#but those few times were enough to infect my brain

[wormhabitat]

thinking about how everyone else in the press room calls for ted to call on them but trent usually just quietly raises his hand. he knows he doesn’t have to try hard to get ted’s attention

#idk how true this is lmaoo it’s something i noticed a couple of times and decided to generalize about xoxo #but those few times were enough to infect my brain #trent may canonically have a crush on ted but i’m convinced that it isn’t one sided idc #trent crimm #ted lasso #tedtrent

[outletcrash]

My poison ivy! I'm extremely proud of this. backstory under the cut :)

its been in the back of my head that ivy is indian since forever. i literally have no clue why its just There. she's tamil specifically, because i have favoritism regarding the script its written with.. it tickles my brain...

anyways heres my Poison Ivy: Origins comic i made last night in like 3 hours.

(theres a section here on her early life and the backstory of her parents that im still workshopping. basically she was a bastard child that only her mom supported and they left for gotham)

Bhavani got a job as an accountant for a law firm on recommendation from an uncle who had a company that worked in Gotham (he was kinder to the pair). She was always gifted in math. Bhavani raised her daughter the best way she knew how, even without the support of her family. 

Pamela (now nicknamed Ivy due to multiple kids misreading her last name as Ivy. And she was very nature-focused even as a kid, digging in the dirt and identifying different kinds of trees using books she got at the Gotham Library with her mother) excelled in school, surpassing most of her peers. The pursuit of knowledge was the one thing she enjoyed. Her classmates were sticky and loud and irritating, and when she wasn’t ignoring them she was tying their shoelaces together as revenge for talking too loud during quiet time. She managed to make just enough casual friends to not worry her mother too deeply, but this was the start of a downward spiral.

She lost friends, and not many could take on the effort of befriending her. She lost herself in biology, the study of life. Especially plants and conservation. Plants were just so… simple, compared to human society. But their structures and functions and genetics were fascinating. She skipped grades to take higher-level classes on genetics. Her grades were phenomenal but her social skills were extremely underdeveloped. Not like Ivy cared. Humans were a plague on this earth, pumping the atmosphere with CO2 and poisoning rivers and cutting down forests. In her mind, they did nothing but harm the serenity of nature she so cherished. 

After graduating with a PHD and doctorate, she got a job as a genetic engineer. She studied alternative ways to help regrow ecosystems after deforestation. Her Gotham University coworkers were wary around Ivy. She was a woman none of them knew anything about, who would say ecoterrorist-aligned comments offhandedly the few times she ever spoke. 

Ivy was working on a genetically engineered plant on the day of the accident. It was designed to nurture plant species by sending chemical signals, and it took in energy through waste products left by deforestation and manufacturing. At least, in theory. 

Ivy was working all alone in the lab at 2am. She hadn’t slept for hours, she was so close to her breakthrough. She was so close to making those billionaire bastards pay for what they did to the earth. She wasn’t wearing proper safety equipment nor using proper containment procedures during the incident. And as such, she was infected. The plant didn’t just take in waste material, it took in living flesh. Ivy’s cells were transformed in a gruesome fashion, her entire genetic code was re-written as it spread through her body. Her skin was green and her lab coat was bloody. Her newly-red hair flowed behind her as she escaped the lab, running through university grounds. Each footstep brought grass and dandelions cracking through the concrete in full bloom. Trees and grass grew to get closer to her, reaching for her. 

Ivys powers were completely out of control. She was crying and hyperventilating as her mind was warped. It had given her a need for flesh. When she made it to Robinson park, she couldn’t overcome the primal instinct. Plants still crawling at her ankles, and she killed a squirrel with her bare hands and ate it raw. This only fueled her fractured mind to want more. Ivy's first ever murder was a pedestrian, who just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. He tried to flee when he saw a bloody green woman with a squirrel carcass in her mouth, but it was to no avail. He was strangled to death with poison ivy vines, and eaten. 

Finally, the primal instinct was satiated. Ivy escaped to a warehouse in the industrial district of Old Gotham. She tended to her injuries as best she could, soon discovering she had healing abilities. The injuries from her being torn apart had already mostly healed. She slept on an old couch, dreaming about what she could use these powers for. 

When the news broke on the mysterious and grisly death of a random pedestrian, the media was all over it. Since he was killed by poison ivy, and from security footage the culprit was seemingly a woman, the media dubbed her Poison Ivy. Many believed it wasn’t possible, and that the footage was faked, but the GCPD was stumped. 

Batman looked through the footage and, by process of elimination (matching the appearances of the scientists who had access to the laboratory, keycard scanners throughout that day and evening, as well as their known affiliations and potential criminal history. Two of them did deal weed but it was nonviolent and they didn’t match the woman in the tapes.) 

Dr. Pamela Iyer was the clear suspect. She matched the woman's appearance (besides the green skin and hair, she was a tall woman with long straight hair and a flat nose.) Batman interviewed her coworkers and found she had a history of being antisocial with eco terrorist beliefs. None of them knew where she lived, however. And when the bat interviewed her mother (the only person her coworkers had ever heard her speak to in a positive light) she was very concerned. Suspicious of Batman, clearly, but worried for her precious daughter's well being. She said that Pamela had always loved being near nature, and that she didn’t care for the quality of structure she had to stay in. But other than that, her mother couldn't help. She does bring out the intimidating motherly stare at Batman, making him promise to bring her daughter home safely. 

From here, Batman goes on a search. He prowls rooftops and streets and uses the grappling hook for fast travel. All while monitoring city-wide security cameras (thanks Alfred!) and paying attention to police radio. He stops muggings and thefts and helps get a cat out of a tree as he scans Old Gotham. 

He came to the conclusion Poison Ivy must be in Old Gotham due to damage on the Robinson Park Bridge, connecting Somerset with the southern island. The damage matched with what had been seen on the sidewalks and streets near the University and the scene of the crime. Dandelions and crabgrass taking the shape of human footprints, cracking through concrete. Batman notices some trees down a certain alleyway in the east streets are warped inwards. Very similar to the trees in the park and university. He follows the unusual growth pattern of the trees, like they were hands outstretching to reach a light source. 

There, he finds an old warehouse. He scales the building with a grappling hook, not wanting to be ambushed on the lower levels if he enters on the boarded up front door.  Entering through an old broken skylight, he finds what must've been a long abandoned drug dealer hideout covered in fresh blood. Very, very carefully, he examines the scene. But there's nobody there. She just got away, her blood on the rotting old sofa is still warm. He also notes three strands of long red hair, which he places in crime scene baggies for DNA analysis. 

His current theory is that the doctor was mutated by her own research. He read her notes and the plant she was experimenting with was extremely dangerous. And the security footage (before it cut out during what he believes was the time of the accident) showed her using improper safety equipment. 

He’s on patrol for hours, but can’t find any sign of her. 

That night, Bruce synthesizes a pesticide-like chemical that could prevent Ivy's powers. However, he talks to Alfred about how the plant would adapt to it almost like a bacteria, and that it might not be effective more than once. 

The next morning Bruce Wayne is scheduled for a charity event. Many rich people are there tied to a business venture Wayne was not aware of. The event was for funding for healthcare systems in Gotham. Little does he know, this is the exact place Ivy plans to attack. She’s hated the rich for years and many politicians and businessmen that support an amazon rainforest deforestation project are there. 

She interrupts their little charity event at a historical building in the financial district of old gotham with a surprise. Ivy broke into one of her old greenhouses at the university, taking small samples of extremely poisonous amazon rainforest plants with her. This happened quickly and silently while Bruce was still at the function. 

Ivy crashed through the large art-nouveau stained glass windows, supported by giant vines. She is lifted down the staircase like she was floating, more vines and deadly plants crawling in from the giant hole in the glass, moonlight from the full moon peeking through the clouds and illuminating her entrance. London Planetrees from around the building grow in front of doors, sealing all the possible exits. 

All of the rich and fancy people in dresses and suits meandering around the building are screaming and trying to run, which is when a mad-with-power Ivy releases her plants. 

They grow to gargantuan sizes in moments, releasing toxic spores and fumes and burning people's skin. Ivy finds the most heinous offenders of the rainforest bill and feeds them deadly plants by hand, graphic symptoms ensue. 

In the pandemonium, Bruce pulls out some tree facts about the flammability of a certain species, managing to throw a fire source directly at it as a diversion before escaping through a vent in the opposite wing of the hall. Alfred is already outside with the Batsuit, he brought it as soon as he learned of the attack. 

Bruce suits up and re-enters. It's a grueling and difficult battle, the most difficult he has fought so far. He manages to spray Ivy with the chemical, and she goes down, all the plants in the hall going still. The excessive toxic fumes suddenly go back to normal levels. Bruce uses an extremely strong tranquilizer on her, she’s still fighting to get up. Finally, Ivy is defeated.

Almost the whole charity gathering was injured in the attack with seven people dead and immense damage done to the structure of the historical hall. 

Ivy’s powers are sedated and she’s taken into police custody, where she is deemed insane. Half of the insanity conviction was her actual insanity and the other half was that Arkham is the only facility capable of holding her, especially since it’s located on an island. Batman agrees with Jim Gordon on this comment. 

Ivy didn’t say anything during her trial, silently glaring with little remorse. The physician diagnosed her with ASPD (which wasn’t right but it's on her legal documents.)

The comic ends with Ivy in Arkham, talking about the rich swine tearing apart the world, and how she finally has the power to stop them. How she can feel the mutation inside of her slowly winning against the sedative drugs, adapting and consuming the chemical to turn it into energy as it was designed to do. How she will return the world to ecologic harmony, with her own hands. It ends with her in the Arkham cafeteria, staring at a mysterious blonde prisoner a few tables across…

the writing isn't like, a fanfiction. its a guideline for a comic in a series of origins comics im planning. do not get your hopes up these'll be done in like, 10-20 years at my current speed. i have a scarecrow and riddler outline in the works, and plans for a batman, joker, harley quinn and probably a penguin comic eventually. and more villians. once i'm done with all the origins comics i'll be doing like, a regular batman series. just for fun yknow.

#poison ivy #pamela isley #the blonde woman was harley this is 100% a harlivy endgame universe #dc fanart #gotham rouges #harlivy #dc #poison ivy fanart #this plant creature and this gay girl wanna FUCK #ivys the type of fucked up fool to get gender euphoria from being called a critter. an organism even #just like me fr.... #harley steals blood donor bags from local hospitals on ivys birthday its like cannibal wine tasting #ivys a cannibal she has to eat raw meat but she doesnt have to eat human meat #its like 2 birds with one stone to her yknow #outletverse

[trashcanpurpledragon]

Miss you more than my life

PART 2

Lab at Night 10:31 pm

Donnie felt uneasy, like something was bothering him. Of course there was that thing with y/n and him, he knew deep inside he had to apologize to them, but he also knew he was far too prideful to say something… 

When the both of you got married, he told them that his work consumed most of his time, most of his life…but even at this warning they did not want to step back…

“You think i don’t know that? I have been working by your side for a bunch of years know so yeah…i know how your life can be 95% work…but… if you let me, i want to be that 5% left and who knows? maybe i will gain more terrain over time!”

He smiled at the thought of you both that day when the decision was made, your smile wide and eyes filled with happy tears, memories of happier times.

"We are so childish. When the shift is over, I'm gonna compensate for everything. I’ll fix all this mess." He thought.

He start thinking in every posible route for that talk, but in every single path the result was the same. They were gonna talk, probably gonna start fighting, maybe start crying again…oh dear Einstein no tears, he’s weak when they start crying… but then he was gonna apologize because now he knows his pride is not worthy of losing them. Waking up to a empty bed, seeing them everyday in a cold silence, colder than the space outsite the earth, not talking…not kissing… 

Who would say that him, the great Donatello Hamato, the one that dislikes physical touch most of the time. Who is the one protecting the whole base, THE MOST INTELLIGENT LIVING BEING!...would miss the touch of his love…their arms… resting his head on their legs and sleeping even when he knew he had more important things to do than staying in his partner's lap.

But…

Nothing is more important than them.

The softshell looked at the clock on the panel on his wall.

1 am 

He then stare at his work between his hands, it was incomplete but if this works they way he wanted, this stupid machine was gonna give them a heads up everytime a Krang started getting closer. Also, it would scan the persons approaching the resistance…a few weeks ago Michel had come with concerning news.

Apparently he found two krang-zombies but…they were fearly awake, of course they were visibly covered with krang parasites and when they got closer, the krang-zombies started attacking the whole team. 

There were no fatalities but…also no information and that was the thing that annoy the softshell the most.

Leonardo ordered to be more careful to any krang-zombie, but that made him worry.

If the krangs were playing with the bodys that they were infecting…then anything can happen, of course, everybody knows that those creatures are smart enough to play with biological material…but they had never showed any interest in doing things like this.

“Maybe…they want us to help the sick and…” Said Michel but he could not end that sentence.

“And attack the hideouts without them knowing where we are…they are getting impatient” ended Leonardo with an angry face.

The krangs were starting to attack not only physically…but mentally too, attacking the hope of the ones that lost their friends and families by using puppets of them.

“If only they could see that his work was gonna save a lot of lifes that could be in risk because of those stupid 2.0 krang-zombies” said donnie with annoyance and then…he remembered what he was thinking to begin with…

His stupid brain that hiperfocuses in the logical things but left behind the rest, Michel had told him again and again that not everything was about numbers and logic, but if the world could be just like THAT, if not everyone in this dumb dumb world could focus more in the importance of logics, the point of doing the math first and seeing that his way is not as bad as everyone tries to make it look like…it was not his intention to hurt them…it’s just that, his work is way more important than…

…No…

Wait

No

Nothing is more important than them…the persons he loves…

Is just…he cannot help everyone if he is not working, if he was working instead of resting maybe he would have foresing that new move in the krang plans and be wary of them…if the Krang notice the reaction of their teams at his new toy they will start doing more of them and worse, they would be better that the one his little brother saw back then.

The resistance don’t need him to be sleeping, they need him working! Damn it! why nobody can see it?, He is the only one smart enough to look ahead of the Krangs movements, if he was not working…What was his purpose?...He NEEDED to be useful for the people…for his family…for his love. 

Donnie let out a big sigh and turned his gaze to the ceiling above him, once again he is making excuses for his behavior…AGAIN. He punched the table where he is working making everything on it jump or fall.

“Damn bro, what has that table done to you? Jeez you nearly broke whatever that thing is” Oh that voice, the voice of his nightmares most of the time.

“What do you want Nardo, it’s not a good time” answered Donnie, annoyed without even turning the chair to look at his twin entering his lab.

Donnie stared at the machine that he was working on, without thinking, with no need of paying any attention to it. He had at least half of the structure of his machine done, this thing may be the key for security of the whole base, and let them rest with ease at least for a few weeks…or a waste of time and resources.

“Hey, Don” Leonardo brought him back again to reality.

“WHAT?” He snapped at him but only then, they looked at each other’s eyes.

Leonardo looked tired, this whole war did a number on every living being, but to his brother, to him it destroyed him on different levels. He looked older than his real age, his chasm is now way bigger than Raph ever was and his eyes don’t shine as bright as before. Donatello would never admit it but… he missed that shine in his twin eyes. Is not that his twin stoped being annoying with his puns or behavior…it just that sometimes when he thinks nobody is watching…he can see his twin losing his light for a bit before masking again.

“I was not gonna put my nose in whatever is happening between you and your spouse but this–”

“Good, then don’t put your nose in my marital problems” cut his twin without looking, without stoping working.

“Jar jar, common Dee, you know that i would never–” once again, Donnie interrupted him.

“And then here you are, bothering…again”

His brother made a growl and proceeded to cross his arms over his chest. While Donnie continued building his thing, never stopping being useful even when his twin was bothering him.

“YOUR LOVE was crying a few hours ago” says Leo, and only with those few words he had Donnie standing from his chair and looking directly at him.

“Are they ok?! why were they crying? are they hurt? is there any problem? is–” Leonardo let out a little laugh, not with malice, the whole scene was just to “cute” for him. 

In front of him instead of the grumpy twin of his that probably was sulfuring about hundred problems at the same time, moving his hand faster than his brain could think, that just a few minutes ago was yelling at him for being annoying and all that stuff, now that very same turtle is looking at him with worry all over his face, any piece of anger that was there now was replaced, and that look made him smile. There were few moments in life when his brother showed this type of worry for someone outside the family.

“He is so in love for them” though Leonardo

The red eared slider took donnie by his shoulders, so he would shut up and be still for enough time for him to explain everything. “They are ok!, Calm down dude” 

Donnie visibly relaxed after these words, and just stared at his twin knowing that those words were not the last ones.

“As i was saying, i’m not trying to meddle in your marriage or anything but you need to understand that after you both got married, they also became part of our family, that means if YOU make them cry i have to act as a good brother-in-law and come here to give you a talk”

“That’s not what a brother-in-law does…also that’s not your duty as a leader?” donnie looked at his brother raising an eyebrown

“...Why you both keep saying that?” Leo said irritated but continued “yes BUT i’m doing this because you and the other dumb dumb are part of the family, ‘cause they are YOUR other half…and as twins your are my other half, so that makes this whole situation a problem that at least should be talked about between both of us.”

At these statement Donnie just look at his brother, his twin and gave him a small smile and resigned to lisening whatever was gonna say.

“Aaaaaaaand also i just saved your sorry ass of having a session with doctor feelings” 

“I hate doctor feelings” was the only answer donnie gave with a shiver making leo laugh a bit more

“Look, i know that whatever happened was your fault” at this statement donnie made a “Hey!” that Leo cut before it could grow more “come on, you know is AT LEAST half true.”

Donnie didn’t say a thing, giving Leo a point.

“I don’t care for details, really, if you don’t want to tell me is fine but i think you both really need to talk, because what they told me is… kinda of… um… not sure if sad is the correct word but i guess is the closest thing i can come with.” said Leo while scratching his head.

“Did… did they say anything to you?” Donnie's voice was so small, almost afraid to know the answer but concerned enough to search for it “are they mad?”

“I will not tell you what exactly they said but… i can tell you that they are sad in a way that they are starting to have thoughts that will be a problem later if you both don’t fix this soon”

Donnie didn’t say anything so leo continued “Look, i know you love them, god knows that you are happy by their side. We, as your family, know your way of love, but sometimes you can be kind of… rude. You try to do all things on your own, even when we have told you before that you don’t need to be working 24/7… yes… we are at war and is… all of this is just bullshit… and that probably without you we would be far worse than we are now,  but you also need to rest and enjoy your partner while you can… since this war can take everything we love…”

The brothers look at each other, pain all over their faces, different kinds of pain; one of fear to run the same luck as his twin, the other with the pain of someone that lives with regret.

“I know you miss L/L too…” Donnie tried saying in an attempt to soothe his twin’s old pain.

“We are not talking about them or me for the matter” leo said with a hard voice and gave a big sigh “i’m just saying that you should try and talk”

“I…I know that” 

Both brothers stayed silent for a bunch of minutes before Leonardo broke it.

“Have you slept at all?” questioned 

“Scoff, as if i had the time. I’m working in something for the 2.0 Krang-zombies” answered Donnie looking at the table were his invention was laying…half build, half operational.

“And what that thing is? It looks like that killer robot from the movie of weird small dolls with numbers on their backs” start saying Leo getting closer and looking at the piece “yeah! that one that made Raph and Mikey had nightmare for like a whole week or so”

Donnie looked as his twin perplexed, he did not know what surprised him more: the fact of Leo remembering a movie that they watched when they were like 6 or the fact of Leo remembering ONE SINGLE  CHARACTER of a 2009 movie that they watched only once.

“When i finish it” Donnie started to say, ignoring the question “it will help us scan the persons entering our safe zone and keeping and eye out for the krangs getting close”

“Scan the persons?” asked Leo looking at his brother 

“I build it for the 2.0 Krang-zombies as i just told you, do you ever listen to me?”

“Yeah but you usually made things in the computer, like programs and all that stuff. It has been a while since you actually build something outsite the cars or something for the base” said Leo “The krang-pupets also put you alert?”

“Krang…puppets?” he could not be serius

“yeah, the troups haven’t seen one since Mikey, but we are all wary…The fact that they still could talk and Mikey could not heal them…”

“Yeah…”

But before Donnie could say anything Leo spoke

“Let’s go”

The softshell look at him confused “Go were?”

“To the communication room, it’s like 4 and half or so” 

“What? No, it’s around 2 am, I looked a few minutes ago and–” it was in fact 4:43 am, he had been working so much that lost the notion of time “It’s 4:41…but what’s the use of going? They are probably working and waiting for their shift to end”

“You my brother, are ZERO romantic” Leo smiled at the annoyed face of his twin “Their shift ends at 6am right? Then you both could crack a few lines and have a smooth beginning when you see each other face to face”

They look at each other…and then “Tired sigh…Fine” 

Leo smiled at his victory and both of them started walking, talking about stupid things Leo wanted him to say over the com that OF COURSE he would never say, because 

a) It was impractical

b) It was stupid

c) He was not gonna give Leonardo another victory

and most importantly!

d) He was gonna say it in private with Y/N and only with them alone

“Common Dee! what’s the worst that could happen? It’s not a matter of life and death, they are literally at the door” questioned a very happy Leonardo

“Says the turtle that hates doing guarding shifts” answered a very annoyed Donatello.

“I hate being still, anyways they have the safest jobs today. It’s fine”

And even at this words, Donatello was still feeling uneasy. They arrived at the central com and looked at the time in the clock on the wall.

4:58 am

COMMENTS!

Editor’s note: I was promised two drawings in exchange for correcting any mistranslation or errors on this fanfic. Sorry if I missed any.  Enjoy your sad turtles.

Autor’s note: shut it and work  >:) Everyone say hi to this new character called Editor (She’s my older sister)

Editor: Hi 👁️

Anyways... Thank you for been so patient waiting for this fanfic to continue, yes there is at least two more parts of this history 💜 I'M REALLY sorry if there is something that does not make sense, english is not our first language 😥

Also L/L is the lover of Leonardo~

TAGS!!

The original autor! @fishsticksloser (Thankyou for letting me work in this history :DD)

And here is the original work

Part 1

Stay tune~

#rottmnt x reader #rise donnie x reader #rottmnt future leo #rottmnt future au #rottmnt future donnie #rise of the tmnt #rottmnt donnie x reader #rottmnt future donie x reader #rottmnt fanfiction

[1mmeee2]

The Nightmare (Gregory House x Reader) 

Request:

writing-multifandoms

Hi, I just had a pretty intense nightmare. Can I please request House x reader where reader stops sleeping due to nightmares and House notices and helps and eventually they just one day end up passing out from exhaustion and they are asleep on his shoulder? Sorry if that's too long! Thank you.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

Today, like for the passed week or so was not good. Recently you barely got enough sleep from all the nightmares you've gotten, and it's even worse when your basically needed to the hospital 24/7 waking up early as 5am and staying late at 1am . "Ms. Y/L/N, we got a patient for you in room 231. It's a little girl with a high fever and is growing rashes on her body." One of the nurses said to me making me nod. "Uh… sure, yes… yes… Okay." You said tiredly rubbing your eyes as you walked you way to the room. Before you entered in the room you quickly fixed your hair and forced yourself a present and soft smile ready to show your not at all dying from lack of sleep.

"Good morning, Mr and Ms, Phylis." You said nicely as the two greeted you back. "So… anything?" Ms. Phylis asked worriedly as you checked all the little girl Amy's tests which showed she had a mild fever. "She's all good for now, nothing severe. Once we figure out what she needs, we'll be giving her amoxicillin to help with both her skin and her fever." You explained to the two. "What does that do?" Mr. Phylis asked making her sigh as your brain couldn't remember what they do.

"Uh… It helps kill the bacteria and helps with ear infection, strep throat, pneumonia, skin infections, and more." You said sighing hoping your not mixing up different medication. "All right, thank you doctor." Mr. Phylis said as I nodded and checked Amy's IV and left the room to turn in some papers to House.

Like before, when you stood outside is door you quickly made a soft look and tried your best not to look tired and entered in House's office. "Got some papers for you to sign." You said softly to House who looked at you weirdly. "So are you now a late drinker?" House asked you making you look at him confused. "No… What makes you think that?" You asked him a bit offended by him. "You're eye bags are very dark, your concealer isn't doing it's job." House said making you look away from him to look at yourself in a mirror close by and saw how your eyes bags were indeed showing itself.

"Shit…" You said as basically everyone, every doctor, every nurse, every patient you've seen all basically saw your eyes. "Wow, Ms Y/L/N you said a bad word." House said making you roll your eyes annoyed at his rudeness. "Okay, yes I haven't gotten enough sleep… But I didn't drink… I've just been having a hard time sleeping for the past--" "Few weeks, yeah. I've noticed." House said getting up from his office chair walking towards you.

"How do you know?" You asked while House lifts your face up to face him as he inspects your eyes more. "You're my employee of this team, and I must say, you are very terrible at hiding things." House said to you making me sigh in annoyance. "Look, I'll… I'll try to get more sleep. I just can't." You said so pissed off, but not because of House and stuff, but it was because you barely got any sleep for the past week or so. "Then what is the issue for your lacking of sleep?" House asked you. "It's just hard to sleep recently." You said fighting with your fingers.

"By the look of your posture and your attitude… You can't sleep because of nightmares… Your always anxious… you magically one day can't sleep right… any time something bad or off happens you pinch yourself probably to make sure your not dreaming… So… you got those nightmares… huh little kid." House said making you both shocked and pissed at him. "Look, if your not gonna help, I'll deal with it myself and continue my job." You said walking towards the door to leave his office. "What would you do? To help your nightmares?" House asked but genuinely curious.

"Maybe some sort of pill? Prazosin seems to be my best option." You said thinking about going to the pharmacy to get some. "No, you're not." House said suddenly confusing you. "When did you start telling what I can and can't do in my personal life?" You asked him. "It's been weeks you've been having this, and you are for sure the one person I know who'd get quickly dependent on any pill… making you and addict." House said softly at the end but to you… you just got annoyed. "Look… you have no say in what I do to help myself." You said angrily opening the door and left to continue to work.

-Time Skip-

It soon got late and your basically at the verge of passing out. So you walked over to the washing stalls and started washing your face to wake yourself up as you're going to be staying at the hospital longer then usual. As you stared at yourself at the mirror your pager rang making you look and saw House as paged you making you sigh in annoyance not wanting to talk to house.

"What?" You asked entering his office. "Whoa, you look way worse then earlier today." House said making her roll your eyes. "What is it you need?" You asked him. "You're going to rest here." House said using his cain and pointed at his couch. "I can't sleep, I have patients and paper work to do." You said but felt a hit of exhaustion making everything blurry and you soon started feeling your body move left and right. "I think you should sleep. Can't have you pass out on your patients." House said getting up from his seat and quickly helped you down on his couch as he sat down next to you. "I'm fine…" You said weakly but you and him knew you're tired. "Just rest." House said to you as you closed your eyes and let your boy finally relax. Soon enough you slowly felt your head resting on House's shoulder which would freak you out but at this point you didn't give a shit and got that sleep you needed.

As you slept on House's shoulder, he just sat there a bit awkwardly but also quite fine with you there. Recently House himself even noticed how much kinder he is towards you and how he'd let you get away with things that would usually piss him off. And sleeping on his shoulder would be that… But he just continued looking at you and didn't move not wanting to wake you up, looking at you in a loving way as he too slowly closed his eyes to rest.

#oneshot #xreader #gregory house x reader #gregory house #house md #house x reader #gregory house imagine #greg house #house md imagine

[insurrection-if]

TW / Content Warning: death, loss, euthanasia

Apologies for oversharing after such a long period of silence, but tonight has cemented my thoughts towards this blog and its future status.

My eldest dog, Charlie, has passed away at the near age of thirteen. After his health scare in February, he had seemingly recovered and pepped back up to his usual goofy mama’s boy self. I am so thankful for these last several weeks I was able to enjoy with him, and feel so blessed to have seen him hold the strength that he did up until last night.

His condition plummeted rapidly and suddenly last afternoon. The veterinarians at the emergency clinic suspected a brain tumor yesterday, alongside (a) stroke(s), and confirmed this diagnosis just before he finally passed. We didn’t even have the time or money to undergo further testing to affirm what was then a theorized, tenuous diagnosis before it was clear that his time had come. It is confirmed to us now that cancer, not an infection, has likely been the main instigator of his health scare back in February. It’s a blessing that he didn’t suffer or dampen in his joy these past several weeks, up until yesterday, while afflicted with this illness.

Charlie used to be my great-grandfather’s dog. We took him into our home after my great-grandfather passed and his home was lost to our family. Charlie came to us in such poor health, and amazed us all with his recovery and clumsy energy these past two years. At that time, those most optimistic were projecting he only had a few months or so, and to see him having lived so long a full a life in the time he’s been under our roof (for far longer than anyone had foreseen) has been a wonder beyond comprehension. For the gift of his companionship, I cannot express enough of my gratitude.

I truly believe he’s in a better place. Goodness, I cried and prayed my heart out last night when I just absolutely felt in my soul what was around the corner - even when the clinic had then cleared him to come home and told us he would be fine. And even with all this time to be with him and give my goodbyes, it still doesn’t feel right to not have him walking into my room and insisting he be carried up to the bed all with a little wiggle of excitement in his hips.

These past few years were a good life for him. Even yesterday, when he began to show signs of and fall deep into weakness, confusion, and fatigue he still wagged his tail when I laid my hand on him and tried his best to follow the sound of my voice.

For those of you less interested in my personal matters and more so in just whatever content I can produce, this event has finalized some thoughts I’d been having a week or so before this in regard to this blog.

This is not a hiatus. Rather, this blog will be silent until I have a form of demo (‘short’ still in length) that I’m satisfied enough with to share. It’s been stressful balancing this guilt of not responding enough and the guilt of responding too much on this blog. And, with this great loss in my life, I don’t think I will regain the right headspace to manage this blog and my responses on it anytime soon.

Apologies for the silence and, now, the suddenness of this change in matters.

For all those with pets, whether they be full of health or struggling a little more with their once daily routine, please take the time to really show them all the love and care you hold for them each day. Please cherish your time with them, be kind to them, and form as many close memories as you can with them. It’s so easy to take time we have with them for granted. I’m so glad to have provided the home I did for Charlie, and hope he knows just I much I loved him and will keep loving him even now that he’s gone ahead of me to our next destination.

Again, apologies for becoming too personal with all this. The emotional wound is still so fresh and I simply hoped to vent as I clarified my current stance around this narrative. So many of you have been the absolute embodiment of gracious patience and abundant kindness with me and my nonsense here on this blog, and I thank you all deeply for it.

Here’s to hoping I return sooner rather than later with something good, or at least decent, to share.

See you soon.

#personal #tw: death #tw: loss

[tightjeansjavi]

Burning in a Hopeless Dream

Boston QZ: Part 5 ‘Long Long Time’

A/N: holy fuck. Can you see my tears through the screen? This chapter was so difficult to write. It’s so fucking beautiful and it hurts. My god does it hurt. Hope you all have the tissues and wine ready, you’re gonna need it ☻

Summary: Joel and Tess leave the Boston QZ and go to Bill and Franks to retrieve the medicine for you. Joel is determined to hold his promise to you true and return in 3 days time. Will he keep that promise? Or will logic of the situation at hand and his conflicted feelings for Tess, get in the way?

~word count : 5k~ (longest chapter yet, babes!)

Warnings: age gap (m/c is 28) angst, love triangle, mentions of death, mentions of child loss, swearing, unrequited love, conflicted feelings, betrayal, implied smut, feelings of guilt (+18) minors dni !

Songs for this chapter:

“Long Long Time” by Linda Ronstadt

“tolerate it” by Taylor Swift

“Roslyn” by Bon Iver & St Vincent

“my tears ricochet” by Taylor Swift

“It’ll All Work Out” by Phoebe Bridgers

“Lover, Please Stay” by Nothing But Thieves

“illicit affairs” by Taylor Swift

“Fine Line” by Harry Styles

________________

October 2020: 10 miles outside the Boston QZ

Joel was never one to admit that he was good at communicating his feelings. Even before the world as he knew it, ended. He struggled. Sarah was always there to help him along the way, always encouraging him, and he never thanked her enough for it. Joel however, was good at picking up on a person’s body language. He could figure you out with just one look. If you were deemed a good person, he’d know. If you were nervous, he’d know. He had no issues picking up on human emotions and moreso, with those closest to him.

So when Tess had barely exchanged more than a few words with him as they made the trek out of the Boston QZ, he knew she was upset. When she refused to take his offered hand over a pile of rubble, he knew she was fucking livid with him. As they moved through the barren city, he took a mental note that there were more infected crawling through each year. He recounted the safest routes, and the unsafe ones. Joel was extremely observant when it came to the possibility of life, or death. Tess was always a good talker, Joel had come to find this out quickly when they had first met. She was fierce, determined and loyal to a fault. When it came to interrogating someone, Joel always let her take the reins. While he would be in the back of the room, leaned against the door, arms crossed casually, and his teeth grinding. His eyes would be locked on whatever fucker crossed them this time, waiting for his moment to come. Tess was the brains, and Joel? Joel was the guns. Their partnership flowed flawlessly, till you came along.

The truth was, Tess probably wouldn’t have hated you as much as she did if you hadn’t thrown a knife at her man’s face three years ago. She remembers the rage she felt towards you like it had happened just yesterday. She’d be lying to herself if she hadn’t wished that you had been infected, just so she could kill you herself. Tess believed that you two probably could have been friends if things had gone differently. If you had stayed at an arm's length, instead of living in her home? Sure, you could be friends. Tess knew that you were useful. That was one thing she would willingly admit but ever since you stepped into Joel’s life, she felt him slipping away from her, day by day. Feelings were dangerous, especially in a world where you had no clue if you would wake to see the sunrise again. Tess never asked Joel to reciprocate her feelings for him. It was an unspoken rule between them. She knew he did care for her from his acts of service, it was his love language. She had figured it out the first time he had taken care of her when she was wounded, nearly a decade ago. It made her feel special but now that he had given you the same treatment, those feelings dissipated.

She had walked far ahead of him as they had made it out of the fallen city, unscathed. She wanted him to know that she was upset with him. That this was not worth risking her life. She wasn’t doing this for you, she was doing this for him. Her loyalty was to a fault, even when she knew he was wrong.

Joel had to take long strides to keep up with her, muttering about his back as the sun beat down on them. It may be October but it was unseasonably mild for this time of the year. Finally, he spoke. Raising his voice an octave so she could hear him.

“Can you slow it down for a minute? Tess?”

She slowed her pace then, coming to a stop before she turned towards him, hands on her hips. She was annoyed.

“I thought it was absolutely crucial to you that we get to Bill and Frank’s before nightfall.”

She watched as Joel had finally caught up to her, one hand on his lower back as he straightened his posture, letting out a low huff. “Yeah.” he spoke. “That’s what I said, and we’ll still make it there no problem. But there ain’t no reason for us to be using up all our energy on walkin this fuckin fast.”

She nodded then, her lips curving up into a small grin as she shook her head at him. “Oh, alright. Well considering it’s really not all that important after all, why don’t we catch our breath? Enjoy the absolutely fuckin breathaking scenery.” She deadpanned.

He chuckled then. Using his hand to shield his eyes from the sun as he looked around at the vast amount of trees surrounding them. “Y’know what? You’re absolutely right. Let's stop here for a while and I'll get us some cold ones. Doesn’t that sound nice? Give me a fuckin break, Tess.” He walked ahead of her then, shoulder checking her as he passed.

“Look at you old man. Real jokester now, huh?” She walked after him then, giving his back a good shove because fuck him for getting annoyed with her. He had no right.

Joel spun around then, kicking up a cloud of dirt from how quickly he had turned to face her. His eyes were narrowed and the veins on the side of his neck were bulging out. “You really want to start this right here, right now? You gotta be fuckin kidding me.”

“We shouldn’t even be out here right now Joel. This is fucking stupid and you know it. She has a fever, for fuck sakes! She’s not dying and there are far more important things that we could be doing right now. I swear to god if we end up dying to get this fuckin medicine, I will haunt you for the rest of your dying days.” She threw her hands up in the air exasperated.

“Then why the hell did you agree to come with Tess? Hmm? You think this is so stupid? Fine, go back home then. I can handle this shit on my own. No problem.” He spoke sternly. She could hear the hint of disappointment in his tone.

“I agreed to come with you because we’re a team, Joel.”

“Yeah? Are we really a team Tess? Cause lately all you’ve been ‘fuckin wantin to do is argue. Getting this medicine for Gwen is important to me so like I just said, you don’t wanna be here? Then leave.” He looked her in the eyes momentarily before he turned on his heel and continued down the trail, his shoulders tense and his knuckles clenching at his sides.

His words stung, cutting into her like knives and she stood there for a moment, hesitating. A part of her wanted to turn around and go back home. Except, the Boston QZ was never her home. Not really and especially not with you in it. She half expected her partner to turn around, to make sure that she was still behind him. Her hope was diminished as he continued walking. Tess was beginning to realize in that moment that Joel was no longer entirely hers. The shimmering mirage of their once flawless partnership was fading fast; faster than she could keep up with.

Joel was pissed, furious even. His feelings were conflicted. Tess had been his partner in crime forever and he had grown to care for her. How could he not? He had seen her through her highs, and her lows. He had taken care of her when she was injured and she had done the same for him. With you now in the picture, things had become muddled for him. He couldn’t quite grasp what he felt for you. You were attractive, there was no doubt there but why the hell was he going out of his way for you like this? Risking his life? Why did he care so much? Deep down, Joel knew the answer, but he was too ashamed to admit it.

Joel knew he had to be the bigger man. His nature was to be stubborn, hard headed. It’s my way or the highway. Hit the road Jack, fuck you mentality. Being the bigger man was never easy. In order to appease Tess, he was going to have to go against his nature.

When he could no longer hear her footsteps behind him, he stopped in the middle of the dirt trail. Digging the heel of his worn boots into the dusty earth, physically having to ground himself from continuing forward without her. Swallowing his pride, he slowly turned around and walked back towards her. Each step he took felt heavier and heavier. Once she was close enough where she could hear him, he stopped. Turning his head to the side slightly, his jaw clenched before he finally looked at his partner.

“Alright. I’m only gonna say this once so please, just listen to me Tess.”

He watched her slowly come to a halt in front of him, arms crossed over her chest and she gave a slight nod, indicating that he was allowed to continue.

“Now I know how you feel about Gwen. Hell, I know that last night you were probably prayin for that device to turn red, right? Just so you could shoot her yourself.”

“You’re right, I was.” She spoke with zero hesitation.

He gave her a slight look then, a disapproving one.

“Yeah, that part is pretty fuckin clear to me. What I’m tryin to say is that you’re right. Goin out here to get her some medicine is fuckin stupid. She ain’t gonna die. It’s just a little fever, right?”

“What are you fuckin tryin to get at here Joel? If you’re just gonna throw it back in my face, don’t waste your fucking breath.” She spoke, already turning her body away from him to walk away.

Joel had reached out and grabbed her arm firmly, pulling her back around to face him.

“Don’t you fuckin turn your back on me when I’m talkin to you Tess. Don’t you dare.”

She narrowed her eyes at him then before glancing down at his fingers wrapped around her arm, his touch burned. She hated how he had this effect on her.

“I agree that it’s fuckin stupid but I made a promise back there. I promised her that we would get her the medicine, and be back in three days time. I intend to keep that fuckin promise with, or without you.”

His grip softened slightly, their chests were close enough to touch and every fiber in his being was screaming at him for allowing them to be exposed out in the open like this. Their breaths were mixing together, he had sweat dripping down his brow from the sun beating down on them and his chapped lips were slightly parted. Even in this condition, he looked kissable. He always looked kissable.

“Please, Tess. I don’t wanna fight with you anymore.” His tone was soft, whispering to her like the soft breeze through the tri-colored leaves dangling from the branches above.

Tess could feel her walls crumbling from his every word. Her mind was screaming at her to not fall for the trap he had set. He was playing her like a violin, a perfect melody, only for her ears. Her heart sang for him, their lives could end at any moment and it wouldn’t have mattered because at least now she knew that Joel Miller still felt for her.

“Fine.” She finally spoke. Her free hand had been gently placed on his chest, pushing him back a few steps because the close proximity was killing her, depleting the oxygen in her lungs and shrouding her sense of self control.

“We’re wasting precious daylight just standing here. Let’s move.” She refused to meet his eyes as she pulled her arm from his grip, and walked past him once more.

Joel stood there for a moment as she walked ahead of him. Grinding his teeth together before he took a deep breath. He hoped that this would be the last argument they would have over you. He was naive to believe that this would be the last time, not when you were unknowingly driving a wedge between him and Tess. He couldn’t blame you, not really. You hadn’t done anything wrong. Other than the fact that somehow you had chipped away through rough terrain enclosing his heart. You had chipped away the rubble, piece by piece and Joel knew then that he felt for you.

After stopping at the abandoned gas station where the pair had stashed ammo from their frequent trips out of the QZ, they had a 5 mile hike ahead of them before they would reach Bill and Frank's oasis. Their walk was silent, both parties were deep in their thoughts. The tension could be cut through with a knife. Joel hated every second of this hike. The only comfort he could find was from the gentle breeze through the trees and the occasion song of a nearby cardinal.

He walked behind his partner, his gaze burning holes into the back of her head. She could feel it. Tess had come to a slow stop up ahead. Joel knew why. He remembered the first time they had come out here. Finding the skeletal remnants of people. Healthy, innocent, people. Tess had collapsed into his arms that day, her sobs sinking into the sweat soaked fabric of his shirt. He remembers the way his hands held her body close to his, his fingers splayed across her lower back. He felt his own tears begin to well in his eyes. He had past visions of Sarah. The sound of his pleas for the soldier to not shoot. The bullets whizzing, her fallen body in the dried grass. “You’re okay. Please, you’re okay. Move your hand, baby.” He remembers the fear in his baby girl’s eyes. Her blood soaked shirt. her blank, lifeless stare. Her body going cold in his grasp as he clutched her to his chest, sobbing.

Joel came beside her then, looking down at the remains. These people were not infected. They were innocent and healthy. Just like his baby girl and the government didn’t care. They were just as merciless as the cordyceps. He lightly brushed his fingers against her arm, catching her attention as she leaned into his embrace. They stood over the makeshift grave, unspoken. The moment ended when Tess could no longer feel his warmth. He had walked away.

They continued on. Approaching the abandoned town shortly after, that now only inhabited Bill and Frank. You remember the first time you met Bill and Frank. Bill didn’t like you, naturally. He didn’t like anyone you came to find out. Except Frank, he adored Frank. Frank had adored you. Called you his little bird. You both shared passions for the simple things in life. A good book, wine and art. All kinds of art. While you and Frank would be puttering around the house showing you his new paintings, Joel, Tess and Bill would be talking business. Joel remembered the first time he saw your true smile, when he heard your infectious laugh. This little piece of normalcy, hidden away from the cruel truths of the outside world made you so fucking happy. Joel saw the way your eyes lit up and god, did it twist his heart.

It felt wrong to him that moment that you weren’t there with them. He imagined your misery back in the quiet apartment with your lucid fever. Pushing his emotions aside, Joel and Tess stopped at the chain link fence before he pressed down on the buttons, typing in the code he knew by heart now. The gate opened seconds later as they walked through. Listening to the gate close behind them with a light clink.

Bill and Frank were not expecting any guests today. You, Joel and Tess were their only “friends” and normally, Joel would give Bill a heads up through the radio system but this time he hadn’t. Bill wasn’t phased when Joel and Tess popped up on the monitor screen while he sat in his doomsday bunker. He muttered under his breath then, something along the lines of, “these fuckers really couldn’t give me a heads up?” “Fuckin Joel.” He continued, slowly rising from his chair and headed up the ladder, pushing the latch up before his head appeared from the bunkers opening.

“Frank!” He yelled. No answer. With a huff, he pulled himself out of the bunker and latched the door shut.

“Frank!” He yelled again, frustratingly this time.

“Yes?” His lover’s voice answered him from the sun room, which was now his own art studio.

“We got company.” He could hear Frank's excited footsteps padding towards him then. It had been awhile now since they had seen their friends.

“Our little Bird?” He asked hopefully.

Bill shook his head then. “Just Joel and Tess this time. Woulda appreciated the heads up.”

Frank’s face fell slightly when his lover confirmed that you weren’t with them this time. He hoped that you were okay and that nothing had happened. He was quite fond of you.

“Now, where would the fun be in that?” He mused. Leaning down and grabbing his lover's face gently, pressing a quick kiss to his lips before he pulled away, heading towards the front door.

Bill was already walking towards the kitchen. He was annoyed but he took pride in being a good host. He loved to cook. Just as much as he loved a good bottle of wine, specifically a bottle of ‘Louis Jadot Beaujolais-Villages.’ It paired nicely with roast rabbit and sautéed root vegetables. Just the right amount of sweetness to spice; notes of strawberries and black cherries. Light on the palate.

While Bill was tending to the meal, Frank was outside, greeting the unexpected arrival of their friends. He knew Joel wasn’t a hugger by any means but Tess was always open to one. He embraced her, giving her a light squeeze. Joel had given him a slight head nod, hands shoved deep in his jean pockets. Small talk was shared as Frank brought them over to the outdoor dining set up, pulling the chairs back for them like a good host. He went inside momentarily, grabbing the wine and plates and shortly after, Bill had come outside with their meal.

Once the plates were set, the wine was poured, the conversation ensued. Bill was the first to speak as he cut a small chunk of the perfect roasted rabbit on his plate.

“So to what do we owe the pleasure? Would it also kill ya to use the damn radio Joel? That’s what it’s there for. Y’know, to communicate.”

Joel had taken a sip of his wine, letting it seep into his taste buds. It was far more satisfying than his hooch at home.

“Sorry ‘bout that. I had meant to give you that heads up but we were in a rush. Didn’t have the time.”

Bill raised his brow then as he stared at the broader man across the table and as he was about to speak, his lover cut him off.

“Where’s our little bird?” Frank asked, a sense of caution in his tone. If something had happened to you, he would be devastated.

Joel paused then, looking at Tess for a moment before he sighed, leaning back against the chair slightly as he spoke.

“She’s sick.”

Bill was already pulling his gun from his holster, pointing it at Joel. He didn’t hesitate.

Joel didn’t even flinch. Bill had pulled a gun on him the first time they met so there was no room for him to be surprised and he couldn’t really blame him. He would have done the same thing if he were in Bill’s shoes.

“Easy now. Don’t point that gun in my face. She ain’t infected and neither are we. She has a fever, a bad one. Chance she might not make it. We came out here ‘cause she needs medicine. There’s nothing in the QZ, and the hospitals outside the city have been picked over.”

Bill, seeing that there was no immediate threat, grabbed his gun and tucked it back in the holster.

“You really didn’t have a fuckin chance to say that over the radio?”

“Nope. Didn’t want to risk someone hearin and we had to move quick.”

Frank was already getting up from his seat, his body turned in the direction of the house to go and get the medicine and some herbal teas for you. Bill had reached out and grabbed his arm firmly then. “Hang on there just a minute, Frank.”

“She’s sick. They need the medicine and I'm going to go get it.”

Bill let out a deep sigh then, releasing his lover’s arm then before he faced forward.

“Well, I'm sorry that she’s sick. Hope she makes it through.”

Joel could only nod then as he reached into his pocket, pulling out a carton of bullet cartridges and a packet of strawberry seeds, sliding it across the table.

“Sorry it’s not more. Fedra has been ‘crackin down hard lately and we don’t have the particular taste to end up in lock up. Can’t really afford that right now.”

Bill nodded, grabbing the bullet cartridges and the packet of strawberry seeds.

“Don’t sweat it, Joel. I know how those fucks can be. We’d be all better off if they would just fuck off and eat a bag of dicks.”

Joel couldn’t help but grin a little then and he imagined you would have found Bill’s comment to be humorous. Maybe you would even giggle. Joel swore that he could hear your sweet laugh now, it was haunting him.

“Thank you. You know how much I appreciate it.”

“Like I said, don’t sweat it.”

The three returned to their meal, savoring each bite. The only sound that could be heard was the occasional clinking of cutlery on china.

Frank had returned with a small burlap sack, tied with twine. Inside was the medicine you would need. Aspirin, cough drops and herbal teas. He had also included a small portrait of you on a homemade canvas. The canvas edges were rough and bumpy, but your face was distinguishable and life-like. He walked over to Joel then, placing the sack down in front of him.

Joel gave the other man a slight nod then, grabbing the small sack and slipped it into his coat pocket.

_________

The sun was beginning to set and there was a slight chill in the air. Joel and Tess were kind enough to help the couple clean up after their meal, Tess helping with the dishes in the kitchen while Joel was out front with Bill, checking to make sure there were no weaknesses in the perimeter fence. He was on edge as it grew darker, all he could think about now was getting back to you.

Bill seemed to have been reading his thoughts then.

“You’re not seriously thinkin of turning this into a suicide mission, are you? We had raiders last month man. Had to reinforce the fence. You don’t wanna be out there when it's pitch black out Joel. Trust me.”

Joel rolled his shoulders back then, he knew it was completely illogical for them to travel back to the QZ overnight. It was dangerous and there was no doubt in his mind that it could turn into a suicide mission in a flash.

“We don’t have much of a choice. You don’t understand, Bill. She could die from this. Common illnesses can still be unforgiving, especially now.”

Bill chuckled then. Shaking his head cause he knew Joel had it bad for you. It was obvious considering the lengths he was going for you. Risking his life like this. It was completely irrational.

“Well, good luck with convincing Tess that you’re leaving tonight.” He gave him a small salute then and headed inside.

Joel felt his shoulders slump inwards then, watching as Bill walked away and he knew he was going to have to fight tooth and nail with Tess, again.

“Yeah. Thanks for that. G’nna need all the fuckin luck I can get.” He gruffly spoke to himself.

The sun had completely dipped on the horizon, darkening the sky as the million of stars above were beginning to peek through the black cloak.

Joel had headed into the house then, lightly closing the door behind him and he could hear Linda Ronstadt’s ‘Long Long Time’ crackling through the old record player in the living room and Tess and Frank’s warm chatter flowing through the kitchen. The worn wood creaked under the heavy footsteps of his boots. He paused outside the opening of the kitchen, leaned against the cabinets, with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Tess, we gotta head out. It’s gettin dark.”

Tess slowly turned her head then, her face falling ever so slightly at her partner's request and she set down the towel she had been using to dry the dishes. Frank gave her a sympathetic look and grabbed his half filled glass of wine and left the kitchen quietly.

“You’re honestly out of your goddamn mind if you think we’re gonna travel tonight and make it out alive Joel.”

“You knew this was coming Tess. We ate, we got the medicine, and now we have to leave.”

She ran her fingers through her hair then. Smoothing her ponytail down slightly to ground herself.

“Joel. We’re not gonna make it 5 miles out there without the daylight and you fuckin know it.”

He scoffed then. Chewing on his lower lip hard because while he was being stubborn and irrational, he knew Tess was right. They wouldn’t make it very far out there like this.

“I don’t care. We can make camp at the midpoint and I'll stay on watch the whole night.”

Tess took a few steps towards him then, finding herself standing between his legs, smoothing her hands up his chest, feeling his muscles tense beneath her touch.

“Joel, we’re staying here. We’re spending the night. We’re gonna shower and have a decent fucking nights sleep and then we’ll leave in the morning.”

He breathed through his nose then, turning his head to the side slightly with his jaw clenched and his hands balled in fists at his sides.

“Fine. You can stay here and have all that Tess. I’m leaving.” He spoke with a sense of finality in his tone.

She had grabbed his jaw then with her fingers, forcing him to look at her then. Her other hand was wrapped around the collar of his shirt, fingers threading through the worn material.

“Joel. I’m exhausted. You’re exhausted and we’re safe here. We will leave first thing in the morning, I promise.”

Joel allowed her to turn his head to face her. He didn’t have it in him to argue anymore. He was exhausted and a shower and warm bed sounded fucking delightful. He felt guilty in those moments because he felt like he was betraying you and breaking the promise he made.

His fists slowly unclenched as he brought his hands around her waist, playing with the thin material of her shirt. He looked into her eyes and gave her a short nod of his head. He had made his decision then.

“Fine. we’ll shower, spend the night and leave first thing in the morning.”

Tess had loosened her grip on his jaw then. Letting her fingers gently brush across the coarse hair of his beard.

“Good. You could really use a shower. Could smell you a mile away.”

He felt his lips quirk up slightly from her playful remark but his heart hurt, and the guilt swirled around his gut like crashing waves on the rocky shoreline.

He helped his partner finish with the dishes then as if this was a normal routine for them. As if for a moment this was their simple, domestic life together. They bid their goodnights to the couple before heading to the guest room.

Joel allowed her to strip him of his clothing while the steam from the shower enveloped them in a comforting warmth. Coating their skin and the mirror behind them. He allowed her to scrub away the dirt and grime from his body under the scalding stream. His eyes were closed as the water beat down on him. He shouldn’t enjoy these simple pleasures. Not when he knew you were in pure misery, miles and miles away. He allowed himself to open his eyes, dip his head down before capturing her lips between his. Kissing her languidly with his hand gingerly cupping her face as he backed her into the shower wall. He allowed himself to bury himself in her, drinking in her whimpers as he jutted his hips into hers over, and over again. Your image was plastered into his brain with each sharp thrust. He could see the disappointment painted on your beautiful face, your tears soaking your soft skin, leaving salty streaks in their wake.

He finished with his face buried in her shoulder, biting down on her soft skin, panting out her name, above a whisper. His heart was screaming yours. He allowed himself to share one final kiss before he pulled away, turning the handle to the side and listening to the water still and lightly drip. He grabbed a towel for himself, wrapping it around his hips and grabbed the other for her. Gently wrapping her in its warmth.

That night while his body was tangled with his partner, holding her close to his chest, enveloped under the warmth and comfort of fresh sheets. He thought about you and the guilt of his betrayal. His sins against you. He broke his promise and he was going to have to live with it.

In your misery, you cried yourself to sleep that night. Clutching the blanket through trembling fingers. The worn pillow beneath your head soaked in your tears. Your last thought before sleep overcame your senses was Joel, and his promise of return. You held onto his promise like an oath.

CHAPTER 6:

#pedro pascal #the last of us #joel miller #pedro pascal characters #joel miller fanfiction #joel the last of us #joel x tess #the last of us fanfiction #joel tlou #tlou #tlou x reader #tlou fanfiction #bill and frank #burning in a hopeless dream fic #chapter 5 !!! #tight jeans javi #joel miller fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fic #joel miller x female oc #joel miller x f!oc

[justporo]

Hey Poro. I don't recall you ever talking about your Tav. Do you have any posts about them or any cool info you wanna share? (Saw you were open to asks, so I thought I'd drop one hæhæ)

Oh yes, hello! I guess you're right. And that although she's the Tav in most all of my stories (especially my longform fics).

So let me introduce my wonderful girl to you. And yes: her name is indeed just Tav. Don't come for me - I didn't plan for any of this but now here we are. I am just Poro and she is just Tav.

I'm always happy about questions about my girl tho - I do have a background story and all flashed out for her. I just... never talked about it??

Oh, and she's been my profile pic from very early one, I am still in love with the wonderful drawing @azaani-art did of her!

Full Name: Tav (yes, that's it, maybe she takes on Ancunín sometime, eh?) Race: Woodelf Class: Ranger (Urban tracker background) Height: 5'5 Pronouns: She/Her

More about her personality and backstory below the cut!

Personality: She's witty, rebellious, will stab you if the need arises or pickpocket all your gold if you're mean to her. But she still believes that there's ultimately good in the world. A hope that sometimes makes her take stupid and naive risks. And never has she experienced a love like she has with Astarion - and she's sure she'll never will again. Might be it started as a silly crush because she never experienced someone giving her this kind of attention, but now... She'd kill for him and die for him - although she'd very much prefer the first.

Story: Tav was the daughter to a loveless affair of a very high-up wood elf noble, her father, and her high-elf mother from Baldur's Gate. Immediately abandoned by her mother after birth on the steps of a cloister in the city where she spent the first few years of her life. A life where she was treated harshly from the very first steps on she could take. So still being a child, she fled the abuse and started to live on the streets of Baldur's Gate where she not only had to grow up quickly but learn how to be proficient with sleight of hand, stealth and running away as fast as possible when the former two skills weren't enough. She always did what it takes even though it meant making objectively stupid decisions. She's hardened, cold, with a sharp tongue and violent if need be to those she perceives as a threat because you had to be if you didn't want to be taken advantage off as a woman. But this also means she's made herself unapproachable, so never really has she experienced someone giving her attention for anything but her skillset, complimenting her, wooing her. But to those she perceives as her friends or close ones she's a helpless people-pleaser and pushover rising from a desperate desire to not be left alone again; deeply believing she's only worth as much as she can be of use. She joined a band of thieves for which she and her friends she found there took on highbrow heists - until the day Tav was taken and a parasite in her brain but much more a sassy vampire shook her and her beliefs to the core.

A few more funfacts:

the piercings she has, she's done herself (thank the gods she didn't die of an infection

the tattoos she has she had done very young when she felt rebellious after she first found out about her real father - back then she thought it would make her look fierce; now she knows it was a little stupid but they're a part of her now; Astarion likes to let his thumbs run along them and calls her his "little fiend"

her main role during her thieving times was stakeout and keeping an eye on the others from above with her bow - during long and boring stakeout times she picked up drawing as a hobby: she just drew what she saw, so she could keep an eye on stuff but also busy herself

the scar is from her time when she first fled the cloister and joined a group of street kids (all boys) and she was repeatedly forced to show how brave she was; always having to be at least twice as couragous as the others just to make up for her being a girl

she has a definite problem with authorities

and she could probably drink you under the table

she's not good at taking care of herself, so Astarion calls her his street cat - and has to teach her a thing or two about self-care

#OC #my Tav #Tav #bg3 tav #baldurs gate #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #meet my Tav #fox

[thunder-birb-00]

So about that "multiple Teds" that rots my brain randomly

This technically doubles as a how Tinky is interpreted for the Timelines AU. This ramble, a cute random discord discussion between @shadowess and I, is going nowhere, except out here xD. Pardon the mess on my end.

For this AU, Tinky keeps trying to find a Ted that is ... "smart enough". By means of smart enough, that's tricky, but I would say Tinky eventually wants to see a Ted that is not too stupid to go to 2004. In short, the whole time travelling shenanigans is a terrible "social test" placed by Tinky, which MAY alter certain situations ever so slightly to properly lure Ted into the "test". However, most have been deemed failures, Time Bastards specifically, so he just chucks them into his box to just play with whenever he wants, be it more messed up games or stuff like that.

So Tinky knows which Ted is which, specifically may label them so that he will not take the wrong Ted to play with (Gamma Ted 231118, Phi Ted ??1018, Chi Ted 171004, so on and so forth). But to each individual Ted, he still calls them "Teddy Bear" to not raise suspicions that there are more then one Ted.

But over time, as each Ted learns about the other, they figure some way to ID themselves. There are certainly infected Teds in there, which can be identified with maybe some leftover blue in the eyes. The rest of the Teds are mostly brown-eyed, but for those who got the Time Bastard treatment, they may have yellow eyes when in Tinky's presence. They also slowly observe that there are Teds who are here as young adults (if say, Ted chloroforming his young self had gone horribly wrong), some who died at the 30-somethings like Workin' Boys Ted and TGWDLM Ted for example, they would be put through the Time Bastard challenge posthumously to do this same check, and those at 50 years of age (these are the Homeless Teds). Some of the Teds are female (for mine's, I'd name female Teds Thea). Nonetheless, the female Teds could be Time Bastardised all the same, or Infected.

What's important is that they soon realise that they all came from different timelines, and that they are practically labelled according to the timeline they were derived from. They only notice since they now have someone else looking at them, and maybe a few of the Teds who are actually more sane, doing the observing.

So, to end off the lore ramble, for the little talkshow they've got, you could stand to see the following who get identified as such: Crime Lord Ted, Cowboy Ted, Host Ted, Theatre Ted, Normal Flavoured Ted, Nerd Ted, so on and so forth.

And there will be Teds that do not show up as much, as they are one of few Teds who are... walking free from the Bastard's Box in two ways (as being a Time Bastard means you are an eldritch being who can possibly find a means to get stronger).

1. They are not dead

2. They have escaped and have their own backdoor

Right i stop here, thanks for coming to my Ted talk, have a good night/ day for whoever stumbles on this XD - Thunder

#thetedstalkshow #starkid #hatchetverse #hatchetfield #ted spankoffski #ehe rambles #thunder rumblings #lords in black #the lords in black #tinky #tnoy karaxis #t'noy karaxis #npmd #tinky npmd #nightmare time #hatchetfield au #hatchetfield theory

[anika-ann]

(Love)Sick - S.R.

Type: one-shot, early relationship, canon-ish (see A/N)

Pairining: Steve Rogers x reader (GG x Sparkles)     Word count: 3700

Summary: The stress of the past few days caught up with you, leaving you refuse Steve’s – your boyfriend’s – offer of a morning run. That’s fine. It wouldn’t be the first time Steve turned his morning run into a coffee-run. 

What he didn’t expect was to only meet closed doors. He’d investigate. Aka you get sick and Steve switches into a nurse mode. 

Warnings: FLUFF, mentions of flu and its symptoms, stubborn Steve, mention of Steve’s deceased mum,...language?

A/N: Standalone or a one-shot following the epilogue of Love on the Brain series. Written around Christmas when I have been so damn sick - and apparently infected my mutuals... long live self-indulgence.   divider by firefly-graphics 😍

Steve Rogers was a creature of habit.

Wake up at 5:30. Dress up. Knock on your door to try to take you for a run. Either failing, stopping in the café to bring you your fix, revelling in how adorably hopeless you were when trying to be cranky with him with your coffee in his hand. Or succeeding, having the most pleasant company, even if one running slower than him. He liked that you pushed your limits with him, working to be better, faster.

He liked your drive. He liked you. He liked you ogling him these days unabashedly, because exactly six days ago, he had carried you over the threshold of his apartment, not his bride but his girl and after two years of fruitless longing, that was more enough for him.

Unlike you, he never minded mornings, especially knowing what awaited him – but knocking at your door today, trying for a second run with you as his girlfriend, he actually found himself grinning wide, giddiness lighting up his chest. He liked the routine morning runs with you. He loved adding kissing you good morning to that routine.

It appeared however, that today was one of those days this kiss would have to wait – not a running day. A coffee run day. He could work with that. Opting for a shorter route, he shot you a text when he was standing in a line at the shop, asking what kind of a sugary treat you’d like with your coffee.

When he got no answer, he chuckled to himself; the image of you grumpily scowling at your phone as you silently pleaded heavens to let you stay in bed for a few more minutes had him shake his head. Jam-filled croissant and blueberry muffin it was, then. You’d share. Once he’d kiss that grumpy look from your face, barely holding back laugh – as much as he’d feel sorry for your very true pain. The premise was most lovely and Steve found himself excited even.

What a naïve fool he was. And they had thought the serum strengthened his brain as well. Not.

It was only when he knocked on your door and you didn’t open the door – as normally did, when having followed the smell of coffee like a bloodhound – when he realized something might be wrong.

He tried knocking again, uneasiness filling his veins when no repose came. He leaned his head to the door, attempting to listen in – for the sound of a shower, for your footsteps. Nothing.

He nearly jumped and spilled the cup of coffee when his phone chimed with an incoming text. With a frown, he balanced the paper bag and coffee hazardously to look at the device, hoping, praying it was you.

The relief filing his chest upon seeing your nickname on the screen was sweeter than the pasty he bought for you.

(7:01) Sparkles✨: Just lemme die in piece

Steve’s eyebrows shot up as he glanced at your door, the corners of his lips twitching up. This was a very bad morning if you started out so darkly and with typos. He hoped he could turn that frown upside down.

(7:01) Me: Would never let that happen, Sparkles. Good morning 😘

The reply came instantly, considerably less warm and way blunter than expected, making his face darken.

(7:02) Sparkles✨: Is not

(7:02) Sparkles✨: Sotry GG

(7:02) Sparkles✨: Not work, no run

(7:03) Sparkles✨: Go

Go.

Yeah, right.

Except there was no chance that was happening after you just blew him off. You could be a firecracker – there was a reason his fellow Avengers didn’t blink twice at Steve calling you Sparkles, thinking it was about your nature – but cynicism was usually a sign of you feeling either ill or sad and Steve refused to leave either of these conditions untreated.

As a Captain with one level higher clearance than yours, he had the authorization to open your apartment door. It wasn’t exactly an option he was comfortable with; though he understood why this protocol was in place at an AI building and even on a good day, he could think of at least ten fearsome scenarios (or about a hundred on a bad day) where he’d be extremely thankful for it, but using his rank now felt like an abuse of power, like an invasion of privacy.

But the need to tend to you was stronger.

He’d try texting once more, to cheer you up, to show he was there for you, even if you weren’t at your best, he reasoned. If that failed, then he’d act.

(7:03) Me: Brought you coffee. And pastry.

(7:04) Me: And me.

He imagined the last note brought a smile to your face, hopefully. And perhaps it did – but no response came this time. No shuffling in the apartment.

Heart seized by worry, guilt seated in his stomach, he waited another full minute, giving you the last chance to stop him. No such luck.

Steve sighed, pulling out his key card, the safety mechanism giving in with a click when he entered his over-ride code.

Leaving the cup and the paper bag by the door, he discarded his shoes, lowly calling out your name. His heart leapt to his throat when no reply came, his body switching to a battle mode.

Something was wrong. Very very wrong. The image of you being held at a gunpoint, barely a week ago flickered through his mind and he regretted not having taken the shield with him – and cursed himself for waiting so long before entering.

Cautiously, he rounded the corner. Kitchen empty. Bathroom door open, no light on. Bedroom it was. His feet were quiet against the floor as he sneaked in; he heard the shuffle of sheets the same moment he saw the shaking pile of covers on the bed.

You were alone.

Quickly scanning the room to make sure his assumption was correct, he let his shoulders sag with relief, fear replaced by mere worry.

The shaking, the harsh breaths. A sniffle. Were you… crying? He couldn’t see you with your back to him, completely obscured by the blankets.

“Sparkles?”

You sucked in air so harshly it made you cough briefly, the bundled pile of sheets trembling harder.

“Sparkles? Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” he asked, lump in his throat.

You groaned, shuffling in your curled-up position, not turning to look at him.

“Go aw—way.”

“Yeah, no chance,” he muttered as he rounded the bed in four long strides, crouching by your nightstand.

His view didn’t get much better; with at least three blankets on top of you, all he could see through the slit you made - probably made so you could breathe – were your puffy tired eyes, a peek of your flushed cheeks and nose.

A small piece of his heart broke away at the picture of misery. You shot him a half-hearted angry look for he hadn’t listened to you – as if he ever had when it came to your well-being – before closing your eyes and slowly exhaling.

Steve suddenly understood what modern people meant when they talked about a burrito of sadness. Except you were shaking like a leaf – and Steve was staring to connect the dots, a compassionate tiny smile settling on his face as he placed his hand on what he assumed was your shoulder and rubbed.

“Oh sweetheart… what happened?”

You blinked your eyes opened again, squinting as you observed him from the safety of your unconquerable fortress.

“Tis cold. Wear a hoodie, GG, god’s sake,” you muttered, voice somewhat choked as your teeth clattered.

Steve grimaced. He rarely even got cold ever since having been injected with the serum, his body naturally running hot and sometimes skewing his perception of temperature, but there was no doubt you looked like you felt it was freezing in the perfectly warm apartment – and under three, no four blankets.

It didn’t exactly take a genius or a doctor – or both of those in one person, as Steve’s brain helpfully supplied – to figure out what was happening. Still, Steve carefully reached out, only for you to cocoon yourself tighter, looking as if you wished for the blankets to swallow you.

“I promise my hand is warm,” Steve declared softly, having you scrunch your nose.

“No touch. I feel gross.”

Steve sighed, rubbing your shoulder over the covers. He needed no other confirmation. You were down with a flu – that was why you had cut your evening short yesterday, claiming you had a headache he had tried to sooth with the softest kiss on your forehead, rewarded by one to his lips, accompanied with a tired but sweet smile.

“And everything hurts?” he queried, only to have you nod shakily.

“Yes,” you sniffled, avoiding his attentive gaze. “Back. Knees. Hips… Brain. Jaw. Tis too bright.”

And didn’t that sound familiar. It sounded like half of his pre-serum life and that might have been seventy years ago, but Steve remembered those years very vividly – and despite that, he found himself wishing he could take the sickness on himself to relieve you. But that was not how things worked, not even in the modern day.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. Did you take any meds?”

Even from the very limited view on your face, Steve could tell it was painted with guilt. Guilt that you failed to do something you knew you should have.

Just like Steve had refused to stay in bed when he was supposed to, because he was no weakling. Screw the flu. His mother worked double shifts in the hospital to make ends meet, he wouldn’t let sniffles take him down nor make the poor saint of a woman his mother was to work harder to buy medicine for him.

Your momentary attitude was starkly different – and it was endearing to see, to be honest – but the outcome was the same. No help to the healing process.

“Too far. Too cold to leave… I know,” you whined, embarrassment flushing your face and Steve felt his heart melt.

“It’s okay, you can stay where you are. I’ll bring you some and make some tea, yeah?”

“Don’t go.”

“Sparkles…” he chuckled as your hand found its way out of the fortress, grabbing after him, hissing as cold air crept under your defences. Biting into his smile – despite truly, truly feeling your pain – he enclosed your warm shaky hand with both of his.

“I don’t wanna die alone.”

Steve resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

He wanted to be exasperated at the drama, at the joke – but if anything, his chest ached a little, because he remembered the pain and the most violent chills and everything feeling like he just might die. Very few people died of flu these days, he had checked, and you were a strong young woman both of which you were no doubt aware of as much as he was, but that knowledge did little to make the shivers stop.

If you were exaggerating on purpose on, Steve was fine with it too. He brought your hand to his lips, dropping a brief kiss to the back of it. Your covers slipped a little, revealing your pouty lips. He smiled and tucked your hand back in, squeezing over the blankets.

“Hey. I told you I wouldn’t let that happen,” he reminded you, waiting for you to grimace. “I’ll be right back. I promise.”

“You don’t have to tho,” you sighed, eyes large and vulnerable as you gazed up at him when he rose to his full height. “I can do that, eventually, I can take care of myself--- Christ, why can’t I stop shaking. I hate this.”

Oh yes, that was familiar as well. He knew exactly how much strength you had to gather to have energy to hate something. There was his fighter of a girl.

“I know. I want to,” he assured you, causing you to blink, a tear slipping down your cheek. His stomach clenched in sympathy. “Will you let me take care of you?”

“Yes.”

Steve bet his mother had wished he would have been such a dutiful patient. Wished he let others help; you resembled her in this regard, scolding him for being reckless and taking onto too much. Truth was, as much as he hated seeing you hurting and vulnerable, he was grateful that you let him hwlp and that you weren’t dead set on making things difficult.

For once.  

“Okay, I’ll be right back.”

He came back to your bedside in only a couple of minutes, your eyes having slipped shut. As gently as he could, he had you sit up and take your meds and several sips of tea with lemon and honey. Your covers shifted as you moved, naturally, the cold seeping in and causing you to shake so hard that for a minute, Steve truly worried there just might be more to it than a common flu. A few tears escaped you, tying Steve’s insides in knots. Without a second thought, he took the mug from your hands and climbed to the bed with you, momentarily distracting you from your suffering.

“W-what are y-y-you-“ you tried to ask trough your clattering teeth, pulling your covers tighter to your body.

“I’ll help warm you up. Come on, lie down, Sparkles.”

“I’m gross,” you protested weakly, earning Steve’s unimpressed glare as he opened his arms for you.

“Heard that lie before. Come here”

“You’ll get sick.”

Steve sighed, biting back a grin when despite your words, you shuffled down and closer to him, even if without opening your cocoon just yet.

“I can’t, remember? Come here, I don’t bite unless asked nicely.”

“Har, har, wonder where you heard that one,” you commented dryly, your cough preventing you from reminding him it was, in fact, you who had told him first.

At least the cough wasn’t coming out from depth of your ribcage, Steve observed. That was a good sign; he remembered coughing fits that felt like his lungs have left his body.

Yet, you clearly didn’t have the energy to verbally spar with him anymore. At a painful snail pace, you lifted one side of the quartet-blanket. Content, Steve slipped in, sliding his arm under your side to pull your body flush to his, using his free extremities for tucking the pair of you in the covers neatly so no draught could bother you.

Steve was only a man – a burning soft body stretched all along his, legs tangled intimately, he was absurdly aware of every inch of you touching him; but his hindbrain was asleep. There was absolutely nothing sexual about the whimper that escaped your lips when you tried to tuck yourself into him as you would have into the covers, nothing seductive about your hands sneaking under his shirt, about the silent oh god when your palms laid sprawled over his hot skin – but damn, the line was thin.

You must have realized it too, because all of sudden, your lax body tensed, your hands jerking back, only to get tangled in the fabric.

“Sorry-“ you rasped.

The corners of Steve’s lips twitched, his hand easily covering both of yours and holding them in place over the thin material of his t-shirt. You didn’t fight him, but the fact you felt as if have erred was evident of your face.

“It’s fine, Sparkles.” More than fine. “Does that feel better?”

You just nodded, peeking at him shyly and his heart soared at the vulnerable look in your tired eyes.

“Good. Then I’m doing my job.”

As he felt you relax against him once more, cheek laying on his bare bicep, he dropped a kiss to your forehead – definitely too hot to touch. It elicited a tiny purr-like sound from your chest, making Steve smile against your burning skin.

One arm wrapped around you and holding you close, he ran his other hand down your back, this time earning a whimper when he reached your lower back.

“That where you need me the most?” he whispered, only realizing the double entendre once it left his lips; luckily for him, you didn’t catch it through the flu-induced brain fog, only nodding and snuggling to his side. “Okay, sweetheart, good. I gotch’u.”

“Thank you,” you murmured as your shivers slowly subdued, courtesy of the meds kicking in slowly – and hopefully, Steve’s happily shared body warmth too.

In a matter of minutes, the chills were gone – or at least the exhausting tremble of your body was. A tear seeped into Steve’s shirt, followed by a sniffle and a swift apology.

Shaking his head with a sigh and smile to his lips, he nuzzled your hair, slightly damp with sweat. Gross, you had said. Steve could roll his eyes.

“Didn’t exactly choose to be sick on top of everything, did you?” he mused, unable to stop the teasing tone into his words.

“No, but I’m being a whiny baby.”

He chuckled. Maybe you were, a little bit. It was cute. From what he remembered about himself being sick, he used to be mostly a cranky and stubborn pain in the ass. Emphasis on stubborn whenever he got hurt in the new century.

“You’re not,” he opposed kindly.

“Yes I am,” you argued, clearly feeling a little better. “But please don’t dump me anyway.”

Oh look, you even got jokes now. At least Steve hoped that was a joke.

There was the tinniest hint of a smile in the corner of your lips, wistful and tired, but definitely present. Good.

“I could never,” he promised nevertheless, kissing your scalp. “And you’re sick, you’re entitled not to be all sunshine. Don’t forget I used to be sick all the time.”

You shifted in his arms, allowing him to curl one arm around you and warm up your back at once, leaving his other hand free to caress your hair. Your chapped lips pressed a small peck to his throat. Affectionate even if sickness; Steve wasn’t surprised. This hadn’t been the first time he helped you through, though he had never got so close before.

“Right… I doubt Steve Rogers was a cry baby.”

Steve shrugged, a surprisingly fond grin tugging at his lips as your fingers petted the skin under his collarbone. “I had other ways of driving my ma and Buck crazy.”

“…will you tell me?”

That question should make Steve sad, he thought. Talking about his late mother, about his late best friend… but the pang in his chest was nothing but an echo of a heartache. Frankly, to say it took him by surprise would be an understatement; then again, looking back, he realized it was a pattern with you. Something about you worked as a soft painkiller for the wounds of the past. It didn’t erase them, it didn’t stop them from slowly healing, didn’t numb him all over, but it still eased the ache.

“I’m sorry, you don’t have to-”

Steve ran his thumb over the low curve of your spine, silencing you without words.

“It’s okay.... I was the most unsufferable patient ever, I think,” he admitted, chuckling softly.

But you didn’t quite let go of the fact you pried into his past. He adored you for that; yet, he felt his heart more occupied by the fact that your considerate nature was somewhat outshined by the fact that he felt comfortable enough to tell you everything and anything. Especially when you stroked his bare chest like that.

“Share only what you feel comfortable sharing, okay?” you pleaded lowly, straining to kiss the side of his neck briefly before relaxing, head on his shoulder, closing your eyes. “And don’t take it personal if I drift off.”

“Noted.”

“You’re just really warm and I like your voice,” you whispered, almost as if you were half-asleep already.

“Yeah?”

You hummed in agreement, not even opening your eyes. “Feel safe.”

Steve gulped, overwhelmed by the simple statement. In the back of his mind, he knew that – he suspected, he hoped – but hearing you say it, even with your inhibitions lowered by the meds and fever, meant more to him then your body pressed to his. Or perhaps it meant precisely as much; your proximity was the physical equivalent of your expressed trust he treasured. Trust. One of the most essential and often unreachable conditions of love.

Steve loved you. Of course he’d tell you anything you asked for.

“I’m sorry, I’m babbling,” you mumbled, completely ignorant to astonished Steve who was still marvelling at your vulnerability at display, the softest of feelings humming in his chest.

“I won’t hold it against you,” he promised, thumb petting your temple gently. “You are safe with me. Always.”

“I know… How were you insufferable?”

Steve’s lips unwittingly curled up in a smile and he let his memories carry him back; your touch – just as safe, soothing and grounding to him as his seemed to be to you – allowing him to walk the past coloured with only little pain and plenty of nostalgy.

When you eventually dozed off in protective cage of in his arms, skin still burning with fever and slightly slick with sweat, he felt his heart grow three sizes – with love and pride. You felt safe with him. And he’d keep you safe. He’d watch over you and help you beat the flu, so you could cuddle him again without feeling like a cry baby.

And one of those days, he’d hold you close after he’d get you hot and sweating for a different reason. Another day… when you’d show him another kind of trust and he’d trust himself to do the same.

Until then, this was enough. This morning was enough, even if taking a completely different turn than expected. Did he mind? Not really.

Yes, Steve Rogers was a creature of habit.

He cherished his routine. But he cherished making you part of his routine more. He’d dismantle his routine happily for even a moment with you, even if it would mean serving as a pillow and a space heater. He’d break his routine for this with the pride of a man recently promoted to a boyfriend.

Because that was you, that was his girl in his arms. That was the most precious thing the universe had ever sent his way for safe-keeping.

And he would. By god, he would.

Steve Rogers masterlist // Love on The Brain masterlist 

Thank you for reading! I hope your year has been okay so far 🥰

Stay safe and healthy 💕 (and spare a moment with feedback if you will)

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers imagine #captain america x you #captain america imagine #captain america x reader #captain america #steve rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #agent reader #love on the brain #lovesick #anika ann

[thisisarcanereverie]

When the World Went to Shit (Chapter 1)

Joel Miller x FEM! Reader

A/N: this is a SPOILER WARNING, this contains spoliers from the first episode (and more to come). Also I did NOT bother editing, so if there are a few mistakes my bad.

WARNINGS: Canon level of violence, swears, reader is ready to fight a goddamn child, Joel is sad, talks of grief, PTSD, brief mentions of gore, Eventual Smut, pining (on both ends), grumpy idiots in love, reader is in her late 30's to early to mid 40's.

Summary: 20 years later after the world went to shit you, Joel, and Tess have to take 14 year old Ellie to the Firefly base outside of Boston QZ. What was supposed to be a simple plan turned into something much more complicated.

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You were visiting your family and friends in Texas when everything went to shit. One minute you were on your way to a movie with your mom and the next you were driving frantically to Travis County with your mom, and your old friend Tommy (who you hadn’t seen in years) and his brother Joel and Joel’s daughter Sarah. Your car had overturned at some point, your mother and Tommy on one side and you, Joel, and Sarah on the other. You had agreed to meet at the lake, you tried to ignore the fires and screams of people around you and focused on surviving. But the pleas of help and the inhuman clicking etched itself into your brain, you could transport yourself there if you closed your eyes long enough. You could feel the heat from the various fires as you passed them, the metallic stench of blood permeating the air and turning your stomach sour, you could feel the burning in your lungs as you ran from the infected person as it chased you animalistically. You could still feel the hope you had as you looked at the soldier crumble as he fired at you and the sharp stab of grief that almost consumed you as you watched Joel mourn Sarah and as Tommy told you that your mother didn’t make it. 

You took in a sharp breath when you woke up, the morning light burnt your eyes until you closed them again. Your back ached from the outdated springs on the old bed. You felt like you had been run over by a bus quite honestly, and despite what you had assumed to be a decent amount of rest, there was a tiredness deep in your bones that had settled there for the past 20 years. Begrudgingly you sat up, a low groan escaping you as you stretched, your bones popping and cracking throughout your body like some sick symphony. 

You slowly open your eyes as they adjust to the dull brightness that day provided and look around the unit that the Boston QZ provided you and your roommate Tess, though you guess she’s more like a ghost nowadays since she spent most nights with Joel. 

Joel. 

You, Joel, and Tommy arrived at the Boston QZ together, during what you would easily call the worst few years of your life. During which time both you and Joel bonded over your loss. With every year you got better at handling your loss, and started to move on. You were a nurse before everything had ended, so you helped out where you could medically and on the side you accepted some other jobs. You helped smuggle a few things here and there, even sent some reliable customers Joel and Tess’s way. You used to just shoot the shit with Tommy, talking about what the world was like before it ended. But that was before he went ahead and joined those goddamn Firefly’s. When you found out you were so mad you could’ve screamed and hit him, but you left that to Joel instead. You admired the way Tommy still held onto hope, despite all that he’s seen and went through, but joining the Firefly’s was going against FEDRA, and going against FEDRA never went well. 

You were so lost in thought that it wasn’t until you heard a silent ‘shit’ coming from the kitchen and the sound of glass shattering across the floor that you realized you weren’t alone. Instinctively you reached for your gun, You were often alone in the unit and just because the world went to shit didn’t mean things didn’t happen. It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve had to defend yourself in your unit. You walked silently as you walked toward the kitchenette, gun raised and your thumb hovering over the safety. It wasn’t until you saw the familiar long light brown hair that you lowered your gun. 

“Fuck Tess,” You cussed as you took a deep breathe attempting to calm the nerves you had gotten, “I thought you were-what the fuck happened to you?” You asked as she turned around, one half of her face was swollen and littered with scars, her clothes had droplets of dried blood dotted across. Not enough to notice from afar, but up close you could spot a large droplet or two. You rushed over to her where you motioned her to sit on the rickety chair next to the table. The floorboards creaked as you walked over to the floorboards in front of your radio. Uncovering it to reveal one dusty bottle of rum and a first aid kit filled with things you had snuck out of the clinic over the years. Tess was silent as you set the first aid kit and the rum on the table before grabbing two mismatching glasses filling up both, before passing one to her. She downed hers as you poured yourself one and dabbed a bit on a piece of clean cloth. 

You dabbed the cloth onto her cuts and bruises before applying just the smallest amount of antibacterial onto your fingers and just dabbing it on the deeper cuts. Once you had put the antibacterial back in the first aid and the cloth was set aside, you downed the rest of whatever you had poured on your glass. 

“So,” you broke the silence, “gonna tell me what happened or am I going to have to ask Joel?” You see Tess take a deep breath before sighing, pouring herself another glass and taking a swig of it before responding. 

“It was Robert,” She revealed, “I found out he was going to fuck us over with the car battery,” your nails dug into the palms of your hands. You never did like Robert, based on his personality you assumed no one else did either, “So I got jumped by a few of the teenagers in his rank and next thing you know I’m tied to a goddamn chair and he’s pacing around paranoid about Joel.” 

“I would too,” you interjected, Joel had become increasingly violent over the years, earning himself a fearsome reputation. And while you would never admit it, you were both scared and intrigued about what his rage could do. What he was willing to do while in that state. You took another sip of the rum, hoping the liquor would hide that particular thought away. Forcing it down with the rest of your more complex emotions. 

“Yeah, well if it weren’t for the Firefly’s I would probably either still be in that chair or dead by now. They blasted through the damned wall and a full blown shootout ensued. I tried to leave but FEDRA caught me, thinking I was Firefly. When they let me go after some intense interrogation I came here and you wanna know what really just fucks me off,” You nodded, “Robert fucking weasled his way out, fucking scot free.” 

“FEDRA didn’t catch Robert, but they caught you?” You asked, when she nodded you rolled your eyes in annoyance. Of course FEDRA would focus more on capturing a (at the time) defenseless woman and feeding their ego by reinforcing their superiority before actually capturing someone guilty of something. You finish off your glass before setting it back down on the table. 

“Well,” you started, “did they hurt you anywhere else? Any cuts or bruises that need tending to before I put this shit away?” 

“Are you asking for a strip tease Doc?” Tess teased as she sent you a wink, you rolled your eyes before closing your kit and the bottle to the rum before grabbing it. 

“You wish, Detroit.” You winked back as you placed the kit and bottle back to its place beneath the floorboard next to the radio. You looked at it for a second, thinking briefly that you hadn’t heard from Bill and Frank a while and hoped that they were doing fine. Maybe you would stay longer than you did last time, Bill was getting older and Frank’s condition was worsening. They could use the extra help, but you were sure Bill would refuse, just like last time. 

You turned back to Tess who was still sitting at the kitchen table. 

“Tess,” You put one hand on your hip as you leaned against the wall, “we’ve got to tell Joel.” 

“I know,” She sighed, “he’s not going to like it.” 

“He’s most likely going to fly off the handle, yes.” you agree, “but still, Robert’s not going to get away with holding you captive and fucking you two over.” You grab your shoes, pull them on and lacing them before making your way to the front door. You opened the door for Tess and locked the door behind you. 

///////////

“Joel.” 

“Yeah.”

“Who the fuck is this?” you ask, motioning towards the petite 14 year old brunette staring out the

window. After informing Joel on what happened you left for your shift in the clinic, after the shift ended and you saw the sun was about to set, you rushed home to grab your first aid kit and stuffed it discreetly in your bag and made your way back to Joel’s where you were sure him and Tess would be there ready to be patched up. Instead what you found was Joel lying on the couch and an unfamiliar girl staring out the window with a far off look in her dark eyes. 

“The Queen of England,” The girl sarcastically replied, “and who are you, off brand GI Jane?” 

“Can you even point to England on a map, aren't you like five?”

“I’m 14” 

“Tell that to your height.” 

“Alright,” Joel groaned, getting up from the coach rubbing his eyes slightly before getting up fully, “enough.” you kept eye contact with the girl as Joel makes his way to you, a calloused hand on your shoulder. “At ease Doc, this is Ellie, we’re taking her to the Firefly base outside of the QZ.” You missed the warmth of his hand as soon as it was removed. 

“By us do you mean-” 

“We’re going to need you Doc,” Joel said gruffly, almost like he didn’t want to say it, “if we give Ellie to them with so much as a scratch on her the deal's off.” You walked over to where he was by the sink, leaning close to talk quietly. 

“What deal?” You asked, eyes searching his dark ones, they shone with a tiredness you’re sure yours portrayed as well. 

“We take her there, and they give us what we need.”

“A car battery.” 

“And weapons,” Joel added, you had to admit weapons and a car battery that worked sounded nice. But

you looked over to where Ellie sat, fiddling with the book in her lap. 

“Why?” you asked, eyes still trained on her, not seeing how his eyes lingered on you for longer than they should, “Why go through all this trouble? Who is she?” 

“I’m thinking she’s some higher ups daughter,” he explained, “they didn’t give us a clear answer on that.” Despite your suspicions you decided to leave it for now. You continued to watch her for a second. It was strange to think that Ellie and kids her age would never know what the world was. Sometimes you liked to wonder what kids her age would’ve been like had this life not been forced upon them. But you would shake those thoughts away, it was useless wondering what could’ve been when you needed to survive. 

You walked over to her, sitting cautiously beside her. 

“So,” you started, “You’re Ellie.” 

“Yeah,” she responded, looking at you cautiously. You couldn’t blame her, so young and affiliated with the Firefly’s already, You don’t know what kind of people she’s been exposed to.

“It’s a cool name,” you said, extending a hand, “people call me Doc.” Warily she accepts it. 

“Like Doctor?” Ellie asks. 

“Yeah.” 

“Are you a doctor?” 

“Closest thing to one at the moment,” you said removing her hand from your own, you see her tugging at her sleeve but pay it no mind. 

Tess entered not long after, it was time. And so far everything had gone smoothly, well, as smoothly as it possibly could be with Ellie being distracted over the outside world a few times, almost getting caught in the process. Until you eventually got caught. Even through the blur of the flashlight you could feel Joel tense, you wanted to reach out to him and calm him down. For a minute though before the soldier had you on your knees with your hands behind your head, you were sure he was going to let you go. He was testing you all, ‘doing this by the book’, he said. The uncomfortable tingling of the handheld device was over nearly as it began, you were clean. 

Then came Ellie. 

As soon as he touched her neck she stabbed him with a knife you didn’t notice she had before. That’s when all hell broke loose, you don’t know what did it for Joel, if it was the flashlight or the fact that this officer was going to shoot a little girl, but you saw Joel break. Without caring about getting shot he disarmed the soldier, but he didn’t stop there. You’ve seen him get violent a few occasions before, but this, this was something he was holding back. He kept pounding on him, blood decorating the stones, he would’ve kept going had you not pulled him off of him. You held onto Joel, riding out this PTSD driven rage, coaching his breathing. Until finally he ceased, you let go and distanced yourself from him before seeing Tess. The handheld device in her hand as her eyes widened. 

“GUYS!” She shouts, showing the screen on the device, a bright shining red.

Fuck

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x reader smut #the last of us #the last of us hbo #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal is daddy #joel miller smut #the last of us spoilers #tlou smut #tlou season 1 #tlou show #bill and frank #x reader #x reader smut #x reader angst #x reader fluff #tlou x reader

[aita-blorbos]

AITA for joking about a traumatic experience I went through?

Hi. Recently I (17M) got into a bit of a spat with a guy who I thought was my best friend, and so I’m looking for opinions.

For some context, a while back I took some freaky drugs. Some can’t-even-look-it-up-on-the-internet, top-secret type of shit. Something-something quantuam nanotechnology CPU.

Listen, I don’t really get it, but all you need to know is that they put a computer inside my brain. And the computer told me what to do. It helped me to be cool. It helped me rule.

That’s how I befriended stupid J (My “friend,” 17 M) in the first place. Before I took those drugs, I had NO-ONE. I was a LOSER. A dork who didn’t have a clue! But my computer brain made me POPULAR. Suddenly, I had all sorts of buds, and he was my favorite of them.

Real cool, badass sort of guy. A little bit dumb sometimes, but nice, too. I appreciated his friendship.

…However, eventually, things went tits up with my computer. Stupid thing started harassing me and I realized I wanted it GONE. It was going to, like… drive me insane or something if I left it be. I came to this realization in the midst of a party J was hosting, and desperately tried to get rid of the computer. But the only way to shut it off was with some long-discontinued nerd soda, and I didn’t have any of that! No-one did! So I did the next best thing.

I set a fire and I burned down J’s house.

Listen: I know how nuts that sounds… but you’ve gotta understand how desperate I was! I HAD to get that thing out of my head. Right then and there. And if the only way to do that was, like, ending my life or whatever in some terrifying inferno, then so be it.

And I DID almost die— passed out from smoke inhalation and everything. But stupid J had to intervene. Initially, he evacuated at first signs of the fire like everyone else, but then he realized I was still inside and decided to play hero. He ran in to rescue me, desperate to save my life.

He did manage to drag me away from the center of the fire, but just as he was nearing the exit, the house collapsed on him. Both of us survived, but we were pretty badly burned, and J broke both his legs.

Obviously, I felt pretty shitty about that. But it’s not like I could apologize right away. I was in the HOSPITAL.

And while I was in the hospital, some nightmare shit went down at school.

J and some other kids were putting on the school play (apparently, he felt well enough to be discharged early, albeit in a wheelchair), and unbeknownst to him, some jackass spiked the punch bowl they were using as a prop. Because of this, all of the actors in the school play, J included, were infected with the stupid computer pill brain drug, and they went on a rampage.

Eventually, another kid (I’ll call him LamerJ) managed to stop the madness. He found that long-discontinued nerd soda and shut off all of the evil computers, including the one inside my head (We all, like, had a psychic link via our computers. Long story).

Before he did this, though, like a complete dumbass, J stood up. Instructed by his computer to try and stop LamerJ, he GOT OUT OF HIS WHEELCHAIR AND STARTED MOVING AROUND.

The good news is this didn’t hurt him because the computer shut off his nerves or whatever. The bad news is walking around while you have already fractured legs is going to do irreparable damage to your body and he ended up SERIOUSLY messing himself up.

In just a few minutes, J’s prognosis went from “Your legs are going to need some time to heal” to “You will probably never recover fully. You are going to have a semi-permanent condition for life.”

J was… uh, pretty gutted about this. Dude was big into sports, and so that kinda damaged his prospects.

I apologized to J, OBVIOUSLY, and he said it was good. That we were all good. He said he wasn’t upset with me and he got I wasn’t in my right mind, and after that things were supposed to go back to normal. He was going to be able to get to know the real me.

But here’s the thing: I was struggling with some shit, too, and you know how I cope with that sort of thing? Through humor. I’d make jokes where I called myself stuff like “flaming hot’ and all the other kids loved it. Helped me feel a lot less shit about my burn scars. But apparently J had an issue with that.

He pulled me aside into the boys’ bathroom one day and, out of the blue, started demanding I needed to stop making jokes about the fire. All of a sudden, it was upsetting to him. I told him that I got why he was so crabby about things, but that the fire traumatized me too, and that I deserved the right to laugh at myself if it helped me cope.

I told him it wasn’t me he should be mad at for his injuries, anyways. He should have been mad at LamerJ or YetAnotherJ, who were responsible for letting the punch bowl get spiked. If it weren’t for that, the damage wouldn’t have been anywhere near as serious. They were to blame. Not me.

But he said that wasn’t true, and that as his friend, he expected more of me. He reminded me it was trying to save me he was even hurt in the first place.

I told him I never ASKED him to rescue me. That was his decision. I said I was sorry I didn’t go and factor his feelings into my GODDAMN SUICIDE ATTEMPT.

He started getting really angry. I got angry too. He said I ruined his life, and I said he must have wanted his life ruined. Something about those computer chips is they can’t make you do anything you don’t truly want. Therefore, at least SOME part of him wanted to stand up and shatter his legs. Maybe to get out of the responsibility of having to decide what he wanted to do with his future or whatever (Since he’d always been SO flaky about that).

He said if that were true, then clearly I wanted to burn down his house and hurt him. I told him the computer didn’t make me make that decision and he said that was even worse. He said I NEVER thought about how my actions affected the people around me, and then stormed off, saying he never wanted to see me again.

…AITA? I wasn’t trying to…— shit! I was just trying to cope with everything that happened. I didn’t realize he’d be such a stick in the mud about it. But maybe I am still a dipshit? For, like, being so stubborn or bringing him into all of this or whatever? I dunno. I feel really stressed.

This all sucks, man. Wish he’d just left me in that fire. Bet he’s wishing that, too.

#aita #am i the asshole #unreality #HOUSEFIRE #SUICIDE #nonconsensual drugging

[corey-wh0re]

You've got a sad look in your eyes | Corey Cunningham x Male Reader

A/N – I wanted to meet my own Halloween deadline, but this is my first fic ever, so everybody bear with me. I’ve had such debilitating brain rot for this man ever since I saw the movie that I knew I had to make the leap & try my hand for my fellow mlms out there who feel the same way about Corey. This is for y’all!

Summary – Returning to your hometown for the first time since you went off to college, you pay a visit to your former best friend, who you haven’t seen or spoken to since you left, and try to reconnect with him one chilly October night.

Warnings – 18+, angst, fluff, smut, Dom!Bottom!Reader, Sub!Top!Corey, oral, anal, praise kink? (I just picture Corey as being so emotionally starved, especially after ~the incident~ that he gets turned on by most displays of affection)

Words – 3.1k

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The rumbling of the engine filled the silence as your car sliced down empty Haddonfield streets, past abandoned houses and foreclosed businesses–a constant reminder of that night, the night HE came back. You weren’t there to witness the destruction firsthand. Lucky, everyone said. A gift to be untouched by tragedy. But you still felt it–the loss. It festered like an infected wound, branching out and rotting everything around it.

You didn’t like to think about it too much. Your thoughts were already clouded with the same face haunting you for years. Nearing your destination, your breath caught in your throat even daring to think of him. The unwieldy chestnut curls. The kind caramel eyes. The toothy grin. The psych–you snapped yourself out of it with the shake of your head. You knew you’d lose your nerve and drive past the gate up ahead if you indulged in those thoughts.

Lifting your foot off the gas just so, you let your car cross the well-worn threshold into the Prevo Auto grounds. You weren’t surprised by the easy access. You already knew who preferred to work under the cover of darkness…

–––––––––––––––––––– Exiting your car with cautious movements, you already spotted him at the edge of the garage. He was bent over, tinkering under the hood of a car. Even without seeing his face, you could already tell it was Corey from the set of his shoulders. His fixation on the task was so complete that he hadn’t even noticed your intrusion into his world of metal–just like when you were close. Body thrumming with anticipation the more you closed the distance, you couldn’t hold back any longer.

“Corey?”

Corey jolted up and around in your direction, narrowly avoiding clipping his head on the hood propped up above him. The surprise only lingered on his features long enough for realization to settle in, tightening his muscles like a vice and dimming the light in his eyes. You saw it immediately–this was no longer the same Corey you used to know.

He looked like he’d been rode hard and left out wet in his filthy denim coveralls and clunky work boots that left him shifting uncomfortably in. Even his ruffled mop of hair and stubbled face indicated somebody who’d given up on their appearance sometime ago.

“What do you want?” Corey asked, looking past you into the carpark beyond as his dirty hands fidgeted at his sides.

You took a step forward; he took a step back. You nodded your head in his direction instead, “I heard you were working here now.”

He nodded back, curtly. “I am.”

Sighing, your breath billowed out in the cold of the night. You pressed on, “Well, I just got home a few days ago and thought I’d stop by–“

“At midnight?” he cut you off, briefly meeting your eyes before making a show of adjusting his glasses.

“I also heard this was the best time to catch you,” you explained, shoving your hands into your pockets. Chancing another step further, you continued, “That you were more comfortable in the dark…alone.”

“It’s easier for work…” he trailed off, pivoting back to the car.

“Easier for you…or for everybody else?”

He stopped midturn, his back tensing at the question. Time ticked sedately along while the silence stretched on between you agonizingly.

You moved within reaching distance so he wouldn’t be able to look away from you again. “Corey, come on. Won’t you just talk to me?”

Corey slammed the hood down on the car and spun on his heels just as you got close enough to see the hurt in his eyes. “Why should I? Where’ve you been?”

Before you could interject, he hurtled over the rest of his words as if they had been lying in wait to explode from his mouth with as much venom as he could muster. ”I haven’t seen or heard from you in years and all of a sudden you just show up wanting everything to be like it used to be, right? Or are you just here to watch the freakshow? Show up and see if what everybody has been saying is true? How am I supposed to just talk to you when you weren’t even here? You’ve been gone all this time. You didn’t even call when I kill–“

With a flurry of blinks, Corey caught himself just short of finishing his sentence. The anger dissipated almost instantaneously from his face.

You stood your ground, stunned, but resolute. You had never seen Corey snap on anybody like that–even during heated arguments in your youth. Deep down, you knew if anybody deserved his fury, it was you.

Corey turned his head away, shrinking from your gaze as if you’d scolded him. Barely discernible over a sharp swell of wind, he muttered, “Just, please…leave.”

For the first time since returning to Haddonfield, you saw Corey–not the old Corey, not the Corey you had fallen in love with, not even the Corey you had heard ugly rumors about around town. You saw the Corey who was flayed alive by unspeakable devastation and didn’t have a hand to help sew him back together. You saw it in his baggy clothes; in the way his lip twitched in despair; the way his shoulders sagged with fatigue. In the still of the October night, he looked like a wounded animal…and it only drew you closer to him.

Extending a hand out to him, you pressed on, “What if I don’t want to leave?”

“Don’t!” Corey jerked away from your touch. He tried pressing himself against the car beside him, but it did little to hide the storm on his face.

You lowered your hands to deescalate his aggravation, sticking as close by his side as he’d allow.

“Don’t what?”

“You know what,” Corey spat, cutting his eyes your way. “I can deal with this shit from everybody else. I’m used to it. But you…”

Corey quickly averted his eyes again, looking anywhere but at your face. At first, you thought he had completely shutdown–then the moonlight reflected the sheen in his eyes.

Your left pinkie crept forward, encircling his right–alongside the silver ring he wore–as a sign of affection. He stiffened at your touch, but didn’t pull away.

“What about me? Tell me what you want to say, Corey.”

He mirrored your question, “What if I don’t want to?”

You offered him a weak smile, still trying your best to comfort him. “Then you’ll never get me to leave.”

His expression shifted, taking on a softer edge without entirely letting his guard down. Nevertheless, he gave you something to ponder, “It’s because you’re you.”

The conversation stilled again, your mind drawing a blank as if those words were meant to explain everything. You squeezed his pinkie for reassurance, “I’m me…I’m still me, and you’re still you, and that hasn’t changed.”

Corey choked back a sob, “But it has.” He paused to steady his voice, and dared to look you directly in the face, “Every night when it got bad…when I thought I couldn’t take it anymore…when I went back to that place…when I went there to…”

He shook his head, letting the implication die on his lips before redirecting, “I thought of you. I always hoped you’d be here, that somehow you’d know, because you were you and we were us. But you never were.”

The tears he’d held at bay fell freely then, unable to be suppressed any longer, “And as much as wanted to…as I’ve tried to hate you, I…can’t–because you’re you. You’re everything to me. You always showed me that I could be something more when nobody else would. So, please–“

You interjected this time, “No.”

“No?” he implored, incredulous.

Fortified by his confession, you let your nerves take over. It was now or never. “No. I know you want me to leave because you think it’d be easier, but it won’t be. You’d feel like shit. I’d feel like shit. We’d both be leaving this place emptier than we came here tonight and I’m not doing that again.”

You closed the remaining gap between you–a hair from your clothes meeting in the middle–till you could smell the oil on his coveralls. “I left you behind and I’ll never not regret it. It was one of the stupidest things I’ve ever done. I thought you’d be fine without me. I thought I’d be fine without you…I was a dumbass. But, I’m not gonna be the dumbass who makes the same mistake twice.”

You stared intently into Corey’s eyes, pleading to be seen the same way you could see him. You needed him to see.

“You can’t fix me,” was all he could respond with, his expression unreadable.

Without breaking eye contact, you edged your face forward. You caught the flicker of want in Corey’s eyes when you whispered to him, “I don’t want to fix you. I want to be here for you.”

While your pinkie was still entangled with his, you reached your free hand up to caress his cheek.

“Let me be here for you, Corey.”

This time, Corey didn’t resist. He closed his eyes with a labored exhalation, relinquishing the tension in his body and melting into your comforting touch without reservation.

In the peace of the moment, you noticed a halo of moonlight cascading down on Corey from above. It caught the coppery flecks in his messy brown curls and glittered off of his tear-stained cheeks like sun through stained glass. It made him look like an angel.

“After everything, you’re still my beautiful boy.”

From your close proximity to Corey, you felt something suddenly pressing into your body. A wrench crossed your mind briefly before you looked down and saw a tent in the midsection of his coveralls, pronounced even through the layers you could tell he had heaped on to quell the October chill.

Curiosity piqued, you couldn’t help but find yourself aroused at the sight. With the raise of your brow, you leaned into him, teasing, “Beautiful and excited.”

Corey’s eyes snapped open, wildly meeting your eyes before following your line of sight down to his own bulge. You felt his body go rigid as crimson crept up his neck, blossoming all the way to his cheeks.

You brought your hand up to run your fingers through his curls. He shuddered on impact, still frozen in place and unable to utter a sound.

You had no such trouble. Tantalizingly close to Corey’s lips, you purred words of encouragement with a devilish smirk, “If I knew calling you beautiful made you react this way, I would’ve whispered all kinds of things to you to see that sweet look on your face.”

“Bu–wha–I–?” Corey sputtered, managing to get control of his limbs again. He tried to wrestle his hands in between the thin space between your bodies to cover himself. You denied him access, pressing yourself firmly into him until you knew he felt your own hardening length by the involuntary moan he let out.

“Do you always make sounds as pretty as that or am I the first to hear them?”

You could feel him twitch in his pants in response. His eyes widened even larger as a series of indecipherable mumbles escaped his lips. The mounting heat between you left his glasses fogged while he searched for anything that would resemble a word to respond.

Your other hand fingered the zipper on his coveralls, the henley underneath peaking through. You took your precious time pulling it down further, “Do you want me to stop?”

Through parted lips, his breath hit your face in steamy waves of desire. Corey could only manage the shake of his head in his current state.

Your smirk stretched wider, savoring every second that prolonged the night’s inevitable events. He already looked ruined before you’d even properly touched him.

“Use your words, Corey. Tell me what you want.”

Eyes flashing impatiently and desperate for friction, Corey tried to rut into you. You pulled yourself away just enough to deny him that pleasure, leaving him to release a pathetic whine that went straight to your dick.

A few inches shy of fully unzipping him, you nudged him along, “Show me how much you want it, Corey. Show me what I do to you.”

Corey didn’t have to be told again. He threw his arms around you, yanking your body into his with an insatiable crash of his lips. You followed his lead eagerly, reciprocating his sloppy kisses and letting him pull you down with him onto the hood of the car.

Straddling him, you felt him moan into your mouth and his clumsy fingers reach under your shirt, exploring you. He gripped onto your skin like a life preserver, touching anything he could find. Your waist. Your back. Your chest. It didn’t matter as long as you were the one he was touching.

You pulled your mouth away, coming up for air. Corey hugged you tighter to himself as if you were going to leave him.

“Don’t,” Corey managed to croak out. “Please don’t stop.”

“I don’t intend to.”

You reached down between your bodies, tugging his zipper the rest of the way. He shivered beneath you as you slipped your hand past the band of his oversized jeans and into the straining fabric of his briefs, taking hold of his thick member. He became pliant in your hand, his arms falling beside him as he gave into your massaging touch.

You climbed down his body back off of the hood. Never halting your movements, you pulled his jeans and underwear down with your free hand, leaving his dick–and your hand–sticking out through the opening in his coveralls.

“Look at you. So fucked out. So pretty for me.”

Corey gasped as his cock hit the night air, twitching in your hand at the praise. It was even larger than it felt, already gorged and leaking with an angry, swollen tip tilting upward and a mass of unkempt fur surrounding his shaft. Bruised lips panting and glasses precariously askew on his nose, he watched you through heavy-lidded eyes as you dipped down.

You inhaled his cock into your mouth, burying your face to the hilt in his bush and letting his natural aroma overtake your senses. Straining in your pants while you hungrily swallowed him, you hurriedly tugged your own jeans and boxers down to free your length from its confines. You fisted your own manhood with fervor, chasing relief as Corey’s moans grew pornographically loud and he covered his hot face with his hands.

With a pop, you pulled off of his member. Corey whimpered in frustration at the loss of your wetness, running shaky hands through his curls and unsuccessfully trying to push them out of his scarlet face.

“Keep making those sounds for me, baby. We’re not done yet.”

Toeing out of your shoes, you shoved your jeans and boxers down to your ankles, leaving them behind on the cement floor. Dumbstruck, Corey could only stare as you remounted him, bottom half bare and dick swinging as you moved. Steadily squatting down, you positioned your hole above his slick cock.

“Do you want me to make you feel good?” You punctuated your question with a stroke, emphasizing your experience to him.

Corey nodded passionately, breathing heavily in preparation. Sinking down, you moaned in tandem with him as his tip slipped beyond your threshold. You felt your walls stretch the deeper you descended, bending your legs at his sides and feeling every inch of him fill you up.

He tried covering his face again, but you took his hands in yours. “Don’t. I wanna see you.” Even with your walls swallowing his dick, you could still feel him twitch in you.

That’s when you started to move, bringing your hips up and down and keeping yourself steady with Corey’s hands. Skin slapping and grunts pouring from your open mouths, you rode him like your life depended on it. You watched each other in your movements, losing each other completely to the feeling and sharing hurried kisses without missing a beat.

Blissed out, “Fuck, Corey,” involuntarily slipped past your lips. As soon as it did, you noticed his eyes darken and knew you’d unlocked that final door in Corey’s repressed subconscious.

Corey sat up suddenly to meet your chest. He held you in place with one arm and lifted your shirt up over your head with the other before thrusting in time with your pumps. The change in pace caught you off guard, leaving you huffing while Corey furiously abused your hole with harsh smacks. He had given himself completely to pleasure and the fire burning between you was going to take you over the edge.

Corey animalistically buried his face into your body, breathing in your scent and peppering your chest with greedy kisses. You could feel his grip tightening on your back as he pressed harder into your body, trapping your cock in a flesh prison you pistoned up with while he pummeled you walls.

Sensing you were both on the precipice, you blurted out as much praise that would come to you in your state, “Come on. That’s right. You’re so good. Such a good boy for me, Corey.”

A flash of the old Corey came over him, nodding obediently with a frenzied moan louder than any sound he had made all night. It sent you tumbling over the edge, your climax bringing stars to your eyes as your cock painted his shirt in white with load after load spurting out. Just then, you felt Corey’s own release shoot deep into you. His pretty mouth hung ajar, tremors racking his body while his thrusts slowed.

You wrapped your arms carefully around him and rested your sweaty forehead against his, slowing your breathing. Corey stayed inside you, but you felt him pulling away, as if he were conflicted on the sex you just had.

You gave him a quick peck to bring him back to you, “Hey don’t retreat in there. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere…literally. You’re still inside me.”

That managed to draw a smile from him. His first smile of the night. You brushed his hair out of his face, reciprocating it.

Bringing himself to not turn away for once, he confessed, “You were my first.”

You brought your lips together, ignoring the mess, the state of undress, and the tumultuous feelings between you. You were here for him and that was never gonna change again.

“I can be your always.”

#corey cunningham #corey cunningham x male reader #corey cunningham x reader #corey cunningham x you #x male reader #angst #fluff #smut #male reader #halloween ends #rohan campbell #rohan campbell x male reader #rohan campbell x reader #in case anyone is curious #yes the gif is mine

[paperback-rascal]

This drawing is more of a concept that was at the back of my brain for a WHILE. Like, all of you create such interesting OCs both Jedi and clone troopers alike... so I though I’ll give it a shot myself and share a little idea of mine. It’s more of an loose concept rather than a full blown project but it sort-of haunts me as I’m a fan of postapocalypse setting...

I kind of have this idea for a... I dunno? company? Battalion? I guess Regiment will be the most fitting size. It’s not big when it comes to man power but it has more clone medics than regular clone troopers. Even though they do at times engage in small-scale battles (mostly as an additional man-power or a “last stand” type of Force) they mostly deal with “medical” side of the war, like: organize trainings (overall safety, sex-ed, OSHA, etc.) for other GAR forces, creating field hospitals, shelters, field kitchens and especially - dealing with outbreaks of various diseases, not only among GAR soldiers and Republic allies, but also civilian population left to fend for themselves in wake of the Clone Wars.

The second-in-command is a Jedi healer apprentice nicknamed "Mercy”. He belongs to a species, that appears almost immortal due the fact that apart of long life-span they have highly potent healing factor (wounds heal in half the time... even those considered to be fatal), both high pain tolerance and threshold and high immunity (making him immune to most known deceases) that being said, his species is one of few in the Galaxy, allergic to Bacta (to the point submerging a person in it might be disastrous). That’s also why medics under his command quickly learn to use Bacta as a last resort after exhausting all the other treatment options, which is very helpful when they have to aid less advanced civilizations, their resources are spread thin or they’re forced to work “on the budget”.

The clone medic is named “40″. He was a sole survivor of a battle going awry (before 347th Regiment was formed). He was unconscious by the time another unit came on site to bury the dead, and if not for Mercy and his master (who, by chance, were present at the fallout) 40 would have been buried alive with the rest in a mass grave.

Despite the battalion being quite resourceful and chaotic when it comes to rule bending - the will bend over backwards to help people in need - they follow safety/medical procedures rigorously. Thus they often look out for other clones, like distribute protection at bars or cringe every time they learn some clone troopers don’t wash their hands at public restrooms.

Each time clone troopers/medics step out of the ship to the possibly infected zone, their armor is sealed with yellow strips (“do not tamper, safety seal”) - to indicate, when torn, the armor has been compromised. Affected clone trooper has to go under a strict quarantine, in some cases even used to study the disease when infected.

For the worse conditions, when air-filtration in their helmets is suspected to not be enough to secure their safety, they have bottles oh breathable air that can be strapped to the backs.

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EDIT 18.09.2022: I reworded some awkward bits and added a bit of lore.

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See more posts about 347th regiment here -> [LINK] <-

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STAR WARS: The Clone Wars/The Bad Batch © George Lucas/ Dave Filoni/ LucasFilm/ Disney  

#star wars #the clone wars #clone wars #TCW #OC padawan #OC jedi #OC clone trooper #fanart #Misma corps #347th Regiment

[ambrossart]

Paper Men: Ch. 31 *Preview #2*

Once again, apologies for the long wait. I should have the full release ready to go next week.

This preview contains the full Evelyn-Henry flashback (I shared a small excerpt from it previously) as well as some additional content.

Thanks for reading! ❤️

Word count: 3,200

____________________________________________

"Did you get a brain freeze, too?"

Henry had been sitting on the curb, just like he was doing now, when he felt someone sit down next to him. It was a girl, younger than he was, smaller than he was, dressed in a pink shirt with yellow flowers on the front. Her lips were stained a deep and absurd purple, but Henry hadn’t cared enough to ask why.

“Go away,” he said, but she didn’t. She just sat there staring at him with this dumb, fascinated expression, her head tossed to one side, purple lips slightly parted as if struck by sudden bewilderment. Henry glared back at her uncomfortably, feeling vulnerable and exposed. He didn’t like those brown eyes of hers, so large and curious. They seemed to be searching for something, something Henry kept hidden deep inside him… and they found it; somehow, they found it.

He saw her hand coming toward him next, reaching, preparing to take it, and he smacked her hand away as hard as he could. It all happened so fast. Lightning fast. Henry never even had a chance to think about it. His fist made a loud, meaty thwack. It was a very satisfying sound—the sound of power, the sound of respect, the sound of ill-mannered children finally being put back in their place. But then those eyes, those curious brown eyes, widened with such surprised hurt. The sight of them made Henry’s screaming red world bleed away. Guilt cut through him. His left hand uncurled and fell limp at his side. He had hit her too hard, much too hard, and now her hand was turning red, much too red. She cradled it against her chest and bore her pain in silence, just as his mother had.

“Sorry,” she said afterward. Her voice was soft and timid. 

What are you saying sorry for? Henry thought, dumbfounded, while his culpable hand lay open beside him. He hadn’t meant to hit her so hard.

“You have a cut on your face,” the girl said carefully. “Does it hurt?”

“Huh?” Henry touched his hand to the apple of his cheek and felt the ghostly twinge of last night’s wound. His cut had started to bleed again, but only a little. “Oh… no.”

“Well, it looks like it hurts.” 

The girl observed her injured hand and flexed it a few times: opening it, closing it, wiggling all of her fingers. She seemed satisfied, but Henry wasn’t. He really shouldn’t have hit her so hard.

“You should put a bandaid on that cut,” she said, “or else it could get infected.” 

“Infected?” 

“Mhm, and that would be bad… like really bad. You might need an amputation.” 

“Am-pyuh-tay-shun?” The word was large and ominous. “What’s that?”

“It’s when the doctor cuts off part of your body. My friend Vic told me about it once. It sounds really scary.” 

“They would cut off my face?”

“I guess so.” 

Henry tried to imagine that, but he couldn’t. 

“I think you’re lying,” he said. “You’re trying to trick me.” 

“I’m not lying. I never lie.” 

“Everyone lies.” 

“Well, I don’t.” 

“That’s a lie right there.” 

Glaring at him, the girl opened her mouth to argue, snapped it closed without a word, and then forced a big huff of hot air through her nostrils. “Well, you should get one anyway.” 

“Get what?”

“A bandaid. Just in case.”

Henry frowned. “I don’t have any bandaids.” 

“You don’t? Hmm… well, doesn’t your mom have some?”

Henry’s frown deepened. It hurt too much to think about his mom right now. “I guess she does… or she did… but I don’t know where she keeps them.”

“Oh…” Her face crinkled into a troubled expression. “My mom keeps ours under the sink in her bathroom. She has a whole case of ‘em. I’m not supposed to go in there ‘cause there’s really dangerous stuff under the sink, chemicals and stuff, but…” She went quiet for a minute, lost in grave contemplation. Then she hopped to her feet. “Okay, I’ll be back.”

Back?

That word made Henry’s whole body tense up. He thought of his mother’s kitchen pantry, of that empty shelf where the chicken stock was supposed to sit, and he drew his knees into his chest and wrapped his arms around them. “If you wanna go, just go. You don’t have to make up a lie.” 

“What? I’m not lying. I’m gonna go get you a bandaid. Then I’ll come right back.” She turned around, took a few steps, and stopped. “Hey, you’re not gonna leave, are you?”

“Huh?”

“If I come back and you’re not here, I’m gonna be really mad.” 

Henry couldn’t imagine this girl being mad, not even a little bit. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said anyway. 

“Pinky swear?”

“What?”

“Pinky swear!” She came to him with her right pinky out. Henry let her hook it around his. He felt like he had no other choice. “Now you better not be lying,” she said, “or else your pinky will fall off.”

“What?”

She giggled. “Just kidding! My dad says that all the time. It probably won’t happen, but you better keep your promise anyway, just in case.” She released his pinky and stepped back again, her warmth lingering on his skin. “I’ll be back in, uhh, five minutes, okay? Wait right here.” 

She took off running and was gone. Henry sat on the curb and waited. Five minutes came, then went. Ten minutes came, then went. With each passing second, Henry felt his disappointment building, burning, rekindling his briefly forgotten hatred. 

Everyone lies. Why did he think she would be any different? 

Henry considered leaving himself. A couple times he almost did, but then he looked down at his pinky, remembered his promise, and sat back down. He waited for twenty minutes that day, sure that she was never coming back, scared that she was never coming back, and then he heard her cheerful voice ringing in the distance: 

“Mission accomplished!” 

She was running and panting and lugging a giant plastic case along by the handle. She had gone to get a bandaid and came back with her mother’s first aid kit. 

“Why’d you bring the whole thing?” Henry asked, marveling at her.

“I didn’t know what size to get.” 

Turns out, the girl wasn’t a liar, after all. She just had no concept of time.

She sat down beside him, caught her breath, popped open the case, and started pulling out bandaids and comparing them against the size of Henry’s cut. “Too big… too big… way too big… hmm…” She held up a tiny yellow bandaid and kept it there for a moment, her brown eyes taking on a prideful shine. “This one. This one’s perfect.” While unwrapping it, she said, “These are my special bandaids, but you can have one. I don’t mind.” 

She pressed the bandaid to his cheek. It almost felt like a kiss. 

“There,” she said. “You should be okay now.” 

Henry felt his face get hot, but not unpleasantly so. “They won’t cut my face off?” 

“I hope not.” The girl smiled at him, a sunny, perfect smile, and Henry’s face got hotter still. “I’m Evelyn, but you can call me Evie if you want. Most people do.”

“Okay.” 

Evelyn giggled. Her laugh was as sweet and disarming as she was. “You’re supposed to say your name now.” 

“Oh…” Henry reached down to dust off some of the dirt from his black sneakers. Hers were white, pretty, and had been doodled all over with colored markers. “It’s Henry. My name’s Henry.”

She said Henry was a very nice name, that it suited him perfectly, but Henry had never thought so, not until he heard her say it. 

Evelyn. So her name was Evelyn… but you can call me Evie if you want. Most people do. But he wouldn’t. No, if most people called her Evie, then Henry didn’t want to. He wanted to call her something different. Something special. Something that made her think of him. Only him. Henry didn’t know where this feeling came from, but he knew it couldn’t be ignored.

“Hey, Evie!” someone shouted from far away. 

Henry looked across the street and saw two boys standing on the other side. One was small and scrawny, with dirty blond hair, a shade lighter than Henry’s own. The other boy was taller, with darker hair, and he didn’t look like he wanted to be there at all. Evelyn’s face lit up as soon as she saw them. Meanwhile, Henry sat in her shadow, feeling cold and alone. He didn’t like these two boys, whoever they were. He wanted them to go away.

“Jimmy,” Evelyn said, “you’re back!” 

“Uh-huh!” The small boy—Jimmy—answered. “We’re heading over to the playground now if you wanna come.”

Evelyn gasped excitedly. “I can come? Really? You’re not fooling?”

The tall boy answered with an annoyed groan: “No, Evelyn, we’re not fooling you. Now hurry up before we change our minds.” 

The small boy said something then, something Henry couldn’t quite hear, but whatever it was, it made the tall boy go quiet, shuffle back a step, and stare down at the ground. Henry didn’t like this tall boy, not at all, yet he couldn’t understand why.

Even more upsetting was how fast Evelyn jumped to her feet. 

“This is my time to shine!” she said to herself. “Don’t mess this up, Evie, don’t mess this up!”

And now that cold feeling was back again. She was leaving. She was leaving with those two boys and Henry would never see her again. I don’t care, Henry decided. He wasn’t planning on sticking around anyway.

But then he heard Evelyn’s voice again, and felt her bright smile warming his face.

“You wanna come to the playground with us? Vic can be a little mean sometimes, but Jimmy’s really nice. We can play on the jungle gym and the merry-go-round and swing on the swings. I like to swing real high and then jump off—shoom!—but I fall sometimes. Last week, I hurt my knee. See?” She showed Henry the scabbed-over scrape on her right knee. Henry thought she needed to be more careful. “It doesn’t hurt anymore, but my mom said I’m not allowed to jump off the swings anymore. She said I might break something, and that would be bad… Anyway, you wanna come? It’ll be a lotta fun.”

Henry shook his head. He didn’t want to go to the playground, not if those boys were going, too. 

“Oh…” She pouted a little. “Well, I guess I’ll see you at school then. I’m starting kindergarten tomorrow. I’m a little scared, but mostly excited. What grade are you in?”

“First grade,” Henry answered. His kindergarten teacher, Miss Kissel, had recommended he stay in kindergarten for another year (he wasn’t learning his letters fast enough), but his father didn’t think that was necessary. Now Henry wished he had been kept back. It would’ve been nice to see Evelyn at school every day.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Evelyn said, sounding equally disappointed. “Well, maybe I’ll see you at recess… maybe… but you’ll probably be playing with your other friends then. You’ll probably ignore me. Boys always get meaner when they’re with their other friends. It’s not really fair, but—” 

“I don’t have any friends,” Henry told her, “but you probably won’t see me anyway.” 

“Huh? Why not?”

“Because I’m running away today.” 

Evelyn’s eyes widened. “Running away?” She clasped her hands over her mouth and stared at him in disbelief. It was as if Henry had just uttered the mother of all curse words. Shock and sadness swam in her eyes. In a heartbroken voice, she asked, “Why would you wanna run away?” 

Her friends were calling out to her now: “Evie! Evie! Are you coming or not?” 

“I’m coming!” Evelyn yelled back frantically. “Don’t go without me, I’m coming!” She looked at her friends, then down at Henry, and her face darkened with conflicted pain. “I wanna go, but…”

In the end, she didn’t. She told her friends to go play without her. 

“C’mon,” she said to Henry, “I wanna show you something,” and she took him to her special spot, which would eventually become their special spot, situated outside the Derry city limits.

“You said you wanted to get outta Derry, right? Well, here ya go! You’re officially outta Derry. Pretty neat, huh?” 

It was just a rock on the side of the road, a giant rock surrounded by dirt, grass, and trees, yet it was the only place Henry could breathe freely, think clearly. Henry always wondered why that was. Maybe it was the location or maybe it was simply the company he kept. He and Evelyn stayed on that rock for the rest of the day, huddled together, sometimes talking, sometimes just sitting quietly and enjoying the silence. Afterward, as the sun began to set, she turned to him with the saddest smile Henry had ever seen.

“I have to go home now,” she said, “but you can stay if you want… or leave; I guess you can do that too, if you still want to.” 

Henry had every intention of running away that day. In hindsight, he probably should have.

But how could he leave when Evelyn was still stuck in Derry?

She’s not worth it, Henry thought presently, soberly, his anger finally receding into a woeful grey calm. Did I really say that to her? Did I? Did I?

Yes. Yes, he did. 

The realization made his stomach wrench with such sickening guilt. He hadn’t meant to say that. She had to know he had never meant to say that… not out loud, anyway. 

Another wave of guilt crashed over him. Bearing it, Henry lifted his head and felt a tear escape his eye. Just one. One was all he could manage. It slipped out, stopped halfway down his face, and dried there against the wind. No more tears came after that. It had been a long time since Henry allowed himself to have a proper cry. He didn’t trust himself anymore. The last time had really fucked things up for him. 

I guess that’s my fault, too. 

Henry didn’t know why he sought out Evelyn that day, why that one beating broke him more than any of the others. His dad found out he was failing math, geography, and English, and Henry would have to attend summer school if he wanted to stay on track. His dad said summer school wasn’t an option. Butch couldn’t afford to be down a man during the farm’s busiest season. Henry refused. He didn’t want to repeat the ninth grade, fall behind, and watch his friends go on without him—and he wouldn't. Butch, saying nothing, struck him with his open palm and sent him sprawling across the kitchen floor. Then he ripped off his belt and hit him a dozen more times. At least. Henry stopped counting after that. It didn’t matter how many times that belt came down, how hard it came down; all Henry could think about was Evelyn moving on without him, graduating without him, getting out of Derry, going off to college, getting married, raising a family, all while Henry was stuck right here. In this house. In this hell. Alone. 

Maybe that was what broke him. Maybe that was why he so desperately needed to see her that day. 

So he did. Henry went to her and she was there. Didn’t even ask him what happened. She probably didn’t need to. 

And when Evelyn brought him into her house, into her room, into her bed, when Henry sat upon her soft floral quilt and saw all the postcards on her wall—depicting places Henry would probably never see himself—something inside him shattered. He started sobbing uncontrollably, releasing a near decade’s worth of pent-up emotions. He thought of his mother, of the last kiss she ever gave him. He thought of her empty bed and her closet full of clothes. All her makeup. Her hairbrush. Her jewelry. Everything exactly as she left it. He thought of the broken picture frame on top of his dresser. He had torn out her photo years ago but kept the frame. It was still there, right next to the blue gel pen Evelyn had given him earlier that year. Henry never used it because he didn’t want the ink to run out, because he knew one day that pen would be the only thing he had left of her, and that made him cry even harder. Grief suffocated him. Reality slipped away from him. His mind skidded sideways and suddenly he was back in his house, in his kitchen, bawling under the table like a baby, like a scared little baby waiting for his mommy to come home. Except she was never coming home. 

That’s when he heard Evelyn’s voice and felt her warm weight next to him, friendly, womanly, perhaps even a little motherly—yeah, there was no denying that. Ten years ago, Henry’s mother walked out of his life. The next day, Evelyn entered it. She was five. She was fifteen. She was sitting right beside him, always beside him. It didn’t matter where Henry was, what he said, what he did, Evelyn was always there: as his friend, his mother, his lover, whatever Henry needed her to be. 

That day, he just needed her to be there.

I think I’m putting too much on you, he realized then as he looked at her, her face awash with sympathy and sorrow, brown eyes reflecting his pain. She looked so beautiful like that. How much more can you take before you break, I wonder. A lot? A little? Can you handle just a little more? 

It was almost sadistic, the way he treated her, but Henry didn’t care. He couldn’t care. He ached so deeply and she was the only one who could make that pain go away. It was hard not to get a little greedy. Was it fair? Probably not, but then again life wasn’t fair, was it? Henry didn’t ask to be born into an abusive household. Didn’t ask for his mother to abandon him. Didn’t ask for Evelyn to wander over, sit down next to him, and smile that perfect smile. She just appeared. She appeared when Henry needed her most. Almost like she was made for him. Why shouldn’t he use her as often as he pleased? However he pleased? Why shouldn’t he take and take and take until there’s nothing left? Henry hated himself for thinking this, yet he selfishly clung to her anyway. He almost cried when he felt her hand brush against his face, warm, soft. Her sparkling eyes sought his earnestly, innocently, and asked for a little something in return. Henry knew what she wanted. He had seen it in her eyes ten years ago. He thought she had forgotten about it by now.

Take it, he thought. It’s broken and worthless now, but you can have it if you want. It’s probably all rotten inside, but you can have it if you want. I won’t fight you anymore. Just don’t blame me if it kills you in the end. I never asked for any of this.

#bowers gang #henry bowers #patrick hockstetter #victor criss #belch huggins #it stephen king #it movie #it 2017 #preview #fic preview #it fanfiction #paper men #ambrossart

[fallenwhumpee]

Why howdy!! 'Tis I, :D anon, unable to resist the call of the arrow that has struck me thusly. Anyway here you go :)) dw I have put one (1) bandaid on the wound upon removal. I see no way that can go wrong.

-

In Leader's defense, Teammate looked like shit.

What else were they supposed to do? They were the captain, after all, and Teammate did just recover from a nasty infection. They couldn't risk catching the bug going around this time of year. So of course Leader coaxed them into their bedroom, quietly making sure Caretaker kept an eye on them while they took Teammate's work into their own hands.

(Besides, if Caretaker was busy with Teammate, that meant they couldn't pester Leader with stuff like "resting" and "holy shit, Leader, put the coffee down!" as if either were viable options.)

The clock on their desk had been turned face down. The term "plausible deniability" flit through their head. They slammed a metaphorical flyswapper on it immediately.

No light was filtering through their curtains anymore, but that was fine. The sun was setting early these days, anyway. Besides, the reports weren't going to do themselves. Teammate's portion was finally finished, and they set it aside to do their own work.

(If they winced as they moved, nobody was there to see it.)

It was standard stuff they expected to see after being rescued: injury reports, health leave, etc, etc. It was all perfectly mundane deskwork, especially in comparison to what Whumper had--

No, nope, not thinking about that. Focus, Leader, they scolded themself. Deep breath in, deep breath out. If they had to do it through their mouth and ignore their screaming ribs, then so be it.

Distantly, they were aware that if any other member of the team tried to pull this sort of stunt, they would've suspended them from their duties and put them on bedrest faster than Whumper could--

No! They weren't supposed to be thinking about that! They shouldn't. Just head down, focus on their work. If they couldn't even do that, how else could they help their team? No, they couldn't give into that weakness. It was just a report. They could do this without having to stifle these irrational thoughts about-- about the past few months. They had to, or they'd spiral, and that would do nobody any favours.

Getting up only to dim the lights (to save power, they told themself. It had nothing to do with their head), Leader continued to work as the moon climbed higher into the sky, trading places with the sun.

(And if they simply curled up on the floor of their office after finishing the report, unable to make it to their room... well, hopefully nobody would notice.)

-

Tada :)) first snippet of the new year I suppose :D happy new year btw!! Gotta love starting my new year with some leader whumpees who try too hard

Also, totally unrelated to the whole "struck by an arrow" thing, but is it just me or is the room spinning

Hi, dear anon!

Oh wow. Just... just the hypocrisy. The hypocrisy and denial. Those two things will never fail to give me good whumperflies. And overworking can always distract you from every unpleasant thought crawling through the edges of your brain. Focusing on something is like putting a shadow or drawing a curtain over everything. They still stay there, but you don't see, only until your eyes get used to dark— starting to do the job automatically in this case. And sleeping on the floor is awful, they will be so sore when they wake up (with a nightmare would be delicious, but poor leader seems to have enough demons to deal with, since it's possible that they will feel guily about not completing the work anyway)

Happy New Year to you, too! You chose the best way to start the year :) I also posted traitor as my first writing of the year hehehe.

Please go lay down! I may not be a mama bear like a caretaker but I won't stop bullying a friend to rest/sleep/eat/get hydrated. If you hadn't done any of that in the last two hours, go and do it. Take care of yourself, please.

#:D anon #:D anon writes whump #ask

[lyriumlullaby-ao3]

okay hi friends, i’m home from school and i have just enough brain power to talk about

Mythal and the creation of the Blight ✨

those of you who’ve been reading my meta lately may recall that i said i had theories about this. we’re gonna dive into them now :)

if you’ve never taken Solas to the Temple of Mythal, you need to—it opens up SO much dialogue, including a discussion of the TONS of statues and representations of the Dread Wolf inside the temple. I'm not going to go super in depth about that content here, i'm saving it for another post, but the important thing to note here is that depictions of the Dread Wolf are literally EVERYWHERE in there. i haven't counted, but i'd be willing to bet there's more imagery of him than any other 'god' besides Mythal herself.

and in the game's epilogue scene and Trespasser, we get a taste of Solas'/the Dread Wolf's relationship to Mythal. It's a bit obscured as to the nature of that relationship (again, stuff for a different post!), but they're obviously quite close, with warm (if complex) feelings towards one another.

for those who haven’t read Tevinter Nights (one, you should if you get the chance, it’s fantastic), there’s a short story contained within called "Dread Wolf Take You" written by our very fave, Patrick Weekes. now, i’m not gonna spoil anything there, but there's some important discussion of the red lyrium idol found in the deep roads during DA2. here’s what it looks like, in detail, for those who’ve forgotten:

[source]

In that same short story, this idol is described as "two lovers [embracing], or a god mourning her sacrifice." there is also a point in that piece where it comes out that Solas considers this idol to be “his.” okay... why?

i think it's because it depicts himself and Mythal. not a stretch with the imagery, right? and i'm not inclined to think they were lovers, at least not anymore. they might have been, but if so, it wasn't the core aspect of their relationship in my eyes. i'll explore that in more detail later on in another post as well. so this leads me to the consideration of 'a god mourning her sacrifice.' (and this, only because i'm inclined to follow the breadcrumbs given us by bioware, especially Patrick Weekes. they're good at weaving stories, as has been pointed out by other users talking about their discussion of what a good story twist is. god i CANNOT find the post?? pls if you see it send it my way bc i feel bad for mentioning it but not linking it.)

in the Temple of Mythal, we learn from Abelas that Mythal was killed, "murdered," as he describes it, and this is confirmed by Solas in Trespasser. Solas says the other gods killed her. now, i'm uncertain about whether this is literal or a metaphor, but i don't think it much matters. i'll explore both views as i keep analyzing and you can decide for yourself.

so here's what i think: i've mentioned before that i believe the Blight to be a biological weapon created by the Evanuris during their war with the Titans. it was specifically created to infect Titans and corrupt/destroy them. this is why we end up with lyrium that has the blight, red lyrium. and here's where we get into the part that's still a bit fuzzy to me. i'm going to lay out a few possible scenarios, but there are certainly more, so if you see something i've missed, please do add on!! i'm going to offer these in the order of what i think is least to most likely.

scenario one: the Evanuris (possibly lead by Elgar'nan, although that's not really important,) create a horrible biological weapon that will infect the physical world, but leave the spiritual untouched. there is no Veil yet at this point in time, so this is an aspect of its engineering, not a feature of the world's structure. they need a blood sacrifice to complete its construction, the sacrifice of a living being (or beings) to finish it and send it off to destroy the world. they decide on Mythal, storm her temple, and murder her to complete the weapon. (this would follow with a few of the things Abelas says at the Well of Sorrows: "[Mythal] was slain, if a god truly can be. Betrayed by those who destroyed this temple.") Solas casts the Veil to prevent the Blight's release, sealing the Evanuris away and locking whatever 'warhead' the Blight is contained within in "the Golden City," which i believe was Arlathan, behind the Veil. this warhead then corrupts the city, blackening it, and accounting for what Corypheus describes when he and the other Magisters Sidereal breach the Veil and enter this supposedly "Golden City" only to find it tainted and empty.

scenario two: where everything is the same, except the Evanuris plan to sacrifice many lives, likely those of slaves, and Mythal instead intervenes. there is a legend told of a time when Elgar'nan and Falon'Din were going to war over some argument, and Mythal interceded, suggesting they resolve the conflict with a single champion each, rather than sending their many soldiers to their deaths. They did so, and thus Mythal saved the lives of untold thousands. What if she did the same here? What if she offered to die for the cause instead of sending an untold number of slaves to their deaths? Perhaps there was something about her form, her body, her power, that made her blood more potent and thus other sacrifices were unneeded? i like this one slightly more than the first, because of the way Weekes describes the red lyrium idol as an image of Mythal's sacrifice. But this still leaves us without a way to account for the destruction of her temple, if she went willingly. which leads me to...

scenario three: my personal favorite theory. the Evanuris create this weapon, despite protests from Mythal, and are prepared to kill her to get their way if they must. Elgar'nan is notoriously ruthless in this way, and if he was indeed the ring leader, as i suspect he was, this is very plausible to me. completing the weapon may or may not have required a blood sacrifice all the same--if it didn't, no problem, but if it did, perhaps the sacrifice of many slaves was still the plan. this matters little to this scenario, as you'll see in a moment. Mythal goes to Solas, a trusted friend, a favored companion, however you see their relationship. (i'll get to that in my next meta, i promise, so no spoilers on what i think!!) She knows of a way to stop them, and she knows it requires blood magic, a life sacrificed. She would never ask another to die for something like this, and so she offers herself. Solas is horrified, but knows she is right, and that this is the only way. Mythal kills herself, and Solas uses the power of her blood to cast the Veil, separating the world of spirits from the physical world. the Evanuris breach Mythal's temple in search of her, and, finding it empty, desecrate and destroy it, until they find themselves caught in the wake of the Veil coming down. i like this theory best because it accounts for all the pieces: Weekes' use of the term "sacrifice" for Mythal, Abelas' description of Mythal's death (mostly, if we take the term "murder" metaphorically, in that she was forced into a situation by others where she had to die against her will), and Solas' attitudes towards blood magic. recall that he says it's a tool like any other, and when it's used to gain power, that's wrong, but it need not always be evil. and note that he says he's never bothered to learn it (possibly a lie, he tells many of those) because it makes it harder to access the Fade. now, to the matter of if the blood sacrifice was still needed to release the weapon... maybe it was. and if so, perhaps that's part of how the Magisters Sidereal unintentionally released it upon the world, as they were said to have sacrificed "slaves beyond counting" (Canticle of Silence 2:2) in order to breach the Fade. So either way, it seems the sacrifice requirement was fulfilled.

in all of these scenarios, it's worth pointing out that the Evanuris, if they're smart (which, don't they have to be at least a little, to get to where they are?), must have some way to separate their spiritual selves from their physical forms in order to avoid the Blight when it is unleashed. I have more to say about this, but it's better left to my next post. :) so for now, just stay tuned on that, but the point here is, if they have done so in preparation for the release of the weapon, wouldn't that make it awfully easy and convenient to seal them away from the physical world entirely?

so, with all that said, stuff that still needs exploring in future meta:

Solas' nature. A spirit? A demon? A god? Just some fucking guy trying to do the right thing? I'll talk about this next time. :)

Solas' and Mythal's relationship! Also something that will go in my next meta post.

writing this also gave me ideas about the Evanuris and the Old Gods that i'm going to talk more about. i'm pretty sure i made a post especially about this already? and if so perhaps i'll rewrite it, but it may have been an addition on someone else's post, in which case i'm going to make my own!

plus a few other assorted things featuring Cullen, Cole, and dwarves! (not all at once. sorry lol)

in summary, the Blight's a biological weapon, and that's why Mythal died/was murdered and Solas cast the Veil and sundered the world. <3

#dragon age meta #solas dragon age #the evanuris #mythal #meta #dragon age #dragon age trespasser spoilers #idk its sorta old but some ppl are new to the fandom so :) #antares speaks #antares' meta #oh note to self: i also gotta write some meta about wtf is lyrium and why does it work like that