#implied mcd

[em0goose]

My V would let himself slowly die just so Johnny could live, no corporations involved. Just him fading out slowly in his bed, with Johnny trying to change his mind, saying over and over that he can't watch V do this because V is supposed to fight but he's not fighting. But V just looks at him and hums - this is on his own terms, surely Johnny can understand that.

[yes-my-paladin]

hi griffguts nation I'm back with a wip. drawing this time...(based on this painting of Anne Boleyn and Elizabeth I)

found out one of the last things Anne Boleyn did before she died was order more clothes for little Elizabeth I and I got saaaaaaddddd omgg. It gave me an idea for an AU where Griffith undergoes a similar false imprisonment, and begs asks the King to show mercy upon his daughter, and not leave her destitute as he was in his youth. He leaves every cent he can to Guts, who is his baby daddy daughter's godfather, and tries to leave them as well off as he can before his execution.

One of the few mercies they grant him is regular visits with his daughter, who is accompanied by Guts every time she visits. She asks when he's coming back, when they can all play again together, and it takes all the strength he can muster not to break down. He finds a way to make her forget her question, and once she is tired out and snuggled in his arms fast asleep, he feels a few tears fall onto her silver hair. Guts gathers them up in his arms and holds them silently until it's time to leave again, for good this time. The heavy lock of the prison door marks the last day as a family, and the White Hawk's last full day in this mortal realm...

[marginofthought]

Season 4 Sam giving birth in the panic room👀👀👀

I don't know what happened here:

" The survival rate of a baby born at 32 weeks was 95%. 

Sam knew this. 

Still he hadn’t actually expected to birth a living, squirming baby. 

Sam’s throat had already been screamed raw from the detox but when the withdrawal had induced his labor he found out he could scream some more. 

His body tried to adjust rapidly but it was no match to the way the fetus wanted to leave him just as the last of the demon blood dissipated from his veins, making him even weaker.

Sam was pretty sure he was stone cold sober by the time his own screams were replaced by wailing. 

He stared dumbstruck for a few long moments, looking down at the naked, squishy and screaming thing that was laying on the cot between his legs. 

It stared up at Sam and he flinched back instinctively, expecting black or even worse, yellow eyes looking up at him. 

He couldn’t comprehend that they weren’t. 

To be honest, he couldn’t understand anything that was going on right now. 

This hadn’t actually happened, it couldn’t have. He hadn’t ever really acknowledged that he was pregnant, much less told Dean about it, no way his brother would have believed it had been his baby.

The green eyes staring up at him, twisted up in an unhappy expression, were proof enough though.

Dumbly the only thought currently in Sam’s brain was that he was glad that he had been uncuffed, he was sure he couldn’t have gotten his pants off otherwise. 

The baby was wrinkly and covered with blood and gunk, blood was soaking the cot under Sam and he was pretty sure he was bleeding rather heavily from places he didn’t like thinking about. 

Another loud wail finally broke through and Sam scooped the baby up, the umbilical cord dragging through the blood and mucus. 

He looked at it for a moment before he pressed the baby to his chest, covering it’s back with a huge hand. It was small. Too small in Sam’s uneducated opinion. But eight weeks too few and demon blood as the main nutrition probably didn’t make for big babies. At 32 weeks the baby should be able to make it but it would need medical attention soon, milk and oxygen and other things Sam didn’t know.

The wailing got quieter and Sam all of a sudden felt like he was back in his body. He was shaking all over, so hard he was rattling the cot. Sam’s whole body hurt and he didn’t know whether it was from the detox or giving birth or maybe both. He was covered in blood and vomit and gunk. 

He didn’t know how long he had been down in the panic room, couldn’t tell you the time or date. His throat was burning and his mouth was dry but then again he didn’t know when he had drank anything last. 

Just as Sam thought he had gotten himself under control, he felt the urge to push again and his jaw opened in another scream as the placenta slid out of him. He was panting heavily and shaking worse by the time it was done, though there was nothing in the panic room to cut the umbilical cord with and he had no other choice but to leave it attached to the once again crying baby. 

He was pretty sure he was about to pass out but call it motherly instinct or something, he knew that if he did right now, the baby wouldn’t survive. If it didn’t get medical attention soon, it wouldn’t make it, no matter how much Sam wanted that all of a sudden.  

Sam forced his eyes back on the crying thing, the eyes screwed up as it cried into Sam’s t-shirt. Sam only saw a little bit of green when it relaxed for a millisecond just to get enough air to start screaming louder instead. 

His head was about to explode from the noise but he couldn’t stop his eyes from sliding shut. Sam wanted to cry too, share in the misery but there were no tears left for him to cry. He dumbly thought about calling out for Dean again but knew his brother would not come, hadn’t come any of the times he had begged for him in the past days and this wouldn’t be any different. 

“Shhh, shhh.” Sam mumbled against the wet hair on the thing’s head. His words were slurred but he doubted the baby cared. 

Sam felt his eyes close involuntarily and no matter how much he tried to, he couldn’t muster up the energy to open them agaín. 

“I’m sorry.” Sam cried. “I’m so sorry.” His head dipped down further, his lips brushing unintentionally against the baby in the mockery of a kiss. “You don’t deserve this.”

Sam could feel himself slipping away, a tear finally making its way down his cheek as he knew that no one would come for him or the baby and they wouldn't make it out of the panic room. "

[janetm74fics]

Febuwhump

DAY 27: left for dead Captain Scarlet Paul leaves Adam Svenson for dead.

Played

@febuwhump day 27.

~

Paul hated missions like this.

They had been caught by surprise, Spectrum Intelligence for once lacking in details.

Like the building that they had been sent into crawling with thugs. Crawling was an apt title, Paul thought as he crouched on one side of the open doorway, waiting for an opportunity to move.

Adam, on the other side, watched him carefully, waiting for the signal to go.

It was supposed to have been a simple fact-finding mission. Find out what was going on in the old, abandoned warehouse. Strange sounds at night had alerted Intelligence. Odd deliveries and spotty shielding had raised suspicions, but no one had managed to get anything concrete.

He poke his head out the doorway a fraction and immediately ducked back in.

There was no spray of bullets which gave him hope that their last volley had not been wasted. He signalled to Adam and got a nod in return and began to count down silently.

Three.

Two.

One.

Scarlet dove out the door and Blue followed, but a hail of bullets parted them as Paul dove one way and Adam the other. He tried to turn to follow Adam but the bullets kept going, and while Paul may well be technically bullet-proof he couldn’t afford to die yet. Not while Adam and he were separated.

A bullet whizzed past his ear and Paul was up and running. If he continued on this path he should, in theory, meet Adam at the other end of the building, so he kept on running.

It was only later, looking back, that Paul realised he was being corralled.

The end of the hallway opened into a large space, and as Paul burst through one door he saw Adam do likewise on his side. Paul made a beeline for his friend.

But he was too late.

Paul watched in horror as a bullet struck Adam in the chest, spinning him around so that he was now facing Paul. The bloom of red on his chest and the look of surprise on his friend’s face seared into his memory.

And the gunfire stopped. Sound ceased as Paul got to Adam. His friend’s eyes were closed and he wasn’t breathing. He felt for the carotid pulse…and there was nothing.

Paul hadn’t been there. It was his job to die. For them. He hadn’t been there to protect his best friend and Adam was gone.

A howl worked its way up from the pit of his stomach, forcing his head back as he screamed. With a last tender touch to Adam’s cheek Paul grabbed both their guns and set off.

He’d kill each and every one of them.

It didn’t take too long to find the remaining thugs in the building, but there were less than Scarlet anticipated. He leant against the doorframe for a moment before sighing deeply and heading back to where he’d left Adam.

It was time to take Adam home.

But when Paul got there the room was empty.

Paul froze in shock. Of all the things that could possibly happen this wasn’t even on his radar. How…why…what the hell could anyone want with Adam’s body.

Where Adam had fallen was a small tablet. Paul approached it but didn’t pick it up. His proximity must have triggered something as the screen lit up.

‘I believe you are missing someone.’ ‘What do you want?’

The camera panned and Paul’s legs gave way.

‘I can’t believe you left your colleague for dead.’

Adam was sat, bound to a chair and gagged. Clearly alive.

How had Paul got it so wrong?

[otobonns]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Chapters: 5/15 Fandom: Call of Duty (Video Games) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death Relationships: John "Soap" MacTavish/Simon "Ghost" Riley Characters: Simon "Ghost" Riley, John "Soap" MacTavish, John Price (Call of Duty), Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Alejandro Vargas, Rodolfo Parra Additional Tags: Implied/Referenced Character Death, Past Character Death, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Character Death In Dream, Pining Simon "Ghost" Riley, Pining John "Soap" MacTavish, Mutual Pining, Angst with a Happy Ending, hurt/ comfort, lots of other military battles, seriously there will be lots of military battles that all end poorly, War violence, Protective Simon "Ghost" Riley, Feral Simon "Ghost" Riley, Simon "Ghost" Riley Loves John "Soap" MacTavish, POV Simon "Ghost" Riley, They are switches because I said so, military banter, Eventual Smut, Wanted to write a PWP but ended up creating a slow burn, will add more tags as the story progresses, Gruesome deaths, detailed war violence, Asphyxiation, gun shot wounds, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, No Beta, We die like 09 Ghost, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Suicide, Referenced Abduction, Implied/Referenced Torture, eating rats, Assisted Suicide, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Toxic Gas, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, brief emotional cheating, Dry Humping, Smut, Frottage Summary:

Ever since the mission in Las Almas, Ghost has developed an alarming attachment to his sergeant, Soap. Even though it causes him to be in a state of existential dread, he still finds the familiarity enjoyable. That is, until his nightmares start to change from a past he recognizes to a past that is not even his. At least, he thinks it isn't. But no matter the doubt, he always recognizes his partner. Johnny.

With the nightmares haunting his evenings and the constant state of impending dread following him during the day, will Ghost be able to save not only Johnny, but himself as well?

[julek]

The sky is red with warning.

Jaskier burrows closer into Geralt’s neck.

“Is this how you imagined the world would end?” he whispers, his lips covered with soot, his voice cracked to hell.

Under him, he can feel Geralt shrug one shoulder. “I’ve lived through so many endings,” he murmurs, his voice like diamonds rolling around in dust. “After a while, I just stopped imagining.”

Jaskier hums. He’s tired, so, so tired, his body giving out slowly. He can almost feel the way it all tingles, like he’s been doused in fairy dust. “What was it the first time?”

Geralt’s arm wraps around him, and Jaskier can feel he’s pouring the last of his strength into the gesture. He would kiss him if he could.

“An eclipse,” Geralt says, his eyes closed. “A long one. People were losing their minds.”

“And you?”

“What about me?”

Jaskier clears his throat, even though it doesn’t help at all. “Did you lose your mind?”

“I was young,” Geralt says, almost like a plea. “And stupid.”

Jaskier’s lips press a kiss to the soft skin of Geralt’s neck. There’s sweat and grime there, and he relishes in the taste one last time. “You were scared,” he says gently. “I would have been, too.”

“Are you, now?”

“Scared?” Jaskier echoes. He closes his eyes, closes his hand around Geralt’s medallion. “I should be, but— somehow...”

“You’re not,” Geralt finishes for him.

Jaskier wants to tell him not to waste his breath, but, then again, it’ll all be over soon.

Lightning dances across the sky.

“I’m not.” He studies what he can see of Geralt’s face from where he’s laying beside him, his profile, painted red and black. He wishes he could trace the line of his jaw one last time. “I feel my time has come.”

“Our,” Geralt says.

“What?”

Geralt looks at him. “Our time.”

Jaskier grins, swallows down the cough that threatens to rise in his throat. “I always imagined you’d outlive me, you know. Was kind of counting on it.”

Geralt snorts. “Sorry to disappoint.”

“You could never,” Jaskier replies. “If anything, I’m glad it’s you.”

Geralt’s pupils are blown. All black, one sliver of gold. “I’m glad it’s you, too.”

Nearby, someone screams.

Jaskier can feel it approaching.

“It’s been a good life,” he murmurs, his voice nothing more than a rasp. “I’m happy it ends at your side.”

There’s a loud booming sound, somewhere.

Geralt smiles, blood slowly trickling down his split lip. “Sometimes endings are new beginnings.”

“Well, then,” Jaskier smiles up at the sky, feels a tear running down his cheek. “See you in the next one.”

[janetm74fics]

Can't Go Home

@febuwhump Day 14. Can’t Go Home. For @rachfielden-xo with Alan. Was going to do an Alan & Scott, but since it is the Squid’s day…Sorry!

Warnings for building collapse and earthquake and implied mcd.

With thanks to @the-original-sineater for reading.

~

He squeezed his eyes closed and dug the heels of his hands in. He’d turned the TV over and caught an image of someone swimming, and before he’d realised what he was watching he was crying and shaking again.

And then he’d thrown the remote through the TV screen.

Another payment to make, another renumeration.

He’d never be able to make recompense for what he had done, though. He’d never be able to face them.

He’d never be able to go home.

And for the umpteen night in a row Alan cried himself to sleep.

‘John, report on the last building.’

‘Building is currently stable, one life sign.’

‘FAB. Alan, Gordon, how’s your rescue going?’

‘Alan’s holding the wall fine, I’m just about to reach the last victim.’

‘FAB, Gordon. Virgil?’

‘Just bringing out the last person now, Scott.’

‘Ok. I’m in the same position. Virgil, drop your person off and I’ll meet you at the last building.’

‘But Scott, I can go!’

‘Negative, Alan. Gordon needs you to hold that wall firm until he’s out.’

‘But Scott…’

‘You have your orders. One out.’

Alan fumed. Everyone was rescuing someone except for him. Why on earth was he just holding a wall when there was someone who needed rescuing and he was free? The pod could be programmed to hold still without him.

As he fumed silently John yelled.

‘Aftershock!’

The vibrations were not that bad, not really, and Alan listened as John filled Scott in. That last building was becoming unstable, but both his older brothers were nearly back to the triage base and Gordon had managed to reach the person and protect them while the shock hit.

Blow it, he was going. Setting the pod to hold, Alan dashed out. He could be there and out before Scott and Virgil arrived.

He ran across to the building and up the stairs. He’d barely made the stairs before both John and Scott were yelling at him, but Alan ignored them to help the woman he found with the cupboard on her leg.

He’d just got it clear when John’s voice cut through everything, freezing him.

‘Aftershock!’

This one was bigger. The building shook and Alan threw himself over the woman. Nothing hit them, and it was with relief he stood up. The building was far more secure than he had thought.

His three older brothers were shouting, but once more he ignored them, helping the lady up and out. It was as he exited the building that the full impact of what had happened hit him.

The building that Alan was in may not have been damaged, but the building he should have been holding up was no longer standing. The pod was on its’ side.

And Gordon was nowhere to be seen.

It was then that Alan realised that his brothers weren’t shouting at him. They were calling for Gordon. Virgil and Scott were already there, tearing through the rubble.

There was no answer.

The building was flat.

Alan was an experienced first responder. He’d pulled bodies from buildings that had more substance to them than this one. He walked the woman over to the triage area on automatic.

He’d disobeyed an order.

He’d disobeyed an order and killed his brother.

He’d killed his brother.

He turned and threw up.

‘Alan? Alan! Al, we need you!’

Scott’s voice was harsh and rasping, the effort he was expending clear to hear. But Alan couldn’t move. It was like his blood had turned to ice. John joined in calling him, and still he stood there, not replying but watching the frantic efforts of his brothers and some of the other rescue teams moving rubble to reach his best friend.

It felt like forever, but eventually a shout went up and Alan knew Gordon had been found. He stumbled forward a step at the news only to freeze as Virgil’s voice bellowed.

‘He’s not breathing! I need a Defib here!’

But it was the sound of Scott counting that broke him.

‘1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6…’

He tore off his helmet and ran, discarding bits of uniform until he was in his shorts and t-shirt. Heedless of where he was heading, he just needed to get away.

His brother was dead and it was all his fault.

He couldn’t face seeing Virgil, that sad look he would have.

He couldn’t face the logic from his space brother.

He couldn’t face the disappointment from his hero, from Scott.

Alan ran.

[justhereforeskel]

Prompt - Recovery for @witcher-bows-and-arrows

The road to recovery after losing a lover is hard 💜🐺 o(TヘTo)

I PROMISE IT'S ALL SM*T AND FLUFF FROM HERE ON OUT o(*￣▽￣*)o

...for real this time