#sticking needles in someone else = hot

[fancyhalloran]

I need to date someone purely so I can get them to do my hrt shots for me

[leighsartworks216]

Break The Fever

Zayne x gn!Reader

This is based on when I actually was hospitalized for three weeks with something they never figured out. Ah, back in the good ol days before covid

Warnings: hospital/hospitalization, sickfic, needles, light angst, established relationship

Word Count: 2,112 (nice)

Main Masterlist

Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

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The office phone began to ring. This was a normal occurrence.

Zayne set down his pen and brought the receiver to his ear. He expected a call about one of his patients - Mr. Jefferson refusing to take his medicine, one of the kids asking for permission to go outside and play. Something equally as normal that isn’t a full blown emergency.

This is an emergency.

“Dr. Zayne, you’re listed as the emergency contact for a patient that was just admitted.

His heart froze in his chest. His eyes immediately went to the snowman plushie on his windowsill. Who else would have him listed as an emergency contact?

“What were they admitted for?”

“They came to the ER with a 102 fever.”

“What room are they in?”

-

Everything was so, so cold.

Your teeth chatter uncontrollably. Your entire body convulses with shivers. Despite the sweater, hoodie, and three blankets keeping you warm, nothing brings warmth back into you.

They are trying to place a cannula in your arm. All you see is the needle they want to stick in you. You can’t think at all. Can’t calm yourself down enough to let them do their jobs. In your lucid, fever-driven haze, all you know is you’re terrified of needles. And you need to get away.

The nurse is about to try again, two other nurses holding you down to avoid hurting yourself or them, when a cool voice stops her. You recognize it, but you can’t quite place it. It’s like hearing three notes of a song.

Someone in a white coat takes over. He takes the needle, but keeps it out of your direct line of sight. Your hand is hot, clammy, and weak as he holds it. The other nurses let go. The sharp visage of Zayne hovering over you projects into your mind like a reflection on rippling water.

He says your name. Soft, but firm. Caring, but with an all-too-familiar edge of concern. “I need to put the cannula in your arm so we can start you on an intravenous drip,” he explains. “We’ll be able to draw blood and give you medicine this way. You won’t have to see another needle again after this.”

Your jaw hurts. Your teeth hurt. You grind them together to keep them from chattering, but they won’t stop. Tears prick your eyes. “‘M c-cold,” you whimper.

“I know. I promise to warm you up, but I need to do this first. Will you let me?”

You nod pathetically. He quietly thanks you, fighting the urge to breathe a sigh of relief. The cold of the cleaning wipe makes you hiss. Your exposed arm is covered in goosebumps. You don’t fight him anymore. As much as you can help it, anyway. You flinch and clench your hand, but you turn your head away as he inserts the cannula into your vein and tapes it in place. They draw a couple vials of blood, and hook you up to an IV that drips its solution down into your bloodstream.

Zayne carefully covers your arm again so the tube runs under your sleeve, and tucks it under your blankets. “Try not to move this arm too much,” he warns tenderly. “If it comes out, we have to do this again.”

You nod again, but you’re barely listening. You curl up onto your side facing the IV, trying to conserve any amount of heat.

For as much as he wishes he could comfort you in your suffering, he needs to figure out what the problem is. He needs to find a way to treat you. Surely, that would help more than watching you cry.

He tells a nurse to monitor your condition. If your fever rises any higher, they’ll have to take drastic measures to cool you back down before it causes irreparable damage.

He doesn’t let himself think about that.

Before he leaves, he holds your hand again. His thumb brushes your knuckles. You cling to him, shaking uncontrollably. A permanent ache latches onto his heart as he pulls away. Back to work. Back to saving your life. Like always.

-

The next time his phone goes off, it’s a notice from the nurse that your fever broke. It’s nearly 10pm, far past his work hours.

He leans away from the microscope and removes his glasses to rub at his tired eyes. If you could see him now, he’s sure you would be getting onto him for not getting enough rest.

He sighs heavily. The lab is dark. It’s just him and a desk light, and the light of the microscope on the slides of your blood. A machine in the corner whirs in a quiet hum, working to break down the components of your blood into numbers he can reference against his knowledge of medical ailments and the textbooks the hospital keeps on hand. It won’t be done for a while. He’s testing for everything he can think of, and more.

Resigned to taking a break, Zayne stands, cleans up the workspace, and turns the light off as he leaves.

His first stop is to his office. He calls a nearby restaurant on his way up, placing a familiar order for takeout. There were times when you’d stubbornly stay in his office until he finished a long surgery or paperwork. You were so excited when you discovered the little mom-and-pop place, and even happier when the food was good. He got all your favorites.

His office felt colder, somehow. Lingering there made his skin crawl with discomfort. He hung his coat up in its designated place. The plush snowman smiled at him from the window sill. He only hesitates for a second before grabbing it and heading straight for your room.

The hospital’s lights were dimmed. If it weren’t for the few nurses walking around, he could have tricked himself into thinking he was in his nightmares. Maybe this was a nightmare. A new one. But he remembers the way you held him. How real that felt. There was no way this was just a dream.

He cracks open the door slowly. The large window displays the beautiful sight of Linkon City lit up at night. The stars are vivid, blurring into the cacophony of neon lights and the bustle of humanity.

Your body is turned to face it, away from the door. All but one blanket has been shucked off, kicked to the foot of the bed or dropped carelessly onto the floor. Your sweatshirt and sweater are mostly off, save for the arm your IV fed into. At least you remembered to be careful.

He steps inside quietly, closing the door behind him with a soft click. You curl up into yourself with a sigh.

“I don’t need anything right now. You can go.”

He chuckles. You turn your head quickly at the sound, wincing when the world misaligns. “I just got here, and you’re already trying to get rid of me,” he teases. Your world slowly coalesces onto his face, leaning over you once more. He presses the back of his hand to your forehead.

“I didn’t know it was you.” His hand is blessedly cool against your flushed skin. You’re still warm, but the chills have subsided for the time being. “You can stay.”

He settles the snowman into the crook of your arm. You’re holding onto it before you even know what it is. He’s glad to see your smile at a time like this. “How are you feeling?” He moves around to the other side of the bed.

“Like I have no control over my body. Or my mind,” you admit. “It’s… hard to think straight. It’s all slow and muddled. And when I couldn’t stop shivering? Ugh, I hate it.”

Nimble fingers detach the IV from the cannula temporarily. Long enough to gently remove your layers. You sigh in relief at having your arm back. You were so cold earlier, but now you feel like the bed is on fire. Like every inch of your body is burning in an inferno.

“Your body was trying very hard to kill off whatever’s making you sick. By shivering, your body contracts and relaxes your muscles to generate heat and raise your core temperature. So while you feel cold,” he replaces the IV tube, “your actual temperature is extremely warm.” He rounds the bed again and sits down on the edge, busying himself with your chart. “On top of that, your high fevers are going to make staying lucid difficult.” He flips it over to the next page.

Guilt tugs at you as you watch him. He doesn’t have his lab coat, but he’s still got his doctor face on. Even now, so late at night, when he should be allowed to leave work behind, you’ve invaded his workplace, bringing his personal life with you. “I’m sorry.”

He looks at you. “What are you apologizing for?”

“Making you work even more, just to take care of me.”

“You don’t have control over being sick,” he says. He sets the chart aside.

“No, but…” You let go of the snowman to grab his hand. You frown. “I don’t know how to word it right now.”

He smiles imploringly, stroking your hand with his thumb. “Just do your best. I’ll work it out from there.”

You mull over how to phrase what you want to say, brain sluggish and twisting up thoughts until you could pull together the words enough. “I feel bad about it because I know you won’t go home now.” You watch your fingers pull from his hold enough to trace over the faint scars that litter his hand. He lets you, resting his hand against the bed. “Because… even though I want you to go home and sleep… I also don’t want to be alone here.”

“I think you worded that pretty well.” You meet his eyes, but you continue to feel along his hand. He catches your hand, trapping it against the bed and squeezing affectionately. “How about we come up with a compromise? I’ll stay with you at night and on my breaks, but I’ll go home in the morning to clean up, and come in at my regular hours. How does that sound?”

You nod slightly. “Deal, as long as I won’t get you sick.”

He shakes his head. “It doesn’t seem to be contagious. You don’t have to be worried about getting anybody else sick.”

“Good. I don’t want anybody else to feel like this.”

A light knock on the door disturbs the conversation. Zayne gets up and answers it, speaking softly with someone outside. You wonder if it’s a nurse, wanting to take your vitals again or looking for Dr. Zayne. But then there’s a crinkling sound and he’s coming back over to the bed with a large bag of takeout. You can’t help laughing a little.

“What’s so funny?” he asks as he begins pulling containers from the bag. He separates them into yours and his.

“I just wasn’t expecting it.” You slowly sit up, trying hard not to jostle the IV. It doesn’t escape your notice how Zayne watches from the corner of his eye. “Thank you.”

He smiles. “Of course.” He gestures for you to scoot over, so you do. Once there’s enough space, he sits down beside you, handing you utensils and your food. You’ve still got enough fine motor control to feed yourself. Though, even if you didn’t, he would have been more than happy to feed you.

After you’ve finished eating, Zayne clears the bed, tucking everything back into the bag. He takes his shoes off and sets them to the side before laying down next to you. Your head rests on his arm, hands holding the snowman plushie to your chest, with his other arm wrapped around you. His hand rubs comforting shapes into your lower back.

“Goodnight, Zaynie,” you whisper.

He presses a kiss to your forehead. “Goodnight, my love.”

Through everything you face next, you aren’t alone. When you wake up at 3am to chills wracking your body, he’s helping you put your sweatshirt back on and layer you in blankets. When the fever recedes and you’re desperately trying to get all the layers off, he’s speaking to you softly, pressing chilled hands to your neck and forehead to calm you down while he helps you. Even when he goes home in the morning, and when he has to leave to take care of his other patients, he’s only a call away, directing your care behind the scenes. Three weeks later, he’s the one filling out your discharge forms. He never figures out what caused it.

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover

[dawnwriterimagines]

debt that’s owed : Fezco (3)

Summary:  Laurie needs someone to pay her the debt that’s owed to her, Rue ran from her, which gives her the perfect opportunity to use Fezco’s words against him. But, is she worth you?

Warning(s):  Angst, talk of overdose, Fear, Drugs, mentions of sex trafficking, Laurie’s crazy ass once again, etc.

(PART 1)     (PART 2)

Author’s Note: What a beautiful man we lost, in every sense of the word. Rest in Peace Angus. Gone too soon. We all love and appreciate the works you’ve done, the lives you’ve changed and the love you give, rest well in beautiful peace.

 Buy me a Coffee? Ko-Fi 

- - -

You had woken up disoriented and drugged, a needle still sticking out of your arm, a few too many holes made that made your skin splotchy and purple. Laurie had been standing over you, hushing you as she took the needle from your skin, kissing your wrist as a mother would have her only child before she stood. “Laurie...” you sighed out, trying to make sense of what was happening. “Laurie. Please...”

The older woman rubbed your cheek, “Shhh...” the touch running through your system all the way down to your toes, you took a breath, shivering at the discomfort. “They don’t like it when you girlies talk too much, hush now, sweetie.” You’d never felt like this before. You felt terrible. 

She left the door open when she left the room, a man you didn’t recognize peeking through the crack of the doorway to look at you, he gave a pleased laugh, whistling. 

You turned on the floor, the blanket beneath you did nothing to shelter you from the cold floor below. The lights were dim from the tiny lamp in the corner, nothing else in the room, but it wasn’t very big anyway.

It took a while to realize you were naked, only from recalling what you had been wearing earlier, and the cold air that you could feel everywhere but nowhere all at once, cause you were sweating terribly. Feeling incredibly hot all of a sudden. You rolled around, pulling the blanket with you as you broke out into a fever, the discomfort you felt was enough to distract you from the horrifying situation you were in currently.

“Laurie...” you drawled, whimpering as the drugs took you once again. It didn’t feel right at all, you felt sick and you felt fucking amazing all at the same time, but you were scared most of all. You had no idea what she had been pumping you with for the last few hours. “Fez...” you called for your boyfriend, sobbing as your eyes rolled back as you quickly succumbed to the feeling. “Fezziee...” you hiccupped.

“I like this one,” you heard the stranger say.

The man at the doorway pulled out a scrunched up wad of cash from his pocket, beginning to slide off his jacket, before Laurie stopped him with a shake of her head. “Just watching for now. She’s not ready yet, still under prep. But, if you wanted to purchase her, that’s different...”

You shivered as you followed your high, wondering what would happen next and if Fezco would ever find you before something horrible happened to you.

- - -

Fezco looks around as he rushes over to Rue, checking for anyone that was around the house that may be unwanted, clearly on edge. “What the hell are you doin’ here, Rue?” he questioned the girl, she follows the two of them into the house. “Imma need you to leave, I ain’t askin’.”

Her gaze lingering on the broken screen door, unable to even close it as it had no knob now, the whole piece completely gone as if it’d been blown to pieces, “I wanted to hang out...but obviously you’ve got some shit goin’ on,” her eye’s going wide at the state of the house. “What the--what the fuck happened here?” the glass on the floor, the broken deck doorway, the flipped table, the broken lamp on the floor, the scuffled carpet.

Rue steps into the house, slowly, Ash getting on the computer, looking for something, Fezco making a call, his shoulders low as if something heavy sat upon them. The girl’s eye’s narrowing as she followed the scuffs over to the room hallway, the bedroom down the hall had its door broken down, wooden pieces still on the floor. 

Concerned was not the word to describe how she felt right. Scared wasn’t either. Worried, maybe. But, she was also pretty terrified. Terrified of the answer to her next question.

“Fez,” she hadn’t torn her eyes away from the hallway when she spoke, her voice small, reluctant. “Where’s (Y/n)?” she turns then, her brows knitted together in complete worry, stumbling forwards and away from the hall. She makes her way over to Fezco, taking a handful of his shirt as she pulls him, “Fez!” her voice breaks, her fists shaking, “Where is she?!” she sucks in a breath as she sees his face and the way he doesn’t look her in the eye. “No...” she shook her head. “What so she’s...she’s what? She’s gone?” her voice raising. “Is (y/n) gone, Fez? Come on, gimme something!”

“She’s not gone,” Fezco turned to her with a hardened look, pulling her hands from his shirt, the material stretching out as her grip hadn’t loosened. “Imma find her. Imma find her and kill the motha’fucker that did this,” he seethed to himself, stepping away from her. “Ash, go over the tapes. Try yesterday and this morning, find a camera that isn’t fucked with.”

Ash doesn’t say anything but nod, rushing to the room down the hall as Fezco took the laptop from him, sitting down on the couch, Rue following Fezco, still confused with what was going on.

“Who...wait, who did this?” Rue asked, loudly. “Stop ignoring me, man.”

“I told you to fuckin’ go home, Rue,” Fezco’s eyes flickered up to the girl before back down at the screen, rewatching this morning’s tapes, trying to find someone he recognized. “I ain’t need this right now.”

“Need what? I’m tryin’ to help you,” Rue frowned, offended. “I wanna help! My best friend’s fucking missing, well...kidnapped, by some fucking jackass and even trashed your crib,” she gestured around the house at the damage. “Lemme do something, I can help! I can help find her!”

Fezco looked up toward her, agitated. “You wanna do somethin’ helpful?”

“Yeah, dude!” She nodded before making a face. “Wait, you aren’t gonna just tell me to leave--”

“Go home, Rue.”

“Oh, come on!” she yelled out. “I can help you! I be doin’ mad detective shit. Besides you need all the help you can get, it’s not like you can ask the guys in blue.”

Fezco ignored her for now, trying to stay focused. “Just go sit down somewhere, man. I don’t got time for this.”

And so, reluctantly, Rue went towards the other side of the couch, around towards Ashtray, she sticks her head out of the sliding panel doorway, which was now gone, broken through. Alarmed, she looks down at the glass at her feet, it crunches, burying itself further into the carpet. 

Behind her, Ashtray took a note from his pocket, letting it sit on the coffee table, sliding it over to his brother. “This gotta mean something. Wanna run this through some contacts?”

Fezco thinks on it, before nodding at the idea. “Yeah, man. Let’s try it.” 

As they head back to work, Rue perks up at the new source of info, “Wait, ya’ll got a clue?” coming over to the coffee table, picking up the note, Fezco fumes and Ashtray gaps at the girl’s unwanted involvement.

“Rue!” Fezco grits. “What I just tell you, man!” He usually saw her presence as quite endearing

Rue brushes him off. “I’m good at riddles, just--” then she really looks at the note. 10k.

10k...?

Oh my fucking god, 10k.

As Fezco snatches the note from her grip, Rue stands there, horrified. Her expression morphing completely, shoulders stiffening and hands tensing up, she turns quickly so Fezco can’t see the mortified look on her face. The guilt that quickly begins to eat at her. 

She had thought about it, of course. Of the money she owed Laurie, the drug dealer that she had made a fake deal with in a pathetic effort to get the pills that her regular plug, Fez, had been refusing her. In some way, she blamed Fezco, if he had just given her the damn pills and let her deal with whatever happened to her later, maybe she would’ve never went to Laurie, maybe you wouldn’t have gotten kidnapped...

No, it was her fault, oh my god it her fault. She went to Laurie cause she was fucking desperate and then she ran when Laurie had gotten her the first time, but now you were taken in her place.

She recalled being drugged out of her mind, just as she wanted, but locked in a room and awaiting to be sold for a fuck. 

Rue feels so goddamn sick all of a sudden. She wanted to vomit. 

God, that’s what you could be dealing with right now. 

She did this. Oh god, she did this to you.

But, Fezco does notice. 

“Rue...” he says, slowly.

Ashtray looks up, stopping in his typing. He glances between the two of them silently, before looking at Rue a bit more seriously, taking note of the way her entire demeanor’s changed. He closed the laptop.

Rue didn’t answer Fezco, didn’t even turn to face him, trying to think of something to say, anything that could defend why. But what could she possibly say besides the fact it was supposed to be her.

Fezco forcefully turned the girl around, “Rue!” to which she stumbled back away from him, her face made his stomach drop, knowing now that she knew exactly why this was happening. “You...”

“I didn’t know, I swear, ok?” Rue started, hyperventilating, sniffling as she wiped a panicked tear from her face. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking, I felt like I was fucking dying, Fez! I was dying! And I--I just--Fez!” she cried as he turned from her, running his hands over his hair, down his face, trying to gather himself, trying to keep himself together. “Fez, I’m sorry! I’m sorry, please, I didn’t think she’d come after anyone, I didn’t think any of it would go this far, please--” 

Ashtray’s eyes widened, lost for words.

“RUE!” Fezco roared, his body snapping towards her, pinched fingers silencing her, “Motherf--FUCK! Are you fucking--!” he shoved at the side wall, hitting anything that wasn’t her as anger overwhelmed him. “Are you out of your fucking mind, Rue?!” he couldn’t believe this. How far the girl had really fell to really get herself, to get you, into this kind of situation. 

“I know! I know! I know!” Rue sobbed, covering her face as Fez screamed at her. “Fucking god, I know! I messed up!”

“DO YOU?! Cause (y/n)’s paying for your bullshit, your fucking dumb ass, fuck shit! You mother--get the fuck out,” he fumed, running a hand over his mouth, gesturing to the door. He turned from her, he couldn’t even stand to look at her right now.

Rue sniffled, shaking. “Fez...Fez, I’m sorry. I can fix it, I can--”

“GET. THE FUCK,” Fezco explodes. “OUT!”

And Rue has no other choice but to leave, casting a guilty glance to Ashtray as well, who stares her down as if he were ready to pull the trigger on her with the glock he currently suddenly had in his hand. 

She quickly left the house, sobbing to herself, hardly able to breathe as she stumbled away from the steps. “I’m sorry...” she hiccupped, turning to the house. “I’m sorry, please...” she whispered. “I can fix this...please, I can...I can fix this.”

Rue made her way away from the house though. Making up her mind to fix this. She can fix this...

- - -

Fezco and Ashtray took their guns, a few mags full of bullets and as much cash they had stashed up, just over 8k, not enough to cover, given the raid that cut their stash short for a while. But, if Laurie wouldn’t take the bribe than getting violent was the next best thing. And Fezco didn’t mind the latter.

So when they arrived at Laurie’s home, weapons tucked into their waist bands, into the inner pockets of their jackets, Fezco parked up, Ashtray loading up his shotgun and snapping the end back into place. “Blow the bitch’s head off if this don’t work out, ight man.”

“That’s the plan, bruh,” Ash said, his young face hardened with his hatred for the sadistic dealer that had stolen his mother from him..

Fezco leaves the car, walking up to the house, fighting the urge to kick the door in and unload every bullet into someone’s fucking skull...”What’chu want, man?” Bruce, Laurie’s partner, large and intimidating in his size, glared down at Fezco.

The young man wasn’t swayed, unblinking eyes peering up at him. “Laurie.”

Bruce frowned at the tone. “You got yo’ shit this month, ain’t you? Unless you got payment already?”

“Laurie, man,” Fezco fought to keep his cool. “Where is she?”

Bruce put his hand on the gun he kept at the waistband of his trunks, “What you gotta say ta her, you can say to me.”

Fezco stood there a while, the two men exchanging violent glares, eyes boring into the other and Fezco itched to grab the gun at his side and let loose. But, he didn’t even know if you were even at this house, he needed to know first. “Ma girl...(y/n), where she at, bruh?”

Bruce smirked, straightening. “Shoulda started with that,” Fezco’s nostrils flared at his words. “You got the money to buy her back, huh?”

“She ain’t belong to nobody, man. And ya’ll fucked wit us with some shit that ain’t got nothin’ to do with her,” Fezco gritted his teeth. “Thought we was cool on this bullshit, bruh.”

“You said she was family,” came Laurie’s soft-spoken voice. She came around the corner, behind Bruce, patting her husband’s arm to back him up, “Didn’t you?”

“She’s a fuckin’ child. And got her ass into some shit. But, if you had a problem wit us, come to me,” Fezco sneered. “You came up and took ma girl--” his nails bite into the palms of his hand, he itched to kill this fucking bitch and her demented ass husband. “Where the fuck is she?”

Laurie calmly stepped in front of Fezco. “Don’t worry, Fez. She’s ok,” she assured him, with dead eyes and a quiet voice. “But, remember, I still need 10 thousand, and another few hundred more for a few packs of morphine, a bit of fentanyl...” as Laurie spoke, Fezco’s heart clenched. 

Fezco tosses the bag at her feet, “A lil’ over $8500 in there,” he said. “I don’t give a fuck if it ain’t enough for you, you took my girl, all your fucked bullshit, trashed ma crib, my fucking family--” he huffed harshly to contain himself. “This all you fucking gettin’ from me, and it’s more than you’ll ever get from us again. Where. Is. She. You fucking bitch.”

Bruce took a step towards him at his words, stopped by Laurie, who held a hand up to keep him where he was, entranced by the rage on the young man’s face. “That’s fair, I suppose.”

“Laurie--” Bruce began.

“Come on in, she’s right in here, Fez,” she welcomed him inside.

Fezco followed her inside, Bruce sneering at him, to which Fezco didn’t bother to acknowledge, all he was focused on now was finally getting his hands back on you, rescuing you from this dreaded place.

Laurie stopped in front of a locked room, pulling out a key from her pocket, the lock clicks open. She takes the lock off and opens the heavy door with a light grunt, the dim lighting offering nothing much, but it was light enough to see you in the middle of the room. 

Breathing harshly, turned on your side, skin drenched with sweat, “Fez...” you drawl out, constantly. “Fez...Fez...” you cried, silently, delirious as you tossed and turned.  

Fezco races into the room, “Ma!” he cries, sliding to his knees at your side, quickly sitting you up, wrapping the thin blanket around your naked frame. “Hey, hey, baby, hey,” he gently slaps your cheek, stroking your flushed face as you shiver in his arms, your eyes unfocused, rolling in the back of your head. 

He didn’t like that, taking your face in his hand. “(y/n), (y/n) look at me, look at me, come on, ma. Look at me,” he turned your head to look him in the eye, “Please, baby, can you look at me, you can, you got it, ya see,” you slowly began to regain consciousness, eye sight clearing. “That’s my girl. Look, you’re ok, you’re alright,” he rubs your arms, you’re freezing but you’re sweating terribly.

“Fez...” you whispered.

“I’m right here, ma,” he assured you. Picking you up off the ground, blanket wrapped tight. “I’m right here. I gotchu, come on, we’re going home, baby,” he stands, heading to the door. Casting a long glare to a calmly smiling Laurie, before exiting the room, he couldn’t afford to do any damage, not when you were in this condition.

“I don’t feel...” you spoke, loosely. Head limp against his shoulder, eyes hardly open. “I don’t feel that great, fez...”

“You’re alright, you’re alright, ok?” Fezco went down the hall as fast as he could, keeping the fear out of his voice, the panic from his tone. 

Coming up to the front door, where he found Rue standing at the steps. Bruce had a short stack of cash in hand that he didn’t have before, less than 10k clearly, but enough to make him happy enough to move out of the way when Fezco made his way past.

The young girl was crying hard, relief clear in her face as she saw Fezco come around the corner with you in his arms, but the state of you made her heart drop. “(Y/n)...hey, is she alright?” she asked, worriedly. “Fez...” To which Fezco brushed her off, moving past her without as much as a word of acknowledgement. 

Ashtray opens passenger door for Fez to place you in, buckling you up as you slump, quickly beginning to pass out once again. “Hey, don’t sleep. Wake up. Mom!” Ashtray startles you awake, leaning over towards you in the backseat as Fezco runs around to the other side to the driver seat. Rue enters the backseat, hesitantly, and stays quiet to not be noticed. She looks at your tired, uncomfortable face in the side mirror, and she cries a bit harder.

Fezco drives off with a final glance to Laurie and her husband waving them off at the step, as if they had just passed by for tea and cookies. The psychopaths'. They waved, knowing he’d be back for blood.

“You’re ok,” he says as he drives. Squeezing your thigh as you shift and turn, “You’re ok, hey, ma. Ma, baby,” he draws your attention. “Hey, there you are, baby.”

You’re lucid and high off whatever the hell must be in your system when you smile at him, “Hi, baby...” you smile at him, before slumping once again. 

Terrified what may happen if you fall asleep, he yells. “(Y/n)!” he startles you awake again.

“I’m sorry,” you cry.

“You’re ok, it’s ok, just keep awake for a little alright?”

“Can we go home now...” you wondered, quietly.

“On our way,” Ashtray says. Fezco glances at his little brother in the mirror.

But, they don’t go home. They stop by a friend’s spot, who had offered to let them crash for the next few days, since he was out of town and they were in some shit.

Entering the home, Fezco carries you to the tub, Rue following behind, as Ash locks the door behind him. Filling up the tub as you lean against the porcelain edge, the warm water clearly calming you, the sound of the running pipe...

But before anything, Fezco sticks his fingers down your throat, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he repeats as he forces you to gag up anything you might have ingested, emptying out your stomach contents, which wasn’t much. You sniffle and cry, hacking up whatever you could get out, leaning against your lover as your stomach churns in discomfort.

He then helps you into the tub, the water climbing to your chest. Cleaning the dirt from the floor you had been laying on, the dried blood and the horrors of the day...

Fezco takes off his sweater and his jeans, left only in his underwear, he steps into the tub behind you, holding you close, “There you go, baby,” he soothingly speaks to you, kissing your forehead as he squeezes you. “You’re alright now. I’ve gotchu, I got you...”

He glances down at the holes in your arm, bruised and crusted with blood, your hands were cut from the glass earlier. He raised one of your hands to his lips as you turned to lean your cheek to his chest, and he began to cry, closing his eyes tightly.

You slept as he wept.

 But he was grateful he had gotten you back.

At least god had given him that much today.

He kissed your hands, your knuckles, your cut skin, the tips of your fingers.

Then, he just held you to him as the faucet dripped to a stop.

- - - 

Awakening in a strange bed, in an unfamiliar place, you stood fast and out of the bed, your back slamming against the wall in surprise. You reached for a light switch, but you couldn’t see anything around you, nothing felt familiar at all, you shook in terror as the man you laid next to stirred and sat up in your mad scramble for light.

“No, no, please!” you collapsed in the corner, covering your mouth before the stranger could even say a thing, he had stood too fast for you to think nothing else but soon violence brought against you. 

“Ma! It’s me! It’s me,” Fezco found a light switch, the dark, unfamiliar room illuminating, to reveal himself to you. “It’s just me.”

You released a heavy sigh of relief, that visible took a weight off your chest. But, it also made your tears run fast, the days having been too much for you, the thought alone had brought you down to your knees and crushed you before you even knew it wasn’t true. 

Fezco quickly went around the bed, coming to sit in front of you, to which you fell into his arms, quickly wrapping your arms around him. “I’m sorry,” you sobbed. “I thought someone--I didn’t know if I--” Fezco interrupts you with a simple stroke of her cheeks, running his thumbs across your cheekbones to soothe your thoughts and wipe your tears.

“I know, I know,” he whispered to her, his voice cracks as his control leaves him. It pains him too much to see you break like this. “But, what happened, huh? You’re here with me. They didn’t get you, baby. They didn’t. You’re here with me.”

“You saved me,” you hiccupped, holding him desperately, just wishing to be close enough to feel nothing but him. “I thought I’d never see you again. That I’d never see Ash.”

“Impossible, ma,” he said, pressing his lips to your forehead. “Can neva get rid of me, you know that. And Ash on his own lil’ demon time, he ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

You release a watery laugh at his joke, sniffling harshly as Fezco rocks you in his arms, safely keeping you wrapped up in his embrace. 

There’s a knock at the door, they raise their heads, Ashtray entering the room, silently. He stands there for a second as he shuts the door behind him, he shifts from one foot to the other, eyes glancing around, a frown on his face. 

“Ash?” you whispered, looking to the boy. Fez knew though, what was wrong.

As Ashtray looked at you finally, his frown deepened, but it wasn’t a frown, just a miserable look he couldn’t hide anymore, a joy that trailed to sadness and brought tears to his usually hardened eyes. And then suddenly, Ash looked like the little boy that you had always allowed him to be, and that he would’ve never been again if you had gone.

“Ash...” you spoke, softly. Reaching out to him, you pulled him by the wrist, into your arms this time. And he broke like glass.

Like a dam, his tears flow like a downpour. An unwilling sob escapes him as he sniffles and cries into your shoulder, embracing you as he hoped he’d be able to every time he prayed to God for your safe return. 

You kissed Ashtray’s forehead, stroking his face, his hair, and you squeezed him like no one ever had. You breathe deeply, a shiver leaves you as you fight your own tears, “Oh, my sweet boy,” you hold him close, as he buries himself to you. “I love you, I love you.” You say it fast, and you say it with all the love you have, like it could be your last time.

Complete. Is how their family felt again. Fezco engulfed himself in the feeling. The thought of losing you, the absence of you, it would’ve destroyed them.

Fezco leans his forehead to his brother’s, knocking heads gently, the boy peering up to him as he sniffles into your neck. The big brother tenderly rubs his little brother’s head, he kisses his soon wife and let them both fall into his chest, into the side of the bed.

And like the family they were, they collapsed against one another, holding each other tight.

Everything’s ok.

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[lunajay33]

New World🍂Part.4

Summary: Things go wrong when you’re stuck on the highway and Daryl has been acting strange ever since you told him you loved him

Part.3

•Masterlist•

Along the way we had to ditch Daryl’s truck and now he was on his motorcycle leaving you to ride with Shane, but you all had to stop due to the road block and the RV breaking down……again

It’s been a hard few days the drive was tiring, a heard of walkers came threw and now Sophia was missing and people have been out looking for her for a day now, you were now out with Rick, Shane and Carl helping look when you came across a beautiful deer

You held carls hand as you both slowly approached the deer as we got closer he stood infront of you admiring the little magical moment as Shane and Rick watched

Then a bang was heard and you felt a boiling pain in your side, you looked down seeing blood quickly seeping from your shirt

You fell to the ground as Rick and Shane ran over putting pressure on your wound, you were so confused everything was a blur, the shouts your vision, everything

“What’s hap…happening?” Dazed you faintly heard another man approach then everything went dark

Feeling shaken you opened your eyes seeing Shane frantically running with you in his arms

“Ya hold on, we ain’t losing no one else ya hear me?”

You couldn’t answer nothing felt right

~~~~~~~~~

You woke up feeling hot, hair sticking to your face you tried to sit up but screamed out in pain

“You need to stay down dear” an older man said as he gently pushed me back down

“What happened, where am I?”

“You were shot, this is Hershel he’s gonna help you” you looked to your right to see Shane sitting by the bed, maybe Shane wasn’t that bad after all

“I need Daryl, please” you pleaded scared something might happen and you won’t have him in your finally moments

“I’ll find him” a girl in the corner said as she left the room

Then everything felt cold and you passed out again

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Daryl’s pov

We were walking out in the woods lookin for Sophia when we heard a gun shot, there was a feeling in my chest that something happened but she was with Shane and Rick she should be fine and it was only one shot

We kept walking when a girl came riding up on a horse knocking out a walker

“Who’s Daryl?” She asked in a hurry

“Who’s askin?” How the hell did she know my name

“Y/n’s been shot you need to come with me” usually I wouldn’t trust this but she knew her name and I couldn’t risk it, I threw my bow over my shoulder and hoped on the horse

We rode off for a while till we came to an old farm house, rode right up to the front door where Rick and carl came out

I jumped off and tried pushing past to go in but Rick held me back

“What the hell happened?” I asked feeling angry, scared

“We were looking at a deer and Otis was tracking it, bullet went straight threw, grazed my shoulder and went right into her side” Carl explained

“She’s been in and out” Rick said as he led me inside to a room where she was laying, pale as snow, a sheen of sweat covered her skin

I sat my crossbow down and sat on the bed next to her, Shane was in the corner and a man with white hair was coming in

“Will she be okay?” I asked pushing her hair back

“She’s getting weak, her blood pressure is dropping, I’ve gotten a few fragments out but I can’t get some she’s lost too much blood”

“Giver mine, we’re the same, take it” I said ripping my shirt up readying for it

“Are you sure?”

I nodded as he came over and put the needle in, making me think about what’s happened between us lately

She told me she loved me, I didn’t say it back, don’t know why she’d say that, why would she love me she could hold out and wait for anyone, someone good she can’t love me…..no one can, and now I can barely look at her without feeling a tightness in my stomach, my heart clenching when I see her eyes full of worry

When the walkers came through the highway I couldn’t find her, all I heard was a scream and I thought she was gone and she would’ve died thinking I was…..well I don’t know what I feel but I know I can’t lose her

Hershel went on with the surgery now that she had the blood transfusion and stitched her up now I was just waiting for her to wake up….if she’d wake up

~~~~~~~~~

Normal pov

You woke up with a thumping headache and a sharp pain in your side, all the memories of what happened came flooding back, you looked around frantic but still so weak

No one was around so you got up slowly trying to maneuver yourself without ripping open your side, you managed to to get up and walk out to the front door, the fresh air was nice

You sat on the top step of the porch and let the air blow across your face cooling you down as you felt a lump in your throat

It’s been so hard lately, one thing after another keeps happening and you didn’t know how much longer you could take it

Tears slide down your cheeks and dropped onto your thighs, someone must have changed you cause you were in baggy shorts and an oversized shirt

You just felt like a burden to everyone now, you were looking for Sophia and you got injured and maybe she was out there dead now because everyone was too focused on you

You wiped your tears as you saw Daryl come walking towards the house, seeing tents were set up near by everyone must be here now

“The hell are ya doin out of bed?” He asked with a bit of anger to his voice

You didn’t answer, too tired mentally and physically you respond

“Y/n? Are ya okay?” You just shrugged finally looking at him

“Come on ya need to stay in bed” he said picking you up slowly and bringing you back inside to the bed

“I missed ya” he said as he sat next to you

“Why?” After his treatment and avoidance of you lately felt like he didn’t care anymore, he’s never done that to you before

“Why? Cause yer my best friend, yer all I got” he said confused

“Didn’t seem like that the past few days” you groaned as a pain shot from your side

“ ‘m sorry”

It was silent between you both as the tears welled again

“I’m tired Daryl, I’m so tired”

“Told ya, ya need to sleep”

“No, I’m tired, I should have stayed at the CDC with Jacqui, I don’t wanna do this anymore” you whined

“Don’t speak like that, I ain’ lettin ya give up, ya can’t, yer my person peach, please don’t leave me” he whispered as he felt a pain in his chest, seeing you like this for the first time trying to give up made his heart hurt

“I’m sorry D, im just scared, when I got shot all I could think about was you, how if I died you wouldn’t be there, how you were ignoring me and that would be our last memory, I just don’t wanna hurt anymore Daryl, I love you too much for you to ignore me” he wiped you tears away and held your cheek

“I luv ya too, I should’ve said it ‘fore, just never had someone love me like you do” he said as he leaned forward and placed a quick gentle kiss to your lips

It was a small kiss but a big step for him, he pulled back and you were both smiling

“Ya promise to never give up” he asked pleading

“I’ll try Dixon, for you I’ll try”

—///—///—///—///—///—///—

Part.5<-

If you wanna be a part of the taglist lmk in the comments and what you’d like to see more next in the story

Taglist: @thebadbatch2022 @deansapplepie @writer-ann-artist @ghostboneswrites

[prahelika]

Arya Stark Appreciation Week: Day 3

Overlooked Traits : Emotional Intelligence

Game of Thrones massacred Arya's character so badly that to someone who watched the show first (mostly), she appeared downright emotionless.

Safe to say that her emotional intelligence is a criminally underrated trait.

One of Sansa's first mentions of Arya goes like this.

Sansa knew all about the sorts of people Arya liked to talk to: squires and grooms and serving girls, old men and naked children, rough-spoken freeriders of uncertain birth. Arya would make friends with anybody. This Mycah was the worst; a butcher's boy, thirteen and wild, he slept in the meat wagon and smelled of the slaughtering block.

- Sansa I, AGOT

She makes friends with anybody. While she doesn't fit in with the highborn ladies of Winterfell, she is universally adored by the smallfolk there.

Arya had loved nothing better than to sit at her father's table and listen to them talk. She had loved listening to the men on the benches too; to freeriders tough as leather, courtly knights and bold young squires, grizzled old men-at-arms. She used to throw snowballs at them and help them steal pies from the kitchen. Their wives gave her scones and she invented names for their babies and played monsters-and-maidens and hide-the-treasure and come-into-my-castle with their children. Fat Tom used to call her "Arya Underfoot," because he said that was where she always was.

- Arya II, AGOT

The show portrayed Arya as someone who loses her softness and sweetness as her life gets progressively darker. This couldn't be further from the truth. In ACOK, where her father has just died and she is in hiding among the men of the Watch, even then, she tries her best not to take it out on anyone else. When Hot Pie bullies her for Needle, she remains non-confrontational. He instigates both verbally and physically.

Arya slid her practice sword from her belt. "You can have this one," she told Hot Pie, not wanting to fight. "That's just some stick." He rode nearer and tried to reach over for Needle's hilt.

- Arya I, ACOK

Something else worth noticing is that she stays in hiding in various dangerous places skillfully, in both ACOK and ASOS. No one suspects her of being Arya Stark (excluding Jaqen H'ghar). She even serves as cupbearer to Roose Bolton, and manages not to draw his ire.

She filled Roose Bolton's cup, and did not spill a drop.

- Arya IX, ACOK

This, by the way, isn't just a byproduct of the trauma she endured. All the way back in the first book:

It was the scariest thing she'd ever done. She wanted to run and hide, but she made herself walk across the yard, slowly, putting one foot in front of the other as if she had all the time in the world and no reason to be afraid of anyone. She thought she could feel their eyes, like bugs crawling on her skin under her clothes. Arya never looked up. If she saw them watching, all her courage would desert her, she knew, and she would drop the bundle of clothes and run and cry like a baby, and then they would have her. She kept her gaze on the ground. By the time she reached the shadow of the royal sept on the far side of the yard, Arya was cold with sweat, but no one had raised the hue and cry.

- Arya IV, AGOT

Something else of note is her kindness even when she's suffering. The way she takes care of Weasel even when she's starved or scared.

"You leave Weasel alone, she's just scared and hungry is all." Arya glanced back, but the girl was not following for once.

- Arya V, ACOK

This is what she does - she takes care of people, even when she needs taking care of herself. In Braavos:

"He has no coin," mocked the fair-haired bravo. His dark-haired friend grinned and said something in Braavosi. "My friend Terro is chilly. Be our good fat friend and give him your cloak." "Don't do that either," said the barrow girl, "or else they'll ask for your boots next, and before long you'll be naked." "Little cats who howl too loud get drowned in the canals," warned the fair-haired bravo. "Not if they have claws." And suddenly there was a knife in the girl's left hand, a blade as skinny as she was. The one called Terro said something to his fair-haired friend and the two of them moved off, chuckling at one another. "Thank you," Sam told the girl when they were gone.

- Samwell III, AFFC

There's one last point: apologies. This may not seem very important, but sometimes I see discussions where people claim that Arya is a selfish girl, does not take accountability for her mistakes etc. (usually in the context of Sansa). This is, as most anti-Arya sentiments, blatantly untrue.

Arya raised her eyes. "I'm sorry, Father. I was wrong and I beg my sweet sister's forgiveness."

Sansa was so startled that for a moment she was speechless. Finally she found her voice. "What about my dress?"

"Maybe … I could wash it," Arya said doubtfully.

"Washing won't do any good," Sansa said. "Not if you scrubbed all day and all night. The silk is ruined."

"Then I'll … make you a new one," Arya said.

Sansa threw back her head in disdain. "You? You couldn't sew a dress fit to clean the pigsties."

- Sansa III, AGOT

Arya offers a genuine apology here, even after her sister says horrible things. She even speaks perfectly here, remembering her courtesies. (Keep in mind, this is also after Sansa and Jeyne have told Arya that Mycah's death was her fault. She would be well within her rights to demand an apology from Sansa first.)

The last words they exchange here are:

"It won't be so bad, Sansa," Arya said. "We're going to sail on a galley. It will be an adventure, and then we'll be with Bran and Robb again, and Old Nan and Hodor and the rest." She touched her on the arm.

"Hodor!" Sansa yelled. "You ought to marry Hodor, you're just like him, stupid and hairy and ugly!" She wrenched away from her sister's hand, stormed into her bedchamber, and barred the door behind her.

- Sansa III, AGOT

This is self-explanatory, really. Also, she apologises to Lady Smallwood for the torn dress.

Lady Smallwood gave her breeches, belt, and tunic to wear, and a brown doeskin jerkin dotted with iron studs. "They were my son's things," she said. "He died when he was seven."

"I'm sorry, my lady." Arya suddenly felt bad for her, and ashamed. "I'm sorry I tore the acorn dress too. It was pretty."

"Yes, child. And so are you. Be brave."

- Arya IV, ASOS

(Unimportant sidenote: I love how kind Lady Smallwood is to Arya here. She really needed this.)

Basically, Arya of House Stark is one of the most emotionally intelligent characters in ASOIAF and I will not hear otherwise.

[presidentbungus]

you wanna do a sniperspy snippet for me...for little ol me......?

always 🥺

ao3

Sniper's not a huge fan of the weather at this new base--they're somewhere in the Northern US, and he wasn't exactly bred for temperatures below twenty-five, but he finds it's worth braving the perpetual moistness for the new base itself.

It's a drab, rickety old building, just like the lot of them, except this time it's built out of rotting wood that someone puts a new hole in just by walking four times a week. But--but, it's an abandoned factory, aged out of utility for that purpose, and old buildings like this are full of nooks and crannies.

Sniper is some kind of burrowing animal at heart and small spaces have always been a favourite of his, so this is an arrangement that works out well for him. It's something besides sitting in his van playing jazz and thinking about his guns, even if it is sitting in a small dusty room in silence thinking about his guns—and no one really cares for exploring so it's usually a safe bet he'll be left alone.

Usually.

The good thing is that the stairs leading up to this particular room, fulla dusty tables with a nice look out into leaves and just about nothing else, act as a built-in intruder alarm with how creaky the stairs are. The bad news is that right now someone is thundering up those bloody stairs and he's in the middle of making great progress knitting himself a scarf.

It's not exactly Scout who he expects to see turn the corner--mostly because he's usually a lot quieter, has this tendency of sneaking up on people, and Sniper coulda sworn he just heard him calling points, or, laps or... is pitches a baseball thing? Somewhere outside.

But the little bugger is fast enough to make that plausible and more importantly looks like he wants something. "Hey... Snipes."

No harm in starting this off with a nice, round, "I'm busy."

"... Sunshine 'n rainbows," Scout mutters. Then he sees the knitting needles in Sniper's hands--a hideous smirk stretches across his face. "You fast-trackin' your grandma career already? Heh."

Scout brought a smell with him into the room. Something dark, and smoky, that settles itself in Sniper's chest. It's so intensely familiar but he can't quite place it. "What do you want?"

“What, is this weird? Something wrong, big guy?” And Scout gets a lot closer, wringing his hands together in a way he distinctly doesn’t do—

Metal flashes in Scout’s hand—Sniper grabs his wrist with unexpected ease and takes out his own blade, and his kukri glides into Scout’s stomach like a nice hot knife through butter. He lets out a high, pinched wheeze, though the lopsided grin keeps spreading across his face--as the shitty cotton crumpled under his fingers ripples into pinstripes, and the hand on his bicep morphs into smooth black leather.

"Maybe it'd do ya some bloody good to stop wearing that cologne," Sniper mutters. He steps away as much as he can with half his weapon sticking outta Spy--the closeness makes him dizzier than he'd like to admit, the smell of smoke and whiskey.

Spy just wordlessly clutches Sniper like any of this still hurts at this point in their jobs, and a thin line of blood starts trailing out between his teeth.

He already knew it, but the confirmation of it annoys him. "You wanted to get caught," Sniper says, grimly—through what would be a carefully-crafted facade of ambivalence to anyone else, but he knows Spy can look straight through him, read him like a bloody book, so he keeps on pushing the knife through his stomach until he can see the tip come out on the other side, glistening crimson.

Spy coughs for a little while before he seems to be able to work up the breath to respond. "You are not a very good host, are you?"

"Figure there's a bit of a difference between a guest and a bloody intruder, mate."

There's blood all over Sniper's shirt. Oh well. "The fact that you are yet to kill me indicates you are unsure where that line lies…” His eyes flick up teasingly. “Mon ami."

And the right thing to do after that, the professional thing to do, is to pull his kukri out and then shove it into Spy's face until he can't tell the difference between brain and gristle, but he still just keeps standing there with their faces way too close for comfort, frozen to his spot.

Spy notices his hesitation, of course he does. And somehow his smile keeps twitching wider, even as the rest of his face knits itself together with the effort of standing. "You seem to have made your decision."

"Do you have anything to do besides..." He doesn't want to find the word. "This?"

"Dinner," Spy says quickly. "Ah, picnics... weekends away..." He glances up at Sniper long enough to imply, and teasingly: "But no, nothing I can do alone."

"What about sitting here and bleeding out while I go find someone better to talk to?"

"But who is better to talk to," Spy gurgles, "than the man you spend all day on the battlefield ogling through your scope?"

He can't stop the blush from crawling across his face. "Not—ogling is a—I'm just doin' my job."

"And I am very much not doing mine. All I ask is one night." Then that hand shifts over to his chest, trails up to his neck.

"You have a motive you’re not giving here." They both know this isn't true. Sniper already knows he's going to leave this room having promised something he's not entirely sure about, but there's no point in dropping the charade just yet.

"Do you want me to beg, monsieur?" He must not respond quick enough, because he follows right away: "You have no perception of how dire the romantic prospects stand on my team, and you are, regrettably… so very handsome.” Smart fingers pass all the way up his cheek, dip just under the collar of his shirt, like there isn’t a knife in his stomach. “And I know there is something about me that attracts you, and you seem to be completely unwilling to cross the distance on your own, and I will refuse to continue standing for it." Spy pauses for a second to spit the blood out of his mouth and then turns back to Sniper and grins. "Kiss me."

That's the first thing he's said all day that actually makes sense. The next few seconds is a blur; thankfully there's enough blood in both of their mouths that covers up the fact that Sniper has no idea what he's doing and Spy very much does.

At some point Spy's legs buckle and he hits the floor with a loud thump--Sniper doesn't go with him, really takes him a couple of seconds of standing and blinking to figure out what just happened to him, and finally, finally, the image of Spy laying on the ground and choking on his own blood reminds Sniper that he is currently being paid to do a job.

The sound of him pulling his rifle off his back doesn't seem to perturb Spy at all; in fact, his smile still defies physics and finds room to grow, even as he writhes in the ground out of... what can't really be called pain anymore, but instinct.

With a gun-barrel resting on his forehead all Spy does is raise his hand and say: "I will see you on Friday. Shower."

All Sniper can find to say to that is "I shower," but that's muttered in the middle of the gunshot and at that point it's a losing fight. He knows Spy's just getting on his nerves. That's all the bugger does.

Arsehole didn't even bother to confirm that Sniper had any interest in seeing him, but... Sniper knows, with a heavy dose of shame, he probably implied the answer well enough on his own. Piss.

[thatnonameuser]

Hi, happy 20th birthday. I hope you spent your birthday in good company. And how will yandere react to darling, who has a disease called "Anhidrosis", and he does not feel pain in principle, because of which he acts recklessly and silently strives for death in the hope of feeling at least some pain. And when he finds the most painful way to die, he is sincerely happy. He studies the concept of pain and death and strives to feel it. And honestly says that he is ready to give his life just to feel at least something. (google translator)

Anhidrosis(lack of sweat)confused me for a second but that was Google Translate's fault.

A darling with anhydrosis. And wants nothing more than to experience it, and wants to die a painful death….

This is a half imagine because I'm probably adding another part to this. A smut one.

CW: Dead Dove: Do not Eat if you are triggered by self-harm, voluntary FGM(a mention nothing graphic) or suicide, don't read. I might be breaking my own rules but this idea was very interesting.

At age three you realized that you could never feel pain.

You'd badly skinned your knee, gained from a nasty slip and fall of the swing set, but after you'd fallen all you did was sit and stare at the blood dripping from your knee.

You remember poking it, and feeling only the warm blood stick to your skin, and nothing else. So you kept playing, not caring about the blood running down your legs.

It was only after someone noticed did you realize how bad your injury was. At first, everyone thought you just had a high pain tolerance, or were just being a brave kid. Which you wore with a badge of honor.

But when everyone can experience something you can't, you start to wonder.

What was it like? Would it be good or bad?

You had to find out.

So you started to get hurt on purpose. Jumping from higher ledges, ‘slipping’ down stairs, poking yourself with sewing needles and cutting yourself with scissors.

You did whatever you could to feel pain, but when you got cuts and bruises you didn't get any new feelings.There was no tears, or crying , or the need to complain about how much it hurt.

And you hated it. Every failed attempt drove you to do more harm to yourself, placing your palms into fire, riding bikes super fast without protective gear and crashing, provoking dogs so they would bite you, but..

You never felt pain. You couldn't feel pain.

At first, the people around you thought your acts of self harm were attention seeking, but after you purposely beat your arm with a hammer till your fingers went numb, you were forced to go to a doctor and you got diagnosed.

You were sick, yeah mentally, but physically you were unable to register pain no matter how hard you tried.

And that made you depressed knowing that this foreign sensation was barred from you forever. So you harmed even more. Cutting yourself with blunt knives, pressing hot irons to your skin,every twisted thought you could come up with.

But after your diagnosis, your life was spent being coddled. Knives and tools locked in drawers. The house you-proofed. Teachers and friends made to watch you constantly.

You could never get the opportunity to hurt yourself, and that made you want to die even more. All you wanted was to feel what pain was, and now you couldn't do that either. Your desperation to feed that addiction got worse and worse, it became all you thought about, finding that pain, that total, consuming, and endless pain.

You lost whatever survival instinct was stopping you, and you began to harm with intent to kill. To die. You researched your methods thoroughly, got thrown into a psych ward for your troubles. But regardless, you preserved, learning how to attack the spots that cause the most debilitating pain.

Still nothing.

But you kept pushing, kept planning. Scars cover you now. Everywhere in every place, even what would have been your most delicate and sensitive regions….thought they were hardly sensitive given your attempts.

All you wanted….was to die. Slowly, miserably and as painfully as possible

But then a wrench came into your plans, a carriage to a whole new world. You were a little excited to wake up in a place that was outside the laws of your normal boring society, one that worked completely different, on the jaws of what one person calls crazy, but hey, you weren’t any saner.

Where love is obsessive and smothering, and murder is allowed within Sage Island’s borders.

But you were a darling. And people like you don’t get to be seen as anything more than delicate. You managed to hide it the best you could, not wanting to repeat a life of over-protection and smothering, bu you got caught.

It was an accident really, you forgot to lock the door to your bathroom, and Ace and Deuce found you while looking for you. You were halfway through your bi-weekly cutting when they found you.

They freaked out and the rumors flew fast. Soon everyone knew.

And they all freaked out.

Spells of protection to keep you from hurting yourself, potions keeping you too sedated to think straight. Malleus even put you into a dream world again to prevent you from harming and killing yourself, but you still tried in your dreams.

You started to hate them.

They were no better than the people back home like you were a porcelain doll on a shelf. If you were a doll, you wanted to shatter into pieces so small that you could never be put back together. Wouldn’t that be nice, being broken so badly and so painfully living would be impossible. But they would just lock you up in a padded cell and leave you there to ‘love’ you.

You only wanted ‘love’ if it was torture. Agony. A pain to breathe and to exist where a painful death is the happily ever after.

But two of them loved you the way you wanted, like you were something to break.

The Leech Twins.

The way they loved you was torture. And you loved it.

Floyd, the outwardly violent one, had squeezed you so tightly before that he broke your ribs. You loved watching him attack other students and the bloody messes that would be left when he was done excited you. You treasured the messy, jagged bites he’d give, grateful that he wouldn’t treat you like you were precious. You loved him angry, and the way he hurt you when he was.

And then there was Jade. If Floyd was violent, Jade was completely sadistic. And you loved that too. The complete nonchalance and calm that he’d normally show, mixing with the mirth in his eyes when he poisoned you and watched what it did to you. You didn’t feel anything new, but the way you writhed made you feel the closest to that sensation that you’d craved all your life.

Those two were capable of destroying you and in the Coral Sea they could get away with it.

You would despise being controlled and coddled by the others, but you’d love being finally breaking past that barrier to pain with one, or both you’re not picky, of those two. After all, they were the only ones that could do it.

Besides, life and love weren't a fairy tale. It's ending is death. For you, and it's a happy, painful one.

[amazinglyegg]

Paladin Danse headcanons because I love this little dude

Doesn't like being talked about behind his back, even if they're saying positive things about him. If he's talking about someone not in the room he's bringing up the things he said in that conversation next time he sees them because he thinks they deserve to hear the praise/critique.

Never really looks at the little things in life. The smell of brewing coffee, the way the sun rises over the trees, the calming ambient chatter of a shared living space... it all goes unnoticed by him. He finds himself thinking about the future constantly, and it takes someone who consciously points it all out to him for him to learn to live in the present more.

LOVES learning, although that passion dies down a bit while he's in the Brotherhood, partially due to grief/trauma and partially due to the Brotherhood indirectly teaching soldiers that outsiders are bad and the Brotherhood is always right. His love gets rekindled when he joins the Minutemen.

Doesn't really believe he has PTSD and pushes away medical help because he sort of feels offended that he was diagnosed despite his skepticism. The type of person to think "I don't have PTSD because I don't have any flashbacks, I just have nightmares and intrusive thoughts and sometimes I feel the same overwhelming emotions I felt when the trauma happened... but none of those are flashbacks!" (spoiler alert, man, not all flashbacks look like they do in movies).

Touch starved but not in the "cute clingy boyfriend" way. More like the "cringing away from touch because it's physically painful" way. He hasn't gotten any sort of physical contact in SO LONG and it's seriously fucking with him.

I was going to make a separate post about this but this man would fucking LOVE laser tag. He would be IN HIS ELEMENT. He would be THRIVING. Let this guy play a game of laser tag with some other soldiers please it would be great enrichment for him.

Strangely passionate about socks. Yes, socks. Do you have any idea how GOOD high quality socks feel?? If you complain about any sort of foot pain he has sock brand recommendations for you. He's the sock equivalent of "It's 'cause you're always on that damn phone" that parents use. "Danse my head hurts" "It's because you didn't get the socks I recommended to you" "????"

Will drink as a social activity, but mostly drinks alone. Also a sad drunk.

Would love any and all fidget toys he gets his hands on. Probably refuses to use them because most of them are colorful and "toys", but if you manage to sneak a fidget cube or a tangle in his hands while he's sitting around? That bitch will be used non-stop until he leaves it somewhere and forgets about it. Will probably adjust whatever action he's doing so he can keep one hand free to keep fidgeting.

Doesn't like anything that sticks to his hands or makes a mess on surfaces, like slime, putty, paint, mud, etc. If you hand him slime he will touch it once and then leave to go wash his hands.

Sleeps hot, probably without a blanket often because he overheats. Tosses and turns a lot. Does that thing where he can sleep through basically anything but the second you try to tiptoe past him he will shoot awake.

Keeps Cutler's and Krieg's dog tags in his bedside drawer. Doesn't do so with anyone else's, not because he doesn't care about any of his other teammates who died, but because he knows if he let himself keep doing that the drawer would get filled way too quickly. That realization was at about the same time he "toughened up" a lot more and fell into the commanding officer mindset he's still in today.

Doesn't like needles. He'll get shots and whatever if he needs to, obviously, but unlike most other undesirable things he'll actually complain about it a bit instead of acting like the tough guy. Probably looks away whenever he needs to get stitches.

Eats a ton of food, not so much water. Will absolutely demolish several servings of pasta and then complain of a dehydration headache, completely unaware that the last time he drank water was 7 hours ago.

Likes training new recruits, makes him a bit nostalgic for the old days with him and Cutler. Tends to be a bit soft with the ones that really remind him of Cutler, but in the type of way where he pulls them aside just to say "You did really well today :)" completely oblivious that the poor initiate assumed they were going to get reprimanded and are now having a mini panic attack.

[paradoxcase]

Chapter 25 of Nona the Ninth

So this chapter has a broken Gideon skull, which in this book seems to mean people being deceitful, and something is definitely up because Gideon is like 2-3 times as much Gideon as she normally is in this chapter, and I don't think that's an impression I only have because I've recently been through 3/4 of book full of Nona POV

Throughout this chapter, Gideon is referred to as "the corpse" or "the corpse prince" frequently, and I just feel like I should point out that we've gotten to the point where there are actually two different walking and talking corpses in this scene and both of them could plausibly be referred to as a prince. Even though Naberius's body is not currently being controlled by Ianthe, Naberius himself was a prince before he died

Hmm

That's all the definitions, I think Gideon just made this one up. Also, it's not a good day when you learn a new ethnic slur from the dictionary

Pyrrha acts like Gideon said "yes" here, but she didn't. That's like, a combination of "yes" and "nope"

It's hilarious, and I think actually accurate, that she's still terrified of the needle even though she is literally immune to needles now

"Judith Deuteros for some reason" really just sums up Judith's whole role in this story, doesn't it? It also would make a great blog title for a Judith fanblog, someone should get on that

Poor Judith! It's been a hot minute since Judith actually said something in a language that someone other than Nona can understand, so I really do hope it still is Judith in her body, and not someone or something else in there now

Right, so this could potentially mean:

The whole time since she impaled herself on the fence (unlikely since Gideon was stealth-narrating the entirety of Harrow the Ninth)

The whole time since Pyrrha and Nona met up with BOE at the end of Harrow the Ninth (since BOE had Gideon's body at that point, I think it's entirely possible that Gideon's soul transferred back into it from Harrow's body when she came into its proximity)

The whole time since John reacquired Gideon's body and made his modifications to it, and possibly also brought Gideon's soul back to it at that point

She could also just mean "the whole time I've been in New Rho" or "the whole time you've been in the barracks" but obviously she's been awake for longer than that since she was around to receive medals and stuff from John

Wiktionary says a "rusk" is a "weaning food for children" but doesn't give any kind of information on what specific food it is, or if it's just a general word for that kind of food

So Ianthe can "shut her off" somehow. I'm not sure if I buy that it was Gideon's idea to come here. I don't think she likes Ianthe, I don't think she would have thought New Rho would be a fun place to be, and even if she actually wanted to go to Ninth House like she says later I don't think she could have predicted that she'd be in a position for that to happen here and there are much easier and more straightforward ways for her to get to the Ninth House if she'd stayed with John

An interesting question is whether or not she would have won a fight with Ianthe's entropy field. I tend to think not, because a literal bar of metal didn't survive the entropy field, and even though she has some, like, I guess artificial preservation from being John's daughter she wasn't immune to direct physical damage because of that and even John himself wasn't immune to being taken apart into bits by Mercy, and since Mercy made the OG entropy field I'm sure it probably works using the same principle as whatever she did to John. Gideon may still survive the entropy field somehow, but if the entropy field was still functional it would actually be a great way for Palamedes to get a blood sample from her for Tomb-opening purposes, and so I think John would be extremely against having any such thing anywhere near Gideon's body. So I'm sticking with my theory that this was Ianthe's idea. She intentionally showed Gideon's body during the broadcast, she did that on purpose, although I guess if Gideon was "turned off" during that time she might not know that

Man, thanks for nothing, Gideon

Significant things that happened in the River at the end of the last book:

G1deon and a bunch of ghosts scared Number Seven off and it went to New Rho

Augustine was eaten by the Stoma

Harrow's and Palamedes' River bubbles ceased to exist

The Mithraeum was submerged in the River and sank very far down, unknown currently if John and Ianthe managed to save it

I can't think of why any of these things would make it safe for non-Lyctors to travel safely through the River. The ghosts all make themselves scarce around resurrection beasts, but I'm sure Ianthe and Gideon's journey didn't start out in the presence of a resurrection beast and I don't think the ghosts are the reason why River travel is dangerous for non-Lyctors

Blatant lies, lmao

She's so bad at lying, she starts off with "I don't want anything anymore" and finishes with "I want to go to the Ninth House because I have unfinished business there", and I suspect both of those things are at least partly lies. But I think she's right that John would probably give her a medal for killing this collection of people at this point, including Corona I think

But I suspect that she is the one who wants to go back to the Ninth House, for some undisclosed reason, and she's not acting on John or Ianthe's wishes here. If John wanted her to go back to the Ninth House she would already be there yesterday. If Ianthe wanted her to go there, I don't think she would have put up that entropy field, and she might even have tried to do some deal with BOE where she exchanged Gideon for the Sixth House. Also, I don't think Ianthe actually gives a shit about the Ninth House or anything that happened there. And there's no one else left in John's circuit at this point

Man, when Pyrrha said she was heavy, I just thought it was because she was tall and full of muscle. How damn strong is Pyrrha, exactly?

No, hold on, let me math this

A normal adult human has 11 kg of bones. Cortical bone makes up 80% of bone mass and has an average density of 1908 kg/m3, and cancellus bone makes up 20% and has an average density of 1178 kg/m3, so that is an average density of 1762 kg/m3 over all. There are 1,000,000 cm3 in 1 m3, so 11 kg / 1762 kg/m3 * 1,000,000 cm3/m3 is 6,242.9 cm3 of bone. Titanium has a density of 4.506 g/cm3. 6,242.9 cm3 * 4.506 g/cm3 is 28,130.5 g or a little over 28 kg. Since bones usually weigh 11 kg, that's only 17 extra kg of bone, so she only actually weighs about 37 and a half more pounds than usual. She says "titanium plex", which is not a real thing, but I can't imagine that titanium plex would actually be more dense than titanium, so I think it checks out that she would just be somewhat heavier than expected and not ridiculously heavy or something like that

That's a great question that I'd love to see answered. Is the fence also going to turn out to be some kind of holy object infused with a power even higher than John?

Speaking of holes, I remember back a long time ago I reblogged that one poll that mentioned stigmata sex, and people assured me that while the stigmata were actually in the book, the stigmata sex was not. Are Gideon's holes the stigmata? Does that count as stigmata? I think it's in the wrong place, isn't it?

So, thanergy is cell death, but it seems like dead bodies radiate thanergy even if no cell death is occurring, because John's cryo bodies were generating thanergy for him even after he'd completely stopped them from rotting. So Gideon's body is somehow preserved due to being related to John, but in a way that doesn't involve being infused with thalergy as she suggests for the blood sample, because as we know from the last chapter, body + soul + thalergy = living person, and Gideon isn't a living person, so she must be missing one of those, and it's not her body or her soul. The preservation only applies to the bounds of her body, and her body is still radiating thanergy, apparently enough that it would kill the blood sample?

She got her whole childhood fantasy of a famous and powerful parent who gave her everything she wanted, but that person turned out to be John, and now she's stuck with him and Ianthe and being used as figurehead for John's military, and he spent just enough effort on her to make sure that her body can't be used against him but didn't fix the gaping holes in her chest, and the person she sacrificed herself for is missing and possibly dead, and someone else is in her body instead

I mean, Ianthe was keeping her locked up behind the entropy field. I wonder if she's had a lot of that from John, too

[maximilliansblog]

How to build your first fursuit head for ~$100 USD (2023)

What’s good furries? I’m sure a lot of you have a fursona and want to make your first fursuit. I recommend starting with a partial just in case you mess up or fall out of the hobby. It’s also less expensive!

This tutorial will only cover the head. I haven’t made any of the other stuff and I’m probably going to buy it online premade because I’m lazy.

1.) Have a reference sheet for your fursona.

If you are an artist, draw (the best you can) a reference sheet of your fursona from the front, side, and back. I made a little turnaround animation for mine, but this is not necessary.

Not an artist? Don’t want to draw? Commission someone to do it for you. I recommend Etsy, but you can find furry artists with open commissions all over the internet.

No money for commissions? You might be out of luck. Ask a friend or draw it the best you can. Alternatively, you can edit someone else’s fursona reference sheet to make it look like your fursona. Yeah, it’s stealing. Just don’t post it and act like it’s yours 👍

You can also go into the Roblox game, Catalogue Avatar Creator, and assemble something that looks kind of like your fursona. Take a screenshot of it from the front, side, and back, then go into a photo editor (I recommend IbisPaint or MediBang Paint, they are both free) and add in your special details.

I recommend not making your first fursuit super complicated or some kind of rare species. But you do you. It will just be really hard.

Also determine what style of fursuit you want. Toony? Kemono? Realistic? (I don’t recommend realistic for your first fursuit but you do you). This will be important later.

2.) Find Shit to Build It With

Once again, I recommend Etsy. You’ll need:

+ all the fur colors you need (try 2-3)

+ eye mesh

+ 3D printed mask

+ hot glue gun and hot glue sticks (dollar store)

+ needle and thread (dollar store or Walmart)

+ balaclava

+ styrofoam head

+ fabric scissors

+ extra foam pieces for ears or horns

Assemble all of that. It should be around $80-120 USD.

Your 3D printed mask is the most important thing. Another reason to get a relatively common species. Mine was a dragon. Remember the fursuit style you picked earlier? Search on etsy “3d printed [style] [species] furry mask” and you should be able to find one. You can also get pre-made foam heads. I don’t recommend trying to make your own head base, because A) it’s hard and B) those materials cost more money.

This shit will take a while to come in so don’t get too excited about it. My mask took like a month because it came from Germany.

3.) Mark the Color Spots on your Head Base

Basically just take a sharpie and outline the different color regions on your headbase. You can also use a pencil if you’re a pussy /j

4.) Uhhhh Eyeball That Fabric Pattern and Hot Glue the Pieces to Your Headbase

Some people use duct tape to make a pattern. That did not work for me! So I eyeballed it. Made some mistakes. That’s okay.

5.) Trim Down the Fur Length

Most people use clippers for this but I didn’t want to buy any and I didn’t know how to use them so I did it VERY CAREFULLY with scissors.

6.) Fill in the Cracks Between Your Hot Glue Seams With Loose Fur

Look at all this damn fur on the floor! If only there was something to do with it!

Put hot glue between the super visible seams where you hotglued different pieces of fabric next to each other, then pack in some of that loose fur. Cut it down if it’s too long. The seams will be less visible.

7.) Hot Glue the Eye Mesh Behind the Eye Holes

VERY CAREFULLY hot glue this so your character isn’t cross-eyed. You can try follow-me eyes but I didn’t do that with mine.

8.) Add Your Extra Details

You know like whiskers or plastic teeth or a tongue or anything else you want to put on there.

Now you’re done with the mask part.

9.) CAREFULLY Hot Glue Your Balaclava to the Inside of the Mask

The eye hole should be where your eye mesh is so that you can see out. Also make sure some of the balaclava is glued to the top of the mask.

10.) Weigh Down Your Styrofoam Head With a Heavy Rock

Or put it on a stand. Or hot glue it to the table. Whatever works.

11.) Put the Balaclava that you Glued to the Mask on the Styrofoam Head

Pretty simple. The reason we weighed down the styrofoam head is because the front of your mask will be heavy and make it fall over while you’re trying to work.

12.) ????? Put Fur On the Balaclava

You’ll also need to like add some fur connecting the sides of the mask to the balaclava. Hard to explain. You’ll probably figure it out?

13.) Trim that Fur and Put the Trimmings in the Seams Like Before

14.) Take it off of the Styrofoam Head

You may need to cut a slit in the back of the neck of your fursuit head. Not only will it help get the styrofoam head out, now your head can get in and out too!

15.) Put it on

Edit it if something is wrong. It might feel crooked but it’s probably not.

16.) Enjoy!

Hopefully this was helpful! This is how made mine.

[lago-morpha]

the hyperspecific polls are never hyperspecific and it pisses me off so here's mine. going for obscure yet still reasonable

before I get any annoying comments being against theistic beliefs and converting to judaism is entirely possible! antitheism simply means you oppose the belief of an actual theistic diety, and 50% of reform jews are at least not sure if they believe in gd let alone humanistic jews.

[wishing-stones]

do you have any general headcanons for baggs?

Prefacing this with: if you want to know more about him, go to his creator and the blog for he and his au Here

I have loads.

It's difficult to pin down stuff that hasn't been mentioned, or that involves parts of the lore/story for Megalosomnia that haven't been revealed yet. So, while I have tons of headcanons about the story and/or other things that might be spoilery, I'll narrow it down to one for that:

-He created Flowey, being the Royal Scientist, and keeps him in a terrarium. It's been stated that he's not really around when the human/Frisk falls, and when you take that clever mind and the latent almost meta-level observation skills of Sans in general into account, you get someone who is unwilling to let his experiments just sit around in pots on a countertop. They were all in their own tanks, and when Flowey woke up, he was stuck in a glass (or plexiglass) cage with no real way out. It's since been expanded, so he isn't in a cramped little box, but he's down in the true lab with no way out. And, predictably, he hates this. He can still save, load, and reset, but... it doesn't do him much good when he's stuck in a tank. They get catty at one another, Flowey tries his best to needle Baggs into making the mistake of opening his tank for even a fraction of a second, but it never works in his favor. The tank is climate-controlled and everything in it is automated with no chance of escape. He's pretty well taken care of, at least.

This is the biggest headcanon I have for MS/Baggs in general. I might be close to canon, I might be way off. But... It makes sense for him to keep the one person he can't control under careful lock and key, doubly so when they can save and reset. All he has to do is get out of that tank once, and everything Baggs has built will come crashing down around him. It's a risk he absolutely cannot afford to take.

But, by the same stroke, Baggs knows who Flowey is, so it would be mutually assured destruction.

Other miscellaneous headcanons include:

-He's not as much of a hard ass as he comes off as, sometimes. I just don't get the chance to write him when he's not preoccupied with something else very often. Dumbassery comes with the territory of being a Sans, though, so he has the capacity for some spectacular feats of goofiness. If someone sees this, he doesn't even bother to remedy it-- he just smiles and more or less says "No one will believe you." (Also, most of what he's been present for when I write him is either a. his job or b. being very guarded around the others. He's starting to show otherwise, though.) -He is a lot more compassionate than he might come off as. While he keeps an air of professionalism about him, if he likes the people he's taking care of or looking after, he's accommodating and thoughtful. He's gentle with the flighty and conciliatory with the upset. His friends and family immediately fall into this category, and you can tell you're in good with him if it starts to feel more intrapersonal-- if he talks about himself at all. -It's known he likes Hot Pockets and Sushi, but in the same vein, he likes bagel bites, pizza rolls, anything else that is pizza-like and thrown in the microwave or oven. It's fast, it's absolutely awful for you, and it's greasy. He similarly likes other similar garbage-tier frozen microwave food, but the pizza-flavored ones are his favorite. He also likes mozzarella sticks. -He likes soaps. There's several he's partial to-- awful human programs that have fallen into Waterfall-- but they're good for background noise. They're terrible, he knows they're terrible, but they're entertaining for the sheer ridiculousness of it all, and no he is not invested in the secret romance, how dare you insinuate otherwise. -He has those glasses he wears around General, but they also come out if he needs to look disarming or have someone trust him a little more or if he wants to make a statement in the company of those who know what he's capable of that he's a complete non-issue right now and off the (proverbial) clock. He doesn't really need them. -He can sew! This is a bit of a necessity, since his (very cool custom) lab coat occasionally takes damage. He has more than one, but if you look very close, you can see just little peeks of fine white thread from a ladder stitch. -And, last but not least the goddamn heelys. They, I think, have been bounced around a bit and displayed in at least one piece of fanart. It's hilarious to me because while he's studious and hard-working, he's still a Sans, and you can never truly rid a Sans of all of his laziness in all areas. Coupled with the fact that he burns the candle at both ends, it makes sense to be able to roll from place to place rather than walking-- or better yet, have someone walk for him. Almost everyone in the lab is used to him catching rides on the back of their coats and just go along with it. It's just something the doctor does, so you get used to it fast if you work with him.

I've been rotating him and his au like a rotisserie chicken since I discovered them, so I've had a lot of time to sit and think about these. He lives in my head rent free so he may as well earn his keep by providing inspiration. Little turd.

[herbs-and-poultices]

A tiny re-written snippet for my OCs from forever ago, Part 1. (As usual for me, this seemingly simple scene is going to require multiple mini-installments, because I write veeery slowly and perpetually underestimate the length of things)

Scene summary: Aftermath of a not-fun encounter with a half-starved mountain lion in the middle of nowhere. 

Story summary: The Fire is dying, and someone must make the long and perilous journey through the mountains to the Place Where Worlds Meet, to receive the gift of Fire anew and bring it back to their people. It is the dead of winter, after a scarce year. The village, already ravaged by hunger and sickness, tries to strike a delicate balance between who can succeed and who they can spare. The chosen ones: childhood friends Raven and Sky. During the month-long trek there and back they face all manner of acute environmental perils, along with the ever-present threats of cold, hunger, and fatigue.

Important Notes:

Character ages: Somewhere between adolescence and young adulthood. They will both officially come of age in the spring, but I haven’t yet decided exactly what that age is in their society. Uncomfy? Don’t read.

Medical stuff: Going for hurt/comfort vibes rather than any sort of accuracy. Stickler? Don’t read.

Content Warnings: Blood and injury. I think that’s it.

Unimportant Note on writing conventions: Although present me has developed a preference for 3rd-person narration, I am sticking with younger me’s original 1st-person narration for now. It does make the pronouns easier, if nothing else.

“Sky?” Though it came out as a hoarse whisper, my voice sounded unnaturally loud in my ears, much like the rapid pounding of my heartbeat. A breath of wind through the hemlock needles was the only reply as I turned back towards him. “Sky!” 

He lay still, as he had fallen, thrown on his back with his limbs askew. The tilt of his head left his throat bare above the clasp of his cloak. A shiver ran up my spine, and my hand found its way unbidden to the back of my neck, where the bite of the mountain cat’s powerful jaws would have killed me instantly. Stunned, unconscious, dead, in the wavering moon-shadows I couldn’t discern.

I stumbled across the clearing. The uneven snow and the giddiness which follows a rush of fear-fueled strength made me unsteady on my feet. Pain which had been temporarily overwhelmed by the need to focus purely on survival pushed its way to the fore, blazing hot down my shoulder blade and back ribs. My back tightened with the jolt of each step, pulling at the raw seams of skin. A few times I nearly lost my balance; the reflexive jerk of my arms sent the muscles all across my back into spasms that tore deeper into the gashes of open flesh and I cried out, sparks dancing around the edges of my vision. 

When I drew within a few paces, I could hear the rasp of labored breathing, and I saw his eyelids flutter open and then squeeze tightly shut again, furrowing his brow. 

“Sky,” I breathed, torn between relief and a fresh wave of panic. “Are you…” I started out of habit, but the words dried in my mouth. What was there to ask? I had seen the creature’s curved claws gleaming white and chokeberry-red with the light of the full moon rising through the trees, each one sharp as a newly-honed knife; I had seen the spray of hot blood as they found their mark. The snow all through the clearing was churned up and stained black with it, and more showed in dark blotches on his torn cloak and tunic. I couldn’t tell, by the mottled gray light , how much of it was his - I and our assailant had both left our share. But I could smell it still welling up hot and fresh, a scent equal parts cloying and acrid that clung thickly to the back of my throat as I sank down at his side.

He acknowledged my presence with a tip of his head, eyes clear under half-raised lashes, but chose not to reply. I was grateful, in a way - words would have made it all even more real than it already was.

[msmargaretmurry]

"when summer" - Quinn/Brady

this is a futurefic. are u surprised.

technically, it is a futurefic spin on the new classic genre of "hughes bros lakehouse shenanigans." it is set like a decade in the future. brady and quinn are still close, they still call each other best friends, but they have had these whole adult lives mostly apart from each other: brady captaining ottawa into a force to be reckoned with in the east; quinn captaining vancouver to more middling success in the west. (quinn still isn't sure if staying was the right decision — he still gets jealous, sometimes, of jack and luke together in new jersey, without him — but he mostly doesn't regret it. he stayed and accepted the c because he wasn't sure he trusted anyone else to look after his teammates the way they should be looked after, and he still feels that way, even as age has started to wear him down.) brady got married. (quinn was there, obviously.) brady had a kid. (quinn mostly knows the kid through facetime.) brady got divorced. (quinn wasn't there, and it was several years ago now, but he still feels guilty for not being there.) the once-daily texting and weekly facetimes have long since become more sporadic; they get dinner every time they play each other, hang out when they're at nhl events together, but it's a rare occasion that they see each other away from hockey. it's been a few years since that happened at this point.

and then jack and quinn decide to sell the lakehouse. for non-dramatic reasons that i don't feel like figuring out; maybe they just found a place they like better, and something something property values, whatever. but they're selling. it's kind of bittersweet — they grew up in that house almost as much as they grew up in their parents' house, in a way, spending the past ten summers there as they turned from kids who thought they were so grown up into real adults. brady gets his kid for most of the summer, since he's so busy during the season, and he's telling quinn on the phone about how stir-crazy he's gonna go for the two weeks his ex-wife has the kid in early august, so quinn says, hey, why don't you come up here? help me pack, say goodbye to the lakehouse with me. i'll put you to work, keep you distracted.

ten years, and brady's never actually made it out to the lakehouse before. it feels weird, having a place in quinn's life that brady hasn't touched, but then it also feels weird when he gets there. he's out of place. quinn can't figure out why. they're still the same as they ever were, laughing and bickering and needling each other, wrestling over the tv remote, falling into companionable silences. but it's different. quinn can't put his finger on what.

it's a particularly hot summer that year. the humidity is thick, heavy. heavier than it's been in all of quinn's michigan summers. brady helps him sort through all the junk that's accumulated in the garage — keep, donate, toss — his t-shirt sticking to him in dark, sweaty patches. quinn has spent half his life not looking, and he shouldn't start now.

quinn never did settle down. well. he hates putting it like that; he feels plenty settled. he never found a partner. never committed to a long-term romantic relationship. he doesn't think there's anything particularly sad about it, like some people seem to. he has all the things that are most important to him. packing up the house with brady, though, he gets a little lost imagining that this is almost what it would feel like. someone with him doing the quiet, annoying, domestic tasks that it takes to keep life moving along. it's not the first time he's put thought he'd like to have brady like that, but it is the first time in years. he's spent the last decade not thinking that, and he shouldn't start again now.

except it's brady who kisses him, sitting out on the dock at sunset, two beers in, their feet dangling above the water. it's romantic as hell, except then brady sticks a hand down quinn's shorts, which is not romantic, but quinn's not complaining. he doesn't really care about romance anyway. they spend a lot of the rest of the time they should be packing having sex all over the lakehouse, and quinn keeps thinking maybe it's a good thing they're selling the place, so when he and brady snap out of this weird hot summer daze, he won't have to relive it every off-season.

but they are adults now, so instead of leaving things hanging and hurting each other, they actually do have the long hard conversation about what brady wants and what quinn wants and how they can fit those things into their lives, with teams on opposite sides of the continent, with a kid involved, with such different needs when it comes to relationships like this. but they'll figure it out.

[pearlescent-soda]

☠️🐲//Elder Dragon Fear Headcanons

These are headcanons that go over what I believe the Elder Dragons biggest fears are without going into much detail. These are based off my previous headcanons about them, their clans, and their professions, and may seem OOC (Out of Character) to many, but it was fun to write nonetheless.

TW: Mentions of Fear, Mentions of Blood, Mentions of Death, Mentions of Violence, etc.

🎨Artisans:

Alban: Nothing

Alvar: Ophidiophobia, Fear of snakes

Argus: Agrizoophobia, Fear of wild animals

Astor: Cardiophobia, Fear of the heart (palpatations, pains, etc.)

Darius: Psellismophobia, Fear of stuttering

Delbin: Dentophobia, Fear of dentists

Devlin: Ataxophobia, Fear of disorder or untidiness

Gavin: Thermophobia, Fear of intolerance to hot temperatures

Gildas: Potophobia, Fear of drinking alcohol

Lindar: Apeirophobia, Fear of infinity, eternity, or the uncountable

Nestor: Asymmetriphobia, Fear of asymmetrical things

Nevin: Rhytiphobia, Fear of getting wrinkles

Nils: Anemophobia, Fear of wind or drafts

Oswin: Chiroptophobia, Fear of bats

Thor: Nothing

Tomas: Phasmophobia, Fear of ghosts

🛡️Peace Keepers:

Andor: Nothing

Asher: Ankylophobia, Fear of immobility of a joint

Boris: Iophobia, Fear of poison

Conan: Gamophobia, Fear of marriage

Enzo: Coulrophobia, Fear of clowns

Gunnar: Scotomaphobia. Fear of blindness, or spots in one's visual field

Halvor: Nothing

Ivor: Iatrophobia, Fear of doctors

Magnus: Kinemortophobia, Fear of zombies

Marco: Enochlophobia, Fear of crowds

Maximos: Ophidiophobia, Fear of snakes

Ragnar: Necrophobia, Fear of death or dead bodies

Titan: Soteriophobia, Fear of depending or becoming dependent on someone else

Todor: Agoraphobia, Fear of open places rather than enclosed

Trondo: Nostophobia, Fear of returning home

Ulric: Gelotophobia, Fear of being laughed at

✨️Magic Crafters:

Ajax: Arachnophobia, Fear of spiders

Altair: Nothing

Boldar: Anatidaephobia, Fear of ducks, geese or swans

Cedric: Scotomaphobia, Fear of blindness

Cosmos: Metathesiophobia, Fear of changes

Cyrus: Nothing

Eldrid: Musophobia, Fear of mice and rats

Hexus: Daemonophobia, Fear of demons

Jarvis: Bibliophobia, Fear or Hatred of books

Kelvin: Harpaxophobia, Fear of being robbed

Lucas: Mazeophobia, Fear of being lost

Zander: Maniaphobia, Fear of insanity

Zane: Teraphobia, Fear of monsters 

Zantor: Athazagoraphobia, Fear of being forgotten

🌺Beast Makers:

Bruno: Ecophobia, Fear of cataclysmic environmental change

Bubba: Isolophobia, Fear of solitude

Claude: Antlophobia, Fear of flooding,

Cleetus: Ablutophobia, Fear of bathing

Cyprin: Ptophobia, Fear of falling

Damon: Nothing

Isaak: Claustrophobia, Fear of confined spaces

Jed: Kynophobia, Fear of rabies

Lyle: Belonephobia, Fear of pins and needles

Rosco: Batrachophobia, Fear of amphibians

(Bonus) Red: Thanatophobia, Fear of death

Sadiki: Dystychiphobia, Fear of accidents

Zeke: Nothing

🌌Dream Weavers:

Apara: Claustrophobia, Fear of having no escape and being closed in

Azizi: Ligyrophobia, Fear of loud noises

Bakari: Arachibutyrophobia, Fear of peanut butter sticking to the roof of one's mouth

Baruti: Quadraphobia, Fear of the number four

Copano: Bogyphobia, Fear of bogeys or bogeymen

Kasiya: Symmetrophobia, Fear of symmetry

Kosoko: Pediculophobia, Fear of lice

Lateef: Nothing

Lutalo: Scelerophibia, Fear of burglars, robbers, or criminals

Mazi: Nothing

Mudada: Bathophobia, Fear of depth

Obasi: Haphephobia, Fear of touch

Revilo: Pyrophobia, Fear of fire

Unika: Nihilophobia, Fear of nothingness

Useni: Melissophobia, Fear of bees

Zikomo: Astraphobia, Fear of thunder and lightning

Image Sources: [x] [x] [x] [x] [x] Dividers by @baka-tsuki-2

[artzychic27]

Thought I’d get in on this incorrect quotes thing, if this hasn’t been done, science and akuma classes with FRIENDS quotes? I feel like there’s a ton of potential for hilarity there!

Jean: All right now remember, something this big and long is gonna be very difficult to maneuver. Fortunately I have a lot of experience in that area.

Ismael: What are you, five today? Can we please focus here? A naked man's life hangs in the balance!

Lacey: I'm telling you he's dead. What we are about to have here is a dead naked fat guy on a stick!

Simon: Alright, guys. Let's poke.

*They start to advance the giant poking device*

Simon: Steady… Steady… Okay, a little higher. Careful of the angle. Okay, okay, we're approaching the window. *As he says this, the poking device goes through the window* Thread the needle. Thread the needle!

*They start poking him. He then moves*

Zoé: He's alive! He's alive!

Reshma: And yet, we are still poking him.

*Ugly Naked Guy notices them*

Simon: Okay, retract the device. Retract the device!

*They start pulling the poking device back*

Mireille: He does not look happy.

Marc: Hey, hey! Now he's showing us his poking device!

Cosette: Hey, that's never gonna make it all the way over here, buddy!

—

Kim: What are you still doing here? I thought you guys took off.

Adrien: Oh, no, he took off. With my clothes!

Kim: … Are you nude in there?

Adrien: Not exactly… I’m wearing panties.

Kim: … Do you always wear panties?

Adrien: No, no. This is the first time.

Kim: Wow. Talk about your bad luck. I mean, the first time you try panties, and someone walks off with you clothes.

Adrien: *Pokes his head out of the stall* I was not trying them out. Luka asked me to wear them.

Kim: Well, Lemme see!

Adrien: No! I’m not letting you or anyone else see! Ever! *Shuts the door*

Kim: … Okay. *He heads into the next stall over, stands on top of the toilet, and peers into Adrien’s stall* Whoa! Nice frills.

*Nathaniel walks in. It takes him a few seconds to notice Kim*

Nathaniel: Kim… Some people don’t like that.

Kim: Adrien’s wearing panties.

Nathaniel: What? Lemme see! *He heads into the other stall next to Adrien and stands in the toilet to look*

Adrien: No!

Nathaniel: Nice tush.

Adrien: Alright! One of you give me your underpants!

Kim: Can’t help you. I’m not wearing any.

Adrien: How can you not be wearing any underwear?

Kim: Oh. I’m getting heat from the guy in the hot pink panties.

Adrien: Alright, Nath! *Ismael suddenly walks in* I’ll give you fifty euros for your underpants!

*They notice Ismael*

Adrien/Kim/Nathaniel: Hey. *Then do a double take*

Ismael: … I saw nothing. *Backs out of the room*

—

Juleka: *Strumming her bass* Smelly cat. Smelly cat what are they feeding you? Smelly cat~ Smelly cat~ It’s not your fault.

—

Kim: *Wearing all of Ivan’s clothes* Look at me! I’m Ivan! Could I be wearing any more clothes? Maybe if I wasn’t going commando~

Ivan: Whay?!

Kim: Yeah. I’ll tell ya, it’s hot with all this stuff on. I better not do any, I don’t know… Lunges! *Starts doing lunges*

—

Marinette: Okay! You ready?! *She leaves for a second, then comes back with a hairless cat*

Akuma Class: …

Alya: Oh my God-

Alix: What the hell is that?

Marinette: It’s a cat

Alix: That is not a cat!

Marinette: Yes it is!

Nino: Why is it inside out?

—

*Juleka and Nathaniel are walking, only for Max to jump in front of them*

Max: DANGER! DANGER!

Juleka/Nathaniel: *Screaming*

Nathaniel: What the hell was that?

Max: A lesson in the important of unagi.

Juleka: You’re a freak!

Max: Perhaps. Now I’m curious. At what point during those girlish screams would you have begun to kick my ass?

Nathaniel: Alright, so we weren’t prepared.

*Later*

Juleka/Nathaniel: *Pop out from under Max’s desk* DANGER!

Max: *High pitched screaming*

—

Nino: Adrien, check it out! *Presents six tickets* Hockey game tonight at the ice rink and we’re taking you.

Kim: Haply birthday, pal!

Nino: We love you, man. *Kisses Adrien*