#don't go where I can't follow

[n-jostcn]

the song of achilles — madeline miller

night shift — stephen king

euripedes — anne carson

circe — madeline miller

a conjuring of light — v.e. schwab

west wind — mary oliver

the song of achilles — madeline miller

the fragile threads of power — v.e. schwab

[gladedays]

Arthur was so lonely before Merlin

MERTHUR WEEK 2023 | Day 5: what does this ship mean/represent to you? + blue

[literalite]

see your face when i black out i'm never coming back

< prev | next >

transcript

luca: we’ll be back in a moment

ari: (teasingly) from what i’m hearing, it might be more than a moment

luca: my bad, we’ll be back in a millennia

ari: oh god, i'll miss you forever!

idris: bye baba! byeeeeeee!!!

luca: (laughing) behave, okay?

lilian: (clicks tongue and sighs)

ari: whats wrong?

lilian: i must have left my phone in the car

ari: expecting a call?

lilian: my contract's almost over, they're intent on squeezing every ounce of my time. i'll be right back

idris: bye-bye!

lilian: (chuckles) bye, sweet girl

[callaeidae3]

Whumptober2023 Day 16 - Flatline | "Don't go where I can't follow"

[breannasfluff]

Too Little, Too Late - P3

Whump Rating: 3/5 (first paragraphs sad, then comfort)

TW: MCD (kinda), suicide, we reach the happy ending!

When Hyrule reaches Legend, there’s only dull apathy as he looks at Four, prone on the ground. Even from here, he can see the swelling disfiguring his head. He never should have let the smith walk away.

Legend sits next to him, running his hand through the smith’s hair. He doesn’t look up when Hyrule settles next to him.

“Are you hurt?”

The vet shakes his head. “Where are the others?”

“Dead.” Maybe he shouldn’t drop the truth like that. But Hyrule is numbing to everything. Too much has happened in too short a time.

“You’re alive.”

“Yeah.”

Legend finally looks at him. “You didn’t save them.”

He squeezes his eyes shut and curls over his knees. “I know.”

“What’s the point of all this? This journey? If this was the end goal, why did the goddesses send us on this journey?” Legend’s next words are as sharp as a blade. “Why didn’t you save us?”

“I tried,” he sobs. “I tried Ledge. I promise. I just—I’m out of magic and—

“Excuses.”

“What? No, it’s the truth!” He looks up to find disgust on his predecessor's face.

“If you cared about us, you would have tried harder.”

“I did! I did, I swear, I did!”

The vet pulls a knife from his hip and slowly turns it. The blade catches the light, reflecting back red. Then he offers it to Hyrule. “If you were a true hero, you’d remove yourself from the equation.”

Hyrule stares, heart sinking. “You want me to—” to kill myself, hangs unspoken. “You’d really ask me to do that? For, for not trying hard enough?”

Legend shrugs, still holding out the knife. “Your blood carries a curse, doesn’t it? Killing yourself is the least you can do. This whole battle?” He gestures at the field and bodies of the heroes, cast aside to lie with monsters. “This is all because of you.”

Shaking his head, Hyrule scoots backward. “No. No, that’s not true. Something is wrong with you; with this situation.”

The vet snorts and finally pulls the knife back. “Figures you’d say that. I can’t have my line continue to spawn such a pathetic excuse for a hero.” He fixes Hyrule with a glare. “You are a coward, Link.”

Then he stabs the dagger into his chest.

“No! No, no, Legend!” Hyrule throws himself on his friend’s body, even as it slumps into the grass. How many times has hot blood stained his hands today?

 “Please! I’m sorry! I’m sorry, okay? You’re right, it’s all my fault. I should have told you about the curse! I should have—look, there’s a lot of things I should have done, okay? Just, please, don’t go where I can’t follow.”

Legend takes a ragged breath, face paling. He stares at Hyrule, disappointment thick. “Why didn’t you save us?”

Then his eyes roll back and he lies still.

“No, no! Legend! No! Please I can’t—I can’t live without you all! Please! Come back! Legend! Anyone! Please!”

There is no answer. Hyrule is alone.

Someone is screaming. There are hands on his shoulders and voices, but all Hyrule can hear is the screaming.

“What’s going on?”

“It’s the curse!”

“Hyrule! Snap out of it!”

“Time, what do we do?”

“Just hold him still so he doesn’t hurt himself! Wars, see what healing supplies we have!”

Hyrule tries to move, only to find hands holding his limbs in place. He struggles against them, but it’s hard to concentrate past the screaming. His throat is sore.

A blurred shape enters his line of sight. “Hang in there, Hyrule! You’re okay! You were hit by a curse, just try to breathe.”

The screaming cuts off as the traveler tries to follow the instructions. Oh. That was him screaming.

“That’s it, just breathe.”

“Here, I’ve got the potion!” Glass nudges his lips and he takes an obedient swallow. It helps settle the racing of his heart and he takes another.

“There we go. See? You’re okay.”

Hyrule blinks and the Chain shimmers into focus. Warriors and Time lean over him, surrounded by the rest of the group. Looking up shows Legend supporting his head in his lap. One hand gently pets his hair.

The vet smiles at him. “Hey Rulie, you back with us?”

Hyrule meets each of their eyes—alive and worried—and bursts into tears.

“Shh, I’ve got you.” Legend curls over him, one hand cupping his cheek and wiping away tears. “Everything is going to be okay.”

“B-but I couldn’t save you and—and—”

“That’s just the curse. None of that happened.”

Hyrule continues to sob, unable to process the vivid memories still pulsing in his head. “I’m so sorry, Ledge. I never wanted to disappoint you!”

“You didn’t.” The vet plants a soft kiss on his forehead and gives him a gentle smile. “You’ll never disappoint me. I’m proud of you, Link.”

Despite the tears that still stream down his face, Hyrule tucks the words deep in his heart.

By the time Hyrule is allowed to move around, he’s hugged all the heroes at least twice. “I thought you were dead,” he sobs into their shoulders. “I couldn’t save you!”

“Nothing is getting me down!” Wind says, but all the traveler can remember is how scared the sailor was.

When Wild offers food he turns it down. The last thing he needs is to be sick. Curse or no curse, the memories flare bright in his mind. Blood, injury, agony—gruesome detail on replay.

It’s not real, he tells himself. It was just the curse. Somehow, it doesn’t help.

“Got space for a few more?”

Hyrule looks up from where he’s staring at his blanket to find Legend with his sleeping mat and blanket. He nods and the vet sets up his bed directly next to Hyrule.

“I get the other side!” Wild joins him, dropping his bedding on Hyrule’s other side.

The traveler frowns at the motion. Wild normally sleeps by Twilight, curling up into his wolf pelt. The champion shoots him a sunny smile. In hyrule’s memory, his throat gapes. No, that’s not real.

Sky is next. “No fair! I wanted to cuddle!”

“You get a head or feet.”

Sticking out his tongue at Legend, Sky sets up by his head.

The rest of the chain join him, jostling and grumbling to set up their beds in a circle around him. Hyrule finds himself completely sandwiched on all sides.

“Move over!”

“You’re shoving me!”

“Sky, your elbow is poking me.”

“Let me hold you, then.”

Legend is pushed into his side and, while he grumbles, he doesn’t move. One hand digs under the blankets to find Hyrule’s, squeezing tight.

The traveler squeezes back, running a finger over the ring bands within reach.

On his other side, Wild chuffs and burrows into his side, trapping an arm within his. Sky, with Four now clutched to his chest, reaches up and pats Hyrule’s hair. The rest of the Chain settle, most with a hand on Hyrule somewhere.

By the time their breathing is evening into sleep, he can finally let go of some of the lingering tension. With so many close bodies it’s impossible not to feel their hearts beat, their lungs breath, and life—vibrant and rich—in all of them.

Hyrule isn’t trapped in a cursed vision. He’s here, with his family, tucked at the center like something precious to be protected.

No matter what, he will give everything he has to save his brothers. And in return, they will support Hyrule if he breaks.

He’s not alone.

[much-obliged-timothy]

Whumptober #16

Day 16 - The Old Guard - "Don't go where I can't follow"

I'm late posting this but I am once again torturing my favs, enjoy

*

The gunfire was loud, echoing around the building as they fled through the thick smoke. They clutched hands as they ran so they wouldn’t be separated, Nile leading as she was the only one confidant she remembered where an exit was.

Joe felt Nicky violently squeeze his hand as more gunfire went off, likely having been shot. Still, he held on, so he was alive. That was all they could hope for right now. 

He and Nicky had taken up the rear to take any stray or lucky shots to protect Andy. The pain was worth it if it meant keeping Andy safe now that her immortality was gone. 

Her hand was clutching Joe’s other one, a strong, steady grip. He took comfort in that. This mission had gone sideways so damn fast that it’d be a miracle if they all made it out of here.

But then, through the suffocating smoke and blazing heat, Joe felt a sudden gush of fresh, cold air. He sucked it in too fast, coughing hard. Andy yanked on his hand, dragging him out of the burning building into the night.

“The car is this way!” Nile called, the four of them still holding onto each other as she led the way. Joe was grateful for it; his eyes were burning and the tears made it hard to see clearly. 

Nile led them around the side of the building to where they’d hidden their car when they arrived. Something crashed behind them as the building’s foundation finally began to catastrophically fail. Anyone who didn’t get out in the next minute or two would never get out. 

Nile unlocked the car and jumped into the driver’s seat. Andy finally released Joe’s hand to get into the passenger seat, so Joe grabbed the back door and pulled Nicky in next to him.

Nile gunned it out of there, tires squealing loudly. They were jerked back against their seats as they tore away from the doomed building.

“That was a shitshow,” Nile said once the burning building was a fair distance away in the rearview mirror.

Joe found himself laughing, just a little first. But then the relief that they’d made it out caused his laughter to grow, and soon, Nile and Andy joined in, and their laughter filled the car.

Nicky’s cough cut through the laughter like a knife.

Joe’s whole body tensed, because he’d heard Nicky cough up blood before. But it had been long enough; he should’ve healed from any injuries. 

His eyes shot to Nicky, who had pressed a hand to his mouth and hunched over. His shoulders trembled, and he raised his free hand to try to signal he was okay.

“Nicky,” Joe said, putting his hand on Nicky’s back. 

“Fine,” Nicky gasped. He tried to straighten up, only to moan and hunch over again, clutching his stomach. 

Joe gently pulled Nicky’s hands away, his blood going cold. Blood continued to seep through Nicky’s shirt, where a bullet had torn its way through cloth and skin.

“He’s not healing,” Joe said, his voice numb. His own words penetrated his ears, and his voice grew higher-pitched, more frantic. “Andy, he’s not healing!” 

“Pull over,” Andy snapped, even as Nile was already guiding the car onto the shoulder of the road. Andy got out before it was fully parked.

She came around to the back, crawling in next to Nicky and pulling his hands away to look at the wound. She took her jacket off and handed it to Nicky, who bit his lip to hold back a whimper as he used it to put pressure on his wound.

“Did the bullet go out?” she asked.

“No,” Nicky wheezed. 

“He’s not healing,” Joe whispered. “Why isn’t he healing?”

“Joe,” Nicky said, pressing his head into Joe’s shoulder. “Joe, I’m sorry. I healed when the fight started. I’m sorry.”

Joe kissed Nicky’s hair, putting his hand on the back of Nicky’s neck to hold him close. “No, no. Don’t be sorry. We’ll fix this, Nicky. We will.” 

Nicky shook his head weakly, coughing up more blood. “I’m trying, Joe. But it’s…”

“No,” Joe practically begged, lifting Nicky’s head so he could press their foreheads together as tears gathered in his eyes. “No, Nicky. Don’t go where I can’t follow, my love. Please.” He lifted his head to look at Andy, knowing it wasn’t fair to put this pressure on her, but needing this situation to be fixed. “Help him, Andy!”

She was trying, helping Nicky hold the jacket to his wound. She smoothed Nicky’s hair back as he coughed up blood again.

“Joe,” she said, her voice breaking as she shook her head. “Oh, Nicky.”

“You have them. You will not be alone,” Nicky said, grasping at Joe’s hand. “Yusuf, my Yusuf. I am so sorry.” 

Joe just held Nicky close, kissing his head over and over, rubbing his back, trying to offer him any comfort he possibly could. Trying to make sure Nicky felt safe and loved. 

When Nicky grew heavy in his arms, he held him closer, pressing one hand to Nicky’s chest to wait for his heart to beat again, just like it always did. They sat in the car for so long that time ceased to have meaning for Joe. He blocked out the soft cries of Andy and Nile, because if he let them in, he let in reality.

And he would not do that. Nicky would not go somewhere Joe could not follow. He would not leave Joe alone.

Joe held his love in his arms and waited for the world to bring him back where he belonged.

[aquietwritingcorner]

Don't Go Where I Can't Follow

Title: Don’t Go Where I Can’t Follow Day: Whumptober 2023, Day 16 Prompt: “Would you lie with me and just forget the world?” Gurney/Flatline/ “Don’t go where I can’t follow.”  Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist Word Count: 1323  Author: aquietwritingcorner/realitybreakgirl Rating: T  Characters: Riza Hawkeye, Roy Mustang Warning: NA Summary: A few years after the Promised Day, Mustang has a chance to ask Hawkeye the same thing she asked him to promise all those years ago. “Don’t go where I can’t follow.”    Notes: Fun fact! The electrocardiogram has been around since about 1877, if my research is correct. It, of course, wasn’t as good as the ones we have today, nor was it in common use, as it was brand new at that time, but since the bulk FMA takes place in 1914-1915, and they already have advances like automail, I figured it’s not unreasonable to think that heart monitors were starting to be used in hospitals! However, CPR wasn’t invented until the 1960s, and shocking hearts through the chest wasn’t done until 1957. So those two things I am most definitely just fudging and saying that the FMA world invented them earlier than we did. AO3 || ff.net

___________________________________

Don’t Go Where I Can’t Follow

“We need help!”

Havoc’s voice boomed through the emergency room. Mustang leaned heavily on Breda as they quickly limped after Havoc, who was carrying an unconscious and injured Hawkeye. Mustang could hear Falman and Fuery coming in after them, Fuery keeping a hold of Hayate.

His eyes, though, were only on Hawkeye. She was limp, pale, with electrical burns, and from this angle he couldn’t even tell if she was breathing. His eyes didn’t leave her. They couldn’t. Not without knowing if she was going to be alright.

A doctor rushed over and Havoc’s call, calling for a gurney that was already being pushed over by an attentive nurse. Havoc carefully laid Hawkeye down on it, quickly explaining to the doctor what had happened.

“She took an electrical shock, pretty bad,” Havoc said, sweeping dripping hair out of his eyes. “That was after she was soaked.”

The doctor grimaced, even as he was examining her. “Get her back to a bay!” he snapped at his team. “Get cardiac down here, stat! Get someone to see after the rest of them.”

“I’m staying with her,” Mustang said.

The Doctor was already moving off with the gurney. “No. You’ll just be in the way, sir.”

“I’m staying with her,” Mustang growled. There was no way that he was leaving Hawkeye’s side, not after she took that hit for him.

He could still see it. The alchemist had already blown a water main, soaking them. It had been a strategic move, as, as soon as he had a chance, the man had sent a blast of electricity at Mustang. Hawkeye must have anticipated it, because she had thrown herself in front of it, taking the shock herself. Mustang would never forget her scream, and the way she had dropped to the ground, unmoving as soon as the electricity left her body. Havoc had seen his opportunity in the midst of the man’s action, and had shot the man dead, ending his alchemy. The rest of the team had taken some hits, but none as bad as she did. Havoc had scooped Hawkeye up, Breda had thrown Mustang’s arm over his shoulder, and they had all rushed to the hospital.

The doctor made a dismissive noise and promptly ignored Mustang, clearly not having time to deal with him right now. Instead, he focused all of his attention on Hawkeye. Breda and Mustang followed after the gurney, Mustang watching anxiously as the nurses and doctor began their assessment of her.

“Get me vitals on her now!”

“IV line is in.”

“Breathing is erratic.”

“Pulse is erratic.”

“She’s got burns—at least on her arms.”

“Strip her down and check elsewhere.”

“On it!”

“Where’s cardiac!”

“Here!”

Three men rushed in, pushing some sort of device that Mustang had never seen before. One man directed a nurse to cut away Hawkeye’s shirt. Another immediately started hooking wires from it up to Hawkeye’s chest.

“What is that?” Mustang demanded, as he saw a needle on the machine begin jerking around, making a squiggling mark on a strip of paper.

“New technology,” one of the men said. “It’s called an electrocardiogram. It can monitor what a patient’s heartbeat looks like.” The man grimaced as he looked at Hawkeye’s readings. “Oh, that’s not good.”

Mustang looked at the squiggles, but he couldn’t make heads or tails of it. He didn’t know what a normal one would look like, but apparently, the small, erratic squiggles that jumped around on the page were not good things.

“Heart and lungs first!” the doctor said. “Burns later.”

“Uh-oh,” the man who was watching the strip of paper said. Mustang looked at it, watching as the needle stopped moving and started drawing a single, straight line instead. “She’s flatlining!” the man yelled.

The doctor cursed, and Mustang lurched forward, only held back by Breda. “What does that mean!” demanded.

“It means that her heart stopped,” the doctor snapped out.

Mustang felt like his own heart stopped in that second. No. No! No, she couldn’t die! It was like the Promised Day all over again. She was dying in front of him and there was nothing he could do. Mustang’s breath caught in his throat.

“Bag her! Get CPR started! Cardiac, get that thing ready!”

“Already on it!”

A nurse had climbed on top of the gurney and was already doing compressions while another applied a mask with a bag on it to Riza’s face. There was a building whine in the background.

Mustang wanted to lunge forward, to grab at Hawkeye’s bedside and beg her not to leave, like he had all but done once before. He hadn’t cared then who had seen, and he didn’t care now. The only things keeping him from doing that were his ribs, and the firm grip Breda had on him.

“It’s ready!”

“Everyone stand clear!” the doctor ordered, and Breda pulled Mustang back a step. Mustang’s chance had passed.

They both watched as all of the medical staff pulled away, and the cardiologist laid two metal plates on Hawkeye’s chest. As soon as they touched her, Hawkeye jerked as if she had been shocked. He pulled them back, and looked at the one who was looking at the strip. He waited a second, then shook his head. The plates were laid down and Hawkeye jerked up again. Again, the strip stayed in a flat line. Once again, the plates were laid down and Hawkeye jerked up. This time, though, the man called for them to wait. The needle moved a bit, and then, suddenly settled into a very specific and repetitive pattern.

“Normal sinus rhythm!” he said after a moment, and everyone seemed to breathe a sigh of relief.

“Pulse is steady. Breathing is returning to normal.”

“Okay,” the doctor said. “Let’s keep an eye on that and attend to her burns.” He glanced back at Mustang and Breda. “She’s alive and stable at the moment. You two need to leave and be seen yourself.

Slowly, Mustang nodded, attempting to straighten up, but wincing as his ribs protested it. “Of course,” he said. “But keep me updated.”

The doctor made some sort of affirming response, but before Mustang could demand more, Breda was pulling him away. Another doctor was standing nearby, and Mustang let himself be let to another bay. The doctor ended up sending him for x-rays, and it was discovered that, as Mustang thought, he had broken some ribs. They were wrapped up, and he was sent back to wait with the rest of his men, who had also been seen by this point.

It seemed like hours before the doctor finally came to see them. They were all relieved to find out that Hawkeye was likely going to be fine, although they did want to keep her a few nights for observation. Mustang was allowed to go see her, and he did, with Breda and Havoc following to stand guard.

Mustang pushed open the door to Hawkeye’s room. It was quiet, with Hawkeye lying asleep on the bed. Mustang pulled up a chair and carefully sat beside her, reaching out to take her hand.

For a moment, he just held it, looking her over as he did. Finally, he let out a breath and bowed his head. He was silent, words stuck in his throat until finally one phrase escaped him, one that echoed something she had said to him only a few short years ago.

“Don’t go where I can’t follow,” he said. “Do you hear me, Riza Hawkeye? Don’t go where I can’t follow.”

She had made him promise that once to her, and now he’d make her make the same promise to him.

“Don’t go where I can’t follow. Even if it means that we give up and spend the rest of our days lying around, and forgetting about the world around us, I’ll stay next to you. So don’t go where I can’t follow.”

[avengersnewb]

Samwise Gamgee was so gay for Frodo Baggins, and the patched on wedding at the end was just for misguiding people after overload of queer subtext. In this essay I will

[aretaix]

Don't Go Where I Can't Follow

Chapter 1: A Reunion

A few years after graduating from the School of Sorcery, Lala receives a letter from an old friend requesting her aid in a dungeon-crawl. Set in an canon-divergent universe following Final Exam.

Read on SqWA

Topics: Lala/Arle, Lala & Camus, Camus & Arle, unrequited love, canon divergence, canon typical violence

There will still be some references to the Puyo Puyo continuity.

Word count: 1.6k

It all started with a letter. A letter from beyond the village, at that. Lala had never stepped foot outside of the village all of her life -- nothing besides a few odd jobs on errands to nearby villages. So a letter from outside of town, addressed to her of all people, was quite unusual. Though now she was regretting even opening the thing in the first place. Sitting in a dingy, dark pub wasn't how she'd been planning on spending her afternoon off. But... It's not like she really had plans.

Her life had devolved into a monotonous routine: help her parents at the temple, help out at the school, do errands and run deliveries here and there, and on it went.

It really had become dull without Arle to entertain everyone with tales of her adventures. ...Lala didn't realize just how long she was going to be away.

"Is Lala here?" A familiar voice came from the entrance. It wasn't the voice of the blue armor clad girl she was thinking of, but the voice of a dashing young man with dark hair and blue eyes that matched his magical earpieces. "Thank you," he thanked the barkeep and approached Lala's table, waving at her. "Lala! It's good to see you." He approached her for a hug, which Lala awkwardly returned after scrambling to her feet.

"Camus!" Lala blushed, "Wh-what are you doing here?" Camus let go of her and pat her head, causing her cheeks to redden more. "I received a letter in the mail today, can you guess who it was from?" Lala hid her dumbfounded expression, she thought Arle had only asked for her! Her letter never mentioned Camus!

"Uhh, was it your grandma?"

"Hahah! An excellent guess, but no, no, it was from our friend Arle! She's coming back after all this time, and she wants me to help her on a nearby dungeon crawl!" Camus looked like he was about to burst with excitement. Sometimes, Lala felt like she was the older between the two. He really hadn't changed even after all this time, always bombastic and wearing that stupid, silly, dreamy smile on his face. He had been their senior at the School of Sorcery, but he never had any dreams of exploring beyond his village to expand his knowledge. Somehow, he seemed perfectly happy staying behind to assist with running the school, and at this rate, he was on track to become the next headmaster.

"Oh, what a coincidence!" Lala turned around to hide her reddening face and pulled her own letter from her satchel. "She sent me one too!"

"She mentioned you in my letter, that's why I was looking for you." Lala's head turned around quick as lightning.

"She what?! She never mentioned you in my letter..." Lala frantically skimmed it again. This was so embarrassing...!

“I think she wrote mine after yours, haha, it sounded like she was worried that you wouldn't come along without...some kind of incentive?" He shrugged.

"Not sure what I have to offer you, though." Lala grinned in an effort to disguise her gritted teeth.

"Great," she said sarcastically. "Damn it Arle! And damn it Camus! How can you both be so boneheaded in two different ways?!" she thought to herself.

"Well, it'll be fun to see her! Let's both do our best, Lala!" He struck a pose that could be called...heroic if it wasn't so lame. She sighed, dreamily as she could. Though she couldn't shake the feeling that he'd just become lamer and lamer as the years went by.

"Yeah, let's give it our all," Lala said halfheartedly.

"Hey, you two!" The two mages turned around to see a familiar face. Arle grabbed Camus' hand and pulled him into a one-armed hug, who returned it gladly, and then did the same for Lala, who returned it...awkwardly.

"It's so great to see you after so long!" Arle beamed at them. Her skin had tanned from being in the sun so long, and her hair had a certain glow to it that it lacked before. She looked the same and yet, something about her almost blinded Lala.

"So, how have things been? I've really wanted to write more, but you know how I am."

"Things have been peaceful around here," Camus said. "A bit too peaceful, if you ask me. I was delighted to receive your letter the other day."

"Good!" Arle clapped her hands in delight. "I saw this dungeon was just nearby, so I knew it'd be perfect to invite you two along. And it's the best way to catch up."

"Guu!" A mysterious voice chimed in, and Lala realized that a small, furry creature with long ears and a strange jewel set into its forehead was standing attentively at Arle's feet.

"You're still hanging out with that...thing?" Lala pointed hesitantly to the yellow-furred creature.

"Huh? You mean Carby? Of course it's still with me!" Arle scratched its forehead. "I go everywhere with it. I don't think I could imagine adventuring without the little guy anymore."

"It's excellent to have a companion with you on your travels, I say," Camus exclaimed and raised a tankard. "Arle, would you like a drink as well?"

"Camus! This isn't a time to be drinking," Lala scolded before Arle could respond.

"What? It's a special occasion to see an old friend. Besides, we're old enough now." Camus nudged one of the containers against Lala's shoulder, but her nose wrinkled at the bitter smell of the alcohol.

"Haha, well, I suppose it wouldn't be any good for a temple girl to be caught drinking in the middle of the day." Lala rolled her eyes while Camus and Arle both laughed, her ears turning red from the conversation topic.

"Hahaha! Man this really brings me back, but I'll have to turn you down on the drink offer, I'm kind of getting sick of the stuff really..." Arle refrained from saying more when she felt the daggers from Lala’s glare.

"A-Anyway, let's get down to what I really wanted to ask you guys about!" From her worn bag, she pulled out a map covered in familiar and unfamiliar runes. Evidently, a ruin was unearthed near their home village and word was traveling fast! Adventurers were already flocking to it by the dozens, and Arle wanted to be among the first to get there before everything cool about it was snatched up by treasure hunters and merchants. It was unusual for her to dungeon crawl with others, Arle had always been a solo player, but it seemed that she wanted some extra muscle and support to back her up in case things got hairy.

"So? What do you guys think?" Lala and Camus looked at each other, then nodded back at Arle.

"Of course we'll help you," Lala reassured her.

"Yes, yes, anything for a friend of ours," Camus chimed in.

"Thanks, I knew I could count on you guys!" The three cheered and joined hands, and Carbuncle jumped onto the table and put his paw in with the rest.

******

The sun sunk below the treeline, tinting the sky a rich red. Together the party of three adventurers left the pub and walked to their respective homes. Arle was eager to see her mother again, so she dashed on without the other two. With Carbuncle in tow, the other two mages watched her bound off with the energy of a 6 year old girl. She found herself almost wanting to chase after her, but stopped when she realized she was with Camus. Her. Alone with Camus. She just registered the situation she was in. With her hands gripping her skirt, she looked up at him and smiled, grateful that the low light was hiding her flushed expression.

"Shall we head home?"

"Yes, let's." They walked side by side, occasionally interrupted by other villagers making their way home and by children playing in the low light, trying to make the most of the sun before it went to bed. Lala's breathing gradually steadied and she stole another glance at his face. He'd grown into such a fine young man, and her parents had always asked her if her childhood crush would ever bloom into a true romance, but...she'd never managed to work up the courage. The question could just never come up naturally, and there was always an apprehensive feeling that followed her when she thought of her love for Camus...

"She's certainly grown, hasn't she?" Camus broke the silence.

“Huh?"

"Arle," he clarified. "She's the same at her core, of course but it seems her time away from home has truly honed her into a fine sorceress."

"I suppose so... She could still stand to learn some manners," Lala harrumphed and turned her nose up, only for Camus to laugh.

"Ah, but then she wouldn't be Arle, would she?" "...You're right," Lala murmured dejectedly. The tomboy who just won the spirits' favor by sheer luck was really Arle, through and through, always going wherever the wind took her -- but something about her now really blinded Lala...metaphorically.

Somehow, the way she had grown in the few years she was away from the village made Lala want to see more of her. Unlike Camus, who had stayed in the village his whole life and was right there for Lala to have a life with, there was an urgency for her to be with Arle's side. Where had this come from?

“Ah, here I am. I'll see you tomorrow, bright and early!" Her train of thought was interrupted by Camus taking his leave and walking down the path to his home. She waved wordlessly to him with a small smile stuck on her rosy cheeks, but unlike earlier, she felt no desire to chase him down the path.

[cynicalone94]

Don't Go Where I Can't Follow

He slows as he rounds the corner, bringing his gun to bear. There’s no sign of the man that he was chasing and he inches forward slowly.

Movement to his left catches his attention and he turns just in time to catch the tackle head-on, his weapon pinned between their bodies as they slam into the ground.

A quick elbow to the face buys him a little space and then he’s rolling, holstering his weapon while he drives a hard punch into the face with his left hand.

And then he’s rolling the man to his stomach and wrenching his arms behind his back to lock the cuffs in place.

Antonio and Kevin come around the corner as he drags the man to his feet.

“Dude, Halstead.” Antonio crows. “That guy is twice your size.”

“Yeah.” he scoffs, catching his breath. “I hadn’t noticed.”

Voight and Erin come around the corner facing them next, a couple of patrol officers behind them.

Jay hands their perp off to the patrol officers, barely listening as Voight orders them to have paramedics check the guy out and then take him back to the district.

Damn, that one hurt.

“Alright.” Voight snaps, a little closer this time. “Good job on the grab, Halstead. But this one isn’t done yet. Let’s get back the district and put the rest of the pieces together.”

The team splits, heading for the cars. Erin follows him maybe a little too close but whatever, he’s fine. Yeah, getting tackled by a bus hadn’t felt good but he’s fine.

Which he reminds her of yet again when they get back in the car, causing her to roll her eyes but at least she stops staring.

Back at the station, he and the rest of the team gear down, removing their vests. The velcro on his vest catches on his hoodie as he pulls it off and his shirt rides up.

“Shit man.” Adam says, eyes locking on his chest.

“Ruze.” he chides. “My eyes are up here.”

“Shut up, man.” Adam scoffs. “You got a bruise the side of Texas forming on your chest.”

“I got tackled by a bear.” he growls. “Yeah I’m gonna be a little bruised. It’s hardly life threatening.”

“Go to Med.” Voight orders. “Get it checked out.”

“Come on, Sarge.” Jay says, turning toward him. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Let the docs be the judge of that.” Voight says, his tone leaving no room for question and Jay sighs.

“Yeah, okay.” he agrees reluctantly, dropping his vest on his desk.

“I’ll drive you.” Erin says, grabbing her keys.

An hour later, he’s sitting on an exam bed at Med enduring his brother’s poking and prodding with ill grace.

“Is this really necessary?” he asks, holding up his arm and shaking the blood pressure cuff and heart rate monitor clipped to his finger. “I got tackled, I have a few bruises. I’m fine. You should see the other guy.”

“I’m sure.” Will agrees. “But I don’t like the location of the bruising or how rapidly it’s developing so why don’t you just humor me?”

“I have been humoring you.” Jay grumbles, looking at his watch. “For the last thirty minutes.”

“If I could get you an x-ray we could sort this out.” Will says. “But all the bay with their own machines are in use.”

“Then can’t I just -”

Jay cuts off with a gasp as a sharp lance of pain stabs through his chest. The blood pressure cuff scrunches around his arm as his hand comes up to clutch his chest.

“Jay?” Will asks, reaching out for him.

He can’t breathe to answer him.

The pain is getting worse and he can’t breathe.

“Jay?” his brother repeats.

“W-”

Then everything goes black.

Will feels bad.

Jay’s probably right.

It probably isn’t anything to worry about but Will doesn’t feel safe just sending him back to the district without checking.

So he tries to convince his brother to just hang in there with him a little longer. Jay inevitably protests but cuts off midway through with a pained gasp, hand coming up to clutch his chest.

“Jay?” he asks, reaching out to put a hand on his brother’s shoulder.

Jay stares back at him, eyes wide with terror.

“Jay?” he repeats, glancing over at the monitors that are beeping erratically, his brother’s pulse racing.

“W-”

Jay’s desperate attempt at his name is the last thing he chokes out before he goes limp, eyes rolling up in his skull.

As Will dives forward to catch his brother before he falls off the bed the beeping of the monitor stops.

It isn’t the dramatic alarm of an EKG machine but somehow the silence is the loudest noise Will has ever heard.

“I need some help in here!” he screams as he lies his brother flat on the exam table, starting compressions.

Medical personnel flood the room, the rattling wheels of the crash cart sounding in time with the orders that he’s shouting.

“Come on, Jay.” he begs. “Please, little brother.”

“Clear!” Connor calls and he forces himself to pull back as the paddles are pressed against his brother’s chest.

The tones from the hastily connected EKG machine don’t change and he resumes compressions.

“Jay.” he begs. “Don’t go where I can’t follow.”

The next shock brings Jay’s heart back into rhythm.

Will falls back, trying to catch his breath as Connor takes over treatment; snapping out orders as he slides an oxygen mask over Jay’s face.

“Page the on call Cardiologist and then I need to get a CT and MRI of his chest. Start an IV and lets get some meteprolol onboard.”

As the nurses scramble to follow the instructions, Connor turns to Will.

“He came in to have some bruising to his chest checked out, right?” he asks.

“Yeah. It wasn’t supposed to be anything that would be a problem for me to treat.” he says, staring at his brother. “His vitals were stable and he seemed okay but the bruising was pretty ugly. I thought maybe he had a rib fracture.”

“And then he coded.” Connor asks.

“Mid-sentence.” Will confirms. “He must have bruised cardiac tissue.”

“That’s my guess as well.” Connor agrees. “We’ll do some testing to confirm and determine the severity. I’ll work with the Cardiologist and we’ll find a medication regiment to keep his heart beating until the bruising heals.”

“I have to… I need to..”

Connor pokes his head into the ED, calling for Maggie who quickly comes over.

“Can you take Will to the doctor’s lounge?” he asks. “Get him some coffee.”

“No.. I..” Will protests.

“I’ll take care of Jay.” Connor promises and Will swallows hard before following Maggie out of the bay.

He’s immediately accosted by Erin.

“What the hell just happened in there?” she demands.

“He-” Will stammers.

How can he put to words what had just happened? What he’d just witnessed.

“Why don’t you join us in the lounge?” Maggie says gently. “I can fill in some blanks.”

“I need to see Jay.” she demands, shaking her head.

“His heart just stopped.” Will blurts out. “It’s looking like there was bruising from the tackle and he…”

“Dr. Rhodes is taking good care of him.” Maggie cuts in. “Let’s go sit down.”

Erin can’t seem to pull her eyes away from the door but she does let Maggie guide her and Will toward the lounge.

It’s hours later before they are shown up to the Cardiac Care Unit.

Jay is buried in a veritable mountain of equipment and Erin walks up alongside the bed, resting her hand over the top of her partner’s.

“And you were pissed that I made you come in.” she scolds lightly.

Jay doesn’t respond to her, deeply sedated to give his heart a chance to heal without the added stress that comes with being awake.

“God Jay.” she breathes. “If Will hadn’t been there… Why are you so stubborn?”

“I don’t think he knows how to be any other way.” Will says, sitting on the other side of the bed. “After our mother got sick he, he couldn’t let anyone worry about him, take any of the focus off her. So he taught himself how to be fine. No matter what.”

“That sounds like this guy.” Erin says, squeezing her partner’s hand.

“He’ll be okay.” Will tells her. “It was way too close but we got lucky. He’ll be here a couple of days and then he should be good as new.”

“Or at least as good as it gets with Jay.” Erin says.

“Oh come on.” Will says. “Jay’s practically superman and you know it.”

“Yeah.” she agrees. “Should have seen the guy he took down today. Guy was 6’2” and 300 pounds. And yeah, he was breathing a little hard, not to mention the bruising, but he got him cuffed without backup. And I’m sure he said it and sounded like a cocky bastard but you should really see the the other guy.”

“That’s exactly what he said.” Will says, shaking his head.

“Well, we’d better not let him find out he was right.” Erin jokes.

Will is asleep next to his brother’s bed when a change in the rhythm of the machines wakes him up.

At first, he’s studying the machines, trying to figure out what’s changed.

“Will?”

His gaze darts away from the screens to focus on his brother’s face.

“Jay!” he exclaims. “Hey kid, how are you doing?”

“What happened?” Jay asks.

“That blow to the chest that you took bruised your heart.” Will tells his brother.

“Seriously?” Jay groans. “It was a bruise.”

“On your heart.” Will growls. “That stopped your heart. You flatlined in the exam room. Right in front of me.”

Jay pales.

“What?”

“You scared the hell out of me.” Will says. “But you’re going to be okay. They had you in an induced coma for two days and inserted pacing wires. You’re already doing a lot better.”

Jay glances down at his chest, eyes narrowing at the wires poking out of the neckline of the gown.

“Don’t touch those.” Will cautions, hand coming up to stop him almost as soon as his hands move.

“When do they go away?” Jay asks.

“Your heart is already stabilizing.” Will promises him. “We’ll be removing them in a couple days.”

“When can I go home?” Jay asks.

“Probably once the pacing wires are removed.” Will says. “As soon as we can, I promise.”

Jay doesn’t look happy with the promise but his eyelids are heavy.

“Just close your eyes, buddy.” Will soothes. “Get some sleep. We’ll get you out of here as soon as possible.”

Jay sighs but let’s his eyes slip closed, relaxing into the bedding.

“Thanks Will.” he breathes.

“Thank you.” Will corrects, even though his brother is already asleep. “For not leaving me.”

[lady-wallace]

Whumptober Day 16 - "I'll Follow You Down" (JoJo's Bizarre Adventure)

I have to write at least one angsty GioTrish fic every Whumptober, so here it is.

~~~~~~~

Prompts Used: Flatline, 'Don't go where I can't follow' Fandom: JoJo's Bizarre Adventure Character: Giorno

~~~~~~~

Read on Ao3

Read on FF.net

~~~~~~~

Trish took a taxi straight from the airport to the hospital, small carry-on bag and all. All it had taken was the sound of Mista's voice over the phone for her to get on the first flight out of Milan and head back home.

She flew through the doors to the emergency room, finding Mista sitting there, one arm in a sling, bloodstains on his coat.

"Mista!" Trish cried as she saw him.

"Trish," he stood, hurrying toward her and holding her close with his good arm. "You got here fast."

"I took the first flight out as soon as you called," she said. "Is there any news?"

Mista shook his head, and slumped back into the chair, Trish taking the one next to him. "He's still in surgery. They…they haven't updated me. I guess no news is good news but…god."

"What happened, Mista?" Trish asked, trying to keep her panic down at the moment.

Mista ran his hand over his face. He looked awful, exhausted—he didn't even have his hat on. "We've been having trouble with this rogue group of Stand users. A couple weeks ago, they hit one of our places and took out a bunch of our men. Giorno, you know how he gets, he wasn't going to stop until he had taken them down. And he didn't. He kept going and going until he tracked every one of them down and took them out. I did what I could, Trish, I did, but he would just leave in the night when I passed out from exhaustion. He just…gets so driven about this kind of thing."

"I know," Trish replied.

"If one of the other men out on patrol hadn't tipped me off, I never would have known and I—god." He pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath. Trish looped her arm through his and squeezed before he continued. "Fugo and I got there in the thick of a fight. We fought through the goons and got to Giorno and that was when all hell broke loose. Our plan was to get Giorno out of there and let Fugo go nuclear with Purple Haze, but the guy's Stand basically had a mirror effect. I tried to shoot him but the bullet got me instead. And then he was right behind me, and Giorno…Giorno shoved me out of the way and…" He swore, squeezing his eyes shut. "Bastard punched a hole right through him. Like—you could see the…you know, never mind. But it was bad. Really bad. So bad Gold Experience doesn't seem to be around right now so…"

Trish covered her mouth with a hand but before she could ask any questions, there was some kind of alarm and doctors began running down the hall. Mista and Trish were on their feet at once, following to see what was going on, fearing the worst.

A doctor stopped them before they could get to the room all the others disappeared into.

"You can't be back here."

"At least tell us what's going on!" Mista demanded. "Is it Giorno Giovanna?"

"Yes, he flatlined as soon as we got him into recovery after surgery," the doctor said seriously. "His injuries were extreme to say the least. And we are not very optimistic. I'm sorry."

"What the hell does that mean?" Mista demanded. "He can't die! Don't you know who he is?"

The sounds from inside the room became less frantic and the blaring of alarms slowed, giving Trish back just a little of her breath. The doctor looked over his shoulder.

"Let us in there," Mista snapped.

"I can't do that."

"You can and you will," Mista growled. "I'm his freaking bodyguard, and this is his fiancé."

The word caught Trish off guard more than she could have imagined. It hurt, deep down, the flavor of daisy chain promise rings and chocolate flavored kisses; of drunken confessions and soft blond hair wet with tears that glinted in the moonlight. A lie that was so false and bitter where it should not have been.

Because of moments just like this.

She barely noticed as the doctor moved aside with a baleful look and Mista ushered her in.

Giorno lay in the bed, white as the sheets, doctors fussing over him, adjusting wires, checking his vitals. Trish could hardly be comforted by the steady beeping of the heartrate monitor because Giorno certainly looked dead, another machine even breathing for him at the moment.

"Giorno," Trish breathed and left Mista's side, instantly rushing to the bed, grasping one limp hand in hers as she pressed her other to his cheek.

"Miss, you can't…"

"Work around her," Mista snapped.

But Trish was already pulling away. "No, I'm sorry, please."

She returned to Mista's side and he held her as they watched the doctors finish up before one came over to them.

"Well?" Mista asked.

"He suffered extreme internal damage, and we're going to have to put him into surgery again in a couple of days. But I will warn you, in the condition he's in now, there's no guarantee he'll survive that long. It will take a miracle for even a partial recovery."

Trish and Mista were silent as the doctor left. A couple nurses continued making Giorno comfortable before they left as well.

Mista sagged and ran a hand over his face. "We have a miracle waiting, he just…needs to make it long enough for Gold Experience to manifest again."

Trish silently left his side and pulled a couple chairs over to the side of the bed.

"He will," she said, but with little conviction. "He'll live, Mista."

The gunman's wan smile betrayed his own worries about that. Because they both knew just how bad off Giorno was. How often he threw himself into danger as if he didn't care whether he lived or died—only that a job got done.

Were they enough to bring Giorno back from the edge? Or had he finally stepped too far, with no hope of being pulled back?

"Are you okay here?" Mista asked hesitantly. "I need to call Fugo. He's still…cleaning up everything."

"Of course," Trish replied then, "Mista, you should go home and get a shower, sleep if you need to. I'll be fine here, and…I call you if anything happens."

He pressed his lips into a thin line but the sag in his body told Trish just how exhausted he was. "I'll grab a quick shower, but I can't sleep right now."

Trish nodded in understanding and squeezed Mista's hand before he left.

The gunman stopped at the door though and turned back. "Trish? Talk to him," he said sincerely. "You might be the only one who can get through to him."

Trish was silent, a lump in her throat keeping her from speaking. Alone, she reached for Giorno's limp hand, wrapping her fingers around his. She reached out with her other to stroke the lank, blond curls from his face. A face weary and worn beyond his years, dark patches under his eyes giving his face a hollow, deathly look.

"Why do you have to do this to yourself, Giorno?" she whispered, voice breaking before she swallowed it down, shaking with anger and fear and a million other emotions. "Don't you see what this is doing to everyone around you? Don't you know what it's doing to me?"

There was, of course no reply, but she continued. "Don't you remember when you promised that someday we would be together? Well, that someday never came, Giorno, and it never will if you keep doing this kind of shit." She ground her teeth together. "I love you. And I'm never going to stop loving you just because you push me away. I will always be here waiting, waiting for you to get your head out of your ass and say you love me back. Say it when you're not drunk and you're not—not dying." Her breath hitched and she ducked her head until her forehead rested on his knuckles. "Because I'm going to keep coming for you whether you like it or not, so don't…" Two tears rolled down her cheeks and wet his hand. "Don't go where I can't follow, Giorno. Just don't."

She started sobbing silently, clutching his hand. But Giorno remained silent, clinging to life, the machines breathing for him, and Trish wasn't sure how much longer she could be strong.

XXX

Trish left the room briefly to grab a coffee and it felt like all hell broke loose as she came back. The heartrate monitor started blaring the second she got into the room, alarms going off, and her heart dropped to her feet, as she rushed over to grab Giorno's hands again.

"Giorno! No, don't do this!" she demanded, pleaded, as the doctors rushed into the room and practically pulled her away.

Trish stumbled into the corner, watching as they pulled Giorno's hospital gown open, preparing the paddles to shock his heart back to beating.

"Clear!"

Trish watched in agony as Giorno's body arched off the bed briefly, but the monitor continued to blare in one steady beep.

"No pulse," one nurse called obviously.

Trish couldn't do this anymore. This wasn't happening.

"Gold Experience," she called, voice hidden in the chaos. "Requiem. If you can hear me, show yourself."

To her surprise the Stand materialized beside her, eyes trained on its user.

"Do something," Trish demanded, eyes wet.

"I am weak right now," the Stand said, speaking in an odd, flat version of Giorno's voice. "But I can save him."

"Then do it," Trish hissed. "He's dying!"

"Yes, and so am I," Requiem said simply, tiredly. "I cannot heal him alone, I will need your help but you have to understand something."

"Anything, just save him," Trish whispered hoarsely.

The Stand stared at her with its uncanny eyes. "I will have to borrow part of your soul in order to be strong enough to heal him. It will bind the two of you irrevocably—even I do not know what that will entail."

"But it will save him?" Trish asked.

The Stand nodded.

"Then do it," Trish said firmly.

Requiem disappeared and reappeared hovering over Giorno, the doctors oblivious as they worked to bring him back.

"Take his hand, Trish," the Stand commanded.

Trish didn't hesitate, she rushed to the bed, pushing through the doctors who cried out in warning, reaching out to stop her. Trish ignored them and stretched, latching onto Giorno's hand.

Energy surged through her and Giorno both, a burst of golden light that threw her backwards, the ring finger on her left hand burning.

"Miss, please stay out of the way, you—"

The constant blare of the monitor stopped and continued in normal paced beeps, the doctors regrouped, shocked as they looked Giorno over again.

"He—he's completely stable!" one of the nurses cried in surprise.

"Heartrate, sinus rhythm—all completely normal."

"What the hell?"

Trish looked down at her finger and saw a small golden band wrapped around it like a ring. Her hand shook, dizzy, but she didn't have time to think of that because Giorno suddenly gasped, choking on the tube in his throat.

XXX

Trish sat once again at Giorno's bedside, staring at his hand clasped in hers, two identical bands on their ring fingers. Trish remembered the promise ring Giorno had made her a long time ago, crafted from tiny daisies, a sweet blush on his face as he had Gold place it around her finger; a promise that someday they could have the life they wanted.

But maybe that was a foolish wish spoken by children who didn't yet understand the hardships that the life they led could bring. Who didn't realize what the weight of loss could do, when it kept coming and coming, constant reminders of fallen comrades, and only more names added to the list of victims.

But Trish had grown beyond that happy ending fantasy. She had grown up, and so had Giorno, and perhaps she should have been more clear to him that she didn't mind the blood and the dirty deeds. The danger, and the long nights. As long as she could be the one to wash the blood away, as long as he would come back to her bed when his work was done and she could hold him while he slept, there was nothing more she wanted.

But perhaps now she had tied them together closer than that. She didn't feel any different, but there was an undeniable bond to Giorno now, her own heartrate synced up to his.

A twitch of fingers before his hand finally curled around hers in turn.

"Giorno?" she asked, heartrate picking up as she looked up quickly, seeing his eyes flutter open.

"Trish," he whispered, eyes pools of earnest green. "I should have told you this a long time ago."

Trish couldn't speak as he reached up, cupping the back of her head to pull her close, pressing their lips together. Trish melted against him, twining their fingers together, the two golden bands pressing against each other.

Giorno pulled away and pressed his lips to her ear. "I love you."

[ohanahoku-ao3]

Whumptober Day 16

@whumptober Some Steve and Robin goodness for this one! <3

Teen & Up - Gen - Stranger Things

It's Never Over, and We're Stuck Here Waiting

     Steve stared out the window, gaze distant as he absentmindedly clicked a pen over and over again. It felt as though the world around him was dimming into red-tinged grey, and he could almost see the ash falling outside the window while vines crawled over the brickwork of the building across the street. Something squeaked, but the sound mutated in his mind, becoming a screech that filled the sky a million times over.

     “Breathe, Steve. Everything’s okay.” The gentle voice broke through with a touch to his shoulder, and Steve shuddered.

     He blinked out of the waking nightmare, finding himself breathing too fast and hard as his panic wound down. He followed the hand on his shoulder back to Robin, and he followed her guidance as she gestured for him to take a deep breath in and let it go.

     “There you go. You were doing it again, Steve, that’s all. It’s over, remember?” Robin said, offering him a small smile.

     I know. That’s what Steve always said in response. It’s over this time, I know. A reassurance to them both.

     “It doesn’t feel over.” Steve breathed out in a rush, breaking their routine as his thoughts all spilled out, rambling in a fashion that spoke to just how much time he spent with Robin. “It’s never felt over. I feel like we’re just waiting for the next gate to open or for Vecna to somehow be alive. It feels like there’s a demogorgan breathing down my neck when I try to sleep, and sometimes I can’t breathe, and it feels like that demobat is choking me again.” Tears were falling down his cheeks, and Robin opened her mouth to speak, but Steve didn’t let her get a word in as he continued. “Sometimes when I argue with my dad, he yells, and I’ll think I’m right back with the Russians. I can’t stand needles anymore, like I can’t even look at them, and sometimes it makes me feel like I’m broken because I was never scared of them before.

     “And I hate guns, even the ones Nancy keeps because she nearly shot me once, and sometimes I still get nightmares where she shoots me for real, and I can’t even look her in the face after it happens because it’s so awful to think that she could possibly do that, you know? Because I know Nance, and she’d never hurt me like that, so that must make me a terrible person, right? To think something like that about someone I love? Even El scares me sometimes because she has powers just like his. And that’s terrible of me, too, because El doesn’t have a bad bone in her body, but sometimes I just can’t help but think that power could control her one day instead of the other way around.

     “Then sometimes I think I’m a horrible person because Eddie died, and it should have been me, you know? He was supposed to be safe with Dustin, and we were the ones meant to fight, and yet Eddie’s gone, not us, not me. But it makes me happy that it wasn’t us, even though I know that’s selfish because I don’t think I could handle losing you.” Steve finally stopped for air, breathing hard as he was pulled into a hug from Robin, his tears coming faster as he hugged her back.

     “Steve. You’re not a terrible person for any of that.” Robin murmured. “And you’re not broken, either.” She said as Steve melted against her, exhausted.

     “I’m so tired, Robs.” He sniffled. “I don’t wanna feel like this anymore.”

     “I know. I don’t either.” Robin said, pulling away slowly. “Come on,” She said, tugging him out from behind the counter and moving to turn the lock on the door and flip the sign to ‘closed.’ “Let’s lie down and just forget about the world for a bit, okay?”

     Steve blinked at her before nodding, settling onto the floor with her and lying down by her side. He stared up at the ceiling and closed his eyes to the lights that suddenly reminded him of the mall. “Sometimes, I feel like I’m drowning in Lover’s Lake again.”

     "Sometimes, I feel like I'm back with the Russians, just waiting for what comes next with no control over it," Robin said, and Steve relaxed a little at her understanding and acceptance.

     They let the silence fall over them for a bit, and Steve reached for Robin's hand, interlocking their fingers.

     "You're not going to lose me, dingus," Robin whispered, running her thumb over the back of his knuckles as she read his mind.

     "You can't promise that," Steve whispered back, swallowing around a lump in his throat.

     "Just watch me," Robin answered, determination filling her voice and warming Steve's chest with fondness.

     He opened his eyes and turned to face her. "Just promise me you won't go where I can't follow." He said softly, squeezing her hand.

     Robin's face softened, and she nodded, smiling crookedly back at him. "I promise. We're soulmates, remember? Not even the afterlife can split us apart." She told him, returning the pressure of his grip.

     Steve finally smiled, closing his eyes. "Love you, Robs."

     He didn't have to see her to hear the affection in her voice. "Love you too, Steve."

[meraki24601]

Quotes

Whumptober day 16. Halfway! Woohoo! Never thought I'd make it this far lol. Prompt: “Don’t go where I can’t follow.”

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Whumpee’s thing was Lord of the Rings quotes. They used them all the time. 

If someone knocked something off their desk, they would be rewarded with the sound of Whumpee yelling, “Fool of a Took.” Generally said close enough to the person to make them jump.

They showed up to work late, and the boss started yelling at them, “A wizard is never late. Nor is he early. He arrives precisely when he means to.” They were written up for that one. 

Some of them were a bit more subtle. For example, one time Caretaker asked Whumpee if they wanted coffee. Whumpee’s answer was, of course, “Just tea, thank you.”

Because of that, when Caretaker found themselves in Whumpee’s hospital room, listening to the dangerously slow beeping of the heart rate monitor, they found themselves whispering, “Don’t go where I can’t follow.” 

Whumpee’s hand shook as they reached out to hold Caretaker’s face. Their thumb gently swiped across Caretaker’s cheek to sweep away their tears. “Death is just another path, one that we all must take.” Whumpee’s eyes clenched closed and their hand dropped from Caretaker’s face to grip at their side. 

Caretaker was gentle as they pried Whumpee’s hand from their side. They gently wiped away the wrinkles of pain from Whumpee’s face. “No, Merry. I’m going to look after you.”

Sobs filled the room. Caretaker was mindful of Whumpee’s injuries as they pulled them into their arms. They meant it. They were going to do whatever it took to see Whumpee well again.

[literalite]

keep eyes on the landslide wouldn't you pull me out?

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[hithertoundreamtof23]

Whumptober 2023 day 16

Chapter 2 (final chapter) of Red, Black, White, Pink

Prompt: Gurney | "Don't go where I can't follow"

*Must read Ch. 1

Whumptober Masterlist

[stormxpadme]

Whumptober 2023 No. 16 - Gurney/Flatline/"Don't go where I can't follow"

Scogan Bingo challenge Our Song

As tempted as Logan was, cutting off Tony's damn ugly head right this instant: He was honest enough to admit, this latest fuckup was mostly his own fault. Just three months after that period had ended when he'd not known if he'd ever share a damn battlefield with his partner again at all … Shouldn’t he seriously know better than leave said careless idiot out of his sight in any fight?

Maybe it was true what they said, that for ferals, learning by pain took particularly many lessons. "Stark!" Logan had to hold back from yelling into the damn radio integrated into his mask even more unrestrained, mostly because he'd need Tony's hearing on certain radio lines sharp and intact in a second, not bleeding all into the guy's helmet. "Get your metal butt down here."

"Still wrapping things in the sky, Logan." Visibly reluctant, Tony touched down on the still sickeningly largely red-stained concrete next to him. Guy was apparently unfazed that the actually well-protected spot between a couple of car wrecks where they'd left their injured team leader earlier, was suddenly deserted. "You don't want any of these escaping towards downtown unless you're keen on even more bad press." Tony gestured toward the dozens of pitch-black unmanned drones in the air, each of them armed to the teeth. Far too many of them indeed still operable, while Logan had at least been able to take care of almost all the enemy's tanks on the ground out before they could have reached the first inner city ring.

It was yet another despicable, senseless attack by their current arch-enemies that the Orchis public relations department would no doubt be quick to blame on what was left of mutantkind either way. No helping that. Neither artillery on wheels or wings nor the news were Logan's biggest worry for the moment. His claws extending as his agitation and anger grew, he took a warning step towards Tony's bulky shape, leaving no doubt about how quickly all those shiny, brand-new red and gold layers of metal would rip open after one well-aimed slash if the guy didn’t pull his head out of his own ass immediately. "I don't give a fuck about the sky. Missing something down here by any chance?"

Tony opened the visor of his helmet to reveal an honestly confused-seeming frown, his lips under his sweat-dripping goatee tight with sudden realization. "Uh. S.H.I.E.L.D. medics got Cyclops out of here 10 minutes ago while you were two blocks from here. He was stable so I wanted him out of the line of fire. I told them to get him straight to the Tower. I thought you called them …"

"I don't call government authorities. Ended up in one of their holding cells too often for that. You better tell me you got a signal on those medics. From S.H.I.E.L.D. Who just fucked off with one of the world's most wanted." Logan focused stubbornly on the required gravity in his growl to get it through to Tony how much the guy had just fucked up, clenching his fists only harder to keep himself under control.

"Look, they had the right badges and uniforms and all. I had JARVIS check their IDs. They belong to that small still functional part of S.H.I.E.L.D. that's on our side. I'm not an idiot, Howlett. They probably saw the news and were just nearby. No need to get your panties in a knot." While Tony started to sound seriously irritated, at least he was typing away on one of his arm displays at lightning speed now, no doubt exchanging a series of orders with his in-house AI. Hopefully, he wasn’t too late about second-guessing his trust in any kind of uniform actually seeing through the lies regarding Scott's – thanks to Orchis' so very damaged – reputation and legal record.

It had been a fight against windmills from the start, trying to get such truths through to the world, with the help of just as quick as public missions like this, putting their faces all over the news in the right context, before they fucked out of there again to go back under. The catastrophe that was the aftermath of the latest Hellfire Gala wouldn’t be reversed so easily, not this time. Logan hadn’t cared a lot for this farce from the start and was only playing along for now out of an annoying obligation to Tony and Emma, as without those two, he would have lost the man he loved once more half a year ago, and without any way currently available to get him back no less. Logan was not about to go through that all over again because of someone else's stupidity. Maybe Tony should be screwing Frost more often to get a couple of distracting excess hormones from his system. "I suppose you didn’t wonder why they came and left without sirens when they're supposed to transport someone with a sliced open femoral artery through New York rush hour."

"Look, I don't think …" But that only sounded like a very weak protest at this point, those hectic attempts of establishing said contact with that supposed E.R. car on Tony's communication system looking even more agitated. The guy's tanned skin had turned significantly whiter.

"No, you don’t. Or you might have remembered we didn't exactly have good experiences with ambulances lately." Logan tapped one of his claws against Tony's chest plate to make him work faster, a cynical grin curling on his lips when the guy winced, both from the unambiguous threat and the memory of all those months of housing not only Logan but a very special kind of patient in the laboratories of his Tower. "Unless you want to start putting Scott back together again all over – after you're done renumbering your own bones, that is – you better not have lost that car, Stark, I swear to god."

"We got them," Tony assured him to visibly his own relief, letting out the breath he'd been holding. "They're halfway on their way to the Tower. Looks good to me. JARVIS, hack the security camera of that E.R. car for me. Give me a visual." Tony let out a silent curse at the feedback he was receiving from his AI via the button in his ear. "Too far for a video feed from here. I got audio though."

"They say anything?" Logan started pacing the wrecks around them with his hands firmly folded behind his back and gritted teeth, still holding back by a thread from strangling Tony. But now he was at least willing to give this albeit unlikely development of one of their former partners actually being useful again to their kind for once a shot. Thing was, they indeed weren’t done yet, keeping their enemies from raining even more destruction down on the city and thousands of civilians, just to ruin mutantkind's standing on Earth even further. Leaving lightly was out of the question.

And Logan knew very well what Scott would have had to say about him leaving the party early. Much as he hated Stark's dick right now, it had been Scott earlier, sending Logan away after stupidly running into some damn bullet, the second he'd been stable enough to risk leaving him alone for a while.

It obviously wasn’t only Stark's ability of decision-making that had greatly suffered from recent events. Maybe in truth, it wasn’t even him, Logan was being so damn pissed at right now, waves of blood-red wrath gushing over in his mind as the usually well-suppressed images from the last time that Scott had ended up in captivity filled his soul. The distant sharp taste of bile in Logan's mouth as he'd entered this one damn room in that Orchis base and at first, had seen nothing but stitches, blood, infection, and explosives in cavities where they had no place being. Flashes of months filled with doubt and fear in his head, scraps of regular screaming matches in his ears, the fragrance of more alcohol than should have been inside a recovering patient at any point in his nose … Holding his partner's hand through one goddamn procedure after another, until miraculously, somehow, Scott had not only been back to his feet but in actual fighting shape … All of that, once more, possibly for nothing if Logan didn’t pull himself together right now, to function for the man he'd long stopped shying away from admitting how much he really loved him. He'd already lost the woman who had been part of that steadily growing and intensifying relationship of theirs, and there still was no telling if and when they'd get her back. He wouldn’t fucking lose Scott all over again as well. "Stark?"

Tony held up his hand impatiently to shut him up, with narrow eyes as he kept on trying to make out any suspicious conversations, any noise that had no business being in an emergency car, over that noisy line. "They're not talking. I don't hear them working either, though." He threw another restless glance at the smoke-filled sky and the surrounding streets, grunting every now and then at a new explosion far too close to not yet evacuated buildings nearby, as the scattered shapes of his automated suits were still busy, trying to take out all of the enemy's vehicles. Logan and he would both have been needed in that stand-down, still, there was no question about that. But not while they couldn’t be sure they weren’t needed somewhere else far more urgently right now. "He's awake though, I think. Sounds like he's okay." A hint of a grin twitched on Tony's lips, his posture relaxing the slightest bit when Logan, too, closed his eyes for a treacherous moment of premature relief. "Looks like they gave him some of the good stuff. Your guy's humming."

Immediately, the hope shyly flickering in the ice-cold worry filling Logan's soul froze all over. "Humming what?"

Tony tilted his head at him in confusion over Logan's lack of enthusiasm. "Well, he's not exactly Brian Johnson but sure sounds a lot like Highway to hell to me."

"Get me the fuck in the air. And better pray we catch up with them in time."

Tony didn’t get it, still, obviously, judging by that bewildered look on his face before his visor closed again but by now the two of them had been working together long enough at least for the guy to recognize that tone of absolute, unquestionable authority in Logan's voice that always said, playtime was over. That, no matter who was actually in command at any given time, better obeyed right now if they didn’t care to catch a claw. The hated uncomfortable pressure of a sturdy metal frame pressed against Logan's back as Tony wrapped his arms around his chest from behind, not giving him a second to prepare before yanking him off the ground. Logan's stomach dropped dangerously when the guy's current favorite suit sped up to its fastest capacity within split seconds, following the direction of the coordinates that JARVIS had long fed into Tony's helmet. "Wanna tell me at least why we're gonna make headlines for abandoning the battle before it's over this time?" Slightly breathless from the rapid takeoff and the atmospheric pressure on his body, Tony's annoyed voice in the radio link was slightly subdued but still loud enough for Logan's enhanced senses to pick up on.

"That's our song," he growled out between his own labored breathing and swallowing back the remains of a too-big breakfast in his throat. God fucking damnit, how much he hated flying. "He needs me. How far?"

"Another minute. We're close enough for a visual now." The hold of Tony's sturdy metal gloves on Logan's sides tightened for a moment as a dismayed noise escaped his lips. "Goddamnit, Logan, they opened the tourniquet. He's bleeding out. And they got blades in their hands. If they see us coming …"

"Hijack the car electronics, stop the damn thing. Distract them. Then drop me right above." Logan's voice was missing the suddenly hoarse quality of Tony's shocked words, even the threatening hiss of their argument a minute ago. The sober levity that he'd not least learned from the man he loved in the course of the decades had crept back into it, that was such a stark contrast to his instincts cut loose whenever a battle demanded a white run. Whenever he had to let the animal off its chain to cut his way through a whole army of hostiles, consequences and damage be damned. When that was needed, when he was forced to leave a fight covered in guts, he had no problem giving in to those basic desires for death and revenge; it was what he was good at. It was why Scott kept on hiring him for his teams whenever Logan was available for such conflicts. Because he was the fucking best at what he did. There were these kinds of situations though when the muzzled berserker threw himself against the bars of its cage in vain, drooling venom from split, raw lips in greed. When all that energy in his cells and his soul had to be fueled instead into the cold calculation of a single, perfectly orchestrated move, of one precise shot, just like he'd been taught to aim for it by a certain team leader a long time ago. Because the collateral damage of leashing out would include something Logan was not willing to sacrifice. Never again.

He could tell by the way Stark suddenly went very silent behind him, not even one of his stupid quips on his lips, that this rare, targeted side of Logan impressed – maybe scared – the guy a lot more than the usual blood dripping from his claws, and maybe that was enough in terms of retaliation for the man's stupid error earlier for Logan's taste already. Fuck-ups happened, and if there was one thing to be said about Tony at least, it was that he was usually very thorough about correcting them. When the inconspicuous white car with the blue cross painted on its sides in question finally came into their sight, Tony had indeed managed to stop it already, and in some remote alleyway far off the battle-induced chaos downtown no less where they could approach unseen. With the thrusters of Tony's suit reduced basically to zero, it required the guy to use a lot more physical strength instead. Not exactly a cake run thanks to Logan's adamantium-steeled weight as he very well knew. But that way, they could near the car's roof silently from straight above. Farther too long torturous seconds for Logan's taste passed while his partner just a few feet away was once more in mortal danger … But it was worth it, reluctantly giving in when Tony hissed at him to wait while he inched into the position that his visual was giving him, right above one of the enemies who were none the wiser, the driver trying under filthy curses to get the car going again while those other two goons screamed at him to hurry from behind.

Those shouts quickly stopped when Logan crashed through the car's roof with all of said heavy weight, instantly killing one of the enemies with the bone-shattering impact alone. The other died from some claws in his heart and in his lungs before he could even raise the hand with that damn blade either in Logan's direction or the one of the lifeless, blood-covered figure on the gurney in front of him.

Perceiving with only half an ear focused on his surroundings that Tony had taken out the driver with a well-aimed shot from his palm cannons as well, Logan already bent over his lover with his mouth bone-dry and his heart racing, cutting the next best sheet in reach into stripes with his claws to wrap it around Scott's injured thigh again … But one single look at his partner's ashen skin color, and the deafening silence in the back of that damn car, already let him know those desperate measures might be coming too late. "Stark!"

"On it." Tony flew through that hole Logan had just made and came down next to him with a clank, grabbing a handful of instruments and scanners from his belt Logan had no idea what the fuck they even were. Pushing Logan away from Scott's unmoving body, toward the headend of that gurney, he was discussing, ordering, pleading more nervous and angry by the syllable with his AI via his radio, too low for Logan's too harsh, too irregular breathing to make out every word. "Shit, he's flatlining. My girls are already on their way. We'll have transfusions here in less than two minutes. We just gotta keep him afloat until then." Audibly gritting his teeth, Tony stuck some shiny metal stuff somewhere to Scott's chest after ripping open his uniform top, following the instructions from his electronic helper that Logan knew he could trust at least for such inevitable emergency measures. "Might wanna step away."

"Just do it. Bring him back." Kneeling on the car's ground next to Scott, as his knees had suddenly given in, it was the second time within minutes that Logan hardly recognized the sound of his own voice. His hands were clenching down on his own thighs so harshly they almost broke the brown and black latex of his uniform as that certain terrible, frightening twitch jolted through Scott's body, leaving it rearing up against those straps around his chest and hips that Logan hadn’t even bothered to open yet. In vain, he listened for something, anything, the smallest thud in his ears, a single pained gasp, no matter how weak … His hands were shaking more than he cared to admit when he closed them around Scott's too-pale face, resting his forehead against his lover's, this time trying to no avail to get rid of those horrible memories of the last time he'd cowered over Scott like this, entirely convinced he'd have to carry it out of that damn house to the nearest coffin. "Come on, Slim. Get yourself together. We had that discussion. No going where I can't follow, remember?"

"Nothing. Gonna try again. Get back, Logan … Wait." Stark let out a deep hiss, lowering his hand with the remote for that mini defibrillator again, not a second after Logan had let out a suspicious noise almost close to a sob himself.

Already, Logan's lips were softly pressed to those beautiful full ones so close, over which a faint but definitely perceptible warm breeze had just come. Almost at the same moment, they had a rhythm again, and unbelievably, miraculously, Logan could feel the faintest twitch at where he'd instinctively reached for Scott's hand.

"Ouch."

"Anyone ever tell you, you got a terrible singing voice, Summers?" Tony straightened up from his hunched position with a chuckle and briefly squeezed Logan's shoulder, a gesture of support, friendship, and apology that Logan was only too ready to accept. "I'll get those transfusions and one of the medics."

Logan just barely nodded, with Tony flying off already, not taking his eyes off Scott's blood-smeared VISOR for even a second. Reaching for some cloth nearby, he carefully wiped it clean so he could be sure his lover would be actually looking straight at him when he whispered those certain small words to him that for a moment he'd been convinced he'd never get around to tell that damn idiot ever again. Jesus, this really needed to stop. "You know I love you, bub, but don't think that's gonna save you from me whupping your damn ass for that little stunt as soon as you're patched up."

"I saw her, Logan."

That answer that didn’t want to make the slightest sense at first was so far from the usual teasing back to such a promising threat that Logan raised his head again, pulling off his mask for a moment to be able to show his partner everything he'd gone through in the last few minutes, and his puzzled frown on top. "You saw …?" Her.

Her. Just when Logan had thought he'd managed to sober up, stop that dangerous loss of control of his emotions that someone with his gift could so seldom afford, especially not in public, he felt his eyes fill with tears all over again as it dawned on him what … where Scott could only have seen anything in those last few minutes of being dead more than alive. And what it might possibly mean that even in that short window, apparently his soul had been found by someone they'd both no longer been able to sure was still anywhere around on a half-mortal plane like this to even make contact like that. It still didn’t have to mean anything, of course. In spite of all the resistance they'd been able to rouse in the last few months, they still weren’t anywhere close to turning the current catastrophe around. The loss of the missing person in that relationship of theirs might never be undone … But maybe, just maybe, they could at least allow themselves a small shimmer of hope again. "Jeannie …"

"She says thank you." The weak hold around Logan's hand tightened another little bit as Scott pulled him close for another kiss. The faint scent of salt from those tears that his VISOR was hiding mixed with the few clear drops falling on his skin from Logan's face as they let themselves fall for a brief moment more into that closeness growing every day between them. Just for another sweet second or two before the nearing roar and hum of Tony's suit revealed, proper help was on its way.

'Still up and fighting, Red.' Logan could have sworn he heard the soft, bright chuckle of a beloved voice behind his forehead when he reluctantly let go of Scott to let the professionals – real ones this time – do their job. Still up and fighting.

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