#cw: near death experience

[sleepyfan-blog]

Nearly Taking Root

Author’s Note:  this is the second part of mer-Darsas fic! I have borrowed @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan ‘s boi Hura with permission for this fic

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Tagged: @egrets-not-regrets @kit-williams @bleedingichorhearts @the-pure-angel @whorety-k

Warnings: Body Horror, near-death experience, swearing, ask me to tag something if it bothers you

Summary: Darsas finds two little helpers in his garden and one of his dearest brothers comes for a visit.

Darsas hummed happily as he swum through the burgeoning garden of rot that he had been lovingly and patiently tending to for months now. The garden was small and fragile, but Darsas held out hope that with time, effort and the endless patience that Grandfather has taught him, the small space of decay will grow and become a -

“Ehehehe!”

The high-pitched giggle burbled around the diseased reef and through Darsas’ mind. A bright grin pulls at his lips - and the larger mouth that Grandfather had Gifted him on his lower torso purred out “I hear you little one! Won't you come play with me?”

“Who calls us? We hear! We want to play… Will you be nice?” Another voice chittered in his mind and through the water.

“I am Darsas Plagueweaver. Psyker of the Death Guard, humble grandson to the Lord of Rot.”  The space marine rumbled, not entirely surprised as two nurglings peered Up at him from the heart of the garden, where grew the Plague Rose vines. 

The deep green vines dripped with spores and bacteria from their black thorns, pulsing in time to his heartbeats, curled around his previous offerings. He had no willing cultists to feed the garden's heart, nor any worthy captives. But the larger aquatic mammals were sufficient for the task for now, and by the time he needed sentient sacrifices, Darsas Was certain he would have them.

After all, he had seen the baseline humans who regularly visited his gardens, taking samples of his efforts. Their curiosity was understandable, as was their weariness. Ancient Terra was incredibly difficult to create and maintain Works like this without much blood, sweat and tears. He hadn't approached them directly - but he planned to soon.

They definitely seemed like the types to meddle, and baselines though often enthusiastic needed a patient guiding hand to show them the path forwards. He was delighted to see the tiny deamon's faces. Their many sharp teeth and ever-shifting number of eyes as they swam out to meet him with wide grins and happy giggles.

“This world is… Not one we have been able to work in before. Grandfather is grateful that you would seek to bring his Love and Care. We bring you a bowl filled with His Soup, to fortify you. You're practically skin and bones. Our Grandfather would not have you fall into sleep and join him in the Warp too soon.” One of the Nurglings coos while the other cuts its’ belly, it's writhing intestines and brackish blood curled around the bowl of benediction.

Darsas kneels down as far as his large bulk would allow, lovingly patting both Nurgling's head, smiling as their tar-sticky skin clings in clumps to the fused ceramite-skin of his armor. “My thanks, to you both and our Grandfather.” with careful hands, he scoops up the small bowl and tipped it - bowl and boiling stew together - into his larger stomach-mouth.

A soft sigh of satisfaction leaves Darsas as the mind-numbing ravenous Hunger he had been unable to sate from the moment the first Rot Rose Vine began to grow in the heart of his garden. The ragged edges of exhaustion were lovingly removed from his mind and body, and the micro-tremors from how ragged he had been worn from working the hard-fired clay that the Warp felt in this time, on this world. Another dual smile and a deep, thrusting purr rumbled through Darsas as he scooped up both Nurglings, nuzzling them happily “Please send my deepest thanks to Grandfather. I feel much better now.”

“We are here to help! Many souls live on this world, just waiting for Grandfather to embrace them. There are many diseases and parasites that could be empowered with Grandfather's blessings… Many souls in agony, on the brink of fearful oblivion and in need of the gifts that he can give to those loyal grandchildren who follow in his footsteps.” one of the nurglings chirruped happily.

“Oh I know, but I do not move quickly over land. Through the air and in the water, yes. And the mortals here shy away from me, as they fear my visage.” Darsas pointed out with a regretful sigh. He was large for a Chaos astartes and had long since fused with his armor, which was more akin to his skin than anything else.

The scent of putrid Rot and decay followed Darsas wherever he went, the scent strong enough to nauseated most mortals who got within thirty feet of him. The spikes on his armor and the way his fins could stretch and Warp to suit his needs bothered many of his cousin astartes as well, if the low-level headache one of the lingering blessings of Nurgle didn't drive them away. It wasn't as if Darsas could help to be the way that Grandfather had altered his body and psychic gifts to be of better service.

And serve Darsas did, the memories of Father's long years of defiance and horror as he and his brothers were… Made examples to The Reaper, of why defying Grandfather was the height of foolishness. But that had been long, long ago and whatever his initial feelings on Back Then had long since faded.

“Worry not, Darsas! For we can alter our forms to be able to move quickly over land, and to mortals we will look pleasing to their eyes unless we choose not to!” The healing nurgling burbled up at him happily. 

Darsas beamed and gently patted the injured nurgling, setting it back down within the Heart of the Garden, allowing the vines to wrap around his body, it’s thorns sinking deeply into his flesh, as it drank his blood.

“Darsas?” One of his nearest and dearest Brothers called out.

“Over here, Hura.” Darsas called out over vox, his voice weakening as the thorny vines constricted further around his body. Grandfather’s stew kept the pain away, and it the pressure felt pleasant as the blood loss made him feel floaty. Shadows were starting to lengthen and deepen as the Apothecary came into view. Why was the other horrified? Darsas was fine, really, and the Nurglings giggled and clapped delightedly, dancing at where his tail touched the decaying reef. The sweet relief of sleep was incredibly tempting. “I’m… So tired, Hura…  Been working on this garden all by myself… Younglings all wandered off.”

Hura was frowning for once, and the usual smile on his face was missing. He was… Cursing? Angrily as he hacked and slashed at something with his power sword. “Oh absolutely fucking not, Grandfather damn it all, Darsas why didn’t you tell me that you had a Hungry Plague Heart that needed feeding? I would have been able to procure for you an appropriate sacrifice. You didn’t need to pull something like this.”

“Huuuuraaa stop being maaad! Grandfather gifted me a bowl of Soup… I feel great.” Darsas murmured, feeling something leafy and verdant on the back of his tongue, for reasons he couldn’t begin to guess. “Look! Hura! Nurglings!” He pointed at the two little ones who’d scrambled behind him, peering up at Hura, their faces shifting.

“He is hurting the heart! We must stop him!” One nurgling cried out, frightened.

The injured one rushed at the Apothecary, trying to grab at the other’s tail “Stop it! Stop it! We were going to play a game and you’re ruining it! Stop iiiit!” They begged.

Hura glanced down at the Nurgling pawing at his tail and sent the tiny demon flying into a large sandstone rock, the force with which the Apothecary had used enough to cause the little demon to splatter into a puff of warp-energy and necrotic rock. “I will not let you take my brother from me. It is not his time yet to join Grandfather.”

The other nurgling whimpered and looked up pleadingly at Darsas “Please help me! Why is your friend being so mean? I thought he would be nice, like you.”

“He is nice. I don’t know why Hura is being so strange… ‘Urrie, you need to calm down. ‘M fiiine! I promise.” Darsas reassured the very unhappy apothecary, reaching out a shaking hand to cup Hura’s face, to get his attention.

“You really aren’t, Darsas. I was worried when our brothers mentioned that you’d been withdrawing from them. I didn’t think you’d pull something like this. Sar. You stop fussing and let me do what I must.” Hura growled - actually growled - at him.

Genuinely stunned and taken aback, Darsas obediently kept still, unable to process the frantic pleading of the remaining nurgling - who’d gotten sliced in half by a stray swing of Hura’s blade when it tried to step between Darsas and the irate apothecary.

Eventually, Hura sheathed the blade and pulled Darsas into his arms, still growling softly. “Don’t you dare fall asleep until I tell you to. I will wake you up if you do.”

“No… Promises. I’m so tired, ‘Urrie.” Darsas mumbled as the darkness took him.

[indulgentdaydream]

Can you write something where the reader is badly injured in some way and jason rushes her to the manor for help and everybody is confused on who she is bc they didnt even know he was in a relationship (despite them being together for awhile) but they see how soft and cute he is with her. (I’ve never made a request so sorry if it got kinda rambley)

anon you’ve got me TEEMING with ideas I LOVE the trope of nobody knowing jason has a girlfriend and they find out but it is NOT by Jason’s choice nor reader’s.

Also omg? Your first ask is to lil ol me?? That means this is a special occassion. And you’re doing great I’ve def sent worse asks.

Out of the Bag

Jason Todd x Fem!Reader || Hurt and Comfort.

Word Count: 1,862

Warnings: Injuries, swearing, near death experience, blood, knife mention, stabbing, canon-typical violence, use of pet names (princess, baby), drug (pain med) use

You were sat in an alleyway, vision going in and out.

“Tell me something, princess. Anything.” Jason’s voice rang out in your ear.

That’s right. In your right hand, you held your phone, to your ear. Your other hand was pressing the fabric of your coat to the side of your stomach. The blood had soaked through, becoming sticking on your palm and fingers.

You should’ve listened to Jason. You shouldn’t have walked home alone, at night. Luckily your phone had been in your pocket and not your purse, which had been stolen from you by the same guy who decided to stab you.

“Princess,” he sounded panicked.

Right. “Wish I had kicked him harder.”

You heard a sigh of relief leave him, “That’s my girl.”

The phone slipped from your grip a little as your head swam. The sight of blood coming from your own abdomen made no help in quelling your nausea.

You fixed the phone. You had called Jason the second the guy ran off, leaving you to bleed out. He was driving, you think. Tracking your phone to try and get to you. “How far?”

He said something you didn’t hear. Your vision was swimming, your side was aching, and you couldn’t help but keep this funny understanding out of your mind that you were dying.

That this is something Jason had come back to your apartment with a few times, claiming it was nothing. It was something.

You heard him call your name, “What’s around you?”

“I’m tired,” you mumbled.

It seemed to happen in a blink of an eye. Jason was trying to tell you to stay awake, to look at the alley around you. To look out towards the street and tell him what you saw. Then he was there, standing in front of you, his helmet hiding his face.

“I’m here. I’m here, baby.” He cupped your face, tapping your cheek to get you to open up your eyes. He crouched down, pulling your hand from your side to assess the damage.

You smiled lazily and leaned forward, resting your forehead against his shoulder.

Jason muttered a slew of swears as he pressed something soft yet hard against your agonizing wound. You let out a yelp before Jason was picking you up, placing you on his bike.

He’s talking fast, “Fuck. Okay, listen to me. We’re going to go somewhere new, okay? There’s nowhere around here except there for me to get you safe.”

You passed out nearly as soon as he started the bike.

Jason’s freaking. He had tried to keep you safe from anything like this. From everything less than this. And here you were, bleeding out in his arms as he carried you through the batcave. He beelined for the cots and the medical supplies off to the side. He knows his motorcycle couldn’t have been the smoothest of rides for someone in your condition, but it’s all he had in such a short time span.

He’ll apologize when you wake up.

When. He repeats. When she wakes up and when we can get the hell out of this place again and when I can remind her I love her.

No one was back from patrol yet. He set you down on the cot before tearing off his helmet. He tossed it aside, pulling out a med bag and ripping it open. He pushed up your shirt, examining your side and where he had placed the military-grade gauze pad. He curses at the amount of blood.

His hands are shaking. Jason’s hands don’t shake, but you’ve proven to him a lot of things you could make him do that he hadn’t known he was capable of in the last year and (almost) a half of your relationship.

Jason nearly drops the suture thread before another hand is reaching out from just behind him. It catches the thread and Jason looks back over his shoulder. Alfred’s there, moving up to you.

“Allow me. You keep checking her vitals.”

Jason hadn’t even heard him come up. He’s nodding, stepping back to let Alfred take over the stitching. He moves to the other side of the bed.

That’s when he catches sight of the dark figure moving closer from behind Alfred. Jason immediately fixes him with a deadly glare, pointing at Bruce, “Do not come closer!”

Bruce stills. He’s in his bat suit, his cowl hanging behind his head, exposing his face. He looks down to your body, “Who is she?”

Jason doesn’t want him here. Rather, he doesn’t want to be here. You should’ve been home by now. Getting ready for bed and sending him a goodnight text. He turns his gaze back to you.

There’s some hair across your face that he hadn’t noticed. He moves it out of your way without a second thought, “My girlfriend.”

“Finally feel some remorse for sending someone to their grave, Todd?” Damian’s voice spoke up, walking up and stopping beside Bruce, “He’s probably trying to just reverse what he did.”

Jason ignores him. He wants to yell, scream, and maybe shoot the little bastard, but he was right. In a way, this was his fault. He didn’t look after you. He should’ve offered you a ride. Called you a taxi. An uber. Anything.

Jason grips your hand into his. It’s a way to count your heartbeat, and another way to ground himself. To reassure that you’ll be okay. His other hand stays on your cheek. His thumb gently moves back and forth, stroking your skin.

He barely registers Bruce telling Damian to go wash up. When the brat is gone, Bruce speaks up again, “What happened?”

Jason doesn’t take his eyes off of you, “She was walking home from her friend’s. A mugger got her purse, she fought back. He stabbed her.” Jason takes a deep breath, “She still had her phone. She called me. I brought her here because it was closest.”

A beat of silence. Still stitching you up, Alfred speaks, “How come we’ve never been introduced?”

Jason shakes his head, “I didn’t want her near any of this. She’s bad off enough sticking with me.”

Once you stabilize, Jason brings you up to his room in the manor. He walks past Dick, Tim, Duke, Cass, and Steph without looking at them. They sit around the batcomputer, watching Jason gently carry you out ot the cave.

He changes you out of your dirty clothes once he makes a run back to your apartment to grab you some of your own spare clothes.

Asides from that, he doesn’t leave your side.

He lets you have the bed to yourself. He pulls up a chair beside it, waiting for you to wake up. He didn’t want you to be alone when you did, in a strange place after a traumatic event. It was a recipe for disaster.

The sun’s been up for a long while and Jason hasn’t budged. He sits there, your hand gripped in both of his, held up and pressed against his mouth. His lips brush over your knuckles whenever he speaks up. Uttering a “I’m sorry.” every now and then.

There’s a light knock at the door before it’s cracking open. Jason turns his head to find Dick poking his head in. Jason glares at him.

Dick steps further in, presenting the tray he was holding. There were two glasses of water, some solid foods, and lighter ones, probably for you. Jason looked back down at you, letting his older brother enter.

“Just… figured since you’ve been cooped up in here all day,” Dick begins, setting the tray down on the beside table beside Jason.

Dick moves back around. He stands at the end of the bed, leaning against the tall bed post that was meant to hold up a canopy. “I heard…” he trails off, before nodding and your body in the bed, still unconscious, “Who is she?”

Jason looks up at his brother, not letting go of your hand, “So you haven’t heard.”

Dick rolls his eyes, “You know what I mean.”

Jason raises his brows a little. He looks back down at you. His hand reaches out to brush along your forehead, moving away imaginary stray hairs, “My girl.”

Dick nods in understanding, “How long you two been together.”

Jason pauses in thought, “Over a year. Our anniversary was in December.”

A small, choked sound comes from outside the door, in the hallway. “A year?”

Jason looks up at Dick, who makes a face that shows he’s knows he’s been caught.

“Are they seriously listening right now?”

Steph poked her head in first, an apologetic smile on her face, “We wanted to know!”

Duke pokes his head in next, just above Steph’s, “And we wanted to meet her.”

Tim’s head in next, above Duke’s, “You can’t carry a random bleeding woman into the cave and expect the family of detectives to not be curious.”

Cass’ head appears below Steph’s. She nods in agreement.

Jason let’s one hand go of yours to wave his hand through the air, “What the fuck? She’s not even awake!”

“Well that’s why we sent Dick as bait.”

“For the record,” Dick held up a finger, “They built off of my original, innocent idea of bringing you snacks.”

“Jesus Christ,” Jason stands up, taking a few steps forward. He points them all back towards the door as they start to filter into the room, “Get—“

“What’s going on…?”

Jason’s whole body whipped back around at the sound of your groggy, rough voice. The others watch as he’s back at your side in a millisecond, his whole demeanour changed. “Hey, you’re okay. Everything’s okay. Remember how I said we were going somewhere new? You thirsty, baby? Here, I got you some water.”

“Oh, you certainly did not get the water,” Dick piped up.

Jason glared back over his shoulder as he held the glass of water for you, keeping the straw Dick had added placed in your mouth.

You stopped drinking, your eyes now on the other people in the room. You turned your head, propped up against pillows Jason had put there for you. You weakly raised your left hand to wave, “Hi… oh?” your gaze turned down to your hand. A heart monitor clip sitting on your finger grabbed your attention. You gave a confused pout at it, “I feel funny.”

Jason set the water aside again. His glare was gone. He leaned in, kissing your forehead, “You’re hopped up on pain meds. That’s why, princess.”

“Damn,” Steph spoke up, “I wish I got the literal princess treatment.”

Jason turned back around, pointing out the door, “Get. Out. Leave my girlfriend alone until she’s better.”

You looked at the strangers, pointing at Jason with your left hand, “I’m his girlfriend.” Your head tilted back against the pillows as you stared up at Jason, pursing your lips, "I’m tired.”

“I know,” Jason said softly. The others began to filter out of the room as he leaned down and gave you a soft kiss, this time on the lips.

From the exit, a collective, “Awwww,” sounded out.

“Out!”

Your drugged up voice came after his, once they were all back in the hall, “Nice to meet you!”

[cherrirui-official]

Uhm uhm uhhh INCREDIBLY self indulgent Trolls Au that's centered around John Dory and Bruce called Beach Bros bc I like them and I think there should be more content surrounding them as a duo *looks at you with my big wet eyes*

EXTREMELY short explanation + design refs under the cut! CW for mentions of drowning

There's a lot I got planned for it but for now the basics is that after I'd say around 8-10 years after Brozone split up, John Dory received the postcard that Bruce sent him. Now bc JD believed none of the other trolls were alive (since he went back after all the pop trolls escaped Bergen Town and found the Troll Tree empty) JD was ECSTATIC to find out that at least one of his brothers was still alive and immediately began searching for Bruce. Took him about a couple of days but eventually JD managed to locate Vacay Island!

And then almost drowned while crossing the waters... On Bruce's fucking wedding day.

After that ordeal, JD decides to live with Bruce and Brandi on Vacay Island!

Again there's a LOT more to it but it's late and I am extremely tired, I'm gonna go to sleep lol. ALSO if y'all have any questions abt the au, feel free to ask! I'd be more than happy to answer them as best as I can :] !!!!

(also while making designs for them I accidentally made JD look much younger than Bruce I think, oops 😔)

[pincushionx]

“Failed assassination attempt”

Cw, Blood

(Click on image for higher quality)

I’d imagine there was all sorts of assassination attempts in the emperors coven, including on the Golden Guard, but our boy is very much alive by the end of the series, so that means he came out alive in the end, victorious. Too bad victory can be quite messy.

I’ve basically become the Hunter angst artist at this point lol. I love torturing this boy. (I’ve been watching invincible and I’m crafting all sorts of ideas ^u^)

This was timed very weirdly

[discard-celestia]

lestat de lioncourt - on the deer which runs faster than itself. Hélène Cixous, Stigmata / Anne Rice, The Vampire Lestat / Interview with a Vampire (2022) / Catherine Malabou, Ontology of the Accident / Czeslaw Milosz, New and Collected Poems: 1931-2001 / Louis Moe, Allegory / Ovid, Metamorphoses / Ethel Cain, Ptolomea / The Company of Wolves (1984) / Lingua Ignota, I WHO BEND THE TALL GRASSES / Hugh Parry, Ovid's Metamorphoses: Violence in a Pastoral Landscape.

[nerdanel01]

Death

Emmrich Volkarin/F!Rook 1.5k+ wc | SFW Possibly as a result of the massive breach in the Veil to the south, the Necropolis is more dangerous than ever. When Agnes is wounded while on patrol, Emmrich is forced to take drastic measures to protect her. EXCERPT: Impossible not to feel it, then. Emmrich’s magic, coursing through her body. Emmrich’s hands, firm on her chest, pushing her spirit back into her flesh before it got too far away—pushing air into her lungs, pushing life back into her veins. 

Agnes tried to speak, but her throat was so dry she had to swallow and try again. “Was I dead?”

9:42 Dragon

High heat of summer in the west, the rashvine-in-snow just beginning to bloom—ladybugs and fireflies seeking refuge from the sun in the cool pockets of the flower’s petals. Agnes, plenty cool herself, her skirt soaked through with mud to her waist, sang an invented song under her breath, her tiny hands sculpting the mud around her into taller and taller spires. Maman towering above her, driving into the fertile earth the wooden stakes she had sharpened herself, gently girding the dahlias against them for support. Young, loved, and protected. Still wrapped in the romantic fiction mother had woven to shield her from an uglier truth: that her father had loved her mother; that he was a kind and gentle man, employed in the stable of a neighboring estate. 

“Ma chère,” her mother called her. Agnes looked up. But the noontide sun was directly overhead, silhouetting her mother’s sunhat, obscuring her face in shadow. “You are being called.”

Agnes only felt it when her mother called attention to it: a strange nagging, an unwelcome plucking feeling in the center of her chest. 

“Agnes! Agnes Gallatus!”

Who was shouting after her so rudely, when she was having such fun with her Maman? A childish, resentful pucker on her face, she cast her eyes downwards in the direction of the voice. The mud beneath her had vanished, and Agnes found she was hovering above a narrow, vaulted chamber, flanked on either side by high columns of quartz, carved in the image of skeletons holding the roof aloft. A figure was hunched over on the stone tile below her, a tempest of powerful magic crackling in the air around them. 

‘Emmrich…?’

The moment Agnes recognized him, the plucking feeling in her chest swelled and snapped.

Someone’s hands pressed too firm against her chest. 

Violent gasp of breath. 

Agnes wrenched herself upright, heaving, fighting the oxygen-starved ache in her muscles. Blinking the darkness from her vision, her eyes rolled wildly around the room as she fought for air. When her heart began to beat anew, pounding madly, the last ebb of adrenaline washed over and through her. Something was terribly, terribly wrong—

“Agnes, thank the Maker! No, dear, don’t fight it, relax, lie back down…”

Emmrich’s hand was firm on her shoulder, supporting her as she lowered herself back onto the cold Necropolis floor. His other hand bunched his leather overcoat behind her head, a makeshift cushion to pillow it against the tile. 

But Agnes could not relax. Pain wracked every inch of her body, and she could not shake an overwhelming sense of impending danger and doom. Emmrich’s words were reassuring, but his tone was anything but—she was not sure she had ever heard him sound so uncertain, or so frightened. He looked absolutely wretched, perspiration dripping down his face, his expression lined with grief and determination in equal measure. A phosphorescent flame was fading fast from his eyes, but Agnes caught it, nevertheless.

‘Oh.’

Impossible not to feel it, then. Emmrich’s magic, coursing through her body. Emmrich’s hands, firm on her chest, pushing her spirit back into her flesh before it got too far away—pushing air into her lungs, pushing life back into her veins. 

Agnes tried to speak, but her throat was so dry she had to swallow and try again. “Was I dead?” The words came out as a hoarse, thin rattle. An almost spiritual look of relief washed over Emmrich’s face when he heard her voice.

“You are alive now. That is all that matters. Keep breathing, you should begin to feel better in just a few minutes…”

Alive now. Implying quite strongly there had been a period—Agnes could not say how long—that she had not been alive. She struggled through the fog of pain to recall what exactly had happened.

The ride down into the Necropolis in the morning… she remembered that. That was how every day started, now, after all. No more weeks-long research expeditions among the crypts and tombs. Ever since the Breach had opened in the south months ago, the disturbances within the Necropolis had grown too frequent and too great for such a risk. All of the Watchers were now deployed in shifts, with the express and sole purpose of policing the halls. There had always been a risk of encountering demons in the Necropolis, but lately, the peril had multiplied.

And then, it all came back to her in flashes: the pride demon they had found prowling among the tableaus of the dead, and the fight that ensued. The demon’s lightning that had shattered her barrier and struck her square in the chest, stopping her heart. The world growing dark, the demon’s fist raised to strike her down for good. Emmrich’s shout, the glow of his eyes, the crackle of magic tingling in the air as he seized possession of his thrall.

The forceful push of Alfred’s bony hands, flinging her down and out of the way of the pride demon’s strike.

‘Oh, no.’

“Emmrich… I’m so, so sorry.”

Emmrich looked at her quizzically. “You have nothing to be sorry for, Agnes.”

“But Alfred…”

She turned her eyes pointedly to the pile of splintered bone and dust just a few feet away: all that remained of the thrall after the pride demon had struck it down, his pitiful, characteristic wailing silenced forever.

“...you had been working on him for years. Emmrich, you must be devastated.”

Emmrich’s face tightened, eyes narrowing, brows knitting together. The muscle in the corner of his jaw gave a little jump. “You cannot be serious,” he said, shaking his head. His gaze had never left her face; he had not so much as glanced at Alfred’s paltry, decimated remains. In fact he looked concerned, as though he was suddenly doubting how thoroughly he had reanimated her, for her to think such an absurd thought. “Agnes, Alfred was a project. A beloved project, to be sure, but a project nonetheless. I can begin again. Begin better, this time.”

Then Emmrich leaned over her, lifting his hands to frame her face. His palms were so warm against her skin, his thumb so gentle as it traced the plains of her cheekbones… his gaze so impossibly tender and wounded. 

“But you… if I lose you, I cannot get you back.” 

There was a terrible crack in his voice, as though he was close to tears. Agnes did not know if she wanted more to embrace him, or to sink through the floor and disappear entirely. She was so moved at how deeply he cared. She was so mortified at how her incompetence (she should have seen the lightning coming, should have reinforced her barrier before it hit) had caused him such pain and fear.

An unsteady exhale shook him. The glow had left Emmrich’s eyes entirely, now, and they were wholly brown, wholly warm, wholly honest with her.

“You are more precious to me than any experiment.” He spoke in a low whisper, as if he was afraid that if he spoke at a greater volume, he would not be able to hold himself together. “I would not trade you for one hundred, one thousand Alfreds.”

And then, Agnes saw it: how much it had taken out of him to restore her; the way it had aged him. For in all the time she had known him, Emmrich’s hair had always been dark: now, it was streaked through with white and grey—not entirely salt and pepper, yet, but markedly lighter than it had been.

He must have noticed she was staring at him. “What is it?”

‘You nearly killed yourself trying to save me.’ “You’ve lost a bit of color.”

“Oh,” Emmrich said, indifferently, reaching up to run a hand through his hair. “Have I?”

“It looks good,” Agnes told him, forcing a thin smile. “Elegant. Distinguished.”

Emmrich laughed low in disbelief. “You flatter me. I look more like an old man than ever, now, I am sure.” He lifted his other hand from her face and stretched, joints cracking as he did so; Agnes repressed the urge to catch it, to hold it fast against her face. “I certainly feel like an old man after that effort. Agnes, I dearly want to get you back to the other Watchers as soon as possible—you should visit the infirmary, just to be safe—but, forgive me, I need to rest first, just for a moment.”

Slowly, wincing as he did so, Emmrich lowered himself to the filthy floor next to her, a little cloud of dust kicking up when the back of his head came to rest at last on the tile. Emmrich was not quite as draconian in his need for order as Agnes, but he liked to keep things clean; he must have been truly exhausted, then, if he felt the need to lie down in the dirt to recover his strength. His eyes slipped closed, and his breathing slowed. Agnes thought he might drift off to sleep.

“Thank you,” she said, interrupting him before he could. “For saving my life.”

Emmrich’s upper lip gave a small twitch, then his bottom lip began to tremble. Even with his eyes closed, he looked so terribly upset. Without opening them to look at her, his hand quested across the dusty tile floor until it found her own, and closed tightly around it.

“For a moment,” he confessed, “you were entirely beyond my grasp, beyond my ability to reach. I was not sure I would be able to bring you back to me. You have no idea…” his voice trailed off and he squeezed her hand. “How good it feels, now. How reassuring. To feel you, to hear you, warm and breathing next to me.”

At that, Agnes was thankful Emmrich’s eyes were closed. She could not control the emotions raging across her face; could not imagine how deeply they betrayed her, with all Emmrich’s words pirouetting through her head. How he had called her precious, held her face, was still holding her hand. This sweetness, this intimacy–she had always longed for it. Still longed for it. But each breath she took still felt like knives cutting into her lungs; a reminder with each inhale of how close they had come to losing one another for good. 

How lucky she was! To have Emmrich’s love in any capacity. For if there had been any lingering doubt in her mind that he did, indeed, love her, it was now banished. That he did not, perhaps, love her in the way that she truly desired, did not make her cherish that love any less. 

And all she wanted to do, more than hold his hand or touch his face in return, was reassure him. To remain warm, alive, and breathing beside him, for as long as she possibly could. 

“It’s alright now, Emmrich,” Agnes said, and squeezed his hand back. “Rest as long as you need. I’ll keep watch until you’re ready."

[captain-gillian]

seven(ish) sentence sunday

thank you for the tag @ironheartwriter here's roughly seven sentences of a wip

“Marjan’s tough, one of the toughest people I know,” Carlos says as they pass through the sliding double doors to the rear exit of the hospital into a lush, green courtyard. 

“Yes, but she died this time, Carlos. I was right there, and I couldn’t do anything to stop it.” Nancy’s voice wobbles, “Like actually died, dead, no pulse. You don’t just come back from that totally fine.” 

“TK did,” Carlos responds softly to break up the tension, “He had something—someone—to fight for; maybe what Marjan needs is to know she has someone to fight for, too.”

Nancy shifts her weight from one leg to the other, limping slightly as she walks. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“That life is too short to spend the rest of it wondering what might have happened if you’d just told her that you’re in love with her.” Carlos slows his pace, looking directly at Nancy when he talks. “Just tell her, Nancy.” 

“I—” Nancy is lost for words. How did Carlos know? How long had he known? God, was she that obvious?

open tag and zero pressure tagging:

@nancys-braids @pelorsdyke @reyesstrand @carlos-tk @bonheur-cafe

@rmd-writes @welcometololaland @sugdenlovesdingle @literateowl

@lemonlyman-dotcom

@carlos-in-glasses @emsprovisions @eclectic-sassycoweyes @irispurpurea @alrightbuckaroo

@paperstorm @fifthrideroftheapocalypse @pimento-playing-hopscotch

[ur-fairy-of-mimicry]

Guys... what if Brandon once almost died to protect Sky from danger? Let's say he was still a page in this scenario (probably at the age of 13.)

Should I write a short story about it? :>

[mintflavouredwhump]

A whumpee decides to visit their friend's hometown but fall sick due to food poisoning. Due to a lack of proper medical services, they're forced to pull through with just basic care and some medicine from the local pharmacy.

At some point, the whumpee is so weak with illness that one of their friends has to check their pulse every now and then to make sure that they're still breathing.

[3-2-whump]

Reunion/Catching Up

<prev next>

Set two weeks after this incident

TW/CW: honestly, I can't really find any? Allusion to near-death experience?

Nico blinked once. Twice. Pinched his forearm under his work uniform as hard as he could. Nope, no dream. There he was, his dear friend, standing outside the guard shack with a thick jacket draped over his shoulders, waiting for him to begin his shift.

“Well, are you going to let me in? It’s fucking freezing out here,” Khaled said.

Before he could stop himself, Nico enveloped him into a bone-crushing hug. A small pained squeak and the tensing of muscles underneath him made him instantly pull away and apologize.

“It’s just, I didn’t expect to see –but here you are, and–oh my god, dude, I missed you!” His grin felt like it would split his face in two as he waved goodbye to the early morning shift guard and took his place at the control panel. “How have you been? What’s up with you? Wait, can I get you anything?” His eyes sparkled as he remembered the newest toy in the guard shack. “I got a Keurig out here now,” he excitedly announced, wheeling himself in his desk chair over to the little device. “Let me make you something to drink!”

Khaled held up his hands, palm out, as he offered a small smile. “Wait, wait, slow down! What’s gotten into you? You would think I’ve been gone for years or something,” he teased lightly.

“Well, we haven’t seen each other since August,” Nico patiently explained, filling the chamber of the Keurig with bottled water, “and it’s already April! So yeah, excuse me if I’m acting like you just came back from the dead!”

“Speaking of which, I almost did die two weeks ago.”

Nico put down the gaily painted mug he chose for him. It wasn’t so much the absurdity of what he just said, but how seriously his friend had said it. And, for once, Nico couldn’t detect any lie in his voice. He turned from the coffee machine to look up at Khaled. “I’m sorry, what?” he asked.

“Yeah, long story,” Khaled sighed.

Nico made a mental note to review the security footage from two weeks back.

“But it –the whole almost dying thing –got me thinking, and well…" Khaled sighed. "I haven’t been very honest with you in the past, but I want to be, here and now.” His dark brown eyes never left Nico’s. “There’s something I need to tell you, that I should’ve told you a long time ago.”

-

It was a good thing Khaled was kind of dense, otherwise Nico would never have gotten away with his half-hearted really’s, or wow’s, or I never would’ve known’s as his friend finally told him the truth. What he didn’t have to feign, though, was the “what do you mean you got a boyfriend?!”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Khaled backtracked. “We meet up at his place, beat each other up, and fuck, it’s not that big a deal, Nico.”

“Um, excuse me, you’ve been to his place? And fucked? At his place? That sounds like you’re basically boyfriends to me, dude! That’s kind of a big deal!”

A faint little blush scattered across Khaled’s cheekbones as his gaze dropped self-consciously to the mug in his hands. “I mean, it’s more of a garage, honestly. He lives above the garage he works at, there’s like a little loft thing…” He trailed off before drinking the last sip of coffee. “So…” he began to ask, “you’re not jealous that I found someone else or anything?”

The comment threw Nico for a couple seconds. “What? No, no, of course I’m not –Khaled, hey.” He gently reached to take the empty mug from his hands, letting their contact linger as his friend looked up to him. The vulnerable little look transported him back to that time in his car on a warm summer night. Nico chose his next words carefully. “I’m happy for you, really. I’m just glad, and so relieved, that you found somebody when I couldn’t be around.” He genuinely meant it, too. The worst part of their several-months apart separation was imagining Khaled suffering alone with nobody to turn to, which, thankfully wasn’t the case. “He sounds like a great guy –Julio, was it?”

Khaled grinned. “Yeah, and he is. Great, I mean.”

Nico realized he was still holding his hands. He slowly withdrew, finally prying the empty mug away like he had intended to. “Well, let’s hope he keeps being good to you, or else I’ll have to beat some sense into him,” he lightly threatened.

“I’d love to see you try,” Khaled chuckled.

Le Tag List: @kabie-whump @rainydaywhump @whumped-by-glitter @skittles-the-whumpee @generic-whumperz @bamber344 @there-will-always-be-blood @morning-star-whump

[redd956]

Mini Whump Prompt 141

While cave diving whumpee made every stupid decision they could ever possibly make. Stuck and running out of oxygen, a strange monstrous creature came across. A merfolk? A monster? It no longer mattered as the entity understood that whumpees were not supposed to be down here.

[dancingwiththoughts]

Medwhump May Day 9: Trapped Under Rubble

I'll probably make an actual fic of this on my AO3 page, but this was basically meant to fulfill today's prompt.

TW: Blood, dark, gore, near death

Charlie was excited.

She had been upset at first, with the destruction of the hotel and the loss of Sir Pentious, but with everyone by her side, she was ready to rebuild. With her friends by her side, it felt like she could do anything.

They had started to move the rubble away, preparing to break ground for the new establishment. It was going to be bigger and better compared to the old building, and there was lots of work to do.

She had wandered off a bit from the group, looking around. She was attempting to find anything that might have made it through the attack, so she could return it to their rightful owners.

She was towards the edge of where they had been cleaning now. The rubble was stacked high, and she tripped on something soft.

Charlie fell to the ground, letting out a small yelp as she just barely managed to catch herself. Turning around to figure out what she had tripped on, her eyes widened in horror.

A bloodied hand was lying, limp on the dirt. The tattered sleeve made Charlie feel faint. No, it couldn't be-

She frantically began shoving the stones and beams away, her heart thudding in her chest. Soon enough, she saw it. Alastor's face, covered in blood and bruises.

Charlie screamed.

[petrifiedcrange]

❝ The ship can't survive without its unicorn, Iz, ❞ Frenchie says quietly yet matter-of-factly as he wipes Izzy's feverish brow with a cool cloth, lingering for a moment to brush a loose strand off before turning to the side to soak the warmed up cloth in the bowl of cool water again, both his voice and gestures an aching mix of exhaustion, sadness and tenderness, ❝ We'll crash and burn before we ever reach another shore. ❞

There are tears welling in his eyes and he doesn't want Izzy to see them, doesn't want to distress his already overtaxed system even more, so he takes an extra moment to wring the cloth over the bowl while blinking rapidly to get rid of the tears.

And yet, a sob weasels its way into his words as he adds, almost an afterthought ( that sounds far more bitter than it has any right to be ):

❝ I thought you knew that. ❞

[ OPEN for Izzy post-S2 because ouizzy is something else entirely as a ship and I need more of them and because this phrase about the ship and its figurehead/unicorn appeared in my head and I thought that it would suit Frenchie the most because if someone knows about mythical symbolism of figureheads etc, it’s him also, he's upset his boyfriend seems to be giving up ]

[circe-pendragon]

I love Old Black Train because it’s about death but in such a chill way, like. Oh you died? That’s cool but it’s not actually your time yet, I guess you’re having a near death experience or something. That’s okay you can chill here for a bit. Yeah so this is basically purgatory but it’s also a relaxing journey with friendly people and nice things to look at. You can go back now but you’re gonna be back here eventually. Don’t be afraid of death though now that you’ve seen it, it’s not so bad

[cosmicalart]

WIP Wednesday

Scheduled on: 2023-09-12

So this post, along with the rest of the fic, almost didn't happen. I'm perfectly fine now but for those of you interested in my hospital adventure Sunday night, I'll put it under the cut.

Now, I've just about wrapped up chapter two of 'Baz to The Past", I also will have plenty of free time next week, so depending on the progress of chapter three (and how much of chapter two I may need to rewrite) I may be able to start posting the chapters this Sunday on AO3, a whole week earlier than I initially expected.

??? POV

“Fine.” With a huff, Simon stands from his chair and marches out of the room slamming the door behind him. Once his footsteps have faded down the hall, Baz pivots on his heel towards me. “What in Crowley’s name was that? Who’s to say he’s not turning us in right now? You didn’t even seal the deal with magic, there's no consequence if he goes against it!”

Putting tags before the cut this time. IDK who's already posted so no pressure, generous tags to say hello, and if you're not consider yourself tagged if you wanna join.

@aroace-genderfluid-sheep @buffy @thewholelemon @prettygoododds @cultofsappho @fatalfangirl @artsyunderstudy @aristocratic-otter @j-nipper-95 @raenestee @cutestkilla @hushed-chorus @haikuziejacuzzi @larkral @ionlydrinkhotwater @rimeswithpurple @sailor-blossoms @facewithoutheart @valeffelees

Hospital story under the cut

So Sunday night after work I had a small edible, (I need to preface that it was small and half of what I'd usually take because people tried to blame what happened on the edible) Now I also hadn't eaten dinner yet even though it was 9pm and was craving Mcdonalds (I have a stack of free meal coupons because I work there) so my fiance drives us and our friend who was over to Mcdonalds, then we stopped at our friends place cause he ended up deciding to stay the night and wanted to grab some things.

Everything was fine up to this point, weeds kicking in, having a good time, we got back to the house and ate our food, I'm setting up my laptop to get some writing done, things are good. My fiance is watching youtube poops (just random funny youtube videos if you're not familiar) and normally I don't find them that funny but I was laughing cause I could see the tv from where I was setting up.

Now this is where things go bad quickly. I ended up laughing while trying to swallow my burger and choked, I still had food in my mouth as well as food in my throat as I had been swallowing when something in the video just hit me and made me laugh, so I could not breathe now and panicked, like just froze trying to swallow what was still in my mouth while trying to breathe.

I didn't need the Heimlich, it managed to go down on its own and I could breathe again but something didn't feel right. I felt like something was jammed in my chest as well as the back of my nose and it burned. I tried drinking to see if that would clear it like maybe it just felt funny because I choked. That was not it. After a minute I ended up throwing up and a bit of what felt stuck in my chest dislodged and I realized I legit had food stuck in my lungs.

I was immediately light-headed and felt my heart racing (though that was probably cause panic was setting in) so I went to the living room with the cat freaking out at my feet, told my fiance something wasn't right, threw up again, and then they helped me to the couch because I started losing consciousness.

I do not remember the drive to the hospital, I don't even remember getting there, I just have vague memories of a nurse pulling my hair to check if I was breathing, people screaming my name as I blacked out because I wasn't breathing, vomiting several times trying to clear my lungs, and apparently arguing about wanting a fudgcicle on the way home only to then vomit and pass out again.

I had to be informed about what happened afterward because I stopped breathing several times and had my lips turn blue. From the second they put me on the couch to the morning after when I woke up miraculously alive and in bed, I remember nothing.

Joked with @valeffelees that clearly the universe wanted to give me the good ole' fanfic writer "So I almost died" author note

[ebongawk]

🐝 what doesn't kill you (makes you paranoid)

She should have died. Most people die when they fall off the side of a mountain. But Chrissy was alive. Alive and confused and suddenly convinced that she was being watched. That eyes followed her from the shadows. Watching her every move. Following her through the routine of her life that all at once felt so terribly foreign. She had to wonder, what kept her alive that day in the woods? And when would it come back to reclaim the gift it had given her?

fake wip game!