There wasn’t a way to fight coughs and fevers, only Steve and God could sort that out. Bucky does however vow everything he is and will be to Steven Grant Rogers in that dark sterile room, from now until the end of the line.

Prompt: Training Duels @jilytoberfest

“Potter and…” the Professor Dawlish called, “Evans.” 

The pairing was met with startled gasps and the immediate whispers of gossips all around. It was no secret they’d never gotten along well; but after the confrontation at the lake last year they were all eager to see what would happen in the Evans/Potter rivalry next. 

Lily flexed her shoulders and shed her outer robes. She stepped up to the edge of the dueling circle and looked across at her opponent. Potter, who had previously been peacocking and trading jabs with his friends, had gone stock-still and pale– and utterly silent. He stepped into the dueling circle as if facing his execution, looking uncharacteristically nervous. She wondered if he would ask Professor Dawlish to assign him a different dueling partner. 

She, on the other hand, was elated at their partnering. Since their argument by the lake last year, she’d been simmering in her anger– and it was begging for release. He’d done his best to avoid her this year, and they’d made it almost a month into school exchanging no more than general pleasantries– speaking to one another only when strictly necessary. But she’d spent all summer avoiding Sev’s attempts at reconciliation; and with every attempt, she was reminded of the catalyst of deterioration of their friendship in the first place: Potter. Mar called it misplaced anger, but Lily called it retribution. How many students had Potter picked on “just because he could”? By her calculations, it was about time he had a taste of his own medicine. 

“Wands at the ready!” Professor Dawlish called, “Remember: it is a practice duel. You are trying to disarm your opponent only.” She and Potter stepped into the center of the dueling ring, bowing slightly before retreating the requisite steps away before the start of the duel. “Duel!” Dawlish announced, and she spun on her heel– sending a stinging jinx at Potter. 

He deflected it, but didn’t retaliate. She cast a body-bind hex his way, but again he only deflected it. Potter matched her step for step as she paced the perimeter of the dueling ring, but didn’t offer any return fire. Lily narrowed her eyes at him. From what she’d seen before in class, Potter was proactive in his duels. He came at his opponent strong– deflecting and casting hexes and jinxes with speed and precision. Lying in wait wasn’t his style. 

Lily cast another stinging jinx, followed by a stunner– both of which he simply deflected. She could feel her already heightened temper rising. Why wouldn’t the git fight back? His face already looked defeated, and she hadn’t even touched him yet. What was his angle? She fired off spells one after another: stupefy, reducto, expelliarmus, baubillious– the last one firing a bolt of lightning from the end of her wand– which he only deflected. “Fight back! You pompous git!” she yelled at him, enraged at his apparent apathy, and firing off another series of stunners and jinxes. He deflected them all, simply renewing his shield charm. 

“Disarm only, Miss Evans!” Professor Dawlish called, but Lily wasn’t listening. A dull roaring filled her ears, as she prepared for her next attack. 

“Difindo!” she cast, making a sweeping motion through the air with her wand. A red slash glowed against his shield charm before fading. “Difindo!” she cast again. And again. And again– red glowing slashes against his shield charm. She cast spell after spell, until she finally felt it: his shield cham collapsed under the force of her attack. Quickly, before he had time to cast another, she cast: “Levicorpus!”

Like Sev had that day down by the lake last year, Potter was yanked off his feet into the air– hanging there by his ankle. “Doesn’t feel so good, does it Potter?” she taunted, guiding her wand to swing him around the room. “You are a foul git who picks on those weaker than you just because you can, but you’re no better than the rest of us! You–” but she her tenuous control on her anger snapped– and for the first time since she was eleven, her magic acted of its own accord, flinging him across the room. His body slammed into the stone wall, and he slumped to the ground.  

Her wand was ripped from her hand and flew to the waiting palm of their professor. “EVANS!” roared Dawlish, before rushing to his fallen student. Black and Lupin were already at Potter’s side, helping him to sit up and checking for injury. Lily knew she should apologize. Say something. Anything. Anything was better than standing there gaping like a fish while the rest of the class looked at her in horror. 

“I– I–” she stammered, “I didn’t mean to…” but it came out no louder than a whisper. She glanced around the circle to her peers for help. Surely someone knew she hadn’t intended to throw Potter against the wall. It was an accident! The Hufflepuff nearest her took another step back from her, cowering, as if he was afraid she’d unleash her anger on him next. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to,” Lily whispered, taking in Potter’s dazed expression and the bruise already forming on his jaw. The walls felt like they were closing in on her. The defense classroom suddenly became a tomb. Without another word, Lily turned on her heel and fled. 

Art Prompt

Writing Prompt

Poe loves when Rey gets to experience new things.....

Go forth and Create Fam <3

Don’t forget to tag #damereycreations and #prompt13

@doubi-ixi​ @linariouswrites​ @thethistlegirl​

Cute dragon below the cut

Breath in Breath out

..........................

Laurance was out of it. Probably drugs. He didn’t like drugs. But he didn’t like to move when he was drugged. It often made the situation worse. So, he waited until he could think and feel his fingers again. But, then, he could feel his face. His eyes snapped open. There was something on his face!! It was trapping moisture on his skin, it was feeding something into his lungs.

He tried to reach up calmly to pull it off, telling himself it was okay. He would get off and….. His hands were strapped down. He felt something tighten in his chest and he started counting and trying to ground himself. This wasn’t good. He couldn’t have a panic attack right now. But he was trapped! Trapped in a white room with beeping machines. Another horrid hospital. And he was tied down. Laurance tried to breath again. He focused his mind on other things and ignored the mask and the beeping and the restraints. What was he doing that got him here? He had been fighting a villain in the streets of Volten. He had been knocked down hard. He remembered bruising and not being able to breathe. 

Laurance tried to relax, but the sound of shouting as someone somewhere was going into cardiac arrest made Laurance jolt against the bonds. He started to breathe harder and harder as he couldn’t stop pulling on the straps. He felt so weak. He felt so alone. Where were the others? Where was his team? They should be here calming him down.

The oxygen mask seemed to press tighter against his face. It threatened to drown him.

Laurance opened his mouth and let out a strangled cry as tears spilled over and across his cheeks into his hair and the pillows. A nurse poked her head in and called to a doctor. The man strode in, pushing up his glasses after closing the door behind him. He walked so slowly to the bed.

“He-elp,” Laurance choked.

The doctor studied him for a moment, watched Laurance’s muscles bulge against the restraints and at the panic rising in his eyes. If it were possible, Laurance would have thrown up. 

The doctor leaned down and Lauranmce could see his own reflection in the man’s glasses. His eyes had turned red in his panic. Cracks were starting to appear in his face as his fight reflex was triggered. 

The man turned and loaded a needle.

“P-please,” Laurance sobbed, feeling so open to attack under the thin hospital blankets and the wimpy hospital gowns. “Please, I’ll hold still please. Please untie me I’ll hold still!!”

The man glanced over and tutted. Laurance felt a cold feeling line his stomach as he saw what the doctor was loading into the needle. A paralyser, but one that wouldn’t knock him out. 

“No!” Laurance started screaming, muffled by the oxygen mask. He just couldn’t dislodge it. He couldn’t struggle hard enough. He could only buck his hips and try to scream.

The doctor narrowed his eyes and put the needle down. He reached across Laurance and pulled straps over his chest and hips. Laurance threw himself violently in what movement he could manage, screaming as best he could with his ragged throat. The straps had a lot of slack so the doctor could buckle them through Laurance’s movement. Laurance felt his freedom disappear inch by inch as the doctor winched the straps tight across his body.

Laurance couldn’t scream anymore. He could only sob fearfully, old and new wounds acting up. His heart scar ached in a way that could only be healed by Anisha’s cold fingers. 

The doctor picked up the needle and Laurance turned his head away as it was pushed into a vein and emptied. Laurance could feel his muscles relax completely over the next few minutes and that was terrifying in itself. The doctor stood over him, light glinting off his glasses so Laurance couldn’t see his eyes. Laurance was completely drugged, only able to move his eyes. He could do nothing about the tears that continued to flow.

The doctor leaned down to his ear, and whispered, “I’m supposed to heal you, and I will, but I am no friend to your kind, semni. You will feel the same fear my son did when he was killed by semni like you.”

Laurance could only watch as the man straightened, tightened the oxygen mask to Laurance’s face, and left without a backward glance. Laurance wished he could shake or jolt, or something. He couldn’t scream, he couldn’t touch the pads of his fingers together or bounce his knee. He was stuck. And the pixie cursed oxygen mask was too tight to his face.

And here let me show two prompts:

13. Corrupted, featuring Shattered Dream

14. Sing, featuring CodeSwitch!Dream, named as Dusk.

For the prompt 13, I chose to reference a small part of a fanfic that I read where Dream turns to Shattered Dream and Killer gets heartbroken after seeing this.

For the prompt 14, I used the song that many of us know from Wander Over Yonder, the one named as "I'm the Bad Guy"; and how in CodeSwitch, Dusk takes Nightmare's place as the King and Killer remains in the same role, I thought about doing this one.

Anyways! Hope you like it

Shattered!Dream: erroredart

CodeSwitch: zooliwrites24

Gloved fingers drum against the large wooden desk as the roegadyn’s eyes bore into the polished wooden case sat upon it. Vivid, borrowed memories rush back into the forefront of her mind and was enough to keep her hand drumming instead of reaching forward. The fact the previous encounter she’d had with the sort of object contained within lead to another attack from her condition a couple hours later hadn’t left her thoughts either. The risk of diving into a long lost brain while her own was still scar-marked had been laid clear. The safer thing to do would be to sell it off and never give it another look. Certainly it’d be easier than trying to explain what she’d experienced to the worrying miqo’te in her life.

It would be safer, smarter. Just pass it by. For once, pass it by.

That small voice’s pleading words echo weakly within the back of her skull as she sets a broad hand over the box and flick it’s latch open with her thumb. The distinct carved Whalaqee idol within had a very different design and aetherical aura about it than the last. A new memory, a new magic. None of it made sense to her from looking at it, but a small helping of aether is all it would take to make it as familiar to her as a childhood toy.

palm sweat stick from hand on steering wheel,

crunch of gravel beneath four rubber tires of our Ford Explorer,

hollow click-click-click-click of blinker echoing into empty alleyway crevasses.

I pretend to sleep because that’s what children do when they get home from a vacation. They sleep and Dad carries them from bed to car to lay rest in familiar spaces.

Listen to the low hum of a REM cycle sleep, 3 stages deep. Insomnia urges you to bask in the eve of never again.

The depression vortex is my home

“Look, if explosives don’t solve the problem, you’re not using enough.”