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bisayawa · 1 year

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the caretaker's side ; alejandro vargas/fem! reader

― sickfic, hurt/comfort, fluff, tiniest bit of angst

― reader is fem, regarded as sampaguita (a fragrant flower native to tropical asia), she/her pronouns used

warning: icky sickness stuff, vomiting, coughing, pills, capsules, crying.

note: i don't think this is anything, just recalling what i've experienced when skipping meals (gastritis? i think it's called? i try to explain it somewhat here.) reader & al are in a situationship of some kind. idk i didn't think this through. not proofread.

"good to see you back, alejandro!"

the afternoon was noisy with chatter & song. his cousins were frantic to meet with him once they arrived, shouting praise & honor with each grin they wore. his mother, his father hugged him so tight they might as well have been one. his sisters, his brother ― nearly crying when they saw his scruffy face. his little nephews & nieces ― excited in the way they walked & talked & held his hand all the way through the day.

but there was one person, amidst all the laughter & noise of the day, he found himself thinking of.

"so... mama," he tried to broach, though he knew in his heart his questions wouldn't get past her. his mother is perceptive as she is loving.

"yes?"

"sampaguita still lives down the street, no?"

she smiles, the lines of her face squinching up. it masks her suspicion.

"yes, she does," his mother says. "still the same house, still working in the same clinic. if i recall, she's trying to visit her family for the holidays ― in november maybe."

"...and her father?"

"he's travelling, cariño, but last i heard ― just as he left, she went down with a terrible sickness. she took leave about half a day ago." his mother's voice had taken a curious quality, soft & cheeky.

alejandro's face falls at the sickness of his friend.

"oh," he intones. "is she alright then? did she go to a hospital?"

"oh, no, cariño." her voice is honey, chokingly so ― too sweet to not be a scheme.

"she wanted to take care of herself in her own home. we tried to help but ―" she shrugs. "she refused, felt herself a burden, poor girl."

the sentence did its job. the seed was planted. alejandro would visit his friend come morning.

―

"alejandro? you're back!" is what you say when you open the door, eyes bleary & grey-faced in the wake of the sun.

"yes, that i am, sampaguita,"

the lines of his grin still make you warm in the chest. your friend, as always, was as handsome as could be.

"i'd invite you inside but," your hoarse voice tapers down. you see your buckets & dropcloths by the sink, the sheets of pills & capsules, a gatorade going warm on the floor. "it's a mess in here."

"that's exactly why i'm going inside, sampaga."

"what?"

"i heard you were sick. you need someone to help."

"wha ― no, alejandro, you don't need to ―"

"i've already made up my mind."

"you ― you shouldn't waste your leave on something like this!"

"with you, it's not a waste." he says, no violent rejection ― just the gentle strength of words & care. "please, let me in."

you grumble. your matted hair is wiry, curling along your shoulders. you feel like a mess, sweaty from trying to break your fever, unable to take a bath because of said fever. your clothes were from the day before yesterday, most likely with drops of regurgitated food, smelling of stomach acid.

"sampaga," he meets your eyes. "i won't take no for an answer."

you wilt, shrugging into yourself.

"you won't be disgusted?"

"mi cariño, i work in the special forces. i believe i've seen worse."

you always thought that there were times he's had to use that exact grin for his job ― to reassure families, children of the safety he'd give. you just didn't think you'd be one of the people receiving it.

you welcome him inside, closing the door with a click & locking it in place.

his eyes rove from wall to wall, corner to corner. he sees the buckets, the dropcloths, the pills, the capsules, even the gatorade going warm on the hardwood floor.

he finds your face, and smiles, tight-lipped, sincere. it was meant to comfort & it did exactly that.

"come on," he says. "let's get you to bed."

entering the bedroom brings more mess. there was porridge on your nightstand, half eaten & cold. a bottle of water stood by, three quarters of the way full. your sheets were a mess. the blanket was running down the side of the bed. a pillow was sitting on the floor.

without a word from you, he sets out to fix the bed sheets.

you had half a mind to protest before deciding you wouldn't win that conversation. you choose to carry the bowl of porridge to the kitchen sink, watering it down before going back to bed.

he holds your hand when you settle down, sitting by your legs when your head finds the pillow.

"how'd you get sick?" is what he asks, kneading the cloth where your knees billow the blankets up.

"i skipped a meal."

"well, there you go," he chuckles, and so do you.

you recline to your side, ruffling up the sheets even further.

"i had an early breakfast the other day & by the time 11 o'clock happened, i was already hungry. i couldn't find the time to eat ― i had forgotten because we had a fire safety seminar."

your hair is curling up & around, looking like a crown.

he sees you yawn & his eyes go softer.

"it's interesting though," you say. your hand is now on his.

"what is?"

"this isn't from bacteria, you know? or a virus or any infectious agent. it's just... my body doing its job because i didn't take care of it."

"see? even your body is telling you to take care of yourself. ah, so stubborn, never listening to anyone."

at that, you laugh with him. the corners of your lips pushing your cheek further into the pillow.

"i'll listen from now on, i promise."

he faintly feels your fingertips kneading circles into his knuckles.

"wait, if you skipped a meal, how come the...?" he recalls the buckets & cloths strewn around the house.

"skipping a meal means the acid in the stomach ―" you cough into your elbow, rough, forceful. "the acid in the stomach has no food to digest. it sits there long enough, it eats into the stomach lining."

"so... the stomach,"

"the stomach gets irritated, inflammed. some people bleed, too. the irritation means you can't keep the food down, or at least, a lot of it." you clear your throat. "antacid helps. painkillers, too."

he cards his fingers through your hair & kisses your brow. he holds your cheek in his hand. it's warm against his palm.

"you stay here, okay?" he asks. "i'll clean up, and then i'll make you some soup."

"alejandro ―"

"whatever you say won't stop me." his grin is smug but genuine. he wants to take care of you, you realize belatedly.

"thank you. you don't have to do this."

he chuckles. "i'd do it ten times over if i have to. you're never getting rid of me, sampaguita."

―

the first bout of emesis he witnesses happens late at night.

he had taken to using the guest room after insisting you needed to be monitored even in sleep. you lost that conversation fighting, he admits, but still, you lost.

the room was close to the bathroom, where he heard your footfalls echo into the dead of night.

he opens the door & finds a sliver of light carving the hallway in half.

he sees you, then, on the floor, with your hair in your hands. the force of your stomach clenching makes you jump from your seat. it looks painful, especially with the way you're hunched over.

he sits with you, taking your hair & rubbing circles into your back. the corrosive smell did not ward him away. the line of spittle & half-digested food did not scare him.

he hears you cough, a detonation of fireworks in the muscles of your throat. it catches in your esophagus. you're tearing up, and when you spit it out, it comes streaked with blood.

it's there that alejandro flinches. seeing that bright red, seeing it come from you, you who was in pain, who was tired, who had your sleep interrupted by bouts of nausea.

he couldn't help it. he hugged you tighter.

―

he found a cloth somewhere in your room. he didn't remember.

all he recalled was drying the tears that ran down your face, wiping the corners of your lips.

"i can do it myself, alejandro," your voice was rough, like stone grating on iron. it sounded like the color red, raw & bleeding. agony in a breath.

alejandro couldn't reply. what would he say? that he couldn't do anything else but bring you medicine & food? that the sickness in your body can only be fought by you? that if he could fight your hurts rather than nurse them, he would?

illness was an invisible enemy. no strategy, no surprise. just waiting & watching for results until it all becomes better again.

he didn't know illness could hurt from the caretaker's side, too.

"you coughed until you drew blood,"

"so? it's not the first time."

your words startle him. how could you say that so cavaleirly? so carelessly?

"that's not... cariño, that's not the p―"

"it's not that serious ―"

"to me, it is, cariño! listen!"

he raised his voice. he begged the earth would swallow him whole.

"i didn't mean to shout... at you. it's ― you're..."

his irises meet yours & he feels himself grow small.

you were crying. big fat droplets were running down your cheeks, reaching the bunched up sheets inside your clenched hands. you swallow, come back to your senses.

the water registers & you're frantic to wipe away every last tear.

"no..." your voice was breaking like glass. "alejandro, just get out, please, this isn't your fault. i'm sorry. i'm not crying because of you."

the words are blurred together, coiling & writhing in a symphony of your hoarse, broken tenor.

alejandro feels a lump in his throat. he's caused you more pain, and you were apologizing. he doesn't want to cry, too. no, he shouldn't.

his hands have gone limp on the blankets, unsure, hesitant.

"samp ― may i hold you, please?" there's a crack when he says please.

you eyes are filling with tears again. they run along their course & meet the corners of your lips.

"yes..." your voice ― a stained glass window stoned to splinters. "please."

and so he does, planting his hands on your shoulders, pulling you to his chest. your hair tickles the underside of his chin, catching on the scruff.

there's a low groan wheedling out your esophagus, bringing with it an uneven breath.

then another.

and another.

you're hiccupping. your whole chest is trembling under him. your lungs under his fingertips stretch with each inhale, trying to accommodate air that shouldn't be there.

"deep breaths, cariño, deep breaths."

he has to remind himself not to hold you too tight, else you get smothered. with no other avenue to reassure you, he does what he can. he rubs your back & kisses your forehead.

"i'm sorry." he says into your temple.

"you ―" two erratic inhales. "you shouldn't be sorry."

the pitch of your voice rises & falls. the muscles in your throat spasm in tune with the inhales.

"no, i am. i'm sorry that i ―"

"stop apologizing, please." you bury yourself further into him, weave your arms around his torso. "stop it, stop it, please."

it's barely a whisper but he follows, blindly, as if your words were gospel.

―

the day goes on after dawn.

your head was splitting after your sobbing session. you take a paracetamol sooner than the prescribed four hours.

alejandro was busy cooking you something. soup, you guessed, or maybe more porridge. you couldn't tell from the smell. both your nostrils were blocked.

you'd been restrained to sitting or lying down on the bed as per alejandro's reprimands. he had listed reason after reason to not let you walk out nor even stand up to do anything in your room.

"you've just vomited all your food." he had said. "your stomach is empty. your source of energy is gone. get some rest, sampaguita. drink something."

you took to staring at the sunrise in the far corner of the room. the window was ajar, not even open all the way. you see the rays of light pass behind the curtain, pointing up to the walls & the ceiling.

there's wind somewhere outside, making the drapes fly up. bird were singing, faintly.

the door opens & alejandro brings in a tray full of food, water, medicine & a small basin, presumably for future instances of nausea.

despite the aches of your head, throat, chest & nose, you grin whe he sets it down, beckoning him closer to your seat at the bed.

"thank you," you're pensive for a while. then you take his hand & you give it a small peck.

"you don't need to thank me every time i do something, sampaga. it's alright."

"& are you gonna stop me?"

there it is, a face so joyous & radiant that it lights up like a full moon. the squinch of your nose, the arch of your eyelids, a golden dream of a person. alejandro could kiss you. he almost did.

but he did something better. he gave you the bowl of hot soup & a bottle of warm water. he helped you take the medicine when you finished your meal & he tucked you in when you felt drowsy.

he'll take care of you, he promises.

#alejandro vargas #alejandro vargas x reader #alejandro vargas x you #colonel vargas x reader #colonel vargas x you #call of duty x reader #cod mw2 #call of duty #mwii #my fic.

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cuteangsty · 6 months

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Youkai Temple (pilot)

Based on this post

(so I was working on these characters for a while and I managed to write a little story. I kinda plan on making more, but I'm not sure of everything so I'm calling this s pilot chapter)

Hanzō is nothing. He is nothing. It is nothing. Koji always regarded him as such. Yet something about him... His struggles, his whining and, of course the teary smile that came afterwards... There's something rather captivating about him, almost like a clueless child, he is never thinking about the pain, it seems. Kouji loves that.

Everyday, from the moment Kouji wakes up, he can't stop thinking about his scheduled time with the half-youkai. The few workers at the temple thank and greet him for being brave enough to tame such creature, "if only they new how easy it is to subjugate the lowly creature underneath" he thinks as he makes his way to Hanzō's room, through the tiny hallways sculpted on the soil. The few curious keepers caught walking through such long hallways were immediately stopped by Kouji who warned them about the terrible beast, his warnings made them all too afraid of even reaching the end of the hallway .The door was quite underwhelming, however. A small door made out of many rather thick bamboo planks, making it quite heavy, though, not impossible to open, especially for a youkai. In the middle of the de ladoor, lied a small paper sticker with a prayer written. Definitely not the heavy, think metal door covered with seals that Kouji had told everyone about.

Once Kouji gets there, he is greeted with muffled groans. Eyes and mouth covered with a cloth tied behind the head, the hands were chained together on its back, the left ankle is chained to the wall behind it and the right ankle was twisted in a weird way. The as àeso feared beast kouji had tamed was nothing but a malnutrished boy. It rocked back qnd forth occasionally, probably a calming stim, Kouji thought. There were no tears yet, since all of the still bleeding awounds weren't new, the latest one being 5 teeth cozocppremoved two days ago, 2 from the back left, 1 from the back right and the last 2 on the front. That's what I pullKouji was here to see, the follow ups of the recovery, not that he cared for the youkai's health, his 'care' was more utilitary than anything. He needed him to grow his teeth baqHtck and heal the wounds for his body to be used in the next rituals to come.

Kouji kneeled down reaching the youkai's level and looming over it, with a quick and indelicate move he pulls the bloody rag out of it's mouth and forces it open. It groans loudly, squirming, the cloth blindfolding his eyes wet with new tears of pain. Kouji moves his head around a little checking everything. "Ssshhh it's okay" kouji shushes as he uses one hand to rubs his fingers on the growing teeth and the other to rub the youkai's matted hair. His temperature was warm. Hot even, too hot for someone who lives at a mossy cold basement. It was clear Hanzō had a fever, more over, there was an infection on one tooth in the back, at this point it was probably hallucinating, not that he cared. Youkai usually manage to heal themselves on their own, it only took some time and food and the boy ate yesterday, so this problem was basically solved. The infection didn't seem big, although there's the threat of spreading, it wasn't likely, not concern him nowz not for a youkai.

The more he stroked it's hair the more the boy seemed to calm down under his hand, Hanzō gasps and whimpers with a pained yet genuine smile. "So fucking sick, aren't you?" Kouji mocked holding it by the neck. Such a pleasant view. "You don't even know what's happening, and yet you smile at me...that's why I love you, you know?" he laughs, finishing the examination. "You're fine. The fever must go down once the teeth are fully grown." Kouji throws it back to the floor and ties the cloth back in it's mouth. He gets up and leaves without even glancing back.

Kouji gets back to the temple and starts the preparations announcing the next ritua. His words are simple, but very clear to the keepers, already used to his manger of speaking.

"Soon. We'll have a blood ritual. Just keeping things calm around here."

Soon.

#whumplr #whumpee #mine #whump #whump prompt #whumper #caretaker #ritual whump #ritual #oc #original character #original story #whump story #dragon whumpee #human whumper

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rottenprincessshura100 · 6 months

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Time Key Fanfic: Daddy Issues

Mephisto hummed to himself, regarding his elfin features in a seven-foot standing mirror. He rubbed lotion on his soft, pale skin, inspecting its surface. He concluded he was still beautiful, all except for one large bruise on his collarbone. Mephisto traced his finger over the mottled flesh, using his magic to hide it.

He wouldn't let Shura see him like this, see his weakness. Humans seldom had sympathy for demons; that was just the way of their kind.

Besides, it was Mephisto's job to concoct the perfect fantasy and be the one to trap his victim. He crossed the room to a pewter wine bucket, removing the bottle from the ice. He poured himself a long, delicate flute.

Yes, his lady would be here soon, and she'd forget all about the past and focus on the future.

The future they would have together.

The door to his closet creaked open, signalling her arrival. He turned to greet her, only to be grabbed harshly by the neck.

"Eek!" Mephisto squeaked as his glass smashed to the floor.

"I have more questions!" Lightning announced with a disconcerting seriousness. "And you better answer them!"

"You're cockblocking me!" Mephisto hissed. "I was on a date. What the fuck do you want!?"

"What are your plans for Shura?" Lightning accused. "Were you going to seduce her?"

"Get your mind out of the gutter!" Mephisto snarked. "We were going to watch movies and play Twister."

"Twister?" Lewin laughed harshly. "I bet you were!"

Lightning then saw the Twister mat laid out on the floor. Mephisto smiled antagonistically.

The exorcist couldn't tell if the game had been there the entire time, or if the demon had messed with him.

"Where's Miss Kirigakure?" Mephisto demurred. "Was she hurt?"

"No, we already played Twister!"

Mephisto smirked knowingly at the bruises on Lewin's neck.

"I see my champion won." Mephisto winked. "Thank goodness she's without demon powers. She might have gotten the better of you."

Lightning crossed his arms in dismay.

"Will you answer my questions?"

"What questions could you possibly have?"

"You have a birthmark; I want to see it."

"A what?" Mephisto was taken aback. "I do not."

"I want proof."

"Surely you don't want to see me naked again."

Lightning slipped Mephisto's sash from his kimono, and the fabric fell into a puddle of silk. Lewin studied the demon's body and found what he sought."

"There it is!" He shouted.

"Release me, you pervert!" Mephisto ordered. He snapped his fingers and disappeared. With a poof of purple smoke, he rematerialized across the room. The demon snatched another robe off a chair to preserve his modesty.

"When were you going to tell me!!" Lightning growled.

"Tell you what?"

"That you're my father!"

Mephisto paused, a slow grin sliding across his features.

"How do you know that?"

"Our bodies look the same!!!"

Mephisto chuckled knowingly. "Which parts?"

"This birthmark." Lightning lifted his shirt, showing a raised spiral to the left of his belly button.

What other parts are you curious about?" The demon giggled.

"You know damn well which parts!"

"Oh?" The demon answered coyly. "You should be thanking me then."

"Jesus." Lightning winced in embarrassment. "I'm not going there."

Mephisto's grin widened at Lightning's discomfort.

"If you were anything like your father, you'd use it twice daily."

"Stop it!!" Lightning finally lost composure. "Just tell me."

"Fine, it's true." Mephisto mused. "You have your father's temper, resourcefulness and lack of personal boundaries. From me, you get intelligence, trickiness, laziness and a love of junk food. I'm unsure which side gave you a demon's lack of empathy. It could have been from either of us. Shiro was your father, and I was your temptaint. He was the last heir of Azazel, and he passed my powers off to you. That also makes you my heir and that of Azazel."

"You sent me to the old section 13 so I could find Shiro's file. You wanted me to know.

"Yes, it was time you knew the truth."

"---You wanted me to befriend Azazel, and you had Shiro take me there."

"I cannot win a war without the Demon King of Spirit," Mephisto answered. "I needed a replacement for my brother. I presented you to Azazel, and he approved."

"What does it all mean?"

"It means you will receive everything you've ever wished for." The demon announced. "Power, enlightenment and transcendence."

Mephisto approached the exorcist, placing his clawed hand over Lightning's heart. He winced as a white-hot, burning sensation spread throughout his body, from his toes to his fingertips.

"It's already within you," Mephisto explained. "His heart has become yours. You will fight at my side in the final battle and defend Earth from destruction."

"How long do I have?"

"It's coming sooner than you think; the Illuminati will advance, and Satan will return. It could be hours, days or months at the most."

"But how does this even work? Regardless of my transformation, who will tame Satan? Will I do it?"

"Why would you think that?"

"He's partial to Azazel bodies."

"No, the demon kings must retain their autonomy to prevent chaos. You are the King of Spirit, and Spirit cannot die."

"Then how?"

"I will give him mine." Mephisto's smile wavered. "It is the strongest in all of Assiah. Regardless of the strain I'm currently under, it will be enough."

"But you can't die." Lightning responded. "Or Time dies."

"That's why I need Shura." Mephisto's eyes became haunted. "I need her, then the world might survive."

"Because Time survives." Lightning nodded.

"Shura will become Time." Mephisto asserted.

"What can I do to help?"

"Keep her safe until she accepts my gift."

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

12 hours later.

The constant ringing of Shura's phone jarred her from a deep, death-like sleep.

"Fuck. Whadda want?" She grumbled.

"Inspector Kirigakure. We have a situation." Mephisto spoke with haste. "You are needed immediately for a mission."

"Huh? What's the matter?"

"There is a 50-foot cyclops loose in Northern Cross," Mephisto answered. "I'm afraid my ability to keep the barriers in check has weakened, allowing this monster to sneak in. I'm sending in the exorcist paratrooper team."

"The paratrooper team?" Shura questioned. "Jesus, why them? What kind of massive situation is this?"

"Regular humans are seeing this monster," Mephisto explained. "It's blowing up office towers all over the city."

Shura sat upright in bed, her eyes widening with shock. It was visible!!!!

"Mephisto, how can I lead a team?" Shura's voice took on a frantic edge. "I have no powers!"

"I'm afraid there is no one else available, darling." His voice sounded desperate. "They need your expertise regardless, or people will die."

"Fuuuck, can't you go?" Shura begged. "You are a goddamn demon king!"

"I'm barely keeping the barriers intact," Mephisto answered. "Please, Shura, help me."

"FINE!" She wailed in despair. "But I'm gonna fail!!"

"You are my champion." He affirmed. "I have all the confidence in the world in you."

As Mephisto hung up the phone, he grinned ear-to-ear.

"She's going, just like I said she would.

"So, what do you want me to do?" Lightning beckoned.

"Exactly what we talked about," Mephisto affirmed. "Show up late, give her sword a temporary temptaint. Once Shura remembers how good a warrior she is, she will return to me and finish our agreement.

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

Sometime in 2009

Shiro sighed. It had been another crappy mission.

Shiro had to battle a hoard of zombies. To add insult to injury, Mephisto had travelled with him. Now, Shiro had to wait on the demon hand and foot, fighting endless undead uglies.

His demon master was masquerading as his apprentice, wearing a perfectly tailored black exorcist uniform. Mephisto had disguised himself as a human, and Shiro grudgingly acknowledged that he was good-looking. He seemed even more delicate and fragile without the demon trappings of Gehenna. Shiro felt strangely over-protective at the site of him as if the change had somehow reversed their roles.

Mephisto stood on a stone precipice just above the action. Without a hint of worry, he watched the zombies advance ever closer.

"Here they come," Mephisto remarked. "Are you ready?"

"Why did you want to come here?" Shiro asked conversationally as he swooped in with a blast of bullets. "It's not like you to be on the front lines."

"Well, since the boys were born." Mephisto sipped a cup of tea. "We don't have much quality time together. It's all work and no play."

"You consider this quality time?" Shiro laughed, blowing the brains out of two drooling corpses.

"What do you mean?" Mephisto grinned, moving his fine leather boot away from a puddle of entrails. "I'm having fun, aren't you?"

Shiro took a knife from his pocket, slicing the throat of an approaching zombie. He then kicked two more corpses away from Mephisto just in time. The demon, meanwhile, hadn't budged an inch. His confidence in Shiro was absolute.

"Yeah, I guess this is fun." Shiro conceded with a grin. "Sometimes, I do miss a good workout. I spend more time doing laundry then fighting nowadays."

"Regardless, you are my champion." Mephisto smiled. "I love to watch you work."

Shiro pulled a pump-action shotgun from a holster, blasting the zombies into an explosion of red, rancid mush.

"They say a change is just as good as a rest." Mephisto agreed. "I hope you don't mind that I wanted a change too."

"Nah. I don't mind."

With a final bullet from Shiro's shotgun, the zombies lay in a disgusting pile around his feet.

"Oh, by the way," Shiro mentioned nonchalantly. "The boys need new running shoes for the first day of school, and Rin needs a new backpack."

"What happened to the one I just bought?" Mephisto frowned.

"He lit it on fire accidentally."

"What was he doing?"

"Playing with fire." Shiro ran his fingers through his hair. "That kid finds trouble, even when he's not looking for it."

"He is a demon child."

"He takes after me."

"I'll put a barrier around the backpack," Mephisto sighed. "Just in case."

"Thank-you."

Shiro turned and lifted Mephisto to the ground, much to the demon's shock and delight. The Paladin's face was inches from Mephisto's and he laughed at his expression.

"You look almost likeable, dressed like that."

"Like an attractive human?" Mephisto blushed. "Do you like it? Shiro-pon?

"Yeah, I kinda do." Shiro chucked. "You aren't wearing that goofy clown stuff."

"Uggh, Shiro." Mephisto sighed petulantly, pushing him away. "You are impossible!"

"What?" Shiro needed clarification. "What's the matter with you?"

"Would it kill you to give me a good compliment?" Mephisto pouted. "This is why women slap you."

Shiro sighed painfully, scratching the back of his neck with an unsure awkwardness.

"Fine." He grumbled. "Mephisto, I think you look like a model. Like some of the ones that work in Paris and stuff."

"Oh?" Mephisto squeezed his shoulder affectionately. "You think so? Shiro-pon."

"Yeah, It's because you have those freakishly long legs."

Mephisto's smile morphed into gritted teeth as he dug his claws into Shiro's flesh.

"You are ruining it..." He threatened. "Stop while you're ahead."

"Ow, ow....okay, okay." Shiro smiled wolfishly. "I'm just teasing! Will you relax?"

The demon released him and stalked away with a model's swagger and determination. He conjured his pink umbrella to keep the hot sun away from his pale complexion.

"Oh, I spoke too soon." Shiro chuckled. "The pink clown umbrella has arrived."

"You will not insult my familiar!" The demon huffed. "Or you'll be sifting shit in Kathmandu."

"Man, Mephisto, you are really mad." Shiro fought back his laughter. "Do you care about my opinion that much?"

"I'm a demon," Mephisto shot back like a wounded child. "I don't care!"

It was then that Shiro knew-- Mephisto did care.

Strangely enough, Shiro had grown attached to him too.

Of course, he could never admit such a thing.

Trusting a demon was against the rules....

#blue exorcist #mephisto pheles #shura kirigakure #ao no exorcist #shiro Fujimoto #aoex fanfic #lightning #Lightning

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gvf-imagine · 4 years

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Weekend with Jake

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You and the boys relaxed in Jake and Josh’s basement, it was a calm saturday afternoon and most of your free time was spent with these men in this basement. They were your friends, your best friends even. Sam was the first one you met , he was in your biology class to which you both showed up late and were paired together to dissect a frog. Which you both protested, instead of cutting up a poor frog you and him talked about music the whole class hour. You failed the class but gained a friend, well four friends after he introduced you to his brother’s that lunch period. That was a few years ago now, back in freshman year. Now you're all seniors, who barely attended school. The boys at least had good reason, they were investing their time in their band. You just didn't want to go to school if your friends weren't there, you did what you needed to graduate and coasted through the rest.

“Thirsty?” Jake inquires , noticing you'd been quiet for a while. You didn't realize any of them had spoken; you were adrift in reflections of the past.

“Yeah I could go for some soda” you answer, offering him a kind smile, he grins back and hops off the black suede couch, his imprint still left in the cushion next to you. You hadn't noticed the warm presence of his body heat until it was gone. He moved across the room and jogged up the stairs headed for the kitchen.

“I'm bored” Danny utters, looking at an old magazine. He let it fall out of his grip and settle lightly on his lap.

“Me too” Sam announces, he had been situated in the corner of the room and was fiddling around with his Bass, he often played small compositions to himself. You looked to Josh who you expected would be the next to say something, he was far too enthralled with his phone to even regard that any of you were here.

Jake's footsteps descended the stairs before he hopped over the back of the couch landing perfectly in his fading imprint.

“Here you go!” he voices handing you the cold can. You grab it and inspect the label, your eyebrows peak up towards your forehead in thought.

“You got me diet?” you inquire looking to him. His face goes pale and panic fills his chocolate brown eyes. He shifts his weight on the couch, adjusting his posture. He gulps telling you his throat went dry. You tried your hardest not to laugh, but couldn't help it. It was cute seeing him all flustered at the thought of insulting you.

“Jakey, I'm just kidding, I prefer diet, thank you” the words escape your lips and Jake sighs with relief sneaking in a small chuckle as well.

“Good….because I didn't mean anything by bringing you diet, I mean I know you like it but I dont - I dont think youre ya know, I don't thi- you look really good to me like you don't have to change anything about your- I just-” you put your finger to his mouth, his haphazard words coming to a stop.

“Thank you Jake” you speak softly, you knew what he was trying to say.

“Let's go swimming” Josh proposes, finally lifting his eyes from his phone. You had almost forgotten what you were talking about.

“Swimming? We don't have a pool” Sam replies, setting his base back in its case. Josh shrugs looking at his tall, slim, younger brother.

“no , but the neighbors do and they're out of town” he offers with a sly grimace.

“Problem solved” Danny chimes perking up with a toothy grin.

“I’m in” Jake replies nodding.

“(y/n)?” Josh asks, they all look at you in waiting. Your eyes flicker between the four of them.

“Sure….but I don't have a bathing suit” you realize.

“That's ok you can just wear your birthday suit” Josh winks. Your eyes roll, as they often did in Josh's direction.

“You can borrow Ronnies,here come on I'll take you to her room” Jake offers, touching your shoulder gently indicating it was time to stand. You agree and follow him up the stairs and down the hall to her room. You walked in and it smelled just like her, vanilla and cashmere , her signature perfume scent. Jake looks around the room and silence settles in the air he looks over to you his hand tucked snugly in his back pockets.

“Here it's right here….dont worry its clean '' he says pulling the bikini out of Ronnie's drawer. You look at it as he hands it to you , it was the color of strawberry milk, which you liked, it was also a two piece, which you didn't like.

“Oh it's a bikini” you utter, you didn't mean to say it out loud. You did not usually wear bikinis , you didn't feel very comfortable in them, especially not in front of four boys. You just didn't feel like you had the right body for a bikini. Jake must have noticed your unease

“You can wear one of my shirts if you're not comfortable in just that” he offers gently. You smile and thank him but decline, you didn't want his clothes to get ruined from the chlorine.

“Ill just wear this, its no problem, plus I really wanna go swimming its hot as fuck out” you chuckle. Jake nods in agreement

“Well I'd better go change too” he announces, leaving you alone in the room. You slip your clothes off and shuffle into the bikini. You looked at yourself in the mirror that hung on the back of Ronnie's door. You didn't look as horrible as you thought you would have, but you were still kind of nervous about the guys seeing you like this, they'd never seen you in such a small amount of clothing.

“Most of your body will be underwater, they'll only see you for a moment” you give yourself a small pep talk.

“Come on (y/n) were leaving!” you hear danny call from the living room. With a fortifying breath you give yourself one last look and walk out of the room. You make a pit stop in the bathroom and grab a towel to wrap around your body , you grabbed an extra four for the guys as well. The soft shag carpeting of the bath mat in the bathroom grounded you and calmed you.

“Just getting some towels!” you yell down assuming they heard you. You had the towels and you were ready to go, butterflies slammed incessantly into the sides of your stomach, begging to be released.

You walked down the stairs and found the guys waiting by the front door.

“Alright let's go” Josh says as he turns the bronze door knob, the sun gleamed in the sky, you squinted trying to combat its powerful rays.

“Jesus christ” Sam spat holding his hand up above his eyes.

“Good day for swimming,” Danny adds as you all walked towards the backyard, the neighbor in question was a few houses down. The warm soft grass felt inviting on the bottoms of your feet the sun bathed your skin with warmth like a hug from mother nature herself.

The pool was actually pretty big, you were almost surprised something like this was in someone's backyard and not on an episode of ‘cribs’. The boys begin pulling their shirts off with no thought , you were almost jealous at how little they had to worry about their bodies. You, on the other hand, were a little more reluctant. A few droplets of water hit your face as Jake jumps in the pool, then Danny then sam.

“Come on” Josh nudges you before joining his brothers. You watch them with a smile before dropping your towel , slowly. Jake was watching you intently only with his head visible above water. His lips part and his tongue smooths across them as he takes in the sight of you. His hair was wet and small drops of water cascaded down his face, he didn't seem to notice he was too engaged with you. You didn't see him looking at you at first and the first person to say anything was danny.

“Jesus…” he muttered, in a good way you had hoped.

“I'll take that as a compliment Daniel” you chime walking closer to the pool, using the ladder to slowly dip yourself in the refreshing water. It wasn't too cold or too hot, it was perfect and your body thanked you for it.

The guys swam around for a while, all of you splashing each other, laughing and probably being far too loud to go unnoticed by the other neighbors but none of you cared. It was freeing to be in the water, all your worries fade with every splash , ebb and flow just like the artificial waves Josh and Sammy were causing while wrestling in the water. You felt something grab your leg and pull you under before you could let out a sound. You smile when you see Jake's long hair floating aimlessly in the clear blue water, he waves to you then brings his hand to his lips and blows you a kiss before resurfacing. You stayed under a few seconds longer than followed him up. The noise of the outside world filling your ears once again. Jake flipped his hair out of his face, you watched in slow motion as droplets of water flung of the tips. You couldn’t help but take not of how attractive Jake is, his smooth sun kissed skin covered in droplets of water racing down his body

Stop stop stop.

You pull your eyes away from him , you could swear you saw him smile.

Your heart was fluttering in your chest, you hadn’t felt like this before about Jake, you’ve always seen him as a best friend. The night went on and now you and Jake found yourselves back at his house , upstairs on the balcony that was attached to his second floor bedroom.

“You want a drink?” He questions

“Wine?” You inquire with a smile.

“Yes ma’am, your favorite too, pink moscato” he returns the smile. You were at the kiszkas so often for dinner they’d always kept a bottle of your favorite wine in their liquor cabinet. Jake stepped out of his room and downstairs. You turned your attention to the sky. Pinks and oranges painted across the lazy sky as the sun began to set. You closed your eyes, your body tired from spending the day in the hot sun. The clinking of glasses brings you back to a more present state of mind. Your eyes flicker up to Jake who stood over you, holding a wine glass out to you , once you took it he returned to the wooden patio chair he was sitting on.

He poured your drink first and then his, the wind gently blowing his hair. You took a sip of the sweet and tart liquid, it was ice cold and delicious.

Your eyes find their way back to the sky.

“What a beautiful view” you chime to no one in particular. Jake looks to you, he watches the wind sweep through your hair , his eyes scan your profile lingering on your lips.

“Yeah...you’re gorgeous” he says , his words softly float out of his mouth.

“I means ITS- it’s a gorgeous...view” he corrects himself quickly, he curses himself under his breath. You pretend like you didn’t hear the first part but you did and it made your stomach flip. Did he really think you’re gorgeous?

“Are you sleeping over?” He asks, taking another drink from his glass. You mull the idea over in your head.

“Do you want me to?” You respond , a loaded question.

Jake catches this and smiles at you.

“Of course” he coos. This would not be the first time you slept over so it wasn’t a big deal.

The rest of the guys were downstairs drinking around the fire pit, you could see them from where you were sitting.

“Wanna join them?” Jake asks, noticing you gazing down at them.

“Sure!” You chime. The two of you grab your drinks and make your way to the fire pit.

“We should make s’mores” you propose making a pit stop in the kitchen. You open the cupboards looking for graham crackers and some chocolate bars. Marshmallows were on top of the fridge as always.

“Here I can carry that” Jake offers, taking the food from your hands , such a gentleman. His fingertips gently brush against yours and by the look in his sparkling eyes you couldn’t help but wonder if it was intentional.

“There they are,” Josh exclaims as you and Jake sat down. You sat next to Danny who welcomed you with a side hug and a kind smile. Jake sat across from you with Sammy. Flames of blazing heat separating the two of you, obstructing your view of him.

“We brought snacks” Jake chimes tossing the marshmallows to Sam who tore the bag open happily.

Conversation flowed as easily as the drinks, the sun was gone now, the heat of the alcohol was all you needed to keep you warm. The five of you spent a few hours around that fire landing you all in a drunken stooper.

“Well...I think I’m gonna go to bed ladies” you say, struggling to stand up. Danny holds your arm stabilizing you. You turn and give him a good night hug, his hand brushes up and down your back as he says goodnight. You take a lap hugging each of them , all of them saying goodnight. You stumble again as you walk towards the house.

“I’ll help her” Jake says standing to his feet, you feel his hand lay above your hip bone and his other hand grab your arm as he stands behind you holding you up.

“Went a little heavy on the wine huh girl?” He laughs as he moves you through the house.

“Yeah” you slur.

“Think you can make it up the stairs?” He asks, trying to catch your gaze. You shrug. He chuckles and just picks you up bridal style , carrying you gracefully up the stairs. He sets you down on his bed gently, his mattress shapes to your body , you feel him drape a thick comforter over you , his body weight settling next to you. He brushes your hair out of your face and kisses you softly, reluctantly on the cheek. It felt right, being here with him in this bed , with his arms wrapped around you , your body against his, his face nuzzled into your neck planting kisses on your shoulder. He whispers a soft goodnight.

The next morning you woke up to an empty bed, it took you a moment to realize where you were, your head pounded , the night before still knocking against your brain.

Jake was nowhere to be found , well, at least in the bedroom. You squint your eyes as the sun gleamed through the blinds

“Good morning” Jake voices as he steps into the room carrying a tray with breakfast foods laid out attractively.

“I brought you breakfast, I bet you’re feeling pretty rough” he chuckles as he sets the tray down so it’s stationed across your lap. You smile at the plate of delicious food in front of you and then turn to Jake.

“Oh Jake this is so sweet, thank you so much”

“You’re welcome girl….I made it all myself” he adds.

“Well here we can share” you chime scooting over so he could get closer, he wasted no time doing so.

You rest your head on his chest as he takes a drink of juice.

It all felt right, for the first time in your life everything felt right.

#jake #jake kiszka imagine #jake kiszka #greta van fleet #gvf #danny wagner #josh kiszka #sam kiszka #danny gvf #jake gvf #sam gvf #josh gvf

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naramdil · 5 years

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Hi Hafsa! I was the cat anon, I'm getting a little silver marble Bengal boy! What shall I name him? And omg please give me any and all the advice you could possibly give me, I need all the help I can get

hey!! I’m so sorry for such a delayed response but I am absolutely Thrilled for you!!!! experiencing life w a kitten for the first time is so magical and it can be exhausting but it’s all so worth it. you’re gonna be in love. idk if you’ve gotten him already yet but hopefully some of this info will still be helpful even if you have. I made this a read more bc I wrote a lot lol. please let me know if there are any other questions that you have and good luck with everything 💗

re: his name, I have NO idea but I literally always thought if I ever get another boy kitten that I’d want to name him Rumi? also sometimes once you get them a name manifests naturally so don’t stress too much about that. I will say that it’s better to keep it st short and at a max of two syllables, when you say his name to him pronounce it with emphasis so he knows you’re talking to him.

before he arrives (again, if you have him already you can disregard this lol) but I suggest planning on keeping him in one room to start as he gets used to your home environment - the sounds/smells etc. so for me I kept him in my room.

this room will need to be baby proofed, check the floor for small things they could choke on, cover up outlets, loose wires, etc. so that it’s a safe enough place to leave him unsupervised.

make sure that you keep all his necessary things there: a litter box, food, water, a few toys (I’ll link some of lulu’s faves later), somewhere to scratch, and somewhere to hide (this might be his carrier or st like this, some cats enjoy sitting in their carriers and some don’t so providing somewhere for him to retreat to is always good imo)

when you bring him home, set the carrier near the litter and allow him to come out of the carrier on his own. now, I read that a lot of cats are nervous and take time but my cat could not Wait to get out of the carrier and smell the entire parameter of my room, and ik bengals have similar curious temperaments so he may not be that shy from the get go. before he continues exploring just set him down in the litter box so he knows where it is and then let him carry on exploring and familiarizing himself w the environment.

also make sure the food and water aren’t near the litter box lol

also I rec getting a small fuzzy blanket and conditioning him to knead on that rather than directly on you or someone/something else. you will thank me later for his when he’s a grown ass adult with grown ass adult paws.

litter - bengal cats are v big, as are ragdolls so! I rec a Big litter box, either the large or extra large sized pans you can buy. also do yourself a favor and buy the liners, I also def use those litter locker things lol they make it a lot easier to dispose & maintain a clean litter box.

keep a mat to place the litter box on. please.

I get the tidy cats instant action one and have never had any issue with smell or any other health problems that some litters can cause

scratching - this is the scratching post I have for my cat, it’s really nice and tall for large breeds and I haven’t had to replace it quite yet, it’s literally lasted six years of use so far! I’ll probs need to replace it soon though lol but a lot of cheaper scratching posts don’t last more than a few months so I’m really happy w this one.

also ik they make cardboard ones but my cat’s scratching instinct has never kicked in w those so that’s just st to note, all cats have different preferences so starting out w a few cheaper things and seeing what he prefers before investing in st like what I linked above is a good idea

regarding grooming - get him used to it early on. wait for him to be in sleepy nap mood and brush him over. let him smell the brush first, that’s a huge tip actually. before introducing him to anything new, before touching him etc, always let him smell before proceeding.

if you are going to clip his claws at home then get a sturdy pair of clippers, if you buy st cheap and flimsy it’s going to cause damage to his nail. also this is st to get him used to while he is young, it’s okay if he only let’s you do a couple at a time.

toys! there are obvi many kinds of toys so I’m gonna list some that are lulu’s faves

any of those cat toys that are like fishing rods with a toy attached to the end? great! avoid getting the ones with feathers on the ends bc your cat will demolish them so fast but also, feather toys always make my cat sneeze so I just avoid letting him play with those. what you’re gonna learn is that between 2 and 5 am, your kitten has a HUGE burst of energy. lulu used to run around my room SO FAST and I used to make him chase after this toy to tire him out before going to bed lol. if you have a kitten that’s super active at night, try to interrupt some of his napping during the day & then play Hard with him before you sleep. also, if your kitten starts panting while playing, take the toy away and let him rest. sometimes they cannot rest if the toy is still in sight so you may have to hide it for a little bit before resuming play.

cat’s love lasers. if you have a laser it is endless entertainment for both you and your kitten.

this kind of toy is best for when you’re leaving your cat alone and need him to entertain himself. my cat only plays with this one when I am unavailable, it def keeps him entertained.

any kind of ball toy is nice, you can play with him or he can play with them by himself

my cat rly loves this cat nip toy

anything with

that’s really it tbh cats are v easy to please and I’m sure once you see what kind of things he’s most intrigued by you’ll be able to better figure out what to try out.

okay I feel like I have covered almost all bases, ik I haven’t discussed food but that will vary with whatever your cat is already used to and if your cat is picky etc.

#Anonymous

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scriptshrink · 7 years

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First, hello! Second, question. I have a character who has PTSD. What is most likely to cause a vivid, visceral, flashback? I know sounds, smells, and environments can cause them, but is there a sense/experience that is more common than others to cause a flashback? Is there one that causes flashbacks to be more intense? I've heard smell in particular can link to memories on a different level than others, but I'm not sure how this would interact with PTSD. Thank you for any insight you may have.

CW: mentions of trauma, no details

Snail

First off, I don’t have access to any statistics about the triggers for flashbacks right now, so I won’t be talking about the likelihood of different sensory triggers causing a flashback.What I want to talk about first of all is that sometimes triggers just don’t make sense. Like, in examples that people give they always say things like “the attacker used Frankly Hollington aftershave, and now every time the victim smells the aftershave they have a flashback”, but actually it’s not always like that.

Sometimes it’s very clear - I walked into the library one time and there was this massive TV playing a news story related to [[trauma]]. A combination of statistics that related to my trauma + the completely unexpected exposure = flashback. Zero surprise.Other times it’s not so clear - I experienced a flashback, and after spending an hour working through it in therapy the next week, I was able to identify a possible trigger, but it wasn’t obvious.And then you get the times when you can’t point to a trigger at all - I was driving home from work, something happened(?), flashback, dissociation, can’t really remember anything between being halfway home and midnight in my bedroom.

I personally believe that smells can cause vivid flashbacks, although I don’t have research to confirm this. But smells are hard to identify as triggers. Sure, sometimes there are smells that clearly link to traumas (wine on someone’s breath, blood, petrol), but there are also a whole bunch of smells that are harder to identify.

Try to remember what you could smell when you last went to the shops. What about the smell when you opened your front door yesterday? It’s really difficult. But when the smell is associated with a trauma, even though your conscious brain can’t identify what the smell is, your emotional response is still “smell=PANIC”

Anon 217

Regarding flashbacks, I’ve actually never had a movie-style flashback where I think I’m back in a traumatic situation. Instead, I experience the same feelings – the same terror, anxiety, emotional response – as during the traumatic event.

Snail

Same, I get the same emotional response and the physical sensations of touch, but for me it’s not like being in a movie where suddenly it’s x years earlier - I know where I am, but it’s almost like part of you is back there

Anon 217

I think with me I’m more afraid of the past trauma happening again. It’s like my brain says, “Shit, XYZ has happened and I’m feeling ABC, which means THE BAD THING will happen again. PREPARE. ALERT. WARNING.”

Snail

Though of course, my brain going “PREPARE. ALERT. WARNING.” often does the opposite of preparing me! I guess it’s my brain’s version of helping. Like the time that it got me out of the “dangerous” situation, but then I ended up wandering the streets, unable to recognise places I knew really well. Well done brain, you are no longer in the “dangerous” party, but you are now walking around the streets of London with no money, no phone, no idea where you are.

Charlie

I think this depends massively on the individual. Like everyone processes senses in different ways anyway AND trauma also impacts on how memories and senses are processed. So while scent may trigger the most intense response in one person, for another it could be sound.The only movie-style full immersion “oh my god I am back in the Trauma Place™” flashback I’ve ever had was triggered by a situation rather than one individual trigger. It was the sounds, the sights, the people present… It all combined to give me the most vivid flashback I’ve ever had, and I think it’s the same for a lot of people.

It’s also worth keeping in mind that some triggers can be emotional. We talk about the sensory ones a lot, but for me certain feelings like being trapped or helpless are actually far worse than any kind of smell or sound.

adamfaraday

I would agree that flashbacks, from what I have experienced, are more emotional. And triggers are not always obvious or recognizable. The worst one I have had was when I was taking a bath. It might just be a result of being too relaxed or maybe i fell asleep for a moment, but that was the only time I had a visceral flashback. Seeing people behave in a similar way could trigger an emotional response, but it may not happen every time. A trigger does not always equal a flashback.

lotevane

I’d like to ask a follow-up question to the current ask– flashbacks are a popular expository trope, so that’s what a lot of people end up using. Assuming the author wants to have their character experience PTSD and given how expository flashbacks are a fiction trope, how would you prefer to see it represented in writing? What would be a better way to present the information in the flashback?

Snail

To answer lotevane: I think that there isn’t anything inherently wrong with using flashbacks in this way, but it is a bit tiresome to see flashbacks in fiction all being fully-immersive and every flashback conveniently having clear narrative. It would be nice to see some of the complexity/weirdness of flashbacks shown. The disconnect between different senses - I can see the room I am in now, but I can feel hands and hear sounds from then. The fact that you can end up interacting with people and doing things in the real world, even in the middle of a flashback.

The “narrative” of a flashback doesn’t always make sense - in my flashbacks that were closest to movie flashbacks (all senses, although I still knew where I was in real life) it wasn’t an exact recreation of what had happened previously, things were jumping around. For exposition in a story, it wouldn’t work as a “character was working late in the lab one night, they removed Professor J’s samples from the centrifuge, they dropped one of the samples and it exploded! Insert detailed description of character’s attempts to escape but becoming trapped”

It would be more like “character can smell the smoke filing their lungs, feel blood matting their hair. There’s a feeling of panic as they drag themselves across the floor” how did they get in this situation? The flashback isn’t going to describe that.

Even if the flashback shows the time of the explosion, even if it shows the transition from apparent safety to suddenly “I am going to die”, it wouldn’t be something that you could describe using the same style and language you would use to describe it if it were happening chronologically in the story. The feeling for the character is panic, fight-or-flight, and the writing needs to reflect this if you are looking for accuracy- if you are writing a psychological flashback, don’t confuse it with the literary device that is called a flashback. Whereas the literary device allows the author to go back in time and tell the story of what happened, for your character a psychological flashback is not telling a story, it’s reliving a trauma.

lotevane

That’s precisely my point, I feel like the best answer to this ask would be, okay, if you want to use a flashback as a plot device, go ahead, that’s what it’s like as you’re familiar with it– but if you want to capture what it’s actually like, you might want to incorporate what it’s actually like, and here are some examples of what people experience.

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