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overdrivels · 4 years

Text

Faint of Heart

You throw up your hands, waving them in a large sweeping ‘X’. “Nope! Nope, noppity-nope-nope-nope. We’re not doing this. No.”

“We must.”

“Are you crazy?” you hiss frantically between clattering teeth. You swing your arm at the scene outside the window, the one of mysterious packages getting loaded into nondescript delivery trucks heavily guarded by plain clothes mercenaries packing more heat than one of Soldier’s barbeques–omnic traffickers. “Look at these guys. No, we’re on a scouting mission, not a rescue one.”

Hanzo heavily resists the urge to roll his eyes or sigh or even shove a hand over your mouth just to shut you up. This is just a rehash of a conversion that you always seem to have with them. A suggestion comes up for something only slightly more dangerous than jaywalking across a street and you’re up in arms, claiming it’s too ‘dangerous’ or too ‘risky’.

Hanzo’s upper lip curls in disgust. A damn coward. Not just any coward–a coward without any conviction. What the hell were you doing here–in Overwatch, arguably the riskiest thing anyone could do in this climate, with some of the most dangerous people on the planet (and space)–when you were too scared to even leave your room half the time?

He glares at you, feeling nothing when you flinch. Hanzo adjusts the strap of his quiver. “We’re going.”

“We have to leave them. I know it’s not a good look, but we have to just take this info and go.”

“Then I’m going. You can stay here or go back.”

Leaving you behind would make his mission easier anyway. But you cling onto the sash around his hips like a child, refusing to let go. “It’s better if I’m with you.”

“Suit yourself,” he says briskly, yanking the sash away from your hands. He jumps out the window, scaling the building, not caring as you inch your way carefully onto the fire escape. He’ll be finished with this before you even manage to get halfway up to the roof. (Then he might have to be burdened with carrying you off the ladder–what a joy.)

Here, he has a clearer view.

There are ten goons out in the open. Two of them–drivers–are shooting the shit. He counts four more hidden, trying to be discreet as the others continue to load up the truck. From the looks of it, they’re a little more than half finished with their work. They can be taken care of last. Fourteen total.

This was originally a scouting mission (“Please use your discretion,” Winston told them. “REfrain from engaging except when necessary.”), but if they continue scouting without taking action, the omnics in that truck might never be found again. While he has no strong love for omnics, being around people like Tracer and Winston may have softened his opinion of them a little. Where a robot and machine once stood in his eyes, there is a glimmer of humanity, more so than what he has in himself, that’s for sure.

Hanzo nocks an arrow, pulling it back and waiting for the wind to sway. Once he gets them, he can swipe their devices, place them in a faraday bag, and bring them back to the base for analysis. If he can do this in the time it is supposed to take the shipment to reach its next destination, they could intercept it.

He takes a breath, the calm settling in his veins. The wind nudges at his hands. He releases his arrow.

Two of the goons go down. The others are slowly realizing. He has another one down before they’re able to draw their guns. The carriers drop their boxes, one of them opens, revealing an unresponsive omnic inside. A brush of anger sweeps past him. It’s gone by the time he has his next arrow ready–that one takes down another and pierces the hover mechanism in the truck, driving it into the ground and unable to move.

They’re turning round and round wildly, unsure. None of them meet his eye or even think of looking up here. At this rate, he can probably take down the rest of them without issue.

Something grabs Hanzo’s ankle.

“No, please! I don’t wanna die!”

Hanzo barely stops his foot from stomping your head in; the muscle in his thigh bunches so hard it aches. How did you manage to sneak up on him? You’re on your belly, covering your head with your arms, looking like you’re ready to be sick. Instinctively, he glances back down at the enemies–one, twothreefour…five—

Another tug at his ankle–didn’t you learn the first time?

“Ha, Hanzo. We can’t do this. We–we have to go.”

“Silence! We still have a chance.”

A slow sort of muted panic creeps into his bones as his mind scrambles to spot the last person. Where—?

You yank at his sleeve and he shrugs you off a little harder than he means to, but you’re insistent, a constant, desperate hiss in his ears. “I have a bad feeling; this is–this is an order. We have to retreat.”

Ignoring you, he prepares another arrow. He could place a trick shot and make it pierce two targets. That should lure out the last.

His eyes catch sight of an object flying upward. It takes him a half-second to recognize it.

They wouldn’t—

With his mouth agape, he barely manages to close it before you slam into him with your own body, almost making him bite his tongue off. Above him, a blast of light and sound rocks the skies, and it throws him off balance, his ears ringing without sound and vision bludgeoned by dust and debris.

Screams of “I fucking told you so, damn it!” accompany the ringing in his ears when the sounds finally become recognizable.

Shoving you off of him, he grabs at another arrow. He needs to find that last person–they must have more on them. He can’t let them slip away like this. But among his calculations of contingency plans, he didn’t expect you to groan, “I don’t feel so good.”

The sound of retching brings him back to reality–you’re slumped over, holding your head and throwing up what remains in your stomach.

Between the remaining goons who are trying their best to haul the rest of the ‘merchandise’ into the only functional truck they have and you who is more of a liability than anything, he huffs in annoyance as he comes to a decision.

He finds himself having to haul your limp body back. It is not guilt that adds urgency to his step.

---

“You take unnecessary risks–”

“My risks are calculated,” Hanzo shoots back just as sharply as any arrow. The bandages across his face dampens his claims.

“And they put the team in danger,” Soldier finishes firmly, slamming a fist on the table. The reverberating bang stuns everyone except Hanzo into silence. Hanzo, not one to be cowed by such messy tactics, only glares at Soldier over his nose.

“No. It is people with weak resolve who put themselves in danger.”

Winston raises a hand to silence them both. “That is quite enough. Agent Hanzo, I believe you were sent on a reconnaissance mission. Why did you feel the need to engage?”

“And you are comfortable with these omnics being sold illegally?” Hanzo asks coolly, challenging.

This is not the first time since Winston has taken the seat at the head of Overwatch that people have backsassed him or gone against his order. He doesn’t know if it’s because of his inexperience or because he’s simply not human, but dwelling on the individual prejudices of people never really helped him any.

“The mission, Agent Hanzo,” Winston says slowly, curling his hands together, “has a specific purpose for a long-term strategy. By saving these few omnics, we’ve now lost the trail on the entire operation. This sets us back several months of hard work. I believe you are aware of this.”

The conference room is ice cold and tense. Hanzo glares at him with a look that is half guilty and half irritated. Haltingly, he utters, “I…apologize. I will reflect upon my actions next time.”

“See that you do.” Winston then turns to the rest of the room. “We must have a back-up strategy ready. McCree, please get a quote from your friend in the shadows. We will have to pay her price for additional information. Tracer, please ensure the Orca is charged, I expect us to ship out in short order.”

“Yessir.”

“You’ve got it.”

“You are all dismissed.”

The room is quickly emptied of people with Hanzo being the first to leave, likely to train himself into exhaustion. With the door closed and himself alone, Winston lets a giant sigh escape him and he slumps in his chair, picking up his holotablet and turning it on.

Winston carefully thumbs the edge of the screen where your portrait–a half-nervous smile–and Hanzo’s–stern and threatening–look back at him. The two of you are a bad matchup on a good day. Neither of you get along, the difference in ideology drives a chasm between the both of you greater than the distance between Earth and Horizon Lunar Colony.

It was his idea to send you both on this mission. It’s his fault that you were being treated for a concussion. Winston heaved a fur-raising sigh. This is just another facet of management, he supposed. Even so, he does not regret his choice. For Hanzo who faces death like he thirsts for it, you’re the very best partner for him.

Many people questioned his judgment on the matter. McCree threatened to leave again, his tenure to Overwatch 2.0 held together only by the barest of threads and a promise that he’s going to protect you. Soldier: 76 berated him for inviting back people like you and Mei. He’s held back only by Shrike who laughs and says with painful familiarity, “I’ll take care of him.”

He rubs his eyes. Alone, in this dark, cavernous room where nightmares and doubts eat up every bit of space available, he can’t say he feels good about every time he sends everyone off, not knowing if such bright, talented people would ever return.

But that’s precisely why he accepted when you called them with shaking voice and hidden conviction.

Your mission is never to fight Talon. Your sole mission is to get everyone out alive.

---

The kitchen is only occupied by one other person when he leaves the gym showers. Mei is by herself slurping down the remains of what smells to be instant beef noodles. She offers him a smile which he vaguely returns and another bowl which he gladly accepts.

The impromptu dinner session turns into a rare venting session for him.

“–and I would have ended their entire operation if a certain someone wasn’t such a coward,” Hanzo barks, slamming his fist into the table.

Mei whispers, looking down at her folded hands, “You say ‘coward’ like it’s a bad thing. I’m not the bravest either.”

A strangled, inarticulate protest makes its way out of Hanzo’s throat. All the anger evaporates and he’s left with the strange urge to placate her. No. Mei is not like you. She’s here because she has something she believes in. She may be shaking in her boots when she’s forced to fight, but she believes in something and she has something to protect, made into a soldier, a criminal, when she could have had a respectable job elsewhere doing less dangerous things. She’s here in spite of her fear.

But you? You’re here—

The realization gives Hanzo pause.

Why are you still here?

There is no mission that you take that you do not voice your fears against.

You could have turned tail and ran away when he told you he was leaving you behind. You could have just not boarded the train with him to your destination.

If you really wanted to, you could have asked Winston to take you off the mission, and Winston–bleeding heart as he is–would never make you do something you strongly opposed.

No. Even before that. If you were truly so afraid, why did you come back to Overwatch in the first place? How did you wind up here?

Something isn’t adding up.

Your fear and hesitations and reservations are real—they’d better be for all the grief it’s caused him. But what was compelling enough to bring you here into the heart of danger? What is so magnetic that you have not yet left?

What is he missing?

“Hanzo? Are you okay?” Mei asks. He realizes he’s been quiet for far too long and attempts an awkward facsimile of a smile.

“Apologies. I was lost in my thoughts.”

“That happens to me, too. Especially when—” She chatters on and on, the solemn mood from before lifted between them. Inside, his doubts only grow stronger. Even after his conversation and cleaning up the remains of his impromptu meal with Mei, his questions are incessant and loud in his head, to the point they drive his feet away from his room in search for an answer.

When he arrives at your room in the medical bay, Ana is already there with a book in hand–she always did like paperback more than tablets, enamored with the way a story moves with the physical turn of a page, like a long journey that she herself is participating in.

She smiles when he walks in.

“You just missed visiting hours,” she says, gesturing at your prone form on the bed, breathing slow and relaxed. “We were having a nice chat up until ten minutes ago.”

“I see.”

“Did you have something you want to say?” she asks, almost knowingly.

Hanzo does not look at her, finding the bed sheets to be much more interesting. “No. I just came to…follow up.”

You don’t even have bandages on your head or any excessive external injuries to speak of. He probably looks worse off than you do, and that sets off another pang of irritation inside him that almost chases away all the questions he has.

The older woman chuckles behind her book, but not unkindly. She pats the empty seat beside her and Hanzo cautiously lowers himself into the seat as though he were sparing her some of the time he does not have. He does. She probably knows.

From here, the half-drawn curtain prevents him from seeing you and perhaps that’s a good thing. Out of sight, out of mind.

“Is it serious?”

“Angela said it was just a mild concussion, nothing to worry about.”

He nods. A mild concussion. That’s nothing–he’s had his head split open before and still managed to kill three people and make his way back home without blacking out.

“You’re wondering about the choice in staff.”

He only grunts in response.

So it was that obvious. He supposed he never made it much of a secret that he didn’t like your demeanor. It is not a conducive one, especially not in an organization like this. You may gather and compile data, but anyone can do that from the safety of their own home. You didn’t have to come here where you’re a literal sitting duck, unable to defend yourself if the base were to be raided.

So what brought you here?

Ana smiles mysteriously as she closes her book. “Such staffing choices are necessary.”

“Is that so?”

“You don’t think so?”

“No,” is his automatic reply. There’s no point keeping secrets from Ana. Age has only made her intuition sharper, he suspects.

“People who can sense danger and run at the slightest hint of it can save more lives than just their own. We need people like that if we want Overwatch to survive longer than the last time. They see the writing on the wall the fastest and find the quickest way out. It’s a vantage point that we”–Ana waves at the room with a good-natured chuckle–“do not have.”

“Is that so,” Hanzo says again, not entirely convinced of her reasoning, but unable to refute it so easily either.

“You should think about it. Variety is the spice of life, and goodness knows Overwatch is full of it.”

Hanzo sneers to himself. Full of it. Yes. Full of it, indeed. He takes one last lingering look at your shadow from behind the curtain, doubt and irritation painted in a newer light with Ana’s musings. He still does not agree someone like you should be here. He is no closer to figuring out why either, but it’s unlikely he’ll get an answer.

“…I will consider it,” he says finally, getting up from his seat. “Good night, then.”

“Good night to you, too. Sleep tight.”

After he leaves, Ana’s smile only grows.

“He’s gone.”

A dramatic sigh of relief comes from behind the curtain and she chuckles softly to herself.

“I thought he’d never leave. He’s scary as fuck,” you grumble. “I was so nervous I thought I was going to throw up again.”

“Good job; you held it in.”

“Don’t expect me to do that again.”

Ana opens her book again, leaning into her chair. “You are their leash. Until they learn to take your concerns seriously, I’m afraid these are the methods you’ll have to resort to.”

You grumble something unflattering beneath your breath. The curtain may as well not be there; Ana can guess what sort of expression you’re making. “Rest now. There will be much to do when morning comes.”

#my writing #my clients are just being unreasonable now #i was inspired to write this after reading a chapter from Sousou no Frieren #where a coward can be strong #it got me thinking about how Hanzo probably hates those types of people #but you know it's not always a bad thing to be afraid #that ensures survival #anyway i'm just rambling and trying not to go full professor mode on my cleints

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string-of-broken-hearts · 4 years

Note

Can we see your whumpee and whumper with daily dose day 37?

Hope I don’t disapoint also a special thanks for the editing skills of @whumperofthetristatearea !

Broken people and broken senses

“Here, maybe now you’ll learn your lesson,” Master said, practically throwing Alistair Finley into a damp cell, leaving their body crumpled on the hard, stone-cold ground of the cell. This one was certainly new. Master usually preferred a brightly lit cell so that all of Alistair’s beautiful scars would shine vividly in the harsh sunlight, leaving them exposed and vulnerable. After all, where can one hide from the light?

Looking around the cell, Alistair couldn’t see anything but gray blobs and dust particles floating in the air. They winced at the blinding light shining in from the doorway behind from where Master was standing, completely stark in contrast to the dim, low-lighting of the new cell. He scoffed at how weak his prisoner was, so easily broken.

Master stalked towards Alistair, a devious grin seeping onto his face as he glanced down at the helpless person. His prisoner shrinked back, trying their best to get away from their captor knowing full well of his capabilities.They were able to scoot themselves to the back of the cell wall, fearing their ever nearing Master. An even bigger sadistic grin crossed across their face as he reached for Alistair’s arm.

It really wasn’t too difficult to pry their hands from off their torso from where they hugged themselves. He clutched their left arm painfully, his nails digging into their flesh. He forcefully shoved their arm against the damp wall of the cell, restraining it with a handcuff attached to the wall. He then lunged for their other arm, latching onto it harder than their left arm, fingernails painfully ripping through it. They winced, shrieking when his hands dug in further, causing their arm to bleed.

“Stop screaming, would you? You’re causing me a splitting headache!” Master seethed angrily through clenched teeth. Alistair squirmed and tried their best to wiggle out of Master’s steel grip. Master merely laughed, a deep throaty chuckle that echoed around the room. Master slammed their arm against the wall and quickly restrained it, making Alistair the perfectly chained, immobile, prisoner that he always wanted.

“Oh! One last thing, my dear pet. I know you must value your senses, but I must take them away. After all, I wouldn’t want you to have any type of advantage without me.” Master chuckled, amusing himself.

Master turned out his pockets and revealed a small clear plastic bag. Opening it, he took out two orange looking objects and messed with them for a while.

“Here you go, darling. Enjoy! Don’t fret, I’ll be back soon. Or maybe not...” Master trailed off, placing the foreign objects into Alistairs’ ears. They immediately discovered that they couldn’t hear anything other than their own pounding heart resounding in their mind, echoing for what seemed an eternity.

Master waved his fingers before sharply turning on his heel and waltzing out of the cell. The muffled sound of the door slamming pounded in sync with their heartbeat, causing a horrid migraine to flare up in their mind. Their arms shook and shook, trying to free them from their restraints.

They didn’t know what they did to deserve this punishment. It was maddening. They had followed every rule, every instruction, and they’d done their very best to please them. But then again, sometimes even their best wasn’t enough to please Master.

They glanced around the prison cell, seeing nothing but dark spots that clouded their vision. A groan escaped their lips as their arms throbbed in pain from the scalding hot pinching that seared through them. They could feel their blood dripping down off of their arms and onto the cold stone flooring of the prison cell. The dreadful, stinging pain pulsed through their body in hot and cold flashes. They trembled, unable to see or hear a thing. Their body twitched and quivered partly due to the cold. The other part was due to the unrelenting fear that pulses through their body in white-hot flashes.

They continued to rattle and shake their arms, eventually causing blood to spring freshly from their wrists from the chafing. Their blood poured and poured. All the while, the stinging of the chilled metal cuffs dug in deeper and deeper into their wrists while the flickering pain came and went in waves cascading over them. Their heart pounded in sync with the throbbing of their wrists.

“How dare you?” A voice suddenly whispered in the shadows. They whipped their head all around, eyes darting quickly around the room, trying their best to scan the room. The more they looked, the more discouraged they became. No one around. Alistair shook their head so frantically they thought it would fall off any moment. No. It’s not possible. Their Master made sure that they couldn’t hear anything. He had put in earplugs. How was this happening?

“How dare you? How dare you go behind my back and get yourself thrown in jail?” The mystery voice said, rattling Alistair to their very core. They shook and trembled even harder, shrinking into themselves. They looked around, still fearing for their life.

“Who- Who’s out there?” They said, their voice cracking due to misuse.

“Your worst nightmare, darling…” The voice said, haunting Alistair. Alistair shrunk back against the wall despite not seeing the real threat.

“What- What do you-you want?” They said, their voice fuzzy and muffled. They could barely hear any sounds around them or from them. It was disturbing to them.

“You…” The voice somehow magically evolved. A sick feeling washed over Alistair as they felt a tingle across their face. It was almost as if something, or someone, was caressing their face… It was all too much for them. They shuddered and lurched away from their invisible threat.

“Oh relax already, would you? I’m not going to hurt you. At least not yet, my dearest pet. I’m just here to help you. Let’s get you out of this cell, hm?” Hope started to swell in Alistair’s chest. They were finally getting rescued. Just how long had it been? It really hadn’t taken much to break them, that was for sure. They cursed themselves for being so weak and vulnerable. How could they allow themselves to be controlled that easily in such a little amount of time in the cell anyway?

But they were bleeding. They were scared out of their mind. They were starved, tired, beaten, broken, and neglected. They just couldn’t take it anymore. They would pounce at any chance of rescue. They were going to get out of this ghastly cell and into beautiful, blissful freedom, even if it killed them. They vowed to themselves to do whatever the voice said, no matter how risky or confusing and contradicting it was.

“Oh just look at you, so perfect and broken in every beautiful way… Well, I suppose the first thing to do is let you out of there. Tell you what, if you can get out of those restraints I will let you walk out of there alive. No harm done. Deal?”

“De-deal.” They said, before they could weigh in their options.

They set about freeing themselves. They twisted their wrists in all sorts of exaggerated positions in the vain hopes of loosening the handcuffs. Sure, they knew it was futile and hopeless, but they had to try. They just had to. At any cost.

After an unknowable amount of time, they gave up. It was hopeless. They were never getting out of those bindings.

“Oh, what a pity. And you tried so hard too… Well, there’s always next time. If there is a next time… You’re mine for now.”

“Who- who even ar-are you?” They asked, their breathing growing ragged, choppy, and thick as the air around them grew dangerously cold and heavy. The cold seeped into their body, a piercing chill ran through their body. The cold stung them, chilling them down to their very bone. Their teeth began to chatter and their trembling grew. They curled up into themselves as best they could, scared out of their mind.

“Who do you think? I swear you are such an idiot. What a good for nothing… Who do you want me to be? Your fairy godmother? Oh, do I have news for you then, sweetheart. I’m your Master. Always have been, always will be.” That sent a chill down their spine. If the voice was Master, then Master was here. In his head. Reading his thoughts.

“Correct. It is I, your blessed savior. Here to rid you of any unsettling thoughts you may have escaped. We certainly must weed them out, now mustn’t we darling?”

“Ye-yes si-sir.” They shuddered at their fuzzy voice, unaware of how it sounded. Their head ached and their body grew excessively hot and cold with each passing minute. Their skin burned and they wanted to claw at it so badly. It felt as if the wrath of a thousand sunburns had found its way onto their skin. It was itchy and uncomfortable. Their heartbeat spiked, pounding in their mind. Sweat became ever more evident as it dripped down their forehead and onto their thighs, despite the fact that it was freezing in their cell.

“Well, I suppose it seems as if you have a fever breaking out… I guess I’ll leave it to you then, darling. You are more than capable of figuring it out,” Master’s voice spoke, leaving them to practically radio silence on his end. They were alone again. Alone at last. However, they weren’t sure which they loathed more: being alone or being with their Master invading their thoughts.

They didn’t have to dwell on it for long. Their body soon pulled them out of their thoughts and into the present. The stinging pain in their arms came rushing back, along with their terrible, terrible migraine. The pain stabbed and pulsed, causing Alistair’s body to convulse and twist, trying to get their body moving and distracted.

Deprived of their sight, sound, and taste, they could feel every wound so much stronger. The pain was the only stimulus that they got, the only thing to feel or experience. Was it really too bad to long for the feeling that the pain gave them? Was it really too bad to ask for pain to have some stimulus, even a little? They thought, drifting off to sleep.

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

“Well, during their period of isolation, they experienced hallucinations from a horrible amount of mental torture. Their wounds became infected and the skin around their arms and wrists are extremely damaged,” the unknown voice says. Their eyes have yet to open, but they listen as the person continues, “Oakland, you must be careful. They are more than likely going to be a handful, so I hope you know what you are doing. You must treat them as you would any other charge, understand?”

“Yes. Thank you, sir.” Alistair opened their eyes. Oh dear god where am I? Why is it so goddamn bright? They had no answer. They slowly opened their eyes to reveal a cruel and unforgiving bright light that blinded them. They couldn’t see, but at least they could hear slightly. But why does it feel like everyone is yelling?

Sharp sounds greeted their ears as they became more awake and aware of their situation. Their wrists and arms ached. Their head pound. Everything was too bright. And it was too loud.

Every sound felt like razor blades clawing and slashing at their brain, every pitch or sound sent their migraine off the rails crazy. Every light burned into them. It felt horrible to breathe, to hear, to see. Everything hurt.

Their hands immediately clasped their ears, and without thinking, they clutched them harder than humanly possible. Everything was so loud. Every sound felt like screeches and sharp needles poking at them. They shut their eyes so tight that it would take a crowbar just to untighten them.

Why was everything so loud? Since when did the ticking of the clock become a torture in itself? Since when did any sudden change in light, sound, temperature, and feeling become such a burden? Since when did nothing make sense? Their head was spinning and they curled up into a ball, not caring where they were or who they were with. Just make it stop. P-Please. I’m beg-begging. Just make the pain en-end…

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writingforthethinkers · 5 years

Text

Dust - Part 3

Marvel

Pairing: Peter Parker X Stark!Reader

Word Count: 3690 (Yeah, I know, sorry, but it wouldn’t have worked if I split it to more than one part)

Warning: grief, endgame spoilers, injuries, angst to the max

Summary: A continuation of my fanfic of Infinity War, set in the plot of Endgame.

A/N: Before I begin, I just wanted to let everyone know who is reading this that I wasn’t happy with Endgame. The treatment of female, LGBT and POC representation was appalling and in 2019 you would expect us to be a lot further along than we are now. The ending of Game of Thrones also had the same problems, showing just how poorly women, LGBT and POC are treated in media. I don’t really know how I would have changed Endgame here to better represent people without changing the whole movie, but I hope by having a female character - who by all means can be a person of colour or LGBT, I make sure to leave it as unspecific as possible so you can put yourself into (Y/N) - having a bit more agency and involvement in the plot will let you know that we do deserve representation, and it is not okay that we are not getting it. Also, Nat deserved better, so I’m giving her better. Hope you enjoy it.

Dust, Part 2

I give no warning before hand when I arrive at the Avengers compound, sitting in the backseat of one of my dad’s old cars he wired to be able to drive itself. Pepper offered to drive me, but I wanted to come alone. This was something I wanted to keep my mom and Morgan far away from. I’d also managed to fill the car with holograms and projections of various ideas for a time machine. Jumping between them all, I pulled different aspects from each that I thought were most likely to work, trying to combine them into something that would give us the best possible chance to bring them all back.

My heart leaps in my chest. I try my best to disassociate what I’m planning and building from the implications of what it could mean. The thought of my dad and Peter gives me so much hope that I feel fear churning in my stomach, an emotion that throws me so much I can barely think straight. So, I refocus on the holograms.

“Miss Stark,” the robotic voice of the car pulls me from my thoughts, “we are here.”

Looking up towards the doors of the compound I see Nat and Steve already rushing out and making their way towards the car. With a deep intake of breathe that falls between a sigh and a shaky gasp, I close all the holograms and open the car door, stepping out.

They both look confused, but hopeful. Steve has a glint in his eyes that suggests he knows what I’m about to say while Nat’s lips are curved up ever so slightly, you would have to know her personally for a long time to be able to notice it. They don’t say anything, waiting for me to say why I’m on their doorstep. I sigh again, thinking about my dad and Peter, my mom and Morgan.

“I’m in.”

Steve and Nat’s faces crack into smiles, and I cannot resist the urge to let my face do the same.

---

I’ll admit, I really was hoping I’d get through the whole time travel plan without having to feel much. I was hoping it would be all serious and down-to-business, like the good ‘ol days when I went on missions to an icy tundra to take down a baddie with my second family of superheroes and it would end with us all going home for takeout. This mission did not end up like that. I had agreed to join Steve to go back for the Tesseract, which meant going back to the attack on New York and Thor’s chaotic brother.

Seeing my dad again, years younger and still alive, I wanted nothing more than to just give up. Grab him and drag him back to the present with me. It wouldn’t take long to catch him up. Then I thought of Peter, his laugh echoing in my head and his smile painted like a mural in my mind. The other half of the population also rushed to the forefront of my mind, the smiling faces on missing person posters from when Thanos first snapped his fingers plastered in front of my eyes.

We’re the Avengers, there is no giving up. Quickly wiping my tears, we managed to get the tesseract without any hiccups.

But seeing my dad again wasn’t the end of the heartbreak. Returning to the present and watching Clint fall to his knees as he returned alone felt like my lungs were about to collapse in on themselves.

“There must be some way to bring her back.” I hear a voice reason, but they sound a million miles away as my hearing muffles and my vision blurs with tears. All I can think about is how I’ve lost someone else. Another part of my family gone.

“It was her life as a trade for the soul stone.” Another voice says, sorrow matching how I feel. “It was the only way.”

Then my mind starts to whir as the cogs turn and I take in a deep breathe. Wiping my eyes, I manage to pull myself together enough to think straight.

“We can get her back,” I say, and all eyes turn to me. “In the same way we got the stones.”

Most of the people before me look confused, some go to object, but I cut them off.

“I know we have to return the stones to the exact spot we took them from. But couldn’t we do the same with Nat? We only have to make sure she returns to that point in time to sacrifice herself to get the soul stone. But who’s to say she can’t live her life before then?”

Faces of confusion change to understanding. Bruce almost looks like he is going to smile.

“So, we go back and get Nat, bringing her to the present like we did the stones. She gets to keep living, and only has to return to that time before she dies,” Bruce reiterates, taking a moment to think it through “that could work.”

“It would be risky, and she would probably have to give up being an Avenger. But if any of us deserve to retire, it’s Nat. Especially after this.” I state.

“Then let’s go,” Clint says, already getting to his feet and moving to put his helmet on again.

“Wait,” I stop him, “we should wait until we’ve reversed everything. If something goes wrong and it puts her in danger – because we all know she would be there fighting alongside us – we could put the future in jeopardy.”

There is a round of nods and mumbles of agreement. A feeling of determination rises in the air.

“Then let’s reverse everything.”

---

Sometimes I hate being right all the time. Not bringing Nat back there and then was definitely the right choice, seeming as, as soon as Bruce snapped his fingers while wearing the gauntlet, supposedly bring back the other half of the universe, the compound promptly exploded. In all the confusion, I managed to make it up through the rubble and was met with the bane of my life. The looks on Steve and Thor’s faces as they joined me amongst the remains of the compound seemed justification that Thanos was also the bane of their lives.

Pushing the manic thought of how the other half of the universe was mostly likely alive again – dad, Peter, I turned my attention to the titan that wanted to take it all away from me. Again. Memories of a blade slicing through my dad’s stomach, of him and Peter turning to dust in my arms. Anger boiled in my blood.

I barely registered most of the fight. At one point I’m pretty sure Steve had Thor’s hammer, but I was so blind with anger and pain and loss and heartbreak that all I could focus on was blasting Thanos to high hell. The warning signs my suit flashed in my face as I took hit after hit, dealing him my fair share too, only proved to annoy me. Eventually, I took my helmet off. The frenzy had died down and I appeared to be the only one standing apart from Thanos. Pain crept through my body, but I ignored it. I felt Steve struggle to his feet next to me.

Thanos takes this time to monologue, and I watch as his army comes to join him. I don’t really know what is happening. I don’t know where the other half of the universe is, if Bruce’s use of the gauntlet even brought them back. I don’t know if mom and Morgan will be safe after this, I don’t know if I’ve ended what little happiness we had. I don’t know how this is going to end, or how I’m going to die.

But I do know I’m not going down without taking as many of Thanos’ army – if not the mad titan himself – down with me.

I glance at Steve. He doesn’t say anything, but his eyes seem to be projecting the same thing. He grips what is left of his shield and I clench my fists, feeling the energy charging through my suit.

A voice crackling through the intercoms in our ears makes us pause. At first, the words are impossible to make out, but soon we understand them.

“On your left.”

As if on que, the sound of a portal pulls our attention to behind us. I can already feel a grin clawing at my face when I realise the voice is Sam’s, but triumph courses through me when the portal opens enough for three figures to step through it. Okoye, T’Challa and Shuri. The latter decides now is the time for a wiggle of her eyebrows and confident wink. I actually laugh at the surreal cockiness of my friend.

My friend, I think. Living and breathing.

It doesn’t end there. The sound of other portals surrounds us, and I turn completely to watch, ignoring Thanos entirely. Some are massive, allowing whole armies to pass through them, while others are smaller with only a few figures emerging. One in particular catches my eyes. Doctor Strange comes through first, followed by the Guardians and then two more people.

I feel like my heart is going to explode. Peter swings through the portal, landing on a large slab of rock. My dad just walks out, his suit fully on but he quickly loses the helmet, looking directly at me.

‘I love you,’ he mouths, the words clear as day on his lips from the amount of times I’ve remembered him saying them to me.

All I can do is smile in disbelief, feeling tears cut their way through the dirt and dust on my face. Steve’s words stop me from running to them, reminding me of where we are.

“Avengers,” he shouts, making me tear my eyes from my dad and Peter and turn back to Thanos, putting the helmet of my suit back on. Steve finishes the phrase in a chilling whisper. “Assemble.”

And we attack. United, it is clear Thanos doesn’t stand a chance.

I attack with the same ruthlessness I did before the portals opened, but this time it is spurred not by the determination of a last stand, but the strength of winning a final battle. Unfortunately, my injuries from fighting Thanos one on one come back to haunt me, making my movements slower and I make more mistakes. I’m soon backed into a corner against the remains of a wall, surrounded by Thanos’ soldiers. My suit screams at me to get myself away, but I cannot escape, and for the first time since the battle began I feel a surge of panic.

Then the soldiers are attacked from two sides – one attacker closer than the other – and soon they are all gone. The helmet of my suit comes down again so I can breathe as I slump to the floor, deciding I deserve a few seconds of time out.

“(Y/N), are you alright?”

“Mom?” I look up to see Pepper, heading towards me, crouching down next to me and taking my face in her hands. Her eyes are filled with concern, but it is difficult to register as I try to figure out how she is here. “What are you doing here?”

“I told you I supported you, didn’t I? How was I supposed to do that from back home?” She tucks some of my hair behind my ear, her other hand still cupping my face.

“Who’s babysitting Morgan?”

“Who’s Morgan?”

Both mine and my mom’s eyes grow to the size of dinner plates at the voice. We scramble to our feet, but we are almost knocked to the ground again at the sight of my dad.

“Tony,” my mom whispers, before running to him. They meet in the tightest hug possible for two people wearing big metal suits, eyes already watering with tears. They’re both mumbling loving words to each other, and all I can do is stand there watching.

“You coming in for a hug too, kid?”

He doesn’t need to ask me again as I sprint towards them, letting them engulf me in a joint hug that I have waited so long for. I bury my face in my dad’s neck.

“I missed you,” I tell him, the taste of my own tears on my lips.

“I missed you too,” Tony replies, hand moving to the back of my head.

The three of us stay in that hug for longer than we should while in the midst of the biggest battle of the universe, but Thanos himself couldn’t have pried me from my parents’ arms then. It was my dad who eventually ended the hug. Pulling back, he looked between me and my mom.

“So, are you going to tell me who Morgan is? Is she the new dog or gerbil?”

My mom laughs, moving her hand up to my dad’s face.

“She’s your daughter.”

My dad’s face splits into a grin, and he looks to me for confirmation. I just nod, realising there is not a single difference between my dad’s grin and Morgan’s. I’m almost about to pull up a photo of her with my suit to show him when we’re interrupted.

“(Y/N)!” The sound of a person landing is heard from behind me, and my name on their lips is the greatest sound I’ve ever heard.

“Peter!” I shout, sprinting at him the same way I did to my dad seconds before, only this time I manage to take Peter to the ground with this hug. He pulls me close, arms tight around my body. He’s rambling in the same way he always used to, telling me about how he woke up and came through the portal.

I don’t really register his words, pulling back to look at his face, taking in every feature I’ve only been able to imagine for the past five years. I faintly make the connection that we’re in the same position we were when he died, but it doesn’t affect me as I cut him off with a kiss, pulling his face as close to mine as I can. Peter responds in kind, hands cupping my face as he relaxes into the kiss. We pull apart with slightly swollen lips and dopey grins.

“That was nice,” Peter sighs.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do that,” I tell him, about to lean in for another.

“Would you mind waiting a little longer? It appears we’re still in the midst of a battle.” My dad interrupts us before we can kiss again, Peter’s cheeks becoming a strong pink as I feel heat rise to mine. We’re quick to get back to our feet, but still stay close.

“Right, yeah, it can wait,” I reply, getting myself ready to carry on fighting, “only been five years, but sure I can go a little longer. No biggie.”

We all just stand there smiling at each other for a moment before being rudely interrupted by some of Thanos’ soldiers and we’re back in the action again. Continuing to fight, I manage to stay close to all three of them to some extent, as we all make sure we have each other’s backs in some way. The fight continues for a little longer, until somehow it is me, my dad and a few other Avengers up against Thanos. Somehow the titan manages to overpower most of us, despite losing the gauntlet. I try to make my way towards it, but that only results in me being thrown far out of the way, slamming into a large chunk of rubble that manages to wind me despite the suit. However, it gives my dad a window to get close to the gauntlet.

I can only watch as he hovers over it, looking up at Strange who holds up one finger. It takes me a moment to work out what he means. One in fourteen million.

No.

Iron Man and Thanos both jump for the gauntlet. From where I am slumped, unable to move as my suit desperately tries to mend both itself and me, I don’t see who manages to get it. They fight, close combat, and I remember the last time that happened. I was in the exact same position; paralysed and unable to help. They eventually break apart, the gauntlet on Thanos’ hand. He looks triumphant, but I can see what he is missing.

“I am inevitable.” He snaps his fingers, expecting to win but receiving nothing.

I look at my dad, stumbling to his feet, the hand of his suit bejewelled with the infinity stones. He turns his hand, so they are in plain view of Thanos and utters one final famous phrase.

“I am Iron Man.”

And he snaps.

The battle comes to a sudden end. We all watch as Thanos’ army turns to dust, the titan soon following them. My suit manages to stop screaming at me and I scramble out of it, leaving it beaten and broken behind as I stumble to where my dad lies. Everyone else isn’t far behind.

“Dad,” I cry out, already at his side. He doesn’t answer, just looks into my eyes. I hold his gaze, trying desperately to ignore his mutilated arm. I soon feel my mom and others join me. I can hear Peter breaking down, and the sorrow of everyone surrounds me. My dad is going to die right in front of me. Again.

My mom tries to hold me as she speaks to him, assuring him how everything is okay. I barely feel anything, leaning into her slightly as my eyes drift to his hand, the infinity stones still sitting in the burnt remains of his suit. One last stupid, reckless idea springs to my mind through all of the grief. I may not be allowed to live out my life with my dad, but Morgan deserves to know him. As Pepper leans in to kiss his cheek, I take my opportunity to pry one of the stones off Tony’s hand. The purple hue almost speaks to me, telling me what to do.

Admittedly, plunging it into my chest to wield as much of its power as I could was probably not the best idea, but I could already feel it tearing my hand apart so making it as much a part of myself as possible seemed the best option. I hear voices cry out my name, but I ignore them, pushing through the immense pain and focusing solely on my dad. I put every ounce of my being into reversing his pain, healing him.

I lose consciousness before I know if I was successful or not.

---

The beeping of a monitor in time with a heartbeat is the first thing I notice. It takes me a little while to work out it is my heartbeat. Slowly opening my eyes, I find I’m lying in my own bed. An IV drip is connected to my arm and my desk is littered with ‘get well soon’ cards and large bouquets of flowers.

What I don’t understand most about the situation is I feel completely fine. Sitting up, my condition doesn’t change, so I pull off everything attached to me and get up, making my way towards the door. I hear murmurs of voices that sound like they’re coming from downstairs. Slowly making my way out I walk towards the stairs, soon discovering that pretty much everyone I know is in my living room.

Morgan is the first to notice me as I’m halfway down the stairs. She gasps, making everyone look at her, before sprinting towards me. I catch her at the bottom of the stairs, picking her up and hugging her close to me. The last thing I remember is intense pain and the destruction of a battle, so it is a nice change to be suddenly back in my own home with my little sister.

And the world and his brother. I’m soon engulfed by people, asking me questions and saying my name, but most keep their distance. Except for my parents, who hover around me like I’ll break at any moment and Peter who is the only person to treat me normally, running to give me a hug just like Morgan.

“Hey, okay, listen. I’m fine! What’s going on?” I ask, and everyone quietens down. “What?”

“Look down.” My dad instructs as he nods at my chest. I’m overjoyed to seem him perfectly fine, and with a confused look I do as he says.

“Oh.” A purple light shines from underneath the fabric of my t-shirt. I pull the shirt down enough so I can see what it is, finding out it’s the infinity stone I pried from the others embedded in my skin. “What the…”

“You should be dead,” my dad states bluntly, earning him a nudge from my mom, “but I think the stone is keeping you alive.”

I begin to notice the tingling of power in my fingertips. Maybe it is giving me more than just a second chance to live. I don’t mention it to anyone.

“But if the stone is keeping me alive, how do we return it to where we took it from?”

“Looks like you’ll have to do the same as me.” Nat emerges from the group of people still surrounding me, and despite what she just said I run at her with a grin on my face and pull her into a tight hug.

“So be it,” I reply, “I’m alive. We all are.”

Looking around, I smile at the faces of everyone I know. The people we brought back, the people who survived. I look to my family, Pepper’s arm around Tony’s waist while Morgan sits grinning in her father’s arms. I look to Peter with his warm eyes and charming smile. I imagine kissing him again and again once everyone gets out of my house. The idea of living a normal life with everyone I love thrills me to the core.

“We won,” I state, relishing in the feeling.

#marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel imagine #endgame #avengers endgame #peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #stark!reader #tony stark x daughter!reader #peter parker x stark!reader #fanfiction #fanfic

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purplesurveys · 4 years

Text

988

survey by ashleybayle

Has anyone ever told you that you looked like a celebrity? Yeah. The most popular opinion I get is Anna Akana and a local singer named Kakie, and then more occasionally I’ve also gotten Lucy Hale. Of course, all of these people are absolutely gorgeous though so it’s hard to accept comments like these lol

When was the last time you got something done to your hair? Professionally, late February. But I trimmed my bangs last Saturday.

Do you have any change on you right now? Barely. I only have a few 1-peso coins and a couple of 25-cent coins left.

What color is the pillowcase(s) on your bed? They’re pink with white lines.

Do you have a favorite day of the week? I like Monday mornings because we have weekly video calls for work and it’s really the only time I get to talk to other people anymore. Even if I can’t really count any of my colleagues as my friends, I’m able to get the human connection I’ve been hungry for and it always leaves me feeling good for the rest of the day.

Cutting your hair extremely short, would you do it? Yeah. That’s what I did last February; I’d do it again once my hair gets too long. I’ll probably go even shorter the next time because depression.

Have you ever been in an art show? I’ve been to art exhibits, if you’re referring to the same thing.

Would you considered yourself to be well-exposed to life or sheltered? I was sheltered for most of my life but I’ve been trying to get exposed to more scary life things so that I slowly start to detach from people I used to normally depend on, like my parents.

How high is your pain tolerance? Not high at all. I bruise like a peach and have near-meltdowns over sharp objects especially if I get pricked by one.

Have you ever played the game Halo? I don’t think so. I could have watched others play it in the past, but I’ve never played the game myself.

Are you wearing any jewelry at the moment? No I’m not.

Is there a sport that you love to play? Table tennis! Futsal was also fun the one or two times I played it, and it was in playing that sport that I learned I apparently make a good goalkeeper. In an alternate universe I probably play football, ha.

Has anything made you sad in the past 48 hours? Yes. That’s a constant state of mind now.

Have you ever had to learn lines for a play/skit/movie? Yes. We were required to do so many skits in high school so making scripts and memorizing lines was part of a normal day.

Do you like your nose? I’ve never complained about it. I don’t normally think about my nose either.

Is there a hair color you prefer on the opposite sex? No.

Kissing someone with facial hair, do you mind? I’ve never tried it, so I don’t have a solid opinion.

Would you ever like to be a stunt person? Sounds fun but I’m barely physically fit for such a role and I’d break a bone almost immediately. Even professional stunt people get injured, so...

Are you a pyromaniac? The furthest thing from it. I’m terrified of fire.

How soon is your birthday? Six months and a day.

Are you one of those people who listen to songs on repeat? Isn’t everyone prone to doing that once in a while? But yeah, I guess I’m ‘one of those’ people.

Can any of your friends sing very well? Lots of em. Hannah, Tina, Ed, Andi, Michelle, Nacho, etc.

Would you ever enter any kind of pageant? That does not sound interesting to me.

Do you have piano fingers? No :(

What is your preferred curse word? Fuck.

When someone's drunk, the truth comes spilling out, correct? I guess, for some people. Other people express their drunkenness in other ways. But I for sure lose my filter once I’m drunk; it’s a lot easier to ask me questions once I’ve had a few glasses, ha.

Have you ever shouted something random at someone out a car window? I’m sure I’ve rolled down my windows to cuss out a stupid driver once or twice.

Have you ever slept on a beach? No. I know my mom does, but I personally find it risky/dangerous. When it comes to open spaces like the beach, I find it hard to trust people to not be thieves.

Would you like to be taller? It’s not an active wish of mine. It’d always be cool to be taller, but I’m also okay with my current height.

Are you a fan of piercings on the opposite sex? Not necessarily. I wouldn’t say I’m attracted to them.

Have you ever listened to Celtic music? Nope.

Do you enjoy making up words? I’ve never done that, no.

Have you ever been attacked by an animal? Aside from the time a giant bird kind of charged at me at a safari and getting playbites from Cooper, no. Cats hiss at me all the time, but I get out of their vicinity before they can attack me or whatever.

Who did you dance with last? Rita, Blanch, Mik, Laurice, Jum, a bunch of strangers.

When holding hands, do you intertwine fingers? Yeah. That’s my favorite.

Is there a movie that makes you cry every single time you watch it? This is gonna get some eyerolls but...Titanic. Forever one of my faves no matter how overrated people find it, hahaha. The “Rose Dawson” scene gets me all the time.

Do you ever talk to the TV? I mean if I have comments about the show I’m watching, yeah I guess I’m technically talking to the TV. But I don’t talk to the TV like a camera, if that’s what you mean.

What's your opinion on Johnny Depp? I feel for him and all the shit he’s gone through with Amber Heard. I’ll always feel bad for having sided with Amber in the past. Movie-wise, not really a fan of his repertoire but I respect his craft and abilities nonetheless.

Have you ever watched the Tudors? Nah but I hear of it a lot, so I’ve always been interested.

Can you speak in different accents? No. My dad’s super good at accents though since he travels a lot for his job. He can do American, Indian, Singaporean, Chinese, Australian, etc.

Who was the last person you mocked/mimicked? The annoying person at the BIR who wasted my time.

If you write, isn't writer's block the most horrible thing? I’d say it’s inconvenient, but it’s not the worst of my worries whenever it strikes.

Can you sew or knit? No but I’ve made up my mind about learning how to :) I put some cross-stitch kits on my online shopping cart recently and I can’t wait to get my hands busy.

Do you have a favorite pair of jeans? Yesssss. They’re the only pair of jeans I wear these days, on the rare times I have a reason to go out.

What size shirt do you normally wear? XS.

Are you good with money? I’m good with saving if I absolutely have to, but I’m equally good at spending all my money in one go lol

Has anyone ever aimed a gun at you? No. Don’t know how well I’d fare in that; I tend to freeze up and forget words when I’m terrified.

What is the first letter of the person's name you last kissed? G.

Do you use myspace for following celebrities, and facebook for friends? I never regularly used Myspace, and Facebook is for sharing memes, staying updated on the news, and connecting with family and friends. At least up until I deactivated last month.

Have you ever written a song? Maybe in grade school when it was an assignment for class, but never on my own time.

Do you believe there is life on other planets? Other planets in other galaxies perhaps in other universes, sure.

If you think about the universe long enough, it's baffling isn't it? Doesn’t take long for me, but yes it is.

When was the last time you fell? I haven’t in a while.

Are you a fan of Christian Bale? I wouldn’t say so. I don’t think I’ve seen any of his movies. I’ve been meaning to watch American Psycho for years but just never got around to it.

Do you have any sort of debt? No.

Is there an accent you prefer? I don’t know if prefer is the right word since I don’t have any favorite accents, but hmmm I can listen to Florence Pugh’s accent all day.

Have you spoken to the person you love today? Yep.

Would you ever travel to Los Angeles? If given the chance sure, but I honestly prefer other cities.

Have you ever been through a natural disaster? A lot of them.

Is there a specific time period that interests you? I don’t think I’ve ever been hooked to just one specific era...I’m interested in all of them and read about them an equal amount.

Do any of your friends own an expensive car? JM used to drive a Lexus to school on Fridays.

Have you ever been on a train? Just once. I had to go to Manila for a journalism class but I wasn’t willing to drive all the way there, so I took a train and had Jum keep me company because I didn’t know how commuting worked.

Is there a memory that embarasses you to think about? I mean yeah, there are a lot.

Have you ever used different colored paper clips? Possibly.

Where exactly are you right now? In a corner in my room.

Don't you admire those people who know exactly what they want to do? I admire anyone who’s able to make the best of what they’ve got, no matter what their progress is in life. Life shouldn’t be a contest of who gets their shit figured out the earliest or the best way possible.

Is there a guy you can talk to about anything? No.

Have you ever been in a parade? I know I said in a previous survey that I haven’t been to a parade, but now that I think about it I’ve been to several Pride Marches, which kinda count as parades...so yeah, I have been.

Would you ever consider being a news reporter? My entire family wanted me to end up being one, but it was never an interest of mine. I was just too shy to tell them that that’s not really my goal. I like staying behind the camera for the most part.

Are you, or anyone you know, an atheist? Yes and yes, I know several people who are.

Has anyone ever told you to "get a grip"? I don’t think I’ve ever gotten those exact words before.

Do people say you look your age? Or younger or older? Younger.

Have you ever sent a celebrity fan mail? Kind of. Five years ago my friend Heather and I were at YouTube Fanfest where Joe Sugg, Caspar Lee, and Oli White were part of the line-up, and we didn’t anticipate that so many fans would come with gifts even though there was no guarantee of meeting them. We came up with a little gift of our own, which was really nothing more than a tiny post-it saying that we love them lmao (we went to the venue straight after school, hence Heather having school supplies HAHA). It was such a poor-looking gift. We went to their assistant who was SUPER nice about it and didn’t make us feel like shit for our gift which was pretty much worthless and could easily get lost – it was literally a piece of post-it. I doubt it ever got to them, but we gave it a shot anyway.

Are you ashamed of how you acted when you were younger? Some parts of it, definitely. I grew up in a violent household, so I was violent towards my brother when he was a baby, not knowing how serious my actions were. I was also a pain in the ass while I was going through puberty.

Do you ever have those days where you feel you're the ugliest person ever? Yes.

Beauty is both external and internal, correct? Sure.

Have you ever been in a musical? Yeah, in grade school through high school. Never had a solo role, though.

When was the last time you swam in a pool? July 2019.

Is there a friend's family that makes you feel like you're family too? Angela’s. At one point, Katreen’s too, before we grew apart.

How do you know someone is your best friend? When I don’t feel like filtering my words around them, and when I allow myself to be fully vulnerable with them.

When was the last time you used a highlighter? Sometime in February I’m guessing. Before the lockdown and when I still went to school and had readings.

Has a flashlight ever ran out batteries on you in the dark? I don’t think so.

#survey #surveys

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gellavonhamster · 5 years

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my strange uncles from abroad

gen || Frank Denouement, Ernest Denouement, Beatrice Baudelaire Jr., Lemony Snicket || post-canon

ao3 link || originally posted in Russian

My strange nephews from abroad I'll meet them on the cosmos streets And we will drink to how we never told you To trust a plastic beat

Bright open eyes, they are still looking They are still finding A few unpoisoned hearts No matter where you are exiled – Gogol Bordello, My Strange Uncles from Abroad

“Mr. Epilogue! Mr. Epilogue, there’s a letter for you!”

“A letter?” Frank asked absentmindedly, his eyes still on the list of guests. He needed to cross out that family from Zagreb: they had just called and cancelled their reservation.

“For you and your brother, Sir.”

“I’ve picked up the mail from the mailbox literally an hour ago. Did they really deliver anything else?”

“No, Sir,” the maid shook her head. “It was lying on the windowsill in the third-floor hall.”

Frank frowned. His experience showed that the letters appearing from nowhere on the windowsills and cornices and balconies rarely contained good news.

“Give me the letter.”

“I was thinking,” the maid began to gabble, “that maybe you dropped the envelope when you were picking up the mail and some guest picked it up, only it’s strange they’d put it on the wind…”

“Miss Blumenfeld,” Frank interrupted her, “would you kindly give me the letter?”

The girl pursed her lips, handed him the envelope, and walked away, swinging a feather duster fretfully.

The envelope was pretty crumpled. There was no stamp, no return address – nothing but his and Ernest’s current surname and place of employment, something that barely anyone should have known. Perhaps in vain they had hoped that it would be enough just to flee abroad, change their names, and destroy the old passports; they should have taken it a step further and faked their death like Dewey once did. Perhaps if they hadn’t been in such a hurry to disappear, they would have considered that.

Ernest should have been on the third floor, presumably; Frank, of course, was not his brother’s keeper. He ought to find him so that they would open the envelope together: after all, the letter was addressed to both of them. On the other hand, there was no telling what was in that envelope. What if it contained something poisonous? As fantastic as such guess would have seemed to a third party, it was more than realistic. Indeed, he definitely should start by reading the letter by himself to be on the safe side – solely to protect his brother from potential danger.

Frank tore the envelope open.

Dear Sirs,

I am fully aware that by sending you this letter, I am breaking the promise I gave you at our last meeting when I contacted you for the purpose of gathering information for my latest book and my search for the people I was not indifferent to. Back then I promised not to bother you anymore and not to look for you, and I am sorry for not being as good as my word. Still, I would like to ask you not to tear this letter up as soon as you realize who had written it, and to read it till the end. As you are going to learn, I have a reasonable excuse to disturb you. I also hasten to assure you that your current address shall remain secret and is presently known, apart from me, only to one person, which brings us to the reason why I am writing this letter.

Dear Sirs, you have a niece. To be precise, we have a niece, since she is the daughter of my late sister and your late brother. For a long time, I was not completely sure of her existence, and I only met her four months ago. She contacted me to ask me for assistance in her search for the family that raised her and that she was separated from for a variety of reasons. Yet in the process of looking for that family, which we are presently engaged in, she also developed a wish to learn more about her biological family or, rather, whatever is left of it. I am writing to you at her request in the hope that you would satisfy her curiosity and her sincere wish to get to know you, and agree for a meeting.

Her name is Beatrice. Like her namesake back in the day, she takes interest in training bats, which have been used to deliver the present message to you. Another one of her hobbies is photography, and her progress in it would have certainly pleased her fourth uncle if she had the possibility to meet him. She is a very intelligent and well-mannered young lady of ten years and a half. I am almost certain that you shall love her – naturally, if you give her a chance to meet you.

If you agree for a meeting, please make it known by sending a letter or a fax to my legal representative whose contact information is provided below. If you do not agree, please still inform us about your decision so that our niece would not keep waiting for your answer in vain.

I hope this letter finds both of you in good health.

With all due respect,

Lemony Snicket

Only having read the letter till the end Frank realized that he had been clutching it so tightly that the edges of paper got torn here and there.

There was no one in the hall except for a couple of guests chatting enthusiastically on a couch in front of him. Nobody noticed the concierge leaving his workplace and disappearing in the staff room.

“Shit,” Frank muttered after closing the door behind him, and leaned against the wall wearily.

It might have been easier if the envelope actually contained something poisonous.

They had a niece. But what if it was a trap, a bait, an attempt of VFD to bring back valuable assets? What if the letter was not from Lemony Snicket at all – or what if it was from him, but there was still no niece whatsoever? The last time they met, Snicket was an outcast, officially recognized as an enemy of VFD for disclosing so many of its secrets to the general public – but what if the organization took him back for one reason or another, and tasked him with atoning for his guilt by bringing home a couple more wayward sons? However, that would hardly be the case: at the time of their last meeting, Frank fell under the impression that Snicket would rather die than take part in the VFD affairs again. But how would an impostor know that Snicket met him and Ernest as part of his investigation? Frank hadn’t read any of Snicket’s books and wasn’t planning to, but Snicket had promised not to say a word about what happened to them after the fire at the Hotel Denouement, not even to specify whether they both survived.

And then there was another possibility: they really had a niece. In all honesty, that possibility scared Frank the most.

He had to show that letter to Ernest. To discuss what they should do next, and then send a message stating their decision by fax to a number provided in the letter and belonging to some D. H., as it was too risky to use the post and they had no trained bats or crows at their disposal. And all that had to be done as soon as possible.

Frank put the letter back into the envelope, folded it in four, put it into the pocket of his vest, and tried to forget about its existence. He almost threw the letter away, but something stopped him.

***

A week later in the same hall, the maid (another one, not Miss Blumenfeld that time) called Frank to the phone: some gentleman wished to speak to him or his brother.

“Hello,” Frank said warily, pressing the handset to his ear. “Basil Epilogue, how can I help you?”

“Listen, you don’t have to meet me,” Snicket began without preamble. “Ramona could meet you upon arrival, or I could simply give you the address and then you’ll get there by yourself.”

Frank felt anxiety cover him whole like a hunter’s net.

“A polite person starts a conversation with a greeting,” he replied surly. Thoughts went rushing in his head: what should he do? Where shall the thread of this talk lead him? Wouldn’t it be better to hang up, as pathetic as that may look – but then again, what would stop Snicket from calling him again?

“Good afternoon, Frank. Based on your reaction I conclude that you have received my letter and, just as befits grown-up mature people, decided simply to pretend that nothing had happened.”

For a split second, anxiety gave way to annoyance: damned Snicket. Damned snarky Kit’s little brother who always thinks himself the smartest in the room. Soon, both of them shall be on the wrong side of fifty, but that still remained his main impression of the youngest Snicket. Their entire family had always been nothing but trouble; it was only Jacques that… well, that didn’t matter. That had long since ceased to matter.

Frank glanced over the hall, checking if anybody was eavesdropping.

“Yes, we received the letter. Are you happy?” It was easier to speak on behalf of both of them. That way he wasn’t the only guilty party. Frank hoped Ernest won’t find out about it. “Why would we believe at once that everything it said is true? Fine, let us say now I know that it was really you who sent it, but how can I be sure you’re not lying? Because I, personally, have no idea what’s on your mind and what objectives you are pursuing.”

“I could send you her photograph. Perhaps I should have done that from the very beginning. And enclose a letter written by her – maybe that would have persuaded you.”

Frank fell silent, not knowing what to say. Something immediately made him realize that to crumple the letter written by the girl herself and the photo of her, and to put them out of sight would have been much more difficult.

“Please do not think me insolent when I say that I can see how you feel,” Snicket said unexpectedly. “When she tracked me down, I kept hesitating to meet her for a long time. I kept running from the past, and she was linked to it too closely in every respect, from her origin to her name. Besides, I was scared of having to assume responsibility for someone, for I am usually bad at this. I acted like an utmost coward, to be perfectly blunt.”

“What an ornate way to call me a coward.”

“Oh, I never said that. Unless I could have… guessed, accidentally.”

Damned snarky Kit’s little brother.

“Give me one good reason not to hang up on you right now,” Frank said coldly.

There was some sort of rustle on the other end of the line.

“Uncle, may I?” someone asked in a thin voice, quietly but insistently. “Let me try.”

Frank froze.

“Mr. Denouement? Hello,” spoke the same voice, only louder and clearer. “Can you hear me?”

He could hang up, of course. But that would have been even more difficult than to crumple the photo of his own niece and never look at it again.

“Yes, I can,” Frank told her. He had a feeling his voice sounded chokingly, so he repeated, “I can hear you.”

“Hello! My name is Beatrice, Uncle Lemony wrote you about me. I should have written you myself, probably, but back when I was writing to him, he didn’t believe at first that was really me, so we decided that you might be more likely to trust him. Are you all right?”

“Um… yes,” Frank felt out of his depth. He ignored this girl’s attempt to make acquaintance with him, and she wanted to know if he was all right. “Everything’s fine.”

“Great! I’m not distracting you from your work, am I? I would love to talk to you, but I guess you must be busy over there.”

Frank glanced at a short queue that had formed by his desk. The queue was headed by a fat moustachioed man whose facial expression indicated that he must be mentally preparing to raise a stink and complain about service.

“Write down the number,” he said, and quickly dictated the number of the phone installed in the rooms belonging to him and Ernest – a luxury available to few employees of that hotel. “Call me back in ten minutes. By then we’ll be able to talk without haste.”

***

Needless to say, everything went awry. Surprisingly, the fat moustachioed man kept his composure, though his voice was most disapproving, but when it came to the old lady at the rear of the queue, she threw a fit while trying to convince Frank that the porter stole one of her hatboxes. In the end, the missing box was discovered by the hotel entrance; the porter must have saddled himself with too many bags and bundles at the same time and hadn’t noticed dropping one of them. By the time Frank had dealt with all that, ten minutes, and even fifteen minutes, had long passed.

There was no knowing what the hotel guests thought on seeing the concierge, a man of quite considerable age, running headlong down the corridor. Admittedly, Frank didn’t care. A couple of phrases he had exchanged with Beatrice made it impossible to go on burying his head in the sand. He still wasn’t sure that he wanted this meeting to happen, that he was ready for all the emotions it would inevitable cause, but he could see that he would fall in his own esteem beyond measure if he at least doesn’t finish what has been started and doesn’t talk to her.

He darted into the room and stopped dead at the doorstep – Ernest, seated at the edge of the table, was on the phone.

“All right, honey. Yes, we’ll try to manage it as soon as possible. Yes, I see. Be careful. And give my best regards to the Duchess of Winnipeg! See you then.”

Frank rushed to him but didn’t manage to stop him: Ernest had already put the phone down. Then he straightened his back and looked at his brother defiantly, as if flaunting what he had just done. Frank stopped.

“That phone call was meant for me,” he said icily.

“That letter was meant for the both of us,” retorted Ernest in the same spirit. “Now can I finally read it? Better late than never, and so on and so forth?”

“You told…”

“Calm down, she thinks I was put in the picture. And no, I didn’t introduce myself by your name. Now, the letter,” Ernest held out his hand pointedly, waiting for an envelope to be put into it.

Frank went to his bedroom, unlocked the drawer, took out the letter, and locked the drawer again. Having returned to the living room (if such a cramped and unadorned room could be called so, of course; even the best employees of the hotel had very mediocre personal premises), he passed the envelope to his brother. He put the letter in the pocket of his vest.

“I thought you wanted to read it immediately,” Frank observed.

“Oh, I can imagine what it says, more or less. The conversation with our niece opened my eyes to everything,” his brother assured him, with a sort of grim merriment in his voice. “I’m going to read this letter just for the sake of it. Got the message despite my own brother doing his best to hide it from me – all done, moving forward.”

He fell silent at that and turned away. Frank crossed his arms on his chest. Seemed like the moment was approaching for him to apologize; he disliked such moments.

“I shouldn’t have acted like that,” he said finally. Ernest shrugged without turning to him.

“Well, this time it was you who did the dirty work, not me,” he said. “Must be healthy sometimes.”

“The dirty work?”

“Panicked, showed the white feather, messed up. The dirty work,” Ernest repeated. He turned to his brother, his arms also crossed, and Frank put his own arms down on instinct; the body itself seemed to resist being turned into the mirror image of his brother. The three of them used to be brothers from a fairytale – three brothers, three bears, three Norns, three Christmas ghosts. The two of them used to play certain roles for too long – the embodiment of the false dichotomy of good and evil, the noble volunteer and his wicked doppelgänger; the roles they wanted to have nothing in common with anymore yet still assumed from time to time automatically, by force of habit. That complicated their interaction, which has never gone smoothly to begin with. “One of us had to do that, so that the other could be indignant later. Thanks for letting me feel like a good guy for a change, brother.”

“The harpoon gun,” Frank spoke in a low voice.

“What?”

“The harpoon gun. You weren’t the one to give it to that girl,” he clenched his fists so hard that his knuckles went white. “You weren’t the one to enable what happened.”

The vexation in his wicked doppelgänger’s eyes gave way to something else. To sorrow. To pity, dang it.

“I think we’ve talked about this more than once,” Ernest said softly. “Sure, it wasn’t me who gave her that gun, but I also took part in all that, and couldn’t prevent anything. And our niece,” he waved his hand at Frank, gesturing to him to keep silent, before he managed to utter a single word, “knows it, since she has read Snicket’s scribbles. And she still wants to meet us.”

She knew what they had done – or, more exactly, what they hadn’t done. She knew, and she still found them. Still spoke to them politely on the phone, and still wanted to see them.

They had a strange family, without a doubt.

It took quite a long time for Frank, who didn’t know what to say and simultaneously wanted to say too much, to pick the right words.

“What do you suggest?” he simply asked in the end.

“To take a vacation. As soon as we can. To say that our aunt has died, or something.”

“We have no aunt.”

“We don’t, but Henry and Basil Epilogue most certainly do. For now. Guess the poor old lady won’t last long.”

Their eyes met, and Frank smiled slightly against his will; for the first time in a long period, not just because serving the guests required a smile.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Ernest said. “I’m starting to suspect you want to hug me.”

“Don’t even hope. I was just thinking about the vacation,” Frank squared his shoulders. “I have an idea where to travel to.”

“What a coincidence,” Ernest grinned. His face lost all softness and sorrow, as if they were never there in the first place. The three of them used to be brothers from a fairytale – once. The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde was no fairytale, but one could work with that too, if anything. “I also have an idea.”

They had a strange family, without a doubt.

He was curious to find out if their new relative had inherited that strangeness.

_____________________________________________________________

Some notes:

The title and the epigraph are from a song of the same name by Gogol Bordello. I do not know if Frank and Ernest's names are supposed to be just a pun on "frank" and "earnest" or also a reference to The Importance of Being Earnest by Oscar Wilde that uses the same pun with "earnest", but Frank and Ernest's new names are borrowed from Wilde's The Picture of Dorian Gray. As to their surname, the epilogue follows after the denouement (I guess).

#asoue #a series of unfortunate events #frank denouement #ernest denouement #beatrice snicket #lemony snicket #snicketverse #gella talks snicketverse #talk talk talk #my fic

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dragonindigo245 · 5 years

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Project [REDACTED]

Heyo!!! This is a WIP story I'm doing with the amazing @pawton-meowity ! Hope you enjoy! The odd numbered chapters will be posted on their Tumblr while the even ones will be on mine. Feel free to request to be added to the tag list for updates! Thanks! 💜🖤💜

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Chapter 2: P.O.V. Of Logan

The probability of me having the knowledge of three people coming was as Patton put it, astronomical. I saw them approach the edge of the crater and then they were gone only to have them fade away and the scene play out once more. I simply shook this aside however because the three didn't look like the type who had come to 'chill'. The one with a green and purple eye looked between all of us before loudly asking, "What the hell?!?"

I moved from my spot next to the meteorite and placed myself firmly in front of Patton. Roman however was one step ahead figuratively.

"Problem, Casper the Dreary Ghost?"

The figure in the black ruffled shirt shoved the 'edgier' one aside, as if that was how he got a chance to speak.

"Ooo! Someone with pop culture references! I want that one! Can I, can I, can I, Dee? Pleeeeeease?"

The supposed 'Dee' slapped a gloved hand over the energetic one.

"No. Shut up. We're totally here for the- ARE YOU EATING MY GLOVE?" Dee pulled his hand away in pure disgust. Clearly the one with the ruffles was a little bit unhinged.

The only one who even seemed to acknowledge us anymore was the heterochromatic one. He sighed and slid down the crater like Roman had done so elegantly. Our group was still a little uneasy of him but didn't bother to say anything about him entering the hole. Wait... doesn't that mean he's stuck down-

"Hey nerd, who were the first two that touched this?" I snapped out of my thoughts and looked to see the heterochromatic one sitting on the meteorite casually.

"Pardon? Why is that necessary information?"

"Cause it's important, idiot."

"I beg to differ. I am one of the leading students in my major. An idiot would be-"

"It's just a saying now PLEASE just answer the question."

Patton cut in with both of his hands between us despite the noticeable distance we had from each other.

"Guys! Fighting isn't gonna do anything! Let's just be reasonable, introduce ourselves, and talk it out. Okay?" Normally I would object to this seeing as how I did not wish to make acquaintances with this foreboding figure however Patton seemed more than a little uneasy. Instead of denying his request I simply sighed and mumbled an apology.

"Virgil. Now can you please answer my question?"

"Virgil?" I asked curiously him. "Is that your name then?"

He nodded and motioned to Patton. "He said for us to introduce ourselves and I don't particularly care to learn your guys names soooo... can you answer my question or are you going to dodge around it more?"

Patton spoke up quickly, ignoring Virgil's sour attitude and as Roman would call it: Edgy personality.

"Well I'm Patton! This is Logan or who you called a uh... nerd... and the one with the red hoodie is Roman! To answer your question you desperately want the answer to well Logan and I were the first two. Why do you ask?"

Virgil massaged his nose and mumbled something nobody was close enough to hear. He glanced at Roman who was more interested in the other two people and back to us.

"Do you know how much trouble you have gotten yourselves into? Why would you even touch a giant unknown object that was designed to look steam- OH SHIT I said too much." He hopped down from the meteor and jumped up part of the crater. With ease he scaled it with precise placement of his feet and made it to the top in almost no time.

The rest of his group stopped talking and took one glance at him and seemed to take some hint I couldn't see. The ruffly one bowed to us with a large grin.

"Well you've been a wonderful audience but we're gonna go now! Enjoy the rest of your pathetic lives! Especially you Roman, hope nobody clobbers you over the head with a mace!" Dee pulled him with them and angrily shouted:

"Let's go Remus! You'll get to talk to them later! Less talking and more running!"

Finally the last piece of the set as I believe the saying goes. Wait... Running? They must be running from the people coming from the opposite end of the crater... wait how did I know that? That can't be possible for me to know.

"Roman, Patton, I think they have the right idea. We should go back and swiftly. Something isn't right."

Patton nodded and whispered: "You're right, it's left." before going to the area Virgil climbed. "How do we even climb this? It seems... risky..."

Roman came up to Patton and assessed the wall. "Maybe one of us could stay here while the others climb to catch them if they fall... then the last one just attempt it head on? We could vote or something..."

Roman and I looked at each other and in unison said: "Patton is going up first."

Patton opened his mouth to protest but quickly decided against it when we glared at him, or rather I did at least. I couldn't see Roman's face at the time after all.

I took Patton's hand into my own and helped him onto the first little ledge. I wanted to make sure he could be safe for as long as possible before he was out of my grip. The first step up was alright, second step, third, at the fourth I had to let go which made it worse for my nerves. Fifth, siiiiiiix... that one was almost bad. Seven... one more, ni-

"PATTON!" I screamed as he fell from the very top. I knew where and when he would land somehow and I was very grateful for that. I caught a shaking Patton in my arms and tried to soothe him as much as I could. He got out of my arms slowly and lay down on the ground as if it would help him regain his breath. We didn't have time for this but if we did I would have continued to help him.

"I'll go first this time, Roman. You help Patton climb up as much as you can then I'll make sure he doesn't fall again." Roman nodded seriously (for a change) and I took one last glance at Patton to make sure he was okay. He still was, thankfully, and with that I picked myself up to the first ledge.

Each step up was steeper and steeper. I could see why Patton fell. By the fifth step I was barely still holding on. The sixth one was quite a reach.

Well, if all else fails I end up with a broken bone and mild concussion. No time to ponder now though, we have taken too much valuable escape time already.

The steps were hard but I got to the final one eventually and used all my strength to make it up and out of the crater. Roman watched me the whole way and when I got to the top he helped Patton stand up. Patton was obviously uneasy about this but tried again anyways. He climbed up carefully yet quickly, Roman watched each movement of Patton's but I don't think anyone could watch as carefully as I was.

Patton made it to arms reach and reached for me slowly. I put my arm out to him and he took it gratefully. Roman started his way up while I pulled Patton up. He quickly got away from the edge without another word as I began to help Roman up just as we began to hear voices in the distance.

We didn't need to tell each other to run before we took off into the forest. This time Roman and I were both careful to not leave Patton behind. These people could be life threatening and we were not going to risk Patton's life, not if I had anything to say about it at least.

The pines thick branches covered in needles did not help our circumstances and only made things far worse for each of us. We constantly had to dodge away mid run so we wouldn't tri- Something came at us from below and tripped all three of us. A loud hiss came from a snake as it rose up in front of us. Its species was highly abnormal for a forest in Florida. We do not get false cobras anywhere near here seeing as how they are native to the Middle East. This one however was meer inches away from our faces.

Two people leaped out of the nearby brambles: Virgil and Remus from our earlier encounter. They both helped us up as if the cobra was an everyday thing. It must have actually been because Remus crouched down to pick the cobra up who didn't so much as flinch.

"Come on Dee! Into the bush!" The lunatic threw the cobra into the brambles. He THREW the cobra INTO the bush. Why in the world would he even throw a living creature?

The snake hissed in annoyance and most likely in some slight discomfort. From the bush rose Dee, the other member of their trio.

"Remus! What the fuck?!? That didn't hurt!" Didn't hurt? That was a lie. Did the snake bite him? If so he should probably get that looked at. Remus simply stuck his tongue out in response. Virgil pushed Remus into a bush and sighed, annoyed.

"Asshole... anyways you three made it out of the hole so I recommend you hide out here rather than keep running. The school will be the first place they check for any abnormalities." Roman pushed past Patton and I to loom over Virgil.

"Uh excUSE me? If you don't remember, Emoyore, you abandoned us in that pit to rot! You're lucky you are able to be graced with my precious face because we almost didn't make it! You should start explaining yourself or Zeus help me I will make you!" Virgil sighed and shrugged him off.

"Yeah yeah Princey, I'll explain later. If you value your freedom and don't want to end up like the Waluigi of us then I recommend hiding. Also here's a tip, work on your threats, tough guy."

Remus popped up from the ground with a big smile. "You called me Waluigi?!? I love it! I'm gonna start calling you Wario!" Virgil groaned.

"Please don't. Just everyone get into a hiding place and shut the hell up. Is nobody going to take an actual dangerous situation seriously?" Dee raised his hand.

"Uh I am?" Virgil shooed him off.

"Shut up, you got thrown in a bush. I'm exempting you." Wait they threw him in a bush before we got here? ...And then they threw a snake on him? Something didn't seem to add up but my thoughts didn't have time to make coherent sense of this situation before-

The voices came again and everyone immediately became silent. It felt strange after all the pointless arguing however they thankfully knew when to stop. Dee shrank down in his spot and Remus jumped in with him. A singular bush shouldn't be able to hold two adults but here we are.

Virgil on the other hand pulled his hood from his hoodie up and simply... vanished. Incredible, but certainly not the time to be in awe. Roman looked around for maybe two seconds before pointing up to the trees. That works.

Each of us picked a tree and climbed up it briskly. I was not used to having to use so much upper body strength in a short amount of time however when one is filled with adrenaline they are often capable of going beyond their limit. I had definitely reached mine already but I kept pushing forward.

When I got up as high as I could reach I tried to angle myself to sit on a branch but ended up more of kneeling on one while holding myself up with the trunk. The height was an advantage for us but hope quickly turned to fear (not much fear because I don't have emotions) when I saw an array of soldiers dressed like a SWAT team. They clearly weren't any of the government's employees, however, something told me that. Logically, I couldn't have known that but the human mind works in strange ways I suppose. Patton would know more about it than- move away from the branch. I quickly jumped to another branch as a bullet appeared from seemingly nowhere and struck the original position I was in.

Oh great, they're trying to kill us.

"Shoot em down! Careful not to hit his head or any vital organs!"

Okay they're not trying to kill us but this is probably worse.

I leaped behind the trunk as I heard two more guns release their bullets. Quick... think of a way out. Duck. I threw my body down on my current branch as a few bullets made holes in the unfortunate tree.

"You idiots! I said NOT THE ORGANS! We need him alive!"

Whoever that was is saving my life, giving me vital information, and definitely trying to capture me. It's a weird mix for sure. Are you going to get out of there or what? Okay I'm beginning to think that's not my own voice. Of course not, now get the fuck out of that tree and scram.

Another well timed jump and I made the mistake of stranding myself on a branch that would only take me downward to the unknown aggressors. Oh well good job. Hang on a mo, I'll get Virge. What? How? Okay, okay, okay, this is getting to my head. Just think, Logan.

A bullet grazed my arm, snapping me back into the moment. I took the risk and jumped downward where they could shoot me easier. It was a lot harder to move to where the bullets weren't going to be. By some miracle I kept up, however, knowing exactly where they would shoot next. I must have picked up on their behaviors or something.

The aggressors suddenly stopped firing at me and started shooting at some unseen object. From my angle it was just flora as far as I could see. This was no time to observe though. This was perfect timing to escape.

I jumped down the tree swiftly and once my feet hit the ground I jumped into a bush. They would be more likely to find me here, however this was the best I could guarantee for the time being.

Suddenly the guns stopped firing as each armored fighter looked at each other. In one second they coordinated their movements and shot each other down. I had never heard of anything like it. Everyone turning on each other for no reason and yet doing so in unison? Needless to say the attack on themselves was successful and every last one of them dropped dead.

Roman and Patton got down from their trees and stared at the scene, just as baffled as I surely. I joined their side, as did- wait when did Virgil get here? Never mind.

Speaking of Virgil, he was smiling. That is a rather odd reaction to dead bodies. "Well Remus you did quite a number on them. Thanks for getting me out of that. Anyways, what are we gonna do with the bodies?" Roman and Patton looked to Virgil in a strange mix of shock and confusion while I kept my emotions shoved down because this certainly was not the time for them. That being said I did cast him an interested glance. This explanation is going to be interesting.

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phantomphangphucker · 5 years

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The Bindings Of Time - Chapter 2. The Sands Of Time Embodied - PhannieMay - Day 11 Redesign and Day 22 Memories

Summary: Danny’s got some changes to make

(Multi-chapter fic, each chapter falls under the Memories prompt as well as another day’s prompt)

-return to the present-

Maddie’s returned home while Danny’s been lost in thought, she can tell too as he rubs at the little purple pinky ring he’s started wearing. Danny jerks his head up as he picks up on her presence and quickly chases down his melancholic expression. “You’re home early”.

“Sweetie, it’s five p.m.”, Danny turns his head to clock muttering, “Oh”. As Maddie walks over and ruffles up his hair, “you’re not ok, why? Can I help?”. Danny’s still not really up for explaining to anyone really. But his parents especially, they might have accepted Phantom and him being Phantom but they know nothing about ClockWork or that he was even close with any ghosts. He knows they don’t see him the same as other ghosts and that they view him as more of a hunter, like them, instead of socialising and protecting what’s his, like ghosts do. He still appreciates her concern though, “not really”, pausing for a bit with a little smirk, “it’s more of a time thing”. He knows Jazz would lecture him about using jokes as a coping mechanism but Danny thinks he’s damn well deserved it. Plus jokes are really a knee jerk reaction for him. “If you’re sure”, she continues talking after sitting down next to Danny, “you can talk to us, you know. I know your life is different and you deal with things I could have never imagined, but still. You’ve got us in your corner no matter what it is or what you need”. Danny can’t help but feel a bit embarrassed as she kisses his hair before going to make supper. Danny can hear her come back out but she stops walking, waiting a beat before asking, “is there a reason you have a beat up thermos sitting on the table? You don’t usually leave them lying around”. Glaring at the thermos a bit before tilting his head backwards to her, “figuring out what to do with it. And before you ask, it’s not why I’m bummed out”. Pulling his head back forwards, he pokes the thermos cautiously, “in its confines is a powerful and very dangerous ghost. One whom I have full responsibility over now”. Maddie hands him a plate of crackers and a bowl of soup before glancing at the thermos warily, “well first, maybe put them in a thermos that doesn’t look partly destroyed. Second, why would you be responsible for a specific ghost? I know you view the ghost problem as your responsibility but this seems different”. Danny’s glad both his parents have stopped calling ghosts “it”, he was a bit surprised to find that it’s both because he’s part ghost and because their views have actually changed. Sighing, “he was another ghosts responsibility before, but he can’t do it anymore. And it’s my job now to do it”, continuing after shaking his head a little, “and transferring him into another thermos is too risky. He cannot be let out for any reason, ever”. Danny can’t know for sure but his gut says he’s right and he’s got a damn good gut. “So you have to make sure he stays in there? That’s this “job”? That seems a little extreme for any ghost and who are even giving you a “job”?”, Maddie frowns worriedly, “and why can’t this other person do it anymore? Is this dangerous?”. Danny can’t blame her for being worried, pretty much everything he does is dangerous and she wants him safe. “Keep him sealed away yeah, but also to deal with him if he escapes. The rest is complicated”, turning to his mom, “but trust me when I say this isn’t extreme, not for him. If any ghost is deserving of the titles “monster” and “evil”, it’s this one”. Pointing a soup-soaked cracker aggressively at the thermos, “jerk”. Maddie’s words don’t really match the mild humour previously in Danny’s voice, “sounds like you’ve dealt with him before and I really don’t like the sounds of that”. Danny eyes his mom before sighing, “yes and I guess he’s someone I really should tell you about. But it’s all tied to why I’m “not ok” as you put it. Because of who used to be responsible for him and why he’s mine now”. Danny’s sure his mom has jumped to some conclusion, normally he’d guess it was likely the right one, but he knows it’s not. As Danny rubs at the gear tattoo on his left collar bone getting lost in thought again.

—two days ago—

Danny can’t say he’s surprised when his ghost sense goes off and he can tell it’s an Observant, sighing and sitting up as the ghost floats up through his floor, “I’m surprised you didn’t come sooner. Maybe you understand human mourning more than you seem”. Danny’s not about to give them too much credit, he knows it wasn’t out of care for him; rather they just wanted to time things effectively. Clearly the Observant can tell Danny knows that, “the time wasn’t previously favourable, as you likely know. You are being summoned to the clock tower, we do not doubt that you know why”. The Observant is of course right, that’s likely the whole reason one gave him the new time medallion. Apprentice becomes the master sort of thing. Though he hadn’t really expected ClockWork to ever fade, being outside of time and all. “Of course”, smirking a bit before he continues, “you’ve said your peace, now care to observe the door”. Like always he can feel the Observant glaring at him before leaving, ClockWork nearly always dismissed them like that, as did Danny; no way he was ever going to stop either. Even if the words felt bittersweet now and it hurt knowing no one else was going to say them anymore. Getting up with a groan before walking downstairs, “Danny, it’s almost midnight. If there’s a ghost issue then just tell me and go back to bed”. Danny curses himself a bit for not being ok enough to have the for-thought for invisibility. Rubbing his neck awkwardly, “I’ve got to make a Zone trip, and no you can’t really help. Sorry?”. Danny knows his mom’s not really comfortable with him going into the Zone and he’s sure she’d probably try to stop him, if that were actually possible to do. Maddie’s frowning gives away that displeasure, “And it can’t wait? At least take the Speeder then”. Danny shakes his head and stops walking just in front of the lab door, turning his head to her, “this doesn’t call for that. The opposite actually, I’ll be back”. Danny’s not sure if she hears him mutter as he walks down, “eventually”. It doesn’t take him long to get to the clock tower, he knows the route exceptionally well. Really he knows the whole Zone well, though his parents don’t really understand that yet. Putting his hand mournfully on the door and rubbing it before pushing it open. Walking inside he’s a bit startled as the floor and everything else starts changing colours, in a manner similar to rippling waves as soon as his feet touch the floor. Walking forwards and spinning around a little, taking in the blacks, whites, blues and greens. The place is still heavily dark and atmospheric, with an old dusty book feel and smell. But it also somehow feels more lively, sliding his foot across the white with black veining floor, “should have seen that coming. I’m surprised it still feels like the same clock tower”. Danny promptly schools his expression as he knows at least two Observants just showed up. Fastening his cloak on as they approach, instantly cluing in that they’re the two highest ranking, “things must be actualised of course and it should be no surprise that we believe you to already be too powerful. However”, one of the Observants floats over to Danny and hands him a core fusion crystal, a time one to be specific, “this is not something he would choose unwisely nor to spite us”. Danny takes the crystal gingerly, knowing full well it’s a time one. Rolling it over as the other Observant floats over to where Dan’s thermos is, “as his powers are yours so too are his responsibilities”. Danny wants to glare but he knows full well that’s likely not a good idea, he knows they’re right. Both of them float in front of him now and he can feel their power in the air, “so do you, Danny Phantom, bind yourself to all the confines of time. To be bound to it though free from it. Will you keep guard over the time stream and all those with it. And stand guard against those outside of it, your future evil self and any others who may appear. Do you swear to know the gravity of this roll and that you can ensure, you take this knowing full well you can never relinquish it nor pass it on, due to the nature of your existence”. Thinking back, at first Danny had watched with childish amusement and wonder at all of ClockWork’s viewing screens, portals and all the things he had rein over. But it hadn’t taken long to see the burden of it, especially when it came to seeing and knowing all of the past, present and future constantly. It made it impossible to really be close to anyone and it made it so you knew everyone intimately well, to degrees others would find disturbing. It was a lonely and solitary thing but in a sense, Danny stood separate and alone already. It’s not like Vlad was a true halfa and the chances of there ever being another was pretty well none. He could be close with people, have friends and family, but no one could truly relate and everyone was inherently different. That’s why him and ClockWork got along so well, and that made losing him all the worse. And it’s not like Danny wasn’t already burdened, what’s another burden? Besides, he’s certain even the Observants know, no one else can do this. There is no ghost nor human, or hybrid for that matter, who viewed the two species on equal footing and placed his duties above his own self and desires. Like the role of hero and protector, keeper of time was a self-sacrificial role. Not just in body and mind, but social life as well. Nodding firmly at the two before him, “with absolute resolution I know, accept and bind. Core bared, I will stand objective and solitary in and out of all aspects of time. To keep time above all others and self. Time eternally to hold me and I it. Time eternally to exclude me but I never it”. The two Observants put a hand on either side of Danny’s head, “then with that we bless you keep and forever know all of time, for all of time”. One Observant leaves quickly but the other turns back to Danny, “you have your place here now. Time favours none and neither do you. We will be watching”. Danny smirks lazily, “it’s not like you could stop me, we all know that”, smirking even wider, “time favours plenty, else we’d all die or fade at the same age with the same life experiences. I may have cheated time and death itself, but everyone else is victim to its whim or mine”. Danny hears that Observant mutter as he leaves, “he’s already just as insufferable as ClockWork, if not more so. And he isn’t even omniscient, yet”. Danny knows full well he has to absorb the crystal himself and no way is he going through this around his family. From what he’s heard core fusion was one part pain and one part getting bombarded by new fully fleshed out abilities. Considering how much of an issue his ice core was, this was going to be a trip. Walking to the room he had here, though all of this was his room now. Sticking his head inside and raising his eyebrow at the long object wrapped in purple cloth. Unwrapping it gentility and if this had been in less gloomy times he’d have laughed heartily. Instead only smirking faintly as the head of the staff comes fully into view. Shaking his head as he places it on the pillow, the rest still wrapped. Knowing full well that he really shouldn’t touch it without having an actualised time core. Rolling the core fusion crystal a little as he sits on the bed, pushing the tip into his chest directly where his core is; before promptly bending over and squeezing his arms around his chest from sharp pain. He’s quite glad for his high pain tolerance and the seclusion of the clock tower. Gritting his teeth and whining, far less painful than his half death but definitely the second most painful thing he’s experienced. Involuntarily shaking as little pinpricks of something that feels like how cinnamon tastes but on fire, ripples around his chest. His breath coming out cold and ice forming thinly on his skin from his overactive core as new energy is introduced. Pushing his head into the bedsheets as a waving pulse of blueish purple energy shoots out from him and out across the entirety of the Ghost Zone. In an instant he can see everything, some feel his energies pulse and become confused, others like the Observants nod as they know they’re being watched. Wheezing and putting his hands on his head at the bombardment of sensory input. Promptly passing out as his mind gets halfway through cataloging how every ghost died, in detail.

It’s a full day before Danny wakes up, pitching forwards off the bed and onto the floor. Groaning as he rolls over blinking away the images of the eight other ways he could have reacted upon waking up. “Fuck ClockWork, better warning needed”, patting at his aching chest as he rights himself. Turning his head to the staff still lying innocently and temptingly on the pillows. Staring at it and wondering whether he should do that now or wait, the future doesn’t really seem to care on that one. So with a shrug he elects to unwrap it, chuckling as he normally would have been caught off guard by the little electrical shock of the staff bonding with his energy. Of course, he already knew that would happen, spinning the staff around lightly, “it is incredibly odd instantly knowing how to use literally every single new power, when it took over a year to get my ghost and ice core shit down”. Looking down at his chest and raising an eyebrow, “ice time core? Cold time core? Naw”, snickering, “time freeze core”. Sure it was ice first but the new time powers and “job” took precedence over everything. Plus his ice powers were just another ghostly power to him, but these time powers were a whole nother beast, a completely new aspect of himself. Tapping the staff on the ground and electing to test this out, pushing the button on the top, “time out”. Shaking his head as everything with exactly 28 feet of him just stops, “damn that is so accurate and it’s rather weird this power needs a vessel to channel it out of me, I get it but still”. Chuckling because of course he gets it, he’ll probably “get” everything now. Chuckling more, “it’s going to be impossible not to basically cheat at school, there’s literally nothing they could teach me that I wouldn’t automatically know. I’d just have to conjure up the knowledge”. Tilting his head as he says, “time in”, Danny’s not sure about how he feels more ok and comfortable with ClockWork being gone now. It simultaneously feels like it happen ages ago, today and years from now. Fully able to view his old mentor at any point in time. “Man, if I wanted his advice I could literally just view it”, Danny squints his eyes before facepalming as one of the scenes of past ClockWork, before Danny was even born, is clearly giving him advice, “welcome home, Daniel. I may be a phantom of times past but you’re the phantom of its future. Let your staff aid you well, we both know it will. I’d say not to worry about Dan, but you will. To protect is to worry. But now too must you guide and that spares little room for worry”. Shaking his head, “sneaky bastard, but thanks and I know. Still going to be a general mess of a halfa though”. Turning his head to one of the screens and making it show a reflection of himself, technically it’s not really a reflection just an angled view of the present but still. He already knows his eyes turn purple when using time powers but he literally has to see it now for his just recently past self to know it, “man this is somehow both messed up and seems utterly normal”. It’s easy to be used to something when it feels like you’ve had it forever because you can literally see and know those powers for eons past the current time. Calling another “time out” in front of the mirror just to make the point of seeing his eyes change to purple. He’ll admit it feels like a reminder of ClockWork and he knows the only reason ClockWork’s eyes didn’t change is cause he is, was, a full ghost. Giving himself a better look, the staff's body/neck is vertically pinstriped black and dark grey, with a white sphere at the bottom; easily taller than ClockWork’s. Which only makes sense as he’s quite a bit taller than him. Crowning the top of the staff is a black sideways capital D, making a dome shape. With an upright white capital P the spine of which is stabbing through the D, to connect with the body of the staff. The inside of the P holds a clock with the button resting on top. His outfit itself has changed only a little, there are hourglasses on the backs of his hands filled with black sand with purple sparkle. “Sam’s so gonna bug me about that”, but he’s going to say her exact words as she does just to bug her right back. Plus, as he tilts his hand to move around the sand, purple is ClockWork’s colour; so he’s got a little reminder even if he forgoes the cloak and staff. Next tracing his fingers over the little clocks lining his belt, all showing different times of course. Smirking as he summons a DP time medallion out of one, “convenient and stylish”. There’s no real humour in his words though as he sighs and rubs the gear clasp on his cloak, which is a little bigger, and he knows the cloak is truly part of him now. Though he could technically take it off, just like his jumpsuit. The only other difference in the cloak is that the hood comes to a long point and zig-zags like a lightning bolt. “Well it is a little odd having an actual tell on me of how I died, but I really should have had one already”, talking also makes him notice how his fangs are a bit longer, no doubt due to being more powerful. Checking his ears and yup, the points jut out further. “More ghostly but hey, no fire hair or blue skin”, Danny really means no offence to ClockWork but blue skin is something he’d prefer to avoid ever having. Calling “time in” and sighing as he can see his mom, clearly upset and sitting on his bed, “well it has been a full day”. Floating back into the main area while easily switching to his ghostly tail which wiggles about energetically, sighing a bit at the release of energy, “and no wonder why ClockWork sticks to his tail, it’s like the little release of built-up energy I get from my ghost sense”. At least the time part of his core he uses pretty well automatically just by thinking, so build ups not really a concern. But there’s a lot more of time than ice. Floating to be in front of Dan’s thermos and crossing his arms, knowing full well he can’t leave it here unguarded but otherwise he’s not sure what to do. Dan, and his thermos really, exists outside of time, he literally can’t see his/it’s future. Which is genuinely disturbing and feels so very wrong. “Dear Phantom, I really do feel like I’ve been this way for eternity”, he’s pretty well sure it’ll take longer to get used to this coming naturally to him rather than getting used to what is actually new but doesn’t feel like it is. Picking up the thermos cautiously he elects to go home.

Once home, he knows full well it’ll be a while before either of his parents are back. Having a ghost research meeting to go to in another state. Glaring down at the thermos, not really liking how it and Dan’s energy taints his room. Putting it down on his bed before changing back human, only to be promptly cut off from the complete awareness of well, all of time. “Figures, that'll keep me from coming off as completely weird and the break is nice”, this makes him sigh and feel a bit bad for ClockWork. But he can’t help but smile at his reflection, easily seeing the top of the new little gear tattoo; a mark of time. Pulling his collar down to get a proper look before patting at it gently. He knows he needs to see his chest too, his scar has changed some after all. Danny always found it amusing that his scar is more because of a forming core, a core that’s always there regardless of form, rather than the actual shock of the portal. Lifting the bottom of his shirt up and smirking at the fuzzy and glitchy looking circular white scar. Like a soft reflection of the moon over tightly rippling water. He does find it sad that he’s really the only one who will think of this scar fondly. Tucker and Sam just find it an unpleasant reminder of the accident, which was rather traumatising for everyone really. His parents had only caught glimpses off it but he knows they think it’s smaller then it is and won’t be happy about it when they do finally get a good look at it. Shaking his head and sighing at the thermos, it’s a lot easier to not be bothered by not being able to see its future when his heads not being constantly filled with all of time. Tilting his head as he checks up on time, he’s going to have to make a point to do this frequently while human; because therein lies the downside to this “break”. Time guarding wasn’t really something you can or should take a break from, so much can happen in seconds. Glancing at his phone before heading down to the living room, thermos in tow. He knows his friends are freaking out a bit, he’s been kind of hard to contact since ClockWork’s fading but they know what happened, so they’re giving him space and everything is giving him time. He’ll have a lot to tell them but for now, he’d really rather not. Especially because his human friends don’t really get his affection for ClockWork. End.

#Danny Phantom #phandom #Phanniemay #phanniemay19 #memories #redesign #clockwork #Maddie Fenton #observants #phantomphangphucker #have a fic suck my dick

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master-sass-blast · 5 years

Text

Decisions, Decisions --Redux.

This probably sucks, but whatever. It’s done. #depressionsucks

Summary: Piotr’s POV on a previous fic, “Decisions, Decisions” (https://master-sass-blast.tumblr.com/post/181952711276/decisions-decisions).

Rating: M for injuries, mentions of abuse, near death experiences, gunshot wounds, and angst.

Pairings: Piotr Rasputin x Reader and Nathan Summers x Wade Wilson.

@marvel-is-perfection

The day starts out normally enough --though, his mother had always said that if bad days always started out bad, you’d start learning the signs so you could stand a chance against them, and that’d never happen because the universe never play fair.

It starts at a high point, admittedly. Listen to Wade’s antics --especially when he doesn’t have to clean up after the merc--is always amusing, and getting to help you with your band-aid is sweetly domestic and oddly endearing.

And then Nathan walks through the back door with none other than Frank Castle.

Maybe his mother was wrong. Maybe the universe does give signs for bad days.

He walks into the men’s locker room, already prepped and ready for the mission into Hell’s Kitchen.

A risky mission. A risky, dangerous mission that, while likely to save lives, will also undoubtedly end them.

He scowls as he listens to Wade jabber while Nathan and Frank get ready in a more practical fashion; Nathan seems amused --or endeared, or more likely both--while Frank is rolling his eyes every two seconds, and under normal circumstances Piotr might find that amusing, but now--

“You alright?” Nate asks when he notices Piotr scowling.

He hesitates for a moment, then opts for honesty. “I think this is bad idea.”

“Pete-y pie!” Wade chirps through the mask, inanely cheerful. “Cheer up, buttercup! We’re just gonna go in, un-alive a few baddies, and save the poor unfortunate souls they trafficked! No big deal.”

He tries to keep from grinding his teeth together --armor or not, it’s just not good for his teeth or his jaw. He never changes. No matter what we do for him or how much help we provide, he never grows past his need to kill. “The X-Men do not kill.”.

“Christ,” Frank growls as he pinches the bridge of his repeatedly broken and re-healed nose. “Don’t tell me you’re gonna bitch about that. You honestly think these shitbags deserve to live?”

“Save it for now,” Nathan says, taking control of the situation. “Do you have a tactical concern?”

“Why do you want Y/N on this mission?” Piotr asks. “And me? What do we add to the team?”

“We need an official X-Men representative to take care of the trafficking victims; your armor means that you’ll be the least vulnerable given the situation.”

“Y/N does not have armor.”

“She’s handling recon--”

“Enough, Nathan.” Piotr looks the older --younger?--man dead in the eye. “We both know that recon could be handled without Y/N. Why is she coming?”

“Her power set’ll come in handy on the mission. Make it easier to get in and out without so much bloodshed.” Nate arches an eyebrow at him, questioning and challenging all at once. “I thought you’d be all over that.”

Piotr purses his lips. He knows he’s on the losing side of this argument --it’s your choice to go, after all, and you made it freely--but he still can’t shake the feeling that this is an extremely bad idea. “I just think that, given her history with firearms, this might not be best mission for her.”

That gets Frank’s attention. The former marine goes from prepping his weapons and rolling his eyes to watching the two men with a level of scrutiny so intense it’s almost uncomfortable. “Is there something I’m missing? Are we taking a suicidal person on this mission?”

“No,” Nathan growls. “Give me a little more credit than that, Castle.”

“Well, outside of that, I’m not sure what kinda issues she’d have with guns--”

“She grew up in anti-mutant community, was hunted by men with rifles whenever she tried to escape,” Piotr says, maybe a little too eager to turn the argument in his favor --but also keen to protect your privacy.

Frank’s jaw rolls, and one of his fingers twitches. “Christ. And you’re worried that she’ll have flashbacks?”

“Something like that.”

“She hasn’t shown any signs of reacting to gunfire before,” Nathan argues. “And she had every opportunity to say ‘no’ to going on this mission.”

“Bullshit,” Frank spits out. “That’s not how triggers work. It’s not always an ‘across the board’ thing.”

Before anyone else can argue, there’s a pounding on the door that leads to the main hangar. “Hey!” you shout. “Are you guys ready yet? We need to go!”

“We’re out of time to argue,” Nathan says as he finishes loading up his various weapons. “We’ve got people to save.”

Things don’t just go South. They go completely inside out.

You get caught and you get shot, and you go down and can’t get up to protect yourself.

And then, just like he’d known --feared--you slip into an episode.

Next to him, Frank flinches when your scream rips through the speaker in his ear. “What the fuck? What’s happening?”

Piotr grits his teeth and darts forward. “What I thought would.”

There’s another scream that echoes into the night, and then the sound of something metal slamming into another metal object. Gunfire follows, which is then followed by the sound of men --lots of men--screaming.

Frank hisses through his teeth as he moves forward with Piotr. “That doesn’t sound good.”

“It isn’t.” He starts running towards the sounds of screaming, gritting his teeth as he feels wind whipping around him. D’ermo.

There’s another burst of wind, and then one of the massive shipping containers lifts off the ground and hurtles straight towards them.

“Get behind me!” Piotr shouts at Frank, then lifts his arms to deflect the container.

Frank lets out a stream of swear words as the container bounces away across the dock. “What the fuck is going on? What’s your girlfriend doing?”

Trying to survive. He blocks the remains of a car flying towards them. “I’ll make sure nothing big hits us. Keep the traffickers off our back. We need to get to Y/N before she destroys the dock.”

“She can do that?” Frank shouts as he follows him.

“You are surprised?” he shouts back as he deflects another shipping container.

“Not really.”

He grimaces as Frank unleashes a hail of bullets at a couple of traffickers, and focuses on moving towards the sounds of your screaming. We need to finish this. Now.

Fortunately, he doesn’t have to wait long --or at all, really.

Unfortunately, it’s because of you.

The rest of the containers are ripped off the ground, flung away to various points on the dock, knocking out some of the traffickers and almost hitting Nathan and Neena along the way.

You’re on your knees, screaming as you curl in on yourself. There’s a visible sphere of air around you, swirling and spinning to create a shield between you and the rest of the world.

His heart clenches in his chest as he watches you grip at your hair. “Wade!”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m on it!”

Before he can do anything, though, you lift up your head and shriek.

A shockwave crashes across the dock, slamming into him and everything --everyone--else in its path.

He groans as he hits the pavement with a clang, digs one hand into the concrete with one hand as the winds threaten to toss him across Hell’s Kitchen, and latches onto an airborne Frank with the other.

You slowly lift off the ground, surrounded by a sphere of wind --for a moment, an inane, distracted part of his brain is reminded of Aang from the series finale of ‘Avatar: The Last Airbender’--and scream again. Chunks of concrete rip from the dock, flying into the air--

And then they drop back down to the ground as the wind dies out, and you drop down with them seconds later, hitting the pavement limply with a thud.

“Shit,” Frank hisses as he hits the ground, and then he’s up and running.

Piotr moves a little slower --he has to extract his hand from the concrete of the dock--which gives him time to see the sheer and utter carnage around him.

Blood. Everywhere. Dripping from battered, smashed bodies, staining the pavement, sprayed across the dented containers like raindrops.

“She’s bleeding out!”

Frank’s shout makes him go completely still, and then he’s armoring down and sprinting towards you.

Frank has his hands on your leg, pressing down against a steady stream of blood. “We need to get her to a hospital.”

“There are healers at the mansion,” Nathan starts as he ushers the surviving trafficking victims towards the jet.

“The bullet’s probably hit her femoral. She needs a fucking hospital.”

You let out a gasp, and then your fist comes up and slams into Frank’s face. Hard.

He reels back, startled more than anything else.

You stumble to your feet, shaky and pale but still fighting. “No, no, no, no!”

Piotr lunges after you, wraps a hand around your arm and doesn’t let go. “Myshka, please--”

Wade sprints towards you and clasps a mutation repression collar around your neck before scooping you into his arms. “Alright, sis, let’s go.”

Things go from bad to worse on the jet.

“She’s flat-lining!”

He may as well be too, for all the good his heart does him when he hears Frank’s shout.

Nathan’s in the cockpit, pushing the jet as fast as he can given that they’re in city limits. “We’re twenty minutes out from the mansion--”

“She’s dying, Summers, she needs a fucking hospital!”

“She’s a mutant, Castle! Hospitals don’t take us!”

He can hear himself screaming --coordinates to a hospital he knows has worked with Xavier before and taken cases too difficult for the healers at the mansion to handle--and feel the jet veer accordingly, but he can’t connect to it. All he can feel --all he’s connected to--is your hand in his, limp and clammy and too cold for comfort. He’s cupping the side of your face, murmuring pleas into your hairline--

Crying. He’s crying. Crying and shaking like a leaf and terrified.

He sees a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye and realizes it’s Frank, tying a tourniquet around your leg.

“Don’t worry, Rasputin. We’ll get your girl there in one piece.”

You’re barely holding on by the time they reach the hospital.

Two groups of nurses come running out --a larger one for the trafficking victims, and a smaller set with a gurney for you. The smaller group scoops you up and whisks you away through a set of doors.

He waits until the trafficking victims are inside, out of sight and earshot, and then--

And then he hauls off and punches Nathan, straight across the face.

Neena’s fast to get between them, while Frank grabs onto his arm and Wade helps Nate up. “Whoa! Easy!”

“What did I tell you?” Piotr shouts. “What did I say?”

Nathan glares at him as he wipes blood off his upper lip. “I didn’t know this would happen, Piotr.”

“You knew she was compromised, Summers,” Frank spits out. “You knew she had issues--”

“She’s been on missions before; she was cleared!” Nathan shouts back. “Do you really think I’d bring her along if she wasn’t?”

“I said this mission would be too dangerous!” Piotr snaps --screams. “That she was not ready for something like Hell’s Kitchen! That it was too risky!”

“She made her choice, Piotr.”

“And you let her.”

Nathan spreads his hands. “What did you want me to do? I’m not her babysitter, Piotr! She’s capable of making her own damn choices!”

“There is difference between our missions and Hell’s Kitchen. I expect you to know that and choose your team accordingly! Y/N is not assassin, and she has no training for dealing with men like traffickers --let alone those that frequent Hell’s Kitchen. You knew that, and you asked her anyway.”

“Piotr--”

“You put a fucking greenhorn on the mission, Summers,” Frank growls. “You under-prepped a member of your team. That’s on you.”

Nathan rolls his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose, but nods. “Okay, yeah. I made a mistake. What do you want me to do about it? It happened, we’re here; I can’t take it back, I can’t change anything!”

Piotr scowls and shakes his head. “I could lose her because of your oversight. I could lose the rest of my life--” his voice breaks, and he has to stop to catch his breath “--because of your choices.”

Nathan sighs, heavy and hard. “Piotr, I’m sorry--”

He shakes his head again and walks down the ramp of the jet towards the hospital. “You need to think more carefully about who you bring into your war, Cable. Not everyone is meant to be soldier.”

You look peaceful, sleeping in the hospital bed. One of the nurses must have neatened up your hair a little, fanned it out over the pillow so it wouldn’t get tangled. You’re still too pale for comfort, but all your vitals are registering strong on the monitor. Normal.

He sighs, takes hold of your hand, and presses his lips against your knuckles.

There’s the sound of heavy boots against the floor, and then Frank’s hovering at the threshold of your room. “She okay?”

He nods. “We got here in time. The doctors say she should wake in little while.”

Frank nods, then crosses over to him and holds out a little envelope. “For when she wakes up. I can’t stick around.”

“Thank you.” He pockets the card, then looks up at the mass-murder standing next to your bed. “Why take my side?”

Frank’s mouth pulls down in a grimace. “I’ve been at the command of guys who didn’t do right by their men before. That shit doesn’t sit right with me.”

He sighs and rubs his face with his free hand. “Cable isn’t--”

“He’s not the jackass to end all jackasses, but he fucked up.” Frank shrugs. “He fucked up and we almost got killed for it. I got issues with that.”

Piotr purses his lips. “I don’t think it is that simple.”

“Maybe not for you. Is for me.” Frank turns and walks back out of the room, then stops halfway. “Does she know you love her?”

Piotr huffs out a laugh. “Da. She is my partner, Frank.”

“People connect to each other in a thousand different ways without ever telling each other how they feel, Rasputin.”

That’s true. “She and I are getting married, once she gets better.”

Frank looks at him over his shoulder. “People don’t get better from that kinda shit. Not really.”

“She wants... diagnosis first. For why she... has her issues.”

“You mean it’s not PTSD?”

“We’re not sure. She has side effects that... do not fall into any illness or injury classification. We are still looking for answers.”

Frank takes a moment to process that, then nods. “I’m rooting for the two of ya. Take care, Rasputin.”

“Try to stay out of trouble, Mr. Castle.”

Frank laughs, harsh and bitter, as he walks out into the hallway again. “That’ll be the day.”

Piotr shakes his head --the man’s not wrong--and focuses on you again. He clasps your hand between his and kisses your fingers. And now, all we do is wait.

He has a lot of time to think while he waits.

The first thing he figures out is that Cable’s mission isn’t compatible with the X-Men’s practices. As much as the man may have a point, the X-Men don’t fight wars; their mission is to help the rest of the world see a different facet of mutant-kind, one that doesn’t put mutants on an instant kill list, and help take care of mutant kids and train them how to control their powers. War isn’t something the X-Men can do.

If Cable’s going to keep fighting his war --and it’s one that needs to be fought, Piotr’s not afraid to admit that--he can’t keep dragging the X-Men into it. They’re just not trained or equipped for the same level of fighting.

You’ve proved that. You shouldn’t have had to.

The second thing he figures out is that Nathan should’ve never dragged you, the X-Men, and Frank Castle into the same circles. Flat out. As much as Wade likes to bitch about images, the X-Men do have to think about them. They work with children, and they need to stay above board to keep doing that.

And you, well, you’ve had bounty hunters sicced on you by your parents before, and your uncle is a former non-voluntary government operative. The quieter things stay for you, the better, and Frank Castle is the opposite of quiet. Basic logic.

The third thing he figures out is that if Wade and Nathan are going to keep working jobs that the likes of Frank Castle works, they can’t stay at the X-Mansion. Basic logic. Again.

He’s too fuzzy, adrenaline long since worn off, to contemplate anything past that. He slowly nods off in the chair next to your bed, jerking awake every few minutes to check the vitals on your monitor, to make sure that you’re still alright.

The last thing he thinks of before he falls under is how much he loves you.

You wake up.

You wake up, and he’s never felt so relieved before in his life. He can’t stop touching you, kissing you, looking you over every few seconds to make sure you’re alright --really alright.

The nurses urge him to head back to the Institute, take a shower, and get some rest. They’re right, and you’re still sleeping off the effects of the anesthesia, so he does.

Well, for the most part. He does shower, and he eats something, and he makes himself a cup of coffee.

“You look like shit.” Ellie sits down next to him at the breakfast table. “How is she?”

“She woke up a little bit ago. She’s good --as good as she can be.”

“And how are you?”

He sighs, presses his fist against his mouth. “Things need to change. Deadpool and Cable can’t stay here.”

“No shit. What was your first clue?”

He gives her a look, then drinks more of his coffee. “Have you heard anything from the Professor?”

“He’s pissed, as is Scott and the rest of the team. They’re pissed that Y/N got shot, and blame Douchepool for dragging the likes of the Punisher into our arena.”

Piotr shakes his head. “It was Cable. Not Deadpool.”

“Yeah, well, point stands. They’re dragging shit to us that doesn’t need to be dragged.”

He gives her another look for her language and finishes off his coffee. “On that, we are agreed.”

“Okay, what’s your fucking deal?”

Piotr doesn’t look up as he makes himself a cup of coffee in the hospital cafeteria. “You will have to be more specific, Cable.”

Nathan growls behind him. “That. That shit --the distancing and deflecting. What fucking bug do you have up your ass, Colossus?”

Even he’s not completely sure, if he’s being honest. He’s exhausted, still a little battered from the fight at the docks, and his nerves are completely fried from almost losing you.

And, well, he knows he’s not going to haul off on you for trying to help --especially not after you’ve had an episode--which really only leaves one other target.

Cable.

He almost lost you a few days ago; he’s spent past couple years imagining and dreaming about having a future with you, spent time soaking in your love and affection, and it was all almost ripped away in a matter of seconds.

All because Cable couldn’t keep you out of his war.

Because Piotr knows --he knows--that the recon could’ve been handled without you. It’s a thought that he can’t let go, wrapping around his brain like a neurotically flashing neon sign edged with thorns. He knows that you didn’t need to be there, that you would’ve been safer back at the mansion, and he knows that Cable knows all that, too.

It’s almost like Cable and Deadpool are too close to distinguish, now; two men fighting a war on their own terms, screw whoever gets tagged as collateral.

Nyet. That’s not right.

Because Cable is careful in ways that Deadpool never will be. He plans, he takes the people on his team into account, he keeps track of the battlefield and how many opponents are left.

And, if Piotr’s being honest with himself, he knows that you’d never be mindless collateral to Cable --or Deadpool, for that matter.

But he still brought you into his war, a war you weren’t trained to fight.

And as a leader, as a man that’s spent years learning how to set up mission rosters, how to assess trainees and what missions they’re ready for, how to know when someone just shouldn’t be on a mission --or a mission just shouldn’t be run--it angers him like nothing else. It’s careless. Callous.

But he’s not sure he wants to start that argument with Cable. He knows from dealing with Mikhail that some people are just set in their ways, and while they don’t like it when other people get hurt by them, it’s not actually enough to change their points of view.

(Life, really, is nothing but collateral damage if he wanted to be pessimistic about it, and he’s learned all too well from Wade that not everyone operates by his high standards of doing things.)

Besides, he really ought to be getting back to you, anyway.

He puts a lid on his cup and takes a sip as he turns and walks away --all without making eye contact with Nathan. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Man, if I knew I’d be getting the royal treatment, I’d make a point to get shot more often.”

He grimaces when you giggle. “Please, do not. I am happy to pamper you without you getting shot.”

“I was kidding, Piotr. I like getting shot as much as the next person --unless that person happens to be Wade or Frank, because I think they might actually enjoy it.”

He does laugh this time, and bends down to kiss you before lifting you into the shotgun seat of his car. “You may have point there.”

You wait until he’s pulled out of the hospital parking lot to point out the elephant in the room. “Why’re you pissed off with dad and Wade?”

He considers dodging, then thinks better of it. He’s got over an hour left on the drive with you, and he knows that you won’t drop it until you’re satisfied with the answer you get. “Wade is… Wade. Just… usual frustrations.”

“And dad?”

He drums his fingers against the steering wheel as he waits for the light to change colors. “He was careless. Brought you --brought the X-Men--into a war none of us needed to fight. It upsets me.”

You let out a little ‘hmm’ next to him. “And you’ve gone full cold shoulder because?”

“It is matter of principle,” he says as calmly as he can; he’s irritated and tired, yes, but he doesn’t want to take that out on you. “Leaders who put others like that at risk should not lead. I had to train for years--” He cuts himself off to keep from ranting and takes a few deep breaths before he starts talking again. “I cannot abide with those who needlessly put others at risk. I do not think Cable meant to put you at risk, but he made a mistake that was easily avoided --one that nearly cost the lives of all involved. That makes me angry.”

You go quiet for a moment, then put a hand on his thigh, patting his leg gently. “You know that the mission hasn’t changed my feelings about dad and Wade, right?”

“Your relationship with them is independent of mine. I know they are family to you, and I would not ask you to give that up.”

“Just as long as you won’t be mad with me if I still want to spend time with them.”

He smiles and lifts your hand to his mouth so he can press a kiss to it. “Never.”

It comes down to a vote, in the end.

The X-Men vote unanimously to give Wade the boot.

Wade doesn’t take the news that he’s getting kicked out well. “So, you’re saving face again. Get rid of the rabid, mutant, fucked up dog before he can infect the rest of your Eukanuba, purebred puppies. Well, isn’t that just a lovely daisy on top of a shit boquette!”

“Bringing the Punisher into our arena was completely out of line!” Scott seethes.

“Bringing Castle in was my call, not Wade’s,” Nathan pipes up. “He knew the area, he was familiar with the types of shitbags that worked out of Hell’s Kitchen.”

“His reputation,” Ororo aruges, “is a liability to this school and everyone in it.”

“So we’re more worried about reputation than saving people’s lives?” Wade asks, scoffing. “Is that what this has come to?”

“We’re fighting a war,” Nathan adds through his teeth. “You can’t always keep your hands perfectly clean if you want to win.”

“You’re fighting a war,” Piotr corrects quietly. “We have children to take care of. If you need to fight your war, you can’t do it from here.”

There’s a moment where something akin to respect flashes in Nathan’s eyes--

And said moment is promptly ruined by Scott. “Well, wait. Nathan, you’ll always be welcome here, but Wade--”

Nathan rolls his eyes and scoffs as he turns to walk out of Xavier’s office, yanking Wade along with him. “You just don’t get it.”

“What the fuck!”

He grimaces. “Look, this decision has be long time in making--”

“You’re kicking Wade out. You all voted to kick Wade out--”

“Deadpool does not fit in with our way of life. He believes things differently, and while diversity of belief is good for the world, we cannot have an assassin living with children. If we lose our licensing to work with our students, many children will lose vital education for controlling their powers and a safe place to stay. They have to be the priority.”

You consider for a moment, then let out a sigh. “Yeah. Yeah. That’s… that makes sense. What about dad? Is he going, too?”

“Da. If he wants to fight a war, he needs to leave for same reasons as Deadpool. And, honestly, it would be best for Deadpool if Cable goes with. He is great stability for him.”

You nod. “He is.”

He kisses your temple, then the top of your head when you lean against him. “What about you? Are you staying here, or will you go with them?”

“My therapy’s here, and I’ve got bounty hunters after me. Best place for me is here.” You smile up at him. “Besides, you’re here.”

He smiles back, and dips his head to kiss you.

“Are you gonna mind if they stop by the visit every now and then? They’re… they’re still my family. I still wanna see them, even if they don’t live here.”

He shrugs, grins. “If the Institute can hire your uncle as protection, I think Cable and Deadpool can stop by for family visits.”

You grin back. “Awesome.”

#sass writes #piotr rasputin x reader #colossus x reader #tw: abuse #tw: injury #tw: near death experience #this is ANGSTY #fluff next week i promise #maybe #cablepool #nathan summers x wade wilson #deadpool fanfiction #x men fanfiction

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kwrittink · 5 years

Text

Bloody Love 8

Pairing: Park Jimin x Reader (princeBTS!au)

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: Language, mentions of violence, mentions of blood, jealousy(?)

Words: 3,150

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“I still cannot believe you condoned your General's actions, all the while overriding my own orders! Changkyun clearly said Y/N isn't well to be walking around-”

“Your Majesty, I am very sorry to have disobeyed orders on your own country, but you have to understand this is a critical situation that we can't ignore...” Jimin tried to explain, trying to not sound annoyed at the tone the king was using with him. It would be reasonable to scold us about this matter if Y/N was really put in a dangerous situation, or really exerting her body in some way. But she's smart, and wouldn't compromise her health like that anyways. At the same time, you placed a hand lightly on his arm, halting his speech as you stepped forward inside the Soldier's Room, where the king and the other Generals were talking while waiting for the prince to arrive after reading any letters received.

“King Kihyun, I beg your understanding on this,” you started, walking past the Park prince and closing distance with the frowning royal, which eyes locked on your face at your almost sweet tone, a startle for them all, certainly. “It is a situation that needs all the thinking heads it can have, for the muscle part is already down on my side.” You chuckled, sitting at a lower bench nearby, a clear sign that you were putting yourself below his position and had no intent of offending or defying him.

“I ask you to understand that it's a matter of my honor as a General and daughter of Park's previous General, as well as for the well-being of ours and every other friendly country and I cannot stand idly only watching everyone take action all the while being the figure of security of my home, a female to top it off, and let men from other kingdoms save me like a maiden in distress.” Jimin watched in awe as you spoke, low and calm tone, even lifting the small tension that wanted to harbor between Kihyun and him, at the same time appealing to diplomacy and his good will towards you. With a gaped mouth, Jimin realized you were absolutely fit to be an Queen, the born raw talent to conquer people with your intelligence and strength, and he'd gladly abdicate of his right to the throne if it meant you'd have it.

The others remained silent, watching the ruler's frown melt to a flustered blush while eyes diverted from yours in an attempt to hide his sort of embarrassed state. He understood most of all he was being unreasonable, Jimin noticed, for thinking that a physical wound would cloud your line of thought as well as the others. He wanted to be gallant and care for you, also wanted to have a strong hand and be respected, for he was a young king, but Kihyun needed to learn the importance of putting some feelings aside and access a situation without bias.

“I understand where you're coming from, General. My sincere apologies for belittling you without any meaning to...” He started, looking up to your face and locking eyes with you with such intensity and pain that it gave the prince chills. “But please promise me you're not putting yourself in danger Y/N. Changkyun worked really hard to keep you alive and I'd like to keep it that way.” Sighed, and Jimin nearly rolled his eyes hard, seeing you nod and chuckle at the king's infatuated remark.

“I would promise, but I'm afraid I know myself too well to keep from fighting if necessary. It's in my blood, Your Majesty.” You explained, then turned to the aforementioned healer, before Kihyun had a chance to counter her speech. “But rest assured, your efforts won't be put to waste. I very much intend on keeping alive.” With a smile, the boy was flustered a little, before he grumbled something along the lines of ‘better stay that way or I'll kill you myself’, which for the prince was really endearing, in a really brotherly way. He decided he liked the kid.

“If we then have this matter resolved, I think it's better if all of us sit on the table to discuss our next moves, since time is pressing. A letter was received from Kim with further information.” Hyungwoo, which still seemed a little annoyed at you - not for your stubbornness, rather for fooling him earlier so easily earlier on - spoke, drawing everyone's attention to himself. The mood in the room tilted once more, tension setting in and intending to stay for long hours.

“Very well Sir Hyungwon. We'll be under your guidance,” you nodded, getting up from the stool and - with a small wince - walking towards the wider table, where all the letters and maps were being displayed. It was perfectly clear to anyone that you valued the hierarchy and wanted to help them as much as you were able to.

Jimin was a distraction you didn't think you would have.

“So we need a way to infiltrate the castle the day before our official arrival, for Sonhyun will be unprepared to receive us, and probably planning to attack us.” he said, running his fingers through his hair, and you followed the movement, enthralled by his light soft locks. It made you want to touch it, see if the feeling was familiar as before when you were younger and... Okay General, what is happening to you?

“That's also why we need to also have a protection plan for your parents, my prince,” you sighed, tearing your eyes from his face when his own glanced up to you. “His main objective is to dethrone your father, the only reason that he'd wait for our arrival is to make sure to wipe every signs of the old government.”

“In that case we can try to move Min's forces to your grounds? If they enter as civilians and set themselves to prepare the terrain...” Shownu proposed, and you pondered over it. But Sonhyun was a man of the war, there were little to no faces he didn’t know, being someone from the old army. I mean, he’s probably trained a bunch before getting to counselor’s position, I recall Jimin had some classes with him...

“It's a little risky, because if they get caught, Sonhyun will feel rushed and do something stupid. But we could...” You trailed off, looking for something else you could do instead. It was a high-risk situation and you needed to be as careful as you could, nothing could go wrong in the least.

“We could ask for Seokjin to run things and ease the entrance of Min soldiers,” Jimin tried, and you turned to look at him and explain why that wasn’t the best option, but for a split second your eyes were set on his mouth, watching him speak...

“Or, we could send me there, as a healer apprentice.” Changkyun piped in, pushing a cup of recently made herbal tea your way and successfully snapping you out of your trance, as you cleared your throat. “I could use some of the delphinium on the water he drinks and-”

“No, that is not a good option, remember he's in a sect and another one can take his place and things can go south really fast.” Wonho commented, giving the younger a pointed look that had you snickering.

“Also, you really think I'd let you go and put yourself in danger like this? Are you actually insane?” King Kihyun frowned at the boy, which rolled his eyes. “You also don't have military training, even if you're really good with your words. That is completely out of the question.” The man nagged, a nervous tone on his voice that told you that the young healer meant a whole lot to him and the others - seeing that the two other Generals nodded in agreement.

“Geez okay mom, forget I said anything,” Changkyun chuckled awkwardly, and you could tell he wasn't really happy with their reaction to his proposition. Pursing your lips, you turned to the king, hand touching his softly, ignoring Jimin's stare from beside you.

“Look, I agree we can't send Changkyun for this task, but his idea is pretty much the only thing that can work. We need someone with at least some basic training to walk inside the kingdom and deliver a letter in my Commander's hands.” you explained, biting on your lower lip. You needed to write instructions for Seokjin to protect the royal family - but without arising too much attention. We need someone that can pass off as just a traveler or...

“I can go.” taking all of you by surprise - since he hadn't said anything since you've started discussing battle strategies -, Hyungwon piped in the conversation and drew all the attention to him. You've barely noticed his presence, and was surprised to see he was staring at you as he spoke, an interested glint on his eyes contrasting to his bored expression.

“You're offering? But you've never interested on military before...” Kihyun frowned, questioning look towards his friend, as well as the others. The man - which was clad in well-fitted leather pants, black velvet coat branded with Yoo's crest and a white frilly shirt underneath, showing his finesse and looking as royal as his ruler and friend - shrugged, looking to the king unimpressed at the general surprise.

“That's great but it's the same as Changkyun's case, Mr. Chae is a civilian-”

“That's where you're mistaken my dear,” his stance changed slightly, facing you directly with a smirk on his lips. You tilted your head at him, not following, and by his side Shownu snorted in amusement. “I may not look like it, but I'm actually the best man for the job. I'm this king's spy.” He said, and even you had to fight off the sudden urge to laugh at the revelation, wasn't for Changkyun's eye roll you'd never even bother to take that seriously.

“Yes, Sir Chae is from a family that served as Yoo's spies for generations, and he was going to be presented to take up his uncle's post on the job, but with all that happened...” The Marine General explained, and you nodded slowly, still not very convinced that he might be who you needed for the task.

“You don't think I'm serious? Have you asked yourself how do our king knows so much about you?” The smug expression that took over his beautiful features almost took you aback, wasn't for what he just said. You glanced to Kihyun that under your questioning stare took over a bright pink color and didn't meet your eyes as he sighed, clearly embarrassed.

Okay now that's just worrisome. You thought, taken aback and glancing at Jimin, whose jaw was hinged with preoccupation. He doesn't look so happy either to have Park's security breached...

“What exactly do you mean? You've been to Park before?” You asked, fingers under the table touching softly the side of the prince's thigh, so he would get rid of that ever deepening frown. I am a little unnerved as well but surely this has an innocent reason behind it, coming from this king. Jimin jolted slightly from your touch, clearing his throat while glancing to the wooden table.

“Many times, to be precise. Sure, it was easy since I have some... Friends in the kingdom. And well, at first the king just wanted to know who was the so called General Y/N, but after I saw your beauty and strength, there was no way I could leave it out of my report, which actually interested King Ki-”

“Okay, okay! For someone who calls himself a spy you know no secrecy, heavens!” You pursed your lips in attempts to conceal the giggles that wanted to come out at the sight of that once charming ruler completely flustered for having his plans discovered. I think it's cute. And innocent, as I predicted.

Smiling, you looked at Jimin, but beyond the attempt of an easy and light expression as the others chuckled wholeheartedly, you saw in his eyes he was very bothered by those motives. Is he... Jealous? No, that can't be, can it? Your gut churned at the thought, like butterflies were filling your stomach. It was a foreign feeling but all the same familiar, and it tug at the corners of your lips.

“I have to congratulate you then, because no report was made of strange people in the whole kingdom, and I have a really strict policy about that,” you nodded slowly, impressed at his cunning ways. But still, you had a good idea of why his presence wasn't even deemed to be of interest, since as you had predicted, the man was a flirt. Kiss, but don't tell.

“Oh but I'm not a stranger among the court, we just didn't have the pleasure of meeting before,” and you had to hand it to him, the man didn't miss any opportunity. “And surely over there the prince's name is common, though I’ve never seen him around as well...” tilting his head softly Hyungwon glanced to the man beside you, that visibly tensed up.

Of course his name is famous over there. Though one is to expect that they met at some point... It was strange. Even more the way the self-proclaimed spy was commenting, like something was off in that information. From the corner of your eye you saw the prince smile tightly.

“It's unusual for me to have the time to prance around my court, as the next to the crown I have duties as a prince, like your Majesty knows.” What was unusual to you was to see Jimin drop the sympathy mask and glare at someone over such little matter.

But also his speech was made you question some things you knew to be sure, such as the comments of some ladies about Jimin's escapades or something of the sort... I'll look into it later on.

“But getting back to the point, you deem yourself good enough to slip past Sonhyun's spies and warn my Commander of the upcoming plan and helping with our infiltration later on?” you inquired, and having Hyungwon promptly nod once with confidence you sighed.

“Still, I gather we have to take some precautions. You need someone to meet with, an excuse to stay in land and not raise suspicions.” Kihyun commented, and you noticed he didn't meet your eyes as he had before, and it was funny to see him this flustered about such small thing. He's still a young man, after all.

“No worry about that, I have the person for the job. Coincidentally I was going to pay a visit to her this week, so we have time till then.” The spy informed, a grin growing in the corner of his lips. The others scoffed at his silliness, but it was still something good.

“Alright then, since we have this out of the way, let's go over what we need to do and bud the rest of our strategy.” You started, finishing the medicinal tea and wincing with the bitter taste.

At the end of the meeting, the only thing you wished the most was to get rid of those tight clothes and sink in hot water for a bit, shoulders too tense to keep your head straight. Either way, you were satisfied to have settled everything in one afternoon, and without any qualms or quarrels from either parts.

The whole operation would take place in three days time, and you needed to write some letters to your uncle - and Jimin as well to Yoongi, which you were informed was pretty worried about you - to get everything moving smoothly. For that matter you and Jimin walked out of the room together, in a hurry to get to each other duties.

“Yoongi will be happy to know about your well-being, so I deem better if you write a word or two to him yourself, General.” Jimin's voice cut through the corridor where you walked, a lot tired and weary. He had done a great job with strategy, you had to admit and it was almost as good as yours, though you had an idea he let you have some points in planning.

Turning to him you nodded, a sigh leaving your lips as your eyes met for a second, turning to a scoff as you noticed how annoyed he still was with that previous discussion. Reaching out, you held his hand.

“Thank you.” You whispered, looking down to your feet, a little embarrassed.

“Wh-What for? I barely said anything...” Jimin scrambled a little on his words, certainly shocked to have you touching him in such amicable way. You snickered, finding it funny but feeling a little guilty at the same time, knowing that he had every reason to be surprised.

Looking up you stared back at his face again, trying to not feel distracted with his eyes, the same feeling of the other night taking over your body, begging you to step closer to the prince's body.

“For standing up for me and helping me get the okay to act in this situation,” you explained, a small smile on the corner of your lips. His attempt earlier wasn't successful only because Kihyun didn't want to hear about it - clearly in his mind Jimin was somewhat a rival to you attentions - but you still felt grateful to him for having your back. He did gave me an opening to explain myself.

“Oh, don't... Don't mention it, you're my Gen- I mean Park's General.” He gave you a tight timid smile, and you could only chuckle as his little slip.

“Yes, my prince. Still, thank you.” You said with a small bow, fingers brushing his hands softly before turning around and heading towards your room in a rush, needing to write that letter with exact instructions for your Commander and hide the blush dusting your cheeks. Biting your lower lip you clenched your fists, fingers still tingling where you touched his. Since the other day where you woke on his bed, with the prince - very much naked - by your side, you've been feeling things you haven't allowed yourself feeling a long time ago. I didn't want to revisit those feelings again, but turns out this is a task even more difficult than any military strategy.

You sighed. More yet when I'm not doing anything to stop myself from feeling these things all over again.

#park jimin imagine #prince!park jimin #park jimin prince au #park jimin fluff #park jimin fanfiction #bts prince au

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jaremmywade · 3 years

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12 Spoiler-Free Stardew Valley Tips and Tricks to Get You Started

One of the enormous things that makes Stardew Valley a particularly mystical gaming experience is finding everything for yourself, however that doesn't mean there aren't some without spoiler tips and deceives to assist you with beginning.

12 spoiler-free Stardo Valley tips and tricks

For the new, Stardew Valley is an unfathomably well known non mainstream pretending game in which you acquire your granddad's homestead (and all the resulting experiences that emerge from that). The game fills in as an otherworldly replacement to the Harvest Moon RPG cultivating game establishment (and, shockingly better, cures a large number of the disappointing parts of the Harvest Moon games all the while). Playing Stardew Valley daze is a genuinely pleasant encounter, however there are a couple of new-player traps that you can either stagger your way through or get a little assistance with a tip list like this one.

The accompanying tips and deceives have been deliberately chosen to get three things done:

To start with, we love the game and need to help slide new players into it by covering a portion of the essentials.

Second, we need to do as such in the most without spoiler route conceivable, as the game has an awesome story.

Furthermore, at last, by noting a portion of the squeezing addresses another player may have about the game, we're getting new players far from the complete (and spoiler filled) Stardew Valley wiki. Talking with the voice of involvement, we guarantee you that it is all around simple to hit up the wiki looking for a basic answer about an in-game idea and, during the time spent doing as such, see huge spoilers about game mechanics, characters, unfamiliar regions of the game, and that's only the tip of the iceberg.

In light of that, we've not just endeavored to keep our proposals spoiler free, we've made a special effort to orchestrate the rundown so the most un-uncovering recommendations are at the highest point of the article. You can quit perusing any time you feel in danger of losing a smidgen of the self-revelation sorcery.

Try not to Rush: It's Soothing Single Player, We Promise

Or on the other hand first tip is less a solitary tip and more like meta-guidance for playing the whole game. In case you're accustomed to messing around with multiplayer components you may have to take a long, full breath and find yourself mixed up with a legitimate chill perspective to play Stardew Valley.

Stardew Valley is an even, single player experience. Dissimilar to crushing in, state, a mainstream FPS or MMORPG game to get the best plunder drops before they're gone, there's nothing in Stardew Valley you can really pass up in light of the fact that you messed up or didn't play the game in a type of right or streamlined way.

Inside the setting of the game, you can be the most productive rancher Stardew Valley has ever observed, or you can get by doing barely enough to keep your homestead running so you can investigate the game.

Regardless of how you play, the solitary individual establishing the tone of the game is you, and on the off chance that it appears to be overpowering or you begin to get worried over it, simply take a full breath and unwind. There's no mishap in the game you can't recuperate from.

Kinship is Magic: Be Kind to Creatures Big and Small

Me 'n my kid, Linus, making up for lost time in the wake of a difficult day.

To progress in the game, be benevolent to everybody (and everything) you interact with—aside from the things that need to eat you, feel free to punch them in the face a couple of times. Fellowship and consideration are essential underpinnings of the Stardew Valley universe, and in the event that you are thoughtful to animals of all shapes and sizes, you will be compensated.

Converse with your neighbors. Bring them treats from your homestead. Take notes on what they like (and what they despise). As you get to know individuals they'll open up to you, sharing their lives (and frequently tips and treats all the while). Indeed, even creatures react to your thoughtfulness. A cow you stop to pet each day delivers better milk; a chicken you spoil produces greater and more excellent eggs.

This is the briefest segment in our tips direct (on the grounds that we're unequivocally attempting to dodge spoilers) but on the other hand it's the most significant. We think you'll locate the game unquestionably more pleasant on the off chance that you work on get to know even the gruffest and most offbeat townsfolk.

Hoeing with Precision: Turn Hit Locations On Immediately

One thing that new players are quite often lost by is the "hit area" mechanics of the game. The game is 2D and everything (planting crops, putting objects, and so forth) occurs on an imperceptible arrange plane of boxes. In light of how the direction of your on-screen symbol, the device you're utilizing, and the framework communicate, the impact of utilizing your apparatuses can appear to be somewhat wonky now and then. You can in some cases swing your device while looking ahead and have it hit an article alongside or behind you.

A few apparatuses have a range of 1-3 squares that you can utilize deliberately for your potential benefit. You need to move less and you exhaust less energy, so it pays to truly get the hang of focusing on your instrument "hits." also, making these moves costs you a tad of energy. Hitting the correct square methods not squandering that energy.

To assist you with getting putting your apparatus right where you need, hit the ESC key to open up the game menu, and afterward select the tab with the little regulator symbol, as observed underneath. Check the "Consistently Show Tool Hit Location" alternative.

This places a red box straightforwardly on the square that a given device will collaborate with (as appeared in the picture at the highest point of the segment).

There's likewise a console easy route to turn hit area on incidentally. Hold the SHIFT key while utilizing an instrument to show the hit box, in any event, when the alternative's killed. That is a convenient little tip to recollect for those occasions instrument situation is baffling you.

Food Is Life: Eat! Presently Eat Some More!

You eat by tossing food noticeable all around and cutting down like a Tasmanian Devil.

Second just to disappointment at lost pickax strikes is new player bewilderment at how tired their character is. Not at all like numerous RPGs, where you can swing your devices and weapons while never getting drained, Stardew Valley has a depletion meter. Actually requesting exercises, such as swinging instruments and weapons tire you out. Fortunately, strolling and running don't.

In the start of the game, it can feel like you're drained constantly. You can manage the fatigue one of two different ways: eating or resting.

Eating food helps your energy levels. Crude food gives you good energy; prepared food gives you more. In the early game, there's a fragile harmony between selling your nourishment for benefit as opposed to eating it for energy. In the event that you end up out of energy promptly in the day and don't have any desire to squander food, set aside the effort to take care of undertakings that don't burn-through energy. Sort your chests. Plan your ranch. Investigate the guide. Head into town to talk with the townsfolk and fabricate fellowships.

Or on the other hand eat all your food and cut down an entire backwoods like a maniac. Far be it from us to disrupt the general flow of your logger wants.

Lights Out at Dusk: Sleep Is Not Optional

Food may give you energy to handle many more than one errand during the day, yet there's one thing you can't eat your way through in Stardew Valley: the clock. You need to rest each night.

You get up at 6:00 AM in your farmhouse each day. In the event that you haven't just gotten back to bed by 2:00 AM, you drop from fatigue. Every one of those 18 in-game hours is equivalent to 45 seconds of genuine time, accordingly a jam-pressed day in your new cultivating life is equivalent to 13.5 minutes of true time. You'll be flabbergasted at how much there is to do in the game and how quick those days expert by.

It's ideal to will rest before 12 PM, in light of the fact that your energy bar will be completely topped off the following day. On the off chance that you will rest among 12 PM and 2:00 AM, you'll have less energy the following day.

Also, in case you're not snoozing by 2:00 AM, you'll pass out any place you are and awaken with even less energy the following day.

In any case, that is not all. In the event that 2:00 AM strikes and you pass out anyplace outside your farmhouse, the results can go from a minor monetary ding (the in-game likeness crisis responders discovering you and pulling you home for an expense), to a significant ding in case you're in the more risky regions of the game (where you can lose cash as well as irregular things from your stock).

However long you're in the front entryway of your farmhouse before the clock strikes 2:00AM you'll be fine, yet you won't really get the full advantages rest.

Extra rest tip: the game possibly saves when you head to sleep (be it arranged or dropped on a dusty path) every evening. The drawback to this is that on the off chance that you leave the game prior to hitting the hay you lose all your advancement for the afternoon. The potential gain is that in the event that you accomplish something truly stupid (like uncover all your best harvests from underneath the ground as opposed to watering them), you're one fury quit away from exoneration. Just quit before you rest.

Time Marches On: Seasons Exist In Quarter Time So Plan Accordingly

Occasion enrichments are not kidding business in the Valley.

The days in Stardew Valley aren't the solitary things that virtuoso by. Something that quite often finds new players napping is the way that the in-game seasons (which reflect our spring, summer, fall, and winter) are not ~90 days long like you would envision. In-game seasons are just 28 in-game days long. At the point when you first beginning playing, 28 days may appear as though an unfathomable length of time as you get your orientation yet trust us, quite expeditiously you'll resemble "%*#@! It's late spring as of now!"

Seasons in Stardew Valley matter in light of the fact that each season has novel yields you can develop, exceptional wild plants to scrounge, and interesting fish to get. On the off chance that you miss growing a specific yield or getting a specific fish in a given season, you'll need to stand by (as a rule) right to the following in-game year to get it. That is not the apocalypse, but rather in the event that you need that thing for some undertaking or journey you truly need to chip away at, holding up a year is harsh. Keep in mind, on the off chance that you play your days to their fullest, each season is around 19 hours of game play.

Considering that, we recom

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maraudersmessrs · 6 years

Text

Remus Lupin and the Prisoner of Azkaban --Chapter 4: Moonlighting

Ao3 link

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 / Chapter 10 / Chapter 11 / Chapter 12 / Chapter 13 / Chapter 14 / Chapter 15 / Chapter 16 / Chapter 17 / Chapter 18 / Chapter 19 / Chapter 20 / Chapter 21 / Chapter 22 / Chapter 23 / Chapter 24 / Chapter 25 / Chapter 26 / Chapter 27 / Chapter 28 / Chapter 29 / Chapter 30 / Chapter 31 / Chapter 32 / Chapter 33 / Chapter 34

It had taken a few days, but once he had woken up the morning before the full moon, he knew what course of action he would take. None. He was staying at Hogwarts. Firstly, how many jobs would he be able to have where his employer knew of his dangerous handicap and still let him work there? Secondly…the logic was sound. Hurtful. Devastating, frankly. But sound. Dumbledore was a pragmatic as well as kind, and while his primary motivation–Remus hoped against hope–might be to give Remus the job because he thought he could do it and do it well, what Lucius had said….

Could he truly blame anyone for taking no chances? They had all been inseparable. The first and, if he was being honest, only friends that Remus had ever made. With only 2 out of the 5 left, only they knew the full history and scope of their connection. With the moon sending an ache through his marrow at a dull pound, his thoughts went unbidden to the night before the full moon they had told him. Their plan.

“We really wish we could do something,” James had grinned, hands clasped behind his back, rolling back and forth on the balls of his feet as if he could barely contain himself.

“Yeah, it just burns us up that you have to do this every month. All alone. By yourself.” Sirius had agreed, snickering.

“A crying shame,” Peter had added, innocently.

Remus had stared at them incredulously. “Yeah, guys, I’m really feeling that,” he had said, loudly. “You just reek of sympathy right now.”

“But what good does sympathy do?” James presented this like a used-broom salesman, cocking his head and perching his chin atop his fist with a look of faux teacherly curiosity. “Does us feeling bad for you help you in any way?”

“I mean, no, not…like…in a tangible way, but…” He looked between their ill-contained glee and doubt started to push it’s way through annoyance. “…What?”

“What what?” Peter was back with the heavily leaned-upon sweetness and light voice.

“You’re all planning something stupid. I can tell.”

Sirius broke in with a haughty toss of his hair. “Um, nothing we do is stupid, I beg your pardon.”

“Everything you do is stupid.” Remus needled back.

“I don’t remember you hard vetoing any plans, so I think the terminology you should be using is ‘everything WE do is stupid’,” James corrected piously. “But that’s beside the point. Our plan is not stupid. We just wanted to give you a chance to have the last word, as we won’t be talking much for the next month.”

Remus couldn’t even fathom what this had to do with anything, let alone his condition. “I’ve never known Sirius to be quiet for more than 30 seconds before–”

“10,” the boy corrected imperiously, impish smile fully in charge of his face, now.

“Let alone a month.”

Peter shrugged, “Well, it’s hard to talk around a mandrake leaf without everyone noticing, after all.”

He boggled at them blankly. Mandrake leaf? “For the spell,” James said it as if reminding him, as if it were obvious.

“The spell.”

“Yeah, the spell.” Sirius leaned on James’ shoulder with broad grin fighting free of his ‘well duh’ face.

“Are you all drunk, or something? What SPELL?”

“Were we become Animagus’, of course!” Peter threw his hands in the air as if asking for patience.

There had come a silence that was punctuated by the sound of shifting cloth as Sirius and James simultaneously threw their arms theatrically wide; ta da!

“I…what?”

“We’ve been researching and preparing since last summer and we’re almost at the end. All that’s left is holding a mandrake leaf in your mouth for a whole month–a bit ludicrous, but, there you go–and a few more incantations and that’s it! We’re coming on a honeymoon with you!” James let loose excitedly, now that the punchline had fallen, a kid at Christmas.

“Isn’t it Animagi, not Animagus’?” Sirius muttered at Peter.

“You guys–”

“Is it?”

“No–”

“I feel like that’s something you should know before you become one. Are you sure you haven’t been sleeping through the secret meetings?” James added.

“You don’t under–”

“Have not! I’ve been working hard!”

“STOP.”

They all turned back to Remus and did not look nearly as surprised at his outburst as he felt they ought. In fact, they all looked quite smug. “First of all, that’s illegal. Second of all, why on earth would you do this? Third of all, that’s HIDEOUSLY ILLEGAL. Fourth of all, what makes you think–”

Sirius smirked and held up his hand, counting off on his fingers. “First, duh. Second, so you won’t be alone when you Change each month. Third, double duh, that’s part of what makes it fun–”

“For you,” muttered Peter.

“Third–no…” he thought about it. “Yeah, fourth, I assume you were gonna ask why we thought that would make any difference. We asked you about it. Last year.”

“What?!”

“Yeah,” Peter piped up. “We asked if you went after animals. You said no, not really unless you were hungry. But…you didn’t like it when that happened so you always make sure you take a potion from Madame Pomfrey before, to make you full.”

James nodded. “Werewolves are only dangerous to humans; we learned so in Defense Against the Dark Arts–which werewolves shouldn’t be a part of, honestly, it’s a bit offensive–”

“Yes, my dear, we know your opinions and agree, preaching to the choir, please continue,” Sirius said placatingly sweet, rolling his eyes.

“So, we figured, if we weren’t human, it wouldn’t be a problem.”

Remus felt like a fish, gaping and mouthing silently until– “That’s…that’s just mad. It’s just too dangerous, too risky. Not to mention magic too advanced and, have I mentioned, ILLEGAL–”

Sirius put up his hand again, this time to stop him. “Here’s the thing. We’re not asking. We know what you would think about us trying it. We knew exactly what you’d say. I’ve actually won quite a substantial amount of knuts for some buzzwords and phrases you said, so thanks for winning me those bets. But–”

“But,” James took over. “You don’t let anyone help you. You always seem secretly afraid that we’re about to–to run for the hills or something.”

“I don’t–” Remus started to object.

“But we’re not.” Peter said plainly. “Plus–”

“Plus,” grinned Sirius. “It’s gonna be wicked cool.” The edge to it softened a bit as he met Remus’ eyes. “We know what we’re doing. We’ve been researching this for half a year and we want to do this for you. For us. Okay?”

3 pairs of warm and expectant gazes rested on him as he felt a trembling in his chest. Something was squeezing his throat and heating his neck and ears and face and eyes. His eyes burned. His voice cracked.

“Okay.”

#moooore talking! and i figured i'd done a ton of doom and gloom and feeling shitty so we could flash back to a warm fuzzy bit #my stuff #ficlet #remus lupin and the prisoner of azkaban

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drawaheart · 7 years

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Hi there! I'm super excited for this new blog!! 😆😆🙌🙌 could I request headcanons of the nordics with an extremely clumsy s/o? Thank you so much!!!

AAAAAAA you’re so sweet!!

You sure can! I love these boys!!!

Denmark

AHAHAHAH OH GOD. Haha. Worried? The great Mathias Køhler, worried? Nah! Never! He’s not worried! He’s just… mildly… aware.

If his S/O has to get up on a ladder or something, he’s right there, holding the bottom of it hard enough to turn his knuckles stark white. His heart doesn’t stop pounding until they’re actually down – whether they’ve climbed down safely or managed to fall and land in his arms.

Forever is carrying them around under the guise of “it’s romantic!!” The actual reason? He doesn’t trust them on their own two feet.

“Åh gud, you bought high heels?? Come on, baby! You’re cute with just bare feet! You don’t need heels! You don’t even need shoes at all!!”

He denies that he’s anxious about their clumsiness and it’s going to make his hair grey early.

Finland

Is always a little uneasy when they’re doing something active. He loves that they love it, but he keeps thinking about all the different ways they could get hurt doing it…

“I’m Tino Väinämöinen, this is my kultaseni, and they’re sitting on my shoulders so that they don’t have to jump to see things.”

There is no way in Finnish hell that they are EVER putting the star on top of the Christmas tree. He’s prepared to fight them over this.

If he notices they’re about to do something that puts them very closely in the ‘could possibly end badly’ margin, he’ll literally just grab them and snuggle them close to keep them from doing it.

Insists onhaving his arm around their waist whenever the two of them are in public. An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.

Iceland

Sometimes he rants to Mathias about his S/O’s klutzy behavior, which helps since the two of them are kind of in the same emotional boat with this situation.

Has, on more than one occasion, tried to hide all the sharp objects in the house so there was no chance of them accidentally hurting themselves. It went about as well as you’d expect.

“Excuse you? I’m not worried. I’m the opposite of worried.” “Okay I’m worried pleaseneverdothatagain!!!!”

Emil is absolutely not above literally sitting on his S/O to prevent them from doing something risky.

If they trip and he manages to catch them or at least keep them from falling, expect his face to turn red. Especially if his hands end up in an awkward place.

Norway

Is always low-key concerned about what his S/O is doing, even if it’s not something inherently dangerous.

“Så. Are you trying to hurt yourself, or did you actually do that without any effort? Impressive. But. Don’t do it again.”

It doesn’t matter where they are or who’s around – if his S/O manages to get themselves hurt, Lukas is going to give them a kiss to make them feel better.

He really does try his best to discourage any risky behavior by way of substituting things. How about they just make some hot chocolate together instead of lighting the fireplace?

Refuses to let go of their hand when it’s dark, crowded, or in any situation where they could possibly get lost or hurt.

Sweden

DEAR LORD, THEY MAKE HIM SO NERVOUS. He hides it well but he freaks out internally quite a bit around his S/O. He’s always thinking of things that could go wrong.

Berwald will absolutely never, ever let them reach for something that’s higher than three feet off the ground. Nope. Not happening. He will actually lift them up and away from temptation.

Gladly lets them ride on his shoulders so that they don’t have to walk and risk tripping; especially if they’re wearing heels or boots.

“Y’re g’nna g’mme a h’rt att’ck…” accompanied with a sigh and a kiss to the forehead.

He can sometimes convince them not to do something with one of his signature scary looks. If it doesn’t work, he just pouts.

#Hetalia #APH #Nordics #Denmark #Finland #Iceland #Norway #Sweden #Mathias #Tino #Emil #Lukas #Berwald #MY BOYYYYYYS <3

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myurbandream · 7 years

Text

Sentinel Wars(3/?)

Thanks to all the lovely people who left comments and asked me about this little plot bunny… I have written more.

On AO3 | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3:

Rex sticks close to Kenobi for the rest of that first duty shift. (And the following shift as well, because apparently Kenobi is a crazy person who works through his down-time and probably never sleeps. Now Rex knows where Commander Skywalker gets his bad habits from.)

Those twelve hours are the worst control Rex has ever had over his senses since he first manifested as a Sentinel. It takes every ounce of his self-control not to get lost in his head. All of his senses are clamoring for his attention, constantly focusing in on Kenobi’s scent, his voice and his breathing and the blood rushing in his veins, the shine of his eyes and the pale-on-pale tracery of scars on his hands. Barely an hour since he synced to Kenobi and Rex finds himself fighting the urge to tuck his nose under the fall of copper hair at the back of the Jedi’s neck and lick-

(mobile users, there’s a cut here…)

After that, Rex looks for the first opportunity to take Kenobi by the elbow and shove him into the nearest empty conference room.

“Captain, what-”

“Just-” Rex fumbles, putting both hands up to grip Kenobi by the shoulders. “Just hold still.”

He closes his eyes, finds the tang of disinfectant on the floor to anchor himself to reality, and lets go of his hearing. It’s always been his strongest sense, and it’s the one aggravating him the most right now. He keeps that sharp chemical scent at the forefront of his mind and allows the gentle thump of their echoing heartbeats to pull him under.

Finally free to wander, his brain starts cataloging: this is what Kenobi’s breathing sounds like, the beat of his heart and the rumble of his stomach. This is the sound of his clothes against his skin, the susurration of his tunics as he shifts position, the brush of hair along his collar…

Obi-Wan isn’t entirely sure what Rex is doing, but there’s an extremely strange floaty feeling coming from his new connection to the Captain’s mind. His emotions have gone blank and soft, quieter even than a dreaming mind produces - it’s almost like the clone is sedated or unconscious. Obi-Wan has only felt that kind of emptiness from people in medical beds.

He doesn’t like it.

Obi-Wan reaches out across the empathic bond and nudges at the Captain’s mind, trying to wake him up.

Rex jumps like he’s been doused in cold water. His eyes fly open and his hands clamp onto Obi-Wan’s shoulders. A string of Mando'a expletives leaves his mouth, and: “Don’t do that! Uh, sorry, sir.”

“No, sorry, I’m sorry,” Obi-Wan apologizes, waving his hands uselessly in the space between them. “I didn’t mean to startle you. Your mind went away and it was… uncomfortable.”

“Kriff,” the Captain swears, letting go of Obi-Wan’s arms to rub his hands over his face. “You felt that? How do you feel- Nevermind, don’t answer that right now. I want to know, but… Later.”

“Alright,” Obi-Wan nods, filing a mental note to discuss their empathic connection after his shift ends tonight. “Then what are you doing right now?”

“I’m trying to finish syncing with you,” Rex explains, with not a little frustration. “Whatever happened at the briefing, it’s not usually like that, at least not with us clones. It takes time to sync to someone, and I think, despite… this,” he waves one hand between them, “whatever this is, it isn’t complete. I still need to finish the process.”

“Alright.” Obi-Wan mentally files that away as well, one more question to ask Plo or Quinlan or another Jedi about, as soon as he gets the chance. “What does that mean for right now? In layman’s terms, please.”

“I need to deliberately get stuck on you, at least once with each of my senses.” Rex glances at the chrono on his wrist guard. “It’s gonna take time, and I know you have work to do, but we’ve got to at least start the process or I’m at risk of an uncontrolled zone-out.”

Obi-Wan frowns thoughtfully. “It’s better to initiate it yourself in a controlled manner than put it off until it happens on its own?”

“You make it sound like a forest fire,” Rex says, smiling faintly. “But yes, that’s basically it. I need to focus one sense on a specific, present object, something to keep me anchored, and then let another sense fixate on whatever it wants - which at the moment is you. That’s how syncing works. The whole point is that I’m automatically tuned into you, so that if I get lost somewhere else I can find my way back to you.”

Obi-Wan manages not to twitch, but it’s a near thing. That sounds… intimate. He gives himself a mental shake and forcefully refocuses on the conversation.

“What I did just now, to wake you up,” he says, thinking of how Rex had startled free from that floating blankness at his mental poke. “Would that be helpful or harmful to do again?”

Rex pauses, giving the question due thought. “It definitely pulled me out of focus,” he muses, biting his lip for a moment. “If I’m zoned out unintentionally, it would be the fastest and most effective way to anchor a Sentinel that I’ve ever heard of. If I space out during a battle, that could literally save my life. But if I’m using my senses deliberately, you could break my concentration just when it’s critically needed.”

“So it depends on the situation. If I’m not there with you, or at least on comms with you, I won’t be able to tell whether you’re dangerously distracted or deliberately focusing on something.” Now that is problematic, incredibly so. Obi-Wan rubs at his beard absently. He can’t see an easy solution. It’s a worry for later tonight, though.

“For right now, then, what should I do? What do you need?”

“Right now I need to work on syncing with you, properly, not that… instantaneous thing that happened during the briefing. I need to get lost in my senses, one at a time, with you as the focal point.” Rex explains. His brows furrow as he pauses, thinking. “But… since you can apparently pull me out of my head at the first sign of rain, maybe I can speed up the process a little. I think…” He falls silent, staring into the middle distance for a moment, and Obi-Wan feels his mind ticking away lightning-fast across their bond.

“Yeah, I think it’ll work,” Rex decides. “I’m going to do all five senses at once. I can’t anchor myself that way, so you’ll have to pull me out of it like you did just now, but it means I don’t have to take the time to do each sense individually. I’ll go under all at once, and you give it a count of five minutes or so, and then snap me out of it.”

“Are you sure that’s safe?” Obi-Wan doesn’t like how risky this idea sounds. It seems a lot like the Sentinel equivalent of learning to free-fall by jumping off the North Tower at the Temple.

Obi-Wan hated that class.

“Not a clue.” Rex grins with all his teeth, and it reminds Obi-Wan very much of Cody’s predatory smirk right as they closed in on the Separatist forces on Christophsis. “But honestly, to do this properly we’d need at least forty-eight hours in seclusion, and we don’t have time for that. I’m improvising.”

“No wonder Anakin likes you,” Obi-Wan sighs. “Alright. I’m setting a timer. Five minutes exactly.” He taps through the functions on his wrist comm, setting it to beep at him when the allotted time is up. Then he silences his comm calls, just in case. If anyone really needs him, they can hunt him down physically using his comm’s location tracker. “Ready when you are.”

Counter to his earlier brashness, Rex suddenly looks hesitant. Obi-Wan almost doesn’t want to ask, but: “Is there a problem, Captain?”

“Something you should, uh… I should point out that taste is one of the five human senses. Sir.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes dart down to Rex’s mouth entirely without his permission. “Ah. Yes. What, um…?”

“Just your hand,” Rex blurts, twitching before visibly holding himself still. “If I could…”

Obi-Wan removes one of his gloves and offers up his empty hand, trying to stay relaxed and pliant. Rex cups both his palms under the back of Obi-Wan’s hand and steps closer, a little to the side, rotating Obi-Wan’s arm at the elbow so he can bring Obi-Wan’s bare wrist up to his face, pressing his nose to the skin at the edge of Obi-Wan’s tunic sleeve.

Rex inhales deeply, his eyes fluttering half-shut and locking with Obi-Wan’s gaze, holding them together. Obi-Wan tamps down hard on his instinctive reaction to that expression.

“Yeah, that’ll work,” Rex murmurs, a deep bass rumble appearing in his voice. His breath is warm on Obi-Wan’s skin, making the hairs on his arm stand up under his sleeve. “Start your timer.”

Then Rex presses his open mouth to Obi-Wan’s wrist, the tip of his tongue brushing skin, and Obi-Wan’s mind goes temporarily blank right along with Rex’s.

Obi-Wan fumbles for the button on his wrist comm. This is going to be the longest five minutes of his life.

After a long moment of existence without time, only sensation, Rex surfaces up from his senses like a bubble floating to the top of a pool of water - more gently than he can ever remember doing before. Normally, getting pulled out of a sense-trap is a shock to the system, breaking his concentration as forcefully as possible. But this feels like… like waking up on a rare rest day as a kid, with no alarms, just the quiet return of awareness of the world outside his mind.

Rex blinks and closes his mouth, lips dragging over the pale skin of Kenobi’s wrist, and realises just then that they haven’t moved at all. He lets go of Kenobi’s hand and drops his eyes in the same moment, stepping back and swallowing down his embarrassment.

He feels about a thousand times better, more focused, more in control of his senses. A little embarrassment is worth it.

“Thanks,” Rex murmurs.

“Did that help?” Kenobi asks, watching him carefully.

Rex nods. “What did you do to wake me up? It was different than the first time.”

“Waking up is a good metaphor,” Kenobi muses. “When you focus on your senses to that extent, it feels like you’re unconscious, or lightly dreaming. So I… I just pushed you towards consciousness, like waking up, just… gently.” He gives Rex a hopeful look. “Was that better?”

“For a deliberate zone-out, absolutely.”

“Then I’ll be sure to do so again in the future for similar circumstances.”

They stare at each other for a moment, silently evaluating the experience. Almost as one, they nod and turn together for the door of the conference room.

As they step into the corridor again, Kenobi puts a hand on Rex’s arm, holding him still for a moment.

“If you need another moment, to center like that again, or just a moment of quiet, or anything else,” Kenobi waves his other hand expansively. “Don’t let it fester. I could feel your frustration building. Just tell me what you need and I’ll make it happen. Alright?”

“Yes sir,” Rex says.

Kenobi raises one eyebrow eloquently.

“Yes, Guide Kenobi.” Rex tips his own eyebrow right back. If Kenobi isn’t in charge of him when it comes to Sentinel matters, then Rex can call the man whatever the hell he wants.

“Better, I suppose.” Kenobi sighs with elaborate exasperation, but he’s just barely smiling as he turns and walks away down the corridor. The Jedi has a good sabacc face, and another brother might not notice, but Rex is synced to him now, at least partly. He can see the minute flickers of Kenobi’s pupils, the twitch of muscles in his cheeks. He knows what a suppressed smile looks like.

Being a bonded Sentinel isn’t anything remotely like Rex thought it would be. He’s not sure how it’s going to work out - the connection between them is only hours old - but it’s been interesting so far. Good, really, even with the constant surprises. He’s looking forward to finding out where it goes.

~ to be continued??? ~

#my fic #sentinel wars #crossover fic #star wars #the clone wars #the sentinel #obirex #obi-wan kenobi #captain rex

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my-one-love-is-music · 7 years

Text

It Takes Two ch. 5

Super psyched for this chapter!!!

Enjoy!

<3 MOLIM

Also on AO3!

Tim yawned as his alarm blared in his ear. He flung his hand around to turn it off and smacked the table. He hit the edge of his phone and launched it into his face because that was his life.

“Son of a bitch!” Tim gasped, clutching at his nose. His alarm was still screaming at him from where it landed on his pillow. He flailed around in bed as the pain slowly faded and the sound of his ringtone drowned out his alarm.

He reached for it and answered without looking at the caller ID.

“Hewwo?” he asked, voiced muffled by his hands.

“What the hell are you doing this early in the morning? I didn’t ask for a wakeup call! Damn, what did you do?” Jason spat over the phone.

“I di-in’t dowit on purpose!” he objected. “M’ phone ‘it me in the face.”

“Well can you not do that? And what’s wrong with your voice?”

“Shut it!” Tim hissed, taking his hands from his nose. He sat up and picked up his phone. “And I told you, I didn’t do it on purpose. I was just trying to turn off my alarm not launch a cellular attack on my nose.”

“Well it’s too early! Why are you up so early and not sleeping?!” he asked.

Tim rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “I need to do more research on Robert Anderson. We’re not just going to magically track him down. There is still work involved. Or have you forgotten?”

“I haven’t forgotten. But you could’ve slept in a little longer. At least until you’re not in danger of hurting yourself by turning off your alarm.”

“It’s too late, I’m already awake and now I need to fill my veins with coffee. You can go back to sleep all you like, but I have work to do.” He shuffled out of the bedroom and toward his kitchen.

“You’re going to kill yourself doing this one day,” Jason grumbled. “And it’s too late. You’ve woken me up past the point of going back to sleep.”

Tim snorted as he started the coffee pot. “I highly doubt that. I’m sure you have impeccable napping abilities and will be able to pass out again as soon as you hang up.”

“That may be true, but who knows what other trouble you’re going to get in now that you’re awake? I’d rather not get woken up as rudely as I just was.”

“If I promise not to intentionally hurt myself will that put you at ease?”

“Nope!” Jason answered cheerfully.

“Why not?”

“Because you end up doing lots of things even if you don’t do them on purpose. I’m surprised you haven’t been locked in a padded room for your own safety yet. I for sure would’ve thought that Dick would’ve attempted that at some point.”

“Who says they haven’t tried?” Tim asked, grinning.

“Wait…have they really? Wait…do I even want to know the answer to that?”

“I don’t know? Do you?” Tim pulled down a clean mug and threw in a spoonful of sugar and splash of creamer as the pot finished.

“I’m not sure if I’d like the answer or not,” Jason mused.

“You probably wouldn’t,” Tim said, taking a sip of his coffee and sighing happily. Now he could really get to work. The caffeine hadn’t kicked in yet, but the fact that he knew it was coming was going to make everything easier. He sat down on his couch and powered up his laptop, setting his coffee on one side of his computer and he put his phone on speaker before setting it on the other side.

“You’re about to start ignoring me in favor of working, aren’t you?” Jason asked.

“Now what makes you think that?” Tim asked innocently.

“Because I can hear the sounds of you tapping away on your computer and that means your research has begun.” He sighed and it crackled through the speaker. “Have fun looking up information about our new favorite person. Let me know what you find. And don’t try to hurt yourself. I’d rather limit the amount of rude awakenings I have to deal with from you.”

Tim rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t speak too soon.”

“Speak too soon? I haven’t once accidentally hurt myself since we’ve had this link!”

“Yes, well…” Tim grumbled because he couldn’t very well argue Jason’s point.

Jason snickered. “I’ll let you get back to this all important research that you’re quickly going to become obsessed with. Text me if you find anything. And don’t hurt yourself.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tim muttered, ending the call before Jason could say anything else.

He pulled up the website for the new hospital that had been built when the old one was shut down. He hacked into the system quickly, finding few safeguards this time around. It looked like they didn’t expect many people to come looking through their records, but common criminals usually didn’t spend time hacking into hospital databases. And those who wanted to actually get into the hospitals did so for other reasons and didn’t waste time when they could just go in with a gun and get their way.

Tim pulled up the employee records, bypassing the added level of security put in front of them and got in easily. Unlike his experience with the last hospital, there was nothing hidden in the interface that was trying to hack him back to get his location and personal information. Not that Tim was going to let them get in that easily even if they did.

“So they obviously didn’t transfer the program to this new place,” he said, voice barely a whisper.

It made sense since it was deemed a failure at the last hospital. The people who had funded it probably didn’t want to experience a similar scandal or didn’t want to have to deal with the level of secrecy around the patients that they’d had to set up before. It would’ve been more risky operating in the new hospital with the size of it and the influx of patients and employees that were brought in. More questions would’ve been asked. There would’ve been a bigger chance of someone stumbling into something that they weren’t supposed to know anything about and leaking confidential information if they couldn’t be stopped.

Tim scrolled through the employee records, quickly scanning the names and already suspecting what he would find there. Or what he wouldn’t find there. Rather than having to scroll through each employee name, he was able to search through the entirety of the records. He typed in ‘Robert Anderson’ and wasn’t surprised when nothing came back on him.

He leaned back against the couch to give himself a minute to think. He hadn’t known if Anderson had actually made the transfer to the new hospital when he’d started gathering information. That had merely been an assumption on his part. One that seemed foolish at that point with everything else that they’d learned.

Tim opened the file that he’d saved of the records from the original hospital. He scrolled through them, but still couldn’t find his file even with the new name.

“What the fuck?” he growled. He was sorely tempted to throw his computer across the room. And then he was horrified that he’d even allowed himself to have that thought.

“Okay, okay,” Tim said, trying to calm himself down. “So his file isn’t listed in the hospital records. I can work around that, no big deal. I just have to get a little more creative which shouldn’t be a problem because I’m fucking Tim Drake and I can do whatever the hell I want because no firewall can stop me and now I sound like a complete idiot talking to myself. Jesus, what is going on with me?!”

He ran a hand through his hair roughly. “At least I can content myself with the fact that there’s no one here to witness this… That would just be embarrassing. Jason would probably never let this one go. It would just give him more of a basis for why I should be locked in a padded room and never let out.”

Tim drummed his fingers on the tabletop and sighed. “I guess the least I can do is start with a generic search for this guy. Maybe I’ll get lucky and actually stumble upon something without having to do much legwork.”

He opened a new tab and pulled up a search engine before quickly typing in Anderson’s name. The results were a little slow to load and Tim took the chance to get up from his spot and refill his mug with more coffee. When he sat back down, he took a sip and started scrolling through the results.

Several Facebook pages had been brought up, along with Twitter profiles and LinkedIn pages. There was even a news article, but it was a recent post about some high school athlete that was definitely not relevant to what he was looking for unless their scientist had somehow managed to de-age himself or really was some sort of young genius with a penchant for crime. But he doubted that since he would’ve had to deal with the parents of the patients and that would raise more questions on their part.

Tim slowly sifted through the social media profiles and was nearly ready to give up before he delved too deep. Where white vans were the bane of every detective’s existence on the street, generic social media profiles were the bane of every detective’s existence when working to find someone online. He didn’t know how those people on Catfish did it. Well he did, but they had something more to go on. He’d like to see them try and track down some weird evil scientist on the internet.

Tim stared at the third Twitter page on his screen, not really seeing it as his mind worked. He was trying to decide whether or not the guy they were looking for would be honest, or somewhat honest, about his profession online. And if he would even have a social media profile. Him and Jason knew next to nothing about their guy and had no tells on any of his habits. They didn’t even know if he was married or if he had kids.

He was really regretting not grilling Elena more about Anderson. Although, due to the level of secrecy that they were all operating under, she probably wouldn’t have any of the answers that they were looking for and they didn’t exactly have it narrowed down to a few people where they could justify having her go through photos with her to try and ID him.

Tim grabbed his phone from the table while he used his other hand to navigate to the DMV website. He sent a quick text to Jason before he started to bypass their system again to search for any driving records that might exist.

Tim: I’ve got nothing concrete on Anderson. There was no employee file from the hospital and there are too many social media profiles to even narrow it down and that’s assuming he made one in some form or fashion.

He searched for the good ol’ doctor in the system and wasn’t surprised by how many names popped up. He didn’t think he’d ever understand the popularity of the name. Especially in Gotham. Why couldn’t they get lucky for once and have to look for someone who has a totally unique name? That wasn’t an alias anyway.

Tim exited out of the DMV website with a shake of his head. His phone vibrated and he checked the reply that Jason sent.

Jason: Of course that’s just our luck. Why can’t these guys be easy to track for once????

Tim: You took the words right out of my mouth.

Jason: Whatever. I can ask around on the streets tonight after I take down this gang that’s been making trouble.

Tim: Need any backup?

Jason: Nah, I’ve dealt with these guys before and as soon as the blood starts flowing and bones start breaking, they turn tail and run. Shouldn’t be a big deal.

Tim: Got it.

Tim: That sounds like some parody of Smash Mouth. ‘Well the blood starts flowing and the bones start breaking…’

Jason: I’m not sure that I will ever understand you…

Tim: Whatever.

He set his phone to the side and closed out of all of his files. There wasn’t much more that he’d be able to do until they had some info on where to find Anderson. And they still needed to shut down the trafficking ring that he was involved in. And he definitely wasn’t about to find anything about that on the internet. It looked like him and Jason were in for a lot of footwork on patrol.

“Red Robin.”

Tim paused before retracting the cable for his grapple gun. He turned to face Bruce who was standing on the rooftop, hidden in shadow as was his practice.

“Batman,” he said, nodding before putting his grapple back in his belt. “Is there something that you need?”

“Have you managed to shut down that trafficking ring yet?”

“Red Hood and I are working on it. We’re both going to see what anyone on the streets might know about it, but tracking them down again might take a while since they know that we’re watching. We’ll take care of it, don’t worry.”

He nodded. “Try and get that cleared up as quickly as possible.”

“We will. It shouldn’t take too long-“ Tim gasped and clutched his side when the most intense pain crashed through him. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to breathe through what felt like was his side being ripped open.

“Red Robin!” Bruce exclaimed, hurrying over to grab onto his shoulder. “Red Robin, what happened? What’s wrong?”

Tim opened and closed his mouth, trying to get the words out. He knew something had happened to Jason. He just didn’t know what. He had to find him. He had to make sure that he was okay and that he wasn’t bleeding out in some alleyway because if what he was feeling was anything to go by, then Jason was probably experiencing something so much worse.

“I…he…” he gasped.

“Who? Who did this? Red Robin?”

A second wave of pain crashed over him. His body felt like it was being crushed under a building. Tim clutched his head as he fell to his knees, despite Bruce’s efforts to keep him on his feet. His vision wavered and he was worried that he was going to pass out, but he knew that he had to find Jason first. He had to make sure that he wasn’t hurt too badly and that he was alive.

He tried to open his mouth again to speak and explain the situation but as soon as he did, he felt bile rise up in his throat and he just barely managed to turn his body away in time to keep from vomiting all over Bruce’s boots.

“We need to get you back to the Cave,” Bruce said urgently. He tried pulling Tim to his feet but he just shook his head.

“No,” he gasped. The pain wasn’t subsiding and he wasn’t quite ready to admit that that worried him. A lot.

“What do you mean ‘no’?”

“I have to find him.”

“Find who?”

“Jason,” he said, swallowing around another wave of nausea. “He’s in trouble. I have to find him. He might be dying. He might already be dead.”

“Names, Red Robin. How do you know he’s in trouble?” Bruce asked.

“Later. I need to find him first. He’s in trouble,” he said again.

Bruce brought up a hand to his cowl and Tim had to close his eyes to take steady breaths. If he was in this much pain, then he wasn’t sure he wanted to know what kind of shape Jason was in.

“Nightwing go find Red Hood. Red Robin and I have reason to believe that he’s in trouble. When you find him, bring him to the Cave. Red Robin will be there waiting for him.”

Tim shook his head. He knew that he couldn’t go and wait in the Cave. He had to find Jason. He couldn’t leave him alone.

“Let’s go, Red Robin. We need to get you to the Cave and have you looked over.”

Tim shook his head again. He needed to stand up, but his body felt so heavy. He didn’t know how he was going to move. “I have to go to him.”

“Nightwing is with him. He’s going to bring him to the Cave and you need to go, too.”

“No,” Tim said and struggled to his feet. His legs were shaky, but managed to hold after a minute. It was going to be slow going, but he knew that he could make it to Jason. He just needed to move. He took deep breaths as he stepped forward and straightened. The world moved beneath him and he felt himself fall, unable to do anything more than close his eyes and wait for the impact to come.

Tim felt himself slowly come to. He fought against the darkness and the fatigue. As awareness came back, he noticed how heavy his limbs felt. He’d never quite understood what people meant when they said they felt like they’d gotten hit by a bus, but he couldn’t think of a more apt description in that moment. He brought a hand up to clutch at his head when a throb went through it.

He blinked his eyes open and was met with impossibly bright lights and it took him a few seconds to get his vision to clear. When he did he found himself staring up at the ceiling of the Cave. He didn’t remember coming back there. He’d been talking to Bruce on patrol when-

Tim gasped and sat up, having to close his eyes as his vision swam from the sudden movement. He didn’t think that he should be feeling such intense side effects when he hadn’t been hurt, but they still didn’t know a great deal about how the connection worked. When it cleared he looked down and made to pull out the IV in his arm when a pair of hands stopped his actions.

“Woah, Tim! Calm down, little bro.”

He looked up and found Dick standing over me. He shook his head and made to pull it out again, but Dick stopped him. “I have to find Jason. He’s in trouble. He-“

“Tim, calm down. Jason’s fine. Well…he will be anyway. He was in pretty bad shape when I found him, but Alfred worked his magic and after a bit of time recuperating, he’ll be good as knew.”

Tim pulled against where Dick was still holding onto his hands. “Where is he? I have to see him! I have to…”

Dick’s smile had him trailing off in the middle of his sentence. “If you’ll look to your right, you’ll see he’s right there.”

He looked to the side and found Jason looking peaceful and asleep. The machines around him beeped and his chest rose softly with each breath. He could make out some scratches across his face, but couldn’t see much else with the hospital gown and blanket covering him.

Tim felt himself sag with relief at the sight, his fatigue making itself more apparent now that he wasn’t stressed. Jason was alive. As worried as he’d been the night before, he was going to be okay. They were both going to be okay.

Sensing that he wasn’t going to put up much of a fight anymore, Dick released his hands and stood back.

“He was unresponsive when I found him, but alive. If he’d been left alone too long he probably would’ve ended up dead. I’m surprised you knew that he was in trouble. I don’t think anyone would’ve known that something was wrong for a long time.”

Tim flushed and clutched at the blanket that was covering his legs. “Well, that’s…you see…I…”

“Yes, I would also like to know how exactly it was that you knew Jason was in trouble.”

Tim swallowed and looked up as Bruce walked over to him. He’d changed out of his uniform and Tim wondered how long he’d been out and how late in the morning it was for them all to be back at the Manor.

“Look, I don’t really know how to explain it. I guess I just had this hunch that something was wrong and that we needed to find him to make sure that he was okay...” Tim trailed off at the unimpressed look that Bruce was giving him and he cleared his throat before glancing away.

“You don’t really expect me to believe that, do you?” Bruce asked and crossed his arms. “Especially with how you reacted?”

“I…” Tim was at a loss for words. He didn’t know how to explain it without telling them what had happened.

“Tim…”

His head whipped around at the sound of that familiar voice, even if it was a bit gravelly and tired. He looked at Jason’s tired eyes that were now open and looking at him.

“Babybird, I think it’s time that we come clean.”

Tim sighed and closed his eyes before nodding. “Okay.”

He turned back to look at Bruce and Dick. Bruce looked rather serious, not that that was any surprise. He was pretty much always serious and Dick had narrowed his eyes like he suspected something. Tim wasn’t sure if he was ready to know just what was going through his mind.

“There’s something that we have to tell you.”

#jaytim #molim writes #fic: it takes two #update #love this chapter #honestly

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scriptveterinarian · 7 years

Text

About the alien in your garage... part 3

So, how’s that alien in your protagonist’s garage doing? Well? Comfortable? Bound to be reunited with its own kind any moment now?

How’s your protagonist doing? Still feeling healthy? Not a little under the weather?

They were taking precautions, right? Right?

Zoonotic diseases are diseases than can transmit from non-human animals to humans. It would be risky to assume there’s nothing an alien could transmit to a human or other Earth creature. Making that assumption would potentially end very badly.

It’s possible for a species to be accidentally toxic to another. The evolution of photosynthesis is likely responsible for the extinction of many anaerobic organisms. If the alien has a spacesuit, it may also have a component that in inadvertently toxic. In addition if your alien has some sort of gut, it’s quite likely to have microorganisms in that gut, and who knows what they’ll do to you, or on Earth.

So how could the alien in the garage have endangered your protagonist, and what should they have considered before taking it in?

Natural defenses and weapons. Every species has some sort of plan for dealing with danger, and danger can reasonably be expected to exist everywhere in the universe. Some species default to running away, or a threat display, but many will have some part of their anatomy capable of inflicting damage (eg horns, claws, teeth, fits, hooves) and are likely to use them when frightened and isolated on an alien planet with limited information about the local fauna. Honestly, this may be the least of your protagonist’s worries because they’re likely the most obvious ones.

Toxic secretions. These may be a little more sneaky and difficult to identify. How do you know whether the alien is shedding skin cells or molecules into its immediate environment that will be harmless on earth? Humans look pretty benign, but we go around shedding skin cells, sweat, scents and pheromones into our environment constantly. What if the alien does the same thing, without any conscious thought, but one of those things happens to be dangerous for earth life? If you touch an alien (not recommended) and that touch instantly burns, that will be fairly obvious that you shouldn’t do that. But what if the effect takes days to be noticeable? What if you blister a week or so after contact? What if you very slowly find yourself increasingly fatigued, to the point where you wonder if it’s just exhaustion? A slow, gradual change will be challenging to spot, and even if the alien is friendly it might not realize it’s own natural biology is doing this.

Microflora. Look at a human. You’re not just regarding a single creature. Macrofauna (creatures big enough to see) are typically hosts to countless micrflora (organisms you can’t see). We have demodex mites living on our faces, commensurate bacteria living on our skin, a selection living in our nasal cavities and a plethora in out digestive tract. All of these organisms that you can’t see that may have hitched a ride on that alien and are now in your garage. That should be terrifying. We’ve co-evolved with our own microflora, and our own pathogens. Host-adapted organisms have evolved to be less dangerous to us so they can continue living on us for as long as possible. If these microflora species suddenly jump from one completely unrelated species to another (alien to human or vice versa), only one of two things are likely to happen. Either the microflora will be completely unable to survive on the new host, or it’s going to completely overrun it. When you introduce a pathogen to a population that has zero experience with it, it tends to run amok and kill large percentages of the population. Look at what happened to indigenous human populations when settlers arrived with influenza or smallpox. Imagine what alien microflora could do.

Technology related hazards. If that alien was in any way associated with a spaceship, it probably has some tech. That technology is likely harmless to the alien, but that’s no guarantee it’s harmless to Earth life. The equipment your fictional alien has is up to you, but even something as benign as a scanner needs an energy source. That energy source mat emit heat, gas or radiation. While its waste products might be benign to the alien, it wont necessarily be benign for your protagonist.

So what precautions could or should your protagonist have taken with this alien they’re hiding in their garage?

No physical contact. Skin to skin contact (or any other bodily surface to bodily surface contact) should be avoided. Nitrite gloves, the heavier duty, the better. a plastic face shield, aprons and other protective gear should have also been considered. A hazmat suit is ideal, but not everyone has one of those in the back of their car.

Minimize shared spaces. You don’t know what the alien is secreting or radiating into its immediate environment. You probably don’t have the facilities in your garage to find out, and you do not want to be your own lab rat if you can avoid it.

Quarantine everything, including excretions. Whatever goes into the alien-containing garage stays there. Whatever comes out of the alien should be collected and destroyed, for the potential safety of the planet. Do not flush anything into sewerage or just chuck it in the bin. That’s a potential outbreak waiting to happen.

Cleanable surfaces or burnable objects. You probably can’t keep an alien in a bare room and be nice about it. You don’t necessarily know what it needs, but it will potentially need some sort of blanket, water containing device or something to hide in. Whatever objects are with your alien, they should be objects you’re willing to destroy to disinfect of any potential biohazard material they may now contain. Surfaces you can’t destroy (like your walls) you can attempt to disinfect with alternate treatments of methylated spirits, concentrated bleach, steam and drying out. Even then, you might not be totally certain you got everything. There are lots of potential unknowns.

Incinerate waste. As a matter of safety for protecting Earth’s ecosystem, all potential biological matter, and anything that has been in contact with the alien, should be destroyed or not permitted to remain on Earth. If your aliens clean up after themselves and take their waste with them, that’s very ecologically responsible, but otherwise incineration is most likely to destroy all viable biological material.

There is still a lot left to chance. The best place for an alien on Earth, from the point of view of Earth’s ecosystem, probably is in a well contained scientific facility. Ecology is complex and nearly impossible to predict how the presence of a species that has not evolved here could influence the environment.

But these safety measures are a place to start.

#scriptvet #scriptX #veterinarian #exotic species #alien #toxicity #danger #hazards #quarantine #xenobiology

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