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pucksandpower · 3 months

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Lessons in Anatomy

Charles Leclerc x medical student!Reader

Summary: studying can be hard … good thing your boyfriend is more than happy to let you get some hands-on experience

You let out a heavy sigh as you flip through the anatomy textbook in front of you. As a first year medical student, you’ve been spending most late nights recently trying to memorize every muscle, nerve, and blood vessel in the human body.

Lately you’ve been completely absorbed in learning about the upper limbs — the shoulders, arms, hands and fingers — and it’s all starting to blend together.

Closing the textbook, you stand up and stretch your arms above your head, feeling the pull in your deltoids and biceps. You’ve read so much about the muscles, it might help to actually palpate and feel where they are on your own body.

You lift your right arm out to the side until it’s parallel with the floor, palm facing down. Gently, you place your left hand on your right deltoid and feel the round contour of the muscle. You trace your fingertips along the borders, visualizing how the muscle attaches on the humerus bone.

“What are you doing?”

You jump at the sound of your boyfriend’s voice behind you. Lost in thought, you didn’t hear him come home.

“Oh, I’m just, uh, palpating my deltoid muscle,” you say sheepishly as you drop your arm back to your side. “Trying to get a feel for where the muscles actually are.”

Charles grins, his bright green eyes twinkling with amusement at finding you in such an odd pose. “My talented girlfriend, always studying so hard,” he says.

You can’t help but smile back at him. The two of you met in school years ago, long before Charles became an F1 driver and your life became a whirlwind of travel, media attention, and hardly getting to see each other when coupled with your own studies. Moments like this — relaxed, easy, normal — have become few and far between.

Charles walks over to you and surprises you by taking your hand and placing it onto his upper arm.

“Here, feel mine instead so you don’t have to contort yourself,” he offers. “I’ll be your anatomy model.”

You laugh lightly and begin palpating the hard, defined muscles of his arm through his thin t-shirt. You locate the boundaries of his deltoid, impressed by the athletic development.

“Very nice delts,” you say teasingly.

“Why thank you, I work out sometimes,” Charles replies with a cheeky wink.

You roll your eyes but can’t hide your smile. His playful arrogance is one of the things you love most about him.

Slowly, you map out the contours of his shoulder, mentally labeling the muscles — supraspinatus, infraspinatus, teres minor. Charles watches your focused expression with affection.

“How’s it going so far?” He asks. “Am I a good model?”

“Mmhmm,” you murmur absently, engrossed in your exploration.

You move down his arm, wrapping your hands gently around his biceps. You note the two distinct heads of the muscle.

“Can you flex for me?” You ask professionally.

Charles obliges, flexing his bicep and causing it to bulge up under your hands.

“Excellent, thank you,” you say, impressed by the muscle definition. Your fingers drift down his arm to his forearm, tracing the brachioradialis.

You are hyperaware of Charles’ eyes following your every movement. There’s an intimacy to having your hands on him like this that makes your heart beat faster. You try to remain focused, but with him standing so close, his warmth radiating onto you, it’s difficult to think clinically.

When you take his hand in yours, turning it palm up to examine the tendons along his wrist and fingers, you’re struck by its elegant beauty.

His hands may spend most days encased in racing gloves, but they still hold such graceful strength and capability. You find yourself tenderly tracing along the lines of his palm, the indentation at the base of each finger.

You look up to see Charles watching you, his expression soft and affectionate. Impulsively, you lift his hand to your lips and place a kiss along his knuckles. His eyes widen slightly in surprise before he smiles.

“I don’t think that’s part of the medical curriculum,” he says, his voice low.

You grin. “Just conducting some independent research.”

Charles lifts his other hand to lightly trace his fingertips along your jawline, leaving a trail of tingles along your skin.

“Well in that case, I think you need to continue your in-depth examination,” he murmurs.

Your pulse quickens as his fingers trail down your neck and along your collarbone. Gently, he turns you around so your back is to him and sweeps your hair over one shoulder. You shiver pleasantly at the feeling of his hands gliding along the slopes of your shoulders.

“It’s important to know the trapezius muscle,” he says close to your ear. His fingers skim down from the base of your neck, tracing the borders of the trapezius down toward your shoulder blades. You close your eyes, focusing on the sensation.

“Mmm yes, very important,” you breathe.

His hands span across your upper back, gently kneading into the muscle. You let out an appreciative sigh, the tension you’ve been carrying in your back dissolving under his touch.

Charles places a kiss to the curve of your neck as his hands work their way down your spine, counting each vertebrae.

“The vertebral column is quite elegant, don’t you think?” He murmurs against your skin. You hum in agreement, eyes still closed.

When his hands come to rest just above your waist, your breath catches in anticipation. His touch is driving you crazy but you don’t want him to stop.

Slowly, he slides his hands around your waist to your stomach, splaying his fingers possessively across your abdomen. He pulls your back against his chest until no space remains between you.

“How am I doing as your study partner?” He asks, nuzzling into the crook of your neck.

“Mmm, top of the class,” you reply a little breathlessly.

He grins against your skin. “Maybe we should move this study session somewhere more comfortable.”

You turn around to face him, draping your arms lazily around his neck. “I’ll have to clear my schedule. My boyfriend’s this really busy, important Formula 1 driver, you know.”

Charles smiles, leaning in close until his nose brushes yours. “I think he can make time for you.”

He closes the remaining distance, bringing his mouth to yours in a kiss that curls your toes. You melt into him, all thoughts of anatomy and studying dissolving from your mind.

In this moment, it’s just the two of you, wrapped up in each other. The chaos of life fades away and you’re reminded why you endure the challenges of his demanding career.

Because at the end of the day, you have this — your love, steadfast and true. The rest of the world falls away and you’re home.

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gh0stswh0re · 1 year

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"relax your throat, darling"

warnings: f! reader, blowjobs + deepthroating, mutual masturbation, domestic fluff, inexperienced reader, established relationship, mentions of the reader being a virgin prior to the relationship, soft dom simon, praise

a/n: i spent an embarrassingly long time writing this and it's still barely a meh. it can be taken as a pt3 to the ghost x virgin (!) reader fic, although it's not implied anywhere + it lacks any proper storyline. this is more of a dribble than anything else.

...

nearly twenty minutes have passed since he picked you up in the kitchen, threw you over his shoulder, and carried you over to the couch – all of your protesting, giggling and playful hitting were to no avail.

it didn't really bother you, the feeling of domesticity; despite how quickly it settled into your lives – living together for barely three weeks and the tiny four-room apartment already started to feel like home.

the early morning cuddles which soon turned into ruthless competitions of who stays under the blankets for the longest before developing the first clinical signs of hyperthermia.

the dim flames of the cheap candles playfully dancing as their sweet aroma of apple-cinnamon spreads throughout the entire apartment complex – it'd be the very definition of tacky if it wasn't for simon trying so hard – even preparing dinner, despite cooking being one of the activities he hasn't done in years, and burning his hand twice in the process.

showering together – because it saves water, of course.

the late-night chatters which followed; strangely enough, simon never makes any other environmentalist comments – what a bastard.

all the small pieces puzzled together into the safe and comfortable living space you two shared, and while he would never say it out loud – simon was utterly thankful for it. and for moments like these – when he had you pinned down on the couch, one hand pressed against your tummy as the other held your hips in place with his nasty mouth pressed flat against your cunt – he was thanking god. or whatever external divine force intervened with his dull life - where the wish to suffer was just a passive request of his subconscious mind – and brought you straight into his embrace. it all felt like a simple promise - a promise of something greater that life has to offer.

this was no rare occurrence – grabbing handfuls of his clothes, silently urging him to take them off, to allow your curious fingers to explore every inch of his body, ... all while he slowly leans back, as the gaze of his drowsy eyes pierces right through you – like a predator stalking his prey - watching your every movement, and studying each individual facial expression – he could sink his teeth into you and devour you whole at any given moment, but he choses not to. truth be told, he finds his own perverted pleasure in it – his body merely anything but a physical tool for you to experiment on - teasing him in all ways possible just to see which movement provokes which reaction in him – who would have guessed such a pure virgin would turn into such a filthy slut.

although, there was a specific thing you've been begging him to try out with you – deepthroating. it sounded fun and looked fairly easy too – seeming like a good time all around.

today, you've built up enough courage to take some of the control away from him – dropping down onto your knees, a hand stilled on each one of his thighs as your lips sank down on his dick,"you didn't- shit, darling" the adam's apple bobbed in his throat as his head fell back and he swallowed hard. "darling, hey- you don't have to" one hand rested on top of your head. "but i want to" he should've known by now - dumb comments get even dumber responses.

you hated admitting he was right – especially about things you've begged him for – but it was a bit too much.

your chin quivering as your throat spasmed around his cock each time he hit the soft palate at the back of your mouth? too much.

your knees burning as if you've been kneeling on fragments of shattered glass for the past ten minutes? too much.

your jaw growing sore as spit dripples down your chin onto your chest? too much.

the stifled moans cutting through his vocal cords up his throat, as the blackness of his blown-out irises consume the color of his eyes? too-fucking-much.

he noticed – warm fingertips crept behind your neck, traveling up to your hairline "hey now-". blood rushed to your face – tingling your cheeks and painting them a shy tone of red as your lips separated from him with a loud, wet pop.

the calloused pads of his fingers rubbed against your lower jaw, carefully easing the stiffness away right before his palm wrapped around your throat – constricting the airway just enough to get a giggle out of you – dipping his head down, he used the opportunity to slip his tongue past your lips, swallowing the musky taste which spread throughout his mouth.

"just like that, lean back-" releasing his grip on your throat, his hand dropped down to your chest - pushing you away slightly. "and touch yourself" breath cycled inside your lungs – into your mouth, out of your nose – faster and faster with each weary moment.

"you know how i like it" lust streaked through you – from your veins into your bones, swallowing your being entirely. you do know exactly how he likes it – two fingers spreading the swollen folds of your cunt as the third one circles on your clit – and just how much he likes it.

so you did it – leaning backward on your heels, your right hand slipped past your tummy down to your sex – fuck, embarrassment burned hot inside you, but you couldn't deny just how aroused the entire thing made you – wetness was practically dripping out of your aching cunt.

your eyes bore into his before your stare dropped down from his lips to his collarbones - now glistening with a thin layer of sweat - to his stomach – muscles tensing up – down to his lap – he looked massive even as his own hand gripped around his length.

a part of you wanted more – to just hop onto his lap, to soak right through the fabric of his pants as you straddled against him.

the other part, the greater part of you, was frozen in place – paralyzed as you watched his hand move up and down, and up – his thumb teasing the leaky, sensitive tip – and down – his hips thrusting back against his palm.

bliss started to blur your brain's function and soon only a single thought remained in that pretty little head of yours – as he'd call it – to cum, to cum hard, and to cum right fucking now.

"faster, little dove – sing for me" pure carnality.

#simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley smut #simon riley fluff #simon riley headcanons #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost smut #ghost x reader #ghost x you #ghost headcanons #ghost fluff #ghost mw2 #cod #cod mw22 #cod mw2 #ghost #cod ghost

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sellenite · 6 months

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Girl you're FEEDING the Choso simps with your cherry blossom series! I love it sm, and I was hoping you could do a fluffy normal!AU?

Maybe Choso can be a TA/Tutor for an upper division college class and Reader is a senior in undergrad. He can tutor her in office hours, they become friends, then eventually hang out once classes are over?

(I'll let you decide if there's NSFW in there ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°))

pairing: TA!Choso x fem!reader contents: fluff, no smut (but implied at end), Choso and reader are both a little shy/awkward word count: 2.9K notes: I thought this idea was so cute, and I had some fluffy ideas for college AU Choso and reader so I hope this is what you were looking for <3 SFW :)

Choso Kamo wasn’t exactly what you would call a “social butterfly.” He never had been much of a talker, even before the twins passed away. But as his undergraduate years floated past him, he had failed to make so much as a single lasting friendship—driven firstly by grief, and second by natural introversion.

When Eso and Kechizu died, Choso had just started his freshman year of college. It was a stupid accident; the two of them driving home from a late football practice—a practice he would have been there to pick them up from if he were home—when they got hit by a drunk driver. They were cruel and pointless deaths, and Choso had a difficult time accepting them.

He didn’t go home after that summer; there was nothing left for him there. His mother had long since forgotten about him, too busy with her new husband and her new family. But he supposed the one good thing his mother’s remarriage gave him was his half-brother, Yuji. Yuji was the only person Choso had left, and he called him almost every week between his graduate studies.

Choso was on a pre-medical track with a specialization in hematology—the subject just seemed to come naturally to him. He felt he owed it to Eso and Kechizu to do something with his life, to help people if he could. It had been hard work—and he had near-permanent circles under his eyes to show for it—but he found an odd comfort in suffocating his misery with never-ending lab assignments and exams. However, his solitary habits left little room for friendships to grow; Choso found most of his undergraduate—and now graduate—nights alone, either with a textbook in hand or on the phone with Yuji. He was envious of his half-brother in a way; making friends always came so naturally to him.

Choso had learned to adapt to his loneliness until he didn’t notice it anymore. So his professor was more than a little shocked when he saw Choso had applied for the teaching assistant position. To be fair, he surprised himself as well, but he was putting himself through college and some financial help was better than none at all. And that was exactly how he had wound up being your Clinical Hematology TA. The laboratory class was known for being difficult, but it was one of the last remaining requirements you needed for your biology degree.

Choso wasn’t the best teacher—you didn’t think anyone would argue against that—but it was obvious he knew his stuff. He never needed notes—let alone the skeletal slideshow projected onto the laboratory whiteboard—when the professor had him lead lectures or experiments, but he was so soft-spoken. The subject of hematology he knew as if it were his closest friend—in an admittedly lonely way—but public speaking was far from his area of expertise. You often found other students zoning out or easily drowning Choso’s voice out with their own quiet chatter.

You followed along the best you could though. Sometimes you found yourself a little confused when Choso’s already-quiet voice would grow more muted, as if he were speaking to himself rather than to an entire class. But you still found yourself listening to Choso diligently. He was charming, in a sad, quiet sort of way you thought. He had an aloofness about him that made him seem somewhat intimidating to you at first; he didn’t talk to anyone unless there was a question, and he didn’t linger for a moment longer after the professor dismissed him at the end of their lectures.

But you felt that was more to him than the cold front he seemed to put up, and every once in a while you could see cracks in his stoic mask. You could see it in the way he sometimes let out a long sigh when he wasn’t needed in class, his deep brown eyes gazing out the window, distantly. The way he always seemed to rub over the same silver ring he always wore on his right hand when he was presenting. The heavy circles under his eyes as if he hadn’t slept in months, half-heartedly covered by smudges of charcoal eyeliner.

Your simple observations began to turn into questions—How old was he? Did he go out on the weekends? Who did he hang out with? What kinds of movies did he like to watch? Did he have a girlfriend?—until (unintentionally) you realized you may have developed more than a small crush on your TA. But you had carried out most of the semester thus far without talking to him, so you doubted anything would change. He was your TA, you were his student; it was best to leave it at that, was it not?

Choso was the TA for your specific class, but there were other graduate students that the professor had to teach in his other time sessions. However (as with most of your other college classes), all TAs had office hours open to students no matter the section they were in. Choso had gotten used to his usually being empty. He didn’t mean to seem cold, or off-putting; it was just in his nature to be quiet. Yet, unfortunately, his modest tendencies led most students to seek help from some of the other, friendlier TAs.

Choso still made sure he was present during all of his office hours, though—it was kind of the job, anyway. But being as he spent most of them alone (sometimes the professor would be present as well), he had started using the time as a dedicated study hour. He found his way to the hematology laboratory and unlocked the door, preparing for yet another hour spent alone in the sterile room. At least there are windows, he thought to himself; he couldn’t remember the last time he had spent more than twenty minutes outside at one time.

But just as he was beginning to pull out his own work, he heard a soft knock at the laboratory door. His brows furrowed in confusion as he looked up, almost forgetting from how many sessions he had spent alone that students were supposed to be at these. You opened the door slowly, a little cautiously even, slightly poking your head in. And you couldn’t help the reflexive way in which your eyes slightly widened and a faint blush spread across your cheeks at the sight of Choso sitting alone at the front desk of the classroom.

“Oh! Hi, I’m Y/N… I’m in your Clinical Hematology class…” You started to introduce yourself, feeling more flustered than you had hoped or expected you would be now that you were talking to Choso one-on-one.

“I know,” Choso said back—maybe a little too quickly, he worried. “I mean, I’ve seen you before… You usually sit by the window, right?” He asked you, in that deep yet soft voice of his.

You mentally kicked yourself for the way you felt your heart fall into your stomach as a small smile formed on your lips. He knows me? You thought to yourself as you nodded back to him, stepping into the classroom a little more.

“Yeah, I do,” you smiled warmly at him, recovering some of your nervousness. You watched as Choso slid a notebook back into his backpack.

“Well… Is there anything I can help you with today?” He asked you politely, and you suddenly remembered the reason you had come to office hours in the first place. You felt your cheeks burn slightly and you hoped that Choso (somehow) wouldn’t notice. You nodded again as you swallowed a lump in your throat, sitting down in the chair opposite the teacher’s desk. You couldn’t help but notice how pretty (albeit tired) his eyes were up close, the brown of them so warm that they almost looked red when the light caught them right.

“It’s this upcoming lab report,” you started gently, trying not to get distracted by all of the beautiful details you never had the honor of seeing—the dark purple color on his nails, his long eyelashes, the way the right corner of his mouth tipped up ever-so-slightly as you sat down… You pulled your lab notebook from your backpack, placing it on the table between the two of you. “I have all of my data from the experiment, but the numbers just aren’t adding up…”

Your visit to Choso’s office hours confirmed two of your suspicions: not only was he intelligent, but he was also much kinder than many might assume at first glance. (And he was incredibly beautiful—with particularly nice hands—but there had never been a doubt in your mind if either of those things were true.) He had this gentle way of explaining things, checking in to make sure you understood before he moved on to anything else. It made you feel like he had done this a hundred times, even though you were confident that he didn’t have particularly busy office hours. You had—somewhat ashamedly—only been able to nod along as he explained where the calculations in your data had gone wrong, nervous that if you spoke your voice may waver and reveal that you were harboring a not-so-secretive crush on him.

And when the errors in your calculations revealed that you would need to rerun the experiment again, not only did Choso offer to help you get set up, but to be your stand-in lab partner, too.

Choso moved around the room with ease, gathering the blood samples and necessary equipment as if he did this every day—which in a way, you supposed he did. He guided you gently, explaining in his soft voice where you had gone wrong, helping you to learn from your mistakes. He was currently looking through a compound microscope at a red blood cell sample, adjusting the magnification to be at the correct level.

“And if you look here…” He began as he lifted his eyes away from the lens, sliding the microscope toward you. “You’ll see the irregularities in the shape of the cell membrane…” You began to lower your eyes to the microscope, moving to place your hand on the side of the base—without bothering to look—when you were met with warm, soft skin, instead of the cold plastic of the instrument. You quickly (although reluctantly) removed your hand from Choso’s with a small gasp.

“Oh, um, I’m so sorry!” You let out a nervous laugh, looking up at Choso bashfully. You gestured to the microscope a little awkwardly. “After you,” you finished as calmly as you could muster, only to wince at yourself when you remembered that Choso didn’t actually need the microscope anymore—he had just been passing it to you.

Choso shook his head and smiled at you as an emotion you had never seen on his stoic face flashed through his eyes; something akin to amusement, or—if you dared—maybe joy. “No, I insist,” he said with the gentlest trace of a smile gracing his lips. Your eyes lingered on each other’s for a moment longer than necessary before you gave a quick nod and a “Thank you,” before you turned back to look through the microscope. Choso cleared his throat as you bent down to rest your eyes against the lens.

“Um, as I was saying…” Although he would never admit it, he had only realized when your palm faintly rested on the back of his hand how long it had been since he had touched anyone, since anyone had touched him. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been hugged, let alone hold someone’s hand or kissed them. He was thankful you had been looking through the microscope after that because he could feel the heat in his cheeks reach a blistering height. He shook his head, clearing his thoughts of you and your touch from his mind the best he could as you straightened up from the lens.

You wrapped up the experiment fairly quickly after that, but the awkward yet sweet moment lingered in both of your minds throughout the rest of the meeting. You helped Choso clean up the lab, returning all of the equipment to their proper homes as you thanked him profusely for helping you. He only nodded, a sincere smile on his face as he assured you it was no issue at all. And before you left he called out to you:

“Don’t be a stranger,” a soft, sheepish smile on his face handsome face.

And a stranger you were not. You started going to Choso’s office hours once a week, under the pretense that you wanted to make sure you were prepared for the professor’s weekly exams. Choso never pointed out that you didn’t actually need his help, and he would “tutor” you for a couple of minutes before the conversation inevitably shifted onto more personal topics.

You found out that Choso had a younger half-brother named Yuji. That he didn’t go out most weekends because he kept himself busy with his studies. That his favorite food was tonkatsu ramen with extra pork, and he liked watching horror movies, something he and Yuji did together a lot. That he used to be afraid of the dark when he was a kid, but he never let it show because then his younger brothers would be scared too. The weeks passed and you grew closer to Choso, exchanging little bits of information about yourself until a genuine friendship had blossomed. He eventually told you about his younger brothers, the twins, Eso and Kechizu. How they passed right after Choso started college, and how their deaths had shaped him—in a sad sort of way—into the man he was now.

You had expressed your sympathy, of course, but there was also a quiet respect you held for Choso after hearing his story. He had seemed so calm, unshakable on the outside. To think he had been dealing with so much pain in secret, and for so many years… You didn’t know whether to cry or commend him for his strength. He had opened up to you more than once that day, also revealing how much he had retreated from the outside world after his brothers’ deaths. And how now, he was embarrassed to admit that he didn’t have very many friends.

“Well, I would argue that one is as good a place to start as any,” you assured him with a bright smile, and Choso’s heart swelled. After that day you invited him to hang out with you for the first time. It was just a few days after Halloween, so why not watch a horror movie together? Choso accepted with a boyish grin that spread slowly across his face, the widest smile you had ever seen grace his lips.

The first time you kissed Choso, you were both a little drunk. You had taken him to one of your friend’s parties, an early celebration to welcome in the approaching holiday season. You and Choso had retreated to the kitchen to take a shot together; your suggestion, as you were secretly looking for the liquid courage to finally make a move. But, ironically enough, Choso had the same thought in mind that night. So when you locked eyes underneath the mistletoe strung from your friend’s ceiling, there wasn’t a moment’s hesitation on either end as your lips met. The kiss tasted faintly of pine—that earthy flavor of gin—and tart cranberries, and your mouths were warm and soft against one another’s. The kiss wasn’t hungry, despite the alcohol—maybe a little sloppier than you normally would have kissed—but it didn’t lack any tenderness. The crushes you harbored for each other had flourished over the last few weeks, and the dreamlike satisfaction of tasting each other’s lips for the first time wasn’t something you wanted to rush.

Your first kiss quickly led to your first official date; a dinner celebration in honor of the completion of the semester for both of you. The first snow was just starting to fall as Choso ushered you onto the crowded subway car with him, exploring the city after your meal. Your cheeks were tinged pink from the cold as you huddled close together, chest-to-chest, giddy off of the feeling of your new relationship. Choso’s large palm found your smaller hands, holding your cold fingers to keep them warm as you strolled through the streets searching for hot chocolate. The snow collected on your lashes as it fell, and Choso stopped you more than a few times to brush gently his fingers across your cheek and tell you how pretty you looked. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt this way—if he had ever felt this way—about anyone.

“Like an angel,” he said softly, admiring the before he stole a sweet kiss from your smiling lips. The snow fell around you, softly illuminated by the streetlights as he pressed you to the side of a building lining the empty alleyway. You giggled between soft kisses and gentle touches over your winter coats, suddenly unaware of the chill of the air around you. The touches grew needier as your fingers laced into the soft strands of Choso’s hair, his strong body pressing you further against the wall as his hands slid ever so slightly underneath your coat. You broke the kiss to catch your breath, leaning back against the brick as you traced the deep scar that ran over the bridge of his nose—when you asked him he said he had gotten it when he was younger, too long ago to remember. You smiled up at him somewhat mischievously.

“You know what? I just remembered that I have hot chocolate at home…”

#jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk oneshot #choso kamo fluff #kamo choso fluff #choso fluff #choso kamo x reader #choso kamo x you #choso kamo x y/n #choso x reader #choso x you #choso x y/n #kamo choso x reader #kamo choso x you #kamo choso x y/n

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probablyhuntersmom · 1 year

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Belos trying the same tactic with both of the poor kids. But what a contrast between the towering monstrous form versus the puddle he was reduced to in the end.

He hurt Luz and Hunter enough. More than enough. He snatched literal life away from them. I'm relieved that both of them had proximity away from him at the time of his death:

with Hunter being safely far away, and Luz making a conscious decision to walk away from him, so that they didn't have to witness his demise. On top of what they both already had to heal from, witnessing him dying would've been...visceral on another level for their senses, and for the memories they'd be carrying for years afterward.

I wouldn't ever want these to be the last sights (and sounds!) of Belos that Luz and Hunter are exposed to:

Especially because they had a history of trusting in him first, before experiencing betrayal from him. This scene was freaky enough for an adult audience member like me to watch...I can't imagine being a child, who previously trusted in Belos, placed in this situation.

It was different for Eda, King and even Raine (who has been staging and leading the CATTs rebellion over a long period), who were the ones to finish him off, because they didn't have prior experiences of deeply trusting in Belos first.

Coming in from a clinical perspective as well, if you work as a therapist you have to note down and weigh two areas for every client case: risk factors vs. protective factors that can either worsen or improve whatever mental health conditions they're experiencing. Doing this gives a clearer picture and creates higher awareness of a client's situation and struggles.

I'm zooming in on just risk factors for PTSD symptoms (list is from the National Institute of Mental Health's page about PTSD):

I underlined the blue to show which risk factors that Luz and Hunter would already be up against without witnessing Belos's death: that's already 7 out of 8!! (keep in mind they saw stuff like the grimwalker graveyard in Belos's mindscape) And these poor babies already met enough criteria for diagnoses of depression and C-PTSD respectively. If they witnessed him dying, it would've been a "big T" trauma event that could do more great damage and complicate the recovery process.

The red underlines are if they witnessed Belos's death, adding more layers of wounding when it comes to the relevant risk factors. And what would intensify things is like I mentioned, their history with Belos in particular is downright messy since they experienced betrayal from him in such awful ways. You can't be betrayed by someone if you didn't first place trust in them. In Hunter's case, he had (and realistically, would still have) love and attachment to Belos.

It's heavy enough that both of them were mourning father figures that left them behind at the start of those 3.5-4 difficult years, and would experience depressive symptoms related to those losses:

Hunter mourning Belos himself and his life in the Emperor's Coven which brought meaning to his life, while Luz mourned Manny and her use of the glyphs that helped her find her place when there was nothing else that worked.

They would need Camila, Darius and Eda as their solid rock to fall back on for unwavering support, along with the love from everybody else.

If I rewind things a little, I'm also relieved that Hunter wasn't ambushed by Belos in For the Future, and that Luz didn't give into temptation to "blast him away" in Watching and Dreaming:

Their anger and frustration was most definitely valid, but I'm pretty sure that any decisions to follow through with their desire to strike back at Belos...would've added salt to their moral injuries and bred more painful confusion in the years that they'd have to spend recovering from all that they went through.

Keeping them away from being the ones to finish Belos off was an informed writing decision.

#luz noceda #toh hunter #toh belos #the owl house #toh analysis #belos's death #luz and hunter are siblings #loz writes a meta #trauma mention

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momentsofamber · 3 months

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so the other day my partner and I were talking about genetics ( science is his static SpIn ) and how the odds of their parents eyes in tcoaal would determine the kids' odds of having which color if their mother's green was a mutation ( based on how often their mom's shade changes between scenes, we decided it was like tcoaal hazel ) and if their father's pink was a dominant gene ( like brown irl ) and just looking at the odds data, it made me realize ... I kinda want to do multiple universes?

this is just some spitballing, but stay with me for a moment.

Role-Reversal: ( pink Andrew, green Ashley )

Andrew never outgrows the name Andy; his baby sister was the first person to call him that and that was that, that's his name forever.

Ashley goes by Lye as an adult; she went by Leyley as a child and Lye later became a nickname from it.

( rando: what's Lye short for? Lye: Leyley. rando: ... what? No, really. Lye: Reaaally ... Andy, nonchalantly: It's Ash-ley. Lye: -glaaare- Who cares what it used to be short for, it's just Lye now, okay? )

( Andy: 'Andy and Ashley' sounds so much better for a duo. You have to agree with me, right? Lye, flatly amused: ... You mean you don't like the sound of 'Andrew and Lye'? Andy, eyetwitch but pointedly ignoring that: So as I was saying -- )

These two will follow the canon story(ies) with everything as mirrored as it can be.

yandere twins: ( pink Andrew, pink Ashley )

not actually twins. but kind of.

they were born on the same day two years apart and share the same shade of pink eyes.

both have clinical bpd ( Andy w/ hpd traits, Leyley w/ aspd traits ) and thus suffer from and frequently demonstrate symptoms of obsessive and/or lovesick tendencies.

they've been sexually involved with each other since Andy hit puberty. of course Andy hits it first, being two years older, but they don't have intercourse until Leyley hits puberty too. Andy says their "real first time" 'won't be as special for Leyley if her body isn't ready for such a mature experience too'. it's torture for him to watch and wait for his sister to blossom, and Leyley repeatedly insists that 'no, she's ready NOW though!!' … but it does end up being well-worth the wait for both of them.

violence is flirting for these two.

'Do you know how badly I wanna kill you right now? Just so that I'll be the very last thing you'll ever see and feel.' is romantic.

they continue to use Andy and Leyley as names into adulthood no matter how often they get told it's childish or whatever.

kuudere twins: ( green Andrew, green Ashley )

same premise as above but the not-twins share green eyes. ( however, there is a high chance I will give them different shades due to their mother's eye color being a mutation. )

Andrew goes by Drew as an adult because he says Andy is 'too childish' now.

Ashley legally changes her name to Lillian as an adult so that she can go by Lily for short because it's close to Leyley and 'she doesn't feel like an Ashley and she never did'.

both Drew and Lily respect each other's name preferences and only use Andy and Leyley to refer to themselves or each other in the past.

their mother continues to call Lily 'Ashley' out of spite to the day that she dies because 'I named you, so that's what I'm calling you'.

these two are better at communicating their attachment and feelings for each other through things like physical touch and acts of service.

they both definitely have alexithymia.

they often don't quite know how to say things with words so they try to show things instead. ( sometimes they jokingly call their ability to communicate without words a twin bond. )

#the coffin of andy and leyley #tcoaal #tcoaal au ideas #gravescest #coffincest #proship safe #proshippers please interact #okay to reblog #ambers.txt

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jjsarchx · 2 months

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intro to herbert west: reanimated ;3

hiiii me and my bf (@m4xwell16) decided to make a queer retelling of HP lovecraft's herbert west-- reanimator short stories bc we hate H.P Lovecraft ❤️. we hope to produce it as an indie film thats 1-2 hours long. it's set in the early 2000s and takes place over the course of thirteen years, following similar beats to the original six chapters.

heres the two main characters and their cat, chai (chimera)

info after read more :-)

This is the main character, he is not allowed to have a name (he has one but you're not allowed to know it.) so we will refer to him as The Narrator.

he plays the same role as the assistant in the original. the story is told through flashbacks as he retells the events leading up to the disappearance of his "friend", Herbert West, and the subsequent burning of his home to his lawyer, Darla Mills. he was (and still pretends to be) a relatively normal guy, but he is not strong enough to turn down reanimating the dead when he is attracted to the man doing it.

here is the man himself. herbert west

most of the story the Narrator is telling relates back to him, as they are the two primary suspects. he met Narrator in college and quickly drew him into his experiments. hes the more upbeat of the two, but this doesn't translate into being well liked (or particularly moral).

and here is the first original char :) kind of.

her name is elyse moor! she stands in for sir major sir eric moreland clapham-lee.. she's just a regular person at first but gets caught in the crossfire and reanimated, and now she's seeking revenge on the man that essentially ruined her life. her hobbies include baking, starting undead armies, and being a clinical psychologist! she's narrator's (ex) wife as of... like, three months ago

The other characters don't have finalized sheets yet, but some important ones include Darla Mills, Dean Halsey, some of the Narrator's friends, etc. :)

if you're interested in this story and want to know more abt it/keep updated, follow my instagram (same user) as im more active over there !!! :D

#herbert west #hp lovecraft #lovecraft #lovecraftian horror #herbert west reanimator #oc #indie film #original characters #spreading my queer agenda 1 hp lovecraft story at a time #i hope you like them :)

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wulfhalls · 3 months

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https://x.com/anyafolders/status/1755382794459464091?s=20

WAKE UP BESTIE

THIS IS NOT A DRILL ‼️ ANYA IS RUMORED FOR DUNE PART TWO. THIS IS NOT A FUCKING DRILL ‼️ ANYA IS RUMORED FOR OLDER ALIA.

the streets are saying anya taylor joy has a cameo in dune part 2. allegedly she's playing alia.

Anya in Dune part 2??

did you hear the rumor about anya taylor joy having a cameo in the dune? what is going on

sorry guys I had to contemplate the sheer scale of the winnery potentially happening here. following a prolonged out of body experience I was clinically dead for up the 2 hours when the true depth of it hit me. I'm back now. the universe saw me losing in ways incomprehensible to a normal person for years and said. enough. you're getting everything uve ever wanted this time round. my big powerful brain has done it again. I made this edit in 2020.

#asks #dune #alia atreides #anya taylor joy #everyone running to my askbox 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰 genuinely kissing u all on the mouth fr

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scary-grace · 26 days

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Enough to Go By (Chapter 4) - a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

Your best friend vanished on the same night his family was murdered, and even though the world forgot about him, you never did. When a chance encounter brings you back into contact with Shimura Tenko, you'll do anything to make sure you don't lose him again. Keep his secrets? Sure. Aid the League of Villains? Of course. Sacrifice everything? You would - but as the battle between the League of Villains and hero society unfolds, it becomes clear that everything is far more than you or anyone else imagined it would be. (cross-posted to Ao3)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5

Chapter 4

You think about Tenko more now, but you’re allowed to – he’s your patient, and if he was your patient at the clinic, you’d expect to see him for a follow-up on the four gunshot wounds you cleaned and dressed. You’re allowed to think about him, so you think about him. You think about him a lot.

The thoughts take two directions. One is just wondering about him – how he’s feeling, how he spends his days, what he’s thinking about, what he thinks of you, whether he’s thought about you at all. The other is thinking about the situation he’s in. His parents and grandparents and his sister are dead. He’s been missing for fifteen years. He’s got a quirk and he’s a villain, ambitious and strategic enough to target UA High and escape alive, albeit badly injured. His guardian is a cloud of mist in a suit with some kind of split personality. And there’s someone else in his world – two someone elses. The doctor he referenced, who wouldn’t help him, and the one he calls Sensei, who gave him his new name and a hand to wear over his face and set him up to fail.

You think about Tenko a lot, but you can’t think about him all the time, because now that you’re a nurse, you’re twice as busy as you were before. The doctors expect more of you, and so do the other nurses – and so do the MAs and CNAs and high school students who are starting their apprenticeships, since you now have three years’ experience to go with your reputation for smoothing things over with difficult patients. Your friends keep you busy, too. They might call Kazuo to find out if something’s wrong with them, but they call you to find out what to do about it.

“You need to get a scan,” you say to Yoshimi for probably the fifth time. “I know you don’t want to –”

“It’s weird!”

“Not any weirder than whatever Yoji does when the two of you are at second base,” you say, and in the background of the call, someone snickers. If you had to guess, you’d say it’s Mitsuko – she has the guts to bully Yoshimi into making the call, combined with the brass balls to feel comfortable eavesdropping. “It’s called a mammogram. You’d have to start getting them at some point anyway, just like we all do. It’s just to make sure there’s nothing weird going on.”

“Stop it. You’re freaking her out for no reason.” Yoji’s there, too. “It’s probably just an STD.”

You’re stunned into silence for a second by the sheer classlessness of saying that about one’s own girlfriend, but you bounce back fast. “First of all, they’re called STIs, genius. Secondly, there’s not an STI on the planet that gives you nipple discharge. Yoshimi, get the scan. I’ll go with you if you want. Just get it done.”

“Can I do it at your clinic?”

“Uh –” You glance at the Imaging queue. Things look quiet, but you can’t count on that to last – but if you report Yoshimi’s symptoms, which include soreness, nipple discharge, and what she describes as a weird rash, you’re pretty sure the doctor on call will bump her to the head of the line. “Yeah, come in now. I can’t stick around after my shift, though. I have stuff to do tonight.”

“Ooh, stuff. Let me see –” There’s some rustling, which you can only assume is Mitsuko grabbing the phone. “Is stuff tall, dark, handsome, way too serious, and currently working as a sidekick?”

“That would be stuff,” you admit. “It’s not a big deal. We’re just grabbing a drink after our shifts.”

For the first time since you and Kazuo broke up, you have a date, and it’s Kazuo’s fault. Or maybe it’s you and your friends’ fault, because you decided to throw Kazuo a twentieth birthday party and invited a few of his friends from UA. One of those friends is Sugimura Hiroki, who fits perfectly with your type of dark-haired boys who want to be heroes and who’s so painfully shy that it took him six beers and the entire party to talk to you. You were sort of weirded out by that. You’re not very intimidating, and you spent the first half of the conversation trying to figure out if he knew you were quirkless, since you learned the hard way that it’s something you need to disclose up front. But the two of you eventually worked your way around to the point, which was that Sugimura wants to get to know you better, and he tripped over his tongue so badly that you finally just asked him out to end the suspense.

It’s taken you a while to actually schedule the date, but tonight’s the night, and you’re sort of anxious about it. Luckily, work is busy enough to keep you distracted. Your lunch break ends while Mitsuko is still going into increasingly nasty speculations about Sugimura’s physical attributes, and you hang up the phone without saying goodbye.

There’s a message waiting for you on your computer, from the front desk. FOF. Can you take him?

It’s not Tenko. You know Tenko wouldn’t come here again. You send the same message you did when it was him. How F are we talking?

Jumpy, talking to himself, chainsmoking. He’s in costume.

“In costume” could literally mean that the patient’s wearing a costume, but it’s also code for when the front desk thinks the patient’s a villain. You’re used to dealing with villains by now. Send him back.

When the knock on the door comes, you’re ready and waiting, and the CNA ushers in a tall man in a black-and-grey bodysuit – so “in costume” was literal this time around – and a paper bag over his head. You’re momentarily transfixed by the paper bag, and more so when you realize that he’s bringing a lighted cigarette to his mouth while wearing something highly flammable on his face. The CNA shuts the door and bolts. You face your patient and introduce yourself. “Have a seat if you feel comfortable doing so. What brings you in today?”

“I’m not – whole.”

That’s concerning. “Are you injured?” Your concern grows when he gestures at his face. “It would really help if I could see the injury. Can you take the bag off?”

He shakes his head. Instead he reaches into his pocket and produces a torn full-face mask. You look at him, then at him, putting the pieces together. “How do you feel right now?”

He doesn’t answer – maybe can’t answer – so you default to the face chart you use when little kids aren’t able to express how they feel in words. Your patient points to scared, stressed, anxious, angry. Then he throws in happy, possibly to mess with you, or to distract you from the fact that the first four emotions indicate that he’s ready to snap at any second. “How about this?” you ask, after thinking it over. “I can ask the doctor to give you something that will help you calm down –”

“Please!” The patient bursts out. Drug-seeking? “No, I don’t need it, sister! I’m so calm it’s hard to believe.”

“Okay, then we’ll just have it here in case you decide you want it. As an option,” you say, keeping your voice smooth and calm. “Either way, this is a quiet place to wait. You’re safe in here with me. And if you want, I can sew up your mask for you. Would that help?”

“You can do that?”

“Easily,” you say. “Can I see it for a second? I need to make sure I grab the right thread.”

The patient hands the mask over, which is a good sign. You’ve established at least a little bit of trust. You examine the mask and decide that you’ll need the thinnest-gauge needle and thread you have. “I can definitely fix this,” you tell the patient. “It might look a little rough, but it’ll cover you up like it did before. And it should last until you get where you’re going.”

The patient nods. You stand up. “I’m going to get some supplies, and a little anxiety medication if you decide you want it. I’ll be right back, okay? Just wait here.”

The patient nods again. Given how labile his mood is, you need to be fast about this, and get back before he gets upset or decides to leave. You step out the door and shut it behind you, heading for the supply closet, but you’re waylaid on the way there by one of the doctors. “We need you up front. Now.”

“I can’t. I have a patient, and he’s –”

“I don’t care. We’ve got a hero coming to visit, and we need somebody to keep things calm,” the doctor says. Shit. “Figure out what they want, get them as little of it as you can get away with, and get them out of here.”

“Which hero?”

The doctor shakes his head. Great. “Just hurry.”

You can’t go just yet. “My patient’s got a lot of anxiety and he’s in costume. I need him to stay calm. Can you –”

“2mg diazepam. I’ll put it in the chart.” The doctor unlocks one of the medicine cabinets, extracts a prefilled dosage cup, and hands it to you. “Go.”

Diazepam is long-acting. Hopefully long-acting enough to keep your patient quiet while you get rid of the hero. You skitter back down the hall with the dosage cup and hand it over to the patient, along with a tiny bottle of water to wash it down. “I’ll be right back. Just finding the right thread.”

The patient downs the pill dry, which is both good and bad for you. You shut the door again and head for the lobby. You don’t make it there. A cloud of black mist boils up around you, swallowing you whole.

By the time your feet hit the familiar wooden floor of the bar, you’re already out of patience. “No. Send me back right now.”

“Shigaraki Tomura has need of you. You will assist him.”

“Not right now I won’t. You snatched me from work,” you say. You’re facing the wall and the All Might poster again, and you don’t want to turn around. If you see Tenko, it’ll make it harder to say no. “If I go missing, people will notice. Is he dying?”

“No,” Kurogiri says.

“Is he in imminent danger of dying?”

“No.”

“Then send me back,” you say. If Tenko’s asked Kurogiri to get you, it means he needs medical assistance – or follow-up. You’ve needed to follow up anyway. “I can come back later.”

“No, I need you right now!”

“How much later?” Kurogiri asks, ignoring Tenko’s protest.

You think it over. You can dispense with the hero situation quickly, stitch your patient’s mask, and sneak out of work early. They’ll have to give you the emergency time off. You’ve never asked before in three years of working there. “Ninety minutes.”

“That’s too long. Kurogiri, don’t let her leave!”

“Ninety minutes. I’ll be in the alley behind the clinic.” You ignore Tenko, too, in favor of focusing on Kurogiri. He’s the one who decides if you leave or not. “All right?”

The mist wells up around you again, which counts as a yes. You land on your feet in the hallway, reorient yourself, and head for the lobby again. Tenko wants you again – needs you, your stupid brain corrects – but he’s going to have to wait for you to sort this out.

The hero in the lobby is Uwabami, the Snake Hero, and she’s got two sidekicks with her. No, students. You recognize one of them from your limited viewing of the UA Sports Festival and feel a spike of guilt run through you. She’s from Class 1-A. The same class Tenko tried to kill.

You don’t need to think about that, and you don’t need to feel guilty, because you didn’t do anything to her. You force yourself to focus. Uwabami wouldn’t have brought high school students here if she was doing any kind of investigating, which means your patient and any others who might be nervous around law enforcement are probably safe. The question of why she’s here still remains. You step forward. “Welcome to Yokohama Free Clinic South. What can we help you with today?”

“We’re on patrol,” Uwabami says. “My interns gave some feedback that our patrol involved a little too much publicity –”

The students look unrepentant. Good for them. “So we’re engaging in some down-to-earth patrolling,” Uwabami continues. “Tell us about how heroes support your clinic.”

Heroes don’t support your clinic. Most heroes strongly dislike the free clinic network, and the feeling is mutual, for a bunch of reasons you’re more than willing to articulate. Then you think better of it. Picking a fight with a hero in front of hero students is a bad move if you want to get out of here any time soon, and if you’re going to keep helping Tenko, you need to stay completely off the heroic radar. You focus on the students instead. “You’re on internships, right? They’re supposed to show you what life will be like as a hero.”

“Yes,” the girl who’s not from 1-A says. “They’re supposed to.”

“We have a program like that here, too,” you say. You gesture for them to come forward, and they desert their supervising hero at high speed. “A lot of our nurses and techs started working here in high school. Let me introduce you.”

You’re on much more solid ground talking about this. This clinic and this program saved your ass – without their sponsorship, you’d never have been able to get around your quirklessness as a barrier to nursing school, and you started getting on-the-job clinical training while most other nursing students were stuck in the classroom. You catch yourself evangelizing a little bit, but you don’t think it’s the worst thing in the world to do. You’re proud of the work you do as part of the clinic. It’s nice to get to talk about it.

You clear the hero students out in half an hour, hoping you’ve impressed them even a little bit, then hurry back to your patient. The diazepam’s kicked in nicely, and he chatters away to you while you stitch the tear in his mask. You learn that his name is Jin, or Bubaigawara, or Twice, which you’d guess are his first name, his family name, and his villain name, in that order. He doesn’t say how his mask got torn and you don’t ask, but you send him on his way in a better mood than before. “Thanks, sister,” he says on his way out the door. “You could be worse. You’re a saint!”

Different tone, different pitch, completely different meaning between the first sentence and the second. It reminds you of Kurogiri. You know enough villains now that you can compare them to one another. You shake your head, bemused, then head back inside. Time to guilt-trip your boss into letting you leave two hours early.

Your guilt-trip is successful, mostly because of how you handled the hero situation, but as you’re trying to sneak out, Yoshimi arrives for her scan. After you cajoled her into the office, you can’t abandon her to some random tech. You do abandon Mitsuko in the waiting room, though – she says the words “nipple discharge” as loudly as possible, then starts picking on the scant amount of makeup you did for your date. You don’t feel bad at all for leaving her behind.

Yoshimi’s scan goes quickly, and just like you feared, it nets her a follow-up appointment at the main branch of the free clinic tomorrow. Tomorrow’s your day off. You promise her you’ll go with her – you, and not Mitsuko or Yoji – then talk the doctor into sending her home with a dose of a different anti-anxiety medication than the one you got for Twice. Then you check your phone for the time. Almost ninety minutes exactly. You race out to the alley.

The mist engulfs you almost the instant you set foot in the alley, and you’re in the bar a moment later, facing Kurogiri. Tenko’s nowhere to be found, and before you can ask the question, Kurogiri turns and sets off through a doorway, deeper into the recesses of the building. You follow him, wondering if this counts as being taken to a secondary location. Or maybe the bar counts as the secondary location, even though you’ve been here before. Either way, you’ve listened to way too many of Mitsuru’s true-crime podcasts.

Kurogiri leads you into an absolutely filthy room. The floor is covered – empty wrappers, empty cans, old newspapers and magazines, plastic cases for game disks and chips. You have a bad feeling about who lives here, and when Kurogiri clears his throat and speaks up, you’re proven right. “Shigaraki Tomura. I have brought the girl.”

The only semi-organized spot in the room is a desk with two monitors on it, a keyboard in front of it, and Tenko slumped down with his head pillowed on one arm. He looks up, and for a split second, you can see that he’s happy even behind the hand. Then his face turns bright red and his expression twists into a snarl. “I told you not to bring her in here! Get out!”

You don’t need to be told twice. You duck out the door and retreat about twenty feet down the hallway, listening as Kurogiri tries to placate Tenko. “You asked for her to be brought to you immediately, not for me to summon you when she arrived. I followed your orders to the letter.”

“I didn’t want –” Tenko breaks off, swears. Then he mumbles something, and Kurogiri chuckles. “Don’t laugh at me!”

You check your phone. You aren’t supposed to meet Sugimura until eight, but you’ve got no idea how long this particular encounter is going to run. You might need to tell him you’re running late. You’ve just sent the text and tucked your phone away when Kurogiri reappears. “We will return to the bar,” he says. “Shigaraki Tomura awaits you there.”

So Kurogiri warped him to the bar. You wonder what that was all about. Was Tenko embarrassed that you saw how filthy his room was, or just embarrassed that you saw his room at all? Or did he change his mind about wanting you here? The last thought upsets you. You follow Kurogiri back into the bar and find Tenko sitting at the counter. It’s an improvement from the last time you saw him, when he was sprawled out and bleeding from four gunshot wounds, but this time he’s got his arms crossed, clearly pissed about something. His face is still red behind the hand. There’s a bloodstained bandage taped to his right shoulder.

A pile of supplies appears on the bar as you come closer. “What happened this time?”

“It wouldn’t stop bleeding.” Tenko uncrosses his left arm to gesture at the wound. “This is the fourth one I’ve used.”

If he’s gone through four bandages, it must be pretty deep. “How long ago did it happen?”

“Two hours,” Kurogiri says. “Shigaraki Tomura sent me to retrieve you immediately.”

“Can you fix it or not?” Tenko snaps.

“I need to see it first,” you say. You come a few steps closer, sit down facing Tenko on the barstool next to his, and reach for the bandage. He doesn’t stop you from unwrapping it, and you detour to glove up before you start peeling the fabric of his shirt back from the wound. It’s oozing blood rapidly. It’s jagged at the edges, and deep – if you suctioned the blood away, you’d be looking at exposed muscle, and you’re so horrified by the fact that Tenko’s been badly hurt again that you ask a question you shouldn’t. “How did this happen?”

“Hero Killer,” Tenko says, and your stomach lurches. “I thought he might be useful, but he’s just like the rest of them. Obsessed with the precious Symbol of Peace.”

You don’t know very much about the Hero Killer, except that he kills or cripples heroes and he’s not in Yokohama any longer. Tenko’s still ranting. “Why can’t anybody shut up about All Might? Don’t they know –”

“That he’s not gonna fuck them?” you interrupt, and Tenko nearly chokes. “I guess they can dream.”

Tenko’s expression is contorting behind the hand. You’re pretty sure it’s not the result of your explorations of the wound, because you’re not touching it. You watch, concerned, as his shoulders shake and his mouth twitches, until awkward, rusty laughter finally issues from his mouth.

You always try to make people laugh. You’ve been in the habit since you were little. It’s an effective strategy for defusing tension, whether the joke is funny or not, and your jokes are usually at least kind of funny. But you always liked making Tenko laugh when you were kids. You were always just a little prouder of that than you were with other people. Tenko made people smile all the time. He deserved for somebody to make him laugh, too.

Tenko’s laughter is brief and uneven, because he’s trying to get it under control. “Stop it,” he finally snaps at you. His mouth is still twitching. “It’s serious.”

“Right,” you agree. But you can’t resist another joke. “It would be a novel strategy. If you can’t beat the Symbol of Peace, make him unfuckable instead.”

“I can beat him,” Tenko says, but his voice is strained to the point of snapping, and his shoulders are shaking again. “Can you fix my arm or not?”

“I can fix it,” you say, “but I’ll need a suture kit. And I’ll either need to cut your sleeve or you’ll need to take your shirt off.”

“I’m not taking my shirt off.” Tenko’s face is red again. “It’s ruined anyway. Just cut it.”

You cut his sleeve open from the neckline and peel it back, then go looking through the medical supplies. Kurogiri took your advice about additions to their supplies, and nothing turned up missing at work, which means they honored your request to steal from someone else. You’ve got local anesthetic this time, which is good, because you need it. You start numbing the edges of the wound, asking every so often if Tenko can feel what you’re doing. When he stops saying yes, you open the suture kit.

It’s a bit weird, but putting stitches in is one of your favorite parts of the job. You can get in the zone with it, even when the patient wants to talk. Tenko wants to talk. “People talk about the League of Villains out there. Don’t they?” he asks. You nod. “What do they say?”

“Um –” You’re not sure this is an answer Tenko wants to hear. “They’re wondering why the attack on UA happened.”

“What do you mean, why?”

“Like, if there was a message behind it,” you elaborate. You need to be careful, with the stitches and with this line of thought. “More than just killing All Might, because lots of villains want to do that. If there was a message, it didn’t get out. The police and UA haven’t shared much information – not even how the breach happened in the first place.”

Tenko scoffs. “They don’t have a clue. They won’t see it coming the next time we hit them, either.”

He’s planning something else. Your blood runs cold, and for a moment you’re torn about whether or not to ask. Tenko makes the decision for you. “What else do they say about the League?”

“Not very much, otherwise,” you say, and Tenko swears. “There are a lot of villains, just like there are a lot of heroes. People talk about the ones they see the most of.”

“Which heroes do you talk about?”

“I don’t really talk about heroes.” You tie off a stitch, trim the thread to the appropriate length, and take another. “One of my friends has this nasty crush on Endeavor, so we talk about him sometimes, but otherwise – no.”

“Your friend has a crush on Endeavor,” Tenko repeats.

“Like I said. Nasty.”

You’re conscious of Tenko staring at you, and you will your face not to heat up under his gaze. You don’t even know why he’s staring, and you’ve got stitches to do, so it doesn’t matter. Your phone buzzes in your pocket – probably Sugimura, probably confirming your date. A date you’re not sure you want to go on anymore. Did you ever really want to go on it? Or did you just say yes because –

“You look weird.”

You look up from the stitches, startled. “Huh?”

“You look weird,” Tenko repeats. “Your clothes are different and you’ve got stuff on your face.”

Tenko and Mitsuko feel the same about your makeup skills, apparently. “Sorry.”

“Why do you look like that?” Tenko presses. You tie off his next stitch. “Are you going on a date or something?”

You answer without thinking about whether it’s the smart thing to do. “Yes.”

It’s quiet for a long stretch of seconds. “Go on your date, then,” Tenko says. His voice is flat. “I don’t need you.”

It stings. You don’t want it to, but it does, and you look down at the cut on his shoulder so he won’t see it on your face. “You still need a few more stitches. At least let me finish them.”

“No. Get out.” Tenko jerks out of your grip. You barely have enough time to cut the hanging thread on your last stitch. “I don’t want you here. Kurogiri –”

“Shigaraki Tomura, I’m not sure that’s wise.”

“I didn’t ask you!” Tenko swats at you open-handed and you leap backwards. “Get out! I don’t –”

You don’t hear the end of that sentence. Kurogiri warps you away too fast, and possibly saves your life. He drops you back in the alley behind the clinic, holding half a suture kit and still wearing bloodstained gloves. You peel them off and dump them into the garbage, furious with yourself. You shouldn’t have said that. You shouldn’t have talked about your life at all, and above all else, you should have remembered that you were talking to a villain, not your best friend – that whatever’s left of your best friend isn’t enough. He’s angry with you, and he’s been having you followed. Just how angry is he? Angry enough to hurt you? Or angry enough to never talk to you again?

You’re sickened and more than a little scared to realize that you’re more frightened of the latter possibility than the former. It’s entirely possible that you’ve never been in less of a mood to go on a date.

But you do go on the date, because you said you would, and it’s – fine. There’s nothing to complain about, but there’s nothing to be excited about, either. You and Sugimura hug to say goodbye, and you promise to text each other about setting up another one, and then you walk home. Mitsuko texts you, wanting details, or DETAILS, but you’ve got nothing to share. It was just a date, and no matter how many times you try to tell yourself otherwise, you’re angry about it.

Not because of Sugimura asking you out, not because you agreed, not because you went. Because you told Tenko and gave him a reason to get rid of you. Why does this keep happening? Why do you keep finding him and losing him, over and over again? What is it going to take for you to hold on?

“So how was the date?”

The voice emanates from the alleyway on your right and you nearly jump out of your skin. Tenko’s there, hand down from over his face, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. He hasn’t changed his shirt. “I didn’t think heroes were your type.”

“They aren’t.”

“Then why were you on a date with one?”

“He asked.”

“And you just go with whoever asks?” Tenko looks half-incredulous, half-disgusted. You shake your head. “Forget it. Come with me.”

You shake your head again and take a step back – away from the alley, closer to the street. Tenko looks frustrated. “Come with me,” he repeats.

“What, so you can kill me?” You take another step back, well into the glow of a streetlight. You see shock flicker across Tenko’s face. “I don’t have a death wish.”

“Well, I don’t want to kill you,” Tenko fires back. He looks surprised at himself for saying it, but only for a moment – then he repeats himself, with more conviction. “I don’t want to kill you. You’re supposed to be my sidekick.”

Your jaw drops. “You remember?”

“I don’t remember everything.” Tenko takes the hand called Father out of the back pocket of his pants and studies it for a moment. Then he puts it away. “I remember that.”

Some kids played a different game every day. You and Tenko always played the same one, with a rotating cast of classmates at your side. All the heroes in the world were working together to fight one big villain, the worst villain the world had ever seen, and Tenko could never decide which hero he liked best, so he played a different one every day. But no matter which hero he played, no matter who else was playing with the two of you, you were always his sidekick. You reminded him every day that you didn’t have a quirk, and he always said the same thing in response, no matter which hero he was pretending to be that day, even though he didn’t have a quirk, either: You don’t need a quirk to be on my side. My quirk’s enough for both of us.

“Come on,” Tenko says again. He holds out his hand, three fingers and his thumb folded down, his pinky finger extended towards you. “Are you coming or what?”

You’ve never seen the world in black and white, but some things are unmistakable: There’s a line here, not visible to others but clear as day to you. On one side of it is Tenko and the darkness that’s swallowed him, the evil that surrounds him, the terrible things he’s done and is planning to do. On the other side is everything else – your dreams, your friends, your family that’s always loved you but used you anyway, a world that’s punished you time and time again for being born without a quirk, the knowledge that the world is so much crueler to so many others. You don’t think Tenko’s planning to kidnap you, to never let you leave. You’ll come back here, physically. You’ll go home and go to sleep and wake up early on your day off to take Yoshimi to her appointment at the main clinic, but you know instinctively that if you cross this line within yourself, there’s no coming back. Tenko was your best friend when you were five years old. Is he worth it?

You hate yourself for asking the question. You leave the light behind and link your finger with Tenko’s. “Where are we going?”

The black mist rises and wells up around you both. “You’ll see,” Tenko says, and for the first time since you found him again, he smiles.

#shigaraki tomura x reader #tomura shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x you #x reader #reader insert #shigaraki tomura #please hold

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softagenda · 7 months

Text

until my bones crack and become dust (vere)

vere x reader(f)

canon divergence - new meeting, mates, senobium captured mc

originally posted on ao3

masterlist

Preview

“Begin the experiment. Present the mate candidate.”

“Specimen 394. Recent traveler to Eridia. Arrived two days ago, requested assistance from the curse breaker division.”

_______________________________________________

“Come, Vere.”

Hilda unhooked the back of his collar with a quick twist of wrist. With a languid stretch, Vere straightened from his lean against the wall and brushed the back of his clothes. The pressure of the seal eased on his body, allowing just enough slack on the chains to breathe a little easier. He followed after her, already bored at the prospect of another hunt. “Lowtown today?”

“In the afternoon, perhaps. It’s the first Thursday.”

It took a moment for him to remember the significance of that. “Oh, right. That.” Vere yawned as she led the way down three more hallways, then a locked door in the heart of the tower. Once inside, they descended a hundred steps before arriving at the cold dungeon.

He squinted in the painfully bright lights and clinical white walls, his tail tucked and still against his back. Never liked the place. He’d spent several decades there before as the mages experimented and dissected various parts of his body. Nowadays, after those fruitless years, they only ever brought him down to monitor his health and the seal’s impact on his organs.

And the first Thursday of each month.

Hilda nodded at several mages as they passed, before pausing at a door in the middle of the hall. She drew a six pointed star across the front, her finger tracing a prismatic glow, then opened the door. “I’ll be back in an hour. Don’t cause trouble.”

Vere rolled his eyes and sauntered inside.

The room was small, lined wall to floor in simple stone, and devoid of all furniture except a single chair in the middle of the room. The wall on the right looked into a second examination room through a sheet of warded glass. On the other side stood a single, steel table with iron cuffs at the side and foot.

A mage entered after him and stood by the window, facing him, her clipboard balanced on her hip and taking notes with a quill.

“Would it kill you to put a decent chair in here? A footstool, at least.” With a huff, Vere sat in the wooden chair and crossed his legs. His chin propped on his knuckles, he settled in for the brief show and the nap that would undoubtedly interrupt it.

Within minutes, the door in the other room opened and three people shuffled in.

Two Senobium mages in pristine white uniforms dragged a prisoner onto the steel table. The woman swayed, her knees buckling, unable to stand. Drugged. Still, she resisted more than most of them did, her hands - bandaged, oddly enough - swiping sluggishly at their faces before they’d snapped them in the cuffs.

Her hair spilled over the table’s surface, shining beneath the offensively bright mage lights. The prisoner twisted in the bonds, her eyes swiveling around the room, hazy and confused. She had a pretty face beneath the gag in her mouth: thick lashes, full lips, soft skin. The thin, prisoner’s gown left little to the imagination, her soft curves and lithe muscle bunching as she writhed.

He felt the barest twinge of pity for her, knowing what was to come and the pointless cruelty of it.

Vere watched, his face a mask of indifference beneath the mage’s scrutiny. He met her gaze before glancing behind him with a scowl. “Must we continue this?”

“Yes.”

“The outcome will not change. Hasn’t the hypocrisy made a dent in that sanctimonious superiority yet?”

Her face turned stony. She ignored his question, her hawkish gaze on his face.

“You could at least provide refreshments for this. How am I meant to enjoy the show without wine or fruits?” Vere purred, shifting his finger to hold his temple. He withheld a smirk at her pinched expression.

“Begin the experiment. Present the mate candidate.”

“Specimen 394. Recent traveler to Eridia. Arrived two days ago, requested assistance from the curse breaker division.”

That peaked his interest. Vere looked back, his eyes narrowing on the woman before settling on the bandages. Hmm. His senses were somewhat muffled by the stone and glass separating them, but he took a long, quiet breath, scenting the air.

Leather and dust. A dash of something metallic, steel or blood, he couldn’t distinguish. A sharp, smokey smell - the scent left by a lightning strike. Inhuman. Ancient magic . And something… sweet.

Flowery and ripe, tangy. A fresh peach.

His hindbrain awoke in a sudden, disorientating flash of clarity.

Vere blinked, his body held perfectly still. His heart, normally responsive only to the prospect of a good hunt and a fresh meal, picked up in his chest. This human’s smell. There was something - different about it.

He huffed and forced his body to relax, his tail wrapping around the back of the chair. A yawn earned him a flat look from his guard, even as his mind shuffled through rapid fire explanations and suspicions.

Vere took another long, deep breath. His senses latched on to that fruity after taste, saliva pooling in his mouth. Was it the magic, or the evident suffering that had deeply scarred the woman’s soul? Both could affect the taste of the flesh and spirit, but he’d never encountered one so… sweet.

In the other room, one mage withdrew a knife from his coat pocket.

She sensed it immediately, her eyes narrowing on the blade. Her hands balled into fists, pushing against the steel cuffs to no avail. Cursed . He looked over the bandages, wishing he could smell her better. That would tell him exactly where the odor of ancient magic exuded from. In the cramped space, the odors and scents of all three people grew trapped, fogging up the air.

Still, having been kidnapped off the street and tossed in that frock, it was unlikely they’d keep the bandages on her if they weren’t necessary in some capacity.

“Initiating round one: minor lacerations.”

Her eyes sharpened on him, the knife, and then the ceiling. She seemed to brace herself, her jaw clenching.

His fox stirred inside, roused by the scent of her fear.

Her body flinched at the first practiced cut to her bicep. Metallic and cloying, blood perfumed into the air.

Vere let his right hand fall to the side of the arm’s chair, his claws biting into the wood, posed carefully out of sight from the mage. An irrational irritation welled up inside him - rather than entice him, the scent of her blood and fear threatened to raise his hackles.

What the fuck was happening to him?

The mage cut another line, then another three, until five neat rows of trickling blood dripped down her arm. The scent of blood was now thick in the air, melding with her fear and pain and resignation. He could even smell the odor drifting off of the mages inside as one grew aroused at the sight of her flinching, her body’s muted writhing, her bruised lip as she bit down on the gag to keep any noise from escaping.

Fur brushed against the back of his arms and waist as his tail swished in agitation. As though every cut represented an insult to him, his irritation had quickly bottlenecked into a fury he had never felt before - certainly not for a stranger.

It was growing increasingly difficult to pretend he was not affected by the scene, and the realization stunned and horrified him.

The fuck did he care if they tortured this woman - one of nearly four hundred score, brought in once a month to be cut and violated in a useless attempt to get a rise out of him?

It had never worked. At first he had enjoyed the sessions, feeding off the grief and suffering like a mid-morning snack. Somewhere before one hundred, he’d grown bored with the affair.

He’d never felt like this. Not even close.

The mage was making notes on her clipboard, her head tilted curiously.

“Initiating round two: physical touch.”

A distant rush of sound echoed through his ears. Vere gripped the side of the chair, his claws cutting through the wood like butter, as the mage stinking of arousal set the knife on the table and hovered a hand over the prisoner.

“Due to level 5 contamination in the hands and forearms, this stage will begin with upper torso.”

Definitely cursed, and a nasty one at that.

He wanted to ponder that longer, perhaps even fantasize over what this curse might do to the disgusting pigs pawing at her, but found his focus unwaveringly poised on that bloody hand.

With leering eyes, the mage peeled back the top of her gown. Faint scars crawled over her chest and shoulders - white and smoothed with age. He lowered his bare hand onto her bare shoulder and held there, even as his eyes dropped to the curve of her breasts.

If looks could kill, the searing hatred in her glare would have killed him on contact.

Vere’s fangs pushed at the edge of his gums. He could see his eyes burning in the reflection of the glass, bright pink and violent, fixed on that hand.

He wanted to bite , to tear . He longed to drag that man across the rough road and sharp dregs of the wastes until his screams dissolved into misshapen sobs, his face little more than a smear of blood and flesh. Then he would cut into the skin of that hand and peel it like fruit until every inch that had dared touch her could be burned.

His corpse would make a fine toy for Ais’ soulless.

The mage dragged his hand across her chest, fingertips brushing the edge of her collar bones, before wrapping around her throat loosely.

She was shaking - with rage, fear, deep shame, he wasn’t sure. Fresh blood hit the air, seeping from her balled fists. Her nails must have bitten into her own flesh.

Vere’s eye twitched.

He was more fox than man, his fury rippling through his body, a song of violence that echoed deep into his bones. Thoughts had left him. His attempts to unravel the completely foreign reaction he was experiencing subsumed beneath a clamor of urges, instincts. Get your filthy hands off her. How dare you touch what does not belong to you . That woman is beyond you. She’s - mine.

Vere froze. The word reverberated within him, bizarre, outlandish, and yet - right. So right the growl held back within his chest began to rumble through him.

Mine . Mine mine mine .

The haze of possessive, righteous fury clouded his mind, his senses.

Unbeknownst to the fool beyond the window, the mage moved to the next location - his hand dragging down her chest, pushing the thin gown aside to grab her breast.

Her eyes clenched tight, her disgust visceral on her face.

Vere saw red.

The hand severed from the wrist in a spray of blood.

Three seconds passed.

In the first, the shadows of the room clawed at the mages with vicious abandon.

In the second, Vere had locked his hands at his observer’s jaw and nape, twisting with enough brute force to twist her head all the way around.

In the third, bodies dropped to the floor - two in a spray of blood, one a doll with her strings cut.

His heart hammered in his chest. He panted under the pressure of the chains, his beast writhing against the collar and seal imprisoning his true self. Sweat covered his body, his tail twitching with rage.

Vere turned and punctured the glass with his claws. His fist slammed into them, destroying the seal with brute force until cracks spread across the surface in a spidery web before the window shattered. He jumped through, shards of glass fracturing beneath his boot.

Wide-eyed, her fear thick in the air, the woman looked up at him.

He lurched over her and scented her thoroughly, his face pressed to the crook of her neck. That sweet, tangy scent stole his senses until he had swiped his tongue over her skin, nipped at the flesh. A small sound echoed from her throat, causing naked want to pool thick and insistent in his belly.

In a dazed moment of complete insanity, he pictured himself taking her on the examination table, biting into her neck and holding her to the slab of steel as he plunged himself into her wet heat and rutted until his lust and fire had been sated.

Then a siren erupted outside the room. They had moments before mages would be flooding down the hall, with weapons blessed with holy water, the Abbess ready and waiting to take hold of his chains once more.

His sense returned, and he cut the manacles holding her instead. The tip of his claws accidentally nicked the bandages as well, the length falling limp to the table and revealing skin like a summer storm, threaded through with gold veins.

She immediately grabbed for him, to pull him off, to attack - her hands clasped the iron chain draping over his back. The metal burned white hot and hummed at the touch and then -

Vere gasped.

The seal weakened.

The cloistering seal that had pinned him in for so long, trapped him within the confines of these chains and this body, only to be released at the bidding of the wretched Senobium - and only then at a fraction of his power, neutered, tamed.

Her hand had dropped the chain in shock.

Vere snatched her arm up and held her against the collar, pressing her skin to the seal, manic with impending euphoria.

“Yes. Yes ,” he hissed as her flesh continued to siphon off the power of the seal.

She stared into his glowing, monstrous eyes, her total confusion and shock obvious, until her hand curled around the collar. Her grip tightened as she focused intently on the leather - and the seal began to weaken at an even faster pace.

She was deliberately eroding the seal. Helping him.

Vere pushed with all his might against the remaining magic binding him to his current form, straining and snarling, his body morphing, bones breaking and shifting, fur pushing from his skin -

The collar snapped, and he was free .

A booming, high cackle filled his ears, and it took a moment for him to realize it was Vere himself. His true form consumed what little space existed in the room. The ceiling bowed above him. The door had been blasted off its hinges and shattered into the hall outside.

He felt a flurry of movement below him and craned his snout down to peer at her.

The woman gazed up at him in horrified awe. Now, he scented her and shuddered under the full brunt of that scent. Sweet, tangy, ripe and mouthwatering. He wanted to roll in it. To climb between her legs and drink straight from the source.

His mate.

Nearly four hundred attempts by the damned Senobium to locate her, to find this one being who they believed could be used against him, to bend him to their will in ways they had not succeeded in millenia - and in the span of minutes she had freed him entirely from their control. The enormity of this discovery was something to consider later, but for now -

Vere wanted to laugh. He wanted to swallow her whole.

Mostly, he wanted to get as far away from the tower as possible and as fast as he could run.

He opened his mouth and curled his tongue around her, dragging her into his maw. She screamed and fought him, those perfect little hands scratching at his palate. When ten minutes had passed of him barreled his way out of the tower, crushing mages beneath his paws, she seemed to realize he wasn’t going to eat her (yet) and sat just behind his teeth to watch.

Soon he was sprinting over the wastes, the wind in his fur, power singing through every vein of his body.

Vere had a thousand ideas for what to do with his new found freedom, but he supposed the first would be this: laying claim to his mate and ensuring she was bound to his side, forever.

____________________________________

comments and likes very much appreciated! thanks for reading!

#touchstarved fic #vere x mc #vere x reader #vere reader fic #touchstarved vere #touchstarved imagines #touchstarved fanfic

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gallusrostromegalus · 2 years

Note

I only just started following but I have a couple questions. Are werewolves a thing and what bit of lore are you really proud of/had a sudden idea that just spiraled out?

So the clinical term for any human that transforms into an animal/more animalistic form during a specific celestial phenomenon is "Cyclical Zoothropy", of which wolf-transforming humans that have thier transfrmation cycles triggered by the "full moon"* are only a small slice.

All cases of CZ have been traced back to a single curse accidentally placed by Ancient Mesopotamian wizards approximately 20,000 to 40,000 years ago. The going theory is that they were attempting to create solar-powered super-soldiers and really, really REALLY messed it up.

Cyclical Zoothropy is a blood-bourne curse, and is transmitted in similar fashion as many fluid transfer diseases- through bites, sexual contact, or ineffective filtering by the placenta from mother to child. Certain strains of CZ have drugs that reduce the symptoms and contagiousness, but it's generally advised to avoid bites or direct sexual contact with anyone if you think you might have CZ.

"...wouldn't you know if you had it because you turn into a horse every time Orion is visible in the sky?" Not necessarily! Some cases of Cyclical Zoothropy can lie dormant for years or generations because the celestial phenomenon they're associated with is so rare. When Hale-Bopp came around in '97, more than a few people were in for QUITE the surprise! Other transformations are triggered by more erratic phenomena, like the presence of solar flares, or when meteor showers reach a certain intensity.

Turning into an animal or developing a more animal-like body isn't a good indicator either, because there are quite a few things that can cause someone to suddenly and spontaneously transform, like misdirected curses, living near a magically powerful artifact, gaining the 'favor' of a powerful entity, or eating random mushrooms you found in the woods. If you do suddenly experience transformative symptoms, please isolate yourself and contact a medical professional for tesing immediately. CZ and other transformative curses are extremely variable in nature and can effect people in unexpected ways. Also, humans have an extremely high tolerance for toxins that most animals do not, so stay away from the chocolate, avocado, oions, xylitol and grapes.

That said, CZ is a very treatable and livable condition, and there are many people with CZ that live very celebrated lives. Many lycanthropes find fulfilling work as search-and-rescue professionals, disease diagnosticians or taste-testers. The famous "Lassie" was portrayed by beloved actor "Pal" Weatherwax for almost two decades to great critical acclaim.

That said, due to the widespread nature of CZ, (while CZ is not common, it is found worldwide across regionality, ethnicity, sex, gender and class. If you know more than 100 people, odd are you know SOMEONE with CZ) certain public accommodations have been made- medical time off for transformations is legally protected in most countries, and discrimination against people with CZ is increasingly discouraged and banned under the law. Wearing excessive amounts of perfume or cologne is considered extremely rude and is grounds for barring someone from entering an enclosed space like a plane or public transit. Food labeling laws to prevent accidental poisonings came about much earlier in most of the world and even trace amounts of commonly-toxic-to-animal ingredients must be reported.

#TPOFATGIF #The Power Of Friendship (And This Gun I Found!)#Yugioh #Yugioh fanfic

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httpknjoon · 1 year

Text

learning about the twins | ksj

plot | it's your first ultrasound day! you and your husband is about to receive a surprise news.

word count | 1.9k+

genres | fluff, domestic au, parents au

pairing | actor!jin x famous!reader (also, pregnant!reader)

note | it took me long to respond! but thank you so much for loving their journey, anon. hope you'll like this one too 🌸🤍 ps. I'm missing the a-listers so much haha

main masterlist | the a-listers: confidential masterlist

"Jeez, your hand..."

You scoffed after you placed his hand on your lap like a habit. Just by a simple touch, you felt the coldness of his palm.

"It's just an ultrasound, Jinnie."

You can feel your heart beating like a drum at this very moment, but you're just better at hiding it. This is your second time visiting your trusted obstetrician while this is Jin's first since he was abroad when you learned about your pregnancy. He promised to come with you to your checkups every time since then. Today will be your first ultrasound.

"I know, I know." he sighed as he tried to focus on driving. But you can his knuckles turning white with how hard he's clutching onto the steering wheel.

Ever since your doctor confirmed your pregnancy, you have been researching on your own. Counting the weeks now, you are only in your ninth. But after seeing other women's experiences and images online, you cannot help but notice that your tummy is growing a bit faster and bigger than normal. You thought of the possibility of having multiple babies but you don't want to tell Jin about it. You don't want to cause any false alarms or surprises.

"Okay, we're here... please take a breath, hon." you quipped.

With you, he inhales and then exhales. You squeezed his hand, making him look at you. You smiled and placed a soft kiss on his knuckle, and his face softens. Before leaving the car, he put on his cap and mask. You do the same thing. Although your doctor made sure to keep your schedules with her private, you still take extra measures to protect your identity from whoever may recognize you in the hospital.

"Dr. Philipps texted me earlier that she's already there. So we can just go straight there," you spoke before getting in the elevator.

Dr. Philipps (Or Stella is what you call her sometimes outside her medical clinic) has been your trusted doctor for years. You've been going to Stella for your bi-annual checkups ever since Hailey started managing you. She doesn't care about your famed status and is not shy to lecture you about your health when necessary. You are close enough to her that she sends you holiday cards every year while you send her gifts on every special occasion.

"I should not be the one who's nervous about this." he chuckled, shaking his head.

"Well, this is my second time already. So you are pretty reasonable right now, hon." you clung to his arm and instantly locked your hands together, still feeling the coldness from his palm.

From the underground parking lot, the elevator took you two to the eighth floor. It was a great relief that there was only a single person who joined you two throughout the two-minute ride, an old man who probably didn’t know anything about you and your husband. Jin greeted him with a short good morning when they shared a quick glance.

The elevator door opened. You and Jin walked straight to your doctor's door, not making any eye contact with anyone. Stella usually starts her check-ups in the late mornings but she always makes an exception for you, sending you in at seven o'clock. You knocked a couple of times on the door before hearing a voice from inside the room.

"Come in!"

Of course, Jin opened the door for you.

"Oh, so the husband is finally here." she acknowledged Jin who followed behind you. "The last time you went here, you looked more nervous.”

You laughed at that, easing your heartbeats for a moment. Blood rushes to Jin’s cheeks and ears as your doctor reminded him of that moment from years ago when you had a pregnancy scare. That was just a couple of years ago, back in the early stages of your relationship. You pulled him to sit on the other chair next to you.

“Okay, before we do the ultrasound, how are we feeling today? Are we excited?” she began asking. Awkward giggles and nods filled the room and you knew she can already see both stress and excitement on your and Jin’s faces. She has probably seen a thousand of these reactions from her other patients.

“Any new symptoms, YN?”

You answered, listing down the things you have been experiencing since your last visit. Frequent urination, extreme morning sickness (so extreme that Jin wakes up in worry, hearing you from the bathroom. Him handing you a glass of water became a part of your morning routine.), you’re always tired and have mood swings.

“Oh, and I feel like I’m growing fast,” you added, holding your stomach over the hoodie you’re wearing.

Stella raised an eyebrow, “Okay… how about we check on your weight and vitals before we start on your first ultrasound.”

You nodded. After the whole check-up with your vitals, she offered you a gown if you want to change before the ultrasound.

“Are we going to know the gender already?” asked Jin.

“Oh, no. it’s too early for that. Right now, we’re going to see how big your baby is since you mentioned that and maybe we can hear a small heartbeat too.” she explained.

“Ooh, that’s cold.” you flinched with the ultrasound gel Stella spread over the lower part of your tummy.

She chuckled, “I know. You’ll never get used to it.”

Jin sat next to the monobloc chair next to the bed. He held your hand, doing the thing he usually does when he knows you’re nervous: massaging your palm. Although you didn’t say anything about your own worry on the way here and he’s a bundle of nerves right now, he can still see right through you. You were great at hiding you’re emotions but he just knows it. It made him wonder and felt more guilty about his absence during your first checkup.

“Okay, so this is your uterus…”

Stella was just beginning to move the device around your lower belly when you spotted something on her monitor almost instantly. Your eyes widened. It was like your heart stopped and you turned to Jin to see if he saw it too. But your innocent husband was just listening to your doctor and nodding while setting his eyes on the monitor.

“Stella…” you called her name, almost in a whisper as you were surprised. You hoped you weren’t just seeing things because you can already feel the bliss in your soul.

Worried, Jin looks at you and he can see your eyes glistening. Lines formed between his brows. Stella also turned her head to you.

“Yes?”

“Those are two…”

You didn’t even finish your sentence and Jin just didn’t understand what was going on. This was his first time seeing an ultrasound. The only thing he just learned about your doctor is a uterus. But you seemed emotional just by the mention of it and he is kinda scared of you mentioning a number. He really just cannot process properly at this point.

Stella moved the device again while looking at the screen. It didn’t take long for her to smile and nod, “Oh, yup. That’s definitely two sacks over there. It’s twins.”

You let out a shaky laugh upon hearing the confirmation while Jin stood up from surprise to have a better look at the screen.

“What?” he asked in disbelief with the biggest smile on his face.

His eyes were filled with excitement and surprise while Stella began to explain those two sacks she was talking about. He never felt stupid since he already noticed those earlier but he just don’t know it. With your hand still in his, it is now unconsciously clutched near his chest.

“This is baby A and we’ll try to get their heartbeats…” Stella clicked some buttons and suddenly, all you and Jin can hear is that little quick series of lub dubs. “Oh, that is a great heartbeat! And this one is baby B...”

“Wow…” he reacted, still stunned, before looking at you.

He sees happy tears rolling down your cheeks and he softly wipes them before leaning down to plant a kiss on your forehead.

Stella also measured each twin and shared how old they are. One is exactly nine weeks old while the other is eight and a half weeks old. And while she was saying all that, the disbelief in both your and Jin’s systems is dying down but another emotion is growing quickly.

“But are they fine? Is everything normal?” you asked.

She reassures you with the same smile that always calms you down during your checkups, “Yes. They are fine. We will just watch you closely to make sure everything will go through smoothly.”

“Twins. We’re having twins.”

You chuckled as Jin repeated that sentence for the fourth time already when you two left Dr. Phillipps’ clinic. Those were the only words that came out of his lips since then. He's like a broken record player repeating things over and over again. It’s just sinking in.

“Yes, we are, my love.” you giggled as you leaned your head to his shoulder while walking out of the elevator to the underground parking lot.

He didn’t say a word again and opened the car door for you. Being the most worried and caring soon-to-be-dad, Jin helped you climb up his range rover. He placed a hand on the top of your head, in case you accidentally bump your head. As if you were the most fragile porcelain glass in the world. You just smiled at his action.

“I’m pregnant. But I can do stuff, you know?” you joked as he fastened the seatbelt for you.

As the belt locked, he looked at you. “I know, bub. But we need to be more careful now. We have three people to take care of now.”

Your eyebrow raised before you chuckled, “Three? We’re only having two babies, Jin.”

“And how about you? You’re my biggest baby.” he instantly replied with a teasing tone.

It was corny, for sure. But you cannot stop the smile that formed on your lips when he said that. He laughed at your caught-off-guard reaction and you later joined in, laughing with that.

“Your ears are all red again!” you pointed out before holding them.

Your palms then held his cheeks. He smiled. You savored the silent moment. Without any words, you two knew what the person in front of you was feeling. Surprise, happiness, and maybe a little fear. You pursed your lips before speaking,

“We can do this. We’ll be good with this whole parenting twins thing.”

He nods, still in your touch, “We will, bub. We’ll learn together.”

Your chest heaves as you let out a big puff of air. Having one baby is already scary, what more with having two? But you have Jin. You know he will be next to you throughout this whole process.

“I love you,” you whispered.

“I love you too, bub,” he answered before you leaned in for a kiss.

As he drives you two back home, Jin brought something up. Saying,

“You know, if Donny learns this, he will ask me to name one of the twins to him.”

“We can do that…” you replied with no hesitation.

But in reality, you just want to see your husband’s reaction. He looked at you with wide eyes and distressed eyebrows. Since you were an actress for a living, you managed to stop yourself from laughing and continued,

“Look, Donny has already done a lot for us. Maybe–”

“Oh, no, bub. We’re not going to name any of our kids Donald.”

a/n: feel free to send me an ask if you want to learn something about the a-listers!! tysm for reading <3

taglist rules

THE A-LISTERS: CONFIDENTIAL TAGLIST [OPEN]

@xiumo @joonsbvtch @firesighgirl @qualityjoonie @lojocas

PERMANENT TAGLIST

@dunixxd @cixrosie @jksjx @embrace-themagic @buttvi @starbtslove @missseoulite @vanntaesworld @kenqki @miyukihoshi @stopeatread @seolaquotes @greyrain23 @chimchimmarie @petalsofink @tearyjjeon @itshookyworld

#jin x reader #jin fluff #bts jin #jin fic #jin au #seokjin x reader #seokjin fanfiction #seokjin fluff #bts fluff #bts x reader #bts imagine #bts series #the a listers ksj #the a listers: universe lol

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emeritusemeritus · 5 months

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Simple really [Weasley Twins x ftm!Reader]

This work is based off a request I received from @king-of-the-damned-world and it’s been a pleasure writing this for you, sorry again that it has taken so long!

Unfortunately I am not currently taking requests but I am currently working on a few different pieces that should hopefully be uploaded soon.

Title: Simple really.

Pairing: Weasley Twins x Ftm!Reader {Established Relationship}

Timeline: Set around GOF.

Summary: With the Yule Ball around the corner, you must make a choice that could alter your entire life. Do you stay the same and remain unhappy or risk it all to finally find peace?

Warnings: Reader is trans!male (ftm). Contains a little angst and a lot of self reflection. Pronouns change throughout. A little humour, a little fluff and a lot of heartwarming goodness. Mentions of reader wearing a suit. Mentions of gender stereotypes and conforming.

This is my first time writing non-afab reader so please be gentle.

The walls of Hogwarts had never seemed so dreary to you or less like home than they felt right now. The corridors felt empty and hollow, even filled with people. It was a mild autumn day but it felt like it was mid-winter in your mind, every fibre of your body feeling bleakness all around you. You wanted to crawl into bed, shut the surrounding curtains and disappear but you knew even that wouldn't bring you comfort.

You'd avoided your boyfriends all day most successfully, most of the week really, which wasn't too hard between their shared detentions and your extra curricular activities. George might have been on to something, being the more sensitive of the two, but you were near certain that Fred hadn't even noticed anything was wrong, your efforts of hiding your true feelings paying off, at least for them.

You thought about going to Hagrid's, sharing a cup of tea or distracting yourself with his newest creature he was caring for but you didn't trust yourself not to unleash your inner monologue on him and quite frankly he wasn't the right person to work through your thoughts with. You didn't know who was, never having much experience on the matter except for your own thoughts.

You could talk to your head of house, or Madame Pomfrey, but that seemed too clinical, too unemotional in a time when you felt you needed it.

You sat on the grass, looking down at Hagrid's hut and the outskirts to the forbidden forest, watching as smoke rose from the chimney of his hut, drifting in the gentle breeze until it disappeared high up into the sky. You sighed, looking down at your legs and the wand in your hand, absently twirling it as you wished this could all be fixed with a single wave of said wand.

Your mind felt plagued, completely consumed by your thoughts, by the realisations you'd made and the intoxicated consequences they would have on your life if you sought to decide on the route to take. You were at a metaphorical crossroads in your life and your two options were to stay exactly as you were, on the path that had been created for you by societal expectations and preconceived notions; or you could create your own path, following your heart and deal with the consequences as they come.

The biggest loss would be your boyfriends Fred and George Weasley, the boys you had loved for years, first as friends and then more as your relationship grew. This new path you were forging would jeopardise the relationship in a way that nothing else ever could but was it worth a life of unhappiness and unfulfilment? It wasn't exactly new for you to be consumed by these thoughts but in the past year they'd grown in strength and reoccurrence until the faint inkling turned into assuredness, certainty and faint hope.

You sighed again, knowing what needed to be done.

You dragged yourself to your common room, another pang of discomfort hitting you as you walked to your pre-selected dormitory and threw yourself on your bed, thankful that no one else was there. You pulled out some parchment and your quill and began to write. There was no need to plan what you were trying to say, no thought of perfecting your words or of your penmanship, it was just honest words straight from your brain onto the quickly filled parchment. A rabid determination washed over you as you began writing, unable to stop or slow as you finally put everything you'd known to be true and denied for years plainly on paper for your loved ones to read.

"Whaaaatya doing?" You suddenly hear from behind you and you let out a scream, your body jolting upright in bed at the sudden and unexpected intrusion. George, who watches on, thinks quickly and salvages the ink pot that had spilled with your actions, not one spot of black ink falling into your crafted parchment or bed.

"Merlin you two!" You said, clutching at your chest as you look upon the grinning twins that had essentially broken into your dorm, not for the first time.

"Sorry sweetheart, couldn't resist," Fred smirks, hopping down onto the bed, followed by George who takes a seat with a hint more decorum than his slightly older brother.

"What you got there?" Fred says, nodding his head to the parchment. You suddenly freeze and clam up, not expecting the letters to be read so soon by the intended recipients.

"Potions homework," you say absently, scrambling to move the letter than you'd previously been so proud of.

"He didn't set us any," Fred says, eying you with suspicion before he turns to George in question, "did he?"

George shakes his head slowly in reply and his gaze flickers up to you, a sadness in his eyes as he realises that you were lying to them. Apparently, from the look he was giving you, you'd not quite hidden your mental and physical absence as well as you thought you had.

"What's going on darling?" He asks, cutting through the bullshit. It's now or never. You take one last look at them, their long gorgeous hair and the freckles, trying to remember them like this, just how you loved them. You took a deep breath and stare at your slightly shaking hands, suddenly not knowing any way to explain yourself.

"Are you breaking up with us?" Fred asks quickly, his nervousness evident in his voice.

Your eyes shoot up to his quickly, as if offended by the notion and splutter out a reply that really doesn't help your case.

"No! Merlin no, I, maybe? I don't want to."

"Glad we got that cleared up," George says bitterly, though there's no trace of humour in his voice.

"It's not, you, it's," you begin to say, unable to meet their eyes. "I want to be with you both but you won't want me anymore."

"That's ridiculous," they say at the same time, protesting your words almost instantly. You sigh, picking at the blanket beneath you.

"I just, here," you say suddenly, thrusting the barely dried parchment onto George's lap and lingering for only a second before you run off, out of the dormitory and out of the common room.

Somehow, they find you a few hours later, curled up in the astronomy tower, fighting off the cold that you had not anticipated in your hurry. You caught sight of the Marauders map hanging out of Fred’s pocket and realised that they’d either borrowed it from Harry or had momentarily stolen it from him, seeking you out.

"Here he is," Fred says, catching sight of you and gesturing for his twin to join you as he smiles down at your crouched figure. His words make you freeze, shocked at the pronoun he used, so nonchalantly that is blindsides you.

"What-."

"We read your letter," George says, crouching down beside you, followed only moments later by his twin.

"All of this over a dress?" Fred says, smirking at you as if nothing was wrong.

"Well not really," you mumble, worried that they'd taken everything the wrong way, not taking it seriously enough.

"Well no," Fred admits, reaching out for your hand, "why didn't you just talk to us?"

"Because you wouldn't want me anymore," you said in a quiet voice, your tone blunt as if it was obvious. You were trying so hard not to cry, pushing down every urge as you faced your problems head on.

"Who told you that?" George says, outraged at the notion.

"No one?" You say unconvincingly, even though it was the truth.

"Sweetheart," Fred says, pausing and looking up to you with hesitation, "do you still want to be called that?"

You nod slowly, still unsure of where the conversation was going.

"I know this is a big thing for you, it's a big thing for all of us, and rightly so, but it doesn't change how we feel," he says, a smile tugging at the side of his mouth, as if he's trying to show you that it really is okay.

"Yeah," George says from beside him, "you're still ours, just with a few different pronouns."

You're silent for a moment, shocked as you take in their words until a huff of laughter escapes you.

"You're really okay with it? You still want to be with me?"

They share a look between each other, identical devious smiles on their faces.

"A few questions," Fred says, suddenly rather serious. You nod instantly, having anticipated this.

"Have you had a brain injury in the past 24 hours?"

"Eh?" You ask, suddenly feeling very vulnerable.

"I ask, you answer," he smirks with a shrug. You shake your head. “Not fell off a broom or from a high ledge?” Once again you shake your head, still reeling with confusion.

"Have you been put under the imperius curse? Blink twice for yes," George says, an identical expression on his face. You blink once, with a frown and shake your head.

"Are you really someone else pretending to be our love, using Polyjuice potion to trick us?"

"No."

“Prove it, one thing about me and Georgie that no one else would know,” Fred says, egging you on with a grin and a wiggle of his eyebrows.

“Uh, George has a freckle on his left rib and you have a mark on your left bumcheek,” you say, squinting up at them, not quite believing that those exact words were tumbling out of your mouth.

"Then that's sorted," George says, as if it's that simple. "We might need reminding sometimes, old habits and all that but nothing will really change, not between us at least."

"We love you, male or female, simple really."

The night of the Yule Ball had finally come and you were a bundle of nerves as you fiddled with the buttons on your suit.

It was ironic really that your whole life had turned upside down but you'd landed exactly the right way up, never happier now that you could be exactly who you'd always been, who you knew you really were inside.

The idea of having to wear a dress, to conform to the social pressures that came along with your birth assigned gender was the catalyst to all of this, the turning point that you couldn't go back from. As you looked in the mirror and saw the man you had always been inside reflected in the mirror, a tear came to your eye.

"You look perfect, love," George says moving to stand behind you. He towers over you as usual and you can't help but think of how devastatingly handsome he looks, the colours of his waistcoat and dress robes contrasting perfectly with his flaming hair.

"You both look so handsome," you say, reaching out for them both as Fred steps closer to you, his suit matching George's and complimenting your own.

"Out the way, three handsome gentlemen coming through!" Fred says, barging past the crowd as he leads you by the hand into the hall, George attached to your other hand as you navigate the crowd together.

“Yeah coming through! He’s all ours, everyone put your eyes back in your head and avert them!” George shouts, shooting you a wink.

Your smile shines brighter than every candle in the hall combined as you make your grand entrance, finally at peace with yourself and the world around you.

Taglist is currently being uploaded.

#harry potter #fred weasley #fred weasley x you #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley imagine #george weasley #george weasley x you #weasley twins x you #Weasley twins x ftm reader #Weasley twins x transmalereader #fred weasley x reader x george weasley

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variousqueerthings · 8 months

Text

we have always been here: documentaries about trans people

documentaries about trans people, starting in the year 1953. I don't speak to filmic quality or whether or not something is problematic, what matters here is simply the testimony and the stamp of existence (including in those where the subject matter is spoken about, rather than getting to speak for themselves)

(I haven't seen every one of these yet, so some of them have slightly shorter texts to go along with them)

while (as you'll see) most of these are US-based movies, they are from all over the world. I'd be curious about whether there are any focused specifically on the intersection of transness and disability, I don't personally know of any, although of many speak to issues with access to healthcare (for example southern comfort)

all the ones that have links connected to them are watchable for free

some of these can be watched for free on the archive, youtube, vimeo, many could do with a few coins thrown their way: many of the movies, for example the the aggressives can be rented on vimeo, transgender tuesdays is free on youtube but accepting donations for trans women of colour, lotus sports club is doing festivals currently and is accepting donations to support the team and the vulnerable trans (now men) who have had to leave it to find work, call her ganda is accepting donations to support the family's legal costs in bringing justice for their daughter

remember, finding the stories that have been graciously shared is one thing, supporting our community is the next step

glen or glenda (1953): the first known movie about trans people, a mixed-media semi-fictional account (US)

the queen (1968) (US): following drag-queens at a national beauty pageant two years before stonewall, including footage of crystal labeija (US)

change of sex (1979-1999): a five-part series following trans woman julia grant as she tries to access gender affirming care via the gender identity clinic (UK - available on BBC iplayer)

paris is burning (1990): documenting queer people in the ballroom scene, community, competition, and challenges (US)

shinjuku boys (1995): following five young men who work at onabe bars, which cater to women, as they try to make ends meet (Japan)

transexual menace (1996): snapshots of the melting pot of trans life in new york, from famous faces, to protest, including several immigrants to america from columbia, west africa, japan, hawaii, and germany (Germany/US)

you don't know dick: courageous hearts of transsexual men (1997): about several trans men in different walks of life, who chat about their experiences, politics, and history (US)

the brandon teena story (1998): a documentation about the murder of brandon teena, using testimonies from the people involved (US)

southern comfort (2001): follows robert eads in the final year of his life, before he died of initially treatable ovarian cancer (US)

superstar in a housedress: the life and legend of jackie curtis (2004): a portrait of jackie curtis, one of the earliest punk pioneers, by (mainly cis) people who knew her (US)

screaming queens: the riot at compton’s cafeteria (2005): a rare documentary of the time featuring the voices of trans activists, about the pre-stonewall compton's cafeteria riot (US)

beautiful darling (2005): a portrait of candy darling (one of the trans woman superstars of the 60s) from the perspective of the (mainly cis) people who knew her (US)

the aggressives (2005): centered on black studs, mascs, and trans men, and more, exploring the term "aggressives," race and gender, filmed over five years (US)

Jayne County: man enough to be a woman (2005): a performance by veteran punk musician Jayne County and her band (UK/US) (excerpt)

beautiful daughters (2006): following a group of trans women who performed the vagina monologues in 2005 (US)

still black: a portrait of black transmen (2008): a series of interviews following black trans men speaking about their lives, careers, race, and gender (US)

the advocate for fagdom (2011): a series of political testimonies by queer activists, including the punk musician vaginal davis (US)

she said boom: the story of fifth column (2012): a documentary about seminal 1980s queercore punkband fifth column (Canada)

TRANS (2012): following a series of trans people at varying places in their transition, and the people around them (US)

hide & seek (2013): a group of trans people in pakistan speak about their experiences with the language they have access to (Pakistan)

before the last curtain falls (2014): transexuals and drag queens in their 60s-70s touring a show called "gardenias" (Germany)

mala mala (2014): following a number of trans people in puerto rico from all walks of life (Puerto Rico)

queercore: how to punk a revolution (2017): a primer to the history of queercore with interviews of some of the people who created the scene (US)

laerte-se (2017): a portrait of the underrated visual artist laerte (Brazil)

a year in transition (2018): 20 year old arab-american trans man documents one year of going on hormones (US)

call her ganda (2018): the story about the murder of a trans filipino woman named ganda by a us marine and the repercussions (Philippines)

indianara (2019): indianara is an activist fighting for trans survival and rights in brazil (Brazil)

disclosure (2020): going through a history of trans representation in the media (US)

transgender tuesdays (2020): featuring trans people talking about a groundbreaking gender-affirming clinic that opened in the 90s in the san franciscan tenderloin district (US)

prayers for sweet waters (2021): three trans sex-workers who live in cape town discuss their experience during covid (South Africa)

the end of wonderland (2021): follows erotic photographer tara emory as she goes through changes in her life (US)

travesía travesti (2021): the last performance of a cabaret during the chilean revolt of 2019 (Chile)

casa susanna (2022): documentary about the 50s summer retreat for male crossdressers and trans women (US)

la vida es un carnaval (2022): in a rural town, a group of trans women plan the first gay pride during its annual carnival and a bunch of scar tissue comes up (Mexico)

this is not me (2022): two young transmen in iran with supportive families share their daily lives (Iran)

lotus sports club (2022): a football club in cambodia run by trans man pa vann and a safe space for trans boys and lesbians (Cambodia)

nel mio nome (2022): four italian transmen share their thoughts, experiences, and identities (Italy)

the dads (2023): a group of dads of trans kids meet with the father of matthew shepard for a fishing trip (US)

kokomo city (2023): intra-community, celebratory documentary centering black trans sex-workers in america (US)

#queer stuff #trans stuff #queer resources #queer cinema #queer documentary #trans documentary #trans rights #queer rights #queer culture #queer art

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laxmiree · 7 months

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[CN] MLQC Lucien’s Rumors & Secrets – Season 2: Threshold (阈值)

⚠️ SPOILER ALERT!! ⚠️

This post contains a detailed spoiler for an R&S that has not been released in EN yet! Feel free to notify me if there are any mistakes in the translation~

Lucien followed the doctor's pointing finger to a line on the report— a small amount of abnormal PTEN gene sequence in the cells.

“Although the abnormal PTEN is only a small amount, irreversible cancer development may occur if your deterioration continues."

"The speed of deterioration is closely related to the frequency of Evol use, so it is recommended to reduce the usage of Evol as much as possible in the future.”

Lucien nodded occasionally, his heart not experiencing significant fluctuations. This day had been expected, and it had arrived as scheduled.

[T/N] It’s advised to read S2 chapter 45 first because this R&S sets between S2 chapter 45 and chapter 51 timeline-wise. I usually translated the main story first but translating this first makes more sense chronologically AND will provide extra pain for S2 chapter 51~

ALSO, after reading the R&S please head up to S2 Chapter 51, the pain is more complete with the main story~

[Chapter 1]

“Professor Lucien, the latest clinical trial report results are out, and they are still not very promising.”

This not-so-good news didn't come as a surprise to Lucien. He nodded and said, “Ah He, you've worked hard these past few days. Take a good rest over the weekend, and next week, we'll come back to discuss improvement strategies.”

“But we've already improved almost every aspect,” Ah He swallowed the words on the tip of his tongue and glanced at Lucien's composed profile. “In addition, two new deteriorating patients have signed the drug trial observation agreement. Here are the records.”

Lucien took the file and opened it, quickly scanning the text inside.

“The first patient is forty-two years old, an Evolver with superhuman vision. Diagnosed with glaucoma seven years ago, their vision started deteriorating significantly six months ago. After genetic screening, it was confirmed that the condition was caused by deterioration.”

As he turned to the next page, Lucien's gaze froze.

....The second patient is a Water-type Evolver, but the symptoms of deterioration are widespread malignant lymphoma.

“Based on previous cases, the direction of Evolver deterioration should be closely related to their own Evol attribute,” Ah He showed a puzzled expression, “and this patient's symptoms were an exception, with a more unstable rate of deterioration than ordinary patients. Perhaps this could be a discovery in the study of deterioration illness.”

Lucien glanced at the photos of the young man again. Although his impression wasn't deep, he quickly found this person in his memory – he had appeared in one of BS's Evol modification experiments many years ago.

“The individual cases don't have high reference value. We need to expand the sample group and continue to watch for similar cases of deterioration.”

“Understood, Professor.”

Back in his office, Lucien spread out the two reports in front of him. The deterioration index line graph in the first report steadily increased over time like most of the patient data he had seen. However, the line graph in the second report suddenly spiked at a certain point in time after a long period of stability.

Lucien unlocked his computer screen, and a medical report appeared on the screen. The diagnosis result, highlighted in red and bolded was glaring and prominent – “Gene Deterioration Detected.”

The deterioration level line graph in the report progressed steadily, almost identical to the first half of the line graph of the second patient on the desktop.

As the report page slowly scrolled upward, a profile picture gradually appeared in the upper right corner.

He glanced indifferently at his own face in the photo, closed the document, and leaned back in his office chair, closing his eyes to rest.

The heart within his chest cavity beat steadily, just like every other day, strong and composed. No changes appeared to have occurred, yet hidden beneath the surface, there seemed to be an undercurrent that was difficult to detect, waiting for an opportunity to stir things up.

His brief reverie was interrupted by the ringing of his phone.

“Hello, Mr. Lucien. Your latest lab test report is ready. Please come to the laboratory during business hours to collect it.”

[If you remember- In S2 chapter chapter 31-1 Lucien mentioned that his situation regarding blood disease is unique. From this R&S I guess what he means by unique situation is that his deterioration wasn't REALLY bad until he started to overuse evol, mainly for the sake of protecting MC. This evol overuse will get worse in S2 chapter 51 :D]

[Chapter 2]

“Have you experienced any discomfort in your body recently? Have you used Evol?”

“Everything has been normal. I've used Evol a few times, but not excessively,” Lucien quickly counted the number of times he had used Evol in his mind over the past month.

It was around seven or eight times, within a manageable range.

The doctor pushed the report in front of Lucien with a serious expression. “Your deterioration had been well-controlled previously, but this time, there are changes in various indicators. Platelet count has decreased, and there might be a slight impact on your clotting function. Additionally—”

Lucien followed the doctor's pointing finger to a line on the report— a small amount of abnormal PTEN gene sequence in the cells.*

“Although the abnormal PTEN is only a small amount, irreversible cancer development may occur if your deterioration continues. The speed of deterioration is closely related to the frequency of Evol use, so it is recommended to reduce the usage of Evol as much as possible in the future.”

Lucien nodded occasionally, his heart not experiencing significant fluctuations. This day had been expected, and it had arrived as scheduled.

(T/N: PTEN is a tumor suppressor gene that plays a critical role in regulating cell growth and preventing the formation of tumors. And since his platelet count is decreasing, it'll be HARD to stop his bleeding)

The hospital wasn't far from the bioresearch institute, and he reached his office right on time for work. As usual, he opened his computer and pulled up the latest clinical reports on anti-deterioration medications that he had just received in his email.

Among the patients participating in the clinical trials, 42% showed some level of deterioration control after taking the medication, with 8% experiencing particularly positive results. However, for nearly 58% of the remaining patients,...

The research on the medication had been ongoing for nearly a year, yet it still couldn't achieve the expected efficacy. Lucien carefully examined the data on the screen, tapping his fingertips lightly on the desk.

Incomplete Evol genes could lead to abnormalities in the human body, but why would the highly praised “evolutionary” Evol genes lead to such destructive deterioration?

Could it be that Evol eliminates those who cannot withstand its power? Or is the deterioration of Evolvers, to some extent, a part of the world's evolutionary process?

Some vague thoughts raced through his mind, and Lucien allowed them to linger, making a mental note as he continued to focus on the report in front of him.

As the sunlight gradually intensified, shifting towards the other side of the skyline, Lucien took a deep breath, preparing to take a short break.

Just as he closed his eyes, his ears picked up three quick knocks on the door. The third knock was slightly heavier, a habit unique to Pete.

“Come in.”

The door swung open, and Pete briskly walked up to the desk, handing over a stack of research reports.

“Professor, there have been new developments in the experiment data regarding the neuronal position for maintaining neuron function. Detailed results and data are all written in the report. We can start the next phase of experiments tomorrow.”

Lucien quickly glanced at the data and results on the report, and he smiled.

“The results are even better and faster than I had imagined. After work, you can take everyone out to celebrate. Consider it a team-building event, and the institute will reimburse it.”

“You should join us too; the rapid progress of the experiment owes much to the insights you've given us. Everyone wants to thank you.”

Lucien paused for a moment, then continued nonchalantly, “Make a reservation for one more seat, and thank you for your hard work.”

“Sure thing! I'll go inform the others right away.”

After Pete left the office, Lucien shifted his gaze to the dormant screen. He saw his own blurry silhouette, and the lingering smile on his lips confirmed his fleeting good mood.

Maybe... He agreed a bit too quickly just now.

Lucien shook his mouse, and a dense data set appeared on the screen again. It was an observation report from NW on unusual energy fluctuations within Loveland City, as well as the strange phenomena they had generated. This report piqued his interest, and according to the original plan, he should have worked late to finish this research tonight.

However, occasionally participating in such activities could be beneficial for teamwork. Lucien hesitated for only three seconds before saving the document and shutting down the computer.

[Chapter 3]

“Swoosh-”

The clear water rinsed away the remnants of liquid in the test tube, and a momentary daydream washed over his relaxed mind. The scene from this morning when he left home reappeared before his eyes.

As Lucien opened his door, the opposite door also swung open, and a girl rushed out with a box of milk in hand. Her hair was slightly disheveled, clearly a result of rushing and not having time to tidy up for work.

He smiled faintly, but strangely, she seemed completely unaware of his presence and focused on her phone, anxiously waiting for the elevator.

In the next moment, the girl's figure seemed to “disappear,” but the elevator remained on the top floor, not descending.

He was briefly taken aback but quickly realized that this was likely the phenomenon caused by the energy fluctuations he had recently seen in the NW observation report on Loveland City. The unknown energy disturbance in the vicinity had created a “rift” in spacetime, and the girl was merely a projected illusion.

The sound of glass clinking brought Lucien back to reality, and he noticed that the test tube in his hand had bumped into the beaker.

“Professor, are you feeling a bit tired? Maybe I should take care of this for you,”

Lucien smiled in response to Pete's concern and began placing the lab equipment into the washing machine. “No need, nothing is pressing right now. I'll consider organizing equipment as a form of rest.”

Although the work on hand was never-ending, under her supervision, he had already learned to carve out some breathing space for himself.

During moments of complete relaxation, unexpected thoughts often diverged in his mind, which brought him happiness. However, lately, whenever he tried to clear his mind, the girl's image and voice would involuntarily “visit” him.

Seeing the slight, involuntary upward curve of his lips, Pete gave him a knowing look and half-jokingly asked, “Professor, are you going on a date later?”

“She's been quite busy lately.” Lucien subtly concealed the thoughts he had inadvertently revealed just now and continued, “Pete, have you chosen a topic for your thesis?”

“It's almost ready. This time, I plan to research 'Using Evol Energy to Stimulate Brain Cells for Alzheimer's Disease Treatment.' I'll put together a formal document for you to review.”

“I remember you were interested in brain memory restoration and extraction before, and you had many intriguing ideas. Are you not planning to explore that area this time?”

“Afterward, I reconsidered. There's more literature available on Alzheimer's disease, and the current market demand is higher. It seems like a more prudent choice.”

Lucien's gaze shifted slightly, not missing the hint of regret that flashed in Pete's eyes.

“I actually think that if it's a topic that interests you, you should give it a try,” Lucien blurted out his most direct thought, receiving a surprised look from Pete.

“What everyone else is doing may be the safer choice, but it's not necessarily the best choice.”

“Uncharted territory doesn't always equate to a dead end; it's just that, in many cases, people tend to instinctively seek the safer path.”

“But in research, the most valuable quality is the persistence to explore and seek knowledge.”

On the way back home, Lucien continued to contemplate the events of the afternoon.

In the realm of scientific research, aiming for safety was not necessarily a mistake; it often led to higher success rates. So, when he made that suggestion, it wasn't solely from an objective standpoint but also a personal desire that the researchers he had mentored could challenge more difficult domains.

Suddenly, a faintly familiar sweet fragrance wafted to his nostrils. He followed the scent and turned to see her favorite cream puff shop.

“Maybe I should buy one and give it a try.”

A few minutes later, Lucien sat on a park bench holding a freshly baked cream puff. He wasn't particularly fond of cream puffs, but the idea that had occurred to him a moment ago had struck without warning. Before he could contemplate the reason behind this thought, his body had already acted on it.

The cream puff, still warm inside its paper bag, emitted a subtle fragrance. He took a gentle bite, the crispy outer shell giving way to the creamy filling, creating a delicate taste on his tongue.

This cream puff wasn't overly sweet and the sweetness that could be detected was minimal.

This subtle sweetness triggered dopamine, and an inexplicable sensation gradually spread from his chest to his limbs. It seemed like his brain had received this pleasurable signal, making him feel considerably more relaxed.

So, this was what she meant by the happiness brought by sweets.

He slowly savored each bite of the cream puff.

Lucien knew that an irreversible change had occurred within himself.

[This behavior of trying new things and impulsively doing something feels like 'my time in this world won't be too long anyway' :""]

[Chapter 4]

Inside the research lab, the mechanical hum of instruments droned on rhythmically, and the stark white lights cast a cold silver gleam on the metal plaques with “NW” written on them.

“Blood pressure stable, sinus rhythm normal, no adverse reactions.”

“According to the drug's suggestions, he will act according to our instructions after leaving this lab.”

Lucien glanced through the glass at the person lying on the observation room bed.

“Conduct thorough post-experiment observations, don't overlook any minor irregularities.”

“Alright. Also, Professor Lucien, your ETL-147* drug trial application has been approved, and you need to sign the liability waiver.” The lab technician handed the paperwork to Lucien, looking somewhat hesitant.

“Are you sure you want to personally participate in the drug trial? Although we've conducted preliminary human trials, we haven't done large-scale clinical trials yet, and there are certain risks involved.”

Lucien quickly signed his name. “Trying it myself is the only way to discover areas that may need improvement.”

[I was right about Lucien experimenting on himself with that drug :"D. Anyway, ETL-147 is the same drug from S2 chapter 45]

“Once you've decided, you'll need to receive the injection within the confines of NW with someone present, as per the regulations.”

“Then let's do it now.”

Declining the researcher's offer to assist, Lucien skillfully rolled up his sleeve and disinfected the area. As he watched the liquid in the syringe decrease, he blinked slightly, concealing some contemplation.

“You can go ahead, I'll observe here for half an hour. If there are any issues, I'll reach out to you.”

He watched the researcher leave and then lowered his gaze to his arm, which had a tourniquet in place. Testing the drug on himself wasn't solely for drug research. He could increasingly feel that something was changing within him, hiding and flowing in the gaps of his nerves, elusive and slipping out of his control.

That's why he needed insurance.

He didn't wait for half an hour and left the observation room. The solemn and cold corridor echoed only with the light sound of his footsteps. Each corner had a circular surveillance device with a flashing red indicator light, watching his unhurried steps. He paid little attention to them as he arrived at Archive Room 8.

“Authentication personnel, Lucien. Authorization Level: Three.”

With a beep of an electronic tone, the door to the archive opened for him.

Rows of gray filing cabinets stood in order. He walked deeper into the room, stopping at the second-to-last row. From one of the shelves, he pulled out a file box.

“Blood Disorders and Deterioration Case Files.”

He opened the lid and browsed through the materials inside. During his involvement in the research of anti-blood disorder drugs at NW, Lucien had seen most of these files. As he turned a page, his slender fingers paused.

“Code **, deterioration level reached as high as 95%, reversed deterioration after ** experiment, and after a period of observation, full recovery of human functions, deterioration level reduced to 7%. Detailed information requires special-level clearance to access.”

Looking at the encrypted data, Lucien's lips curved upward without a hint of a smile. He returned the file box to its original place.

It seemed there were quite a few deals he could make here.

[Chapter 5]

“To see a world in a grain of sand, and a heaven in a wild flower. Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand, and eternity in an hour. A truth that’s told with bad intent, beats all the lies you can invent...”

(T/N: From the poem Auguries of Innocence written by William Blake. For Blake there's such thing as white lies. Because 'A truth that's told with bad intent' is worse than any lie, because some lies can be well-intentioned)

Under the camphor tree swayed by the autumn breeze, he softly recited verses from the book. Sensing the girl in his arms gradually breathing deeper, he closed the book and gently brushed a strand of hair from the corner of her eye.

In the warm breeze, Lucien slowly opened his eyes, gazing at the familiar cold white ceiling of his office, feeling a slight sense of déjà vu.

This was the fourth time in these seven days that he had dreamt of her.

Since the deterioration, he had hardly experienced any physical discomfort. However, the frequency of thinking about her had increased significantly. He didn't resist this feeling; in fact, every time he thought of her unintentionally, the neurons in his brain transmitted a sense of pleasure to every cell.

He ran his fingers over his knuckles; the wounds from his struggle with GR had scabbed over, but she still applied bandages to them cautiously. Lucien pressed his temple to clear his mind a bit, then returned to his desk, opened a document, and entered the latest date.

“Dreamt of her in a dream, vivid memory of dream content, but ruled out as a recollection.”

After recording this, he opened his email.

This was the latest data on energy fluctuations within Loveland City. On the vast map of Loveland City, there were numerous unusual energy fluctuations. After comparing the fluctuation charts for each period, he noticed the locations where fluctuations were concentrated at different times.

Approximately 36 days ago at around 18:39, Central Park. He and the girl had gone to the night market in the park after work, and they had dinner at a street food stall.

Approximately 27 days ago at around 12:25, the Life Sciences Institute. She came to bring him lunch and, in passing, asked him about the topic for the next program.

15 days ago at 23:48, his apartment. To celebrate the upcoming weekend, they stayed up late watching a movie and didn't return home until very late. She stood at his doorstep and bid him goodnight.

Nine days ago...

The light from the screen reflected a coldness in his pupils as he stared at the map with red markers blinking in different locations.

The center of the fluctuations, once again, was that source of power that had captivated countless people—CORE.

The more beautifully the flower bloomed, the more it attracted annoying flies.

A sudden sense of irritation welled up within him.

What would it take to keep those ill-intentioned insects away from this deeply-rooted flower?

“Snap.”

The light sound shattered the silence as the pen fell to the ground and rolled twice before coming to a stop by his feet.

That sudden absurd idea had torn away all pretense, revealing the raw instinct in its entirety.

— If she had her own path, she shouldn't be trapped by him.

— Don't restrain yourself with rationality, look at your true heart.

Perhaps that dream had already given him a hint. The scales in his heart had gradually tilted away from reason, moving in an unexpected direction.

— She withstood all the wind and rain that came her way, growing resiliently into someone he found truly remarkable. He couldn't encase her within his protective glass cover.

— Are you really don't expect it? Really don't want to possess her? Humans are inherently greedy. Indulgence is human nature.

Lucien felt as though there was a consciousness from a deeper layer detaching from his body, standing at a higher vantage point, watching with keen interest as the two voices in his mind continued their ongoing debate.

Perhaps his own deterioration graph had already started its inexorable ascent towards an unpreventable height, progressing towards the final moment that could arrive at any time.

He suddenly realized that he wasn't as averse to facing that moment as he thought. All the changes in his body were intriguing, both evolution and destruction.

Cells and genes evolved over countless years to adapt to their environment, giving birth to more complete species. However, the incompleteness of the Evol gene led to human deterioration, going in the opposite direction of evolution.

Perhaps Evol held a meaning deeper than “evolution” and “power,” a meaning that no one, including him, had yet to comprehend.

His phone vibrated suddenly, bringing the storm in his mind to an abrupt halt. The girl's name accompanied a text message that appeared before him.

“Do you have time tonight? I found a new barbecue place on Huapu Street.”

“Of course, I'll pick you up after work.”

Perhaps he shouldn't see her now; if he did, this imbalance might intensify rapidly.

But why not indulge in something that brought him happiness?

Lucien closed his eyes.

This self-observation finally introduced more significant variables.

NEXT STOP-> [S2 Chapter 51]

#first heart disease now CANCER??? pg you should stop giving this man every diseases known to human #SOO excited translating S2 ch 51 #mlqc lucien #mr love queen's choice #mlqc cn #mlqc spoiler #mlqc #mlqc translation #mr. love queen's choice #mr love lucien #mlqc xu mo

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