worked tube

ok I don’t do non-magic au’s enough but here’s one.

  • Harry and Draco take the tube to work at different times every day.
  • One morning, while waiting for the tube Harry spots a board advertisement with a large Hashtag on it and for the laugh he decides to put a circle in it like the game ‘noughts and crosses’ (tic-tac-toe for americans yikes)
  • Later, Draco spots the same board and puts a cross in it. 
  • Like this, Harry and Draco add another nought or cross to the board every day without physically seeing eachother.
  • Until one particular morning Harry sees the game was a tie and there was a note next to it
    Meet 3pm. We’ll settle this differently
    - Cross
  • Draco sees Harry walking towards the Board.
    “Nought?”
    “Cross?”
  • Obviously Draco wanted to meet him to beat him at something but heck nobody told him Nought was hot. 

    (THIS IS NOT A PROMPT)
The Joyride - Part 2 (Jason Todd x Reader)

A/N: Part 2 to The Joyride! I’m really glad that you guys enjoyed part one so much! Here’s the ending to your cliffhanger, but no guarantees that there won’t be another!

Warnings: Angst, descriptions of injury

Tagging: @solis200213 @pinkwitch21 @tigeragathe @gokusanfan @just-a-girl-maybe @queen-of-all-the-fandoms @neverlandprincessjaz 

Part One // Part Two // Part Three // Part Four


Jason blinked in an attempt to dispel the blurriness that clouded his vision. He was lying in a hospital bed with an IV hooked into his arm. His head was pounding and he squinted at the bright lights above him. He grunted slightly and moved his unhindered wrist to shield his vision.

“You’re awake,” came the gravelly voice from beside him, which he identified as Bruce’s.

“Yeah,” he groaned hoarsely, turning his head to face Bruce. “What time is it?”

 “About five in the morning. It’s a Saturday. Why do you ask?” Bruce replied, maintaining his usual composure.

 Jason noted that it was still early the morning of the accident, meaning he hadn’t been out for too long. “(Y/N). Is she- I- Is she- How is she?”

Jason didn’t miss the darkness in Bruce’s eyes or the grimace that he attempted to hide. He felt a pit forming rapidly in his stomach and he shook his head, his eyes going wide. “She’s- She’s d- dead?

 “Not dead,” Bruce corrected, and Jason let out a sigh of relief. “But it’s bad, Jason. She’s going into emergency surgery. I- I wouldn’t get my hopes up.”

 “Oh.”

 There was silence between the two after that. The occasional beeping of the machines, and the steady quiet buzz of the air conditioner were what kept the room from utter silence. It wasn’t for a few minutes until Bruce spoke again.

 “They say- They say you’re lucky to only have sustained a concussion and some bruising. Especially compared t-” Bruce cut himself off before he could finish. It wasn’t a statement Jason would appreciate.

Jason, however, didn’t need to hear the end of the sentence. He knew what the ending was. Especially compared to her. He shifted his head awkwardly against the stiff material of the hospital pillow to look away from Bruce.

“How did you find out so soon?” Jason asked, less out of interest in the answer and more out of a desire to fill the silence. To give himself less room to think.

 “They recognized (Y/N) as one of my wards, called me over here about an hour ago,” Bruce explained.

 “I see,” Jason replied shortly.

 Another painfully long moment of stiff and awkward silence came to pass.

 “I know you blame me for this but-”

 “I don’t.”

 “You- You don’t?” Jason asked, slightly surprised. He had been expecting Bruce to make this more difficult. To make him feel guiltier than he already did.

“No. But I know you blame yourself. And I don’t think that’s fair,” Bruce said, his tone even and his voice unfaltering.

“How would you know that it’s not my fault? How do you know this didn’t happen because of some irresponsible mistake that I made?” Jason inquired, still surprised at Bruce’s lack of vindictiveness. He turned his head back across the pillow to face the other man.

“How do I know? Because I know that you don’t make irresponsible mistakes when it comes to her. I know that when it comes to her you take precautions, and you’re more careful than I’ve ever seen you,” Bruce stated matter-of-factly 

Jason didn’t know how to respond to that. So he didn’t. And suddenly he understood why Bruce stayed silent when faced with difficult questions. Because sometimes there was no good way to answer. “What are her injuries like?” Jason asked, deflecting off onto another topic.

“Are you sure you want to know? It’s not pretty. I would understand if-”

I want to know,” Jason cut him off firmly, steeling himself for what he was about to hear.

Bruce nodded, the expression on his face grim. “They said that there’s extensive internal bleeding in several locations and-” Bruce paused to let out a weak sigh. “The impact caused several broken ribs. One of which- One of which punctured a blood vessel. The lacerations she suffered were severe and some cut into the bone. One shoulder is dislocated and the opposite wrist is broken. She has shrapnel scattered throughout her legs. It’s not pretty.”

Jason’s mouth ran dry. He had imagined that your injuries would be bad, but this? This was more than he knew how to process. “I- All of that?”

Bruce nodded wordlessly. “Despite all of that,” he started slowly, “They say that she’s lucky. Her head, neck, and spine are all intact, aside from minor stress from impact on her spine.”

“Lucky,” Jason tried out the word for himself, and he felt a sense of bitterness as it rolled off his tongue. Lucky. He didn’t feel like you had been lucky. He felt like the hospital staff decided to call your condition lucky because they didn’t have the hearts to tell him that you were on the verge of death. All because the two of you had been bored and sleepless at an odd hour of the night. No. Lucky wasn’t right. Lucky wasn’t right at all.


You awoke abruptly with a tube down your throat and no idea where you were. Immediately you wanted to kick your arms and legs, but not only were you restrained, it hurt to move. Every inch of your body was in pain, and your muscles ached and your chest hurt with every movement 

You felt panic rising in your chest and you started to hyperventilate. You struggled against your restraints despite the fact that every single fiber of your being was screaming for you to stop. You wanted to cry out, but you couldn’t get your voice to work, and the breathing tube restricted you from any form of verbality. Despite your inability to call for help, before you knew it, there were people in pristine white clothing standing above you and gently holding you down.

You felt a sharp and searing pain rip through your abdomen as you twisted your torso in a strange way while attempting to struggle against the doctors and nurses.

The pain forced you to stop resisting so much, and after a few moments your state of hyperventilation had passed. After you had calmed down, you gained some recollection of what had happened and where you were.

Another few minutes had passed and a nurse began to ask you questions about what you remembered, how you felt, and if you knew why you were there, having you write down your answers on a pad of paper with your unbroken wrist, though she was careful not to harm the dislocated shoulder.

Your writing was barely legible. Your hand had been trembling violently the whole time, and your only usable hand was your off hand.

Once she seemed to be done interviewing you, you zoned out, still in shock after your violent wake-up and the events of the crash. You heard her say something about stitches, and then something about extubation before you completely tuned out 

The breathing tube was uncomfortable, but it seemed like a minor thing compared to the pain you felt up and down your arms and legs, as well as in your abdomen. You had no idea what time it was. The curtains were drawn, and you had absolutely no perception of time, aside from the wall-clock which read seven-fifteen. Morning or night, you couldn’t tell.

You shut your eyes and tried to ignore the pain. Instead you focused on how tired you felt, and how nice it would feel to sleep. Slowly, you drifted out of consciousness.


When you woke up again, you felt no panic. Just bleary eyed and still just as tired as when you had fallen asleep. This time, though, there were two people in the room with you. One at your bedside and another sitting by the door.

You blinked a few times and gave your vision time to clear. You identified the two people as Jason and Bruce, and a strange sense of comfort washed over you. Bruce was dressed in civilian clothes, but Jason wore a hospital gown.

Both were asleep, Bruce hunched over in the too-small chair, and Jason slumped onto the side of the bed with his head resting in his arms.

The clock on the wall read seven-thirty, but you doubted that it had been only fifteen minutes since you were last awake. No. You felt the hours of sleep in the way your eyelids seemed to stick shut when you blinked.

You wanted to make some move to alert them that you were awake, but the breathing tube still kept you from speaking and Jason was on the side of your broken wrist. Your dislocated shoulder prevented you from reaching across and waking him with your other hand 

You felt helpless all over again. You were scared and it felt like you had been alone for an eternity.

As you realized your predicament, you became painfully aware of the sounds of your breathing tube and heart monitor and the buzz of all of the machines that were keeping you alive.

That was another thing that scared you. How close were you to death? What kind of line were you walking? What if you fell onto the wrong side? What if you fell asleep right here and just never woke up? What if the last time you ever got to see Jason he didn’t get to see you? It scared you tremendously. But it was a hollow, passive fear. Passive because what else could you be with a tube down your throat and two useless arms? As you stared up blankly at the hospital ceiling you realized that the most terrifying experience of your life wasn’t staring into the barrel of a gun, or colliding with the asphalt at fifty miles per hour. The most terrifying experience of your life was taking place right then. Staring passively up at a hospital ceiling. Helplessly wondering if you were going to die. There was no adrenaline. There was no rush that kept you from looking death straight in the face.

You pondered this for a long while, until, to your relief, Jason stirred from his sleep.

He groaned slightly as he awoke, and you smiled to yourself as best you could around the tube 

You watched as he lifted his head and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Slowly, his eyes met with yours, and you saw slow relief take over his expression.

He smiled sadly and moved a hand to the side of your face, stroking your cheek with his thumb. “I’m so sorry, baby,” he whispered, his eyes expressing relief, but also guilt and love.

You managed a small shake of your head. It’s not your fault, you wanted to say. The subtle change in his expression told you that he’d understood what you’d meant.

“I love you. I- I just- I need to say that. I love you.” The sadness he carried in his voice broke you. The way his voice started to break at the end. The bittersweet message that his words carried. I love you and I need to say it now because if you fall asleep again I might not get another chance.

You nodded your head as best you could, never breaking eye contact with him. I love you too, you wanted to say. There were so many things you wanted to say in that moment. I love you. It’s not your fault. If I die I don’t want you to blame yourself forever. I’m scared. I love you. I love you. I love you.

His hand never left the side of your face, and he continuously brushed circles on your cheek with his thumb. As you watched him, you swore you could see the moment where whatever thoughts he was having, whatever ideas plagued his mind, broke him. His face contorted into a caricature of grief and it alarmed you.

It was so unlike Jason to cry, or display his grief so openly. Part of you wanted to tell him not to waste his tears on you, but the other side wanted to cry along with him. To cry because of the helplessness that ate away at your resolve.

Jason managed to wipe away his tears quickly, and if you hadn’t seen it yourself, you wouldn’t have been able to guess that he had been weeping just moments earlier. He rest his head gently against your upper arm, careful not to hurt you.

A few moments of comfortable silence passed before you felt a sharp and painful twinge in your abdomen. You winced slightly, but paid it no mind. You figured it was just a bruise, or some stitch from your surgery that had been pulled 

You grunted in pain when the twinge returned, more painfully. You became alarmed once the pain branched up into your chest. It hurt like hell, and soon your entire abdomen was in excruciating pain.

You cried out through the breathing tube. It was a strange, mangled sound and it had Jason’s head shooting up from the bed.

“(Y/N)?” he asked in a panic, trying to get you took look at him. You cried out again, and Bruce, who had just woken up, shouted for a nurse.

Several people came running into the room, two of which began pulling a struggling Jason out into the hallway.

He fought tooth and nail to get back to your side, struggling hard against the people who were pulling him away. 

“I love you!” he shouted, just as he was pulled out into the hall, and the door was shut in his face.

flickr

SSCX! by bryan hollingsworth
Via Flickr:

THE PROCESS OF MICROWAVE COOKING WAS DISCOVERED WHEN AN ENGINEER NAMED PERCY SPENCER WAS WORKING ON SOME RADAR TUBES AND NOTICED THAT THE CANDY BAR IN HIS POCKET MELTED. 

WHILE TESTING THIS PROCESS, SPENCER AND HIS TEAM MANAGED TO SUCCESSFULLY COOK POPCORN, THE FIRST FOOD EVER INTENTIONALLY COOKED VIA MICROWAVE, AND ATTEMPTED TO COOK AN EGG, WHICH LITERALLY BLEW UP IN THEIR FACES. 

THE CANDY BAR WAS A HERSHEY’S “MR. GOODBAR.”

Our First and Last (Ch. 7)

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 | Ch. 8 | Ch. 9 | Ch. 10 | 

Ch. 11

  • Pairings: Jeon Jungkook x Reader (MAIN) | Park Jimin x Kim Taehyung | Jung Hoseok x Min Yoongi | Kim Namjoon x Kim Seokjin
  • Genre: angst and fluff, soulmate au, scifi
  • Words: 3,285
  • Description: “It’s likely that this person is not one person but a mix of two or more people. It’s not uncommon for someone in your dreams to actual be a combination of more than one person you know in real life. I think your affection for this guy might’ve just given him a ticket to merge with whatever person or people you’ve consistently dreamt of for most of your life” Taehyung explains.

“Hobi, thank you so much for driving me, I am so nervous right now,” You wipe your clammy hands on your thighs as you sit in the passenger’s seat of Hoseok’s car. You were so glad he offered to drive you to Dr. Jeon’s lab because you would be running late otherwise, and being late on the first day would be a horrible way to start off and not to mention leave the most undesirable lasting impression.

“Hey, no prob, I wanted to meet this guy anyways” Hoseok says, head still turn towards the road in front. He was wearing his sunglasses, so you could only see the upward curve of his lips as he grins.

Traffic wasn’t too bad since most people were already at work around 10 in the morning.

When the two of you arrive, you see that it was a huge hospital building that looked very new and modern, with parts of the walls made of glass. The windows reflected the bright sunlight, and there were potted flowers and other shrubs near the main entrance. A round fountain with an abstract design was flowing with shallow water, and people were walking in and out of the automatic revolving door. It definitely seemed like a busy place.

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Here you are, @pokeharvest - Ooh, you should write a Scotty one where the reader is in engineering and names all the little parts of the ship, and at first Scotty is like “woah and people think I’m nuts about the Enterprise” but then he finds himself joining in on it, confusing everyone else

Word Count: 2007

Author’s Note: I took a few liberties with your request. I hope you enjoy it! PS, TOS Enterprise is approximately ⅓ the size of AOS Enterprise. Despite the fact that my blueprints allow for 250 crew on the Enterprise, TOS Bones once said there was 430-ish people on the Enterprise, so there’s obviously some wiggle room in interpreting size. That means AOS Enterprise could have a crew of 750-1200, depending, but I couldn’t find a definitive answer. Also, aside from size, no new specs on AOS Enterprise. So I had to do a little faking. The swimming pool and bowling alley are totally on the blueprints I have of TOS Enterprise though, they just have nothing really to do with the work of an engineer. Also, I hope I didn’t vilify poor Appleton too much. I’ve been dealing with a bully at work, and it just… bubbled over into the story. P.S. The best part of this was trying to find a song about how currents work, and re-discovering School House Rock’s Electricity.


“Mr. Scott, this ship is huge. I’m worried I’m going to get lost,” one of the other newly assigned grads blinked her eyelashes in a show of wide-eyed innocence that made you want to gag. Montgomery Scott, Chief Engineer on the U.S.S. Enterprise, quirked an eyebrow and turned to face her.

“Aye, lass. She’s a little over 700 metres in length -”

“725, sir,” you interrupted. You couldn’t help yourself. You’d spent most of your last year at the Academy fantasizing about being assigned to the fleet’s flagship. Studying the Enterprise specs had been your geeky little secret hobby. Stepping off the shuttle onto her had felt like coming home. There was nothing out of place. It looked exactly as you’d imagined, you suspected largely in part thanks to the handsome Scotsman standing at the head of your Engineering bay orientation. His blue eyes flicked over to assess you, and the hint of a smile lit his face.

“I love the enthusiasm of new grads,” he grinned. “Thank you, Ensign?”

“Y/L/N,” you provided. Ensign Eyelashes glared at you for the rest of the orientation, obviously angry that you’d distracted Mr. Scott’s attention.

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“Better Hands” - Part 4 (Finale)

“Better Hands” - Part 4

( Part 1 / Part 2  / Part 3)

My Masterlist - Here

Leonard “Bones” McCoy x Reader

Word Count: 1,972

Key: Y/N = Your Name, L/N = Your Last Name, H/C = Your Hair Color, E/C = Your Eye Color

Warnings: Cursing, nothing else really. Please let me know if I missed anything

Summary: After being in an abusive relationship, you have been able to turn your life around thanks to the help of the team. But when you have to go back to your ex for some of your things, some shit goes down.

Originally posted by urban-trek-thru-middle-earth

Author’s Note: So this is my first Star Trek piece and I’m super fuckin nervous about it. I’m not a huge Trekkie, but I am a fan of the newer films. Those are what I base my fics off of unless stated otherwise. But yeah, I hope you enjoy!

If you would like to be tagged in any of my future pieces (All Works, Specific Fandoms, or Specific Multi-Parts), please let me know! And as always, feedback is greatly appreciated!

<3

- DreaSaurusREX

Tags: @goodnightwife @feelmyroarrrr @the-witching-hours12-3 @pokeharvest @iwillstaywiththemforever


You reported to Scotty a little later than you thought, but you went to work nonetheless. Scotty was surprised to see you back so soon, but he didn’t see too much harm in it. The only injury he knew about what the one of your hand from yesterday’s accident with the knife. Even though he let you work, he wasn’t okay with giving you too much to do. He didn’t want to run the risk of you injuring yourself again while your hand was still wrapped up.

It was about halfway through the workday for you. You were in a Jefferies Tube working on a sensor. Scotty was going to help you out when he realized that he had forgotten one of his welding tools back in the workshop. You decided to just go ahead and work on it until he came back.

You were about to finish undoing the last bolt when your comm went off. You didn’t even look at who was calling, you just figured it was Scotty letting you know he was on his way back. Placing the comm in between your good shoulder and your ear, you answered while still focusing on the sensor.

“(Y/L/N) here.”

“Where the hell are you?!” Leonard wasn’t yelling, but his voice had an intensity that you hadn’t heard before. You knew he was upset. Very upset.

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2

Working desk job means exactly this: apartment, tube, workplace, tube, apartment. It’s hard to find sunlight anymore, but he doesn’t think he minds: maybe he’s already used to this. It’s been longer than he cares to remember. 

He spends about two hours a day on the tube - not much compared to the amount of time he spends in his booth at work, but he doesn’t really register those eight hours. It’s like his mind switches itself off the moment he arrives to work and leaves him running on muscle memory alone. Time operates the same way when he’s at home, so by now maybe he’s only really conscious during the two hours on the tube. 

[…]

Sometimes he stays back on the tube past his stop. Sometimes until it reaches the end of the line. Sometimes he takes the tube with the intention of going somewhere specific, but then just sits there as his destination flies past him into the dark tunnel he’s just passed. Sometimes he goes down into the stop, just to hear the quiet again. 

Sometimes he sees maintenance doors somewhere in the tunnels, and for no reason he keeps their locations in mind. 

[…]

Sometimes the tube takes a turn that he doesn’t recognize, and he feels his heart beating faster all of a sudden. He would stare at the railway through the window pane, counting the seconds, until the tube runs past a corner he knows, or until he reaches his destination. Those moments still happen to him after two years of taking the tube to go… anywhere, really. He thinks he has the whole map learned by heart by now, but the underground keeps proving him wrong. 

[…]

There’s a community online for tube dwellers. He doesn’t know any of the dozen of members, online or offline, but he has come by some of them on other forums before. They don’t seem to be of any particular profile: there are men, there are women, ranged from 20 to maybe older than 50. The posts are few and far between, but some of them detail everything reachable by the tube. There are things even he doesn’t know. 

He screenshots some of the posts and keeps the photos in a separate folder, for no particular reason. 

The community hasn’t had a new activity for about three months by now. The members call themselves Rats. He checks through some of their personal pages on that site; the ones he checks have all been abandoned. 

Maybe they’re tired of the lack of sunlight in the tube, he thinks on the way to work. The tube sways and trembles quietly, its hum fills the air. Humans aren’t made for the underground afterall. 

concept of something vaguely formed in my head. I call it Rats of Spice City. 

anonymous asked:

Say do you have any random headcanons for Kiri? My day has been shitty and I need some happy Kiri things.

of course!!

  • kiri has siblings. many. at least three younger ones i bet.
  • he has two younger sisters and a younger brother. they all fucking adore him because he’s the manliest
  • kiri helps style his lil siblings’ hairs and help them try out whatever crazy stuff they want because look at those spikes those are the results of some hard work and twenty tubes of gel
  • he sometimes bench presses his siblings as a work out
  • please stop kiri that’s a hazard
  • highkey believe that kiri has animal food on him at all times. he sees a stray dog? bam piece of meat out of nowhere. sees a stray cat? bAM CAT FOOD. PIGEON ?? BAM,, SEEDS. TURTLE?? NO FEARS HE HAS LETTUCE.
  • kirishima has two hug settings, the “i’m going to squeeze you with all my might so you’ll know how much i care about you” and the soft and gentle one where he loops around the lower back and puts his head on your shoulder.
  • he once dyed his hair yellow in an attempt to be manlier..
  • it didn’t work

i hope your day gets better anon??? i hope this kiri helps you feel better

Pokemon in Q branch

It was a well known fact that the new Pokémon app attracted many nerds, plenty who had grown up playing the game in their youth. Generally regarded as a success, the mobile game had one major change: instead of navigating your character with arrow keys, you now had to physically walk around yourself.
That’s all well and good on the weekends, when it’s warm outside and a stroll in one of London’s many parks seems like a good idea. But some people had to work.
Specifically the Quartermaster of MI6. Originally, he was only able to catch Pokemon on his commute to and from work. Yet with the tube journey being both fast and underground, he didn’t find many.
It wasn’t until he discovered a way to trick the system that he started really enjoying the game. The app uses the gps data of the phone to determine speed and position. But it doesn’t have to be data of the phone itself.
With a little programming, Q was now able to connect the app to trackers he placed on the stray cat population of the city.
His minions were amazed by how quickly their boss had levelled up. He stayed in his office all day, right? They knew his phone was never out of reach. But they were Q branch workers for a reason. They figured it out.
Q was glad to distribute the code to his minions. Especially when one of them suggested a way to collect the regional Pokémon around the world.
And that is how, without them knowing, the agents of MI6 became Pokémon hunters.

The Ivys

Once on the verge of living on the streets, the hippie Ivy family now lives the “trustifarian” lifestyle after Rainflower inherited a fortune from a long-lost great-aunt. No longer bound by the shackles of a budget, this family can have anything they’d like, except they don’t know what they want! Will the influx of money be a curse for the Ivy family?

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The Cure. (The Walking Dead)

Originally posted by daryl-dixon-is-life

The Inova Alexandria Hospital stood longer than most everything else in the small town located on the northeast banks of Virginia, but it too fell in the end. This is where I have been held up since the beginning. At first my main priority was surviving, but the longer I stayed the more I discovered about what the doctors had been doing here. They had been trying to figure out what was causing the epidemic that has now taken over the world and reanimates the dead. With nothing else to do with my time, I dedicated myself to finishing their work with less than half of the supplies the doctors themselves had had in their possession.

Time went by quickly while I researched and tested for what seemed like a waste of time and resources, in my opinion. It seemed I failed more than I won with these experiments. I had a close call with a dead one I had tried to bring into the hospital once. Much to my dismay, I had no choice but to dispose of the corpse and find another one. The research progress was slow and frustrating. It felt as if I was gaining nothing out of this but headaches.

What was worse is that I was running out of supplies a lot quicker now than before I started researching. I was in need of fuel for the vortex machine and for the air conditioning in the building. It had to be cold so I could feel when the corpses turned even the slightest bit warm. Today I had no other choice than to leave the hospital and scavenge.The only reason this was a burden to me was due to the fear of having an encounter with other people. I wasn’t selfish with the hospital’s shelter, but I wasn’t exactly trusting of what people had become now that the world had gone to shit.

There weren’t as many dead ones outside of the hospital. I kept most of them fenced in around the health department not too far from the hospital itself. This made it easy to get across the street and hide along the walls of the high school where I kept backup ammunition and resources. The stuff I wouldn’t touch unless it was an absolute emergency. And finally, across the street from the high school was the Bradlee Shopping Center. I had a foolproof route I took to obtain my supplies. It was safe and untraceable to outsiders.

I wouldn’t bluntly say I was more intelligent than other people, but I’ll say it now considering there are few people left. I’ve always been a gifted problem solver. I was good at math and science. I analyzed and planned and developed strategies before ever taking action. I was a thinker, not a doer. That was until I stumbled upon a fairly large group of survivors. The sudden presence of so many people overwhelmed me and when a boy around my age spotted me the first thing that popped into my head was to bolt for it.

That was the most impulsive thing I had ever done. In any other situation I would’ve hidden until they left and returned to the hospital afterwards. There was no way one of them wouldn’t find me if I had hidden in the Safeway supermarket we were all in though. When I made it to the high school, I made sure they weren’t close behind me and then returned to the hospital, clutching the bag in my arms tightly and trying to steady my breathing.

As the day progressed, the group had left my mind and I was so engrossed in today’s results that I didn’t even notice when they came into the hospital. They had managed to rig the alarm from the outside. Recently, my research seemed to be on a consistent track, it was leading me somewhere and just as I was printing out the final results I heard a gun cock behind me.

“Put your hands behind your head and turn around.” The rough voice behind me was too close for me to reach under my desk for the gun I had taped under the wooden surface. My heart was beating rapidly against my chest and I swallowed the lump in my throat, refusing to let them intimidate me. “Turn around or I’ll pull the trigger.”

An irritated sigh left my mouth before I could stop it and I turned around rather snappily. I was annoyed with this man’s audacity to come into my shelter and tell me what to do, but I was smart enough not to do anything in front of his large group who all had a weapon aimed at me. “Can I offer you some coffee?” My voice was dripping with sarcasm, a trait not exactly appreciated by the group.

“What’s your name?” the guy asked, coming closer and causing me to take a sudden step back.

“Stay away from me.” I warned. The guy glared at me, his grip tighter on the handle of his gun at being ordered by a teenager. Regardless, he gave his group a look and they all took one step back.

“What’s your name?” he repeated.

“Y/N.”

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

“I’ve been here since the start. What are you doing here?” I put my hands down and they all tightened their grip on their weapons. Their leader put a hand up and gave them a single nod. Their weapons came down, but the tension in the air was still thick. I saw a boy around my age shivering, holding a baby girl closely to his chest. I had forgotten how cold it was in here. “Do you want a blanket?”

The boy’s blue eyes met mine and he gave me a thankful nod. I moved past them and towards a closet near the door of the laboratory. I pulled out a blanket and handed it to him. He wrapped it around the baby on his chest and his bare arms crawling with goosebumps.

“We saw you out there and thought you might have a shelter.” the leader’s eyes seemed to soften after my gesture as did his voice. “My name’s Rick Grimes.”

“You should know, Rick Grimes,” I said as I finished printing out my results. “This isn’t an open home for those wandering out in that world.”

Rick nodded, placing his gun in his holster. “I know, but I think it’s worth a shot to convince you. We’d stay out of your way. We’d stay in our part of the building. We’d help you scavenge. Glenn,” an Asian man came up to Rick’s side and I turned to give him a nod. “He’s our best scavenger. In and out. And Daryl,” he motioned to the man holding a crossbow. “Daryl can track anything.”

“I may be a teenager, but I’m not naive. I know what it’s like out there and there is no way a dead one didn’t see you on your way here. Then that dead one causes a chain reaction and more dead ones follow him and the next thing you know there’s a herd of them blocking my exit ways. It’ll be much harder to know if one got in now considering you destroyed my alarm system. You’re impulsive and don’t think you actions through, Rick. I can’t have that type of people under the same roof as me.”

“Listen, kiddo,” a redheaded man with a handlebar mustache came up to the front. “You may think that you’re the shit after fixing this place up and figuring out how to work that test tube spinning thing, but there are bigger problems than you’re bullshit science fair projects out there. Are you really going to send a baby back out there?”

“She’s survived this long.” I said with a small shrug.

“We are on a mission to get this man,” he pulled a nonchalant looking man sporting a mullet to his side. “To Washington, D.C. Eugene here has the cure to whatever the hell is happening out in that shit show and if you don’t help us we are all undoubtedly going to end up like those walking hell raisers out there.”

My eyes met with those of Eugene’s. They were shifting, trying to avoid mine. I smirked a little. “Do you really? Well that makes two of us.” His eyes narrowed while the rest of the group’s widened.

“What?” Rick asked.

The vortex machine came to a stop and I pulled out one of the test tubes before walking towards the back room. Rick and his group followed me without hesitation. The dead one I had tied down to the operating table began to struggle against it’s restraints when he heard us come in, when he smelled us. “I’ve been doing some research since the beginning,” I paused. “Well, adding on to previous research files, more like. It’s safe to say that today is the closest I’ve come to a potential cure.”

“How likely is this cure going to work?” a black woman with a katana asked. My eyes met hers and I hesitated slightly on answering, but I got nothing out of lying to them.

“There is an 83% chance that this will work. That is the highest percentage outcome I’ve had since the start.” I handed Michonne the results I had printed out and she had Eugene take a look at them to confirm.

“That is accurate,” Eugene looked at me. “But I don’t know if I’d trust it. What’s in the cure?”

“Amoxicillin and Ciprofloxacin.”

“Those are only antibiotics. The use of the two simultaneously will cause nothing but an even quicker death. What you’ve created is a suicide injection , kid. Death guaranteed and certified by your own hand.”

The group shared a look among themselves that only they understood before turning back to me. “It might not work, kid.” Daryl spoke gruffly.

My shoulders raised slightly as I turned to the dead one. The syringe I used filled up a little over halfway with the antibiotic mixture and then I injected it into the dead one’s arm. There was a dilation in the pupils behind the cloudiness in its eyes. Slowly, the white began to clear away and the struggling lessened as did the moans and groans. And suddenly, it fell limp and stiff still. I quickly turned to the monitors and stared at the heart rate as well as at the corpse’s body temperature.

“A body loses or gains heat progressively until it equilibrates with the temperature of its environment. The normal body temperature is 98.6 degrees Fahrenheit. The temperature in this room is exactly 52 degrees Fahrenheit. Which means the body needs to reach 52 degrees before it begins to revive and reach the normal body temperature again.”

“How cold is the body right now?” Rick asked.

“99.2 degrees. He was recently bitten, a day ago more specifically. It took him two hours to reanimate and his body matched the temperature outside. Even so, once he reaches the normal body temperature and comes back in a human state he’ll be very ill, but with the right medication he will be able to heal.”

“A body loses 1.5 degrees per hour. We won’t see any results until then, kid.” Eugene said.

“Stop calling me kid,” I snapped angrily. “My name is Y/N and this cure is created to work faster than 1.5 degrees an hour. In thirty minutes his body temperature will be 97.7 degrees. And I’m not asking you to stay to see any results. I’m not asking you to stay at all.”

Rick put a hand up before Eugene could retaliate. “We have nowhere else to go. Please let us stay. Just for the night. We’ll be out of your hair in the morning.” he pleaded. Our eyes held each other’s for a long minute and I then I found myself nodding.

“Fine. But in the morning, you’re out of here.” I said firmly. Rick nodded in agreement. I looked at the corpse’s monitors and sighed. Maybe it wasn’t going to work. Maybe I had put too much hope into this. Maybe they were right. “I’ll show you where you can stay.” I lead the group to the hospital’s lobby and set them up with blankets and pillows before returning to the lab.

It wasn’t until I arrived there that I heard a loud crash behind me and I turned to see Glenn bending down to pick up a metal trash bin. I chucked and he blushed. “Sorry. I was doing good until then.”

“Did you need something?” I asked walking into the lab and to the back room.

“I just wanted to tell you that I think it might work.” I looked at Glenn and he gave me a small smile. “I don’t know much about science, but I don’t really have anything to lose with having hope on this.”

“Thanks, Glenn.” I said with genuine appreciation.

In the brief silence between us a faint beep emitted from the monitors and we both turned to see that the corpse’s temperature had dropped to 97.7 degrees Fahrenheit.


Requested: Reader is an incredibly smart and tough teenager held up in a hospital working on a cure. Scavenging one day, she stumbles into Team Family and they follow her back to the hospital. After explaining her situation, they don’t think her cure will work, but it does. I actually have no idea if anything in this scenario in regards to ‘the cure’ is even the slightest bit accurate, but I did my best. Regardless, I hope you like it! Thanks for requesting! xx