Context:  the party (a were-cat rogue named Socks, a tiefling fighter named Tinawamach, a half-dragon half-ghaele named Nik, an aasimar wizard named Hypatia, a cat-spirit named Kitsume, and a wild elf wizard named Aramil) is in a battle against 2 human zombies, a troglodyte, a wolf skeleton, and an owlbear skeleton.  One of the human zombies has already died, and each of our wizards have used one offensive spell.

Tinawamach (OOC): [to Hypatia (OOC)] You should seduce the human zombie!

Hypatia (OOC): I need to save my spells so I might!

It reaches Hypatia’s turn.

Hypatia: I seduce the zombie!

DM: Roll a charisma check

Hypatia: [succeeds] Well hi there, sugar!  I’m sure you don’t wanna be attackin’ us! [bats eyelashes]

DM:  It moves closer to your face but it is not trying to attack you

Hypatia:  Well don’t you have a pretty…eye

DM:  Roll to see if you are sickened

Hypatia: [fails, vomits] It’s not you sugar…it’s…it’s me…

A round or so passes and Hypatia is no longer sickened.

DM:  Hypatia, the zombie’s jaw falls off but it is still looking at you with one bedroom eye

Hypatia (OOC): [starts playing Careless Whisper]

Kitsume: I try to get the zombie away from Hypatia [succeeds]

Hypatia: [pulls out her dagger] I am gonna stab my beau! [misses]

Socks: I am going to convince the zombie that if it dies, Hypatia will love it [29 with bonuses]

Hypatia: we’ll do this Romeo and Juliet way!  You go first

Zombie: [shoves its head into the dagger]

“Doing Laundry”


“It’ll only be a minute. I’m just came to do my laundry again.”

“Oh, is that what the kids are calling it now?”

“W-what- N-no—? Please I legit need to do my laundry.”

“You wanna come and do some laundry in my room?”

genre: smut, fluff eheeheh

warnings: blowjobs, anal, 2010!phan i think

words: 2093

read on ao3!!!!

a/n: set while dan was in university, particularly after he had just experienced the bit in the laundry room in his “what not to do at university” video. this was also based off of this prompt and this beautiful artwork by icaseyouart. hope you enjoy!!!! <33333

Keep reading

Draco and Harry become coworkers after the war, they decide to stop fighting and even become somewhat friendly. They end up hooking up after a ministry event, but Harry makes it pretty clear that it was just a one night thing and it won’t work between them because of their past.
A usual response would be a sad, self-depricating Draco. But no. Instead, Draco cultivates an elaborate plan to redeem himself to rub it in to stupid Potter’s stupid face. He’ll show him who’s not good enough.
He contacts everyone he’s ever hurt and asks for a chance to earn their forgiveness. That includes all the Weasleys, his estranged aunt, baby Teddy, Hermione, Luna, Dean, Neville, Ollivander, Madam Rosmerta, random Hogwarts class mates, anyone he can think of.
He supports and helps Hermione with her house elf legislation proposal, goes to Dean’s art shows, joins Luna’s weird creature expeditions, works odd shifts on Three Broomsticks, plays unnecessarily competitive chess with Ron, finds and tends to a borderline illegal plant with Neville, looks at obscure muggle stuff with Arthur, baby sits Teddy and just generally has so much fun?
What starts out as a mission to spite Harry ends up becoming a huge journey to discover himself. He makes new friends, reconnects with his family, grows and changes as a person and learns so many new things! The only problem is that he’s just so busy that he sort of… forgets about Harry and the aforementioned face rubbing.
Harry doesn’t forget though, he’s watching all this happen from the outside thinking ‘idk what’s happening to Malfoy but i need to know MORE

‘two days tops’ (damon salvatore drabble)

vday is long gone, but me and my drabbles are not! haHA! sorry i’m lame. please keep in mind that delena isn’t/wasn’t thing in this scenario. kai is a friend to the gang. elena isn’t asleep. yada yada yada. pls let me know what you think!!

(remember that none of the gifs are mine!!!)

“All that mushy-gushy stuff makes me wanna vomit!” ft Damon Salvatore

You miss the days when your friends were all single. Or at least kind of single and all lived in the same place. Nowadays, you’d be lucky if you saw Matt every couple of months. Caroline and Stefan were trying hard to incorporate everyone into their holiday plans, but it was their first year as a married couple. Elena was with Bonnie, who’s all the way in New Orleans trying to connect with an old family friend. Jeremy and Tyler and Kai were vacationing on the West Coast and that just left you and Damon in Mystic Falls.

You tried to convince Damon to leave town with you for a few days, but he just rolled his eyes. You two had a very wierd friendship: you two were almost at the point where you’d jump each other’s bones. You were always scared to though because you could never be sure with him. He was still heartbroken and he flirted with anyone who had a vagina or Ric.

Alas, it was Valentine’s Day. Stefan and Caroline went on a small vacation to the Swiss Alps and the others were nowhere to be seen. That left you with nothing to do but go ahead and bug Damon… or seduce him, but you didn’t wanna get your hopes up.

“Daaaamooonnnnn,” you call him out, stretching out his name like you know he hates. “C’mon old man. It’s Valentine’s Day!”

Originally posted by the-vampire-diaries-gif

“What do you want?” Damon steps into the living room: bottle of bourbon in hand, signature black dress shirt left wide open, and his everyday black pants.

“Damon, it’s Valentine’s Day! Let’s go do something like–”

“No, I hate dates.”

“That’s not what I was–”

“And no mushy gushy stuff,” he lets out an exaggerated shiver and takes a swig of his bourbon.

“All that mushy-gushy stuff makes me wanna vomit. Do you not know me at all?” You cross your arms over your chest and Damon eyes immediately land on your chest.

“Well then what the hell did you want to do?” He narrows his eyes at you for a moment before a realization sets in. “Wait a minute… do you want to have sex with me?”

“Damon! Ew, no!” You scrunch up your face and he gives you his sex eyes.

“C’mon, you know you want this!” He smirks and walks over to you, playfully running his hands down his abdomen as you turn away from him. “You know you think about this all the time.”

“Damon, stop that right now!” You turn around to look at him, not realizing how close he is to your face. You falter, taking a step back and nearly tripping. Fortunately, or unfortunately, for you, Damon catches you and pulls you back up pressing your chest against his.

“Careful there. We don’t want you to get hurt before anything actually happens,” he smiles at you as you blow your bangs out of your face.

“And what makes you think that anything will actually happen, huh?” You glare at Damon and he gives you a gentle smile.

“I can smell your arousal from a mile away. Do you really wanna play that game?” You open your mouth to argue with him, but he cuts you off. “Come on, we’re both single. We’re alone. We’ve got a whole week to break all the beds in this place. What do you say?”

“A week? Come on, that’s pushing it,” you roll your eyes and tilt your head up, teasingly brushing your lips against his. “I’d say two days tops.”

Chicks dig that

Gif’s not mine!

Fandom: Marvel
Pairing: Wade Wilson x reader
Genres: angst, attempted rape, more angst, bad language, mild fluff
Words: 2.760
Summary: Reader is attacked in an alley; Wade shows up and saves her, but says a rude comment, which makes reader mad. He tries to apologize, but to no avail, until he comes without his suit. Reader invites his for a beer and they talk, in the end finding a friend in one another - requested by @directorpercivalgraves 

Keep reading

Miss You (James Madison x Reader)

Word Count: 1004

Summary/Request: “I loved your james x reader! Will you do another one but where he and the reader have been like best friends forever and he is drifting away? Thank you so much! If you can’t that’s cool still love you 💖”-Anon 

(I’m glad you liked it, thanks for the love, friend 💖)

AU: Modern

Warnings: Fighting/yelling, getting drunk, cussing.


A/N- I am in no way condoning getting extremely drunk or putting your feet on the dash of a car (it can actually be really dangerous, I have details). Be safe guys.

“Hey James?” You asked.

“Yes?” He said, not bothering to look up from his phone.

“Do you wanna hang out this weekend?” You questioned hesitantly.

“Umm… I’m little busy. Maybe some other time?” He answered.

“Sure.” You grumbled. “What has you so busy lately?”

“I guess it’s just work.” He shrugged.

“C’Mon James, do you even know how long we’ve been best friends? I can tell when you’re lying.” You said. He frowned at his screen, scratched his chin, then typed something into his phone. “FUCKING LOOK AT ME, MADISON!” You almost yelled, fed up with him ignoring your words.

Keep reading

5 Times Shiro Noticed Stuff About Keith and 1 Time Keith Noticed Stuff About Shiro

(AN: Warning for first time drinking and vomitting in the morning after. Hope you enjoy besides that!)

1) Studying Method

Shiro walks into the library, expecting to be the only one there and pleasantly surprised to find he isn’t. With more or less everything being digitalized, he hadn’t expected to see someone else choosing the pen and paper over the keyboard, yet there someone is.

A first year from the look of things, twirling a pen between his fingers and glancing at a text book. A real text book, not something digitalized.

Shiro smiles and takes a seat at another table, not wanting to disturb the guy.

He doesn’t pay any attention to Shiro at all as he sets his stuff down.

Shiro wonders what the guy’s thinking.

He also wonders why the guy chose the pen and paper in an era nearing it’s extinction.

He wonders if the guy’s struggling and that’s why he’s twirling his pen while looking at the text book; he doesn’t appear to have written anything in a while.

He wonders if he should offer his help-

The guy uncaps the pen and begins to write.

Shiro breathes a sigh of relief and opens his own text and note books.

2) Non-Garrison Interests

Shiro chuckles, “And this card game was basically your childhood?”

Keith grins, “More or less. I think I brought a good few of the cards with me. I don’t keep them on me at all times though, I’d rather not some jerk-face try to pick-pocket them off me for fun.”

“Smart move, but I don’t thin the Garrison accepts pick pockets.” Shiro assures.

Keith shrugs, “Better safe than sorry. You want me to show you them sometime?”

Shiro blinks.

He doesn’t know much about Keith, but he does know he’s a private person. He doesn’t talk to others often and he doesn’t share his personal belongings or anything like that ever. Shiro doesn’t even know his last name.

Yet he’s offering to show him some cards from his childhood? Objects he clearly holds near and dear to his heart?

Shiro smiles, but hides it behind a fork full of food, “I’d like that.”

Keith shrugs, “It’s a date then.”

Shiro chokes.

3) Hair

“Damnit, I can’t take it anymore.” Keith growls.

Shiro blinks, “What’s wrong?”

Keith grabs something around his wrist, “My hair’s bugging me. Hang on a sec.”

He ties whatever was on his wrist around his hair, keeping it in place.

Shiro feels his face heat up.

It’s a pretty tiny ponytail. The hair tie or whatever is more or less unnecessary yet Keith’s still putting it up. It reveals a bit of Keith’s pale neck, unmarked by the desert sun they call a learning environment and home. It’s making an incredibly cute small bun.

“You still there Golden Boy?” Keith smirks, waving a hand in front of Shiro’s head, a bit of the ponytail peaking out.

Shiro nods mindlessly, unable to take his eyes off that hair, “I’m good, uhh, were you asking me something?”

Keith rolls his eyes and the ponytail moves as well, “You’re hopeless as a tutor.”

Only for the cute ones.” A part of Shiro’s brain whispers.

Shiro asks that part to kindly shut up, “Sorry I got distracted. I believe we were on physic?”

4) Eyes

Shiro yawns and turns his head to the side, sleepy.

His eyes widen as he realizes his mistake.

Keith is there, on the floor with him, fast asleep. He’s resting his head on a text book and as Shiro sits up, he realizes he was doing the same thing.

He looks around to realize they’re in his room and last night rushes back; right, they’re agree to study together in each others’ rooms during exam week.

Nothing weird.

Keith whimpers.

Shiro freezes and slowly reaches a hand out to Keith’s hand.

Keith blearily opens his eyes, groaning as he rubs them, “What time is it?”

Shiro continues to tare into Keith’s half asleep eyes as he rubs the sand out of them. He’s never seen eyes such a pretty shade of purple. It’s beautiful. It’s mesmerizing. It’s-

“6:45?!” Keith jumps, “Shiro, I should’ve been in a clean uniform by now, don’t you have a meeting?!”

Shiro jumps, “Ahh, dang it!”

5) Taste

Shiro laughs, face flush with alcohol, “Hey, ya know something? I never really drank alcohol before!”

Keith raises an eyebrow, mostly sober even though he’s drunk more, “Oh?”

“Yeah, yeah, like, my family were really strick and I never wanted to give it a try, so it never happened. I think this is the first time I’ve ever gotten drunk.” Shiro gasps, “I’m no longer a drunk virgin!”

Keith barks out a laugh, “You can only say that once you’ve had drunken sex with a stranger. It’s not all it’s cracked up to be though, so don’t waste your time.”

Shiro stares at Keith.

Keith takes another drink, then sets it down, “What?”

Shiro flushes more, “Nothing really. I just wish I knew why you were so pretty? And cute. And kind. And absolutely loveable.”

Keith flushes, “Shiro, you’re drunk! You don’t know what you’re saying.”

Shiro whines, “But I do, Keith! I think you’re really hot and cute and I wanna tap that ass but I also wanna take you on corny dates in the summer with ice cream and sea salt in our eyes.”

Keith turns his head, “Lies.”

Shiro grins, “Nope.”

He rushes in and kisses Keith on the cheek. He sucks the cheek skin and runs his tongue over it, taking in the taste. Salty, tiny bit of alcohol but overly and perfectly Keith.

Shrio pulls back, “I’m just honest.”

Keith’s whole face turns red.

+1) Not Perfect

Shiro continues to vomit into the toilet.

Keith runs his hand over his back.

“I am never drinking again.” Shiro whimpers.

Keith sighs, “That’s what they all say.”

“Well I mean it.”

Shiro goes back to puking.

Despite the disgusting situation, Keith can’t help but smile. The guy he’s crushed on since the first sight is vomitting in his toilet after drunkenly confessing last night he liked him and then tried climbing on top of the table to start yelling it. When Keith convinced him it was a bad idea, Shiro convinced him to leave for some alone time.

They barely got inside in time for Shiro to reach the toilets.

Even though that appeared to be how “I like you” Shiro’s confession went, Keith wasn’t gonna complain.

After all, he liked his imperfect “Garrison Golden Boy” just the way he was.


Okay, could do without the vomitting, but everything else is perfectly okay with Keith.


Originally posted by defsoulfeels

Summary: This becomes the first of many kisses between the two of you & in honour of his birthday, have a good day sweetie!

Disclaimer: All the things that are mentioned in this are words of fiction aka it’s not real. I’ve literally just made this up and as always credits to @defsoulfeels for the gif

Member: Dowoon from DAY6 x fem reader

Rating: Fluff

Words: 1692

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Tires screeching, dust flying and car drifting, the four figures in the vehicle unconscious. as the car turns, hands slide across the steering wheel, and it jolts to one side, causing it to roll. hours later, the sun rises on the bloodstained car. what will our heroes do now?

Party Poison was the first to stir. His eyes flickered open, and the first thing that he was aware of was the halo of blood that was staining the dashboard around his head. Stifling a moan, he pulled himself upright and immediately cracked his head on the roof of the car, which had partially caved in from the impact of the crash. This time, there was no hiding the small shriek of pain that tore from his lips. Colour danced before his eyes, and he was about to slip back into unconsciousness when a familiar voice mumbled, “Party?” Forcing his eyes open, Poison saw the blurry figure of Fun Ghoul struggling to sit up in the driver’s seat next to him.

“You crashed the car, you goddamn fuckin’ dickhead!” Poison snarled. “I hope you’re fuckin’ happy!”

“Just help me sit up, alright?” Ghoul gasped. “I don’t wanna choke on my own vomit.” Poison sighed before reaching over and hooking his arms around his friend’s waist and shoulders and pulling him up. Ghoul immediately leaned over the gearstick and emptied his stomach, his shoulders heaving. After a few seconds, he glanced up at Poison and felt the faintest flicker of emotion cross his face.

“I’m sorry. Truly. I don’t know what happened,” he lied.

“Well, it had better not happen again,” Poison barked. “You could’a got all four of us killed!”

“I know,” Ghoul sighed. “I fuckin’ know. Can we just get outta here before this whole thing blows sky high?”

Keep reading

chensung!couple au

i have such an awful writer’s block im so sorry i havent written anything im sorry


-these two are so young they dont even know what love means

-they have the best friend type of relationship where you barely know theyre dating

-they dont do ANY type of skinship

-like, chenle always tries to hold jisung’s hand but jisung nOPES OUT OF THERE

-chenle probably tries kissing jisung’s cheek 50 times a day only to have jisung run away screeching

-cue chenle’s “oh my gawd!!11!!11!1!!”

-these two probably have secret dance practices together where they both just fool around for 95% of the time 

-theyre like closeted high school jocks


-”yeah bro”

-”i think i love you man…:”

-”lol that’s gay”

-”lol we’re gay”


-”lol ;)”

-jisung probably asks chenle to sing him to sleep

-he likes calling him at late nights to do so bc chen’s voice is always so soft and quiet and rough at late times

-and he can always tell when chen’s smiling sleepily and jisung’s heart just tightens and he feels like he’s about to die

-but in the best way possible

-theyre literal children who just joke around like kids but there’re those times where everything seems to slow down and all they can see is each other and they both live for those moments

-their dates consist of ice cream and video games aHH

-when jisung is really tired, he’ll rest his head on chenle’s shoulder and that’s like one of the only times he’ll let chen kiss his forehead/cheek


-they don’t feed each other bc awkward™️ but they just eat off of each other’s plates all the time 

-psttt chenle is jisung’s personal cheerleader 


-"pls leave chen”

-cheerleader!chenle x basketball player!jisung

-ok so chenle has a dog right

-and like, when he showed jisung his dog, jisung sCREECHED

-jisung probably likes his dog more than he likes chenle honestly

-one time jisung was running towards chenle and his dog with his arms open like he was gonna hug chenle

-but last second he falls down and hugs his dog instead

-jisung and chen are like the same height ut jisung will go on his toes so he can rest his elbow on chen’s head

-chen finds it cute so it’s ok smh

-excessive use of ‘bro’

-”chen is you say oh my god one more time im going to make u swallow that tree over there”

-”jisung you cant dance battle that pigeon”

-”it was looking at me funny!!”

-one time, chenle sang “you are my destiny” obnoxiously loudly every time jisung walked into the room which made jisung immediately nope out

-jisung likes watching chen perform but he likes seeing chenle practice even more

-he likes seeing the determination light up chenle’s eyes and he likes seeing how concentrated he is

-it’s why he fell in love with this dweeb in the first place

-everybody else found out jisung liked chenle before chenle did

-jisung always had heart eyes whenever he looked at chen and this lil bby was slick about it either

-he spent FOREVER confessing bc he kept thinking chen had a crush on ren or smth

-he ended up trying to get over him

-but he couldnt which made him really sad

-lovesick lil puppy </3

-jisung didnt even confess on purpose

-he like, half confessed

-so like before they were a thing

-chenle noticed how different and weird jisung was acting

-so in the middle of the night, chen snuck into jisung’s bed

-and he knew he was awake bc jisung immediately tensed up


-jisung wanted to d i e 

-”yeah chen?” 

-”what’s wrong?”

-”what do you mean?”

-”well, one, you wont face me and two, you havent been yourself lately”

-jisung didnt know how to respond without his feelings spilling out into a word vomit so he bites his tongue and shuts up

-”sungie, you can tell me what’s wrong-”

-”no, no youll hate me forever and you wont wanna be friends anymore”

-”how could that ever happen? jisung youre one of my best friends-”


-at this point tears are stinging jisung’s eyes and he’s trying to melt into the bed

-”jisung… i care about you so much, why cant you trust me…?”

-”i do trust you and i care about you too but in ways you wont understand”


-”im so fucking in love with you and it hurts so much”

-chen is literally so speechless, he cant talk and jisung takes it as he doesnt wanna be friends anymore

-so jisung chokes out a sorry and he gets out of his bed but chenle finally registers what’s happening and gRABS HIM BACK


-dweebs that do homework together

-whenever they go on dates taeyong and the rest of the chensung protection squad™️ stalks them bUT OUT OF GOOD INTENTIONS ♡ 

-tl;dr the smollest and cutest couple on the block protect them  

Where you go, I follow

Originally posted by tinysofia

part 1

Part 2

pairing: Thorin x reader

Warnings: angs, mild violence ( maybe )

Here it is, second part of Where you go, I follow. Special thanks to @xxbyimm who helped me when I hit a wall and didn´t know how proceed with this one. :) Any mistakes / errors that are occured grammatically….well, you have been warned, again. Enjoy! If you want to be tagged in this, let me know.

You sat down on a chair in the corner of the forgery and watched Thorin to start working on your sword. You kept wondering what happened earlier. You were sure that you saw the same craving in Thorin´s eyes what you were feeling but now….as you watch him hammering the hot, glowing piece of metal into a shape he wanted it to be, you felt somewhat disappointed. Of what? You didn´t have any reason to feel that way. You were here to get yourself a new sword and then you could continue with your journey to Rivendell. You were good friends with the elves and especially with Elrond and you couldn´t wait to hear some elven stories that never stopped to amaze you. So, why you were having a hard time to keep yourself from crying?

Thorin didn´t glance at your direction at all, not even once. He kept his focus entirely on your forming sword. He didn´t have the luxury to be fawning over a ranger he hardly knew. So he decided to distance himself from you now that he still could. It would be best for both of you. He examined the piece of metal he was working before dipping it into the fire and started hammering it again againts the anvil with a stone cold determination. Once this sword was done, he would bit you farewell and concentrate on making his people a good life in Ered Luin. But there was a snag in that plan. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn´t shake that odd feeling in his chest and it started to frustrate him even more to the point where that feeling was so thick, you could almost touch it.

The air in the forgery was stifling, you were sweating but couldn´t get yourself to move outside to get some fresh air. You were deep in your thoughts, playing that scene over and over again in your head. Did you offende him unknowingly? Did you say or do something wrong? You must have done something, why else Thorin would be suddenly so distant and cold towards you. Absent-mindedly you watched him from the corner of your eye how his muscles flexed everytime he lifted the hammer and hit with calculated precision to the metal. God, he was so sexy looking that you could feel your panties starting to moist. No! Not going there again! Sighing you finally decided to go out, it was going to take some time before Thorin was finished and you needed to cool your head. “I´m going out for a bit.” you announced standing up and glanced him. Thorin didn´t look up, just nodding to let you know he had heard you. Honestly, were all dwarves this quick to changing their moods? You huffed and walked outside feeling annoyed. You took a deep breath and looked around. It was almost midday and more people was now on the streets chatting cheerfully carrying their belongings. You brightened up a little and started walking searching some place to get something to eat.

Thorin threw his hammer against the wall angrily. What on Mahal´s name was wrong with him? Everytime he saw you moving from the corner of his eye his concentration was cracking, when he heard you sighing it went straight to his groins and the frustration grew even more tense in his body. And when you had got up, telling him that you were gonna go out with that exasperated tone of yours, he wanted to grap your face and kiss you with passion and let you know that he wasn´t going to allow you to talk to him with that tone. But the way you completely ignored him when you were sitting in that chair and the way you stormed out the forgery told him that the lust that was there few hours ago weren´t there anymore. So why would he care what you were doing? Sighing he sat down putting his elbows to his knees dropping his head into his hands. Women. Why they had to be so damn comblicated?

You sat on the table bowl of stew and bread in front of you. You were starving and dig right in to your food. The tavern called Stonehaven you had found was quite nice and cosy, merry sounding people sat around you. The keeper was little chuppy, grey haired old lady who reminded you of your grandmother. You couldn´t hold out a smile when she had tapped your hand and said that you were looking like a scrawny little squirrel and had handed you bowl full of food. Well, you hadn´t eat properly in weeks so no wonder she had said that to you. Two tables away sat couple of men who were whispering with each other. When you weren´t paying attention, they sat down on your table giving you quite a disturbing smirk. It wasn´t the first time when some men tried to seek your company. Mentally preparing yourself what was going to happen next, you took a deep breath and grapped on to your hunting knife that was hanging on your waist. “Hello there tootsie. Want some company to your bed tonight? I promise, me and my mate can make you feel so good.” that raspy voice made you want to vomit. Five minutes…for five minutes you wished to be left alone. Was it really too much to ask? “Sorry fellas, but I´m not that kinda girl. You might want to seek your bed partner somewhere else.”  Your answer didn´t please him and he took a firm hold of your wrist and stared you down…or tried anyway. But you couldn´t care less about his wanna-be-badass attitude. You had faced far more worst than couple of horny men in the past so you were unimpressed. Swiftly you took your hunting knife and with one sweeping motion your knife take a contact with cheek. Shocked he jumped up and backed away from you with a yelp covering his cheek with his hand. “ I don´t like repeating myself.” you snarled staring at the men with a deadly look on your face. “This isn´t over girl. I`ll come back and when I do, you`ll wish that you should have accepted my offer.” Rolling your eyes you put your knife back and return to your stew. Males. Honestly, why they have to be so damn irritating?

Thorin had been working on your sword quite a while now and feeling that he needed a break he set the unfinished sword aside and grapped a towel wiping his face. Frustration starting to build up in his body again, he decided that he needed release it somehow. He took his sword from a rack and walked out towards the forest.
He didn´t know how long he had been in the woods hitting his sword ruthlessly against the poor spruce but his anger didn´t seem to disappear no matter how much force he used or how wildly he swayed his sword. He was breathing heavily, his robust frame indicated that he was fuming, eyes fixed on the tree trunk. “By Mahal´s name, why??” he bellowed and hit the tree again with all his might. The shout echoed through the quiet forest, scaring a few chaffinchs to fly from their resting place elsewhere. He had never been this angry. The feelings towards you was almost feral, something he hadn´t never felt before and he didn´t know how to deal with it or how to handle the situation. Too many emotions was running through him at the moment….anger, frustration, confusion, uncertainty and he was sure he was suffocating because it was suddenly difficult to breath. Why? Why he was feeling this way? Tilting his head and taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes trying desperately to calm himself. But it wasn´t working and before he could think straight, he swayed his sword again with burning look in his blue eyes.

You had been practicing your archery in the woods after you´d finished your dinner, when you heard angry shouts coming from somewhere in the forest. At first you ignored it and lifted your bow and arrow taking aim to the pinetree where already you had loose three arrows and was about to do it again, when that outraged noise was echoed again. What on earth was going on? You frowned and walk to the tree pulling the arrows off of it´s trunk and put them back to the guiver, then turned on your heels and started to walk towards the noise cautiously, bow and arrow, that you didn´t get to shoot, on your hands ready to defend yourself if the situation was to get dangerous. When you got to a small clearing, on the opposite side you saw someone taking his anger towards a tree. You walked about half-way before stopping and tilted your head little amused. Not that the situation was funny at all but you couldn´t help a small giggle escaping from you. “What that poor tree ever did to you?” you asked trying your very best not to burst out laughing. But when the person turns around hearing you his sword raised up ready for a fight, your first instinct was to take aim at him to warn him not to attack or you would shoot.
You stared at each other with intense look on your face. Suddenly you recognize those eyes but it´s different kind of look than first time when you gazed upon those clear blue eyes. The gaze was hard and cold, full of anger. “Thorin?” your voice was thick from the emotions that crashed through you at that very moment when you saw those beautiful eyes of his. 

Thorin blinked and seemed to notice that it was you who was aiming an arrow towards his head. He lowered his sword slowly and raised his free hand signalling that he didn´t mean any harm. He also realized that the minute he was looking at you, his anger was starting to fade away. That was odd, considering that you were the very reason in the first place what made him angry. Sighing he layed his sword against the tree trunk and turned to look at you. “ I think we need to talk.” his voice was quiet and low.
You lowered your bow, putting the arrow to your guiver and walked over to stand in front of him. “ Yes…I agree.”

tag list: @fizzy-custard @xxbyimm

Grandpa Grimes

(Changed it a lil bit)

Carl + You (And grandpa Rick)

Warnings: Cursing

Set: It’s 8years after, The apocalypse is still running but you and the Grimes family found a safe zone surrounded by walls.  You and Carl had a baby together.

“Did you feed him yet?” Carl asked while coming behind me, feeling my hips.

“Yeah a few minutes ago” I replied grinning at Carl.

“Well, I think it’s time for his nap” He said kissing my neck. He lifts Carl Jr out of my hands and puts him in a cot. He smirked at me and walked towards me.

“Alone time, finally” Carl laughed pushing me against the wall. Carl began pulling my top up until we heard the door from downstairs open. Carl furrowed his brows and pulled my top back down.

“And the alone time ends” He said disappointed.

“Hey hey, Judith wants to see Carl Jr!” I hear Rick shout. Carl lifted the baby out of the cot and we ran downstairs.

“Can I hold him, can I hold him!?” Judith begged. 

“You gotta be careful though, you can hold him on the couch” Carl told her. She jumped onto the couch holding her arms out excitedly. Rick and Michonne sat beside her while Carl and I got some water and some biscuits we could find.

“Daddy, do you wanna hold him” Judith offered.

“Sure” Rick smiled picking the baby up from her arms. Carl Jr started to cry and cry.

“He doesn’t like me very much does he” Rick laughed holding him up to his face making silly noises. As soon as Carl and I sat down opposite them, Carl Jr threw up all over Rick.

“Fuck” Rick shouted covered in vomit.

“Language!” Michonne laughed taking the baby off Rick. Carl and Rick went upstairs to get Rick a shirt. Carl Jr finally stopped crying when Rick left.

“Carl Jr doesn’t like daddy” Judith giggled. When Carl and Rick finally came down Rick picked up a bag.

“Well, I got this for the baby but after that I don’t think I should give it to him” Rick joked pulling out a onsie.

“Dad, what does it say?” Carl laughed. Rick turned the onsie around to show the text on it.

“I love my grandpa” Rick grinned.

“That is one hell of a lie” Michonne teased.

anonymous asked:

May I please have headcannies for Katsuki, Todo, and Kiri slow dancing with their s/o! (I love the length of your headcanons btw, they are so well done too!)

Thank you, anon! I’m always worried that I make them too long, so I’m glad people don’t hate me for it lol you’re too sweet. and, man, imagining slow dancing with my fave boys… >///< here you go!

Katsuki Bakugou

+ he doesn’t really look or act like the kind of person to be able to slow dance, let alone want to do it, but he actually likes it when he’s with his s/o

+ usually in private, in the kitchen while waiting for dinner to finish cooking

+ he pulls them right up against himself and holds them tightly as they dance together, he loves the feeling of his s/o up against him, and their scent

+ he likes twirling them around because it makes them laugh, and holding their hands while he dances with them is nice.

+he really like swaying while they dance, gentle rocking motions are comforting, and he will rest his head on their shoulder occasionally just so he can smell them and feel their warmth

+ he will kiss them while they dance, he might even hum a tune if you’re lucky

+ if someone walks in he abruptly ceases the cuteness abort mission no one can know he’s got a soft side

+ if no one is there to interrupt them, it goes on for a while, only stopping when he realize he’s almost burnt the food they were cooking together before he’d gotten distracted.

Shouto Todoroki

+ learned to slow dance properly at a young age, his mom taught him before she was put in the hospital

+ it’s not something he does unless there’s a reason for it, i.e. a formal event where he and his s/o are attending. probably some sort of thing his father forced him to attend, and he brought his s/o as a plus one so he didn’t have to suffer alone

+ he keeps some space between their bodies, because they’re in public and people would think it was scandalous if their bodies were touching not really but he’s a very proper guy

+ has a very good sense of rhythm, will not step on his s/o’s toes, he’s good at this

+ he enjoys dancing with his s/o, it’s relaxing. he will chat with them as they dance, and if they don’t already know how to slow dance, he will teach them; he doesn’t mind his toes being stepped on, everyone’s gotta learn somehow

+ thanks them afterwards for allowing him to dance with them

Eijiro Kirishima

+ to be honest, he has only ever seen people slow dancing in movies, so he’s never really done it before

+ his s/o asked him to dance with them, and he gets super flustered because he has no idea how to… But he agrees to it anyway, he doesn’t wanna disappoint them

+ he tries to picture what he’s seen in movies; hand on their waist, the other hand holding theirs off to the side.

+ while he’s usually a relatively well-coordinated person, he’s got no idea what he’s doing and his nerves are compounding the issue. steps on his s/o’s toes and steps on them a lot.

+ his face is red, he’s basically just word vomiting apologies

+ I really thought I could do this, y/n, I’m sorry! It looks easy in the movies…

+ his s/o doesn’t mind, and they dance walk him through it. It’s cute to them that he’s got no idea what he’s doing, seeing his face almost as red as his hair ahhhhh

+ he gets the hang of it relatively quickly once he realizes what’s going on, but he still counts the steps in his head and reminds himself to do things, he’s gonna make sure that it ends perfectly even if it was off to a rocky start

+ he really likes it, and as he gets better at it, he gets more playful with the movements, they become more natural.

+ pulls his s/o close at the end and kisses them

anonymous asked:

Hi! Can you please write a fic where Makoto falls really ill (a stomach bug and a fever maybe) and his mom and dad take care of and comfort him. I love your work very much. Keep at being awesome❤️❤️❤️

Thank you kind anon^^
Hope you enjoy!


“Okaasan? Okaasan!”

“What is it Makoto dear?” His mother came into the room in the middle of the night. The light shining though the door made Makoto squint in his pitch black room. With the light shining in, she could see he was curled up in a ball with all the covers kicked off his bed.

“My stomach.” He squeezed his midsection tightly. “I feel really sick. And I’m so hot.”

His mother put her hand on his forehead and clicked her tongue. She went to get a thermometer and on the way, her maternal instinct told her to place the trash bin in his room beside Makoto’s bed.

She was gone for less than a minute but when she returned, she found Makoto leaning over the side of his bed being sick into the trash bin.

“Oh, you poor dear.” She sat beside him, lifting up the bin and holding it for him. The light from the hallway made Makoto’s cheeks glisten, as tears were streaming down his face.

He leaned over the bin panting as if he could only inhale and sobbing between stifled gags. He leaned forward with a particularly strong gag but it only produced coughing.

His mother rubbedcircles around his back and ran her fingers through his sweat soaked hair. “Shh. It’s okay Makoto. It’s all going to be okay.”

Makoto tried to calm down his breathing but ended up coughing again with only air escaping from his throat. He gagged forcefully and felt his stomach contents jump. One more gag forced everything out before he could even get a breath in and he heaved up a fountain of liquid. The bitter acidic sting made his eyes water and he coughed and spat out the foul taste.

After the first spell stopped, his mother had him lay back down. By then, Makoto had sweat through his clothes and he was shivering. His mother took off his shirt and wrapped a blanked around him.

“It’s st-st-still cold.” He shivered.

His mother used the thermometer to take his temperature and had an expression of worry when she looked at it.

“What is it?” Makoto asked, still bundled up in a straight jacket of blankets.

His mother left the room and a moment later he heard his father’s voice.

‘No!’ He thought. ‘Don’t wake Otousan.’ An air bubble escaped his throat followed by a large belch. Makoto covered his mouth with both hands as nausea rushed over him. He glanced around in the dark, desperately looking for the trash bin but he couldn’t see it. He shut his eyes and swallowed constantly but when a flood of liquid poured into his mouth there was nothing he could do.

Makoto tried to lean over the side of his bed but he wasn’t fast enough. A second later, a flood of vomit came up his throat, pushing the first mouthful out. Vomit poured through of his fingers and he removed his hands and leaned forward, heaving and coughing loudly.

His mother and father ran inside the room and turned on the light. They saw Makoto with vomit dropping down his front and all over his bed.

“I’m- so sorry.” Makoto broke down into tears, still holding out his hands which were dripping with sick.

His father ran and brought him a towel which his mother used to wipe off Makoto’s chest and chin. “Shh. It’s okay dear. It was an accident.”

Makoto wanted to believe that, but he still felt guilty.

His father somehow managed to lift him up and carry his sick son to the bathroom. He put him down on the closed toilet seat and Makoto hung his head low with exhaustion and embarrassment.

“Otousan- I’m-” he tried to apologize but his father turned on the shower so it was too loud to hear him. He took Makoto’s clothes off and helped him sit in the bathtub. He rinsed him down with the shower head, the cool water feeling good on his hot skin.

His father dried his hair with a towel and wrapped it around Makoto. Then he was walked back to bed and relieved to see that his mother had remade his bed for him with clean sheets and covers.

His father put new pjs on Makoto, who shivered when the tower was removed. He laid back in bed, happy to be clean and back in under the warm covers. His mother placed the trash bin right beside his bed within arms reach.

“Open.” His mother was suddenly holding a tablespoon of red liquid medicine in front of his mouth. Makoto was too sick to ask questions, so he downed the medicine and winced at the disgusting taste.

“That should help you feel better. Now we’ll be right next door if you need us.” His mother and father told Makoto before shutting the door.

Makoto was so exhausted he wanted nothing more than to sleep but no matter what he did, he couldn’t. He tossed and turned in his bed, pulling the covers on and off and leaning over the side of his bed over the trash bin waiting for something to happen but it didn’t. He was moaning in his sleep, tossing and turning restlessly. He felt so sick he didn’t think he could take it.

Finally, he leaned over the bed and burped out of stream of air bubbles that made his stomach muscles flex. He heaved up a stream of vomit, the first bout tasting like the sour medicine he drank and the second like what he had eaten for dinner. By the third he was no longer paying attention to the taste, only wishing for it to be over. For a moment, he got scared because he couldn’t seem to stop being sick.

“Okaasan-gUahh Otousan-uueEEh” he shouted between gasps and strong bouts of puking.

His parents ran in quickly and his father helped Makoto sit up and held him up as he was sick into the bin.

“It doesn’t feel like his fever went down at all.” His father could feel Makoto’s boiling hot skin as he held up the limp boy to keep him from falling out of bed.

Makoto realized he must have been given fever medicine, and that that he had just vomited it all up. “I’m-hic-sorry.” He started to cry again.

“Don’t apologize dear. It isn’t your fault.” His mother stroked his hair.

“Everyone gets sick.” His father told him.

Makoto sniffed. “I’ve caused you so much trouble.” He started sounding dazed.

“Don’t worry about that love. That’s our job as parents.” His mother tried to explain.

“I- I wanna try'nd- take it again.” Makoto’s words were slurring together.

“Are you sure?” His mother asked, and Makoto nodded.

He took another dose of the same foul tasting medicine with a sour face and his parents put him back to bed. He was so tired he managed to fall asleep for a short time. But he woke up less than an hour later in a cold sweat. He was overwhelmed with nausea and leaned over to be sick into the bin.

After being in bed so long, Makoto had to go to the bathroom, so he took the bin and wondered around in his dark room trying to find the light switch. He felt so weak and dizzy that he could hardly stand. He tripped on something in the dark and fell with a clatter.

His parents must have heard the noise, because they ran in a moment later. Makoto broke down into tears on the ground and his father helped lift him up to go to the bathroom.

After that, Makoto’s parents took turns sitting beside his bed looking after him. Eventually, Makoto managed to stay asleep.

Not the Norm - July 23rd

This was written as a collab between @emetoandotherthings and myself, @its-a-goddamn-heartbreak, using her OCs Aiden and Aleks, and my OCs Darragh and Orlaith. It features a character with CVS and a hospital scene, so I guess content warnings for vomit and hospitals!

Darragh woke reluctantly.

It started off as that vague awareness of self that pulls you out of sleep, the nagging sensation that the rest of the world is waiting, as though sleep were the sea and he was swimming upwards. Then little fragments of life started to slip into his consciousness - the stale dryness of his mouth, the numb tingle of his shoulder and his upper arm - and it was like he saw the surface and suddenly didn’t want to reach it anymore.

A husky moan slipped past his lips. He still wasn’t fully awake, but he was too close to it to have a hope of falling back asleep. At first, all he could really focus on was the dreadful churning in his tummy; it was as though his stomach was on spin cycle with no clothes in, just bubbly liquid going round and round and round, and it made his brain feel blurry.

Gradually, he began to register other things. His head hurt. His lips were dry. His mouth felt like he’d been swallowing sand. Most importantly, he wasn’t actually in his bed. At that realisation, his eyes fluttered open and he was awake. Then a number of things became clear to him in very quick succession. Firstly, he was slumped on the cold floor of the bathroom, half draped over the toilet. That was why his arm was numb and his back ached and his legs were cramping. Secondly, he was walking the line between dehydrated and seriously dehydrated like it was a tightrope…and he was not a very confident funambulist.

Thirdly, he was about to be violently ill. Again.


His stomach jerked, as if on cue, and he rolled his face off his arm as he heaved unproductively. He sat panting, his head hanging low, one arm braced across the toilet seat and the other wrapped tightly around his cavorting tummy. He rested his head against his forearm to try and stop the dizzying pounding. It was all starting to come back to him - the rude, early morning awakening as his dinner clawed its way out of his throat, the mad scramble for the bathroom only ten minutes later, and then ten minutes after that, and ten minutes after that until he was too weak to get back to bed, the wretched monotony of retching and spitting and forcing down fluids and the brief sleepy reprieve before it all came right back up. A swooping wave of nausea rippled through him with a shudder, and his legs writhed against the cold tiles as he gasped.


Another heave tore at his throat, catching him by surprise leaving him choking on air. Coughing and gagging he heaved again, his back arching expectantly, but nothing came up. He slumped back down, shoulders still shuddering every few seconds with wretched, painful retches that scratched their way up from his gurgling stomach and raked along his tender throat. This was awful. He scrabbled through the Lucozade bottles next to him, desperate to at least have something to throw up. A weight sank in his chest when they all came up empty, and a sob broke loose. He was exhausted and sore and lonely and this was the worst episode he’d had in months, maybe even years. He’d told Orlaith that he’d be fine and that she needn’t worry, but that had been at least twelve hours ago and he really needed someone now. Someone to soothe the overworked muscles in his chest and abdomen. Someone to make sure he didn’t pass out on the bathroom floor without even a mat to lie on. Someone to reassure him that this pain wouldn’t last forever. Before he knew it, he was crying uncontrollably.

“<i>Hmmmmmmk</i>,” he gagged through tight lips as sobs swelled in his chest. His eyes itched, but no tears came. There was next to no saliva in his mouth either despite the nauseous whirlwind deep in his gut, he realised with a jolt. Even if his mam wasn’t a nurse he’d have known that this was bad.

He fumbled in his pocket for his phone. Pride be damned, if he left it any longer to call for help he might pass out on the floor and not be found for hours. As he tried to lift his head, his vision spun as though he’d been on a whirligig and black dots danced before his eyes. Bad idea. The woozy feeling snaked its way down to the pit of his stomach, and his phone dropped to the floor with a clatter as he lurched forwards for a renewed onslaught of dry heaving. When he finally managed to pick it back up, he realised how violently his hands were shaking, the exhaustion of throwing up nearly a hundred times in one day catching up with him. He snuck a glance at the time before hitting the speed dial. 11:25. Orlaith would probably still be up, he thought in relief as the phone rang. He closed his eyes while he was waiting, hoping to stem the floaty, distant feeling that was spreading across him like a blanket.

“Darragh? Babe?!” Orlaith’s voice sounded frantic. “Please wake up love.”

Her voice cracked at the end of the sentence and he forced his eyes open with extraordinary effort. Orlaith loomed over him, her lower lip trembling, and when he opened his eyes she flung her arms around him with a sob. He returned the hug with trembling arms, trying to absorb her solid warmth.

“Don’ cry love.” His voice crackled, and his attempt to clear his throat nearly made him start heaving again. “ ‘s no’ that bad.”

She drew back, and slapped him in the arm. “It is absolutely that bad you feckin’ idiot, you passed out in the time it took for a call to connect,” she choked out. “Don’t you dare ever scare me like that again.”

“Hey,” he began indignantly. “You can’t hit me I’m -”

He cut himself off with a strangled heave, too exhausted to lean back over the toilet when he knew nothing would come of it. Orlaith pulled him back into her arms and he whimpered against her shoulder, his breathing ragged. The weight of her arm round his back and the steady rise and fall of her chest made him feel more centred than he had all day. After a moment, she lifted a fresh bottle of Lucozade to his lips and he drank greedily.

“Small sips!” She admonished, pulling the bottle away before he could drink too much at once, and stroking her fingers through his sweaty hair. “I’ve called a cab to take us to the hospital, do you still keep an overnight bag packed?”

Darragh nodded wearily, his head too heavy on his neck. He’d managed to avoid being hospitalised for the six months that they’d been at uni, but luckily his paranoia about hospital gowns and boredom had prevented him from doing away with the bag he kept packed for nights under observation.

“Hung on the door,” he croaked, “you can’t miss it.”

It was, in fact the same rucksack that he’d kept for that purpose since he was little, so there was no way she’d mistake it for anything else. She helped him drink some more Lucozade, feeding him like a baby bird, then propped him against the wall as she went to get it. When she returned there was someone else with her.

“Awww mate, if I’d known you were this sick I’d have done something sooner…”

Darragh looked up. Connor, who had the bedroom next to his, stood in the doorway a guilty look of shock plastered across his face.

“Babe, Connor’s going to help you down the stairs. You’re too tall for me these days,” Orlaith explained, crouching down to rub his arm reassuringly.

The journey to the hospital was a bit hazy for Darragh, and the bits he could remember he’d rather he didn’t. The first time they’d tried to stand him up he’d promptly vomited and passed out. The second attempt had been more successful, but he had a vague recollection of sitting on the landing and sobbing that he couldn’t go any further. The taxi ride had been hell, every bump and turn and red light sending nausea spiralling through his stomach until he moaned in pain. He was pretty sure they’d been charged double for the trip after Darragh had spewed Lucozade and bile all over the old towel in Orlaith’s lap, even though none of it had touched the upholstery.

“When ‘m I seein’ th’ doctor?” He slurred hoarsely.

Orlaith ran her fingers lightly through his curls, hushing him. “Soon, I’m sure babe. They’re just a bit busy tonight, but it’ll be soon.”

She glanced around. It was a Friday night, and half the people there were completely hammered, and had blood oozing from scrapes or limbs bent at funny angles. The clock above the nurse’s desk told her that they’d been there for two hours already, and in that time Darragh had gone through a bottle and a half of Lucozade and ten emesis basins. He was curled shivering around his aching stomach, spread awkwardly across two plastic chairs with his head in her lap. His forehead was still clammy, but he’d stopped sweating some time ago and it terrified her. The more rational part of her understood that compared to drunks who were bleeding out or little old ladies with pneumonia, Darragh just simply wasn’t a priority case, but mostly she was horrified that someone so clearly dehydrated who couldn’t stop vomiting for more than ten minutes at a time could be left to suffer for so long.

“<i>Uhhhhh</i>,“ he groaned miserably, nuzzling his face into her knee. His face, which was usually pale anyway, was practically grey, his lips a tight, tense white, the only colour the red spider’s web of burst capillaries under his eyes and across his nose.

“I know love, I know,” she whispered, rubbing his arm gently. She held the bottle to his lips again. “Drink something for me.”

He pursed his lips, shaking his head minutely. “Don’ wanna be sick again,” he said, composure crumbling at the end of the sentence. He could barely hear the loud chatter of the waiting room that surrounded him, he was so sick. He had reached a point where everything felt very far away and the only thing that was real was the lancing pain in his abdomen and the pitching roll of his belly.

Orlaith put the bottle away. The last thing he needed was for her to make him cry, and they’d put him on a drip soon anyway she was certain. She was trying desperately to think of something to say to reassure him, when she heard his name being called from the desk. She hauled him up as gently as she could and together they staggered down the corridor to see the doctor.

“My name is Dr Torrance, and I will be your doctor today.”

The doctor snapped on a fresh pair of latex gloves as Orlaith eased Darragh into a chair, where he curled forward with a groan.

“Can you tell me your symptoms?”

“He has CVS.” Orlaith explained matter-of-factly. “He’s having a bad flare up and he’s dehydrated. The doctors at home usually give him Promethazine when he gets like this.” She looked up at him expectantly.

Dr Torrance nodded thoughtfully. “Thank you young lady, but if I wanted a diagnosis I would have asked for one. What I asked for, however, were his symptoms, and I would like Darragh to tell me them himself.”

Darragh took an instant dislike to this man, with his plummy, rounded accent, and his smarmy, fake smile, and his holier-than-thou attitude. He’d met plenty of doctors like this before - doctors who were determined to prove how clever they were even if it made them look stupid. And he suspected that this was one of the many doctors who would want to re-diagnose him from scratch. He forced himself to sit up straighter. The longer he took to talk, the longer it would be until they put him in a bed with a nice drip and hopefully a sedative.

“Been vomiting all day,” he began scratchily. “Four or six bouts an hour, since six o'clock. Couldn’t keep anything down, not even water. Even once I’ve thrown up, I don’t stop feeling sick, and my stomach has been really hurting. I’m cold and dizzy and I can’t stop shaking and I…” He broke off, pressing his eyes closed as he swallowed down a retch. “I realised I stopped sweating at about eleven. That’s when I called my girlfriend to bring me here.”

The doctor scribbled some notes on a pad, and then looked back up. “You said four <i>or</i> six? They’re quite different numbers.”

Darragh breathed deeply through his nose. “Sorry. Between four and six.”

Darragh slumped over to lean against Orlaith. She was still clutching a kidney bowl in her lap, and the look on her face was halfway between bewildered and furious.

“Thank you Mr Macbride, I just need to do a quick physical exam and then this will be over.”

Obediently, Darragh manoeuvred himself onto the bed to allow the doctor to poke and prod at his glands and his stomach. He was proud of himself - he only twisted over to puke once in the whole exam, even though the urge to retch pushed at the base of his throat with every press of the doctor’s fingers.

“Well,” said the doctor once they were all sat down again. “I think you probably caught a stomach bug which developed into a bad case of gastroenteritis, which is why you’ve been so sick. As you are now severely dehydrated, I’d like to keep you under observation overnight so we can push fluids and maybe give you some Ondansetron to stop the vomiting. We’ll run some blood tests too, just to make sure it’s nothing more serious, but I’m sure it will clear up over the next twenty four hours.”

Darragh buried his head in the crook of Orlaith’s neck, dreading the night ahead. He should have expected this really. Orlaith didn’t remember all the times that his mum had been told to stop overreacting when he was a kid, up to the point that the doctors had started investigating for Munchausen by proxy. She didn’t remember all the times that he’d been sent home because it was ‘just a stomach bug’, all the raised eyebrows and conversations between nurses when they thought he was asleep, but he did. Of course it would be like this at a hospital that didn’t know him or his family, and the doctors had probably never seen a case like this.


Darragh started in surprise at the firmness in Orlaith’s tone.

“That’s not good enough.”

“I’m sorry young lady?”

Darragh could hear the anger and indignation simmering under Dr Torrance’s calm facade over the fact that he’d been challenged by a teenage girl.

“I said, it’s not good enough. He has a diagnosis of Cyclic Vomiting Syndrome, and he has a treatment plan that I gave in at the desk, and you’re choosing to ignore it. That’s not good enough. If you’d read it, you’d know that Ondansetron doesn’t work. If you give him that he won’t sleep, he’ll just be sick all night long and he won’t be miraculously better in the morning. Most of the drugs don’t really work. He needs Promethazine, or this could last for a week!”

Dr Torrance raised an eyebrow. “I have examined your boyfriend, and I have determined that this is gastroenteritis. I don’t make decisions based on the medical advice of little girls and doctors that I’ve never met. I’ve never heard of this ‘syndrome’ and for all I know you’ve invented it to get your hands on drugs.”

Orlaith gasped in outrage. “How dare you even…”

Darragh clasped her hand. “Not worth it babe. Go home, get some sleep, I’ll pull through.” He leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. He needed to vomit again, he could feel it, but that would fairly ruin his whole ‘I got this’ spiel, so he prayed his stomach would stay put until she left. She looked like she wanted to argue, so he kissed her again and nodded reassuringly even though his head felt like it was clamped in a vice.

“Visiting hours start at ten,” Dr Torrance chipped in vindictively as she left the room.


“<i>Krrrrcckkk! Hrrrrccchhkk!</i>” From one of the cubicles on the ward Aiden could hear rough, empty retching interspersed by weak sobs. Glancing down the list of admittees and their reasons for being in the Acute Observation Ward and when his eyes fell on a patient who had ‘Severe Gastroenteritis’ scrawled next to his name he was pretty sure he’d found the source of the retching.

As he pulled at the edge of the curtain he saw a young man, so pale he looked ghastly, lying on his side with a sick bowl wedged in between his pillow and the metal rail. He barely moved his head as Aiden entered, seemingly too weak to do so, but his eyes followed Aiden as he picked up his chart at the end of his bed.

“Darragh, is it?” Aiden asked and the young man responded with a disconsolate noise in his throat. “I’m just going to take your temperature, okay?”

“Alri-<i>hrrrrkk!</i> Ugh…” Darragh nodded, his hand wrapped around his stomach and his adam’s apple bobbing up and down in his throat as he tried to prevent himself from retching further.

“Has your nausea not died down at all?” Aiden paused and checked the admittance time, he’d been in for nearly three hours - surely the Ondansetron he’d been prescribed should have kicked in by now.

“No… not - gonna work…” Darragh forced out a croak, Aiden could see that his lips were cracked and beginning to bleed when he moved them. “Not… gastroenteritis… <i>Brrrruaaaaarrrkkk!</i>” His whole body jerked forward with the strength of the convulsion and Aiden snapped into action, he grabbed the wedged emesis bin before it spilled all over the bed and scooped Darragh up so he was more upright in the bed. He was so weak that he flopped limply into Aiden’s arm, still choking and retching although bringing nothing up.

“Alright, alright…” Aiden helped Darragh to lean forward, his face was screwed up as though in pain as with every breath his chest heaved further and the retches sounded drier and drier.

“<i> Auuurrgggh…</i> ‘M gonna - tear my oesophagus again…” He mumbled, trying to swallow back a further gag, closing his eyes because staring at the sick bowl was like tempting fate when there was nothing left inside him.

“Again?” Aiden rubbed his hand soothingly across the young man’s shoulder blades, feeling every jolt and lurch.

“When I was 11 an’ - 14 an’ 16…” Darragh rested his head back, his entire digestive tract felt like it’d been gouged out with a fork and breathing in now felt like fingernails dragging over raw skin. Hot tears spiked at the back of Darragh’s eyes as a wave of self-pity washed over him. “Please…” Darragh pleaded, his blue eyes staring up into Aiden’s face. “I <i>need</i> Promethazine…”

“Promethazine?” Aiden said blankly and Darragh nodded, tears leaking down his cheeks.

“It’s not… not gastroenteritis,” Darragh grabbed Aiden’s hand unexpectedly, and for someone who seemed so weak his grip was vice-like on Aiden. “I’ve - I’ve got - <i> hrrrrrkk!</i>” An unexpected heave had burst out of Darragh’s mouth and Aiden could feel the hand gripping onto him trembling fiercely. “Cyclical - vomiting syndrome… It won’t stop - without - Promethazine…”

“Cyclical vomiting syndrome?” Aiden frowned, trying to ease his wrist out of Darragh’s grip as he was beginning to lose sensation in his fingers; he knew he’d heard of that before but he couldn’t place where.

“Yeah…” Darragh nodded, his face looking hopeful that Aiden was listening to him. “There’s - treatment plan, in my bag…” His speech was beginning to slow down now, as though he was having to put an extra effort into making his mouth form the words.

“Do you mind if I take a look?” Aiden requested, watching as Darragh sagged back against his pillow; his face looked clammy and pale, except from the patches of red across his nose and around his eyes from the force of vomiting for so long.

“Please do,” Darragh mumbled; Aiden unzipped the toy story bag and pulled out a plastic wallet with a wad of paper inside it. He leant gently against the railing of the bed as he unfastened the stud and began to look through the contents; there were charts in which there was clear documentation of “episodes”, a medication list signed by a GP, and more generic information which Aiden thumbed through quickly. Pausing at the front page his eyes scanned over the first few lines of informatory text: <i>’ Cyclical Vomiting Syndrome (CVS) is a rare vomiting disorder most commonly seen in children, although it can affect adults too.’</i>

“CVS…” Aiden mouthed, wracking his brain for where that rung a bell and feeling frustrated when it seemed just out of reach.

“Most people haven’t heard of it,” Darragh said weakly, “like that idiot Torrance…”

“Aleks!” The answer had sprung into Aiden’s brain and Darragh jumped slightly at the suddenness of this exclamation; Aiden’s eyes were wide as a grin spread across his face, then he looked a little embarrassed at having frightened his patient. “Sorry… I just remembered, one of the trainee doctors here has CVS, perhaps I could try and get him to come see you?”

“Lord, anyone who might help, yes!” Darragh cried, then put his hand to his throat, screwing up his face in pain.

“I’ll see if he’s on shift,” Aiden nodded instantly, “I’ll be back shortly to let you know.” Aiden began to leave the cubicle, but Darragh’s voice came from behind him again.


“Yes?” Aiden paused at the edge of the cubicle and turned round.

“What’s your name?” Darragh inquired.

“Aiden,” he responded with a smile.

“Thanks Aiden…” Darragh said, and it sounded like he really meant it.

Aiden hoped that Aleks hadn’t moved on from the last rotation, because then he could be anywhere in the hospital and tracking down a trainee doctor was notoriously hard as most of the doctors and consultants hadn’t bothered to learn their names. Nurses were the lifeblood of the hospital, if anyone could help it would be them, but Aiden still felt a little nervous entering the orthopedic ward and approaching the Ward Charge nurse on shift.

“Hi, I was wondering if Dr. Wójcik is here?” Aiden asked, crossing his fingers as he leant on the desk.

“Wójcik… Long hair, right?” The nurse responded, flicking through a list stuck onto their whiteboard. “Yes, he’s just finished actually, he should be in the locker room.”

“Thanks, that’s great,” Aiden nodded in appreciation.

Aiden’s pass wouldn’t let him into the locker room, clearly his authorisation only extended to the areas in which he was supposed to be working, so he hung about outside the door, hoping that Aleks hadn’t already left - and wondering how long he could stay here before getting into trouble for not being on the ward. Finally he heard the beep of the door and Aleks emerged, changed out of his doctors scrubs with his bag on his back, clearly ready to go home.

“Aleks,” Aiden caught him unawares and he jumped slightly. “I know you’re off shift and about to go home, but I need a favour?”

“What kind of favour?” Aleks asked, looking slightly alarmed.

“Don’t worry,” Aiden reassured. “I’ve got a patient in Acute Medical who’s claiming to have Cyclical Vomiting Syndrome, but the doctor who admitted him has diagnosed it as severe gastroenteritis…”

“Ah… that old chestnut,” Aleks rolled his eyes. “You want me to come and see this guy?”

“If you don’t mind that would be great,” Aiden nodded, sighing in relief. “He’s really distressed, he’s been vomiting for over 15 hours now and he’s worried he’s going to tear his oesophagus.”

“I’ll come down, I can’t promise I can <i>do</i> anything, but I’ll give it a try,” Aleks agreed, matching Aiden’s footsteps as he returned to the ward.

Aiden’s heart started racing in his chest as he saw Dr. Whitelaw standing waiting at the desk and he looked confused as Aleks joined them at the desk.

“I didn’t think you were back on this ward Dr Wójcik,” he commented; Aleks had done an eight week placement in Acute Medical before moving on to Orthopedics.

“I’m not,” Aleks replied, “but Aiden came to find me because-”

“<i>H’kkkkrrrrccchh!</i>” A loud, harsh retch rang out across the ward.

“I’m assuming that’s the patient you were talking about,” Aleks indicated and Aiden nodded.

“Ah yes, Darragh Macbride,” Dr. Whitelaw said. “The Ondansetron doesn’t appear to be subduing his nausea.”

“It won’t if he’s got CVS,” Aleks stated firmly, “in fact, it’s likely to only make it worse. Do you mind if I speak to him?”

“Feel free,” he nodded; Aiden led Aleks to the right cubicle and drew back the curtain for him to enter. Darragh was looking worse than he had when Aiden had left, pale and drawn and clearly sapped of all energy.

“This is the trainee doctor I’d mentioned,” Aiden indicated; Darragh was breathing heavily, his chest rolling in such a way that it was clear he was fighting off renewed urges to retch, but he managed to nod slightly. “Do you mind if I show him your treatment plan?” Darragh gave a tiny shake of his head, Aiden picked up the plastic wallet that was on the end of the bed and handed it to Aleks, who rifled through it expertly.

“Has it been this bad before?” Aleks asked.

“Couple of times…” Darragh’s voice was so weak that it was almost difficult to hear.

“And you normally get prescribed Promethazine, yeah?”

“Yes…” Suddenly Darragh’s face changed, his eyes screwed up and his lip began to tremble as tears dribbled out and down his cheeks.

“Hey, hey, don’t worry,” Aiden grabbed a tissue from the box on the cabinet and very gently dabbed at the tears rolling down Darragh’s face, giving Darragh’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze simultaneously.

“It - <i> ulp</i> - hurts so much…” His hands moved to his ribs, holding them tightly to stop the pain, but his breathing was ragged as more tears poured out. “I need Promethazine… and Orlaith…”

“Orlaith is your…?” Aiden questioned slowly, still squeezing Darragh’s shoulder tightly.

“Girlfriend…” Darragh supplied, then his breath hitched in his chest and he barrelled forwards: “<i>G’kkrrrrch! Krrrrcccchh! Hrrrrkk!</i>”

“Take some deep breaths, follow me, in… out…” Aleks was round the other side of the bed from Aiden, his hand on Darragh’s upper arm and maintaining eye contact with him as he encouraged him to breathe. Darragh took a shuddering breath in with Aleks and Aiden could hear it catching in his throat as it wheezed out. Aiden thought he was trembling, but realised as he moved his hand to rub across Darragh’s shoulders that Darragh was quaking like a leaf caught in a hurricane.

“It’s okay,” Aiden muttered calmly, but he caught Aleks’ eye.

“This isn’t acceptable,” Aleks stated firmly as Darragh slowly began to calm his breathing back down to a normal rate. “I’m going to speak to Dr. Whitelaw, see if he can change your medication. He might not listen to me, but it’s worth a try.”

“Thank you…” Darragh’s eyes looked like they might be about to well up again, but Aleks patted him resolutely on his arm.

“It’s just what we with CVS have to do to make people listen, isn’t it?” Aleks said, then he left the cubicle; Aiden was just about to follow him when Darragh reached out and grabbed his wrist.

“Thank you, too…” He nodded. “You’ve gone out of your way…” Aiden shook his head with a smile.

“I’m a nurse, it’s what I do…” He shrugged, but felt that warm glow of satisfaction that was part of the reason that he’d decided to go into nursing instead of medicine. “Aleks is great, he should be able to talk Dr. Whitelaw round for you.”

“I really appreciate it…” Darragh repeated, he was rubbing his hand across his thin chest again and he began to sit slightly more upright. “‘T’s gonna happen ag - <i> hrrrrrruuuurrrk!!</i>”

“You’re alright,” Aiden resumed rubbing circles into Darragh’s back, waiting for Aleks and Dr Whitelaw to come and, hopefully, relieve some of Darragh’s suffering.

It wasn’t long before Aleks was popping his head round the curtain again, Dr Whitelaw in tow. Aiden shifted quickly out of the way as the doctor approached the side of the bed.

“Mr Macbride? Dr Wójcik tells me you’ve been misdiagnosed, and I have to say that since seeing the results of your blood work I agree with him.”

From the corner of the cubicle, Aleks smirked triumphantly, looking like the cat that got the cream and the fish heads too. Aiden caught his eye and gave him a grateful smile; he didn’t mind sitting up with people, but he’d have hated to watch the poor boy suffer all night. It wasn’t, he had to admit, just a case of how distressed the boy seemed to be - it was partly because he was close enough to McKenzie’s age for Aiden to feel oddly protective of him.

“I’m going to change the medication over, and then when you’re feeling a bit better we can have a chat about how to make sure this doesn’t happen again,” Dr Whitelaw explained, giving Darragh a fatherly pat on the shoulder.

Darragh’s eyes fluttered shut in relief. “Th..thank you doctor,” he breathed, and Aiden could see some of the tension draining from his shoulders. “Oh God, thank you so much.”

As the doctor fiddled with the medication in Darragh’s IV, Aiden moved to stand by Aleks.

“I appreciate your help on this,” he murmured, keeping his voice low enough that the doctor wouldn’t hear. “I’m not sure I could have made this happen.”

Aleks shrugged. “You’d have found a way. I’ve seen you working remember, you move mountains for the people under your care. But it was good of you to come and get me, it’s good for him to know that there are other people out there who understand what he’s going through. It can be pretty lonely sometimes…” He trailed off, watching pensively as Darragh curled into himself with a shudder.

“It was good of you to come when you’re not even on shift,” Aiden countered, moving to the bed and straightening out the sheets as soon as Dr Whitelaw left the cubicle. “Speaking of, you can go now if you want. I’ve got everything under control here.”

Aleks drummed a pattern out on the bed rail with his fingertips, taking a long moment before he replied.

“I think I’ll stay here for a bit. At least until the meds kick in. It’s miserable being sick in one of these places by yourself.”

Aiden nodded, still fussing a bit over the equipment and making sure there was a clean emesis bowl on the bedside table. He’d been a bit surprised by what Aleks had said about him, but he’d noticed pretty much the same things about the trainee doctor whenever they’d worked the ward together.

“You don’t have to do that. Really. I’ll be fine.” Darragh croaked, and Aiden jumped slightly. He’d been lying so still and quiet that Aiden had hoped he might have drifted off.

Rolling his eyes, Aleks drew a chair up to the side of the bed.

“Of course I don’t, but if you don’t mind I’d like to anyway,” he said gently, laying a reassuring hand on Darragh’s shoulder. “Would it be ok?”

Darragh nodded tiredly. “Thank you, both of you, so much,” he whispered.

Aleks shook his head, rubbing his hand over Darragh’s shoulder as Aiden made some final notes on his chart.

“No worries, it’s what we do. Besides,” he added with a conspiratorial smile, “this way I can have breakfast with my boyfriend when I get home, instead of just falling asleep like I normally do. So when you think about it, this is benefitting me personally really!”

Darragh chuckled weakly, but both Aiden and Aleks could hear the strain behind it. The meds wouldn’t kick in for a bit yet, and while he looked less distressed than earlier, he had to be feeling pretty lousy.

Aiden watched for a few more minutes as Aleks talked softly to the boy - telling him about some crazy stunt his flat mates pulled, asking him about his girlfriend, his hand never leaving his shoulder - before slipping out and back to his desk. Aleks had this under control. It was going to be alright.

anonymous asked:

A prompt if you want it: Fetch walking in on Delsin and Eugene making out. Cue embarrassed Eugene. (Delgene pls)

Disclaimer: I do not own inFAMOUS: Second Son

Pairing: Delgene (Delsin x Eugene)

Rating: T

Words: 727

Title: Like a Turtle

Prompt requested by Anon.: Fetch walking in on Delsin and Eugene making out. Cue embarrassed Eugene. (Bonus: slightly embarrassed Delsin)!

                                        Like a Turtle

     They had a great time at the movies.

     Delsin had managed to get Eugene out his domain for the day to catch an evening movie, and he was happy to see Eugene actually enjoy himself. He was too much like a turtle, holing himself away in his home. Eugene had actually wanted to see this movie, which had surprised Delsin. “Delsin, Delsin! We have to see this movie!!! I actually understand it, and it looks freaking amazing!” he had said in an excited rush. The gamer was stunted on most modern movies and such—what with being locked away for six years—so it was hard for him to get interested in most movies now-a-days. Luckily, however, the movie they had gone to see was something that anyone who had ever read comics could follow.

     Truthfully though, Delsin had paid more attention to Eugene’s lips than X-Men: Days of Future Past.

     On their way back from the movies, Delsin could not help but smile as he looked at Eugene and listen to him word-vomit his excitement. The blonde Conduit had a bright smile stretched across his face as he regaled how epic Pietro was and how cool it would be to run that fast. It was rare to see Eugene this animated, with his waving hands and upbeat step. It made a warm feeling go through his chest.

     The smoke-Conduit laughed. “But you can already fly almost that fast, maybe even faster! Why would you wanna run for?” 

     As they climbed down the hatch to Eugene’s domain, he answered, “I can’t fly that fast, Delsin. Think of all the stuff you could do if you went that fast! The movie did a pretty good job of showing how mischievous and troll-like Pietro was.” He flicked on the light, and started making his way to the couch.

    “Pietro, Pietro,” Delsin sing-sung as he snaked his arms around Eugene and turned him to face him. “Now, why do I get the feeling that you’re starting to like this Pietro more than me?”

     “Delsin, you dork,” Eugene said as hetilted his head up and pecked his boyfriend on the lips. Delsin was surprised when Eugene gently pushed him on the couch and leaned down to him. “You’re the only guy with powers for me.” Delsin shivered when he heard Eugene’s voice get deeper, and the vibrations of the blonde’s voice felt pleasant against the Akomish’s lips. When the hell did Teen-Angel get so…f-forceful…? His mind stuttered when he felt a tongue swipe against his lips.

     Eugene laughed against his lips. “You don’t blush much, Delsin. I like it.” For some odd reason, that made Delsin’s face heat up even more.

     Delsin groaned. He was not complaining, though. Seeing Eugene so confident was great…and it felt great, too.

     The room began to get more and more heated as Delsin pushed Eugene’s hood down and tangled his hands in the gamer’s blonde hair, and Eugene flicked off Delsin’s red beanie. Eugene’s lips felt great and Delsin sighed when Eugene kissed him on the jaw right there… 

     “Well, damn. I never would have guessed that Teen-Angel would be the one to top!” they heard a familiar Brooklyn-accented voice say. His glasses were knocked askew.

     “Oh my god!” Eugene shouted in shock as he launched himself off of Delsin, ending up toppling over himself onto the floor.

     “Holy—! How the hell did you get in here, Fetch?!” Delsin yelled as he tried to fix his appearance.

     The pink-haired girl laughed as she propped herself on the arm of the couch. “Ha, ha! Don’t you guys remember that you gave me an extra key?” She glanced over at Eugene who was doing a great impression of a turtle shrinking into his shell. “I came over to hang out, but it seems like you two are doing a great job of that without me,” she giggled.

     “Oh, god, oh god, ohgodohgod.” Eugene had pulled his hood over his head and pulled the drawstrings, closing his scarlet face off from them. He had tucked his hands into his sleeves and squirmed against Delsin, hiding himself from the world. Delsin felt and heard a muffled groan of horror rumble against his chest.

     Yeah, Eugene really was like a turtle sometimes. But it was adorable, no matter how mad Delsin was at Fetch for interrupting their personal time.

Dean X Reader

Request: You are an awesome writer! I’ve been checking out all of your stories for the past few days. I know you probably have a lot of requests, but I had an idea for a story. You have a few one shots where the reader is affected by a witch and blurts out everything she is thinking, but could you possibly do one where Dean is the one affected, and he says everything he is thinking, more specifically he admits his feelings for the reader?

Request: Hi! Don’t know if you’re a batman fan or anything but can you do a Dean imagine where you’re both alone watching the movie Under the Red Hood. Around the middle of the movie, Dean notices that you’re getting turned on by the character Red Hood (biting your lip, tensing your legs) and at first he jokes about you liking a cartoon but then gets progressively jealous after the character takes off his jacket. Fluff is fine. If you need any clarification just hit me up, okay? :)

Keep reading

On the ninth day of #PAIN fic...

12 Days || Masterlist

A/N: What’s that I hear? The sound of DAY NINE COMIN’ YOUR WAY HOLY SHIT. Just three more days until we get to hit you with the infamous part three and we couldn’t be more excited about it. Thank you all so incredibly much for joining us on this mess of a journey through this universe WE CAN’T EXPLAIN HOW GRATEFUL WE ARE.

So, ready or not, here’s DAY NINE.

Word Count: 2,083

Although you and Lin had many the similarity–your obsessions with words, an overwhelming desire to change the world, and an inherent adoration for the musical quality of city life– it was your differences, the things about you that balanced each other out and grounded each other in this plane of existence that had always kept you linked at an atomic level.

Where Lin was enthusiastic and extroverted, unable to keep his emotions inside of his chest no matter how inappropriate the situation was for singing out his praises of any and all things dear to him, you were quiet and insistent on the importance of internalized forethought. You relished in stillness where Lin was anything but still. He thrived on noise and cacophony while you shied away from crowded rooms.

Keep reading