#“You better pray I don't get up this time around.”

[chrisbesitos]

ballerina!reader and dealer!chris that finally make amends and ballerina reader is happy until her mom comes over and doesn’t like Chris not like it matter to her or Chris

Now, you and Chris are officially dating. He asked you a couple weeks ago, you're having wonderful days. The dealer guy who was always flirting with girls at parties and having sex with them, now he's not available anymore and has a pretty big on his finger. You're not the type of jealous girlfriend, but it's good to know the girls are not going to flirt with your boyfriend. He's only yours.

Laying on the couch with your legs intertwined, you and Chris are watching a silly romcom movie — your choice, of course — on the TV. You two are almost falling asleep under the comfortable fluff blanket, suddenly the sound of the doorbell makes you get up. You huff, climbing out of the couch, Chris now is waking up, clearly annoyed by someone who's in the door, interrupting their cozy afternoon.

You walk until the door in lazy steps, praying to be someone who mistakes the house. Your heart starts to race when you open the door and face your mother, your eyebrows frowned in confusion.

"What are you doing here?" You ask, your voice cracking by the weirdo feeling on your chest. The weirdo feeling is actually fear. The last time you saw your mother, you ruined your non-relationship with Chris, but now you're dating and you don't want to ruin everything again by the fear you feel of you mom.

"Is this the way to treat your mother, Y/N?" She says, stepping in without permission. The familiar voice makes Chris pay attention to what's happening, he remembers your mother's voice and what happened the last time you saw her. Chris lifts from the couch, walking towards you and putting himself behind your body, embracing your waist. "Uh, you. What are you doing with this boy?"

"He's my boyfriend." You say, taking sharp breaths, you were always a coward around your mother, but not today. You'll never let her treat Chris badly again. You hold Chris' hands, lifting your chin to show your courage, your mother narrows her eyes, clearly not approving your relationship, but you're already a grown woman.

"Boyfriend? You deserve better than this."

"Goddamn it, mom! Leave me alone, it's my life and not yours, can you let me live my life? I can't handle you anymore, Chris is my boyfriend and I don't fucking care if you don't like him, because I do! And if you don't agree with this, you can do this away from me." You say, pushing Chris' hands and pointing your finger in your mother's face. Her eyes widened in shock, she never expected you to say this for her, but she's deserving to hear this for a long time. "You can leave now, we don't want you here."

She left without saying a word, you hold your breath until Chris closes the door. He cups your face with his hands, admiring your glassy eyes, he smiles at you.

"Don't cry, babydoll. You're so brave, you face your mother." Chris says, brushing your cheek with his thumb. You nod in agreement, you embrace his neck with your arms and hide your face on the crook of his neck. "I'm so proud of you, doll."

"I was keeping this for a long time, now I feel better." You mumble, Chris rubs your back, walking back to the couch with you. He throws you gently on the couch, laying by your side after, he kisses your cheek. You feel loved by Chris.

"My brave girl."

tags ; @lizzymacdonald06 @lushjunkie @sweetreliever @watercolorskyy @ivysturnss @brianna-grace12 @blahbel668 @gabri3la-sturns @stvrnzcherries @unknvhx @pvssychicken @all4l0vee @i4longhairchris @sluttybitchformattsturniolo @sophand4n4 @sturniololetstrip2 @zayluvss @sturnsmia @sofieeeeex @ifwdominicfike @planettori @jetaimevous @leclecwifey16 @mattswifeyx @joclyn240 @voqueflms @pepsicola-pussy @sturnobsessedwh0re @chrissturnioloswifeee @sturniolossss @imonlyhereformattfluff @sturniolosluttt

masterlist. | taglist.

[sir3n-s]

Since Eddie came to live with him, Wayne has seen him bring home many things.

Mainly bugs or hurt animals.

One time he brought home a skunk. Sometimes Wayne thinks he can still smell it.

But this? This is something else.

"Wayne I can explain" he says standing in the doorway with a jar.

A jar that has a pixie in it.

"That jar better have holes in it, Edward.'" He's praying that his nephew didn't hurt the pixie.

Pixies have been around for centuries and helping them will bring good luck. As in the pixie will most likely bring you gifts.

Hurting a pixie though?

He has heard some stories that would be labeled as horror if they were movies.

"Of course, it has holes in it!" Eddie says like it was ridiculous of him to ask, "I'm not stupid" Wayne thinks that is debatable but now is not the time for that.

"Yet you have a pixie in a jar" he sighs, wondering why this kid can't give him a break, "knowing what they are capable of."

"I know, I know!" Eddie says, looking down at the jar. "I just wanted to say hi, and then he attacked me! I didn't want to hurt him, but he wouldn't leave me alone!"

"So you thought putting it in a jar would make it like you," he says while getting up.

"Well no but I tried runng but he followed me"

He's going to need a beer after this. 

"Give me the jar," he says standing in front of his nephew. 

Eddie doesn't hesitate to hand it over. 

Wayne walks out the door of the trailer and starts opening the jar, "I apologize for my nephew, he doesn't think before he acts. He's a good kid, please don't hurt him" he takes the top off and lets the pixie fly out.

It flies in front of Wayne’s face for a moment before smiling and nodding at him, then zooms off.

Wayne walks back into the trailer to grab a beer and start lecturing his nephew.

-

Over the next few weeks, Eddie sees the pixie, who he learns name is Steve, come by the trailer to give gifts to Wayne.  

Eddie has tried to get close enough to apologize but Steve always files away the moment he sees Eddie. 

But he also doesn't do anything to Eddie so he guesses that Steve likes Wayne enough to leave his nephew alone. 

Which is good because pixies can be terrifying. 

"Give him some fruit," Wayne suggests after hearing Eddie complain about Steve leaving once he saw Eddie pull up to the trailer. "He really likes peaches." 

So Eddie cuts up a peach and puts it on a plate. He takes it outside to the bench close by and waits. 

Steve does eventually show up but Eddie can tell he's still cautious of him because he doesn't immediately go for the peach like he would if Wayne was the one offering it.

Eddie smiles at him and pushes the plate towards him hoping to encourage him to eat it.

Steve must have decided to trust Eddie because he dives for the peach slices.

He watches Steve eat a really small amount of the the peach, but pixies are so small it was probably a lot to him.

Once it seems like Steve had his fill of the fruit Eddie sets a napkin down next to the plate.

Steve wipes his hands and face with it. Then he just sits there and stares at Eddie for a moment.

"Thank you" the pixie says. And honestly Eddie is surprised, he didn't know they could communicate with humans.

"You're welcome" he responds, tapping his finger on the table, "I am sorry about the jar thing, I really didn't mean to hurt you"

Steve reached for Eddie's hand and placed his tiny hand on top of his finger, stopping its movement.

"Its okay" Steve smiles at him.

[saturdaylemon]

Take all the time you need! And please ping me when you expand on those thoughts - if you don't mind.

Okay, back to designing.

I'm moderately opposed to making the Shades talk for previously mentioned reasons, but I could see giving "X speaks of Y" style summaries in the action popup. They're not really the people who died (or almost died), more like impression fossils. The lights are on, but nobody's home. We think.

The Ku Flame

Your idea for Hikari are a worthy inclusion, the only question is how. And the answer to that depends on how the fight works. If I were programming a game I'd be more inclined to do a mostly-standard boss fight with some extra narrative. If I were writing a fic, however, the 2v2 with Path Actions, Talents, and Latents all getting involved would be easier to pull off in that format. The quote would be something like "Ageha, you are relieved of duty!" In a more standard boss fight it fits better as "entering second phase" or maybe post-boss dialogue. In the 2v2 narrative puzzle it can be a Full Boost quote. It really only makes sense to say once; and maybe Ageha's Shade could seem to respond to it? You probably get prompted to activate Light's Radiance for the final blow.

Ageha's Shade shouldn't get minions. He was a general in life, but like you said, he's the last vestiges of the old Ku. He doesn't have an army anymore. On a side note I want this guy to yell "FIX BAYONETS" so bad but guns aren't available yet. Need to pick out a Boost message, a Boost Attack, regular moveset because it can't be all support... so everything. Definitely gets Rally Troops or a similar move by the same name though.

Tanzy was an aspiring playwright, but it seems she never published. In Giselle's troupe she served as director, so it could be fun (more fun in a standard boss fight where there are more characters) to let her Shade mess around with turn order. Like, oh, you were setting Hikari up to counter Ageha's shields off? Haha no the adds just got moved to the top of the round and used up the Vengeful Blade stacks, Ageha's Shade is shouting orders, and Tanzy's Shade is about to hand you your ass. Speaking of adds, the most obvious basis is the other troupe members... but Tanzy pretty conclusively left them behind. Another possibility is to reference her unpublished scripts with unfinished marionettes, or if we want to have some fun, give Tanzy's Shade the same minions as Arcanette. Tanzy begins praying.... -> BREAK HER SHADE NOW! If this is a 2v2, Ruinous Kick makes sense as the Boost Attack because that's half your dudes. In a more standard fight, the Boost Attack should be something a bit more powerful. Regular moveset has the summon, the turn rearrange, probably a buff or two, and maybe a physical attack that inflicts something.

Agnea's Boost quote is mostly babbled interrogatives.

The Crackridge Flame

Ori's Shade is weak to Polearm/Dagger/Bow/Fire. Guess why. (some kind of Light element attack because come on it's in her name) Stop the Presses! / So Tired: inflicts Speed Extremely Down Dear Diary: equivalent to the Merchant job's Rest. Name does not change after Ori's Shade is broken for the first time. Ori can't do this anymore. -> this is gonna hurt

The Final Night sounds like it should be the Boost Attack for Lucian's Shade, but it would also be really funny to have it be the weakest attack. We'd need to name Lucian's other works to name the Shade's attacks... think we could crib Nearer the Flame from the Stormlight Archive? Lucian retrieves a notebook.... -> this is gonna hurt slightly less

Temenos starts going through all of Lucian's works, trying to line them up with the Shade's attacks, and Osvald is experiencing the internal conflict between "not my SpIn, not my problem" and the knowledge that it is Very Much His Problem. Castti is probably in the background like "oh shit I have seen that girl before."

Osvald will offer to explode the person responsible even if you hit Crackridge after Flamechurch. There is no expiration date on Grandpa Blast.

The Toto'haha Flame

Hm, fair point. I figured Castti's usual Slightly Unhinged Boost quotes fit the emotional charge well enough, but this wouldn't be that long after Trousseau. The metaphorical wound is still raw. She could have a Boost quote demanding that the Apothecary's Shade get out of her way. It can't understand her, but she doesn't know that. We could give the apothecary a name, but it also works to leave him completely unknown. Just another cooling body.

Keep the Grotesque Monster's weaknesses (Axe/Bow/Ice/Light), mostly physical moveset since the Apothecary's Shade is handing out debuffs. Give it the Grotesque Monster's Piercing Cry, because if I heard someone like Petrichor start screaming out of nowhere I would be pretty freaked out. Petrichor gives off an ominous aura! -> Apply axe to face, repeat. Hunt the Weak: single target physical, damage increases with number of debuffs and afflictions on target. This is kind of a dark mirror of Drastic Measures, but it works.

Someone's Shade is passing out every negative effect in the game. Bow weakness works, maybe also Dagger and something else for game balance I dunno.

Ochette's Full Boost quote for this fight is "I can't forgive you!"

At some point Temenos makes the connection between some of Petrichor's comments and Roi's disappearance, promptly flips out.

The Flamechurch Flame

The design philosophy here is basically OKAY EVERYONE, PUT ON YOUR ARCANETTE HATS, TODAY WE ARE BEING MEAN TO TEMENOS! And part of that is making him watch two of the most important people in his life aid and protect their killer. So that's 3 and 4. 3 has the extra gutpunch of making him wait for the other shoe to drop.

Crick's Shade can keep his playable moveset. Weak to Sword/Staff/Dark. You know why. Crick is watching Temenos.... -> For a moment, a player could mistake this for a "skip a turn" message, maybe a hint that the people who left the Shades behind are still in there (this is intended to be perceived in-universe)... NOPE THAT'S THE BOOST MESSAGE. Also a callback to the Felvarg. Should we make Crick's Shade have a Boost Attack that sacrifices itself, or is that too limiting in Mean To Temenos potential?

Pontiff Jörg's Shade gets the Standard Cleric Weaknesses of Sword/Dagger/Axe/Dark. It has reason to use the Cleric moveset, but I was thinking we could nab something else from the Claude fight and give it Reflective Veil from the OT1 Cleric. Also, Lock Away. The move that prevents the target from recieving aid or items from any other party member. (And a slight nod to Whatever Was Up With Alpates.) Starts battle by using it on Temenos.

(Balance-wise, Temenos can break Crick with his base kit but not the Pontiff partially because this works with the story - Temenos hitting Crick's worldview with a metaphorical sledgehammer vs That's Your Dad - and partially because between Temenos' Latent and Throné turning into a protective blender it's probably fine.)

Throné uses her "Sorry, but I won't hold back!" Max Boosting quote for this fight, but even using the same voice clip it's meant to come off in a slightly different light. (You ever think about how her HP Thief bark is a sarcastic "You're too kind." and her "healed by Temenos" bark is a much more genuine "You're too kind, Temenos"? Because I have.) Temenos tries to talk himself out of a breakdown when Max Boosting. He fails. Possibly devolving from "keep it together, that isn't really him" early in the fight to beaten-dog whimpering in the second phase.

2v2 narrative puzzle ramble One reason I'm more inclined to use this for a fic is that the Journey For The Dawn locks you out of your daytime Path Actions. Sun's not rising. In writing, there's less trouble with carving out an exception in the game mechanics. The idea I had was that the Shade battles would yank the corresponding travelers into a sort of dream space where it isn't day exclusive or night. Kind of like a cross between Temenos' "The truth lies in the flame" Detective Vision thing and whatever was going on while Hikari duked it out with his shadow. (Said shadow: "Not me this time. I'm not touching that with a ten-foot pole.") From the outside, the two fighting appear to be asleep standing up, twitching and mumbling as if caught in a particularly vivid dream. Temenos "Commitment to the bit" Mistral sees two people snap out of that trance for the first time and immediately goes "Welcome back. ^_^" Throné may or may not be winding up to smack him.

This also works with having both the Arcanette fight and the Shade fight at Flamechurch. Arcanette certainly looks like she could cast Spell of Really Bad Trip. Basically Throné and Temenos are in the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Boss Fight while everyone else is trying very hard to kill Arcanette with hammers.

Back to Path Actions, I still don't know how all of those would work. Going down the list

Agnea: Entreat to get "Tanzy" to show you her journal works, Allure doesn't. Both these people have chosen their paths. Hikari: Challenge is a little redundant but potentially serviceable, Bribe less so.

Partitio: Purchase and Hire could both work for trying to coax "Ori" back to the land of the living. Purchasing a paper moreso. Osvald: Trying to get at Lucian's notes fits Scrutinize or Mug, although Mug is again redundant. Let him see that!

Ochette: Provoke is already happening, especially with Petrichor's Shade dropping everything to focus Ochette down if she summons one of the Creatures of Legend. Befriend is... not happening. Petrichor can starve. (Party pretty sure this is the first time they're heard Ochette curse.) Castti: Inquiring to get the unknown apothecary's name so the party can effectively lay him to rest is kind of sweet. In that vein, Soothe has already been done with Malaya and also believe her she's trying!

Temenos: Guide has also been done already, and Coerce is not only kind of already happening but isn't going to work on Shades. Sorry, Temenos, no chances to say goodbye for you. Throné: Stealing in combat is already part of the Thief kit (also pickpocketing Temenos' family in front of him is Not Cool Dude). Ambush is OP in anything resembling an actual fight, so that's another no.

So we're 4/16, 5.5/16 with partial credit included. Unless you have better ideas. Still wish to subscribe to your newsletter.

Latent Powers, Talents, and EX Skills though...

All Together Now... probably not. Dance Session maybe. Song of Hope a more positive maybe Learned Skills would be great if this were Jin Mei's Shade. See Light's Radiance prompt above.

Hilarious though Negotiate Schedule may be, nothing of Partitio's really works here. Teach... maybe?

Indomitable Beast into Beastly Fangs looks fun. Or Indomitable Beast into Provoke Beasts. Get her ass, fellas! Concoct has potential for showing the Apothecary's Shade how it's done... except it's mindless.

Moonlight Judgement: hehehe. Could have it not proc at the start of battle, wait until Temenos pulls himself together enough to effectively fight the Shades. This works better in the Arcanette + Shades version of the fight. Prayer for Plenty and Heavenly Shine both have story potential. Blessing of Darkness: "Consider the following: mine's better." Veil of Darkness is also good here.

Took "standard class weaknesses" from the Dolcinea fight with Love's Marionette, for the record.

Things about Octopath Traveler 2 that I think about WAY too much 2/????

Under the cut for late game spoilers, loose and speculative nonsense

So the four sacred flames and their connections with the gods connected to each one.

Brand and Sealticge to the Ku Flame

Alephan and Bifelgan to the Crackridge Flame

Dohter and Draefendi to the Toto'haha Flame

And Aelfric and Aeber to the Flameschurch Flame

Going to go ahead and put it out there, that my head canon is that the Moonshade order successfully completed the sacrifices line out in the Book of Night in this manner: Pontiff Jorg (Cleric, Temenos chapter 1), unnamed apothecary in Canalbrine (Temenos Chapter 2), scholar in Canalbrine (who's name I don't remember, also from Temenos Chapter 2) Tanzy (dancer/Sealticge aligned), Petrichor (Hunter), Ageha (Warrior), Ori (merchant), and Crick (Thief, as mentioned in some dialogue in Stormhail about his background).

I feel like, in a lot of ways, these flames would have been great spots for boss fights. I feel like, for a game like Octopath Traveler 2, just getting to relight the flames with ease was a bit too easy. There's a couple of different routes I personally would have taken with them.

Option 1 (least favorite) - the party fights a shadow creature of some type (excluding in Flameschurch because there is already a boss fight there). Alternatively, remix the chosen travelers' final chapter boss fight.

Option 2 - the party fights the shadows of the sacrifices associated with that flames gods (so Ku would be Ageha and Tanzy, Crackridge would be Ori and the scholar from Temenos Chapter 2, Toto'haha would be Petrichor and that unnamed apothecary from Temenos's Chapter 2, and Flameschurch (after Arcanette), would be Crick and the Pontiff (not a fun fight for Temenos especially)). Standard boss fights would be cool, but you could go a step further and have it a two on two fight with the chosen travelers against those shadows where path actions and skills came into play in defeating the shadows. Also makes the relighting of the flames a bit more personal. You've got potential either way with this option for some really cool character exploration and thematic resolution. This one is probably my personal favorite.

Option 3 - the party (or just the chosen travelers for that flame) fight the gods themselves (as a test). There's a few ways to do this too: 1. fight images of the gods. 2. the statues of the gods by the flames come to life and you fight those, not dissimilar to Osvald's chapter 4 fight with the Golem. 3. You fight a being of combined powers of the two gods, a strange and otherworldly combination of Alephan and Bifelgan for example, staff and scales in hand, plying magic and calling allies, making it rain in leaves as easily as flashes of magic lightning, or Brand and Sealticge (which I think would look something akin to Hinoekagura). This is also a personal favorite just to see how when faced with the gods, our travelers might act, when within the world itself the gods are mostly pretty hands off. The situation with Vide is an urgent one, and I think the gods would be willing to test their chosen in the final hour to make sure that they are truly ready.

I just think it would have been neat

[one-piece-aus]

Whumptober Day 5

Sabo x Reader

TW: Home invasion

[y/c] = your city

"Weakness." You punched Sabo into the lava and watched him burn to death.

"[Y/n] I was in the middle of collecting quartz," Sabo whined and respawned back at his base.

"Karma's a bitch," you laughed.

You were playing Minecraft with your online friend Sabo, who you've been playing online games with for the past 10 years. Started ever since you got Minecraft as a kid and played on servers, after playing a few mini-games you friended him, and eventually, you exchanged Discord users (when it became a thing). Yeah, yeah, the internet is a dangerous place, blah blah blah, Sabo was cool though, you trusted him, you've already done video calls with him, and honestly he's been there for you more than anyone else.

There were countless late nights where you two stayed up, gaming while discussing some deep topics. Sometimes they were philosophical nonsense, other times they were about struggles going on in life, you both cried over call during those kinds of nights. Safe to say you and Sabo's friendship was real, you just wished he lived near you so he could visit-

"Oh now I'm not going to share the surprise I was going to tell you," Sabo said when he teleported back to the nether.

"Surprise? What surprise?" You crouched your Minecraft character in front of him.

"Nooooo, I'm not going to say." Sabo walked around you and begun mining quartz once again.

"Come onnnnn, Sabo."

"Surprises are for nice spouses."

Ah, that's right, I forgot to mention your married Sabo in Minecraft, for "XP benefits" of course.

"I'll give you golden apples."

"Mhmmmmm."

"And... a three stacks of cookies."

"Well why didn't you just say so!" Sabo spun around and picked up the items you dropped for him before going on his merry way.

"Okay, now tell me," you said following after him.

"So you remember how I said my brothers and I planning to go on a trip over Christmas?" Sabo asked as he started to build a bridge over lava.

"Yeah, kinda sucks since that means you won't be able to play online," you grumble as you slowly crept behind him as he placed blocks. Playing with Sabo was all you looked forward to these days so him reminding you that you wouldn't be able to play with him during that time, you felt your mood deflate.

"Well guess where we're going."

"Uhhhh Tim Buck Two."

"No, we're going to [y/c]."

"Really!?" Your demeanour spun a 180, your excitement pulled a shiny smile across your face.

"I knew you'd be happy but I didn't think you'd get the same energy when you see your favourite blorbos on screen," Sabo laughed as the two of you were now bridging over a group of piglins on the ground.

"Because you are one of my little blorbo husbandos," you cooed knowing it'd fluster him.

"...I'd like to see you say that to me in person."

"You say that like I won't."

"[Y/n], you can barely ask an employee for help at the grocery store."

"Shush." You hit Sabo off the bridge and watched him fall to his doom, or so you thought. He placed a water block on the ground, in the nether. "Are you using your hacks again!?"

"You better move before I get back up and knock you off," Sabo warned.

"You won't dare."

"Or I would-" Sabo cut himself off when he heard something loud thud over on your end. "What was that?"

"Hm?" You were playing music in the background, talking to Sabo, and listening to Minecraft sounds with your noise-cancelling headphones so you didn't hear it.

"Something heavy fell over on your end."

"You're not messing with me are you?"

"Ace does that trick, not me."

"I wouldn't put it past you to use one of your brother's tricks."

"Okay, I'll stop building up-" Sabo ceased stacking blocks and looked up at your character. "You pause your game and check what fell over."

"Fine." You pause your game and start to take your headphones off.

"Wait!"

"Whaaaat?"

"Turn your camera on."

"Why?"

"It's... I just got a bad feeling."

"Okay..." You shrugged off Sabo's uneasiness and turned on your camera before taking off your headphones and started looking around your room to see what fell.

"Must've fell outside," you muttered heading toward your bedroom door and opening it.

Sabo couldn't see what was outside your door, whatever stood out there made you slam your shut and scramble to push your dresser in front of the door. Goosebumps crawled over his skin as realization hit him that shit is hitting the fan. He fumbled on his end to grab his phone and rapidly tapped buttons.

"Sabo..." You were now back in front of the computer, the dresser completely blocking the door. "Call the cops."

"Way ahead of you," Sabo said as the phone began ringing. "What's going on?"

"There's...there's a guy in...in my house." You could hardly pull your words together since your brain is currently spinning around to find the way for you to survive. "He...he's throwing things around... I think...I think he saw me." You started typing your address to Sabo so he could tell the cops where to go, you sent it before but it'd take too long for him to scroll up to find it. 

Sabo muted himself, probably so he wouldn't be heard talking to the cops. You backed away from the computer again, this time grabbing your bookshelf full of manga and pushing it in front of your door. Once that also blocked the door, you glanced around for more things to push in front of the door but the only heavy stuff left was your bed and desk which could be hiding places that the intruder could look around, and any few seconds he wasn't finding you was a second more of survival.

You picked up your headset and put it back on, Sabo was still muted. You clicked on the Minecraft tab so it'd cover your screen and he- if the invader came into your room- wouldn't know your camera was on with a witness. You took your phone just in case, making sure it was on silent and hid in the closet, making sure no sound came when you closed the door. You climbed into your laundry basket, burying yourself under your dirty clothes, for once grateful you forgot to do laundry.

"Okay, the cops are on their way- [Y/N]?? Where are you [Y/n]???" Sabo felt his heart drop.

"i'm in the closet," you whispered.

"Why didn't you climb out your window?"

"don't you remember that i told you the lock is broken? i live on the 10th, that's suicide," you whisper-shouted.

"Just stay on call, okay, police will be there soon."

"...okay."

Your meek voice squeezed Sabo's heart, his wish he was there to deal with the guy himself, or at this to be there to reassure you everything is going to be okay. Alas, all he could do was sit there on the other end of the screen, helpless as you both listened to something banging on your door.

Tag: @bookandyarndragon @roseoftrafalgar

[celira]

5/5+1

Everything had gone to hell remarkably quickly. 

Or maybe it was more remarkable that everything hadn’t gone meaningfully worse until then.

Camilla and Coronabeth stood at the one-way viewport of their shuttle, watching the advancing line grimly. All the ships she’d recognized from their months at the previous planet – and a few more she’d never seen, to boot – had been mustered and now ringed what was quickly becoming a battlefield. The two of them weren’t part of the primary defense; Camilla was still barely better than a captive. Carrying around bones that caused Blood of Eden passersby to hiss and make signs to ward off evil, she supposed that she still warranted suspicion in their eyes. 

Skeletal phalanges curled in the pouch around her neck, now, tapping out code to her in furtive moments – far from the confinement of her early days, she rarely found herself alone as of late. 

But she hadn’t known about the troop movements until Corona – the recently-anointed Crown, in all her sudden but inevitable betrayal – showed up and announced that they’d found themselves en route to intercepting a swarm of advancing Cohort ships. Cooperation was the lesser evil for the time being.

She glanced back at the canvas that covered Gideon Nav’s uncannily intact body. Perhaps it was a mercy. The dissonance of ringing metal and crossfire in the distance was slowly growing louder, and Camilla fingered the hilts of one of the knives she’d been given in spite of the general distaste she was subject to. A study in contradictions. 

There was no sense standing there, waiting for a break in the line or the outcome of the fight, but there was seemingly no sense to the movements of their attackers at all.

Suddenly she spotted movement out of the corner of her eye, startlingly close, and spun around. Two sets of Cohort pairs – how had she missed the telltale red of a Second necromancer and cavalier? –  so far from the main force didn't bode well. She looked at Corona, whose violet gaze was slanted in thought. Camilla jerked her head toward the shuttle entry and unsheathed both knives with a resonant slide. Corona unholstered the gun at her hip. Their eyes met again; a brisk nod one, hand hovering over the door release, another nod two, and–

Three things happened in quick succession. The shuttle door slammed open; Camilla darted out, Corona peering around behind the entry to provide cover fire; a deafening screech drew the attention of everyone in the area. 

Camilla saw the side of the ship in front of theirs distort impossibly, shimmering like air over heat, then burst, sending a shower of rivets and debris spraying across the space between the two craft. 

She hit the ground, rolling behind their shuttle’s landing gear and narrowly dodging superheated metal. The Cohort pair closest to the explosion was less fortunate – an agonized scream; the necromancer went down, gruesomely burned. Their cavalier, pinned by a panel, was out of commission for now. 

Camilla took this in with a glance and moved into a crouch – and corkscrewed upward, whirling to catch the downswing of the other pair’s cavalier, rapier locked against her crossed knives. She bore her weight against and sent them stumbling back a pace with an outward arc. Camilla punched forward before they could regain their footing, dodging the wild swing of their rapier. She allowed a glancing slice on her bicep from their offhand rondel, but it cost them; she ducked under their guard and opened two mirrored red lines from chest to neck. 

The cav crumpled like wet paper, and Camilla tried not to think about that, beyond wondering: where was their necro?

She heard voices to her left, and edged as quietly as possible around the side of the other ship, silently willing the gravel beneath her feet to hold.

“The Second necros I’ve known had a bad habit of getting back up and causing more trouble,” a voice said heavily.

"You better pray I don't get up this time around," came the rejoinder.

“I won’t hold my breath,” the first voice replied; Camilla peeked one eye around the open entrance. A wiry, ropy figure was pointing an ancient-looking revolver around a large bundle in their arms at the pinned, and fired. The necromancer slumped like a puppet with cut strings.

The bundle was–

“Harrowhark?” Camilla burst out, adrenaline and the circumstances of their last meeting loosening her tongue. The revolver swung around and bore down Camilla’s line of sight; she froze. Some distance behind her, where Harrow’s name had summoned her from her perch at the shuttle door, Corona did as well. 

“Who are you?” said the person holding Harrow. “How do you know her?”

“Is she alive?” Corona called.

“Not entirely sure,” they admitted. 

“I have medical training,” said Camilla. “She saved our lives once. The rest can wait.”

The revolver lowered, and the person motioned toward the interior of the ship they’d just…burst from? Shelter was shelter, and Camilla followed. They laid Harrow gently on the floor between the them. Contusions and gashes aside, she looked like she had been taken apart and reassembled by a creature working from an oral history of humans, bones in roughly the correct spots but inexpertly aligned and only somewhat connected. Her limbs lay akimbo; her chest, an uneven hollow.

Having brought up the rear, Corona pushed forward. “It can wait for you, at least. I’m Coronabeth Tridentarius–” (“are you again, now,” Camilla muttered) “–and this is Camilla Hect.”

“Third and Sixth,” mused the person. “Explains how you’re all acquainted.”

“How the hell do you–”

"I was a Lyctor," they said. And in the wake of that stunning declaration: “Sort of.”

Camilla said, “Was.”

“My necromancer was Gideon the First, who they called the Saint of Duty. I’m Pyrrha Dve, his cavalier. He’s dead. I’m still here.”

Camilla said, succinctly, hands still flying over Harrow’s body, “The fuck.”

“That’s about the reaction I got the first time I had to explain that, yeah,” said the not-Saint of Duty. “I don’t think I fancy doing it again soon. It’s getting old fast.”

Not having before met a topic she wouldn’t broach, Corona said, “So you’re a woman? In this–”

“Priorities,” Camilla interjected. “Harrow’s not breathing, her pulse is shot, she’s broken more things than I care to count out.” She touched the bag around her neck reflexively, a tic she needed to suppress, if only because it was too obvious and invited remarks like– 

“Harrowhark gave the Warden’s Hand a hand,” murmured Coronabeth. Everyone, for once, ignored her. “How can I help?”

“Third, go back to the shuttle. The body’s still in there.”

“That’s not my title any more. And she’s not going anywhere.”

“Check anyway. Pyrrha Dve, you’ll breathe for her.” Pyrrha tilted Harrow’s face up and forward. Good. He – she – knew what she was doing, it seemed.

“What are you going to do?”

“Chest compressions,” Camilla said. 

Corona stammered, “Her – it's broken –” 

“I know her sternum’s shattered; ignore it,” Camilla said flatly. Urgency and Corona’s unerring affinity for the spotlight were making her snappish. “We need that heart pumping. On my mark.”

Pyrrha positioned her face over the dark head, already birdlike and still somehow smaller and more fragile than ever. Corona backed away.

“Starting.” Camilla drove her palms down, heedless of the bone grinding beneath them. She hit her count, turned to Pyrrha: “Go. Two breaths.” She waited until the second long exhale, and started again. 

As they watched her try to shake herself apart, Camilla felt an inexplicable warmth at her eyes, then a brief answering pulse at her fingertips – unfamiliar, but not unknown. She paused, considering the circuit between the hand seeking comfort from the ever-constant bones she carried and the hand that rested on Harrow’s jerking form, and dismissed the wishful thought. 

Time dilated and contracted in a methodical cycle until the ravaged chest beneath them heaved, the movement excruciating, the act of trying to scream morphing into an aborted cough that could only have made every bone fragment in her ribcage light up in stretched-out agony, a torture wheel of a feedback loop.

Camilla moved her hands away from Harrow’s convulsing chest, one hand reaching to her own neck and the other sliding to Harrow’s side; Pyrrha pinned Harrow by the upper arms, her wrists too fractured, every jostle asking and answering a flare of compounding, relentless pain. “Come on, kid,” Pyrrha muttered. “Get that healing back online. You can handle this. You should.”

Harrow spasmed violently once, twice more, and something shifted, the amplitude of her movements settling into a jerky tremble as beneath her skin, grotesquely and surely, bone started to slot itself back into place.

Camilla blinked. “That healing” – the likes of which she hadn’t seen since Cytherea walked unveiled before them – was putting it lightly.

Pyrrha blew out a short, relieved breath, then narrowed her eyes at Camilla. “What–”

Corona crashed back into the bay in an agitated flurry of hair. “She’s gone.”

“What.”

“So is the other Cohort pair. They must have–” 

Camilla’s snappishness hadn’t abated: “You had one job.”

Corona ignored her in turn. “Where’s the Captain?”

“Still in the Gorgon–” Scarcely had the words left Camilla’s mouth that Corona took off at a run toward the converted Cohort vehicle. Pyrrha, clearly knowing any intel the other Lyctors had known, took off after her.

Camilla had kept long months of faith, for the Warden, for their collective goals, for the loyalties they’d felt honor-bound to uphold – and just as they’d found Harrow, Gideon’s body was gone. Taken. Adrenaline depleted, she leaned on the wall and let herself sink roughly to the floor. The bag around her neck bounced with the impact, and she reached in, touching a finger to their contents. The battle raged on outside, but she allowed herself a moment to feel the weight of another obstacle. Another neutron-star line item, a quietly crushing to-do. 

A drop of sweat rolled down her cheek; she brushed it off absently – then stared at the smear of dilute red across the back of her hand. She reached a hand up to the bag again, recalling the icy heat in her fingers, barely daring to believe this, too, wanting nothing more than to drop everything and hide away and methodically and exhaustively figure out what in all that was holy or unholy was going on.

An indulgence she never took and was hardly about to now.

You know what to do. She had a patient in critical care, the person around whom all their plans revolved.

As ever, she stood.

[evillittlebirdie]

Protector: Karlach/Tav

Part One Part Two

"Tav, watch out!"

But it was too late. 

Like a fool, Tav stood still and looked up. At first, he saw a collection of circles within one another. And then, Tav experienced a tremendous amount of pain. The metal chandelier hit Tav's body, forcing the sorcerer to his belly. Someone was screaming and Tav realized it was him. He was the one crying out in agony. Tav was pinned under the metal chandelier, his body weighed down. He was a slight elf with little muscle. As a magic user and formerly pampered paramour of a Matriarch, Tav didn't need to work on his physique outside of vanity. Now he wished that he was strong enough. 

Tav could not move. He tried to turn his body but was only met with dense metal. He could not even move his arms. His head was killing him. 

The sound of battle echoed throughout the hall. Karlach, Lae'zel, and Shadowheart were fighting the bulk of the horde. Tav had lingered behind, casting his spells from a safe distance. But when the archer shot the chandelier's chain, it was the worst spot in the hall. 

This was it. He was going to die. Shadowheart's spells were depleted. She couldn't heal him. Karlach might have a health poultice in her backpack, but she needed it for herself. She  needed  it for herself. Tav could feel something wrong in his arm. Tav's eyes drifted to the left and he was almost wretched at the sight of the twisted appendage. Broken. The same feeling was in both of his legs. One of his arms and both of his legs were broken. Absolutely useless. 

They would leave him to die under that chandelier. Tav was the most vulnerable link. His childhood and early adulthood in Menzoberranzan taught him that the weak must be culled. 

The weight was pressing on Tav's back. His breathing was restricted. He would die slowly. It was a proper punishment for not getting out of the way. It was the mistake of an amateur, not a leader. 

Karlach was yelling. Tav was used to her shouting. He could differentiate her happy hollering and her raging screams. 

Tav couldn't be her leader. Who was he kidding? Karlach would be a good leader. She was a decent person who brought up morale and fought for everyone around her. Tav would be honored to hand over the responsibility to her.

Hmmm, it sounded like Karlach's roars were growing louder...growing closer.

Suddenly, Tav felt like he could take in a proper breath. He felt the chandelier's weight grow lighter. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. Tav didn't realize that Karlach was merely feet from him. She was pulling up the outer ring of the chandelier. Lae'zel and Shadowheart flanked her left and right, fighting off the horde of enemies. Karlach's muscles tightened as she strained to pick up the chandelier. She was yelling as she lifted the chandelier just high enough for Tav to pull himself. Tav used his unbroken arm to pull himself. But it was in vain. He was exhausted and he wasn't strong enough to force his body forward.

"Lae'zel, cover me!" Shadowheart called out to Lae'zel before spinning around. Lae'zel successfully swung her greatsword and cleaved three enemies at once. Shadowheart ducked under the chandelier and grabbed Tav's free hand. She pulled him out from under the chandelier. Karlach let the chandelier fall with a loud clang. 

Meanwhile, Shadowheart tried to help Tav up to his feet. Tav only howled in pain as Shadowheart tried to make him stand. Karlach's eyes widened in worry at the sound of Tav's distress.

"Hells, his legs are broken," Shadowheart informed the women. 

"There are too many," Lae'zel called out, turning only for the briefest of moments. "I need help."

"Go!" Karlach told Shadowheart as she moved in to pick Tav up. Shadowheart grabbed her spear and went back to Lae'zel's side. Tav felt nearly weightless when Karlach picked him up bridal style before cradling him into her side. He was in too much discomfort to make a quip about the position. "Hang on, sweetheart. I've got you." She dashed away from the group and reached into her armor. She pulled out a health poultice.

Tav stared at it incredulously. "Karlach, no. That's yours. You need it." They had already done too much. Tav saw wounds that were not present before the chandelier fell. 

"I will not let you fucking die," Karlach cried out. She used her teeth to pull the cork out of the potion and spat the cork away. She brought the potion to Tav's mouth and begged, "You drink. You need to drink and get better." 

Tav almost choked on the wave of liquid that poured into his mouth. But he was able to swallow the healing potion. It was not a large one, but it was enough to save him from permanent damage. 

Karlach gave a watery laugh when Tav finished the potion. "There he goes. You aren't going to leave me so easily." Tears still pooled in her eyes but she was smiling now. Karlach tossed the empty potion to the side and kissed Tav fiercely on his lips. Tav returned the kiss enthusiastically even as his head swam. 

Karlach lowered Tav to the ground delicately and stood in front of him protectively. Tav watched in amazement as Karlach pulled out her crossbow and shot at the enemy. She did not leave his side. She would never leave his side. 

[sometimesraven]

Pray.

Whumptober No. 5: “You better pray I don't get up this time around.”

Fandom: Dead by Daylight POV Character: Nea Karlsson Whumpee: Nea Karlsson & Meg Thomas

Sometimes even in the toughest of games, spite is enough to keep you going.

AO3 Link

The killer was toying with them.

Nea hissed out a frustrated breath through bloodied teeth as she sprinted for what felt like the hundredth time through the twists and turns of the Memorial Institute -- or this twisted game-board version of it that the Entity had created today. The Doctor wasn't far behind: he'd been dogging them for most of the game now, knocking one of the four players to the ground only to laugh as they writhed with his electroshocks over and over.

The pain was so absolute it was scarcely noticeable by now. Adrenaline kept her pushing forward while flickering hallucinations danced in her vision. It was just Nea and Meg, now, as it often ended up in games like this. Eventually the Doctor would get tired of tormenting one of them and actually let them die in a slow, dragging bleed-out. There was some solace in that, at least -- the Entity wouldn't be happy with him for keeping its sacrifices this way.

A cry behind her stopped Nea in her tracks. The sound of a body hitting the ground with a heavy thump. Nea span to assess the damage, only to see blinding white and stars as the Doctor's spiked stick made contact with her already bloodied, mutilated face.

Her eyes met Meg's as she met her on the ground. The girl's eyes were swimming with tears, and she didn't struggle as a pool of blood slowly grew beneath her. She looked more tired than Nea had ever seen her, and Nea knew with a squeeze in her chest that she had given up. There was a goodbye in the wobbling smile she gave that Nea knew well. See you in the next one.

As the light died from her eyes and the gong to signal another death rang out, Nea pushed herself onto her elbows, glaring at the forced grin of Herman Carter above her. If he let her wriggle from his arms again, she would drive that stick directly through his twisted ballsack.

He'd better pray she didn't get up this time.

[highcaliberstupidity]

Whumptober Day 5 In the End Rating Explicit CW's/Tags Main Character Death, Implied/Referenced MCD, Price is shot at the end, everyone in the 141 is dead and it is mentioned/brought up, it's straight angst, just all angst Characters John Price, Valdimir Makarov Summary

He’s not even sure what he’s holding out for. No one is coming for him. There’s no one left to come for him.

Jonathan Price was many things. 

But delusional was not one of them. 

Still, a tiny part of him, withered with time and gun smoke and danger, had hoped he might pass peacefully. 

Instead he’s trapped, a slab of concrete twice as wide as he is tall, pinning him from the waist down. Another’s layered over it, the corner stabbing into his shoulder, chunks of rebar digging into his chest. 

It hurts, hurts enough that he’s slipping in and out of consciousness more than he can count. 

He’s not even sure what he’s holding out for. 

No one is coming for him. 

There’s no one left to come for him. 

This had been their last stand, Sterling Lines, a once grand base, now nothing more than a shelled-out and brittle complex. It’s kind of ironic, dying where he started, where he became more than just a soldier. 

Where he became Lieutenant, where he became Captain . 

It’s where he spent the better part of his thirty-seven years on earth. It’s where he trained men like Soap, where he put men like Ghost back together, where he lifted young men like Gaz up for recognition. 

Sterling Lines had been his home. 

Sterling Lines had been their home. 

Fitting, that he would die here, amongst the rubble of a place that held nearly every happy memory he held so carefully to his chest. Where he’d laughed, where he’d fought, where he’d found family and friends. 

The sound of movement in the debris grabs his attention, and he shifts his head what little he can. 

It’s dark out, stars filling the sky as fire illuminates the rubble. 

“Ah, I was hoping you were still alive.” A smiling, pale face comes into view, floating over the rubble as the dark shapes of helmeted soldiers pour around him. “The great Jonathan Price, finally brought to heel.” 

“Makarov.” It comes out guttural and wheezed, agonized . The man's smile curls ever larger, nearly splitting his face in two like some macabre creature. 

“It has been a long time coming, Captain.” He hums, stepping closer as his eyes roam, taking in the scene. He knows he has him now, caught and helpless. 

At his mercy. 

“How many years now, have we played this silly game of cat and mouse?” His head tilts, as he squats by his side, toying now with a pistol Price didn’t see him draw. He doesn’t answer, won’t give him the satisfaction. He will die with at least a touch of his dignity in tack. But he doesn’t seem to care. “Nearly ten years, I believe. Well before you forged your precious task force.” He makes a face, expression sour at the words. “You’ve been a thorn in my side for far, far too long.” 

Price only stares back, eyes cold and cutting, fingers itching for a gun, a knife, anything . 

“I must admit, it’s a shame.” Eyes filled with mocking sorrow lift to his own, and he wants to spit at him. “I truly wish your little band of miscreants could have been here to see this.” The sorrow turns to glee, lips splitting as he grins again. “A true shame, that all of it was for nothing.” 

Price begins to squirm again, wheezing and snarling as he shoves against the immovable debris holding him pinned. He’ll kill him, he has no fucking right to speak of them. 

“Well, there is one silver lining I suppose.” He chuckles when Price’s exhaustion finally forces his struggles to abate, his limbs numb and limp as he bares his teeth. “They aren’t here to see your failure.” Makarov shrugs, lips pursing in thought. “They all looked up to you, such loyal little dogs, even to the last one. What was his name, Klint, Ken, hmm, no, Kyle! Yes, that was his name. Kyle Garrick, Gaz .” 

Jonathan isn’t a man that cries, or at least, he wasn’t . 

He thinks he’s cried more tears in the past six months than he has in years . 

But here he is, hot tears mixing with blood and tracking down through the grime of his face as his strength saps farther and farther. 

“He cared so much for you, so loyal to the bitter end. I admired his strength, his tenacity .” The sick bastard almost looks fond as he speaks, fingers running absentmindedly over his pistol grip. “But oh, it was so worth the look on your face when I put a bullet in his forehead on that bridge.” And he laughs, laughs when Price turns away, teeth gritting as he sobs . 

Gaz had been a good fucking man , better than anyone Price had met. Better than himself . 

And it was Price’s fault he was gone . 

It was Price’s fault that all of them were gone. 

Farah to a sniper, Alex to a rogue piece of shrapnel, Soap to a bomb he couldn’t diffuse, Ghost to a swarm of Konni, even Laswell and Nikolai, their helo shot down. 

Gaz had been the last piece of his cobbled-together family, had been the last thing keeping him sane . 

He’d failed them all. Hadn’t protected them, had led them to their fates. 

Makarov’s still speaking, but he isn’t listening now, everything slowly slipping away as his body grows weaker and colder. 

It’s his fault they're gone, and soon… He’ll be right there with him. 

Another name lost to history. 

A tap on his cheek brings him back, finds Makarov looking down at him with an expression that almost looks… Sympathetic. 

“I believe I will choose kindness today, Jonathan.” And he wants to scream because kindness from men like him is leaving them alive and broken so that they have to live with the weight of their sins and failures. 

And he can’t . 

He can’t . 

So when he cocks the gleaming pistol in his hands, Price nearly sobs with relief. 

“May your next life be easy, Jonathan.” His expression remains the same, real , and Price needs to know why . 

“W-Why.” It’s barely audible, and for just a moment, he doesn’t think the man hears him, as he brings the pistol to bare. 

“Because you were a worthy opponent, Captain. I had fun, with this game of ours. I believe that entitles you to something, does it not? I would only hope the same for myself.” He says it softly, with weight , and Price doesn’t understand, won’t try to. 

There isn’t enough time for him to decipher it anyway. 

“Thank you.” He manages to grate out, his words small and broken, sounding more like a breath than speech. 

“Goodbye, Jonathan.” Theres a click, audible, as Price lets his eyes slip shut one last time. 

And then blissful nothing.

[losthavenmine]

Whumptober 2023 Day 5 || "You better pray I don't get up this time around"

[sheppardsmckay]

Whumptober2023

No. 5: “You better pray I don't get up this time around.”

[whumpsday]

K&J: Kane's Whumptober Bites #5

Chronological masterlist / Writing order masterlist

content: vampire whumpee, defiant whumpee, broken bones, torture, captivity

@whumptober Day 5: “You better pray I don't get up this time around.” / Pinned Down / “It's broken.”

this one's early captivity kane, when he still has fight in him :)

-

“Fuck you!” Kane shouted, tears in his eyes and voice alike. He hated it. He’d always been an angry crier, and it didn’t help that he was terrified out of his mind, now, too.

Not that he’d ever admit it.

“That’s not very nice,” the hunter pinning him with a boot to the chest mocked.

Kane should have been able to crush him. He would have been able to, the pressure on his chest not even the mildest of inconveniences, but he hadn’t fed in over a month. His body was running on fumes. He hated how good the hunter smelled.

The thought snowballed, became inescapable, and he found himself weakly snapping at the hunter’s ankle. Pinned like this, it was just barely out of reach.

“Hey.” The hunter suddenly stomped down, a couple of Kane’s brittle ribs. He gasped, yanked out of his blood-crazed fervor.

“I’ll kill you,” he wheezed, any force he tried to put behind the threat dying. It was too hard to breathe, and the hunter’s boot still dug into his broken bones– it only made him cry more, until his view of his tormenter became too blurred with tears to make out.

The hunter laughed and pressed down harder. Kane would have screamed if he were able, shards of bone pressing into his lungs. “Yeah, you keep telling yourself that.”

[serickswrites]

"You Better Pray"

Warnings: captivity, torture, sadistic whumper, broken bones, beating, physical violence, blood, restraints

Whumper cackled with glee as they struck Whumpee once more. Whumpee couldn't contain their muffled squeal of pain as they lost their balance in the standing cuffs and began to swing again, their shoulders aflame once more with unbearable pain.

"PLEASE!" They shrieked.

"Oh, you want more?" Whumper smirked. "You asked so kindly, I must oblige you." And they punched Whumpee in the ribs once more.

Whumpee could feel the skin split around Whumper's brass knuckles. Could feel blood run down their side. It had been like this for the last few hours. Whumper pummeling them to a pulp. And Whumpee suffering all through it.

Initially, they had tried to be stoic. Had tried to not give Whumper that satisfaction of their cries. They knew they would be bruised, but they could handle it. Until Whumper began to beat them in earnest.

Whumper, it seemed, had only been warming up. They had struck Whumpee in the face hard, breaking Whumpee's nose in the process. That was the first time Whumpee had cried out. Cried out around the blood that dripped down their face. Cried out around how difficult it was to breathe. And cried out because that was when their pain began.

So as Whumper raised their hand once more and Whumpee desperately tried to grip the ground with their toes to keep from swaying, Whumpee began to beg and plead. "PLEASE! ANYTHING! I WILL DO ANYTHING! JUST STOP! PLEASE!"

Whumper paused their motion, a wicked smile filling their face. "Oh look, it's broken. How precious." Whumper circled Whumpee with predatory grace. "And now all the fun can really begin." And they jumped onto Whumpee's back and pulled with all their might.

[oxideblack]

[medusapelagia]

Eddie's Month Day 5 + Whumptober Day 5

written for @eddiemonth and @whumptober-archive 

Prompts: Eddie’s month day 5: Role Model | Slow Down - Ozzy Osbourne | Brave Whumptober day 5: “You better pray I don't get up this time around.” - Debris | Pinned Down | “It's broken.” Rating: Mature Relationship: Eddie Munson/Steve Harrington WT: injuries, hospital WC: 1308

Some moments define your life.

Moments that seem like others and then, when you rethink about them, you realize that they were particular moments that changed your entire life.

The first one was the day Wayne decided to visit his brother when he came back from Vietnam.

Eddie didn’t really like the silent man who kept smoking one cigarette after another while looking at him with something that he wasn’t able to define. It took him a few years but he finally understood that he was looking at him with pity.

That day, even if Eddie didn’t know it, was the day Wayne decided that the kid deserved something more than a junkie as a mother and a petty thief as a father.

It took Wayne almost three years to gain Eddie’s custody, but in the end, the State was more than happy to give a troubled kid to an adult who was willing to raise him while his parents were in prison.

That day, the first day he met Wayne, Eddie was wearing a band t-shirt his father shoplifted somewhere and that was way too big for him, but he loved it.

He still has it, somewhere.

The image has faded and the cotton is so thin that it is almost see-through, but Eddie keeps it as a relic.

Another moment that will define his life forever is the day Chrissy Cunnigham, lovely Queen of Hawkins High ,sat with him and asked him for drugs. The strong kind, not just marijuana as most of the tough kids in high school did.

And he said yes.

Now that they are getting ready to fight an interdimensional monster he asks himself: why did he say yes? Why didn’t he tell her to have fun with her friends instead of searching for consolation in drugs?

He should have never said yes.

But he thought he was helping.

He thought that he could have helped her, little by little, gaining her trust and helping her see how beautiful and kind she was, inside and out.

But they didn’t have the time.

When he turned toward her with the little plastic bag, he found himself deep in a shitty horror movie with a fucking monster ready to kill every stupid teenager in Hawkins.

So he did the first thing he learned when he was a kid.

He ran away.

Like he had run away from his father when he used to come home drunk and tried to beat him.

Like he had run from the bullies that were trying to cut his hair.

Like he had run from the police when he was dealing a few miles away from the trailer park.

Eddie has run all his life. He is a pro at running. Could win a fucking medal if he wanted to.

But tonight is different.

Tonight they are at war.

And what is worse, is that he has a kid to take care of.

The look that he has shared with Harrington has said everything there was to say.

The knight is going to slay the dragon and he is going to keep the kid safe, and he fucking will.

The adrenaline of the concert he has played on the roof of the trailer is fading away fast, those monstrous creatures are trying to get into the trailer and Eddie can’t allow that.

If they get inside they could hurt Dustin, and even get into their dimension.

No fucking way.

So Eddie does what he knows best: he runs.

The only difference is that this time he is running toward the peril instead of away from it.

Fuck it.

If the ex Keg King was able to fight a fucking monster with a nailed bat and nothing more, he could do the same, right?

He is a man. His role in society is to protect the people he cares for!

He takes the bike and the demobats follow him. He looks around him, he will never make it to the woods as he was thinking.

He leaves the bike and takes the nailed shield.

He just has to hold the line. Someone will come to help him. That is what happens in all his books.

Straider will appear from nowhere and will save him.

The demobats shriek and he yells at them.

He closes his eyes.

Now that he is alone, surrounded by demobats, he doesn’t feel so brave anymore.

He thinks of the old faded t-shirt. He should have put it on for good luck. 

He would like to be buried with that on. 

No stupid suit for him.

He falls.

Everything hurts.

Someone is screaming his name when the earthquake starts and the bats fall to the ground. Dustin is holding him tight.

“I didn’t run.” he says, tasting blood in his mouth.

“No, no. Look at me! Look at me!” Dustin screams, and then someone else is kneeling at his side.

“We have to bring him back. Now.”

“But…!”

“Robin, Nancy, help Dustin. I think his ankle might be broken.” 

Someone is lifting him, and Eddie whimpers when they move him.

“Hey, if you are still complaining, it is a good sign.” Steve says, sounding cheerful.

“Harrington?” he asks, confused.

His vision is blurry, but someone is carrying him in a fireman’s carry and is running through the debris of the earthquake. 

What happened?

When did it happen?

What the fuck is going on?

They are not going back to the trailer, they are going down a crack in the ground.

“Are you sure, Steve?”

“Do you have a better idea, Rob?”

It seems they are out of ideas because Robin and Nancy keep going down a few feet away from them.

“You get to the other side with Dustin, then you’ll help me with Eddie.”

“Slow down, big boy.” Eddie complains.

“You will rest when we get to the other side. Just hold on.”

“You better pray I don't get up this time around or I’ll ruin your reputation. The golden boy brought me to the other side. How does it sound as a title?” he tries to joke.

“Better than being killed by a maleficent creature with psychic powers, honestly. But I’d prefer something like ‘brought me to the dark side’, it sounds more badass, doesn’t it?” Steve replies and Eddie laughs. Everything hurts, but he laughs.

They are still walking down the crack when Steve groans “I asked you not to do anything stupid.”

He did.

But for once Eddie wanted to be the brave one.

“Are you angry with me?”

“Don’t die on me and I might forgive you.”

Steve.

Brave Steve.

The expendable one.

Still, the one that is bleeding to death is Eddie.

“I didn’t run.”

“I know. But a friend of mine told me that there is no shame in running.”

“Wise man. You should introduce us one day.”

“I will. Now hold on tight. I’m going to push you through the crack and I don’t think it is going to be fun.”

Spoilsports, Eddie thinks, and the burning pain is the last thing that he feels.

***

When he opens his eyes he is in a hospital, his right arm is handcuffed to the bed and there are two figures asleep on some cheap plastic chair.

One is Steve, his hair messier than ever, the other is Wayne, who has a duffle bag at his feet with a faded t-shirt half out.

Eddie will quickly find out that they do not have a home anymore, and all their belongings are in that duffle bag. 

He will learn that he is still the first suspect in the murder of Chrissy Cunnigham.

He will remain handcuffed in the hospital for weeks, but when he will finally leave, hand in hand with Steve fucking Harrington, he will wear a faded t-shirt.

Almost see-through.

[thethistlegirl]

I couldn't NOT do Jack for this song, it fit him too well...

@nade2308

[faofinn]

No.5 "You better pray I don't get up this time around."

@whumptober-archive

Debris | Pinned Down | "It's broken."

When Harrison had met Tai, he’d certainly not expected to grow so fond of him so quickly. But it had just felt… right. They’d somehow got good chemistry, hitting it off immediately after a slightly rocky start. Even though Harrison was busy with university, he still found time to see the Irishman, and they’d fallen into bed on more than one occasion. 

They’d decided to change things up a bit and go for a hike rather than their usual bars, and it was nice, the change of pace. It was a short enough drive out of the city, up into the hills, and they enjoyed the warm sun on their faces and good conversation as they walked. 

They’d stopped to eat lunch, taking in the views over the city, and when Tai had leaned in for a kiss, Harrison hadn’t pushed him away. It was nice, the casual domesticity of it all. It felt like the most natural thing in the world to kiss him. 

As they headed back down the hills, they had to pay attention a bit more as to where they were putting their feet, loose stones and dust easy to lose their footing on. Hars had already done it once, his knee giving out on him, but Tai had caught him with a breathless laugh. They were virtually back at the car when Tai stumbled, twisting his ankle as he went. 

He definitely heard a crunch, and the pain was immediate, red hot agony. He just about managed to keep himself upright, but couldn’t take any weight through that foot, gripping onto Harrison like his life depended on it, knuckles white. 

"Hey, hey, easy." Harrison was quick to take his weight, wrapping a strong arm around him. "I've got you."

“Fuck.” He whimpered. 

"What's wrong?"

“My ankle.” Tai groaned. He tentatively stretched it out towards the ground and recoiled almost immediately. “Nope.”

"Careful!" He couldn't hide his worry. "Let's sit, let me have a look."

“I felt something go.”

"I heard it." Harrison admitted. 

“You’re gonna have to drive.” He whined. 

"That's the least of my worries."

“Hurts.” He panted, feeling woozy. “Where are we sitting?”

"Just down, you look like you're gonna pass out." He said softly.

Tai nodded, and sat with Harrison’s help on the dirt. “Fuck.” 

"I've got you, you're gonna be okay." He soothed, rubbing Tai's back. 

“How bad does it look? It felt bad.”

Harrison pulled a face. "I've seen worse. But it's broken, there's no doubt."

“I was hoping you weren’t gonna say that.”

"So was I."

“I’m not gonna be able to stand.”

"I can carry you?"

Tai scoffed. “Really?”

"Hey, don’t be so mean."

“I don’t want you to hurt yourself too.”

"I'll be fine."

“Mm.” He mumbled. “Hurts like fuck.”

"If we get back to my car, I've got stuff in the boot."

He nodded. “Yeah, okay.”

"Or I can go get it, but I'll have to leave you alone for ten minutes." He absently pressed a kiss to his hair. "Hey, if I do that, you'll be high as a kite for the rest of the hike. You might enjoy it."

“I just want to go home.”

"I know, love." He rubbed Tai's arm, the affection instinctive. "I know."

“Can we go back to the car?”

"Of course. Want me to carry you?"

He nodded sheepishly. “I’m not gonna be able to stand.”

"You know, there are easier ways to get close to me." He teased, standing up.

“You don’t like the damsel in distress routine?” Tai joked weakly.   

He helped him to his feet, balancing himself s moment before looping an arm under his knees. He moved as gentle as he could, aware each movement would be agony for Tai. Concern covered his face as he frowned at him, eyes wide with worry.

"Is that okay?"

Tai had definitely paled, everything spinning a little, but he nodded. “Yeah.” He replied tensely. 

"Just breathe, you're okay. I've got you." He murmured. "You're okay."

“Didn’t know you were this strong.”

"Am I more attractive now?" He teased.

“Maybe.”

"This all a ploy to get closer to me?"

“Would be funny if it was.”

He grinned down at Tai. "Y’know, there's easier ways."

“Probably less painful too.”

"Oh, most definitely."

“Was a nice hike, though.”

"I certainly enjoyed the view."

“Yeah?”

He hummed. "And the scenery was nice, too."

“Oh, shut up.”

"I'm serious."

“So am I.”

"I'll be quiet then."

Tai leaned into him with a soft hum. “You can keep talking.”

"Ah, no. You've made your bed, you can lie in it, suffer in silence and all that." He'd barely made it a few steps before his act broke and he laughed. 

“See, you can’t resist me.”

He hummed. "Yeah, something like that."

He was quiet for a minute. “You think it’s definitely broken?”

"I'd put money on it." He said softly. 

“Ugh.”

"Hey, you'll have to come stay with me." He murmured. "I can look after you then, make sure you have everything you need."

“Oh, so now you’re trying to get me to move in?”

There was a hint of blush on his cheeks. "Maybe."

“Not complaining.”

"You're not?"

“You just promised to wait on me hand and foot.”

"Like a king." He teased. 

“Mm, perfect.”

"Only fair."