Didn't see any Writober prompts lists up in the tag yet so I figured I'd just whip one up myself so people can get to cracking and prepare!
Feel free to tackle and use these however you wish. If you do use it, please tag me! I want to see what everyone writes! :D Be it fandom-related or OC stuff.
Also please reblog and share this around so your followers can see! Spread the word! Spoopy month isn't just for art prompts! >:3 This one is alllll ours.
Though as a side note if you wish to utilize this as an art prompts list, have at it! :3c Just be sure to tag me still! I'm a slut for art.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Fandom: Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (Cartoon 2018)
Relationships: Donatello & Leonardo (TMNT), Agent John Bishop & Leonardo (TMNT)
Characters: Leonardo (TMNT), Agent John Bishop (TMNT), Donatello (TMNT), Background & Cameo Characters
Additional Tags: Kidnapping, Dehumanization, Past Character Death, (in the bad future), Amputation, Blood and Injury, implied Self-Surgery, Agent John Bishop Being an Asshole (TMNT), Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending, Unbetaed we die like my last braincell, Writober 2023, Prompt: Stump, Bad Things Happen Bingo, Prompt: Self-surgery
Summary:
Two years after the almost end of the world, life feels good again. Sadly, the universe is not done with Leo quite yet.
(Or, Leonardo heals, gets kidnapped, and learns that some things just have a way to come back and haunt you when you least expect it. Not necessarily in that order.)
[Sequel to "I bend the definition of faith"]
Nothing grows overnight, that much is most certainty true for most things in this world.
Plants, depending on what they are and their living conditions, may take from a few weeks to a full year to bear anything resembling a fruit, and in the same way, some people’s relationships bloom fast, while other’s take their time.
Noah was a point of interest for her pretty much as soon as he came to know him. When she asked around, everyone said he was a lonely kid that was always surrounded by magpies, chasing away crows from the school grounds, talking to himself, superb at chemistry and physics, but incredibly messy when it came down to work on anything.
She approached him, and it hit her pretty early on that, when it came to relationships, he was slow.
It took him several days to relax around her, and to let her know more about Apollo, and magpies in general; he seemed as reliable about them as she was about the fungi and herbs around the forest, knowledgable and trustworthy when it came to this point of interest.
Noah was slow when it came to rely on other people, but she was glad she was being given the chance to know someone so interesting, even if it was at a slow pace.
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Summary: After endless years of waiting, Alistair Shepard wakes up to the scratchy feeling he's been waiting for. Fucking finally.
---
Beep beep beep…
Ugh…
Alistair’s hand shot out from under his blanket to where his omni-tool was resting on his bedside table. Once it smacked down, the sounds stopped. However, he was now awake, and that was a tragedy as he rolled onto his side to try and block out the sun.
Could he skip class?
…
No, he couldn’t.
With a yawn, Alistair sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes. It was sometime after 7 AM, and his classes started at 9. That gave him time to shuffle around his apartment and warm up his prosthetics for a long day of sitting on his ass and taking notes, which he needed. Nobody wanted stiff prosthetics in the middle of a long lecture.
Weird how he used to run around in armor and shoot things… but no, sitting in class was a whole other level of difficulty.
It took him a few minutes to wake up enough to stand. Still yawning, he made his way to the bathroom to shower and start his day. The nice thing about no longer being on a military ship was that the water was hot. That alone made him glad he retired, apart from the whole not having to shoot people thing. That was a nice bonus too.
“Ugh… what classes do I have today?” The hot water massaged his sore muscles as he stood there under the hot water, trying to wake up his brain. “I think I have anatomy lab… great…”
His body was already sore at the thought, but it didn’t matter. If he had wanted an easy retirement, then he shouldn’t have signed up for med school when he could stand. This was his burden to bear, so all he cold do was grin and grind through it.
At least he wasn’t being shot at anymore. He could not emphasize enough how much he enjoyed not getting shot at anymore. It was like the top five things that came from retirement if he was going to be completely honest.
Eventually, he got out of the shower and started to dry off. The hot water had done wonders to loosen up his stiff, battle-abused muscles, to the point he could survive his day of classes and labs. Maybe he wouldn’t even need to stretch during his lunch break…
…
One could hope, but no doubt he would probably have to jog around campus to loosen up after a morning of sitting.
“Oh well…” He sighed as he passed the towel over his face to dry it off. However, Alistair paused mid-dry, blinking in surprise. Something felt… off… when he tried to dry off his skin. It almost felt like it was catching on something.
Confused, Alistair dropped the tower and reached up to feel at his face. This brought another blink of surprise – there was something scratchy and rough covering his chin. His heart skipped a beat as he sprinted to the mirror, wiping it off with his human hand to clear it up.
A man with shower-reddened skin and mussed hair stared back at him, eyes wide. At first, he didn’t notice it, but then he began to pick out the details. There was red on his face, and it wasn’t because he had turned the shower up too high for his skin.
That… he was pretty sure that was stubble.
“Holy shit.” Alistair’s voice caught and cracked as the realization fell into place. Theoretically, he should’ve known this day would come. The doctor had told him that things like voice deepening and body hair growth would begin after some time on testosterone.
His body had been growing more hair – thanks, Dad, for those lovely genes – but his face hadn’t been part of that. Yet, there was the proof he needed as he rubbed his hand across his cheek. It was scratchy and coated in ginger stubble that could one day turn into a beard if he left it alone long enough.
It was finally happening.
In that moment, Alistair could only grin as he stared into the mirror. No doubt he looked ridiculous – his stubble was kind of patchy if he was going to be honest – but he didn’t care. It was proof the testosterone was finally working.
He had to show Bo.
---
Nights on Rannoch were cold, but it made sense – it was a desert planet.
Bo yawned as she stretched out after a long day of knocking heads together. She was glad to be home, curled up on the couch under a blanket as she waited for Tali to get home. She’d probably be home late again – being an admiral was busy work, even though the fleet had a home base now. With any luck, she’d come in by midnight.
She was such a hard worker… it was kind of sexy.
“Wonder if anything’s on TV…” Bo wasn’t a huge fan of quarian TV, which is why she had asked her brother to hack her omni-tool to get her stuff from the Citadel. Her screen might have been cracked, but it functioned. “Hell, I’ll take Forensic Files VII at this point.”
Lucky for her, FFVII was always available nearly anywhere in the galaxy. She was about to click on, but a message appeared on her screen that came from Earth. There was only one person she knew who lived there – and who often forgot the time difference.
“Is this another picture of Saren? Hope he bit something cool.” Bo clicked into the message. The photo took some time to download, but soon she had it projected on the screen of her omni-tool. “What the…”
It wasn’t a picture of a hamster. Instead, her brother was in front of the mirror taking a selfie like an early 21st century teenager. Hell, he was even holding up a peace sign as he beamed into the camera. Conveniently, he had forgotten to put his shirt on…
God, he was such a hipster.
“Doesn’t he have class to get…” Bo’s eyebrow cocked as she really looked at the photo. “Wait a second…”
She zoomed in, blinking in surprise. At first she hadn’t noticed it, but… her brother was looking kind of hairy. His chest had taken the brunt of it, but his face wasn’t far behind. There was a patch of stubble there, bright red and making him look like he had gotten sunburnt.
Also, he was finally developing an Adam’s apple.
“Somebody got hit by the puberty train.” Bo shook her head, a faint grin on her face as she typed out a brief message – nice peach fuzz, put a damn shirt on or save those kinds of pics for Mandibles - before sending. Then she settled back in on the couch to continue watching FF7. Maybe this time it wouldn’t be the husband…
Nah. It was always the husband.
---
Alistair was in a great mood to say the least as he finished getting ready for class. Since he didn’t own a razor, the stubble was staying on his face for the time being until he could deal with it. Maybe he would try growing a beard if it evened out… the possibilities were endless.
Who knew a bit of facial hair could lift his spirits about anatomy lab?
Before he left, a buzzing on his wrist told him Bo had gotten the picture. She had even sent him a message back, one that made him chuckle as he read it over. Maybe he should have put a shirt on first, but could you blame him? He had been excited.
“I’ll be more careful next time.” His voice cracked a little as he spoke – but even he could hear the shift was beginning. Before long it would settle into his new range and he wouldn’t sound like a teenager anymore. That too put a spring into his step as he locked the door to his apartment and set out for class.
It was a beautiful day, and he was starting to finally grow facial hair. Not even anatomy lab could get him down.
…
Ok, maybe it could a little… but he was still pretty happy. Maybe after class he could send Garrus a picture. His fiancé should see the progress, right?
The creature chased and turned in every corner they did, following right behind them even when they took different paths, as if it could catch them at any time but chose not to, deciding to enjoy the chase instead.
The shape of the creature was near impossible, like it could reshape itself around the hallways, crooks and ends of the library without missing a beat. Noah and Ivy tried their best to hide, but it always found them.
Noah ran and ducked every time he needed, wondering how to defeat the creature, getting more and more tired by the second, more in need of a break the creature was unwilling to give.
Ivy was more agile, looking like she was a natural dodger in every chance the creature had to attack. Her mind was less on how to defeat the creature and more so how to stop it from moving any further; she knew with Noah she could come up with a plan, but for that they had to stop running around like headless chickens.
She met her opening: A bookshelf she had almost knocked over earlier that week, she knew its legs were weak and could give in with a swift, well aimed hit. As soon as she reached it she pushed, dropping it in top of her chaser.
She jumped on top of the shelf, trying to add her weight to the book’s, hoping it would immobilize the creature.
Now trapped, the creature looked like it was made of dark noodles, almost like eels, trying to escape from its confines as its tentacles wiggled. Noah looked over in short-lived relief as the creature moved in vain.
Until the wood creaked beneath Ivy and the shelf split in half, pages and books flying through the air as she landed as swiftly as she could, closer to her ally.
They would need a lot more than an old bookshelf if they wanted anything close to a victory.
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A compilation of all 31 writing prompts for Writober 2023, all centred around a comic I'm currently working on with illustrator Riize, "Unkn
Hi! As promised, here's a PDF now available in my Ko-fi shop for "Pay what you want", so please if you can allow it, consider supporting me!
This PDF contains all 31 writober prompts, plus some background info on me and my co-author @riize516; this format also features art by her.
Please consider checking out our content and do look forward to our comic!
They stood frozen for a moment before the corpse in front of them.
Experience had taught them usually these creatures would fade into ash or crawl back into the dark once defeated, that they would get eaten by something bigger or run away, but this one… This one didn’t.
At first, they were unsure if the battle was truly over, grasping their weapons of choice tight, but after moments that slowly turned into minutes, it became obvious the body wouldn’t move or disappear.
They stared at the lifeless, gruesome corpse in front of them, its awful stillness almost threatening, as its life faded, but not its imponent presence. They admired, as its long legs and claws stood motionless, perfectly frozen in time, growing colder by the second.
With a little of reluctance, they changed the weapons they were yielding for shovels, and in an act that came almost from instinct, they started to prepare the ground that would become the creature’s last resting place.
Maybe it's a human thing, to prepare burials. It never once crossed their minds to let the body out to rot, and they certainly didn’t discuss the arrangements before looking for shovels; maybe from the outside this could also be seen as a strange, alien ritual to other creatures, the preparation of a tomb.
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Summary: Al's got a little angel and demon on his shoulder. Angel usually wins. Why does the demon sound like his sister, and why does it sometimes have good ideas?
(Post ME3)
---
Why they ever decided to make the Citadel cold, Alistair didn’t know. Someone had to be a sadist.
His limp was bad that day as he left work, shivering as he zipped his jacket up tighter. The sun cycle had shifted to early evening, and people milled about as they left the hospital. All he wanted to do was get home and sleep under his nice warm blanket and maybe take some pain meds.
Instead, he got an eyeful of a turian standing against the wall, waiting for him.
“Having a rough day, Al?” Garrus pushed away from the wall, offering his arm for his husband to live on. Alistair took it gladly, sighing as the weight lessened on his bad leg. There was nothing like a turian to help balance his weight… and it helped he was handsome.
He chuckled softly as they walked home arm in arm. “On top of dealing with a few teenagers adjusting to their new amps, I had to vaccinate krogan triplets. I don’t know who was more upset by it, the kids, or their dad.”
His money was on the dad. Krogan adults did NOT like needles. The kids were smaller and easier to bribe with candy to look away. Dad, not so much – he had nearly fainted at the sight of the needle.
Luckily, there was room for him on the floor.
“Almost forgot flu season was coming up.” Garrus let out a thoughtful note as they stopped at a red light. “Any chance I could stop by and get one?”
Alistair snorted as he nudged against the turian’s side. “Last I checked, you were a grown up and my age limit for patients is 21.”
“Oh, no one will notice if I double up and squeak at people. The receptionist likes me anyway.” His husband chuckled as the light turned green. “Besides, I trust you with needles. Adult doctors don’t give band aids with hamsters on them.”
Not that Garrus really needed a band aid – he had a carapace that was nothing compared to a needle. With turians, you had to aim for the sensitive places between the plates. One of them, the easiest one, was near the neck. Naturally, they hated when he tried to get a needle there.
That space was looking pretty vulnerable…
“Don’t do it, Alistair, you love him and he’s walking you home.”
The little angel he liked to imagine hanging out on his shoulder was whispering in his ear, reminding him of his vows of commitment and love. It was a strong voice, one he knew very well and had gotten him out of trouble plenty of times.
The problem was, there was another one.
“It be funny.” The little demon he liked to imagine on his other shoulder sounded like Bo who didn’t try to hide her accent. “Come on, you love the noise he makes.”
He did…
“Do unto others, Alistair.”
Angel was making a point though…
Alistair shook his head, letting the little angel and demon representations of his judgement fade into the background. They were close to home now, and he was happy to fish his keys out of his pocket so they could get in and get warm.
This time, the angel won.
---
“I don’t know why you’re so damn insistent on my son not enlisting with the Alliance to get his amp when he’s old enough. They’ve helped generations of biotics!”
They also came up with torture camps, but… he was an L3, so his knowledge was somewhat secondhand.
Alistair felt a vein throb in his forehead as he used his best blank stare at the woman in front of him. She had come in with her teenage son to hear the results of his testing. Just like he had thought, the boy’s biotics were starting to get stronger due to puberty. He was going to need an amp sooner rather than later.
“Mom, I don’t want to enlist, I want to go to art school…” the boy’s voice was still cracking as he muttered his protest quietly. “I told you that…”
The woman gave him a dirty look. “You come from a line of service, Sean. Besides, you need boot camp to toughen you up.’
Ugh… she was one of those.
Alistair did his best to keep his face neutral as he cleared his throat. “While the Alliance does provide amps, they do require 4 years of service. He would also have to wait 2 years for the implant, and by then his symptoms could get worse. I would highly recommend going through a civilian clinic, especially given Sean doesn’t seem to want to serve.”
His heart went out to the kid – he knew what it was like to be stuck between having to choose something for your health and your passion. It had derailed a decade of his life and literally put him in his grave.
Sure, he had kind of saved the universe… but fuck, he hadn’t had much of a choice.
Sean’s mother rounded on him – Sean winced in the background. “Do you have a problem with military service, doctor? You don’t exactly sound supportive of it.”
“Tell her you lost your fucking leg saving the universe so her son doesn’t have to fucking enlist.”
His consciousness was in the red at the moment – it was on the tip of his tongue to say the least. Usually, he was glad when people didn’t put the pieces together, but here was where it actually might have been useful.
Who knew testosterone was enough to make you a 22nd century Tony Hawk…
“She’s scared for her son and proud of her family’s military service. Push the fact that civilian procedures have improved since 2186.”
The angel was back, pleading their case. It wasn’t as fun as telling her to fuck off… but she was the parent of his patient. Alistair felt his shoulders dip – the little angel and demon went for a ride within his mind’s eye – and he sighed.
“No, ma’am. I served in the Alliance before medical school.” He paused. “But I had to wait nearly a decade to go to medical school, and I wouldn’t want that for Sean.”
He looked towards the boy. “What type of art are you interested in?”
“Sculpture.” Sean winced – common reaction to his system’s biotics battering his system. He needed the procedure sooner rather than later. “It’s hard to work when my brain keeps trying to evict my eyeballs.”
Oof, he remembered that… it had plagued him until he was 20 and nearly dying from a brain melt.
“It would be in your best interest to get the procedure as soon as possible.” He sighed. “Unfortunately, your symptoms are only going to get worse the older you get.”
Normally, Alistair didn’t like scaring patients. He found it worked better when they came in with open eyes. But facts were facts – his patient was his priority and getting him an amp was the most important thing.
He held out his omni-tool, transferring the details. “I’m sending a referral to the clinic I refer my patients to for implants.”
At least the woman in front of him didn’t argue. Thank the Lord for that. It quieted the angel and the demon, at least for the moment. He was glad for it as he worked on filling out the referral so his patient could continue sculpting.
Sometimes, it was good to be a doctor and have personal history with those brain aches. And once again, the angel had won for the good of everyone in the room.
---
That night, it was freezing cold.
Thanks to that, Alistair’s limp was even more pronounced as he turned off the bathroom light and returned to his bedroom. The time on his omni-tool said it was sometime after 2, which meant he had 5 hours left to sleep. He very much wanted to do that as he padded in the darkness, hand on the wall.
Inside, Garrus hadn’t woken up, but he had rolled in such a way that he had taken the blankets by force. Just looking at him made the man cold as he limped to his side of the bed, hopping up in the hopes it would wake his husband up.
No dice – he was dead to the world.
A tug to the blanket didn’t exactly do much – turians were heavy, especially when they were asleep. Even using his prosthetic didn’t do anything to help. The blanket was firmly trapped under his carapace, far from where he needed it around his body.
“You can get a blanket from the closet.”
His consciousness sounded annoyingly perky as he sat there, staring at Garrus in the dark. He could picture the little angel, hovering over his shoulder and reminding him how to be a good husband. There was another blanket in the closet… but his leg hurt and walking didn’t sound fun.
“His neck is exposed. Go for it.”
Demon-Bo was whispering in his ear, pointing to the spot between the plates on Garrus’ neck where there was sensitive skin. It was just wide enough to brush a finger against and get the full effect.
He was so tired…
“Don’t do it!”
The angel was fighting, but for once Alistair tuned him out. Instead, he reached out his right hand. In the dark, he brushed the freezing cold finger of his prosthetic between the space of Garrus’ plates, prodding the sensitive skin with a feather light touch.
Naturally, the turian rocketed awake, releasing the blanket as he suppressed a full body shiver.
“What the…” He glanced around, eyes wide. “What…”
Alistair responded by tugging the blanket away, leaving enough for his husband once he settled back down. “Blanket thief.”
Sometimes, the demon won. But it was for a good cause, so it reduced the red points a little by his account.
Next to him, Garrus shook his head as he wrapped his arms around his husband and pulled him close. “You could’ve asked.”
“You’ve slept like you’re dead since 2186.” Alistair snorted as he cuddled closer to the turian, making sure his prosthetics were covered with blanket. “Someone’s going soft, babe.”
“And someone’s picking up red in his ledger.” Garrus yawned and nestled his mandibles against his husband’s shoulder. It wasn’t going to take him long to fall back asleep – probably a couple minutes. “So much for being a boy scout.”
The human chuckled as he closed his eyes and felt the turian’s heart against his back. “All’s fair in blankets and war.”
He was pretty sure that was how the saying went… but it was late and he didn’t really care. In the morning they could joke about his surprise attack and how he had disappointed the little angel on his shoulder, but that was for when the sun cycle was back to bright and shiny.
Until then… he was listening to demon-Bo and getting some sleep. He had one hell of a schedule in the morning.
