they are, exactly, but he does know that he’s wanted to kiss Bakugou for a while now (his original plan concerning his personal life, when starting high school, was to kiss as many cute guys who were also interested in kissing guys he could find. That plan hasn’t existed since late April. He really hopes Bakugou is interested in kissing guys). This is a terrible and very inappropriate train of thought right now. He’s holding Bakugou’s hand. He’s holding Bakugou’s hand.

Mentally shaking himself, Eijirou brings his free hand, the one that’s not holding Bakugou’s hand between them, to the back of Bakugou’s head. Bakugou’s shaking fist clenches on his shoulder.

“You’re okay,” Eijirou whispers to somewhere between Bakugou’s hair and the still air of the room. Shifts his head so he can repeat the words into Bakugou’s hair. It’s ridiculously soft.

Somehow, at some point, they end up sitting on the edge of Bakugou’s bed next to each other. Bakugou has calmed down significantly, but the panic definitely left with a price – he’s starting to look like he’s going to crash any minute now. It’s like he barely has the strength to keep his head up, and even that’s propped on his hands, which in turn are supported by his knees.

Eijirou watches him for a moment, one he could measure if time had any meaning right now, and wonders if he should start heading back to his own room. He doesn’t know if he wants to leave Bakugou alone, though.

“Do you wanna go back to sleep?” he asks eventually; quietly.

Bakugou heaves a sigh. “Fuck no,” he says, tone exhausted, and presses his knuckles to his eyes.

“Okay. You want me to sit with you for a while?”

Bakugou turns to look at him.

“Yeah,” he breathes. “Yeah, okay.”

And if Bakugou's hand finds its way back to his, well. No one needs to know.

#kiribaku #bakushima #fanfiction #boku no hero academia #bnha #bnha fanfiction #my writing

19 notes · View notes

spaceskam · 3 years

Note

14 maria deluca

i’m sorry this took so long, I am indeed a distaster

tags: friends with benefits, fluff (mostly), pre-relationship, POV Maria DeLuca

14. Casual [ao3]

It started out as a good idea.

Maria needed an outlet and Kyle needed a distraction. It was fitting, honestly, because they both worked weird schedules. It wasn’t anything serious, just something they did when they needed to blow off some steam. One of them would go to the other’s after a long shift at work, they’d hook up at three or so in the morning, and then they’d make a respectable walk of shame at around six.

It was only when it became rather recurring and they started running into issues of keeping it a secret between them that the good idea part seemed to fade.

“Okay, so, maybe we should talk,” Kyle said one morning as they both laid in his bed, his questionably expensive sheets draped over them. They’d caught their breath already and the sweat on their skin was drying. Maria, personally, felt nice and floaty still.

“About what?” she asked.

Kyle shifted onto his side and looked down at her, gaze warm and welcoming in a way that made her heart beat a little faster. That was all new. She still wasn’t quite sure how to handle that feeling. That or the fluttery feeling she got whenever she showed up at his door smelling like alcohol and sweat and he looked at her like he’d be willing to lick the ground she walked on.

“Rosa is coming home soon,” Kyle said, “And she’s gonna be staying with me. New environment, a non-alien environment. No offense.”

“None taken,” Maria said as she moved to prop herself up on her elbows.

She’d gone to see Rosa a few times in rehab, but things between them were still a little off and none of it was made better by Isobel monopolizing Rosa’s visiting hours. Maria was hoping to fix that after she came back home. They were best friends at one point and she knew they could figure out a way to get that back, even if times had changed and they now had nearly a decade of age difference. The alien thing was just a fork in the already bumpy road.

But Maria was looking forward to putting in the extra effort.

“I’m not exactly sure how to navigate this with her in the house,” Kyle said.

“I mean, I don’t mind coming over when she’s here. I want to start hanging out with her more, two birds, one stone,” Maria said. Kyle made a face. A small one, but a face nonetheless. “Okay, then you can come to mine.”

“Then she’s going to ask where I was.”

Maria searched his face, trying to find anything that would give away whatever he was thinking. Kyle was usually pretty good at saying what was on his mind all the way up until he was sure it was going to get a negative response.

“Oh. So… you want to stop.”

“I don’t want to,” Kyle insisted, sitting up a bit more, “I just don’t know how else we can keep going without her noticing something is up.”

“I mean, we’re all adults here, it’s fine if she knows.”

“Yeah, but she’s my little-big sister and your friend and I’m her sister’s ex, that’s weird, right? If she knows about our sex life? Like, honestly, I don’t want to stop, I have a lot of fun with you, but you don’t think she’d think it’s gross or awkward or something?” Kyle said. Maria huffed a laugh, tilting her head as she sat up completely alongside him.

“Do you really think she’s going to care? After seeing her big-little sister dating one of the guys that literally covered up her murder, I don’t think me and you are going to be that big of an issue,” Maria said. Her tone was colder than intended, but she couldn’t help it when bringing up the topic of Rosa’s murder.

God, that still pissed her off to an unmatched degree.

“I just don’t want to make her feel uncomfortable around me or in her own house,” Kyle said, a little pout on his ridiculously handsome features.

Sometimes, when she let herself think too much, Maria couldn’t fathom why Kyle was interested in her of all people. He had a good, stable job and had the face of a fucking god. It wasn’t even that she thought low of herself, it just didn’t make sense that he would settle for anyone in this town. And yet, here he was, trying to think of a way to make his sister feel welcome in his home.

How perfect could he get?

“I know her pretty well, I think,” Maria said. And she did. She felt like she knew Rosa better than she knew most people. Granted, there was a possibility some of it wasn’t as accurate as she would like it to be, but time causes a lot of fuck ups. “And I don’t think she’d be uncomfortable. I mean, she might make fun of us and make it awkward for us, but for the most part, I’d think she’d be fine.”

Kyle bit down on his lip hesitantly.

“Are you positive?” he wondered.

“If it would make it easier, I can talk to her about it,” Maria offered. That didn’t seem to bring him any kind of solace. “Or we can not tell her anything and just act normal? Like this is totally casual and not worthy of a discussion?”

“Casual,” Kyle repeated, nodding his head. Maria didn’t know whether that was a good thing or a bad thing to hear. “Right. Um. Okay. What if we go somewhere in between?”

“What the hell is in between?”

“Okay,” Kyle said, shifting towards her with so much enthusiasm that the sheets shifted and she got a very distracting glimpse of the length of his torso down to his upper thigh, “What if we just tell her that we’ve been hanging out more? Like, as friends. No details necessary.”

Maria searched his face, feeling almost guilty at the way he seemed so convinced that was a great idea. Rosa was going to see right through it and she was going to call them out immediately. But, if that’s what he wanted, she would do it.

“Okay. I’ll tell her that we’re just hanging out.”

“Okay, cool,” Kyle said, shoulders dropping with relief. He then blinked at her twice before throwing himself back onto her, pushing them both back into the mattress.

Maria laughed as he did so, smiled as he kissed her again, enjoyed every second as he fit himself on top of her effortlessly.

It was definitely worth trying to come up with something to tell Rosa.

Or. That was going to work well in theory.

It’d been two weeks since Rosa had started staying with Kyle, two weeks since Maria was hanging out with her more whenever she could. She and Kyle decided not to risk anything sketchy, but they’d both been getting a little antsy and, truthfully, phone sex just wasn’t cutting it when the real thing was right there.

So, Maria found herself at 3:30 AM standing on Kyle’s porch and tapping her foot against the ground. The plan was she was going to be quiet, slip into his bedroom, get their fix, and slip out before Rosa woke up.

But, when Kyle opened the door with wide eyes and a tilted head, she knew something was up.

“She’s still awake,” Kyle whispered. Maria couldn’t even find it in herself to be shocked. She was more annoyed that she had been so blindsided by horny brain that she forgot Rosa was borderline nocturnal.

“Do you want me to leave?” Maria whispered back.

“Well, I already opened the door, so‒”

“You’re going to let bugs in and I’m not killing any of them, I’m just going to push them into your bedroom!” Rosa called, “Just tell Maria to come in!”

“I guess you’re coming in,” Kyle said.

Maria took a deep breath and tried not to feel weird about it as she stepped inside. Kyle, however, had apparently never learned to hide any of his facial expressions and his disappointment was written clear across his face. Maria carefully swatted his stomach and headed into the living room.

“Hey!” Maria said, reaching out to give Rosa a hug where she was sitting on the couch. She had a bowl of popcorn in her lap and her eyes were trained on the gory scene in front of her, but she still managed to give Maria a hug.

“Hey, how was work?” Rosa asked, glancing over at her just to show she was paying attention before looking back to the TV.

“Fine. Didn’t have to throw anyone out and I got tipped pretty well, so I can’t complain,” Maria said, her eyes following Kyle as he went to sit on the other side of Rosa.

“That’s good. Kyle over here didn’t even save a life this evening, so I’m glad one of you did something productive,” she said. Kyle glared at her like he was personally offended.

“The fact that we didn’t have any extremely pressing surgeries tonight is a good thing,” Kyle said. Rosa shrugged.

Maria found herself laughing quietly at their casual bickering. It was a weird, yet welcome change. She had gotten so used to hearing it from Liz and Rosa that it was strange hearing it from someone else, but it was also a new way to see Kyle. Maria quite liked each new version of him she saw.

Still, they lapsed into silence as they watched the movie. Maria had no idea what the plot was or what was even happening, she just knew there was a lot of screaming and a lot of blood splatter, and Rosa seemed invested. So Maria tried to get equally invested, but she produced a less than stellar performance.

Instead, she found herself glancing behind Rosa’s head to look at Kyle. Half the time he was already looking at her. The idea that he couldn’t stop looking at her had her shifting in her seat and feeling a bit warm. She wanted him more than her logical brain could even make sense of and she didn’t know how to feel that not even Rosa’s presence and her movie of choice could turn her off.

What the hell was Kyle doing to her?

“Oh my God,” Rosa said suddenly, groaning and grumbling in Spanish as she leaned forward to grab the remote. Maria jumped, eyes wide as if she’d been caught doing something she shouldn’t. But she hadn’t. All she did was look at Kyle. That wasn’t illegal. Still, Rosa shut the movie off. “Can you guys stop eye-fucking over my head? I’m going to vomit.”

“What are you talking about?” Kyle asked, but his face gave it away. He was the worst liar Maria had ever seen.

That made him all the more endearing.

“I know y’all are seeing each other or whatever the fuck,” Rosa said, pushing off the couch and putting the bowl on the table, “I don’t care, by the way, but I’d rather you never make me sit through that ever again. That was disgusting.”

“We didn’t even do anything,” Maria defended. Rosa rolled her eyes.

“I know you well enough to know what you do when you’re flirting and you’re totally flirting with my brother right in front of my eyes,” Rosa said. Kyle took a sharp breath in. “So gross. I’m going to my room and playing my music loudly. Call me when you’re not waiting for me to go to sleep so you can bang like I’m a child.”

Rosa saluted and walked to the guest bedroom. Sure enough, loud music started coming from her room and Maria let out a disbelieving laugh. She didn’t have enough time to turn to Kyle before her phone alerted her of a message.

Rosa<3: It’d be a lot less gross if I wasn’t related to him, but at least he isn’t ugly and he’s also a doctor. So gross but also good job, proud of you, make him buy us a yacht once he pays of his student loans

Maria laughed, a bit of weight lifted off her chest. She didn’t really think Rosa would mind, but Kyle’s nerves about it had rubbed off on her. She looked up to let him know that she was all for it and saw Kyle still staring straight forward, lips parted in shock.

“Hey,” Maria said, eyebrows pulling together as she slid closer. She put her hand on his shoulder. “You okay? She doesn’t mind, like, she’s not mad or anything.”

“That’s the first time she’s called me her brother to my face,” Kyle said, turning his head, “She’s never said I was her brother.”

Maria smiled softly, “Well, you are.”

“Yeah, but… she never says it. I don’t know, I feel like that was some kind of milestone or something. Like I should celebrate,” Kyle said, huffing a laugh. Maria shook her head fondly and slid her hand across his shoulder blades.

“I know a couple of ways we can celebrate.”

“I was kinda thinking of grabbing a beer with Alex, but that’s good too,” Kyle said honestly. Maria laughed and tugged him closer. She felt his breath on her lips and wondered how the hell she went two whole weeks without it.

“You can do both.”

“I like your thinking,” Kyle murmured, and then he was on her, leaning in and kissing her as it’d been forever. And it sort of had been.

Kyle didn’t break the kiss as he shifted around and grabbed her thighs, lifting her off the couch. Maria gasped softly in response, but she held onto him and let him take her to his bedroom. Rosa’s music was still clear despite it being muted by his bedroom door closing.

They fell back onto his bed, pulling each other closer and closer and it seemed impossible to get enough. Even as they started stripping and touching and things heated, none of it seemed like it would be satisfying enough. She wanted to do this for hours. Days. Weeks.

And suddenly it didn’t feel so casual anymore.

And, for some reason, Maria didn’t even mind.

#maria/kyle #maria/kyle fic #maria deluca #kyle valenti #roswell new mexico #my fic #title tuesday

8 notes · View notes

jenniferroland · 3 years

Text

[starter for @loverot]

"If you can look at what's there and not eat yourself hollow with shame, you are not human anymore."

Transferring out of Mount Massive to play brain scrambler in the middle of the Arizona desert was hardly a step up. She’d put in a request for leave numerous times and been denied on the grounds that her research skills and capability as a pathologist made her “too valuable an asset” to allow her to be off the asylum campus for any extended period of time. But when a handful of her female coworkers began experiencing hysterical pregnancies from proximity to the Engine, she was suddenly a liability instead. Never mind that she experienced precisely no negative effects from it; if anything, her mind felt sharper when working on location than it ever did in remote labs, like popping a handful of Adderall.

The segregation came without warning. Experiments and treatments went unfinished; communications went dark; theories withered and died without the proper environment in which to nurture them. Uprooted and shipped away to some toxic waste dump, Jennifer Roland never felt more useless.

Day in and day out, she sat behind a monitor, watching religious fanatics of varying degrees of insanity fight and fuck and feast and absolutely slaughter one another. The scheduled bursts from the Towers would resound, the crew inside the lead-insulated concrete shelters would shield their eyes, and shortly thereafter, an all-out shitfest would ensue on the screens in front of them. Recovery teams were dispatched to covertly collect any bodies they could, which were promptly tossed onto the slab in the operating theatre or iced in the morgue. Occasionally, they’d get a few on the table who just refused to fucking die, and in more than one instance, Roland would return to her quarters with a black eye or finger-shaped bruises branded into her throat.

“That’s why you get hazard pay,” she can recall Jeremy Blaire assuring her over drinks. “Relax, Jen. The building is radiation-proof. The radio waves can’t hurt you in there.”

Once rare, those desperately clinging to existence (it could hardly be called life by the time they’d arrived at the lab) were showing up in higher and higher numbers. Their presence always fucked with the medical equipment — due to the high levels of radiation they were exposed to, she was assured by Dr. Ewen Cameron — but more than that, it was affecting people: relief nurses, research assistants, those who had the least contact with them. It was Cameron himself who paged her into the telemetry lab to show her the increase in radio wave blips on the radar, seemingly organic hotspots of radiation cropping up out of nowhere. The “feedback loop,” he’d called it: such prolonged exposure to such vulnerable individuals mutated them from receivers to projectors.

These unholy fucks were walking nuclear reactors, and they were bleeding it inside the lab.

Between autopsies of lunatics and treatment of her infected staff, Roland accumulated the most exposure to these residual waves, which is perhaps why she held out the longest. While others were rushing to the bathrooms to puke their guts out or sobbing into their workstations, Roland kept the Towers from collapsing under its own weight. Just like she had at Mount Massive, at least in her own mind. Such responsibility, of course, takes its pound of flesh, resulting in a sharp uptick of headaches and irritability in the doctor.

In fact, she kept an iron grip on the facility, even as employee numbers began to drop. Some transferred; some just dropped dead. All were required to vacate the operating sector by 22:00 hours so that it could be “defunked” for the next day. Roland, of course, oversaw this expedition, which usually consisted of hanging out in a hazmat suit and surfing what little internet they were allowed access to while the facility was cleansed. The longer she sat at the computer, the more severe her migraines would become, which she chalked up to blue light exposure.

But when the urgent email alert – MOUNT MASSIVE ASYLUM STAFF EVACUATION – popped up in her notifications, the pain in her skull went from throbbing to blinding. The computer mouse flew from her hand and shattered on the floor as she dug the heels of her palms into her eye sockets, desperate to relieve the pressure behind them. Searing white heat tears at her retinas and she’s utterly convinced that her brain is hemorrhaging.

Through that glaring light appear misty shadows of men in lab coats, blurred as if through a foggy camera lens: men with clipboards and scalpels and blue latex gloves. A scrawny lad in his early twenties wriggles futilely on the table, strapped to the gurney by too-tight leather restraints around his limbs and forehead. He’s fully conscious but barely cognizant of anything but fear. She can hear the low timbre of male voices floating around her, murmuring words she cannot or perhaps will not comprehend. Her focus is on the young man before her and the muffled syllables he attempts to utter from beneath his oxygen mask. Cutting through the underwater noise is the sound of her own name, sharp and deliberate, and her gaze falls to the laryngoscope clutched tightly in her left hand.

Shifting behind the boy on the table, she adjusts her grip on the tool and removes the oxygen mask from his face. He’s drooling quite profusely. With the sleeve of her right arm, she gently mops up his mess before prying his mouth open with her fingers. At this moment, his eyes snap up to hers, pupils blown wide with terror, and though his movement is highly restricted, it’s evident he’s trying to shake his head. The raspy frantic whisper of “no, no, no” does nothing to phase her colleagues. She attempts to quiet him with a soft shushing (to absolutely no avail) and inserts the curved blade into his throat. Tears, mucus, and saliva flow together as he struggles to breathe; his eyes plead for mercy, the lightless gaze of a soul all but relinquishing itself to the higher power of Death. As she preps the endotracheal tube for insertion, Jenny tries to swallow her nerves but they catch in her throat, dry and brittle. Guilt won’t save them now.

“Oh, God, please—”

Roland’s torn out of the vision by the inescapable urge to vomit and she rolls onto her side to wretch away the venom in her memories. With no recollection of how exactly she ended up on the floor ten feet away from the monitors, she pushes herself up and wipes away the acid from her lips. Just like she had in her memory.

And she feels sick all over again, but not just for the fate of that patient: for all the rampant fuckery shoveled upon her by Murkoff. Psychological manipulation, radiation poisoning, blatant sexism. She enlisted in this army to study genetics, not to torture the cognitively vulnerable to the brink of insanity.

Fuck Jeremy Blaire. Fuck Murkoff. Fuck this Project Bluebird bullshit.

On the way out the door, she flicks a half-smoked cigarette into the server room trashcan to trigger the emergency sprinkler system. Whoops.

* * * * * * * * *

She never liked the company cars, anyway.

As the frame of the Mercedes rolls into the lake behind her (and with it all traces of her identity), Jennifer Roland makes her way through the Mount Massive Wilderness Reverse to the runoff reservoir. Armed with only an industrial flashlight-stun gun and her unlisted phone, she’s well aware that this mission will more than likely be her last. But when you’ve got nothing to lose and an insatiable hunger for vengeance, death doesn’t seem so bad.

Tucking her hair up under her cap and securing her phone in the zippered pocket of her plastic splash suit, she hoists herself up into the drainage pipe that pours into the lagoon from the sewers. The hospital isn’t even visible from this side of the mountain; according to her map, it’s about ten miles through a sea of blood, shit, and god knows what else to Mount Massive Asylum. If she’d ever wondered how Andy Dufresne felt escaping Shawshank, this is about as close as it gets.

Rats and snakes are her only company for the first several miles but in the last stretch of three, the scent of fresh death hits her like a brick wall. Mutilated corpses litter the pathways, slipping into the murky sewage and compounding the horrific stench. The closer she comes to her destination, the more pungent the odor becomes until she’s stumbling upon half-dead patients and doctors alike, as lifeless and miserable as the Temple Gate victims. The feeling of another impending migraine strikes her but she presses onward. She’s not sure what’s more unsettling: the gut-wrenching screams coming from above her head or the periodic gaps of silence between.

Drenched in blackwater, Jenny navigates her way up into the hospital block, only to be met with the gory sight of her colleagues and former patients strewed about the ward like discarded toys. She stands gravely still listening for anything — a scream, a whisper, a breath — but no sound breaks the stony silence. The only living presence in the block appears to be a few very persistent bees buzzing around her head. The doctor carefully peels away her suit and the clothes underneath, tucking them away in an air vent and replacing them with the least fluid-drench patient uniform she can find. Thank you for your sacrifice, 937.

Jenny’s exceedingly careful not to cause too much commotion with the beam of her flashlight as she stalks into the hospital security station and logs in under one of her former colleague’s ID. The security footage tapes appear to be highly corrupted, with some of the cameras shorting out completely, but through the hazy grey static, she can just make out a man’s shadow: impossibly tall, grainy, almost translucent, as though it were comprised solely of smoke. Shredding through its victims like razors through tissue paper. Clearly, this storm of fuck is just beginning.

“Ain’t a perdy sight, is it?”

Hot, humid breath hits the back of her neck before she can react and a spindly hand clamps down on her wrist.

“Not as perdy as them nails, brudder.”

“Don’t talk ‘im t’death. Get the goat and go.”

“Awful s-sorry ‘bout this, boy, but I gotsta.”

Jenny’s not keen to stick around to find out what exactly it is this dissociative man “gotsta” do. Firing up the switch on the stun gun, she jabs the pointed prongs into his throat and digs in. His grip on her tightens before it releases, the perp collapsing to the ground and clutching his bleeding neck with a frankly overdramatic gurgle.

Roland flees through a labyrinth of plastic wrap and broken gurneys, but the heavy slap of bare feet limping on the floor behind her soon catches up. And just as she looks over her shoulder to catch sight of him, her ankle snags against a tripwire, knocking her face-first into the bloodied tile. That fall triggers the release of two sheets of barbed wire that rattle towards her, coiling around her legs and torso; clearly, this trap was meant for a bigger monster than her. The barbs easily rip through the uniform fabric to sink into her thighs, calves, stomach. The more she wriggles, the deeper they sink, and the shards of shattered glass on the floor only amplify the pain.

Her only chance to protect herself is the flashlight that launched no more than a foot away during the fall. If she can just tear her arm free-

The arch of a dirty foot secures its grip on the flashlight handle.

“Just like a coward t’run. That won’t do at-tall, Dennis.”

“You shouldn’ta run, boy. Now you’ll be all bloody fer the weddin’.”

He picks up the flashlight and turns it over in his hand, checking the weight and feel of it; he decides he likes it.

He likes it even more when it cracks like a Louisville slugger against her temple.

* * * * * * * * *

Her muscles are stiff and achy when she regains consciousness, somehow sore and numb at the same time. The swelling beside her left eye blurs her vision slightly, but she knows she’s in some sort of chop shop, upright in a DIY-patient restraint system that would make even Hannibal Lecter shudder. Her instinct is to attempt another escape, to writhe her way out of these straps if she has to chew her shoulder off to do it. There’s no telling how much time she has before someone-

...Whistling.

#Eddie Gluskin: Lord Eddard of House Gluskin #Dennis: Goat Boy #Billy Hope: Anyway Here’s Walrider #Jeremy Blaire: Cokehead Elon Musk

18 notes · View notes