gruesome injury


Episode of the Week - 10x01: The Conspiracy in the Corpse

This scene. It’s nothing short of devastating. But to me, it’s also beautiful. Sweets’ death was a complete and utter shock to all. And for Booth, it was nearly the straw the broke the camel’s back. The last three months had been a living hell for this man. He was attacked in his own home, and nearly succumbed to some gruesome injuries. He was wrongfully accused of murdering men who were ordered to kill him. He was sent to prison, where those involved with the FBI conspiracy hoped he would be killed. He was separated from his child for the second time in her short life. And through all of this, he couldn’t seek comfort in his wife’s embrace. Booth has always been proud to be an FBI agent. To him, working to make his country a better and safer place to live gives him a sense of purpose and fulfillment. In his mind, it also allows him to make up for the lives he took during his time as a sniper. As Brennan mentioned earlier in the episode, Booth has suffered a great deal of trauma in his life, starting at a very young age. The physical injuries are similar to the ones he has sustained during these past few months. But this is different. Booth is different. There is emotional scarring lurking beneath the surface. Because Booth truly trusted the FBI. He put his faith in this organization, time and time again. They are supposed to be the good guys. And they betrayed him. How could he ever trust his government again? Trust and faith are essential to Booth. And without trust and faith, he has nothing to grab hold of. It’s like Booth died. Sweets believed that Booth lost his anchor. But to me, looking at this small but immensely meaningful moment, his anchor is standing right beside him. Like always. Like she always will. Brennan is his anchor. Brennan is his lifeline. And really, so is this team- if nothing else, he could always trust this team. But he would still need time before he could understand this.

Something I love about Booth and Brennan (part 1 of infinity) is how they are able speak with no words. They can easily convey a message with just a glance or a simple touch. As the team is in the autopsy room preparing themselves for what they are about to do, Booth walks up right beside Brennan and grabs hold of her hand. It’s quick. Mere seconds. But in that moment, so much is said. I cannot speak to their precise feelings here. But to me, it’s a number of things. Booth has essentially just lost a brother.  He was family. He takes Brennan’s hand as a way to comfort himself. He has lost so much, but he hasn’t lost her. And he hasn’t lost their family. Booth can also reassure Brennan as well. He is home. He’s not alone in a cold jail cell anymore. He takes her hand because he finally can. And because he needs it. And she needs it too. Brennan provided him with love and comfort the previous evening. She made him feel safe. He was finally home. Now he can share a quick moment to communicate to her that he’s there. Together, they will prevail. Like always. As Brennan is about to walk away, she looks at Booth. He gives her a nod, assuring her that she can do this. She has to do this. She needs to be the one with the cool head here. Time is of the essence, and the team will require all the evidence possible to solve this conspiracy and bring Sweets’ killer to justice. In some instances, Brennan’s ability to compartmentalize is quite beneficial. She’s never going to completely block out those emotions anymore, as she used to. But she can lead the way here. There is time to mourn after they end this. Looking at Brennan’s face as she walks away, she knows exactly what she must do. And Booth gives a nod of support and encouragement. She can briefly lock her feelings in a box for the time being. She knows how to open it back up later on. Clearly the emotions are there. She has tears pooling in her eyes. But she can do this. They can do this. They have to- for Sweets. And they do. Booth stays there. But he has to look away. 

It would still take time and a wake-up call from Brennan for Booth to regain all that he had lost. And with the help of Brennan, the squints, and even Aubrey, he eventually finds his way back. He knows who he can and should trust. And he gets his faith back. Faith in something bigger than himself. Booth and his people. Really, that’s all he’s ever needed. 

The sun will come up, and tomorrow’s a new day.

Without A Trace Part 3

Originally posted by nevermindtheb0ll0cks

A/N: This is going up later than I wanted it to because of technical issues with my Wifi, but here is part three. The is much fluffier toward the end than the last two parts, and there is one possibly two more parts of this story to come. Hope you enjoy :)

Warnings: Discussion of slightly gruesome injury (nothing too descriptive, mention of rape) 

Rating: T

Word Count: 3k

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4

Sirens blazing, the team drove like bats out hell toward the two locations. Hotch was practically white-knuckling the steering wheel as he drove much faster than the posted speed limit.

“Hotch, are we doing a quiet entry or guns blazing?” Prentis asked.

“Soft entry,” he replied. “If we come in too strong, we don’t know what he’s gonna do. He could kill her off and run.” Coming up to the property, the three agents dove out of the car, SWAT team following close behind, and ran toward the entry. “His car is here. Prentis, get Rossi on the phone and turn them around,” Aaron muttered, as SWAT opened the door with a crowbar. Hotch and Morgan were the first inside, moving as quietly as they could through the house to clear it. “Morgan. Basement door,” Aaron whispered, nodding his head toward the door behind him. A muffled scream rang through the house, as Morgan tried to open the door only to discover it was locked. “We don’t have time for this,” Hotch grumbled and kicked the door in. They both rushed down the stairs, Prentis following close behind.


You heard something smash upstairs. You cried, silently praying for a miracle, and bit down on the rag in your mouth as he dug the scalpel into your skin, running it down your back for the seventh time. You were in so much pain, you were almost ready to give up. You felt so weak and tired. “Daniel Owens, FBI drop the knife,” Hotch growled. Owens seemed to pay absolutely no attention, as Hotch, Morgan, and Prentis came into the room.

“I don’t know why you’re so upset with me,” he muttered absentmindedly, still holding the scalpel right next to your throat. “I was just teaching your lovely agent here some manners and breaking her in.”

“You need to drop that weapon now, or you’re not walking out of here alive,” Prentis snarled.

“Is that a fact?”

“Look man, we do not want to shoot you,” Derek snapped.

“Now see, I don’t really think that’s true,” he sneered, moving the scalpel downward and thrust it forward. Aaron fired off two rounds, both striking Owens in the chest, but not before he’d managed to bury the scalpel in your side. You cried out in pain and Owens crumpled down on top of you. Hotch quickly holstered his weapon and immediately started undoing your restraints, starting with the gag.

“Get him off me,” you sobbed as Morgan hauled the dead man off of you and onto the cold ground.

“I need a medic down her now,” Prentis said as she knelt down to inspect the wound. “I need something to put pressure on this with,” she muttered fanatically looking around for a clean rag or towel.

“Here,” Morgan grunted, tearing off his bullet proof vest, yanking his t-shirt, and handing it to her. “Use that,” he told her and quickly went to work on freeing your feet. As soon as Hotch had managed to free your wrists, you threw your arms around Aaron and sobbed into his stomach.

“Sh, sh, (Y/N), it’s alright,” he said trying to comfort you and smoothed a hand over your hair. You shifted around and started trying to dislodge Prentis’ hands to pull the scalpel out of your side.

“No, no, mama, you gotta sit still and leave it there,” Derek told you as he finally freed your legs. Two paramedics rushed in and started checking you over. You squeezed Hotch tighter as the started touching your back and side.

“It’s ok, I’ve got you,” he whispered. One of the paramedics had Prentis move her hands so he could look at the stab wound.

“She’s bleeding out. C’mon we’ve got to get her to the hospital and into surgery ASAP,” he muttered as they set up the stretcher. “Ma’am I need you to keep pressure on that,” he told Prentis who immediately put her hands back on your side.

“What’s wrong?” Hotch demanded, facing paling slightly.

“The tip of the scalpel has nicked an internal organ which is causing her to bleed out and most likely there is some internal bleeding as well. I need you to help us get her on the stretcher and then keep her awake,” the paramedic explained. Hotch unwound your arms from his middle despite your cries of protest and gripped your shoulders. Morgan grabbed your legs and the paramedics slid under your stomach. The four of them lifted you swiftly onto the stretcher. You immediately grabbed onto Hotch’s hand again, still quietly sobbing. Morgan grabbed one end with the paramedic, and the other paramedic took over keeping the pressure on the wound from Emily. Hotch jogged beside the stretcher was they quickly made their way up the stairs.

“Hey, hey, (Y/N), look at me. C’mon keep your eyes open,” Aaron pleaded with you as your eyes started fluttering shut.

“I’m trying, but I’m so tired,” you cried quietly. The rest of the team was standing outside as they carried you out to the ambulance. You felt the world spinning around you as you faded in and out. They loaded you into the ambulance and you pried your eyes back open. “Please don’t leave me,” you pleaded with Hotch, through teary eyes. Aaron looked at the paramedics who nodded in approval.

“I won’t leave you if you won’t leave me,” he promised and climbed in the ambulance beside you, re-clasping your hand in his.

“We’ll meet you at the hospital,” Rossi shouted as they closed the doors and sped off toward the hospital. The paramedics worked quickly, disinfecting the wounds on your back and trying to slow the bleeding from your side. The stinging of the alcohol against your open wounds was actually helping keep you awake, and you squeezed Hotch’s hand tighter.

“Aaron,” you muttered.

“What do you need?” he asked automatically.

“Talk to me.”

“About what?”

“Anything,” you pleaded, squeezing his hand again as a large burst of pain rushed through you.

“Uh, well,” he mumbled, “Remember when the whole team had a picnic out in the park during one of the mandatory team building exercises that the Bureau makes us participate in? even though if we’re being honest there is no team more in tune to each others’ needs than ours.”

“Yeah, and you brought Jack,” you said, trying to smile despite the pain.

“Yup, and we all had sandwiches and cookies. Then we decided to play soccer. It was you, Morgan, Reid, and Penelope versus Rossi, Jack, Prentis, JJ, and me. Which was hardly fair because you had two of the least athletic member of the team.”

“But we also had Derek, which made up for it,” you replied, starting to feel drowsy again.

“True, and we were playing with a five-year-old.”

“A very talented five-year-old,” you mumbled eyes falling shut.

“Hey, eyes open c’mon visualize with me,” Hotch begged, “Remember, you and Morgan were pretty much carrying your whole team, but the two of you let Jack score a few times anyways? He had so much fun that day.”

“You looked like you were having fun too. It’s nice to see you smile. We all should do that again sometime,” you muttered before your head fell down against the pillow.

“No, no, no, c’mon wake back up,” Hotch pleaded, shaking your shoulder slightly as you pulled up to the ambulance dock. A team of medics rushed out and took you away behind the doors that said: “Medical Personnel Only” leaving Aaron standing in front of the doors face almost sheet white. The team arrived a few minutes later and found Hotch in the surgery waiting area.

“What’s going on?” Rossi asked, sitting down beside him.

“I don’t know. They said that the scalpel had nicked some internal organ and that there might be internal bleeding. She passed out in the ambulance and they took her back about seven minutes ago,” he muttered in reply and put his face back in his hands.

“I’m going to go see if I can find one of the nurses and get some information,” JJ said, wandering off because she couldn’t just sit there. Reid and Prentis wandered off in search of a vending machine knowing that it was going to be a long couple of hours. And indeed they were. Hotch alternated between pacing and sitting in the chair moping, while Morgan leaned against the wall and talked to Garcia, who wanted updates practically every second. Emily and JJ gave some half-hearted attempts at girl talk, but it felt so wrong without you being there to join in they ultimately fell into a tense silence holding hands. Reid and Rossi played chess, though neither seemed to have their hearts in it as they periodically looked over their shoulders to see if any doctors had come through the doors since the last time they had looked. About five hours later, a physician finally came through the doors into the waiting area.

“For, (Y/N) (Y/L/N)?” he asked. The whole team stood up and gathered round. “My name is Doctor David Smith, I’ll be monitoring and looking after her for the rest of (Y/N)’s stay here.”

“How is she?” Hotch inquired.

“Very lucky to be alive,” the doctor replied. “She had three fractured ribs, a dislocated shoulder, a series of burns varying in type, seven long slashed down her back, and of course the stab wound to the left side of her abdomen. The scalpel punctured her kidney which is what caused the internal bleeding that we thought was there but that turned out to be very minor. She’s banged up and lost a lot of blood, but she’s going to be alright.”

“Can we see her?” Reid asked.

“(Y/N)’s just been moved to a regular room from recovery. She should wake up soon. I’ll have one of the nurses show you the way to her room,” he said and walked over to the nurse’s station to pick up more charts. The team sighed in relief once it was confided you would physically recover. Hotch walked over to the doctor.

“One final question,” he muttered, trying to keep his voice low so the team wouldn’t hear. “The man who did this to her was known to sexually assault his victims as well and-”

“And you want to know if I found evidence of that,” the doctor finished for him. Aaron nodded. The doctor glanced over Hotch’s shoulder at the team who were staring at them intently, before nodding. Aaron grimaced and thanked the doctor for taking care of you before walking back over to the team. 

“What was that about?” Emily asked hesitantly.

“Just asked whether or not she was going to need to be released to someone’s care when she gets out of here,” Aaron replied trying to keep his face stoic and not give anything away.

“Miss (Y/L/N)’s room is down this way if you’ll follow me,” one of the nurses said and the team proceeded to follow her down the long hallway. Rossi hung back slightly to talk to Hotch who was lagging behind the group.

“So what did you actually ask?” he inquired quietly. Aaron pressed his lips together and flicked his eyes over to the team. “Aaron, they already know you weren’t telling them the truth. They just don’t know why.”

“When the doctor listed off the injuries (Y/N) sustained, you should’ve noticed that there was something from Owen’s ritual that was missing. I just confirmed its presence because the doctor neglected to include it,” Hotch muttered in reply. Rossi sighed and shook his head sadly.

“She’s been through a lot and needs her rest, so don’t rile her up too much. She should be waking up any minute,” the nurse explained showing them to your room. The team filed into the room quietly and took in your sleeping form. The bandages wrapped around your torso and chest were peaking out from under your hospital gown, a variety of different sized bandages covered the cuts and scrapes on your arms, and you had a nasty cut on your cheek. Aaron sat down in the chair beside your bed and took your hand in is, smoothing his thumb over the back. The team watched him closely but chose not to say anything, just wordlessly took their spots around the room. You started to open your eyes about five minutes later. You cracked your eyes open slightly and immediately shut them again. All you saw was bright white light and you were so sore. You cautiously opened your eyes and looked around. Relief rushed through you when you saw the team and realized you were in a hospital.

“Well, well, well sleeping beauty welcome back to the land of the awake,” Derek chuckled placing a hand on your shin. You rolled your eyes at him.

“How are you feeling? Do you need something?” Aaron asked leaning toward you slightly. You raise your hand to your throat and mouthed “water”. JJ quickly grabbed your glass off of of your table and placed the straw at your lips. You sucked down have of the glass before you took the glass from her and set it back down.

“Thank you,” you mumbled graciously.

“Glad to have you back (Y/N),” Emily said sitting on the edge of your hospital bed by your legs.

“Glad to be back,” you replied, smiling at her. “What happened?”

“How much do you remember?” Hotch asked.

“Um, I remember the three of you coming in and someone shooting him after he stabbed me in the side, but the rest is kinda hazy. I know that I ended up in an ambulance and you were there but that’s it” you said, looking over at him. “Oh, I also remember that Morgan whipped off his shirt so Prentis would have something to hold against my bloody side and then walked around the rest of the time half naked, so sorry for ruining your shirt,” you giggled.

“It’s ok mama, they have those in stores and they are easily replaced. Plus you know I look good so all the ladies got a treat,” he joked, waggling his eyebrows at you.

“Well, I’ll buy you a new shirt when we get home,” you laughed, wincing slightly as your laughing aggravated your side. “So, what did they have to do to fix me up?”

“You lost a lot of blood. The scalpel punctured you kidney so you had to have emergency surgery,” Reid told you.

“Well, that makes sense,” you said and swatted Morgan and Reid’s hands away from your Jello. “Did they say when I could fly so we could go home?”

“The doctor didn’t-”

“Knock knock,” Dr. Smith said as he walked into the room. “Well, Miss (Y/L/N) it’s nice to meet you and good that you’re awake.”

“Nice to meet you too, and it’s good to be conscious again. I find that’s when I do most of my best work,” you chirped. Everyone chuckled at your comment, grateful that your sense of humor hadn’t been affected. Hotch rolled his eyes at you, squeezed your hand.

“Well, I’m sure that’s true. You’re very lucky to be alive, (Y/N) I’m sure you know that.”

“Yeah. When can I go home? I just really want to get back to Quantico and forget this ever happened,” you sighed leaning back to rest your head against your pillow.

“Well, considering you did just have emergency surgery I’m going to have to keep you at least overnight. If you’re doing well enough in the morning, we can maybe talk about letting you go; however, due to the nature of your injuries, I’m going to have to release you into someone’s care for the next two and a half weeks until your stitches dissolve and wounds close up,” he explained.

“Great,” you muttered closing your eyes. You had absolutely no one to take care of you once you got home. You parents lived in Maine, and both of your siblings lived out of state one in Louisiana and the other in Oklahoma.

“Now, I know you all want to stay but visiting hours are coming to a close and we only allow one overnight visitor that isn’t blood-related, so I’m going to have to ask you all to wrap this up. (Y/N) needs her rest,” Dr. Smith said and walked out.

“Be free my friends,” you giggled, as JJ leaned forward to hug you.

“So glad you’re ok,” she whispered.

“Me too,” you replied smiling.

“Call if you need anything, Mia Bella. The hotel is only five minutes away and we’d drop anything for you,” Rossi told you and kissed your forehead. You laughed at his silly nickname for you, especially since it meant “my beautiful” and you felt everything but beautiful at this point in time. The rest of the team said their goodbyes and walked outside. Morgan made you promise to call Penelope in the morning. You pressed your head against your pillow and closed your eyes, but the door opening again drew your attention.

“Aaron? What are you doing? I thought the team left,” you said, slowly sitting up.

“I sent Rossi to go get my go bag, I was planning on staying the night here if you don’t mind,” he explained dropping down in the chair beside you again.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“And if I want to?”

“If you’re sure, then that’s fine with me. Not sure how much company I’ll be since I’m already feeling pretty drowsy,” you said, smiling shyly at him.

“That’s fine. You need your rest,” he replied, closing his hand around yours again. You glanced down at your hands and blushed slightly. “(Y/N), I want to apologize for what happened earlier.”

“Aaron, there’s no need for that. You were just doing your job and trying to keep me safe. Clearly, I should’ve listened to you,” you muttered squeezing his hand.

“No, I should’ve gone about it differently. Sometimes I let my feelings cloud my judgment when I’m making important decisions.”

“Feelings?” you asked, eyes flicking up to his. Hotch went rigid and was trying to figure out how to backtrack, furious with himself for letting that last part slip. You didn’t need to be talking about that right now.

“Nothing, don’t worry about it.”

“No, don’t do that,” you protested. “We get so close to talking about the fact that both of us have been dancing around each other since I joined the team and I need to spill my guts about really being into you or else I’m going to go insane and take the rest of the team with me because they all know, well everyone but you apparently. Now I’m rambling and I can’t stop myself so I’ll-” you were cut off mid rant when Aaron pressed his lips against yours. You practically melted, feeling the warm fuzzy all over, kissed him back. Hotch pulled back slowly, studying your face to gage your reaction. “Wow,” you sighed happily, leaning back against your pillow and closed your eyes. “If this a dream and I’ve fallen asleep on my desk back at Quantico, no one pinch me because I never want to wake up,” you mumbled. Hotch laughed at you and smoothed a hand over your hair.

“It’s not a dream I promise, just a good end to a horrible day,” he replied and kissed your forehead. “Get some sleep. We’ll talk about everything later.”  

“Promise?” you asked cracking one eye open.

“Promise,” he chuckled, pressing his lips against the back of your hand as you slowly drifted off to sleep. Hotch smiled and laid his head down on his arms which were resting on the hospital bed still holding your hand.  

Coming Home - Caleb Holloway (Part Four)

Author: @writing-obrien

Character(S): Caleb Holloway, Mike Williams, Jimmy Harrell, Andrea Fleytas

Word Count: 4245

Notes: Blood, Gore, Angst, Death, Fire, Injuries, Gruesome Descriptions. Seriously, I didn’t hold back on this okay, so if any of this affects you, do not read. We also have bone shattering, a lot of upsetting scenes, and some quite emotional ones. Thanks to @dumbass-stilinski for proofreading as usual!

This is very hard-going, please, be careful when reading this. There is no build up, it is extremely hard going from the first word to the last.

Keep reading

Title: The Weak Beat
Author: SpaceMatriarchy
Artist: Supernatastic101
Rating: Mature
Pairings: Dean/Cas
Warnings/Tags: Figure Skating AU, Hurt/Comfort, Depression, Friends to Lovers, Closeted Characters
Posting Date: 11/16/2017

Summary:  Former US figure skating champion Castiel Novak is sure his career is over after a gruesome injury at Nationals. His rink mate’s brother, Dean, begs to differ. He becomes dedicated to Cas’ seemingly lost cause, and though it won’t be easy to turn a broken down singles skater into an ice dancer, but together, they might just be able to pull off a comeback story like the sport has never seen.

- - -

He moved in front of the gate and held out an open hand, silently inviting Cas to join him on the ice.

“I don’t need help,” Cas said, suddenly defensive.

“I know you don’t need it,” Dean said. “But it’s here if you want it.”

Cas looked around the rink, took it all in, and, with a deep breath, he found his resolve. He leaned on the barrier to take off his skate guards, and, against the advice of that part of him still to proud to ask for help, took Dean’s hand as he took a first, nervous step through the gate.

His left blade wanted to slide along the ice, as it always had, and he held it in check as he brought his right foot over to join it, as he always had, and then Castiel was standing on the ice for what felt like the first time in a new life, and he wasn’t afraid. All of the anxiety, all of the anticipation, the running list of things that could go wrong and reasons to quit now, they all melted away. Standing there, with Dean holding his hand, he felt peace, instead.

“Solid?” Dean asked, smiling.

“Yes,” Cas replied.

“C’mon, let’s go for a lap,” Dean said, and started skating backwards, gently tugging Cas along by the hand like he was a child at his first lesson. “You’ve got the hardest part done already.”

Cas skated forwards, a few slow glides. It felt shaky, unsteady, but only for nerves, and still as familiar as it had ever been. He began by staring at his feet, as if he’d forgotten how to move them by feeling alone, but the tension in his body, and the fear of trusting his faded muscle memory, eased away as Dean guided him along the edges of the rink. He built up confidence with each stride, speeding up, until he and Dean were circling the rink together fast enough to hear the rush of their air past their ears, until Cas was outpacing Dean, and his hand slid out of Dean’s grasp as he took off like a shot along the boards.

Cas pushed himself, skating around the rink as fast as he could manage, chasing the feeling in his gut of speed and freedom that he’d been so afraid of never getting the chance to reclaim for his own. He turned himself around, stumbled a little, but didn’t fall, and took another two laps backwards.

Lap after lap after lap, feeling giddy, Cas flew again.

Sometimes when I take care of the birds, it feels like I'm taking care of myself

I fill their feeder. Boil water and sugar to make nectar for the new hummingbird feeder that arrived today (I accidentally broke the last). I rinse the bird bath and fill it with fresh, cool water for this summer day. I watch them flock into the yard, eat and play and drink from the bath.

I’m not doing great today. I kept waking up frightened. Of what? I don’t exactly know. It’s a different experience than when I wake up with anxiety. Fear and anxiety are in a similar family of emotions, but there is definitely a difference. Worry, stress, nervousness, anxiety, fear, all subtly different energetically.

My thoughts are macabre lately. I try not to say them out loud. Most involve gruesome injury of myself by an unknown attacker. Some sort of metaphor I haven’t quite worked out. It can’t just be my anxiety, that’s far too simple. Maybe this is why that patient disturbed me so much on Saturday. Not to say his threats weren’t disturbing enough on their own, but it was such a literal embodiment of my headspace of late. Did I make this happen? I ask to the source, what are you trying to teach me right now?

My thoughts become. That feels like a complete sentence right now. Maybe I want to get hurt. Maybe that’s the only way I can make sense of all of this. I hate the thought, so selfish. There are so many people who wish that they could escape the pain. I just want my pain to make sense.

It’s my fucking anniversary today. I continue to be blessed with the most incredible partner one could ever hope for. I don’t deserve this life. I am not worthy.

Backspin: The Kills Talk Tendon Injuries, Career-Suicidal Tendencies, and 15 Years of Kill-ing It

Anglo-American art-punks the Kills, aka Alison Mosshart and Jamie Hince, have spent all of 2017 celebrating their 15th anniversary — most recently with their new Echo Home – Non-Electric EP, featuring a cover of Rihanna’s “Desperado” and a re-recording of “Wait,” one of their first songs ever released. But for several of those years, the Kills were largely off the scene, putting out no full-length albums between 2011 and 2016.

Casual fans may have assumed the Kills’ hiatus was due to Mosshart’s high-profile side gig fronting Jack White’s psych-rock supergroup the Dead Weather, or because Hince was focused on his marriage to supermodel Kate Moss (which ended in 2015). But as Hince reveals during the Kills’ career-spanning Backspin interview with Yahoo Music, it was actually a 2013 freak accident that sidelined the group, as guitarist Hince was forced to totally relearn his instrument.

“I used to have this problem with my fingers locking up from just playing guitar, and then they’d inject cortisone into my knuckles — which is the most painful thing you can ever have done, I think,” Hince begins. “It would sort of make it go away. And then I slammed my finger in a car door, and my hand specialist guy said, ‘Oh, I’ll just jab some more cortisone in it.’ And I went away on holiday and I got a deep bone infection, and I lost my tendon.

“I thought I was wiping some pus away from my hand, but it wouldn’t go away,” Hince continues, while a grossed-out Mosshart (and, frankly, everyone in the Yahoo studio) squirms. “And then I was pulling it [out of my hand], and I was like, ‘That is really weird — look, I’ve got this stringy pus!’ And then my wife went, ‘That’s your tendon, you idiot!‘”

Yes, Hince was holding his actual finger tendon — not pus — out in the open, in front of a horrified Kate Moss.

“So I had to have a tendon transplant,” says Hince, who eventually underwent five operations and lost the use of his middle finger, “and it doesn’t really work. I can’t play guitar with it. So that was it — it was kind of like learning to find a way to play guitar again. I didn’t know if I was going to be able to play guitar. I thought I was going to be one of those studio dudes with gray skin and, like, loads of [takeout] menus, so I started putting my studio together.”

The Kills (Photo: Paul Rosales)

But the Kills finally returned in 2016 with the critically heralded Ash & Ice, and Hince now says that his gruesome injury helped sparked his creativity while making the album. “It was really good, because something like ‘Doing It to Death,’ I don’t think I’d have written that if I had all my fingers. Because I probably would have done something more with a chord, whereas I had to play individual things.”

Over the past decade and a half, the Kills have gone through their share of struggles, both personal and professional, but the bond that Hince and Mosshart formed when they first met in the U.K. helped them persevere. From the very beginning, the London-based Hince knew that the Florida-born Mosshart was committed to the band, before the band even had a name and before Hince was even sure himself.

“There’s a culture of saying you’re going to do things, and that’s almost enough, just saying you’re going to do this stuff. I’m not sure how convinced I was that our band was really going to happen, and [Mosshart] absolutely flogged me with it — you know, moving over [to London] and whipping me into shape to do this,” Hince says.

Mosshart recalls the fateful meeting that brought her and Hince together in 2001. “I was on tour with [Florida punk band] Discount, which was my first band. We were touring Europe and England a lot, and [Hince’s] roommate drove the van that we were in. His other roommate booked the tours that we went on. We would always go there and sleep on the floor. I heard Jamie playing guitar upstairs through the ceiling, and I didn’t know him, I hadn’t met him yet, but I thought it was the greatest sound I’d ever heard. I was obsessed.”

“I don’t think she spoke to me for the first week,” Hince laughs. “I would say things to her and she would just light up bright red and not say a word. I’m going, like, ‘Wow, this is really bizarre.’ Then she’d kind of say little words every now and again. Then she’d come round to my place and just sit cross-legged on the floor and roll me cigarettes, and I’d play her music she’d never heard, like Charley Patton, Lead Belly, Velvet Underground, and Captain Beefheart.”

The Kills (Photo: Mario Framingheddu)

“I mean, this whole thing kind of happened really organically, but I was on tour with this other band,” Mosshart explains. “He was really encouraging me to write music, and I’d never really written music; I’d just written lyrics to other people’s music. He was really encouraging and he was like, ‘Take this four-track with you on tour and see what you come up with.’ I would stay up all night with whatever stuff I could get my hands on, and I would record people drumming and then take that and put it in, and then record bits of European radio and talking … using the Dictaphone and just kind of making these … they’re more like art collages with sound, really. Just how my brain works. That was the first stuff that I brought back to him. I’d just show him what I made as a present: ‘Here you go.’”

“I know it sounds a bit stupid saying ‘sound collages,’ but it really was,” Hince marvels. “It was like somebody who just didn’t know how to write songs, almost like someone that hadn’t heard a song before. She was making these things, and they were amazing. They were really amazing.”

However, it wasn’t until Mosshart relocated to England, in a dramatic (and comedic) fashion, that Hince realized that this was going to be a real band.

“When Alison moved from Florida to London, she arrived on Gipsy Hill station with two refrigerator-sized suitcases,” Hince chuckles. “The doors of the train opened and she was just about to push one out and go back for the other one, but the doors closed. She was inside — and she pulled the emergency cable to stop the train!”

“I got yelled at so much,” Alison cackles, blushing beet-red.

“They opened the door. There’s all these people yelling at her. She’s pulling the other fridge-freeze out of the train. One rolls down onto the track. This is the beginning of my band.”

Mosshart and Hince decided to go by the mysterious stage names “VV” and “Hotel,” but they still hadn’t settled on an official band name or even a defined sound yet. However, that didn’t stop them from playing their first gig, at London’s now-defunct 12 Bar Club on Denmark Street, on Feb. 14, 2002. And the rest was history.

“I always think it’s funny that we didn’t know what we were going to sound like,” says Hince. “I thought we were going to be like an acoustic band. Or like [England] used to have this terrible cabaret act called Peters & Lee, a blind guy and his wife — I thought we might sound a bit like that, like middle-of-the-road kind of acoustic-y stuff, because we’d never played out loud before.”

“We’d never had anywhere that we could plug anything in and be loud, so we had no idea what it would sound like to sing through a mic in a room,” says Mosshart. “We were very pleased when we played. We kept looking at each other, like, ‘It’s so loud!’”

“It just all really worked. It kind of surprised us that there was loads of people were just really into it,” says Hince. “We had a little crowd of people afterwards asking us what we were doing next, and we said, ‘Well, we’re going to come up with a name,’ because we didn’t have a name. We just got gigs booked one after the other after that.”

The duo’s raw, lo-fi debut album, the blues-punky Keep on Your Mean Side, made them instant critics’ darlings with British music rags like NME when it came out in 2003 — but the Kills instantly bristled at the idea of being categorized with other trendy “the” bands of that “garage rock” era, like the Strokes, the Hives, and the White Stripes. So they stayed true to their “anarcho-punk” backgrounds and willfully committed “commercial suicide” when it came time to record their follow-up, 2005’s sinister, sparse, and severe No Wow.

“We were supposed to be a proper band and do the sort of thing that people do on their second record, like cross over and make much more palatable music — and we made much more unpalatable music,” shrugs Hince. “I couldn’t believe that we were lumped in with this new wave of garage rock. … I was so offended by this ‘garage rock’ thing. I really wanted to be anti-garage.” Hince recalls being delighted when he played the album for Laurence Bell, head of the Kills’ label, Domino Records, and he got the reaction he’d hoped for. “We were all sitting on my bed in Room 105 at the Chelsea Hotel, and I played it on a little boombox. He said, ‘It sounds like LL Cool J.’ I was like, ‘Yes! We’re not a f***ing garage rock band. See?’”

The Kills never wanted to pigeonhole themselves (“I don’t want to get into a rut of playing the same songs and same kind of style of music. … I always wanted to be a band that changed,” says Hince), so the experimentalists took another bold artistic detour with 2008’s immediate and at times almost poppy Midnight Boom, which featured the boisterous breakthrough single “Sour Cherry” and production from Alex Epton of Baltimore indie/hip-hop act Spank Rock. Then the duo’s dynamic changed even more during the making of their fourth album, 2011’s Blood Pressures, as Hince settled into domestic bliss with Moss while Mosshart hit the road with the Dead Weather.

“I started a relationship — I settled down, really,” Hince recalls. “My ex-wife’s social group is a real social environment. There was always tons of people around, and you were always encouraged to perform: ‘Play that song!’ I really hate that stuff, and this is the first time that I broke through it, and it was enjoyable. ‘My God, it’s enjoyable!’ It was actually quite encouraging getting feedback from people when you were writing a song. They’d go, ‘I love that,’ so you think in your head, ‘This is a song that’s gonna work.’ I’ve never had that before. Writing songs was always something you did in private, in secret.

“It was the first time I realized you could make a record being happy,” Hince continues. “I always thought you had to channel a bit of negativity to be creative, and really live hard. We used to talk about that a lot. That’s kind of what ‘keep on your mean side’ meant — it was about keeping in touch with some negativity and misery in order to be able to make something positive. This was the first time I spent most of the time just sitting around with friends, playing guitar and drinking wine, which I’d never done before. … I never had an acoustic guitar before, and it’s the first time I was playing by a fire. Just all these songs just happened. It wasn’t a torture for me, like it normally is.”

At the same time, Mosshart’s Dead Weather experience helped her build her confidence and hone her badass performance skills, and when the Kills finally reconvened, the result was an album with the formerly aloof singer’s growling, rock-goddess vocals front-and-center like never before. “I did learn a lot doing the Dead Weather, because I toured so heavily and did so much stuff I actually hadn’t done before,” Mosshart says. “I was all fired up, so by the time we came back to do this, [Hince] was in a happy place, I was just going a thousand miles an hour, and we made this record.”

Which brings us to the present, as Hince (healed hand and all) and Mosshart look forward to another 15 years of Kill-ing it. “The next 15 years, I don’t know,” Mosshart muses. “I mean, I hope it keeps being as exciting as it is, or more exciting, and we keep feeling creatively inspired. It’s all about that — the reason we’re still doing it is because it still feels so great to do, and it’s still so inspiring, and we still have so much more that we feel like we have to do. So we’ll carry on until something changes.”

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Gruesome Playground Injuries monologue


28: Tuesday

15 years later. The kids are 28.

Hospital. Doug is in a coma. He wears an eyepatch over his left eye.

Kayleen enters. She hasn’t seen him like this.

KAYLEEN (To herself): Goddamn it.

She goes to Doug. Only beeping and other artificial sounds. She looks at him for a long time.

KAYLEEN: Hey again.

Kayleen covers her face with her hands and then she exits. She re-enters quickly.

KAYLEEN: So I’m trying to get more healthy. Mostly. Most of the time. I thought, you should know. So, you know, don’t worry about me or anything. (A long moment) Come on, Doug. Wake up now. Just wake up. I’m here. I’m here to wake you up, okay? It’s been a long time, I know, and I just want to…

Kayleen shakes her head, realizing she’s basically talking to herself.

KAYLEEN: Jesus. What the fuck am I doing here?

She goes into her bag and gets some pills. She takes them. She sits down in a chair that’s not close to the bed.

KAYLEEN: I’m so sick of your shit.

Kayleen massages her temples. She gets up and walks to him quickly.


She goes back to her seat and collapses in it.

KAYLEEN: ON THEIR FUCKING ROOF! (Beat) I hate to tell you this, you stupid fucking genius, but getting up on the roof in the middle of a fucking electrical storm isn’t a brilliant fucking move!

Kayleen calms herself. She takes out a bottle of lotion and takes some in her hands.

KAYLEEN: I’m trying not to swear so much. And I’m moisturizing. So that’s what’s going on with me these days.

She rubs lotion into her hands.

KAYLEEN: So congratulations on almost being married. I mean, I heard about it. I heard about her. Elaine. Elaine. She sounds lovely. Poor girl.

You probably made the right decision, though. I don’t think you’re gonna be ready to settle down till you stop climbing up on the roof, you know? I mean, I’m no model citizen, but I do know basic fucking things about personal safety, you dumb piece of shit.

Kayleen puts her lotion back in her bag. She gets up and walks over to Doug again.

KAYLEEN: I mean, you’re not the first groom to get cold feet.

Kayleen shakes her head and wanders around the room.

KAYLEEN: I feel like an idiot here. I was pretty sure I’d get here, say two words to you and you’d snap out of this shit. Because it’s ME! It’s KAYLEEN, DOUGIE! I’m BACK! Last time I saw you you’d just blown out your stupid eye. It was this same hospital.

She goes back to her chair.

KAYLEEN: Twice in 10 years. Not stellar for a couple of kids supposed to be best friends. Twice! Well, I guess this is three times. Does this count? Does it count if one of us might be brain dead? Of course you’ve always been brain dead, haven’t you Dougie? Ha ha ha.

Kayleen rubs her face.

KAYLEEN: What else what else what else what else…?

Kayleen gets up and looks at Doug. She slowly walks to him and touches his hand. She takes his hand in hers. This is the first time in this scene she’s really let herself look at him.

She gingerly holds out her hands over him, as if she had the power to raise the dead but knows she looks ridiculous. She touches his chest and then lifts her hands up as if she might have just woken him. Nothing.

KAYLEEN: I am retarded.

She walks in a circle, and then comes back to him. She stares at him for a long moment.

She holds his hand, rubs it. She goes to her bag, gets out the lotion, comes back to him.

KAYLEEN: Your hand is all dry.

She moisturizes his hand.

KAYLEEN: You can’t marry that girl, Doug. You can’t. Because what about me? What about me, huh? When my dad died, when you… when you came to the funeral home that night… That stuff you said to me… You’ re always doing that, you know? The top 10 best things anyone’s ever done for me have all been done by you. That’s pretty good, right? And I know. I know I know I know… I’m so stupid. I’m always. ..I’m just fucked up, you know that. And so I need you to stick it out, Dougie. I’m gonna need you to come looking for me again. I’m sorry. But you have to wake up now. You have to wake up for me. Because I’m not great, you know? I’m not great. And I really need you right now. I really need you to come over and show me some stupid shit again, tell me some stupid joke like you always do. I’m sorry I’ve been gone. I’m back now. You know? I’m back now. So wake up. Wake up now, buddy. Just, you know…rise and shine. It’s Tuesday. That was always your favorite day.

Lights shift. Kayleen and Doug prepare for Scene 5.

anonymous asked:

Akatsuki react to their s/o as a doctor ∩(︶▽︶)∩

Modern AU-ish


  • He absolutely loves it!
  • “They’ve got the smarts, I’ve got the arts, hn!”
  • He needs you to heal all those second degree burns he gets from his sudden bursts of ‘artistic inspiration’.
  • There are times you tell him to ACTUALLY GO TO THE HOSPITAL but he always says, “Why pay hospital bills when I’ve got you!” then proceeds to writhe in agony.
  • He rubs it in the other member’s face that he has his own personal doctor and refuses to share your excellence with any of them.
  • Actually didn’t talk to you for a week when he caught you sewing Hidan’s hand back on.


  • Immediately is intrigued. 
  • He always asks you for stories as soon as you get home from work and for random medical terms.
  • He makes you help with with his puppets, making sure he’s getting the anatomy just right.
  • He also uses you as a reference for making poisons (what certain things would do to the nnervous system, what causes quick paralysis, etc.)
  • (You make sure you have all the antecdotes though).


  • Now I don’t do anything NSFW on this blog but…. Doctor/Patient roleplay
  • Except you have to keep telling him that he can’t actually be bleeding out on the bed in order to do the deed.
  • He’s actually very impressed since he knows a bit of medical stuff himself.
  • He randomly quizzes you on the human body and terminal diseases because,”I gotta make sure my baby is staying sharp.”
  • “No, Hidan, you can’t use the scalpels for your rituals.”


  • Meh.
  • He’s pretty stoic about it, more intrigued by your paycheck.
  • “Maybe I should be a doctor. I’ve stitched up Hidan more times than I can count.”
  • He also gets you to steal hearts for him and if you refuse, he’ll steal your pass and take them himself.
  • It’s always a pleasant surprise to show up to work, get locked out, go home to fetch your key, and find three hearts defrosting on your bed.


  • He’s so proud of you.
  • He loves to watch you work, especially if you’re woorking on a rowdy patient and you manage to keep your composure while getting the job done.
  • We all know this boy has some serious health issues and YOU know that, but god forbid Itachi will ever admit it. He doesn’t want to steal you from important patients.
  • You sneak antibiotics in his tea anyway.
  • He knows this, but needs it too much to actually fuss about it.


  • Kind of disappointed you aren’t a vet :/
  • Still asks you to work on his sharks anyway.
  • “Relax, you can pretend it’s a human. Same organs. More or less.”
  • Honestly, he loves to show you off like Dei.
  • “Babe, tell them about the time my shark had the flu.” “I sent him to an actual vet.” “Genius.”


  • Doesn’t really care, not going to lie.
  • Although he observes you fixing up his other bodies because he likes to learn.
  • You can tell he’s interested in all the minor details, so you casually feed him information.


  • AU where you and Nagato fall in love because he was your patient.
  • Sick boy needs doctor s/o.
  • You prescribe him his medicine and makes sure he takes it even though he FIGHTS. NAGATO YOU ARE DYING.


  • I feel like she’ll show you off as well.
  • Geniuely loves listening to your mini lessons on sicknesses.
  • Actually listens to your medical advice.
  • She’ll look up these totally gruesome, ugly pictures of injuries, sicknesses, stds, etc., and show them to you just to ask if you seen anything like them.
  • *picture of a severed foot* “Have you ever seen this?!” “Yeah. Hidan. All of the time.”
  • You’re her WebMB.


  • Confused as all hell.
  • Asks you about whatever and zones out five seconds into the explanation.
  • Asks for the coolest stories.
  • He feigns sickness and injuries just to get special attention. He’ll manage to get three physicals in one week.
  • Once you pretended to find something wrong and demanded a blood test. You whipped out the needle and you didn’t see him for days.
Random Natasha Headcanons

(Note: Most of these don’t have any rationalization. They’re just fun to think about.)

  • Even though a lot of people think she’s delicate and frail, she’s actually one of the toughest in terms of mental fortitude. Back in the temple, she’s the one you called if there was a really gruesome injury to be tended to. (Or, in some cases among the more skittish clerics, if there was a particularly large insect causing panic in the room. Depending on the insect and how much of a disturbance it was causing, she’d either capture it and set it free… or just quash it.)
    • Let’s be real, it takes some serious mettle to sneak away from the imperial capital, where security is likely the highest, make their way from the capital into now-lawless territory where they know there’s a very good chance for them to die, just for a chance to maybe find someone who can answer your plea. This after their mentor just got straight-up murdered by their prince/emperor.
  • The only reason why she seems delicate is because of her tendency to overtax herself trying to heal people. Channeling one’s magic to heal is not an easy task, and is arguably more difficult than casting offensive magic, so overdoing it casts a large physical and mental burden on the caster. (The way that she talks also gives off that impression.)
  • Even the temple doesn’t actually require vows of chastity, female clerics usually did not interact much with male priests unless it was a senior priest. Most of the men Natasha interacted with for most of her life were patients, and she didn’t have the chance to get to know them. As a result, after she joined Eirika’s group, the men in the army she interacted with were also the first men she really got to know as people.
    • (Also, while she doesn’t like admitting it, but because she’s a healer in the clerical order, she’s… ah… seen it all. Sometimes she forgets the nude body is not exactly a normal sight and doesn’t get flustered upon seeing people in partial state of undress. That said, she’s pretty good at knowing her different body parts since it was important for learning how to heal people most effectively.)
  • In the temple, Natasha received some instruction on therapy (or what they knew about therapy) and “relief for mental toil and exhaustion.” In Eirika’s army, especially for the younger members who’d never fought real people before, she served as a sort of counselor for them. (She, in turn, turns to Cormag after he joins, as fellow Grado traitors fighting their own countrymen.)
  • Natasha and L’Arachel get along really well. Scarily well. At times, they’d stay up all night discussing religious texts, reminding everyone that yes, in spite of her appearance and mannerisms, L’Arachel is a holy woman.
    • Tethys and Natasha also got along surprisingly well. Tethys was wary at first, thinking that Natasha would take issue with her manner of dress, but Natasha didn’t judge her at all and was in fact quite receptive of Tethys’ dances. (Also, since she has naturally-wavy hair, Natasha gave Tethys some advice on how to keep her hair from frizzing up, since Tethys’ braid makes her hair wavy when she takes it out.)
  • After the war, Natasha is really the one that keeps contact with almost everyone in the army. She even manages to track down the elusive Knoll and Gerik.

On the subject of cockatoos my mum had one when she was a kid. 

(There’s probably no form of weird animal story my mum doesn’t have. She grew up on a station a few hours outside of Winton. So it was the family, a bunch of stockmen, and lots and lots of animals. She has gruesome stories too – this was pre-Flying Doctor days, when medical care meant radioing for help, and then taking instruction over the radio for anything from sickness to quite gruesome injuries.) 

Anyway, the cockatoo. It literally blew in from somewhere on a storm, and used to live in an enclosure on the verandah. 

And it was fantastic at mimicry. It used to not only whistle for the dog, but also call it by name. And every time the dog came running, the bird would be sitting there innocently on its perch. So the confused dog would wander off again – only for the bird to whistle and call for it again. And it would apparently torture this poor dog for hours, finally shrieking with laughter when it decided the joke had gone on long enough. 

Cockatoos are assholes. Glorious assholes. 

bodhi week day 7

this focuses more on bodhi’s sister than it does on bodhi bodhi is like barely in there but like………..o well! too late! it was gonna be much longer but i don’t ahve time to write that anymore. so bodhi’s sister joins the rebellion and finds out he’s alive things r good. there’s bodhicassian

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Erik Marsters

Originally posted by prettynerdieworks

Face claim: Jason Statham

NAME: Erik Marsters

AGE: 37

SPECIES: Human (Deceased/Forsaken)


CLASS: Warrior


BIRTH: May 1st

SIGN: Taurus


PROFESSION: Mercenary/Soldier. Former city guard.

RESIDENCES: Erik has a small, single-room apartment in the Undercity.



APPEARANCE: He’s usually found in simple ensembles of brown and black, kept rustic and simple to match. Usually linen or wool, sometimes drab and worn. Leather leggings and studded belts. Fingerless gloves and leather jackboots.

Though, he often wears his armor; an affair of black and blue adamantine plate, draped in the Undercity’s colors, paired with a greatsword of hardened mithril.

HAIR: His hair is brown and buzz-cut close to his scalp.

EYES: Brown, though, they now glow a cat’s-eye yellow.

SKIN: Pallid and tinged slightly green.

HEIGHT: 5′10′’

WEIGHT: 172 lbs.

OTHER: He is covered in scars, including a number of premortem scars on his chest, arms, and face and quite a few gruesome postmortem injuries that certainly would have killed him were he not dead already.

He has a single nipple piercing through his right nipple.

He has quite a number of tattoos.



SIBLINGS: Brienna Marsters (Younger Sister/Deceased)

PARENTS: Brant Marsters (Father/Deceased), Nigella Marsters (Mother/Deceased)

OTHER RELATIVES: Tomas Marsters (Cousin/Deceased/Forsaken)


Weezil “Weezy” Breakbolt - A  goblin  cartel bruiser-turned-mercenary. A regular drinking buddy.

Tomas Marsters - A forsaken con artist and Erik’s cousin.

Durrn Wyvernsting - An Orcish sharpshooter. A regular drinking buddy.

LOVE INTERESTS: None, at the moment.

ANY PETS? yes [ ] | no [X] 



  • Strength - 16(+3) - A life-long and un-life-long soldier, Erik spends quite a bit of time making sure his already decaying body doesn’t atrophy or decay further. Whether it makes any difference or not, or if any of his strength comes from his undeath, Erik doesn’t know, but his strength is impressive and well above the average citizen’s.
  • Dexterity - 14(+2) - As a soldier, he trains himself for flexibility and agility. He still isn’t sure how much he would be capable of if he were still living, but he likes to think he would be just as agile.
  • Constitution 18(+4) - Even in life, Erik was able to endure pain, sickness, and weather that would have made many men buckle. In undeath, he’s unfazed by even mortal wounds.
  • Intellect - 10(0) - He attended a military academy in life. He’s as educated as the average man.
  • Wisdom - 12(+1) - Erik has a good head on his shoulders. He’s an observant man, something that served him as a town guard.
  • Charisma - 10(0) - Perhaps a bit abrasive at times, perhaps a bit too stoic at others. He isn’t a force of personality in most situations, preferring to remain reserved and keep to himself.


  • Erik is a soldier, and an expert with polearms and zweihanders. Though, his training extends to a plethora of other weapons.
  • Erik is a skilled tracker in urban settings, able to suss out information and find people well enough to be noted.
  • He’s a hobbyist survivalist and tracker, self-taught.
  • Erik is a talented whittler and fair hand at carpentry.



Fearless, Loyal, Strong, Rugged, Fair, Level-headed, Open-Minded, Patient, Humble, Rational, Cooperative, Good-hearted, Pragmatic



Curt, Aloof, Cynical, Blunt, Foul-mouthed



: Black, Brown
SMELLS: Cinnamon, Vanilla
FOOD: Steak, Apple Pie, Eggy Bread
FRUITS: Apples
DRINKS: Apple Juice


COLORS: Yellow
SMELLS: Ginger
FOOD: Sushi
FRUITS: Pomegranates
DRINKS: Prune Juice



SMOKES? yes [X] | no [ ]
DRUGS? yes [X] | no [ ]
FLYING LICENSE? yes [X] | no [ ] 
EVER BEEN ARRESTED? yes [X] | no [ ]

Klaine one-shot - “Learning to Love a New Teenage Dream” (Rated T)

Kurt loves his husband, no matter what. Even if he’s not necessarily the same man he married.

Written for the @todaydreambelievers Prompt #44: (Author of the Week, Lurkdusoleil’s choice) Kurt or Blaine with a disability.

Read on AO3.

“God!” Blaine exclaims, working open the buttons of his coat, “that Thai place was amazing!”

“It is your favorite,” Kurt says, locking the door quickly to lend his husband a hand.

“And I never knew I could love Sondheim so much.” Blaine shrugs off his coat, and Kurt carries it to the closet, to hang it up beside his own.

“Some things never change.”

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You Never Quite Understood | NaruSaku Day Contribution

Was this it?

Was this how the great Uzumaki Naruto would die?

The attack hadn’t done him in. He hadn’t gone up in a blaze of glory as he envisioned, rather he was falling. Falling to the Earth and away from her.

The wind whipped around the ninja and as he fell further it began to eerily quiet itself. No, it wasn’t calming down, or maybe even silencing itself for his sake. He was loosing consciousness. The explosion which Toneri triggered wiped his mind clean, dulled his senses and now, in its aftermath, had the potential to end him. All the while his darkened cerulean eyes never left the sky he faced. They never broke from the saddened white which moved further and further away.

“… Hinata…”

The aid of the air moving so rapidly against his back made it simple to lift a hand upward toward the moon. She looked worried. Unsure of what would come of the free fall Naruto found himself in. An attempt to save her from the grasp of the bizarre, pale descendant had resulted in this.

Toneri Otsutsuki.

A new enemy with a strange strength Naruto had yet to wrap his brain around. Techniques to rival Madara and words with enough power to manipulate damn near anyone. Whatever he’d told Hinata had somehow warped her mind. It was the only explanation.

She would never willingly go with a villain. It didn’t work. He knew Hinata, understood just how kind and true she was. His stomach twisted, even now as he fell to the dirt. She was being used and there was no way she wasn’t. Hell, as it was nothing made sense. The sky, though already dark, seemed to fade to pitch black and as the world vanished, so did his thoughts.

The last fragment of reality he could see was the small dots Hinata and her captor had become, who were, at last lost from his vision. His eyes shift shut and there’s nothing. No sky, no whipping wind, just blackness. Left to his mind, which itself holstered many pestering questions, stuck in it, pondering answers. None of them were easy, in fact they stumped his hyperactive mind.




In a blur, a white bird, outlined in a thick black, seemingly hand drawn, dives beneath the falling body. Gloved digits grab hold of the man plummeting to the world and hoist him onto the back of the creature. Soon after, the unit in pursuit of Toneri, Hinata and Naruto are forced to land. The injuries the desperate blonde had sustained were far to great to set a side and move on.

They hadn’t even been able to touch ground before Sakura began to work. The green aura around her gloves indicated just how feverishly she was working, not just to heal, but to keep the man beneath those hands alive. “You… Big idiot!”

“We need to move him!”

Shikamaru is shouting from behind her over the sound of the hurling wind pushing backward against the way they flew. “We don’t know if Toneri has reinforcements!”

So they did just that. Sai lifts the unconscious Naruto onto this back and once the birds touch the earth they’d soared above for so long he leaps from the back and sprints as quickly as he can with the added weight of a body into a small cavern they’d located for the sake of a sort of “hideaway”. They were in a completely different realm than their home, who knew how things worked? Perhaps Toneri could sense them, maybe he could just appear where he willed. But they’d be damned if they didn’t try to counteract the heir who haunted them.

Sakura follows suit and keeps close, no more than a stride or two behind her much taller teammate and his baggage. Everything about this situation dug into her. She knew it would be dangerous, she knew there was bound to be danger but the moment she realized this scrawny, pale, joke of a villain, whom didn’t even have the courage to face his opponents without the use of a puppet, was actually much more of a threat terrified her. Her teammate, Naruto Uzumaki; an essential idol in the eye of the public, an icon for strength and overcoming obstacles had been merely tossed aside at the flick of Toneri’s hand.

It was scary.

But she couldn’t focus on that. Not in that moment. Right then and there Naruto needed her, possibly more so than he’d ever needed her. The only other time it’d been this close was went Madara himself put the blonde down. Her throat clenched and her chest tightened at the thought of that stretch of time.

When she thought he was going to die.

The same tightness returned once Sai managed to put the bandaged nin on the ground. Once she could see the full extent of his injuries the gruesome scene shook her, even if just slightly.

His skin was burnt, torn, bruised, and all of this after several minutes left up to Kurama and his miraculous chakra which most of the time could handle such injuries. If he didn’t heal them completely, he could at least make an impact. If this was after the fact, truth be told it only added a new layer to the terror she felt.

Her hands were shaking as she quickly fiddled to remove the gloves. He was in bad shape and in comparison to what she’d seen something this severe could take hours. Hours which would drain the chakra she wasn’t sure she had.


She can’t afford to hesitate. Hesitation could easily spell death for the man under her and just the thought of that possibility becoming real shocked her to the dimension they found themselves in. Doing the best she can to contain the slight tremor in her fingers, she guides them over Naruto’s torso. There were so many things that needed tending to she found herself at a lost as to where to actually begin.

Seconds seemed to slow just long enough for her frazzled frame of mind to settle with beginning toward the top of him and working down. As she went along, she found herself eerily remembering the day Kurama had been extracted.

It felt wrong instantaneously.

There was a shift on the battle field, everything seemed to so suddenly come undone. The cloaks Naruto’d bestowed on the Shinobi alliance shrank tighter to the forms of the nin, before finally vanishing all together. The feeling beneath the loss of their protection covered up something much deeper in Sakura’s heart which’d dropped into her stomach. The dull, distant light, not physical, but within her felt as if it’d gone out. The knots in her stomach continued to twist tighter as it all came to her. Naruto was in danger. Not just in danger of Madara’s ninjutsu or the various other factions which had appeared throughout the battle, such as Zetsu or the recently defeated Ten Tails.

He was in danger of dying. She could feel it, and it made her physically ill, unlike that light which had since left.

Nothing weighed heavier than the unmistakable feeling of Naruto’s life spilling away right under her touch. She’d seen him sleep. More taxing missions sometimes left him in the hospital overnight so the sight of his closed eyes wasn’t something that was exactly new.

This was different.

This wasn’t something he could just wake up from.

“No… No, you don’t…”

She refocuses, allowing the past to slip away and her attention fall on the fingers which were now working the blonde’s midsection. The green, soothing glow around her now barehands suddenly grows higher, more effort evident behind the strain on her face and intensity of her medical ninjutsu.

“You don’t get to do this to me again!”

It isn’t long before the bulk of his more pressing gashes and scraps were gone. She hadn’t realized just how much effort she was pouring into fixing him. She didn’t, at least until she could feel herself becoming lightheaded. She slows, feeling her eyes droop before catching herself mid-fall. A pale hand caught her and she readjusts. It took a few seconds, but she finally felt as though she could continue.

She hadn’t resumed a full thirty seconds before a gruff grunt, followed by a familiar voice breaks her concentration.


Her neck turns and her bright jade eyes come across her teammate’s. She feels tears starting to run along the brim of her eyes.

Those tears never fall though. Two blinks and a sudden punch to the man’s jaw, met with a shout and overly obnoxious whine.


She hadn’t hit him nearly as hard as the fear in her heart encouraged her to. “Why didn’t you come back and get us instead of chasing him, you dolt!”

“What'dya mean, why? He would’ve been long gone by the time I got back here.”

“That doesn’t mean you can run off and get yourself killed! Why didn’t you use a clone or something? You’re smarter than that, Naruto!”

The tone Sakura’s voice let Naruto see just how upset she was. Her hand was still beside his head on the ground and in the corner of his vision, be it from exhaustion or worry, she was trembling. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop talking, you’re still-”

“I said I’m sorry.”

The cracks in his lips and the scratch to his voice momentarily clears on the second attempt at an apology. “I… I didn’t think it through.”

Sakura could see the disappointment and discontent with himself in his expressive gaze. It was tired, but still so obvious.

“… Well, I can’t say that’s something shocking.”

“H… Hey! I’m trying to be- Ow!”

A twinge of pain shocks him. Even though it hurt, the fact he was conscious was a huge step forward.

“Like I was saying, you’re hurt. Now hold still and let me finish.”

Silence comes over them, though only temporary. Before long, Sakura herself has to break it. She has far too many, far too important questions to pass up. “What exactly were you thinking?…”


“What were you thinking? I’ve known you for years. You’re the most brash, short-tempered, impulsive person I know.”

“Yeah, and?”

This was nothing new. In fact, in terms of her usual scoldings, this conversation was pretty tame.

“But even as brain dead as you are sometimes you’ve never… Just run off after someone like that.”

She could see the confusion suddenly painted over his expression.

“Even when Shikamaru told you about Sasuke running off you waited for the team to assemble before you went after him…”

“That was different, Hinata was in danger.”

“You thought Sasuke was.”

His eyes widen as she continues, “You knew where Sasuke was going. You knew what Orochimaru had planned. But you waited, even if it was for the slightest bit of time.”

A few seconds and he retaliates.

“I needed orders-”

“Oh don’t give me that.”

She rolls her eyes, meeting his at the end of it. “The Naruto I know doesn’t need or want orders. Try again.”

Silence yet again, but this time it’s met with a slow-rising, menacing grin from the pink haired medic. “You have a crush don’t you, Narutooo!~”

The blood which’d been rushing out of him seems to soak up like a sponge and disperse into his cheeks and face, which earned laughter from Sakura as her hand lifts from the ground and is placed on her stomach. She erupts in laughter at a new reaction from Naruto. She’d never seen him so nervous.

“N-No, that’s not it!”

“It is! It totally is!”

“No it isn’t!”

“It is!”


His eyes sink down toward his feet, eyes shifting to the side as he continued to mumble out responses and retorts, “Even if I did, and I don’t, now isn’t the best time to talk about this kind of thing.”

“Yeah, well. You aren’t going to be walking for a while, and I’ve done all I can without passing out, so you need to try again… Again.” She smiles, allowing a small giggle to push through her lips.

It was more like Naruto didn’t want to talk about it.

The mention of any sort of romantic interest between Hinata and himself made him feel incredibly guilty. How had he not seen it? Maybe he had and just chose to ignore it?

Toneri’s genjutsu had spelled it out for him and even then it was hard for him to fully wrap his head around it.

“… Where’s Shikamaru and Sai?”

“Feel like talking now?”


“They went out to try and find some way to track Toneri. Relax, hothead.”

“Sorry, I… I’m just confused.”

Sakura takes the time to rock back and properly sit, folding her calf under her thigh and placing her hands in her lap. “About what?”

“Everything…? My head feels fuzzy.”

“Probably has to do with the fact you were bleeding so badly. You know. Because you didn’t come and get us.”

It was Naruto’s turn to roll his eyes. He relaxes back onto the ground, staring up at the stone that hovers above and surrounds them completely, lit by a small lantern set in another corner. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know.”

Why did that make her nervous? She could feel her cheeks suddenly brighten. The slightest shade of red ran along the center of her face, almost forced to look away from the incapacitated ninja she’d revived.

She decided to try and make things more casual, trying her hand at a small tease like they always did, “No, I know… I just meant which time-”

“Thanks for trying to help me understand what Hinata was feeling.”

“… Oh.”

Now, why did that sting?

“It’s no big deal. You were always a dunce when it came to romantics.”

A brow lifts on Naruto’s face, “That bad?”

“Oh it was horrible.”

Her voice drops, almost so she herself wouldn’t hear, “I guess it was kinda charming though.”

His ears start to burn, trying to confirm what she’d said. Did she mean that? No way, this was Sakura Haruno. He had made countless attempts at taking her out and each one, with the exception of one or two, ended in rejection. If they’d been too outlandish, they put his face in the dirt and bruises on his cheeks. “What makes you say that?”

She jumps a bit, shocked he’d heard, “Oh… Um… I mean, obviously there was something there. Hinata fell for it, didn’t she?”

“I don’t get why… But, I guess she did… Wait, what do you mean was?”

Her head tilts, pink hair shifting with the subtle movement.

“What do you mean ‘was horrible’? Who said I was done trying?”

Her knee jerk reaction was to punch the moron in the head again, but she stops once she begins to think of the significance of what he was saying.

“I thought you and Hinata were gonna start…?”

“Dating…? No.”

“But I thought you said you understood her now.”

His head shifts, looking away from his medic and toward the stone to his left. His neck was the only part of him he could move without causing any real pain, though there was still a bit of a pull in his shoulder.

“I do but… I thought about it for a while. And then I figured it out.”

Again, she finds herself sitting quietly, on edge as she waited for him to finish speaking.

“She’s felt the way she has for so long. She hasn’t been open about it, but it was really fuckin’ obvious now that I’m thinking about it. She went through so much just sitting there waiting on me. That had to be painful. She watched me ignore her feelings and every time she would make any sort of attempt at contact I would blow her off, call her weird, just walk on by… Anything but talk to her about it. She doesn’t deserve that. I’ve treated her so badly for so long that no amount of anything I could give her would make up for it.”

Her eyes slant and her fists clench, drawing a hand back, prepared to swing and cause more damage to the Uzumaki’s brain. “Shut up…”


“I said, shut up!”

The fist falls, just beside Naruto’s head. Through the surprise of it all, he took a silent note at how weak the hit was. He knew that she could’ve destroyed the cave with a few punches but this one was off. Perhaps it had something to do with all the time she’d spending repairing him.

“Don’t ever… Talk about yourself like that…”

Her voice finally lets on that exhaustion she had been feeling for quite some time, eyes drifting closed for a few quick seconds, recovering enough to speak again, wasting no time to carry on with her vocal confrontation. “Naruto Uzumaki… You are one of the most selfless, kind and loving people I know and will ever meet… I know Hinata isn’t going to mind you not knowing… She’s too sweet for that. She still loves you and I am not gonna let someone talk bad about the person she-”


“H… Huh?…”

“You’re crying.”

Tears were streaming down Sakura’s face, completely undetected by the female actually spilling them. Why was she upset? Hinata loved him and she knew that.

Hinata loved him and she wouldn’t let him go.

Hinata would be so happy to hear he returned her feelings.

So why did it hurt?

Why didn’t she want to let Naruto go?

Her eyes were shut, head against his chest and trying to contain the trails that only continued to stream. A new wave of guilt rushed over him, looking down and memorizing the leaf symbol that decorated her headband.

Was she…?

“… Sakura-chan… You didn’t let me finish what I had to say.”

She didn’t move. He assumed it was so he couldn’t see anymore of her crying. “I don’t want Hinata to love me because I don’t think I could ever properly return it…”

Rather than lift, the woman turns her head and presses her ear to his chest, perhaps to breathe. “Because there’s someone else…”

“Who the hell else could there be? One of your fans?”

He stops her.

His hands suddenly lift, using what strength he hand to push the woman’s frame, which offered no resistance off of him. He needed to see her eyes. He needed to know she understood what he was about to do. His thumbs, both bandaged and plain, wipe the trails from her soft cheeks, allowing a smile to come over his chapped lips before muttering into the distance between them.

“… And you call me the dunce.”

His wrapped hand moves from her cheek and jaw, moving to her pointed chin that is soon trapped between his knuckle and damp bandage. “It’s you… Dunce…”

With that, a kiss is on her forehead and her green eyes are widened to the point the entirety of her pupil trembles in shock and a new sense of happiness.

“I thought… You just asked me out to compete with Sasuke…”

It’s broken and weak sounding, but Naruto starts laughing louder than he had in a long time.

He detached from her skin and looks into those eyes he’d fallen in love with all those years ago.

“Sakura-chan… I love you, but… That’s the silliest thing I’ve ever heard…”

Saving the World

Originally posted by archangellia

Pairing: Platonic X-Men x Reader

Request: “Can you make a oneshot where the reader sacrifice herself to help the x-men and the brotherhood of mutants stop an enemy who has the ability to take away a mutant power and wants to mutant race to vanished. But at the ending she is still with them, but not in a body but as the element of her powers (example: water, nature, fire, etc)”

Warnings: reader death, gruesome injuries 

A/N: I don’t know if I like how this turned out. Sorry if it’s absolute crap 😑 Hopefully it’s good

You never thought it would happen. You never thought the Brotherhood and the X-Men would team up. But now they were together, fighting an enemy that had the potential to wipe out the entire mutant race; the humans. They had found a “cure” and weaponized it, leaving you and every other mutant in danger.

You stood above the battle, watching the mutant converge on the army of humans among the trees, their yells and shouts echoing through the forest. You could see the shots being fired from the humans, mutants falling to the ground, their abilities lost forever. Your palms were slick with sweat, your chest heaving up and down. You could see your friends appear and siappear through the crowd. Kurt bamfing around, flashes of silver as Peter sped between the trees, Jean using her telekinesis to break apart their weapons. But it wasn’t enough. They were losing, and you knew if you didn’t act soon, your friends and all of their powers would be gone. 

You had a way to take out every enemy human out there. Your powers of elemental control were strong enough. You ignored the nagging thought in the back of your head that screamed at you to stay in the back, to stay out of the fray. To stay alive. But as you watched one of Xavier’s students get shot, a young kid at only thirteen, you knew you couldn’t hide anymore.

You jumped off the hill you were standing on, bending the earth under you to land softly. You pushed through the group of fighting mutants and humans, completely focused on the clearing up ahead where you could unleash your powers.

As you neared the clearing, you felt strangely calm. You knew how this would end. You knew you were,probably not going to make it. This was it. 

You stood up in the middle, extending your hands. You closed your eyes, concentrating on feeling the earth all around you. The ground began to tremble, the trees shaking. The dirt exploded up, the tangle of fighting people surging into one group as you lifted the ground up, separating the humans from the mutants as best you could. You opened your eyes, staring at the group of now-frightening humans staring at you. You could faintly hear Kurt and Peter calling out at the back, yelling your name. Professor Xavier looked at you with an expression you could not place, his face blank. You could feel him trying to reach in your mind, most likely to try and convince you to stop. But you ignored him, creating fire around you.

“It’s over,” you hissed. You sent the fire over to the humans, their screams splitting the air.  You yelled as you felt your power exploding through the forest, tearing trees from their roots and filling the air with smoke and fire.  
You cut it off, breathing heavily, feeling utterly empty and exhausted. Sweat dripped down your face, stinging your eyes. Your ears were ringing, your vision blurry. You could barely comprehend Kurt yelling something to you. You tried to focus in his voice, but a sudden pain shot through your side, sending you to the ground. You looked down to see your side painted red,  a bullet lodged in your ribs. You winced when you felt another shot hit your stomach, making you double over, choking. Everything was moving in slow motion, yet you couldn’t move. You couldn’t do anything.


Kurt couldn’t believe what was happening. He saw you, wreathed in flames as you let your powers out on the humans before you. He froze when he saw a human off in the trees, gun pointed at you. He fired a direct shot into your side, bringing you to the ground. Kurt screamed, running forward to teleport to you. But as he disappeared and reappeared in a cloud of blue, Peter quickly taking out the gunman, he knew he was too late. Your body was crumpled on the ground, the grass around you stained a dark red. Your body was peppered with gunshots. He leaned forward slowly, Peter, the Professor, and even Jean, Scott, and Warren surrounding you, putting a single gentle blue finger on your neck. Your chest was still, no pulse pounded through your neck, even weakly. You were gone. You had sacrificed yourself to save everyone else.

Everyone was silent, even the birds in the trees. The gray clouds that had been gathered by Ororo let their load down, drops splattering everywhere, as if the whole world was mourning. 


Kurt leaned forward, the ground around your body moving. He gasped when you were lifted up, your head rolling back. Bark grew up from the ground, encasing your body. It expanded, branches and bright green leaves appearing. When the ground finally stopped moving, everyone staring in awe, there was a brand new oak tree before the whole of you. Your mutant powers had done one more thing; it had made you into a tree. After all of the killing, it had made something beautiful. And even though you had you had died, you died a hero.

Passions of the Severed Arm

One morning, Yao tries to show how he cares about Alfred by repeating a famous apocryphal gesture from his own history. Alfred responds enthusiastically, though not exactly in the way Yao had intended.  Canonverse, AmeChu with Aromantic!China.  

Warnings: Brief dismemberment, mentions of past violence, profanity (overall nothing too intense tho haha fairly minor)

Additional Tags: Humor, friendship, Cuddling, Chinese History, queerplatonic relationships

( ao3 / )

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My first day on set was a perfect introduction to Teen Wolf. I did a scene with some of the leads of the show where my character was wheeled into the hospital while screaming in pain from a gruesome supernatural injury. I’m glad I got to film with Tyler on my first day because he showed me around the set and told me all about what it is like to work on the show.