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guysmedical2 · 2 years

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medical stress test

#guys in hospital #stress test #cardiology #men in hospital #chest electrodes #wired men

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ghosts-bandwagon · 1 year

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Wish to see the boys(all of them) using or playing with the period cramp simulator, with the reader holding the remote, and yes it’s goes along with the period cramp scenario, please(and yes they all went to level 10, painfully)

The post they’re referencing is this one!

Ghost is fucking sweating, he’s trying so hard not to express outward discomfort because he’s seen you. He’s seen how strong you are and how you handle it so he tries to do the same. He’s gritting his teeth and clenching his jaw and manages to get to level 10. He’s nauseous, sweaty, antsy but he breathes through it as much as he can, but sweet Jesus fuck it hurts, he eventually doubles over and rips the electrode pads off of him, nauseous, breathing heavily and trying to catch his breath. He’s about to shoo away the heating pad you’re offering him before he thinks back to every time the roles were reversed and he gratefully albeit reluctantly accepts and let’s you press it against his lower abdomen. You’re gonna owe him for this.

Soap… I don’t think he can make it to 10 tbh he’s overconfident and definitely dug his own grave. I feel like he’d get to maybe 7 or 8 before he taps out, he’s gripping the chair and leaving indents in the material, almost has tears in his eyes by the time he taps out. Give him lots of love, he’ll need it after that.

Price uh, nah love I’m good. But he caves when you pout at him. He’s putting on a brave show but he’s sweating bullets by the time he gets to level 7, he’s laughing nervously, asking when it’ll be over and then you crank it to 10 and he’s paralyzed. The wind just gets punched out of his chest and when you’ve turned it off, he’s amazed that you deal with that once a month

Gaz, oh baby boy, just like Soap he talked a bit game, fully confident that he could handle it but he’s jittery and queasy by the time the machine hits level 6. He’s laughing nervously and trying to crack jokes but he’s interrupted mid-sentence by you cranking up the machine. He gets to 8 before he taps out.

König is hesitant to try it but he’ll do it for you. Dear god he regrets it immediately. It starts off as discomfort and he’s talking himself through it, and as the levels get higher and higher he’s struggling a little to keep talking through it. His hands are balled into fists on his knees, his jaw is tight as he wills himself to breathe through it. Once he’s at 9 or 10, he’s talking about how awestruck he is that you deal with this on a monthly basis. Talking is the only thing that’s helping him right now. Eventually you shut the machine off and he’s panting like he just ran a marathon, clutching his stomach and gratefully accepting the hot compress you’ve given him.

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #john price x reader #captain john price x reader #captain price x reader #gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle garrick x reader #könig x reader #konig x reader #cod x reader #mw2 x reader #cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod headcanons

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vivalabunbun · 1 year

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Late Spring Blooms

Summary: Not even one word had been spoken between the two of you

Word Count: 5.1K (this was supposed to be short...)

Tags: Alhaitham x gn! reader, slow burn, fluff, just a lot of fluff, slight angst, Akademiya setting, toxic academia environment, mentions of bullying, both of you are students, mutual pining, when you just stare at your crush for like 4 years but never talked to them.

Authors note: This was supposed to be a short feel-good fic, but I guess my brain just wanted to be a nerd. So I included some scientific theories that are kinda in debate, I just gave it my best shot. I write fiction not peer reviewed studies please forgive any mistakes

“A voltage is applied to two electrodes immersed in a solution of heavy water…”

All throughout the lecture hall there were the frantic movements of quills as desperate hands penned down every word that left the lecturer’s mouth. The fluttering of paper as students rushed to continue recording every detail, spurred by the fear of a question on exams yet to be announced.

Rather than immerse themselves in the lecture, they’d rather save the details for a stressful night before said hypothetical exam. Frankly, it was a waste of time.

“When the SuperWave Principle is applied, with raising and falling nested oscillations…”

Yes, this is a waste of time. A waste of his time. Alhaitham’s notebook and quill remained untouched on the desk in front of him. This course was nothing more than an elective to him, it had nothing to do with his own darshan. A class his late grandmother had listed in her well wishes to her grandson. However, Alhaitham would much rather prefer to be reading in the House of Daena.

“And that is the discovery behind cold fusion energy production. This achievement rewarded me with much academic praise and my position as a researcher. As it innovated a new path for clean and unlimited energy. Thank you.”

Applause erupted in the lecture hall, hands clapping together as forged looks of amazement masked ulterior motives. Alhaitham remained still, bored eyes continuing to observe the scholarly man as he stood at the podium. Even from the ashen-haired student’s perch among the upper seats, he can still see the swell of pride in the elder scholar’s chest. As the sea of green uniforms finally abated their praise, the professor step up to the podium.

“Are there any questions for our honored guest lecturer?”

The once bustling mob stilled. No quills moved, no papers rustled, and not a single student dared make eye contact dreading the thought of an unintentional invitation to speak. Of course, this was all expected. After all, which person would dare expose their own shortcomings?

Each and every person in the room was once praised to be la crème de la crème, the cream of the crop, the valedictorians that spoke prepared speeches to their peers they viewed as mediocre. They were all once the top one percent, showered with empty words such as ‘talented’ and ‘gifted’. However, at the Akademiya, where the best of the best had been vetted and admitted. How can everyone be that ‘one percent’?

It’s a simple answer. They can’t. Instead of spirits learning humility, they were crushed under the realization of reality. And just like a curious hand that had reached out towards a burning stove, their egos wounded and withdrew. If they cannot stand among the few slots at the top, then they’d rather hide among the ninety-nine percent. Listlessly carried by the flow of life, throwing their hands up to ‘fate’.

Once again, as Alhaitham’s bored eyes surveyed the room, he is reminded why he had put off attending the Akademiya until recently. It was quite ironic for such an esteemed institution to have such pathetic levels of academic spirit. People didn’t come here to learn, they came here to ‘know’ and for a decorated piece of paper to hang on their walls.

However, on the basis of the last part, Alhaitham saw himself as no different. This was a crucial stepping stone in the preplanned path he laid out for himself. Even if it was tedious, it must be done.

From the still crowd, one lone hand raised above, peeking out from the sea of green berets. It seems that even the professor didn’t anticipate this as a wrinkled hand gestured for the young budding scholar to speak.

“I’m amazed by your discovery, sir. However, does it really work? I don’t think I’ve seen a recreation of your experiment.”

The air in the lecture hall stilled, as hundreds of eyes honed in on the gear that dare squeak. The ego is quite fragile, and there is a positive correlation between the fragility of one's ego and the higher up their position is on the hierarchy. The scowl that formed on the guest’s face was predictable, as his haughty eyes glared at the fresh-faced student.

“It seems that some people are suffering from selective hearing, or perhaps you just couldn’t grasp the concepts I’ve spent the past two hours explaining.” Offense drip off of every word.

“But, according to standard practices, an experiment has to be rep-”

“Did the Akademiya just allow anyone in this year? My theory and discovery have already been entered into the akasha. Even a child can see the validity of my research.” The lecturer tapped one finger rapidly against the solid wood of the podium.

“Still, I beli-”

“Did you not hear me? My research has already been entered into the akasha.” He snapped, the peak of the microphone rang through the air.

“Sir, I-”

The professor raised his hand to silence the student, putting an end to this sorry excuse of an academic debate. The student’s figure sunk down in their seat, their seat neighbors scooting away as if there was something contagious. The show that had piqued the ashen-haired scholar’s interest had been abruptly halted. What a pity.

“Can you believe them? Who would ask such a stupid question?”

“‘Does it work?’, it’s been entered into the akasha for archon’s sake!”

“If I were them, I’d never show my face again at the Akademiya.”

Mindless gossip made his ears ring as a sigh left his lips, snapping the book closed in his hand. Alhaitham thought it was an unspoken rule that one must be silent in the House of Daena, guess common courtesy isn’t practiced much anymore. Carrying the book in one hand as he swung his bag over his shoulder he exits the library doors.

His academic journey at the Akademiya had only begun about a month ago with the start of a new semester, but he was already bored. Lectures dragged the same material on for days. Professors gave their unessential anecdotes to slip in their own self-praises, and the busy work they called assignments.

However, the worst part, for Alhaitham, was how his fellow students and aspiring scholars accepted everything. Sitting there in their seats back straight, hands busy creating a transcript of the entire lesson. Heads politely nodding as if they understood everything even though confusion was clear in their eyes. There were no academic discussions occurring in classes, and there were no attempts to encourage them.

What’s the point when everyone could just use the akasha for answers? It’s quite depressing to see such a lack of academic spirit.

Alhaitham has decided that he should return back to his own method of self-studying, just as he has done before. He can cut out the unnecessary material and focus on subjects that interest him. Paying the tuition just to learn everything on his own, is truly ironic.

However, as Alhaitham walks towards the empty pavilion he has to admit he is grateful for the facilities available at the Akademiya. It was a secluded space, quiet and away from chattering groups, students chasing after mentors and professors with half-heartedly written theses, and scholars’ boastful comments on the results of their experiments. Just as he rested his back against a pillar of the pavilion, he heard a muffled whimper.

Tsk, great, there’s someone here already. Alhaitham readjusted his bag on his shoulder, pushing off the pillar as he began his search once more for undisturbed peace. His teal eyes couldn’t help but wander toward the source of the sound. Sight landing on your crouched figure obscured by the thick trunk of the tree just behind the white structure. For a brief moment, your eyes locked with his, before you jolted your head away from his direction.

Cheeks stained with tears and face burning with shame. Yes, there is a famous saying that tends to ring true: The nail that stands out will get hammered. He recognizes you as the hand that dare raise a question.

Everyone at the Akademiya is fueled by their own self-interest, whether it be for greater knowledge, a higher future position at the institution, or to have their name printed on an accredited research project by a renowned scholar.

Weak egos tend to rally under bigger ones, feeding the latter with empty praises in hopes of a return on their investments. If they could find a footing that allows them to climb up the stairs of the hierarchy, then they were willing to step on anyone.

You just recently have been labeled as such, a stepping stone in order to get closer to a certain researcher. Tearing you down to build the bridges of connection with the reputable graduate. It was low-hanging fruit. How could a naive, freshly admitted student go against a published scholar with wealth and status?

You were the losing dog in this race. And yet, Alhaitham still wanted to applaud you, if not for your academic spirit then for your courage. However, it is clear from the way you were trying to make yourself as small as possible, you needed your privacy.

He focused his eyes on the path ahead of him, leaving the secluded space, his lips won’t speak a word of this event. A little further down the path, teal eyes shifted back behind him. Your hands were wiping the tears out of your eyes as you blinked, perplexed by the sudden appearance of a neatly folded green handkerchief. Alhaitham sees it as a fair trade for piquing his bored mind.

“Excuse me, do you have a translation of the book: Khaenri'ahan Theory of Nuclear Fusion and Practices?”

A familiar voice shifted Alhaitham’s attention away from the text he was translating, perhaps his mind took it as an excuse for his eyes to take a break from the barely legible script. You would think with all the funds the Akademiya had, they would be able to provide students with good-quality copies, but the printed assignment in front of him disproves that notion. It’s not good to strain the eyes.

Once more teal eyes landed on your figure, back straight and head still held up high. You have more courage than Alhaitham originally thought. Despite the mocking sneers that have been thrown your way in the halls, you’ve just faced forward and continued down your way. Currently, you were asking for the assistance of a disinterested librarian.

She brings one hand up to her akasha terminal, eyes lazily gazing at the information that flowed in front of her. Then after less than two minutes of searching, she stops.

“No. Never heard of it. It’s not in the system.”

“It’s an old title, but according to the library catalog, it should-”

“Did you not hear me? I just checked the akasha and it says it’s not here. Maybe you should make use of that terminal collecting dust on your ear before you come wasting my time.” The librarian cut you off rudely. Readjusting the green beret on her brown hair before she turned her back on you.

The hand you reached out towards her drops to your side, your shoulders slouched a bit. There were now peering eyes focused on you, stressed students viewing your embarrassment and dejection as a welcomed dose of entertainment. Taking a deep breath you quickly made your way back in the direction of the dusty library catalog. Determined to find that book.

The librarian had stated a blatant lie, how does Alhaitham know? The book Khaenri'ahan Theory of Nuclear Fusion and Practices was right under his resting elbow.

You were right, it is an old book, so old that it seems that someone had forgotten to input it into the updated database of the akasha. Or maybe someone removed it, deeming it no longer academically relevant. His elbow was now resting on the book he had just finished hours earlier, it was a better use of his time than attending mindless lectures.

You seemed busy flipping through the pages of the library catalog, and the script in front of him is due tomorrow. He’ll finish his assignment, it's the least he could do to just ensure his passing of a class that hasn’t seen his face for some time now.

–

It was late now, your eyes were beginning to droop head nodding back and forth. You shook your head, desperately trying to fight off sleep, eyes peeled on the text in front of you. Your attempts to find the book had been fruitless, but you were able to find different academic journals that substituted the same subject.

You didn’t need sleep, you needed to satisfy that itching feeling inside your mind. That inkling that what that lecturer had said was… the words in front of you blurred.

Maybe a quick nap would help boost your productivity.

–

Your eyes snapped open as your body jolted up. How long were you asleep? Your eyes surveyed the library. All around you were either passed out fellow students at their seats, or those running on nothing but caffeine and stress frantically pressing their noses against the books and papers in front of them. There were fewer people here than before you shut your eyes, signaling to you that it has gotten later.

Your lips pressed into a tight line, did you just lose more precious time? The thought of assignment due dates was pressing against the back of your mind. But you just had to get to the bottom of this, it just doesn’t make sense to you-

Your eyes widened at what had appeared in front of your seat. Khaenri'ahan Theory of Nuclear Fusion and Practices. But how? You had looked high and low, even breaking library regulations by climbing on the tall ladders to search the very tops.

Your head whipped around, searching for an explanation. Your eyes were just able to catch the slightest glimpse of a familiar shade of grey and green exiting the grand doors of the House of Daena.

There was a small note on top of the book.

I had the book you were looking for. There’s a diagram that wasn’t translated properly. On page 520, the diagram says: ‘maintaining temperatures of over 100 million degrees are necessary while regulating pressure and magnetic forces at the same time. These conditions are for stable confinement of the plasma and to maintain the fusion reaction long enough to produce more energy than what was required to start the reaction.’ Hope this helps.

It was silly really, or maybe your tired mind was just getting sentimental, but your sight began to blur again. Not with sleep this time, your eyes were overflowing with tears. This small note, the neat handwriting, the book you had been searching for.

They were the sweet hands of reassurance you needed on your shoulder. Smiling like an idiot through your tears, you hid your face behind the small note.

“How long exactly are they going to continue to deny the facts? Jeez, I wish I had their simple mind sometimes.”

“Yeah, it must be nice to have your head buried in the rabbit hole of ignorance.”

It was now a new year, a fresh semester had long begun, but unfortunately, reputation and stigma don’t have a simple shelf life of just a year. Once more, Alhaitham found that silence in the House of Daena is not seen as a requirement by some students. Mindless gossip had no place in a sanctuary of high academia, but it looks like his opinion isn’t shared.

Alhaitham had woken up later than he would’ve liked, meaning he didn’t have time to pick up any coffee if he wanted to get to his test on time. After he had finished, he made an effort to get to the café as fast as he could. But when he got there, he saw a sign announcing the café was closed for the day.

In short, Alhaitham was having a bad day, the grating voices that continued to chatter beside him were only fraying his thinning patience even more.

Frustrated, his eyes followed their line of sight, to see just what subject was so pressing they had to gossip in a place of study and silence. They lead him to your figure, hunched over a thick book, one finger tracing each sentence line by line and the other detailing notes.

Even with the stacks of books that surrounded your desk blocking some of your frame, he could see your face clearly. Although you were trying to maintain a neutral expression, he caught onto the small quivering of your lips.

“Like the information is already in the akasha, do they think they’re smarter than the combined knowledge of all of Sumeru?”

“Yeah, well it’s always the stupidest people that speak the loudest-”

“You two are quite loud.”

The students that sat beside him snapped their attention towards the man who had returned his eyes back to his book.

“Excuse me?”

“This is the House of Daena, the largest library in all of Teyvat, and you’re being loud. Maybe you should immerse yourselves in some books, for the academic spirit.”

“Jeez, we weren’t even that loud, and the akasha-”

“What poor academic spirit. If the akasha was all you needed, then you are no better than any passing stranger on the streets. Why did you even bother with the entrance exam?”

It wasn’t like Alhaitham to engage in such unnecessary conversation, nor make any excess problems for himself by getting in the bad graces of strangers. However, he was already having a bad day.

The two friends sneered at him, before getting up and leaving the library. Finally, he can enjoy some silence. He could feel your gaze on him, but he didn’t look up to see the soft stare of amazement and gratitude you were sending his way.

–

Alhaitham had gotten up briefly to browse the shelves once again. He had finished his book and am now looking for another to pique his interest. Really, the akasha couldn’t hold the vast amount of unspoken knowledge that books had.

The blunt facts and figures the terminal provided didn’t stimulate his mind the way shifting through the lines and characters printed on books did. It was truly a pity that the nation of wisdom didn’t appreciate the pinnacle vessel of information.

When he had returned to his desk, teal eyes took note of the small square of baklava placed gently on a napkin. Beside it was the green handkerchief, neatly folded. Alhaitham had already gotten a replacement for said item.

Yet seeing how pristine the fabric was even after a year of not seeing it, sentiment crept up on him.

“Excuse me. Food is not allowed in the House of Daena. I’m going to ask you to leave.”

Ah, of course. Alhaitham was having a bad day today.

It’s been a long month. With Summer break quickly approaching, it meant that assignments and exams have been crammed by every professor into a short window. Their long tangents must have caught up to them, as they were now pushing the responsibility of tying up the loose ends onto the students. Pathetic really.

Still, the weather today was clear and the air warm. The bright sun was being blocked out by the thick foliage present on the branches of the tree Alhaitham rested his body against. He had spent the morning finishing all his most pressing assignments. A break was deserved.

The soft rustle of leaves as the wind sway their branches were starting to lull the young man to sleep. But the sudden sound of grass getting flattened under shoes snatched that pleasure away.

Tsk, it doesn’t matter. If he leaves his eyes shut and breaths steady then the other person will sooner or later leave him alone. The steps approached a bit closer then stopped just a bit away. He could hear the rustling of a paper bag and another object getting placed near his side.

As quietly as they could, the footsteps trotted away in a hurry. Once he felt that presence disappear, he lifted his eyelids.

Beside him there was a brown paper bag, the mouth-watering scent of a shawarma wrap wafted into his nose. And the other object? A cup of hot coffee with a small note taped to it.

I’m so so so sorry for getting you in trouble that time in the House of Daena! Please take this as an apology! I got the most popular combination at the shop. Please take care of yourself and good luck with your exams!

P.S. I just wanted to apologize again for getting you in trouble!!

Alhaitham could practically hear the sheer panic and anxiety from the piece of paper. Still, his eyes couldn’t help but soften. He was never the type to hold on to pointless grudges, there was no need for you to agonize over such a minuscule event.

Contradicting his original plans for a nap, he took a sip of the hot coffee. It must be a different blend of coffee beans or a new experimental brewing method, the plain black coffee tasted pleasantly sweet on his tongue.

“Did you hear? I can’t believe it.”

“Yeah, he was a fraudster! I heard he got stripped of his title and even his diploma got rescinded!”

“I… I can’t believe they were right all along.”

In the middle of Alhaitham’s third year at the Akademiya, the unfathomable happened. A young student that had yet to even graduate, a mere third year in the middle of their studies, had disproven an accepted theory. A theory that had gone through vetting by the top review boards, and even entered into the akasha.

After years of long nights and shifting through books long forgotten by scholars, you brought all your evidence and conclusions to the Akademiya review board.

You wagered your entire academic carrier.

Your gamble paid out in full. Your findings were significant enough that the board called for an investigation, for another independent experiment of cold fusion to be replicated. A team of other esteemed researchers was established.

They followed every strict protocol for peer review, following each and every document step by the once haughty researcher to his experiment and theory to the highest standard of academic rigor.

Their conclusion after a four-month trial? Failed experiment after failed experiment to replicate his results? There was no cold fusion.

This caught the attention of the Matra. For all these years where did those experimental results come from? If his research funds were not going toward creating a better and more effective method of using cold fusion to generate unlimited energy. Then where was it? Their findings?

Back into the pockets of a few seats on the review board. Funds somehow found themselves in the hands of scholars that had ‘peer reviewed’ his theory the first time around.

A report from the previously mentioned independent review team detailed his offer of exorbitant amounts of mora for skewed results. That was the final nail in the coffin of his academic carrier.

It was a great loss of face for the higher-ups and for their esteemed institution. They had let fraudulent nonsense enter the akasha, they allowed this nonsense to poison the minds of civilians and students. Punishment was swift. The higher up on the hierarchy of ego you were, the more crushing the fall will be.

Now it was he, the lecturer who had ridiculed you with his eager followers for years, who was ostracized from higher academia.

–

Alhaitham’s eyes followed the noisy crowd as they congregated around your frame. First years watching you with stars in their eyes, questions were thrown your way, asking just how you did it. How did you know? Your eyes light up the same way, as you detailed your research process of debunking that theory.

Overnight, you became a star at the Akademiya. The same people who had once sneered at you were now trying to push their way through the crowd to get your attention. The professors that once viewed you as their most hopeless student, were now asking you to become their mentee. You treated everyone the same without any reservations. Smile beaming as you answered their questions.

“Well, even though I have disproven his theory on cold fusion. I still think it’s an interesting path to explore. Maybe we were just led astray by a red herring. However, I think the most important lesson to gain from this controversy is that every theory should be viewed with some level of skepticism. Until you see the theory actually be put into practice, how will you ever confirm for yourself.”

You have a really radiant smile, Alhaitham notes. It suits you.

It’s too noisy in the halls of the Akademiya. He turns to walk away. Missing the way your searching eyes followed him, lips parted wanting to call out to him. Only to be drowned by the shower of empty words of praise.

“You’re such a gifted student!”

“Wow! I wish I was as talented as you!”

“You’re just a genius!”

Words that dismissed your years of sleepless nights, tearful breakdowns from pressure, and aching wrists from penning down pages upon pages of notes.

Ah, the Akademiya was still the Akademiya. Even your breakthrough that shook the institution isn’t enough to spark a change in the environment that had been solidified in the marble of the building. Your eyes still followed this tall figure even after he disappeared from your line of sight.

Yes, there still was a gust of fresh air that blew through this stale toxicity. You only knew his name… does he even know yours?

It’s finally over, the tedious task of attending the Akademiya has been completed.

Alhaitham can now check that achievement off his list. The collaborative project he had been a part of might have fallen through. But the findings it produced in its short lifespan were fruitful. So much so that it granted Alhaitham a position as a Scribe and a sizable house in the city. More currently, it allowed Alhaitham to meet the last requirement for graduation.

The diploma he holds in his hands right now was the result of his diligence, of just passing every exam with the highest marks despite not attending the class after the first day. Yes, this is the piece of paper he had ‘worked’ so hard for.

All around him, there were families hugging, crying, and congratulating their sons and daughters, sisters and brothers, for graduating. Promises of big feasts prepared at home, or for a celebration in the neighborhood. Friends hugged each other as they said their tearful goodbyes.

Alhaitham stood alone.

From the very start, he was a loner, he knew this and he liked it this way. So why does his chest feel a bit heavy? The path that he had preplanned had no obstacles lining the way, every piece fell where it should have. Alhaitham already knows the answer, but he doesn’t want to admit it.

Joyous occasions can really bring out the most isolating sentiments when there was no one to celebrate with. But that is fine, he’s got boxes of books to pack anyways.

“Um… Excuse me, Alhaitham?”

A voice halts the ashen-haired man’s step. Teal-orange eyes landed their sights on yours. You were dressed in your graduation robes as well, and a decorated cord hung around your shoulders. Signifying your academic accomplishments during your years as a student. Despite the nervousness in your voice, hands fidgeting with the brown paper bag clutched between them, your eyes looked straight into his.

“T-this is for you. It’s a pita pocket from Lambard’s tavern. I… I just wanted to thank you for, well, all you’ve done. I-i know we actually haven’t spoken a word to each other these past few years but- but…” You paused, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath.

“Your gestures of kindness and empathy really kept me going. Even during the times when I wanted to give up, your actions really meant a lot to me. So, thank you Alhaitham.” Your eyes were staring back at him with pure sincerity.

The warm late Spring air blew across your faces, tussling his locks as his eyes shifted from the pita pocket in your hands back to your eyes. The slight quivering of your lips signaled to him the anxious wait for his response.

“Now’s not the place to eat.”

“O-oh…” The bag in your hands lowered.

“However, I believe if you were to accompany me to Lambad’s Tavern, I don’t think he’ll deny a paying customer a seat. So, how about it?” The boxes at home could wait.

“Oh?” You looked at him a bit perplexed at the sudden invitation. But it wasn’t long before a beaming smile broke out on your face.

“Yes, I would love to!”

It could have been due to the sweet air, or due to the lustrous look that dawned on your face, but Alhaitham felt that he could breathe easier now.

It was a sunny afternoon, the perfect weather to do nothing at all. His justification for leaving his desk, piled high with new proposals and applications. Without even looking up from his book Alhaitham could sense the presence approaching his direction. His free hand reached up to turn off noise canceling, there was only one person who would come to find him at this secluded pavilion.

“Haitham! I got us lunch from Lambad’s Tavern, the special was pita pockets today!” You held a brown takeout bag over your head, one hand cupping your mouth as you called out to him.

His expression couldn’t help but soften, seeing your figure rapidly closing the distance between the both of you. Your preppy steps stopped just in front of the tall scholar, a small smile gracing your lips as you hid the bag behind your back. Eyes looking at him with anticipation as your back straightened.

Alhaitham closed his eyes as a soft sigh left his lips, snapping the book in his hands closed as his back pushed off the pillar. Taking a few slow steps to fully close the distance. Gentle fingers cupped your cheek as he leaned down to place a tender kiss just below your eye. He can feel you getting on the tips of your toes, pressing your face more into his lips, he knows you can feel the small smile against your cheek.

Pulling his face back, thumb still brushing against your other cheek, his teal eyes observed your smile that rivaled the sun.

“Thank you for the payment, now let’s eat before the lettuce gets all soggy.” You pressed a kiss against his palm. The brown bag reappears from behind you.

“Yes, of course.” He wanted to observe your face for a little while longer.

Perhaps you should start researching the energy that radiates off your smile, Alhaitham is willing to wager that this hypothesis holds more water than any dismissed notions of cold fusion.

Fin~

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blyssful-abyss · 2 years

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ohhhhhh to be hooked up to a gooning machine all spread out and tied tight, unable to move except for the barest bit of squirming i can manage from the neverending edging. in my mind, there’s vibrating suction on my clit that changes in intensity to keep me right fucking there, so close to cumming, as well as a thick dildo drilling my cunt, mercilessly rubbing my sensitive walls in all the right ways. it would be an excellent bonus if i had electrodes on my thighs, my stomach, my chest, all to keep me thoroughly stimulated enough so that i lose my mind… i would love to be on this machine for hours, godddd yessss, maybe even blindfolded, oh so helpless to do anything other than take it and break… nnnnngngghhh please 😣

#slytalks #nsft txt #edging nsft #goon and edge #denial kink #edging kink #fuck please #i want this so bad #mind break #edgeslut #edging machine

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chiharuuu22 · 2 months

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I always liked the classic scene about Whumpee waking up in the hospital bed after being unconscious for a long time.

Whumpee must be confused about his current location and frightened by all the medical equipment attached to his body. Of course, Whumpee will struggle and try to remove it, whether it's the electrodes on his chest or the tube in his mouth. At least the ones that are easy for him to reach.

Then, Caretaker will hold Whumpee's hand and try to talk to him. Reassure him until Whumpee calms down and realizes that he is safe and understands that all the medical equipment that makes him uncomfortable is what he needs for now.

(Ah, I can get excited reading it. Is there anything you want to add?)

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ecgekg · 2 years

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ready for a 12-lead

#ecg #ekg #electrocardiogram #male heartbeat #chest electrodes #medfet

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hemipenal-system · 4 months

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sometimes kissing your robot girl is stroking her soft faceplate and holding her in your arms

sometimes it’s holding the thin canister against your lips as the long, slick silicone tongue probes curiously between your teeth, tiny electrodes pulsing gently and sending signals through the mass of wires that lay across your chest and run down next to your legs, up into the massive boxy computer sitting on your desk

#robot girl #tongueposting

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grox · 3 months

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Joe Biden when Kamala rips the electrodes off his chest and starts sounding him while he still got the catheter in

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heartbeatsnice · 6 months

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Visibly Beating

Soft beeps accompanied by wet thuds fill a room. A room where a single occupant resides upon a surgical table.

A handsome man in his early thirties, with a broad chest and shoulders as well as a firm stomach bare naked for the world to see rests there strapped down for what is to come. Clearly, this man works out regularly and the results show.

A perfect specimen for their experimental drug.

Hooked up to IVs feeding him with painkillers and electrodes pasted all over his chest and two more on the source of the thudding. There, cut open and pulled out for the world to see, is his heart. Beating away exposed, each beat slapping against his pec.

The subject lays there, awake and panting as oxygen fills his lungs from the mask strapped over his mouth and nose.

“Starting with starter drug No. 1.” A feminine voice speaks up over the beeping and thumping of his heart. Feeling gloved fingers wrapping around his heart and gently being picked up, he feels a prick as a needle is slowly stabbed into the myocardium and the contents injected.

Dark veins started to protrude all over his chest, his heart starting to pump harder and faster. He groans, the apex of his heart punching the air as it slams away. “Inserting main drug No. 328.”

Another pinprick into his powerful heart and he starts to gasp as the muscular organ only speeds up.

“Heart rate up at 195 BPM and increasing.”

Will his heart give out then? Or will it continue beating on, fighting for its life?

But before his heart could reach an conclusion, the mysterious doctor gives one. Clenching her hand around the thumping heart, she squeezes hard enough to make it balloon between her slender fingers.

Alarms rang out as the pressure on his sensitive heart is too much. With one last exhale, his heart sinks into an fibrillating mess, his vision going grey and his senses dull.

A whining fills the air, and the doctor leans in smiling as she holds two internal paddles up for him to witness. “Don’t quit on me now.” Giving a few squeezes on his heart with the metal spoons, she presses the paddles tightly and with the press of a button, his vision goes white as he feels his heart lurch forward.

Will this do it? Will this get his heart going again?

Or does it need an extra push?

#cardiophile #cardiophilia #dark cardiophilia #heart #male heartbeat #dark resus #resus #heartbeat

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hwsing · 6 months

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overstimulation

notes: 18+, reader is afab and gender neutral. includes: germany (ludwig beilschmidt), japan (kiku honda). as always, reblogs are appreciated!

cw: dom/sub themes; vibrator (ludwig); bondage (ludwig); electrodes (ludwig); wax play (kiku)

☆ ludwig

in what ways would ludwig not overstimulate you? to say he has a curious mind is an understatement — he has thought about so many scenarios, all of which end up with you practically brain dead — albeit hesitant and even shy, he would never have a shortage of methods on how to overwhelm you.

he can feel his palms sweat as he spreads your thighs — his eyes trail up your body, watching intently as the pads of the electrodes send shocks against your nipples. quiet, pitchy whines catch in your throat every time, and it catches his attention; his gaze meets yours, and he swallows thickly at the sight. your brows are pinched and you look like you’re trying — and failing — to stay quiet, to stay composed. he wants nothing more than to see you lose yourself.

“relax, liebling.” he says compellingly. despite his soft tone, there is an underlying of sternness — it was a command. his hands, stronger than you could ever begin to imagine, move your knees to rest on his shoulders as he looks down at your fluttering cunt. you were tied by your wrists attached to the bedposts. and, you were already nearly soaked to the bone; he would never dare underprep you. he knew the stretch of his cock was enough to have you gasping and digging your nails down the line of his spine. he already spent what felt like a century with a vibrator against your clit, and it was for that reason he was able to push into you with such ease, gripping your hips as your needy pussy sucks him in; you moan loudly, tears threatening to fall from your eyes. you look at him, and even now as he controls the pace, his reddened face betrayed him — his expression wouldn’t say so, but he could feel how he struggled, just as you do.

as much as ludwig was a man who preached patience, it wasn’t long before his hips slammed against yours, feeling overwhelmed at how overwhelmed you were. you looked pathetic beneath him, left only with the option to submit to the feeling of his cock plumping relentlessly into you and the literal shocks zapping against your chest. his cock twitched inside you, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to last long as you fought against your binds and cried, back arching almost impossibly into him. he’d take care of you — of course he would; his attention and devotion was completely forfeited to you as you allowed him to fuck you like this.

☆ kiku

he has experience in the human body’s limits — just not as personal, or intimate, as this calls for. still, kiku can’t help but wonder how you would handle scenarios that would test you; and, as the pathetic loser he is, he has seen his fair share of porn and has likely tried this before. still, he wants to see you, and your skin — and how the both of you handle things.

he kindly let you relax, sitting between your legs; he told you to stay as still as you could, and you agreed — but now, as you watched him angle the candle above you, you weren’t so sure you could. his other hand was busy inside you, softly rubbing against your velvety walls with precision while his thumb worked circles against your clit. he had already made you cum twice — he wanted for the wax to almost startle your dazed body. you already imagined how it might feel — and when it finally came, you couldn’t help but involuntarily flinch. the wax was almost painfully hot against your bare skin, and you took a shallow breath.

“did that hurt?” he asks, almost plainly as his dark eyes flickered up to look at you; you swallow and you hesitate on what to say. his fingers never stop, even as he stares. the heat of the wax came again, seeming even hotter this time, and you shook your head no as you did you best not to squirm. all kiku did was hum quietly in acknowledgment, looking to the wax now littering your skin. your soft moans at the contact had him feeling rock solid in his pants, but that wasn’t really on his mind now — he only focused on you.

you tilt your head back, panting through quieted moans as the wax continues to drip onto your pliable skin. your brain felt foggy as a knot tangled in your lower stomach — the burn of the wax had distracted you from what was, up until now, dull pleasure building inside you. ever observant, kiku’s thumb pressed firmer against your clit, and your legs nearly kicked out. your hole clenched around his fingers, and soon enough another orgasm was rippling through you — it lasted longer than usual as he worked you through it, a satisfied smile tugged at his lips. that didn’t mean he was done, though — no, no. he only just brought the wax out, after all!

#my work #hetalia #aph hetalia #hetalia hc #hetalia headcanons #hetalia x reader #aph germany #germany x reader #aph japan #japan x reader #ludwig beilschmidt #kiku honda #hetalia x you

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piratekane · 1 year

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7! Ava telling Bea that🫠🫠

seven: look at me. just breathe.

Ava looks small. She always has, despite feeling larger than life. But in a wide hospital bed with wires running from her body to the various beeping machines, she looks smaller than she did before she slipped through the Arc.

Before you sent her through it.

Beatrice stands at the edge of the doorway, wringing her hands as Jillian flutters around Ava with purposeful hands. Ava looks tired, but impossibly cheerful as Jillian puts another electrode pad on her exposed skin. She keeps stealing glances at the doorway, keeps ducking her head to meet Beatrice’s eyes, and always frowning a little when Beatrice gives nothing away.

She’s afraid to step forward, afraid to meet Ava’s eyes. What if this is a dream? What if she’s fallen asleep and woken up in a dream world where everything has magically fallen into place? Ava escaping Reya’s realm the moment Beatrice crosses the threshold of Cat’s Cradle? It’s too… perfect. It slots together too neatly.

She can’t cross the threshold because she might wake up in a hotel room somewhere - Cinque Terre, Faro, Lisbon - and this has all been a trick of the mind, a quiet torturous place her mind has found.

“Beatrice?”

Jillian touches her arm gently, trying not to startle her. Beatrice holds onto herself, a sharp inhale the only thing that gives her surprise away. But either Jillian doesn’t hear or she’s too kind to bring attention to it. She simply gives Beatrice a kind smile and slight tilt of her head. A quiet, she’s asking for you.

Beatrice searches for the part of her that’s always stood tall in the face of adversity. It wasn’t always there, grown out of a necessity, but it activates now as she takes that first step into the room on feet that feel steadier than her heart does. The live wire edge in her chest fizzles a little when she sees the way Ava’s face lights up as she moves closer and her hesitation simply vanishes.

Ava smiles wider. “Hi.”

Hi feels too small. Hey feels too informal. I’ve been thinking of you every minute of every day for the last nine months and you’re a ghost haunting all of my waking moments and sleeping ones too and I think I’ve been waiting for you my whole life feels too big.

She settles for a quiet, “Hello.”

Ava’s nose wrinkles. “Hello,” she echoes, pitching her voice slightly deeper. A clumsy attempt at mimicking her accent. She blinks up at Beatrice expectantly. “Anything else?” she asks after a moment.

“You’re back.” Everything else she wants to say sticks in her throat.

“I am.” Ava tips her head curiously, keen eyes studying her. Beatrice wonders if she sees the new highlights in her hair, the added years Beatrice sees when she looks at herself in the mirror. “I mean, I wasn’t expecting a party, or anything. Maybe a banner or a cupcake. Though, I get that it was kind of an impromptu arrival and there wasn’t a lot of time to plan. I mean, it’s not like you guys have a ‘Welcome Back to Earth’ banner on hand, right?” She pauses again. “I was expecting more than hello, though.”

Restraint, Beatrice, her mother used to tell her. Show some restraint. When she spoke out of turn, became too excited - it was always whip-sharp eyes in her direction, reminding her to practice some self-discipline. Ava, on the other end of the long spectrum between what is expected and what isn’t, is the least restrained person Beatrice has ever met.

Beatrice, months separated from Ava’s influence, struggles to find a middle ground.

“Seriously.” Ava laughs. She sounds nervous. “They didn’t, like, replace you with a pod person or anything, did they?” Her eyes widen. “Is this some kind of alternate reality where people are different? Are you really Beatrice? Or are you her evil twin? Is this world run by toads? I had a dream once where there was a toad king who demanded we all speak in ribbits. Or is it croaks? Hey, can you look up the sound toads make? I think I missed that science lesson.”

“Ava,” Beatrice breathes. Fond exasperation is easy to fall into.

Ava grins rakishly. “Ah, there she is.”

Beatrice opens her mouth to scold her, to tell Ava that she’s not as funny as she thinks she is, but she’s horrified when a single sob loosens from somewhere in the back of her throat and explodes into the space between them.

They both look startled at the sound, but Ava recovers quicker than she does. She curses softly when she tries to move, wires tangling up around her wrists. She starts to try and move them out of her way, her legs swinging over the side of the bed as she starts to inch towards Beatrice. She looks up, forehead pulled together in frustration. “Hold- just hold on.”

Beatrice claps her hand down over her mouth, trying to stop the next horrible sound that comes out of it. She holds out her other hand, trying to tell Ava to stay back. No, no, no. This isn’t how this was supposed to go.

Ava curses again, louder and in Portuguese this time, as another wire comes undone and loops its way around her arm instead. “I swear to fucking God and all her shitty decisions that if this thing doesn’t- Ha!” She wiggles out of one wire, then a second. She smiles triumphantly at Beatrice but that wrinkle in her forehead hasn’t faded away.

Something starts beeping as Ava disconnects the next wire. There’s a moment where they both stand, suspended as they wait for Ava to suddenly collapse onto the floor, that one wire the only thing keeping her up. But nothing comes and Ava must decide that it’s the all-clear; she starts pulling at wires until they disconnect, creating a cacophony of noise that feels like a mis-paced symphony.

“Hold on, hold on,” Ava is muttering as she pulls the last wire free. She’s suddenly in front of Beatrice, hands out in front of her carefully. “Hey, Bea.”

Beatrice’s eyes dart around the room. It’s starting to narrow to a pinprick, the lights spinning around. Ava is the only thing staying still, her focal part as the rest of the room rushes in on her. Another sob starts to build in her throat but it gets stuck there, forming into a hard knot that makes it hard to swallow around.

Breathe, she tells herself. Just take a breath.

“Look at me. Just breathe,” Ava says quietly. She takes a hesitant step forward. “I think- Bea, I think you’re having a panic attack.”

Beatrice tries to shake her head. She tries, but she’s not sure that she does. Her body feels far away, like she’s swimming underwater from one end of an endless pool to the other. The beeping of the machines distorts into a heartbeat, but that might just be the blood rushing in her ears. She tries to inhale and chokes on that knot.

“Okay, just follow my voice.” Ava sounds closer, but Beatrice can’t quite say how close she is. The room is starting to stretch out like a funhouse mirror. “Bea, uh, okay. Okay. I’m going to touch you. I know, you might freak out. But I’m going to put my hands on your hands, okay? Just like… just like this.”

She feels something cool and soft land on the wrist of her outstretched arm. It becomes a focal point. She focuses all of her energy there, all of her remaining senses rush to the spot where Ava’s fingertips curl around her pulse point.

Ava makes a noise that sounds like a hum just under the hot whistle of air in Beatrice’s ears. “Good. Now the other hand.”

Another cool hand touches hers, pulling it away from her mouth. She lets her world dial down to just the feather-light touch of Ava’s hand tangling with hers, lets herself focus in on the soft pads of Ava’s fingers running over the silvery scars on her hands. Each brush against her knuckle breaks down the knot in her throat until she can take in a ragged breath, then another, then one more.

The world begins to expand again - light filtering back in, the beeping stretching out into its asynchronous rhythm, the slightly sterile smell of clean cotton on the hospital bed. She focuses all of her attention on Ava, though. On the soft soothing noises Ava is making, the heat coming off her body as she gets closer, the strange patterns Ava is rubbing into her wrist.

“Hey,” Ava says quietly in the spaces between the beeping. “Hey, there you are.”

“I’m sorry,” she croaks, graceless.

Ava’s eyes are wide, but kind as they come into focus. Beatrice could count the inches between them on two hands. “You don’t need to apologize. I don’t think either of us expected this.”

“I should have.” She inhales again, the exhale a little steadier. “I should have been expecting this.”

“Beatrice, I mean this in the nicest way.” Ava ducks her head just a little, meeting her gaze directly. “This is a compliment, okay? You are not perfect. You cannot anticipate everything. And you shouldn’t be expected to do that. So it’s okay, alright? It’s okay that you didn’t anticipate some scientific marvel spitting me back into reality. I think I can forgive you for that, hmm?”

“Okay,” she whispers, not believing it entirely. But Ava looks so convincing, she lets the idea sit and tries to believe it could be true. “I’m-”

“Don’t apologize,” Ava says quickly. “This is a no-sorry party. Apologies department is closed for… the rest of eternity. No need to leave a message.” She strokes her thumb against the back of Beatrice’s hand before her eyes widen in mock-surprise. “Maybe this is an alternate reality where I’m not funny anymore.”

“Your jokes were always mediocre at best,” she manages.

Ava grins. “She speaks. And she lies.” Ava’s expression softens and she pulls until Beatrice can count the inches on one hand now. They’re nearly nose to nose and Beatrice can see the thin skin over Ava’s collarbone, just a little more pronounced this close up. “You’re okay.”

Beatrice takes in a slow, measured breath. “You’re here,” she exhales.

“All 238 bones of me.” Ava’s mouth falls into a serious line. “I’m including teeth, of course.”

She can’t help the laugh that bubbles up from her unexpectedly. Get control of yourself, her mother’s voice hisses. But Ava is looking at her, pleased. It sends her mother to the back of her head, back behind Ava’s smile.

“You had your wisdom teeth removed,” she reminds Ava gently.

Ava’s mouth falls open slightly. “How did you-” Her eyes narrow, but she’s smiling. “No stone unturned for you people, hmm? I bet Sister Frances kept those teeth, too. You know, Diego and I always thought she had some kind of creepy collection of, like, teeth and hair. She seemed the type.” Her fingers start working over Bea’s hands and up towards her elbows as she carefully starts to guide them around her back.

“Ava,” Beatrice tries.

“I don’t know about you,” Ava says quietly. “I don’t know how long it’s been since-”

“Too long,” Beatrice breathes. Eight months, twenty-three days, and somewhere around three hours, she doesn’t say out loud.

“But it’s been even longer for me,” Ava finishes. “And, I’ll be honest, okay? I really missed Mother Superion and Camila and, yeah, okay, parts of Lilith. But you were the only thing that kept me going. So I’m going to hug you and you’re going to hug me and then I’m going to pass out, if that’s okay with you?”

Beatrice startles a little, their forehead nearly knocking as she grabs Ava tightly and holds her against her body. Ava seems to sigh into the hug, her forehead dropping into the curve of Beatrice’s neck, her hands gripping the back of Beatrice’s shirt tight enough to crease the carefully ironed fabric. She grows heavy nearly instantly and Beatrice almost sways under the sudden weight.

“I’m-”

“Shut up,” Ava murmurs. Beatrice feels the words more than she hears them. “Just, be quiet, okay? I’ve been imagining this for years.”

Years, she thinks. But she goes quiet again, pressing her lips to Ava’s hair. She breathes in something bleach-like, like the ozone burning. She carefully inches forward, Ava’s abandoned bed her destination. She can hear her heart beating against her rib cage, but Ava’s own heart seems to be answering in its own language.

She starts to loosen her grip on Ava, intending to convince her that she should lay back down, let Beatrice reattach all of the wires monitoring her vitals, let Beatrice go and find Jillian to make sure they didn’t mess everything up. But when she goes to loosen her grip, Ava hangs on.

“Don’t,” Ava whispers. “Don’t let go yet.”

Beatrice holds on tighter; doesn’t tell Ava she has no intention of ever letting go again.

#warrior nun #avatrice #ava silva #sister beatrice #tw: panic attack #this is just an entire fic i am sorry #beatrice needs a break okay?#i might use this again in a larger fic tbh because it immediately gave me a hundred ideas #but hey it's my writing so i can do what i want #*said in my 7-year-old's voice*#anyway writing this was a lot out of me #i hope if you read it you enjoy it

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