fishcowwrites - Tumblr blog

fishcowwrites · 6 months ago

Text

Fall Apart When It Hurts Too Much

Smallcrow oneshot

2.4k words cross posted on ao3 under cut

WARNINGS: blood and injury, car crashes

I have no clue how hospitals/EMTs/injuries works. all info is from greys anatomy/station 19 lmao

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

Lights were flashing. People were screaming. There was broken glass and crumpled metal everywhere and blood. So much blood. It was warm and sticky, coating everything. Someone was calling his name, somewhere in the sea of flashing black. Dimly, Eric registered the voice as Abby’s. Abby. She was nice.

“-ic? Oh God! Oh! No! How! Eric! No!” She was sobbing, her breath coming in short bursts.

“Don’t cry…” Eric mumbled. A tear of his own was running up his forehead. Up? Oh. He was upside down. She was upside down too. They were upside down. I don’t think I’ve ever really been upside down, Eric thought. I can’t even do a handstand.

A memory appeared through the fog. Tanner was trying to teach him how to do a handstand. He had fallen over. They were both laughing. It was nice. Tanner. He liked Tanner. They were going to see him. At… at a restaurant. They were going to see Tanner at a restaurant. They had just done an interview. Tanner had gone back to his hotel to change. He was going to meet them at a restaurant. Where was he now?

“Help! HELP! HELP!” Abby shrieked. “PLEASE! HELP!” There were pretty lights. Blues and reds, swirling around. The sirens were annoying, though. They made his head hurt. God, his head hurt. There were more voices now. Abby was still screaming. He tried to look at her.

There was blood on her face and on her head, matting her hair together. She had a large gash on her arm and- a second head? No, that was someone looking through her window. Someone was talking to her, trying to calm her down. But she wouldn’t stop screaming.

“Sir. Sir, can you hear me?” There was someone else. A man. Sticking his head through the window hole. He had a beard. He always liked it when Tanner grew his beard out. That man was shining a flashlight in his eyes. Rude.

“Sir, can you tell me your name?” His name. Hmmm. That was tough. Tanner? No, that wasn’t it. Was it Abby? Adam? Doug? Those weren’t quite right. His name was-

“Mmmmmmeric.” God, he was tired. He just wanted to go to sleep. Maybe he could nap for just a few seconds. Just a few seconds. Just a few-

“Hey! Hey. Stay with me, okay? Can you keep your eyes open?” The rude bearded man asked. He tried to nod, but his head wouldn’t move. Why couldn’t his head move?

There was a loud of metal as the car door was pried off. The cold night air rushed around him, a stark contrast to the warmth of all the blood. Why was there so much blood? There was a sharp pinprick feeling across his front, but he couldn’t look down.

He tried to look around instead. Everything was blurry. Faintly, he noticed he no longer had his glasses. Where had they gone? To his right, there were men in uniforms carrying all sorts of things. And to his left should be Abby. But… she was gone. Where was she? Who took her? Where was Abby? Where was Abby??

“Abby!” He tried to yell. His throat felt glued together. “Abby! ABBY!”

“Eric, you said? Eric, please try to stop moving. We’re working to get you out safely, but you have to stop moving.” The bearded man was back with more stupid requests. But he didn’t have to listen. There were more important matters.

“ABBY! ABBY!” He had to find her. She was his best friend. What if something had happened to her? “ABBY! ABBY! AB-” He broke down coughing, the taste of blood filling his mouth. Black spots swam in his vision as the already upside-down world began to tilt. This wasn’t supposed to be happening. He was supposed to be at dinner, with Abby and Doug and Dan and Tanner. Tonight was the night when he was going to tell Tanner how he really felt. What if he died and Tanner never knew? All he knew then was he wanted Tanner with him. Where was he?

“Tanner…”

Everything went black.

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

They had been sitting at the restaurant for twenty minutes. Doug had said it was probably just bad LA traffic, but something felt off. For one, neither Eric nor Abby was responding to their phones. All calls went straight to voicemail. Something was definitely wrong, but Tanner didn’t know what to do. So when an unknown number called, he picked it up.

“Is this Tanner Ant?” An unfamiliar voice asked.

“Yes, this is he.” Tanner responded, trying to ignore Doug and Dan’s questioning looks.

“This is the Riverside General Hospital. You’re listed here as Eric Morino’s emergency contact. He’s been in an accident.”

Oh god.

Eric.

His Eric.

No.

“Sir, are you still there?” Tanner quickly brushed away the tears that had been forming in his eyes as he stood up.

“Yeah. Yeah. Sorry. I’ll- I’ll be right over. Thank you.” He quickly hung up, trying to slow his breathing. Doug and Dan were still staring at him, as confused as ever.

“Eric- he’s been in an accident.” Tanner explained, his voice cracking on the last word. “I- I have to go.” Doug and Dan looked at each other, shocked.

“Yeah, no, of course go. We’ll be fine here.” Doug said, eyes wide. Tanner managed to give them a half-nod before he sped out the door.

Hating hospitals always felt so cliche to Tanner. But there wasn’t really much to like about them. For one, you really only ever went to them for bad reasons. Like now. The person on the phone hadn’t said anything about Eric’s condition. For all he knew, Eric could be-

No. That wasn’t an option. Eric was alive. Eric had to be alive. They had only said he was in an accident, nothing more. For all he knew, Eric could be completely fine! A little shaken up, but fine nonetheless. That had to be it. Eric was fine.

The woman at the front desk wouldn’t tell him anything. She said he just had to sit down and wait. But he couldn’t. Instead, Tanner started pacing the waiting room. He didn’t know how much time had passed before he realized how hungry he was. Oh right. He hadn’t eaten dinner. The receptionist directed him to the vending machine in the hallway, shooting him a sympathetic look.

Tanner was in the middle of choosing what to get when he noticed a woman staring at him from across the hall. It was Abby. Shit, he had completely forgotten she would’ve been in the car too. She was in a hospital gown, leaning on an IV pole. There were bandages wrapped around her head and one of her arms was in a sling. As soon as he looked at her, she started walking towards him.

“Tanner! They won’t let me see Eric! They won’t let me see him and they won’t tell me anything!” She was crying, and it was obvious that she had been for a while. There was a fractured look in her eyes as she grabbed Tanner’s shoulder.

“They won’t tell me what’s happening! God, the car came out of nowhere! We didn’t see it coming and then it hit us! And Eric- oh god! There was blood, so much blood, so much-” Two nurses suddenly came from behind, flanking either side of her.

“Ma’am, you have to get back to your room. You’re hurt and you need to rest.” They tried to gently turn her around, but as soon as one of them touched her, she started screaming.

“NO! Tanner, you have to help Eric! You have to help! The car! The car! You have to help him! Help! Help! HELP!” The two nurses had to restrain her, minding her injuries. Tanner wanted to throw up, seeing her half-dragged away, kicking and screaming. It was awful.

Suddenly, a doctor appeared beside him.

“Tanner Ant, yes? You’re Mr. Morino’s…”

“…Friend.” The word “boyfriend” almost rolled off his tongue, but he caught himself. They weren’t dating. Hell, they had barely just started talking again. It was just wishful thinking.

“Well, Mr. Ant, there was a car accident. Mr. Morino is currently in surgery. He is in critical condition, but the doctors are trying their best stabilize him. We’ll update you as soon as we know more.” Accident. Critical condition. Surgery. Tanner’s head was swimming.

“Will he be okay, though? Will he-” Tanner choked up, his mind refusing to think of the worst. “Will he make it?”

“Like I said, we’ll know more eventually. And when we do, we’ll tell you. I’m sorry I don’t know more.” The doctor explained. “Oh, and I take it you knew that woman?” Tanner nodded numbly. “If you could give her information to the front desk, that would be a huge help. Again, I’m sorry I can’t tell you more.”

“Thank you…” The lump in Tanner’s throat made it hard to speak.

“Dr. Gabor.”

“Thank you, Dr. Gabor.” Tanner said quietly, shaking the doctor’s hand before turning back to the waiting room.

Every moment was pain, not knowing whether Eric would be okay. He mumbled Abby’s details to the receptionist and texted her sister about what happened. After that, all he could do was wait. Tanner hated not having control. That was what hurt the most. Knowing Eric was in pain but not being able to help. So he waited.

Eventually, he must have fallen asleep. When he woke up, just for a moment, he thought he saw Eric, illuminated by the sun. But when he reached out, he was gone.

“Mr. Ant?” Tanner whipped around to see the doctor again. “The surgery went… well. He’s stable for now, but he’s still in critical condition and there’s still a lot of work that needs to be done. He’ll need at least another surgery, but we’re giving his body a break for now. I have high hopes for his recovery, though, as he’s been responding well to the treatment. I still can’t give a definite answer, however. I hope you can understand. He’s under sedation, but you can see him if you’d like.” The doctor said. Tanner’s heart leapt. Eric was fine. In critical condition, yes, but still. He was alive.

“Yes! Uh, yes, I… I want to see him. If- if it’s not too much trouble.” Tanner said, eyes wide. The doctor simply smiled and led him down another hallway.

“By the way, Abby’s sister came last night.” The doctor added. “She seems to be doing better, but we’re going to keep her a little longer. You can see her after if you want.” Tanner relaxed slightly. Abby was doing good. That was good. Maybe things were okay. Then they had arrived at Eric’s door. All of his fears suddenly came rushing back to him, his hand coming to a stop over the door handle.

“If it’s too much, you can see him later.” The doctor said, sensing Tanner’s hesitation.

“No, no, it’s fine. …I can do this.” Tanner took a deep breath, preparing himself as he opened the door.

Eric lay sleeping on the hospital bed. His abdomen was wrapped in thick bandages and sensors were placed all over his bare chest. There were stiches on his chin and along his arm, and a thick tube pushed into his mouth. Countless more tubes and wires were hooked up to him, connected to all sorts of machines that beeped and blinked.

The most horrifying part of it all was he looked so peaceful. Too peaceful. He looked dead as he lay there, pale and unmoving. He seemed so small, dwarfed by the machines surrounding him. It was all wrong, too wrong. He couldn’t take it anymore.

Tanner quickly stepped out of the room, leaning against the wall as he tried to steady himself. This wasn’t real. His Eric was loud, energetic, full of life. His Eric was funny and sharp and warm, not that shell of a body lying in that bed. He had to leave, he had to leave, he had to get out.

Tanner took off down the maze of hallways, searching mindlessly for the exit. Finally, air grazed his skin as the sunlight blinded him. He stopped in front of the entrance, trying to steady his breathing. He closed his eyes for a second as he tried to collect his thoughts.

The doctor had said it was bad. But he also said he was doing better. A sense of shame filled him. It was embarrassing, not even being able to stomach looking at Eric. What if that was the last chance he got? He had to go back.

Slowly, Tanner walked back towards Eric’s room. He opened the door quietly, taking deep breaths to calm himself. Even though he knew what to expect this time, it still hurt to see Eric like this. He sat down next to the bed, carefully taking hold of Eric’s hand.

“I don’t know if you can hear me.” Tanner began slowly. “But even if you can’t, I need to tell you something. The doctor- the doctor said he thinks you’ll get better. But he also said he doesn’t quite know. And- and if you-” His voice cracked as a tear ran down his face. Even just considering the possibility broke him. But he had to keep going.

“If you don’t, uh, make it. I need you to know.” He was sobbing now, unable to bring himself to look Eric in the face.

“I need you to know that I love you. I was going to tell you after dinner. I was going to ask- to ask if you’d go on a date with me. But now it might be too late. And it’ll be my fault for never telling you. I wish I’d told you sooner. I wish I’d done a lot of things differently. And- and so I need you to get better. So you can punch me for being stupid, or- or maybe tell me you love me too. Okay? You- you have to get better. Cause I don’t know what I’ll do if you don’t.” Tanner fell silent, save for his gasping breaths. “Okay. That’s enough from me. I’ll- I’ll let you rest now.”

Suddenly the door opened. Dr. Gabor was there, along with a few nurses beside him.

“Excuse me. We need to prep him for surgery now, if that’s alright. Do you need a moment, or-” Tanner shook his head, giving Eric’s hand one final squeeze before getting up.

He took his old seat in the waiting room, willing himself to stop crying. Eric was going to fine. He needed Eric to be fine. He needed Eric. But it was all out of his hands. All he could do was wait.

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

I hope you liked this!

#fanfic #fanfiction #smallcrow

3 notes · View notes

fishcowwrites · 7 months ago

Text

You've Begun to Feel Like Home

Smallcrow oneshot

1.5k words cross posted on ao3 under cut

i don't know what i'm doing so i hope this is good yuppers :)

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

In the early morning light, Eric carefully lifted Tanner’s suitcase out of the trunk. When Tanner had come for the Anthony Padilla interview, he had only stayed for two days. Now, with the Red Bull stream, it wasn’t even one day. But even if they had sponsored Tanner to stay for a year, it wouldn’t be enough. It would never be enough.

“So, uh, I think that’s it! I guess… I guess this is goodbye then, huh?” Eric said, making sure to avoid eye contact with the taller man. Tanner nodded slowly, making no move to grab his bags.

“Yup. That’s it.” Tanner shifted awkwardly. “Thanks for driving me to the airport. You really didn’t have to. “I know,” Eric said, staring at the ground. “I just… I wanted to, y’know?” Tanner didn’t respond.

The two of them stood there in uncomfortable silence for a while, both men reluctant to make the move to leave. Eric’s heartbeat thumped in his ears as his nails dug into his palms. Why couldn’t he just say something? Was he really about to let the best thing in his life leave again? One part of him felt like throwing up and another felt like bursting into tears. But those weren’t options.

“tannerbeforeyougoireallyneedtosaysomethingtoyouandimsorryifitsweirdbutithinkiloveyou.” The words seemed to rush out of Eric’s mouth before he could stop them. Upon realizing what he just said, he made a noise similar to “aoughck” as he felt his face turning bright red. He wanted to take off running as fast as possible, but it was like his feet were fused to the ground. Thankfully, Tanner didn’t laugh, scream, or punch him in the face, instead opting for a mildly confused expression.

“Sorry, I didn’t- I don’t know what you just said.” Tanner said. This was it. This was Eric’s chance to just say he hadn’t said anything and just walk away like nothing happened. Unfortunately, Eric was impulsive.

“I. Hm. Ha. Well. I said. A lot of things. Which things? In particular? Or just in general? Cause I know I talk a lot and sometimes that can be confusing, especially when I ramble, because I have a lot of thoughts and lot of things to say and-” Eric halted as Tanner took hold of one of his hands.

“Okay. Slow down, Eric. It’s okay. It’s just… I’m pretty sure I know what you said. But I need to be sure. Please.” Tanner’s voice was now hardly above a whisper, but Eric had heard every word. Shakily, he looked up. Tanner’s face was right in front of his, and- was he crying? No, not quite yet. But he looked pretty damn close to it. Tears he hadn’t even realized were brewing in his own eyes suddenly fell, leaving him feeling small and stupid as he quickly looked back towards the ground.

“Please, Eric. I need to know.” Tanner’s free hand tilted his chin up, forcing them to make eye contact. They were impossibly close now, almost as close as Eric had always dreamed of. It was now or never.

“I said…” Eric swallowed, trying to delay. “I said there was something I needed to tell you. Y’know, before you go. And-And I’m sorry if it’s weird, or if it makes you uncomfortable, or anything like that, but I really need to tell you this.” Eric took a deep breath, chewing on the inside of his lip as he tried gather the courage to say what he needed to. Because if he didn’t, it might eat him alive.

“I said that I think I love you.” Eric thought he might faint right then as he waited for Tanner to respond. Why wasn’t he responding? Did he hate Eric now? Had he always hated him? Oh god, he knew he shouldn’t have said anything. He should just crawl in a hole and die where no one could see him. He should be raptured by God and taken away from this world.

Suddenly, he heard something odd. It was… laughing. Tanner was laughing. Tanner was laughing at him. OH GOD, TANNER WAS LAUGHING AT HIM. His expression must have looked really bad, because quickly Tanner was rushing to reassure him.

“Oh, no, no Eric, it’s okay. I’m not, oh god. I’m not-” Tanner laughed as he looked at Eric, his eyes shining with something that could only be described as adoration. “It’s just… God, I’m stupid.”

“What?” Eric choked out. He didn’t know what to make of Tanner’s reaction. Was this good or bad? Did Tanner hate him now? Tanner was still quietly giggling to himself, seemingly getting a kick out of everything.

“CJ tried to tell me a while ago, but I didn’t believe him.” Tanner laughed, shaking his head. “He was practically yelling at me listen, but I didn’t.” If Eric was a computer, he would have bluescreened. It didn’t make sense. CJ? What was he talking about?

“CJ, he told me to tell you how I felt. How I’ve always felt.” Tanner explained, seemingly sensing Eric’s confusion. “Eric, I love you too. I have for years, even before… everything. And CJ was always telling me to just shoot my shot because you’d say yes. I told him he was crazy. I guess I owe him an apology now.”

I love you too. Those were the words that Eric had dreamed of hearing for years. A wave of relief rushed through his body as he realized what that meant. Tanner loved him. Oh god, Tanner loved him. He was laughing now too, relishing the release of all the tension. That year when he didn’t speak to Tanner was one of the worst in his life. But now…

“Can I kiss you?” The words fell softly from Eric’s lips, less of a question and more of a plea. Wordlessly, Tanner nodded as he leaned in.

By all counts, the kiss was awkward. Eric had to balance on his toes while Tanner hunched slightly. The morning air whipped the exhaust fumes around them as busses honked and cars screeched. Eric was sure he looked like shit, considering he had literally rolled out of bed to get Tanner to the airport on time for his early flight. But it was heaven.

No, it was more than heaven. Kissing Tanner was like life. It was the air he breathed and the ground he walked on. It was the sweetness of an apple and the heat of a pepper. It was the rush of adrenaline that lets you know you’re alive. It was everything and more.

After a blissful eternity, they broke a part.

“Wow.” Was all Eric managed to say.

“Wow indeed,” Tanner smirked. The pair of them stood there a little while longer, holding each other and desperate to not let go. They might have stayed there forever if it weren’t for the security guard politely but impatiently telling Eric he had to move his car.

“Do you still have to go?” Eric mumbled, burying his face in the crook of Tanner’s neck. He smelled faintly of vanilla and firewood.

“I’m sorry.” Tanner sighed. “There’s some work being done at the house. And Red Bull only paid for the one night.”

“Damn Red Bull. Too cheap to pay for two nights for the famous Smallant, huh?” Eric laughed. “You could stay at my place, though.”

“I… I really have to get back.” Tanner shook his head. “It’s not that I don’t want to. It’s just… there’s a lot going on. Adult stuff.”

“Boooo adult stuff.” Eric groaned. “I just-I just wish you could stay longer.” It was embarrassing, how strong the need he felt to be with Tanner was. The need to hold him and never let go.

“I know. Trust me, I don’t want to go either. But… I’ll call you. Every day, until I can come back here.” “Every day.” Eric repeated. “You must promise call me every day. For at least an hour. Even if we’re not talking. Just to hang out. You’re gonna be so sick of me.” Eric laughed.

“Sick of you? Never.” Tanner chuckled. “But I promise. And I swear I’ll try to come back here as soon as possible. It just might take a bit.” They stayed there for just a second longer before the guard told Eric, less politely this time, that he had to move.

“Okay. Okay. You’re gonna be late for your flight.” Eric exhaled, pulling back from their embrace. “Text me when you land, okay?” They were both trying not to cry again, and Eric just wanted to get the hard part out of the way.

“I’ll text you. And call you, just like we said.” Tanner said as he grabbed his bags before leaning in for a final kiss. “Goodbye.”

“See you soon,” Eric corrected. “Not goodbye.”

“Right.” Tanner smiled. “See you soon.” And then he was gone.

Eric was crying again, but these were good tears. Happy tears. Everything had gone well. Perfectly, even. Tanner loved him. And it really wasn’t goodbye. It was just the beginning of their story.

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

hope you liked it!

#fanfic #fanfiction #smallcrow

2 notes · View notes

fishcowwrites · 8 months ago

Text

Nothing In Between

A Smallcrow Parkour Civilization AU

2.8k words cross posted on ao3 under cut

TW: broken bones, mentions of blood n vomit

i have no idea how broken bones work so bear with me here.

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

Three discs down, one to go. And there was a lot on Eric’s mind. Was that parkour fighter really telling the truth? Was Tanner plotting against him the entire time? To be honest, he should have expected this. After all, Tanner had worked for the lab that ruled Parkour Civilization. But it hurt more than it should, realizing he was lied to. Partially because he should have known better, but partially because some part of him had grown to like Tanner, despite how he was constantly mocked by him. But ultimately, all Eric could do was play along, get the next compass, and keep parkouring.

Speaking of parkour, Eric really should have been paying more attention to his jumps. He had already passed the parkour checkpoint and could see the house that Tanner was in. But in his anxiousness to question him, Eric had miscalculated and jumped too far to the side.

Time seemed to slow as he willed his body to twist toward the block and then – CRACK!

There was a sickening crunch as his ankle bent at an unnatural angle, hands clawing at grass as he screamed. Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit. If any fighters were around, they had surely heard him. There was no way he could do a parkour battle like this. But even if no one came, there was still the issue of getting back to the house. But, y’know, maybe his ankle wasn’t that bad!

Slowly, he shifted on the grass block to sit as comfortably as he could and looked down. Almost instantly, he had to twist around and flop onto his stomach as he coughed up bile and acid into the void. Eric didn’t know much about science or anatomy, but he was certain that his ankle wasn’t supposed to look like that. He dug his fingers into the grass, forcing his breathing to slow down.

Think. Think. Think, Eric. You’re the parkour champion. You’ve come this far. You can make it back. Slowly, he got to his knees, gasping slightly as he jostled his bad leg. Ok. Ok, that wasn’t horrible. Now for the next step… Eric gritted his teeth as one, two, three! He forced himself to stand, biting his tongue so hard that he drew blood. Coooooool coolcoolcoolcoolcool. Great. We’re good, we are SO good.

Eric was standing, but now what? If it had all been one block jumps, he might have been able to drag himself from block to block. But theses were three block jumps. He had no chance. No blocks, either. Should he risk calling out again for Tanner? No, no. That was a bad idea. Tanner probably wouldn’t hear him, and it might attract parkour fighters. No, he would have to do this the hard way.

Looking down, Eric realized his hands were bleeding again. His normal fingerless gloves were left in a drawer at home, maybe on a table, or perhaps even scattered on the floor. He had a bad habit of forgetting where he put things. But this time, it had a cost. The crystals had shredded his hands, far worse than the splinters he normally had to deal with. Using his teeth, he ripped off part of his sleeve, managing to create a wrap for one of his hands. Satisfied with his work, he did the same thing with the other. That was one problem taken care of, but now what?

Carefully, Eric unraveled his headband and tied it lower on his face, putting the knot in his mouth to create a sort of gag. There. He wouldn’t have to bite his tongue anymore, and hopefully it would muffle his screams. He was so close to the house, he just had to make it a little further like this. Well, it’s now or never.

Shifting his weight to his good leg, he backed up to the edge of the block and sprinted. BAM! Eric’s feet hit solid ground; his shriek of pain choked by the cloth in his mouth. He almost blacked out, but by some miracle he remained standing. Parkour God, save me, he prayed, as he readied himself for the next jump.

The next 20 minutes of Eric’s life were brutal. With each launch and each landing, it felt like Eric was shattering his bones into smaller and smaller fragments. Hell, he wasn’t a doctor, so for all he knew, he really was. It was as if his leg was being dipped into the parkour prison lava over and over again. So, to say the least, he was NOT having fun. Time seemed agonizingly slow as his muscles trembled and ached, screaming with ever jump.

Realistically, if he had called out, Tanner probably would have heard him. But his pride and stubbornness kept Eric silent as he collapsed through the entrance to the house. Inside was slightly better, as the floor was solid, save for the three-block gap in the middle. But Tanner was on the second floor, which meant Eric had to brave the stairs.

The stairs were all one block vertical jumps. Shouldn’t be too hard, right? WRONG. It took another seven minutes of literal blood, sweat, and tears before he made it to the top. Finally, he reached the top, where he was greeted by one last three block jump. But on the other side, he could see Tanner, facing away from him as he rummaged through a chest. But he didn’t need to make that jump, did he? He could just, y’know, talk to him from across the gap! He wouldn’t have to know anything was wrong.

Eric leaned against the wall as he undid the knot on his headband/gag and retied it back into his hair, trying to ignore the blood and spittle soaked deep into it. He smoothed down his hoodie, taking a deep breath as he tried to look as nonchalant as possible.

“Heeeeeeeeey, Tanner! Got the third disc, the, uh, crystal one.” Trembling hands pulled the disc out of his inventory and held it up. “So, uh, I meant to ask you-” Eric shifted slightly but accidentally leaned on his bad leg, crumpling to the ground as it sent white hot streaks of pain shooting up his leg. He yelped as the taste of blood filled his mouth, teeth grinding into raw flesh. When he managed to open his eyes, he saw Tanner in front of him, propping him up with an expression somewhere between concern and annoyance.

“You look like shit. What happened to you?” Eric blinked at him, swaying in and out of consciousness. Tanner’s words were like smoke drifting through his head, escaping Eric before he could make sense of them. “-ic? Eric? Come on, don’t you dare pass-”

When Eric came to, something was off. The pristine white concrete ceiling he was accustomed to was instead a crumbling, sandy brick. The sheets under him were rough, a far cry from the silken texture he had come to know. And then the pain kicked in. Sharp and agonizing, he tried to call out, but it was as if his throat was glued together. But before he could panic, a face floated in through the edges of his vision. It was Tanner.

“You’re a fucking idiot. You know that, right?” Eric tried to protest, but Tanner just shushed him with a smirk. “Go back to sleep. I can yell you later.” A glass vial was tilted into Eric’s mouth, the contents of which he obidently swallowed. Immediately, an odd warmth spread through his body, easing the pain and dulling his senses until sleep claimed him once again.

When Eric woke up again, it was dark outside. The pain in his ankle had subsided into a dull throbbing, and the fog in his head had cleared slightly. Turning to his left, Eric saw Tanner hunched over a brewing stand. “Tanner?” he called out. Immediately Tanner turned to face Eric, his expression unreadable.

“You’re awake. That’s… good.” Tanner said, fiddling with an empty potion bottle. He looked like he wanted to say something else, but his stopwatch cut him off. Carefully, he removed a freshly brewed potion from the stand and put the empty bottle in its place.

“Here. Drink it.” He handed it to Eric, not quite meeting his gaze as he turned back to the brewing stand. The potion was bright red, almost pink, and seemed to glow slightly as Eric swirled it around in the bottle.

“Hey, uh, what is this?” Eric said, looking back up at Tanner. “Healing potion. Don’t worry, I’m not trying to poison you.” He replied, still focused on stand.

A healing potion. Huh. Eric hadn’t even heard of those until he got to the master level, but even then, only the richest parkour masters had them. Plus, the art of brewing potions was considered almost lost. No one that Eric knew even had a brewing stand, except for, well, Tanner.

The parkour fighter’s words rang in his head as Eric carefully uncorked the bottle.

You think it’s a coincidence he has those compasses? Why don’t you ask him where he got them?

But if Tanner was using him, then why would he try to kill him before he got all the discs? Why wouldn’t he just have done it when Eric was passed out? But the pain in his leg was slowly swelling, so before he could change his mind, he took sip.

It tasted vaguely sweet, reminiscent of some fruit he couldn’t name. He had braced himself for a poison effect, but instead, that strange warm and tingly feeling washed over him, putting his whole being at ease. Rather quickly, Eric had drained the whole potion, wiping his mouth as he set the bottle down with a clink. Drowsiness seemed to be crawling in from all angles, and at last he yielded, quickly falling into dreamless sleep.

The pattern continued for what seemed like ages: wake up, take a potion, go to sleep. One time, he even thought he heard Tanner singing softly. But when he saw Eric had woken up, he had stopped abruptly.

This, Eric woke up to silence. It was dark outside again, and Tanner seemed to be sleeping as well. He was propped up against the wall, his face illuminated in moonlight. Despite himself, Eric thought that he might be the most beautiful thing right then. Eventually, Tanner woke up as well, stretching as he stood up.

“Come on,” Tanner said, extending his hand to a very confused looking Eric.

“Come on, what?” he asked. Tanner looked rather uncomfortable as he shifted back and forth, avoiding eye contact.

“Figured you were tired of being cooped up in here.” Tanner shrugged. “The stars are really nice out here.” Eric didn’t know how he knew, but he was right. He hated not being able to move around freely. It was like all his energy was coiled into springs, waiting to be released.

Carefully, Eric got up, making sure to ignore the offer of help in favor of doing it on his own. He steadied himself against the wall, staring expectantly. If his refusal had hurt Tanner, he didn’t show it. Instead, he just motioned for Eric to follow as he stepped out onto the open walkway. Slowly, Eric limped after him. He sat down beside him, their legs dangling over the edge.

The two of them sat there for a while, staring up at the twinkling stars above them. Eric had always dreamed of seeing the stars, but dirt ceilings were all he had until he became a master. But then he had been too busy trying to save parkour civilization. Now nothing was stopping him. Hundreds of thousands of tiny white pinpoints filled the ink black sky, creating a pattern of light amongst the sea of darkness. One large star flew across the sky, leaving behind a trail of stardust. Eric gasped softly at it.

“That’s a shooting star,” Tanner said with a slight smile. “It’s really just a comet, but that’s what people call it. You’re supposed to make a wish when you see one.”

“What did you wish for, then?” Eric asked. Tanner just laughed softly.

“You’re not supposed to tell somebody, or it won’t come true.” Eric shivered in the night breeze, catching Tanner’s eye.

“Are you cold? Hold on.” Tanner ducked back into the house and emerged after a second, holding a bundle of clothes which he tossed at Eric. “I don’t want you getting sick on top of all of this. We’ve already had a large enough set back as it is.”

Eric dutifully started getting changed, stripping his dirty hoodie off in favor of the new clothes. But before he could finish dressed, he saw Tanner frozen in shock. Quickly, he pulled on the clean top and stood as fast as he could.

“Tanner? Hey, Tanner?”

The room was bright white, full of masked men surrounding the operating table. A man lay face down on the table with a gorgeous, massive pair of jet-black wings sprouted from the his back. Tanner approached the table nervously.

“Subject 0121, white male, 21 years old. Standard wing removal. I’ll be here in case something goes wrong, but this is your solo procedure, Doctor Ant. A test to see how you’ll do in the future. Don’t disappoint me.”

d̷̡̻͚̩̣̰͗̅̎̽̀́̕s̸̢̪̻̓̀̕̕̕d̸̡̟̥̝̲̏ć̸̫̱̳̲͖̄̍͐H̵̫̖͔̞͌͋̉̇Ę̷͎̰̜̎̍̇̎̈́̚L̴̗̫̻̫̻̤̉̐̋̋̏̓P̶̥͘̚f̶͓̊̓͝s̷͖̣̳̪̘̬̾͑̄d̵̼̙̔̄m̴̩͎͕͎̍̌͛́͝Ḿ̴̧̘͊̇̂͑͝E̴͓͚͋̒̽͋̓͝͝s̵̞͚͔͕͔͚̲̃̓̐͠͝f̸̯̥̪̦͈̫͓̀ă̸̺͖̻̗͕͚d̷̜̥͚͉̃̽̕͘͝n̴͙͈̹̽ͅ

He had done it, or at least he thought he had. The beautiful wings had been removed, with two long lines of stitches in their place. A wave of relief washed over Tanner.

g̴͎̻̱͍̗͎̈̍ͅn̵͎͋͋͛́͌͗̽G̵͉͚̦̳͔̺̊͒̿̄͑E̷͍̯̖̬̟̎T̸͇͍̬͈͈͐̋̎́e̶̪͍̎̾͘͘͜ͅf̸̡̞̜̞̞̒͛͆̚ṡ̶͎̠̔̔̌e̴̡̦̖̺͇̪̯̋͊̓͋͘M̵̧͍̺̆Ë̶͈́͒̃͒p̸͔̰̠̰̦̤̓̅̇̓͘s̵̤̆ä̶̢͍̩͇́O̷͎͈̻̟̓̄͗͒̂͝U̷͙̠̝͖̣̎͒͆̉͘̚T̸̠̦͓̠̗̻̾̐͗́́͐͘w̴̛̞͚̖̤̠ͅf̴͖͖̘̤͆͗̉͊͊̇̚a̶̲͘

Blood was spurting everyway. The man on the table was screaming. Red flashing lights filled the room. A heavy hand landed on Tanner’s shoulder, pulling him backwards.

“That’s enough, now.”

ã̶͔͙͎̮͈͝d̵̹͆̍s̵̱̤͒̈́̈́̚o̴͕̫͎͒͛͐͜͝ī̴͓̼̻̭͒̚S̸̤͖̾̂̀̀̓͝T̴͍͕̄̍͜͠Ó̴̬̺͇͕̔͝͝P̴̨̠͎͙̞͇̫̑̿̈́ä̶̡́̂s̶̡̤̲͎̬̩̱̅̕f̶̺̲̭̳̰̖͉̒̏́̆̚̚͝s̷̮̱͉̘̰̳̖͂͒̈́͑̏̆̀w̷͎̬̎̎͋͋͛̕é̸̩̻͇̣͇͍͚̋͘

Everything went black.

“Tanner? Hey, Tanner?” Tanner's head shot up. Eric 0̶̛͉́̄̐͂͛̂̒̍̐̀̉̈́̍̕1̸̡̦̬̩̮͔̘̥̭͕̈͆͜͠2̸̭̟̪͎͕͎̿̄̈́́̇́͋́̇͒̕̕͜1̷̜̲͇̰͍̄́̆̾̚ was in his face, staring at him. “You alright, dude?”

Tanner's heart was pounding in his ears. He knew memory wipes were a thing, and he knew there were false memories. But Tanner was sure that what he just saw was real. Seeing certain things could trigger memories to come back, and the two jagged scar lines on Eric’s back certainly seemed to have done that. But that would mean-

No. He wouldn’t have. He couldn’t have. But at the same time, it made sense. Why wouldn’t Eric have been one of his “patients”? He even remembered giving him the false memory. But why did this hurt so much now? Maybe because, despite his best efforts, he liked Eric. How, he didn’t know. But Eric meant something to him in some indescribable way that made knowing the pain he caused so much worse. With each passing day, Tanner thanked god that he wouldn’t be the one to kill Eric in the end.

“Tanner? Come on, man. You there?” Tanner exhaled slowly, trying to ground himself. “Yeah! Yeah. Sorry. Just… zoned out. It’s been a long few days.”

Satisfied, Eric sat back down, patting the cold stone next to him. Tanner stayed standing.

“Hey, uh, weird question. Where’d you get those scars on your back?” Tanner asked. Eric looked mildly surprised, but thankfully not offended or annoyed.

“I don’t know, I guess. They’ve been there as long as I can remember. They don’t seem like birthmarks, though. Why do you ask?”

“Just curious, I suppose.” Tanner shrugged, taking up the offer to sit by Eric’s side. He felt a little more at peace, just by knowing that Eric didn’t remember all the pain he caused him.

But his plan was still in place, and he needed it to happen. He couldn’t think about what would happen to Eric. He had to focus on his mom, his dad, his little sister, his best friend, and everyone else who was wiped out by the Old Man. No amount of shooting stars could change what had to be done.

The two of them sat in silence for a while longer, until Eric turned to him. “What did you wish for with that star?” Tanner just shook his head.

I wished to have more time with you, Tanner thought. I wished for you to know that I really do like you. But he couldn’t say that.

“I already said I won’t tell you.” Tanner rolled his eyes, pretending not to care.

“Come on. You’ve gotta be tired of keeping secrets at some point, right?” Eric reasoned.

You don’t know the half of it, Tanner thought. Still, he had to say something. But before he could think of what to say, he heard a gentle snore. Eric had fallen asleep.

Carefully, Tanner picked him up, bringing him inside the house. He set him down on the makeshift bed and carefully lifted the blankets over him. Tanner sat in his usual spot against the wall and watched Eric. He looked so peaceful, just lying there. And for a moment, Tanner let himself pretend like everything was fine.

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

hope you liked this :)

#fanfic #fanfiction #writing #smallcrow

1 note · View note

fishcowwrites · 8 months ago

Text

Bathtub - Chapter Two

chapter one

Elder Brian Neeley from The Book of Mormon

Songfic based on Bathtub by The Front Bottoms

Slight Neeley/Davis

WARNINGS: violence, mentions of blood, suicide, death, overdose, self-harm, and some descriptions of such

1.5k Words crossposted on ao3 under cut

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

Screaming. So much screaming. Blood. Blood staining their shirts and their hands and their memories.

Zachary Davis found Brian Neeley dead in the shower. He almost looked like an angel, with a crown of bubbles and blood red ruby bracelets around his wrists. In a twisted way, he was the prettiest thing that Zachary had ever see. There were papers resting on the sink; shaky handwriting spelling out Brian’s final words. Zachary knelt down, gently taking one of Brian’s cold hands into his own.

All the elders had swarmed to the bathroom when they heard Zachary scream. Connor had pushed his way to the front, coming to a stop when he saw Brian. Hurriedly, he tried to block the elders from seeing him, but it was too late.

John caught glimpse and immediately knew what had happened. It was all too familiar, the sight of Brian’s lifeless body. But this time he was too late.

Carefully, Connor picked up the letters. There were a few, three pages total. But before he could read it, John had snatched it from his hands. Connor didn’t fight it. He knew how close the two of them were. John scanned the pages, tears filling his eyes. Screwing his eyes tight, he passed one of the papers to Connor. John tucked the second into his own pocket before offering the last one to Zachary. Wordlessly, he accepted it, still holding Brian’s hand.

Dear Zach,

I’m sorry it ended like this. There were so many things I wanted to tell you. So many things I wanted to do with you. I don’t know how much you know or how much you’ve figured out, but I figured that I need to say it before I go. I love you, Zachary Davis. I’ve loved you ever since those nights we spent together in silence. I wish I could have told you this sooner. I wish I could have told you this face to face. I don’t know if you love me. I wish I could know if you love me. I wish we could have figured things out. I have many regrets, and you are my biggest one. But I can’t keep living like this. I have to leave, and I’m sorry that I’ve left you behind. I know this isn’t fair, and I’m sorry for that as well. If you hate me now, I understand.

Regretfully with love, Brian

Zachary wanted to scream. He wanted to scream so loud that any god left in the cold universe could hear him. But he didn’t. Instead, he sat there as the world spun around him. People were crying and yelling, but he couldn’t hear anything. Gotswana pushed past him; someone must have brought him in. He was trying to move Brian, but Zachary wouldn’t let him. He was clinging to Brian’s hand like it was the only thing keeping it sane. And maybe it was.

It took 3 people to pry him off of the body. The sounds of screaming suddenly filled his ears, and it was only the scratching in his throat that told him that it was coming from him. The sound that had been sucked from the world had come back at full force, assaulting Zachary with noise from all angles.

Chris Thomas was sobbing in a corner. Almost immediately after his sister had died, he had been sent to Uganda. All the elders had worked to help him with his problems, but Brian’s death seemed to have brought back all of his trauma.

James Church sat in the corner with his arms wrapped around Chris, staring at nothing. All the commotion and yelling seemed to have triggered something deep inside him too. He seemed shell-shocked, with his eyes wide as he muttered something unintelligible under his breath.

Samuel Michaels was rocking back and forth in the middle of the common space, almost giggling to himself. He turned desperately towards anyone who passed by, begging for them to tell him that none of it was real. Tears streamed down his face as he banged his hands on the ground, pleading to just wake up from this nightmare.

Shane Zelder was pacing back and forth in the kitchen, demanding answers from the air. He was shouting at Connor, asking how this could have happened. He was shouting at Gotswana, asking why he couldn’t save Brian. He shouted at the other elders, demanding to know how none of them could have realized what was going on. All the questions for himself went unspoken, instead being channelled through his fist and into the wall.

Kevin Price was nowhere to be seen. It wasn’t unreasonable to guess that he had retreated to his room, seeing as how he always went there when things became too much. But everyone could hear his screams, no matter how much he tried to smother them into his pillow.

Arnold Cunningham was wailing on the couch in the common room. Nabulungi tried her best to comfort him, but nothing seemed to be working. Being stuck as a disappointment to his parents, he felt like everything was his fault. And Brian’s death was just another one of his screw-ups.

Connor Mckinley didn’t know what to do. He was supposed to be their leader, the one with all the solutions. But now, he had nothing. Desperately, he tried to find order amidst the chaos. All the elders were gently escorted to their rooms, and Brian’s body was taken to Gotswana’s hut, where it would stay until they could figure out what to do. Connor simply nodded when James quietly asked if he could take Chris to their room. He stood in the common space, trying to hold it together for the sake of the two people left in the room. John and Zachary had both fallen completely silent, with John sitting on and staring at the floor, and Zachary sat on the couch with his head in his hands.

“What do we tell his family?” The question, though whispered, rung through the silent room. Suddenly, a short, harsh, laugh came from John.

“What do you mean, family? He had nobody. Or did you just assume that everyone came from a nice, loving home like you?” Connor shook his head, trying to keep his own tears from spilling.

“I-I don’t-“ John stood up suddenly, pressing into Connor’s space.

“His only ‘family’ was that dick that you all-“ John gestured wildly towards the bedrooms “cussed out a month ago. Yeah,” Connor had opened his mouth, but John cut him off. “That’s right. The mission president. The very same one who excommunicated us.” “I’m-I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I didn’t know any of this. How did I not know any of this?” Tears were now flowing freely down Connor’s face as John rolled his eyes and let out another short bark of laughter.

“Of course you wouldn’t. Why would the famed mission president take ownership of the drunk driver who crashed his car and screwed random girls at parties? No, he was ashamed of Brian. Funny, too, because he was the one who took him in in the first place. Did Brian not tell you that either? He was abandoned by his real. Left in a basket by the church. Taken in by the ever gracious president. And he never let Brian forget it.”

John had pushed Connor up against the wall with tears streaming down both their faces. Zachary sat still on the sofa, seeming to have not heard anything.

“Just forget it. It doesn’t matter anymore.” John mumbled, before quietly retreating to his now-empty room. Connor stood there a while more, crying a little longer before faintly bidding Zachary goodnight as he went back to his room as well, leaving Zachary on his own. He stayed there on that couch through the whole horrible night.

The funeral was a week later. Brian Neeley was buried at the base of a beautiful tree, with a small bed of flowers planted around it. The ceremony was small, with only a few people from the village in addition to the elders. John managed to say a few words before Connor had to take over.

Zachary couldn’t bring himself to attend the funeral, though. It was all too much. Everything felt suffocatingly small but all too big at once. Later that day, he told Connor he was going back home. Or more accurately, going back to the US. Connor tried to stop him, but he wouldn’t listen. He had to leave.

With two members down, District 9 began to crumble. Elder after elder left Uganda, either to return to their families or to try and start a new life on their own.

John was the last to leave. He didn’t want to leave Brian behind. But what could he do? Nothing. But there was nothing he could ever do. That’s why Brian was gone.

As he knelt at his grave one last time, John wondered if Brian would ever find it in his heart to forgive him.

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

finally fucking finished it hooray. hope you enjoyed

#fanfic #fanfiction #book of mormon #tbom #writing

3 notes · View notes

fishcowwrites · 9 months ago

Text

10 Non-Lethal Injuries to Add Pain to Your Writing

New Part: 10 Lethal Injury Ideas

If you need a simple way to make your characters feel pain, here are some ideas:

1. Sprained Ankle

A common injury that can severely limit mobility. This is useful because your characters will have to experience a mild struggle and adapt their plans to their new lack of mobiliy. Perfect to add tension to a chase scene.

2. Rib Contusion

A painful bruise on the ribs can make breathing difficult, helping you sneak in those ragged wheezes during a fight scene. Could also be used for something sport-related! It's impactful enough to leave a lingering pain but not enough to hinder their overall movement.

3. Concussions

This common brain injury can lead to confusion, dizziness, and mood swings, affecting a character’s judgment heavily. It can also cause mild amnesia.

I enjoy using concussions when you need another character to subtly take over the fight/scene, it's an easy way to switch POVs. You could also use it if you need a 'cute' recovery moment with A and B.

4. Fractured Finger

A broken finger can complicate tasks that require fine motor skills. This would be perfect for characters like artists, writers, etc. Or, a fighter who brushes it off as nothing till they try to throw a punch and are hit with pain.

5. Road Rash

Road rash is an abrasion caused by friction. Aka scraping skin. The raw, painful sting resulting from a fall can be a quick but effective way to add pain to your writing. Tip: it's great if you need a mild injury for a child.

6. Shoulder Dislocation

This injury can be excruciating and often leads to an inability to use one arm, forcing characters to confront their limitations while adding urgency to their situation. Good for torture scenes.

7. Deep Laceration

A deep laceration is a cut that requires stitches. As someone who got stitches as a kid, they really aren't that bad! A 2-3 inch wound (in length) provides just enough pain and blood to add that dramatic flair to your writing while not severely deterring your character.

This is also a great wound to look back on since it often scars. Note: the deeper and wider the cut the worse your character's condition. Don't give them a 5 inch deep gash and call that mild.

8. Burns

Whether from fire, chemicals, or hot surfaces, burns can cause intense suffering and lingering trauma. Like the previous injury, the lasting physical and emotional trauma of a burn is a great wound for characters to look back on.

If you want to explore writing burns, read here.

9. Pulled Muscle

This can create ongoing pain and restrict movement, offering a window to force your character to lean on another. Note: I personally use muscle related injuries when I want to focus more on the pain and sprains to focus on a lack of mobility.

10. Tendonitis

Inflammation of a tendon can cause chronic pain and limit a character's ability to perform tasks they usually take for granted. When exploring tendonitis make sure you research well as this can easily turn into a more severe injury.

This is a quick, brief list of ideas to provide writers inspiration. Since it is a shorter blog, I have not covered the injuries in detail. This is inspiration, not a thorough guide. Happy writing! :)

Looking For More Writing Tips And Tricks?

Check out the rest of Quillology with Haya; a blog dedicated to writing and publishing tips for authors!

Instagram Tiktok

65K notes · View notes

fishcowwrites · 10 months ago

Text

Four Corners - Chapter Two

Newsies x The Maze Runner x The Outsiders x The Book of Mormon

911 words cross posted on ao3 under cut

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

It was like nothing they had ever seen. And judging from the noise earlier that morning, it was like nothing that any of the other groups had seen either. The lodging house, the homestead, the district 9 headquarters, and the Curtis family home had all fused together, creating a square abomination of architecture. The huge building was placed on a huge square of grass that seemed to spread infinitely outwards. A large lake sat at the southern corner, while grove of trees adorned the northern tip. The eastern point was crowned with mountains and the western point dipped down into a valley, all of this with no end in sight.

Introductions happened quickly, with each group designating a leader. Jack was used to leading the newsies and stepped up quickly, though not without exchanging a few glances with Davey and a taking punch from Spot.

Thomas was new to the whole “leader” thing, but Minho practically shoved him forward as Newt nodded in assurance, pursing his lips. He tried to claim that Newt would be better, or maybe Minho, but the rest of the Gladers wouldn’t hear any of it.

There wasn’t really any discussion amongst the greasers as Dally moved forward. He didn’t even say much, just muttered his name as he looked around the room at all the unfamiliar faces.

Conner had been the district leader back in Uganda, but now he wasn’t so sure of his position. Kevin had really taken charge after the whole “Book of Arnold” disaster, but with Poptarts beaming at him, he couldn’t really say no.

The four of them moved to a side room to discuss their current situation, where it became quickly apparent that none of them knew what to do. It wasn’t like this was something that happened on a daily basis. Running out of snacks in the mission kitchen or getting a D on a math quiz was nothing compared to teleportation, and apparently, time travel.

Connor could tell something was off in the way everyone spoke. It wasn’t just accents or something regional, no, this was a difference not from distance. Tentatively, he spoke up.

“I know this might sound really stupid, or really weird, but what year do you think it?” Instantly, three pairs of eyes locked onto him. Hesitantly, Jack scoffed.

“What kinda question is that? 1899.” Oh God. The whole situation had thrown Connor so off balance that he barely noticed his own use of the Lord’s name.

“That’s-no, that’s not right. It’s 2011.” Connor shook his head, starting to panic. He wished Kevin were here. Kevin always knew how to calm him down. He took deep breaths, trying to remember what Kevin had taught him.

“Are you both insane? It’s 1967. Thomas, back me up here.” Dally was looking at Connor and Jack like they had turned into bananas with three eyes. Thomas stayed silent, his brow furrowed as he looked back and forth between them all. Finally, he spoke.

“I don’t know, I guess. We barely have a concept of time in the maze. Any of you could be right.” Jack tilted his head, not quite following.

“But what about before you was in this-this maze thing? You wasn’t born there, right?” Dally and Connor both murmured their assent, looking at Thomas expectantly. He had fallen silent again, biting his lip as he frowned.

“No. There was a group of them, and they all woke up in the maze one day, no memories. The rest came up one by one. None of us know why, or how, or anything really. Just that we had to survive and escape.” He seemed so lost in thought that Connor felt he needed to say something just to break the tension. Clearing his throat awkwardly, he spoke up.

“Speaking of survival, how are we supposed to do that? What do we do about food?” Connor was no stranger to the creeping fear of hunger. When they were still in the church, there were times when pests got into the food, or a crisis came up long before their monthly shipments. And after they got excommunicated, their little amount of money got stretched tighter than they ever thought it could while they worked towards getting back to America. But they always had the villagers helping them. Here, wherever they were, they had nothing.

Connor must have zoned out, because the others were all staring at him as if expecting him to say something. “What? Sorry, I just-” His words died in his throat as he crumpled under the weight of Dally’s gaze.

“He-” Dally cocked his head at Thomas “Just asked how we should tell them our plan. Separate to our own guys, or all together. We wanted your input, but it seems you’ve been lost in that pretty little head of yours.”

“NO!” Connor spluttered. “I mean, no, I was listening, I just, that sounds good! Maybe all together, to, y’know, show unity, or, uh, like show we’re working together! And the plan? Oh, the plan is great. Great plan. Love it. I think it’s-” Jack held up his hand to stop Connor’s rambling.

“Ok. Ok. We should get back to the group before Spot starts a fight with someone. Ready?” Thomas nodded, and after a moment, Dally did too. All eyes were on Connor again, who was trying not to hyperventilate. He took a deep breath, his nails digging into the old scars on his hands.

“Ready.”

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

once again brought to you by Way Down We Go by KALEO and also Austin McKenzie and Sean Grandillo's cover of Thinkin Bout You cus its really good

#newsies #the maze runner #tmr #the outsiders #book of mormon #tbom #fanfic #fanfiction #four corners au

7 notes · View notes

fishcowwrites · 11 months ago

Text

A New Game - Chapter One

Panic/Newsies/Spring Awakening/The Outsiders shitshow

169 words (nice) crossposted on ao3 under cut

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

“Remember the good old days?” Dodge tossed an apple from hand to hand as he and Ray walked towards their dorm.

“You mean the shitty math classes or the wack-ass jobs we took for weed money?” Ray laughed, recalling their awful lives back in Carp.

“I mean panic.” Ray stopped in his tracks, snatching Dodge’s apple out of the air.

“Panic? Like panic-panic? Like the panic that almost killed all of us? With the bombs and tigers? Ray scoffed, baffled by the prospect of missing panic. Dodge simply plucked his apple out Ray’s hand, taking a bite of his apple as he walked.

“Not the dying part, y’know. But the fun, yeah? It was something finally worth talking about. Something that made me feel alive.” Ray gave him an odd look.

“Whatever man. What do you want to do about it? Jump off some more cliffs this summer?” They stopped as they reached the doors, Dodge pulling his keycard out as he grinned at Ray.

“I have an idea.”

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

???? i have no clue what im doing

#fanfic #fanfiction

4 notes · View notes

fishcowwrites · 11 months ago

Text

Unbelievable self-indulgence, but here’s a Falsettos themed prompt list for this coming October :D

Anyone who wants, please do participate and tag me in your art! otherwise, why not observe as I go insane over this musical

#might do this for fanfic

203 notes · View notes

fishcowwrites · 11 months ago

Text

How I Meant No Harm - Chapter One

An Illinoise AU based on (majority of dialogue from) an rp that me @gardenoflilys and @orangesand-lemons-234 have

446 words cross posted on ao3 undercut

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

It took Carl and Henry five days to go from their hometown of Decatur to the grand city of New York. Five beautiful, glorious days. They probably could have been faster, but they wanted to see every sight, no matter how small or silly.

“Hey, I should probably call Shelby, you know. See how she’s doing and all.” Carl, in his excitement to talk to his girlfriend, didn’t seem to notice the drop in Henry’s expression. “Yeah, go for it!” Henry feigned excitement, waiting for Carl to turn around before closing his eyes and sighing in defeat. He hadn’t even noticed he was walking until he ran into someone.

“Shit-“ Henry quickly bent down the help pick up the papers that the other man had dropped. “I am so sorry, I should’ve been looking, it’s my fault. Let me-“

“Hey, it’s okay.” Henry stilled as he looked up at the stranger, and then almost fell over again as he locked eyes with the other man. He might have been the most beautiful man Henry had ever seen (beside Carl).

“Are you okay? Seemed like you fell pretty hard.” Handsome and kind.

“Not as hard as I just fell for you.” The words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them, clamping his hand over his mouth in a futile attempt to shut himself up. Thankfully, the stranger just laughed.

“Don’t think I’ve seen you around before. I think I’d remember seeing a cute guy like you. I’m Douglas.” Douglas extended a hand, which Henry anxiously shook. He just knew he was blushing furiously but tried his best to play it off had he helped Douglas gather his papers.

“Yeah, me and a friend are on a road trip. We’ve always wanted to see the city, so. Oh, I’m Henry.” Douglas smiled as he tucked his papers back inside his bag.

“Well, Henry, it was nice to meet you.” He pulled out a card and handed it to Henry. “If you’re ever in the city again.” And with a wink, Douglas disappeared off to wherever they kept attractive, enigmatic strangers.

Turning the card over in his hand, Henry saw what it was. A business card, with a personal cell on the back. The little shit, Henry thought with a grin. With a start, he realized Carl was probably looking for him. He ran back to where they were with a smile on his face, eager to tell Carl about what had happened. But when he got there, something was wrong. Carl was- was he crying? Something was very wrong, he just knew it. With a growing sense of dread, Henry approached him.

“Carl, what happened?”

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

ohboyohboyohboy i have no clue what i'm doing

#illinoise #fanfic #fanfiction #writing #someone take ms word away from me

9 notes · View notes

fishcowwrites · 11 months ago

Text

In The Stars - RedFinch Military AU

Albert DaSilva x Finch Cortes from Newsies

2.5k words cross posted on ao3 under cut

Title from the song by Benson Boone which was on repeat as I wrote this to establish ✨vibes✨

Any inaccuracies regarding military death notifications can be taken up with Fort Lee Casualty Assistance Center Casualty Notification Guide for the Casualty Notification Officer pdf from 2013 that I found online.

TW: major character death, mentions of vomiting (non graphic), mentions of self harm (not really graphic)

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

When Albert was deployed, Finch was distraught. He didn’t want his husband to leave him, let alone leave their daughter.

“It’s just ten months. Not even a year. I’ll be back before you know.” They were both trying not to cry for the sake of Lily, who was not quite old enough to understand what was happening but not young enough to be ignorant of it all.

“Papa, what’s happening?” Albert knelt down next to her, gently taking her hands.

“I have to go, lilybug. Just for a little bit. Not a long time. I’m coming back soon, ok? Be good for your daddy.” Albert scooped her up, passing her into Finch’s arms. He hugged the two of them, then leaned in for one final kiss. “I’ll see you soon, I promise. Just ten months, yeah?” he spoke quietly, pressing his forehead against his husband’s. Finch nodded, choking back his tears.

“Just ten months.”

Then Albert was leaving, and Lily was crying, and maybe Finch was crying too, but he couldn’t tell. The rest of the day was a blur. The two of them headed back home, where Race and JoJo were waiting. JoJo took a now sleeping Lily to her bed while Race got some water for Finch.

“What if he doesn’t come back? What if I never see him again? What would I tell Lily?” Finch was hyperventilating, his hands shaking as he sobbed. Slowly, Race turned Finch towards him.

“Look at me. Look at me, Finch. Albert will be okay. It’s just ten months. He’ll be fine. I promise.” Race tilted Finch’s head up, nodding with what he hoped was a comforting smile. “Albert will be back before you know it.”

Those were the words that ran through his head when a soldier showed up at his door 7 months later.

“Daddy?” Lily called out. “There’s a man at the door.” Finch ran to the front hall.

“Lilybug, what did I tell you about answering the door? You gotta-“ He froze, taking in the crisp uniform and the stoic expression of the man who wore it. “Can I help you?” The man pursed his lips. “Are you Patrick DaSilva-Cortes?” Slowly, Finch picked up Lily, trying his best to ignore the dread creeping into his bones.

“Yeah, can I help you?”

“I am Captain Sam Robinson from Company A, 2nd Battalion, 21st Ordnance, from Stuttgart, Germany. I have an important message to deliver from the Secretary of the Army. May I come in, Mr. DaSilva-Cortes?"

Finch knew exactly what was happening. He had imagined it in his head over and over, and all the ways it could go, but nothing could’ve prepared him for the shock. It felt like he was drowning, with muffled sound and no air. All he could do was nod.

The captain stepped aside, revealing a younger man dressed in a slightly different uniform.

“This is Chaplain Steve Lewis. Is there somewhere we can sit down to talk?”

Wordlessly, Finch led them the living room, clutching Lily tightly. He moved to sit on the couch before stopping to look at the captain.

“What,” Finch closed his eyes, willing himself to stay composed. “What do I do with Lily? She can’t-“ he stopped as she looked up at him, eyes wide.

At barely three, Lily Patricia DaSilva-Cortes was shaping up to be sharper than both of her fathers. She had Albert’s flaming red hair and Finch’s love for music, as well as the penchant for mischief that both men shared. And above all, he loved her with his whole heart. How could he make her leave now?

“It’s nothing, darling. I’m staying with you.” He sat down, gesturing for the two men to do so as well. Carefully, he did his best to cover Lily’s ears before nodding for them to start.

The older one cleared his throat, looking Finch straight in the eye.

"The Secretary of the Army has asked me to express his deep regret that your husband Albert died in Germany on October 19th. His truck crashed in an accident. The Secretary extends his deepest sympathy to you and your family in your tragic loss."

That was it. Those were the words that Finch had been dreading ever since he knew Albert was going to leave. Those were the words that haunted him every day and every night as he prayed he would never have to hear them. And those were the words being said to him in the house he had built with Albert, holding the daughter they had raised together. The man was saying something that Finch couldn’t quite make out, but this couldn’t be real, it couldn’t be real, it can’t be real, and-

Finch felt something. Two tiny hands reaching for his shaking ones. That brought him back to the moment.

“Daddy, what’s this man saying? What happened? What’s happening?” Lily was on the verge of tears, her childish mind trying to find reason in the unreasonable.

“Nothing’s happened, dear. Nothing’s happened.” Finch wanted to just close his eyes and wake up from this nightmare, but he couldn’t. Not when the nightmare was simply reality.

“Why are you crying then?” She was too smart for her own good, really. He didn’t know what to say. How could he tell her?

“Sir, is there someone I can call?” The man was talking to him again. At least this was a question he could answer. Finch nodded, reaching for his phone. His contacts. Albert’s name stood there at the top, but he ignored it. Anthony Higgins. Call. There must’ve been some mercy left in the universe, as he picked up quickly.

“Yeah, Finch?”

Oh god. Race was Albert’s closest friend.

“Hello?”

What could he say? What could he possibly say in this moment?

“Are you there?”

Finally, Finch found his voice.

“I need you. At the house. JoJo too. It’s an-“ His voice caught on the last word. “It’s an emergency.”

Race must have sensed the tone of his voice, because he could immediately hear action on the other side of the phone.

“Shit, yeah. Are you okay? Is Lily okay?”

Finch nodded for a bit, until he remembered Race couldn’t see him.

“Yeah. Yeah. But, um,” Breaths. Deep breaths. He could do this. “Please hurry.” Finch could here Race calling for JoJo; they must have been at their place. He heard the rustle of their shoes, the click of the door, the beep of the car.

“The GPS says 10 minutes. Are you fine? Do we need to call someone?” Why was breathing so hard? Why couldn’t he breathe? It was Lily’s touch that kept him grounded, at least momentarily.

“No, no, 10 minutes is fine. You don’t need to call anyone. See you then.” He hung up quickly. He didn’t know how much longer he could’ve held on. Finch looked up at the man desperately, unsure of what to say next. Thankfully, he spoke up.

“We can stay with you until they arrive.” Finch nodded gratefully, running one hand through his daughter’s hair. He held her close, praying to whatever god was left that Race and JoJo would show up soon.

When they knocked on the door, the other man stood up to get it. He led Race and JoJo to where Finch and Lily were sitting. Finch could see them putting the pieces together and the shock of realization that flashed across their faces. They both turned towards the captain, gripping each other’s hands tightly. Race spoke first.

“Is Albert-“ He shook his head, unable to say those horrible words. JoJo stepped forward, holding onto Race like he was a lifeline.

“What happened?” The man turned towards Finch, seemingly asking for permission. Finch nodded, unable to see how he could tell them himself.

“The Secretary of the Army has asked me to express his deep regret that Albert died in Germany on October 19th. His truck crashed in an accident. The Secretary extends his deepest sympathy to you and your family in your tragic loss.”

Race’s mouth dropped open in horror as JoJo reached back to steady him. Carefully, he sat Race down next to Finch and took Lily out of Finch’s arms.

“Thank you…”

“Captain.”

“Well, thank you captain. Do you need anything else?” JoJo’s voice was carefully measured as he reached out to shake the man’s hand. The man turned back towards Finch, taking out a clipboard and a pen.

“Once again, you are Patrick DaSilva-Cortes?” Finch nodded numbly; he knew that this man had business he needed to do.

“This is your place of residence and your mailing address?

Another nod. Another scribble on the clipboard.

“And you phone number is xxx-xxx-xxxx?”

Finch nodded again, now desperate for the man to leave. He had put the clipboard away and taken out a paper, which he handed to Finch.

“That paper has more information, as well as the contact information for your casualty area command. A casualty assistance officer will contact you sometime in the next 24 hours to arrange another visit. Please do not make arrangements for his remains until you have been fully briefed by them.”

Casualty. Remains. All words that now described his Albert. The man stood up from his chair, taking a deep breath before addressing Finch one final time.

“Mr. DaSilva-Cortes, I must be returning to Stuttgart. Again, on behalf of the Secretary of the Army, please accept the United States Army's deepest condolences.”

Then he walked out the door, the other one trailing behind. Everything was silent. Silence. Finch hated silence. Albert always knew what to say. But Albert was gone.

Albert was gone.

“I’m just gonna, y’know.” JoJo looked calm somehow, still holding Lily. He went off to put her down.

“Finch, god, I don’t-“ Race’s mouth hung agape as he tried to find the right words, but Finch couldn’t stand it anymore.

“Albert will be okay. It’s just ten months. He will be fine. You promised me, Race! You promised he would be fine! You promised-“ Finch gasped before running into the bathroom, barely making it as he collapsed in front of the toilet. Race was on his tail, slamming against the door frame as he ran towards Finch.

“Shit shit shit shit shit. Do I need to call-Do I need to see if I can get that guy back here? Do you need like an ambulance?” Race was crying now, but his worry for Finch overtook anything else he was feeling. “I need Albert. I need Albert. I need Albert. I need-“ Finch was cut off by another round of violent heaving, gasping for air all the while. He couldn’t take it anymore. His skin felt too tight on his body, restricting his movement and not letting him breathe. He needed to tear it off, tear it off, tear IT-

Race’s hands covered his own, refusing to let him harm himself. “I’m calling someone, okay? JoJo has Lily, they’ll be fine together. This time I promise. I’m sorry I can’t-I just can’t.”

Race stepped out of the bathroom, pulling out his phone. Finch stayed there, hunched over the toilet, just crying. Eventually, he heard sirens. Voices. Hands on his body, lifting him up, placing him on something soft. Wires and cuffs and beeps and white. So much white. White sheets, white walls, white gowns, white ceilings, white floors. And pink. Pink? A flower. A lily.

“Uncle JoJo said you would like it.”

His Lily. Standing there. Scared.

“Where’s papa?”

Oh. JoJo stepped into his vision, followed closely by Race. His voice was soft, as if they were all glass that could shatter.

“We told you, honey. He’s-“ Finch could here JoJo take a deep breath, with Race saying something to him quietly.

“He’s gone, honey.”

“But when is he coming back? He said he would come back. Why won’t he come back?”

She was crying now, far too young for this tragedy. JoJo picked her up, muttering an apology as he left. Race sat down next to Finch’s bed, taking one of his hands. They stayed there for a while until a nurse came in a said that Race had to go. All the white turned to black as Finch slipped into unconsciousness.

He dreamt of Albert, sitting on the docks in Brooklyn. He dreamt of Albert, dancing in the rain. He dreamt of Albert lying in their bed, holding their daughter. Don’t go, he tried to say. Don’t leave, it’s not worth it. But Albert couldn’t hear him. More scenes of him passed by. Albert swimming, eating ice cream, watching tv, reading a book, playing with Lily at the playground. The day he asked Albert out, the day Albert proposed, the day of their wedding, the day they brought Lily home from the hospital. Their whole life together, blurred together through time. When Finch woke up, he was crying.

The funeral was hard. Hell, everything was hard. Lily was trying her best to understand, and Race and JoJo were trying their best to help them. They helped Finch tell the rest of their friends. Jack, Davey, Les, Sarah, Katherine, Crutchie, Romeo, Elmer, Buttons, Mush, Specs, Tommy, Mike, Ike, and Spot were all at the funeral. Finch tried to say something, he really did. Thankfully, Race had his back and gave the speech instead. He was glad when the whole thing was over. He just wanted to go back home.

Race and JoJo, bless them, stood by Lily and Finch for the rest of their lives. Slowly, they all learned to heal. Support groups, therapy, time. Some days were harder than others. Albert’s birthday, and their wedding anniversary. Those were days when Finch couldn’t get out of bed, days when Lily cried simply because her dad did. But time passed, no matter how slowly it did.

On Lily’s 18th birthday, there was a video. Something Finch had never thought they would have use for, but something that he had convinced Albert to make just in case. The sight of Albert’s face was enough to bring tears to their eyes, and the sound of his voice almost made Finch turn the tape off. But he didn’t.

“Hey, Lilybug. Happy 18th birthday! I hope you never have to see this, and I’m sorry if you do. I bet you’ve grown quite a lot, now! I’m sorry that I couldn’t be there today. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there every day. Hopefully, you’ve been good for Father Finch there. I wish I could see who you’ve grown up to be. I hope you know I’m proud of you, regardless of whatever has happened. I love you!”

As Albert leaned in to turn off the camera, Finch could see the tears in his eyes. He was crying now, and Lily was too. He tried to apologize, but she wouldn’t let him. As he hugged her tightly, she just whispered “Thank you.”

And 35 years later, as Finch laid in his hospital bed with his daughter by his side, all he could think about was finally seeing Albert again.

“I’ll see you soon, huh?” Finch laughed a little. “I’ll see you soon.”

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

tysm for reading! hope this wasn't too shit

#albert dasilva #finch cortes #finch newsies #racetrack higgins #jojo de la guerra #jojo newsies #newsies #fanfic #fanfiction #writing #redfinch

16 notes · View notes