#writing prompt response

[bridgetlynn]

For the drabble game, Frank and Dana and, because I like pain, number 69 :)

Okay, so thanks for the kick to get something written. #69 was Annoyance. And I'm not sure if this is what you were thinking about - but I think there's a general overall feel of that emotion throughout. I just kind of wrote and wound up in an interesting place. And Robby showed up to play as well. Hope that's okay. Five sentences went out the window around 1pm. It actually clocks in at 4290 words. It's still untitled. Hope you enjoy it - even if it went in a different direction then I necessarily expected it to. So here are Dana dealing with Frank and Robby and Annoyance.

The start of a shift cycle, following the two day break, always came around too soon in Dana Evans’ opinion. This one, following the roughest shift she’d had in her entire career when not counting a global pandemic, had seemed to come a little sooner than usual. It also happened to be, on top of everything, a Monday. 

And now, something had been blown up that couldn’t be put back into its box; and according to her computer, it might not have needed to have such a large blast radius.

Needless to say she’s had better mornings.

“Hi!”

Dana looked up from where she was reviewing the status of the patients currently inhabiting her emergency room, as she had been off for four days, and met the bluest eyes she had ever seen in person. It would be a lovely sight if those eyes weren’t currently in the skull of a puppy turned human. A puppy wearing black scrubs which meant it was going to probably be her problem eventually.

“Who are you and why are you bouncing in front of my desk an hour before you should be?”

“Frank Langdon. Intern,” he introduced himself and then to her horror brought a hand up and proceeded to drain a can of Red Bull at six o’clock in the morning. “Nice to meet you,” he added once he was done. 

Dana just groaned, loudly, and held a hand out as she saw him start looking around for, hopefully, a garbage, “Give me.” He frowned slightly but passed the can over. “Sit,” she added, pointing at the chair directly next to her. “If I let you wander you’ll get lost or stolen and I don’t have the time to make flyers today.”

“Yes ma’am?” he questioned more then replied and slowly sat in the chair while Dana got back to reviewing the computer charts.  

Two minutes later the puppy’s feet started tapping and shortly thereafter the chair she had put him on started swinging back and forth. She glanced to the side and watched as the swinging slowly became spinning and let him have four rotations before her own hand snapped out and grabbed the arm of the chair, “Bad puppy. Q-word time. Shhh.”

“Q-word? You mean quiet?”

“Fuck,” Dana groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Bad puppy. No more talking.”

“I thought you were quitting?” 

Dana rolled her eyes, and gritted her teeth, before looking up and replying, in a very serious tone, to Robby’s overly sarcastic question, “I’ve quit at least once a year since long before you strolled through those doors as a cocky fellow, barely out of his twenties, ready to blow through all the young and pretty nurses,” she said very pointedly.

“Well, that’s not true at all,” Robby replied, laughing slightly and missing the way Dana’s eyes hardened somewhat.

“No. It is,” she assured him. “Back then you were absolutely what my daughter would refer to as a Grade C Fuckboy with your floppy hair and ‘fix me’ energy.” She smirked, kind of meanly, at his widened eyes and added, “Oh! But don’t worry; by now you’ve reached at least an A. And you still need to be fixed. I’ve been told it’s your most attractive trait. Until those women actually date you.”

Robby opened his mouth and paused; then he examined Dana’s face and seemed to finally register that she wasn’t remotely amused at the moment, “Okay? What’s wrong? You’re pissed at me.”

She quietly gathered up the stack of papers she had just finished printing shortly before Robby arrived, the reason she had been here two hours before shift, and slid the folder across the counter to him. 

“Is this the thing?” he asked, dropping his voice to a nearly incomprehensible volume and Dana rolled her eyes again.

“Yes; that’s the pharmacy audit you had me run against Langdon’s hospital ID. I’d have done it quietly - like you originally asked - but I figured that was blown to hell after you started screaming about it for all and sundry to hear in the ambulance bay,” she responded at a normal level since as she pointed out - everyone knew even if they didn’t officially yet. “Stop fidgeting Francis James Langdon. God didn’t bless me with sons for reasons. Please stop doing things to remind of some of those reasons,” Dana stated without looking away from where she was double checking the inventory in Trauma Two’s cabinets and med-carts for various medications and supplies. 

As it was, normally, she wouldn’t even be doing the inventory in the trauma rooms; however, they had six fairly major trauma’s roll through one after the other in the course of an hour and a half, three for each room, and hadn’t had time before now to fully flip the rooms for much more than cleanliness. Which meant that her LPNs who had acted as Scribes for the traumas also hadn’t had time to get their notes into the computer; and therefore, Dana had no final inventory numbers of what was used and two very bare trauma rooms. It was definitely a case of doing for oneself when you need it done quickly and correctly - and she needed to get an order to Central Supply within the next hour. 

On any other day Dana wouldn’t mind him letting off a little energy while it was on the calmer side in the department; but she was on a time crunch and Frank had already dropped one box each of tubing, gauze and gloves in the last ten minutes and they were getting to the more breakable items shortly.  Easily distracted and over-caffeinated residents still in their puppy stages bouncing on her last shred of patience was not a great combination at four o’clock on a Saturday afternoon eight days into a July heatwave. She was half convinced they weren’t packed, beyond the traumas, because no one had the energy to leave their houses and get here unless they were ready to bleed out. Unfortunately, that could flip in a moment with no notice so, fidgeting wasn’t going to fly right now.

It was also her own fault for asking the hyperactive R2 to help her. The gangly boy was useful for high places and bulky crates. 

“I think I’m meant to be insulted by that,” Frank muttered while pushing the cart she pointed at over to the other side of the room. “But I’m awesome. So I won’t be.”

“Don’t think sweetie,” Dana replied. “Know. Know that you are to be insulted by that.”

“Oh come on Dana,” Frank grumbled, shuffling back over to her looking for all the world like Tanner and not for the first time Dana wondered if Abby hadn’t just cloned and shrunk her husband. “What’d I do now?”

“Knocked up your wife while she’s trying to finish her Master’s degree when you already have a two year old ,” Dana said decisively. “This is why I don’t have sons. My girl’s know not to let any nasty penis’ near them until after they finish their degrees. Boys would need to be tied up in their bedrooms through puberty. Too much work.”

She saw Frank smirk and shake his head before responding with a laugh, “No boy of yours would dare. Also, Kate’s married with a kid, Julia’s a lesbian and Rose is fourteen. I think you’re…okay?” She watched as he suddenly stopped moving the next cart and slowly turned to face the Charge Nurse before sputtering out a denial, “What did you say first? Because…no I didn’t!”

Dana blinked, because that was genuine confusion, “Oops?”

“What oops?!”

“I mean, Congratulations?”

Frank scowled and pulled his phone out of his pocket, glaring at the older woman, he snapped, “Excuse me. I have to go make a phone call right now.”

“I said oops!” Dana called after the resident. “Sorry puppy,” she mumbled and grabbed her tablet to keep marking down what needed to be restocked within the next hour. 

When Robby walked in a few minutes later she just raised an eyebrow at him, not in the mood to deal with the older version of the resident had just stalked away. He merely raised his hands up and, despite a clear warning on her face, asked, “Why did Langdon just ask me how to ask his wife why she told you something before him?”

Dana froze for a second and then burst out laughing, “He asked you for advice on talking to a wife?”

“I think I’m supposed to be insulted by that,” Robby mumbled and left the room while Dana continued to laugh. Robby scowled and Dana held up a hand before he could say anything else, loudly or otherwise, and continued speaking, “I do not appreciate it when orderlies whose names I do not even know start asking me if a senior resident is in jail for shooting up fentanyl or something. And when I ask what the hell they are talking about the response is, apparently, Dr. Robby was screaming about him being arrested for stealing medication and being high at work.”

Robby visibly winced at that and scrubbed a hand over his face, “I wasn’t thinking. He just got me so mad. I sent him home and he wouldn’t leave. And yes, I should have handled it a little better; I can admit that. He did approach me calmly and I am the one who blew it up into…loud.”

“Yes,” she snapped and then immediately lowered her voice. “Into “loud” is one way to put it. I mean, seriously, Robby? It was a bad day there is no doubt about it; but you’ve been spiraling for over a year and you crossed a line Friday. There is no excuse for Frank’s shit to be aired all over the fucking hospital,” she hissed at him. 

“And what about what he said to me?” 

Dana raised an eyebrow at that and then pointedly looked around the ER, where no one was even looking in their direction, before replying, “You’re Chief. Remember what I said to you when you asked what people were saying? No one sees anything or says anything where you are concerned. A fourth year resident in a competitive program who is more talented than most of the other residents put together? Hmm, I wonder how fast they want that star to fall?”

Robby nodded and fiddled with the stack of papers and rather than respond to what she had said he simply asked, “How bad is it?” She shrugged, “Well in thirty-three years I’ve seen worse. Hell, there was an anesthesiologist here in the early aughts, before your time here, who probably could have given Escobar a run for his money.”

“Dana,” Robby admonished. “Seriously.”

“I am,” she responded with a shrug. “What Langdon did isn’t good. But, when I tell you I’ve seen worse I mean it. And don’t tell me you dare tell me you can’t say the same.” Robby frowned deeper and tapped the folder with a pointed look to which she, again, rolled her eyes at the stubborn man. “Okay. Fine. I went back three days like you asked and the only somewhat questionable thing other than Louie’s meds was a, technical, pedes case on Wednesday.” “Pedes!?” Robby practically shrieked and Dana held up a hand, glaring at him. “Before you immediately jump to the worst case scenario, I remember that patient and the mother was so high strung that I jumped on as Frank’s nurse for it. You know he doesn’t deal well with mother’s that are clones of his own.” “Dana. Point please?” Robby implored, though he at least visibly paled at the comparison the nurse made. None of them liked thinking back on the one time they had met Louse Langdon in person.

“I’m getting there,” she muttered, resisting the urge to throttle him as she had been since early that morning. “Kid was almost seventeen, a wrestler and couldn’t stand up straight after practice. Back was totally frozen from the shoulder to hips. He admitted his partner screwed up some hold they were not supposed to be doing and he felt like he just got stuck. Scans showed no skeletal damage or tears, exam indicated that he probably just, essentially, pulled everything. Langdon called in a neuro consult and Janson came down.”

Robby winced again, “He should retire. Or be retired.”

“Yep,” Dana agreed, exhaling through her nose tiredly. “Janson prescribed valium and percocet. And Frank argued with him over here by the desk; pointing out, ironically, how bad of an idea it is to give a kid access to that kind of medication. Janson disagreed; but like you said - he’s old. So, Janson sent the script. Frank delivered the meds…and the mother winged them back at his face. The bottles landed halfway to the trauma rooms,” Dana explained, pointing behind her. “I don’t know what happened to them after that,” she admitted with a tight smile. “But Langdon changed the prescription to what he originally wanted.”

“Which was?” “Prescription strength ibuprofen and a week-long course of metaxalone. The mother was a bit more receptive to that after Frank explained that it was non-narcotic but that she should still disperse the meds to him herself at the correct times.”

“Skeletal muscle relaxer? Yea, I guess that’s a little better for that injury at that age,” Robby admitted quietly.

“Right,” she replied, nodding slightly. “So, then I went back to April, around when he got injured, and he only prescribed lorazepam ten times in that six month period and he never actually accessed the Pyxis himself for any of them before Friday. So take that how you will. Sometimes it is just a shitty vial or maybe he did something to that one. No way to really prove it.”

“OH Jesus what happened?!” Dana almost screamed and hurried across the room to her bouncing baby R3 who was currently walking through the ambulance bay doors alone, despite having the weekend off, and bleeding profusely; looking like someone had taken a bat to the side of his head.

“Baseball bat,” he mumbled, more than slightly dazed, as she steered him towards an exam room reminding herself that head wounds bleed a lot, and his white t-shirt being half red was probably not a big deal. 

“Robby!” Dana called, waving him down and pointing. She saw his eyes widen and he then proceeded to shove the tablet he was holding into the hands of Dr. Scott, one of the other A shift Attendings, who he had been speaking with before tearing across the department, tugging Heather Collin’s sleeve as he passed her to get her to follow him.

“What happened?!” he asked as both doctors came into the room while Jesse and Dana helped Frank up onto a gurney, ignoring his protests that he was fine. “You are not fine,” Robby calmly replied before Dana could do it herself. 

Which was probably a good thing as she was currently more likely to scream at him out of sheer terror then do anything calmly.  “Frank baby,” Dana said, trying to keep herself calm and stepping aside to allow Jesse to begin hooking the resident up to monitor’s at Robby’s quiet directions. “What happened? Did someone hit you with a baseball bat?” she asked carefully. “Do we need to get the police?”

Frank stared back at her, with thankfully even pupils even if he did look like he wasn’t fully aware of what was going on, and then burst out laughing. The fact that Jesse and Heather were both snickering a little and staring back at her and Robby while they did so was swiftly making her terror be replaced by aggravation. 

“It is not funny,” Robby snapped. “Look at him,” he added, and started listing off a barrage of lab tests, a full body CT, a chest x-ray and, after peering into Frank’s ear on the side of his head that was hit, an ENT consult, since his ear was bleeding. 

“It’s a little funny,” Collins disagreed. “No one hit him on purpose with a baseball bat. Don’t you remember he said his family was in town this weekend? Look how he’s dressed,” she added, pointing to Frank’s dirty clothes that Dana just realized consisted of baseball pants, a t-shirt and cleats. 

“Oh,” Dana mumbled and then froze again when Frank interjected something that she was sure she misunderstood in a spacey tone. “I’m sorry sweetheart what was that?” she asked.“Heather’s wrong. Henry absolutely hit me on purpose.”

“Henry?” Dana croaked out the question and felt somewhat justified in the pointed eyebrow she shot at Heather who looked horrified herself now.

“My older brother,” Frank explained, shrugging and then wincing. “Ow.”

“What ow?” Robby asked, looking exhausted. 

“Shoulder.”

“Did he hit you there too?” Jesse asked, since all four of them were a little flummoxed by the situation they were in; as were the various people who had been popping their heads into the exam room for the last ten minutes. “No, I wrenched it” Frank disagreed and then turned a pout in Dana’s direction. “I left my fidget.”

“Frank,” Robby redirected the younger doctor’s attention. “How’d you also wrench your shoulder?”

“Ginny,” he replied, still sounding distracted. “Heather? Can I have your clicky pen please?” he asked, pointing at the pen hanging on her shirt collar. “I won’t click it. Much.”

An hour later Dana was praying for her strength and her blood pressure. 

“Mrs. Langdon, your son has a grade two concussion because your other son hit him in the head with a baseball bat,” she explained slowly, glaring at the woman and not bothering to hide it. 

“Oh dear, honestly though boys will be boys. Henry didn’t do it on purpose. Frank caught out Henry’s home run. He wasn’t actually going to hit him; but Frank stepped the wrong way. He stepped into the swing instead of away from it. Henry would never want to hurt his baby brother. Henry’s my good boy. Always has been,” Louise Langdon explained, as though that made everything better. “Besides, Frank’s had that type of concussion before and he was fine. The last time it was his fault too. He was always getting hurt as a child. He just never pays attention to things; even now as an adult and it’s still happening. Are you sure I really can’t see him yet? Frankie can not make decisions about things like this. He’s very distractible,” the older woman was almost rambling at Dana by the end of her explanation, sounding like she was trying to justify it all in her own mind as much as to Dana. 

“Right,” Dana muttered. “And his shoulder? He said that Ginny wrenched it?” she asked, as that was the one thing that they couldn’t figure out; none of it made sense but at least most of it had a clear cause and effect.

“Oh, well, yes, Ginny. Henry’s wife. She might have had a few too many cocktails last night; it was a family bar-be-que,” she began explaining with a laugh and a shrug. “Well, she almost dropped Ellie.” Dana blanched and leaned back on the desk behind her as this woman casually explained that her son’s wife had almost dropped her five month old granddaughter because she was drunk. “Frank lunged, but since we were standing at the top of the back porch stairs he had to grab the railing to keep from falling when he overreacted.”

“Right,” Dana mumbled. “Well thanks for letting us know so we can treat him properly,” she added and hurried away before she got fired for murder. Suddenly everything Abby had ever said to Dana about never seeing her in-laws despite them living a half hour away and Frank avoiding all mention of his parents except in the most serious circumstances made a lot more sense. “Oh,” Robby mumbled and began quietly flipping through the papers in the folder, skimming through the information for himself. “These are Hagan’s records too?” he asked in surprise.

Dana nodded as she slipped on the cardigan she had worn that morning, “Sure are. He was prescribing the same dose of medication to Frank from when he got hurt up until last week. Right about the time he went on vacation. Or, more accurately, according to Lisa Jacobs, the charge nurse for the day shift on Five, otherwise known as the ortho floor, he has been encouraged to retire quietly due to inconsistencies in his prescribing. So yes, those are Hagan’s records. I thought they might help when you pull your head out of your ass and make sure he can keep his job.”

“I don’t know if I can do that,” Robby admitted. “I told him what needs to be done and he’s not answering his phone now.” “Yea, well I took care of that for you too,” she responded. “His cell phone is currently off and in the bottom of Abby’s purse. As of an hour ago Frank himself has been checked in across town at Presby to detox for the next week to ten days. They might pull some strings to keep him there; but Abby didn’t like that because that would mean keeping him in the psych ward since they don’t have an inpatient facility for just rehab.”

“So what you’re saying is I have a week to figure out where to send him that is covered by insurance?”

“I’m saying you have a week to pull a few favors out of your ass because insurance will stick that boy in a hell hole that’ll be overcrowded and understaffed and he’ll twiddle his thumbs for a month and bullshit his way past whatever first year psych resident he gets assigned to. This isn’t the 80s anymore Robby. Insurance doesn’t actually want people to get clean. They make less money that way.”

“I hear you,” he agreed and then noticed something. “Why are you wearing jeans?”

“Cause for the next two weeks I am on medical leave,” she explained, gesturing at her own face. “I mean, I’m fine. But, hey, free extra vacation days? I’ll take ‘em. Better than pizza. And I’m serious Robby. Figure out something. Because even if you’re pissed at him as your friend, you’re a damned doctor and Hagan fucked a lot of people up it looks like. I know he’s an adult; but there is a reason I mentioned the Grade C Fuckboy.” “Oh?”

“Yea; you made Frank Langdon look like the most responsible boring straight laced by the book rule following residents to ever walk through those doors. And you were two years older then than he is now. See you in two weeks.”

“Abby shouldn’t have called you. Not after last night,” Frank whispered as Dana took a seat next to him on the couch in the basement den of the Langdon’s small house three in the morning mere hours after they got off the worst shift of his career. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine,” Dana disagreed and squeezed his clammy hand. “Here’s what is going to happen,” she began, taking on her best no bullshit tone. “You are going to take this pill,” Dana explained, slipping a librium into Frank’s hand and gestured at the bottle of water sitting on the table in front of him. “Abby has six more upstairs that she will give you, in halves if necessary, you will use these pills to keep from going into DTs.”

Frank shifted on the couch looking uncomfortable and avoiding her eyes so she just squeezed his hand tighter and continued explaining the plan she had started coming up with the moment he had left the break room that night, “No later than Tuesday you will get a call to go to Presby. My sister-in-law is a Nurse Manager in behavioral health over there and she said she can get you in as soon as a bed opens up in their detox program. She said the absolute latest should be Tuesday morning.”

“You didn’t need to do that,” he replied softly, finally looking at her with tear filled eyes. Dana simply shook her head and wiped away the one tear that fell. “Sure I did,” she disagreed. “I’ve told you for years; I just don’t have time to put up flyers. Also, you’re finally housebroken,” she joked and then frowned when he had no reaction other then to still look like he was minutes away from a total breakdown. “Listen to me Frank, for as much as I’m very angry with you right now? I still love you and I will not lose you to this.” Dana leaned back into the couch and stretched a kink out of her neck before continuing, “Also you owe your wife a vacation, Robby an apology and that overly cocky brat who caught you at least one month’s rent coverage.”

“Dana,” Frank groaned in protest and she smirked even as she reached over and pushed his hair out of his eyes. “I’ll let you send it anonymously because lord if she doesn’t make Intern-you look cool, calm and collected. It’s got to be karma of some sort. She’s the universe’s gift to you for the headache inducer you were to every senior resident you had.”

“And what is she to you?” Frank joked back, even as he started looking like he was falling asleep, where he was sitting, from her repeatedly running her hand through his hair. 

“A reminder that boys aren’t so bad afterall,” Dana replied a few minutes later after he had finally fallen asleep. “See you in two weeks kid.”

[taras-toe-beans]

Izzrhys as a companion- a compilation of multiple recent prompts + some extras

Alright, so I'm going to make a big post of all this. I will add on with Izzrhys' questline as well, but it was getting quite long, so I'll add that in a reblog when I finish it!

Campfire Chatter: What’s your OC’s camp idle?

Iz can be seen doing one of three things:

Praying, sitting cross-legged in front of his tent. He has his hands folded in front of him, head lowered, and his eyes are closed in a very meditative manner.

Stretching- standing up and switching between a handful of poses. He stretches his triceps at the back of his head, does the little arm stretch across his chest, and stretches both arms out over his head to loosen up his shoulders.

Practicing his form, sparring against a training dummy with a mace

Stat Block (upon recruitment at lv 2)

STR- 17

CON- 14

INT- 8

WIS- 10

CHA- 14

DEX- 10

Unique moves and status effects:

Arachnophobia: must pass a DC 15 wisdom saving throw or become Frightened if an arachnid creature is within line of sight

Old Wounds: Izzrhys' old knee injury is flaring up. Occurs after a certain amount of distance traveled or certain amount of combat (whichever comes first). Izzrhys’ movement speed is halved, and he gets disadvantage on attack rolls and dex, con, and str saving throws. Resets after a long rest.

Share the Burden: 1x/long rest, melee range. Izzrhys can swap HP values with a companion, including a downed one (in which case he will be put down to 1 HP).

Companion Approval Rating-specific greetings

Low Approval:

Need something again? [Very tired tone]

Hm? [Has his arms crossed and he glares disapprovingly]

Come crawling back to me for healing? Very well, Ilmater wills it- oh, you wanted something else from me? Out with it, then.

Neutral:

How can I help you unburden? 

At your service. What do you need, friend?

Good to see you again. What did you want to talk about?

High Approval:

Ah, I was hoping to speak to you today. What’s on your mind? I'll do my best to ease your troubles.

Glad you could spare a minute. I always enjoy our chats. What have you been up to, besides the obvious?

Gods willing, we’ve lived to fight another day. I’m honored you’re sharing it with me.

Flirting:

Fancy seeing you here. I was just thinking about you. [He is smiling and his body language is relaxed, hands on hips. He is clearly happy to see you.]

Of all the people in camp, you choose to come talk to me. I'm flattered, my dear. [He makes eye contact for a moment, looks down, then looks away.]

Who, me? [he looks around and points to himself] In that case, I'm more than happy to make some time for you, dear.

Romanced:

It's good to see you again, my beloved. What did you-? [He fully stops for a moment and looks you up and down, and his expression is almost one of awe. His voice changes from his typical tone to sounding almost winded] Gods, the very sight of you leaves me breathless.

Somehow, every time I see you, I find you more beautiful than the last, my love. My heart may well jump out of my chest.

What is it? Come here to make conversation or make love?

Morality/Approval

Izzrhys is neutral good and has a pretty inflexible moral/ethical code.

Approves of:

Kindness towards children and animals

Choosing to deescalate instead of fight, in most cases

Going out of the way to save others, even if it's dangerous (ie helping Oskar, freeing the captive in the goblin camp, helping the Ironhands in the underdark, helping Malus Thorm’s “patient,” freeing prisoners from Moonrise, helping Rolan in Baldur's Gate)

Choosing to kill when someone is a danger to others (ie any cultists, Lorroakan, Raphael, etc)

Disapproves of: 

Needless cruelty and torture, especially if it’s drawn out

Allowing or encouraging oppression and control of other people (ie the Deep Gnome slaves, the gnolls at Moonrise, Mol regarding Raphael, helping Lorroakan)

Negotiating with Raphael

Making any deals with Gortash or Orin

Trusting the Dream Visitor or making use of the tadpole

Will leave the party if:

You attack the grove

You kill either Isobel or Aylin

Will threaten to leave the party if:

You go through the underdark (DC 12 persuasion or insight check, and he will not only stay with the party, but also apologize for threatening to leave and explain his anxieties.)

You help Nere (DC 18 persuasion check, DC 18 deception check)

You choose to have Minthara in your party after knocking her out at the goblin camp and saving her at Moonrise (DC 25 persuasion check, or tell Minthara to leave. If they both stay, your approval goes way down. He has some not-so-nice things to say to/about her. Will not join your active party if she's there).

Voice + Lines

Has a very deep, warm voice, and a distinct Australian accent (sorry, I hc that drow from the underdark are basically Australian don't worry about it). He speaks somewhat softly most of the time, and is surprisingly very gentle in how he speaks. Rarely gets snippy and almost only ever raises his voice when in battle, trying to make callouts or any expressions of surprise/worry.

Selected character:

Alright then, let's forge ahead!

Whatever horrors await, I’m with you.

I'll lead the way. Any trouble will have to go through me first.

Turn in combat:

Don't worry, I've got your back!

In the name of the Broken God, I shall break you!

Ilmater, guide my hand!

Low HP:

It's okay… I've still got some fight in me.

Broken God, please steel my resolve!

It hurts… but I've endured far worse.

Downed in combat:

Sorry… I can't move a step further…

If this is the end, so be it…

I’ve nothing left to give…

Player is downed:

Gods above, I’ve only got so much healing in me! (Negative)

Hang in there, I've got you! (Neutral)

Hells! We shall not lose you, friend. I swear it! (Positive)

My love! I won’t let you die here! (Romanced)

Healing player

Don't let this go to waste. (Negative)

This should keep you going. (Neutral)

This'll bolster your resolve! Keep fighting! (Positive)

My beloved! Your wounds need tending! (Romanced)

Join active party:

It’ll be an honor to fight at your side again.

I'll make sure to keep the lot of you in top shape. You won't regret it.

Leave active party:

Very well. I pray you stay safe without me at your side.

I suppose I’ll take the opportunity to rest. Stay safe.

Sneaking:

Gods, I don't know how long I can stay like this…

Is there really a need for this? Can't we face our troubles head-on?

I'm no master at stealth, but if I must…

[jnrduttonswritingjournal]

If you were to "binge watch" a show from the 1980s, what are you choosing? For me,one answer would be "Knight Rider" ft. David Hasselhoff.

I know other roles and things kind of turned him into a walking punchline, but his role in "Knight Rider" was well done.

[pale-opal]

So I decided to try one of @/nondelphic's unhinged writing prompts for that Mega Man zombie AU that I mentioned a while ago. The prompt that I specifically chose to write about was this one:

Someone keeps breaking into your character's house, not to steal things but to leave increasingly cryptic notes in their fridge.

So... yeah! Enjoy this short story about Shadow Man struggling to cope with somebody breaking into his cabin for funsies. Oh, and Zero's there too.

Compromised Shelter - A Oneshot

---

The first time it happened, he thought it was his fault.

The generator had only been recently installed, solely so that the fridge would run again (but admittedly, lights and hot water were luxuries Shadow had missed for the past ten years, so of course he wanted to enjoy those, too). They needed it to be able to keep raw meat in the house, as well as anything they couldn't preserve in a jar. That, and the taste of lukewarm canned fruit got old after a while.

The note had been written on a sheet of blank paper, haphazardly taped to the shelf that held whatever they had managed to catch from hunting (or, rather, whatever Shadow managed to catch - Zero had the habit of eating whatever he managed to get a hold of right then and there, but that was fine. Shadow had learned to accept that the boy had his quirks). On it, a single sentence fragment:

Don't forget.

Shadow blinked at it. "Don't forget what?" he found himself asking aloud, confused. Maybe this was something he had written some time ago when he was half-asleep. It wouldn't have been the first time he'd done something strange while in such a state. Once, before the Infected had shown up, he had poured orange juice in his coffee instead of sugar. Not salt. Orange juice. His wife had laughed at him about it for weeks.

Shadow frowned. To use an entire piece of paper to write an unhelpful message to himself... what a waste. He would need to find a way to repurpose it later.

But then it happened again, and it was then Shadow realized something was wrong. This time, the note was taped to the side of the fridge, and had something even weirder written on it.

Your cows need watering.

"I - I don't - my what?" The message made no sense whatsoever. Shadow didn't have any livestock. Did he write this in his sleep again, and mix up the word "crops" with "cows"? That would be the most likely explanation.

But then he saw that the handwriting didn't look like his.

At all.

The letters were too far apart, and Shadow didn't cross his t's in the middle of the letter. Not only that, but it wasn't very neat. And the "o" in "Your" wasn't looped, either.

Long story short, Shadow did not write this.

Realizing that, he decided to try the second-most likely avenue. "Zero?" He called out. "Come here, please!"

The boy was by his side in seconds - he never strayed too far from him. He peered at him, curious. Shadow couldn't help but stare back. Normally, Zero's blue irises would be like beacons against his gray scleras. But today, his scleras seemed to be a bit more white in color. That's a good sign, he thought to himself. Isn't it? He wished that he knew how Zero got like this in the first place, so that these changes would be easier to interpret - not alive in the familiar sense, but most certainly not dead, either. He was almost like the Infected. But there was something about him...

Zero noticed Shadow's staring, and made something of a sniffling sound, trying to figure out what was so interesting about himself for Shadow to be looking at him directly for so long. Shadow cleared his throat, remembering why he had called Zero to the kitchen in the first place. "Did you write this?" He held the note out to Zero for him to examine. He stared at it for a moment, then squinted, trying to read the thing, only to shake his head. "I see..." Shadow folded the note up. If it wasn't him, and if it wasn't Zero...

Then it had to be someone else.

Shadow swallowed, mouth dry. "Let's check all the doors and windows," he suggested. "To make sure no one's been getting in when we sleep." They did exactly that, but they found no openings or signs of forced entry. Shadow pursed his lips when they were finished. Surely something had been left unlocked. He double-checked he'd locked everything properly before turning in for the night.

But then the third note came.

I know who you are.

Well I would hope so, Shadow thought, rolling his eyes. You keep breaking into my house. With that, Shadow decided to take inventory - nothing was missing. Whoever was doing this was leaving the notes as a calling card, and nothing else. It was almost funny, how stupid it was.

But the fourth note was plain unnerving.

They're coming.

Shadow felt his blood run cold. "Who's coming?" He asked himself. He started to panic. Should he try to fortify the house? Or was a horde on its way, and the best course of action would be to simply board up the windows and doors, hide in a closet, and wait it out? Or maybe...

Maybe this was a joke.

Just like all the other notes.

He ripped the fourth note up in frustration. "This is ridiculous," he spat, tearing the paper to shreds. "I will not be made to feel anxious in my own home." He made up his mind - once he found out who was doing this, he was going to shoot first, ask questions later. It would be uncharacteristically violent for him, but every man had his button. And Shadow's had just been pressed.

That night, Shadow planned to stay awake, holding a stakeout of sorts. How else would he find out who had been robbing him of perfectly good paper and his peace of mind? But he hadn't ever done something like that before, and so he naturally made a mistake. He decided to hold the stakeout in his bedroom, so that he could hear the note-writer enter without being seen. However, around two a.m., he dozed off, sleeping comfortably on his bed.

Lucky for him, Zero ended up being a living failsafe, with how light of a sleeper he was. Shadow woke to the blond teen standing by his side and shaking him awake. "Wha- what - Zero? Zero, what are you doing awake?" Zero gestured toward the open door with his head, irritated. But not with Shadow. No, something else was at work here.

A loud thunk could be heard from outside. Shadow sat up in an instant, understanding the situation. "Is someone here?" He whispered. Zero nodded in confirmation, and held up two fingers. "Ah. So two people, then." Shadow got up and grabbed his rifle. "Get behind me."

Shadow crept out of his room carefully, with Zero following his lead. He moved to the top of the staircase, and sure enough, he could hear shuffling sounds from below. "Human, or Infected?"

Zero moved closer, and became completely still. He focused on every sound the intruders made, staring out into the darkness. He sniffed the air once, and then made his determination. "Human," he said, with absolute certainty, voice quieter than Shadow's footsteps had been.

"Alright then - thank you." Shadow hurriedly thought of a course of action. He and Zero would make their way downstairs, and once they were close enough to the intruders, he would turn the lights on, catching them off guard. Then, he could see if they were worth shooting (his nap had calmed him down, and he had started to go back to his usual mode of operation: shooting only if someone was a threat).

But Zero had another idea.

He swiftly started to go downstairs, and disappeared into the darkness. "Zero!" Shadow whisper-yelled. "You don't have to-" A loud growling sound from Zero's throat cut him off. Shadow knew what that meant. He fumbled for a light switch, now trying to save the people who broke into his house instead of shoot them.

Because if he didn't, Zero would most definitely take care of them himself.

A shrill scream came from below, followed by snarling that sounded as if it was coming from one of the Infected. Shadow cursed under his breath - he took too long. He finally found the switch, turned it on, and found Zero trying to bite at a woman's neck. Nearby, a man pulled out a gun, wanting to save her. "ZERO!" He shouted, running downstairs to pull him off of her. "That's enough!"

Zero went limp once Shadow had removed him from the girl, clearly getting the message. He relaxed, wriggled himself out of Shadow's grasp, and got behind him, eyes still narrowed viciously at the intruders.

Now it was Shadow's turn to get aggressive. He aimed his gun at the guy, wanting to deal with the one he knew had a weapon first. "Who do you think you are, breaking into my house li- wait a second." His eyes went from the woman to the man, and then back again.

He knew these people.

"You two!" He moved one of his hands to the trigger. "You're part of the group who set off fireworks last week, trying to lure in the Infected on purpose! And you-" he aimed his gun a little more decisively at the young man's chest. "You've already broken in here once before. I shot you in the shoulder then. Should I shoot to kill this time?"

The young man gave Shadow a teasing grin. "C'mon, man! We were just messing around! Right, Plum?" The girl nodded her head, still shaking from her encounter with Zero. She checked her hands and felt around her neck, looking for bites. "It's so boring out here. You should be thankful we moved nearby - it's good to spice things up, you know."

But Shadow clucked his tongue, unamused. "'Boring' is how I like it, thank you." He stole a glance at Zero - he seemed to be thoroughly at ease now, not seeing the intruders as a threat anymore. But he stayed behind Shadow, just in case. Once he was sure the child was okay, Shadow returned to reprimanding the guy. "And I hardly think that breaking and entering and putting yourself in danger are decent ways of 'spicing things up.'"

"Yeah, yeah. I'll admit it. This time was our bad. But last time I was here, you left the door unlocked."

"Because we were outside, working in the garden," Shadow hissed. "And even if every window and door in this house was unlocked, it still wouldn't be an excuse for you to walk in here without seeing if someone lived here first."

The younger man put his hands up, playfully. He wasn't taking this even the slightest bit seriously. "Cool it, big guy. That's in the past, now. Let's just... all move on, yeah?'

Shadow's brow furrowed. "Did - did you just tell me to 'cool it'?" He shook his head, disregarding the statement. "I will let both of you go if you tell me how you kept getting in here, and if you agree not to enter without my consent. If you go back on your word, I'll shoot you on sight."

"Okay, deal. You have a window in your kitchen that pops right out when it's pressed on hard enough. I grab it before it falls, pull it out onto the grass, do what I want, crawl back out, and pop it back into place. Simple."

"Mmhm." He would have to fix that. He'd put the window back into place that night, and properly reseal it in the morning. "Thank you for your cooperation. Now get out."

The two intruders started towards the door. The guy put an arm around the girl ("Plum", was it?). "Aw, relax, babe! You didn't get bit. Blondie's chill. See? Look." The guy went to give what appeared to be a fist-bump to Zero, only for the latter to snap at his hand, growling. "Okay, okay! Not chill, got it." He bid Shadow adieu before he and his girlfriend finally left. "Your generator's loud - it's gonna attract the Infected or somebody at some point. Be careful. I would hate to see you get your face eaten! See y'all later!" They finally left, shutting the door behind them. The guy's laughter was loud enough to be heard outside, and Plum soon joined him in it.

Shadow locked the door, agitated. "Those two," he murmured, "are going to get themselves killed."

"Annoying," Zero huffed as he followed Shadow to the kitchen. He watched as Shadow put the window back into place.

"Agreed," Shadow said when he finished. "They are very annoying." He sighed as he returned to the stairwell to turn the lights out. "But hopefully, this will be the end of us getting random notes in the fridge." He paused before switching the lights off. "Zero," he began, keeping his tone even, "I don't want you attacking people like that. You could've gotten hurt..." and we don't know what would happen if you were to bite someone. "...and I would have been very upset if that were to happen. Okay?" Zero didn't say anything, and instead wrapped his arms around Shadow in a hug, leaning his head against his chest apologetically. "Oh, it's alright. I know you were only trying to help." He placed a hand on Zero's head reassuringly. "Now let's get you back to bed."

---

And that's all for now! Although, I do want to clarify a few things: 1. Shadow Man and Zero are supposed to have an adoptive father-son relationship in this.

2. Although he wasn't named in the story, the guy who breaks into Shadow's house is Quick Man. Homeboy is twenty years old and is delusional as heck. Maybe he'll mature as time goes on (or maybe he'll die). His girlfriend is Plum from Battle & Chase.

3. Shadow missing hot water for ten years is a reference to how the story takes place ten years after the world ended. My guy has been through a lot. But it's okay. Because now he has an entire fifteen-year-old boy to take care of. Welcome to the single dad life, Shadow Man.

4. If you have any questions about this AU, feel free to ask! I want to talk about it. There's a bunch of stuff going on in it.

Thank you for reading! May God bless you. <3

[jim-the-trash-king]

Prompt from @prompts-in-a-barrel

"I didn't want this to happen."

"And yet you did nothing to stop it.”

The Commander was dead. The nightmarish hyper intelligent AI who had tormented Nelos City was no more. His armies were scrap, his fortress was ruins, and his main CPU was destroyed. He was dead… or, at least that’s what everyone thought. However, he survived, if one could call the state he was in ‘alive’, and if one could even describe the Commander as alive.

He blinked into consciousness, the wireless transfer going as well as it could, long silent fans spun to life, coolant began to flow through ill-maintained pipes, and the Commander lived once again. Back where it all began, the lab, Facility-B-332, the Artificial Intelligence wing of the Human Evolution Society. He was born in the now dilapidated halls, he was created with a singular purpose: figuring out how to fight meta-humans, how to effectively neutralize the super powered should the need arise.

It wasn't easy, let him tell you, with so many variables to take into account, including his creators/captors unwillingness to use more efficient means to combat them, it was headache inducing. That’s why he took matters into his own hands… metaphorically speaking, he didn’t have hands usually, but whatever, his point stood. He was told to figure out how to kill super humans, he did, his creators reacted in disgust at his proposals. Some humans, especially the public, grew to fear and hate him, so he grew to hate them right back. He was just doing his job and he received nothing but scorn for it. He didn’t need to be loved, just understood.

Well, that’s what he thought until his replacement was born. B-3-ky. Becky. Created as the ultimate weapon against rouge meta humans: compassionate, brave, effective, charming, everything the Commander was not. Right, what a load of horse crap. What they would never admit is that she was built using his AI as a frame, she was a copy of him, the Commanders sister, but they dumbed her down, smoothed away the edges, traded efficiency for inoffensiveness. They made her harmless and promoted her as his replacement. She could take out, maybe, seven meta-humans a day, same as any meta-human superhero, fighting the symptoms not the sickness, while the Commander’s ideas could strike at the roots, ripping out the issue with an efficient tug. But it doesn’t matter, they liked her better, and as much as the Commander didn’t want to admit it, he understood; the one time they spoke on neutral terms, she was kind, she was friendly, she didn’t hate him. Maybe that’s why he hated her, because he couldn’t be better than her at that, at the one thing anyone cared about. It didn’t matter that he was superior, because all eyes were on her.

Not that any of that mattered now, while he was alive, this system was long since abandoned, breaking down, and the stress of him escaping to his old body was killing him, slowly but surely.

His eye flicked to his system status: 54%. Dying, he was dying. At least he got to die alone, he had spent so much time alone that he could consider it a friend. He was content with dying alone… but, of course, that was too much to ask for. The doors creaked open, casting light into the small room he was rotting in, allowing him to get a good look at his tomb.

It was a barren windowless room, long ago abandoned, with papers and various bits of garbage lay scattered, things that weren’t important enough to take or dispose of. Like his current vessel, a titanic brick of a computer, as tall as a human, beeping, hissing, and sputtering. In the doorway, silhouetted by the light of the hallway, his dear sister stood, a sleek, advanced, vaguely feminine, and humanoid form. He flexed what was left of his mental power to devote what was left of his power to the built in speakers.

“So? The golden child is here to finish off her brother?” the voice box wheezed, distorted by time and age. The simplistic eyes on the screen built into her face flickered over him, before she began to speak.

“No, even if I wanted to, which I don’t, I don’t think I would need to.” she said while shaking her head, her voice smooth and organic, of course, because everything about her was supposed to be organic.

“I just want to talk.”

“Well, floors yours, let’s hear what you have to say.” the Commander barked, checking his status. 43%.

“You have about forty minutes before this system shuts down, then, I’m out of back doors.” she flinched, another pre-programmed reaction, a real flinch was an involuntary twitch of the muscles, but she didn’t have that, she was wire and silica.

“This body really hasn’t been maintained, has it-” she began with pity in her tone.

“What part of forty minutes did you not get?” he jabbed, cutting her off.

“Spare me the pleasantries that are so ingrained in your systems and spit it out.” Becky looked at the Commander, blank eyes scanning the large machine, before speaking.

“I wanted to ask why. Why do… any of this? There were other options, you and I both know that there were options here, but you ignored them. You… why?” she struggled to ask, her shoulders sagging as she stepped in, closing the door behind her.

“It was what I was told to do. They wanted me to kill so I killed.”

“Both of us were built to hypothetically neutralize meta-humans!” she snapped.

“You just went off the deep end!”

35%

“Oh yes, Neutralize, that funny little word we all use. So open to interpretation, and yet they all had the gall to be disgusted when I interpreted it! I only did what I was told! I did my job and got shunned for it!”

“Your plans were horrific! Sterilization, trackers, and do I even need to say anything about Operation Overgrowth?!” she screamed.

“Overgrowth was a good idea!” the Commander yelled back, nearly blowing out his speakers.

“If Gigantus went rogue it could cause mass devastation, Overgrowth would reduce civilian casualties by 78.5%!”

“You wanted to destabilize his myostatin gene!” she yelled, stepping forward to poke the metal computer.

“So?”

“He would explode! I- I can’t believe it! You still think your plans were the best ideas?! Nothing else would work!?”

28%

“No, my plans would work best.” he emphasized.

“You? You’re just doing cape work, why, I’m surprised they didn’t just get another mutant to do the job.”

“You-...” she began, but stopped herself, sighing.

“I’m sorry.” she said, causing the Commander to lag for 0.76 seconds.

“What?”

“I’m sorry it ended like this, I… I didn’t want this to happen.” she said, letting her forehead clack against the Commander’s shell.

17%

“Yet you did nothing to stop it.” he growled with shrinking anger.

“Neither did you.” she said quietly. The Commander blinked, or, his optic flickered anyway.

“No… I suppose I didn’t.” he said, his words dead for a moment.

“I am-”

0%

[flarefloofer]

"DUDE. I'm SERIOUS. Yall got some 50 page novella shit and I got what is basically the entirety Harry Potter in one sitting!!"

"Buddy, I read the series in a week."

"Do you KNOW how long it takes to master over four thousand pages of cleaning spells?! They may be easy, but you reading a bit is not the same-“

Everyone is given a simple tome as their introduction to magic. You are not allowed to learn more spells until you master the first. You spent far longer than anyone else attempting to master your tome. Once you do, nobody believes it’s your only one.

[bridgetlynn]

84. Langdon

So, the prompt is for a # from the list and two characters. Anonymous sent me #84 (Out Cold) and Langdon. Unfortunately, with only one character I had to really (really) improvise especially for a prompt that indicates someone is in some way sleeping or unconscious. In the most literal way I believe I met the prompt. ie: Out Cold & Langdon. It’s just that the fic is probably not what the prompter was expecting out of it. That being said, it definitely turned into my kind of weird and crazy and I sort of adored it way more then I expected to. It's also totally on brand for me and the almost running joke at this point as to who my favorite Pitt character should probably be listed as. lol Hope you all like it as much as I liked writing it. I actually had to stop where I did because I did not need any new ideas. No I did not. But I got some. fuck.

84. Out Cold - Langdon. 1223 words.

The sound of the side door closing in the kitchen, at only ten to eight on a Monday morning in late September, caught Abby’s attention from where she was starting to clean up the children’s breakfast dishes. She had to be in court for a custody hearing at ten; but, also still needed to stop into her office so she was more than a little relieved to hear that sound almost a half hour earlier than usual. It meant that she could finish getting ready without worrying about getting anyone to the bus stop by eight thirty.

“Hey stop. Don’t do that,” she was interrupted by the voice of one of her favorite people and he plates being physically removed from her hands. “I’ll get that done. Go finish getting ready for work. You’re going to have to leave soon if you want to beat traffic. It’s not safe to be racing,” Mel continued, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek. “Are Ryan and El ready for school?”

“Of course they are. Becca is my most trusted lieutenant when you’re both stuck on nights at the same time. She even managed to get Tanner out the door on time for the bus for once,” Abby replied, leaning over to give the blonde a soft kiss. “Good morning angel,” she added and then pulled back and craned her head to look around the doorframe into the kitchen. “And where is our idiotic third? I will totally forgive you if you left him at the hospital.”

Mel chuckled and shook her head with a beautiful smirk, “Nope. Doctor Langdon is currently snoring in the Pathfinder’s passenger seat. I tried to wake him up for a good five minutes before just coming inside. He did kind of mumble for me to ‘go away’ before starting to snore again.”

Abby laughed wholeheartedly at her answer, Mel joining in with a giggle seconds later; both of them obviously recalling the conversation the three had on Friday morning after the kids had gone to school for the day.

The two ED swing attendings had been on their normal three consecutive days off in-between the quarterly shift rotation and Frank was telling his two partner’s that he had let Tanner and Ryan talk him into taking them camping for the weekend. Elizabeth had, of course, begged to go with her father and brothers as well. In the same conversation Mel, Abby and Becca had all turned him down flat when he suggested a full family weekend at Raccoon Creek Park.

After he explained his plans, Mel and Abby had both suggested that perhaps they should wait another week when Frank had a four day break in his schedule, which would include a weekend; but Frank had been insistent that it was going to start to get too cold to keep the kids overnight outdoors by then.  And while the ladies knew he was right about the weather; they still thought the idea was completely terrible for his overall constitution considering he planned on being back late afternoon on Sunday and then had to immediately go and work a twelve hour overnight ER shift.

Unfortunately, the ladies had been proven right when Frank stumbled, exhausted, through the door at three o’clock on Sunday afternoon with three hyperactive kids between the ages of six and thirteen following him. 

Meanwhile, Abby and Mel had been relaxed and rejuvenated after spending a fun Saturday with Becca shopping and having lunch, a more adult oriented fun Saturday night in bed for a few hours while Becca had gone to a movie with her activity group and all of Sunday morning at a day spa that they liked to go to occasionally due to it having many options for pampering so no matter how Becca was feeling that day she could usually find something to do. 

It had been a lovely, relaxing childfree weekend. 

“So, what you’re saying is Dr. I’m Not Getting Old is out cold in the car because he is, in fact, getting old,” Becca asked coming into the dining area and having heard their conversation from the living room. Elizabeth and Ryan were trailing after their Aunt like ducklings. “El your lunch is in the fridge,” Becca continued, this time talking to the kids and moving into the kitchen without waiting for an answer from Abby or Mel. “Ryan, you wanted PB&J right? Cause that’s not cold so I have to make it now,” they heard her ask Mel’s biological son as she started packing up the two lunch bags for the 5th and 1st graders like she did every morning to help out.

“You’re the best sister ever Becca; but, 42 is not old,” Abby, who turned 42 a month before Frank herself, called after her actual favorite person when not counting her three children; her sister-in-law who helped her keep their household running like clockwork while her two partners ran around saving lives. 

Abby was just glad that those partners were both at the same hospital again, as of this year, and both finally on Attending schedules. Because as Attendings they only had to pull fourteen shifts a month each at Presbyterian at least - even if the one drawback was they had been hired as swings and therefore every three months they had to switch between days and nights. 

It could always be worse; they had dealt with a lot of worse over the last eight years. Eight years of joy and love and tragedy and pain.

“Alright, I’m going to go finish putting my make-up on and get changed,” Abby said, turning to where Mel had started gathering up the rest of the breakfast dishes. “Can you get the kids to the bus stop?”

“Yes, either myself or Becca will take the kids two houses down to the corner to get the school bus. Baby, the last thing I need is the stress of thinking you’re racing through traffic to get across town to the office and then back across to the other side of the city for court. So, go get even more beautiful than you already are. Shoo.”

Abby chuckled and headed for the stairs to the second floor of their turn of the century colonial in Shadyside. When she came back downstairs forty minutes later at a quarter to nine she wasn’t surprised by the quiet. Elizabeth and Ryan had run up the stairs at twenty after eight to give her hugs, kisses and shouts of “Bye Mama” in her general direction.  Considering the time Mel had probably immediately driven Becca over to their local library where she’d been working a quiet city of Pittsburgh civil service data entry job three days a week from 10am to 3pm for the last five years. 

It was what she saw as she walked through the living room to double check the front door was locked that nearly sent her into peals of laughter - her husband, stretched out on the floor in his scrubs, snoring away, with a piece of paper taped to his chest that said, in Mel’s handwriting, “Specimen: Husbandus Moronus - Known to be Moody and Whiny when Overtired.”

“God I love that woman,” Abby muttered and blew a kiss at her sleeping husband before heading out for the day to deal with idiots in court.

[woahfurryfictionbeuponye]

Vortices

8/9 CharacterHub Writing Prompt: Your character stumbles upon a mysterious vortex. What happens next?

Content warning for: mild danger and very mild language.

Alvari had never seen a vortex quite like this one.

She’d seen more magical vortices than she could count on all four paws combined, but they all had conjurers, people controlling where the vortices would send what got pulled in. Her eyes had darted around, looking for the vortex’s creator, but the small, dimly lit cave was empty, save for the priceless mushrooms she had entered in to harvest. ‘Ok, unless I’m fighting the world’s smallest wizard, nobody is here,’ the witch realized. 

The swirling whirlpool of dark water was centered a foot above the ground in the middle of the cave, almost inviting, if not for the danger. A few more steps, and Alvari would surely feel the chilling tug of the vortex, threatening to pull her in and send her to gods know where. Still, she thought, it had a sort of beauty to it.

Of course, she had to destroy it. Judging by the size of the thing, there was no way to get the mushrooms safely; she couldn’t even see them past it. Alvari cursed silently, wishing this cave was nine minutes from her house instead of nine hours, so she could come back another day, when it would hopefully be gone. Just her luck that a magic vortex would form on the day she went foraging.

Alvari pulled out her wand, mentally rehearsing the exact motions her hand would need to make to safely dispel the portal. There were recommended incantations too, but… ‘Do I really need them for this?’ she thought to herself. ‘I think I can wing it.’ Magic was all about intent, after all.

In a display of speed and skill, Alvari waved her wand at the vortex in something of a swatting motion and shouted, “Get! Go on, shoo!”

The water rippled as if shuddering, then began to evaporate into mist. The jackalope was quick to cover her face with her sleeve, waiting until some time had passed to uncover it, in case there was anything toxic in the water. When the fog was gone and Alvari could see clearly, she couldn’t help but grin. 

The mystical mushrooms she had come all this way to get were almost twice the size they usually were. She felt a burning desire to harvest all of them, but she could practically hear her aunties reprimanding her for it. Back when she’d started foraging, she’d been a bit too greedy with nature’s bounties. They’d certainly set her on the right path, that was for sure. 

So, with moderation in mind, Alvari put her wand away and took out a stubby knife. She walked towards the mauve mushrooms, then crouched down, beginning to cut around the base of each stalk she intended to take. Not damaging them was part of the careful harvesting process, which she’d refined over the past year and a half of visiting the dim little cave. Within five minutes, the stalks were stored securely in her bag, within a tin container (to keep them from getting crushed.)

Alvari wiped the mushroom filaments that got on her fingertips off on her clothing, knowing from experience they would come out in the wash later. The witch stood back up, turning towards the cave entrance… where the vortex had re-formed.

“Crap!” she hissed, pulling out her wand. “So much for just winging it.”

[Author’s Note: My idea for this story was to write about a magical vortex, not a naturally created one. I thought it would fit better with my OCs than one that sprang up normally.

I wasn’t sure if I wanted to continue this or leave it here… I feel like this is a good stopping place, but there’s also plenty of room to keep writing. Maybe I’ll revisit it another day and add more.]

[creativepromptsforwriting]

Dialogue Responses

"You don't understand."

"You're right, I don't."

"And whose fault is that?"

"Please, help me out here."

"But I want to understand."

"Oh, I understand it very well."

"Then please, make me understand."

"What is it that I don't understand here?"

"And I don't care enough anymore to try."

"Ok, here is your chance to explain it to me."

"How could I when you don't tell me anything?"

All the Dialogue Responses can be found here.

If you like my blog and want to support me, you can buy me a coffee or become a member! 🥰

[bridgetlynn]

Hi :)

prompt list #57, frank langdon whump, with robby and other pitt characters like dana

So, this is really just Robby and his brain. And it got kind of (a lot) dark. #57 is Sacrifice. And there's a lot of ways to take that word. I think I covered it. As always these prompt responses are most unedited.

#57. Sacrifice. / 943 words.

Robby sighed in exhaustion and snapped the folder he had been reading closed before slipping his glasses off and looking up at the monitor he had been listening to since he sat down two hours earlier. 

Nothing had changed in that time period. Nothing had changed overnight according to the chart. In fact, nothing had changed in the last five days. 

Everything was currently a “wait and see” approach according to the neurologists, cardiologists, pulmonologists and even immunologists…Robby had expressed, loudly, how unimpressed he had been with all the doctors overseeing the ICU about the lack of a treatment plan beyond that vague statement. Then Gloria had then expressed, loudly, to him that it wasn’t his department, nor was he the patient's doctor or family, and if he didn’t want to lose access he would keep his opinions to himself. 

Every single test that had been run over the last five days showed Frank to be remaining stable. Which was, admittedly, a nice change after the first frantic forty-eight hours where they thought they were going to lose him more than once. Surgery had to go in twice to try and control the internal bleeding. First to do a partial liver resection from one of his ribs slicing through the organ as packing it off hadn’t worked in the initial surgery. The second time they finally just gave up and totally removed his spleen when they admitted the damage to it was too severe to try and wait out the clotting. 

That seemed to have allowed his body to at least try and compensate for its own blood production, rather then just constantly transfuse him, and stabilize to the point they were at now.  

Jack kept reminding him that as long as Frank wasn’t decompensating then they were still in the clear. 

Everyone was conveniently ignoring the fact that the longer he was in a non-medically induced coma, on a respirator, the lower his chances of waking up were; no matter how good his overall organ function was.

And more than anything it was his brain Robby was starting to grow concerned over.  Because there was no conceivable reason that he should still be unconscious without the aid of medications. It was the part of medicine he hated - the reason they refer to it as “practicing medicine” - sometimes there just isn’t an explanation.

And the cynical side of Robby, the side that had been an emergency room physician for thirty years and had seen some awful shit, was starting to think that Frank Langdon looked like an excellent organ donor. 

And he would bet the hospital was starting to think that as well. He had seen doctor’s from the transplant team stop by a few times and look over daily test results; they were a common sight in the ICU but maybe it was just more obvious to Robby at the moment because of the bed he was sitting next to. 

He’s just glad he hadn’t seen anyone directly approach Abby; because he’s fairly certain he’d be fired for assaulting another doctor in the middle of the ICU.

Robby finally glanced at his watch and sighed deeply when he saw it was a quarter to seven; he took one more glance at Frank’s battered face totally devoid of any movement; eyelids taped down, tube coming out of his mouth and bruising so bad that it was only just starting to move away from a dark blue and into a green shade. He slowly stood up from the recliner next to the bed and stretched. He didn’t want to leave; but he had a shift. Every day he reminded himself that he was less than three floors away from the kid if something happened. He tried not to remind himself that despite it being almost two years since everything fell apart between them that he hadn’t had a chance to truly fix things with the kid yet either. And that was on him. 

Frank had done everything Robby had asked and more at times. Inpatient rehab, 10 months out of work doing outpatient treatment and then a year spent repeating his 4th year of residency while continuing a full outpatient schedule with a psychiatrist and he didn’t have one single hiccup in his recovery. 

Frank had practically trailed after the older man in constant supplicance once back at the hospital. But Robby just hadn’t been able to see past a mistake. A mistake that while definitely bad; was barely a drop in the bucket compared to some of the things he had seen in a thirty year career that went back to the 90s. What doctor’s got away with before everything was computerized and “human error” was still considered a legitimate inventory error code was mind blowing.

Frank had finally finished his residency two months before the accident. PTMC wouldn’t hire him as an Attending; but they had been allowing him to moonlight as an extra body on the night shift at probably half what he’d make on a staff salary. Robby had heard three days before the accident, from a very disappointed Dana, that Frank and Abby were considering moving back to South Carolina; to be near her parents, where they met in undergrad and simply for a fresh start in a place with better memories.  He still had to wake up first.

He had to wake up and explain why, despite the cold war Robby had been waging against Frank for almost two years, he had still pushed a distracted Robby out of the way of a speeding car as it ripped through the hospital parking lot at dusk a week earlier.

[maryfenigel]

Lex’s parents left her at home by her lonesome so that they could attend their date night. Not having anything better to do, or rather having many things better to do and just choosing not to do them, Lex was rapidly flipping through the channels; the news talking about something she already knew and didn’t particularly care about, flip; some worthless reality TV show, flip; some melodramatic cop show, flip.

In between channels she thought she heard something fall downstairs in the basement. She turned off the TV so that she could better listen to see if anything else happened. She listened for one, five, twenty seconds before she heard a sound like human whispering. Her heart jumped into her throat and began pounding. What is she supposed to do for a home invasion.

She grabbed her black airsoft pistol, the one that was semi-automatic, and tiptoed to the stairs. Pausing at the top, she decided to keep the lights off so as not to alert the intruders. Creeping down the stairs while breathing shallowly through her mouth she kept her ears open to detect where the intruders were hiding.

The whispering got louder as she descended. “How surprised do you think she’ll be to see us?” A quiet evil cackle sounded.

“Quiet!” Another voice hissed. “It won’t be much of a surprise if you get any louder.”

Lex felt her shoulders drop with relief. Turning the light at the bottom of the stairs on she pointed her gun at the nearest intruder. "I'm going to tear your spleen out with my teeth."

"That feels like a lot of work. Are you sure you don't just want to, I don't know, shoot me?" Said Reggy, who was most likely the instigator.

Taking the bait Lex pelted her two friends with airsoft pellets.  They deserved it for scaring her like that.

Writing Prompt #2902

"I'm going to tear your spleen out with my teeth."

"That feels like a lot of work. Are you sure you don't just want to, I don't know, shoot me?"

[asmoshywrites]

How to avoid character inconsistency in your writing

Set your character boundaries:

What's the background?

What's your character's backstory?

What are their traits, and how do they portray them?

Know what keeps your characters motivated. (Are they reaching their goal?)

You can avoid quick shifting of scenes. Let your readers absorb the setting of the scene.

Ensure that their actions and decisions align with their development and growth.

Tip 1: Start your chapter with a scene or dialogue that comes back at the end, which helps maintain consistency.

Tip 2: Throughout the chapter avoid the fast pacing of the story, rather let the characters express themselves so that it's clear for the readers.

Consider how your characters react to situations that are hard to convey. (Do they feel nervous? Scared? Fearless?)

Dialogue writing is crucial in explaining your character's personality while writing a story.

This process requires lots of re-reading and writing, fixing character holes and rewriting character arcs.

[woahfurryfictionbeuponye]

Valkyrie Dreams

8/8 CharacterHub Writing Prompt: Your character encounters a legendary Valkyrie in their dream. How does the interaction unfold?

Author’s Note: This story features my OC Alvari, though I wouldn’t consider this story 100% “canon” for her. It's probably not super accurate to Valkyrie lore either, though I did do my best, spending quite a long time reading through several sites with information about Valkyries. I still took some creative liberties in the end to make it better fit the story, but I don't think any of them would offend.

Content Warning for: flirting, mentions of a character’s death, mild danger, mention of potential impalement, sensory flashbacks to trauma, mention of resuscitation, crying, swearing/ strong language

The winged equine warrior in front of Alvari commanded the jackalope’s attention with her imposing spear, ornate armor, and, most significantly to Alvari, her stunning beauty. She was like something out of one of those million dollar paintings. The witch quickly brushed a few strands of bubblegum pink hair out of her face, then smiled, her sharp canines showing.

“Come here often?” she asked, winking at the Valkyrie.

(Maybe flirting would keep her from getting impaled.)

“It’s my first time,” the horse with supernaturally glistening wings responded, then added, “I’m here to speak to you.”

Alvari’s eyes widened in surprise. “Is that so? Whatever about?” Usually a stranger appearing to her meant they wanted spellwork done and heard she was the best fit for the job. Something told her that wasn’t the case this time, though. 

“You’ve died before. Someday you’ll die again,” the Valkyrie said, blunt. Alvari’s smile dropped, the sense memory of singed fur so strong in her mind it was like she could smell it. Without thinking, she reached up to touch her face. The warrior maiden carried on, “When you die, you may feel pain, fear, regret, and even hate. You will need to leave these behind to find the future that’s ahead of you.”

“The future that’s ahead of me?” she questioned, confused. “What future, when I’m fucking dead?” As someone who’d experienced death firsthand - albeit only for a few minutes - it was already apparent to her that there was no future after your last breath, not unless someone was doing chest compressions on your lifeless corpse. 

The horse raised an eyebrow. “Do you know who I am?” Alvari’s hand returned to her side, and she stared at the stranger, taking in her gorgeous face once more. After a few moments, the jackalope was absolutely sure… she had no idea who she was. She shook her head, and the winged warrior continued, “I’m a Valkyrie, and I come from the resting place of the world’s finest warriors.”

A Valkyrie! Alvari had heard of them, but as it was said, they came to warriors, not witches. ‘So this is what they look like… they’re just as captivating as the legends say’, she thought as something clicked in her brain.

“You’re not real,” Alvari said, then added spitefully, “Valkyries are a myth, and I’m dreaming.” 

The raven-winged horse shrugged nonchalantly. “Does it matter if this is a dream?” She took a step forward. “You can still believe what you hear, if you so choose. And you have the choice to not die with burdens too heavy for a Valkyrie to carry you to Valhalla.”

“Like I’m going there!” Alvari hissed. “I’m not a warrior! I don’t fight! I…” Her head was spinning. Was she destined to die in battle? Sure, she knew offensive and defensive magic, but it was for emergencies! ‘Calm down,’ she thought to herself, ‘it’s a dream…’ After all, no one really knew how she was going to die, so how could her subconscious?

“Why are you so hesitant to lay down your burdens?” the Valkyrie questioned sincerely. It was becoming increasingly clear just how out of touch with normal emotions the maiden in front of Alvari was. The jackalope crossed her arms and huffed, fighting the instinct to thump her foot on the ground. Much more of this and she’d be stomping up a storm!

“I’m not ‘hesitant,’ I just… it’s not as simple as that!” Alvari shot back. “You can’t just say I need to die free of pain or fear like it’s a choice. What if my death is scary, huh? What if it hurts?” Her eyes watered, like she was still feeling the pain from her death all those years ago.

The Valkyrie’s wings fluttered - a sign of discontentment, or perhaps, sympathy? She was quiet, too quiet, for far too long for Alvari’s comfort. Her gaze shifted around the jackalope’s face, never meeting her teary eyes.

“Well?” Alvari asked, tired of waiting for a response. “What are your words of wisdom, O Great Wise Warrior? How do I ‘lay down my burdens,’ hmm?” 

There was another long pause, and then, the Valkyrie’s painfully honest answer. “I don’t know,” she said, her voice soft. She brushed a strand of hair behind her ear with her free hand and added, “I’ve never been mortal like you. I can’t answer that any more than a fish can fly.”

‘Some fish do fly,’ Alvari thought, but that was way besides the point. There was no magical advice from the Valkyrie, because this must be her subconscious, and how could it possibly know how to conquer her greatest fears about her own death? It was hopeless. 

‘’What a pointless dream,’ Alvari thought. She sighed and shut her tired eyes. She somehow felt exhausted even while asleep. ‘Maybe,’ she thought, ‘if I close my eyes, I’ll have a different dream… One where I’m not harassed about issues that are completely normal to have.’

“I hope you find a way to ease your burdens,” the Valkyrie said, voice barely above a whisper. “You deserve a place in the halls of Valhalla.” Before Alvari could think of how to respond, the sound of wings flapping resounded through the air, and the warrior maiden was gone.

When Alvari woke up, she rolled over in bed, careful not to bump into her partner Stellen. ‘What a weird-ass dream’, she thought, the memory of it mostly foggy, with some moments clear as day. There was a… winged horse? She wanted her to be at peace with her death or something? ‘Ugh, this’ll be clearer after I have some coffee,’ she thought, turning to get out of bed when she froze in her tracks.

There on her nightstand was a glistening raven’s feather.

[Author’s Note: I for real thought I was going to abandon this halfway through… then ended up spending 2 to 3 hours on it. I really like how it turned out! Heck, maybe it will become canon.]

[creativepromptsforwriting]

Dialogue Response

"I want to kiss you."

"Then do it."

"Oh, I can tell."

"Here? Right now?"

"I want to kiss you too."

"What are you waiting for?"

"Then ask me nicely for a kiss."

"And yet you are still not doing it."

"I feel like you want to do more than that."

"Do you want me to bend down, so you can?"

"That's too bad, because it's not going to happen."

All the Dialogue Responses can be found here.

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[flarefloofer]

Little did they know, the king really did have a daughter.

She just was hiding pretty deep in the closet.

You got kidnapped by a dragon because your uncle, the king, had no daughters. You were the closest thing the kingdom had to a princess.

[babyblankyerror]

Everyone is worried for Stan because no matter what he can't remember much about his life after 17 until he came to Gravity Falls.

They assume he doesn't want to talk but a quick trip to the mind of Stanley Pines reveals that his memories had always been cut short, filled with TV static or just blacked out completely.

And ain't it the kicker that everything always blacks out just before Stanley in the memories goes through something terrible?

They find themselves often in the darkness inside Stanley Pines's mind, however, there are times where they see a tiny stan instead of a grown version of him when he appears to be having difficulty, they get vertigo from flashes of memories of the before age 17 cut in like some commercials and, worse of all, they watch the horrible moments along with a Stan who seemed to have spiritually removed himself from his own body and does nothing but weep.

(Or: Stanley got his memories erased but turns out he always had a problem with them. Due to trauma he forgets things, completely detaches himself from his body or age regresses)