Tiny Dynnie

Tiny comm for Dynnie

Big Snoot Boop

Colored sketch for Beastclaw141 feat Dynnie

Dynnie YCH Stickers

YCH stickers for Dynnie

[Flashing Gif] 'Cute' Dynnie

A very cute icon for Dynnie

Wuv Dynnie

Wuv icon for Dynnie

[gif] Hyper Dynnie

Hyper icon for Dynnie

First date?

Dylan doesn’t see the point of going anywhere too extravagant, despite Zoe’s best efforts to persuade him to take Connie somewhere really special. 

Finally he caves and books a table at the most absurdly overpriced restaurant he can find.

That’s when Connie invites him over to hers where she presents him with a humble home cooked meal, no silly candles, just good food, good wine, and Chopin.

Name of their first kid?

Eve

Fave show they binge watch together?

Time Team

Their typical Saturday night?

If neither of them are on call, Dylan usually does crosswords while Connie reads medical journals. 

Who’s top/Who’s bottom?

Dylan is on top. Connie trusts him and besides, he should put the effort in.

Their wedding day plans?

There are only six people present. Connie, Dylan, the celebrant, Grace, Elliot Hope and Zoe Hanna. Jac Naylor was invited but she only turns up just as they are saying “I do” and watches discreetly from the back with a smirk on her lips. 

Bday gifts they give each other?

Dylan always agonizes over what to get her and no matter what it is, when she opens it his excuse is always “I panicked.”

Connie always buys him first edition books of poets and philosophers and even though it happens every year for the rest of their lives he is always so stunned and touched he cries. 

Their couple song?

There’s a Kind of Hush - Herman’s Hermits

A joint tattoo they would get?

They each get one half of a heart. Beneath Dylan’s half is the word “Nothing”Beneath Connie’s half is the word “Less”

Their idea of a perfect weekend away?

They both actually enjoy hiking and challenging themselves. They do that.

What they do when they’re drunk?

Dylan makes Connie laugh by doing impressions of the staff, because he’s terrible at impressions and hates people. 

Dyn shuffled back into camp with tears falling steadily from her eyes. She sniffled, her face reddened, puffy and stained with dirt in patches. She moved with a mechanical manner to the pot of water she had previously been using as washing and put it on the hook above the embers of a their fire.

If she stopped moving then she'd just curl up and not move. Not now. Not after Aetlution had- She halted her thoughts. Vini needed her. Brutus needed her. Both were hurt. Both needed help. She had to be there to make sure neither one got worse off or died.

So she shuffled around the camp, sniffling and rubbing at her eyes as she wordlessly gathered up the linens to make bandages, the gut string, the needle and knife. She grabbed off willow bark from a nearby log, it was used for something.. tea.. it was helpful. Not that she could remember how or why, but she poured hot water over it into a tin cup and set it aside.

The adrenaline drained out of his system slowly, replaced in ebbing pulses with the pain. The knives had been sharp, and while they wept freely, it was the barb in his chest that he dreaded pulling out. As he settled beside the fire, he watched his wife quietly, patting a thigh to call over his hound who was limping near as bad as he was. “What a little bastard, huh Brutus…?” He muttered, scratching behind one of the beasts ears and looking at that tired grey muzzle with a softening in his own gaze. “That’s alright, bud… We’ll both be okay. We’ll all be okay.”

The young woman settled down beside her husband with a flop, dragging the items closer to her on the bedroll by the fire. Her chest constricted as she eyed the damage, her shaking hands reaching for the clean linen as she picked up a ripped up square and dipped it in the herb infused water. She carefully started to clean off the blood around the cuts covered in dirt and sweat. Her hands shaking, her eyes blurring with tears as she did so.

Yet she kept working. She had had too much practice to not do so. It was nearly automatic, at the sight of blood she worked to clean it up. Wordlessly she pressed a chunk of linen against the arrow wound, reaching for her husband's hand to hold pressure against it while she worked on the lesser injuries.

When the linen piece got too dirty she dipped it, rinsed, or got a new one and bandaged the wound. The worst of them earned a stitch or two with the needle and gut. Until all that was left was the arrow wound in both hound and man.

She stared, her lips trembling as she dropped the linen she had been holding into the hot water and pressed a blood stained hand against her mouth. A choked, pained sound escaped her then, fresh tears falling again.

“I'm sorry.”

Carefully he followed whatever motions habit dictated. They were practiced at this, after all. With hand holding bandage in place, he waited until the calm rippled and threatened to break until looking quietly up at her and breathing, “You didn’t know, Cyndyn. This isn’t your fault.” Forcing a smile to his lips, he gently reached to tilt up her chin so that she could not hide behind locks of gold, “You understand?”

His gentle touch broke whatever had been keeping the sobs lodged in her throat because a choked, strangled noise escaped her as he forced a smile and tilted her chin back. She began to cry again, her eyes losing focus on him as her vision swam with tears.

Like a careful gardener, he had plucked her from the rose bush and left her to grow in a different garden. Only now could she see the stark changes that absence had allowed to grow. How her world had changed and she mourned anew for the loss of the boy that she had once so cherished and loved.

“I knew someone had shot some animals. They had yelled at me.. I didn't.. I should've told you.” She cried and whimpered out weakly. “It got you hurt. It got B-Brutus hurt. I distracted you. I know better.” She gasped out, “If I hadn't made you pr-promise.” She hiccuped, nearly making herself sick with her crying.

“S'my fault.”

“If you hadn’t made me promise… He would be dead…” And he swallowed thickly, smoothing away her tears with a thumb gracing her cheek, “Do you want him dead?” His soft eyes reflected a light copper as he watched her, waiting for the response as he ignored the pawing brute at his side, requesting fingers to coax underneath a heavy ear and continue petting the hound.

Her hand lifted to press over his own as he smoothed away her tears and sat waiting for her to respond to him. Her heart lurched, a soft and pleading 'no' twisting at it, clawing for her to beg for the young man's life, but it was muffled; diluted by the sight of blood before her.

“I don't want you to get hurt. I don't want you to hesitate in a fight when someone is trying to kill you. He would've tried to kill you then, wouldn't he?” She croaked, her voice hoarse as she trembled where she sat. The thought of his death was worse than that of Aetlution. Aetlution, though she had loved him, had been dead to her for several years now. It was a long ago, accepted pain.

Vini though, Vini couldn't die. He was her world. Without him she had nothing.

Without him she was nothing. She'd simply cease to exist.