#for electrical field purposes so i’m okay with giving this a shot

[mylittleredgirl]

so someone in the Greater Hippie Community told me that for my health i should switch away from heating pads to old fashioned hot water bottles because of something something electrical fields, so i bought one! and the box says “do not fill using water from the domestic hot water system, as this can considerably shorten the life of the hot water bottle.” what?? am i supposed to fill this plastic thing from a rain barrel and then heat it up through the power of prayer? someone who has used this technology before explain.

#please advise #my mother didn’t want me to sleep with my dairy queen digital watch on in the 1980s #for electrical field purposes so i’m okay with giving this a shot

[wreywrites]

Tiger Shark

Part 6: The Reef

Chapter 34

The next morning, we find out.

Our schedules send us back to Command. When we arrive, Coin and her usual crew are there, as well as Plutarch and Fulvia, Katniss, three people I can only assume are Katniss’s prep team, a group of citizens of Twelve, including Gale, and Dalton, Beetee, and Haymitch. Who is apparently now sober and making it everyone’s problem.

Actually, from the way he launches into the purpose of this meeting, he’s making it Katniss’s problem.

He shows us the footage they shot of Katniss yesterday while Alvan, Gloss, and I were down in Special Weaponry with Beetee. It’s not good.

Then Haymitch says, “All right, would anyone like to argue that this is of use to us in winning the war?”

Silence.

“That saves time. So, let’s all be quiet for a minute.”

Oh great. Mandated silence is just what my fragile mind needs.

“I want everyone to think of one incident where Katniss Everdeen genuinely moved you. Not where you were jealous of her hairstyle, or her dress went up in flames or she made a halfway decent shot with an arrow. Not where Peeta was making you like her. I want to hear one moment where she made you feel something real.”

The silence stretches out and I’m about to start talking just for the sake of hearing something other than the sounds in my head when one of the District Twelve people speaks. “When she volunteered to take Prim’s place at the reaping. Because I’m sure she thought she was going to die.”

“Good. Excellent example.” Haymitch grabs a marker and scribbles on a notepad. “Volunteered for sister at reaping.” He looks up from the notepad. “Somebody else.”

Coin’s bodyguard, Boggs I think, is the next to volunteer an answer. “When she sang the song. While the little girl died.”

Haymitch starts writing again. “Who didn’t get choked up at that, right?”

“I cried when she drugged Peeta so she could go get him medicine and when she kissed him good-bye!” one of her preps blurts. Then she claps her hands over her mouth, which only draws more attention to her. She looks… rough. All three of them do. How did Katniss’s prep team get to Thirteen?

Now everyone is talking and Haymitch is scribbling furiously on his notepad.

“When she held out her hand to Chaff on interview night!”

“When she showed the Capitol the berries!”

“When she took Rue as an ally!”

“When she thought Peeta was dead when she saw he’d been picking the poison berries!”

That was my voice. Haymitch pauses, looks at me, and nods slowly.

Everyone else is looking at me too.

“It- it broke my heart. And then she was so happy he was still alive. She just…” I shrug. “It was so real.”

Haymitch nods again, looking pleased.

Everyone else starts spouting other occasions when Katniss made them feel things.

After several minutes, Haymitch holds up the notepad, the page full of scribbled words. “So, the question is, what do all of these have in common?”

Gale answers quietly. “They were Katniss’s. No one told her what to do or say.”

“Unscripted, yes!” says Beetee. He turns to Katniss and pats her hand. “So we should just leave you alone, right?”

We all laugh. Even Katniss smiles a little.

“Well, that’s all very nice but not very helpful. Unfortunately, her opportunities for being wonderful are rather limited here in Thirteen. So unless you’re suggesting we toss her into the middle of combat-”

Haymitch cuts Fulvia off. “That’s exactly what I’m suggesting. Put her out in the field and just keep the cameras rolling.”

“But people think she’s pregnant,” Gale says with a frown.

“Wait, that was a lie?” The words leave my mouth before I can stop them.

Haymitch nods. “Anything to stop the Games. Unfortunately, it didn’t work.”

“We’ll spread the word that she lost the baby from the electrical shock in the arena. Very sad,” Plutarch shakes his head. “Very unfortunate.”

Haymitch nods again and returns us to business. “Every time we coach her or give her lines, the best we can hope for is okay. It has to come from her. That’s what people are responding to.”

Boggs looks like he’s about to have a carefully-controlled stroke. “Even if we’re careful, we can’t guarantee her safety. She’ll be a target for every-”

“I want to go,” Katniss jumps in. “I’m no help to the rebellion here.”

I can’t argue with that. Not that I think I’d be much use to the rebellion anywhere else either.

“And if you’re killed?” Coin frowns.

“Make sure you get some footage. You can use that, anyway.”

“Fine,” Coin says. “But let’s take it one step at a time. Find the least dangerous situation that can evoke some spontaneity in you.” Coin frowns at the maps on the other wall. “Take her into Eight this afternoon. There was heavy bombing this morning, but the raid seems to have run its course. I want her armed with a squad of bodyguards. Camera crew on the ground. Haymitch, you’ll be airborne and in contact with her. Let’s see what happens there. Does anyone have any other comments?”

“Wash her face,” Dalton says with something close to a snort. “She’s still a girl and you made her look thirty-five. Feels wrong. Like something the Capitol would do.”

“Yeah. Y’all want old people, y’already got us.” Alvan gestures at himself.

Gloss laughs first. I join him, and soon the whole room is laughing. Except for Coin, who has her old standby, the neutral look of displeasure.

“We’ll keep that in mind,” Haymitch chuckles. “Thanks for coming, everyone.”

Coin dismisses us, and Fulvia drags Gloss, Alvan, and me down a few levels to get measured for our combat outfits. We aren’t going to Eight, she says, but they do need us to be camera ready as soon as possible, and that starts with armor that will match and compliment Katniss’s.

Uniforms.

It really is the Hunger Games all over again.

~~~                               ~~~                               ~~~

After supper that night, they show the propo they filmed in Eight, and that’s the Katniss that is the Mockingjay. She is amazing and terrifying and full of righteous fury and even I, who am bone-tired of killing, would kill for her and her cause.

Except the next night, after they air a new propo, this one featuring less action and more hospital footage, to shift the focus to how truly barbaric the Capitol is, the Capitol airs another of Caesar Flickerman’s interviews. Peeta is back, and he looks terrible. He looks like what I looked like during my Victory Tour but worse, and I am sure this was done directly by the Capitol, not by his own lack of will to live.

And if Peeta looks like that…

I can hear a laugh somewhere, the thunder of the stampede, the rumble and rush and roar of the dam breaking, and cannons. Always cannons.

~~~                               ~~~                               ~~~

I come around in the hospital.

“-told ’em, ‘That’s ridiculous, y’all’d’ve’f’I’d’ve, me not bein’ there’s no excuse to leave ’em wanderin’,’ ’n’-”

“You have a lot of stories about cows,” I mumble.

“Yeah, s’pose I do.” Alvan smiles a little. “S’pose all your stories’re about fish.”

“That’s fair.” Then I look at him seriously. “How long?”

“Half hour. Then in ’n’ out all night. Ya fell asleep for a while.” He shrugs. “Almost lunch, if you’re feelin’ up for it.”

So he summons Katniss’s mother, who clears me to leave after a few easy questions, and we go down to lunch, milling outside the dining room for twenty minutes while we wait for it to be our lunch slot. Alvan’s lunch slot. I don’t have a schedule printed on my arm today, so I’m just following him around.

After lunch, though, I get a real surprise. I am on my way out of the dining hall, trailing after Alvan on his way to whatever class Thirteen has deemed necessary, when Katniss catches up with me.

“I’m going outside,” she says, like this should mean something.

I stare at her.

“Usually Gale comes with, but he’s busy today, and my mother said you’re…” She looks uncomfortable. “She thinks some fresh air might help. If you want to come with, that is,” she finishes in a rush.

“Sure wouldn’t hurt ya,” Alvan says.

He has a point.

I nod. “Do I need anything?”

“No,” Katniss says. “I already got permission for you to come with.”

Ten minutes later, she leads me into the sunlight and then into the dappled shadows cast by the trees.

There were trees like this in the arena, the flood water crashing through them, sweeping me off my feet…

“Katniss?”

“Yeah?”

“I- Can you-?” I take a deep breath. “When it’s too quiet, I hear things. Like I’m back in the arena. I see them dying…”

She nods. She understands.

“Talking usually helps.” It’s never been just me and Katniss before. “I might still… blank out on you, but if you just keep talking…”

Katniss nods again, then hides her communicator under a bush and motions for mine. I pass it to her and she deposits it next to hers and leads me farther into the trees until we reach an old hollow log. She sits and pats the spot next to her. “I wanted to talk to you anyway.”

“Oh?” Not many people say that to me. Not these days.

“Yeah.” She frowns. “You and Finnick.”

“What about me and Finnick?”

For a split second, she looks confused, like she thinks she’s misread things and needs to backtrack, but knows she’s in too far for that. “You went along with everything in the arena. You never questioned any of it.”

I shrug. “I trust him. He got me through my Games. He got me out. He… he kept me moving forward, after.”

Now she looks really confused.

“I was worse, then. A lot worse. I didn’t win by fighting. I won by hiding. And after I got out, it was like I couldn’t hide anymore, because it was all…” I pause, shake my head, tap a finger against my temple, “right here, all the time.” Then I smile. “But Finnick was there. He didn’t just ditch me when we got back. He helped. We helped each other, I guess.”

“After the jabberjays… he was such a different person-”

It comes out before I can stop it. “How do you think Peeta would have reacted if he’d been in there with you?”

Katniss jerks backward, blinking, taken aback.

We sit in silence for several seconds, then I say, “I’m sorry they didn’t get Peeta out.”

She looks at me with such terrified intensity that I think I must have said something wrong, but then she whispers, “Did you see it? Last night?”

I nod.

“Has anyone talked to you about it? Anyone who didn’t know you saw it?”

I shake my head. “Alvan and Gloss were there too, and Alvan sat with me overnight, but he didn’t talk about it.” I frown. “You?”

“No. And I don’t know why.” She kicks a tuft of grass.

“I do.”

“What?” Katniss turns, her gaze boring into me.

I nod. “Yeah. Because I spent the night in the hospital just wondering if they’re doing the same thing to Finnick. I have no idea what knowing would do to me. And they want to keep from finding out what it would do to you.”

In the moment it takes Katniss to digest this, a deer wanders into the clearing in front of us. She draws her bow and brings it down. Then she starts cleaning it.

I watch, waiting for her to speak. I need her to speak, but she also needs to process this, and I can’t take that away from her.

While she is thinking this over, I realize something. I have one thing going for me: I’m not Katniss. I won’t have to watch Finnick deteriorate on live TV, because I’m not the rebellion. I’m just Annie. They won’t torture him for me.

Without pausing her work, Katniss says, “You knew them all. The other victors.”

“Most of them.”

“Fulvia wants to do a series of propos called We Remember, about the victors who have died. And the other tributes. It’s a good idea.” She stabs her knife into the dirt. “But they want it to be genuine. Coin doesn’t want Gloss doing it because he’s…” She pauses, looking for the word.

“Yeah,” I say. I know the sentiment she’s going for. “He is.”

Katniss nods and moves on. “And Messalla doesn’t want Alvan doing it because his accent is ‘distracting.’” Finally, she looks up at me. “Your name was next on the list.”

I shake my head. “I can’t do it. Not alone. Every little thing about some of them would set me off.” I think of Raela, who loved the ginger cookies they always had out in the Victor Center. Of Seeder, who taught us to juggle. Of Beck…

“I don’t want you to do it alone,” Katniss says. “I want all three of you to do it. Or all five of you, if Beetee and Haymitch want to pitch in. I want it to be a conversation, not a narration.”

A smile sneaks onto my face. “You didn’t get to hang out with us,” I say. Now that I’ve said it, “get to” maybe wasn’t the best way to phrase it. I go on quickly. “I mean, the victors spent quite a bit of time together. We became friends. Gloss and Cashmere were not joking when they said we have become like a family. And back before all this, we had so many conversations about each other. So many funny stories and inside jokes and little things that made you smile or made you cry. And now to share that with Panem…” I nod. “Now the whole country can be part of the conversation about their victors.”

Katniss smiles. “Good. Thank you. Now,” she stands, “can you help me carry this deer back?”

~~~                               ~~~                               ~~~

We have venison in the stew for supper, and Katniss sits with Alvan, Gloss, and me, and we tell them her idea. They agree wholeheartedly, and Katniss hurries off to tell Fulvia.

The next morning, our schedules have us in Production every minute that isn’t mealtimes. Fulvia sits us around a table with a microphone and asks us to simply talk. We will start with the tributes and victors we knew the best, and everyone we can manage from the Quarter Quell.

When Gloss asks what exactly to talk about, Fulvia says anything we think of. The propo team will go through it all and cut it together later.

“I don’t want them to change it,” I say, stubbornly.

Fulvia nods. “We’ll let the three of you approve the final products before we air them, to make sure we’ve represented things correctly.”

“Alright,” I say.

Gloss nods.

“I remember the first time I met Blight,” Alvan says. “He won three years before me, ’n’ he was the hot item in the Capitol. When I met him at my Victory Banquet, he had a girl on each arm, ’n’ he looked me in the eye ’n’ said, ‘You listen, and you listen good! Do not eat the pink ice cream!’”

The vocal transition shocks me out of the story. It’s not Alvan’s voice. It is most definitely Blight.

But Alvan continues, and the voice is his again. “’N’ then he waltzed away, ’n’ I didn’t see him again ’til my Victory Tour.”

Gloss laughs. “He said the same thing to me! I never did find out why. Must have had a bad experience. Or he didn’t want to share.”

We go on like that all morning. I work very hard to stay present, to share the stories that are most important as we work through a very arbitrary list Plutarch scribbled down and provided at some point. I also work very hard to not get distracted by Alvan’s flawless impressions of literally everyone we talk about.

~~~                               ~~~                               ~~~

When we break for lunch, I decide to bring it up.

“How do you do that?” I ask Alvan as the three of us sit in our usual spot on the end.

“Do what?”

“Those imitations.”

He pauses, then says, “Well, Annie,” then stops. It isn’t his voice. I can’t quite place it, but it isn’t him. He clears his throat and tries again. “Annie, it’s not really that hard.”

I burst out laughing and half the dining room turns to stare at me. Laughter is uncommon here. Even more so from me.

But Alvan goes on, telling me all about how impressions are about learning what your tongue does to make your voice sound the way it does, which also tells you why everyone else sounds the way they do, and then you can make your voice like theirs, all the while in a perfect Caesar Flickerman.

Gloss is laughing too, and Alvan grins and in the middle of a sentence switches to Haymitch to tell us off for laughing at him.

We are howling.

Finally, chuckling himself, Alvan clears his throat again and returns to his normal speaking voice. “Anyhow, ’s’not hard.”

“You’re amazing!”

“Well, it was what scored me my ten.”

“What?” Gloss wheezes. “I thought you were going to talk them through butchering a cow!”

“Nah, Kivvie suggested I do impressions of the Gamemakers instead. Which I didn’t do. I did Caesar Flickerman. ’N’ y’all.”

“All of us?”

“All y’all.”

~~~                               ~~~                               ~~~

That afternoon, we sit back down in Production and keep talking. Fulvia says the team is already cutting together what we did this morning, in the hopes of being able to air some of them tonight.

When we reach a lull in the conversation, after Alvan has finished a story about Seeder helping him get sponsors for the girl from Ten one year, just because she reminded her of herself at that age, Fulvia holds up a hand to stop us.

“We have four ready, if you want to watch them.”

We do. Kivvie, Blight, Woof, Raela.

It hurts, but I see why they want these. Panem has to know.

We make more. We talk for so long that Fulvia actually has to make us go to supper. We hurry through the line, already a few minutes late and trying to snag an empty table before it’s too late to avoid the awkward interactions that come when we try to get people to let Gloss sit by them. We manage an end spot, and have no more than sat down when I hear the anthem start playing from the TVs around the room. Out of habit, I look up.

“Annie, look at me.” Alvan’s voice is soft but sharp, immediate.

I recognize that tone. It’s the same one I used on him right before the monkeys attacked. And it’s the best way to make someone look at the thing you don’t want them too.

My gaze flickers to the screen in the corner, though they are all showing the same thing. Another twelve victors lined up. And there, at the end, the camera focusing on her face for far longer than it has on anyone else’s…

“Mags!” I’m on my feet, running for the screen. It doesn’t matter that I can’t get to her. I have to try.

The rifles crack.

“No! Mags!”

She is handing me a sunhat, a gift. She is frowning playfully, pointing at her eyes, telling me to focus. She is laughing as I swim frantically for the boat, holding that poor lobster just out of Finnick’s reach.

Someone is physically carrying me, kicking and screaming and sobbing, from the dining hall.

~~~                               ~~~                               ~~~

The next day, we make the hard ones. I feel nothing and everything. Alvan talks about Cally and Elsie and Merritt. He thinks Merritt got reaped because of him. He tells us stories about when Merritt was little, when he called him Unk Al, and rode one of Alvan’s tame cows around for fun, and learned to rope by practicing on the family dog. He tells us that Cally’s father was his mentor in the Games, just the Capitol twisting more screws. Gloss talks about Augustus. How people called him ‘cavalier’ as a joke, but how that really was his attitude the whole time. How the Capitol never deserved him. How he loved Megary and she loved him. How heartbroken he was when she died. We talk about Megary and then Beetee comes in and we talk about Wiress. I talk about Beck, taking us out on his boat, cooking whatever we catch, playing marbles until the middle of the night. I talk about Mags, weaving a lifetime supply of sunhats for me and a pair of shoes for Finnick, humming me to sleep the night of my Victory Banquet, letting my dad walk her home after every game night even though she could take care of herself because she knew how much it meant to him. I don’t know how I do it. I don’t remember it, but I hear it that night, right before supper, when they play us Merritt and Elsie and Cally and Augustus and Megary and Wiress and Beck and Mags.

Now it feels real. They’re really dead. And I have to live with that.

After that we go to supper, then they crowd us all into Command. The whole crew from when we watched their first attempt at a propo with Katniss, and more.

We watch Snow talk to Peeta. We watch Peeta’s listless eyes, his skin-and-bone frame. It’s all I can do to keep watching and hoping they don’t pan over to show Finnick sitting next to him.

And then Katniss is on the screen.

Then Snow.

Then Katniss.

Then Peeta.

Then me, talking about Beck. And Alvan, talking about Blight, and Beetee, talking about Wiress.

Snow is back.

Peeta is yelling, his eyes wild. “And you! In Thirteen! Dead by morning!”

Katniss is standing in the rubble of Twelve.

Peeta’s blood splatters the dropped camera.

Gloss and I are laughing as Alvan tells us a story about Kivvie sneaking a cow into Ten’s Justice Building.

The feed cuts, and everyone is talking at once.

Haymitch wants to take Peeta’s word, Coin wants caution, I want to know if they are beating Finnick the same way they are beating Peeta. Or maybe I don’t want to know.

Coin slams a fist on the table. It shocks us all into silence. “Get everyone to the bunkers, now.” She starts typing on a keyboard on the table. “We’ll call it a drill if it turns out to be a false alarm.” She taps one final key, and an alarm shrieks.

It’s shrill, nothing like the cannons, but what I hear is the cannons.

****

****

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

NEXT CHAPTER

Tag List:

@avoxrising @snow-dragon-rider @anakins-ride-or-die

#wrey writes #the hunger games #thg: tiger shark #annie cresta #finnick odair #dissociation #ptsd #canon typical violence #character death #ten's generational trauma continues #if you only knew the ideas my beta has

[hallowedmuses]

𝑑𝑖𝑠𝑐𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑡: 𝑜𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑓𝑙𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑟 𝑝𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑟

SUMMARY: Our ragtag team of heroes including Natasha Romanoff, Daniel Sousa, Clint Barton, Loki Laufeyson, Veronica Stevens, and Deke come together to rescue Director Daisy Johnson from the clutches of Lucia von Bardas. TRIGGERS: Torture, Violence, PTSD, Trauma WRITTEN WITH: @ofbartons, @oflokismischief, @ofdcniels, @daisyljohnson, @ronniestvns, @oflemcns

CLINT: when loki woke him up for the rescue mission, clint wasted no time. he threw on the first shirt he could find, which luckily was clean, and his shoes before literally tumbling out the door with his bow in hand. his fuzzy pizza-sliced patterned pajama pants wasn't the most tactical choice, but then again neither was his bright purple t-shirt and converse. once they'd arrived at the hellicarrier, clint took out the guards on a section of the deck before firing a bomb arrow at the wall to create a point of entry for 'tasha and the dude in the blue shirt. "i will admit, being subtle might have been the smarter play here." he chuckled over the comms while firing a trio of arrows. the explosion had two purposes in his head- one, the point of entry, and two, draw attention away from daisy's rescue duo. the second purpose was just working a little better than he'd thought it would. he slid across the deck, firing off a couple more arrows before standing up and kicking one of the guards in the chest. using the controls on the handle of his bow, he switched to a smoke arrow before aiming at a group of the guards "hey lo, i'm really glad you have the cape still." keeping the arrow drawn back, clint turned his head to look at his boyfriend "otherwise i'd be too distracted by that ass of yours." he winked and let the arrow loose, still looking in loki's direction "not to mention all these schmucks would be staring at it." he switched back to regular arrows before firing into the smoke.

LOKI: Loki should've known Clint would be far from ready when it was time to lead the mission, it had been quite awhile since he'd gone into battle but then again he did quite love the hunt when it came down too it. His mission was simply and if anything he could easily take out anything humans could throw at him. "Possibly but then again we have quite the army of people who have been missing out dear Director and I'd burn the place down if she wasn't in there." He mused throwing iced daggers at all who dared come near. For those who got to close they were met with his quick stabs and his illusions. when he heard his boyfriend speak chuckling softly "Its all about fashion darling, Those little SHIELD outfits do nothing for my figure" He mused back looking at Clint he always found his Archery skills rather attractive before he rolled his eyes "as for my ass I'm sure I can other wise to distract you, maybe flirt with a villain or two and see how much of your spy skills come out to play, after all Green is quite your color my hawk"

NATASHA: "Subtilty was never your strong suit, but I do appreciate the flare. The pajamas make it easier to find you too," she laughed as Clint shot a few explosive arrows to give herself and Daniel an entry point into the helicarrier. As Clint, Loki, and Ronnie guided Lucia's guards away from the entry point, Natasha and Daniel made their way in. Natasha fired off a few taser disks, hitting the oncoming guards squarely in the chest. She watched them fall to the floor, convulsing as electric shocks ran through their body. As the guards fought to peel the taser disks off of themselves, Natasha made her way through the hallway. She ducked as a few rounds of bullets came flying at her and Daniel. She grabbed him and pulled him toward the wall for cover. Natasha used the wall to shield herself as she fired at the oncoming guards. "Ronnie, have you located the room where Daisy's being held captive?" They could aimlessly fire rounds all day, but they needed to know what direction to go. She made a face as she heard bits and pieces of Clint and Loki's conversation over coms. "Honestly," she frowned and looked over at Daniel. "I can't even be mad. I did this to myself inviting those two along."

RONNIE: “Yea... I’m working.. on it.” Veronica breathlessly remarked over the coms. A few grunts could be heard as she flipped the guard she’d been tangled up with and stabbed him with one of poison daggers.  “Now where were we.. a yess.. here we go.” Ronnie grabbed her data pad, ducking down behind a bolder as she took control of the building. “I’m in, I’ve got eyes on Daisy.. She’s alive..” Ronnie neglected to add how bad she looked from the live feed she was getting on their shitty surveillance system. “She’s on the fourth floor, third door to the right. Give me thirty seconds, I’m disabling the alarms and lock mechanisms now. I’m about to fry the fuck out of their systems and equipment. Can’t promise I won’t blow the lights.. hope you brought flares.” Ronnie playfully teased, falling forward as a couple of guards began to fire at her out of no where. “Hey lover boys! As uncute as it is listening to you flirt endlessly while taking out guards, I could use some help over here! Cover me while I shut down their main line.” She made a mental note to switch them over to their own channel when she was finished here.

DANIEL: while this wasn't the strangest mission he'd ever been on, that title probably had to go to the whitney frost case, this had to be the most chaotic and strange team daniel had been apart of. you had not one but two super spies (one of which was in pajamas and using a bow and arrow of all things), a tech genius, a god (or were they an alien? daniel was a little fuzzy on that particular detail), and deke... at least most of them seemed to know what they were doing. daniel ducked down when agent romanoff pulled him out of the line of fire "thanks." he waited for the shooting to stop, meaning the men were reloading, and once they did he leaned out at shot the men. keeping low he moved towards the door to the stairwell one he heard daisy's location. daniel couldn't help the chuckle that escaped him at the couple's banter "compared to the things i've heard howard utter, this is nothing."

DEKE: In the past, when Deke had thought about his 'next cool mission' this had hardly been the thing in his mind. Not Arrow-Guy in his pajamas, not working with someone who practically a God, Black Widow herself or well, any of them. Certainly not Daisy being in danger like this... But still, he was nothing if not adaptable. So adapt he did. Rescue Daisy now, rankle his mind about all these events later. There was something pretty calming about the group of them being so casual and prepared (though he still felt a spike of fear at every loud noise, the many of them). He was working with the best, Deke reminded himself. He'd gotten the Hyperbaric Chamber ready to go for Daisy upon their return, nervously awaiting. In one of his more anxious moments  he'd thought about preparing food for Daisy before remembering he wouldn't know how long she'd be in there for. So, with the chamber up and waiting, Deke listened on the comms and waited. "How's it looking? It sounds pretty crowded." Crowded, being the word for all the many enemies they seemed to be facing (and taking down). "You guys doing okay?" He was fairly sure they were but it didn't hurt to ask.

DAISY: Daisy had been living in a fantasy world, but it could only last so long before she eventually had to wake up. Wake up was a relative term. It didn't mean she was entirely awake and aware, more so that she had to wake to the reality of her situation, that there were no happy endings, that she couldn't get what she wanted, that actions had consequences, and even when you thought you won, it could come back to bite you in the ass. In the time that it had taken everyone to track down her kidnappers, Daisy had been put through several different forms of torture. Lucia had even been so kind as to grace her with her presence, reminding Daisy of what she'd done to the woman and how everything she was going through now was her own fault. Daisy could give her that much. Daisy had done her fair share of awful things, even if she hadn't been entirely in control of her own actions at the time. Nick Fury Sr. had made sure of that. It seemed that even after she'd taken things over from him, he still managed to screw up her life, but in the end she wasn't really surprised by any of this.

Currently, she didn't know where Lucia was, and she was just surrounded by guards who had all made sure not to listen to a word she said. Still, that didn't mean she wouldn't try. Her ears were ringing, but she could still feel some kind of activity on the ship. She spat out blood. "Sounds like . . . you've got company," she taunted, her voice raspy and barely carrying out to them. Her breathing was shaky and uneven. "You might . . . wanna go deal with that." They ignored her, saying nothing.

CLINT: clint had been in a lot of sticky situations before, but this wasn't one of them... if anything he was like a greased up hog running from the farmers trying to catch him, which might be a little dangerous for him. bad things tended to happen to him when he got too confident, but at least both loki and 'tasha were here to keep him from dying. he was about to fire off an arrow when a guard came up on his left, so he turned and stabbed the arrow into the guy's eye "oooh... i hope your insurance includes vision." clint quipped as he fired another set of arrows into the group. "aww, don't be like that lady. you know that my husband and i are cute as fuck." he winked at her as he ran by, headed towards loki... not because he needed the back up but purely because clint wanted to get another look at loki. his look was different from the last time clint had seen him in his battle gear and the blonde had to admit it was a damn fine look. "hey handsome! you come here often?"

LOKI: Loki had enjoyed the thrill of field work, it had been such a long time since he'd been able to use his daggers and magic against an actual threat. The best part was having Clint fight side by side him, before they'd been on opposite sides of a war, never sharing more the small glances. He fought with a passion ensuring they would clear a spot to bring Daisy home, there was no way he was leaving without her even if it cost every single on of these humans lives. "Did you really just say that Clint?" He questioned chuckling softy as he quickly disarmed three more guys pinning them down with a couple of his daggers. "We actually are, plus you are the driving force that brought us together in life and on this mission. The blame is fully on your shoulders Nat darling." He teased the other as he noticed his lover coming towards him. He could easily see that glint in his eye whenever Clint saw Loki in his more regal clothes, though now he'd donned on his Asgardian wear leaving that as his go too field work outfit. He turned to reply to Clint before throwing a dagger right into the bad guy who'd tried to take Clint by surprise. "Depends on who's asking, and if they are going to buy me dinner first," He mused winking at Clint.

NATASHA: Natasha had learned long ago to tune out the chatter of the coms. She kept her volume low so she could focus on their current situation. If shit hit the fan outside, she trusted her team to be able to handle it. "Ah, Howard Stark. If working with him is anything like working with his son, I'd pass on the opportunity," she joked. Tony wasn't so bad...in small dosages anyway. The lights on their side of the helicarrier flickered before going out completely. In the next moment, Natasha and Daniel were bathed in an eerie red light. Ronnie must've knocked out the security system. Only the emergency lights were operational now. "Fourth floor, third door," Natasha nodded as they slipped into the stairwell. She heard heavy boots above them. Reinforcements were coming through. "Five pairs of boots," she whispered to Daniel as she ducked behind one of the spirals. As the sound of boots came closer, Natasha shot a taser disk at the first guard. He convulsed and fell forward, tumbling down the stairs. He was wearing the same mask Natasha saw in her memories. The widow jumped out from behind one of the spirals and landed a kick square in the chest of one of the guards. He fell forward and took a third guard down with him. Three out of five. Not bad. She turned to take down the other two, but it appeared Blue Shirt was already disengaging them. She would have to share the body cam footage from her stealth suit with Daisy later. That was sure to lift her spirits.

RONNIE: “Nice one Nat.” Ronnie mused as she watched Nat take out three guards at once, followed by Daniel knocking out a couple more. “You kids make a good team. Daisy’s gonna be so proud.” She snickered into her earpiece. She’d muted Loki and Clint’s come but kept an eyes on everyone’s body cams in case the lover boys got into trouble. She loved them dearly, but their banter was brining her lunch back up.  “They’ve got her surrounded.. ten.. maybe fifteen guys.. the footage is shit.. but I’m trying.. ” Ronnie relayed, watching the room she was being held in like a hawk. “She’s saying something to them but no ones budging... hold on..” a few clips to enhance the audio and suddenly Ronnie was sporting a shit eating grin. “I knows we’re here. Hang on, Director.. we’re coming for you.”  

DANIEL: hearing that they had eyes on daisy made him feel a little better but he wouldn't feel settled until she was out of here completely. after kicking the fifth guard in the chest, with his bionic leg for good measure, he turned towards natasha to see if she needed help "ten to fifteen? i think we can handle that." daniel smirked before reloading his guns "so how do you want to do this?" he peeked around the corner seeing that there were no guards outside the room but daniel knew all hell would break loose once they went in.

DEKE: He listened intently to the communications, hoping to hear word of Daisy's safety and prepare the Hyperbaric Chamber for her. Well, it was mostly prepared. It'd really be him opening the thing, then everything was smooth sailing. That is, if her injuries could be healed by it... Which they should. Unless she literally lost a limb or died she should be fine. She would be fine. He heard the ruckus over the comms and felt his heart swell with fear. "Any eyes on Daisy yet?" He asked desperately. Then he heard it. They found Daisy. "Is she okay?!" He asked over the coms, without much hope of getting an answer. They had other things keeping them busy, after all. So he continued waiting anxiously.

DAISY: As the fighting outside continued, the guards around Daisy got more anxious. They could hear on their comms that they weren't exactly winning this fight. "Let's just get rid of the dead weight," said one of the guards. "I doubt Lucia wants this one alive anyways."

"Did you hear her say that or are you just assuming shit again?" asked the other guard. "You know what she'll do if we go against her orders."

"Screw her orders. That's the fucking Avengers out there. If Lucia wants her alive, we can just blame her death on the Avengers, say they didn't give us any choice. Hell, we can say she attacked us." He pulled the tubes that had been connected to Daisy out, but there were still drugs in her system. She couldn't do much. She could barely move. He pulled her up by her hair, shoving a gun against her skull. "You're going to get them to stand down, or you're going to die.

"Guess. . ." Daisy choked on her words. It was hard to focus on her words, when she was focused on something else. "Guess I'll die then." Her shoulders moved up slightly in a shrug. She wasn't actually expecting to die now. She imagined Natasha was probably leading this charge, and these guards didn't stand a chance against her. If Daisy could just move her fingers a little more, she could help Natasha too. There. A small tremor shot out from her fingertips, and the door to the room slammed open. The guard still had a gun to Daisy's head, but Natasha would be here in 5...4...3...2...1... //

NATASHA: "Thanks, Ronnie," she replied when Ronnie relayed the message about what was waiting for them up ahead. "I dunno, Danny Boy," she smirked up at him. "I seem to be carrying all the weight here," she elbowed him gently. "Pick up the slack or I'm gonna leave you behind and save your girl myself. Maybe I'll steal the kiss right from under you too." Natasha glanced down at her utility belt to see what supplies she still had left. "I still have a few taser disks left. That should be enough to shock the oncoming guards. The rest we can take down the good old fashion way." And with that she heard the door to the room where Daisy was being held slam open. "Good girl," Nat grinned. Daisy was a fighter till the end. "Come on, Daniel. Let's work for a living." Natasha sprinted into the room full force. It didn't take long to make an assessment of the danger. She threw the first taser disk at the man who'd had a gun to Daisy's head. He dropped the weapon and began to convulse on the floor. Natasha threw the remaining disks that she had at the next few guards that tried to come at her. She used the momentum of their falling bodies to take down a couple more men. She was really hoping this would be the last of them.

DANIEL: the male let out a quiet huff at the update from ronnie "quack right?" he raised a brow before rolling his shoulders "to be fair, you are enhanced." daniel joked. he looked calm on the outside but internally he was worried about his girl... if that's still what she was. plenty of time had passed for her and daisy was probably given many opportunities to move on from some square she only knew for a short time... he wouldn't blame her in the slightest. nodding he followed after natasha, downing guards with his guns before exchanging blows with a couple. he dropped to the ground and knocked the legs out from under one before moving towards daisy his heart nearly breaking at the state she was in.

his hands were shaking slightly as he knelt down by her “hey... what did i tell you huh? i thought you were supposed to take care of yourself.” he was so relieved to see her again, although this wasn’t the reunion he had been hoping for after he had to stay behind to make sure that the team was able to escape back to their timeline with the chronicoms in tow. he worked as quickly as he could, removing any leftover wires and nodes from her body, while talking to her about... well, anything really. if anyone asked him later what he’d said, danny boy wouldn’t be able to tell you. his focus was getting daisy out of there and making sure she was safe. after he pulled the helmet off her head, he started brushing the hair out of her face “keep fighting okay? you stay awake for me daisy and i’m gonna get you home.” memories flashed in his mind of their time in the barn with malick, his heart breaking at the fact people kept hurting the amazing woman in front of him. he’d kick himself later for not trying to find a way back to her sooner, could he have prevented this from happening if he had? or perhaps he’d have been taken too, used against her in some way... he’d never really know, but daniel had to focus now. get her home, get her safe, make sure she’s okay three easy goals he could focus on. as gently as he could, daniel gathered daisy up in his arms and lifted her from the ground. “i got you sweetheart, it’s okay.”

DAISY: As the man who had been holding Daisy fell after being tased by Natasha, Daisy crumpled too, her body unable to hold herself up after constant torture. She was glad to have been right about Natasha coming in, but after her head hit the floor, her awareness of what was around her was fading again. She vaguely heard the sound of fighting, and then there was a familiar voice that she hadn't heard in a long time. Her eyes, covered in her own blood, wouldn't open anymore, but she recognized Daniel. She must've been slipping. It was a result of being so close to death. An auditory hallucination. It wasn't real. "Daniel?" she whispered, allowing herself to ask even when she knew this wasn't real.  

NATASHA: Natasha was tired as she took out the last of the guards. Parts of her tactical suit were torn and her lip was bloody from where one of them managed to hit her, but she was thankfully in one piece. She pushed her coms button to give the team a status update. "We have Daisy," she informed them. "We're en route out through the north bay entrance. Take the carrier, find Lucia," her voice took on a darker tone. "I have some questions for her myself." Lucia von Bardas was the one that ordered this torture. Natasha was about to return the favor. She turned to see Daniel pick up Daisy. The woman was barely conscious at this point. Natasha approached them and gave Daisy a reckless smile before quacking obnoxiously. "I didn't give you permission to die. This is so unprofessional. I'm sure you'll make it up to me though."

Her coms buzzed. "Romanoff, we're in."

"Welcome to the party, boys," she grinned. Moments later she heard boots on the ground and the sound of rooms being checked and cleared. It was the back up unit that she'd called. "Come on, let's get her to the Hyperbaric Chamber."

DANIEL: "yeah sweetheart, it's me." he spoke softly as he adjusted his hold to keep a feel of her pulse like he had when he pulled her out of that barn all those years ago. watching the small interaction between natasha and daisy made him smile, seeing her have family like this made him so happy... it was everything she deserved. seeing the agents filing in daniel started moving out of the room, daisy didn't look too good and she needed to get back to hq to start recovering. he turned and looked over his shoulder, smirking slightly "you coming romanoff? thought you said you were gonna steal the kiss from me?"

DAISY: She still heard his voice speaking to her, and she felt like it was just a sign that she was going to slip away again soon. The sound of Natasha's voice was something she knew to be real. She could focus on it, though that was getting harder to do. She heard Lucia's name, and the hellicarrier started shaking violently. It wasn't intentional on Daisy's part. She was hardly in control of her body right now, but as Natasha came over to her and started quacking at her, Daisy calmed enough for the shaking to stop. She tried to return the greeting, but it only came out as choked gurgling. Apparently, blood in your throat didn't allow for very articulated speech, even in the instance of duck calls. She managed at least a small smile as Natasha criticized her for not getting permission to die. "n't dead yet," she wheezed out.

She felt herself being lifted up and moved through the halls. Her eyes weren't open, but she could hear and feel just well enough to know she was being moved quickly. Daniel's voice spoke again, and she had to remind herself again that this wasn't real. It was easier to believe that it was a hallucination from what he said. Even if it was her Daniel, she was sure Natasha would kick his ass for implying she was falling behind. Daisy hadn't been able to see much before, but she'd heard the fighting. Plus, she knew Natasha well enough too to know that she must've done almost all of the fighting here. From the sound of Natasha's orders, she was leading this thing. Whoever suggested she of all people was falling behind was going to regret the words coming out of their mouth. Daisy almost felt sorry for whoever it was, but at least it wasn't actually Daniel.

Whoever was carrying her, certainly not Daniel, got her off of the hellicarrier fairly quickly, or maybe Daisy was just losing her concept of time passing. She heard S.H.I.E.L.D. agents directing the person carrying her back to the zephyr, telling them to get her to the hyperbaric chamber as quickly as possible because she didn't look good. She fell back into unconsciousness before she found out if she made it into that chamber or not. Maybe she was dead. She hoped not. Natasha hadn't given her permission to die yet. How would she make it up to her?

DEKE: Deke was nervous. Not his usual 'state of being' kind of nervous but the more dastardly 'holy shit is my friend alive' kind of nervous. Also the 'she got tortured and it's my fault' kind of guilt laid in pretty thick too. But... he couldn't let that take away his focus right now. He needed to be an agent. Turn off the nerves and the guilt, he was a pro at it in the past he could for sure do it now. He would, if nothing else than for Daisy's sake. The moment Daisy was in, all hurt and bruised and broken but still Daisy, still strong. Well, Deke did what he did best. Move. As soon as it was possible with Daisy situated and safety in there the machination turned on and began it's process.

That was his part. Small. In the end, it was Daisy who would have the toughest job. And that was surviving. Deke inhaled deeply, wishing he could do more and knowing he could not. He ran a hand through his hair. "She'll be okay." He spoke, not even knowing if the words were for himself or the others. "She will..."

NATASHA: She rolled her eyes at Sousa's joke. "My pacing's fine. Yours though..." she frowned. She'd carried most of the operation from the investigation to the rescue mission itself so she wasn't even mildly amused. "We'll have to work on that if you wanna keep up with me and Daisy," she winked. She'd already stolen a kiss from Daisy...more than that actually. But she wasn't gonna tell the old man that. Bless his heart. Now that her team had moved in on the helicarrier, getting to the zephyr wasn't all to hard. Natasha's shoulders eased once Daisy was in the chamber. She would be okay.

"Romanoff, we have Lucia," one of her agents reported through the coms.

"I'm on my way." Natasha looked up at Deke, Daniel, and the others. "They have Lucia and I have questions." She also had a penchant for violence. And based on the way Daisy looked right now, Natasha had no plans to go easy on Lucia. "I think you guys can manage from here. Get Daisy home safe or the next body I bury will be yours," she informed the team. It was very clear she had the means to carry out on that threat. With that, Natasha left Daisy's side and made her way back to the helicarrier to interrogate Lucia. / END

#discord chat

[eyeliner-vampire]

Of Tea and Context

a Ghost Hunt drabble

Noll fell into the plush client chair as if weighed down by leaden anchor, mug swinging by the handle in his loose grip.

"Tell me" — Martin spared a glance at his son — "you brought coffee." The Research Administrative Supervisor was at least a binder deep into his notes on the Thoreau case and would very much have liked a fresh cup of coffee — if his work would ever allow him such a reprieve.

Noll frowned. "I require a new office."

Martin sighed; he knew it was a long shot. He would also be a liar if he said he wasn't expecting this visit. Frankly, he was surprised Noll made it through the week without complaining about it.

"I require a vacation," Martin said, leaning back in his chair and feeling the bones in his neck pop. "We don't always get what we want, Noll."

Noll adjusted himself in the chair, changing tact. "Why is Madoka's office in Pratt Laboratory?"

Martin eyed the empty mug still hanging loosely in his son's grip. "Because she is a field specialist."

"So am I—"

"Let me rephrase," Martin interrupted. "Madoka is active in the field."

The skin around Noll's eyes tightened and Martin knew he hit a nerve. He braced for the storm.

"How do you expect me to be active in the field if you never give me any cases!" Noll was on his feet now, pacing. "I've been back for weeks and I'm still answering emails and filing paperwork. I'm not an intern!"

"You might as well be," Martin said. "You've been... away... for two years, Noll. Things have changed. Policies have changed. You can't expect to just jump back into—"

"I never stopped."

Their voices echoed for a moment before the office fell silent once again. Martin scanned his son's face, unsure if it was anger or grief he found in the pinch between his eyebrows. It was true. Japan had been less of a bereavement period (as it had more or less been expected to be) and more of a business trip. Martin himself just finished filing incident reports for the last case where his son had thought it apt to one-v-one a god.

He shook his head. "Things changed in the time you were gone, Noll. Until you're back up to speed you will not be on any cases. And you are not moving into Pratt Laboratory. There isn't any room left if I wanted to."

"I—" Noll readjusted his grip on the mug, forlorn. After a moment, he sighed. "Fine."

"Fine?"

"I'll stay in the north wing—"

"That's the spirit."

—until such time that I become an active field member."

Martin rolled his eyes. They would cross that bridge when they came to it. At the moment there was a more pressing matter. "You know you could always just get an electric kettle. Bring the one from the house."

His son paused in the doorway. "...okay."

"Go on then."

Noll nodded, shutting the door with a soft click. Martin had only just returned to his notes when the door swung open again. "You did this on purpose."

He grinned up at Noll. "Did what?"

Noll only glared.

"I figured this might be about the trips to the break room."

"Then move me closer."

"No. It's good for you to get up every once and a while. You sit in that chair any longer, you'll become one."

Noll made a noise of indignation and swung the door shut behind him.

"Hey!" Martin called through the glass as Noll stomped toward the break room. "Grab me some coffee while you're in there!"

#aka Naru is used to having his tea brought to him #I felt like writing today #noll #martin #ghfanfic #ghosthuntfanfiction #oliver davis #martin davis #gh #spr

[dorizardthewizard]

The Revival of Akillian: Chapter 7

Okay, so there’s a mistake in the novellisation where the first page of chapter 7 is misprinted as the first page of chapter 5! It should only be a couple of sentences missing, but that’s why it starts a little abruptly.

-------------------------------------

Prologue / Chapter 6 / Chapter 8

7. THE LONELY ANGEL

Only the president of the Society, Master Brim Simbra - a Lightning - is permanently represented by an avatar: very old, he does not leave his home planet, because his body can no longer support space travel. Even the simple jump between Xzion and its crown of satellites represents an insurmountable challenge for him. Sitting in a meditative posture in a virtual bubble with purple shades, his avatar seems to float in the center of the large sphere, above the slowly spinning miniature Galaxy.

It is the Honorable Galahaas, Grand Master of the Shadow Council - the Shadow Government -, dressed all in white and wearing the Society badge as required by protocol, who speaks first:

- Our main concern is whether Aarch will manage to awaken the Breath of Akillian. We fear that the emergence of this flux will disturb the balance of the galaxy.

Dame Simbai, the human representative within the Society - a mature woman but still very beautiful, with long brown hair, a soft and calm voice - immediately contradicts him:

- Come now, Honorable Galahaas! Akillian's Breath is not strong enough for this. Contrary to what you might think, it is not responsible for the great glaciation that this planet has suffered...

- You seem better informed than all of us, Dame Simbai, - replied the delegate Shadow. - Can you shed some light on this issue?

But Brim Simbra - big white eyes without pupils, angular and even gaunt face - intervenes with his deep, artificial voice, which produces a slight echo:

- Our Society was created to prevent fluxes from being used outside of Galactik Football matches. In this sporting context, their use represents absolutely no danger.

- I know that, Master Simbra, - Galahaas replies with deference. - But who’s to say that Technoid isn't hiding behind Aarch? I am very wary of Technoid… rightly so, you will agree.

Everyone nods gravely: no one is unaware that Technoid was once the instrument of the Humans' war against the Lightnings and the Shadows, the terrible Shadow Wars. Created for this unique purpose, devoted entirely to military technology, Technoid sent its over-armed ships and soulless robots to sow death, ruin and desolation in this hitherto peaceful region of the galaxy...after the war, it set out to conquer the galaxy in a more peaceful way: by trading in its high technology, its robots and droids, its home automation and security systems - and through its holovision networks. Now, whether among the Shadows, the Lightnings, the Rykers, or even in the depths of the most rural village of the peaceful and spiritual Wambas, we inevitably come across a robot, a slider, an alarm system or an air conditioner wearing the Technoid logo. TTV channels are broadcast on every planet by Technoid satellites. Most of the spaceports and the ships that use them were designed and built by Technoid. And also, of course, all the stadiums of Galactik Football…

However, if Technoid officially displays peaceful commercial ambitions, everyone also knows - thanks to Dame Simbai - that it is more or less controlled or infiltrated by a squad of soldiers; that, among these, some still have not digested the defeat, and dream of a grandiose revenge, of absolute domination of Humans over the galaxy... for so is human nature. Even the Shadows, little known for their pacifism and kindness, learned this the hard way.

- Certainly, Honorable Galahaas. - agrees Dame Simbai. - But I know Aarch personally: he's clearly not the kind of man to sell his soul to Technoid.

- If you say so... there is still one point that particularly worries me: six of the children he selected to form his team suffered from a strange, unexplained fever a few years ago. And the seventh - originally from the moon Obia, however - seems to master the Breath to perfection. However, all these children were born just after the Catastrophe… this tilting of the Akillian orbital axis of which I admit we do not know the causes, but of which - you must admit, Dame Simbai - we do not yet understand all of the consequences.

- I recognize this, Honorable Galahaas. However, I notice that you seem very well informed about all this!

- I have contacts on Akillian. - the dignitary Shadow evades with a small smile.

- Either way, - says Master Simbra, - the use of the Breath of Akillian in Galactik Football is legal. It is not our job to thwart it. Our role is simply to watch that the Breath does not spread outside of this framework...

- It came to my ear, - intervenes in a creaking voice Soror Gomorrah, the vice-president of the Board of Directors of Unadar (the Ryker government), - that Aarch has for a collaborator a certain Professor Clamp, who formerly worked a lot for Technoid...

- Precisely. - confirms Galahaas. – This is why I insist that these two be watched very closely.

***

Aarch's team are training hard in the holo-trainer, which has been moved and set up in the basements of the Arena Stadium, which have remained largely untouched and free from snow and ice. Shots, passes, saves, rebounds, dribbles, ball control, everything goes. Micro-Ice does tons of it to impress Mei, who barely deigns to give him a look. Sinedd tries to be stronger and faster than D’jok, and sometimes succeeds. Ahito is pretty much asleep as long as there are no balls coming his way, but comes to attention in front of the net surprisingly quick. Thran would love to find a way to connect his new high-tech ball to the holo-trainer, but Clamp lets him know that “You don't have to, boy, the ones generated by my machine are fine”. Last but not least, Tia, silent and distant from the group, amazes everyone when the Breath manifests itself in her; when she flies to the ceiling, carried by a column of light, turns into a kind of white demon and swings a twist shot that shakes the holo-trainer itself… then falls gently to the ground, not even out of breath, just a little surprised at this feat.

- Seriously, I can't believe it! - cries Thran in awe. - How does she do that?

- We should take a closer look, she may have wings on her back! - D’jok quips, a little jealous that this girl is stronger than him - than all of them put together in fact - and that she doesn't even take pride in it.

- You got it all wrong, guys! - Micro-Ice intervenes. – She’s not the angel. The angel’s over there, I'm telling you!

He points to Mei at the other end of the field, simmering near Sinedd, who does not notice her, determined to look away from the object of her annoyance.

- Huh? Uh… what? Where are we, guys?

- We're going to switch to ball control – announces Aarch.

Drumming on his console, Clamp enters this new program into the holo-trainer. They are now set up in what was once a circular, clean and well-lit holographic projection room. The “Scrap” - multifunction robots manufactured and programmed by Clamp - did their job well: cleaning the premises, removing the seats, repairing the lighting and electrical circuits. In this nickel-colored room, it is hard to believe that above it lies frozen rubble seventy-five meters thick...

- Speed? - Clamp asks.

- Maximum!

In the holo-trainer, all players meet in a line, each with a ball. Aarch briefly explains to them what he expects of them: to run with the ball as fast and as long as possible.

- But we'll be at the other end of the pitch right away, - says Thran.

- No, because you will stay where you are. Above all, be careful to keep your balance.

- Let's go! - calls Clamp.

- What did they invent as an instrument of torture this time? - Micro-Ice worries.

No sooner has he asked this question when a treadmill appears beneath his feet and starts turning.

Micro-Ice and his teammates are forced to run as fast as the treadmill rolls, pushing the ball in front of them, if they want to stay standing and score points. Soon the exercise gets complicated, as markers appear that they must avoid by dribbling tight, without losing their pace at the risk of being ejected.

- D’jok… just for the record… - pants Micro-Ice. - Football is… a game, right?

- That's true! - Ahito adds, struggling to keep up. - Why do we never play matches?

- You are not here to have fun! - Aarch warns from outside. - If I recruited you, it was not to make up the numbers, but to create a real team, which is able to beat the best. You will play matches when you are ready!

- And when will that be exactly…? Heeeeey…!

Because of his chatting, Micro-Ice loses his rhythm and concentration, and his feet are carried away on the moving surface. He tilts forward and collapses on the conveyor belt, which immediately carries him away.

- Not today, obviously. - smirks Aarch, who saw his fall on the console monitor. Then, speaking to Clamp: - O.K., that's it for now.

The team emerge from the trainer exhausted, breathless, their muscles paralyzed by hours of hard work. Sinedd still finds the energy to laugh at his punching bag’s face:

- Really, Micro-loser, you're nothing but a buffoon!

- I wonder what keeps me from hitting this guy! - Micro-Ice growls.

- Fear, probably. - suggests D’jok. – You have to admit, you are no match for him...

- Ah, that's what real friends are for: they always know how to make you feel better! No, really, how nice of you!

Silent as always, Tia passes the group and climbs the steps that lead to the gallery leading to the exits of the room. Her passage throws a chill over the rest of the group.

- Has she spoken to any of you? - asks Thran. - She never said a word to me!

- By the way, - Clamp informs, - for those interested, I finished setting up the massage room this morning.

- That’s great news! - rejoices Micro-Ice, who feels stiff all over - and his latest fall didn't help.

The massage room is a room furnished with hard and cold tables, above which are suspended “Scrap” robots from the ceiling, with arms fitted with feelers. These, perhaps not very well adjusted, hit and hit the bruised bodies of the players. They feel as though they are receiving a hail of punches on their backs, stomachs and thighs, barely softened by pads of compressed foam, hard as wood.

- Guys, it's not me… who said… this was good news, was it? – Micro-Ice manages to say, wincing at this new torture.

- Oh! Ouch! Oh no, I think… that I'm going to throw up… - hisses D’jok through clenched teeth.

- Why are we here? Can you tell me that? Ouch...

- To play football all day. It could be worse, right? Gn… do you prefer to work deep in the ice mines?

- Ouch! I won’t lie... that it did cross my mind. Argh...

- Do like my brother, guys! - suggests Thran, who seems to be coping better. - Relax and everything will be fine!

Ahito is certainly relaxed: kneaded as hard as the others, he still sleeps like a dormouse...

***

Tia cautiously walks through the restoration site of the Arena Stadium, where all kinds of “Scrap” are busy welding, gluing, bolting and erecting frames and infrastructure, in a well-ordered din of knocks, crackles, clicking, buzzing and crackling. One of them spins around her, a welding laser and water pump pliers at the end of its artificial arms. It pats down her clothes, scans her head to toe, concludes that she is not listed material, and returns to its task. Tia sighs with relief: the “Scrap” could just as well have taken her for a beam and tried to integrate her into the construction... Clamp's robots are not always one hundred percent efficient: this one, for example, persists in searching a container of waste that it believes to be its toolbox and obstinately tries to graft pieces of plastic, scrap metal or sections of electric cables onto the end of his arms.

Tia walks up to Aarch's office and rings the doorbell, and the door slides past her. This is the only room that has been fitted out above the ground, thus benefiting from the daylight which floods in through a large bay window. On the parquet floor, a large panel of glass offers a view of the glacier which fills a street below. Tia stands at the edge of this surface, as if afraid of falling into the void.

- You asked to see me, sir?

Aarch rests the game strategy he was studying on the desk, stands up and greets her with a smile.

- Yes. Come closer, I don’t bite!

She walks hesitantly, eyes lowered. In fact, it's not fear, but shyness, Aarch notes.

- Tia… since when have you had the Breath of Akillian?

- Pardon?

She puts her hand to her mouth, as if she had done something stupid. Aarch clarifies his question:

- Since when have you been able to do what you do with the ball?

- Uh... for a long time, sir. I don't remember very well...

Aarch leans against his desk, crossing his arms, trying to adopt a relaxed demeanour - he doesn't want to look too inquisitive in front of this visibly intimidated young girl.

- And your parents… how did they react when they found out about your gift?

- They don't know. My parents are important diplomats, they are always on the go. I was brought up by my housekeeper...

- They at least know you're here, I hope?

- You haven't received their message, sir?

- Yes, I received it...

Aarch picks up a holo-card reader from his desk, activating it. In the bluish field above the device, an elegant, rather young man and woman stand out, barely resembling Tia. But the Obians are pretty strange people...

“We have given our daughter Tia permission to play on your team.” the man says stiffly. The woman hugs him, all smiles, and adds, “We're very proud of her, you know, Mr. Aarch!”

- Well, there are my parents… - confirms Tia, lowering her eyes timidly.

Aarch cuts the reader off and puts it back on the desk.

- I don't doubt it, Tia. Well... if you don't want to tell me more, go get ready for the interview.

She nods and leaves without a word.

***

Mei has spread out five or six outfits on her bed; she doesn't know which one to choose and it's starting to annoy her. Faced with this dilemma, she calls her mother.

- Oh, mom… mom! I don't know what to wear and we’re gonna be on in an hour, do you realize? We are going to be on Arcadia News, a channel broadcast throughout the entire galaxy!

She paces in front of the screen, exasperated.

- Pull yourself together, Mei! Choose one that suits you perfectly ...

- But mum, they all suit me perfectly!

- Well, in your place, I would wear the blue one! It will look great with your eyes.

Mei jumps and looks up above the screen: it's Micro-Ice, at the bedroom door, checking out her pink boots and her undershirt.

- In case you haven't noticed, this is the girls' room here!

- Yes, I noticed (Micro-Ice leans against the doorpost). But you can trust me, I assure you...

- Sorry to disappoint you, but... (Mei pushes him outside bluntly) No, I don't trust you!

The door slams in front of his nose. Micro-Ice sighs.

- Well, I guess that didn’t go well…

As he walks off with his head down into the hallway, he passes an equally withdrawn Tia, who doesn't even give him a look. She walks into the girls' room and goes to collapse on her bed.

Still struggling with her outfits which all suit her perfectly, Mei notices Tia's rather banal and functional sneakers on her feet, wide gray pants, tight T-shirt and sleeveless orange bomber jacket.

- Tia, let me remind you that the live stream is in less than an hour! You aren’t going out there like that, are you?

- I'm not going to go at all.

- Is that so? - Mei is surprised. - Don't you want to be on TV?

- No, I don't care.

Mei raises her eyebrows, surprised: for her, she has been dreaming about going on TV for years!

- Why?

- I don't want to be seen, that's all! - Tia answers dryly.

She starts rummaging in the bedside table, cutting off the conversation. Mei shrugs her shoulders and goes back to her dresses: yes, maybe the blue one would be fine after all, with her pink boots...

Tia takes a 2D photo from the drawer that she sadly begins to gaze at, where she is with a couple. If the woman has the same hair color as on the holo-card Aarch received, her cut is different and her face is rounder. The man is not at all alike: as much as the other looked like a thin bureaucrat with a pale complexion and glasses, he is burly, broad-shouldered, with a square face - and he has silver hair.

Her parents. Her real parents.

Who don't know she's here.

How will they react when they find out? That's why she especially doesn't want to be on TV...

However, she does not regret that she has run away and does not intend to return. Lying on her somewhat hard bed, amongst the minimalist decor and the comfort of this room which still smells too much of rough building works, she does miss the luxury of her residence on Obia... and especially the maternal love of her housekeeper - the one who really raised her, the only one who knew her talent and understood her… to the point of having helped her escape.

#galactik football #the revival of akillian #we get a little history on technoid; its role in the flux wars and why people like bleylock were allowed to keep doing what they did #also find it hilarious that micro-ice is trying to impress mei and the next sentence says sinedd is trying to one-up d'jok

[hellowkatey]

Febuwhump Day 26

Prompt: Recovery

Part 2 of Day 25: car accident (read part 1 here!) 

Read on AO3

I Will Always Be Here: Part 2

The smell of antiseptic is making Obi-Wan dizzy. He stands in the doorway-- not of Anakin's room in the Hall of Healing, but of the door to the halls itself. From here he can watch the bustle of healers and padawans running about, all too pre-occupied with treating the sick and injured to pay attention to the bystander with red-rimmed eyes.

Except for one. A Mon Calamari in olive green and white robes, her silver eyes immediately falling onto him as she exits a room. Bant Eerin crosses the busy floors with ease, scanning over him in the usual healer fashion as she approaches.

"Hello Obi-Wan," she says, giving him a warm but tight smile. She moves to stand next to him, her back against the wall he's leaning against. "How is he?"

"Broken leg, dislocated shoulder, four cracked ribs, a hefty concussion, and lots of bruising and superficial wounds to go around."

She sucks in a breath. He can feel her gaze on him, but he stares forward.

"He's lucky," she says.

"No such thing," Obi-Wan sighs. "He shouldn't have even been there in the first place. I canceled our meditation for today because I had a headache. If I had just..." he lets himself trail off. Bant seems to take it upon herself to finish his sentence for him.

"You can't blame yourself, Obi."

"I don't blame--"

"But you do."

Obi-Wan draws in a slow breath through his nose and then lets it out again.

"You weren't there, Bant. I tried to stop the speeder as it fell but..."

"That takes enormous strength to overpower an out-of-control projectile. You did all you could."

"I couldn't stop it," his voice cracks like it did when he was a young padawan. Though his oldest friend is no stranger to seeing him shed tears, he isn't keen on drying in the middle of the halls.

"You did what you could," she reassures him, slipping her hand into his and squeezing firmly. "I saw the accident report. The height he was falling... Obi-Wan you very likely saved his life."

"We won't know that until he wakes up."

They told him Anakin's body is processing the trauma. He may sleep for a few hours or a few days, they aren't sure. It's the not-knowing that has Obi-Wan on edge. Though the reasonable part of his mind is telling him Bant is right-- Anakin would have perished in that ancient without his intervention-- he also is haunted by what could have been if he was not there. A shiver goes up his spine, reminding him of how numb he feels.

Bant's commlink goes off, paging her to her next task. She looks at him, as though asking permission to leave and do her job.

"I'll be okay," he says, giving her a small smile.

"I'll come to check on you in a bit," she promises. Bant pushes off the wall and starts to walk off to one of the rooms, but then she stops, turning around slowly. "I heard a rumor."

Obi-Wan raises an eyebrow. "The Temple does love spreading those."

"Two Trandosians walked into the Coruscant Police..."

"This sounds like one of those jokes--"

"They confessed to causing a horrible crash that a young boy was involved in. They were arrested on sight."

Obi-Wan stares back at her, nodding. "It sounds like they did the right thing."

Bant clicks her tongue, nodding back. "Though, I also heard they looked like they themselves were in their own accident."

"The Force works in mysterious ways."

"Hmm," is all she vocalizes before turning back around and continuing to her destination.

Obi-Wan watches her disappear into another room. Beneath the billowing sleeves of his robe, he rubs his thumb over the tender flesh of his swollen knuckles.

__________

Anakin woke up almost a full day after his accident. He woke up, surprisingly, not in pain, and to his Master sitting at his bedside looking as though he didn't dare sleep for the entire twenty-three hours. He was wrapped in so many bandages it was difficult to move but was assured even without them, his range of motion would be limited.

"This is going to be a long road, Anakin," Master Kenobi had told him while rubbing circles over the back of his hand. With all the drugs coursing through his system, even that was a hazy blur.

The pain came.

A few days later, when he was released from the halls.

He woke up in the middle of screaming while his mind replayed the progression of him falling hopelessly into the ground. He woke up feeling as though his body was being crushed, and as it turned out, it had been. Somehow seeing his leg in a cast and nearly every part of his body wrapped in bacta strips hadn't quite processed in his brain as being painful yet. Obi-Wan ran in in his night pants and undershirt twisted halfway around his body.

"Anakin what is--"

"It hurts," he bellowed, feeling like a baby for his childish whines, but his leg felt like it was being broken all over again and every cut and bruise on his arms, legs, and torso seemed to be on fire. Though his master is an adult with a beard and sixteen years of life over Anakin, he can see the inexperience and uncertainty in his tired face. He isn't sure he's ever seen Obi-Wan seem so lost, but his eyes flickering around the room searching for an answer that isn't going to be in a teenager's bedroom shows the mild panic.

"Script.. where's your medicine, Ani," he says, with feigned calmness.

"Fresher," he says, screwing his eyes shut. He hears quick footsteps to their fresher, and the water running. The next thing he knows there's a glass being pressed to his lips and a cool cloth wiping away the sweat that has beaded on his forehead. Anakin swallows the pills, hoping for immediate relief despite knowing he will have to wait. Obi-Wan leaves the cloth on his head, brushing his hair from his forehead.

"Breathe, padawan," he whispers. "I'm here."

It's words he's heard before, he realizes. When he was lying in the wreckage, somewhere in the in-between of consciousness and unconsciousness, he heard his Master's voice. It didn't make sense before. How could his master have been there?

But as his wreck has flashed before his eyes many times since it happened, something occurs to him.

"You turned the wheel." Anakin rasps.

"What?"

"You stopped the spinning. I heard you, Master." His room is shroud in darkness, only the dim light from the fresher to illuminate Master Kenobi's face, but it's enough to see the way he looks past Anakin instead of at him. "You were there."

"I really tried, Anakin. I was-- I wasn't strong enough to stop it."

The feeling of his pain melting away is a drastic shift. Anakin's eyelids grow heavy as sleep tries to pull him under. Before he does, he grabs his master's hand.

"I'm glad you were there, Master," he says, his words slurring into one another, but it's coherent enough. Sleep takes him.

Anakin still has a week before he's cleared again. A month out on medical, and he still has one more week. Though he's done four weeks of this already, a whole seven more days feels like forever. It's been a long month.

A very, very long month.

For all intents and purposes, Anakin thinks he's better now. He can walk on his leg, even jog if Obi-Wan isn't around to scold him for it. His bruises have all but faded, as has the pain. Why he has to wait so long to get back into his training is beyond him, and his master has offered no better answers than 'healer's orders, Anakin' or 'you may feel healed but some things take time'

Training to be a Jedi knight also takes time, but he doesn't seem so concerned about that, now, does he?

Anakin feels fine, and he won't fall behind for the sake of caution. Jedi take risks. When Obi-Wan leaves to go spar with Quinlan Vos, Anakin declines the invitation to come watch them, claiming he has some homework to finish. His master leaves--hesitantly. Anakin should have known homework was a poor excuse to pass up watching him spar, but he couldn't risk saying he had a headache or something and potentially push back his clear date.

He leaves the apartment, choosing the training sala that's the furthest from the knight's one. There are only a few other padawans milling about, most of them older that Anakin doesn't recognize. He chooses a station on the end that is difficult to see from the door.

The hum of his lightsaber is a sound he missed. He waves it around slow and steady to hear the buzz of the air around it getting caught in the energy field. Anakin raises it up into the first kata of form I and then moves through the different motions.

He moves through the motions, his body a little stiff but he remembers the positions well. After a few rounds, he fires up the training droid and turns it up to his usual intensity. Anakin bounces on the balls of his feet, feeling the first shot from the levitating droid before it emits from the electrodes. He moves his lightsaber to block it, imitating the second position of the form. Within seconds, the droid is sending out another shot, and then another.

While usually, this intensity is a warmup, Anakin quickly finds himself becoming overwhelmed by the rapid firing of the droid. His form quickly dissolves into frantic and sloppy blocks that send the shots in every direction. His cheeks burn a dark crimson, half from embarrassment and half from exertion at how hard his heart is beating right now. This was never so difficult! It's going so fast he doesn't have a moment to free his hand and grab the remote he stupidly left on the bench beside the sala. A few of the shots manage to break through his blocks, and he winces through the sharp jolts.

Come on, he thinks as he tries to concentrate on levitating the remote to him. The training bolts and electric shocks are distracting though, and the remote only shakes. He groans in exasperation, finally letting go of his lightsaber with one hand and stretching it out toward the remote. He is immediately bombarded with a rain of shocks that makes him stagger back.

But the remote finally soars from the bench, flying across the sala. Too fast. Anakin's eyes widen as it shoots toward him. He reaches out his hand but it sails past him and into the outstretched hand of Master Kenobi.

The training droid shuts down immediately, and Anakin drops to his knees, panting hard. He stares down at the ground, letting his too-long hair hang over his eyes so he can't see the disapproving look he is probably receiving right now.

"Padawan... what do you think you're--"

"I've done that level a hundred times," Anakin interrupts, staring at the deactivated droid. He has the sudden urge to cut it in two.

"You did that level when you were at the peak of your fitness," Obi-Wan says carefully. His voice is softer now. Anakin still doesn't look at him, but he hears him lower himself to the ground and sit across from where he kneels. "You are still recovering."

"I feel fine, though."

"Perhaps, but you must let yourself fully heal and then ease back into things. You will not be at the level you were before the accident. It will take practice, Anakin."

He finally looks at Obi-Wan. "I just want things to go back to the way they were. Where I could train and spar and stuff without feeling like a weak youngling."

"You will get there, Anakin. I know you certainly have the motivation to work hard and gain your strength back," he cocks his head to the side, his blue eyes looking over him carefully. "But you must also listen to yourself. Recovery from such injuries is not going to happen overnight."

"It's been a month!"

"Or even a month. There may be things you can never do as well again, and some things you will find could be easier now. Either way, you just have to adapt to the way things are now."

He sighs. His heartbeat is finally returning to normal and he slides down from his knees into a sitting position.

"There will be things I can't do anymore?"

"Well yes, take speeders out for joyrides being one of them."

Anakin rolls his eyes. "So I'll never fly again, is what you're saying."

Obi-Wan smiles and shakes his head. "I'm not an imbecile, Anakin. I know how much you like flying and I know you've been doing this for a while... thinking I don't know."

His eyes widen. "You knew?"

"Yes. Just like I knew you certainly weren't doing homework this afternoon. You'd be surprised the things I let you get away with."

"Let me?" he echos in awe.

"Beside the point. You can still take the speeders out, Anakin," Anakin jumps back to his knees with glee, a huge smile spreading across his face.

"Really, Master?"

"But you must tell me when you're going."

"Okay!"

"And always answer your commlink and keep your beacon on."

"I answer my--" Obi-Wan raises an eyebrow. Anakin trails off, his cheeks flushing. Okay fine, "I'll answer my commlink."

"Good. Then we have a deal." The Jedi Knight rises from the ground, looking down at Anakin with twinkling eyes. "Care to practice some Ataru katas with me, padawan?"

"You mean--"

"I figure some simple katas can't hurt more than the electroshocks from the droid," he smirks. "And I won't tell Master Che if you won't."

The padawan grins and jumps to his feet. Already, he feels a new pool of energy filling his body. The Master and Padawan ignite their sabers and synchronously them back into the starting position of form IV.

#febuwhump #febuwhump2021 #febuwhumpday27 #recovery #anakin skywalker #obi-wan kenobi #bant eerin #part 2! #because it was much easier to do a continuation than to make up another reason for needing to be recovering #work smarter not harder

[mst3kproject]

The Atomic Submarine

I’ve had this one sitting around for a while. It’s a pretty dull 1950’s White Men vs the Saucer People movie, which attempts to differentiate itself from the crowd by taking place underwater instead of in outer space.  It features Brett Halsey from The Girl in Lover’s Lane and a few moments of Jean Moorhead from The Violent Years, and has parts for Jack Mulhall and Paul Dubov from The She-Creature.

It is… the future.  The US and the USSR are friends now, and passenger submarines regularly run between the two under the polar ice!  But all is not well – the USS Sturgeon, largest of this arctic fleet, suffers a reactor meltdown somewhere just shy of the North Pole, resulting in the loss of all hands.  The Pentagon convenes some guys in suits, and decides to send another submarine, the Tiger Shark, to figure out what happened.  When the Tiger Shark encounters a mysterious electrical phenomenon, their scientists conclude that the only possible answer is creatures from outer space!

I seem to be making a tradition out of starting with the shitty science, so here’s a good one: the Flying Saucer’s source of power is stated to be magnetic – that’s why it has to return to the North Pole every time it sinks a ship, to recharge.  Except… that’s not how the magnetic field works.  In the late fifties and early sixties, the north magnetic pole was somewhere near the southern end of Bathurst Island in Nunavut (as of 2020, it’s on its way into Siberia and is actually closer to geographic north than it’s been in centuries).  Sailors would definitely know that, making this plot point kind of hilarious to anybody actually in the navy.

I mentioned Moorhead… she and Joi Lansing (who was once in a movie called Queen of Outer Space) are the only women in the entire movie.  They occur in the same scene, which seems to serve only to remind us that women exist, and have no effect on the plot whatsoever.  Once we’ve entered the submarine where most of the film is set, the cast is entirely similar-looking guys in uniforms, and there are no romantic reunions at the end.  The Atomic Submarine couldn’t even give us the requisite 50’s movie Cute Girl Scientist.  I guess they were going for realism in their story about trans-arctic Soviet passenger subs and one-eyed semi-aquatic aliens.

On to the actual movie.  The first ‘character’ we hear from is the deep-voiced 50’s narrator, who sounds exactly like the guy rhapsodizing about radar at the beginning of The Deadly Mantis, but I looked him up and Patrick Michaels has never narrated any other movie.  I guess there’s just a category of men that have 50’s Movie Narrator Voice. His job is to sound portentous as he talks about things that are either irrelevant or else stuff the movie could have showed us but chose to tell instead.  He falls silent for long stretches of movie and then pops up again, interrupting the flow of the story every time.

The special effects in The Atomic Submarine are okay – they’re nothing ground-breaking, but considerable effort seems to have gone into them.  The saucer and the submarines are obviously small models but they’re nice and the underwater photography is quite atmospheric.  I especially like the little submersible the Tiger Shark carries, the Lungfish, which was clearly designed based on ideas for such machines that were in the works at the time.  There’s a shot of the saucer breaking through the ice cap and rising into the air which looks really good until the saucer itself actually emerges, wobbling on top of a rod.  The one-eyed alien inside the saucer is nice and gooey and parts of it look like they’re made out of living sea creatures.

Like many movies on MST3K, The Atomic Submarine has some germs of good ideas in it, and like the rest of them, fails to do anything much with it.  The flying saucer – maybe we should call it a swimming saucer – is described as a living organism, possibly the same organism as its pilot.  The aliens themselves are biological engineers who will use humans as a template for altering themselves to live on Earth.  That’s pretty cool, but is ultimately not important to the plot. Besides the pilot, who seems to have been assembled by a variety of marine organisms, the inside of the saucer doesn’t look particularly organic.  If nothing else they had an opportunity for some really neat visuals here, but let it slip through their fingers.

The alien intelligence remains unseen and inscrutable for much of the movie.  This theoretically builds suspense but there’s honestly not a lot of suspense here. A plot summary makes The Atomic Submarine sound like an exciting adventure, but the impression one gets from actually watching the film is that it’s kind of a day at the office.  In a way, that’s fairly realistic – the crew of the Tiger Shark aren’t a ragtag group of misfits, they’re professionals doing their jobs which just so happen on this particular day to include saving the world.  Unfortunately, this doesn’t make for a very exciting movie.  An awful lot of scenes are just suspenseful music over footage of men in uniforms frowning at things.  Rather than feeling any excitement, the audience just wants to get to the damn aliens already.

The movie’s only about half over by the time we do enter the swimming saucer to meet the one-eyed, tentacled beast within, but it feels like we’ve been here for hours.  Once the boarding party enters the craft, some things do happen but they’re still not exciting.  Three of the four men die, one by being cut in half by a sliding door and two getting melted by intense radiation – these deaths are surprisingly explicit and gruesome for a 50’s movie, but they’re drawn out far too long and don’t serve a plot purpose.  If the alien killed the men to stop them cutting the Tiger Shark free of where it rammed the vessel’s hull, that would be one thing, but it appears to do it just because.

The main characters all sort of look the same, as lumpy-faced white guys in old movies tend to do.  The only one who really stands out from the crowd is Dr. Nielson, the son of the scientist who invented the Lungfish and an avowed pacifist who’s only on this mission because he knows his father wanted to see the sub used.  He has a running beef with an old friend of his father’s who thinks he’s a coward, all talk and no action.  This is supposed to be the movie’s main arc and yet it fails to go anywhere on just about every level.

Neilson spends much of the movie insisting that he isn’t a coward, which one would assume is a lead-up to him doing something heroic.  It’s not. He’s just here to drive the Lungfish and that’s literally the only thing he does – he takes the boarding party to the saucer, and then sits there and waits for the sole survivor to return.  There’s a bit where the captain of the Tiger Shark decides to ram the saucer with the sub in order to get through its defenses, and Neilson speaks up, pointing out that this is a suicide mission.  Nothing ever comes of this, and it might be evidence of his ‘cowardice’ but I’m not sure… the movie is not nearly as interested in his character as it ought to be.  At the end he seems to have decided that war is cool after all… or maybe the guy he was arguing about has agreed that we need to set aside war with other humans in order to focus on war with aliens.  It’s very unclear.

If there’s a regular passenger service between Alaska and Siberia, doesn’t that suggest that in this future we’ve already set aside war with other humans?  I’m not sure this movie thought very hard about its worldbuilding.

In fact, watching the ending I don’t even know if the guy Neilson talks to at the end was the same man he was arguing with earlier, because, as I mentioned, the actors all look similar. Until that final conversation I thought the other dude had died aboard the saucer and honestly I’m still not convinced he didn’t.  What mainly makes me doubt the idea is that it would mean there’s no closure to the feud at all, which would be the height of poor writing.  I’ve seen movies where I would buy that they were just that careless, but other aspects of The Atomic Submarine are competent enough that I want to give them the benefit of the doubt.

So what does this movie want us to think about war and the military?  It certainly suggests that they’re necessary, since after all we have aliens to defend ourselves from.  One of the scientists on board is British and another has what I think is supposed to be a Russian accent, so perhaps its extolling the virtues of international cooperation.  This would fit with Neilson’s statements about how we need to leave war behind, but if that’s the movie’s point it hobbles itself by never talking about it in that light.

This is all made that much more annoying because, as I said, the effects are decent, the cinematography is pretty good, and while none of the actors are stellar they all do their best.  There’s no real reason why The Atomic Submarine had to be so dull and messy, unless they were just saddled with a half-assed script. Even then, they made a pretty good effort to get some gold out of the dross.  You might find The Atomic Submarine worth watching even if only to think about what might have been.

#mst3k #reviews #episodes that never were #the atomic submarine #50s

[stillchaoticlogic]

Stumbling: Chapter 10

Pairing: Raihan X Reader X Leon

Your life hadn’t gone exactly as you planned…

This is why when an old rival walks into the coffee shop you work at he gives you an offer you just can’t refuse. Finally, a chance at the League. Suddenly you are thrust into the spotlight and a world you thought you had left behind. Dreams aren’t always what they are cracked up to be though, especially when you find yourself the tangled up with the champion and a certain gym leader.

Has all your dreams come true?

Or is this your worst nightmare?

Masterlist

Chapter 10: Hit Me with Your Best Shot You gaze into the sunrise taking in the colors with your sweater wrapped around you for warmth. Zuko lays curled next to you as a source of heat and protection, the little fire lizard yawns and stretches as he blinks up at you. You glance down at him as you giggle to yourself and pull a few berries out for him to eat. He happily snatched them from your hands and eats them as he too watches the colors dance across the morning sky. You had been up for a couple of hours now, allowing the guys to get some sleep. 

You watch as the quiet is broken by the Pokémon in the tall grass and the little pond slowly stirring to start their day. You are a little surprised when an apple is suddenly sitting next to you, also gazing up into the sunset. You blink as you look down at it and it turns to look at you. 

“An Applin…” you mutter to yourself. 

“Your Applin,” says a voice behind you. 

You whip your head around and you’re surprised to see Raihan sitting in the entrance to the tent. 

“My Applin?” You ask turning to fully face him.

“I caught him for you yesterday, I figured he would be a good addition to your team and…”

“And?”

“And I wanted you to know that I’ll always be here for you. I know you have a lot going on right now so I don’t expect you to…”

“To what, Rai?”

“Return my-“ Raihan is interrupted as Leon shoves him aside and walks out of the tent yawning. 

“Hey what was that for?!” Raihan yells after his friend and rival. 

“You were blocking the exit of the tent,” Leon says innocently, maybe a little too innocently.

You glance back and forth between the two of them in confusion. 

“What is going on between you two?” You ask in exasperation.

“Nothing!” They both exclaim a bit too forcefully. 

“Whatever, let’s eat breakfast and get going,” you grumble to them. 

The air is filled with the sounds of Raihan packing up the tent, Leon feeding the pokemon and you fixing breakfast for the three of you. Oatmeal is your breakfast of choice today, so while it’s cooking you chop up some berries, get the seasoning ready as well any other topping you have on hand. 

“We’re going to need to grab food while we are in Hulbury,” you tell the guys. 

They just grunt in answer as they continue to focus on the task at hand. You have a feeling that whatever is going on between the two of them is a big part of the silence. You ignore them as you complete your task and announce that breakfast is ready. They finish up quickly before they rush over to grab their respective bowls. 

The three of you set out towards Hulbury the minute that the dishes are washed and put away. You gaze up at the blue sky as you walk along a little behind the duo. The clouds in the sky lazily float over the sun casting shadows every once in a while. Your newest team member is resting on your shoulder while he chirps up at the sky, clearly happy to travel along with you. 

“What are you going to name him?” Raihan asks, clearly enjoying the sight of the Applin he got you resting on your shoulder. 

“I don’t know… I’ve been thinking about it all morning.”

You think you hear Leon huff from in front of you and Raihan but you decide not to pay him any attention. 

Raihan sends him a look before he returns his attention to you. 

“So Raihan…” you start glancing over at the Dragon trainer beside you, “You know about the rumor for Applin right?” 

He glances over at you, “Sure do.”

You just nod with a soft blush on your face, “Okay I wanted to make sure…”

“Don’t worry princess, I gave him to you on purpose, but things are crazy now and…”

“I know…”

“It’s cool if you don’t feel the same you can still keep him…”

“I don’t really know how I feel… things have been very overwhelming recently.”

“I understand.”

“How about… once the League challenge is over we… talk about this more?” You ask hesitantly.

“I’d like that… Plus I technically can’t get involved with competitors soooo…”

You laugh, “So what was the point of this?”

“I want you to know that you’re supported and no matter what you have someone even when this is all over.”

“Thanks, Raihan. I needed to hear that… I’ve been doing everything on my own for so long that it’s nice to know that I have someone there for me…”

You share a smile with Raihan as he slings his arm around your shoulder. You notice how stiff Leon’s shoulders are and you wonder what has gotten into him lately. 

Hulbury is upon you by the afternoon and you head to the pokemon center to get your Pokemon healed up. You notice a few shady characters loitering around the alleys as you exit the center and head towards the gym. A crowd outside of the arena blocks the entrance and you raise your brows as you watch a kid rush out and smirk at the crowd. 

“Fan favorite?” you wonder aloud as you watch the kid sign autographs and give an interview to the reporters standing by. 

You continue your way toward the doors and you’re surprised when shouts of “There she is!” rise up among the crowd. Before you know it they are rushing towards you and you are surrounded by a group of fans and reporters are shoving a microphone into your face. You blink in surprise as you are bombarded with questions. You can feel yourself being overwhelmed as you stumble back. 

“Hey!” A forceful voice cuts through the crowd and everyone stops to stare in shock at Nessa standing on the front steps of her gym. 

“Could you give my challenger some room please?” she asks in an icy voice as she approaches you, the crowd parts like the sea as she does so.

You heave a sigh of relief as you smile at your friend, “Thanks,” you mutter as you step in line beside her. 

“Don’t mention it!” She says as she makes her way into the gym the reporters and crowd following closely behind in order to watch the battle that will soon unfold. 

You head over to registration after waving bye to your friend and get signed in. You find out there are a couple of challengers in front of you so you head to the locker room to wait your turn. 

Sitting on the bench watching the battles take place on screen you almost don’t notice the person that plops down next to you. 

“Well look who it is!”

 Turning you to your right you see Sonia sitting next to you.

“When did you get there?!” you exclaim in surprise. 

“A minute ago! Nessa has been helping me with some research but when she texted me that you were challenging her I knew I had to come to see you for myself!”

You chuckle as you gaze up at the screen showing the battle taking place before you. You sigh as you look down at your team on your belt. 

“Nervous?” Sonia asks. 

“Yeah… Things have been a lot lately… And Raihan kinda just confessed to me…”

“Raihan?! Really? What about-”

“Challenger (Name)! You’re up next please take your place,” a referee interrupts. 

“I’ll talk to you later okay? I have a battle to win.”

“O-kay…” 

You don’t pay attention to Sonia as you rush to the starting area and race to complete the puzzle to get you there. 

By the time you make it to the arena, your clothes are sopping wet and you basically feel like a drowned Ratatta…  

You shiver as a gust of air from the interlock doors assault your senses before you make your way down the hallway towards the field. Once you step out onto the green you feel yourself straighten up as you head towards the center at the same time that Nessa is. You meet in the middle and shake hands before turning and walking towards your respective sides. 

“I’ve been waiting for you, you know…”

“Oh? Why is that?”

“You’re Leon’s chosen one, so clearly you must be good! Don’t worry though, I’m better,” she says with a smirk while she flips her hair over her shoulder. 

“We’ll see about that…” you smirk as you ready your first pokemon. 

Nessa sends our Goldeen as you release Axel your sweet baby throwing his fists onto the ground as he regards the fish Pokemon before him. 

“Axel, are you ready to play? Acid!”

“Goldeen! Use Agility then Water Pulse!”

You see sparks jumping from Axel’s skin before he sprays the general area with the acid. Goldeen dodges just in time and hits Axel with a blast of water. He Flails about out of habit hitting Goldeen and sending her to the ground. 

“Nuzzle!” you yell as the fish pokemon leaps up. 

Axel throws his arms out and wraps them around the fish Pokemon sending electric currents through her body. 

“Whirlpool! You have to get away!”

“Acid! Spray the water!”

You watch as the poison from Axel’s Acid attack mixes with the water swirling around the two of them. They both get swept up into the current, however, due to the paralysis and the poison now running through Goldeen’s system she is rendered useless. Once the whirlpool has subsided both pokemon lands harshly on the floor and you wait with bated breath to see if one of them is getting up. 

Axel sits up and shakes his head, water flying everywhere with a look of confusion. 

“Round one goes to (Name)!”

“Yes!” you exclaim as you throw your hands up and Axel throws his fists into the air. 

“Not bad… Let’s see how you handle Arrokuda!” Nessa releases her next pokemon and you know that Axel can’t survive this battle as well. Hopefully, he will be able to paralysis his opponent before you switch him out. 

“I know what you’re thinking!” Nessa says, “And it’s not going to work!”

“You don’t know what I’m thinking…”

“Don’t I? Aquajet Arrokuda!”

You curse under your breath, “Acid then Nuzzle, Axel!”

You know that Axel’s speed isn’t anything near this Arrokuda’s so your only hope is to slow it down. 

Dodging the acid from Axel Arrokuda slows down enough for Axel to catch him right as he’s hit with a Nuzzle. Axel falls backward knocked out from the move and you frown as you call him back. 

“Great job sweet boy… you deserve a nap.”

“Not bad… you still managed to get me…”

You frown, “I was hoping he would have survived at least one attack, your Arrokuda is stronger than I thought…”

“Serenity! Let’s go!”

Serenity readies herself as she glares at her opponent. 

“Bite Arrokuda!”

“Oh no, you don’t! Confusion then Magical Leaf!”

The attack knocks Arrokuda back as the paralyzed pokemon attempts to get up leaves whip up from nowhere and fly towards the fish pokemon. She takes a direct hit and is down for the count. 

“Impressive…”

“Oh, I’m just getting started…”

“Now we’re talking! Drednaw, go!”

“Return Serenity! Go Arum!”

Arum your Steenee dances across the field as the Drednaw roars.

“You ready?” Nessa asks.

You can hear the music pick up and the fans are already going wild for the Dynamax battle about to happen. 

“Let’s do this…”

Your bands activate and both of you return your pokemon before the Pokeball enlarges and you throw it behind you. Arum is released and grows about 10 times her normal size. She thrills as she glares at the roaring Pokemon before her. 

“Max Overgrowth!”

“Max Geyser!”

Both Pokemon release their moves simultaneously. You watch as the root-like vines fight to cut through the cannon of water blasting at it. You smile as the floor becomes grassy and flowers blossom right before your eyes. 

“AGAIN!” you yell hoping that Arum has what it takes to overtake the Drednaw before her. She dances around missing another blast of the Geyser just as it begins to rain. She sends the vines across the field with a direct hit sending out a shockwave of explosions as the Drednaw shrinks to its normal size before returning to its home. 

You laugh as you leap into the air in excitement before you turn to Arum who is shrinking to regular size again. She runs up to you and jumps into your arms as Serenity pops from her Pokeball to join in on the hugging as well. 

“We got our second badge!” 

“Great job, (Name). I knew that Leon’s original rival had to be something. Looking forward to battling you in the finals!” 

You take the badge from Nessa and the two of you shake hands as you give her a watery smile. Suddenly overcome with emotion you hide your face from the cameras as you make your way off the field. You throw your fist into the air one more time and grin as the crowd goes wild.

You inhale the sea air as you step out of the gym. You aren’t surprised when several people flock to you and for once you’re prepared for the onslaught. Kids ask for your autograph and you’re surprised at how many young women call you an inspiration. Young men blush as they ask for your autograph and several ask how Davine and Hades are doing. 

“When are we going to get to see them battle!?” a little girl of 10 asks. 

“When they are ready. Davine went through a lot and while she’s definitely improving I’m afraid the arena may be too much for her, same with Hades. He can’t see so loud noises still disorient him. They both need more training before I bring them out for a league battle.”

“That makes sense… I didn’t think of that… But they are doing good?”

“Yes! They are doing well!”

“You should put up videos on your trainer account!” says a fifteen-year-old girl. 

“Huh? My what?”

“Your trainer account! All trainers have one! It’s connected to your ID number so that fans can keep track of you on social media! You can upload pictures and videos of you and your pokemon!”

“Oh… Can you show me?”

“Sure!”

 She takes your phone and shows you the app and how to use it. She asks you to pull out your badges so you hand them to her. She holds the ring up to the sky, so the blue is the background and snaps a picture. You watch fascinated as she captions the post and tags it before she posts the photo. 

“Seems simple enough…”

“Here! I’ll follow you!” She says happily as she pulls her own phone out, “The names Sunny!”

“Me too!”

“Same!”

“Post great updates!”

You’re surprised when the entire crowd pulls out their phones to follow you and you’re pretty surprised to watch the count go up right before your eyes. In less than a minute you have about 50 followers. You chuckle when you notice both Leon and Raihan’s username float across your screen. 

“She’s being followed by the Champion! And Raihan!”

“Hey look! Nessa too!” 

You chuckle as Raihan comments, “About time!” on your photo. 

“The second badge already?!” comments Leon.

“They’re commenting!!!!” squeals one of the girls. 

You laugh as you turn back to Sunny, “Thanks for your help! How do I follow you back?”

She happily shows you how to follow people and you smile as you follow back everyone in the area and thank them for their support. 

“We’re rooting for you!”

“You’re going to crush them in the finals!”

You giggle as you walk away from the fans and head towards the hotel that you are staying in. You are greeted by Leon and Raihan as you walk in through the door. 

“TA-DA!” They exclaim as they show you the celebratory spread they bought. 

“Wow!! So much food!”

“We wanted to surprise you, plus the seafood here is the best!” Leon says. 

“And what if I had lost?”

“Food always works both ways! In celebration or in comfort! It’s always a win-win!” Raihan chuckles. 

“True! Let’s eat!” 

You all sit down at the table and eat to your heart’s content. For the first time, the past few days things between Leon and Raihan seem to be at least at peace. You decide not to question it and just enjoy the moment. Right now you are victorious and one step closer to being the champion. 

“Kabu is next, you think you’re ready?” Raihan asks. 

“I need to get Nile ready for that battle.” 

“Do you think Nile can take Kabu’s team by himself?” Leon asks. 

“Not right now… I may have to test the waters with Hades or Serenity.”

“You’ll figure it out!” Leon says encouragingly. 

“I know but I think it would be good to take some time and train a little before we head to the next gym.”

“Whatever you need Princess…” Raihan says with a smile. 

You feel yourself blush remembering your earlier conversation with Raihan. 

“Whatever I need? What if I need an Ice stone?” you joke.

“Then your wish is our command.”

You chuckle at him. 

Glancing up you notice the way that Leon seems upset and refuses to meet your eyes. He’s playing with his food and you can’t help but wonder what is bothering him. 

Your thoughts are interrupted by a knock on the door. You get up and open the door to find Sonia and Nessa on the other side. 

“Hey! We heard there’s food!” Sonia says as she makes her way into the room. 

“Plenty for everyone!” Raihan exclaims as he pulls you back down beside him, “Even if my plans to seduce you are ruined…”

“Raihan!” you yelp as you swat at him. 

He laughs as he lets you go and you notice the look that Nessa is sending you. 

‘Get that,’ she mouths before taking a bite of the shrimp on her plate. 

You roll your eyes with a shake of your head. 

You all fall into easy banter and you have to admit it’s nice having the girls around. 

“You know when I’ve had enough of the testosterone, the three of us should go on an adventure. Girls only!” you joke as you take a bite of the kale salad before you. 

“Hey, that’s a great idea! You can help me with my research!” Sonia exclaims.

“Plus the challengers will be finished in a month or so I could use an adventure!”

“Plus the guys are going to eventually have to back to their duties, Raihan’s going to have challengers to battle,” Sonia reasons. 

“Are you two suggesting that I leave my favorite girl to fend for herself?” Raihan asks with false outrage. 

“She can handle herself!” Nessa exclaims, “We’ll be there too!”

“No. It’s too dangerous,” Leon says in an angry tone. 

You all look over to Leon, who had been quiet up until this moment.

“Leon…” Sonia starts. 

“I said no,” he says before he gets up and storms from the room.

“What just happened?” asked Nessa looking after the champion. 

Sonia frowns before she gets up to follow behind him. A moment after she disappears behind the door you all hear the two of them arguing before Sonia bursts from the room looking angrier than you’ve ever seen her before. 

“Let’s go, Nessa,” She says as she makes her way to the door, “I’ll call you later (Name).”

You and Raihan blink as you look from one door to the next. 

“What the hell…” you grumble as you begin to clean up the plates. 

“Hey, I got it… why don’t you go check on grumpy? I have a feeling he wants to talk to you…”

“I don’t think so…”

“He does… Go talk to him.”

You frown before you knock hesitantly on the door before you enter. Leon is sitting on the bed with his back to the door. 

“Leon… what’s wrong?” you ask in a small voice. 

He heaves a heavy sigh, “I’m sorry… I ruined your night…”

“I don’t care about that… I just want to know you’re okay…”

“I’m not…”

“Why? What happened? Is it you and Sonia? Did you break up? What just happened?”

“Break up? Sonia and I are just friends…”

“What do you mean? Aren’t you two together?”

“No! I don’t see her like that! She’s like my sister!”

“But… when we were younger…”

“I lied…”

“You lied?”

“That day you asked me who I liked I lied to you because I was too afraid to tell you how I felt.”

“How you felt?”

“I had the biggest crush on you when we were younger… I regretted not telling you how I felt after I set out on my journey so I promised myself that once we faced one another in the league that I would tell you how I felt…”

“But I never made it…”

“No… And then when I came back home you weren’t there and no one knew where you were… Your parents didn’t even know…”

“I remember that year… You wouldn’t have liked me very much then… I didn’t like me very much then…”

“I would have liked you… I have for a very long time.”

“Leon…”

“Raihan confessed… If you want me to leave so that…”

“No, I don’t want you to leave! How could you say that?”

“Don’t you want to be with him?”

“I don’t… know what I want…” 

“I made this whole thing worse didn’t I?”

“No… I just want us all to be together… Things can’t change right now, there is too much at stake.”

“You’re right… We have a band of thieves to apprehend and you have finals to get to.”

You chuckle as you look away…

“I had a crush on you too…”

“Had?”

“I thought you liked Sonia! I thought you wanted to be with her and you finally got what you want so I don’t really know how to feel right now.”

“If I could go back and tell young me…”

“Stop… We wouldn’t be who are today if anything had happened any differently. Our paths have shaped us and it’s not always been an easy path, but I love who I am in this moment with the people that I care about supporting me. I wouldn’t change my shitty life for anything ever.”

“Only you…”

You just shrug as you smirk at him, “Good night Leon. Oh and apologize to Sonia for yelling at her.”

He winces as he recalls his earlier actions, “Will do… Good night…”

You step out the door and Raihan is waiting on the other side. 

“So now you know our secret…”

“That’s what you two have been fighting about? Me?”

“We both like you, but we both want to make sure you’re safe. So we’ve just been co-existing while trying to get you to figure it out. You’re kinda dense when it comes to flirting you know that right?”

“I literally thought you were joking this entire time…”

Raihan chuckled, “Nope! Dragons always go for what they want Princess and believe me when I say I want you. I know you have history with Leon, but trust me when I say I’m not giving up to a man who didn’t have the balls to asks you out when he had the chance.”

“I believe you Raihan.”

“Good, now let’s head to bed, you’ve got training in the morning and I have to prove I’m the better man for you.”

You roll your eyes as he winks at you, but you can’t help the giggle that escapes as you head to your own room. When you pull out your forgotten phone from your bag you notice two text messages one for Sonia and one from Nessa. 

Sonia: You know that Leon likes you right?

Nessa: You know that Raihan likes you right?

You heave an exhausted sigh, “Thanks for the heads up ladies…”

You flop back onto your bed and close your eyes vaguely wondering what the future will hold now that everything is out in the open.

Notes: So a lot happened... Thoughts? Opinions? Concerns? Names for our sweet Applin? What does this mean for our crew? Things are probably going to get worse before they better... I’m just saying... BUT you should like and comment and reblog! As always if you want to be tagged drop an ask! I look forward to hearing your thoughts! Also, this isn’t fully edited... I was excited to get it out tonight...

@Ichigokage @pinktowne @marina-and-the-memes @ssskeletonsoffun @secretly-a-weeb @duizhangdeluxe @swiftly-heart @invaderbekk @crowkie @narees17 @skinklady @nerdyeldritchhorror @wthyuta @serendipityseoul @crescentrax @ninjarose23 @chiizwiz @cherryrocks505 @just-a-dregular @bonniestreet @theofficialkanekibarbie @maryry24 @zea-is-amazing @loch-monsta @artisticchihuahua @hadeselegy @rociomz @emeraldluna

@shinsvu-talks @eeveesjourney @cherryrocks505 @exoticxchicken8 @spilltheearlgrey @marydragneell @quincymaru @zebrabaker @ct9ner

#pokemon #pokemon fanfiction #pokemon scenarios #pokemon leon #pokemon imagines #pokemon sword and shield #pokemon swsh #love triangle #leon #leon x reader #raihan #pokemon raihan #raihan imagines #raihan x reader #champion leon #champion leon x reader #stumbling

[absentlyabbie]

 The Narrative Mechanics of Kissing

booklovers au

@storiesofimagination​ prompted me for this au and “first kiss” and got, well, 10 pages of... this. enjoy :)

------

Tommy hunched over the keyboard, brow furrowed and fingers flying, deep in the zone as he drafted the next scene of his current manuscript. Perhaps it was the creative influx of innovating a new corner of the genre, but he felt like a live wire, harnessed, all intensity and electric force funneled to a purpose.

He was focus distilled, passion refined, a towering inferno of zeal and concentration—

Behind him, stifled laughter exploded inelegantly against a suppressing palm, and Tommy blinked hard, sitting up with a sharp and startled breath.

Snapped abruptly out of the escalator of flowery synonyms that had  been running in the back of his head, Tommy looked at the screen and frowned hard. 

“Wha…? That can’t be right,” he muttered, incredulous at the three slim paragraphs gracing an otherwise blank page. He would have sworn he’d written thousands, pages of words.

Another muffled laugh ended with a snort, and Tommy rolled his eyes heavenward and swiveled his chair to direct his frown at the blonde lying on his couch. Felicity had her bare feet propped against the armrest, hair spread golden and curling across the cushion. Pink lips pressed in a bitten grin, cheeks red as she swallowed another giggle, eyes focused on the several stapled pages she held over her head.

“Okay,” he drawled dryly, “I know I’m a master of wit and all, but I know for a fact nothing that funny happens in that chapter.”

Felicity jolted like she’d forgotten about him, to his stifled annoyance, and she lifted herself on one elbow and lay the pages on her stomach. “Um.” She snuck a finger under her glasses to wipe dampness from her lashes. “Not intentionally funny, no.”

His head pulled back, brows jumping high in affront. “Excuse me?”

“Oh,” Felicity winced, but there was still a smile in it. “Do you want me to lie and massage your ego?”

Tommy’s mouth worked and cheeks burned, speechless for a moment with equal parts embarrassment and wounded pride. He swallowed it manfully and cleared his throat. “Of course not. You are here as an editor, and I am a fully grown man.” He made a wheeling motion with his hand. “Spit it out. What’s so funny?”

She pushed herself up and swung her legs around to fold them on the cushions, propping her elbows on her knees and leaning forward. She lifted the pages in front of her and cleared her throat before dramatically reading out, “‘Annie melted against the hard planes of the vigilante’s leather-clad body as his lips crushed against hers. Her skin was electric under his touch, the commanding press of his mouth intoxicating. Her lips parted on a gasp, and his tongue swept into her mouth, battling her own for domination.’” She looked up at him over her glasses, one eyebrow sharply arched. “Do you need me to go on?”

Arms folding defensively, Tommy leaned back in his chair, one leg sticking out long. “What’s wrong with it? That scene is barely even starting.”

Felicity scoffed, eyes rolling and lips curved sardonically. “Oh trust me, I know, it gets worse from here.”

His shoulders hunched and he would be lying if he said that didn’t sting, a little. “I’m gonna need you to be more specific.”

She sighed longsufferingly, her posture deflating and back collapsing into the couch. “It’s so…” her hand wheeled in the air, nose wrinkling as she chose her word. “Cheesy .”

Tommy’s jaw set, irritation and surprise tightening his shoulders and the fists tucked under his elbows. “You’re aware that this is romance. I know that’s not your preferred genre for personal reading, but cheesy is kind of part of the landscape. I’ve put up with plenty of condescending criticism about the lack of literary merits to my chosen field, but I have to say I didn’t expect it from you.”

Felicity’s brows raised, the look she gave him cool. “Are you done? Because that is not what I meant. This isn’t romance-genre-hallmark cheesy, it’s just… not good kissing.”

His reflexive genre-defensiveness dropped at that astounding pronouncement and he leaned forward, hands gripping his armrests, face incredulous. “What? What’s wrong with it! You usually like my kissing, you have specifically noted how hot my sexy scenes are.”

Felicity sat up again primly. “And most of the time they are, especially when you’re not falling back on outdated phrasing and boring gender tropes from the eighties and nineties.”

“Outdated…?” Tommy repeated, affronted. He pulled in a deep breath through his nose, pushing down his temper. “Okay. Break it down for me. Tell me exactly what’s so wrong about it.”

“Gladly,” Felicity chirped, raising the pages again. “I mean, firstly, the whole thing where all of a sudden Cris is super dominating and aggressive, it kinda really threw me. Especially since Annie is just, like, totally into it? Makes no sense for who you’ve been establishing them to be. It’s just totally cut-and-paste lead-couple dynamics. I’m not trying to say you phoned this one in, but I know damn well you can do better by them.”

Tommy worked his jaw back and forth, trying to mull over her points and not just be annoyed at them. “So… you think their attitudes should be different.”

“Yes ,” Felicity enthused, eyes alight. “Cris has all this trauma and these hangups about his self worth and, like, smoldering-but-wounded intensity, right? So why is he this hypermasculine dominator all of a sudden? And how is that a thing that gets Annie off? Everything you’ve done with her so far, even with you being all deliberately obscure about her personal history, I would have expected her to instantly and firmly rebuff this kind of aggression, not…” her nose wrinkled again, “melt .”

Tommy propped his chin on his interlaced fingers, squinting thoughtfully over her argument. He exhaled heavily, nodding. “Okay, I get where you’re coming from. I guess I was just trying to give the reader what I thought would excite them in a sexy-superhero-romance first kiss, and I sidelined the actual characters in that. So… I guess Cris would be less looming and more…”

He bit at his bottom lip, groping blindly in his head for the word he wanted.

“Sensual?” Felicity offered.

“Sensual,” Tommy agreed. “And maybe even kind of tentative. Not sure if she was feeling what he was feeling.”

“Right.” Felicity nodded excitedly. “Absolutely. Especially since she doesn’t even know who he is under the hood yet, and honestly I wasn’t gonna bring it up now, but it seems way too early for the first kiss to me, like the dynamic should grow more and be more push-pull for a bit?” She lifted her hands and shook her head, cutting off her runaway train of thought. “But that’s a different, plot-and-pacing conversation, and we are discussing the narrative mechanics of kissing.”

Tommy watched her flip through the pages, mentally shelving his questions about her issues with the pacing to focus on one thing at a time. “Speaking of, you said it was bad kissing. The gender dynamics and out of character stuff I get, but how is the actual kissing bad?”

The face Felicity pulled was almost pitying. “When was the last time you enjoyed someone trying to ‘battle’ your tongue for dominance?” She even made air quotes.

Tommy opened his mouth, tilted his head. Directed his eyes towards the ceiling and memory.

“Exactly,” Felicity supplied smugly. “Bad kissing. I mean, literally think about it. Are they surrendering to physical chemistry and an unspoken connection, or are they fighting over possession of a peppermint?”

Tommy grimaced. “Point taken.” Then, skeptically, “Is that all, though?”

The scrunch of her mouth was almost apologetic.

Tommy flopped back in his chair, head rolling as he released a groan. “What else?”

“Their staging is kinda weird?”

He lifted his head and squinted at her. “Staging?”

“You know, the positions they’re in.” She shifted her torso to one side, hands raised in some configuration she seemed to think was a demonstration. “Like, how they’re standing, the ways they’re touching.”

Tommy squinted more squintily, this time at the wall to his left. He tried to reconstruct the scene in question in his head. “But what’s wrong with it? It’s a classic up-against-a-wall scenario. It’s sexy and intense and it has been turning people on in books and movies and TV for...” he gestured vaguely at the air, “ever.”

“Eh,” Felicity shrugged one shoulder, instantly dismissing a staple of steamy kisses everywhere. “They’re in a chilly alley in the middle of the night, and earlier in the chapter you said it rained. And I mean, maybe a nice, plaster-and-paint indoors wall isn’t so bad, but bricks or cement or whatever? Ew, and also ow.”

“Fair,” Tommy conceded. He wheeled his hand at her. “I know you’ve got more, so hit me.”

The lip-tucked smile she shot him was attempting apology and utterly failing. “The standing thing. Like. Cris is what? Six feet tall? And how tall is Annie?”

“Like five-foot-five.”

Felicity stared at the carpet and poked the tip of her tongue out, thinking. “So roughly my height.” Her gaze pulled to the side, the purse of her lips following it. “That’s a really awkward height difference for that position, right? My neck hurts imagining it.”

Tommy frowned, humming. “I don’t know, I think it would work fine.”

She looked at him skeptically. “Is he bending at the knees or something? Is she standing on a box?”

“Okay, I think we’re getting too bogged down in the practical details nobody is reading this for.” He sighed at her arched brows. “Except you.”

“It can’t only be me,” she drawled, unconvinced. “Stuff like that totally takes me out of the story because I do end up bogged down in practical details that aren’t working. I’m trying to imagine the scene, I want to picture it in my head. Like, I should be caught up in envisioning the sexiness, right? Except I’m trying to block it on my mental stage, and all I can picture is his neck at a ninety degree angle and her head tilted straight back like a baby bird receiving a worm.”

“Gross,” Tommy belted, laughing. “Ah, god, you ruined it for me. We have to change it.”

“Well,” she offered, trying to compromise, “she could be wearing very tall heels?”

Tommy narrowed his eyes, another hum dragging out in his throat. “This feels like a trap. She was just running before this and I feel like you’ll give me hell if I make her do that in giant-ass stilettos.”

She gave him a corny wink and finger guns, at which he scoffed a laugh. “That’s an excellent point, and you thought of it all on your own.”

“I wrote before you, you know,” he warned playfully. “Whole novels. Many, many novels.”

She sighed theatrically. “It’s truly a wonder how you managed that before being graced with my genius.”

Tommy rolled his eyes and teased, “Ugh, shut up. Back on topic, genius.”

She rubbed her hands together like a cartoon villain. “Yes, the weird kissing pose. Stand up.”

“Why?” He dragged the word out suspiciously.

She stood herself, wiggling her hands at him in a “get up” motion. “Because I’m definitely right, but we should still be sure. You’re how tall?”

He slouched deeper into his chair, but reluctantly admitted, “Five-ten.”

She rolled her eyes at his petulance and waved a hand dismissively. “Close enough. Up.”

He heaved an aggrieved sigh and sat up, which was apparently signal enough for Felicity to take hold of his wrists and drag at his arms as if she could haul all 170 pounds of him out of the chair on her own. “I’m coming, I’m coming.”

She grinned cheekily as he stood. “Save it for the manuscript.”

“Har,” he deadpanned, lips twitching with the smile he refused to give in to. “Har har.”

“I’ll be here all night,” she shot back in a hokey comedian style.

Tommy snapped his mouth closed at the terrible, terrible sex pun that leapt immediately to mind, keeping it on the inside of his head by sheer willpower as she turned to look at the wall.

She held her hands up as if framing a picture, then turned and put her back against it. “Okay, come here.”

“This is getting a little weird,” he muttered, but did as he was bid.

Frowning like she was trying to solve a puzzle, Felicity took his hands and put them on her waist, then looked down at the inches of carpet between their toes. “Okay, you’re gonna have to step closer.”

He sighed. Shuffled his feet until they were awkwardly close. Her hands rested on his shoulders, and she tipped her head this way and that, looking at the angles of her elbows, measuring the tilt of her chin with her hand.

“Okay, bring your head down.” She frowned up at him, but her eyes were on his neck and not at all on his face.

“This is the least sexy kiss positioning I have ever, and I mean ever, been involved in,” he complained.

“Poor baby,” she crooned mockingly, curling her hand around the back of his neck and applying pressure until he lowered his head.

He stopped when he was close enough he could have brushed noses with her if he were being careless. Her eyes were distractingly close, but still not looking at his face. “My eyes are up here.”

“Huh?” She finally met his gaze, and her mouth—wow, so close—twitched with amusement. “So sorry to make you feel objectified.”

“I do,” he insisted teasingly. “Like a literal object. You want me to have a dressmaker’s dummy delivered for you? Might be even more useful.”

“Certainly less sassy,” she laughed, and adjusted his grip on her waist.

“Sassy,” he drawled. “Yes, the adjective that has dogged me all my life.”

Felicity just shook her head, tucking away the left corner of her grin and making a dimple stand out on the right. She looked down at their feet and examined every angle of their position, ending with tipping her head back as she kept her hand on the back of his.

His breath caught as the tip of her nose bumped against his, only briefly. Butterflies erupted stupidly in his stomach.

“See, this is fine,” she murmured, making him blink. “But it’s only five inches.”

Tommy choked, jerking his head to the side and bracing one hand on the wall. Laughter strangled in his throat, sending heat into his cheeks. “Only five inches,” he wheezed.

“Oh my god,” she groaned, humor tingeing it as she let her head fall back with a thump against the wall. “You are—you are the worst, you know what I meant!”

He snickered, straightening a little and smiling down at the flush in her cheeks. “Good to know this is the optimum height difference,” he enunciated with a wink, “for up-against-a-wall kissing.”

She shrugged with her mouth, humming uncertainly. “I’m still not convinced it’s comfortable enough to not be distracting from the sexy.”

Tommy raised an eyebrow and tilted his head to smirk at her. “It’s been plenty comfortable in my experience.”

“In your—” she narrowed her eyes. “So you’ve done this?”

He chuckled, shrugging one shoulder. “Not especially recently, but enough for a decent sample size, and with people of varying heights.”

She huffed, instantly slumping against the wall. “Why didn’t you just say that instead of going through this whole exercise with me?”

“Well,” he answered, light and airy, “I’ve never been the one against the wall. You still might be onto something. I mean, I’ve never had any complaints, but…”

His grin was half leer, and she made an exaggerated face at him. “Maybe because it’s just five inches,” she replied tartly.

“Oh,” he laughed, raising his head. “Oh, really.”

For a second, the response poised on his tongue was an offer to call Oliver for a demonstration, since he was who Tommy had physically modeled his archer vigilante on. But then the image of it, of Felicity against the wall and Oliver crowded up against her, head bent over her and hers tilted up, soured the words in his mouth. He swallowed them.

With a little cough, he straightened and pulled his hand, forgotten and warmed from the heat of her, from her waist. “So I think the results of this experiment are ambiguous enough to go ahead with nixing the wall kiss.”

Felicity blinked at him as he stepped back, hands rubbing against his jeans pockets. She pushed herself off the wall and quickly past him, back to the couch and the abandoned and much maligned pages. “Right. Yes. So something else there, I think.”

She sat down, focused back on the words he had written, flipping from one page to another. “Okay, but come here. Look at this.”

Breathing in deeply, Tommy sat on the couch beside her, leaning to see the print. “What am I looking at?”

“I mean, you did it before too on the part I read out loud, when the kiss starts, but it happens again here. The whole ‘crushing’ or ‘bruising’ kiss thing. It just doesn’t sound sexy. It sounds ow.”

“Hmm.” His eyes traced the lines til he found the words she had mentioned, and now that he read them over again, he had to admit they weren’t especially stirring. “It was supposed to be kind of a heat of the moment kiss, so it seemed like, I don’t know, the right level of intensity?”

She clicked her tongue. “I could see that for a hard, quick ‘oh my god we almost died’ kind of kiss, but it just goes on like that. And that does not read as hot to me.”

He tapped his fingers against his lips in contemplation, brow furrowed. “Sensual,” he murmured, recalling their earlier discussion about Cris’s character. “So, instead kind of a slow, steamy sort of kiss.”

Felicity hummed, but it was a very different hum from the ones before it. “You are definitely good at those,” she said under her breath. Abruptly, her head came up and she turned a defensive look on him. “Writing. At writing those.”

He exhaled a short laugh, tongue curling over his teeth in a helpless grin. “Trust me, I’m good at both.”

She cleared her throat and looked at him over her glasses. “Well, you could stand to prove it here.” She tapped a finger against the paper.

“Well, I intend to,” he responded archly. “So break it down with me. They’ve just run for their lives and swung into this alley, kind of hiding but also finally pretty sure they’re at a safe distance. She backs up against the wall, he stands close in front of her to, like, human shield or whatever—”

“Didn’t we just say no up-against-the-wall?” Felicity interrupted.

Tommy pursed his lips. “Roll with me here.” He waited til she waved her hand in a magnanimous go on gesture. “So they’re up against the wall, breathing hard, and really close. They stop looking over their shoulders and then look at each other.” He waggled his eyebrows just to make her roll her eyes and do that smile-hiding thing. “The chemistry sky rockets. Heat, sparks, bolts of lightning and tingles in their bits, etceteras, etceteras.”

She smothered a laugh with her hand.

“But,” he bit the t off sharply, “instead of a bruisy-ouch battle of the faces, he leans in, drawn in, like a magnet.” 

He leaned in closer, to illustrate. Lifting a hand, he let the fingertips hover just by Felicity’s cheek, not touching, just building the suspense. “They’re close enough to feel each other’s breath on their faces, hot, hurried. The surrender is slow, torturous.”

He bent over Felicity, her breath warm on his chin, her eyes fixed—finally—on his. “This way, the first, slightest brush of their lips is so built up it is itself almost orgasmic. An ecstatic explosion when the brush becomes a press, hot and wet and soft as a promise.”

His voice had lowered to a near-whisper, his chest on fire with the thrill of the tease, the unexpected delight of crafting each word and watching them hit his audience in real time, watching her cheeks flush and eyes darken, hearing her breath catch.

They were closer now even than they had been against the wall, his body curved over her, hand hovering by her face, strands of her hair tickling his knuckles. For a second—too many seconds, both more and less than he could count—the words evaporated from his mouth like water under a scorching sun, and they just held like that, no sound replacing his voice in the absence of the room except the push and pull of their breathing.

His gaze dropped to her lips, parted and temptingly cherry-pink.

The desire to close the gap was followed by a mental bucket of water and he stiffened.

This was Felicity. His beta reader and copy editor. His friend, even. She was here as part of her job, not to be coaxed into—into—into whatever in the hell he thought he was doing here.

He swallowed hard and willed his eyes to move from her mouth. “Um.” His voice had dropped into a gravel pit, ragged on his breath. “So how does that s—”

Felicity’s hands snatched at his t-shirt collar and she surged forward, and it was, ironically, a crash as her mouth met his.

But only for a second.

Her lips softened against his immediately and his self-restraint snapped like thread, his own mouth an eager press in return.

She sighed. Her lips parted under his, inviting.

He couldn’t have written it better.

And then she was gone.

She pulled away so abruptly Tommy was left gasping, blinking stupidly with his hands raised and empty.

She scooted backwards like her ass was on wheels, eyes wide and face flushed. They stared at each other, him stunned and confused, her looking almost… guilty as she tucked her lips between her teeth.

“Sorry,” she said finally. “Um. That was just because you are a very good writer and and, um, whew, very , way too good, uh, with words and…” she trailed off, looking away and fanning herself with one hand. “It’s not nice to tease a girl who has only gotten to enjoy,” her hand waved back and forth between them now, “ that vicariously through that very, very good writing for a really, stupidly long time. So. Uh.”

Tommy dropped his hands in his lap, still speechless.

Cringing, Felicity tucked her chin and looked up at him like she was bracing for a blow. “Am I like, super extra fired?”

Sitting up slowly, Tommy swallowed thickly and groped around for his voice. “You don’t actually work for me, you know.”

“Well, okay, technically we kind of both work for the publisher, which I guess makes us more like colleagues, but of the two of us, one of us is very valuable and the other is a highly disposable word-weed-whacker and I am pretty sure your editor would not hesitate to feed me to actual live snakes if the alternative was losing your contract, so…” Felicity frowned at her hands, seeming to suddenly realize that she had been embroidering her nervous run-on in obscure, twisting gestures.

She tucked her hands between her knees and took a fortifying breath before meeting his gaze directly. “I would like to repeat that I am very sorry.”

Tommy blew out an explosive exhale, running a hand over his hair and down his neck, his skin feeling both too hot and too cold. “I have to say this is a first for me. I don’t think anybody has ever kissed me before and then apologized for it like it was a murder.”

Felicity’s nose crinkled. “Do murderers apologize…? Right, totally not the point.”

“Okay, so, first of all,” Tommy started, desperately trying to rally. “You are very not fired. You still don’t work for me and one very nice if very unexpected kiss is absolutely not worth the fines I would have to pay for ending my contract. Which I don’t want to, before you go running away with that one.” He summoned a smile, only slightly stiff around the edges and hung just a little awkwardly. “And you’re still the absolute best sounding board and shit-caller I’ve met in my entire writing career, so please don’t leave me.”

“Really?” Felicity asked, tentative and almost hopeful.

Tommy drove a brutal spike through his ridiculously fluttering heart and softened his smile. “Really. I’m just gonna think of it as really excellent sketch work for a problem scene. Sometimes ‘write what you know’ is bullshit, but sometimes it’s good to get a little practical foundation.”

“Okay.” Felicity released a little nervous laugh. Or maybe it was relieved. “Sketch work. We’ll go with that, then. Considering the alternative is a sexual harassment lawsuit and I don’t actually look that good in orange.”

“I don’t believe that,” Tommy countered, a finger raised, “and I’m pretty sure sexual harassment lawsuits don’t end in federal prison sentences anyway.”

“Well that’s a relief,” she joked. “So, since we solved the problem with, um, the mechanics, should we move on to arguing about pacing, or should we call it a night here?”

He glanced at his watch, more to give him another beat to recover than for any concern about the time. “It’s pretty early yet, so if you’re up for another round of callously deflating my ego, I am prepared to hold back my tears and soldier on.”

“If you’re sure.” Felicity picked up the pages that had at some point dropped to the floor and smiled shyly at him.

It was devastatingly endearing.

With a flourish, he twisted at the waist to snatch a box of Kleenex from the end table and placed it precisely in his lap. “I’m sure. Hit me.”

------

Tip Jar!

------

@dntpanic42 @nottheopera @jaymee-97 @squidget13 @lfcoffee @felicity-smoak-is-my-goddess @jaspertown @nina2406 @petrandel @karolstrange @theripplingwave @silvainshadows @quietly-wandering @totallyunstablefangirl @amandaleslie24 @loved–and–alive @tosailuponthesea @crazyfool82 @tijats @crankyandbitchy @midnightofthesoul @meog1120 @punkermama @leaflingbags @skcolicity @moneyyhoneyyy @onynia @alalimon @gingerstarlight @oceanmina101 @snidgitmist93 @notahotlibrarian @bifelicitys @lovewillsurviveallobstacles @desikostos @phoenix-173 @hungrytiger11 @adeusminhacolombina @obscure-sentimentalist @abuiltinremedy @klaus-hargreeves-katz

and a grateful shoutout to @andyouweremine and @relevanttosomeone! for reasons ;)

#arrow #arrow fic #tommy merlyn #felicity smoak #flommy #booklovers au #kat prompted me this and then enthusiastically goaded me through all 10.2 pages #so you can thank or blame her as you like

[elven-oracle]

under the rose: part 2|th

moodboard courtesy of @mcuspidey

SUMMARY: Would you do anything for the person you love?

Would you do anything for the person you lust?

PAIRING: Agent!Tom Holland x Agent!Reader

WORD COUNT:  2.8k

sub rosa: adjective and adverb. formal. happening or done in secret. directly translated from latin: “under the rose.”

Part 1 Part 3

Part 2: Hand on a Blade

Things returned to their usual mundane business after the episode in the field. 

It had forced you to start wondering the purpose of the men sitting around doing hardly anything all day. It was a sex-trafficking business, yet you hardly saw a single young woman pass through the warehouse that had now become your day job. In meetings at the agency, you reported and confirmed everything the mic attached to your collarbone had recorded. You had been reassured that your work was dong leaps for the investigation, but you were antsy to make the arrests of the criminals you spent your time with. 

You knew that these women were out there somewhere, going through everything unimaginable; the thought of them was what got you out of bed in the morning, and every time a “client” was discussed, you suppressed your firey urge to sock one of the men in the face, but there was a cover to maintain, and many many lives to protect. Including your own. 

Tom’s fingers laid loosely interlocked with your own, an interaction so natural that it was as if you had been doing it for years, as the cover suggested. All of the detached moments of affection were slowly burning into your motions like delicately practiced choreography. Tom grabbing your hand, your waist, your forearm, the way he pressed a kiss into your body, it was all starting to lose its spark that you felt when you had started a week prior. 

After literally saving the lives of your favorite sex-traffickers, they had started to trust you. You discovered that these rival groups spent a good portion of time attempting to sabotage any efforts, and they did the same in retaliation, all done by an entirely different set of people that you had a slim chance of meeting. It was a good report to bring back to intelligence, though. 

You had gotten into an interesting conversation regarding them. 

“They like to get creative with their attacks, one time they threw chemical bombs into the place, we left with swollen eyes, I may have been blind for a few days,” Smithy took a long drag off of his cigarette and snuffed it out on the arm of his chair. 

“Oh!” Hardy spoke up, “Don’t forget the time that you got a ninja star in your leg,” he raised his eyebrows at you, “that’s right, miss, a whole fucking ninja star.” 

“It’s almost like a game for them,” you commented, starting to catch on. 

“Yeah,” Candy spit, “It’s fucking stupid, though. They need to stop being pussies and use a gun. Like everyone else.” 

How attacking with one lethal weapon over another made someone a pussy was beyond you. 

Meanwhile, you had continued to play the game of seduction with Tom to keep your mind off of the imminent deathtrap you walked into every day. After the scene in the bathroom, you started to notice the sly way that he would eye you as you walked away, or how his hand lingered so low on your waist. Some movements were methodical, some were the result of a secret desire that he probably hadn’t realized you noticed. The extra sway to your hips and the subtle release of your breath when he held you were nothing but purposeful. 

As long as nothing carried on, you would be fine. You weren’t about to become another notch in Tom Holland’s belt. 

Sitting in Tom’s passenger seat, you made the silent drive over to the location, occasionally checking your lipstick to give yourself something to do. It was strange how close you felt to your partner, despite the limited, cordial conversation that you carried out privately. Being two different people had proven itself to be restricting in the strangest of ways. 

This morning, however, you decided to take a new step in the carpool and twist the volume on to turn on some music. You felt his eyes as you returned back to sitting, some song by Taylor Swift echoing in the speakers. 

Don’t blame me love made me crazy, if it doesn’t you ain’t doing it right.

You had never been in love. It never crossed your mind as something important. During your high school years, you had much more strenuous priorities, and now, your job was your entire life. Something about the lyrics radiated in your brain, though. The way that love could change someone. Sometimes it was the best thing that could happen to a person.

And sometimes it was the worst. 

When you reached the final destination, you were greeted with a series of tired grunts, as usual. It took a couple hours for the guys to wake up, and a few beers usually did the trick. Alcohol for them was like coffee for you: they had no words for each other until they had gotten it coursing through their systems. 

Nothing seemed out of place that afternoon. There was a specifically intriguing soccer game that they all seemed invested in, while you couldn’t care less. Anything other than soccer was more your speed. 

Well, nothing was out of place that afternoon until Boss made an unruly entrance, tossing guns to his men, and looking directly at you and pointing to the bathroom. Thrown completely off guard, you turned around to see a storm of men, clad in black, all wielding long and seemingly sharp blades. The rival gang had made another return, this time with another creative form of weaponry.

You took note of the pistols on their hips. Today they had decided not to be pussies.

You were reluctant to place yourself into hiding, but you drifted away to keep the cover intact. It was almost painful to separate yourself from the action. You had almost reached the door when you took one last glimpse, not wanting to admit that you wanted to be absolutely certain that Tom was okay. The answer was half satisfying, half terrifying. 

A dark figure was approaching Tom from behind, blade raised, going in for a fatal swoop.

You wanted to tell yourself that it was your instinct as an agent that sent you running, in the same way, that had brought you to throw that grenade out of explosion range. It definitely wasn’t the panic of seeing your partner in danger, a wild panic that was out of control, rather than the regulated anxiety that was perfect for sending yourself into life-threatening situations. Your heart was beating out of your chest as your feet pounded, your mind spun, and you shoved Tom out of the way, replacing his head with your hand. 

In training, they had forced you to endure all sorts of pain, all consensual. They would get your verbal confirmation, and with a countdown from three, you would get a shot of electricity shoved into your veins. In this job, pain was inevitable, but pain was also fleeting. The more you grew used to it, the stronger you felt.

The burning sensation that exploded in your hand was nothing like you had felt in training. You wished you had felt the fire in your hand, and as your vision went white, you heard the gunshots fire off. Boss was yelling, through the unwarranted tears in your eyes, there was the sound of Tom’s pseudonym being demanded to a task. It felt like an eternity until there was a shout of “all clear.” 

Through your blurred vision, you saw Tom’s concerned brown eyes, and his hands bring you to your feet. You were dizzy with delirium, the pain in your hand only increasing as more seconds passed. Maybe you had split it open, maybe once they contained the bleeding you wouldn’t feel like vomiting, but the sight you were welcomed to once the fog cleared almost sent your breakfast and the minimal alcohol straight up your throat. 

It was a clean slice to your pinkie finger. Which, fortunately, meant that it could be sewn back on.

Right?

Tom started to say your name but quickly corrected himself, “Rose, baby, let’s get to the car. Hospital time.” 

Despite the excruciating pain, you stayed in character, “Johnny...what happened?”

You knew what the fuck happened. Those pussies had chopped your finger off. 

Tom didn’t reply with the obvious, he replied with, “Love, you saved my life,” and then under his breath, “again.” 

You were ushered out the door, with Tom insisting that he take you himself over having the entire group follow. You knew that you were headed to the agency and not an actual hospital. There couldn’t be any public record of the injury. It would blow your cover. There was a fully operating hospital wing on one of the floors for this very reason, the surgeon would be ready for you when you got there. 

Tom helped you into the passenger seat of his car, placing your severed finger in your lap, wrapped in a towel as if that made anything better. It only made you want to hurl more. 

This car ride was not silent. 

“Y/N how’s it going?” his British accent was a breath of fresh air, and you hated that.

���I’m not fucking dying Tom.” 

“Yeah, well, pardon me for making sure you aren’t having a panic attack. You just got mutilated after all.” “I’ll live. Eyes on the road.” 

“Okay! Okay.” 

Your entire body was damp with sweat as if someone had dumped water everywhere except your hair. You could feel it dripping down your face and the way that it made the wig particularly itchy. You wanted to rip it off, but once again, the cover. The things you did for your job. 

“You saved my life again.” 

“Yes. And?”

He hesitated as if expecting a different answer, “Thanks.” “You’re my partner, I could only hope you would do the same for me.” “I would,” the way he said it was almost defensive. 

“Oh thank, goodness. I was worried for a second,” you were being sarcastic to mask the pain, but that couldn’t mask the yelp you let out as he sped around a corner. 

There was another brief silence, but you didn’t like how it felt, so you filled it with the dumbest joke you could think of, “Do you think this pain is worse than childbirth?”

You could hear him trying not to laugh, “You’re asking an expert.”

“Good. You think?”

He looked at your hand, which had now bled through the towel you were using for pressure and was bleeding onto your leather pants and onto the car seats made of the same material.

“Sure.” “Thanks, Doctor Holland, I think I’ll have kids now.” 

Upon arrival, you were shoved onto a gurney and taken away, Tom only being able to accompany you to a certain point. It didn’t seem like either of you noticed that he had taken hold of your non-injured hand until each one of your fingers were torn away from each other, leaving you to roll your eyes back and pass out, the final dose of adrenaline running out. 

…

Beep...beep...beep…

Consciousness was like hitting a wall. Your eyes fell open almost against your will, sleep wanting to regain its hold. With a deep inhale, you rolled your head over to your left hand, which now no longer had the deep pain from what felt like only minutes prior, although you knew it had to be hours. 

The memories came flooding back. There was the motion of intent in the body of the attacker, the insane panic, and the flash of internal light that stung across your eyes as the blade swept across your hand. It was a memory that would never leave you, a trauma that you knew you had no time to address. 

A thick, cast-like bandage surrounded your pinkie, sitting on a strategically laid table to keep it elevated. What caught your surprise, though, was the fact that another hand rested on top of yours, rough with calluses, a hand that you had held before, but never like this. 

Tom was asleep in a chair next to you, his head rolled back, mouth agape. The small sight of drool brought a weak smile to your face. Asleep, the usually dark and demeaning man that you worked with looked relaxed and...soft. You knew better than anyone that Tom was anything but soft. 

Your hand twitched, and Tom immediately stirred, yawning and retracting his hand away from yours. For a second you could tell he was just as disoriented as you had just been, but he rubbed the sleep from his eyes and met yours, looking slightly sheepish as he pulled on his fingers nervously. He pulled a leg to his chest, looking away for a second, then chuckled to himself as he looked back at you.

“Something funny?” your voice was hoarse. 

He shook his head, “You almost lost your finger there, agent.” 

“Thank goodness I had the wonderful Agent Thomas Stanley Holland to save me from a life of stub hand.” 

He chuckled again, “Even mutilated, you remain as endearing as ever, Y/L/N.” 

You couldn’t help the blush that sparked on your cheeks. Hopefully, the lighting was dim enough that he didn’t see. 

It was almost midnight when a flurry of agents took up almost all of the space in your hospital wing, a reminder that your work never stopped. The mission was still steady-going, and this was likely not to be considered a setback. 

“Agent Y/L/N, we would like to remind you that despite your injury, you are still expected to return to the field as soon as possible. This mission is too important for you to step back, and the chances of cover being blown-” 

You cut the man speaking to you off, “I understand. I expected nothing less.” 

As if you ever even thought about not continuing the mission. This had been the most important mission of your career. You would have to be killed in action before resigning. The man at the foot of your bed, an agent you had never met before, was trying to hide how pleased he was with your answer. Apparently, he had expected you to put up more of a fight. 

Satisfied, they left, not needing to hear anything else from you. 

“I’ll be sure to get well soon!” you called as the door shut behind them. It left you alone with Tom once again. He was smirking. 

“Can I ask you something, Y/N?”

“Go for it,” you expected it to be about the plan of action for tomorrow. Neither of you talked about much more than work.

In the months you spent preparing with your partner, he had never asked anything personal, so his question took you by surprise.

“What brought you to this line of work?”

Your lips parted, and you took a second to think before responding, gnawing on the inside of your cheek. You thought about the family you left behind when accepting the job, the minimal contact, how you hadn’t seen your parents in years. To any onlooker, you had given up a lot to take this job, but to you it had been an easy decision. 

“Um,” you sighed. “Well, initially I was a police officer. Narcotics. My parents…” Were you really about to tell him this?

“My parents ran a drug lab in our house for a very long time. They weren’t arrested until I was in college. I just wanted to make a difference.” 

“And what brought you here?”

“Putting Jacoby Zimmerman in jail.” 

He looked impressed, “You...put the Magic Man in jail?”

“Sure did.”

Zimmerman had been your side project. He was a drug trafficker, and he was good. The best detectives had been chasing him for years, and while you were the lowest tier in the line of detectives, you had been going behind their backs to try and book him. As much as you hated to admit it, the relation was personal. He had supplied to your parents, and your parents had tried to get you to deal at your high school. Instead, you worked a fast-food job and shoved the drugs down the toilet. Every paycheck went towards the drug hussle that wasn’t happening, and you hardly kept a cent for yourself. 

“Damn. He was…”

“Renowned. I know,” you paused, wondering how to conclude the strange conversation you had found yourself in, “I don’t know, I guess I just wanted to do what’s right. Change my past or whatever.”

You sat in silence some more, occasionally looking down at your bandaged finger. When you put away Zimmerman, you never pictured yourself in this position. You had been told countless times that being an agent sometimes required repeatedly putting yourself in danger, but after all the paperwork and the meetings, you had started to detach yourself from that factor. Now, there you were, sewn back together like Frankenstein. 

You hadn’t noticed when you fell asleep, but when you woke up in the middle of the night, after yet another nightmare where your finger was being torn apart, Tom’s hand had returned to sitting on yours. It was gentle. Tender. You couldn’t help the subtle feeling of comfort drawn from it. 

You were losing the game.

Part 1 Part 3

M A S T E R L I S T

click HERE to be added to the taglist

T A G L I S T

@plushparker @spideyboipete @starkstower @bilkyrie @spideymood @saturn-aka-six @starlightfound @pvnk-bivch @gamoraisbi @xxtomxo @ophcelia @the-queen-procrastinator @trustfundparker @miraclesoflove @maybemona @galacticalstarcat @fame-works-quicker @honeymoonparker @loserhollandask @quillaluna @cheesecakebagels @misspepper07 @thelostverse @legendsofwholock @morbiddanvers @fangirl-trash-things @particularspider @applenter @the-lost-fairy-tale @mrskitchenboy @mintyoohoochapstick @newtimewriter @ohheyitsem @nixphomaniac @juuuless @emilymarie0422 @dreamyyholland @gioandreolli @mcuspidey @astrospideys @starksparker @starklovebot @stuckonspidey @lostinspidey @laureharrier @hollandroos @wazzupmrstark @tominhoodies @spider-babes @inthe-gardenofevil @softspideyboy @mcuparkers @hillsnholland @hawkinsholland @poetrypeter @screamholland

#allie writes under the rose #UTR #tom holland #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fic #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland reader insert #tom holland au #agent!reader #agent au #agent!tom holland #fanfiction #fanfic #self insert

[theweirdqueerwriter]

Seeing Red - A Kelley O’Hara imagine

It had been months since you received the call that would ultimately change your life. You had made the national team, after trying so hard for years, you dream had finally been made reality.

After weeks of training, today was your first game against none other than Canada. You were on the starting eleven, which many fans and reporters complained about, since they’d never seen you play before.

“Hum... hello? (Y/N) are you still with me?” Kelley asks from the other side of your shared room.

“Sorry, what?” You replied, suddenly being brought back to reality.

“Alright, that is enough, what’s going on?” Kelley asks, crossing her arms and sitting on the bed in front of you.

“What do you mean?” You reply, trying to act tough, knowing it’s not working at all on Kelley who, for the last months, you had grown really close to.

“Don’t even try this with me (Y/N), what’s wrong,” she asks and without really knowing why, a tear falls down your cheek, followed by a few more and the next second you are full on crying.

At the sight of that, Kelley gets up and comes to sit on your bed, taking you into her arms, trying to help you calm down with a reassuring hand on your back.

“Hey, it’s okay, whatever it is you can tell me, please talk to me. I’m right here.” Kelley says, now caressing your back, with your face in the crook of her neck and her chin on your head.

This whole thing had affected you way more than you would have liked and thought it would. Slowly but surely, the tears stop flowing and you pull away from her.

“Have you seen the articles? What the fans are saying?” You ask, eyes red and puffy, sniffling a bit.

“(Y/N), please don’t tell me you did this to yourself. Why would you look at those things? Especially before a big game like this,” Kelley asks, now understanding where all of this was coming from.

You look at her, guiltily, unable to answer. You look down, unable to hold her gaze.

“Look, I get it okay, but some people can be really harsh on social media and some fans don’t love when things change a lot and rapidly, so some comments might have been really rude, but you know what?” Kelley asks, looking at you and putting a hand on you chin to rise you face so she can see your eyes.

“What?” You reply, looking into her eyes.

“Now you prove them wrong,” she says, whipping away the tear on your left cheek and placing a piece of loose hair behind your ear.

A bit of a smile forms on you lips. You are feeling better already and Kelley can see it.

“Come over here, weirdo,” Kelley says, pulling you into a tight bone crushing hug.

*cut to game*

The crowd is already on fire and the game hasn’t even started yet. As you walk onto the field and get ready for the national anthems to start playing, you remember the tweets you read right before leaving the locker room. Only tweets from your teammates, encouraging you for your first game. You feel the love from them all over again. You also remember the not so nice tweets you had read that morning from fans of the team and the pain they had brought you, but also the desire to prove them wrong.

The anthems now over, each player takes place onto the field for the game to begin. The hype is real, this game is important, for you and for the team, so you can’t mess this up. The whistle blows and the ball lifts off.

Being on right midfield had pretty much always been your position on the field and that was exactly where you were at the moment.

The ball reaches your feet and you move forward, creating a way through Canadian players and eventually you pass forward to Tobin, who cuts through the defenders and shoots on goal. Labbe, however, catches it. Your first assist will have to wait. Tobin turns and gives you a thumbs up, she liked that pass and wants more.

You can feel the electricity in the stands. Fans from both sides cheering their favorite players on. You move backwards when Janine Beckie moves forward, towards goal, with purpose. You attempt a slide tackle, which you succeed at and steel the ball right from under her feet, passing it back to Kelley who sends it to Sauerbrunn. The crowd cheers louder after that play, which feels like a compliment.

The ball goes back and forth between the two teams for some time, no one really able to finish it and put it at the back of the net on either side of the pitch. It’s at the 43rd minute that your team gets a corner, the first of the match. The whole team lines up and so do you. Rapinoe gets ready to hit the ball. A hand up from Megan tells you the ball is coming and when she hits it, the confusion in front of the goal gives you an opportunity to slip between players and connect with the ball with your head and score an amazing goal. The team goes crazy and so do the fans. Alex jumps into your arms, amazed that you just scored you first goal with the squad on your first game. Megan gives you a big hug and you thank her for the opportunity. You feel someone jumping on your back and just know who it is.

“Yes! That’s what I’m talking about!” Kelley says, holding you from behind. You turn around to face her and see her smile from ear to ear. She takes your face into her hands and kisses your forehead, where you connected with the ball. Tobin hands you the ball with which you just scored your big goal.

“You’re gonna want to keep this one,” she says with a wink.

You thank her and take the ball from her hands hesitantly. You look at it and feel pride in yourself. You look at the crowd and raise the ball up. The crowd cheers louder and as you kiss the ball, they start cheering even louder. You run to the sidelines quickly to give to ball to someone who’ll put it with your stuff and get congratulations from the team on the bench.

The game continues and shortly after, first half is over.

The team regroups in the locker room and Jill gives a speech of motivation to the team and explains the new strategy, without forgetting to mention your first goal.

After, you head back to the field. Kelley is beaming beside you.

“I’m so proud of you (Y/N). That goal was amazing and put us in advance,” she says, still amazed by what you did.

“Thanks Kel, means a lot from you,” You reply, a huge smile on your face.

Kelley looks at you with amazement and shakes her head, rolling her eyes and putting an arms around your shoulders as you walk back out on the field.

You start warming up again before the second half starts. Eventually, you are back in midfield, with the ball at your feet. The second half is a lot trickier. Canada came in with a totally different attitude. They wanted to win and they would do anything for it. That meant being more ferocious and physical. Alex had been fouled twice in the first ten minutes of the second half and the ref didn’t seem to care at all.

Looking up for a second, you see an opening and start running, but get cut off by Chapman, coming full force towards you and placing a foot in front of the ball. your foot gets caught in it, which results in you falling and losing the ball. Kelley protests right away for a foul, but the ball stays in play.

It hurts, but you get back up just as Kelley regains possession of the ball. She passes it midfield to Ertz, who in an attempt to pass forward, gives it back to the opposing team.

Their attack comes quickly, with short passes in the defense line and a great finish by Sinclair which equalizes the game. Within the next ten minutes, Canada managed to foul seven players, obtain only one yellow card, and score a second goal. With now 20 minutes left to go, the team knows they have to act, fast.

After a great pass by Kelley, the ball falls back at your feet and pressing forward, you feel the pressure from the Canadian side. An opening allows you to slip the ball to Alex who finishes on her left foot. She comes running towards you and lifts you up into her arms. The rest of the team comes crashing into the two of you and you feel all the love from you teammates.

The ball goes back into play and with now only a few minutes left, you don’t want this game to end on an equalizer. The clocks starts ticking by as some opportunities come and go. You run up field and receive a great ball from Mewis. In the box now and about to shoot your shot when the ground is taken from under you. You hit the ground, hard, and your ankle feels like its been torn. You hold it, crying, wanting to scream in pain but no sound comes out. The players are still playing and the ball reaches Kelley, who had already been running upfield to come to you aid. She immediately shoots it outside and runs to you.

“(Y/N) are you okay?” She asks, clearly worried and bending down to talk to you.

“God my ankle” is the only thing you can form and she immediately signals for the medical staff to come and help.

She gets up and the ref, who had been standing right beside you signals that a penalty kick was to be taken. Kelley asks for a card to be given and as she says it the ref pulls out a card, aimed at Chapman, who slide tackled you moments prior. It’s a red card, no less. Chapman protests and Kelley thanks the ref for doing something right for once in this game.

The medical team are assessing your injury when Kelley kneels back down next to you.

“It’s gonna be okay (Y/N), you’ll be fine I promise” she says, trying to reassure herself more than you.

“We need to switch you out, you aren’t finishing this game” one of the medics say, to which you try protesting, but seeing the state of you ankle, you agree to being subbed out. They roll you out on a stretcher, a little stream of tears on your face from frustration and pain. The crowd cheers as you leave the field, and Kelley can’t help being worried and scared at the state of your ankle, herself having had ankle injuries.

Alex scores on the PK, and the final whistle blows, the US have won.

While everyone on the field starts cheering and congratulating each other, Kelley can’t find it in herself to be happy in the moment, she’s too worried about you and can’t wait to leave the field and see if you’re alright.

Alex, seeing the worry on Kelley’s face runs up to her and reassures her that you will be alright, but words just aren’t enough at the moment. She needs to see you.

Eventually she leaves the field and when she reaches the locker rooms, you aren’t there.

“Where’s (Y/N)?” She asks Jill, a little bit harsher than she intended.

“She’s getting treatment, she’ll meet us back at the hotel when she’s done” Jill replies.

“Thanks” Kelley replies, already starting to think the worst.

Right now she wishes she could hit Chapman, but she knows nothing like that would help the situation, it wouldn’t even make her feel better.

The bus ride back to the hotel is filled with chants from the team and overall happiness, except from Kelley, who prefers to stay quiet and look out the window. Her thoughts are going wild and Alex notices. She slips through the people and sits down next to Kelley.

“The bus isn’t going to the hotel right away” Alex says, anticipating Kelley’s reaction.

As expected, Kelley turns her focus to Alex with wide eyes.

“What? Why? Where are we going ?” She says, a slight anger in her voice.

“The team wanted to go out for drinks, it’s on Jill and the bus is just dropping us off there” Alex explains, “but before you say anything, I called you an Uber, it’ll pick you up at the bar when we get there” Alex adds, and sees a slight relief on Kelley’s face.

“Thank you Alex,but why did you-“ Kelley starts, but is cut off by Alex.

“Oh please Kel, like I wouldn’t notice how you feel about this girl” Alex starts “I’ve never seen you act that way about a player getting hurt ever before.” Alex states and Kelley’s eyes widen.

“Is it that obvious?” She asks, her cheeks heating up a bit and a slight redness appearing.

“I mean, you’re my best friend so of course I’d notice, not sure if anyone else noticed” Alex replies, a grin on her face.

“God... I just hope she’s okay... I can’t imagine her not being able to play for the World Cup. She would be devastated” Kelley states, looking back out the window.

To that, Alex simply leans on her shoulder, resting her head on it, reassuringly.

*cut to Kelley getting off the Uber*

Kelley heads for the doors of the hotel after her Uber ride and makes a mental note to thank Alex once again for calling one from the bus.

Walking the halls, Kelley can’t help but feel some type of ache in her stomach, as nervousness settles in. She finally reaches the door to your shared room and opens it quietly.

Once she’s in, she can see the lamp on your bedside table still lit and you on the bed, quietly sobbing with your ankle all taped up. She cautiously approaches you and rounds your bed so she is sitting on hers, looking at you.

You hadn’t realized she had came in and jumped when you opened your eyes.

“God Kelley, didn’t know you were back” you say, turning so you’re laying on your back, quickly whipping your face, attempting to hide the fact that you were just crying.

“Sorry, I didn’t wanna scare you” Kelley replies, a soft but worried expression on her face.

You both sit there, in the comfortable silence for a few seconds.

“Are you okay?” Kelley tries, carefully.

“They said I won’t be able to play for a few weeks, but I should recover” You reply, earning a confused look from the brunette.

Another silence.

“Did we win?” You ask, your voice cracking a bit and it dawns on Kelley why you had been crying.

“Hey, you don’t have to be disappointed by your performance today (Y/N), you did amazing and what happened was in no way your fault” Kelley says, coming over and sitting on your bed and you sit up. She take you hand in hers, providing comfort.

“We did win today, Alex scored on the PK” Kelley says, and you breathe in relief, a tear falling down your cheek.

Kelley’s face changes. In the moment, she looks really worried.

“God I was so worried” she says, hugging you. You rested you face in the crook of her neck and she lets out a breath of relief.

The hug is comfortable and holds so much meaning. You feel your heart rate picking up. You would stay like this forever if you could. Kelley pulls always, slowly, but staying close, looking into your eyes. She leans in, carefully, and places a kiss on your forehead. Her lips linger and your heart goes crazy at the contact. It no longer feels like comfort. It feels like so much more than that. She pulls away, but you don’t let much time pass before pulling her in for a kiss. It surprises you, the newfound confidence that you seem to have around her. It surprises her too, because she didn’t think her feelings were reciprocated. The kiss is sweet and meaningful, and you let yourself melt into it, into her. Her soft hands on you face, yours on her hips. After a few minutes, you both pull away. One of her hands is still caressing your cheek.

She’s about to say something, but you cut her off before she has a chance too.

“We’ll talk about this tomorrow. It’s late and I’m tired and I think the meds are kicking in, I’m starting to feel fuzzy” You say and she lets go of your face.

“Okay” she says before standing up.

“Wait” you say, taking her arm in you hand “can you just lay with me?” You ask and her face softens even more. You didn’t even know that was possible.

“Sure” she says and rounds the bed before climbing behind you. She’s careful, not wanting to hurt your foot while getting in. She hugs you from behind, putting her head in your necks and you turn off the light by your side.

Kelley exhales in you ear, sending shivers down your spine. You feel safe in her arms. Before drifting off to sleep, you her her muffled voice in your ear say “don’t ever scare me like that again, weirdo”.

#kelley o'hara #kelley o'hara imagines #kelley o'hara imagine

[rovvboat]

Painted Flaws - Colossus/Piotr Rasputin x villian!Reader

Part 12

A/N: send an ask if you wanna be added to the taglist! Lmk how you feel about this series!

Summary: You’re a villian with a moral grey area. You meet Piotr at an art exhibit, but both of you are there for completely different reasons. Though the attraction was inevitable, will it be enough? A growing passionate love wrought with secrecy, both of you try to move through this maze. But when the ball drops, what will you choose?

word count: 2k

The X-Jet roars over the Lazarus Headquarters – a large metallic building coasting over the side of a preserved mountain range.

NTW leans forward from her seat next to Colossus – as he pilots the X-Jet – and peers over the front glass panel. But before she can say anything, she feels a Deadpool looming over her shoulder.

‘’Wow. Don’t think they have any parking available,’’ Deadpool quips, leaning with a casual arm draped over the top of her seat. 

Cable rolls his eyes from his seat.

‘’Wade, please get back and strap yourself on to seat for your own safety,’’ Colossus calmly instructs, eyes never leaving the sight in front of him.

‘’I’d like a different kind of strap, tinman – but that’s only after you buy me dinner. Also, don’t you for a second think I wouldn’t try to fit a cockpit joke in there, because I just want you to know th– ’’

Deadpool’s sentence was cut off as the cabin jerked to the side from a disturbance, sending him hurtling and falling flat against the side of the cabin.

As he rubs the sore part of his head, he notices Colossus snickering from his seat – ‘’You fucking did that on purpose!’’

‘’It is cloudy day. Turbulence was inevitable, Wade. I told you to wear belt.’’

Cable titters as he looks ahead at Colossus, ‘’Didn’t know you had it in you, Colossus. Good job.’’

NTW laughs heartily at the sight, ‘’That’s some good karma. And anyway, before I was interrupted by doucheface, I think this HQ was probably designed to only be accessible to helicopters. Colossus, you might have to let us off and land somewhere nearby.’’

‘’Yes, very good observation NTW. Soon enough, you too can be Pilot of X-Jet. There was an airbase that I saw not too far from here. I will be there. Please radio me if you need extraction,’’ Colossus directs the team as he adjusts his headset. He flicks the tab on the panel of controls in front of him, releasing the jet’s back door from its’ closed position.

Deadpool cracks his knuckles – and then does the same to his neck – in a showy fashion.

‘’It’s go time, muchachos.’’

‘’Wade! Please wear a para–‘’

And as in Deadpool fashion, he lets himself fall backwards – hurtling down to the Earth without a parachute.

Cable sighs, grabbing an extra parachute from the racks – ‘’I’ll take care of that.’’ – as he makes his jump off the end of the platform.

There was someone waiting to meet them at the landing area, as Cable and Deadpool make their contact to ground. Cable held his face in a disgruntled deadpan look, as Deadpool hung onto his torso with arms and legs wrapped around him.

‘’Are you done?’’

‘’What? I couldn’t get the parachute on.’’

‘’If you don’t get off of me in the next 5 seconds – ‘’ Cable mutters with a low voice, his hand motioning to grab his submachine gun.

‘’Alright! Alright! I’m off now!’’ Deadpool remits as he climbs off of Cable, laboriously slowly.

The person waiting on the landing grounds had been observing the whole tirade, with an incredulous look on their face. Cable ignores the moments of before and gets right to it.

‘’You got what we need?’’

‘’Yeah. I’m sticking my neck out for you. But I don’t give a shit about either the fucking bitch or the boss she works for.’’

A flash of recognition blights Cable’s TO eye.

’’I remember you. You’re the shitface that shot Colossus in the back. The prick from the helicopter.’’

The man chuffs. But Cable’s stare bears into him, cracking his knuckles as he does.

‘’I have some choice words for you, but I won’t count on me using my words.’’ – NTW holds a cautionary arm in front of Cable – and he lets off.

The man remains slack, and holds out the drive between his thumb and index finger.

‘’Everything you need to know is in this thumb drive. Address and real names are encrypted data – but it should be easy enough for you to decode that on your own,’’ the man eyes Cable intensely and before – as Cable reached out to take the drive – in one swift move, flicked the drive and caught it in a fist.

‘’But I need something from you first.’’

NTW walks ahead, just ahead of Cable.

‘’We’re listening.’’

‘’I want out. New name, location, papers. For me and my family. I want to be untraceable within the next 2 days.’’

‘’That should be easy enough. If you aren’t stupid.’’

The man scoffs – ‘’Yeah, and if you aren’t stupid, you wouldn’t antagonize that only lead you’ve had in months. Talk about stupid.’’

NTW rolls her eyes, and Cable steps forward to bring a satisfactory end to the negotiations.

‘’Alright. I’m sure we could arrange for that. Now,’’ he holds his arm out for the drive.

The man seemed to hold back at first, but quickly dropped the drive onto Cable’s open palm.

‘’We will send you your new papers once we’re done. You’re in good hands.’’

The man scoffs again. ‘’I don’t believe in there ever being a good side. You fight only for your own interests. You wouldn’t even be here if not for the information that I got for you.’’

Deadpool yawns and stretches dispassionately, ‘’Yeah, yeah. You’re a hack, we get it. We’ll see you next week, champ.’’

The team turns back, with NTW radioing for Colossus to pick them up.

***

Your phone buzzes with messages from Piotr; asking about your day, if you’ve eaten, if you’re busy. With the amount of time the man sets aside to check up on you, you never would have guessed he was an X-Man.

His replies don’t always come quickly though – sometimes it takes him ages, and he always apologises for it (no matter how much you’ve tried to reassure him that you understood); but it kept in line with his previously claims of being a firefighter.

You grab your phone off the table, hurriedly setting your phone on mute.

You shift your focus back to your computer; eyes still stinging from the hours spent trying to book flights and layovers for D.K.

It would’ve been much easier if you were just booking flights though.

You had hired a few bodyguards (you’ve previously met many of them from working in the field, but few you knew you could absolutely trust) – and they were to help D.K. through his trip and make sure he was safe. Though they all had the condition that they would operate from a distance.

None of them were willing to fend off against your Boss if it meant putting their lives and livelihoods in jeopardy – and you understood that for the most part.

You close your eyes for a minute, letting yourself rest from the demands of the world.

As you lay back against the couch, you envision your sleepy mornings with Piotr – oh how you wished you could be there now; with you starfished on top of him – sometimes clothed, most times not – as his fingers drew slow blissful lines over your back, before running reassuring strokes with slow, long strides of his calloused palms.

Calloused palms which you grew to love, because they were his.

When you looked up at him from your position, he would never fail to give you a smile – with sweet, supple lips that would tell you ‘’I love you’’ a million times if you asked – and would kiss you instead if you didn’t.

Kisses you could never get enough of, because they were his.

The way he would nestle against your neck – strong arms curled up over you – snug and tight and warm against his loving chest

– especially on the nights that were quiet – as if to tell you that he’d hold you close, even if he didn’t need to;

Because he was yours.

You’re jolted back to your empty living room, and into the silent whirring of your laptop.

You push all those thoughts to the back of your mind, as began you typing away on your laptop.

The hours rolled by, uninterrupted – when a sudden urgent knocking sounds at your door.

Your face turned quizzical.

That’s odd… I’m not expecting anyone.

You quickly head over to your room and grab your electric baton.

When you reach your door, you try to put an eye onto the peep hole, but the person on the other end starts knocking aggressively again, making you flinch back. You press your face over the keyhole, and look for who was outside your door so late.

When you realise who it was, you breathe a shaky breath of relief, but your heart rate only picks up from there. Your hands move swiftly to unlock the door and greet your visitor.

‘’Piotr? It’s 3am… What are you doing here so late?’’

‘’I’m sorry, Y/N. You were not responding to your calls… and I grew concerned. I was coming back from work, and thought I could check up on you.’’

Your heart was both elated, and sinking at the same time. You try not to make eye contact with him for too long. Whenever you did, you felt as if he could see right through you.

‘’Yeah, I was just… busy. I was going to call you back.’’

‘’Okay… May I come in?’’

You hesitate, and the uncomfortable look on your face stings at Piotr.

‘’It’s not that I don’t want you here, Piotr – its just that… I’m working on a case right now with a client over the phone. It wouldn’t be professional, and I wouldn’t be able to concentrate.’’

‘’I.. Yes, I understand, myshka…’’ he rubs his neck, trying to hide his embarrassment, ‘’I’m sorry for having interrupted your work… I will wait for when you are free next time.’’

It took all you had to not just pull him closer to you – to show him that he was loved and needed and wanted around.

But the jury doesn’t call for that.

You bite your lip, ‘’okay, get home safely, Piotr.’’

He gives you an awkward nod, before walking away from your door as it shut.

***

The room sits still, waiting for you to make a move as you stand leaning against your bedroom door. Your breathing becomes jagged and heavy as your heart thuds against your chest, and as you do, there's the wetness that escapes your eyes – demanding to burn down your hot cheeks.

You sniff the layers of unease away from your nose, as serious as you can.

Get your priorities straight, Y/N!

There was an ache and an anger and torment brewing in the pit of your stomach, rising and rising as your chest heaved in frustration.

You turn around to bring a closed, fist hard against the door, pounding out your frustrations – hard and unflinching – with gritted teeth as your stinging tears forced your eyes shut.

You wanted to scream. You wanted a release. And you did.

Your groans and sobbing would go unnoticed everyone outside – with the house covered roof to floor with every kind of proofing you could think of;

and in that you found a delinquent sense of security – in the same place you also found the lonely pit sprouting in your chest.

It felt like a daze.

Every person you’ve ever met, taken – lost – killed.

Left.

And those whom you’ve grown to love, were never allowed to be a permanent part of your life.

Your legs grew weak, the hours and thoughts sapping what little energy they had from their muscles – as you lower yourself down, sitting with your back against the door.

There isn’t much left for me. The sooner I let this go, the better for everyone involved.

You head to the bathroom, rinsing your face off – then drying it off with a towel. You face yourself in the mirror; eyes red and swollen.

You abandon the face in the mirror – striding over to your study room, grabbing a pen and paper;

And in that page, you let yourself be free.

You let yourself be seen.

—————————————————————————-

Taglist!

@emma-frxst @chromecutie @fluffymadamina @master-sass-blast@marvelhead17 @onthequill @candle-light-writings @mooleche @starman-thorsus-canos-jock @super-darkcloudstudent

#colossus x reader #colossus imagines #piotr rasputin x reader #Colossus #Piotr Rasputin #deadpool fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #cable imagine #Painted Flaws Part 12

[writerlyhabits]

7 and 63 for the Tenth Doctor please!

I know this took me forever, but can I just say that I actually had a lot of fun with this?? Holy cow, most of my time was spent thinking of how to do it, but once I had an idea I took off!! (thanks to my roomate, she kept reminding me to write for you guys😅) Anyway, a bit of fluff, bit of alien invasion, and some sweet moments with the Doctor. Thanks anon!!!♥️♥️

7.“Is that blood?” “No?” “That’s not a question you’re supposed to answer with another question.”

63.“Only a fool would fall in love with someone as deadly as me.”

“The Doctor in an antique shop … you’re finally where you belong,” you giggled playfully.

“Oi, watch it!” You continued to giggle at him, earning a half smile, half pout from the tall man as he continued examining the objects on display. Donna had insisted on dropping by at home for a bit so she could see her Grand-dad and catch him up on their latest adventures. And of course, when they walked through town and happened upon an antique shop, who wouldn’t want to drag a group of time-travelers in there?

“It’s so strange to see these all old and rusted now,” you sighed as you picked up an old camera. “Remember the one we got in 1903?” The Doctor beamed at you.

“Oh, how could I forget!” He came up very close behind you to look over your shoulder at the device in your hands. “We took some lovely photos. I know for a fact I took a nice one of you in that short blue skirt, that sure turned heads. You were being splashed by a wave at that little beach we found,” he grinned down at you.

“That’s because you failed to tell me it was there! I was busy entertaining you, looking at that damn camera, I didn’t even see it coming!”

“Maybe cause I did that on purpose … You’re cute when you’re surprised.” You turned away to examine the camera because there was definitely a pink haze across your cheeks, and you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing it. “Well, that and the fact that I had to get back at you for throwing me under the bus at lunch.” You burst into laughter, the Doctor joining you.

“Alright you two, stop your flirtin’ let’s get a move on,” Donna smiled, earning a chuckle from Wilfred, as she beckoned for the two of you to follow her out the door of the little shop. Glancing at each other, you set the camera down and did as you were told.

Walking down the street beside the Doctor, the other two distracted in their own conversation, he nudged you with his shoulder. “You’re awfully quiet, you alright?”

“Perfect actually, I like having a relaxing afternoon, I don’t get much of those following you around the universe,” you mused.

“I wouldn’t speak too soon, you might just jinx that relaxing afternoon of yours.” Just then as you walked past a little alley, you heard a scream. Nobody else seemed to notice it, and the Doctor was quick on his feet, lurching into action. As Donna and Wilfred had disappeared into another shop, the two of you ran to investigate, happening upon a pool of deep red—almost purple—liquid.

“Is … is that blood?” you asked him as he approached it.

“No?” he answered hesitantly.

“That’s not a question you’re supposed to answer with another question.”

“Well it could be many things,” the Doctor explained, pulling out his brainy specs and his sonic screwdriver. You waited anxiously as he examined the substance, hoping that he wouldn’t try and lick it, as he was apparently prone to do. He stood back up, seeming to have come to a conclusion, so you prompted him again.

“So mister perceptive, is it blood?” He looked at you with the faintest trace of a smile.

“Nah love, only the usual,” the alien told you, trying his very best to keep his excited grin contained.

“The usual? Oh, do explain Doctor.”

“Oh you know, something alien, a little ominous … probably dangerous,” he smirked at you, a look that you thought made him look very handsome. Quite the wrong time to be having those kinds of thoughts though, isn’t it?

“Well, that can only add up to an adventure.”

“I told you that you jinxed your relaxing afternoon.”

“We both know this is going to be more fun,” you smiled. The Doctor unashamedly allowed himself to grin from ear to ear.

“Oh we were made for each other,” he claimed excitedly as he, rather abruptly, planted a kiss on your cheek. Before you had any time to question his affection let alone process it, he had grabbed your hand and took off, you doing your best to keep up with his long legs.

Clue after clue, strange event after another, you were following close behind the Doctor as he approached an old building you believed would lead you to the culprit. Sure enough, the two of you happened upon a group of pig-looking aliens, the Doctor releasing your hand only to put his in the air in response to the many weapons that were being pointed at you.

There was talk of the Shadow Proclamation, which you still didn’t quite understand, and spreading the weird alien goo all over Cardiff, but the creatures just roared with laughter. You noticed out of the corner of your eye that one was taking aim at the Doctor and you panicked. “No you don’t,” you muttered, reaching down beside you to throw a crystal looking thing in its direction. You managed to knock the blaster out of its hand, the Doctor making an impressed noise that was just barely audible. However, in a flash one of them grabbed you, turning you to face the Doctor and held yet another blaster to your head.

“Okay, so that was a bad idea,” you murmured sheepishly, “It was a good shot though, didn’t expect that.” The Doctor gave you a look telling you to be quiet, and he continued to negotiate.

“Alright look, let her go, and we can sort this out like civilized adults, right?” The one who seemed to be in charge of the lot gave another chuckle.

“No, I’ll tell you exactly how this is going to go; you’re going to hand over what you’ve taken from us, or we’ll blow her brains out. Now you wouldn’t risk the love of your life now would you?” The Doctors expression became somewhat intimidating, but you could see a sad look in his eyes.

“Only a fool would fall in love with someone as deadly as me.”

“We don’t have to go calling names, that’s not nice,” you murmured half-heartedly as the blaster was pressed more firmly against your head. You realized what you said, cringing, hoping desperately that he hadn’t heard you.

His expression changed as fast as a flash of lightning, his eyes growing wide as he turned his attention back to you. Well … he definitely heard you.

“Right, well … We’re going to talk about this later,” he stated firmly, though looking quite flustered. You looked away sheepishly and let him continue with the pig-people. “Look, I’m only going to give you one more chance, that’s all you get; let her go and leave this planet alone, or suffer your own consequences.”

There was a moment of silence, the head pig tapping his … fingers … against the desk he hid behind, contemplating.

“And is your little pet worried about your intentions?”

“Actually, quite the contrary,” you voiced. “I’m doing fine, just a bit worried about your fate because let me tell you, when the Doctor offers you a second chance you should take it, otherwise … well, let’s just say the alternative isn’t exactly a treat.” The pigman only laughed again. Seriously, these guys had to be delusional, nothing was getting through their thick pig skulls.

“Then why don’t we find out what exactly the Doctor has in store for us.” With that, he flipped open a glass case and pushed down on the trigger to release his master plan. You were harshly shoved back towards the Doctor, who caught you in his arms.

“Sorry about that, I didn’t exactly think their master plan could just be activated by pushing a button,” you explained, watching what was unfolding in front of you. The leader went to push another button, the Doctor murmuring an “I wouldn’t do that” to no avail, causing some sort of electrical force field to short-circuit and hold all the pig men where they were. The Doctor stood to his full height and looked at them all.

“See, the thing about this little device I’ve taken from you is not that it was gonna stop you,” he started, pulling a tangled ball of wires out of his pocket, and the head pig’s eyes got wide. “All I’ve done is mess with your controls. Which means for us, my dear,” he looked down at you and grabbed your hand, “is that we should run!”

The aliens yelled as you left them behind you, stuck by their own doing. You and the Doctor weaved in and out of the halls, bursting through the doors of the building, and sprinted out to the field in front of you. The building exploded, the blast sending you and the Doctor into the grass.

You picked your head up and looked behind you, seeing nothing but rubble, the Doctor standing up and offering you a hand. Taking it, you smiled at him and asked: “So let me guess, your bunch of wires messed up their machine so much that instead of blowing up London, it was like a self-destruct?”

“What did you mean when you said I shouldn’t call names?” You hadn’t been expecting that question. Usually, it annoyed you when he ignored your questions, but now that it was the other way around you had figured that maybe he would have at least waited a bit.

“I’m not gonna get an answer to my question am I?” you tried.

“No, because you already know the answer; now what did you mean?” he snapped. Not angrily, more confused if anything, but it still wasn’t a conversation you’d planned on having.

“Oh use your head Doctor, you know what you said, there’s only one thing I could’ve meant by that.” You started to walk away from him, wanting more than anything for Wilfred and Donna to show up and save you. He grabbed your wrist before you got too far and pulled you back towards him. He stood very close, looking at you with so much emotion you didn’t even know how to gauge a response. Luckily, you didn’t have to.

Before you could even think of something to say he had crashed his lips into yours, which told you exactly how he felt, and that was an emotion you knew how to respond to. He moved his hands to hold your waist gently, and your body reacted immediately, grabbing his tie and pulling him down closer to you. His mouth moved this way and that, kissing you from a handful of different angles as you draped your arms behind his neck and he held you close.

When the call for air became incessant, he rested his forehead against yours, never relinquishing his hold on you. When the both of you opened your eyes to look at each other, you were reduced to nothing but giggles.

“Somehow all of this just makes sense,” you murmured contentedly.

“Mm? And why’s that?”

“You’ve always got aliens and explosions in your wake. I don’t know, it’s just very … you.” He was grinning from ear to ear, the soft look in his eyes being replaced very quickly by his usual, playful, eager one.

“Speaking of aliens and explosions, as sweet as this is,” he paused, leaning in to steal another kiss from you, “we should probably go find Donna and tell her what’s happened, make sure she’s alright.” You moved to do just that, but the Doctor kept you close for one more kiss. Satisfied for the time being, he released you, his hand falling into yours, and the two of you made your way back onto the street where you had left the rest of your party. Donna, of course, had missed everything. Her and Wilfred had been in and out of shops and had been testing out noise-canceling headphones when the explosion had gone off.

“And the both of you didn’t even realize we were gone?” you asked, not knowing whether to be amused or offended. Donna looked at her grand-dad guiltily, following his gaze when he nodded toward you and the Doctor. Seeing a hand around your waist for the first time since your little reunion, she beamed.

“Well, I’ve gotta be completely honest with you, after seeing the two of ya in the antique store we wanted to see if, maybe if we left you alone, that something’ might happen,” Wilfred explained, nodding towards the hand on your waist. As if realizing his own actions the Doctor was quick to retract his hand, a blush coming to his cheeks. It was kind of cute if you were honest, you’d never seen the Doctor blush.

“And judgin’ by lover-boy here, I’d say we were right!” Donna laughed, giving her grand-dad a very proud high-five. The tall man beside you rolled his eyes.

“Okay, if the two of you are done then, I’m headed back to the TARDIS.” He turned on his heel and walked out of the shop. He grinned to himself when he heard the door open again, and saw you appear out of the corner of his eye.

“I can’t believe them,” you sighed, finding your spot by his side again. “From Donna I expected, but Wilfred?” The Doctor giggled.

“He’s certainly got a few tricks up his sleeve, always a surprise when he’s around.” The two of you laughed, and the Doctor put an arm around your shoulder as he made his way back to his blue box, placing a kiss on the top of your head.

#prompt request #anonymous request #request #my writing #Tenth Doctor #tenth doctor x reader #10th doctor #10th doctor x reader #doctor who #the doctor x reader #the doctor #I really like this one #like I'm shocked that I actually wrote that #its got a whole alien invasion and everything

[cupsofsuga]

Lines for the prompt shot - What you don't know is sometimes for the best ///\\\ Promise me that your love is still mine - Seokjin or Hoseok }Please and thank you{ 🐩

FLORA  ━ SEOKJIN*:･。.

WARNING - This is a yandere au, meaning the following may be triggering to some viewers.  I am not trying to discriminate the boys in any way, this is for entertainment purposes. Viewer discretion is advised!!!

Gif Creds - X

Prompt List - X

Literally, NO ONE requests Seokjin and tbh, it’s kinda disappointing. Thank you for paying attention to our worldwide handsome!!

SEOKJIN

��      "What you don’t know is sometimes for the best” & “Promise me that your love is still mine”.

━━━ A birdhouse swings from the branches of an old oak tree, swaying back and forth, back and forth. The soft symphony of wind chimes is heard from the distance and the fog coating the early spring floor is almost blinding, but not enough to where you have lost vision of your greenhouse.

You’re reaching late twenties, life not nearly fulfilled to the brim, but you are okay. You’ve spent the beginning of your adult life reciting a million cliches, thrown away a million memories of old lovers like they were nothing, dialed memorized numbers, never pressing call. On repeat, on repeat, the cycle never ended until you had finally woken up, risen from the ashes you created, arose from the soil as a weed into the blossom of a mesmerizing rose.

You now refuse to find comfort in those who will soon vanish from your life without a goodbye, rather finding the peace and comfort needed within yourself. You were as vibrant as neon street lights in the dead as night, as tragically beautiful as an electric storm. But you’ve traded these traits, now of delicate as the caress of an angel’s wings, touch filled with the essence of a star, the dust of the moon making up of your eyes.

The wolves have scurried, the ocean has calmed, the sun will soon rise.

Everything will be ok now.

Wind is harsh this morning, which you have accepted already. Sun had hidden behind the clouds, a chill wind embracing your skin, but you have found love within these times. Hot or cold, you’ll always seek the good in these things. 

The ringing of a bell echoes throughout the greenhouse. The business you owned was small, but nonetheless, you loved it with every fiber of your being.

A man, age seemingly around yours, shoulders broad, smile electrifying, a smile like lightning as it strikes down your spine. He reeks of confidence, but you can tell that deep within, he owns a heart lie a mosaic, shattered shards of glass that have been broken one too many times. You can read it in his eyes, even though his posture and facial expression establish a sort of dominance. His eyes, golden honey brown colored, glassy and watery, giving a sense on innocence but you know better than that. You can see how it’s been shattered like a broken mirror, his soul is heavy and messy, entirely an illness that contains dark memories.

But, then again, your job wasn’t to read people’s expressions, it was to expand your lovely greenhouse and to give others the beauty you have created, all for the price of a few bucks. And you love what you’re during. It’s not like you gain millions of dollars on a daily basis like other upcoming starlet’s, but this business does pay enough to make a living and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

When you’re inside the foggy greenhouse, you’re in your kindest state, Seokjin sees it crystal clear. Rose mist is hung through the estate, eyes shimmering a dove-colored glimmer, the roots of the oak trees outside twirling through his chest and squeezing at his heart. But, this wasn’t the very first time he had seen you, just your first encounter. And it felt like wild violets and fresh daisies blooming within his chest, as it always was, but with those eyes kissed with the water of the sea, stars making up of the freckles of their face stunned him into silence.

You ask him if he needs help finding anything, informing him of a deal (as if he didn’t know already), to which he chokes out a simple answer, denying you kindly of your help. You nod, walking away as his heart begins to weep as if he is buried deep under land, suffocating on his own silent screams. But you’re an open field, full of precious flowers and silenced winds to where he can take a deep breath of fresh air. Whether it’s late at night without your acknowledgment or during the short time of stalking you during your precious time spent with your greens, without you knowing, of course.

But he has had a taste. A very small taste of the infinite joy that blooms on the recesses of your soul. 

And he craves more.

You return to the other room, dedicated to your studies for college and others. He follows, though, elegant and rich with every step, a hypnotic spotlight with the simple glance. Jin finds you in the office, textbook open as you turn to him. You open your mouth to lightheartedly ask him if he needed you, but before even a murmur of a word can leave your throat, he’s got you pinned against the wall, forearm against your neck. Through his eyes, you see the shipwreck that makes up of his soul. He’s broken, so obviously broken that your eyes share so sign of fear, more empathy.

“You’re not scared?” he asks, voice demanding rather than shy, as it was earlier.

“…You won’t hurt me; I can see it. I can see it in your eyes… You’re too broken to hurt somebody.” You voice reeks of confidence, but fear manages to linger. Begging him to lay off with fear or confusion won’t work, which you learned the hard way. It flies over Seokjin’s head, though, and his eyes soften in surprise. 

“And what I’m trying to learn is what lies underneath…”

You understand him.

You understand him.

This moment glitters with stars, pins of gold making up on the single time spent this close to you. Your kindness has shattered and he has seen the confidence underneath and now he knows.

He knows you’re just like the mosaic he is.

“W-… What you don’t know-.. i-is sometimes for the best, ok? You… Y/N, you’ll be my flower, I’ll be your sun and rain. I’ll be everything you ever need, ‘cause I know I need you even as just the weather compared to a single flower when millions exist. Promise me that your love is still mine; promise me you’ll always be my flower.”

#seokjin #seokjin imagine #seokjin one shot #seokjin headcanon #seokjin drabble #seokjin x reader #seokjin x you #bts #bangtan #bts imagines #bts one shot #bts oneshot #bts headcanons #bts drabble #bts x reader #bts x you #bts yandere au #yandere bts #yandere!bts #yandere!seokjin #yandere seokjin #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere drabble #yandere oneshot #yandere headcanons #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere male

[technoplaguearchive]

Cruel To Be Kind (2/4)

Midoriya just wants to be a hero, Bakugou's hero, but Bakugou isn't having any of it.

Pairing: MidoriyaxBakugou / BakuDeku Rating: Teen & Up Category: M/M Fandom: My Hero Academia | Boku No Hero Academia Originally Published: 2019/04/06 on AO3 Chapter: 2 of 4

Previous || Next

Midoriya Izuku could not be described as particularly imposing or tall. He was a little shorter than other men his age and he looked, for all intents and purposes, like a changeling child; all wide eyes, freckles, and innocence.

Bakugou was starting to believe in the changeling child theory a little more at this instant, seeing the usually cherubic face twisted with disappointment and grim determination. That green energy that sizzled over his body when he fought seemed to be harnessed wholly in Midoriya’s eyes, eyes that were slowly burning a hole in Bakugou’s face. He could feel the disappointment radiating off that small frame.

He didn’t need to deal with this shit. He didn’t need Deku’s holier than thou attitude tonight, especially not after the day he’d had. A day that had just pushed him more to come out when he couldn’t stand being alone in his house with his own thoughts. All day he had heard about how Deku would have handled the situation better and he couldn’t take it anymore. He didn’t need a reminder of the pretty perfect boy’s utterly perfect way of dealing with everything in life. He didn’t need to see that heartbroken look crossing his face when he realized Bakugou wasn’t backing down. And wasn’t that just dumb because all their history together should have taught Midoriya that Bakugou didn’t cave to anyone, let alone a nerd like him.

“Move, nerd.” He shoulders roughly past Midoriya and tries to blend back in with the crowd by the bar. Close to the door, easy to get away after he took this shot. Speaking of... he tosses it back with a throw of his head and leans into the wall behind him. Deku, annoyingly, is still attached to him and watching him with impossibly huge green eyes. What the fuck was with this guy’s eyes? Who could possibly express so much with just their eyes? In all their years together, it had been one of the things that had bothered him; those eyes were fucking unnerving. “The fuck you following me for, Deku,” he growls out when the shorter man doesn’t stop his staring.

At the mention of the hero’s name a few heads swivel in their direction and Midoriya’s cheeks turn a wonderful shade of pink, making the freckles stand out more. Bakugou can’t help staring at those little perfect dots. Everything about the nerd was perfect- and wasn’t that just stupidly fucking infuriating? He watches as the hero’s scarred hands cover his face, trying to hide himself from people now starting to pull out their phones. The girl closest to him has hers out the quickest and already has it pointed at them by the time he snarls in her direction and swipes it from her. “Your mother ever tell you it’s fucking rude to video someone in a private setting?” The girls face pales as he leans across her to drop the device into her purse and he smirks at the reaction. Good, let them be afraid. Midoriya, when he finally looks back to see if the idiot was still cowering, looks aghast at the entire situation and is still standing there like he must babysit Bakugou to make sure he behaves. Gross.

“Ka-Kacchan?”

Ugh, here it comes.

This time Midoriya tugs on his wrist as he says his name. Bakugou rips his hand away, more forcefully than needed truth be told, and stares down into the face that haunts him. “Kacchan, maybe you should calm down. I- I can take you home?” He looks so endearing and honest as he says it, making Bakugou’s stomach twist. “I know I just got here but I really don’t mind if you need a ride home because you seem awfully drunk and this really isn’t like you. Should you really be out right now? Do you have to work tomorrow? Oh! I guess if you did then you wouldn’t-“

Bakugou slaps a hand over his mouth and leans in close to growl, “I wouldn’t fucking be here if I had to work, nerd, so stop your mumbling. It’s annoying and you’re drawing extra attention.”

Midoriya’s eyes skate side to side to see if anyone was paying attention. They were not, meaning Bakugou was just being a bully again to cover his feelings. Gently, Midoriya pries the blonde’s hand from his mouth and holds it between his scarred ones. They weren’t necessarily rivals anymore, not like how they were before at least, but this is still too much for Bakugou to take so he pulls his hand away to stuff it in his pocket.

“Kacchan, please let me take you home. You’re not acting like yourself and I don’t think the public needs to see a top hero acting like this. It might hurt your rating.” Midoriya’s words are full of concern that Bakugou doesn’t want to hear. He didn’t need this stupid talk, he’s given it to himself at least a hundred times over the last six months and he ignores it each time too. The green haired doofus is still talking when Bakugou tunes back into his rant. “I didn’t think you’d ever start drinking like this. How long has this been going on? It doesn’t seem like it’s for fun. Kirishima said that you’ve been doing this a lot more recently but at home. I’m glad that at least you’re staying home for it, no one can get video of you if you’re not out-“

Bakugou tunes him out again. Once Deku got on a rant there was no stopping him until he reached a conclusion or wore himself out. He focuses instead on starting to count the freckles on the green haired man’s face, realizing after the fifth one that he was staring at the same freckle because they were all starting to blur. Fuck, okay, so the alcohol was catching up. The glass in his hand finds its way to the small ledge on the wall- shit that would hurt if someone ran into it, that couldn’t be safe- and he leans forward into Deku’s space to tower over him and maybe intimidate him into shutting the hell up.

The effect, to his dismay, is quite the opposite.

Midoriya’s eyes squint up at him beneath green lashes and he stares up into Bakugou’s face and Bakugou had to wonder what Midoriya was seeing right now that would make him utter the next stupid sentence of, “You drink like a fish dying for water.”

Okay, that was out of left field and possibly the stupidest thing he’d ever heard come from Midoriya's mouth, but the response from the blonde is immediate and just as dumb. “Then I’m a fucking fish,” he gives the other man a smile that’s all teeth & malice, “glub glub, motherfucker.”

Satisfaction.

Midoriya’s face contorts into confusion for several seconds as he processes the ridiculous phrase. However he opens his mouth again and ruins it all once more. “Let’s get you home, Bakugou. You’re obviously not feeling well,” he says as he reaches for Bakugou’s arm.

Drunk or not, years of training has honed Bakugou’s instincts to be razor sharp and he twists away, knocking back into the previously mentioned ledge and sending his glass tumbling. Midoriya is quick with his own reflexes and catches it several inches before it hits the floor, green energy crackling and dissipating as quickly as it came. Bakugou is impressed and can tell Midoriya notices when he looks back up at him. Seeing the small smile tug at the green haired man’s lips is enough to reign Bakugou’s interest in and he schools his features quickly into annoyance. His arm throbs with pain and he knows it’s going to bruise tomorrow, if not tonight. It certainly wouldn't be the worst injury every for him, just the dumbest.

Midoriya turns to leave and Bakugou isn't sure if he's relieved or not at seeing the man’s back to him. The indecision is short lived when he watches him push through the crowd to deposit the glass at the bar and then turn back. By the time that passive face graces his vision once more he's decided he's going to err on the side of relieved that he was leaving but now just annoyed that he came back.

Slowly, like reaching out to a wounded animal, Midoriya places a hand near the sore spot on Bakugou’s arm, testing for a reaction. That scarred hand slides down to cover the sore spot and Bakugou hisses a breath in between clenched teeth. He's torn between ecstasy at being touched and pain at feeling coddled. They stay that way for several long seconds; Midoriya’s hand gently covering his injury and Bakugou staring down at it like he's never seen it before.

In the end, his pride wins out when he sees a flash of pink and red in the corner of his eye. Looks like the rest of the group came to find them... Or more likely to find Deku so they could fawn over him some more.

The thought is like an electric current jolting through his body, a feeling like being hit by one of Kaminari’s stray blasts ricocheting from the place where Midoriya is touching him to his brain and back again. It's enough to bring him to his senses and cause him to pull away from Midoriya’s scorching touch. Just in time, too, as Ashido and Kirishima spot them and make a beeline towards them, their looks equal parts pitying and relieved.

Kirishima claps Bakugou on the shoulder and hauls him into a bone-crushing hug. ”Oh man, I’m so glad we found you guys!” The tall redhead pulls back to look into his friend’s face and asks the loaded question, ”You guys okay?”

Bakugou opens his mouth to snap out ”Of course I am” but is beaten to the chase by Midoriya, who gives the exact opposite answer; ”I think Bakugou drank a little too much, I was offering to take him home. He still lives in the same apartment right?”

Were they really fucking talking like he wasn't standing right there? Did he suddenly become invisible in the last five seconds?! He's about to snap at them when Kirishima nods to Midoriya’s question. ”Yeah, the big flat by that bombass ramen place and with that knock-off coffee chain I can’t remember the name of.”

Ashido pats Kirishima’s shoulder consolingly. “You can’t remember it because you drank a lot of rainbows tonight, honey.”

“Oh, yeah that sounds right,” Kirishima chirps with a bright grin.

How was the idiot so happy that he couldn’t remember the name of the coffee chain? - Actually, Bakugou can’t remember it either right now. Shit.

Midoriya’s hand wraps back around Bakugou’s arm while he’s distracted and he gives him a slight tug, pulling the unsuspecting blonde slightly off balance and into him. Midoriya seems slightly surprised by this, if his face is any indication, while Kirishima and Ashido look positively delighted. Midoriya lets out a little awkward laugh. “I’ll get Kacchan home then. You guys have a good night,” he offers with a wave as he starts trying to tug Bakugou along behind him. Shocked at the brazenness of the green haired shortie, Bakugou lets himself be tugged along for all of five steps before he shakes free and stumbles back into Kirishima, who thankfully catches him under the arms and releases him quickly. Midoriya’s face is sullen when he turns back to see where his ward had disappeared to. Bakugou swears he catches a flash of pain when Midoriya sees Kirishima helping him but it's gone as quick as it came, leaving the blonde sure he was just imagining it.

”I don't need you to take me home, ” he growls. To his own ears, the words are a little loose around the edges; a sure sign he was verging on needing to be done with drinking. When Midoriya reaches back out to him he slaps the hand away with a pop of sparks, feeling only mildly regretful when he sees the shock register on the green haired man’s face. He can’t recall ever rejecting Midoriya so violently after their reconciliation.

“Kacchan, please-”

“Quit with your fucking hero complex, Deku. I don’t need saving. I don’t need your pity.”

“It’s not pity!”

The outburst seems to take even Midoriya by surprise and he claps his hands over his mouth. The sight would have made Bakugou laugh if he wasn’t so aggravated by the idiot’s need to protect him, as it stands he just wants to punch a hole in the nearest wall.

Kirishima, loveable idiot that he is, moves quickly between the pair with a large, yet forced, grin. “Come on guys, let’s just grab another drink and go back upstairs and hang out,” he turns to face the small green haired man beside him and gazes at him imploringly, “What do you say, Midoriya? I know you just got here, I’d hate to see you leave already.” Kirishima turns on the big sad eyes and Bakugou is glad he can only see the side of the idiot’s face. He knew that look well enough to know prolonged exposure almost guaranteed the receiver would do anything Kirishima asked. Deku, being the pushover that he was, would probably cave soon.

So it comes as a surprise to Bakugou when the nerd looks around Kirishima to pin him in place with a squinty-eyed stare. He could see that power in his eyes again, solely focused on him and determined. Bakugou feels a small shudder roll up his spine but swallows it down before it can overtake him. He knew the power that Deku possessed, knew if he wanted it to this would get ugly quick. Something feral in his mind snaps at that and Bakugou smirks, letting it overtake his face. Fine, if the nerd wanted to play then they’d play.

“Yeah Deku, you just got here,” he sing-songs smugly, “go hang out with everyone. I don’t need a babysitter, I’m a big boy.” Somewhere to his left he hears Ashido’s curse of “Oh fucking hell boys” then Kirishima is grabbing Bakugou around the waist to keep him away from Midoriya. He wasn’t even aware he’d moved towards him.

Midoriya nods to Kirishima who releases Bakugou and backs off. Some silent signal of ‘I got this’, which was just aggravating since when were they close enough to read each other? That feral beast in Bakugou’s head rises again, not liking that Kirishima was buddying up- no, no it didn’t like that Midoriya was getting close to Kirishima.

“I’m fucking out of here,” he snarls as he turns to exit their small group. It’s a fucking wonder they hadn’t drawn more of a crowd, as it is the people immediately surrounding their group trip over themselves to move away from him.

He sidles up to the bar again and, spotting a few drinks sitting there, grabs a shot and downs it. Fuck whoever it belonged to, he needed it more. The blue haired boy next to him gapes in disbelief and Bakugou tosses him a sneer for the trouble. A scarred hand wraps around his arm in a vice-grip from behind and starts hauling him back through the crowd, towards the exit of the club that he knew deposited into a shitty grimy alleyway. He didn’t really want to think right now about how he knew that alley was there or how gross it is, he just knew that was the only way out that direction. Which was baffling; wasn’t it making more of a scene to drag him through this crowd?

When the door closes behind them with a small yet ominous click, Midoriya throws Bakugou across the alley so they’re face-to-face. He can still hear the click of the door in his mind, the note of finality in it. So it was gonna be a fight, was it? Good, he could use a fight.

He steps forward towards the other man only to stop when he speaks. “I don’t want to fight you, Kacchan. You’re not even walking straight.” Bakugou scoffs at this and stumbles back into the wall behind him. “See,” Midoriya yells, “you can’t do anything right now without help. Just let me take you home.” He takes a tentative step towards Bakugou and reaches out, only to let his hand drop back down. “Please, Katsuki,” he whispers pleadingly.

That voice is his undoing in this moment. How dare Midoriya think him incapable! Did the nerd think he was better than him? Did he think he couldn’t take care of himself? He didn’t need saving, he wasn’t some helpless fucking idiot. And he was going to prove it.

Bakugou snarls and steps towards the green haired man before him, reaching out and steadying himself on his shoulder. He leans in close so they’re almost face to face and whispers with a growl, “Listen here, you little shit-“

Midoriya rears back and shoves Bakugou off of him. “No! You listen!” There’s desperation on his face, causing Bakugou to be stunned into silence. “You’re not fine! Why won’t you let me take you home? I thought we were past this, Kacchan.” Midoriya looks away now, ashamed, as if he’s said too much. His cheeks are stained a pretty pink that draws Bakugou’s eye. He bet they felt as warm as they looked... Nope, not the issue right now. He had to remember he was mad at Deku.

The nerd is still talking, rambling now about their past and how he thinks Bakugou can do better than this and what’s wrong because this isn’t like him- What the fuck did Deku know anyways? He didn’t know what kind of stress Bakugou was under!

Finally his last tether to staying any semblance of calm in this moment snaps and he lashes out with a poorly aimed explosion towards Midoriya, who sidesteps it easy and grabs Bakugou by the arm to sling him back into a wall. Bakugou is stunned momentarily before he regains his senses and turns to lash out again but Midoriya beats him to the punch, grabbing Bakugou’s fist and pushing him back again. This time he follows him back into the wall and holds the angry blonde in place with a forearm to the chest, faces close together. Bakugou takes the time to study the stern set to the green haired man’s brow, the way the space between his brows crinkled together and folded a freckle in half, the way his eyes looked sad even when they were angry-

“Kacchan you’re not even listening to me.” He presses his arm into his chest a little firmer for emphasis and sighs. “Why won’t you let me help you? We’re friends,” he trails off sadly and looks away aimlessly down the alley, “I thought we were finally friends.”

“Tch.”

Midoriya’s head snaps back at the signature noise.

“I’m not your charity case, Deku. Don’t know how many times I have to tell you that.”

That spark lights back up in the other man’s eyes and Bakugou can feel the deranged grin straining his face. He loved it when the nerd was ready to fight, it was better than that pathetic pitying look he usually wore. Maybe he could just push him over the edge and get this itch out of his system...

“I’m not some fragile little doll you need to protect like all your other friends,” later he’d realize he had confirmed they were friends, but not right now, “I don’t need fucking Deku to swoop in and save me. You’ve been doing this shit all our lives and I don’t fucking need your help. I don’t need anyone’s fucking help.”

He can see that fire snap and crackle in Midoriya’s eyes and the grin threatens to break his face now. Fucking finally.

Midoriya shoves against Bakugou before releasing him and jumping back in a crackle of green lightning, the energy dissipating as soon as he lands. Bakugou, meanwhile, can feel the sparks in his palms. He wanted to blow something up, to show he didn’t need anyone’s help. He didn’t need the pity. Midoriya has other plans though.

”Stop being like this!” The outburst startles Bakugou into letting the explosions building in him to die down and he straightens. Midoriya isn't done yet. ”Stop acting like you're on your own when you're not! You have friends, let us help you. We care about you, you idiot!” Bakugou can see the nerd sniffling now, tears pooling in the corners of his bright eyes. ”I care about you” he whispers, the quiet of the alley letting the words carry and caress Bakugou’s ears.

The look on the blonde’s face is one of shock and confusion which causes a derisive chuckle to slip from Midoriya. “Of course you don’t get it. You don’t think of anyone but yourself.” When Bakugou opens his mouth to refute this statement Midoriya holds a hand up to stop him. “You’re cold and unfeeling and blind, Kacchan. I’ve known this for awhile now and I’ve accepted it. We all have.”

Bakugou can feel the wetness building in his eyes and it agitates him, spiraling him into a frustrated rage. He wasn’t crying! He wouldn’t cry! Fuck this nerd! What did Midoriya know anyways?

“What is that supposed to mean, Deku?”

“Kirishima’s been in love with you since high school and you just let him keep acting like that-“

“Kirishima knows the score. You think it didn’t come up after all this time? You think I’d just let my best friend play the fool? Do you really think that low of me?” He doesn’t want to admit it but if Midoriya really did think so little of him, he didn’t know what he’d do. He’d spent so long trying to prove himself better than everyone only for Midoriya to shrink him right back down to the level of that scared kid who didn’t think he’d ever be good enough. “Well you know what? Fuck you! I’m not as fucking heartless as you make me out to be! You and everyone else think they know me and you don’t!”

Midoriya just looks exhausted now, the fight having seemingly drained out of him at seeing Bakugou so desperate and worked up. “We do know you. I know you, you big idiot. I’ve known you my whole life. Who else would know you better?,” he rubs his hands over his face and throws his arms wide, “You play like you don’t need anyone but you do, Kacchan! You more than anyone, needs someone, so just let me help! Let me just take you home. I don’t know why you’re getting so defensive about this.” His arms drop to his sides as he lets out a long-suffering sigh.

Bakugou’s temper snaps again, a chord pulled too tight and on the verge of breaking altogether. “Because you and every other fucking wannabe treat me with kid gloves!” He stalks towards Midoriya on the opposite side of the alley and pushes into him until the smaller man’s back hits the wall. “In case you haven’t noticed, Deku,” he sneers, “I’m not a little kid. I’m not some fragile little boy that needs a hero.”

Their faces are close now, too close almost, but close enough for Bakugou to feel Midoriya’s panting little breaths hit his chin and see his own reflection in his eyes. When he reaches up to place his hands on either side to cage the smaller man in, he can hear the soft little half-gasp that slips past his lips and he represses a shudder at it. God, this was too good of a look on him…

Midoriya swallows thickly and Bakugou unconsciously tracks the movement with a predatory gaze, red eyes burning with barely controlled anger and something he didn’t like to admit out loud. It’s the unnamed part that is his downfall, however, as Midoriya takes full use of the distraction to punch Bakugou hard in the stomach and send him backwards enough to put distance between them. When Bakugou finally gets control of himself several seconds later Midoriya is staring him down in determination.

“I know you’re not a little kid anymore. I’ve known that for awhile now. You’re strong and confident in ways you didn’t used to be.” He lowers his fist and stands up straight to stare Bakugou in the eyes. “I wouldn’t love you so much if you were that same kid.”

There’s a static hum starting back up in his ears, similar to when he’d seen Midoriya show up on that balcony, except there’s nowhere to fall back into and no Kirishima to hold onto to ground him. So he falls backwards until he hits the wall behind him, fingers gripping into the old brick as if that would be enough to ground him and quiet the insistent fucking buzzing in his head.

No. No no no no. Fucking no.

Midoriya did not just say what he thinks he did, did he? He couldn’t have. This has to be something he’s hearing from all the alcohol. He just imagining this shit and hearing what he wants to hear. His drunk ass brain is conjuring shit up because there is no way Izuku Midoriya just casually tossed out that he loved Bakugou. And if he did, he had to have meant it in some different way-

“Why else do you think I care so much what happens to you, Kacchan? Why else would I deal with your shitty attitude all the time and defend you to the public?”

Oh fuck had he been muttering out loud? Shit, he was around the nerd too much if he had picked up on that habit. Fuck his drunken ass brain he didn’t need this shit right now. Although it might have been only natural, they did grow up together and certain things were bound to rub off on each other. But no, none of that nonsense right now, he needed to address Deku’s completely idiotic ass statement.

“No one asked you to defend me, you stupid nerd. I didn’t ask you to care, either.”

Midoriya barks out a laugh then snaps his mouth closed quickly, as if he hadn’t meant for that to be out loud. When he lowers his hands there’s a sad putting smile on his face that raises Bakugou’s hackles.

“No one had to ask me. That’s not how love works. I just…. love you anyways.” He takes a tentative step towards the blonde then stops when Bakugou backs against the wall with a snarl. “Can you please let me take you home now so you can sleep this off and forget it all happened?”

What kind of shit was that? Who gives a fucked up love confession then tries to act like it didn’t happen? Did Midoriya not want to love him? Well screw that. If Bakugou had to be in love with this nerd for the past five years then he had to suffer too! And this was hands down the worst confession ever. This was not how he ever anticipated any of this going down. He had a plan, dammit! He was going to show up to Midoriya’s house with flowers and that stupid candy he liked and there was a speech he needed to work out and and- NO!

“Fuck your confession, nerd. No you can’t take me home and fuck you for trying to treat me like an invalid.” With one last growl he shoves off the wall and towards the door to go back inside.

“Where are you going,” Midoriya cries out, voice high with desperation.

“Back inside. I need another fucking drink.” He casts a scathing look over his shoulder. “Don’t fucking follow me.”

Bakugou can feel Midoriya’s eyes on him as he drags himself back into the bar, adrenaline drained and leaving him tired and foggy. Another drink would fix this. Or maybe a few more. However many it took to forget this entire fucking night had happened.

#bakudeku #bakugou x midoriya #midoriya x bakugo #my hero academia #mha fanfiction #bnha fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction

[dannyphandump]

Ectober Week Day 3: Necromancy

(Day 1 | 2 | 3) 

As if I wasn’t already being super over-the-top with Ectober this month, this one comes with a full-length fic.  I can’t promise it’s great, because this is the first DP fic I’ve written, but it at least makes the picture make more sense, so there’s that.  Anyway, hope you enjoy!

(Read on AO3 here)

“Sam!  Sam, can you hear me?  Sam!”

He knew he shouldn’t shake her shoulders.  He shouldn’t move her at all; she would be in shock, after taking a hit like that.  In shock.  He was in shock, wasn’t he?  Seeing her charred skin through the hole in her shirt, the thin trail of blood dripping down her lips, the blank gloss to her violet eyes -

Shock.  I don’t have time for shock.  He wouldn’t be feeling it if he was still Phantom, he was sure, but now he was just Fenton, useless, useless Fenton, because he’d used the Wail on Ember and Skulker - why did it have to be both of them?  He could handle either on their own, or even Skulker and Technus, but now he hadn’t known - he hadn’t known Skulker was lurking in the background, how could he have known?  Just because he had said they were dating -

He shook his head, trying to disperse the frantic, useless thoughts.  It didn’t matter how they’d gotten here.  He could kill himself over this later.  Right now it was Sam who was dying, who wasn’t responding to his touch, his words, her eyes just staring sightlessly up at the starry night.

“Sam… you’ll be okay, you’ll…”  His voice choked off into a pathetic sob.  She wasn’t a ghost.  She couldn’t just shake off one of Skulker’s ectoblasts like he did.  Particularly not one that should’ve been targeting him.

One designed to kill.

His shaking hands lingered on her arms before attempting to find her pulse.  Was it just his fingers trembling, or was that her carotid artery throbbing weakly?  He couldn’t tell.  This was Sam’s field of expertise - or at least competence.  She was always the one checking him for injuries, not the other way around. Even Tucker was better than him, but he was away at a tech camp for the week.

Danny squeezed his eyes shut.  Bit back another sob.  Sam was going to be alright.  Sam was always alright.  Even when she risked her life to help him, day after day, week after week…

I should have known.  I should have…

A police siren in the distance shook him from his thoughts.  Could they help Sam?  Could a hospital?  She wasn’t half-ghost; unlike him, she could use a normal hospital.  He just had… had to get her there…

Sam, your parents are going to kill me, he thought with a hysterical, shaking chuckle.  Better me than you, though.

He took one more deep breath hoping it would calm him - it didn’t - and then felt deep for his core.  It took a stronger mental tug to transform, after draining his energy with the Ghostly Wail.  The white ring around his torso shuddered for a second before splitting and enveloping him.

With his ghost form came a wash of cold, and a wash of clarity.  Colors became sharper, scents more pungent, sounds more piercing.  If there had been many sounds, anyway - he could only hear his own ectoplasm-pumping heart and the faint whistle of wind through the trees.  He knelt over Sam, pressing his ear to her chest, not caring how awkward that would have been if she were awake.

No stirring of air in her lungs.  No heartbeat.  No… no life.

Sam was gone.

Dead, his mind nagged him.  You’ve been dealing with death for two years now.  You should know better than anyone to accept it.

That wasn’t true.  He was the only one who could be dead and not accept it.  But Sam… she wasn’t… she couldn’t…

“Sam… it’s okay, it’s okay, sometimes this happens, right?  People just pass out, and… and they can be revived, like with CPR or electricity or…”

Shock.  He was Phantom; he shouldn’t be affected like this.  Physiologically, anyway.  Mentally…

Just get her to the freaking hospital, you idiot!

His breath came in short gasps as he scooped her up in his arms - limp, dead - unconscious - dead - and he floated into the air.

That should’ve been it.  He should’ve flown to the hospital, as fast as humanly (ghostly?) possible.

But he just had to see his breath again.  In the middle of August.

“You’re freaking kidding me,” he muttered, head already swiveling.  “I don’t have time for you!  Get lost or I’ll skip the thermos and blast you right into your after-afterlife!”

It was a testament to just how screwed up his life was that he could even manage a witty threat, under the circumstances.  He should be freaking out. He was freaking out.  Sam, unconscious - dead - he couldn’t handle.  But ghosts trying to kill him?  That was normal.

At least it would be, if ghosts were trying to kill him.  But no one appeared to taunt him back.  Either the ghosts were getting smarter, or… he didn’t know.  As Phantom, he could see invisible ghosts when he focused.  There wasn’t anywhere to hideaway the top of this hill; his Wail had destroyed the trees and stage, where Ember had been holding a “secret” concert before he and Sam had broken it up.  

Sam…

Forget the ghost sense; he had to get help.  He turned to fly towards town, when -

“Danny?”  

He looked down at the soft, uncertain voice.  “Sam?”

It had been her voice; he’d know it anywhere.  But the form in his arms was as motionless as before.

“Danny… what are you… what are you holding?”

This time, he processed that the voice was coming from behind him.  He swiveled to face - nothing.  Nothing, but a swirling pool of blue mist.

He recoiled, jetting back over the edge of the hill.  “I don’t know what kind of ghost you are, but stay back!  I’m leaving!”

Ghost fighting could wait a few minutes, a few precious minutes while things were looking worse and worse for -

Sam.  Oh - OH -

The mist rose and coalesced into just what he was afraid of.  Because, if that was Sam - if that was Sam -

“No,” he whispered, hovering back to the ground.  

The mist finally took full form.  It - she - had bright white hair, just like his, and he couldn’t help noticing how her usual gravity-defying ponytail now flickered like a tiny flame.  Her skin glowed a faint blue, the same color that had crept into her eyes.  Eyes that were staring at the body he held in his arms.

She cursed.

“Sam, I-” He what?  What could he say?  I let Skulker catch you from behind and now you’re a freaking ghost?  He must be having a nightmare.  Maybe Nocturne was back.  Ghosts weren’t supposed to materialize this quickly after death, anyway, and - and Sam wasn’t supposed to be dead!

“I’m dead.  Holy-”  Another stream of curse words his parents would have washed his mouth out with soap for saying.  “I’m.  I’m a ghost.  Put - put my body down Danny, oh, this is weird, this is so weird…”

“Don’t freak out!”  He yelled, as if he wasn’t freaking out himself.  He set her - her body - down, ran a hand through his hair, tried to look calm.  For her, he could do that, even if he couldn’t do it for himself.

“Sure, let me think about that for a second.  Oh yeah, I’m dead!  I’m allowed to freak out!”

“You - maybe you’re not all the way dead!”  He threw back.  She arched an eyebrow and crossed her arms, just the way she would have in real life.  If this was a dream, it was way too realistic for his liking.  “I mean… you are dead.”  That hurt to admit out loud.  “But we can - we can fix this.”

“How?  Do your ghost powers include necromancy, Danny?”

“W-well… no, but…”  He looked down at the body on the ground.  Her body.  Jeez, this was weird.  He considered pinching himself, in case it was a dream.  Not that it would’ve helped, since he’d taken plenty of hits from Ember tonight…

Sam’s ghost - Sam, it was still her - was still floating there, waiting for an answer.

“You could try possessing your body,” he said with a wince.  It wasn’t his best idea, but it couldn’t hurt, right?  Most ghosts didn’t materialize until after their bodies would’ve decayed, so - theoretically - there was no reason it couldn’t work, unless her body was damaged beyond repair -

Sam looked like she was trying to take a deep breath, but it didn’t do much.  Regular, non-halfa ghosts didn’t have lungs.  At this stage, it looked like she didn’t even have ectoplasm yet; her translucent form shifted and shuddered with each gust of wind.

“Yeah.  Yeah, I’ll give it a shot.”

She floated forward, placed her hand on her body, and phased inside.  Danny held his breath, expecting her eyes to flutter any moment, for her to smile in relief, probably punch him, and then let him carry her home like nothing had happened.

But life didn’t work like that, apparently.

After a few breathless moments, Sam’s ghost phased out of her body again.  This time, she looked even paler than before, if that was possible.

“No go.”  She shook her head.  “It was - it was dark in there,” she murmured, voice shaking where her body didn’t.  Danny remembered how his parents always said ghosts couldn’t feel emotion.  Their ectoplasmic bodies didn’t carry the same kind of physical reactions that humans did, but her voice… she was terrified, even if she didn’t want to admit it.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, as if that would mean anything.  It was his fault - all of this - and she… and she…

Sam cursed again.  “Don’t cry, Danny.  I can’t cry. It’s insensitive.”

That might have been a joke.  It was hard to tell, under the circumstances.  Either way, she was right.  He wiped his damp eyes on his sleeve, but a few tears still escaped and dripped down onto her body.

Her body.  How was he going to explain this to her parents? Even two years after the accident, they didn’t know about her ghost fighting.  They didn’t know how many times a week - a day - she put herself in danger, just for him...

“I’m sorry,” he said again.  Useless.  “It’s my fault - you didn’t even see it coming, Skulker was aiming for me, and you-“

“Danny.”  She put her hands on his shoulders.  That was what he saw, even though he didn’t feel anything.  That was weird.  In his ghost form, he should have been able to feel her unless she was purposely going intangible.  Unless it was a side effect of her lack of ectoplasm? Come to think of it, he’d never actually met a ghost without ectoplasm, it was all just his parents’ theories -

He shook off the tangential train of thought when Sam started talking again.

“Look.  I’ve always helped you fight ghosts.  I could have died a million times before now.  I - I knew this could happen.”  She looked away.  “I mean, I didn’t expect to actually become a ghost… Whatever.  The point is, I’m still here.  This is the best-case scenario, right?”

The best case scenario was you not dying!  But he didn’t say that.  She was trying to stay calm for him; the least he could do was the same.

“I… yeah.  Yeah,” he said weakly, though he didn’t believe it.  There had to be a way to fix this.  There had to. If he could hold a ghost and a living form together inside him, then why couldn’t she?  Maybe if he just took her body back to the lab, had her help him patch her up -

“You’re getting an idea,” Sam said, her voice dubious.

“Yeah,” he admitted, the gears in his head still turning.  The lab. There had to be something there that could -

That’s it!

“Come on,” he said with a hopeful grin, more meant for her benefit than his.  “This idea’s better, I promise.”

Maybe, just maybe, everything could be fine after all.

XXX

They phased through the ceiling of the lab.  Sam didn’t even have to try; her form still ignored any kind of resistance.  She did shiver when she passed through solid matter, though, and her ponytail flickered fitfully.

“Are you going to tell me what your plan is now?”  She asked.

“...Let’s fix up your body first,” he said.  He wasn’t technically stalling - they did need her body in better shape if this was going to work - but she didn’t call him out.  Odd.  Sam wasn’t one to -

“Sam?”  He asked, looking up from where he was gathering the medical equipment.  She was hovering over by the ghost portal, head tilted back, eyes closed.  Almost as if she was… basking in it.  

“I could use your help over here,” he called when she didn’t respond.  “You know how to treat ectoblast burns, right?”

“Yeah,” she said, her voice drawn out oddly.  “Yeah.  Right.  Don’t you?”

He did, but he didn’t like the way she was acting around the portal.  Something was just… off.  It was probably normal for a full ghost, but still.

“Could you just come make sure I don’t screw up?”

She reluctantly hovered over to him.  As it turned out, it was a good thing he’d asked; he nearly used the ointment for regular burns rather than ectoblast burns.  It was hard to distinguish when every product started with “Fenton.”

“Not that it matters,” Sam said.  “No heartbeat, no brain activity, no healing.”

Danny’s mouth drew to a thin line.

“We’ll see.”

He left her hovering over her body and floated towards the storage closet.  What he needed would still be there; his parents never discarded an invention, no matter how apparently useless.  Or dangerous.

Sam didn’t question him as he dug through the closet and heaved out the device he needed.  He’d expected some kind of reaction - positive or negative, he wasn’t sure.  But he quickly saw why.

She was floating by the portal again, her hand nearly reaching out to touch it.

“Sam!”  He shouted, startling her back.  “What are you doing?”

“I don’t-“ she shook her head, then glared. “Why?  I’m a ghost, it’s not going to - wait, what are you doing?”

He just gave a sheepish grin and heaved the Fenton Ghost catcher upright.

“Oh, no, no.  Danny, are you crazy?”

“I’m not crazy,” he insisted.  “It put my ghost and human halves back together.  Why couldn’t it do the same for you?”

“Because, Danny, I’m dead!”  She shouted back, hands clenching to fists at her sides.  He stared back at her, wincing under her gaze, until she finally looked away.

“Look, I just… Why are we doing this?”

Danny blinked.  It was the last question he’d expected her to ask.

“You said it yourself, Sam.  You… died, and I-“

“And you,” she emphasized.  Her voice was quiet this time, calmer than it had been before.  “You want me back.  You want me to be human again.”

“Well - yeah!  That’s what you wanted too, isn’t it?”  He stared, but she remained silent.  “Do you… do you want me to let you die?”

Surprisingly, she didn’t snap back at that, didn’t tell him he was being ridiculous.  She just turned to look towards the ghost portal, with its swirling green energy.  

“I can feel it, Danny,” Sam whispered.  “I’m not like you.  I’m not even like a normal ghost, not yet.”

She looked down at her hands, the pale, translucent blue that they were.  Reluctantly abandoning the Ghost Catcher (for now), Danny hovered over and sat next to her in midair.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I’m not finished yet.”  She passed her hands through each other, watching as they dissolved to mist when they touched.  “You noticed, right?  I don’t have ectoplasm yet.  I came back too fast.  And I think I know one reason why.”

“...Why?”  He asked nervously.  Her eyes fixated on the portal.

“Ghosts normally form inside the Ghost Zone, don’t they?”

“Well… I don’t know, really, no one’s ever seen-“

“I can feel it,” she repeated, almost as if in a trance.  “I didn’t want to believe it at first, but I felt it as we got closer.  It’s… it’s calling me.”

“Well don’t listen to it!”  Danny snapped, more forcefully than he meant to.  He tried to hold her shoulders, tried not to panic when his hands again misted through.  “Come on, Sam!  You want to live, don’t you?  You have a life, a family, friends, a future!  You were going to apply to college!  You were going to influence people, make a difference-!”

“Plans… plans change, Danny.”  She murmured.  “This isn’t a choice.  You can’t just choose not to die.”

“Maybe you can!”  He couldn’t believe it, couldn’t believe she’d just - just give up, accept being a ghost when there was a chance, a possibility, right there that they could fix this -

“Please,” his voice cracked.  “Try.  Just try.  For… for me.”

It was selfish.  He didn’t care.  If she was thinking straight, she would agree with him.  She’d want to live, here, not trapped in the Ghost Zone, not as a fragment of the wonderful friend she was.

Sam paused, took one more look at the portal, and then nodded.

“Alright.  One more try, but… don’t get your hopes up.”

Danny flipped the switch on the Ghost Catcher, and green light spread across its white webbing.  Its gentle hum masked the frantic throbbing of his heartbeat.

Sam hovered up to the merge side, and her legs briefly flickered into a ghostly tail.  She didn’t seem to notice; she was too busy peering through the Ghost Catcher’s webbing.

“It won’t hurt,” Danny promised, carrying her body up to her.

“I’m not worried about that,” she said.  “This just… doesn’t feel right. Wouldn’t your parents know if they’d invented something that could basically make you immortal?”

Danny hadn’t thought of it that way.  “It’s my parents we’re talking about.  If anyone could accidentally raise the dead, it would be them.”

“...You’ve got a point there.”  Sam tried to sigh, but no real breath came out.  “Alright.  Let’s see if they’ve done the impossible.”

Danny nodded.  “I guess I’ll just… toss you through?”

“Sure.  Just be sure and catch me on the other side.”

He could do that.  He just hoped it was all of her he’d be catching.

He scooped up her body from the lab bench, not caring when ointment smeared from her back onto his suit.  It hadn’t seemed to do much for her, but that was to be expected.  They wouldn’t know if it helped until she passed through the Ghost Catcher.

“Ready?” He asked, and she nodded.

“On three,” Sam said.  “One… two… three.”

Muscles tense with anticipation, he threw Sam’s body through the ghostly webbing.  He couldn’t take the time to see if her ghostly form had made it through too.  Barely breathing, he flew around to the other side just in time for her to collide with his chest.

He floated to the ground, his tail splitting back into legs as he touched down.

“Sam?”  He asked, gently shifting her body in his arms.  “Are you in there?”

Her eyes were still open.  Still glassy, sightless.

And then they blinked.

“...Danny?”

“Sam!”  He pulled her close, nearly crushing her in his hug.

“Whoa there… I need oxygen again, in case you were wondering.”

“Heh.  Sorry.”  He rested her on the ground and rubbed the back of his neck.  “How do you feel?”

She rubbed her back - he skin still looked charred, and her shirt was ruined, but the ointment was glowing now.  Usually when it came to his parents’ inventions, that meant it was working.

“...Fine, actually.”  Her voice sounded like she hardly believed it herself.  She rubbed her hands together, as if expecting them to phase through each other.  “For having just been dead, anyway.  I could still use about a dozen ibuprofen.”

Danny laughed, though he knew she was being serious.  He just couldn’t believe - it had actually worked.  He’d wanted to believe, but here she actually was, alive again, sitting in front of him.

She laughed a little too.  “It’s weird.  I still feel like I should be… nevermind.”  She shook her head.

“What?”  He asked, but she didn’t offer an answer.  She just gazed off towards the ghost portal again.  Probably thinking about how she would’ve been trapped there, eventually, if not for this crazy mixture of technology and luck.  He could imagine it.  He remembered the day of his accident, the paralyzing terror at thinking he’d… well. He wasn’t dead - not all the way - and neither was she.  That was what mattered.

“Let’s just… let’s just get you home.”  Maybe then they could both get some sleep, if his still-pounding heart would let him.  Or maybe he’d wake up and this would all turn out to be a dream after all.

“Yeah.  Sounds good.”  Sam looked towards the ceiling, stretching up and concentrating as if - he had to hold back a laugh.  She wasn’t trying to fly, was she?

“You want some help there?”  Maybe he shouldn’t have teased her after such a traumatic experience, but laughing about it was easier than processing it.

She grumbled something under her breath.

“What was that?”

“Just take me home, you moron.”  Her grin softened the insult. Grinning slightly back, he scooped her up and floated towards the ceiling.

It’s okay.  She’s okay.  Everything’s okay.

Just before he phased them through the ceiling, he noticed one last thing that made him question his calming mantra.

As she cast one last glance towards the portal, her eyes glowed bright blue.

#tw: death #EctoberWeek18 #ectober #tali draws #tali writes #danny phantom #sam manson