#the chemical brothers study

[esmes]

i'm not gonna lie to y'all... i am not the same person i was before i noticed these little moments :'''''''''(

#sweeney todd #the way she looks up at him after anthony tells him johanna is being held at fogg's... brother...... help me #this tiny woman loves him SO BAD :((( #so many things going on in that look!!!!! #annaleigh i could kiss u #and her little adjustments after he pulls himself away both times #he accepts her hand in the second scene... grips her hand a little tighter... like their little moment on the couch made a difference... #ANYWAY #the way this revival has chemically altered my brain should be studied #**

[angstics]

that fucking store sells eyeball cds. i need to go back to that store.

#everyday i hope someone has a falling out with my chemical romance and sells everything #come on come onnn #tbh these cd store visits are akin to gambling. but the only thing im gambling is study time HEYO #i keep getting tricked by the chemical brothers records.. they even have an album that looks a LOT like bullets #evil. #q.txt

[inkskinned]

"your pet doesn't love you; it just has learned that it will get treats if it acts a certain way. it can't understand you."

in between humans, i don't always speak the language either. love has always been hard for me. i don't trust it. i can't read it easily on people's faces - i'm usually trying to read past it; to the "other parts", the ones that make sense to me.

but my mom always offers me food as soon as i get through the door. my brother calls me at weird hours, just to be talking. my sister has a nightmare; asks me to please drive safe in the morning. i throw my friends random parties, just to celebrate something. she drives 45 minutes to spend 3 hours with me. amelia holds my hand while we both cross the street.

no, my dog and i don't have the same language. so what? this is not the same thing as communication. my dog is a good study in how trauma can heal - a rescue from the racetrack; i've been watching his personality develop slowly. in the last year, he's gotten so comfortable with me that he'll ask me to sit down on the grass so he can use my body as a seat. (it's important to note: he is huge. he squishes me. i don't complain. i find it lovely.)

love for us is also just endorphins and behavioral response. i'm a poet, the number of sad men that have tried to "teach me" how stupid it is to be a hopeless romantic is ... not a low one. i cannot count how many times someone has argued - it's all chemical stimulus - as if the fact of it makes it less magical. we're just electrical signals reading the universe! that's fucked up. that's so beautiful.

i find it hard to believe that in the spectrum of evolution we are the only species to feel like this - we already know that dogs and cats also have endorphins. why wouldn't they experience joy? love? companionship? in what world is it a new thing that i had to earn it? in every relationship, both individuals have to work to learn the language. i had to teach my dog what trust is. it's okay that it took time for him to learn it.

in the human world, when i love someone, it's hard for me to speak it. i write them poems or make them food or give them a cool rock i found on the beach.

i don't know how to tell goblin i love him, so i tell him through treats. through a new collar, fancy mattresses, a little bow on his leash. i tell him with long walks and petting him and sitting down on the wet ground so my 70 pound sharp noodle of a dog can prance on my thigh bones and take an awkward - if loving - seat.

"you taught your dog to love you" is kind of a cruel way to reframe what actually happened: i loved him so loudly, it skipped over language and species. the two of us just saying - oh! i have figured out a way to tell you that you make me happy.

#spilled ink #warm up #goblin writing #i got a lot of angry replies on my last goblin post about how dogs DONT love u #like really? did u ask every dog?

[ausetkmt]

Pharmacist Lunsford Richardson made Vicks a household name throughout the nation, but his popular product did not do the same for him.

Even in his native North Carolina, where his most celebrated of chemical concoctions has been right under our stuffy noses and on our congested chests for generations, the mention of Richardson’s name elicits blank stares from all but those who study and cherish history.

Richardson’s salve, Vicks VapoRub, helped the world breathe easier during the devastating influenza pandemic of 1918 and during the countless colds and flus of our childhoods, yet most of us couldn’t pick Lunsford Richardson out of a one-man police lineup, much less a who’s who of medical pioneers.

Why didn’t Richardson — by all accounts a creative inventor and smart businessman — ever become as famous as those vapors packed into the familiar squat blue jar?

Because his name wouldn’t fit on the jar.

That’s one version of the story. According to company and family lore, Richardson initially dubbed his promising new product Richardson’s Croup and Pneumonia Cure Salve. Realizing that this name didn’t exactly roll off the tongue nor fit when printed on a small medicine jar, Richardson changed the name to honor his brother-in-law, Dr. Joshua Vick. Another account suggests the inventive druggist plucked the name from a seed catalog he’d been perusing that listed the Vick Seed Co.

The truth may never be known. What is known, though, is that Lunsford Richardson created a medicinal marvel for the ages, the likes of which may never be equaled.

Croupy beginnings

A Johnston County native born in 1854, Richardson loved chemistry and hoped to study it at Davidson College. The college’s chemistry program at the time wasn’t as strong as he’d hoped it would be, so he studied Latin instead, graduating with honors in three years. He returned to Johnston County and taught school, but it wasn’t long before the young man’s love of chemistry got the best of him. In 1880, he moved to Selma to work with his physician brother-in-law, Dr. Vick. It was not uncommon in those days for doctors to dispense drugs themselves, but Vick was so busy seeing patients that he teamed up with Richardson, allowing him to handle the pharmacy duties for him. Richardson relied on his knowledge of Latin to help him learn the chemical compounds required to become a pharmacist, and that’s when he began to experiment with recipes for the product that would become Vicks VapoRub.

It wasn’t until Richardson moved to his wife’s hometown of Greensboro in 1890 that his magical salve and other products he created began to take off.

“He was a man of great intellect and talent,” says Linda Evans, community historian for the Greensboro Historical Museum, which has an exhibit devoted to Richardson and Vicks.

“Druggists at the time fashioned their own remedies a lot, and he created a number of remedies, in addition to his magic salve, that he sold under the name of Vick’s Family Remedies. He was obviously a man of such creativity.”

In Greensboro, working out of a downtown drugstore he purchased (where he once employed a teenaged William Sydney Porter, the future short story writer O. Henry), Richardson patented some 21 medicines. The wide variety of pills, liquids, ointments, and assorted other medicinal concoctions included the likes of Vick’s Chill Tonic, Vick’s Turtle Oil Liniment, Vick’s Little Liver Pills and Little Laxative Pills, Vick’s Tar Heel Sarsaparilla, Vick’s Yellow Pine Tar Cough Syrup, and Vick’s Grippe Knockers (aimed at knocking out la grippe, an old-timey phrase for the flu).

These products sold with varying degrees of success, but the best seller in the lineup of Richardson’s remedies was Vick’s Magic Croup Salve, which he introduced in 1894. And by all accounts, necessity was the key to its success.

“He had what they referred to as a croupy baby — a baby with a lot of coughing and congestion,” explains Richardson’s great-grandson, Britt Preyer of Greensboro. “So as a pharmacist, he began experimenting with menthols from Japan and some other ingredients, and he came up with this salve that really worked. That’s how it all started.”

Another version of the story suggests that all three of the Richardson children caught bad colds at the same time, and Richardson, dissatisfied with the traditional treatment of the day, which included poultices and a vapor lamp, spent hours at his pharmacy developing his own treatment.

Richardson’s salve — a strong-smelling ointment combining menthol, camphor, oil of eucalyptus, and several other oils, blended in a base of petroleum jelly — was a chest-soothing, cough-suppressing, head-clearing sensation. When the salve was rubbed on the patient’s chest, his or her body heat vaporized the menthol, releasing a wave of soothing, medicated vapors that the patient breathed directly into the lungs.

Vicks in the mailbox

In 1911, Richardson’s son Smith, by now a successful salesman for his father’s company, recommended discontinuing all of the company’s products except for Vick’s Magic Croup Salve. He believed the salve could sell even better if the company stopped investing time and money in the other, less successful remedies. He also suggested renaming the salve Vicks VapoRub, according to the company’s history timeline, to “help dramatize the product’s performance.” Richardson agreed, and a century later, the name’s still the same.

Meanwhile, Richardson intensified his marketing efforts by providing free goods to druggists who placed large orders and publishing coupons for free samples in newspapers. He also advertised on billboards and sent promotional mailings to post office boxes, addressed to Boxholder rather than the individual’s name, thus earning him the distinction of being the father of junk mail.

In 1925, Vicks even published a children’s book to help promote the product. The book told the story of two elves, Blix and Blee, who rescued a frazzled mother whose sick child refused to take nasty-tasting medicines. Their solution, of course, was the salve known as Vicks VapoRub.

Expanding and experimenting

As successful as the marketing campaign was, nothing sold Vicks VapoRub like the deadly Spanish flu outbreak that ravaged the nation in 1918 and 1919, killing hundreds of thousands of Americans. Loyal Vicks customers and new customers stocked up on the medicine to stave off or fight the disease.

According to the company’s history timeline, VapoRub sales skyrocketed from $900,000 to $2.9 million in a single year because of the pandemic. The Vicks plant in Greensboro operated around the clock, and salesmen were pulled off the road to help at the manufacturing facility in an effort to keep up with demand.

As the flu spread across the nation, Richardson grew ill with pneumonia in 1919 and died. Smith took over the company. Vicks continued to grow, buying other companies until Procter & Gamble bought it in the 1980s. Through the years, Vicks continued adding new products to its arsenal of cold remedies: cough drops, nose drops, inhalers, cough syrup, nasal spray, Formula 44, NyQuil. And whatever success those products attained, they got there standing on the broad shoulders of Richardson.

Richardson will never be a household name, but his salve has held that status for more than a century — and may do so for the next hundred years. And for Richardson, were he still around, that ought to be enough to clear his head.

A cure-all salve

Vicks users have claimed the salve can cure and heal many maladies. Even though Vicks doesn’t say the salve works for these problems, people still believe.

Toenail fungus: Rub the salve on your toenails, cover with socks, and sleep your fungus problems away. Cough: For a similar fix to a nagging cough, some believe rubbing Vicks on the soles of your feet can fix the problem. Dandruff: Rub Vicks directly on the scalp, and your flakes may just disappear. Chapped lips: Petroleum jelly is one of the ingredients in Vicks, and some say the ointment can help heal cracked lips. Mosquito bites: If you smooth Vicks on the red bumps on your legs and arms, it can supposedly take the itch right out. Warts: Dab Vicks on the wart, cover with duct tape, and it may fall off in a few days.

Greensboro Historical Museum 130 Summit Avenue Greensboro, N.C. 27401 [phone] greensborohistory.org

See historical Vicks VapoRub bottles and learn about Lunsford Richardson.

#VICKS #Vicks vapo rub #Lunsford Richardson #Vicks VapoRub #spanish american flu #Spanish flu outbreak #1918 #1919 #pneumonia #Black Inventors

[austinbutlerslovers]

Can we get a teaser of the feyd fic

It is almost complete, minor details are subject to change. Here is the scene mentioned in the summary:

Feyd Fantasy Part II <Excerpt>

The Barons Favorite

The Baron speaks with his advisors in the morning about the upcoming gladiatorial fights around the massive table in the meeting hall. When the assembly concludes he uses his hover suit to bring the men of court to watch Feyd in combat training.

Part Two Complete✍🏼

He is proud of the accomplishments of his nephew Feyd, he is the Barons favorite over his older brother Glossu Rabban Harkonnen.

After making several public embarrassments to the family name the Baron had Feyds brother Rabban shipped to Arrakis. He gives him one last chance to prove his worth controlling their families most lucrative venture, harvesting spice.

Though ominous and foreboding the Baron is an obesely over weight man. He can no longer walk without the assistance of integrated technology to reduce the burden of his weight. His hover suit is implanted into his spine with thick tubes connected on two small orbs. The orbs float behind him carrying the chemicals which enable him to defy gravity.

They arrive to the second story of the courtyard in Feyds quarters. When the men gather looking down into the training pit on the first floor it is deserted. A low murmur begins between his advisors as to the where abouts of Feyd. Always eager to show off his knife skills Feyds absence is jarring.

The Baron immediately hovers to Feyds chambers and finds them empty as well. Feyds male Page appears at the entrance hearing the commotion.

“Well where is he?” The Baron snaps “You are to be at his side at all times have you forgotten your purpose”The Baron is fuming at the Pages insolence.

The Page trembles knowing the truth and averts his eyes from the Barons sinister Gaze “Spit it out or I cut it out” the Baron says coldly. He hovers into the young man’s personal space. The Page knows both men will readily slit his throat.

He divulges enough not to be dispatched by either “He and his lady are in the great halls of the fortress. I’m not sure where but he wanted to show her the grandeur of Geidi Prime” the Baron squints in anger how idiotic at a time like this with so much at stake to impress his new bride. His scowl deepens because Feyd above all neglected his training. For that he will be heavily punished.

The Great Meeting Hall

After touring your fifth great hall with Feyd it is readily apparent his family has amassed a great fortune with power and control over the populous of Geidi Prime.

He pushes open the large black inscribed doors of the meeting hall. There are thrones at opposite ends raised on platforms with stairs. The high floor to ceiling windows display the industrial city scape and a grand table that can seat fifty people occupies the majority of the floor space. Everything is void of color, only stone marble, black and granite can be seen in the gigantic area.

You walk over to the throne on your left “is this one yours?” Your voice echos in the large hall. Feyd nods, his hands are clasped behind his back. He follows you around the room as you study the furniture and the giant painting of his uncle and then of himself. There is a portait of a third Harkonnen male next to Feyds but he interrupts your thoughts before you can ask the identity.

“This is where the most important decisions are made on Geidi Prime, as well as another secret room with the cones of silence” he adds.

“What are cones of silence? “ you ask. The words are somewhat familiar to you.

“They are able to mute all sounds around them, only the two inside can hear each other.” He answers as he imagines himself fucking you inside of one until he makes you scream in pleasure as loud as he possibly can. He stops walking and stands behind you.

You've paused to study something that caught your eye. His eyes wander your form up to the beauty of your side profile. He can’t help himself as his hand trails down your shoulder. “Do these things in impress you?” He asks. You finally look over your shoulder at him.

You had been mesmerized studying an ancient Harkonnen sword on display. It is carved with hieroglyphs that date back centuries. It represents how his entire culture revolves around war and greed . “Yes ” you say addressing his question to be kind. You turn back to looking at the sword again. Inside you are deeply longing for your home world.

You remember the beautiful gardens, waterfalls, flowers, and colors of life. You especially miss the large atrium where you would read for hours basking in the afternoon sunlight. The warm rays would kiss your skin as it filtered through the glass dome.

Laying on a spacious out door ottoman with your fellow Bene Gesserit sisters honing your skills in the palatial gardens seemed like a dream now.

Feyd sees you lost deep in thought and softly grabs your chin “What would impress you more” he asks with intent. He knows you aren’t fond of the ways on Geidi Prime. You don’t have an answer so you remain quiet.

He knows one thing he has that impresses you on end. He gently pulls you into a kiss. His bottom lip rubs softly with yours as his warm tongue fills your mouth.

He ignites your passions and you place your hands on his jaw. You lean your head with his as you kiss him in return. You want to focus on the carnal and forget your distant memories. He presses himself against you and the heat of his body claims you.

He turns you walking back as he kisses your lips until you are met against the grand meeting hall table. He sits on the edge and moves to the center. He rests back on his heels beckoning you to come.

You climb onto the edge and crawl to him. Now both in the center he holds your jaw and pulls you close. His lips find yours again hungrier than before.

You feel his teeth bite into your lower lip and tug. It arouses you and he releases your lip to do again. Then he envelops his mouth completely onto yours. You feel the hardness of his cock as he presses it into your thigh.

He wants to defile you on this table. He smirks at the high disrespect to the Harkonnen dynasty he is about to commit. Soon this will all belong to him so what does it matter. He pushes you back to lie flat against the stone slab. You gaze up above him to the metallic barbs of the chandelier until his face obstructs your view.

His hands start at your knees grabbing the hem of your gown sliding it up to your hips.

His hands clutch one side of your panties tearing them apart making you gasp. He tears the other side and rips them clean from your body.

You watch as he sits back on his heels between your parted legs. He unhooks the clasp of his pants and pulls his thick veiny cock out. The contrast of the black fabric against his large hardened pale cock is striking.

His slaps his pink tip on your clit to edge you.

You flinch at each tap as it makes your bundle of nerves jump. He slides his hand down your thigh to meet your hip and holds you steady. He lines himself up and thrusts into you so roughly you have no time to adjust to the feeling.

Your vision goes hazy as your back arcs from the table. His penetration shocked you senseless. His large cock expands parts of you that you never knew existed. He watches how your face changes from pain to pleasure and back again as you try and relax around the girth of his size.

He wants to spur you on and leans down pressing his chest to yours. He wraps his hand around the back of your neck titling your head so he can speak softly into your ear.

”You are so beautiful to me” he says as his eyes study your side profile. He traces his thumb on your lower lip as you pant for him. “So desperate for my cock, the way you’d let me fuck you on this table you’d let me do anything to you” a moan escapes your lips as he shushes you “Just lay still and look pretty while I fuck you until you stretch open for me” you moan louder at his words.

He begins to roughly thrust inside of you like he wants to posses you. His cock hits your core at a dangerous pace. Your breasts bounce with every push of his hips. He is already becoming lost in pleasure grunting above you. He loves the feeling of your tight cunt stretching around his throbbing cock.

You arc your back down flat to brace yourself against his rutting. “You…feel too good on my cock” he rasps out as he finally hits the thrust that stretches you around his size. He stares down into your eyes completely transfixed by the physical connection between your bodies.

Unbeknownst to you both the Baron has finally narrowed his search. After spying into several halls down the corridor his servants waves him over finally finding the one you are in. The Baron peeks through the discreet opening made by one of the nimble servants. There on the middle of the table in the grand meeting hall he sees Feyd fucking you ruthlessly.

Your are constantly being pounded into the stone slab table by his strength. His hips begin slapping harder against you as he thrust between your legs. You hold out until the familiar tightening in your abdomen begins. Your moans start to fill the air.

As your walls clench around him it makes his cock feel incredible inside of you. Your eyes stare up at him, pleading and begging for release.

He sees the neediness in your eyes and brings his hand between your bodies touching your clit. His finger tips are wet by your arousal and he slicks them expertly in firm circles around your bundle of nerves.

It sends shocks though your core that radiate your entire body “YES please Feyd just like that“. You are unable to string together another sentence as you orgasm. He strums your clit as hard as he can with his cock slamming into your soaked pussy.

His mouth opens when he feels the pleasurable sensation of your walls milking his cock from the orgasm. He pins your wrists next to your head and plows into you even harder his release is immediate. His pace falters as he orgasms. You both moan as he paints rope after rope of his hot cum into your cervix.

He rests down on his elbows laying his full weight on you panting. He kisses your lips passionately with his final slow thrusts. His breath shudders into your mouth as he feels his cock empty inside of you.

He plants soft kisses around your face as he comes down. Each one more tender and loving than the last. His heart feels revived when he’s with you. He cradles your head in his hands staring deeply into your eyes. You smile at him and he smiles back, this time it isn’t like his sinister ones before, this one is radiant you see the kindness return in his eyes.

His uncle spying on the entire moment becomes enraged : not at the fact Feyd missed training, not at the fact he satisfied his carnal urges on the sacred meeting hall table, but at the fact Feyd put a woman’s pleasure before his own. The Baron turns away in disgust his patience is severed.

He raised Feyd with enough brutality and greed to become a ruthless tyrant. Now he sees every aspect of brutally he instilled in Feyd quickly being stripped away by a female. He never thought this was possible.

He is resolute in his decision to regain control. He will take out two problems with one swift action: Punishing Feyd by having you removed from his presence entirely.

[Sneak Peek: Full fic in finalization]

.⚔️ Fic Tag list: @burnthheparaphilia @elvismylove04 @lindszeppelin @obsessedvibee @abswifey @austiebuttbutt @jessica987 @oh-my-front-door @slowsweetlove @purejasmine @hardcoredisneynerd @i5uckersblog @phil2135561 @lovereadingfanfic @steph-speaks @maloribarnes1999 @meetmeatyourworst @moony-artemis @xxxstormyninixxx @prettypinkblogger @thegabbyh

#austin butler #austin butler fanfiction #austin butler smut #austin butler x reader #smut #fanfic #austinbutler #austin butler smut fic #austin butler fic #austin butler x fem!reader #feyd rautha smut #feyd smut #feydrautha #dune part two #dune part 2 #dune part two smut #austin butler fandom #austin butler x you #feyd rautha x reader #feydrautha x

[lunas-side-anime-blog]

Modern College Student/Gf Mikasa Ackerman Headcanons

Armin Version: Here Eren Version: Here

scary goth girl that everyone is too scared to talk to but secretly crushes on

psychology major bc I think she had a tough childhood and wants to better understand trauma / help others

somwhere in the middle between Armin and Erin when it comes to academics

like I don't think she is as intense about grades as Armin is, but I also don't think she's as laidback about school as Eren

moderately studies throughout the week, but it's just basic note taking and chapter reading, i don't think she's afraid to miss a few classes though if she feels like it

only really crams and does all-nighters right before an exam if she thinks she needs it

i think she wears men cologne and deodorant and it fits her soo well, idk how to describe it but she smells powerful but comforting at the same time?

maybe like woodsy with strong notes of vanilla and cashmere

loves a black cold brew: no creamer, foam or sugar like she's so intense that way

i think she's that one cool girl who always walks into class like a few minutes late with a hot resting bitch face, AirPods in and a cold brew in hand

tall girl and I think her height is prob her fave feature about herself, like I can see her wearing more heeled boots or platforms to exaggerate it

wears lots of black and hardly any makeup besides some light eyeliner most days

doesn't talk alot unless she fr knows you, i think most people would just hear her say "here" for attendenace and that's it

doesn't go to parties unless she has to

I think think she'll only go to watch eren and armin. she knows eren loves to go overboard and armin will most likely get distracted so she takes it upon herself to be the sober one watching everyone's drinks

def a girls girl like if she sees another female in an uncomfortable situation shes jumping in, no questions asked

i can see her working out with eren so in my mind shes ripped too and yeah...most guys don't fuck with her

has a cute lil skincare routine, only has like a three step process tho since I think she has naturally good skin

she secretly loves facemasks tho and doing her nails with armin as rewards for studying lol

I think out of the main three mikasa would have the most instagram followers, which is so funny bc she doesn't know why she's so popular?

I just think her aesthetic and vibe is very cool, if her account is set to public she would quickly get a lil following

lots of secret admires with this one, men and woman alike

I can see her being BI or Pan too so like that's very conveient

other than armin and eren, I think Mikasa would be besties with Yimir and Sasha

i can see them going to concerts together, shopping, late night drives, getting food (at sasha's demand lol) like i think they'd be a chill lil trio

views eren and armin as brother figures btw, gets grossed out when people ask if shes dating them

obviously a very protective friend

the type of freind whose like "what's their name" when you tell her you're seeing someone new and within an hour Mikasa will have an entire report on where they went to school, all their exes, hobbies, pets, address, ect.

I can see her getting a masters tbh, I def think armin would talk her into it so I think they would be grad school buddies while eren finishes his BA (he'll lag behind them a year or two since he changed his major so much anyway)

Loves cats and I think she'd have one or two if armin and eren are cool with it

I think she would have a few tatooes and piercings, but very subtle ones she can hide since I think as a psychologist she'd want to be taken seriously

music taste is kinda stuck in middle school tbh, still loves my chemical romance with a passion

I don't think she'd smoke weed or drink

^^ not that she has anything against it but i think she just hates the feeling of not being in complete control of herself so she stays away from things like that

never gets sick? it's actually medically fascinating

Overall she's that one quiet girl in class who looks scary but is a sweethear and everyon'es dying to be friends with

As your GF

omg I think she'd be the best significant other tbh

I think you would meet her in a meet-cute way since it's always the people who you least expect to be cheesy

I think maybe like you accidentally tripped and made her spill her coffee in class. you look up an see this tall, ripped, emo looking chick and you rush to apologise and give her your drink in hopes she doesn't flip

shes like "...ok." and takes it. but then the next class she randomly sits next to you and passes you a drink and is like ... "i hope i got your order right?"

the dork memorized your drink akjglalg

after that she kinda keeps sitting next to you and attempts small talk, so you realize she's actually v sweet and exchange socials

which is great bc I think mikasa is way better at flirting over text than in person and you'd quickly understand that she likes you

First date would probably be a show, i think she'd take you to a local band she likes and would get a quick bite after it

I think for second date she'd like you to choose what you guys do and then third she chooses, you guys switch bc she's all about that equal effort

once you agree to be her s/o she'd gonna be so annoying on social media like she's def gonna loose some followers as she only posts you now

type of partner to notice the smallest changes in you right away

you give her a peck and shes like "why aren't you wearing your usual lip balm? do you not like strawberries anymore?"

in bed she's a dom, is that even a queston?

I think she's actually a brat tamer, in my head rn she gets a lil smirk when you act up and i think she just mentally notes what to punish you for later

mikasa views sex toys as allies not enemies, and yeah i think she has an impressive collection so buckle tf up

okay so she's kinda yandere (tbh i think most ppl from the aot universe are but esp mikasa) I think shes very protective and a touch paranoid?

like i think her past is kinda messed up and I can see her mind running wild with ideas if not reassured

so you can just oversleep for a bit and you'll wake up to mikasa practically breaking into your apartment to make sure you're okay bc you suddenly went silent on her

some trust issues too, would def be really upset if you didn't give her the passcode to your phone

doesn't like your friends or anyone else you talk to tbh, she just doesn't think anyone else has your back like she does and will always remind you

i also know her manipulation skill is cray being a psych major, I don't think she's as good as Armin but ik she can weaponize some therapy speak and make you feel a lil stupid (only does it for your own good she says)

doesn't get jealous but does get even

I can see the little shit putting thumbtacks in pockets or laxitives in drinks if someone dares flirt with you, she can be so evil sometimes i just know it

she isn't even scared of the aftermath bc she knows eren and armin have her back so she wants the smoke tbh

the type of partner to death stare someone from behind your back but when you turn around she's suddenly all :)

would love matching tattoos with you if you're down

think she'll be the quickest to bring up marriage too, porbably only a few months of dating and she's like "so when we get married-" and you're like "!?"

big spoon gf, you can be bigger than her and she don't gaf she's still holding you not the other way around

Overall a really sweet girlfriend who just wants to protect you and keep you all to herself

Can be a lil crazy at times, but she means well I swear !!!

Nicknames for you: love, my other half, wifey/hubbie

Songs that fit the vibe: The Perfect Girl by Mareux, Breezeblocks by Alt-J, Me and Your Mama by Childish Gambino

"You're such a strange girl, the way you look like you do."

"She's morphine, queen of my vaccine, my love, my love, love..."

"Girl you really got a hold on me, so this isn't just puppy love"

(She's so hot omg I love her, i developed a lil crush writing this! Anyway srry the moodboard didn't include couple stuff, girlfriend aesthetics are way harder to find than bf aesthetics and the ones I did find looked nothing like her :( tell me if you guys like this series, totally open to doing more characters! not even just from aot, i also kinda wanna do demon slayer or hxh, also love jjk and chainsaw man but I didn't read those mangas yet so I may not be the best at it!!)

#mikasa ackerman #mikasa x reader #yandere mikasa #yandere aot #yandere attack on titan #attack on titan headcanons #aot headcanons #mikasa ackerman smut #mikasa aot #modern attack on titan #modern mikasa

[dancingdonatello]

donnie x gender neutral reader

“In order to date me, you must pass a simple test.” Donnie held the paper vertically in two hands right in front of his chest.

You were in his lab, surrounded by his entire family who were spectating. It was nerve wracking, how they all smirked and eyed you up. It was as if they knew something you didn’t.

But you had studied. You had spent several hours reviewing math equations, practicing chemical equations, and of course, memorizing as much of Pi as you could. As long as you didn’t have to write a rhetorical analysis, you should be able to manage a low C.

Donnie cleared his throat, setting an egg timer at the desk you were sitting at. “You have an hour.” He set the paper in front of you along with a #2 pencil.

You looked down at the test and paused. You picked up the paper and flipped it over. Blank. You flipped it back over. There was only a single question, in all caps and italicized.

WHAT IS DONATELLO’S FAVORITE COLOR?

a) purple

b) blue

c) orange

d) red

Your first thought was that this was a trick but the more you tried to think about it, the more jumbled your thoughts became.

Leo saw your face and walked over, leaning over your shoulder to look at the test. “What?! Don, are you serious? This is way too easy!”

Raph and Mikey joined his side to look. Mikey gasped. “No… this is psychological torture.”

Donnie snorted, no doubt seeing the sweat beginning to form on your forehead. He said nothing.

His brothers were not helping you at all. Mikey was too loud, yelling, “Wait! Let me go get my pom poms!” before returning with thrmand shaking them in front of you. It was very distracting.

Then Leo was basically breathing down your neck to be able to watch every movement you made towards the paper. He’d hum and groan in disapproval each time you hovered over a color.

And lastly, Raph was trying to be encouraging, muttering advice next to you. But none of it made sense. You listened to him for a moment before you realized he was talking about pizza and car insurance.

You were full on sweating at this point and you had to pull at the collar of your shirt to catch a breeze. Which there were none. You were dying.

“Donnie, babe, can you please give me a hint?”

Donnie rose an eyebrow, not looking up from his phone. “Pet names are dating privileges, which you don’t have as last time I checked, you haven’t turned in your test yet. Also, no talking. There are tests still out.”

You buried your face into your hands. You really had to focus. Purple, blue, orange or red. It was easy. It had to be easy. But what if it was a trick? Or what if it was a trick to make you think it was a trick?

He had told you that Splinter had called them colors to remember them. Or something like that. If it was true, he could’ve held a grudge against the color purple because of that. But what if he became attached to it? He had really wanted that purple jacket the Purple Dragons had after all. But maybe… Oh, you were definitely going to have a headache after this.

You took a deep breath and picked up your pencil. You circled your answer.

“Oooh… are you sure about that, bud?” Leo tsked judgmentally, making you second guess yourself. You stood up and trudged over to Donnie. You shakily handed him the paper.

“Hmmm….” Donnie read it over. “Wow. Perfect score. 1/1.”

You gasped and Mikey jumped onto your back with a cheer. “You did it!”

“But—” your blood ran cold. “—you forgot to put your name. Unfortunately, that means I’ll have to take a point off. And of course, that also means you got a 0/1.”

You almost fell to your knees.

“But!” Donnie said again, holding up a finger. “There is extra credit available.”

“What is it?!”

The next day at school, while Donnie was hidden around a corner with his camera out and recording, you stuck your leg out and tripped Kendra.

#rise donatello x reader #donnie x reader #rise donnie x reader #rottmnt x reader #rottmnt fanfiction #donatello x reader #rottmnt #rottmnt x gender neutral reader #rottmnt x gn reader

[ju1cyfru1t]

waiting room (rise! donnie x reader)

rottmnt x reader

angst-ish? idrk, drabble, gn reader, I wrote this in like 5 minutes 👍

I know it's for the better

Everybody knows Donatello was completely and utterly enamored with you. He knows that he is, whether he likes it or not. He knows that it’s for the better that you’re not together, whether he likes it or not.

Know it's for the better

You’re too different. He has too much going on. He doesn’t have time for anything serious. He has a commitment to his studies and science. He needs to focus on his training. His family needs him and his full attention. These feelings are just a phase and he’ll get over you. He doesn’t know what he wants. You wouldn’t be good together. Logically, it wouldn’t work out. You’re better as friends and nothing more. It’s for the better this way. At least, that’s what he’ll keep telling himself.

Know it's for the better

Donnie has always thought very logically. A brains over heart, mind over matter kind of turtle. These feelings of…ugh, ‘love’ are just a chemical reaction in his brain. If he could, he’d de-wing every butterfly in his stomach so they’d never flutter again. Which, of course, he knows those damn butterflies aren’t really there in the first place. It’s not real, which is for the better.

Know it's for the better

It’s for your own safety really. He understands that he and his brothers have some really big enemies who would do anything to get to them, even if that meant going after someone he loves. He couldn’t forgive himself if anything ever happened to you. Really, it’s for the better.

Know it's for the better

He knows better. He knows better than to get attached to something that he can’t have, or rather someone. He knows better than to wish unrealistically. He knows better than to dwell on what could have been…sort of. He knows it’s for the for better.

Know it’s for the better

So, he’ll keep pushing you away. He’ll keep his distance, for your sake and his own. It’s for the better that he admires you from afar anyways.

Know it's for the better

Know it's for the better

Know it's for the better

#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt #tmnt #rise donnie #rottmnt x reader #rise donatello #rise leo #rise mikey #donnie hamato #rise raph #rise donatello x reader #rottmnt donnie x reader #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt donatello #rottmnt donatello x reader #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles x reader #rise donnie x reader angst #Spotify

[lexie-squirrel]

Sherlock Holmes is autistic

- “...he had contrived, with that cat-like love of personal cleanliness which was one of his characteristics”. (HOUN) -  “I have [...] an abnormally acute set of senses” (BLAN) - “My friend, who loved above all things precision and concentration of thought, resented anything which distracted his attention from the matter in hand” (SOLI) - “I was never a very sociable fellow, Watson, always rather fond of moping in my rooms and working out my own little methods of thought, so that I never mixed much with the men of my year" (GLOR) -  “Who could come tonight? Some friend of yours, perhaps?” “Except yourself I have none, - he answered. - I do not encourage visitors” (FIVE) - “...his disinclination to form new friendships...” (GREE) - “Without having a tinge of cruelty in his singular composition, he was undoubtedly callous from long over-stimulation. There was no trace then of the horror which I had myself felt at this curt declaration, but his face showed rather the quiet and interested composure of the chemist who sees the crystals falling into position from his over-saturated solution” (VALL) Low empathy - “He was a man of habits, narrow and concentrated habits“ (CREE) - “He had a horror of destroying documents, especially those which were connected with his past cases [...] Thus month after month his papers accumulated, until every corner of the room was stacked with bundles of manuscript which were on no account to be burned, and which could not be put away save by their owner” (MUSG) - “He appears to have a passion for definite and exact knowledge “(STUD) - “...never have I wondered at it more than upon that spring morning in Cornwall when for two hours he discoursed upon celts, arrowheads, and shards” (DEVI) special interest/infodumping - “'My dear doctor,' said he, kindly, 'pray accept my apologies. Viewing the matter as an abstract problem, I had forgotten how personal and painful a thing it might be to you. I assure you, however, that I never even knew that you had a brother until you handed me the watch” (SIGN) low empathy - “Arrest you!' said Holmes. 'This is really most grati - most interesting. On what charge do you expect to be arrested?” (NORD) low empathy -  “We were residing at the time in furnished lodgings close to a library where Sherlock Holmes was pursuing some laborious researches in early English charters” (3STUD) special interest - “My friend's temper had not improved since he had been deprived of the congenial surroundings of Baker Street. Without his scrap-books, his chemicals, and his homely untidiness, he was an uncomfortable man” (3STUD)  - “Holmes could talk exceedingly well when he chose, and that night he did choose. He appeared to be in a state of nervous exaltation. I have never known him so brilliant. He spoke on a quick succession of subjects - on miracle plays, on mediæval pottery, on Stradivarius violins, on the Buddhism of Ceylon, and on the warships of the future - handling each as though he had made a special study of it” (SIGN) special interest/infodumping - “His studies are very desultory and eccentric, but he has amassed a lot of out-of-the-way knowledge which would astonish his professors” (STUD) - “He is not a man that it is easy to draw out, though he can be communicative enough when the fancy seizes him” (STUD) - 'Holmes is a little too scientific for my tastes - it approaches to cold-bloodedness. I could imagine his giving a friend a little pinch of the latest vegetable alkaloid, not out of malevolence, you understand, but simply out of a spirit of inquiry in order to have an accurate idea of the effects” (STUD) low empathy - “He appears to have a passion for definite and exact knowledge” (STUD) - “He seized me by the coat-sleeve in his eagerness, and drew me over to the table at which he had been working” (STUD) personal space problems - “With an apology for my intrusion, I was about to withdraw, when Holmes pulled me abruptly into the room, and closed the door behind me” (REDH)  personal space problems - “...his long, nervous fingers tapping upon the arms of his chair...” (DISA) stimming - “He paced restlessly about our sitting-room in a fever of suppressed energy, biting his nails, tapping the furniture” (BRUC) stimming - “He began biting his nails and staring blankly out of the window” (STOC) stimming - “Yes, I have been guilty of several monographs. They are all upon technical subjects. Here, for example, is one "Upon the Distinction Between the Ashes of the Various Tobaccos." In it I enumerate a hundred and forty forms of cigar, cigarette, and pipe tobacco, with coloured plates illustrating the difference in the ash” (SIGN) special interest - “'Well, he's that strange, sir. After you was gone he walked and he walked, up and down, and up and down, until I was weary of the sound of his footstep” [...]  “I was myself somewhat uneasy when through the long night I still from time to time heard the dull sound of his tread...” (SIGN) stimming - “...in his nervous restlessness, he could not sit still, but paced the carriage or drummed with his long, sensitive fingers upon the cushions beside him” (THOR) stimming - “He appears to know every detail of every horror perpetrated in the century” (STUD) special interest - “When left to himself, however, he would seldom produce any music or attempt any recognized air. Leaning back in his arm-chair of an evening, he would close his eyes and scrape carelessly at the fiddle which was thrown across his knee” (STUD) stimming? - “But this is my special hobby, and the differences are equally obvious. There is as much difference to my eyes between the leaded bourgeois type of a Times article and the slovenly print of an evening halfpenny paper as there could be between your Negro and your Esquimaux” (HOUN) special interest - “'You are hungry”, I remarked. “Starving. It had escaped my memory. I have had nothing since breakfast”.''Nothing?'' “Not a bite. I had no time to think of it” (FIVE) eating problems - “...for days on end he would lie upon the sofa in the sitting-room, hardly uttering a word or moving a muscle from morning to night” (STUD) a shutdown? - “My friend had no breakfast himself, for it was one of his peculiarities that in his more intense moments he would permit himself no food, and I have known him presume upon his iron strength until he has fainted from pure inanition” (NORW) eating problems - “But how do you know that it is hereditary?” ''Because my brother Mycroft possesses it in a larger degree than I do” [...] “He has an extraordinary faculty for figures, and audits the books in some of the Government departments“. [...] . There are many men in London, you know, who, some from shyness, some from misanthropy, have no wish for the company of their fellows. [...] My brother was one of the founders, and I have myself found it a very soothing atmosphere”. [GREE] autism run in families - “We had a pleasant little meal together, during which Holmes would talk about nothing but violins” (CARD) special interest/infodumping - “For two hours the strange business in which we had been involved appeared to be forgotten, and he was entirely absorbed in the pictures of the modern Belgian masters. He would talk of nothing but art, of which he had the crudest ideas” (HOUN) special interest/infodumping - “I remember that during the whole of that memorable day he lost himself in a monograph which he had undertaken upon the Polyphonic Motets of Lassus” [...] “As to Holmes, he returned refreshed to his monograph upon the Polyphonic Motets of Lassus, which has since been printed for private circulation, and is said by experts to be the last word upon the subject” (BRUC) special interest - “Kindly look her up in my index, Doctor,' murmured Holmes, without opening his eyes. For many years he had adopted a system of docketing all paragraphs concerning men and things, so that it was difficult to name a subject or a person on which he could not at once furnish information” (SCAN) - “Sherlock Holmes sat moodily at one side of the fireplace cross-indexing his records of crime” (FIVE) - “The first day Holmes had spent in cross-indexing his huge book of references. The second and third had been patiently occupied upon a subject which he had recently made his hobby - the music of the Middle Ages” (BRUC) special interest - “An anomaly which often struck me in the character of my friend Sherlock Holmes was that, although in his methods of thought he was the neatest and most methodical of mankind, and although also he affected a certain quiet primness of dress, he was none the less in his personal habits one of the most untidy men that ever drove a fellow-lodger to distraction” (MUSG) - “Sherlock Holmes was a man, however, who when he had an unsolved problem upon his mind would go for days, and even for a week, without rest” (TWIS) sleep problems - “The mere sight of his excellent appetite was an assurance of success, for I had very clear recollections of days and nights without a thought of food” (VALL) eating problems - “You are knocking yourself up, old man,' I remarked. 'I heard you marching about in the night”. ''No, I could not sleep”, he answered” (SIGN) sleeping problems - “I do not know how far Sherlock Holmes took any sleep that night, but when I came down to breakfast I found him pale and harassed, his bright eyes the brighter for the dark shadows round them” (NORW) sleep problems

#шерлокиана #Sherlock Holmes #Autistic Sherlock Holmes #ACD Holmes

[natalievoncatte]

Here's a quick snippet of something I'm working on. This is from a discarded draft, but I'm still thinking of rewriting it and using it as the cold open for the story.

The bullet in her leg was going to be a problem.

Lena had been in scrapes before. This was, after all, the third version of her armor, each one built after the previous one had failed her in some way. It had taken her six long years to work out the balance between strength and agility, speed and power; to enhance her stealth abilities and find the right balance of preparation vs weight in her equipment. Prior to that she'd spent almost ten years preparing for her mission. Traveling, studying, learning, inventing.

At first her only concern had been blades and bullets. That had been easy to deal with. Her armored suit consisted of a base layer of electrically activated fibers that simulated fast twitch muscle fibers and could boost her overall strength output five fold, making her the physical equal or better of any enemy she might encounter in the field. A layer of kevlar-nomex triweave and proprietary composite armor plating over that made her quick and agile but well protected against guns and knives.

Tonight she'd learned that well protected wasn't totally protected.

It was almost funny, after everything that had happened in those five years, everything she'd overcome, that a gang of corrupt cops and mob thugs would be the ones to take her down.

Oh, and make no mistake, she had been taken down. She might have escaped the Axis Chemical factory, but she wasn't going to make it to the extraction point, and she knew it. She wasn't going to make it to Alfred this time.

They'd find her, eventually, pry her out of the armor, and reveal to the world that the Batman had been Lena Wayne all along. Of all the things she regretted as the plain flared in her thigh and she felt hot blood flowing beneath the inner layer of her suit, Lena was surprised to find that one of the things she'd regret most was not getting to see the looks on their faces when they found out.

She'd faced down plant toxins and freeze cannons and a shape-shifting monster. Aliens and metahumans and magicians. She'd taken them all on and come up ahead.

You know what? Lena decided, this isn't too bad. No, it wasn't a good death, but she was going out on her terms, knowing that she'd made some small difference. Maybe someone else could carry on her work. She'd left journals behind, set out instructions for what was to be done with her inventions and technology and the Wayne fortune. She would leave good in the world behind her. Martha and Thomas, the people who'd taken her in and raised her, would be proud. Bruce, her little brother who'd been the bravest man she ever knew, would be proud.

Maybe it would be a good death after all.

Lena stumbled through the open construction, threading between exposed I-beams. It wasn't in her to give up, to stop limping forward. She'd locked out her wounded leg, turning the suit rigid so she could hobble on it, and had already hit herself with an adrenaline auto-injector to keep her eyes open. She could make it to the extraction if she just kept moving.

Just keep moving.

As she limped forwards, Lena wondered how she'd get down. One problem at a time. She was in no shape to use a grapple line to get to street level. Keep moving. The pain in her leg was shocking, excruciating. She wondered if the bullet had fractured her femur. Maybe. She'd been hurt before, of course. Bullet to the back that slipped between armor plates and punched through, once, and all the ones that didn't hurt like hell anyway; it was like being pummeled with baseballs.

The display on the inside of her cracked helmet was lit up with warning lights and messages she didn't have time to parse. She knew what some of them were: Corrosive damage to the suit, drained power cells, her vitals plummeting, and the repeating all points bulletins declaring that the Batman was to be arrested on sight for the murder of Jack Napier.

Lena made it to the edge and leaned on a steel beam, looking down. Two blocks over to the extraction point. Alfred would be waiting for her. He'd get her out of the suit, patch her up, make it better. Alfred always made it better. She had to try. She had to try to get back.

Fumbling, she almost tumbled right off the edge until she slumped against the beam, her wounded leg starting to slide out from under her. She had to hug the steel to pull herself back up, prop herself up on the locked armor segments.

No, she wasn't going to make it, she realized. This was it. No heroic last stand, no final sacrifice, just bleeding out in a half-finished bougie apartment complex that had been stripped of all its copper five times. Lena wanted to laugh, but her lungs could only wheeze.

She almost didn't realize it when the half-skeletal building shook from a gust of wind.

No, not a wind. A blur of motion.

Her HUD lit up with proximity alarms, the onboard computers panicking when the sensor systems started failing from lack of power or severe damage. She really wanted to laugh. What now?

Turning, Lena put a hand on the beam to keep herself upright, and sighed.

No amount of preparation, no amount of refinement to her suit, would ever prepare her for this.

The Kryptonian strode across the plywood construction floor, cape majestically billowing behind her. Even in the dark she seemed alive with light, haloing her flawless golden curls and alive in her sky blue eyes, like she brought the sun with her. Her bright blue and red uniform stood in stark contrast against the muted grays, blues, and blacks of Gotham by night. Below them, sirens wailed. Hunters on the prowl for their wounded prey.

"What do you want?" Lena rasped. Her helmet altered her force into a deep growl.

"Batman," said Supergirl, "there's an all points bulletin out for your arrest."

"What else is new?"

Even now, she was the detective, stalling. The helmet's systems were scanning Supergirl's face, matching against her own facial recognition database using algorithms she'd written herself. The suit did all this automatically, so that she had complete files when she returned to the Cave.

"They're saying you killed a man tonight," said Kara. "I'm taking you in."

"I'm not going anywhere with you," Lena coughed, the sound exploding in a garbled belch from her damaged helmet.

"You can barely stand," said Supergirl. "That wound in your leg needs medical attention. Just let me help you."

"Help me?" Lena spat, reaching for her belt. "Don't be absurd."

"You're coming with me either way," said Supergirl, edging closer. "Trying to fight me is pointless. You don't stand a chance."

"Want to test that theory?" said Lena.

Supergirl shook her head.

The suit came back with a facial recognition match.

DANVERS, KARA.

Her biographical data began to scroll across Lena's vision. She dismissed it with a laugh.

"It figures," she muttered.

"What?" said Supergirl. She moved closer. "I can hear your heart rate decreasing. I'll take you to a hospital. I promise, you'll get a fair hearing, you just-"

Lena laughed again. "A fair hearing. You must be joking."

Supergirl edged closer. "Wait. You're using a voice changer."

Lena's eyes shot open wide inside her helmet. "How... of course. Superhuman hearing, right?"

"Wait," said Kara, "wait, I know that voice. Lena?"

#supercorp #supergirl fanfiction #supercorp fanfic #supergirl #lena luthor #kara danvers #kara x lena #karlena #supergirl fanfic #Bat!Lena #AU #what if the waynes adopted Lena instead

[blissfulip]

—Legion

On AO3

Priest!Viktor x F!demon!reader

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Priest Kink, Blasphemy, Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Self-Flagellation, Demon Sex, Demon Summoning, Demon/Human Relationships, demon reader, AU - Canon Divergence, Post medieval era, Dubious Science, Church Sex, Roman Catholicism, Catholic Guilt, Improper Use of Catholic Rituals, Shameless Smut, Masturbation

Cw: blood, self flagellation, masturbation

Words: 1.7k

[A/N: extremely blasphemous, but again, you saw the tags. Please read at your own risk! (also, let me know if you want to be tagged or removed in future fic updates!)]

Tags: @ihopeinevergetsoberr @chemical-killjoy @jinxed-jk @bobobomao @queen-of-elves @thedustybunny @syren201 @thayfass @thehistoriangirl @hypocritic-trash-baby

Playlist made by my baby Soln <3 @ihopeinevergetsoberr

Next

I.

Extra ecclesiam nulla salus. 

 There is a certain comfort in fear. When you see what awaits you at the gaping, harrowing mouth of hell, knowledge of the place you must avoid, ultimately, is power. There was a time when Viktor pitied those who did not know—those who lived despondent lives, unaware and unafraid of damnation. Recently, he had found himself wishing he knew less. 

 A ravening beast with a thousand bloody teeth, inside its mouth a cauldron, and in it the souls of the accursed with sin, boiling over scorching flames as legions of fiendish demons dragged in multitudes more. This image plagued Viktor’s mind without rest, be it vividly in his dreams, in the colossal fresco at the entrance of his local cathedral, or in the comical props onstage at the theater plays. 

 The parish clergy that had taken him in as a kid had made the mistake of noticing his outstanding intelligence and awarding him time to dedicate to studying philosophy, a privilege that many of the choir monks and lay brothers did not receive. In university, philosophy had turned into physics, and soon that turned into astronomy, which he had to keep a secret on account of the recent prohibitions put in place by Paul V’s Inquisition over the study of Copernican theories. 

 After he was ordained and returned to his home cathedral, this once silent yet innocent interest had turned into complete secrecy, and the fear of God that had once given him solace now tormented him. At times he considered giving up on his work; the mechanical objections of Copernican theory should not be of this much significance to him after all; there had to be something of value in what Thomas Aquinas had to say, and perhaps Agustine of Hippo had some good points. Nevertheless, it was the night sky that called to him, and even this far from it, he could not escape. 

 But outside the church there is no salvation , and Viktor knew that even if he was never to be condemned as a heretic in life, what awaited him in death was a flaming tomb at Epicure's side. Quod extra ecclesiam nulla salus. 

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

His parish was a pious one, but Viktor would refuse to receive lithe from the members of his church. The first time he tried this, the bishop was immediately alerted, and he was secluded to live in the small room inside the chapel as a ‘punishment’ for his impertinence. Viktor did not mind; the lands he had been previously allotted were too much to care for on his own, with cleaning being especially hard once his leg would start tiring out, and the presence of the personnel of lay brothers that would follow him around made his studies impossible; thus, the contained space of the church was comfortable to live in on his own.

 It had been a particularly cold morning. The week before, he had received word of the imminent visit of his diocesan bishop, and the impending possibility of his stay at any moment in the near future had tied his eyebrows into a permanent knot and his shoulders into a tense bundle of nerves since that morning. 

 To his dismay, the state of his works had made no decent progress, his journal being nothing more than a few numbers and three words on a painfully empty piece of parchment. He understood Latin; he had studied it at length in university, but when he took a break to read the Bible, the words on it floated around aimlessly, in a messy concoction of nothing. 

 “Per fidem enim ambulamus et non per speciem,” he repeated to himself in a whisper, and then closed the pages lethargically. 

 He read the cover of a white volume that had been lying on his desk for over a month now. He was sure he would have possibly agreed with what Foscarini had to say, so the feeling of dread he felt every time he laid eyes upon the title was mystifying to him. Though it made sense after some reflection, he was afraid. 

 When he read Copernicus, it felt distant, a world he was only a visitor in, but the Foscarini was a carmelite father, one of his own that was now nothing short of a persona non-grata in the eyes of the Roman Catholic Church. Viktor was afraid that what he had to say might make sense and that he might be so correct in his observations that this knowledge would drag him into the same status. 

 In retrospect, he should not have read it. 

 In fact, opening the cover was a big mistake on its own. Not even 3 pages in, the door of his room unceremoniously barged open, revealing the full figure of Father Isodore. Viktor and him never really got along; his time in the monastery as a kid was full of rule-breaking and inappropriate questions, and to Father Isidore’s dismay, insatiable curiosity remained Viktor’s fatal flaw well into his adulthood. 

 Not a single word was uttered as he carried his sunny disposition and rubicund complexion over to Viktor’s desk. There was no use in trying to hide what he was holding; Viktor carried the same guilty look on his face every time he did something he was not supposed to. Once a cute kid trying to hide some innocent misdeeds, his expression had grown into one of unadulterated shame and indignity in the wake of sin, and the bishop knew this all too well. The book was snatched off his hands aggressively.

“‘Epistle concerning the mobility of the earth’,” he read, “would be an interesting read if only as a piece of fiction, and perhaps in a different climate.”

“Your excellence, I eh—”

“Save it. Don’t worsen your sin by bearing false witness.”

Viktor looked down and sighed in resignation, a disappointed sadness creeping up in his throat.

“You are very much aware those texts have been forbidden, but since words seem to slide off you, I hope physical penance can remind you of your depravity,” Father Isidore said coldly as he handed Viktor the whip that usually served as no more than a piece of decoration adorning his wall. “Ten of them, and be intentional. One pater noster after each.”

“Yes, father.”

“It’s a shame; I have come to congratulate you on your work for the community. Repent. ” The emphasis on the last word punctuated his departure.

A cold feeling arose in Viktor’s stomach as he looked down at the whip, something akin to fear but also awfully comparable to excitement.

Three deep breaths are what he allowed himself; it would be better to get it over with as quickly as possible. He removed his vestments unhurriedly, only his bottoms remaining as he sluggishly kneeled by the bed, and the chilled air on his back was, in hindsight, not as bad as he thought at the moment. His hand trembled slightly when his grip on the whip tightened, and his jaw locked into a gritted grin as he sucked air in through his teeth.

The first flick of his arm was swift, like ripping away a bandage to make the pain go away as fast as your wrist could tug at it. It did not help; the feeling of the small metal beads digging into his skin was instantaneous, and it disappeared soon, but the burning that replaced it lingered.

“ Pater noster, qui es in cælis:sanctificetur nomen tuum; adveniat regnum tuum; fiat voluntas tua, sicut in cælo et in terra .”

A swarm of ants biting at the exposed skin on his back was a scorching fire.

“Panem nostrum quotidianum da nobis hodie,et dimitte nobis debita nostra, sicut et nos dimittimus debitoribus nostris; et ne nos inducas in tentationem; sed libera nos a malo.”

Then it subsided, and the slight chills on his arms were due to something else. He took his time with the second hit, languidly whipping both hands back this time to maintain the same level of strength. The aching this time was different; the burning of his skin was quenched by the few droplets of blood and sweat trickling down his spine. And there was something else—a burning feeling that was misplaced not on his back or wrists but in his lower stomach.

“Pater noster, qui es in cælis:sanctificetur nomen...” He started once again, both hands holding one another around the handle of the whip, closed in prayer as he shut his eyes tightly for concentration. This proved to be fruitless when an uncomfortable tightness in the fabric around his crotch distracted his attention away from the words he was reciting. He tried to continue with his prayer, but an ill-calculated movement tugged at the tender skin of his back, and the brief sting made the already confining feeling worsen, morphing into an odd mixture of ache and delight.

He figured out what this meant soon enough. The conflicting feeling did not originate from any sort of confusion about what he was experiencing; it came with the quandary of his two options: either keep going to conclude his penalty and follow orders, or go against those orders to avoid tainting this sacred act with his depravity.

He unlaced his trousers before going for the third whip. The aching feeling on his back was almost completely gone, replaced by a numb tingling along the wounded skin and an unbearable heat in his groin. The fourth hit was one-handed. Right hand wrapping tightly along the handle and left hand mirroring the grip around his cock as he pumped himself mechanically. When the metal hit the skin, a jolt of what felt like electricity traveled all the way down to his stomach, the member on his hand twitching in anticipation.

There was no fifth hit or anything beyond that. A final tug with a firm hand and gritted teeth culminated in his climax, hot viscosity percolating through his fingers as he rested his forehead on the edge of the bed. His chest heaved up and down as he whispered a string of prayers. Shame washed over him.

“Castigo corpus meum.” He repeated incessantly until he had enough strength in his legs to stand.

#viktor #arcane viktor #viktor arcane #viktor x reader #arcane #arcane au #viktor au #priest au #legion #Spotify

[thoughtfulchaos773]

Syd & Carmy- Romantic Beats

Preface:

Studying this I see the second season uses steps 3-7 since we had our chemical equation and met cute the 1st season. You'll see gif examples 3-7 that show the beats of the season two.

Billy Mernit defines the “seven basic romantic comedy beats” in his book  Writing the Romantic Comedy. I'm observing that writing a romcom for a TV series is like a rollercoaster for beats, taking curves and dips that keep the series at a pace where the viewer is guessing. So beats repeat themselves and set themselves up for the next season.

The romantic beats are described as--

1. The Chemical Equation - The setup, there's something wrong in the protagonist's life. There's a missing piece in the main character's story. This is where we identify the protagonist's external and/or internal conflict.

2. The meet cute or catalyst - The incident that brings them together - and this should relate to the theme of the story. This meeting sets the tone for their relationship.

When the secondary lead is introduced- there should be some hints that this romantic interest is the missing piece of the Protagonist's chemical equation.

The Bear: I'd also add that with romantic comedies, the meet-cute should have some humor in it. (What’s UPS, is that in Chicago, or?) . As we talk on this platform- the meet cute was the proper example of a romcom.

3. The Sexy Complication -This is the first proper clash between the heroine and the hero. Higher stakes define the main character's goals. Typically, the external problem keeps them apart, or you can use internal conflict that keeps them apart. Traditionally occurring at the end of Act 1, a new development that raises story stakes and clearly defines the protagonist’s goal.

Season One episode Three: Syd is officially the sous chef and has a hard time with the staff. She comes in with the intention of changing The Beef for the better, however, Carmy is stuck in his old ways and past toxic experiences in the kitchen.

Season two episode three: The first clash starts 2x03 Sundae, after their technical meet cute- 2x02 pasta showing new closeness for season 2, however After 2x03 Sundae we see repeats of the sexy complication- since Syd and Carmy's relationship is the plot of the show- the stakes rise as the pressure to open The Bear is approaching and Claire comes into the picture- causing a bigger complication between Syd & Carmy.

4. The Hook. The midpoint scene sticks the two characters together. There's no way out, and this should reflect the theme of the movie.

This hints at the outcome of the relationship and gives hints of the potential between the two characters. There can be sexual tension involved or a detailed moment that shows the two characters are becoming closer.

Season one episodes Three and Five: Syd and Carmy reach an understanding and episodes three and five show vulnerability as Carmy reveals his brother was an addict and Syd shares the failure of Sheridan Road catering.

Season Two Episode Nine: After complications, Syd and Carmy reach a moment of understanding. This is the most romantically suggestive scene with prominent sexual tension.

5. The swivel - This is the moment after the hero and heroine have become closer, when their conflict comes back again, in a different form.  a turning point that makes the stakes higher and hurts the main character's goal, or vice versa, leading to a changed goal. The main character is forced to choose between love and the goal.

Season one and two: in both seasons Carmy loses his cool with Sydney. The first season she walks away and the season two Syd calms Carmy down.

What's interesting is that the song Spiders (kidsmoke) by Wilco plays in both scenes giving us hints of parallels.

6. Dark Moment – This is the consequence of the swivel. The characters have to reveal private motivations, and it seems that either the love or the goal is lost forever. The main character is at their most vulnerable point.

Season One Episode 8: The revealing of private motivation occurs in 1x08 When Carmy is in al-anon. He reveals that his trying to fix the restaurant was him trying to fix the relationship with Mikey. At this point, love (Sydney) and the goal (fixing my relationship with Mikey) are lost forever. The vulnerable point is Carmy facing the chaos in his internal world.

Season Two Episode 10: I'm a fսckin'... I'm a fսckn' psycho. That's why. That's why I'm good at what I do. That's how I operate. I am the best because I didn't have any of this fսck¡n' bullshit, right?

Wherein the consequences of the swivel decision yield disaster; generally, the humiliating scene where private motivations are revealed, and either the relationship and/or the protagonist’s goal is seemingly lost forever.

7. Joyful Defeat – reconciliation between the characters that remind the audience how important the relationship is to them, usually (but not always) with a happy ending that implies marriage – but usually at the cost of something the main character has had to sacrifice.

Season One Episode 8: Two tops? Booths?

Nuff said.

Season two: We're left with a cliffhanger for the Joyful defeat. Will the reconciliation happen in season three? Will we have a happy ending and what will Carmy sacrifice? Will he choose love or the goal? Will Syd choose love or the goal of getting the star?

Oh the slow burn is real! Storer, what are you doing here? This is a romcom!

#sydcarmy #carmy x sydney #carmy and sydney #chef's kiss #the bear meta #the bear #the bear fx #sydney adamu #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto #the bear spoilers #sydney x carmy #platonic and messy #charged and sexy #thoughtful chaos posts

[himegureisu]

4 | the Woman

Summary: There are times when cases need a woman's touch. This is where you finally introduce yourself to your brother-in-law. This is set at the end of S2 E1 A Scandal in Belgravia.

Pairing: Mycroft Holmes x Female Reader

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“There are people we can get into this,” Mycroft said,

“I tested that theory for you. I let Sherlock Holmes try for six months,” she bragged, “Sherlock, dear, tell him what you uncovered through that x-ray of my phone,”

Irene Adler, professionally known as the Woman, a dominatrix of significant influence was obvious. Her only advantage was the fact she was playing against men.

Half a year, the Holmes men stumped at what to do. What a sight, however, it’s best to end their misery.

The Woman hands over her list of requests. However, that’s not going to happen, not on your watch.

“Oh, that’s a shame. Can’t I join in the fun?” you said.

Their eyes shifted as you entered the study in your battledress. Her exchange pauses as you stand behind Mycroft. Your brother-in-law quietly observes and thinks by the fireplace. His head towards the three of you.

“I did hope Sherlock would get this one,” you sighed, as you stretched your hand out to Irene, “May I?”

“Be my guest,” she offered.

“You’re rather transparent,” you twirl the mobile in your hands, “You don’t need a genius to unlock this. Just a woman that understands her kind,”

“Oh, do go on,” she stands, to sit on the edge of the table.

“There are times when women are affected by their interests. Others would say this is a disadvantage. Yours are the Holmes men, specifically, Sherlock. There was no other way to get to Sherlock without committing a crime except in your profession, you could pursue a different avenue,” Your eyes rest on Mycroft as they start to figure it out, “Two birds in one stone. Agitate the older brother, you get the younger. Women play a different kind of dirty and you played a game against men that was your advantage. God, did you pull their strings well but that ends tonight. The psychology of women, gentlemen, is that the most obvious is sometimes the most overlooked,”

“Craving the distraction of the game I sympathize entirely but sentiment?” Sherlock stands, walks over, and reaches out to you for the phone which you finally hand over, “Sentiment is a chemical element found on the losing side,”

Oh, Sherlock how wrong you are on that. Love and sentiment can be an advantage.

“When we first met, you told me that disguise is always a self-portrait,” Sherlock mused, facing the Woman, “How true of you. The combination to your safe, your measurements, but this is far more intimate. This is your heart, and you should never let it rule your head.”

“You just couldn’t resist, could you?” you interjected.

“Everything I said, it wasn’t real,” she whispered, silently pleading to Sherlock, “I was just playing the game,”

“This is just losing,”

I AM SHER LOCKED

“Thank you for the additional information,” he addressed you, “It was enlightening,”

“There you are, brother,” he passes the device to Mycroft, “I hope the contents may make up for any inconvenience I may have caused you tonight,”

“I’m certain they will,” Mycroft assured. His brother started to stare out the window, “If you’re feeling kind, lock her up otherwise let her go,”

Willaim Sherlock Scott Holmes was nearly outsmarted by a woman. What a brilliant turn of events.

It wasn’t long until someone escorted the woman away leaving you to the Holmes men.

“I thought he wouldn’t get it,” you address Mycroft, sitting on the chair he previously occupied to observe Sherlock, “Then again if he knew where to look for the safe code, he would get it eventually,”

“Why are you here?” Mycroft said. You give a look and say, “You know why I’m here,”

“Who are you?” Sherlock asks.

“Do make a deduction, Mr. Holmes,” you challenged, standing up for a better view, “What can you say about me? Oh, I heard you’re quite good at this,”

His eyes quickly take a once over you. To the way you did your hair, makeup, and casual clothes. His brother, your husband, hovered on the other side of the table.

What will Sherlock say about you?

“On your dominant hand, your middle finger is calloused from how you hold your pen, suggesting office worker. In a high position, by the value of your shoes. Your makeup suggests you like to be presentable but not elaborate or gaudy. Your clothes are clean except for a few loose strands of hair. No pets. Your engagement and wedding rings, shiny and clean, happily married then. Your husband is successful in his career by the size of that diamond and…”

His ramble paused. His eyes meeting yours, you give a casual curious gaze. His senses were on overdrive, recognizing the particular scent of leather of a car that often escorted him to his brother.

“No, that’s not possible,” Sherlock withdrew, “Has my brother found himself a goldfish?”

“No, not a goldfish, brother mine,” Mycroft defends. His ring, matching yours, shines in the firelight, “No, she’s out of their league,”

“How long has that taken him?” you asked Mycroft, in front of you as Sherlock remained speechless, “A minute,”

“A good minute, yes,” he confirms, as he goes to stand by your side, “I do wonder why you decided to reveal yourself, my dear,”

“I was fed up. You two dancing in her tune for half the year,” you complained, “You ditched Christmas Morning traditions,”

“I promised to make it up to you, my dear,” Mycroft reminded, however, unable to act on his plans yet, “And I did return earlier than expected,”

“Six years, Myc! We never shirk on trad —”

Before you can finish your ramble, Mycroft leans in and presses his lips against yours in a tender kiss. It was a pleasant interruption.

One Sherlock didn’t appreciate.

Your eyes widen for a moment before you melt against him. Your arms wrap around his waist, returning the sentiment. Sherlock clears his throat, breaking the moment between you and Mycroft.

“Years?” he remarked, “I never knew the Iceman could melt,”

“No, just thaws from time to time,” you cheekily smile at Mycroft who rolled his eyes, “Are you two finished? I’d like to turn in before the sun comes out, ensures at least one of us gets sleep,”

“We are finished,” Mycroft affirmed, walking toward the door, “Do us a reprieve, brother mine, don’t take cases on the weekend. You don’t know what it does to our schedule,”

“It was nice meeting you, brother-in-law,” you teased, your smile caught him off guard, as you walked to Mycroft’s side. He didn’t remember the last time someone was pleased to meet him. They were often annoyed or irritated. “Have a good evening,”

His brother has been married for years, and he didn’t know. How could he not know?

“Shame I’d wanted to see the Woman in cuffs,” you comment, as you walk side by side through the halls, “It would have made for an interesting night,”

“Would you like that, my dear?” Mycroft asks.

“If you’re open to it,”

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#mycroft holmes #mycroft #bbc mycroft #bbc mycroft holmes #mycroft holmes x reader #mycroft x reader #bbc sherlock #xreader #mycroft holmes x you

[totallyunidentified]

Warm

A little TechPhee something because I love them so much

Warm.

That's how he felt when he looked at her.

He could read a thousand articles and study hundreds of dictionaries in thousands of languages but no other word could describe the feeling he had when he looked at Phee Genoa

He considered it too simple a word for her.

But as he perused his extensive mental libraries, no other could describe the feeling she gave him.

Tech wasn't stupid. A fact he reminded his brothers of constantly.

He knew what love was, knew that it was technically a chemical reaction in the brain.

He never knew how all encompassing it was.

His mind was always racing. Always thinking about a myriad of things.

His ship, the repairs it needed.

His siblings, where they were, what they were doing.

How they would keep making credits.

The latest issue of a science journal he enjoyed.

But ever since that day in Cid's office his thoughts were interrupted by thoughts of Phee.

Phee

Phee

Phee

What she looked like, what she sounded like.

What she was thinking.

Her knowledge of history and the way she listened to him when he rambled. When he looked at her it was like the raging rapids of his mind calmed into a lazy river.

And all he could think about was Phee.

He tried to stop. He’d think about something else. Anything else, but it always lead back to Phee

He didn’t always understand her.

But that was ok.

She seemed to understand him. Even if he reacted to situations differently.

She made him want to smile, to say things to make her smile.

He would do anything to hear her call him Brown eyes, to hear her laugh.

When she was near him his heart soared faster than the Marauder.

He had told her about Crosshair. One day they were both in the Archium discussing the artifacts therein.

There was an empty spot between an old relic, a block of stone with swirling details and a golden goblet.

They were researching what could be put there and somehow the conversation turned to Crosshair.

And she just listened.

Not interrupting. Just listening.

That was more than enough for him.

He wishes he could tell her how he felt.

He wishes he knew how to describe it to himself.

The only word he could think was,

Warm.

ᐧ

ᐧ

ᐧ

Cold.

That’s what he felt as he shot that connector between the cars.

But as he fell he thought of her.

And it wasn’t cold anymore

It was Warm

#the bad batch #star wars #tbb #bad batch #the bad batch season 3 #tbb spoilers #tbb hunter #tbb tech #tbb techphee #tech #tech my beloved #the bad batch tech #clone trooper tech

[cherryredstars]

CHERRYYY!! OMG LOOK

so I found this silly little tiktok while I was scrolling and...

https://www.tiktok.com/@__av.enue/video/7263884206076448001

I just wanted to ask if you could write something based on that?? 🤭

Idk much about writing so I'll just leave the rest to you and give you that

Thank you and have a good day/night!! :D

Warnings: Military AU, Talks of Death, Mentions of Abandonment, Slight Mentions with gn!reader

Summary: What if Miguel joined the military?

A/N: That tik tok is so!!!!!! I loved it!!! Made it more military than COD based because I didn’t want to steal those ideas!

Word Count: 1.1K (Edited)

Miguel never wanted to join the military. Gabriel was the one who had enlisted, and he loved it. He would come to visit Miguel while on leave and tell his big brother about his war stories and comrades. He would gush about the dreams he had to be part of a more elite squad and have a higher position. Gabriel would constantly hint at Miguel that he would be a great fit for the military with his love for rules and his large physique. Miguel would always brush it off, more content in his current work as a geneticist. 

The day he had woken up to a knock on his door will always haunt him. He was dressed in nothing but basketball shorts, hair still messy from sleep when he opened the door to find two dressed soldiers at his doorstep. They held grim, stoic expressions as a folded flag rested in their arms. Miguel’s grip on the doorknob tightened as they recited the rehearsed lines spoken when they had to report a death to a family. Miguel had tuned them out, staring past them until their mouths stopped moving. He wordlessly took the flag from them and closed the door with a nod. Later that night, Miguel drank an entire bottle of bourbon in the dark of his living room, furniture and objects shattered on the floor around him. 

A few weeks later, Miguel enlisted for the same branch Gabriel was in. He had finished boot camp at the top of his platoon, earning him an E-3 rank. Right after, he had started his AIT, choosing to study as a specialist for nuclear, chemical, and biological threats. With his former science background, he was able to do well. After graduation, he got a few days of break before he was assigned to a unit. 

It was slow for him to make friends, more focused on trying to work his way up and complete his brother’s goals. But eventually, he was able to warm up the slightest bit and found camaraderie among his fellow soldiers. 

It was hard for him to see some of his friends die in the field. No matter how many times it happened, it never got easier for him to deal with it. Sometimes, he questioned why Gabriel would want to live a life like this, why Miguel even bothered to make friends with people who are more destined to die than to live. But, the longer he stayed in the military the more he realized that no one wants to actually end up dead. That, the thought of throwing your life away gets easier when you know you aren’t dying alone. That, if you do end up dying, there will be people who hold onto your memory. Someone who will hold the pain for you and tell your story. He hopes someone shares his story in the same way he shares Gabriel’s when he dies. 

During one of his leaves, he had a drunken one night stand. He forgets about it, thinking nothing of it as he leaves for duty again. It only comes to bite him in the ass when he returns on leave again, finding out he got her pregnant. He doesn’t want kids. Not when he’s in the military and he spends more time on duty than in his own home.  How was he supposed to be a father if he’s forced to be a soldier first? What’s even worse, once the baby is born (a daughter he affectionately names Gabriella after his brother), her mother ups and leaves. He had no idea what to do, a now single father who won’t be able to be there during the crucial years of his daughter’s life. He ends up letting a military friend’s wife take care of her when he has to leave for duty, he later hires a nanny once Gabriella gets older. 

During another one of his leaves, he meets you. Between the military and taking care of his daughter, he finds little room for you at first. But eventually, a date happens. And that turns into more dates until you’re living in his home taking care of his daughter while he’s away. It brings him the greatest amount of joy when he comes back home, and among the civilian families, you and Gabriella stand waving excitedly for him. 

Both of his dog tags stay at home. The first tag, he had given to Gabriella to hold on to when she was younger. He had held on to the other one before he had given it to you. He has to hide his smile every time he looks towards the dining room table to see you and Gabriella, eating happily with matching tags around your necks. In return, a folded and sun damaged photo of Gabriella and you are tucked into his breast pocket, right over his heart. 

After having Gabriella and dating you, his fear of dying has increased. It pains him to think he would leave behind the two greatest people the world has ever gifted him with. The thought of you or Gabriella opening the door, just like he did years ago, to find someone holding a flag out as a shitty apology haunts him. In his nightmares, Gabriella hears the knock and opens the door. You come walking behind her, scolding her for opening the door for strangers. But, the words turn into sobs as two men (the same ones that showed up at his door for Gabriel) give you the same death speech and hand you a blood-stained flag. His dream always ends with Gabriella asking, “Do you think they’re Papa’s friends? Maybe they know when he’s coming home.”

Despite his fear, he always makes it home. He gets achievements and awards for his military work. He gets promoted to higher ranks, becomes part of that elite squad Gabriel always talked about. Gets the title that should have been Gabriel’s instead of Miguel’s.

He stays in the military for the full 20 years that are required if he wants retirement benefits. When those twenty years are up, he happily goes home to the both of you, knowing the threats of not coming home are gone. He spends the rest of his life working as a geneticist again, coming home to the loves of his life at the same time every day. 

Every year, on the day those soldiers come to Miguel’s door, he goes down to visit Gabriel’s grave. He sets down a fresh bouquet of flowers and sits there catching his brother up on what he missed since his last visit. And each year, Miguel thanks Gabriel for the family he found because of his years in the military. He thanks Gabriel for being the reason he now has you and Gabriella waiting for him at home. When he leaves the cemetery, he always has his hands shoved in his pockets, clutching onto a pair of dog tags that have his last name engraved on them, but aren’t his.

I apologize if I used any terms wrong or if things aren’t accurate. Despite coming from a military family, I have no idea what I’m talking about and everything was creative liberty or looked up.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x y/n #atsv miguel #miguel ohara x you #across the spiderverse #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel ohara fanfiction #miguel o hara #military au #miguel o'hara headcanons #miguel o'hara hcs #miguel ohara headcanon #miguel ohara #cherry's requests🍒

[indieyuugure]

Who’s the first one to realize Donnie needs help? (Ngl I kinda expect him to hide the sickness, bc that’s what he would do) love the idea btw!!

Mikey does. He was helping Donnie in his lab when he noticed Donnie wasn’t looking so hot.

Though Donnie doesn’t actually mean to have been “hiding” it. He really doesn’t think anything is wrong with him since the first symptoms are feeling tired and a headache which you can also get from sleeping on concrete and being dehydrated. It isn’t until it starts getting pretty bad that he starts thinking something might be up. He actually does study their mutated DNA, but it’s not his thank to this:

If Donnie had used his spit, he might’ve caught something, but he doesn’t catch the issue until he starts feeling the more severe effects.

Donnie doesn’t try to hide it, though. He knows exactly how bad it is. He definitely tries to pretend he’s less pain than he actually is, but he does tell his brothers what’s going on because he needs them to help him get some of the chemicals he’s short on and hopefully the recipe from Stockman’s lab. And of course they have to ultimately finish concocting the Anti-X

Good Question! :]

#tmnt #the mutation situation #tmnt 2012 #teenage mutant ninja turtles 2012