#mentally she would improve significantly

[dennisboobs]

anyone voting "it would make her worse" on that poll i expect a twelve page dissertation in my inbox by 5pm. in what universe.

#ada speaks #IT COULD ABSOLUTELY NOT MAKE HER WORSE #WHAT WOULD POSSIBLY BE WORSE #THE PRIMARY ISSUE WITH DEN IS EXERTING POWER AS A PRIVILEGED MAN OVER WOMEN PLEASE EXPLAIN HOW THAT WOULD BE MADE WORSE BY TRANSITIONING #i can literally see 'no' more than it making her worse #would it Save dennis? debatable. but PLEASE explain how she could ever be made worse. please. because i have nothing #mentally she would improve significantly #overall it would at LEAST halve the destruction brought upon others #is it the source of ALL of her problems... no. absolutely not. but there is no doubt it would improve a LOT

[wake-me-up-inside-imagines]

could I request headcanons of uvo, chrollo, and phinks with a little sibling figure reader in the troupe and she’s ten years old maybe? :) platonic ofc . tysm and it’s ok if u can’t do this request ! (If three characters is too much just uvogin is ok ^_^)

Of course! I hope you enjoy!

Uvogin, Chrollo, and Phinks with a little sibling figure in the troupe

Warnings: none

Female! Reader

Uvo:

I know Uvo’s a violent man, but I feel like he would be the softest in the world with you, which is unusual because he helped kill an entire clan, including the children

-I mean first of all, he’s very impressed by the fact that your a ten year old and also in the freaking phantom troupe, with enough training you could even defeat him over time!

-He very quickly decides he’s gonna look out for you wether it be in training, missions, or just when your all hanging around waiting for orders

-Speaking of training, he wants to see you reach your full potential as soon as possible, so he spars with you often. He won’t go easy on you, but he won’t seriously injure you either, he’s very aware that your both physically smaller and more mentally immature than he is (at his old ass age) so he’s aware that he has an advantage when it comes to fighting

-You learn a lot from fighting him though, he may make harmless taunts every now and then but he gives very constructive criticism and it does help improve your fighting skills significantly, perks of sparring with one of the strongest troupe members I guess

-He play whatever games you want in during times when there’s nothing to do, especially when your on guard duty with nothing to entertain you. He makes a surprisingly good playmate (he’ll let you play with his hair too)

-He keeps an eye on you during missions, but he’s well aware you can hold your own, you wouldn’t be in the troupe otherwise. That being said, if something gets serious enough (like Kurapika’s case for example) then he won’t hesitate to defend you with his life. There’s not a lot of people he’s willing to die for, but you’re one of them

-I kinda see him like a cool uncle more then a brother, idk why but he just gives off those vibes

Chrollo:

-I think Chrollo’s quite fond of children personally, he’ll still kill them if their in the way of achieving a goal but I don’t think he enjoys it and he also wouldn’t kill a child for no reason like he would an adult

-He’s very impressed by your power level, your a very useful addition to the troupe and he plans on utilizing that as much as possible

-But he does genuinely come to care for you later on though, that’s not surprising considering how the troupes practically family anyways

-He let’s you sit with him during meetings if you want, your also the only troupe member that’s allowed to touch him without explicit permission beforehand

-He doesn’t involve himself too much with you, but he does keep an eye on you more than he does the others, you may be powerful but your still young, it’s not easy living this kinda life at your age

-He’s the one to introduce you to the troupe and he’s also the one to make sure you get acquainted with the troupe without any issue, he can and will threaten any troupe member that is too unkind to you

-Like Uvo, he’s not concerned about you during missions, he’s very well aware of your powers, he’s probably the most familiar with them out of all the troupe members since he had to recruit you

-I honestly can’t see him treating you too differently from the other troupe members, your tough, you have incredible potential, he doesn’t see the need to coddle you like some of the other members might

Phinks:

-He’s skeptical if you at first, why did Chrollo choose you of all people? The troupe is no place for a child as young as you

-After seeing you fight for the first time though he’s immediately like “damn maybe she does belong in here” and now he’s curious as to how you turned out this way in the first place

-Phinks doesn’t approach you right away, he ops to observe you from afar for awhile, but the longer your in the troupe the more you inevitably interact

-For some reason, the two of you are put on missions often, so you grow very attached to him and he’s very confused about it. He has no idea why you cling to him specifically but he gets used to it after some time

-He’s definitely the most protective of you out of the group, he’ll never let you know how much you’ve grown on him but he makes sure nobody bothers you

-Especially on missions, in theory he knows you can hold your own but when your actually fighting and in danger he tries to do the bulk of the fighting no matter how much you protest

-He’s afraid to train with you because he fears he might hurt you, he’s a tough dude who doesn’t hold back when fighting so he’s not sure how well he could hold his strength against you

-He’ll “begrudgingly” (not really tho) play games with you if you ask him nice enough, but he’ll make lighthearted complaints the entire time

-Fears that your gonna die during your time in the troupe, it’s a very dangerous job and your super young compared to most of the guys they fight

-We have a tsundere older brother over here everyone lol

#x reader #phinks #phinks x reader #platonic #platonic x reader #platonic reader #chrollo lucilfer #chrollo x reader #uvogin #uvogin x reader #hunter x hunter #hunter x hunter x reader #hxh #hxh x reader #younger sibling reader #phantom troupe x reader #phantom troupe

[jarviscockerssecrethusband]

Steve started going to the gym the day after Eddie dumped him.

Technically, the two events were unrelated. Eddie avoided the gym like the plague so it wasn’t like Steve was going out of his way to meet him and they had a 30% membership discount the month of April, so really he was just taking advantage of a good deal.

Honestly, Steve worked out when he was stressed and he really needed that adrenaline hit to stop himself from crawling into the fridge and never coming out again.

He’d gotten up at 6AM, made sure that he looked semi presentable to be out in public and was just settling onto the running machine when the sound of Metallica started blasting from the Pilates room just opposite the regular gym.

After Steve recovered from his almost panic attack thinking that Eddie was actually getting fit, and the confusion at the instructor using fucking Metallica for 6AM Pilates, Steve decided in a bored, sad, slightly horny way, to check out the class.

Well, the instructor definitely wasn’t Eddie.

Eddie didn’t have those muscles.

Eddie didn’t have bleach blonde hair.

Eddie didn’t have a fucking tongue piercing.

Steve quickly decided he was in way over his head and frantically started to back away from the door but it was too late. The guy had already seen him and was gesturing him over.

Fucking shit.

The instructor was called Billy. Which was fun. He’d just moved to Hawkins from Los Angeles (why???????) and he was always up for new students so why didn’t Steve give it a go, he promised the Metallica was just a joke since it never failed to wake everyone up.

Steve was not a Pilates guy. That was all he learned from the hour long session. Well, that and when Billy’s tongue flicked out and did a little corkscrew, he looked like he’d be really good at eating- no Steve. Bad thoughts. No rebound.

Billy clapped a firm hand on Steve’s shoulder on the way out and Steve swore he started developing a semi.

This was not going to work.

He did what he always did when considering bad horny decisions and called Carol. The conversation was short and to the point.

“Babe didn’t Munson dump you literally like yesterday?”

She was popping her gum across the line. It was infuriating. Steve took a deep breath before responding.

“Well yeah but-“

Carol cut him off. She had a habit of doing that.

“Yeah but nothing babe.” Her voice trailed out of his phone like cigarette smoke, dancing across his room. “Either you let me key his dumbass weed van or you give up any dreams you’ve ever had about bouncing on blondie muscleface’s dick. Kay babe?”

Then she hung up.

Steve decided to go to Pilates class every day for the following two weeks. It kind of grew on him. Heather, the assistant instructor was bitchy and fun in a way he liked and her long acrylics reminded him of Carol. He made a mental note to himself to introduce her to Robin.

Things on the Billy side of things had not improved however. They’d gotten significantly worse. He was getting boners in public like a teenager, couldn’t speak in full sentences and his heart started doing that gooey mushy thing, especially when Billy told him he’d done a good job.

It’s a rebound not a crush had become his new mantra. Unfortunately, it wasn’t exactly true.

It was definitely a crush. A big one. Even bigger than the ones he’d had on Jonathan or Nancy or Eddie. And it was a problem.

He didn’t do a Clueless and start wearing revealing athletics wear or anything but he did start flirting just a little. To test out if what he thought had been completely made up in his brain or if something was actually happening.

Billy consistently responded with innuendos so intense, they would make Tommy ask him to cool it.

Ok. So Billy seemed to like him back. All Steve needed to do was ask him to dinner or something. No biggie.

He walked into next Mondays class with a mission which was immediately shattered by Billy wearing a signed Corroded Coffin t shirt. And Corroded Coffin was still small as shit, if Billy had it signed, he was friends with Eddie no doubt.

Running out of the class may not have been the most dignified option but it was the only one his dumbass brain could think of at the time.

He ran all the way back to his apartment onto his bed then cried. After half an hour he decided to check his phone only to be faced with a text from a number Steve must have just thought he’d blocked.

Eddie 💖🖤☺️

Can we talk?

Steve messaged back telling him to go away but five seconds later relented and said sure.

The phone started ringing immediately.

“Hey Steve. Why’d you run out of Billy’s Pilates class?”

Steve wanted to laugh. Or cry. Or both. He decided to keep his tone on the cooler side of polite.

“Did he tell you about that?”

There was a long silence for about five minutes before Eddie answered.

“Look Steve……….I know I wasn’t a gentleman when I dumped you. I shouldn’t have just run from the restaurant. That was a dick move. But I really do like Jason and I know for a fact Billy likes you. And you deserve each other. Really.”

Steve sniffled but didn’t answer

“Friends again?” Eddie’s voice was uncharacteristically quiet.

“Friends.”

Billy looked slightly frantic the next Pilates class. His hair was a mess and he was wearing a hat with a food stain on it somehow. His face visibly relaxed when he saw Steve.

Billy wasn’t a rebound. He was kind and friendly and opened the door to people who were struggling to get out. His hair was a stupid 80s mullet in 2024, his tattoos were atrocious and Steve thought it might be too soon to say it but he was pretty sure he was in love with him.

Dinner was a good start though, Steve thought as Billy laced their fingers together after the class. Dinner was good.

#billy hargrove #steve harrington #harringrove #harringrove ficlet

[dogsayswoof]

Hounds From Hell Chapter 4

Summary: Tension at the Rave'n dance. And some backstory to the hounds.

Word Count: 2.5k Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Reader (Hounds from Hell Masterlist)

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Despite the small concussion, your grades in chemistry were improving, you had a whole bunch of new friends, and your team won the semi-finals game.

You could say life was going significantly better than it was at the beginning of the year.

Wednesday and your study da- hangouts had extended to going for coffee and walks in the woods, no longer exclusively studying and lunch as a group. Your feelings were undeniable and you were falling head over heels for the abrasive girl in front of you.

Wednesday could also not deny her growing feelings but was still refusing to take you any farther than friends. Sure, you had your moments here and there. Lingering touches and confusing analogies that were definitely not actually about the subject at hand.

Then came the week of the Rave'n. Enid was gushing over her and Ajax's matching outfits and was begging you daily-hourly, to ask Wednesday.

"Enid I'm not asking her" you huffed as the blonde werewolf disturbed your date with a menacing burrito you were dying to dig into.

"Y/N please. Think about how CUTE you guys would look. She's wearing this gorgeous black dress her mother sent her last week and we'd get you in a black suit, with a black shirt and tie, you two would be to DIE for."

"If I ask her will you stop bugging me about it?" you said and she nodded aggressively.

"I promise" she said her signature smile plastered on her face.

"Okay then, I'm holding you to it" you said finally settling it to destroy the burrito that had been waiting patiently for you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your heart was racing. It had taken you three days to figure out how to even approach asking Wednesday and the dance was tomorrow.

You stood in front of her door, a single black dahlia in hand.

You knocked.

No answer.

You knocked again.

No answer.

You knocked again this time twice.

"What are you doing" said the familiar monotone voice from next to you causing you to jump.

Clearly she had not been in her room.

"Fuck, you scared me" you said and she looked you up and down taking a mental inventory of everything.

"Is that for me?" she asked curiously.

"Uh yeah, I.. uh.. I wanted to know if you'd go to the Rave'n with me?" you said scratching the back of your neck nervously.

Your arm extended to offer her the flower.

She took it and her chest filled with regret.

"I can't."

Your features almost immediately drooped, like a dog with a tail between their legs.

"Oh.." you wanted to escape. Be anywhere but in front of her.

"I just.. I already have a date" she said softer than normal, guilt gnawing at her stomach.

"oh.." you said even quieter.

"I'm sorry." she said and you shrugged,

"Nah, it's cool. I understand, this place is crawling with people who want you so.."

You left her standing there, blocking out anything else going on around you wanting to escape, and Wednesday wanted to follow you. She wanted to say yes. She would probably greater enjoy your companionship than the boy she agreed to go with, but she couldn't just blow him off. She needed to get close to him for her recent investigation.

She looked down to see Thing tapping the ground with her in annoyance.

"What are you looking at?" she said and he signed to her

"What do you know about love? You're just a hand"

He flipped her off before scurrying into the room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If asking Wednesday to the dance wasn't a disaster, all the events leading up to the event were. In the chaos that was this week, you had forgotten that the Rave'n fell on a hunt night.

You, the Hemingways, and the Bassets filed into the car that your father had sent to pick you all up. It was a thirty minute drive to the estate you always found yourself at every full moon. You were all wearing the suits you had intended to wear tonight, bar Elizabeth who was in a stunning obsidian dress.

George had a black suit with a white shirt and black tie. Benton and Atwell chose a navy suit and a black suit respectfully. And you wore the all black Enid had suggested besides a dark red tie instead. Couldn't let her get a complete win.

Your fathers greeted you at the door. Your families weren't ones to show love, but they were proud of you all. You were Hades's favourite servants after all.

T-3 hours until the Rave'n starts.

All three of your families stood in the center of the living room, mingling as you waited for your masters arrival. You had done a sufficient job of avoiding your father, your mother nowhere to be found.... again.

But when you felt his hand on your shoulder and his gruff laugh, your attempts were in vain.

"Y/n" he bellowed out and you flinched at the friendly roughness.

"Father" you said and he came around handing you a blood red cocktail.

You downed it quickly.

"School is going well? hmm? and I heard your football escapades are quite successful" he said grinning down at you.

You nodded begging for the alcohol to hit you in order to pleasantly engage with him.

T-2 hours until the Rave'n starts.

The typical bell sounded as all of you stood up straighter. The fireplace began to shift and contort into a door. Waves of fire encompassed the whole thing and from beyond the dark hole, came Hades himself.

"My favorite, allegiant, exceptional, hounds" he yelled. His tall figure holding a drink dressed in dark black robes. "Are you ready to feast?"

You all were sitting at the long, decorated, feast table. Your older brothers to your right in their own suits. Your father sat at the head of the table, next to Hades himself. Across from you were the Hemingways and at the other end were the Bassets.

The fathers were all talking with Hades on one end and you just played with your food.

"I heard you all have a dance tonight" boomed Hades and you grimaced looking up from your plate.

"Yes" answered George and Hades laughed.

"Any of you fine dogs have girls waiting on you?" he questioned and you grimaced again, "While it sounds childish and trivial I remember being young"

Benton blushed and most of your pack nodded a similar pink shade gracing their faces.

"I would hate for you all to miss it over little old me and I'm feeling generous tonight. If you all leave for the hunt now and we'll work something out, I'll be sure to get you there"

You stood up quickly and gestured to the door. The rest of your pack got up as well. Hades beamed with pride as you lead them out into the night, leaving the parents and the older kids at the table.

You looked back through the open door and he had a wicked smile before speaking to you.

"Go young pup, and kill for me"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your lack of attendance was duly noticed by Wednesday. She was escorted around the room by her date and tried to interact with your friends but your absence was palpable.

So when you walked in with the rest of your pack an hour late looking tired yet vibrant at the same time. Wednesday needed to talk to you.

Unfortunately for her, you caught a glimpse of who she was with.

Tyler Fucking Galpin

Your history with him was short but violent. You had had nothing but passive aggressive encounters any time you went to the Weathervane and the loving stares he gave Wednesday when the two of you would be in there was more than enough to get under your skin.

Yet how could you be jealous? She wasn't your girl. You didn't own her and you sure as hell couldn't control who she decided to be with.

Any other night you would engage with him, give him a run for his money, but you couldn't. Not tonight, no matter how much you wanted to egg him on.

You decided to head in the opposite direction, your pack splitting off, being met with the vampire from the party who had stolen you from Wednesday in the first place.

She sparkled up at you as you made small talk with her.

Wednesday watching the encounter from over Tyler's shoulder felt her fist tighten when the girl grabbed your tie playing with it in a very flirty manner. You just smiled and encouraged her behaviour.

"Tyler could you get us some punch?" she asked to the cheery boy.

"Yeah of course. I'll be right back" he glimmered at her, totally enamored by her.

Wednesday took this opportunity to walk directly towards you. 

She tapped you and you turned from the girl whose name you still hadn't learned.

"I need to talk to you" she said and you nodded.

"I'll be right back" you flashed the girl a smile and Wednesday noticed your canines were a little longer than they were earlier.

"What's up" you asked roughly and she felt like she could finally see you.

Your eyes were a dark shade of red. Your face was littered in small scratches, a smudge of dirt remained on your jaw. She wanted to reach out and wipe it away, just to touch you. Damn the Addams curse.'

"What happened?" she asked bluntly and you looked away from her.

"Nothing"

"I thought we agreed not to lie to each other?" she huffed,

"Nothing important enough for right now" you corrected yourself.

Wednesday bit her inner cheek when it hit her like a truck where you had disappeared to. 

"Why are you here with him?" you asked bitterly, staring daggers at the normie boy from across the room without the boys knowledge.

"He asked me to the dance. He also helps me with things around Jericho sometimes." Wednesday said never taking her eyes off your face watching you clench and unclench your jaw, watching your eyes trace different things in the room.

"He doesn't even go here." you said roughly, "And what could he help you with."

You had a different aura around you tonight. She could feel the death that surrounded you. If she could only touch you, she was certain she could feel it coursing through your veins.

She knew you had hunted tonight, and she was drawn to this side of you. You were assertive, strong, and definitely jealous, and she was oh so attracted to it.

"I fucking hate that kid" you growled just enough for the two of you to hear.

She looked to the young boy and knew he was nothing compared to you standing in front of her. She felt a pull in her heart towards you, tugging at each individual string, playing a melody only you could cause.

Her train of thought was interrupted as you both noticed Tyler headed straight towards you guys, a certain look in his eye. He wanted a fight.

"Fuck off" you growled again and as you turned to leave, Wednesday instinctively grabbed your sleeve.

She had the look in her eye that begged you not to leave and you obeyed.

Whipped mutt you thought to yourself.

"Wednesday, you friends with her?" Tyler asked feigned niceness, settling in to her side.

You wanted to rip him to shreds and you could have, but you controlled yourself for the sake of the girl beside him.

"Yeah actually, we're real good friends" you smirked at him.

He was itching to push your buttons.

"Oh yeah, I'd say Wednesday and I are too. Coffee dates, walks around Jericho" he smirked wrapping his arm around her.

Wednesday could see your muscles flexing straining to hold back from giving Hades one last soul tonight.

"You know Galpin, people like you wind up getting hurt around here." you growled at him

"I think I'll be okay." he smiled and looked to Wednesday.

One part of Wednesday wanted you to unleash yourself on him. Let yourself go and show her your full potential but she knew how that would end and she wanted to keep you around.

"C'mon Wednesday, let's go dance." he said pulling her away from you and she obliged.

You could have gone back to the vampire and get your fix but you were searching for a different fix tonight.

"Hey Bianca, you guys bring anything?" you asked tracing the boy and her through the crowd.

The siren smiled wide and handed you a small flask.

"I thought you'd never ask."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You drank to suppress the urge to kill more people and you drank to suppress the thoughts of Wednesday and Tyler. Coffee dates? Were you fucking serious.

Your brain ran wild imaging them sitting in the same booth as you and her. Sharing her quad over ice. Causing you to grab the flask and chugging the burning liquid.

You let yourself go, dancing wildly with Enid and Ajax, Bianca, Yoko, Kent, even Xavier.

Then the slow song began. Everyone coupled up and swayed to the music.

You found a spot along the wall, watching as Tyler bumbled in trying to dance with Wednesday.

She looked like she wanted to choke him out causing a small smile to grace your lips.

Bianca and Xavier were dancing to all of your surprise. Atwell and Elizabeth might of finally realized their feelings as they swayed to the music awkwardly, expected from them though. Ajax and Enid looked ever happily in love. Benton was charming some girl as he twirled her around the floor.

The vampire approached you and you mentally groaned.

"Would you dance with me?" she asked sheepishly.

To your distain, you agreed. You took her out to the floor and danced with her, making sure to keep a distance though. You kept your eyes away from Wednesday and Tyler at all costs.

When the slow dance wrapped up, the teachers came on the microphone announcing the end of the dance.

All of your friends met up outside, agreeing to walk back to the dorms together. As Wednesday exited you noticed the Galpin kid was gone. She found your side as you all walked chirping about the tonight's dance with the happiness of a child on Christmas.

You and her were quiet though. Listening to your friends with a empathetic smile.

"Did you enjoy your night?" Wednesday broke through,

"Sure" you said giving her a quick glance, "Did you?"

"Tyler was a horrendous dancer and was fawning over me like a cat in heat" she said and you flexed your jaw again,

"Yes he is quite smitten with you" you gruffed and she nudged you

You let out a small laugh, but the pain in your heart was everlasting. She wanted to apologize and tell you that she wished she had gone with you but her words wouldn't come out.

"Do you like him?" you asked bracing for the answer,

"No. He is simply a convenience when I need things in town. The free coffee is nice too."

"But you guys go on dates?" you said staring at the floor again,

"They are not dates." she said sternly

"So you don't have feelings for him?" you clarified and she surprised you by nudging you,

"I absolutely do not have feelings for him. He is merely a convenience."

"Am I?" you began cautiously, "... Am I merely just a convenience...?"

She stopped walking and turned towards you.

"No."

#wednesday addams x reader #jenna ortega x reader #addams x reader #wednesday addams #wednesday

[dreamsontheirway]

The Only One | S.H.

Summary: in which reader has severe anxiety and Steve is the only one who can calm them down. Warnings: anxiety, panic attack Word Count: 0.9k

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You’ve suffered with anxiety and panic attacks for as long as you can remember. As a child, you were so anxious during school that you would hold all your emotions in until you got home, much to your parents’ dismay. Once middle school came around, you were able to recognize that what you were experiencing was anxiety, and it was debilitating.

Your struggles improved slightly as you aged, but you still struggled quite a bit. When you started dating Steve, he helped you significantly. If nothing else, his presence calmed you, but it helped that he seemed to be a natural at comforting you from anxiety and panic attacks.

You had been struggling again recently; the aftermath of everything that had happened finally catching up with you.

After the adrenaline fades away into nothingness, you’re only left with fear.

God, and did it seem that you feared everything these days. Steve was patient with you, despite the frustration you had with yourself for putting him through this. You felt like you couldn’t do anything normal anymore.

That’s why, when your group suggested a casual movie night, you wanted to try. You wanted to at least try to be normal, if just for one night.

“You ready?” Steve’s voice chimed, his face coming into view.

His large hands cupped either side of your face as you nodded up at him. He beamed at you, and leaned in to place a chaste kiss on your forehead before leading you to his car.

The movie night started out fine, with Mike and El cuddling lovingly to your right, and Steve on your left. On the other side of him was Dustin, Lucas, Max, and Erica.

You hadn’t realized just how many people would be attending the get-together. You attempted to choke down the tight feeling in your throat as the movie started.

Steve’s hand on your thigh brought you back to reality slightly, but the dull ache of panic still sat dormant at the bottom of your stomach.

“You alright?” His concerned eyes met yours, and you nodded.

“Yeah,” you spoke, an edge of uneasiness in your statement. Steve noticed, but merely rubbed your leg in response.

At about halfway through the movie, the feeling of anxiety still bubbled up every once in a while. It increased significantly when Steve stood up.

“I’m getting more popcorn. Anyone want anything?”

Everyone shook their head, too focused on the movie. Steve would be the one to get more food in the middle of a movie and risk missing the the most integral point of the plot.

Upon his descent towards the kitchen, your throat constricted at the lack of his warmth next to you. You attempted to cough, trying anything to get the feeling to go away. Unfortunately for you, it came out as more of a strangled noise.

Dustin turned to you, brows furrowed in confusion.

“You okay, Y/N?”

You nodded, attempting to focus on the movie. I swear to god, you thought. If I have a damn panic attack in front of all these people…

Despite your mental protests, all of a sudden the air left your lungs. You gasped, the attention of your friends all snapping from the movie to you.

“Y/N?” A voice spoke, you thought maybe it was Max, but you couldn’t quite tell.

“She’s hyperventilating, she’s going to pass out if she doesn’t stop!” Another voice. Lucas?

“St—” you croaked.

“Steve? You want Steve?” The voice was Dustin’s.

“Steve!”

“What? I’m almost done with the popcorn, hold your horses,” Steve’s joking voice chimes in from the kitchen.

“Steve, it’s Y/N! Get in here!”

Steve bolted from the kitchen, abandoning his popcorn. He was at your side in mere seconds, his hands rushing to your face.

“Baby,” he spoke, frantically. “Look at me. Look at me.”

Your eyes were clenched shut tightly, but you managed to pry them open slightly in order to peer at your boyfriend.

“That’s it, good,” he cooed. “Now follow my breathing.”

You tried, you really tried to follow his breathing, but the panic was encompassing every fiber of your being.

“Baby, you gotta breathe or you’re going to pass out. C’mon, it’s okay, I’m right here.”

His thumb rubbed under your eye, and he exaggerated each of his breaths to demonstrate.

Slowly, your breathing began to return to some semblance of normal. Steve sighed in relief, and rested his forehead against yours.

“What the hell just happened?”

Dustin and the others stared at the both of you, incredulous. Steve could feel your body tense, and he rubbed your arms up and down to comfort you.

“Shut up, Henderson. C’mon, let’s get you home.”

Steve helped you up to a standing position before guiding you towards the door. He instructed you to put your shoes and coat on before making his way back to the others.

“Thanks for yelling for me earlier, guys. Please don’t bring this up around her, okay? She’s going through a lot,�� Steve pleaded with the group, and they all nodded through wide eyes.

Upon seeing you two leave, the rest of the group merely looked at one another in incredulity, surprised by Steve’s ability to calm you down so effectively. The two of you left to return to Steve’s place, to which he ran you a nice bath and you cuddled the rest of the night, him whispering soothing words in your ear.

-----

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#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington headcanon #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction fluff #steve harrington hurt/comfort #steve harrington x you

[teamcuriosity]

On "Uncatchable" Pokemon

No matter your views on battle culture, and particularly trainer culture, it would be outright ignorant to say that it hasn't improved vastly over the past couple decades. From wild captures being significantly less common and more regulated overall to the death of the "gotta catch 'em all" mentality in most regions, trainer culture has globally become more and more conscious to the needs of the pokemon over the benefits to the human trainer. However, there is one aspect of trainer culture that, the niche, has remained persistent and problematic throughout years and years of improvement in nearly every other department. This aspect is the concept of "Uncatchable" pokemon.

Now, to clarify, when I refer to "Uncatchable pokemon", I'm not referring to pokemon of legend status, mythic status, extrauniversal pokemon (commonly referred to as Ultra Beasts), or the Paradox pokemon generated by Professor Sada and Professor Turo's experimentation. These pokemon, though extremely powerful with capture heavily regulated by law, do not fall under the trainer-defined category of "Uncatchable". An "Uncatchable" pokemon is one that cannot be captured or otherwise raised independently. More often than not, this is because the Pokemon in question has a parasitic, symbiotic, or parent-child relationship with another Pokemon that would make it unhealthy or even fatal to force independence.

Two pokemon that fall into the latter category, and are often unfairly targeted by poachers and irresponsible trainers, are the infant forms of Kangaskhan and Rellor. Particularly, these pokemon are often targeted by competitive trainers participating in what are known as "little cup" tournaments—often unofficial tournaments where the primary rule is that only very young, low-level, first-stage pokemon may be used. Though these tournaments do have positive aspects, namely their ability to allow beginner trainers to get a foothold in concepts of battle strategy without feeling intimidated, like all aspects of competitive battling, there are a large subset of trainers who are simply in it to win it all costs with no regard to the pokemon that they use.

Baby Kangaskhan is viewed as a potential meta-changer due to the sheer power of its adult form. However, all known instances of separation between mother and child Kangaskhan have led to severe drops in quality of life for the baby that make it impossible for this pokemon to be a viable battler. The only instance in which a baby Kangaskhan can battle healthily is alongside and through the mega evolution of its parent, and ethics of this practice are hotly debated as there are several cases in which the mother Kangaskhan shows the stress at the side of its child fighting. Though these cases may be chalked up to personality differences between different Kangaskhan, the same cannot be said for separation cases.

Nearly 100% of wild separation cases are fatal, with the sparse few survivors living much shorter and unhealthier lives than their properly raised counterparts. With human intervention, the fatality rate goes down, but the baby Kangaskhan still exhibit symptoms of PTSD, as well as severe mental and physical developmental disorders that leave it essentially stuck in a child-like state for its entire life. Even with human intervention, the separated baby will never learn how to battle, and all moves learned will be ineffective. Many separated babies do not even attempt to battle, perpetually expecting their mother to guard them even though she's gone. Physically, even if these babies make it to adulthood, there will be much more frail and susceptible to illness than their parented counterparts. They will also never develop their adult scales, leaving them more prone to accidental injury and infection. The theories on why this occurs range from the baby having a latent psychic connection to the mother to maternal connection simply being a requirement for healthy development in this particular species, but regardless of what the truth is, all separation cases are harmful to the baby, and throughout the rntire history of training as a sport, no progress has been made in changing this. It is hotly debated whether or not it is ethical to raise a separated baby Kangaskhan to adulthood as a result.

Infant Rellor is even worse. Though Rellor itself is currently viable by most little cup standards, it is also disqualified in many unofficial tournaments due to the existence of infant Rellor and the insistence that, since it is such a vastly different form, Rellor as an independent pokemon is an evolution and cannot qualify. However, this is an entirely unfair and harmful assessment to make, as this infant form cannot exist separately from the parent Rabsca, or even the dung ball it exists within. If the infant Rellor is broken out of this dung ball too early in development, it will die in 95% of cases. The sparse few recorded survival cases have only occurred as result of two factors: a Rabsca (not necessarily the original parent) quickly forming a new dung ball around the infant, and human intervention. Even with these factors at play, survival is still dependent on the stage of development of the infant, any injuries sustained during the removal from the dung ball, and the speed at which it is transported either back into a dung ball or into an artificial gestation tank. Infants broken out of their done ball early also tend to exhibit higher rates of developmental disorders, physical disabilities, and neurological disorders. Universally, their ability to manipulate psychic energy is severely impaired, and many do not exhibit the ability to evolve into Rabsca.

Shellder is a different story. It is a commonly known fact that Shellder experiences drastic physiological changes after clamping onto a host Slowpoke—changes drastic enough to be considered an evolution by some. In certain trainer circles, this debated evolution is known as "Turban", both in reference to the shells of some non-pokemon mollusks as well as the headwear of the same name. With the form-altering venom produced by these pokemon as well as the sharp teeth and powerful jaws, it's been theorized that this form of Shellder may have a water/poison typing and be able to battle if selectively bred and raised to do so.

Unfortunately for the Shellder and Slowpoke evolutions involved in this debate, separation of a Shellder and Slowpoke after evolution is universally detrimental. The Shellder itself will always die unless it is reattached to another Slowpoke, and will be in severe distress the entire time it is detached. It cannot reattach itself due to its body losing the ability to move, and it will not listen to orders from its trainer, blindly biting the air until a new Slowpoke is found. If it is reattached within a few days, it will more than likely survive, but it will produce higher amounts of venom and exert a notably higher bite force in order to ensure it does not get detached again. This often leads to higher levels of intelligence in the Slowpoke evolution, but also higher levels of aggression and resentment towards other living species, particularly the species that separated it. One case documented a Slowking resulting from a detached Shellder that wiped out an entire seaside town in rage-fueled psychic storm. Though it was eventually captured and sent off to a sanctuary, it never fully regained trust in humans.

Comparatively, the Slowpoke experiencing detachment suffers a much harsher fate. There is a persistent belief that Slowbro will harmlessly devolve back into Slowpoke if separated. Though it will eventually devolve—being the only pokemon known to do so—this process is highly stressful to the Slowbro and may result in death. This is due to withdrawals from the Shellder venom as well as neurological and physiological decay. The symptoms can be as mild as flu-like symptoms such as headaches and nausea to as severe as heart palpitations and seizures. It will also lose the ability to walk in a bipedal manner, and will need to re-learn how to fish using its tail.

Slowking separation is almost always fatal for the Slowking. Unlike Slowbro, it is incapable of devolution due to the Shellder venom being a requirement for proper neurological function, and the Shellder is fused to the skull, causing grievous bodily harm once removed. Galarian Slowking have far higher rates of immediate fatality than Kantonian Slowking, but both pokemon will suffer a drastic drop in quality of life after the separation event. Like separated Kangaskhan, it is widely considered unethical to keep a Slowking alive post-separation as it will be unable to maintain a humane quality of life. It will be unable to communicate its needs, unable to eat or drink without assistance, unable to groom itself, incapable of locomotion beyond a flailing crawl, suffer frequent seizures, and be at a high risk of meningitis among many other complications. Though some pokemon rights activists insist that a separated Slowking can be given a new Shellder or even kept alive without one and still live a happy life, these claims are unfounded in veterinary medicine, and the damage caused by a separation event is largely irreversible.

In conclusion, for the health of these pokemon, we need to demystify the concept of "Uncatchable" pokemon. You may have noticed me using quotation marks around the word "Uncatchable" for the duration of this essay. This is because I firmly believe we should not be using this term, as it generates a sense of challenge for a community notorious for enjoying insurmountable challenges. I propose we push to change the terminology to "unethical pokemon" in order to dispell any sense of challenge or mystique. These pokemon are not physically uncatchable. They are simply doomed to suffer if not kept in their pair bond. For trainer culture to move past this stopping block, this is a fact that must be acknowledged.

—Professor Violite Schist (it/they/fae)

#professor schist #team curiosity posts #team curiosity informs #pokeblog rp #pkmn irl #pokeblogging #cw pokemon death #cw pokemon abuse #cw pokemon harm

[seraheart]

I kinda wish that the DetCo canon would do more with the fact that the relationship (I don't mean this in the shipping sense) between Conan and Haibara has been, or at least logically should have been, really strained for a long time.

Originally, they had this development where Haibara was really messed up, overly cautious and trying to force her maladaptive survival psychological issues onto other people, and generally not good at positive interactions. Then, slowly, Conan and the others started gaining her trust (not entirely though), and also her general mental health improved (never completely though).

But then it turned around, and started getting significantly worse. Haibara isn't really in a healing arc anymore. If Aoyama still took her seriously as a character (which, to be fair, I don't think is the case), she would be in a retraumatization arc. Conan and his allies are limiting Haibara's agency, invading her privacy, dismissing her concerns about all this, and pretending that this isn't happening while she can obviously tell that it is happening.

I think the really obvious turning point was the Mystery Train arc. Haibara even called Conan and Agasa out on it and stated that she wouldn't forgive if she were to be treated like that again. Instead of taking her hurt seriously, they just told her she should "be thankful", and dismissed her hurt as "tsundere", refusing to take her trauma seriously after using it and using her as a mere chess piece in their plans (and Akai even triggering her more by gloating about it).

Since then, Haibara has been trapped under the constant, violating supervision of these people who have demonstrated that they don't respect her, and also refuse to acknowledge that the problem even exists. It's not a situation where her recover arc could realistically continue. By all logic, she should be spiraling, getting worse again.

And maybe this is on purpose; Aoyama definitely didn't plan the manga to get this long when he introduced Haibara, and originally the slow-burn of her recovery was a good way to postpone a scenario where Haibara could actually trust Conan enough to give him the kind of information that would lead to the finale arc. But... eventually, even with the extreme slow burn of DetCo, Haibara's recovery arc and relationship development with Conan would have gotten to the point where her continued withholding of crucial information would no longer make sense... and, I guess, rather than start concluding the story at a humanly reasonable rate, Aoyama just opted to nuke Haibara's whole recovery arc and character and relationship development (not only with Conan but also Agasa).

Which could have been tragic but realistic (albeit kind of a major downer out of tune with the manga's usual tone, and upsetting to anyone who had been invested in the slow-burn mental health improvement arc), but then Aoyama can't even be arsed to take it seriously, and is now just pretending that the situation with Haibara and her relationships with Conan and Agasa are still "normal" instead of FUBAR.

It's regrettable and really shows how much everyone dragging out this franchise to milk it for more money just... doesn't actually care about the story anymore, hasn't in a long time. They'll eventually just kill central, fan-favorite, long-running story arcs rather than actually letting them conclude or evolve in a satisfying manner if that would mean risking their precious status quo (which has warped beyond all recognition anyway, so I'm not sure why they bother).

#dcmk criticism #detective conan criticism #haibara ai #edogawa conan #professor agasa #dcmk writing criticism #eternity series #haibara #conan #agasa #by the way the same refusal to let story arcs develop in a satisfying way if it risks status quo #is also warping the shinran relationship development and secret identity issues into something not... good #Aoyama & co. want it to be a positive relationship but they're taking away the capacity for it to be. #the secret identity drama has honestly run its course and they should have updated the situation to Ran finding out #and the characters dealing with the fallout and the development that would have followed #a WHILE ago. #instead it has become a rehash of a rehash of a rehash that makes Conan/Shinichi more and more unsympathetic & less justified each round. #do Aoyama & co. not realise that letting these plotlines evolve would actually be HELPFUL by giving them NEW scenarios to work with?! #I give up #old fan yells at cloud

[mika080]

GaaSaku AO3 2023 Yearly Wrap Up

List of Fanfiction COMPLETED in 2023, on Archive of Our Own.

[I'm trying something here. Tell me if you like.💞]

Prank War by GrimmoftheQueen Gaara walks into Naruto's apartment to find Sakura planning to shove cheese and bologna under Naruto's sheets and now he's got a front row seat to the pranks the two of them play on each other. He starts helping Sakura prank Naruto and ends up hanging out with Sakura more than he thought he would

Broom Closet Diplomacy by AviumR The first time Haruno Sakura manhandled the Fifth Kazekage into the nearest broom closet, she almost caused an international incident. Or: How Sakura chipped away at the Kazekage’s self-control, one broom closet at a time.

A small Help by Carnagebrattish Sakura e Gaara tomando banho juntos numa banheira e tendo momentos doces sozinhos após ajudar Sakura. [Not English]

Secret Love Song: The Sequel by Hina5enpai Idol AU (Direct sequel/picks up right where the first book left off) Endgame: SasuHina GaaSaku NejiTen SaiIno I just want to issue a warning: This story is significantly darker than the first book. It may seem like it won't for the first half, but it WILL have a happy SasuHina/GaaSaku ending. Thanks for reading! After fainting onstage during the last concert of their first tour, Hinata feels too guilty to face her bandmates. Unfortunately, something awful happens before she can speak to them again. Left with no choice, Hinata agrees to give up everything: Sasuke Uchiha, her friends, and even her career. Despite being asked not to interfere, Sasuke refuses to sit by and watch her give up. Even if she ends up hating him, he vows to fix things. Rated M for a reason!

Morning After by FallenInDreams After a night of debauchery, he fell asleep with her in his arms, slept tangled with her in the sheets, and woke with a stupid grin on his face. Gaara was not a morning person, but this, he could get used to. Written for GaaSaku-Fanfests Month 2023 on tumblr. Prompt: Day 22 | Morning After

Demon of Desire by EmmaLouiseLovesFanfiction She just wanted to have her deepest desires fulfilled. Can't blame a girl for trying, right? Even if she didn't think it would happen. Even if she didn't believe in such things. They still seemed to believe in her. He was a figment of her imagination. Until he became real. And his desire for her was only matched by hers.

the living cage by Binxxx Konoha falls to Suna during the Chunin exam invasion, and in the aftermath, Sakura discovers who her soulmate is. Now a prisoner, Sakura laments the day the universe gifted her the idyllic nightmare she calls her soul mate, who is more a labyrinth and beast than he is a man. But he is hers, all the same. The universe gave him to her for a reason…right? AU of "Words that Tie, Ties that Bind", or a "What if Gaara had successfully kidnapped Sakura after destroying Konoha during the Chunin exams?" ↳ Written for GaaSaku FanFest 2023: Day 21: soulmate/soul bond, “what will this cost me?” Day 25: sex pollen, scent/senses, “you smell so good”. Day 26: ptsd/mental illness, bad guy wins, “save me”.

Helping Each Other by QueenHimari Gaara and Sakura have phone sex to help them endure until they can see each other again. Written for GaaSaku Month 2023, Day 8: Long-Distance Relationship.

The "Q" Word Curse by NightingaleFlow Never say the "Q" word within the walls of the hospital. You will regret it.

No More Goodbyes by RiverOfTheSand She watched them saying goodbye for the umpteenth time, wondering how dense Gaara had to be to not notice Sakura's feelings for him. The way Tsunade saw it, she had two choices: get drunk on sakē for the rest of the day, or force Sakura into confessing her undying love to the Kazekage... decisions, decisions. *post-war*

A One Month Bet by Olly_BaaBaaChan A slow-burn, AU Shippuden-era romance. Sakura is sent to Suna to train the medical team, but the Kazekage is skeptical. They make a bet to see if Sakura can single handedly improve the entire unit, but the medic team's skills are not the only thing that blossom during her stay in Suna. Rated M for a variety of reasons. Come for the heavy petting, stay for the drama of a decently crafted plotline. GaaxSaku

Consequence by RiverOfTheSand AU GaaSaku. After three years they were finally over. She was finally free to find someone who deserved her. She just wasn't quite ready for the consequence of that decision. Rated M just in case.

Reason to Breathe by RiverOfTheSand AU GaaSaku. The train stopped suddenly and she fell into his arms. Her panic had disappeared, only to be replaced by a far more pleasant sensation; and she was falling all over again.

Sandbox by mika080 A haiku of undeserving love. . Sand swirls and flowers bloom. Friendship enduring through the sands of time. Kind, serene, acceptance of love.

Dreams of Sand by mika080 Warm fingers touched him. He could still hear her through the screaming.

Phantom of the Opera by mika080 A Phantom of the Opera inspired GaaSaku retelling.

Secret Love Song by Hina5enpai SasuHina/GaaSaku IdolAU COMPLETE WITH SEQUEL IN THE WORKS! Warnings include but are not limited to: Language, Underage-Consumption, Smut, Violence, Abuse Hinata gets the chance of a lifetime with a music contract. Placed in a 4-person idol group, she's on the road to living her dreams. She foresaw an adjustment to her lifestyle. What she didn't expect was to fall head-over-heels for her bandmate: Sasuke Uchiha. ENDGAME SasuHina GaaSaku (short-term pairings throughout) MAJOR Mature Themes/Complete with a sequel in the works!

back on the run (back to the blue) by SafelyCapricious Sakura is on a diplomatic mission to Suna when the coup happens. 

#GaaSaku #fic recs #ff.net #2023 #year wrap up #first time i'm doing this #just trying it out #might lead to more

[forasecondtherewedwon]

remember it once - final chapter

Fandom: The Artful Dodger Pairing: Jack x Belle Rating: E Chapter: 7 / 7 Word Count: 4812

For today's @dodgerfoxweek prompt: happy endings/escape

read on tumblr: one | two | three | four | five | six

Belle’s free to be with him at the hospital as much as she likes now, and Jack’s free to feel all the strong emotions resulting from her being there. Never did he imagine that he would share his profession with his wife (never did he imagine marriage). He loves that he need only turn his head to find her elsewhere in the ward or to spot her through the windows in the doors. He worries, constantly, that she is at risk. He swallows the more uncomfortable fear that she is putting others at risk by being here.

She will be different from the others, those people he treated but could not save. Jack won’t allow it to be otherwise. In the days after Belle was bitten, he monitored the site of her injury. It could be that her diet is what keeps her well—the Governor’s daughter eats better and more often than a child like Alexander did—or that previous exposure, either in London or on the ship back, protects her. Jack doesn’t know whether the disease can be passed through the air. There isn’t time to study factors surrounding transmission, only to manage the effects on the people who come into the hospital. Unlike Prof, at least he orders the windows open to promote circulation of the air.

The possibility that Belle simply doesn’t share the affliction that brings most of Jack’s patients to his ward grows less likely. It’s been six weeks since Al’s death, two since the wedding, when Jack’s denial finally parts like curtains to show him a view of his wife that he’s stubbornly refused to see.

She’s working in the morgue. Once they discovered that the death of people with this particular illness wasn’t exactly binding, they stopped keeping the bodies at the hospital before burial. The room is now a place where Belle likes to conduct her research. Previously, Jack has entered to find her pacing the floor while she mutters to herself, or mixing solutions as she glances rapidly at an open volume on the table where they used to perform autopsies. Today, she sits beneath the window, gaze unfocused.

“Belle?”

“Hmm?”

Jack frowns and moves closer. Confused. It’s the word Charlie used to describe Al, the word Belle used in her story of the man on the ship. There’s some kind of mental decline that accompanies the decay of flesh, and it doesn’t begin with the aggression and physical violence that come immediately before an attack. If a patient can be watched closely, Jack believes, the signs of confusion can possibly be detected at an earlier stage. When one is willing to recognize them.

“Are you alright?” he asks his wife.

He crouches before her and quietly sighs in relief when her gaze sharpens and lifts to his face.

“Yes,” she says. “Yes, of course. I was only thinking.”

“What were you thinking?”

“The child, Anthony—”

“The one who keeps escaping the ward?”

It’s a serious issue, but Jack can’t help his smile. Anthony was bitten by his father and has run to Sneed’s ward in search of him, dodging hospital staff three times. Where the father’s condition is such that a visit with his son would be extremely unwise, Anthony’s is significantly milder; his injury has visibly neither improved nor worsened under Jack’s care. Jack has fledgling ideas as to why this might be—could their biological connection be sparing the child more severe effects? Could the bite be shallower because the father was able to recognize, on some level, the identity of his victim even in the midst of the aggressive haze?

“Exactly.” Belle smiles too. Jack catches the way her hands smooth over her stomach before she folds them in her lap. “Physical activity. Perhaps all Anthony’s escaping is inhibiting the necrosis.”

“It has developed faster in our bedridden patients,” Jack notes thoughtfully.

“If we could have them move around more…”

“How though? That won’t exactly work in concert with our current protocol of strapping them to their beds.”

“Which is rather inhumane. Necessary,” she asserts when Jack opens his mouth to speak. “I know. But inhumane.”

At what point though, Jack wonders, do they acknowledge that these people—these strangers and neighbours, fathers and sons, wives—are suffering from something that is making them inhuman? When they turn on their fellow man? When they rise from the dead? Since meeting Belle, Jack has been locked in a negotiation of how much weight to give life and death. He insists on the harshest realities while she persists in an optimism he’s found more natural to give in to, though which is still not his first impulse.

“It’s a good thought,” he says. “The activity. I don’t know how it will work, yet, but I agree with your thought.”

And he does, and he’s grateful to her for continuing to devise theories when he feels stuck on facts. He smiles at her. She’s done this from the beginning, hasn’t she? Reminded him again and again that there is always another way, that new ways are constantly being discovered, that they can themselves be the innovators by counterintuitively accepting that they don’t yet have the answer to a problem. That’s all this is: a problem. A terrifying, horrific one, but as long as they remain focused…

“What is it?” Jack asks, because Belle’s returned to staring at nothing in particular.

“A thought.”

“Have you already solved it? More fair if you’d at least let me try before you just came up with the answer.”

Belle frowns.

“The answer to what?” she wonders.

“How to allow our patients more physical ac—”

“Physical activity!” she bursts out, brightening. “Exactly! Jack, you know the child, Anthony…”

He nods, but his heart isn’t in it; it’s a function of his body alone. Yes, he knows the child, Anthony. The one Belle mentioned just a minute ago. The one she mentions now as though she didn’t then, presenting him with the same idea he’s just heard.

“I’ll… I’ll leave you to your thoughts,” Jack offers, rising.

Numbly, he exits the morgue. If she were anyone but his wife, anyone he knew had been attacked and personally witnessed them displaying memory troubles, he would go straight to the ward for reinforcements, find her a bed, continue to treat her wound while privately accepting that he was watching a decline from which he’d yet to see a patient recover. But he can only step into the hallway and bury his face in his hands.

He’s been a fool, thinking it could last.

—

The next blow doesn’t so much nudge them—the hospital, the colony, Jack’s stoic equilibrium—gently across a delicate tipping point as shove them out a second-storey window.

Sneed is bitten.

He does something Jack wouldn’t have anticipated: he begs for amputation. The only bright side is that Jack gets to slap him across the face to stop him panicking in front of the patients. After that, he drags the man out of the ward and stares at him with exasperation.

“Are you mad?” Jack demands. “I need you here, damn you!”

It’s worrying that Sneed doesn’t preen at the words, or seem to hardly notice them.

“Only my foot, Dawkins,” Sneed insists with wide eyes, both frightened and frightening.

“Well, yes, if we’re ranking the extremities it would be least inconvenient, as a surgeon, to lose, the foot’s not bad. It’s not a hand. But I do not have time to wait for you to recover from an amputation!”

“If we do it quickly though—immediately—now—before the disease can spread… I know you won’t make a pig’s ear of it, Dawkins.” Sneed swallows. “I trust you.”

“You certainly weren’t in favour of amputation when Fagin shot you in the leg. Have you forgotten the bit where I would be putting a large blade to your skin and sawing like the dickens?” Jack mimes the operation.

This, at last, appears to penetrate Sneed’s skull.

“I… can bear it. I am the finest surgeon in the—” Jack gives him a look and Sneed amends, “I am the second-finest surgeon in the colony. I will endure the pain.”

“Are you certain? Because you did yelp rather loudly when I slapped you in the ward.”

Sneed doesn’t grace this remark with a response. Jack sighs.

“If it’s what you want, I’ll do it. You know I can’t promise it’ll save you, and that I must impress upon you that you are here to heal others. This hospital cannot afford to lose a surgeon. Not now. The wards are full, as are the graveyards. We’re exhausted, and one less surgeon would increase the strain. But I’ll do it,” he repeats.

Jack watches Sneed’s jaw clench before he nods, making up his mind.

“I’ll clean the wound and get back to work.”

Jack deflates, relieved, not having realized how tensely he was holding himself at the thought of carrying on with Belle already inhibited, and then without Sneed. They’ve been losing nurses as well—the staff who interact with the patients most. Jack is endlessly thankful that Hetty has never once walked into a ward without her wits about her.

He claps Sneed on the shoulder in thanks and they exchange a look. How much is Jack asking him to give up by talking him out of the surgery? His health? His life? Likely both, if Jack examines it too closely, but he sees the weary comprehension in Sneed’s eyes and believes he would have stopped the surgery as he did the last time, when a drunken Prof stuffed a wooden rod between his teeth and told him to bite down.

Sneed glances down and Jack follows his gaze as he lifts his foot.

“Bloody woman bit straight through my boot.”

“Wound shouldn’t be too deep,” Jack reasons. “It’s given you some protection.”

“Sod protection. I brought these from Oxfordshire.”

“Sneed, you make it very hard to tell how quickly your disease is progressing.”

“What do you mean by that?” Sneed retorts.

“It’s just that so much of what you say smacks of severe cognitive damage.”

This time, it’s Sneed who slaps Jack. He’s rubbing at the sting, disgruntled but willing to admit the justice of the act, when Hetty comes marching towards them.

“Whenever you’re both ready to be doctors again, gentlemen, the rest of us would appreciate your assistance.”

“It’s Sneed’s fault,” Jack feels compelled to say, even if it does come out sounding petulant. “Values his boots above his life.”

“Remind me, what is your position at this hospital?” Hetty asks archly.

“Head Surgeon.”

“Then I would suggest acting like it.” She turns and heads back into the ward, calling over her shoulder, “Or I’m telling your wife!”

Jack looks to Sneed—wrongly, but it’s an impulse—for commiseration, only to find the prat smirking at him.

“Tattled on to your wife,” he taunts.

“At least I’ve got a wife,” Jack snips back. “Back to work before I put you out on your ear.”

“You wouldn’t. You need me.”

Damn. So he did register that after all.

—

The day Belle tells him she’s carrying his child is the same day Jack meets with Governor Fox and the new Gaines to discuss barricading the hospital. To keep them out or us in? he doesn’t ask, because it doesn’t matter, because the danger is within and without, because Jack has Fagin watching Belle to make sure she doesn’t wander into a ward during one of her distracted periods. There’s far too much on his mind and he finds himself agreeing with the proposal.

“Perhaps if I had rerouted the drainage when Jane suggested… noxious vapours…” the Governor says vaguely. Jack pats his arm.

There isn’t much use in thinking backwards. He nods, knowing his approval isn’t really needed, that his disapproval wouldn’t have stopped the military doing as they please. He nods because it feels like control, even as he’s agreeing to a decision that Belle, in a healthier state, would berate him for, reminding him of the inhumanity already inflicted upon their patients by tethering them down where they lie. What’s another barrier between these people and their freedom when the worse barrier is the one the disease has been erecting in their minds, dividing men, women, and children from themselves?

It’s as if Jack sleepwalks to tell Hetty the news. He knows he can count on her to be measured in her response, outraged yet taking it in stride, because it’s what must be done. There are too many cases of the disease. Barring the hospital’s doors means some people who seek treatment will go without, but it will protect the safety of those inside—patients and staff. Jack’s heard terrible things; in a combined effort, Flashbang and Aputi have taken to blasting to bits any corpse that begins to reanimate. It’s horrendous—both physically and morally disgusting—but Aputi told Jack he saw one of them in the graveyard, saw from a distance as it found… well, a piece of what remained after you threw explosives into a shallow pit of dead bodies. They aren’t just biting anymore. At least not with their fellow dead. They’re consuming.

He's preparing himself to let Hetty know they’re about to cross an invisible boundary, beyond which he won’t blame her if she leaves. Unlike Sneed, Hetty’s always been important to him. Unlike Sneed, Hetty hasn’t been bitten.

Jack makes sure she sees him coming when he approaches her in the ward. They go to the office that became his when Prof retired.

“I’m going to be a father,” is what comes out of his mouth.

“Oh,” Hetty says.

It’s a kinder response than it might’ve been, considering even Jack finds it difficult not to immediately add, Of course, I know we’re doomed, or to defend himself, swear that it didn’t just happen, because sex has hardly been a priority, and since Belle was attacked, she’s slept in a different bedroom, locked herself in. The way he looks at Hetty begs, Help me.

Gently, she says, “You’d better hurry up and find a cure then.”

“I don’t even know where to begin.”

“That’s because you’re exhausted. We all are.”

Jack shakes his head.

“It’s because concocting solutions is very much my wife’s forte. Whereas mine is…”

When nothing comes to him, Hetty supplies, “Keeping this hospital running. Barely,” she adds with a smile, “but running. Thank goodness we don’t have Prof underfoot.”

“He’d have been bitten the first day,” Jack has to agree. “Definitely for the best that he decided to wait it all out from the comfort of his libations cabinet. I mean, his home. Speaking of… you could as well.”

“Join Prof in a tipple?”

He knows she’s joking, and he humours her with a slight smile.

“Leave,” he says. “While you can. The military are going to barricade the hospital. Soon.”

And then Jack explains all the reasons why he went along with it while Hetty, rightfully, looks at him furiously.

Finally, she says, “I suppose you didn’t have a choice.”

“No.”

“And you want me to leave? Your best nurse? The most competent person in this hospital?”

“I don’t want you to leave, I want you to live,” Jack clarifies desperately. “Like Tim. He and Red—”

“No one’s heard from Red and Tim in days,” Hetty reminds him.

“They were smart. I’m sure they went to the bush, away from town. But you could leave another way. This is a port. Get aboard a ship!”

“And you?”

He hangs his head, avoiding Hetty’s gaze.

“Belle couldn’t go. When she worsens, she’ll be a danger to others.”

Hetty doesn’t argue.

—

They have dinner at Jack and Belle’s house, as a family. He still finds it incredibly strange to be hosting the Governor, to see Lady Fox and Fagin seated at the same table—a table that belongs to Jack, of all people. Sturdy and unscuffed. Never been anyone’s but his.

After Jack made the announcement to the rest of his staff, Sneed practically forced him and Belle out, stating that they needed a normal night. Possibly their last for quite a while.

His wife is at the table too, and he watches her parents and sister look at her in a way he knows she probably notices, even if she’s not saying anything about it. They know about her condition—both of her conditions—and regard her with expressions of mixed wariness and concern.

“How does Dr. Sneed fare?” Fanny pipes up during a lull in conversation.

“Well,” Jack is able to tell her honestly. “He was very fortunate to have had a barrier between the patient and his skin—”

“He was bitten through his clothes?” she asks, eyes lit up and speech a bit breathless. Jack stomachs the reaction with difficulty.

“Through his boot.”

“The bite was very nearly just a graze,” Belle contributes, “except that the woman who bit him had rather sharply tapered incisors, which were able to—”

“Yes!” Fanny says shrilly, smiling too hard. “Enough!” She dismisses the topic with an anxious flutter of her hands before apparently remembering some of her manners. More composed, she adds, “Please tell Dr. Sneed I wish him a swift recovery.”

Jack and Belle share an unsettled look.

“I am certain they will, darling,” Lady Fox assures her daughter.

Jack cares for his new sister, but he doesn’t believe in diminishing the severity of the outbreak in order to soothe her nerves. Spending so much time in the hospital, he’s forgotten to account for the fact that those who haven’t don’t know what he, Belle, Hetty, Sneed, and the others in the wards do. They might know people are dying, but not how many. They might understand that the hospital is attempting to treat people, but not that they don’t have a single recovered patient to show for their efforts. He’s trying to think of a tactful way to explain this when his wife jumps in.

“Actually, that isn’t likely, Fanny,” Belle says. “Dr. Sneed may not be seriously hampered by the disease for some time, but he will sicken, and he will die, like all the rest.”

“Belle,” Jack says, terribly soft.

“Like me,” she continues.

Total silence follows her words, until Fanny bursts into tears.

“That’s not very helpful,” Belle comments.

“Forgive my wife,” Jack says, hating to treat her as someone for whom he must take responsibility, but feeling compelled in the wake of her sister’s distraught response. “She’s not herself.”

“My husband is correct,” Belle tells their assembled family. “And I will be even less myself as the disease progresses. Without a cure, I doubt…”

Her bravado fails her. Jack sees her slip a hand off the table to touch her stomach. With her dressed, the curve is imperceptible, but he’s seen it uncovered. He’s sure she was about to say she doubts she’ll live long enough for the baby to be born. His throat tightens.

“We need to redirect our efforts, that’s all,” Jack says, fighting back tears. “Devote all our energy to finding a cure, as you say.”

“How?” Belle’s eyes are desperate, locked on his as they ignore the rest of the room. “You hardly leave the ward, and I need help. I don’t… trust myself. In the meantime, more people are contracting this disease.”

“I’ve heard rumours,” Fagin says, and they turn to stare at him. “Someone’s hired a ship. Standin’ in the ’arbour even now, she is.”

“How is this relevant?” Jack demands.

“Because it’s them who did it.” He’s carried on eating during the conversation, the picture of ease, and now he gestures to Governor and Lady Fox with his fork. “Getaway ship, I heard.”

“Getaway ship?” Belle echoes, turning on her parents.

The Governor starts to babble, but Lady Fox gets right to the point: “Yes. Our family is leaving the colony.”

“You can’t put Belle on a ship,” Jack says. “She has the disease.”

“Yes, and she’ll have you there to treat her.”

His mind stumbles over the fact that Lady Fox apparently includes him in her notion of family. He recovers.

“What, both of us leave?” he checks, baffled.

“I am sure Dr. Sneed is perfectly capable of taking care of things at the hospital.”

“No, he’s not,” Jack says. His voice is rising without his permission. “I don’t even mean to deride Sneed, but if there’s one thing he isn’t, it’s capable. And it’s not his bloody fault! The man’s injured, soon to fall ill, and it’s becoming mad out there.”

“Which is why,” Lady Fox says measuredly, “we will not remain here.”

Jack can feel it—he’s about to shove his chair back, jump to his feet, and start yelling.

But Belle says, “You’re quite right, Mother. You shouldn’t stay, it isn’t safe.” She looks to Jack as she continues to address her words to her mother. “You should take as many healthy people with you as you can.”

“There must be room for us to travel comfortably,” Lady Fox replies.

“Well, I’m not going, so that’s one space to fill.”

“Neither am I,” Jack says, feeling relief in his chest as it suddenly becomes easy. He smiles at Belle, but she doesn’t smile back.

“You are,” she says.

“No, Belle, I’m staying with you, wherever you are.” He thinks she might be edging into confusion, too much distress. He recalls the way their patients will become more aggressive with too much commotion.

Her eyes are perfectly lucid.

“I know that’s what you want,” she says, “but what you need is an opportunity to work on a cure. Somewhere you’re not exhausted and constantly interrupted and in danger.”

“I’d have no idea what I was doing!”

“You’ll take my notes. And Hetty. Hetty deserves a place on that ship if anyone does.”

“Yes, but—”

“Why don’t we all retire to the parlour?” Fagin suggests to the others. He throws a wink Jack’s way and Jack nods back distractedly.

“There are people who need you,” Belle says when they’re alone. She’s sitting sideways on her chair and Jack has drawn out the one beside hers. He clutches her hands between his.

“You’re not one of them?” he asks, hurt beyond words or measure.

“I need you to live. That is what I need. Let me save you this time. You will board that ship in the harbour. You will—yes, Jack,” she says when he opens his mouth to argue. “You will take as many healthy people aboard as you possibly can. Take the contents of the laboratory. Take my notes. Work on finding a cure and I promise you that I will do the same. This is not giving up.”

Belle smiles though tears roll down her cheeks.

“Keep my family safe,” she requests.

Jack takes her face in his hands.

“You are my family.”

They leave it there for now.

They leave it there for two days, and on the third day, a man with necrotic skin extending from raw wounds on his neck and chest gets past the preliminary guard the military have set up and comes barrelling into the hospital.

It’s chaos as Jack instructs Hetty to barricade their ward from the inside. He sprints to Sneed’s domain, but Sneed’s heard the intruder and already shut himself inside. He gives Jack a grim nod through the window, and then Jack is running, flying, to the morgue. To Belle. He can hear thudding, uneven steps behind him, like those of a drunken man.

Belle meets him coming up the stairs, and when she thrusts him aside, he isn’t expecting it and is tossed back. He sees the man—dull-eyed and intent on the pair of them—and then he sees him knocked off his feet, an arrow protruding from his chest. Jack stares at his wife in awe as she lowers her bow.

“That will’ve been enough to kill him,” he says dazedly.

“Unless he’s not the sort to stay killed,” she says. “Come on. Fagin’s been keeping my sword in your old room for me.”

All Jack can do is scramble after her, really feeling that he should be the one protecting her—except that he’s shit with a bow and arrow, and he doesn’t relish being reminded.

They retrieve Belle’s sword and go back to the man, who’s begun to stir.

“Very not-dead,” Jack diagnoses.

He stands aside and waits. When Belle doesn’t act immediately, he studies her face. It goes against their very purpose of doing no harm to intentionally kill the man before them. She shot an arrow into him in defence of Jack though, and he doesn’t think it would be possible to corral someone already so far advanced into the disease, to subdue him and take him to a ward, to strap him to a bed. It’s too great a risk. He’ll have to die (again?).

“Give me the sword,” he says to Belle.

Just then, the man lurches upright and his wife draws back her arm, slashing into his neck. It won’t be enough, and Belle’s breathing is quick and shallow.

“I can finish it,” she tells him before he says anything.

“I know you can.” They look at each other. He sticks out his hand and she thrusts the sword’s handle into his palm. “Don’t watch.”

—

At daybreak, the hospital will be under full military guard, no one in or out, food and bodies passed through a designated door—the one near the pit they used to dump amputated limbs into, where a strong solution of carbolic acid used to be enough to dissolve the dead without them reinvigorating and attempting to spread the disease they’re still trying to understand.

Behind him is the ship. Ladies Jane and Fanny Fox are already aboard. Hetty and Flashbang. Charlie and other children whose bitten parents cannot make the journey. Others, advocated for by Belle, who stood up to her mother to do so, who broke her mother’s heart by refusing to change her mind about coming with them.

Jack stands on the dock, knowing what they’ve promised one another, he and Belle. You told me once you would get on a ship for me, she reminded him moments ago. She’s more beautiful than he’s ever seen her, cast in the fleeting grey light before dawn. They hold hands. He can feel her ring.

I won’t be alone, she said.

Sneed will continue to work alongside her, of course. As will Aputi and Prof, who’s emerged from his stupor to recognize the severity of the situation and returned to the hospital in the position of Temporary Head Surgeon (Sneed is fuming, Jack knows).

The Governor has elected to stay behind as well, blustering about “going down with the ship, so to speak.” Noble, Jack thinks, if mostly a lie. He stays for his child. Jack longs to do the same, sliding his hand over Belle’s stomach as they embrace, but they’ve had this conversation. They’re doctors, formal credentials or not, both deeply loyal to the ideal of serving the people of Port Victory. Through separation, they double their chances of coming up with a cure. This is what they tell themselves. Jack holds Belle and never wants to pull away. He presses his lips to her temple.

When they draw apart at last, Belle rushes to her father, falling into his arms. Jack’s own father approaches him with his loping, unhurried walk. His eyes speak before his mouth opens.

“You’re still me number one, Dodge. Fancy Skirt’s just borrowin’ me for a little while.”

“Thank you. Fagin.” Jack chops up his gratitude, uncertain of his voice, which threatens to rend wetly.

“Just so you’re prepared, my dear, I will be suggestin’ your missus name the baby after Granddad”—he taps his own chest—“should you not scurry back in time to name ’im yourself.”

“Could be a girl,” Jack points out.

“Norberta, then.”

“That’s dreadful.”

“Piss off,” Fagin says, reaching out and giving Jack’s shoulders a fond squeeze.

There’s no finer farewell, as far as Jack’s concerned.

He sniffs and gives them another look: Belle bracketed by Governor Fox and Fagin, whose arm she slips her hand through when he joins them. Jack stretches out the moment, eyes on his wife’s face.

What if I don’t remember? Belle asked him.

I’ll remember it twice, he said. Once for me and once for you.

Remember it once, she requested, because love has bound us so tightly there is hardly a distinction.

Once then. I think I put my heart into your chest that day.

She took his hand and placed it to feel the beat.

And I have kept it. Jack turns and strides up the gangplank. The blazing sun appears, standing on tiptoe to kiss the horizon.

#dodgerfoxweek2024 #my writing #The Artful Dodger #dodgerfox #Dr. Jack Dawkins #Lady Belle Fox #Hetty Baggett #Rainsford Sneed #Norbert Fagin #Lady Fanny Fox #Lady Jane Fox

[acciomorningstar]

Shattered

Story tags: Hogwarts Legacy, Angst, Hurt/Comfort (kinda), Poppy Sweetingxgn!MC Characters: gn!MC, Poppy Sweeting, Sebastian Sallow, Ominis Gaunt, Natsai Onai, Amit Thakkar, Garreth Weasley, Imelda Reyes Synopsis: After MC is permanently scarred at the repository battle, they will have to adjust to a new normal – which is proving to be their most difficult challenge yet

Warnings for heavy angst, mental/physical scarring and disabilities, depression

Reread my previous angst post and got inspired, so I decided to try my hand at something heavier. It turned out longer than I expected, but I'm proud of the end product, considering I usually suck at bittersweet storytelling lol Significantly heavier than most of my previous posts on here, so tread with caution.

While relief took hold among the students of Hogwarts and things soon returned to a sense of normal after Ranrok’s attack, for some the struggle was only beginning. Poppy had attempted to find MC in the wake of the repository battle, but all she was told was that Professor Fig had perished and MC had been critically injured, having been directly transported to the infirmary once their unconscious body had been retrieved from the rubble. She wasn’t allowed to visit, so her only resort was to hassle the nurse for details whenever she was able to. Eventually, she managed to find out that MC was being sustained in a magical coma as the pain of being awake was likely to tear them apart. It wasn’t so much a matter of when they would wake up – it was whether they would ever wake up at all.

The news took its toll on MC’s entire inner circle. Sebastian and Ominis bickered less, Natty was strangely absent-minded during classes, Amit’s marks in Astronomy tanked to the point where Professor Shah constantly asked whether he’d taken ill, Garreth’s concoctions noticeably suffered from the absence of his potion companion, and even Imelda seemed more prickly than usual.

Poppy herself wasn’t faring much better. She woke up sick to her stomach every day without any news about MC, and she found that her usual pastimes weren’t doing much to keep her mind off things either.

And then, after a few agonising months and a lot of sleepless nights, news came that MC’s condition was stabilising. The nurse cautioned that they were by no means out of the woods yet, but at least they were allowed to have visitors over.

Poppy made her first visit along with Natty, who had also jumped at the opportunity to see their friend. MC was barely responsive when they stood at their bedside, and the nurse told them to get out after five minutes because they needed rest.

“All those scars… there were so many of them,” Natty said, shaking her head as they walked back through the corridors. “I cannot even begin to imagine how they will ever bear the pain if they regain consciousness.”

“They are still the same person underneath,” Poppy insisted. “You’ll see.”

She knew she was mostly talking to herself, but the alternative was simply too painful to consider. And for a while, things genuinely seemed to be improving. After a few weeks, she received news that MC was finally awake and responding, and she rushed to the infirmary so fast that people in the corridors looked at her with shocked faces and asked whether there was an emergency.

Upon arriving at the infirmary, she noticed MC’s bed had been moved to a sectioned-off corner in the back of the hall. It was for the wellbeing of the other patients, the nurse explained – MC had developed a habit of waking up screaming every night, to the point where it had become an active obstacle to the recovery of their fellow patients. As horrified as Poppy was to hear this, it was even less of a shock than the sight she was confronted with once the curtain was drawn back. Fresh scars ran up the right side of MC’s body, all the way up to their face, which looked as if it had been cut up with a knife. Purple veins stood out under the almost transparent skin near their right eye, which appeared strangely discoloured. When Poppy looked down, she noticed an unmistakable tremble in their burnt hands.

“Poppy,” MC said in a raspy whisper, “is that you?”

“Yes, my love,” she answered, having to suppress the quiver in her own voice as she gently took one of MC’s hands. “I’m here.”

MC seemed disoriented, so she had to remind them where they were and explain how they ended up here. Her heart broke when they asked where Professor Fig was – she debated internally whether she was the right person to tell them, but she didn’t want to lie to them either. When she told them the truth, MC just sat there against the pillow, their brow furrowing as they tried their best to understand. Then the tears came, and the screaming, and all of a sudden it wasn’t clear anymore whether MC was wailing out of sadness or out of pain, and Poppy ended up holding them until the nurse hastily arrived and instructed her to leave.

For all the lack of news in the last couple of weeks, there suddenly seemed to be an awful lot of it… MC was regaining strength in the parts of their body which weren’t affected by Ranrok’s magic, but it wasn’t like there were a lot of those left to begin with. Their eye wasn’t healing and at this point this likely meant they would end up losing half of their vision; the tremble in their hands persisted and they barely had any mobility left in their right arm, but the worst news she was told by MC in person. Apparently, the magic had eaten away at the nerve system in their spine, which would likely leave them all but paralysed from the waist down for the rest of their life.

“They say I’ll never be able to walk again,” MC sobbed at her through a mist of tears. “Never play Quidditch again, never again climb the hills or swim in the lake –”

Poppy simply held them as they cried. She didn’t say anything, lest her voice betrayed the tears burning in the corners of her eyes.

The inner circle and the school faculty tried their best to accommodate MC however they could. As soon as MC was allowed to leave the infirmary for short periods of time, professors accompanied them to help levitate their wheelchair up stairs so they were able to attend classes. Whenever MC was too tired to leave their bed, the professors would organise little private classes at their bedside. Sebastian and Ominis would indulge them with late-night chats about their personal experiences with living with a disability. Natty would entertain her with stories about her homeland, staying with them to ease their path into deep slumber, after which she’d watch over them. Amit made sure to supply them with notes to help them keep up with schoolwork, Garreth frequently dragged his potion kit all the way up to the infirmary to brew new concoctions next to MC’s bed (much to the chagrin of the nurse), and Imelda personally escorted MC to every Quidditch match, jinxing everyone who gave them as much as a funny look. Sometimes it would even feel as if things had truly returned to something resembling normalcy – if it wasn’t for MC freezing up at every strike of lightning or explosion in the corridors, or bursting into tears whenever someone as much as mentioned the name of Professor Fig.

In spite of everyone’s monumental efforts, no one was as devoted to taking care of MC as Poppy. She visited the infirmary and offered to push them around the castle as often as she was allowed to, and if she wasn’t she would spend her hours holed up in the library and interrogating Professors about any means to alleviate MC’s suffering. People started commenting on the bags under her eyes and she had to give up most of the free time she’d usually spend caring for beasts, but those were sacrifices she was willing to make.

Which didn’t mean that things were getting any easier. She had her own life, and juggling commitments had never been her strong suit. Moreover, the more time she spent with MC, the more often she would find herself at the receiving end of their outbursts of frustration and self-loathing. One particularly nasty fight came after she had taken Highwing out for a flight, only to suddenly remember that she’d promised to take MC out to the courtyard for some fresh air.

“I am so sorry,” she gasped as she stormed into the infirmary, cheeks flushed from exertion. “I was caring for Highwing and I lost track of time –”

MC looked up at them from their wheelchair, a cold expression on their scarred face. “Oh, don’t bother with excuses,” they said. “I’m sure your beasts need your help more than I do.”

The sneer struck her like a hot arrow to the chest, but she knew not to take it personally. “Don’t be silly,” she answered as she walked up to them. “You know there’s nowhere else I’d rather be –”

“Please,” MC scoffed. “You’re only here because you pity me. Guess that’s all I get for risking my neck for a bunch of stupid birds.”

She felt something different now, a fit of hot anger bursting its way up from her core. “How can you say all of those things? You know, I haven’t had a single proper night of sleep since they found you under that rubble, and I’ve been sacrificing everything to help you when all I get in return is anger and resentment –”

“Well, I’m so sorry to inconvenience you!” MC snapped back, their voice cracking. “Next time I run into Ranrok, I’ll just ask if he finishes the job, all right?”

“Please,” Poppy said, tears running down her cheeks, “you don’t know what you’re saying –”

“I don’t want your help!” MC shouted at her, before hunching forward in their wheelchair, crying out in pain as they clutched their sides. Poppy took an instinctive step forward, reaching out to help them, but the nurse pushed her away, telling her to leave. She did as she was told, and ended up crying herself to sleep.

They made up, eventually, as they always did. But the argument revealed an underlying truth which was slowly becoming undeniable. Poppy was pouring all of herself into MC’s well-being, to the point where she didn’t have much more left to give. She knew it, felt it, but still she toiled on, not knowing what else to do.

A few weeks after their fight, Poppy was called to the garden above the Hufflepuff common room. Upon her arrival, she saw MC sitting on a balcony, facing the lake. They had their eyes closed and the sunlight gave their face an ethereal glow, which made even the scars look less gruesome.

“Hello,” Poppy greeted them with a smile, kneeling next to them. “You look well.”

“Better than I’ve felt in a long while, that’s for certain,” MC chuckled. They extended their good hand to her and she took it, gently rubbing her thumb over their skin. MC’s expression grew sober. “Poppy, I’ve given this a great deal of thought. The lengths you all have gone to these past few months to accommodate me – I… I will be forever indebted to you all, and to you especially. You’ve given meaning to every minute of my life since I met you, even if it was at your own expense… I would never have dreamed of anyone ever doing that.”

“The feeling is entirely mutual,” Poppy answered. “You… you have touched so many lives around you, MC… if only you could see that the way I do –”

MC smiled. “I know. But I can’t allow you to keep throwing away all of that because of me. That’s why I’ve made the decision to leave.”

“Leave?” Poppy asked, feeling her heart stop. “But… to where?”

“To a place where I’ll be able to live in peace. I know telling you this would hurt, but I can’t keep going like this, Poppy, not with everyone looking at me with pity in their eyes and feeling like a burden to every person I care about,”

“But you’re not,” Poppy insisted, tears welling up in her eyes, “you can’t give up now, there’s so many things we still haven’t tried –”

“Poppy, listen,” MC said, and they winced as they brought their hand up to cup her cheek. “You’re so much stronger than you think. You’ve escaped from a terrible existence and built up an entirely new life for yourself. There’s so much you’re still going to achieve, you can’t let all of that go to waste just for me,”

“But that choice isn’t yours alone to make. You don’t deserve any of this –”

“Maybe not. Bad things happen to good people, you of all people should know that. But this is the only thing I’m able to do to repay you for all you’ve done, and it might very well be the last choice I’ll ever be able to make – so please, let me make it.”

Poppy finally broke out sobbing, leaning against MC’s shoulder as the tears flowed freely. MC gently stroked her hair, feeling something moist running down their own cheek.

“I-I’ll never forget you,” she sniffled, her voice barely above a whisper.

MC planted a kiss on top of their head. “Never.”

And so, life went on. MC left Hogwarts, and after a while they even disappeared from daily conversations as people found new things to laugh and worry about. Poppy found it hard to pick her life back up at first, often still ending up at the infirmary with the intention to ask about MC or visiting Professor Weasley for counsel. She didn’t get back into her shell as far as friends were concerned, however. MC wouldn’t have wanted her to, and she was determined to do right by their memory.

Eventually, she was able to move on – though she would never forget the day that one new fifth-year came to Hogwarts and changed her life, for the better.

#hogwarts legacy #harry potter hogwarts legacy #poppy sweeting x mc #poppy sweeting x reader #poppy sweeting #sebastian sallow #ominis gaunt #natsai onai #amit thakkar #garreth weasley #imelda reyes #angst #trauma

[sacchxrine05]

Had a thought while barely conscious in bed this morning and I feel the need to exorcise it.

(tw for discussions of eating disorders like ARFID and things of that ilk)

I think about Sherlock a lot (too much) and one of the things that’s kinda captured my attention recently is his eating habits. I’m going through a rough patch with eating myself, and usually when this happens I think of ACD Sherlock saying smthn along the lines of ‘I don’t eat while working on a case, digestion slows me down.’ (that might be a BBC Sherlock thing but I can’t quite remember lmao)

I imagine YNM Sherlock is similar or the same in this case, as we rarely see him eat (off the top of my head I think he ate a cherry at the bar during A Study in S in the anime and then both a sandwich with John on the roof and the floor sandwich Milverton tried to use to humiliate them with, although that was more to prove a point than to get any sustenance from it) and at least once John has reprimanded him for not eating enough. Sherlock is also quite messy and doesn’t often see the point in cleaning as, in his mind, it’s a waste of time and he might have this view when it comes to preparing a meal to eat.

I’m pulling a lot from my own experience here, but with eating disorders like ARFID it’s hard to find motivation to eat/prepare food, and I can imagine Sherlock often feels this way when he gets into a slump between cases or something like that. And although there’s nothing to really prove that he has an aversion to certain foods due to a sensitivity in taste/texture (I imagine his senses are quite heightened in order to make some of his deductions) he probably does stick to a select few foods both because he probably can’t afford many varieties of food and also because his idea of a meal is something quick that he doesn’t have to take time out of his day to prepare.

Miss Hudson has cooked for Sherlock and John on occasion, although I don’t think this is a very regular occurrence given their dynamic. However, she probably does make something for one or both of them if she thinks he hasn’t been eating enough recently.

Sherlock probably also gets quite hyper focused on cases when they come up (even more so when the Lord of Crime pops up) and so he doesn’t always notice when he’s hungry since it’s not something he’s really thinking about. Also, smoking cigarettes can reduce your appetite and with the way Sherlock smokes he’s definitely not realising how hungry he is until he’s on the brink of starvation. Also drugs…enough said there.

Idk, I just think it’s interesting and especially with how the fandom tends to put Liam as the one who doesn’t eat enough while Sherlock is the exasperated one trying get him to eat something goddamnit. Such a dynamic isn’t exactly wrong per-say, and I believe it says in the character profiles that Sherlock gained some weight post fall, most likely thanks to Billy poking and prodding him into eating and also working regularly and therefore have more of a desire to eat, especially after taking on missions with a lot of field work. He also probably wanted to set an example for Liam so that he eats more too. And he stopped smoking and doing drugs, so that probably improved things quite a lot too.

But like anything to do with mental health and disorders, things come and go in waves and it’s likely Sherlock would have moments where he ‘relapses’ and will go a long time without eating much or just feeling generally unmotivated to make food on top of nothing really appealing to him taste-wise y’know?

I think it’s also this dumb sort-of-headcannon of mine that makes me generally less keen on art/fics that portray Sherlock as being significantly larger/broader than Liam and I don’t mean the slight difference between their figures in the official art/manga/anime I mean like a noticeable difference you know?

Cus I mean…Sherly has muscle cus of his martial arts(?) training and maintaining that through his work, but he’s also a skinny coke addict who smokes too much and eats too little, there’s not going to be an insane difference between him and Liam like some ppl like to portray, y’know?

But anyway, people will always view characters differently and do what they want with them in their fanworks, it matters very little in the end lmao

If you made it this far thank you for listening to me ramble, I hope it wasn’t too nonsensical TuT

#yuukoku no moriarty #moriarty the patriot #sherlock holmes

[literatureatthebowofnails]

A/N: Finally got around to finishing this one.

Series masterlist

Pairing: Loki x reader

Summary: The Avengers conspire to keep love alive

You stand on the train exhausted, travel mug hanging from one hand, your second cup of coffee gone before its time. Head lulling against your arm, you're jostled against fellow commuters as you mentally review your "To Do" list.

Two weeks left to decide whether or not to renew your lease. You're seeing a couple of places after your shift. One's in the South Bronx, just a few stops down from your current place. It would make these early morning commutes direct and reduce travel time to Avengers Tower, where you spend most nights when Loki's between missions.

The second place is higher rent, but it's waking distance to the cafe and about half the ride time to the Tower. If you manage to get either, it would be an improvement, though moving is always a headache in and of itself.

Your keys jingle as you unlock the shop and turn on the lights. You make yourself a third cup of coffee before beginning the morning routine. Ovens preheating, kolaczkis waiting on their baking sheets, register filled, counters and tables wiped down. You're just sliding the first sheet of pastries into the oven as the owner, Bramborslav, arrives.

The warm, stocky man greets you in his jovial manner. His Slavic accent is thick, and you have yet to witness him in a bad mood. On the whole, he exudes the comforting nature of well-seasoned potatoes.

"I have someone coming in for a meeting about an hour after we open. I trust you can handle the end of the rush on your own?" he asks.

"Of course," you slide a second sheet of kolaczkis in the oven with the first. "What's the meeting about?"

"Some sort of proposal. He hasn't said much beyond that." He unlocks the front door and sets out the sign before disappearing into the back to continue food prep.

As things slow down, the last person you expect saunters into the cafe. "Tony?" your greeting is rife with confusion. "Is there something I can get you?"

"Ah, hey princess. Thought I'd find you here."

"You know I work here, right?"

"Exactly. I'll take a double expresso, and you can tell Mr. Kaschak I'm here."

Your eyebrows draw together. 'Bram's meeting with Tony? What on earth could they have to talk about?'

"Uh, sure, I'll go get him." You poke your head into the back. "Um, Bram? Tony Stark is here for your meeting?"

☕

A couple hours of hushed muttering pass before the men stand and shake hands.

"I'll extend the proposal to our third partner today," Tony gives Bram his signature charming smile. "Assuming everything goes as planned, the notaries should have the paperwork signed and sealed by the end of next week."

Bram seems pleased and Tony takes his leave with a wave in your direction. "Later, princess!"

"What was that about?" you ask Bram.

"He's investing in the business."

☕

After work you walk to the Yorkville apartment. The manager, a curvy woman in her early 30s, keeps a running monologue as she shows you through the building and into the unit.

A tiny studio that hasn't been updated since the 70s, the industrial space features original hardwood floors and slanted ceilings. A slim loft for storage, efficiency kitchen, and a bathroom in dire need of scrubbing.

The barred windows look into an alley, providing an impressive amount of natural light. You'd be able to keep a few plants on the sill; might even squeeze in half your living room setup.

When you get up to the South Bronx, you find the unit there is almost twice the size of the first. The owner is brusque, walking you through the unit, asking about your credit, listing the rent and amenities as though he's late for a much more important meeting.

The space is recently updated by comparison, sporting late-90s granite countertops and a subway tile backsplash in varying shades of brown. Commute aside, it would be significantly more comfortable than the Manhattan suite.

You're still pondering your options with a yawn as you unlock the door to your apartment. A text beeps from your phone.

Loki: Mission concluded early. See you tonight?

You grin despite your exhaustion and tap in your response. Just need to grab clean clothes and a few necessities.

☕

Upon your arrival at the tower, you find a construction crew working on the ground floor. You wave a hello and make your way to the elevators, wondering what Tony's latest addition entails.

FRIDAY lets you out on the Avengers' common floor to find the whole team standing around a transparent projector screen.

"Hi?" you look around at the group, "Am I interrupting something?"

"Not at all, darling," your lover strides out from around the display.

"We have a proposal for you," Tony announces, pulling up a model of the tower. Two points glow orange against the otherwise blue display.

"It's come to my attention," he continues, "that the tower is lacking. Missing something coffee pods cannot compensate for."

Pepper cuts in, swiping all but the ground floor from the screen. "I've had some designs worked up, which I think you'll be pleased with.

"We would like you to open a Domácí Kuchyně location here." She expands the view of the lobby.

"A cafe?" your eyes widen and you turn to Tony, "Is this what your meeting was about?"

"That's right, princess. And you're going to manage it."

"Now, if you accept the proposal," explains Pepper, "we'll of course have to work out all the details. We spoke with Mr. Kaschak, and he's agreed to make you a partial owner."

"This is," you gape. "An owner? I can't believe you did all this for me."

You walk around the model to get a better look. After you've had a moment to get a sense of the design, Loki comes up behind you. He holds one arm around your waist, the other reaching out to pull the upper floors of the tower back into view.

"Darling, I do realize the business Stark has proposed would significantly lengthen your commute. I've been thinking about this for a while," he expands the other orange area, "and I'd like you to move in."

You turn to face him. "Loki, I..."

"We've set aside space on the 43rd floor for you," Pepper notes, drawing your attention back to the screen. "The two of you can design it to fit your needs, and when you're ready, we'll send a team to help you move."

"A team?" you laugh as heat seeps up your neck. "I don't know what to say. This is...thank you! Thank you so much." Tony pops behind the bar and you throw your arms around Pepper.

A/N: Thanks as always for reading. Feedback and reblogs are the greatest blessings.

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Main Masterlist

#loki x reader #loki #loki fanfic #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki/reader #admiral at the bow of nails #loki x you #loki layfeyson x reader #mcu loki #14 doses of delirium drabble series #loki marvel #loki imagine #loki x y/n #loki smut #marvel loki #loki god of mischief #loki fluff #loki fanfiction #loki of asgard #loki x reader smut #loki/you #loki drabble series #loki drabble

[myrddin-wylt]

Do you think Caroline would have the same relationship that Alfred does with Arthur ie. the dutiful daughter? Arthur's righthand helper?

Yes! Arthur adores Caroline just as much as he does Alfred, and he's incredibly proud of her and trusts her immensely. if anything, I think Arthur relies on Caroline more; he parentifies Alfred, but Caroline gets parentified on two levels: Arthur looks at Caroline and frequently sees his mother Habren, so Caroline is parenting herself AND him. this is not helped by the fact that Caroline and Habren have basically the same temperament.

Arthur is honestly pretty weird and selective about which gender roles he does and doesn't push, but in the end it comes down to whatever's most useful or prestigious for him. Caroline gets a full education like Alfred, she's taught to hunt and shoot and take care of herself like Alfred, she's taught to lead and manage and administrate like Alfred. but she's also expected to do a ton of emotional labor that Alfred isn't - not just mental load work like managing the house and/or social events (Alfred does that too, after all), but Arthur is fairly likely to traumadump on Caroline where he'd NEVER do that with Alfred because, frankly, Arthur is pretty bad about the 'men don't show weakness' thing. like he hates the fact that he himself cries and feels ashamed of it even as he's resting his head on Caroline's shoulder, but with Alfred he feels an added pressure to model and embody it as well. I'm not sure when Alfred actually sees Arthur cry for the first time, but he's at least a teenager or adult; Caroline, meanwhile, is a lot more accustomed to the tears than Arthur would ever admit.

so somehow the answer is yes but worse because they're even more enmeshed. the result is that Caroline becomes jaded pretty quickly and honestly develops actual contempt for Arthur for a long time. prior to the world wars, she looks down on Arthur and thinks he's a bit pathetic. this is deeply unfair of course but, well, emotional enmeshment with your child is Bad and can have Adverse effects on your child and relationship! go figure.

Ftr, I will never let go of the headcanon that not only are Alfred and Caroline better at math and finance than Arthur, but prior to independence they'd do his taxes and accounting and budgeting. Caroline in particular would give Arthur explicit allowances for certain things and he just let her because honestly she knows what she's doing and it makes his life so much easier (and historically women were expected to handle household finances anyway at least until the Early Modern period. that damn Enlightenment again!) But Alfred didn't want to tread on his father's toes so he'd just be passive aggressive about it lol.

as an aside note, Caroline has a significantly worse relationship with her siblings that only starts improving in the 21st century because, well, Caroline's an arrogant bitch. the exception is with Jack, she consistently thinks he's a delight and cool as hell since their first meeting in the mid 19th century. Matthew and Eliza not so much.

#ask #anon #hetalia headcanons #hetalia hcs #hetalia hc #hetalia headcanon #ratman and ratson #nyo america #kirkland brood #myrddin's hcs #thanks for the question!

[mono-red-menace]

i would say overall i don't really agree with psychiatry but i also kinda disagree with some common antipsychiatry views.

in my experience, psychiatry has been extremely helpful, but only in the case where the professional didn't prescribe to diagnosis as a solid thing, and instead adopted an approach of treating symptoms that affect me, acknowledging that diagnoses have a lot of overlap, and many of the boxes aren't fully accurate to reality. basically like, acknowledging that i have symptoms of Bipolar, BPD, ADHD, OCD, PTSD, Major Depression, and Social Anxiety, and each of these can have significant overlap, so rather than treat me as having a specific disorder, they ask what my problems are, what i want treated, and how i want to treat it.

they give me suggestions mostly. my official diagnosis from my latest psych was Bipolar, but she didn't have the full picture of my symptoms, now knowing my previous diagnosis was Borderline. but like treatment now is "these things might help stabilise your mood (they have), but your main course of action is therapy"

i've been basically using self-help stuff online to therapy myself, tho, lol

idk it's just i've rarely actually seen doctors and therapists who prescribe strictly to the DSM. i've had some, but most i've had actually criticise the DSM and think a patient-first, therapy-based approach is essential, with medications only being there as a sort of "safety net" that can help with negative mental effects like mood swings and psychosis.

and like. i agree. i was off my quetiapine for a long time, and i can see the effects it's having on me now that im back in it, clear as day. like i wanted to try it again, unsure if it would work, but after a week of being on it, my ability to use techniques i learned in therapy has increased DRASTICALLY, and my mental health has been improving significantly with a combination of medication, therapy, reading of case studies, etc.

a lot of the antipsychiatry i see is (i think rightfully) focused on anti-diagnosis, which is a stance i agree with wholeheartedly, but also that medication wan entirely ineffective and often harmful approach to treatment, which i disagree.

it's like the anti-chiropractic. i'm anti-chiropractic myself, but SOME chiropractic is shown to be effective In Combination With Ither Treatment, with the chiropractic often improving outcomes.

medication is, in my experience, like that. it's like. augmentative to therapy-based treatment. it doesn't like, fix your problem, and it's not supposed to be the only thing you're doing for your treatment, with almost all psychs and therapists i see taking an almost wholly nurture-based approach to treatment, where some chemical imbalances can exacerbate problems, but treatment of just the chemical imbalances doesn't fix the problem, it's like a cane. it helps you keep walking so you can exercise the problem, basically.

and i really like that comparison.

I use a cane to take weight off my bad hip, and to help me keep my balance when walking, because my bad hip causes me to over-rely on my knee on that side, which causes buckling.

but using the cane isn't healing my hip. dedicated exercise and physical therapy is.

stopping the cane would make me more likely to fall and get hurt, but i can do the physical therapy without my cane. the cane just makes me less likely to get hurt, which means my progress will be more linear.

and that's the view i and my psychs have toward medications and psychotherapy.

my biggest problem with psychiatry, personally, is involuntary commitment.

i think that inpatient care NEEDS to be ENTIRELY voluntary, regardless of the condition of the patient, because, in my experience, being trapped in a facility with shifting release dates is not helpful for my mental health, it is demeaning. being made a prisoner for wanting to hurt myself doesn't help me.

if commitment was always entirely voluntary, and included one-on-one therapy for the patients, it would actually give a place for people who are in too bad a spot for just outpatient a place to go for safety, where they can control their treatment in a place where they can feel safe from themselves, without feeling like they are trapped, or under surveillance.

but like, the capitalists would probably think ppl who "didn't need it" would use those facilities basically as places for free food or something, covered by their insurance, and i think insurance would try to not cover entirely voluntary commitment like that, especially if it was "too frequent."

anyways these are the thoughts and observations i've come to based on my extensive experience as a patient (20+ years) in and out of psychiatric care.

#long post #idk these are just my thoughts wrt my experiences

[thepastisalreadywritten]

By Sarah Kuta

September 20, 2023

Tetris is one of the world’s best-selling video games and even the subject of a recent film — but the beloved 1980s digital puzzle may also help improve your mental health.

More specifically, psychologists are studying whether playing Tetris can help reduce the number of flashbacks or intrusive memories people have after a traumatic experience, such as sexual assault, a car accident, combat, a natural disaster, or a difficult childbirth.

Most people — roughly 70 percent — have had some traumatic experience in their lives.

But only a small fraction of the population, around 4 percent, will develop post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), a diagnosable psychological issue with symptoms ranging from sleep disturbances to self-destructive behaviors.

But whether trauma leads to full-blown PTSD or not, painful memories can spring to mind without warning.

Flashbacks are not only emotionally distressing, but they can also make it difficult to concentrate, which can lead to problems at work or school.

These intrusive memories often pop up as a picture or a short movie in our mind’s eye.

Against this backdrop, British psychologist Emily Holmes wondered if she could reduce the number of flashbacks people had by giving their brains a competing image to focus on shortly after they experienced trauma, while their memories were still forming.

The painful recollection would still exist, it just wouldn’t intrude as often.

“The human mind isn’t like a video camera — it doesn’t just immediately record everything we’ve experienced,” says Emily Holmes, a psychology professor at Karolinska Institutet and Uppsala University in Sweden.

“It actually takes some time, possibly hours, before a memory gets solidified into mind. What we were interested in was: Is there something we can do as the memory is still consolidating that would help it not become a flashback?”

A ‘cognitive vaccine’

Her team began testing an array of visuospatial tasks that involve generating or manipulating images in the mind’s eye, such as imagining a constellation or tapping out a complex pattern.

One day, a student suggested they try a video game — and Tetris became the obvious answer.

“It involves colors, it involves space because you’re having to move blocks around to complete lines and, critically, it requires you to rotate the shapes in your mind’s eye,” Holmes says.

“You really have to use your mental imagery skills because you’re trying to fit the blocks into the right place.”

They started to experiment with Tetris — first, in the lab, by showing participants a traumatic film and, later, in the real world, by meeting with people in hospital emergency departments who’d just been in car accidents.

In both settings, people who played Tetris within hours of the trauma experienced significantly fewer flashbacks over the course of the next week compared to those who didn’t.

(58 percent fewer in the film study, and 62 percent fewer in the car accident study)

Based on the promising results of this proactive, preventative approach — which Holmes describes as being like a “cognitive vaccine” — they next turned their attention to established memories.

“The reality is, we’re not going to be able to get to most people within a few hours of a traumatic event occurring,” she says.

“People can have intrusive memories for years or decades, so clearly we need to do something for those older memories.”

In one study, Holmes’ team asked people receiving treatment for PTSD to focus on a specific flashback while playing Tetris for 25 minutes once a week for several weeks.

By the end of the experiment, participants saw a 64 percent reduction in the number of times that specific memory popped up, as well as an 11 percent reduction in memories they hadn’t targeted.

In another study, they worked with intensive care unit nurses who had established intrusive memories — including many that were more than three months old — of traumatic events from the COVID-19 pandemic.

After four weeks, nurses who played Tetris experienced one-tenth the number of intrusive memories compared to those who did not play.

They also reported improvements in other symptoms, such as insomnia, anxiety, and depression.

Overall, nurses who played Tetris saw a 73 to 78 percent reduction in flashbacks.

As Holmes points out, there’s probably nothing special about Tetris specifically.

She suspects any task with high visuospatial demands — like drawing, doing a jigsaw puzzle, or making mosaics — might achieve similar results.

However, tasks that are verbally distracting, like doing a crossword or reading, probably wouldn’t work as well.

Tetris as a coping tool

Importantly, in their experiments, researchers aren’t just handing over a Game Boy and telling people to start playing Tetris.

Rather, they first ask participants to call to mind a particularly bad piece of a memory, called a hotspot.

Then, during gameplay, they instruct patients to mentally rotate the shapes, called tetrominoes, in their mind’s eye before they fall into the field of play.

They also ensure participants play Tetris for a sufficient length of time, usually between 10 and 20 minutes.

So far, all of their work has involved this procedure, which the researchers suspect is important to achieving results.

“Historically, intrusive memories of trauma are quite difficult to treat because they’re stuck in your mind for a reason — your brain’s gone into red alert and is trying to keep you safe,” says Holmes.

“They’re just really tricky things to alter. So if you’re just playing a game, it may help take your mind off things or reduce distress, but it might not help stop the flashbacks from intruding in the future.”

Still, playing Tetris on your own, without following the research procedure, likely won’t hurt you — and it may even help you feel better.

Canadian therapist Morgan Pomells recommends it to her clients as a coping tool for soothing feelings of anxiety or hyperarousal.

She doesn’t use Tetris during therapy sessions but, rather, suggests it as a potential option for moments when distressing memories or mental images arise during daily life.

“It’s one of the tools in the toolbox,” she says.

“A lot of people find it to be really helpful, especially people who have a really visual element to some of the symptoms they experience.

Turning to Tetris and being able to really sink into that game, even just for a couple minutes, allows them to feel a little safer and it really quiets their minds.

And when they resurface, they’re in a calmer state and actually able to take stock of their surroundings.”

However, Pomells cautions, Tetris or any other type of coping tool is not a substitute for seeing a therapist.

Holmes echoes that sentiment, adding that people who are suffering from flashbacks should first seek evidence-based treatment from a healthcare provider.

While Tetris may eventually become an evidence-based treatment itself, right now, researchers are still in the early stages of gathering clinical evidence.

“This is more of a journey of curiosity,” says Holmes.

Additional clinical studies are underway now. In the future, researchers also hope to test the long-term effects of Tetris on flashbacks, as well as understand what’s actually happening in the brain.

More broadly, they want to see if Tetris is effective at reducing intrusive memories related to other conditions beyond trauma, such as substance abuse disorders and depression.

“Mental images can haunt people in a variety of forms and I think it’s a real scientific challenge of the future,” says Holmes.

“It’s like being a physicist some centuries ago. We’ve just started to see the stars and planets, now we’ve got to go explore them.”

Tetris is a puzzle video game created in 1985 by Alexey Pajitnov, a Soviet software engineer.

It has been published by several companies for multiple platforms, most prominently during a dispute over the appropriation of the rights in the late 1980s.

After a significant period of publication by Nintendo, the rights reverted to Pajitnov in 1996, who co-founded the Tetris Company with Henk Rogers to manage licensing.

—

Alexey Leonidovich Pajitnov (born April 16, 1955) is a Russian computer engineer and video game designer who is best known for creating, designing, and developing Tetris in 1985 while working at the Dorodnitsyn Computing Centre under the Academy of Sciences of the Soviet Union (now the Russian Academy of Sciences).

#Tetris #video games #mental health #mental heath awareness #mental heath support #1980s #80s #20th century #digital puzzle #traumatic experience #trauma #post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) #PTSD #flashbacks #memories #psychology #cognitive vaccine #Game Boy #Alexey Pajitnov #puzzle video game #Nintendo #Tetris Company #Alexey Leonidovich Pajitnov

[rainydaydream-gal18]

Hello! Do you think you could write some more y/n x Tech fluff, please? Like, Cid has been having the Batch team up with a former bounty hunter on a lot of jobs and Tech is just out of his mind in love with her? Thank you, I love you're work!

   (The Bad Batch) Tech x Reader:  Think I’m in Love

Author’s note:  It’s five minutes before midnight, so happy early Tech Tuesday!  Requests aren’t officially open, but I’ve gotten a few lately, and they’re pretty adorbs, so here we are!  Thank you for dropping this in my inbox.

Word Count: 1,337

Warnings: FLUFF

   "Hey! Clones!" Cid snapped, catching the group's attention from across the parlor. Hunter released a sigh as he exchanged looks with his squad. Wrecker and Omega both looked up from their board game, Echo rolled his eyes, but Tech looked to the trandoshan with piqued curiosity as he adjusted his goggles. "C’mere. I need to see you in my office."

   "Think she's got another job for us?" Wrecker asked while he shut down the game.

   Tech picked his helmet up off the countertop. "That would be a logical conclusion."

   Omega lowered her voice as if she were uttering something forbidden. "Is it just me, or does she get a little bossy?"

   "A little?" Echo muttered.

   Nonetheless, the squad made their way to the back where Cid's office was. They could complain all they wanted, but the fact of the matter was they relied heavily on the arrangement they had with the former jedi informant. They hadn't said "no" to a job since their arrival.

Tech tucked his helmet under one arm as he followed Hunter to the office. His mind ran through a million and one scenarios of the kind of job Cid would brief them on. It could be anything from a complicated rescue mission to a simple delivery.  The variety of tasks kept things interesting. Tech noted how their current job as mercenaries was reminiscent of the squad's soldier days.

   Old habits die hard, I suppose, he thought.

   Upon entering Cid’s office, Tech noted the familiar figure that already stood on the opposite side of the desk, with her back facing the squad.  It was rather amazing how just the back of her head sent his heart into overdrive.  His previous deduction (and admittedly hope) was more than likely to be confirmed.  The evidence was stacked in his favor.

   “Oh, here we go,” Echo muttered under his breath, though he was close enough for Tech to pick up on the sly amusement in the Reg’s tone.  Tech knew the comment was aimed at him.  His admiration of ________ was not the best-kept secret. 

   “__________!” Wrecker exclaimed her name in pleasant surprise, walking right up and giving her an affectionate nudge in the arm.  “Are we teaming up again?”

   “Woah, there,” Cid shook her head before ________ could utter a response.  “You’re getting ahead of yourself there, Muscles.  I haven’t even started the briefing yet!”

   Tech clamped his mouth shut as well.  As much as he wanted to put in his two cents, he’d learned from experience dealing with Cid that it was best to just wait.

   “Now that we’re all here, let’s begin.”  Cid leaned forward to reach across her desk and activate a holomap.  “There are two phases to this mission, so listen carefully...”

   Of course, Tech kept one ear on the briefing.  He took mental notes and even recorded vital bits with his gear.  On the other hand, his eyes kept flickering back to ________.  Wrecker was most likely accurate in his assumption that she would be accompanying the Bad Batch on the latest mission.  They’d already teamed up several times since striking up the deal with Cid.  Tech wasn’t sure why it came to be.  All he knew was that the Batch’s success rates significantly improved when you were accompanying them.  

   He remembered first meeting you.  It was actually right there in Cid’s office.  He’d never seen you around the parlor before, and your arrival was still a mystery to him.  The Batch had been summoned for a mission, much like they were currently.  But of course Tech did some research on her initially.  The Republic database told him that you were a former bounty hunter- not widely known, but widely enough to end up in the database.  Still, it didn’t quite satisfy the desire to learn more about her.  It didn’t come close at all, really.

   So Tech made up his mind to learn what he could by engaging in conversation.

   He learned quite a bit:  how she liked her drinks, where she was from, why she became a bounty hunter in the first place, and why she quit.  He learned that she was quite intelligent and capable in a fight.  He found out that she was strong and had a kind heart.  He discovered that she despised the Empire and had a secret love of his piloting style.

   His conclusion?

   He was in love with her.

   Oh, and she was currently talking standing in front of him.  Speaking to him, no less.  The others were clearing out of the office.

. . . 

   You tilted your head, brows furrowing as your concern for your friend increased.  He had been unusually quiet during the briefing.  Normally, he’d throw in a comment or two despite Cid’s scolding.

   “You okay?”

   Tech blinked.  His mind seemed to be reeling.  “Yes.”

   “Good,” Cid interrupted.  “Because the briefing’s over.”  She nodded her head in the direction of the door, and you followed Tech out.  Once you were out of earshot from the trandoshan, you gave Tech a gentle nudge.

   “Are you sure you’re okay?  You were pretty quiet in there.”

  “I was simply considering the data Cid provided us with for the mission.  She has a habit of leaving out significant details.”

   You chuckled, lifting the helmet tucked under your arm.  You clipped it onto your belt as you walked.  “That’s true.  Makes me wonder what helpful information she decided to leave out of the briefing this time.”

   Tech’s eyes flickered to yours in a knowing look which you returned.  “Indeed.”  The shared gaze nearly made you shudder.  Little did you know that you had the same effect on the soldier.

   “Well, at least we got this assignment together,” you pointed out, brushing it off.  “That way, we can watch each other’s backs.”  As a former bounty hunter, you were used to completing jobs on your own.  You preferred this- having a squad.  Watching their banter and interactions in the parlor, it was plain to see that it was a family.  

   It was a family that you were starting to feel a part of.

   “Hey _______!” Omega hurried up to you, her eyes wide with excitement about the mission.  “I want to show you something!  Tech, you’re part of this too.  Come on!”

   You stole a curious look, to which Tech responded with a shrug and adjusting of his goggles.  Oh, you knew that look.  That was his attempt to look casual, indifferent.  He and Omega were definitely up to something.

   “What’s all this about?”  Omega took hold of your hand and gave it a tug.  “Alright, alright.”  You laughed.  “I’m coming.”

   She proceeded to pull you the whole way out of the parlor until you boarded the Havoc Marauder, with Tech in tow.

   “Since you’ve been on so many missions with us, Tech made sure that you had a space to call your own!”

   You looked at the top storage rack incredulously.  The last few times, you’d taken to finding a decent place on the floor in the back or perched in one of the passenger seats simply because space was so limited aboard the Marauder.  This was definitely an upgrade.  You looked between the enthusiastic child and the once again unusually-quiet, goggled genius.  “How’d you manage this?”

   “This was previously my rack, though it has been noted that I tend to sleep in the cockpit anyway.”

   Your gaze softened.  “You didn’t have to do that.”

   “Correct, but I wanted to.  Like I said, I prefer to sleep up front.  The space should not go to waste.”

   “Well, thank you, Tech.  Really.”

. . .

   Tech watched with a small smile on his face as you set your gear on the rack, listening to Omega talk excitedly about the mission.  You’d appreciated the gesture, as he’d hoped.  

   Just seeing the way your features softened in genuine gratitude and how you smiled at being welcomed in an unofficial way as part of the squad...it was worth it.  

   Tech came to realize that he’d do whatever it took to see that smile.

#the bad batch #tech x reader #the bad batch x reader #the bad batch reader insert #bad batch tech x reader #the bad batch tech x reader #bad batch tech #tech reader insert #bad batch reader insert