wounded foot

It still amazes me how some of the Columbine victims survived their wounds. Just to name a few: Patrick Ireland was shot twice in the head and still has a bullet lodged in his brain. Nicole Nowlen was under the table with John Tomlin and was hit with nine pieces of buckshot in her abdomen with five pieces still lodged in her stomach. Mark Kintgen was hit in the left side of the neck and head. Mark Taylor was shot five times in the back and two in the chest by Eric, and two bullets just barely missed his aorta. Valeen Schnurr suffered nine gunshot wounds to her arm, chest and abdomen. Lance Kirklin was shot point blank in the face by Dylan among other wounds to the foot, leg, and chest.

The windshield of Sgt. Rudy Reyes’ (Generation Kill) humvee the morning after a bridge ambush outside Muwaffaqiya, Iraq. The bullet ricocheted into the windshield the moment Reyes bent down to assess his wounded team leader’s foot. March 31, 2003.

SOURCE: Daily Garlic

TSK: As supportive as a cheap bra


Cranquis throughout

Cranquis giving discharge instructions: “…now when you change the dressing, wash the wound carefully. Studies show that foot wounds heal faster if your husband kisses them regularly, but you could also apply bacitracin and…”

Husband: wait what

Cranquis + Patient:

Entry #13: Rabbit’s Foot

FFxiv 30 Day Writing Challenge
Prompt #13: Wounded Animal

Possible triggers: injured animal, light blood

The sound of the small cries had caught her attention, fuzzy ears swiveling in their direction and leading her toward the source of the sound. She wandered off the beaten path into the underbrush, traveling just a few fulms before she found the creature. It was a small rabbit lying upon the forest floor, its back leg broken and bleeding. It had fallen silent now that it had been discovered. It had likely been attacked by some sort of predator, and while it had escaped becoming a meal, its future was not looking much brighter.

X’unmei crouched down next to the rabbit, examining its wounds. If she was still with her tribe, most would have felt fortunate to have found such a quick and easy hunt to bring home for dinner, she thought. “Guess I was never a good Lynx, huh?” she murmured to herself, reaching forward to very carefully scoop the rabbit up into her hands and cupping it in her palms, careful not to cause the creature any extra discomfort or allow it to nip at her. Fortunately, the rabbit did not struggle, apparently resigning itself to its fate, be it death or salvation.

The Miqo’te closed her eyes for a moment to focus, gathering the aether from around herself before channeling it toward the rabbit’s mangled leg, slowly mending the bone back in place and closing the wound before her eyes reopened and the soft light that had been glowing around her hands disappeared. The rabbit was still for a moment, gauging its injuries and the danger of the situation. Slowly, she lowered her hands down to the ground, and rabbit righted itself and hopped down onto the dirt.

The rabbit lingered for a moment, dark eyes studying its savior in some confusion before it turned and quickly fled, hopping off through the brush and disappearing into the forest. Mei stood up slowly, dusting herself off as she continued to gaze in the direction the bunny had disappeared. “Don’t get yerself caught, poor li’l thing,” she quietly bade. 

( @which-can-eternal-lie )

The Dark Prophecy:

So I got another list of stuff for you since I just finished Rick’s new book. And I am SHOOK. Jesus freaking Christ. And SOO many CAMEOS ITS AMAZING. 10/10 would recommend guys. Now for your viewing pleasure- here’s The Dark Prophecy:

- Apollo talking shit about Hera’s liquorice and throwing shade
- “Hey, you two! No ancient dialects. Spanish or English please. Or Machine.”
- Leo calling Calypso babe omg Caleo <3
- LEONIDAS !!!!!!!!
- Hephaestus insulted Ares’ bellbottoms and caused a nuclear meltdown. That’s it. Those are the Olympians.\
- Like any decent god, demigod or engineer, Leo Valdez refused to be stopped by the laws of physics
- freaky ass blemmyae
- Hijo
- Leo being short is canon YESSS
- Lester most worthless of teens oh my god
- AWESOME sentient building!!
- “I’ll be hexed” is my new fav expressionnnnn
- All these people whose names ended with o suddenly made me feel like my brand was being diluted. DEAD
- The Magic 8 Ball struck me as a very shady form of divination—more like a Hermes game of chance than an Oracle worthy of me.
- “We’ve been aging together ever since. Very happily.”
- What did he do with Georgina?” IS GEORGINA MEG?!
- “Hey, abuelita,” Leo said. “All da cows love Leo.” He grinned at me. “And these cows are red, man. Like… bright red.”
- When I am a god again, I will make a constellation out of you. I will call it the Small Exploding Latino.”
- We get Festus back, then we look up this place on Google Maps and fly down there.”
- “Griffins? Uh… Hazel and Frank told me about griffins. They fought some in Alaska. Said they were like rabid hyenas with wings.” I MISS FRAZEL
- Leo muttered a curse in Spanish. “I keep thinking about my little bro Harley back at camp. If somebody tried to hurt him…”BIG BRO LEO
- The young woman sat on the molding ledge, playfully swinging her legs. Her braided auburn hair made a ponytail so long it wrapped around her neck like a scarf
- Leo caught her wrist. “Hold up.” From his tool belt he pulled a folding yardstick. He extended it and poked the chair’s seat cushion. A bear trap snapped shut, ripping through stuffing and fabric like an upholstery sharknado. LEO BEING BADASS WITH TRAPS
- Leo. “I’m new to this heroic-quest business. Shouldn’t there be a reward at the end? Not just more deadly quests?” “Nope,” Leo said. “This is pretty standard.”
- “How can you be so calm?” I demanded. “I am going on a dangerous quest tomorrow with your girlfriend!”
- “These tofu enchiladas are sabrosas. Gotta get the recipe from Josephine. My homegirl Piper would love them.” LEO AND PIPER IM CRYING OMG
- Why me? Sob. Sob. Sob.
- yes, Trophonius clearly got his knockout good looks from me. MODEST.
- Not just because I still found Commodus attractive after so many centuries, not just because we had a, er, complicated history, but also because he reminded me what I used to be like. MODEST.
- Marcus the blinged-out jackal boy, and Vortigern the barbarian. Ookay.
- His hand rested easily on the pommel of a sword. His face was a patchwork of scars. His clothes were casual—just jeans, a red-and-white T-shirt that read CORNHUSKERS, and a red bandana tied across his curly dark hair— OH MY GOD. LOST HERO CAMEO
- The emperor clapped with delight. “Oh, nice! That was very entertaining, Lityerses!” “Thank you, sire.” The Cornhusker. SHIT MAN.
- Leo and tater tots
- The sorceress muttered another Minoan curse, naming a part of Zeus’s body that I did not want to think about.
- “You’re a handsome idiot.”
- I gasped and collapsed. Through my half-lidded eyes, I watched Calypso turn on our enemies. “Now it is your turn, fools!” She began making the same rude gestures toward the Germani. The first one stopped. His face paled. He glanced at me lying on the ground, then turned and fled, barreling past his friend. The Germanus with the wounded foot hesitated. Judging from the hatred in his eyes, he wanted revenge for the missile weapon that had ruined his left boot. Calypso, undaunted, waved her arms and began to incant. Her tone made it sound as if she were raising the worst daimons from Tartarus, though her words, in ancient Phoenician, were actually a recipe for making pancakes. The wounded Germanus yelped and hobbled away, leaving a trail of smeared red prints behind him. CALYPSO YOU BADASS!
- Three passengers. I very much want to see Leo Valdez again. We have unfinished business.” “You know Leo?” Despite the danger we were in, I felt a small sense of relief. Finally, some villain wanted to kill Leo more than he wanted to kill me.
- Lityerses narrowed his eyes. “You’re not the same girl who was with him before. Her name was Piper. You wouldn’t happen to be Leo’s girlfriend?”
- Calypso nodded as if she’d come to a decision. “It’s going to take both of us. We’ll sing a duet. You have a decent voice.” “I have a…” My mouth was paralyzed from shock. Telling me, the god of music, that I had a decent voice was like telling Shaquille O’Neal he played decent offense, or telling Annie Oakley she was a decent shot.
- I blinked. “Zeus… singing?” I found the concept mildly horrifying. My father thundered. He punished. He scolded. He glowered like a champion. But he did not sing. Calypso’s eyes got a little dreamy. “In the palace at Mount Othrys, when he was Kronos’s cupbearer, Zeus used to entertain the court with songs.”
- It was a song older than empires—about two lovers separated and longing to be together.
- She would have toppled off the ledge if Leo hadn’t caught her. “Whoa, mamacita,” he said. “You okay?” She blinked sleepily. “I’m fine. Don’t fuss. And don’t call me—” She crumpled against Leo, who struggled to keep her upright. He glared at me. “What did you do to her?”
- Leo wagged a finger at Britomartis. “You’re lucky these ladies are such bosses.
- He decided to liberate a teal plastic pedal boat, and insisted we call him the Dread Pirate Valdez. (Meg loved this. I refused.)
- “We’ll get Peaches back,” I promised her. “Yeah, chica,” Leo agreed.
- “Hey.” Meg poked me in the back of the neck. “Remember what Percy told us? Never say stuff like We made it or That was easy. You’ll jinx us!” “My entire existence is a jinx.”
- He glanced over—no snappy comeback, no playful grin. “Just… Leo and Calypso’s Garage: Auto Repair and Mechanical Monsters.” “What?” “Something Cal and I used to joke about.”
- “Oh, come now,” I protested. “You like my singing.”
- a girl in gray camouflage paced like a jaguar. Her shoulder-length hair was stark white, though she looked no more than fifteen.
- a young girl in a lavender wool sweater and green jeans. Her tufts of brown hair looked like she’d cut them herself with gardening shears.
- I hoped Athena was watching, because WISDOM, BABY!
- Livia
- “What is this? Not nectar…” “No,” Thalia agreed. “It’s moonwater.”
- “I think you decided to help me because you like me.” The corner of Thalia’s mouth twitched. “What makes you say that?” “Oh, come now. The first time we met, you said I was hot. Don’t think I didn’t hear that comment.” I was gratified to see her face turn red.
- Emmie says we could live like normal young people in this city. Even go to the local high school.”
- At some point, I gotta reconnect with my other peeps: Jason, Piper, Hazel, Frank. Lotta people out there still want to punch me.”
- I wasn’t sure I’d heard her correctly. “Piano lessons? Now?” “Not now, dummy. But sometime. Can you teach me?”
- She’d been trying to convince Zeus to forgive me. That was so sweet!
- Shit Apollo’s tripping
- Oh my god this is horrifying
- Oh my GOD
- “Let the girl go,” I whimpered through the pain. “Kill me and let her go.” I surprised myself. These were not the last words I had planned.
- Oh my god peach babies
- Jimmy is GREAT
- Jimmy’s electricity was different—a more humid scent of ozone, a darker red hue to the flashes.
- Damnnnn Apollo!
- “No,” Leo corrected. “He Lityerses-ly flew out the window. Am I right? Those were some sweet moves, man.” Lit nodded. “Thanks.” The two bumped fists as if they hadn’t spent the last few days talking about how much they wanted to kill each other. They would have made fine Olympian gods.
- Cloven?! Cloven? GROVER!
- Buy one prophecy, get three free? That was a lot of lines.” “It was a sonnet,” I said, still in disbelief. “May the gods help us; it was a Shakespearean sonnet.”
- “I—I might be, Georgina. I don’t know.” “’ Kay.” She held up the thing she was holding—a figure made of pipe cleaners—and pressed it into my hands. “Made this for you. You can take it with you when you go away.”
- “Yeah. The changeling lord… that’s gotta be my homeboy Frank Zhang. And the Devil’s Mount, that’s Mount Diablo, right near the camp. I hate Mount Diablo. I fought Enchiladas there once.”
- “The Teumessian Fox? That’s the monster you’ve been hunting?”
- His strange bronze hockey-stick weapon was nowhere to be seen. So the mysterious Olujime was a pit fighter, an accountant, a magical warrior, and an ostrich whisperer. Somehow I was not surprised.
- uh… a Greek-Roman type, is he? I mean, he’s not a legacy of you guys, the Olympians.” “No,” I agreed. “He is from a different tradition and parentage entirely.” Thalia’s short spiky hair rippled in the wind, as if reacting to her uneasiness. “You mean from other gods.”
- We Olympians have always been used to living in close proximity to, ah… the competition.” “So you’re the sun god,” Thalia said. “But some other deity from some other culture is also the sun god?”
- “If you wish,” I said, “when I attain my godhood again, I will personally visit the Underworld. I will petition Hades to let your soul pass on to Elysium.” Agamethus offered me his 8 Ball.
- The dirt rolled away, revealing the form of a young man sleeping on his side. He looked about seventeen, perhaps younger. He wore a black collarless jacket over a green shirt, and jeans much too baggy for his legs. Over his curly hair flopped a red knit cap. A scruffy goatee clung to his chin.

Conclusion: SHOOK featuring Caleo

Man Eating Tree

Man-eating tree or carnivorus tree can refer to any of carioca legendary or cryptid carnivorous plants large enough to kill and consume a person or other large animal. The carnivorous plant with the largest known traps is probably Nepenthes rajah, which produces pitchers up to 41 cm (16 in) tall with a volume up to 3.5 litres (0.77 imp gal; 0.92 US gal). The pitcher of this species are designed to trap arthropods such as ants. However, the same bait may also attract rodents like the Summit rat (Rattus baluensis)and the Mountain treeshew (Tupaia montana) . Only very rarely will the rodents fall into the large pitchers of this species. Other large carnivorous plants that have similar properties include Nepenthes robcantleyi and Nepenthes attenboroughi.

The Nubian Tree

Phil Robinson, writing in Under the Punkah (1881), related the tales of his “uncle’s” travels throughout the world. He described a “man-eating tree” that was to be found in “Nubia”. In the tale, Robinson’s uncle describes the tree:

This awful plant, that rears its splendid death-shade in the central solitude of a Nubian fern forest, sickens by its unwholesome humours all vegetation from its immediate vicinity, and feeds upon the wild beasts that, in the terror of the chase, or the heat of noon, seek the thick shelter of its boughs ; upon the birds that, flitting across the open space, come within the charmed circle of its power, or innocently refresh themselves from the cups of its great waxen flowers ; upon even man himself when, an infrequent prey, the savage seeks its asylum in the storm, or turns from the harsh foot-wounding sword-grass of the glade, to pluck the wondrous fruit that hang plumb down among the wondrous foliage. And such fruit ! Glorious golden ovals, great honey drops, swelling by their own weight into pear-shaped translucencies. The foliage glistens with a strange dew, that all day long drips on to the ground below, nurturing a rank growth of grasses, which shoot up in places so high that their spikes of fierce blood-fed green show far up among the deep-tinted foliage of the terrible tree, and, like a jealous body-guard, keep concealed the fearful secret of the charnel-house within, and draw round the black roots of the murderous plant a decent screen of living green.

The story continues in describing how the tree captured and ate one of the uncle’s native companions, and how the uncle proceeded to shoot at the tree. When his ammunition was finally exhausted, the uncle continued his work using a knife to destroy the tree, as the tree fought back with its blood-sucking leaves, and entangling limbs.

The Vampire Vine

William Thomas Stead, editor of Review of Reviews, published a brief article that discussed a story purportedly found in Lucifer magazine, describing a plant in Nicaragua called by the natives the devil’s snare. This plant had the capability “to drain the blood of any living thing which comes within its death-dealing touch.” According to the article:

Mr. Dunstan, naturalist, who has recently returned from Central America, where he spent nearly two years in the study of the flora and the fauna of the country, relates the finding of a singular growth in one of the swamps which surround the great lakes of Nicaragua. He was engaged in hunting for botanical and entomological specimens, when he heard his dog cry out, as if in agony, from a distance. Running to the spot whence the animal’s cries came. Mr. Dunstan found him enveloped in a perfect network of what seemed to be a fine rope-like tissue of roots and fibres… The native servants who accompanied Mr. Dunstan manifested the greatest horror of the vine, which they call “the devil’s snare”, and were full of stories of its death-dealing powers. He was able to discover very little about the nature of the plant, owing to the difficulty of handling it, for its grasp can only be torn away with the loss of skin and even of flesh; but, as near as Mr. Dunstan could ascertain, its power of suction is contained in a number of infinitesimal mouths or little suckers, which, ordinarily closed, open for the reception of food. If the substance is animal, the blood is drawn off and the carcass or refuse then dropped.

The remains of Trooper Ronald Moore’s truck, Te Aroha, destroyed at the battle of Jebel Sherif, January 31, 1941. When the LRDG was ambushed at this site, Moore and his three men were in the truck when it was disabled; they continued to lay down fire as the rest of the patrol escaped before the truck caught fire and ammunition began to go off.
Moore and his three compatriots were alone and practically doomed, but they were determined to survive – even with shrapnel in the neck of Guardsman Easton, and Moore himself being wounded in the foot, and barefoot to boot. With almost no water and no food at all, their journey lasted for ten days before the Free French rescued them, one by one. Sadly, Scots Guard Easton (who had the neck wound) died shortly after he was given sweet tea by the French – his last words being “I take my tea without sugar.” Moore, the last to be picked up, was almost 335 kilometres away from the wreckage of Te Aroha, having walked all the way on a wounded foot without shoes. Easton was the first Scottish Guardsman to die in the North African Campaign.



Man-eating tree can refer to any of the variouslegendary carnivorous plants large enough to kill and consume a person or other large animal. The carnivorous plant with the largest known traps is probably Nepenthes rajah, which produces pitchers up to 41 cm (16 in) tall with a volume up to 3.5 litres (0.77 imp gal; 0.92 US gal).The pitcher of this species are designed to trap arthropods. However, the same bait may also attract rodents like thesummit rat (Rattus baluensis) and the Mountain treeshrew (Tupaia montana). Only very rarely will the rodents fall into the large pitchers of this species. Other large carnivorous plants that have similar properties include Nepenthes robcantleyi andNepenthes attenboroughi.

Man-eating tree

Depiction of a native being consumed by a ya-te-veo (“I see you”) carnivorous tree found in both Africa and Central America, from Sea and Land by J. W. Buel, 1887

GroupingCryptidRegionAfrica and Central AmericaHabitatAfrican and Central-American forests

The Madagascar tree

The earliest well-known report of a man-eating tree originated as a literary fabrication written by Edmund Spencer for the New York World. Spencer’s article first appeared in the daily edition of the New York World on 26 April 1874, and appeared again in the weekly edition of the newspaper two days later. In the article, a letter was published by a purported German explorer named “Karl Liche” (also spelled as Carl Liche in later accounts), who provided a report of encountering a sacrifice performed by the “Mkodo tribe” of Madagascar: This story was picked up by many other newspapers of the day, including theSouth Australian Register of 27 October 1874, where it gained even greater notoriety. Describing the tree, the account related:

The slender delicate palpi, with the fury of starved serpents, quivered a moment over her head, then as if instinct with demoniac intelligence fastened upon her in sudden coils round and round her neck and arms; then while her awful screams and yet more awful laughter rose wildly to be instantly strangled down again into a gurgling moan, the tendrils one after another, like great green serpents, with brutal energy and infernal rapidity, rose, retracted themselves, and wrapped her about in fold after fold, ever tightening with cruel swiftness and savage tenacity of anacondas fastening upon their prey.

The tree was given further publicity by Madagascar, Land of the Man-eating Tree, a book by Chase Osborn, who had been a Governor of Michigan. Osborn claimed that both the tribes and missionaries on Madagascar knew about the hideous tree, and also repeated the above Liche account.

In his 1955 book, Salamanders and other Wonders, science author Willy Ley determined that the Mkodo tribe, Carl Liche, and the Madagascar man-eating tree all appeared to be fabrications.

The Nubian tree

Phil Robinson, writing in Under the Punkah (1881), related the tales of his “uncle’s” travels throughout the world. He described a “man-eating tree” that was to be found in “Nubia”. In the tale, Robinson’s uncle describes the tree:

This awful plant, that rears its splendid death-shade in the central solitude of a Nubian fern forest, sickens by its unwholesome humours all vegetation from its immediate vicinity, and feeds upon the wild beasts that, in the terror of the chase, or the heat of noon, seek the thick shelter of its boughs ; upon the birds that, flitting across the open space, come within the charmed circle of its power, or innocently refresh themselves from the cups of its great waxen flowers ; upon even man himself when, an infrequent prey, the savage seeks its asylum in the storm, or turns from the harsh foot-wounding sword-grass of the glade, to pluck the wondrous fruit that hang plumb down among the wondrous foliage. And such fruit ! Glorious golden ovals, great honey drops, swelling by their own weight into pear-shaped translucencies. The foliage glistens with a strange dew, that all day long drips on to the ground below, nurturing a rank growth of grasses, which shoot up in places so high that their spikes of fierce blood-fed green show far up among the deep-tinted foliage of the terrible tree, and, like a jealous body-guard, keep concealed the fearful secret of the charnel-house within, and draw round the black roots of the murderous plant a decent screen of living green.

The story continues in describing how the tree captured and ate one of the uncle’s native companions, and how the uncle proceeded to shoot at the tree. When his ammunition was finally exhausted, the uncle continued his work using a knife to destroy the tree, as the tree fought back with its blood-sucking leaves, and entangling limbs.

The ya-te-veo

In J. W. Buel's Sea and Land (1887), the ya-te-veo(“I-see-you”) plant is described as being native to Africa and Central America, and having “stems” that resemble “many huge serpents in an angry discussion, occasionally darting from side to side as if striking at an imaginary foe,” while attempting to consume humans.

The vampire vine

William Thomas Stead, editor of Review of Reviews,published a brief article that discussed a story purportedly found in Lucifer magazine, describing a plant in Nicaragua called by the natives the devil’s snare. This plant had the capability “to drain the blood of any living thing which comes within its death-dealing touch.” According to the article:

Mr. Dunstan, naturalist, who has recently returned from Central America, where he spent nearly two years in the study of the flora and the fauna of the country, relates the finding of a singular growth in one of the swamps which surround the great lakes of Nicaragua. He was engaged in hunting for botanical and entomological specimens, when he heard his dog cry out, as if in agony, from a distance. Running to the spot whence the animal’s cries came. Mr. Dunstan found him enveloped in a perfect network of what seemed to be a fine rope-like tissue of roots and fibres… The native servants who accompanied Mr. Dunstan manifested the greatest horror of the vine, which they call “the devil’s snare”, and were full of stories of its death-dealing powers. He was able to discover very little about the nature of the plant, owing to the difficulty of handling it, for its grasp can only be torn away with the loss of skin and even of flesh; but, as near as Mr. Dunstan could ascertain, its power of suction is contained in a number of infinitesimal mouths or little suckers, which, ordinarily closed, open for the reception of food. If the substance is animal, the blood is drawn off and the carcass or refuse then dropped.

An investigation of Stead’s “review” determined no article was published in Lucifer magazine about such a subject, and the story in Review of Reviewsappeared to be a fabrication by the editor.


“The Purple Terror” (1899) by Fred M. White is a man-eating tree and the story was collected with the relevant section of Phil Robinson’s book, The Man-Eating Tree (1881), in Flora Curiosa: Cryptobotany, Mysterious Fungi, Sentient Trees, and Deadly Plants in Classic Science Fiction and Fantasy. This anthology also includes H. G. Wells’ “The Flowering of the Strange Orchid” (1894) about an orchid capable of consuming a human.

In Francis Stevens’ story “The Nightmare” (1917), the flora on the mysterious island includes man-eating plants.

Edward Gorey’s 1966 illustrated work The Evil Garden features hapless guests trapped in a garden, with some of its members attacked and eaten by, among other things, giant carnivorous plants.

Piers Anthony’s fantasy novels of Xanth (1977 onward) has stories of carnivorous “tangle trees” (or “tanglers”). The trees magically create easy, open paths leading to them; their tentacles then catch animals (and people) that approach too closely.

In the fantasy novel Beyond the Deepwoods (1998), the first story in Paul Stewart and Chris Riddell's The Edge Chronicles series, the protagonist Twig encounters a man-eating tree called a bloodoak. A parasitic symbiotic plant, known as the tarryvine, snares victims and then drags them to the bloodoak, where they are devoured.

In the fantasy adventure novel Life of Pi (2001), a shipwrecked boy lands on an island inhabited bymeerkats, but notices that every night all the animals climb atop the trees. He later discovers that the entire island is carnivorous.

In “The Sagebrush Kid”, a short story in Annie Proulx's Fine Just the Way It Is (2008), a childlessWyoming couple transfers their affections first to a piglet, then a chicken, and finally to a sagebrush they fancy has the appearance of a child. They tend and protect it, and even feed it bones and stray scraps of meat from their dinner table. Even after the couples’ deaths, the shrub - now grown to the height of a fair-sized tree - is accustomed to human attention, and meat. It consumes livestock, then soldiers, then a local medico, railroad men, surveyors, and most lately a botanist come to investigate its unusual height and luxuriance.

In the dystopian novel Shades of Grey 1: The Road to High Saffron (2009), the first book in Jasper Fforde's Shades of Grey series, carnivorous trees are mentioned.

In the Star Trek novel Planet of Judgment by Joe Haldeman, the flora on a planet includes a carnivorous plant capable of engulfing and digesting an adult human. After a crewman (named Hevelin) is attacked, the rest of the away team tries to cut him out of the plant, but is too late. The description of the aftermath reads “Hevelin’s body looked like a botched autopsy.”

In the 2005 film The Brothers Grimm, there are Man Eating Trees lurking in the Forest of Marbaden.


I’m A Mess Joji x Reader

Angsty request ~ Angsty Joji imagine where you argue bc of him getting jealous and end up breaking up but get back together? Thank you!!

requested by @twdgislife

Warnings: Angst, swearing, graphic kinda, drinking etc.

“Don’t leave please Joji it’s lies. They’re trying to ruin us can’t you see it?!”

“I’m leaving.”

That night was so painful, clearly from the booming headache wracking in my head. I drank so much, raided every crevice in my ruined apartment, I gotta get used to saying my now…given he left for good.

My knuckles were bruised from punching my door, tears dried on my cheeks as I sat in the middle of my living room, empty.

So fucking empty

Clock smashed, clothes thrown across the bedroom, bed sheets covered in puke and blood from my ankle. Carelessly, I had thrown photos all over the floor, the frames smashed on the floor like disturbed decorations. Eyes bags littered my face, sore and red lips from blood and screaming. Scratches prominent on my arms, I had hyperventilated and had no one to calm me down.

I gotta get used to that too.

A knock at the door brought me to my senses, I perked up and dragged myself to the battered door, splinters of wood from where I had punched that too. Running my fingers through my hair, I wiped my face with my hands and reluctantly opened the door.


“Hey…” I croaked, my sore throat clearly obvious. His smile died down after he took in the scene of ou-my apartment. Sighing, he walked past me and set down the white bag and called in Max and Chad.

“Jesus Christ, did he-”

“No he left before my hyperventilation started, I’ve trashed the place and haven’t been fucked to move from the sofa since 2am.” I spoke, brushing the creases of my jacket out. A faint buzz came from Max’s phone, a familiar name lit up.

“Where’d he go last night, is he at yours?” I asked, concerned about his wellbeing. He left me yes, and god it hurt for him to believe this bullshit, but I still cared of course.

“He left to get pissed up about ten minutes ago, we dropped him off on the way here.”

God that hurt.

“Why aren’t you with him, I’m fine.” I groaned, rather embarrassed about the state of myself and the apartment.

“Yeah, clearly.” Ian huffed, running his hand through his hair. I winced at the prodding of my food, a shard of glass cutting the heel. Brushing it off, I pondered at the things I could do forget. Until I thought about it a little harder, why not just do what I do best…drink.

“How you guys feel about getting pissed tonight? I don’t need some dumb counselling session right now I just wanna feel good.” I groaned, looking at my reflection in the toaster.


“I’ll go get a shower and I’ll get dressed and we can hit up a bar and get fucked.” I smiled, waving and closing my bedroom door behind me to escape into the shower. I never thought I needed a shower this bad till now, washing the blood and sweat off of my body relieved all the kinks in my back from sleeping on the wood floor of the living room. Scrubbing at my scalp, I soothed my headache to become more numbing.

“Don’t lie to me, you clearly like Ian just fucking leave.”

“Why would I? Baby I love you and you know this.”

Wincing, I shook my head and stepped out of the shower, drying my body and carefully dabbing the cuts and the wound on my foot. After debating what to wear, I picked out a burgundy dress, just resting on my lower thigh. It was shoulderless, long sleeved with a choker. I plastered my foot and tugged on some socks and my black, chunky heeled boots. Moments later, I dried my hair and tousled the curls and applied some makeup.

Before opening my bedroom door, I heard the murmurs of the boys conversing rather hushed.

“We can’t leave her like this, she’s a wreck she’s just covering it dude.”

“I don’t want her alone tonight, it might do her good.”

“True, just wish this didn’t fucking happen man…I’ll try and get a hold of him later maybe…”

Sighing, I opened my door slowly, applied a fake smile and grabbed a couple notes from my pot and slipped it into my purse.

“Let’s go lads!” I cheered, their cheers following. This was gonna be rough. Rough as the drive to the bar, they avoided all questions about last night’s incidents and spoke of new video ideas. Ten minutes passed and we finally made it to the rather popular bar.

“Shots!” Me and Max chimed, Ian giggled and found us a booth as we waited for Chad with the shots. Max went for a piss so it was me and Ian.

“Did it hurt…”

“Did what hurt Ian?”

“When he left, I didn’t wanna bring it up I just wanna know. He loves you so much I know he does-”

“If he did he wouldn’t of left. I get it, it’s not the first time I’ll just push through somehow…I don’t fucking know.”

“Guess who got shots, ya boy did!” Chad exclaimed excitedly, I couldn’t help but chuckle and avoid the concerned look from Ian. Max bounced over with his phone in hand and a great big smile on his face.

“Smile boys!” He laughed, snapping a good photo and uploading it to Twitter, rambling about how good we looked and how were were the new NBA , the usual random shit. Max’s phone lit with a familiar number but I just ignored it.After chugging alcohol for about half hour with random conversations, Max and Chad bounced to the dance floor. I played with my empty glasses awkwardly, enjoying the loud music and the aesthetic of the bar.

Ian clearly was itching to join the boys.

“Go, enjoy yourself, somebody gotta look after our shit anyway.” I spoke softly.

Reluctantly, Ian ran to the boys and I smiled. My buzz cut off as the alcohol began attacking my mindset, it fucking hurt. Depressing noises from a cliché love song filled the bar.

I met you in the dark
You lit me up
You made me feel as though
I was enough
We danced the night away
We drank too much
I held your hair back when
You were throwing up

“I love you baby, so much.”

“I love you too-”

God that fucking killed, a dagger to the fucking stomach over and over. The memories of him, his beautiful chocolate eyes, the lines where he smiled, the feeling of his hand on mine, his chaotic humour and insane ideas. The way he’d wake me up at 4am with a coffee and a brand new idea for a video or a snippet of a song he was working on.

Then you smiled over your shoulder
For a minute, I was stone cold sober
I pulled you closer to my chest
And you asked me to stay over
I said, I already told ya
I think that you should get some rest

His crazy hair and the way it would stick up if he slept funny so he’d always lay flat with my head on his chest. His plump lips against my skin and the way they mold into that iconic smile, that led to a radiant laughter that could fill a stadium with cheering.

I got used to that smile.

I knew I loved you then
But you’d never know
Cause I played it cool when I was scared of letting go
I know I needed you

The second the boys met the booth, I bolted out of the bar, tears running down my cheeks as I clutched my phone to my chest. The music pounded as hard as my heart, it felt blood was gonna pour out of my ears.

Shakily, my hands typed in his name and I clicked ring.

Ring, ring, ring.


“I love you. I love you so fucking much please, I need you please It was all bullshit I need you. You don’t even need to love me back but you just need to know…I need you to know that I adore you so much. The rumours got to us It shouldn’t have please Joji I love you so much.”

He hung up.

I know I needed you
But I never showed
But I wanna stay with you
Until we’re grey and old
Just say you won’t let go
Just say you won’t let go

I heard sniffling from behind me.

There he stood. A deep blue hoodie covering a white tee, black jeans and white vans. His eyes were heavy with red circles. I pushed my phone into my pocket and he pulled me into his arms, I cried hard and his sobs trembled as he smoothed the top of my head, pressing a kiss to my hair.

“I’m so sorry I’m so sorry-”

He kissed me hard as tears covered our faces, salty trickles meeting and falling. God it fucking hurt but it was relieving at the same.

“I’m so sorry for everything.”

“We can work this out, all of this it’s all gonna be okay.”

I’m so in love with you
And I hope you know
Darling your love is more than worth its weight in gold

Choose Your Mistakes #18D

Part eighteen, route D, of the interactive fanfiction, Choose Your Mistakes. Please check the FAQ and the Setting Info if you haven’t already, and be sure to make your choice below.

You chose to look at the walls

Originally posted by winchester--bros-4-life

You decided to look around at the walls of the tunnels and cavern as your new companion continued to row gently. It was a nice break from all the running, even if you felt like you were on a haunted carnival ride. You grabbed the flashlight, idly wondering how much battery it might have, and shone it at the walls. The man rowing made no attempt to stop you.

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More than words - A Yousana AU. Chapter 1

Idea explained here

All the chapters here


There are five holiday breaks in Norway. During those breaks kids don’t have to go to school so even if for whatever reason you don’t celebrate those festivities you still don’t have class. That makes it a good chance to go somewhere else and relax, spend time with your family, maybe even make new friends.

Five holidays breaks that go along the year.

The summer break, the biggest of them all, starts on late June and ends on August. After that, the school year begins and it’s not until late September/early October when the autumn break comes, it only lasts a week but it’s something. Then Christmas arrives, 2 weeks without going to school, 2 weeks to relax. Just like autumn has its break, winter also has one, this one takes place on late February/early March and just like the previous season’s break it lasts a week. Then finally comes Easter, every April, kids, and also teenagers of course, have a free week.

As said before, these breaks give families the best chance to spend some time together, far away from the city.

For Yousef’s family that means going to the cabin in the woods. Every year, almost every holiday, they go there. The cabin in the woods is a pretty big house with four bedrooms, not that they need the four bedrooms, and two floors. Yousef always takes the room in the attic, he loves the views and the calm that comes with it. At first Yousef loved going to the cabin but as he grows up he starts to get bored, he rather spend his breaks back in Oslo with his friends. His family rents the house for the first month of summer, the autumn break, the second half of Christmas and the first 4 days of Easter. Someone would say that the Acar family are the best costumers for that cabin, but they aren’t actually the only ones who stay a big part of their year there.

Sana’s family started to rent that house for holiday breaks before Sana had even been born. As if they were taking turns with the Acar family, though they had never met and they wouldn’t for a really long time, the Bakkoush family would stay in that cabin during the second month of summer, the first week of Christmas, the winter break and finally the last 4 days of Easter. Sana had to fight a lot with her two brothers, Abdu and Elias, to let her take the attic room. Eventually she won the battle and the room was hers. She likes being there. She has never been a very social girl. Sure, she has friends but not as many as her brothers have. In fact, she has never taken any friend to the cabin, unlike her brothers who always have guests. That may be the reason why Sana starts to dread going to the cabin, she always feels alone there.


SUMMER 2011 (11 and 13 years old)

On the summer of 2011 as Yousef had been in that cabin for almost three weeks already, he was starting to get on his nerves. He kept pacing around the room trying to think about something entertaining to do. Of course, nothing came to his mind. He was about to give up when suddenly he tripped and almost fell. When he looked down to the floor to try to find out what had made him trip he realize that there was a loose slab. He kneeled to the floor and took the slab in his hands. In the spot it had left on the floor there was a gap, big enough to hide something. For a moment he got excited, what if someone had hid something there and he was about to discover it? But the hole was empty. He was a little disappointed at first but then an idea came to his mind. What if he was the one that would hide something there? But now the question was…what should he hide? It wasn’t like he had anything he wanted to get rid of. For 15 minutes he sat on the floor looking around the room trying to think about something good. His eyes stopped in the wooden wardrobe that had a broken door. He remembered how the first time he got there that summer, three weeks ago, as he was about to open the wardrobe, the door fell and hit him in the foot. In that moment he wished someone, a previous tenant, would’ve warned him. What if he did exactly that? What if he wrote a note for the next tenant warning them about the broken door, that was a good thing to do, right?

He stood up and grabbed a notebook and a pen.

“Hello there unknown person. If you’re reading this you’ve found the loose slab on the floor and just like me you’ve been curious enough to look in the hole hoping that you’d find something. Congratulations! You found me. Sorry if I’m not what you were waiting for. But I’m actually here with a good tip. Be careful when you open the wardrobe door. Unless it gets fixed after I leave next week (it’s July 2011, just in case you don’t see this until like a million years) if you try to open it too hard it’s going to fall on your feet and hurt you, trust me, it happened to me. I don’t really know what else to say, I’m actually feeling kind of stupid for writing this when no one is probably going to see it. I’ll feel like a complete dumbass when I get back here on autumn break and find this same piece of paper with no answer on it. Anyway, at least I’ve tried. Hope your stay here is more interesting than mine, but honestly, that wouldn’t be that difficult. Well, bye!”

He folded the paper and placed it in the hole. Then he took the slab and put it back in its place. Yousef knew that he probably wouldn’t get an answer, but at least now he had a reason to look forward to his next visit to the cabin.


Sana sighed, only three more days and she finally would be back in Oslo. Not that her life was that interesting back home, but at least she didn’t have to be in the same place for a month. She was sitting on the bed looking at the floor trying to think about something that would entertain her. From her room she could hear her brothers’ laughs, they had brought some friends and were playing outside. It wasn’t like they wouldn’t let her play with them. On the contrary, Abdu and Elias always asked her if she wanted to hang out with them, but the truth was that most of the time Sana just wanted to be left alone. As she was lost in her thoughts something caught her attention. There was a slab on the floor that seemed out of place. She hadn’t noticed it before. She frowned and kneeled down. Sana took the slab and found a hole under it, big enough to hide something there. Without even thinking about it, Sana introduced her hand in the hole and tried to find something. She was about to give up when her fingers touched a piece of paper. She took it and unfolded it eagerly. There was a message, a short message from a previous tenant, and they had been there almost at the same time as her –the note said it was July 2011 and now it was August-. She looked at her wounded foot as she read the part about the broken wardrobe door. It had fallen on her foot the first night there. As she finished reading she thought for a moment. Should she answer? What if it was a psychopath trying to get her attention? But it really didn’t look like it and she didn’t have to reveal any fact about herself to answer. Besides, that person had tried to warn her about the door, the polite thing to do was to say thanks, right?

She grabbed a pen from her desk and started writing.

“Hi! How are you? Well, I guess it doesn’t make much sense to ask you that. It’s August 2032 here, guess it’s been awhile since you wrote that letter…Kidding!! It’s August 2011 so just a few weeks after you left, I guess? I just wanted to thank you for the tip even though I read this note way too late. Me and my wounded foot say hi to you. Since you gave me a tip, I’ll give you another. I don’t know when you’ll be back, if you’ll be back, but a word of advice? Don’t sleep with your window opened in summer, the mosquitoes will kill you. I’ve been bitten so badly this summer and I only slept with my window opened one night. At least next time I’ll be here it’ll be during Christmas break so I won’t have to worry about them, right? Well, I guess that’s pretty much what I wanted to tell you. Thanks again for the tip and don’t feel stupid, you got your answer ;)”


AUTUMN 2011 (11 and 14 years old)

To say that Yousef had spent the rest of the summer thinking about the possibility of him finding an answer to his note when he’d come back to the cabin would be a lie. Being honest he had pretty much forgotten about it as soon as he had arrived back to Oslo.

But when September came and it was time for him to go back to the cabin he found himself thinking about that every day.

As soon as he stepped into the cabin that autumn the first thing he did was run to his bedroom and close the door. He sat on the floor and took a deep breath before taking the loose slab in his hands. His heart beat fast in his chest as he introduced his hand in the hole and picked up the paper. He unfolded and grinned widely when he saw that his handwriting wasn’t the only one in the paper, someone had answered.

He laughed a little while reading it and as soon as he ended he grabbed a pen and wrote an answer

“I’m sorry to hear about your foot! Hope it’s okay now. And yeah I got bitten by the mosquitoes too, guess our blood is really tasty hahah…Okay that was a lame joke. Sorry!. To be honest I wasn’t expecting a reply, I guess we all get bored here in the cabin, right? By the way, I’m also going to be back here for Christmas…hmmm…I wonder how that will work. Guess we’ll know in a few months. Thank you for your answer and I hope you have a good autumn!”


CHRISTMAS 2011 (12 and 14 years old)

“I’m always here the first week of Christmas. We don’t celebrate Christmas in my family so we like to get away from the city. But on the second week we go back and spend some time with the rest of the family. A word of advice? When you come here next week don’t sleep with your window opened, you won’t get bitten by mosquitoes but you will literally freeze. Oh and by the way, yeah your joke was kind of lame but I’ve heard them worse, so don’t worry”


“Oh, I see, I’m always here the second week of Christmas. It’s pretty much the same with my family but in reverse order. We spend the week with the family and then we come here for the second week and celebrate New Year’s Eve here, exciting…I know. And of course I won’t sleep with my window opened! It’s December, do you think I’m crazy??? Oh and thanks for being nice about the joke but you shouldn’t be that nice, you’ll make me think that it’s okay to say lame jokes and you’ll never hear the end of it. Happy New Year by the way! I guess this question doesn’t make much sense but…when do you come back?”


WINTER BREAK 2012  (12 and 14 years old)


Happy new year to you too!! I’m back here again! (it’s winter break, 2012) Well in that case I hate your lame jokes please don’t make one like that again! (jk, it wasn’t that bad). And hey, I was just trying to prevent you from getting frozen but okay…girl? Boy?…I just realized I don’t really know anything about you. Maybe you could tell me something, like your age for example? Please tell me you’re not a 40 years old man, that’d be creepy. I don’t want you to tell me your name though, I like the anonymous thing, it’s interesting and it feels safe, if you know what I mean. I’ll be back on the last four days of Easter, hope there’s an answer when I come back”


EASTER 2012  (12 and 14 years old)


“I’m not a 40 years old man!! I’m 38! Haha just kidding, another lame joke. I’m a 14 years old boy actually. And I agree with you with the anonymous thing, I think it’s better if we don’t know much about each other’s personal life, it’s more interesting this way. By the way I’m here for the first 4 days of Easter so I guess you’ll come back after I leave. It feels as if we were taking turns to be in the cabin hahah. Guess it was destiny that we would meet…well not meet, but talk.”


“Ufff, I feel a lot better now. I’m a 12 years old girl, yeah yeah, I’m a little kid whatever…I’m sure I’m more mature than you. I actually think that I saw your car leaving when I got here? A nice white car? You know what? Forget about it, we’re trying to be anonymous here, we can’t know which kind of car we have either…I guess? So I won’t be back until summer, will you be here like last year?? I pretty much come the same dates every year so I guess now you know when I’ll be here. What about you? Was this year an exception or is it the rule? And yes I guess destiny was trying to make us meet…write…whatever. I’ll read you on summer!”


Well this is the first chapter!! 

I really hope you’ve liked it

I’ll tag all the chapters with “more than words au” and I’ll also post it on ao3 in case someone prefers to read it there

Thank you so much for reading and I hope it wasn’t confusing with so many time jumps

[This fic was requested by @awesome-impala1967as well as one anonymous individual I believe, I hope you all enjoy it! Also if you guys are interested this fic was inspired by Distance by Christina Perri so if you guys wanted to listen to it I recommend you start listening when they mention someone named Tobias]

“So did I tell you this is fucking awesome? Because it is fucking awesome,” I was practically bouncing with the excitement of it all, but he was still in character so he just looked at me with mild irritation.
           "I met Will Smith, did you see that? I met The Prince, I am-“ he gave me a look before entering his trailer.
           "I can be chill, I can totally be- there’s Margot! Oh God, she is so beautiful!”
           I followed after him quickly, he was already seated with his laptop out and I took a calming breath.
           "Admittedly I have no chill when it comes to certain celebrities. You’d think I’d be used to all this by now but come on, it’s like Christmas!“
           "Quiet,” he growled.
           I rolled my eyes, flopping back on the small couch. Sneaking a glance over at him I smiled.


           I jumped, dropping my mug when there was a loud pound on the door. I cursed when it shattered and a piece of it cut my foot and shrieked when scalding coffee splashed on me. For fuck sakes! Looking at my watch I threw my hands up in the air, 3am. Who the fuck pounds on the door like that at 3… Oh. Of course, how could I have forgotten for a second?
           Limping over to the door I pulled it open. He wasn’t there though, but on the carpet just outside the door sat a little black gift box.

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French Kisses (Logan Howlett x Reader)

A/N: It’s my first time to write about Logan Howlett, i’ve got my eye on him after a while. I guess i’ve always had a crush on Wolverine <3 I hope you like this story.

Disclaimer:  Contains sexual tension and cursing

Gif’s not mine 

Word count: 1099

His stare burned right through you, his eyes locking with yours. A gasp escaped your lips as you felt his hand snake around your waist. He smirked and blew smoke upon your face. You coughed, it was a struggle to breathe. The smell of burnt cigar and liquor filled the entire room and you wished that you could vanish from that very spot.

Your chin was lifted up for a moment and his eyes continued searching yours. You looked away, trying to hide the windows of your soul from his eyes. You could feel his grip around your waist tighten, and he pulled you roughly towards him.

The move was sudden and your hands landed against his chest. His eyes didn’t leave yours, and he smiled, noticing the reaction that he was getting from you. He loved teasing you, and you were well-aware of that fact.

“Stop it, Logan,” You said, trying to stop the act altogether but you knew that he wouldn’t. You tried to stop him anyway.

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anonymous asked:

Aah i am so sorry, For the demonrat one it was, NB future s/o sells soul to demonrat in exchange for a friend/saftey because some circumstances making them incredibly wanted by many even though they are inocent. But then DemonRat finds he doesn't need the Deal to be with them anymore because he surprsed himself with seeing then as more then just a meal?

This was another request I got before I started the halloween event. I figured why not get it done and posted now since it fits the theme.


Part 1 of 2

Demon Junkrat x Non Binary Reader

Word Count: 787
Content Warning: Blood

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#5 | Reckless | Alexander x Reader

A/N: Hello! This is for the anon that requested the A.Ham angst with fluff ending. I decided to make it into two parts because I thought it was too long. AND OMIGOSH I HAVE A STORY TO TELL. I FOUND A GUY. KINIKILIG AKOOOOO. *cough* Yeah, anyways, you’ll know all about it in my next imagine with Philip Hamilton. Stay tuned!

Warnings: Mentions of war, description of wounds

Part Two


There was a reason you weren’t head nurse.

The zealousness of your heart to heal these bloodied men fighting for freedom all went down the drain at the sight of a thread and needle.

Stitches. Painful, inhumane stitches.

You wince at the sight of thread going inside flesh. A ghostly pain went across your chest as you imagined the sharp sensation going through you as well.

Theresa, a fellow nurse, passed by you in a flurry. The metal instruments clacked loudly in her tray at her quick pace.

“Will someone help me assist stitching up the three newcomers?” Theresa’s booming voice reached your eardrums.

A standby nurse nudged you in Theresa’s direction. And it happened that Theresa had to notice you first.

“(Y/N)! Don’t stand there and watch! Lead these men in separate cots, deal with one of them after.”

You walked stiffly to the men’s general direction. The prospect of you having to patch them up made you tremble.

Focus, (Y/N), you think to yourself. These men need your help. Don’t be a coward. You signed up for this and now you have to deal with it.

With newfound vigor, you helped the men into separate cots. You handled them with extra caution, their faces contorting in pain with every step.

After leading the last man into a vacant spot, you assessed the man from head to toe. Blood was splattered in patches, some were probably not his. His right cheek was badly bruised. Half of his uniform sleeve was ripped to shreds. The arm under it had a jagged slice, a dagger wound, almost half a foot in length.

Your mouth stretched into a firm line. That would be a large stitch indeed.

Wordlessly, you began cleaning the minor wounds around his face. You mumbled apologies everytime the soldier winced.

When the time came to finally stitch the large wound in his arm, your hands trembled. You almost dropped the needle in fright.

“I-I’ll be stitching up your arm,” you stammer, “It’ll hurt like hell, please bare with it.” The man chuckled lightly.

“I can take a stitch,” he said.

You nod and began to push the needle in his flesh. The man gave a yelp, making you flinch.

“I-I’m so s-sorry!” you cried, “I told you it would hurt. Here, muffle your screams with this.” You hand him a rag and he instantly bit it.

“I’ll try to make it quick,” you promise. You heaved a deep sigh and tried to calm yourself.

Just imagine you’re stitching a fabric.Yeah, just doing a practice stitch. You made this into a mantra as you steadily inserted the needle back and forth. Every once in a while, the man would grunt in pain but you tried to ignore it.

After seven minutes of pain and mumbled apologies, you finally finished patching him up.

“All done,” you say weakly, exhausted from the mental exertion.

“This is what I get for asking to be in the frontlines,” the man said gruffly. You stare at your patient and finally took a good glance at him.

His smooth, black hair was pulled back in a short pony, showing off his mesmerizing chocolate brown eyes. All his features were perfect, not even the slight swell on his right cheek can tarnish his face.

You gawk, momentarily realizing your patient was a handsome man.

“Thank you, nurse,” he trailed off, staring at you.

“(Y/N),” you smile shyly, a blush forming in your cheeks.

“Beautiful,” he breathed out. The blush in your cheeks began spreading to your entire face.

“I’m Alexander Hamilton, thank you for the wonderful job in patching me up.” He kissed your hand. You were positive that your face was about to explode. Is this even supposed to happen inside a medic tent?

“I’m, uh,” you stumble on your words, “I hope I don’t see you here again.”

Alexander’s face fell. You realized what your words had sound like.

“Oh! I mean, that you, you know, won’t be injured again. Hopefully, we meet in a different place? Like that, yeah, ” you say eloquently. Alexander chuckled, making you blush in embarrassment.

“Hopefully, then,” he teased, “I hope I don’t need to injure myself to keep seeing you.”

Did he just said what you think he said?

“What?” you asked, “Are you… Going to court me?”

“Definitely,” said Alexander, “Would you want to? I mean, I understand if you don’t-”

“I would love to.” You smile brightly. Alexander had this charm that pulled you towards him. Being with him just felt right.

Alexander never failed to make you blush.

Almost every day, a letter was sent to you. Nurses looked on with jealousy as you read its contents. It was hard enough to get a soldier to notice a nurse, much less to get courted.

Somehow, you were irked at Alexander’s letters. His eloquency and smoothness seemed fake. You reluctantly asked him about it when he had another unfortunate encounter and you had to patch him up again.

“There’s a reason why I write letters to you even if we’re just tents apart,” he said. “Contrary to what people think, I stumble on my words if I’m purposely charming someone.”

You raised a brow questioningly.

“If I put my words into paper, they sound better and I could take it back. Rewrite a new one. I’m sorry to make you doubt my words.” Alexander looked incredibly guilty.

“That’s fine,” you say softly, “I should also apologize for thinking your words were fake.” You pressed the ice bag to a bruise on his wrist.

Alexander yelped, “I don’t think you’re actually sorry. You stifled a laugh.

“Sorry.” You pressed the ice bag harder. Alexander’s breath hitched. He glared at you mockingly but his eyes softened at your amused smile.

He would go impossible measures to make you happy.


This is it, you think, the day you’ll fail your job. Your hands trembled non-stop.

A few nurses shriek as two cannons striked probably a few meters away from the medic tent. You remained stoic, keeping the panic internally.

Even if your face remained impassive, your entire body shook. The fear of Alexander dying was getting into your head. Multiple scenarios coursed through your mind, all having the same outcome. Alexander. Dead. Gravely injured.

I’m getting morbid, you sigh.

A trickle of wounded soldiers came in, some escorted by one or two men. It looked like a small parade of injuries. The degree of damage to their bodies worsening by the next.

One of the lesser injured soldier talked in low voices with Theresa. You strained to get a glimpse of their conversation but their voices were overlapped by pounding feet and clinking metals.

To hear them better, you assisted a wounded soldier a few feet away from them.

“-left in the battlefield,” the man was saying, “We had to leave them since there were too many redcoats surrounding us.”

“Some of these men are important, you say?” Theresa’s voice quivered.

“General Washington’s most trusted men,” he clarified, “One of them was his aide-de-camp, Hamilton, I think.”

The tweezers you held clattered to the ground.


A sudden weight began to fill in your chest. Your nightmares were coming true.

“-not supposed to be in the battlefield.” You made no move to pick up the fallen instrument. “Still, he needs to be rescued along with the other men. Deploy some nurses out in the battlefield. The British must have left already.”

Out of the corner of your eye, Theresa nodded at the soldier and left to gather those who would be sent out in the battlefield.

I need to get to Alexander, you think desperately. You haphazardly treated your patient’s wounds. Your mind was too clouded with worry to care about doing your job right. Alexander was your first priority.

Once the soldier was treated decently, you rushed to Theresa. She was talking to some nurses, probably those who would be sent into the battlefield.

“Theresa!” you called out. Fortunately, she turned around and addressed you.

“What is it, (Y/N)?” Theresa said, annoyed.

“Can I-” you gulp, suddenly feeling nervous because of the harsh stare of the head nurse. “Can I be sent to the frontlines?” you regained your posture.


You deflated a little but stood up straighter.

“I know my way through the battlefield,” you coerced. It was a half-truth. Alexander sometimes taught you of war plans and visualized the battlefield when you were curious.

“I can lead the nurses safely,” you continue. Theresa looked at you scrutinizingly. You pushed back your doubts and maintained the brave façade.

“Fine,” she relented.

You breathed out a relieved sigh.

“Do your best, (Y/N). Lives are at stake.” You nodded.

“I won’t let you down.”


Almost a dozen bodies were found to tend to. None of them were Alexander’s.

All of the nurses were occupied at the moment. They tended to them on the spot while you overlooked the bloody field.

A few redcoats were scattered. Dead. There some that were difficult to identify. Every body that you passed that weren’t Alexander filled you with dread.

What if the British took his body as a spoil of war? What if he was one of those bodies mangled beyond identification?

What if?

“(Y/N).” You turned to the voice and almost dropped your medic kit.

“Alexander?” you gasp, horrified.

His blue coat was tattered almost entirely. He draped it over in one shoulder to hide the dagger wound you stitched. The wound had reopened.

It was the least of your worries though. His face was drained of color and his hair was matted with dried blood. You didn’t want to think whose blood it was.

“(Y/N),” Alexander repeated, walking towards you.

“Stop!” Alexander looked startled at your outburst.

“Don’t move, you’re too wounded.” You made your way to him and made him kneel down.

“What happened?” you whisper, dabbing a damp cloth on his face.

“I went to the British camp,” he narrated, “There’s something Mr. Washington needed. A map that showed British camps.”

“So you stole that?” Your lips steadied into a thin line.

“Yes.” He winced as you pressed the cloth harder than necessary.

“You are so stupid, do you know that?” you sigh. You started applying ointment on the parts that were bruising.

“It’s for the war. For America.” You snort a little.

“You can shove your over-patriotism up your ass,” you mutter bitterly. Alexander smiled sadly.

“I’m sorry for worrying you (Y/N),” he apologized.

“It’s not about worrying me, Alexander,” you said exasperatedly. “It’s about you risking your life! I can’t have you running around and fighting like you have nothing to lose. You do have something to lose, that’s me, Alexander! There’s a reason why Washington made you stay as an aide-de-camp with Laur-”

“You were the one that pushed Washington to make me stay behind?” Alexander interrupted.

“Who else?” you scoff.

“Why would you do that?” Alexander sounded hurt.

“I can’t lose you, Alexander. I lost everyone to war already. Why do you think I became a nurse for the war?” Your voice started to crack.

Alexander casted his eyes down. “I did not realize that,” he said lowly. “How much pain I caused you, all for my ambitions.”

You opened your mouth to speak but a gunshot made both of you flinch.

“British,” muttered Alexander, “They’re probably coming after me.” He suddenly shoved a thick piece of paper toward you. “Keep this safe for me, (Y/N).”

Your eyes widened. “What?”

“The British are coming. Go.”

You adamantly shook your head. “Are you just going to throw away what I just said? You can’t die, Alexander!” you cried.

He took your hand into his and looked directly to your eyes. “I love you and I don’t want you to die.”

“I don’t want you to die too,” you say helplessly. Tears falling, unabashed.

“I love you too.”

You kiss him gently but with burning passion. Alexander kisses you back, using his uninjured hand to pull your face closer. Several gunshots made you push Alexander away. He looked at you seriously and said,

“Run, and don’t ever look back.”

And you did.

I felt like writing today.

Five years of climbing mountains and exploring this new world, and he finally wanted to find a home. Lee Adama didn’t know what home was, but looking for it alone while he slept in a crude lean-to under the stars sure as hell wasn’t getting him anywhere. So he came back to where they’d landed, to where he’d last seen his father. He couldn’t find home on his own; maybe he could find it where he’d left the rest of humanity.

He couldn’t find home, but apparently he was in the minority. There were children, babies, everywhere he looked from his vantage point on the hill, spilling out of rough cabins and shouting into the clear air where before there had only been savanna grass and herds of animals grazing.

Babies. We’re at war, and that woman wants us to worry about having babies. He could still hear his father’s voice ringing in his ears, full of disdain for the schoolteacher who dared to call herself President of the Twelve Colonies.

He could still see her tight, guarded smile as she stood in the CIC watching his father line up ships for water transfer, asking him for help with the military.

He should have known then that eventually Laura Roslin would get her way. Even as he bent over backwards to help her in the early days after the apocalypse, he hadn’t believed that she’d actually do it, actually save them all, but she had. In her own stubborn way, she had given humanity a fresh start.

Five years after he’d watched his father and Laura take off in a raptor, five years after he’d set out on his own, he was back on a green hillside, shielding his eyes from the sun, staring down at the new civilization that had sprung up in his absence. No cities, no technology, but a civilization nonetheless.

He recognized some of them – Ellen, still tall and lithe and easy in her skin, clutching Saul’s arm as he shouted and waved at the kids blocking his path. The oldest, grown taller and thinner since he’d last seen her, but he’d recognize that smile and those curls anywhere. Helo’s smile, Athena’s eyes. Hera was clearly the ringleader, the other children falling in line behind her as she teased the old Colonel. A few feet away, a tall, blonde woman bounced a baby on her hip as Gaius frakking Baltar kneeled to argue with a little boy who looked just as determined as he did.

Romo Lampkin was deep in conversation with a woman Lee knew he should recognize, but he didn’t. She wasn’t a Viper pilot; she wasn’t a refugee from Caprica. She wasn’t important to him, those days between the end of the worlds and the start of this one. Maybe that’s why he left, all those years ago. Humanity deserved a blank slate, but he knew he couldn’t give it to them. Maybe that’s why Kara left, and his father too. Some of them were just too rooted in the old ways to give them up completely.

Other faces were new. The primitive culture he’d witnessed when they’d landed on this rock, not quite as primitive anymore. They were communicating, and as the wind shifted, he picked up on the curious combination of words and clicks and sounds.

He wondered who taught them, without Laura. He remembered the white board with the numbers written in her careful, looping hand. If anyone had deserved a blank slate, it was her. He shifted the threadbare pack on his shoulder and made his way down the hill, determined to find out.


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