#wrote this last year but it's the time for spooks so i'm bringing it back
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of course 3/3
1/3
2/3
entire fic on ao3
in which tommy finally admits he should maybe see a therapist.
thanks again to @mooshkat for the original concept
(tw: heart problems, hospitalization, self loathing)
~
Bobby is the next to show up.
"Hi," he says, disconcertingly tall as he stands over Tommy's bed with a small tupperware. "I figured you can't have anything we would normally bring for someone stuck here, but there's this recipe I liked after my heart attack. It's just chickpeas tossed with olive oil and a bit of curry powder."
"That's very thoughtful," Tommy says, touched and confused. He starts tucking in immediately. The food here could be worse, but he never has much appetite when he's unwell. Maybe eating something will make the nurses frown less often. They're very frowny in this unit. Makes sense, as they probably have the highest proportion of deaths in the building, but it's shit for patient morale.
Bobby's still standing, so Tommy tilts his head at the chair and continues eating.
"How are you feeling?" he asks, once Tommy has left the now half-empty container on his tray table.
"Fine? Tired, mostly." Which is probably for the best when the only change of scenery he gets is the regular trips to imaging. All the napping doesn't leave time to develop cabin fever. "You?"
"I'm good. A little concerned."
Shit. So he's just jumping right in. Tommy works on his breathing. "Oh?"
Bobby nods. "Buck is getting released in the next few hours. He'll probably be up here as soon as they hand over the discharge summary."
Tommy doesn't eye the monitors, but he has a brief fantasy about ripping the leads out and smashing everything on the ground. It's been a long time since he's felt this exposed for this long. "That's good."
Bobby puts his hands on the armrests of the chair. "Hen seems to think you don't want to see him, which is interesting since Buck is behaving like you're pretty much back together."
Keep him away. Do it so I don't have to see his face. "I- I'm-"
Bobby looks at him like he's a spooked horse. "I'm not just here for him, okay? I wanna help you get clarity on what you're actually looking for before it blows up in both your faces again."
It's such a brazen offer Tommy can't help but laugh. "You're welcome to try?"
Bobby smiles a little. "Kid's got a heart the size of Alaska, but--or maybe because of it--he's like the La Brea tar pits. Once you're in, that's all she wrote. It's fine, though, great even. If that's your choice."
Tommy tilts his head, reconciling this man with the friendly, new in town captain who had a veil behind his eyes. In the last eight years, everyone at the 118 figured out how to open a vein for each other, and here's Tommy. Out, flying, and only able to meet his own eyes in the mirror half the time. "What if I'm a bomb," he asks. "Or... whatever destroys tar."
"Is that how you want it to be?" Bobby presses gently.
Tommy rubs at the side of his neck. "I'd be a monster and an idiot if I said yes, wouldn't I?"
Bobby spreads his hands. "There's no relationship jail, Tommy. Doesn't matter to me if you're either or both those things. All I ask is that you keep it away from people I care about."
"No. It's-" Tommy shifts his gaze, his vision blurring. "It's not- That's not what I want. But it's not that easy, Bobby."
"Didn't say easy. Didn't even imply it." Bobby moves a box of tissues from the nightstand to the tray table. "You're no stranger to tackling something hard because you thought it would be worth the effort. Maybe give yourself a little credit."
There are oval-shaped bruises in a roughly circular pattern on Evan's forearm, resembling a school of fish. Those weren't there after the crash. Tommy flexes his right hand, which has been stiff and sore for no apparent reason. "I did that," he says.
"Yeah?" Evan frowns in confusion. "You were suffocating. It wasn't on purpose."
It can be an omen if Tommy lets it.
"Tommy?" Evan says.
Omens are stupid. "Hm?"
Evan fidgets with his free hand, pulling at the edge of his sling. "You said of course you love me, like it was easy. Like it was a given. People don't- haven't said it like that."
"How did they say it?"
"Like they were surprised. Like it was the last thing they could've expected."
"I knew it was a possibility the first time I kissed you," Tommy says, tired of choosing between truths.
He looks up. "You did?"
"Evan," Tommy sighs, "you're the fucking sun."
His beautiful eyes widen and get wet at the corners. "I didn't want the first time I said it to be when- when you were dying in my arms." A shadow passes over his features and Tommy's fingers curl, gathering a handful of his blanket. "I wanted- needed to believe that I'd get another chance. I love you, too, Tommy."
Tommy is so grateful this conversation is taking place today, when he's recovered enough to not cause an international incident every time he does anything more stressful than looking at the color green. The specter of the alarm still looms, but he's done okay so far. "I might not have heard you, if you had said it then." Tommy gestures at his chest. "The wheezing, it was very loud."
"You heard some things, though? It felt like you- you were reacting."
"Yes, Evan. You kept me going."
Evan beams. Tommy aches from the inside like someone sprinkled salt in his IV bag.
"I need," he warns, "so much therapy."
Evan shifts forward in his seat, grunting softly in pain. "I can get you some recommendations."
"Of course you can." Tommy smiles.
Evan is inches away, practically falling out of the chair. "Can I touch you?"
"Do you have the slightest idea how many medications I'm on right now?"
He ducks his head and laughs. "You know that's not what I meant."
"Oh, well, show me what you m-"
Evan lays his free hand lightly, ever so lightly, over Tommy's battered heart before leaning forward and pressing their foreheads together. "I'm so proud of you," he whispers. "I asked you not to run, and you stayed."
Right after the alarm goes off, Tommy pulls away just far enough to capture Evan's mouth with his own.
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so I never actually wrote about our outing last weekend!
floating - F loaded really well leaving home, was a bit trickier coming back but we got there. with two people it would have been easy but with just me he backs off when I move to shut the bum bar.
it was meant to be a showjumping training day and my most basic goal was to at least ride around in the warmup with other horses which... did not really happen because only one other person was there.
arrival - he was a bit prancy when I first unloaded him and walked him around but he was well-mannered and he stood well at the float and ate his hay net. easy to tack up.
riding - by the time I had him tacked up someone else had arrived but parked out of sight, and there was no clear warmup area so I trotted him a couple of circles on the long lead rope make sure he wasn't too spicy and hopped on. he didn't want to walk out of the car park because there was damp ground at the gate 😂
went up the arena and went in because there was no one else around. he jacked up a bit at the gate (because this was his first time in an indoor arena ever in his life) but walked in with no leaps or theatrics eventually. first couple of laps he was twitching at everything from the drag marks to the sound of the footing hitting the boards, but he didn't do anything stupid and after a few laps and trying a trot we did our round of tiny crossrails.
it was a mixture of actual jumps and treating them like trot poles, but I was really pleased with how he focused and didn't spook at anything.
(comment from the venue owner "he's much nicer when he has a job to do!")
walked him around a bit more, then the other person came up and did her round while we practiced waiting patiently (not entirely successful).
she asked if I was happy to go up to 45cm and I was but then immediately started doubting myself because we haven't done much higher than that at home and stupidly I imagined there would still be some crossrails, but it was all either verticals or oxers (nearly half the course was oxers) which again we haven't done very much. also the other girl nominated me to go first, which, thanks.
ANYWAY F whacked the absolute shit out of the first jump but somehow didn't bring it down and that woke him up for the rest of the course. coming in to some jumps (especially the oxers) I could feel him asking "are you sure?" but when I put my leg on he just went "ok then!" and powered over them without ever feeling like he was going to refuse. champion.
(his steering did get a bit wobbly at a couple of points where he went to go the complete opposite way to the course/me so I need to remember to steer more clearly post-jump)
completely missed one distance but it didn't seem to put him off. this was also his first time seeing a combination and he wanted to run out at the second element but we fumbled through and he got better each time.
the other girl went through, then I went back in just to do select fences. I wanted to practice approaching at a canter (which... took a bit to establish with him wanting to be a little wild) so we did a vertical, and oxer, and then the vertical to double line again. no hesitation again and the owner commented that it looked much smoother even though it felt a bit hairy.
hopped off and walked him around for a bit, the other girl went up to 60cm but we called it a day. part of me wanted to try at least one jump at 60cm but he'd been so good the whole day that I didn't want to push too far and ruin it. better to end on a good note.
firsts: time on a float in over a year (oops), time at this venue, time in an indoor arena, full course of jumps, proper jumps with stripes and wings, oxer under saddle (? maybe), combination.
what a trier. I'm so proud of him and how he handled everything.
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[Simarkus Fanfic] Blackbird Braille
Rating: T
Warnings: None
Chapters: 9/9 | Words: 33,982 [AO3]
Notes: Paranormal shenanigans, slight murder, vague 80's setting.
Summary: Highschool student Simon Palmer is trying his best to rebuild a normal life for himself with the help of his friends when a bizarre murder and strange phenomena strike their small Michigan town.
CHAPTER 1
It all started with Josh’s car accident the year they turned seventeen, or it may have started even before that, the summer they met when they were thirteen. Josh called it chance, Markus was inclined to elevate it to luck, Simon thought it was predestination, how else could four people so different end up being so close?. He had told as much to North once; she had scoffed and called it nonsense to his face, but now, as Josh picked her up from detention in his ridiculously ancient Volkswagen Beetle so she wouldn’t have to walk home in the snow, she thought maybe she would call it a timely fluke.
Josh and North met first. Fate must have worked overtime to keep them together until Simon, ever their peacemaker, could get to them. Back then, after many court cases and a lot of bad blood that would never go under any bridges, North had been legally adopted by her aunt, Dr. Lucy Kline. They had left everything behind, moved back to the small town Lucy had grown up in; she wanted to give North a fair chance, a complete fresh start. At thirteen not unlike at seventeen North’s anger was ever smoldering, but at thirteen unlike at seventeen she had thought rage was all she would ever feel.
She was too proud and too self sufficient to ever admit she really didn’t know how that rage would have molded her without the three stupid dorks she had collected.
“Someone owes me a fiver” Josh said with a smile as they drove away from the school
“Don’t feel so smug” she scoffed, dropping a five in the glove compartment regardless
“Should we up the bet? 10 next?”
“I’m not a child, you can’t coerce me into good behavior by taking my allowance away”
“Oh no, no, my bets are for self serving purposes only. Either, you don’t get yourself into detention so I don’t have to come back to school to pick you up, or I win easy cash, a win/win” he said with an annoying grin “What was it this time anyway?”
She shrugged reaching for Simon’s jacket in the back seat, searching the pockets until she found a cereal bar. After she had defended his honor couldn’t Simon at least have better snacks?
“They were talking shit so I gave them something else to talk about” She bit into the bar, scrunched her nose, cinnamon was her least favorite flavor but it was the one Markus liked best and there you were.
Josh left it at that, knowing from her tone and her actually eating a cinnamon bar that he wasn’t going to get anything else right now.
Even as a little kid Josh had been aware that being brilliant was not enough, he didn’t have Markus’ money or status, but he had just as many plans. He simply couldn’t afford getting tangled in North’s anger. He had known that since the day he had met her, when he had caught her trying to set a trashcan on fire, which she had achieved with tremendous success.
Josh hadn’t slept that night sure Gavin Reed was going to come for him. Other kids were afraid of monsters under their beds, Josh’s bogeyman was quite real and lived only a block away. He still remembered the dread he had felt when Sheriff Anderson had knocked at their door the next morning. North had told them- All the nightmares from the night before crashed on him, had she told them he had started the fire? Were they going to take him away?
North, caught in her little try at arson, had told them how Josh had managed to put the fire out all on his own.
“Good job, son” Hank Anderson had said with a gruff nod and a pat on his shoulder. “If you come across any more fires call an adult to help you out, understood?”
And now here he was, picking The Fire up from detention as he had done at least a hundred times before, with time he had learned how to weather it and he could stand very close to it and it wouldn’t burn him, not too often at least. He liked The Fire, life would be dull without it. He desperately hoped The Fire wouldn’t get herself in bigger trouble. He hoped she wouldn’t need him to bail her out in the very near future, at least not more than 3 times- 7 times tops. Anyway, Markus was a trust fund child so they could probably afford a few more.
“Drive safe, dork!” North said as she climbed out of the car, knocking softly on the hood of the beetle twice.
“See you tomorrow!” Josh said as he watched her go inside her house, in a tone that meant ‘try not to get in trouble in the next 12 hours’
On his way back home it started snowing again, he would appreciate it much more if it weren’t for the ice, but there was a very distinct feeling he got driving just as it was getting dark, the snow fluttering in front of his headlights while he was comfortable and warm inside his car. When he was a child he liked to imagine he could see all sorts of spooks in evenings like this, any moment now he’d see one on the side of the road, maybe a lady dressed all in white, or an animal that didn’t look quite right.
That was when he noticed the hitchhiker and his heart skipped a beat in apprehension and fear, like he had seen something unsettling he shouldn’t have, so much so he didn’t slow down. One second later he was laughing at himself, he was seventeen and he still managed to scare himself, he was glad North wasn’t there to see it or she wouldn’t ever let him live it down.
Josh was just considering going back to pick him up, it was getting darker and the snow was getting worse. He was calculating his U-turn, looking into his rear-view mirror when it, incomprehensibly, shattered. Mirror chips fell all over Simon’s jacket which North had left in the front seat. He looked back at the road, already somewhat shaken, when he noticed the familiar figure standing right in the middle of it, so close to him his brain couldn’t comprehend how he had missed it before.
He jammed his foot on the breaks, his car skidding on the treacherous black ice. As everything slowed down, the last thing he saw were the bits of mirror glinting as they mixed with Markus’ pastels and scattered all over the car. The last thing he remembered thinking was that it was funny how only the blue ones were worn down to snubs. Could you buy the colors separately or did you have to get a full set when one shade ran out?
Then he hit the tree.
#simarkus#dbh josh#dbh north#markus x simon#dbh simon#dbh markus#detroit become human#wrote this last year but it's the time for spooks so i'm bringing it back#mystories
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Summary: Hela goes into rampage after finding reader dying
A/N: kinda in Helas pov in a way idk short I wrote this half asleep oops, idk if I wrote her well??
Taglist: @the-obscurity
Warning(s): death(readers), violence(fighting, Hela k words someone). Unhealthy coping, ANGST. Fluffish to angst. Kinda in detail gore?
Hela x reader: Raging Grief
Just this morning, everything was perfect, your smiling face curled into her side, as you woke up as usual, sleepy face, a quick peck and you both got ready for the day.
The normal walk, hand in hand down the hallway into the throne room, an extra seat made beside her own, fit for her heart. Her love. Oh how she wish she had the power to turn back time
Where did it go wrong? Why now? So soon after just marrying
"..no My love" Hela's usually strong practically sarcastic tone turned into a heartwrenching broken voice, "please no" the once powerful women sat broken clutching the smaller person in her arms, a large hole in their stomach gushing out. The one being keeping her from destroying everything in her path was you, as always
"Hela." You gasped out bringing a bloodied hand to hers, "it's ok" speaking became much harder, sluggish even, if you weren't bleeding out she would have assumed you were drunk by your speech. "You'll be fine. Be safe. Be ok" she will be safe, but she will be ok that's for sure.
"I will Not. Be ok, y-" a sob cut her off clinging onto you and your warmth started to go faster "you're dying leaving me. You said you would be ok- you have to stand please. Stop getting colder" she begged, for the first time in years, something she knew had to happen she dreaded.
Hela goddess of death herself begged for a life to live. But as fate should have it. She would lose this fight no matter what she did, almost a sick play on how she once vowed all would perish before her. "I love you. I'll always be with you" was the last thing she heard before you took your last breath, then all was silent. A deafening silence hitting all around her. She would no longer hear the laughter, the stories you'd tell, nothing. Setting you down gently, she slid the golden ring off your hand gently placing it in her pocket. She grabbed the sword you held by your side at all times, the very sword she had crafted for you herself. The green emerald carved into the handle gleemed red dripping with the very blood it was created to protect-that it failed
A roar of rage and grief escaped her lips. She would have that pathetic mans head, if he thought for even a second he or any one of them would get away with this very devastating loss. They were surely mistaken.
Its inhuman how she stormed up to one of the one outlaw she wanted most, ripping into him like an animal viciously digging into their pray, a broken laugh escaped her as she beat the very person who killed you, took you. No stole you away, but then stopped after he finished gargling. No.. this isn't the one. They all did this. All his people he gathered to take her down is at fault.
Gripping the handle harsher it could almost break from her hands, she started her hunt. Sprinting down the halls she could hear you, telling her to calm down, telling her to stop and think, but she won't- can't stop. You didn't deserve to die like that, they don't deserve to live, breath the air you once did after what they did. Taking away the very thing she could feel human with?
Yells were heard, screams echoed the halls as she tore through, to her main goal. It was deafening towards her, bashing away each betrayer away like flies flinging from the fly swatter, her jaw clenched-hurting, finally locking eyes with the Male-who at first was smug but became fearful once he saw her flying through as it his men were mere bugs- and to her they were
Yeah, that's right. Turning to face the men holding weapons up to her, some shaking, some not. Blood dripping from her face, her eyes grew even darker. "You will all pay." Standing upward she pointed your sword to the people, the ones who betrayed her-you. "For this SIN"
-
"Hela my poor daughter" Odin spoke softly to not spook the women, slowly he walked to the grieving women clutching onto their lover "what happened my child?"
"DO NOT. Act like you don't know" Hela sobbed yet, no more tears came. All she felt was-sorrow, rage. Odin sighed reaching towards the body, "DON'T TOUCH THEM" Hela yelled harshly making him retract his hand from her late spouse
"I'll" swallowing dryly he stood tall, turning to walk out the door "I'll arrange a funeral." Before he closed it he looked back at his broken daughter- never seeing her like this even once "I'm sorry for your loss" before he closed the door, no light shining in the room, the once joyous room, the room you both shared, she wanted to destroy the throne room. Wanted to do something. But she couldn't.
She hope's one day she'll see you again. Maybe when she the goddess of death falls to death itself she may. One day.
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I'm thriving on the angsty things you write. Especially with the Cahir/Eskel/Lambert trio. Especially the uncertainty of Cahir being alright or even alive in most situations. I wonder if you have more things with that kind of stuff, I mean, is there a piece where one of them clinically died for some time? And the others were uncertain about this one's fate?
You know how to break my heart Nonnie. Usually I wouldn’t touch a prompt dealing with death. As a general rule, character death prompts get deleted immediately. But it’s a new year, I’m in a very odd funk (all I will say is: fuck you melon in the fridge, fuck you) so, you know. I wrote this. I cried. Eskel cried. Lambert cried. Cahir cried. And one of them died.
CW: Major Character Death
Just because love had magically found them didn’t mean that they could slack off. All three of Lambert, Eskel and Cahir had their roles in the world, tunes they had to march to even if their hearts called to each other. However, they could compromise and pick times and places where they could just so happen to meet. They were few and far between but that made their shared moments that much more precious. Usually, they picked quite out of the way places that they knew to be Witcher tolerant. Having one Witcher in an inn made people nervous, to have two easily turned them hostile. It meant it was usually a little further for Cahir to travel but he always maintained it was worth it.
Knowing what they did of each other’s travelling habits, Eskel was usually first to arrive. He liked to get a room as big as possible, claiming his size warranted a few nights of luxury in a bed he could fit in. Second to arrive was Cahir, always keen not to be late which made him almost early. Despite his best intentions, he had a habit of finding trouble wherever he went, which meant he rarely did get to their meeting point before Eskel, even it that was his plan. Last but not least, Lambert would saunter in, loving the fact that everything was ready, he didn’t have to make nice with the local and beg them to take an unfair portion of his coin for subpar board and food.
Only, this time when he arrived, it was only Eskel there to greet him. Unusual as it was, they knew Cahir attracted trouble by just existing. It wouldn’t be a surprise to have him turn up, bruise and battered but with a somewhat proud smile at having managed to either save the day or outwit some fool who tried to cross him. The sun set, Lambert and Eskel curled up in bed. Just because Cahir wasn’t there didn’t mean they couldn’t enjoy each other’s company. They’d have plenty of love and energy for when Cahir arrived.
The next day was equally empty of Cahir. Slowly, Lambert and Eskel began to worry. A day late was fine but this was now three days later than usual. Not only was Cahir late but their room was only paid for one more day. Over breakfast the next morning, Eskel made some enquiries.
“There’s rumours of a beast on the southern road. Been upending carts and spooking horses. Your contact may have run afoul of it.”
Asking around in the village, it was rapidly becoming apparent that there was indeed something haunting the road. The silver lining was that the mayor offered a handful of coin if Eskel took care of it. It wasn’t like they could linger any longer, Lambert left a message for Cahir if he made it that they missed him and were heading south for a contract.
“It’s likely a noon wraith,” Eskel said as he led Scorpion out of the stall. “I hate those so much.”
“You cast yrden and I’ll do the rest. Work to our strengths and all that shit Vesemir banged on about.”
Swords coated in wraith oil, Eskel left Scorpion in the shade when he began to get skittish. It meant the wraith was nearby. Sure enough, there was an otherworldly screech and something buffeted past them, giving them angry shoves but nothing more. Probably a newly created wraith then, still with some memories intact. Eskel threw his hand up as the wraith rounded on them again and cast yrden. Instantly Lambert was throwing himself into the fray, sword raised. Only, he didn’t bring it down in a maiming blow. With an alarmed cry, he took a step back and promptly fell on his backside. It was usually a death sentence for a Witcher to be so clumsy. Yet the wraith didn’t attack. In fact, it slowed down and morphed into a flickering image of what it had once been.
“Lambert?” Hollow, crackling voiced, the wraith loomed over Lambert. “Why did you try to hurt me Lambert?”
Eskel’s sign flickered and failed as he watched Cahir’s spirit waver above Lambert. There was no hiding the gasp of a sob that ripped from his throat. Immediately Cahir’s attention was on him.
“You’re crying. I’ve never seen you cry before.” Cahir floated closer to Eskel, a ghostly hand reaching to try and wipe the tears. It was like being touched by fire and ice at the same time as Cahir’s hand brushed not over but through his scars. The tear’s path down Eskel’s cheek remained unchanged.
Behind them, Lambert picked himself up, looking stricken. He couldn’t do it. The hundreds of wraiths he’d dealt with before had been impersonal. They were malicious echoes left behind by a violent death. None of them had been Cahir who he’d seen laugh, cry and everything in between. His watery eyes met Eskel’s. They knew what had to be done. But they were too weak.
Reaching for the tear again, Cahir watched his hand pass through Eskel’s cheek. His lips formed a soft ‘oh’ and he pulled his hand back.
“I’m dead, aren’t I?”
Lips quivering, Eskel nodded.
“They killed me.” Cahir looked towards a copse of trees and Lambert knew where they were going to have to go once Cahir’s spirit moved on. “Six bandits-” His hand drifted to his throat subconsciously. “-they wanted my money. I only had a handful of florens but they didn’t think it was enough. They wanted my horse and then they- they-” Moving his hand away from his throat, Eskel could see the bruises forming as the memories came back.
Looking over his shoulder, Cahir twisted to look at Lambert. Taking pity on him, Eskel moved to stand next to his partner so they could both see Cahir.
“What do I do?” Cahir looked so lost and young all of a sudden.
Voice nothing more than a croak, Lambert replied. “You move on. You have to.”
Unable to hold himself back, Eskel reached for Cahir, held his hand in a mimicry of cupping his cheek. “I don’t want to let you go.”
Tears were flowing down his cheek, his nostrils flared with each sniff. It didn’t get easier to watch as Cahir reached up, hand hovering over his while the other reached for Lambert.
“You’ll always be with us,” Lambert promised, his hand clenching over static filled air. “We won’t forget you.”
Cahir offered a wobbly smile of his own. “Our history will always carry our shared footprints.”
A gust of wind scattered ghostly ashes that faded in the grass. Eskel dropped to his knees, sobbing, hands scrabbling to keep even a single speck of it. Not that Lambert was much better. His lips were pressed into a tight, white line and he leaned over, braced on his knees, trying to hold back his sobs. There was nothing left though. Nothing of the man they had loved, only a body they were going to have to retrieve. The only thing left was to build a Witcher’s funeral pyre. Cahir may not have been a Witcher himself, but he’d had two Witchers’ hearts to call his own.
#eskel/lambert/cahir#eskel/lambert#eskel/cahir#lambert/cahir#Cahir Mawr Dyffryn aep Ceallach#eskel#lambert#cw: major character death#tldr: cahir is late and the others have a contract in the area
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