#Prompt: I Think I'll Just Collapse Right Here Thanks

[bullet-prooflove]

Can i get a litle something for chibs? With the prompt 'I'll be the one you won't forget' thank you 🥰

No Words (NSFW) - You and Chibs don't need words to express how you feel.

Moment (NSFW) - Chibs gets lost in the moment.

His - There's no doubt in Chib's mind that you belong to him.

Different - Things are different with you.

In the time leading up to your divorce you try to forget about Filip. You’re in the fight for you’re life with your husband, it’s a constant battles of wills and intimidation tactics. You don’t have the time or the energy for another man in your life. You make that clear after the first night you sleep with him.

“Trust me love, I’m not looking for anything complicated.”  He tells you when you share a joint out on the loading dock.

It stings a little but it’s true. Your life right now it’s messy. You may have emotionally detached from your husband years ago but he certainly hasn’t detached from you. He’s still calling, still driving by your workplace, still contesting the divorce.

“Yea, I got enough complicated in my life right now.” You say as you blow a smoke ring out of your mouth.

You end up fucking him in the garage, pencil skirt hiked up your thighs as he takes you on the hood of a stranger’s car.

“He could never make you come like this could he?” He murmurs into the curve of your throat at the height of climax. “He could never get you off the way that I do.”

You bite down into the leather of his kutte to suppress the moan that escapes your lips as you come.

It’s later that night that you find yourself in bed with a newly acquired toy. It’s a wand, one you bought for yourself after you’d filed the divorce papers. It’s the first one you’ve owned because your ex didn’t want competition in the bedroom.

You close your eyes and you think Filip, about the rough lilt of his voice, the softness of his touch, the heat, the teasing. When you hit that high, you’re loud, the loudest that you’ve ever been on your own and you know that’s due to your subject matter.

You collapse back into the pillows, your cheeks flushed and body relaxed. There isn’t a chance in hell you can ever forget about Filip Telford, not with the things he does to you.

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Tagged: @kmc1989 @anime-weeb-4-life @chaoticqueenie98 @thatonesexycancerian @fanfic-n-tabulous @kishie8 @skyesthebomb @nu1freakshow @jtelford @deliriousfangirl61 @darqchilddaydreamz @ankhmutes @goblinenby @just-a-girl-who-wrytes @adaydreamaway08 @keyweegirlie @oklahomapeach @fleureeee @goosterroose @trublu2u @@legally-a-bastard @wnbweasley @justreblogginfics @multiflixshelves @fanfic-n-tabulous @just-a-throw-away @yousigned-upforthis @fangirling-and-lovin-it thekirbishow @laribombarie @pansexualhailstorm @@elixae @buckysteveloki-me

#chibs telford #chibs sons of anarchy #soa chibs #chibs x reader #chibs imagine #sons of anarchy fanfiction #tommy flanagan #filip chibs telford #filip telford #filip telford x reader #filip telford x you

[mcflymemes]

ASSASSIN'S CREED III PROMPTS *  assorted dialogue from the video game, adjust as necessary

we never took them seriously. maybe we should have.

i'm getting ahead of myself.

we've been fighting them for thousands of years.

i've seen the truth.

it holds the power to change everything.

there's only so much we can do.

if we can't find a way to stop it, these next few weeks will probably be our last.

it worked. we think. we hope.

we're here. let's go.

you must find the key.

here we go again.

do you hear us?

you collapsed and entered into a fugue state.

you weren't in any danger.

i know what i'm looking for, by the way. it's a key.

i'd like to run a couple of quick tests.

have you seen it before?

my father brought me here as a child.

on to business then.

the stairs are watched. you'll need to find another way up.

you should have come to me.

for what it's worth, i'm sorry.

that's why we've called you here.

i am yours to command.

well, then i'd best be on my way.

my research has been stolen. without it, i'm of no use to you.

i'll see if i can't speed things up.

we need to find a way inside.

i believe i've found the solution to our problem.

we'll attack on my signal.

i made a promise to you, [name], one i intend to keep.

the sooner we're done, the sooner we can get out of this cold.

it does not engender peace to cut your way to resolution.

if we applied the sword more liberally and more often, the world would be a better place than it is today.

now i've upheld my part of the bargain, i expect that you will honor yours?

you seem disappointed.

you have shown me great kindness, [name]. thank you.

really? that's your response? it's like dealing with a six year old.

i sense my words cause pain.

do you even know what that symbol represents?

come on. i've got something to show you.

very well. i'll train you.

you're also going to need a new name.

what's true and what is aren't always the same.

you'll be happy to hear there's actually good news for once.

it's silly for us to go back and forth like this.

we cannot give up our home.

do you have a name? do you know who is responsible?

time will tell if you speak the truth.

why are you here? has something happened?

you should have heeded my warning.

perhaps you'll respond better to the sword.

are you threatening us?

i thought it might bring clarity or instill a sense of accomplishment. but all i feel is regret.

such sacrifices must never come lightly.

all of them must be dealt with in turn.

you speak the words, but do you believe them?

takes a true monster to do something like this.

every day i wait, more will suffer.

many who should've died today now live because of you.

we do the best we can with what we've got.

you wield your blade like a man, but your mouth like a child.

there are more important things at stake here.

i do what is right. no more. no less.

i don't even see a stall in here. what if i had to take a dump?

please just mute the microphone if you do.

life is not a fairy tale, and there are no happy endings.

in your haste to save the world, take care you don't destroy it!

our interests are aligned.

perhaps some time together might do us good.

i can kill you now if you prefer.

would you like me to come along and hold your hand, perhaps?

why the change of heart? where is this coming from?

you oppose tyranny. injustice. these are just symptoms. their true cause is human weakness.

you have said so much... but you have shown me nothing.

tell me of your latest exploits.

you have not come this far to throw it all away over misplaced sentiment.

there is nothing more to discuss.

i should have stayed.

now you must hide it.

what once was shall be again.

#rp meme #rp memes #roleplay memes #rp prompt #rp starters #roleplay prompt #ask meme #ask memes #roleplay meme #writing prompts #writing prompt #rp asks #askbox meme #roleplay inbox prompts #rp inbox meme #inbox prompt #inbox meme #sentence starter #sentence starters #sentence starter prompt #mcflymemes #assassin's creed #i watched the entire playthrough to get these quotes.... #so don't leave this hanging

[massivedrickhead]

OMG HI HAPPY 2024!! missed your one shots

Anyway, how about prompt #14? Don’t have anything in mind but I know you’re gonna crush it, u always do🫶

Sorry this took so long for me to get to!

I've moved away from the bechloe & Sarah au, and I'll likely be sticking with just doing separate prompts at least until my inbox is cleared, as I can't think of a way to make these ones fit that au.

We're back with a little sprinkling of angst now, so I hope you like it!

14. “I don’t want you to be alone right now.”

Prompt taken from here.

Read on AO3

-

“Bec?”

Chloe’s voice was unexpected, and it caused Beca to snap out of her spiralling thoughts and face the doorway.

“Hey,” Beca said. Her voice was rough and tired, and she cleared her throat before she spoke again. “You didn’t have to come.”

Chloe shook her head as she took a seat in the chair at Beca’s bedside. “I’m still your emergency contact, of course I did. You shouldn’t be by yourself right now.”

Beca could see the concern in her ex-girlfriend’s eyes. Could see the tears that were shimmering in them, along with the barely contained panic. 

Chloe needed to be there as much as Beca needed her there. 

“Thank you,” Beca said. There was much more she wanted to say - much more she needed to say - but she didn’t have the energy to try and summon the words. The room was quiet, save for the repetitive beeps of Beca’s heart monitor, and all she wanted to do was close her eyes and sleep. 

“They said you collapsed?” Chloe asked.

“Yeah,” Beca said. “Right in the middle of the office, so that’s fun for me.”

“No one came to the hospital with you?”

Beca scoffed. “It’s crunch time, I’m surprised they stopped for long enough to call an ambulance.”

They were silent for a little while before Chloe spoke up again. “Beca, are… are you sick again?”

Beca swiped her tongue across her chapped lips and cleared her throat again. “Yeah.”

“That’s why you ended things,” Chloe said, finally getting the answer to the question that had been plaguing her for months. She felt her throat get tight but she told herself she wouldn’t cry. 

“It was so hard for you last time,” Beca said. “Taking care of me took so much out of you and I didn’t want to have to put you through it again. It’s… worse this time. The prognosis is worse and the treatment is going to be more intense. I couldn’t ask you to stick around and take care of me again.”

Chloe let out a shaky breath and furiously blinked away tears. “That should have been my decision to make,” she said. 

“And I didn’t want you to have to make it,” Beca said. “I’m trying to protect you.”

“You can’t protect me from this,” Chloe said. “It’s too late, I’m already in love with you.”

“Chloe-”

“No,” Chloe said, “whatever you’re going to say, save it. I’m… God, Beca, I’m so mad at you. I’ve been confused and heartbroken for months, trying to figure out what I did wrong, and you’ve… You’ve been sick and alone.”

“It’s too much to ask you to take this on again,” Beca said, her head starting to hurt. “I can manage on my own, and you can have a full life.”

“I don’t want a life without you in it.”

“Well you’re shit out of luck then,” Beca snapped. “Because whether we’re together or not, mine is probably going to be a hell of a lot shorter than yours. You’re going to have to get used to me not being in your life eventually.”

It hit Chloe right in the chest, and she squeezed her eyes shut in a failed attempt to keep her tears at bay. 

“I’m sorry,” Beca said, the anger gone from her voice now. “I’m sorry, I’m just… I’m tired. I’m tired and I don’t know what to do.”

Chloe quickly wiped her eyes and took hold of Beca’s hand. “I’m sorry too,” she said. “Please don’t push me away, Beca. I know it’s going to be hard, but I want to be with you, for however much time we have left. Whether it’s ten months or ten years, I want to spend them with you.”

“I’m too tired to keep fighting you on this,” Beca said. “I don’t have it in me.”

“Then don’t fight me,” Chloe said. “Beca, if you think I’m capable of walking away from you right now then you don’t know me at all. I told you all those years ago that I am in this with you, and I’m telling you the same thing now.”

“Okay,” Beca said after a long pause. She sounded tired, but also relieved. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” Chloe said. “So much.”

“I’m so tired. It’s… it’s been really hard,” Beca said. Tears slipped out of her eyes and down her cheeks. 

“I know,” Chloe said. She moved closer to the bed so she could brush the hair from Beca’s face. “I wish you’d called me, I wish I’d known about this sooner, but I’m here now. I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.”

They sat in silence for a little while longer while they waited for Beca’s doctor. It didn’t take long for her to fall asleep, and when she did Chloe finally let out the tears she’d been holding in. 

Taking care of Beca the last time she’d been sick had been hard for both of them, and she couldn’t imagine how much harder it was about to get. But she meant what she said, and she wouldn’t be going anywhere. She would be by Beca’s side no matter what. 

It was early evening when Beca’s doctor finally came by to see them. She’d been dozing on and off for the best part of an hour and was starting to feel restless. 

“Okay Beca,” he said, reading her chart when he entered the room. “We’ve got your results back and you’re good to go.” He looked up and spotted Chloe. “Oh, hello Chloe. I didn’t expect to see you.” He looked back at Beca. “You finally told her then?”

“Yeah,” Beca said, glancing at Chloe who squeezed her hand in response. 

“Good, because this whole trying to do everything on your own and running yourself ragged isn’t going to work anymore,” he said. “You need to rest, eat well, drink water, and come to all of your appointments.”

“She will,” Chloe said. “Is that why she collapsed?”

“In a nutshell, yes,” he said. “Dehydration, low blood sugar, etc. You can’t keep going the way you’ve been going. Looking after yourself is your full-time job now, do you hear?”

“Sure,” Beca said, knowing it wasn’t really as simple as that. “I hear you. So I can go home?”

“You can go home,” he said. He looked at Chloe. “Rest, food, water, appointments.”

“Understood,” Chloe said. “I’ll keep on top of it.”

“This is why I didn’t tell you,” Beca muttered as a nurse began removing her IV. “I feel like I’m getting told off by a teacher.”

“I mean technically you are,” Chloe said with a small smirk. “I am a teacher, I’m just not yours.”

Her legs were still shaky as she got off the bed, and she took hold of Chloe’s arm when she offered it. 

“Thanks,” she said.

“Let’s get you home. What do you want for dinner?”

“I’m not really hung-”

“Did you listen to any of what the doctor just said?”

“Sorry,” Beca said with a sigh. “I feel kinda nauseous still.”

It was Chloe’s turn to sigh now, though it wasn’t out of frustration. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I know you aren’t trying to be difficult. How about that chicken noodle soup I used to make?”

“Yeah,” Beca said. “That sounds good. Thank you.”

They made their way back to Chloe’s car, and she cranked up the heat as soon as she turned on the engine, hoping to stop Beca from shivering.

“Where do you want to go, your place or mine?” Chloe asked.

Beca thought about her untidy apartment, the one she’d moved into after she ended things with Chloe. It was cold, in a fairly bad neighbourhood, and was only partially furnished.

She thought back to the home she’d once shared with Chloe and her heart ached for it. 

Beca opened her mouth to answer but closed it again.

She knew what she wanted. She knew where she wanted to go, and who she wanted to be with, but she stopped herself. She didn’t even know what they were yet. They loved each other, sure, but was that enough to repair the damage she’d done? Chloe said she’d look after her, but that wasn’t the same thing as being in a relationship again.

“Bec?”

“You don’t have to do this,” Beca said, feeling like a broken record but also feeling like she couldn’t not say it. 

“Beca,” Chloe said with a sigh. “I thought we’d moved past this.”

“I hurt you,” Beca said. “I know that. I don’t want you to feel like you can’t be mad, or that you’ve got no choice but to stick around, just because I’m sick.”

“Do you want me to be here?”

“Yes,” Beca said, “but-”

“Do you want to get back together?”

“More than anything.”

“Then why are we still talking about this?” Chloe asked, feeling exasperated but also slightly panicked. She just got Beca back in her life, and she was terrified about what would happen if she couldn’t talk her back from the ledge.

“Because I don’t deserve it,” Beca said. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness or kindness. I don’t deserve you.”

“So I get punished because you feel guilty? I have to be without the woman I love because you think you don’t deserve me? Yes, Beca, you hurt me and I was mad, but not mad enough that I wouldn’t want to be with you. You’re acting like I’m some kind of saint. Like I’m doing all of this out of the goodness of my heart, but it isn’t that at all.”

“Then what is it?”

“I’m in love with you, and I want to be with the person I love,” Chloe said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I want to take care of you and help you get better because I want to be with you. I’m not doing this out of guilt or a sense of obligation. I don’t know how many more times you need me to say that I’m here because I want to be here.”

“Maybe just one more time?” Beca asked, causing a smile to finally break across Chloe’s face.

“I love you,” Chloe said, cupping Beca’s face in her hand. “We’ve already wasted too much time being apart. I don’t want to waste anymore.”

Beca swallowed and closed her eyes, her forehead coming to rest against Chloe’s.

“I love you too,” she said. “And I’m sorry. For everything.”

“I know,” Chloe said, pressing a soft kiss against her forehead. “I’ll ask again, where do you want to go?”

“Can… Can I come home?”

Chloe’s smile grew. “I would really, really like that.”

#bechloe #pitch perfect fanfiction #pitch perfect fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #beca mitchell #chloe beale #pitch perfect #beca #chloe #bechloe fanfic #bechloe fic #pitch perfect fic #bechloe prompt #prompt #no matter the timeline

[scoundrels-in-love]

"sharing a bed used to be quite normal for us, when did that change?" vashmeryl >:3c

Thank you for prompting, lovely. Sorry it took so long and I still have the other two prompts to get to!

You can also find this on AO3.

----

The girl at reception mistakes them for a couple and, for cover reasons, Meryl plays into it, clutching to his hand and calling him darling while she scrambles to come up with fake names for both of them. His fingers wrap around (engulf) hers tentatively after she tugs on his hand a little sharply and mouths 'play along' when the receptionist looks at the screen and there are still red spots high on his cheeks when they finally escape the lobby and up the stairs, toward their room.

It's her turn to blush when she realizes how small the bed she's booked for both of them really is. 

"I'll take the chair," Vash immediately offers, but she can picture just how bad of a backpain that'd get him.

"We used to share a bed all the time, no reason to make a fuss about it now," she says like a liar. Like she doesn't have her heart in her throat, thinking of laying so close to him that their hands would surely touch.

"But–" "The only butt I'll be accepting is yours in the bed," she interrupts him, one hand on her hip and the other pointing at said furniture. It takes a second for his grin to break through the nervous, fretting expression Vash has been wearing since they entered the room.

"That was a really bad one, Mer," he says, stifling a giggle, as if they were still ten and easily sent into fits of laughter by someone saying butt or fart.

"I know," Meryl has to clamp her hand over her mouth to muffle her own laughter. It's unreasonable and stupid and easy, as if all the adrenaline from being chased, shot at and shooting at people (finding her long lost best friend and that he's the infamous criminal she's been trying to track down), is finally releasing itself in fit of stupid amusement that she has no control over.

As if more than a decade hasn't passed and they've not become different people. People that are essentially strangers.

But his laughter sounds the same as it was and when she snorts, trying to snuffle hers, he bows over with a wheeze just as he used to, and so she laughs with Vash until they both collapse on the bed, clutching their sides. There is a blur of tears in her eyes and Meryl pretends it is only because of this, not an aching, overwhelmed and yet empty space in her chest. 

How often has she tried to picture his face, transformed by adulthood? (Nevermind that she'd failed to picture him quite so handsome.) How often she's imagined flinging herself at him, hugging him, brushing fingers over his features, the little birthmark by his eye? Like he is a treasure she is trying to reacquaint herself with.

Most of all, just bringing him back into her orbit as she had the day she'd defended him on the playground and making sure he can never disappear again. And now he is here, but she doesn't know how to reach for him.

Worse yet - if he'd want her to.

Though that thought never stopped her from chasing after mere reflection of Vash's shadow. 

"I'll go wash up," Meryl announces before she does something silly and vulnerable and rolls away from him, almost falling out of the bed in the process. She would have, really, if he hadn't grabbed onto the back of her shirt and pulled her back so easily as if she weighs nothing. Though this is hardly the most impressive show of his strength she's witnessed today, it still makes her breath hitch.

For a second, they're both still, Vash's hot hand curled between her shoulder blades (God, his hands really are so large). Her heart hammers in her chest for more reasons than she can catalog right now. He pulls away then, as if he's been singed and she mutters thanks before hurrying to the bathroom.

It's better than some she's had to use over the years and Meryl's thankful for the chance of a quick shower, trying to put her thoughts in order under the hot streams of water. She's come to some semblance of a battle plan by the time she emerges from the bathroom, drowning in her sleep t-shirt. Vash's eyes linger on her and she's about to snap or blush, or both, before she realizes that he's looking at the print - name of their favorite band. Or what used to be their favorite - she's got no idea what he likes now.

"Saw them live four years ago," she says casually, as if she hadn't cried several times about it, about how it felt like betrayal of their friendship because they'd sworn they'd go together.

"Nice, you'll have to tell me all about that," he smiles, seemingly deceived by her fake ease, and moves toward the bathroom.

She moves before she realizes, grabbing onto his wrist. His left one that is decidedly not of flesh and bone, now that she's touched it through the glove she's sure of it, and her stomach lurches unpleasantly. Since when and why? It must have hurt so bad, did he have anyone to hold him and tell him stupid stories while he healed?

He is frozen midstep, mid casual smile that is cracking at the edges. There's tension as if he's expecting a hit, but she only holds him tighter.

"I can only tell if you stay," she says and here it is - the stupid, vulnerable thing she'd been afraid of.

Vash looks at her, truly and well, like he hasn't since he realized it is her. Even dulled by the orange tint of his glasses, the blue is so piercing and she's missed it so much, trying and failing to find the unique shade anywhere else.

"Promise me," Meryl asks and internally winces when it sounds like a demand, ultimatum, edged in plea. Promise me you won't disappear in the middle of the night, that I won't have to wonder if seeing you was a dream, that you won't leave me without as much as goodbye again because I don't know if I will piece myself together after without becoming cruel.

"It's middle of the night, Meryl, where would I even go?" He smiles at her and she knows it for empty deflection. It's the smile he'd give adults when they asked too many questions, when someone would push him over and his knee would bleed and he'd swear he just tripped and, really, it's fine. It's more polished now and it cuts deeply he'd turn it toward her.

"Wherever it is, I will find you," she swears and the spark of Vash's eyes tells her he is aware she means it. Satisfied with that, she lets him go and brushes past him to get comfortable in the bed.

Meryl is too wound up to fall asleep even though she can sense exhaustion like the shadow of a massive beast not yet breaching the surface. She listens to the noises from the bathroom, reassuring herself he isn't somehow magically vanishing into the night despite there being only one exit, counts the cracks in the ceiling and shifts in the bed constantly.

When she's starting to think he's purposely dragging it out, she hears the door open and fall shut quietly and Vash pad over to the bed.

"I'm still awake," Meryl informs him, "no need to sneak about."

"Ah, because of the lamps, right? You should have turned the lights off." Vash has a slight furrow between his brows as he slips beneath the blanket and glances at her and Meryl hopes so very deeply her heart's backward somersault doesn't reflect on her face. How stupid, to be seized by such sharp joy that he'd remember how she can't sleep with bright lights on.

"Good night, Vash," she says instead and turns the lamp off. Or tries to. First she turns on a couple more overhead lights instead because there are too many identical switches by the bed. It takes their combined efforts to figure them all out, but at least by the time the room sinks into darkness, some of the tension between them seems to have dissipated. She’s not even had time to overthink the way his dark underclothes cling to him or the sheen of his prosthetic, which, she thinks - it can’t be good to sleep with that on, right?

"Good night, Mer." His voice is soft and for a second, she wishes they'd be closer still, so she could feel his exhale ghost over her skin. Or maybe that she was braver and could reach for him, find his mouth and taste his surprise. It'd not be her first kiss, though she'd once promised herself it'd be his, just when her protective, adoring friendship had started to teeter into something more , mere months before he'd disappeared. That one had been claimed by some boy back in college when her friends had urged her to stop being hung up on some guy she’s not seen in years and at least give dating a try. She thinks this one wouldn't leave her so unimpressed and bored, though. She thinks she just might not have enough of Vash, if only he'd let her, want her -

Meryl exhales through her nose. It's all a silly fantasy, based on too many romance novels and remnants of a childhood crush. The reality is that they haven't seen each other in years, that Vash is the Stampede, a vigilante at best and dangerous criminal at worst, that there is something odd and broken and badly healed about him now more than ever, that… That his eyes still shine dimly in the dark like will-o'-the-wisps and crinkle at the corners when he smiles as she hums for him as she did when they were six and ten and thirteen and they could not sleep.

And for that moment, as sleep slowly starts to drag her under, she thinks how little some things change after all, how time melts like sugar and how she's just Meryl, sharing bed with her best friend. Comfortable, safe. In a way that she's never been before or after him.

#trigun #trigun stampede #vashmeryl #my fic #rainy writes stuff

[pigeonwhumps]

Villain whumpee au: part 1

Immortal Cannon Fodder masterlist

Taglist: @extrabitterbrain @wolfeyedwitch

Inspired by this prompt [which I can't find rn but it's about a villain being passed around hero teams, until eventually caretaker finds their scars – lmk if you see it/know it, the search on here is terrible].

After years of being passed around various hero teams while on 'parole', Farai ends up with Phoenix, Aaron, Kai, Santhiya, and Rhian. How she's been treated, both then and now, is an adjustment for all of them.

2.1k

CWs: past abuse, expectation of punishment, overwork

Farai pulls the plate out of the dishwasher, gives it a quick wipe with the teatowel before stacking it in the drawer. Nearly finished.

And then she just needs to do the rest of the kitchen.

She's so tired she thinks she might fall asleep right here, but she has to do this. It must be the reason she's here, to do the hero team's chores, because they haven't punished her yet. If she was just here to be hurt they'd have started by now.

It's not fair. They're trying their best, and all anyone does is hurt them and set them near-impossible tasks. If they weren't on parole they'd have given up by now.

"Um. Hey."

Farai spins around, bowl in hand. One of the hero team is standing there in Star Wars pyjamas and a dark hoodie, red, pink and white hair slightly frizzy around a tired face as they fidget. Farai dips her head quickly.

"Hello. Sir."

"Don't call me that. And, um, you don't need to bow either. I'm just Phoenix."

"Sorry Phoenix."

"It's okay. You, um, you must be Farai, right?'

"Yes."

"Great. Because, um, I need to talk to you. You've been doing all the chores, right? I keep, um, hearing someone in here at night, and then in the morning everything's sparkling. And you, um, you seem like you might."

Farai swallows and nods, heart in her throat. Is it a bad thing that she's doing this? Is Phoenix going to punish her? If she shouldn't be doing this, why is she here?

"I'm, um, I'm not going to punish you. I'm just, um, worried that you're going to collapse. Because you're spending all night doing this and I doubt you sleep much during the day and, um, that's what happened to me. I collapsed. Took a long time to recover. You need to stop before that happens to you."

Farai looks at Phoenix nervously. They don't– they– what are they playing at? Are they trying to get them in trouble?

"At least, um, let me help. I know what it's like to, um, to feel like you have to do everything. And to actually have to do it all. And I, um, I don't want you to feel like that. Please?"

Farai eyes them warily. They can't refuse, not really, but they don't trust this.

"Why?"

"I told you. I, um, I know how it feels. And I wouldn't wish that on you."

"Don't lie to me. Nobody ever wants to help."

Phoenix comes further into the room. "I'm not lying. This team were pretty much the first people to, um, accept me. Ever. And, um, I don't want you to end up doing what I did. Let me help you with something."

Farai eyes them warily. They don't trust them. Despite the way they look so earnest and awkward, Farai doesn't quite believe them. As they said, no-one ever wants to help, and they don't see why that would change.

They nod sharply anyway, hands shaking, because they realise that Phoenix won't give up until they can help.

"Thank you."

They step forward, crouching down beside Farai. "You, um, unload, and I'll dry and put them away?"

Farai nods, and passes the bowl to Phoenix.

The job goes smoothly for a while, and Farai almost starts to relax a little. Phoenix is doing exactly what they said they'd do, with no impossible expectations. Not yet, at any rate.

Then it happens. Farai fucks it up. She's handed the last mug to Phoenix, and she's just got to her feet, starting to take the couple of steps towards her canes leaning against the wall, when she stumbles, vision going momentarily, room tilting around them, and they collapse to the floor at Phoenix's feet.

"Farai? What's wrong?"

Farai tries to form words but they only manage a groan. Phoenix eases them to lean against the cupboard.

"I'm going to fetch Aaron, okay? I'll, um, I'll be back in just a minute, I promise."

Phoenix squeezes their shoulder and rushes out.

Farai pushes herself up, attempting to sit to attention, but she just falls back. She's too weak to sit up on her own.

It's not long before Phoenix returns, a dark-skinned man with glasses and hair held in a colourful silk wrap in toe. He has kind eyes, and a first aid kit in one hand even though he's clearly just been woken up.

Phoenix sinks back down beside Farai, and the man who must be Aaron gives them a small, crinkly-eyed smile.

"Hi. I'm Aaron, he/they. You must be Farai. Can you tell me what's wrong? What happened?"

Farai swallows nervously. "I collapsed, sir. My canes were further away than I thought when I tried to fetch them. My vision went, the world tilted, and I stumbled and fell."

"No sirs. Can you stand now?"

"Not at all."

"Want me to fetch your canes?" murmurs Phoenix. Farai shakes her head. She's okay, she can't stand anyway, and she wants Phoenix here.

Aaron nods, unzipping his bag. "I'll do some quick checks on your heartrate, blood pressure and blood sugar to make sure, it could be something else, but when was the last time you ate, slept or drank?"

Farai falters. "I– um–"

Phoenix squeezes their arm. "You're, um, allowed to eat. And drink and sleep. I thought you weren't sleeping, I didn't, um, realise it had gotten so bad already."

"It's okay," Farai murmurs. And it really is. Phoenix is trying, that's more than anyone's done for them in years.

"Hold out your finger. It'll just be a small prick." Farai obeys, looking away but barely noticing the needle. "Right. I'm going to need you to take off your jumper, Farai, so I can have a bare arm to take your blood pressure. I'll be quick."

Farai swallows. She really, really doesn't want to do that. She can't. She's not allowed to show her scars to others, she'll be in trouble, she–

"I'll, um, I'll do it first, if you want, for, um, moral support," offers Phoenix nervously. Nervously? What does Phoenix have to be nervous about? Still, she nods, and watches as they pull off their hoodie, eyes on the floor.

Their arms are covered in scars. Cuts, burns, handprint-shaped burns. The low neck of their top exposes the end of a lash on their collarbone.

What the hell happened to them?

"I have camouflage powers. It, um, took me months to show these. No-one here's given me any grief over them. I don't, um, know why you're nervous, but it's okay."

Farai swallows. She doesn't think anyone here knows about the scars, they're just being nice to her, they think she's just self-conscious, what will they say if they see? She's not Phoenix. She's a villain and not a very well-liked or respected one at that, so there's nothing to say that people won't be mean to her about her scars.

"Your blood sugar's low, as I suspected. I really do need to take your blood pressure and check your heart rate. There's no rush, take your time. I want to work something out with regards to your medication anyway, if you're agreeable to altering that."

Farai nods. She has to be. She squeezes her eyes shut to avoid seeing Phoenix and Aaron's reactions and pulls off her fleecy jumper, rolling up the long-sleeved top on one arm as well, right up to the shoulder.

She hears a small, hastily-stifled gasp, but she's not sure who it comes from.

"Farai..."

That's definitely Phoenix. They sound pained and upset, and Farai opens their eyes, confused. Phoenix looks upset too. Aaron's brow's furrowed in concern.

No-one's looked at them that way in years.

And that's when Farai notices something.

She holds her arm up beside Phoenix's. The handprints match.

"You're not the only one who's been scarred by heroes," says Phoenix, quietly.

Farai frowns even more at this.

"But– you weren't a villain, were you? Why would they hurt you?"

"I'm immortal. My old team took advantage of that."

Farai finds Phoenix's hand. "I'm sorry."

"Not your fault."

"Still." She looks at Aaron, gulping, knowing she needs to be ready for what he's about to do before they chicken out and run off to hide. He smiles.

"Right. This is going to squeeze a bit, but don't panic." Aaron wraps the blood pressure cuff around Farai's upper arm and starts it going. Farai's breath picks up a little as it squeezes tighter and tighter, a little painful, before it releases. Aaron looks at the reader before he gathers it up.

"Hmm. If you don't mind me asking, are those scars from when you were still a villain or later?"

"Later," whispers Farai. Aaron nods. Phoenix closes their eyes for a second.

"I'm sorry. You're on parole, you shouldn't have been hurt like that. Not that it would be alright anyway, but especially not now. I'm going to check your heart, it'll feel a bit cold."

Farai nods, pulling her top down and sitting completely still as Aaron holds the end of the stethoscope to her chest. She's already cold, but she shudders as the metal touches her.

"Alright, you can sort your clothes out again now."

Farai rolls down her sleeve and pulls her jumper over her head, snuggling down into it. That's much better.

Phoenix watches them for a minute before saying quietly, "It's not just hiding. You get cold easily, don't you?" Farai nods. "I'm going to get you a scarf later."

And, well. Farai can't process that. They're not used to people caring. If anyone notices anything they usually make it worse out of spite or cruelty.

They hope Phoenix is telling the truth.

"Right. Your blood pressure's a little raised, and so is your heart rate. I suspect your heart rate is nerves, and you desperately need something to eat. And to sleep. Have you eaten since the pizza on your first night?"

Farai shakes her head. "Didn't know I was allowed."

"You're always allowed food."

Farai looks down, a lump in her throat. Aaron says it like it's obvious, guaranteed, when it hasn't been so in such a long time.

Phoenix nudges their shoulder and they look up to see them smiling gently.

"I'll fetch you something. What would you like to eat?"

"I get a choice?" she asks, before she can stop herself.

"Provided we have it, yeah."

Farai nods. "Coco pops?" she asks hopefully. They're easy to eat and it's been a long time since she last had them.

"Yep. You, um, you sit down at the table, I'll fetch you some. Aaron, do you, um, want anything?"

"I'll have a banana." He pushes himself to his feet and grabs Farai's canes, holding out his other hand. She flinches but it appears they just want her to take it, so she does so cautiously. He pulls them upright, steadying them as they wobble.

"Do you think you can walk?" Farai shrugs. "Okay. Well, take both your canes, and I'll help you too."

Farai does as Aaron says, and they stick an arm under her shoulders as well, supporting them. It's a bit awkward but it keeps them upright, allows them to put one foot in front of the other until they collapse at the table.

"Here you are," says Phoenix with a smile and a flourish. "Coco pops and a banana. And some, um, some jaffa cakes for me. Which I am, um, going to eat the proper way, thank you very much, Aaron."

Aaron chuckles and shakes their head. "You and your jaffa cake eating."

Farai brings a small spoonful to their mouth tentatively, and when no-one stops them practically inhales the rest.

"Hey, careful, you'll be sick," warns Aaron. Farai swallows the last of the cereal.

"Sorry, sir."

"It's okay. You'll get the hang of it. And it's Aaron, not sir."

"Sorry, s– sorry."

Aaron nods.

They eat in silence for a while, before Phoenix opens their mouth, then closes it. Then they say hesitantly, "I heard that you, um, had lots of tattoos. What– I mean, do you, um, not have any on your arm?"

And that's too much. After everything, after all the unexpected kindness, and then– to ask this? That she remembers so vividly, so painfully, because they did it in several harsh sessions, without any pain relief, and so much has happened since but nothing quite as bad as that. Nothing that hurt so much. Nothing quite so personal, so intimate, so callous. It's not like she could've used them, anyway.

Farai can't help it. She bursts into tears.

#whump #whump writing #immortal cannon fodder #farai oc #phoenix oc #aaron oc #villain whump #villain whumpee #hero caretaker #past hero whump #hero and villain #multiple caretakers #whumpee turned caretaker #disabled whumpee #disabled character #lady whump

[dixonlvr-online]

No exit plan

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Warnings: Story is characters running from zombies

Genre: Angst

Challenge: I'll be right behind you @whumptober / Truth or dare/20 questions / "Yes. No. I don't know."

A/N: If you're interested, I also wrote a Truth or dare inspired fic not too long ago :)

No time to think, just run.

You and Daryl had thought everything was under control- it was, in the beginning. You’d managed to take down a dozen walkers between you, but as soon as you were ready to collapse and thank God for making it another day, a fresh wave had come in.

Now you were running. You’d been scavenging an abandoned high school, assuming it would have a stockpile of resources you could use. You’d been right on that front, but you hadn’t accounted for the people who’d been using those resources, who were now the undead.

The hallways stretched on and on, the two of you taking sharp turns where you could in an attempt to lose the herd. You were gasping for breath, the weight of your stocked pack heavy on your shoulders. Daryl gestured for you to hand him the pack, but you shook him off.

The walker’s growls weren’t growing any fainter, you realized with a start. In fact, they seemed to be growing louder as you approached…

The cafeteria. The two of you froze in the entrance at the horrifying sight before you. Another herd of walkers, shaken from their stupor once they caught sight of you. 

You flashed Daryl a petrified look, your expression reflected on his own features. He wasted no time grabbing your hand and pulling you down the hall.

“This isn’t lookin’ good,” he gasped, glancing behind you for signs of walkers. He groaned, prompting you to look. The herd from before was now merging with the cafeteria roamers, forming an extra large group. You ran faster.

“It’s going to be okay. We just need to find an exit, or-” you said, before Daryl cut you off by pulling you to a stop.

“Take this,” he said, dropping his pack from his shoulder. You eyed him, confused. He ignored you, repositioning your pack so he could place both on your shoulders. When you were settled, he lifted his crossbow.

“I’m goin’ to hold ‘em off, let you find a way out. When ya do, just shout for me. I’ll find ya,” Daryl said. You shook your head, understanding his true meaning in an instant.

“No, Daryl, it’s suicide. We go together or not at all,” you argued. Daryl bit his lip, studying your reaction. He could see the tears welling in your eyes, the tension in your stance. He knew that you knew what he was planning.

“We can’t, sweetheart,” he said, gently. “You need to get out of here safe. I need to get ya out of here safe. Ya know I gotta do that, right?”

You shook your head, placing a hand on his arm.

“D, please. Just come with me. We’ll find a way out of this,” you pleaded. He studied you for a moment, silent, before pulling you into a tight hug. You held onto each other for dear life, neither of you daring to let the other go. Only when the sounds of the approaching herd grew deafening did you release him.

He held your face between his hands, leaning in to meet your eyes.

“Gotta do this. I’ll be right behind ya,” he said. You felt a tear slide down your cheek, but you nodded regardless.

“Okay,” you said. It was all you could say. With one last look, he pulled away from you, disappearing down the hall. You stared at the empty space for a moment, frozen in time. And then you ran.

#whumptober2022 #no.14 #die a hero or live long enough to become a villain #i'll be right behind you #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon imagine #the walking dead #twd

[mwolf0epsilon]

The Umbaran Pathogen - Day 24: Hunted Down

Summary: Kix and Twitch make an extremely upsetting discovery, but also find out that there is a way to safely deal with the parasites. They just have to set a trap to ensnare some very big prey without getting caught in the act...

Warning: N/A

Twitch belongs to @gaeasun Pitch belongs to @lost-on-kamino

Here's what Tup and Dogma currently look like!

Prev / Next

[In which the events on Umbara are worsened by an unknown pathogen taking hold of both the 501st and 212th. These series of drabbles will follow a non-linear timeline based on the AI-less Whumptober prompt list for 2023.]

THIS STORY IS ALSO ON AO3

---

Even though Kix could see that the kid was just about ready to collapse from pure exhaustion, Twitch surprised him by keeping up with the group on their way down to the basement.

It was a remarkable feat of resilience on the rookie's part, considering he was walking with a limp and barely keeping his head up. It was also a show of pure stubbornness, since Twitch obviously refused to not see this whole mess through to the end.

Despite being in such rough shape.

They had begun the journey downwards once Coric had been brought out of shock and tended to. The older medic having had to endure an excruciating amount of pain, as Kix and Twitch had both done their best to clean the horrific wound on his shoulder. Only after the injury was clean enough and tightly bandaged, was he anywhere near ready to make the trek down the hatch, and along the corridor that led to the basement's separate lift system.

The CMO was, of course, lagging behind while visibly staggering with each step. Rex keeping a close eye on his fellow veteran trooper while he stood nearest to Sponge, who'd since woken up confused and heavily concussed. But at least both were on their feet. Unlike Pitch who, even though he was no longer paralyzed by Dogma's venom, was unable to walk at all due to the sizeable hole in his thigh.

It was very likely he'd need some extensive physio-therapy to regain use of the leg, once he'd healed enough to put any weight on it. That is, if he did not need to completely relearn how to walk... The vein Dogma had hit had been a direct pathway to the heart, and was thusly incredibly sensitive to damage. They couldn't be sure he hadn't been crippled for life. Not without their scanners at hand, and they couldn't stop to go a few floors above to search for any.

They were thusly short three medics in the end. Two of which needed supervision while they walked because they were so unsteady on their feet, and the third who was dependent of Fives carrying him to get anywhere at all.

It honestly made sense why Twitch felt the need to push himself to help. Even if it made Kix's heart twinge with both pain and guilt. But, as much as he would like it for his kih'vod to rest, they couldn't spare the amount of time he'd need.

They had already waited too long...

"How deep did they think they needed this basement to be?" Fives grumbled as they settled in the lift for the long way down, finding at least one tiny mercy in the form of built-in seating.

"Deep enough to avoid attracting unwanted attention." Rex shrugged, letting both Coric and Sponge lean against his shoulders as they sat down. "At least there's no obnoxious music..."

"Thank goodness for the littlest of kindnesses, am I right?" Fives snorted, leaning his head back against the lift's paneled walls. Eyes closing as he tried to relax. "If I hear that stupid soap commercial's jingle any sooner than I have to, I'll kill everyone in this lift and then myself..."

"Which one? The Nabooian beaches one with all the bikini babes, or the one about Jakku's beautiful white sands and guided luggabeast tours?" Rex asked sarcastically.

"Doesn't matter." Fives huffed in response. "Both should be classified as psychological torture..."

The banter was comforting in a way. Almost normal, in the face of such stressful events like the ones that had transpired not even a a full hour ago. It made Kix feel a little more like himself (a little more human), just hearing his brothers attempt some idle chatter.

Stars only knew they all needed the brief respite...

He noticed that Twitch was running his fingers through his messy hair, wincing anytime they got caught in the clumps that had gotten stuck together with dry blood.

Before they'd left the lobby he had asked for Kix's canteen so that he could clean his face with some water, despite it being so cold that it might be dangerous to do so. But Kix hadn't denied him that chance.

Not when Twitch had looked so stressed out.

He looked a little better, now that his face wasn't covered in blood. But he was still shaky and very clearly tired. Yet that determined little spark didn't leave his eyes. He would rest only when this was all done and dealt with, Kix could tell.

Twitch wanted to help put an end to all this misery and terror.

"Lift's starting to slow..." The Captain calmly pointed out. "We're almost there."

"Yeah... Just hope we get what he came here for." Fives sighed, running a hand over his face and trying to shake himself out of the sudden bout of apprehension. "What am I saying? Of course we will. We didn't come this far for nothing."

Sometimes Kix really envied Fives's confidence. Even if it made him a bit of a hopeless dreamer. But then again, if all of them were realists then morale would have tanked long ago...

Eventually the lift did come to a stop, the doors opening up to reveal a slightly less frigid room full of server towers and shelves stacked to the very top with equipment. As well as all kinds of high powered fans and liquid nitrogen tanks. Likely the cooling systems keeping everything from overheating.

On first glance, they could immediately tell the entire place was a maze where one could easily get lost in. Lucky for them they had a map. One which easily led them all the way to the main console.

Twitch immediately settled next to Kix, taking up one of two available chairs and beginning to search up the terms they needed. Behind them Rex and Fives both focused on the three injured medics, keeping them tightly wrapped up in their blankets and letting them rest for the moment.

Kix had to make sure Twitch's own blankets stayed on while the younger medic tapped away furiously on the console. His eyes darting from one line of information to the next, as he concentrated on his task.

"How's it looking over there?" Fives asked, which earned him a slightly frustrated growl from their kih'vod.

"Working on it... I'm running a translator while I search." Twitch pointed out. "Even with all the extra memory and cooling systems, this entire setup is slower than our old datapads..."

"I'm not surprised. The databanks are extensive..." Kix hummed in thought as he watched the screens. What he couldn't do if he had all this medical knowledge at the tip of his fingertips. Just one search away from the perfect treatment plan, instead of having to guess based on basic modules he'd studied ages ago...

"Got it!" Twitch exclaimed, looking relieved as he finally found what he'd been looking for. Then, after a few minutes of reading through, the little smile he'd had on his face began to drop.

"...You good kid?" Fives asked.

Scrolling back up, Twitch reread what was on the screen. Kix did the same, a pit forming in his stomach as he began to process what he was reading. A horrid realization dawning on him.

"....The changes are permanent..." He whispered to himself, but the ARC must have heard him all the same.

"Kix?"

"There's no way to cure them... The changes are permanent." The medic hid his face in his hands and let out a muffled scream of frustration. Of course it wouldn't be that easy, not when the parasites had essentially rewritten their vode's DNA in such a drastic manner...

The moment they left orbit with any of their transformed brothers in the state that they were now, they were as good as dead. The natborns would send them away, back to Kamino, to be dissected or worse...

They'd been foolish to hope for anything less.

"So they're stuck like this forever? Acting like... Like monsters?!" Fives was clearly upset by the news. So were Rex, Coric, Sponge and Pitch who looked as equally distraught.

"Not necessarily..." Twitch responded. "Their bodies are altered beyond repair... But there's a way to at least get rid of the parasites that are controlling them."

He scrolled back down, pointing to the only treatment plan available for the Umber Blight. Reading through it, Kix's anxieties did not lessen in the slightest. It was incredibly risky.

"We have the equipment we need here." Twitch continued. "We just need... We just need to find a way to get one of them in here to make sure it works on them..."

"What do you mean IF it works? I thought you just said there was a way to do it?" Rex frowned, looking towards Twitch with both confusion and concern.

"It's only been done on Umbarans, sir." The younger medic explained, bringing up several images to further make his point clear. "The alterations done to them are similar to what we saw with Tup and Dogma. But, because we are biologically not the same, there's clearly some key differences..."

"Which means re-calibrating the operation theater and all the equipment to the right specs..." Coric groaned loudly, understanding the risks. "We need one of them to try it out on, and there's no guarantee we'll get it right..."

"....So there's a risk we could kill them with this procedure?" Fives asked, sounding incredibly disturbed by that prospect.

The silence that followed more than answered his question...

-

Tup had fallen asleep which had helped to further relax Dogma. Despite his failure as a Drone, the current injuries that made him useless to his Hive-Leader and Hive, he'd been forgiven and held closely. Shown mercy he did not deserve because he was a bad Drone and a bad brother.

It warmed his heart.

Made him feel all nice and fuzzy knowing that Tup wasn't angry about his obvious deficiencies as a servant. Maybe he'd done enough in the beginning to prove his worth? Maybe he could still make amends...

But the question was how.

Looking at his sleeping Hive-Leader, Dogma couldn't help but let his antennae droop slightly. He needed to make it right, to show Tup that he could do this. That he could get him those monsters that had dared to attack them. Starting with the fluffy haired one. The one who'd bitten his Hive-Leader and caused him such terrible pain, that it had knocked him out of the sky.

He just needed a chance!

The door to the medical facility opened. Perking up, Dogma looked towards it in surprise before looking back down at his sleeping brother. Tup was so deep in slumber that he hadn't noticed the change at all. And Dogma wouldn't dare disturb his Hive-Leader's much needed rest. Not when he too had a healing wound.

A thought crossed his mind which got the Drone to slowly wiggle his way out from his brother's side. Careful so as to not wake him. So as to not ruin the surprise he had in store for him. He'd ambush the pests all by his lonesome, sting them before they knew what hit them, and drag them all to his Hive-Leader wrapped up in a silken bow.

He'd make Tup proud of him! Make him happy! That's all Dogma really wanted! What he most craved.

With this all-consuming desire to serve and to please ignited and fueling him, Dogma sneaked forward. Keeping an eye on the medical facility's open doors. His antennae twitched as he took in the scents of sterile cleanliness and clone alike.

He was being careful so as to go unnoticed. They'd picked a spot where they remained hidden while still being able to carefully watch the hospital for movement. So far he hadn't seen anyone come out, but surely they must be near the doors to set off the automated opening system...

That said, the closer Dogma got the less sure he felt. He couldn't see anyone... Which made no sense. If no one was near the doorway, then why had the doors opened?

Something didn't feel right...

Getting as close as he could before the crippling cold that billowed out of the building made it near impossible to do so, the Drone squinted inside at the well lit lobby. It was completely empty... Taking a deep breath and sticking his head inside, he found that his targets weren't hiding by the threshold either.

What he did see was a damaged panel with sparking wires.

It clicked too late what this actually was. So late in fact that he never even saw the attack coming, nor did he have the time to cry out for help. All that really registered was hands pinning his limbs down, including his injured wings which hurt like hell at the contact. Then something sharp piercing the side of his neck in a gap between armored scales.

And then Dogma knew nothing...

#Eps Writes #star wars #the clone wars #whumptober #Umbaran Pathogen AU #clone medic kix #clone medic coric #captain rex #arc trooper fives #clone trooper dogma #clone ocs #clone medic twitch #clone medic pitch #clone medic sponge

[kedreeva]

Prompt: Fruity Four, last sparks of the fire

(my inbox is open for ST prompts!)(Previous prompts)

Robin watches the last log in the fire collapse in a little shower of orange sparks, smoke flaring up into the air in artful tendrils. It's been a long time since she felt comfortable being this close to a fire, but Eddie hadn't been at the mall, and he'd invited them over, and they weren't about to avoid him when he'd already picked up supplies for s'mores.

And it's... it's nice. It's quiet, controlled. Steve had set out two pails of water nearby, and after Robin explained to Eddie, he'd kept the fire small. Enough to spit some warmth into the cooling September air, but not enough to cause any raging flames, even at the peak. Normal.

"I think it's ready," Eddie says muzzily, from where he's falling asleep against the side of a large log, head resting on Steve's knee.

No one moves for a minute, and then Steve gently rakes his fingers through Eddie's hair in a bid to get him to look up. "If you let me up, I'll get the stuff."

Eddie considers this, clearly not wanting to give up his place dozing between Steve's legs. "'n toast me one?"

"Toast you as many as you want," Steve agrees warmly. He glances up to Nancy and Robin in their camp chairs. "In fact, I'll toast marshmallows for everyone. But you gotta let me get up first."

Eddie heaves a put-upon sigh, but he shifts so he isn't leaning so fully on Steve, giving him room to clamber up and fetch the s'mores supplies from the front porch. He takes a minute to set up the graham crackers, breaking little blocks of Hersey's chocolate off the bigger bar and arranging them. He'd brought his own roasting sticks after Eddie told him I'll just find a stick or something. Steve has seen the sticks around here, and does not want them in his food. Someone has to have standards around here.

He shoves marshmallows onto the ends of two of the sticks, and heads back over to the fire. Robin stretches her hands up and makes grabby motions for one of the sticks, and Steve passes it over without a fuss. She's almost certainly going to shove it as close to the coals as she can, set it on fire, and eat it right off the stick like she'd done at his house with his lighter. Eddie would have done the same, Steve's sure, but he wants to give him one perfectly golden-brown, gooey marshmallow to try.

Robin, true to form, sets hers alight almost immediately. She holds it aloft and cackles at it while Steve crouches and patiently turns and twists his stick, letting the heat brown the marshmallow until there is a golden shell around it. Right at the end, he sticks it a little closer to the flame and lets the end begin to bubble before he pulls it out and hurries it over to the graham crackers.

He smushes them off and into the crackers and then quickly loads the stick with another pair. He manages to balance the stick and two s'mores as he walks back toward Eddie, who takes his with a broad smile. Nancy takes the other with a polite thank you and a very skeptical look thrown Robin's way. Robin trades sticks with him, and Steve burns the leftover marshmallow off her stick before going to get his own.

In all, they make too many and just enough, fingers and mouths sticky with melting sugar and sweet chocolate. Eddie kisses Steve soundly in thanks, something Robin makes a good-natured retching noise to and Nancy watches in quiet contemplation. Neither of the boys notice.

When the area has been cleaned and the supplies packed away and the goodbyes lingered over long enough, Nancy douses the coals with the first bucket, and Robin with the second. Nancy offers to drive Robin home for Steve, so he can stay, and Steve thinks maybe that's not the only reason, but he doesn't call her on it. She's smart. She'll figure it out.

They watch until the girls have disappeared down the street, and then Steve checks the fire one more time for any last sparks before he slings an arm over Eddie's shoulder and they head inside together.

#stranger things #fruity four #steddie #ronance #my writing #stranger things fic #askbox prompts #asks #anon asks

[whiskey-tango-matcha]

21 + 63?

what's better than one cold? TWO COLDS. thank you for sending!! hope you enjoy this Greyson and Elijah ficlet. 700ish words under the cut.

also!!! if you've sent in a prompt, thank you so much - there are a few more than i was expecting, so i'll be working on them this week and posting sporadically. i will get to yours if you sent one in, promise!!

The worst thing about summers in the restaurant wasn’t the heat; it wasn’t the fact that the walk-in went down once a week as a rule; it wasn’t even the fact that half the staff decided they just didn’t work from May til August. No, the worst thing about the summers was the complete inconsistency.

Greyson wiped flop-sweat from his forehead and swore in relief as he stabbed the final ticket of the evening. It was the week of fourth of July, a historically slow one for them, but for some ungodly reason this year it had been absolutely slammed every night. He and Elijah had both given their counterparts the week off for vacation, thinking they’d be standing around with their thumbs up their asses; instead, the two of them had panted their way through the past three evenings, wondering how the hell they were going to get through the next three.

It was bad enough that they were down two guys and unusually busy; to add insult to injury they had both walked in that morning prepared to deliver more bad news to one another.

Elijah was already seated at his computer when Greyson slogged through the kitchen towards the office, coughing into his elbow all the way. Nothing was worse than a summer cold, he’d decided on the train ride here. At least in the winter you could burrow under blankets, drink tea, eat soup… summer essentially told you to shove all those ideas up your ass and just sweat and sneeze til you keeled over.

“Liiiij,” Greyson moaned, tossing his backpack on the ground and collapsing into his chair. Elijah was turned towards the wall, digging through a drawer on his side of the desk, seemingly unfazed by Greyson’s theatrics. “Lij, I’m -”

“HGTSHHH-ue! HTSHHH-ue!” Elijah folded over the open drawer, arms over his face as two sneezes wrenched out of him. He sniffled, sat up and turned to face Greyson, whose heart dropped when he saw his boss’s face.

“Oh, fuck,” Elijah rasped before Greyson could say anything. “You’re shiverigg.” Greyson wrapped his arms around himself and shook his head.

“Ndo I’m ndot,” he said, congestion seeping into his voice. He tried sniffing it back while Elijah grabbed a tissue from the box between them. “You sound like absolute hell.”

“Mmm. Right back at ya,” Elijah said from behind the tissue. Greyson rolled his eyes.

“I’m ndot sick,” he said, an attempt to keep from stressing the GM out even further. Elijah just raised an eyebrow and tossed the tissue in the overflowing trashcan.

“We really gonna play that gambe?” Elijah asked, coughing into his fist. “Personally, I don’t have the energy for it.”

“I – HNGSTHH-ue!” Greyson twisted into his elbow to haphazardly cover a sudden sneeze, prompting a dark laugh from his boss. “Finde,” Greyson said, clearing his throat and wiping his nose on his jacket sleeve. “Fuck. The timing is ndearly poetic.”

Elijah hummed in agreement, and the two of them sat in exhausted silence – punctuated only by sniffles and coughs – until the hostess rapped on the open door. She winced when both men turned sluggishly towards her.

“Um,” the hostess said, “Elijah, there’s a concierge from the Plaza on the phone. She’s wondering if we have room for a twelve-top tonight, all high-level executives. I know we’re pretty busy already, but…” she trailed off as Greyson groaned and Elijah coughed towards the wall.

“Go ahead and put her through to the office phonde,” Elijah said, attempting to clear his throat. “I’ll find a place for themb.”

The hostess brightened and nodded. “Will do,” she said, breezing out of the kitchen. Greyson turned to Elijah, his look one of pure exhaustion.

“This is so fucked,” he moaned. “God, fuck, I dond’t have timbe for this fuckigg -”

“GTSHHZH-ue!” Elijah cut him off with a massive sneeze and a volley of coughs caught in his sleeve. “This fuckigg cold,” he finished for the chef, each man giving the other a watery, tired smirk. The phone rang then, and Greyson stood to put his chef’s coat on while Elijah blew his nose in vain.

“Let’s get this bag, or what-the-fuck ever,” Greyson mumbled, heading towards the prep table. Elijah managed another wheezing laugh before he picked up the phone and spoke as clearly as he was able.

“Thandk you for holding. This is Elijah, how mbay I assist you?”

#snz #whiskeyswriting #sickfic #snzfic

[carionto]

What are your favorite parts of what you've written about your HASO so far? And/or, which post of yours is your favorite? I think your writing is awesome, by the way!

Thanks, I enjoy writing when the brain decides it has an idea.

I think the favorite things I've written are just the general scale of the things and the ludicrous engineering. It's directly influenced by Warhammer 40K, just without the grimdark. Recently the Death Kebab idea, which is just... so... dumb :D

All of the little games and activities my Humans engage in, such as Meteor Tic Tac Toe, Asteroid Surfing, MS Paint, and the other stuff.

Mainly I, well, I like all of them, since if I didn't I wouldn't have posted them, but I really enjoy keeping the underlying Verse moving along in the background all the time:

Like, all the resources of the Sol system, such as the dozen or so moons I've used up for the various projects they're building, those are all gone now. Like I said in one post - Everything is Canon and irreversible. The dinosaur planet scientists? I haven't forgotten about them :)

Also, there's Cthulu in the Earth, and I've doomed Earth to literally collapse, End Times style, so an Old One will eventually wake up. How will I deal with that? No clue. But I can't pretend it won't happen, so one day I will have to figure it out.

Then there's the extradimensional entity that I don't know what I'll do with at all, but it's there and it killed off its universe and has instilled a primal deeply buried fear in Humanity, so that's an option for future me to explore. I really like this aspect as it is different from everything else and not all that flashy, but that does give me this sense of freedom to make my Humans just a tad more crazy and willing to do extreme things, as this impossible entity sort of functions as a hidden catalyst that justifies going to 11.

And of course the community here that likes and reblogs my things, which is a nice feeling, as well as sometimes asks questions, like right now, and offers insights into things I'm not super familiar with, such as science. I view this writing and posting in an open forum as a collaborative effort as I do look and read all the comments and reblogs etc, so every interaction from you becomes a part of what and why I keep going. Also, feel free to throw prompts and suggestions my way, none of my ideas come from out of the blue.

#humans are space orcs #humans are deathworlders #humans are space oddities #humans are space australians #humanity fuck yeah #carionto #give me prompts #ask questions #don't be shy

[sweet-babyrose]

'' and you know what? i will not be setting an alarm. '' Leila!

I combined all the Leila prompts I got because they kind of all went together. Enjoy!

@cpheath - have a good day 😊

🔕

Leila slammed the front door closed and collapsed face down on the couch. She was about to lose it. Another game with poor communication between her teammates. Another loss. Another night feeling like absolute shit. After the high of playing for Barcelona, this new team was driving Leila nuts.

She picked up one of the couch cushion, covering her face, and screaming into it. 

"What in the world is going on?" you asked, stepping out of your office and into the living room.

Leila lifted her head and looked at you, her eyes going wide. She hadn't realized you were in the apartment. When she'd arrived in Manchester, she'd found herself without a place to live. One of the captains had mentioned her younger sister was looking for a roommate. And that was how she had ended up living with you six months ago. 

The both of you had instantly been attracted to each other. Although Leila flirted back, she had held herself back for some reason that you hadn't yet discovered. But you were slowly chipping away at her walls.

"Bad day?" you asked, sitting on the arm of the couch.

"It's been all bad since I got here, Y/N." She turned over, pushing her hair out of her face, trying not to scream again.

"Ouch. I'm wounded."

"You're excluded from that statement. Obviously." She sat up, dropping her legs over the side of the couch. "Coming from my last team, this is just a big adjustment for me. I'm not used to being on a team that lacks connection."

"You've been working hard. I know my sister's been extremely impressed by you. Why don't you take the day off tomorrow? You've earned it."

"You can't just skip training."

"Leila, you were just screaming into a pillow. I think it might do you good to take a sick day. I know you're allowed to take sick days. Plus, maybe it'll give you time to think about how to make better connections with the team."

Leila thought about it for a minute. She never once took a sick day in her 13 years of playing for Barcelona. But she'd also never once felt this close to the edge there either.  

"You know what? You're right. I think I need a day off." She stood up, grabbing her bag and walking down the hallway to her room. She texted her coach that she wouldn't be in the following day. She changed out of her sweats into pajamas before going back through the apartment to the kitchen. She filled a cup of water.

"Going to bed?"

"Yes." She stopped near you. "That game was hell. My body hurts. I'm going."

"Good night."

"Good night, Y/N." She starting walking back towards her room. "I'm actually looking forward to having no interactions at all with anyone tomorrow. I never thought I would say that. I love people."

You craned your neck to look down the hallway. "No interactions at all?" you asked, hoping it sounded casual.

She peeked her head out of the doorway of her room. "No interactions with anyone but you. Obviously I want to talk to you." She smiled before disappearing back into her room. "And you know what?" she asked, coming back into the hallway with her phone, a smirk on her face. "I will not be setting an alarm!"

"Leila! I'm so proud." For the last six months, Leila's alarm had gone off at 5:00, every single day, training or off day. It was one thing that drove you absolutely crazy. "As a thank you, I'll make you whatever you want for breakfast tomorrow."

"Don't you have to work?"

"You're playing hooky. I'm playing hooky," you answered easily with a smile.

Leila's smile grew. "I'm looking forward to playing hooky with you, roomie." She winked at you and stepped back into her room, shutting the door.

You slid off the arm and onto the sofa, smiling. You could feel that wall between you crumble a little more. Tomorrow was going to be a great day.

#ficlet #leila ouahabi x reader #Leila Ouahabi imagine #woso imagine

[make-me-imagine]

All For You

Prompts: 'Accidental confession during heat of the moment/fight.' + 'Person A is hiding an injury, no one finds out until they collapse.' and "You’re an idiot you know that?” “I am entirely aware, yes.” + 'The warmth of blood on your hands' and 'Lying in a hospital bed' Requested By: @spuffyfan394

Plot: After getting jumped by a group of soc's, Darry is injured and put in the hospital. Y/n stays to watch and worry over him, allowing previously hidden feelings to reveal themselves.

Pairing: Darrel "Darry" Curtis x GN!Reader

Words: 2.6k

Warnings: Mentions of violence, fighting, blood, switch-blades, and hospitals.

General Taglist: @criminaly-supernatural, @caswinchester2000, @imaginesfire, @rexit-mo

Note: For people who may not be familiar with the book/movie but are reading this anyways, 'soc' is pronounced "So-shh" in reference to the rich-side "socials"

-

"Thanks again for walking me home Dare, I appreciate it." You spoke softly with a shy smile. Your heart was pounding so heavily you thought he might be able to hear it.

He looked at you with a grin, his hands shoved in his jacket pockets. "Don't worry about it. I hate the idea of you walking home so late anyways."

"It's not so bad, as long as those jerks from the west-side leave me alone." You said with a soft, half-amused laugh.

"They bother you?" You noted a hint of anger in his voice as he spoke.

You shrugged. "Mostly they just catcall me, ask why I hang out with greasers and not "real men"" You rolled your eyes.

"And what do you say back to them?"

You smiled "I tell them to let me know when they find any."

Darry chuckled shook his head. "Just be careful, you know how bad some of them can be."

"Yeah I know." You nodded, thinking back on a few years back when Johnny got cut up by some.

You felt your heart jolt when the sound of a roaring engine sounded from down the street. You got a bad gut feeling and looked back into the darkness of the street behind you.

Darry looked back, noting your sudden discomfort. "It's alright, I think it was a few streets over." He said softly.

You nodded and smiled lightly at him, but took a step closer to him. You felt safer the closer you were to him. Darry smiled at this, noting how his heart thumped when your shoulder brushed his arm.

You walked in a comfortable silence for a few moments, before you heard the sound of approaching footsteps. You came to a stop when you saw some figures come out of a street in front of you. For a moment you thought it was maybe Two-Bit, Soda and Steve, but when a familiar whistle sounded from the darkness, you stopped in your tracks.

Three soc's you recognized stepped into the light under a streetlamp. The one in the front, who you knew was called Tommy grinned at you. "I thought I recognized you Y/n. Hard to tell out here in the dark."

You felt a shiver run up your spine, but it faded when you felt Darry rest his hand on your back.

"Who's this? Your greaser boyfriend?" Tommy asked, as he eyed Darry.

You looked from Tommy to Darry, wondering how he couldn't know who Darry was. Tommy was fairly new to town, but surely he knew who Darrel Curtis was. But you noted that you and Darry were shrouded in darkness, maybe he couldn't see him fully.

"Hey Tommy, I think that's-" A soc from behind tried to warn Tommy, but was cut off by a raise of Tommy's hand.

"I'm sure I can show you a much better time than this hood rat." He sneered as he took a step forward.

"Yeah right." You said with a glare.

"I think it's time you boys went home don't you think?" Darry warned, his voice low.

Tommy simply scoffed, laughing at him. "I'll decide when I go. And I think-" He paused as his eyes shifted to you. "I'll go when I get what I came for."

Suddenly Tommy lunged forward, reaching out and grabbing you with a laugh. "Back off!" You yelled out as you stomped you foot down directly onto his.

"Hey!" He yelled in anger before he stumbled back as Darry pushed him.

"Back off! I'm warning you!" Darry yelled.

"Yeah? And I'm warning you." Tommy sneered as he pulled out his switch-blade.

Reaching over, you grabbed Darry's arm, your heart racing in panic.

The two other soc's stood behind Tommy with worried looks on their faces, as they looked nervously at you and Darry. Obviously they, unlike Tommy, knew who they were threatening.

"Tommy, come on, lets go." One of the soc's said.

"We'll go when I say!" He yelled back at them. "I gotta teach these two greaser rats who they're messing with."

Suddenly, Tommy lunged towards Darry with the blade. You gasped as Darry rushed in front of you. You watched, frozen in place, as they grappled for a moment, before you heard the clinking of the blade hitting the ground.

Darry swung out, hitting Tommy directly across the face, making him stagger back. Tommy began to retaliate, but you saw him hesitate for a moment as Darry stepped into the street light. Now he recognized him.

The other soc's grabbed Tommy and pulled him back, whispering panicked words in his ear. Tommy grabbed his knife but stayed back. "I'm not done with you two!" He said with a hoarse voice. A threat you knew to be empty as he and the other soc's ran back down the street they came from.

You let out a ragged breath as you reached for Darry. "Darry are you alright?"

He nodded his head. "Yeah, let's just get you home." Reaching back, he took your hand in his as you began to rush down the street, towards you home.

"Idiots." You said in an angered whisper. "What were they even doing out here anyways?" You asked.

"I think he was looking for you." Darry said, his voice laced with anger. "I'm definitely not letting you walk home alone after this." He said in a slightly softer tone, making heat rise up your neck and ears.

After rushing down a few more blocks, you stopped for a moment, panting, trying to catch your breath. Darry looked at you and gently tugged at your hand. "Are you alright?"

Looking at him, you took a deep breath and nodded. Feeling a bit overwhelmed, you stepped forward and hugged him. "Thank you Darry. I don't know what would have happened if you weren't there."

Pulling away, he smiled down at you. "I'll always be here when you need me."

You smiled, feeling yourself melt with the way he smiled at you. Forcing yourself to look away, you looked around, noting you were still pretty far from your house.

"Wait." You said, as you looked around. "If we got this way we'll get their quicker." You said, point to a nearby street.

"Alright." Darry said as he began to walk forward. Suddenly staggering, he let out a light hiss as his face curled with pain.

"Darry?" You asked, concern lacing your voice.

"I'm alright." He said with a strained voice, as he tried to walk again, before his legs seemed to give out.

"Darry." You whispered as you leaned down. As Darry fell to his knees you grabbed him to hold him up. Looking closer, you saw he had his hand on his stomach, from between his fingers, you saw blood seeping through.

"Oh God, Darry!" You said with panic as you looked around. Seeing a nearby phone booth, you made Darry sit down. "Keep pressure on it alright? I'm gonna go call an ambulance!"

After calling 911 you rushed back to Darry, finding him lying on his back, his eyes still open as he stared up at the sky. You knelt down beside him, placing your hand on top of his and pressing down.

He let out a soft groan. "I'm sorry, but you gotta keep pressure on it."

You weren't aware you were crying until a tear fell from your face and landed on Darry's cheek. You wiped your face and he looked up at you.

"Hey, don't cry." He said softly. "It's alright"

You shook your head. "I got you stabbed Dare." Tears were now streaming down your face.

"No, no." He shook his head. "This isn't your fault Y/n, don't you dare think that."

You shook your head as you looked down at his side. Your hands were warm and wet with his blood. You let out a soft sob as you gripping his hand. Hearing sirens nearby you looked back at Darry. "They're almost here, you just have to stay awake okay? For me?"

You saw the ghost of a smile cross his face as his eye fluttered. "Anything for you." He said softly, his voice a whisper.

You brushed his hair from his face as the ambulance grew closer. Darry kept his eyes open and locked them on yours. Keeping the there until the paramedics came to your side, moving you from his view.

You stood nearby, watching them, tears still drenching your face. Looking down at your hands, you noted the blood and felt you gut twist.

Hearing yells from nearby, you looked across the road to see a group of people walking closer. You felt your chest tighten as you saw Soda, Pony, Two-Bit and Steve walking up.

When they spotted you, their faces changed from curiosity to horror as they ran towards you. Running towards them you held your hands out, forgetting the blood covering them. "Stay back guys!"

They stared at your hands in horror. "Who's blood is that Y/n? Are you hurt?" Pony asked as he reached for you.

A sudden sob escaped you as you shook your head. Pony looked over your shoulder, and you saw his face change from worry to terror. "Darry?" Pony said his voice soft.

"What?" Soda asked as he pushed past Pony. "Darry!" He yelled out.

You tried to keep them back, but they rushed towards the ambulance as they began to put Darry inside. You watched with dejection and guilt as they were held back by the police.

"What happened?" Two-Bit asked as he came back up to you.

You shook your head and spoke with anger. "A group of stupid soc's. They were after me." You felt another sob escape you. The others looked back at you when they heard that. "He got hurt protecting me." You said as you looked at Pony and Soda.

They could see the guilt and pain in your eyes and stepped towards you. "It's alright Y/n, it's not your fault." Pony said, wiping his own tears.

"But it is. I'm sorry." You said as you shook your head.

Soda grabbed you, pulling you into a hug as he started consoling you but you heard nothing. You were too overwhelmed with your own thoughts to think of anything else.

-----

Darry winced as he opened his eyes, the hospital lights shining down on him. He tried to sit up, but groaned as a pain pulsed through his abdomen. Letting out a sigh, he took hold of his surroundings. The steady beeping of a machine beside him. The firm hospital bed underneath him.

Looking around, his eyes caught on something in the corner of the room at the head of his bed. Craneing his neck, he saw you, curled up in a chair, asleep.

Darry smiled softly at the sight before the memories of what happened flashed through his mind. Looking closer at you, he saw you had a bag at the side of the chair, multiple books on the table beside you. And the trash can nearby was full of wrappers and trays. How long had you been here? How long had he been here?

Turning, he pushed himself up into a sitting position, letting out a hiss of pain. Hearing shuffling beside him, he looked back over to see you sitting up, your eyes watching him carefully.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you." He said softly.

Rising from your seat, you were by his side in a second. He could see the worry in your eyes, but the smile that spread across your face told him all he needed to know. "You're awake. Are you okay? Do you need me to call the nurse?"

He shook his head. "No, I'm alright. I feel okay."

You let out a breath as you sat on the edge of his bed. You began to fidget nervously with your hand. "The others have been in and out to see you. They wanted to stay but I made them go to work, and made Pony go to class, I know you wouldn't want them to skip out."

Darry smiled. "Thank you Y/n. How long have I been here?"

"Two days."

Darry nodded his head. "Tommy got arrested, after I told the cops what happened. Hell he even admitted to it." You let out a soft humorless laugh.

"Are you okay?" Darry asked as he reached over, placing his hand on yours to stop you from fidgeting.

You met his eyes. "You're the one who got stabbed Darrel."

He smiled softly. "Yeah, but I got a feeling you're the one who's hoarding all the guilt for it."

You looked down at your hand, now covered by his. "Why didn't you tell me he stabbed you? We should have gotten help immediately, not ran around half the town."

Darry shrugged slightly. "I wanted to get you home so that you were safe."

You stared at him for a moment, your face blank. "Well, you're an idiot you know that?"

He let out a soft laugh "I am entirely aware, yes."

You smiled for a moment before it faded, and you shook your head. "I'm sorry Darry. We shouldn't have been out there at all."

"Hey- hey" He said gripping your hand. "Don't. This was not your fault. It's Tommy's for getting all gung-ho with that switchblade. Now look at me." Slowly, you met his eyes. "Hell, it's more my fault than it is yours. Not that I regret what I did. I didn't know what they would have done to you, and I sure as hell wasn't gonna find out. I would have done whatever I needed to to keep you safe, I love you, and I need you to be safe. That's all that mattered to me, you were all that mattered to me."

Darry watched as your face changed from guilt-ridden, to shy, to surprised.

You opened your mouth and spoke hesitantly. "You...love me?"

Darry was silent for a moment as panic rushed through him. He spoke so fast he didn't think about what he was saying. Not that it was a lie, it wasn't, but this wasn't how he was planning on saying it. But at least it was finally said.

He took in a breath and smiled at you. "Yes, Y/n, I love you. I think I have since the moment we met."

You swallowed and took in a shaky breath. "I didn't know. I mean, I- I never thought you would see me like...that. That you could ever...love me."

"Why not?" He asked in a whisper.

You met his eyes and let out a soft laugh. "I- I don't know. I just thought I wasn't your type I guess."

He smiled pulling your hands closer to him. "You could never compare to anyone else Y/n. And I'd get stabbed a thousand times to prove it."

You let out an alarmed chuckled. "Please don't."

He chuckled, "Well alright, if you insist."

"I do. I definitely do."

His grin faltered a moment as his eyes landed on your lips. "There is something you could do for me."

You sat up a little straighter, wondering if he needed a nurse, or water, food maybe. "Anything."

Moving his hand up your arm, he began to pull you slowly towards him. You felt your heart pick up speed as your face grew hot.

Stopping a few inches from his face, he spoke softly. "Kiss me."

You felt as though your whole body was on fire, as butterflies rampaged through your stomach. Holding your breath, you slowly leaned in, hovering or just a moment before the two of you met in a kiss. His hand left your arm and cupped your face, his other hand taking yours and squeezing.

Hearing a familiar chorus of voices down the hall, making there way towards the room, you pulled slowly away from each other. Your eyes stayed locked, as you both smiled at each other, a silent understanding between you. This was the beginning of something wonderful.

xx End xx.

#Darrel Curtis #Darry Curtis #The Outsiders #darrel curtis/reader #darry curtis/reader #the outsiders/reader #darrel curtis x you #darrel curtis/you #darry curtis x you #darry curtis/you #the outsiders y/n insert #darrel curtis x y/n #the outsiders imagine #the outsiders fic #darrel curtis fic #darrel curtis imagine #darry curtis imagine #oneshot #one shot #fluff #whump #angst #patrick swayze #patrick swayze imagine

[sollucets]

rowan!! that prompt you wrote that takes place around ep 10 has me REELING <33 it made me want to rewatch all over again! i'm obsessed with the way you write akkaye, you're one of my favorite writers for them. may i please request another prompt around that same canon timeframe (aka anywhere from the sort-of-secret-sort-of-official boyfriends stage in ep 10 to ep 12)? [rattles can] in return i'm offering u all my savings and my eternal devotion!!

i can't decide between 45, 20, or 8 so feel free to pick either (or all) as you please! thank you thank you thank you, and congrats on your milestone! <33 Xx

(the prompt in question) ah nonny thank you so much :') i loved writing it hehe. i refuse ur savings but i'll accept ur devotion so long as i can reciprocate!

touch prompts 8 (shielding the other one with their body) + episode 11, combined for ~1.2k of pain

💜

Aye loses track of time on those steps. He loses track of a lot of things, actually, focus narrowed to the places where he’s touching Akk, to all the points of their connection. He has a hand around the back of Akk’s neck, his thumb over Akk’s pulse point, anchoring, holding. Clinging, the same way Akk’s fingers are tangled in his uniform jacket. He wishes he were closer. He wishes he could wrap himself around and through Akk, close enough to cover his bones, to keep him from this. To keep him here. 

It’s a while before he masters himself enough to remember, faintly, that this isn’t sustainable. They’re still in the middle of campus, collapsed on the ground in a little puddle together, and if they were supposed to be following along with Wat’s story they’ve already failed. 

The thought of letting go of Akk while he’s all jagged edges and crumpled limbs in Aye’s hold is — impossible, though, unthinkable. He can’t. But they can’t stay here. 

Aye takes a deep breath that comes out ragged and painful, ignores the tear tracks on his cheeks, and pulls back, just a little. Akk looks up at him, face red and mouth trembling. 

“Akk,” he says, barely a whisper. He slips his hand around the front of Akk’s neck, brushes tears away even as they’re immediately replaced. “Akk, baby, we need to get up.” 

Baby. He’s never said it before, but it feels right enough in his mouth. He’d say every sweet little thing if Akk would let him. 

He does let him, this time, but Aye thinks Akk might honestly let him do anything right now. “Come on,” he says, shifting enough to catch Akk under the arms. “Let’s go somewhere quieter.” 

Because it’s starting to be not quiet, here. These are the front steps of the school, and class being in session by now aside, people pass here enough, and Aye wants to hide them. They need time to decompress before anyone can even start thinking about what to do next. 

Akk goes with him after a moment, though his legs don’t seem entirely steady under him once he’s standing. Aye slips an arm around his waist, though he doesn’t actually have that much confidence in catching the taller boy if they should both slip. He just needs to hold on. Akk is warm under his hands, like he always is. Warm and still here. 

“Let’s go to the bleachers,” Aye says, because it might not be completely private but vanishingly few people ever go there at this time, unused as the space is outside of club hours. 

He doesn’t get a response, verbal or otherwise, but Akk doesn’t fight when he starts walking, and so that’s how they go. There are a few people around, and they stare, but whatever Aye’s face is doing must be enough to warn them off. 

It’s unreal for a moment. Here they are, clinging to each other openly in the halls of Suppalo, all the truth out in the air. Aye used to think it’d be a triumph, that Akk would finally admit to it because he’d come to terms with it, and then they could — he doesn’t know, but he thought it’d be a moment of catharsis, of relief. Maybe it was naive. Maybe it was always going to be like this, them both going to pieces for everyone to stare at and pick apart. 

He just has to get them both through a couple of tight hallways and across part of a courtyard, and then they’ll — he doesn’t know. Sit more, maybe. Wait. Even though that was the big bombshell, it doesn’t feel like the barrage is over. It still feels too still, like they’re waiting for something else. 

People are mostly in class right now, he thinks, although he doesn’t know how much learning is actually getting done after something like that. They pass some people in the hall, people who stare, their gazes sticking in accusation as they pass. 

They almost make it, too. They’re just across the courtyard from the bleachers when they pass too close in the hall to someone with a blue armband. Aye doesn’t know his name, but he’s seen him a couple times, a junior of Akk’s. He stares at first, like everyone else, and Aye ducks his head, tightens his grip on Akk’s waist, and speeds up. 

But unlike everyone else, he stops walking, partially in front of them. Akk stiffens in his arms, although Aye doesn’t see him look up from under the curtain of his bangs. 

“Phi,” the prefect says slowly. He has light eyes, clear and amber and conflicted. “P’Akk, is it— really true? I know you said— but that was in front of everyone. Really?” 

“Yes,” rasps Akk, before Aye can even figure out how to address this. “Yes. All of it.”

The boy takes a quick breath, and looks, for half a second, shattered. Aye empathizes, but he can’t deal with this right now, so he starts to move them again. 

Their path is blocked. 

Aye fixes his gaze on the other prefect. He has no idea, again, what his face must look like, but the boy very nearly shrinks back. He sees it.

It isn't enough, though. “Then you did that to all of us, too,” he says, very quiet. 

It’s true, is the thing, if you only look at it from where the prefects had been standing on those steps. Akk dragged the entire club along with him into enforcing that curse, into believing in those rules, into hurting those people. 

But the real problem is a lot older than Akk, and a lot bigger than him, and a lot harder to properly place the blame for. And even if it wasn’t — Aye is too far in now, too far lost in the stars in Akk’s eyes. 

Akk takes a hurt breath in next to Aye, a ragged little gasp, and that’s enough. They need time. He shoves himself forward, placing himself bodily between the prefect and Aye just as the boy starts to take a step towards them. 

“And why,” snaps Aye, “did you follow?” 

The prefect’s eyes narrow, and he opens his mouth to say something else. One hand still at Akk’s waist, Aye moves forward again.

They’re almost the same height, Aye probably a little shorter. There are still dried tear tracks on his face. He cannot possibly be physically intimidating in any way that matters, but he snarls, still, at the end of his rope. “Shouldn’t you be in class, little prefect? Get going. Listen to your seniors. Isn’t that supposed to be what you’re good at?”

He keeps himself between Akk and the boy the entire time as they pass him, and he doesn’t move again as Aye pulls Akk with him all the way to the bleachers, their bleachers. There’s enough of a line of sight here that he’ll see if anyone’s coming, and he can get Akk’s back to a fence and see if he can eventually bring himself long enough to get them both a drink. They’ve lost a lot of water. 

The moment they arrive, Akk drops like a puppet with its strings cut, legs falling out from under him. Aye hates this, hates it with a force he hadn’t been sure he was really capable of. He follows Akk down, sits next to him. He can’t let go yet. Not while he doesn’t know Akk will stay.

He doesn’t know what to say yet, if there’s anything he can say. He’ll think of something soon. He tips their heads together, grip tight, and waits, because at the very least, Akk hasn’t let go either. 

#the eclipse #akkayan #my fic tag #arbitrary milestone prompts #yes i decided to canonize for myself the first time aye calls akk baby as here #i hate myself i guess. LMAO #on a lighter note i did always wonder why the bleachers were always empty #magic i guess! #this was very easy to write. unfortunately maybe #it's been that kind of day

[optiwashere]

Handholding, 49 for Shadowheart and Asheera? 🥺 (always soft for them tbh)

Thank you for being soft for them because I am too (shocking I know!) And thanks for the request 💜

I'll have to take a break for the night, but I'll work on more tomorrow and any others that come in! Don't be afraid to send some in :)

You can send in one of these prompts + a ship/platonic pairing and I'll write a li'l ficlet!

---

Hand-holding 49 (taking the other's hand to look for injuries)~ CW for blood, some canon-typical violence implications, and references to my fic It is the Wound She Gave Me.

With the necromancer dead on the stones, Shadowheart sighed. One step closer to realizing her purpose. Who she was meant to be. All that remained now was to take the Spear her Dark Lady had bestowed upon, the Mistress of All Nights to Come would finally recognize her as—

A pained gasp stole her attention away. The whisper in her mind told her to ignore it.

Asheera panted out another sharp sound, like blood was caught in her throat. Or a punctured lung. Shadowheart moved without thinking, the whisper fading in her mind even as it raised in volume.

"Are you hurt?" she asked, falling to her knees.

"I have suffered worse," Asheera muttered. She coughed and a black splotch fell onto the floor. "Nothing a touch from my god can't help."

"You think me an idiot, then? Come. Here." Shadowheart took her hand and pulled her up as best she could. "Gods, you're heavy as an ox."

"Stronger too. Healthier. Just give me a moment."

"I will not wait for you to bleed out while you fumble to lay hands on yourself," Shadowheart bit back. Though their relationship was mired in her own faulty memories and the Gauntlet's psychic urging, Shadowheart wasn't about to watch her... the woman she cared for bleed out. Not again.

Just the thought brought her back to the cells under the goblin camp. Shadowheart shook it away and began her casting of a healing spell.

Only then did she realize that she still held Asheera's hand. Their fingers interlocked together, the plated gauntlet slipped between her leather glove. She squeezed and touched the wound on Asheera's hip. A dip into Shar's spring of the Weave brought violet threads to stitch together the slash.

"How does that feel?" Shadowheart asked her, forgetting that Astarion and Gale were just right next to them. "Asheera, breathe for me."

Asheera sucked in one long breath and exhaled. Her muscles flexed and flowed under Shadowheart's healing hand and Asheera's hand in hers tightened the grip they shared.

"Feels good."

"You're better. No more bleeding."

Asheera nodded, the color returning to her dark olive green face. "No more bleeding. Thank you. You didn't have to do that."

Was I supposed to watch you die in my arms, again? But Shadowheart didn't dare voice that. Instead, she asked with an incredulous voice, "What was I going to do, sit here and watch you collapse from blood loss?"

"Your Lady of Loss probably would've preferred it," joked Asheera.

"She will learn to accept you. She must."

As Shadowheart stood she no longer needed to help Asheera. The half-orc stood tall, her armor gleaming with stains of her own blood. She retrieved her two-handed sword and resumed her position at the front of the party, Astarion rolling his eyes and mentioning something about 'melodrama.' Gale simply gave Shadowheart an awkward smile as they both left the room where Balthazar's body would rot once more.

My Lady, you will suffer her.

A cold whisper answered in her mind, "And what do you think you can you do if I do not?"

The question was another of the small knives that cut at her since waking in the nautiloid. The first was Asheera's calm insistence against the Sharran faith, once annoying and now carrying some truth now that Shadowheart saw the untold misery in Reithwin.

Another of the knives to which Shadowheart had no defense. Cutting apart what she thought she was little by little. Edge by edge.

#bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #shadowheart #shadowheart x tav #asheera x shadowheart #oc: asheera #my fic #anotheropti prompt fics #music to go with this one: the cure's pornography fits well

[imagineitdearies-old]

Would you consider writing a modern au after d&s? Maybe with switch Lucemond 👀 lol or do you have other things lined up

'Things lined up' is waaaay too organized for me, anon 😂

Do I have a doc just filled with HOTD plot bunnies, though?? Yes, yes I do. Weirdly the only modern au on there right now is a rhaenicent religious trauma/'summer before college' slowburn, but I'm happy to get inspired at any point toward a modern lucemond story, just haven't yet. (prompts welcome!)

Switch lucemond though?? Anything that's not a one-shot would involve switching at some point, ngl. And though I've loved being stuck in Aemond's unreliable narrator head for D&S, I think I'd want to switch POVs in most of them too, lol. So yeah, here's a couple of my current long-form lucemond plot bunnies:

Luke gets poisoned: a bit of a whump!Luke fic at the start. Rhaenyra stays in KL and is Regent. When Corlys recovers from the wounds they thought might kill him, she holds a feast to celebrate. At the feast, Luke gets weirdly sick really fast, thinks it was the seafood he ate, and tries to go to his chambers but collapses in some small corner of the castle in pain. Enter Aemond, who followed thinking Luke was crazy drunk and that this is a perfect opportunity to remove his eye--right up until he realizes Luke is coughing up blood. Suddenly he is Not CoolTM with someone else hurting his nephew (he's the only one allowed), and gets him to a maester fast. He stays at Luke's bedside the whole time he's nearly dying, no one can make him leave, does a lot of the caring/nursing him back to health stuff. And then, after the two talk it out of course, they embark on a vengeful murder-spree together killing everyone who was involved in poisoning Luke. It gets a bit kinky.

Storm’s End Time Loop: When Lucerys dies, he’s brought back with a clang of a knife falling between him and Aemond, back to that moment he demanded his eye. Thinking the gods gave him a do-over, this time Luke does not wait for his uncle’s words, just runs. He and Arrax hide amidst the rock pillars until the storm passes, safely making it home…but the moment he falls asleep, Lucerys returns to that moment at Storm’s End. 

He tries different things as time continues to loop—once convincing Lord Borros to let him stay the night, another throwing the knife at Aemond’s face, even attempting to put his sword through him from the start—but the moment he dies or falls asleep, it starts again. Lucerys begins to wonder if the gods have a sick sense of humor and won’t let him rest until he fulfills Aemond’s request.

So the next time, he does put out his eye...and it still reloops. But this time Aemond remembers too. (Cue the two of them doing the day over again and again till they get it right, aka fall in love lol.)

Diplomatic mission to Essos: Rhaenyra is queen but Corlys did die of his injuries, so Luke became Lord of the Tides quite young. Years later the queen asks him to go on his first diplomatic mission to Essos. Since he has little experience, however, she sends Aemond to accompany him, as her brother has had great diplomatic success in Dorne for the last few years. Cue the two of them begrudgingly trying to get along in the tight quarters of a ship and work together on their approach with the trade deal (a lot of Aemond impatiently coaching Luke, lol). But they're both mature men--mostly--now, and actually find a lot in common, becoming friends. Eventually they share quarters because Aemond's keeps flooding, UST builds...until Aemond comes onto him one night, justifying that it's a common thing for sailors to do when they go a long time between ports. (Cue family-with-benefits situationship angst)

What will I work on next?? Maybe none of these, who knows 😂 the muse is a fickle thing. After I finish D&S I'll probably want a break with some one-shots, we'll see. Thanks for the ask!

#lucemond #plot bunnies #shit I wrote #ask me shit #fanfic prompt

[morganaspendragonss]

Hello, I adore your writing! I was wondering if you could do sick or injured TK but he’s hiding bc he just feels like he doesn’t deserve to take time off or look after himself and he maybe collapses and Judd is super big brotherly, protective, sweet and bandages him up or takes him home to look after him? If it doesn’t inspire you it’s absolutely no problem, keep up the amazing work you and writers like you are so appreciated more than you know!

if you're still here, anon, hi! and thank you so much for this prompt! i'm sorry it took me forever to get to :(

in the week running up to christmas, i am going to try to post a prompt fill every day, but i can't promise. maybe i'll only get this one out lmao. we shall see. either way, hope you enjoy!

ao3 | 1.2k

There’s some sort of irony, he thinks, that in the same year he almost freezes to death, he might actually die of heat. Summer in Texas is no joke, but there’s no way TK is going to admit to struggling to anyone, not when he knows all the jokes they’d undoubtedly make. Besides, he’s sick of being, well, sick, and he doesn’t want to see the inside of any kind of medical facility for the rest of the year unless it’s to do with his job. In which case he sees one nearly every day, but details.

And it’s just… After January, TK had to take months off while his body recovered from the accident, while he gained his strength back and learned to live with the side effects he seems to be stuck with now. One of those being migraines, which is why he doesn’t think much of it when his head starts pounding and he can’t really move his head without feeling an overwhelming dizziness and nausea. He’s been told countless times by Tommy to take time off if he needs it and TK knows that’s the sensible option, but he feels like he’s wasted half of this year at home and he hates these new limits that have been forced on him. If he is physically able to get through this, then he will.

Still, as the day goes on, he’s becoming less and less sure that he can. It’s like someone is running a drill right between his eyes without pause, but TK knows from experience that there’s no stopping a migraine once it’s begun. The best thing to do is ride it out, but today’s is worse than any he’s experienced before. The sun is unrelenting in its intensity and neither team has had much time for rest today, which means no time under any sort of shelter or even a minute to take a sip of water.

But he just pulled the rig back into the station, a blessed wave of cool air hitting them as they exit, and TK plans on making the most of the reprieve, however brief. He makes a beeline for the kitchen, grabbing a towel and running it under the faucet, then takes his water bottle from the fridge and heads up to the bunk room.

Once in bed, he pulls the sheets up so they cover his eyes and lies as still as possible, resolved not to move until another call comes in.

It works for about five minutes until TK is sweating through the covers and he throws them off, panting as a sudden breathlessness overtakes him. There’s a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach that he knows means nothing good, but he’s afraid to move – things will only go one way from here, but TK would really, really like to believe that for once it won’t.

But, of course, it does.

The churning in his stomach increases with his heart rate, and TK eventually has to throw himself out of bed and stumble to the bathroom, cursing his bed being furthest away from the hall. He barely makes it in time, the first heave taking over his body no sooner than he drops to his knees by the toilet.

And, because his body hates him, it fights against what it so clearly wants to do. Strings of bile dangle from his mouth as he heaves, his abdomen cramping painfully and his breath coming in short, sporadic gasps.

It takes a long time and several rounds of throwing up in the bowl for the nausea to subside, and with it, it takes all of his remaining energy. The smell coming from the toilet is awful and it threatens to turn his stomach again, but reaching up to flush is too much for him. TK sits in a heap on the bathroom floor, head slumped at an angle that’s sure to hurt if he stays here long enough, but he can’t care. He doesn’t have the energy; his limbs are all so heavy and his eyelids just want to droop closed, but he’s still on shift, he needs to be alert, he needs—

“Strand!”

TK’s head jerks up from where it’s dropped to his shoulder and the pain in his head strikes a new peak. He just wants to curl into a ball and die, but whoever called his attention won’t let him; he’s grabbed by the shoulders and shaken like a ragdoll, as much as he tries to get his body under some sort of control. 

Something is held to his lips and when the water hits his throat, he greedily gulps it down, only to immediately have to force himself above the toilet as it comes straight back up again. When he comes back to himself, he registers a touch on his back, and TK manages to moan and twist in their grip until their face swims into view.

“Judd?” he slurs.

“Yeah.” Judd squints at him, then sighs and shakes his head. “Tommy sent me to check on you before she left; EMS crew got sent on a call ten minutes ago.”

“What?” TK scrambles to push himself to his feet, but his limbs betray him and if not for Judd catching him, he would have collapsed back down.

“Man, you’re a stubborn bastard, Strand,” he huffs, not letting TK go so as to keep him in place. “And you’re a damn fool if you think she didn’t know something wasn’t up. She had her suspicions too, and I think we’ve just confirmed them.”

TK rolls his head in an approximation of a shake. “It’s just a migraine. Get them all the time now. Fucking ice.”

Judd snorts. “That’s one way of putting it. But this ain’t no migraine, it’s just a nasty bit of heat exhaustion. Though, you’re lucky we figured it out because if we’d waited for you to tell us you’d be heading straight to the hospital.”

The word hospital filters through the mush that’s become TK’s brain and his eyes widen, locking with Judd’s. “No,” he says. “No hospital. I don’t… I can’t.”

“Hey, relax.” Judd rubs his arm and then, making sure TK isn’t just going to crumple, lets go and eases himself down to sit next to him. “You’re not going to the hospital, but only if you’ll let Gracie take you back to our house while this thing runs its course.”

“Can’t…”

“Can. Grace is downstairs now and she’s told me that if I don’t bring you out, she’s going to come up herself and make sure she doesn’t leave without you.”

“I’ll throw up if I get into a car.”

Judd shrugs. “I mean, take a sick bag, please, but I got a baby daughter. That car’s seen worse.”

TK sighs and squints up at Judd. “You’re not letting this go, are you?” he asks, though, in truth, he doesn’t really want him to. He can admit it now; he feels like shit, and having someone take care of him is kind of exactly what he wants and needs right now.

“Nope.” Judd grins as he stands to help TK up. “This is how we do.”

TK wouldn’t change it for the world.

#911 lone star #911 lone star fic #tk strand #judd ryder #lone star #911ls #fanfiction #my fanfiction #writing #my writing