tubes are leaking

“I’m So Glad Your Home”

I’m starting us out with this! My first S/O, Hero x Reader! I hope you all enjoy and it gets the ball rolling!

S/O (neutral “you” used) hears 76, Reaper, Junkrat, Mercy, Pharah, Roadhog, come home from a mission. They are expecting a warm welcome but is greeted by something much different (Warning-Crying)

These are very long so they will be split into 3 parts! Two characters in each spot!! Please enjoy and cry with us all


Part Three (Last); Pharah and Roadhog


° Meditation was the only thing that eased your high tensions while she was gone. Every inch of your body craved her touch but you knew more than anyone just how important these missions are to Fareeha. So when she doesn’t call, you trust her. When she was gone for weeks, you had to trust her. Which is why you meditated, to rid yourself of the need to call her. Because you really needed to call her.

° You were into your space, deep deep into it when Fareeha walked through the door. She felt a hum leave her lips as the pain of even just walking cause her severe agony. But she simplied hummed the pain away as she quickly shed her armor, piece by piece. She sees you in the sunset’s warm glow, your beauty leaving her speechless for a moment. She had missed you so much. She wanted to rush over and hug you with bone crushing strength. To hear to laugh tickle her ears as she tickled you but the agony echoing along her flesh as she walked to you made it clear none of that would be a good decision.

° She sat down next to you, though it was slow. She breathed at a rapid pace as she finally sat down on the ground, only praying she would be able to get back up again. It seemed even her bones rebelled against her now.

° She looked out the bay window you meditated in front of, watching the sun set. She leaned her head on your shoulder but quickly sat back up straight as her muscled said no. But atleast you opened your eyes and seemed to light up like Christmas when you realized it was her who had touched you. You looked ready to pounce and in a fleeting moment of no common sense, Pharrah opened her arms wide to accept your snuggles. But she immediately regretted this decision and she lowered her arms slowly, wincing in pain.

° You look at her with a soft gaze, your pouncing postponed for a moment as Fareeha, held her breath as her arms lowered to her side and she released the breath and took quick breathes in and out of it as she tried to take control of the pain, but also because everytime she moved it felt like the wind was being knocked out of her. Fareeha looked at you and gave the saddest but still most beautiful smile to you.

° “Sorry, it just–” she took a couple fast, deep breaths before finishing, “– Really hurts…” She spoke softly, he chest rising and falling rapidly. You ask if she visited Mercy before her trekk home and of course she nodded, “Said its a broken rib, well. A couple broken things. Cracked my collar bone. Just have to take it easy for a few days until Angela can figure out some way to mend it.”

° You nod gently and lean over and kiss her on the cheek sweetly before wrapping an arm around her waist and helping her up with slow, gentle movements.

° “Come on Fareeha. Let’s start ‘taking it easy’” you tease warmly, hearing her inhale quickly as they started to walk to your shared bedroom. You help her to the bed, telling her to stand for just a moment as you prepared the bed for her. You used the pillows to help prop her up before helping her on the bed to do so. Fareeha leaned against the pillows gently and she finally felt a wash of a warm tingly feeling rush through her body. She inhaled a deep breath and exhaled it slowly.

° You wonder around the house, finding ice packs, warm patches, pain relief in all sorts of different varieties. You helped your strong soldier become as relaxed as you could. She tells you bits and pieces of the horrible mission, sparing you the hard to hear bits very deliberately. You were rubbing her feet soothingly as her head fell back against a soft pillow, her eyes closing gently. Her breathing had slowed to a relaxed speed. You watched her gently, seeing as she opened her eyes again to look at you, a trail of tears leading down one cheek, however she smiled warmly as she looked at you.

° “I’m just really glad I made it back home,” she stated as she looked at you.

° The next few days are all about healing. You would wrap Pharah’s stomach and ribs tightly with athletic tape (per instructions by Mercy) and you took time making sure she was excerising, even just a small amount around the house. Ana would visit and help nurse her daughter back to health as well, Pharah often getting scolded for each new thing she hears about Pharah’s mission that went wrong.

° Two weeks later, you finally get to pounce your girlfriend and cover her with an assault of kisses.

° Kisses Rain From Above


° When he burst through the door, your heart almost burst out of your chest as you grabbed a gun and pointed it in that direction as a way of defense. You were gonna kill the fuck outta– Oh. You lower your weapon as you see him trudge in. Mako had finally come home.

° You didn’t live together but when in between missions, Mako spent much of his time either with Junkrat or you. You thanked your lucky stars that he decided to spend his time with you instead of thay insane asylum on a peg leg. You smile at him but he seemed to be on a mission as he walked slowly through your apartment. You looked after him, confused? A little irritated that he just walked in and wasn’t even going to acknowledge you. But you let it go for now.

° You heard him rummaging through a draw. He was moving so slow. Moving things around with a large hand instead of tossing it left and right. You followed his steps quietly, trying to figure out what he was doing. When he finally found what he was looking for, you realized what he needed. You leaned against the door frame as you watched him load in a new “Hogrogen” canister into his mask and lift the mask to his face. You believed he would be better after a couple deep breathes so as you were about to open your mouth but he suddenly unloaded the canister and smashed it into the cabinet before looking for a new one. You leapt back as the old canister sputtered and spinmed before it shot out into the hallway and into the wall. Where it stayed. It wasn’t out. What was going on?

° He found a new canister and tried again to reload it, holding the mask to his and again the same effect. You could feel his frustration and irritation growing but he atleast set that canister down (while it may have been hard it wasn’t to hard to break the can). He began to do the same thing again. But as You watched on, you saw his hands shaking almost uncontrollably. He tried to load the canister but his hand shook and shook.

° You couldn’t help covering your mouth as he tried and tried to loud the canister but his hands wouldn’t stop get more and more twitchy. He stepped backwards, sitting on the ground by your bed, his hands just couldn’t stop shaking. He was about to slam this canister down as well when suddenly your hand came out of nowhere and grapes his arm tightly. You look down at him with confusion, and for some reason… Fear. Mako didn’t look up at you, hand holding his gas mask to his face, tightly. Your fingers travel down his arm to the canister in his fingers. You open his hand and grab the canister gently before leaning down in front if him.

° You insert the canister easily, twisting it and listening to it start but you can tell its not reaching the front of the mask. You listened closer before hearing a soft, very soft, hissing noise come from the mask. You untwist the canister as to not waste any of the gas inside. You look at Mako softly, able to feel the anxiety coursing through him.

° “Mako. I need to fix the tub in your mask. It has a leak. I’m going to take it, okay?” You stated cautiously, as if taking to a wounded animal. And in a way you were. You placed a hand over the one he used to hold up the mask. You looked into his eyes as your fingers ran across the skin of his large hand. “I can help. I just need it just for a second. Please,” you stated genuinely, looking at him seriously. It took a moment, in fact you believed he had already decided he wouldn’t release the mask but you keep eye contact with him. Holding his masked gaze with confidence in your eyes. Finally, surprisingly, his hand slid off his mask. You couldn’t tell if it was trust or desperation that made him do it. You turned away immediately with the mask in your hands, not taking in his face this time, knowing he trusted you to do a job and by all the angel’s in heaven and all the furies in hell

° You. Will. Get. This. Mask. Fixed.

° You slide across your tile floors as you ran into the kitchen, heading straight for the “junk” drawer and you hand to search for a moment before you pull out a large roll of thick black electrical tape. You ran back, pulling the tape out of the reel with your teeth, holding the mask in your other hand. You skid into your room to see Hog sitting, staring into space. But eyes look at you as you walk in and this is where you take him in. As your ripe the tape off with your teeth and plop on the ground in front of him. You took in all the scars on his vision first. Every one looking worse than the last you took in. You looked down from the face you wanted so desperately to see to begin wrapping the tape around the tube tightly, but not so tightly to disrupt the airway. As you lift up the tube gently to wrap the tape around the back you see something shining against the black leather. You felt a lump get stuck in your throat as you looked at it for a moment. You got a chance to see what had cut the tube and caused the leak. You shook your head and quickly took a thumb and popped out the object. A bullet slid across your tile. You pushed it out of your mind as you finished taping up the hole before quickly twisting the canister back into its place.

° You listen but no hissing of gas came out and you panic for a moment. Did you just break the fucking thing MORE? You shook your head and quickly smacked the canister with a hard fist and suddenly you heard the gas hiss and you quickly held the mask up to Mako’s face. He seemed to suddenly come back to life, his own hand covering yours as he held the mask to his face. He took a few hard deep breaths, his chest rising up and down slowly as each deep inhale seemed to bring a new wave of a life to him.

° You couldn’t believe the look of pure excitement, “I did it,” you whispered, looking at the eyes in the gas mask, smiling at him brightly, unable to believe it, you said it again, “I fucking did it, Mako!” He took a couple more deep breathes into the mask as a laugh came out. He removed the mask again, and your eyes seem to glow. He was so beautiful. He was just like you, a hard past showing on his face just like your past did to yours. He nodded, appearing to be looking at you with new eyes.

° “You did it.” He stated before he leaned down and kissed you gently. You kissed him back, softly, sweetly. A kiss of thanks. A kiss of trust. You felt something warm and wet hit your cheek. Your eyes fluttered open, not realizing you had closed them so suddenly into kiss. On single tear had fallen off of light eyelashes onto your face. He quickly wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you into his lap, knowing you had realized what had escaped his eye. Or maybe he was realizing what had fallen from his eye? You weren’t sure but the way he kissed you was different and so appreciated. So warm. So welcoming.

° It was sudden as your own tears fell from your eyes. You pulled away from the kiss to wipe your eyes quickly with the sleeve of your sweater, unable to help the water that leaked from your eyes. He looked up at you with a hint of a question in his eyes. He held you tightly in his lap with one arm and the other lifted so he could help you wipe away your tears.

° “I fucking did it,” you stated through your tears, voice shaking from the crying and he gave you a small smile. Both of you knew you didn’t mean just the mask.

Here is the latest addition to my sketching spoonie project. The model offered this description:

“When I was diagnosed with gastroparesis, at the same time I was told I would need a feeding tube. Unfortunately, my stomach doesn’t work at all – if I eat food it just sits there for days on end. I welcome the addition of the feeding tube, as it gives me some control back, but the tube isn’t the easiest thing to adjust to. Granulation tissue occurs because the body tries to constantly heal the tube site, and the site leaks making it worse. It gets so sore and it bleeds, and the pain is awful. The only treatment available to me is to cauterize it, which can sometimes make it worse, and having an open wound is always putting you at risk of infection. It is a terrible part of the tubie lifestyle, but it is a sacrifice that I have to make.”

Thank you again to everyone who has modelled and generally supported this project! If you are interested or have questions or comments, you can message me here or at my address!


I know what all the Mary Sue Litmus Tests say, how you’re supposed to view your characters as tools for getting a story across instead of people you might have emotions toward.

Spoiler alert: That’s a terrible fucking way to view them. 

If you want to write a good story, your characters need to be people. They need to have their own desires and deepest fears. You need to be able to get inside their heads and answer questions like, how do they squeeze their toothpaste out of the tube? Do they squeeze from the bottom or from the middle–or do they leave the cap off and slam their fist down on the tube that’s already leaking out onto the counter? When they get up in the morning, do they make their bed? If the answer is yes, if your character gets up in the morning and finds out that they’re late, do they make their bed anyway?

The more things you can answer, the better you’re going to know your characters. They can’t just be cut-outs, tropes, clichés, if you really want to write well. And if a character is going to be a trope, you’d best be sure you’re pulling it off, and that they’re not just a lazy version of what they could be. Motivation is one of the keys (I won’t say it’s the key, because a character can have motivation and still be two-dimensional) to a well-rounded character. If you’re writing a bitchy soccer mom, why is she that way? Was she raised to be rude to employees, or does she think that, by acting rude, she can hide her insecurity about never getting the best for her children–something her parents never really strove for? (Before someone tries to accuse me of supporting being rude to employees, it’s an example I just came up with off the top of my head, so hush.)

Not every character has to be sympathetic. But I’ll say this: It’s going to be hard to write a character who is 100% good or 100% bad, and still have them feel like people. A mindlessly evil villain is going to be boring. A perfect protagonist is going to be even more boring.

There are five questions that every author must be able to answer about his or her protagonist (and every major character, really). I’ll list them first, and then introduce each one:

  1. Who is your character?
  2. What do they want?
  3. What’s in their way?
  4. Do they get what they want?
  5. If so, how? If not, why not?

1.  The first one can be the hardest. Because it’s not some, “oh, John is a 46-year-old man with a wife and two daughters and he owns a–” No. Get out.
Who are they? Is your character a woman who’s used to getting what she wants? Or, alternately, is it more that she never gets what she wants, so she feels entitled, because she thinks the world owes her? Is your character a man who only ever sees the best in people, no matter how many times they hurt him? You have to know these kinds of things. You don’t have to write it explicitly on the page (actually, please, don’t do that), but you have to know it in your head, and you have to let it flourish in everything your character does.

2.  I find the second one to be a bit easier to answer, mostly because it’s what drives the entire story. But, like last time, this isn’t the entry-level shit. Sure, your guy might want to pull off that dangerous maneuver in his fighter jet, but is it about the plane or is it about proving himself to the pilots who call him a momma’s boy? Does this girl really want her mother to dance with her at her wedding reception as much as she wants her mother to accept that she’s just married a woman?

3.  This next one is where you start to introduce that internal/external conflict kind of stuff. What comes between your character and their goal? This one is a bit more straightforward. In school you learn about “Man vs Man,” “Man vs Environment,” “Man vs Self,” etc, and you’re expected to be able to fit every story you read in class into one box. Does the protagonist struggle with his fear of crossing bridges, OR is it the bridge that’s the problem? Few middle school teachers will bother to let you know that more than one of those things can apply to the same story, even to the same character, in the same moment. So you grow up thinking that, if you can’t sort writing into one nifty category or another, you must be doing something wrong, when the truth is–life is messy. Lifelike writing is messy.

4.  You don’t always need a black-or-white answer to this one, especially if ‘yes’ might mean that the whole story conveniently wraps up in a pretty bow just in time for the conclusion. But ‘no’ doesn’t guarantee a great story, either. And it’s okay not to be entirely sure yourself which one fits better. Just be sure that, whatever your answer, it’s reflected in your story.

5.  So long as you have thought-out answers for the first four (and they’re, you know, there in the story), this one should be a breeze. The ‘no’ might be a bit trickier, only in that you might not expect the true reason. Just try not to sweat it, try not to overthink it.

Answering these five questions is the best way to get to know your character, as well as the story in which you’ve set them. I’m not going to touch on things like physical design, because that’s not what this post is about, and things like describing your character in the context of the story will be under Point Of View. I’ll make a separate post about voice as well.

Before I go, here’s something for all you people who write fanfiction, because I’m sure you’re thinking, “well, this post doesn’t apply to me, because I’m not the one making up the characters.” A hint, if you will. A “hack.” You use those ready-made characters like little paper dolls, never getting inside their heads and making them seem like people? Your readers might applaud you (because, let’s face it, fanfiction readers aren’t there to be critical–they read the garbage I published at age 14 and said it was good shit), but you’ve completely ignored what it means to write. I get it–it’s easier to say to your readers, “well, you know who they are already, because you’ve watched all seventy-five seasons of Supernatural, so I’m just going to jump right in on my self-indulgent smut.” But you have to be able to answer those character questions, both from the canon and from your story alone, if you want to hold yourself to the same standard as people who make up everything themselves.

anonymous asked:

Vi was running a slightly different route through the woods as usual, resulting in her getting a little lost. After fending off some monsters, she found an old laboratory. Her curosity won against her common sense and she entered, to find it completely deserted except for a test tube that was glowing strangely pink. She began to hack the Controls, opening the tube, (@vivalkonen)

*soon the slime leaked out and turned into a puddle and soon the slime turned into a girl with big breasts a hourglass shape body and a big butt* “thanks for saving me

Artrix did not think his fashion choice through when he decided to cut up his outfit after he died. Yeah that’s right, he did that himself. He died of electric shock on his stage when he was performing one night. He was a very popular DJ by the name of Casper but his stage name was DJ Artrix. For a summer festival he put on a big ass show with water works but a tube broke and leaked onto his equipment. And since he was barefoot, it just acted as a quick current right to his heart. 

He suffers from ADHD and sometimes can’t put his words into coherent sentences because he talks so fast and his words get all jumbled. He uses music most of the time to express his feelings so he likes to give people mixtapes. Ainsley offered him medicine but he refused it, claiming it slowed him down too much. 

Now he’s back with his babe, Maxwell, and all is well. 

The Client

Written for the prompt:
“Cas’ car breaks down so he takes it to Bobby’s garage for repairs. Dean is the one who works on the car…”
taken from here with a kind permission of amazing @destieldrabblesdaily.

3.5k, AO3 version here.

“Lincoln Continental Mark V,” Bobby said, handing Dean the keys.

The name itself made Dean wince; the car should have been no better, not with its age and make. He did not have a clue why would someone want to repair it.

“The client’s waiting outside,” Bobby added. “Wants to kiss his treasure goodbye.”

He was, indeed. A man in a black Walmart suit, standing beside the light-brown Lincoln with a solemn look of an orphan near a fresh grave. Dean could see just his messy dark hair and back, straight as a billboard. Even through the rusty blinds of Bobby’s office, his first thought was that the client and the car were worth each other.

“He wants us to bury it, uh?”

“He wants its brakes fixed, you idjit,” Bobby snapped, and Dean smirked at a sudden guess that a fancy funeral had already been offered.

“Okay, Bobby,” he said. “The grandpa’ll get a helluva treatment here. I’ll see to it”.

Keep reading

I’ve always sympathized with women going through their periods because it sounds uncomfortable and painful but since my surgical tubes drains are leaking and I’m constantly getting blood running down my leg and ruining my underpants so I really feel y'all now