#pip assessment

[bluegoblinfox]

PIP assessor or little Britain character?

Got the report from my pip assessor.

Me: I really struggle to chop veg

Assessor: Yeah but you can drive a manual car so I think you can chop veg.

Me: I struggle to remember to do things, I miss appointments and leave the washing machine unemptied. Forget to eat, drink or pee sometimes.

Assessor: Yeah but you can drive a manual car and you are here at this appointment. So I think you can concentrate enough to do things.

Me: I struggle to communicate and sometimes I can't speak when I'm overwhelmed.

Assessor: Yeah but you are talking now and can drive a manual car. So you can communicate.

Me: I forget to take my meds and only remember when I start to get symptoms

Assessor: Yeah but you drive a manual car and have told me about your conditions so I think you can remember to take meds.

Me: I'm not doing that movement it hurts.

Assessor: Yeah but you drive a manual car and took your Jacket off when you got here. So I think you could do that if you wanted.

Me: I have bad joint pain and right sided weakness.

Assessor: Yeah but you drive a manual car.

I could go on.

I will be challenging the decision.

[headpainmigraine]

Had my PIP assessment

Lady was lovely, but that doesn't mean anything

We spent the first half of my time in dating my diagnosis, which, I think those fuckers lost my last form, the one I filled out last year, because I definitely put my dysautonomia stuff on that, but this one had no clue

Now I have to wait 8 weeks (that's 5 months in DWP terms) to get the rejection letter which I know will come and then starting the appeal process, this system is screwed up.

[susurrationofthewind]

hahaha great cool Nice

[blossom-in]

i knew id struggle with a shared kithcne but i didnt expect to struggle this much... i dont think it helps that i dont even know who im sharing with and it seems like more than the amount of people the kitchen is for are using it? like in a i share with 2 girls i think that already know each other and are 3rd years and make food with some of their friends so the kitchen feels full and i feel way too self concious to go and make my coleslaw wrap

[whoreishghost]

i need to fucking tidy

[thenewsbeat]

DWP Universal Credit, PIP and ESA warning as huge assessments shake-up coming next year

[finnlessshark]

i want to faceplant an ice pick i am so done

[maverickazansky]

thinking about kid logic and how to kids, everything is black and white for the longest time. they don’t have critical thinking skills and its easy for them to just accept things because they have no reason to question it. 

therefore, thinking about bradley’s family realising it one day when he’s with carole and maverick, and bradley just pipping up with,

“uncle mav, when you marry uncle ice, does that mean you’re gonna be maverick man too?”

and (after maverick’s brain stops short circuiting because marry ice marry ice marry ice marry ice marry ICE?!) he just calmly swallows, and asks in an incredibly high pitched voice because he’s still in shock,

“why would i be maverick man?”

and bradley, giving him the obvious look of ‘don’t be silly uncle mav…’ tells him, “well if uncle ice’s surname is man, when you marry him, you gonna be like momma and copy his name. like how momma is momma goose. and i’m baby goose. so you gotta be maverick man like uncle ice is ice man.”

and naturally, once carole and maverick have caught on to his child logic, carole is just cackling in the corner, and maverick is incredibly red because he’s still not over bradley’s incredibly calm assessment that his uncle mav and his uncle ice are going to get married one day (they’ll save explaining why that won't be happening (anytime soon) until he’s older), and maverick has to explain that uncle ice’s surname is actually kazansky and his full callsign is iceman, not just ice. they just call him ice because it’s easier, like how bradley calls him mav because its easier than maverick. 

carole is still no help because she’s already planning the icemav wedding in her mind because ‘excellent idea baby goose!!!”, and maverick then has to explain that actually, bradley’s surname isn’t goose, it’s bradshaw. and momma and daddy’s names aren’t momma and daddy goose, it’s carole and nick bradshaw. 

bradley’s exclaimed shock of WHAT still echoes in maverick’s ear 30 years later whenever he thinks about how he had to explain to a 5 year old bradley that his surname isn’t a cool one like goose, but rather just a normal surname like bradshaw, and that momma and daddy have different names. 

rumour has it adult bradley is still feeling betrayed to this day. 

(slider exclusively refers to maverick as mr man once him and ice do get married purely to be annoying for a long time.)

((maverick does kick him in the shins at least twice.))

[kykyonthemoon]

Distraction

When you need to study for the upcoming Hunter competency assessment, yet his presence becomes your ultimate distraction.

── .✦ Character x Female Reader|MC

Included parts in order: Caleb - Xavier - Rafayel - Zayne - Sylus

Ky Ky's note: I chose this particular order for the LIs based on the time of day that you would meet him:

Caleb - early morning

Xavier - around midday

Rafayel: late afternoon

Zayne: evening

Sylus: night

── .✦ Tags: R16, MDNI, suggestive themes, biting, teasing, pinning, soft fluff, established relationship, study/work date, pet names (pip-squeak, kitten), no y/n - as always.

── .✦ Word count: 5k6

── .✦ Requested by Yue AuV

── .✦ Masterlist ♡ Request a fic

Caleb

You awoke when the sun was still sleeping. Even on break, you had to carry a stack of books home to Grandma to prepare for the critical Hunter competency assessment the following week. The combat skills test was no issue for you. You were apprehensive about the theoretical test. That was the reason you had borrowed more materials from headquarters to study during these spare days.

As you proceeded down the stairs, you noticed heavy breathing in the living room. You were on high alert, clutching the book hard in your palm. With its thickness, a single throw may cause someone to faint on the spot. You walked gently down the final steps and entered the living room.

It was not quite as bright, but you could see everything in the room. On the floor, a person was facing the ground and doing push-ups. His unclothed back, soaked in perspiration, was displayed. You blinked for a second and recognized who it was.

"Caleb?"

He placed one hand on the floor and the other wrapped behind his back. He stopped performing push-ups and returned his attention to you.

"You woke up so early, pip-squeak?"

"When did you get back? I feared the house was being robbed!"

You sighed with relief, walked up to the sofa, and sat down. Caleb continued doing push-ups, saying:

“The train was delayed so I came home late. When I arrived home, you were already asleep, pipsqueak. So I missed the chance to say hi."

“I see. And why are you doing push-ups here?”

Caleb shifted his other hand to the floor. He replied:

“This is my morning practice routine at the Academy. But pip-squeak, you don't know this, right? Because you always sleep until past noon.”

Caleb chuckled, while you aggressively grabbed a nearby pillow and flung it at his back. "You are pestering me again! Every time you return home, it's simply to tease me, right?"

He rose up and turned towards you. His bare chest was exposed to you. When you realized you were staring at it for too long to the point it was not appropriate, you glanced away. 

"What about you?" Caleb asked. “Why are you up so early on a day off?”

You were going to respond but lost what to say as Caleb suddenly leaned in close to you. With one hand, he lifted your book to read the title, while the other moved behind you; his intention left unknown. 

Warmth radiated from Caleb, so much that the air in the room became stifling. Drops of sweat rolled down his face, his neck, his chest, and the muscles in his abdomen. He was right in front of you, only a touch away. His breath caressed your hair and cheeks. Burning.

"Review questions for Hunters?" Caleb commented after rapidly reading the book cover. He gazed at you, who appeared rigid and petrified in place. "Pip-squeak?"

You cleared your throat and coughed. Then pulled the book from his grasp. You explained:

“Well… I have to take the Hunter competency assessment exam next week…”

You hastily covered your face with the book, scared Caleb would see your scarlet cheeks. You also had to rely on the fragrance of papers to help you forget the scent of Caleb's body, which was both familiar and emphasized his masculinity more than ever at the time.

You simply hope the sofa would swallow you up so you would not feel embarrassed anymore. You were used to Caleb, including the fact that he trained his muscles in every possible place in the house. But it did not imply you felt fully at ease when you looked at him in this way. Even after you had confessed your feelings for each other.

Caleb knew what was going on in your mind. Why not, given how it was written on your face? He grinned and patted your head. The hand behind you abruptly took out a towel. He stated: 

"You're leaning back against my towel."

He stood up and backed away with the towel. It turned out that was what he needed, not you. You inhaled heavily. 

"Then let me get another one for you…" 

You murmured. But Caleb brought the cloth to his nose. After closing his eyes, he said:

“Mmh. No need. This towel smells like you.”

Your cheeks burned like fire. You turned fast away.

“Y-You should get back to your push-ups!”

After speaking, you quickly opened the book and pretended to read more. You could hear Caleb laughing in the living room. He said:

“Pip-squeak, you can read books upside down? That is very great of you!"

That's when you realized how ridiculous you were. You swiftly adjusted the book in the correct direction and said nothing else. Caleb returned to his morning workout. Your mind could no longer concentrate. Your gaze was attracted to Caleb's strong physique. He looked to be much more purposeful about exercising in front of you. You exhaled. 

"Caleb, can't you bring your push-ups to the garden?"

"Nope." Caleb reacted quickly, as if he had previously planned his response in case you wanted him out. “I was here first. You came here after me. If someone must go, it should be you."

You did not like to give in, but maybe you needed some cool, fresh air to recharge. You stood up. "Alright. I'll go out. Happy now?"

But as soon as you approached the main door, you felt heat emanating from behind. Caleb approached behind you, his chin resting on your shoulder. He whispered, somewhat petulantly:

“We haven't seen each other for a month. Are you just going to ignore me like that?”

You did not dare turn around, instead said gently: "I can't ignore you even if I wanted to..."

Caleb put one hand on the door, the other hand turned you around so he could look directly into your eyes. The book you clutched in your palm felt increasingly tight as he got closer. Your bare arm brushed against Caleb's toned abdomen. You held your breath while staring at him. 

“So, pip-squeak, how should you welcome me home?”

Caleb gently stroked your chin with his hand. You blushed. The feet automatically tiptoed. You gave Caleb a kiss on the cheek. But it appeared that this gift had left him disappointed.

“Is that all? Do I need to go on duty for another month so you will miss me even more?”

You knew Caleb was teasing you, yet you did miss him a lot. It was just that you were still not really used to intimate contact with him. You looked up at Caleb, his eyes still fixed on you, waiting. Having failed to disappoint him, you stepped on tiptoe again, this time with your lips on his.

Caleb grinned softly. He placed his arms around you and pulled you up against his damp body.

"This is... how a welcome home should be like..." Caleb whispered to you between lengthy kisses.

Xavier

“Have you seen my book anywhere? I think I dropped it.”

Xavier's words echoed out over the coffee table. You looked up from the stack of books and stated:

“Why don't you check on the floor?”

The two of you were not on the sofa, instead, the floor. Xavier leaned down and discovered the half-read book lying under the table. "Here it is!"

You sighed. “Did you fall asleep again?”

"What?" Xavier's perplexed expression resurfaced in your vision. He massaged his eyes. “I didn't sleep… I just closed my eyes to rest a bit and tried to remember the information I just read.”

“Hmm.” You glanced at him. Obviously, you caught him falling asleep when he pledged to study with you.

Long story short, all Hunters must go through a competence assessment. The test included both combat skills and a theoretical test. Hence you had invited Xavier to your flat for a study date. Even a top Hunter like him would have to take the assessment exam.

After barely five minutes of sitting, Xavier asked you: "Is it time to break yet?", and then he felt frustrated when he received a shake of the head from you. 

After that, Xavier was continuously distracted by many things around him, like the sound of a kettle boiling in the kitchen, birds chirping outside the open window, and even neighbors arguing down the street. You had to close the windows so you could concentrate on your studies. Xavier gave you one of his headphones and the review session proceeded well for the next half hour. Then he fell asleep and dropped the book on the floor again.

"Xavier, you're cheating!" You spoke as one hand reached out to pinch his face.

"It hurts."

Xavier spoke with a puppy expression. Even if he were like that, you would continue to review. You cleared your throat and coughed.

"Let us proceed. We have to complete the evaluation tomorrow."

Xavier put up his reading glasses and nodded. You heard him mumble a few questions from the book, followed by a long pause. You glanced up to him.

"Why do you keep looking at me?" You asked. 

You placed the book you were reading on the table. You simply could not focus anymore. Your mind was racing, words from the document leaping all over the place. Your body screamed for rest.

You crawled to Xavier's side and rested your head on him. He was silent about everything, but softly rested his chin on your hair. The two of you stayed there for a long time, enjoying the tranquility of the lovely morning. Unfortunately, the test prevented you from going out with Xavier. A walk then would be great. You were ready to invite Xavier for a stroll later, but before you could say anything, you noticed his faint, regular snoring next to you.

"Eh, Xavier?" You were astonished. "Are you sleeping now, really?"

The bit of his head lying on you grew heavy. Even when you sat up straight and grasped his head in both hands, Xavier did not bother to wake up. You thought it both amusing and miserable. You allowed him to recline against the sofa. With a very gentle gesture, you helped him take off his reading glasses and put them away. You set one arm on the sofa, laying your head on it while watching him sleep. How beautiful Xavier was; like a prince, a knight who was always there to protect you. And in times when he was being vulnerable like this, you would defend him.  

You could not resist but reach out and poke his cheek. Xavier did not immediately wake up, although he moved slightly. You tried to suppress your laughter. Your hand found a pen from the floor nearby and began a grand scheme.

You got up very carefully and climbed onto Xavier's lap. With the pen in hand, you sketched him a fantastic mustache. The tickling of the pen tip caused his face to quiver slightly, but he remained asleep. You gleefully painted the tip of his nose and slid a few strokes across both cheeks. After that, you removed your bunny ear accessories and placed them on Xavier's hair.

You reflected on your work once it was completed. He looked like a giant rabbit that had just grown a mustache. You giggled, planning to flee and get your phone to photograph the situation. But Xavier instantly held you back.

"Ouch!" 

The power from him drew your wrist back, forcing you to collapse into his arms. Your rabbit awoke and appeared to comprehend what you had just done. Xavier looked down at your little body lying in his arms and said sleepily:

“What did you just draw on my face?”

“Eh… I didn't do anything…” You chose to deny the crime. You immediately flung the pen away, but Xavier caught you in the act.

Xavier adjusted his posture to sit up straighter, gently pulling you closer to his body. You were hugged tightly from behind by Xavier. His hand caressed your neck, causing you to tilt your head back and stare at him. 

And you could not help but laugh at his funny face right there. Xavier grimaced, obviously dissatisfied.

"A Hunter sneak-attacked another Hunter. You understand that's against the rules, right?"

"Yeah…" Still, you thought it amusing. "You won't go gossiping about this to our supervisors, will you?"

Xavier said, "If you want me not to report back, you have to compensate me."

"How do you want me to compensate?"

Xavier's eyes were keen, unlike his drowsy demeanor only a few seconds before. He smiled gently at you, but why did you sense danger as if you had stumbled into a trap?

"You will know very soon."

Xavier's fingers began to move across your face. He drew an invisible mustache for you, followed by a nose and a bunny's whiskers. You felt ticklish and twitched in his arms, but Xavier gripped you even tighter. A while later, you thought he had finished drawing then realized, he was only getting started

“It would be so easy to let you go like that.” Xavier muttered into your ear before softly biting it, sending a powerful electric shock through your entire body, and a reminder to never tease him while he was sleeping again.

It was too late to backtrack; you clenched your teeth. Xavier's warm breath invaded from the nape of your neck to your ear. The kisses he placed on your hair, ear, and neck made you feel heated. Xavier chewed the shoulder of your shirt and removed it, showing your slightly shaking bare shoulder. He softly bit it, followed by a deep kiss. You inhaled extensively, turning around to feel his lips.

Your intention to go for a walk after the study session that day might need to be postponed.

Rafayel

You were seated across from Rafayel in his sunlit studio. Rafayel was painting and singing gently as you buried your head in the book, clutching a highlighter pen and marking practically every word on the page.

"So loud, Rafayel. You are too loud." You spoke with some irritation. Of course, you did not mean it, but the competency evaluation for all Hunters would be held in a few days. To proceed to higher ranking, you must score well in all tests, including the theoretical test.

"And you're so ferocious, Miss Bodyguard. You scared away my inspiration!"

You rose up and moved around the desk full of books and papers to stand next to Rafayel, gazing at the landscape that he was painting. An afternoon at sea that looked just like the sight outside the studio at the time, but in Rafayel's hands, it felt like an enchanting tale.

“It looks like you're still doing well even though your inspiration ran away.” You replied, folding arms across your chest. “As for me... If only I could pass the test as easily and gracefully as you when you paint.”

Rafayel did not glance at you; his brush was still moving across the canvas. He said, "Painting for me is not as easy as you think. It requires all of my attention, passion, and devotion. You, too, will perform well on the test. You've been getting ready for it over the past few weeks."

"But I still feel worried."

Rafayel stopped painting. He turned and looked at you. "Then it's great if you rest and relax a little. When your mind is at peace, everything you do will be more productive."

You groaned as you looked at the mound of books on your desk. You said:

“Let me find something to do then.”

You turned around, and by some force, your hand accidentally brushed his shoulder. In his artwork, an undesired stripe of color appeared.

“Oops! I'm sorry!" You responded instantly. Rafayel gazed up at you with a sulky expression.

“That's it. I'll have to tell Thomas that you've just chased away my inspiration and you're spraying colors all over my painting."

“I didn't mean to ruin it.” You explained. Rafayel said again:

“It's not really ruined. I can still fix it. But, why should I do that? You're the one causing trouble here. So you have to compensate me.”

"Huh?" Your eyes were wide and innocent as you gazed at Rafayel. He took your palm and placed his paintbrush inside.

“Come on, Miss Bodyguard, how should I fix this painting?”

You were not an artist. When you were a kid, you used crayons to draw on papers, but this was Rafayel's creation. Your fingers shook as you gazed at him. He gave you the palette while tilting his head towards the easel. 

“Just consider this a way for you to relax for the time being.”

Hearing him say that made you even more stressed. You scowled and stared at him. That irritating smile of triumph made you resentful. Obviously, he was able to fix the painting himself, but he continued placing you in a difficult situation.

"So? If you can't fix it, you must give me a hundred compliments this week."

You frowned. His pompous demeanor was too much to tolerate. You grabbed the brush and began working. But instead of painting on the canvas, you traced a blue line over Rafayel's face.

"HUH?!" Rafayel stared at you, puzzled, and you chuckled. You lifted your hand to paint another line on the opposite side of his face, but he seized your wrist. "What are you doing?"

"Relaxing." You responded with a mysterious smile. "You just suggested that I should relax after studying hard, didn't you?"

"I told you to paint on the canvas, not to paint on me!"

Rafayel pouted, encouraging you to torture him even more. You quickly replied: "For me, Rafayel is the most wonderful work of art."

Hearing that, his eyes brightened up and he gazed at you with adoration. However, you must use the opportunity to swipe the brush over his other cheek while he let his guard down. You laughed loudly, and Rafayel became so irritated that you began to picture a fish with smoke coming out of his ears.

Your victory did not last very long. You felt something chilly on your face, and it smelled like paint. Rafayel lifted his index finger, which was coated in pink and purple. He was chuckling:

“You are also a work of art that I want to paint.”

Following that, the war between you and Rafayel began. You even let go of the brush and used five fingers to wipe as much paint as possible across his body. Rafayel applied additional paint from the tubes in the corner. Both his hands were stained. Seeing this, you attempted to flee, but Rafayel immediately grabbed your waist. He seized you from behind, and his pink, purple, and crimson handprints were all over your garments, covering your chest and neck. You resisted until turning the tables and snatching Rafayel's arm, holding it behind his back and forcing him to the floor.

"Ouch! Ouuuuuuch! You're breaking the arm of an esteemed painter!”

You snorted bitterly, then took advantage of the situation by pinning Rafayel to the floor and letting him struggle. You sat on top of him and began your revenge.

Starting with his dream-like, charming face. Fingers in varying shades of blue and white created traces on Rafayel's cheekbones, nose, and chin before sliding down his neck. He shuddered slightly in defeat.

"You… What do you want to do with me?"

You laughed in an incredibly hazardous manner. "What do you want me to do to you?"

Rafayel's face went crimson, and with the colors you had painted on him, he resembled a sunset over the sea. You slid your fingers inside his white shirt, brushed his powerful chest, and watched Rafayel slightly arch his spine.

"You…" Rafayel inhaled heavily. His heart rate surged. You could feel the heart throbbing beneath your hand. You leaned down very close, looked into his eyes, and whispered:

"Turned out, Rafayel also has the effect of reducing stress and giving me inspiration!"

Rafayel's lips curved up to say something, but you gently bit him. Rafayel fought but was unable to do anything since you gripped both of his hands and pinned him to the floor. You caught his heavy breathing between kisses, both unwilling and adoring to be pestered by you in this manner.

Zayne 

Zayne picked up a glass of cold water and pressed it against your cheek, startling you awake. He noticed you nodding on the sofa, with a book face down on your stomach in your lap. He remarked:

“How can you fall asleep after just five minutes of reading like that?”

“It's the book's fault, not mine.” You made an excuse and reached out to grab the glass of water Zayne had given you. Soon, you would have to take the competency assessment for all Hunters. Since studying alone was dull, you asked Zayne over for a work date. However, the only hard-working person here was him alone.

He returned to the desk and typed on his laptop again. A little cool water only woke you up for a while. You leaned your head on the sofa, eyes half-closed, gazing at him in front. When Zayne focused on his task, he looked breathtakingly beautiful. Everything about him seemed to draw you in. These eyes, these eyelashes, the bridge of his nose, and the corner of his mouth... All of a sudden, he turned around and caught you staring at him. He asked:

“Does my face inspire you that much?”

You did not feel shy at all but nodded heartily. The corner of his lips curved slightly. He replied:

“Then after you're done staring at me, go review your papers.”

"Too far." You extended your hand towards him, as if you wanted to hold him. "My inspiration is sitting so far away, no wonder why I am so sleepy."

Zayne gazed at you. Obviously, he laughed. Then he rose up, held his laptop, and approached you. The seat next to you sank when he dropped down next to you.

“Is this okay?”

“Yeah. It's good now." You joyfully responded and resumed reading the book. The Hunters Association handed you a vast stack of books to study, each of which was thick. You were certain that you would perform well on the combat skills evaluation, but the theoretical questions caused you a headache.

After a time, you started to become distracted. You noticed Zayne sitting by your side with a laptop on his lap and wondered how he could focus so intently. He seemed to be able to work at any time and in any location. You looked over to his screen. The stuff displayed there was much more perplexing than your books. You grumbled and struggled on the sofa for a bit, but failed to discover a position that helped you focus. Zayne inquired: 

"What's going on? Are you uncomfortable sitting?"

You nodded your head.

"Maybe because you've sat in the wrong position for too long," he told you.

Before Zayne could give you any suggestions on how to improve your posture, you raised your legs on the sofa and positioned them in his lap, on top of the laptop keyboard. He rolled his eyes at you, then gently raised your knees up with one hand while swiftly taking out the laptop and setting it aside.

"Lean back against the cushion." Zayne placed a cushion between your back and the armrest of the sofa. After fixing everything, he inquired: 

"Are you more comfortable now?"

You chuckled and nodded. Zayne gave you a face that conveyed both surrender and excessive tenderness. You buried your head in the book again, but the words faded away since all you cared about was Zayne's long fingers brushing your exposed uncovered legs. He was softly rubbing them, which made you feel a little ticklish.

Zayne turned to look at you; your face had become scarlet behind the book.

"Read your book." He said. Despite your best efforts, you could no longer recall anything. Your mind was whirling as he touched your legs. His hands are strong but soft, making you feel at ease and eager to be caressed by him. 

So when you saw Zayne's hands leave you as he reached for his laptop again, you stretched your leg and pushed it as far as you could, all the way to the opposite end of the sofa. He grasped your ankle and gently reminded you:

“Be a good girl.”

Then he released you and took the device. He placed it on your legs like they were a desk. Of course, you refused to give up so fast. You continued shifting your legs, causing the laptop to tremble so much that Zayne was unable to continue working. He glared at you, and you retreated behind the book, pretending not to see his agony at all.

"Did you really call me here to work together?" Zayne's voice soared out, as if he had become upset. Before you could respond, he raised the laptop, placed his other hand around your waist, and drove you towards him.

"Erm… Doctor Zayne?"

Being pulled so suddenly, you leaned completely against Zayne. Your forehead lightly hit his chin and your nose touched his Adam's apple. It seemed he was also a bit startled, his throat became dry. For a moment, he looked down at you, and you looked up slightly to observe his reaction.

Zayne said nothing, his eyes fixed on your parted lips. Your heart rate began to rise at such a close distance. Your ragged breathing on Zayne's neck made him gradually forget his original purpose in coming to this place. The laptop was once again put down, and his lips glided lightly across the bridge of your nose.

“Hmm… Doctor Zayne… Are you not working anymore?” You asked softly, when his lips were only about the size of a mint candy from yours. He replied:

“Someone keeps distracting me. In order to work more effectively, I need to address this matter first."

You grinned. You were on Zayne's lap, but when he leaned slightly towards your lips, wanting to touch them, you turned away. His eyes were filled with disappointment when he gazed at you, wondering what you wanted from him or why you placed a little sweetness in his heart just to leave him hanging like that.

You looked up. Your hand stroked Zayne's face before moving down to his lips. Your voice was quiet:

“Doctor Zayne, it's not just your face or your lips that inspires me…”

Your fingertips carefully went down to Zayne's neck. He remained immobile, waiting to see what you would do next. You pressed closer to his body and muttered:

“To me, everything about you serves as an inspiration…”

Zayne's throat was dry. Perhaps when he accepted your offer to come here, he anticipated a work date with you that looked nothing like the way you grinned so wickedly as you pushed him closer to the sofa, slowly turning around and wrapping your legs around his sides. Sitting on his lap, you tilted your head, smiled, then gave him a kiss on his Adam's apple.

Sylus

Sylus appeared at your apartment after the doorbell rang so loudly that if you arrived even a second late, the door would definitely not be intact.

The problem was that he assumed something was wrong with you after learning from Luke and Kieran that you had not left the house in almost three days.

Sylus grabbed and spun you around to ensure you were not wounded. You had to explain that you were alright, but exhausted from several days of studying for the approaching Hunters' competence evaluation.

Sylus shook his head at the mound of books in your living room:

"They teach you these useless things in Linkon?”

“I've got a combat skills test, and a theoretical test. I must pass both.”

Sylus said nothing else. He allowed you to continue immersing yourself in books as he sat comfortably on the sofa, as if this place was his very home. 

A short while later, you heard a rattling sound coming from Sylus. Looking over, you were startled to see his gun pointing in your direction.

"What on Earth—"

Sylus lifted his head to look at you, grinned, and continued cleaning his weapon. You let out a loud sigh. Before he came to shatter this quiet atmosphere, you had memorized many questions for the test. But his presence made it hard for you to focus since your gaze was always drawn to him.

You observed him for a long time. There were a few raindrops in his hair and leather jacket. His crimson eyes focused on the gun in his grasp, his head leaned slightly, and the light illuminated on one side of his gorgeous face. Every now and again, you would look up, and when he noticed your gaze fixed on him, he would smile as if he had you in his palm. And it was true.

When Sylus was around, you had trouble focusing on anything else. You groaned and asked him:

“Why are you still here? You know I'm safe and sound. Go home now, Sylus.”

Sylus replied with a to-the-point question: "Do you really want me to leave?"

Outside, it was pouring rain. It was past eleven o'clock at night. You decided to wait for the rain to cease before telling him to go home again. Otherwise, you would find yourself unable to pass the competency evaluation! How dare he be so desirable and captivating?

You had no option but to sit with your back to Sylus. About half an hour later, when the rain was over and you had finished most of the book that needed to be read, you turned to seek for him. Sylus slumped back on the sofa, his eyes closed tight. It appeared as he was sleeping. You approached and called his name.

Sylus did not respond, so you poked his cheek with your hand. He did not open his eyes, but gripped your hand fast. 

“Let me sleep. I'll play with you later, kitten."

Even after he stated that, he refused to let go of you. He used force to pull you down next to him on the sofa. When you sat down, he leaned closer, putting his head on your thigh.

"Sylus?"

"Shhh. Just a moment..."

You decided to give up. Looking at him sleeping so peacefully, like a vicious cat who had retracted all his claws and snuggled up on your lap. You ran your fingers through his hair, tracing each line from his forehead to his chin. You thought to yourself how tempting it would be to steal a kiss from him. But the moment you dropped your head, he awoke.

His fiery eyes secured on you. You abruptly sat up straight, as if nothing had occurred. Sylus cracked a grin

"I caught you trying to sneak up on me, kitten."

"What are you saying?" You disputed it and then used your hand to shove him down. "The rain ceased. It's time you go home."

But Sylus grasped your arm. His moves were so quick that you were left startled. He rose up and spun around, using enough power to pin you to the sofa in a sitting posture, your hands securely clutched on both sides of your head.

Sylus leaned down to get closer to you. One of his knees was pressed tight to your thigh on the chair, while the other leg kept his body poised in front of you. This position made it difficult for you to flee, even if you wanted to. Sylus glanced at you like a cat toying his mouse. He clarified:

“I didn't come all the way here to Linkon just for you to order me around and send me back like that.”

Your chest started to throb. You said, "So, why did you come here?"

"To help you pass your test, of course."

"Huh?" You attempted to get away from Sylus, but he grabbed you so hard that your wrists began to turn red.

"Now that you've thoroughly read the book, kindly answer me. If a Hunter found herself in a situation like this, what would she do?”

You returned your attention to Sylus after looking at the pile of monotonous books on the table. He appeared to offer you a challenge:

Sylus undoubtedly had superior fighting abilities than you. He knew which way you would go, so he grabbed you around the waist with a simple arm extension. He picked you up with one arm and shoved you hard into the sofa. As you struggled to get away, he grabbed your ankle.

"Ouch! It hurts!" You yelled, but all you received in return was Sylus' smug laugh.

"Too slow, kitten."

He flipped you over so you could see how tightly he gripped your leg against his dominant chest. Sylus chuckled in a vicious manner and asked:

“Are these little tricks all that the Hunters Association teaches you?”

“You… Sylus… I… Argh!”

You were enraged and tossed several cushions at him at once. When one of them smacked his face, he did not even dodge; instead, he closed his eyes. After that, he gazed down at you, your hair tangled and your arms and legs thrashing in an attempt to escape. His fingers go along your exposed leg. He wrapped both of your thighs around his waist, and his enormous figure crushed down on you on the sofa. His hot breath painted your face and neck, causing you to lose track of everything else. He softly bit your ear and murmured:

“Be still. I could teach you a few combat tricks. But, I'm curious how much you would pay for it."

Header photos by x and x

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Hi there! I really * love * your writing and would like to request a Daryl x fem!reader story.

Set in 10x11, reader takes care of Daryl after he returns from his fight with Alpha. The reader treats the wounds (leg, face, bruises). They also might talk about Carol's odd behavior and are worried about her.

Then it's about getting ready to fight the herd and the Whisperers, not knowing if they'll survive the night. They probably also have a daughter and they're worried about her, Judith' and RJ's safety.

There could be fluff, a spark of hope or even smut (carefully because of his injuries, of course) or anything like that.

I would love to read that 😊 xx

I am the Mess You Chose

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Setting: Hilltop (Whisperers Era)

Warnings: Injuries; Medical treatment

A/N: I really tried with this, Anon. I hope I did okay. I think it went more angsty than I had intended. Still, I hope you enjoy. I also really love Daryl giving the reader the nickname Pip, short for pipsqueak. It just resonates with me, so I hope my little bit of self indulgence is okay.

*gif is not mine

You were speaking with Luke and Yumiko when you heard the familiar rumble of Daryl’s bike, turning toward the gate with Aspen on your hip. Her cries of dada dada dada accompanied the clapping of her little hands while your husband rode through with Lydia on the back of the bike. You could instantly see that something wasn’t right. 

“Any sign of them?” Yumiko reached them first, not waiting until the motorcycle had even been shut off. Daryl was looking down, avoiding the light.

“We didn’t get that far.” He grumbled while Lydia dismounted. Kelly stepped forward next, looking concerned but whether it was for Daryl or who he didn’t bring back, you couldn’t be sure. You were handing Aspen off to Jerry with a quick please watch her before you moved past everyone. Daryl was struggling to get off the bike, grunting and instantly keeping the weight off his left leg. “We gotta talk.”

“Not you.” You interjected, dragging his arm over your shoulders. “Lydia, can you handle the details?” The girl nodded. You gave Jerry another glance and received a nod before he had little Aspen waving at you and Daryl, who put on a brave face for his daughter until you were out of sight. He made a noise in the back of his throat the moment the two of you stepped across the threshold, both legs nearly buckling beneath him. “I gotcha. Downstairs bedroom, just a little further.” You shook your head at someone who appeared to be close to addressing Daryl and jerked your chin toward the front door in a silent request for them to shut it. “Can you open the bedroom door, Daryl?”

“Yeah.” He rasped, fumbling for the knob before finally grasping it and shoving the door open. It was a bit of a challenge but you eventually got him to the bed and let him sink down on the edge of the mattress. “Hey, Pip.” He offered you the smallest of smiles while looking up at you, your fingers brushing his hair away from the substantial laceration above his eye.

“Don’t hey, Pip me, Daryl Dixon! What happened?” You admonished, continuing your assessment and finding more injuries on his torso but his leg, that was where your worry spiked. His pants were stiff with dried blood, the bandages lined at the top with a tightly bound piece of fabric. A tourniquet, you surmised. 

“Found Alpha. Tried to find out where they were.” He leaned back on his hands, his upper body swaying.

“I see how well that conversation went.” You deadpanned.

He responded at first with a hum. “Lydia found me. S’half dead. She dragged my sorry ass outta there, patched me up good ‘nough to get back.” Daryl jolted, the bandages sticking to his skin as you unwound them from the wound. You’d need to grab some antibiotics for sure. Knife wound, deep. The bleeding had all but stopped thanks to the tourniquet, but you felt sick at the thought of how easily the femoral artery could have been nicked. How quickly he would have bled out. “Was gonna leave it.”

“What?” You looked up to find him watching you. He nodded toward his leg.

“Alpha’s knife. Was gonna leave it. Knew better’an to pull it out, but she followed me. Drew in three walkers. Had to use it.” You stared at him levelly, not relenting when he reached to trace a finger down your jaw. “S’good to see your face, Pip. An' baby girl’s. For a minute there—for a minute, I thought I wasn’t comin’ back.” 

“Remind me to thank Lydia after I throttle the hell out of you for going alone.” You stepped out of the room for the suture kit, more antiseptic and bandages. “How long has this been on?” You motioned toward the tourniquet with the suture kit.

“Few hours.”

Slamming the kit onto the mattress, your head followed it with a groan. “I’ll have to do an IV, Daryl. We need to do a bolus of fluids to flush out the toxins building up where the blood isn’t flowing.” You weren’t mad, not really. You were redirecting your fear into something that wouldn’t have you a trembling mess while trying to stitch up your husband’s damn near fatal wound.

“M’sorry.”

“It’s fine. I’m—” You sighed and knelt next to his leg to clean the wound thoroughly. “I’m just glad you’re here. Safe. And in one piece.” You tilted your head. “More or less.” It always hurt your heart to tend to his injuries, not just knowing the wound itself was painful, but knowing it would just add to the collection of scars he had accumulated throughout his life. He didn’t seem so bothered by them anymore but that didn’t mean you enjoyed watching him gather them like tattoos. 

The two of you were quiet as you stitched, not a single word until you tied off the last one and clipped the remaining thread. You placed the used materials in the wastebasket and stepped out of the room, jogging down to the medical unit for IV supplies, antibiotics, and fluids. People were moving about hastily but you’d find out why later. You had to take care of your husband first. Arms full, you detoured to find Jerry. He was on the ground with Aspen, her little arms flailing around as she stood in front of him, telling the world’s tallest tale. The man caught your eye and nodded. You mouthed a thank you and continued back to the house. There must have been something he was needed for, but you were keeping him from it. 

Daryl was lying down when you returned, an arm thrown across his eyes. He wasn’t sleeping, the rhythmic tapping of each finger against his thumb a tell tale sign that he was anxious. You needed to find out what was going on, why everyone was bustling about in waves, though you had an inkling. You were just hoping to be wrong.

Clearing your throat, you entered the room. “You really pulled a Carol yesterday, you know.”

“That ain’t funny.” He huffed, lifting his arm slightly. He looked so exhausted and pale. 

“It wasn’t intended to be, love.” He just happened to be shielding his eyes with the arm you needed, but didn’t fight you when you pulled it down to lie straight at his side and rolled up the sleeve. Placing the rubber tourniquet above his elbow, you started palpating for a vein, glancing up at him every few seconds. “She’s not doing so hot, is she?”

“Nah. She ain't.” He replied quietly. He didn’t flinch when you slid the needle in, getting a good return before removing the tourniquet and popping the needle back to leave the catheter behind. “Worried ‘bout her.”

“I know.” You straightened the tubing and connected it to the bags you hung on the headboard, open the line to start the flow of fluids and antibiotics. “I’m gonna take the tourniquet from your leg. It’s not gonna feel great.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know. Done this dance a million times, Pip.” 

You nodded and circled the bed, grabbing the scissors from the medical kit on your journey. You positioned the blades before glancing up at your husband. He was staring at the ceiling, but you knew where his head was.

“Are you angry with her?” Snip. Daryl grunted and clenched his fists, the circulation returning in a painful spiral throughout the injured limb.

“Yeah. Yeah, m’fuckin’ angry with her.” He snapped quietly, nostrils flaring. “Keeps takin’ off half-cocked, gettin’ herself hurt, gettin’ other people—” His mouth snapped shut into a thin line, his left arm coming up to cover his eyes that time. 

“Connie.” You supplied. You knew Daryl had taken a liking to the woman. She radiated confidence and positivity and just life. Your husband had grabbed onto that with both hands and held fast, pulling her into your little family. You both adored her. You didn’t blame Carol per se, but she did hold some of the responsibility for Connie’s—disappearance. “Daryl.”

“What?” He huffed, his irritation not directed at you. You knew him better than that.

“What if it were Aspen?” He jerked his arm away from his eyes so quickly that you flinched, knowing he was about to yell at you for even suggesting such a thing. “Stop. It’s a horrible thought, I know. But take how just that thought makes you feel and multiply it by infinity, my love. That is where Carol’s heart is right now and her head can’t even try to keep up with it.”

“That ain’t—she just—” His chin was wobbling, an inner war raging behind his stormy blue eyes.

Grabbing some butterfly stitches, gauze, and alcohol, you crawled onto the mattress and sat cross-legged by his shoulder. When you began to dab at the wound on his forehead, his face fell and his defeated gaze found your steady one. 

“I’m not saying she’s right, love. I’m just saying maybe she’s not wrong either.” You said nothing else until you had closed the wound with the strips and leaned forward to place a kiss between his eyes. “You two will get through this. You always find a way.” With a sniff and a deep breath, Daryl nodded. You were unbuttoning his shirt to tend to the other wounds when you yourself inhaled deeply, eyes flashing up to your husband’s face. “I need you to tell me what’s happening out there.”

“Be here by nightfall. Still gives us a bit to get ready.”

You stood at Daryl’s side against the upstairs bannister while everyone below scurried about with weapons and supplies. 

“You’re sure all the roads are blocked?” You tapped your fingers against the wood nervously.

“You were on one of them roads yourself, Pip. Ya saw it. They got ‘em all.” The archer’s bandaged hand covered yours to still your anxious movements. “Listen, I wantcha with the kids.” Your eyes were already watching your daughter on the carpet downstairs with Judith and RJ, but your attention snapped toward him before he could finish speaking.

“No.”

“Ain’t a request. Wantcha to—”

“No, Daryl.” You snapped, pulling your hand away. “This bitch has taken from all of us. I’m gonna be right beside you, on the frontlines.”

“Nah, need ya to stay away from this. Need to know that Aspen’s with ‘er mama, that Jude an’ RJ have ya there to protect 'em.” You were shaking your head with every word, but he didn’t stop. “Can’t fight out there not knowin’ my family’s safe as they can get.”

“And I can’t sit in here knowing my husband is out there fighting without me.” You gestured to the whole of him. “Fighting when he’s already beaten all to hell!” “Just do this for me, Pip. Take care’a our kids. If somethin’ happens to me, baby girl, Jude, an’ RJ’re gonna need ya.” Daryl brushed your hair behind your ear and placed his hand on your cheek. Your eyes were wet with frustration and hopelessness and worry and grief. 

“Goddamn you, Daryl Dixon.” Your head fell forward against his chest, sniffling until he wrapped his arms around your shoulders and held you there while you pulled yourself together. He was right, and you knew it. Your daughter couldn’t lose both of her parents to that monster. Jude and RJ couldn’t lose what family they had left. “Alright. I’ll stay back with the kids.” Daryl kissed your forehead.

“M’gonna talk to Zeke. If one’a us goes down, the other’ll come for you an’ the kids, okay?”

“Don’t talk like that.”

“Y/N, I’m just—”

“No, don’t talk like you’re not coming back to me.” You didn’t let him speak again before your mouth was on his, your hands in his hair while his squeezed your waist. “You are coming back to me.” You were walking him backwards toward one of the empty rooms, careful of his injury and accommodating his limp. 

“M’comin’ back.” He spoke quietly against your mouth, letting you unbutton his shirt before he could even manage to start shutting the door. “Always will.”

[sixseasonsofodestawithatardis]

Explaining PIP, the reforms and how YOU can help!

Recently, Prime Minister Rishi Sunak and Secretary of State for Work and Pensions Mel Stride announced measures to reform PIP (Personal Independence Payment). It's a benefit given to disabled people, whether they are employed or not, to help provide support for the extra costs incurred due to being disabled. PIP can be paid on anything you need, such as a carer, adaptions, your bills or a night out (yes, disabled people are entitled to a social life I'm NOT arguing with anyone about this!) On top of the changes to sick notes, the announced reforms are an assault on disabled people to desperately cling to power!

Below is an explanation of PIP and the reforms so people can answer the open consultations, call for evidence, and sign a petition. We need as many people in the UK as possible to answer both to try to stop these reforms from happening.

What is PIP?

The Tories are saying PIP is a one-size-fits-all benefit, which again is a lie as PIP is designed to look at how your disability affects your daily life and how difficult it makes it for you to participate in society, not whether you have this specific disability so it only affects you in these ways! It doesn't matter whether you're diagnosed or not, either. There are two categories they look at throughout, known as the 'Daily Living Component' and the 'Mobility component' The process involves 50 pages you have to fill out (link to Turn2US for proof https://www.turn2us.org.uk/get-support/information-for-your-situation/claiming-personal-independence-payment-pip/fill-in-the-personal-independence-payment-pip-form#:~:text=You%20usually%20get%20the%20paper,it%20is%2050%20pages%20long.)

With hundreds of letters from Doctors as proof of your condition! And then an assessment in which you will answer all sorts of demeaning questions, give in-depth answers that you don't feel comfortable sharing, and hope the assessor has understood how it affects your life and written it down properly and that you'll get the right amount of money at the end of this assessment or re-assessment.

To get the standard rate in both components, you need 8 points; to get the enhanced rate, you need 12 points.

They'll then give you two, three, five, or ten years (10 years is known as a fixed-term award and a light-touch review) to undergo the terror of the PIP assessment again.

The reforms proposed and why they're terrifying!

The reforms they've suggested so far are

One-off grants for aids and appliances

receipts to then be claimed back at a later date

the changing of eligibility for PIP or the category 'Long Term sickness'

Vouchers instead of cash payments

If you've read those four options and thought they were cruel, infantilising and impossible to make work, then you'd be right.

As a disabled person, bills don't magically disappear. You still have council tax and rent to pay or a carer. Will landlords and councils accept these vouchers? A one-off grant won't work here either. The vouchers also signal that we can't be trusted to pay for our own needs and aren't responsible—which is far from the truth!

Aids and treatments are already covered by the NHS, so this is redundant and will be futile, especially when you consider the long waiting lists for mental health treatment (and just generally) on the NHS—and even if they aren't, we do know that and will use PIP to save up for it, etc. It's easier and more economical to give us cash payments.

To have the receipts to claim back expenses, we need to have the money to spend on said expenses.

Changing the eligibility will (much like these other suggestions) put more disabled people at risk. If you want mental health to improve: Fix the NHS, wages, sort out the cost of living crisis and fund the research/support for Long Covid sufferers.

How you can help! - UK-based people, plz sign everyone else. Please reblog & signal boost!

If you live in the UK, there are currently two consultations open ( the sick note one closes on 8 July 2024, and the PIP one closes on 22 July 2024). Ideally, the responses will be used to decide whether these reforms go ahead.

Here are links to the two reforms for PIP and changes to the sick note process.

Please note that the PIP consultation ( the first link) is 6 pages long and must be completed in one go. It's also filled with typos, repeated questions, and very difficult wording in many places, so be on the lookout for that! People are rightfully complaining about its accessibility, so the link and end date may change. I will update this post if this happens. I also know answering stuff like this is overwhelming, so here is a thread by PeachyInWales on Twitter about how they approached the consultation. If I see any samples by any disability activists or organisations, I will post them here, too!

This second link is the second consultation or call to evidence. Which GPs are being stripped of the ability to sign sicknotes for people on benefits, which is again ridiculous!

And the last link is a petition from SCOPE to stop the government from demonising disabled people further.

Ultimately, we're trying to stop a benefit that is difficult to get and barely covers costs for many applicants from getting worse.

If I've missed anything then let me know! I'm sorry the post was so long, but it's a lot to go through! Again, UK-based people, please share your thoughts if you can and sign the petition! If you are not currently living in the UK, please share these links or the post so other UK-based users can see this and try to help.

Thank you!

[ineffectualdemon]

Hey so tomorrow morning I have my phone assessment for PIP (Personal Independence Allowance which is Disability in the UK) and I'm really really scared and anxious

I've done all the necessary prep and have guides and support but if any of you want to throw me some good vibes or positive thoughts I would appreciate it

I'm sure I can get PIP it's just a question of if I can get first try but it would make our life so much better if we could

[chaussetteblanche]

just like the wind - II

word count: 1'800 warnings: none

“Where are you taking us?” Frodo asks, trailing behind you and Strider, amidst his friends.

“Into the wild.” Your companion does not bother turning back. Back in the day, his lack of explanations and emotion used to irritate you infinitely. Today, you know why he does it. The less the Hobbits know, the better. Not long after, the halflings start whispering among themselves. You can hear what they are saying with your elf abilities, but seeing as they aren’t keeping very quiet, you’re certain Strider can too.

“How can we know these Rangers are friends of Gandalf?” Merry asks, rightfully suspicious. 

“We have no choice but to trust them.” Frodo seems less anxious than he did the previous evening. 

“But where are they leading us?”

“To Rivendell, Master Gamgee,” you answer over your shoulder, “to the House of Elrond.”

“You hear that?” Sam all but squeals, “Rivendell! We’re going to see the elves!” You bite back a scoff and share an amused glance with Strider. The Hobbits had been travelling with an elf for the better part of a day: you. You are reminded of your hood with a small gust of wind. They had only seen part of your face, which was why they didn’t know you were an elf yet.

You and Strider have to adjust your pace to the Hobbits’ little legs and general unfitness. When you stop for the umpteenth time, you suppress a frustrated groan. Strider sighs as he turns around, expecting to find the Hobbits hunched over, catching their breaths or complaining about the pain in their legs. 

“Gentlemen,” he calls, “we do not stop ‘till nightfall.” Confused at his words, you turn around as well and let an amused smile grace your features. You find the Hobbits sitting on the ground, ruffling through their bags, clearly hoping to have a meal.

“What about breakfast?” Pippin asks, a confused frown on his face. “You’ve just had it.” You cross your arms over your chest, brows furrowed.

“We’ve had one, yes,” Pippin’s voice is conciliating. “What about second breakfast?” He raises an eyebrow. Strider sends the Hobbits a strange look before trudging off, continuing your journey. You shake your head with a small chuckle before following your companion. 

“I don’t think they know about second breakfast, Pip,” Merry sighs as he slings his bag over his shoulders.

“What about elevensies?” Pippin splutters, “Luncheon? Afternoon tea? Dinner? Supper? They know about those, don’t they?”

“I wouldn’t count on it.” You feel sorry for the little creatures and throw each of them an apple you’d grabbed off a tree earlier.

When the cover of darkness starts instilling itself, you stop at the bottom of a hill. Remains of a tower still reside on its peak.  “This was the great watchtower of Amon Sûl,” Aragorn speaks. 

“We shall rest here tonight,” you state, walking up the hill. Weary from the trying day, the Hobbits lay down their bags and huddle together. You and Strider decide to take turns either keeping watch or scouting the base of the hill for possible threats. You start the first round and, after laying down your bag, being your stroll about the hill.

When a light catches your eye, you realize that the Hobbits had started a fire. Heart hammering inside your chest, you curse their ignorance and rush towards them. The flame goes out but when you perceive the shrieks of the Nine Riders, you know it’s too late. You see the Wraiths all but fly up the hill and push your legs to go faster, breaths coming out in quick, white clouds in the cold night. When you finally reach the top of the hill, you assess the situation before placing yourself between the helpless Hobbits and the Riders.

Knowing there was no time to fetch Strider, you pray he joins you soon as you pull out your sword. You jab at the monster the closest to you and slash at another. You narrowly dodge a blade, hearing your blood pump in your ears. You manage to keep them off for a little while before the Riders turn their attention to you rather than Frodo, who you were standing in front of. With all their blows aimed at you, you barely have time to dodge each hit. You realize with horror that it would only a matter of seconds before you were overpowered. Nine wraiths against one half-elleth, you stood no chance.

It's no surprise when you block a jab aimed at your neck and are suddenly pushed to the side. You fall to the ground with a grunt. A heavily armoured foot nearly crashes into your face, you just manage to roll out of the way in time. You push yourself to your knees, pulling out your dagger with a snarl before you’re picked up and thrown into the air. 

What the-

The ground barely has time to look far away before it’s hurtling towards you. The scream you hadn’t been conscious of it cut off when you plummet into the ground with a harsh “thump”. You gasp, your breath having been knocked out of you. What feels like forever later, you’re greedily gulping in air, lying flat on your back. You groan in pain as you push yourself up, coming back to your senses. Suddenly, you feel everything. The pain in your skimmed knees, the large bruise on your hit, the cut in your cheek and your bruised and bleeding nose. 

You painstakingly make your way up the hill again, clutching your most-probably bruised ribs. You push yourself to get there as fast as you can, but you are too late. When you reach the top of the hill, Sam is kneeling on the ground next to Frodo’s motionless body and Strider is trying to fight the Wraiths off. You’re at his side in a second, fighting with your dagger, your sword long forgotten. 

You manage to fight four of the Riders off and set fire to the other five. Their screams would forever be etched in your mind. When the threat is no more, you hunch over, leaning on your knees, catching your breath. Strider puts a hand on your shoulder, panting.

“Are you alright?” he asks, concern lacing his tone as he takes in your injuries. He wipes at the blood on your chin, brows furrowed. You don’t have time to answer him as the Frodo’s cries of pain reach you both. 

“Strider! Ira!” Sam panics, “Help him!”

Clutching your aching ribs, you kneel beside the Hobbit. You hiss as the pain in your knees as you examine the wound in Frodo’s chest. Strider picks up the blade the Hobbit had been stabbed with, but the blade turns to ash the second it’s picked up. He lets the hilt fall to the ground with a clatter. You share a knowing, worried look. 

“He’s been stabbed by a Morgul blade.” Strider offers a rare elaboration for the Hobbits. 

“This is beyond my skill to heal,” you turn to your companion, “He needs Elvish medicine.”

Strider nods and picks up Frodo, still groaning in pain. You resume your trek towards Rivendell more hastily than before. The Hobbits almost have to jog to keep up with your long, worried steps. You illuminated the path with a torch while Strider made sure Frodo didn’t fall off the horse you had brought along with you.

“We’re six days from Rivendell! He’ll never make it!” Sam voices your thoughts. Though you know he’s right, you don’t answer. Neither does Strider. Sam uselessly cries Gandalf’s name into the wind, and you set your jaw. That wizard would have some explaining to do when you’d next see him.

After a few hours, you stop walking at Strider’s command. As bags are being unpacked, you turn to Strider. 

“Strider, if we want Frodo to have any chances of survival, we must continue to Rivendell.” 

“That is far too dangerous. We’ve already walked enough during the night. Fire brings us unwanted attention,” argues Strider.

“It is the only way. This poison travels extremely fast,” you insist, taking a step closer to him. “We wouldn’t stop, and the Riders wouldn’t be able to catch up with us. It’s the better option.”

“Look at them!” Strider snaps quietly. “They are not made for this! They have about ten meals a day! You cannot expect them to walk continuously for six days! They are stay-at-home creatures; they are no Rangers! And even less are they Elves!” As the volume of his voice increases, the Hobbits start listening in on your conversation. They seem to really see you for the first time, without your hood and in the firelight. If they notice your elf traits, they do not comment. You feel your temper rising quickly.

“I am not relying on their strength, I am relying on their determination and love for their friend,” you spit before turning to the Hobbits: “We would barely stop. We’re running out of food and are being chased by Wraiths. Make your choice.” Merry and Pippin exchange panicked looks, unsure of what to say.

“Look, all I know is that we’re wasting time, here! We’ll ride!” Sam exclaims. You nod and send him a small smile. You admire his heart. You start picking up your things.

“This is your problem, Ira,” Strider hisses as you trudge past him, “You never think about the consequences!”

“I do think of consequences! Right now, the consequence to us continuing at this pace would be Frodo’s death! I am trying to avoid that!”

“And you would prefer three Hobbits to die instead?”  “They can take it. However, I’m all ears if you have another solution,” you snap. He remains silent.

You stop three days later to rest for the night, despite your protests. You have enough knowledge of healing and medicine to know that Frodo will not survive much longer. You have come up with a solution, but you refrain from sharing it with Strider. You know he would not approve, and some things are easier without asking for approval. After making camp and waiting for the Hobbits to fall asleep, you tell Strider you would take the first guard. He nods. Things have been tense since your argument but neither of you are willing to back down.

Once you are sure he is asleep, you pack your bag with a small amount of food, making sure the other had enough left. You write a little note explaining your departure to Strider before mounting the horse and setting off. Just before you’re out of sight, you throw a twig at Merry. The young Hobbit shoots up and shakes Strider awake. Strider finds your note and shakes his head, pursing his lips. 

You disappear into the night, unaware of the troubles ahead of you. 

[susurrationofthewind]

personally speaking I think anyone who's been involed in the worsening of the DWP in the past two decades should be hung

[warm-concrete]

A Girl, Her Guns, and Her Ghoul

Cooper Howard x Nora [ Set before the show's events ]

Cooper 'The Ghoul' Howard has followed dead-end lead to dead-end lead across the American Wasteland. He's been compiling a map; determined to find each and every damn vault until he gets in one that has the answers he needs.

But there's been one fatal flaw to his pilgrimage: he's been locked out of most e'ry fuckin' goddamned one.

After striking out of luck in D.C., not being able to locate one singular salvageable pip-boy in the whole of the Capital Wasteland, he now finds himself in Boston just as one lonesome, unlucky Vaultie crosses his path... and she appears to be wearin' just the thing he needs.

Chapter 1: Gonna Find Me a Bluebird Ao3 Link Here

Tagging those who commented on my original post (Hope y'all don't mind): @dramaticpandabear @gloomytk @ginevranights @runicarbiter02 @justme12200 @keialuma @ghoul-foolery @a-rogue-tiddy-bot

Intro below the cut...

The Ghoul

Climbing all them stairs up to the roof top, on the edge of whichever ruined city he’d found himself in, didn’t help Cooper Howard with the geographical difficulties he’d been having. 

Sure, he was lost. But everyones lost in this damned wasteland.

Instead, his new vantage point allowed his gun-metal grey eyes to find a far better objective.

There was someone in the distance, down the street. 

That wasn’t uncommon, of course, but in his initial assessment- picking between feed or foe, one little detail caught his eye. The Ghoul’s already taut skin stretched further as he smirked at the approaching silhouette. The figure of some critter was being illuminated by a faint radiation-green glow from their wrist. 

Bing-o!

Even better, they were walking towards him- he didn’t even have to go hunting. Like a bullet, he corrected that thought: as if he hadn’t been on one long hunting trip, only spanning 200 odd years or so. 

Cooper reigned in on his buck fever; his target was still too far for shooting so he waited and watched, hang-fire; planning his pinch.  

As the shape got nearer an’ clearer Cooper came to understand this mark was some silly filly. 

He groaned, looking to the darkening sludge of a sky, she was close enough now that he could see she was sporting his fucking colours. Blue and yellow: Wearing a practically good-as-new vault suit. Made sense, she must’ve got the Pip-Boy from its sour source. But why the fuck had she burrowed out? 

Tilting his head, he watched as a trio of Ferals sprung up and cut dirt towards her. Maybe they’d do his work for him, save him some slugs. Teach the lost little lamb a lesson about wandering on your lonesome unprepared. 

To his great surprise, she was slick as greased lightning with her draw. One after another, only needing one bullet each, they all fell limp to the floor before they could even dream of touching her. 

The Ghoul raised his brow and let out a low whistle. So, the filly can shoot.

[queerautism]

I am so furious and scared. Fucking government is trying to stop my PIP payments (and get money back from me!!!) claiming they haven't received the review assessment back from us, which not only did we send but we have pictures and we called the day we sent it to confirm with them and get an extension so it would have time to get there.

We just got the letter and of course, they are closed on weekends so I have to freak out about this until Monday when they open and Dave can call and try to sort it out