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aliveinacoffin · 11 months

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Miguel O'Hara fluff

A spider-reader has the fattest crush on Miguels fat ass.

And maybe he does too.

Have a crush on your ass, not his.

Also more than likely ooc but we both know if you're here you don't mind. (I'm so sorry)

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"I do not!" You huffed out, throwing your arms up.

"Oh come on, literally everyone here has noticed your thing for Miguel." Jess laughed, setting her hip on the table while she looked through her watch.

"Even if I do, he one hundred percent doesn't feel the same." You sighed, setting your feet down from the metal table. Your spider eyes wide and to the sky, your mask hid the deep frown you had.

Jess looked up to you, and even though she couldn't see your face, she could tell that you were upset. You didn't bounce back to your usual positivity and silliness, instead replaced by silence.

"I didn't mean anything by it, I'm just teasing you." She rubbed your shoulder affectionately.

"I know, thanks mom." You brushed her hand away, chuckling airily. Getting up you leaned over the table to oversee all the science-y papers that had accrued.

"On the tone of mom...."

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"It's so cute! Jess is really excited to have a baby. I just wished she hadn't told me her and her husband have been trying for awhile." You said.

"Good for her! I'll have to ask her more about it later." Sun spider, or Charlotte as you've come to know her, said. She already had been jotting everything down in her notebook for the Spider-Weekly, a weekly magazine made for the spiders in the verse, by the other spiders.

It wouldn't make front page, maybe somewhere in the drama section.

"Yeah, she's really excited to be a mom." You had your back turned, your attention focused solely on following the recipe to make more web. You didn't notice the door open to the private lab, or Sun-Spider panicking to do something 'important.'

"Whose excited to be a mother?" A deep voice growled out, commanding in the way the question was asked.

"Jess! Haven't you-" You turned around, the smirk you wore dropped when you saw him.

Miguel.

Miguel O'Hara, or Spiderman 2099 stood towering over you, serious face and a deadly look in his eyes.

He was always so deadpanned, Miguel always wanted spiders to focus on missions and missions only. He never liked gossip, and any time you came in to spill the tea, he did everything in his power to ignore you. Which is why recently you had to go to new avenues, like Sun-spider. It wasn't like she wasn't your friend, you two just weren't that close.

"Uhhh, Jeeeeess???" You winced out. You weren't really I'm the mood to get scolded at, especially not with company. But leaning over, you saw that Sun had abandoned you.

Miguel's eyebrows went up a fraction, such a fast and small movement that if you hadn't been staring at him you wouldn't have noticed.

"I wasn't aware of that." He simply stated, looking over to see what you were doing. He called out your name, quickly taking the vials you were holding.

"Hey! I was working on that." You leaned over to see what he was doing, encroaching on his personal space, his weird hologram suit fizzing gently against your felt one.

"Well, you were doing it wrong, mensa." Miguel said, annoyed. So annoyed that he had to help you doing such a simple task.

"Hey! I may be a no sabo kid, but I know what that means, pendejo." You huffed out, you watched him quickly mix together a variety of liquids and chemicals. Quickly transferring and stirring each step of the way.

"Of course you'd know all the curse words." His brown eyes met yours, a bored look on his face.

"I do not! I know like, simple shit. Yo comprendo un pocito tambíen, cara de caca." You cackled, turning around to hang up your lab coat.

You missed the way he hung his head and smiled, holding back a silent chuckle.

"¿Sí? Veo que eres bilingüe." Miguel straighted his hunched over form, looking to you over his shoulder.

You stared at him, slowly piecing together what he said. "Hey kiss my ass!" You threw a random manilla folder at him.

He caught it before anything could spill out, surprisingly fast for a man with no spidey senses.

"I'd rather not."

You rolled your eyes at his serious response, and came over back to the table. "Thanks! Though, could've totally done this myself." You shrugged, putting out an overconfident personality.

"Yeah, that's why it wasn't on the verge of exploding. How you managed that is beyond me." Miguel shook his head, rolling his eyes. Watching you refil your web slinger.

Silence filled the room while you completed the simple task, the air tense.

"You haven't come to me in a while. I thought you went AWOL." He said, simple words you were waiting for him to utter.

"W-well. I've been turning in my reports on time. Just as long and descriptive as always." You shrugged, not meeting his intense gaze.

"That's not what I meant."

He meant the fact that you hadn't come to his office to complain the the printer wasn't working, or that the morning was horrid as always, or the drama in the office.

The truth? You started to look forward to speaking to him, seeking it to quell the loneliness that was left after the butterflies. You started to avoid the feeling of your fave heating and the speed of your heart, knowing that the stoic man would literally never feel the same.

"I just-got...busy?" It was more of a question than a statement, unsure of your answer.

"How? You've done nothing but prance around as usual."

Okay, um wow, ick.

Just kidding, his ass was too fat to get the ice.

"Hey! I'm a busy spider person! I have many, spider things to do." You were waving your hands around. You turned on your heel, going to walk out before a strong hand literally covered your shoulder.

"Wait, did I....do something?" Miguels voice drastically changed, stern to soft in seconds. His eyes were searching yours too.

"I-no, it's just. I don't know man, I'm sorry." You admitted, eyes looking down while you played with your hands.

"If-if I did something, you should come to me to fix it, as your superior you should always report to me." Miguel said, sliding his hand off your shoulder, and his usual face of stoicism came sliding back on.

That as well, Miguel was technically your boss, the man you scouted you out and now that you work under.

"I know. That...this doesn't have to do with that."

"Then what-what is impending your work." He was stretching, you knew that, but you couldn't just tell him, hey I'm totally in love with you but I know you don't feel the same so that's why I'm avoiding you!

Things don't work that way.

"Nothing it's just...it's nothing really, it's fine." You turn back around, missing the way Miguel reached out to stop you.

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A ding made Miguel O'Hara look up from the feed he was watching. He turned behind him, looking at the new report that just came in. It was from you.

Miguel filed it away from later.

He had once complained to you how long they were, and how he didn't need to know every detail. You made a point after that to make them even longer and lengthier.

He would never, never admit it out loud, but he liked to read them just before bed. He loved your writing, how he could just step in and be there, like he was there with you, fighting alongside you.

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"Miguel?" Your voice was unsure, timid. You couldn't see the platform he was usually brooding on, and you stepped out to try and find him.

Your face dropped to an annoyed when you saw him slowly descending from his throne.

"When are you gonna make that thing faster?" You called out.

"I do it so it so my work isn't disturbed further." Miguel said pointedly. You climbed up the platform when it got close enough, pushing away the floating screens from your face.

"I brought you lunch! I didn't see you at the cafeteria so..." You shook the box, and put it down on his desk.

The awkward silence hung on the air again, before you couldn't bear it, but the beating of your heart made you falter.

The sight of Miguels' handsome face and built body made your heart pound and stomach twist.

You mentally slapped your face before you took a deep breath in.

"So did you hear about plush spider-man and Toy Spiderman?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You should return to your universe." Miguel had waited until the two of settled in silence to say something. Usually, you ranted for awhile before you were called into a mission.

But this time, nothing pulled either of you away. And Miguel listened while you talked, it was mostly you anyway. At first when you started to bug the older man, you didn't know if he was listening or not, but you saw how his ears perked up and how he'd subtly remind you of details of stories that you'd told.

"Woowwww, you're kicking me out? I'm not that annoying, am I?' You looked up at him from where you were hanging, a fake hurt look coming to your face.

"You are, and you should leave." He didn't even look back to you, only reading some article or report.

"Miggyyyyy." You called out for him. He hated it when you used that nickname, but you loved watching him shake his head.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, and watched what he was doing with your head on his shoulder. A massive shit eating grin decorated your face as he tensed and glared at you. You ignored your racing heart and hot face just to see the look on his.

He didn't push you off there, merely pausing for a moment before resuming his work. "You know I hate that nickname, it's annoying and unprofessional."

"Unprofessional? Because we're all a super serious business, a super legit business too." You laughed.

Miguel rolled his eyes, they constantly flick from your face to his work.

"Whatcha doiiinn." You rested your chin on his head, quickly getting bored.

"Working. Like you should be doing." He said, exasperated.

You made a fart sound, "Working is for nerds, me? I'm a cool guy." You walked away from him, getting ready to jump off the platform before you looked back at him. Shocked to see he was staring at you.

There was silence, again. Something so unusual for you two, for you.

"Yeah?" You asked, timid.

"Theres...." Miguel stood up, turning to you fully. "Lunch, tomorrow. Would you...like to go out for lunch tomorrow? There's a special going on at some place downtown, and I thought it'd be something that you'd enjoy."

You blinked owlisly at him, this was so...out of character for him. And he seemed apprehension, like every word he said was like pulling teeth. His fave seemed more red, his skin making it more apparent since he already had a reddish undertone.

"I-I'd love to! I mean," You cleared your throat, and stood up straight, putting on a serious persona, "Yeah sure its whatever." You snifged, wiping your nose to try and look cool.

Miguel gave you a blank stare, but unlitmatly rolling his eyes to let out a chuckle. The sight was something to behold, especially from your serious leader.

"I'll see you tomorrow! And I expect you to be wearing people clothes, since we'll be going out as people!" You laughed, jumping down and running from the platform.

Miguel just let out a fond sigh as he watched you leave. And he turned around to Lyla giving him a smug look.

He scowled, "I don't want a word from you."

She mimicked zipping her lips closed, smirking.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

#miguel o'hara #spiderman across the spiderverse #atsv #miguel o'hara x reader #fanfiction #x reader #spider man 2099 #across the spiderverse x reader #jessica drew #gn reader #across the spider verse spoilers #guys was that bad #my first time writing that man #god i want him so bad #hes so babygirl #not edited

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jellyvibes710 · 10 months

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I'm aliveeee (Little Baby Blue AU)

So I made a thing! It took forever but I did it! I'm not the best with shading or backgrounds but I really like how these came out and I really hope you enjoy!!

This comic series will take event after the movie, it will be heartwarming but also painful, there will be some trigger warning ⚠ for some of the parts as well

The first few parts will be twin angst because I can't help myself, but dee will be doing his best to get leo better but as the weeks progress he's getting worse and worse till he eventually falls into a coma, around this time dee realizes that Leo's body isn't going to make it so he uses his big brain to come up with a plan to just make a clone of leo then transfer his soul to the Clone. He'll have to make a deal with big mama to get the right thing to accomplish this task, then leo flatlines for the first time. Although the first few parts are gonna be dark especially for the twins, traumatic for donnie because he's racing against a clock that's getting smaller and smaller, hearing his brother flatline multiple times and having to do more damage to his already fragile body just to bring him back, his twin senses were only sensing inpending doom from his dying twin, feeling a snap every time leo heart stops, hearing raph and mikey cry and bang at the door when they also heard him flatline, he didn't sleep the entire time and when he did it was brief, and having no choice but to put Leo's spirt in not only a copy of his body but a baby sized one because he knew if leo flatlined one more time he wouldn't bounce back from it, and in the back of his head he knew either way leo was going to have to relearn how to walk and talk because not only is his body demolished but his brain was scrambled and he was showing clear signs of heavy brain trauma BEFORE he slipped into a coma then when he does pull Leo's soul out (thank big mama for that tool) his spirt let's out a cry that'll haunt donnies mind forever.

It'll be traumatic for leo because last he knew he was drifting to sleep and now suddenly he's smaller, his vision is blurred so his environment is unfamiliar and dispute his twin senses he couldn't physically tell donnie was there with him but he knew donnie was scared, he couldn't hear anything because his ears were ringing so loud in his head that he couldn't hear donnies constantly apologizing as he has to pin leo down, make sure all his reflects are responsive, shine bright light in his face (which he did NOT like), leo was so scared that he was trembling and crying so loud donnie was glad he soundproofed the lab, it took hours for his sight and hearing to return to normal and the first thing he sees is a destroyed/very drained Dee, an image that'll linger in his head probably forever, but seeing him made leo immediately want to cling to donnie but he realized he couldn't even control his body the way he wanted which scared him and when donnie finally picked leo up and clung to him, he felt so small and vulnerable but he felt safe scooped up in Dee's hands which were warm from his constant fidgeting and rubbing his hands together, and if dee had to set leo down even for a moment he'd spirl into fear and start crying again because everything felt so fake but being held really grounded him to earth and kept his mind calm, for a few days he can't even tell if everything is real or not. Donnie doesn't even let mikey and raph see leo the first few days of being a baby because sadly it was donnies only option, either make a clone and put his brother's spirt in that or he dies and he'd have no way to see him again, he almost doesn't even make it and had to do cpr on leo two or three times while creating the clone and Leo's body was so damaged that each time he'd do cpr he'd have less and less time

It took just under a week for dee to build confidence to show everyone leo and explain why it was his only option, which everyone was clearly mad but understood the reasoning, dee also noticed that when he wore his ninja gear leo was constantly on edge and clearly stressed hence why everyone isn't wearing their gear to let leo kinda know that he doesn't have to worry, of course dee is the first to go back into his ninja gear because he feels like he needs to be ready for anything especially now that leo is so fragile, they gave a proper grave to Leo's old body since there wasn't anything they could do to save it. Then it's LOT of family bonding time and healing, mentally and emotionally for everyone, so it's gonna be heartwarming(hopefully) and also have its pained moments. I already did a few short comics with baby leo because I was mostly bored and I started building a story in my head and now I'm just kinda starting it >.>

This comic will be like dark chocolate, sweet but bitter

Or sour patch kids, sour sweet gone lmao

Who'll be in the comic? Everyone

I'm super excited to finally be getting started on this au and I really hope everyone enjoys it 💖

(Bonus)Some lil details I added while thinking of a storyline;

no matter how big and intimating mikey made himself look for the part you can tell that he's being super gentle with leo because he knows he naturally stronger in general then the rest of his bros, although while playing dead with leo was fun, when leo played along and flopped over it hit mikey just how close he was to actually losing his brother, small details with big impacts :]

Like- I-- just- just look at this picture, you can see the absolute care in his touch, the protective way he holds lil leo close while his face just screams "I won't let you get hurt again" and the realization of what it means to be an older brother and finally understanding raphs own overprotective tendency, mikey will definitely grow from this experience and his and raph because super close because of it, so there will be plenty of the sunset duo (I love this picture)

(Bonus #2 because I didn't sleep worth shit while working on this whole thing)

MORE BABY LEO HERE (interdiction)

HERE (Raphs/baby leo playtime)

AND HERE (mikey/babyleo + donnie/babyleo playtime)

But wait, there's more (April meets little leo)

Characters and (rough) story

Little baby blue AU

#save rise of the tmnt #rottmnt #rise fanart #rottmnt leo #rottmnt donnie #unpause rottmnt #rise movie #rottmnt raph #rottmnt angst #rottmnt mikey #rise of the teenage mutant ninja tutles #turtle tots #little baby blue au

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skyloftian-nutcase · 1 year

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(@hermitdrabbles56 I remembered to tag you this time! 😂👍🏻) @alasse-earfalas have Four dealing with stuff in the ICU :)

Four started the shift off well enough. He had a floor status patient and would be admitting a transfer who was a pre-op for a bilateral lung transplant. That meant he had a fairly independent patient in one room and… well he wasn’t sure what the other one would be like. If they needed a lung transplant they had to be sick, but they hadn’t gone through major surgery yet so they were likely not very unstable.

The only snag was that they were a transfer from the medical ICU, and we’re technically boarding on his unit. They wouldn’t become a surgical patient, and therefore be his unit’s patient, until after the surgery.

Which meant that the team he had to talk to wasn’t present on his unit. And the medical ICU was notorious for not communicating well. So if something were to go wrong, or if he needed something that wasn’t in the protocols and order sets… well. He’d cross that bridge when he got there.

In the meantime he got to receive report from Dot, which was always nice. And if they chatted on the phone a bit more than was strictly necessary, well, he wasn’t going to complain. To add to the fun, the patient was on high flow oxygen, which meant RT had to be involved, so he’d get to work with Wind and his preceptor.

Dot brought the patient over a little after 8pm, but Four had already done his assessment and drawn labs for the other patient, so it worked out well enough. The patient was very kind and clearly nervous, with supportive family to help as well. Four got everyone settled and then looked over his tasks on the computer to better plan out his shift.

Pre-op meant multiple baths with a specific antiseptic soap, as well as what felt like a million labs and an EKG. But one bath was now, the second in the morning. The labs and EKG were all due in the morning. Dot had mentioned something about a chest x-ray at 2am, but it wasn’t appearing on his to-do list, and she’d seemed unsure about it. Maybe they’d left it off, or they hadn’t ordered it yet. Chest x-rays could be portable, but she’d said something about going downstairs for it. Four hoped that wasn’t the case.

After planning out the shift, he told the transplant patient the general overview of how the night would go. Bath now, and then labs and bath and EKG at 4am. That gave her and her family time to rest.

Two hours later, Four had finally finished giving meds to his other patient, bathed the transplant patient, and charted all his assessments and actions, when he saw an order pop up for the transplant patient.

They wanted the labs within the next fifteen minutes.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Four grumbled. His patient was likely asleep by now, so he’s have to wake her to get labs. None of her IVs were returning blood, so he’d have to straight stick her.

He was starting to remember why he didn’t like boarding MICU patients. He wish the team would just talk to him instead of throw him last minute orders.

After waking everyone in the room to get labs, and sensing their drowsy annoyance as he spent what felt like an eternity drawing all the necessary blood for the ten lab containers, he poked his head in on his other patient, who was sleep, and then settled back at the nurse’s station.

I don’t like your providers, he texted to Dot. How’s your night going?

Hepatic encephalopathy with lactulose, was the reply.

Four cringed. That… was unpleasant. He was thankful he worked in the surgical-trauma ICU and not medical.

After another couple hours, one of his coworkers walked up to him. “Hey, x-ray is on the phone asking if you’re ready to come down.”

Four blanched. “What?”

“Yeah, something about a dual-view chest x-ray for your transplant patient.”

Biting back a groan, he spoke with the technician on the phone and, after debating the matter with the tech, his charge nurse, and providers on his own unit, finally gave in and arranged to take the patient downstairs.

So much for letting the patient have a good night’s rest.

Wind was equally unhappy.

“This is so stupid,” the student grumbled as he and his preceptor gathered supplies. “Like… why at 2am?? And why can’t they just do a portable one at the bedside so we don’t have to drag her downstairs? Did you see how quickly her oxygen saturation dropped when she moved around??”

“They said for dual view it has to be downstairs,” Four sighed. “But I agree, this is stupid. Why couldn’t we do this at 4am with all the other stuff? What difference does two hours make on a pre-op chest x-ray?”

As the team grouching made their way to the patient’s room, woke the patient, and proceeded to rearrange the entire room to take her downstairs, they finally had everything ready to go and were leaving in thirty minutes.

When they got to the exit of the unit, the MICU provider walked up to Four.

“Is this the transplant patient?” He asked quietly as the team continue to walk.

“Yes,” Four answered evenly, wondering what this was about.

“Oh,” he said, a little put out. “I was going to switch the x-ray order so it could be portable. Oh well.”

Four stopped in place. He blinked. He took a deep breath. And then he smiled. “Well… we’re already here, so. We’ll head downstairs.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” the provider replied with a shrug and a smile. “Thanks.”

After that the team silently made their way to the elevator. Wind and Four eyed each other, both thinking the same thing.

I am a healthcare provider. I will not kill the other provider. I won’t. I won’t.

The string of cuss words that left Wind’s mouth did make Four laugh, though.

#lu in healthcare #lu four #lu wind #lu dot #when I tell you I wanted to throttle a physician assistant last night oh boy #‘Oh I was gonna change the order well shucks’#DUDE #WHY #ALALSKHDFKS #anyway I don’t know if this was entertaining or not but here you go lol #writing

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sio-writes · 1 year

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Botanist's Guide - Chapter 12

<<Chapter 11 (NSFW)

<<< Chapter 1

Summary: Cassandra Rowland, PhD, finally has the chance to work on an experiment that really matters: growing Earth crops on another planet. Too many overdue reports and marked failures have put her in hot water with the board, and this is her last chance at redemption. So when she finds herself railroaded by a seven foot tall, glowing alien named Kri, it won’t be as easy as sticking some seeds in the soil and running them under the tap. Tack on the looming repossession of her lab contingent on her success in Kri’s reports, and Cassie realizes she may have her work cut out for her.

Looking into the microscope I see exactly what I should be seeing: The box-like cell structure of a plant, no different than one I'd see on Earth. It's sage, so crushing it between the slides released it's earthy aroma, and now my whole station smells like the greenhouse, but that's not a complaint.

Mutations are non-existent, cell walls look good, chlorophyll is bright green. I check off the Salvia officinalis box on my laptop as well as transfer any notes from my head to the computer, and then I pick up the next slide.

Lactuca Satvia, iceberg lettuce, also looks like every slide I've made. No mutations, it's bright green that fades into a white at the stalk, and if it weren't currently doing a job for science, I'd definitely add it to a salad. I note it down right next to the sage, humming something off-key as I do. Maybe I'll grab a salad for lunch.

There's only a few more slides to go through, I'm making great time today. My mp3 player crapped out on me, a victim of getting slammed against the wall the other day. I have a little funeral planned, which just consists of putting her into the garbage cube-maker thing. If I had funeral music to play I would, but…well.

It's absence has left the lab deathly silent, but I think my coworkers are thankful for it. At least, no one's said otherwise. The change in pace has kept me focused, a good thing for today with so much technical work to get done. Staying on task is my number one priority.

And Jillie won't stop staring at me.

All day now, she's been throwing me glances, flat out staring me down, she even sent a paper note over. I've been pointedly ignoring her in favor of digging into my work, with huge success on my end. I'm apparently very good at my job when I'm avoiding something else.

I'd tried the silent treatment when the door first opened-- two hours later!-- but once she started crying I felt too bad to keep up the charade. Then she'd shoved these nasty granola bars and an ice-cold water in my face, and I ate only to appease her and not because I'd skipped dinner to head back to the lab in the first place. Besides, a few minutes of pretending to be mad told her what I needed it to, and it was about all I could handle anyway. She's my friend, I can't be mad at her for trying to hook me up. But I can pretend to withhold the information to torture her for a few days. Just a little.

The first day back had been the worst of her prying. Kri had decided to keep up his schedule of only showing up once a week, giving her permission to blabber away.

"So. Is it big?"

"Hand me the pipettes, please."

"Aw come on! At least tell me if he was good!"

"Pipettes. Please."

But Kri is here today, thank god, so her barrage of questions has stopped for now.

Eventually I will share, because I want to, but Kri and I didn't actually talk about anything. He didn't wake me up after ten minutes like I'd asked him to, instead the shrill metal of the door sliding open is what woke me up. And then Jillie rushed in with her terrible food, and we all went home. It felt particularly anti-climactic compared to the heated confession and fucking.

Part of me is hopeful, but it's nearly drowned out by the cynic in me. Until we parted ways, Kri kept constant contact with me-- a steadying hand on my back, an arm around my waist, and once, for a glorious moment as Jillie walked out ahead of us, he interlaced our hands together and squeezed my fingers. I think my heart actually leapt into my throat, and then he was walking away without a goodbye.

It's left this…whatever we have going, undefined and hazy. We exchanged pleasantries this morning, but that was all, and it's been nothing but work since. I'm not picking up any anger or malice, but it's also awkward as hell, especially with an extra set of blue eyes watching my every move. "Ignore us Jill, but hey Kri, remember when we fucked? That was great, wanna do it again? On a regular basis?"

It's not like I can call or text him, I don't have a phone that connects to Summanus' sat-system. Just the chunky brick they gave at landing that connects to the handful of satellites we ground out of the military's original plan. I don't know where Kri lives, either, and they don't have any kind of directory in English. But it's not like Kri's made any moves either, and he actually knows where I live.

I sigh through my nose as I prep the next set of slides. Maybe I'm making excuses, flimsy reasons to keep this going as a casual thing instead of what I'd hoped it would be, what I want it to be. But we need to talk, hands down. Because not knowing is driving me crazy.

Stealing a glance at Kri is easy, just pretend to hold the slide to the light. I simultaneously want to catch his attention as well as have him keep ignoring me so I can keep staring like a creep. There's things I hadn't picked up on before, small details. The line of his shoulders, the angles of his wings. He's still so pretty under the lights with the flecks of opalescent color in his plating, but it feels like I'm seeing him in an entirely new light. Has something in my brain switched?

The cosmos grants me a favor when Jillie walks to the bathroom. Immediately, I step away from my desk and towards Kri.

"Hey," I say.

I probably should've thought of something to say.

"Hello," he says, resting his hands on his lap and giving me his full attention. "Is everything alright?"

I fidget with my coat, trying not to remember how it felt to take off for him. "Can we--Can we talk?"

He glances sideways at the bathroom door, then back to me. "Right now?"

I've come to realize that Kri isn't cagey like I once thought, he's just intensely private. He doesn't broadcast things, doesn't offer information like I do, isn't loud or boisterous. He flies under the radar a lot, and I think it's on purpose.

"Later," I assure him. "Later-- um, do you wanna-- I mean, would you mind, maybe--"

As I talk and fidget, Kri stands from his chair and steps up to me. He grabs my face gently between two hands, and tilts my head up to his, both thumbs tracing lines over my cheeks.

"Would you like to talk over dinner?"

"That's a--" I clear my throat, and Kri's eyes crinkle as he smiles. "Sounds great."

His fingers are soft and warm, thumbs tracing over my cheek again, and his gaze falls to my lips.

Nothing's been set in stone, but this, and the reminder of everything else, makes me want something solid. Something real, tangible.

I've tried to think about what I want to say, but I've never been good at stringing words together. I'm more a woman of action than speaking, I'd rather just push Kri against the desk and kiss him until my lips bleed.

We lean closer together, almost kissing, until the sound of a soft 'ahem' makes us jump apart, and we both turn to the source of the noise. In the doorway, Jillie has the biggest, shit-eating grin on her face.

My jaw works on several starting noises, but none make their way out. I wind up looking like a fish.

She holds up her hands, placating. "Hey don't let me interrupt." And sits back at the countertop as if nothing happened.

Heat rises to my cheeks, even more so when I hear Kri softly chuckle behind me as he steps back to sit down. I grumble back to my desk, and Jillie's pointed looks burns a hole through my spine. But we work through the next thirty minutes without issue. It's boring as shit, and the tension in the air makes my leg bounce up and down.

After a few more minutes of tense silence, I'm ready to burst. I'm going to explode.

"I'm holding a funeral for Emmie."

The two of them look to me, but their expressions couldn't be further apart. Kri looks shocked, genuinely concerned that I have a deceased friend, and Jillie's look is flat, very much done with my shit.

"Your mp3 player, really Cass?"

Kri's expression resolves into understanding, and then falls to match Jillie's. "Hardly grounds for a funeral."

I chew on my bottom lip and stare at the floor. "Yeah the, uh, the screen cracked." I pull Emmie out of my back pocket, where she usually lives, and display her in my cupped palms like a baby bird. Behind Jillie, Kri sucks in a breath, but says nothing. Jillie either doesn't notice or doesn't care, because she scoffs, smiling.

"You're so dramatic."

I pocket Emmie again, my brows pinching in mock-offense. "She was a member of this family!"

"It was outdated before your grandparents were born!"

"She was reliable," I hold my hand to my heart, and wipe away a tear. "Three thousand songs, no internet required. Now I have to find something else."

"God forbid you talk to us instead."

I hold my sordid expression. "No one here understands me."

"You listen to your sad music too much, hun."

"It is rather whiny," Kri chimes in, and I shoot him a dirty look over Jillie's shoulder. He shrugs.

"You're both bullies, I'm putting in for a transfer," I say very mildly as I grab the next slides.

"Good," Jillie sniffs. "You can smooch it up in someone else's lab."

As slowly and dramatically as possible, I turn to her. "I'm sorry, who stuck us in a room for three hours?"

"Two, you drama queen."

"At least Kri likes me," I say and Jillie shoves my shoulder.

"One of us has to."

Our shoulders shake as we hold back laughter, and for the first time all day, I feel light. Like a seal has been broken and released all the pressure in the room.

Jillie doesn't stare at me anymore, instead she focuses her efforts on the experiment, and even hums a few songs to break up the silence. We hit a flow again, something that's been sorely lacking the past few weeks, and zoom through the required tests. Despite the crushing quiet, it's been nice to sink into a routine that we both know, stepping around each other like a dance.

I keep my eye-contact down to a minimum, because my thoughts will scatter to the wind again. And it's hard enough reigning them in even when I'm focusing on my work. Looking at Kri only makes me think of the other day, and then what may happen later. It opens up a question that I desperately need an answer to, but won't get until later. But I need it now, and the anxiety of not knowing is ramping up my anxiety to a twelve.

We all break for lunch, the three of us walking to the cafeteria. Jillie and I snag a booth with our food, and Kri splits off. I look around to see if I can find him in the mess that is the food prep stations, but I don't see him. He chose to eat by himself those first few days, a habit that carried over even when Jillie was out sick, but I wish he'd sit with us now.

Turning back to the booth, I accidentally make eye-contact with Jillie. The flame of curiosity is back in her eyes, and I shrink down in my seat. I suppose it's time to end her suffering.

"This is killing me," she says. "Are you guys a thing now?"

She looks so excited, so hungry to hear about everything. I push out a sigh. "I have no idea. We didn't talk about it."

Leaning back, Jillie's face falls into an impressed expression, and I fail to suppress a responding smile. Jillie slaps her palms on the table and barks out a laugh. "I knew it!"

"Shush!" I hiss, reaching over as if the motion would quiet her. "Not so loud."

Jillie's eyes are glittering as she reaches for my hands across the table. "You have to tell me everything."

In as many words, I try to surmise the evening, from the fight to falling asleep, with Jillie interjecting with questions every now and then. Some details I keep to myself, I'm allowed some secrets, but Jillie's my best friend. We try to eat in between, but eventually wind up setting down our food to focus on conversation.

I finish with her opening the door, and she squeezes my hands. "So where should I disinfect? The countertop? The floor? The shower in the bathroom?"

"He held me against the wall," I say, pulling my bottom lip between my teeth.

"Ooh, standing?"

I shake my head, and her look of realization is priceless.

"You have to tell me how big he is."

I groan to the ceiling. "I wish I knew. I couldn't see it."

"Then you gotta look again, hun!"

Leaning back, I grab my water bottle and take a swig. "He did invite me to dinner."

Jillie nods sagely. "You're definitely gonna get some tonight, then."

I open the wrapper for my salad and mull it over as I pour the dressing on. "I don't know if I want to. At least not tonight. I was hoping we'd talk instead."

"Talk?"

I nod. "We didn't do much talking-- shut up-- so now I don't know what this is. Friends-with-benefits? Something serious? And what do I even want? What does he want from me? What is he--"

"Cass, calm down. Nothing's happened yet."

"That's the problem! I don't know what's going on."

Jillie scrunches her face, her head falling to one side. "Then ask him?"

I plop my cheek into my palm, squishing my face on one side. "Not like we've had time."

Jillie offers me a sympathetic look. "Maybe you need to be more upfront. Instead of making out while I'm in the bathroom, you have a little chit-chat. I can disappear for a while."

"We already agreed on dinner," I say, smiling.

"You sure?" She raises her eyebrows. "You just say the word, and I'm gone for fifteen to twenty minutes."

I shake my head again, filled with warmth that she's so insistent. I am anxious about it, but things can wait. It's not worth putting the experiment on hold for. Besides, the lab is hardly a romantic setting to have a serious conversation.

With a deciding nod, Jillie starts to clean her space, and I'm short to follow behind. The rest of the day runs as planned, no interruptions. Jillie stays in her seat, and I'm not thrown into a panic.

I'm actually looking forward to dinner with Kri. The restaurants here are okay, and there's even a few with that warm, low, romantic lighting that's perfect for dates. And honestly, I'm more excited to spend time with Kri. A small, girlish part of me wants to go home to freshen up, make myself look nice instead of the lab rat I must resemble.

All three of us head out of the building, Jillie heading west, Kri and I heading south. The restaurants are all in the northern quadrant by the Capitalism District, there's none in this direction. The only thing this way is housing.

I fake nonchalance as we walk. "So, where're we headed?"

"The…" he trails off, frowning and speaking slowly like he's testing out the words. "Food storage facility."

I raise an eyebrow. "The grocery store?"

He looks down at me, concerned. "Is that okay?"

The grocery store is closer to a MiniMart or a gas station. A handful of isles of instant meals, comfort foods, and frozen produce shipped from Earth. But there's also the ento-run store to the east with more selection. It's open to the public, but everything is labeled in Universal, and I have no idea what's good or not, so I've been too intimidated to go on my own. "Which store?" I ask.

"The eastern building, I just need to pick up a few items."

I feel my stomach grumble. "And food after?"

"I was hoping to cook for you," he says, wings fluttering. "If that's alright."

I haven't had anyone cook for me since I visited my parents. Warmth settles in me, not quite arousal, but something else, something heavier. Kri wants to cook for me.

"That'd be awesome."

The walk to the grocery store runs through another block of buildings, all of them painted in subdued, warm tones. They're all short, maybe three stories at the tallest, and the terrain reminds me of a seaside strip mall-- laid brick and cobblestone. I've only ever been to this side once on a tour, this is where it turns into culture and arts.

The store is nestled at the bottom floor of a deep red building, a carved out space that may have once been a multi-vehicle garage. Inside are several rows of foodstuffs, some packaged, some open. There's an assortment of fruits that I have no idea the names of as well as what look like a few rows of packaged instant ramen. Some things are universal, I suppose.

The store is empty, so it's just the two of us looking through the isles. I wander the isles while Kri picks up several fruits. He grabs a plum-sized blue seed, a handful of bean pods the size of my finger, and two green vegetables that look like potatoes. I'm examining the isle of drinks, wondering what tastes like what, when Kri grabs my attention.

"Would you prefer sweet, or savory?" He holds up two nearly identical looking spheres that look like dark red coconuts. I walk up and pretend to inspect them, humming as I think. I have no idea what he's doing, but I appreciate that he's including me.

"What do you like?" I ask.

"It's your decision."

I blink at him. "But I don't know what you're cooking. What's easier for you?"

Kri regards me, head tilted, and puts the coconut in his left hand back on the pile. He doesn't say anything, remaining silent as he grabs several other things, all the while catching glimpses of me as he does. I sidle up to him as the cashier bags his stuff.

"What'd ya go with?"

The cashier extends one long arm and hands Kri his things, and Kri quickly closes the bag so I can't see inside. "You'll have to find out."

I balk. "No fair!"

He smirks at me sidelong. "You insisted it was my decision."

"But I need to know the results."

"You will."

***

Kri’s apartment isn’t far from the store. I have to wrestle one of the grocery bags out of his grubby hands so I can I carry it and feel useful as we wind around buildings and cross a few streets. We walk quietly, not quite awkward enough for my reflexive talking to kick in, but I feel the need to fill the space simmering under my skin.

I want to say something. I should probably say something. It's only fair, and would help my anxiety so much more than waiting.

We wait in the elevator to his floor and I need to say something. We're approaching his place and I need to speak up, but I say silent.

It's too much, it would break this easy flow. The timing isn't right and god damn it, we're already at his door.

Stepping through the doorway feels simultaneously like jumping off a cliff and nothing at all. I'm aware of how huge this feels, my stomach lurches and my hands go clammy, but I'm also aware of the world continuing to turn around me. This doesn't feel real, but I want to grab at it with both hands and take it before it disappears.

Kri flicks the lights on, and I don't know what I expected, but a mirror of my own place wasn't it. This building is supposed to have the nicer layouts, with actual bedrooms instead of a studio layout. It's not surprising though, us Earth scientists are about as creative as socks for Christmas when it comes to designing buildings. I hope Kri isn't paying extra.

Everything is scaled up for someone of Kri's size, and there's a massive cloth hammock where the bed should be that's piled high with pillows. Along the living room wall on the right are shelves of books, interspersed with plants of various sizes that hang down almost to the floor. To the left of the sliding glass door to the balcony is another bookshelf, with a screen and speakers, and the light reflects off several picture frames that flick through a few photos.

Giving in to my base urge to be nosy, I set my bag on the kitchen counter and wander over to the television set. Under the coffee table is an ornate looking rug that's definitely too expensive for my apartment, and I try to tip-toe around it to avoid leaving any dirt, when something catches my eye.

In the corner, on a bottom shelf, is a taxidermied rat on a tiny skateboard. It's in the middle of popping an ollie, sitting in the center of some kind of ceramic crown of Summanian flowers. The frame above it swipes to a new photo, and in my peripheral I see Kri

My anxiety flares, and I turn away from the shelf of picture frames and other memories. Focusing my attention on something else is all I can do not to feel like a trespasser here, and I wander to the kitchen where Kri is grabbing several items from the fridge. The feeling of inadequacy swells, gelatinous and without form, and I try to push it down. It squishes between the bars of my mind, an imprint reflected back at me that tells me I’m not welcome here.

Instead, I step up to Kri and wrap my arms over his waist. The chitinous plating covering his body draws lines over his form that lead my fingers to his front, and I lean into his frame. Even bent over, my arms are level with his waist, and when he straightens, it pushes my face into his wings. Their whole structure is split into two sets, the bottom that folds open like a fan, and the top shaped like a dragonfly’s wing. They’re cool under my cheek, catching the light and shimmering.

“Yes?” He asks, two hands coming to pat mine.

I sigh heavily against his back, trying to sort my thoughts and coming up short. Taking my silence for an answer, Kri turns in my arms and cups my face in his lower hands.

“Am I not paying you enough attention?” He teases gently, running a free hand over my head. “Because I’m trying to provide you with a meal.”

Shame wells up behind my anxiety, hot and present, and I puff my cheeks and stare at a spot on his shoulder. I know talking is the right choice here, but my head is too much of a mess to talk about anything.

Ignoring the swirling feelings in my gut, I push up on the balls of my feet and press our lips together. He hums, a surprised note deep in his throat, as the hands gently cupping my cheeks firmly hold me and he pushes back. It’s a different kiss than the first one, softer, sweeter, holding promise. He’s slow to lick in my mouth, but it adds heat that reminds me of the passion of last week. He can pick me up and set me against the wall, can hold me with two arms and work me over with the other two.

I push my tongue into his mouth, wanting to make up for the interrupted kiss earlier today. My lips slot against his and he hums another satisfied note as he skims his tongue against mine and starts exploring my mouth.

I want more of this, I want this all the time. I can’t imagine giving up the way he slots so perfectly against me, like a puzzle piece I didn’t realize I was missing.

Kri pulls away from my mouth with a pained sound, but I can hear the smile in his voice. "I thought you wanted to talk first."

I lean into him and push my lip out in a pout. "Changed my mind."

And then he smiles against my lips and pushes forward again. It's so easy to give in, like falling into a soft bed. I'm surrounded by comfort and warmth.

Taking the lead, Kri steps me over to the counter and, without breaking the kiss, picks me up by the waist and lifts me onto the countertop. The ease that he picks me up makes me feel hot, and I moan softly against his lips before Kri pulls away.

"What would you like to--"

"Anything you want," I breathe. "What do you want?"

Kri laughs, low and dangerous. "From you? Everything."

He leans forward to kiss me again, but the silence of the room makes my growling stomach practically echo against the walls, and Kri's hands stop halfway to my chest.

"You need to eat," he says, smiling.

With that, he straightens, hands smoothing down my hair, and turns away from me and back into the kitchen.

"What would you like to drink? I have water, and I'm quite fond of Earth's orange juice."

I snicker. "Orange juice is actually more of a breakfast drink."

Kri presses his lips together and looks away, wings fluttering. "I also have lifrit juice, and wegol soda."

I hop down from the countertop and walk around the island to a stool. It's tall enough that when I sit, my legs swing freely. It's been a long while since my feet haven't hit the floor, it makes me feel like a kid again.

Humming, I tap my fingertips over my lips. I'm not sure what those last two were, and I'm up for trying something new, but I also want tonight to mean something. It feels important that everything go right. "What would go with tonight's meal?"

He perks up at that. "I may have something," And starts rooting around in his lower cabinets. I hear him knocking about lots of metal objects-- pots and pans maybe, before he straightens, holding a bottle of wine.

"Is this acceptable?"

I drag the bottle closer and spin it around to get a look at the label. It's a Sauvignon blanc from a few years back, unopened. What a random thing to have in his cabinet. "Why do you have this?"

"I bought it to sample the taste, but never got the chance," he says as he roots around in the drawers. He opens a few before finding the little corkscrew opener and hands it to me. The bottle pops open easily, and I pour it into the two glasses Kri sets out for me. I bring the glass to my lips and sip at it while Kri watches and mimics me. I'm not super into wine-tasting but this one is good, it would pair well with a fancy meal.

The face Kri makes after he sips is the same face I make when Jillie orders tequila shots, and I have to be careful not to inhale my drink. Kri immediately sets his glass down and shakes his head.

I hide my smile behind my glass. "Not a fan?"

"That is quite awful," he says with a shudder.

I take another sip of mine and then swirl the glass because I feel fancy. "It's pretty dry, you may be a fan of the sweeter stuff like Moscato. That one tastes like ginger ale."

Kri eyes my glass and purses his lips, skeptical, "I'll take your word for it."

As he turns back to the stove, I tip the remnants of his drink into my own, nearly filling the glass to the brim. Drinking on an empty stomach is a bad idea, especially if I'm going to need to find my way home later, but if I take little sips instead of trying to gulp it down like I usually do, I think I'll manage.

I watch Kri as he cooks, sitting on the opposite end of the countertop island to stay out of his way. As always, he's graceful in what he does, even with his back to me. All four hands doing something different, always switching focus and lasering in on it, not a single mistake is allowed, and absolutely hypnotizing to watch.

"You're an alien of many talents," I say, and he glances at me over his shoulder.

"How do you mean?"

"I didn't know you could cook."

"Oh, I quite enjoy it. I can make you all manner of things."

I ignore the flutter in my stomach at the idea of him making me food regularly, and try to peer around him as he works. "What's your favorite thing to make?"

"Lepsc'it, it's a fried Trokk root stuffed with vegetables and spices. It's very easy, only a few ingredients, and there's many varieties all over the globe."

"Are you making that now?"

His wings flutter. "I thought I'd attempt something a bit more complicated."

"Are you trying to impress me?" I ask with a smirk.

He's too slow to cover his smile, "Only if it's working."

The smell of spices and vegetables fills the small space, like thyme or rosemary, with a hint of heat behind all of it, mixed with whatever main dish he's prepping. There's large puffs of pink something resting on a pan in the corner, a thick brown sauce that he scraped cubed veggies into, and something else that's blocked by his frame. It all smells heavenly.

My mouth is watering by the time he sets a large plate in front of me with one of those pink bread rolls on one side, the sauce and cubed veggies on the other. I smell more spices and heat, and it's agony to wait for him to sit next to me at the countertop.

"Is it rude to just dig in?"

"Absolutely it is," he says, smiling. "But we're not at a paid dining establishment." He motions to my plate. "Eat."

This dish reminds me of curry but with bread instead of rice, and smells the same. Kri hasn't laid out any utensils as most ento eat with their hands, so I tear a piece of the pink bread off, dip it in the sauce, and pop it in my mouth.

Spices and flavor dance over my tongue, things I can't name but are still delicious. It pairs with the bread so well, I'm barely through the first mouthful before I'm shoving a second bite in my face.

Kri eats opposite me, slow and careful, trying to casually glimpse up at me like he's checking in on me, and I cover my smile around another bite of food. He's worried, I can tell, and it's kind of cute.

I wolf down my food and say nothing, and normally I would feel bad about the silence, but Kri doesn't say anything either.

"It was acceptable?"

"Don't kid yourself, it was delicious. I'm so full," I say, patting my stomach for emphasis.

It's not just the food that keeps me quiet. I also don't want to talk about how I feel. Being emotionally honest makes me anxious, makes me think of all the ways it could be used against me. I don't want to scare off Kri with all the issues I have. He listened to me in Igrien, but how many more times will he listen to me say, "Oh, Stephen made me this way," before he walks out?

But as we both set our plates aside and sit awkwardly in the kitchen, I realize that this is it. That if I want something to happen with Kri, I have to grab it with both hands myself. Even so, I still fiddle with my hands as I speak up.

"So uh, is this the part where we talk about feelings?"

Kri tilts his head, probably picking up on my mood, and quietly says, "If you'd like."

"Not really," I laugh, nerves making the sound shaky. "But I just want to know that we're on the same page-- that we're at a complete understanding," I correct when Kri narrows his eyes in confusion.

I focus my attention to a spot on the table. "I'm not good at words but I want…this. Us-- something…Something."

Even to my own ears it sounds horrible, and I grimace. God damn it, I should've thought about it before we got here. But all I have is feelings, emotions that push at my heart and flood my senses. I don't know how to describe my anxiety any better than describing the color red. Sometimes it feels like too much, like if I acknowledge anything it'll turn into too much to handle.

Kri only stares at me, giving me more space to talk, and my teeth creak as I grind them together anxiously. "Okay, it's your turn."

And then he looks away, down at the table, at his hands. His expression shutters off, a blank face, then darkens into something profoundly sad, and it's like I can hear his thoughts across the table. I appreciate the romp in the lab, Cass, but this just isn't for me. You're too fucked up, and I'm not about to deal with all of that. Except he'd say it nicer, with bigger words. Taking a shaking inhale, I hold my breath as the tightness of anxiety starts to coil around my chest and wraps fingers over my brain.

Then Kri sighs, a heavy movement of his shoulders, and he looks back up at me. "I admit that my thoughts are scattered. Between wanting to breathe you in like oxygen, and questioning whether I've earned the right to inhale. You've already bared your feelings for me, and I did not tell you mine at the time as I was--" he pauses to think, then huffs a laugh, "distracted. But I believe I have words for you now."

He reaches across the small table, taking my hands in his. He's warm as always, and his thumb rubs the back of my hand comfortingly. The tightness in my chest eases, ever so slightly.

"Cassie," he says. "I have a great many feelings for you, some of which I'm prepared for, and others that frighten me deeply. I am well aware that I come with a history, and the weight that it implies. But if you'll allow me your patience and understanding, I'd very much like to explore what a relationship with you would look like."

It's so earnest, so bare, that I'm hit with a wave of emotion that completely drowns out any other thoughts I have in my head. I want to lean forward and kiss his hands. I want to vault over the table and climb into his lap. "Jesus, did you prepare that?"

His eyes widen a fraction, like he didn't expect me to respond like that, and then he nods. "When confronted with interpersonal problems, I know that I tend to recede into myself and minimize the words leaving my mouth, and I'm trying not to do that so we're, what did you say, on the same page? You deserve my transparency in this, especially considering how I've been acting. I was trying to push you away when you wanted to be close, and you deserve so much better than that."

There's so much he's saying without saying it, and I can analyze why he thinks I deserve better, or inspect why all I want to do is jump over the table and give him the ride of his life, but my brain only latches onto my own insecurity. "You prepared a speech for me and all I had was, like, five words."

With a free hand, Kri rustles around in his bag and produces a small square of paper, folded very neatly. "I also wrote down several non-starters in case you realized that you're too good for me, so I also had a handful of words prepared."

It's said so casually, so matter-of-fact, that I can't help but snort. It breaks the tension in the room and my smile feels easier than before, keeping eye contact isn't as difficult.

"And to be fair," he continues. "You said more than enough the other day. I was worried that you'd take it all back."

Something clicks into place in my head, a small, flighty piece of Kri's psyche that I've been seeing without noticing. That despite his attitude, or ego, or anything else, he still craves a form of validation, still vies for approval. And I desperately, so desperately want to know what he's afraid of. But that's a whole other conversation, a heavy and upsetting one. One that I don't think either of us are up for right now.

So I squeeze his hands in mine. "I…really like you," I say. "I think we just need to get better at showing it. I guess we could…figure it out together?"

"That sounds lovely."

Kri tries to clean up on his own, but I butt my way in when he starts to wash the dishes. I'm off to his left, drying and setting them aside, and we fall into a good rhythm that reminds me of his time helping in the lab. We don't need to speak to fill space, I'm guided by his movements, and he's guided by me.

This is nice. Domestic, even. My heart stutters at the idea of doing this again, of sharing a space, of being welcomed into his home.

As I'm drying my hands on a towel, Kri steps around and in front of me, close enough that I can smell fresh water, and I look up at him and offer a warm smile. Taking my chin in one hand, he presses a kiss to my lips, chaste and simple and wholly perfect. This is our first kiss as a couple, I realize as his other hands carefully take the towel from me and rest it on the counter.

The first of many, hopefully.

Is that sappy? I don't care, as long as they keep happening. I press up to continue the kiss, a deep-seated need shocking through me at the soft noise he makes against my lips.

Then Kri searches my face, and I hear the chitter of his wings as they flutter against his back. "You're more than welcome to stay," he says, voice low, leaving no room for misinterpretation.

It physically pains me to be responsible and say, "I have to clock in tomorrow."

He nods once, decisive, and quickly pecks my cheek again before straightening. "I will fly you home, then."

"Sounds goo-- wait what?"

Kri doesn't answer me, only walks past me and into the living room.

Surely, surely he can't mean literally, I continue to think as I grab my stuff and we head out the door.

But sure enough, we walk outside and he picks me up like I'm a princess, something that still shocks me that he can do, and off we go.

I've never seen the Outpost from above, and it's kind of beautiful. I can trace the lights of the walking paths and the hovercar roads, I see single rooms lit from the buildings, other residents up late like me. And outside the border of the Outpost is the pure, unfiltered landscape of Summanus, with its primordial trees and glowing underbrush, like the ground itself is framing us with light. I've seen Kri fly faster, he must be slowing himself for my benefit. And Kri is glowing too, not nearly as bright as the electronics around us, but more subtle, softer. It's still that pale blue, rivers of light lining his chitinous plating. I want to trace them with my fingers, before I remember what it does to him.

We land in front of my building, so gently that Kri's feet don't make a sound, and he sets me down just as carefully.

"Thanks," I mutter, suddenly shy and awkward. I feel like he's bringing me home from prom and it's past curfew. I clear my throat. "Thank you for dinner. Not bad for a first date."

With his two lower arms, he grabs my hands and brings them together. "You will have to decide the next one, then."

I huff an exhale, smiling up at him. "Okay."

He smiles back, soft, relaxed, totally content. Dark eyes search my face, and even in the low light I can make out my reflection in the inky blackness. Two hands come up to cup my cheeks, fingers wrapping around to the base of my skull, as Kri leans down and gently kisses me.

I tilt my head and sigh into it as my eyes fall shut, wishing I were taller so he wouldn't have to bend down as far and I could press up against him. This is still good, though, he can still rest his other hands over my hips, and I can wind my arms over his shoulders.

This is all going to hit me later, a hurricane of repressed feelings. It's going to be a lot of good emotions though, I can feel them boiling behind my chest. Giddyness and arousal alongside anxiety and dread. I'm both excited and terrified of what could happen.

I can still feel the warmth coming off of him even when he leans back. His hands stay on my face, steady and comforting, and he leans forward and quickly kisses me again.

"I should go before I follow you inside," he says around a laugh, and I nod sadly.

"Or before I drag you in."

He chuckles, low and sexy, and squeezes my hands.

"Goodnight Cassie."

"Goodnight Kri," I mumble, and he steps back, dropping my hands from his.

I watch him take off before going inside, and I couldn't wipe the smile from my face if I tried.

Chapter 13 >>

#my writing #A Botanist's Guide #monster writing #monster romance #terato writing #monster x human #exo writing #and with this chapter we start the second arc of the story #focusing on their relationship #we're at the halfway point folks!#they're gonna be disgustingly in love i'm so excited

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mwolf0epsilon · 1 year

Note

I saw your original clones post and I was curious to know more about each of them if that's ok? I really like the one with purple hair

You're the first Anon of 2023. You're also lovely for asking me about my blorbos, thank you :')

This is gonna be a little long so I'll keep it under a readmore, but like, I'm keeping batchmates together because it's easier to explain who's who if I do it like that. I'll also be addressing them each through order of appearance so it's less confusing.

Anyway, lets do some clone talk!

---

First lets start with my 104th ARCs, Bully and Jawbreaker. They were former members of Krell's Battalion and two of his favourite punching bags, which is where they got their scarring from.

They were pulled into the 104th by Maeleen Eppa, a natborn engineer that noticed their fearful and distrustful nature when Plo Koon's battalion ended up working with Krell's on the same mission.

They're the hard-ass older brothers because, back on Kamino, they lost two batchmates during training exercises, and then had two much younger cadets (Tup and Dogma) introduced into their squad to even out the numbers. It's become second nature to be protective of Shinies, and even if they don't trust very easily they are loyal to a fault (unless they feel like they've been personally betrayed).

They sadly don't make it post Order 66.

Next up we have the tragedy that are Pox and Syrup.

Pox was a clone medic trainee on Kamino that got along brilliantly with his batchmates. Despite the hardships of training, he was always kind, reliable and willing to drop everything to help someone else along the way. Syrup was no different from his batchmate, and while he was training to be a simple foot-soldier, he was going to be acting as a reserve medic as well for whatever battalion he ended up in.

They were finishing training during the last leg of the Clone Wars, when suddenly Sulu Ra called for Pox's squad to partake in some kind of a training exercise. Syrup was, at the time, in medbay for an injury he'd sustained during training, so he wasn't brought along for whatever mystery exercise they were being tasked with.

Long story short... It was a bioweapon test... One that killed several clone troopers that hadn't even graduated yet; left Pox as a carrier of a highly infectious disease that continuously mutated within him, while he went on the run; and which left Syrup essentially without his closest brothers to rely on...

While Pox eventually finds a group of vode to connect with post Order 66, Syrup isn't as lucky. His inhibitor chip was faulty and began to rot inside of him, much like Tup's had, and it obliterates his sense of self to the point where he doesn't consider himself a person. Just a tool to be used by the Empire.

Next up Hyena, a medic of the 104th.

Like with Bully and Jawbreaker, he wasn't originally with the 104th. He was assigned to the 501st with his squad from Kamino, which he never got along with because they were a bunch of unrelenting bullies that thought they were better than everyone else. The disagreements got so bad that eventually he grew fed up enough to request a transfer, and managed to get into the 104th where he felt much more at home.

There's not much to say about Hyena other than, he has quite the sense of humor and love for terrible jokes/puns.

Still unsure what happens to him post Order 66.

We're missing one of them (Goch) due to his face being a little harder to draw than your average clone due to several facial deformities, but next up comes the Long Name Squad.

Lichtenberg, Pretty Boy and Olly are in the 501st, 212th and Coruscant Guard respectively, while Hippo and Cala were never in battalions due to the two of them (and Goch) being confined in Sulu Ra's private lab.

Lich is the accident prone but often optimistic and carefree older brother of the batch, PB is the token pretty boy with a bit of a sassy mean streak, Olly is the responsible but heavily traumatized one, and Hippo and Cala are still getting used to being free at all.

Side-notes: Hippo's goggles are technically a visual aid because her cyclopsia has left her vision severely impaired. Cala needs a cane to walk due to her polymelia making her a little top heavy (she has four arms). Both used to be conjoined twins before being surgically separated.

They have a relatively happy ending post Order 66, even if getting to it is an absolute hardship that tests their bonds repeatedly.

Next up, Seafood Squad! And boy howdy these ones are such a burning trash-fire of a mess...

In order we have Geoduck, Conch, Crayfish, Jelly and Sponge. All of them were in the scuba trooper program before Sponge (who had always been a target of Kaminoan scrutiny, due to a set of circumstances that still make them very uncomfortable) was ultimately pulled from it and forced into the medical training program.

This seemed to cause a sizeable rift between Sponge and the three eldest members of their batch (one that grew overtime due to Conch's pettiness and Crayfish's indifference). Jelly, the most amicable and compassionate of the batch, stuck with them for the long run and refused to grow distant. The two of them were so inseparable to the point where Sponge begged Jelly to come with them into whatever battalion they got assigned, rather than go with the others. Jelly accepted, pulling out of the scuba trooper program and worsening the growing contempt a certain member of the batch felt towards Sponge.

Ultimately, Geoduck, Conch and Crayfish were assigned to Kit Fisto's battalion, while Jelly and Sponge were assigned to the 501st. Jelly then died in an incident that heavily traumatized Sponge, and from there on out the rest of the batch (mostly Conch) blamed them for the death of their favourite vod'ika, and stopped contacting them at all. This left Sponge alone to deal with their trauma, which they didn't do very well...

A lot happens to them throughout the war itself and, at some point (likely driven by guilt and shame of being such a poor excuse for an older brother), Geoduck decides to try to mend the relationship between the batch and Sponge. But, due to his rather unique issue (face blindness so severe that he honestly has trouble recognizing anyone), he never managed to do so during the war itself. Mostly due to Conch actively sabotaging his attempts, and Crayfish simply not caring enough to help because he'd rather not stick his nose into any drama.

Side-Notes: Geoduck, Conch and Jelly have sea creature themed names which they decided on when they first began their scuba training. Crayfish has a freshwater creature themed name instead, because he may or may have not eaten a live crayfish that he pilfered from the Kamino Kitchens during the night.

Meanwhile, Sponge is not named after sea sponges at all. They are instead named after surgical sponges due to a... Rather unfortunate incident during their training... In an ironic twist it just fits their batch's theme in a way.

What happens to the great majority of them post Order 66 is still a WIP, but I know how Sponge's story ends and I'm very pleased with it.

These three next ones are fun... Introducing Medic Canivete of the 212th, Officer Incognito of Krell's Battalion, and Ordnance Specialist 8-Ball. The one batch who can't decide which is the sane one of the group (none of them are).

Cani is essentially a Swiss army knife in terms of skills. She's officially a medic on record, but she also does a lot of flight crew tasks and a spot of engineering here and there. A girl has to keep herself busy after all! And she just likes to learn new things.

Incognito is an anxiety-riddled mess that wishes he wasn't often so unlucky with what life throws his way (he cannot get a break the poor sod), and has a lot of self-doubt that plagues him during his introspection sessions. He's living with a lot of survivor's guilt due to the situation he's stuck in (pretending to be a droid while trapped in a Venator he's trying to stir away from Republic space so the seppie droids that took over don't slaughter any more of his brothers), but overall seems to be in relatively safer hands with the droids than when he was under Krell's command.

8-Ball is a bit of an enigma to most. He's a happy go lucky sort, lover of anoobas of all shapes and sizes, and also a force sensitive clone with a predisposition for precognition that he doesn't recognize as anything else other than "gut feelings". He's a fun guy who doesn't have one mean bone in his body, and who's predictions have earned him both his name and a bit of infamy among other clones, since he mostly seems more attuned to "guessing" less than positive events to come...

I'm not entirely sure what happens to them post Order 66...

[REDACTED]

Before Fox became the Marshal Commander of the Coruscant Guard, the title belonged to Sturm... His predecessor who was met with a terrible fate for caring too much and trying to investigate things he should have averted his gaze away from...

Lets just say there's more than one reason why Fox keeps his mouth shut about what goes on on Coruscant, and Sturm's unfortunate fate is one of those reasons.

Order 66 doesn't much matter in this case. Sturm was already doomed from the start.

Finally we have Mythos Squad, a squad of clone commandos who deserted the GAR after their Jedi General (Vikerius Kwinde) was killed by Grievous.

In order we have Dragon (the defacto leader), Komainu (the designated medic), Basilisk (the sniper), Gremlin (the designated technician) and Kerberus (the demolitions expert).

There's not much to say about them because unfortunately Kerberus is the last one standing post Order 66. He was deafened during torture, so while listening to the GAR radio chatter the others heard the order being called out while he could not (thus they attempted to terminate him for disobeying the order, and he had to kill them in self-defense, something that will never stop haunting them).

#star wars #the clone wars #clone ocs #infodumping about the blorbos

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missmentelle · 4 years

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How do I know if I'm burnt out and what are signs of being burnt out? In relation to both university and work?

Unfortunately, burnout is a very common problem among both university students and people in high-stress jobs. For those of you who are unfamiliar with the term, “burnout” is effectively where people reach a breaking point after being in a high-stress occupation (like a demanding academic program or a high-pressure career) for too long. Being “burnt out” is not an official diagnosis, and you won’t find it in the ICD-11 or the DSM-V. But it’s something that an increasing number of people are experiencing every year.

Not everyone is at equal risk of experiencing burnout - many students and workers never really deal with this. Factors that put you at high risk of burnout include:

Having poor work-life balance. If you spend huge portions of your time working - working through weekends, doing tons of overtime, working late, not taking vacation, working through lunch - you are at high risk of burnout. Humans need rest, relaxation, hobbies and time with friends, and when you sacrifice those things for work, it will eventually take a toll.

Having very little control over your day-to-day tasks. No one has perfect control over their daily work tasks - not even the self-employed - but having some element of control is important. If you have a say in things like when to schedule meetings, when to book client appointments and which task you are going to work on when, you have a lower risk of burnout than someone whose tasks tend to just be dictated to them.

Having perfectionist traits or holding yourself to very high standards. People who experience burnout tend to be overachievers. They constantly try to go above and beyond because they put immense pressure on themselves to do their best work at all times. If you’re the kind of person who beats yourself up over getting an A- instead of an A and makes a point to be the last one out of the office every day, you are at risk of burnout.

Having a dysfunctional work or school environment. Is your workplace plagued with bullies and office gossip? Do your lab members take pleasure in ripping each other’s research and writing to shreds, without really being constructive about it? Does your boss take their bad moods out on the rest of the office, even when you haven’t done anything wrong? A dysfunctional workplace creates burned-out employees.

Having unclear instructions or directions. It is extremely difficult to be in a work environment where you are expected to do be productive, but you aren’t given clear expectations, a clear list of tasks or instructions for how those tasks should actually be performed. It leaves you constantly feeling like your work isn’t good enough and isn’t done properly, without actually giving you a route to improve; you often end up working twice as hard to get half as much done, which is a recipe for burnout.

Working in a helping profession. Nurses, social workers, therapists, paramedics, psychologists, caregivers and caseworkers have some of the highest burnout rates of any profession. These jobs often combine long hours and low pay with incredibly stressful work environments, and burnout is a huge problem.

Burnout is more than just feeling tired or bored of what you do. It’s a state of complete and total exhaustion. Putting more energy into your job isn’t possible when you reach that point - you have nothing left to give. “Burnout” isn’t an official diagnosis, but it is a fitting description - trying to push through burnout is like trying to re-light a candle that has already burned all the way down to the bottom. It’s just not going to happen.

Some signs that you’ve reached the point of burnout include:

Your performance is suffering. You can’t keep going full steam ahead when you’re running on fumes. When you’re burnt out, your work performance will one of the first things that starts to slip - you may find that you are missing deadlines, forgetting things, half-assing tasks and making careless mistakes.

You constantly feel drained. Burnout is a perpetual state of exhaustion. You’ll start to feel like you just don’t have the energy to do everything that you’re supposed to do. You’ll find that you feel tired all the time, regardless of your sleeping habits, and that just forcing yourself to do the bare minimum leaves you feeling totally depleted and unable to do much else.

You feel disconnected and cynical toward your work. Even if you once enjoyed your work or felt passionate about it, when you’re burnt out, you become disillusioned with what you do. You may find that you’re cynical about your work, or just so apathetic that you can’t bring yourself to care about it anymore, even when you accomplish things that once mattered to you.

You can’t concentrate. Burnout can make it difficult - if not impossible - for even the most dedicated person to focus on their tasks. You might find that you spend a lot of time just sitting in front of your computer, unable to even start tasks because you can’t focus well enough to begin something.

You have become irritable and short-tempered. People who are burnt out have a tendency to become impatient with the people around them. When you’re running on empty, you have no energy left for social interactions. You might find that you’re snapping at coworkers or getting visibly frustrated with clients if you work in a helping profession.

You feel anxious. Burnout is often accompanied by feelings of indistinct dread that you just can’t seem to shake. The fear and anxiety is often tied to work, and can be completely overwhelming.

You can’t sleep. Ironically, people with burnout often have a hard time sleeping. Their minds race all night, and they find that they cannot settle down or get comfortable enough to drift off. If you can sleep, you may find that you are only able to sleep in short bursts and cannot sleep through a full night.

Your eating habits have changed. Some people experiencing burnout find that they lose their appetites. Others find that they begin to comfort themselves with food. Significant changes in appetite and food intake can signal a serious problem.

You feel physically ill. Being under high amounts of stress for long periods of time can destroy your health - you might find that you have a lot of symptoms with no direct physical cause, like headaches, stomach pain, nausea and body aches. You might also find that you get sick more often and get more infections as the stress wears down your immune system.

You feel like you have to drag yourself through the day. Even if you once enjoyed your job or your school, you might start to feel like even showing up is a huge chore, and dread having to go in. You might find that it takes all of your energy to even make it through the front door each day.

The good news is that burnout is not a permanent state; there are things you can do to recover. However, recovering from burnout is not necessarily easy - this is not something you can quick-fix with a self-help book, and you may need to make significant lifestyle changes. Some things you can do to fix or prevent burnout include:

Set firm boundaries. If possible, stop taking work home. Stop signing up for extra shifts and overtime every time it’s available. Don’t volunteer to organize every single office party and baby shower. Stop answering work emails after 5pm. Don’t check your email on the weekends. Don’t respond to emails on vacation. Set firm boundaries between “work time” and “me time” - especially if you work from home, where it’s easier for work and life to bleed together.

Use every minute of your paid time off. A lot of people just don’t use up all their PTO every year because they’re worried they’re letting the company down by taking vacation. Stop that. If you have vacation days, use them. Use your sick time too - if you don’t get sick that often, use them as mental health days. If you’re a student, ask professors for extensions when you’re sick - more and more professors are getting on board with cutting students some slack for life events.

Unplug from productivity culture. Our culture has a pathological obsession with productivity, and it’s killing us. We consume books and blogs and podcasts about how to squeeze as much productivity out of ourselves as possible. It has to stop. Unsubscribe from this kind of content. You don’t need to put more pressure on yourself to optimize and monetize every second of your day - it’s not healthy.

Seek support. Talk to a therapist, a doctor or a friend. Get professional help or just find people you can vent to. Try to form friendships with some of your coworkers or fellow students, especially if you work in the helping professions - they know better than anyone what you are going through.

Prioritize your physical health. When you neglect your physical health, you are more likely to burn out - you run out of fuel faster when you have less in the tank to begin with. Prioritize eating healthy meals and getting all the nutrients you need. Make a habit of exercising. Practice good sleep hygiene and try to improve your sleep.

Talk to your supervisor, advisor or boss. Are there things about your specific work or school environment that could be improved for you? Could you be transferred to a new team? Do your roles and responsibilities need to be clarified so you know exactly what is expected of you? Do you need additional training to do your job well? Are you dealing with harassment that could be reported to HR? See what can be fixed.

Consider a change. Sometimes you just need a change of pace after a while. Many social workers, for instance, eventually leave the profession - a lot of people simply have a lifetime limit on how long they can do that kind of work before they need to switch to something that doesn’t involve human horror every day. If burnout is a consistent problem, it might be time to think about taking a leave of absence, changing to a different role, or switching careers altogether.

Hope this answers your question! MM

#Anonymous #AnsweredByMM

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foolish-scribbles · 2 years

Text

Megamind but they’re in college and everyone is human and other things that come with that!

I’m terrible at titles, so when I transfer this to ao3 it’ll most likely be called something different, but I’ll post updates when that happens.

Sorry for the weird spacing, I copied and pasted from Google docs, and I’m guessing that was a rookie mistake?

Word Count: 1504

Term Papers and Microwaves of Evil (Megamind College AU)

Chapter 1

“It is with great pleasure that I write to inform you of your acceptance to the University of MetroCity.”

Blue allowed himself to breathe a sigh of relief as he read the seemingly innocuous yet life-altering words. He chuckled at the typo.

Then he looked up at Minion, or Milo Piraña as the name said on the lease, from across the counter of their shared studio apartment kitchenette, Minion, who watched with all the sweet expectation of a giant puppy looming over his significantly smaller, life-long best friend.

Blue smirked.

“I’m in, of course,” he provided, smugly.

His roommate’s hopeful eyes welled up and Blue could do nothing but watch as his poor friend broke into deep, obnoxious sobs.

The chin quivering, snot producing kind. Blue allowed the behemoth to lean his towering head against his own soon to be filthy shoulder, and took a mental note to wash the band t-shirt he was wearing later.

“What’s wrong, Little Minnow?” He asked as he patted his friend’s shoulder, awkwardly.

“I-I’m ju-hust so PROUUD OF YOMMMMMFFF!”

The younger man buried his head deeper into Blue’s shoulder and wrapped his strong prosthetic arms around their creator’s smaller frame.

Blue smiled under his weight and sighed knowingly. Then once his roommate’s surge of emotions had passed, he pushed him off and procured them some toilet paper to serve as tissues.

Minion took them all willingly and blew his nose unabashed before using his own shirt to dry the rest of his tears.

“Now talk to me like an adult, you big drama queen!” The older man chastised, playfully.

“I guess I just know that you’ll do amazing, and I’ll watch you succeed, and you won’t understand how much I’ve watched you grow,” Minions’s chin quivered slightly and the emotional volcano threatened to erupt once more, but Blue quickly interrupted.

“Grow? What are you talking about, you overgrown oaf? I’m supposed to be telling you these things, not the other way around!”

And it was true. Minion and Blue had been inseparable for a long time, but the giant was two years younger than himself and Blue had always felt responsible for him because of it. The prosthetic arms he’d designed for his friend were constant works in progress but they dated back to the summer before Blue entered high school.

The summer his grandfather and last living relative passed away.

He remembered spending weeks in his old middle school’s supposedly inaccessible robotics lab 3D printing and attaching and destroying and tinkering until Minion-his-lovable-self came to rescue him.

He didn’t like looking in mirrors back then, but when Minion tells the story, he asserts that the child genius looked worn and undead, with bloodshot eyes and stinky clothes so old and weathered, they had oil and paint stains from his knees to his neckline.

He definitely exaggerates.

It was all for him though, Blue knows.

Before the arms, there was always some teacher or assistant helping him with menial tasks that drew more attention than they were worth.

Blue had been sufficiently bullied growing up to learn that cruel middle schoolers hate things that stick out. It doesn’t matter to them whether one's oddities were a physical handicap or social maladaptation, they both became targets regardless.

It was actually how they had met.

Two outcasts hiding under the slide during recess. Blue had brought his comic books and was happy to share. The rest is history.

Minion wiped his resurgence of tears and grinned sweetly before pulling him into another brief yet tight embrace.

“You’re gonna do awesome, man,” he affirmed.

Blue knew he was right. He could never remember failing at anything he couldn’t fix in his entire life, but a parasitic thought gnawed at the back of his brain.

The thought that maybe someday soon he’d have to confront the broken thing that could never be fixed. And maybe it was him.

The weeks that followed were a whirlwind of part-time work and school shopping.

Blue was incredibly fortunate to have been taken in after that fateful summer and adopted by his best friend’s parents for his last four years as a minor, but the kicker?

They were loaded.

He had never been especially poor. Lower middle class was a better descriptor of the boy genius’ childhood. But now he knew he was far more wealthy than average.

Blue paid one-fourth of rent, per his choice, but everything else was provided for by the Pirañas.

The two years he’d spent in community college, all of his clothes, the groceries he cooked with once a week, all of his tools, and most recently, his university tuition— bought and endorsed by the Pirañas.

They loved him as their own, no doubt grateful for all of the help he provided their son, but even 6 years later it was a lot for Blue to take in.

His adoptive brother however had never lived without luxury. Their shared apartment was small and humble in comparison to the bachelor pad he had been promised for years, but the thing about Milo was that he was always willing to make sacrifices for his loved ones.

He had been the one to suggest they pay for Blue’s tuition instead of an extra two rooms a month. And he had even taken time out of his own busy student schedule to restock his best friend’s miserable closet.

The time between Blue’s acceptance and his first day of school had given them each just enough time to develop a new style for the amateur engineer.

From leather jackets, to tasteful docs, Blue was finally wearing all of the edgy dark clothing he had secretly loved as a kid. And Minion was loving every second of dressing up his friend like an enlarged Barbie doll.

Their styles were ironically inverses of each other. Minion had always loved obnoxiously bright colors and his ever-changing arms so much that he wore beachy tank tops or patterned button downs as often as possible. Blue, on the other hand, had been self-conscious about his body for a long time and liked to blend in to himself with darker colors and lots of black in general.

Nonetheless, they supported each other’s styles to the best of their ability. That is, Blue encouraged his friend verbally, and the young prince supported him with affirmation and the financial means.

The night before Blue’s big day, they had laid out an outfit for the morning.

Minion started school two weeks after him at a community college next door, another sacrifice he made for his roommate.

So there was only one set of clothes strewn out for the first time in 6 years.

The moon passing by their window caused a glint in a rhinestone of the leather jacket that felt more like a wink. The unfamiliar shape seemed to have a swagger that Blue hadn’t ever tapped into in himself. But starting tomorrow that was all going to change.

Minion was already asleep in his comically small twin XL size bed, so Blue began his nightly routine quieter than normal. He probably should have been asleep too, but as usual, he spent far more time than was needed scanning over the blueprints for his friends arms, looking for ways to improve them. None of his future plans were looking possible without a certain tool he’d been saving up for with his own money because he hated asking the Pirañas for anything, so with a heavy sigh he put the blueprints away and allowed himself a little downtime on his phone.

They say specialized marketing algorithms are created for each individual's interests. That being the case, his feed is usually filled with science videos and memes about his sexuality, one such combination catching his attention immediately.

“Ding Dong, the Prof is Dead! Will Daddy Mann Be Returning To His Alma Mater?”

It was an article with a picture of his idol, Metreaux Mann, right above the header. He read it from top to bottom and drank in every last word.

The organization was student-run and not school sanctioned in the least, so the likelihood that they were talking out of their ass was so unbelievably high. At least that's what Blue had to remember before he spent all night too excited to sleep for the coming day.

Nothing was certain, he affirmed in his thoughts.

But there were rumors that the ultra-famous prosthetics engineer would be returning to his hometown to teach at its university. The university Blue had specifically chosen to train under the same instruction as his idol and clear celebrity crush. And now he was going to be learning directly from the hunk of beautiful meat and mind himself.

It was a motherfucking dream come true.

That night he had to take some melatonin supplements to even close his eyes, but as soon as the genius had fallen asleep, he dreamt of men with abs and millions of prosthetic arms bringing him a leather jacket and a sly smile.

Gorgeous and full of promise.

#megamind #college au #minion #roxanne ritchi #metroman #megamind x roxanne #fanfic

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step-on-me-natasha · 3 years

Text

Blade; chapter 3

summary: Parker "Blade" Wiles, a high ranking SHIELD agent with an aptitude for sharp objects, goes missing. When Blade is found again with a darker and colder demeanor, SHIELD, with the help of The Avengers, are tasked with finding out what happened to their colleague and friend.

OC is ace and uses they/them pronouns

pairing: Natasha Romanoff x OC! reader

warnings: needles (IVs), let me know if there are any others

RECAP:

“I'm doing the thing Florence Wiles could never do.” The room went silent. All the lab assistants stopped working. Everyone just stared at the two of you.

“Knock her out and put em’ under, I don't have time for this.” Madam barks and for the second time that day, everything went black.

*Meanwhile at the Avengers Compound

After the mission, the rest of the team got off the jet while Natasha stayed behind. Still in your seat, her eyes scan the room and land on your journal. She chuckles to herself because only you would have a bright purple journal. She knows she shouldn’t look through it but she does anyway. As she’s reading through the two entries, her vision starts to get blurry. She wipes her eyes and stands up and walks off the jet straight to her room.

“Hey Nat! How’d-”

“Not now Clint.” She snaps. She practically runs to her room and slams the door as she starts to cry. She sits down at her desk, turns to the next blank page in the journal, finds a pen and starts writing.

Hi Blade, it’s Nat, I know when you see this, because you will see it, that you’ll probably be mad at me for snooping but it was something i felt i needed to do. Your last words to me before you disappeared were “dont worry about me, I got this.” and part of me believed it. Foolish of me. I should’ve stayed with you. I know you're strong and capable and smart and you’ve been in a situation like that before, but god damnit I should’ve gone with you! Bucky thinks it's HYDRA, Tony thinks it's what's left of the Red Room. Men, ugh, So dumb. HYDRA has been wiped off the face of the earth and the Red Room is, as i said, retired widows living the life they deserved. I think it's something or rather someone else. Who it is, I don't know. But enough of this, I'm not here to write about who took you, I don't know why I'm writing. But, and I quote, “here goes nothing.”

The first day you walked into the compound, scowling face and all, I knew something was special about you. You stormed into the conference room, like you always do, and plopped in the chair you claimed your own. When everyone else joined you in the room you didn’t even look up until someone said your name and coughed. You stood up, said your name was Blade and sat back down. It was pretty funny if Steve “stick up his ass” Rogers wasn’t in the room. Something, I think Clint, said to “show your power” or something like that, and you walked out of the room and everyone followed you to the new high tech training room. You then found a bow staff, broke it in half, had Tony load the most advanced training sequence. You set a record, with the broken staff, in that training session, curtsied, and walked out the room.

Anyways, that's not what this is about, I wanted to write this to let you know that we, the team, are here for you. We care about you. I care about you. So, on that note, you better get your ass back here so we can eat some garlic bread and watch some shitty reality TV.

Love, Natahsa

She stares at her note for a little while, thinking about what she could’ve done to save you, to have you here with her. But instead of you being with the team, with her, you quite possibly, could be dead. She can’t think about that right now. She wipes her tears, closes the journal and gets ready to take a shower. After her shower she gets dressed in shorts, a hoodie and a pair of fuzzy socks. She makes her way out of her room to get something to eat while Clint slides in front of her.

“What's up with you? You got Barnes' broody scowl going on.” He says with a mouthful of food.

“That's cold Clint”

“shut up Barnes, you know it’s true.” He shouted back. “Anyways, seriously, is something wrong?”

“They’re gone Clint. They are gone and we don't know where they are.”

“Who?”

“Are you fucking serious Clint? Blade! Blade is gone! And we have no clue where they are or if they're alive! And you're making jokes right now?!” Her eyes start watering again.

“Oh no Nat, I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I didn't know Blade was missing, I thought I saw them walk in.” He says as he pulls her into a hug.

At that moment, Nat lets herself cry. She balls up the front of his shirt and just breaks down. “They’re gone, Clint, and I don't know what to do!” She says through her tears.

“Nat what do you need me to do? Let me help.”

“Find her Clint! Unbreak your arm and fucking find her!’ She cries.

*At the old HYDRA base

After the group of scientists knock you out, again, they put you in an armoured truck, with many following behind, to transfer you from this old base to the new MYST headquarters.

“Madam, what are we supposed to do with the new asset?”

“Tie them up. And make sure that it’s secured, we don't need it escaping again.” Madam orders.

The ride is long and bumpy and these scientists have been pumping you full of fluids and unknown liquids. Pull up to a gate with a pin pad. Madam gets out, puts a passcode in and the gates open up. They pass through the threshold and into what looks like a parking garage. They park the truck and roll you out.

“Hey, hey what's going on?” You say as you start to wake up.

“Ugh, someone take care of this! They woke up again!” Madam yells.

“Hey, no hey! Let's not do this again!” You say.

“That's not an option sweetheart”

“And why is that? Huh? I don't know what you want, other than a winter soldier”

“I want what HYDRA took from me.” She says “Knock her out and start over! We will begin testing strength tomorrow morning!” Madam says as she walks away.

“God, what a bitch.” a scientist mutters under her breath. Heh heh, I like this one.

“I know, at least you're not the one tied to a bed” You say back.

She gasps, “you weren’t supposed to hear that” “Well, I am a well trained spy and assassin, you learn how to pick up on small sounds.” you chuckle.

“Yeah well, still.” She says harshly. “Youre only here for one thing, and it’s my job not to fuck that up, so you weren’t supposed to hear that.” She says as she injects you with more unknown liquid.

You wake up in a new room, tied to a bed this time. Upgrades people, upgrades. Your eyes scan the room and land on two IVs dripping; one blue and one purple. I am going to die here.

“Ahh, you're awake.” Your head snaps to the right.

“Super soldier serum,” She nodded towards the IVs. “Whatever was left of what HYDRA perfected it, I got the last of it when it fell in 2014.” Madam starts.

“What's that purple shit?” You interrupt.

“That purple shit? Really? I've been working on that for years and the best you can do is ‘that purple shit’? Really?” A small scientist comes out from behind Madam.

“Oh sorry, I should be more sensitive, what is that weird ass purple liquid that is being pumped into me?”

“You're a rude person.”

“Yeah well, I'm currently strapped to a bed with strange liquid being pumped into me. I'm obviously not thrilled about it!” You shout.

“Okay, enough! You two are children!'' Madam yells. Children (derogatory).

“The purple stuff is a concentrated metabolism booster. It makes you heal 3x faster than just the super soldier serum. It makes you basically invincible.”

“Oh cool, does it give me laser eyes like Superman too?” wrong universe, shit.

“You are insufferable!” The small scientist exclaims.

“Thanks, it’s my main character trait.” You sass back.

“Oh my god, shut up already!” Madam yells. “Dr. Nichols, you go prep the room while I handle the new asset.” New asset? Get a better name.

You roll your eyes and scoff as the small scientist storms out of the room.

“Got something to say sweetheart?”

“No no, you do your thing”

“In about-” She checks her watch, “10-15 minutes, you’ll have a small device inserted into the back of your neck, specifically at the base of your skull.”

“Sounds painful”

“It is. The device will expand and it will attach to your brain, causing me to be in control.”

oh shit.

“Cat got your tongue sweetheart?” You stay silent. “Well, nice chat! I'll see you later!”

She leaves the room as your eyes start to water. Oh my god. There is no way I'm getting out of this. As you sit there, waiting for what’s going to come next, nats face pops into your head. And the fact that there is a chance that you’ll never see her again, talk to her, touch her again, makes the tears threatening to fall, fall.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff fluff #Natasha Romanoff x ace!raeder #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha x reader #black widow x reader #black widow fluff #black widow #black widow x ace!reader #black widow imagine #marvel x reader #marvel x ace!reader

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happyandticklish · 3 years

Text

The Problems with Legilimency

Notes: For the anon request. This is so fucking late because writer’s block is a bitch, but I hope you enjoy it regardless! ^^ I sort of took my own spin on the request, but I think it’s fairly similiar to the original.

Summary: Two times in which Queenie’s Legilimency became a problem, and once when it kind of helped.

“Newt!”

The sound of his name strung along by that familiar voice sent a peculiar thrill through Newt’s person. He never grew tired of hearing it. He spun carefully around, an Occamy curled in his grasp; its tiny head poked curiously out from under his arm. “Yes?”

Tina stood puzzled back in his lab, hands placed upon her hips as she examined one of the shelves. “It’s not here. That herb you were looking for. I swear I saw it when we first came in here…”

That was odd. Newt was usually very meticulous about his placement system. He deposited the Occamy gently back into their nest, though the task provided some difficulty as the creature attempted to weave through his arms to reach him once more. Eventually though, hands free, he made his way over to where Tina stood.

In the space where a small bottle of rare herbs should have been, there was nothing but empty space. “You didn’t move it somewhere?” Newt asked, his tone inquisitive rather than angry. He began rearranging bottles around it, wondering if it had simply gotten misplaced.

Tina shook her head. “I turned my back and it was gone. It’s not…” she hesitated. “…supposed to do that, is it? I mean, it doesn’t have some kind of magical property to it, does it?”

Newt laughed, the quiet chuckle of an inside joke. “No, no need to worry about that. It does contain magical properties, though they are rendered quite harmless in its current form. Aha!” He grinned, his voice filled with soft triumph. “I believe we have found our culprit.”

Pickett stood frozen where Newt had revealed him, a bottle clutched tightly in his arms. His eyes widened, and quickly he tried to scramble away from them. Unfortunately, his efforts to get away from Newt only brought him into Tina’s awaiting hands, who held him up carefully as she lifted him into the air.

“Nice work, Tina,” Newt said, a hint of pride entering his tone. Seeing two of his favorite creatures in the world interact always brought him a strange joy. “Be careful when extracting the bottle from him; he can be difficult when he wants to be.”

“Oh, um, yes, of course.” Tina seemed more doubtful of her abilities, holding the creature out carefully as though one of two of them was going to accidentally hurt each other. She attempted to gently wrestle the bottle out of his hands, but, seeing her intentions, Pickett was quick to intervene. He wrapped his arms tightly around it, and when she attempted to nudge him off with her finger, he only transferred his hold to her as devious inspiration struck him.

Tina yelped, her heart catching a little in her throat. Though she admired Newt for his love for these creatures, she still found herself a bit wary when it came to actually interacting with them. Newt himself seemed unworried by this development, a smile tugging reluctantly at his lips, like a parent attempting to be disappointed with their child but ultimately unable to help their amusement.

“P-Pickett,” she started, her voice wavering a little at the uncertainty of talking to the tiny being. “I’m going to need you to let go now, if that’s alright; we need those ingredients for medicine—your medicine, I might add.”

Pickett was unbothered, clambering onto her finger fully now and beginning to scramble up her arm rapidly. Tina jerked back in surprise, the sensation of his little arms and feet crawling on her skin igniting a long forgotten sensation.

“Newt!” she called anxiously, tossing him a quick glance.

“Don’t worry about him,” he assured her. “He’s completely harmless—it’s only him who likes to think he’s tougher than he is.”

“B-But he’s—ah!” Tina felt a fluttery laugh escape her as Pickett reached her shoulder, poking around and exploring the area curiously, brushing up against her neck. “E-Ehe, w-wait!”

“What’s all the noise down here?”

The two startled at the sudden appearance of Queenie, her curls framing her face in its innocent curiosity as she stepped off the stairs. Evidently, neither of them had noticed her descent in the confusion of the misplaced bottle.

“Tina was just helping me create a new batch of medicine for the Bowtruckles,” Newt explained quickly, an odd nervousness entering his voice at the two of them being caught alone. He felt the unnecessary need to clarify their presence there. “When a bottle, it—well it went missing, but it was fine as Pickett here—”

“Of course it tickles,” Queenie interrupted, her voice directed affectionately in the direction of Tina. Newt started, those words being one of the last things he expected to leave her mouth. “There’s no need to get all worked up about it.”

“What?”

Tina stiffened and flushed as Newt’s gaze swiveled to her, focusing on Pickett who continued his exploration of her neck and shoulders with an unapologetic joy. He narrowed his eyes at the pesky creature, who startled at the sudden attention he was receiving and hid quickly under Tina’s collar.

Newt lurched forward, ready to remove him, but his hands paused inches away from Tina, where they hovered uncertainly over her neck. “Can I—that is, do you mind if I—”

“Yes!” Tina agreed, her voice a little too eager in her embarrassment. Quickly but carefully, Newt managed to remove the critter, allowing him to cling moodily to his finger as he pulled away.

Queenie smiled fondly at them, shaking her head a little at their antics. “Honestly,” she said as Newt tucked the errant Bowtruckle into his pocket. “There’s no need to get so worked up about it; it’s just tickling.”

“How did you—”

“Legilimens,” Queenie replied, arching a brow with a sly grin. “Or have you forgotten?”

“Oh. Right.” Newt fussed needlessly over Pickett, adjusting and re-adjusting him as he continued to avoid their gazes. Pickett himself bucked against the attention, batting in annoyance at his fingers. “Um, if you don’t mind, we were in the middle of something if we could return to that.”

“Oh.” Queenie shook her head at herself. “Of course.” There was something in her eyes that said she knew Newt’s true reason for wanting her gone, but for reasons unknown to Newt but that he was nonetheless grateful for, she declined revealing. “I’ll leave you two alone them.”

She whirled gracefully up the stairs, her silk robe fluttering lightly behind her along with her steps. It was only once she was gone that Newt allowed himself to exhale, turning to face Tina. “Are you alright?”

But Tina had already turned away from him, and was wholly engaged in the process of chopping up the retrieved ingredients as Newt had shown her earlier. The tips of her ears were tinged a dark pink, and her hair fell forward in her face, easily hiding her expression from the other.

Newt would have pursued the issue further, had he not been just as grateful to drop the subject at hand. For some reason, this new piece of knowledge about Tina stuck in his brain, a strange concoction of nerves and excitement lighting up his chest. The sudden feelings were too difficult to parse then and there, however, and Newt turned to the counter as well, making sure to stand a couple feet away as he directed her on the next steps.

“Now you want to grind it, into a fine powder.”

“Oh.”

The word was a startled little gasp, and it drew both Tina and Newt out of the world they had previously been lost in. Newt jerked away from her instantly, releasing her skin as though it were suddenly made of hot iron. Tina’s face was flushed, the remnants of laughter dancing in her smile. Less than a minute before, Newt’s fingers had been engaged in the process of reducing her into a state of flushed laughter. Now, however, he kept his hands firmly shoved in his pockets, far removed from where they could have any kind of effect on anyone.

After Queenie had accidentally revealed Tina’s secret a couple weeks ago, Newt had found himself unable to stop finding ways to accidentally tickle her in the hopes to see that unexpected smile light up her face once more. After a while, it became less accidental, though if Tina noticed, she chose not to say anything. There was hardly any excuse for that evening, however. It was only that Tina had chosen to stretch her arms above her head moments before and Newt could hardly be blamed for what happened afterwards.

Both appeared heavily embarrassed to have been caught in such a state, and it wasn’t just Newt this time who was having trouble making eye contact.

Queenie smiled, a gentle, reassuring gesture. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you. I just wanted to inform you both that dinner was ready. Although it seems you two are rather… preoccupied, at the moment.”

Newt cleared his throat, coughed awkwardly, and cleared his throat once more, clearly having difficulty coming up with words. “Sorry, we were just—that is to say—I was—”

“Tickling my sister,” Queenie answered for him, appearing unbothered by both the word and the subject. “It’s alright, you don’t have to apologize. I didn’t mean to intrude; it’s just that you were being quite loud.”

Tina’s brow furrowed as she readjusted herself on the bed; she was putting forth a failing attempt to make herself appear anymore dignified than the state in which she’d been interrupted. “How could you possibly have? We were—that is, we were trying to be quiet.”

“Thoughts speak louder than words,” Queenie quoted, though there was a truthful undertone to it that spoke of the embarrassing reality of having a Legilimens as a sister.

“Ah,” Tina said, visibly flustered. “Well.”

“Right,” Newt agreed eagerly, though it was unclear what either of them was agreeing on.

Queenie offered them a knowing look, before finally turning around to head back downstairs. “Alright then, I’ll leave you two alone. But be sure to come down soon; you wouldn’t want dinner to get cold.”

She paused at the doorknob, however, and turned suddenly back around. “Oh, and Newt?”

“Yes?”

“Her worst spot is her knees. Just in case you were wondering. Anyways.” With that, Queenie flounced from the room, her innocent air a betrayal of the words she’d just spoken.

The two of them sat frozen on the bed, both of them waiting for the other to make the first move. There wasn’t exactly protocol for this kind of thing.

After a while Tina groaned, dropping her head into her heads. “Sometimes I truly abhor my sister.”

“She can be quite… blunt,” Newt agreed. He found his gaze drawn now to her legs, swung carelessly over the bed. Queenie’s words played over and over in his mind, and before he knew what he was doing he had reached out and experimentally squeezed her knee.

Tina yelped, her hands flying from her face to shove at his arms quickly. “Don’t,” she warned, but there was a lightness to the warning that implied maybe she didn’t mean it as much as she said. A reluctant smile tugged at her lips, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Newt, please, this isn’t—”

“Fair?” he finished softly, squeezing again to hear that adorable squeal. Her hands flailed uselessly for a moment before fisting in the sheets, keeping herself from fully shoving him off.

“Newt,” she gasped, the words filled with anticipation and a giddy nervousness that prompted Newt to quickly enact a repeat of earlier, his hands flying as he wrecked her once more. Her laughter rung in his ears, wild and carefree, and he found he would do anything to hear that sound, even for a moment longer.

Eventually he relented, as dinner really was getting cold. However, he found an odd disappointment setting in when she merely stood up afterwards and headed over to the door, albeit more out of breath than before. Before he had time to dissect that feeling, the two were called once more for dinner in slightly harsher tones, and they quickly rushed down the stairs in an effort not to induce the other’s wrath at having to wait for them.

“Nehehehewt!” Tina gasped, batting uselessly at his hands as they scribbled mercilessly over her stomach. “Plehehehease!”

The two were curled up on the couch, having retreated there for the night while Queenie and Jacob were out on an evening for two. In the beginning the two had simply watched movies, Tina propped up against the other so that her head rested on his shoulder. Movies had been Newt’s idea, a Muggle concept that he had found fascinating. Moving pictures on a screen without the use of magic…. Tina had scoffed at the idea, but even she had to admit that it was pretty amazing seeing it in person. The TV had been a purchase made by Queenie, who had decided to invest after seeing how drawn in the two had been after returning from the theaters.

After a while, however, Newt had once again found his interests caught by a different form of entertainment, that of Tina’s startled shriek when he accidentally squeezed her side whilst adjusting himself. Moments later, Tina had her back pressed against his chest as she attempted to curl in on herself and evade the ticklish hug Newt was administering.

It was truly a wonder how they kept arriving here.

“Please what?” Newt asked, his lips quirking up into that rare teasing smile that Tina both hated and loved dearly. “You’ll have to be more specific.”

“Plehehehease stahahahap!” she giggled, her legs drawing up to her chest as she attempted to protect herself. “Ihihihi—ahahah, ihihit tihihickles! Nehehewt!”

“Alright, alright.” Newt relented, merely resting his hands on her stomach now and rubbing calming circles. “You know, you’re quite cute laughing like that; you should do it more often.”

“I already do it enough, thanks to you,” she replied with a wry grin, her words coming out in an exhausted huff as she fought to regain her breath back. “I don’t understand why you insist on doing it so often.”

“I believe he wants you to return the favor.”

The two startled, Tina letting out a startled yelp as a dark crimson flooded Newt’s cheeks, and they both turned to see Queenie standing at the doorway. Evidently, the two had just returned.

“Q-Queenie,” Newt stammered, with the intent of replying some kind of denial, but Jacob popped his head around her shoulder before he could, viewing the scene curiously.

“What favor? Oh hey, is that Felix the Cat?” Jacob quickly made his way over to them, taking a seat on the couch besides them.

“He what?” Tina repeated, ignoring Jacob and focusing her attention back on Queenie.

Queenie set her purse down, delicately taking a seat besides them. The couch was growing crowded by this point, but none of them appeared to care in the moment. “He wants you to tickle him back.” She paused after a moment, her eyes widening a little. “Oh. Sorry. I didn’t realize it was a secret.”

Newt’s face was permanently burned a color as red as his hair. His mouth was open on a theoretical protest, though it was clear it was too late for that. Eventually, he merely averted his gaze, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “It’s, ah, it’s okay. You didn’t mean to, I know.”

Tina glanced between the two, trying to gather what had just happened. Jacob was the first to speak, raising one eyebrow. “You like being tickled, Newt?”

“I—” Newt started, his voice stuttering and stopping in his throat. He coughed, gripping the back of his neck tightly. Three pairs of eyes were suddenly focused on him, and while Newt didn’t prefer eye contact at the best of times, the awkwardness of the situation certainly did not help anything. Against his better judgement, his flicked his gaze up to meet Tina’s, anxiety getting the better of him. Her eyes were wide with surprise, which he had anticipated. What he had not expected was the tiny smile slowly tugging at her lips, a gentleness to the expression that made Newt’s heart clench in his chest. Ultimately, it was what prompted him to finally find the words to speak again.

“I—uh, yes. That is, I do. Like. To be tickled.” He cleared his throat again, staring at his lap. He tugged at the hem of his shirt, rhythmically pulling at a loose string to distract himself from the panic roiling in his brain. In the background, the TV hummed, though it was clear none of them were paying attention to it anymore.

After what felt like an eternity to him, but was in actuality only around thirty seconds, Jacob piped up, “Well why didn’t you just say so?”

Newt’s head snapped up, his heart slamming against his chest. “What?”

“Yeah,” Queenie agreed, a grin rushing quickly across her features. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of. It’s just another part of you.”

He felt someone grab his hand and he looked over to see Tina, her face filled with such overwhelming tenderness that he couldn’t help but smile slightly in return. “I love you, Newt. Which means I love making you happy. And if this is what makes you happy, than I’m happy to do so.”

Newt glanced around at the three of them, people who he had grown to love and care about more than he had allowed himself to with others in quite a long time. A tiny bubble of happiness rose in his chest, trapping his throat and making words impossible.

“Do you…” Tina started, before trying again, this time with more confidence. “Do you want us to tickle you? Now, that is.”

Newt flushed, the color spreading to the tips of his ears. He stammered, sentences tripping over themselves in his mouth, before he finally managed a quiet, “Yes. Only if you want to, of course.”

Jacob poked him lightly in the ribs and he jumped, a startled yelp escaping him. “Of course, buddy. After all, what kind of friends would we be if we didn’t help you smile every once in a while?”

Newt opened his mouth to respond, but his words were quickly lost to a flood of giggles as all three of them pounced at once, reducing him into a mess of squirming limbs.

Maybe Legilimency wasn’t so bad, after all.

#tickle fic #fantastic beasts and where to find them #tickling #newtina #newt scamander #tina goldstein #queenie goldstein #jacob kowalski #fanfic #fanfiction #fic request #requests #harry potter #hp #fbawtft #jakweenie

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buck-buck-boose · 3 years

Text

I'll Love You 'Til I Die

Masterlist | Playlist

Summary: A Brooklyn schoolgirl fell in love with James Buchanan Barnes at the tender age of nine. With this love she made a vow, promising to love him until her very last breath.

Pairing: Bucky x OFC

Warnings: Language, mild descriptions of injuries

Word Count: 2.3k

Author's Note: My apologies, writer's block got the best of me.

Chapter Twenty-Two: The European Theater

June 11, 1943

Lottie’s heart was restless and mournful once more, with every beat she couldn’t help but notice the splinters and cracks that had webbed their way across its surface. Without her two best friends, she could never be completely whole. She put on a strong, clinical face, of course, but there were countless times that her emotional turmoil seemed as real as any wound she’d become accustomed to treating. Months had passed since Dr. Erskine’s assassination. It had been months since she’d been relieved of her duties on Project Rebirth. Months since she’d been torn away from Steve. One year, five months, and twenty-nine days since she’d stood on a train platform, watching as Bucky faded from view.

It had been a rather grim day when she’d received orders that she would be shipped out to London with the SSR. The morning after Dr. Erskine’s tragic death, she and her peers had been summoned to take blood samples from Steve; they were under the impression that it was for continued research purposes. The five of them had been exhausted, nearly asleep on their feet from staying awake all night. They’d tried to sleep at first, but all attempts were abandoned when all they could see was the lifeless body of their mentor every time they shut their eyes. They had held a silent vigil, nestled in their own beds with wide eyes, waiting anxiously for daybreak.

Once their duties had been completed, they followed Steve into the dimly lit central command room of the SSR. The room had been buzzing with energy, with agents milling about and Howard Stark in the midst of it all, tinkering away at some machine. Lottie had looked to Agent Carter, expecting new orders regarding blood sample analysis and re-developing the serum by studying Steve’s cellular structure; Colonel Phillips came along to crush her hopes of continued research.

“As of this morning, the SSR has been re-tasked,” Colonel Phillips began, his gaze firm on the nurses, “The president has ordered us to eliminate Hydra on the front lines. Project Rebirth had been officially shut down, and as employees of the Strategic Scientific Reserve, you ladies will be flying out on a new assignment with us.”

Nancy was the first to protest, “But sir, you said you wanted an army of Super Soldiers—”

Colonel Phillips held up a hand to silence her, “Ms. Powell, we are in the thick of a war, we don’t have the time or the money to redevelop a serum. You are all under contract with the SSR; these are your orders. We’re flying to London tonight.”

All that the nurses could do was look from each other to Agent Carter, who graced them with a small, sad smile. She’d just received the orders as well; it must have been somewhat of a surprise for her.

“What about Steve? He’ll be joining us, right?” Colonel Phillips stiffened slightly at her familiarity with the Super Soldier, most SSR agents accepted their strong bond, but Colonel Phillips never wavered in his beliefs regarding the relationships between soldiers and their nurses.

“Given that Rogers is our only Super Soldier, he is an extremely valuable asset, not one to be thrown willy-nilly into a war. He’ll be staying stateside while we handle the dirty work overseas. Senator Brandt has offered Rogers a promotion, which he's already accepted.”

Frustration bubbled in Lottie’s chest, “So we spent over a year slaving away in that lab and creating the perfect serum for your Super Soldier just for you to toss our hard work aside? He is perfectly capable of being on the front lines!”

The thought of Steve being sent into the belly of the beast that was Hydra had almost made Lottie sick, but the thought of her hard work going to waste agitated her to no end. Going to war was quite literally what he'd been made for, this was the goal from the get-go.

“Ms. Green, we know perfectly well what Rogers is capable of. He has exactly what it takes to carry out his mission here in the states flawlessly.” He dismissed them without waiting for a response, reminding them to “Be ready for takeoff at twenty-one hundred hours.”

The rest of that day had been a flurry of hurried goodbyes and the packing up of what little belongings they’d brought with them. Letting go of Steve was nearly impossible. They bade each other farewell on the runway, the airplane stood in front of them in all of its aluminum glory, moonbeams bouncing off of its surface.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this to you all over again.” Lottie’s gaze was sorrowful, focused on her sturdy black shoes. She couldn’t bring herself to look him in the eye; his eyes always bore through her with an intensity she couldn’t handle at the moment.

“Hey, at least I’ll actually know where you’re going this time,” Steve half-joked. He nudged her foot with his own to draw her attention upward. His face had grown serious, “While you’re over there, make sure you keep an eye out for Bucky, alright? I haven’t gotten any word on where he is, but he’s with the hundred and seventh.”

Lottie knit her brows together and memorized the number. One hundred and seventh. One hundred and seventh. She would have to fight tooth and nail, climb every mountain and ford every stream, just to find James Buchanan Barnes once more.

But at the moment, she had to fight tooth and nail to get this Italian to sit still so she could properly disinfect and stitch his shrapnel-inflicted wound.

Shortly after their arrival in London, the SSR had shipped out to a base in Tunisia from which they could aid in Allied campaigns along the southern coast of Italy; there were plans to capture Sicily, but first, the Allied powers needed to station themselves on surrounding islands. So, they found themselves on the minuscule island of Pantelleria.

Unfortunately, the surrender of the island to the Allied powers was only achieved through 19 days of aerial bombardment. Lottie, her peers, and a small band of fresh-faced nurses had been left to deal with the casualties.

The mousy-haired nurse stood before a bedridden, red-faced man, whose plump fingers were wrapped around his thigh in an attempt to compress his wound. Lottie was armed with her newly acquired Italian-to-English dictionary, penicillin, bandages, and all that was needed to stitch up his wounds. She flipped through the pages of the dictionary; her mouth set in a firm line.

“Bisogno,” she began, gesturing to his freely flowing wound, “Pulire e cucire. Io aiuto.”

Half a dozen other nurses had attempted the same thing, all had offered to treat him, but the man had treated them all with the same oafish aggression that he was showing her.

“A fanabla! Non ho bisogno del tuo aiuto.” He used his free hand to wave her off, spittle spewing from his lips due to his intensely glottal speech. The movement of his deep brown eyes, how they flickered to and fro, indicated his increasing agitation in such a high-stress environment. Lottie genuinely understood his hesitation to accept her help; he and his kinfolk had just spent the past nineteen days trying to survive a deluge of attacks from the Allied forces. Why should he accept help from the very people who nearly destroyed their island?

Lottie gritted her teeth and tightened her grip on her dictionary, “Prego, signore!” For once, she wished that Nancy would show up out of the blue to push her aside and take matters into her own hands, but there were far too many injuries for multiple nurses to work on the same patient at once.

“Lasciami in pace, cretina!” He growled, flinging his free hand out to knock her tray of supplies aside. Lottie stabilized the tray on his bedside table before any supplies could become contaminated, no way in hell was she going to spend another fifteen minutes re-sterilizing those damn syringes.

She’d about had it with the man. If she transferred him to another nurse, the SSR would surely doubt her abilities as a well-established nurse. Lottie would surely deal with more aggressive soldiers on the front lines. Forgoing any sort of decorum or professionalism, she pinned his free wrist down to the cot with her right hand, “Io aiuto. O tu morire.” The foreign words were awkward on her tongue and she didn’t sound nearly as assertive as she’d wished, but the Italian man finally gave in, grumbling what was probably an assortment of curses at her.

Lottie made quick work of removing the shrapnel that had embedded itself into the man’s skin in muscle. It was relatively easy, as she’d had enough practice that morning, dealing with what felt like dozens of injuries just like his. When the island had finally been surrendered, a bevy of nurses and medics had been flown in, Lottie and her peers included.

The Cadet Nurse Corps’ newly initiated training programs had been quite beneficial for such circumstances, but with such accelerate courses of study, many of the nurses were inexperienced and uncertain in their abilities. Thus, most of the morning was spent overseeing the work of the newer nurses; the advice was administered when needed and tasks were delegated to the older nurses when stitches were too tight and fingers too shaky.

The Italian man’s wound was just one of many, at this point. The only remarkable aspect of the interaction was his temperament. Sure, many other islanders had expressed distrust and dismay with the Allied forces, but they had at least been more eager to be treated for their injuries.

“Fatto presto, signore,” she murmured as she began the careful work of stitching his lacerations shut. Her Italian was dreadful, comprised entirely of juvenile phrases and briefly memorized words that could just barely communicate her intentions to her patients. She knew that she probably looked to be a bumbling idiot in their perspectives.

By the time she was finished, nearly every inch of her skin was damp with sweat— although the medic tent provided shade from the sun, its heat, combined with the body heat of so many civilians seemed to suffocate her. The air was thick, her curls clung to the nape of her neck, and her once crisp white dress had become damp and splotched with various hues of orange and blood, remnants of blood and dust.

The former nurses of Project Rebirth remained close, even after the termination of their research, they were often found huddled in one corner of the nurse’s tent, playing cards and smoking, or whispering gossip of their next assignment.

“How long do you think they’re gonna keep us here?” Mary glanced over the edge of her letter, looking to Gladys expectantly. Gladys was always in the know with these sorts of things, keeping quiet and listening in around the higher-ranking officers.

Gladys hummed in thought, rolling an unlit cigarette between her fingers, “From what I’ve heard, we might be heading toward mainland Italy soon. But I’m not sure.”

Lottie frowned, “But what about Operation Husky? I mean, we just bombed this damn place for a good base to capture Sicily.”

“Well, I’ve heard there’s a Hydra base on the mainland. These girls might stay behind for Operation Husky, but we’re better prepared for whatever Hydra has in store for us.”

Betty groaned, “I don’t care where they send us, so long as the soldiers aren’t great louts like these guys.” Lottie had to agree, the soldiers stationed with them in Tunisia and on Pantelleria had been rather uncouth. They drank far too heavily most nights, which typically resulted in uncomfortable interactions between the men and the nurses.

A voice piped up from the other end of the nurse’s tent, a girl of only around 19— her name might have been Nelly —smiled at them brightly over a newspaper, “Well wherever you go, I hope you get to see a USO show because I’d give anything to see Captain America!”

“Sorry, who?” The name was somewhat familiar to Lottie, but she and the other women had never shown particular interest in the USO. All that she knew was that their shows usually had chorus girls all dressed in short skirts and red lipstick, just what a soldier needed to see after what seemed like an eternity in hell.

Nelly ambled over and tossed her newspaper onto Betty’s bed, which the women usually crowded around. None of the women spoke as they took in the headline: “The Star-Spangled Man’s European Tour.”

“What the hell?” Betty broke the silence and held the newspaper up to the light, squinting at its front page. The mouths of the other four nurses were agape, they were at a loss for words as they processed the fact that the culmination of their hard work was being brandished as some sort of cheery mascot for the war effort.

Lottie felt a righteous anger building within her. It was one thing to separate her from one of her best friends for the sake of pursuing separate missions, but this? This was a joke. Laughable, really. She could only think of the late nights, the early mornings, every moment of their time at Camp Lehigh had been dedicated to perfecting the Super Soldier serum. Now that they had their Super Soldier, they decided to waste his talent and their hard work. It was a slap in the face, a punch to the gut. Lottie could only hope that Steve would be reassigned after his European tour; he was destined to be more than just a show pony, she was sure of it.

#40s!bucky x original female character #40s!bucky x ofc #40s!bucky #40s!bucky x reader #1940s bucky #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky x ofc #bucky barnes imagine #bucky imagine #bucky fic #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky fanfic #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction

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holdyourbreathfornow · 3 years

Note

OOOO 49 with romantic coomer and bubby :D

49. Giving them a tight hug that makes them lose their breath.

Put this under a read-more to save space! Hope you like it, Lovelace!

You can also find this on my AO3 under the same username!

Harold isn’t expecting for someone to be in his office when he gets to work that morning. He turns the corner to his office and the first thing he notices is the pattern on the ground caused by light shining through the wired glass. His guard up, Harold readjusts his grip on his suitcase so he can use the thing like a club, and heads for the door.

A scientist he doesn’t recognize sits in one of his guest chairs, examining their finger nails, and he figures they must need to see him about something. Some of the tension drains from him and he makes as much casual noise as possible opening the door, so he doesn’t startle his unexpected guest like they startled him.

The scientist shifts their gaze from their nails to Harold as he enters the room, but otherwise doesn’t acknowledge his presence in anyway as he sets his briefcase down and shrugs his own labcoat on.

“I apologize for keeping you waiting! I didn’t know anyone was waiting for me this morning.” Harold finally says, plastering his best customer service smile on and extending a hand to his guest. Their grip is barely there as they shake his hand, and they wait until he hesitantly sits down to speak.

“I don’t mind waiting, Dr. Coomer. Sometimes our profession requires a bit of patience, wouldn’t you say?” The scientist smiles, but something it seems… Fake, like they’re testing him on something, though he has no idea what.

“This job has certainly helped me practice that particular virtue, yes.” He agrees, slowly and carefully changing his genial smile into a look of confusion. “If you don’t mind my asking, what exactly have you come to see me about?”

“One of the projects in Experimental Biology, specifically one that you seem to have… Befriended, as odd as that is. B-U-88-Y, I believe, should be the identifying tag.”

“...What about xem.” Harold does his best not to seem too affected by the question, but he knows he’s failed when the scientist’s lip twitches minutely, finding amusement in his sudden worry.

“Well, since the two of you were so buddy buddy, I’ve been tasked with informing you that that project’s been disbanded.” When Harold freezes, the scientist cocks their head in confusion. “Dr. Coomer? Are you alright?”

“So, then… Then what will they do with the old project?”

“Oh. Oh, Dr. Coomer, I think you’re concerned over nothing. The project’s only been disbanded because the higher ups figured that the goal’s been accomplished. Even if I always personally thought B-U-88-Y was far from perfect, the final say was never mine.” The scientist watches as Harold sags with relief, and they blink in bemusement. “Xe even has xer own lab now, if you’d like the room designation code.”

“Please.” Harold mutters and the scientist nods, fishing a pen out of a pocket and snatching a pack of Post-Its off of Harold’s desk. “Thank you. For letting me know.”

“Well, the security sector tipped me off to how often you visited.” The scientist mumbles as they write, distracted. “Seems that that group of goons were really rooting for the two of you, much as they could with no audio on those cameras. I was cornered by some very concerned guards this morning, talking about how they felt you should be informed that the lab hosting the B-U-88-Y project was being refurbished so you didn’t walk into a completely new project and think the worst.”

“I’ll have to send them a fruit basket.” Harold chuckles and that makes the scientist snort, ripping the Post-It away from the pack and planting it on Harold’s desk.

“Yes, it seems a fair number of us were rooting for you.” They stand to leave and Harold stands as well as soon as his brain registers what they just said.

“Wait, who all do you mean by ‘us’?”

The only answer he gets is an echoing laugh as the scientist continues on down the hallway.

As soon as he has a spare moment, Harold picks up the Post-It still clinging to his desk and heads for the room number listed on it. Bubby’s new lab is in the astronomy sector, and Harold smiles at all the star charts and pictures of other planets’ surfaces. At least Bubby’s found a group just as interested in outer space as xe is.

Speaking of the devil, Harold finally finds the room that matches the number he’s been hunting for. The door doesn’t have a window for him to look into but he can see light filtering out from under it. Harold’s quick to knock on the door, though instead of waiting for an answer, he tries the handle and find it’s unlocked.

Bubby stands in the middle of the room, obviously having been on xer way to see what the knocking was all about. Xe must be able to see the stark relief on Harold’s face, hurrying towards him.

“Harold, is every-?” He cuts xem off, closing the gap between the two of them and dragging Bubby into a crushing hug. “Harold… Can’t… Breathe.”

“Oh, sorry!” He quickly loosens his grip and Bubby wheezes for air as xe rest xer chin on his shoulder.

“Not that I’m not happy to see you…” Bubby starts once they’ve got their breath back, “...But why are you happy enough to break ribs?”

“I didn’t, did I?” Harold asks, pulling away just enough to meet Bubby’s gaze, and Bubby rolls xer eyes and smiles.

“If you did, I’d be a lot more pissy. Now, answers, please?”

“Someone… Well, I found out about your project getting disbanded before I found out about you getting transferred to a new sector and I thought the worst, because. You and I both know it had always been a possibility and-”

“And you thought they killed me or something equally fucked up.” Bubby finishes the thought with a sigh, and Harold nods. “Well, whoever informed you was a dumbass and could have phrased the news so much better! They didn’t need to give you a heart attack! Who was it? I’ll set their ass on fire.”

“It doesn’t matter now.” Harold shrugs and smiles, and Bubby’s eyes dart over his face before xe nod.

“I guess you’re right. And! An upside to being out of that damn tube is that we can take our lunch breaks together. And it’s about that time now. So.” Xe disentangle the two of them and hook xer hand into the crook of Harold’s elbow, starting to tug him out of the room. “Let’s go! I want the best seat in the cafeteria, Harold!” He laughs at that and the two of them start hurrying down the hall.

“Very well! Onwards and upwards, my dear!”

#hlvrai #hlvrai boomer #dr. coomer #hlvrai bubby #kai writes #kai fills prompts #asthecrowrambles #kai answers

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themurphyzone · 3 years

Text

PatB Oneshot: Crystal Clear

AN: Part of an art trade with @plutonis in honor of her upcoming wedding. She tasked me with writing an introspective piece for a Brinky wedding. The art piece I requested is for the next chapter of Nova, so you’ll see the finished product there.

Prompt given by Pluto: I was wondering if you could do a little fic in which Brain is walking down the aisle on his wedding day, and we hear the thoughts going on in his head. What is he thinking? How is he feeling?

AO3 Link

If Brain had his way, he would’ve taped himself to the table leg with extra strong industrial strength duct tape and remained there for the rest of his life.

But Romy wouldn’t let him attach himself to said table leg, and Wakko already ate the duct tape to prevent him from getting it. All other binding materials, including the shoe strings and gluesticks, had been placed on a shelf mockingly out of his reach.

And since he was already in his wedding dress, he couldn’t even climb the shelf to retrieve the necessary materials.

“Dad, you’re killing the glarb,” Romy complained as he pried Brain from the table leg.

“Unhand me at once or so help me, Roman Numeral One!” Brain shouted, trying to break free from Romy’s grip, but it seemed their son had inherited Pinky’s unusual strength.

Wakko wasn’t any help either. He just watched the spectacle from his perch on the dresser, chomping on a platter of garlic prawns swiped from the catering company. Thankfully, Brain had the foresight to order plenty of garlic prawns for their celebratory dinner.

As soon as Romy’s grip loosened, Brain broke free and reattached himself to the table leg.

Funny, how he wanted this for so long. Yearned for it. And when the time came, even after all the progress he’d made, he was still afraid for reasons he didn’t understand.

It was illogical, he knew. He trusted Pinky more than anyone else, even himself.

But even that wasn’t enough to get him moving again.

“Guess someone’s gotta tell Ma you’re not coming,” Romy sighed.

Brain’s fingers dug into the wooden grooves.

“He’s definitely gonna cry. Probably gonna curl up on the couch and watch daytime soap operas with buckets of triple fudge ice cream or something,” Romy continued.

Sweet, innocent Pinky being heartbroken at his own wedding. Running off and doing who-knows-what, because he could be very unpredictable when he was truly distraught. His simple mind eroding away because of the unhealthy combination of trashy soap operas and ice cream diet.

Brain’s heart clenched uncomfortably at that mental image. With great reluctance, Brain let go of the table leg and marched over to the mirror to smooth out the wrinkles in his wedding dress to keep his hands occupied as he quelled that troublesome idea.

“You’re gonna tell him that Brain’s in here, right?” Wakko asked.

“Sure,” Romy replied.

Wait...everyone knew of his intentions to see this wedding through to the end. And he'd never let the hard work and efforts of their wedding plans go to waste.

It was just a ploy.

Brain took a deep breath. To lose his temper before the ceremony would surely spell catastrophe. He wanted to keep this an emotionally satisfying occasion, for Pinky’s sake.

“Romy, I won’t deny that your tactic was effective. But you will refrain from using my fondness for Pinky against me in the future,” Brain said.

Perhaps Roman Numeral One took after him more than he thought. It was impressive and aggravating at the same time.

"Sorry, Dad." Romy's head dropped as he handed the bouquet to Brain.

Like with Pinky, Brain just didn't have it in him to remain angry once an apology was issued. He transferred the bouquet to one hand and lifted Romy's chin from its downcast position.

"Look alive, Romy. This is a celebration," Brain ordered as he turned back to the mirror. "And Wakko, you're not touching our wedding rings with prawn-stained hands."

Wakko pulled out a kitchen sink from his hammerspace and started washing his hands without removing his gloves. With the soft hum of Happy Birthday in the background, Brain turned back to the mirror and examined himself one more time. They didn’t have long before the ceremony began.

His dress towed the line between simple and extravagant. Ruffles in the right places, but not so many that it would hinder movement. A small hole had been cut to fit his tail, carefully sized so that it was easy to thread the stiff appendage through. His sleeves cut off at the elbow, white fabric giving way to a delicate flower pattern, lending an elegant and dignified quality to the outfit.

It hadn’t been easy obtaining this dress. He’d lost track of how many toy aisles Pinky had dragged him down, and he didn’t want his outfit to come from the toy section of Walmart. Pinky had eventually called Dot for help, and with her connections, she arranged for a fashion designer who specialized in making clothes for dolls to help them out.

And while they eventually put the issue of clothes behind them, they had a fair number of arguments when Brain found a reason to reject all the dresses Pinky suggested. Especially with that gaudy puffed sleeve dress Pinky loved but Brain hated.

“I realize we must’ve been insufferable for the past few months,” Brain said. Planning for a wedding wasn’t anything like planning for world domination, as he learned the hard way. But it was Pinky’s wedding as much as it was his, and after one vehement disagreement, Brain had realized he was pushing out Pinky’s contributions to impose his own.

It wasn’t easy, but he did try to turn over some aspects to Pinky, just to see how he did with them. And Brain didn’t regret that choice, because the results were absolutely wonderful.

“Yeah, you and Ma were ruining my vibes,” Romy gave a lazy smile as Brain nudged him in retaliation.

Romy had said something similar when he’d first run away from home, but mischief had long replaced the anger. Though Brain still didn’t think ventriloquism was a lucrative career, he’d made his peace with Romy’s lifestyle while repairing their relationship. And Romy wasn’t the only one who derived happiness from working with dummies.

“Regardless, we’re grateful that you came,” Brain said.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Romy shrugged. “Better save your sap for the ceremony though.”

“I’m not being sappy,” Brain muttered out of principle rather than true irritation.

It was 2:55 pm. Five minutes until the ceremony began. He was running out of time.

He quickly fixed his leaf crown and attached veil so that it was less crooked. In years past, he never would’ve been satisfied until a golden crown with embedded jewels rested atop his head. But now he found the leaf crown was worth so much more than gold.

Then he made sure the transparent veil covered his face. The thin fabric didn’t hinder his vision, but he felt like he was looking through a lens.

Everyone would be watching him. He wanted that thin wall of privacy between himself and the onlookers. Seeing outside, but concealing his feelings within.

He didn’t have to. He knew he didn’t. But old habits die hard, it seemed.

The clock chimed three. It was time.

What could go wrong?

“Don’t worry!” Wakko exclaimed as he picked up the purple velvet cushion with their wedding rings. “I didn’t mistake these for tiny Ring Pops this time!”

Brain was a fool. A sentimental, lovestruck, starcrossed, and twitterpated fool.

Wakko brought up the lead as they marched through the twisting hallways of the enormous property they’d rented for their Hawaiian wedding. Surprisingly, coming up with a location for their wedding hadn’t been difficult. After a stressful day of making other arrangements, they’d chosen a scenic, relaxing travel documentary to unwind.

As soon as the documentary showed a beautiful Hawaiian beach at sunset, they both agreed on making Hawaii the destination of choice for both wedding and honeymoon. Brain gripped the flower bouquet tightly, careful not to crush the petals between his fingers. Romy’s hand was on his elbow, light enough to not be intrusive but quick to react so Brain didn’t run into a wall.

He’d assigned Pinky to the task of flower selection, and Pinky had researched the meaning of flowers extensively with an unusual amount of focus. If Pinky had his way, he would’ve gathered one specimen of every flower in the world and brought them to the wedding, though Brain eventually convinced him to narrow his list down to a single digit range.

Brain was only familiar with the rose as a symbol of love, and he recalled the meaning of only two other flowers within their wedding. The rest were completely lost on him. The first was the magnolia, which represented perseverance. As such, a white magnolia stood proudly in his bouquet, nestled among the red roses of passionate love. Pinky had chosen the magnolia for Brain, and insisted Brain choose at least one flower too.

Though Brain didn’t place much stock in what the websites claimed, he just went along with it to humor Pinky. But he’d settled on the colorful freesia, just to thank Pinky for his friendship, faith, and trust for all the years they’d known each other.

Their miniature procession stopped at a glass sliding door that separated them from the rest of the proceedings.

Brain gulped and clutched the bouquet to his chest.

Beyond those doors, the wedding guests mingled with each other on the grass. A gorgeous, azure beach formed the perfect backdrop to the ceremony. White, fluffy clouds dotted the sunny skies, and the beauty was rather foreign to him. He’d spent far too much of his life hiding away in the darkness of a sterile lab.

It seemed the entirety of their Animaniacs coworkers had shown up for the wedding. He was surprised by the turnout, but it seemed that everyone had been clamoring for him and Pinky to tie the knot for years.

And while the usual toon antics were prevalent among the guests, Brain’s attention was drawn to the very front, where Pinky was arranging flowers on Pharfignewton, who’d jumped at the offer of being Pinky’s best mare.

Back then, the sight would’ve incited a feeling he’d come to realize was jealousy. Now he was just grateful that Pinky received some physical affection from someone when Brain couldn’t give it to him.

Wakko opened the screen door, causing a stir among the guests in the back, which caused a ripple effect that spread to the front and prompted everyone to take their seats. Pinky slid off Pharfignewton’s back, bouncing on his toes and craning his neck to see Brain.

Even from this far away, Brain saw Pinky’s bright, goofy smile. It made him regret keeping the veil over his face, cloaking his happiness even from his partner.

“Testing, testing!” Yakko said into the microphone. When he’d been ordained to officiate a wedding, nobody knew for sure. He shuffled through the cards for his opening speech. “Alright, everyone. We’ve all been very impatient for this moment, so no more delays, capiche? Dot, start the music!”

A hush fell across the audience, and even the most rambunctious members of the Animaniacs crew fell silent as a soft piano arrangement of A Whole New World began to play.

Wakko proudly held the cushion with the wedding rings over his head and marched to the front. From the aisle, Mindy reached into her basket and threw pink flower petals into the air, and Buttons held onto her so she didn’t fall out of her seat.

Romy released Brain and followed Wakko. Pinky greeted their son with an enthusiastic hug, and Bunny flashed them a thumbs-up from her seat.

All the attention was on Brain now.

He wasn’t sure if he wanted it.

He wanted to flee inside the house. Tell everyone to go home and they’ll get refunded the costs at a later date. Take Pinky to city hall and sign a document to make their marriage official instead.

The audience whispered.

He saw the worry in Pinky’s eyes, a stunning shade of blue that popped out from the beautiful Hawaiian beach. They were too far from each other to speak normally, but Pinky laid his hand on top of the colorful freesia pinned to his white dress shirt, just over his heart.

Trust me, he was saying.

And Pinky had proven himself worthy of his trust long ago.

Slowly, Brain laid his hand on the magnolia, the centerpiece of his bouquet.

I won’t give up.

Pinky smiled that soft, knowing smile of his. Emboldened by his encouragement, Brain stepped out of the house and onto the white, silky path that had been laid out for him.

He took slow, methodical steps to steel his nerves. This was his reward, and he was allowed to have it.

No more electricity, no more fear of rejection.

The happiness of having someone by his side. The sorrow when they were separated either by force or by choice. The surprise of receiving gifts from Pinky when he’d done nothing to deserve them. The guilt that came from upsetting Pinky with morally questionable schemes.

Emotions he’d once derided as frivolous were now precious and dear to him.

All the good, all the bad, and everything in between. And this occasion marked a brand new beginning, a new chapter of their lives that would bring new happiness and surprises. Though they’d be sad, angry, or terrified sometimes, they’d always be together.

That’s what counted most.

The melody of A Whole New World floated gently through the air. An airy tune filled with wonder at a world previously unknown to them.

He and Pinky dueted this song so many times that the lyrics and background instrumentals were permanently etched into his mind.

Only now did he understand what the song was truly about. Leaving behind their defined roles, into a freedom-filled sky. Just the two of them, exploring a huge world together. The burdens of the past and worries of the future left on the ground, and all that mattered was the present.

Being themselves, and experiencing things they’ve never experienced before.

It was terrifying and exhilarating all at once.

He could hardly wait.

Pinky waited for him, taking Brain’s hand in his own. He was absolutely breathtaking up close.

“Narf,” Pinky whispered, and Brain would never tire of that endearingly stupid word. “You did it, Brain.”

“All thanks to you, Pinky,” Brain replied, and Pinky’s tail wagged at the praise.

Together, they walked to that beautiful wedding arch with intertwining pink and blue flowers, stopping in front of Yakko’s podium. Brain gave his bouquet to Romy so he could properly hold Pinky’s hands. Romy gave them a lazy grin, and Pharfignewton lowered her head so Romy could have a good perch. Wakko proudly balanced the cushion on his head, and Dot stood beside her brother, giving him a friendly shove without knocking the wedding rings off.

And Brain realized he was still seeing the world through veiled eyes. Though his vision was unimpeded, he’d barely noticed there was a filter among all his doubts and fears.

He’d kept the veil for a transparent amount of privacy when he walked down the aisle, but now that he was with Pinky…

Well, it just wasn’t necessary anymore.

He brought Pinky’s hands to the veil. Their eyes met, and a silent understanding passed between them.

Then Pinky threw back the veil, and the filter he’d been looking through was completely gone. And Brain saw the...no, he saw his world through fresh eyes.

A bright, happy, silly mouse stood before him, a colorful burst of freesia on his chest, and beautiful sky-blue eyes filled with endless love, promising hope and warmth and companionship forever more.

“You’re so pretty, Brain,” Pinky giggled.

It was the most wonderful sound for his compass, his heart, and his world.

No more tolerating. He fully accepted the undeniable fact of how much he loved Pinky, and Pinky loving him back from this point forward.

Never before had he felt so much happiness, and he was ready for everyone to see it.

Unable to contain himself, Brain leapt into Pinky’s arms and kissed him. Though he heard their audience reacting with shock, it was all just background noise to him. And he’d never been a patient mouse.

Pinky was surprised at first, but his strong arms wrapped around Brain to support him, and he kissed back wonderfully.

Fireworks exploded in Brain’s mind, or maybe the Warners set some off, he didn’t know. But he had to come up for air, and he released the kiss, though it seemed Pinky could keep going for quite some time.

“Technically, you’re supposed to wait until I say ‘you may now kiss the Brain’, but who am I to stop true love?” Yakko grinned.

“Sorry,” the mice chorused, though neither of them regretted the little break in protocol.

The audience burst into cheers, and Yakko led them in a standing ovation for a good five minutes before they all settled down enough for him to start his opening speech.

“Love you, Brain,” Pinky whispered as he put Brain down and took his hands again.

“Love you too, Pinky,” Brain replied, and he couldn’t wipe the smile off his face.

Everything was laid out before them, clear as crystal and bright as day.

End AN: This is cheesy but I don’t care I love it and they’re married now.

The Hawaiian setting is not a reference to the PatB fic Trouble in Paradise, it’s just that the last wedding I went to was in Hawaii and it was so romantic.

3rd time I’ve referenced A Whole New World in these fics. This song is just too perfect for them.

#pinky and the brain #brinky #patb fanfiction #cheesy in a good fluffy way

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demoneyesanddamagedsouls · 3 years

Text

Sparring Partners

Chapter 3: Infiltrate The Enemy

A/N: Alright so this is Chapter 3 of this fic, I got a little carried away with this chapter that's why the word count is more than last time. We're starting to get into the thick of it now! I have a feeling that each chapter will probably get longer and longer as I go cause I'm just enjoying writing it so much. Feedback and comments as always are so welcome, I’d love to hear your thoughts, and if you’d like to be tagged for the upcoming chapters just let me know! xxx

Pairing: Agent Whiskey x F! Reader

I have also just created a playlist for ya’ll to listen to while reading. I hope it gets you even more invested! ✨COCKY COWBOY PLAYLIST✨

Summary: You and Agent Whiskey are long time rivals. As Statesman agents you both have been put up for the same promotion and this mission is your final chance to prove yourself. Have you got what it takes?

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Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: Slight Language, Canon-typical violence (got heavier on this one, blood, pain, choking, weapon usage)

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CHAPTER 3: Infiltrate The Enemy

Driving through city, listening to the soft sounds of the radio, you head towards the hospital. Mentally preparing yourself for the day ahead you run through your fake persona. You were going undercover as a young medical student in training that had been transferred from your university to take up a short placement at the CleanPlanet facilities. With all that you had learnt over the years helping Ginger out with certain tech and patching up different injuries you felt that you had a slight grasp on some basic medical terminology and concepts. You simply needed to blend into the background and focus on the mission at hand.

Continuing along you begin to leave the hustle and bustle of the city life, moving further out into the outskirts of town. The hospital was in a more remote area, another way to keep suspicious, prying eyes away from their experiments you thought, as you continued along the rather empty road. As you approach the multi storeyed hospital complex you notice the large wire fence which circled the perimeter of the area, the gates at the front wide open for visitors. You drive onto the lot and park in the staff area to the right, inside the gate. Taking a deep breath, you collect yourself, brushing the loose strands of hair that had fallen out of your ponytail and tucking them behind your ear. Pulling out the earpiece from the small box that Ginger had given you, you quickly tuck it behind the arm of your glasses at the top of your ear to hide it from view.

Grabbing your bag from the backseat of the car, you take out your lab coat that Ginger had given you and pulled it over your shoulders. Pulling your knees up you pull your small throwing knives out of your duffle, strapping a few to your thighs. You weren’t about to go into this hostile situation without being prepared. Pulling your lab coat around you to cover up your hidden weapons you hop out of your personas rundown car and start walking towards the hospitals main entrance. Curiously, you notice a lot of doctors, other professionals, and a few security guards here and there wandering around the perimeter of the fence.

You counted about 23 people in total from what you could see, some talking together, some having a cigarette break, and so on. But as you look closer, you realise that all these seemingly random people dappled around were wearing communication earpieces. On some of the security guards you even noticed the outline of a handgun tucked into the back of their shirts. It seemed that the hospital was on high alert and extremely well-guarded. Everything was going to be just fine, just blend in and focus. You’ve got this. You murmur to yourself to ease your nerves, focusing on embodying the new persona you needed to become. Out of the corner of your eye you notice a strikingly familiar shiny blue chrome. You turn ever so slightly to see that Whiskey’s car was parked in the visitor’s area around the side of the hospital. I suppose Duke Silver has already arrived…

Heading inside you walk over to the information desk flashing your ID badge to the receptionist. “I’m the new student transfer here for my placement from the University of Texas, where am I heading?” You query, putting a quiver into your voice, you wanted to really sell the part of the first-time med student. The woman behind the desk gestures behind you. “Down the hall and to your left sweetheart…” Looking at you she smiles; she must see the nervousness you were portraying. “You’ll do just fine darlin, Doctor Violet will be mentoring you and she is just downright lovely. You’ve got nothing to be worried about.”

Continuing to fake your anxious energy, you tuck an invisible hair behind your ear activating your earpiece in one swift movement. Thanking the woman profusely you head in the direction she had gestured. The hospital was abuzz with activity all around you patients being moved, doctors and nurses chatting amongst each other, people waiting for their loved ones. It certainly looked and felt like a real hospital, an impressive cover, you thought to yourself. As you continue further down the hallway, the herd of people starting to thin, you realise you were moving towards the staff offices in the back. Looking around quickly to make sure you were out of earshot of anyone you speak quietly to yourself attempting to communicate with Whiskey on the other side of the hospital. “Hey Whiskey, my lines open, just holler if you run into any trouble.”

You hear a sharp crackle coming from your earpiece as Whiskey turns his earpiece on. “Likewise, Vodka,” he says, his voice unusually quiet, “I’m currently in the waiting room outside Howard’s office, there’s a few other wealthy looking gentlemen and women in here with me, who I assume will also be receiving a tour of the facilities… I’ll be right here if you need me, sunshine.” He purposely drew out his nickname he had for you, his voice dragging out every syllable. You could practically hear the smirk in his whispered tone.

Chuckling internally, you click your earpiece off so as not to distract your partner, or vice versa. You continued along towards Dr Violets office, turning around the corner and almost colliding into the other students gathered outside her door. There was about 4 of them in total, 5 including yourself. Shit, you need to be more careful. Anyone could have heard you. You look around to the others but they we’re all completely focused, eyes trained on the blue door which read “Dr. Octavia Violet M.D.”

Suddenly, the door swings open causing the other students to jump in surprise. Out from the office steps a prominent figure, a tall and dashing woman dressed in deep navy suit with a black button up underneath, a black tie wrapped around her neck. Brown hair wrapped into a low bun and round glasses resting on the bridge of her nose she exuded the air of highly intelligent and respected medical practitioner. Adjusting your lab coat and pushing your glasses up your nose, you continue to emulate a feeling of nervousness. This wasn’t too difficult a task as you already felt rather intimidated and yet oddly impressed by this woman. Her presence felt powerful, a quiet strength about her, shown in the way she carried herself.

“Hi there everyone, you all must be my new placement students,” She spoke, a kind smile plastered on her face. “I’m Dr Violet, I’ll be looking after you while you’re here with us over the next few weeks.” After all of you had introduced yourself separately, she began to lead you out towards the main part of the hospital, “It’s lovely to meet you all, now if you’d follow me its time I showed you around our facilities here at CleanPlanet so that you can become familiar with your new place of work.” Her black stilettos clicked as she walked, taking you past the reception desk and deeper into the hospital. Walking behind her with the other students in tow you noticed a small intricate scar poking out from underneath her jacket collar. You rest your index finger on your glasses attempting to use the tech to get a closer look. Managing to take a slightly zoomed in picture before she whips back around to address her small group of attentive pupils, you curse lightly under your breath and move further back.

You’d have to try to get a better look at whatever that was later, you couldn’t afford to draw any suspicion to yourself in such a small group. Dr Violet looks over her new students and begins to speak, “Alright so this first wing is the main hospital ward, we have different stations for certain requirements and specialists scattered around so we can accommodate a good number of inpatients here. Now further along…” Moving again the group walks further into the hospital into a more private area with sectioned off rooms and areas, “This is where we have our specialist medical, surgical and psychiatric wards. The main ward and these areas will be where you spend the majority of your time while on placement as the other side of the hospital is mainly outpatient facilities such as the A&E and the ICU.” She turned back to look at the group as she continued, “One of our main purposes here at CleanPlanet is to run test trials of experimental, but potentially lifesaving new procedures and medications,” You ears perk up at this statement, this might be what you needed to look further into.

The drug tests had seemed to be the source of the fatalities and illnesses that you had discovered in your research. “This is something we are very proud of and something you will be helping assist with. Trial subjects will need to be prepped for these new tests and made comfortable especially for certain surgeries and medications.”

You attempted to jot down some notes in a small note pad you had brought in your bag to appear as studious as some of her other pupils. You needed to keep a low profile. But on the inside your mind was reeling, what did she mean by making the patients comfortable and prepped for these trials and why would it be the student’s task to do this? If anything, it seemed that this would be a potential way to take the blame off CleanPlanet and its employees. If the students administered any medication to an unsuspecting patient, CleanPlanet would get away scot free, getting yet another unsuspecting party to do their dirty work.

As your mind processed this new information you realise that you had zoned Dr Violet out, “… we’ll be running you through what trials we’ll be running and what we’ll be getting you to do further along. Please follow me.” Walking further into these more secluded surgery and prep rooms you began to feel an unsettling ambience fill the space. The hallway had become starker, with fewer staff, the temperature had dropped to reflect the much colder and highly sanitised appearance of your new surroundings. The staff that were around had stern appearances and were adorned in different protective gear. Some wearing masks and protective goggles with some even wearing full hazmat suits. Dr Violet led you into one of the larger rooms off the main hallway and as you walked in provided each of you with a face mask of your own.

What on earth was going on here? You turn to look at Dr Violet once more, she was standing in front of a small group of staff who were sitting at multiple different desks with computer monitors in front of them. All of them were facing towards one wall in the room with what appeared to be a large, shadowed frame set into it. Each staff member was also wearing a facemask which covered their nose and mouth, jotting down notes and adjusting certain information on their screens.

It appeared to be a human x ray with different vital sign information down the side, as you peered further forward towards the screen closest to you to try and get a better look, your train of thought is suddenly interrupted by Dr Violets voice. “Alright students, we’re about to run you through a preparation and procedure of one of our focal trials here at CleanPlanet.” A mask now covering the bottom half of her face. She snapped her fingers and suddenly the frame on the wall behind her burst into vivid colour. You could see behind her a patient sitting on a small medical bed, a young male. Pale under the luminescent glow of the white medical lights, he looked almost translucent. You realised that the frame on the wall must be a one-way mirror allowing you a protected view into an adjacent medical suite.

A doctor stood over the boy, who couldn’t be more than your age, with a forced happy demeanour plastered across his face. You saw the doctors mouth moving but heard no sound to accompany it, the boy nodded in agreement and then signed a sheet of paper that the doctor held out for him on a clipboard. As the boy laid down onto the bed the doctor exited the room and you tapped your glasses frame lightly once more to begin to film what you were seeing, you had a feeling this was going to be important.

Dr Violet continued to speak as that same doctor entered the room you were standing in. “This is pivotal new research that we’ve been conducting to find a treatment for some of the big incurable diseases that plague the human race.” As she continued to speak you couldn’t bring yourself to turn in her direction, your eyes locked onto the room through that you could see through the frame. You began to notice the white cushioned padding covering the entirety of the walls within the room, and a large pit of concern began to open in your stomach. Why did it look like a cell in a mental institution in there…? “For this particular experiment we have been testing out an anaesthetic gas which aims to heighten the strong cells within the body to naturally fight off the illnesses and ailments which plague the patient.” Dr Violet explains to the students.

Suddenly you see a cloud of pale-yellow gas erupt from the ceiling above the patient. It starts to fill up the medical suite in front of your eyes as the young man squirms worriedly on the medical bed. The gas slowly engulfs the room, so thick that you can no longer see the patient. Everything is quiet for a few moments as everyone holds their breath in suspense. Suddenly the screens on front of the medical staff begin to flash in a warning red, the computers making load concerning beeps. All of a sudden you see the monitored heart rate on one of the screens plummet to zero and then shoot back up to over 200 beats per minute.

Dr Violet looks over at one of the screens with a concerned expression on her face. She leans closer to the window frame in front of her, trying to see further in when all at once there is load crack. A fist slams into the mirror with a huge amount of brute force only millimetres away from Dr Violets face. She recoils back out of shock from the sudden noise but quickly steadies herself, shaking off any worry in her now drawn expression. You continue to watch in horror as some of the gas begins to dissipate, revealing the maddened face of the patient through the mirrored frame. He was slamming himself repeatedly into the wall trying to break through the glass that separated us from him.

“Unfortunately…” The doctors voice cut through the shock that had paralysed your body, “Not every test is a success.” She trails off looking back at the boy behind the glass. His eyes were red and wild as he frantically ran around the room smacking into every possible surface, desperate to escape. He gripped the sides of his head with his hands, his face contorting in agony as an unheard scream ripped through him. He collapsed to the ground on his knees, his body shuddering in pain. You could see blood begin to drip down his cheeks out of his ears onto the floor, staining the stark white room with a deep and ominous red. Finally he collapses onto the floor, the life drained from his body, blood seeping and creating a halo around the crown of his head.

Dr V begins listing off some of the side effects of this new test such as migraines, nausea, everything up to internal bleeding. “This is a particularly exceptional case, a sharp learning curve for our testing. One of the many exciting trials and tribulations of scientific progress!” A smile lighting up her features, her whole-body tense with excitement. How could she be excited about what had happened here? You thought as your attempted to hide the pure shock and panic that was screaming out on the inside. All at once you see a few medical assistants in hazmat suits pull the lifeless body of the boy out of the suite in front of you. The room then floods with water from the sprinklers embedded in the ceiling, washing the blood down the small drain under the patient bed. “Bring in the next test subject.” Says one of the medical techs into a microphone.

No sooner had the room been cleared it had been filled again, a new patient being sat on the bed, a young woman, her face tired and worn. She had no idea what was about to happen. The view to the suite goes black once more, obscuring it from view and you and the rest of the students are hurriedly being ushered out of the room by Dr V. Everyone pulls their masks off as they leave, it seems everyone was a bit shaken from that experience. Still reeling from what you had just witnessed you keep your gaze fixed to the floor away from the prying eyes of the doctor. She continues walking and talking but you can no longer hear anything she says, your head is pounding. You need to get back there and get all the test information onto a hard drive for Statesman. You need to figure out how far this really goes. Looking up once more you raise your hand. Dr Violet looks directly at you, her gaze piercing you to your very core. “Yes?” She queries.

“May I be excused to go to the restroom Doctor?” You say, a slight quiver in your voice, this was certainly no act.

“Of course, there’s nothing wrong with having a slightly weak constitution.” Looking you up and down she waves her hand, gesturing for you to leave. “Go collect yourself. You can catch up with us further along.”

“Thank you Doctor.” Gripping tightly onto your notebook you dash back down away from the rest of the group as they continue along. You duck into the bathroom that you had passed earlier, quickly checking that there was no one else inside. Walking up to one of the sinks you look at your reflection in the mirror. Your complexion had paled from the shock of what you had witnessed, and your hands trembled as you gripped onto the ceramic of the basin fighting to keep yourself upright. Turning on the faucet you quickly splash some water across your face. You needed to get a grip and focus. You had a job you needed to do.

Tapping your earpiece, you open the communication line, exhaling softly to calm your nerves. “Whiskey, are you there?” Hearing another crackle, you hear his line open.

“I’m here Vodka, whaddya need sugar?” He says voice quiet, speaking only loud enough for you to hear.

“Ok well there have been some developments on my end, I’m about to head back into the lab we just left where my eyes were subjected to some pretty traumatic stuff…” You trail off recalling the horrific scene.

“What happened??” He queries, worry present in his tone of voice. You recount everything you had seen to him so he could get a full picture of what the hell was going on. “That sounds positively concerning…” Whiskey sighs audibly through the comm. “Well, I’m currently getting a wrap up of the facility tour from Howard so keep me on the line while you execute this and holler if you get into to any trouble.”

“Will do, Agent.” Quickly exiting the bathroom, you look down the hallway in the direction of your medical group, seeing no evidence of them and hearing nothing you begin to move in the opposite direction. Heading back towards the medical lab you quicken your pace, making use of the apparent emptiness of the hallway to reach your destination quicker.

“Jeez Vodka, you’re breathing so hard I think I’m going to go deaf in this ear.” Whiskey quips.

“Excuse me for thinking timing is of the essence in this situation cowboy.” You mutter to yourself angrily, as you reach the door to the medical lab you had visited earlier. Wary to keep your voice low, you didn’t know what was on the other side of that door. You hear Whiskey chuckle to himself, laughing at your constant irritation towards him. Ignoring him you turn the handle and hearing a soft click you push the door open.

Stepping inside the dark room you see two lab techs turn from their computers to face you. “I’m so sorry, I think I left something of mine in here earlier…” you glance around the room assessing your options. You need to get these two out of the way quickly so that you can access the information you need before anyone else comes back. Spotting a stapler on the desk closest to you amongst other scattered office supplies you quickly pick it up and open it. Looking back at the lab techs, you throw them a meagre smile.

“Sorry about this…” You mutter quietly, throwing the stapler into the air and in one swift movement you throw yourself into a cartwheel, flipping your leg forward, kicking the stapler directly in the middle, snapping it in half with the edge of your heel. The two ends of the stapler fly as you return to an upright stance, each side hitting the two lab techs square on their forehead, knocking them out cold. You smirk to yourself, proud of your efficient work.

“Everything under control Vodka?” You hear Whiskeys voice in your ear.

“Everything is under control.” You say as you dash over to the closest computer to you, rolling the lab tech who was slumped over in his own office chair out of the way. Pulling a hard drive out of your back pocket you quickly plug it into the port on the side of the computer screen. Tapping a few keys like Ginger taught you, the entire computer log begins to copy over to your hard drive. Files start to flick across the screen showing you all you ever needed to know about the trials they were running. Pictures of patients flit across the screen, hundreds of people with deceased written in bold red letters across their files. “My god…” you say, your voice catching as the number of files continue to rise.

“What’s going on there Vodka?” You hear a mutter in your ear.

“Whiskey I…” You trail off unable to comprehend how many people had been used and tossed aside for this drug trial. “I cannot believe how many patients they’ve gone through for this drug Jack…” You using his real name throws Whiskey for a loop. He knows how serious this must be if all the sarcasm and snipes had left your voice completely. You continue talking, trying to keep your nerves in check as the picture of the boy from earlier flashes onto the screen, the same words across his picture in red. “The drug they’re testing is an anaesthesia type gas which they’re calling Sunflower… It seems that in most of the cases it takes the patients about a week to experience the more intense symptoms and then eventually…” Trailing off again, your silence saying everything you couldn’t seem to articulate.

All of a sudden, the door to the lab opens and you see the frame of Dr Violet step inside. She quirks her eyebrow at you and glances at her two unconscious techs, down to the hard drive and then back up at you. You hear a small beep come from the computer notifying you that the upload had been completed. You quickly snatch the drive out of the computer as Dr V stared you down.

Looking at you with a knowing smile she puts her hand out towards you. “I think I’ll be taking that off your hands sweetheart.” She says with her hand outstretched.

“I don’t think so Violet.” You say as you quickly pocket the drive, bringing your hands to hover over the knives strapped to your thighs, bracing for a fight.

A crackle comes through your earpiece suddenly, “Vodka, is everything alright?”

You have no time to respond because all at once Dr V goes in for a jab directly into your stomach. Catching you off guard, you keel over in shock and from being suddenly winded, gripping your stomach. “That’s Doctor to you.” Dr V quips. Gasping, desperately trying to regain your breath you pull out one of your knives from your thigh holster and lunge at her, aiming a blow for her shoulder.

Expecting the blade to sink into soft flesh you put all your weight and strength behind your throw. The knife collides with her shoulder, but nothing happens. You hear the clang of metal clashing. Instead of sinking in, the blade slashes downwards, cutting through her lab coat and her suit revealing a metal covering underneath. The force that should have impacted the doctor reverberates back into your arm sending a jarring shock through your body. Quickly recovering you kick out directly at her left leg landing a heavy blow which forces her to recoil back.

Both catching your breath you stare the doctor down. “How could you possibly think what you’re doing here is ok?” You pant out getting ready for your next move.

“We’re trying to improve the world, make people stronger… but sometimes you have to crack a few bad eggs before you find the right one.” She says matter-of-factly, as she nurses her leg.

You both resume a fighting stance readying yourselves. “You’re hurting so many people just to achieve that goal, can’t you see that the harm outweighs any potential good you’re trying to accomplish?” You throw back at her, a venomous anger reaching your voice at her absolute callousness to the situation. You throw your other blade attempting to take her by surprise and incapacitate her, aiming for her already injured leg. The knife hits its mark with deadly accuracy, sinking into the flesh of her thigh. Dr Violet cries out in pain, sucking air through her teeth as she controls her reaction. She flicks her gaze away from the knife sticking out of her leg back at you, a new fury in her eyes.

“Sunshine are you handling the situation?” You hear Whiskeys tense voice in your ear.

Dr Violet runs at you throwing her non injured leg out kick you hard in the ribs. You grunt in pain, exhaling sharply. Without giving you a chance to recover she grabs you by the throat and clamps her fingers down, restricting any air flow into your lungs. She lifts you up with one arm by the neck keeping you from being able to breath. You grasp her hand with both your own, trying to tear her fingers away from your throat, trying to let any amount of air reach your lungs. She holds you there like you weigh almost nothing, looking you up and down. You thrash out with your legs trying to somehow escape from her grasp as black spots start to cloud your vision.

“Sweetheart?!” You hear Whiskey in your ear once more, his voice riddled with concern. Trying to choke out a response to your partner as your voice cracks, “P-Please…” is all you can muster. You feel yourself start to slip out of consciousness in the doctor’s vice like grip. You hear her calm voice as your body movements start to slow and weaken, “I think you will make a fine new test subject for our trial.” She says with a large smirk gloating at you, her new prize.

All you hear as you finally succumb to unconsciousness is Whiskey yelling your name through the com as your body collides with the floor…

*******************************************************************************************

Permanent Tags:

@hrk-fic-recs @misslexilouwho

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leon-scott-kennedy · 3 years

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So Covert, I Hardly Knew Him

Part I | Part II | Part III

Part IV: Close

Getting the generator up and running was by far the most straightforward task of the day so far. The hastily snapped photo of the instruction manual proved invaluable for overriding safety protocols and bypassing security measures, so what could have taken hours, took minutes. Backup power hummed to life, emergency lights flickered awake, and the distant hum of air circulation kicking in thrummed. Regrettably, the cold storage was worse on the second entry when the entirety of the room became visible.

It wasn’t six Tyrants; it was ten. Two more tacked on either end of the previous row that Leon hadn’t been able to make out in the dark. Whatever Leon did here out, waking them up was not on his to-do list. The walk back through the specimen storage had Leon shivering, and not from the chill of the cold storage. In full light, each frozen mutation was more hideous than the last.

“We should try the labs,” Ada said.

Leon sincerely wished he could be as unruffled in the face of horror as Ada was. Even back in Racoon City, she’d never flinched. “Probably our best bet,” he agreed somewhat remorsefully. Who knew what else they’d find in the dilapidated ruins of mad science, but Leon needed what he came for. He couldn’t prove the White House was dirty yet, and he needed to know who was sitting at the top. He needed evidence for the President. “On me.”

With Ada at his back, Leon felt marginally better as they slunk down the destroyed hallways, complete with cliché flickering lights and creepy shadows. Together, they searched the ruined labs in the seemingly endless maze of corridors and smashed equipment. They took out than a few BOWs, moving seamlessly together as if they’d been partnered for years, and not reluctant companions out of necessity. Ada had surprisingly become an apathetic ally that Leon could rely on to keep him alive in a tight spot.

Then again, the last time Leon had been a part of a team, an entire crew had lost their lives, the secretary of defence had been murdered, his CO transformed into a murderous BOW, and the woman he’d kinda hit on had her neck snapped. So the bar was a bit low, and maybe solo was the way to go. No one to let down. No one to disappoint.

Leon didn’t mind the occasional team-up with the BSAA boys because of one particular pain in the ass captain's no man left behind mandate, and that was something Leon could get behind. You can’t save the world if you don’t care about the people around you. Sacrifice for the sake of sacrifice would get them nowhere.

Leon darted into the next lab. Two BOWs. Leon took out the first, and seconds later, Ada dispatched the second. In the corner of the room was a miraculously intact PC with an uncracked screen. Leon booked it across the room and snagged the chair before Ada could steal it out from under him. The boot was tediously slow. You’d think state-of-the-art research facilities would have better computers than whatever monstrosity Leon was coaxing to life. Then again, maybe age contributed to its durability.

Leon set his Samurai Edge down strategically on the desk next to the mouse, but out of Ada’s reach and in a position he could easily grab with the twitch of his hand. Ada’s expression pinched, and he grinned, feeling cheeky.

Ada folded her arms and sighed as if put out by his show. “Still don’t trust me?”

Leon rolled his eyes and focused on the task at hand. “I thought that was obvious.”

“Careful, that almost hurt,” Ada said and slunk off to search for her own prize since Leon was unwilling to play nice.

“Don’t go too far,” Leon called. He laughed when Ada cheekily waved at him over her retreating back. “Women.”

On edge, Leon shifted through years of data. He’d gotten lucky that this particular machine was connected to the main server, but the majority of the files were encrypted, and he didn’t have time to decrypt them now. Plus, Hunnigan would be faster, and he wasn’t afraid to admit it. The women in his life were a bit scary, but in a good way. The kind of way you could bet your life on.

From what he could tell from the bits he could piece together, the closure of the mine coincided with the lab security breach. The village had been abandoned shortly after. Had the villagers known what lived below them? Probably not.

Leon began to transfer the files to a secure drive for Hunnigan to sort through later. Suddenly, gunfire erupted in the distance.

“Shit.” Leon snagged his handgun. The transfer wasn’t done, but another burst of gunfire and Leon barely paused, glancing back at the transfer speed before he raced off to help Ada.

Ada was three labs down surrounded by seven zombies. She’d already taken out four, but she was cornered.

Leon rushed in, drawing their attention. It was enough for Ada to take out the one closest to her, and Leon dispatched the final three.

“Losing your touch?”

Ada’s smile was far too sweet. “I thought you liked playing the hero.”

The lab looked like all the others they had searched, right down to the cracked computer monitors, smashed towers, broken lab equipment. “Find anything,” Leon asked.

“Nothing important,” Ada said. She picked her way back across the lab to Leon’s side and lay a hand on Leon’s forearm.

Leon inhaled deeply to stop himself from flinching at the unwanted touch. People were always too touchy-feely. Growing up in the foster system, touch rarely equated to a good thing, more often than not, it meant punishment for something he probably hadn’t even done. One of his foster mothers used to throw him into a cold shower when he had what she considered too much energy. Because wanting to explore outside was too much from an eleven-year-old.

“Why don’t I believe you?” Leon pulled his arm out of her light grip and stepped back.

A light overhead sparked. That was the only warning they had before the fixture crashed to the ground. Leon shoved Ada out of its path, shielding her body with his own as he pressed her back into the wall behind them.

They were far too close. Leon could feel the heat of her body, and he couldn’t stop himself from glancing at her tongue as it darted out to lick her lower lip.

Ada leaned in. “All you had to do was ask.”

“No, thanks.” Leon jerked back, spun on his heels, and gunned down the incoming BOW attached to the commotion. “Stay out of trouble,” he called over his shoulder. Hopefully, the transfer was complete.

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#re fanfic #resident evil fanfiction #leon scott kennedy #leon kennedy #ada wong #leon s kennedy #infinite darkness #re2make #re degeneration #resident evil 4 #re 4

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echo-three-one · 3 years

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Whatever It Takes

Sequel to A Forgotten Memory

Roach's stealth skills are put to the test as he sneaks past an alleged Augustus base to capture him and gather intel about the recent EMP based attacks. Will Roach be able to impress Captain Price?

Previous Chapter : Soap - Experiment 001

Chapter 9 to another story made by Ray (echo-three-one) Comments and Reviews appreciated! I hope you enjoy! Love you all ❤️

"A SurPRICE Visit"

Gary 'Roach' Sanderson

Task Force 141

400 meters outside Augustus' Mountain Base

Germany

The winds were picking up when they landed and Roach flew about a few more meters away from Price.

"This EMP blast is messing with my signals. Captain, can you find Roach?" Ghost spoke over comms, his voice crumbled over the static.

"He landed not too far from me. Come on boy, let's get a head on." Price replied to Ghost as he helped Gary get up and untangle himself from his mess. Gary nodded and followed his Captain into the edge of the mountain.

"There it is. Augustus' base." he mused as Gary scoped through his supressed silencer. Trucks were leaving the area filled with armed hostiles.

"Ghost, you see this? They're leaving the hive." Price informed the recon man.

"Aye, sir. Looks like they're headed to Alex's direction. If we time this right you'll have less people inside there." he replied. Gary wondered why they were leaving. It didn't make sense to back-up an already reclaimed base back at Alex's.

"Let's go Roach. I'll take the one on the left tower, you take the one on the right. I'm currently spotting four Tangos by the gate. Fire when ready." Price instructed. Roach took a deep breath to steady his sights, quickly pulling the trigger once the crosshairs aligned with their heads.

"Good kill. Your sniper skills are improving, Sargeant." Price mused as he signaled them to move forward. For a Captain who's left him a solid first impression as a strict angryman, Roach didn't expect the kind words from him. It almost felt overwhelming.

"You go ahead and take what's important inside that guardhouse. I'll cover you from this position." he commanded and Gary sprung safely into action, switching to his suppressed pistol and into the guardhouse.

It was simple, a few cameras, some photos of people who they let in and a few map layouts. Gary quickly snapped all of them for Ghost to see. Roach also grabbed the radio and placed it near his ear. Gary set his sights on an AK-47 lying on the ground.

"Roach, be careful when using unsuppressed weapons. It might reveal our existence." Price muttered to which he nodded. It just made sense.

"Jäeger, kopierst du?" the radio muttered. Roach's German wasn't on point and any non-reply from the other end would result in an investigation.

"Ja, alles klar." he replied, trying to replicate the accent. There was no more reply on the other side which meant Gary actually nailed his reply.

"Captain, behind that door is heavily guarded. I suggest a reroute to the back door just a few meters east of your position. This isn't Augustus' base, it's a remote research facility studying plant life by the border and he seemed to take it over." Ghost informed after gathering the photos, Gary waited on the edge of the wall covering his Captain's six. The duo proceeded as suggested and climbed over an unguarded fence.

"We're at a greenhouse. Labeled 6." Price whispered.

"Do you see any cameras?" Ghost asked.

"Yeah. Looking at the plants." he muttered.

"Circle around it and find cover behind the safehouse labeled 5. If my German is correct, the central area should have 2 scientists on their way in there." Ghost informed.

"Right on schedule." Price nodded to Roach as they both knocked them down quietly and non-lethally as they were civilians. Gary quickly slung his weapon and hid it behind the huge white lab coat the both of them now wore.

"Keep your weapons hidden, until I say so. Okay?" Price said as he pulled the bodies somewhere hidden. Gary nodded as they confidently waltzed inside the base, using their fake ids pinned on their coats for entry.

Gary watched a lot of sci-fi fics and most of them depicted labs as white walled, glass-divided rooms with hundreds of scientists working on some random machineries. Except here, it's plants. It seemed normal as if they infiltrated the wrong base. Price seemed to worry too, his steps were further apart and he seemed to be in a hurry. They were losing hope on a lead, until one armed guard, different from those outside started climbing up the stairs.

"Finally. Some good news." Price muttered as they made their way up the stairs.

"Authorized personnel only." an armed guard stood by the steps blocking the duos way. It was too crowded and too risky to engage him and press through and they both needed a new plan.

"Es tut mir leid." Gary replied as he pulled Price to the restrooms.

"It's no use. We can't go guns ablazing right here." he noted to his Captain.

"Bollocks." he cursed.

"We need a diversion." He added.

"Way ahead of you, Sir." Gary smirked and showed him his c4 trigger, pushed it and an explosion followed.

"Nice. By the guard house?" Price asked while they waited for reinforcements to assist the blast.

"Yeah."

"Quick thinking lad. I like that."

Several armed men came rushing down the stairs, yelling in a different language, all going to the exit. They stomped to the stairs and carefully breached the second floor of the building, shooting armed tangos using suppressed weapons. They had to act fast and stomp on their comms as soon as they're down so that the others outside will not fall back.

Ten guards were left behind to protect the second floor, and with the help of stealth, Gary and Price took them out smoothly. All that's left are the intel waiting to be harvested.

Gary snapped all possible evidence, every nook and cranny was investigated while Price tapped his heavy fingers on the keyboard.

"Looks like they're going large. They're planting something by the major cities cell towers. Here's one in Berlin." he muttered, printing a copy of the blueprints.

"Price! R-ch" Ghost's static crackled across their comms.

"Th- found- guards!

Get. Out. There. NOW." he added.

"Kill every civilian in there. That will let our little friends out of the shadows. I know they're after us…" a menacing voice said over Roach's stolen receiver.

"Shite. They're killing civvies." Gary said, worried.

"I'm sorry Roach. But we can't save them. It's a trap. Now protect that camera and let's get the fuck out of here." Price consoled as they continued pressing on toward the exit.

Screaming people followed by gunshots echoed across the white halls of the research facility, Gary didn't want to look back, Gary didn't want to hear any more screaming but it was all around him. Whoever commanded this act to be done must be eradicated from this world.

LOCAL MILITIA SETTLEMENT

Alex greeted the duo as soon as they stepped inside the village. It felt lively as everyone was celebrating their victory.

"Captain." Alex nodded and Price returned the gesture with a handshake.

"This is Blitz. Their leader." he added, introducing the man to Price.

"Thank you for helping us." Price acknowledged.

"No. Thank you for helping us. You have good men fighting for a good cause." he remarked, nodding at Alex and Gary. Gary also got acquainted with the leader, exchanged a few words and got offered soup.

"Tough day, huh?" Alex nudged over Gary, who's still sad about the situation earlier.

"You and me, both." Gary muttered as Alex patted his shoulder.

"We'll get him soon enough, Roach. Justice will be served." Alex consoled as Gary took a deep sigh.

"They're planting EMP bombs on major cell towers. Maybe incorporating it with them to perform large scale blasts." Gary pondered, taking a sip off the delicious soup.

"Yeah. That's our go signal. It's now a terror activity. Imagine a day without communication. International trade would crumble." Alex explained to which Gary nodded in agreement.

"Global cripple. People's minds get hurt, Economy gets hurt and we aren't focused enough to defend ourselves."

"That's what he's up to." Gary finished.

"And we have to stop it. Whatever It Takes." Alex looked at Gary with determination, that kind of pep talk that makes him a little less sad.

"Yeah." Gary agreed.

Another briefing, but this time, it was going somewhere. Operation Burn, the task is to eliminate Nero and all his allies, if possible. Funny enough, the real Nero burned everyone else. Whoever thought of this name was smart enough to connect the dots.

There's another person added to the team, the redhead leather jacket agent, Alexandra Ryder. An interpol agent tasked to destroy all traces of said EMP machinery. She looks tough, acts tough and basically is tough. France seemed to be going along well with her. That's a bonus for alliances such as these.

"So, I heard Price noted your sniper improvement." Ghost nudged.

"Yeah. Thanks Simon. Your training sucks but it helped a lot." Gary complimented.

"Tried talking to France and the new girl today." Ghost reported. Gary turned to him, clearly interested about his story.

"It was actually good. They're both intimidated by the mask and that's why they can't initiate conversation with me. But the talk went pretty well so I guess you needed to update your scoreboard or something." He muttered.

Gary chuckled. "That's one step towards her."

"I'll let the Interpol handle Berlin. Since it involves just the weapon, as for other news. I think it's time to transfer our two hostages back to the USA." Gary quickly turned his head back to the screen. No. It can't be. He had to stop this decision.

"With all due respect sir. I do not agree with this!" Gary stood up and all eyes were on him. He's still concerned about the welfare of the two plus he didn't want Maxine to leave. Not yet.

"I've read the report on their case sir. And it's not that I don't trust the system there but what if there's still another one in there with ties to Nero. He was able to slip by under our noses once or more times than that but let's consider the possibilities here." Gary explained as he looked around. Alex seemed to agree with him.

Shepherd let out a soft sigh.

"We'll discuss this possibility Sgt. Sanderson. You can sit down now." he said and resumed briefing.

"Brave move you did there, soldier." Ghost remarked as Gary let out a sigh. He wasn't sure on he's really concerned, the IP Address being extracted from Samantha or Maxine's smile that he will be missing if she left.

Next Chapter : The Heart Knows what the Brain doesn't

Notification Squad, my beloved

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