#without bleeding to death in my docs

[ilovemylawyer]

my writing juices are not flowing as heavily as i would like… resulting to rambling here in some kind of effort to say. something. anything.

1. for ohjae research i have been digging into his actor. there is actually a lot more footage of his stage stuff than i was expecting!!! he was even on music bank once which is crazy and i highly encourage you to look into that specifically because the details are extremely funny. other than that tho there are some DELICIOUS bits of his stage acting scattered across youtube and goodness gracious he is precious. if you want specific recommendations i can provide…

2. i think i have made this pretty apparent in my works but i’ll say it anyways- sdy is (TO ME, feel free to disagree!) a virgin with absolutely zero relationship experience. so writing anything no betrayal/sustainable business/actual romantic (intimate might be more honest) relationship is SUPER FUN. a bumbling fool… lovesick fool with nothing to fall back on when things aren’t perfect… and having ds use this to his advantage WHEEE~~~~!!! SO FUN!!!!!!!!

3. i love the canon ending. i don’t want any of my stuff to make it seem like i am trying to right any wrongs the show made. it is just easier to write short, fun stuff in a canon divergence world. but i have like, 3? canonending projects planned/in the works. it’s just so hard for me to work on longer stuff because i won’t put it out until it’s all done, and it’s a lonely fight… but i love the canon ending. it’s perfect. it’s tragic! ds deserves it! i love that he gets to experience the same loneliness that dy had before latching onto him and dying by his hand. i love it. so delicious. i love evil sad all alone lawyer. that house is too damn big for him.

[ddarker-dreams]

a little fluff blurb for bladie from my google docs !! reader here is fem.

Blade almost took it personally when you failed to notice him. 

His presence in your room certainly stands out. Everything about him contradicts the soft pastel colors, abundant flora, and cute finishing touches. Nothing in the universe aside from your kitchenette registers. You hum along with the song playing in your ears, waiting for your tea’s timer to go off. 

He walked in when the countdown read five minutes. Presently, it’s at two. 

You’re wearing dangerously short pajama shorts and an old t-shirt, the band’s logo faded out from years in the wash. He’d considered making himself known, but watching you frolic about proved too tempting. You have your back turned toward him, entirely oblivious, stuck in a little world of your own making. 

Creepy as it may be, Blade considers it soothing to stare at you. Therapeutic, even. A way to unwind from the blood-filled jobs that beckon his mara out to play.

A wicked idea forms in his head. Going without you for so much as a day is enough to seriously dampen his mood. Normally, it’s his enemies that reap the consequences. He’ll miss their vitals just enough that they’re left to go into shock and bleed out, rather than a swift, merciful death. What can he say? It’s their fault for existing and cutting into his time with you. That’s on them.

He stalks over, movements akin to a mountain lion that’s located its unsuspecting prey. 

You’re lifting the teabag out a few moments early. He’s close enough to double as your shadow, the corners of his lips twitching upward from anticipation. 

The second your timer goes off, he strikes, large hands settling on either side of your hips. This unexpected contact earns immediate retaliation. You actually squeak, much to his surprise (and amusement). Your response doesn’t end there. From instinct, you twist your torso around, ready to ward off the threat. 

Maybe it’s because you have an object in your hand, or maybe it’s because your subconscious knows you’re in no real danger, but you don’t materialize your weapon. 

Instead, you try thwacking him with your dripping teabag. 

He easily catches your wrist, thwarting your assault. It takes you all of a millisecond to understand the situation. You use your free hand to slowly remove your in-ears. He can’t help it — your pinched-together eyebrows and scrunched-up nose makes him chuckle. This worsens his crimes from your perspective, which you make evident by a non-threatening glare. 

“Nice weapon,” he drawls. 

“Hey, that’s— that’s unfair,” you complain. “I wasn’t expecting an ambush.” 

Blade raises an eyebrow. “Is it an ambush if you expect it?” 

“Yes? No. Maybe. Quit looking at me like that, I didn’t sleep well last night.” 

“Mhm.” 

He plucks the teabag from your grasp and throws it away. Meanwhile, you remain frozen in time, only moving enough to cross your arms over your chest. The wrath you try directing his way is largely ineffective. Your miffed countenance is akin to a bunny scowling. 

“I was looking forward to your return, but I’ve since changed my mind.” 

“Mm.” 

He hoists you up onto the kitchenette’s countertop. The way the soft flesh of your thighs expands against the marble tempts him, but he knows he won’t be getting anything until your faux frustration is appeased. It won’t take much — or long. He just gazes into your pretty eyes, his bandaged hand cupping your face, the pad of his thumb massaging your cheekbone. You melt for him almost immediately. 

“Everything alright?” You ask, your arms finding their place around his neck. 

To Blade, everything’s more than ‘alright,’ because you’re here. Treating him with care he doesn’t deserve, and love he deserves even less. He used to worry he’d taint you, like clear waters turning opaque from filth. However, it’s as Kafka once said, likely pitying his lovelorn self. 

“Shouldn’t you let her decide that for herself?” 

For reasons genuinely beyond his comprehension, you decided he was worth the trouble. 

His gloved hand settles on your thigh. The irony of how he caresses you with the same hand responsible for hundreds, if not thousands of deaths isn't lost on him. Since regaining a semblance of consciousness, that's all he thought he was good for. Bloodshed and slaughter.

He observes how you shudder through lidded eyes.

You don't look at him as if he's a monster. You should, he often thinks, because he is. There's no sugarcoating the truth. He's become everything he once swore to eradicate. Mad, vengeful, immortal. A product of the Abundance's perversion of the lines separating life and death.

And yet, all those centuries, all that suffering led him to you.

You aren't the light at the end of the tunnel — you're light in its entirety.

Blade is greedy when he slots his lips against yours. He's greedy when he pulls you closer, his bandaged hand tilting your head up, allowing him to devour you with ease. Your scent, your taste, your little laugh at how unabashedly eager he is, everything blurs together and threatens to leave him breathless.

How can he pull away when your legs wrap around his waist? When you thread your hands through his hair, reciprocating his ardor like he's worth even an ounce of your affection? He isn't, he's nothing compared to you, a ghost of a man who can't cross over into the afterlife.

Sometimes, he no longer wants to. Not if you're on this side of eternity.

"Well?" You pull back a few inches from him to ask. As pretty as your smile is, he likes your lips best when they're against his. "You gonna answer my question?"

He furrows his eyebrows together and tries kissing you again. Talking about emotions in any context isn't his forte, you both know that. He's always preferred to express himself through actions than words. However, when you deny him the pleasure of your lips a second time, impatience coils inside his chest.

He huffs.

"The best," he deadpans. You roll your eyes yet laugh anyway.

"You almost pout more than I do," you tease. For this infraction, he gives your thigh a pinch, enjoying the feeling of your soft flesh a little too much. "I just worry, y'know? You become such a sourpuss when we're apart for any length of time."

You aren't wrong, but he'll keep that to himself.

“Okay, okay, stop glaring. C’mere.”

You don’t need to tell him twice. He takes you up on your offer the second you’ve finished making it.

Blade might not know how to tell you how much you mean to him, but that doesn’t mean he can show you.

[thegnomelord]

For the prompt game, maybe 7 with price and m!reader. Price gets pissed off that reader almost got themselves killed on a mission to protect him. Just some lovely old man angst

Tumblr's acting up again and it's deleted my draft like 3 times so fingers crossed this works else I will cry😓 . I saw the old man angst and immediately thought of Rodolfoparras work and this so yeah. Play the game HERE.

Prompt: “Well, I’m sorry I fell in love with you, okay? But it happened and I can’t do shit about it.” “You… What?��

CW: SFW-ish, Omega John Price, Alpha Male reader, mentions of gore, kissing, angst, omegaverse.

When your file had landed on his desk he had contemplated refusing; you were a stereotypical alpha — a loudmouthed meathead with little regard for your own health, headstrong and stupidly stubborn over the dumbest shit, and with a long list of incident reports dating back to the first day you joined the army. TF141 was your last chance before a dishonorable discharge and Price, stupidly, had taken you in like the stray you were.

Safe to say you turned out to be the leading cause of his grey hairs with all the shit you pulled. . . but. . . not to the extent he expected.

Unlike most alphas, you were surprisingly receptive to taking orders from an omega like Price, and carried yourself around the others without attempting to establish the dated hierarchy. After giving you guidance, and learning how you thought, Price had been seeing serious improvement.

'Course, all of that went down the drain when you decided to charge head first into a group of enemies when Price had gotten stabbed.

"What the fuck were you thinking lad?" Price hisses harshly under his breath, eyes boring a hole between your brows. He's standing at the foot of the medical bed, watching your chest rise and fall in a steady rhythm. "What the fuck were you thinking?" You better not die so he can kill you himself.

He doesn't expect you to answer, knocked out as you are with your chest wrapped in fresh bandages after the docs fished out who knows how many bullets from your torso— 16, his inner omega reminds him, 16 bullets he took for You.

He sighs, "You're a lucky muppet." Walking around the bed he places a hand on your thigh, slowly inching up to rest on your lower abdomen, dark red spots denoting where bullet wounds lie. "But a stupid alpha." He growls. It's a good thing military alphas are like walking tanks of fat and muscle, you can take a few hits, though the thought does little to soothe his omega when you lay unconscious.

He doesn't even notice he's making a small distressed sound in his chest until your eyes flutter open, squinting from the harshness of artificial lights before you notice him looming over you; something between a guardian angel and death itself.

"Price?" Your nose twitches, lungs expanding despite the ache in your chest to catch his scent, your alpha noticing the sharp acrid taste hiding his usual pine smell. "What happened?" You ask, achy as you are you manage to tilt your head enough to let out a low chest vibrating purr, seeking to calm your omega.

"What happened, it that you dumb muppet almost died!" He hisses, anger making his scent even harsher, hating himself how his omega swoons at the purr, at how you put him before yourself even when you're knocking on death's door. "Were you trying to get killed?"

You hand your head and look away. You can scarcely recall what happened, the drugs and adrenaline muddling your mind so any memory comes out like an abstract painting, but one detail remains — Rage.

A Deep.

—bleeding flesh neath your fingernails, painfilled screams silenced by your snarls—

Dark.

—the 'crack' of bone against stone as the strength behind your hands forced the skull to shatter, blood and brains splashing against your face—

Animalistic.

—desperate hands scrambling against your head, the frantic pulse beneath your tongue rapidly dwindling once your teeth dug deep enough to tear through the jugular—

Rage.

You don't remember ever being as angry as you'd been when you'd seen Price clutching his side, the bloodied blade of a knife clenched between his fingers, unknown hostiles encroaching towards him. Your omega had been injured. Your omega had been injured. And you didn't think twice, vision turned as red as his blood with a singular thought of Kill Kill Kill banging on your skull you didn't even notice you were bleeding.

Like a proper animal. Like something you've been trying to prove you're not.

"I'm-" You swallow, though cleaned, you can still taste the blood of the enemy whose throat you'd torn out, your teeth still stained red. "-sorry. I'm sorry."

"'I'm sorry' he says, is'at the best you've got?" Price presses on, coming closer and bracing a hand on your chest, his limb vibrating from your purr. It's hard to stay mad at you when you're doing this, his omega wanting nothing more but curl next to you, to share warmth and protect you while you recover. "What was going through your thick skull? Wait, let me guess: Nothing." Still he persists, not showing what he's feeling.

You hang your shoulders low and head lower still, chewing on your lip as you listen him chew you out. Something sits heavy in your chest, growing bigger with every word he says like a snowball, his anger leaving your alpha —dumb creature that it is— confused and hurt; why is your omega angry, when you protected him? When you nearly died for him? When you love him—

“Well, I’m sorry I fell in love with you, okay?" You snap, rough and angry, your gaze fixed on his. You stop purring, leaving the room too cold and silent without it. "But it happened and I can’t do shit about it.”

“You… What?”

You flinch and suck in a breath as pain flares across your body. You expected a lot of different responses, from anger to indifference to being told you're out of the taskforce. . . not that.

"Lad." Price's voice is unnervingly calm, one hand on your scruff, the other holding your chin, the sudden contact of his skin on yours fooling your alpha into letting him tilt your head to meet his eyes. "Repeat that. Slowly."

You gaze into his eyes, so many things swirling in the blue yet you're unable to tell any of it. Slowly you breathe in, "I. . . I love you." You say, open and honest and too vulnerable for an old omega like him.

". . .oh, you stupid alpha." Price almost laughs, dimples around his mouth as he smiles. Like puzzle pieces something clicks in his head.

Before his words can feel like a slap to your face he leans in, your foreheads bonking together before you find the right angle for his lips to meet yours. He tastes like his cigars and black coffee and everything you thought he would, your body melting into his, your nose full of his scent, your brain full of him.

"Could have told me without nearly dying." You separate to catch your breaths, foreheads resting against each other, breathing the same air and only now do you notice Price is purring. It's not the same bone rattling purr alphas can produce, but just as soothing, and you can't help but giggle when your own purr causes his to become louder.

You think, maybe, everything will be alright—

"After you get better." He whispers against your lips, soft and sweet, saccharine pine scent sticking to your nose like amber. "You and I will have a long talk about safety."

Maybe not.

[starberry-cupcake]

I came back!!! I didn't leave you for 5 months!!! And now I have 3 chapter updates together!!! I'm kissing you all in the brow tenderly like palmolive did to harrow and offering this recap

previously, in harrowcita del 9:

this happened

CHAPTER 34

harrow wakes up in a different spot, with camilla next to her and a shuttle with a design she has never seen before

she confirms that palmolive is indeed in his bachelor apartment in the river

camilla is very glad she doesn't have to go back to sweep the floor of canaan house for more palmolive bits

harrowcita does as palm told her and turns the skull into a hand because cam doesn't want a full skeleton reproduction because "it would get her in trouble"

customs are nasty up there in space

harrow goes to check up the shuttle and finds more old pals!!!

there's judith, remember judith?

in harrow's memory, she was dead from the slasher waker sleeper, but in our memory she was close to dead but not quite

turns out she's alive

not great for anyone other than herself, but anyway

there's also regina george twin

harrow remembers her falling to her death in the hands of mayonnaise uncle, but we remember her from crying in a corner last we saw her

after yandere twin had slurped chad the third and all that

this is again confusing me a bit, because clearly harrow remembers the gideon-less narrative but not!dulcinea is included in her memory, so that's still undetermined for me

there's also a poster of a woman harrow takes quite some time looking at

she: 1) looks intimidating, 2) is dressed in black, 3) has red hair

harrow immediately starts bleeding

"that portrait frightened you more than anything you had seen since becoming a Lyctor; it scared the irresolute piss from your body. Yet you had never seen the face before in your life"

my immediate theory is that maybe she's the leader of BOE who went missing about 20 years ago and that I mentally connect to gideon or gideon's mom

without any evidence other than math and a hunch

we'll see how wrong I am in the following chapters

harrow starts taking out her letters for everyone present

past!harrow wanted present!harrow to silence judith (valid) and protect regina george twin, only silence her if necessary

yandere twin had added some annotations on this about not hurting her sister

these letters were google docs

regina george twin has a ninth house rapier

I WONDER WHAT THAT IS ABOUT

harrow does as told (by herself) but wants to know what is going on so she un-silences judith momentarily and judith is an asshole who wants to rat someone out to the emperor

idk how things are at BOE or what is going on but here we don't stan the emperor so anyone who wants to protect him isn't my friend

camilla gives the ninth pledge to convince her to let them leave and says "we're not on the same side anymore"

PROMISING

when asked who took them from canaan house and who they're with, camilla says "you call them Blood Of Eden"

POSTER THEORY NOT CONFIRMED BUT I WONDER

CHAPTER 35

back in gideon-less universe with ortus and his polycule the fifth

abby thinks the lost chambers of the emperor run sidelong to the facility, which is information I very much would have liked her to elaborate on

but harrowcita is spotted listening in on the private conversation

harrow also keeps wanting ortus to do gideon stuff and show gideon behavior

she doesn't know that's what she wants but we know because she keeps being like "ortus doesn't start immediately doing push ups after almost dying, isn't showing his arms to the young ones and hasn't said a single dirty joke, which isn't ninth behavior but she's somehow expecting it".

canaan house is also growing some body horror stuff

sure, why not

abby says "time was always against us", which is pretty intense, knowing what we know

and then in comes teacher acting like he's drunk out of his ass, but he says he's not

it's great for us because drunk exposition is useful

he calls "the devil" a "her" who "bent for god to put a leash around her neck" and how the "disciples were scared" of her

then the lyctors found out what they had to do and they asked doctor reverend emperor john to kill her

but he "put her in a box"

like this

"you worship a monster in a box" "now we have a monster in a box"

I hadn't thought of those parallels, actually, that's my bad

"once that rock's rolled away, once that tomb's levered open, the Emperor of the Nine Houses will never know peace ever again"

CHAPTER 36

there's a bug in this one, like in the illustration

is this the beast?

harrow prays that not!dulcinea's body is tossed out through the airlock

WHERE HAVE I HEARD THAT BEFORE??????

OH YEAH, I HAVE BEEN ASKING FOR THAT SAME THING

at first I thought harrow didn't remember her meeting the gang because it said "and why now was one of your letters missing and another two freshly opened?"

but she does remember, so narrator (still unknown) is confusing me

playing games with my mind

they have boring code-names that aren't puns or funny nicknames (which I have a predilection for) but their initials and the initial of their cav

dr reverend emperor john has a g, which I know what word it stands for, but I don't know what it means because it showed up in a dashboard spoiler but thankfully it had no context

so there's AA for Augustine Alfred, GP for Gideon (alleged, we're still not saying that one aloud, I'm still betting on it though) Pyrrha, IN for Ianthe Naberius

which is confusing to me because I call him Chad and everyone else calls him Babs but his name is Naberius but I always read it as Nebarius

he's like a puppy that you name one way but everyone calls differently

augustine hesitates on harrow's name and says "Harrow's H"

harrow says HO and everyone's awkward about it

you sure, harrow? you sure it's O?

turns out the beast is here to get doctor reverend emperor john's sorry ass for, according to mercygirl what "you did to its kin" and "it sees my cavalier's mortal soul burning in my chest"

harrow wants to kiss ice cube barbie but she's not having it and goes "i have to go away for a while"

that's rough, buddy

mercygirl proceeds to draw a cylinder with names of layers and explains the very convoluted and not at all certain sounding plan they've got

apparently ulysses threw sexy parties that mercygirl hated

harrowcita does remember seeing regina george twin and is worried that yandere twin is the traitor that judith was taking about

I think harrow is the traitor but she doesn't know it

I think her forgetting stuff is part of a plan to kill the emperor, but my evidence is circumstantial

as long as we kill this dude, it's all good

mercygirl gives a speech about how much she hates everyone and how she wants to torture the emperor

if we are to spare one lyctor from the guillotine, let it be her

everyone has positions to take in this plan (that sounds like it's kinda doomed) and that the emperor isn't paying attention to at all

everyone except for harrow, because they all think she's gonna die

and we get potential foreshadowing?????? about the stoma

which is "hell" and the emperor says it's "where my power and my authority are utterly meaningless"

AND THAT'S WHERE WE ARE NOW, FAM!!! see you next time!!!

[grampsoninspace]

doctor’s orders.

Please, don’t let it be him.

Please no…

Please!

“Good evening,” a warm voice interrupts your silent pleading with whatever force is listening. There’s strain in the usual honeyed tone, which jerks your chin upward with an invisible string. Your panicked thoughts are replaced by your emergency mode, your hands trembling with adrenaline at the pain in the man’s voice.

“What did you do now?” you hiss, assessing the patient visually before you even get close to him, watching blood drip steadily from a wound just shy of his temple.

Captain Howzer smiles up at you with mischief in his brown eyes.

“I got a little too close to the action, Doc,” he shrugs.

“How many times do I have to tell you? The blood belongs inside of your body, Captain. For Maker’s sake, can we go a single week without you risking life and limb for the nearest being?” You pull your gloves on with an angry snap.

“Well… it is my job,” he tells you, trying to sound the slightest bit remorseful and failing miserably.

“I don’t care if it’s your job — it’s going to be a little hard to do it if you’re dead,” you shake your head, starting to remove his armor to assess the rest of him.

“You’re fussing again,” Howzer’s voice drops in octave and volume, much too near your ear.

“Well, that is my job,” you mimic his accent poorly, daring to look back into his eyes as you remove his chest plate.

His full lips are twisted in the faintest smile, and he is watching your every move. You roll your eyes but you can feel yourself blush, choosing instead to focus on removing his pauldrons, gauntlets, and gloves.

“I know... I like it when you fuss over me,” he leans forward and yanks the top of his blacks off with one hand, exposing his skin down to his waist.

You turn back to face him and remind yourself with a deep breath and a mental lashing that you are a fucking professional and you will do your job without incident or…

Or…?

What were you saying?

“Well?” he prompts.

“Hm?” you raise your eyebrows, pretending you were listening.

He leans back with his palms flat on the exam table, his knees farther apart than you remember. “I asked you a question.”

“Which was?” you ask, frowning, silently cursing yourself.

“I asked what your diagnosis was,” he smirks.

“I don’t know yet,” you rub your forehead with the back of your hand. “I need to get your head cleaned up first. Do you feel pain or discomfort anywhere else?”

“No pain…” His smile is teasing. “But I still expect a thorough examination. I could be in shock.”

You give him a look. “Behave yourself, Captain.”

Howzer holds his hands up. “I’m just asking you to do your job, Doc. I wouldn’t expect any less but the closest attention to detail when you’re in charge.”

You swallow, and he won’t look away from your eyes — even as you start to gently clean the wound on his forehead and he sucks in a breath through his teeth, grabbing your wrist roughly and trying to pull your hand away.

Your stomach flips but you give him a stern look.

“Captain. When I said to behave yourself, I clearly meant you need to allow me to do my job.”

“Warn me next time,” he growls, releasing you.

“I did!” You smack his hand down. “I told you I had to clean your head…”

“Oh, that’s what you meant,” he smirks up at you as you continue removing the blood from his skin. You press harder in retaliation and he grabs both of your wrists.

“Stop being belligerent or I’ll let you fuckin’ bleed to death,” you tell him through gritted teeth.

“Which one happens first?” he asks, your wrists still bound in the shackles of his rough hands.

“What—?” you ask, scrunching up your face.

“You said you’d let me fuck and bleed to death,” he repeats, pulling you forward and tugging your hands behind his back so your face is much too close to his.

“Do you think it could be in that order?” he drops his voice down deep and low, his breath warm on your skin.

“You know damn well I did not say that,” you tell him, trying to sound sure of yourself, but your voice shakes.

“Do I?” he asks, searching your face with his dilated eyes.

“Should I check your hearing?” you ask sharply, but his gaze lands on your lips.

“What?” he jokes, and you sigh in his face.

“Captain.”

His eyes flick to yours, and he leans back just enough to let your hips rest in the V his legs have made. “Say my name, and I’ll be good for you.”

“This is very unprofessional behavior,” you frown.

“I’m no snitch,” he whispers. “Besides, is it against protocol for you to use your patient’s name?”

“Of course not,” you sigh again. “But I’m using your title as a sign of respect, just as I would do with anyone else.”

“And I love that about you, but I wanna hear you say my name,” he grips your wrists harder, gives you a little yank, and you arch into him involuntarily.

“Captain Howzer…” you say, trying to keep your tone even and clinical.

“Close,” he smiles but shakes his head. “But no. Just say my name, and I’ll behave.”

You take a deep breath, knowing he’s absolutely full of shit without running a single test to prove it.

“Howzer…” you say in a low voice, your temple pressed against his. He hums low in his throat, and the vibration of it in his chest seems to travel wherever your body is touching his.

You let your lips brush his ear: “Can you please allow me to finish my exam now?”

“Yes ma’am,” he rumbles, letting go of your wrists and planting his hands on the edge of the table again.

His eyes are closed and he keeps very still as you clean his head wound, patching it with bacta and exploring the rest of the lines in his face, running your fingers over the deep scar on his cheek.

“Field medic work,” he smiles, leaning into your touch. “Didn’t have your finesse.”

“Doesn’t change anything,” you blurt out quietly.

His eyes slide open and they are darker than a starless night. “Hm?”

“You know,” you frown, pushing his face to the side to check his neck and shoulders with careful hands.

“What do I know?” he asks, his cheek twitching with how badly he’s trying not to smirk. “What doesn’t the field medic’s work change?”

You sigh roughly in the back of your throat as you move around the table to check his back. “Your… face.”

“Oh, because every clone has the same one?” he asks, a defensive lilt to his teasing.

“No!” you poke him in the shoulder blade, hard.

“Then what?” he twists, to try to make you look at him again, but you push him forward.

“What did you promise me?” you frown. “Be still, Howzer.”

He inhales deeply and sits up with perfectly straight posture. You run your hands down his spine, then press your fingers where you know injured organs would reveal tender spots. He doesn’t flinch, but you don’t know if that’s his training or an actual lack of pain. Nothing seems out of place, but knowing him, he’s probably hiding something.

“Get up,” you pat his shoulder.

He obeys, standing perfectly at attention.

And as you help him remove his lower armor, it’s very apparent that he’s not the only one.

You instantly blush, despite having seen countless human bodies in all different contexts… your whole body flushes with warmth which travels between your legs. You’re removing his knee pads and the feelings you’re having are so improper you feel yourself blushing harder with shame…

“Sorry Doc,” he says quietly. “Natural reaction.”

“To what?” you blurt out, looking up from your kneeling position into his face.

He smirks. “I think we both know you know the answer to that… You’re a doctor. You know how the human body functions in these situations…”

You shake your head. “I’m making sure you’re not going to die of internal injuries, Howzer. I’m not doing anything to try and…cause this.”

“Don’t have to,” he says, low and rough. “You just are.”

Your fingers are still on his thigh, just about to get him to lift his foot to let you remove his boot, when you stop and feel your jaw go slack.

“Please stand up,” he asks. You oblige him, and he sits back up on the exam table, obediently removing his boots for you without breaking eye contact once. You swallow around your dry throat, taking in the sight of him there in nothing but the bottom half of his blacks, which he’s now standing again to remove.

Howzer sits back up on the exam table in just his dark briefs, which — despite their color — are not doing much to hide the topic of your discussion.

Why do I want it in my mouth?

Your eyes are wide when you meet his gaze again, thankful beyond belief that he can’t read your mind. But he smiles softly like he can.

Why is that a thought I’m having right now, when I should be making sure he isn’t in any more pain?

You try to snap out of it, distracting yourself by looking fo contusions or abrasions, any signs of internal injuries or dislocated bones… You put your gloved hand on his thigh to inspect a discoloration there and his body reacts visibly to your touch.

“Howzer…” you whisper, “Should I stop?”

“Please don’t,” he breathes, reaching out to grip the wrist closest to his bare skin.

“I… I need you to stand up and turn around,” you tell him quietly, and he does as he’s told, letting you peruse the backs of his legs and the bottoms of his feet.

When he turns around again, he’s mere inches from your body, his muscles taut and his face hyper-focused on yours.

“I don’t see any other… problems,” you swallow, your voice barely audible. “You’re free to dress and go now.”

“But I don’t want to,” he shrugs, lifting his hands to cradle your face.

He doesn’t kiss you.

He brushes his nose against yours, touches your foreheads together, rubs his cheekbone up and down your cheek.

You can feel the rough texture of the skin on his face and let a soft sound escape your careful throat.

Howzer locks onto that sound like a heat-seeking missile, pressing his hand gently to your throat and repeating the motion he thinks you liked — his cheek pressed to yours.

You whimper lightly, just barely audible, and he loses his careful control to what he wants most.

He kisses you so hard it snaps your head back; you gasp into his mouth and he takes that as an invitation, exploring inside with his tongue. He only breaks the seal your lips have made to let you breathe, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your jaw and down your neck, hungrily making his way down to taste as much of your skin as he can reach.

His hands move from your face and neck to unbutton your uniform coat, pushing it down off your shoulders onto the floor, sliding his long fingers under the shirt you wear beneath.

“I want this off,” he tells you, and you nod your permission, lifting your arms to let him strip you from the waist up.

He removes your bra so quickly and easily it gives you the slightest moment of hesitation and doubt, wondering how many women he’s collected inside the warmth of his body just like this. But his hands are holding your breasts and his tongue is in your mouth again, and you quickly forget your fears. His fingers travel down to the waistband of your pants, and you don’t think you’ve ever taken them off so quickly in your entire lifetime.

“Fuck,” he whispers, looking at you in nothing but your underwear. “You’re perfect.”

“Prove it,” you tease him. “You get naked first.”

He smiles at you with bright eyes, yanking his underwear down and hopping up to lie back on the exam table with his arms behind his head, all too comfortable.

“What’s the verdict, Doc?” he asks, eyes closed, body stretched out for your (scientific) inspection.

You remove your gloves and run your fingertips from his broad shoulders to his hip bones, watching his dick twitch at the attention of your hands.

“I think you’re perfectly…healthy, Captain,” you tell him, your eyes landing on the glorious thickness he’s been hiding in those briefs.

Howzer props himself up on one elbow, turning just enough to ripple more muscles like a statue carved of some ancient god from another galaxy.

“Your turn,” he drawls, gesturing with his finger toward your underwear, and you shake your head.

“Oh now that’s just not fair,” he crows, climbing back down off the exam table and putting his hands on your hips, changing tactics.

“Do you want me to take them off for you?” he gives you a half-smile, his eyes blazing a path from your bare breasts to the fabric between him and his goal.

You nod slowly, pushing your hips just slightly forward as he dips his thumbs in the band around your waist.

“I need to hear you say it,” he says quietly.

“Please take them off,” you try to whisper, but it comes out like a whine. He looks into your eyes expectantly, wiggling his thumbs but not moving his hands any more than that.

“Howzer…” you groan. “Please.”

“That’s better,” he pushes your underwear to the floor and runs his hands back up your legs as you step out. “Isn’t it?”

He kisses you again, softer this time but no less hungry, pulling you back with him onto the exam table. He wraps his arms around you until you’re flush on top of him, nipping at your lips and running his hands all over your body, seeking friction by pressing his hips up into yours…

“Would you like to ride me, sweetheart?” he rasps, his erection pressed against your hip, his heart pounding in his chest against yours. “Because I’d like nothing more than to see you get on top and use me however you want.”

You know your face must look like you’re in pain, the need for him so strong it feels like your heart could stop. You move your knees apart and brace yourself, letting him help you to a more upright position, crawling back until you’re hovering right above him.

You look into his eyes as you guide him to your entrance, inhaling shakily as you feel the tip slide past your resistance, shoving your knees farther apart and dropping slowly to take him deeper. His eyes practically roll back in his head the farther down you go, groaning low in his throat when he’s fully sheathed inside of you.

The two of you stay very still for a long moment, just breathing while you both adjust. When you start to move on him, he looks up at you heavy-lidded and reaches up to grope your breasts, moaning a bit as you sink your fingernails into his shoulders trying to find a rhythm you both like. You roll your hips and grip him good as you do, filthy curses escaping his swollen lips with every thrust.

Howzer lifts his knees slightly to support you, gripping your hips tight as you ride him hard, forgetting every reason you shouldn’t be doing this as you lose yourself to the feeling of him inside of you as his hands explore your ass.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted to fuck you like this?” he asks roughly, one hand gripping your ass, the other running up your back to grab a fistful of your hair. You shake your head, unable to form cohesive thoughts as you move on him faster, your need for him only increasing the harder you fuck him.

He sits up suddenly, spreading his legs and bending his knees, wrapping his arms around your lower back and staring right in your eyes as he fucks you right back.

You run your hands through his hair, rubbing the fuzz where his head is shaved and crying out as he hits the perfect spot while holding you this close.

“Since day one,” he rasps. “I’ve wanted you like this since I first met you. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve thought about taking you right here, just like this…”

He grunts as you clench around him, wetter than ever and panting his name, blissfully close to him making you cum in his lap right on your fucking exam table.

“Fuck me, Howzer,” you beg him, all sense of propriety lost in the lustful haze clouding your brain and flooding your body with heat. “Please just fuck me.”

“No, baby,” he denies you. “I want this to last.”

“But I’m so close,” you whine, pushing him down on his back and riding him harder.

He moves his hand from your hip to press his fingertips to your clit, not bothering to move them with how quickly your hips are rocking, and your head rolls loosely on your neck as your back arches. You bite your lip to keep from screaming as he drags the orgasm right out of you with his lazy fingers and his ridiculously perfect cock.

“Howzer, I can’t, I’m gonna…” you whine, and he pulls himself up again, locking eyes with you as he feels you hit your threshold, a strangled moan slipping out of you as he keeps you close while you cum.

“Come on, baby,” he coaxes as you start to slow your movements to a near-stop, “Are we done already?”

“Sit up,” you tell him, climbing off of him and the table, kneeling and watching him swing his legs over the side.

“Am I already due for another exam—” he chokes on his teasing remark as you take his leaking dick into the tight wetness of your mouth, rolling your tongue underneath him and hollowing your cheeks.

“Fucking Maker,” Howzer groans, his hands instantly tangling in your hair, hips bucking toward your face. “You keep that up and I’m not going to last much longer either.”

Your only reply is to bob your head, taking him deeper toward your throat with each motion, using your hands to grip what can’t fit inside your mouth.

“Oh sweet fuck,” he growls, turning into an absolute mess as you stare up into his eyes while you suck him off. He doesn’t know where to put his hands and he’s trying so hard to let you do what you want, but you can feel him throbbing and you know he’s ready to lose it.

“Sweetheart, I don’t know where you want me to cum, but you’d better decide fast,” he rasps, his eyes squeezing shut.

You keep him in your mouth, but pull back just enough to swirl your tongue around his already-sensitive tip. He groans and shoves his dick deeper in your mouth, yanking your head back by the hair as he loses control. He cums down your throat with a series of grunts and moans your name when he’s finally finished. You swallow every drop, content to lick him lazily until he groans and tugs on your hair to make you stop, guiding your face back up to his.

“You’re mine now, I hope you know,” he growls in your ear, his scarred cheek pressed to yours as he does.

You nod in agreement, feeling his fingers slip between your legs again as he kisses you gently at first…

But you make sure to call him “Captain” when he makes you cum the second time, with nothing but his tongue.

[ddamm]

‘Goodbye’ | What if Y/N died? - Daryl Dixon x reader - TWD imagine fic

(Image found in Pinterest, so, credits to rightful owner)

Warnings: angst definitely, death of a loved one, mentions of pregnancy and childbirth, mild Daryl swearing, might cry so have some tissues at hand

Word counts: 1399 words (I think it´s the shortest I´ve done for now)

Era: at least after S3 Prison era, but no era in particular

A/N: Sincerely I'm not sure how or why I came up with this. I made a draft of this after my evening prayer session. I stayed on the ground for like half an hour after singing worship and crying and then this song came to me… and all I could picture was this very sad moment of the death of a loved one, and Daryl… Somehow I always end up crying when I listen to this song. It has something so emotional about it, something that feels like a goodbye… well, enjoy it and try not to cry haha.

Song: Je te laisserai des most - Patrick Watson

(listen during the whole thing over and over again 👍🏿)

Original banner (without the ‘goodbye’ phrase) from @kimjiho1, in this post

Daryl promised himself he would not shed more tears after Merle's death, but how would he not if she was now the one vanishing in his arms?

Y/N was the love of his life and had become his motive to live. But now, because of them, time was ticking for her, and she'd depart for somewhere he couldn't reach. Somewhere, he couldn't follow her.

Daryl cursed beneath his breath, angry at the situation before him and at the helplessness he felt. His face went pale in fright as he scanned the multiple bite and tear marks bleeding out over her torso and body.

“Shit, shit, shit… Huh… Y-ya dun have to worry, angel. I'll take ya to the doc and they'll… they'll fix ya up. We'll find a way,” he said, trying to stay positive and evading the cruel reality.

“Is everyone— safe?” Daryl's throat dried, and he found it difficult to speak, but he replied.

“Ye... Ye, everyone's… safe, thanks to ya,” he nodded his head slowly as he held Y/N close, parting her messy and scattered hair out of your face.

“I'm– sorry, Dar Dar… I'm always– giving you trouble, am I not?” Her breathing was difficult and slow, and this was scaring the man further as he tried to laugh out what she said.

“Ya ain't gotta be sorry 'bout nuthin', angel... C'mon, we gotta fix yer mess before ya start stinkin' like a skunk.” Daryl tried picking her up from the dusty ground, but she couldn't even feel your legs anymore.

He halted his actions when he felt her grasp on his shirt. Her trembling, blood-stained hand was holding onto him with the few strengths she had left. “I can't… this is it, Daryl,” she said, knowing it was too late for her, but he hushed her words.

“Dun say that. Yer gonna be jus' fine,” he insisted, wishing to remain in his delusion.

“Daryl, please... Take care of Allie...” she had solicited as her last wish.

“I can't.” “Yes, you can; I know you can.” “Y'all can do tha' when ya recover.” He kept bickering. “Dary, you're not liste—” “She's gonna need her mama, I ain't no good with 'em kids; she'll—”

“DARYL DIXON!” She exclaimed, making the man at her side hush.

“It has to be you. You're the—cough, cough, cough.” She spluttered blood over her chin, staining Daryl's face too. But he could only care about her, and with all the care in the world, he wiped her stained face for her.

Once she stabilised her breathing, she resumed. “You're the only one. The only one I can trust this to.” Daryl shook his head, going against her statement. “I-I can't... I wun be able to do tha' stuff on ma own... Being a parent, tha' stuff ain't somethin' someone fucked up like me can do.” His hands trembled in hers while he explained his twisted reasoning on why he wasn't the right person to fulfil her last request, taking care of her baby.

“Daryl, you won't be alone... You've got Rick, Michonne, Carol—” “Ain't the same damn thing,” he replied with a stern, upset voice.

Just a few weeks ago, you successfully gave birth to your precious daughter, Alison, and now, you were vanishing in his arms? Daryl couldn't accept it.

“Yer... different. Different from 'em, different from all, dammit,” he cursed under his breath, frustrated about not being able to word out how he felt about her.

“Yer... ma damn reason to survive! I can't— I can't do nothin' without ya. She needs ya here; she needs her mama. What in tarnation am I gonna tell her when she's old enough to bother my ass with questions 'bout her old hag?” He questioned her with a hint of dread. “You tell her the truth.” “That I let her mama get killed 'cause I was dilly-dallyin' too dang long?” he pressed on a little aggressively.

“Daryl.” She called his name with a serious stare, not liking that he was already blaming himself, but her gaze softened when she saw the look on his face. “I've lost too much stuff, too many folks... I can't lose ya too; I... I need ya, Y/N...”

She quieted down for a while as thoughts invaded her mind, and Y/N felt bad for passing on her role, her responsibility to Daryl as a burden on his shoulders.

He always took care of her (in his own Dixon way). Back in the quarry camp, Daryl had defended her and her late husband many times (more like her) when Shane and Carol's husband crossed the line. She still remembers how his arrow saved her, just in time, from getting bitten by a walker the night before they left.

She remembered how he had comforted her (tried) after the CDC Lab incident and even when they discovered what happened to Sofia. He was the most upset about that, yet he still came to apologise to her too for not trying well enough, because he knew Sofia and she had a great relationship (just like you and Carol).

Now that she thought of it, the number of times Daryl silently protected, shielded, or cared for her without her full acknowledgement was overwhelming. He had constantly been there for her for so long, always stepping in to save or defend her, even before her husband turned. He became twice as protective of her when he learned there was a new life growing inside her.

All that evidence... Yet she continued to deny any attraction to the lone archer, even if deep down she knew exactly what she felt. Her late husband was long lost and gone, but why could she never seem to leave the sense of guilt away? Why did she feel it was wrong to correspond to Daryl's ways of affection?

If she could have, she would have sighed, pitting herself and her way of disrespecting him and his feelings. But nothing can be done now.

“I know you are afraid... Afraid of parenting alone... Afraid of hurting her... But Daryl, that girl adores you already... Even just as a baby, you're the only person she doesn't cry with besides me. The only one I could leave her with when I needed to rest.”

Y/N stretched her weakened hand to meet his cheek, gently caressing his skin, and he placed his on top of hers as his tears and sniffs became more prominent.

“I'm sorry, I can't stay... I have to rest forever now,” she chuckled, trying to ease him, but seeing her faking strength only hurt him more. “You are awesome, Daryl. The fact that you always took care of me proves it. And she knows that you cared for her mama and that you'll do the same for her. That's why she smiles the most when you're around.”

His sobs became more audible. Your words of support and cheering burned in his skin like fire on a wood chunk. And he looked away in shame, not wanting your last vision of him to be his pathetic sadness, proof of his inner weakness.

“Can you, please, care for her while I'm gone?” She asked him one last time. Despite his sorrow, he nodded in silence, granting her peace of mind, as she knew she didn't have to worry no more.

“Thank you, Dar Dar...” “No need for tha', angel.” She assented, agreeing with his comment. She sought his gaze, wishing to speak her mind but found herself troubled, struggling to find the right terms and considering twice whether to fully express them before she eventually resolved to say her final words to him.

“Oh, and Daryl?” He hummed, asking what she wanted. “I love you,” she professed. And that was his breaking point.

His heart was filled with regret for not being there in time, for not staying by her side, for not being truthful with his feelings and telling her how much she meant to him whenever he could...

“I... I love ya too, Y/N,” he replied, dropping a kiss on her forehead.

A final smile came to her lips as her eyes closed and her hand dropped to her side, signifying the end.

Daryl held her body against his, weeping the death of his beloved, as the third time someone he cared for died in his presence, without him being able to stop it.

“Goodbye, angel...”

star divider found in @anitalenia pink dividers post

A/N: So, here comes this that I had been planning for some time but never found enough time to finish (my laptop wasn't cooperating). I don't really have much to say about it but I think I don't like it as much. Maybe I need to re-listen to the song to see if I feel the same way as when I wrote down the idea but idk, it doesn't look good (not satisfied with the ending).

But anws, thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed it.

Take care and God bless!~

𓆩 ♱ 𓆪

support divider from @cafekitsune, in this post

[therealslimshakespeare]

WIP teaser

I got myself a lovely little request over a week ago for a Nurse!xBuck fic. Well, hi, it’s me, can’t not take that and run with it straight off the edge of the known world. I don’t even have a fixed name for it yet but I’ve been enjoying AU-ing our familiar faves to death with it

MOTA Pacific Theatre AU: yeah, you heard that right. Maybe it’s the anniversary of Iwo Jima currently happening or maybe it’s my ongoing crush on Ensign Jane Kendeigh, or -more likely- my subconscious awareness that nurse OC’s are a pretty favorited bunch for fandom writers, so I’ve found myself mixing it up entirely.

We’ve got Navy Flight Nurses and we’ve got Lt. Commander Doc Egan and co-pilots Cleven and Demarco who aren’t too fond of having to fly cargo planes full of wounded out of war zones all due to flight surgeon John Egan’s special request to have Cleven chauffeur him around. Oh yeah, and somehere in here there’s a developing thing between Cleven x oc Nurse!Ensign Maureen Kendeigh

TW: blood? Use of the word “Jap”

…

“You got it, commander.”

More than a little sure her mission was more provoking than necessary, Maureen still obeyed and followed Brady up the length of the plane and towards his station, then past it to poke her head between the pilots’ seats.

“Well, well, this is a pleasant surprise, getting car sick, kiddo?” Demarco joked, “Hey, I get it, I’d find it hell back there with no windows to look out.”

“Those mortars obligingly made a few.” Maureen joked back.

“Anybody hurt?” Cleven asked, and to her surprise, he turned from his panel to look at her with unmasked concern.

A joke was ready made there about everyone quite literally being shot to hell but she sensed he’d not appreciate it and following some uninterpreted impulse of desiring his good opinion, she hardly wished to repay his earnestness with flippancy. “Only one.”

“How bad?”

“He looked -dead.” Maureen admitted, she hadn’t gotten a good look at the man moving past him but she’d seen Egan’s treatment of the body and it wasn’t promising.

Cleven’s jaw worked overtime at the news and something snapped in his mouth, followed by a soft curse from lips too full and soft to always be so stern. Maureen thought he may have broken a tooth with all that tension but he spit out two halves of a bloodied toothpick instead. It fell to his pant leg.

“Major Cleven, sir, you’re bleeding.” It had drawn Maureen’s attention to his wet lap.

“That’s what I said.” Demarco agreed.

“It’s somebody else’s.” Cleven shook his head.

“You know if you pass out on me-“ Demarco warned, completely ignoring Cleven’s denial.

“-that’s why we’ve got co-pilots.” Cleven finished for him with a maddening smirk that made Benny Demarco throw his hands up.

“Can you check him?” he asked, “I mean -you are a nurse!”

“What? Hell no!” Major Cleven spooked for the first time all day at the suggestion, glancing quickly from his reddened trousers, behind him to Maureen Kendeigh, and back again. “I’m fine.” he declared in a firm tone that dettered her almost as much as the challenge of getting over the instruments and a steering column to pull down his pants and look. “Ensign Kendeigh, was there a purpose to your visit?” He redirected, resolutely ignoring Demarco’s unabated concerns.

“Yes sir,” she replied, meekly as she could, “Doc Egan asked me to remind you that you’re not flying a bomber. To mind the oxygen, sir. And that it’s cold.”

Cleven let out a mirthless little laugh. “We’re full of holes Ensign, of course it’s cold.”

“I know sir.”

“Yeah, ‘course you know,” his eyes lightened for a moment and Maureen almost deluded herself he was being chummy when he murmured next, “you’re smart like that. Tell the Lieutenant Commander I’ll keep her nice and low, so low the Jap navy gunners can blow the floor out without a sweat.”

“Thank you, Major.” Maureen chirped, pleased to have been trusted with a bit of morbid humor -it was the truest test of being taken seriously a woman could hope for in the service.

“Thank you, Ensign.” And with that she was dismissed.

[underqualified-human]

More Dialogue Prompts:

"Wow, you shouldn't have. Like- morally you shouldn't have."

"Taylor Swift was right, bandaids really don't fix bullet holes." "Oh God, I'm going to bleed to death."

"You're going to do great things, but you're just going to have to do them without me."

"That was a typo." "This is a verbal conversation."

"Hell yeah, baby speak science to me."

"Not everyone can be sad, bisexual and full of human blood."

"The last thing they wanted was to see the stars. It's the only thing I can think about when I look up at night."

Sources:

First= Diregentleman YouTube - TERRIBLE Two Sentence Horror Stories (ft. Addison Peacock) Fifth= Me talking about Doc Ock to my friends Sixth= Addison Peacock Seventh= Inspired by the end of Carrie

[inglourious-imagines]

Hello! I'm so glad to have stumbled on your blog! I'd like to request anything for Doc Bryan of GenKill please. I can and will wait forever for any Doc content 😅 I saw your prompt list and I think

1. I fucking hate everyone. But you, you’re the only person I don’t hate.

would suit him quite well HAHA but prompt number 3 and prompt number 9 would be quite sweet too 😁 anyway, anything you write I will gratefully read and love. Thanks so much!

Life Vest (Doc Bryan x GN!Reader)

Requested by: anon

Prompt: #1 - I fucking hate everyone. But you, you're the only person I don't hate.

Summary: You're a Corpsman with the Recon Marines, working alongside doc Bryan. After one tough afternoon, you two finally (somewhat ;)) talk.

Taglist: in my bio

Warnings: child's death although it doesn't actually happen in this fic

A/N: I don't study medicine so I might have fucked up some facts about certain things so apologies if I did. Thank you for your request!

.

.

.

With every passing second, more and more locals are appearing, surrounding the group of Marines in the middle of some Iraqi town almost none of them know how to actually pronounce. From behind the cornerns of ruins of old buildings, out of the beaten doors of houses that hadn't been bombed yet, from small huts, children, women, men of all ages are coming to see what is happening.

The small area is slowly getting too crowded to have it under control and Lt. Fick is pacing around the scene unfolding before his eyes with apparent unease. US Marines are stationed around the place, but all of them know it is not enough. 

Fick waves his left hand and within a second he has Brad Colbert by his side, awaiting orders. 

"Get Bryan and Y/N out of there. We can't handle this anymore. We need to be Oscar Mike ASAP."

Brad only nods and he's already pushing his way through the crowd that seems to be made of concrete rather than people, as the young soldier struggles to advance forward.

In the centre of it all, kneeling on the ground, with blood soaked into the sand, are the two exhausted Corpsmen. 

"The children are going to die here." Bryan states matter-of-factly without even looking up, while he's bandaging the young boy who can't be more than seven years old. 

You know that but the words still send a chill down your spine, but you continue working too, without the apparent pointlessness of the reality to stop you.

You always know the facts after observing the situation, just like Bryan does, but you've never been able to announce it with such distance and certain cold even, even though you know it is necessary. 

Robert Timothy Bryan is a straightforward man, a trait useful in the Corps and you've learned over the time to report the situation to your superior officers, but you still lack that sort of Bryaness and you probably always will. 

You allow yourself to steal a glance at him. He's concentrated at the work before him, as he always is, the look of focus in his eyes more visible than ever. His face doesn't show any other emotion much, but you know he's exhausted beyond words, physically and mentally, although he would never admit to that out loud. 

You come back to the little boy under your arms. He has two fractured ribs, that are causing him great pain but you are simply unable to do anything about it, he has one bad scratch on his left arm and a deep cut on his thigh - there is no serious bleeding and it is apparent that it must have been some time since he got wounded.

You cut off a part of his trousers to get a better access to the wound and you immediately notice the bloody spots and bruises. 

You pick up your gaze to look at Bryan to find him already staring at you. You both know what this means, there is no need to say it out loud.

You look back down at the little boy, there are tears in his brown eyes and suddenly there's a lump in your throat. You desperately want to help the kid, but no matter what you do, nothing will be enough. The blood poisoning will kill him, you don't know when, he has only some hours to live tops, if he's lucky, and so far his fate has played a cruel game with him.

Then his little hand reaches for yours and you instinctively squeeze it. You hear in the background some voice saying something, you don't know what, you're too caught up in the moment that suddenly nothing matters anymore and the eyes of the boy make you question if this is really your war, if it really isn't your presence that will got him killed eventually.

In your peripheral vision you catch Bryan standing up and patting someone on the shoulder but you stop paying attention to that right away.

The boy is saying something now you don't understand but you just know he's begging you to help him. And you can't. 

"I know," you hear yourself say, "I know and I'm sorry."

Useless words. Empty. Meaningless.

A woman kneels down before you, scooping the boy in her arms. His hand falls out of yours and it breaks your heart. He looks just like the woman, both of them with deep brown eyes, soft features, thick brown hair. 

She nods. An understanding. 

You wouldn't be able to tell her that her son will die in her arms, probably tonight. 

There is a soft tap on your shoulder. You turn your head slightly. 

"We have to go," Bryan is whispering into your ear, his hand still resting on your shoulder. You lean into his touch for comfort and you convince yourself it is everything you need in order to pull yourself together.

You don't look at the boy anymore. You can't. You stand up to follow your fellow Corpsman and without any warning, he reaches behind himself for your hand. He grabs it to not lose you in the crowd.

And you hold onto it like it's a life vest. Perhaps it is everything you need to pull through this war, perhaps he is.

---

Later that day, when you stop for the night, you can't sleep. You can see those helpless eyes of that boy every time you close your eyes.

This, most definitely, is not your first encounter with wounded locals you couldn't save, as it is not your last, but this one stays with you, no matter how much you fight it. 

"Good work today, Y/N," you can hear Bryan's voice behind you. He sits on the ground next to you, shoulders and knees touching, and finally his affection towards you surprises you. You were too caught up in those moments before to notice how much he actually looks after you. 

"If you say so," you respond, not sharing his opinion. You feel like you failed today. 

"I know so," he counters, nudging you softly with his side. You finally smile.

You wait for him to bring up the boy incident but he doesn't speak one word of it and you're more than grateful. You couldn't talk about it if you tried. Maybe in a few years, but not today, and Bryan knows this, even if you don't. 

"You're awfully nice to me lately," you decide to keep the conversation going, turning your head to look at him for just a moment.

He chuckles at that, a sound you haven't heard enough and could easily get drunk on. "I'm nice to everyone." 

You burst out laughing at his answer, as all those cold stares and snarky comments of his come to your mind. 

He joins in, smiling. "That felt wrong just to say it."

"Tell me about it."

"I just-" he surpises you when he continues, "I just fucking hate everyone." 

You stop laughing and your heart drops a little but Bryan is still talking. "But you? You're the only person I don't hate." 

You're so caught off guard that you can't find anything to say back to that as your own capibility to talk fails you. The words hang above you both, you savour the feeling because you finally don't feel so alone in the vast world.

Something clicks in you when he says those words and you're smiling now, you couldn't stop smiling if you wanted to.

You grab his hand and squeeze it, you don't let go of him, you can't now. 

"I don't hate you too," you finally respond and you don't have to look at him to know he's smiling now too. 

[bucketspammer4life]

random punch out headcanons for the soul because eughhhhhh

i need me some inspo, INSPO!!!

- bald bull actually makes those bull sounds unintentionally, it kinda runs in his family and has been with him since his childhood

- super macho man pretends to be suprised by people telling him he looks old (even though hes dilfbaiting) and acts offended by it when he actually sees it as a good thing

- Glass Joe used to work as a receptionist in a hospital before his boxing career, And by that i mean the kind that just chews gum and wouldnt give a shit if you came in bleeding to death, minus the long nails and dangly earings

- whenever aran sees a Hippo or anything Hippo-themed he just goes "OH MY GOD KING HIPPO İS HERE!" And its become an ongoing joke within the wvba

- von kaiser prefers cold food to warm food, he just kinda likes how it tastes

- Disco kid's voice cracks a lot thanks to him going to concerts often & screaming his soul out, my man changes between 4 pitches while trying to talk to anyone

- mr sandman sometimes casually rips off his locker door when hes pissed, not "im going to murder someone" kind of pissed but "i need to throw something" kind of pissed, his locker door just turns to dust whenever someone breathes too hard on it now

- soda popinski used to make "potions" during his childhood like 99% of us, the only difference is he actually drank those

- Doc Louis once accidentally dated Mac's biology teacher, when Mac found out he lost his shit (in the meaning that hes both mad & finds it funny) but it didnt work out and now biology class for Mac is way more awkward now

- don flamenco once ate a entire pack of strawberry flavored melatonin gummies without realizing it, slept for 1 day and a half

- gabby jay has a basement full of weird stuff, going from vintage record players to an organ with 3 Disco balls for some reason

- heike sends positive good morning messages in any groupchat hes in, with the sparkly effects & flowers and stuff

- hoy quarlow can actually play the piano, he uses it to his advantage to scare people during halloween, imagine this: some sweet old man looking like a fossil is just casually approaching a piano before unleashing so much talent that every composer in their graves start crying

[darkprincerunaway]

After the fight

Happy birthday to Bucky Barnes! Here is my AU Stucky story based on this wonderful art: https://www.tumblr.com/reblog/kaciart/85484606903/YhKPirqc Thanks to my ever-beloved collaborator Yuliya Katsnelson who did the translation.

***

The day was just the pits. Honestly, the pits of hell.

There was no choice whether to fight or not. Nor was there any time to prepare, collect intelligence, put together a plan, inform the team and wait for backup – hell, even to get enough fire power! – not a minute to spare. Without any warning, a ghostly maw of a portal into some clearly hostile reality gaped open – and the only option was to jump into it, even at the risk of a one-way trip. Jump, stand fast, and fight to the death against whatever was trying to invade our good old Earth.

Standing to the death – just the two of us – because there was no one else. The planet had had really good luck (although for them it was possibly the opposite) that right next to the portal, completely by accident, happened to be two super soldiers.

How tired they were! How hesitant initially, before they forced the portal to close; before they traversed the tunnel to the end and ripped the heads off the dirtbags that had opened the portal in the first place; before they made it back, not really knowing how.

The place from which they had left and to which they returned was nice; quiet; peaceful. Green grass, sunny skies. The training course was empty, thankfully; they had come to “play tag”, just the two of them; they booked this time slot so they wouldn’t be distracted by anyone. Those who didn’t get that time slot were truly lucky. The maw-portal would have gobbled up anyone who happened to be nearby. That is, anyone but the two of them. They proved to be too big a bite for it.

Which didn’t stop it from giving it its best shot.

“To the doctors?” lying on his back, arms stretched out wide, staring at the fluffy small clouds asked Steve. He wasn’t worried about himself, although his left cheek was lacerated below the helmet, and his wrist was dislocated: his shield got stuck in the spine of one of the monsters, and he had to knock out the other that got too close with his bare fist.

“The hell with them,” said Bucky, lying next to him. “The hell with the docs. I wanna go home.”

“But Buck…”

“Go… home,” Buck repeated distinctly, his tone implacable.

Grunting like two crotchety old men (who they were, technically), they sat up on the ground. Steve did his best to wipe the slime off his shield with handfuls of grass, while Bucky tied off his bleeding thigh with an equipment belt.

“Home,” Barnes repeated when, holding onto each other, they limped towards the vehicle outside the testing course, like a wounded quadruped. “You drive.” And he closed his eyes, slumping over the front passenger seat like a black-and-red blob.

***

Ouch, it hurt.

“Give me your hand, dammit!” Bucky cursed hoarsely, leaning against the corridor wall. “My stuff is drying up, relax. You go first.”

With joint effort, they managed to pull the jacket sleeve off Rogers’ wrist before taking off the rest of his protective suit. Then they got rid of Bucky’s armor in the same fashion.

“To the shower,” Steve asked, biting his lips.

“Sure. As long as you don’t hit on me,” Barns joked darkly, leaning back against the wall. All holes in their hides should have closed up by now, after all the time that’d passed, but no. Devil knew whether the teeth of the damned monsters sank too deep as they were tearing protective suits to shreds, or the saliva that got into the wounds slowed the effect of the serum. The leg and shoulder began bleeding again, as soon as the tourniquets were removed.

Warm water running over the pair’s head and shoulders, washing away grime and fatigue, and relieving the muscle stiffness just a little. Bucky closed his eyes and leaned his head back on to Steve’s shoulder who, with his inactive hand tucked between his side and Bucky’s bionics, awkwardly moved the sponge over his chest, belly, and battered and bruised ribcage. Barnes also had to wash Steve with one arm: on the other, the monster’s fangs had torn a decent chunk of fresh out of the bicep.

They make their way to the bedroom still supporting one another and use two out of their four hands to get dressed. An overstatement, really: Steve manages to pull on sweats and a T-shirt, while Bucky, mindful of the assortment of dressings we’d need, only puts on his boxer shorts. Stupid all of it, just stupid: as if they are embarrassed of each other; as if they’ve never seen each other naked and just out of the shower and in general… It’s as though they are still out of it after the skirmish and want some illusion of bodily protection.

They put a fresh bandage on Bucky’s shoulder; Bucky sets Steve’s wrist, then puts a Band-Aid over his cheekbone; Rogers gets down on one knee and begins to put a wide dressing on Barnes’ thigh. And that’s where one of Rogers’ quirks kicks in. In a fight, he is cool-headed, decisive, and sharp – but afterwards, when it’s all over, it comes over him. Images of everything that could have happened but didn’t pierce him like dozens of fléchettes, making him shake and tremble from the backlash of the past and avoided danger. And here he goes again, reliving everything they’d been through. As Bucky, sparing with their limited ammo, again and again engages the monsters in close combat; as he, a sniper – more used to providing Steve fire cover from a distance! – attacks the filth advancing on the Captain from the flanks and the back. That’s how he came by the injuries Steve was just dressing…

And, no longer able to hold it in, to restrain himself, Rogers presses his forehead, his cheek – his very self – against Bucky’s hip, and then, still kneeling before him, kisses the dumbfounded Barnes practically into the wound under the dressing.

***

Bucky stares down at Steve.

What is he to do with him like this, huh?

The right thing to do is to let him get it all out of his system, catch his breath; bury his fingers in Steve’s short golden locks at the top of his head and stroke the sculp until he calms down.

The former, long-ago Bucky from Brooklyn would have done something like that.

That former, long-ago Bucky, who was no more, had generally been a man who did the right thing.

The post-Winter Barnes, as he is now, has a far more complex relationship with what is right. And with many other things, too.

And this – what he is feeling now, what flows through his veins and pulsates in his temples and in the back of his head – is one of those things.

James Buchanan Barnes remembers being Winter Soldier. He remembers the fighting and the missions. The tension, the adrenaline in his blood boiled during fighting then as it does now: they hadn’t completely succeeded in making him into a machine, after all. But as for the targets of those missions, he didn’t care at all. When necessary, he would interact with agents or fighters, with those he was supposed to protect or cover, but they held no interest to him as individual; never – neither during missions, nor afterwards – did he care about what happened to them then or later.

But now, it wasn’t like that.

When it is Steve he covers, James feels fire in his belly. Oh yes, of course, Captain America is no less of a super soldier he is, even more perfect than him. Of course, Steven Grant Rogers is good at and is used to fighting; of course, these wounds are mere scratches to this huge war machine, they will heal in a matter of hours. Sometimes, what matters most is what they are fighting for: just like today, no price for stopping the enemy would have been too high to pay.

James Buchanan Barnes understands all this – and he accepts, like he always has, Rogers’ right and duty to go into battle. But “this isn’t a back alley fight, Steve, it’s war!” – and the former Winter Soldier knows everything about war. Sometimes people get killed, even on the verge of victory. And this knowledge drives James berserk. Oh, how he has wished he had one hundred arms, like the Giant Briareus, every one of them holding a weapon or, like Zeus, turn into a lightning cloud and envelop Steve safely inside!

But no, he can only do what he can do.

And therefore, he, too, is overcome after the battle. Not like Steve, with trembling from the backlash. He is overtaken by a powerful need to feel that both of them are alright. That they made it out alive and would live. Right now, in this very moment. And he needs to feel it all, not just know it.

He can keep himself in check, hold the burning need inside, hide it. And it would not be all that difficult: he is so very tired. He is battered, his ribs, shoulders, and legs bruised, his thigh aching, the wound above his elbow throbbing like an impacted tooth. To crawl under the blanket, to close his eyes, and he’d be out like a light…

Bucky falls backwards on the bed, dragging Steve over himself, presses him close, one arm around him. Chest to chest, cheek to cheek, skin to skin. Hearing Steve’s breathing with his ears, his even warmth, his unbroken pulse with his fingers.

And their life – with all of himself.

[no1sexymansimp]

His guardian angel

‘Note to self; Never owe shit to Bain’ you thought to yourself for the seventh time since you grabbed the emergency bag and floored it on your motorbike. Luckily since seemingly the entirety of the police force was at the robbery you didn’t have to avoid any attempt to stop you for the obvious speeding. 

You had owed Bain a favour after he essentially blackmailed you. As a nurse you had taken the hippocratic oath, you had taken the vows to heart; “I will abstain from all intentional wrong-doing and harm”, and you did. You helped the worst of humanity because you had to. You sucked it up, packed it away and ignored the guilt of the job. Of declaring the time of death of a sweet little girl to her family just minutes before having to care fo the intoxicated driver that took her life. God may judge you for what you did to that monster but his sins will far outweigh your own.

You was sloppy in my execution, leaving behind evidence, making you the main suspect and you would’ve been convicted if it wasn’t for him. Bain had made an offer you couldn’t refuse. To clear you of your actions and prove your “innocence” on the condition that you supply medical equipment and help to the Payday gang whenever needed.

That brings us to where you are now, flooring down a highway with Bain yelling the whole way, directing you to a vacant alleyway near the bank before you threw yourself off your bike and ran to the back of the building not even taking the time to remove the your helmet.

“Alright gang, Doc’s here. I’m sending them to the security room. Do not shoot” Bain chimes in after you duck through a broken window. 

Despite Bain’s clear instructions, the moment you entered the security room you immediately get a face, well more like visor, full of pistol and see two of the most goofiest looking masks you’ve ever seen. This barely lasted a few seconds before Bain quickly responses again

“That’s them, Jacket. Do not kill them” The one with the goofiest looking rubber chicken mask you’ve ever seen lowered his gun slightly

You paid no mind to this as you immediately snapped your attention to the one slouched and bleeding heavily, ‘Hoxton’ your mind supplies. You promptly assess his injuries, sliding off the emergency medical bag off your should and unpacking the necessary equipment within minutes. Multiple deep lacerations, 3 gunshot wounds and most likely blunt force trauma to the head judging from the excessive bleeding pouring from under his mask. You reach up to remove the aforementioned mask, being stopped by a hand snatching your wrist and yanking it away. You looked back to see Jacket staring at you, tightening his grip on your wrist and the pistol in his other hand.

“I just need to remove his mask to check for head injuries and for a possible concussion”, he loosened his grip slightly, “You can guard the door to keep everyone else away” and with that he stood guard by the door and you could continue your work.

You resume removing his mask before beginning to attend to his other injures to improve his breathing, as you removed it he groaned and slowly blinked into consciousness. You doused some gauze in rubbing alcohol before pressing it into the gun wound in his leg, you felt slightly bad since you knew this hurts like a motherfucker but you just put that feeling into another box in the back of your mind.

While you continue to clean and wrap his wounds you ask him questions, keeping him awake and checking for a concussion.

“Can you tell me your name hun?” You tightly wrap the wound on his thigh, continuing on to the next injury

“It’s Hoxton- fuck- you’re the Doc Bain mentioned?” He tried to pull himself to a more up right position but you rested your hand on his shoulder lightly pushing him back to his original position without taking your eyes off what you were doing

You continue with the questions as you worked your way through the injuries, “The one and only, what do you remember doing before I got here”

“Fixing that stupid fucking piece of shit drill” He chuckled despite groaning immediately afterwards after aggravating his injuries. 

His speech was slightly slurred although he doesn’t have a concussion, lucky him.

You reached up to tilt his head in order to gain better access to his head injury, softly holding the connecting area of his jaw and his throat. You reach over to grab another alcohol wipe before you notice him nodding off. As soon as you noticed, you softly tap his face until he woke again.

“‘Cmon love, you need to stay awake. We’re almost done alright?” You clean the laceration on his head as gently as you can, “Name something you can see”

He went silent for a moment before laughing to himself, “An angel” 

You’ve been beside enough people on their death bed to recognize the distant and serene expression he had. The same look patients had when they’re beckoned to the afterlife by a guardian angel, a loved one sometimes patients have even mentioned seeing the grim reaper. You weren’t going to let him die, not that easily. You still owe it to Bain and by God were you going to repay it.

In a moment of sheer panic and desperation you roughly grab his jaw and flicked your visor up forcing him to make eye contact with you 

“NO. Do not follow the angel. You are mine. Not theirs. Mine. You don’t get to leave, you are stuck with me and I chose when you die, alright?” You hold Hoxton a bit closer and subconsciously leaned in closer to inspect his expression, watching his expression shift from serene to a look of almost child-like giddiness 

His speech became more slurred as he was fighting to stay conscious, “But they’re soooo preettty n’ waaarrm” 

“I don’t care, they can’t have you. They have no claim over you. Do you understand?”, Words kept falling out of your mouth due to how anxious you were

He said nothing but nodded along anyways, his eyes were dilated, ears bright red and you tuck two fingers underneath his jaw to check his heart rate. It was beginning to spike up, most likely due to adrenaline. 

Hoxton was honesty fucking confused when he first awoke to a stranger in a biker fit and after years of being touch starved, kinda just basked in your undivided attention as you tended to his injuries while he was too out of it to think properly. It was probably the severe blood loss convincing him to shoot his shot while he had the chance since despite Bain mentioning you in passing often you were never seen in the safe house nor had anyone ever met you, well till now at least. 

He had not expected such a visceral reaction when he called you an angel, but he’d be a filthy fucking liar if he said your words didn’t have an affect on him. His words caught in his throat while he stared into your eyes, admiring how your eyes narrow and how your brows and nose scrunched as you stared into his soul. 

While you finished cleaning his wound and wrapping it up while he just listened as your words replay in his head like a loop. It was a constant repeat of you staking your claim on him. He’s probably lost it, with years of bloodshed, stress and head injuries he was probably more fucked in the head then he’d like to admit. At the end of the day was he really that far gone if you’d lay your claim on him first. It was only fair if he was yours then you were rightfully his as well. 

He tuned out his teammates and Bain while you helped transfer him to the escape van when the heist was done. After hauling him into the back, you were about to return back to your bike but was interrupted when he grabbed you again. 

“Everything fuckin hurts” 

“I know, hun. There’s meds at the safehouse and we can properly treat your injuries there”, While you spoke you tried to get out of his hold to get to your bike, but he kept groaning in pain whenever he moved. 

A bleeding heart brought you into this situation, a strong sense of empathy being your achille’s heel. Even though you both were going to the same location, you now felt guilty for “leaving” him. With a sigh you turned around and called to the rest of the gang

“Anyone know how to ride a bike?”

Immediately another heister, ‘Sydney’ from what you overheard, perked up, “Abso-fucking-lutely” and caught the keys you threw in her direction barely giving her a second before pulling your helmet off to toss to her. While Sydney already had a mask, she cant drive around with that shit out unless she wanted to drag the entire police force with her. You return while Hoxton continues to stare at you while you try to keep him conscious during the trip

You settle in the back of the van next to him while he continued to hold onto you. His guardian angel

[savemefromanepicoftimewasted]

The Angels Are Not Ready For You Pt. 1

Joel Miller X F!Reader

Joel couldn’t let Ellie know things were going catastrophically, lest he have her start worrying even more. Shit, Joel was most likely going to end up staying awake to make sure you didn’t die throughout the night. Then again it wouldn’t be the first time someone had died on Joel’s watch. a/n:I've had this fic in my docs for MONTHS, and honestly it might be one of my personal favorites, as always feedback is much appreciated! warnings:mentions of violence, gore, near death experiences, blood, mentions of stab wounds, if i missed anything please let me know!

You were running, adrenaline pumping through your veins as you tried to escape being murdered by the goddamn teenager that managed to get the upper hand on you. It wasn’t as if you were acting like an idiot when the two of you crossed paths, she just happened to have a better knife. The wound in your side had been bleeding profusely, and if you didn’t make it back to your safe zone you would surely be dying on the side of the road. She’d managed to get all of the food you scavenged, over three months worth of food absolutely gone in the blink of an eye because you were too stupid. The blood loss was suddenly making you woozy, shit this meant you wouldn’t be able to keep going unless you finally took a look at the wound.

“Just gotta patch myself up, then I can keep going,” You had originally been running because of hunters nearby, but getting stabbed because a kid got the better of you really took the cake for shittiest day imaginable.

You turned towards one of the closest houses, hoping and praying there weren’t any clickers inside roaming around the barren bones of it. Luck seemed to finally be on your side as you stepped inside and it was completely silent. Hunters tended to stalk houses like this which made hiding from them even harder. Dropping your bag onto the floor you slowly peeled up your shirt grimacing at how sticky your shirt had become. This was how you were going to die, not by a clicker or a hunter but by a kid looking to steal your food.

“Shit,” Blood was pouring down your side, soaking into the waist of your jeans as you tried and failed to slow the bleeding.

What if the girl was with those hunters and they were now on the way to find you so they could finish you off? It wouldn’t be a quick and painless death, there was no way any man would willingly let you live without causing some of the most horrific pain to your body first. God this day couldn’t get any damn worse. With a grunt and a drawn out sigh you bandaged up the wound as best you could given the circumstances. If you could keep it from getting infected over the next few days you would be fine, just need to ride out the worst of the pain. 

Ellie wasn’t sure how Joel would react to seeing the pack of food she’d stolen from one of the hunters, considering how she’d managed to snag it while the other person was struggling to gain their footing. They were making their way back to Tommy’s compound to see if there was any chance they would be allowed to stay. There wasn’t a doubt in Ellie’s mind that Tommy wouldn’t welcome them with open arms, the brothers had gone too long without seeing one another for things to end badly.

“Hey, I managed to find some food earlier, should be enough to feed us for a while,” Ellie wasn’t going to mention how she got it, lest Joel freak out about her nearly getting killed by someone.

Joel’s head snapped up at the mention of food, it had been nearly a week since the pair had been able to eat anything remotely filling so the promise of food was a godsend. They could settle down to eat something and make the rest of the trek to Tommy’s place. It was still at least another ten miles before they reached the compound, and heading out on a full belly was much better than an empty one.

“Why don’t we find somewhere to make camp for the night and we’ll eat, that way we can keep guard in case,” Joel was looking around at the surrounding buildings, surely there was something closed off enough where they could sleep.

Ellie pointed over to one of the abandoned houses that was nearby, the windows hadn’t been broken which was a good sign that no infected were inside. He nodded his head and they both headed off to inspect the building thoroughly. There was nothing worse than assuming you were safe and having some asshole sneak up on you. There hadn’t been many instances on the way back to Jackson, something Joel was thankful for every day they traveled. Joel went into the house first, gun held tight in his right hand while his left held onto the flashlight.

He was about to yell back towards Ellie, to let her know that it was safe inside and there weren’t any hunters or infected hanging around. That was until he caught sight of a woman huddling down in the kitchen. Shit that meant the hungers were outsmarting him and nearly able to get the jump on both he and Ellie without either of them realizing til it was too late. He’d have to take care of them without Ellie realizing what he was up to.

Tiptoeing out towards the kitchen Joel rounded the kitchen island, gun drawn high as he stared down at the woman by his feet. His throat seemed to tighten, there was no way in hell that you were sitting in front of him, hand clutching your side as you stared back at him. Ellie apparently had gotten annoyed with Joel being too quiet and made her presence known. Your head whipped to where she’d stopped, fear was written all over your face. Had the two of you met and Joel was unaware?

“Please, just let me go,” You pushed away from the pair, ignoring the searing pain in your side as you stared back at the man you’d loved so long ago.

“Hey, we’re not gonna hurt ya, why don’t you come back with us?” Joel knelt down, holding out his left hand, the right currently held back towards Ellie so she wouldn’t come any closer.

Neither Ellie, nor Joel could say anything before you were off the floor and out the back door. You were determined to get somewhere safe, somewhere you could hide without the fear of being murdered. Joel didn’t hesitate to take off after you, yelling your name as you ran into a nearby building. Joel was internally cursing his knees for being so weak as he took off after you, he needed to catch up to you before you reached the school. That place was crawling with clickers, and the occasional stalker in the empty building.

“Y/N!” Joel halted to a stop the moment his body slammed into the doors you’d managed to slip through. 

There were no less than five clickers standing around the open gym in front of him, shit there was no way either of you were going to survive in this room for very long. Ellie nearly slammed into his back, stopping just seconds before colliding against the older man. Joel could just barely make out your silhouette, your hand was still clutching your side, your skin stained an ugly red. There was something about your face that brought back memories he’d thought were long since buried. Ellie was already making her way over to you, stilling in place whenever a clicker even so much as glanced towards the two of you. 

Joel wanted to yell at her that this was something beyond reckless and the three of you needed to get out of there as soon as possible. They would be much safer where it was easier to see their enemies, and right now that wasn’t the damn case. Tears were streaming down your face as Ellie finally reached where’d been trying to hide. She didn’t say a word, simply held a finger up to her lips before turning back towards Joel and making her way back. You followed slowly behind her, making sure to avoid anything on the floor that would give you both away. Joel had been holding his breath the entire time, afraid that if he breathed too hard it would alert every single clicker.

Joel held the doors as you and Ellie made your exit, he let go of the doors slowly to avoid them clanging together and gathering the attention of the clickers. Had there been hunters inside he’d have done this differently and let the doors slam loud enough to make sure no one else made it out alive. That wasn’t the current case though, and Joel wasn’t as heartless as he made himself out to be.

“Please let me go, you can have the fucking food,” Your hands had begun to shake uncontrollably, this was the beginning of the end for you.

“Food? Wait, Ellie is this who you got the food from?” Joel spun around to stare down the teenager.

“I thought she was with those hunters!” Ellie threw her hands up, refusing to take responsibility for protecting herself.

Joel could understand where she was coming from, though it didn’t settle the pit that was currently lodged in his stomach. He turned back to where you were trying, and struggling, to keep yourself upright. You’d clearly lost a lot of blood if the amount spread across your torso was any indication. He wouldn’t have much time to get you stitched up if they continued to wait any longer.

“We have a camp nearby, at least let me patch you up,” Joel wasn’t sure you’d recognized him, you hadn’t mentioned anything since he yelled your name earlier.

“I’m really sorry about stabbing you, it’s been a long year and I wasn’t sure I could trust you,” Ellie didn’t apologize easily, not after what happened at the hospital.

Joel hadn’t wanted to tell her the truth, to keep that lie buried so deep inside his chest it would never see the light of day again, unfortunately that was never the case. Unfortunately life had another idea when it came to Joel’s life and happiness. Ellie hadn’t spoken to him for months after she found out, blaming Joel for taking away her choice in the matter. Things were still tense, but at least the pair of them could have a civil conversation without the other lashing out. Unfortunately that didn’t seem to be the case with the three of you sitting together in a circle, Ellie was watching Joel like a hawk.

“I always knew you’d find a way to survive in this hellhole we call our new normal,” You didn’t give any fight when Joel wrapped his arm around you.

“I could say the same thing about you, you always refused to back down no matter what it took,” Joel had thought of you all the time, wondering if you had managed to survive the way he had.

Had you joined a group of hunters, or were you one of the lucky people that traveled alone to attract less attention? How could he even bring up the things he’d done in his past knowing he’d left you behind, breaking off that bond like it meant absolutely nothing to him. The two of you had met in the Boston QZ a few years after Joel had arrived, Tommy running off to join the fireflies like a damn moron. He couldn’t fault his brother for that though, he wanted to make a difference in the world.

“I left the QZ a few months after you did, they were killing so many innocent people and I just couldn’t keep wondering if I’d be the next victim,” You’d watched so many people you once called friends be murdered in the streets, it was sickening.

Joel kept his mouth shut, he couldn’t imagine how much worse the QZ could get after witnessing the horrors he had for so long. Children meant absolutely nothing to the Fedra soldiers, the bodies turning into ash by the end of the day. He thought of Sarah each and every time he picked up a body that was too small to be burned, her body still buried in Texas. You’d mentioned your brother once or twice to Joel, quickly changing the subject after a few brief words. Kids were always going to be a sore topic that no one wanted to touch, and now with him taking care of Ellie he kept that box sealed tight.

“We’re actually heading back to see my brother, he’s got himself a nice little compound about ten miles west,” Joel wasn’t even sure you could make it another hundred yards in your condition, but dammit he wasn’t about to lose someone else he’d cared about.

“How’s he doing? Haven’t seen him since he took off after Marlene gave him that ultimatum,” You were resting almost all of your weight against Joel’s side, fingers barely grasping onto the fabric of his shirt.

“He’s doing pretty well for himself all things considered, I’ll make sure the two of you can catch up,” Joel ignored the flutter in his stomach, thinking about you coming back to the compound with him and Ellie.

Ellie was oddly quiet beside you and Joel, hands tucked into the pockets of her hoodie as if she was afraid to speak up anymore. Joel knew she was simply trying to protect herself, lord knows they’d had to do it more often than either of them were proud of. Joel was silently thankful she never had to witness what he’d done at the hospital, it was either him or them. What if Ellie was going to tell you everything he’d done in the last few months? Killing anyone who so much as tried to step on his toes. Would you forgive him for his past actions, or would you realize what a monster he truly was deep down?

“Joel, I think we need to stop for the night,” Joel wanted to ask why Ellie seemed so nervous before he realized why, you were dead weight against him, legs dragging as he stumbled towards the safe house.

“Shit, Ellie go ahead and make sure the house is clear,” Time was running out and goddamnit he wasn’t about to bury someone else.

Reaching down to hoist you into his arms Joel’s anxiety began to rise, your breathing was shallow and harsh. He’d known about what happened but how deep had Ellie cut you? Maybe once they got back to Tommy’s he could see if there was a nurse, or a doctor to help. He wasn’t as spry as he’d once been, and right now he was struggling to even carry you to the house. Shit, this was going to be a long damn day and Joel wasn’t ready to deal with any of the consequences right now.

“It’s clear!” Ellie knew that any type of noise would attract the wrong kind of attention, even if Joel was beyond caring at this point he knew better than to yell back.

Joel laid you down onto the couch the moment everyone was inside, checking over the wound that hadn’t started to clot. He ripped open his pack, reaching for a rag to help staunch the blood that was slowly dripping down your side. Ellie was silently freaking out behind him, gathering up anything she could that could help. Joel could only hope that Ellie had managed to miss any vital organs when she stabbed you.

“C’mon, see if you can wake her so we can get some food and water in ‘er,” Joel would deny any accusation that he’d begun to panic, Joel Miller did not panic.

“I’m really sorry Joel,” Her hands were shaking almost violently, the same girl who could handle a rifle almost perfectly was scared.

Joel didn’t put any of his attention towards Ellie, there wasn’t anything he could say without sounding angry. He’d done enough emotional damage to the teenager as it was, right now they needed to focus on making sure you were alright. Blood was soaking through the rag faster than Joel could stop it. He’d lost so many people, Sarah, Tess, Frank and Bill, had nearly lost Ellie more times than he’d been able to keep track of.

“C’mon baby, I know you can keep fighting,” Joel refused to look at his hands, the way your blood was caked between the lines of his fingers.

“Let me stitch her up, it’ll stop the bleeding for now,” Ellie was by his side in a matter of seconds, startling him for a brief moment before his eyes locked on her.

It would be a risky move to take the pressure off your wound, but without closing the wound you’d surely bleed out before they could help you. Joel slowly lifted the rag frowning at how big the wound seemed to be. Ellie must’ve snuck a new knife the last time they’d been able to stock up on supplies. It had been a near jackpot with how much they’d been able to grab and throw into their packs. Food had been the only issue when it came to their adventure back to Tommy’s commune, and right now he wasn’t sure the food Elle had attempted to steal from you was worth it. Back to the point at hand, making sure you didn’t bleed out while Ellie stitched up your wound. She’d had to stitch Joel back when he was stabbed last winter, taking care of him to make sure he didn’t succumb to the warm embrace of death.

Your skin was covered in a light sheen of sweat, hands shaking slightly as you laid otherwise limp against the couch. The next best thing would be to get some medicine and food in you, the wound couldn’t get infected no matter what. Joel brushed a few strands of hair away from your face, checking to make sure you weren’t hurt besides the obvious wound.

“Do you think they’ll make it to Tommy’s?” Ellie had learned to bury her fear deep down, not letting anyone know how scared she truly was. Not after Sam.

“As long as she stays stable through the night we’ll be fine,” Joel wasn’t entirely sure whether or not you were even going to survive the next few hours.

It was going to be a waiting game for the next twelve hours, if you couldn’t fight to survive you’d be just another unmarked grave along the way. Thankfully the weather was warm enough that they wouldn’t need to keep you covered with blankets to stave off the cold, Joel knew all too well how horrible that was.

“I’m going to scour the area a little more, keep an eye and make sure nothing happens to her please,” Joel kept his gaze on Ellie, he knew the moment he so much as glanced at you he’d refuse to leave the safety of the house.

Ellie nodded at him, cleaning around your wound before taping gauze around it with the little supplies they had left. She put most of the blame on herself, had she just grabbed your bag and ran none of this would’ve happened and Joel wouldn’t be paranoid. Things had been going fine for so long, why the hell did this have to happen? If you died Joel wouldn’t forgive her at all, not after seeing the way Joel looked at you when he thought she wasn’t aware. Your eyes were fluttering behind closed lids, shit what if you were having a nightmare and ended up thrashing to the point the stitches ripped?

Before Ellie could open her mouth to yell for Joel your hand clamped over her mouth, silencing her entirely. She didn’t fight back, your wound had to have been screaming in pain as you kept a tight grip on the teenager. Shit what if Joel came back inside and thought you’d been infected and managed to turn when his back was turned?

“Where is he?” Your voice was weak, strength waning as you waited for Joel to come back inside.

“He’s doing patrol, does it everyday to make sure we’re safe,” Ellie was truly terrified in that moment, how much longer would she be in this position?

“Shit, of course he does,” You could vaguely remember the way Joel had hardly slept at times, too paranoid that Fedra would be busting down the door to take you away.

Right at that moment Joel stepped back inside, eyes locking on the way you were clutching onto Ellie. Well this wasn’t what he’d hoped to come back inside to, but life hadn’t been kind to him in a long while.

“Hey, just let go of her and we can talk,” Joel knelt down slowly, he was getting too old to do any of this.

Your arms eased off of Ellie slowly, wincing as she brushed against your side to get back to the safety that was Joel’s back. He knew you wouldn’t be able to properly fight off any kind of attack but it didn’t put him at ease either way. Why had you gone after Ellie when they’d just gotten you settled somewhere safe, or what could be considered safe. 

“How far are we from your brother's place?” You weren’t sure what you wanted the answer to be, nothing sounded positive in the moment.

“About ten miles, it’s all mainly downhill which should be easier with your wound,” Joel glanced at your side noticing your shirt seemed to still be sticky.

“And you’re not going to kill me?” Your voice was shaky, whether it was fear of the sudden lack of adrenaline coursing through your body you weren’t sure.

“I can assure you we’re not going to kill you, Tommy’s compound will keep you safe,” What could he even say to truly reassure you that things weren’t that bad?

Ellie had slipped out of the room entirely, hiding away in one of the spare bedrooms on the first floor. Would you be more comfortable sleeping in a bed where you had more space? Maybe Joel could help you up to the master bedroom and get you comfortable.

“There’s a couple rooms, we’re going to stay the night and then finish the trek tomorrow, does that sound good?” Joel waited until you nodded, sliding his arms beneath you gently before lifting you off the couch.

He would have to get a shirt from Ellie’s bag and give it to you to replace the blood stained one, nothing worse than having them assume you were infected. Would you be able to handle that much walking with your wound? When Joel had been stabbed he was out for nearly two weeks, that was a bad time.

You’d tried to keep your eyes open, truly you did, but the pain was too much to bear and soon you had slipped into the dark embrace of unconsciousness. Joel couldn’t let Ellie know things were going catastrophically, lest he have her start worrying even more. Shit, Joel was most likely going to end up staying awake to make sure you didn’t die throughout the night. Then again it wouldn’t be the first time someone had died on Joel’s watch.

“Stay with us, don’t need Ellie beating me up cause you managed to die,” Joel gently laid you down on the bed, pulling the blanket over your limp frame.

Shirt first, then he could sit down and eat something before getting ready to sit by your side until tomorrow morning. Ellie was probably already asleep, or snacking on some food since it had been a few days. The hike was going to be treacherous, especially with the injuries you had it would take even longer. Taking one final glance to where you were laying Joel headed out of the bedroom in search of Ellie. She was exactly where he’d expected her to be, curled up in front of the fireplace with a can of chef boyardee.

“Please tell me you cooked that first,” Joel knelt down beside her, carefully sitting down with a small huff. “Yeah, made enough for you too since she’s asleep,” Ellie was eating much slower than he expected, practically savoring each bite.

“Thanks,” Joel grabbed the pot lid carefully, scooping up a ravioli into his mouth and chewing slowly.

The air outside was whipping harshly, reminding both Joel and Ellie that they weren’t close enough to the compound to truly feel safe.

“She’s really pretty,” Ellie had finished her dinner, stirring around the remaining sauce in the pot.

“Yeah, she definitely hasn’t lost her looks,” Joel shoveled another ravioli into his mouth before he could keep talking, more embarrassed by what he was saying.

Ellie wasn’t sure what else to say, she’d run into you by complete accident and acted on purely instinct to avoid getting hurt. Except it clearly had hurt Joel in a way, just because it wasn’t physical didn’t mean it didn’t do any harm. There were a few doctors at the compound, if they were able to get you back safely they’d fix you right up and Joel wouldn’t be mad at Ellie anymore… Right?

You’d barely made it through the night, waking up in a cold sweat every few hours as a fever started to take over. Joel had been by your bedside the entire time, ignoring every obligation he had to make sure you were alright. Maybe it was selfish of him but he needed things to turn out alright. The first few miles were a little rocky, Joel wasn’t sure you would be able to stay on your feet the entire time. It wasn’t until you were right outside of the compound that everything started to sink in. Ellie could hold herself up in the bedroom and hide until Joel came searching for her. Maybe she’d get enough time to sit and wallow in peace before he came storming in and blaming her for why someone else he cared about almost died by her hands.

Ellie had blamed herself for a lot of things, but whenever someone died because of her, well that shit really stuck. Joel hoisted you in his arms before running into the compound, screaming that he needed a doctor to help get your fever under control. Ellie snuck off quietly, leaving behind Joel as Tommy ran over with someone she assumed was important. Of course she was absolutely starving, the food they’d eaten the night before didn’t do much to curb her hunger. She wouldn’t go to the mess hall though, not with Joel being out and about while they did whatever they could to help you. She really missed Riley, she’d know what to do in this type of situation.

Maria caught a glance of Ellie as she made her way back to her and Joel’s shared home, roughly wiping at the tears that slipped down her cheeks. Maria knew better than to go after the teen and ask her what was wrong. Could it have been the woman that Joel had come in with, was she upset they had brought another stranger in? She would have to ask Tommy about it all later when they had dinner, right now she was busy taking care of her daughter.

Ellie had locked her door the moment she was inside, stripping off her backpack and jacket with an angry huff. This was all her fault, everything that happened was all her fucking fault. Why did she have to go after you, when you were just trying to defend yourself?

“Goddammit!” She kicked the dresser harshly, wincing as pain shot through her foot and shin.

Great, now she’d gone and gotten herself hurt as well, no wonder Joel hadn’t wanted to keep her around before. The sun was just starting to set outside the windows to her left, bathing the room in a soft orange glow. Maybe a nap would help, not like there was much else she could do anyway. First though she’d take a much needed shower and get into some clean clothes. Going over to the closet that Maria must have stocked when they left, Ellie dug through to find some clothes. A plain old t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants would have to do the job for now, clean off the grime and sleep the issues away.

Joel was terrified, you’d been nearly comatose the entire time since they arrived back in Jackson. Your fever finally dropped, which put him at ease for a brief moment before he came back to the reality that you’d be asleep for a while. Tommy had promised him you were in good hands, that they’d make sure you would be perfectly fine. How could Joel possibly believe them? You were someone he’d lost all those years ago, and yet here you were right in front of him. Maybe he should get something to eat and take a shower, wouldn’t do him any good if he was starving and stunk like shit by the time you woke up.

“Could you come and get me if she wakes up, please?” Joel didn’t want to sound desperate, but there was an underlying urgency to his tone.

“Of course, we’ll alert Tommy right away to find you,” It was the best they could do, Joel was still a stranger to these people.

Joel left without looking back at you, he knew well enough that if he saw you lying peacefully on that hospital bed he’d never want to leave. Without letting himself doubt anything Joel made his way to the house, it was time for a shower and then to get something to eat. Maybe he could stock up their kitchen with what they had and cook for Ellie and you one night. Wouldn’t be for a while of course, Joel needed to make sure he was in the people’s good graces first and foremost. As he made his way up to his own bedroom he frowned when he noticed Ellie’s light was turned off, had she gone to bed?

“Ellie?” Joel knocked on her door carefully, frowning further as he noticed the door was locked.

“Sweetheart, you okay?” She’d have said if something was bothering her, right?

Joel waited for any type of answer, or even any movement that let him know Ellie was in her bedroom. The soft sound of rustling sheets gave him the answer he was looking for, at least he knew she was safe. Turning and heading back to his own bedroom Joel tried to figure out where to go from here. First thing would be a shower, then some food. Shit, should he bring something back and leave it in the fridge for Ellie? Surely she’d be hungry after the journey they just had. He was shocked at how stocked the closet was, there definitely weren’t this many clothes the last time they’d been here. Had they been hoping he and Ellie had come back? Goddammit, Joel didn’t need to start getting emotional over things like this.

Grabbing the necessary clothes Joel headed over to the bathroom attached to his bedroom. It was smaller than their main bathroom, but that didn’t bother him at all. There were a few new things in the bathroom as well, different types of soaps, shaving cream, and even a razor. God, when’s the last time Joel was able to shave? He’d gotten so used to having facial hair he hadn’t even thought about it before. Maybe he could trim it later, he’d definitely need a haircut eventually, his hair was getting too damn long.

He set down his clothes before turning to the shower, cranking the handle to the left so the water would be hot enough to wash away all the grime. Steam had begun to fill the small space as Joel stripped down, looking over the many scars that littered his body. The one on his right side stuck out the most, that time had been so traumatic for Ellie and he blamed himself daily. Had he just been able to see the asshole coming he wouldn’t have been injured, but it was his right side, and Joel had all but lost all his hearing on that side.

Now wasn’t the time to think about his past mistakes, that would happen when he was laying in bed like any other normal person. Joel chuckled to himself and stepped under the scalding spray, groaning as the water rushed down his aching back. He grimaced as the water darkened with dirt, sweat, and a little bit of blood. Grabbing one of the bars of soap Joel started to lather it in his hands before scrubbing at his body and hair. As long as Joel was clean he didn’t care about anything else right now. Well, except for making sure you and Ellie were alright, but that was Joel's number one priority all the time.

Once he was finally clean, Joel stepped out of the shower and grabbed the towel closest to him, drying off his body and hair before getting dressed. The clothes were a damn near perfect fit, and he wasn’t sure if that was due to losing even more weight during their journey home. No time to think about stuff like that right now, he needed to get some food. He’d get something to eat and bring something home to Ellie. Maybe he could go back and sit with you for a little while as long as Tommy didn’t need him.

So much to do and so little time. Joel was getting too damn old for this shit.

[staycalmandhugaclone]

If you're new, this all starts with Touch Starved - Echo! You can read this little chunk as a standalone, or head back to the beginning for the full experience!

Febuwhump Day 7

Made to Watch – OC Medic & TBB

Warnings: Get yuh whump here! Fresh, violent whump! Explicit details of torture and physical injuries, blood and minor gore, broken bones, near death, language.

WC: 2795

“I’m beginning to think… going on missions a-alone with you… is a bad i… idea… think-think we’re c… cursed.” The strangled words broke on stuttered gasps, wincing as my diaphragm jerked in a desperate attempt for breath, sending daggers burring through my ribs. Hunter kneeled a mere handful of meters beside me, chained to the floor in clear view of where I hung, metal shackles bound so high above my head, I had to stretch onto my toes to offer some relief to already bleeding wrists.

“I’ll get you out of here, Doc.” He promised, and my heart ached at the guilt and sorrow in his voice.

“Hmm…” I grumbled, eyes sliding shut beneath a listless frown, “…nose itches.” When he didn’t respond, I cracked an eye to just peak down at him, brow raising expectantly. The shock on his face was worth the fresh hurt that shot through my side from the huffed chuckle, and he offered an exasperated sigh, lips just twitching into a weary smile.

The base was supposed to be abandoned. We’d only been sent in to preform a final sweep for abandoned tech or data, maybe take out the occasional forgotten droid. The unexpected subterranean weapons cache and full garrison of mechanical and biological soldiers guarding it had taken us all by surprise. By the time we realized what we’d stumbled into, however, we’d already split into three groups, and the number of guns aimed at the two of us forced us to submit, relieved only in the knowledge that the other four were still free.

The chagrian in charge of our interrogation assumed I’d be the weak link and spent the following hour trying to manipulate Hunter into revealing our squadmate’s location by sicking a B2 battle droid on me. The sound of ribs cracking beneath that metal fist kept echoing in my mind, but I held my tongue, and so did he, needing only a shared look to ensure I hadn’t reached my breaking point until they finally left.

“Think they’ll… opt f-for strealth?” I mumbled absently, eyes sliding shut once more, “Or… just sho-shoot their way i-in?”

“I think you need to stop trying to talk.” He replied bluntly, but the concern in his words was clear. I mockingly mouthed his words in silence, lips twisted in a slight scowl, earning a quiet growl from the man beside me. “Might be a bit of both.” He finally sighed, entertaining my wonderings, “Try for stealth until that doesn’t work, then we’ll be lucky if there’s enough leftover of the base to still get any intel from.” Without bothering to look at him again, I merely gave a small grin. Even without their leader, those four were a terrifying force to be faced with. If not for the knowledge that they were already working towards our rescue, I may have broken long ago, but I knew it was only a matter of time before they reached us.

-

The violent clang of metal slamming against metal ripped me back to full, agonizing awareness, eyes opening as wide as the swollen flesh would allow as my mind struggled to make sense of the hurt and darkness and cold, body trembling as abused muscles quivered and failed, sending the shackles digging deeper into the ruined skin around my wrists. The hatred burning through Hunter’s eyes was the first thing I saw before following his gaze to the smug, sooty-blue face of the chagrian. Flaking smears of blood still stained the fists of the droid following obediently at his heels. Scowling against the pulsing torture bursting up my side with each shallow breath, I forced myself to stand upright before him.

“I do hope you’ve found your stay enjoyable thus far, for I fear what comforts we’ve allotted you have, unfortunately, expired.” He nearly cooed, overly pleased with himself. “You see: my immediate supervisor has decided that giving up whatever comprises the remainder of your… squad… will no longer be sufficient given your lack of cooperation. Now, I must insist you share with us the access code to Republican military communication frequencies.” A scoff barked from what mockery of a smile I managed to pull split, swollen lips into.

“Very well.” The Separatist sneered and turned his attention to Hunter as the towering machine stalked toward me. “And you? Just a couple words, and you could save your friend here from any additional… unpleasantries.” The Sergeant didn’t move beyond the ebb and flow of heavy breaths, knuckles gleaming from where his hands pulled uselessly at his restraints.

There was no preceding warning before the droid rammed its fist directly into the epicenter of agony bursting through my side with each shallow breath. The air fled me in a barked cry, stomach churning at the crunch of bone. My feet scraped vainly atop the stone floor, body panicked between the sharp hurt tearing through my wrists, the terrible wrongness of ribs grinding at each trembled shutter of muscle, and the fire of lungs screaming for air.

Twice more the droid struck me, the first wrapping around to hit my kidney before it swung its leg up to crack against the side of my thigh. I couldn’t even try to relieve the weight from my hands, torso seizing amidst panicking nerves, abs convulsing in some desperate fight to guard the too exposed flesh, head hanging limp to my chest as my mind raced to make sense of the wrongwrongwrong.

“Shall we try this again?” I barely heard the haughty words, belatedly managing to lift my gaze just enough to find Hunter. The entirely of his attention was locked on me, and I could see fear in those eyes. I wasn’t a clone. I wasn’t trained for this. He couldn’t anticipate my limits, and I saw the dread of that unknown, but I also knew he wouldn’t cave. I knew how it would kill him to put me through the coming torture, but still, he wouldn’t cave. So, I took that choice away from him.

“…don’t… d-don’t you dare….” The shattered words only just escaped on fluttering gasps, almost too quiet even for my own ears to catch, but he heard me. I was certain he heard me. “I can… I…” My diaphragm seized, body wilting beneath each desperate attempt to force air into my lungs. Unfazed, the droid drove its fist into my stomach once more, slamming my back against the durasteel bricks behind me. Chest convulsing in a futile plea for breath, I struggled to exist beyond the burning suffocation, the relentless sensation of warmth slipping down my arms and chin, the sharp taste of iron… Even as darkness threatened the edges of my vision, loathing the way the room spun and stretched out before me, I sought those umber eyes, intent on willing the words I hadn’t managed to say into the look shared between us.

When that metal fist stuck my jaw, I couldn’t bring myself to do more than just keep my eyes open, blindly staring into the swirling shadows. I think Hunter was shouting - vaguely recognized curses that would have made Crosshair smirk. Wait… Hunter shouldn’t be saying anything at all… I vaguely remembered that little tidbit – it’s easier to keep from giving in during an interrogation if you keep perfectly silent. Even shouting insults opens the potential to accidentally yield. Hunter wouldn’t be that sloppy… He was shouting for a reason. My lips twisted into a grin, the faintest wheeze just managing to grind down my throat. His brothers were close.

My vision went white, mind replaying the deafening, wet thud over and over before finally registering the pain swelling into a dense ball near my left eye. Ringing. Spinning.

“Tell me the codes.” Pressure… my thigh… locking around where that damn droid kicked me. I vaguely felt my body jerk, but that hold only tightened. A choked whimper caught in my throat. Tighter. “The codes.” My other leg dragged against the floor. Tighter.

“You kriffing coward! I’m the one with the karking codes! Let them go!” Panic drew me back from the fringes of unconsciousness. Run. Run. Run. Couldn’t see, wide eyes blinded by the hurt and fear as my body strained against that relentless grip. Tighter. Already broken gasps grew frantic, escaping in fleeting grunts of pain. Every cell screamed at me to do something, limbs lashing out for anything that might grant me some hope of escape, writhing violently.

I didn’t hear the raw cry tear from my throat. I barely even felt the molten heat shooting up the limb in rhythmic bursts. It was the sound that consumed me. That deafening crunch. It reverberated through my body on repeat. Again. And again. And again. Marking a lapse in time, some terrible disconnect between my mind and reality.

Muted. From across some great distance, I felt the concussion of an explosive, saw the door blow inward several feet as the pale blue chagrian spun around with terror in his eyes; heard the whir of gears as the B2 crumbled beneath a volley of blasterfire just as it began to turn.

“I’m fine, dammit! Help Doc!” The fury in Hunter’s shouted words drew my gaze lazily toward him, body falling, sinking, fading…

“…-ake. Come on, Doc; need you to stay with us.” Something cool… my cheek… I think someone was touching me. I tried to find them; vaguely certain I was able to make out the deep concern in Echo’s pale face seconds before a pressure send sharp pain pouring through my side. I was barely able to flinch, some choked huff of a whimper fleeing me in staggered gasps.

“-ribs, and I presume that femur as well.” That meticulous, calculating tone was a strange comfort despite my inability to gather enough strength to search for the brilliant pilot amidst the distorted shadows. “I’ll need to split the leg before we can retreat.”

“Where’s Wrecker?” Hunter… I felt myself fading, existing only in the echo of their rushed voices.

“Clearing a path to the surface for us.” The arc answered. I think he moved away from me, vaguely aware that I couldn’t feel the ever-present chill of his hand against my cheek anymore. A moan caught in my throat as something shifted ever so gently against my thigh, but, when that touch suddenly constricted, locking the limb straight with a merciless swiftness, I could make no sound beyond the faintest wheeze, muscles seizing throughout my body before finally collapsing into weak, shallow sobs.

“Okay, we can open these restraints, now.” Tech stated, voice stiff. I didn’t see who retrieved the key from the chagrian’s corpse, couldn’t remember even seeing how the man had died, but, when that sharp metal pulled away from the broken flesh, it rekindled a hurt nearly forgotten amidst the overwhelming agony of my leg, my ribs, the throbbing heat of my face…

Sporadic fits left my arms twitching as someone carefully guided them down to my sides, and my back arched against the hurt grinding through my shoulders. I couldn’t keep track of each touch, barely aware of several hands supporting me until I lay trembling on the stone floor.

“There is little we can do for their ribs without the proper equipment.” Tech warned, words floating meaninglessly overhead.

“If we move them like this…” Hunter started to argue.

“Better than staying here.” Cross… I hadn’t realized he was with them until hearing the reluctance in his voice.

“Alright… Echo, keep that leg stable.” Something shuffled beside me.

“Doc? Hey-hey; come on back.” Something brushed gently through my hair, dragging my attention reluctantly into some tattered facsimile of focus. “Gotta get you out of here.” Hunter… I was certain the blurred figure looming over me was Hunter. “I know it hurts, but I need you to try to stay awake, okay?” Words… what was he saying? The tender movement against my scalp was a blissful comfort when everything else hurt so much. That touch slipped down the back of my head, my neck until his arm eased itself beneath my shoulders, wrenching a small gasp of pain from me as the movement shifted my side.

“I know… I know, but we have to move.” He murmured, easing me further up against his chest. My hand darted out, fingers clawing weakly at the sleek fabric of his blacks, unable to gather enough strength to do more than tremble against him, broken whimpers catching on faltering breaths. His other hand slipped beneath my knees, and I turned into him, face hiding against his neck at the realization of what was happening.

My throat closed around the beginnings of a scream as he stood, Echo’s hand carefully steadying my leg with a firm grip just above my knee. In the same motion, Hunter leaned back, letting my weight rest atop his chest more so that in his arms. What sliver of relief it granted from easing the pressure away from that ruined thigh barely registered, body revolting against still panicking nerves and the agony that position sowed through my ribs.

He didn’t wait for me to settle, gait smooth despite the speed of his movements. Through some distorted mockery of consciousness, I saw Crosshair running beside us, rifle strangely mute even as bloom of fire shot from the long barrel. Couldn’t breathe. Tech fell in behind us, while Echo moved to take point. Some whisper of logic told me I should be afraid. The massive silhouette of Wrecker loomed ahead of us, arms swinging to direct us through the maze of hallways. I felt my chest try to move but couldn’t draw even a whisper of air into lungs crushed beneath uncooperative ribs, and I knew I should be afraid. Hunter’s gait faltered, and I thought for a moment I heard my name.

Something warm whispered over my face. Sunlight. He was screaming. I could feel the vibrations in his chest. My side didn’t hurt as badly anymore; my leg barely a distant annoyance as I eased into the comfort of his strength, the subtle earthiness of his scent. If I focused, I could just feel the thudding of his heart. It was quick, but it was familiar. I just had to focus on that… Not the chorus of panicked shouting, nor that lingering sense that something was terribly wrong… just listen to that gentle th-thud…th-thud…

-

“Doc?” I didn’t want to answer him, didn’t want to fight the terrible heaviness of my eyelids, but I couldn’t stand the depth of worry in that voice. I couldn’t convince my left eye to move, but I just managed to crack the right, frowning weakly at the blurred colors and gleaming lights. Almost instantly, that light dimmed, and a tiny sigh of relief fluttered over swollen lips. Slowly, I noted the short-kept mess of silver curls… couldn’t make out anything more, but I didn’t need to.

“C… Cr”

“Shh.” Hearing that gentle hush in his raspy voice was nearly enough to ease me back into a blessed sleep. I didn’t want to sleep yet. I wanted to rid him of that worry, but it took every fleeting whisper of strength I had to keep that eye from slipping closed once more. “You took a pretty bad beating. Do you remember what happened?” I thought over his words for a long while, chasing flitting thoughts in some futile hunt to answer him. My head just shifted in a nod. I remembered the hidden base, being captured with Hunter… the droid. Brows pulling together in a weak cringe at the very memory of it, I had to fight not to let my attention wander to those injuries, vainly straining against the urge to tense even a single muscle to test the validity of that fear.

“Yeah.” He sighed. Something moved between us, paused in a moment of hesitation before finally reaching forward. The tenderness of his touch, fingertips only just whispering atop my hair nearly ruined me, shuttered breath escaping me as my eye closed in contentment. Encouraged, he carefully let his palm rest against me, thumb sweeping slowly against the balmy skin of my forehead.

“We’ll be back at Kamino soon.” He murmured before letting some of that familiar venom return to his voice. “You’re supposed to be our medic. Not much good to us if you keep trying to get yourself killed.” I could feel myself beginning to fade, but managed to look for him once more, just finding that brilliant flush of amber, and he stilled beneath my gaze. I wanted to tell him that I’d suffer through this and so much more if it meant keeping them safe, but the thought barely whispered through my mind before falling back into the emptiness of sleep.

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[rainysflowers]

Tosses this out into the eather for the most niche audience I could think of. *NYEAH!!*

After seeing the lovely @species-whump-weekly and waiting excitedly for their Demon prompt list for the purposes of using them against my favorite Mazoku, I decided that it would be fun to do something similar. Therefore, I'd like to offer to you, the whump and Slayers community...

Mazoku Whump Week!!

This is the perfect opportunity to take your beloved Mazoku, be them canon or original, and beat them up (maybe comfort them too) for the world to see! What fun ^^ If this does interest you, please look under the cut for more info and prompts!! If not, then have a lovely day!!

CWs/TWS: Themes of Hurt/Pain, Dehumanization of Non-Humans, Neglect, and Similar Content

ALSO I feel that upon farther community interaction that I should mention to PLEASE write out/tag your entries with content & trigger warnings and the characters involved as to not offend/trigger anyone who may come across it without interest in said character/content!!

Personally, I like to give a general overview of what content is in the media much like my CWs/TWs above, then also add on SPESIFIC tags for worse things like Major Character Death, and finally PLEASE SPESIFY which character you'll be hurting in the media!!

Now, I call it a week because that's the way i formatted it, but there's no timeframe and there's no start date. I just made it for fun and my own enjoyment ^^ All I ask is that you please tag me in whatever you choose to create [Writing, art, GIFs, ect]:)) You totally don't have to be a part of either community to participate, I just made this for Slayers fans specifically because I love that anime <3 They are also more so anime-based, than light novel-based, as a side note.

Prompts are formatted as a single master-prompt, something that sets the theme for the sub-prompts under it, and three sub-prompts that you can write one, two, or all three of!! There are also seven alternative prompts that follow the same general theme of the master-prompts (I.E. alternative prompt one (1) has the same theme as master-prompt one (1) and so forth). !!! Two alternative prompts are based on my personal headcannons, but those are labeled as such, and do not have to be used !!!

Here is the prompt list:

01) Summoned.

1] I’ll Treat You Like My Pet/Dehumanization

2] Defiance/Defiant Whumpee* (*Whumpee refers to the character who is in pain, which is in this case the Mazoku of your choice)

3] Terms and Conditions

02) Used.

1] Losing Control

2] Astral Wound/Pain

3] Magical Exhaustion

03) Misunderstood.

1] Kindness Makes the World Go Round

2] Starvation

3] Botched Shapeshifting

04) Betrayed.

1] Backstabbed

2] Found Out

3] Ritual Sacrifice

05) Returned.

1] Uncaring Master

2] Can’t Go Back

3] Demonic Punishment

06) Inherited.

1] Immortality

2] Bleeding Black

3] Ingrained Morality

07) History.

1] Scars

2] War Never Changes

3] Falling Comrades

Alternative Prompts

1] Orihalcon Restraints/Weapons (Based on a headcanon where the metal Orihalcon is able to suppress the Mazoku's ability to either return to the Astral Plane or negates their ability to be impervious to physical wounds in the real world.)

2] Reluctant Caretaker

3] Presumed Dead (Based on a headcanon where if a Mazoku is injured enough, they must ditch their assumed form to return to the Astral Plane, leaving them looking like a corpse in the Human World.)

4] “I can’t believe I trusted you.”

5] Assassination (Attempts)

6] “I thought that you couldn’t love?”

7] Survivor’s Guilt

Here is the Prompt List in a Google Doc:

Thank you so much for checking out this post, sorry for the crappiness lol, I just wanted to share some stuff. Ill be back sooner or later, and if you have any questions, please send them on in ^^ luv yall with the strength of a thousand suns <3 Have a good day, night, and whatever else!!

[michanvalentine]

Things about Vincent Valentine that I read around and piss me off. Vol.3

"Vincent is boring, doesn't talk and does nothing but mope around."

EXCUSE ME?!?! Seriously, I think this is the worst. I understand that not everyone may like a character, and rightly so, but this type of comment often denotes a lack of in-depth analysis of the character. Or even a lack of simple understanding. And since I now feel like Vincent Valentine's defense lawyer, I think I will continue my speech, your honor! Personally I don't find it boring at all, quite the contrary. Vincent Valentine is a mysterious character. Even now, years after the release of DoC, we discuss, question and fantasize about the thousand things that are still unclear about him. And with the release of Rebirth the questions and doubts have only increased, although the character has clearly been expanded in his characterization. The roots of his story run deep into the heart of FFVII's plot, where it all began, and Vincent Valentine boasts strong connections to characters like Hojo, Lucrecia, and Sephiroth himself. Not to mention the Turks and Shinra. This alone should arouse interest, even just to understand how the character of Vincent Valentine can enrich the game's plot and the characters he interacts with. Furthermore, Vincent Valentine has the superpower of being unintentionally comical, starting from his inability with modern technology. His serious, dark, cold and stoic nature sometimes clashes so much with the context or with the characters around him that it almost makes him seem ridiculous. And that's something I find funny. As well as all the interactions he can have with characters who are markedly more exuberant/cheerful than him, such as Yuffie, Cid or Barret. But ok, tastes are tastes, there's no arguing about that. For me Vincent is far from boring, but I can understand that for some he is. What I can't stand is thinking of him as a person who does nothing but "mope around".

Apart from the fact that Vincent Valentine is a righteous person who cares about his friends and is always there to support them in his own way. And as much as he tries to stay away from everything and everyone, he can never resist when it comes to helping someone. We saw this in AC when he promptly saves Cloud from Kadaj, Loz, and Yazoo. We saw him in DoC, when he shielded Reeve or Yuffie on several occasions. We even saw him in Rebirth, when he shielded Tifa or rushed to support Cloud during the Queen Blood quest. Let's say that the role of bodyguard is still powerful in him! But I really can't read that his flaw is being silent. Or that he dwells too much on the past and mopes around. My eyes bleed when I read these comments. I'll make a quick list why Vincent Valentine can't be a cheerful and jovial person who gets along with everyone:

He is heartbroken. The love of his life left him like this, from one moment to the next, and without a valid reason. Not for him, at least.

Lucrecia chose Hojo. Of all people. This is a great blow to his self-esteem, not because Hojo is a toad but because he is a person with an abominable soul.

He's been killed. But then he rose again. And already here there is something very wrong.

The experiments that brought him back to life were not exactly a walk in the park. And if we think of Hojo, only abominable scenarios like him can come to mind.

He is a monster. Inside him he has four uncontrollable and angry entities that he has to live with night and day every day.

The world outside could welcome him with torches and pitchforks.

He lost thirty years of his life and found himself in a world he no longer knows, people, places, technology. Everything changed.

He is immortal. This means that he will see all the people he loves die, one after the other, inevitably. Over and over.

The woman he loves lies in a crystal, eternally unattainable.

One of the entities he harbors within himself is Chaos, a primordial god of death who will cause the end of the world.

His long-term life prospect is to witness the end of all life. Only to be left behind on a dying planet. Alone.

And maybe I even forgot to consider some other aspects! Just to put it all in perspective: we ordinary people complain about our cuticles or because it's raining or because there's a test at school. Or for any other triviality. And we are often in a bad mood simply because we are. Vincent Valentine has been through hell. He literally died and then came back to life. I think this abberation alone would be enough to drive anyone crazy. And then he spent almost thirty years alone in the basement of the Shinra Mansion, when isolation is considered a form of torture for us human beings. And this too would drive anyone mad. Death is a liberation, which was denied to him in exchange for a new, damned existence made of nightmares, demons, regrets, remorse, etc. And in the future for him there is nothing, only death and destruction. No love, no family, only ephemeral bonds, destined to be lost over time. No wonder he's afraid to let people get close. There is no hope for Vincent Valentine, only a dark destiny awaits him. With such a rosy outlook it would almost be unnecessary to remember that people who lose a limb or are disfigured suffer psychological damage that requires years of therapy, so we can only imagine how Vincent Valentine rebuilt his self. Alone, in the dark. After being dissected on an operating table, genetically manipulated and put back together in a way he wasn't. Life, dignity, humanity, all stripped away. Nonetheless, Vincent Valentine got back on his feet. Also thanks to the help of the right people at the right time, of course, but after everything he has been through, reacting is not something to be taken for granted. Indeed, not only did he remain a "functioning" person but he also managed to retain his big heart and his strong sensitivity. Vincent Valentine is a person with incredible resilience, who managed to draw from trauma and suffering the strength necessary to put himself at the service of good. To protect instead of destroy, when he could simply drown his conscience and his pain in the beast's rage and let it be. Only a great man can do this.

So leave him alone. He has every right and reason to be depressed or to remain silent without being judged for it. The guy is already doing a great job.