#(just wondering hheh)

[coldshare]

A word To build a scenario around... Steam

thank you for the prompt, anon! ♡ here it is (with some gratuitous references to contagion... you know me)

-

a character who's the type to prioritize self care over everything... who lives luxuriously, the type to resort to everything from expensive spa days to unwind, the type who's familiar with every natural remedy in the book, because really, even the slightest ailment is a perfect excuse to take it easy and even pamper themselves a little bit

the same character who feels themselves coming down with a terrible, incredibly contagious cold. but for whatever reason - maybe their boss urges them to come in (it's just a small cold, after all, and so much work still needs to get done), or maybe because they're just so confident in their home remedies to do the trick - they head to work anyways.

their desk becomes a mini pharmacy for the day - soft lotion tissues, three different tins of tea specifically meant to relieve cold and flu symptoms, herbal cough drops, a few cooling salves for their red, irritated nose, hot packs for their sinuses, a humidifier for the congestion. after all... if they're going to have to work with this cold, why not make their time here as comfortable as possible?

but still, despite every remedy, their cold turns out to be annoyingly persistent - they're just so congested they can hardly breathe through their nose, plagued with a tickle (not severe enough to catalyze a sneeze, in most cases, but present enough to be very distracting) in their nose which won't leave them alone no matter what. even worse, every sneeze is irritatingly unproductive; it does nothing to relieve the tickle - in fact, it almost seems to make it worse...

they make it to halfway through the afternoon where they decide they can't stand it anymore - they're not feeling too terrible, but this is certainly annoying, and that's enough of a reason for them to put an end to it once and for good. breathing in steam can be therapeutic, and even better, it's supposed to relieve congestion, right?

after a few moments consideration, they swipe the small vial of lavender essential oil off their desk. they've never been fond of this particular vial compared to the other essential oils they own - it always leaves them sniffly and teary eyed - but perhaps that would be a welcome side effect, just this once.

from there, they head into the break room and boil some water using the coffee machine (so what if they end up sneezing a few times, all over the coffee machine, misting the company countertops? it's not like they can control when they sneeze... with this cold, every sneeze just sneaks up on them; it's not their fault that they're not always able to cover.) they pour the boiling water out into a large bowl, drop a few drops of the lavender essential oil inside, and take a seat at one of the tables in the break room, which - aside from them - is thankfully empty.

the first breath of hot, fragrant steam does wonders for their congestion, which they can feel start to loosen for the first time, making their nose run. they haven't brought any tissues with them... perhaps that was an oversight, but the steam is just so relieving, they can't just stop now...!

the next few breaths, they can really start to smell the lavender, and... oh, the tickle in their nose sharpens with such intensity it takes them off guard.

"heh... hEhh... HIH-! hheh-Hhehh... heh... hehH..."

god, their nose tickles so badly; it's practically begging for relief. they lean their head down, taking another deep breath in through their nose.

"hehH... hehh-HEH-!" fuck, so close, just a little more... "hheh... HehhH.... hh-heh-Hehh-HEHh-!! HEHH'IIHHSHIEEEW!"

it's as if that first sneeze completely opens up the floodgates, snapping them forward - only for them to inhale a huge breath of hot steam. they wipe their nose on one palm, but even the slightest pressure against their nose seems to increase the tickle tenfold. everything smells like so strongly of lavender, it's - HEHh-! making them - heh-HEHh - h-have to -

"HEHH'ISSSHHIEw! hHAH'IITSHuUH! heh... heh-hEhh-HEHh-hHEH'TCHIIIEEEW! hH... hHIh! hahh-HAh-AHH.... AHH'IIIITTSCHHUueE!"

every sneeze absolutely drenches the table beneath them. they lift their hands to halfheartedly shield the first couple of sneezes, but with the number of particles that escape through their fingertips regardless, does it really even matter? it's not like anyone else is in the break room, after all. they turn their head aside to keep from spraying the table (even if all that accomplishes is spread their cold in the other direction.)

besides... don't they deserve to sneeze after having not been able to sneeze all morning, aside from the few terribly unsatisfying sneezes they'd had to put up with? isn't it only right that they get relief from this annoying cold as soon as possible? they need to get all the viruses out of their system to get rid of this cold... each messy, spraying sneeze sets them closer on the path to recovery. the tickle in their nose is really just there to help them sneeze out their cold as soon as possible, so why not coax it even further, make this process a little faster? really, they're doing their body a favor as they breathe in more steam, as they give in to the tickle in their nose, as they sneeze and sneeze and sneeze...

(maybe that's what they think, but they've left the air so utterly saturated with their cold viruses that it's no wonder that half the office comes down with the same miserable, messy cold in the weeks following, leading to more than a few dirty looks... after all, they brought their cold to work, and they hadn't exactly been subtle about it)

[softcryz]

hi zoc merry christmas please have wawa with a big hammer

HUAH?? HUH?? HHEH??

MERRY CHRISTMAS HAPPY BIRTHDAY YOU CANNOT JUST. DROP HER AT ME WHAT THE HELLLL

Thank you so so much for this wonderful contribution to the Wawa hoard. I love her big red rubber hammer

[glitterrosesnzz]

Cherry Blossoms

finally managed to write a Wanderer fic. His name is Sakura in this, but I still wrote it as “Wanderer” in the prose cause it just felt natural.

Word Count: 1.1k

~

Aether hummed in contentment as he walked down one of the many cherry tree lined streets, taking a moment to appreciate the way the sunlight filtered through the branches, as well as the petals slowly dancing their way to the ground. It was beautifully silent- a thing probably aided by the fact that Paimon had run off with Xiangling, who was currently visiting Inazuma, with the promise of some good food.

But still, even as he stood there, admiring the scenery, he couldn’t help but believe it to be too quiet. Carefully, he looked over his shoulder at where the Wanderer was walking a few paces behind him.

He knew that the Wanderer didn’t like needless chatter, but something about how quiet he’d been since they’d gotten here seemed a little bit suspicious.

Aether slowed down his pace, moving back to walk in time with the Wanderer. As he did so, he could see the Wanderer’s shoulders stiffen, as he tilted his hat down to make sure that Aether couldn’t see his face. Once they were walking side by side, Aether slowly reached over, poking the Wanderer in the side, receiving a startled huff in response as the Wanderer took a step away.

“Oh, come on, Sakura.” Aether said, a certain lilt to his voice that made the Wanderer noticeably stumble. Somehow, he still stumbled, and had a tendency to run away, whenever Aether called him by the name he’d picked with that tone of voice- but thus far he’d made no active protest against it, so Aether had kept it up. “You can’t spend this whole time with your head down- don’t you want to take in the beautiful scenery? I named you after it for a reason, after all.”

That comment made the Wanderer’s breath hitch-

Before suddenly the puppet stopped breathing entirely.

Aether frowned as he stopped walking, the Wanderer also freezing in place, as Aether leaned down a little, tilting his head to the side, trying to see Wanderer’s expression, wondering if maybe he had pushed the other a bit too far. He knew that the other didn’t really need to breathe, but the fact he had stopped doing so was still concerning.

“...Are you okay?” He asked, as the Wanderer lifted shaky hands to somehow tilt his hat even further down, completely blocking Aether’s view of his expression. Aether let out a little sigh at the action, it wasn’t the first time he’d seen the Wanderer do such a thing. “Oh, c’mon now, don’t do that…”

Still no response. He still wasn’t breathing either.

Aether moved to stand in front of the Wanderer instead of beside him, the Wanderer showed no response to this action. Aether stared for a few moments, in contemplation.

Then he reached out, grabbing hold of the edge of the Wanderer’s hat, easily tilting it upwards in order to be able to see the Wanderer’s startled, and slightly flushed face. His eyes looked… a little watery, but not in sadness or anger. Aether, while a bit confused, gave him a bright smile.

“There you are, flower blossom.” He said, and the Wanderer instinctively drew in a breath, startled over the sudden nickname use-

And suddenly the Wanderer was stumbling back, breath hitching, his hat easily sliding off his head and staying in the Traveler’s hands as he stepped back, messing up his hair and revealing the flower crown made out of cherry blossoms resting on his head, a few more flowers appearing out of nothing and blooming as the Wanderer’s hands rose to cover his face, an expression Aether more easily recognized fluttering over the other’s face.

“HheH- hh…hH’nXtiu!” The Wanderer’s head snapped forwards with a stifled sneeze, but even stifling couldn’t stop the sudden burst of anemo that surged forth. Aether, instinctively, swapped his element to geo, planting his feet more strongly on the ground, holding up the Wanderer’s hat to cover part of his face for extra protection against the first gust of wind, before lowering it upon the realization that the anemo wasn’t even all that strong, even as the wind picked up a bit of the Wanderer entered a tiny fit of stifled sneezes. “HihH’NNxti! Hh-hEH’xNtiu! Hihh…hH’nXt!!”

Aether balanced the Wanderer’s hat on his hip as he watched the display, some cherry blossoms that had previously landed on the ground getting swept up and whipped around in the air, surrounding the Wanderer in a way that was, in fact, rather pretty. The wind started settling down a little, as the Wanderer pressed the back of his wrist against his nose, rubbing it furiously as though it would get rid of the tickle. Aether barely held back a small chuckle.

“You know,” He started, the Wanderer’s watery eyes snapping up to meet his. “That flower crown rather suits you, Sakura.”

The Wanderer’s face flushed a bright red, his attempt to glare at Aether ruined as a few more flowers appeared on his head and his breath hitched again.

“Sh-hH-... Shut uP- you…hEh… you’re not- not hh-helping-” A stray petal that had been knocked into the air by the Wanderer’s previous fit tumbled down, landing perfectly on the Wanderer’s nose, and that seemed to be the tipping point for him, as he broke into another fit, sending slightly stronger bursts of anemo forth, now unable to contain the tickle with mere stifles. “HhiH’IsHKiu! Hah-heH’inKshiu! HiIH’ksh! Hh..hIh-hH’iKShiu!!”

The sneezes sounded almost kittenish, and Aether couldn’t help the small laugh that managed to slip out. Shaking his head in amusement, he easily walked forwards through the bursts of wind, it was really nothing in comparison to some of the stronger winds that more experienced vision users could pull forth- the Wanderer’s vision was still a little weak, after all. Stepping forwards, he lightly pinched the Wanderer’s nose shut mid-hitch, the Wanderer letting out a small squeak of surprise, a sound Aether would definitely be teasing him about later. The other was still hitching, but at least the sneezing had stopped, if only for a moment.

Aether gently set the Wanderer’s hat back onto the Wanderer’s head, one of the Wanderer’s hands going up to grab hold of the edge of it, staring at Aether with confusion in his watering eyes- a few tears slipping out. Aether used his free hand to summon his teapot.

“Come on,” He said, “Lets get you out of the pollinated air before your allergies make you keel over.”

The Wanderer abruptly pulled back, freeing his nose from Aether’s grip as he practically hissed.

“I’m n-naht- not allergic- hHiH’nXTiu!! Hh’NnxTi!” He stifled two sneezes, and Aether had to reach out and steady the other’s hat to prevent it from falling off of his head with the force of it.

“You sure about that?” Aether asked, smirking down at the Wanderer, who avoided eye contact, a dark blush on his face and ears. “Lets go, I’ll even make you your favourite tea.”

“...Fine. HhH’iKshiu!” 

[baebyboyjinyoung]

Selfies from the USF concert!!

[stormgardenscurse]

h ghe hheh,,, for the drabble/headcanon event,,, you are the villain of an otome game and you either die tragic deaths or suffer fates even worse in all the routes. you reincarnate one day with this knowledge and decide to change your destiny, whilst doing so you accidentally catch the interest of ace and deuce, two of the romanceable character, an they try to win your affection instead of the main heroine's

Event is still open for submissions here!

General things:

Since I do love my otome villainess manhwas, I’ll be basing this AU in a typical royalty setting!

You’ve played this game before, so you vaguely know the plot - but things are very different because you got isekaied before the canon game’s start point.

As such, the only logical thing to do is prepare for what will come next year, right? When your fate will truly be thrown into the hands of the storyline, and you’ll have to try your best to not end up dead.

Ace

No matter what world you were in, having money is one of the essentials if you plan to escape from the academy you’ll be enrolled in 1 year from now, where the game story starts to take place. You’ll need to pay for transport after all, and loose lips can only be sealed with an adequate amount of gold coins…

As the story’s villain, you do indeed have a wealthy noble background, however just relying on that won’t get you very far if you planned to survive on your own after running away. Thus the first thing you try to do is start connections within the merchant circle, and potentially expand to commissioning mercenaries.

Perhaps you could find one that’s skilled enough to be a hired bodyguard? That’d certainly be helpful in case one of the love interests tried to attack you to protect the protagonist… (Many things are up in the air at this point, so it can’t hurt to be flexible).

You’re exiting a tavern after a meeting when you bump into Ace - literally, as he pickpockets your pouch and walks away. If it wasn’t for the important magic trinket inside of it, you might not even have reached for said pouch to check if it was there and connected the dots, breaking into a chase after the thief.

You didn’t recognise Ace as himself at first (you didn’t manage to finish playing his route, though your friends loved to gush over him), and was surprised to find that he was the one that stole your belongings.

Suffice to say, by surprising Ace (calling out his brother’s name), you managed to tackle him to the ground and demand your items back.

Seeing as he didn’t just teleport away (a signature move he used to save the player once), you deduced that Ace hasn’t had his magic training yet, and seemed to be living as a thief before being found by his master? He was dressed well though, so you believed there might be more to the story than meets the eye.

What would your friends have called this… ah, a secret route? Or was it a DLC? Anyways, you supposed that finding out more about Ace wouldn’t hurt your survival prospects, thus you threw your pouch of coins back to him after you retrieved the most important item inside.

You’d frequent the city after all. If Ace is as curious as you remembered, you’d be meeting him many more times after this even without a contract or deal.

He’s surely wondering how you knew his brother of all people, and will only grow curiouser when his brother tells him he’s never heard of anyone like you~

Deuce

Honestly speaking, Deuce was one of your comfort faves when you played the game. So when you see sign-ups open for a knight apprenticeship that you recognised the name of, you’re quick to write your name onto the form with bated breath.

All you knew is that Deuce trained here under the same master. You weren’t sure if he was still here though since the storyline is only a year away - he might’ve graduated already and was preparing for the academy’s entrance exam.

You later learn that Deuce is your senior as you spot him during a training drill, and he surprises you by flashing you a friendly smile. When you’re practicing alone (modern muscles were not meant to train like this), he walks over and you think you can hear your heartbeat in your ears, only for the anticipation to shatter as he offers you a drink. 

Right. He doesn’t know who you are, and you’re in the villain’s body of all people - Deuce probably just wanted to say hi because he’s just that nice, not because you caught his eye or anything.

(You actually did catch his attention; you’re a member of higher nobility, but despite how you could easily afford private mentors you chose to train here instead. Deuce gives you the benefit of the doubt and assumes you’re hard-working, since why else would you be running drills even after your session ended?)

He sees a bit of himself in you (the desire to improve quickly), but advises you to not push yourself too hard since he’s hurt himself before by overworking his body. Yet when Deuce invites you to have lunch together with his friends something irks you at the back of your mind. Despite your better judgment, you let it slip from your mouth:

You ask him if he’s here out of pity, since it’s evident that your peers have been avoiding you in light of your gaps in status. It comes out coldly and causes surprise to flicker through Deuce’s eyes, but he’s quick to smile and shake his head instead.

That might’ve been the case a moment ago, but your words are catching his interest; you seem to have something else lingering on your mind despite standing before him, and Deuce somehow feels inclined to offer his company to you.

Strange, it’s as if he was talking to someone he met a long time ago… Must be his imagination, right?

Additional thoughts/comments are at the end of my tags, if you're curious!

Commissions are also open for September if anyone's interested in AU type things like these 👉👈 (might take 2-3 weeks to write though, depending on wordcount and how busy I am!)

[straightupsickfics]

Would you ever write another soft kink natsharon fic? I can’t stop reading your fic about allergic Sharon and shy Nat but either of them being sick or allergic in this scenario would be adorable.

ahhhhh pls, i really love them so 🥺 i had a tiny snippet of this written forever ago so ty for inspiring me to finish and post it! i hope it's what you are looking for, anon!

****

Natasha wakes up to her mattress shaking. She keeps her eyes closed, hoping whatever it is will stop quickly enough that she can go back to sleep. She got in late last night and had come home to find Sharon sound asleep in her bed. She’d been momentarily torn between waking her up to kiss her hello and letting her sleep, but in the end she’d settled for the latter, kissing her forehead as lightly as she could before slipping into bed beside her.

Now, she feels Sharon pressed against her warm and close, her head tucked in next to her shoulder. The shaking seems to have stopped, and Nat wonders idly what time it is. It feels early; there’s no sunlight in the room yet, and since they have nothing planned today, she thinks that maybe she and Sharon can have the kind of lazy Sunday they never seem to have time for.

For now though, Nat’s determined to go back to sleep, and she just might have, had she not felt the bed dip down again, felt the muffled but audible “ah,” hot and soft against her neck. She knows that the stuffy little sigh can only mean one thing, and all at once the shaking of the bed makes sense in a way that leaves her immediately wide awake, warmth rushing through her.

It’s early October, which probably means…

Sharon is prone to getting sick throughout the year, but the fall is usually the worst of it. Between the increasingly chilly, damp weather and people all around them catching whatever bug was going around, she never seemed to catch a break once September hit. Nat, somewhat selfishly, loved taking care of her girlfriend when she was feeling particularly sniffly and sleepy, always making a point to keep Sharon as close as possible whenever she could.

Natasha tries to keep her breathing even and her eyes closed. Sharon had been making such an effort not to wake her up, she feels almost guilty. The problem is that she can also feel Sharon’s breath coming in sharp, desperate gasps against her. That familiar coil of warmth and arousal rushes through her again as Sharon does her best to stifle a fit of sneezes against her pillow.

HH-hndKkgxt! ihh...hNGxxttsh! huhNGxxt!”

They’re nearly silent, aside from another stuffy, relieved little sigh that follows the fit. Nat knows that stifling them like this is probably only tickling Sharon’s poor nose more, creating a vicious cycle of stifling, tickling, and helpless sneezing. She hates that Sharon’s putting herself through that just to keep from waking her up, and besides, knowing the anticipatory, dazed look that’s sure to be on Sharon’s face right now as she tries to fight them is almost more than she can handle.

Nat opens her eyes and turns slowly, stretching and wrapping her arms around Sharon’s waist.

“Mmh, morning,” she says with a small smile.

“Oh, snf! Morning,” Sharon says, bringing her lips to Natasha’s. “Welcome back. I hope I didn’t wake you up. I really tried not to, but this…” she gestures vaguely towards her face. “I think I have a cold,” she says, and rolls her eyes when Nat just laughs lightly and kisses the tip of her nose.

“You didn’t wake me up, don’t worry,” she assures her.

“You should’ve woken me up when you got in la-hheh! Last... eh-HeshIEW! Night! I tried to wait up,” Sharon says, rubbing at her nose absently.

Nat pulls her in closer. “Thought about it,” she admits. “But then we’d both be exhausted, and you looked so peaceful sleeping…” She trails off. She’s never been excessively sappy, but she’d been gone for a week and she’d missed Sharon. And now here she is, all red-nosed and snuffly beside her with her cold, and Nat doesn’t know how she’d managed to wake up to this but she’s hardly complaining about it.

“I mbight’ve looked peaceful then, but this is.. Hh! ehh-Hetshh! IieeSHHIew! Something else ed’tirely,” Sharon says, sniffling.

Nat looks away, sure the warmth flooding her cheeks is obvious at this point. “Yeah, you don’t sound so good,” she agrees, pushing a rogue hair back from Sharon’s face and pressing a kiss to her forehead. It’s warm but not fever-hot, which is a good sign.

She feels Sharon shift against her, trying her best to escape the cocoon of Natasha’s arms before another sneeze escapes her. Entwined together like they are, Nat can feel the frantic rise and fall of Sharon’s breath against her, can almost feel the itch building despite Sharon’s best efforts to suppress it, and anticipation and arousal spike in her chest.

“Just relax, I’ve got you,” Nat says.

“Na-hhat! Heh-hdDsccHHehww!” Sharon doesn’t get very far in her argument before the sneeze overtakes her, and with Sharon pressed so close, Natasha feels the force of it shudder through her and gives a small, involuntary shiver of her own.

“Bless you!” She says, wondering if Sharon picks up on the distinctly nervous edge to her voice. She knows that Natasha … appreciates when she’s like this, but Nat has always been a little shy about it, never wanting to push or make Sharon feel worse if she was sick or her allergies were bothering her.

“Can you p-pass me a “HhHEhsschhhew! Snf! A tiss-ehhshhiew!” Sharon can hardly get the words out, but Natasha holds out a handful of tissues to her when her breath catches again and she sneezes forcefully into her elbow. “Hehhngsh!” She stifles it as best she can as Nat rubs her shoulder.

“How long have you been feeling this bad?” Concern creeps into Nat’s voice with the question. She’s used to Sharon’s allergies making her sneeze like this, but her colds are usually quieter, more in her chest and bothering her throat than leaving her congested the way she is now.

“Ehh-HISH! Umb, yesterday? I don’t feel too snf! Bad it’s just a lot of this,” Sharon says, gesturing at her face again and raising an eyebrow. “A welcome home present,” she teases, her nose is pink and twitching like a rabbit’s and making Nat’s cheeks flush all over again.

“I don’t… you don’t…” Natasha is uncharacteristically flustered, which makes Sharon laugh and lean in closer. She brings her lips to Nat’s collarbone, and Nat can’t help but sigh when she feels the soft, damp press of Sharon’s nose against her skin.

“Shh, you know I don’t mind,” Sharon murmurs. “I missed you,” she adds.

Natasha nods, gives Sharon one more quick, searching look, before kissing her again, relaxing into her. “Yeah,” she agrees. “I missed you, too.” Then, she lets herself capture Sharon’s lips with her own, and they don’t do much talking after that.

[absolutebearings]

vinland saga DND modern au of destiny

to ease the pain over our dead favs, @mifhortunach and i have spent the last few days devising an au of most piquant delight. 

The Setup

canute, age 22 is dm. he’s a desperately lonely corporate heir attempting to deal with some considerable social anxiety. one of his fav coping mechanisms right now is critical role, so in the interest of Getting Out There, he found a local dnd forum for meetups

(in the meantime his manservant ragnar helps him plan all his campaigns and is So Proud that his canute is putting himself out there :”)

the only one to take canute’s very earnest and noobish pitch seriously was some guy with the handle LOLfinn

(that guy is askeladd, age 37)

that guy has a roommate. and that roommate has a coworker, so they already know each other. boom we got enough for a proto campaign. canute graciously invites these total strangers into his penthouse for a friday session canute’s home security involves actual bodyguards so he’s not that concerned about some dnd nerds being shifty enough to overpower professionals... just very scared of them thinking he’d said something stupid. the vagaries of Anxiety for ya

askeladd is barely domesticated, he’s bastard cat slowly and purposefully knocking over a crystal bowl and watching it shatter before making eye contact with you feral. he lives on bjorn’s 'couch', doesn't have a car, works 'freelance' and will tell no one what that means. 

askeladd enlists bjorn (age 32) first, which isn’t hard to do bc bjorn is ride or die for this man. 

and it works out too bc bjorn is the one with the actual ride -- a horrible rotten-moss green pickup that wasn’t shiny even when it was new thirty years ago. he’s very fond of it. 

he and bjorn are those kind of easy intimate people that have some kinda 'are they ..>??" energy but aren't OVERT or anything ... but u still wonder. like theyre just super chill and intimate and its always on that LINE like ....WHAT DOeS IT MEAN ARE yOU fUCKIGN

bjorn works at staples and takes MMA with thorfinn (age 22) (askeladd comes sometimes, because its funny) 

thorfinn, for the moment, refuses to indulge his weirdo associates’ curiosity with his backstory and at most he will say is that he graduated from a college and lives in an apartment.        thorfinns like hOW DID YOU PAY OFF A HOUSE WITH A JOB FROM STAPLES         bjorn, grows half his food and has a compost system: i dunno :)              thorfinn: *&*#*^$%

sometimes he will bring things to the session from this garden, like tomatoes or parsley, because ur supposed to bring things to the host!!! its Polite

thorfinn is like why cant u just bring chips like a normal person      bjorn, who also has potatoes: do u want me to make some chips? i can do that      thorfinn: -_________-

Pre Game Nonsense

thorfinn decides he wants to be a rogue right away its got all these cool skills, plus dual blades is awesome. (also That Sexy Aesthetic) 

askeladd is like hmmm thats funny because I wanted to be a rogue

ASKELADD YOU RUIN EVERYTHING RABBLE RABBLE

canute is too shy to be peacekeeper yet and bjorn thinks their arguing is too funny

eventually they convince askeladd to be a bard because they tell him one of his spells is ‘vicious mockery’ and he thought that was the funniest thing he had ever heard        askeladd: so ur telling me i can insult someone to death        canute: well --        bjorn: you know what they say: if you can, you must        askeladd:  ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)        canute: i have made a terrible mistake

bjorn is a druid, because irl he’s into herblore so itd be fun. (also this horrible party needs a healer)          askeladd: also ur name means bear heh hheh hhehhh eh        bjorn: yes you’re very funny        askeladd: u should stay in wildshape all the time then u really will be a bear         bjorn: what if i want to rp as a person and say people things :(         askeladd: why would you want to do that when you’re already a person ...?          bjorn: ...............*snort*

canute tries very hard to get them to come up with backstories and its an uphill battle       canute: so whats your story       askeladd: lol idk im just some guy       canute: what       askeladd: im some guy you found on the street lol

and he turns to bjorn for help, because bjorn is (sometimes) the reasonable one       canute: so how did you meet askeladd       bjorn: idk he's just some guy       canute: are you kidding       bjorn: some guy i met on the street lol       askeladd: *snickering*

bjorn and askeladd came up with a super inexplicable backstory that they obliquely reference but refuse to elaborate on, to the consternation of all

bjorn plays the most stereotypical hick druid ever, neutral good female wood elf, sticks in hair, very nice and wants to help (but with a Dark Secret) 

askeladd has to be obnoxiously extra. his chaotic neutral half elf bard has been a former 'orphan' (Secret Lineage) street urchin turned rogue bastard extraordinaire of the worst city in the kingdom. hes not like the master of the underworld or anything like that but u know, respectable. and then this HICK DRUID ELF SHOWS UP and is like getting mugged or bilked or maybe even about to be murdered and askeladd's character swoops in and saves the day for Mysterious Reasons (soon to be revealed)))

figuring out thorfinn’s character is harder for similar and yet wildly different reasons 

thorfinn is like im A HALF-ORC canute's like thats a weird choice for a rogue thorfinn: HES TALL AND CAN DO WHATEVER HE WANTS askeladd laughing hysterically in the background

but finally they figure it out, after much laughter, tears, yelling, and swearing of duels. thorfinn plays a true neutral half-orc rogue, unjustly banished from his clan by trickery and deceit, so he is on an eternal quest to find the clan’s lost Sacred Item and restore his honor. and he gets REAL annoyed with askeladd and bjorn antic show making detours every 5 minutes       thorfinn: i swear to god if you investigate one more time        askeladd: hmmmm........................i’d like to investigate the area       thorfinn: FLKJSDLKF lA”LL KILL yOU OLD mAN

stay tuned next time for ....

          THE CAMPAIGN

[sneezingpotatoes]

Another Cold Winter [Part 3]

The car ride over to Asahi’s house was silent, except for the quiet taps against the car windows from the cold rain drops. The sick teen was sprawled out in the back seat up against his trusted friend, barely keeping himself awake since the heater was blasting directly into his face and made him feel like he was in his own bed. Kaede bit his bottom lip, trying his hardest to keep himself from playing with the sick teens damp hair. Instead, he decided to glare out of the foggy window, watching the cold drops of rain race each other to the bottom of the window. “Well, this is it…” The nurse sighed and pulled the gear into park. “Need some help getting him settled in?” The hazel-eyed teen shook his head. 

“You’ve helped far more than we could’ve asked for, and I wouldn’t want to pull you away from the little time left of your lunch break…” His stomach churned, feeling both fear and unease at the sight of Asahi’s home. After Asahi’s parents had divorced and his mom left permanently, Kaede had never been allowed back over his house ever since. They both knew that his dad always came home around the evening, but there was always a possibility that he could come home early. The clicking of the car doors unlocking jolted Kaede out of his thoughts as he began to slowly crack his car door open. “You ready?” The sick teen grunted in response as he sluggishly sat upright, not wanting to go back into the cold rain. Kaede slid out of the car and wrapped Asahi’s arm around his shoulders as they hustled onto the porch. The nurse honked two times before she reversed and drove off back to the school. “Where’s your house key?” Kaede muttered through chattering teeth. The sick teen pointed to a pocket in his backpack and the hazel-eyed teen grabbed the key and unlocked the door. Once the door swung open, a whiff of cold air brushed over the both of them, causing the two to shiver. “Why is it so cold in here???” He asked as he quickly closed the front door, almost losing his breath from how cold it was. The sick teen sluggishly removed his shoes and then plopped onto the partially torn couch.

“My dad wants the air off while he’s at work to save money.” He brought up a hand to wipe under his swollen nostrils, watching his friend try to set up the fireplace. “You can stop looking at the fireplace. We don’t have any firewood.” Kaede froze, breathing becoming frantic with anxiety. Can’t use the heater. Can’t use the fireplace. Need to get him out of those wet clothes and under some damn blankets! Kaede looked behind his shoulder at his best friend coughing onto his palm and frowned.

“Where are your extra blankets???” The teen asked, trying to hide his anxiety. The sick teen pointed over to a door and whispered, ‘In the closet’, through another round of wet coughs. Kaede nearly dashed over to the closet and grabbed about five heavy blankets from the top shelf, nearly being engulfed in the warmth. He returned over to his sick friend and sat the blankets down onto the floor, kneeling beside the couch. “Okay, we need to get you out of those wet clothes…” Kaede looked at the front door, trying to avoid eye contact with his sick friend. Asahi didn’t budge a muscle and allowed the room to fill with a slow silence for a couple of moments as he mentally collected himself.

“Could you do it, please…?” Asahi whispered, sounding more like a sigh as his breaths were becoming heavier and in choppy segments. Kaede blushed lightly as he nodded, turning his head back over to Asahi, only to see his eyes closed with his mouth slightly perched open. The hazel-eyed teen hesitated at first, but then grabbed at the cold, damp shirt, gently sliding it off his warm body. The sick teen shivered violently from the cold air hitting his damp chest and jerked forward into his knees. “Ektshh-ksshh!! Huhh-Kgshh! Nnggh…” He released a congested sigh as he leaned back onto the couch, feeling his entire body ache from the quick fit. Kaede grabbed an edge of the damp shirt and used it to rub underneath Asahi’s streaming nostrils, trying to help alleviate some of the leakage. Asahi grimaces at the coldness and dampness of the shirt, but unwillingly allows his friend to proceed. After Kaede sets down the wet shirt, he spots a long, red gash across the middle of Asahi’s torso. Hazel eyes widen as he scans the scar-like cut, heart filling with concern each second he looks at it. Without thinking, the teen glides his hand over the gash, allowing his middle finger to guide and trace its’ way from the start of the cut to the finish.

“What happened here…?” Muttered the curious teen, still examining the scar that laid across his rib cage. Asahi shut his eyes and dug his head deep into the couch cushion, avoiding eye contact with his best friend.

“He…” Asahi’s voice trailed off into deeper sobs just by the thought of it. His tough-guy act had long gone and he knew that his fever wouldn’t allow him to hide anything anymore, so he quickly shut his mouth, deciding that silence was the better option. Kaede blinked vividly, realizing what he had unintentionally done, and he snatched his hand back, embarrassed of how he was touching Asahi’s chest.

“Forget I ever said anything… I’m sorry.” He whispered as he slid off Asahi’s socks and shimmied down his soaked jeans. The sick teen shivered with more violence, which caused the couch to vibrate continuously until Kaede quickly showered him in a storm of warm blankets. Asahi released a comfortable moan as he shifted around on the couch, feeling happy that he was finally warm. Kaede smiled at his best friend as he got up and hung the wet clothes onto one of the bar stools, feeling relieved that his friend was finally warm at least. He gave a light sniffle and a quick swipe of the index finger, trying to catch the least amount of attention as possible; His shivering was probably doing the most attention grabbing as is. He took a brief look down at his dripping clothing and released a stifled sigh. I’ll have to get cleaned up later… Asahi needs to be taken care of first. Asahi’s rattling coughs into the layers of blankets caught Kaede’s attention as the sick teen grimaces, feeling his throat becoming even more sore and raw. The hazel-eyed teen disappears into the bathroom and grabs a few items from the medicine cabinet before returning to the sick teen’s aid. “Here… Drink this…” He mutters, as he pours the medicine into the clear cap, making sure to stop pouring once the liquid reached the proper indention. Asahi hesitates for a moment, but weakly grabs the cap and scarfs it down, plugging his nose so that he wouldn’t taste the strong cherry flavor. After he successfully drank the medicine, Kaede placed the thermometer underneath the teens tongue, hoping that his fever hadn’t risen too high. He bit the tip of his tongue, eagerly waiting for the thermometer to beep. 102.5??? Holy hell! This is not good! Alright, calm down! Breathe… Kaede brought up a shaky hand to remove the thermometer and vanished into the kitchen, grabbing a warm, wet towel to place over the teen’s forehead. Once he returned, Asahi’s dreary eyes were locked onto his thin frame, watching his clothing drip along the wooden planks of his living room floor.

“Aren’t you cold in those wet clothes?” Asahi whispered in question, being concerned about his best friend. “I have some extra clothes in my room, if you want…” Kaede shook his head and gave a forced smile in return, gently placing the warm cloth on the teens clammy forehead.

“That won’t be necessary; I can change later. You’re the top priority right now, though I appreciate the kind gesture.” Asahi slowly closed his eyes and smiled weakly at both how nice Kaede was, and just being happy that Kaede was there with him and caring for him.

“Thanks, Kaede…” The sick teen whispered through his grateful grin, “… For all your help. It means a lot.” The hazel-eyed teen looks at his sick friend in surprise, being caught off guard by the words that left his mouth. “Haven’t been treated like this in years… Forgot how nice having someone care about you feels.” His last sentence trailed off into a low murmur as he drifted off into a soft slumber on the couch. Kaede stood there frozen, trying to mentally process what Asahi had just said. Why would he say something like that? Was he joking? The teen sits down onto the single seater couch in silence, watching his sick friend sleep from a distance, making sure that he was breathing and still alive.

***

“KSSHUH!! EGSSHUHH! Esshuh! Hhh…! Hheh! HEGSshuh! Kngshh-Ngtsh!!” Kaede jerked awake in his seat by the rough sneezes from the sick teen. He lifted up his glasses and sluggishly rubbed at his eyes, instantly being greeted by the unwanted cold air and a now pulsing headache taking over deep in his skull. Did I fall asleep? He wonders as he pulls back his damp sleeve and looks at his watch. 4:46pm. School had already ended by now, and he was supposed to be at home preparing dinner. Kaede sluggishly lifts himself off of the couch and waddles over to the sick teen, handing him a couple of napkins off of the dining room table. He releases a low gurgling sound into the napkins, grimacing at how rough the napkins felt against his tender nostrils. “Sorry, did I wake you…?” He whispered, barely audible through his dead voice and used tissues. The teen rubs at his temples, trying to lessen the pain of his headache and shook his head, hardly hearing what he had said, since this headache was taking total control of his full attention.

“I didn’t realize I had drifted off…” Mumbled the teen, still dreary from his nap. He picks up the cold rag from the floor, and sluggishly stands up. “Oh, your rag has gone cold…” He stated blandly, attempting to take a trembling step over to the kitchen, “I’ll fetch you a new one—” The teen gasps as he trips over his own footing, grabbing at the nearest counter in order to catch himself. His now big hazel orbs blink vividly, as he attempted to blink away the wave of dizziness he felt through panting breaths. That’s odd… The sick teen quickly sits up and peers over the couch to check on his friend, instantly grimacing when his body is overrun with a sticking pain.

“Are you alright?” The sick teen asked after a brief cough into a curled fist, “I might feel like shit, but I’ll get up in a heartbeat.” Kaede turned back to his friend and gave another forced smile, trying to reassure him so he could rest.

“That won’t be necessary! I just lost my footing on one of the floor boards.” Asahi shrugged and instantly laid right back down onto the couch, still feeling overly exhausted. The teen stifled a sigh of relief before running hot water over the rag and placing it back over the sick teens forehead. He stared at Kaede for a moment, dreary eyes scanning the damp clothes Kaede was still wearing and sighed. Before the hazel-eyed teen could leave his side, Asahi grabbed his wrist and pulled him back over to the couch.

“You’re still wearing those wet clothes.” The sick teen stated, trying his hardest to make his voice seem firm even though his voice was already shot. He was he right. He was still wearing the cold, wet clothes from earlier. He had even taken a nap in them, which probably explained his headache and episode from before.

“And you’re still running a fever. I need to check your temperature and keep your fever low.” Kaede deflected, reaching for the thermometer on the dining table. Asahi folded his arms and gave an agitated grunt.

“Okay, sure, but after you check my temperature, you’re going to cha— Mmf???” Kaede shoved the thermometer underneath his tongue before he could finish his sentence and headed for his bedroom, ignoring the undecipherable mumbling from his friend. After Kaede closed the bedroom door, he was engulfed in the awe of Asahi’s room. Well sure he’d been in Asahi’s room before the divorce, but Asahi became a completely different person after his mom left. His room was very junky, filled with empty potato chip bags, soda cans, candy wrappers… Oh god, is that dirty underwear?! He visibly cringed, trying his hardest not to dash out of that infested room screaming like a Japanese school girl. How could a person live and breathe around such filth, let alone sleep in it?! He wondered as he carefully stepped over the video game cases sprawled out across the floor. He smiled, seeing his light at the end of the tunnel. “1st Place Soccer championship 2007…” He read aloud, picking up the golden soccer ball trophy off of the floor. He remembered that game like it was yesterday. That game was the day he and Asahi first met, since Asahi had scored a legendary goal that made the entire audience stand up and cheer for him. He didn’t go to the game for Asahi of course; he didn’t even know who he was at the time! He was rooting for the enemy team since his friend was playing against Asahi. It was that day that Kaede’s parents had introduced the two boys, since Asahi’s mom and Kaede’s dad were coworkers.  He sets the trophy back onto the floor and sighs, feeling a hint of sadness hit the back of his throat. Things were so much simpler back then. The teen searches through the half-filled dresser, shuffling through all the clothing that he thinks is dirty and grabs the cleanest looking outfit he can find before getting dressed and returning back into the living room.

“102.8” The sick teen announced as he noticed his best friend re-entering the room. Kaede grabbed the thermometer to see for himself and frowned after reading the same numbers off of the utensil. “Oh, I see you’re wearing my brown lamb shirt… That’s my favorite shirt. Excellent choice, my good sir.” Asahi mumbled in an accent as if he were a butler as he readjusted the rag on his forehead. The hazel eyed teen shook his head with a grin, feeling pleased that he chose his best friends favorite shirt. I’m surprised it wasn’t dirty.

“Are you hungry?” The teen asks, realizing that neither of them had eaten anything all day. “I can prepare a quick soup for the both of us, depending on the ingredients in your possession.” Kaede can see Asahi’s eyes light up at the question as he weakly nods his head a few times. He knew exactly that Asahi was thinking: I thought you’d never ask! “Alright then. I’ll see what I can do.” Asahi watches the slender teen vanish into the kitchen before releasing a couple of wet coughs into the blankets. “Let’s see here…” Muttered the teen as he opened the refrigerator. His heart sank at the bare shelves, but he managed to scramble around the kitchen and find all of the ingredients for a Miso soup. He begins to prep the soup and turns on the stove, bringing the base to a boil. As he opens the tofu and begins to cut it, he freezes mid cut, blinking a handful of times, feeling his vision becoming blurred. He drops the knife onto the counter and rubs his eyes underneath his glasses, wondering if something had flown into his eyes. After the gentle rubbing, he resumes his prepping, ignoring his still blurred vision and squints to see the tofu. The hazel-eyed teen adds the tofu into the base and slowly begins to cut up the green onions, noting a lurking tickle tingling the depths of his sinuses. He brings up the back of his right hand and lightly sniffles into it a couple of times, feeling the tickle intensify with each inhale. “Hhh… Iihhh…” He falsely allows two airy hitches to escape him as he gradually closes his eyes, turning his head over his shoulder and away from the stove. “Ngxxt…! Hh’Ignxsh’u!! Ughhn…” He lets out a pained moan and grabs his pulsing head, feeling it pound even harder than it had been before from his attempted stifling.

“Bless…” The sick teen suspiciously muttered just audible enough to where he could hear it. “Everything okay in there…?” He didn’t even bother sitting up to look at his friend; He didn’t want to relive the painful eruption of sticking needles. The hazel-eyed teen keeps his hand held to his face, trying his hardest to cover up his blush of embarrassment, even though Asahi wasn’t there to see it.

“Apologies for the disturbance. I just inhaled too much pepper. The soup shall be ready soon.” He sighed, realizing that he was no different from his sick friend, seeing how he was making up similar excuses just like he had. After a dismissing grunt is heard from the living room, the teen scoops up the cut onions and places it into the pot so it could simmer. A couple of moments pass by as the hazel-eyed teen grabs the pot and attempts to gently tilt it over each bowl, feeling his wrists tremble from the lack of strength to hold the pot steady. He quickly sets it down, not trusting his out of character wrists and decides that half a bowl would have to be enough for each of them.

***

One empty bowl and a barely touched bowl decorate the coffee table as Kaede begins to worry about returning home and avoiding the confrontation of Asahi’s father. He took one last glance at his sick friend before standing up from his seat and grabbed the empty bowl, stacking it underneath his. “I should get going. It’s getting late and my mother will worry.” The teen stated blankly as he headed for the kitchen and sat the used dishes into the sink. Asahi’s expression slumped with sadness at the words of his friend leaving. He didn’t want him to go. He needed him. He didn’t have to do anything; His presence was just enough. “If you would like, I could warm up your towel once more before I depart?” The teen suggested as he grabbed for his satchel.

“You’re leaving already…?” The sick teen pouted into the blankets, feeling upset that he would be deprived of his friend. He fiddled around with the covers trying to make himself look busy and to hide his flushed cheeks. “Can’t you just… stay?” He regrettably pushed out. Kaede dropped his satchel strap and froze, being caught off guard by the sudden question. He internally smiled, feeling wanted. Having someone really want his presence, rather than just to use him and toss him away after. Asahi’s words felt… genuine. “Tch, nevermind…” Asahi grunted, feeling conflicted within himself, wondering how he allowed something like that escape from his very own two lips. “God, I’m such an idiot.”

“I don’t think you’re an idiot…” The hazel-eyed teen reassured him as he slowly approached the coach and kneeled beside him. Asahi flipped to his side and stared at the couch cushion, trying to avoid any eye contact with the angel kneeling beside him.

“Easy for you to say…” He mumbled into the couch cushion, “You’re such a flawless person. I’m surprised you’re not telling me what a total waste of space I am.” Kaede blinked in surprise by the sudden statement made by his best friend, feeling deeply concerned of what caused him to say such a self-shaming thing. “Why do you even hang out with me anyway?! I’m just a lowly cockroach picking up your scraps!” He erupted, having regretful sobs fill the small void between each of his sentences. Kaede pulled the sick teen’s shoulder back deep into the couch so he could look his best friend in the eyes, feeling his own eyes begin to tear up.  “Don’t even look at me! I don’t deserve to be rewarded with the sight of your beautiful face!”

“Stop this!” Yelled the teen, hazel eyes locked onto the dreary brown orbs in front of him. “What in the heavens possessed you to say such things?!” Asahi ignored the question and angrily jerked his shoulder away from his friend, burying his face deep into the couch cushion.

“Let go of me!” He sobbed, trying his hardest to keep Kaede from turning his body towards his innocent face. The hazel-eyed teen stood up and grabbed both of Asahi’s shoulder blades and pinned him down onto the couch, feeling warm tears streaming down his flushed cheeks. The two stared at each other for a few seconds, both of them trying to bite back the already streaming tears that were flowing down each of their cheeks.

“If anyone’s a waste of space, it’s me!” The teen shouted, causing Asahi’s heart to nearly stop. “You see me as a flawless human being, but in reality, I’m quite the opposite! I’m such a failure…!” Kaede broke off into heavy sobs as he slumped down onto the cold floor in front of the couch, buried into his knees, allowing all of his emotion to take over him. “I can’t do anything right…” Asahi flipped over onto his side to peer over his best friend sulking in front of him.

“Are you kidding me? How can you even say that when over half of the school strives to be like you?” The hazel-eyed teen sulked even harder into his knees after hearing those words. The sick teen sighs, clearing up his face and pulling up the blankets higher over himself.

“They’re all imbeciles...” He muttered into his knees, biting back another wave of tears lingering in his eyes. “If they knew what was truly underneath my outer shell, they would think quite the opposite.” Asahi remained silent, allowing his curiosity to wonder about in his mind. The hazel-eyed teen finally lifted up his head from his knees and stifled a sigh, deciding that it was time to tell his best friend his deepest secret. “Akari…” He whispered, feeling his eyes burn all over again from the tears forming in the corner of his eyes. “Akari Takahashi was my sisters name. I wasn’t an only child.” He took in a shaky breath as he continued. “It was just a bad day… I was 7 years old and my mom was out drinking again. Akari was nearly 3 months old and she was crying in her crib. My mom couldn’t hear her crying since she was knocked out from the alcohol. I was the only one there and…!” The teen sobbed into his palm, trying his hardest to compose himself after feeling a comforting rub on the back from his best friend.

“It’s okay,” Asahi cooed, “I’m right here. I’m listening.” Just the comforting words from his friend caused him to sob even harder into his palm. The teen wiped at his eyes after a few moments of sobbing and took in another deep, shaky breath before speaking once again.

“I was the only one who heard her cries… I was the only one who could help her.” He whimpered into his knees, “I used a stool and unlatched her crib to pick her up… But once I held her in my arms and tried to step down, I lost my footing on the stool! Without thinking I dropped her and I saved myself instead of her! So goddamn foolish!” He muttered through both gritted teeth and heavy sobs. “She hit the floor head first… And would you like to hear the worst part of it all? I didn’t tell anyone. I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I was such a coward! I placed her back into the crib as If nothing had happened, Asahi!” The teen yelled as he turned around, glaring pleading eyes into Asahi’s watering orbs, begging for some sort of forgiveness. The sick teen lunged forward and embraced the pained teen, trying his best to comfort him and take away at least some of the pain. “My mom hates me, Asahi. She makes me work hard and live the life that Akari can never have! So if people want to be like me then fine! I’m just—!” The wiggling of the door knob jolts both of them into shock as they can hear the grunting of an older man cursing to himself and mumbling something about a key.

“Crap, crap, crap! You gotta hide somewhere!” The sick teen pushed him away with an intense whisper. Kaede nodded and frantically grabbed his satchel and damp clothing, hustling into the closet, quickly closing the door and being careful not to make any noise. It seemed that right as Kaede closed the closet door, the front door creaked open with Asahi’s father standing in the doorway.

[whoareurl]

Causing Chaos in Pyjamas - 00Q (5)

Q was afraid - terrified, really.

The back of the café led onto an estate with skyrise flats. It reminded Q of where he’d grown up but he didn’t get much time for reminiscing because Bond grabbed his free hand and pulled him along behind as he broke into a run.

Q’s chest burned with the exertion and he let out a rattling cough towards the ground but, even though Bond slowed down a little and looked back with concern, Q pushed himself on. He was not going to die today; not when his agents might still be in danger. Well, Bond was always in danger somehow. Even intelligence-gathering missions ended in a shootout with him. Q was surprised he didn’t have more grey hairs, really.

Running barefoot was excruciating and Q let out a shriek of pain as he stepped on a particularly jagged rock, making a gash in the sole of his foot. 

“Bastard!”

Bond drew to a halt.

“What...are you...doing?” Q puffed, one hand on his wheezing chest as he fought for breath, grateful for the respite despite the pounding fear. Bond’s jacket was draped over his arm now since it had been falling off during their run. Bond swiftly ripped the arm off. “Bond?” Q gasped, shocked.

“Sit down, Q,” Bond said roughly and Q plonked himself down on the nearest wall. Bond immediately set about pulling out the inside lining of the sleeve.

Upon realising Bond’s plan, Q said hurriedly, “007, I really don’t think this is the time for you to play nurse.”

Bond scowled up at Q as he started tightly binding his injured foot. “Call me cautious but I’d rather you didn’t get an infection and running around with an open wound where we’re going makes that highly likely.”

Q didn’t get a chance to ask exactly where that was before Bond tied the lining tight over Q’s wound, making him wince. Bond grunted out an apology and tied another knot before pulling Q to his feet and they were off running again, this time keeping a close eye on the ground for anything else that might cause injury.

Though Q had gone through the mandatory MI6 fitness tests - which were admittedly a lot more lenient than the double-oh program requirements - he was finding it extremely difficult to keep up with Bond. His body screamed at him to just stop but his terror and maybe a little bit of adrenaline spurred him on. He’d never live it down if he admitted it to Bond but he was starting to understand the thrill of risk-taking. And not the usual type of risks Q took with hacking into classified servers. No, this - this was something else.

And Q liked it.

Of course, he’d probably like it more if he could bloody breathe.

“Oyster?” Bond asked as they came to an abrupt stop. Q could only blink at him. Bond rolled his eyes. “Oyster card. Do you have it on you?”

Q shot him a weary look. “Yes, 007. I always keep my Oyster card in my pyjama pocket in case of near-death situations.”

He meant for it to be scathing but some of the effect was lost by his breathlessness and the two kittenish sneezes which followed right after.

isstch! hng’iTschh!

“Never mind. I’ve got a spare,” Bond said, pulling him into Leicester Square station and through the ticket barriers. “And gesundheit.”

Q wiped his nose on his sleeve for the second time that day, feeling disgusted with himself and quite self-conscious of the fact that he was still in his kitten pyjamas. But at least they were in the tube station now. They could get the Northern Line down to Stockwell and then the Victoria to Vauxhall (and MI6). The idea of sitting - even on the tube - sounded like heaven to Q’s aching limbs. When Bond pulled him towards the Piccadilly Line, however, Q had to pause. Well, he supposed to Piccadilly would take them to Green Park and then they could get the Victoria to Vauxhall. Right?

(Wrong, apparently.)

They were off the train again at Piccadilly Circus and Q was being dragged along to wait for the Bakerloo Line to take them even further north and even further away from MI6.

“Is there anything else you need to do on that laptop?” Bond asked as they took a seat on an empty bench.

Q looked down at his lap where his trembling hands held said laptop against his thighs. He shivered, suddenly remembering exactly why they were running and had it really only been this morning that he’d been curled up with his cat watching Pride and Prejudice? It felt like an eternity. He felt sick.

“Q?” Bond said, one hand on Q’s back and the other taking the laptop from him. He forced Q’s head between his knees. “Deep breaths. Try not to hack up a lung.”

Q might have laughed had he not been so busy fighting the panicked nausea swirling in his stomach. Instead, he just focused on breathing without aggravating his poor chest. His nose dripped in this position and he jammed one hand under it to keep it from leaking onto the platform. He stared down at his feet, both bare and one covered in a bloody makeshift bandage. Tears welled in his eyes; he was a wreck and there were armed people after them and he was pretty sure his fever had spiked given how upset he suddenly found himself.

The rumbling of the tracks signalled the train’s arrival. Bond crouched in front of him and gently lifted Q’s head.

“Don’t break down yet, okay?” He said with a voice that was soft but firm. “Once we’re somewhere safe, you can fall apart but right now I need us both to have our wits about us.”

Bond took his hand and Q wondered how they were so steady. He supposed they had to be. Bond had to be able to shoot people at any time. Right now, however, his steady hand was an asset in a different way as a comfort to the panicked Quartermaster.

As Bond led them onto the train, Q took a final deep breath and sat down. Bond took his usual seat across from him. Q wished briefly that Bond would sit next to him so he wouldn’t have to let go of his hand but he pushed that thought aside. They needed to be able to see everything. This made more sense.

Q felt another sneeze building and pinched his nose shut, stifling it silently. And then another. And another.

“Bugger,” he muttered, sniffling thickly. At Bond’s questioning look, he said, “I left the bag at the café.”

Bond sighed. “Did you at least take some medicine?”

Thinking back, Q honestly couldn’t remember. As his energy failed him, he offered Bond a mere shrug and shut his eyes.

“Don’t fall asleep on me,” Bond warned quietly.

“Piss off,” Q muttered which made Bond chuckle.

Not two minutes later, Q was pulled to his feet again and they were making their way along the platform at Oxford Circus (why did London have so many bloody circuses?) only to be dragged...right back on the train again.

“What-” He began but Bond cut him off.

“False change,” Bond muttered, his voice sounding that way it did when he was focused. “Throw them off the scent.”

Q nodded. Of course. He’d suggested agents do exactly this when being traced. He knew exactly what a false change was so why was he acting like one of Bond’s confused flings? Too exhausted to contemplate this, he slumped down on the nearest seat and shut his eyes. After a moment, he felt Bond’s hand pressed against his cheek.

“Your fever’s gone up,” he noted. Q grunted in response. “Have you done everything you need to do with this laptop?”

“Yeah,” Q breathed. Bond still hadn’t removed his hand. It felt good.

“We’ll leave it here. It’s got to be how they tracked us.”

“M’kay.”

Bond took his seat next to Q this time and Q was frankly feeling too atrocious to question it. When his head fell sleepily onto Bond’s shoulder, he didn’t question Bond’s apparent indifference to the situation either.

What felt like seconds later they were off the train again and back on the same line in the other direction and then they were back at Oxford bloody Circus. Q was allowing himself to be dragged through the station with his legs feeling like jelly when Bond suddenly jerked to the side and Q found his arm nearly dislocated as he was dragged into a service corridor.

Bond put a finger over his lips and peered through the grate. Q watched with him as the same suited men he’d seen outside the café came to a stop. In an absolutely typical show of terrible timing, Q felt his breath start to hitch.

Despite Bond putting his finger to his lips, Q couldn’t contain the soft hitching breaths nor the growing itch in his nose. The suits were talking in the corridor and Q wished they would just move on already as he jammed a finger under his nose and pressed hard.

“Q,” Bond whispered desperately. “Not now.”

Q shot him a watery glare. He was perfectly aware that sneezing now would be nothing short of a disaster, thank you very much, 007. He supposed he could try to stifle silently like he’d done before but he didn’t think it was worth the risk. Stifling was an imperfect art; better to hold it back.

His lungs clenched at the pressure put on them, breath itching in and out. As if a building sneeze wasn’t enough, each desperate breath made him feel like a hacking cough was just on the horizon. He let out an involuntary ahh and squeezed his eyes shut, rubbing harshly at his cherry-red nose and up into the corners of his eyes.

Holding it back was proving difficult. He could barely breathe without the tickle growing stronger. He could feel his nose running and went to press his sleeve over it for the third time like some kind of heathen when Bond pressed a handkerchief over his face. He offered a look of solidarity as Q took it from him.

“They’re going. Just a little long-”

But Q couldn’t hold on anymore. He toppled forwards into Bond’s handkerchief with a near-silent stifle but his nose wasn’t finished with him. One more stifle had his head pounding and then-

hhnYISHk! eng’ISHHOOh! hhiHZZHSHEW!

“Gesun-”

“N-not...done…”

hh...hhEHYSHHOO! ngh

Bond waited a moment this time before offering his gesundheit. Q blew his nose and let out a throaty, congested sigh. When he opened his watery eyes, he caught what might be described as a smile on Bond’s face but then he blinked and it was abruptly gone.

“Come on,” Bond said, grabbing Q’s hand again and dragging them onto the Victoria Line. Q stuffed the handkerchief into his chest pocket. Somehow, he didn’t think Bond would want it back; at least not until it had been washed.

Q coughed quietly into Bond’s shoulder and again didn’t ask why he’d chosen to sit beside him for the second time when facing each other would have made more sense. His nose still itched but it had settled to a dull roar which was much more manageable.

“What’d you do w’the laptop?” He mumbled and the question earned Bond’s hand on his burning forehead.

“I told you. I left it on the last train,” Bond said. “It’s on its way to Wembley.”

Q nodded. “Good thinking, 007. Maybe you don’t need me after all.”

He meant for it to sound light-hearted but, with his throat torn up from coughing, it came out more pitiful. Bond didn’t say anything but the way his arm wound round Q’s body and pulled him close said enough. On a better day, Q might have pulled back, might have snarked and grumbled and told Bond exactly where he could shove his pity - but he didn’t. Truth be told, Q craved this comfort right now and he wasn’t stupid enough to refuse it.

His nose was running again. Q ignored it.

“We’re getting off in just a second, Q,” Bond whispered against Q’s hair.

Q shifted, confused. “Vauxhall already?”

“We’re not going to HQ, yet,” Bond said, making Q sit up and give himself an awful headrush. He took his glasses off and rubbed his temples. “I...I’ve got a bad feeling.”

Q frowned. He’d known Bond long enough to know how good his instincts were. After short scrutiny of his face, he nodded.

Bond led him off the train at the next station and onto the District Line where they travelled to-

“Temple,” Q noted obviously as he stepped onto the platform, feeling the cold of the concrete platform numbing his toes. When they finally got back to HQ, he planned to wear at least four pairs of socks for the rest of the day.

Temple tube station - where Bond had chased after Silva following his escape. Q remembered it well.

Put your back into it.

Why don’t you come down here and put your back into it.

Q smiled fondly at the memory. But his smile quickly became a groaning frown as Bond led him into the service corridor and revealed what he’d just remembered came next - stairs. A lot of stairs.

With Bond right behind him, Q started up the stairs on wobbling legs. He just needed to sit down. Just needed to sit down. Please just let me sit down.

Climbing the ladders was painful on his feet, especially the injured one, but finally, wheezing and sweaty and with a dizzyingly high fever, Q finally let Bond gently push him up the last few steps and into the underground base they’d used following the explosion at Vauxhall Cross.

Finally, Q’s legs gave out on him and he sat down heavily against the nearest wall, instinctively curling into himself against the bitter chill of the place.

Just five minutes, he thought and shut his eyes. Just five minutes.

[surfacolyte]

Vault Dweller’s Audio log 1

“H-hello...is...is this thing on? I hope it is... I've only rarely used these so I'm not quite sure how these work...especially now of all times. But I have high hopes that it will. It's good to have hope in some form or fashion...”

“So...I guess this is Audio log number one... *clears her throat* My name is Valerie Wooster, and originally from the Great Britain after moving to the United States of America. We moved here before mother, may she rest in peace, died... she had wonderful auburn hair with locks more beautiful than anyone else had... *sigh* ...Now father is gone as well as her new wife. It's been so long that even if they had survived the bombs, they wouldn't be alive...what a weird thought... how could one even survive a blast like that if it hit you right where you were standing... He could have been travelling of course...but I digress. I'm not even sure of the date. Codsworth gave me, no, us, me and my sister, the date today but he said he couldn't be sure either. It's supposed to be the 20th of July 2270...Hheh...I never thought that a Mr. Handy could ”live” this long. According to him we are 210 years late for dinner. This would make me 233 years old, I presume. If there is something good to be said of the situation it is that I look bloody good for such an old woman....hhehheh...heh...”

“However, there are far more sinister things that have happened... We were brought into Vault 111 when the bombs went off. That is to say me, my sister Eliza, her husband Nathaniel and their son Shaun. We were put into individual chambers to have a medical exam. I never though I'd end up in a cryo chamber in my life but there I was... and now... Now we're in a situation where some people have taken Shaun and shot Nate... he was a fine man... Father didn't like him because he was American but when Shaun was born he...I'm not sure if he accepted him but at least looked more favourably towards him. I liked Nate, he was a very good friend to me and the perfect husband for my sister... *sigh* ...I need to help Eliza in every way I can...she seems to be all calm and collected about it...and she's taking care of me... but I know she's going through a lot. Eliza dear, if you ever hear these recordings... I might have been young when mother died and didn't understand everything but I do know that this must hurt you... your husband just died and they've taken your son...whoever they are. I'll be there for you, you'll be there for me...ok?”

“...anyway...Tomorrow we shall go to Concord, there should be people there. It is good to know that we're not alone in this world.”

“...Valerie out.”

[jeichanhaka]

And Carried Me Away: Ch. 13

Chapter 1|| Chapter 2|| Chapter 3|| Chapter 4|| Chapter 5|| Chapter 6||

Chapter 7|| Chapter 8|| Chapter 9|| Chapter 10|| Chapter 11|| Chapter 12||

Chapter 13|| Chapter 14|| Chapter 15||

Elsewhere:

"Please. Let us go." Melissa cried, covering her abdomen the best she could. She even tried fighting against the man who abducted her when he tore her arms away, his eyes glaring her stomach.

"...you're pregnant." He spoke coldly, his tone ice and his grip on the woman's wrists was biting. His nails dug into her flesh unconsciously, his focus and anger set on her abdomen. "You..."

Melissa's lips trembled, her heart thumping wildly. "Please...I'll do whatever. Just don't..."

The man merely glared at Melissa coldly, squeezing his fingers around her wrists tighter. His jaw set firm and his scowl rigid, he narrowed his eyes to slits. Not that his captive noticed. She did notice when he released his grip and stalked off a few feet, his footfalls heavy with anger.

She further heard the near unintelligibly mutters he made as he paced. Taking in a sharp, angry breath, he stopped pacing and turned toward Melissa.

"...you ain't got a boyfriend. You..." He mumbled, picking up an needle thin and sharp blade. His face livid and teeth clenched tightly he studied Melissa. "Not since...hheh." He made a strange sound, between a laugh and growl, as though figuring something out. "Is...is the father..."

"Please, please..." Melissa swallowed and repeated her plea.

The man just gave a breathy and wry laugh. Though Melissa couldn't see it, she could hear his twisted exuberance in his laugh.

"Seriously. You..." He licked his lip, putting down the blade he held.

Quantico:

Rossi closed the file he held and massaged his forehead, his curiosity about James' copycat rearing its head. Though that wasn't the only reason he was outside Garcia's computer room door. He needed more info on Linnet and the woman the man claimed was Cam's mother. He needed all he could find before heading to interview Linnet.

The senior agent knocked on the door, waiting just a few moments before opening it. "Garcia? I need you to do something, if you're not too busy..." Rossi said as he entered, his dark eyes trying to avoid glancing at the tech analyst's monitors. The last thing he could deal with was seeing information on James, especially if it linked his son to more victims.

"Sir! What is it you need?" Garcia piped after a paused, her chirpy tone forced. She seemed distressed.

"...Penelope? What's wrong? What is it?" Rossi asked before he could stop himself, his concern etched in his scrunched brow.

"I..." Garcia hesitated, covering her mouth. Her eyes wide from worry and horror. She seemed frozen, lost even, caught between keeping quiet and saying something horrible.

"Pen..." Rossi started to speak, to reassure the woman that she didn't have to say anything if it had to do with the copycat. The next moment the tech analyst interrupted, having decided on something.

"I...I was just searching through files on Melissa Joyce. To see what her mom was hiding, just in case it could lead to the unsub. I..." Garcia swallowed, and took a deep breath, her wide and caring gaze on the senior agent. "...she's...Melissa's...pregnant."

"Shit. That's..." Rossi cursed, his stomach twisting as he thought of what the unsub did to his victims, and felt sick. It was bad enough about the women being killed, but the possibility of an unborn child...

"Rossi, I..." Garcia started to speak, her voice catching. The look of horror and disgust and fear more intense than what Rossi expected. He paused, expecting the horror and concern, but not the...distress in the bubbly woman's eyes.

"What is it? Wha..." Rossi approached, wondering at the intensity of Garcia's distress. It was more than what was usual with the woman, more than any other time when a pregnant victim was a target of an unsub. It was almost...personal.

Rossi blanched, his eyes widening as an idea occurred to him. His knotted stomach knotting further, tensed by an idea that he'd never considered. "Garcia...how...how far along...is Melissa Joyce?"

"A...a little over sixteen weeks...I...sir..."

Rossi took a step back, feeling sick. His brain focused on how long it'd been since what happened in western New York. With James. It'd been around four months, give or take a few days. He shook his head, a tumult of various emotions engulfing him.

The ring of Garcia's phone cut through before either could say more.

0-Flashback: 1998-

"...igh...No, that's not..." The man mumbled, grimacing slightly. "...Alsie?"

She blinked open her eyes, shaking her head to clear it, while listening to the man's voice. Her head felt heavy, her sienna brown eyes opening to a dimly lit room. She took a deep breath. The smell of paper, like that from old books, filled her nostrils.

"Wha...where...? Ugh." She wiped her eyes and sat up, realizing only as she did so that she was on a sofa. It was a flowery one, soft and cushiony, like the one in her study at home. She realized, after a moment, that it was the one in her study. Her eyes widened and she stared at the man who'd addressed her. "Why...why are we here? Weren't we in the guest pallor? When did we get here?"

"...it's nothing to fret over." The man replied, the corners of his lips twitching. He quietly put something, a vial of some sort, in his shirt pocket. "You just had a headache, so I brought you up here and gave you some of your medicine. You've been resting awhile."

"Oh. All right." Alsie mumbled, laying her head back down on the pillow beside the sofa armrest. She took in a deep breath, before suddenly sneezing. Her heaviness of her head worsened, her sinuses feeling dammed up. "...shit. Did you spill one of granny's fragrances or potpourri or something?"

The man shook his head, carefully eyeing the 16 year old. Though there was actually only a year or so age difference between them, appearance-wise, the gap seemed to be longer. The fact that Alsie was still less than 5 feet and only recently started to develop secondary sexual characteristics intensified the apparent, visual, age difference.

Alsie massaged her sinuses and grumbled, pushing her hair from her face. Her scars free to the man's view.

"...why don't you get this fixed?" The man gestured towards the scaring, his fingers just centimeters above touching her skin. "Mrs. Schmidt has a fortune, you could easily get plastic surgery to fix it."

Alsie quickly covered her scar with her hand, forcing the man's hand away. Her sienna brown eyes glared at him even as they watered, her cheeks blanching. "...no. Never." She ghosted her fingers over her scar, her eyes directed toward the man but her thoughts elsewhere. "Never."

x

"...ver..."

Spencer listened to Alsie's mumbles as he laid her down on the bed. He had managed, after Jemma left and after a short struggle against Leigh, to inject the petite woman with the tranquilizer that her doctor had prescribed. He worried his lips with his teeth, feeling helpless and wrong for having to drug Alsie - the tranquilizer was a last resort, prescribed as a countermeasure whenever Emmie gained control and couldn't be stopped.

He hated having to use it on his sister, especially when it was his foolishness that had triggered her shift to Leigh and then again to Emmie. If he had only avoided touching Alsie's face or at least didn't let go of her hand, he could've avoided her shift to Leigh.

His eyes gazed down at his sister watching her breathe, his own chest starting to feel heavy. Looking at her now, in a medicated slumber, she seemed fragile and innocent. Her closed eyes no longer held the loathing that had frightened him into grabbing her wrists. It'd been instinctual, once he saw the glare Leigh gave Jemma, a glare filled with hatred and malice. He had immediately reacted to protect his niece, his brain sensing that the three-tear-old was in danger from Leigh.

It was only now, as he watched his sister sleep, that the full horror of the incident dawned on him. Leigh hated Jemma. Alsie's alter hated her daughter, loathed the toddler enough to be potentially violent. Spencer swallowed back the nausea bubbling in his stomach, wishing for what he'd seen to be a dream.

"...shit." Spencer covered his face, struggling not to be overwhelmed and trying to hold back the tears threatening his eyes.

Alsie loved Jemma, just hearing how his sister talked about her daughter proved that, yet Leigh detested the toddler. It was apparent that that alter couldn't be trusted around Jemma. How was he going to tell Alsie that? How was he going to be able to explain to Alsie that though he knew she loved Jemma and would be a great mom, he didn't think it wise to let Jemma stay with her? At least not alone. Not until her D.I.D was fully under control.

"...Pete..." Alsie mumbled, her eyes still closed and brain still unconscious from the tranquilizer. Spencer gazed down at her, not moving until a knock at the bedroom door drew his attention.

"Hey, I thought we were going to have lunch, and then bring Kai and Jemma to the park?" Joy asked, her brow furrowed seeing Alsie lying in bed. Her eyes widened when Spencer frowned sadly and shook his head. "What...?"

"Alsie...can't go. Not yet. Probably not today." Spencer replied, his sad glance at Alsie not missed by Joy. He sighed, the next moment becoming alarmed, his eyes widened. "Where's Jemma and Kai? Who's watching..."

"Don't worry. My husband Shawn came over a few minutes ago, he's watching them both." Joy paused, a bit curious and concerned. "Um, is Alsie okay? Did..."

"She's fine. Just...she just needs to rest." Spencer answered, not wishing to go into what had happened. Instead he mumbled about going to check on Jemma, while allowing Alsie to rest.

[woolly-galaxy]

6, 10, 14, 22, 32, 47, 75, 79, 94

6. You're drunk and lost walking down the road; who is with you?: knowing me id find a way to wonder off so far that im lost from the person im with lmao 10. What are you listening to?: just some music14. Is there someone who continuously lets you down?: no??? Not really??? Anymore????? 22. Do you believe what goes around comes around?: i mean hey man its possible!32. Are you mad at anyone?: Nope! Not at the moment 47. Honestly, what's on your mind right now?: okay so you know that post with that doge and hes just standing on his two back legs with his arms out and his face is all scrunched up and he just looks so darn happy and the caption is wait right here i want to show you something like god damn yes show me what you have id die for you!!!!!! Its on my blog if u scroll down a little bit that post makes me so happy man i teared up when i saw it just i hope that doge has a good life!75. What part of a persons body do you find most attractive?: i honestly dont know i dont really notice anything attractive from a persons body unless if its like DAMN or if i talk to them and think damn....79: What makes your heart flutter and brings a big cheesy smile to your face?: hHEh94: Name four things that you wish you had!: 1. A samoyed or just a really big dog to hug2. A new sketch book would be nice cuz i ran out of pages on my old one!3. Another banana (but not what for what your thinking)4. Weed s o c k s