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skyloftian-nutcase · 2 years

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I... I see you ask box says writing prompts too? Could I maybe if you feel like writing it ever request a scene of healthcare au Hyrule getting a hug? Or on break? Or having a day off? Whether its because he's sick or something really bad happened or if its just a good day and his friends just love him or whatever is up to you.

(@ludoluck @keestones @paradoxical-hermitcrab @artisticgamer)

Have all the Hyrule fuff and hurt/comfort, sweetheart. <3

The tones dropped, making Hyrule jump out of his skin. He bolted up in bed, flinging the blanket off him when he saw Mo stretching lazily and looking at his watch.

"It's shift change, Roolie," Mo said sleepily. "Not our call anymore."

Hyrule blinked once, twice, and then it sank in. He sighed in relief, falling back to his pillow. Thank goodness.

He had two whole days off now. And he wasn't entirely sure what to do with them, but he would definitely figure something out.

Hopping out of bed and throwing the linens into the laundry bin, he opted for having a nice warm shower and he'd start figuring out what to do from there. As the water ran over him, he remembered that he'd told Legend he'd stop by his place to hang out for a bit. Legend was a night shifter, so he was likely asleep right now, which meant Hyrule could spend the morning hiking on the mountain trails outside of town.

As Hyrule biked away from the station, he giggled, letting the morning breeze wake him up. He felt so alive letting gravity push him down a gigantic hill that he laughed the entire way to the bottom. The smell of his favorite bakery wafted in the air, and he parked his bike outside the shop and strolled in.

"Good morning, Pita," Hyrule greeted with a smile.

Pita turned, her brown eyes brightening. "Oh, hello, Hyrule! We haven't seen you all week, I was getting worried!"

Hyrule rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "I had picked up a few extra shits and this bakery isn't in our first due."

Pita put her hands on her hips with a humph. "Well, it should be, and you shouldn't be working so hard. Now, you want the usual?"

Hyrule nodded eagerly, and then he turned to find a table when he saw a familiar face.

"Four?" he asked, prompting the person in question to look up. It was Four, snuggled warmly in a slightly oversized tie dye hoodie with a book propped open beside some scones and tea.

The ICU nurse smiled warmly. "Hey, Hyrule! What are you doing here?"

"I come here on my days off because they've got the best bread in town," Hyrule answered, walking over to his friend's table. "You?"

Four moved a newspaper from the other side of the table, giving Hyrule space. "I come here every day that I can. It's a nice little morning routine when I have mornings to spare."

Hyrule hesitated. "Oh, I--I don't want to interrupt your morning routine--"

"Roolie, sit down," Four said exasperatedly with a good-natured roll of his eyes. "It's nice to see you not wearing a duty uniform once in a while."

"Yeah," Hyrule laughed a little. "I get that a lot. I guess maybe I should try to take some more time off."

Four watched him almost pleadingly. "Please do."

Moving past that subject, the paramedic asked, "What are you reading?"

Four immediately brightened, and dove into a full narrative of the story, which was about a group of heroes trying to destroy a cursed magical item. Hyrule was so enthralled by the story that he didn't realize how much time passed until his phone started buzzing.

Hyrule! Where the hell are you, you dope don't tell me you picked up another damn shift!

Hyrule read the text on his home page, and without even having to look at the sender he laughed. Legend had apparently woken up early.

Four and Hyrule parted ways, and after about a half hour's bike ride, Hyrule arrived at Legend's apartment. His friend met him outside, stretching and yawning.

"Rav's on the warpath and I didn't want you to get dragged into it," Legend remarked at seeing Hyrule's questioning look.

"About what?"

The travel nurse shrugged. "Probably because I hid his stuff. But that's what he gets for selling mine."

Hyrule laughed and then stopped himself, embarrassed. He wasn't sure Legend found it a laughing matter, but the pair was entertainingly chaotic. It was almost as bad as watching Legend and Warriors go at each other, or Warriors and Twilight.

"So where are we going?" Hyrule asked.

Legend pulled up the map on his phone. "Well, last century when you had a day off, we went to Beedle's to check out his wares... oh wait, I just remembered--I saw this place and thought we should check it out!"

Hyrule walked over to look at where Legend was pointing. "Misery Mire? What's that?"

"It's an escape room!" Legend answered. "I bet they got some great prizes if we can crack it."

Hyrule smiled in excitement. He loved solving puzzles with Legend. "Let's go!"

XXX

Hyrule had known the code was rough. But it hadn't been his first code. It hadn't been the first time a patient had died and he hadn't gotten them back. He'd known it would make him feel a little tired for a day or so and then he'd move on. That's how it worked. He had to move on.

He hadn't expected this one to linger.

He'd thought he was fine. Truly, he did. Until he'd happened to look at an X-ray of some random patient in the emergency department, glancing at it over Warriors' shoulder as he babbled about something to Legend, and then suddenly Hyrule felt the grandmother's ribs breaking under his hands all over again as if he were in his ambulance doing compressions, the grandson sobbing outside his truck.

And then he'd realized that maybe he wasn't okay.

So here he was, sitting at Telma's Bar and sipping some milk and just... existing. He didn't really know how to address the issue. He'd gone over the code multiple times, and he knew that he'd done what he could. He didn't understand why this one in particular hit so hard.

Maybe it was that he had told the grandson he was going to be okay. Maybe it was that he had told the grandson he would take good care of his grandmother.

It wasn't like he hadn't, he couldn't help that she'd died. Her blood pressure was better when he was doing chest compressions on her than when she had been alive! He'd obviously done what he could.

So why is this bothering me so much?!

Sky would say he should go to church and pray about it. That's what Sky did a lot. But Hyrule didn't really know what he was supposed to pray about or say about it. So he just sat here instead.

"Hyrule?"

Hyrule nearly jumped out of his skin, and he turned sharply to see Twilight.

"Hey, buddy, what's wrong?" Twi asked gently, cocking his head to the side. Apparently it was obvious that Hyrule wasn't feeling great.

And something about Twilight's tone of voice just set him off.

Hyrule immediately felt his eyes start to water, his throat tightened, and his entire body trembled. He bit his tongue, hoping the pain would make the reaction recede, but it didn't really help. He couldn't eve choke out any words at this point. Crap.

Twilight watched him a moment longer before approaching and carefully encircling his arms around the medic in a gentle hug. Hyrule melted into it, crying softly into Twi's shirt, gripping it and shaking like a leaf.

He couldn't put what was wrong into words, but he didn't have to. Twilight just held him, rubbing a reassuring hand up and down his back. And somehow that was enough, allowing the young medic to just let himself go.

#I am CRACKING UP that I've abused poor Hyrule so much that someone had to request he get a break XD #poor baby #you ask skye answers #lovely anon #writing prompt #writing #lu in healthcare #lu hyrule #yo there is an actual bakery in minish cap #AND THEIR NAMES ARE ACTUALLY WHEATON AND PITA #I groaned and laughed at the same time #I legit had to pull up a city on the map on my phone and just peruse to see what city folk do XD #I don't get out much in case you hadn't noticed LOL #I was going to write just pure fluff and fun and then I remembered you requested Hyrule get a hug too #and he doesn't strike me as someone who gives or receives hugs willy nilly #so then I had to angst him up a bit #praying DOES help Roolie there's literally no special words for it #I did this exact thing and just bawled for like an hour by myself at church lol #and then told myself that with God's help I'm stronger than the issue that was weighing me down #and then stubbornness kicked in LOL #didn't fix it immediately but the world moved on and I learned to as well #anyway that was probably way too personal but whateeeevs #figured somebody might need to hear it to help themselves somehow #enough rambling now #sometimes a hug is the best support you can offer to someone #and Twi gives some of the best hugs because Twi is awesome #lu four #lu legend #lu twilight #I had the thought that escape rooms are literally Zelda dungeons and now I want to tackle an escape room

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soelitist · 2 years

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Regime Change: Okay [1/6]

Summary: Rand Ridley is officially in charge of Cognito, Inc. None of that danger feels bassive anymore.

Day: 1 | WC: 2.1k | AO3 | Prompt: Adverse Effects

If Brett has learned one thing in his time at Cognito, Inc., it would be that there’s no such thing as an accident anymore. Someone is always scheming and plotting, as much as he would love to think otherwise, and so anything that happens even by chance was carefully planned out. Something like Reagan, practical, uptight, driven Reagan, getting dosed with any sort of drug from inside the company is undoubtedly not an accident. Sure, it looks like one, he thinks. Andre had a chemical spill during his latest experimental drug development for Rand, completely by accident based on his panic at the thought of it getting out anywhere. Accident. His lab and Reagan’s are connected by the ventilation system. Accident. Reagan didn’t smell the vapors because her allergies have been off the charts for days. Accident. It’s just that only so many accidents in a row are excusable, even to him, and this has the potential to be really, really bad for everyone involved.

He gently nudges Reagan into his office chair, which no one complains about despite it being the only chair in the room. She goes easily, much more so than he’s used to when it comes to her, and spins in it a couple of times without any understanding of the gravity of the situation she’s found herself in. Brett stops her only because he doesn’t want to make her dizzy enough to get sick.

“We just have to keep her out of Rand’s sight for the rest of the day,” he says. “It can’t be that hard, right?”

“Except for the cameras, genius.”

Myc punctuates his statement by gesturing to the offending security camera in the corner, red light blinking steadily as if to remind them that it’s watching.

Andre nods and shifts his weight. “Yeah, um, if he wasn’t suspicious before, he definitely is now.”

They all look back to Reagan. Normally, she has some kind of solution for any kind of problem the world throws at them, if not immediately, than within a minute. It’s the whole reason their team, and this company, is so successful. She has nothing to add now besides a vaguely coherent noise and a giggle.

“Right. So, uh, we… take her home?”

“Normally I’d say to the hospital, but who knows what Andre was cooking up. It could make her seriously sick,” Gigi says.

“Wow, I take offense to that, actually.”

“So what were you making?”

“It’s sorta kinda- uh. Well.”

Brett pinches the bridge of his nose. Is this how Reagan feels all the time? "Okay, just- is it dangerous?"

"I don't think so," Andre says, sounding not very convincing at all.

It's simpler to believe him, and Brett is reasonably certain that Reagan would prefer to avoid an unnecessary hospital trip. He leaves Glenn in charge, much to everyone else's chagrin, and nudges Reagan's shoulder lightly.

"Hey, Rea-dog, I think it might be time for us to get going for the day.”

She blinks up at him owlishly with her dark eyes. “Already?”

“Already,” Brett confirms. “Up you go, come on. We can get coffee on the way back, four add-shots, just the way you like it?”

This seems to be enough to convince her, though once Reagan stands up again, Brett has to get a hold on her quickly to prevent her from falling back into the chair, or worse, onto the floor. He tries to just keep one hand on her arm to steady her, not wanting to initiate contact he knows a sober Reagan would not appreciate, but after just a couple of steps, he wraps his arm around her waist to support more of her weight.

He takes them through the side-exit rather than the front, even if there are definitely cameras everywhere, and chirps his car to help him find it in the parking structure. No one else traverses the concrete building while they walk, mostly due to the fact that it’s the middle of the workday, but the privacy is welcome in the face of Reagan bursting into a fit of giggles at a vaguely inappropriate license plate on an old Honda.

“Brett, Brett, look! It’s- it says-”

She breaks off into hysterical laughter before she can finish explaining the joke. Brett gives her a little chuckle of his own to placate her, letting out a soft sigh of relief when he sees his car. He unlocks it and opens the passenger side door for her, more dropping her into the seat than letting her get in herself. When he comes around to his own door, he feels better already. The sooner they’re away from Cognito right now, the better.

With the turn of his key in the ignition, the radio comes on, playing a mindless pop song. If he connects his phone, he could have one of his playlists, but those might be a little intense for Reagan right now; she’s always a little oversensitive to all sorts of sounds and lights and touches, and he can only imagine that’s amplified now with her limited ability to think.

“Seatbelts!” he proclaims, clicking his into place.

Reagan fumbles with her seatbelt briefly, not even getting a solid grip on it, before turning to him. “Your seatbelt is fuckin’ broken, Brett.”

“Okay.”

He leans over her anyways to get ahold of the buckle, bracing his free hand on the door, and tugs it across her body to secure in place. He adjusts it for her, too, making sure that the edge of it doesn’t dig into her neck. She always does that when they ride in the car together.

“Coffee and then home,” he says, almost to himself. “We’re good. We’re fine. We’re not doing anything weird or suspicious right now.”

He flashes his and Reagan’s badges to the camera on their way out of the parking garage. Within minutes, Cognito is just a smudge in the rearview mirror. There’s a Starbucks midway between his place and work, one with a drive-through and everything, so he takes them there for the promised coffee. He gets the same thing every time, and so does Reagan, which makes looking at the menu obsolete when he pulls up to the speaker.

“Thank you for choosing Starbucks, what can I get started for you today?”

“Hi! Um, I’ll take a grande iced skinny vanilla latte, and a venti hot white mocha with almond milk, no whipped cream, and seven shots total, please! Oh, and can I have…” Food is probably a good idea. “Some of those mushroom egg things, and pumpkin bread.”

The speaker crackles out his total and instructs him to pull forward. Reagan is still awake when Brett glances at her, but her eyes are unfocused as she snaps her fingers next to her ears. It’s not the strangest thing he’s seen her do, drugged or not, and she’s not hurting anyone, so he doesn’t say anything about it.

At the window, he hands his card to the barista, who returns it quickly with the addition of two little paper bags. One has the eggs, which he got for Reagan, and one has the pumpkin bread, which is his special treat to himself for not completely freaking out over this entire situation. A moment later, the barista gives him their coffee, which he thanks her for before pulling out of the drive through.

“Why don’t you have some of your coffee, Rea,” he suggests. “It might help you feel a little more yourself?” He gestures to the coffee cup, but when she nearly drops it trying to pick the thing up, he covers it with his own hand and bats hers away. “On second thought, maybe when we get home.”

It’s only fifteen more minutes of driving, but they last an eternity. Reagan keeps it together pretty well, mindlessly tearing chunks off her eggs with the plastic fork and eating them. At least, Brett thinks she’s eating them, because she keeps putting the pieces in her mouth, but she doesn’t seem to be chewing it so much as holding it there for a while before swallowing and then having another piece. The egg bites are soft, from what he remembers of the ham ones he used to get before they were discontinued, so they don’t seem like that much of a choking hazard, and Reagan is still breathing beside him. Maybe he’s blowing this whole issue out of proportion. It’s hard to tell whether or not his emotional reactions are the right magnitude, and none of his business family seem to be good benchmarks to check with.

Finally, he pulls into his driveway, and comes around to Reagan’s side of the car to help her get out. She has her half-eaten bag of egg bites in one hand and the still folded-shut bag with Brett’s food in the other as he unbuckles her seatbelt and pulls her out of the car.

“Think you can walk inside?” he asks.

She swings her feet out of the car and over the pavement. “The floor is lava.”

“Okay.”

So he picks her up, careful to keep a secure but respectful grip around her body as he carries her toward the front door, barely managing to unlock it. Home at last. Brett carries Reagan through the threshold and toward the couch, which welcomes her in its soft embrace when he settles her on the cushions.

“This isn’t home,” she complains. “You said we were goin’ home, dude. Messed up.”

He blinks. “Oh. Yeah, huh, I did say- sorry. I’m sorry, that’s totally my fault. I brought you to my place. But we can still hang out here!”

She grumbles unintelligibly and stuffs more egg into her mouth.

“Great! Great. Um, I’m gonna go get our coffee out of the car, I’ll be right back. Don’t move!”

Brett nearly trips over his own feet in his haste to get their drinks and come back as quickly as possible, but he feels better once he shuts, locks, and deadbolts the front door behind him. Nothing can get to them here. It’ll be safe to let whatever drug got into Reagan run its course.

“Here’s that latte,” he says, extending it out to her. He takes his pumpkin bread in exchange, sitting on the coffee table in front of her. Some of the ice has melted in his drink, and the pumpkin bread isn’t really warm anymore, but he doesn’t mind the inconvenience. It’s better than nothing, he reminds himself, crunching down on one of the seeds from the top of the bread. “How’re you feeling, Reagan?”

She blows a raspberry and sips at her coffee. “This doesn’t taste right.”

“What’s wrong with it?”

“There’s no whipped cream!”

He smiles at her without meaning to. “You don’t like whipped cream.”

“Oh.” She squints at her cup. “Yeah. I forgot. Sometimes I forget to tell them not to put it on there, but even when I remember, they still do it sometimes. It’s so fucked up, dude, you have no idea. Whipped cream is evil.”

“Okay.”

They finish their coffee without further words. Reagan seems to be too intently focused on drinking her coffee and humming something to herself, and Brett is busy just watching her. Part of it is to make sure she’s alright; if she’s in any kind of distress, physical or emotional, he’s determined to make it better. But part of him just likes to look at her sometimes. All the little details of her visage, from the bags under her eyes to the slope of her nose to the indent of her cheek when she bites on it in concentration, are unique to her and filed away under the metaphorical box in his brain labeled “Reagan” with little hearts doodled around her name.

“Hey, Brett?” she drawls, lazily waving her empty cup back and forth.

“Yeah, what’s up?”

She sets the cup on the ground and slouches further into the couch. “No one ever holds me.”

“Okay.”

He joins her on the couch, leaving a few inches of space between them and keeps his arms wide, making room for her to let him hold her without forcing too much contact she may not want. Almost immediately, Reagan leans up against him, burying her face in his shoulder. He tentatively embraces her, more mindful than he’s ever been about keeping the pressure light to avoid any sort of discomfort on her part, only to find the weight of his arms causes Reagan to relax further into him.

“Okay?” he asks softly.

“Okay,” Reagan mumbles, and drifts off to sleep.

#whumptober2022 #no.1 #adverse effects #inside job #inside job netflix #fic #drugs #brett hand #reagan ridley #breagan #emwrite #emwt22 #whumptober

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listieshadows · 26 days

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Well, after years of procrastinating, I've finally started watching The Owl House. I'll be watching it in four episode chunks throughout the month, so right now I don't have terribly much to go on, but I've got some general, preliminary thoughts.

To begin with, I honestly wasn't feeling it too much in episode one? While I was watching it, it felt... I'unno. A bit too quick? I didn't really 100% get this show's vibe until episode three, so thinking back on the first episode it makes more sense, but in the moment... I think I might'a been spoiled by the fact that the last show I watched was Avatar: The Last Airbender, and that opened with, like, a three parter. That's close to 70 minutes to set itself up versus only 23 minutes for The Owl House. And for what was there, thinking back on it, yeah; it's a fine lil' adventure to kick things off.

At the very least, from episode one I vibed very much with its sense of humour. That whole "Yep, she got away" bit in particular clued me right in. Not everything hit with me, but a good majority did—and, besides, who expects to bat a perfect 100, anyway? I saw Alex Hirsch's name in the credits, and I didn't see what he was credited, but I do get a lot of Gravity Falls vibes.

It's also funny that—and for the record, I came into this show knowing pretty much nothing. It's about magic, there's a character called Odalia Blight that an artist I like themed themselves around for a few months... And that Luz and Amity will eventually hook up. And that's the biggest thing I know, so watching their preliminary interactions in episode three are big, "Wow, is that how you treat your future girlfriend?" Seriously, I kinda look forward to learning more about her just so that that's not the only thing I think about when I see her in the opening title sequence.

I got, like, two more preliminary thoughts I wanna share. One, I thought I'd get sick real quick of King's thing of acting like he's a big, scary demon when he's really just a cute lil' thing, but he really hasn't yet. Testament to the writing, design and voice acting for finding the balance where I don't mind, I guess. And speaking of his voice, it sounds really familiar to me, but I can't place my finger on exactly who it is... And I'm feeling a big lazy right now and don't feel like looking up who it is.

Second—and this one is more for me and my friend group than the open Tumblr public, but—I got this OC, Louise, who suffers from what I call "existential depression." Basically, she worries, and she worries hard, that she doesn't truly have a place in the world. She worries she's a side character in someone else's story, and that, ultimately, she's not really important. I feel like she'd get something out of the message in episode two: that no one's going to just come up and tell you you're the chosen one and you're destined to be special; you just have to choose to be it. At the very least, Louise would for sure fall super hard for the "you're the chosen one" scam. She ain't above nuthin'.

So yeah. Scattered thoughts on the first four episodes of The Owl House. Truthfully, I don't feel as sparked as I did when I saw the first few episodes of DuckTales 2017 or Avatar: The Last Airbender, but for sure it still falls into that big category of "I'm really kicking myself for not checking it out sooner." Especially when it's been on my "to watch list" ever since Disney+ first launched. Alongside Amphibia, actually, but let me take things on at a time here. Besides, there's still the rest of the series left, and if the final three episodes are each big enough that all three can get entries on Letterboxd... Well, darn; if I don't expect big things.

#text #rambling #things i'm watching #the owl house #normally i would've just said all this to my friends #but i didn't feel like filling up a whole Discord channel with all this

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orangeoctopi7 · 3 years

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Buzzfeed Unsolved: The Suspicious Crash of Stanley Pines

The theme for @stanuary week 3 is Crime... what about... TRUE CRIME? I started watching Buzzfeed Unsolved this last summer, so I’ve been wanting to do something like this.

If you don’t watch Buzzfeed Unsolved, this is probably gonna seem like a lot of rambling.

On the morning of July Fourth, 1982 in the sleepy logging town of Gravity Falls, Oregon, there was a firey explosion that wasn't part of the fireworks and festivities. A car had gone over the edge of the town's famed floating cliffs.

"Floating cliffs?" Shane asked

"They're like, giant overhangs. They're not just floating up in the middle of the air like Pandora or something." Ryan explained, showing Shane a photo on his phone.

"Oh, that's pretty."

"It is really pretty."

"What a beautiful place for a car to careen over a cliff."

Ryan cracked up.

"You get a lovely view as you plummet to your death." Shane imagined.

Between 6:15 and 6:20 PM, the Gravity Falls Police Department received six separate calls reporting seeing a yellow car in flames drive off the edge of the cliff and crash to the valley below.

When investigators arrived on the scene, they found the remains of a crushed and burnt 1971 Subaru DL Coupe. The police report notes finding that the brakes were cut, and evidence of gasoline being poured into the driver’s seat to start the fire. Strangest of all, no body was found in or around the crash, only a few burnt strands of hair.

“So, right off the bat, real suspicious.” Shane commented.

“Yeah, and it only gets more suspicious from here.” Ryan assured his co-host.

“And I’m assuming there’s no chance that they guy, y’know, got up and walked away from the crash?”

“Oh, no, no way. You saw the picture of the cliffs.”

“Oh yeah, no way.”

“There’s no way anyone in the car would have survived that fall.”

“And it was on fire.”

Despite the lack of a body, the police determined from the few burnt strands of hair and an anonymous tip they received at 6:15 PM on the day of the crash, the driver of the car was one Stanley Pines, a 31 year old man from Glass Shard Beach, New Jersey. Allegedly, he had been coming to Gravity Falls, Oregon to visit his twin brother, Stanford, who lived just a ten minute drive from the cliff Stan’s car had driven off.

“Wait, wait, wait--” Shane interrupted Ryan’s explanation, “Twin brothers. Named Stanley and Stanford.”

“Yeah.”

“Who the f___ names their kids like that?”

“I know, right?”

“Were they identical twins?”

“Uh, I couldn’t find anything saying they were definitely genetically identical, but, uh, with the way this case goes, it’s safe to assume they were identical enough.”

“Yikes, I feel sorry for them growing up, can you imagine how often people got them mixed up?”

“Yeah, but imagine the kinds of shenanigans they must have gotten up to!”

“Oh, that’s true. There would have been plenty of shenanigans. Lots and lots of shenanigans.”

“If you had twins, would you give them cutesy twin names?” Ryan asked.

“No.” Shane answered firmly.

“I think I’d just do like, alliterative names. Nothing too similar.”

“Yeah, no I think twins probably have to deal with enough confusion bull___ without having to throw similar names or the same initials into the mix.”

“Interestingly enough…” Ryan started.

“Yeah, I’m guessing from your comments that the twin thing plays into this.”

When interviewed by the police, Stanford claimed his brother never arrived at his house. However, testimonies of other townsfolk reported seeing a red 1967 El Diablo with a distinctive “STNLYMBL” vanity license plate driving up the road to Stanford’s house earlier that winter. The house is out in the woods, isolated from the rest of the town, so no one would drive up that way unless they were going to see the cabin.

“Well what if they just wanted to take a walk out in the woods?” Shane countered.

“It was in early February.”

“Snowshoeing.”

“In a blizzard.”

“Ok, you do not have a weather report for the exact day they saw this car!”

“Two of the testimonies mention there was a snow storm that day. Plus, the license plate says STANLEY MOBILE.”

“Well, Stanley is a fairly common name.”

“You-you’re just being contrary to bug me now, aren’t you?” Ryan accused.

Shane just grinned.

What’s more, that same red El Diablo was the car Stanford now drove.

“What!?” Shane laughed with disbelief for a moment before putting on a mocking tone. “Uh, yeah, he never showed up, but, uh, I have his car. I’m still driving it. Y’know, seemed like a waste to just let it sit in the driveway.”

“He didn’t even change the license plate.” Ryan added.

“Oh, of course not!” Shane said sarcastically. “Why go through all that trouble?”

Upon further inspection, the car that crashed was registered to Stanford, and had been reported totaled almost seven years prior.

“It’s interesting that they say it was totaled.” Ryan commented. “Because totalled just means that the damage is more expensive to fix than the car is worth, so it could have still been drivable.”

“And if you’re trying to fake a car crash, what better to use than an already worthless car?” Shane agreed.

“Exactly.”

Stanley Pines was declared dead by auto accident and the case was closed in September of 1982, due to lack of evidence and quote: “A lack of interest from the involved parties”.

“A lack of interest from the involved parties!? What the h___ does that even mean?” Shane asked in bewilderment.

“It’s odd, to be sure.”

It’s when we look into the background of the presumed dead Stanley, and his brother Stanford, that this case becomes truly bizarre.

Stanley Pines left home at the age of 17, and had brief but unsuccessful careers as an amature prize fighter and as a salesman, before he turned to a life of crime. Prior to his reported death, he had been in prison five times, in three different countries, and had lived under at least eight different assumed names, with several others that were never confirmed. He had known ties to the mob and drug cartels.

“Quite the shady character. That might explain why the police didn’t look too closely into his ‘death’.” Shane put air quotes around “death”.

“Well, does it? I mean, if they thought his death might have been related to the mob…” Ryan argued.

“They know better than to mess with the mob, even in Oregon.”

“I mean, we have seen in several past True Crime episodes, what can happen if you mess with the mob.”

“Oh yeah.”

“You don’t wanna do it.”

“Nope.”

His brother Stanford was no less strange. He was born with fully-functional polydactyly, meaning he had six fingers on each hand. It’s worth noting that after 1982, Stanford no longer had 6 fingers. He claims that he had them surgically removed, because, quote: “I was sick of people staring.”

“Uh-huh. Sure.” Shane said doubtfully.

“You don’t believe that explanation?”

“Let’s just say I find it highly suspect.”

Stanford was also a certified genius, graduating with the most PhDs Backupsmore University had ever awarded. As a graduate student, he worked as a researcher and inventor for the US Government. Some sources say he worked on top-secret experiments.

In 1975, he received a $100,000 research grant, which he used to move to Gravity Falls and become a Paranormal Researcher. When he arrived in Gravity Falls, he was the subject of many rumors throughout the town, due to his reclusive nature and strange area of study.

“Oh, so this guy was basically you.” Shane pointed out.

“He’s basically me if I didn’t have you.” Ryan agreed.

“Awww, that’s sweet!” Shane placed a hand over his heart.

Many residents reported seeing strange lights coming from Stanford’s home in the woods starting almost as soon as he moved in, as well as strange sounds.

“Well, it seems like Gravity Falls is a pretty small town. People gossip.” Shane reasoned.

“Ok, yeah, but people gossip about who’s cheating on who, or what business secretly sells drugs out the back. They don’t gossip about strange lights coming out of the new neighbor’s basement.”

“They could. It’s gossip. Gossip can be about anything.”

Reports of the lights stopped in late January of 1982. Just four months later, in March, Stanford began opening up his home for tours, and in a matter of weeks, transformed his home into a tourist stop called the “Murder Hut.”

“Oh my g__.” Shane stifled a laugh. “A little on the nose there, don’t you think?”

“He did rename it to the Mystery Shack about a year later.”

“Hmm, yeah I wonder why?” Shane asked facetiously.

Stanford also exhibited paranoid behavior on several occasions before the crash, especially in the early months of 1982.

One local reported seeing Stanford screaming “No it isn’t, you creeps! I can see you just fine!” down an alleyway. Several other eyewitnesses reported seeing him fall out of his seat at the Triple Digits Truck Stop Diner on Route 14 and scream for something to “get out of his mind” before fleeing the building.

“So, he definitely seemed to think something was out to get him.” Ryan commented.

“Not the words of a sane man.”

“Unless something really was out to get him.”

“Eeeeh, even then…” Shane wiggled his hand in a so-so motion.

Dan Corduroy, one of the few people who had regular contact with Stanford before he opened the Mystery Shack, had this to say about the sudden change from research lab to tourist trap:

“Oh, he’s definitely been acting differently. He was really shy before, hard to talk to even. He seemed uncomfortable spending a lot of time with people. I’d invite him over to one of my family’s cabins to visit, but he only ever wanted to visit the haunted one while we were all out of town. I’d say it was a good change, though. It wasn’t good for him to be alone all the time like that. I’m glad he’s finally spending time with other people.”

“He only wanted to visit our haunted cabin.” Shane repeated with disbelief. “Hey, do you wanna come over to visit one of our cabins?” He put on a voice. “Uh, that depends, what kind of cabins have you got?’ ‘Well there’s one by the lake, one with a nice view of the valley, and one that’s haunted.’ ‘Oh, I’ll take the haunted one!”

“What gets me is he only wanted to visit the haunted cabin while everyone else was out of town. We’ve stayed in our fair share of haunted places, and it was bad enough staying overnight, just me and you, but there is nothing that could convince me to spend the night in one of those places all by myself.”

“I mean, I’m pretty sure none of the places we’ve been to have actually been haunted, but I see what you mean. It’s not fun to go to a haunted house by yourself. It’s kinda boring.”

“Um, we’re not gonna get into this discussion now, because we still haven’t even gotten to the theories yet, but you’re wrong.”

The case came to light again in August of 2012, when Federal agents arrested Stanford Pines, and detained him for several hours for questioning. By the next day, he had been released, and officials stated that his arrest had been due to a false lead. What exactly that false lead was, however, was never stated.

Now that we’ve gone over the extensive background of this case, let’s get into the theories of what really happened that 4th of July in 1982.

Theory #1: The theory put forth by the police, that Stanley Pines died in a fiery car accident.

“So then how do they explain what happened to the body?” Shane asked.

“It doesn’t say.” Ryan.

“And why were the breaks cut?”

“No explanation given.”

“That’s a stupid theory, those cops ought to be fired.”

Ryan stifled a laugh. “You’re not wrong.”

Theory #2: That Stanley killed his brother, made it look like his own death, and took over his brother’s life. This would explain the loss of his extra fingers, the sudden change in behavior that led him to open up the Mystery Shack, and his sudden acquisition of Stanley’s car. It does not, however, explain the lack of a body in the crash.

“He could have disposed of his brother’s body somewhere else, and then just like, left an ice block on the gas pedal and let the car run itself off the cliff.” Shane theorized.

“That’s possible. I was also thinking, maybe the body was gone. Maybe Stanley didn’t necessarily kill Stanford, maybe they met up in the woods, Stanford got eaten by a bear, and Stanley, who was already in trouble with the mob, took advantage of the situation, and faked his own death.”

“How--why did you work your fear of bears into this?”

“That’s just my variation on this theory.”

“Then why all the secrecy? Why not say that he was the one who got eaten by the bear? Why fake the car crash and then say his brother never showed up?”

“Because if the mob knew he’d talked to his brother before he died, maybe they’d come question him?”

“Oh, yeah, that’s a possibility.”

Theory #3: That Stanford killed Stanley and made it look like an accident. People who support this theory say the psychological trauma and guilt of killing his own brother may have driven Stanford to change his appearance and behavior to more closely resemble that of his dead brother.

“That’s… kind of a stretch.” Shane said slowly. “I feel like, Occam's Razor, theory 2 is more plausible.”

“What makes you say that one’s more plausible?”

“I dunno, just saying ‘He killed his brother and took his place’ seems a lot more likely than ‘The other brother killed him and the guilt drove him to act like his brother. I don’t think that’s how psychology works.”

Theory #4: Both brothers are still alive. Stanley, on the run from the mob, came to his brother Stanford for help. Meanwhile, Stanford was worried about someone or something that was out to get him. They came to a solution that would solve both their problems: switching places. They would fake Stanley’s death, throwing the mob off of Stanley’s trail. Then, Stanley would take Stanford’s place in the public eye, while Stanford went into hiding.

This theory is supported by photos that surfaced on Facebook in 2012. Several photos of Gravity Falls after a series of earthquakes did extensive damage to the town show what is supposed to be Stanford. However, another man that looks just like him is seen standing in the background. Interestingly enough, both mens’ hands are obscured in all of these photos.

While the photos haven’t been analysed by any professionals to definitively determine if either of the men are Stanley Pines, it has been determined that the photos are not edited.

“Would the whole photo recognition software even work on identical twins?” Ryan wondered.

“I don’t think so?” Shane answered unsurely. “I mean, my Facebook facial recognition auto-tag doesn’t even recognize my mom half the time, so I wouldn’t be surprised if twins throw it off.”

“Just looking at some of these photos yourself, what do you think?” Ryan handed a few print-outs from his folder to Shane.

“Oh wow, yeah, they do look alike.” Shane nodded. “Alright, yeah, I’m convinced. We solved it, guys! Video over!”

“We actually do have one more theory.” Ryan informed him.

Theory #5: Stanford was abducted by aliens.

“Oh for f___’s sake--” Shane threw his hands up in frustration. “We have four perfectly good, plausible explanations, and you have to throw that in!”

“This one actually does have some evidence behind it.”

“Bull____, but go on.”

Stanford was a professional paranormal researcher. Although he was very secretive about his research, even to his grant committee, some of his research notes do list looking for proof of ancient aliens visiting the valley before European contact. Could it be the thing he was afraid of was aliens?

“... That’s it?” Shane asked. “When you said this one actually had some evidence behind it, I thought you meant there was a UFO sighting in the same area around the same time.”

“The negative space between the floating cliffs kinda looks like a UFO” Ryan pointed out.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean a random researcher in the 80’s was abducted by aliens! That’s like, if I found a ransom note for you in the office, but I said ‘Well, Ryan was afraid of bears. Bears used to live in California, there’s one on the state flag outside our building. He must have been eaten by a bear.’ That’s the kind of leap in logic we’re talking about!”

Was this a case of fratricide? Or is this the longest and most elaborate twin switch of all time? For now, this case remains… UNSOLVED.

* * *

“It was really hard for me to stay on topic while I was researching this one.” Ryan admitted as they wrapped things up. “There is a lot of weird stuff related to Gravity Falls, we should go there for an episode one of these days.”

“I’d love to do that, it looks like a beautiful place to visit.” Shane agreed. “Are you sure you wanna do that though? It seems like the place is crawling with haunted cabins and bears.”

“Well, one could argue this entire series is about me conquering my fears, so… Why not?”

#Gravity Falls #Fanfiction #Buzzfeed Unsolved #Stanuary 2021 #Stanley pines #My Writing

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awindylife-writes · 3 years

Text

Voyage of the Damned Part 2

Relationships: the Doctor x reader, Astrid x reader (platonic), Astrid x Doctor (platonic)

Summary: Voyage of the Damned rewrite. The Doctor and you find yourselves on the Titanic, space edition. You meet Astrid and get ready for a wonderful day, but then a meteor shower hits the ship and it starts falling towards Earth.

Author's notes: There was a number of things l didn't like about this Christmas special so again, l rewrote it.

Warnings: a ship crashes, multiple mentions of dearth bc a lot of people die

"Oi, Steward! I'm telling you, the shields are down!" a new man yelled.

"LISTEN TO HIM! LISTEN TO HIM!" the Doctor desparately screamed in the Steward's face. The two crewmen let him go and you didn't know it, but it was too late.

A moment later the ship started rocking like it was being torn apart, because it was. You lost your footing and fell back as everything turned sideways.

"Y/N!!!!" you heard the Doctor's terrified scream through the noise of the ship's destruction and the cries of other passengers. You couldn't even get a good look at where he was before something in the walls exploded and you threw yourself away.

You found Astrid near you and thank god for that. "I've got you!" you yelled over the noise and gripped her tight as you tried to shield her from the hell around you.

Then there were arms around you too, holding you up and protecting you. You knew those arms.

The Doctor had found you and the three of you clung to each other in that madness. You could feel each shudder of the ship like a wave of an earthquake. You tried to keep yourself steady and upright but you were the snow in a snowglobe someone was shaking. Balance was a mith and everything was being ripped apart. Various pieces of equipment were falling on all sides, there was fire burning all around you; you could feel its heat on your skin and you breathed its smoke. You felt sick from being thrown around but you were too terrified to hurl.

You couldn't close your eyes even though you wanted to. Everything in you was screaming to watch out for danger, but there was so much of it around you you didn't know where to look. You stared at disaster over Astrid's shoulder and the Doctor's arm. Shadow and light mixed into a disorienting mess and the shades the fire threw joined the dance. You coudn't distinguish what was near and what was far but you still looked.

The only thing you could do was clutch Astrid and the Doctor with all the strength you possessed and wish they wouldn't be harmed.

Finally you were thrown to the side in one last bang and then it stopped. You were lying on the floor and partly on the Doctor. He was on his back, still holding you and Astrid.

After a breath he let go, then stood up and swiftly looked around. You sat up, thankful you were still in one piece. You let go of Astrid enough to check her over and relief washed over you when you found out she was unharmed. You were about to yell if everyone was okay but the Doctor sushed you. After a moment of absolute silence he quetly declared, "It's stopping."

He then looked down at you in worry and offered you a hand. "You alright?"

As you quietly nodded, he looked over at your friend. "Astrid?"

She nodded too and took the hand he'd offered her. He pulled both of you to your feet.

"Bad name for a ship," he told you, scowling. "Either that, or this suit is really unlucky."

"We'll get you a new one and then we'll test that theory," you smiled weakly at him.

He looked at you, grateful, and then you heard Astrid suck in a breath.

The three of you looked down at the unlucky officer who was on the ground close to you. The Doctor kneeled to check him over. You saw him shake his head at the Steward and your stomack turned to stone.

The Steward was dead now too. You looked out the door with the Doctor, at the wreckage and the distant Earth. Still beautiful, you thought to yourself. You were a bit dazed, nothing felt real and everything was too real at the same time.

You knew you never wanted to feel so powerless again, but you also knew that drive was in you still. You would help where you could.

You gathered yourself and asked, "What happened?"

"How come the shields were down?" Astrid demanded a second later. You jumped, you hadn't noticed her there. She smiled gently at you, blue eyes kind, and caressed your shoulder. You managed a small, grateful smile in return.

"I don't think it was an accident," the Doctor growled. You figured that.

"How many dead?" Astrid and you asked in one voice, both looking at the Steward's body out in space. She was indignant though, while you were simply sad.

"We're alive," the Doctor answered her and then looked at you. "Focus on that," he told you gently. He knew what people being hurt did to you.

"I'll get you out of here," his voice was soft but firm. Then he turned to Astrid and you followed his eyes. She was trembling, still looking out at the result of the hell you all had endured. You took her hand into yours and squeezed it.

"I will get you both out of here," the Doctor assured her. "Astrid, l promise. Look at me." He held her shoulders and when she found his eyes, he assured her again, "I promise."

You were glad, because when the Doctor promised something, it happened. You needed her to live. Even if she'd want nothing to do with you after this, you needed her to live. Even if she had been anyone else, you would have done your damnest to ensure she survived, but Astrid was extraordinary. To think about the universe without her?

No. No.

After she nodded shakily, he concluded, "Good," and turned around. He went on about reception but you tuned him out. Instead, you looked Astrid in the eye and then pulled her closer. She gratefully accepted the hug.

"You heard what the Doctor said and l'll say it too. I promise we'll get you out of here." You squeezed her shoulder in emphasis.

She breathed deeply and slowly let go. Then she smiled and her bright eyes crincled. "Thank you," she told you gratefully. You nodded and swung your still joined hands.

"You know, l met you about two hours ago, but now l think l've known you for years," she said in wonder.

"Yeah?" you asked her and she nodded, still smiling. "I feel that way too," you told her, giddy in this moment. You both grinned at each other.

"Oh," the Doctor's sad voice cut through.

You whirled around. "What is it what's wrong?"

"That's the TARDIS over there," he told you and you desparately searched for the blue box with your eyes. He was right, it was spinning in zero gravity, so close but still out of your reach.

"What is that?" Astrid asked in confusion.

"It's our ship," you told her, throat tight. "It's our home."

"And it's programmed to lock onto the nearest centre of gravity, and that would be the Earth."

You took care of the other passengers with Astrid as the Doctor talked to the bridge. You overheard enough to know the picture.

"Are we going to die?" Foon asked and everything started going downhill.

The Doctor sushed the frightened passengers. "First things first," he began in a determined voice. "One, we're gonna climb through this ship. B, no, two, we're gonna reach the bridge. Three, or c, we're gonna save the Titanic. And, coming in a very low four, or d, or that little iv in brackets they use in footnotes, follow me."

Good, that was good, you thought to yourself. Always good to establish a goal.

"Hang on a minute." The fricking billionare decided to show he's an ass. "Who put you in charge?" he demanded. "And who the hell are you anyway."

"I'm the Doctor. I'm a Time Lord." Sparks flew behind him and he was suddenly bigger than everyone in the hall.

"I'm from the planet Gallifrey in the constellation of Casterbourus." You were grinning like mad. You could almost hear magestic music playing.

"I'm nine hundred and three years old, and l'm the man who's gonna save your lives and all six billion people on the planet below. And she's gonna help," he interjected, looking at you. "Have you got a problem with that?" he asked the billionare.

"No," the man admitted, baffled.

The Doctor turned to you. "In that case..."

"Allons-y," you said for him with a smile and started walking. You turned back, grinning at the group as the Doctor fell into step with you. You found Astrid with your eyes and nodded your head for her to join you.

"This whole thing could come crashing down any minute!" the billionare whined as he helped you clear the staircase of debris.

"Oh, Brixton, did you get that message?" you asked him sweetly.

He frowned in confusion. "No, what message?"

"Shut up," you told him, not covering up your annoyance.

Then you heard from above, "Bannacafalata, made it!"

You climbed up behind Astrid. You weren't about to leave her alone on this bloody ship.

Foon's screams echoed in the chasm. Death, death, all around you death, whywhywhywhy WHY?!?!

"Alright, when it's ready, that blue light comes on there," the Doctor pointed at the spot on the battery Bannacafalata had given you. Another person you hadn't been able to save.

Astrid frowned. "You're talking as if you two aren't coming with us."

"There's something down on deck thirty-one," you told her, "and we're gonna find out what it is."

"But what if you meet a Host?" She was worried about you and the thought melted your heart.

"Well, then we'll just..." The Doctor wiggled his eyebrows at you, smiling, "have some fun."

"Sounds like you two do this kinda thing all the time," Astrid added nonchalantly.

"Not by choice," you assured her, voice soft.

"Yeah, all we do is travel," the Doctor pitched in.

"Imagine it," you told her, suddenly wishing with all your heart you were out there, with her in the stars. "No stakes, no bills, no boss. Just the open sky." The wonder you felt when you thought about all you've seen seeped into your voice. There was all that space out there, so much room to wonder, so many skies to see.

"I'm sort of, uh, unemployed? Um, now," she answered as you looked at her expectantly. "I was thinking that blue box is, kinda small," she raised her eyebrows, "but l could... squeeze in? Like a stowaway!" Her eyes were so full of hope and your heart was bursting.

"It's not always safe," the Doctor's voice cut through the feeling. And you remembered. You remembered Foon and Morvin and Bannacafalata. How could you have forgotten???

"So you two need someone to take care of you," she protested. "I've got no one back on Stoe, no family. Just... me." She looked at you, blue eyes pleading. "So what do you think? Can l come with you?"

The Doctor smiled and looked at you. You were already grinning and nodding at Astrid, so incredibly happy. It was decided. "Yeah, we'd like that," the Doctor answered while you nodded on enthusiastically.

Her lips stretched into a wide grin and you pulled her close. You hugged her tightly, with a bright future ahead of you.

And then all three of you fell to the ground as the room shook.

"All charged up!" the Doctor yelled as the blue light came on. You all hurried back to the two waiting men. "Mister Copper, look after her; Astrid, look after him." He pointed at them. "Brixton, um..." he trailed off at a loss for words. "Look after yourself," he finally finished.

"We'll see you again," you reassured Astrid. "I promise." You steadily held her gaze so she knew you meant it.

And then you were off, running to the door on the other side of the hall.

"Hold on!" she called after you. "There's an old tradition on Stoe!"

"We've really got to go," the Doctor told her and you swatted his arm.

"Just wait a minute!" she yelled as she ran up to you.

She stopped in front of you, cradled your face and deftly kissed your cheek. "You'll get the other when you come back," she told you, smiling, then turned to the Doctor and did the same.

"See you later!" she called after you when you turned to leave.

"Not if l see you first!" you told her over your shoulder, a huge grin splitting your face.

"What she said," the Doctor joined in.

After seeing Astrid smile in turn, you were gone.

#doctor who #doctorwho #doctor who x reader #doctorwho x reader #the doctor x reader #tenth doctor x reader #10th doctor x reader #the doctor #10th doctor #tenth doctor #doctor who fanfiction #doctorwho fanfiction #reader insert #astrid #astrid pith

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hangovercurse · 3 years

Text

Thesis

After a bad day, Colson comes over to take care of you, only to find out about a secret you’ve been keeping from him.

Request: “I was wondering if you could do a Kells fic where he's dating the reader and finds out she is c*tting, and helps her. Its total ok if you aren't comfortable writing this though 🖤”

Colson X Reader

Warnings: discussion and depictions of self-harm, cursing, angst

A/N: Gonna get really serious with this one: If you are struggling with self-harm (in all forms, not just those discussed in this text) or issues with your mental health, please reach out to someone! Family, friends, anyone. I know it’s hard and you may feel like no one cares, but I promise someone does. If you don’t feel comfortable telling someone you know, message me. My page is a safe space and I will never judge you. I promise you, the world is a much better place with you in it and you deserve to take up space, you deserve to be happy.

On that note, do not read this if you feel it may be triggering to you, please.

Word Count: 2457

You sighed as you read the email subject Re: Y/L/N Final Thesis Revised 2. Every time your doctoral advisor sent you an email in response to any work on your thesis, it wasn’t good.

Ms. Y/L/N,

I regret to inform you that the corrections that you have made are still not adequate enough for submission to the board. Please read my notes attached for further work to be done.

You didn’t even bother reading the rest of the email, instead choosing to slam your head down against your wooden desk. “Fuck!” You yelled to your empty house.

You had rewritten your doctoral thesis 4 times already and submitted for approval twice, both of which were rejected. Your advisor was trying to be patient with you, but you could tell his tolerance was running low. “What am I doing wrong?” You whispered to yourself, closing your eyes as you let your head rest against the wood.

Maybe you’re just not smart enough. That unhelpful voice in your mind chimed in, making you groan. Seriously though, if you were smarter, then you would have been approved already.

Your chest started tightening and you felt nauseous, tears coming to your eyes. You reached around for your phone, hearing Colson’s voice in your mind. “If you have a bad day, text me. You can always talk to me.”

Hey

You texted him, hoping he would respond soon. Your breathing was getting heavier and you just wanted to talk to someone that wasn’t the voice in your head.

Hey, I’m in the studio rn, everything ok?

My thesis got rejected

Again :(

I’m sorry babe

Wanna see you

Colson didn’t answer for a few moments, and you had a feeling he was letting out a frustrated sigh. You hated bothering him at work, it always made you feel like a nuisance to him.

I can’t leave right now

You’ll be okay

It’s just a paper

Now it was your turn to let out a sigh. Colson didn’t exactly understand why this was so important to you. Every time you got upset after it didn’t turn out well, he told you the same thing, “It’s just a paper, you can just rewrite it.”

But it’s not just a paper. It’s currently the only thing standing between you and a doctorate degree. And you’ve rewritten it four times before.

He’s just sick of you whining about it.

You annoy him

He doesn’t care about you

You got up from your desk and made your way to the bathroom, not sure if you were going to throw up or do something worse. The voice kept speaking, her incessant words running through your head.

You know what’ll make you feel better.

And you did. You had been trying to stop, and you were doing pretty good until a few weeks ago. Up until that point it was rare, a few times a month. Now it was 4 times a week; more days than not.

You reached under your bathroom counter, pulling out the small, inconspicuous makeup bag. You brought it over and set it on the edge of the bathtub, sitting on the floor next to it.

The zipper felt familiar under your fingers as you pulled it, the metal coming into view. Your secret stash of hellish paradise.

You pulled one of the razers out, feeling the coolness on your skin. Pulling up the sleeve of your sweater, you placed the sharp edge against the fragile skin on your wrist. You took a deep breath as you slid it across the skin, not even wincing at the pain. The blood rolling out of the wound was beautiful to you, a therapy in itself. You laid the arm over the bathtub, taking another slice at your wrist.

You had to be careful not to go too close to the hand or else the sweaters you wore could ride up and expose you, and you couldn’t make too many cuts or someone would be bound to notice.

Once you had made 4 slits in your skin, you stopped. The razor fell to the edge of the bathtub as you watched the blood drip down your arm, gravity pulling it towards your hand to pool in your palm. As fucked up as it was, you liked the view. The pain barely registered to you anymore.

It felt like all the fears were draining from your body with the blood. You knew it would all come back eventually, but in this moment, you felt peace. Your stomach stopped turning and your chest loosened. And for just a little while, the voices in your head were gone.

You laid there for probably 30 minutes, the peaceful silence engulfing you. Eventually you came back to your senses, realizing the mess you had made. You sighed, standing up and turning the faucet on. You watched the blood that sat in the tub wash away before running your arm under the water. It stung a bit, but the blood disappeared from your arm, leaving you with the visual of 4 dark red cuts.

Once the tub was clean, you moved to the cabinets under the sink again, this time grabbing a package of band-aids and covering the marks that were bleeding slightly after the water pressure opened them up again. You ran the blade under water from the sink to clean it before throwing it back in the bag and hiding it. Satisfied that all evidence of your sins was gone, you pulled down the sleeves of your sweater and made your way to your couch to watch a true crime documentary.

A little over a half hour later Colson texted you.

Picking up your favorite food :)

Be over in 10

You smiled at your phone for a second before guilt crept into your mind. How could you think that he doesn’t care about you? He’s never done anything but love you.

You are the world’s worst girlfriend.

You bit your lip, trying to make the thoughts go away. You didn’t want to be upset when Colson got there, it would spoil his whole night.

It didn’t quite work, but you were able to put on a fake smile when he got to your door. He set the bags of food on your coffee table before flopping on top of you on the couch. His face buried into your neck, pressing soft kisses onto the skin all over. He did this whenever he knew you were sad, it made you laugh.

He sat up, looking down on you, “how’s my girl doing?” He whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

“Better now that you’re here.” You mumbled, throwing your clothed arms around his middle and pulling him back against you. He chuckled and flipped you around so his back was against the couch and you were resting on his chest.

You smiled at him, you don’t deserve him, the voice screamed. You ignored it, burying your head into his shirt, the smell of him filling your nose. “What’re we watching?”

Your voice was muffled by the fabric, “The Vanishing of Elisa Lam.”

He looked up, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head, “of course we are.”

“We can watch something else.” You mumbled. Colson chuckled and sat up, pulling you with him to rest in his lap, your back against his chest.

His long arm reached to grab the food off the table, setting one box in your hands. “Your weird true crime show is fine, babe. You choose tonight.” He kissed your cheek, making you smile and sink further into his chest.

A little while passed and you had both finished your food, placing the empty boxes on the table. Colson’s arms were around your waist and you moved to hold his hands. You had tried wrapped your palm over the back of his hand, but he flipped his hand so his palm encased yours. As the documentary played, he began to rub circles into your skin subconsciously, moving down your wrist slowly.

In his arms you momentarily forgot about your session in the bathroom from earlier, but when his thumb brushed against the bandage on your arm you were shocked back into reality. “What’s that?” He mumbled, chin resting on your shoulder and looking down to the shirt sleeve.

“Nothing, I cut myself doing dishes earlier.” You lied, it being second nature at this point.

Colson’s hand moved to the edge of your sleeve, moving to roll it up. “You’re so clumsy sometimes.”

You yanked your arm out of his hand as you felt the fabric moving up, “what are you doing?” You asked, holding your arm closer to yourself subconsciously.

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “I was gonna kiss it better.” He mumbled.

“It’s fine, you don’t need to.” You sighed, turning your attention back to the TV. He didn’t like that answer and based off of your reaction, he could tell something was up.

He reached to hold your arm again, and you relaxed into his touch, thinking he would just hold your hand. Instead, he dragged your sleeve up your arm, exposing four band-aids on your wrist and older, exposed scars.

“Colson!” You yelled, standing up and wiggling out of his grasp.

He had a shocked expression on his face that slowly turned into a mixture of concern and hurt. He tried to form words but was struggling. Finally, he got out a whispered “why?”

You bit your tongue, arms wrapped around your body as you faced away from him. Your breathing got heavy and you could feel tears coming to your eyes. He’s definitely gonna leave you now.

When you didn’t respond he stood up slowly, walking towards you and wrapping his arms around you. His lips met the top of your head briefly before replacing them with his chin.

The feeling of his embrace was enough to send your walls crashing down, tears finally falling down your face. You shook in his arms, your knees buckling under you. He whispered as he held you up, “hey hey hey hey, I’m here, baby. I’m right here. You can talk to me.” He led you back to the couch, pulling you back into his lap. You turned towards him and buried your face into his chest. His arms wrapped around you tighter than they ever had before.

Your sniffles filled the room, followed by your quiet “I’m sorry.”

Colson shook his head, taking your face in his hand and moving it away from his skin so you were forced to look at him. “You don’t have to be sorry.” You nodded and he slowly wiped the tears from under your eyes. The soft motion made you calm down ever so slightly. After a few minutes of being held, your sobs stopped, tears not falling as hard. “Can we talk about this.”

You sniffled but nodded your head, your eyes not meeting his. “I’m not gonna be upset with you, or angry. I just need you to be honest with me, okay?” He asked, his blue eyes searching your face. You simply nodded again, turning your head all the way down so your nose was parallel to the floor. The top of your head pressed against Colson’s chest.

“How long?” His voice was a whisper, but it held an infinity of emotion.

You mumbled out a response, “a while.” You could feel how fast his heart was beating, “Before I met you. It’s just gotten a lot worse lately.”

He nodded, sucking his lips in. “Why didn’t you talk to me? You know you can always talk to me, darling.”

New tears fell from your eyes. “I tried to.” You whispered, feeling guilty. His hand moved to tuck a piece of your hair behind your ear.

He took a few moments to remember what you were talking about before he sighed. “Baby, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that you were so upset. I didn’t know.” He whispered, “But I know now, so from now on you gotta tell me if you feel like doing this to yourself.”

You nodded against him. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying that. Don’t be sorry, why are you sorry?” He asked

You shrugged, “sorry you have to deal with me.”

He grabbed your face again, this time forcing you to look him in the eyes. “Don’t ever say that again. Okay? I fucking love you. You’re going through some shit right now, but that doesn’t mean I’m gonna stop loving you. I don’t want you to ever think that.” As he spoke his harsh tone got softer, quieter.

“I just don’t feel like I’m good enough, for anything.” You slumped into him, your head laying on his shoulder.

His arms pulled you further into him, “Y/N, you are the smartest, most amazing, most beautiful person I’ve ever met. You’re literally about to become a doctor! That’s fucking incredible. I am so proud of you.”

“’m not really gonna be a doctor.” You mumbled, “I can’t get this fucking thesis approved.”

He sighed into your hair, “You are going to get through this. You have worked your ass off to get here, I know you’re not gonna let a stupid paper get in your way.” He pressed a kiss into your hair and you looked up to him, a pout still on your face. “Baby you aren’t just good enough, you’re better. I know it feels shitty right now but you’re gonna get through this. And I’m gonna be right here with you.”

He leaned down and pressed a deep kiss to your lips. It took a second, but you kissed him back. “Thank you.” You whispered when you pulled away, reaching up to wipe your tears away with the sleeve of your sweatshirt.

“I love you.” He whispered, “do you think we could throw your blades away?” He asked softly.

“I might need your help.” You whispered. He nodded, lifting you off his lap and standing up. He grabbed your hand and you led him to your bathroom. You found the bag and handed it to him. “I can’t…” You whispered, trying to stop the tears you felt behind your eyes.

Colson nodded, taking it from you and opening it, frowning at the metal inside. “I don’t want to throw them away here, because you could get them out of the trash later. So, I’m gonna take them back to my house tomorrow and I’ll throw them out there.”

You nodded, hand squeezing his. You moved closer to him, resting your free hand on his shoulder, and pressing your cheek against his chest. “I love you.”

He smiled down at you, wrapping his arm around you, “I love you too.”

#mgk #mgk imagine #mgk angst #mgk fluff #machine gun kelly #machine gun kelly imagine #Colson baker #colson x reader #colson baker imagine #colson baker fluff #colson baker angst #colson imagine

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luimagines · 3 years

Text

You React to Him getting Sick/Injured Part 3

Masterlist

Part 1 Part 2

The final installment of this prompt!

It will include Sky, Time and Twilight.

Content under the cut!

Sky

You were having an ok day.

It could have been better.

It could have been worse.

Very mediocre all around.

You looked around and saw how your friends were handling the change of scenery. It had happened in the middle of the night when most of the group was asleep. You had considered it a more merciful shift than what usually happens.

But it does always mess with the internal clocks of the groups. You never seem to shift from night to night. It’s always night to middle of the day.

And middle of the day usually brings trouble.

But since the group was asleep, it takes a lot of energy to get up and deal with whatever shenanigans the day brings.

You yawned and tried to rub the last of the sleep from your eyes. “Anyone know where we are?”

“Not a clue.” Wild speaks up from beside you and puts his sheikah slate back in its holster.

“Anyone see Sky?” You hear someone ask and you look around your surroundings in search of your friend.

“Nope.” You reply and stand up, stretching your arms over your head.

“I don’t see Sky either.” Hyrule comes to the middle of the group with a slightly concerned look on his face. “Where is he?”

“He’s not with us?” Warrior gets up, a little concerned and on verge of frantic pacing.

“Wasn’t it his watch?” You ask and take your first step to put away your bed roll.

“No. It was mine.” Wind answers. “But Sky was with us when we shifted.”

“Then where is he?”

“Here. Help.” You hear Sky’s voice come from above you and snap your head in his direction.

“Sky. I didn’t think you’d take your nickname so seriously.” You say and squint against the sunlight. It takes a while to see him but you take a step to the side and see him more clearly.

He’s stuck in a tree, arms and legs all snagged by a branch and holding him in place. “Get me out of here please.”

“Sky did you even manage that?” Four snickers slightly into his hand. “Weren’t you on the ground with the rest of us?”

“Believe it or not-” Sky glares. “-I was. and I don’t know how I got up here. I only know that this hurts and I can’t move. I’m pretty sure that all the blood is being cut off from my limbs. Get me down.”

“I got you. Hold on.” Wild grins and climbs up the tree with the same grace as a cat. He places himself on the a nearby branch next to Sky’s legs and chops away the tangling twigs with one of his sheikah swords.

“Is there anyway we can put like a tarp or something under him so he doesn’t just hit the ground?” You ask in a panic.

No one was doing anything, content to watch Wild hack away at the tree to free your friend.

“That’s not a bad idea.” Twilight shrugs and looks around your collective supplies. “Anyone have anything we can use?”

“Wild slow down, you might hurt him too!” You cry out again but he’s too focused on his mission to get Sky out to even notice that you’re speaking to him.

He frees up both of Sky’s legs in record time, quickly moving to his arm.

The debris collects right under them and lands without much fanfare.

But Sky were to just fall, he’d land right on top of them and it’s not an idea you’d like to entertain.

You dash under them and clean them up to the best of your ability while Twilight and Time look for something to break Sky’s fall.

Wild is working to fast for any of your to keep up and gravity does its part in tearing at the branches that aren’t strong enough to hold Sky up on their own.

He falls.

You dodge out of the way so Sky doesn’t land on you and barely succeed in avoiding the branches you moving out of the way. Sky however, isn’t so fortunate.

He tries to jump out of the way but trips over half of them. He gets up with a nasty gash on his face and a torn sleeve on his left side.

You hiss and pull him out from the pile, just time to avoid Wild as he jumps out of the tree next to you.

“Got him!”

“I can see that!” You growl and pull Sky away to start cleaning him up.

“Thanks guys. I feel like there’s bugs crawling under my skin but I’m glad to not be there any more than I had to be.” Sky smiles and kicks his feet a few times. He shakes his hands a few time for good measure as well and gradually begins to feel the blood move away and back to as it should be.

“You shouldn’t have been in there at all.” You scold and take out your personal medkit. “How did that happen?”

“How should I know? I woke up like that.”

“Sleep walking but he climb a tree instead.” Legend yawns and pats Sky’s head. “Gets the best of it.”

“I think you need to go back to sleep.” Sky smiles and moves his hand away from him.

“Whatever.”

“Sleepy Legend is best Legend.” You smirk and pull Sky’s face close to you with your hand to clean him up even more. “I can’t believe you got stuck in a tree.”

“I like to be up in the sky but not like that.” Sky snorts and lets you tend to him.

Time

You couldn’t believe what you had just witnessed.

Despite the cool and calm nature Time like to put off, you had seen him slip down a hill and roll right into a pricker-bush. With all calm demeanor lost, Time cursed in the loudest voice you had ever heard from him.

It had scared so much that you jumped and dropped your journal in the process.

You stood there staring at the man as he pull himself away from the bush and brush off all the thorns that he could reach. Curses kept falling from his mouth left and right but he at least had the decency to lower his volume and say them under his breath.

You took a breath to unfreeze yourself and stepped forward. “You ok Old Man?”

“I’m fine.” He snapped through gritted teeth.

“Ok.”

Time blinked for a second and sighed. Responding to you again in a softer voice. “I’m fine, really. Just.... inconvenienced.”

“If you say so.” You help to his feet and watch his back as he begin to walk away.

At first, it seemed like that was it.

A bit out of character but nothing to bat an eye at. Until Time started to look a little green in the face and had started sweating bullets.

“Time.” Warrior called out with a concerned wobble to his voice. “Are you ok? You don’t look so good.”

“Admittedly, I don’t feel so good.” He grunts and wipes his hands over his face.

“What happened?” Sky takes out a cloth to hand it over.

“He fell in a bush.” You explain.

“What did look like?” Four asks you, eyebrows furrowed and face deadly serious.

“Brown and dusty green with red tipped thorns.”

“Time.” Four turns. “You’ve been poisoned.”

“Poisoned?!” You yell.

“It’s all mild, but we’re done for today.” Four sigh. “It won’t kill him but it’s going to get worse before it gets any better.”

“I’m fine.” Time winces slightly and shakes his head. “I can keep going.”

“For like five more minutes.”

As if on cue, Time folds over himself and spins away from the group to vomit.

Any one that was close to him instinctually takes step back and recoils from the scene.

“Worse.” Four reiterates. “Before he’s better.”

Twilight takes a step by Time’s side and rubs small circles on what he can reach on Time’s back. “We’re going to need to find a spot to set up camp.”

“I’ll do it.” Sky raises a hand.

“I’ll go with you.” Warrior places a hand on his shoulder. “Let’s make this quick.”

“Agreed.”

“Wild.” You grimace as Time continues to dry heave and cough out enough sick to probably be part of last night’s dinner as well. “I don’t Time will be able to handle any food until this passes. Do you have anything that would pass for tea or maybe a light broth?”

“I think I can whip something up.” He nods and begin to look through his slate.

You make your way next to Twilight and Time and side step away from the dibbling bile. You place you hand on the back of Time’s neck and wince at the steady growing temperature. “This is going to be bad.”

“Come on Time. Let’s get you to somewhere out of the sun.” Twilight hums and begins to pull and lead Time away from the others, heading off in the vague direction that Sky and Warrior disappeared to. You follow and hook your arm around Time’s when you see he’s barely able to hold himself up anymore.

“Bad indeed.”

It’s a long night to say the least.

Twilight

You thought you had seen enough monsters to last you the next fifty lifetimes.

You were sick and tired of these guys and how they seemed to come from an never ending source.

Your sword clashed against the shield of an annoying lizalfos and it had to audacity to strike you back and not die.

“For the love of-” You bite back a curse and continue hacking away what you can at the beast. “Why. Don’t. You. Die!”

“Aim better than!” You hear Legend shout from across the battle field.

“Legend! So help me! I will cut you!” You shout back and finalize the beast in front of you by cutting off its head.

“You won’t, you love me.”

“I’ll throw something at your head then.” You spit and spin around to slash at the bokoblin that tried to sneak up on you. It doesn’t put up much of a fight and falls within seconds.

There’s a growl from behind you and you spin around to fight off the next attacker. It’s a huge moblin and you doubt for a split second that you can successfully block the upcoming attack.

But you don’t have to.

Wolfie comes up from the side and jumps on it, latching and sinking its teeth into the forearm of the monster, ripping its arc away from you. You grin and stab it in the opposite direction, keeping its attention on you instead of your wolf companion as he goes to help someone else.

That’s the plan anyway.

A separate monster, a stalfos, jumps and lands on your friend and sends the poor thing flying across the field with a crack.

“Wolfie!” You scream and run after him, ditching the monsters around you.

You can vaguely hear that Warrior takes over the monsters you’ve left behind and you see Wild run up with you toward your friend.

Wolfie tries to get back up onto his feet but he’s whining and not willing to put any weight on his front paw. There’s a patch on his fur that’s beginning to turn red and you think that there’s a bit of bone peaking out.

“Oh this is bad.” You kneel next to him and try your hardest to shift the fur gently.

Wolfie growls and even snaps at your hands as you try to help and get a bigger picture of what had happened to him.

“Wolfie, stop moving.” You whine and try to get him to sit back down. “We’re going to have to put your bones back in place, before we can even think about healing you.”

“Why do you think you can get away with stuff like this?” Wild scolds and kneels next to you, helping you place pressure on the rib. “You can’t do anything to me at this point.”

Wolfie growls again, trying to snap at your fingers but Wild grabs his snout and holds him down.

“What on earth are you two doing?” You hear Wind shout.

“Wolfie is hurt! We’re trying to help him!” You yell and place both of your palms on top of the bone, putting your knee on Wolfie’s abdomen to try and keep him in place. Wolfie for his part won’t stop squirming and you’re worried that you’re actually going to hurt him more if he doesn’t sit still.

“Wolfie. Stop being stupid.” Wild growls. “We’ll let you go in a minute. just stay still.”

Somehow he listens to your friend and stays still long enough for you to pop the bone back inside and shift it back into place. Woflie lets out a pain howl but you and Wild both let go of him when it’s safe to do so, jumping away from his teeth and personal space.

You’re quick to run over to where Epona holds your bag. You’re holding on to the hope that Wild will keep Wolfie there for a minute longer with his presence alone. You pull out a potion and run back, dashing and maneuvering around the battle field and left over monsters.

You bring out a bowl as well and pour the potion inside.

You place it on the ground by where Wolfie and Wild were having a stand off.

“Here, Wolfie. Come here boy.” You whistle and coo, trying to call your canine friend over to the potion.

Wild sends Wolfie what can only be called a smug look and he watches as the wolf limbs and whines his way over to hesitantly lick the contents of the bowl.

You sigh and begin to pet the friendly beast, trying to calm him as he drinks.

“Are you two just going to stand there?” Time shouts and he delfects another around of slashes.

You growl and stop petting Wolfie for a second. “You know what Old Man, I think I will! Fight your own monsters! These aren’t even from my time!”

“Good job.” Wild raises an eyebrow. “Now we’re all going to pay for it.”

“Not my problem. Wolfie probably just saved my life, I owe him this much.”

Wolfie pauses from drinking your potion and then licks your face instead.

You smile and push him away gently, trying to guide him back to the bowl to drink what’s left over. “One good turn deserves another, don’t you think? Drink up Wolfie, we’ll all be ok.”

Wolfie seems to nod at your words and drinks up the last of it.

Wild takes out his bow and strikes at whatever monsters try to get close.

You stay by Wolfie side and dread the talk you know you’re going to get from Time when this is over. Maybe Wolfie will bail you out again, who knows?

#linked universe #linked universe x reader #linkeduniverse #now #for the record #I based these scenarios on what the reader went through for the counterpart

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nataliedanovelist · 3 years

Text

Hey guys! WOW! Gossiping Gossipers has been really successful! I’m so glad people are enjoying it, both being a part of it and listening to it! It means the world to me! More episodes are definitely on the way, but the podcast will be taking a short hiatus so I can focus on my newest AU...

It may not be the most original, I’m sure it’s been done a few times, but i just couldn’t help myself. I am proud to say I FINALLY watched all 11 movies, and while I’m not nearly as obsessed with the franchise as I am Harry Potter, nor as fixated on it as I am Gravity Falls, Star Wars has many enjoyable elements despite it’s flaws and I’m excited to put characters we all know and love into such a unique world. (If you enjoyed How a Star Is Born or Beauty within the Fallen, I think you’ll really enjoy this Au as well!)

AND SO, please enjoy a special sneak peak at my newest AU...

The Galactic Empire has dictated hundreds of planets spread out over dozens of solar systems. All hope seems lost, but the Rebellion still stands against the Empire. A small team, calling themselves Rogue One, infiltrated an important facility and stole plans of the Empire’s newest weapon, the key to stopping mass destruction before it can begin.

The plans are now in the hands of General McGucket, who hopes to bring the plans to the Rebel Base on Yavin 4, but an imperial ship has invaded the rebel ship just outside the solar system of the planet Naboo.

The rebels loaded their guns and prepared to stand their ground. Darkness flooded the hall of the ship as the corridor was in bad shape thanks to the short battle between the Rebels and the Stormtroopers, but the fight was far from over. Everyone of the surviving Rebels felt a chill go down their spines; instincts told them they were not alone. Then a harsh, golden lightsaber was ignited, and the men and women fighting for hope saw their lives flash before their eyes.

The seven foot two leader who was more machine than man held more power in his right arm than most people could ever dream of having in their entire lives, and he proudly demonstrated it. A square-shaped mask resembling a man with dark, dead eyes hid the face well, and provided the sound of mechanical breathing. With gloves six-fingered hands, the second-in-command of the entire Empire used a mysterious force to throw four men to the ceiling by the throats, reflected blasts with his golden saber, and striked the other men down by stabbing them or cutting their heads off with heat more powerful than any sun.

Meanwhile, across the large ship, an old man with special green glasses, a long beard, and several missing teeth, was directing some of his soldiers to escape pods, saving anyone he could. A pig wearing a light-brown vest with a dozen pockets stayed close to his heels. General McGucket picked the pig up and muttered to himself, “Mabel’ll kill me if I lose ya, lil’guy.”

“Sir,” A soldier ran up to McGucket. “Darth Seissylt is on board! We have to leave now!”

McGucket nodded. “I know. Loads up the last of the escape pods n’ have ‘em go t’Yavin 4. Lead ‘em there, I’ll catch up with y’all.”

“Wait, where are you going, sir?”

“Gotta return this fella. Sweat Tea’ll be worried sick once she realizes he’s not home.” McGucket answered plainly as he hopped into his pod and shut the door.

The soldier shook his head in disbelief; only General McGucket would delay an important mission for a pig, but no matter how bizarre and weird his plans were, they always worked, so the young man sardined himself into an escape pod, and launched.

The doors did their jobs, and the brave souls who stayed behind distracted an enraged Dark Lord long enough that the pods were long gone by the time the Stormtroopers entered the threshold. Growling in his throat, Darth Seissylt entered the chamber for escape pods and demanded, “Comb through their computers! Find out where they are going!”

“Um…” One Stormtrooper looked nervously at the blasted computers. “That might take some time…”

With a snap of his fingers, Darth Seissylt choked the Stormtrooper to silence. Two more entered the room, bringing someone unexpected with them. “My Lord, we searched the entire ship. It’s been abandoned, but we managed to obtain a captive.”

Darth Seissylt peered down at whom his men had at gunpoint. A small girl in a pink woolly sweater, tan tights, and boots, with her hair in two swirling buns by her ears, looked merely curious, then smiled up at the tall man. “Hi! I’m Mabel!”

Darth Seissylt brushed off the fact that this girl was not afraid. She must not understand the gravity of the situation. “Well, it appears we found a child who’s hand was caught in the cookie jar. I will show you mercy if you tell me where the Rebel Base can be found.”

Mabel’s eyes lit up. “Wow! The Rebel Base! Sorry, Fiddleford never told me, but I bet it’s super cool! If I ever get there I’m gonna make everyone a sweater! What’s your favorite color? I bet your armor gets cold with all that metal.”

There was a moment of silence, apart from Darth Seissylt’s heavy breathing. Then he finally said, “She must know the location! Load her into the Star Destroyer!”

“Sir, what about the plans?” A Stormtrooper asked.

“If we can destroy the Rebellion then the location of the plans is unimportant.” Darth Seissylt answered, his eyes out the large window that showcased a green and blue planet. “Send half the men to Naboo and search the entire planet for General McGucket. I want him alive. If the Rebels aren’t delivering the plans to their base, McGucket will certainly have them in his possession.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

#GF #gravity falls au #gravity falls #gossiping gossipers #galaxy battles AU #fanfiction #Fiddleford McGucket #mabel pines

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q-gorgeous · 3 years

Text

Fallen Star

fanfiction

ao3

The events of Doctors Disorders reveals that humans CAN have ghost powers. How does the public react to this? What does this mean for Phantom? prompt by @mystyrust

prequel to Ghost Farm

word count: 2665

warning: character death, experimentation, kidnapping

i need you guys to know that agent z sounds like either e boy or fix it felix from wreck it ralph

A glowing mosquito sat in an ecto-proof jar on a pristine white counter. It bounced off the sides of the glass, desperately trying to escape. A black, gloved hand reached out and grabbed the jar and shook it.

“So humans can have ghost powers.”

An agent in an all white suit studied the mosquito.

“How was this any different than possession? Why did this kind of possession grant the students ghost powers instead of overshadowing them?”

He put the jar down and pushed himself away from the counter, facing another man in a white suit who had been standing behind him.

“Agent K. If we can figure out how these mosquitoes gave the teenagers ghost powers, we can use it in our fight against the ectoplasmic scum.”

“How would you suggest we go about that, Agent O?”

“We’ll have to reopen the old research compound. We can’t have the people of Amity Park finding out we’re doing this kind of research. The old compound is further away from the city so they won’t be able to trace it back to us so easily.”

“What about the test subjects?”

Agent O smiled darkly.

“We’ll have to go find some, now won’t we?”

QQQQQ

Star was walking down the street, on her way to meet Paulina at the mall. They were supposed to go pick up some dresses for a fancy dinner at Paulina’s house. Star had told Paulina that she already had something she could wear at home, but her friend insisted Star let her buy her something.

She turned around a corner heading down another street. The sidewalk here was pretty empty. The only person she saw was an old woman walking into her house and when her door shut, Star was all by herself.

That’s when she felt it. There were eyes gazing into the back of her head and she quickly picked up her pace.

She could hear heavy footsteps approaching from behind along with the crunch of gravel underneath tires. Looking over her shoulder, Star saw a man in a white suit behind her and a white car trailing behind him. For a moment, she felt a small relief. It was the GIW. They couldn’t possibly be after her. They must be tracking a ghost.

But the man had nothing in his hand and the way he stared at Star said otherwise.

She turned back around and was about to start running when a hand grabbed her long blonde hair. She cried out as she was pulled backwards towards the man. The car stopped beside them and another man left the car, pulling a bag over her head and tying her wrists together. They both lifted her up and she heard one open the trunk and then she was being thrown in.

“Help!” She screamed before the trunk slammed shut above her.

She heard two doors open and close before the car revved up and started driving away. Panic wormed its way into her chest and she started trying to pull her hands free.

Luckily, the rope around her wrists loosened. She didn’t know why these agents couldn’t tie a knot, but she had to be grateful for it. She pulled the bag off of her head but she still couldn’t see anything from inside the trunk.

Feeling around, Star tried to find a corner of the trunk where the tail light would be. When she found it, she turned around and started trying to kick into the spot. It took a couple tries, but she finally felt it start to give. With one final kick, a hole was made and she could see light coming into the trunk.

She turned back around and started pulling material away from the hole, trying to make it bigger. When it was big enough she stuck her hand through and started trying to wave it around in the daylight.

Suddenly, Star could feel the car turning. She hadn’t noticed they were slowing down until the turn and her heart rate began to pick up. Did they hear her kicking?

After another couple of turns, the car came to a stop and she could hear a door open.

The pop of the trunk sounded and she was blinded by the sunlight that shone behind the man who was staring down at her. She held his gaze in fear for a few moments and the next thing she knew he was swinging at her and she was gone.

QQQQQ

Star slowly woke up. The world came to her slowly and through her blurry eyes she could see white tiles, white walls, and a glass with a different man standing outside it.

She yelped and suddenly she was falling into the hard cot beneath her. She looked back up towards the ceiling. She had been floating? But how?

“What did you do to me?”

The man finished taking notes on his clipboard before his head tilted up to look at her. His dark sunglasses glinted in the light of the bright room. From somewhere to his left, he held up a jar with a bug in it. Was that…?

“The ghost mosquitos?”

“We are currently studying the causes and effects of ghost powers in humans. Our first study involves introducing one of the ectoplasmic specimens to a host and observing.”

Star took in a sharp breath. “You put one of those inside me? On purpose?”

The agent continued without acknowledging her. “You have the honor of being our first test subject. We would have never thought of the possibility of humans having ghost powers until half the high school was quarantined. We can guarantee this information to be invaluable in the battle against ghosts.”

A mounting horror was beginning to gnaw its way into Star’s chest. “What are you going to do to me?”

“We will be performing a series of tests, starting with measuring the effects of long term possession and then moving onto introducing ectoplasm to the host.”

“Ectoplasm?! Isn’t that toxic to humans?!”

“Yes, but we’ll introduce it in small amounts that increase over time.”

Star stared at the ground below her, horrified. “You guys are crazy.”

“Not crazy, innovative.”

Her head snapped up to look at the agent. He had a sly look on his face, like this was the best possible thing he could be doing at this time.

“You’re crazy!” Star shouted.

She shot forward faster than what should be possible and slammed her fist into the glass in front of the agent’s face. He didn’t so much as flinch. He just lifted his clipboard back up and began to write another note.

“Promising progress.”

Then he began to walk away.

“Come back!” She pounded on the glass again. “Come back, you son of a bitch!”

He continued walking away down the hallway until she couldn’t see him anymore. Alone in her quiet room, Star’s anger faded back to fear. She looked down at her shaking hand.

How much worse could this get? What kind of changes were they expecting to happen to her? It was just possession! Overshadowing! Albeit, a different kind. Normally people don’t remember what happened while they were overshadowed, she didn’t know the difference between this and that. She wasn’t even in the batch of kids that had been quarantined.

But she had been flying. Moving faster than she should be able to. She’d been so much stronger than what she actually is, and she still couldn’t get out. Couldn’t break free.

Star took another look down the long hallway and dread filled her stomach.

She didn’t think she’d be getting out of here.

QQQQQ

With no changes in her powers via mosquito three days later, the agents went onto the next part of their plan.

One minute Star was floating above her bed counting the ceiling tiles, the next she was on the floor clutching at her head as something pulsed in her room. By the time the pulsing stopped, she was already strapped into a chair. She could feel the full weight of gravity and she knew the mosquito was gone. They were moving onto the injections now.

She looked up and sitting in front of her was another different agent. This one looked younger than the three she had seen already.

“Hi! I’m Agent Z!”

She hasn’t met any rookie GIW agents before, but that must be what this guy is. The newest addition.

“Today we’ll be starting the introduction of ectoplasm trial! Today we’ll start with a small amount of ectoplasm, which will increase in amount each day! As the days go by, we’ll start doing two doses of ectoplasm per day.”

Maybe she can work with this.

“Uh. You seem real chipper. Are you new to the GIW or something?”

“Yep!” Agent Z said brightly. “This is my first special assignment!”

“Doesn’t it bother you that you’re experimenting on a human though? Isn’t that a terrible thing that they’re making you do?”

“They’re not making me do anything!”

Star paused. “What?”

“I was the only agent who volunteered for the position! I think this is all very exciting!”

“What the hell.” Star whispered. “You’re all insane.”

“It’s not insane if you’re benefiting the rest of humankind!”

“That-”

Star let out a cry of pain as she was interrupted. The needle plunged into her arm and Agent Z pushed the ectoplasm out of the needle and into her veins. It burned as it flowed into her arm and was kind of cold, but it was nothing compared to the pins and needles sensation that began to cover her entire body.

“There we go!” Agent Z said chipperly. “I’ll see you again tomorrow for your next dose!”

He got up and walked to the door, scanned his keycard, and left.

What happened to the observation part of their research?

Suddenly the straps holding her wrists and ankles in place opened and she shot up away from the chair. She hobbled her way to her bed, the pins and needles sensation crawling faster through her legs and feet with each step she took.

She flopped onto the bed and cringed as the sensation crawled over every inch of her body. She looked up at the ceiling, intending to continue counting the tiles again, when she saw something new.

A small camera was fastened to the glass on the outside of her room, staring at her.

She stared at it for a few moments before she lifted her hand up and flipped off whoever was watching her.

QQQQQ

Four days later and she was starting to feel sick from the ectoplasm injections. Today was the first day they’d be giving her two doses and the pins and needles sensation still settled in her limbs, never having gone away from when they woke her up with the prick of a needle at seven am that morning.

She was starting to face constant nausea and her hands had been clipping through the things in her room for two days now. She could barely stomach the meager amount of food they were giving her anymore and she knew she wouldn’t last much longer if this kept up.

Star heard the door slide open from where she laid on her bed. She knew they could tell she wasn’t doing well. They no longer used that horrible pulsing thing on her before they came in. She didn’t have enough energy to fight back anymore.

Agent Z quickly approached her and sat her down in the chair, positioning her wrists so that the straps locked firmly around them. He roughly grabbed her arm and stabbed her with the needle. She screamed as the ectoplasm flowed into her arm, hot and burning all the way in.

“There we go, all done!” Agent Z said as he pulled away. “That wasn’t so hard was it?”

She glared at the man through her greasy hair. He was talking to her like she was a child getting a shot at the doctor’s office.

“Fuck you.” She spat.

“I’ll see you tomorrow for your next dose!”

With that, he swiped his keycard and walked through the door and out of the room.

The straps released her wrists and she collapsed to the floor. Shivers wracked through her body even though she could still feel the hot ectoplasm flowing in her veins.

Star didn’t want to die, but she hoped to whatever deity might be out there that this would all be over soon. She didn’t know how much more she could take.

Suddenly, her stomach rolled and she was gagging and throwing up the little bit she had managed to eat earlier. Spots lined her vision and she slowly crawled her way to her bed, just wanting to fall asleep. Almost as soon as she got on it and curled up, she was gone.

QQQQQ

When Star awoke the next morning, she realized she was already strapped into the chair with Agent Z standing before her. The two agents that had first picked her up were standing on the other side of the window.

“Due to your worsening condition, today will be the last day of the ectoplasm injection trial, you’ll only receive one dose today. Starting tomorrow we’ll begin testing the effects of ectoplasmic charged electricity. We will take a few days break in order for you to gain some semblance of stability.”

“Why not just stop the trials altogether then?” Star rasped.

“The information we have gathered this far is invaluable. We’ve learned that some ways to attain ghost powers are safer than others, while others are more dangerous but much more potent. If We can find that balance between these then we’d have the ultimate weapon in our hands.”

“You guys are monsters.”

“Your participation will do much to protect your friends and family in Amity Park.” He nodded at Agent Z. “Go ahead.”

Agent Z plunged the needle into Star’s arm.

With that last injection, Star screamed. The sound reverberated around her room over and over again, Agent Z covered his ears to protect himself from it. And then suddenly, Star’s ghost was ripping itself from her body, which fell limp against the chair it was strapped to.

Her ghost form flickered brightly, like a star in the sky. She turned her brightly glowing eyes on Agent Z who was looking up at her with wide eyes, his hands still covering his ears. Star dove for him.

Lifting him by the throat, Star picked him up and started throwing him into every wall as she flew around her small room. The ghostly trail she left behind her looked like the tail of a sparkling comet and soon blood was spattering onto the glass.

Agent O pressed a button on the outside wall and the room lit up in a bright green flash and Star was falling to the floor, a beaten agent falling from her grasp into a heap.

“Call in the sanitization and disposal team and have them come clean up this mess.” Agent O said to Agent K, who was staring at Agent Z inside the room.

“Our Agent Z’s never last long.” K said sharply. “What should we do with the girl’s ghost?”

Agent O had a thoughtful look on his face. “We’ll keep it here for study. Her ghost must be a powerful one, that act it displayed immediately upon death is one I’ve never seen before.”

He turned around to face Agent K. “We’ll need to go gather another test subject. We’ll plan to go in two days once this mess is cleaned up.”

“Sir, I respectively ask how will we get any conclusive data if all of our subjects keep dying?”

Agent O barked out a laugh. “Who cares if they die. All that matters is that we get our answers in the end. What better way to get ghosts for research and dissection than by harvesting them ourselves?”

“Like a ghost farm, sir?”

“Yes.” Agent O Smiled wickedly.

“Like a ghost farm.”

#gorgi writes #danny phantom #star #agent k #agent o #giw #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #phic #phic phight #team ghost #phic phight 21

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stark-strange-love2 · 3 years

Text

A Day at the Fair

My submission for the ironstrange fanfic challenge!

Prompt:

Tony drags Stephen out on a date to the fair, despite Stephen insisting he doesn’t want to go. Tony spends the whole day trying to show Stephen how much fun it is until finally, Stephen breaks down and confesses the real reason he didn’t want to come today.

Tags:

Omega Stephen Strange, Alpha Tony Stark, high school au

Tony grinned, practically vibrating with excitement as he rolled out of bed. Every year he and Stephen went to the fair, the closest thing their tiny town had to offer for fun. He grabbed his phone from his nightstand.

T: Heeeeeey Steph~

S: Tony? What is it?

T: Well I was wondering if you would like to accompany me to the fair this fine day, as per our usual tradition

Stephen took a few minutes to reply. Tony set down his phone, brushed his teeth, dressed, and sat down for breakfast. Stephen still hadn’t replied. Then, as he was pouring cereal, his phone dinged.

S: Idk. I’m not feeling up to it rn

T: Okay… do you wanna come over and hang out then? My parents are out of town… I could even sneak a bottle of wine for us

S: Eh… let’s just go to the fair.

Tony smiled.

T: Great! I’ll pick you up in an hour?

S: Sure

The fair was loud and hot and crowded. It reminded Tony of every fantastic summer with Stephen he could think of. Tony squeezed Stephen’s hand, but Stephen didn’t squeeze back.

“Hey, Steph, are you okay? You seem a little off-color.”

Stephen bit his lip.

“Just tired I guess. I have a bit of a headache.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Tony leaned up and kissed Stephen’s cheek, then down to his unmarked scent gland. “Maybe we can sit down near the back? Have some lunch? I have Asperin too if you need it. We can even go back home if you’d like. Anything for you,” Tony said.

Stephen smiled softly.

“Lunch sounds good.”

He finally squeezed Tony’s hand back.

“Ugh, don’t they have anything remotely healthy?” Stephen bitched, scrunching up his face at the third deep-fried Oreo stand they passed.

“Oh? Are you doing another vegan kick or something?”

Stephen shook his head, cheeks pink.

“Uh- no. No, just trying to eat a little healthier, that’s all.”

“Can you take a break for today?” Tony asked. God knew he wasn’t planning on eating well today.

“Well… I mean…” Stephen worried his lip between his teeth. “I’d just feel better if I ate healthily, that’s it.” He didn’t meet Tony’s eyes.

They finally found something reasonably healthy- chicken tenders and lemonade- and sat down at a table under a large tree. Somewhere in the background, a band was playing. Stephen picked at his food while Tony happily munched away.

“After this do you want to go on a ride?” tony asked.

Stephen shook his head.

“No rides.”

“Why? Are you still not feeling well?”

Stephen didn’t meet Tony’s eyes, electing instead to look off into the never-ending distance, hazy with the feeling of the fair, a haziness that stayed in Stephen’s mind and mulled like a roiling, humid cloud of every problem that had ever graced him. The heat clung to his skin. His stomach turned and he looked down, his arms folded over his abdomen. Tony could smell the scent of unhappy omega from across the table.

“Yeah. Not feeling great,” he lied.

Tony’s eyes were so warm and comforting that Stephen’s stomach couldn’t help but crawling higher into his throat and nestling there like some sort of weak and defenseless baby bird. Stephen’s cheeks were hot with shame.

“Are you sure that’s everything? Please tell me if something’s bothering you, Stephen. I love you. I want to help.”

Stephen’s stomach churned and he ran to the nearest trashcan and threw up. Tony leaped to his feet and rushed over but Stephen waved him away.

“Oh God- oh God Stephen!” Tony cried.

“I’m- I’m fine,” Stephen coughed. He wiped his mouth and downed his lemonade, popping a few breath mints into his mouth. He let out a low groan and took a deep breath.

“Jesus Stephen, let’s go home. You’re sick. You need to rest.” “No. You brought me here on a date. We’re staying.” The resolution in Stephen’s voice felt strong and clear and hard and unwavering, the same way a freshly poured asphalt highway stretches on and on and on until it dissolves into a dazzling mirage. Endless and resolute in a way that made Tony feel tiny in comparison.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Stephen ate his last chicken tender and tossed the tray.

“Maybe we can try at one of those fair games,” Stephen offered.

“Aren’t they all rigged?”

“Well that makes winning more impressive,” Stephen said with a grin.

Stephen took Tony’s hand and they walked through the fair before stopping at a booth: balloons and darts. Stephen bent over, looking at the booth. Then there was a loud whistle and a squeak from Stephen that had Tony’s alpha growling in his chest. Tony turned and snapped at the fuck boy alpha that currently had his hand on his omega’s ass. Stephen turned and slapped the guy’s hand away, face red and furious. His blue-green eyes burned like two twin stars hovering above the ocean horizon.

“Hey sweet-cheeks, what’s a pretty little omega like you doing with a boring alpha like him?” the guy said with a thousand-watt smile.

“Not interested.”

“Aw, come on baby, don’t be like that.”

“He said he’s not interested,” Tony growled.

The guy rolled his eyes.

“Fine, tightass.”

He stalked away and Stephen’s resolve broke. His entire body drooped and he sank into his seat, the smell of pure displeasure and unhappiness radiating from him like a morning fog over a valley. Tony sighed and pulled Stephen to his chest, holding him tight.

“Fuck Stephen- I’m so sorry.”

“Not your fault,” Stephen mumbled.

But there was a flat sort of grey hanging in his eyes and Tony knew it wasn’t okay, but he also knew there was nothing he could ever do. Tony held him close, whispering gentle things into Stephen’s ears.

“Hey, I saw what happened.” Tony looked up to see the carnival stand girl looking apologetic at the two of them. “I don’t know if this would make you feel better, but would you like to play a few rounds for free? It’s on the house.”

Tony smiled and looked to Stephen.

“Does that sound fun?”

Stephen shrugged, laying his chin on the counter.

“You play. I’ll watch.”

Tony nodded, a plan in mind. He missed the first shot but nailed the next four. Then he aimed for the bright yellow balloon titled ‘10,000 points.’ It was tiny, underinflated, and unlikely to pop from elasticity tension. Tony ran a few trajectory equations through his head, nibbling at his lip. He had two darts left. Gravity was his best bet, if he could arc the dart so it landed into the balloon, he might stand a chance. All the other balloons were one point, and by now, he could maybe get Stephen one of those cute little teddy bears, but he wanted to get Stephen something bigger. Like that giant fluffy round hamster plushy the size of Tony’s body.

The first dart missed, bouncing off the board and falling to the ground. Tony took a deep breath and tossed the last dart in a high arc, watching as it fell and fell and fell and gained velocity until it popped the yellow balloon with a loud snap.

Stephen grinned and clapped and Tony did a little dance. The girl grinned.

“Congratulations! What prize would you like?”

Tony grinned and pointed up at the massive hamster. The girl pulled down the hamster and passed it to Tony who promptly passed it to Stephen.

“Hey, I know today hasn’t been great, but I’m really glad I got to spend time with you today. You never fail to make me happy, even when the whole world feels bad, and I want you to know I want to be there for you, on all the good days and bad.”

Stephen looked at the hamster, then back at Tony. He sniffled and broke down in tears.

“Oh God- Stephen? Was it something I said? Are you okay? Oh God, I’m so sorry!” Tony stammered.

Stephen whimpered, tears pouring down his face. Then he turned and ran, the hamster in his arms as he wove through the crowd and through carnival stands. Tony stared after him, heart sinking. He stood there for a second before taking off after Stephen.

It took him twenty minutes to find Stephen in one of the animal shows, surrounded by cages of fluffy baby bunnies. He was crying silently into the hamster, squeezed tight in his arms. Tony knelt beside him.

“Stephen?” His voice was soft. Something was very wrong. “Please… please just tell me what’s wrong. I want to help you.”

Stephen looked away. His chest was so full of lead he couldn’t bring himself to speak. He felt heavy and dense, like an ancient tree rooted to the ground, bark worn by the elements but still there. Unmoving. Unable to move.

“Please.”

Stephen let out a choked whimper.

“I don’t know if I’m ready to tell you.” His voice was cracking and frail. So weak. But it was the truth.

“That’s okay. I just want to make sure you’re safe… are you safe?” Tony asked, taking Stephen’s hands in his.

Stephen nodded.

“It’s just… I don’t know.” Stephen hung his head.

“It’s okay not to know,” Tony whispered. “Do you want to go home now?”

Stephen shook his head.

“I want to ride the Ferris Wheel. Like we do every year.”

Tony smiled softly and hugged Stephen, staying there for a second, the way a curling vine of ivy finds comfort in cracked bark, grey with exhaustion. They stayed there for a bit, nestled amongst the animal cages and beneath the flair of the crowded festival like the world was fog and they were the grass, rooted in place.

Stephen moved first, reaching up and pulling himself to his feet and then reaching for Tony to help him up.

“You know, you’re the best alpha I could have ever wished for,” Stephen said with a small, bittersweet smile.

“Well… I couldn’t have asked for anyone better to fall in love with,” Tony responded.

“Do you promise you’ll always be with me? Through everything?” Stephen asked, squeezing Tony’s hand.

“Of course. I love you, Stephen. And nothing can ever make me stop.”

Tony leaned up and kissed Stephen softly, sweetly. Stephen let his eyes drift closed and he savored every single saccharine second.

They found the Ferris Wheel easily. It was the center of the fair, after all. And one long line later they were sitting in a car going up and up and up. Stephen fidgeted quietly. It was funny how the second all you needed was time it seemed to twist and turn and go faster and faster so blindingly fast you can barely even remembered what you prepared to say. When the carriage got halfway up its arc Stephen bit his lip, letting out a little, tightly-wound sigh.

“Tony… I need to tell you what’s wrong. I’ve been avoiding it all day, but… I just wanted one last good day with you before it all changed.” Stephen looked over the edge of the carriage and let out a dry chuckle. “Although I suppose I ruined my chance at that, too.”

“What- what are you talking about?” Tony’s voice was on edge.

“I-I’m pregnant.”

Stephen stared at Tony full-on. He kept searching for something other than shock but it was like combing a beach for something that just wasn’t there. Stephen’s hands started to shake.

“T-Tony? Please say something.”

Stephen’s voice sounded so small. He felt so small.

“Am I- Am I the dad?” Tony finally asked.

Anger flared deep in Stephen’s gut and for a moment he wanted to slap Tony off of the stupid Ferris Wheel.

“Of course you’re the father!” Stephen snapped. “You fucking idiot- you really think I’m screwing a dozen alphas behind your back?”

His scent soured and he turned away, glaring. Tony stayed quiet.

“Whatever. You probably want to break up with me now anyways. Just do it. I don’t want to have you pretend to care about this. I’ll just… forget about my full-ride to Columbia. I doubt my parents will even let me go. They want me to stay on the farm and become a good obedient little housespouse omega.” Stephen let out an involuntary whimper. Tears were pouring down his cheeks and he hugged himself. “I thought I was going to be happy… I thought I was going to have a future, but I- I don’t know anymore!”

The whole world felt like it was collapsing, folding in an compressing into one invincible singularity stuck in Stephen’s windpipe. Everything was spinning and hot and his head hurt so so much… Stephen closed his eyes and buried his face in his hands, sobbing.

Then, Tony gently wrapped his arms around Stephen, pulling the crying omega to his chest.

“Shh… it’s okay. I’m sorry, I just… I’m a father…” A small smile appeared on Tony’s face. “I couldn’t believe it. But Stephen, whatever you choose to do, this is your choice, and I will back you up 1,000%. I love you, and I meant it when I said I would stay with you no matter what. I know how much medical school means to you, and I swear that I can help you take care of our child so you can study if you choose to keep it. You don’t need to give up your dream, your dream can always stay. If you choose not to keep it, then I’ll be there for you too. No matter what you choose, we’re in this together.”

Stephen let his hands fall away from his face and his head plop on Tony’s shoulder. He was still crying and shaking, but this time from happiness. Tony wasn’t leaving him. He wasn’t going to be stuck alone on a farm his whole life. He would be okay. They would be okay.

He turned and tackled Tony in a hug, enough to rattle their cart. Tony laughed and held them as they reached the top of the Ferris Wheel, watching as the sun set over the fair and the town and everything surrounding it and turned it all to gold.

#ironstrange fanfic challenge #ironstrange fanfiction #ironstrange #tony stark #stephen strange #omega stephen strange #alpha tony stark #iron man #doctor strange #avengers #supremefamily #marvel #mcu

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masterwords · 3 years

Text

Like Falling Sand

Chapter Four: You See Through Me Don't You?

Notes: Well, this chapter got away from me and I had to break it up into two or it was just going to be too long for my taste. We're embracing some sick/aftercare vibes, some hearing loss, getting really deep into Hotch and those pesky ears. Things are about to get pretty heavy for the two of them so even though I'm putting Hotch through the ringer here, I'm trying to keep it somewhat lighthearted before the shitstorm starts. Anyway! I have a house guest coming tonight and staying a few days so the next chapter will be up after the weekend. I know...we have a lot of guests...living at the ocean means everyone wants to use your house as a B&B. There are worse things I guess. :)

Warnings: A lot of swearing but it's otherwise just soft.

Words: ~3800

Previously On: Chapter List

Tag List: @disgruntledchowchow @84hotpockets @olivinesea (Let me know if you'd like to be added!)

Rain battered the window of Aaron's hot bedroom, vibrating the walls with trembling ferocity. It coursed through his aching bones, made him long to look out into the dark and watch it hammer the black asphalt. He loved the way it could make the flashing red and yellow of the streetlights outside dance, become so hypnotizing he would sit and stare in a trance at something so mundane turned beautiful. The cool glass called to him, begged him to press his fevered cheek there and drink in the relief it would bring if only he could.

4:34am on a Monday morning, and he couldn't move. Paralyzed by a terrible spinning sensation that worsened with every breath, every twitch of his muscles. He'd woken in a cold sweat, trembling, tried to recall what nightmare had violated him this time but it was nothing so simple. His head weighed a ton, he couldn't pull himself upright and the room spun violently as if the entire world had just given up on gravity and gone hurtling through space. With his eyes closed, he felt the strange sensation of being seasick right there in his bed while holding perfectly still. His bed that he knew wasn't moving but his body was convinced otherwise. Being in the water, rocking back and forth, gasping for a breath as his ears burst under the pressure and the world was just all wrong.

It should have scared him, but after the few weeks he'd had, it didn't. He'd simply reached his capacity for fear, for worrying about his health. His lack of fear, he thought with some bitter amusement, was slightly concerning, more than the intensity of the vertigo that pinned him beneath his sweat soaked sheets.

He should have been on the road by now, he kept repeating the same thing as his world rocked back and forth, a ship battling a squall. There was no way, he'd known that from the moment his eyes opened to the fury of his ears but there was always that voice in his head telling him he had to try. Always on thin ice, easily replaced, had to show his face no matter what. He fumbled for his phone on his nightstand, working blindly and patting himself on the back for his attention to detail, always putting it back in exactly the same spot every night. Nausea racked him from stem to stern and he gulped it down, settling back into the bed with the cold phone in his sweaty palm. Attempting to squint, to see the phone through the intensity of the bright light, he willed his eyes to focus long enough to bypass the security and pull up Dave's number – speed dial, number one, David Rossi. He fumbled through a half blind text letting him know he was working from home, errors be damned. The longer his eyes were open the worse the spinning was. Dave would have his phone on silent until at least 7am, at which time Aaron knew he'd open the text, probably get very concerned over the quality the thing, and start devising a plan to have someone make sure he was all right. It wasn't ideal, but he had plenty of time to figure out a way around his home being invaded by well meaning colleagues. He never could tell where their concerns lie, if he was being honest. Sometimes it seemed they were worried about him as a friend, other times simply as their leader. Any given day the mood seemed to shift and he was left never quite knowing where he stood with any of them.

It wasn't enough to concern himself over now, though. His head was beginning to pound mercilessly, pressure building behind his temples and his ears burned hot down into his jaw. Sleep was the only thing on his mind, the only place he could be where he felt normal.

“Who missed me?” Derek asked, sauntering into the bullpen with his go bag thrown over his shoulder. Emily glanced up at him and rolled her eyes dramatically.

“Has it been a whole week already?” she whined to Spencer who grinned, blowing the entire thing. He couldn't help it, the happiness at seeing Derek back in the BAU was radiating off of him. Emily groaned and muttered something about him not even trying before she let the ghost of a smile slip herself. They were all glad to see him back, glad he was okay. The incident in Seattle had gotten to all of them, and when Derek was told he had to take the week off because he had a concussion, they were all thrown a little off.

And then there was Aaron and his declining health over the course of the week prior, but they weren't planning to tell Derek about that just yet.

He threw his bag beneath his desk, kicked it into the back corner where he wouldn't be tempted to put his feet on top of it and plopped heavily into his chair. It took his weight, spun a little and tipped back just enough that he could kick his feet up on his desk. Emily looked him over, just a quick check, noting that the cut over his eyebrow was mostly healed but stood out just enough that it made him look like a Bond supervillain, a fact she was certain he had already considered and was eating up. Waiting for someone to say something. She wouldn't mention it, wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

“What'd I miss?”

“Nothing,” Spencer muttered, averting his eyes now. “You didn't miss anything, everything is fine.” Emily groaned louder and sighed, she was going to have to work with the kid on his poker face. For someone who grew up in Vegas, he couldn't bluff his way out of a paper bag when it came to fooling any of them. They could read him like an open book.

“Out with it, kid,” Derek said, shaking his head. Even he'd hoped he would have to try a little harder to get the gossip. He looked around, noted that everything was in place, no one in the bullpen was missing, the coffee pot was still functioning. Letting his eyes trail further, he saw Dave's door open, saw Chief Strauss standing just inside the door talking with him, and just a few feet away Aaron's door was closed, blinds drawn. Bingo, there it was. He should have looked there first, really.

“Hotch?” Derek asked, letting his feet slip from the top of his desk to the floor and leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees. “Something up with Hotch?”

“Talk to Rossi,” was the reply he received from both Emily and Spencer. It was his turn to roll his eyes and he did so with such flair that Emily cracked her first real smile of the day. Before he could push all the way out of his chair, he heard Penelope come flying through the room, announcing her presence with the clicking of her heels. She wrapped herself around him, held him too tight, too long and he knew he'd really screwed up.

“Babygirl, I talked to you every single day I was out...” he reasoned, arms circling her shoulders, indulging her anyway. She nodded.

“I know,” she whispered, squeezing him tighter. He felt the tears wetting his shirt and felt his heart break. “But I haven't seen you since before Seattle and I just...”

“Okay, okay. Mama, you gotta chill. I'm good.” He paused, waited for her to ease her grip, and smiled. “There you go. Okay, I don't wanna go deal with Strauss yet...someone wanna tell me what's up with Hotch?”

“You haven't talked to Rossi yet?” Penelope asked, wiping her eyes delicately, fingertips swiping beneath her glasses. He shook his head, pressing his thumb to her cheek and wiping the smear of mascara left behind, second nature. Penelope smiled, eyes shining bright with tears.

“I'm right here, in the flesh, feelin' good. Don't you worry your pretty head about me.” She nodded again, sucking in a ragged breath. He felt awful, he'd really put her through the ringer over the last few weeks. The ambulance in NYC was just the tip of the iceberg, he knew it. For all of them. The BAU felt a little tighter, a little smaller since that night, since Aaron and Derek and the bombs that left the team in tatters. They were looking at each other more cautiously, reminded once again how very little it would take to shatter their little world.

The moment Strauss walked out of Dave's office, Derek made his way up. Not sure what he'd find, what he was hoping for, whether he even really wanted to know. A few more days off would have been nice.

“Where's Hotch?”

“He called in sick today,” Dave replied with a shrug, watching Derek enter his office like he owned the place. Neither of them bothered with formalities or small talk, no how do you dos, just the facts. “Texted, actually.” He held his phone out, offered the mess of a text to him. It read like something a 2nd grader would produce, words half spelled, no grammar, like he'd been typing blind. He narrowed his eyes at Dave, raising an eyebrow.

“Did you check on him?” he asked and Dave shook his head. “Looks like he was having a stroke, man.”

“Well, I think that's a stretch," Dave muttered. "He may lack the basic instinct for self-preservation but I do think if he was in mortal danger he would do more than send a half blind text to me three hours before he knows I would ever read it. Besides, somehow I doubt he'd appreciate my just popping by,” was the response and Derek couldn't tell you why but it made his blood boil. It was the truth, he knew it as well as Dave did, but it didn't have to make him happy. The absurdity of his anger was not lost on him. He was about to blow his top when Dave handed him a peace offering, nonchalant and yet there was an undercurrent of premeditation. “He has a deposition he's preparing for, he forwarded me an email requesting a box of files from his desk. If you want to check on him, there's your way in.”

Derek sank heavily into a chair and grunted his disapproval. He worked with idiots.

“You know, Rossi, sometimes I really hate this job. When I was a cop in Chicago, someone called in sick I thought oh, hell, I hope they feel better. Or fuck, now I gotta pull some extra weight. But someone here calls in sick? My first instinct is to go check on them, put myself in their damn home...what does that say about this place?”

“Nothing,” Dave replied softly, leaning back in his chair. He knew Derek was going to do it, he could see the look in his eyes and he was proud of himself. He would have done it, was planning on going but there was something about sending Derek in that just felt right. Better. “It says everything about you and how you feel about this team.”

“Yeah...well. It says I'm a damn sucker, then. I'll take those files to his house at lunch time, I'm not gonna get anything done if I don't go see for myself what could possibly be bad enough for him to call in sick. That fuckin' text man. What the fuck.”

Dave smiled and shook his head. He'd seen Aaron the week prior, he had a pretty good idea, but he was going to let Derek see for himself.

The good news, Aaron had already decided, was that his hearing was almost completely gone in his right ear and fading fast in his left which meant loud noises had no power over him for the time being. It was a relief. The pressure in his temples, the shards of glass lining his throat, the vice grip of his jaw, the fever and the chills attacking from both sides, those things were misery but there was no ringing. The vertigo had taken a backseat, at least while he lay perfectly still in the middle of his bed with his eyes closed. It was the silence, though, that brought him comfort. It was almost enough to make him smile through the pain.

It also meant he couldn't hear the doorbell. Or the furious sound of pounding fists on hard wood – Haley's angry fists, Jack's tiny copycats.

“Aaron!” she called. Bang bang bang. “Aaron I'm going to be late for work, this isn't funny!”

Silence. She pulled out her phone and paced the hallway, gritting her teeth. He wasn't a joker, she knew he wasn't just sitting in there having a laugh but she was getting angrier by the minute and her mind shot through a thousand different scenarios, none of which were even remotely accurate and all of which painted him in a rather dingy light. She could call Jessica, but then her sister would have to leave work early and she'd already done that enough times that she was on thin ice. She could call one of her friends and hope they didn't have plans. No, it was Aaron's day to have Jack. Aaron's morning to drop him off at school and pick him up and she wasn't going to baby him, let him off the hook because he was a big important man and he forgot about his commitment – she decided to call Derek, the same number she'd been calling for years when she needed someone to bully Aaron. He had this way about getting right under Aaron's skin without even breaking a sweat and he always got results.

“Morgan?”

“Yeah...” Derek said, frowning at the number on the phone. He didn't recognize it, but he gave his number out to so many people it wasn't surprising. Between prospects he met out on the town to victims and families and LEOs who needed support, his phone was ringing all day with numbers he didn't know. “Who is this?”

“It's Haley,” she said and opened her mouth to clarify, wondering if she was being too familiar for someone who had recently divorced his friend. “Aaron's ex-wife.”

Derek laughed. “I don't know any other Haleys, girl. What can I do for you? Hotch called in sick today, he's not here, in case you were trying to find him.”

She glared at his door and then down at Jack exasperated. “I'm standing at his door right now and he's not answering. I have to be to work in an hour, I was supposed to drop Jack off here and Aaron said he'd take him to school and now he's not answering his door and...” She was spiraling, ranting, repeating herself as she dug deeper into her anger and Derek was already walking out of the office with keys and box of files in hand. He'd been planning on making the trip anyway, it was just earlier than he'd expected.

“Woah, woah, slow your roll. I've got a key, I'll be right over. We'll make sure he's okay, and if he's not home I'll take Jack to school. We'll figure this out, no need to panic.”

She took Jack out front and let him play on the small patch of emerald grass while they waited, knowing the building super didn't love having anyone walk on it but she dared them to come and talk to her right now about it. They would regret it. The grass was slick, still damp from the overnight rain storm and the knees of Jack's pants were streaked with green by the time Derek came walking toward her hefting a banker box and two coffees.

“I didn't know your order so I got you what I always get JJ,” he smiled, handing her the coffee. He knew how to smooth things over, and he also knew that she was about to snap so really he was saving Aaron's life. It worked, she softened immediately and thanked him, apologized for calling him to come out of his way and deal with her shit show. Jack bounded down the hall toward his dad's door excitedly, ready to go inside and change his clothes and play with his toys before school. Haley hung back, let Derek approach the door first, enter without knocking. The air inside was hot, stuffy like he'd turned up his thermostat to nearly inhuman levels and Derek thought back to times he'd shared hotel rooms with Aaron, the discomfort of hot air being trapped in his lungs.

“You guys hang out here for a minute, okay?” Derek spoke to her like she hadn't spent half her life living with Aaron, knowing better than he did what to expect or how to proceed but to his surprise, she listened to him. Divorce was a funny thing – you could love someone so much and then just accept the empty place they left in your life when it was over. Haley didn't even look like she wanted to try and see him, and he knew it wasn't that she didn't care, maybe it was simply that she couldn't. She couldn't afford that anymore, the empty place needed to stay empty. One faulty step and she'd fall right back in, let him fill that space.

“Hotch?” Derek asked cautiously, rapping once on the bedroom door with his knuckles before pushing his way in. At once his sinuses were assaulted with the smell of eucalyptus, camphor and sweat. Aaron was sleeping in the middle of his bed, nothing visible except the iridescent peaks of jet black hair peaking out from within the blankets. “Hotch?” he called again and waited, but the man didn't move. He could see the labored rise and fall of the blankets, knew he was breathing, he could even hear the soft groans that followed inhales, the tiny whimpering sounds every time he swallowed. Frowning, he approached the bed and cupped the peak of Aaron's shoulder with his palm, applying just enough pressure to let him know he was there, not enough to startle him. Watching closely, he saw Aaron's bleary eyes crack open just a sliver, squinting to focus on the face in front of him. His lips moved, tongue flicking out to wet them briefly but no sound came out. He mouthed Morgan's name, only the soft hiss of menthol breath escaped. A cough drop clicked behind his teeth and the soft whimpering sound that followed each swallow seemed to Derek to be entirely involuntary.

“Sorry to barge in, boss,” he said, hand still resting on Aaron's shoulder. He considered removing it but something kept him anchored there. “Haley called, she was supposed to drop Jack off for you this morning. You remember?”

Aaron didn't nod, didn't move, just blinked once sleepily. There was no way he could nod his head, nothing good would come of it. Instead he mouthed 'yes' and just kept squinting until Derek realized he was staring at his mouth.

“Okaaaaaay. You lost your voice?” Playing twenty questions wasn't what he'd anticipated.

Again he mouthed 'yes' and continued staring intently at Derek's lips. “Right. So...can you hear me?” A stab int he dark, the way he watched Derek form every word so carefully.

This time he looked away briefly before letting his eyes slip closed. Like admitting it while looking at Derek would make it that much more painful. 'No' he breathed and he didn't open his eyes again, didn't want to know what Derek was going to say next. To his credit, Derek didn't push, he gave Aaron's shoulder a small reassuring squeeze and stood to leave, to go speak to Haley. Before he left, he heard a soft plea, a hoarse croaking sound and he turned around to find Aaron pointing at his nightstand, at a pile of papers sitting on top. The movement caused the world to spin and he squeezed his eyes shut, freezing in place momentarily, willing it to pass.

“Urgent Care?” he asked, but Aaron didn't answer because he couldn't see Derek's mouth, had no idea what he'd said. Derek pressed his face close to the papers, squinting in the dim light of the room to read the diagnosis, the prescriptions that were sitting unfilled, the treatment recommendation. Turning toward Aaron, he studied the man in the bed and nodded, understanding. “I'll be right back.”

He made his way back out to the living room and explained the situation to Haley who sat dumbfounded before laying into Derek about how reckless they both were. “Double ear infections?!” she exclaimed, shaking her head. “Nearly drowned, burst his eardrum, blown up...what's next? Where does it end with you guys?”

“I know this sucks, but c'mon...you know no one expected any of this.

I doubt he's in there having the time of his life, Haley.”

“You guys never expect any of this. You rush into these dangerous situations and you don't think about what's going to happen to you or who you're leaving behind to pick up the pieces. I can't do this anymore, Morgan. He's going to hear from my lawyer, I can't keep putting Jack through this. He deserves better. We both do.”

The air in the room stifled and Derek sucked in a deep breath, tried to figure out a way through this mess. It wasn't even his mess. This fucking job, he thought bitterly. It was his mantra for the day. He'd never been involved in any other co-worker's lives like he was here and it was wearing him thin. There was nothing he could say to smooth it over, no amount of coffee could buy her smile now. She excused herself, gave Jack a kiss goodbye, and left for work with Derek's promise that he'd take care of Jack for the day. She wasn't happy with it, but she didn't have much choice, it was either trust Derek with her son or call in sick to work and possibly lose her job.

It didn't take him long to get the little guy ready for school in nice clean clothes and walk him down the street, thankful that Jack liked him well enough to accept his intrusion for the time being. They discussed birds and grass and worms, all of the intricate bits of the world that Jack seemed to know inside and out. It had become a beautiful day, enough that he really wished he could just ignore all of his responsibilities and go lay on the lush grass in his backyard and watch Clooney chase the birds and squirrels all day.

Heading back to Aaron's apartment was pretty low on his list of things that sounded fun, yet he found that he was, in fact, putting one foot in front of the other.

Next Chapter ->

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #haley hotchner #jack hotchner #hotchgan #mortch #sick fic #hurt hotch #sick hotch

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soramel · 3 years

Text

Curiosity didn’t kill the cat | jjk ff

[COMPLETE] Part 4

jjkxreader

Prompt: “You’re early,” said the grim reaper with a hint of amusement.

Fantasy au, sageuk au, royalty au, grimreaper!jungkook, reader, romance, slow-burn

Words: 1.9k approx. Part 4/7 Content warning: smut, violence, angst

This is the last part in my Tumblr account. Part 5 to 7 (fin) can be found in my wattpad account

You stayed home the whole morning, staring out the window. You watched the cars passing by the bridge crossing the Han river.

Now you're plopped down on the couch while Jungkook is vacuuming the floor.

"Don't you have work today?" you asked.

Jungkook shook his head in reply. "There's no one on my schedule. I checked."

"Why don't you have a TV here? How do you pass time?" you whined. You might be safer compared to being outside, encountering different souls and human energies, but you thought this kind of boredom could kill too.

You learned last night that you don't tire out like a human does. It's your energy running out, which can be restored by sleep, rest, or eating food offerings for those who passed. However, if you stayed long enough wandering, those wouldn't suffice. Ghosts like Taehyung's assignee and the man in that business district, they feed off from wandering souls like you. Your energy is still of a human because you died in a wrong time, but they could easily get your energy from your form.

Jungkook didn't respond and continued cleaning.

You sighed. You're fully rested, so you can't really go back and sleep the day off.

You jumped at an idea, "How about I visit my funeral?" you didn't really want to. You don't want to see your family and friends being sad because of your passing. Besides, the spirit guide promised you that you could go back to your old life. You just have to wait. And you have a powerful grim reaper protecting you, so you're all good.

He shook his head, and firmly said, "No. It's not safe there. I told you that's a hotspot for starving souls."

"But I have you!" you insisted.

Jungkook turned off the vacuum, placing a hand on his hip, squaring his shoulders. He then said, "Remember when the lady almost got you? What if we encounter five of them? I'm not omnipotent, Y/n. I'd lay my life to protect you, but I don't really die so it's pointless. Once you're out of my grasp, you're on your own."

His warning rendered you speechless. Unconsciously, you huffed in a pout.

Jungkook's expression fell at your reaction, but there's nothing else he could do.

The doorbell rang.

Both of you turned to the sound.

The grim reaper tucked in the vacuum, leaving it to stand, before going to the door.

"Sir Jeon," you heard a wavering man's voice.

"Mr. Choi, what brought you here?" Jungkook queried, his voice tensed. He repeatedly wished for you not to show yourself and he hoped telepathy would work. But of course, your curiosity won. You peeked from the hallway and saw a man in his 30's.

His gaze shifted from Jungkook to yours. His eyes widened in thirst. For a second, the white of his eyes faded.

"Mr. Choi," Jungkook snapped.

The ghost stared back to him, as his eyes went back to normal.

"Sir Jungkook. It's my daughter. She's having a fever and her mother's not yet back from the business trip," the man explained.

"Her nanny didn't show up this morning. She's been alone since last night," he went on, his sweaty hands fidgeting as he asked for help. "Please, help her."

Jungkook stilled for a moment, before responding, "I'm not allowed to make calls in the human world, Mr. Choi. I'm not allowed to interfere on that matter."

Mr. Choi kneeled, pressing his hands together, and begged, "Please, sir. I, I tried to help. I've been trying to possess a human's body but my soul is too weak. I haven't fed for weeks. I couldn't visit a burial without getting killed by a starving ghost. Please, you're all I have."

"Mr. Choi-"

"Her!" he pointed at you.

"She can help."

Mr. Choi looked at you, his eyes pleading.

"Please help my daughter," he asked you directly.

Jungkook backed away from the door, "No," he sternly said. "She's not fit for what you're asking."

The man argued, "She just died! I can feel her energy from here, she could possess anyone easily!"

Then insisted, "Young lady, please. It's not that much. Just bring her to the hospital."

Jungkook stood firm, resolved to kick the man out, "I said no. Go-"

"Jungkook. It's okay. I'll help him," you said to him.

"Y/n," his voice laced with disapproval, while the man bowed repeatedly. "Thank you! Thank you!" he uttered over and over in gratefulness.

When you arrived at the apartment complex, you started looking around for someone to possess. You saw a college student, much like you, walking. Jungkook stopped you before you could take a step.

"Not her. She's not well rested. You'll be stuck in her body if her soul surrendered."

You nodded and tried to look for another. There's another woman, but she's with her child. It seemed like they're waiting for a taxi.

You surveyed the area. There are only cars passing by the highway.

Mr. Choi hesitatingly spoke, "Please hurry, it took me long to get to you,"

He pursed his lips shut when Jungkook sent him a deadly glare.

Clasping your hands together, you decided to go for the woman. You looked at Jungkook for permission, but he's been nothing but adamant.

So, you strolled forward, with much determination.

Upon nearing the lady, you whispered, "I'll be quick, promise," though she couldn't hear you.

You stepped into her shell, her soul resisting. You can feel yours slowly seeping in.

You tightly closed your eyes and soothingly muttered, "I'll be quick. A young girl's alone in the apartment and she's been sick. Please."

You opened your eyes and felt your spirit settled. You stared at the lady's free hand, then you felt a tug.

Her son stared up at you and said, "Mommy, there's the cab," he informed.

You looked at the driver and waved your hand dismissively. You crouched down to the boy's height and held his face.

"Mommy needs to visit a friend's place first. Okay?" you spoke, while trying not to be startled by your new voice.

The boy nodded.

You gave him a reassuring smile which turned to joy when he smiled back. Showing a gap between his teeth.

Holding the boy's hand, you faced Jungkook and Mr. Choi.

Mr. Choi beamed and led the way to his daughter.

You sat beside the hospital bed as you listened to the doctor. "She'll be monitored every four hours. You have nothing to worry about," he smiled at you and to the boy beside you.

"Thank you, doctor. I'll call her mother right away," you informed him.

"Don't mention it. How kind of you to look after your friend's child, Mrs. Kim," he said.

You blinked repeatedly and smiled awkwardly, "Ah, of course."

Then you looked at him as you wait for him to leave.

After an uncomfortable silence, you renewed your smile, "Doc?"

"Ah, yes. Well, then... I have to go. Lots of patients to attend to."

You nodded in reply. You watched him walk away before tripping on his own steps. A chuckle escaped Jungkook's lips, he tried to suppress it to no avail.

By the time you managed to bring the boy and the lady back to their home, the sun was already down. The lamp post flickered as you stepped out of the building. Then a snowflake fell on your nose before it passed through, landing on the pavement.

You reached out your hand to catch the first snow only for it to slip through.

Your lips pulled into a bitter smile. At least, you couldn't feel the cold.

Noticing your feet, you moved forward, one step after another.

If you were alive, the road's roughness would scrunch under your feet, the falling snow crystals would land on your skin then would melt away; if you were alive, you'd see your breath in this unforgivable winter.

It's only been days since, but you couldn't help but become impatient. More than a week of waiting would feel like a year.

"You okay?" Jungkook asked as he walked beside you.

Turning to him, you said, "Could be better,"

He nodded. "Let's find a door,"

You touched his arm to stop him, you feel like walking. At least that way, you'd be able to feel the first snow with your eyes.

"Can we walk instead?" you asked.

He frowned and answered, "You look tired. You almost spent a day in someone's body. It should've drained you. I'd need to ask Yoongi or Taehyung to bring us food."

Taking off your hand from him, you tried your best to hide your disappointment. "Just 5 minutes," you bargained. He paused to think, assessing the situation. Afterwards, he agreed.

"Thanks."

You walked forward, watching the sky. The orange light from the posts sparkled against the falling flakes. You basked in the simple beauty you failed to appreciate.

The glitters on the pavement

The rustling of the road as a car passed by

The ding of the bicycle dashing through, towards you

You stood frozen in shock as the biker permeated. It felt like the gravity engulfed you out of your soul, if that's still possible. You're left with nothing now, this is your form at your purest state.

You wobbled and before hitting the ground, Jungkook pulled you by the elbow. Your chest flushed against his as you looked at his face. His features etched with worry.

It felt familiar.

his hold

his arms,

his eyes,

this scene,

the weather.

Everything.

A déjà vu.

Jungkook felt it too. That was evident on how his concerned frown softened into a gaze of longing and admiration.

He couldn't put a name on his emotions, but it felt unstoppable.

It felt right to close the distance between you.

It felt right to rest his palm against your crimson-painted cheeks.

It felt right to acknowledge the pull.

Your eyes shuttered close as his lips met yours.

Everything felt familiar.

You both knew.

And as if the spell that bound you worn out, you pulled apart from each other. Averting each other's eyes.

Jungkook broke the silence by clearing his throat. He then muttered, "Let's go home. You're tired."

After a while, he found a door by the sidewalk. He jerked it to see if it's open and after confirming, he shut it close again.

He laid his hand out to you, at which you took without protest.

Then you were now in his apartment's hallway.

The rest of the night were spent in silence as he retreated to his room.

"Taehyung brought this for you," Jungkook blurted as he saw you stirring awake.

The space was lit by the morning light and clanking of plates rung through as the two grim reapers prepare on the dining table.

"I heard you had a rough day. I wish I could've brought food earlier, but I had a graveyard shift," Taehyung explained in a sad face.

You waved your hand dismissively, "It's fine. No worries. I just slept it off."

Taehyung's face lit up, he looked at you, smiling, "I got porridge. They put shrimps and eggs on it. First class."

"I also got tangerines. Though we must save two handfuls for Yoongi-hyung. He's on his way here."

The main door banged open at once, startling you.

"Oops, sorry 'bout that. Hi Y/n," Yoongi greeted.

Jungkook placed the last plate on the table before looking up at the eldest, "Yoongi-hyung, come eat with us."

[Part 5 to 7]

#bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #jjk fanfic #jkxreader #jjk #jungkook fantasy au #jjk x reader

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the-quiet-winds · 3 years

Text

The Gravity of Tempered Grace (part seven)

[part one] - [part two] - [part three] - [part four] - [part five] - [part six]

[Part 7: On the Weeds That Looked Like Daisies]

The Life and Times of Jane the Queen, Chapter 15 - The Issue of Royalty

“Jane had been in confinement at Henry’s request starting in September of 1537, her only company being the physicians and her ladies in waiting. She went into labor sometime in the evening hours of October 9th, 1537. The labor was long and painful for Jane, lasting for an additional three nights and two days as the baby was not well-positioned. Finally, at around two in the morning on October 12th, Crown Prince Edward VI was born, and Jane was elated. She had a child, her child, and it was a son. Her son would be the king of England one day, and she knew Henry would be just as excited as she.

With this son, Jane had power and security. She would be able to do or ask for anything, and Henry wouldn’t say no. She had done what Henry had been waiting for for years, and now he was indebted to her.”

“Henry, please, you don’t want to do this.”

He just grins, truly sadistically. “Of course I don’t want to, but you leave me no choice.”

Catherine steps forward. “He would never do it,” she says courageously, hoping to call his bluff. “He loves her too-”

She’s stopped rather abruptly by Jane crying out in pain and falling to her knees, clutching at her chest, as Henry squeezes the heart in his hands.

Kat and Anne drop to her side, trying to comfort her as she winces and grimaces and tries to breathe, while Cathy has to hold Anna back so she doesn’t strangle the former king.

With a laugh, he slackens his grip, and Jane gasps for air.

The whole thing feels quite surreal to Catherine, looking on as a bystander as her once-husband all but tortures her closest friend.

She suddenly feels incredibly lightheaded, all the insanity of the last few hours catching up to her at once, and she wants to throw up and pass out at the same time.

Steeling herself as much as she can, Catherine fixes Henry with a dagger-filled glare. “I don’t know what sick, twisted game you’re playing here, but you need to cut it out. This is Jane’s life we’re talking about.”

“Oh, Catherine,” he simpers, “still thinking you’re so brave and strong. But without this,” he holds Jane’s heart out tauntingly, “you’ll just lose. And this time, there is no second chance. Just death.”

Catherine knows she pales at that.

“You all are just going to have to watch while I kill her,” he concludes softly.

Suddenly and without warning, Kat lunges at him. Even if you were to ask her, she probably wouldn’t be able to tell you if she was grabbing at the heart or just trying to get him, but he overpowers her easily.

He shoves her to the ground, and is immediately attacked by a small, incredibly angry Anne Boleyn.

“Hands off my cousin!” She all by shrieks, throwing herself at Henry just as Kat had done.

And again, just like Kat, she is easily deflected and sent down to the ground.

“This is fun,” Henry chuckles. “I have to say that I really do enjoy this.”

It’s a twisted sort of standoff, except Henry holds all of the power. He has Jane’s heart, and as long as he has it, he’s in charge.

No one can risk what he would do with it if they were to try something all together.

Kat and Anne stumble to their feet, and it’s Jane, surprisingly, who steps out in front. “Henry, please, let’s stop this.”

“Don’t come closer,” he warns, and Jane’s feet root to the floor.

“Look, Henry, please, we don’t need to do this,” Jane says softly, patiently. For a moment, it’s almost as if they’re back in Hampton Court, just the two of them. “We can go anywhere, do anything you want to do. It’s all up to you.”

“Jane,” Catherine says, “what are you-”

“You were right,” Jane continues, as if Catherine never even spoke. “You’re the only one who loves me. Why don’t we leave?”

Henry looks taken aback. “Is this a trick?”

“No trick. Just you and me. Isn’t that what you wanted in the first place?”

“O-of course, but-”

“Then what are you waiting for? We can go right now. Leave all of this behind.” Testing her footing, Jane manages a step forward, taking Henry’s free hand in both of hers. “We can go have a life together. We can have children, we can live the life we never had.”

Henry looks beyond Jane’s shoulders to the other former queens, all in various states of shock and betrayal. “What about them?”

“Who cares?” Jane asks. “We have each other, isn’t that what matters here? Just give me my heart and-”

“No,” Henry says immediately, pulling back. “No, this is all just a play for the heart, and you won’t get it.”

“It isn’t,” Jane tries to soothe him. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you. But what kind of life would that be if I didn’t have my heart? I wouldn’t be able to really, truly love you or our children. How is that fair?”

He contemplates this, and Jane takes his hand again. “You spent all that time telling me how proud you were of me, how you just wanted to help. Haven’t I earned your trust at this point?”

After an agonizingly long pause, he gives the tiniest nod of his head. “If this is a trick, so help me God I will-”

“It isn’t a trick,” Jane says quickly, trying to abate his nerves. “Please, just trust me.”

Henry takes Jane by the shoulder and, in one fluid movement, plunges her heart back into her chest.

Time, in the most impossible way, seems to freeze.

Then Jane gives a slight cry of pain and then a great gasp, like she had spent all this time underwater and just finally come up for air.

No one is quite sure what to expect, now that Jane is suddenly feeling all the things she’s been unable to feel since they were brought back to walk this ground again.

She looks back to the queens, and for a moment, they think maybe she did double-cross Henry, maybe it was just a ploy.

But she smirks, turns back to Henry, and throws her arms around him.

He returns the embrace immediately, and Jane can feel the chuckle low in his stomach.

“I can’t believe you didn’t trust me,” Jane says, pulling back from Henry slightly. “Did you really think I’d rather stay here with them than go be with you?”

“I guess I owe you an apology.” Henry kisses her cheek. “Shall we go?”

“Just let me go gather my things, then I’ll be back down.”

She hurries up the stairs after that, and Henry is left with the dumbfounded faces of the five other queens.

“What the fuck?” Kat whispers.

“There’s no way,” Cathy says. “There’s… there’s just no way.”

“Looks like old Janey is a more faithful wife than any of you bitches,” Henry laughs. He sobers immediately after, falsifying concern. “What about your little show? Will you replace Jane, just like I told her you all would?”

“You sick fuck,” Anne hisses. “You did this!”

Henry holds up his hands. “She has her heart back. This is all of her own volition. She chose me.”

“She wouldn’t have,” Catherine says faintly, more trying to convince herself than anyone else. “She wouldn’t just… abandon us like that.”

As if summoned, Jane slips back into the room, a duffle bag slung over her shoulder.

“Shall we?” Henry asks, offering his lady his arm.

Jane looks at the girls one last time, some of them on the verge of tears, and she looks impossibly indifferent.

She takes Henry’s arm. “We shall.”

“Jane, please,” Anna suddenly blurts out. “Don’t leave. We need you. We love you, Jane, for real.”

“Don’t lie,” Jane says coldly. “You just know that without me, you don’t have the complete set, which means you don’t have the show. Well guess what, we all have to move on eventually.”

“Is this really what you want?”

It’s Cathy now, sounding younger and more fragile than any of the girls had heard her be before. “Do you really want to go with him, despite everything?”

Jane meets Cathy’s eyes. “This is the best thing I can do.”

Before any follow-up questions can be asked, Jane pulls Henry out the door and into the night.

She doesn’t even have the decency to say goodbye.

#six the musical #six the musical fanfiction #jane seymour #catherine of aragon #catherine parr #katherine howard #anne boleyn #anne of cleves #julie writes #the gravity of tempered grace

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starryknight09 · 3 years

Text

No rest for the weary

Febuwhump Day 6: insomnia

Read on AO3.

________________________________________________________

Peter closed his eyes. Opened them. Closed them again. Scrunched them as tightly shut as he could, hoping it would send a signal to his brain to let him to sleep. Because he was desperate to sleep. To shut his brain off. So he could stop reliving what had happened a few days ago. Or what had almost happened...

His eyes snapped open again. Shit. Don’t think about it. Think about anything else. Think about…Ned. Ok that was good. A neutral thought. His best friend. Who he hasn’t seen since he almost… Dammit. That hadn’t even worked for a few seconds.

He stared at the darkened ceiling, having it practically memorized by now. He didn’t understand how he could be exhausted down to his very marrow, yet still be wide awake as if he’d drank ten Monster energy drinks, which he definitely hadn’t.

The rabbiting of his heart in his chest annoyed him almost as much as the blank ceiling. Screw it. There was no way he was going to be able to fall asleep. He kicked the covers off with a silent growl and padded out of his room, down the hallway, and downstairs to the couch in the cabin’s living room.

Ever since ‘the incident’, Tony had wanted to keep him close, and since it was summer break, it hadn’t been a problem, and May hadn’t minded because neither of them had actually told her about ‘the incident’ since Peter hadn’t wanted to freak her out after the fact. Tony hadn’t loved it, but he’d caved after Peter had wielded his most pitiful puppy eyes on him. Peter sighed. And to be honest, being in close proximity to Tony was probably the only reason he hadn’t completely lost it yet. As cliché as it was, Tony made him feel safe. And that was the one thing he needed more than anything after he’d almost…

Peter shook his head roughly as if he could dislodge the unwanted thoughts. Last night he’d spent the entire night tossing and turning and staring at the ceiling, and he knew if had to repeat that, he might have a breakdown. He clicked the TV on and tried to distract his brain with mindless television instead. The burning of his eyes was hard to ignore, so he rubbed at them and slumped further into the couch.

He didn’t understand why this was bothering him so much. Coming back from being dusted hadn’t caused nights of insomnia. And when that had happened, he’d actually died. This time he’d just…almost died. During a fight with a new weird green goblin guy, Peter had been too close when one of his bombs had gone off, and the blast had thrown him off the bridge and into the Hudson river. While he fell, he hadn’t even been scared. He’d figured he’d hit the water, then swim back to surface and web back up to the bridge to continue the fight. He’d hit the water hard just like he’d predicted, but then things had gone all wrong. He closed his eyes as he remembered.

Peter sunk faster than he’d thought he would. He tried to swim but kept getting struck by debris, the chunks of concrete and steel from the bridge pushing him back down. Before he knew it, he hit the bottom of the river and all the debris rained down around him. And on him. When he tried to push off the riverbed to start swimming back to the surface, his chest rose but he couldn’t free his bottom half. He was pinned. He tried pushing the debris off, but he couldn’t get enough leverage in his position with the decreased gravity underwater. Shit shit shit.

Oh god. This was bad. He was going to die. This wasn’t how he wanted it to end. He’d managed to take a deep breath before he’d slammed into the river but he could feel it wouldn’t last much longer. Air hunger was starting to set in. His hands sank into the muddy river floor and he tried to propel backward to yank his legs out from under the mass of concrete but he still couldn’t get the leverage he needed for it to work. Ideas flew through his brain, trying to come up with a solution to his predicament, but he couldn’t think of anything that would work. He was stuck. At the bottom of the river. And he really needed to breathe. He was going to drown. This wasn’t how Spiderman was supposed to die. Not after everything he’d survived.

He desperately thrashed, reason having fled as panic set in, but he didn’t gain so much as an inch of freedom. His chest burned and it took every ounce of willpower not to breathe. It didn’t matter that his mind knew that giving in to the instinct wouldn’t help, his body still pleaded for it. He’d read somewhere that drowning was supposed to be a good way to die. Peaceful. But that didn’t seem to be the case for him. His heart thudded with desperate fear.

And then in the midst of everything, he saw a blue light below two smaller yellow lights floating towards him. Maybe this was it. The beginning of the end as the lack of oxygen caused him to hallucinate. If his brain hadn’t been deprived of oxygen and he’d been more with it, he probably would’ve recognized what they meant right away, but it wasn’t until Ironman landed at his side that it dawned on him that Tony had come to save him.

Tony grabbed under his armpits and pulled. But Peter didn’t budge. No! He was still stuck. He was still going to die. He needed to breathe. Tony abandoned that approach and switched positions, trying to lift the concrete off of him instead. With the appropriate leverage, which Peter couldn’t get with the way he was stuck, Tony managed to lift it a couple inches. It wasn’t much, but it was enough. Bubbles erupted from his mouth as Peter used the last of his strength to pry his lower body out. He was free! But he couldn’t hold his breath anymore. Not after he’d exhaled. His body demanded he complete the process and inhale, and he could hold it back any longer. He breathed in.

His lungs spasmed. The water shredded his chest like knives. He didn’t even notice Tony had grabbed him until they breached the surface and he could finally suck in air. The air competed with the water already taking up residence in his lungs, so he coughed and heaved, practically spasming in Ironman’s grip, but Tony didn’t drop him.

They landed on a nearby rooftop and Peter fell to all fours, tearing off his mask before gagging and throwing up an abundance of dirty river water onto the concrete.

“You’re all right kid. You’re all right. Just breathe. Breathe.” Tony said with a hand on his back in support.

He was trying to, but it hurt. His chest felt like he’d gotten hit by a truck, and it wasn’t an exaggeration because he knew exactly what that felt like.

“Oh my god.” He gasped out as soon as he had enough breath to speak. “Oh my god.”

He hacked up another bout of disgusting water.

“I almost just drowned.” He croaked through his tattered throat.

“You kind of did a little bit.” Tony said, rubbing his back.

“Oh my god. I almost just died.” It seemed to be the only thing he could say. Or think.

“You’re ok.” Tony tried to reassure him. “You’re fine.”

Thank god Tony had come, even though he was supposed to be retired or whatever, or Peter would’ve been toast.

“How did you—” His question got interrupted by another coughing fit.

Tony didn’t need to hear the rest of the words to know what Peter had been trying to ask. “Karen sent an emergency alert to me. Thank god I was in the city today. I don’t know if I would’ve made it in time from the cabin.”

Peter nodded. He tried not to dwell on it, but holy shit, if Tony hadn’t happened to be nearby, he’d probably be dead right now. Floating at the bottom of the river, still trapped under all that debris. He took in a few short gasps and straightened up, feeling like he couldn’t catch his breath, and not knowing if it was from all the water he’d inhaled or his panic. His hands shook where they rested on his thighs. Ok good. Probably just panic then. He tried to slow down his breathing but it wasn’t working. He felt sick. And lightheaded.

“I don’t feel so good.” He muttered.

“Jesus kid.” Tony said and Peter heard the man’s heart skip. It took him a couple long seconds to figure out why.

“Sorry.” He apologized.

“No. It’s…ok. Let’s just get you to Cho.” Tony squeezed his shoulder. “Make sure your dip in that nasty water isn’t going to have any side effects. Do have any idea how dirty that river is? We don’t want you catching pneumonia or growing a third ear or something.”

He coughed again and nodded, still feeling short of breath and not up for talking anymore unless he had to. Tony helped him put his mask back on and Peter clung to him as they blasted off toward the compound.

Peter opened his eyes and blinked a few times, trying to extract himself from the memory and root his mind back in reality. The TV droned on softly in the background, but Peter didn’t even register the show he’d settled on. Remembering the whole event had left him feeling weak and shaky. He raised his hands to his face. Fine tremors ran through them. That had been happening on and off the past few days too, along with the inability to sleep. He clasped them into tight fists and tried to will the shaking to stop.

“Kid?” He jumped at the noise, annoyed that he hadn’t noticed Tony’s approach.

“Yeah?” His voice came out as shaky as his hands. He crossed his arms over his chest, hoping Tony wouldn’t notice.

“Can’t sleep?”

Peter shook his head and watched as Tony approached and plopped down on the couch next to him.

“You seemed tired today.” Of course Tony had noticed. “I don’t think this is your first bad night.”

He shrugged, not wanting to lie but not wanting to give Tony what he was looking for either.

“Bad dreams?”

He shook his head, looking down at his lap.

“Just can’t sleep?”

He shrugged again.

“I’m not surprised. It’s been a rough week.” Tony said, no judgement in his tone. “Want to talk about it?”

“Not really.”

Tony hummed but didn’t push, and even though a second ago he really hadn’t wanted to talk about it, now in the face of Tony’s patience, he almost wanted to talk about it. He played with a loose string on the sleeve of his sweatshirt, considering.

“I just—” He paused, wrapped the string around his finger, unwrapped it, tugged on it. He didn’t know how to explain without sounding like a baby.

“You just…” Tony prompted gently after several long seconds of silence.

“I don’t even know why this is bothering me so much. I mean, I got dusted, and sure, that sucked, but I never couldn’t sleep because it.” Peter chanced a glance at Tony’s face and saw only patient openness there with maybe a hint of sadness.

“But this… I just can’t stop thinking about it. Every time I close my eyes I’m back at the bottom of that river, afraid I’m about to drown. It’s making it impossible to sleep.” He rubbed at his eyes.

“You’ve lived through more scary stuff than most people experience in their entire lives,” Tony said softly, “and you’re not even eighteen yet. It makes sense that this might’ve been what finally tipped the scales. Trauma can be like that. You subconsciously deal with one thing and then another and then another until it builds up so much that when the next thing comes along, you finally can’t deal with it anymore and it breaks free.”

Peter frowned and considered that explanation. It made sense.

“I survived Afghanistan.” Tony said, and Peter stiffened. In all the time Peter had known Tony, he’d never spoken about Afghanistan. He’d barely even alluded to it. “And I came back and tried to shrug it off. Threw myself into creating Ironman. And you know what?”

“What?” He whispered, as if talking too loudly might spook Tony and keep him from continuing.

Tony gave him a wry smile, “It worked. I moved on. Or I thought I did. And then later, the arc reactor was poisoning me, and I thought I was going to die—”

“What?” Peter interrupted, surprise making the question louder this time. He’d never heard that story before and it didn’t sound good.

“It’s not important.” Tony waved away the concern. “I figured it out. Fixed it and obviously didn’t die. But that’s not the point. I had been dying, but once I wasn’t anymore, I shrugged the whole thing off and tried to put it behind me. And again, it worked. Just like the time before.”

Peter nodded to show he was listening but made a mental note to ask more about the whole almost dying thing at some point in the future.

“And then Loki came along, and the Avengers came together, and the whole battle at New York happened. And I flew a nuke into space.” Tony paused to sigh and run a hand through his hair. “And I thought that was it. I was going to die for sure. Not a bad way to go, saving the world…” Tony paused, and Peter knew they were both thinking of the same thing. Steve on his knees snapping the gauntlet and dusting Thanos and his army but sacrificing himself in the process.

“But I really wanted to live.” Tony continued after a beat. “I didn’t want to leave Pepper.” Tony gave him a watery smile and Peter waited with bated breath for him to continue.

“But as we both know, I didn’t die. And I thought…great. Now this was just another thing I needed to shake off. Easy peasy. And then I’d be able to get on with everything. Like I always had.” Tony shook his head. “Except it didn’t work that time. I couldn’t close my eyes without reliving that moment. I couldn’t even look at the stars. Everything seemed to be a trigger. I threw myself into my work and tried to keep ignoring it. But I couldn’t. I started having panic attacks. It was bad kid.”

Peter had a feeling his eyes were the size of saucers, so he tried to reign in his expression. Tony had never bared his soul to him like this before and he didn’t quite know how to react.

Tony let out a long sigh, looking almost pained. “I guess what I’m trying to say, and maybe I’m doing a bad job of it, is that I’d managed to stuff all these previous experiences away, some pretty traumatic stuff, but then I just couldn’t anymore. Flying a nuke into space was my tipping point. And I think almost drowning in the Hudson this week was your tipping point.”

Huh. Peter blinked. Tony might be right. He nodded and gave him an appreciative half smile. Hearing his hero, a man he respected and viewed as a pseudo father, voice his traumas and weaknesses, made all the shame he’d felt before evaporate.

“So what do I do?” He asked.

“First, we need to get your mind off of it so you can get some sleep.” Tony said as if it were just that simple.

“I can’t.” He complained.

“Yes you can. Trust me.” Tony grabbed the remote and put Star Wars on.

“That’s a good idea, but I don’t think it’s going to work.” Peter huffed out a laugh.

“I’m not done yet.” Tony said, taking a throw pillow from behind him and placing it in his lap. “There.”

Peter’s brow furrowed in confusion.

Tony arched an eyebrow at him and patted the pillow invitingly. “Come on kid. Nap time.”

Peter’s cheeks heated but he didn’t protest. He sighed heavily as if complying was a big inconvenience, but it was all for show. And Tony probably knew it too. He laid his head on the pillow and willed himself to relax. Ever since the snap, Tony had been more physically demonstrative and affectionate toward him, treating him like his own kid, but never quite to this degree. Tony grabbed the blanket over the back of the couch and tossed it over him. Peter figured that’d be it, but then the man’s fingers brushed through his hair, toying with the strands.

Peter hummed, eyes closing.

“This always works for Morgan.” Tony said, voice soft, but with obvious amusement.

Peter twisted his head to glare up at him and Tony chuckled. “You’re about as intimidating as a bunny rabbit.”

Peter scoffed. He was not. If he really wanted to, he could be intimidating. He just wasn’t trying that hard.

“Watch your movie.” Tony said with a gentle tug on his strands.

Peter sighed but listened, turning back to watch the Rebels fight Darth Vader while R2D2 and C3PO escaped. He still didn’t think there was any way he’d be able to fall asleep no matter how heavy his eyelids felt.

Turned out he was wrong. Tony’s fingers running loosely through his locks was like his kryptonite.

He faded off into dreamland before Obi-Wan made his appearance.

#febuwhump2021 #febuwhump #irondad

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deathonyourtongue · 3 years

Text

Resurrection | 12

Summary: A ragtag team of Spec-Ops operators are brought out of retirement for all the wrong reasons. When the dust settles, only the best will be left standing. Pairing: Pablo Schreiber x OFC, Henry Cavill x OFC (listen, she gets with the whole team, okay? Don’t lie, you would too.) Word Count: 2K Warnings: Nothing much really. A/N: Sorry this took so long. February really is the worst month.

By the flight manifest, we’re half an hour behind Wallace, and I feel every minute of it on the plane ride from London to Benghazi. Prior to joining the team, I’d only been assigned to Libya once and it was from the comfort of the Whitney parked off the coast of Italy. This will be my first time with boots on the ground, and the history of spec ops in the country isn’t lost to me; it’s just one more reason why I’m glad I no longer have to wear a uniform.

“Ten minutes out,” the pilot calls over the comms, everyone prepping their go bags, ready to make up for any head start Wallace has.

Benina International Airport barely registers in my mind as we pick up two vehicles that were prepped for us courtesy of Uncle Sam, my mind’s sole focus being on saving the hostage and capturing Wallace. All of us want our pound of flesh, none more so than those he’s directly injured over the course of the last few weeks.

“I need everyone on their A game. We can’t afford to let him slip through our fingers again. His behavior is escalating and since he’s so well-connected to the who’s-who, it stands to reason, he’s going to throw everything he has at us. Above all else though, we leave no one behind. Understood?” Rick’s voice is firm but warm over our comms, making it clear that despite the gravity of the situation, he cares about our well-being first and foremost.

“Do you think he’s trying to do a shot-for-shot remake?” Jake asks as we roll into Benghazi proper, grateful for the tinted windows on the late model G wagons no doubt left over from Gaddafi’s rule.

“If you mean do I think he’s going to go to the same village we were patrolling? No. I don’t think he’s that sentimental about things. I think he’s going to pick a spot that’s overlooked by the country and blow it to high hell after he finishes reenacting his sick fantasies. Remember, had we not stopped him that night--”

“I know, he’d have committed war crimes,” Jake cuts Dom off, his sickened expression making it clear that he doesn’t need to be reminded.

“Has intel found him yet?” I ask, hoping we don’t have to waste any more time in tracking him down.

“They don’t have a lock yet, but they are tracking a BMW that came out of Benina half an hour ago. Reports of a blond woman without a hijab and a red-haired man poured in the second they landed.” Rick explains, all of us shaking our head.

“Muslim majority country and she already sticks out like a sore thumb by being blond, but he didn’t bother to make her wear a hijab? If we don’t get to him, the Libyan police will,” I snort, finding little humor in the recklessness with which Wallace treats the lives of others. Like any good narcissist, he cares only for himself and if others get hurt in the process of him getting what he wants, so be it.

“They’re going to attract attention no matter what. All of us are. Keep as low a profile as possible, and with any luck, we’ll be out of here by this time tomorrow,” Rick adds, all of us hoping for the outcome that’s eluded us since we reunited.

Our hideout in Benghazi is simple, yet beautiful. Like most places, it’s heavily fortified, a solid metal gate closing behind us and men standing watch on all four corners as we make our way towards something that resembles a Roman villa of old. Outside, the heat hits me and for a second, I’m brought back to the op that nearly took my life, hoping that this time, things will end differently, at least for our team. Max’s cologne brings me back to the present, and I fall in step with him as we make our way into the blissfully cool war room.

“Oh fuck yeah. Don’t mind if I do!” Jake enthuses as he takes note of the tea and finger foods laid out on the table. Shaking my head, but nonetheless pleased, I take a seat and let out a breath I don’t realize I’ve been holding. Max’s hand smooths over my hair as he sits next to me, his gaze still eyeing my bruise with concern. It’s endearing to say the least, and not the kind of treatment I’m used to in any part of my life.

“Okay, fuel up, but pay attention. Intel has an eye in the sky and they’ve found the BMW. We’re tracking him now. Gonna let him get settled in, then we’ll pay him a house call. He’s also traveling light; only two body men and paid local team which means--”

“Which means a bunch of teenage human shields. Fucking great,” I mutter.

Stephanie Pierce had been dumped half an hour before getting to the airport. Doing her best to save face, she’d made it through security and was intent on getting a little drunk before boarding, if only so she could sleep on the flight. American by birth, she had come to London for school, and had, up until the breakup, been having the time of her life.

Now it's all spiraling into a nightmare.

“Please, just let me get back to the airport! I don’t have anything to do with this! I didn’t do anything! I’m just a student! Please!”

“I can’t do that, darling. For one, you’ve seen my face, and two...Well, you’re my insurance policy. You see, the people that I’m after, they have a soft spot for those they consider innocent. Problem is, no one’s ever truly innocent, are they? No, not even you, dear Stephanie. It only took a few moments for me to do the numbers, so to speak. Young, parents are middle class at best, no real money for school, especially abroad, but here you are in designer clothing, taking vacations whenever it strikes your fancy, and not a dime in debt. Do your parents know what you do on the internet, my darling? Didn’t think so. No, that deep, dark secret won’t be revealed until after you perish, which...will be soon, I’m afraid.”

Her screams make her captor laugh, almost as though he’s delighted by the reaction. It chills her to the bone. Now she understands that this isn’t some wannabe who hijacked a plane and has no real plan; far from it. Whoever he is, he has calculated each and every move leading up to this point.

She wishes she could talk to her mom one last time.

“Night Train to Alpha, confirm visual.”

“Alpha to Night Train we have visual. We count 12 signatures, including the hostage. You are a go.”

We’re no stranger to David and Goliath fights, and 12 is on the smaller side of some of the groups we’ve taken on, but no matter the number, we approach this one with extra precaution, only because of Wallace’s M.O. None of us are looking to be anywhere near another one of his bombs.

The compound he’s made his hideout is run of the mill for this part of the world. Like our own, Wallace’s has high walls, a sturdy gate, and a simple floor plan. It leaves us with two options; come in with a bang, or creep in with a whisper.

“There’s two gates,” I remind the boys, knowing full well that while they all prefer coming in with as much firepower as possible, it opens the door for Wallace to get away in the commotion, and I, for one, want to end this once and for all.

“Alpha, how many signatures on the exterior?” Dom asks, all of us hidden in the shadows, waiting for the deciding factor on how we proceed.

“Looks like 2 on the south side, patrolling the far gate. If you’re going in quiet, now’s the time to move.”

We all nod and immediately get to work. Strapping on my gloves, I grab my wire cutters out of the pocket on my kevlar, and wait until Flip has gotten into position. The tallest of the team, he bends over, providing me with the flat of his back to stand on so that I can cut the razor wire off the top of the wall. Carefully, I peek over the edge, relieved when I find the courtyard empty. Though there are lights on in the compound, every window is covered with an opaque blind, making this way of entering far better suited to our needs.

I cut enough wire away to allow all the boys to climb over, making sure to throw it away from the compound not only for safety, but to reduce the chances of us being heard. Satisfied that everyone has clearance, I pocket my multitool and quickly hop over, landing softly in the dirt.

Rick and Benji are quick to follow, the three of us taking up post so that the rest of the guys can come in safely. It takes less than five minutes for all of us to breach the perimeter, and after a moment to regroup, we move towards our target.

“Alpha, we need your eyes,” Rick whispers, taking point as we position ourselves flush against the nearest wall of the compound. We could clear the place blind, but that increases the chance that someone will sound the alarm as they die, and we can’t take the risk. Though they said they had to wash their hands of it, after Rome, the DOD extended their resources; while they can’t send those currently serving, they can provide a helping hand to those who are willing to risk it all to capture one of our own.

“Two at 3 o’clock, in the first room. There’s two at the back gate you’ll want to handle first.”

Nodding at one another, we split up. Rick and Dom position themselves at the first room, Flip and Benji take up post across the villa in front of another room, while Max, Jake and I edge around to the back of the compound, intent on taking out the two men guarding the rear gate as silently as possible.

With Jake on one side, Max and I move around to the other side, all of us needing to get eyes on the men. As I predicted, they’re young, but I find cold solace when I see that they’re not teenagers, bought out to act as human shields. Checking my gun, I make sure the silencer is on tightly before leveling it into place to look through my scope. At less than 50 feet, it’s an easy shot; it just has to be timed correctly. Max counts us down using only his fingers, and when the time is right, both Jake and I take double-tap shots, killing the men before they have a chance to make a sound.

Over comms, I can hear Rick and Dom breaching their first room, and as we move back towards the center of the villa, Benji and Flip do the same. My relief grows with every room that’s cleared, the body count growing as we approach the spot where Wallace is holed up with the hostage.

“Last room has the prize. Good luck, and godspeed.”

The room in question lies at the heart of the villa. Protected on either side by anti-rooms, We have to work our way through two more sets of men before finally being able to come face-to-face with Wallace once again.

A bright smile is the last thing we expect when we finally level our guns to his head.

“Nice of you all to finally join me. Thought it would take much less time for Uncle Sam to track me down. No matter, you’re here now, we can get to it. In your haste, I’m afraid none of you noticed...” Wallace’s gaze goes to the floor, and as my own eyes follow, I can’t help but feel my heart sink. My eyes dart quickly to Max and Dom, nausea overcoming me as I find that every single one of us has stepped on a trip wire.

“It’s like Russian Roulette, except I’m the one holding the gun.”

Wallace’s laugh will be imprinted in my mind for the rest of my life.

#henry cavill #pablo schreiber #henry cavill x ofc #pablo schreiber x ofc #resurrection #deathonyourtongueoriginals

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