#cot countdown | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cowboydisaster · 9 months

Note

I have no idea about the historical accuracy of this but imagine a reader who used to be in a pretty well off family (think like the braithwaites level in society) but she left it all and gave everything up to be with Arthur. It’s her first Christmas away from her family and she misses the Christmas tree back home. Queue Arthur cutting a tree down with his big manly man strength and dragging it back to camp to surprise her🥲

* ˚ ✦ Stardust * ˚ ✦

pairing: arthur morgan x f!reader word count: 4k a/n: margo!! This prompt was too cute. I kinda took it and RAN so I hope I did it justice! xx

cowboydisaster's christmas countdown: SEVEN days 'till christmas!

christmas countdown┊main masterlist┊rdr2 masterlist

If there's one thing you haven't gotten used to in this way of life, it's the elements. Camp is situated in Big Valley along the Upper Montana River. It's beautiful, and more open country than you've ever seen in your life. But damn, is it cold in winter. Snow drifts down from Mount Shann, creating a beautiful flurry of white around camp, albeit a freezing one.

At this moment, though, the cold doesn't bother you. In the safety of your tent, back tucked against Arthur's chest, it's impossible for the cold to reach you. He keeps you warm. Like a furnace, that man. You'd be worried he was running a fever if you weren't so used to his toasty-warm temperature.

You shuffle against Arthur, readjusting in the soft cotton cot. The wind whispers quietly outside, peacefully. Gone is the loud whipping ice storm that had come through a week or so ago. It's been replaced by a quiet falling of snow, the creak of nearby oaks.

“Darlin’? What is it?” Arthur whispers, voice sleepy against your ear. The hand that's hung over your waist squeezes gently, a small act of encouragement to respond. You smirk. You can picture his face, eyes closed, or half-lifted, eyebrows knitting with worry.

“What's wrong?” He whispers again. The hand on your waist flattens against your stomach, gently pulling you back towards him.

Oh, your Arthur. His heart is perfectly in tune with yours, and well, when yours is sunk, he notices. A peculiar little thing you've discovered– he always notices those small details, those small fluctuations in your mood. On top of that, he always addresses them.

Those selfless personality traits are why you left the city in the first place. Arthur is genuine, real. He's caring, and he communicates with you when you're upset. Your mamá and papá were far too concerned with selling you off to the most eligible bachelor in Saint Denis to care about your feelings. The bachelor's characteristics were of no importance, just his wealth and status in society. That life was… a load of shit, as your dear Arthur would say.

You'd started sneaking downtown at night to get away from the chaos of your home. Your parents were always fighting and screaming. Broken dishes and ringing ears became a staple in that house. La Bastille Saloon was a short walk from your house on Flavian Street. And that's where you met Arthur.

Despite his career, you immediately recognized him to be the first honest man that you'd ever met in your life. In a mere thirty seconds of conversation, you'd found a depth to him that your father could never scratch, a kindness that no arranged husband would show you. And so it became a habit. You'd sneak out of your window a few times a week, meeting him at La Bastille– talking, laughing, drinking. Arthur's whiskey burned far more than the French wine you'd sipped on in your life. Where you came from, drinking was for show. To sip on a glass of imported chablis was to assert class, but Arthur taught you how to drink for fun. He'd taught you how to play cards and how to cure a hangover. Your parents would be mortified at your unladylike behavior.

Arthur showed you fun, and kindness, spontaneity and honesty in a world that you thought was without those virtues. When Arthur had asked you to join him, it was an easy yes. He laid it all out. the good, the bad and the ugly. Criminals, you'd be joining. He was afraid that you would turn away, but crime is no stranger to you. Coming from high society, you saw the rich take from the poor time and again. You saw laundering and fraud, servitude, coercion and arranged murder.

All your family does is twist lies for their own benefit. They're all snakes, sinking their teeth into everything they come across. Gluttonous in their pursuit to expel venom. It has drowned the whole city of Saint Denis, sunk into the cobblestone roads and poisoned the entire place.

You see more honesty in the Van der Linde's life of crime than in your family's. At least the Van der Lindes are honest about what they do, and only rob from those who rob from others.

Leaving with Arthur was the most freeing feeling you've ever experienced. You love him with all your heart. You love the gang, and your new life, and yet even with all that you've gained, you still left so much behind. Joining Arthur; it's the best decision you've ever made, and you don't regret it for a moment, but the approaching holiday is bringing out sadness, memories of your childhood, friends that you'd left in the city. Any good memory of the city is recalled through rose tinted glasses, but still, it's beginning to sting now that it's almost Christmas.

“Darlin’?” Arthur says, the grogginess no longer evident in his voice. He pulls you back to the present like a tether. His thumb drags soothingly over your hip bone, and underneath the thick blankets, you lay your hand atop his.

“Hmm?” You offer.

“Where's your head at?” Arthur whispers, breath against your ear.

“Oh, just thinking.” You smile, but it doesn't reach your eyes. It's a sad smile, bittersweet. If a candle were lit, and he could see it, Arthur would be much more worried.

His fingertips brush your hair away from your face, gently pulling some strands behind your ear towards the braid they have escaped from.

Arthur lifts his hand from you, adjusting the blankets as you turn over in bed. Once you're facing him, he makes sure that all of the blankets cover your frame.

“It's just that this will be my first Christmas away from home.”

A small silence ensues. One that threatens to let tears slip down your rosy cheeks. Your nose tucks into Arthur's chest as you sniffle, hoping he hasn't taken your words with offense. This is your home now, and you wouldn't have it any other way. But old habits die hard.

“You missin’ home?” Arthur whispers between kisses to your hair. You shake your head quickly

“No-no. I don't want you to think-”

“Baby, I ain't gonna give you a hard time ‘cause you're missin’ home. Hell… my childhood weren’t nothin’ but a world of pain, and sometimes I miss it.”

You should have expected his understanding. Arthur's never made you feel foolish for your feelings. His hand traces along your hip, keeping you warm and coaxing you to settle back into the comfortable space that he’s surrounded you with.

“I’m finding it difficult.” You whisper, “The holidays are coming up, and they’re bringing lots of memories. Fond ones, things I don’t want to forget.”

“Tell me about them.”

“Well…” You crack a small smile, eyes going far away, back to old memories long ago, “Papá would have a Christmas tree shipped from Cumberland forest, only the best for him of course.” You chuckle, and Arthur smiles for the sweet sound.

“And we would decorate it with candles, blown glass, popcorn and cranberries. Oh, it was such a sight Arthur.” You say, a wonder in your voice. The memories are crystal clear in your head. Bright colors, laughter, songs.

Arthur's Christmas memories don't bring much joy. Except for the year his daddy didn't come home. Still, the way your eyes have lit up– Arthur wishes he could have experienced the Christmas that you're describing. He wishes he could see you with that much joy.

“Have you ever seen a Christmas tree?” You ask, rekindling that tether and pulling him back to you.

“Nah, only in the papers. I ain't never lived nowhere so fancy to have a Christmas tree.”

“It was so beautiful…” You whisper, a chill running down your spine. You hardly notice it, but Arthur pulls you closer nonetheless, his body heat wrapping around you like the warmest of blankets.

“It seemed as if when the tree was decorated and we all sat together, maybe it was not so bad.” You murmur, and the wonder dissipates from your eyes, replaced with reality.

Arthur waits for you to collect your thoughts. A whistle of wind breaks the silence before you do.

“Ah, I'm sorry for this show of emotion. It's silly of me.”

He shakes his head, forehead gently meeting yours. Your eyes marvel up at Arthur, making out the deep blue of his eyes from a stretch of moonlight that's infiltrated the room.

“You ain't ever gotta apologize for gettin’ emotional, sweetheart. Not with me.”

All you can do is nod, feeling again like a schoolgirl with butterflies running rampant in your stomach. His breath traces your face, noses just barely lining each other.

His lips meet yours, soft and sweet. Your heart soars like it does every time he kisses you. It's something that you're sure you won't ever get used to. But something you're hoping to find familiarity in, because you never want to stop kissing him.

He pulls away all too soon for your liking, placing a sweet kiss to your forehead. When he hears your small whine, he huffs.

“I know, get back to sleep baby, I'll still be here in the mornin’.”

It doesn't take long for you to slip back into slumber, not with the soft whisper of the wind, and the cocoon of warmth around you. Arthur practically carries you across the threshold into sleep with the way his arms wrap around you.

In the little tent, deep in the snow, Arthur begins to hatch his plan. He kisses your head, climbing over you and out of bed to light a candle. It provides just enough light to illuminate the pages of his journal. Just enough light for him to illustrate his surprise.

He had promised you– all those months ago, when he'd packed your bags onto his horse and ridden you out of the city– that he would do anything and everything to make you happy. It's a promise that he intends to keep

— — —

a few days later

“This is the one.” Arthur marvels, sparkling eyes cast upwards toward the fullest, greenest evergreen in Cumberland Forest. You deserve nothing but the best, and he’s sure that he’s found it.

Arthur takes a short moment to pull out his journal, dusting some fallen snow from the leather cover. He sketches the tree, a way for him to remember the moment. To remember how the tree had been, perfectly untouched in nature. He takes his time, back propped against the unhitched wagon in the forest, hat covered in a thick dusting of snow. A few flakes even drop onto the page, melting and smudging his charcoal.

When the branches are sketched to his liking, he accompanies them with a quick passage and closes the book.

For the lady. Christmas. 1899.

When the book snaps shut and is stuffed back into his journal, he looks up, finding a questioning look on his trusted stallion’s face.

“What?” Arthur’s brow furrows, “I’ll plant another one.”

The stallion sighs.

Arthur moves around the back of the wagon, pulling an ax from the toolbox, dusting some snow off the handle with gloved hands. The ground is covered in a thick layer of white, the horses too. They press their noses together, whinnying and rumbling, entertaining each other with horse-typical play in the snow.

“Jasper. Sugar. Quit bein’ sweet on one another, we got work to do.” Arthur calls back to the two horses. What a pair, those two.

Jasper is Arthur’s stallion. He’s well behaved. Shy. Obedient. Then there’s Sugar. She was a gift from Arthur to you. White as snow and wild as the wind. She still is, despite all of her training.

Arthur had brought the pair of them with the wagon to pull the tree back to camp. But now, Sugar seems more interested in kicking up snow, and well– Jasper is only interested in following Sugar around, hearts practically emitting from his eyes.

Snow falls in thick flakes, dotting Arthur’s red flannel and melting against the thick material. He pays it no mind. The snowfall silences the forest, save for the rhythmic whack…whack of Arthur’s ax hitting the evergreen, and the softened sound of playful hooves in the snow.

“Don’t tire yourselves out.” Arthur huffs to the horses, “Jesus.”

A few more swings of the ax, and the tree begins to fall. It hits the ground with a thud, not nearly as loud as Arthur imagined it would be. But, the snow softened the fall, he supposes.

In a matter of minutes, the tree is in the wagon. Just a few more, and Jasper and Sugar are pulling it home.

If everything is going according to plan, right now you should be with Marybeth, picking holly. She had taken you out, because she had “wanted to spruce up camp a bit.” Little do you know, the little adventure is a part of Arthur’s plan. With you away from camp, he was able to borrow Sugar, take Jasper, and get the tree. With you away from camp, the final touches can fall into place.

Arthur gently taps the reins over the horse’s backs, urging them into a faster canter along the beaten down snow path back towards camp.

“Hyah! C’mon, we’re pushin’ it.” He calls to the horses. The little golden bells on their harnesses jingle and ring as he pushes them towards camp, massive evergreen in tow. He checks his pocket watch, cursing quietly before putting it away. Sadie should be done by now.

It’s not long before the horses are pulling into camp, large puffs of white billowing out from their noses as they catch their breath. Arthur hops down from the wagon, his hand running along the expanse of it as he reaches the back.

“Well, I’ll be damned!” Dutch’s voice booms from across the camp. He makes his way towards the wagon, “Now this is how we celebrate Christmas!”

The evergreen nearly overtakes the wagon, branches sticking out from all directions, billows of snow still stuck to them. Dutch has no idea how Arthur managed to get it into the wagon. An approaching Hosea is just as flabbergasted.

“You know, I never took you to be much of a romantic, Arthur. But this might just prove me wrong.” Hosea

“Whatever you say. Now, quit gawkin’ and help me get this big bastard up.” Arthur mumbles, grabbing the thick tree by the trunk and pulling it down. Sap sticks to his hands as he begins to drag it out of the wagon. Carrying it into the center of camp is a group effort– much easier than Arthur getting it into the wagon by himself.

“I reckon you two can handle this. I got some other things to check up on.” Arthur steps back, sizing the tree up and down.

“Run along then and leave us the hard work.” Dutch muses, within earshot of Arthur.

“Figured it would do your old bones some good to do real work, Dutch!” Arthur hollers back over his shoulder, chuckling to himself as he makes his way towards the circle of tents.

“Mrs. Adler?” Arthur hollers, approaching the A-frame tent, “You in there?”

Before he can part the white canvas tent, Sadie emerges, and he backs up.

“You get it done?” Arthur asks, cheeks tinged bright pink from the cold. Hat white instead of black. Sadie chuckles for it.

“Did I get it done?” Sadie mocks with a huff, “A’ course I got it done.”

From her tent, she pulls out a Christmas tree garland. A string carefully woven through dried cranberries and popped corn. It's beautiful and long. It must have taken her hours to make. Arthur’s eyes go wide in small wonder as she transfers the garland to him.

“S’perfect, Sadie. She’s gonna love this.”

A wide, bittersweet smile stretches across Sadie’s face, “Jake taught me how,” there is a pause as Arthur nods in understanding, “Now go. Go decorate it for your woman.” Sadie smirks.

“Dear boy! Dear boy, how does it look?” Hosea calls out, and Arthur’s attention shoots towards the tree. They have it standing upright now, perfectly in the center of camp. It stands tall, a real beauty.

“Perfect.” He gapes at it, wishing he could have done something like this when he was younger– hoping that it will live up to your memories. Arthur doesn’t have the money to buy fancy ornaments, but he’s doing everything in his power to make it special for you.

With the help of the horses and the wagon, everyone manages to wrap the garland the whole way around the tree, even up to the top. The little trail of white and red looks beautiful against the dark green of the pine. Arthur places lit candles in holders on the branches, casting a beautiful hazy glow that lights up the tree. Camp members begin to gather, circling around the tree, watching and helping. Mrs. Grimshaw offers some holly. Karen offers some candy canes that she had bought in town, hanging them from the branches.

The sun begins to set, and Arthur checks his watch, knowing that you’ll be back any minute. A small tug on his pants pulls his attention downwards.

“Uncle Arthur?” Little Jack whispers, eyes sparkling with the reflection of the tree lights, “I made this for you! For you to put it on auntie's tree!”

Arthur’s brow furrows, and he glances quickly up to Abigail, who is smiling warmly. Jack reaches into his little bag and pulls out a beautiful paper star. He has apparently put a lot of time and effort into folding and cutting the paper into a perfect little topper. Jack’s little hands extend the star up to Arthur, the smile on his face brighter than any of the tree’s candles.

“You made this?” Arthur asks.

“Yep, I sure did! Momma even helped me cut the paper!”

Arthur kneels on the ground– eye level with Jack, a smirk on his lips, “I think we better put it on the top then, don't you?”

“Oh yes! It would be perfect on top! I just hope aunt y/n likes it…”

“She’ll love this, buddy.”

With some more help from a very grumpy Sugar, Arthur manages to place the star perfectly on the tree top. And just in time, apparently.

When Arthur steps back, taking in the tree for all its glory, his jaw falls slack, eyes filling up with wonder.

It's beautiful. At dusk, the candles shine brightly. The garland has attracted a few red cardinals, and they rest in the branches, comfortable in the new camp tree. Everyone looks in awe. It’s perfect.

— — —

“No peekin’.” Arthur whispers in your ear from behind, his hands covering your eyes. He slowly walks you forwards towards… something. He hasn’t explained anything to you, just… kidnapped you right outside of camp. You’ve been walking with him, eyes covered for nearly five minutes.

“Oh, Arthur, what is going on!?” You giggle, hands covering the length of his own, a smile plastered on your face.

“S’a surprise, darlin’. That’s why you can’t peek.” Arthur’s voice whispers from behind you, his chest nearly pressed against your back as he inches you forward.

You roll your eyes. Suddenly, his footsteps are still behind you, and you stop in return.

“Is this why I was stuck in the forest picking berries all day?” You ask. Arthur huffs.

“Shhh. We’re here.” He shushes.

Your heart quickens with excitement, bottom lip tight between your teeth with anticipation. As much as you try to listen for any clues, all you can hear is the munching of hay and the crackle of the campfire– typical for camp after dusk.

“Arthur…?” You whisper, almost afraid to break the quiet. Anticipation swirls in your stomach, followed by anxiety tickling up your spine.

His calloused hands pull away from your eyes, and your lashes flutter as you focus on the sight in front of you.

It’s… a christmas tree. Your jaw falls slack, and as unladylike as it may be, you can’t help it. A small gasp escapes your rosy lips.

It must be twelve feet high, and it's thick with branches. Candles, and decor wrap around the tree like a dress tailored to perfection. Color and light burst from the beautiful tree, and before you can control yourself, tears are welling up in your eyes.

“Arthur, I–” Your voice cracks, the tears almost spilling over.

“Darlin’?” Arthur’s thumb softly brushes the inside of your hand. For a moment, he worries that he’s misstepped terribly. The sight of your tears brings forth a small panic, quelled by the outburst of your smile. Tears fall freely from your eyes, but they are of joy– not sadness.

“You got me– You got me a Christmas tree?” You smile, wiping away the tears as he envelopes you into his warm arms. You sniffle, laughs of pure joy escaping into his chest as he holds you tight.

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart.” Arthur whispers to you, arms wrapped around your waist. The light from the tree dances in your eyes, almost as beautiful and bright as your smile.

“Oh, Arthur, it’s perfect.” You gasp, eyes glued to the tree, pulling away to glance into Arthur’s eyes, “How ever did you get it here?”

“With a little help.” Arthur nods towards the horse station where Sugar and Jasper are laying in the hay, nuzzling each other sweetly. As if knowing, Sugar whinnies towards you softly, followed by a quiet neigh from Jasper.

Your eyes wander back towards the tree in front of you, and then to Arthur once again. His hands slide down from your waist, thumbs settling into the dimples in your back.

“It's beautiful.” You say.

“It’s all yours.”

In all of your life, Arthur has been the first person to cater to your emotions– to care about them. Your heart fills with love, so much that it overflows and floods the earth at your feet. Soaking into the ground of the camp, touching the hearts of the others around you.

“I love you.” You whisper, head resting on Arthur’s chest, eyes fixed on a cardinal that’s pecking at the popped corn on the tree.

“I-” Arthur pauses, realizing. His brow furrows, eyes flickering down, “Wait, what?”

“I said I love you.” You reiterate, chin propped on his chest to look up at him. Arthur looks nearly blown away by the words. Words he’s not heard from you yet. Words that he’s nearly let slip time and again over the past few months.

Arthur’s lips crack into a smile, crows feet wrinkling for the action. His thumb brushes your cheek before trailing down to your chin, pulling you in towards his lips. You lean on your tiptoes, brushing your lips against his, meeting him with all the love and joy that you never thought would be possible for you. He’s taken you from a bad situation, and given you everything you could have wanted and more. Your lips press against his, pink-tinged noses lining each other. Your eyes flutter shut, snowflakes catching in your thick lashes as you deepen the kiss. Your fingers tangle into the hair at the base of his neck, your tongues dance with one another.

When you pull away to breathe, your eyes lock with his, sparkling with light.

“I love you too.” He smirks, hands wrapping under your thighs, eliciting giggles from you as he hoists you into his arms. Fat snowflakes fall into your hair as Arthur turns towards your tent, ready to carry you to bed.

“No- wait!” You grip his arm, stopping him in his tracks, “Please, Arthur- just five more minutes. I’d like to keep looking at the tree.”

Arthur pauses, brushing your cold cheek, “Alright. Five more minutes.” He smiles, pressing a sweet kiss to your hair.

The tree shines bright as ever, as if god had sprinkled stardust down from the heavens, painting your tree in beautiful white light.

taglist: @margofiore @mrsarthurmorgan7 @woman-with-no-name @tillith @luvliewriting @pine4pple-b0i @photo1030 @dudsparrow @holyratrimony @twola

#divider by cafekitsune #cowboydisaster's christmas countdown #bea's christmas countdown #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #red dead redemption two #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan imagine #arthur morgan fluff

416 notes · View notes

abarbaricyalp · 7 months

Note

Either 🛥️ or 🐦 for the SamBucky romance asks!

Sambucky staples! From this list

🛥️ Meanwhile, on the Boat...

Bucky's phone rang for the fourth time.

"You should get that," Sam panted, though he didn't let go of Bucky's hair to facilitate that happening.

It didn't matter. "Not for half a million dollars," Bucky rejected instantly. He put his mouth back against Sam's neck, working a bruise up to the surface just to prove some point that they'd both forgotten about at that point.

"It could be important," Sam said, half of the thought getting lost in a gasp.

Bucky settled his weight against Sam more firmly, hips pressing into Sam's, thighs holding Sam's apart, even thought he little sleeper couch in the cabin was definitely not big enough for this. "I don't care. Not as important as you."

So true, Sam agreed to himself. If it wasn't for the fact that Bucky's phone was on the floor, so it was vibrating half the ship with each ring, he'd be more than happy to let Bucky ignore it.

It began to ring for a fifth time.

Sam sighed and pushed Bucky back, which wasn't super successful, but he managed to free an arm and could grab the phone. If it meant he strained up against Bucky's flushed body to use him as an anchor, so be it.

"Cass texted you a bunch of nonsense about a countdown. Sarah called you three times. The last two were Cass. Oh, he just texted again to say that... 'Mom's on her way. SOS.' What's that mean? Why are you two in trouble with Sarah?"

"Oh, shit," Bucky acknowledged for the first time in a while. He scrabbled to get off of Sam and only managed to fall flat on his face in the process when his hand slipped off the edge of the cot.

Like some kind of stage cue, Sarah walked into the cabin just as Bucky was extricating his face from Sam's chest. Her mouth curled to one side, completely unimpressed, and she crossed her arms.

"I said distract him. Not steal him away for the whole afternoon."

"That's not my fault," Bucky said. "He's too distractible."

"You're too distractible," she accused. "People have been waiting for half an hour."

"Waiting on what?" Sam asked, shoving Bucky back so they could both sit up. "Distract me from--- Oh."

Sarah threw her hands up in the air and Bucky had the decency to look sheepish. "Can you pretend to be surprised?" he asked.

"I knew I shoulda just brought everyone out here. Given you a real surprise," Sarah added.

"Y'all planned a whole party for me?" Sam asked, feeling deeply touched even while Bucky was getting the Sarah Wilson Special as far as eye daggers went. Sam hadn't seen some of these looks since high school.

"Well, Sarah did most of the planning," Bucky admitted.

"He had one job this whole time!"

"I did my job!" Bucky defended. He threw an arm around Sam's shoulders and grinned in a way that would get him out of a lot of trouble, but not this trouble. "I kept him distracted."

"Just get your thick heads to the house. Please and thank you. And I'm not leaving this boat until you two stand up."

Pointedly, Sam stood up. Reluctantly, Bucky followed.

"A whole surprise party, huh?" Sam asked, hooking his fingers in Bucky's belt loops to tug him forward.

"My job was also to make sure you weren't out of state when it was happening," Bucky added with a pleased little grin. "I kept you home for three whole days."

"Yeah, I bet you were just out there single handedly defeating aliens," Sam agreed. He leaned in for a series of short kisses and had to duck out of the way when Bucky went for his neck again.

"Wait a minute," he said, letting go of Bucky to bring his fingers up to his neck. Judging by the way Bucky was already creeping to the door, he knew the answer. "Did you just put a hickey on my neck before I go see everyone?"

"No one will be able to tell!" Bucky called as he dashed out of the cabin and across the deck to the pier.

Sam was quickly after him, the boat rocking behind them.

#sambucky #sam wilson #bucky barnes #i answer things #writing

25 notes · View notes

tarisilmarwen · 1 year

Text

Whumptober 2023 - "Secluded"

(WHUMPTOBER TIME AGAIN BITCHES. I dunno about any of you but my RL situation is sucking right now so I was only too happy to take it out on a few of my favorite characters.

First up, Hiro Hamada. Sorry kid.

This can be considered a Bad End AU of "Countdown to Catastrophe", basically exploring what if Globby wasn't able to free Hiro.

Prompt used:

No. 3 - "Like crying out in empty rooms, with no one there except the moon": Journal/Solitary Confinement/"Make it stop."

Warnings for depression and self-harm ideation.)

---

Day three. I think. There aren't exactly windows so it's a little hard to tell time, but the lights in here have been shut off twice.

Not like I could sleep any.

Found this notebook in the desk drawer. Dunno why I'm doing this. Maybe just in case... in case I die in here, so someone can find it and tell Aunt Cass and my friends and Professor Granville and everyone else that I'm sorry. If they're even...

Hiro stopped, his pencil scratching to a halt, his fingers and chest tight. The breath shuddered out of him, rattling all through his body.

He dropped the pencil and pushed back from the desk, out of his seat and pacing again as the familiar gut-churning panic and fear coiled in his stomach. His shoes tapped softly on the metal floor as he paced from end to end of the small room—the small cell, his brain unhelpfully reminded him—trying to work though the clenching tightness squeezing his diaphragm.

He couldn't think about that. Don't think about it, he told himself, scoldingly. Don't think about everyone and everything being gone, wiped out by the invention he helped make.

After a long four minutes his insides finally loosened. He stopped walking, pressing hands up against his face, dragging his fingers through his messy hair.

He returned to the desk and grabbed up the pencil, biting his lip to hold back the heat stinging his eyes.

I can't get out. I've tried. Bruised up my whole arm bashing against the door.

I don't know what happened. I think my friends managed to stop Obake's device. There was a loud rumble and I could hear a lot of shouting. Obake sounded pissed . I haven't seen him at all since he locked me in here.

He won't tell me what's going on.

That was the worst part, Hiro thought, feeling acutely again the cold shallow pool of dread that was now a permanent fixture in his stomach. The silence. The not knowing. Not even the echoes of Noodle Burger Boy's bright chipper voice gave any clue or hint as to what was happening outside his prison.

His left hand drifted up to gingerly touch his sore right shoulder, tender from his fight with the door.

He sighed and scratched out a final, miserable line.

I miss Baymax.

Getting up again he crossed over to the flat cot that served as the bed, both arms crossed now, fingers curling tight into the folds of his blue jacket. He sat and scooted back to the wall, knees up by his chest, angling his head to look towards the door and the single porthole that was his only view outside. He watched for a long hour for a flash of shadow, a flicker of movement, something, anything.

But there was nothing.

***

Day four. Obake must have a camera in here somewhere, watching me. Swear I only drifted off for ten minutes but when I woke up there was a food tray waiting for me on the desk. Don't understand why he waited 'til I was asleep; he couldn't stop talking my ear off before. I'd almost take that, right now. The quiet is killing me.

Hiro stared down trepidatiously at the plate of food sitting there on the metal surface of the desk.

He should eat. He should. Starving himself wasn't going to help.

But the spit tasted like ash in his mouth and his stomach rolled over, queasily.

Swallowing thickly, Hiro stepped back away from the desk, wandering to each of the far corners of the room in turn.

***

Day four still. It's late, I think, but the lights haven't been shut off yet. Finally ate a few things off the tray. I feel fine so I guess it's not poisoned or drugged.

Worked at the door again for a while, but the wheel doesn't budge, and I can't access the lock from this side.

Checked the bars on the air vent, no luck there either.

If he was just a little bit scrawnier he might've been able to slip through the narrow gaps between the bars, assuming he could pull himself up high enough. Hiro stared at the vent, wondering if the dresser would be tall enough to reach if he shoved it up against the wall underneath.

His ears pricked at the sound of footsteps in the hall and then he jolted as the metal bolt in the door scraped back.

Hiro whirled around, tingles of fear pricking around his head, buzzing his ears. He felt very cornered as he looked towards the opening door.

A long silhouette stood there. Obake stepped into the room and Hiro swallowed. This had been what he wanted—a break from the oppressive silence, a chance to confront Obake and demand to know what had become of San Fransokyo and his aunt and friends—but now that he had it... he wasn't sure he wanted it anymore. His heart raced with cloying fear and his throat was so tight he couldn't make himself speak. He trembled as he gaped at the villain, who looked back at him with impassive, eerie calm.

Hiro forced his voice past the claws tearing at his lungs. "What-" he attempted, words hitching in his throat. "What happened to the city? Are my friends—?"

"The city remains standing and your friends are making a nuisance of themselves," Obake interrupted, turning his gaze clinically towards the desk. He stepped into the room and placed something on it—the broken pieces of Hiro's energy amplifier. "For now," he said. He stepped back again, hands clasping behind him. "I need you to rebuild it," he ordered, a terse edge in his voice.

Hiro shuddered with a small sense of relief, then firmed his eyes and glared as he crossed his arms.

"There is... no way I'm doing that," he emphasized.

Obake's mouth twitched, the hints of a creepy smile playing at his lips. "We'll see," he said simply. "I'd like to point out, I can make your stay here very unpleasant if I have to, Hiro, though I'd much prefer not to. Do try to be cooperative," he said, patronizingly, putting a hand on the door's edge as he stepped back across the threshold.

Belatedly, Hiro lunged for the door, tramping across the room only for it to slam in his face, the lock clicking back solidly into place. His fists thumped against the solid metal block, his heart sinking, the weight of his guilt and despair dragging down his head.

Hiro inhaled shakily as he looked at the floor, then pushed up from the door.

He pointedly ignored the broken parts on the desk as he went back to the cot, curling up on its meager cushion.

***

Day five. The lights weren't turned off last night. Obake waited until I was right about to fall asleep and then he pumped a FREAKING ALARM into my room. It's been going off for hours now.

Hiro groaned miserably, clenching hands over his ears as the shrill screech of the alarm echoed in his tiny cell. His eyes blinked blearily. Every limb was tired. But the sterile white light and the blaring ring wouldn't just let him close his eyes and drift away.

He blinked back tears. The lack of sleep was getting to him. Clenching his hands tighter around his ears he grit his teeth and tried to endure.

How early was it now? 1AM? 3? He couldn't tell; the alarm had been going for an eternity it felt like, and he didn't exactly have a watch.

Feeling a scream building up in his chest, Hiro stood from the chair, journal entry forgotten, trying to block out as much of the horrible sound as he could with his hands.

The alarm continued, unceasing. Uncaring.

"Stop it..." he muttered. Louder, he cried, "Stop it!" He stumbled back, thighs hitting the cot. "Make it stop! Make it stop!" he begged.

The alarm didn't stop, but a squeal of feedback sounded in hidden speakers before Obake's voice piped in.

"You know what I want, dear boy," the villain said pleasantly, disturbingly cheerful.

Hiro clenched his teeth, glaring at the pieces of the energy amplifier on his desk. Defiantly, he took his hands off his ears, grabbed one of the pieces and hurled it into the closest wall, bouncing it off the side and shattering flakes off.

"Suit yourself," the voice in the speakers said, and the alarms seemed to grow even louder, pounding inside his head with painful pressure.

Hiro's face screwed. His eyes squeezed tight, mouth firming until he couldn't feel it.

He sank to the floor and scooted up under the cot, trying to escape the awful noise.

***

Day five six?

I caved. He threatened Aunt Cass. I'm sorry, Tadashi, I can't... I can't lose anyone else.

Hiro blinked hard, willing away the threatening blur tearing at his eyes. His hands shook on the grip of the screwdriver as he tried very hard to twist back in a bolt.

He hadn't been given many tools. Obake had apologized for what was on hand, promising to give him whatever he needed, sounding uncharacteristically concerned.

Hiro couldn't think about that. He couldn't think about anything.

He focused on the ringing still reverberating through his ears and the meticulous motions of his hands as he tried to piece back together the broken parts of the amplifier, the pinch and click of metal the only sounds in the now-silent room.

***

Day ????

Amplifier's almost fixed. I don't remember when Obake was in last, but he sounded pleased with my progress.

Ears finally stopped ringing.

This is all my fault. I'm sorry, Tadashi, I'm so, SO—

Trembling fingers dropped the pencil, and Hiro covered his face, sobbing through his hands harshly.

***

The journal lay open and unupdated on the desk, next to the nearly-repaired amplifier. Hiro stared morosely at it from the cot across the room, ear pressed to the pillow, too depressed to move.

Maybe if he sat here long enough, Obake would just get fed up and kill him.

Emotion welling up his throat, he turned and pressed his face against the thin pillow, holding back the tears that wanted to steal from him.

He hated being here. Hated this cell. Hated himself.

His clothes were starting to stink. He wanted to hurt himself, force Obake to let Baymax in to see him.

He couldn't bear to lift a finger. He just sat there.

Unmoving. Unblinking.

In the utter silence.

***

There was a noise at the door.

Hiro lifted his head groggily, confused, pulling out of some fitful sleep. There seemed to be voices, frantic and worried, out in the hallway.

Blue light stabbed suddenly through the door and Hiro yanked upright, sleep falling rapidly off him. His heart lodged straight in his throat, windpipe threatening to crush itself from the strain in his neck as he stared in guarded, fearful hope at the plasma laser blade slicing through the metal.

Great pieces and chunks of the door fell away, and Hiro flung himself up, stumbling on shaky feet until he hit Wasabi's chest and flung arms around his middle, openly sobbing into his friend's stomach.

Wasabi was frozen for a moment, plasma blades held up awkwardly as he glanced towards the others, all wide-eyed with worry and pinched with concern.

He dispelled the blades, dropping arms around the quivering, shaking shoulders of the fourteen-year-old and squeezing tight, ignoring his own quibbles about open PDA and how rank and disheveled Hiro was.

"Hey, it's okay," he reassured the boy, hugging harder. "We've got you."

The others crowded in, arms joining the embrace and holding the youngest member of their team with fervent emotion.

"We've got you," came the whispered repetition, echoing around the group.

Hiro just cried in relief.

---

*whispers* I'm sorry.

#whumptober2023 #big hero 6 #Disney #fanfiction #prompt fics #hiro hamada #whump #cute boys in peril

15 notes · View notes

mister-eames · 9 months

Note

1/2 ok hear me out, but what if eames & arthur shared their first kiss years & years before they ever got together? im team 'they met in the army', so what if eames and arthur were the only two from project somancin who decided to stay rather than leave base during the holidays. eames is lying on his cot, hands behind his head watching the NY countdown to the new year on tv whilst arthur's cleaning his guns quietly on his side of the barracks. eames (who will obvs never admit to this, but

3/3 step to the New year countdown on the tv. and once it's done he literally just strolls back to his cot, picks up his gun and resumes cleaning it while eames is left there staring after him like what the fuccccccccccckkkkkkkkkkk my life has just been irrevocably changed foreVER

Ahh I'm afraid tumblr ate the second part of your ask, but I think I can piece it all together!!!

I do adore the "met in the army" iterations of their origin stories! There's so much room for exploration in any of their verses and military 'verse always is such an interesting one! I'd read the heck out of a lovely piece like this that would explore a NYE kiss moment!

#op wheres the fic!!

3 notes · View notes

nursc · 8 months

Note

"3, 2, 1..."

with an affectionate sigh, christine dropped her bag silently by the door, removing her jacket and toeing off her work-boots in a silent dance. padding over to the couch where dwight lay, passed out, holding an equally peaceful charlotte in his arms, she grinned. kensa completed the picture, growing limbs draped over dwight, one hand stretched out towards her sister.

brushing a strand of hair away from his eyes, she gently scooped up the baby, making soothing noises as both dwight and charlotte stirred. the baby's blue eyes fluttered open, and christine held her breath, not daring to move a muscle, as she watched charlotte's mouth transform from a peaceful line, to a terrifying, familiar 'oh',, before finally relaxing back into a placcid expression.

setting the baby down in her cot in her quarters, christine lingers, singing a lullaby under her breath until she knows she didn't inadvertently ruin their new years. m'benga let her go a few hours early, saying something about how no one was getting into trouble in the past 10 minutes of the new years, and if she stayed, she'd get roped into helping delta shift. eager to get back to her quarters, to their first new year as a family, she rushed out without looking back, sunny laughter mixed with joseph's knowing chuckles.

❛⠀⠀you have no idea what is going on, do you?⠀ ⠀ ❜⠀ ⠀ she asks, still quiet as a mouse, smiling softly as the baby snuggled into her blanket.⠀ ⠀❛⠀⠀but you still tired daddy out, huh? ⠀ ⠀ ❜⠀ ⠀ usually careful with the use of the dreaded word, especially if kensa is around. in the silence of the quarters, she lets it slip. fingers tickle the baby’s tummy one last time before she quietly sneaks back into the living quarters, the door closing with not even a click behind her.

the quiet procession didn't disturb kensa's dreams, but when she lifted her gaze — and her padd, to sneak a picture — blue eyes catch hers in the dim room.

hi, she mouths, setting the padd down on the table. there is no way dwight is getting out of that jigsaw without waking up kensa. raising a hand to halt him, she grabs the supplies she set out in case kensa actually stayed up past midnight and a water bottle for dwight before nestling into the place once occupied by charlotte, slender flame melding against his.

❛⠀⠀ sorry to wake you,⠀ ⠀ ❜⠀ ⠀ she says, words no more than a low vibration next to his ear, her trove of goodies and ridiculous glasses on the couch next to them. christine had this ridiculous fantasy they'd all be awake when she got home; she'd line them up by the window and put on an oversized boa on charlotte and snap a hundred pictures of the four of them, start a new tradition, but she should have known they'd all be asleep by the time she came home, neither kid lasting one shift without a nap. or two, in lottie's case. ⠀ ⠀ ❛⠀⠀ good night?⠀ ⠀ ❜

the question has barely left her mouth when an echo slips under their doors. it seems not even starfleet's sound-proofing can dim the excitement of a ship full of party-goers. the countdown fills the room, not even making a dent in kensa's slumber. it's just the two of them and as the clock strikes twelve, she raises her chin and captures his lips in a sweet kiss, one hand rising to cup his cheek, breathing him in,

❛⠀⠀ happy new year, dwight.⠀ ⠀ ❜

#˗ˏˋ ― don't thank me. ， 𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚜. ´ˎ˗#smooch #sanitatcm #anyways as i said #baby content

2 notes · View notes

lostinanothersmemories · 2 years

Text

Nine-Minutes

Warnings: nsfw (18+), Vega and his weird possessiveness

Or on Ao3

They hate his stupid smirk, the one they can feel on their skin with every kiss he places lower and lower. When he glances up thumbs already dipping under their waistband they can’t maintain the eye contact. They swear he leaves a deep chuckle in their head mocking them, taunting them, as he always does. Ever reliant he lets a bit of psychokinesis pop the button of their pants zipper exposing them for him. “Nine-minutes,” they comment without a glance down.

Tough crowd.

He continues his kisses no sense of urgency despite the constant countdown on their bet, their thigh twitches in response to his feathery light kiss. A single digit glides across them painfully not enough yet when his thumb joins followed by another finger they suddenly find it just a bit too much. A heavy gasp stretching his lips into another smile so confident he’ll win. Which his lips target their most sensitive point their hand doesn’t hesitate to grab onto one of those curled horns he’s so proud of. It only entices him further, filling their head with compliments.

You look so good losing,

You taste delicious,

You could be a sex demon with a body like that you’d never struggle to feed.

It the eyes that goes first, the routine magic used to maintain a more humanly shade thrown away when his hand joins his mouth. It’s a good thing they don’t need the oxygen their body has begun neglected the act of intake when their core tightens. Suddenly the grip on one of his horns isn’t enough their free hand previously pressing into the wall finds a chunk of his hair pulling harshly.

I didn’t know you could be such a rough lover my darling.

Their hand retreats as they find the strength to take in air again.

That wasn’t a complaint but I understand your performance anxiety.

“Sh-shut up,” they struggle through when he picks up his work just to spite them.

Oh I do love those eyes of yours it’s a shame you’ve become so insistent on hiding the most extravagant parts of yourself.

They hate him, the way his hand lifts their thigh over his shoulder, and they can’t help the whine. Without a warning he leaves his knees and instead of letting them rest on the ground lifts them with himself. Weight resting on the hand under them and the thigh resting on his shoulder.

They should have made rules, they should had been more specific about what he was allowed to do…They shouldn’t even be in this position in the first place. How could they have let him talk them into this again.

All it takes is a nip at their thigh to bring them right back to focus.

You know I don’t like being ignored darling, especially not by my pretty little pet.

That voice sends a shiver down their spine every time, chilling how he’ll react with such coolness. It’s like rifting to the Artic from Puerto Rico.

The gruff huff of a breath that was never taken pulls them from another wandering thought, Vega unhappy without their full attention letting them fall back onto the creaky cot. Keeping their thighs spread with his body as those cold to the touch hands push up their arms. A flash of magic keeping their wrists still. “It hasn’t been nine minutes”

You won’t be complaining soon. Eyes on me.

Despite the urge to look away they watch him set kisses down their stomach biting the second they start to think of anything but how his piercing eyes have locked onto their gaze.

When his fingers sink back into them, they want to curse the fiend out, he cannot possibly run so cold, and the smirk given to them when they jump is just evidence of his mischief.

Vega’s eyes leave them just for a moment while he readjusts their position and when his fingers curl their whole-body jerks in response. In sick pleasure he pokes and prods the spot catching an ankle attempting to push him away. Their unnecessary breathes pick up, unable to find the willpower to keep their head up it falls back. Bit back whines replacing any snark left, and when their hands grip onto the metal of the cot those cool fingers pull away.

They are panting merely out of the habit of imitation trying to communicate a simple question. “What-“

The deal was if I get you to orgasm within nine minutes, I get to have you as I want you tonight. I’ve got plenty of time left my warden, and I want to hear you.

“Your obsession with-“is cut off with a yelp as his mouth abuses that sensitive spot he loves so much. This time he’s far too close to kick off so their body chases that pleasure while they wish him off, thighs closing around his head. The rough texture of his horns rubbing against their skin, it wouldn’t be the first time their skin was reddened by that roughness. If he has anything to say about it, it won’t be the last either.

My obsession with what, my dear.

The cot creaks when they tug against the bonds he’s made, they refuse to answer but their hips buck into his mouth. Thighs beginning to tremble when he slips his hands between their thighs to force them apart. Keeping himself from another opportunity to win, a bastard truly, refusing to simply win the bet but overpower them completely.

His lips catch theirs sharp teeth and his passioned grip on their hips slowly moving their legs up until they can feel their thighs on their stomach.

Let me hear you.

Bastard. A hand abandoned their thigh to take their throat in his hand, they both know breathing is optional, but their habit is hard to kick anyways.

He fights back that more sadistic side of him but still growls in their mind when his hand tightens around their throat.

I want to give you what you want darling, you know I do. So just give in and. Let Me.

He grinds down onto them and the cot shakes again when they try to grab onto something steady. Try to grab onto him.

He leaves no remorse when he pushes into them ignores their thighs trembling squeezing around his waist. With no air in their lungs their voice has one place left to go.

God-

The voice in his head has him pause immediately, cruel smile showing those sharp teeth.

There’s my warden. All it took was a little pressure.

Satisfied he sets a brutal pace leaving choked whines and moans in his head each one inspiring him to go faster, harder to bend and break them to his will. His hand dips down to win their little bet before time runs out to feel them tighten around him as they finally push off the edge they were led to.

Vega still grinds his hips into them as they come back down their hands gripped onto the fragile metal of the cot as they try to pull away from the overstimulation. Unsatisfied with their hesitation of his reward he tightens his grip on their throat.

Now give me what is mine.

Tears fight to leave their eyes as he grinds down into the sensitive spot leaving their body shaking, they let go of that second nature magic. Horns fill the empty spot, inhuman eyes replacing the ones they chose. His eyes dilate at the sight of them hand abandoning their throat to grab their hips with both, pounding into them feverishly. Their hands no longer bound as he loses focus on anything but them, their body, how they truly look.

Their hands immediately seek his horns again pulling him down over them, breaths ghosting each other’s lips as he takes in the sight they so rarely allow.

Beautiful, perfect, mine. Mine. Mine.

A hand abandons their hip to grab a horn ripping a moan from their mind before he goes to mark his territory with bruises on their neck. Their own hand draws vicious scratches down his back bucking up into him until they reach that high again. He follows soon after them horn pressed against their cheek when he bites at their collar bone as if to muffle himself.

The two lay beaten from the moment, for once they don’t mind his cool skin so close.

Not as elegant of horns as I thought my warden would have. A human may even call them brutalist, you look like a warlord my dear. My beautiful rough warden, you could certainly take a beating, maybe you have.

His hand rubs at the base of their horns, smiling when they instinctively lean into it. They cannot remember the last time someone even saw their horns let alone touched them so gently.

Rest my darling, but do not hide yourself from me again. I will not be so gentle next time I have to teach you.

Tough crowd.

You look so good losing,

You taste delicious,

You could be a sex demon with a body like that you’d never struggle to feed.

I didn’t know you could be such a rough lover my darling.

Their hand retreats as they find the strength to take in air again.

That wasn’t a complaint but I understand your performance anxiety.

“Sh-shut up,” they struggle through when he picks up his work just to spite them.

Oh I do love those eyes of yours it’s a shame you’ve become so insistent on hiding the most extravagant parts of yourself.

All it takes is a nip at their thigh to bring them right back to focus.

You know I don’t like being ignored darling, especially not by my pretty little pet.

That voice sends a shiver down their spine every time, chilling how he’ll react with such coolness. It’s like rifting to the Artic from Puerto Rico.

You won’t be complaining soon. Eyes on me.

Despite the urge to look away they watch him set kisses down their stomach biting the second they start to think of anything but how his piercing eyes have locked onto their gaze.

When his fingers sink back into them, they want to curse the fiend out, he cannot possibly run so cold, and the smirk given to them when they jump is just evidence of his mischief.

They are panting merely out of the habit of imitation trying to communicate a simple question. “What-“

The deal was if I get you to orgasm within nine minutes, I get to have you as I want you tonight. I’ve got plenty of time left my warden, and I want to hear you.

My obsession with what, my dear.

His lips catch theirs sharp teeth and his passioned grip on their hips slowly moving their legs up until they can feel their thighs on their stomach.

Let me hear you.

Bastard. A hand abandoned their thigh to take their throat in his hand, they both know breathing is optional, but their habit is hard to kick anyways.

He fights back that more sadistic side of him but still growls in their mind when his hand tightens around their throat.

I want to give you what you want darling, you know I do. So just give in and. Let Me.

He grinds down onto them and the cot shakes again when they try to grab onto something steady. Try to grab onto him.

He leaves no remorse when he pushes into them ignores their thighs trembling squeezing around his waist. With no air in their lungs their voice has one place left to go.

God-

The voice in his head has him pause immediately, cruel smile showing those sharp teeth.

There’s my warden. All it took was a little pressure.

Now give me what is mine.

Their hands immediately seek his horns again pulling him down over them, breaths ghosting each other’s lips as he takes in the sight they so rarely allow.

Beautiful, perfect, mine. Mine. Mine.

The two lay beaten from the moment, for once they don’t mind his cool skin so close.

His hand rubs at the base of their horns, smiling when they instinctively lean into it. They cannot remember the last time someone even saw their horns let alone touched them so gently.

Rest my darling, but do not hide yourself from me again. I will not be so gentle next time I have to teach you.

#redacted asmr #redacted audio

11 notes · View notes

agentcable · 1 month

Text

Chicago Fire Season 6 Ep. 1 "It Wasn't Enough"

In Season 6, the squad is trapped in a burning warehouse. Chief Boden makes a risky decision to save them. Dawson deals with her father, who has new plans.

If you want to watch the series for yourself, stop reading! This post contains spoilers to the storyline.

Herrmann is trying to save Mouch while the team tries to escape a burning building. Lt. Matt Casey talks to his wife, EMS Gabby Dawson. He tells her she's the best thing that ever happened to him and he loves her. Joe Cruz apologizes to Mouch for being harsh.

Gabby cries as Chief Boden tells the team to take cover as they open the water canons. Cruz yells he will boil them alive, but he says he doesn't have any other choice. Gabby watches as the countdown ends and Herrmann screams as he covers Mouch's body. Once the fire is out, Cruz finds Herrmann still doing CPR on Mouch. Mouch has severe burns on his ears and neck. The Chief sees Lt. Kelly Severide, who doesn't have eyes on Casey. Boden finds Casey by his alarm.

Boden gives Matt Casey the Medal of Valor. Gabi smiles as he is saluted. After the ceremony, Gabby and Casey return home to find her dad, Ramon Dawson, moving out. He thanks them for helping him and asks Gabby to stay. He says he's been a burden. He shakes Matt's hand and thanks him as he says he's moving on. Gabby felt it was sudden, but it was the first time in months they had the place to themselves. They decided to have sex in the living room.

Mouch goes to the firehouse, gets his lunch, and finds a note that says, "Stay away from the food. I'll miss your love handles." Cruz says it's good to have him back. Otis jokes that he didn't see him every day while he was laid up.

Severide sees a man walk by and goes into the lunch room, calling Stella a bitch. He asks her if she can talk smack about him without consequences. She tells him to be a better landlord. He's a bully, and she won't stand for it. He says she has to pay the rent by Friday or else. Stella says she's fine and leaves.

Boden tells Casey people are talking about making him captain. He tells Casey and Severide he found a spot for Jason Kannell for next shift. They are interrupted by Chief's wife, Donna. She needs encouragement for her new job, from teaching grade 4 to high school.

Sylvie tells everyone about her friend coming to town and wants them to party with her. The guys initially turn her down, but when her friend arrives, Cruz and Otis vie for her attention, but she is distracted by Severide. Mouch tries to talk to Severide about working out, but he's also watching Brett and her friend. Cruz gives Mouch Browns' tickets.

Gabby is happy for Casey, but he says being Chief is all about politics. He doesn't want any more of that. Gabby looks worried when he leaves. Matt and Kelly are on the roof smoking cigars when a man runs towards the firehouse with his daughter, asking for help. They go down the ladder and call for Sylvie and Gabby. They see the girl is bleeding.

Casey holds the father back. He asks if his daughter will be blind. Gabby says they need to help her breathe. They learn she was eating a hot dog and Sylvie removes it. She coughs, and the father is grateful she's alive. They take her by ambulance.

Later that night, Sylvie and her friend arrive at Molly's. Sylvie warns her that he isn't the best guy. His girlfriend recently passed away. Stella hears and goes to the back where Otis asks her to cover for him in a design class. She can't, since she's been evicted and needs a new place. Otis says she can sleep on the cot in the bar.

Severide runs into Hope, Sylvie's friend, in the bathroom. She gives him her number and tells him to text her anytime. He smiles at her. Ramon comes to Molly's to say hello and promises to keep them posted. He says he spoke to Chaplain Orlovsky and Gabby hasn't been by to see him. He says he isn't a counselor, but maybe that moment she thought she lost Matt created a crack and now others are forming. He doesn't know, but if she doesn't fix these cracks, they'll all fall apart. He encourages her to talk to someone. She says she doesn't need help.

Herrmann and Brett walk into the locker room and wonder why Stella showered there. Otis says she was kicked out of her apartment for being a bad tenant. Severide hears them but doesn't say anything. Mouch asks Herrmann to hold his feet while he does sit-ups, but Cruz helps. Herrmann asks Mouch to forgive Cruz and let him move on.

The chaplain comes to the firehouse looking for Gabby, but she hides. Mouch sees a poster for the Firefighter Muster, but the alarms go off and everyone is called out to the school Donna works at. Boden leaves before everyone else. Severide and Casey talk to their teams about the fire and the kids. Boden learns his wife ran towards the fire in the chemistry lab. As they leave, Boden calls for his wife. Just as he sees her, there's an explosion. Donna is with students in a corner. Casey asks Boden if he's okay. Boden orders him to get his wife. Boden and Donna go to the room. The chemistry teacher is still there. Casey and Severide carry the teacher out. EMS takes her to the hospital. Everyone is okay. Donna goes with the teacher.

Mouch says he has just signed up Firehouse 51 Second Shift for the Firefighter Muster. He is the coach; a few of them grumble. He has almost given up the second greatest thing in his life because he felt a little run down. When he was dying in the fire, he felt he hadn't spent enough time with his wife, Trudy Platt. He never wants to feel like that again. Herrmann hugs him and says they will be there. Casey announces it is mandatory. Kelly leaves work and sends Hope a message as she talks to Sylvie about her life. Sylvie is excited to go dancing, but Hope lies to her when she catches her texting.

Stella comes to Severide's door. He says she looks lost. She was about to make a smart comment, but then realizes she has nowhere to go. She thanks him for letting her stay and says she'll be gone soon. He says he'll tease her, and she says he can do whatever he wants. He says there's beer in the fridge.

Casey and Gabby are getting ready for a date when he learns her dad got a job. He is happy, but she says, "Don't say goodbye." He says he was going to say something but didn't know what. She wants him to say he'll always come back and she'll believe him. Matt takes her hands and promises to always come back.

At the hospital, Donna says she is still critical and they can only wait and pray. She tells Boden the fire wasn't an accident.

#USA #TV Serie #Action #Emergency #Drama #2017 #One Chicago #Chicago Fire

1 note · View note

babykingdomaustralia · 10 months

Text

Take advantage of amazing discounts by participating in Baby Kingdom's Massive Clearance Countdown! Get the Benefit of an additional 10% discount on a variety of baby necessities that have made Baby Kingdom Sydney the preferred location for more than 27 years. Browse our huge selection of baby strollers, cots, car seats, and more, all at the lowest prices in Australia. Now is the ideal time to shop and save money as we commemorate our legacy of offering superior baby products. Be quick—these incredible offers won't be around for long. Get the savings you and your child deserve when you visit Baby Kingdom today and embrace parenthood!

#car seats #baby car seat #baby products #babyshop #baby stroller

0 notes

firstbabyarrival · 10 months

Text

First Baby Countdown: Elevate Your Parenting Journey with Premium Baby Gear in the UK

Introduction: As the countdown to welcoming your first baby begins, it's time to transform your home into a haven of comfort and safety. This detailed guide is curated specifically for soon-to-be parents in the UK, offering insights into the essential top-quality baby gear that will not only meet but exceed your expectations.

SEO Keywords: First baby checklist, Premium baby gear UK, Nursery must-haves, High-quality baby products, Parenting essentials, Newborn baby gear, Best baby equipment UK

Section 1: Nursery Elegance Creating a nursery that balances aesthetics with functionality is key. Explore the pinnacle of baby gear for your baby's sanctuary:

1.1 Luxurious Crib or Cot: Invest in a stylish and safety-certified crib or cot that sets the tone for your nursery's elegance and provides the utmost security for your baby's sleep.

1.2 Designer Changing Table: Transform diaper changes into a breeze with a chic and efficient changing table that offers both style and practicality.

1.3 Designer Nursery Furniture: Elevate your nursery's ambiance with designer furniture, including a statement dresser, a comfortable rocking chair, and innovative storage solutions.

1.4 Smart Baby Monitor: Opt for a cutting-edge baby monitor equipped with smart features to ensure you're always connected and informed about your baby's well-being.

Section 2: Feeding Excellence Turn feeding time into a delightful experience with premium baby gear that prioritizes both comfort and convenience:

2.1 Advanced Breast Pump: For breastfeeding mothers, choose an advanced breast pump that embraces technology to make expressing milk a seamless and efficient process.

2.2 Designer Bottles and Sterilizers: Indulge in designer baby bottles and a state-of-the-art sterilizer, ensuring your baby's feeding equipment is both safe and stylish.

2.3 Ergonomic Nursing Chair: Experience the epitome of comfort during feeding sessions with an ergonomic nursing chair that provides optimal support.

2.4 Luxury Burp Cloths and Bibs: Keep your baby stylishly clean with luxury burp cloths and bibs crafted from premium, gentle materials.

Section 3: On-the-Go Opulence Navigate the world with your little one in style with top-notch on-the-go baby gear designed for utmost convenience and safety:

3.1 Designer Travel System: Select a travel system that seamlessly combines a chic car seat with a stylish stroller, ensuring your baby travels in luxury.

3.2 Fashionable Diaper Bag: Carry all your baby essentials in a fashionable and spacious diaper bag designed to complement your style.

3.3 High-End Baby Carrier: Choose a high-end baby carrier that not only provides comfort for your baby but also adds a touch of sophistication to your outings.

3.4 Designer Portable Changing Pad: Make on-the-go diaper changes a luxurious affair with a designer portable changing pad that prioritizes both style and functionality.

Conclusion: As you count down the days to your baby's arrival, investing in top-quality baby gear is an investment in your parenting journey. This guide serves as your roadmap to creating a home environment that not only meets the needs of your newborn but also reflects your taste and style as parents. Embrace the excitement of preparing your home with the very best for your little one's comfort and well-being. Congratulations on this beautiful journey into parenthood!

1 note · View note

dayscrazed · 2 years

Text

Chain of Thorns Countdown!

For each day leading up to the release of Chain of Thorns, I’ll be posting one song parody inspired by Rent!

13 days to go: “Out Tonight” POV- Matthew

12 days to go: “Will I?” POV- Jesse, James, Alastair, Matthew & Cordelia

11 days to go: “I’ll Cover You” POV- Lucie & Jesse

10 days to go: “One Song Glory” POV- Thomas & Alastair

One Song Glory

Thomas:

One song Glory One song That’s why I go Glory My friends I leave behind

Find One song One last revenge Glory From the pretty boy tall man Who won’t waste opportunity One song He had the world crashing down Glory With the loss of a young girl A young girl

Find Glory Beyond the dimly lit streets One song Before the sunrise Glory And another ended life

Thomas & Alastair:

Time flies Time dies Glory One blaze of glory One blaze of glory Glory

Alastair:

Find Glory In my words that ring true Truth like a blazing fire So I can stop the shame

Find One song A song about love Glory Unrequited love of a young man A young man

Find The one song Before the killer takes hold Glory Like a sunset One song To redeem this empty life

Time flies And then, no need to endure anymore Time dies

#chain of thorns countdown #cot countdown #chain of thorns #alastair carstairs #thomastair #thomas lightwood #thomas and alastair #chain of thorns parody #cot parody #alastair x thomas #cot #the last hours #tlh

11 notes · View notes

ghost-in-cyberspace · 1 year

Text

Fallout: Lone Wanderer

Prologue- Alpha and Omega

The woman screamed in the medical room. She’s lying on a dusty grey hospital bed, wearing a dirty grey sports bra and a sheet over her thighs. Her dark skin was flushed with sweat, and her greying hair was damp.

“C’mon Catherine.” A man in a scientist’s lab coat, “You can do it honey.”

He urged the woman giving birth. She nods and screams again as her body locks up tight, then relaxes as a crying fills the room.

“You did it Catherine!” The man exclaims as he carries a new born baby over to a clean white cot.

“A baby, we have a baby.” Catherine gasps weakly.

“Let’s see, are you a boy or a girl?” The man murmurs.

“It’s a girl? It’s a girl!” He yells, “We’ve got a daughter, Catherine! A beautiful, healthy baby girl!”

“Oh...oh James,” Catherine murmured, “we did it, a daughter, a beautiful daughter...”

“You’ve got a bright future ahead of you sweetie.” James mused to himself, “I’m sure of it.” He leaned over the cot. “Look at you, look at you. Hi there, sweetheart. I’m your daddy, sweetheart Daddy.” James coos at the baby who blinks blearily at him. “You’re going to need a name, aren’t you?” The baby just wriggles and coughs. “Your mother and how do you feel about the name... Hope Lisa Evans?” Hope blinked, James smiled, “That’s a good name, don’t you think? It suits you perfectly.”

A woman pulled a screen over, it was showing a countdown, like an old-fashioned movie.

“Ah it looks like they’ve finished the gene projection.” James says to Hope, “Let’s see what you’re going to look like once you’ve all grown up.” The screen showed a young woman, with heterochromia; the left eye blue and the other green, and tanned skin under a mop of black hair. She had a thin face.

“Looks like you’re going to look a lot like your dad.” James chuckled as he turned to Catherine. She smiled weakly at the image of her daughter all grown up.

“Ah, so beautiful,” Catherine gasped, “Just like her daddy.” Catherine’s face suddenly goes slack, “James... something’s...something...” Catherine goes limp as the heart monitor rapidly beeps and then gives a flatline tone. James spins around, horrified.

“Catherine, Catherine!” He turns to the woman beside him. “She’s in cardiac arrest. Get the baby out of here. Start compressions. Move, move!” He ordered as he moved to Catherine. Hope was wheeled away as James started to count as he attempted CPR.

#fallout 3 #writing #fanfic

0 notes

samanthamarkle92 · 2 years

Text

Day 1 of my Valentine’s day countdown! Going to start with one of my original works! This is from my post-apocalyptic story, Their Scars. This Collin and Kayla's first interaction when Kayla wakes up from making it to the outpost. It wasn't love at first sight....

"What is your name?" Collin asked.

"Kayla." She whispered. Her eyes closed again.

Kayla's beautiful face was calm, but her hands were trembling. He had given her painkillers so that she could sleep through the worst of the pain. He waited with her for the illness to pass.

He asked himself how he ended up caring so much about a stranger. The anxiety gripped him, sinking him into a mood of self-doubt and depression. In the middle of this, he glanced at the girl in the bed, her fair skin, her straight, long, silken hair, and a well-formed, stern chin.

She stayed asleep until noon the next day. Collin was there as she woke up. Her eyes were wide with fear when she looked at him.

"It's alright, you're safe." He said gently. He went to touch her shoulder in an attempt to comfort her, but she jerked away.

Though still shaky, Kayla was reaching to yank out her IV.

"Don't put any more drugs in me!" she screamed. Collin had to pin her down. She fought him.

"Calm down!" he shouted as he held onto her thin, cold arms. "I'm not going to hurt you. Calm yourself. Listen to my voice."

She was trying to escape, but her strength was fading.

"No! Let me go! Let me go!" she repeated. "Let me go!"

"Kayla, stop being ridiculous! You're in no condition to walk around!" he snapped at her. He couldn't get a hold of her because of Kayla's panic.

"Easy! It's not drugs, it's just a drip to help you get rehydrated."

"Don't touch me! Don't kill me!" She screamed.

She writhed in his grasp, kicking her feet violently.

"Stop, dammit! Calm down!" he shouted at her. "You can't be thinking of getting up and running. You have to lay back down. You need to rest." Her breath was still labored.

Collin made the mistake of turning away. Kayla grabbed his sidearm out of its holster. Collin jumped back, not knowing what she might do. What else do you do if someone grabs your gun?

"Get the fuck away from me!" she cried.

"Please don't shoot me!"

Kayla backed up. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and Collin could see that she was scared. Was she just scared and not thinking straight, or psychotic? Or both? Her breathing became shallow and erratic. Collin could tell that she was terrified, but she refused to show it. He looked at her with concern. Kayla seemed completely unaware of her surroundings and continued to hyperventilate. Did she even know how to shoot a gun? She was obviously afraid of Collin. Collin slowly approached her while keeping his distance.

"Kayla, I swear, I won't hurt you. I promise." He held out his hand to her.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he said softly.

Kayla had the gun in a white-knuckled grip, but she still trembled violently. Collin put his hands up.

"See, I don't have any weapons. Just put the gun on the floor okay? " He pleaded with her, hoping to convince her of his honesty.

Kayla shook her head as tears flowed down her flushed cheeks. She sniffed. "I can't... I can't...I can't...."

"You can't what?"

"I can't go back! They'll find me! They'll kill me!" She yelled at Collin. Collin could tell she was trying to stay calm, but she was scared. Collin could smell the fear on her.

"They? Who will kill you?"

"They are after me!" She sobbed, hysterically. She was shaking all over.

"Kayla, this is a safe place. Whoever is after you, I can look after you. I know people who can take care of you. Just put the gun down, okay?"

Kayla took a few breaths, never taking her eyes off of him. Finally, she set the gun on the floor beside the cot. Collin sighed, relieved. He looked at her.

"Now, where did you come from? Where are you going?" He asked.

He noticed she didn't have the same heavy Aussie accent he did.

"Why would I tell you?" she snarled at him.

"Because I want to help you if you'll trust me." He smiled, trying to put her at ease, but she looked at the floor.

"My name is Collin, Collin Darrow." Collin told her. She stared at the floor, not responding. He continued.

"What are you running from?" he asked.

Kayla looked at him, fear written on her face. Collin paused, wondering what it was. He didn't speak, giving her time to answer. After a few moments passed, he spoke again.

"You don't have to tell me anything, I hope you know you're safe here. I'm not going to harm you. Where are you from?" he asked.

"I was born in the U.S., my parents sent me here after The Fall when I was six or seven; they were told I was going to a school and shelter. It wasn't......." she said, her voice sounding scared and vulnerable. Her eyes cast downward. She broke off as the memory became too painful to talk about.

#wattpad #original character #wattystories #post apocalypse #couple #soldier #heroine

0 notes